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holdmytesseract · 11 months

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When a God Loves a Woman

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x Y/N (Pre-Relationship)

Summary: Loki and you get paired up on a mission, much to the god's dismay - but not because he doesn't like you, no... Quite the opposite. He's hopelessy in love with you. How is he supposed to get through this mission?

Warnings: Loki being a cute idiot in love, pining/bit of mutual pining, a few suggestive things, fluff, swear words, thirst? short mention of weapons? short mention of drugs, mentions of a w*nst - blink and you'll miss it

Word Count: 5,5k

a/n: This is a request from my wonderful friend @fictive-sl0th ! 🥰❤️ I hope you are going to like it - and everybody else, of course as well! 😁

Baby Fever Crew: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @eleniblue @loz-3 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @xthatpottahfanx @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @lokiforever @crimson25 @kimanne723 @cakesandtom @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @noideakitten @zombiesnips-blog @dustychinchilla74 @frzntrx @lokisgoodgirl @princess-ofthe-pages @coldnique @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"No. Absolutely not," Loki stated; crossing his arms over his chest. Tony blinked in disbelief. "What does that mean 'No'? Are you kidding me, Laufeyson?" The god squinted his eyes at his 'team colleague'.

"You must be deaf - or stupid, metal man... Perhaps even both. No... I said no." Tony growled; was already annoyed. "Thin ice, Reindeer Games, thin ice." The billionaire took a few threatening steps closer. "Listen. I don't care what you want, princess. You are the one who needs to prove himself to Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D - and basically the whole world. So if you don't want to end up home and get send into a cell by daddy, you should cooperate now." Loki's jaw clenched; knowing that Tony was unfortunately right. "I'm calling the shots at this mission - which needs to be a success, and if I'm telling you to team up with Y/L/N, then you're going to fucking do it. Are we clear?"

The god was positively fuming with anger - and despair (which Tony didn't notice). "Yes," he hissed. If looks could kill...

It's not that Loki didn't want to team up with you. In fact, he wanted nothing more in his life - and exactly that was the problem. About a year had passed now since he'd been sentenced to prove himself worthy and make up for the chaos he had caused. He became an Avenger - no matter if he liked it or not. It was his only chance to escape the dungeons on Asgard.

It had been a bitter pill for the god to swallow; without a doubt.

Earning the team's trust wasn't easy. Everybody despised him; was suspicious - except you. From the first day he arrived at the Avengers compound, you tried your best to give him a warm welcome. You were nice, kind and sweet. At first, Loki didn't like this at all; thought it was just a fake show you put on. A little game you played or something. After all, why should you have mercy? Why would you accept him? It simply couldn't be.

So, Loki pushed you aside - several times; cold-shouldered you. But you stayed stubborn and continued to treat him friendly - like he deserved and didn't let yourself get shoved away by the god for long. It took a lot of time (and energy), but at some point Loki realised that your intentions were pure. You really meant it. He realised, that you gave him something what nobody else did... A second chance. And from then on, he let you in. Step by step, of course, and slow, but he did.

He talked more to you, spent more time with you, trained together with you - and at some point it came how it had to come... Loki fell in love. Hard. Something he wasn't willing to admit, of course. Norns, he'd rather die than admitting that he fell in love with a Midgardian woman. He also didn't want a single soul to get a whiff of this, so his mission was to keep it a secret - no matter what it took.

The problem was, that preserving this secret turned out to be more difficult than Loki thought. It wasn't easy for him to keep his cool around you; given the fact that he didn't feel this kind of love for ages. By Odin's beard, he felt like a lovestoned teenager! Therefore, he tried to avoid being too close to you - not always successfully, though...

"Good boy."

Tony's words brought Loki back down to earth; out of his head. He clenched his jaw. The anger flooding through his veins was back. Full force - but nevertheless, he tried to control his temper and keeping his mouth shut.

"Why don't you like to be in a team with Y/N anyway? I thought you two get along quite well - or did I misinterpret the situation? Do you have a problem with her?" Tony asked suspiciously. Loki blinked. "No, I-" Before he could say something he'd regret later, the warning bells in his head started to ring at a deafening volume; causing his brain to switch into defence mode immediately.

"I mean yes. Yes. I don't like her. She's annoying me."

The billionaire frowned; crossing his arms over his chest. "You're confusing me, Reindeer Games. No, then yes. Geez, you're worse than a diva. Do you have a problem now with Y/N, or not?" Loki was a hairsbreadth away from grabbing Tony by the lapels of his shirt and throwing him against the nearby wall of the conference room.

"Yes," the god hissed. "I can't stand her." To say those words hurt him deeply; his heart wincing in pain - but for Loki, there was no other way.

"Well..." For a moment, Tony's expression was understanding and almost soft - but then he shrugged his shoulders. "Your problem. The teams are set. I don't care. Make it work." With those words and another shrug, the billionaire turned on his heels, walked away, "See you tomorrow, princess." and left the room.

Loki's eyes followed him, before he squeezed them shut; shaking his head. A sigh left his lips. "How foolish..." He mumbled. "How foolish of me to think Stark would cooperate." Running a hand through his raven curls, he returned to his room. Tomorrow was going to be a hard day for him...

The next day arrived way too quickly - and Loki had slept way too less and spent the whole day thinking about that damn mission, causing him to be the first to stand by the Quinjet; waiting for his 'team mates'. It was an awkward situation. Usually, he was never the first - except today.

Tony arrived only ten minutes later; a shit eating grin spreading over his whole face as he saw Loki. "Well, well... Eager, are we, Reindeer Games?" Loki just rolled his eyes; certainly didn't have the nerves for the billionaire's stupid little games.

"Mind your own business, Stark."

Tony sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Oooh and we're already in diva mode?" The god clenched his jaw; was about to say something not exactly nice to the billionaire, when a booming voice cut through the air. "Ahhh, brother!" It was Thor, of course.

The god walked over to Loki and Tony with a broad smile on his face. "Finally, the time has come! We're on a mission again together!" He said happily, giving Loki a harsh slap on the shoulder. Loki coughed, "Yes, brother, I am thrilled." and glared at Thor - who didn't even notice his younger sibling's discomfort.

"Ah! Don't fret, brother!" Loki rolled his eyes subtly; already questioning his life choices. But when he crossed his arms over his armour clad chest and slightly shook his head, the god's eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of somebody approaching the team. It was Natasha - and you. Loki's gaze immediately got stuck on you - against his will; eyes widening. "This is going to be..." Thor's words faded as Loki's mouth fell agape and suddenly the world seemed to turn in slow motion around him.

You walked casually beside the Widow; your Y/H/C untamed hair flying in the wind. Unlike Natasha, you wore a white and black body suit. Several pockets were attached to it. For comms, weapons and other gear. It was tactical and convenient, but also form-fitting and especially tight. It showed off your curves to perfection - and by the holy roots of Yggdrasil... You looked stunningly sexy. Not that Loki didn't see you before in your mission gear - but you had never worn something like that before.

"Norns, give me strength..." Loki whispered, before he was able to prevent it; attracting Thor's attention. "What did you just say, brother?" "Nothing!" Loki almost shouted in slight panic, before clearing his throat. Get a hold of yourself, Laufeyson!

"I mean... Nothing. I didn't say a word."

What the god didn't think of, was that his eyes were still locked on the beautiful woman only a few meters away from him - and Thor noticed; raised an suspicious eyebrow, as he followed Loki's gaze. "Um, brother, you're staring."

Fuck.

Loki's eyes widened even more; cheeks turning pink as he quickly pulled his gaze off you. "No, I'm not! You must be blind, brother! Or hallucinating!"

Thor wasn't stupid, though. He knew exactly what he saw - and Loki's reaction only proved his assumption to be right. The god said nothing, only smiled, before he went to greet his fellow team mates.

"Ah, greetings, Lady Romanoff and Lady Y/N!" Natasha gave him a smile and a nod. "Hey Thunderboy." You smiled and waved at him. "Hi Thor!" While the Black Widow went to join Tony already on the Quinjet, you walked up to the Asgardian princes - which caused Loki to get slightly nervous.

"Is that new a new armour I see on you, Lady Y/N?" You giggled; nodding. "It is. Nat told me to try something new and I needed anyway something more... functional, so... Do you like it?" You turned in a circle; showing off your new outfit - much to Loki's dismay. He felt his breath hitching in his throat; his chest seemingly growing tighter - just like the space within the front of his leather trousers.

By Odin's beard... How am I supposed to survive this mission?

"It suits you very well, Lady Y/N!" "Thanks, Thor." Then you turned to Loki. "How do you like it, Mischief?"

Like it? LIKE IT?! I love it. It makes me want to pin you against the wall of the Quinjet and ravish you right then and there.

"I agree with my brother."

"Thanks! Now, let's go, boys. I bet Tony's waiting already for us and we don't want to make our diva angry, do we?" You prompted; already entering the Quinjet - which caused the fabric of your suit to bend and stretch around certain body parts even more.

Shit...

You sat alone in a corner of the Quinjet; checking your weapons and mentally preparing yourself for the task ahead, since Tony had announced that you'd arrive soon. Then you heard steps approaching you. Familiar steps. You didn't even have to look up to check who it was. You knew.

"What's up, Nat?"

Your best friend sat down beside you. From the corner of your eye, you could see that she had already changed. A beautiful black, long-sleeved dress was hiding her catsuit underneath. She looked stunning - as always.

"He's into you."

You frowned immediately; were taken aback by the Widow's words. Nat was definitely not somebody who beat about the bush...

You looked up to face her; seeing her lips curled upwards in a smirk.

"W-What, I- Who?"

"Laufeyson." Natasha spoke out the god's name without even blinking; kind of shocking you.

"Whaaat?" You laughed; shaking your head. "No fucking way. I mean, yes, he probably likes my body - like the handsome naughty little shit he is, but that doesn't mean he likes me. Loki has a lot of women and men..." Natasha raised an accusing eyebrow. "Babes, no... Sorry to disappoint you, but Loki didn't have somebody in months."

You frowned. "How do you know that?" Your best friend shrugged her shoulders. "Bruce's apartment is across his and trust me, babe... I hear if he's giving somebody a really good time, 'cause fucking hell, he apparently does." You almost choked on your own spit by her words. "Nat! You cheeky minx!" Again you got just a shrug, accompanied by a grin.

"Okay, let's say you're right... That doesn't mean he's into me." The Russian beauty rolled her eyes. "Y/N... Sorry to say that, but... Are you blind? I don't mean what happened earlier. Sure, his eyes almost popped out of his head, seeing you like this - but that was just another proof." Now you were the one raising both your eyebrows.

"Another proof? What is that supposed to mean now?" Your best friend giggled; shaking her head. "You really didn't notice." "Notice what?" You asked almost desperately know. "The way he's looking at you? How his mood always seems to lift when you're in the room? He smiles - as soon as you're around him. The way he opens up to you? How kind he is to you?" You blinked; staring at your best friend.

"Uhhh, no? I, um, no..." "You should pay a bit more attention then," Nat said; winking. You were still a bit stunned and overwhelmed by those 'news'. That was never your intention. "I... I didn't mean to... I was just trying to be kind. I always knew there's more in Loki than just the bad guy everybody thinks he is. All I wanted was to give him what he deserves... A second chance and a way to proof everybody wrong."

The Widow smiled; placing a hand on your shoulder. "Well... It seems like you were successful in bringing out this other side of him. There is more. You were right about that. But it also seems like you tickled something else awake inside of him... Feelings." "Feelings?" "Feelings. That man is head over heels for you." You bit your lip. That wasn't what I wanted... "Are you sure?" Natasha stood up again, "To 100 per cent." and walked away with a smile; leaving you and your thoughts alone.

You sighed; leaning back against the wall. Your head hitting the metal with a soft thud. You couldn't help but to think about what Natasha said. He's into you. Perhaps it was true and your best friend right, but... What were you feeling? Was his love... requited?

You swallowed. Sure, he was the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes upon, with his long, raven curls, chiselled face and trained body. You loved his wit, how utterly charming he could be, how eloquent he was, how well-read, smart and his other-worldly humour. You liked to spent time with him and talk to him. You'd even go as far and say you were some kind of friends, but love? Not yet.

But when you closed your eyes and thought of Loki, you could easily picture a future with him as a couple - and who knew... Perhaps it was going to happen.

Okay, maybe you had a tiny crush on him.

"Alright. Everybody knows what to do. Let's get those documents, so we can finally make sure that this asshole gets behind bars," Tony spoke and everyone nodded.

The mission was... Well, you wouldn't exactly say easy, but with a good team perfectly manageable. The Avengers got the assignment to help the police to get one of the biggest drug dealers of America - and literally the whole world finally behind bars. Bernardi had always managed to slip the F.B.I through their fingers the past years. Now it had to end - and it was going to.

Today was a big gala in New Haven, Connecticut - the best chance to get Bernardi. But to finally convict him, important documents of the next big drug deal were needed - and they laid safely in a safe in his security monitored and secured suite in the big building, where also the gala took place.

The plan? Tony was going to hack the security camera systems, to make you and Loki - who were going to sneak through the ventilation shafts of the building and actually 'steal' the documents. Nat was going to attend the gala with Thor as her backup and caused distraction - if needed. This time, it was no 'going like a bull at a gate' task. It was no big fight or war. It was some kind of movie like spy mission - and you were hyped.

You didn't understand first, why Tony hadn't sent you and Nat to get the documents, but then you realised that Loki and Thor probably weren't the best duo to attend the gala together. Their cover would probably blow up faster than Tony's patience...

"Y/N, are you coming?" The soft, low timbre of Loki urged to your ears; causing you to blink and snap out of your thoughts. "On my way." You checked if you had everything you needed, then joined your team mate. "Ready, partner?" Loki smiled; gesturing for you to walk down the ramp of the Quinjet. "Lead the way, milady."

Tony had given you the exact positions, coordinates and maps. Loki 'was just your helper' - like the billionaire put it and 'had to follow your orders'.

You sneaked around the big building at the dead of night; looking for the exit of the ventilation shafts. You were quick to find the exact one Tony told you to find and quietly removed the grid, while Loki's eyes scanned the area for any 'intruders'.

"Let's go." You grabbed Loki's attention with your words; nodding towards the ventilation shaft. Just when you were about to climb inside, Loki stopped you. "Y/N, wait! I, uh, I think I should go first." You turned to face him; looking a bit confused. "Why? That wouldn't make sense, Mischief. I have the maps. I know where to go. That's why I..." You climbed inside the ventilation shaft. "... go first. Now come!" Unbeknownst to you, squeezed Loki his eyes shut; face scrunching. "Loki!" "Coming!"

He sighed, then followed you. It was dark inside, of course, but you had your torch and Loki, well, his seidr. Nevertheless, the light source in addition with his position gave Loki the perfect view of your ass; sending shivers down the god's spine. Exactly what he wanted to prevent. Sure, he enjoyed the view, but it was also torturous. You were close and yet so far. "Norns... Can this evening get any worse?" He mumbled underneath his breath, while crawling behind you. "What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing!"

After crawling through the tight, dark space and crossing endless corners for what felt like eternity, you finally announced that you and Loki had reached the destination - the tenth floor of the building.

"Oh!" You abruptly stopped; causing Loki to almost bump head first in your bottom - head first. "What?" "I think we made it. According to Tony's plans, this must be the exit we have to take. The tenth floor." "Let us do that then. My knees hurt." You giggled; working on getting the hatchway open. "Not used to kneel a lot, are we?" "Sounds like you are." Loki answered dryly, without even blinking - and your jaw almost dropped. A blush creeping up your cheeks. He just couldn't help himself. You had given him the perfect opportunity.

"No! I-I mean... I do a lot of work on missions which affords... Kneeling and crawling." The god nodded, but gave you a cheeky smile. "Sure, Y/N. I do kneel from time to time, too."

Gods... You felt the heat in your cheeks increasing, so you busied yourself even more with the hatchway - and to your sheer relief it clicked open mere seconds later. Carefully, you peeked out; head first, looking for any signs of security guards. "Not a single soul to be seen. The coast is clear." You sat up; ready to jump, when your partner stopped you for the second time. "Allow me to go first this time." "Alright." Loki jumped and you followed; the hatchway falling close behind you.

The hallway you had landed in was big with white, clean walls and a black tiled floor. It reminded you of a hotel, but also didn't look like such at all.

"Where to now, milady?" Loki whispered; just in case. "We have to find Bernardi's room," you answered in a hushed voice; pointing down the hallway. "This way." The god nodded; following close behind. So, you sneaked down the hallways; crossing each corner carefully. Another look on the map told you that you weren't far from your destination, when you suddenly heard voices - and they came from behind you.

"Securityguards!" You whisper-yelled at Loki, who looked surprisingly just as panicky as you did. Well, after all you were in a hallway... Not exactly many opportunities to hide there. Loki was about to just teleport you somewhere else, but before he could make use of his magic, you had reacted faster and literally shoved him inside a little broom closet you had spotted mere seconds ago. With one hand clasped over his mouth, the other gripping the lapels of his leather coat tightly and your back stemmed against the door, you hid away from the nearing threat. It caught Loki completely off-guard of course, but he found himself once more enjoying the situation. Your touch. The roughness of it. He liked it.

Once you were sure he wouldn't make a single sound, you let go of him. "Sorry. I just had to make sure that-" "I know," he interrupted you, nodding. You nodded back at him; staying quiet. You had to wait until the security men passed. Unfortunately, though, the broom closet was everything but spacious. Quite the opposite... tiny. And with cleaning supplies all around the two of you, it was a really tight fit. So tight, that body contact was inevitable. Your chest almost touched his. You were so close, you could feel his minty breath on your face. Loki's chiselled bone structure looked even more handsome from this point of view - and dear god, had he always smelled that good? Like a mix out of leather, blood oranges and charred wood? You couldn't explain why, but it smelt so comfortable to you. So rich and musky, yet sweet.

You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath. Focus, Y/N, focus.

Unbeknownst to you, Loki had the exact same problem; struggling even harder. His hands almost trembled from holding back from touching you. He would've loved to just kiss you right here and now; your scent intoxicating him. But he couldn't, and he knew that.

"I think we're good to go," you breathed out then; slowly lurking through the crack of the door. "Come."

Loki had noticed the slight tremble in your voice - and it sparked something inside him... Hope. Perhaps he had a chance to win your heart. A chance he never thought he had. And maybe, just maybe he shouldn't see this mission as a burden, but as the first shot he could shoot.

Loki knew that women liked to be wooed. So, he decided to try to impress you. After all, he had conquered already a lot of hearts. He knew how it worked. But you... You were different. You had conquered his heart first - and you didn't even know it.

Wordlessly, the god followed you, until you had reached Bernardi's room. A complicated lock adorned the door. Easy access? No chance. "Alright," you stated; switching on your communication device. "Tony. We're standing in front of the room. Pick the lock." The billionaire answered immediately. "Consider it done, Y/N." "Perfect."

Tony's 'consider it done' took longer than you anticipated... Almost fifteen minutes had ticked by and the electric lock still hadn't moved an inch.

"Hey Tony, what's taking so long?" "It's more complicated than I thought. Give me another minute."

And even another minute wasn't enough. So slowly, Loki grew impatient. After all was the risk very high of getting caught by security guards any momenr. Rolling his eyes, he stepped over to the door and placed his hand on the lock. "Loki? What are you doing?" You asked, eyes widening. "Unlocking this damn lock." You blinked. "And, uh, how?" The god gave you a smirk; "Seidr, darling." winking.

Not even a second after he said that, a green cloud enveloped the lock - and it clicked open. Your jaw dropped. "Woah... That's... That's pretty cool."

Step one of impressing Y/N: Done.

"Tony, we got it." "Yes, I can see that... How?!" You smiled; following Loki inside the room. "Mischief." You could practically hear how Tony rolled his eyes at your answer.

After tiptoeing through the big, spacious room and 'stealing' the documents like professionals; you and your partner left again, as if nothing happened. Loki even managed to fix the lock with his magic.

"Let's get out of here, shall we?" You nodded; checking your watch. "We should, yes. The 10 o'clock patrol will pass this hallway in exact... ten minutes. Either we hurry, or tell Thor and Nat to distract them." "I know I have no say in this mission, but I would recommend option two, Y/N. Better safe than- uh... How's this Midgardian saying going again?" You giggled - music to Loki's ears. "Better be safe than sorry." "That's it, yes. Thank you." "I guess you're right... Nat, can you hear me?" "Loud and clear, babes." "Perfect. Can you and Thor distract the 10 o'clock patrol up here? We won't make it in time." "Sure thing!"

Well, unfortunately, it turned out they couldn't...

Just as the two of you rounded the corner into the hallway of the ventilation shaft, rounded a group of five security guards the other corner. You and Loki stopped immediately in your track; standing like frozen to the ground. "Well... Now we have a problem." The guards noticed you, of course, immediately. One of them gave you an angry look. "Indeed we have," the bulky man snarled; switching on his walkie-talkie. "We have intruders on the tenth floor. Most likely burglars; calling for back-up." "Understood, Sir. Back-up is on the way."

Now you were really fucked.

You sighed; cracking your neck and prepared to fight. "Guess we'll have to-" That was the moment Loki had waited for. The ultimate chance to impress you. His hand on your arm interrupted you; pulling you gently behind himself. "Stay behind me, darling. I am going to take care of this little... issue." Loki stepped slowly forwards - like a wolf stalking its prey; read to fight, when suddenly something caught his attention... A small loudspeaker box hanging high up in the corner where both hallways met.

Smiling mischievously; he snapped his fingers. Let's put on a little show for the lady.

The security guards didn't know what was coming their way. Especially not as 'Holding Out for a Hero' by Bonnie Tyler started to echo through the empty hallways. And before any of them could react, Loki had already started his attack. Unlucky for the men, they were just as surprised and kind of shocked how you were. The god moved gracefully; dodging here a kick and there a punch. The security guards didn't stand a single chance. Not even the back-up - and by the end of the song, Loki had knocked out every single man who had stood in his way.

You just stood there; mouth agape and not quite knowing what to do or think. Loki though, had a victorious, smug and self-confident smirk on his face. Running a hand smoothly through his black curls, he leaned casually against the wall. "There we go. They won't bother us anymore."

Loki didn't quite know what he anticipated of your reaction. A nervous smile perhaps. Reddened cheeks or a impressed facial expression - but he certainly didn't anticipated what came his way... "Umm... Thank you? But I could've taken care of them as well. I know, uh, how to fight."

The god had a hard time hiding the shock on his face. And the embarrassment, which followed only a few seconds later. She didn't like it. She thinks I'm stupid. I made a fool out of myself. He face-palmed himself internally.

Swallowing nervously and clearing his throat, Loki stepped away from the wall again; trying to somehow 'save' this situation. "Sure, I... I know that, of course, Y/N. I just... wanted to be... nice." "Well, I appreciate it. Thanks." Before an awkward silence could settle between you and him; the god cleared his throat once more. "We, um, we should leave." You nodded, "We should, yes." and watched him turn on his heels; quickly walking away.

Therefore, Loki couldn't see how a dazzling smile spread across your face. Whatever it was what he just did - or tried to do... It was very sweet of him.

The rest of the mission went smoothly. You and Loki made it safely and uncaught out of the building.

When you reached the Quinjet, Natasha stood on the ramp, already changed in her black bodysuit; grinning. She said not a single word as you and Loki passed her by, just kept grinning. You gave your best friend a confused look; mouthing: "What?" All she did was winking, before she followed you as the ramp closed shut behind the three of you.

After you had handed Tony the documents and the Quinjet was in the air again; heading towards New York, you decided to seek out the Widow.

"What was that grinning about, huh?" You gently poked her side to get your best friend's attention. She turned to face you; smiling again. "Oh, nothing. Just Loki fighting off thirty guys alone," Nat said with a wink. "And this got you smiling, because...?" You looked expectantly at her, not quite getting what she was insisting.

"Gods, Y/N/N... You truly are blind," Nat stated; shaking her head and crossed her arms over her chest, before she walked towards the metallic door. "He did that in order to impress and most likely to protect you. That man is in love with you. Open up your eyes, babes."

The Quinjet landed quite late at night on the compound. Only a few lights were on; signalling that most of the other Avengers were already asleep.

"Alright, guys. See tomorrow," you bid your goodbye to your fellow teammates. After hugging Natasha, you turned to Loki. "Good night, Mischief." The god gave you a soft smile. "Good night." Then you turned and walked away; following Nat and Tony.

While Loki couldn't help himself, but to stare after you with mixed feelings about the last few hours coiling within his stomach, Thor came to stand beside him.

"You are staring again, brother." He stated simply; smiling. "I'm not-" Loki wanted to immediately reject Thor, but the God of Thunder spoke faster. "Do not try to deny it, Loki. I saw everything. You tried to impress Lady Y/N with fighting off those men." Loki's eyes widened at Thor's words - proofing the god to be right. "You... saw that?" "Yes, brother. We all did."

Loki squeezed his eyes shut. The cameras.

He couldn't control his body longer; a blush creeping up his cheeks. Thor laughed heartily; clapping him on the shoulder. "No need to be ashamed, brother. I am truly happy you found love - and Lady Y/N is a great woman, if I might say so."

Loki grumbled, but knew very well that he had lost this game. "I don't think Y/N feels the same, brother. I made a fool out of myself. I will never win her heart."

Thor wrapped his arm around Loki's shoulder, shaking his head. "No, you did not make a fool out of yourself. I tried to impress Jane a lot of times and failed." "Yes, because you're an oafish ape. I'm not," Loki mumbled under his breath; inaudible for Thor. "Don't you give up. One day, Lady Y/N will be yours."

After the kind of awkward conversation with his brother, Loki headed straight to his little apartment in the tower. He considered to go to bed straight away, in order to escape the hold you had on him, but he also was aware that his mind wouldn't switch itself off so easily. So, instead to forget you, he decided to fully indulge in his thoughts, heartache and fantasies, and took a very long shower; whimpering your name over and over again in his throes of pleasure at the imagination of you in that damn body suit.

Now the god was standing naked in front of the sink; staring at himself in the mirror. His damp raven curls falling loosely over his shoulders; pecs still glistening with water, causing a few single water droplets to drip from his chest hair.

Loki took a deep breath; shaking his head. "I'm fool... I'm such a fool..." With one simple snap of his fingers, he was perfectly dry. He sighed. "... and hopelessly in love."

After slipping into a fresh pair of boxershorts, he went to bed; laying awake for seconds. Minutes. Hours? Just like he anticipated. The god stared at the dark ceiling above him, arms crossed behind his neck; thinking. Until suddenly his mobile vibrated for a second; announcing that he just received a message. Frowning, Loki turned to reach for his phone on the bedside table and unlocked it - only for his eyes to widen. You... It was a message from you. Quickly, he entered the chat to read it.

Hey, Mischief. Just wanted to say thank you again for fighting off the bad guys. Very cute. Thanks.

Loki's whole face lit up. Cute? He was smiling so bright, like he had probably never did in his life before. She thinks I'm cute? His heart skipped a joyful beat.

Perhaps was his brother right... Perhaps hope wasn't lost yet and one day... One day you will be his.

#the baby fever au #pre relationship #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader

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rookthorne · 1 year

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐞

It was inherently a dangerous way to live the life of a Nomad Dragon Rider — an outcast. And those very dangers would be what would tear you apart, and what would separate you from the one you trusted, the one you loved.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☽☾ Dragon Rider!Bucky Barnes x Dragon Rider!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ☽☾ 1.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ☽☾ Angst, whump, gore, established relationship, cliffhanger (because I am cruel)

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ☽☾ I am back in my whump era, chaos kittens, and I am not sorry.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ☽☾ Akkadian Empire by Audiomachine ☽☾ Guardians At the Gate by Audiomachine ☽☾ Lachrimae by Audiomachine

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ☽☾ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟰 — Fantasy AU — Masterlist ☽☾ @allcapsbingo 𝗜𝟯 — Whump — Masterlist ☽☾ @anyfandomaubingo 𝗡𝟯 — Dragon AU — Masterlist ☽☾ @anyfandomdarkbingo 𝗚𝟮 — Unhappy Ending — Masterlist

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The life of a wanderer was dangerous – full of tumultuous battles for territory, for blood lust, and for the right to call yourself a Legend.

It was no different that night. Patrolling the border of your territory while the wings of the powerful beast you rode beat the night air in a steady rhythm; the gold and ivory scales shining brightly under the luminant full moon.

Your second, a man that you had come to trust with your life, flew behind you, a formation that displayed you as the leader. Bucky followed you, sitting just off your flank to your right, atop his shadowed hell flyer – the symphonies of beating wings and heavy breaths filling the silence and eerie stillness of the night air.

There was a slight, almost indistinguishable movement amongst the cliff face ahead, and you hauled your dragon to a stop, the beast complying through the invisible bond ensnaring you together; making you as one. “Movement,” you said simply, narrowing your eyes as you scanned the rocks for another sign.

Bucky fell in beside you, his left hand moving to the many weapons he had saddled on his mount. “I see it,” he replied lowly. “Move in? Or should we get out of here?”

“No…” The movement happened again, and your dragon huffed, a snarl lingering on her sharp, angular mouth. “Easy, Sig–Buck, we need to-”

You never managed to finish your command.

Flame and ice converged over your path, and Sig started, a loud roar echoing off the rocks, and she swerved to miss a barrage of flying boulders. Bucky’s yell of fury sounded amongst the chaos, and you watched his dragon scrabble against the cliff face, a twisted, demented snarl of anger to show rows and rows of sharp teeth.

“Move!” you shouted at him, gripping Sig’s saddle and bowing low against her neck. “Go, get out of there!” Sig bellowed at the approaching darkened shapes in the sky, and for a single, split second, you thought it was done, your life was finished as you knew it. “Hel, no, no! Sig, fly!”

Wings beat and Sig’s claws thrashed through the air as she whipped around, dodging more boulders.

The attack only worsened – flashes of flame and ice continued to clash and spread over the rocks and the sea below, and Bucky with his hell flyer had vanished and was nowhere to be seen. Your heart seized amongst the chaos, the thought of him falling to his demise in the sea below froze you to your core.

“Bucky! James! Where are you?” you screamed. “Buck! Please, where–?”

A loud roar echoed above you and you braced for an impact you never saw coming, only, nothing happened.

Instead, an almighty crash of scales and leather and metal shook the world with the force of the collision, and you watched, horrorstruck, as Bucky and his dragon collided full force into an approaching attacker. The navy and crimson of the attacker’s dragon blurred and shifted as it was knocked off balance and out of the air to plummet down to the sea below.

The shadowy form of Bucky’s dragon falling right behind them.

Cursing to high Hel, you cried out in shock – a call of grief that even made the attackers pause in their attacks.

Your feet found the stirrup switch and you pulled the reins. Sig followed your command and swiftly turned in the air, her wings beating swiftly as she roared loudly from the grief flowing between the bond. “Dive,” you barked, squeezing your knees, and Sig did so – folding her ivory wings and streamlining her ginormous form.

Wind whipped through your hair and your armour, but you still did not let up. No matter how fast Sig dived, it was not fast enough – not quick enough to stop Bucky from plummeting down to the raging ocean.

You forced a feeling of calm through the bond, and leant even closer to Sig’s neck, one hand on the reins, the other gripping the saddle. “Breathe,” you called through the bond, unable to open your mouth. “Swim.”

The feeling of Sig’s chest expanding under your knees grounded you, and you braced for impact. Sea salt stung your eyes as you neared and neared, and you watched Bucky land against the rocks, his unconscious form slipping into the sea, and his dragon caused a craterous splash of water around them both.

Ice enveloped your whole body as you breached the surface of the raging sea, the force of the impact burning your skin. Frantically, you searched for the darkened form of Bucky’s dragon, for the sight of Bucky’s limp body. A cloud of darkness shrouded something from view, and it took all of your will to not scream underwater – it was Bucky, a cloud of blood around his floating body.

“Go!” you pushed through the bond. Sig turned and rushed through the water to James, her tail pushing her faster and faster until her giant clawed foot wrapped around his middle, and pulled.

Sig’s head breached the raging waves and she propelled herself onto land, placing James on the rocks. The sight stole what air you had left in your lungs, and you fell off her back and onto your knees with a scream of grief, but before you could reach for your saddlebag, Sig turned and dived once more into the sea.

Bucky’s left arm… it was gone – torn and bloody rags left in its wake.

The rocks were cold beneath your knees, and you sobbed while reaching for his unconscious body, desperate to feel him. Your hands met his chest and you felt it rise and fall shallowly. “Bucky! Please, please wake up!”

A loud splash and a grunting bellow sounded behind you, followed by a solid thud of a heavy, scaly body landing on the rocks – Bucky’s dragon. You turned and saw the black mass of scales unmoving, but his chest was rising and falling at a much higher rate than his companion.

“Sig, here,” you rushed, gesturing for her to move closer. The dragon complied while watching her mate lay motionless, and you dug through the saddlebag for your healer’s kit. “Buck, do not die on me,” you sobbed, groping for a potion vial. A small noise of victory pulled from your throat when you felt cold glass on your fingers, and you latched onto the vial, pulling it free. “I have to do this, I’m sorry.”

You forced Bucky’s mouth open and poured the potion down his throat, just as a white and blue dragon landed a stride away, mouth open and teeth bared. “Hands off,” a voice yelled, and you looked up to find a loaded crossbow aimed right between your eyes. “Back away.”

“Fuck you,” you spat venomously. “Like Hel will I back off!” your hands, now shaking from adrenaline, flew to Bucky’s arm and you tore a strip of the bloody fabric off with a grunt. “Who do you think you are!”

The crimson fabric in your hands stained your palms, but you continued to act swiftly – a tourniquet would stop him from bleeding out, you prayed, hoped.

Sig suddenly roared behind you, and you whipped around to watch her fall to the rocky outcrop, unconscious, with a blood red dragon ridden by a masked woman looming over her limp body. Pure panic flooded you. You were outnumbered – with both Sig, and Bucky’s dragon down, you couldn’t fight them off.

“What do you–” A loud splash cut you off, and another dragon rose from the sea. The same one that Bucky had collided with.

The last thing you saw before the world faded to black, was that dragon stepping closer and a blond man dismounting, his glare stony and face set as he aimed a crossbow at your thigh, and fired.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes whump #alternate juneiverse 2023 #rookthorne's works #Lachrymose

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masterofdemise · 2 years

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Pluto Headcanon Lore Dump

I felt a sudden urge to share my headcanon of Pluto’s lore. I actually have different variations of it across different AUs and sometimes they don’t even follow this but it’s pretty consistent through most of them. I’ll cover both his backstory and my thoughts about what he would be like Post-Fury if he had a redemption arc. Be warned, it’s long (I typed this at almost 2am in the morning) . I’ll fix this up for a future chapter of Metal Record eventually because there is a lot more.

(Note: Most of this will be copy and pasted from my private twitter ramble so it might be a bit unorganized)

In my canon, Pluto doesn't have the greatest childhood and even though Pluto’s parents were very loving and supportive, they died when Pluto was like 12, leaving him without much of a support system and not so great family members. Pluto was left with the entirety of the Hades estate and that made his uncle(who helped in orchestrating his parent's death) extra angry and he tried to manipulate Pluto as a result. Pluto didn't take this well and got rid of him after he found out the truth. At this point, all his closest family is gone. His parents and grandparents are dead and his uncle closest to the Hades plot is gone (other ones are still part of the cult but they are more so followers since they are on his mother's side). He has a lot of pressure to not only maintain the cult and lead it, but also many other things and he's only a young kid at this point. Everyone around him, including Ziggurat and Doji are seeking his guidance and he's just barely hanging by a thread. All the people around him are vultures that want the same power he has and to not be devoured in the chaos, Pluto has no choice but to kick out many members because he just doesn't have the same competency/leadership as his father because why would he? Pluto is so young and with his father dying in an assassination unexpectedly, there wasn't enough time to teach Pluto what he needed to know in order to run the cult or that stuff. Sure he knew the family history but it wasn't much compared to his father. Without warning, Pluto was thrown into the pit alongside losing the people closest to him. At this point, he hasn't even met Johannes yet too so he has no friends to help him recover or comprehend all this trauma.

The reason Pluto is able to find so much comfort in Johannes (at least in my canon) is because he became genuine friends with him, and Johannes joined the cult not because of Pluto's family connections or what not, but because Johannes believed in Pluto for who he was, even if it was twisted. Pluto is able to recover just slightly by having a friend who isn't initially connected to him through the cult, but just through a random encounter. While the cult thing is stressful, he still believes in it because he was raised to think this way. He may have had loving parents but at the end of the day, they were the ones that convinced Pluto he was "better than everyone else" and that destroying the world was the only correct future and path for humanity. Even if Pluto enjoys certain things, he convinces himself that this is the only way for things to go because that is what his family has been working towards for thousands of years, and that this was his destiny and goal to fulfill. This was his purpose. If he doesn't fulfill this purpose of reviving Nemesis, than what is Pluto? What is his life and who is he? Why did he go through all that suffering and for what? Nothing? He forces himself to think that these events are just better reason for him to get rid of everyone. Johannes also has a terrible childhood which also makes him side with Pluto. It's not like Pluto manipulates Johannes to join him, Johannes is just as bad as Pluto in terms of morals and works with him because he also believes this certain thing.

With how terrible they were treated and seen, deep down, both Johannes and Pluto see themselves as irredeemable monsters that cannot be forgiven ever and so, they continue to do terrible things because they don't believe they can be forgiven nor loved. The two of them are able to find comfort in each other at least, but they still hate everything else so much that they still continue with their plot because they think their lives are so plagued by misery that even if they tried to live together normally, it wouldn't work out.

Going back to the present, these issues still plague Pluto's mind and they do not get better. Now that he has apologized and his genuinely trying to be a good person, he's finally starting to see just how much damage/pain he has caused to the world. All the self-doubt and insecurities that Pluto tried to hide when he was involved in the Nemesis incident (to be fair, stuff was actually going well at a point so he was seemingly less depressed) really surface back up when he tries to be better. All his crimes/sins are starting to catch up with him.

This is also considering that he was, for a period of time in my canon, actually trapped within Nemesis in a dark void with no one else but Rago. There was no sleeping/eating, meaning Pluto was often left to his own thoughts when he wasn't talking to Rago. He thought he was dead forever, so a lot of that time was contemplating his life, his regrets, all the things he didn't accomplish, his failures. Not only that, but he started thinking about Johannes too. Pluto never got the chance when he transformed into Nemesis to see if Johannes was actually still okay. While he was in the void, he had no idea if Johannes was even still alive or if Pluto indirectly killed the only one close to him. If he wasn't dead, did Johannes even miss him? Was he sulking and mourning his loss or did Johannes continue his life with no concern? Did Pluto leave Johannes alone to suffer in grief or did his only friend never care for him at all in the first place?

There was no way for Pluto to know, and this caused him so much mental anguish that when (getting into FDE territory but this applies to my other AUs) he finally sees Johannes again, he rejects him because he's so afraid of confronting his fears. Pluto misses Johannes so bad, he cares for him and yet, he can't build the courage to talk to him again because all his insecurities and fears have consumed him, preventing him from pursuing what he really wants. Even when Pluto finally is able to reconcile and talk to Johannes properly, even after they exchange tears of joy and what not from finally being able to see one another again, Pluto is still afraid and scared. Pluto begins feeling terrible for involving Johannes in the Nemesis incident and starts to think that Johannes should have never met him because Pluto "ruined his life", not understanding that Johannes probably would have been terrible anyway. He starts to think that wanting to even just hang out with him as friends or what not is "selfish" and "terrible" of him because he thinks he has ruined Johannes's life and that Johannes doesn't love him back (this is not true).

Pluto is so insecure that it becomes very difficult for him to find joy in anything in life because he feels like he doesn't deserve it. Even with another chance of life, he thinks he should be suffering for his crimes instead of getting a chance to live a happy life. Even though he now has the support of the Legendary Bladers (mainly Dynamis, Tithi, and later Gingka), he can't help but feel like he doesn't deserve any of it. While he doesn't do anything evil anymore, it's very difficult for him to actually be happy. At least back then, he could find some happiness because there was a sort of ignorance that clouded Pluto's mind. He was ignorant to other people's suffering and was able to continue being terrible because he never looked nor put himself in other people's shoes. Now? He can't do that anymore because he has fully realized the consequences of his actions. He has experienced death and the horrible reality of living in an empty void that has almost no escape. He now knows what all the other people dying in the disasters felt like.

Pluto becomes afraid of beybattling and is unable to participate in bey battles without being reminded of the one battle that actually cost him his life. Battling terrifies him and as a result, he doesn't even carry his bey with him because he doesn't want it. Even though his friends do their best to support him, he just can’t help but feel horrible.

Pluto feels like he can't even express his frustrations with other people except for Johannes (well not all of it, especially the ones related to him) because he thinks people will just scoff at him. After all, he destroyed everything so why should anyone listen to a scumbag like him or give him a chance when he obviously doesn't deserve it? He thinks his problems and issues don't matter because all of this pain and suffering is deserved after everything he's done. He is too afraid to make friends with the Legendary Bladers that gave him another chance because again, he feels like he doesn't deserve friendship nor love. He's also afraid of someone taking advantage of his weaknesses that have become more prevalent than before. People have tried to manipulate him before so how can he even know if people won't try it again?

Pluto and Dynamis’s conflict before Fury also has some influence in Pluto’s behavior. When they first met before Fury, Dynamis made many rude assumptions about Pluto all because of him being descended from King Hades. Dynamis called him an irredeemable monster mainly because of his connection to Hades. This only furthers Pluto's mentality of "there is no reason for me to try being good because even if I did, I'd still be blamed for everything because I'm a descendant of King Hades and he was a terrible person which makes me one too by default." Dynamis and Pluto eventually make up but this thought process still affects Pluto even in the present. Pluto said some vile things too so he's not in the right, but that just further reinforces Pluto's present day insecurities since he is now more aware of what he has said/done.

There is even more I could explore with this but this ramble is almost 1.8k words so I will cut it off here. I will put more in depth information around this in both From Different Eyes and Metal Record (Especially Metal Record since I would also like to dive into Dynamis and Johannes’s backstory too). If you were not already convinced that I was insane for Pluto, I think this should do it.

#metal fight beyblade #beyblade #demise rambles

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statticscribbles · 3 years

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Double Check

Summary: Bucky/Reader, Soulmate AU you see in colour when you meet your soulmate, and you have the first words they say to you on your arm

”Are you sure throwing him into training with actual agents is a good idea?” Bruce shrugs a little and Sam nods to the trainee’s in the room.

“I think it’s important.”

“So why isn’t Steve here?”

“Steve’s the voice of chaos, he’d want the hulk to spar against barnes or you to use your wings.”

“Fair point. I’m sure Fury want’s everything intact.” Sam nods before sighing, Sharon walks up, Bucky following her.

“So he’s been approved?”

“Yep, go kick someone’s butt Barnes. Try to hit the red areas, since it’s based on a points system.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“You can see colours?”

“Yeah, why that a problem?”

“No we had bets it was Steve, who is it?” Clint nods to Bucky’s arm and Bucky nods back.

“They’re dead.”

Sam waits until he’s in the room, the door sliding closed so they can watch the training session from behind glass.

“He never met his soulmate? It said on the files? He passed all the colour tests.”

“Hydra must have killed them?”

”So there’s someone with his match right?”

“His mark was on his left arm… I know what it says. He wants to keep it that way. No telling who could use it against him; especially with tattoos these days.” Steve warns as he scribbles a few notes down.

“He’s holding his own pretty well. I’m surprised he hasn’t noticed that they have sides.” Natasha chuckles a little, watching as Bucky throws two agents to the ground, punching them both right in the center of the red shoulder patch they wear, it goes gray, signalling they’ve been taken out and they make their way over to the side. The doors won’t open until a certain percentage are subdued.

“Huh I didn’t know Y/N was in there.”

“Y/N?” Sharon points to one of the figures that’s circling around Bucky.

“One of the newer recruits; she’s still on probation.”

“Probation?”

“Mhm, Coulson’s team found her when they took down an AIM cell.”

“She surrendered to us?”

“Something like that.” Sharon watches the way you duck under his fist, and arches an eyebrow when you manage to spring up, kicking him directly in his back. He goes down.

“You sure she’s clear?” Steve watches and Sharon nods.

“Mhm, why, you have a second opinion?”

“She could have hit both shoulder patches, or the ones on his legs.”

“And she didn’t, so she has more to learn?”

“No she would have…” Steve doesn’t finish, the doors sliding open, the rest of the trainee’s grayed out, Bucky’s metal arm pinning you by the throat.

“All I have to do is squeeze.”

“Sharon!” You scramble out from under Bucky and rush over to her, she laughs a little, and you pretend to shake in fear, watching the way the metal arm on Bucky flexes.

“Y/N, calm down, it’s just Bucky, remember I talked about him? He’s like you, brainwashed for a while.”

“You were brainwashed?”

“That implies I had a mind to change.” You shrug a little trying to convey that it doesn’t actually bother you. Bucky’s still scowling but it seems to look different than how he was frowning when he’d pinned you down.

“You were raised by them?” He easily reads between the lines you’ve left and you nod.

“лучший солдат красной комнаты” You bow and he just laughs.

“You know how long I expected my soulmate was one of the room’s?”

“Since you trained me I’d imagine.”

“I did..” You can hear the horror in his voice.

“I never spoke to you.”

“Тихий right? They called you that..”

“They meant soft, not quiet…”

“Still worked for a pet name.” He nods towards the elevator.

“I have another hour of-”

“Soulmate leave Y/N you have a week off.”

“But my probation…”

“Has ended.” Bucky pulls you over to him with his metal arm and nods to both Steve and Sharon who roll their eyes at him.

“We need both of you in one piece by the end of the week.” Steve scolds and Bucky flips him off as the elevator doors slide shut.

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dreamerstreamer · 4 years

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Devil-May-Care

Pairing: demon!Dream / Clay x demon hunter!gn!reader

Summary: [Demon Hunter!AU] When you went in search of the most powerful demon known to mankind, you didn’t expect him to be so charming.

Warnings: a little horror + some violence + tw// weapons (crossbow, gun)

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this was requested by a passionate anon! i fell in love with the request at first sight and had loads of fun writing this, although i did take some creative liberty with it. i hope you all enjoy :)

You huffed as you pushed past the branch hanging in your face, wrinkling your nose as you trudged onward. The forest was almost eerily silent around you, the pitch black night doing nothing to ease the tension that had gathered in your shoulders. Above you, the moon and stars twinkled soundlessly, peering down at you with wide, watching eyes.

Where could he possibly be hiding? you thought to yourself with a grimace. Is he even in this forest?

Your mentor had told you that this forest was the last place he’d ever been seen, and that it would be your best bet. But she also told you not to get your hopes too high, since he was known to be a trickster who never stayed in one spot for too long.

You sighed as you stepped over a fallen log, making sure not to trip. Despite how young the night was, you were already getting tired. Tracking was arguably the hardest part of your job, and easily your least favourite part of it.

Then again, no one said being a demon hunter was easy.

With a slight grumble, you squinted through the darkness while walking past another tree. So far, all you’d seen was tree after after tree, and you were getting fed up. Heck, you could have sworn there was a clearing just ahead of you here.

It was at that moment that the trees suddenly parted before you, and you found yourself standing in the middle of a clearing. The soft grass rustled beneath your feet as you took a tentative step forward, your ears perking up for any noise or movement. When nothing came, the muscles in your legs tensed.

This was the first clearing you had found in hours, and something about it just felt off.

“What are you looking for, little hunter?”

You whirled at the sound of the low, curling voice, your gaze frantically darting around the darkness for its source. You kept your lips pursed as your head whipped this way and that, nothing but silence filling the forest air. Even with the light of the moon, all you could make out between the shadows were the silhouettes of trees and their taunting branches looming over you.

There was no way it was who you thought it was... right?

“Not gonna say anything? Hm. Perhaps that’s just because you can’t see me. Here.”

You heard the snap of a finger, and the clearing around you suddenly lit up in a faint, greenish hue. Your eyes widened as the earth you stood upon began to glow, your fingers twitching at your side. Turning again, you quickly searched your surroundings once more for the voice’s owner. Everything seemed to be exactly how it appeared when you first arrived—the trees were just trees and the grass was just grass, even if they were both admittedly glowing.

Just then, there came a whistle from above you.

You lifted your head, and your gaze fell upon a figure sitting atop a tree branch a few feet away. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight.

Piercing, emerald eyes. A green fitted shirt to match. Dark, golden hair. A smattering of freckles. A cold, wicked grin.

The man smiled at you, swinging his legs leisurely as he tilted his head. “Hello there, pet.”

You didn’t wait another second before your arms were reaching up behind you, pulling your crossbow off your back. You slotted the arrow into the flight groove in near record time before aiming it up at him, aiming for but a split second before you pulled the trigger. In a flash, the arrow went flying through the night sky, pointed directly at his face. You could have sworn you caught his eyes turn red before he suddenly vanished, your arrow passing through empty space before pinning itself into the tree trunk he had been leaning against just seconds prior.

You panted, quickly pulling another arrow out of your quiver and reloading your crossbow as you turned in a circle, not a single detail going unnoticed by your watchful eyes. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you tried to focus on the rustling leaves around you. Your fingers curled around the stock of your bow a fraction tighter, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Where is he? Where did he go?

A smooth voice curled around the back of your neck.

“Is this how you greet everyone you meet, or am I just special?”

Whipping around again, you pulled the trigger without even an ounce of hesitation. A twang of satisfaction shot through you as you heard the distinct sound of flesh being pierced, followed by a tumble to the ground. You rushed over at the sight of the man—or demon, as you should be calling him—lying sprawled on the ground, his arms casually tucked under his head as if he hadn’t just been shot.

“Ooh,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around the arrow sticking out of his chest, “your arrows are made of dreamshade.” He grinned at you. “Smart one, aren’t you?”

Before you could even react, he ripped the arrow out, watching with amusement as crimson slowly dripped onto the front of his shirt. You stared at the hole in his chest, left behind by your arrow, a glimmer of glee expanding in your chest. Yes! you thought, your lips quirking as your hand floated toward the pistol hanging at your side. Now’s my cha—

All of a sudden, you watched in horror as the skin began to reform, the sinew and muscle stitching themselves back together to fill the gap. In an instant, his chest was whole again, the hole having disappeared entirely with nothing to even hint at its existence, were it not for the tear in his shirt.

“Unfortunately for you,” he said, tossing the arrow behind his head with a flick of his fingers, “I’m tougher than most demons out there.”

In a flash, you were standing over him, one foot digging into his chest. You didn’t even give him the chance to blink before you were pointing your crossbow at him once more, this time just barely allowing the arrow tip to hover above his neck. You tried to calm your breaths, pushing back the sick sense of joy you could feel starting to boil over inside you. You were so, so close to just killing hi—

“Don’t you think it’s a little rude to attack me without even asking for my name?” he calmly drawled, looking bored out of his mind.

You blinked in surprise, your thoughts faltering for a moment before your expression hardened once more. “I know who you are.”

He cocked his head at you, something like delight swimming in his viridian eyes. “Do you, now?”

You gulped, hesitating only for a moment before you began to speak. “Y-You’re Dream. Lord of chaos. Progenitor of destruction. Harbinger of nightmares.” You nearly choked on your own words.

“The world’s most powerful demon.”

He grinned at you, clapping his hands together above his head as he let out a small hoot. “Aw, you know all my titles?” He winked. “That’s cute.”

Cute, your brain repeated dumbly, a fuzzy feeling forming in your chest, but you quickly shook the thought from your head with a scowl. You should not be happy that one of the most powerful demon’s known to mankind called you cute.

(Okay, well. Maybe you were a little happy. Not that you would ever admit it.)

With a stony look, your finger wrapped around the crossbow trigger, the cool metal sending a shiver down you spine. “I’m here to kill you, Dream.”

He didn’t look fazed. “Oh? Even though we only just met?”

A snarl ripped itself out of your throat, fury slowly beginning to claw up your insides. Why did he sound so calm? Didn’t he understand that he was about to die to your hand?

“That doesn’t matter,” you said bluntly, trying to ignore your heart ramming away at your ribcage. “You’re a monster that needs to be disposed of.”

He hummed, absentmindedly picking at his nail. “That’s bold of you to say.” His tone was dull and interested, and his eyes seemed to shine even brighter thanks the green glow surrounding his head. “I can’t remember the last time a demon hunter has ever been so upfront with me.”

The string tying your restraint together snapped. That was it. How could he be so nonchalant? So apathetic? Didn’t he care?

“You’ve killed so many people,” you spat, “taken so many innocent lives, and for what?” You narrowed your eyes, nothing but pure disgust running through your veins as you dug the tip of your crossbow into the soft flesh of his neck. “What reason do I have to stop myself from ending your life right here, right now?”

Below you, Dream only stared blankly at you, his eyebrows raised. Then, he let out a sigh, wrapping a hand around the stock of your crossbow. Panic shot through you as he pulled it away from his throat with ease, his fingers curling around the polished wood. “First of all,” he said lowly, “that little thing isn’t going to do anything.”

In a blink of an eye, you heard the snapping of metal and wood, your gaze going wide. He shot you a cocky grin. “Not anymore.”

You leapt back, gritting you teeth and tossing your now useless crossbow onto the earth beside you. Your hand moved in a blur as you reached down and pulled out your pistol from its holster, pointing it toward him. “Each and every one of these bullets is soaked in holy water,” you shouted, your hand cocking back the safety. “Don’t think I won’t shoot.”

Dream rolled over onto his stomach, his grin widening as he rested his chin on his hand. “Tell me,” he drawled, tilting his head, “do you really think you scare me?”

You ignored the shaking of your fingers. “I—I can and will shoot you.”

He laughed, an uncomfortable warmth wrapping around your gut. “Please, darling—I’ve been alive for longer than you can even fathom. As if you’d be the first to pin me down, let alone try to shoot me.” His eyes flashed crimson, and you felt your stomach drop. “I know all your hunter tricks and tactics, and believe me when I say they won’t work.”

Suddenly, he floated up off the ground, not changing his position whatsoever. In only a matter of seconds, he was hovering above you, blinking down at your shocked expression with mirth glimmering in his scarlet gaze.

Of course he could levitate—what were you expecting?

“Second,” he said, “I did a lot of those things a long time ago, especially in human years. How long has it been?” He tapped his chin. “Probably centuries by now, which is like forever for you guys.”

You scowled at him, your pistol still pointed at him. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t caused any chaos recently.”

“That’s true!” he chirped, snapping his fingers. “But my more recent activities have been much more... tame in comparison to my golden years, don’t you think?”

As much as you wanted to shoot him right here and now, you also wanted to punch him in the face before you did. “Lives are lives, Dream!” you shouted. “Any more or less lost doesn’t make you any more redeemable.”

A chuckle slipped from his lips, flipping onto his back as he continued to hover in the cool, night air. “Oh, you humans and your morality. How entertaining you all are.”

There was only one word running through your mind as you glared at him, your jaw clenching tight as your rage only multiplied inside you. Monster, monster, monster.

His eyelids fluttered shut as he allowed himself to drift a fraction lower toward you. “Well, I do believe I should ask—who’s to say that I was the one who killed those people, anyways?”

Your heart stopped in your chest. “...what are you talking about?”

He peeked an eye open at you. “It’s not like I flew down from the sky and shot them all with a rifle, and it’s not like I just snapped my fingers and everyone dropped dead.” He hummed at the thought. “Just what kind of person do you take me for?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, your toes curling in your boots. “Stop distracting me—you’re dodging the question.”

“On the contrary,” he shot back without missing a beat, “I’d argue that you’re dodging mine, pet.” You could hear the laughter threatening to bubble up his throat as he spoke. “Do you really think I was the one purely responsible for all that destruction?”

You tried to ignore the slight tremble of your hands. “A-Aren’t you?” you stammered out. “You’ve started wars, detonated massive bombs, pushed people to their absolute limits. That stuff’s all your fault.” You gulped. “...isn’t it?”

For a second, he simply stared at you. Then, he burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh, how naïve you are, pet. Just what were you taught?” As he clutched his chest, he sunk a little lower toward you. “I didn’t fight on those battlefields. I didn’t press the red button. I didn’t kick men and women to the ground, pointing guns in their faces. But do you know who did?”

The cogs in your head began to turn as you wracked your mind over his words. Then, a wave of understanding slammed into you, and you lowered your pistol, your arm going limp at your side.

He couldn’t possibly mean...

“Ding, ding, ding! You guessed it.” His lips curled up into a delighted smirk. “Humanity did.”

Your eyes widened in horror. Oh, no.

The manic look in his eyes only grew. “Oh, yes.” He cackled at the look on your face, pointing at you. “I didn’t even have to lift a finger for you to all walk straight into your own demise! How pathetic is that?”

You took a shaky step back, your pistol dropping to the ground. “B-B—”

“B-B-B-But what?” he said mockingly, mimicking you in a high-pitched tone. “Did they tell you that I’m the big, bad wolf and that humanity is Little Red? Because they lied, pet. They lied to you.” He pointed his fingers together to form an X, tilting his head at you. “I’ll have you know that I’m not a liar. A trickster, perhaps. But a liar?” He narrowed his eyes. “Never.”

He bent down where he hovered in the air, waggling a finger in your face. “The truth is, darling, is that I didn’t do anything. I just stood in the room and watched. I might have pointed out that that one little duke was in perfect view, or that that one city only had so many people living in it, but I never took any lives myself.” He lightly tapped your nose, and you shrunk back as he crooned, “Humanity did all that, pet. They’re the real monsters to blame here.”

You wanted to sink to your knees and melt into a puddle on the ground. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. Your mentor told you that Dream killed all those people—that he was the one to stab the knife in and twist it while pulling it out. She wouldn’t lie to you, never in a million years.

You wanted to believe him, you really did. But there was something about the freckles scattered across Dream’s face and the way the moonlight bounced off his eyes that made you realize.

He was telling the truth.

A few moments passed in silence as you stared long and hard down at your feet. You could feel Dream’s gaze boring into your figure, eyeing you up and down as you struggled to steady the beating of your heart. You half-expected him to mock you even more, but to your surprise, he didn’t. Maybe he was more human than you thought.

“Why?” you finally whispered after god knows how long.

When you were met with silence, you raised your eyes to meet his once more. “Why did you do it?” you said, louder this time. “Why did you interact with us at all if you wouldn’t even get your own hands dirty? If you knew it would only end like this?”

His eyes flashed, the tiniest hint of carmine swirling in their murky depths. “Isn’t the answer obvious, pet?” He flashed you a wicked grin. “I was bored.”

You blinked, realization slowly setting in. “Bored? Bored?” You were about to lose it, now. “You did all that just because you were bored?”

He shrugged. “Sure did. Chaos makes the world so much more interesting, don’t you think? If only good things happened, you would be bored, too.”

Your stomach churned with disgust. “You’re twisted.”

His smile only widened. “At least I’m having fun.”

All you could do was stare at him in defeat. This wasn’t right. There were more ways to have fun than to toy with humanity’s psyche and drive them to end people’s lives, even for a demon like him. There had to be something you could do. For some inexplicable reason you couldn’t bring yourself to name, a part of you almost wanted to help him.

I must be losing my mind, you thought. What person in their right mind would try to save a demon, let alone the most powerful one of them all?

You, apparently.

The cogs in your head began to churn, your mind bustling as it tried to come up with some alternative, no matter how silly. There had to be something he could do that wasn’t just this.

That was when it hit you.

“Why,” you started slowly, your voice coming out shaky and unsure, “don’t you have fun in a way that doesn’t destroy things... but creates them?”

He blinked lazily at you. “Hm?”

You swallowed, raising your chin. “You—you can have chaos, but it doesn’t need to be destructive.”

He raised his brows. “It doesn’t?”

Your gaze hardened. “Not at all.”

Just then, a flash of memory shot through your skull, and you gasped. “Say, Dream,” you began, “do you—do you know how the Greeks thought the universe came to be?”

You didn’t wait for him to answer. “First,” you said, “there was chaos. And from chaos, life was born. Gods and goddesses, plants and animals.”

“And humans,” he added.

You nodded. “And humans—like me.” You pressed a hand to your chest. “See? Chaos can create things. It doesn’t have to be so full of death and terror.”

While his expression was bemused, there was something sad about it that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “You do realize that that’s just a story that you human made up?” he hummed. “How the universe came to be is far more different.”

You blinked. “You were alive for that?”

He sent you a blank smile, the look in his eyes betraying nothing. “Maybe, maybe not.” Waving his hand, he flipped over onto his back, floating a fraction higher than before. “Point is, that kind of chaos probably doesn’t exist.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your side. “But it could,” you whispered.

He paused, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “What?”

You dug your heel into the ground, raising your voice. “It could! You don’t know that it doesn’t.” You took a step toward him, throwing your arms out. “Isn’t that fun? Isn’t that exciting? That there’s a whole other form of chaos you’ve never discovered before?!”

Your shout rang out into the quiet forest as Dream stared at you, his lips parted the tiniest bit. Rather than looking amused or arrogant, he almost looked... raw. Real. This might just the most vulnerable look you’d gotten of him all night.

Then, he burst into laughter.

Lowering your arms, you huffed at him, trying and failing to ignore the warmth blossoming between your lungs as you took in his wheezing face. “W-What?”

“Oh,” he gasped between peals of laughter, “what a treat you are, pet.”

Heat flashed across your cheeks as he wiped away a tear from his eye, his chuckles slowly dying down. His laugh should not sound as attractive as it was—he should not be as attractive as he was.

“Tell you what,” he said as he caught his breath once more, sending you a devilish grin. “If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you my real one.”

You stared at him for a moment, then your jaw dropped. “What?”

He stared at you, his emerald eyes glowing in the dim light. “You heard me.”

For a few seconds, you simply gaped, your brain still struggling to process his words. “But... but why?” you finally blurted. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

He hummed at you, flipping upside down. “What about it doesn’t make sense? It seems like a fair trade to me.”

Sputtering, you threw your hands into the air. “A demon’s true name is the source of their power! By handing it over to me, you’re basically putting your life in my hands—in a demon hunter’s hands.” Your face blanched at the mere thought. “A human name and demon name aren’t even remotely comparable.”

He blinked at you, slow and lazy. “I know.”

You didn’t understand—you couldn’t understand. “Then why are you doing this?”

He dipped his down toward you, his face hovering mere inches away from yours. “Isn’t it obvious?” he murmured. “You’re interesting. And rather cute, I suppose.”

You back-pedaled, your eyes wide as you stammered, “I-I could kill you if you told me your real name.”

He hummed, tucking his hand under his chin. “Perhaps, I suppose.” His lips curled upward. “But you won’t.”

Your hand squeezed around nothing. “You don’t know that.”

He chuckled again, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest. “Oh, yes I do, pet. Don’t act as though I can’t see right through you. I know you’re too wishy-washy to kill me off just like that.”

He tilted his head at you, his gaze brimming with mischief. “That’s the thing about humans—you’re all so greedy. You all want something you don’t have, something that fuels you to acquire more. It might be power, or fame, or fortune, or love. It’s quite pathetic, really. But curiosity?”

Lowering himself, he pushed himself up until he was standing flat on the ground again, his hands sliding into his pockets. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and your mouth went dry. “Why, curiosity is your greatest flaw of all. You humans always want to know more, and I know that you want to know what I do next, whether you’re aware of it or not.”

You felt like your blood was going to tear right out of your veins. You hated how right he was, how well he seemed to know you. “You’re insane,” you said.

His smile was lazy and wide as he took a single step toward you. “Probably. But I’ve been alive for ages now, and you might be the most fun thing I’ve seen in millennia. I want to know your name, pet.”

This was crazy in every sense of the word. Any other demon wouldn’t even dare utter their true name aloud, even to themselves, yet here Dream was, bargaining his for yours.

You’d be an idiot not to tell him your name, now.

Swallowing, you didn’t dare look away from his piercing eyes. “It—my name is [Y/N].”

His lips parted in awe, and he stepped toward you once more. “[Y/N],” he repeated, slowly. Carefully, like a wolf stalking its prey. “Fascinating name. Haven’t met too many of those in my lifetime, shocking as it may be.” He paused for a moment, and you could have sworn his smile looked different. “It’s pretty.”

A rush of heat went shooting down your spine, your stomach doing a flip. Biting the inside of your cheek, you glared at him. “Well, stop dawdling! What’s your real name, Dream?”

For a long, excruciatingly slow minute, he only stared at you, scanning every inch of your face. You could feel anxiety begin to crawl up your throat as he did nothing more than watch the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed.

All of a sudden, he was standing in front of you, his hand tucked underneath your chin and lifting it upward. You barely had the chance to gasp before you felt a soft warmth pressing against your lips, light as a feather and tasting like ash and smoke.

Before you could even register what had just happened, he was gone.

You whirled, your face growing astronomically hot. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears again, but for an entirely different reason this time. You raised your hand to touch your lips while your cheeks burned furiously.

Did he just... kiss me?

Just then, a whisper ran along the shell of your ear, so soft that you almost missed it.

“My name is Clay.”

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pagingdoctorbedlam · 3 years

Note

Hello again! Now that I know who you write for, I'm back with a request! Can I please suggest Sanji x Reader (if that's okay) with the following summer theme prompt? I'm actually really curious to see your take on Sanji. 😳

“some asshole left their dog in the car in the blistering heat and we both noticed and are debating on what to do” au

Thank you so much for doing this! 🥰

Hi Luxi, and thanks for bringing me my first-ever askbox fic prompt! (the prompt list is here for anyone interested)

The idea for this fic sprung into my head soon as I read the prompt, so I hope you enjoy...

"Dog Days: A Sanji x Reader Fic"

You hadn't even made it halfway to the store when you noticed the dog. Not that it was hard to ignore; the poor mutt surveyed the entire parking lot from the window of a jacked-up pickup, and its baleful barks escaped the tiniest crack in the window. The day was hot enough that you were sweltering soon as you stepped outside; you couldn't imagine how bad it must be for a fuzzy dog, much less one trapped in a truck.

Soon as you heard the mutt, all plans derailed. You couldn't just leave it there, and who knew how long the owner might be gone? You racked your brain for a plan, but you had to think fast. The dog's whimpers were already getting weaker.

When you strode up to the car, someone else had the same idea. A tall blond strode up to the opposite side of the truck, eyes so narrowed they looked about to shoot lasers. The truck was large enough that it had running boards to reach the doors, but he hopped right up with a water bottle. The dog shuffled over at the sight of a human, and as the stranger dripped cool water through the crack in the windows, the dog eagerly lapped it up. Its tail still barely wagged, even that exertion too much in this heat.

"This dog can't stay in here," you said as you stared at the locks. The truck didn't have a keypad, thank goodness...and as a matter of fact, it had one of those manual locks on the inside, the sort you pulled up to unlock the car. Which would've been perfect if you weren't wearing sandals. "Hey. Weird question, but are you wearing shoes with laces right now?"

The blond looked at you through the truck window. "Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"I think I can get the truck open, but I'll need to borrow a shoelace."

You figured the guy would refuse, or at least ask questions as to why you needed his darn shoes. Instead, he hopped down from his side of the truck and ambled over to you. He was a handsome guy, now that you got a good look at him. Tasteful button-down shirt and slacks even in this weather, slick blond hair with bangs that covered half his face in a way that looked more mysterious than old-school emo...the curly eyebrow was a little odd, but in a quirky way. Made him more handsome, in an odd way. Especially when he put one foot up on the running board and unlaced his shoe, sliding the string out and handing it to you with a determined nod.

You formed a small lasso with the shoestring, then slid it into the crack in the window. All you had to do was lower it onto the lock, tighten the loop, and pull.

"You happen to be a master thief or something?" The blond asked, simultaneously curious and impressed.

"Nothing so fancy. I'm just real bad about leaving my keys in my car. Keep an eye out in case the owner comes back, okay?"

The stranger nodded and hopped back onto the running board to peer over the top of the truck. Meanwhile, the mutt inside crawled up to the front seat, curious at this new development. It thankfully seemed smart enough to recognize that it was being saved, and didn't bat at the string. Just a little more, and...there! You tightened the loop and pulled the lock up with a satisfying click.

Three things happened at once.

You pulled the door open.

The mutt leapt into your arms with such force, you fell off the running board.

And the car alarm blared with the fury of a thousand hornets.

You clutched the mutt tight to your chest and prepared to hit the pavement, but you instead fell into a pair of sturdy arms. The wind hit your face as you opened your eyes; the blond was bolting full-tilt through the parking lot with you and the dog in his grasp.

"Where's your car?" He shouted.

"Left it home! I took the bus! Where's your car?"

"I walked!" His shoes slapped against the pavement, and you belatedly realized that the shoestring had been left behind in the chaos, still looped around the lock in the still-open door of the truck. Your imagination ran wild with cops somehow tracking down your prints from the shoestring and chasing you down for kidnapping a dog.

"Are we being chased?" You asked.

"Don't know! Not looking back. But if I ever see this dog's owner, I'm kicking his ass!" The blond took a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding a collision with a gaggle of college students. "I'm taking us to my work. There's food and A/C there for the dog, and we can figure out what we're doing from there."

You couldn't think of a better plan, and you wouldn't abandon the mutt at this rate, especially as it licked your face in appreciation. So you nodded and wondered where this bizarre day would take you next.

You'd heard of the Baratie, never had a chance to eat there. Not for lack of funds or interest; it just never came up. So imagine your surprise when you found yourself at the local favorite restaurant before opening, sitting next to a mutt happily lapping up water, the blond stranger humming nearby as he cooked up a meal in the kitchen. Because when he said "get the dog food", he didn't mean ordinary dog chow, but serving up the dog a homemade feast to make up for the ordeal it had just endured.

You had no idea what the dog's name was, or if it had one at all. It had no nametag, just a cheap metal choke-chain you'd swiftly removed. The dog seemed healthy enough, but there were patches in its fur and the scrapes of a rough life outdoors. You decided that, even on the off-chance that someone chased you down for dognapping, you'd refuse to give the mutt up. It deserved a far better home than the one it came from.

Still. "I can't believe I just stole a dog with a random stranger," you said aloud.

"Well then, let's fix that," the blond said as he wandered out with a pair of plates. "I'm Sanji, and here's lunch. Can't be strangers with a name and a meal together, huh?" He set one down in front of the dog, who happily immediately dug into a feast of meat, brown rice, and assorted canine-safe veggies. The other, he set on the table in front of you. You blinked; he'd asked you off-hand questions about your food preferences when you'd arrived, but you hadn't expected him to actually cook for you too.

"I...thank you. And nice to meet you, Sanji." You gave him your name, and his entire face brightened as if it were music to his ears. "Look, this is really sweet, but I don't have a huge amount of cash on hand."

"That's fine. This is on the house, for your heroism and quick-thinking." Sanji took the seat opposite you with a soft smile. "If you hadn't come along, I don't know what I would've done. My only plan was to break the window, but that might've hurt the dog."

You took a bite of your meal. A medley of flavor danced across your tongue. "You know, reasonable folks would've...I dunno, gone inside and had customer service call over the intercom. Or called the cops. Made it someone else's problem."

Sanji shrugged. "Maybe. Think I would've stuck around anyway, saw it through to the end. Had to know if the little guy was alright." There was a softness in Sanji's eye as he looked down at the dog, who chowed down on its meal as if it had never seen food in its life. It was a look of understanding, the sort that came with a history one didn't ask about lightly. Made you curious about this handsome stranger, one who'd drop all plans and leave behind his own shoelaces in order to help someone in need.

You said, "Thank goodness for the unreasonable people of the world, then. Speaking of which...what're we going to do with the dog? I could try to smuggle it into my apartment, but the owners don't allow pets, so I'd have to be careful."

Sanji's gaze flitted up to the ceiling. "My apartment's right over the restaurant. I can keep the dog here."

"Your landlord won't mind?"

"Not if he wants to keep his best chef around. Besides, he's a sucker for underdogs. If the old owner comes back for this little guy, Zeff will toss the guy out by his ears." Sanji winked and turned to the dog. "What do you say, huh? Wanna' stay here with me? Fresh food every day and no choke-chains." The mutt barked in approval, tail wagging at full speed.

Sanji turned to you again. "You're free to visit, if you'd like. I mean, I can't take the dog out during work hours...but like, on breaks, or before we open?"

You smiled at this handsome stranger, with his heart on his sleeve and a sparkle in his eyes. You realize that yes, you'd be more than happy to see him again. "I'd love that. Besides, I'm pretty sure I owe you a new pair of shoelaces..."

#bedlam writes #opfanfic #sanji #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #modern AU #summer au prompts

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

Text

FFXIVWRITE2021 ☆ MY FILLS ☆ PROMPT LIST ☆ AO3 MIRROR (tba)

// COMPLETED! //

total word count: 52,093 words (including bonus) longest fill: fate matrix [5,241 words] shortest fill: sins of the spectator [537 words]

personal favorites: 03 scale - heartbeat concerto 05 fate - fate matrix 14 commend - lights, camera, duty commenced 17 destruct - when the light blinds 22 fluster - in the eyes of the beholder 23 soul - your voice will save me 29 debonair - all like magic to my riddled heart 31 nocturne - to the moon and back

01 FOSTER - taming the stray kayelily // post-shb // 888 words lily still remembers how kaye’s eyes had looked 7 summers ago, when it was filled with naught but distrust and contempt for the world

02 ABERRANT- style over shadow drk npcs // post-shb // 1,037 words sidurgu convinces himself that the black chunks of metal suited the warrior of light far more than pastel pink frills and flowers. rielle is more than eager to dispute that

03 SCALE - heartbeat concerto alphinaudxwol // nodame cantabile au // 2,605 words illya prays to the heavens that the man beside her does not hear the fortissimo that was her pounding heart.

04 BALEFUL - in scornful eyes wol, gaius & alisaie // post-sb // 838 words gaius van baelsar did not fear death, but it didn’t make the warrior of light’s glare, full of seething hatred and fury any less frightening

05 FATE (free) - fate matrix alphinaudxwol // fate matrix au // 5,241 words in a world where the hands of destiny are ones and zeros, at the center of the matrix was a little goddess who would soon find out that she too, isn’t immune to the pull of fate

06 AVATAR - discord-ance spud squad & alphinaud // modern au // 603 words alphinaud infiltrates the spud squad discord server and finds… what else, but chaos?

07 SPECULATE - sins of the spectator alphinaudxwol // post-hw // 537 words at what point does speculation turn into accusation… and accusation comes to cause harm?

08 ADROIT - sweetened tea and midnight ink alphinaudxwol // post-canon // 1,022 words there’s an art to deflection, one alphinaud thought it has fully mastered. unfortunately, his wife is even better at seeing through lies

09 FRIABLE - by the book tataru & alphinaud // pre-endwalker // 666 words the last time alphinaud tasted scones this unappetizing was back in old sharlayan. and though he doesn’t exactly mind, it is absolutely a problem when the one he hopes to gift his baked goods to also happens to be one of eorzea’s best culinarians and the hero of the star both

10 HEADY - fragrant sorrow implied kayelily // wozwald au // 1,805 words even after all these years, the scent of flowers brought the god of death the most amount of pain

11 PREACHING TO THE CHOIR - a house of cards alphinaudxwol // tears of themis au // 1,468 words it takes unwavering conviction, something alphinaud never once doubted stellis’ best junior attorney to possess in strides

12 WANDERLUST (free) - take me to where your heart meets mine alphinaudxwol // post-canon // 1,265 words the warrior of light’s home is often empty, but her heart will ever be full and bursting to the brim with love

13 ONEIROPHRENIA - quietus kaye & illya // wozwald au // 1,858 words in the midst of his delirious, drunken haze he saw her - he can’t tell if it was meant to be his final blessing or an eternal curse

14 COMMEND - lights, camera, duty commenced! illya, g’raha & emet // actors au // 2,263 words behind the scenes of the critically acclaimed long running tv show, final fantasy fourteen, g’raha tia is (almost) inconsolable after he reads the final act’s script

15 THUNDEROUS - if you can hear my tune alphinaudxwol // nodame cantabile au // 1,120 words on a particularly stormy night, when the angry claps of thunder would normally drown out the sounds of the piano, illya wonders if the boy next door would be able to hear the tune of her sincerity and gratitude

16 CRANE - birds of a feather illya & friends // no particular time period // 1,847 words though their species varies as much as the colors of their plumages, birds of a feather flock the warrior of light together

17 DESTRUCT - when the light blinds alphinaudxwol // major shb spoilers // 1,270 words when the light in her shines so brightly that the stars in her eyes have been blinded completely, alphinaud feared that he’d forever lose that which served as his beacon of hope during his darkest moments

18 DEVIL’S ADVOCATE - pearls of wisdom illya & kokomi // post-sb // 1,291 words it just takes a devil’s advocate clad in the form of an angelic surface dweller to convince kokomi to finally leave the coral palace behind

19 LUMINARY - to you who showed me the stars illya & kokomi // post-5.55 // 880 words the soft ripples upon the mirror like water turns the surface beneath their feet into a sparkling, luminescent stage. and in the midst of a meteor shower, a pair of girls who have had all their wishes fulfilled cast their eyes upwards at the star tide

20 PETRICHOR - river flows in you kaye & eulalie // post-canon, alt canon verse // 1,412 words mama wasn’t lying when she said thanalan was often full of unexpected surprises. heavy downpour upon a place named drybone, and an unplanned run in with one of her parents’ long standing allies being two of them

21 FECKLESS - what the heart is to the weak illya & ardbert // early shb // 1,556 words in both their worlds, victory was not decided by power, but by the strength of convictions. for they who carry the fate of the realm upon their shoulders, conviction is something that must be hard earned with their blood and tears

22 FLUSTER - in the eyes of the beholder alphinaudxwol // post-canon // 2,042 words they say an artists always inadvertently pours their heart’s true feelings into their drawings

23 SOUL - your voice will save me alphinaudxwol // post-5.3 // 2,416 words it’s a long time coming, but alphinaud thinks he should finally tell the warrior of light the words his soul has been yearning to say for thousands of years

24 ILLUSTRIOUS - eyes fixed upon a shiny ray alphinaudxwol // aetherweave au // 2,858 words asking the star student of the most prestigious magic academy in eorzea out to the end of year prom is as daunting as it sounds

25 SILVER LINING - in a place where dreams continue alphinaudxwol // mermaid au // 1,422 words getting caught in a terrible storm and being thrown overboard may just be the worst thing that has ever happened to alphinaud - or the best

26 HEARTFELT - all that glitters alphinaudxwol // genshin impact au // 2,105 words on the first full moon of the lunar new year, liya has only a single selfish wish as she gazes up into the sea of lights

27 BENTHOS - beyond lulled waters alphinaudxwol // nagi no asukara au // 1,452 words where the sea meets the land, a promise is made between a boy and a girl who come from radically different worlds

28 BOW - towards a tomorrow illya & kirishimi // period drama au // 2,062 words kirishimi didn’t care for frilly dresses or etiquette unless it was to make a statement - so she gets lessons from the most ladylike friend she knows

29 DEBONAIR - all like magic to my riddled heart alphinaudxwol // post-canon // 2,415 words on the occasion that alphinaud feels confident enough to perfectly exude his charm, illya never fails to be swept off her feet

30 ABSTRACTED - weaving the present, illuminating the future illya & friends // streamers au // 2,849 words the spud squad announce their indefinite hiatus right after releasing their one year anniversary single, and illya cannot help but to feel just a tad bit melancholic

31 NOCTURNE - to the moon and back alphinaudxwol // pre-endwalker // 1,000 words “what do we have to fear? after all, we’ve come this far.”

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #masterlist #ffxivwrite masterlist #i'm ready to suffer #ao3 mirror maybe but atm i'm too lazy

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roman-writing · 3 years

Text

bring home a haunting (9/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 19,386

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

IX: 1987

It wasn't Jamie at Thanksgiving.

Jamie bringing Mikey. Jamie being charming. Jamie seated at the table with the whole family as though she’d never left. It wasn’t the way Dani had sat two seats down from her, wishing she could be close enough that their legs pressed together beneath the table, and in turn resenting herself for desiring such a thing in the first place. Here. Where Dani was surrounded by her fiancé and her future in-laws. Burying her nose in her wine glass against her better judgement until by the end of the night she had felt off-kilter, until she had needed to retreat to the bathroom to splash her face with cold water and sit atop the toilet seat with her head buried in her hands just to be alone for two minutes.

It wasn't Eddie's announcement that he'd booked the botanical gardens as their wedding venue for the next year.

Eddie telling her proudly after work one evening. Eddie listing off all the ways the venue suited their requirements. Eddie expecting her to be relieved that he’d taken such initiative to lift this burden from her shoulders, to allow her to focus on things like flower arrangements, and bridesmaids, and card stock for invitations. Dani had taken the news in stride. Her smile had been broad enough to pull at the seams until she felt like she might split open. She had let him kiss her on the cheek and take her out to dinner. She had let him place his coat around her shoulders, let him place his hand at the small of her back, let him place his hand on her knee the whole ride home.

It wasn’t even her mother dragging her off to Davenport on the weekend to try on wedding dresses.

The long car ride. Her mother in the driver’s seat, while Dani had tried to avoid conversation by staring at scenery through the window. Karen picking at every detail of the dresses that Dani had lingered over – this was too long, this was too ivory, this revealed too much of her back. Dani had let Karen speak with the store attendant instead, walking along a row of sumptuous dresses – innumerable yards of lustrous silk and satin, of muslin, velvet and lace – and unable to imagine herself in a single one. And after lunch, Dani had walked along the riverbank, gazing out across the sun-glinted water, and had thought faintly to herself that this was as close as she’d ever been to the state border. Wondered if she tried to sprint across the bridge, if she would be flung back, pulled by some greater gravity.

It was her car dying. That was what finally did it.

She'd had to call a tow, and Roger Simmons had let her hop into the passenger's seat with a kind smile as he dragged her car behind his truck all the way to the shop. The mechanic spoke like a coroner, coldly addressing what had done the old girl in, while Dani listened, hearing only a high whine in her ears, rising in pitch. In the end, Eddie had to come and pick her up to drive her home. She went in a daze, Jamie's coat draped over her shoulders, a wad of bills clenched in her fist – cash exchanged for scrap metal — and the box of precious things tucked beneath her crossed elbows.

It was the sleepless nights that followed.

It was waking up to sounds of drumming against the walls, a hollow noise, a hollow bang, as though from a fury with an iron glove. And it was waking up again with a jerk, a cold sweat, clutching at her throat and struggling to breathe through the fading nightmare of a rope coiled and snapping taut. Outside, a car in the predawn dark would pace the restless streets, headlamps like eyes lighting up the blue dimity curtains of their bedroom window in passing.

And Eddie slept through it all. Shivering with cold, Dani would curl up against his broad back, wrap an arm around him and lie awake until her body slowly warmed against his, until the rising sun began to tint the world a pallid ghostly grey. By the next morning, she would remember nothing of the terror. Only the cold. The deep and gripping cold.

“Not to be rude or anything,” said Jamie, “but you look like absolute dog shit.”

Now, standing in the doorway to Jamie’s house, Dani laughed. An honest slightly maddened laugh. It was Sunday morning, and Dani could not remember a time when she had felt more tired. She held a bag of food from Owen's that she barely recalled picking up earlier. There was the impression of wandering all that way, as though sleep walking, drifting down the familiar streets and hardly registering the fact that her feet were carrying her to a predetermined destination. As though an internal compass had an arm fixed firmly and pointing towards Jamie.

"Thanks," Dani said when she finally managed to stop laughing — just on this side of hysterics — wiping at the corners of her eyes and smiling weakly.

Jamie stepped aside to let her in and shut the door behind her. "Have you not been sleeping? And where's your car?"

Dani had to swallow back a tightness in her throat. "I sold it," she said, taking off her shoes and setting them to one side. "It died and I sold it."

"Sorry to hear that,” said Jamie and she sounded genuine. “But, hey. If you ever want advice buying a new one and don't know what to look for, I can help."

Dani didn't want a new car. She didn't want any car that wasn't purely her own and nobody else's. A car bought with a joint account. A car chosen on someone else's recommendation — no matter how sensible. None of it was sensible; she didn't want sensible. She wanted to go back to 1981 and purchase a car that let her feel — for the first time in too long a time — free.

There was a gentle touch at her elbow, and Dani tensed. She turned to find Jamie watching her with a kindly expression. "You want a cup of tea?" Jamie asked. "Only — it looks like you need one."

Dani's mouth opened, then shut again. She nodded, drawing in a deep breath. Her morning cup of coffee — Eddie had made it, insisting it was his turn — was a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. The only effect it seemed to have had was increasing her heart rate and leaving her bereft of the ability to sit still without feeling like she was going to self-destruct.

She followed Jamie into the kitchen, answering Jamie's questions with half-phrases and murmurs, distracted by the glance of light through the windows, by the way it seemed to cast Jamie all in bronze. A statue breathed into with life as though by an artist’s hands. Somewhere along the way, Dani had dropped her purse to the floor and sat at one of the bar stools, resting her cheek heavily in one hand.

Jamie set the kettle on a back coil and frowned over at her. "It's only nine, you know. You sure you don't want to have a quick nap before our usual torture via sci fi?"

Dani tried to imagine sleeping on the couch while Jamie puttered around the kitchen, and knew it would be impossible. She shook her head. "Thanks, but your couch is very sunny."

Indeed, the couch was sun-bathed and bright, just visible in the other room. The idea of sleeping there, waking up sweltering where anyone could walk by the house and see her, made her stomach turn.

"Doesn't have to be the couch," Jamie said. "I've a perfectly good bed upstairs."

Dani’s head jerked back. She pointed towards the stairs and said, “You mean — yours?”

"Yeah, unless you want the kid's room," Jamie opened up a cupboard and took out a tin full of tea bags. "Trust me. You don't."

“If - If that’s okay,” Dani said, voice rising in inflection like a question.

Jamie set down the tin. “Said it was, didn’t I? C’mon. Up you get.” She started towards the stairs and gestured for Dani to follow her.

For a moment Dani stayed seated at the counter. She could say no, and Jamie would let her. Jamie wouldn’t insist. Jamie would go back to making tea and small talk until Mikey wandered down for breakfast and television.

Scraping back the stool, Dani stood and trailed after her. Jamie didn’t glance back as they climbed the stairs together. Dani kept a hand on the wood-painted railing all the way up as though the earth might pitch beneath her feet. When they reached the landing, Jamie held up a finger to her lips and pointed at Mikey’s shut door, the two of them slipping past, and then Jamie was pushing open the door to her room.

With a sense of unreality, Dani stepped inside. Her memories of Jamie’s personal space always involved mess, a sort of organized chaos. The years had dampened that only somewhat. A few of Jamie’s clothes were still strewn across the floor and clutter accumulated on the dresser, but the bed was made and the air had that recently vacuumed smell. The curtains were drawn, admitting only a faint sliver of light from the far wall so that the room was pleasantly warm and dark.

Giving Jamie a furtive and apologetic shrug, Dani stepped towards the bed.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Jamie said from the doorway as Dani sat on the edge of the mattress, nearest the window.

“Don’t,” said Dani, “let me sleep too long.”

Jamie smiled at her. “Go on. Get some kip,” she said, and pulled the door quietly shut behind her.

Dani listened to Jamie’s footsteps retreating back down the hall. She didn’t realize she was gripping a corner of the sheets in a fist until she felt a dull ache in her hand. Clasping her hands together in her lap, she sat there and stared at the drawn curtains.

This side of the bed had no side table. Then again, Jamie had always preferred the right side of the bed. Somehow that simple knowledge was like a thrilling secret. Dani glanced over at that side, at the half empty glass of water and the faded novel and the pocket knife. Sitting up slightly, Dani tugged out the sheets and slipped beneath them, not bothering to get undressed.

Somehow this was worse than the couch. She was a voyeur in her own skin. Every motion seemed performed outside of herself, viewed by a camera lens through a keyhole. Dani sprawling across the mattress. Dani twisting up in the sheets. Dani pressing her face into the pillows and inhaling deeply. Dani pulling the covers up until her head was all but covered, until she was wrapped up in the familiar warmth and smell, until the sleepless nights came rushing over her, dragging her down, down into the vasty deep.

She awoke to the sounds of voices, distant through the door and down the stairs. Blearily she blinked and squinted around the room. The first thing she registered was that the bed was oriented incorrectly; it should have been up against the other wall. And the voices weren’t quite right either. There was the distinct lack of a Scottish burr.

Because it wasn’t 1978, and she wasn’t at the railway cottage, and Ruth Heron had been dead for over a decade.

Five more minutes, she thought muzzily to herself. Just five more minutes and she would wake up.

Five minutes came and went. Head still buried in a pillow, Dani lifted her arm to check her wristwatch. Thirty-five minutes, in fact. She couldn’t remember falling asleep again. Only that she couldn’t think of a time when she wanted to wake up less. Only that Jamie’s bed was far more comfortable than her own, and that even after all these years she could with confidence say she much preferred it.

Pushing herself upright, Dani fumbled with the skin-warm covers. She was swinging her legs over the side of the bed and running a hand through her sleep-mussed hair when she heard a gentle tap on the door.

“You decent?” Jamie’s voice asked from the other side.

Dani’s fingers curled at the hem of her skirt. She said, “Come in.”

The doorknob turned slowly and Jamie poked her head in before the rest of her followed. “Feeling better?” she asked, shutting the door behind her.

Dani lifted her head slightly, remaining perched on the edge of the mattress, angled away from the door. “A little.”

Jamie’s footsteps padded closer and behind her Dani could feel the bed sink down slightly beneath a new weight. She stared down at her own bare ankles. A slit of light through the curtains lapped against the carpet, so that it seemed her feet were underwater.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

A precarious lock of hair fell into Dani’s eyes, and she raked it back with both hands. Her fingers remained tangled there, slumping down so that her wrists rested against her shoulders and she held onto the back of her neck.

“It wasn’t half mine,” she said finally after a long pause. “The car, I mean. It wasn’t half my car. It was just - just mine. Nobody had to lend it to me, or share it with me, or withhold it from me, or - It’s silly, I know. I’m being silly.”

“You’re not.”

Hesitantly, Dani twisted round. Jamie had moved up the bed so that she was leaning easily against the headboard, propped against a pillow. One leg hung over the side of the mattress, and the other was bent at the knee. Ten years ago, Dani would have sank down beside her, would have rested her head in Jamie’s lap or on the perch of Jamie’s shoulder. Now the spread of sheets between them might as well have been the breadth of the Atlantic.

“It’s not silly,” Jamie continued, “wanting something that’s just yours. Not at all.”

“I have this.”

The words spilled out of her before she could properly think over their implications, and Dani rushed to clarify.

“Sundays,” Dani said. “I have - I have my Sundays back, I guess.”

“Not really just yours though, are they?”

“What do you mean?”

Jamie smiled softly and gestured to herself. “Well, I’m here. Taking up your precious Sunday time.”

Dani’s mouth felt dry. “Yeah,” she murmured. “But that’s -”

She didn’t say: ‘different.’ She didn’t say: ‘what I want.’ She meant it, though, and the words hung unspoken between them.

Dangerous, Dani thought. Being here — in Jamie’s bed, still tired, still muddled from sleep, the truth on the tip of her tongue — was dangerous.

Jamie looked away and Dani found she could breathe properly again. She cleared her throat as Jamie moved to stand up without doing so. Gesturing to the bed, Jamie said, “You can keep sleeping, if you want. I can tell the kid to keep it down and do homework, and you can sleep.”

“No,” said Dani faintly, then with more strength, “No, I want to wake up.”

It was far too early in the morning to be teaching children songs to a nativity play. Dani stood at the front of the otherwise empty auditorium with her class, clutching a cup of coffee that she had smuggled out of the teacher’s lounge. It was ten days until Christmas, and not a single one of these kids was ready to perform at the school play. Bless them.

Dani winced when the tune slid distinctly south of the intended key. With a fortifying sip of coffee on her tongue, she shook her head and raised one hand. “Okay, stop! Please! Let’s start from the top again, all right?”

She shot a plaintive look towards Ms. Reeves, who was by this time an institution in and of herself. Ms. Reeves was also the only competent pianist at the school and could sight-read sheet music. With a nod, Ms. Reeves pushed up her thick tortoise shell glasses and struck a chord to orient the kids back to the beginning of the song.

It did not go any better than last time. Not even with Dani slowing them all down and singing various sections by herself, so they could hear the difference. That didn’t seem to help much. If anything, the kids were adamant that she could keep singing so they could just listen and whittle down the clock until freedom. And she couldn’t blame them. She herself kept checking her wristwatch, wondering how many minutes until she was free from the purgatory of work so close to the holidays.

“You know,” she told them once they’d finished, “I’m not the one that’s going to be singing in front of all your parents.”

“But you’re much better at singing, Miss Clayton.”

“Yeah, you should just do the performance for us. We’ll be back up dancers.”

Dani gave a snort of laughter and rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s very flattering, but ultimately unhelpful. And it’s definitely not happening. So, we’re going to practise again tomorrow. All right?”

A chorus of whines answered. Dani held up a hand and began shooing them off the stage, “I don’t want to hear it. This is your only homework this week. So, you’re welcome. Go. Go on.”

It did not take much urging. They went with talk amongst themselves, shared excitement and laughter at being let free. One or two of them gave her a wave in passing.

“Bye, Miss Clayton.”

Dani smiled. “Bye, Mikey. See you later.”

Mikey trotted after a small group of his friends, shouldering his star-splashed backpack. At the piano, Ms. Reeves was shuffling together the sheet music and stashing it in the compartment hidden in the seat before she too shuffled towards the exit, trailing after the children.

Still on stage, Dani called out after her, “Thank you, Ms. Reeves! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

No sooner had the door shut behind her however, than it opened again. Dani, who had begun cleaning up after the kids — the last thing the janitor needed was to sweep this whole place when it would just take a few minutes of her time to pick up the bits of litter that seemed to accumulate wherever a pack of children roamed — glanced up, expecting to see that perhaps one of her students had left something behind. Instead, Hannah walked into the auditorium, her heels clicking against the polished floors.

“Oh, hi!” Dani greeted with an absentminded smile, even as she ducked down and tucked a few crumpled wrappers into her pocket for disposal later. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Just doing the rounds,” said Hannah. “Finished some paperwork early.”

“Lucky you,” Dani drawled. She dropped down to one knee and reached under a stand to fish out a piece of paper that had been left behind. Someone’s old homework, no doubt. “I still have to -” she pushed herself upright, careful not to spill what remained of her coffee “- enter last week’s tests into the system. Good grief, how do they always leave so much trash everywhere? They were only here for forty minutes.”

Hannah climbed the stairs to join her on stage, the two of them arrayed like actors before an absent audience. “So, how many ear plugs should I bring this year?” she asked.

“At least two pairs for you and me,” Dani answered, sharing a small smile with her.

“Nothing for your beau? I didn’t think you the type to let him suffer alone.”

Dani laughed. She folded up the page of old homework and slipped it into her pocket. “This isn’t one of the events he’ll want to come to. Trust me.”

Hannah cocked her head to one side. “And what of Miss Taylor?”

Taken aback, Dani blinked and fumbled for a response. “Jamie? Well, she’s not - I mean - We’re just friends.”

Hannah gave her an odd look. “Of course. I was only asking if she would be attending to see her brother.”

“Right,” said Dani. “Yeah. Yeah, she’ll be here.”

When Hannah simply watched her curiously, Dani tucked a lock of hair behind one ear and sipped at her near empty cup of coffee. It had gone completely cold and bitter, despite the copious amounts of sugar and creamer she had added earlier.

“Have you worked out the catering yet?” Dani asked. Anything to fill the dead space, to divert Hannah’s too clever, too perceptive, too gentle gaze.

The corner of Hannah’s mouth quirked in a knowing smile, but all she said was, “Yes. I thought I’d take your advice, actually.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been in touch with the owner of that cafe in town,” Hannah said. “And Owen has gladly agreed to be the school’s supplier for the after show event.”

“Owen , huh?” Dani repeated, grinning. “Not Mr. Sharma?”

“Shall we play that game, Miss Clayton?” Hannah said, and though her tone was light the look she shot Dani was warning.

Clearing her throat, Dani turned the empty cup between her hands and glanced away. “Point taken,” she said weakly.

For a moment she feared that Hannah would press. A shiver of utter dread wormed its way up Dani’s throat, locking her jaw in place like a coroner’s wire sewn through the gaps in her teeth. Hannah knew. If not the specifics, Hannah knew something. She had seen the flowers. She had seen Dani and Jamie interacting at school events and camping trips. She had seen Dani spiraling at the Halloween fair, had calmed her down in the shadow of the old brick building, and sat with her until Dani could gather the pieces of herself together again. It’s all right , she had said. It’s all right.

And even though Hannah said nothing now, the words hung between them. They were alone in the school auditorium, on stage before an empty crowd, and Dani could not shake the feeling that if she looked up, there would be a bucket teetering in the rafters over her head.

“Do you have any plans for the holidays, dear?”

The question was so casual it took Dani a moment to register that Hannah had once again allowed her to slip away, unscathed and unnoticed.

“Just the usual,” Dani said. “Home with my mother and the future in-laws.”

“Well, that’s something, isn’t it?”

Dani smiled. Something. Yeah. It sure was. Another year at Judy’s house. The last year until she was another Mrs. O’Mara in a family full of Mrs. O’Maras.

“And you?” Dani asked.

With a sigh and a one-shouldered shrug, Hannah said, “The holidays are always quiet for me. I left my life back in England, when I came to America.”

“Why not,” Dani gestured with the cup towards the auditorium at large, “go back? Don’t you ever travel anymore?”

“Oh,” said Hannah, sounding surprised. “Not really, no. Apart from coming here. But that was a bit of a spur of the moment decision to follow -” she cleared her throat and whatever she had been about to say was replaced instead by, “Well, to follow a job opportunity, I suppose.”

“Do you miss it?” Dani asked. “Home, I mean?”

Hannah smiled gently. “Is it home, I wonder? I cannot say. I miss people. But — well. I have people here now, don’t I?” And she grasped Dani’s arm with a brief warm touch.

Dani blinked in surprise. “Of course. Yeah. You know, you could - you could come over. If you wanted.”

“That’s very kind of you, but not this year, I think.”

“Hey,” said Dani softly, and she reached out as if to grasp Hannah by the elbow, to return the gesture, only to let her hand fall back to her side instead. “I know I call you ‘Mrs. Grose’ and all that, but that’s not — I think of you as a friend.”

“Does that mean I can expect to receive a wedding invitation?” Hannah asked slyly, avoiding Dani’s well-meaning American earnestness with all the finesse of an Englishwoman incapable of stomaching such bald sincerity.

Dani laughed. “I’ll make sure to sign the invitation myself.”

“Very good.”

“So,” Dani nudged Hannah’s foot with her own, “Next year? Christmas? You’ll come over?”

Hannah chuckled warmly. “Next year.”

There was a blanket of snow across the ground and Dani had elected to wear heels. Simple navy dress shoes. Just enough to give her an extra two inches of height and match her outfit. The moment she opened the car door and was met with a bank of snow along the curb side, she scrunched up her nose and weighed up her chances at being able to step over it. Her skirt probably wouldn’t give her the range of movement.

She was still pushing at the quirks of her gloves, when Eddie said from the driver’s seat, “I got it.”

He stepped out of the car, door slamming behind him, and rounded the car so that he could kick a path through the snow for her. Then, holding out his hand, he grinned. “Think Mark will hire me as the new plough driver?”

“You missed your calling,” Dani replied. She took his hand, giving it a grateful squeeze and allowing herself to be pulled up and out of the car.

“Well, if this council role fails, at least I have that.”

He didn’t bother locking the car as they made their way up the street towards his parent’s house. Dani kept her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, shoulders hunched up and huddled beneath her jacket. The pavement had been salted and was bare of snow or ice. Great plumes of white feathered the night air with every breath. Dani shivered.

“God, I can’t wait for spring,” she muttered under her breath.

He chuckled, then took her hand and pressed it into his pocket, wrapped up in his hand for warmth. “You could’ve just worn boots, you know,” Eddie said. “I hear ski jumpsuits are very chic nowadays.”

“I think my mother would kill me.”

“We could write Dior across the back with a bedazzler. That way she couldn’t complain.”

Dani snorted with laughter before she could stop herself, biting back a wide grin. She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “You’re almost as bad as Jamie.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

By some miracle, Dani didn’t slip even once on the short walk to the front door. She ran a quick hand across her hair to ensure it was still coiffed to perfection while Eddie knocked. They didn’t actually wait for anyone to answer. Knocking was more of a courtesy. The moment after Eddie knocked, he turned the handle and pushed the door inwards to admit them, calling out, “We made it!”

“Merry Christmas!” a few voices said in jumbled unison, while Judy called from the kitchen, “Come in! Come in!”

“Shut the door while you’re at it!” Tommy added. “You’re letting out the heat!”

The two of them shuffled inside, shutting the door and pushing off their coats and gloves. Eddie held out his hand to take hers and she gave them to him with a grateful kiss on the cheek, which he ducked down to receive before striding away to hang up their things in a closet around the corner. The house was pleasantly warm and bright. A fire flickered and popped in the hearth. A few of Tommy and David’s kids were playing cards on the rug in front of it. Tommy and David themselves were seated on the couch, chatting with their dad and nursing beers. Their wives were sipping wine; the two had cordoned themselves off by the chairs near the Christmas tree, which was already piled high with presents for tomorrow. Taking off her heels and setting them by the front door, Dani gave the two other women – both sleek, polished, and brunette – a nervous little wave and a smile. They returned it, looking as plasticky as Dani felt.

Already Dani felt herself tense up with quiet dread at the thought of making small talk all night. The section of hard floor by the front door was slightly wet from the residue of snow left when people first stepped inside, and with a grimace she stepped further into the house and onto warm dry carpet. Before she could go any further however, there was another knock at the front door. And this time, it didn’t immediately open after.

Looking around, nobody else seemed to be moving. So, Dani walked back a few steps and opened the door to find her mother standing on the other side, a bottle of red wine under one arm.

“Oh,” said Dani, smiling weakly. “Hi, mom.”

Karen cast an appraising glance across Dani’s appearance – navy skirt, navy jacket, cream-colored blouse, bare-stockinged feet – and her eyebrow rose.

“What? Did you leave your snow boots at home?” Karen asked, moving inside so that Dani had to step out of the way.

Dani sighed. “Merry Christmas, mother.”

Normally that kind of tone would have earned her a sharp-tongued rebuke, but from the couch Mike said jovially, “Karen! Nice to see you!”

Her mother removed her shoes and strode towards the couch to talk. Tommy and David exchanged their pleasantries. Meanwhile, Dani caught Mike’s eye over her mother’s shoulder. He winked at her, but the action was so fast and subtle she might have imagined it.

Making her way past the living room, carefully not catching the attention of Tommy and David’s wives, Dani slipped into the kitchen. There, Carson and Judy were adding the finishing touches to a feast’s worth of food already spread out across the center island, while Eddie rummaged around in the fridge.

“Oh, honey, don’t you look nice,” Judy greeted her with a smile. She gestured Dani closer with a spatula so she could give her a brief one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek before returning to task.

“Hey,” Carson said, flicking a towel at his brother’s backside. “If you’re not going to help, get lost.”

Eddie straightened with a scowl, clutching a can of beer in one hand. “Knock it off, Carson.”

“Mom, tell him to get out of the kitchen.”

“Get out of the kitchen, Eddie,” said Judy in an absentminded tone, busy carving an enormous glazed ham and plating the slices.

Eddie shut the fridge door and said, exasperated, “Why do you always side with him?”

“Because she likes me more than she likes you,” Carson whisper shouted, dodging out of the way when Eddie took a swipe at the back of his head.

Which was, of course, exactly when Judy chose to look up from her carving, her face a fixed scowl of displeasure. “Edmund! On Christmas? Really?”

“Wha -?” Eddie pointed at Carson, but whatever excuse he’d been about to say died on the tip of his tongue as his mother returned to what she’d been doing. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

Carson flapped the towel towards the exit to shoo his brother away, and Eddie went, sipping sullenly at his beer. “Not going to save me?” he asked Dani as he passed her in the doorway.

Dani shrugged apologetically but she was grinning when she replied. “Your mom’s house. Your mom’s rules.”

“Smart girl,” Judy murmured.

Eddie left, grumbling all the while. Carson waved cheerily after him and only stopped when Dani gave him a look.

“What?” Carson asked.

“You know what.”

“He was being in the way,” said Carson as though that justified everything. “He’s always being in the way. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

Even Judy shot her an amused glance at that. Dani crossed the room and snatched the dish towel from Carson so she could get started on the pile of pots and pans that had already accumulated in the sink before anyone had eaten a single bite.

Of course she knew that. Better than anyone. Better than any of them could begin to understand.

Instead, all Dani said was, “And we love him anyway. Because that’s what good siblings do. Especially during the holidays.”

Carson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Fine.”

Running the tap to fill up the sink, Dani flicked him with water, and he ducked away from the splash with a whine of complaint.

“Judy!” called out Mike’s voice from the living room. “Can you bring out a towel and some soap! We’ve had a spill!”

With a sigh, Judy held out her hand for the towel, which Dani was already passing over to her along with a spare bar of soap from the windowsill over the sink. “Thanks, honey. Carson, can you take out the pie for me, please?”

Carson saluted sharply and moved towards the oven. “I’m on it, boss.”

In a bustle, Judy went out into the living room, leaving Dani and Carson alone in the kitchen. From the open door, Dani could hear her say, “Already, Tommy? I told you to be careful.”

“Sorry, mom. Here. I can do it.”

“It was David’s fault, actually.”

“Hey, Ed? Buddy? You want to test the ‘no fight’ rule of Christmas?”

“Boys, please.”

Dani hid a grin. She twisted off the tap and scrounged around in the cupboard beneath the sink for a pair of pink gloves to start the washing up. Beside her, Carson grabbed an oven mitt and a spare towel, and pulled out a pie, resting it atop the stove and switching off the remaining dials.

“Smells great,” Dani said idly as she reached for a scrubbing brush and soap. “You two must’ve been working all afternoon.”

“It was mostly mom, to be honest. Though I was charged with some last minute grocery shopping. The store was a nightmare.”

Dani gave him a sympathetic grimace. With a smile, Carson set down the oven mitt and moved around her so that she could hand off a pan to him for drying.

“Feel like we should leave this for Eddie and the twins to clean up,” said Carson. “Seems only fair.”

Dani shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you’re too nice.” He nudged her shoulder with his own. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“What? Of being nice? No.”

“No?”

She pushed another clean saucepan, still dripping with suds, into his hands and repeated, “No.”

“Your loss,” he sighed dramatically.

They fell into a companionable silence. From the other room they could still hear the goings on of the rest of the family. Dani listened fondly, while beside her Carson began humming a familiar tune under his breath. They worked in tandem, but as Dani placed the song — one of the many she’d heard at his concert in Des Moines — her movements slowed. His humming was but an echo of that night. Of bright neon lights, and a sweat-crowded underground bar, and thrumming noise vibrating the very floor beneath her feet.

“You know I -” Dani started to say, then stopped, not knowing exactly how to continue. “I went looking for you that night. After the performance, I mean.”

“Hmm?” Carson said, idle and wordless, setting aside one pan and reaching for a clean pot that Dani had just finished washing.

The water was murky and soap-riddled in the sink. A few knives were barely visible at the bottom, and there was still more than one pan handle cresting up through the surface like a sunken bowsprit. Eyes glued to the water, Dani set down the scrubber and steadied herself, hands braced against the edge of the sink.

“I found you. I saw you with your - your friend,” she said softly, slowly, picking up pace when he stiffened at her side, realising the implication of her words. “And I know it’s not my business, but I just - I wanted to tell you -”

She glanced up at him. Carson was frozen and wide-eyed, his hands gripping the damp drying towel as though it were a life line, the only thing keeping him tethered. Dani slipped her hands free of the gloves and reached out to grasp his wrist with fingers that were clammy yet gentle.

“I think you’re wonderful,” Dani breathed, her voice low and her gaze far more steady than her heart beat. She could feel Carson’s leaping like a skittish animal’s beneath her thumb. “And I wish I were half as brave.”

He blinked at her, his brow furrowing slightly, and Dani felt her throat close up around her tongue. She could tell him. It could be their little secret. Something they shared, a flame shielded from the wind by two cupped hands, flickering red-hot against their palms. She could tell him that he wasn’t alone, that she understood, that he didn’t need to hide from her. She could tell him, but the words were strangled at the root, piling up against the roof of her mouth. She could tell him, but he would always be Eddie’s brother before he was hers.

Footsteps behind them. Someone entering the kitchen. Dani snatched her hand away as though scalded, and both she and Carson stepped back from one another. Putting the pink gloves back on to finish the dishes, Dani cast a furtive look over her shoulder.

Karen had paused in the doorway, gripping the neck of the wine bottle in one hand. "I hope I'm not interrupting something," she said with a pointed flicker of her eyes between Dani and Carson.

The idea was so ridiculous — her and Carson — that Dani couldn't help but laugh. That her mother cared to know her so little she could even think they were anything but friends. It was laughable. And so Dani laughed. Beside her, Carson’s expression was pinched, as though it took everything in his power to not join in.

"Is something funny?" Karen asked coolly.

Stifling a giggle behind her teeth, Dani shook her head. "No," she managed. Then she cleared her throat and continued more seriously, "No. Nothing at all. What can I get for you, mom?"

“Well, unless the wine glasses and corkscrew have taken up a new residence, I can get what I need myself.”

Dani handed off one of the last knives to Carson for drying and frowned at where her mother had crossed the kitchen to open one of the drawers. "At least wait for dinner," Dani said, and tensed as though for an incoming blow when her mother sent her a warning glare.

"Not tonight, Danielle," Karen said. "You know how hard Christmas is for me."

Except it wasn't just Christmas. And it wasn't just tonight. It was every night and all the nights that had come before.

Mouth pursed, shoulders tense, Dani stripped off the gloves. Carson must have noticed the hard expression on her face, for he said suddenly, “Hey, Dani, can you go tell everyone that dinner’s ready and that they’ll need to come serve themselves? We’re doing it more buffet style this year, since there are so many of us.”

Exasperated, Dani nodded. Carson nudged her lightly with his elbow and gave her a smile.

“Thanks,” Dani said under her breath.

“Yeah, you too,” he murmured. Then, straightening, he said, “Mrs. Clayton, do you mind pouring me a glass as well?”

Karen reached for two glasses instead of just one, and Dani was able to slip from the kitchen without further incident.

The hallway provided a brief reprieve, caught in between the living room where Christmas music played and the family chattered, the tree glowing with lights fading from one color to another and reflecting off hanging tinsel, and the kitchen where she could still feel the presence of her mother, a shadow at her back. Leaning against the wall beside the kitchen entrance, lingering there for a moment, she went stiff when her mother passed her by to retreat back into the living room. Expelling a slow breath, she startled slightly when the doorbell rang, and felt her shoulders slump with relief.

“I’ll get it,” Dani called out, and made for the door, pulling it open and smiling at the sight of Jamie and Mikey wearing identical grins with curly hair dusted in a cluster of snow. “You’re late.”

“It was Jamie’s fault,” Mikey said, “She forgot to dig out the truck from the snow.”

Jamie rolled her eyes and gently shoved Mikey inside. “You’re one to talk,” she said, shutting the door behind her with her boot, arms laden with presents, “You’re the one who took bloody forever to wrap the rest of those presents.”

“Because you kept complaining it wasn’t neat enough,” Mikey countered with a scowl.

“Are you two going to bicker all night, or are you going to give me your coats?” Dani asked, biting back a laugh when Mikey gave her a sheepish grin and Jamie snorted, setting aside the presents on a nearby side table.

Dani waited patiently as they slipped off their boots to rest against the towel already damp from snow, but as they began to pull off their coats, Jamie wacked Mikey on the arm. “Oi, you forgetting something?”

“Oh,” Mikey said sheepishly, handing Dani his coat and scarf with a small grin, “Merry Christmas, Dani.”

“Merry Christmas, Mikey,” Dani said, chuckling, “Don’t worry. You can tell me again tomorrow morning. You two are coming, right?”

Jamie shrugged, handing over her own baggy coat and old scarf. “‘Course. Wouldn’t miss it,” she said, and jerked her chin towards Mikey with a smirk, “Think this one would have my head if we did.”

But Dani wasn’t particularly listening, her eyes flickering across Jamie’s outfit of black slacks, a slim fitting black button up, and brown suspenders. The top button of her shirt was open, exposing an expanse of pale skin and the long silver link chain that disappeared in the collar of her shirt. Dark-haired and gray-eyed, she looked unfairly attractive.

Swallowing thickly, feeling slightly unmoored, Dani gestured towards the outfit in question. “How very monochromatic of you.”

“Well, I do have a reputation to upkeep,” Jamie said, the corner of her mouth curling into an roguish grin, “The ugly jumpers are for tomorrow, remember?”

“Yeah,” Dani said, chuckling faintly, “I remember.”

Sufficiently breathless over the bright glint in Jamie’s eyes, Dani ducked away around the corner to hang the pair's coats in the closet and settle her heart rate.

“Is that who I think it is?” Judy’s voice rang through the hallway. “There you two are! Come here! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. O’Mara,” Jamie replied.

Dani grinned fondly, shoving aside thick winter coats in the closet to make room for Jamie’s and Mikey’s, overhearing the warm welcomes around the corner, easily picturing Judy crushing Jamie and Mikey into affectionate hugs.

“Oh, finally, ” came Eddie’s voice next in a teasing tone, “Thought I was gonna have to rally the troops to start dinner without you.”

“Would’ve rung your neck if you did,” Jamie grumbled.

“Now, you two,” Judy admonished, “You remember my house rules, don’t you?”

Dani returned just in time to find Jamie shrugging with an impish grin, hands tucked into her pockets, and Eddie rolling his eyes. Judy in question had her arm wrapped around Mikey’s shoulders, and huffed out a soft laugh.

“You two haven’t changed a bit,” she said, and lightly jostled Mikey’s shoulders, “Come on, handsome. Let’s leave these silly goons to sort themselves out and go greet the others, huh?”

“Okay,” Mikey said quietly, wearing a shy pleased smile, cheeks dusted pink under the attention, letting himself be guided towards the living room where Dani could hear Tommy and David’s kids exclaim excitedly over Mikey’s appearance.

“Look at that, Ed. She called him handsome,” Jamie said with a smirk and some measure of pride, “Don’t recall her ever calling you handsome growing up.”

Eddie glowered, but Dani could see it lacked any real heat behind it. “Don’t recall her calling you pretty either.”

”That’s ‘cause I was the one she was calling handsome instead.”

When Eddie’s expression twisted in mild bewilderment, Dani breathed out a soft laugh and approached the pair. At her appearance, they both turned and grinned broadly at her. Dani blinked, feeling her breath catch in her chest lightly under the attention, her eyes darting between them. She quickly smothered the feeling, pulling her mouth into a small smile.

“You’re just gonna let her talk to me like that?” Eddie said, pointing reproachfully at Jamie.

Dani chuckled and folded her arms. “I refuse to get into the middle of one of these again.”

“Never gonna take a side, huh?” Eddie said, a teasing glint in his eyes, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close, “I see how it is.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m secretly her favorite,” Jamie said, smirking.

Eddie narrowed his eyes at her. “Okay, I’m going to let that pass once , since you helped us.”

Dani’s brows knitted together. “Helped with what?”

“Jamie helped us get the venue at the gardens,” Eddie said in triumph. “Turns out there was a long waiting list for a fall wedding, but Jamie managed to convince them to get us a slot.”

Dani went still. Feeling her stomach coil uncomfortably and her shoulders going stiff, Dani looked to Jamie and said, “You did?”

“Sure did,” Jamie said, her smirk outright devilish, “Hard to say no to this prat when he came crawling on his hands and knees, begging me to get you lot a spot.”

“That’s - I didn’t do that,” he said to Dani, “I just think she secretly likes me.”

“You and I both know I didn’t do it for you,” Jamie said with a wink in Dani’s direction.

Not knowing what else to say or do, feeling a swell of unease building between her ribs, Dani chuckled weakly and ducked her head.

Eddie laughed softly. “That’s fair,” he said, his hand rubbing her shoulder, “Gonna have to get you a gift basket as thanks.”

Snorting derisively, Jamie said, “I’ll settle for an open bar tab at the reception, thank you very much. But for now, you can start with taking those presents under the tree for me.”

Jamie gestured with an impish grin towards the small stack of presents that still sat on the side table beside them. Rolling his eyes and sighing exasperatedly, Eddie nodded and did as he was told, leaving them in the foyer with one last kiss to Dani’s head and a pointed look towards Jamie. Sending him off with a cheeky salute, Jamie turned back to Dani, her expression softening.

“All right, Poppins?”

“Yeah. Of course,” Dani said, blinking, “Why?”

Jamie shrugged, sinking her hands back in her pockets. “Had that look about you, I suppose,” she said, watching her carefully, “The gardens are what you wanted, yeah? If it isn’t, I’m perfectly happy and willing to go ring his neck.”

“No - it’s fine. It’s perfect,” Dani said, taking a small step closer, “The gardens are perfect.”

Arching an eyebrow, Jamie slowly said, “But?”

Shaking her head lightly, willing away the tight cincture in her chest, Dani said, “No buts. I couldn’t have pictured a more perfect place, to be honest.”

It wasn’t a lie for the most part. In another life, the botanical gardens blooming under the care of Jamie’s hands would have been more than she could have hoped for. In another universe, she would have been happy, she would have been relieved. Autumnal blooms and golden trees and a hand in her own that was smaller but no less calloused. But this was here and now, and Jamie’s discerning eyes were flickering over her quietly, studying Dani as though she could see right through her, and just as Dani felt her pulse quicken, Jamie’s expression softened.

“All right then,” Jamie said, “S’long as you're happy.”

Feeling her breath catch in her chest, her hands twitching to wrap around Jamie’s, one of the twins called out, “Danielle! Are you just gonna hog her yourself all night?”

Chuckling lightly, wrapping her arms loosely around her stomach, Dani felt her cheeks warm. Rolling her eyes, the corner of Jamie’s mouth curled into a smile and nudged her towards the living room. “Fair bit of warning, the kid has something for you,” Jamie murmured.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm. Wants to give it to you tonight instead of tomorrow,” Jamie said, “Been a wee bit shy about it.”

“You two didn’t have to get me anything.”

“He insisted.” Jamie shrugged. “Kid’s a bit mad about the holidays, you saw what he was like on Sunday.”

Dani would be hard pressed to forget. Arriving at the Taylor household that afternoon with hot chocolate and pastries in hand to a house strewn about in wrapping paper and decorations and a bare Christmas tree tucked into the corner waiting to be accessorized. The day had been spent helping the pair decorate the tree and living room with Christmas music to keep them company at Mikey’s insistence. And afterwards they had settled on the couch to watch White Christmas as the blinking tree lights illuminated the room while Dani desperately tried not to drown in the nostalgia with Jamie pressed beside her. By the end, Jamie and Mikey had ended up chasing each other around the house with wrapping paper rolls after a well aimed thwack to Jamie’s head while Dani watched with exasperated fondness while waiting for the tea kettle’s whistle.

“I saw you, too,” Dani said with a teasing smirk, “I see you still have White Christmas memorized.”

Jamie shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “Dunno what you mean.”

“I also happened to see that you and Mikey seem to be matching tonight,” Dani said, taking a peak in the living room where indeed Mikey was also wearing dark slacks, a button up shirt, and suspenders. The only minor difference happened to be that his shirt was dark green and he was wearing a black bow tie that he was currently anxiously pulling at as he sat on the couch between Judy and Mike. Turning back to Jamie, she grinned. “Cute.”

Huffing out a soft laugh, Jamie shook her head. “Wasn’t my idea. He liked my suspenders and wanted one of his own,” she said, “Put my foot down on the bow tie though. Never would’ve heard the end of it.”

Letting her eyes stray briefly to the brown leather strung over Jamie’s shoulders and pressing into her torso, Dani swallowed thickly and said, “It’s sweet that you indulge him like that. With the outfits and just - all of Sunday.”

“Makes him happy," said Jamie simply.

Before Dani could say anything more, faintly aware that she was looking at Jamie with an expression that was too soft, too fond, there was another yell.

“Hey! Don’t make us come over there!”

Twisting around to frown at the source of the sound, she was greeted with the twins looking at her and holding up their hands in an impatient ‘come on’ gesture.

“Okay, why are you two baffoons yelling and why has no one come to get food yet?” Carson said, appearing from the kitchen with a towel slung over his shoulder and a look of exasperation that resembled Judy’s so much that Dani snickered.

At the sound, he turned towards the pair still lingering in the foyer and sighed, shaking his head. “I see what happened now.”

Jamie laughed and let Carson engulf her in a hug. “Not my fault I’m so irresistible,” Jamie said, shooting Dani another wink over Carson’s shoulder. Feeling her cheeks warm, Dani chuckled weakly as Jamie reached up to ruin Carson’s styled hair, but he was quick on his feet and batted her hand away.

“Think your head is getting way too big to pull out your ass,” he grumbled, playfully shoving her away, and then addressed the living room, “Dinner’s ready!”

They were promptly surrounded by O’Mara’s, finally greeting Jamie with hugs and handshakes. Dani watched with a faint smile, her arms still loosely wrapped around her torso, on the cusp of too enamored. Something nudged her arm and she startled slightly, turning to find Carson grinning at her.

“Some help you were,” he teased.

Her heart in her throat, she fumbled for a response but Carson was already stepping away, helping Judy herd the family into the kitchen to get food. Dani lingered near the back, waiting until the kitchen cleared enough for her turn, letting Eddie sweep a hand over her back as he slipped by in a bid to beat his brothers on getting the best pieces of turkey and ham, and shared a commiserating smile and eye roll with Jamie at the bickering and laughter within the kitchen.

At the dining table, by some miraculous chance, Dani managed to find a seat directly across from Jamie and Mikey, sandwiched between Eddie and Carson. With Christmas music still playing from the stereo and everyone digging into their dinner after a short prayer of thanks led by Judy, she fell back into patterns she’d like to think she’d mastered over the past month and a half. To smile at the right time and comment with the appropriate reply whenever addressed. To laugh under her breath at Carson’s murmured commentary and jokes. To drink her wine and eat her dinner, and not let her eyes linger on Jamie across from her. Jamie with strands of unruly dark hair raked across her bright eyes, Jamie with her infectious laugh, Jamie with those suspenders.

Partway through dinner, Dani came to the realization she was failing miserably when beside her Carson downed a whole glass of wine on one go on a dare by Tommy.

“Where on earth did you learn to drink like that?” Judy asked, eyes wide, slightly aghast but unable to hide her own amusement.

“God,” Carson replied with a broad grin when the table laughed.

And like a gravitational pull, Dani’s eyes immediately darted to Jamie’s to find her already looking back. Feeling her stomach twist not unpleasantly at the amused glint in Jamie’s eyes, they shared slow furtive smirks and a fond roll of their eyes. And just like that, Dani had to twist her hands around the napkin in her lap to ground herself.

In between conversations and bites of food, it was getting harder to not let her eyes stray back, to not linger at Jamie’s comfortable, slouched posture. To not watch Jamie laugh again from some comment by Carson gone unheard by Dani, feeling as though she were underwater, feeling something constrict in her chest. Her teeth clenched, Dani promptly drained the rest of her wine.

Beside her, Eddie leaned close and said, “Do you want another?” When she blinked up at him in confusion, he pointed and added, “A glass of wine.”

“Oh, yes. Please,” she said. Eddie smiled and stood to retrieve another bottle of wine from the kitchen.

Across from her, Jamie was pouring more gravy over her plate, and said with a teasing grin, "Looking to let loose tonight for once?”

Dani laughed breathlessly, feeling her cheeks warm. “Don’t get too excited,” she said, “I don’t plan on having a hangover on Christmas morning.”

“Shame,” Jamie said, still grinning at her, and without warning, before Dani could look away, Jamie brought up a finger between her lips to lick at a stray bit of gravy. Sucking in a quiet breath, Dani swallowed thickly and fixed her eyes down to her plate, shoveling in another forkful of food.

When Eddie returned to the dining room with two new bottles of wine in tow, a few seats down on the other side of the table, her mother perked up and said, “Oh, I’ll have another one of those too, if you don’t mind.”

Dani paused, carefully watching as Eddie smiled weakly and popped open a bottle, filling her mother’s glass until Karen was happy with the amount. When her mother waved him off with a murmured comment Dani couldn’t hear from this distance, Eddie muttered something back with another weak smile as Karen took a long swig from her glass. Knuckles white around her fork, Dani only managed to blink her gaze away from her mother when Eddie returned to her side, filling her glass before setting the bottles on the table and returning to his seat without a word, clearing his throat.

It took her longer than she hoped, to let her shoulders and the grip on her fork relax, to reach for her glass and take a long sip. It was a dark peppery red that settled heavily on her tongue. The kind her mother favored. She rested her glass back atop the table, all the while feeling a stare piercing straight into her. Her eyes darting up, Jamie was watching her with a carefully neutral expression. Slowly, Jamie’s eyebrow arched with a faint look of concern and quiet question. Feeling something unspool in her chest, Dani gave her a slow reassuring smile. Staring at her for a moment longer, Jamie’s eyes darted across her face as though searching for something, and then finally she shrugged before returning to her food.

Dinner seemed to pass quicker after that, leading to conversation over empty plates and letting the kids run around the table, dodging teasing hands with bright laughter. Dani’s hands fidgeted under the table, pulling at her fingers and scratching at a hangnail. In an effort to burn off her restless energy and feel useful, she stood and began gathering the nearest plates to take into the kitchen, but as she reached for Carson’s plate, he batted her hands away. He took the plates from her and set them back down on the table.

“No. Nope. Not happening.”

“What do you -?” Dani started to say but she didn’t get far.

“Tommy. David. Eddie,” Carson pointed at his brothers in turn as he called their names. “You’re up.”

The three of them blinked at him in bemusement.

“I mean it!” Carson snapped. “You’re really gonna make Dani and mom do dishes? Or Ash and Liz? Come on. Don’t be assholes.”

“Why does he get to swear in the house?” Eddie asked his mom, when there was no rebuke forthcoming for language.

“Because I like his message,” Judy replied dryly.

With an arm stretched over the back of Mikey’s chair, Jamie snickered and held up her glass of wine. “Cheers,” she said, and took a long swig.

“Why aren’t you making Jamie help, then?” David grumbled, already standing to gather the dishes.

“With all those elbows being thrown around?” Jamie said, “I’d rather not have a black eye for Christmas, thanks.”

“Never took you as a coward.”

“You wanna go there, mate?” Jamie said with a sharp grin. “I have plenty of arsenal to make you regret it.”

With his mouth thinned and eyes narrowed, David thwacked Tommy on the arm to get him to stand. The pair of them grumbled under their breath to the sound of the table chuckling. Eddie quickly followed suit with a roll of his eyes when Carson gave him a pointed glare. Dani watched with a fond grin and when her eyes met Jamie’s again, they shared a snort of laughter.

“Hey, Mikey,” Carson said, “Wanna come help me choose the next tape to play?”

Fiddling anxiously again at his bowtie now that dinner was over, Mikey’s eyes brightened at the offer and he was nodding, already pushing out his seat before Carson could stand. And just like that, the table began to disperse back around the house with happy chatter and glasses of alcohol in hand.

Dani took the opportunity to dart into the downstairs bathroom and draw in a deep, relieved breath with the door finally shut behind her. Her reflection was waiting for her in the mirror, wan and frazzled. Scowling, Dani reached up to fix her hair, to try and make herself feel more grounded at least superficially. In the time it took her to do her business and return to the chaos, Mike had already brought out his camcorder for the night, and The Beach Boys’ Christmas Album was blaring on the stereo. Casting her eyes around the house, not seeing Mikey or Jamie anywhere, Dani exhaled a slow, fortifying breath, and waded out for small talk.

She managed for the most part, discussing work with Ash and Liz and trying her best to remember the plot of the last book she read. Smiling shyly with a small wave whenever Mike panned his camcorder in her direction. Letting Eddie wrap an arm around her shoulders when the boys were done cleaning in the kitchen. Sharing furtive eye rolls with Carson across the room where he stood by the stereo when the three eldest O'Mara boys smiled proudly, as though cleaning was their idea in the first place. Letting her eyes snap towards Jamie when she finally entered the room, following her closely as she made a beeline towards Carson with two bottles of beer in hand.

Suddenly, Eddie’s arm around her felt like an anvil, sinking her into the carpet floor. She felt too exposed under Mike’s camera, and her mother lingering nearby on the couch, flushed and glassy-eyed and far too familiar.

Swallowing thickly, Dani said to Eddie, “I’ll be right back.”

Mid-conversation with Tommy and his wife Liz, Eddie nodded absently and let her slip away quietly. Delving back into the kitchen, she drained her wine and rested the empty glass on the counter. For a long moment, she stared into the glass, seeing her warped reflection, and with a tight jaw, she pulled open the fridge to retrieve a bottle to refill her glass.

Wandering back out into the hallway, she found herself leaning against the wall once more, mustering up the courage to delve back into the living room. Taking a slow sip of her wine, feeling her cheeks warm from the alcohol, she didn’t notice Mikey wandering up to her from down the hallway until he was leaning beside her, scowling down at his bow tie as he pulled and fiddled with it.

She tilted her head to the side and asked gently, “Having trouble?”

His eyes briefly met hers and he shrugged, ducking his head again. “It keeps getting worse,” he grumbled.

Dani chuckled and nudged him in the arm. “Maybe because you keep messing with it.”

With a huff he rolled his eyes and tugged at the fabric again. “Mr. O’Mara showed us how to do it, but it’s not working.”

When he tugged on it again roughly and sagged heavily against the wall, Dani bit back a laugh. “Okay, come on,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder and guiding him back down the hall, “We’re going to fix this.”

His shoulders slumped, Mikey didn’t complain as she led him towards the bathroom, flickering the lights on and grinning fondly at the lines of frustration and disappointment in his face through his reflection, an uncanny mirror image to Jamie.

“Now, I’m more practised in regular ties and doing it backwards, but we’re gonna give it a shot, okay?”

At his quiet nod, Dani squeezed his shoulders and gestured for him to undo his bow tie as she rested her glass on the counter. With his back to her, she reached over his shoulder to adjust the length of the fabric, and asked, “Is this okay?”

He nodded again. She smiled and began to slowly show him the steps with his back to her. Just as he was in class when challenged beyond his level, Mikey was eager to learn, watching the steps through their reflection. It was a little uneven when she was done, but with some adjusting and pulling, she was pleased with it. Leaning closer to get a better look, Mikey grinned broadly at their reflections.

“Thanks, Dani,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” she said, “Now it’s your turn.”

With a heavy sigh, Mikey acquiesced and undid his bow tie. She took it slow, murmuring encouragements in between her instructions as Mikey’s brow furrowed in concentration while following her directions. Just as they were mid-way through, Dani’s voice faltered when through the mirror, a familiar figure appeared and leaned against the open door frame.

“Was wondering where you two went,” Jamie said.

“Mikey was having trouble with his bow tie,” Dani explained.

“I see that.” Jamie smirked at Mikey. “My services weren’t good enough for you, huh?”

Through his faint blush, Mikey scowled. “Not my fault your memory sucks.”

Jamie snorted. “Yet, you’re the one who thought I was cool enough to want to copy and match.”

If anything, Mikey’s cheeks went redder and he crossed his arms, his shoulders bunching. Dani gave Jamie a reproachful look through the mirror, and in response Jamie rolled her eyes with a good natured grin.

“All right, all right,” Jamie said, flapping her hand towards them. “Carry on. I’m not even here.”

Shaking her head, Dani coaxed Mikey out from his hunched form to return to his bowtie, and in no time he was tugging it in place, squared up and neat.

“There you go,” Dani said, patting his shoulder with a proud smile, “Now you look especially handsome.”

Ducking his head, Mikey murmured, “Thanks, Dani.” And then after a long moment, briefly darting his eyes between Dani and Jamie through the mirror, he said, “Can I go now?”

Huffing out a soft breath, Dani nodded. “Yes. Go on, I’m sure Mrs. O’Mara has snacks hidden for you somewhere.”

His eyes brightening, Mikey grinned and made to exit the bathroom, but was pulled to a stop by Jamie slinging an arm around his neck and pulling him close with a smile. “Aw, mate. She called you handsome.”

“Ugh, get off me,” Mikey grumbled, but made no real effort to pull out of her grasp.

Laughing, Jamie lightly ruffled his hair, and said, “How about we do what we had planned first, and then you can go?”

Mikey’s look was dubious. “Now? Here?”

Jamie shrugged. “Why not? No one’s here to see. That was the point, remember?”

Hesitating briefly, his brow knitting where he remained pressed against Jamie’s side, he finally nodded. Dani watched with a patient, soft smile as Jamie let him go and pulled something unseen out of her pocket, hidden behind Mikey’s thin frame. Covertly passing the object in hand to Mikey, Jamie shot Dani a quick wink over his head with a crooked grin.

Mikey’s cheeks were pink as he turned and held out a small navy box towards Dani, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. “Merry Christmas, Dani,” he murmured.

“Thank you, honey,” Dani said, charmed, taking the box. When she opened it, she smiled broadly to find that inside, nestled in foam padding was a Star Trek insignia silver pendant attached to a simple chain necklace. “Oh, it’s perfect,” she breathed.

“I have one too,” Mikey said, visibly pleased over her reaction, “Mine’s a pin, but I left it at home.”

“You should’ve worn it,” Dani said, “Then we’d be matching.”

Mikey’s smile brightened, and he eagerly said, “I’ll wear it tomorrow.”

“You better,” Dani said, pulling the necklace from it’s box, “We’re going to have to one-up Jamie somehow.”

Laughing, Mikey nodded and turned to Jamie, “Now can I go?”

It took Jamie a moment to answer, leaning against the doorframe with her hands in her pockets, expression soft as she watched them. She grinned and nodded, jerking her head towards the hallway. “Yeah, all right. Out of my sight.”

When Mikey disappeared down the hallway after one last pleased grin, Dani held up the necklace pinched between her fingers and said, “Help me?”

Without a word Jamie pushed herself upright and stepped closer. Heart a sudden claxon in her chest, Dani handed her the necklace and turned on the spot, pulling her hair to the side. Through the mirror, she watched as Jamie reached around and placed the chain around her neck, sucking in a quiet breath at the feeling of Jamie’s warm fingers grazing against her skin as she clasped the lock with an expression that was hard to read. An involuntary shiver traveled down Dani’s spine, her jaw aching from how hard she clenched her teeth.

“There you are,” Jamie murmured, and stepped away, digging her hands back in her pockets.

“Thank you,” Dani murmured, adjusting her hair back over her shoulders and setting the pendant straight so that it hung right over the dip of her clavicle.

“No problem,” Jamie said, nodding towards her with her chin, “Won’t believe how popular their merch is. It’s bloody everywhere. Apparently some Captain Clark bloke is from Iowa.”

“Captain Kirk,” Dani corrected and laughed when Jamie shrugged dismissively.

Then Jamie grinned and said, “Fancy keeping me company outside for a smoke? Came to find you to ask.”

“Yeah,” Dani said, nodding, “I’d love to.”

It was not until Jamie sneaked over their coats to the backdoor did Dani realize what she had agreed to. Carson was nowhere in sight to accompany them like she had expected, to act as a buffer to the nerves straining beneath Dani’s skin. But his boots were already set on a nearby mat, and Jamie was shoving them over towards her after handing Dani her coat.

“His boots are too big, I can’t - “

“Don’t think I didn’t see those heels of yours by the front door,” Jamie said, shrugging into her coat with an exasperated grin, “Honestly. You know how to color match, but you still haven’t learned your lesson on weather appropriate clothing?” A slow grin grew on Dani’s face. Seeing this, Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Raising a preteen really rubbed off on you, huh?”

Jamie stared at her for a moment, and then scowled, her cheeks pink. Dani snickered. “Just put the bloody boots on,” Jamie grumbled, and pulled open the back door, letting in a waft of freezing air.

Huffing at the cold air against her legs, she gave Jamie a mild glare who smirked in response. Without any more preamble, Dani shoved her feet in Carson’s oversized boots and slipped on her jacket and scarf before following Jamie outside on the porch. The temperature seemed to have dropped over the course of the night, the air still but bitingly cold. Dani shivered, wrapping her coat closer around herself as she followed Jamie to the railing, but instead of lingering in the overwashed porch light, Jamie grasped her hand and carefully guided her down the icy porch steps.

“Where are we going?” Dani asked, the boots clunky and loose on her feet, but blissfully warm against the solid foot of snow as they trudged through the untouched expanse of white.

“Over here,” Jamie said, her breath a white mist, leading her towards the old shed near the back of the yard with furtive glances behind them to the backdoor, “Promised the kid I’d quit smoking for the New Year. He’s been on my ass about it. I’m going to have to milk the next few days for all they're worth.”

Dani snorted. “Quitting cold turkey, are you?”

“Is there any other way?”

“Gradually? Like a normal person?”

Pulling them around the corner of the shed, hidden away from view of the house where they could still hear the stereo blasting Christmas tunes at an unreasonable volume level through a crack of a window, Jamie leaned against the shed and grinned.

“You know me,” Jamie said, releasing Dani’s hand to pull out a rumpled pack of cigarettes from her pocket, “I’m an all or nothing kinda woman.”

Dani snorted, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the cold. “You’re in a good mood tonight.”

“Good food and free booze, what’s not to love,” Jamie said with a shrug.

“You mean besides hiding behind a shed in case Mikey sees you smoking?”

Rolling her eyes, Jamie didn’t deign to respond. She plucked out a cigarette and placed it between her lips, flicking a flame to life with a plastic lighter. Dani watched, entranced at the glow of orange illuminating her skin in the dark shadows encompassing them. Jamie’s eyes glinting in the light of flame and embers, cheeks sinking inward until she lifted the cigarette away to blow a thin stream of smoke above them with pursed lips. Dani’s heart was still pounding from the bathroom, crashing steadily against her ribs, the burn of Jamie’s hands lingering against the skin of her neck like an ink blot. She darted her eyes away in an effort to not look at Jamie’s lips when she took another drag.

“You know,” Dani started slowly, “I still have your old lighter.” At Jamie’s questioning frown, she added, “The Zippo.”

Jamie blinked at her for a moment, and huffed out a breath of laughter. “Figured you would’ve pawned that.” Jamie said with a shrug, taking another drag, the embers burning bright.

Dani frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because I missed you.”

Jamie stared at her, the air between them abruptly thick. Her stomach whorling uncomfortably, Dani cleared her throat and ducked her head, but then Jamie laughed softly.

“Missed you too, Poppins,” Jamie murmured. When Dani dared to look up again, Jamie's expression was fond as she smiled at her. “Don’t think I told you that before, when you first said so.”

Easily, Dani could recall that day in the alley beside the pharmacy, when things had still felt so fragile between them like a house of cards stacked in her palms. And then the Sunday after that, and the Sunday after that. Smiling faintly, Dani murmured, “You didn’t have to.”

“Well, now you know at least,” Jamie said, taking another pull at the cigarette, and nodded towards Dani with her chin. “Don’t think I mentioned before either,” she continued through a plume of smoke she directed away from Dani, motioning her hands towards her, “Your outfit. Looks nice tonight.”

Dani’s cheeks warmed and she bit back a broad smile. “Thank you,” she said, and stumbled for a reply. “You - um. You look nice too.”

“Thanks.” Jamie slouched against the shed, her smile veering into a smirk as though she already knew this for a fact. “It’s the suspenders, yeah?”

“Um - “ Dani fumbled. “I suppose.”

“Gonna have to wear it more often, then.”

Dani nodded in lieu of a verbal reply, not trusting whatever she might say, praying that the shed shrouded them in enough darkness from porch light to not display the heat spreading across her cheeks.

At that moment, the music from the house blared louder than before, Wham!’s Last Christmas booming through the open window. They both listened with amusement as complaints immediately followed.

“Carson, turn it down!” bellowed Eddie just as David complained, “I can’t hear myself think!”

“With what brain?” Carson rebuked.

“Do you want us to break mom’s rule, because we will!”

“Suck it up!”

Dani met Jamie’s eyes and they both snickered with laughter. The volume in the end did not turn down, forgotten in the midst of continued bickering. Grinning broadly, Jamie lifted the cigarette to her mouth and Dani’s eyes drifted down to watch. When she expelled the smoke to the side, Dani held out her hand.

Huffing lightly with a small shake of her head, Jamie gamely handed Dani the cigarette. “Y’know,” Jamie said as Dani eyed the red stained filter for a moment and took a slow, careful drag, “Could always just have one of your own.”

Coughing lightly, Dani blew out a plume of smoke. “Then that would make me a smoker.”

Jamie rolled her eyes, but when Dani made to hand it back, she shook her head. “Keep it,” she said, “Might be the last you ever have once I quit.”

“Feeling confident, huh?”

“When there’s a promise on the line, sure.”

Smiling warmly, Dani flicked off the ash into the snow, running a thumb over the filter. A thrill ran through her, a shiver coursing down her spine so that she huddled further into herself, feeling the cold bite at her ears and nose and exposed legs.

Chuckling lightly, Jamie said, “Christ, look at the state of you.” She pushed off the shed and held out a hand. “C’mere.”

Dani froze. “What?”

“Put that out and come here,” Jamie said, “You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine.”

Jamie gave her a long dubious look. Clenching her jaw, Dani shifted her weight anxiously on her feet. “Are you sure?”

“Dani.”

“Okay,” Dani said, taking another long, fortifying pull of the cigarette before flicking it in the snow, expelling the smoke through her nose.

Her stomach coiling with nerves, Dani took Jamie’s proffered hand and let herself be pulled closer until they were pressed together in a hug. “That’s better,” Jamie murmured, running her hand up and down Dani’s back, “Warm yourself up.”

Slowly wrapping her arms around Jamie’s waist as though any sudden movement might break the spell, Dani nodded, her heart feeling as though it threatened to burst through her sternum. It was no different than any of their hugs, no different than the long lingering embraces at Jamie’s front door. But the wine had her skin straining and her head buzzing, and worse, she was surrounded by the scent of sandalwood and smoke. Her breath a plume of white in a soft sigh, Dani’s eyes slowly slipped shut and she burrowed further in Jamie’s warmth, pressing her nose into her worn scarf and inadvertently grazed the skin of Jamie’s neck.

Jamie’s arms stilled, her breath catching lightly. “Cold,” she murmured.

A thrill going down her spine at the heat of Jamie’s skin against her nose, Dani said, “Sorry.”

Jamie didn’t reply, unmoving as she held Dani. Frowning lightly, Dani opened her mouth to say something, to say anything, when a familiar jazzy tune drifted from the house.

Huffing a soft laugh, Jamie murmured, “Figures.”

And before Dani could react, Jamie was rearranging their arms. Dani’s breath caught quietly as Jamie rested one of Dani’s hands on her shoulder and took the other to clasp their palms, and then slowly, as though waiting for Dani to stop her, to push her away, she slipped her hand around Dani’s waist. And with Ella Fitzergerald’s rendition of White Christmas accompanying them, Jamie began to sway with her on the spot.

“There we go,” Jamie murmured, their temples pressed together, her breath a hot wisp against Dani’s ear and neck.

Swallowing thickly, her heart threatening to burst through her chest, there was a feeling washing over Dani like a haze, as though the world had narrowed down to just them, in this dark corner in the snow with only the distant porch light and the moon to illuminate them. She pressed her eyes closed and drew in a soft breath, the air bitingly cold as she inhaled, feeling dizzy and enchanted all at once.

“This is nice,” Dani murmured, broaching the long quiet as they swayed.

Jamie hummed softly. “Yeah,” she said. “Was thinking. You could come over again before the New Years. Could watch White Christmas again and pretend we’ve never seen it before. Give Mikey a taste of his own medicine.”

Dani chuckled, and bit her lip at the near imperceptible feeling of Jamie pulling her closer by the waist. “I’d love to,” Dani said.

And before she knew what she was doing, Dani was pressing closer. Wrapping her hand further around Jamie’s shoulders, fingers tangling in strands of curly hair, grazing the back of Jamie’s neck. Ducking her head to bury into the crook of Jamie’s shoulder, nose and mouth pressed against the skin of her throat, making a small sound of contentment.

Jamie sucked in a sharp breath, their swaying faltering for half a heartbeat, and she audibly swallowed hard. Dani’s eyes slowly drifted open, lost in the darkness of the crook of Jamie's neck, straining her ears, feeling Jamie’s hand on her waist dig into the fabric of her coat. They were swaying again, but with Jamie’s pulse a sudden rapid flutter beneath Dani’s nose and lips, she felt as though she was veering over a vast precipice, her stomach dropping at the sensation. Trying to remember how to breathe, Dani slowly lifted her head, smoothing her hand over Jamie’s rigid shoulders and back, gripping Jamie’s hand tight.

Dani opened her mouth to speak, to broach the lingering silence, but the air was still around them, particles of snow drifting so slowly they might as well be fixed motionless where they hovered, and with one word spoken, one wrong movement, the spell between them would be broken. The world moving again, expanding beyond the single point where they clung to each other, pushing them apart.

Exhaling a soft trembling breath, Dani gradually pulled further back until she could finally see Jamie’s face. Gray eyes dark and stormy, expression carefully blank, Jamie met her gaze and the corner of her mouth lifted into a faint, barely there curve. Dani lingered on it, on the scar there painted red and outlined in faint light. It would be so easy to push back in, and press her lips there. To taste Jamie’s mouth of wine and cigarettes, and feel that scar beneath her own mouth and tongue. Dani bit her own lip and watched Jamie’s jaw go taut, the muscle leaping beneath her skin.

Her eyes darted up and met Jamie’s, darker than before, unblinking as they were piercing, and then Dani sucked in a quiet breath when gray eyes slowly traced down over Dani to where they were pressed together before traveling back up, lingering on Dani’s mouth for a long moment before catching Dani’s gaze again.

Dani swallowed hard, her breath caught in her throat, not daring to believe, not daring to hope. A flash of something unreadable crossed over Jamie’s expression like a red flare in the dark, the scratch of a matchstick, a flicker in the strained lines of her face. And in a moment it was gone, in its wake something unreachable and blank.

She couldn’t have been imagining it. The same heat that flared between her ribs and thighs reflected back at her through Jamie’s eyes. The same adoration she’d come to know like the back of her hand since they were children.

The song was ending, transitioning easily to some other tune Dani couldn’t be bothered to name, when it was abruptly cut off to the immediate sound of muffled complaints and bickering. The silence that followed between them was suddenly and unbearably thick.

“Jamie - “

“We should head inside,” Jamie murmured, “They’ll be wondering where we are.”

They still stood so close that Dani could see the shadow of her eyelashes and the flecks in her eyes. The music returned to a chorus of cheers, the volume at a more reasonable level. Slowly, Dani braved another smile and eased closer, knocking their foreheads together. “One more song?”

Stiffening for a moment, Jamie huffed and said. “You’ll be the death of yourself. Your hand is freezing.”

“I can handle it,” Dani said, keeping the ‘with you,’ locked away behind her teeth.

Jamie seemed to have heard it anyway, for she sighed slowly and muttered, “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Dance with me?”

Choking out a thin laugh, Jamie pulled away. “Not when you’re bloody shaking like a leaf,” she said, “C’mon. Back inside with you.”

Disappointment gripping at her chest, Dani felt her face fall as Jamie took a full step back that seemed to feel like a vast canyon for how close they were pressed together before. Dani missed the warmth of her arms immediately, but then Jamie was arching an eyebrow at her.

“Unless you want Judy to come bursting out here wondering what we’re doing,” she said, a teasing curve tucked into the corner of her grin. “Or worse: Ed.”

Stones sunk in the pit of Dani’s stomach, and suddenly reality pressed on her eardrums like a rush of wind. “Right,” Dani choked out, smiling weakly.

She followed Jamie back inside, breathing in relief in the warmth of the house, shedding her jacket and Carson’s boots. Beside her, Jamie exhaled softly and handed over her jacket when Dani held her hand out, a sharp line to her jaw, not meeting Dani’s eyes.

“Just gonna head to the loo,” she muttered. She glanced towards Dani, who nodded, mildly bewildered at the sudden change in disposition. Jamie jerked her head in a short nod and spun on her heel out the kitchen.

A furrow to her brow, Dani followed a few paces behind through the hallway, the front door closet in the same direction, but when she turned the corner, she bumped directly into a broad frame.

“Oh -!”

She almost teetered off balance, but hands immediately grasped her waist to steady her and she looked up to find Eddie grinning broadly at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Suddenly behind her there was a cacophonous noise of cheering and laughter. Twisting around, her eyes went wide in surprise to find Mike’s camcorder pointed in their direction and half of the family watching them with enthusiasm from the living room.

“I cannot believe that worked,” said Tommy, laughing as he spoke.

“Huh?” Dani said dumbly.

“Look up, honey,” Judy said, holding up a point-and-shoot camera at the ready, her eyes bright with fond amusement. Beside her, Carson chuckled, but couldn’t hide his wince of sympathy.

Dread pooling in her stomach, Dani slowly looked up as though awaiting some hungry creature to jump out from the shadows and bite her, but instead she found a mistletoe dangling from the light fixture above her.

“Oh,” Dani said, a small anxious laugh bursting out of her.

And before she could stop herself, she slowly turned and immediately met Jamie’s eyes, watching her with an eerily neutral expression, frozen as though mid step. Rooted to the floor, her heart crashing against her ribs, Dani watched with bated breath as Jamie blinked, and then without a word, disappeared around the corner.

Her throat feeling thick, her stomach churning, Dani turned back to meet Eddie’s grin with a weak one of her own. His hands affectionately squeezed her waist lightly, and all it once it felt utterly wrong. But there was goading and teasing coming from the living room, muffled as though Dani’s ears needed to be popped. With another awkward chuckle, feeling something crushing her chest, her throat thick, she stood on her toes and kissed Eddie’s bashful smile. She ignored the good-natured wolf whistles and cheering and the audible click and flash of a camera.

“I want a copy of that,” Dani heard her mother say in a happy slur when she pulled back, ducking her head away to hide the guilt and indignation gnawing at her, hoping it’d come across as demure. Eddie laughed and hugged her.

It felt increasingly harder to breathe, afterwards. Clutching at a fresh glass of wine after downing her last in one go after finally escaping the clamor to return hers and Jamie’s jackets in the closet. Struggling to push down the thought of how much she had wanted to bury her nose back into Jamie’s jacket, just to breathe her in one last time. Struggling to not grit her teeth at the Christmas music that was beginning to grate on her ears. Struggling to not let her eyes wander when Jamie finally returned to the festivities, her shirt sleeves folded up neatly, exposing the lean lines of her forearms.

She had almost expected the world to settle back on its axis, since returning from outside. With the way Jamie didn’t approach her again throughout the rest of the night, with every corner Dani turned, Jamie would be five steps ahead as though she was just as unwilling as Dani to broach whatever had happened outside. Even still, Dani felt eyes on her. And as though sucked in by a gravity well, Dani kept glancing back, meeting gray eyes that seemed warm and dark in equal measure. And every time their eyes would meet, Jamie would hold her stare until Dani felt rooted to the spot, her feet melding to the floor like just another fixture.

Dani was leaning against the wall, nursing her broad-bowled glass while in the middle of a group conversation with a small cluster of the family when it happened again. The dark form of Jamie slipping by to hover near Carson by the stereo, leaning against a bookcase with a beer in hand and catching her eyes once again. And instead of another faint grin or an arch of an eyebrow, Jamie’s eyes slowly scanned her up and down, lingering on the hem of her skirt before meeting her gaze again and turning away.

Swallowing hard, Dani brought the lip of her glass to her mouth and drifted her eyes down again to those suspenders, lingering there for a long moment before settling back on Jamie’s forearms. She wondered faintly, what Jamie’s forearm would look like if her hand were to slip beneath Dani’s skirt and between her thighs, how the leather of her suspenders would feel in her hands if Dani were to grip them for leverage. Feeling an ache between her legs in response and her breath catching at just the thought alone, Dani clenched her teeth and stood upright to make her excuses to the bathroom when there was the sound of glass shattering from the kitchen.

Dani started slightly, blinking in surprise. On the other side of the room, Carson groaned. “All right, which one of you idiots was it,” he said, but when he turned around to find all three of his older brothers in the living room, he paused. “Oh.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry, Judy,” came Karen’s voice.

“It’s all right, honey,” said Judy gently, “Watch your feet, there’s glass everywhere.”

The air in the living room abruptly went thick and quiet and suffocating. Feeling her stomach drop, Dani exhaled quietly and started towards the kitchen. She slowed when she was greeted with a pool of wine on the linoleum floor, red as blood, fresh-spilt, shattered pieces of glass everywhere. Jaw taut, Dani looked up to find her mother hunched over in one of the kitchen table chairs, rubbing at her forehead. Just as Dani felt another presence at her side, Judy looked up from where she was gathering the larger pieces of glass and offered Dani a reassuring grin.

“Just an accident, honey. Not our first spill of the night,” Judy said, and then added, “Boys, could you get the mop and broom, please?”

There was movement behind her, but Dani couldn’t be bothered to check, feeling a strain pressing at her shoulders. She slowly edged her way further into the kitchen, carefully skirting around the mess and Judy’s warnings.

“Danielle, be careful.”

She nodded faintly, easing closer to her mom, her throat feeling thick. There was movement again behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder to find Mike and Carson helping Judy with cleaning supplies in hand. Lingering by the entranceway, Dani found both Eddie and Jamie. Eddie with his hands tucked inside his pockets, an apprehensive hunch to his shoulders as he took in the scene. And Jamie with a concerned frown. Swallowing down the swell of acidic shame building in her throat, Dani turned away and moved closer to Karen.

Her eyes were closed, hidden beneath her hand, glasses abandoned on the table where she rested heavily on her elbow. “Mom?” Dani murmured, carefully reaching out a hand to rest on her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Karen said sharply, “Just an accident.” She then looked up, her eyes glassy, her jaw clenched. “Judy, it’s fine. Let me help. I can fix it."

She made to stand, but Judy firmly shook her head. “You stay right there,” she said, emptying a dustpan full of glass in the garbage, and gestured where Carson and Mike were near finishing cleaning up, “See? We’re almost done. No harm, no foul.”

Karen exhaled and shook her head with a grimace. “I’m sorry. I - “

“Now, none of that,” Judy said sternly, “It’s Christmas. Accidents happen.”

Her expression darkening into a scowl, Karen shook her head again and mumbled something under her breath. Jaw aching from how hard she was clenching her teeth, Dani gently squeezed her shoulder. “Let me walk you home.”

“I’m fine,” Karen repeated.

Dani stared at her for a long moment, scanning over the exhausted and weary lines of her mothers face. The phases of her mother’s inebriation were as constant as the moon; Dani knew them all by heart. “You need some sleep,” Dani murmured, “Let me take you home.”

Karen scoffed, and said darkly, “Why? So you can lord it over me?” She shrugged off Dani’s hand. “I can take care of myself. I don’t need you, Danielle.”

“Karen,” Judy said behind her.

The Christmas music was a ringing in Dani’s ears, the sound feeling utterly like one big joke as her head swam from her own indulgence of wine. Dani pushed it down — the indignation and resentment — pushed it all away and leaned closer to murmur, “I just want you to feel better. That’s all.” Her mother remained quiet, not meeting her eyes. A thick lump appeared in Dani’s throat. “Please let me take care of you?”

There was a long moment of quiet as her mother rubbed at her forehead, and finally sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Fine,” she breathed, exhausted.

Dani nodded and made to help her mother stand, grasping her arm. Eddie finally stepped closer, eyes darting between them. “She can have my old room,” he started carefully, almost hesitant, “If she’d like.”

Shaking her head, Dani murmured, “It’s fine.”

“You sure?” Eddie said softly.

“Yes, can you just - “ She stopped short, irritation bleeding in her tone. She drew in a deep breath, and repeated more calmly, “It’s fine. I’ve got her.”

Eddie hesitated, opening his mouth as though he wanted to say something more, but to Dani’s relief, he just nodded and stepped aside.

Her mother clung to her arm in a painful grip as Dani led them towards the foyer. She tried not to wince, tried to ignore the various gazes of the O’Mara clan in the shape of concern and morbid curiosity, tried to duck her head enough to hide the red in her cheeks as her mother staggered beside her. But when she reached the foyer, she looked up and blinked in surprise to find Jamie there in her coat and boots with two jackets slung over her arms, that old scarf wrapped around her neck.

“What are you - ?”

Jamie shrugged. “Figured you’d need the help,” she said simply.

“Are you sure?” Eddie said from beside her. Dani tensed at the sound of his voice. “I’d be happy to come along.”

Quietly, Jamie looked at Dani with a questioning arched eyebrow and patiently waited. Swallowing hard past the thickness in her throat, Dani murmured, “I've got it, Eddie.”

With a thin, conceding smile, Eddie nodded. Though there was a thin veneer of relief in his expression, Eddie still gamely assisted with letting Karen grip his arm for balance while she slipped on her shoes after muttering darkly, “Get up from the floor, Danielle,” when Dani had crouched to assist her.

Head ducked, running a trembling hand through her hair, Dani slipped on her own heels, only vaguely paying attention to Eddie awkwardly holding her mother’s jacket out. “Uh - “ he started “ - is it okay, Mrs. Clayton, if I, uh -?”

Remarkably, Karen breathed out a quiet laugh that grated on Dani’s ears. “Always were a polite boy,” was all she said.

When Dani looked up again, she found Jamie watching her with a shadow of worry in her expression. Without a word, Jamie held up Dani’s jacket. Forcing out a thin smile, Dani turned and let Jamie help her slip into it, pulling it close around her.

“All good?” Jamie murmured quietly behind her.

Dani nodded, exhaling slowly. Just as she was about to turn around, Carson approached them.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “Anything I can do to help?”

Pulling her lips between her teeth in careful consideration, Dani’s eyes darted over his shoulder towards the living room that was still marginally quieter than it had been all night. Following her gaze, Carson glanced in that direction and then gave her an understanding smile.

“I got it,” he said, pulling her in his arms for a firm hug, “I’ll take care of it.”

Dani nodded, holding him tight and feeling him reciprocate until she could almost feel her bones creak and her throat grow thick. When she slowly pulled away, she felt him give her a warm kiss to her forehead. “Love you,” he murmured.

“Love you too,” Dani said faintly, unable to meet his eyes.

Desperate to leave, desperate to feel the cold against her cheeks again to fight off the humiliation and the burn in her eyes, luck was not in her favor, for Judy was the next to approach her with a look of quiet affection Dani wasn’t sure she deserved.

Dani said, “I’m-I’m sorry, Judy, I’m - “

Judy cupped her cheeks and gave her a look that brooked no room for argument. “You head on home, and get the both of you to bed, all right?” she said, “I want you both bright eyed and ready for another day.” At a loss for words, Dani nodded and let Judy pull her into a hug. “Goodnight, sweet heart.”

“Goodnight,” Dani murmured, her shoulders stiff under Judy’s arms.

Dani was unable to meet her eyes when she was finally let go, turning on the spot where the others were waiting for her. “Let’s go,” Dani mumbled to Jamie, who jerked her head in a single nod, and swung open the door. Offering Eddie a frail smile when he handed her Karen’s glasses, she slipped it in her pocket and let him kiss her head before she wrapped an arm around her mother’s shoulders to guide her outside. “Come on, mom. Let’s go.”

The cold against Dani’s skin was welcomed, biting at her ears and nose in a distracting way. Jamie was already waiting by the porch steps, a hand held out in case Dani or Karen lost their balance. She remained close by as they carefully stepped down the walkway that was now covered in a thin layer of snow, but when they reached the sidewalk, Jamie trudged ahead, kicking at the snowbank separating them from the street to make a path.

Her mother shivered and grumbled under her breath as they carefully stepped through. Dani absently rubbed at her mother’s shoulder to ward away the cold, keeping a close grip on her. When they finally made it across the street up the walkway towards her childhood house, Dani dug her free hand in her jacket pocket and pulled out a set of keys.

“Get the door?” Dani said to Jamie.

With a nod, Jamie took the keys but remained close until they reached the porch with a faint furrow to her brow. It was by some miracle that they hadn’t slipped once during the entire journey.

As Jamie unlocked the front door, keys jingling, the lock clicking open, Karen huffed. “Is she coming inside?”

“Yes,” Dani said firmly, not bothering to check for Jamie’s reaction as she guided her mother through the doorway.

With the door shut behind them, Dani sighed quietly in the darkness of the house and listened as Jamie shoved her boots off, already stumbling around to flick on the lights. The house was cold and quiet and void of any decorations to speak of. Lying in wait for the return of its ghosts. Not in the least bit surprised, Dani shed her coat and shoes, and kept a close hand on her mother as she did the same, swaying off balance as she did so.

“Need help with the stairs?” Jamie asked softly, broaching the quiet.

Karen scoffed wordlessly. Not meeting Jamie’s eyes, Dani shook her head. “No."

Jamie didn’t reply, and Dani didn’t look to see her expression. Instead she took her mom’s waist and led her towards the stairs. It was tricky, as it always was. But Dani was an old hand by now, climbing the stairs, bearing most of her mother’s weight, her labored breath in Dani’s ears. But for the first time, Jamie was a constant presence at her back, and when they stumbled halfway up, Dani felt the press of a warm hand at her lower back, burning through her blouse and keeping her balanced upright. Just the feeling alone cast another shadow of shame over her, burning her cheeks.

Her mother’s bedroom, as it always did, smelled of cigarettes and cheap floral perfume as though that would mask the smell. Karen let out a long sigh when they shuffled inside and pushed out of Dani’s grasp as soon as they neared the bed to sit heavily on the edge of it. The light from the bedside lamps, even as warm as they were, cast her mother’s face in an eerie glow. Her head tilted slightly, Dani could almost see wrinkles there that she had never seen before.

Behind her, Jamie softly cleared her throat. Startlingly slightly, Dani turned and blinked at her, finding her standing at the threshold of her mother’s room with her hands in the pockets of her bulky jacket, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“You need anything?” Jamie said with a faint frown towards Karen before meeting Dani’s eyes.

It took Dani a moment to answer, but she finally cleared her throat and nodded. “Just um - ” she fumbled “ - uh.”

Smiling gently, a reassuring look that briefly unspooled something in Dani’s chest. “Don’t worry,” Jamie murmured, “Be right back.”

Disappearing down the hall, audibly retreating downstairs, Dani was left to the realization that she was now alone with her mother. The stone that had sunk to the pit of her stomach seemed to painfully twist and deform.

Pushing it down and away, Dani set to work. Retrieving a damp washcloth for her mother to wipe the night’s grime from face. Setting up the bed behind her. Removing jewelry as though on autopilot. Gold rings. A fake pearl necklace. Small stud earrings.

She was setting them away at her mother’s vanity when at that moment, Dani heard footsteps in the hall. Clearing her throat, she stood upright and started towards the door where Jamie met her, a tall glass of water and a small bottle of painkillers in her hands. Instead of handing it over to Dani, she seemed to freeze on the spot, her eyes darting over Dani’s face with a discerning frown. Desperately, Dani gave her a reassuring smile, feeling her cheeks strain.

When Jamie merely arched an eyebrow, Dani murmured, “I’ve got it.”

She looked at her for another moment longer, and then finally exhaled, handing over the supplies. “I’ll wait outside,” Jamie said softly, and when Dani nodded, she grasped Dani’s free hand before she could step away.

Jamie’s hand was warm, as they always were. Her eyes were soft and understanding, her mouth curving into a faint smile. Dani slowly exhaled, allowing the comfort for only a moment, before squeezing Jamie’s hand and letting go. Throat bobbing, sending Karen one last cursory glance, Jamie nodded and retreated downstairs.

“That man of yours,” Karen said behind her, and Dani's spine immediately went taut, “you have a good one, you know?”

A strain was starting to travel up the back of Dani’s neck, a throbbing twinge verging on a headache. She gritted her teeth and turned to attend to her mother who had remained hunched over on the bed. Dani handed her the water in a silent order to drink, setting the painkillers aside to return to work. And all the while, Karen mumbled in between sips.

“You don’t find those very often anymore. Your grandfather wasn’t one,” Karen said, chuckling darkly, a lost look in her eyes, “But your father. He was a good man. Better than I could have ever hoped for. He insisted - he insisted we marry. All because of you. And God I hated him for it.”

Dani froze, feeling something cold wash over her, but she was quick to continue, biting against the tremble of her chin, the ache in her chest, as she pulled bobby pins from her mother’s hair, smoothing out the blonde waves with trembling fingers.

Karen laughed again. “If I have one advice to give you, Danielle,” she started as Dani robotically took the empty glass to set aside and coaxed her mother under the covers, “Don’t hate him for loving you. Otherwise you’ll end up like me. Alone and with a daughter who can barely stand to look at you.”

“Okay, mom,” Dani choked out weakly, a crack in her voice, pulling the covers over her mother’s shoulder as she curled on her side with her eyes closed.

And before she could move away, Karen reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her close to sit beside her. “You’re happy, aren’t you?” Karen asked, looking up at her through heavy-lidded eyes, both exhausted and piercing all at once. “Are you happy?”

Feeling a burning in her eyes, Dani sucked in a trembling breath and nodded. “Yeah,” she breathed, hastily wiping at her cheeks, “Yeah, mom. I’m happy.”

Her mother blinked up at her for another long moment, and then without another word, twisted away. An unbearable ache in her chest, Dani stood on wobbly legs and made a swift exit, her fists clenched at her side. She turned off the lights and shut the door behind her, leaning against the wood to press her hands to her eyes. Rubbing away the burning and the unfallen tears until she could see stars behind her eyelids, until she could breathe properly again.

It took a long time to feel normal again. Splashing cold water against her cheeks to wash away the sting of her mother’s words. Downing a glass of water of her own in the kitchen, as if she could drown in it. A long time to feel like she could face Jamie again and pretend the last half hour never happened. Tucking it all away until all that was left was this shiny, hollow veneer. Sucking in a deep breath, she pushed her feet into a pair of reasonable boots, and pulled open the front door.

Outside Jamie was fiddling with the keys to her truck. They jangled with a metallic clatter. The scarf was hanging around her neck like a stole nearly down to her knees. Her cheeks were bright and pink with cold, as was the tip of her nose.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” Dani said, shutting the door behind her so that they stood alone on the illuminated front stoop of her childhood house.

“Yeah, but I wanted to.” Jamie shot her a grin, which quickly faded. “Your mum all right?”

With a sigh, Dani raked her hair away from her face with one hand, the other tucked beneath her opposite arm in an attempt to ward off the chill. “Probably not,” she said. “But there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“Not your responsibility.”

“Then whose is it?”

“Don’t care. Fuck her.”

Dani gave a huff of laughter. Less because it was funny, and more because it was surprising. Jamie’s crass candor never failed to hit its mark. Arms wrapped around herself and shivering slightly, Dani shook her head.

“Don’t shake your head like I’m wrong,” Jamie said. “Because I’m not. Fuck her. You deserve better. Always have.”

It felt too much like a scene from ten years ago. Jamie, here. Jamie, looking at her like this. Jamie, fiddling with her keys for want of movement. Jamie, all square-jawed and imploring gray eyes. They might as well have been sixteen again.

Dani made an abortive motion, wanting to reach out, to grasp Jamie’s arm, to ground herself in the present, but she stopped before she could get halfway, clenching her fist back to her side and frowning down at their shoes angled in the snow. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head and laughing softly.

Jamie stared at her. “What for?”

“I don’t know. I don’t – Everything. I’m sorry that you had to help me drag her over here on Christmas. You have enough going on. You didn’t need to do this.”

“Well, if it wasn’t me,” said Jamie. “Then it would’ve been Ed.”

Dani did not reply.

“Right?” Jamie asked, incredulous. “Please, tell me he helps you with this shit.”

“He –“ Dani cleared her throat and glanced over her shoulder as though afraid the door might have opened, as though afraid her mother had been faking the whole thing and would be standing there, listening. “He does. More often than I’d like, to be honest.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Scuffing her heeled shoe against the snow on the front step, Dani said, “I don’t like letting her ruin everything. I don’t want her making things harder.”

“Harder than what?”

Dani shook her head, her arms tightening around her middle and her eyes squeezing shut. She couldn’t say that being with Eddie was an exercise in precarious balance, in the breathtaking knife’s edge upon which every aspect of her life was hung. She couldn’t say that every day she woke up awash in the fear that today would be the day it all fell apart, one thing too many, one little piece out of place. She couldn’t say that because saying it aloud would make it real, because saying it aloud would mean no going back, because all she had was forward. One step after another. Always forward.

Clink of the keys, and Jamie’s voice was a careful thing. “Way I see it,” she said. “Things can’t be any harder than they are. Only different.”

Dani laughed weakly and looked up. “If only that were true.”

Jamie was watching her with a steady gaze. “You can tell me, you know. Whatever it is. You can tell me. I won’t care.”

Dani’s mouth was dry. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip, and she whispered, “You will.”

Jamie’s eyes dropped to Dani’s mouth, following the movement, and Dani felt a warm tug low in her stomach. A thin thread of something unseen and electric tethered them in place, and then the rhythmic twirl of the keys around Jamie’s fingers went off kilter for just a moment, sending them spinning off over the railing and into the snow bank.

“Shit,” Jamie muttered. She turned and descended the few steps to trample around in the snow, calf-deep, looking for her keys.

Blinking away the coil of heat in her gut, Dani shook her head slightly and went to join her. “Did you see where they went?”

“No,” Jamie said, leaning on her knees and sweeping through the snow with her bare hands, half-crouched so that her scarf dangled and dragged across the bank. “Fuck. Do you have that spare set I gave you?”

“You only gave me a spare house key. Not one for your truck.”

“Shit.”

“Don’t worry. Eddie and I can drive you home, if it comes down to it.”

The snow melted and clung to the skin-toned nylon stockings against Dani’s legs. She scrunched up her nose and shivered, the two of them alternatively sweeping their ankles or wrists through the drift, hoping to hear the tell-tale clink of metal. After a minute or two of them being out of view of the front door, the outdoor light automatically switched off, plunging them into the shadow of the house, which leaned over them like a spectre through the night, blotting out the stars in a jagged silhouette.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Jamie muttered.

She was still crouched over. A length of silvery chain glinted as it slipped free from her shirt and a familiar necklace swung from her neck. Dani went very still, gaze fixed upon it.

It was a silver half-dollar piece. Dani could remember piercing it in Judy’s garage, Mike guiding her hand around the drill bit. Except the chain was different now. Longer than she remembered, and a more expensive material than whatever she could have afforded at the age of twelve.

As if watching herself in a dream, Dani reached out. Jamie froze as Dani’s fingers curled around the chain and gently tugged her upright. Jamie followed slowly, eyes unmoving from Dani. Rubbing the coin between thumb and forefinger, Dani traced the effaced imagery, faded as though from years of being worried in just this fashion.

“You kept this?” she asked, her voice sounding too loud in the quiet darkness of this moment, this brief chamber of the world.

Jamie nodded. Her eyes were dark and indistinguishable, her expression veiled, but there was no mistaking the catch of breath in her throat when Dani’s grip made the chain tug softly at the back of Jamie’s neck. Dani stared, afraid to exhale, afraid to blink, afraid to somehow break this scene, as though they were tethered together by a string of brittle moonlit glass caught in her fist.

There was the gentle drift of snow through the air, grayed flecks falling from the night sky and catching in Jamie’s wild curls like a net of stars. Dani only meant to let the necklace go, but they stood so close together that the furl of her fingers brushed against the corner of Jamie’s collarbone through the unbuttoned gap in her shirt. Jamie’s mouth dropped open to suck in a sharp breath, but she said nothing. Swallowing thickly, Dani dared to let her fingertips trace the hollow of Jamie’s throat, slipping between warm skin and cold chain. The trembling ghost of a touch.

The pulse at Jamie’s throat leapt beneath her thumb. Dani wanted to replace her thumb with her mouth, test Jamie’s heartbeat with her tongue. She wanted to slide her hand to the back of Jamie’s neck and tug her back against the brick cladding, hidden from sight. She wanted — and wanted —

Dani let her hand splay out against Jamie’s sternum. She pushed gently, a steady pressure, maintaining contact, so that she could feel the thud of Jamie’s chest beneath her palm.

“You should -” Dani rasped, “You should take Mikey home. It’s late.”

Jamie nodded. “Yeah,” she breathed. Before Dani could drop her hand however, Jamie covered it with her own, holding it in place. The circle of silver warmed beneath Dani’s hand, and Jamie said, “Wait.”

“What is it?” Her eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness, and Dani could just make out the curve of Jamie’s smile.

“I still need to find my keys,” Jamie said.

Dani blinked and then snorted with sudden laughter. Jamie squeezed her fingers, grinning, still keeping Dani’s hand against her chest in a loose grip.

“Right,” Dani said. “Right. Yeah. I’ll get the light.”

Jamie hummed in agreement. Then she lifted Dani’s hand and bowed her head. Dani watched in abject fascination, not trusting herself to breathe, as Jamie pressed a warm chaste kiss to the peak of Dani’s knuckles before — finally — letting her go.

Dani stumbled up the steps and through the front door. She had to pause in the open doorway leading into the ink-darkened house. There were the shadows of furniture throughout, vague shapes like owl-eyed creatures through the treeline. Dani leaned back against the wall just inside, holding the door slightly shut, trying to give herself space to breathe. Her hand was clenched into a fist. She swore she could still feel the press of Jamie’s mouth against her fingers. Or perhaps that was the shiver of the cold night air.

Flexing her hand, Dani let her head tilt back against the wall. Then, straightening herself with a deep breath, she flicked on the outdoor light and — braced against the chill — stepped out into the cold once more.

#thobm #the haunting bly manor #bring home a haunting #dani clayton/jamie #damie #roman writes #saw the wordcount and thought to myself #'gosh that's finally a reasonable wordcount for once'#as if 20k is a reasonable wordcoutn for a chapter #shoot me

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years

Text

buried in your bones | b.b.

summary: “Promise you’ll love me always.”

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, blood, violence, swearing, drinking, magic and therefore magic haters pairing: king!bucky x queen!reader word count: 11.1k

a/n: inspired by hurricane by fleurie. i recommend listening to it for proper vibes :) written for @serpienten and @buckysknifecollection. i had the prompt king/queen au and a dialogue prompt that is bolded. sorry this took so long! am still working through some killer writer’s block :( but enjoy!

James can taste nothing but blood in his mouth as he plunges his sword through chainmail. His ears are ringing from the sound of metal singing with every slice, every clash of his sword against his opponents and his foot catches on a dead knight’s arm as he whirls around.

All around him, dirt is flying and there is the smell of smoke as he twirls out of the way of a horse with no rider. Sweat dripping through his armour, he spots a soldier pinned down and charges, running the attacker through his sword and kicking him off the tip.

The smell of shit fills his mouth as he sucks in a wet gasp, helping the soldier get up. Clapping his shoulder, James can barely hear himself over the clamour of battle raging around him.

“Are we winning?” Steve asks harshly, shrugging off his king’s hand, and James feels cold ice spear up his limb at the bitter glare his knight commander pins him down with. Steve has lost his helmet, his golden hair dark with mud and blood but his eyes burn bright. “Is this worth it for you?”

“Volley!”

The word pierces through the haze and the two men collapse to their knees, ducking their heads as arrows stab into the dirt around them, the inflamed tips snuffing out as soon as they sink into wet mud.

“I want nothing more than to retreat, but they attacked first,” is his reply. He knows it’s pathetic.

He knows he’s at war because his people crave what they think is justice, because his people hate what they don’t understand.

He had been the same once.

Straightening, James jerks back as a sword tries to cleave him in two, and Steve is lost to him in the furious chaos of battle. Parrying another blow, he shoves his shoulder into his opponent’s gut and knocks him off his feet, dark hair flying into his face as he shoves the metal through the man’s stomach. The strangled scream echoes in his ears as he pulls it out with a wet schluck.

Stumbling back, James looks up to see more of his men clad in their refined red and gold armour storming down the hill, and he whips around, watching as more soldiers in gold and white fall. He can barely discern who is on his side, who is on Asgard’s.

“Well, if it isn’t the King of Kings!”

The voice, even to this day, harsh and rich with arrogance that only comes from believing their purpose is righteous, causes a fire in James to ignite.

Turning around slowly, he sees the gleaming dark armour, the stained black leather, the stench of death following his wake. Lord Rumlow scrapes the blood off one short sword with the other and James swears he can see someone’s brains along his knuckles drenched in blood as he raises his own sword.

“Rumlow.”

“How are you, m’lord?” he drawls, that knifepoint smirk digging into his cheeks as he raises one of his swords, the tip pointing for James’ eyes. Scarlet drips from the edge and James swallows the knot in his throat. He has no illusions that if given the chance, the man will stab him through the throat slowly, sinking that blade through his flesh as he watched the light die from James’ eyes and relish in it, but he is a dog.

A dog with a master.

“Where is she?” James asks, the words tearing out of his throat as he sweeps his gaze through the dying battle. The ground is littered with the fallen and he can taste death on his tongue—bitter and cold and vile. “Where is she?”

Lord Rumlow merely laughs, harsh and sharp and poisonous. He circles James like a predator circles cornered prey, slowly making his way within sword range, and James watches those dark eyes narrow in bloody glee. “As if she’d come here for you.”

“I know she is.” He doesn’t recognize his own voice. It’s dark with fury as Lord Rumlow merely cocks his head, intrigued. “I saw her on the rise.” Hair sticks to his skin and his heart is nothing more than threads barely holding together. “Please, we can end this—”

“You still love her.” It is nothing but cold, brutal truth and James flinches as soon as he hears it. It exhausts him to hear those words, to know that someone like Lord Rumlow knows what he had refused to believe, to know that he’d been the fool for years.

Lord Rumlow lunges forward, bringing his short sword down upon James’ shoulder. Blocking the blow, the king falls onto his back. Metal sings in his bones as their swords drag against each other.

James manages to drive the sword into the dirt, his lungs heaving for air as he jerks his head away from the tip. A wild glint falls into the dog’s eyes as his lips curl into a vicious snarl as James tries to throw the man off. His skin is slick with mud and blood and sweat, and James can feel the heat kiss him at all sides. It’s suffocating in his armour, clouds of hot air gathering in his back, under his arms, on his face.

Brock wrenches his bassinet off and James barely has time to prepare himself for the punch before it hits. His head snaps back into the mud, nose blooming in pain as his eyes squeeze shut to prepare for another strike, but hands merely wrap around his throat.

“How dare you claim to love her? How dare you say that after what you’ve done? You’re not even fit to say her name!”

Fingers dig deeper into his throat and James gasps for air, blood slipping down his cheeks from his nostrils. Mouth gaping, he wraps his hands around Lord Rumlow’s sleeves. The cacophony falls away, the sound of everything fading as James forces his eyes open, staring into the pits of his strangler’s eyes, and his feet kick, slip through mud.

“You. It was always you,” Rumlow murmurs. “Even after all these years, she chose you time and time again with nothing to show for it. She should’ve killed you when she had the chance.”

“What did you just say to me?” James chokes out and Rumlow laughs, sharp and his teeth are bared in a sadistic grin.

“You’re in no position to threaten me, m’lord.”

“No, what— what do you mean?” Another fist to the cheek, James’ world spins as his head jerks sideways. He can hear his blood gurgling in his head, in his throat, as he digs his fingers deeper into Rumlow’s gloved hands.

“All these years and you still don’t know.”

Unworthy. Unworthy. Unworthy, Rumlow’s voice chants in James’ head.

It is all he can hear.

Black dots impede his vision as the strength drains from his body.

“She never trusted you. She could never trust you. And how could she? Your family ruined her life!”

What?

“Please, don’t—” That voice from so long ago, scratched and aching with its plea for mercy, echoes in his ears and his eyes flutter shut.

“And why would she? You won’t even fight for her honour,” Rumlow derides, a cruel laugh mutilating his words. “You don’t deserve her love. You deserve nothing!”

There’s a snap.

“Get off of him!” a voice snaps, dark with power, and the weight lifts from his chest, but it is too late.

James doesn’t recall falling into the abyss, but he knows he falls when everything goes silent.

“Prince James, let me introduce my daughter.”

That is how it starts, when he is nothing more than thirteen, reading in the garden’s hedge maze. The sun is golden, the wind smells like sugar and sweet fruits, and the sky is bluer than sapphires as he closes his book and looks up at the approaching man.

When he thinks on it years later, he thinks it is just as how all the fairytales, all fables, start.

He recognizes the man—a diplomat, lord of some powerful house.

The girl behind him, however, he doesn’t.

You’re wearing a dark red dress, your hair pulled elegantly away from your face, and you’ve the warmest eyes he’s ever seen. A fire ignites inside him, smoldering him from the inside out as you curtsy and he stands, his chair grating harshly against marble.

You smile at his flustered expression and he finds it beautiful.

“Your Highness.”

“My lady.”

“Your hedge maze was no challenge for me,” you proclaim and James laughs, tucking his book underneath his arm.

“And you’re good at puzzles?”

“The best.”

His heart no longer beats in his chest as your father explains that you’re simply here to shadow him in his diplomatic duties.

He had never worried about marrying a woman he didn’t know the name of, but now, as you cock your head and your smile grows sly at his shy grin, he knows you’ve stolen his heart the instant he laid eyes on you.

Any betrothal in his future will be for nothing because all he wants is to marry you.

It’s his seventeenth birthday and he’d spent the night before drinking smuggled whiskey and smoking rum with his friends. His head pounds now, with regret, as he tries to keep himself from falling asleep. His feast is going full swing, and he can’t quite recall ever feeling the effects of irresponsible drinking so strongly than tonight.

“Your Highness.”

You’re helping him in that regard.

“You can’t doze off, can you?”

He blinks, head jerking to you, and you smile.

“It wouldn’t be fit for a king to sleep at his own birthday feast.” Extending a hand over the table, you cock your head. “Dance with me. Perhaps then you’ll stay awake long enough to see the night to its end.” Standing, James feels blood rush through his body and he grins, placing his hand and yours and walking around the table. You tug him playfully into the center of the dance floor, the circlet gleaming in your hair.

The melodies of the band sink into his bones as he places a hand on your waist, the other interlacing with yours as he steps with the music.

“I apologize, my lady.”

“Oh, as you should.” You smile although your tone betrays it as he spins you around. Your dress floats, flares gracefully from your waist in dark green flames, matching the emerald on your sternum. A gift of his for your last birthday. “Illicit drinking without me? Honestly, it’s a crime.”

“Steve wanted to keep it a secret,” James protests as he dips you in one hand.

“Funnily enough, Lord Rogers said it was your idea.” Hoisting you back up, you send him a berating glare. “Honestly, you’ve never kept a secret from me. What’s going on, now? You’ve been ignoring me for days.”

“Nothing, bluebird,” he soothes as your hand settles on his shoulder, and a heat blossoms from your palm, through him. He could melt into your heat, the effortless hearth that stems from your very soul. His eyes settle on your confused expression, and he pulls you close, forehead knocking into yours. “I promise you. There is no secret.”

“You’re lying,” you murmur, eyes searching his. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“As are you.”

You scoff, drawing back and their noses brush as you narrow your gaze in a challenge. “You’d be surprised.” You twirl out of his reach with a parting glare, another lady taking your place and he’s surprised to see Lady Natasha smirking up at him. Taking her hand in his, he steps back into a bow while she curtsies. The music stalls for a moment as he kisses the redhead’s knuckles before it picks back up again.

“My lady.”

“She’s not very pleased, is she?” the redhead points out and James groans. “You invited her all this way and then chose to exclude her on the pre-celebration ritual.”

“Don’t tell me you’re the one who told her,” he complains, nearly stepping on Natasha’s toes but the lady quickly steps out from underneath his boot. “I’m trying to keep it all a secret. You know that.”

“I think you’re doing a terrible job of it. If you’re going to propose to her, it might be best not to act like she has the plague.”

“I haven’t!”

“Yes, you have. Don’t play the fool.” Natasha narrows her gaze, squeezing his hand painfully, and James winces. “You’ve never went a single week in the four years you’ve known her without sending her a letter and suddenly, the moment we get here, I have to listen to her complain about how you refuse to even look her in the eye and how you don’t spend any time on her, excusing it with flimsy reasons.” Shaking her head, Natasha pretends to accidentally step on James’ foot as they waltz around each other. “You’re lucky she loves you. She suspects something is wrong with you, and she’ll get it out.”

“And you didn’t tell her, did you?” James adds nervously, causing Natasha to sigh heavily, rolling her eyes. Her whole body seems to cave in with the stupidity James is apparently exuding as she sucks in a breath and tries to formulate a response not too rude for him.

“Of course not. Why would I ruin something like this for her, Your Highness?” With the last, biting word, Natasha is whisked away by a blond man with flushed cheeks and way too many drinks to be anything but a stuttering mess. James follows the redhead as she pulls Steve off the floor and sighs dejectedly, collapsing into the chair beside his best friend.

“Your birthday not all you wanted, my lord?” Steve crows as Natasha brings a goblet of wine to her mouth to hide her smile. James, with a glum smile, leans his cheek against his fist and watches you dance with another lord. He’s a bit older, one of the lords of your house, and handsome in a roguish sort of way.

Lord Rumlow, your sworn shield.

James does his best to bite his tongue when you toss your head back in a laugh and the knight grins, his obsidian eyes soft only for you.

The three friends exchange glances as you cup the knight’s cheek before slipping into the crowd just as the music ends, and James stands abruptly without a farewell to his companions. Pushing himself through the crowd, he mutters his pardons, your dress slipping between noble lords and ladies.

Breaking into the hall outside the ballroom, he doesn’t see a trace of you.

As if you’ve disappeared.

Sighing, he walks to the gardens. These halls are ones he knows well, ones he’s run through since he was nothing but a princeling escaping his nursemaid’s supposedly evil clutches. Then, as a boy after tutoring or a day out riding, and now…

He had walked you through these halls a dozen times and he still thinks you haven’t seen everything.

One place you do know, however, is the palace gardens.

The leaves are silver in the moonlight, a gentle wind rustling through the hedges as he makes his way through the hedge maze. Crickets chirp and some bird croons as he sucks in a warm summer breath. It smells heavenly, of flowers and sweet sugar, of light and clean water. He can hear the faint music from the palace, still, but the smell of hearty meats and smoke have faded to something softer, something warmer.

“James?”

Your voice pierces through the night air as he finds himself in the centre of the maze. You turn around on one of the benches to look at him, and he’s surprised by the morose expression printed onto your face.

“Are you alright?” Stepping to the bench, he sits down beside you with a frown. “Did something happen?”

“Brock was simply saying how I had to rest up tomorrow. We depart at dusk tomorrow to avoid the rebels.” You turn to him, a glumness to your face he’s not used to seeing and he takes your hands gently in his. “I’m sorry I have to leave so early. We were supposed to have the week together.”

“If the rebels are threatening the roads, it’s best you go before you can’t any longer,” he whispers, leaning forward and pressing his lips to your brow. You inhale shakily at his touch, leaning into him. “I’m sorry I can’t fix this.”

“You can’t fix everything, Bucky,” you mumble, your nose brushing against his as you pull back. James wrinkles his nose and you cup his cheek, thumb brushing underneath his eye. “I just don’t think this is a war we need to fight.”

.”These magic users are dangerous—”

“Those magic users are people,” you reply hotly, pulling back and standing. You turn away from him and James’ eyebrows knit together as he stands as well. He doesn’t reach out for you, and you wrap your arms around yourself. “They’re people who’ve been treated like beasts.” Approaching you slowly, he gently sets his hands along your shoulders and you whirl around in his grasp. Your eyes search his, and he feels something in him soften at the bleeding heart he can see in your chest.

“You know I can’t change my mother’s policies. Not after how Father died.” His throat cinches shut at the mention of the father he never knew and he turns away from your palm, looking up at the summer sky. A dark indigo canvas speckled with diamonds, it’s so vast and endless, James can’t help but wonder if his father is watching down on him.

“What happened with your father, with Steve’s father, it was one incident that somehow made everyone see people with magic like freaks. One incident was all it took.” Looking down at you again, James brushes his knuckles down your cheek. “We haven’t exactly prosecuted all of mankind for one man going on a murder spree with a knife he stole from the butcher’s shop,” you say, voice snapping like a whip as you pull away. Again, you turn away from him and James feels at a loss. Every time you turn away, he feels as if he’s splitting in two and he sighs, letting his hand fall back to his side.

“We put murderers, criminals, in jail.”

“And we’ve persecuted a whole people for the same thing.” Your shoulders fall as you let out a tremendous breath, and an emptiness in James widens at the desolate aura emanating from your very being. “I should go.”

You move towards the hedges but James walks after you. “Wait! I don’t want us to depart on these terms. I have no wish for you to leave angry at me.”

You turn slowly, your dress twisting and brushing against the dirt as you shake your head, a gentle smile upon your face.

“I’m not angry at you, James,” you assure quietly, and he believes you by the earnest glint in your eyes.

“Then, may I walk you to your room, my lady?”

You dip your head, and extend a hand for him to take. Your fingers slide easily between his, and he pauses, simply admiring your face bathed in silver light. His other hand reaches to brush against your jaw and your smile grows as you cup his jaw and pull him down.

The kiss is quiet, tender, and his eyes slide shut as your hand runs through his hair, pulling back just enough to breathe.

“Promise you’ll love me,” you whisper, words as soft as silk against his lips as he presses his brow to yours. Your eyes are still closed but his flutter open, soaking in your face as if he’ll never have enough time to memorize it. You cup his face with both hands, open your eyes and stare into his soul. A wounded ache festers in your gaze and he nods. “Promise you’ll love me always.”

Drawing back, he feels your hands tremble and brings them in his own to his lips. Mouth against your fingers, he nods again. “I promise I will always love you.” Kissing your knuckles, he does not break his gaze away as your lips curl into a tender smile. Squeezing his hands, you look younger, as if a burden has been lifted off your shoulders, and in that moment, James swears he has never seen something quite so divine.

He falls to one knee, and reaffirms his grasp on your hands before digging through his trouser pocket for the ring.

“Bucky…” you begin, bemused at his antics, but then you catch sight of the ring and your breath hitches. Eyes widening, your fingers wrap tighter around his as he brings the ring up to the moonlight. In lunar rays, it glows effervescently, winking and stunning in its shallow grooves, smooth gold, and intricately shaped hands linked together. The metal bends, caves where the fingers interlace and you let out a whispering sigh as he looks up at you.

A heat rises in his cheeks and he swallows the nerves biting at his throat. He should’ve had a drink before he came out here, but then again, he hadn’t realized this would be where—

He should’ve. This is, after all, where he first fell in love with you.

“Marry me,” he says although it’s more of a question, a request, an ask for a blessing, and your smile is brilliant as you say nothing. “It is why I have been so distant lately. I’ve been trying to find the perfect execution, but it seems my own heart has betrayed me. I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you, and although I am your prince, to be your king… Do me this honour, Y/N, and be my queen.”

“Well…” Your grin digs into your cheeks as he looks up at you, and a flood of relief fills his body as you tilt your head, just as you did the first day you met him. “No more drinking without me, then I’ll marry you,” you proclaim and he laughs as you tug him onto his feet. “Promise me that.”

Sliding the ring onto your finger, he presses a warm, bruising kiss against your lips before pulling back just far enough to whisper, “You have my word.”

And then he kisses you again.

If, four years ago, James knew marriage would be so exhausting, he would still do it again in a heartbeat.

Your laughter, after all, is the song he wakes up to every morning.

That, or the squirming body of his son trying to get between James and you.

You laugh as his son bounces between your legs, desperate for the horse to go faster than the easy walk he paces at, and James watches as you wrap an arm around his son’s waist.

“Your stallion is ready, my king.” Turning to the stable hand, he nods his thanks and mounts easily atop the white steed, gently nudging his sides into a trot to join his family at the edge of the woods. Alpine nickers his greetings to your mare as you tug on the reins with your one hand.

“A fine afternoon,” he comments, glancing over at you as Stellan wraps his chubby hands around the handle of the saddle specifically crafted for riding with a child.

“Indeed it is, your Grace,” you tease, brushing your hair out of your face. “A fine day for riding.” Your mare bumps noses with his stallion as Stellan notices his father, clapping his hands. “The prince wants his father.” Hoisting his son out from the space between your lap, you hand him over to James with a grin.

“Papa!”

Kissing his son’s cheek, James grins when his son latches onto him, arms wrapped around his father’s neck as they start their ride into the woods. James keeps a hand on Stellan, careful not to let him fall or squirm too much.

His twenty-first year has been blessed with peace, and James can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. The rebels have been squashed into their hiding holes, and the kingdom prospers with long summers and short winters.

And his family…

He looks at you and something inside him melts. Your lips are puckered in a whistle and you repeat the bird songs chirping through the trees while the guard rides behind you, and he glances back to see Steve talking to Lady Natasha.

What joke did she tell him this time? He wonders, amused when Steve blushes at whatever Natasha said. Always flustered by whatever the bold redhead says. I hope nothing too under the skirts.

“Eyes forward, my king,” you call and he turns forward again to see you up ahead, head tilted to look over your shoulder. “We do have a clearing to reach before midday.”

“Mama?” Squirming in his arms, Stellan wriggles his way back between his father’s thighs and grabs the wooden handle of the saddle. Bouncing excitedly, the boy leans forward. “Go!” James nudges Alpine into a trot to catch up to his wife as his guard splits apart in the woods, no doubt interested in a day off simply relaxing without any drills on a sunny day like this. He’s sure some would head off to the lake for a swim while others participated in a hunt.

“Are you coming, Rogers?” a voice crows within the trees, and James grins when he hears Anthony’s squire, Peter, exclaim in pain when he hits his head on a low-hanging tree branch. “Your lady can come, too!”

“She’s not my lady, Tony!” Steve calls back as James catches up to where you’ve stopped and he pulls his reins lightly to stall as well. Glimpsing Steve’s red face, James smirks when the blond turns to Natasha. “I mean, you are my lady, my lady.”

“Aren’t you the charmer?” Natasha says dryly as the two approach the royals. Their steeds’ ears twitch and Natasha scratches her horse’s ear as you grin. “My king. My queen.”

“You do realize you are free to take the day off. We haven’t had the time to do so in ages,” you tell them kindly, your eyes darting from the lady to the lord. “Not since James has been crowned king, I feel.” Steve cocks his head when Stellan tries to reach over to him and he picks up the prince, bouncing him in his arms. “Not since this one was born for certain. You ought to take it, the both of you.”

“Spoken like a true queen,” Natasha teases. “But I agree. Diplomacy is an exhausting sport.”

“Sport? I’m sure Rhodes wouldn’t be so inclined to call it so.”

“Rhodes needs to stop and learn to relax. It’s not that complicated.”

“He knows how to relax,” James quips. “He just doesn’t take his job so lightly unlike you, Lady Natasha.”

Natasha grins, rolling her eyes before tugging the reins of her steed towards a parting in the trees. “Well, unlike Rhodes who is no doubt racing Tony to the lake, I will take a long, leisurely stroll there. Lord Rogers, if you would accompany me?”

“Of course, my lady.” Steve transfers Stellan from his arms back into his father’s, picking up his reins before dipping his head to you. “My queen.” Always with the formalities, James muses as he grabs Steve’s hand in a hearty shake farewell. “I won’t be too far away.”

“I’m counting on it,” James replies before the blond rides after the redhead, and the royals look at each other before bursting out into laughter. “God, I wonder when he’ll ever have the courage to properly ask for her hand in marriage.”

“Knowing them both, she’ll ask first,” you reply with a wrinkle of your nose and the two of you ride off into the woods.

The destination is a clearing upon a small hill, sparkling with morning dew just beginning to dry and flowers blooming in the branches. The trees part perfectly in a path down the hill to the lake and the sun casts golden shafts through the branches, the entire clearing glimmering in its blessing. The smell of fresh wind and sweet nectar fills James’ nose as you dismount beside him, lowering Stellan gently onto the grass. You unpack your saddlebag, revealing blankets and food.

James dismounts as well, patting Alpine firmly along his neck as he grabs the flagon of wine and more food from his own saddlepack while you lay the blanket gently over the grass. Feeding an apple to Alpine, he gently rubs his steed’s nose before joining his wife and son underneath the shade of a tree.

Unbuckling his belt, he rests his sword against the trunk before sinking to his knees beside you. You’re already leaning back on an arm, watching as Stellan chases a butterfly across the huge clearing and James kisses your temple, easing against the tree. You immediately lean against him, your head against his chest, and he tilts his head back to feel the breeze along his neck.

“This is wonderful,” you sigh, your hand on his chest. “Four years of nothing but non-stop madness and now we have a day to simply breathe..”

“Three years of being king, four of being a father. I don’t think I’ve ever been so exhausted,” he agrees. “Father always made it seem so effortless.”

“Well, that’s how fathers are,” you tease, glancing up at him. He looks down with a slight frown and you reach up to tap his nose. “You’ve been nothing but a perfect father to Stellan. You ought to slip before he thinks you’re some god.”

“Would that be too bad?” His nose wrinkles and you chuckle, pecking his lips before sitting upright. Stellan wanders back towards his parents, his chubby fist holding blades of grass and he tosses it at James before crawling into his mother’s lap. “He seems to be his mother’s son, anyway.”

“As he should,” you fire back, lifting Stellan up in your hands and throwing him up a few times. His high-pitched giggles cause James to smile as he leans down, brushes hair away from your forehead and kisses your brow. Tilting your chin up to snag his lips into another brief kiss, you settle your son against your chest and roll over.

“Mama, walk,” Stellan orders, and you look down at your son. “Go walk.”

“Your son’s already giving me orders,” you comment pointedly, sitting up as Stellan gets to his feet and James smirks, beginning to unpack the food.

“I think he’s more like you in that regard,” James fires back mischievously and you lightly smack his shoulder as their son grabs your hand and tugs you away. Pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, you allow yourself to be lead into the forest while James carefully sets up the wine, the food. Taking a bite out of a bit of cheese, he heads to the horses who’ve been roaming the clearing and sighs.

He must cherish this day. Tomorrow, it’ll be nothing but more meetings with diplomats, advisors, and other engagements regarding the bandits along their border.

Magic still spikes fear in the hearts of his people, despite how hard you’ve tried to dissuade the notion that magic is dangerous. It’s been your one goal since you’ve been crowned his queen, a movement that has made you…

Made you controversial, to say the least.

It has definitely put you into disfavour with his mother, but James doesn’t care.

He knows your heart is in the right place, even if he himself is still afraid. There is that bravery with you, that makes him want to be brave, too, but his father...

He will never forget the sight of his dead father.

Stroking Alpine’s snout, he feels the stallion lip at his pockets, searching for treats as your mare nickers, coming over with ears perked up in interest. Turning to the mare, he grins when she snorts against his cheek.

Grinning, he simply lets the horses nudge him every which way, threads his fingers through their manes. With a deep breath, he lets the day wash over him. He closes his eyes and presses his brow against Alpine’s.

In the distance, he can hear Natasha shouting at Anthony, Steve’s loud, bright laughter.

No matter what happens, he wouldn’t change being a king for anything if it meant ruling with these people beside him.

“Wolf! Wolf! It’s the White Wolf!”

Peter’s petrified warning shout echoes through the forest and James jerks towards his voice, eyes widening. The White Wolf?

His blood freezes in his veins. The White Wolf had been lurking through their woods for the past years, a white beast larger than horses and hungrier than ten wolves that only came out at night. With blood red eyes and claws that could eviscerate through steel armour, the White Wolf is nothing short of a monster.

Never has he heard of it roaming during the day.

Until now.

“Peter!”

“Where’s the king?”

Alpine lets out a loud neigh, stomping his foot against the soft dirt as the sound of swords and steel clashing and James grabs his belt from the tree, cinching it tight around his waist as Steve appears in the parting of the trees. His thoughts immediately race towards you and Stellan, alone in the woods, and his heart leaps to his throat as he turns to Steve.

“She went out with Stellan for a walk,” James barks, brushing past Steve roughly. Behind him is the rest of his guard, stumbling up the hills in various states of undress, but they stop as soon as they catch sight of him. Ice seeps into his veins and he ignores the thought of you mauled to pieces, a tiny body beside yours. “Find your queen!”

“Yes, my king!”

Drawing their swords, the knights split off in coordinated groups, disappearing in seconds. Steve and James pair off and sprint into the woods. His blood is racing through his body, his feet flying through the grass as he hears the loud roar of the bear.

Shouting your name, shouting Stellan’s, his lungs feel like they’re about to burst as the crashing river comes into view. The sound of the white rapids, thunderous as waves crash against rock, echoes in James’ skull as he sweeps his eyes for a glimpse of you.

There’s the dark brown of wood everywhere, the same shade as Stellan’s leather vest, and his vocal cords burn as he screams over the sounds of the rapids.

“James?” He can hear his name in the distance and then there is a flash of white smudged with green and he can see Stellan bursting through the bushes on the other side of the river, followed by you. Steve raises his hand as you scoop up your son, and James rushes to the chaotic riverside. Frigid water splashes at his boots and a chill shoots up his spine. “What is it?”

“We need to head back. The Wolf is awake.”

Eyes widening, you disappear back into the woods after a quick nod, and James turns to Steve with a grimace before they start to sprint down the river.

The only place to cross is by the lake where the river is calmer.

All he wants is to hold you in his arms.

The river calms as the trees begin to thin out once they reach the crystalline lake and Steve breaks through first just as something bursts through the bushes. Stellan’s cheeks are streaked with tears and as soon as he catches sight of his father, he runs towards you, and you tear out after him, your clothes stained with dirt and leaves, your hair a mess.

What follows is a massive beast, lunging out of the trees for you. It’s nothing but a flash of white fur and red eyes, claws gleaming in the sunlight. Drawing his sword, Steve runs into its path, bowled over with a painful clash just as James unsheathes his sword. You pick up Stellan and run up the hill, and as soon as James makes sure you’re on your way to safety, he joins Steve in the battle. The Wolf drags its claws through steel, and Steve lets out a scream, struggling to wrench its paw off of him just as James charges at the thing, running his blade through the pelt but it seems to glance off easily.

No mark stains the pelt and it swipes out a ferocious paw, knocking James aside as Steve struggles weakly, blood beginning to seep into the soil beneath. Scarlet rivulets gleam in the sunlight as James blinks his vision clear, digging his sword tip in an attempt to stand again. Terror tries to lock his limbs, but he tries to fight the swelling in his chest as he reaffirms his grip on the sword and runs at the beast once again.

The Wolf’s lips pulled back in a snarl, it leaves Steve motionless just as James tries to stab at its shoulder and it pulls back, tail thrashing. Blood drips from its maw and as James stares into the eyes of death, he wonders what he’ll see on the other side.

Hopefully, nothing.

Realistically, this will not be a painless death.

He raises his sword, and steadies his breath, sweat gathering in the hollow of his back, the seam that has stitched itself into his ribs just beginning to heal. Lungs heaving for air, he feels light-headed, near dizzy with adrenaline.

The Wolf lunges and James tries to jump out of the way too late. It catches him by the waist, drags him through the mud and his sword goes flying as teeth sink into his thigh. Grunting, he smashes his fist into the mutt’s muzzle to no avail, desperate to contain the scream trying to rip through his chest.

Black dots swarm his vision and his whole body is in flames as he raises his other leg, kicking the Wolf in the eye but it is not phased.

At least, not until something blasts it off of him.

Gasping for air, he pushes himself up and away from the Wolf that lies in a crumpled heap by the lake shore and then there is another pulse of energy, a cage of gold forming around the beast before hands hoist him up underneath his arms and drag him away.

“Are you alright?” He can hear your voice, sharp in his ear, and he turns to see you, eyes focused on the Wolf struggling to escape its prison. His whole body is aching buried deep in his bones and blooming like flowers in summer, and blood soaks through his trousers as you pull him behind a rock, dropping into a crouch beside him. “James?”

“What was that?” he whispers harshly, hand wrapping around your wrist, and your gaze jerks towards him jarringly. There is a light he does not recognize, focused, precised, glimmering in your eyes. You pull your wrist out of his grasp, turning to his oozing wound. Grabbing his hands, you push it atop the puncture, and James’ breath hitches at the warm, tingling sensation festering in his leg.

“I need to pull Steve to safety. Put pressure on that and do not move. You’ll only bleed more.” Without another word, you turn and make a lifting gesture with your hands. James cranes his head to watch a warm, golden corona surround Steve’s body and he is dragged towards them, leaving a trail of blood-soaked grass. The Wolf growls, lunges and bites, the sizzling of its energy cage filling the silence along with the clanking of Steve’s armour just as the blond is caught in your hands.

Pulling him around the rock cover, you hoist Steve up against the stone and run a glowing hand across the hemorrhaging body. Your fingers, tense and locked, seem to tremble as the blood stops flowing, and James’ eyes nearly pop out of his skull as he watches the eviscerated remains of his best friend begin to stitch together.

Turning to his own leg, he lifts his blood-red palms to see it already nearly closed, and his heart constricts as he covers it again and lets his head fall back to the stone.

Magic.

There’s the sound of branches breaking and James’ eyes snap open. Sweat pours at your brow just as he turns to look at you, and you barely flash him a smile before something snaps again and your attention is torn away.

Immediately, the stitching effect disappears and James cradles Steve’s head in his, brushes blood away from his cheek as a sharp howl pierces the air. The summer heat is thick against his cheeks as you trade blow for blow with the Wolf.

He wants nothing more than to step in beside you, but with every flash of gold, every bright burst of energy, he feels the fear he felt when he was nothing more than a child locking his legs, paralyzing his body.

Magic.

Pure, powerful magic lights up the air and he can smell it, smoke and starlight, on his tongue.

The Wolf lunges and you toss it into the lake. You send a shockwave rippling towards the hound and it merely jumps over and pins you to the ground. Its claw gouges into your chest and your scream is earth-shattering as you kick it off of you with a powerful blast from your legs. Rolling onto your hands and knees, James can see blood drip slowly down your chest, into the grass as your tattered dress blows in the gentle wind.

You seem to stare into death’s jaws, and then…

You smile.

The Wolf’s claws dig into the dirt, and then it is sprinting at you in full force just as you force yourself onto your feet.

Your name tears through his chest just as the Wolf tackles you into the lake and there is a small flash before a loud crash of water and he turns to Steve to make sure he’s still alive before stumbling to his feet to watch, and in the lake, two beasts thrash in the cold water. Jaws snap, claws drag through flesh, and he watches as a magnificent bird beats its wings, sending a rippling gale of wind through the lake. The water recedes onto the shore as fire flares and the Wolf whines in pain as talons sink into its back.

An awe fills his entire body as the gorgeous phoenix flaps its wings and takes flight, dropping the Wolf onto the shore once again and landing with delicate precision. It warbles, a gentle sound, and shakes out its feathers, droplets of silky water flying everywhere. Each quill is red-orange, near golden, and its talons glimmer with golden scales.

James’ mouth drops open as it croons at the Wolf who merely cowers in its presence. Another whimper escapes the white dog, its red eyes fading to brown and James, entranced, watches as the phoenix, wings extended, begins to sing.

A sense of melancholy seeps into his soul as the Wolf lowers its chin to its paws and the phoenix coos, the crest on its head swaying and catching the true sunlight. They shine like cut amber as its golden eyes narrow.

Then, there is another, softer glow as the phoenix buries its beak in the fur of the Wolf, and James turns away, shielding his eyes from what seems like the sun. Falling beside Steve, he looks at his best friend.

“Steve?” he murmurs, and murky blue eyes meet his just as you appear again. Magic still oozes around you like oil in the sea, and he can smell magic again, but warmer this time—like a hearth burns inside his soul. Around your shoulders is an arm attached to a young woman he doesn’t recognize in a white dress.

“Are you alright?” you ask, slowly lowering the woman to the ground as well. Reaching, you cup Steve’s face that is beginning to regain its colour, and James watches gold light up the blood beneath his skin where you touch.

Don’t touch him, he wants to say, but Steve only wakes up at the contact, eyes widening ever more so slightly.

“Y/N,” Steve rasps and your hand retreats just as you turn to the woman that’s barely stirring. James watches as you lay a hand carefully on her arm, and she raises her head groggily. Her eyes are muddy, dazed, but then they roll back and she slumps forward and Steve jerks away from the hair brushing against his hand, shuffling back against James who wraps an arm around Steve. “I thought death held me for certain.”

“It almost did, old friend,” James replies, eyes wandering to you. “And the Wolf?”

“She needs time to recover,” you reply, delicately brushing hair away from the girl’s face and James’ eyebrows rise in shock.

His whole body is wracked with fatigue, but his mouth drops open when he gets a glimpse of the necklace hanging around the girl’s neck. “I remember her. Seven years ago, House Starr reported their daughter was missing to Mother. They never found her.”

“At least not until now. I need to bring her to healers,” you say, standing and lifting the girl with surprising ease. James struggles to his feet, pulling Steve up, and your eyes soften at him as you try to smile, but the blood, the still-fading glint in your eyes, sends chills through his body.

Magic…

“We’ll need to speak later.” You dip your head in farewell before walking to the lakeshore, and Steve groans, his entire body deadweight against James’ shoulder and the king grunts, doing his best to keep him standing.

“Bluebird, wait—”

You glance at him over his shoulder, and there is a sorrowful sweetness resting in your face, a tenderness in your smile, a grief in your gaze.

Then, a golden sparks carve a line into the air, sizzling against the grass as it carves a portal into this reality. You turn forward and walk through.

It closes before he can follow.

His mind is cluttered, his ears full of beeswax, and he doesn’t know what is real.

Steve had been rushed to the hospital wing to be swarmed by doctors, the other knights anxious yet relieved to see both the king and their knight commander alive and safe.

He doesn’t miss the fact that Rumlow is not among those men.

In fact, he is missing, and not a single soul has heard from him.

Buried in his bones is an ache James cannot ignore. His chest feels like it’s splitting open, his ribs snapped, and as he stares at his reflection in the cheval mirror, he swallows the hard lump in his throat.

The teeth marks are already closed, scarring over yet there’s still a residual pulse of pain when he prods at it.

He doesn’t know whether or not to be enraged, relieved.

All he knows is emptiness.

“Are you alright?” Startled, James drops his pant leg and turns around to see you standing there, eyes wide and a tentative smile upon your lips. His breath catches in your throat and his eyes immediately go to his hands that you clasp before you. “James?”

“What are you doing here?” he asks, feather soft and you walk closer, your footsteps light. “Where is the Wolf?”

“Lady Ava is fine. I’ve brought her to some healers on the border of Asgard and Midgard. It was some curse inflicted upon her as a child. Parental mishap, it seems but she’ll be fine with time,” you inform quietly, your gaze dipping to your hands as you twist the ring, the ring he had given you, around your finger. “Is Steve…”

“He’s alive,” he replies stiffly, brushing past you and you turn around with him, lips twisted into a worried frown. “Thank you,” he adds quietly, genuinely. His mind is a whirlwind, his heart racing in his ears, and he can’t help the sensation that seizes his chest, the awareness of where your hands move. “Without you, he would’ve died.”

“Steve is family.” Walking up behind him, James can feel you come close. His entire body tenses, and he faces the wall, eyes slip shut. Bright blasts of gold ignite in his mind, followed by a ravaged village he had seen on his tour of his kingdom. At the hands of magic.

Hands of your kind.

He forces the next words out between gritted teeth, the words coming out flat, stoic.

“Go, before someone tells the truth about you.”

“James, you can’t possibly—” You touch his shoulder and James flinches away, whirling around to face you. Your eyes widen at the reaction, and you withdraw your hand back, stumbling to the wall. “You’re afraid of me.”

“You’re magic,” he whispers, voice wavering and you swallow audibly. Your hand shakes through the air as you retract it to your chest, and he watches the pulsing wound along your collarbone slowly stitch itself together, the flesh leaving no mark. Magic. “Of course I’m afraid of you.”

“James—”

“And Stellan,” he cuts you off cleanly, trying his best not to shake when your eyes widen, wet with tears. You blink and they fall, crystalline in the low light. You’re shaking, your entire body trembling as the two of you stand on opposite sides of the small room. “Is he…”

“Magic?” you finish for him and your voice is void of life, defeated. Your hands drop to your sides and you seem to stand straighter under his gaze as you stare at him. “After all this time, you’re still afraid of magic. You won’t even let me explain.” Your expression crumbles and you turn your face away, rubbing at the tears tracking down your face. An incredulous, sharp exhale fills the silence and James feels something inside him split open.

“Would you? Explain, that is.”

His heart wilts, his lungs collapse. His ribs seem to ache as you wipe at your face, the soft sounds of your uneven breathing filling the silence. He can feel your gaze, hot and desolate and aching against his cheek as he closes his eyes.

All he can see is his father’s splayed body, the blood soaking through the mud.

“You keep this secret from me, and expect me to trust you with the truth?”

“James…” you whisper softly, and his gaze jerks to yours jarringly. Your glassy eyes seem to stare right through him and he swallows through the bruising in his throat as he tries to hold back his own tears. “Please—”

“How could you not tell me?” he croaks, and you inhale, a shuddering, sharp thing. His chest is cracked open, his limbs are numb yet every bone in his body is solid lead. “How could you keep this from me?”

“Because I know you.”

Your words are empty in the summer air.

There is a moment of silence as everything James knows shatters around him. If he listens close enough, he can hear the shards of it colliding with the stone beneath his feet, breaking into uncountable pieces.

“Go,” he says softly, and he can’t bear to look at the devastation his words cause. “I’ll say you died in the attack, so you have enough time to leave the kingdom. Take Stellan and do not return.”

“James, no. He’s your son. Please, don’t—”

“I said, go!” The loudness of his voice shocks him and he flinches back into the wall at the eerie quiet that follows.

There is the only sound of uneven breathing, the cacophony of hearts breaking, and you step forward, the fabric of your tattered dress brushing against the floor. He can see your shadow in the candlelight, reaching for him, before you jerk back and he closes his eyes, burning tears dripping down his cheeks.

The door groans when you push it open, as if the castle is reluctant to let you leave, but then it opens and you slip out.

The door closes shut with a soft, yet thunderous boom.

“The King is awake!”

James’ head blisters with pain, and it only intensifies at the voice as he blinks his eyes open. The ceiling of his room is not unfamiliar, neither is the mattress he’s beginning to wear uneven beneath his back.

All these years and he never could sleep on your side of the bed.

“James!” Doors open and hands rush to help him sit up, and he groans, eyes squeezing shut when his head sways. His whole world slants and the taste of vomit burns at his throat as he slowly opens his eyes again, and he catches sight of Natasha’s red hair. The bright light streaming into his room makes his head pulse and he turns away, hand rising like it’s dragging through molasses.

“The light,” he rasps, and Natasha, who holds him by the elbows, turns to whomever is with her.

Darkness falls in his room.

“James.” Steve. “Are you alright?”

“What… how am I here?” His tongue is thick in his mouth, dry and raw, and his vocal cords twinge at his voice.

“Rumlow almost killed you,” Steve begins quietly as more people enter the room. “We lost men, but won the battle once they surrendered.”

“Surrendered?” Frowning, James’ brow wrinkles and he feels something split open with a stinging sensation digging into his skull. He hisses out, reaching to touch it but Natasha guides his hand away. “Fuck. Where—”

“In the dungeons. Waiting for you whenever you’re ready.” Natasha’s voice is soothing to the thumping in his skull.

“Help me stand.”

“Wait. Give yourself a few moments to regain your bearings,” Steve murmurs but James shakes his head despite how terribly it increases the agony chipping into his head.

“No—”

“James.”

“If she’s there, I need to see her.” Letting go of Natasha’s hand, he swings his legs off the bed and leans forward, hands clutching onto the edge of his bed.

“James.”

“What?” he barks, head snapping to Steve and Natasha who look at each other with an apprehension. “Steve…” Something drags at his gut and his eyes widen in fear. Ice sluices through his chest. The silence becomes suffocating and with every passing second, he feels the world darken in on him.

No. No, no, no, no—

“She’s not there.”

“Where is she?”

“James, sit down.”

The ice melts into magma, and he thrashes off Natasha’s gentle hand.

“Where is she?”

Peter’s cabin is small, but warmly furbished for a squire. He lets them in before excusing himself to the castle, and James feels like he’s chained to a solid steel ball by the ankle. His limbs are wrought with bruises, and his head sways with every step as Natasha and Steve help him in.

He can see you through the open door to Peter’s room, and his breath stops in his chest.

Your body is hunched over a bed, a blanket draped over your shoulders as the sun washes over your body. You don’t stir at the entrance of the trio and James lets out the breath, the string lancing through his body snipped when you don’t immediately move. You’re dressed in oversized clothes, trousers and a linen shirt hanging off your shoulders. Your hair is slick with oil, and he can smell the poultices that must’ve been slathered onto any wounds from where he walks slowly deeper into the room, his fingers deep in Natasha’s and Steve’s arms.

“Steve,” Natasha murmurs, and she brings James’ hand to Steve before approaching the bed slowly. Steve leads James to a couch by the small hearth but James’ eyes don’t stray from Natasha as the redhead approaches your sleeping form. He cranes his head to watch through the doorway, and his blood rushes to his head, dizzying.

“Why is she here?” James whispers, voice fleeting just as Natasha lays a hand on your shoulder and you jerk up, a soft blue corona flaring around your being and Natasha raises her hands, walking around the bed. Narrowing his gaze, James tries to decipher who lays there as you stand on unsteady feet, rub at your face.

“How long have I been asleep?” you ask quietly and the sound of your voice, deeper, mature, strikes James, pulls him apart at the seams. Standing on unsteady feet, his legs knock into a table as he rushes towards the bedroom despite Steve’s attempts to grab him, and he stumbles to the door frame, his head spinning.

His vision blurs, and his head feels like it’s bashed in, but he doesn’t miss the colour of your eyes, the way your head turns to look over your shoulder.

Lightning strikes his core when your gaze fixes on his. There’s so much about you that is the same since the last time he’s seen you. Thirteen years and you’ve only grown more beautiful, more graceful. The little wrinkle in your brow as you look at him, the tightness in your lips as you frown.

“James.”

Even the way you say his name is the same.

What isn’t, though, is the fear.

He knows what fear looks like on your face, the way it floods your eyes, the way it can’t show on the rest of you because you are a queen and untouchable, but for it to be directed at him…

His head is heavier than bricks on his shoulders as you back up until your legs touch the bed, and your arms are spread.

Is this how he looked at you all those years ago? As if he holds a knife to his throat and digs the blade deeper with every second?

“What is he doing here?” you ask, scratchy and you clear your throat, not tearing your gaze away from him for a second. James stays by the door, a cold hand wrapped around his ankle, keeping him there no matter how much he wants to move.

“I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Oh, you’ve done plenty.” Your voice, pure fire, sears through his chest as you narrow your gaze. “Go.”

“Y/N—”

“I said, leave.” Although no magic flares at your fingertips, there is a shift in the way the light plays in your eyes and James’ throat closes up at the way your eyes glisten. “Don’t you think your family has done enough?”

“You’re my family.”

“No, I wasn’t,” you whisper. Natasha’s head is bowed, but her eyes still watch the scene with an uncanny glint. Even if she is your friend, she will no doubt step between you and him. Catching the woman’s gaze, James tilts his head towards the door. Eyes widening, the red lady dips her head and slowly makes her way between them, her gaze slowly dragging across James’ expression but he remains solely focused on you.

Your eyes do not stray from him either.

Walking in slowly, he closes the door behind him and his eyes flicker to the figure in the bed. Their face is cloaked in shadow, but he can see dark hair illuminated by the candle. Eyes narrowing, he tries to discern who it is.

Perhaps it is Rumlow, and he has made a tremendous error.

“Why are you here?” you whisper tightly between clenched teeth, and his eyes snap back to yours. “It’s been thirteen years and you’ve fixed nothing.”

“I didn’t know Asgard was ruled by you,” he begins. “I didn’t know until I saw you on the rise. If I had known—”

“What? Would you have attempted peace? Or would you have tried to conquer us again like your father did?” Your expression is wracked with agony as he steps closer, and you inhale softly, shakily. “Stay away from me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Stay away—”

“Bluebird—”

“Do not think me so soft that I will listen to you because you call me that.” Your words become thin, choked. “I gave you my terms, and you didn’t choose peace, just as your father did.”

“Your people are hostile.”

“And yours murdered mine. King Thor died two moons ago and the only suspect is a Midgardian” Her words hang coldly before him and he pauses in the middle of the room. “As his successor, it was only natural to want justice.”

“Why you? Why not anyone else in his court?”

“Because I was not just Midgard’s queen,” you say, finally pulling your gaze away to sit down on the edge of the mattress and turning to the figure on the bed. You touch their face, but do not tilt them to the light. “Your father tried to conquer Asgard when I was young, four or five. I was playing with my brother in the streets, my mother watching over us. I didn’t know what was happening until we heard the screams.”

James hears the tiny, trembling breath in your throat as you run your hand down the figure’s cheek.

“It was too late before we knew to run. My mother took my brother and ran, and I did my best to follow, but they just kept running after us until we separated.” Your voice goes quieter, glass-like. “I found their bodies, my mother’s hunched over Loki’s as she tried to protect him. I can still see their blood, taste it in my mouth. It felt like the entire city burned before allied Jotunheim forces arrived and chased your people out of our land.”

“Y/N—”

Your gaze finally turns to him, and he does not recognize the pitifully small girl in them, the shivering, broken girl in the rain and smoke staring back at him. “They ran through the streets like rats. I could hear them shouting in fear as they froze to death, and I thought I was going to die, too, until Brock found me. He was… he was the knight commander’s squire, and he told me I had to run.”

“So he knew all this time.”

“Of course he did. He was sworn to protect me,” you murmur, and the way your voice flips makes James’ eyebrows rise.

“He loved you, you know?”

“I know he wanted revenge. I know he wanted me to kill you at every turn. I don’t know if he could have ever picked me over the other,” you whisper, eyes drifting and finding his again. Your eyes have softened with an unspoken agony, and the candlelight plays with your face, making you simultaneously younger and older all at once. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Your silence is his answer and, this time, when he comes closer, his hand against the wall, you don’t protest.

“I’m sorry.” He cranes to catch a glimpse of the face, and sees a younger face, at rest yet ashen with death. Eyebrows knitting together, he looks to you again and it’s breathtaking the way you gaze at him. Effortlessly in anguish, terrible in your grace. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“James—”

“Forgive me.” Pushing off the wall, he falls to his knees before you and bows his head, heat rushing to his face. Head submerged in his own shame, he can feel his shoulders shake before the tears come and his throat clots as he plants his hands into the ground. “Forgive me.” A worm in his gut wriggles its way up his throat and he feels sick to his stomach as he keens over, presses his brow to the wood. “I never meant this. I don’t know—where? How did we get here, bluebird? How?”

“James.” Your voice, strong yet tender, commands you to look up at him, and his face is kissed by cold wind as he wipes at his tears. “Come sit beside me.” Raising to unsteady feet, he collapses beside you and your arm immediately wraps around his shoulders, your other hand brushing hair away from his slick cheeks, his tear-stained eyes. “You know how we got here.” Your thumb brushes over his lip and a sense of warmth fills his hollow being. Thirteen years without your warmth, and now, he drowns in it.

Your hand flattens against his cheek and guides your gaze as you twist to reveal the face on the bed. With your free hand, you tilt the boy’s face towards him.

His entire body freezes as the boy murmurs, eyebrows knitting together and turning away.

“Stellan…” Standing, he rushes around to the other side of the bed to get a better look of him, and reaches with trembling hands toward his son’s face. A large cut is drawn into his stem and disappears beneath his shirt, and a rage fills his soul. He’ll kill the man who tried to kill his son. “My son—”

Who looks just like him in nature, the same jaw and nose.

“—has grown into a man,” you say, and James wrenches his gaze to you. A sweet sorrow resides in your face as you smile. Holding Stellan’s face in his hands, James entire body alights with energy, with a breathless wonder. “And knows his father enough to save his life.” You thumb over Stellan’s cheek, your fingers barely brushing James’, golden magic spiralling beneath your hand like branching ivy, and the boy mumbles under his breath, turns to the warmth. He fights the instinct to flinch, and simply lets your magic caress his knuckles. It tickles, then melts like warm chocolate against him. “And he got a sword stem to stern for it.”

“He killed Rumlow?” James looks to you, his hands drawing away from his son’s face, and the warmth is chased away.

“It was instant. Brock felt no pain. It was all I could do to save Stellan,” you say, struggling to keep your voice even. “I don’t want us to fight, anymore, James. Bucky,” you correct yourself with a small smile, and his heart pangs as you reach for his hand across the bed. No one has called him that in years. “But if this is what happens when our people mingle, perhaps it’s best we stay apart.”

“I don’t want that,” he whispers, taking your hand and you study him with knitted eyebrows. “I don’t want to be apart from you for another moment.”

“Then, promise me you’ll fix this.” Your voice, barely a whisper and shaking, is strung with a strength he knows you have, and he looks to you, a queen all on your own.

You have never needed him, but he needs you. Your hand in his tells him as much as you weave your fingers carefully with his, and he wants to hold you tight, hold his son again.

Thirteen years have left him cold, nothing more than a skeleton in a flesh prison.

“I promise.”

At his words, your expression seems to ease, and then a shyer, girlish smile curls at your lips.

“And promise you’ll love me always.”

“I promise.”

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hysterialevi · 3 years

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Hjarta | Chapter 11

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A WHILE LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE LONGHOUSE

Pain. That was all he could see.

As Sigurd walked side-by-side with Ulfar through the longhouse’s doors, he heard nothing but the agonized groans of fallen warriors, and the devastated cries of survivors who were now mourning their loved ones.

The horrid stench of smoke and death clung stubbornly onto the wooden walls, and with so many fresh corpses now littering the village, they had what looked like a battlefield sitting on their very doorstep.

It was a nightmare come to life. Even though Sigurd was no stranger to the morbidity of war -- he had grown up in the midst of one, after all -- it was still enough to make his stomach churn, and his heart ache.

How could this have happened? And during such a joyous event as well? Today was meant to be a day for their clans to celebrate; to enjoy themselves. But instead, they were now taking shelter in the longhouse, and being forced to isolate themselves from the mayhem that lurked outside.

It looked like Muspelheim itself had razed Bjornheimr’s streets, and frankly, Sigurd didn’t know how they were going to recover from this.

“Poor woman...” Ulfar said, gazing in Ingrida’s direction. At the moment, the seeress was holding Eirik’s body in her arms and gently stroking his forehead, comforting him as if he had contracted a simple ailment. Not a single word was being uttered from her lips, and yet, the lifelessness of her expression was enough to say everything.

“No parent should have to lose their child,” Ulfar remarked, his voice heavy with sorrow. “I can’t imagine what that woman is going through right now.”

The prince followed his line of sight. “What happened to Eirik? How did he die?”

“I have no idea. He approached me and Eivor at the temple just before the assault was launched... with three arrows in his back. He wanted me to tell Ingrida something, but... he slipped away before he could get the words out.”

The older man’s brow crinkled with anger. “Those bastards. Kjotve’s men didn’t even have the honor of giving Eirik a warrior’s death. They shot him down like a dog.”

Sigurd sighed in frustration, crossing his arms in a stern manner. “...How did this even happen? You and I spent so much time planning the defenses of this village. We cleared the forest of Kjotve’s camps. How is it that his people overwhelmed us so easily?”

Ulfar’s eyes narrowed with skepticism. “I have the same question. It’s possible that Kjotve’s been planning this for a while, but... still. I’d be lying if I said the efficiency of this attack wasn’t suspicious.”

Bringing their conversation to a halt, a nearby series of footsteps suddenly made its way into the building, drawing both the men’s attention to the doorway.

In the distance, Sigurd saw Eivor dragging himself into the longhouse with his father’s axe in hand, still as bleak as before. His head sank with a profound sense of melancholy, and his feet lingered behind him in a manner that made it seem as if chains holding him down.

At first, the prince expected Eivor to say something to Ulfar upon entry, but instead, he simply drifted past the two of them without a single word, and headed out into the training yard adjacent to the longhouse.

“...Do you think he’ll be alright?” Sigurd asked, watching as the man slipped away.

Ulfar shrugged. “I cannot say. Eivor has always been strong, but even the strongest of men have their weaknesses. Kjotve has caused him much pain ever since he was a child. It will take him time to recover from this battle.”

The prince’s voice softened at the thought of a recent memory. “...Eivor told me about his parents a while ago, you know. About how Kjotve killed them.”

“Then you understand the gravity of what happened today. Kjotve trying to kill Eivor in the same way he murdered Varin -- it’s an insult deserving of an axe to the chest. I’ll be surprised if the boy lets this go.”

Sigurd paused for a moment, allowing the realization to settle in. “...Eivor nearly gave up Valhalla in exchange for my survival. He was willing to die without a fight... just to ensure that I lived.”

Ulfar nodded, recalling his conversation with Eivor all those years ago. “Yes. Because in the end, you were more important to him than anything Valhalla could’ve offered. He spent the past thirteen years dreaming of the day he’d finally get revenge, and he sacrificed it for you. I hope you understand that, Sigurd.”

“Of course. I owe him my life.”

“Indeed.”

Sigurd decided to follow Eivor and began making his way out of the longhouse, hoping to catch the young man before he disappeared.

“Wait here,” he told Ulfar. “I’ll go speak with him. I want to see how he’s doing.”

“Hold a moment.” The raider said, stopping Sigurd in his tracks.

“Yes? What is it?”

The older man fell silent for a second, pondering how to broach the subject.

“Before you go, Sigurd, there’s something else you should be aware of.” Ulfar lowered his voice, ensuring that no one else could hear him. “...I know about your relationship with Eivor.”

Sigurd’s heart skipped a beat, and the color drained from his face. “You-- what?”

“Eivor confided in me during the wedding,” Ulfar explained. “He had quite a lot on his mind, and was willing to tell me about your affair. Have no fear, though. I won’t expose your secret. He entrusted me with this matter, and I have no intentions of betraying that trust. However, there is something I need to make clear.”

The prince listened intently, worried about where this was going. “...Alright, then. Speak your mind.”

The raider crossed his arms. “It pains me to separate Eivor from someone who makes him happy, but for the sake of this alliance, I must insist that you keep things at a platonic level if you wish to console him. I realize it’s not always that easy, but our clans need each other to win this war. If your marriage with Randvi falls apart, so does our bond.”

Sigurd took his words to heart, regardless of how reluctant he may have been to accept reality.

“I understand, Ulfar. You have nothing to fear. I wouldn’t jeopardize this marriage.”

Ulfar didn’t look entirely convinced. “I hope so. You have my trust for now, Sigurd, but just remember -- I don’t give it blindly.” He turned away from the prince, dismissing him with a wave of the hand. “Anyway, go and see Eivor. I imagine he’s somewhere in the training yard. If the two of you wish to join me later, I’ll be speaking with the jarl and your father in the war room. We have much to discuss.”

“I will.”

“Look after that boy, Sigurd,” Ulfar said, striding to the front of the longhouse. “He cares about you more than you realize.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE TRAINING YARD

Stepping back out into the open, Sigurd welcomed himself into the deserted training yard as he scanned the area for Eivor, admittedly reluctant to wander through the aftermath of the recent battle. The thick scent of smoke and ash immediately smacked him across the face once he was outside, and even now, he could still feel the heat of the raging fires consuming their entire village.

He imagined Eivor’s state of mind must’ve been dire, if he was willing to take solace in an environment like this. Bjornheimr was hardly recognizable after the chaos Kjotve wreaked, and yet, the young man found it preferable to staying within the confines of the longhouse.

Sigurd supposed it was understandable, considering his exchange with the enemy. Kjotve could’ve cut Eivor down in the midst of a proper holmgang, but instead, he decided to do something worse. He took away his honor.

He degraded the Wolf-Kissed with the same impossible dilemma he once thrust upon Varin, and now, the nightmare would only haunt Eivor again. The gods would know of his swift surrender and declare it as an action of cowardice, and he would likely receive judgement from his fellow clan members.

In Sigurd’s eyes though, the man was a hero. He sacrificed one of the greatest honors known to Midgard in exchange for his family’s safety, and he did so with barely any hesitation. He displayed more courage than Sigurd had ever seen from anyone else in his life, and yet, he would have to reclaim his honor simply because he was willing to put down his axe.

It was a series of events laden with unfairness in Sigurd’s opinion, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to change it nonetheless.

Roaming closer to the training yard, Sigurd’s head perked up in interest when the sound of metal scraping against wood suddenly reached his ears, drawing his focus to a nearby tree. There, he saw Eivor himself fervently slashing his axe against the trunk, letting out occasional shouts of anger.

His movements were erratic and driven by rage, and at certain points, the prince even feared he might chop down the whole tree. Eivor seemed to be trapped in a tempest of fury that Sigurd had never witnessed in the past, and frankly, he was concerned about the man’s well-being.

“Eivor?” He called out. The younger man swung his axe one more time before coming to a halt, giving Sigurd no more than a brief glance.

“...What?” He replied sharply, speaking through rapid breaths.

The prince approached his friend, careful not to provoke him any further.

“I don’t mean to disturb you,” he said gently, “but... I was worried. You disappeared from the longhouse so quick. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Eivor turned around, revealing the glower that had been branded into his face.

“How do you think I’m doing?” He snapped, lodging the weapon’s blade into the wood. “The gods granted me the chance to kill Kjotve after thirteen years... and I wasted it! He was right there. He was right in front of me. I could’ve done something -- anything! Even if it killed me, it would’ve been better than surrendering!”

He stormed away from the tree and began pacing around the yard, attempting to recompose himself.

“By Odin, I’m such an idiot. I’ve spent my entire life preparing for this moment. Waiting for it. I’ve endured countless days of training, planning -- everything you can think of. I’ve placed offer after offer at the feet of the gods, just begging them for the chance to bury my axe in Kjotve’s chest. And what do I do when they finally give it to me?” Eivor kicked a rock resting by his feet. “I walk away.”

Sigurd gazed at the man in sympathy, wishing he could comfort him somehow.

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss yourself, Eivor. You may have let Kjotve slip from your grasp for now, but remember why you did it. You did it to save your family. You did it to save me. I... I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t shown up. I owe you my life.”

Eivor plopped himself on the ground and sat against the longhouse’s walls, staring upwards at the smoke-riddled sky.

“Perhaps I should be proud of myself, then,” he said, “but I’m not. If anything, I just feel like a fool. I feel like... like I’ve failed my father. Like I’ve wasted everything he did for me.”

Sigurd took a seat next to the Wolf-Kissed, allowing his feet to rest for the moment. “You’re too hard on yourself, drengr. Your father would understand. He was once in the same position as you, after all. Not only that, but he also made the same choice. He would be proud of your sacrifice.”

Contrary to what the older man expected, Eivor only seemed to grow more bitter.

“I guess. But-- why are you even here? I thought you’d be in the longhouse, looking after the villagers with Randvi. What are you doing out here talking to me?”

“Randvi has her own duties to take care of, and so do I. But I wanted to see you first. Just because I’m married now doesn’t mean I don’t care about you anymore, Eivor.”

The man shook his head. “Well, you shouldn’t. You can’t afford to care about me, Sigurd. You have a wife now. A future queen. She’s the one you need to be focused on. Not me.”

Sigurd was admittedly taken aback by the coldness in his tone, but brushed it off nonetheless. He knew Eivor was hurting at the moment, and it felt wrong for him to hold that against him.

“Eivor...” he said softly, “listen to me. Kjotve may have escaped from our grasp today, but we are not letting him go. Ulfar is devising a plan in the war room as we speak. We will find him again. You will get your chance.”

The young man sighed out of exhaustion, causing his shoulders to slouch. “...I hope so. I’ve fought too hard for this war to end now. I can’t let Kjotve get away. Not when I’m so close. I just pray that the gods will deem me worthy of a second chance.”

Sigurd gave him a reassuring nod. “They will. This fight isn’t over yet, Eivor. In fact, it’s hardly begun. We haven’t seen the last of Kjotve. I know it.”

Eivor dragged a hand down his face and drifted off into silence, staring at the clouds of smoke forming in the distance. By now, they had completely blotted out the sapphire embrace of the sky above, and darkened the land beneath with a looming shadow.

Particles of ash fluttered through the air like autumn leaves twirling in the wind, and in the distance, Eivor saw nothing but a shroud of fire obscuring the horizon beyond.

As for the man himself, he seemed to have calmed down somewhat compared to when Sigurd first arrived. A glimmer of hope had returned to the blankness of his empty gaze, but a grim veil of despair still clung onto his expression. He had lost every shred of the motivation that once fueled him, and even now, the pain of losing a loved one to an arranged marriage continued to pester him.

“...Kjotve ruined my life that night, you know.” Eivor said, devoid of any emotion. “He took away my family, my home -- everything that I loved. The only life I ever knew was stolen from me in an instant, and the whole world shifted into something that I no longer recognized.” The young man peered at his companion, still leaning against the wall. “...He must die, Sigurd. Not just for me, but for everyone he’s hurt.”

The prince rested an elbow on his knee. “Kjotve’s judgement will come. The gods know of his cruelty just as we do. The Nornir will cut his thread soon enough.”

“Then let’s pray that I live long enough to witness that day.”

Taking a second to gather himself, Eivor broke free from the cage barring his mind for just a moment and looked Sigurd in the eye, returning to the same man the prince knew so well.

“...Anyway. Thank you for coming to check on me, Sigurd.” He whispered. “I appreciate it. I apologize if I was somewhat... harsh earlier. I’m just so lost right now.”

Sigurd wasn’t bothered. “I understand. We all have a breaking point. Even you. What’s important is that you don’t let it hold you down forever.”

“I know,” he acknowledged. “But sometimes, the temptation to give up is almost irresistible. The idea of being able to forget about all this, and live my life without fear or conflict -- it’s something that grows more alluring by the day. But I know I can’t let myself fall prey to these thoughts. I need to stay focused. I need to keep fighting. Even if it leads me into the Valkyries’ arms.”

Sigurd leaned closer to Eivor and placed a hand over his, mindlessly stroking it as if it were second nature.

“Well, wherever this path takes us, just remember that I’m here for you. You’ve saved my life multiple times already. It’s the least I can do.”

Suddenly realizing what he was doing, the prince came to an abrupt pause and instantly retreated his hand, silently cursing himself for not putting a leash on his affections. He backed away from Eivor and averted his eyes, stumbling over his next words.

“...F-Forgive me. I didn’t mean to--”

“--It’s alright.” Eivor interrupted. “You don’t have to explain.”

A deep sigh escaped Sigurd’s lips. “I just don’t understand why it’s so difficult to ignore the way I feel. I’m a married man now. Shouldn’t that be enough to hinder my fondness for you? Why does this always happen?”

The younger man offered some advice. “The best thing you can do right now, Sigurd, is to avoid me entirely. We both know how challenging it is to conceal our true thoughts. Perhaps we shouldn’t give them the chance to cross our minds at all.”

“But I can’t just pretend like you don’t exist. I still want you in my life, Eivor. I still want to be near you. We may not have the option of being together like before, but you’re not somebody I want to forget.”

Eivor’s face dimmed with sorrow. “Well, you may have to. For the sake of this alliance. Things are precarious enough as it is. We can’t risk anyone else finding out about our previous encounters.”

Sigurd disagreed. “You’re important to me. Nothing’s going to change that, no matter how much I may have to restrain myself. I just wish things were easier.”

The older man decided to put this conversation to an early end and rose from the ground, not wanting to let his emotions fester any longer.

“Anyway... I should get going. I imagine Ulfar’s still speaking with the jarl, and I’d like to join him. Do you want to come with me?”

Eivor refused the offer. “I’d rather be alone right now. I’ve had enough of discussing war and politics for one day.”

“Of course, I understand. You must be exhausted. Take this time to get some rest. I’ll tell you the outcome of our discussions later.” Sigurd took a few steps away from the Wolf-Kissed, leaving him alone on the ground. “Well then, I guess I’ll see you around, Eivor. Please, stay safe. Now that we know Kjotve is merely a stone’s throw away from Bjornheimr, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

The young man remained seated on the grass. “The same goes for you, Sigurd. Be careful out there. You’re the last person I want to lose.”

“Oh, believe me,” Sigurd replied, “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

#hjarta #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #eivor varinsson #male eivor #sigurd x male eivor #ac valhalla fanfic

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purplehairedwonder · 3 years

Text

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 11

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 3537 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey D. Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Franky, Smoker, Tashigi, Vergo Note: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

The story title is based on the Ellie Goulding song “Hearts Without Chains.”

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he's 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law finds a strange connection to Monkey D. Luffy, which offers a glimpse of something he's repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Smoker’s eyes widened. “Vergo? What is the head of G-5 doing here?”

“I’m here on business, Vice Admiral,” Vergo replied, inclining his head at Smoker.

“We called for backup but were told you were on leave,” the swordswoman said, frowning.

He never said whose business he’s here on, Law thought wryly as he sliced through the chains holding the two Marines captive. He stepped back out of the cage, eyeing Vergo. Law didn’t like the sense of satisfaction radiating off the older man. He’d heard what Law had said—but had anyone else?

“Doffy didn’t believe me before that you’re a traitor, but now he’ll have it in your own words, Law.”

Could Vergo have a line open to Dressrosa? Or perhaps he’d recorded what Law had said.

It also confirmed that Vergo had called Doffy with his report on Law’s defection, but apparently Doffy wasn’t buying it; the Warlord knew full well the safeguards he’d put into place to prevent Law from betraying him, after all. If Vergo had proof, though…

Law needed to make sure those words never left this room.

“I didn’t think you’d be so foolish as to blow your cover over a grudge,” Law commented, raising an eyebrow. He kept his tone purposefully light, but he expanded his Room and kept Kikoku hefted in front of him.

With a quick scan of his Room, he found Zoro’s swords and Shambled them into the man’s hands. Zoro let out a surprised yelp (one Law knew he would deny making until his dying day), and Law’s lip twitched as he glanced back and met the pirate hunter’s eye. The other man’s startled expression quickly shifted into a nod of appreciation as he replaced the blades at his side.

“Cover?” the swordswoman asked, following Smoker out of the cell.

Smoker jerked. “A traitor?” he growled, glancing between Law and Vergo. His gaze finally settled on the base commander. He shook his head, and Law could practically hear the pieces clicking into place in his brain. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You’re the one who’s been covering up the abductions of the children, aren’t you?”

“Don’t feel too bad, White Chase-ya,” Law said, and Smoker looked back at him suspiciously. “It’s not like Vergo was a traitor to the Marines. Vergo was a pirate from the start.”

“What?”

Law couldn’t help his lip curling into a sneer. “He’s Doflamingo’s most trusted subordinate. He joined the Marines on his orders fifteen years ago and climbed the ranks.”

“A pirate posing as a Marine,” Smoker hissed. “Shameful.” He shook his head, disgusted.

“How dare you,” the captain yelled at Vergo, betrayal tinging the anger in her voice. “Those children are innocent!”

“They’re sacrifices for the greater good, Captain Tashigi,” Vergo said simply. He’d been watching the exchange with a bored affect in place, though Law knew better than to take him at face value; Vergo was always poised to attack.

“The greater good?” the cat burglar snapped. “What greater good could possibly come from experimenting on children?”

“That is super messed up,” the cyborg agreed.

“A world ruled by Donquixote Doflamingo, of course,” Vergo said, as though the answer were obvious. And, Law supposed, for Vergo, it was. “Give me some credit for keeping up my cover, Smoker-kun. I’ve been on my guard ever since you transferred to G-5. It will be good to finally be rid of that concern.”

Vergo turned back to Law. “And who says I’m blowing my cover, Law?” Vergo had completely dispensed with Law’s title, apparently. He’d never respected Law as a successor, no matter how many times Doffy pushed him on it, and now he had the excuse to back it up. “None of them are leaving this island. I’ll file it away as a tragic accident at sea, as always.”

Law narrowed his eyes, reminded once more of the World Government’s coverup of Flevance’s destruction. Vergo, as far as Law was concerned, was proof pirates and soldiers weren’t so different, no matter what people like Smoker professed. Law knew he was no better, but he also never claimed to be.

“I won’t let that happen,” Smoker snarled. He didn’t have his jitte since he’d been captured—and Law wasn’t feeling particularly inclined to return the weapon that had taken him down with Seastone—but he didn’t let that stop him.

Smoker shifted into smoke form and charged Vergo with an outraged yell. He had to know about Vergo’s talent with haki and the effect it would have on his Fruit’s abilities, but he attacked anyway, his fury at his base commander’s betrayal driving him on.

“Smoker-san!” the captain called, worried.

“What is he doing?” Zoro muttered.

Smoker punched at Vergo with a smoky tendril, but Vergo blackened his arm and grabbed the smoke. Smoker cursed as Vergo spun and whipped him into the far wall. Smoker coughed and sagged to the floor. His second and the Straw Hats gasped, but Law took the moment of distraction to Scan Vergo; there was a Den Den Mushi in his pocket.

With a twitch of his fingers, the Den Den Mushi flew from Vergo’s coat toward Law. Vergo’s eyes snapped toward him.

“No!”

Law grabbed the snail from midair, and he pocketed it just as Vergo’s haki-coated stick slammed into his chest, tossing him like a rag doll into the wall behind him. The back of Law’s head hit the metal; his vision briefly went dark, and his stomach threatened to empty itself—another blow to his head was not what Law needed when he already had a concussion—but Law, taking a stabilizing breath, was able to collect his wits and keep his Room from falling. He Shambled himself across the room before Vergo could recover the Den Den Mushi.

“Brat!” Vergo snapped as he turned to find Law slumped over on one of the couches, having swapped places with a pillow. “But I suppose running away is always what you’ve done best.”

Law could vaguely hear the Straw Hats making some kind of commotion, though their words wouldn’t form in his ears; his blurry vision, however, was directed entirely toward the man striding toward him, a murderous intent barely contained beneath his haki-clad skin; Vergo knew he couldn’t kill Law before bringing him back to Dressrosa, but that wouldn’t stop him from beating the shit out of him—again.

Law just needed a moment to bring his vision back into focus…

Suddenly, Vergo was flying across the room. He crashed into the far wall and crumpled. Law blinked, his battered brain trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Belatedly, he turned to see Straw Hat, flanked by his crewmates, standing in the doorway, his rubbery arm returning to him with a loud snap.

Before dealing with that, Law pulled Vergo’s Den Den Mushi from his pocketed and noted in relief that there wasn’t a live line open. That meant Doffy hadn’t been listening in. Vergo still could have recorded his words, but Law would worry about that later. If Doffy hadn’t heard Law, then all Law had to do was prevent Vergo from bringing his words back to Dressrosa.

He pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the new arrivals. His vision was clearing, but his balance was still slightly off. The doctor in him was concerned, but the pirate in him knew he didn’t have the luxury of taking a break.

The two factions of Straw Hats were greeting each other happily. Straw Hat’s expression lit up as Law approached.

“Torao!”

“What are you doing here, Straw Hat-ya?” Law demanded. “We agreed you would wait.”

Straw Hat frowned. “We were talking, but then there was all this chaos on Torao’s end of the line. No one was responding. It sounded dangerous, so we decided to help.”

Ah. Law supposed he had gotten distracted by Vergo’s appearance and hadn’t considered how that would have sounded to the Straw Hats listening in.

“So, what exactly happened to cause this?” the cat burglar asked, gesturing between Straw Hat and Law. Though she’d agreed to trust Straw Hat, she was still suspicious of Law—and she was right to be.

Still, Law ignored her. They didn’t have time for this; Vergo wouldn’t stay down long, even after taking a hit like that.

“If you want to rescue the children, this would be the time to do it,” he said.

“What about him?” Straw Hat asked, nodding back toward Vergo.

Law grimaced as he noticed Vergo stirring. “I can handle it.”

“Because that went so well before,” Black Leg muttered.

Law ignored him as well. He didn’t have Seastone draining his abilities now. “I’ll handle it,” he repeated, looking directly at Straw Hat. Vergo might be taking an excuse to finish what he’d started thirteen years earlier, but Law wasn’t a terminally ill child anymore. It was unfinished business for them both.

“Luffy, what—” the cat burglar started.

But Straw Hat studied Law’s face for a long moment and seemed to find whatever he was looking for because he nodded. “Okay.”

Law felt a measure of relief at the response; it wasn’t that he needed Straw Hat’s permission to take on Vergo—alliance or not, he wouldn’t let anyone take this fight from him—but having his agreement was a lot easier. His crew would follow his lead, and they’d be able to accomplish both their tasks and move on to rescuing Law’s nakama.

“What?” several Straw Hats gasped.

“Okay,” Straw Hat repeated. “Torao will handle the Verto guy, and we’ll go after the kids.”

“You think I’m going to let that happen?” Vergo said. He’d risen to his feet and stood, arms crossed, in front of the doorway the Straw Hats would need to go through to find the children.

Straw Hat made to draw his arm back again, but before he could strike, Law held out a hand. Straw Hat stopped, eyeing Law curiously.

“Go. Caesar and Monet are still with the children. They’re both Fruit users, so don’t take them lightly.”

“But—”

Law Shambled Vergo into the cage, and, with a few twists of his fingers, retwined the wires holding the front of the cage together. The doorway was now open, and Vergo cursed. The cage wouldn’t hold him long, but it didn’t need to—just long enough for the others to leave.

Straw Hat whooped. “Thanks, Torao!” he called as he charged forward, the promise of a fight clearly drawing him like a magnet.

“Wait, Luffy!” the cat burglar called, running after her captain. “You don’t know where you’re going!”

Straw Hat’s laughter echoed against the metal walls as the Straw Hats and, Law noticed, Smoker’s second filed out of the open doorway. Smoker, however, remained where he was; he’d gotten to his feet while Law was talking to the Straw Hats. Law narrowed his eyes at the other man.

“This is my fight, White Chase-ya. Stay out of my way.”

“That man is a traitor to the Marines, and I plan to see justice done,” Smoker said, voice tight, as he strode up next to Law. “Don’t get in my way, pirate.”

Law and Smoker both turned at the sound of a metallic slam; Vergo had kicked the cage’s front out, the metal wiring sliding several feet across the floor before coming to rest. Though Vergo’s eyes were still hidden behind his glasses, Law could feel the anger radiating off the man.

“Enough,” he snapped, stepping back into the room.

“My thoughts exactly,” Smoker roared, charging at Vergo. “Traitor!”

Law sighed but didn’t intervene. Though he thought the man was being foolish considering how his previous attack had failed, Law could understand his rage at realizing Vergo, the base commander of his own unit, was a traitor.

However, Smoker wouldn’t get an advantage on Vergo this way; Vergo’s haki was superior to the other vice admiral’s. The first Corazon didn’t have a Devil Fruit to enhance his attacks, so he’d trained and honed his haki over the years until his masterful control and overwhelming power became what he was known for. For a Logia like Smoker, Vergo was a bad matchup.

Still, if he wanted to wear Vergo down while Law took a few moments to rest, Law wasn’t going to object. At full strength, Law wasn’t particularly concerned about taking Vergo on, but he didn’t want to take any chances when he was unsteady with a head injury. As the two vice admirals clashed, Law scanned the room until he found Smoker’s jitte. He could still feel the ghost of the Seastone tip slamming into his back, causing his Room to fall around him as weakness spread through his entire body. Law grimaced, but, grudgingly, he summoned the weapon into his hand.

“White Chase-ya,” he called as Smoker fell back from a swipe of Vergo’s bamboo stick.

“What?” Smoker demanded, not looking toward Law.

“Catch.” He tossed the jitte in the man’s direction.

Smoker’s eyes flicked in his direction then widened as he saw his weapon flying in his direction. He sent a smoky arm toward it, grabbing the hilt before Vergo could interfere. He grunted a nod in Law’s direction, clearly unhappy to owe Law anything else.

Even with his jitte, Smoker was clearly outmatched. Vergo’s haki-coated arms were able to strike Smoker’s smoke form, forcing him to revert to his base form. They traded blows, Vergo’s bamboo stick with Smoker’s jitte. Vergo’s haki-enhanced hits pushed Smoker into retreat.

“It’s no use, Smoker-kun,” Vergo taunted. “You’re no match for me.”

“You’ve betrayed G-5. The men trusted you. I’ll see you pay for that, pirate,” Smoker snarled back.

Vergo side-stepped Smoker’s blow and looked at him curiously. “You seem to care for those morons. Why?”

Smoker leapt at Vergo, only to be pushed aside by his bamboo. “Because they’re my men!”

Vergo tsked. “And that is your problem, Smoker-kun. Placing loyalty in trash. You will only end up discarded along with them.”

Smoker roared in response, but Vergo kicked out and tripped Smoker. Smoker fell backwards, hissing as his back hit the floor. His eyes widened as Vergo suddenly appeared above him, ready to strike a killing blow with his bamboo.

Deciding he’d seen enough, Law twitched his fingers, sending Vergo to the far side of the room.

“Law,” Vergo growled when he realized what had happened. “Don’t interfere. I’ll have time for you, too.”

Law rolled his eyes and turned back to Smoker. “Enough, White Chase-ya.”

“Dammit, Corazon! I can still—” He broke off, wincing at what Law would guess were broken ribs from Vergo’s many haki-enhanced blows.

“I can see that,” Law replied wryly. “Don’t make me move you, too.”

Smoker glowered but didn’t argue.

As Vergo started charging back toward Law and Smoker, Law Shambled himself across the room, directly into Vergo’s path. He swung Kikoku, but Vergo dodged just in time. A large chunk of the wall behind Vergo came down with a loud clatter. Law swung his blade several more times to create smaller pieces of metal from the fallen wall.

Law turned on his heel and immediately jumped back toward Vergo, using Kikoku to block a flurry of blows. His arms shook under the strain of countering the strikes, but he gritted his teeth then powered forward, driving Vergo back.

Lifting a finger, Law used Takt to lift the metal pieces he’d created and hurled them toward Vergo. The vice admiral cursed and dodged the large sheets of metal, knocking those he couldn’t dodge away with his stick.

“What’s wrong, Vergo?” Law taunted as he ducked under the flying pieces of metal to approach his target. “Not so easy when your target isn’t shackled in Seastone?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Law.”

Law sent a large piece of metal Vergo had already knocked away back toward Vergo and ducked behind it; Law followed its path, so when Vergo knocked it out of his way again, he jolted in surprise as Law suddenly appeared. He swung his bamboo to push Law back, but Law ducked under Vergo’s outstretched arm, catching the man off-guard.

Law shoved his free hand forward into Vergo’s chest. Mes.

Vergo gasped as his heart was expelled backward. He slumped forward as Law summoned the heart into his hand.

“Bastard,” Vergo hissed.

To his credit, Vergo’s heartrate remained steady as he kneeled in front of Law. Even now, he wouldn’t let his successor rattle him.

“I have your life literally in my hand, Vergo,” Law said, eyeing the heart. “I’d watch my tongue if I were you.”

“And what will you do with it, boy?” Vergo sneered, looking up. “Kill me?”

As Law felt the heart pulse steady in his hand, memories of Minion Island flashed in front of his mind’s eye.

Finding Vergo as he looked for help for the fallen Cora-san.

Vergo and Cora-san recognizing each other.

Vergo beating the wounded Cora-san, taunting him all the while.

Vergo beating Law, no sympathy for a dying child.

Vergo leaving them both, battered and bloody, in the snow to report to Doflamingo.

Law squeezed the heart, and Vergo writhed on the ground, pained groans coming through his clenched teeth.

Cora-san. Law released his grip on the heart. Vergo let out relieved gasps and slowly stilled.

“Corazon,” Smoker said slowly, as if afraid to spook Law. “He needs to face justice.”

Cora-san had always believed in justice. He hadn’t wanted to kill Doflamingo but bring him in. He wouldn’t want to kill Vergo either but instead, like Smoker, to bring him to justice.

Law wasn’t like them.

“Justice,” he scoffed bitterly, eyes never leaving the heart in his hand. “Where was justice when my little sister collapsed from Amber Lead Disease at seven years old and died as my parents’ clinic burned to the ground? Where was justice when soldiers destroyed my country then covered it up?” Law could hear his voice rising in his ears as he spoke, but he didn’t care. Years of pent-up rage flowed through his veins. “Where was justice when the man who saved me was murdered for it? Where was justice—”

He cut himself off at the sound of Vergo’s choking laughter, throat tightening as he realized what he’d just said.

“There’s no such thing as justice, Smoker-kun,” Vergo said between pained gasps. “There is only strength and weakness.” He turned his head to stare at Law. “And your precious Cora-san was weak, Law. Just like you.”

Fury rising in his chest, Law squeezed the heart again, Vergo’s screams a melody to his ears.

When Law let go of the heart once more, Vergo collapsed to the floor and panted. For years, Law had waited for the chance to avenge what Vergo had done to him and Cora-san that night; Vergo had haunted his nightmares, a looming figure of cruelty. But now, laid out on the ground and trying to hold onto his pride in his defeat, Law thought he looked pathetic.

And just like that, the fury drained out of him, leaving him feeling oddly hollow.

“So now what, Law?” Vergo asked between gasps for air. “You can’t kill me.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“What do you think Doffy would do to you if you did? To your crew?”

Law barked a humorless laugh. “If he thinks I’m a traitor, we’re all dead anyway.” He narrowed his eyes. “Might as well take you with me.”

Vergo frowned. “You know how the Family deals with traitors.”

“I do,” Law agreed.

“He’ll never let you go,” Vergo said. “Not until he’s done with you. Wherever you go, he’ll find you.”

“I know.” That was why he’d return to Dressrosa once his business here was done. “Don’t worry, Vergo-san. I’ll file it away as a tragic accident at sea.”

He tightened his grip around Vergo’s heart, watching as the man writhed. He felt… nothing. Vergo coughed blood, but the satisfaction Law had expected to feel at the sight of Vergo dying at his hands was missing, sucked into the hollowness in his chest.

“Corazon, you don’t have to do this,” Smoker spoke up. “I can take him in.”

Law tightened his grip further. “You really think Doflamingo would let his favorite subordinate be locked up in Impel Down?”

“Even Warlords don’t have the power to stop something like that,” Smoker replied with a frown.

Law shook his head. “He has more connections than that, White Chase-ya.” If Vergo left Punk Hazard alive, Law and his crew were assured slow, agonizing deaths. If Law killed Vergo now, there was still a chance this could be salvaged.

Vergo huffed a strained laugh around his cries. “He’s. Right. Smoker-kun. You. Have. No idea. Who. You’re. Dealing with.”

Smoker looked between the two pirates and shook his head but said nothing. Law continued squeezing the heart, waiting to feel something after all this time.

“What’s wrong, Law?” Vergo panted. “Don’t have. The stones. To finish it?”

“Hardly.”

Law closed his fist completely, crushing the heart until Vergo let out a final bloody gasp then went limp.

Still feeling that odd emptiness, he opened his hand dropped the still heart next to the corpse.

“That was for Cora-san.”

Next chapter

#I've had this plotted out for a while #but was struggling to get it on the page #I really like how it turned out though #Trafalgar Law #Vergo #Smoker #One Piece #One Piece fanfic #One Piece fanfiction #Caitlin's fic

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therainbowwillow · 4 years

Text

When Hell Freezes Over AU: Part 6

Apologies for the wait. I honestly did not have an idea for what, exactly, I wanted to happen. Then I found inspiration! And then Tumblr deleted my draft. So... overall, this took far too long. Enjoy! There will be an epilogue shortly.

As Hermes approaches the bar, he notices the air has already begun to warm. People trickle into the streets to witness the miracle they’d played no role in causing. How many of them had refused to help search for Orpheus? How many deaths could’ve been avoided if they’d found him sooner? How much of this had been his fault? As he’d run home, Hermes had seen so clearly every mistake he’d made. Every one of them could easily lead Orpheus to his death.

At a glance, the boy looks dead already. Orpheus’s faint heartbeat and shallow breaths remind Hermes that he still has a chance, a slim chance, to survive. He spares the bar no more than a glance, instead turning towards the train station. The cars are always pleasantly heated, another of Hades’s attempts to appease his wife. He lifts Orpheus inside and gently lays him across a booth.

Hermes finds a stack of blankets under a seat. He drapes them over Orpheus, bundling him up like a young child. He brushes the young man’s wet hair out of his eyes and takes a seat beside him. Orpheus tosses in his sleep, draws in a shaky breath.

Orpheus gasps and sits bolt upright. Hermes catches him before he falls back against the booth. “Orpheus?”

“We... we need to go,” Orpheus stammers.

“We don’t need to go anywhere. Eurydice will be here soon.”

“I can’t let them hurt her,” he pleads. “The Furies will come for us.”

“No, Orpheus, we’ll be fine.”

“Take me to Hades. Let him decide what will become of me. But if he lays so much as a finger upon Eurydice, I swear to the Styx-”

“Orpheus...” Hermes warns.

“I swear to the Styx I will end him.”

Hermes pulls him closer. “Hades has kindness in his heart. You’ll both be alright.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean-”

“Hush. I don’t want your apologies.” Hermes pops the cork out of a nearby bottle, its contents still steaming. “From the River Phlegethon. It’ll help.”

Orpheus takes a sip. He winces. “It’s hot.”

Hermes nods. “But it will help. Get some rest.” Hermes gently lays him back against the booth.

...

The doors roll open and Persephone steps inside, half-carrying Eurydice. Almost immediately, the train begins to move, willed forwards by some unseen driver.

“Is he alright?” the young woman asks, her voice trembling. Persephone lowers her into a booth.

Hermes hands her a stack of blankets. “Fine. He needs rest.”

“What happens now?” she wonders.

“You won’t be separated from Orpheus,” Hermes says. “You will be spared from the worst of your punishment.”

“How can you be certain? Orpheus...” she lowers her voice. “You saw the chaos he caused.”

Hermes nods. “My agreement with Lord Hades stands.”

“And what was that agreement, exactly?” Persephone inquires. “The terms. Specifics. I know my husband.”

“Eurydice was to stop the winter,” he explains. “She succeeded, which spares them from the worst possibilities. The Furies were... not satisfied, but Hades’s deal was final. I ensured Orpheus’s safety, as well as Eurydice’s. Your husband will decide his terms, but there will be a reward for Eurydice’s success. And like I said, the worst is ruled out.”

Persephone half-smiles. “You always were a good liar, Hermes.”

He glances at Orpheus. Afraid, Eurydice thinks, for her lover or of him? “Persephone?” He almost sounds offended.

“Not a lie, I suppose, but certainly not the whole truth,” Persephone corrects herself. “My husband did not let you off so easily. What did you sacrifice? What did you sign away?”

“Nothing,” he snaps, anger flaring in his eyes.

“Hermes... After all these centuries, I’d have hoped you would have more trust in me.”

“Seph...”

“Give me the truth.” Her voice is firm.

“That’s the trade, I suppose,” he mutters. “Your trust.” She narrows her eyes, says nothing. “Stop him. By whatever means necessary. That was the deal.”

“If I failed...” Eurydice begins.

“You wouldn’t have gotten the chance,” Hermes tells her.

“The knife.” She reaches into her pocket and draws out the blade she had so desperately tried to rid herself of. It had returned. It had always returned to her pocket. She examines it now, up and down. Two metal snakes weave their way up the hilt. “Take it,” she growls.

He does. In his hands, the blade transforms into a staff, wrapped up with the very same serpents. “This was my only choice.”

“A 50/50 shot to kill Orpheus?”

“The alternative...”

“What the hell did you agree to?” Eurydice snarls.

He looks away. “The knife. You wouldn’t have been given a choice. You... still belong to Hades. He would have guided your hand and Orpheus...” his voice trails off.

She smiles, as if admiring his madness and she laughs, soon cut off by sobs. Hermes seems to consider giving her some gentle touch of comfort, but Persephone is at her side first, shooting him a sharp glare. “You...” Eurydice wipes her eyes. “You would’ve watched me murder him.”

“Would you have preferred the furies?” he asks, not rhetorically, Eurydice realizes. She remembers the screams of disloyal workers. Thieves who had stolen from the work lines. Shades who had dishonorably killed men in life.

“Yes.” Her answer is almost a gasp. Would she really prefer his pain over... What? Her guilt? She knows it is selfish, but to kill him would have been torturous. No amount of Lethe water could wash away ingrained horrors. And oh, how desperately she would have tried to forget.

The rest of the train ride is silent. Hermes sits as far from Eurydice as he can get, never taking his eyes off of Orpheus. Persephone speaks under her breath, as if preparing an argument. Eurydice stays at her lover’s side, half wishing he would wake.

She remembers what she had seen in the woods. The road to Hadestown. But the underworld hadn’t taken her. She had woken, Orpheus in her arms. He’d been so cold. So helpless. He hardly looks any better now. His wounds had been bandaged, but he would bear scars. The madness of his attackers would survive by him.

...

The train lurches to a halt. If Orpheus notices, he makes no motion to show it, still deeply asleep. Between Persephone and Eurydice, he’s easily carried. Orpheus had never been heavy. Always slender, light as a feather. His time in the woods hadn’t done him any favors.

Hades meets them at the station. “Persephone.”

“Husband.”

“Once again,” he remarks, “mortals prove themselves more capable than one might expect. Take the boy to my office.”

Persephone scoffs. “What now?”

“It is warm, Seph,” Hermes says.

She whirls, dropping Orpheus into Eurydice’s arms. She catches him with a grunt. “And who asked you?” Persephone snaps.

“He is my son. I haven’t forgotten my love-”

“Love?” she mocks. “You would have let him die. Not a word to me. Not a word to the girl who would’ve killed him.”

“He lives,” Hermes reminds her.

“For how long?” Eurydice asks under her breath, quiet enough that the others don’t hear her. Orpheus looks terrible. His hair is matted and his skin is still cold to the touch. She’s reminded, painfully, of her journey back to Hadestown after he had turned. She feels him slipping, just as she had. She speaks up now, louder this time. “Something’s wrong.”

Hermes checks Orpheus’s pulse and presses a hand against his forehead. “He’s too cold. Listen to Lord Hades. I know it seems... well...” He lowers his voice. “Eurydice, he’s your shot at a future. Both of you. Even if Orpheus doesn’t survive.”

She flinches at the proposition, but rises to her feet, aided by Hermes, who takes the burden of Orpheus’s weight. Persephone rolls her eyes, but Eurydice waves her away. “The office,” she agrees.

Hades guides them down the thin streets of Hadestown, beneath high rises, where thousands of souls reside, and finally to his own office building. The first twenty-five floors, Persephone had explained once, over a bottle of wine, make up his bedroom. And the other seventy-five are his office and personal library. Eurydice had assumed it was a joke. But now the building stretches up before her and she’s sure there must be more than a hundred floors.

Persephone pulls open the doors. “Welcome to the castle,” she says, sarcastically. Hades steps inside, letting his hand brush against his wife’s as he moves past her. Persephone guides them to a lounge room where Hermes lays Orpheus across the over-sized couch. Eurydice strikes a match and the fireplace instantly roars with flames.

Hades takes a seat in the stiffest chair in the room. Persephone drags her cushy armchair beside his nearly solid seat and sinks into it. “A deal,” Hades begins.

Persephone groans loudly. “You’d think the God of the Dead would have a little more empathy,” she emphasizes the word, “for the sick and dying.”

Hermes just about collapses into his seat, across the room from the others. An argument, he remembers. He needs to pose some argument. The room is spinning. He blinks, trying to force the spots out of his vision. He’d felt like this since his first venture into the woods. He’d considered mentioning it, but he’d never found the chance.

“And I don’t just mean Orpheus,” Persephone adds. “Hermes?” He glances up at her.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters.

“Go find yourself a blanket,” she tells him. He doesn’t move. If he stands, he’s pretty sure he’ll pass out.

“Can we just... get on with it?”

“You want a drink?” He shakes his head slightly. He hadn’t eaten or drunk much at all since Orpheus had disappeared. It made it easier, somehow, to know exactly how his son felt. It was starting to wear on him. Hunger, thirst, his lack of sleep... but a god should be able to bear it, and so he does.

“I will not waste time,” Hades continues. “It appears that our poet...” Hermes almost smiles. When had Hades begun to consider Orpheus anything more than ‘the boy’? A phrase he said as if the young man was a bag of dirt. The King of the Underworld continues: “May not have long to live.”

Eurydice squeezes her lover’s hand. Hermes hadn’t dared approach them once he’d set Orpheus down, but even from across the room, he sees how shallow Orpheus’s breaths have become.

“If he dies, he is mine. No amount of willing otherwise will change that fact, so we must come to an agreement before he does,” Hades says, matter-of-fact. “Eurydice,” he flicks the young woman a coin. “He may need it. Bodies fade far faster the nearer they are to the Styx. You won’t have time for a funeral rite.”

She nods numbly and slips the coin into Orpheus’s hand. “Now, our deal,” Hades goes on, “Your achievements are admirable, Eurydice. As are your lover’s. I will not keep you apart from him. Still, he cannot simply go free. Orpheus killed at least a few dozen mortals by his own hand and many more by the power of his storm.”

Hermes tries to say something, but he finds no sound comes out of his mouth. Persephone fills in. “Hades... he’s a boy in love.”

The King of the Dead nods. “I have no desire to punish him. To the dismay of The Furies, that is. However, I must keep an eye on him. This will ensure his safety, to some degree, for our relatives on Olympus may not find him here.”

“Their terms then?” Persephone says, bluntly.

Hades sighs. “Nothing harsh. He has suffered the loss of his lover twice over and he will contend with the horrors he saw for the rest of his days.” Eurydice strokes Orpheus’s tear-stained cheek.

Hades continues: “The underworld is overpopulated. I had not planned for so many new shades. I have no housing or work for them, so they will be sent to the surface to live out their lives as they deserve. Hermes, you will guide their souls to the overworld. Slowly. Do not disrupt the flow of Hadestown.”

Eurydice smiles, solemnly. Her lover will appreciate that, she knows.

“As for the both of you, Orpheus will remain underground for the time being, as will you, Eurydice. Do not think of this as cruelty,” he quickly adds. “You will be safe and provided for. Your stay will not be forever.”

“How long is ‘not forever?’“ Eurydice asks carefully.

“For now, let us say ten years. You signed a contract, Eurydice, so you are legally mine,” he reminds her. “Orpheus did not. One of you is bound to this realm, the other is not. Thus, once I deem Orpheus ready to leave or our ten years is up, you will together spend six months on the surface and six months underground. Half the year for your death, half the year for his life.”

“That’s all?” Persephone asks.

Hades groans. “Don’t sound so surprised, my love.”

“Do we have a deal?” he asks Eurydice.

"And if he dies?” she mumbles.

“The deal stands. He did not sign a contract, he is not bound to this realm.”

“Then I accept your terms,” Eurydice says. “And in the name of Orpheus, I accept your terms in his place.”

#when hell freezes over au #hadestown au #hadestown #therainbowwrites

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lablass-2882 · 3 years

Text

The Links vs Amusement Parks

A modern Au where the Links go to an amusement park. Enjoy the chaos.

Part 1 The Coaster!

Why me?

Twilight sighed as he slowly approached the rollercoaster with Wild and Wind. Why? Why did it have to be me; he asked himself again. Why did he have to go on this death trap with his most mischievous younger brothers? Why couldn’t War, or Legend go with them?

Twilight didn’t have to ask himself twice, he already knew the answer. It was equal parts, Wild being Wild, War and Legend being in the midst of another betting war and Twilight being the most responsible of his brothers. Argo. He, had to ride the deathtrap with Wind and Wild. But he asked himself again anyway. Why me?

Wind was absolutely gitty with excitement. Almost to the point where Twilight thought he was going to vibrate through the metal guardrail that lined the walkway. He had been waiting weeks for this brand-new coaster to open. And for weeks, Twilight dreaded another visit to the Amusement Park.

He could not fathom why Wild and Wind loved this place so much. Granted, he was one of the few who didn’t like this place. Most of his brothers loved going here. He however really wished that he was somewhere, anywhere else.

Wild punched him on the shoulder. Come on Twi, it’ll be fun.

Tell that to my already curing stomach.

Really, already?

I don’t do coaster, Wild……

Yeah…. But this one will be different.

Different how?

Different by how fast it flings you up and over that peak. Wind pointed towards the peak of the coaster. It's 400ft in the air and you get shot up it like a cannon! AND-

I know Wind! It is all done by water pressure. You’ve nagging me about it for weeks.

Wind pouted. It's cool. That’s all.

Twilight sighed again.

Sorry, Wind… I just-

Don’t like coasters, we know. Wild finished. BUT! Look on the bright side. It’s better than doing chores, right?

Or drills, or being grounded? Wind added.

Twilight groaned. He’d rather be mucking out the stables than being flung up a straight incline on a slingshot.

Meanwhile, near the carnival games….

I cannot believe that we lost to Sun. Again!

YOU lost to Sun. Again. I demand a rematch! Best 37 of 75! Legend’s eyes were set ablaze with anger and determination. War, on the other hand, looked utterly defeated and pleaded for mercy.

~Okay Legend~, Sun sang in her usually sugar-sweet tone. One more round. War you want in? She glanced back a Warriors with a cunningly sweet smile. War wisely opted out.

Nope. I wasted enough money for one day. Legend you are on your own.

Traitor!

Nope! Not falling for it. Nope, I am out. I have already wasted 200 bucks on these stupid games and I am done. Warriors stomped over to where Time and Sky were sitting. Time merely raised his eyebrow as Warrior sat down next to him.

Don’t even ask.

Fair enough. Time shrugged and watched another round of chaos with Sky and Warriors.

He’s going to be broke by the end of the night. Sky hummed.

I’m surprised he's not broke already. Time questioned.

He is. He keeps phone his boyfriend for more money. Warrior grumbled.

Oh! Are he and Ravio finally official? Sky beamed at Warriors with a hopeful smile.

No. Legend lives and breathes deniability. They could be married and Legend would insist that they’re “just friends”

Not that you're doing any better there, playboy. Time pointed out.

Okay first off, Rude. Warriors dramatically scoffed. And second. Just because you’re the only one of us that’s married doesn’t mean that you get to stand on any moral high ground here. I still remember all the trouble you and Ruto got into, mister.

I was twelve and it was a schoolyard crush. Malon’s my wife and that the end of it.

Um… Sun and I are engaged so-

Doesn’t count yet Sky. Warriors cut him off. And “school yard-crush” my ass! That “crush” lasted until high school buddy.

Freshmen year hardly counts as high school

So, you admit that it wasn’t just a schoolyard crush. Anything else you want to own up to? I’m all ears.

War… this isn’t the time nor-

I saw you kiss a guy, last week. Time added smugly. And knowing you… there was probably some tongue.

Warrior’s face was beet red in embarrassment. He was also stuttering and flaying about; searching for a response.

Oh! Do we get to know his name this time? Sky leaned over knowingly, with a mischievous look on his face. Or was it just another taste?

Meanwhile at the waterpark with Four and Hyrule.

I am not too SHORT! Four shouted at the teen managing the water slide.

I’m… sor…sorry…s..sir. The teen stuttered out. My man.. man.. manager will fire me if I let another kid go down the ride. The last two near broke their arms in a fight.

KID?! Four was beyond riled up by this point

Let it go Four, we’ll just find another ride.

But?!

There’s no need to risk anyone's job, let's just…. go…. Before we cause another scene. Hyrule tried to quiet down his angered brother, while also not thinking about the growing number of eyes staring at them.

FINE!

Four stormed off back down the steps. With Hyrule on his heels, quietly trying to not meet anyone’s gaze as they did. Once at the bottom and well out of sight of the crowds, Four unleashed his anger.

Can you believe this?! KID? KID! Just who does that guy think he is? I am not a kid. I’m goddess dammed sixteen years old for goddess’s sake!

Four… just…. Take a breath…. And … calm down…..

NO!

Please? Hyrule whined. I really don’t want to get banned from another ride. Especially after what Wind and Terra did last time we were here.

Yeah, yeah, I remember. They got into a huge fight and dragged half of the kids in the park into it. Broken bones, and pride all around.

And they both got banned from the waterpark. Not to mention we’re food court, the video game lounge, the petting zoo, the-

I get it. Four stopped Hyrule from listing all the places he and their brothers have been banned from for… questionable behavior.

Honestly, I’m surprised they haven’t banned us from the park altogether.

It’s because the other parks are paying them to keep us so that we don’t go to any other park. Four joked.

Hyrule laughed. Yeah, you’re probably right. All the other parks quake in fear of the Link brothers. Ooohhh spooky. A family of nine brothers that cause utter chaos where ever we go.

Speaking of spooky, Four pipped up. You want to ditch this place and go check out that new haunted house? I heard that is super scary.

Ha, you know it. Let’s jam! Hyrule pointed finger guns at Four and did his best Cowboy Bebop impression.

Ugh. Hyrule, we got to work on your reference game.

Hey, I thought I did pretty good this time.

Four just shook his head. Why his brother loved 90’s anime, he would never know.

Back at the coaster.

Twilight looked up at the looming coaster. He tried not to think about it.

He tried not to think about being flung at high speeds up a vertical incline while being strapped into a metal cart. He tried not to think about how the safety bar is essential a thin and a very breakable metal bar across his waist. He tried not to think about the computer that calculated the weight of the cars messing up and not launch the cart up the slope with enough speed. Causing the cart to come sliding back down to the platform only to recalculate and be launched up again. As Wind was so kindly explaining to Twilight as they stood in this goddess forsake long line.

You think we’ll crest the top on the first try? Wind oh so innocently asked with his best “I’m-not-causing trouble-voice”.

Maybe? Wild shrugged. He tuned out Wind ramble about an hour ago. He was too busy texting new recipes to Sidon to notice Twilight growing paler with every passing minute.

Goddess, I hope not. Twilight sighed. One ride is enough

OH, come on Twi. It's not that bad. Plus, we get a free ride out of it. Wind quipped back.

We have membership passes, Wind. All the rides are free.

Okay…. We get a second ride without having to wait in line….?

Twilight sighed again. Can this line move any slower? I want to get this over with before my stomach upchucks from worry.

HA! You’re becoming a worry-wort just like the Old-Man. Wind teased.

Well with brothers like you, who can blame me.

Hey.

Gess, Twi. Calm down. We can ride one of your favorites when we’re done. Maybe go to the Petting Zoo? Wild tried to calm down him down, finally registering how pale he had gotten.

We’re banned from the Petting Zoo. Twilight glared.

Well…

And the Food Court, and the Video Game Lounge and-

We get it! You don’t like it here, alright. Don’t blame me for wanted to have some fun. Wind pouted.

Twilight grimaced. Sorry, Wind. I know you’re excited and you’ve been looking forward to this. I’m…. just… not a coaster fan.

Then why’d you agreed to come? Wind glared back with puffed-out cheeks.

Because you two are my brothers and I like spending time with you two.

And, Malon would kill you if you left us unsupervised? Wild added

And Malon would kill me if I left you two ding-bats unsupervised. Twilight repeated

Wind snickered. Nah. You could just use your puppy dog eyes and blame it on Time. Malon listens to your lies.

Hey! I don’t lie.

Wind and Wild glare at Twilight with raised eyebrows.

Often……

Back with Legend and Sun.

GGAAHH!!! How! HOW! In the NAME of the Goddesses! Do you keep winning! Legend yelled with all the fury of a sore loser.

Better luck next time, Legend. And no more calling your bf for more funds. We made a deal. Once you’re out, you are out.

GGAAHHH!!

Sun giggles.

AND! Ravio is not my Boyfriend. We are just friends. Got it. Legend was pointed at Sun with a crimson blush across his checks.

Aww Legend, you don’t have to deny your feelings. You know (Sun enters scheming mode.) Sky and I can offer some love advi-

I don’t need your advice.

I can flirt just fine on my own. AND! Ravio and I are JUST friends. I don’t need your mettling.

ME! Mettle in my future brother-in-law’s affairs? Never. Sun playfully scoffs.

Says the woman trying to set up Twilight with her classmate and Warriors with her personal trainer.

I can’t help it if I have an eye for match-making.

You really don’t.

Sun’s eyes narrow. Okay! Mister Denial. If you and Ravio are not together… Then you won’t mind if I post these pictures of you two from Warriors Party last week? Or on longs walks? Or at your sister Aviary?

Your lying! There is no way that you have pictures.

Oh! But I do. Your sister and I text quite often. She takes out her phone and waves in front of Legend.

Legend face blushes an even brighter red. Your…. Your lying….

I think this one this the cutest. Sun chimes as she shows Legend a picture of him and Ravio sitting happily on a bench holding hands and drinking coffee.

Delete that!

Nope.

Sun!

Never! Sun takes off in a run.

Sun get back here!

Meanwhile not paying attention to a nearby Bench….

Okay! But you have no room to talk here, Time.

I can and I will. You are far too judge.

It’s called standards!

It’s called being a damn prick! You’ve been sleeping around with strangers for months now.

I have not!

You’ve had three different partners in the past two months, War. Sky leaned in. We’re not judging. We’re… just… worried that’s all.

You don’t need to worry. I am fine!

You’re in as much denial as Legend.

That’s a low blow coming from you, Mister. Warriors pointed at Time. That’s a grand statement coming from the man that took two years to pop the question to Malon. Even after you bought that damn gaudy rings.

I wanted the perfect moment! Sue me, for putting thought into purposing to the love of my life.

Two. Goddess. Damned. Years.

That was a lot of time…. Time….. Sky pipped up again.

Sky. Stay out of it. You wanted to purpose to Sun after the second date.

Hey. Sky shrugged. When you know, you know.

Warriors rolled his eyes.

And pry tell how you even describe that feeling, Sky? You fall in love with a cup of coffee every morning.

Sun makes really good coffee. Sky chimes in.

Of course, she does. Warrior sighs.

Malon makes good coffee…

Not you too!

End of chapter one.

The rest of it is posted here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30189333/chapters/74384583

I’ll update it soon.....ish....

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legendary-assassin-stance · 4 years

Text

When The Sun Goes Down

(CONTENT WARNING FOR THIS FIC: timeloop bad end AU, copious amounts of graphic depictions of character death, gore, suicide)

(faelan belongs to @cryptid-murellow , ana+cerise+myrr belong to @guide-for-the-lost , bryok+mori belong to me, and oroyal belongs to a friend (who i don’t believe has a tumblr??))

HAVE 11.5K WORDS OF PURE PAIN

------

All Anayrin heard was Faelan cry out in pain, and he whipped his attention towards the necromancer, completely disregarding the Duchess he was currently squared off with. He could only watch as Fae crumpled to the sandy ground, Bryokbrann standing over him; the older sylvari’s offhand dagger was coated in lifesap and he seemed genuinely dazed at the series of events that left him -- and the weapon -- covered in gore.

The chronomancer let out a distressed, “Fae!” and managed to dart forward a few steps before pain lashed up his leg and he fell. Twisting on the ground, he could only watch in horror as the Duchess sauntered towards him, sand crackling underneath her hooves, greatsword having sliced clean through his hamstring to keep him from escaping her. “Poor little Dreamer, can’t even save his friends,” she purred, flexing her grip on her greatsword pommel. “What are you going to do now, I wonder? Cry? Beg me to spare your life? Perhaps I can have my darling Duke raise your friend from the dead. Wouldn’t that make you happy, to have him back?”

Ana’s breathing hitched, already feeling tears budding at the corner of his eyes -- what was he going to do? He was wounded and useless like this, unable to get back to his feet without a healer of some sort. Cerise knew this already, the unforgiving smile on her face evidence enough of that. “Maybe I’ll spare you the torment of it all, and simply kill you. You’d prefer that, though, wouldn’t you?” Her smile sharpened as quick as a knife, and Ana felt the pit in his chest widen. “You lived knowing you could never stop me, and you’ll die knowing I’ll make sure the rest of your pathetic little party dies slow, painful deaths at my hands.”

The greatsword raised like a guillotine above him and Ana choked out a sob; this was how he was going to die? On the ground, helpless, unable to defend himself? The weapon whistled as it was forcefully brought down, and the chronomancer flinched, instinctively snapping his eyes shut as he waited for the agonizing impact.

But it never came.

The sound of two bodies colliding together made Ana startle, eyes opening wide as his gaze landed on Morrionach, who had charged from nowhere and barreled herself into Cerise with a righteous anger that could cower the human gods themselves. The mirage had lost her scythe somewhere in the battle, but all the same planted herself directly between him and the Duchess. “Mori, I--” he started, falling silent when she subtly motioned with a hand; a quick flick of her fingers that was unnoticeable to anyone but him.

The Duchess had already recovered from Mori’s assault, and the look on her face was venomous. “You--! How dare you strike a Duchess? How dare you strike royalty?!”

“You’re as royal as Zhaitan’s rotting corpse, bitch,” Mori spat, and the shock on Cerise’s face would’ve been comical, if it hadn’t instantly twisted into a look of pure fury. With a piercing shriek, Cerise moved to swipe her greatsword at Mori; in a fluttering burst of blood-red butterflies and flower petals, the mirage suddenly became five and the created clones scattered all around the Duchess in a flurry of movement.

With deadly aim, Cerise methodically took out every one of Mori’s clones, and terror overtook Ana when he realized what was going to happen next. “Mori!” he screamed in warning, right as Cerise whirled around to catch the mirage with her greatsword as Mori leapt at her back. Mori choked out a noise as she impaled herself with her own momentum, fingers scrabbling uselessly on the metal to try and pull herself off of the weapon that she’d already slid halfway onto.

Cerise cackled as Mori writhed, watching her struggle for a few moments longer before she twirled on the spot, whipping her greatsword around with enough force to fling the mortally wounded sylvari off of the blade. Lifesap splattered the area in an arc as Mori was sent crashing directly into Bryok, who had launched himself ferally at the Duchess once he realized who she had impaled.

Ana broke then, howling with such a primal agony that the noise even gave Cerise pause, the Duchess watching with the ghost of wariness in her eyes as the chronomancer started to half-crawl, half-claw his way through the sand towards where Mori and Bryok lay, the necromancer now sobbing and clutching the body of his sister close to his chest.

Fae was gone, and now Mori was too. The most important people in his life, suddenly and violently ripped from him in the blink of an eye; it was more than the chronomancer could bear and he finally stopped moving, curling up where he lay. A slowly-rising wail escaped his throat as he buried his face in his hands. They were gone, they were gone, how could he get them back? How could he continue on without them? He didn’t want to go on without them. There had to be a way he could fix this, there had to. He was a chronomancer, surely he could bend the rules a bit?

The Duchess, and the rest of the Nightmare Court gathered there, had only moments to react before a violent explosion of magic rocked the entire area, throwing anyone still standing to the ground. When the sand and debris settled, the only thing left where Ana had been laying was the imprint of a clock, scorched into the sand by the sylvari’s wildly-cast Well of Eternity.

No one noticed a lone sylvari slip away amongst the ensuing chaos, body slunk low to the ground -- the only member of the Dreamer party that had lived through the flurry of battle, thanks to his drawn-out tangle with the Duchess’ personal assassin; left alive, at what cost, Oroyal wasn’t entirely certain of. All he knew was that he was alone to his own devices in this shitty desert… again.

•••••••••••

It was the sounds of Mori and Fae chatting as they moved about their camp that made Ana’s eyes open, and he sat up from where he had apparently dozed off into a restless nightmare, curled up on his sleeping roll. He groaned and stretched before unfurling his wings, flapping them hard a few times before settling them against his back and pushing himself to his feet.

A creeping, uncomfortable feeling crawled up his spine, however, and his gaze roamed around the small oasis they’d hidden out to await the Court catching up to them. Both of his dearhearts were breaking down the camp, gathering up all of their supplies so they’d be ready to move at a moment’s notice. Ana rolled up his sleeping roll and wandered over to where the other two were, the frown on his face steadily growing as he realized what -- or, more importantly, who -- was missing from this scene. “Where’s Oroyal?” he asked, fear curling in his abdomen when both Fae and Mori looked up at him with bewilderment.

“Who’s that, dearheart?” Fae asked, curiosity overtaking his confusion.

Instantly, Ana realized that he had not woken up from the nightmare he’d been having. ‘I’m still in it, apparently.’

Knowing that pushing the topic would only cause even more distress for everyone involved, Ana swallowed down the lump in his throat and let it slide with a small shake of his head. “Nothing, I must be getting confused with a dream I had. Heard the name somewhere, maybe.”

Fae nodded, seemingly appeased with that, and went back to what he was doing, though Mori still kept her gaze on Ana, the smallest of frowns curving the corner of her mouth. “Are you sure you’re fine, sunshine? You look a bit wilted,” she commented, straightening up to take a critical look at him and gently prodding his cheek with a finger. Ana huffed lightly, lifting a hand to lace his fingers with Mori’s, the ghost of a grin crossing his face.

“Everything’s alright, moonlight. Just… didn’t sleep well. Worried about the upcoming battle.”

“Hmph. There’s nothing to worry about, as long as we distract the Duchess and her little pet assassin. If there’s one thing I know about my brother…” Mori trailed off, a slow sigh escaping her. “It’s that he’s not going to do anything that’ll hurt me. I don’t know what Cerise has done to him these past handful of years, but he still... cares.” She turned to gather up the rest of their things, mumbling what Ana assumed he wasn’t supposed to hear. “I’m more worried that he’s going to get himself killed.”

Ana frowned sadly as Mori moved off to finish cleaning up camp and he hugged his sleeping roll tighter to his chest. “If only you knew, Mori,” he murmured, wings fluttering morosely as he followed after to help the new party of three get everything prepared for the rapidly-approaching battle.

---

The Dreamers and Nightmare Court had squared off, lined up across from one another on the battlefield that had been chosen, a stretch of desert that afforded a clean view for both parties. Myrrvren was nowhere in sight, which mirrored the battle before. Ana felt sick, worry clinging to him as his eyes assessed the situation: both parties stared one another down, neither willing to be the first to move; Mori seemed like she was about to vibrate out of her skin in anger and, even from across the space between them, and Ana could tell that Bryok looked dangerously nauseated, gaze locked onto his sister.

How was this going to be different than the last time? It was a stomach-churning thought that kept looping in Ana’s head as his eyes darted around. Oroyal was gone, so what did that mean for the rest of them? Who would distract Cerise’s sniper? More importantly, what would happen if all of this played out in relatively the same manner as the original battle?

Suddenly, Cerise took a single step forward, and all of the Dreamers tensed, expecting an attack. “So,” she started, hands folded behind her back as she appraised them all one-by-one. “It has come down to this, then. Are you quite sure you don’t want to join the Court? This can still be ended without bloodshed, you know.”

Ana wanted so, so desperately to speak up; to agree with Cerise, to keep his dearhearts alive. But instead, he swallowed his tongue, and let Mori speak like he knew she would. “Do you truly think us stupid enough to trust your words?” she snarled defiantly, and a bubbly giggle escaped the Duchess, though her gaze sharpened intensely on Mori.

“I do not think you stupid at all, my dear. Merely… misguided.”

“All the Nightmare has done is take our loved ones away, and corrupt everything it touches!” Fae piped up, and Cerise’s narrowed glare settled on him instead, sizing him up like a piece of butcher meat.

“Everyone who has joined my Court has done so on their own volition. But if you already think that we take those dearest to you away, then I suppose we should start, yes?”

‘This is when Oro is supposed to ambush Myrr,’ Ana realized with a jolt, and then everything happened all at once.

Cerise dipped her chin down ever-so-slightly, and the sound of a shot rang out in the silence that had fallen after the Duchess’ words. All of the Dreamers startled at the sound, having not expected it, but it became instantly apparent that the shot was not a warning one. Fae gasped, the sound falling from his mouth gurgled, and collapsed forward onto his knees as his hands flew to press against the gaping hole that now decorated his chest. Lifesap coated his hands as he instinctively tried to use what healing magic he was capable of to close the wound.

Mori took one look at the mortally-wounded sylvari, and then her murderous gaze locked squarely onto the Duchess. With a bone-chilling scream, she leapt towards Cerise, who simply grinned at the action, moving out of the way of the mirage’s wild first scythe swing. Ana jolted to Fae’s side, falling to his knees as well, the necromancer practically slumping unconscious into his arms, and the chronomancer couldn’t help but feel torn in two as he watched Mori and Cerise dart and twirl in a dizzying, deadly tango.

What could he do? What could he do?! He was terrified to use his Well of Eternity again to try and heal the necromancer, unsure what it would do to the already-unstable time loop that they were caught in. Fae was dying, and none of the medical supplies they had was going to be enough to repair the damage that had been done.

“You’ve already lost! One down, and nothing to show for it!” Cerise hollered in glee, using her agility to outspeed any of Mori’s melee attacks, taunting the mirage at every twist and turn. “How much more must I rip so maliciously from you before you learn your lesson?”

Ana watched, unable to help in either situation, the sickened feeling in his stomach only growing stronger. Finally, it seemed as if the Duchess, tired of their little game and in a singular graceful motion, swung her greatsword from the sheath on her back, blocking a particularly vicious scythe swipe from the mirage. With a startling fast follow-up movement, she twisted the weapon from Mori’s grip and darted a hand forward to clasp it tight around the mesmer’s throat.

Lifting Mori up off the ground, Cerise watched with amusement as the smaller sylvari hissed and spat insults like a cat picked up by its neck scruff. “You chose so very poorly, sweetheart,” Cerise purred, lifting her free hand to wave it in Bryok’s direction -- it was only then that Ana noticed the bright, glowing red gem that glittered from a ring on Cerise’s hand. “It’s a shame you declined my offer. We would’ve made quite the pair, you and I.” The older necromancer stiffened at the hand movement, eyes suddenly glazing over, and he walked forwards with an unsteady gait that didn’t seem to be his own. And, judging from his expression, Bryok was startlingly aware of what was happening, yet unable to stop it.

‘Mind control?’ Ana thought, because that was the only thing he could do in this situation. Once more, he could only sit on the sidelines as the two most important people in his life got slaughtered before his very eyes. Helpless. Useless.

Bryok drew his greatsword, the grimace on his face showing that he was very much trying to fight whatever hold Cerise had on him, and Mori’s eyes widened as the realization of what the Duchess was making her brother do finally clicked in her mind.

But by then, it was too late.

With a cry of pain from Mori, the reaper’s greatsword was plunged straight through her chest, and a sickening sound followed afterwards as the weapon was violently yanked downwards, disemboweling her in one swift movement. Her scream mingled with Ana’s as the chronomancer started to weep, watching as Cerise tsked lightly and tossed Mori’s corpse away like it was trash.

The feeling of a hook latching itself and jerking at the back of his sinuses startled Ana, but he could feel magic coursing throughout his body and knew that that loop was about to reset. Sucking in a staggered breath of air, Ana squeezed his eyes shut and surrendered himself to the head-over-heels feeling of being thrown back through time itself.

•••••••••••

The chronomancer jolted back to consciousness like he’d just woken up from falling in a dream. He had to take a moment to calm his hyperventilating, hurriedly pushing himself up to his feet as Fae and Mori puttered around the camp to get ready for the upcoming fight.

A slow panic tightened his throat, the feeling of needing to stop them both overtaking his senses, and he hurried forward -- half-trotting, half-fluttering -- towards his two dearhearts. Fae lifted his head to call out a greeting to Ana, but the grin on his face faltered at the distressed expression that the chronomancer wore. “Is something the matter, Ana?” Fae asked, drawing Mori’s attention up to Ana as well, and her mouth twisted to a frown.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the mirage added, setting down what she’d been in the middle of lifting to walk over to Ana; Fae was already in the process of outwardly checking the chronomancer for signs of illness, but Mori still placed a gentle hand against Ana’s face all the same, and the touch from both of his dearhearts made his wings quiver giddily despite the dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.

“I-I just… don’t think that this fight is going to go well,” Ana admitted, trying to seem casual while also keeping the hysteria out of his voice; his shoulders slumped slightly as he cast his gaze to the side, unwilling to move his head and dislodge Mori’s touch. “I feel like trying to fight the Duchess right now will end poorly.”

“Picking a fight with high-ranking Nightmare Court is always a bad idea,” Fae pointed out, gaze flickering towards Mori, who scowled at the underhanded jab. The necromancer turned his eyes back onto Ana, and the mantis sylvari’s wings fluttered at the attention. “I do, however, think that we’d waste an opportunity if we don’t strike now. The Duchess has been thrown by the loss of her lower Court, and if she manages to regain that strength in arms again, we’ll never have another chance to attack without major, needless casualties.” Ana bit back the whine that threatened to escape him; he hated how he knew that Fae was correct -- if they stalled on their assault, even for a few weeks, Cerise had the chance of recruiting more to her cause and that would become a very deadly detriment.

Ana exhaled slowly, fighting back the urge to grimace. He could try and argue with them, and he hated the idea of upsetting either of his dearhearts by being cryptically obtuse about the situation. Would arguing even convince them? Probably not, it seemed like Fae was confident with their plan, and Mori was… stubborn. But he couldn’t just tell them either; he’d probably sound insane, to them and himself. ‘We shouldn’t go into this battle because I fucked up and managed to create a potentially inescapable, horrific time loop where I have to watch both of you senselessly die over and over again like a self-created purgatory, so let’s go home and forget any of this ever happened, yeah?’ It sounded like a bad nightmare come to life, something that seasoned chronomancers would tell their apprentices to keep them from trying to meddle with their own pasts.

“I suppose you’re right, Fae… but coming up with an escape plan, just in case, wouldn’t hurt either, don’t you think?”

---

They never got to use that escape plan.

Just like the loop before, Ana could do nothing but sit and watch as Mori and Fae got slaughtered in front of his eyes. It played out in such a similar manner that the chronomancer feared that he was simply going to be stuck in this hell forever.

He stood his ground as the Duchess approached him, the final piece of their ragtag little group, and snarled at the nerve-grating giggling that escaped her. “The meek alone shall survive, it seems,” she commented, fingers flexing on the pommel of her greatsword. “Not much longer, of course, but I find such strength… commendable.”

Ana couldn’t help but flinch back a step as Cerise outstretched an empty hand towards him, teeth still bared even as her voice dropped into some semblance of sickly-sweetness. “How about I offer you a deal, darling?” she cooed, and the chronomancer bristled at the condescending tone, “Join my Court. I can offer you a place, a purpose. I’ll even allow your past transgressions against my Courtiers go; like wiping a slate clean. What do you say?”

From behind Cerise, Ana could see Bryok grimace and start to shake his head in a panic. Ana didn’t need any deterrence in joining Cerise, but the way that her second-in-command acted most definitely told him that he shouldn’t take any offer from the Duchess. His silence, however, seemed to wear on her patience, because he was snapped back to attention when she huffed sharply. “Well? I have tolerance for indecision, but not for very long. It’s not like you have much else left to live for, sweetheart.”

That finally got a response out of Ana, though it probably wasn’t one that Cerise was hoping for.

“FUCK YOU!” he screamed, with all the rage and sorrow he could muster, flinging his shield at the Duchess as hard as he could despite the fact that she easily dodged the large projectile -- he didn’t care anymore; with Mori and Fae gone, and the loop going to reset itself, he was so tired. His mesmer magic surged in response to his spike of emotions, shimmering around him like the heat waves of a summer day; Cerise didn’t flinch in the face of the wild magic, but Ana could see that Bryok had taken a wary step back… stopped only by the appearance of the Duchess’ assassin at his side.

The necromancer had shot a hand out to keep Myrr from approaching any more, and had started to whisper furiously, flicking pointed looks in Ana’s direction -- whatever the reason for the startled-but-doubtful expression that crossed Myrr’s face, Ana would never find out. The whistling of a rapidly-descending greatsword was the chronomancer’s only warning before his life was cut permanently short.

•••••••••••

Ana awoke with a start, inhaling with a sharp breath; it felt like his chest had been kicked in by a centaur. If he were more morbidly curious, he’d ponder what physical effects this time loop nonsense left on him, since he could already feel it wearing down his mental psyche. Shaking his head free of those thoughts, he pushed himself into an upright sitting position, feeling an ache spread throughout his body. He was so very, very, tired.

He didn’t even have a chance to stand before Mori was there at his side, kneeling with such a concerned look on her face that Ana felt bad for making her worry. “Ana, sweetie, are you doing okay? You look like death warmed over.”

The chronomancer huffed out an aborted laugh, lifting a hand to rub his face. “Nothing to worry about, dearest.” He paused, swallowing down the fear that clawed at the back of his throat. “I, admittedly, haven’t been sleeping well the past few days. I’m- It’s fine, I promise.”

Mori didn’t seem at all appeased by that, but knew that pushing the matter would only make things worse; instead, she simply leaned forward to press a kiss to Ana’s forehead, fingers ghosting down his arm. “Let me know if you need anything,” she murmured, pushing herself to her feet and offering a hand to help Ana up as well, which he gladly took. Both of them moved back into the middle of their small camp, where Fae was currently shuffling things around to try and get everything situated for their eventual departure.

“So what’s the plan? We know they’re following us, and that we’ll either need to set an ambush -- rather hard, when it’s just the three of us, quite frankly -- or face them head-on, which is most definitely a suicide mission,” Fae said, raising his head up once Mori and Ana came to a stop next to him.

“If we had a sniper as well, I’d say the ambush would be a wonderful start,” Mori replied with dry amusement, though Ana could tell that she’d thought a lot about what they were going to do, and had swiftly come up with the same conclusion as the rest of them: nothing. “Can’t lead a Court with a bullet in her skull.”

“Perhaps we should try and loop back towards Caledon? Maybe get the Wardens involved, like we’d wanted to originally?” Ana suggested, though he knew that plan was long dead in the water, but what else could he possibly do to keep all of them safe? “The more help we have, the better our chances, after all.”

A tiny frown curled the corner of Mori’s lips, and she made a low noise in her throat. “Potentially, we could. But we’re running dangerously low on supplies -- and what’s to say that Cerise won’t have her pet assassin hunt us down the entire way back?” she said, crossing her arms loosely. “I feel like we’ve locked ourselves into this situation -- especially factoring a sniper into the mix. There’s not any real safe way for us to backtrack the whole way back to The Grove through Dry Top, not without putting a giant target on our backs.”

“Perhaps I can be of help with that?” A low, cautious voice spoke up from off to the side, and every pair of eyes snapped to lock onto Bryok, who had seemed to materialize out of thin air amongst the foliage of the oasis. Ana, having seen the necromancer’s actions in past loops, merely startled but didn’t react otherwise. Neither he nor Fae drew their weapons, though he did note that Fae’s hand drifted to rest on his dagger pommel; only Mori seemed to tense up and, lacking her scythe at that moment, grabbed the dagger she kept sheathed on her hip instead.

As if it would do much to Bryok, even if he had acted hostile.

The necromancer seemed slightly put-out that his sister would draw her weapon so easily on him, but didn’t comment on it, moving to focus his eyes squarely on Ana, who shrunk back under the intense scrutiny in Bryok’s gaze.

“You’ve gotten in over your head, haven’t you?” he asked, and Ana’s eyes widened slightly -- both Fae and Mori had turned to stare at him as well, and he couldn’t help but take a panicked step back.

“Wh-What are you talking about?” Ana’s tongue stumbled slightly, shock making it difficult to form a coherent thought.

“I can feel the fluctuating time magic clinging to you. It’s honestly a bit headache-inducing,” the necromancer commented, ignoring the irate noise that his words drew from Mori.

“Did you come here simply to insult my dearheart, or do you have another purpose for not being at Cerise’s beck-and-call?” she snapped, which coaxed a soft, sad chuckle from Bryok.

“You’ve not noticed how off the magic around here feels, particularly next to him? You spend too much time around him, dear sister. Something is wrong, but perhaps you’re better off asking your dearheart what the matter could be.” Yet again, numerous pairs of eyes swiveled to settle on him, and Ana could feel a cold anxiety drag its way down his spine.

“I--” he started, his wings twitching and fluttering uneasily, but he knew that Bryok was right -- what would be the harm in telling them? It could possibly break the loop itself if they knew… or it might just get them killed. But what would make that any different from the other loops he’d already suffered through? “I don’t… truly know how to explain what happened but… I’ve already experienced the battle with Cerise. More than once. Because I cast a reckless Well of Eternity and… you both know how poor my chronomancer skills are.”

Fae’s expression was blank, though Ana could see the confusion swimming in his eyes. Mori, however, was staring at Ana with the same level of scrutiny that her brother had before as she slowly put her dagger away. “What does that mean for us, then?” she asked slowly, like she truly didn’t want to know the answer but needed to ask for posterity’s sake.

“We’re, uh… trapped, for lack of a better term, in a time loop. Because of my magic.” His wings drooped along with his slumped shoulders, and he had to take a second to compose himself so his voice wouldn’t break when he spoke again. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ve-” Ana exhaled sharply, feeling the first tears streak down his face. “I’ve watched both of you die, multiple times now, and I’ve been able to do nothing to stop it. I desperately wish I could stop it, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to handle watching you two get killed in front of me and be unable to help.”

Through his tears, he saw both Mori and Fae exchange a quick glance before he was suddenly surrounded by his dearhearts, bundled in a joint hug between them. “It’s okay, sunshine. We know you didn’t mean to do it purposefully,” Mori murmured, her chin rested gently on his shoulder. He felt Fae hum in agreement against his side, and that was all it took to make Ana completely burst into wracking sobs.

It took him a few minutes to gain his composure once more, and it was only then that Bryok approached; his steps were cautious, and he kept a wary eye on Mori’s now-sheathed dagger, but seemed to relax when he realized that she wasn’t going to grab it again and shank him. “If you go anywhere directly south towards the Challenger Cliffs, you’ll run into Cerise’s ambush; the only way in or out of Dry Top that doesn’t involve dodging M-- Cerise’s assassin is the switchback in the southeast that leads into Brisban.”

“The one we took in here,” Mori affirmed, sighing despite it being their only solution. It’s not like they could climb the sheer cliff walls that otherwise surrounded the secluded Maguuma desert; their skyscales could, sure, but with a sniper around? Ana wasn’t willing to risk Sweetpea’s life on flying out of their predicament and getting shot out of the air. “That’s an obnoxious amount of back-tracking… and walking.”

“Would you rather get shot out of the sky?”

A scowl crossed Mori’s face, though it was a long-suffering look that spoke far more of sibling annoyance than true irritation. “I never said that.”

“Well, then, what are you waiting for?” Bryok motioned back down the gully. “Best to get moving before Cerise realizes what you’re up to.”

“And… what about you?” Mori asked, the sudden concern in her tone startling Ana; she hadn’t seemed particularly worried moments ago. The slow, sad smile that crossed Bryok’s face made the chronomancer frown with worry of his own.

“I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?” the necromancer rumbled gently, placing a hand on Mori’s shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze. “I’ll be fine. You know I will. And you know I’ll have to get back to her before my presence is missed. Or, rather, before her assassin finds me.”

The look on Mori’s face was extremely discontented with that answer, but Bryok enveloped his sister in a tight, desperate hug, and the mesmer slumped into the contact, wrapping her arms around his torso just as desperately.

“Don’t get yourself killed, stupid ass.”

“You know I hate making promises I can’t keep, Mori.”

Mori’s fist thumped bodily against Bryok’s side, and the necromancer huffed out a laugh before loosening his grip around her and stepping away, talons clicking on the stone. His gaze skipped between all of them, his expression smoothing into one of neutrality. “When next we all meet, I hope it’s on better terms than this.”

Mori and Fae took that with a note of finality and started to pack their stuff with a vigor, but Ana’s gaze was glued to the necromancer, who had already turned and started to walk back the way he’d originally appeared from. An indescribable sort of franticness gripped Ana, and he darted forward, wings fluttering with a manic energy.

“W-Wait!” he yelped, hearing both of his dearhearts pause behind him to watch; Bryok startled slightly at the noise, half-turning to watch the chronomancer hurry towards him, curiosity painted on his face. Ana skittered to a stop a few feet away from Bryok, his energy turning mildly embarrassed. What was he trying to accomplish with this? “Sorry, I just…” he mumbled, wings twitching into a droop behind him. “Thank you, for helping. It means a lot.”

The necromancer considered him for a handful of seconds before the corner of his lips quirked up slightly. “I am always willing to help those that my sister has deemed important,” he responded, and Ana flustered slightly, his glow pulsing in a flush of color. It shouldn’t have filled him with such a feeling of adoration to be listed as important to Mori -- he knew that already -- but it felt different, somehow, coming from his dearheart’s sibling.

“You’d best get to packing,” Bryok gently reminded, his ears twitching as he lifted his gaze skyward, though it was difficult to see anything of the sort in the ravine they’d camped out in. “The horizon looked particularly… nasty when I was making my way here; I think there’s a sandstorm kicking up.” And with that, Bryok walked away, leaving the three Dreamers behind.

That warning flooded Ana with a sense of urgency and he gave a quick series of nods, mostly to himself, before bolting back to their small campsite to help gather things up, a buzzing feeling of anticipation filling the determined silence between them all.

---

It became swiftly apparent that Bryok hadn’t been lying when he said that a nasty storm was headed their direction -- even though the southern horizon was obscured by the ravine they were traveling through, they could hear and feel the rumbling thunder of the approaching clouds, but all three of them knew that staying in the ravine to try and wait out the storm just meant they were leaving themselves open to be shot like sitting ducks.

The underlying warning in Bryok’s words had been more than enough: Cerise knew where they’d camped, and her obedient sniper would be soon to follow. They had to take their small window of opportunity to escape, or die.

It wasn’t ideal, but they truly had to play things by-ear at this stage.

They trekked in silence for half an hour, all of them too wary of drawing attention to themselves to try and bother with conversation -- it didn’t help that every time they opened their mouths, the gritty taste of sand would stick to their tongues, which was unpleasant in general. It took all of Ana’s willpower not to whine at their situation, but he kept his mouth shut; with this head start on Cerise, and the sudden change in pace of the loop, he was very hopeful that this would be the thing that finally broke the cycle.

Slipping between the narrow sandstone passages, they finally made it back to the outpost of Maguuma centaurs that called the ravine their home. Being even further in plain sight caused Mori’s shoulders to tense, but Ana was quick to soothe a hand down her arm, a puppyish, hopeful smile on his face. “We’ve gotten this far, dearest. We’re nearly there.”

The centaurs offered them sanctuary from the approaching storm, along with warnings about venturing out in it, but all of them politely declined. It was one thing that they were targets, it was another thing entirely to put a group of innocents in the crosshairs as well. Cerise was ruthless, and would no doubt slaughter the centaurs to get to the trio of Dreamers. They did, however, buy some more supplies from the tribe, specifically a handful of waterskins. They hadn’t wanted to disrespect the centaurs by taking the oasis water, and had been running rather low; the chilled fluid amidst the desert heat was a welcome relief. After that small matter was taken care of, they continued on their journey.

The tunnels that led through Scarlet Briar’s old labs had long ago been cleared of her lingering presence, along with the spiders that had used to infest the tunnels; the path leading through was brightly lit with flickering torches, clearly marking the correct way to go through the miniature labyrinth. “The flatlands are going to be rough,” Fae mumbled as they traveled through the tunnels, voice and steps echoing off the sandstone surrounding them.

“Lots of open sand surrounded by mesas, not exactly thrilled to traverse that for hours in view of the whole world with a sniper hunting us for sport,” Mori grumbled, though they all knew they had no other choice. The only way was forward.

“What other choice do we have?” Fae countered, the slightest bit of frustration curling at the edges of his voice, and Ana knew it wasn’t directed at either of them -- the situation was stressful for them all, and the chronomancer preemptively put his hand back on Mori’s arm to keep her from starting up a waspish reply.

“We have none,” Ana spoke up firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “The sooner we make it to Brisban, the sooner we can call Sweetpea and Nightshade to get the hell away from Cerise.”

Mori and Fae shared a grim look, knowing that Ana was right -- it was no use wasting their energy getting frustrated, especially with each other, and especially not with a very angry Duchess on their heels. Moments later, they reached the end of the tunnels and emerged into the dry, arid openness of the ruined mining town of Prosperity, where the tunnel ended. The area had long since had all influence of Mordremoth removed by the centaur, but had yet to become inhabited again despite the years. The Jungle Dragon had settled a deep fear in everyone’s minds, making them far too wary to try and mine anything more from the desert stone.

Ana was the first one to trot quickly into the center of town, coming to a stop next to the long-dried well. About-facing to the south, his wings fluttered in agitation before his shoulders slumped in resignation. The entirety of the horizon had been swallowed by looming, black clouds; underground it’d been hard to feel, but up on the surface once more, the rumbling of the thunder felt like a continuous, approaching explosion. The air, while still dry, felt charged by the oncoming storm, and it sent a shiver crawling down the chronomancer’s spine. The crunch of sand behind him signaled the approach of his dearhearts, and he huffed out a small sigh, glancing over his shoulder towards the both of them. “It looks like we’re going to be spending most of this journey dealing with the storm too.”

The look on Fae’s face was easily read as mopey, and Ana couldn’t blame him -- the thought of crossing a desert, battling a storm, while dodging a sniper, was low on the list of things he felt like doing. Mori’s expression, however, was as thunderously dark as the approaching clouds. Ana had no clue what to expect when the clouds finally reached them, having never truly been in a desert storm before, but if the looks on his dearhearts’ faces said anything, it was that they were in for a rough time.

“We’re going to have to cover our faces before starting our trek across the sands,” Mori said, twisting slightly to fish around in her rucksack. She pulled out three long tan wraps of cloth from the depths, handing two of them to Ana and Fae. The necromancer, who had also traveled Elona, instantly set about wrapping the cloth in a comfortable manner that covered his mouth and nose but, for now, left his eyes uncovered. Mori followed suit with her own length of cloth, which only left Ana, standing there with the fabric in his hands, feeling rather lost. He’d tried watching both Fae and Mori wrap theirs, but staring down at the cloth made his mind go blank trying to figure how to do it in the best manner possible.

Fae, sensing his hesitancy, hummed gently and moved to take the cloth from Ana’s hands with a light, “Here, lemme do it.”

Getting help for something that seemed so simple made Ana feel stupid, his glow pulsing brightly in embarrassment at the situation of having to be helped like a clueless sapling. “Hush now,” Fae chastised, though his tone was soft, loving, and Ana hadn’t truly said anything out loud. A soothing wave of empathy washed over him, and Ana’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a sharp huff of breath. “Prepping for the desert takes practice -- I got quite a bit of sand in my mouth and eyes before I properly learned how to keep them covered,” Fae continued with gentle assurance, fixing the cloth to rest on the bridge of the chronomancer’s nose so it could easily be tugged up to cover Ana’s eyes when necessary.

“Thank you, Fae,” Ana mumbled gently, lifting his eyes to meet Fae’s. Even with the makeshift cowl, Ana could tell there was a grin on the necromancer’s face. He leaned forward to gently press his nose against Ana’s in a quick, soft kiss, and Ana’s wings buzzed as his heart soared, glow pulsing again in happiness.

A deafening crack of thunder jolted them both back to reality, and a low growl rumbled low in Mori’s throat. “The storm will be upon us in a few minutes. Let’s get beyond the quicksand bridge before it hits so we at least don’t have to worry about that,” she suggested and, having no argument against it, both Ana and Fae nodded, moving to hurry after Mori as she started to walk.

And just as Mori had said, the clouds swallowed the daylight only a minute after they passed the river of quicksand, casting them into an unnerving gloom, the approaching roar of the storm drowning out everything around them. Mori paused only to tug Ana’s cowl up completely, tightly lacing her fingers with Ana’s. “Keep hold on me and Fae. Whatever you do, don’t let go,” she warned in a shout as sand, picked up by the howling winds, whipped angrily around them. Without their cowls, it would’ve been impossible to breathe or see, and now Ana was extremely grateful that Fae had helped him secure the cloth correctly on his face.

Completely blind to their surroundings, the most that Ana could do was squeeze tight on Fae and Mori’s hands as she led them forward into the sandstorm. Without the choking, blinding sand, their trip across the rather inaccurately-named flatlands would’ve taken an hour or so, at best. With the storm, trekking over the sand dunes that had swept across the landscape would take over two.

They didn’t have that sort of time to waste.

The sandstorm surrounding them gave them desperately-needed coverage while going across such an open area, making sure that they wouldn’t get picked off long-ranged by Cerise’s sniper, but they now had the added danger of getting lost, and potentially running themselves in circles. In a desert, with a limited water supply on them, that could be more deadly than bullets.

Their journey was spent in silence, unable to be heard above the scream of the winds; it was hard to tell time, with the clouds still obscuring the sun and sand blocking everything else. And then, somewhere in the din that drowned everything else out, came a sound that chilled all of them to the bone: the whip-crack sound of a rifle firing in the distance, far closer than any of them was comfortable with.

All of them shared a veiled glance, the sharp spike of empathy anxiety flitting between the three before Mori squared her shoulders and seemed to double their efforts of stomping through the sand that threatened to bury them alive. The urgency of her tugging on his arm was enough to make him grit his teeth together. All things considered, he’d take Mori pulling his arm out of its socket over being shot.

Another handful of minutes passed with no other incident, and Ana had soothed his anxiety at least a little bit; despite the rifle in the distance earlier, that didn’t mean that Myrr had caught up or found them -- in this sandstorm, it was hard enough just seeing five feet in front of them.

A small scuffling sound came from Ana’s right, nearly lost in the whipping of the storm, and the chronomancer let out a startled, pained yell as the arm holding onto Fae was torqued the wrong direction, his grip on the necromancer’s hand slipping completely. “Fae!” Ana howled, voice lost to the winds, and moments later a resonating scream erupted somewhere behind them before abruptly being silenced.

“We have to go back, Mori!” the chronomancer begged, having pulled close enough to Mori that she’d be able to hear him -- the determination that resonated from her empathy, however, brooked no argument.

“You know as well as I do: if we go back, we die too!” Mori snapped, causing Ana to balk; there was a pain in Mori’s voice, as well as fear, and he knew that she was correct. The chance that Fae was still alive was not worth both of them dying to the desert, or sniper, trying to go back and find him.

The time to mourn their loss would have to wait for safety. If they had the mercy to find it, that was.

Mori seemed to double-time their momentum, the urgency in her movements causing Ana to stumble more than once climbing the sand dunes; they scrambled like panicked ants, hoping to the Pale Tree that they’d be able to reach the mesas and finally be free of the brunt of the storm. From behind them, the crack of another rifle shot rang out, and Ana couldn’t stop the instinctual yelp that escaped him as the bullet whistled past his ear. Mori, who had been leading their path up another dune, snarled and stumbled as a burst of red sap gushed onto the sand from her torn side. Her free hand flew to put pressure onto the wound, but it still leaked around her fingers, leaving a trail as she struggled to stay upright.

Her forceful, enraged, “Fucker!” caused Ana to flinch slightly, another yelp escaping him as she pulled him in front of her and gave him a shove. “Ana, go! I’ll only slow you down, and he’ll be able to follow my blood straight to us!”

‘No, no, no, not again!’ No matter what he did, he’d always lose them. “I’m not leaving you!” he yelled, lurching forward to take her unbloodied hand to try and pull her along with him, choking out a sob when she wrested her grip away, her empathy thumping a bright, angry tattoo in his skull.

“LEAVE ME!” she thundered, jabbing a finger in the direction they’d been traveling. “Make it to the mesas! Find help! Don’t fucking die out here because of me!” The chronomancer bodily flinched, as if her words had slapped him across the face, and another keening, sobbed noise escaped him.

He fell to his knees in the sand, cupping Mori’s face with his hands to gently pull her close for a kiss through their cowls. He didn’t want to leave her here to die, he didn’t want to start all of this over again, he didn’t he didn’t he didn’t. But he knew he had no other choice. “I love you, Mori,” he whimpered, afraid his words would get lost in the howling gale; it was only when Mori bumped her forehead against his that he knew she heard him.

“I love you too, sunshine. Now go,” she urged, giving him another, much more gentle, shove in the direction they’d needed to go. With much reluctance, Ana got to his feet and turned the direction Mori had pointed before. His wings quivered sadly as he started forward, not daring to look back over his shoulder -- not even when the sound of a distant gunshot rang out behind him, prompting him to break out into an uneven sprint across the sand.

The twenty minutes it took him to struggle through the sand without any incident felt like hours -- his senses were on high alert, and every noise that wasn’t one of his made him practically jump out of his skin, wings fluttering as if they’d be able to carry his body weight into the sky. Finally, the mesas came into view and Ana exhaled a strangled, relieved noise as he beelined towards an outcropping of rocks that created a natural shelter from the sandstorm. He practically dove into the low space it provided, grateful to finally be free of the coarse sand scouring his body.

He shook his wings free of the sand that clung to them, though he dared not remove the cloth covering his face; he freed his eyes for the time being, but didn’t pull it any further down for fear of not being able to put it back on correctly again.

Crawling further into the shelter he’d found, he curled his back against the rock wall, hugging his knees to his chest as his entire body shook from his crying, tears streaking down his face to dampen the cowl hanging across his nose. Mori had wanted him to run, to finish their mission, to live. But Ana knew that it wasn’t possible. Beyond the loop resetting itself eventually, the chronomancer simply had no will to go on without his two dearhearts.

Waiting here was simply a matter of waiting for death to catch up to him.

And he did, eventually.

Ana’s ears twitched at the sound of crunching sand near the entrance of his hideaway, and he barely turned his head to stare blankly at Myrr standing at the entrance. The sniper had his rifle strapped to his back, but with a pistol-in-hand. Expecting a fight, then, though not one he had to particularly worry about. Face hidden by a cowl much like Ana’s meant that he couldn’t read the sniper’s expression, but he didn��t really want to anyway. “Nowhere to go now, little bug.”

He was so tired. “Kill me,” Ana rasped monotonously, seeming to startle Myrr with the bluntness of his statement, if the twitch of the sniper’s body was any indication. “You caught up to me. I’m not running anymore. Just kill me.”

Myrr stayed where he was, and even with the cowl hiding his face, Ana could feel the scrutiny there. “Seriously?”

A flare of irritation bubbled in Ana’s throat and he couldn’t help the hostility that colored his snapped words. “Fuck you. Just get this over with.” The sniper’s posture shifted with an affronted air, and he stalked forward until he was standing in front of the chronomancer, the grip he had on his pistol making his knuckles go pale. Myrr said nothing else, nor did he move, and after a full minute of them just having a silent stare-down, Ana lost all the patience he had left.

Ripping the cowl off his face, mouth twisted in a teary sneer, Ana shifted to push himself forward slightly, not even finding enough in him to be surprised that Myrr took a step back. “You found me! You’re only here to kill us! You’ve already killed my dearhearts and left me with nothing! JUST FUCKING KILL ME, YOU BASTARD!” Ana’s volume peaked at a scream as his hands curled into fists against the ground, sobs wracking his body as he slumped forward, all the fight gone from him as he stared pleadingly at the other sylvari. “I just want this to end… please.”

Myrr seemed to hesitate slightly, rocking on the balls of his feet for a moment before he finally seemed to come to a decision. Raising his pistol up, he trained it on Ana’s forehead, and a slow exhale escaped the sniper. “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

The trigger clicked like a guillotine in the otherwise silent space.

•••••••••••

Awareness slithered back to him, and Ana choked out a noise as he convulsed slightly, one hand flying to his forehead where the bullet had torn through him -- there was nothing, of course, but he could still feel the phantom pain that was steadily morphing into a thunderous headache.

Mori, who had been prepping their gear, looked up at his gasp, concern glittering in her eyes. “Is something the matter, dearheart?”

The chronomancer exhaled shakily, doing his best to give Mori a reassuring smile. He pushed himself to his feet and gathered his bedroll up in a stilted, mechanical manner. He’d done this motion one too many times now; he was tired, even more than the last few times, but couldn’t show it as anything more than travel fatigue. He’d already tried to warn them outright, and that just made things so much worse.

Walking over to the mirage, he brushed his fingers down her cheek, wings fluttering when she leaned into the touch. “Nothing’s wrong, I’m just… worried about the battle.”

“Mmm… So am I.” She turned her head just slightly to brush her lips against his fingers before returning her attention to their supplies. “We’ve run low on basically everything just to get here. Trying to make our way back out after the battle is going to run us thin.” Ana had to resist the urge to sob, knowing better than anyone that there wasn’t going to be a conclusion to the battle they were eternally trapped in.

“We’ll figure something out!” Fae chirped from where he was gathering up all of their camping gear, a bright grin on his face. “We’ve managed before, we can do it again!”

“Of course!” Ana responded automatically, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them -- he wanted so desperately to believe in Fae’s words, but he knew how this was going to end. How it was always going to end.

---

Standing across the battlefield from the Nightmare group felt like standing in front of a firing squad. Except Ana had been there, staring down death, multiple times now, and the dismal feeling never seemed to lighten. Nothing he did helped. And he could feel the despair sink its claws into his mind. ‘If I just let this all play out, they die. If I try to warn my dearhearts beforehand, they die. What could I possibly do to keep them safe?’

His thoughts spiraled wildly, and it wasn’t long until his hands were shaking from the overwhelming anxiety. When Cerise took a step forward to address the Dreamers, Ana’s control snapped.

The chronomancer didn’t even think, he just moved.

Springing forward out of their line-up, seemingly surprising everyone gathered at the thoughtless action, Ana let out a desperate noise that was torn between a shout and scream as he arrowed directly towards the Duchess. He didn’t even think to draw his rapier and shield, he simply pooled his mesmer magic together to form a shimmering greatsword in his grip.

Vaguely, he heard Fae and Mori shout his name in fear, and he should’ve seen the Duchess’ calm demeanor in the face of a charging mesmer as unnerving. But his judgement was so clouded with thoughts of making things right that he didn’t take Cerise’s amused smile as what it truly was: a threat.

Ana was only a few yards away from the Duchess and he didn’t even see her draw her own weapon; all he saw was her shift in stance, a smooth slide on her hooves to the left so he overshot his target-- and then suddenly he was screaming in agony as pain lanced up his spine and shoulder blades, vision whiting out momentarily.

He stumbled on his feet, only just barely managing to keep himself upright on the loose sand, and pivoted to face Cerise again. He could feel lifesap coating his back, and it became apparent why when his eyes took in the scene he’d shifted to focus on: Cerise had shorn his wings off with a single, clean swipe of her greatsword, leaving only pathetic stumps behind. His gaze moved from Fae, who looked horrified, to Mori, who was visibly shaking with rage.

“So eager to clip your wings and freedom, little bird? Such a shame,” Cerise cooed, the smile on her face razor-sharp. She raised a hand, and then quickly closed it into a fist: a shot rang out at the signal, and Mori staggered down to one knee with a shout, her other leg ruined by a well-placed sniper round. Bryok jolted forward at the sight of his sister being wounded, but a shimmering, near-invisible magebane tether wrapped around his neck kept him in place, as if Cerise knew that he’d forget his side of the battle and attempt to help Mori the moment she was injured.

Fae startled as Mori collapsed and dropped down to aid her without a thought, but he barely even managed to start when he was yanked back by a tether that had wrapped itself around his throat. Cerise gave Fae’s tether another vicious pull, sending the young necromancer sprawling to the ground, and the Duchess’ giggle echoed across the battlefield.

Ana’s vision went red and he charged the Duchess again, but Cerise twirled once he was close and hefted the chronomancer with her hands, throwing him bodily across the gap that separated the two groups. He landed heavily in the sand, a wheezed breath escaping him, and rolled a few times from the momentum before coming to a stop in front of Mori and Fae. The stumps where his wings used to be twitched, quivered, and bled profusely as he lay there, breathing raggedly and clenching his teeth to keep from openly sobbing. He had to be strong, he had to be strong.

There was a scuffling movement from behind him, and he heard Mori spit out a myriad of curses as she was manhandled forward next to Ana with no regard to her crippled leg. The chronomancer stared up at the sneering face of Cerise’s assassin, Myrr, as he moved to also drag Fae forward by the necromancer’s hair, throwing him down on the ground on the other side of Ana. And then it was his turn to be manhandled, Myrr gripping what was left of Ana’s wing stumps and hauling him up onto his knees. And this time, Ana did cry out, but he was quick to snap his mouth shut when he heard Myrr growl lowly at him to “Shut up,” before moving out of the chronomancer’s sight, though he could hear the sniper somewhere behind them.

Both Ana and Fae flinched slightly as Cerise walked forward, yanking Bryok along behind her like a disobedient dog, before crouching down to be eye-level with Mori, and the mirage met the Duchess’ wistful expression with a look of contempt, both of them ignoring the slight, pitiful noises from the necromancer chained behind Cerise.

“How the mighty have fallen from the defeat of Zhaitan, my dearest Morrionach,” Cerise murmured, reaching a hand out to trail her fingers along Mori’s jaw. She leaned forward to place a featherlight kiss on the tip of Mori’s nose, her hand clenching to grip Mori’s chin roughly when the mirage started to struggle against the bonds that had been put on her by Myrr. “You should’ve stayed dead, darling.”

Another gunshot rang out, deafening Ana, and Mori crumpled away from him, the close-range bullet completely tearing through and destroying her growth socket’s core at the base of her spine. Sorrow clenched his throat, and he exhaled sharply, tears blurring his vision. “No!” Ana choked out, but his scream was drowned out by Myrr’s rifle, and Fae also collapsed instantly, life snuffed out with a singular action.

‘This is all my fault, how could I be so stupid to think that I could do anything different? Every time I try to help, they die worse than before -- I try to be smart, I fail. I try to be reckless, and I betray them to their deaths. I’m a failure.’

With no one there except for the Court to see, Ana finally broke down sobbing, curling forward and wailing all the grief and pain in his mind. Cerise had taken a step back once the executions had started, and she allowed the young chronomancer a handful of seconds to mourn before she flicked her fingers in Myrr’s direction, and one final gunshot silenced Ana’s sorrow.

•••••••••••

Ana’s eyes snapped open, and he could feel the despair take hold of his mind. How long was he going to have to live with this? Was he going to be forced to watch his dearhearts die, over and over and over, without ever being able to save them or fix the wrong he’d created?

There was only one method of breaking the time loop cycle that he hadn’t tried yet -- he didn’t want to try it, but what other choices did he truly have?

He watched for a moment as Fae and Mori huddled to discuss battle plans, his grim determination solidifying into something bitter. He was going to make this right, no matter what the cost.

---

The Dreamers stood silently, a line of silent resolve, while the group of Nightmare Court mirrored them across the swathe of nothingness that made up their battleground. At this point, the chronomancer knew every detail of the field they occupied; he knew Myrr, who was missing from the line-up, was hidden somewhere on the ridges surrounding them, keeping an eagle-eye on them all and waiting for Cerise’s signal.

As the Duchess stepped forward and started to speak, Ana’s mouth was set in a grim line, the mental clock ticking in his head -- three… two… one… now! -- and just as the whip-crack shot of a sniper rifle rang out, aimed directly for Fae, Ana threw out a shield; the bullet ricocheted, burying itself in the sand at Cerise’s hooves. The noise was enough to jolt Mori into action and she leapt at Cerise to engage and keep the Duchess occupied. Fae was quick to shake off the realization that he’d nearly gotten shot, and darted forward to pick a fight with Bryok, leaving Ana standing alone in the middle of the field.

He knew that Myrr was still lurking somewhere, but the chronomancer wasn’t worried about the sniper. Not this time.

Drawing out his rapier from its scabbard, he held the blade limply at his side, watching as his dearhearts fought and sparred with their opponents. He hated that his options had dwindled so much that he had to resort to this, but he wouldn’t have remotely considered it if he felt like there was some other way. Ana exhaled slowly, letting his eyes fall shut, and felt tears start to streak down his face.

‘I’m so, so sorry for this, my dears,’ he thought mournfully as he raised the rapier up to his throat and sliced.

A calm acceptance had settled on his mind as his arm completed the action, even as his body involuntarily flinched and choked. He fell to his knees as the pain knocked his legs out from under him, eyes fluttering back open, and his gaze landed on the battles still taking place. Fae noticed what he’d done first, simply for the fact that Bryok had froze in his tracks, having seen Ana cut his own neck, and the younger necromancer had turned to look at what had caught his opponent’s attention.

And then it was Fae screaming his name as he ran towards the fallen chronomancer that finally caught Mori’s attention, and she nearly took a greatsword to the shoulder because of it. She barely managed to roll backwards, away from the strike, but was quick to scramble to her feet and pivot her body so she could bolt to where Ana was starting to slump sideways, the loss of lifesap starting to drain his energy as well. He barely had the mental focus to nudge Fae’s hands away when the necromancer tried to start healing him, the smallest shake of Ana’s head causing Fae to flinch like he’d been slapped.

“What did you do, sunshine? What did you do?!” Mori wasn’t quite sobbing as she fell to her knees in front of him, but he could hear that she was close to breaking with how her voice cracked on her words. She placed a steadying hand on his chest, but instantly jolted it back when all the action did was get her skin coated in sap that was steadily pouring from the self-inflicted wound across his throat.

Gently -- because it was Mori, and also because of his weakening limbs -- he raised a hand up to grasp her wrist, and gave the palm of her hand a featherlight kiss. He couldn’t speak, not anymore, so he hoped that his expression shone through with all the apology he could muster. ‘I never wanted to put either of you through something like this…’ he thought, tears still dripping down his face, and his eyes drifted beyond Mori and Fae.

Bryok was standing where he’d been left, the expression on his face unreadable as his eyes flickered between the trio huddled on the ground and Cerise. The Duchess also hadn’t moved, though she looked rather affronted that Mori had completely disregarded their fight to instead pay attention to Ana. Myrr was still hidden in his sniper spot, but considering none of them had been shot at again, he was probably on very specific orders from Cerise to only shoot at her signals.

The chronomancer could feel his life fading faster now, the sap that was once draining from his body at an alarming rate having slowed down to a sluggish drip, and he sagged into Mori’s arms; tilting his head up slightly, he reached out towards Fae, smiling sadly at the fact that Fae’s grip on his hand trembled. Using his empathy, and what little concentration he could muster, he pushed as much of his regret, adoration, and love for his two dearhearts through to them.

His goal wasn’t to make Mori start sobbing, but that’s what he managed anyways, feeling both of his dearhearts’ grief mingle into one overwhelming emotion; he knew that this was far more of a betrayal than getting them killed, at least in their eyes, but Ana was so, so tired, and if he could do anything to break the loop and let them continue living, he was going to do it. No matter what the cost.

With one final push of their empathetic connection, he did his best to convey to Mori and Fae that they should flee, though he didn’t quite feel like he got the message across correctly. Whether that was because of his fading life, or the tumultuous mix of emotions that slipped through as well, he would never know. With the last of his strength spent, he fell unconscious; a sleep that he would never awaken from again.

Fae’s expression was a numb, wide-eyed agony, and a heart-wrenching wail escaped Mori as she curled forward to rest her temple against Ana’s forehead -- to both mirage and necromancer, the battle with the Court had been completely forgotten. Bryok was more than willing to allow them to mourn in peace, but Cerise did not share his views. With a furious slash of her hand, a sniper shot rang out and Fae dropped instantly with a surprised gurgling noise, the bullet having ripped straight through the base of his neck, severing his spine.

Mori flinched bodily as the necromancer hit the ground, and her arms tightened on Ana’s body as the sounds of a scuffle broke out behind her, and she heard Bryok’s voice raise into a shout; it was hard to focus on the words through the stress-induced buzzing in her ears, but the sound of another body hitting the ground was like thunder in the otherwise silent area.

The mirage raised her head up, twisting just enough to watch the scene over her shoulder. Bryok had been pinned on his front by Cerise, her knee planted squarely between his shoulder blades, and her fingers were gripped tightly in his feathered hair to keep his head raised up in an extremely uncomfortable-looking position. The Duchess was leaned forward, snarling something low in Bryok’s ear, and he was hissing back in response, fangs bared in a threat. A magebane tethering collar had been tightly clasped to his neck, which was the only reason that his necromancer magic wasn’t already flaring up to throttle the life out of Cerise.

With a finality, Cerise slammed Bryok’s face against the sand, and she snapped out a simple, but deadly, “I will deal with you later.” Mori tensed when the Duchess’ attention then turned onto her, and the look on the spellbreaker’s face was frightening. Dipping down to pick up her greatsword, Cerise straightened and stormed her way towards the mirage; Mori knew death enough to realize what was going to happen when Cerise closed the gap between them and exhaled slowly. Her hands gripped against Ana’s cooling corpse, and she curled to place a gentle kiss against the chronomancer’s forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Ana,” she murmured, feeling the overwhelming presence of the Duchess at her back. Her ear twitched at the rustle of clothing, and she exhaled harshly as the whistle of the greatsword’s blade marked its swift descent. “We’ll be with you again soon, my sunshine.”

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #gw2 fanfic #gw2 fanfiction #tyriaslibrary #writing #journal scribblings of a lost soul #oc: bryok #oc: mori #other characters #long post #I'VE BEEN WRITING THIS FIC SINCE FEBRUARY HHHHH #IT HAS HAUNTED MY CONSCIOUSNESS #it started off as a simple lol what if and just. spiraled out of control

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