#I think I have a thing for blondes willing to sacrifice themselves for the good of the rest

[almaqead]

"Isaac." From Surah 37, As Saaffat. "The Aces of Aspiration."

The angels are proclaiming it is Game Day. Donald Trump has said once again, Al Aqsa Mosque is his, that America bought and paid for it, and the Host says it belongs to Mo, and always will.

In America, we are playing dumb and blonde about this implications of promises promises that Donald Trump is making and keeping and the acquisition of the Mosque must not be one of them.

As you know I told the human race to put its weapons down, build business friendships and put the dogs of corruption and war down. But here we are again, lining up in the end zone waiting for the kickoff.

Allah told Muhammad not to play games with criminals and here is why:

37: 83-113:

And indeed, one of those who followed his way was Abraham.

˹Remember˺ when he came to his Lord with a pure heart,

and said to his father and his people, “What are you worshipping?

Is it false gods that you desire instead of Allah?

What then do you expect from the Lord of all worlds?”

He later looked up to the stars ˹in contemplation˺,1

then said, “I am really sick.”1

So they turned their backs on him and went away.

Then he ˹stealthily˺ advanced towards their gods, and said ˹mockingly˺, “Will you not eat ˹your offerings˺?

What is wrong with you that you cannot speak?”

Then he swiftly turned on them, striking ˹them˺ with his right hand.

Later, his people came rushing towards him ˹furiously˺.

He argued, “How can you worship what you carve ˹with your own hands˺,

when it is Allah Who created you and whatever you do?”

They said ˹to one another˺, “Build him a furnace and cast him into the blazing fire.”

And so they sought to harm him, but We made them inferior.

He later said, “I am leaving ˹in obedience˺ to my Lord. He will guide me.

My Lord! Bless me with righteous offspring.”

So We gave him good news of a forbearing son.

Then when the boy reached the age to work with him, Abraham said, “O my dear son! I have seen in a dream that I ˹must˺ sacrifice you. So tell me what you think.” He replied, “O my dear father! Do as you are commanded. Allah willing, you will find me steadfast.”

Then when they submitted ˹to Allah’s Will˺, and Abraham laid him on the side of his forehead ˹for sacrifice˺,

We called out to him, “O Abraham!

You have already fulfilled the vision.” Indeed, this is how We reward the good-doers.

That was truly a revealing test.

And We ransomed his son with a great sacrifice,1

and blessed Abraham ˹with honourable mention˺ among later generations:

“Peace be upon Abraham.”

This is how We reward the good-doers.

He was truly one of Our faithful servants.

We ˹later˺ gave him good news of Isaac—a prophet, and one of the righteous.1

We blessed him1 and Isaac as well. Some of their descendants did good, while others clearly wronged themselves."

Commentary:

Abraham tried to bend the will of God to save every imperiled person he met. God overruled him ever time, saying the wicked do not benefit from mercy or law and order; they are in fact too dangerous to the rest.

Then Abraham misundersood God's directions after the birth of Isaac, whose name means "laughter." God told Abraham at the moment of sacrifice, "do not sacrifice your laughter to me Abraham."

The world is giving up and this is not what the Quran says is the right thing to do. Isaac is the Ace of Aspiration, he must be scored for the sake of the future. Do not let Donald Trump remain in the White House or continue to threaten peace and prosperity every moment he is awake with his promises. Other promises. the ones made during prayers are the ones we must keep.

[friendlyneighborhoodsagittarius]

Can I have a heroes of Olympus matchup? I’m a straight girl.

Looks : I am 5”3. I have black wavy hair that’s up to my back but I put in a ponytail most of the time. I have hazel eyes that are round and have a mole under my right eye. I also have honey skin

Personality: I am an Aquarius and Intj. At first glance, I appear to have a methodical demeanour, and am always composed. My way of thinking is very practical and logical, so I won’t engage in things that do not concern me or need my interference. For those who spend more time with me, however, I am a very intelligent, patient and kind person who has unconditional devotion to my work, family, and friends. I tend to throw playful verbal jabs and crack jokes, though I must admit most people don’t tend to understand my humour. That being said, my treatment towards people I don’t like severely differs from how i treat everyone else, to the point that they describe me as “frigid, reserved, and barely flickering with emotion” ( My friends and family gave this description and I hate my sis) This, of course, is far from the truth, as I merely have control of my emotions, which is important for someone in my eyes. I am not without my vulnerable moments and will cry alone when I need to. I might be hard working but unlike the family I grew up in, I am not the most energetic, except with her best friend and sister . I tend to be blunt, not caring to beat around the bush unless it’s for more delicate matters, and can snap at others if pushed too far. As a kid I spent most of the time inside studying, but my introverted self didn’t seem to be bothered by that decision. I was always joyous, innocent and naive as a kid but as I grew older I realised that in order to live a better life I need to be firm on herself. I am also hopelessly romantic. ( My friends and family described me as this, and I think it sort of suits )

Likes and Dislikes: I love reading and watching anime. I also love cats and chocolate ( my partner better back of my sweets )

I absolutely hate insects that crawl ( Sorry Shino )

Type : I have a thing for dark hair people of blonde with pretty light eyes. They have to be mature and can take care of themselves. I love quite boys since they give of a mysterious vibe and that’s hot. Someone who isn’t afraid to speak up from themselves and their loved ones. They are willing to sacrifice if it means the people they love live on. They have a certain goal and will do anything to achieve it. In a short example I like boy who are smart, ambitious, stubborn yet they have a sweet soft reserved for some.

Hey! Sorry for the long waiting!

I would match you with:

Jason Grace

Just like Jason, you're full of energy and still quite focussed when necessary. Since he isn't always logical in his thinking, it's good he has you! Without you, he would be a lost puppy or long dead ;)

The other way around, you also need him. He calms you down when you need it and is your lover and best friend at the same time.

He would happily watch hours of anime with you.

[rocorambles]

Duty and Responsibility

Pairing: Osamu x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Historical AU, Arranged Marriage AU, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Lactation Kink

Summary: Love can form in surprising places, even in a marriage centered only around duty and responsibility. 

You patiently wait beside Daichi, back straight, gaze downcast and demure, the picture perfect example of a soon to be bride. Only if someone watched with hawk eyes, purposefully looking for flaws in your facade, would they notice the way you stand just a tad too close to the head of the Karasuno clan, desperately trying to cling onto any comfort or courage you can. 

There’s nothing to be afraid of. At least that’s what Daichi says. And you know he would never put you in harm’s way. You trust him with your life and more. After all, it’s he who’s practically single handedly raised you, saving you from guaranteed death as a street urchin, welcoming you and wholeheartedly accepting you as one of his own. He’s the older brother figure you never had. The one who showed you what family and belonging were. 

So if he says that he trusts Kita, the head of Inarizaki, and vouches for Kita’s choice of a future husband for you. Of course you put your faith in his words. But it doesn’t stop the clawing nausea inside of you as you get ready to meet the stranger your life is now forever entwined with. 

Inarizaki and Karasuno have never had much of a relationship before, good or bad. You know of the infamous fox clan, the tales of their notorious twins spreading far and wide. But they’ve always just been stories, pretty words that you couldn’t tie to a warm body. 

Until now. 

You’d be naive to not understand just how prominent Karasuno has become, no longer the laid back humble clan it once used to be. And as proud as you are of Daichi and how his tireless work and dedication have helped the crows fly high in the sky once again, you can’t help but feel a small regretful pang when you remember that carefree life you once had, when you were just a young woman dreaming about marrying for love and finding “the one”. 

But that was just a silly girl’s dream. You know what your duty and responsibilities are and you don’t dare shirk away from them now. Not when Daichi has so deeply instilled those firm beliefs and foundations inside of you both through teaching and example. And it’s the fact that you know, with just a word, he’d completely cancel it, call everything off and risk ruining ties between the two clans, that has you gritting your teeth and standing firm, awaiting your future. 

This isn’t how you had dreamed your happily ever after would be, but for Daichi, for Karasuno, for your new family? You’d gladly die as a pawn. 

And a pawn you are, even if it is a glorified one. 

You can still vividly remember the night Daichi had called you into his office, remember how nervous he was as his eyes looked anywhere other than at you, remember the pain he tried to hide in his voice as he proposed the idea to you. He used gentle words, meandering and rambling around the point, but the message was as clear as a knife in the gut. 

Sacrifice yourself to solidify the union between Karasuno and Inarizaki. 

An arranged marriage with no one other than Miya Osamu. 

You remember how your heart had dropped at Daichi’s words, a sinking feeling churning inside of you only worsened by how regretfully brown eyes looked at you, a gnawing of his lips before he blurted out that you could say no even though both of you know it’s not really an option, certainly not the wiser option. 

Possibly anger and break ties with one of the most powerful clans in the country over a mere woman? 

You knew that an arranged marriage was always a strong possibility. But you had always imagined that it would be with someone you knew from the clans you’re closer with like Nekoma and Fukurodani. Maybe even Seijoh or Shiratorizawa. But Inarizaki? Miya Osamu? 

A part of you is glad that at least it isn’t his wild blond twin, someone whose presence spreads like wildfire, loudly crackling and announcing itself, wreaking havoc in its wake. But if the stories are true, Osamu isn’t much better. More of a volcano than an out of control fire, but just as able to burst and explode if provoked enough. 

So you’re surprised when you lay eyes on him for the first time as the fox clan enters the room, nothing seemingly fiery or volatile about the handsome man politely bowing in front of you. Instead you’re reminded of the moon and its quiet yet hardened radiance and although you don’t know a thing about your fiance, you think that maybe it’s not the worst scenario, especially as his brother’s voice loudly echoes throughout the chambers, already making a scene not even minutes into your two clans meeting.

Little do you know a silver haired man is thinking the same thing as he carefully scans you over.

Osamu has never thought much about marriage or what his future wife would be like. It’s always just been Atsumu, him, and all the trouble they constantly got themselves into. But as Daichi and Kita pass back and forth polite pleasantries, it’s beginning to feel all too real how planned out his future is. Yet looking at you, he can envision it, the picture perfect couple, a picture perfect house, a picture perfect family. It’s obvious that you’ve been raised well, not that he expects any less of someone Daichi himself has taught and raised from the ground up. And although he doesn’t have hopes that you’ll be the love of his life, for Kita, for Inarizaki, for his family, he can be the respectable husband and father they and you need him to be. 

With duty and honor at the forefront of both your minds, you begin to court each other. It’s pleasant, like a well rehearsed performance, both your perfected mannerisms shining and waltzing around each other in perfect grammar, politically correct opinions, and graceful table manners. To any outside eye, the two of you are the epitome of prim and proper, a vision of what an upstanding couple should look like, nothing scandalous or eye catching as the two of you amble around, getting to know each other. 

But that’s all it is, a superbly done play and both of you can feel the weight of the falseness heavy upon your shoulders as you keep your smile from unbecomingly stretching across your face, as Osamu bites back his usual snarky verbiage. 

You’re grateful for the frequent interruptions from both your rowdy clan members, feeling the pressure lift off of you just a bit when Nishinoya comes racing across the field, not a hint of reservation as he excitedly rambles and shouts about the latest gossip he’s heard, when Tanaka comes storming over and manhandles the shorter man into leaving the two of you alone. And as aggravating as Atsumu can be, Osamu is secretly glad when the annoying blonde takes it upon himself to crash most of your outings together, allowing himself the brief leisure of resting his meticulously crafted mask as his twin yaps on and on unhindered to you. 

But his gratitude for Atsumu only goes so far and despite how hard Osamu has tried to keep up appearances in front of you, it was only a matter of time before he lost his composure the more and more his more obnoxious counterpart loitered around the two of you, hogging all your attention to himself. 

Osamu isn’t a jealous person, or so he had thought, but his moral compass has always skewed heavily whenever his twin is involved and he can feel his frustration and temper rise when Atsumu’s interruptions become more than a slight reprieve, capturing your attention, not even leaving scraps for Osamu to work with. 

And maybe, just maybe, he can admit that he is jealous....jealous of how easy it is for Atsumu to always be himself no matter the situation, no matter who’s around, never a care or worry about what others think of him. 

That feeling festers, slowly boiling, temperature rising, until it comes to a full throttle and Osamu can no longer bite back his typical scathing tone he uses with his brother, icy tone ordering the rambunctious man to leave the two of you the fuck alone. 

“Last time I checked, ‘Sumu, you’re not the one getting married. So either go find someone who’ll be willing to put up with you or find another couple to third-wheel with.” 

Of course that’s not the end of it because God forbid Atsumu grows up and lets Osamu have the last word for once and before he even realizes what’s happening, a body is crashing into his and they immediately begin growling and snarling at each other as they wrestle each other, throwing jabs and kicks, completely forgetting the bystander watching the two men in awe. 

But when your roaring laughter fills the air, Osamu freezes, disbelief and curiosity curling inside of him as he turns to see if that uncouth hyena guffaw is truly coming from you, only to be amazed when he sees you practically bent in half, wheezing, face scrunched in giddy lines as you continue howling in amusement. And despite how “unseemly” your appearance is, he thinks you’re the most beautiful like this, something warm growing inside him when he basks in the essence of your pure joy for the first time. 

Unfortunately it’s short lived and he hides the pout forming on his lips when you notice his eyes on you, murmuring apologies left and right as you abruptly resume your typical ladylike stance and countenance, no proof of the genuine beauty he had seen just seconds ago other than the embarrassed look on your face. And like an infection your shame spreads and he scrambles to his feet (slightly getting one last kick in and hiding a smile at Atsumu’s whine), quickly brushing himself off and deeply bowing and apologizing for his own childish behavior. 

But as he plays the ever perfect gentleman, protectively strolling with you and guiding you back home, the cogs in his mind begin to turn, a determined glint entering his gaze. 

You’re clearly not the prim and proper angel he had thought you were and obviously, you don’t mind his more...explosive side, if your mirth earlier as your fiance rolled around on the ground like a fool is anything to go by. 

Forget prim, proper, and perfect. He wants to know more about who you really are hidden underneath the elegant layers you’ve been shielding yourself with, reveal his own true nature to you, marry your flaws and strengths together as you build a life even better than perfect, something visceral, something real, something more tangible than the whimsical dreams of fairy tale romances. 

He takes the first step, his desire to break down your barriers giving him the confidence he needs to be more vulnerable. But even then, there’s slight trepidation as he bustles around the kitchen, wondering what you would think of his cooking hobby, hoping and wishing for your acceptance and approval despite how uncommon, maybe even looked down upon, it is in your society for a man to be rummaging around a woman’s domain. 

But he’s good at what he does. He knows he is. And with that thought, he resolves himself to skillfully molding the onigiri he’s renowned for among his own clan, taking extra pains to make sure each one is perfectly filled, shaped, and decorated, snooping around and subtly asking your clan mates what your favorite flavors and ingredients are and incorporating them. Pleased with the final results, he sends a message for you to meet him in a secluded section of the park the two of you often frequent. 

Used to Osamu coming to your chambers and walking with you right from the start, you’re surprised by the request to meet him and your heart flutters when you realize the specific location he’s chosen is one you run away to and use to hide from the world when you just need time and space for yourself, a location you’ve never told anyone about before, a safe haven and oasis you call your own. You’re surprised by how little you care about sharing this secret place with him, something bubbly and warm eliciting a smile on your face as you hike up your skirts and rush towards your fiance, laughing in the wind and ignoring the chiding from Suga and Asahi to “stop running” and “act like a lady”. 

But as you near your destination, you do slow down, nervously gnawing at your bottom lip as your fingers comb through your wind tousled hair, smoothing out your skirts and making sure there’s no leftover signs of your delinquent behavior. And putting years of etiquette lessons into practice, you gracefully stroll towards the man you’re here to meet. Only to be startled out of your picturesque poise by the gorgeous spread in front of you. 

Candles and lanterns flicker in the soft breeze, encasing and basking the area in their ethereal glow. Luxurious rugs and pillows are artfully splayed out across the floor, turning the grassy lawn into the most wondrous lounge you’ve ever seen and it takes all your willpower not to squeal and pounce in the ridiculously plush field. But what really takes your breath away is how Osamu’s chiseled face radiates in the warm light of the gentle fires blazing around him, a smile dancing on his lips when he takes in your wide entranced eyes, and you can feel your face warm, heart beating a mile a minute when you realize that he’s done all this just for you, a woman he hardly knows. And you quickly make your way towards him, blabbering on and on about how this is over the top, how he absolutely didn’t have to do any of this, how you can’t believe he went through all this trouble for you. Only to be silenced when he cuts you off with a single sentence topped with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. 

“I did it because I wanted to.” 

Stunned and still overwhelmed that almost a complete stranger has done something so lavish, so special, so selfless, just for you, you obediently let him beckon you and guide you to a seated position, sighing in bliss when you nestle among the myriad of fabrics, pleased that they feel just as nice, if not better, than what you had imagined. You excitedly watch as he rummages through the picnic basket he’s packed, realizing then just how hungry you actually are, and once again your jaw drops and you wonder if any of this is real, unsure how it’s possible for him to keep on pulling more and more items from the container until pristine glasses filled with refreshing liquids and ornate porcelain plates heaping with the most perfect onigiri you’ve ever seen entirely cover the empty space of the fabric spread surrounding you. 

Senses still in overdrive, it’s all you can do to mindlessly grab the onigiri he offers you and bring it to your lips. But when your teeth sink into the delicate layers of seaweed and rice, the taste of your favorite filling slamming into your tastebuds, you’re jolted back to reality and suddenly any decorum you’ve learned is thrown out the window and Osamu bursts out laughing, a pleased flush on his face when you begin raving and practically dancing in your seat about how delicious the rice ball is as you simultaneously shove more bites into your mouth, your cheeks expanding not unlike the little chipmunks he sees prancing around the area. And when you realize just how unrefined you appear as the last bits of the onigiri are swallowed, an embarrassed apology on the tip of your tongue, he boldly reaches out to grab your hand, lacing your fingers with his. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m glad you enjoyed them so much.” 

But it’s his turn to be embarrassed when you tentatively sidle up to him, allowing your bodies to touch as you lean into his side, continuing to hold his hand, looking up at him under fluttering lashes as you ask him where he’d gotten the food from. And this time it’s he who quietly murmurs that he had actually made these himself, apprehensive of what your reaction will be to finding out this secret tidbit, only for his own jaw to drop and gape in surprise when there’s not a second of hesitation or judgement as you look at him in awe, begging him to teach you his recipe. 

Needless to say, whispers and rumors run amok as Osamu and you hog and hoard the kitchen at all hours of the day and night, some older and more traditional maids and servants looking on scandalously as Osamu rolls up his sleeves and slaves over pots and pans, the majority of your clan and Inarizaki just rolling their eyes with fond smiles on their faces as they watch the two of you in a flurry or chaos, food everywhere, stains on your clothes when the both of you proudly share your finished products that everyone, even those grumpy old naggers, enjoys.

One day, when the kitchen becomes particularly messy as Osamu accidentally spills flour all over you in his attempt to reach for the highly perched bag, there’s a brief moment of tension when you loudly gasp as white powder swirls all around you and your fiance awkwardly stands in place unsure whether to laugh or be mortified about the mess he’s made of you. But just as he comes to his senses and frantically looks around for a towel or rag to help clean you with, he yelps when something collides with his head, shortly followed by a cold slimy trail slipping down the nape of his neck, whipping his head around to look at you in shock. 

When he sees the bowl of eggs strategically placed next to you, the broken eggshells at his feet, and the smug grin on your face, he stands at attention, meeting the challenging look in your eyes with his own competitive gleam. And then there’s only a whirlwind of commotion as the two of you scream and uproariously giggle, racing around the kitchen, ducking behind cabinets, finding anything and everything to chuck at the other, only stopping when Daichi and Kita finally put an end to the madness, trying to stay stern as they bite back their own laughter and relief at seeing the two of you get along so well. 

The two of you profusely bow in apology, swearing you’ll clean up the mess you’ve made, but the second your two clan heads leave, you simultaneously peek at each other, softly chuckling at how filthy you both look. And as Osamu carefully plucks bits of egg shells from your hair and as you affectionately wipe his face clean of flour, eggs, and everything else that’s managed to get stuck, the two of you feel the stirrings of something more than just duty and responsibility, more than even just friendship or attraction, growing inside of you. 

That feeling expands and blossoms inside the two of you, never ceasing to move and swirl inside both your hearts before clamoring into a resounding crescendo on your wedding day. And as Osamu and you both try to fight back tears of happiness and belonging, tears of everything falling into place, tears of life just making sense when you stand beside each other at the altar, the two of you thank whoever’s listening that you’re bound to each other for all of eternity. 

The wedding is a joyous and rowdy affair and your stomach aches from laughing nonstop, feet sore from never ending rounds of dancing, eyes and hands unable to to be torn from your husband who is likewise as enamored as you. Both of you just stick out your tongues and ignore the teasing gags and hollering from both your clan mates as the two of you remain glued to each other all night. And as the evening draws to an end and Atsumu drunkenly shouts at both of you to get a room, your face heats and your stomach swoons when Osamu just cheekily smiles back and says that the both of you will do just that before swooping you up in his arms and carrying you out bridal style, wishing everyone farewell as he whisks you away to the amusement of your friends and family, raucous encouragements being shouted in your wake while you hide your embarrassed face in the crook of his shoulder, meekly waving goodbye to the cheering crowds. 

But that atmosphere changes when you enter the room set aside for the two of you to spend your wedding night, the first evening of your lifelong union, and it feels like all those moons ago when the two of you first met as slightly trembling hands wrap around each other in a tentative embrace, lips hesitatingly pressing against each other in an inquisitive manner. Fingers brush against buttons, zippers, and ribbons. Fabric rustles as they’re shakily removed and placed aside. And then it’s just the two of you as you are, nothing hiding you from the other as eyes and fingertips gently roam and explore new territory. 

It starts off slow as the two of you take your time mapping every line and curve now laid bare for your greedy eyes and hands, tasting each other, revelling in the little moans and grunts that fill the room as pert nipples are teased, teeth nip at the junction where neck meets shoulder, hips languidly grind and rub against each other. 

Osamu’s head falls back as your fingers curiously wrap around his throbbing shaft, testing different strokes, and he returns your actions by slipping one long finger inside of you, hungrily staring at the way your mouth unconsciously opens, a tiny mewl escaping you from the delicious intrusion. You try your best to keep up your ministrations, gliding your hand up and down the velvety warmth heavy in your hands, but your movements become sloppy as the silver haired minx on top of you teasingly takes his time, painstakingly prepping you and stretching you out, only adding a new finger when your hips desperately shake and squirm in a silent plea for more. 

But even three fingers in, it’s not enough, and you can’t help the petulant whine that leaves your mouth, the wanton begging for your husband to hurry up, eyes practically rolling in your head when he finally presses the tip of his cock against your fluttering and wanting entrance, eagerly awaiting the feeling of his shaft filling your desperate hole. Yet Osamu has different plans and you let out a choked sob when instead he slides the tip of his erection up and down your sensitive folds, patiently watching your building slick coat his mushroomed head, making sure you’re completely ready to take him. 

You snap at him, tears beginning to form in your eyes from the denial and frustration, words coming out more demanding and bratty than you had intended as you order him to get on with it already. But you immediately regret your actions, whimpering when dark eyes sternly stare you down, pinning you in place and forcing you to clamp your mouth shut. 

“Who knew a virgin like you could be such a demanding whore.” 

The demeaning words have no right to affect you the way they do and you only become more agitated, a lance of arousal piercing through you and making you squirm from his tone and choice of phrase. You want him. You need him. And you thrash underneath him, futilely trying to force his cock inside of you, only to sob and submissively freeze at his next words. 

“Stop moving or I’m going to tie you up and tease you all night.”

You feel like helpless prey, no fight left in you to resist, your energy spent obeying him, trying your best to stay put, fingers clawing into the rumpled bed sheets underneath you. And Osamu feels pride swell in his chest at how good you are, how perfect you’re behaving for him as he takes his time, fingers curling and gliding against your gummy walls, scissoring as they go in and out of tight hole, not stopping until you’re literally gushing, leaking juices everywhere, salty watery trails leaking from your eyes as your body shivers from pent up arousal and desire. 

He can’t take his eyes off of you as his cock begins to breach your drenched entrance, enraptured by every flutter of your lashes, every change in your expression as he sinks deeper and deeper, branding every moment in his memory as you allow yourself to touch him, digging your nails into his upper arms as you come to terms with the sensation of being stuffed full. You moan, sinking into the tender kiss he offers as he finally bottoms out, tongues swirling around each other as you soak in the feeling of being so intimately connected.

But Osamu smirks when you make it known that enough is enough and he lightly bites your lower lip in playful punishment when you insistently rock your hips, hissing when you clamp down on his cock and let out whining sounds, too far gone to even verbally tell him what you want. Maybe next time he’ll be stricter about your bratty tendencies, but he supposes you’ve done well considering it’s your first time together and he relents. 

A high pitched keen echoes through the room as Osamu picks up a steady rhythm, neck arching and mouth falling open as his cock drags against your walls with every snap of his hips, drowning in how deep and purposeful every stroke is, panting loudly as his heavy balls slap against your ass. He groans when your legs instinctively wrap around him as he brings a hand to fondle your aroused clit, forcing him closer, deeper, unwilling to leave any space between the two of you. And he’s on the same page as you, his torso leaning down, the new position having him hit new places inside of you that have you gasping, as he takes one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, sucking and watching in dark amusement as your eyes roll back in your head from all the stimulation. 

He swears he could die happy like this, his cock enveloped in your tight wet warmth, your delectable tits in his mouth, your face contorted lewdly as pleasure wracks through the both of you. But you have a lifetime together now, endless time for him to play and ruin you any and every way he wants. So he focuses his attention solely back on you, releasing your nipple with a wet plop before leering down at you, a predatory razor sharp grin slicing across his handsome features, internally cooing at how you tighten around him as you nervously gulp. 

“Your breasts are delicious, love. Can’t wait until I knock you up and your tits swell with milk. Bet it’ll taste so good. Wonder if there’ll be enough for the kids and me. Maybe we can save some for any more baking experiments we try. Would you like that? Want me to turn you into a pretty cow housewife? Maybe I’ll just keep you in the kitchen with a breast pump attached to you when I’m busy with work. Turn you into just another piece of useful kitchen equipment.” 

This time he doesn’t hide his amusement at your expense when you respond by breathily chanting his name over and over again, telling him how close you are between little gasps and mewls as he continues pistoning in and out of your slick pussy, his pace increasing, rhythm beginning to rocket out of control as his own end becomes imminent. 

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t wreck you first and he continues his verbal onslaught, low drawl teasing as he tells you what a slut you are for getting off on his humiliating words, praising you for how amazing you feel and look, like you were made for him, like you were made to be used and fucked by him, only him, for the rest of your life- 

Your wail cuts him off as you tumble over the edge, half screaming and sobbing as you’re forced to delirious heights and depths of pleasure you’ve never felt before, nails leaving wicked red marks in their wake as you claw at him out of pure instinct as he continues fucking in and out of you, losing any control and restraint he had as he chases his own end. Your pulsating walls milk his cock for all its worth and he groans, slamming fully into you one last time as he spills thick white spurts deep inside of you, 

And then there’s only quiet intermingled with the sounds of both your panting breaths as you bask in the afterglow, humming in content as Osamu slowly lowers himself, making your husband chuckle in surprise when you tighten your legs that are still wrapped around him when he threatens to pull out and lay down by your side. 

How can he deny that tired pout on your face as you silently nudge him back on top of you?

So he remains buried inside of you, letting himself be manhandled into laying on top of you and merely rolling his eyes fondly as you treat him like an oversized body pillow, your legs and now your arms wrapping around him, holding him tightly against you, uncaring of how the both of you are still covered in your combined messes. And as he watches you fall into a deep slumber, body exhausted, a blissed out smile on your face, he allows his own eyes to close shut, telling himself that he’d just clean the both of you up whenever he woke up, thankful that of all the people in the world that he could have been married off to, fate chose you.   

[royallyjoon]

nephilim (quatre)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere! ot7 x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, violence, manipulation

undoubtedly, the boys have opened their arms and hearts to you. but have you done the same? life has only gotten more stressful for you, and the closer you find yourself getting to them, the more you feel as though you are changing, and the more you push yourself away. you refuse to break. never forget: one’s hubris could be their hamartia. forge your lonely path with conviction. after all, it may not be yours for much longer. the victor or the fallen--exactly who is it that stands to lose the most?

——————————————————————

For a long time now, you had feared that your relatively peaceful days in Ichabod were coming to an end, and recent events only further proved your point. 

Mana’s forewarning carried its weight well, as Aemilia seemed dead set on making an enemy of you. She went from hardly acknowledging your existence to cursing it. 

She would never lift a finger to do her dirty work, oh no, for how could the delicate Augustus princess stoop so low as to take the garbage out herself?

No, she used her puppets Brooklyn, Constance, and whoever else she managed to sink her claws into in the student body to torment you. 

They tripped you in the halls, stole your belongings, and essentially made it difficult for you to bleed into the background like you used to.

Luckily for you, you happened to gain some formidable allies.

Mana was there to tell Aemilia’s lackeys to back down, and they wouldn’t dare approach you with Jimin around. And he happened to be around more often than not, strangely enough.

The three of you managed to form a strange alliance during this time. Your best friend was still extremely cautious around Jimin and his siblings, as were you, but they had gotten somewhat closer, which made you glad. You didn’t want to be the bridge between them, as you thought that would be tiring and more than you could already handle. 

Still, the two were only human. They wouldn’t always be there to defend you. Nevertheless, you were quite capable of defending yourself. 

You didn’t give Aemilia the satisfaction of breaking under her pressure. You held your head up high despite the amounts of rumors flying around the school about you, even if they made you want to split your own skull open. 

The student body, in part, was divided. Half of them wanted nothing to do with you, considering how you were associated with both the Augustuses and the Kims. They were wary of your actions, claiming you were steps away from meeting Wylynne herself. 

The other half whispered about how tired they were of Aemilia’s antics and tantrums, given that this was not the first time she had behaved like this toward another student. 

Two weeks passed by, and neither you nor Aemilia was giving in. The strawberry blonde was beside herself, and so were her poor friends. Every day that she failed to teach you a lesson was another day she went raving mad in private.

Soon enough, her patience would snap. She would find herself going over the tipping point, but the question remains: Who would stand to lose the most when she got there?

It was another stressful day for you at Ichabod Academy as you sat in your lively homeroom. 

Mana rested on your desk, laying their head on their arms. You figured they would be uncomfortable, considering the way their body was twisted around in their seat, but your friend was drifting off without a care in the world. 

You slumped in your chair, looking every bit as done with life as you had recently felt. There was so much you had to be on the lookout for, and today was no different. 

You blinked tiredly and looked at your best friend. You then decided to lay your head on top of Mana’s, who did nothing more than let out a grunt, and closed your eyes in an attempt to get some rest as well.

When Jimin returned from the restroom, he internally cooed at the sight. 

Your head started rocking back and forth as it tilted dangerously on top of Mana’s. Ensuring he wouldn’t wake you, the boy sat you up and leaned your body on him so that your head was resting on his shoulder. 

He smiled down at you in relief. Your classmates took note of his treatment and started to whisper about the two of you, but one look from him and the room quieted.

Unfortunately for you, the peace was short lived. There was a loud crackling over the intercom that shook both you and Mana awake. 

They sat up and glared at their surroundings in annoyance. You opened your eyes in a flash, desperately hoping it wasn’t your first period teacher. 

“Don’t worry, Ms. Diivi isn’t here yet.” Jimin reassured you. “It was just the intercom.”

You nodded in thanks and covered your yawn with the back of your hand.

There was some more crackling and finally, your principal began to speak. 

“Good afternoon, students. I apologize for the interruption, but this is urgent.  Constance Pierre is to report to the principal’s office immediately. I repeat, Constance Pierre to the principal’s office. Thank you for your attention, and please continue about your day.”

You squinted in confusion. 

Constance has never been called to the principal’s office before in her entire life. Even when she was causing trouble for you and other students, the teachers paid no mind and others were too afraid to report her. What could have happened?

The sound of feet pounding against the floor got closer and closer until you could hear it outside your classroom door. A blonde blur passed the room, disappearing as fast as it had come.

“Pierre...why does that name sound familiar?” You murmured to yourself.

“It’s the name of the freshman that went missing.” Mana said as they stretched. “Chance Pierre, I think.”

Your eyes widened in understanding.

“He was-is Constance’s little brother.” They corrected their statement.

Jimin glanced at your shocked expression and suppressed a dry laugh.

Quite frankly, he could care less about the Pierre family. Constance has been nothing but a nuisance to him and his brother.

He’d been willing to overlook the rumors of how annoyingly outstanding and clever the freshman was because he knew his little brother would always be better. 

But after the blonde went so far as to start pestering you, he used the information he’d gathered against Chance in its opportune moment. And he had no regrets.

You snuck a peek at Jimin and saw a familiar, cold decisiveness plastered on his face. It was the only expression you’d been seeing from him for a while now. Any time someone brought up the missing student, Jimin would go frostily silent. 

It reminded you of the difference between the two of you, just like his reaction--or lack thereof--the morning of Chance’s disappearance had.

You figured he was just uncomfortable talking about the situation and was carefully avoiding it, just as he had with you and Mana that first day you spent lunch together.

At least it wasn’t Mom or Mana, you thought to yourself.

“They must’ve finally found him.” You commented, distracted by your incoming thoughts.

Aemilia’s family is specifically in charge of hunting down anyone who can be perceived as a “threat” to the Kim family. Brooklyn Hayes and Constance Pierre, however, acquired social immunity for themselves and their families as the girls are so close.

Or so you thought.

Constance’s disheveled appearance the morning Chance went missing made much more sense, then. She was worried sick about her little brother, and one of her closest friends didn’t even bother warning her or her family. 

You shuddered. Just how many people would Aemilia sacrifice? How far would she go, just for her sick sense of what was right?

You had no intention of finding out.

By lunch time, the rest of the school had heard exactly what happened to poor Chance Pierre.

The fourteen year old boy was deposited in the family’s living room, returned out of the blue just like all of those who came before him. 

His mother had stepped out for a short moment to go grocery shopping and returned to find her bloody mess of a son, who she then quickly rushed to the hospital.

He was covered in bruises, had a broken arm and leg, several broken ribs, and permanent blindness in his left eye. All things considered, he is one of the lucky ones.

His family was just grateful that he was returned to them still breathing.

Whatever the message was, the Pierre family had received it loud and clear. And so had the rest of the town.

No one is allowed to leave Ichabod. Not without being stopped by Death herself. 

Another school day had come to an end, and you walked out the building with Mana and Jimin at your side. 

Seeing how the end of the month was coming up, you and Jimin decided that it would be best if you went over to his house to work on the project again. The beginning of the presentations were not far off and it was about time you completed your research.

It didn’t take long to convince your mother. The both of you found it easier for you to go over to the Kim residence than to ask Jimin if he could come to your home.

You sat on a granite bench outside of the entrance. Mana stood on your left, leaning up against the wall and Jimin sat to your right, perched on the bench. 

You were waiting for Driver Bin and Mr. Waye to show up when you heard a familiar voice call out.  

“(Y/N)! Jimin hyung!” You watched as Taehyung came running out the school doors, Jungkook trailing calmly behind him.

You waved at the two and gave them a tired smile. Taehyung made himself comfortable on Jimin’s lap as Jungkook stood along the wall near Mana.

“Did you have a good day, (Y/N)?” Taehyung hummed, eyes teeming with concern.

“Yeah, it was fine.” You said, struggling to actually mean that statement. 

Mana gave you a knowing look and huffed out a laugh under their breath.

It’s not as though you almost had your things stolen twice in one day.

This morning, Hoseok saw you chasing a junior who was running away with some of your notebooks and folders in hand. 

His charming smile dropped and he gave her a grim look. All he had to do was extend his hand and she placed the items in his palm, which he then promptly returned to you.

Then one of your classmates stole your laptop while you were at lunch in an effort to wipe the thing. Had it not been for Namjoon walking into the library and catching them in the act, you surely would have lost all of your information. 

Thankfully, he safely retrieved your laptop from your classmate. You made a new password for all of your devices and resolved to never let your bag out of your sight again.

“I’m glad you’re coming over again, though! Maybe we’ll get to watch a movie or play some games together.” He flashed you a boxy grin and you sent him a small smile in return.

“Jungkookie’s got loads of games,” Jimin added, peeking his head out from behind Taehyung. “He’s such a hoarder, he rarely lets us play with him. I’m sure he’d let you, though.”

Jungkook punched Jimin in the shoulder, looking at the ground in embarrassment. “Hyung, what are you saying...”

 “Yeah, that sounds nice.” You sighed absentmindedly. “I could do with a break from school and homework for like, the next month.”

The youngest brother flushed, peeking up at you through his bangs. “If you wanted to, I’d be happy to play with you.” He mumbled as he smiled.

“Oh, there’s Driver Bin!” Taehyung called, hopping up and pulling you and Jimin to your feet. 

You hugged Mana goodbye as the black van pulled up to the curb. Just as you turned to follow Jimin, however, someone knocked their shoulder into yours. 

“Oh, sweetie. You should really watch where you’re going.”

Brooklyn stood in your path with her arms crossed. Over her shoulder, you saw Aemilia and Constance standing a short distance away.  They looked as though they were about to make their way towards Aemilia’s family’s car. 

Of course, she could have just walked around you, but why would she ever let you off easy? 

The strawberry blonde wore a satisfied smile and she leaned over to whisper something in the ear of a haggard Constance. Constance merely blinked and nodded in response. 

You smiled at the girl in front of you. “Of course. It was all my mistake. I’m so sorry, Brooklyn.”

You stepped closer as though you were going to confront her and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward you before she could step back.

She fought against you but that only made you grip her arm tighter. You could feel your nails start to dig into her skin.

 “I’m sorry that you’re nothing more than a means to an end.” You murmured in her ear.

The brunette stilled.

“I’m sorry Aemilia couldn’t care less about you or your family.”  You continued, speaking in a low voice. “I’m sorry that your so called friend sees you as mere disposable goods, or should I say...a useful little puppet?”

You released your grip on her arm, bringing your hand up to her shoulder instead and giving it a few consoling pats. “Didn’t your little sister just get the lead role in the school play? I would hate for you to be the next Constance...”

You looked toward the blonde just to emphasize your point and Brooklyn’s eyes followed your gaze.

Constance was staring, unseeing, at the ground, nervously clinging to Aemilia like a lifeline. She was strangely quiet and obedient...like a dog in fear of disobeying its master.

Brooklyn looked back and forth between you, Aemilia, and Constance in utter shock. You sent her one more sympathetic look before moving around her to follow the Kims into their car.

The remaining students whispered, wondering about what you said and in the corner of your eye, you saw Mana tilt their head inquisitively. You knew they had questions, questions you would have to answer later.

You bowed in greeting to Mr. Bin and entered the car behind Jimin like last time, Namjoon going in after you.

Mr. Bin closed the door and walked around to the other side of the vehicle in preparation to leave.

“I’ve never seen Brooklyn look so shocked,” Taehyung said from the backseat. He put his hands on the headrest behind you and poked his head around it. “What did you tell her?”

You shrugged. “Something that could hopefully put her life in a different perspective.”

“I don’t know how you deal with those girls, (Y/N).” Jimin said. “Aren’t you tired of the tricks Aemilia’s playing?”

“Don’t you just want to get rid of them, once and for all?” Taehyung asked, tone darkening.

You shrugged. “For whatever reason, she’s currently obsessed with me-”

The reason being all of you-

“-and of course I want her to stop, but I would never give her the satisfaction of letting her think she won. She’s petty, and a bully.”

You texted your mother an update on your location and locked your phone, looking up at your classmates. “She just needs a reality check. I’d be happy to give it to her every now and then.”

Part of you felt like trying to care for Brooklyn was pointless, especially after the way she treated you. The other part of you felt you were killing two birds with one stone--you were opening her eyes and isolating Aemilia in one go.

While Namjoon and Hoseok nodded in understanding, the rest of the boys couldn’t help but worry. 

They all followed Namjoon’s advice religiously in fear of scaring you away. But what if your independence only made it harder for them to be able to be there for you? What if you never came to them on your own for assistance?

...They would simply have to make it so that you had no other choice, would they not?

But the circumstances were not yet that dire, so for now, you had nothing to fear.

——————————————————————

The ride into the woods was pleasantly silent, and this time you made sure you didn’t fall asleep.

All too soon, Mr. Bin drove the van past the wrought-iron gate and up the impressive driveway. You weren’t as nervous as you were your first time visiting their residence, but you still had your guard up.

The boys bound up the wooden steps and opened the front door, piling into their home. You entered last, quietly closing the door behind you. 

As you were taking off your shoes, you spied a pair of nude slides next to all of the black ones.

Jungkook noticed you looking at them and smiled. “Mother prepared them for you. She saw you wearing hyung’s pair the last time you came over and ordered them after you left with your mom.”

“That’s so kind of her,” you said, slightly in awe. “I’ll be sure to express my thanks.”

You never thought you’d reach the day where Mrs. Kim would welcome you so readily into her home, but here you stood corrected. 

“(Y/N), let’s go!” Jimin called to you from the stairway.

“Coming!” You lay your shoes at the door, slid your feet into the slippers, and went to catch up with him, climbing upstairs. 

The library had hardly changed since you were gone. The shelves were just as dusty and dilapidated as before, and the couch was just as comfortable.

You maintained a safe distance away from Jimin this time as well so he wouldn’t get the opportunity to pull any tricks.

You spent the majority of the afternoon on writing the paper together, as you both had agreed. A few hours later, you finished and decided to get a head start on the presentation.

“‘The strength of a Nephilim depends on which angelic order their parent hails from,’” You read out to Jimin as he added to your shared document from his laptop. 

“‘The sheer majority, however, were parented by those in the third sphere. This was the lowest order consisting of the angels most concerned with the affairs of humans: Principalities, Archangels, and Angels.’”

“Got it.” He claimed, typing out a couple more sentences. “I think we have enough for the background information, but Mrs. Hargrove also wants us to discuss the religions they come from, their abilities and their weaknesses.”

You hummed. “Angels are mentioned in a multitude of religions, but Nephilim are really only mentioned in the Hebrew Bible, according to sources.”

“So that question shouldn’t be so difficult to answer,” He smiled, marking it. 

“Nephilim are really strong,” you said from behind the book cover, fascinated by the information it held. “They appear as ordinary humans on the outside but possess celestial powers bestowed upon them by their angelic parent. They’re faster and stronger than ordinary humans, and are excellent at reading people.” 

Jimin took the book from you and glanced further down in the book to see if he could find more specific powers for your project. 

“Oh, I found something here.” 

You opened your laptop and prepared to type as he read. 

“It says Nephilim possess super strength, longevity, the power of flight, healing abilities, teleportation, telepathy, angelic wrath, illusions, the ability to drain someone’s life force, and telekinesis.” He raised his eyebrow in awe. 

You chuckled as your hands raced to keep up with his words. “Illusions, the ability to drain someone’s life force, and what?”

“Telekinesis, the ability to move things with your mind.” He said. 

“I could use that all the time--like, the other day, I was waiting in front of the student council room to return the uniform I borrowed.” 

You recounted the story for Jimin as he peeked up at you. You were too engrossed in typing, however, to notice his gaze.  “I could have sworn the door was locked, but then Namjoon appeared and it unlocked without him pulling out a key or anything. He just flicked his wrist and open sesame.”

Jimin unabashedly stared at you, a small smile on his face. You always noticed the littlest things about them and it made his heart pound for you a little harder.

“Namjoon hyung always comes in at the coolest moments,” he replied, looking down at what you’d managed to gather so far. “So, we have the powers and where they come from. I think we found a section on their weaknesses the other day.”

“Yeah, it sounds like their main weakness is original sin, or the innate tendency to sin, all humans receive once they’re born.” You thought back to the section you and Jimin read before. “Because they’re part human and part angel, they are constantly at war with themselves and the human side typically wins.”

“Do you think that’s a bad thing?” Jimin asked. 

You closed your laptop. “...What do you mean?”

Jimin shifted, tucking his legs underneath him. “I mean, they’re celestial beings. They have cosmic powers at their disposal, access to the heavens, and everything they could have wanted. But they have a choice to throw it away, to sin, for...whatever the reason may be.” He muttered, glancing aside at the carpet. “If they gave it up, do you think they would have made the right decision?”

You paused for a moment, eyeing the shadows nearby branches cast on the library windows. “It think it depends on the person and what they’re sinning for. Whether they were doing it for their own self interest, or to protect a loved one-”

“What if they were doing it because they loved someone?” Jimin interrupted, eyes widened in curiosity.

Your eyes left the window as you turned to face him. “I would admire their dedication. And it’s not as though they lose their abilities when they fall from grace. I only wish that person would be worth it, and that they’re happy.” 

You smiled wistfully. “An angel losing their wings to love someone for the rest of their life. What a sad, beautiful thing. ’Tis the plight of being human, I suppose. They’re really not that different from us--besides the celestial gifts, of course.”

Jimin grinned and hummed in agreement. 

As always, only you could understand them perfectly.

You stood up from the couch and brushed off the back of your skirt. “Uh, Jimin, could you please tell me where the bathroom is?”

He smiled. “Yeah! You just make a left at the corner, then a right, then another right, and there should be a guest room with a bathroom in it.”

You zoned into and out of your thoughts momentarily and blinked, smiling and nodding at him. “Thanks.”

——————————————————————

Perhaps Jimin told you the directions incorrectly, or you made a left when you should have made a right, but there was no doubt about it. You were lost. There was no bathroom where he stated there was, and you’d been wandering around the third floor for several minutes now with no clue as to where it was.

“Damn this house.” You muttered under your breath. “Only seven people live here, why is it so big?”

You finally came upon what looked like a guest room, one that hopefully had a bathroom inside, when you heard two voices speaking from the behind the partially open door. 

“Seriously. You need to be more careful with these sorts of things.” The first voice said, deep and mature.

You stopped in your tracks immediately.

“It’s not like I wanted this to happen.” the second one spoke. Their voice was much lower and raspier than the first. 

“Of course you didn’t. That’s why you should pay more attention when doing your work.” The first voice nagged and you heard someone hiss.

“Ah, it’s fine. It was worth it. Still, thanks for patching me up, hyung.”

You were stuck near the crack in the door, too afraid to move in fear of being heard. 

“Whatever. You’re too reckless. Maybe this’ll teach you a lesson.”

“Oh, come on. How was I supposed to know that the kid would make such a-”

“Stop talking.” The first voice stated, sounding much lower than it had before. 

Your eyes shook at the sudden silence and you whipped around to look at the hallway, quickly searching for a place to hide.

About two steps behind you, there was a five foot long indent in the wall, courtesy of the prominent display of a large painting.

You risked it and threw yourself backward, stepping as quietly onto the wood as you could before throwing your back up against the indent, facing away from the room. 

And not a moment too soon, as you heard the door fly open the second you were hidden from view. You sunk to the floor in a crouch.

“What’s wrong, hyung?” You could hear the younger’s voice sound from the room much clearer now.

You sucked yourself as tightly into the corner as you could.

There was no response from the older and you strained your ears for a sign, a hint, anything.

Breathing felt too loud, swallowing felt too loud, the brush of your clothes against your neck as you turned your head felt too loud. Everything was deafening.

Please don’t find me, please don’t find me, please don’t find me-

There was the slow, soft padding of feet on the wooden floor. You trembled as it got closer and closer to where you sat. 

In the corner of your eye, you could see a socked foot, inches away from where you hid.

“Jin hyung!”

Your savior, none other than Jimin, appeared at the end of the hallway, yelling in excitement.

You know he saw you, of course he saw you. It was impossible not to coming from his direction. You cast your eyes down, praying he wouldn’t reveal your presence.

He grinned as he ran towards the man. 

“You came back early!” The younger boy tackled him in a hug, wrapping his legs around him. 

The force drove the man back several steps and he grunted, his foot disappearing from your sight. “Jimin, you’re getting a bit too old for this, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but I know you’ll always carry me, hyung.” You heard him giggle. 

“What are you doing up here?” The other voice asked, joining the other two in the hallway. You remained where you sat, not moving an inch. 

“Yoongi hyung! You came back too!”

He scoffed. “Of course I did.”

“Answer his question first, Jimin ah.” You heard the elder comment in a much warmer voice than the threatening tone you heard behind the door. 

“I was in the library working on a project with my classmate. She had to use the bathroom but she never came back, so I came looking for her.”

You blinked rapidly, staring at the wooden floor in front of you.

There was a pause. 

“Have either of you seen her?” Jimin asked.

“...No, we haven’t.” The deep and mature voice, which you now matched to the eldest brother, replied. 

“I’ll just keep looking, then. But you should head downstairs. Father will be home soon, he’ll be pleased to know you’re here!”

Due to the series of complaints you then heard, it sounded as though Jimin took both of his brothers by the wrist and led them to the stairway down the other side of the hallway. 

You waited in that spot for several moments, until you couldn’t hear anything but the wind blowing up against the walls. Once you ensured that they were gone, you ran back down the hallway you came, bladder be damned.

Of course. How could you have possibly forgotten Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s two eldest children?

Kim Yoongi and Kim Seokjin.

Had you not moved when you did, and had Jimin not interfered when he had, you might have...no, you surely would have lost your life in that instant.

——————————————————————

You made it back to the library, quickly and quietly opening the door before rushing in.

Jimin still hadn’t returned, so no one was there to see you fly over to the couch and plop down to sit. You tried to catch your breath to slow the pounding of your heart.

Kim Yoongi and Kim Seokjin. You were almost caught eavesdropping on their conversation.

You had never wanted to purge your memory more than in that exact moment.

What if they suspect I heard everything? What if they have the Augustuses’ people capture me for it? It couldn’t have been that important--it sounded like they were just patching up wounds. Maybe one of them got into a fight? Surely this wouldn’t be enough to warrant such violence. Even they have limits, yes? Then again, when did they ever need a reason to-

The library doors flew open and you flinched, looking up at them only to sigh in relief.

“(Y/N), there you are! Did you find the bathroom alright?”

Jimin’s eyes twinkled playfully as he smiled at you. You restrained yourself from cursing at or hitting him in anger and relief, choosing instead to let out a deep sigh.

“Yeah,” you stated quietly. “It was fine.”

At that moment you received a text from your mother stating that she was downstairs.

"My mom says she’s here. I guess it’s time for me to go.” You stated, beginning to pack your laptop and notebooks away.

“Sure! I’ll come downstairs with you.” He smiled and turned away from you to return The Word of the Lost to its proper shelf.

“Thanks,” you whispered, then zipped your bag up.

Jimin was already gliding away toward the back of the library, the leather bound book in hand, but he still managed to hear you. He didn’t respond, but he smirked triumphantly.

You accepted his silence as a “You’re welcome” and took the moment to fix your composure. When you were both ready, he led the way downstairs.

“My eldest sons have finally returned home!” You heard Kim Moonsik cheer from the living room. 

His tone, usually melancholic and oily, was much lighter today. You surmised that even his mood could be improved by the sight of his family.

He sat on one of the two settees while his two oldest sons perched on the long, gray couch in front of him. 

They both had black hair and dark eyes, like their brothers and parents. One was casually dressed in a large black hoodie and black sweatpants, while the other looked comfortable in a neutral toned sweater and slacks.

The one sitting on the left rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand why you had hyung drag me here a week earlier than necessary, Father. It isn’t that big of a deal.”

Kim Yoongi was notorious for his rebellious attitude. You had heard that since his days at Ichabod Academy, he never listened to authority figures--his classmates were afraid of him and his teachers let him do as he please. The only time he would adhere to rules and tradition was at the required monthly meetings, for obvious reasons.

“On the contrary,” The older man chuckled. “Every time you come home is cause for occasion, my prodigal son.”

“Have some sympathy for me here.” The eldest drawled with his arms crossed. “I get a headache every time I’m forced to drag you home with me.”

Kim Seokjin, on the other hand, was an entertainer. He would lower people’s defenses with a friendly expression and a joke. The citizens of Ichabod found him much more agreeable and respectable as Mayor Kim’s eldest son. They thought him harmless. They fawned over him and Namjoon, praising the mayor for how well he’d raised them in terms of respect and diplomacy.

They were fools. For even now, you could see it as he lounged back relaxedly in his seat: Kim Seokjin may be considered kind and polite, but he was by no means harmless. 

“Do you want me to bring you some medicine?” Jimin piped up from beside you on the stairs, drawing the three’s attention. 

You could feel the college students’ gaze burning into the side of your face.

You kept your facial expression neutral and descended the stairs behind Jimin, who skipped down the rest of them. 

“Who’s this?” You heard Yoongi question.

“This is my classmate, (Y/N). She’s the person I was looking for earlier,” Jimin said, seating himself in between his older brothers.

You bowed toward them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Seokjin smiled and reached out his hand. You extended yours, expecting a handshake. 

He held it, turned it over, and pressed his lips to the back of it. “The pleasure is all ours.” 

Yoongi smirked as you took your hand back, fighting a blush. “How lovely it is to make your acquaintance.”

“Thank you, you too. It’s nice to see you again as well, Mr. Kim.” You addressed the older man.

“You also, (Y/N) dear. I’m simply ecstatic you took up our invitation.” Mayor Kim said, the usual, passionate fire in his eyes blazing. 

You fought back a shudder. 

“You know the entire town needs to be present, Yoongi ah.” Mr. Kim continued the conversation from before. “You’re no exception.”

“I never said I was,” the second oldest retorted. “I just prefer to spend less of my break here.”

“How’s everything at school, Jiminie?” Seokjin asked as Jimin wrapped his arms around his midsection, skillfully redirecting the subject matter.

“Strange, as usual.” He mumbled, hesitantly looking up at you. 

“I heard the police finally found the Pierre boy,” Mr. Kim added, and you suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable in the presence of this conversation.

Where’s my mother? Weren’t we supposed to be leaving?

“Yes, we heard about it at lunch.” Jimin said. His tone when speaking to his father wasn’t as clipped or standoffish as it was when he was speaking to his mother; rather, it was more lackadaisical. “Right, (Y/N)?”

All four heads spun to you, still standing in the middle of the living room. 

“Why are you standing there looking so stiff?” Seokjin sent you a sinister smile. “Come join us.”

This was the last place you wanted to be, but you had no choice in the matter. You smiled awkwardly and shuffled to the empty settee. 

Before you could sit down, however, Jimin jumped up and pulled you to the couch, seating you in his old spot between his brothers. He then claimed the spot on the other side of Seokjin.

You stiffened and relaxed in a second, praying to everything that you didn’t look as uncomfortable as you felt.

The atmosphere was stifling. You couldn’t breathe.

“It’s a shame what happened to him, truly.” Mr. Kim continued, humming in sympathy. “I sincerely hope something like that doesn’t have to happen again.”

How dare he sit here and act as though he had nothing to do with it? What happened to Chance Pierre was his fault! You unconsciously balled your fist in your lap.

“I’m sure everyone will take this lesson to heart, Father.” Seokjin consoled him. “May they never underestimate the power of Wylynne’s grace again.”

“She is holy and forgiving, but some actions need to be punished, yes.” Yoongi added from your right with a cruel smirk. “Praise Wylynne.”

“Praise Wylynne.” Jimin nodded, eyes twinkling with amusement.

It suddenly occurred to you that you were the only one left who had not spoken. When you raised your eyes to meet with the others’, indeed, they were waiting for your response.

“...Praise Wylynne.” You smiled. False religion or not, there was no way you would be testing your luck in front of the divine priest and his sons.

Mr. Kim nodded in approval, then broke out into a laugh. “Wise, hardworking, and devoted; like mother, like daughter. Wylynne surely smiles upon the women of the (L/N) family.”

You laughed awkwardly. “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Will your mother be arriving to get you soon?” Mr. Kim asked you.

“It was to my knowledge that she was already here-”

“(Y/N)!”

Your head spun toward the sound of your mother’s voice and found her standing in the entryway next to Kim Eunbyul. She wore navy blue scrubs today and her hair was pulled back into a bun with a few loose strands in the front. 

You had thought right. The two were a vision next to each other.

Mrs. Kim walked over, bringing your mother with her. “I apologize for the wait--(M/N) and I were having the most delightful conversation. (Y/N) my dear, how are you?”

She sat next to her husband on one settee and your mother took a seat on the other, empty one. 

This was your second time seeing Mrs. Kim, yet you still could not get over her beauty. She wore another silk housedress, a muslin scarf draped behind her back and over her inner arms. 

Her elegance was neither ostentatious nor arrogant. She demanded respect but gave it in return. 

She had what Aemilia desperately sought after but could never possess.

You nodded with a smile, bowing slightly. “Good evening, Mrs. Kim. I’m fine, thanks for worrying. And thank you so much for the sandals, I really appreciate you going out of your way for me.”

The former actress waved her hand lightly as she laughed. “It was no trouble at all!”

She took your hands in hers and looked down at her feet. “Besides, we match!” Following her gaze, your eyes widened. Indeed, you both had the same style and brand of slippers on.

“Thank you so much for the welcoming her so warmly, Mrs. Kim.” Your mother smiled. 

“Of course.” She assured. “Think nothing of it. I already think of you both as family.”

Your heart warmed a bit and you smiled in response to her words, for you already greatly admired Mrs. Kim. To think that she had taken a liking to both you and your mother...

It was then that the rest of the brothers trekked downstairs in curiosity, then heartily grinned once they realized their oldest brothers had arrived.

“How about we let the kids step aside so us adults can talk properly, hmm?” Mrs. Kim suggested, taking her husband’s hand.

Mr. Kim grinned and squeezed her hand in response. “A wonderful idea, love.”

The boys then quickly pulled you away from the main couches, moving your discussion toward the glass windows. 

You looked back at your mom a couple of times while the brothers greeted each other before focusing on the conversation at hand.

The eight of you stood in a circle near the windows, and you were currently stuck between Jungkook and Seokjin. 

“The other day, (Y/N) said she really liked your interior designing, Jin hyung.” Hoseok piped up. “She said she thought the living room was lovely.”

“Did she? She must have impeccable taste.” He playfully winked at you.

You smiled weakly. “Thank you. I really admire what you’ve done with the space.”

Yoongi, across from you, leaned against the glass. “How is everything at the academy these days?” He asked. 

You hesitated to answer then directed your gaze to the floor thinking the question was not meant for you. When you didn’t hear any of the other boys speak, you looked up and found six sets of eyes on you.

Their gazes were so focused and intense, as if you would break or disappear the moment they looked away. You shifted your eyes.

“It’s not the easiest, but isn’t that what high school is like for everyone?” You grimace-smiled.

“(Y/N)’s being bullied.” Taehyung revealed, draping himself over Jimin’s shoulder. “Aemilia Augustus and her lackeys won’t leave her alone.”

This little-

You whipped your head around to see if your mother had heard anything. Thankfully, Taehyung’s voice was lowered at the time. She seemed engrossed in her discussion with Mrs. Kim. 

“The Augustus princess?” Yoongi asked, interrupting your thoughts. 

“She’s what?” Jin started in surprise, his polite smile turning into a displeased frown. He glanced at Namjoon. The student council president simply nodded in response.

“She has the other kids pester or steal from (Y/N).” Hoseok added, glaring out the window. “The students can hardly stop talking about it.” 

Jungkook gently tugged on your shirt sleeve to get your attention. “If she’ s bothering you--” 

“It’s alright.” You assured them before they could really give Aemilia and her people a reason to go after you. “I’m working it out.”

“And how well is that going?” Namjoon snorted, giving you a knowing look.

You grimaced, locking and unlocking your phone. “...I’m working it out.” You repeated, suddenly fascinated by the wooden floor.

“If she ever gives you a hard time, you let me know.” Yoongi said, holding up his fists. One hand was wrapped in bandages and the other hand was bare, knuckles covered in torn skin and still-healing scabs. “I don’t get these from just lying around, if you catch my drift.”

You gaped at his hands and at the offer. Kim Yoongi? Offering to beat someone up for you? Where had his famous apathetic attitude gone?

“Violence is never the answer, Yoongi ah.” Seokjin replied before you could. He gently took your phone from you while it was unlocked and swiped around until he found your contacts. “If you ever need help, just give us a call. Don’t be afraid to reach out. We’ll always be there.”

You opened and closed your mouth in distress. 

Seokjin pointedly ignored the glare Namjoon was sending his way. 

He was jealous of his younger brothers, who got to see and speak with you every day. Earlier, he’d been in the middle of healing and wrapping Yoongi’s injury when he saw your shadow outside the door. 

He’d barely been able to hold himself back from ripping you out your hiding spot and pulling you into his arms. But then all of their progress would have been for naught. 

So he allowed Jimin to drag him away. 

But not anymore.

He understood that you needed your time and space but, really, their angel shouldn’t be so stubborn around them. 

He held the device out to you and you took it back, observing the six newest additions to your contacts list. He’d taken the time to add not just his number, but the rest of the brothers’ numbers as well.

“Thank you,” You confided with a rare, genuine, and small smile, “really. But I can handle it myself.”

On the outside, some of them nodded while the others frowned at the floor.

On the inside, however, they collectively sighed inside their head, tired of your age old response.

They just wanted you to be able to lean on them, to see them as another option that was always available to you, and only you.

How long was it going to take for you to trust them? How far would they have to go to capture the object of their desire?

Whatever the obstacle, they would surely overcome it. 

Your mother called your name once more and you shouldered your bag, replacing the nude slippers with your school shoes.

“I hope you have a pleasant night,” You said to the brothers, fumbling with your shoes. “I’ll see you in school tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow!” Jimin waved you off with a smile and his brothers and parents chorused farewells behind him.

You both bowed once more to the Kim family and descended the stairs, making as hasty but collected an exit as possible.

“I swear, (Y/N), I lose years off my life every time I come to this house,” your mother murmured once you both sat in the car.

“You know what, Mom? So do I.” You exhaled, slumping down in the front seat. “Drive slowly, won’t you? I might be the one throwing up once we reach the edge of the woods.”

Your mother barked out a laugh and nodded in thanks to Mr. Bin as he opened the gate. 

As you drove away from the Kim family home, you opened your messages and texted Mana, updating them on how you’d nearly lost your life this time.

That night, you ate dinner, cleaned up, finished other assignments, and had an hours long conversation with Mana about Brooklyn and your latest visit to the Kim residence.

The way their eyes bugged out of their head when you told them about how you’d nearly gotten caught made you laugh. Of course, it hadn’t been funny in the moment. Even thinking about it now made you slightly nauseous.

But you went to sleep that night all the same, dreaming once again of haunting, magnificent black wings.

——————————————————————

Once the front door of the Kim household closed, Jimin’s cheerful face dropped into a scowl. 

And he was not the only one upset. All seven of them glowered around the room in the aftermath of (Y/N)’s departure.

Kim Eunbyul and Kim Moonsik sat deathly still on the couch, unprepared for whatever was coming.

When someone is explosive with anger, they are destructive. One might break things, they may say harmful words, but for the most part, one takes their anger out in that single moment.

The seven men behind them were different.  

When they were angry, they plotted. The harder it was for them to get what they wanted, the harder they fought. They made sure there would be nothing that could possibly be in their way. 

“We told you to be patient, hyung.” Namjoon broke the angry silence. “Don’t ruin all of our plans with your ineptitude.”

“Isn’t that a little harsh?” Seokjin scoffed. “I put your number in her phone, too. Try being a little grateful.”

“Don’t disrespect your elders, Namjoon.” Hoseok chided, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We told you to put your dog on her leash.”

“You weren’t complaining when Aemilia’s antics gave you opportunities to help (Y/N),” Namjoon sneered. “I loathe her very existence as well, don’t misunderstand me.”

“You should hear the rumors going around at school, Namjoon hyung.” Jungkook frowned. “People are placing bets on how soon Aemilia’s going to destroy her.”

“I know you’re the brains of this operation but if (Y/N) gets hurt, this is not going to end prettily.” Yoongi stated solemnly.

“I won’t let it get to that point.” Namjoon assured.

“Get it together. And keep that girl in line.” Seokjin nodded.

There was a significant reason Eunbyul was so receptive of the (h/c) haired girl and her mother. 

Despite the fact that she really did enjoy your company and was happy to welcome you into their home, she knew what would await her if she ever dared to mistreat you.

You precious thing. You precious, hardheaded, stubborn thing. Why did you not give in to what they wanted? Could you truly not see how much they how much they longed to protect possess be with you?

Perhaps you’ve already started picking up on it, and this was why you wanted to distance yourself from them before it was too late.

You beautiful, foolish thing. It was already far too late.

Eunbyul quivered, squeezing her husband’s hand. Moonsik wore a stony expression on his face, but he squeezed his wife’s hand back with surprising strength. 

When she looked up from her lap, she gasped, for Jungkook was squatting directly in front of her. She felt as though his dark gaze was piercing her soul.

The probability of that very thing happening in this instant was high.

She exhaled and carefully avoided his gaze.

“Mother, Father,” he hummed, “is everything alright? You’re shaking like leaves in the wind.”

“Oh dear.” Taehyung replied, resting his arms on the back of the settee behind them. He tilted his head and frowned down at the two as if they were insects, scurrying around in an attempt to escape their deaths. “That doesn’t sound very good.”

“I’m sure it was just a result of them working so hard.” Seokjin smiled at Moonsik. “I must say, I was impressed.” The elder simply nodded and avoided his gaze.

Namjoon strolled over to Eunbyul’s side of the settee and gently pat the woman on her back. “Your performance today was especially moving, Mother.”

“At least she wasn’t trembling in front of (Y/N) like she did last time,” Jimin kissed his teeth. “Useless woman.”

Hoseok bent over in laughter, the outburst shortening into a light giggle as he joined them by the couches. 

“They work diligently, why not praise them once in a while?” He suggested, suppressing another laugh.

“Like I’ll ever.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “I really hope you know what you’re talking about, Namjoon hyung. I’m going to bed before I feel the need to hit something--or someone.” Jimin glared and bounded back up the stairs.

“It’s alright. We’re fine.” Eunbyul forced out. “Thank you.”

“Yes, you should be. If you weren’t, it would imply you did something wrong.” Yoongi smiled.

“And if you did something wrong,” Jin continued, “...well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

She stiffly nodded. 

“Of course not.” Taehyung grinned and pat her head condescendingly. 

“Of course.” Moonshik repeated, willing his hands to stop trembling.

He had never expected this to happen. He never thought he would be living the life that he did.

He had called for power, and he had surely received it, but not in the way he thought he would.

Was the insurmountable power worth the treatment he received in his own home?

Yes. And if he had to repeat it, he would have made the exact same decision. It would surely be worth it. That was what he told himself day in and day out, the prayer he spoke to his god in an attempt to convince himself of the lie.

It would surely be worth it.

“We’re trusting you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim.” 

——————————————————————

The Augustus residence was a fairly old building, a beautiful family manor transformed into a modern, affluent home. It stood in the center of the city, as their family used to be the epicenter of society. 

Aemilia found both her home and its location extremely fitting. 

As unfortunate as it would be that she would have to move from this stately home to one in the middle-of-nowhere woods, she was willing to deal with it. She would follow her future husband anywhere, everywhere, if need be.

Usually, the esteemed Augustus home was silent. 

“How could you?” Brooklyn shouted in anger.

But today, those grand old walls whispered in the wind through quite the ruckus.

“The people that work for your family dragged Constance’s little brother out of his home in the middle of the day! They tortured him for two weeks! You knew where he was the whole time, and you didn’t say a thing!” Brooklyn gestured toward their friend. “She came to you for help, and you slammed the door in her face!”

The blonde had stopped talking long ago. She curled herself into a ball and tucked her head into her chest, looking well on the verge of a panic attack. 

The three girls had arrived at Aemilia’s house earlier, prepared to do the usual: finish some homework, study, and binge watch some shows. 

But (Y/N) (L/N)’s words had been ringing inside of Brooklyn’s head all afternoon. 

A means to an end. 

Disposable goods.

A useful little puppet.

She couldn’t take thinking it anymore, so she finally voiced the dreaded question. Brooklyn asked Aemilia what she and Constance meant to her.

The strawberry blonde tilted her head, staying quiet for several minutes. She then grinned and replied,“My ladies in waiting?”

For Wylynne’s sake. She could have at least been less direct than to compare them to literal servants.

Brooklyn erupted at Aemilia, asking her if that’s what she thought years of friendship had amounted to, thus leading them to their current argument.

For whatever reason, it had never occurred to the brunette that Aemilia may be using her. She thought she had broken the barriers the callous girl held for her long ago, but after Constance showed up at Brooklyn’s house in tears, combined with Aemilia’s response to Chance’s disappearance...

Perhaps it was time she seriously reevaluated their “friendship”.

“Don’t you think you could have reassured her that he was alive? Even police officers tell family members when people have been arrested.” Brooklyn glared at the other girl.

“Get real, Brooklyn. This isn’t a stupid police station. This is Ichabod. It’s because we live in Ichabod that Chance broke the law, and received his due punishment.” Aemilia justified coldly.

“A fourteen year old boy in laying in his bed, covered in bruises and permanently blind in one eye. But I need to get real because this is Ichabod, and that somehow makes it okay?” Brooklyn raised her volume, disturbed by how convicted Aemilia was in her reasoning. “How could you possibly think that makes it okay?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Aemilia sneered, “I wasn’t aware that I needed your opinion or approval for my thoughts and actions.”

“That’s exactly the problem! This is about you playing us, using us through your actions! I honestly thought we meant more than that to you!” She snarled in response.

“I don’t see a problem with it,” Aemilia shrugged. “You and Constance used me for popularity and safety, and now you come crying to me, claiming that I can’t use you in return?” She barked out a laugh. “That hardly seems fair. How ungrateful.”

The brunette couldn’t deny the benefits that came along with being close to the strawberry blonde, but for her to twist their entire history and friendship into one of utility? She was beside herself with anger.

“Used you? You think we used you? For what?” She roared. “Your money? Your status? Don’t you think we have those exact same things?” 

Brooklyn Hayes and Constance Pierre were not one’s normal, run of the mill best friends. In fact, they were in extremely similar situations to Aemilia, for their families were also members of the old city elite. 

The Hayes and Pierres had lived in Ichabod for nearly as long as the Augustuses. They may not have had the same amount of prestige that Aemilia lay claim to, but they certainly were not far off.

“You grew up with us and thought we were nothing more than what? Walking labels that strengthened your social status? People you could use to do your bidding?” Brooklyn deadpanned. “We were nothing more than pawns in your game, weren’t we?”

“We didn’t befriend you because of your title or your family, Aemilia. We befriended you because we admired you and your personality. We weren’t the ones that twisted your perception of us into toys, or puppets, or ladies in waiting.” She gave a mirthless smile. “That was all you.”

Aemilia paused, reminiscing on her younger days. In every interaction she ever experienced, she was treated like royalty. At some point, she simply assumed it was natural for everyone to bend to her every whim.

Everyone...except for those two.

They had approached her for some childish reason like playing dolls or tag or other, but it was all genuine. 

“I honestly can’t believe you.” Brooklyn shook her head at her silence and stormed around the room, collecting her and Constance’s materials and shoving them into their respective bags. 

“All these years. All these years, and I was that clueless, that hopeful.” Brooklyn muttered as she gave her a cruel smile. “I can’t believe (Y/N) (L/N) knew you better than I did.” 

Aemilia’s face flushed bright red. 

“Your ladies in waiting are going to relieve themselves of their position now.” Brooklyn carefully dragged the non responsive blonde to her feet, holding both of their bags and contacting her personal driver. She curled her lip. “Please feel free to march your way to the throne by yourself, your highness.” 

The door slammed shut behind them, and for a moment, the residence was silent once more.

Then, with an anguished cry, Aemilia picked up whatever textbooks were nearby and vaulted them at her walls.

First, her future husband. Next, her friends. What would that (h/c) haired bitch steal next? Her life?

“No. No. I won’t let it get that far. I would never let you get away with it!” She screamed, hurling another book. 

Her bedroom door swung open and her father ducked the incoming textbook. “Aemilia! What on earth is going on? Brooklyn and Constance just left looking extremely upset, did you three have an argument?”

She dropped the rest of the textbooks, raced to her father and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Daddy, I need you to call up the special squadron.”

Aloysius Augustus held his daughter’s hands and warily pried them off of him. “Whatever for?”

Aemilia flashed him a maniacal grin. “Namjoon just texted me. He says his father believes he’s found in another soul in dire need of discipline.”

——————————————————————

Ever since engaging in this battle of wills with Aemilia, you tell yourself that there isn’t anything that could surprise you anymore.

Yet the actions of your classmates the next morning were strange. Stranger than you could possibly anticipate.

You entered the classroom and found a group of girls standing in a huddle around a desk, whispering to one another.

The room was strangely empty. Neither Mana nor Jimin had arrived yet, nor had some of your other classmates known for coming to school relatively early.

The girls noticed your entrance and quieted immediately. You found this suspicious, so you decided you wanted nothing to do with them. You shifted your gaze away from them and kept on walking to your seat.

That is, until you heard one of them scoff loudly in your direction.

“I mean, just look at her. She walks around the school as if she’s better than us, just because Ms. Diivi had Jimin sit next to her.”

You froze but their tittering only got louder. 

The girl that scoffed before, a classmate of yours named Seph, left the group and stood in front of you with crossed arms.

“You’re not anything special, (Y/N). You shouldn’t mistake yourself.”

The others seemed to agree with her as, soon enough, they left the desk one by one to surround you.

“It’s really pathetic how you practically beg for Jimin’s attention.”

“The other day, when you made him give you his sweater? It was really embarrassing.”

“Yeah, I could hardly stand to watch.”

They imitated your shivering as they laughed, making it look as though you were having a seizure.

“You used to be tolerable at the least, but Jimin transferred to our class and you finally decided to take the opportunity to climb the ranks, huh?” Another sneered.

You could hardly move. You were stuck in place, the words swimming around in your head.

Externally, you stared down at the ground in confusion, but internally, you were shocked. You couldn’t believe the accusations the girls were coming up with.

Even after everything this town had been through, the Kim brothers still had some sort of deluded fan club...and now they were coming after you.

“What the hell?” You finally said, lifting your head to look each of them in the eye. “Why would I go begging for his attention?”

“Don’t try to deny it, bitch.” Seph snarled. “You used to keep your head down and mind your business like the rest of us, but now, all of a sudden, you’re relishing in the spotlight.”

“We’ll see just how much Jimin likes you soon enough.” One of her lackeys snickered.

They left you where you stood, turning their attention to the doorway.

You could see Jimin from the glass window in the door, waving goodbye to Taehyung as he headed off to his respective classroom. He reached down to twist the knob and pulled the door open.

Had you blinked, you would have missed the entire thing.

Seph pulled a bucket out from under the desk they were all crowded around and threw its contents all over Jimin.

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth in shock as he was doused in water from head to toe. His uniform was soaked and his hair lost its floofy nature, flattening down over his eyes.

One of the girls ripped the bucket away from her and shoved it into your hands. They moved back in tandem, shocked gasps hiding their deeds as Jimin wiped water out of his eyes, which landed on you holding the bucket.

“(Y/N)...?”

You were just as shocked as he was, mouth agape. The evidence was completely against you.

He looked up at you with teary eyes. He looked hurt, so angry, you figured there was no way you were going to get out of this.

“I didn’t do it, why would I?” You protested.

“Jimin, are you alright?” The ringleader picked back up, skillfully concealing a triumphant smirk with an open look of concern. “(Y/N), how could you do such an awful thing? Especially after he’s been nothing but kind to you...”

Wow, does she get lessons from Mrs. Kim or something?

You dropped the bucket in surprise. “No! Jimin, it wasn’t me, I promise, they just grabbed the bucket out of nowhere-”

This is it. My mother is going to have to bury her daughter young. I failed to provide for her, or thank her for everything she’s done for me. Your thoughts couldn’t stop racing. 

“Even for a prank, that’s a bit much, isn’t it?” They continued behind you.

“She’s been acting all this time. I’m not surprised.” 

“He treated her so well and it all just blew up in his face.”

“That’s just like her.”

“She’s lying directly to his face, how fake.”

“Disgusting.”

They continued spouting lies in front of Jimin, telling him about how you were only using him, how you would curse his very existence behind his back. 

Jimin approached you, his wet shoes squeaking on the tile floors.

You backed up, intimidated, bumping the back of your leg against another desk and falling to the floor.

...Would begging help? 

When you finally looked up at him, begging felt like an appealing option.

Jimin’s eyes glistened, chocolate colored irises now hardened and flashing gold.

They were even colder than the ones you’d seen in your dreams, and you felt the temperature around you drop considerably.

You must have been going crazy with terror, something that wasn’t completely amiss in your town. The girls behind you were feasting on the fearful expression in your eyes.

Then, right as you were about to stand, Jimin gently put his hands on your elbows and guided you up.

To their surprise, he tugged you to your feet, wrapped his arms around your shoulders, and pulled you in for a hug.

“You must have been so scared, weren’t you, (Y/N)?” Jimin whispered in your ear. “Those rats dared to mess with you. They tried to come between us with petty rumors and tricks. It’s okay, I’m here now. I believe you.”

He rubbed his hand up and down your back, the water from his uniform seeping into the front of yours. “I’ll make sure you have nothing to fear.”

Jimin pulled away from the hug, smiling at you. He then turned to face the girls, and with that same chilling smile, spoke.

“You all enjoy playing pranks, yes?”

The girls’ expressions changed in a matter of seconds, from snickers and taunts to tearful pleads.

Seph could hardly pick her jaw up off the floor. “Jimin! It was (Y/N), we all saw her-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” You heard a low chuckle sound from the doorway and whipped your head towards the sound.

“I saw everything with my own eyes.” Hoseok stood in the entrance, his arms crossed as he leaned against the door frame.

When had he gotten there?

“And quite frankly, I don’t take too kindly to you lying about what happened to my darling little brother.” His famed smile slipped from his face as he stared down the girls with more hatred than you’d ever seen him possess.

“Jimin...” you reached out to get his attention, but he couldn’t pry his gaze away from the detestable scum that stood before him.

How quickly the tables had turned, you thought as you watched them cower.

Jimin calmly walked toward her and tucked his hand underneath her chin, yanking her ear to his mouth.

He directly whispered into Seph’s ear, but everyone in the room besides (Y/N) heard the same thing, the message pulsing loud and clear inside their heads.

“I’ll make you wish you had never done that.”

He left the group huddling against one another in fright.

“You’ll have to try harder than that.” Hoseok smirked and kicked off the door, walking off with his hands in his pocket.

You stood, incredulous at what had just happened.

“Jimin.” You lay your hand on his shoulder and he covered it with his, turning to meet your gaze. His eyes were wide with expectation.

“Let’s go see your brother, we can get you some new clothes.” You said softly. He smiled serenely and nodded, dragging you to the door by the hand.

Before you could step out, however, he turned around to face them and glowered. “Clean this mess up.”

Seph whimpered and knelt down to pick up the bucket. The other girls scrambled to collect paper towels to dry the floor.

You watched them, trying to conjure up some form of sympathy. That could have been you, cowering beneath him. Moments ago, that was you.

Frighteningly enough, that familiar, heart-strengthening feeling made no appearance. There was no hatred, no remorse. You felt nothing as you were dragged away to the third floor.

Jimin knocked on the door to the student council room, smiling as he spotted his brother. Namjoon, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Hyung! I need a new uniform.”

He stepped back to let the two of you enter. Jimin released your hand and beelined for the atrium, grabbing a new shirt and a pair of pants. He then stepped into the bathroom and loudly shut the door.

“Do you mind telling me what that was all about?” Namjoon looked down at you for a moment before his eyes flew up and he stared at the wall with newfound interest. “Feel free to grab a change of clothes as well.”

You followed his gaze and jumped at just how wet the front of your shirt had gotten. “Thanks,” you muttered, desperately hiding your blush.

I’m seriously finding myself back here too often.

You got another polo from the closet and left the door open as you changed, praying that Jimin wouldn’t leave the bathroom and that Namjoon wouldn’t walk around the corner. To keep him busy, you filled him in on what had happened moments before.

When you were finished, you stepped out into the main room with your wet shirt folded over your arm. Namjoon leaned against the wooden table with his arms crossed. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked as though he didn’t know whether to laugh or punch someone.

You glanced at Namjoon and thought back to the way he looked at the people around him.

It quickly dawned on you how bothered you were by Namjoon’s view of everyone around him as some sort of game. 

He always wore an amused smile on his face: when he was looking at his mother in his family home, when he heard what Constance did to you, when he saw all of the students worrying over Chance, and whenever Aemilia and her antics were brought up.

He probably thought he was so clever at hiding it, at being the misfortunate yet accomplished gentleman that everyone perceived him to be, but you saw right through his act.

“The audacity they have to dare make such a ruckus on school property,” He clenched his jaw. “Don’t worry. They will surely receive proper punishment.”

You nodded, eyes glazing over with indifference.

You were too grateful that it was not you or Mana and too exhausted to be concerned with the affairs of other students.

They should have been prepared for this, at the very least. You were only worried about the well being of you and your loved ones.

Did that make you incredibly selfish? Did that make you just like...them?

A hot flash of anger rose in you and died as quickly as it had appeared.

Perhaps Namjoon’s act angered you because it was so similar to, no, better, than your own.

Your face twisted in response to your thoughts. “Thanks for the help. I’ll be sure to pay you back. Tell Jimin I’ll see him in class,” you muttered and bowed then left, needing to separate yourself from them as soon as possible.

Namjoon watched you leave, intrigued by the sudden look of displeasure you wore. “...She noticed,” he chuckled to himself.

"She must not have liked it,” Jimin said as he walked out, fully changed. His hair was still a little wet, but it was nothing he couldn’t take care of later.

Namjoon scoffed.

His little brother subsequently seized opportunity of your absence to explain to Namjoon just how delightful you looked in front of him.

“She looked as though she were about to beg, hyung. As gorgeous a sight as it was, those lower beings had the nerve to send her to her knees.” Jimin growled. “They terrified her, made her think I was going to hurt her.”

“What would you like to do with them?” Namjoon asked him as he leaned against the wooden table, a familiar smirk on his face.

By the end of homeroom, those girls were removed from your section. By the end of lunch, they had left your class and the school completely.

——————————————————————

The final bell rang and you lifted your head off your desk. You’d been trapped in your thoughts since earlier today, but your class schedule had given you no time to focus on your inner monologue.

Someone’s finger tapped your shoulder and you snapped out of your thoughts, directing your attention to them. 

A freshman stood before you nervously and passed you a folded piece of paper. 

“Thanks,” you muttered.

The kid nodded and scurried out of the classroom.

You unfolded the paper, reading the slightly disorganized handwriting. 

You and me, (L/N). Show up alone. Rooftop. 4 pm.

You didn’t even need to ask the kid who it was from.

“This is the game you’re going to play?” You mumbled to yourself. “You still can’t even confront me face to face.”

Unfortunately for you, you already were alone. Mana never came to school today, as they had gone with their father to visit their grandmother at her nursing home, and Jimin was going to be in robotics club for the next forty-five minutes or so.

Then again, Brooklyn and Constance didn’t look like they were attached to Aemilia’s hip today either. The brunette spent all of lunch sending her a bunch of particularly nasty glares from across the cafeteria.

You eyed the clock. fiddling with your phone. After several minutes of deliberation, you opened it to text your mother that you would take yourself home today. 

Let’s get this over with.

Approximately thirty minutes later, you shouldered your back pack on and made your way to the school staircase. 

You texted Mana an update on where you were going and what you were going to do, just in case. After a second thought, you also texted Jimin.

They must not have had their phones on them because they didn’t text back immediately, so you locked yours and put it in your pocket.

When you finally arrived to the rooftop, you saw Aemilia standing near the edge, strawberry blonde ponytail swinging in the autumn breeze.

You already weren’t feeling well and wanted to go home several hours ago. Alas, you were here. 

Your school rooftop was moderately large; appropriate, considering the size of the building. There was nothing up there but a few stacked, forlorn chairs, scattered materials, and blocks of concrete that functioned as storage spaces.

“What do you want, Aemilia?” You asked tiredly. 

She didn’t say anything, nor did she turn around. You walked a couple steps closer to her and stopped. “Hello?” 

“Did you enjoy yourself, (Y/N)?” She asked, her back still facing you. 

You squinted in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you enjoy taking everything away from me? Everything that I deemed mine?” Aemilia finally turned to face you. 

On the outside, she looked no different than she had a couple of days ago, but her eyes seemed...hollow.

“I didn’t take anything from you.” You pointed out. “Though, it sounds like you finally realized how skilled you are at pushing people away from you. That has nothing to do with me.”

“Don’t lie to my face.” She croaked out a laugh. “Don’t you dare claim that you haven’t stolen anything of mine.”

Her gaze turned malicious. “I thought you’d be a bug. Small, easy to crush. I wanted to make you even more insignificant than you already were. Unidentifiable.”

“But the harder I tried, the more I failed to crush you. I wanted to rub you into the dirt, but you kept on escaping unblemished.” She gazed in bored ire at her own two hands as though there was something on them that only she could see.

“So I realized, if I can’t crush you, then I’ll just have to destroy you. Completely.”

Foreign hands grabbed your arms with a vice and you started, immediately fighting to pry them off. 

“Are you fucking serious? What are you doing?” You voice was a mixture of fear and disbelief.

Had your greatest fear finally come true? Were the Kims actually going to make an example of you?

“I’m simply executing my right as an Augustus. I am removing anyone who is a threat to the Kim’s empire. My future empire.” She calmly remarked, nodding tonce o whoever was behind you. 

No. She was doing this for her own purpose. Her sense of order, of what was right in the world.

“Aemilia! You can’t do this!” Your voice raised in pitch and your breathing increased, your blood pumping faster and faster by the second. The hands on your arms were growing tighter and tighter.

“Oh, (Y/N). I tried to warn you several times. You didn’t listen.” She chided with false disappointment. “You did this to yourself.”

“Are you scared? Have you now realized your wrong doing? What a shame.” You watched in horror as a deranged smile crept its way onto her face and Aemilia threw her head back in laughter. “It’s already too late!”

There was no time for her descent into madness.

You stilled for just a second, then rocked your head back and successfully slammed it into your captor’s. There was a low grunt from behind you and the person let you go. You took off without a second thought.

You didn’t even bother trying the school door, as you knew it would be blocked. 

Instead, you ran past Aemilia, shoving her aside as hard as you could, in the direction of the roof’s edge.

The strawberry blonde fell, but her laughter didn’t pause--if anything, it only rose in volume. 

You realized the person had regained control of themself, as they came barreling after you.

Yet you also knew that one floor below you, there was a balcony informally used by all the students as a multipurpose space. To your knowledge, it consisted of old blankets and furniture.

I’d rather take my chances with an old table or couch than these bastards, you thought as you ran towards the eaves.

The closer you got, the harder your heart beat in your chest. You were terrified. But somehow, under all the fear, you were able to rationally think and suppress your fears. 

You willed yourself to keep running and, before you could think about it, threw yourself over the edge.

You were in the air for about three seconds before your captor grabbed you by the jacket and stopped your descent. With surprising strength, they yanked you up and backward, tackling you to the floor. 

Your body met the concrete with a harsh slam and you yelled out in pain. Hopefully, you had received nothing other than a few nasty bruises. 

Aemilia’s laughter had quieted by now and she stood on her feet. She brushed her clothes off with a pleased grin.

“Nice try, sweetie. Mr. Byun, why don’t you give dear (Y/N) here a reminder on what happens should she mess with the Augustus family?” She crooned.

Your captor pinned your hands behind your back and shifted so that they were kneeling on your arms, bones digging into your back. He grabbed you by the hair and slammed your head repeatedly into the concrete.

It hurt.  

It hurt more than when you sprained your ankle that one time walking to a monthly meeting and had to continue walking on it for the rest of the evening. 

It hurt more than when your mother healed a particularly deep cut of yours by stitching it up herself because she couldn’t afford to take you to the hospital.

It hurt more than seeing your mother’s face whenever you asked about your father. 

Everything hurt.

You couldn’t even cry out in pain as it would take up too much of your effort, effort that you didn’t have to spare.

“Thus, I declare myself the victor of our little battle of wills.” Aemilia chirped, not at all disturbed by the violence occurring in front of her.

There was something hot running down your forehead. After a couple of blinks, red crept into your eyes, falling down your face with your tears. 

“Your pride’s going to be the death of you.” You choked out, then winced as the Mr. Byun kicked you harshly in the stomach.

“Should my time arrive, at least I will go out in a blaze of glory.” She said brazenly, beaming with triumph. As she bathed in the light of the afternoon sun, her strawberry blonde hair turned a shocking red.

You blinked blood out of your eyes and squinted up at Aemilia, not that it helped as your blurry vision kept her form shifting in and out of focus.

“Yet I can’t say the same for you.” 

Then the grip in your hair tightened and your face met concrete for the last time, your entire world going dark.

Halfway across the campus, Kim Jimin turned his phone on and felt his heart drop to his stomach as his eyes landed on your text message.

——————————————————————

hey y’all! whew this is a long one--i’m sorry for taking longer than normal to update! thank you all so much for your enthusiasm and love! i adore reading your theories and comments :D i hope you all enjoy this chapter! feel free to let me know what you think will happen next~

~taglist~

@melaninkpops​ @loserwithapen​ @hellaspookystudent​ @ecillartto​ @omgsuperstarg​ @ace-angel-judas​ @jjamsbangtan​ @lovinggalaxies​ @lovesick-heart0​ @ksxmpoison​ @girlmeetsliv3​ @thedarkwinterrose​ @purpuravm​ @oneweirdbean​ @hopelessfountainjoonie​ @mazmaz30​ @enigmaticlove-03​ @uppiespuppy​ @queenceline22​ @kokofikats​ @taeyohonic​ @creatorspalace​ @supertweetycherry​ @anachikartadze​ 

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 20

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader      Content: Language, possible errors  A/N: Some ppl asked for a playlist... so ofc I made one! 

Series Playlist or Chap 20 Playlist

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 20: Little Lion Man

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

When Regulus was younger, his aunt Andromeda and Sirius were obsessed with Muggle stories. Andromeda would send them loads of books every month to the local Muggle post office to prevent their parents from confiscating them. He remembers the ten minute walks there and back, Sirius holding his hand tight, even stopping to buy ice cream during the warmer seasons. They would greet the delivery men and women, picking up a heavy stack of wrapped books before waddling out, each boy mirroring a large grin.

Every night at twilight, when their parents were asleep, Sirius would crawl into his bed and read to Regulus in a hushed voice. He would read a different story every night, lulling him to sleep. Sirius spent hours gushing about the fantastical tales Muggles wrote; how magical and mystical their minds were despite not having an ounce of magical blood. From Superman to Batman, the Joker to Daleks, Prince Caspian to King Miraz; Regulus quickly learned that they all had one common theme: the good guys and the bad guys.

Regulus often spent his time grappling with the notion; what made someone good? Because the definition changes depending on the person.

Were the good guys good because they were selfless — passionate? Those deemed good never let themselves be seen as selfish. The heroes would sacrifice themselves for the greater good, even going as far as giving up their loved ones. Or maybe it was because they went against the odds. But villains did that too.

So he re-worded the question; what made someone bad? Was it their selfishness or greed? Was it putting themselves above others? Did they know they were on the wrong side of history? Make a mistake, once, twice — but surely, that didn’t make someone bad. Did it?

If virtue is understood by both sides, then the bad guys would immediately cross that line time and time again. They lacked wisdom and truthfulness, filled with too much pride and vanity.

But now as he began to grow up far too quickly for a fourteen-year-old boy, he realized that there was more to people than just being good or evil, a saviour or tormentor, light versus darkness.

The definition of good and bad depended on who told the story and Regulus didn’t know who controlled his; him or his parents. The line was so blurred that he couldn’t objectively make the decision himself anymore. Was he more bad than good?

Laughter — rich and inviting beckoned throughout the library, snapping him out of his thoughts again; but it did nothing but chip away at his heart. Regulus got up, shoving his books and parchment into his bag, making sure to hide his face before they saw him. Today, the Marauders had come earlier than expected and he was caught off guard. He’d been doing everything to avoid them out of pure shame.

Before he went to turn, he eyed Sirius from the shadows. He smiled, carefree and happy, clinging onto Pettigrew, ruffling his hair like he once did to him.

What made them so special, so loved and cherished by Sirius? How were they able to make him laugh so effortlessly, able to brighten his day with a mere glance? What made them more of a family than he ever was to him?

But he knew, it was their family’s values and it had been taunting him every waking moment.

It’s not like he didn’t want to escape that night, but he wasn’t Sirius. He was never as bright or strong or as good as him. Sirius was bold and courageous and certainly had more bravery than he would ever have. Regulus was far too weak, a puppet for his parents to control. Sirius was everything Regulus was too afraid to be — a reminder of what he could have turned into.

Besides, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that his parents would have killed Kreacher had he left. And this way with Sirius gone, it left Regulus to be the sole heir. Sirius was free, not being hunted down by his parents now that he bore the title. That was his gift to him, freeing Sirius of all the responsibilities, pain and grief. He owed him that much. Besides, Regulus had already mourned the childhood he never had; that made everything easier.

The day Sirius left was the day before they were set to leave for Hogwarts again and the impact of his absence was massive. He no longer heard the thumping of loud Muggle music nor the clanking of piano keys or doors slamming shut. There wasn’t any screaming aside from his parents shrieking at him for taking his father's wand. The stairs creaked; he could even hear Kreacher padding his way to his room.

It was eerily quiet and lifeless in that damned house, and he was only gone for a day.

Regulus hadn’t been taking it well. Nearly every night, his face was pressed into a pillow muffling his sobs. Sirius had kept his promise, he hadn’t talked to him since.

If only he had a scarlet tie…

Ha! He could laugh; he’d been trying to get his attention in little ways. He’d even gone as far as growing out his hair to match his — coping by writing letters every night with words he wished he could’ve said before storing them in a box under his bed. Forever unsent. Hell, Regulus was a coward, every bit as pathetic as Sirius deemed.

Ever the winter break, his parents were relentless, dumping everything that was meant for Sirius onto him. Letters were sent daily; there were talks about an arranged marriage, lumps of money now being transferred under his name, getting the dark mark… and he was being watched. Every interaction he had, his parents always knew. Especially with Muggleborns; he had to limit his interactions with them to almost nothing, or it wouldn’t end well for either.

His mind reeled back to that night, where his parents and extended family toyed with that blonde Muggle, leaving her half-dead on the dining table, the image branded in his head. It made him sick just thinking about it, he never knew what happened to her, he was too busy trying to muffle out her screams.

Regulus had been questioning everything he was taught. Sirius’ words echoed in his head; was he willing to kill Muggleborns solely because of their blood status? He's a believer in old values and traditions: yes, blood should be kept pure, but to kill Muggles… that was completely different. He’d seen how his dearly beloved aunt was burned off the tapestry, threatened and almost killed for marrying a Muggleborn — a Muggleborn who he’s met and liked and respected. His family tortured them for the sake of it and more. That wasn’t the move of someone good, those were the actions of someone evil; filled with greed, spite and selfishness. But how was he going to stop a whole bloodline from their mania?

Some may call it obedience, the way he’s listened to his parents all these years blindly, but to him, it’s respect. But did he believe that? Did they deserve to be respected? He was miserable and this wasn’t a healthy way to show filial piety.

What did he believe in?

Perhaps there wasn’t such a thing, good or evil, maybe there was only power.

Regulus was lost and confused and most of all, lonely. He remembered Sirius promised him once, before the day he was set to leave for Hogwarts for the first time, that he would never be alone. What a funny thing, promises.

Tears were forming fast and if he didn’t leave then, they would fall any second now. He needed to get out of the library.

Regulus asked himself again; what made someone good or bad — or rather, was he good or bad? He’s veering towards bad.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

After catching word from Mary that Remus’ birthday was approaching, Y/N had been knitting him a sweater in her spare time (or trying to). It was sweet, simple and showed that she’d put effort into it, especially since he taught her. Although, the sweater was lopsided and she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of a certain stitch or how to close sections. Perhaps she should use magic.

Her fingers fiddled with the needle, looping the yarn over the other side. Without looking up, she made a sharp turn into the library before crashing into a hunched-over figure; sniffling and a complete mess.

An apology dangled from her lips before recognizing the figure as Regulus. It had been two months since she’d last seen him and in short, he looked like shit. His skin was grey and lost all sense of a youthful dewy glow. If Sirius had dark eye circles or Remus looked tired, Regulus beat them by miles.

Y/N stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do before gently patting his shoulder. “Regulus?” She asked softly, nothing more than a whisper.

There was a flash of pure terror as he looked up, his eyes nervous as his head spun around to look around the place like he always did. He looked mad, almost unhinged as his hands gently pushed her away, signalling for her to leave. “I — I can’t be seen around you.”

“Can’t? What are you going on abo —” She cut herself off, ignoring the matter entirely. He clearly wasn’t in the right mindset.

His voice was strained, quiet as he kept on murmuring, he almost sounded angry. “You can’t — we’ll both get in trouble. Y/N, go — please… ”

At this, Y/N felt her skin rise in small goosebumps. She looked back to the library, just making out her friend’s figures before looking down at Regulus again. She wasn’t going to leave him like this: crying and delusional.

She took a deep inhale before bending down, picking up her needles and yarn off the ground and slipped them into her bag. She placed a cautious arm around Regulus to keep him upright. “Come with me.” But Regulus wouldn’t budge, not until she flicked down her hood, obscuring her face.

She led him up to the astronomy tower, walking and twisting around before setting him down on a nearby bench, making sure to lock any entrances. They sat in silence, aside from Regulus attempting to regulate his breathing. The cold whipping wind tossed his hair and sank into her bones. With a few charms, they were both warm again, but still able to breathe in the crisp air.

He remained quiet. Y/N didn’t push. Instead, she began babbling softly about random things to distract him. When she heard a sharp exhale of air, mimicking a half-hearted chuckle was when she knew he had calmed down.

“Thank you,” he muttered. It’s quiet, barely above a whisper. Regulus’ cheeks were pink, colour finally returning to him from either embarrassment or the cold.

“Any time,” she smiled warmly. Her hand reaches into her bag, fishing out the snacks that were meant for the study group: blackberries that were for Remus, a muffin for Marlene, were now shared between them. She tried to encourage him to eat, to regain any sort of energy.

He listened without complaint, a tense yet thankful air engulfed them. It was only until he finished the food, about an hour gone by, was when he spoke again. “Why are you being so nice to me.” It’s not even a question, just an odd accusation.

She thinks for a while, searching for the best answer. “I wished someone was there for me when I was going through a hard time.”

“But you don’t know me.”

Her eyebrows raised, “Well, let’s get to know each other then. I’ll tell you something about myself and then you can go?”

Regulus looked up at her with a calculated expression, cautious and looked uncomfortable but he nodded.

“Let’s start simple. I have an owl named Celeste.”

He gulped, looking back to the entrance. His answer came delayed, strained and she wondered if she had pushed him too far. “I play the violin.”

Y/N smiled largely. “The violin is beautiful! Hmm… I can’t ride a broomstick to save my life, unlike you.”

At this, he smiles — a real genuine smile that causes his eyes to crinkle and sparkle. “Really?” His eyes burned with curiosity before he looked down, “I can’t swim.”

“Swim?” She repeats, chuckling to herself, “Who doesn’t know how to swim?”

“You’re making me feel grand. Terribly uncalled for.”

Her eyes rolled, “You should learn. It can save your life one day. Who wants to drown?”

“Maybe I’ll ask McGonagall — I heard for tougher punishments she’ll throw you into the black lake.”

“You’re the perfect candidate then.”

After a while, way past curfew, Regulus seemed cheerier; his tear-stained cheeks now replaced with a smile and relaxation. That day, Y/N unaware, was a day Regulus would never forget.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

March 8th, 1976

“Sirius, shut up.”

“You’re the one yelling!”

“... Right.”

Excused from their afternoon classes because their Puffskein was about to hatch, the Marauder’s dorm was bustling with panic and bickering. When Y/N partnered with Sirius for their project, she expected fighting (which happened every day) but not for Sirius to be like this. He’d been running around the dorm, grabbing warm towels, bowls of water and taking out his panic on her. He gripped his textbook, flicking through notes to see if they had everything. It was as if he was preparing for the birth of an actual baby.

She silently watched him, her mind thinking about Regulus rather than their project. This was the only time she and Sirius were alone and wondered if she should mention his freakout the other day but stopped — it didn’t take a genius to know they weren’t on friendly terms.

Since that night, she’d seen Regulus almost daily, but only at night before their study group. She would spend an hour or so with him before the Marauder or girls came barraging in; Regulus left before they appeared. The entire situation left her deeply confused, worried and most of all, suspicious.

“We need Kettleburn —”

Annoyance began nipping at her. “Calm down.”

“I’m not going to calm down!”

Sirius paced, both firing snide jabs. Too preoccupied in his panicked state, he didn’t hear the quiet cracking of the white shell, forming the shape of a lightning bolt before cascading over.

“Um, Black?”

“Let’s not start. How are you so —”

“Get your ass over here now!”

Sirius pressed his lips together immediately and rushed over, both huddled side by side near the roaring fireplace. The shell twitched, cracking more and they both gasped in amazement. The process was faster than either expected as they saw the small tuft of cream fur peek out along with a pair of black eyes. Its long pink tongue slipped out, already looking for its first meal. Y/N scrambled to grab a nearby dish of dried spiders to feed it while Sirius cradled it in his hand. His smile was wide, buzzing with excitement as he observed it. His hands gently glided over the soft fur as it emitted a low humming sound.

A deep chuckle erupts from Sirius and she could feel the vibrations from how close they were. His laugh, which once made her cringe, now made her skin feel fuzzy and heart flutter. But, it wasn’t like that, she thinks. Of course not! She still wants to jinx him, maybe even throw him into the fireplace. Yes, that’s it.

She snaps out of her violent thoughts when she finds Sirius already looking at her, a pretty flush to his skin as he observes her softly. Her brows crinkled; instead of a frown or on the cusp on an insult, he smiles.

“Do you want to hold it?” Y/N nods eagerly. Sirius shifts his body, placing the Puffskein in the palms of her hands. It’s incredibly soft, adorable and when it leans into her, falling asleep, she swore she fell in love.

“What do you want to name it?” She mumbled, afraid that if she were any louder it might wake it up. Sirius takes a long time to ponder and Y/N braces herself for an insult, already thinking of a plethora of her own.

“It looks like porridge… Oatmeal!”

“Are you serious?”

“I’d be worried if I wasn’t.”

Y/N tries to suppress her smile but fails. The Puffskein did look like a grain of oatmeal. Plain and simple, she liked it.

“Hello, Oats! You’re so cute — I could just eat you up!”

“Morbid much.”

Hours went by before they ultimately decided to head down to Kettleburn’s office for an examination of Oats’ health. Sirius cradled it in a small blanket, shielding it from the rest of the world. Marlene and Dorcas were standing by the sidelines, joining them as they walked past.

“Yours hatched already? Aw, it looks so cute!” Dorcas squealed. Her hands reached out, giddy as Sirius gently placed it into her arms but not without fretting. Marlene only looked down at her with a soft gaze, her face becoming pink as she wrapped an arm around her.

“Give it a rest. She’s not going to drop it.”  

“Now you, McKinnon?! I’m a father now! Our kid deserves the best care! Right, L/N?”

It catches her off guard. Sirius trying to include her in a conversation? That’s a new milestone. “Of course; the proudest parents.”

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

Once done with Kettleburn, Sirius went to bring Oats back to his dorm, parting as Y/N went to find Lily who took her notes for her afternoon classes.

Out in the courtyard, walking around in the snow, both Lily and Snape wandered around before she picked up a snowball, throwing it at him. Snape sent her a deadpanned look as Lily kept hurling snowballs. Most missed him, others hit him before he retaliated and threw some back.

Y/N halted, watching the scene play out and debated whether or not to approach them. But decided to, shouting while striding up to them.

“Petals!”

Lily’s smile grew before her head whipped to her. She stopped her snowball fight, getting up to bounce her way over to her. Snape followed in suit, but as Lily began to babble on and on about what she missed, Snape’s eyes bore into her, vice versa.

“I’ll see you later, Sevy! We need to go,” said Lily, already turning to walk away. Y/N lingered back a pause, just enough to see Snape draw his wand and shoot a spell at her. She had just enough time to block it. Whatever spell it was, it sparkled like a firecracker. If Snape could easily send a hex or jinx her way inboard daylight with Lily just a little ahead, what was he willing to do had they been alone.

His angel persona around her was dropping quickly.

“Whiskers!” Shouted Lily. Her arms raised in question. “Get over here!”

A flurry of thoughts bombarded her before she could process them. She was about to cause a scene, yell and scream until that nasty sneer fell off his face until she felt a tug on her arm. Lily hooked her arm around Y/N, pulling her away. But she still had her wand drawn, ready to block another spell. She tossed one last look at him; he smiled wickedly.

“Are you okay?”

She had enough tip-toeing around Snape. She remained tranquil, gave him the benefit of the doubt and respected their friendship but that was enough.

“No, I’m not actually,” keeping her tone as soft as possible, trying not to sound defensive, “Why do you waste your time around him?”

Lily paused, her eyes going wide. An offended expression crossed her face as she took a moment to digest the remark. “Sev? What are you getting at?” Her tone was guarded which had Y/N debating whether or not to drop the conversation entirely. A fight with Lily was not on her to-do list.

“I just think you should be careful around him.”

“I can look out for myself,” she grumbled, “Severus has been there for me for years. I know how to separate myself from the wrong sorts.”

“I’m only saying this to look out for —”

“I know, but he isn’t like what you’re thinking.” Lily didn’t look mad, just tired as she nodded sharply. Taking a stack of parchment from her bag, Lily handed it to her and walked faster. “You’re around Potter too much. He isn’t like what he says he is.”

Y/N felt annoyance blossom in her chest at the accusation of James but bit her tongue to avoid more conflict. Right now, they trod on dangerous waters.

Neither spoke to each other for the rest of the day.

[cabin7-hufflepuff]

riordanverse characters as mcu characters

percy jackson: scott lang. love their families to bits. both in love with women too smart for them (i mean that in the nicest way). a big reason why the group wins, but not always aware of what they did to help. pasts they aren’t fond of looking back on. somehow 80% of the comedic relief. rocket calls scott a puppy. piper calls percy a baby seal. i rest my case

annabeth chase: pepper potts. the one keeping everyone in line. smart but not the smartest. feminism. hair always up in a ponytail. done with everyone’s shit every day all day. will not hesitate to knock the men down a few pegs. badass

grover underwood: luis. percy/scott’s best friend. can and will ramble about absolutely nothing for hours. has ideas that aren’t always the best, but they’re trying.

thalia grace: thor odinson. it had to be her or jason. lightning wow. love to make fun of their friends goodnaturedly. both have dealt with the loss of a brother they cared deeply about, but didn’t connect with until it was too late. not the biggest fans of their fathers

nico di angelo: bucky barnes. traumatizing pasts. sometimes can't control what they do. gaygaygay. try to shut people out, but fail because yay friendship. both 40s boys who were frozen in time due to one thing or another. both in love with blonde-haired blue-eyed boys, but also had/have a major crush on a specific black-haired guy. ptsd for days. struggle to come to terms with their pasts

jason grace: loki odinson. ok hear me out here. will do anything for their sibling, but don’t always show it. feel neglected by their fathers, but still use their fathers’ names as leverage in dire situations “i am the son of jupiter”/”loki...odinson”. have strong morals and they stick to them

piper mclean: gamora. could probably get anything they want. badass. would not hesitate to hurt/kill their respective ‘bad parent’ (aphrodite/thanos). “you think two boys can do it better than two girls?” i know it’s an annabeth quote, but that’s the energy they give me

leo valdez: tony stark. sarcastic. humor is sometimes self deprecating and a coping mechanism. geniuses. can build almost anything they think of. will protect those closest to them at all costs. willing to sacrifice themselves for the good of the world. short

hazel levesque: steve rogers. so sweet. so kind. so badass. don’t show all that much physical affection. will do literally anything for their closest friend/sibling (bucky/nico). are the positive light at the end of the tunnel for said friend/sibling. “LANGuage!” energy, but still cuss. the while time thing with hazel dying and steve freezing

frank zhang: clint barton. i mean, come on. archery. work extremely well with reyna/natasha. took the leap haha good pun to sacrifice themselves (mainly for hazel/natasha), but ended up alive. aren’t the ‘picture perfect’ that society stupidly deems (frank is a bit chubby/clint is deaf)

reyna avila ramírez-arellano: natasha romanoff or valkyrie. badass. has had extensive training for years in the same place. no one will dare talk back to them. don’t need a man to do their work for them, they can manage perfectly fine on their own, thank you

will solace: stephen strange. this one isn’t the best comparison, but i’m rolling with it. doctors. considered the best of their time. can be one of the most serious when the time calls for it. drains all their own energy in order to save/heal other people

[captainpikeachu]

Steve & John: shared similarities

People have talked endlessly about Steve and John’s differences that made Steve worthy of the shield and John not worthy (plenty of gifsets are all about that), but for me, the contrast of their personalities and how they handle things only really work because the two characters actually share many similarities at their core. And I don’t just mean because superficially they are both blond haired blue eyed white dudes with military experience. 

So in this post, I’m going to talk about the ways Steve and John are much more alike than people would like to admit.

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

1. Shy down-turned smile (also Imposter Syndrome)

Steve always had this shy/nervous downturned smile when someone took a genuine interest in him, and no doubt much of that came from how often he was looked down upon before his transformation. So he’s genuinely surprised/pleased that someone is interested, and a little nervous too. Because even if he is the big strong man now physically, I think there is always that bit of imposter syndrome with Steve where he still thinks of himself as the scrawny kid from Brooklyn and not this big tall hero that people see him as. John when he gets teases from his wife and his best friend in those locker room scenes does this same shy downturned smile, as if he’s still that nervous anxious high school kid with a lot of expectations on his shoulders, a side that he doesn’t really present to anyone but the people he trusts to let his guard down with because John also has a huge case of imposter syndrome as his past experiences and trauma doesn’t make him feel so strong and qualified and heroic. Everyone may call him the hero, but in his heart, he doesn’t feel like the perfect righteous hero that people expects or sees him as. 

2. Discomfort with their public roles + Just want to do the job

Steve was notably uncomfortable being thrown into the USO tours. It’s not what he wanted, it’s not what he intended. He felt like a dancing monkey, performing for people instead of doing the things that he wanted to do to actually help people. And while he reluctantly accepted that all the autographs and fake smiles and acting and fame was part of the job, all he really wanted to do was actually do the real job and save lives, to have the chance to make a difference and do the right thing. This same sentiment is echoed by John, who is equally as uncomfortable being placed into a public role that he clearly does not want to be in. He’s a soldier used to serving a silent and thankless role, we see his discomfort with publicity in his GMA interview, and we see it later in the show when strangers come for autographs. Yes, like Steve, he has accepted this is part of being Captain America, but he doesn’t want it, he just wants to be able to do his job, complete his mission, and keep everyone safe.

3. Loyalty to their loved ones

Steve will always come for the people he loves, he will always stand by them, he will fight for them and die for them. Numerous times now Steve has been willing to risk everything to protect Bucky or anyone else that he cares about, even if no one else is willing, even if the world is against him or his own life is on the line. John carries that same loyalty for the people who matter to him. When Lemar is taken by the Flag Smashers, John’s immediate concern isn’t even about the mission or his job, it’s getting Lemar back. When they were fighting on top of the trucks in Episode 2, when Lemar’s life was in danger, John puts himself at a disadvantage to take a shot at the guy holding Lemar even though it leaves himself open to attack and nearly kicked off the truck roof. And then he throws the shield to cover Lemar’s landing despite it would leave him weaponless as a regular non-powered person to face off a super soldier. Steve and John would both do anything for the people they love.

4. Self-sacrificing

We’ve seen Steve willing to throw himself on the grenade, so to speak, time and time again. He did it in his first film to send the plane into the water. He does it for Bucky in Winter Soldier. And not to mention actually jumping on grenades, even if that ended up being a test. Steve’s instinct to throw himself in danger and sacrifice for others is well documented, but John matches that self sacrificing instinct as well. He’s jumped on grenades before as an active duty soldier. He has three Medals of Honor that would only be earned through willing to sacrifice himself above and beyond the call of duty to save others. And even in the final fight in Episode 6, we see him fighting off the Flag Smashers while trying to pull that truck up even if the Flag Smashers pull him over the ledge. When push comes to shove, Steve and John’s instincts are to jump into danger to shield others with their lives, no hesitation. They both would see it as their duty. 

5. “I can do this all day”

This is Steve’s signature line. He doesn’t give up, he can keep standing up to fight for what he believes in, whether against bullies, Red Skull, Tony, the government, Thanos, and even a version of himself. Steve is resilient and his endurance goes beyond just his physical abilities. He has the heart to keep fighting, the stubborn tenacity to never give up even when all seems lost. Yet John has that same stubborn tenacity that Steve has. Those three Medals of Honor are proof of that. You’d have to be able to walk through hell to even get one medal, much less three. The mental endurance required to keep going would have been enormous. And even after Sam and Bucky broke his arm in that warehouse, John got back up and tried to keep fighting, they had to bash him into unconsciousness to even stop him. And even then he went on to forge his own shield and got back into the fight. Much like Steve, he doesn’t know when to give up. 

6. Lying (in an attempt to protect themselves and others)

Steve lied to Tony about the truth of his parents’ death. He knew and he kept silent, lying by omission, and he was going to keep lying until Tony finally confronted him for a simple clear answer. Steve even admits that he thought by not saying anything, he was sparing Tony, but he realizes that he was really sparing himself. It was a selfish choice, one born not out of malice, but perhaps a misguided attempt to keep the peace, thinking if the truth isn’t out there then maybe any conflict is unnecessary and everyone can have their peace of mind. And that same line of thinking is what drives John’s lies to Lemar’s family too. A part of him wants to spare them further pain, because what good would come from telling them that their son/brother’s killer is still out there and that he failed to stop them? He wanted to spare them, he wanted to give them closure and peace in their grief, to not burden them with an open ended story with no justice. But he was also sparing himself, because he’s afraid admitting the truth that he didn’t kill the person directly responsible might lead to Lemar’s family hating him and he’d lose them and his last connection to Lemar. This is not a decision of malice, this is a decision born from fear. Steve and John both lie in trying to spare others from pain but also selfishly spare themselves from the further conflict that the truth may cause. 

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

In a way, yes, John was designed to be a darker mirror to Steve (less solid morality, less emotional control), but that darker mirror only works when they share some core similarities. Their differences are in how those traits can manifest outward into different actions.

Perhaps shockingly, I think Steve would have understood John and his choices more than most, and may have been able to talk him off the ledges better anyone else besides Lemar, and maybe with some more understanding guidance, John might have made for a good Captain America. After all, Steve did say once say in that letter to Tony, “I know you’re doing what you believe in, and that’s all any of us can do, that’s all any of us should.”

[isabellafoster13]

This was requested on AO3 by SakuraFairy.

I love CoLu. They are a very attractive pairing and I don't think I've made it a secret that I love not only rare pairs but also opposites attract pairings. Especially if it's Bad Guy x Good Girl. There is something about it that I can't resist.

I decided to make this from Cobra's perspective because I thought that it would be more interesting, hopefully I did a good job.

Found You (Cobra x Lucy)

Cobra lay on his small, ragged bed in his small, dirty prison cell. He stared up at the ceiling, a blank expression on his face. To anybody, it would have seemed that he wasn't thinking of anything in particular, simply staring off into space, but his mind was on something, or rather, someone.

Lucy Heartfilia.

The blonde celestial wizard that he had tried to kill not too long ago. He felt bad, really bad.

When the Oracion Seis had first met the light mages that had allied themselves with each other in order to fight them, Cobra had made the mistake of looking at the blonde Fairy. He never was a believer in "love at first sight," but damn, it sure did seem like that was what happened to him.

He could hardly keep his eyes off of her, only managing to do so when one of her guildmates attacked him. He was a bit sad when he and his guildmates had to leave, as he wanted to continue to admire the blonde.

After that meeting, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. Every time he thought about her blonde hair that seemed to have been made out of sunshine, or her chocolate brown eyes that he would have loved to get lost in, or even dare to imagine what a date with her would be like, he would feel his face heat up and he would get a fluttering feeling in his gut. He was willing to bet all of his jewel that she was just as beautiful inside as she was outside.

However, Cobra, being Cobra, couldn't accept that he had fallen in love with a light mage, and one that was actively trying to defeat him at that. He did whatever he could to avoid thinking about her, even to avoid seeing her. He tried to convince himself that this was only a passing thing, that as soon as Oracion Seis succeeded he would get over these feelings.

Now, nearing the end of his sentence, Cobra knew that he was mistaken.

When he was told about the deaths of several Fairy Tail mages, Lucy included, on Tenrou Island he was sure that he would finally stop feeling this way about her, but instead, he had felt this pain in his chest upon hearing Lucy's name among the dead. He had to fight back tears. All he could bring himself to do was sit in his cell in silence, he couldn't even verbally antagonize the guards that stood right outside of his cell and ridicule them. He was too devastated.

And he hated it.

The denial didn't stop at the Nirvana incident, however. When he and many of the other members of Oracion Seis escaped prison and became the Reborn Orasion Seis, he had managed to convince himself that in order to get rid of these unwanted feelings, he had to sacrifice Lucy to the Infinity Clock and get rid of her for good. He wasn't sure why he thought this would work when her supposedly dying on Tenrou didn't work.

He now realized that maybe that was a bit extreme. After their defeat, he had expected that the officially ruined chance with her would help him get over her, but no such luck. Since he returned to prison, Cobra has been thinking about Lucy and his feelings for her. Eventually, he accepted that he had fallen for her and wanted to get to know her, albeit reluctantly.

Cobra had come to the decision that he would wait until his release, then he'd try to find her, maybe even join Fairy Tail, and attempt to befriend her before he romantically pursued her.

Yeah, that sounded like a good course of action. He just hoped that she would be able to forgive him. But, before he did anything like trying to befriend Lucy and redeem himself to her, he had to first wait for the end of his prison sentence and find out where exactly she was.

Cobra released a sigh. He had no other choice but to wait, and he would wait, no matter how much he's always hated waiting.

"Cobra! On your feet now!"

Cobra opened his eye at that voice. What does this chucklefuck want now? The dragon slayer thought as he sat up. He looked to the magic-canceling bars of his cell and watched as Lahar appeared. He glared at the prisoner that he loathed. The Captain of The Rune Knights spoke again, "I said on your feet, Cobra." He bitterly spat out the other man's name.

Cobra groaned, standing up. He watched Lahar look through some papers on a clipboard, periodically writing something down before continuing to silently flip through the pieces of paper. All the while, Cobra was glaring at him fiercely. He hated this guy. Hated him with every fiber of his being.

Lahar eventually looked at Cobra with a glare. He then spoke the words that Cobra had been waiting who knows how long to hear, "your sentence is over."

Cobra slightly lessened his glare at that. He had just started thinking that this day would never come. He was happy, incredibly so, but he wasn't going to let Lahar see that. The soon-to-be-released man then asked gruffly, "what about the other Oracion Seis members?"

Lahar nodded. "They will be released within the week."

Cobra suppressed a small smile. He thought that maybe he could convince the others to join him in Fairy Tail. It would depend on whether or not he'd be accepted into the guild, as well as how they'd treat him, but it didn't sound like a bad idea.

Lahar opened the door of the cell, walked in, and put handcuffs on Cobra. He then lead the dragon slayer out of the cell and towards a guarded door. The Captain sighed. He was preparing himself for a long day of filling out paperwork and explaining to Cobra the conditions of his release, meanwhile, Cobra was already planning how he would approach Lucy and attempt to befriend her.

After several hours, Cobra was finally free from that prison. He was told that if he was caught up in criminal activity again, he would be imprisoned for life. He was also told that he had to join a guild or stop using magic entirely. He agreed to these conditions, signed some paperwork himself, was given some jewel to get him to his desired guild, and was officially released.

Cobra reluctantly sat on the train that would take him to Magnolia. He took a deep breath as the train began to move, preparing himself for the motion sickness that has plagued him since a dragon slayer lacrima had been implanted into him.

He clutched his stomach, turning green and struggling to keep down the contents of his stomach down. He cursed his determination to see Lucy. Damn, this better pay off. Cobra began to count down the seconds until the train reached Magnolia.

Finally, after four torturous hours, Cobra practically ran off the train. Or, ran as best he could while he was still trying to regain control of his stomach. He sat down on a nearby bench and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He took slow, deep breaths, trying to calm down his nausea using a method that Angel had taught him when they were younger.

Once he felt better, he stood and reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out a folded map of Magnolia, unfolded it, and searched for Fairy Tail. He located it on the map and began to walk in the direction of the guild after he folded the map again and stuffed it back into his pocket.

Cobra began to think about what he should say to Lucy once he approached her. Should he start with an apology? Should he ask her if she would ever be interested in being his friend before he apologizes or do it after? Or should he join Fairy Tail first?

He hadn't realized that he had made it to his target guild until he was suddenly tackled to the ground. The dragon slayer cursed under his breath, having been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn't been listening to his surroundings.

Cobra tried to turn his head to see who was holding him to the ground, pinning his arms painfully behind his back. He failed in effectively looking at his assailant, so instead, he listened for any sort of noise that would tell him their identity. Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke, "why are you here? Planning to attack us again?" Cobra groaned. Natsu. It just had to be him that spotted me. Just as Cobra was about to explain to the salmon-haired mage his reason for showing up, another voice spoke up, a voice that he had been dreaming of hearing.

"Natsu, let him go! You can't just attack someone for no reason!"

Natsu tightened his grip so that the other dragon slayer couldn't free himself as he twisted around to look at his best friend. "but, Luce, it's that Oracion Seis member!"

Cobra stilled when heard Lucy's voice. He already felt a fluttering feeling in his stomach and his heartbeat quickening at the feeling of her presence. He turned his head, trying to catch at least a glimpse of her as he listened to her voice.

"It doesn't matter, Natsu! We don't know why he's here and we shouldn't assume that it's because he wants to attack us. Besides, why would he be here alone if that was his intention?"

"Luce, we don't know if he's alone"

"Do you smell any of the other Oracion Seis members? Or anybody else out here for that matter?"

"...no"

"Then let him go so he can explain himself without his face getting pressed into the dirt!"

Cobra then felt Natsu get yanked off of him. He stood and dusted himself off. He then turned to the pair of mages to see Lucy holding Natsu by the arm. She was giving Cobra a pleasant smile, though her eyes held a stern look in them, telling him that if he got aggressive or caused her to think that his reason for being here was hostile, then she would allow her fire mage friend to attack him. Natsu, on the other hand, was giving Cobra a hard glare. It was obvious that Natsu wasn't happy with the Poison Dragon Slayer's presence here.

Cobra's eyes went back to the blonde. Upon her giving him a nod, telling him to explain his reason for coming to Fairy Tail. The former criminal spoke, making sure to keep his voice calm so as to not provoke the mages by sounding aggressive, "I was just released from prison. The other former Oracion Seis members will be released by the end of the week. I was told that I had to join a guild and avoid any more illegal activity."

He looked Lucy in the eye, directing his next statement at her more than at both her and Natsu without noticing. "I actually do want to give up my life as a criminal and redeem myself. Please, give me a chance." It pained him to swallow his pride and go to some mages that he had tried to kill and practically beg like this, but he was determined to get a chance with Lucy, no matter what he had to do.

He watched as Lucy's eyes softened. Cobra swallowed thickly. He could feel warmth on his cheeks as he stared into the blonde's entrancing eyes. He silently willed himself to look away, but he was unable to.

Lucy released Natsu's arm as she walked towards Cobra. Both of the dragon slayers watched in silent shock as the celestial wizard looked Cobra in the eye before giving him a smile, a smile that he fell in love with once again. She took his hand into hers and pulled him to the guildhall doors. Natsu demanded, "wait, what are you doing?"

Lucy looked back, her hand on the handle of one of the doors. "I'm taking him to Master Makarov. Cobra is being completely honest, I can tell." She then opened the door and pulled Cobra through the guildhall, ignoring all of the curious looks and glares that Cobra had noticed.

The two stopped at an office door. Cobra looked down at Lucy, seeing her smiling up at him encouragingly. The young woman then knocked on the door. She waited for the guild master to say "come in" before she opened the door and pulled Cobra inside the office with her.

Cobra sat next to Lucy at the bar staring down at his mug of beer. He had just gotten his guild mark, red and on his right bicep. He looked over at Lucy who was sitting on his right. She was sipping on what was apparently her favorite beverage, a strawberry milkshake. Cobra thought about what he should say to her.

'I'm sorry?'

'Want to be friends?'

'Go on a date with me already?'

What should he say to her?

Cobra looked back at his beer. He cleared his throat loudly, glancing at that blonde next to him to make sure he had gotten her attention. Lucy was staring at him patiently, waiting for him to speak. The maroon-haired man said, trying to keep his voice steady, "I...I'm sorry...for everything that happened." He then heard Lucy's laugh. He turned his purple gaze to her.

The blonde smiled kindly at him. She placed her hand on his shoulder, causing him to freeze. He stared into her brown eyes, unable once again to tear his gaze away. Lucy then spoke softly, "I've forgiven you a while ago. You're a part of Fairy Tail now, you can live your life how you want to."

Cobra smiled, looking back down at his alcoholic drink. With a small chuckle, he said without thinking, "I'd love to live my life with you as my girlfriend." He then froze immediately, realizing what he had said. He hesitantly looked at Lucy, waiting for her to reject him.

However, Lucy simply smiled. "I'd like to go on a date with you, Cobra. Name a time and place."

Cobra returned her smile with one of his own. He responded, "Tomorrow at seven pm, That cafe next to the library I saw when I was walking here."

Lucy nodded. She stood up, saying that she had to head home and do some writing. She then added, "I'll see you tomorrow for our date. Goodnight, Cobra."

As she walked past him, Cobra grabbed her hand, surprising her as well as himself. She turned to him. The man blushed as he stated softly, "call me Erik. That's my real name."

Lucy nodded. "Goodnight, Erik." She gave his hand a squeeze before walking away and out of the guild.

Cobra continued to sit at the bar. He was unbelievably happy that Lucy agreed to go on a date with him. Sure, things didn't play out how he had expected, but he was going on a date with Lucy, that was what had been aiming for and he achieved that goal.

He downed his beer before he walked out of the guild to find a hotel to stay at. Tomorrow he would look for an apartment before his date.

[theonlygamergost]

As long as I’m with you - Dream SMP

This fanfic came up in my head a while ago, finished it recently and I’m pretty happy with it, the inspiration is how much I love the Techno/ Tommy brothers/friends dynamic.

This fan fiction was corrected by the lovely @im-default

~~~~~~~~~~

Techno has never been good with human interactions, so when pushing Tommy’s buttons too far, he decides that seeing the boy like that was never gonna happen again under his supervision... but is he willing to broke the alliance with Dream to save Tommy?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Warning! Angst, past trauma, a bit of fluff 

Enjoy~

Waking up in the hole that was his room underneath Techno’s house was… Rough, it was always cold, and getting out of the blankets wasn’t the most pleasant experience, that's why Techno usually shouted from upstairs to wake up when the warmth of the fire had taken over the cold of the night.

But Techno was always wide awake when Tommy entered the comfortable home above his room, so, out of curiosity, he decided to fight the freezing cold of the morning and get out of bed earlier than usual, hoping to see what Techno was up to before he was awake.

Carefully climbing up, he peeked out the top of the stairs to see the candles and the fireplace were already lit, the dancing shadows on the walls upstairs made Tommy realize how cold it truly was, so after following the trail of warmth, he found no one home.

“B-big T?” he called out, finally getting to the top floor of the house, “Techno?” no one answered, the blonde boy looked around to find the man’s bed already done, like it was never slept in.

As he looked around, his eyes got distracted by the view outside the window: there was a blizzard raging on.

But if there was so much snow coming down, why wasn’t he here? Did Techno go out in the cold?

Getting closer to the glass, he couldn’t help but think about how pretty the snow was, everything was white… soft… cold and… a human?

A figure covered in blue was walking towards the house, the strong wind would reveal hints of red underneath the coat. Not to fret, it wasn’t blood, Techno never went outside without his red iconic cape, it was big, fluffy, and super warm, perfect for cold climates.

Tommy had the privilege of sleeping inside of it once and he had never slept better since.

Though, why was the man walking in a blizzard? And why was he so slow?

A surge of panic rose in the back of his mind when the figure started approaching the door, he wasn't supposed to be there- he was supposed to hide, he was supposed to-

“Good morning Theseus” the freezing air made the fire sway, serving as a dramatic entrance for the half-man half-pig. Closing the door with a bit of force, he snapped Tommy out of his trance: Wrong person, he wasn't supposed to hide from him, was he?

The smiling mask and the green hoodie of his warden still haunted his thoughts, as much as the big man he shared the house with ease the sensation of fear and depression he had felt, that creepy still smile was always watching from the corner of his vision. Yes, it was an illusion… and yet…

“I wasn't expecting you to be up so early “ Techno’s deep voice snapped him out again, bringing him back to the warmth of the fireplace, “Want to have breakfast since we’re both up? I don't mind eating earlier” taking off that huge and wet cape, he minded the blonde no attention, directly passing onto preparing a meal for two.

These moments of the two of them alone reminded him of how much Techno trusted him. When with others he was always on high alert with a sword at hand, ready to strike. But now? He had his back turned, focused on something else, his shoulders were also visibly more relaxed… He acted the same around Phil… And…

Wilbur…

“So are you gonna help me make breakfast? These eggs don't cook themselves y’know” Techno briefly looked over his shoulder to see the blondie froze in place, he wasn't good with people and emotions but it didn't take a degree to see that his thoughts weren't the most pleasant, the boy looked like he saw a ghost.

Tommy shook his thoughts away and started looking for the pan, grabbing milk, cookies, and some bread to toast.

The two had very different breakfast habits, Techno prepared toasts with eggs, no bacon tho, he wasn’t a cannibal, while Tommy ate anything sweet: cookies, cakes, anything goes.

One thing they both agreed on was milk, only because Techno couldn’t cultivate coffee beans himself due to the freezing temperatures.

“Thanks, big T” Techno nodded his head when handing Tommy his warm cup of milk, the sizzling of eggs getting cooked made the walls feel warm, comfortable even.

Taking a sip of the warm liquid, legs close to his chest and arms hugging them, he recalled how the day prior Techno had taught him to milk the cows he was breeding, with the number of inappropriate jokes he had made, Tommy was shocked Techno didn’t kick him out. People underestimated the man’s patience and kindness, of course it was for few to see the sight, and Tommy was grateful he was the lucky one in a million.

They ate in silence, Tommy didn’t go down a rant and talk for the whole breakfast, this time, the boy was happy with the silence, even if his mind was as loud as ever.

Techno took a bite and placed the plate aside, opening the front door to grab some firewood, explaining why he was walking so slow in the storm. Throwing it in the fireplace made sparkles and dust fly around for a few seconds, the man sat down and took another bite, “Why do you still trust Tubbo?” the out of nowhere question made him almost choke on his milk, “He has exiled you and clearly doesn’t care about your feelings nor well-being…” he munched on some more food, covering his mouth before speaking, “Why do you still want to see him?”  

The blonde boy stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace, why wouldn’t he trust Tubbo? “Tubbo is… e-everything I have left...” Techno looked over him confused, “After Dream got my discs, losing the election and Will lost his mind… he is all I have left” dipping for a bit too long a cookie in the warm milk, he slowly munched, thinking back at when he, Wilbur and Tubbo lived in those high black stone walls, before Eret and Fundy, before the war…

“Are you sure you’re not lying to yourself?” It was Tommy’s turn to be confused, “I’m just saying, Phil, Fundy, Quakity, Ranboo, Niki, they were all there for you too…” Techno counted the people on his fingers, making Tommy’s eyes widen a bit, “But they all did turn their back to you” he pointed out, making a tightness appear in the boy’s chest,  “… So are you sure you aren’t holding on to a lie? It doesn’t look like Tubbo cares that much about you-” “HE CARES ABOUT ME!!!” Techno raised a brow at the tone, “Are you sure he truly does?-” Tommy covered his ears, his body crumbling into a ball.

“SHUT UP DREAM YOU DON’T KNOW ME OR TUBBO!!!”

The room stood still, even the fire looked like it stopped moving, Techno shifted in his seat, eyes looking down in front of him. He didn’t mean to push that deep, he didn’t know this was a scar still open … but what preoccupied him the most was:

…

What in the hell did Dream do to this poor kid?

Even if Techno was silent, Tommy heard a million voices shouting nonsense right into his head. Squinting as hard as he could, he started feeling cold, the same humid cold he felt in his tent when he was alone waiting for him to get his items, his creepy smile… his harsh voice… his-

“Theseus...”

He snapped his head up at the man kneeling in front of him, Techno figured that by calling him Tommy it would have only made it worse, so using the nickname only he used seemed a better option…

And it was.

The shadows on the edge of his vision started to disappear, the braided pink hair and the preoccupied gaze made him realize, it was simply Techno… Wait- Techno? Didn’t he just say Drea-

Oh...

The tightness in his chest lightened meanwhile the knot in his throat thickened.

“I- I… I…” Techno’s reassuring smile beamed with light and kindness he had never seen before, “It’s alright Tommy, I’m here” he extended his hand toward the trembling teen, who instead of taking it, threw himself at him, hugging the man tightly.

“I’m sorry Techno!” Tommy buried his face into the soft fabric of Techno’s shirt, staining it with tears.

Techno wasn’t good at this comforting people thing, nor used to physical touch, hell it took his whole being to not jump at the hug. He was still kinda stiff, hesitant of what to do, but for Tommy, even if he was an annoying gremlin, Techno was willing to push all of this aside.

He hugged the blonde boy, caressing soothing circles on his back, “Shhh... It’s ok Tommy, I’m here” he looked up at the ceiling, thinking of how Dream had come searching for him...

~~~~~

“Do you know who killed Theseus, Techno?” he looked at the man, keeping a high guard, “I don’t remember the whole story… but he was killed by the king of the island he was taking refuge in after getting exiled”  Dream’s masks tilted to his crown, and then his red cape.

“Either way” he swung his axe on his shoulder, shrugging at the other man, “I’ll come to collect the favour soon, farewell”

As Techno looked over the green figure walking away, something in the back of his mind started to sound an alarm, this wasn’t going to end well

~~~~~

Tommy’s sobs became quieter, the grip on his white shirt loosened, but the hug was far from over.

“As long as I’m here, Dream won’t hurt you…”

If the admin of the server ever came back to use the favour, it probably will be for Tommy, Techno’s guts were right most of the time, but oh boy did he wish they were wrong right now. He wasn’t sure he was willing to sacrifice the already delicate alliance with Dream for Tommy, he couldn’t decide what to give up, not now, not never.

“... I won’t let him…“

Techno wanted to promise him, but he prefered to stay silent instead of giving half-hope, instead of lying and backstabbing…

...Just like many did to him…

… Just like Tubbo did to Tommy...

[hd-wireless]

🎶 H/D WIRELESS FEST - REVEALS 🎶

At last, the day you’ve been waiting for! It’s the REVEALS! 

Come check out the talented people who created your favourite Wireless fics and artworks!

Massive thanks once again to all the 54 creators of our 64 works (yes some people created multiple works! Special mention to cloudlesslysky who wrote FIVE fics!). And thanks also to all the readers, betas and supporters of H/D Wireless! It’s been a bumper year!

Without further ado...

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 Stuck on the Bridge Between Us (G)  by pygmy_puffy @pygmy-puffy

🎵 Song prompt: Talk Me Down by Troye Sivan

🎵 Summary: finding the courage within themselves to be vulnerable, so they can stop hurting the other and start loving each other as they so deeply want and need to

📻  So Let's Dance, Take a Chance, Understand Me (T) by Dazed_and_Inked @dazedandinked

🎵 Song prompt: T.Rex, Get It On

🎵 Summary: The War is over and everything has changed.

After a few of years of travelling around the world, Harry decided to move to Muggle London, looking for peace and a place where the scar on his forehead doesn’t have a meaning. His new flat is in a perfectly normal neighbourhood close to the centre, quiet during the day but full of students at night.

He really likes the small bar down the road, a place that serves cheap, awful drinks and plays good old classics. It’s always crammed with people talking, laughing or dancing along with the riff of electric guitars.

From the first time he crossed the threshold, Harry thought it was perfect, the right mix of noise and warmth to be alone without feeling alone. Just what he needed.

He couldn’t imagine that someone else was there for the very same reason, looking for a place where the Dark Mark was only a tattoo.

Blame it on the alcohol, on the music or whatever you want, but when Harry’s eyes landed on Draco’s slim figure, swaying on the dancefloor, something warm and inexplicable possessed him. 

📻  The Pass (T) by julchen_in_red @julcheninred

🎵 Song prompt: The Pass, by Rush

🎵 Summary: Draco, lost in darkness, seeks a guiding light.

📻  If you knew… (T) by gnarf @gnarf

🎵 Song prompt: Young Folks from Peter Bjorn and John

🎵 Summary: The war had left scars on all of them.  Some were obvious. Some only if they looked closely. But the worst ones were those they couldn't see. Those that were hidden inside.

📻  an ode to the boy i love (G) by nettleforest @nettleforest

🎵 Song prompt: Animal - Troye Sivan

🎵 Summary: an evocation of vulnerability, trust and tenderness

📻  Home Sweet Home (G) by gnarf @gnarf

🎵Song prompt: Radioactive - Imagine Dragons

🎵 Summary: In the middle of a Zombie apocalypse Harry made it his main goal to find a safe home for Draco and himself.

📻  Turn back time (T)  bt erlasart @erlasart

🎵 Song prompt: If I Could Turn Back Time - Cher

🎵 Summary: Draco's had a rough few years, if that's what you call falling in with a bad lot, attempted murder and a close brush with death. Now facing the weight of his misdeeds, Draco tries to pinpoint when it all went wrong.

📻  Time to Get Out (T)  by SoldSeperately @secretartlair

🎵 Song prompt: My House - PVRIS

🎵 Summary: A few years post-war, Pansy convinces Draco to go on a night out at a muggle club. They run into some familiar faces.

🎶 H/D Wireless Art and Fic 🎶

📻  A Different Kind of Meaning (E, 17k) by p103 @p103 (art by Zigster)

🎵 Song prompt: Outnumbered - Dermot Kennedy

🎵 Summary: The ceiling doesn't hold any answers, but there are cobwebs scattered across the corners with shadows tangled in their threads. The rug against his back is rough and scratchy, threadbare and devoid of colours other than various shades of brown. Harry takes it all in, absorbs the dingy and depressed state of his home. There's a pointed moment of decision, a note about to be played, a silence about to end, and then he rolls to his feet and sets to cleaning.

It's the first constructive thing he's done in years. 

📻  Keep Holding On (M, 33k) by gnarf @gnarf (fic) and MaesterChill @maesterchill (art)

🎵 Song prompt: Welshly Arms - Sanctuary

🎵 Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Draco both fall into their own battles with their mental states. Draco is sent to Azkaban, and Harry turns to drinking, hoping to forget.

Months later, Harry visits St Mungo’s new ward on request of a friend, only to find Draco in a deep vegetative state.

Not willing to give him up, Harry stays by his side, while simultaneously dealing with the Ministry's newest grand idea to make everything worse.

Making new alleys, and losing old ones on the way, would hopefully be worth it in the end.

📻 Fic : Modern Love (E, 61k) by tackytiger @tackytigerfic

📻 Art : Our Love Song (G) by chachisoo @creeeee

🎵 Song prompt: Modern Love by David Bowie

🎵 Fic summary: Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

And it really doesn’t seem fair that Draco Malfoy is back in Harry’s life, all of a sudden, and even though he’s wandless, and living with Muggles, and making his mother cry with his lifestyle choices, he’s happy. So what's he doing right, that Harry isn’t?

Because things don’t really change, do they? And if Harry can’t be happy, he’ll settle for a good night’s sleep, some posh antiques, and the opportunity to find out what Malfoy has been up to for all these years.

And that’s what starts it all.  

🎵 Art summary: Harry and Draco enjoying a Sunday morning bus ride in London.

📻  For the Thousandth Time (T, 14k) by bluefay @thesleepiesthufflepuff (fic) and mehroomiyat (art)

🎵 Song Prompt: Lucky by Aurora

🎵 Summary: When Draco's wand refuses to work after the war, he turns to Harry for help. 

📻 Fic : Returning Tides (E, 24.5k) by Zigster @zigster-ao3

📻 Art : Love Will Tear Us Apart (G) by Zigster @zigster-ao3

🎵 Song prompt: Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division 

🎵 Fic summary: 

Is my timing that flawed? Our respect run so dry? Yet there's still this appeal That we've kept through our lives

🎵 Art summary: Art piece to accompany the fic ‘Returning Tides’, based on the song claim, 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' by Joy Division ***** Harry's brooding while straddling a motorbike. Need I say more?

📻  That Sweet Sweet Craving (E, 33.2k) by TheUltimateUndesirable @ultimateundesirable

🎵 Song prompt: Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons 

🎵 Summary: Harry is miserable living a lie because he thinks being a gay role model is wrong. Fake dates raising money for a charity that ends up putting him in a situation he had never expected. Draco Malfoy appears back in his life by some odd chance trying to flip his world upside down and he isn't sure it's a good thing. Malfoy always worked that way to him. Mental health issues, sex, escaping, and that sweet sweet craving of happiness.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻  Follow the Water (T, 38.2k) by xanthippe74 @xanthippe74

🎵 Song prompt: “Follow the Water” by Calexico/Iron & Wine

🎵 Summary: Harry Potter’s life is fine. Maybe a little dull and predictable, but he shouldn’t complain about that, right? When he unexpectedly finds himself at Luna’s house one afternoon, Harry gets invited to join the secret wonderland that she’s creating with a surprising group of friends. Maybe a summer outdoors is just what a former hero needs to bring some zest back into his life.

📻  Life goes not backward (T, 8.8k) by shealwaysreads @shealwaysreads 

🎵 Song prompt: Daughter by Loudon Wainwright

🎵 Summary: Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different.

A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

Leaving one life behind isn’t always a sacrifice, and sometimes the greatest good comes from embracing the people you love. 

📻  The Way We Used To Love (E, 5.3k) by Zzzara @big-draco-energy

🎵 Song prompt: 'Used to Love' by Martin Garrix & Dean Lewis

🎵 Summary: Is there hope when what is not enough for the one happens to be too much for the other? 

📻  but if you close your eyes (T, 3.3k) by cloudlesslysky @cloudlesslysky 

🎵 Song prompt: Pompeii by Bastille

🎵 Summary: The New Magic Order is trying to take over Wizarding Britain. They're not the Death Eaters, but they're not any better either.

The lines of alliance have shifted, but Harry is still on the front lines working tirelessly to stop them.

📻  Haunt the corner of my eye (T, 23k) by harryromper @harryromper

🎵 Song prompt: Echoes of You - Marianas Trench

🎵 Summary: Harry’s life is very much on track. After a successful career as an Auror, he’s set to become the youngest ever Minister for Magic. But strange things are starting to happen at Grimmauld Place. Items he doesn’t recognise are appearing left and right, and somehow he never feels quite alone. There’s only one thing Harry knows for sure: it has something to do with Draco Malfoy.

📻  Now that the spring is in the air (T, 5.7k) by cloudlesslysky @cloudlesslysky 

🎵 Song prompt: Seasons in the Sun by Westlife

🎵 Summary: A surprise attack in Diagon Alley leaves Draco struggling to make peace with the fact that he won't live long enough to experience his own wedding.

📻  Seven Days to Monday (M, 11.7k) by static_abyss @static_abyss

🎵 Song prompt: Say Something - A Great Big World

🎵 Summary: There are seven days before Harry has to meet Draco for the final signing of their divorce papers. It's been months and the surprise at finding nothing but more cold sheets and an empty pillow next to him still catches Harry unaware. He doesn't know where they go from here. Whether it's possible to go anywhere after everything that's happened between them.

📻  Blond Brew (E, 30.4k) by MicheleBlack @micheleblack

🎵 Song prompt: “Blondes” by Waterparks

🎵 Summary: A blond roast with soy milk makes Draco's morning, but a pair of green eyes makes his week.

📻  A Series of Nonsensical Events (T, 12.8k) by CoffeeCurse @coffee-curse

🎵 Song prompt: My Gospel by Charlie Puth

🎵 Summary: Malfoy is up to something. When Harry and the other Aurors are called into a Gringotts break-in and find him the culprit, Harry’s at a total loss.

But things only get weirder from then on.

📻  Ignore the Truth (E, 2.6k) by static_abyss @static_abyss

🎵 Song prompt: Dangerously - Charlie Puth

🎵 Summary: "Longtime on-again-off-again lovers Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were caught in a compromising position in one the Ministry's lifts yesterday evening. While fans of the couple are optimistic, there's still doubt as to whether or not this particular reconciliation will last. When asked directly about the nature of his relationship with Draco Malfoy, the Boy Who Lived had simply this to say, 'Fuck right off, we're busy.'"

- The Daily Prophet, "Love Is In The Air," 28th Oct. 2005.   

📻  Your Daddy Knows (You're A Flame) (E, 27.8k) by Ladderofyears @ladderofyears

🎵 Song prompt: Babyfather by Sade (2010)

🎵 Summary: It's just over a week until Draco's twenty-fifth birthday party and Harry Potter is a busy wizard. Amongst all the excitements of fatherhood, work and friends, Harry realises something special about his husband Draco. He is pregnant with their second, much wanted baby.

There's only one problem: Draco is entirely oblivious to the fact and seems determined to remain so. 

📻  Don't search me in here (E, 6.7k) by Sassy3 @sassy-sassy3

🎵 Song prompt: Gone - Charlie XCX & Christine and the Queens

🎵 Summary: Draco spotted him in a corner, crowded by Ministry employees. He looked like an animal, trapped in a cage. He had a strained smile on his , and his eyes were looking everywhere else than on the people in front of him.

Draco can’t quite help himself, watching Potter from afar. Just out of curiosity, of course. He’s happy with his life, nothing is missing, and if he’s lonely it’s entirely by choice. 

📻  I Can Be Your Lighthouse (T, 4k) by orpheus87 

🎵 Song prompt: The Lighthouse by The Used

🎵 Summary: When Harry gets called to investigate reports of Dark magic, the last thing he expects to find is an almost unconscious Draco Malfoy. After multiple instances, he resolves to find out what's going on.

📻  Drop Everything Now (T, 21k) by parkkate @parkkate

🎵 Song prompt: Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift

🎵 Summary: After accidentally bonding himself to Malfoy, Harry finds himself in an utterly precarious situation… 

📻  No one fucks with us (T, 3.3k) by Laura_Sinele @laurasinele

🎵 Song prompt: NFWMB by Hozier

🎵 Summary: Draco Malfoy wonders for how long has Harry Potter been a terrifying force of nature. Harry Potter thinks Draco Malfoy has been a badass MF all along. If the world has to end so they can have some peace and quiet, be it. They'll set it on fire.

📻  Will You Stay with Me? (M, 10.2k) by EvAEleanor @eva-eleanore

🎵 Song prompt: ‘Run’ - Daughter

🎵 Summary: Ten months ago, Draco had found none other than Harry Potter blindly drunk and bleeding outside a Muggle pub. He'd brought him home and hasn't left his side ever since. He looked after him, took care of him when yet another nightmare plagued him. 

Harry is sure that Draco will leave him at some point, and he can’t let it happen. He can’t have another person leaving his life unexpectedly. So, Harry forces him to leave — after they spend one last night together.

📻  until the sun has changed the colour of my hair (T, 4.9k) by cloudlesslysky @cloudlesslysky 

🎵 Song prompt: Jag saknar dig mindre och mindre - Melissa Horn

🎵 Summary:  Draco's life has been one big mess ever since Potter broke up with him. He doesn't want to see his friends, he's too ashamed to see his parents, and his apartment is one giant mess. He's constantly prepared for disaster, and spends his time either alone in Muggle parks or in his apartment. But one day... One beautiful day... He will forget Harry, surely.

📻  Love Found (E, 7.5k) by peachpety @peachpety

🎵 Song Prompt: I Found, by Amber Run

🎵 Summary: During Harry’s sixth year, Draco Malfoy joins the Order as a double-agent and continues with his task to get the Death Eaters into the castle as assigned by Voldemort. Draco succeeds with his mission the evening Harry returns from the caves with Dumbledore. The boys reunite on the Astronomy Tower and, with the Death Eater’s arrival, are forced to engage in a fight, driving Harry to come to terms with his feelings about true friendship and romantic love.

📻  On the Third Day He Took Me to the River (M, 14.4k) by pixiedustatsundown @pixiedustatsundown 

🎵 Song prompt: 'Where the Wild Roses Grow - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds ft. Kylie Minogue'

🎵 Summary: This is a story of two lonely young men falling in love.

This is a story about dreams and duty, about witches that give purpose to the one and doom the other.

You think you know how the story goes, but this is a different story, and it doesn't end well. 

📻  (When They Only Hear You Whisper) I'll Be Loud For You (T, 2.8k) by VeelaWings @veelawings

🎵 Song prompt: There for You - Martin Garrix/Troye Sivan

🎵 Summary: Potter must have been having nightmares again. He was restless in his bed across the room. Moonlight shone through his open bed curtains and highlighted the contours of his body, the grimace on his face blatant. His thick blanket was kicked down, one leg still covered by his twisted sheet, the musk of his sweat pungent in their small dorm. Low grunts accounted for the majority of the noise he made, but it was peppered by the occasional groan or unclear shout of words. However, ‘No,’ was always clear.

Draco hated it. 

📻  The Interview (T, 17.3k) by Cibee (Cibeeeee) @cibeewastaken

🎵 Song prompt: Just Say Yes - Snow Patrol

🎵 Summary: One interview had Draco realizing how naïve he was for thinking he deserved Harry. 

📻  Lookalike (M, 1.4k) by Zzzara @big-draco-energy

🎵 Song prompt: 'Lookalike' by Conan Gray 

🎵 Summary: When you look in his eyes, Do you think of mine? And when you look at that smile, Do I cross your mind? I know in your head You see me instead 'Cause he looks a lot like I did back then Baby, don't lie, He's just a lookalike... ©

📻  As Fascinating As a Slap Bracelet (T, 13.2k) by acupforslytherin @acupforslytherin 

🎵 Song prompt: Have It All - Jason Mraz

🎵 Summary: Who would have thought that a wacky little Muggle toy would lead to an unlikely friendship between Harry and Draco? Not Harry, certainly.

Who would have thought that this friendship would bloom into something more? Well, Ron, for one. 

📻  If Sex Is the Drug, Then What Is the Cost (E, 3.8k) by EvAEleanor @eva-eleanore

🎵 Song prompt: I Almost Told You That I Loved You - Papa Roach

🎵 Summary: For quite some time, Harry has been seeing Malfoy. Well... Actually, he's hired Malfoy, to keep him company, in his bedroom. It's only sex — honestly — and since Malfoy is the best, he's the only person Harry wants. That's all it is, right? 

📻  I Grow Fonder Every Day (M, 21.6k) by Drarrelie @drarrelie

🎵 Song prompt: One and Only by Adele

🎵 Summary: Draco still doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, sharing a flat in Muggle London with Harry Potter.

It’s all Draco’s ever wanted — more than he’d ever wished for. And if it entails suppressing his inconvenient feelings for the man, so what? He’s perfectly happy with his life as it is, perfectly content with just having Potter close and enjoying his company.

That is, until one Friday evening at the beginning of April when the end starts. 

📻  How Can I Live Without you? (G, 2.2k) by ununquadius @ununquadius 

🎵 Song prompt: "So Far Away", by Avenged Sevenfold

🎵 Summary: After Draco's death, Harry wonders how can he live without the one he loves when he's so far away.

📻  Following the Arrow to Your Heart (E, 10.9k) by goddessofthehearth 

🎵 Song prompt: Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran

🎵 Summary: After the war, Draco is recruited into the Department of Love (aka Cupid's Arrow). His job is to bring together witches and wizards whose magical signatures are only compatible with each others' (essentially soulmates). As they all learned during training, Cupids are chosen because they do not have soulmates.

Six years later, Draco's convinced himself that he's perfectly fine with not having a soulmate. But his latest client turns out to be Harry Potter, and he's forced to reconsider in light of his old feelings.

📻  cos I only need your name to call the reasons why I fought (T, 6.6k) by cloudlesslysky @cloudlesslysky

🎵 Song prompt: War, by Poets of the Fall

🎵 Summary: Ron and Hermione leave the Horcrux hunt, leaving a hurt Harry behind.

But at least Draco is still there with him.

📻  Madness (M, 10k) by tigersilver 

🎵 Song prompt: House of Fun by Madness

🎵 Summary: A desperate search for contraception all around Diagon Alley.

📻  Between Myth and Man (E, 16.2k) by slytherco @slytherco 

🎵 Song prompt: Why'd you only call me when you're high? - Arctic Monkeys

🎵 Summary: Draco, lost and a little broken, navigates post-war reality convinced that people like him should not be allowed to make their own choices. To solve the problem of his self-sabotaging tendencies, he starts taking a few drops of Veritaserum every morning.

A story about the complexity of choices, repressed desires that come to the surface when we least expect them, and the utter hopelessness of truths built on a foundation of lies.

📻  stay awhile (stay here with me) (T, 3.1k) by panicparade @panicissharp​

🎵 Song prompt: I like me better - Lauv

🎵 Summary: "Then when?" Harry tries again. He's not sure if he really wants to see the photo or if he just wants to keep talking to Malfoy. This Malfoy, who is so different from what he was expecting. In his Muggle jeans and smartly pressed sweater, with an air of vulnerability around him that Harry isn't used to seeing, Malfoy looks approachable in a way he never has before.

Harry stops his fidgeting as Malfoy looks up to meet his eyes. Through the hum of the crowded pub, he has to strain a little to hear him. "Maybe," Malfoy starts, hesitating a little but never breaking eye contact, "one day?"

📻  All it needs is messing it up and stars (G, 5.9k) by a_reader_and_writer @harrypotterfanfictionwriter

🎵 Song prompt: Tongue Tied by Faber Drive

🎵 Summary: After the war all the Malfoy's came off with light sentences. Now during 8th year Draco is finally free to be himself and date his crush; Harry Potter. Or at least so he thought..

A letter from his father rips that happiness away.

But maybe in the end it will take just a bit of messing up and some stars to get that happiness back.

📻  I'm gonna let it happen (E, 12.3k) by tomoewantsdolls @tomoewantsdolls 

🎵 Song prompt: Florence + The Machine - Shake it out

🎵 Summary: And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat 'Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me Looking for heaven, for the devil in me Well what the hell I'm gonna let it happen to me

📻  I feel it in my bones (M, 6.3k) by cloudlesslysky @cloudlesslysky

🎵 Song prompt: Radioactive - Imagine Dragons

🎵 Summary: Harry’s heartbeat is loud in his ears as his heart pounds in his chest. His lungs burn as he pants for air. His legs are screaming in protests as he continues to push them to their limit, forcing himself to run ever faster.

📻  Born in the U.S.A. (M, 9k) by KittyCargo @kittycargo

🎵 Song prompt: I'm on Fire by Bruce Springsteen

🎵 Summary: “You need to come home, Draco.”

“What? Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just have an opportunity for you, and you need to come home to take it.”

When Draco's mother insists he comes home, he drags his feet and convinces his friends to take a road trip.

📻  just tell me when it's alright (E, 23k) by M0stlyVoid @bonesliketambourines

🎵 Song prompt: Teeth, Lady Gaga

🎵 Summary: Harry’s been fighting tooth and nail for any bit of normalcy he can get his hands on. He’s sick of feeling like something’s wrong with him, tired of feeling different. He thinks he’s finally gotten to the root of it, and has settled into a routine that makes him happy. Naturally, that’s when Draco Malfoy walks back into his life and upends it once again. Has Harry bitten off more than he can chew with his former rival?

📻  The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth (T, 19.4k) by Cibee (Cibeeeee) @cibeewastaken

🎵 Song prompt: Cupid - Amy Winehouse 

🎵 Summary: Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship.

(An unnamed ginger bastard can be heard yelling from afar: “This is actually a detailed guide on how not to court someone!”)

But who cares about the opinions of redheads? Literally no one.

📻  What Will We Do With a Drunken Harry? (E, 4.9k) by Thunder_of_Dragons @thunder-of-dragons

🎵 Song prompt: "Drunken Sailor" by The Irish Rovers

🎵 Summary: A victorious Quidditch match, a claimed Quidditch Cup, and a wild House party can mean only one thing. Will the aftermath lead to one excruciating hangover in the morning, or will it perhaps lead to something more?

📻  Though Your World Is Changing, I Will Be The Same (E, 15.9k) by hephaestiions 

🎵 Song prompt: Slave To Love by Bryan Ferry 

🎵 Summary: “I shower after work,” Harry had told him once when Draco had asked what cologne had such longevity as to be effective after a full day of gruelling Auror work. 

“For me?” Draco had asked. Teased, just a little. There had been a smile lingering on the edges of his consciousness, threatening to traipse onto his mouth. 

“For Ginny,” Harry had said, voice flat. “She hates it when I come back sweaty and crackling with other people’s hexes. Did you know magic has a smell? I didn’t until she told me.”

–

It's all fun and games, till somebody falls in love. Given his luck, it's obviously Draco who has to go and do it.

📻  I Can't Help Falling in Love with You (NR, 4.8k) by readdreamwrite26 @readdreamwrite26

🎵 Song prompt: I can't help falling in love with you - Elvis Presley

🎵 Summary: Harry stood up and set his hand out to Draco. “Dance?” “I didn’t know you danced, Potter.” “Hm, I’ve danced a lot in my time," Harry replied smugly. “How do I know you won’t step on my feet?” “You don’t, but I think the risk will be worth it.”

📻  Searching For a Place to Hide (T, 12.5k) by Erin_Riwen @erin-riwen

🎵 Song prompt: Love Will Keep Us Alive - The Eagles

🎵 Summary: After the war, there were threats against the Malfoys. Needing them kept safe until the trials are over, the Ministry puts them in protective custody but a murder attempt proves there’s a Ministry leak. Desperate, the Ministry decides a safe house is best, but who to trust to keep it secret and keep them safe? Narcissa calls in a life debt, the Minster calls in a favour and Harry Potter wonders why his life continues to hate him. 

Along the way, the Malfoys learn how to be a family again, Harry learns that some things are not how he thought and maybe never were, and the touch-starved boys discover that they may be each other's forever answer.

📻  Isolated Thunderstorms and Scattered Showers (T, 21.3k) by triggerlil @triggerlil 

🎵 Song prompt: Iris - the GooGoo Dolls

🎵 Summary: Post-war, Harry needs space. Everything is too much all at once, and time and time again, he finds himself pulling the invisibility cloak over his head, just for a bit of peace.

Returning for eighth year is hard, especially when you're considered a war hero, and your name is Harry James Potter. It's just that things go a little wonky when Harry starts following Malfoy, and finds that he can't (or doesn't want to) stop.

📻  Kiss It Better (E, 1.5k) by articcat621 @articcat621

🎵 Song prompt: Kiss It Better by Rihanna

🎵 Summary: When Harry's injured, Draco knows there's no place he'd rather be than by his side.

📻  (shut up and) dance with me (T, 7.9k) by punk_rock_yuppie @punk-rock-yuppie

🎵 Song prompt: Shut Up and Dance - Walk the Moon

🎵 Summary: Four dances Harry and Draco share.

📻  In Love with the Ferret (E, 21.9k) by Pineau_noir @pineau-noir 

🎵 Song prompt: I'm Yours by Jason Mraz

🎵 Summary: Harry has never been the most observant bloke. Sometimes to the point of him not realising his feelings for a particular pointy, pale git. And it's not his fault if literally everyone else knows about said feelings except for Harry and the git in question. So it's really not his fault, when faced with the scope of his feelings, he suddenly has a hard time talking to one Draco Malfoy. Or looking him in the eye. Or not being a total weirdo around him.

There's nothing to do but take the advice of his friends and try to woo Draco over dinners with friends, Ministry cases, and an unfortunately named Italian restaurant.

Harry just can't stop the flutter in his chest when he sees Draco smile.

📻  Dance with me? (M, 8.2k) by Aylaar @accioxanxiety

🎵 Song prompt: I Wanna Dance With Somebody - Whitney Houston

🎵 Summary: Draco had given up on love, until one day sitting outside the usual gaudy cafe he frequented 'people watching' he spotted Harry Potter lurking, a suspicious Draco investigates and a series of events ensue.

📻  The Cupid Incident (E, 12.6k) by meandminniemcg @meandminniemcg 

🎵 Song prompt: Can' Get You out of My Head - Kylie Minogue

🎵 Summary: Draco gets into the way of a potions attack and can't get Potter out of his head.

📻  Carouse (E, 19.9k) by Drarryismymuse (Hatchersn) @drarryismymuse 

🎵 Song prompt: Dead by Madison Beer

🎵 Summary: Carouse (verb): To drink plentiful amounts of alcohol and enjoy oneself with others in a noisy, lively way.

Harry finds himself using alcohol in increasingly dangerous ways to cope with the stresses of life. When he is put on leave from work to sort out his issue, he instead falls head first into a lively club scene where he can drink and fuck his worries away. That is, until a certain blond from his past reappears and throws off his entire routine.

Massive well done to all these talented creators - you’ve made this fest utterly spectacular! Take a bow!!

🎙️ Don’t forget to check out the Playlists:

Youtube

Spotify (Provided by @eva-eleanore​ Thank  ypu so much!)

[anakin-danvers]

to wish upon a star

Rex x gender neutral!reader

Request: “For a fic, from prompt list #2, "Look! A shooting star! Make a wish," with any character you want to write from the Star Wars prequel trilogy? (Not entirely sure who you write for, do I'll leave it up to you.)” as requested by @valkyriesandbrokenhalos​

Description: While on a mission in your home world, you take the time to enjoy the night sky. To your surprise, a certain Clone Captain decides to join you. 

Word count: ~2.2 k

Warnings: Fluff. This is pure and utter all fluff. Some drinking! Tinyyyyy bit of angst if you squint to see it. Also, first time writing for our boy Rex so please be kind!

A/N: I decided to do Rex for this fic after a suggestion from @acnini​ (also special shoutout to her for beta reading 💖)! I hope you all like it, especially you Aro! Thank you for participating in my celebration! 🥳💗 

P.S. I have another Rex request I am working on which will most likely be a part 2 for this!!

tags: @acnini​ , @catsnkooks​ , @kaminobiwan​

—

Sitting in a dinner hall in a table full of tipsy clones was not what you imagined you’d be doing when General Skywalker told you to pack your bag for the mission this morning. But here you are, in your home planet, eating delicacies you’d only dreamt of as a child. 

Music bounces off the walls, not loud enough to hurt your ears, but definitely loud enough to make it hard to think. You look around, feeling a bit overwhelmed with the setting you are in. Usually, you wouldn’t be attending these sorts of things; your position as an engineer for the 501st allowed you to stand on the sidelines, focus on your job and nothing more. But this is a special mission. The meeting General Skywalker has is with none other than the head of foreign operations of your home world Elzu. 

The small planet could have been as beautiful as Naboo, were it not for the exploitation of natural resources by the government. By the time Elzu joined the Republic, it was drastically divided. Those who had been part of the group exploiting the resources are still the ones in power now. The rest are left to fend for themselves, many immigrating to other planets in search of a better livelihood. Your parents were part of the latter group, taking you and your siblings to Coruscant when you were about 9 years old. Thanks to their sacrifice and hard work, you now have the job you have. 

So when General Skywalker asked if you’d be willing to join him and the 501st to the meeting as a point person for all things Elzu, you were hesitant. Elzu held many bittersweet memories, and you’d only been back a handful of times since your family had left all those years ago. General Skywalker had sensed your hesitation, and asked if instead you could help by giving him a list of the customs of the planet. However, as you were writing the list, you thought back to all the ways Skywalker and the 501st had helped you get to where you are, and knew that the least you could do was help with the trip in person. Though now that you’re here, you’re starting to wish you’d just stuck to the list. 

The boisterous laugh of Fives rips you from your thoughts. You blink a few times in an attempt to refocus on the present. You turn to look at Fives, who’s sitting at your table, in an attempt to see what he’s laughing at. When your eyes travel around the other clones in your table and settle on a rather flustered looking Dogma, you have an idea of what Five’s source of entertainment currently is. 

In spite of your otherwise uncomfortable feelings, you can’t help but smile. It was rare that the clones of the 501st were so at ease while on a mission. Seeing them all gathered in the main dinner hall enjoying good food made you happy, especially knowing this type of mission would be one of a kind. 

The eating and socializing continues, and though you converse with the clones around you, you mostly stay quiet. After deciding you’d had enough to eat, you excuse yourself and walk out of the dinner hall. 

You hate to admit it, but the palace you’re currently in is gorgeous. The large and intricate structure was built from different Elzian resources, Elzian marble being the most predominant. As you mindlessly walk down the hallway, you stay close to the wall, the smooth walls leaving a cool sensation on your fingertips. You keep walking around, not really knowing where you intend on going. That is, until you spot  a sliver of the night sky. 

Your feet make their way to the landing deck on its own. It isn’t until you feel the cool night breeze on your skin that you realize just how hot it is inside. Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you step out onto the seemingly unused landing deck. You almost gasp at the sight; the height of the deck makes you feel as if you’re in the sky. 

If there was one thing you’d always miss most about Elzu, it’s the sky. It’s easy to forget that there’s even a sky in Coruscant due to the endless bustle of traffic. But that isn’t the case here. No, here, the sky is clear, the stars densely decorating it to look like the most royal of sparkling gowns. 

You take a seat directly on the landing deck, sprawling your legs out in front of you and placing your hands on the durasteel ground. Maker, you can almost reach out and touch the stars, pick them like the fruit of a tree, with how close they seem. 

“Beautiful night.”

If you weren’t sitting, you would have jumped at the sudden voice behind you. However, as the initial shock leaves you, you recognize the voice, a deep honey voice you never get tired of hearing. 

Footsteps approach you, and you can feel them under your palms. They stop as two white and blue armored legs appear next to you. Your eyes follow the legs up to their owner’s face, the brown skin and blonde hair of your favorite person making the feeling of a thousand pairs of wings erupt in your stomach. 

“Rex.”

“How are you, nau?”

At the sound of his tone, you know he can tell you’re not feeling your best. You also know there’s no point in trying to convince him otherwise. 

“I’m doing okay, given the circumstances,” you say. 

Lightly dropping his helmet to his side, he takes a seat next to you. You look at him as he mimics the way you’re sitting, legs spread out in front of him, hands on either side of him. And honestly, you can’t help but admire just how beautiful he looks. 

Your eyes move from where you see his legs brushing your own, landing instead on his face. You find him looking at you, concern etched onto his features. 

“You know how I feel about this place, Rex. It doesn’t hold the best memories,” you finally say. 

“I know,” he simply says. 

He knows. Of course he knows. He knows because he’s been by your side when you’ve had a few too many drinks at 79’s and spilled all about your childhood hardships. He knows because he’s been by your side when you try to discreetly get information on how the less fortunate of Elzu are holding up with the war. He knows because he’s always been there, with you.

Relief washes over you when you realize you don’t have to explain all the feelings caused by being on Elzu. Bringing up your legs to hug them to your chest, you look up at the sky again, the smile from earlier returning. 

“Have you ever heard of shooting stars?”

“Shooting stars?” At his question, you nod. “I haven’t, nau.”

“Well you’re in for a treat tonight.”

His brow raises, and a faint smile paints his face. “Is that right?”

You nod again. “Elzu is known for its shooting stars, sometimes called flying stars. The people of Elzu believe they’re the souls of beings who have passed all around the galaxy as they make their way to their final resting spot. Legend has it they grant wishes.”

Rex laughs lightly, not in a mocking way, but rather in a surprised way. For someone who’s usually surrounded by so many facts, Rex doesn’t expect you to be so invested in old tales. 

“Hey, I’m being serious!” you say, a laugh coming out of you as well. “I used to make a wish every night when I was a kid.”

Rex won’t ask what you wished, you know that. He doesn’t want to impose, pour salt on the wound that is already being constantly poked at while being here in Elzu. But either way, you continue, part of you needing to tell him what you wished for all those years ago. 

“I’d initially wish for childish things; a new toy or the chance to taste one of those many pastries they have inside. But then the guilt would creep in, and instead I’d wish for the star to bring my family and I stability. Not riches, those weren’t necessary, just stability. Food on the table, a roof over our heads, shoes on our feet. And the next night I’d do the same again: wish for something childish then scrap it for a worthwhile wish.”

As you finish, you don’t know what you expect Rex to say. You don’t know if you even expect him to say anything. And initially he doesn’t, he sits there next to you in silence looking up at the same sky you’d stare at endlessly as a child. 

“Ca’tra.”

You turn to look at him, the word foreign to your ears. For the most part, you knew the phrases of his native Mando’a he’d speak around you. Nau, for example, was what he called you, a nickname of sorts. He’s told you it means light, a nod to the way you two initially met during a blackout on a ship you’d been working on, a flashlight in hand as you bumped in face first to his chest. But ca’tra you didn’t know, so you waited for him to continue. 

“It means ‘night sky’,” he explains, and you make a mental note to add that to the list of Mando’a words you have written on your data pad. “I often gazed up at the night sky back in Kamino growing up. It brought me calm whenever I’d feel...uneasy.”

“Ca’tra.” You test the word in your mouth, hoping you pronounced it correctly. At his smile and nod, your heart blooms with pride. 

“And though we have no word for shooting star, we do have ka’ra, which means stars.” 

Another word to add to the list, you think. 

Your eyes go back to the sky, and almost as if on queue, you see the flash of light that filled you with hope as a child. 

“Look! A shooting star! Make a wish,” you say, closing your eyes to mentally make your own. You wish for progress in the war with as little casualties as possible, you wish for his safety. A whisper of a thought adds another part to the wish: I wish for Rex to stay by my side. 

You open your eyes slowly, glancing over at Rex to see if he’s done with his wish. Only, you don’t find him with his eyes closed as you’d had them. He’s not even looking up at the sky. No, he’s looking at you. 

For a split second, you forget how to breathe at the sight of his beautiful eyes on you. Taking a small breath, you speak. 

“Did you make a wish?” You don’t intend for your voice to be a whisper, but with the way he’s looking at you, you don’t manage anything else. 

Rex nods. “Yes, I did.”

You want to ask what it is, but know that the way wishes come true is by keeping them to yourself. 

“Well,” you say, your hand seemingly moving on its own will as it lands on top of his. “I hope your wish comes true.”

“I hope so too,” he responds. 

You turn back to look at the sky, your hand still on Rex’s. And maybe it’s the glass of Elzian wine you drank, or the fact that you’re looking up at the night sky you spent your whole childhood wishing under, or even the drunken state Rex causes you to be in regardless of the amount of alcohol in your system, but you think you know what Rex wished for. Well, you hope you know what he wished for. 

As if to put your mind at ease and to confirm your thoughts all at once, Rex moves his hand so that he’s now holding yours. The cool feeling of the durasteel you both are sitting on makes for a sharp contrast to just how warm his hand feels on your own. Before you have time to process his actions, he hits you with another jolt of electricity when he softly squeezes your hand.  

You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling, because you’re smiling too. You’re smiling the smile that only appears whenever Rex is with you, by your side, safe. 

And as the two of you sit under the night sky, you don’t feel the guilt you’d expected to feel at the last addition to your wish. It’s a bit selfish, you admit, wishing for something exclusively for you. But you don’t, can’t feel guilt when all you feel is warm, kind love with Rex by your side. 

When the next shooting star paints the sky, you once again wish for Rex to stay by your side, nothing more, nothing less.

[cinnella]

Name: Calyx Everhart (chosen name); Izar Sauvageau (birth name)

Age: 22 years old

Sex: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Zodiac sign: Sagittarius

Birthday: December 16th

Patron Arcana: Temperance (Major); Knight of Wands (Minor)

Occupation: Herbalist, magician and jeweler-hobbyist

Height: 5'9" (1.75 m)

Weight: 152 lbs (69 kg)

Relatives:

Celeste Sauvageau - mother (deceased)

Isaac Sauvageau - father (deceased)

Elias Vincent - family friend (deceased)

Origin: Born close to the Macawi Port, grew up in Vesuvia

Race: French, with Spanish roots

Powers: Green (herbalogy) magic and the ability to control earth, plants and the alike

Intelligence Level: On a scale from 1 to 10, he's close to 6.4

Backstory:

Not far off from the Macawi Port, a small village sat between two hills, and one afternoon while his parents had been really busy, he was born unexpectedly.

He lived a simple life there for his first two years. His parents knew that he'd feel lonely so they wanted to gift him a sibling. When the time came for his mother to give birth, it went tragically wrong. Both her and the baby passed away.

His father fell into a deep depression and soon took his life, unable to live with the thought of losing them. Izar was left with no one, but Elias, his parents' old time friend.

But he was way too old to take care of a child. He didn't know if he'd live long enough to raise him.

Luckily, a traveler had been in town for a while, saying that they were looking for orphaned children that needed care. So, with pain in his heart and tears in his eyes, Elias gave little Izar away.

About a week later, he was brought to Vesuvia, to an orphanage in the South End where many others were taken care of.

There, he grew up a rather lonely child. He was sweet and kind, but he always somehow caused troubles for the others. Even so, one child in particular wanted to be friends with him.

She had dark skin, beautiful jade eyes and chestnut brown hair. The adults often referred to her as Allira. Almost immediately, they became best friends and quite inseparable at that too.

When he was around 5 years old, they both joined a small group of kids. He was told to be aware of them because they were troublesome and although Izar didn't want to mingle in such things, he felt good vibes coming from them.

The so called leader in group's name was Syro. The others were two girls named Morana and Eris. And even if the three of them were skeptical at best to let the two 5 year olds join them, they still did. After all, Izar kind of insisted that they do.

He already knew what the caretakers had in plan for him when he'd grow up some more- they made it their goal to teach the kids the basics of reading and writing and let them choose a name for themselves.

And when the time came, Allira was the first to change her name, into Libelle. Although there was only a two month gap between them, he felt a little jealous, being the youngest. But then his birthday came too.

And so, Izar Sauvageau became Calyx Everhart.

His childhood was nothing short of decent. It wasn't the best, but it was good enough for him. Full of adventures and mischief, things he surprisingly enjoyed, and a group of friends- or siblings if you will- who were always willing to make his day better.

But then, like a dam crashing, bad news came with the years that passed. The adults made it clear that they loved the kids as their own, but they were getting old and rusty to take care of so many. So, when each of them would turn 17, they'd have to leave and make their own future.

Eris was first to leave as she was eldest. Cal isn't the type to vocally admit his emotions, but he hugged her so tight that day, he was afraid to let go.

As time passed by, and he entered puberty, Morana and Syro had to leave too. In the end it was only him and Libelle left. The other three would visit of course, but it wasn't the same.

Then, when it was Libelle's turn, she couldn't leave him behind, so they left together. Their main priority was to find something left of their roots, their relatives.

They tried to find Libelle's first, but to no avail. They only found a distant friend of her parents who told them what happened to them. She was so shaken up from such revelations that they had to go back to Vesuvia to calm down for a while.

Not much later, after gathering enough information, they took a boat and traveled to the Macawi Port, where he was told he'd find someone who knew about his heritage. Eris accompanied them. After what happened to Libelle, they didn't want to risk the same thing happening to him.

There, they found Elias Vincent, his parents' friend that gave him away so many years ago. He was old, barely standing anymore, and it took him a while to recognize Calyx. Elias sat down him down, explained everything to him. After half an hour of discovering tragedies and rivers of tears on their cheeks, they spent the night there and left at dawn.

There was nothing left for Calyx there, he had his own family and future to make in Vesuvia.

But then, 2 years later, the Red Plague arrived. All of them except Eris knew it'd be better to leave, to flee from the place.

Him and Libelle took to their own path, and traveled across to Venterre, where Eris told them to find her brother, Sethos. He would shelter them until the chaos would be gone.

And so they did, but a couple of days later, the three of them were shocked to receive news that Eris had caught the plague and died.

Then one night, Libelle frantically woke both of them up, telling them she felt Eris' energy. That she had a vision of her being alive. So Calyx wrote a letter to Syro and Morana, letting them know they had to meet up in Vesuvia and find her. And true to Libelle's visions, Eris was alive and well.

Apparently, Asra, the one that she lived with in her shop, brought her back through a sacrifice. But they couldn't let her know anything of her past or it would trigger immense headaches and catatonia.

After she was assigned to Count Lucio's murder case, the others all made it their duty to help her in some way.

So he took it upon himself to make sure they had all the ingredients needed for any sort of ritual or potion or anything else.

And Portia, the Countess' trusted handmaiden, offered to help him.

He didn't expect to fall in love with her though.

Personality: compassionate, anxious, caring, loving, forgiving, determined, self-less, energetic, trustworthy, honest, faithful, genuinely passionate, friendly, a little shy and very kind-hearted

Interesting facts:

The identical tear-drop tattoos under his eyes are a result of Syro and Morana dragging the others to get tattoos as well.

Gemstones and crystals are his passion and number one hobby.

He doesn't trust easily, no matter how friendly and polite he may be.

Although he loves to create jewelry, he doesn't wear it often.

He's sometimes insecure about his appearance, but he tries his best to think positively of himself.

Loves animals, especially bunnies, they're his favorite.

He loooooves playing the piano, especially if he's dueting with someone.

He has a scar on the right side of his neck and one on his right pec, both from dagger cuts.

Appearance: Limestone skin tone, straight-quiff strawberry blond dyed hair, silverish-grey eyes, soft skinny inverted triangle body shape

Familiar: Mauve, the most beautiful and mischievous violet-backed starling in town

Voice claim: Heath Ledger

Full sprite:

AND HERE'S MY UWU BOY, CALYX!!💜

It didn't take me as long as I thought it would, the drawing process was actually pretty easy and smooth going.

Which makes me constantly think I missed something--

ANYWAYS, PLEASE SHOW MY BABY LOVE!!

[cxmetery-gates]

VALOR - DARTH MAUL

PROLOGUE: FREEDOM

SUMMARY: Ucilla Zykoff, a troubled Padawan, and her Master are sent to protect Duchess Satine Kryze alongside Master Qui-Gon Jinn and Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. However, an ambush leaves Ucilla wither her first taste of freedom. WORD COUNT: 2k NOTES: I told myself not to make a Darth Maul fic. Oops. I also told myself to just make my OC human and definitely do not create a race of near-humans. Didn’t do that either. I’ll be posting a ramble about Ucilla’s species in the future! WARNINGS: sci-fi violence, kinda angsty?

VALOR MASTERLIST

THROUGH THICK CLOUDS OF DUST and an onslaught of armored fighters closing in, a racing heart hammered as erratic as the blaster fire pointed in her direction. Wrath encased the young girl, white-hot rage allowing for her power to extend to the weapons stationed in her hands. A fuchsia hue lit up her surroundings as each blade swung, a bubble appearing as if forming a shield to deflect the oncoming storm.

Ucilla Zykoff huffed at a lock of loose icy blonde hair that attempted to block her vision. Her palms were beginning to perspire as she worked beside her Master, blocking blaster fire and reflecting them back into the chest of her enemies. The rebels were no match against two well-trained Jedi, so her bewilderment as to why the Mandalorian terrorists were not aware of their eventual defeat was only natural for the hot-headed Padawan.

A beam of scarlet missed Ucilla's head by an inch. Recalling the time a blaster bolt constrained her to rely on a splint for a month, Ucilla, with her teeth bared, swung her lightsabers at great speed and agility, projecting two rounds through a pair of skulls.

The Jedi Council sending Ucilla and her Master on this mission was inevitable. Growing concerns about a civil war was on the rise caused by a heritage-based splinter group stirring up problems, leading Mandalore to grow more and more worried. To diffuse the tension between the planet and the traditionalist Mandalorians, the Council sent two of their best Jedi along with their Padawans to take care of the situation and to protect the future Duchess.

Peacefully and civilly, they were told.

One of Ucilla's lightsaber penetrated upwards through the ribs of a human who flew too close, the other blade thrown to dismember another while slicing through their jetpack.

Well, at least she tried.

Following traditional Jedi styles of dueling did not come as naturally as the offensive for Ucilla. As a Youngling, Ucilla was routinely reminded that the light side of the Force should control her movements rather than relying on defeat or death as her enemy's outcome. Ucilla guessed her aptitude for aggressive maneuvers was why Adi Gallia was assigned as her Master. Adi Gallia was one of the best of Jedi Masters: focused, determined, and, perhaps most importantly, strong with the light side. It would not have surprised Ucilla to find out the Jedi Council were hoping Master Adi would rub off on the girl.

Ucilla deflected another torrent of bolts, the swing of her two purplish-red lightsabers creating a haze around her lithe figure. Not too far away, the Padawan spotted her Master, a cobalt saber cutting through attacks as if this were nothing more than practice.

Amidst the battle, Ucilla suddenly felt vibrations beneath her feet, the tremble of echoes. Her mind was mostly focused on the assault, but her species' sensitive senses allowed for the Padawan to identify the peculiar shifts in the ground: the reverberation of what sounds like footsteps in a tunnel.

Confused, Ucilla willed herself to focus on the dirt, throwing herself behind a fallen building to lay close to the ground, pressing her ear into the rubble. As impossible as it seemed, Ucilla felt the quakes beneath the earth of Kalevala as terrorists moved in and move out, both above and beneath the surface. Suddenly, there were scattered explosions, the dirt beginning to loosen and with her sharp senses, Ucilla could sense what her Master could not.

Per his instruction, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Duchess Satine Kryze took a speeder to the rendezvous point, their hide-out on Kalevala. What was supposed to be an investigation into the seeming ghost town turned into the battle Ucilla and the two Jedi Masters face alone in the center of the city― nearing the heart of the next attack.

"Kriff," swore Ucilla, bouncing up to her feet. During the ambush, Ucilla and Master Adi became separated from Master Jinn. Before their separation, Master Jinn made the remark that this could have been a trap to capture the Duchess while in search of food and supplies. Ucilla, ever the pessimist, agreed with the Jedi Master's assessment, but she wasn't prepared for the explosions erupting under her feet as the Mandalorians' attempt to usurp the future ruler.

In hindsight, the action makes complete sense for their war-hungry kind. Looking at where she was, to blow up an entire city just to undermine four Jedi is in ancient Mandalorian style, after all.

Her thoughts shifted to the Padawan and Duchess. Both Jedi Masters ordered Obi-Wan and Duchess Satine to head back to their hide-out before so much as a scout found them. Now, Ucilla wondered how long they were in the enemy sights. Fearing the worst, Ucilla could only imagine the fight Obi-Wan and the Duchess found themselves in now.

"Master!" Ucilla cried out, rushing towards Adi. The two Jedi make haste to hide behind debris. With their backs against the dusty, fallen pillar, Ucilla took several deep breathes before facing her Master. "There's a tunnel system beneath us, and from what I've learned about these traditionalists, I don't think they're just for soldier transportation. I think the Mandalorians are setting off bombs to destroy the city."

Master Adi nodded. "They want to take over Kalevala the only way they know how: through destruction."

"Unfortunately," Ucilla growled, ducking her head as a shot skimmed over the pillar. "We need to get out of here. I sense something worse than blasters if we do not leave."

The Tholothian give an aspirated exhale. "Try to retreat to the alley," Master Adi responded. "From there, we will find Master Jinn."

Ucilla looked behind her where Master Adi's eyes were trained. An alley could be spotted but there was a far and wide opening between them and safety. But orders were orders, and a good Padawan listens to their Master.

The Jedi leap from their position, finding an assault of beams pointed in their direction. Ucilla could not tell for sure, but it seemed as though the number of Mandalorians multiplied by tenfold. Even with two fuchsia sabers, Ucilla thought another just might help.

And perhaps it would have: Ucilla fell to the ground with a yelp when blaster fire shot through her left shoulder. The sensation burned every charred piece of flesh that the fire dug through until it shot through the other side.

The blonde Scaki shot backwards on her back, rolling to avoid further hits. Unlike ever before, an indescribable shade of red passed over her vision, turning her agonizing pain into raw power. Had her Master had the time, Master Adi most likely would have scolded her Padawan for using the Force to propel a dozen advancing Mandalorians straight into the buildings so fast that they had no time to scream before death took them.

"Ucilla!" the Master cried, scarcely lifting her eyes from blasters. "Are you alright? Can you get to safety?"

The voice of Master Adi broke Ucilla's concentration, a good thing for everyone.

Grunting with a shake of her head, Ucilla stood, attaching one saber to her belt while the other continued to block incoming attacks. "Go," the Padawan shouted, "I'll cover you, Master."

As though the earth below let out a large exhale, the ground beneath the square quaked, a rumble coming from the underground. For a moment, Ucilla, Master Adi, and the rebels ceased all fire as their balance became lost.

No one found their ground again. With another mighty roar, the earth was close to collapse. Ucilla knew this, so did Adi.

The Force was hesitant with Ucilla's desires, as if pleading not to. Ucilla was not after a suicide mission, but the fear of her permanent death did strike a punch to her courage. As long as she planned it timely, she would survive.

And she was right.

Just moments before, Ucilla Force-pushed her Master several meters away and, no more than a few seconds later, Ucilla found herself running away from the collapsing earth, yet still caught amongst the rubble. Using all that she was trained in as well as the gifts of her species, Ucilla dug through the rubble, ensuring where she lied would not allow for rubble to completely crush her.

Ucilla's heart was loud in her eardrums. Darkness encased her no matter where she was. Her golden eyes were attuned to the dark, yet no shapes could be spotted in the enclosed space. The air was thick in dust, heavy in uneasiness. It was moments like these where Ucilla wished she had paid more attention in her training. Though mediation was an easy skill, the impending doom disrupted all her thoughts, slicing through any kind of call she attempted to push out.

No matter how hard she tried to call out to her Master, Ucilla came to realize no one was coming to help her. It was not long before Ucilla felt her Master slip away, no doubt joining up with Master Jinn and Obi-Wan to relocate with the Duchess.

She should have known the Jedi Master would not come to search through the rubble. There were matters far more important than a Padawan: cities to protect, battles to be fought, innocents to save. The Jedi were sent to Mandalore to protect the world and the rulers from the rebel group, and Ucilla's passing would not hinder such plans. The Scaki girl would be remembered for her bravery and self-sacrifice.

Shock eventually took over. Before long, all Ucilla could feel around her was the dirt in the callous of her fingers and weight of stone trying to collapse. As though her breathing stopped entirely, Ucilla's racing heart, thoughts, and very life also seemed to slow down. The Padawan almost felt dead as she lied in a state close to rigor.

A great feeling entered her as she found strength to move. Fearing that she would perish alone under a fallen city, anger and preservation finally unlocked her lifeless body. Her hands pressed against the stone slabs, nails dig into dirt, and shoves force the rubble around her to lift away, creating an opening for the moons and starlight to fill the void.

Ucilla was cautious as she ascended. No life could be spotted according to her senses, but she was still not completely convinced. When her hands gripped the edge of the ground from where it fell, she pushed herself over, only to end up lying face up in the dirt, her breathing hard and muscles shaking.

The stars that dotted the sky looked similar to those above Coruscant. All constellations began to look alike after seeing so many skies on so many worlds. She found no home in the night sky she watched as a Youngling, and now, as she watches the interstellar clouds on Kalevana, Ucilla realized she never had a home. All she had was a cell.

It was not long before Ucilla let out a laugh, her golden eyes watching the stars shine down on her. Her pale hands reach up to cover her mouth, a giggle escaping between her fingers. It was only then did she feel the tear-stained paths on her cheek, but by that point, it was unclear whether those broke free amidst her turmoil or as she relished in her newfound joy.

So, this is what freedom tastes like.

Ucilla found her golden eyes lost in the fields of stars and nebulas. Just as them, she had no obligations, none to abide by or listen to. She had herself and that felt like enough.

As Ucilla walked towards where she came, she stumbled across her discarded cloak. After brushing away the dust, the now-presumed-dead Padawan slipped her arms through the sleeves then pulled the hood over the top of her head. Ucilla stuffed the lightsaber attached to her belt into the inside pocket in as she leaned down to grip a discarded blaster.

Kalevana was not completely desolate. All planets have populated cities full of inhabitants who want nothing to do with wars or Jedi business. That was what she planned to find, and Ucilla was apt to have her way.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

TAGLIST:

@bonesaldente​

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED, LET ME KNOW!

[wistfulcynic]

The Eternal and Unseen (3 of 4)

SO yeah. The chapter count has grown. There’s a lot going on here. David has a backstory. Emma and Killian have a mission. IT’S A LOT and it needs more words. 

CW: This chapter contains minor (and canon compliant) character death and a potentially distressing scene involving the accidental death of a child. It’s not graphic but it is emotional so be prepared. 

As ever, thanks to @ohmightydevviepuu for plotting with me and @thisonesatellite and @katie-dub for general amazingness and @optomisticgirl​ and @spartanguard​ for the prompts and the always-enthusiastic responses 😘

And @carpedzem​ for another absolutely stunning drawing. SEE BELOW. 

SUMMARY: Misthaven University is an ancient place, and as all ancient places do it guards some secrets. Secrets such as Emma Swan and Killian Jones, a fae princess and her royal guardian, whose true identities are well concealed behind the guise of average college students—if not quite well enough to foil the plot their enemies have hatched against them. Now their friends will have to come together, putting their own differences aside to battle an enemy that threatens them all—fae and vampire and werewolf together… plus one very baffled human named David.

For @cssns​

AO3 | tumblr part one | tumblr part two 

-

(I MEAN. WHAT. SO PERFECT.)

-

PART THREE:

They returned to Andersen just as twilight was creeping across the sky and the moon rising into it, heavy and dark gold as it crested the forest trees. Emma watched it through the window of her room, where she and Killian and David had retreated to rest a bit and collect themselves before deciding on their next move. The others had also gone to their rooms rest and prepare, and now David sat on Emma’s bed with his hands clasped in his lap and his shoulders tight as Killian made Emma a cup of tea and she frowned at the moon. 

David watched in silence as Killian approached Emma and offered her a steaming cup. She accepted it with a smile and a cheek turned up to meet the kiss he dropped on it, in a gesture so comfortable and natural it gave David’s heart a little twinge. He wondered how he could ever have thought they weren’t right for each other when the depth and intensity of their love was so very, very obvious. 

But then he was becoming aware that there were in fact a great many obvious things in this world that he hadn’t been able to see. It was not a comfortable thought. 

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “I get that you’ve both got a lot of thinking to do right now. But could you—is there time for you just to explain a few things first? Like exactly what the hell is going on? I feel like everyone knows what’s happening here but me.” 

“That shouldn’t be a new feeling for you,” remarked Killian with a smirk. David sighed. 

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair. I’m not sure how I missed so much of what was happening around me, but I see it now and I’d like to understand it.”

Emma and Killian exchanged a glance. 

“What exactly have you seen?” Emma asked. 

“Visions?” David said uncertainly. “Of the past? Killian made me drink something purple and then I started seeing things.” 

“Something purple?” Emma frowned. 

“Yeah. He put some grey powder and a crushed up leaf into a beaker full of something Victor gave him, and it turned purple. And started to smoke,” said David.

“You gave him purple willow bark?” Emma turned to Killian in alarm.

“Aye,” Killian replied. “Along with the sap from one of Jane’s leaves.”  

“Oh.” Emma relaxed. “Well, that was the right choice of leaf at least.” 

“I do listen when you talk about the plants, love.”  

“Hmmm,” said Emma. “And how did you feel afterwards?” she asked David. 

“I—kind of passed out.” 

Emma nodded. “I’m not surprised. Purple willow packs a punch. Normally we blend a few herbs into the emulsifier to soften its effects, but there’s no way Killian could have known the correct ones. He did the best he could in the circumstances.” She gave Killian a smile that tried hard to be sardonic. “This time, though, I’ll give you the gentler version.” 

David started. “This time?” 

“Well, yeah,” said Emma. “It’s the easiest way to give you the information you need. We could explain, I suppose, but it’s really best if you see it for yourself. Especially if you want to know your own history.” 

“My… own history?” 

Emma nodded, her expression sorrowful and soft with sympathy. “Yeah. You’ve seen the history of the fae and the Guardians, now you need to understand where you fit into that.” 

“Killian—” David cleared his throat. “Killian said I’m a—a Guardian? Like he is?” 

“Yeah you are. But as you’ve probably guessed there’s more to it than that. Are you ready to See?” 

David swallowed hard. Part of him still wanted to say no, to deny all of this and run, back to yesterday when things had made sense. But a bigger part of him knew he needed to know, and to understand why all these crazy things that were happening to him seemed less and less crazy the more he thought about them. The more he thought. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m ready.” 

~

It’s less abrupt this time, smoother, as though he’s drifting in a boat on a misty sea. The mist clears and the sea recedes and he is standing at the edge of a wood, with fields at his back and before him trees that reach up to the sky, tall and straight as in the forest of the fae council, only now they frame not an ancient round stone but a house. It’s a nice house if rather a small one, humble but homey, made of wood and fronted by a well-kept garden with a creek running through it. Something about the house tickles at David’s memory—though no, not his memory exactly, more a feeling… the sense that he has been here before. 

He blinks and finds himself inside the house, in a cramped bedroom where a woman lies back against rumpled pillows, exhausted, cradling a tiny newborn baby in her arms. Slowly she traces the curve of the baby’s cheek with the tip of her finger, her eyes alight with wonder. 

“James,” she whispers. “Your name is James.” 

“And who is this one?” asks a voice. David turns to see another woman, plain and sturdy and with kind eyes, holding up another tiny bundle. This second bundle she places gently in the crook of the woman’s other arm. 

“David,” says the woman on the bed. “This one is David.” 

David gasps and his eyes fly to the woman, but before he can get a good look at her the scene is shifting and he sees the babies—himself and his brother—his brother—now toddlers, running through the woods behind the house. He knows, somehow, which is himself and which is James—though their faces are identical, James’s wears an expression of recklessness and mischief as he runs as fast as his young legs can take him to the edge of the creek that comes out from the woods to cut across the corner of their garden. Young David follows, his tiny face crumpling as he calls out to his brother, and David now can feel the terror of his younger self as he sees James slip on the slick rocks that border the creek, hears his brother’s cry, abruptly silenced as his head hits the stones… David sees his own young legs move as fast as they can—faster than they should—but still far too slowly. He hears a heartrending scream, feels the flurry of movement as his mother runs from the garden—she turned her back for the briefest moment—and David looks away. His toddler self is bawling and he cannot watch it, cannot listen to his mother’s broken sobs… this, he thinks, this must be why she never told him that he had a twin. Her cries are unearthly as she cradles James’s tiny form, and they echo in David’s aching chest as he squeezes his eyes shut and wills the scene to change. 

It does, and when he looks again he’s back inside the house where it is clear that time has passed—though it cannot be much; David’s younger self is older now but by a few months or so, no more. He is in the bedroom again, where a man with a very familiar square chin and blond hair arms himself for battle, while David’s mother sits on the bed and pleads for him to stay. 

“You know that I can’t, Ruth,” the man says, “The call has come, and my duty—” 

“Oh, your duty!” Ruth cries. “You’re not even the chosen Guardian!” 

“But I am a guardian,” he insists. “I must go to battle when called. And David—” 

“David is a child!” 

“A child with a bounden duty, the same as my own. You knew this when you married me.” 

“I know. I know I did but I can’t bear it now,” sobs Ruth. “I can’t, Robert. Not so soon after James.” 

Robert takes her face gently in his hands and kisses her. “I will return,” he says softly. “I promise, my love.”  

But David knows, even without being shown by the vision, that he never did. 

The scene shifts again. Very little time has passed, David can tell, but the change in his mother is heartbreaking. She is wan, gaunt, lying listlessly on the sofa with no expression in her eyes, and David can feel the worry of his toddler self as he makes a show of playing quietly on the floor, but with far more attention on his mother than his toys. She is weakened by despair and fragile from her losses, and young though he is, David is afraid for her. 

There is a knock at the door but his mother makes move to answer or even acknowledge it. It’s David who toddles over and cries “Come in!” 

The door opens to admit a woman, pale and blonde and green-eyed. Her face resembles Emma’s though considerably older, and she lacks the determined chin, the stubborn glint in the eye that Emma has. 

His mother’s eyes flit briefly to the woman then away, and she makes no move to rise. “Princess Angharad,” she says flatly. 

“Ruth,” replies the woman, coming to stand next to the sofa. Her stern expression softens in sympathy and, David thinks, a hint of pity. “I’m so very sorry.” 

“I’m sure you are,” sneers Ruth. “You lost a fine warrior, after all.” 

David gapes—never in his life has he heard his mother speak so rudely. Angharad’s expression does not change. 

“Your sacrifice has been great—” she begins, but Ruth interrupts her.

“Yes it has,” she says sharply. “And it won’t be any greater. I’m taking David and I am leaving this place.” 

Angharad’s eyebrows rise then snap together in a frown. “Leaving!” she exclaims.

“Yes.” 

“But—you know that David has been chosen as the Guardian for my granddaughter, Emma.” 

“Yes I do.” 

“His selection was a great honour.”  

“Yes it was. And I refuse it. You can’t have him.” 

“Ruth—” 

“No!” There’s fire in Ruth’s eyes now, sparking dangerously as she sits up straight to glare at the princess. “You’ve taken my husband. I’ve lost my son. David is all I have left, you will not take him from me too!” 

“But the Guardian—” 

“Choose another.” 

Angharad steps backwards and nearly stumbles into the armchair next to the sofa. She twists her hands together in her lap. “It is your right, as you know, to make this refusal on behalf of your minor child,” she says. “But I would urge you, strongly urge you to reconsider.” 

“I won’t.” Ruth’s jaw is set. “My mind is made up.” 

The princess’s own jaw is tight, her eyes troubled. “There is another who might do,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “Closer in age to Emma than we generally prefer and with certain… troubling portents, but if you are truly adamant…” She darts a glance at Ruth. 

“I am,” Ruth confirms. Angharad nods. She looks up again and this time holds Ruth’s gaze.

“And what is your intention, when you leave us?” she asks. “Where will you go?”

“Into the human world. I’m going to raise my son among his own kind, humans who have no obligation to the fae or any knowledge of darkness or covenants. He’ll grow up as far away from magic as I can get him.” 

Angharad’s face is sorrowful now. “I cannot agree with this decision, as much as I sympathise with why you have taken it. This recent battle has brought great losses to many of our human allies. For that I am boundlessly sorry.” 

“I don’t accept your apology,” says Ruth stiffly. “Although I do acknowledge it.” 

“That is fair.” Angharad nods. She straightens her shoulders and looks at Ruth again. “Before I go and with your permission, I would bestow on you one final gift.” 

Ruth’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “What sort of gift?” 

Angharad looks at young David, still playing on the floor and listening, older David is certain, to every word. “The human world is not like ours but there is still magic there, and David with his heritage and the distinction that should have been his will find himself drawn to it,” she explains. “I can—close his mind, as it were, to the perception of that magic, make it far more difficult for him to see and easier to rationalise if he does see it.” 

“You want to mess with my son’s head,” says Ruth flatly.

“In a manner of speaking,” Angharad concedes. “It’s not normally something I would do especially to a child so young, but understand me well, Ruth—underestimating the pull of his heritage, of two hundred generations of Guardians, would be a grave mistake. Even with this spell upon him he may still find himself drawn by magic. You cannot keep him from it by your will alone.” 

“Fine,” Ruth spits. “Do what you like.” 

Angharad approaches young David with a kind smile and kneels beside him. 

“What’s that you’re playing with?” she asks. 

“Lego!” he exclaims. “It’s a castle!” 

“And a very fine one too,” Angharad murmurs, with such sadness in her eyes David’s heart aches. She brushes the hair from his forehead then lets her hand rest there as she murmurs a few words. David feels his younger mind blur and shift and resettle. The toddler’s eyes go hazy and he blinks them slowly, and when the princess removes her hand he returns to his toys, blithely building his castle as though she were not even there. 

Angharad rises to her feet. “I shall take the sword now,” she says briskly. 

Ruth gets up from the sofa and disappears through the bedroom door. When she returns she is carrying a long sword—the same sword David last saw belted around his father’s waist. The one that is now in his own possession. 

“What will you do with it?” Ruth asks, thrusting the sword at Angharad.  

“Keep it safe,” she replies. “It rightfully belongs to your son, and to his descendants. One day perhaps one of them might wish to claim it.” 

“I hope not,” says Ruth. “With every fibre of my being I hope it.” 

“That is your right, and your prerogative,” replies Angharad. “As it is mine to hope that despite everything that has come to pass, one day David may take it up again, and find his way back to us.”

~

Emma sat in her armchair with her legs curled beneath her and a cup of tea steaming gently in her hand, watching the images flickering in her scrying mirror. David was lying in her bed, his eyes moving frantically beneath closed lids and his limbs twitching as he re-lived his history. Killian and Harriet both sat at his beside, ready to react should anything go wrong. Emma cast a glance at them, smiling fondly at the sight of one of Harriet’s fronds curled gently around Killian’s neck, stroking the nape of it as Emma herself liked to do. Killian gave a little hum at the tickling caress but did not look up from the book that lay open in his lap. 

Emma turned her attention back to the mirror. The images it revealed confirmed her suspicions, but something about the whole business still troubled her, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She frowned as she went back over some of the images, playing them again, willing herself to see what she was missing. 

Harriet unfurled one of her vines—not the one standing ready to protect David or the one fondling Killian (Harriet was an excellent multi-tasker) and with the closest thing to a long-suffering sigh a plant can muster tapped the tip of a leaf against one of the posters Emma had blu-tacked to the wall. The one that outlined the lunar cycles of the year 2020. Another leaf gestured emphatically at the window, where the golden moon was still rising in the sky.

“Of course,” breathed Emma. “That’s it.”  

Killian looked up from his book. “That’s what, love?” 

“I’ve just figured out what’s been bothering me about this whole thing,” Emma exclaimed. Harriet huffed and folded her vine as a person might fold their arms across their chest. “Okay, okay,” laughed Emma, “it was Harriet who figured it out.” 

“Naturally.” Killian gave Harriet a little scratch behind her leaf. 

“But it all makes sense now,” Emma continued. “Things I couldn’t find a good explanation for, like why those women would kidnap me and why my instincts would tell me they were deadly dangerous when every other sign indicates that they’re really, really not.” She set her teacup down on her desk and leapt to her feet, dropping an absent kiss on Killian’s cheek as she headed for the door. “You stay here until David wakes up, okay? It should only be a few more minutes. I need to go talk to Belle.” 

~

Angharad’s final words echo in his ears as the scene shifts around her, and though her face appears unchanged David senses she is now some years older. This seems confirmed by the young woman seated in front of her, a blonde and green-eyed fae that is, finally, Emma. 

She’s so young, David thinks, with a small twinge beneath his heart, though this cannot be more than a few years in the past. Emma’s face is rounder and her hair less styled, though he can see the seeds of the woman he knows in the stubborn set to her girlish jaw and the wilful spark in her eyes. She’s dressed in a long split skirt and a fitted leather jerkin in her trademark red, which even with his limited knowledge from these visions David recognises as a traditional fae style, updated for the modern world, and he is not surprised that this is something young Emma might choose to wear. She sits on a wide, cushioned seat in a large room where the walls appear to be formed of tightly twisted tree branches with tall windows and a wooden door set into them. David reflects for a moment how a mere twenty-four hours ago such decor would have astonished him, then returns his attention to Angharad and to Emma.

“Now that you are about to come of age,” the elder fae is saying, “it’s high time you met your Guardian.” 

“Ugh. Do I have to?” 

Emma manages not to whine but David can tell it’s a near thing. She crosses her arms over her chest and it’s plain to see her lower lip wants badly to pout. 

“Don’t you want to?” Angharad looks shocked. 

“No, actually,” Emma retorts. “I don’t need a man to take care of me.” 

“He is not a man, he’s your Guardian,” her grandmother scolds, “and his job is not to ‘take care of you.’ It is to protect you.” 

“I don’t need that either!” 

Angharad’s expression says plainly that she is holding tight to her patience. “Emma, the most recent battles are within your lifetime—” 

“Barely,” Emma mutters.

“—and despite your gifts for scrying you cannot predict with certainty when there might be another. After the loss of both your parents and so many of our kind we simply cannot afford to be without our Guardians should we find ourselves again under attack. Without their aid fae kind would have been lost thousands of years ago, and indeed as the covenants say—” 

“All right, all right,” groans Emma. “For the love of the goddess, don’t start quoting the covenants. I’ll accept this Guardian and do what is required of me. But you canNOT make me need him!” 

“I will pray that you never do,” says Angharad, now with a twinkle of humour behind her stern expression. 

A knock sounds at the door, and she goes to open it. A young man enters the room, mid-twenties at David’s estimate and moving with a distinct stiffness in his right leg. “Ah, good day to you, Captain Jones,” Angharad greets him warmly. “Do come in. But where is your brother?” 

“Outside looking at your horses,” says the man with a sigh. He continues to speak but David doesn’t hear his words—he has noticed Emma slip quietly from the room and he follows her. She creeps down a narrow hallway and through a door at the back of the dwelling. Once outside she darts through a sparse scattering of trees, heading for a long, low building that David gathers to be the stables. Just as she approaches the broad stable door it flies open and a boy strides through it, colliding with Emma and barely managing to catch her before she can fall. 

“Oh!” she cries and the boy grunts, blinking startled blue eyes as he gazes down at her. Her own eyes widen and for a moment they stand frozen, his arms around her waist and her hands on his chest, staring at each other in helpless fascination—until the boy blinks rapidly and clears his throat as he steps back. 

Killian—because of course it’s he—scratches nervously behind his ear. 

“Um,” he says, “er... ah…” 

“Eloquent,” teases Emma, who has by all appearance regained her composure—though David notes the bright flush in her cheeks and the breathiness of her voice. “You must be Killian Jones.” 

“Aye,” he replies, collecting his wits and giving her a hesitant smile. “And you are of course the princess Emma.” 

“I am.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, lass.” 

“The pleasure is all yours,” retorts Emma. Killian looks first startled, then affronted, then captivated, all within a few blinks of an eye. A delighted grin spreads across his face, with just a hint of the smirk he will perfect in years to come. 

Emma herself blinks at that grin, and the flush on her cheeks deepens. “You should know from the start that I don’t need a Guardian,” she declares, attempting to cover her discomfiture with a haughty glare. “I can take care of myself.” 

“Oh yes,” says Killian. His gaze travels slowly down her form and back up again. “I don’t doubt that you can.” 

“Oh.” Emma scowls at his easy acquiescence and also, David imagines, at the way he’s looking at her—as though she’s the most brilliant thing he’s ever seen. She shifts uncomfortably as Killian moves closer. 

“But however capable you may be, Your Highness,” he says, his voice dropping lower and his expression hardening, “and regardless of whether or not you want one, you’ve got a Guardian. Me.” He leans in closer still and David can hear Emma’s breath catch. “And I intend to take my duties very, very seriously.” 

“But I don’t need you!” Emma snaps. There’s frustration in her tone and temper in her eyes, though she doesn’t, David notices, back away. 

“And I don’t care.” 

They are so close now their noses are nearly touching and the air crackles with the tension between them. David is all too familiar with these battles of wills of theirs, having witnessed many firsthand in the dorm, but this one, the first one, is the most intense of all. He holds his own breath as he watches them take the measure of each other, notes the rapid rise and fall of their chests and the way their eyes are locked, how Killian’s hand curls around Emma’s hip and hers slides up his chest without either of them noticing. He begins to feel as though he should look away—this moment is too intimate for him to witness—but then Angharad’s voice cries “Emma!” from the direction of the house and she and Killian wrench themselves apart. 

They stare at each other for a moment as they attempt to catch their breaths, then Emma gives her hair a toss. 

“Well,” she huffs, “have it your way, I guess. You can follow me around if you like, I can’t stop you, but you’re going to look pretty stupid when you show up to save me and find I’ve already saved myself.” 

Killian laughs, loud and bright. “I’m prepared to take that chance, princess,” he says. 

The scene shimmers and resolves into two figures walking through the woods. One is Killian and the other his brother, the man whom Angharad addressed earlier as Captain Jones. His limp is more pronounced now, a halting gait caused by the stiff way he holds his right leg and his clear reluctance to put weight on it, as though the knee cannot be fully trusted. The two of them emerge from the trees and out onto a narrow road where a car is parked. David notes the way Killian moderates his own pace to match his brother’s, unconsciously, walking slowly despite the buzz of nervous energy that is rolling off him in waves.

They approach the car and Killian removes a set of keys from his pocket to unlock it, then gets behind the wheel while his brother with effort eases himself into the passenger seat. There’s a scowl on Killian’s face and his movements are jerky as he puts the car in gear; his brother has been lecturing him and he is clearly displeased. David hasn’t been listening to their words but he concentrates on them now, just in time to hear Killian snap “Bloody hell, Liam—” 

“Language!” 

“—I only met her today! We spoke for less than five minutes! Don’t you think it’s a bit premature to be warning me away from her!” 

“I wish it were,” Liam mutters. “Sometimes five minutes is all it takes.” 

Killian grips the steering wheel hard with one hand and jams the key into the ignition with the other. “What the devil are you on about?” he grumbles, though the look on his face makes David suspect that he knows full well what Liam is ‘on about’, and that it worries him too. 

Liam sighs. “Look, just—just be careful, little brother.” 

“When am I not careful, and it’s younger brother, if you don’t mind.” 

“Killian.” Liam’s face is intensely solemn, with genuine fear behind his eyes. “You can’t fall in love with her.” 

Killian shoots his brother a glare as he twists the key and the car’s engine roars to life. “I know that,” he snaps, “and I don’t intend to.” 

David nearly laughs. If that’s what has Liam so concerned, his warning’s come far too late. Killian is halfway in love already, and his feelings are a tide that cannot be turned. 

“Well.” Liam shifts uncomfortably in his seat and folds his arms across his chest. “See that you don’t, then.” 

Killian twists the wheel and he car peels away. David doesn’t follow it. He can feel the potion thinning in his veins, the visions receding along with the car’s taillights, leaving him standing in the fading forest wondering what on earth could make the prospect of Killian and Emma falling in love strike such fear into a man like Liam Jones. 

~

David came awake slowly, drifting back to consciousness in that boat on the misty sea. When he opened his eyes he found himself lying on Emma’s bed wrapped in some sort of blanket, warm and quite comfortable and with Killian beside him in a chair, a book open in his lap. He shut the book when he sensed David’s gaze on him, set it aside and offered a smile. 

“How are you feeling, mate?” he asked. 

“Good,” said David, then paused to clear the croak from his voice. “Hell of a lot better than I did after the potion you gave me.” 

“Aye, I don’t doubt it.” Killian chuckled. “ I’m pretty much the furthest thing imaginable from an expert on magic. It was all I could do to remember the basic elements of the potion Angharad gave me when I accepted my Guardian duties.” 

“So you—saw what I did? The visions?”

“I saw what you did the first time,” said Killian. “The fae histories and the origin of the Guardians. That knowledge is given to all of us. These latest visions, though, were for you alone.” 

David moved to sit up only to discover that he couldn’t. What he had taken for a blanket turned out, upon closer examination, to be an enormous, glossy green leaf wrapped tightly around him. 

“What the—” he sputtered. 

“Oh, that’s Harriet,” said Killian, blithely, as though leaves the size of blankets were a thing one found oneself wrapped in as a matter of course. “Don’t worry, she’s friendly. Most of the time.” 

Another leaf appeared in front of David’s face, this one far smaller and with tiny green fronds curling at its base. He could swear it was waving at him. 

“Say hello,” Killian encouraged. 

“Um, hello, uh, Harriet,” said David. The leaf gave a nod. “Um, what’s it—er, she doing here?”

“Keeping you safe.” 

“Oh. Er. Sure. Thanks?” 

 The leaf nodded graciously, then curled around his face and patted him on the head. 

“You see?” said Killian. “She’s a sweetheart. Just don’t get on her bad side.” 

“Um. Why?” 

Killian grinned. “Show him, Harriet.” 

The leaf released David’s head and reappeared in front of his face. As he watched, it gave a sudden flex and thorns appeared across its surface, close-set and a good inch long, sharp as daggers. David gulped. “Oh.” 

“Aye. But don’t worry, she likes you. She generally likes the people Emma likes.” 

“Well that’s, um, good.” 

“That it is.” Killian gave Harriet a pat. “Let him up, now, love.” 

Harriet unfurled her leaf and slid it out from under him. David sat up, groaning and flexing his aching muscles. “Is it normal to feel this sore?” he asked. 

“Oh yes. The visions take quite a lot out of you. But here, Emma left you this.” He held out a cup of a dark and steaming liquid. David accepted it warily, and gave it a sniff. It smelled earthy and sweet, like nothing he’d encountered before, and when he chanced a tentative sip it was delicious. 

“What is this?” he asked, taking a larger drink.

“Infusion of the lesser burdock root,” said Killian. 

“Oh, well that doesn’t sound too—” 

“Fermented in wild boar dung.” 

David choked and spat out his mouthful of liquid, wheezing and coughing as Killian laughed and clapped him on the back. “Don’t worry, it’s thoroughly washed before they infuse it,” he said. 

“Yea, that’s not really all that comforting.” 

“Drink it up anyway, mate, it’ll soothe the muscle aches and calm your nerves. Just don’t think too hard about it.” 

David squeezed his eyes shut and gulped down the brew as quickly as he could. Within moments his muscles relaxed and his heart rate slowed. He sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly, then opened his eyes. 

“Better?” inquired Killian. 

“Yeah.” He paused, then added “Physically at least.” 

Killian nodded, and sat back in his chair. “You have questions,” he observed. 

“One or two.” 

“Anything you care to ask, I’ll do my best to answer.” 

David rubbed a hand over his face. There was so much to process in what he’d seen, so much about himself that he had never known. He wondered what Killian knew, wondered how the younger man had managed to identify him as a fellow Guardian. How could he possibly have known? Unless… “How much did you see of… of what I saw today?” he asked.

“I saw none of it, not in visions. I told you, that’s your history and yours alone. But I knew the basic details, about your brother and your father, and the reason your mother took you away from the tribe.” 

“Angharad told you.” 

“Aye.” 

“Because you weren’t supposed to be Emma’s Guardian.” 

Killian shook his head. “No. I wasn’t. Originally it was meant to be my brother Liam.” 

David considered Captain Liam Jones, and his stiff gait. “But he was too badly injured,” he murmured.

“Yes. In the battle that killed your father.” 

David looked up sharply. “But he must have been just a child!” 

“He was ten.” Killian swallowed hard, and when he spoke again his voice was strained. “Too young to fight, but not to young to come under attack. Raiders invaded our house, in search of my father. When Liam told them he had fled, they attacked the both of us. I was barely a year old. Liam shielded me, he wouldn’t let me go no matter what they did to him. Even when they smashed his kneecap beyond repair.” 

David recalled the tiny boy who shared his face, racing towards the creek. It seemed he and Killian had more in common then he’d known. “Why were they after you?” he asked gruffly. “And who’s they?” 

“We don’t know,” said Killian wryly. “They didn’t exactly stick around to effect introductions. We only know that they were humans, enemies of the fae, trying to eliminate a Guardian and his sons.” 

“Your father’s a Guardian?” 

“He was,” Killian spat. “Before he ran away and abandoned us. I don’t know if he’s even alive anymore. I don’t care.” He did care though, David thought. The pain of his father’s betrayal remained sharp, even after so many years. But he said nothing, and Killian continued. “At any rate, Liam was left unable to guard the princess, and so the mantle was passed to you.”

“And when my mother took me away—” 

“It came to me, aye. As the very last of last resorts.” He attempted a laugh. “But it must be said that Angharad was never entirely comfortable with me as Emma’s Guardian. She’s highly gifted with Sight and I think she must have known that there was”—he flushed a bright pink and David bit back a smirk—“the potential for deeper feelings between us. But she had, very literally, no other choice.” 

“Are deeper feelings not allowed? Is that why your brother warned you not to fall in love with Emma?” 

“Ah.” Killian scratched behind his ear. “You saw that, did you? Did you also see—”

“Your and Emma’s first meeting?” David did smirk this time. “Yeah.” 

Killian’s flush deepened. “Aye, she, uh, mentioned she might show that to you.” 

“I’m glad she did, actually,” said David. “It was sweet, really, seeing you nearly swallow your own tongue after one look at her.” 

“I didn’t—” Killian began, then caught David’s sardonic expression. “Well, okay, maybe I did,” he conceded. “That’s not the reason she showed you, though.” 

“It’s because you weren’t supposed to get involved with each other,” said David, just a bit smugly. “And she wanted me to understand why in spite of that, you did. Isn’t that it?”  

“You know, I like you better now that you’re not so bloody dense,” Killian retorted, “but it’s also kind of annoying, you actually seeing the things right in front of your face.” 

“Just answer the question, Jones.” 

“Yes,” said Killian shortly. “You’re right. For a Guardian and his charge to fall in love is expressly forbidden. I could be executed for it.” 

“Executed!” 

Killian shrugged. “It’s happened before.” 

“And yet you don’t seem very worried.” 

Killian leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped. “Those histories you saw, the war against the Black Fairy and the Guardian alliances,” he said, “they happened over four thousand years ago.” 

“Four thousand!” 

 “Indeed. So as you might imagine, a lot has changed since then. The fae population has steadily dwindled while the human one has surged. Magic is no longer widely used or even known, and much of fae history has been wiped from official records. Up to and including the original name of this very building.” 

H.C. Andersen, David thinks. Teller of fairy tales. Because what better way to lessen the fear of something than to turn it into a children’s story? 

 “Meanwhile,” continued Killian, “the Guardians also have been whittled away to almost nothing. My brother out of commission and our father gone. Your father and brother both killed and you taken away. And that’s just in these past twenty years. Of the twelve fae tribes four have retreated entirely from human contact and refuse to have Guardians, and the eight who remain have only twenty-one active Guardians among them. A century ago there were hundreds of us. A millennium ago, thousands.”

David considered this. “But doesn’t that just make it even more reckless for you and Emma to give in to—um—” 

“Our lustful desires?” Killian mocked. 

“Well, er—” 

“Aye, you might well imagine it would,” Killian replied, dropping the mockery with a sigh. “Except that there’s no one left to pass judgement on us. A ruling of execution would have to be proposed and carried by the Fae Council, which hasn’t been convened for centuries. I’m not sure anyone would even know how to convene it if they wanted to. The covenants that we follow are thousands of years old, made in and for a different time. They no longer suit the needs of anyone, fae or human, but of course only the Fae Council has the power to amend them.” 

“Of course,” murmured David, though he found it rather comforting that fae bureaucracy was apparently as useless as the human version. 

“Something has to change,” said Killian, “but no one knows exactly what or how or who is going to change it. So Emma and I decided that we would. Who better than the protector of the tywyll stone and her Guardian to make the decisions that need making? No one has more authority than we do, and we intend to use it. That’s why we’re not afraid anymore to make our relationship known. We’ll face whatever consequences may come and we’ll fight for each other. We’re prepared to do whatever is necessary to build a world where we can be together and be happy.” 

He spoke so calmly and with such assurance, David thought, like there was no doubt in his mind of his feelings or of Emma’s. David thought of Snow—her face as always bright and beautiful and at the forefront of his mind—and a twisty tangle of yearning tightened in his chest. 

“Well, I’m on your side,” he said. “For whatever that’s worth.” 

Killian smiled. “It’s worth quite a lot, mate. For us personally but also because you’re a Guardian. That’s a heritage that can’t be erased; even though you didn’t grow up with it, it’s still yours. Your sword recognised you. You recognised Emma. And Snow, who, by the way, is also a fae princess. You know, just in case you were interested.” His eyes twinkled with mischief as David shot him a sharp look.

“Does—” David cleared his throat. “Does she have a Guardian?” 

“She does. Chap by the name of Lance. Big fellow, many muscles.” 

“I see. But he’s not, er, here?” 

“He’s nearby,” said Killian. “Ready to respond in an instant if he’s called. Guardians don’t actually have to live so close to their charges as Emma and I do, but—well—” 

“You wanted to be near each other.” 

“Aye.” 

David had so many more questions, dozens of them clamouring for his attention, but before he could ask any the door swung open and Emma appeared. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” she said. “Everything all right?” 

“Uh, yeah,” David replied. “I think so.” 

“Good, because I think I know what’s going on here. Everyone’s meeting in the common room in five.” 

~

Despite the chill of the night the common room was warm, lit by a bright and crackling fire. David sat on the wide sofa across from the hearth, with Ruby next to him and Graham on her other side. August lounged in the armchair in the corner and Killian in the one next to the fireplace, while Victor leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Emma stood in front of the fire with Belle hovering at her side, just visible in the orange light of the flames. Snow wasn’t there—she had volunteered to stay back in the forest to guard the women in their tree-branch prison. David wished she hadn’t—there were things he desperately wanted to tell her, though he knew that, as she would say, now was not the time. 

Emma was silent for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. “So as you all now know, I’m the one who has the tywyll stone,” she said finally, and everyone nodded. “It’s been in my family since the beginning, and it was my ancestor Arianrhod who locked the Black Fairy’s magic into the stone in the first place. All my life I’ve been raised knowing that I would be the stone’s protector and I never once questioned that. It was my heritage, and it was decreed by the covenants. I never questioned any of it, until recently.” She cast a glance at Killian, who gave her a smile and an encouraging nod. “I also didn’t question the instinct that told me to leave the stone behind when those women took me,” she continued. “The instinct that told me that I couldn’t allow the stone to fall into their hands. It wasn’t until I got back home this afternoon that it occurred to me to wonder why. Why would my instincts react so dramatically when those women were so easy to defeat? It troubled me, and the most troubling thing was that I couldn’t figure out why it was troubling. But now I know. It’s their timing.” 

“Timing?” said Ruby. “What do you mean?”

“Okay,” Emma replied, “here’s the deal, everything I was Shown in the scrying mirror. There are three of them, a mother and two daughters. The mother, Cora, she’s human. She’s got no magic and her knowledge of it seems limited to what’s contained in the standard scrolls—the versions of the histories that are available in any human library. She wouldn’t have access to any of the actual fae histories, and if she raised her daughters among humans it’s unlikely they would either.” 

“Sorry,” said David. “But what do you mean by the actual fae histories?”

“The fae store our history in trees,” explained Emma. “Like the purple willow whose bark gave you your visions. The scrolls tell the broad story, but they hold none of the details you get from seeing the events unfold yourself.” 

“So—all of you have seen these visions?” 

“We’ve all seen a version of them,” said Graham. “The ones involving our own ancestors. But the location of the tywyll stone needed to remain secret, so for obvious reasons we weren’t shown the part involving the trapping of the magic.” 

“But then why was I shown that?” 

“Guardians are all shown what you saw,” Killian replied. “We are all descended from Cynbel, the warrior who captured the Black Fairy’s wand.” 

“What, all of us?” 

“All of us. Cousin.” Killian smirked at him. “Cynbel’s tale is the origin of all Guardians, and so we have the right to see it.” 

“So all Guardians know who has the ti—er, the stone?” 

“Yes, and part of our vows include protecting the secret of its location with our lives.” 

“Everything was always about keeping the stone a secret,” said Emma. “So that even if someone did figure out a way to release the Black Fairy’s magic, they wouldn’t know where to look for it.” 

“But somehow this Cora and her daughters figured out where to look for it,” said Ruby. 

“So it seems. But the thing is they don’t actually know what they’re looking for. They don’t even seem to know that the magic is stored in a stone. They only know it’s stored somewhere, and that I have it.” 

“So then they can’t possibly know how to release it,” Ruby cried. 

“Or how to control it even if they did,” Graham pointed out. 

“That’s what it looks like,” agreed Emma. 

“But then why?” Ruby held up her hands in frustration. “Why would she move against you when she’s so unprepared?” 

“That’s exactly what was troubling me,” said Emma. “It didn’t seem to make any sense. She’s so completely unable to do what she plans and yet she’s so confident. Why? And why did my instincts tell me to do whatever I had to in order to keep the stone out of her hands?” 

“Well?” Ruby prodded. “Why?” 

Just then there came the sound of footsteps in the corridor. The door swung open and Snow appeared, rushing into the room followed by a young woman with long, dark hair and bloody scratches covering a face that wore a look of deep apprehension. 

Emma stiffened and threw up her hands, magic sparking and crackling at her fingertips. “What is she doing here?” she snapped. 

“She’s—” began Snow, but Killian was already on his feet. 

“Who is she?” he demanded. 

“One of the women from the forest,” said Emma, and before the words were even fully out of her mouth, the room whirled in a blur of motion. August leapt from his chair as his eyes flared red and his fangs extended. Ruby and Graham’s bodies twisted, fur sprouting from their skin and claws from their fingers, faces elongating into snouts lined with sharp and dripping teeth. Killian drew his sword so fast it was a blur to David’s eyes as he swung it at the woman, stopping a hair’s breadth from her neck. Even Victor stood tense and ready, fingering a razor-honed scalpel he’d retrieved from the goddess knew where, as madness sparked in his eyes. 

“Stop it,” Snow cried, whirling around as she tried to defend against everyone at once. “She’s here as a friend.” 

“She tried to kill me!” snarled Emma, and Killian pressed the edge of his sword against the woman’s skin. She gasped and blinked as a small line of blood appeared beneath it. 

“I—I didn’t,” she stuttered. “I did my best to save you.” 

“That’s not what it sounded like from where I was standing,” retorted Emma. “Or from where I’d been flung on the ground, to be more precise.” 

“You don’t know my mother.” The woman’s tone, despite the sword at her throat and the snarling wolves and the mad scientist, the witch and the freaking vampire, was dry and heavy with irony, and David found himself impressed despite himself by her aplomb. “It’s… unwise to act directly against her,” she continued. “But she can be influenced by suggestion.” 

David could see the gears begin to turn behind Emma’s eyes as she regarded the woman with a probing stare.

“Killian,” she said quietly, and with no more instruction than this her Guardian lowered his sword, though he remained, David noticed, tense and alert. 

“Stand down, chaps,” he instructed. 

In a flash August’s eyes were blue again and his teeth a more expected length. Ruby and August shifted back to their usual forms, and Victor—well, he still looked mad, but at least he put his scalpel away. 

Emma was frowning thoughtfully at the woman. “Snow,” she said. “Why did you bring her here?” 

“She’s my kin,” replied Snow. “Look.” 

She pulled back the sleeve of her jacket to reveal the image of a tree brach curling around her wrist. David had seen the branch before, many times, but had always taken it for a tattoo. Now, though, he watched as it began to move, to wave as though caught in a summer’s breeze, and a bird appeared from out of nowhere to perch upon it. The woman pulled up her own sleeve to reveal the same branch and a very similar bird, and when the two women held their wrists together their branches intertwined and the birds began to sing. 

“Llwyth daear,” said Emma. “Earth tribe. I suppose I should have seen that.” 

“You had other things on your mind,” said Snow. “But I saw it right away. Regina is my uncle’s daughter. My uncle who left the tribe when he fell in love with a human woman. We never heard from him again.” 

“He died,” said the woman—Regina—shortly. 

“Oh.” Snow’s fingers reached out to curl around Regina’s. “I’m sorry.” 

Regina smiled. “Thank you.” 

“Well this is a touching reunion,” drawled August. “But it doesn’t explain why you brought her back here.” 

“For the information, of course,” said Emma, fixing Regina with a pointed look. “She’s here to tell us all about her mother. Aren’t you, Regina.” 

Regina nodded. “I am.” 

— 

[dukethomas]

Summary: In a world where Batman never returned and his family scattered, the We Are Robin movement has grown and become the city’s new protectors. Now older, they have a conversation around a kitchen counter.

Written for @duketectivecomics​’ Duke Week, Day Three, We Are Robin! This was actually the first fic finished because I love them so much.

(note: someone please stop me from making a whole au series set here. i’m really about to do it. (i’m lying i already made the series.) also, i realize i’m shit at describing what people look like, so the picture below is the cast of characters, barring the huge, absolutely massive blonde guy. that’s troy.)

(left to right: isabella “izzy” ortiz, troy walker, duke thomas, andre “dre” cipriani, daxton “dax” chill, riko sheridan)

-

When you lead a movement of maybe a hundred-fifty kids, you learn to never get used to silence. 

Tap, tap, tap. 

Duke walks into the kitchen, seeing Riko fiddling with a pencil, tapping it on the marble counter, and staring out through the window above the sink. The sun lowers in the sky, amber light washing over everyone.

The silence is eerie, what with everyone waiting to make the first move. He remembers his first night as a Robin, his first night wearing the red jacket when they seemed to be constantly bickering. 

Years of this changes people. 

He raises his eyebrows and plops down in a chair. “How are y’all doing?” he asks, not quietly, but only just loud enough to cut through the tension. 

Izzy grunts softly, her eyes drooping after a late night. Stakeout, probably. Duke tries to keep track of everything that the Robins do, but it covers a much wider scope than it did when he was sixteen. 

He notes her bloodshot eyes and jokingly wonders to himself if the red in them could be counted as Robin colors. The police have taken people in for less.

“The new recruits are learning fast,” Riko tells him, still tapping the pencil, dark eyes wandering. “There’s one—Carrie Kelley—I think she can be promoted to one of the squads in a few weeks. The others will take time.”

“That’s good,” Duke replies, “but you know that’s not what I meant. How are you guys? Answer me honestly.”

Dre snorts. “Since when have you?” He cocks his head towards the stack of textbooks on the counter, a gleaming Robin pin placed on top. A lock of brown hair falls in his face, the rest loosely pulled into a ponytail not unlike Duke’s own (whereas Izzy and Riko cut theirs short for convenience and personal style, which Duke always finds amusing).

Duke shrugs. “Fair enough. But I feel like we haven’t been talking enough recently. We should go out, have some fun. Relax,” he adds as an afterthought. “We can leave Gotham to someone else for one day. I know Terry can handle my business.”

“We’re running low on grapplers,” interjects Dax, covering a yawn with his hand. “I was planning to stay at the workshop tomorrow and fix the broken ones.”

“Harper can handle it,” Izzy says, glancing over to Duke. He lets a smile creep onto his face as he thinks of Harper and her azure-haired brilliance. She never became a Robin, but she’s somehow always there when they need her. She packs a mean punch underneath her friendly mechanic persona. 

He always got the impression she lost something, when they talk about Robin business in front of her and she gets this wistful look in her eye. But they all lost something, hadn’t they? Years ago, when Batman and his allies skipped town. 

Bruce Wayne died a little after that, in what the papers called a noble sacrifice. Duke remembers Wayne trying to talk to Mister Bloom, talk him out of attacking the whole city. He supposes Wayne was trying to prove something to himself, and obviously, it didn’t work.

Duke kept his mouth shut when his fellow Robins suspected if the events were connected, and they figured it out themselves in due time. 

The city only grew worse after that. And maybe, if they had a Nightwing, a Red Robin, maybe even the tiny newest iteration of Robin, a Black Bat, a Spoiler, a Batman, maybe they could have survived. Maybe they could have thrived.

But they didn’t. So they all had to make do. 

It almost seemed like a blessing when his foster parents were killed in Mister Bloom’s siege on the city—not that any deaths of innocents, no matter how unlikeable, are acceptable, but because Duke got lost in the system, with Leslie Thompkins busy mourning the death of the man who used to be her ward, and he could devote all of his attention to the Robin movement.

“Okay!” Duke says with a grin. “Let’s do it. We need something like this.”

He’s about to start listing off ideas for something they could do tomorrow, when Dax interrupts, quiet and steely. “Do you ever regret doing this?” he asks with a graveness unlike him. “All of this. Because it was one thing when we were in high school and we took on odd jobs, but now we’re—” He swallows uncomfortably. “This is our responsibility. We haven’t been children since we joined. And I wouldn’t trade you guys for the world, and I’m not unhappy with the situation, I just wonder, sometimes. If our lives were different.”

“No,” Riko responds immediately, coals burning in her voice. “We have a purpose. And it’s this. And even if we didn’t, I will never regret helping.”

Duke couldn’t have said it better himself, but he continues it anyways. “We all made a choice to be in this line of work. We chose to help people instead of standing by, and we chose to try to save this hellhole instead of abandoning it. And I think,” he says, “that even though it’s rough sometimes, we get rewarded. Rainbows after the rain. I mean, look at how many Robins are with us. We inspire that kind of hope. So no, I don’t regret it.”

Dax’s face freezes in tightly knit anxiety, and he swallows hard. “Thought you’d say that. That’s who you are, Duke. You and Riko and Dre. You don’t hesitate, you just jump right into it.”

Duke opens his mouth to fire back, that he hesitated once and it cost him his parents, he hesitated again and it cost them Troy Walker, and by the third time he hesitated, there were countless people Mister Bloom killed that could have survived instead, but Izzy beats him to it.

“And what am I?” she teases, her tired eyes twinkling. “Chopped liver?”

And with that, one Izzy Ortiz sparks movement where everyone had stilled. 

“You and I,” Dax declares, after a moment of hesitation, with a weary levity, “are the most important part of this team. Impulse control.”

Izzy hides her laugh in a fist, a habit created in the first year they’d been friends. Duke doesn’t flinch at laughter as much anymore, only certain intonations, but the habits remain. “I’ll show you impulse control,” she mutters. “I’m going to launch myself into the harbor.”

(Despite this, there’s a truth to Dax’s statement. Duke can’t count how many times Izzy has stopped him from walking into a wall after a few all-nighters. Metaphorically and literally.)

“Please don’t,” Duke pleads, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Because then I’m going to be compelled to do it with you. To save you if you drown, of course.

Dre slams his hands down on the table. “Bet!” he announces. “Bet neither of you are willing to do it from sixty feet up.” 

Duke scrambles to his feet as Izzy jolts up in her seat. “Bet!” they both chime at the same time, mock-glaring at each other.

“I’ll be the referee!” Riko blows on a whistle she wears on her nearly all the time now, which is mostly used for training purposes. Sometimes used for nefarious purposes, like being able to declare herself referee. 

Dax stares at them and a fond grin pulls at the side of his face. He sighs. “Okay, you guys have sold me. I’m in. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Duke agrees, nodding. 

He catches Dax’s gaze, then Izzy’s, then Riko’s, then Dre’s. They may be in charge of protecting the city, it may be their purpose and their responsibility, but a thread connects them beyond that. It’s their easy banter and tense shoulders dropping in each other’s presence, in the apartment they share even if they barely see each other, the way they can fight side by side and never have to say a word.

(Years of this changes people, but some things, Duke knows in his bones, will never change.)

((And as it turns out, he and Riko didn’t say everything they didn’t regret about this gig. He still stands by that speech, though, it’s a damn good one.))

-

Read and comment on AO3!

[crqstalite]

"Who did this to you?" + #7 please!!

more dragon age content from me? more likely than i thought.

i think i spoke on it previously in another ask, but reyna’s entire late game character is...kind of a terrible person? not super morally redeemable either. and not at all a fan of the templar order or meredith. like she has her reasons, but are they all justifiable? probably not.

f!handers. late act 3, dragon age II. not at all templar positive. mentions of injuries.

-

There were better ways to spend an evening. Like at home roughhousing with your mabari, or at the Hanged Man getting your coin stolen or stealing others coins. Waiting up for your mage partner was one of the less entertaining ones, but still viable. There was enough wine left in the cellar to make it more fun and knock her out sooner if anything.

That wasn’t the way she chose to spend the spring evening though. No, Reyna Hawke had better things to do. Morally better than getting wasted and mourning everything she’s lost? That was debatable. Her ankle probably shouldn’t have ever been twisted the way it was, no, decidedly no bone was supposed to click the way it was now. There’s a nice knot at the back of her head that’s throbbing like no tomorrow. A clean cut through her shoulder from a sword that was probably on a trajectory to end her then and there if she hadn’t moved in time. Three or four bruises down her spine from falling the wrong way, the wind still feels like it was knocked out of her.

She’s getting sloppy. Reyna hadn’t thought there’d be so many out and about tonight, Meredith’s grip was tightening on Kirkwall since she took power and she’d forgotten to stake out for long enough to make it look more like an accident rather than a pre-planned massacre.

Still, four of them soaked in their own blood this time. One on the way out to meet Andraste and his precious Maker. It was good hunting, just a night she’d need to reflect on in the next week or so.

Or whatever Aveline would have to say. Reflection was for those who had time and people. Not those who had a bone to pick with the current ruling class.

Her probably dislocated finger says otherwise.

Darktown is relatively empty this time of night, the occasional fire crackling along the wall as she continues on her way. No one who is out gives her a second look. These days when she dresses down, she can be mistaken for any other Kirkwaller. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothing. Without the straw yellow hair she’d been toting around for the last six years, she isn’t exactly a beacon anymore to people more than three meters away.

It helped that no one who may have seen her...theatrics, in the back alleys could identify her from their houses. It made her job a little easier.

The torch is still lit at the clinic. Good, that meant Anders was still here and that she wouldn’t have to ascend an absurd amount of stairs to get home.

The heavy door creaks when she pushes it open, alerting the blonde mage to her presence near immediately. Anders jolts from where he’d been sitting, grabbing for his staff, but relaxes once he realizes who it is. And then his brows furrow in concern not a moment later once he actually focuses on her.

The duality.

“Hawke-!”

“It does look bad, I’ll give you that.” Her voice is rougher than she’d expected, closing the door behind her and limping past him over to a chair. A hard landing leads her to groan, though she’s relieved by taking the weight off her ankle, “It...may or may not be as bad as it looks. You pick.”

Three billion thoughts are running through Anders’ head all at once after she says that, and it’s a feat she’d had yet to see. Cogs visibly turning in his head as he sputters trying to answer. She drops her cowl, rolling her jaw when his eyes widen to near dinner plates. Blue flickers on his face and she sighs, “Anders. I’m fine. Alive. Just a little banged up.”

“A little?” He asks, rushing over to her, “You’re bruised black and blue, and you want to say you’re a little banged up?”

She shrugs, then regretting the action as her shoulder clicks, “That is exactly what I’m saying, my dear Anders.”

“Your sarcasm will be the death of me, love.” He takes her head into his hands, tilting it up so that she’s looking directly at him. The real fear in his dark eyes hides nothing, and she wonders for a moment why while he tilts her head left to look at the largest bruise on her jaw. He’d been beside her for years in fight after fight, and he seems only now extremely concerned about mostly minor injuries?

This is probably the most worried she’s seen him since her duel with the Arishok. How odd. It makes her feel a little more loved.

“Who did this to you?” When he speaks again, his voice is quiet and dark. As if he’ll go out and fight them himself, which she doesn’t entirely doubt. That’d be something she’d love to see if she hadn’t already done it herself, and something that’d be great if it didn’t mean Justice was that much closer to snapping and taking control, “I will make them pay.”

Reyna puts a hand over his, raising an eyebrow. The notion is so sweet, yet it’s so misplaced, “That depends, do you want to light a dead body ablaze?”

He pauses, “What?”

“I’ve done it myself. Another bunch of Templars, a few too many this time, but I took care of it.” She smiles, “I got a little sloppy, let them get a few too many hits in. I felt bad they hadn’t been able to defend themselves before. Gave them an inch, they took a mile.”

Anders groans at her admission, and Reyna rolls her eyes. He’s frustrated, she can tell. Maybe because of the Templars, maybe because she’d gone out on her own. One of the two, she never really knew exactly what Anders was thinking at any given time, “Hawke, I thought we talked about this.”

“You’re right, we did. You’re doing what you do best here at the clinic, and I do what I do best when no one’s watching. That’s what I remember that conversation being about, Anders. That and you being insufferable.” She winces and bites down on her tongue, he’s already healing one of the bruises on her cheek. It’s that kind of warm that should be soothing, but is somehow also terribly annoying as her skin is pulled apart and stitched back together, “Think I ran into a few veterans this time. They had a few choice words for me, I had a few for them as well.”

“They’re going to notice the drop in patrols at some point. It isn’t as if this crusade of your’s is sustainable. What then?”

“It isn’t like I’m doing this every night. Just whenever I can get one or two away from the main patrol. At best, they think it’s bandits. As worst, they think it’s a boogeyman.” He starts undoing her top, and she shifts it off to allow him access to the gash down her arm, “It isn’t that bad. Meredith hasn’t even said anything about it yet. Those people are a copper a dozen.”

“The chance of you getting caught goes up by the day, Hawke.” He says quietly, cleaning the wound and placing his hand over it. It’s worse there, Reyna squeezes her eyes shut when it initially burns before giving way to mild throbbing. When she blinks back to looking at him, he wears a disapproving frown, “One of these days someone is going to make the connection. You’re one of the very few hightowners actively loathing the Templar order.”

“As if Elthina has not already seen your face?” She asks. He gives her a pointed look, one she mirrors, “There are more and more of them swarming the clinic during the daytime. Someone in the order knows you’re a mage, and I fear for the day they come and take you.”

“They will never take me.”

“Anders-”

“They will not. And that is final.” He states, his grip on her arm tightening ever so slightly, “They will not take me from you. I can handle them during the daytime, they do not suspect much. Current rumors are that I was sent by Andraste herself.”

“And during the night?” She asks, shifting her arm a bit to look at what he’s done so far. Reyna is still somewhat stunned every time she’s healed by him, the deep cuts leaving little more than just thin scars in their place where his magic touches her, “You don’t come home anymore, Anders.”

“There are nights where I can’t go back to the estate, there are people here who need me.” He answers, brushing his thumb over the scar once he’s done, “I wish I could. I would like nothing more than to.”

“Good for them.” She bites back, running a hand through her hair with her good arm when he pulls back, “I don’t feel safe leaving you here alone with them milling around like feral beasts. If I can’t prowl about the clinic, then I will do so on my own terms.”

“And if you die out there in those back alleys, I would never forgive myself for allowing you to do so, love.”

“You aren’t allowing me to do anything. I chose to because I feel slighted. I am not afraid of them, they are afraid of me. And they will stay that way if I have anything to say about it.”

Silence stretches between them. The unfortunate thing is that one is the unmovable object, the other an unstoppable force. He knows she’s right, thinning out their population only means they can’t be about as far as they usually are -- making it easier for Anders and others to go about their work easier.

She understands his concern, but she doesn’t understand what else she is supposed to do if not take matters into her own hands. She may not have a pretty staff or lightning at her fingertips, but her daggers were not for show.

Another press of his hand, this time against her shoulder. A quick breath before he shoves it back into place  and she bites back a shout, “I only say this out of concern. This isn’t your fight, Hawke.”

“As long as you are by my side, it will always be my fight. And until you are no longer in danger of being taken from me, I will not quit.” She feels as if she is staring into his soul the way his eyes seem so open to her right then and there, “I mean it, Anders. Whatever you need from me, whatever you want from me, I am willing to make that sacrifice.”

Warmth spreads against her shoulder, “I fear you will not say the same thing when the time comes, love.”

“I am not a liar, Anders. They took my sister, they will not take you.”

He presses a kiss to her cheek, “I admire your resolve, Hawke, I have never met a woman like you before.”

“I am aware. I am quite unique.”

His chuckle is dry, and a bit sad, “You are. Whatever comes, let yourself know that I love you more than anything in this desolate world.”

That same declaration echoes in her head for the years that come afterwards.