#all that really matters to him is making sure everything happens according to its assigned fate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

barbarianprncess · 3 years ago

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did you mean it?

read on ao3.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

The first event isn’t really an event at all. It’s a prologue, necessary context to truly understand the monumentalism of this moment. It’s the memory of her eyes, piercing and reproachful, being the first thing that he saw after losing his mother. It’s shared trauma and oreos while they’re young and naive. It’s truces and training and growing up too soon together. It’s stargazing and stupid jokes saving eachother in every possible way. It's the culmination of the years Percy spent growing, learning, and being with Annabeth, and the unknown and therefore repressed feelings that came with it. Feelings are like the sea in that way, they don’t take well to being restrained. Percy has found that you cannot box in oceans or sentiments, they always find a way to spill over and out, with no regard for the destruction left in its wake.

The second event is Dionysus deciding on a whim that the inhabitants of his camp are ‘uncultured pests’ and taking it upon himself to set up a field trip for campers to the Ancient Greek Cultural Center in New York. (Percy thinks it’s really just to distract kids that were still shaken up about the battle at camp and the losses it caused. But, Dionysus would never say so. He’s far too proud to admit to caring for the children he’s been assigned to look after.) Argus loaded all the kids he could fit into the strawberry vans, as Chiron listed all the reasons this was a terrible idea. As it turns out, his worries were in vain as miraculously, no monsters attacked, and no mortal asked too many questions. No, instead, the only hitch in his plan was the glaring inaccuracies of the Center sending Dionysus into a fit of rage. He ranted for so long, their 2 hour long field trip ended up lasting until the place closed.

Event the third is the ridiculously long line leading to the mens room at the rundown gas station they’ve stopped at, causing Percy to traipse into the woods, deep enough to know that no one other than the squirrels were watching, and pee there. Unbeknownst to him, Annabeth had decided to take a quick walk in the forest as well, (in the opposite direction of his peeing endeavor) with the purpose of clearing her head. Both returned to the parking lot after 10 minutes, with no truck in sight. The gas station lights are turned off on the inside and the door sign has switched decidedly to closed. They look at each other in disbelief.

“Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh...did they…”

“They didn’t. They wouldn’t.”

“I think they would.”

“They would never-”

“I have pretty solid evidence to the contrary.” Annabeth deadpans, casually letting her hair loose and hopping on top of the miniature gas machine for motorcycles.

“But, how did-”

“No Argus.” Which means, no all-seeing eyes to double check the headcount. Percy begins to pace.

“Okay, but-”

“Two trucks.” Both of which are probably assuming Percy and Annabeth are on the other.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, gods.”

“Leave them out of this.”

“Those fuckers.”

“Which ones?” She asks. He looks up and she’s fighting a smile. He pointedly doesn’t notice the way her mouth curls up, or the way her hair falls around her shoulders and down her back, or how pretty she looks lit up by the neon red lights of the gas stations prices, which apparently doesn’t turn off when they close.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“I know lots of things you don’t.”

“Ha-ha. I mean about how to get out of here.”

“Ohhhhh, let me think.” She wrinkles her nose in faux concentration, tilting her chin up towards the sky. Percy is too annoyed to think it’s adorable. “Nope, not a clue.”

“Your phone?”

“Left it on the truck.”

“Iris message?”

“Percy, it’s dark as shit.” The laughter she’s been holding in comes pouring out. Nevermind that he feels his chest sigh in relief at hearing it for the first time since their quest, this is serious.

“You’re laughing.”

“Just a little.”

“You’re telling me, you don’t have a brilliant plan to get us on a truck.”

“Yes.”

“So, we’re stuck here.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re laughing?”

“You’re just really funny when you’re stressed.” She giggles. He can’t remember the last time she giggled. He missed it. He hates her.

“Oh my gods.”

“Okay, okay, look, I’m sorry. We’re halfway to camp right?” He nods. “I’m sure they’ll figure out we’re missing before they get all the way back to camp, but let's say, worst case scenario, they don’t-”

“Not helping-”

“And they make it the rest of the way back to camp. It took us four hours to get to the center, which means camp is two hours away, so if they make it the two hours back to camp before they realize we’re missing, and they drive back up-”

“C’mon ‘Beth, you know I suck at math.”

“We’re stuck here for five hours at most.”

“Five hours?”

“And that's if no passing cars let us use their phones to hurry the process up.”

“Five hours.”

She’s laughing again. “Seriously, what is so funny?”

“It’s just-” Her cheeks are red and she’s very poorly attempting to suppress her smile. “You’ve been calm in so many life or death situations, and being stuck at a gas station is what finally breaks through.”

“It’s nighttime.” She stares at him for a moment and then she’s laughing again, full bodied real laughter, and he's laughing too.

And it’s as if this gas station became their own personal Ogygia, an oasis, a resting place for them to be stupid kids again. And they don’t talk about the battle, or Rachel, or the volcano, or any of the million things set on tearing them apart. They talked about his mom getting serious about his new boyfriend, about Tyson’s underwater adventures and Grover’s searching shenanigans.

They smack talk with no real heat about who the better fighter is (Oh please, Seaweed Brain, I've been training since before you could tie your own shoes.), and argue about which ancient hero had the greatest journey (Hercules, are you kidding? Did you even read the myth?). They break into the gas station for snacks (What the fuck, Annabeth, where’d you learn to pick a lock? No, I wouldn’t prefer you break the glass, you psycho. Oh my gods, can you really break the glass?), and dissolve into giggles as they try to fit five drachma into the cash register.

They end up back outside sitting on the gas machines facing one another from three feet away.

“Your mom called me the other day.”

Percy, who’d been lazily squinting up at the murky sky, searching for any sign of stars, whipped his head to look at her. “What?”

“She called me on the phone. We talked for a bit. She said she wanted to make sure I was alright.”

“That sounds like something she would do.” He sighs and hops down from the machine, turning away from her, hoping to hide his blush from the dim light. “She cornered me on one of my off weekends, asked what was going on with us.”

“Oh.” He hears the shifting of fabric and assumes she followed him in sliding off the gas machine.

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a long time before she responds.

“What did you say?” She asks, her voice smaller than it was moments ago. He hears her scratching at the flat metal top of the machine. “When she asked, what did you say?”

He runs his finger through his hair, and one gets caught in a particularly large snarl. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” She whispers and gods he’s terrified but he really doesn’t have a choice when her voice wavers like that. Her words shake and every ounce of his being tells him to do whatever it takes to soothe it.

“I said we were fighting. That there wasn’t one sole reason for it, just a bunch of little reasons. I told her that I scared you when I….went away for two weeks last summer. And that you didn’t like bringing Rachel on your quest. I told her that we….. disagree about how to best handle Luke. That I probably wanted to protect you more than I wanted to listen to you.” She laughs softly and he blames what he says next on her laugh. It is the catalyst for everything that follows.

“I told her that we’d be okay. Because no matter what happens I’m always gonna love you.”

He hears her breath catch. He doesn’t have to look back to know she’s turned to face him fully. “Did you mean it?” She calls. He doesn’t answer. The words haven’t caught in his throat, they’ve spontaneously combusted in his vocal chords and he doesn’t think he’ll ever speak again.

The sound of gravel crunching gets closer until suddenly she's beside him, and he didn’t tell his torso to twist toward her, he thinks she might just be his center of gravity.

“Did you mean it?”

She’s looking up at him, and her hair smells like lemons, and her cheeks are pink, and her eyelashes go on for miles, and her sunspots are better than stars. And it’s as if she pulls the words right out of him, he’s hypnotized by everything about her.

“Of course I meant it.”

She exhales and closes her eyes and while he mourns the loss of the sight, his body moves on it’s own accord again and he’s edging closer and closer and she opens her eyes and here they are.

Their noses brush, and this time he closes his eyes, and their noses brush just so, and…

Whoa.

He was wrong, it wasn't just those three significant events that to her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts positively bleeding. It’s clear he’s been waiting his entire life for this moment at this shitty gas station.

Waiting for this. Waiting for her.

They kiss for a moment or an eternity, and they fit. His hands are on her hips and hers clutch at his shirt before sliding up to his throat, and it’s like his soul is whispering, oh there you are.

And then she’s pulling back, so she has just enough space to shake her head without disconnecting from his forehead.

She's breathless when she whispers, “This is a bad idea.”

His hands trail up and down her forearm of their own accord, and when he whispers back he’s breathless too. “Yeah, really bad idea.”

Her hands slide up from his chest to his shoulders, and then she’s kissing him again, with purpose, and he’s kissing back like his life depends on it because he thinks it might, thinks if he lets go of her he’d die on the spot.

It seems his theory might get tested when she pulls back again just far enough to whisper against his lips, “Is it always like that?”

He kisses her again, once, twice, because he can’t help it and whispers back, “I don’t know, you were my first kiss.”

He’d released any serious hold he had on her the moment she hesitated, but then she’s rocking back up to meet him halfway and his entire body thinks thank the gods. He actually sighs his relief into her mouth, as his hands desperately reach for her face, some fingers tangling in her hair, and their lips are magnets, opposites that don’t have a choice but to pull together. Despite how much he wants to keep doing this forever, he has to tell her.

“I don’t wanna lose you, again.” He means not ever, but he figures she understands the severity in his voice. She’s running her hand through his hair, and his slide up and down her back, and she knocks her nose against his as she answers, “I know, me either. I’m confused, this is confusing me.” And she tilts her chin just so, like she did a million years ago, and this time he kisses her.

They kiss for an infinity, he gets to taste her laughter when she giggles at the absurdness of it all, and it’s better than ambrosia. He kisses her until he doesn’t know anything else, until his entire universe is Annabeth Chase, with her cheeks and her curls and her lips. She is everything.

And then headlights penetrate their universe, voices bring an end to their infinity, and Chiron is speaking but it’s nothing, it’s all white noise because she’s no longer in his arms, and his center of gravity is being ripped away and he hears someone ask, “What’d you guys do?”

He’s still looking at her face when she answers, “You know, tried not to strangle each other mostly.”

But, she looks back before she turns all the way around and her gaze is charged and her lips quirk with the secret they share.

He is so screwed.

#so i wrote this in like two hours and its probably a mess but. here you go ig.#aoah ch 3 will be out soon but in the meantime #heres this lol #percabeth #percabeth fic #my fic #my writing #if you comment or rb i will die for you

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hermitblurbs · 3 years ago

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i am so very in love with all of your work and your pirate au has my heart 😩😩

He doesn’t know what he expected, really. But Grian’s got a ship to run, and Scar is nothing if not an outsider. He attempts to note something during the trek to his assigned quarters, though with everything that happened, the only thing he can pick up on is the character. The ship is much nicer than any of the ships he's been on previous, not in quality--the merchant ship he came on was plenty nice--but The Hermit was a home to its inhabitants in the way very few vessels are.

The room he's been given is practical, and almost comically barren, with two hammocks and a chest for storage. It feels like a challenge, like a dare to fill it with personal items and make the room his. He couldn't complete if he wanted to. His last crew made sure he had nothing to his name, and the merchant ship weren't willing to share anything they could sell.

He picks up the sound of a duo bickering about everything and nothing as they pass by his door. He can't stop the pang of jealousy that follows, staying long after the voices fade. A room without a bunkmate should be a blessing on a ship; there's more room, more privacy, and more alone time when you're trapped with a group at sea. Instead it leaves him empty. He's alone, as always.

What is his plan for this? Maybe he expected more from his old friend than a hug and the two minutes they filled with disbelief and half-formed phrases. He understands, he really does. There was a storm in the distance and avoiding that would be top priority. He'd also want to avoid causing a scene, no matter how loyal the crew is. They wouldn't know what to say either, wouldn't know how fill in all those missing stories. So really, this was better. They'll catch up later. Probably.

He sets Grian's gun in the chest, exhaustion weighing on his coattails. Maybe he’s losing his touch.

He banishes the thought instantly with a firm shake of his head. That's ridiculous. He knows what he’s doing. He always has. Confidence is key, expectations leads to disappointment, and insert a third motto here. He’s sure he’s got a third somewhere.

The chest's shut and bolted with firm, confident motions. He's always been alone, so this shouldn't be any different. He'll put his coat away and get some rest, and then he'll be all ready to help sail and charm the crew when he wakes up--

"YOU!" His door slams open, and he does not squeal at the according, sudden, loud bang.

"You," the newcomer repeats before Scar can get a word in. He manages to pick up green and fuzzy on the stranger's appearance before there's an accusing finger in his face

"Me," he echoes, drawing out the 'e' until it ends in a trail.

"Hi. Hello. You're Scar, right?" He continues, moving the finger to hold out a hand. "I'm Bdubs. Grian talks a lot about you. He thought you were dead."

The change leaves his already-anxious nerves reeling in its speed, but Scar's a gentleman first and foremost, so he collects his bearings and gives Bdubs a strong handshake.

Then he finally registers what he said, and his brain stutters again.

"He--Grian talks about me?"

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elriell · 4 years ago

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Okay! So after reading this post about the 8th court and Elain restoring it and this one about the sisters, I wanted to go back through SJM pinterest and see what little nuggets I could find... And something came up a few times that was interesting to me and that was the Moirai.

In ancient Greek religion and mythology, the Moirai (also spelled Moirae or Mœræ; Ancient Greek: Μοῖραι, "lots, destinies, apportioners"), often known in English as the Fates (Latin: Fata),

Their number became fixed at three: Clotho ("spinner"), Lachesis ("allotter") and Atropos ("the unturnable", a metaphor for death).

If you haven’t read the post already about why everything in ACOTAR seems to come in THREES, and how that is interesting go ahead.

We have been having a lot more conversations recently about fate and the cauldron and whether everything is happening for a reason, so stumbling across this on her board was interesting to me.

According to Hesiod's Theogony, Clotho and her sisters (Atropos and Lachesis) were the daughters of Erebus (Darkness) and Nyx (Night), though later in the same work (ll. 901-906) they are said to have been born of Zeus and Themis.

Of course I don’t think it is directly tied to Nyx herself but I think it is an interesting tie between the two, on top of the name Clotho who we know is also a current ACOTAR character. I find it hard to believe that besides pinning these images she did not look further in to the Moirai.

Clotho

Clotho (/ˈkloʊθoʊ/; Greek: Κλωθώ) is a mythological figure. She is the one of the Three Fates or Moirai who spins the thread of human life; the other two draw out (Lachesis) and cut (Atropos) in ancient Greek mythology. Her Roman equivalent is Nona. She also made major decisions, such as when a person was born, thus in effect controlling people's lives. This power enabled her not only to choose who was born, but also to decide when gods or mortals were to be saved or put to death. For example, Clotho brought Pelops back to life when his father killed him.

Feyre. We definitely associate her with Re-birth and becoming anew so this very well could parallel her story, also as a side mention as seen below, Nona was associated with being the Goddess of pregnancy. Not a massive thing but Fae are not suppose to procreate easily, it is suppose to be a rare occurrence and yet Feysand did so in a matter of years.

Nona was one of the Parcae, the three personifications of destiny in Roman mythology (the Moirai in Greek mythology and in Germanic mythology, the Norns), and the Roman goddess of pregnancy. ... Nona, whose name means "ninth", was called upon by pregnant women in their ninth month when the child was due to be born.

Atropos

Atropos was the oldest of the Three Fates, and was known as "the Inflexible One." It was Atropos who chose the manner of death and ended the life of mortals by cutting their threads. She worked along with her two sisters, Clotho, who spun the thread, and Lachesis, who measured the length. Atropos has been featured in several stories such as Atalanta and Achilles.

This seems very on the money with Nesta and her power being Death. She is also the oldest of the sisters. She is also not really know for having a very flexible personality throughout the series.

Lachesis (/ˈlækɪsɪs/; Greek: Λάχεσις, Lakhesis, "disposer of lots", from λαγχάνω, lanchano, "to obtain by lot, by fate, or by the will of the gods"), in ancient Greek religion, was the second of the Three Fates, or Moirai: Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos. Normally seen clothed in white, Lachesis is the measurer of the thread spun on Clotho's spindle, and in some texts, determines Destiny, or thread of life. Lachesis was the apportioner, deciding how much time for life was to be allowed for each person or being. She measured the thread of life with her rod. She is also said to choose a person's destiny after a thread was measured.

Elain. She is the second sister, doesn’t wear white per say but she is seen to be the purer of the bunch generally speaking... We have all theorised for years that while Nesta’s gift is Death it is very likely Elain’s would be Life. This is a pretty well discussed topic and though it isn’t fact it seems very plausible.

“To obtain by lot, by fate, by the will of the gods.”

Could this be her mating bond? She obtained the bond through will of the gods (which throughout my reading of the Moirai it is occasionally believed Zeus ultimately was in control of choosing), though text is not entirely clear for sure.

Perhaps a god choose her fate for her but she will ultimately determine her own destiny by going against their choice, and setting her own destiny as she is suppose to do for others... I don’t know, food for thought.

They controlled the mother thread of life of every mortal from birth to death. They were independent, at the helm of necessity, directed fate, and watched that the fate assigned to every being by eternal laws might take its course without obstruction.

Imagine Elain fucking Archeron going directly against fate and defying the gods, in the ultimate show of choice and asserting her agency, it would be the most epic ARC yet.

Listen Fates, who sit nearest of gods to the throne of Zeus,

and weave with shuttles of adamant,

inescapable devices for councels of every kind beyond counting,

Atropos, Clotho and Lachesis, fine-armed daughters of Night,

hearken to our prayers, all-terrible goddesses, of sky and earth.

Send us rose-bosomed Lawfulness, and her sisters on glittering thrones.

I am by no mean saying they are the fates but I definitely think inspiration was taken from them and could be keys to their future stories. A few other interesting tid-bits;

In Roman mythology the three Moirai are the Parcae or Fata, plural of "fatum" meaning prophetic declaration, oracle, or destiny. The English words fate (native wyrd) and fairy ("magic, enchantment"), are both derived from "fata", "fatum".

Right and crowned Peace, and make this city forget the misfortunes which lie heavily on her heart. The appearance of the gods and the Moirai may be related to the fairy tale motif, which is common in many Indo-European sagas and also in Greek folklore. The fairies appear beside the cradle of the newborn child and bring gifts to him.

These are smaller observations but a lot of references to Fairy, Wyrd *coughs* TOG, and oracles. When we know that Elain is a Seer. Not to mention because I am obsessed with the idea of a Sleeping Beauty retelling next, guess who else had three fairies present gifts to them as a newborn? Aurora. Yet another tie in with Elain.

I found so many more pins about SB on her pinterest I had missed on my quick browse. I don’t know, could be nothing, but considering SJM said she has been planning since ACOMAF it is very possible she tied something like this in early on.

#elain archeron #elriel #acosf spoilers #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #archeron sisters #ACOTAR #theories #myacotar #mymeta

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hizashis-lil-bunbun · 3 years ago

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No Rest for the Wicked- HardDom!Dabi X Fem! Brat Reader

Prompt: Dabi just wants to take a nap but everything goes wrong

I asked a friend in one of my discord groups for a random writing prompt when I was up late. Something about this one activated my inner ✨brat✨

Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.3k

Kinks/Warnings: brat taming, degradation, pain play, spanking, belting, mild dacryphilia, bondage, edging and denial, hints of dubcon

Banner made by the always lovely @ladyshinigami!

••••••••••••••

Exhausted.

That was the best way to sum up Dabi’s mood as he trudged through the bar fronting the League’s headquarters. Shigaraki had sent him out on a mission with orders to “stake out and take out” a small band of up-and-coming heroes. It had been easy enough to find them (newbies can never resist being flashy), but making sure they were all disposed of was another matter. A matter only made more complicated by a few rogue civilians that happened to spot him. It had taken him two full days to track everyone down, leaving him covered in blood, soot, and burns. In short, Dabi needed a break.

“Well, well, well.” Came the nasally voice of their fearless leader, “The prodigal son returns! Took you long enough, Dabi. Hope that means you didn’t fuck up the mission.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dabi snaps back, too tired and sore to care about his tone. Not that he’d be any kinder to Shigaraki if he wasn’t. “I did what you asked and left no witnesses. Now piss off before I turn you into a smoldering pile.”

Shigaraki didn’t rise to Dabi’s bait, opting to simply flip him the bird before going back to whatever game console he was currently obsessed with. Dabi returns the gesture in kind, glowering as he disappears behind the bar and into the League’s living quarters. Their warehouse provides more than enough space for everyone to have their own room, and the boss even allowed them to decorate and furnish them as they pleased. Wasn’t that generous? Dabi plods down the hallway to his assigned room and kicks open the door only to find it was occupied. By you.

“Dabi?” You question for a moment before your eyes light up with excitement. “Dabi! You’re back!”

As a fellow Stain devotee, you’d sought out the LOV and been initiated as a member a mere six months ago. And two months later, you’d been initiated into Dabi’s bed. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves “lovers.” Love was few and far between in a hornet’s nest of villains. But you’d certainly become something more than the occasional lay.

He grunts as he stalks into the room, shedding his coat and boots as he went. Dabi was never big on grand displays of affection. And in his current state, that small show of acknowledgment may as well have been equivalent to a bear hug.

“I missed you.” You chirp back, undeterred by his gruff response. “How was the mission?”

“Long and shitty.” Came his terse reply as he strips off the rest of his clothes and grabs a towel from a nearby wall hook. “I need a fucking shower.”

He wraps the towel around his waist before he sets about searching for body wash and a first aid kit. Greedy eyes roam the plane of his toned torso, eager to touch the scarred and stapled flesh you’d spent many a night mapping out. Before joining the League, you’d never had an opinion one way or the other on touch or physical intimacy. You didn’t dislike it by any means; it was just something people did, fuck buddies or otherwise. But now that you’d shared a bed with Dabi, your perspective had changed. His rough touch was your drug of choice, intoxicating in all the best ways. And with him being gone for almost 72 hours? It was safe to say you were jonesing for a hit.

“Oooh, sounds like fun.” You purr, sprawling out on the mattress in a catlike stretch. “Want me to join you? I think we could use a little… quality time together.”

He snorts derisively at that, straightening up once he’d found his supplies and fixing you with a deep scowl. So pretty even when he’s pissed. You bat your eyelashes in return.

“Don’t get cute, dollface. Once I get cleaned up I’m passing out for the next century.”

Before you can shoot off another coquettish remark, he turns on his heel and marches out the door in the direction of the communal showers. You huff and clamber out of bed to follow him, determined that he wouldn’t get away so easily.

“C’mon Dabi!” You whine, trotting along behind him as he stalks down the hallway. “I haven’t seen you in days! Are you really just gonna give me the cold shoulder?”

“Yup.” He snaps back, shooting you a harsh glare over said shoulder before barging through the bathroom door. From the other side you can hear his bark of “Move it, psycho!” followed by an indignant squeak from whom you can only assume to be Toga. You huff and stamp your foot like a petulant child, turning on your heel to flounce off in the direction of the League’s bar front.

“Bastard.” You seethe under your breath, “Who does he think he is, ignoring me like that? It’s his fault I’m so pent up. If I tried ignoring him when he was all hot and bothered–!”

You pause for a moment as a lightbulb goes off in your head. A single impish thought flashes through your mind and it causes your lips to curl into a Cheshire grin. He wants to play games? You’ll give him games.

You continue your trek into the dimly-lit, woodpandeled speakeasy, a renewed vigor in your stride as you make a beeline for the bar top. Kurogiri is standing behind it as per usual, wiping out a pint glass like the faithful bartender he pretends to be. You sidle up to the bar and place both hands on the oaken surface, adopting a sweet, too-innocent lilt to your voice.

“Kuro-baby.” You purr, the cutesy pet name causing the misty specter to look up from his task. “Can I have a glass of water, please? With lots of ice, if you don’t mind.”

Wordlessly, Kurogiri sets down the glass and picks up a shorter one, using it to scoop up a generous portion of ice from the freezer below before filling it nearly to the brim from the tap. If he has any suspicion of you, he’s very good at hiding it. The same can’t be said for Shigaraki, sitting a few stools down from you and still tapping away at the buttons of his console.

“Fucking with Staples again?” He questions disinterestedly, followed by a hiss of annoyance when the game lets out a series of gunshots. He must have gotten himself killed again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shoot back airily, swiping the glass from Kurogiri’s outstretched hand and hopping off your own barstool.

“It’s your funeral!” He calls after you, waving you off with one hand. You snicker as you march back into the living quarters, one hand wrapped around the chilled glass and the other flattened over the top to ensure you won’t spill a drop along the way. Soon you find yourself back in front of the bathroom door and, suppressing the urge to giggle, you slowly push through it and into the steamy room beyond. In spite of the hideout’s outward appearance, the place is surprisingly clean and well-kempt (all thanks to den mother Kurogiri). Two sinks stand against the left-hand side of the wall, with two doors opposite them leading to the toilets. Next to the sinks are the showers: three open-faced, tile cubes barely covered by flimsy plastic curtains. Toga is standing in front of the nearest sink, wearing a skimpy pair of Hello Kitty pajamas and washing the blood and goop from her latest transformation out of her navy, pleated skirt. She looks up at you when you enter and you quickly put one finger to your lips, smirking as you point between the glass and the running shower beyond. Toga lets loose a sadistic giggle of her own before hastily shushing herself when you hear Dabi’s bark of “Pipe down out there!”

As you move past her, you can see her mouth the words, “You’re so dead, big sis.”

You can feel a jolt of adrenaline course through your veins as you sneak up to the edge of the tiled wall separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom, the glass in your hand shaking briefly. A small amount of water sloshes over the rim and spatters onto the floor, the sound barely overshadowed by the shower.

“Doll?”

His low, rumbling voice coming from the other side of the curtain sends another shiver down your spine.

“What are you up to out there?” He growls dangerously, as if he has a sixth sense when it comes to you and your shenanigans. For just a moment, the rational part of your brain takes over and makes you question your actions. Dabi’s already in a foul mood, and getting worse by the second by the sound of it. Maybe if you hold off and behave like a good girl–

Your body seems to move of its own accord. The next thing you know, the contents of the glass are sailing through the air, arching high over the plastic curtain rod and landing with a messy splat onto your unwitting victim on the other side.

“What the fu–!” Dabi’s curse is cut off by yours and Toga’s mad giggling as you sprint out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Passing by a very confused-looking Spinner, you dart inside Dabi’s room and slam the door, locking it for good measure. Seconds later, he’s pounding on it, using enough force that you’re convinced it might splinter and break off its hinges.

“Open this door right now and make this easier on yourself!” He roars, furiously jiggling the handle.

You let him pound away for a few more seconds, in part to allow yourself time to catch your breath but mostly to delay the unenviable punishment. With a deep, steadying breath, you plaster on a mildly amused expression, undo the lock, and pull open the door. Dabi is visibly seething, water dripping from his hair and cascading in rivulets down his toned chest onto the towel slung low on his hips. His brows are knitted together in rage, turquoise eyes flashing dangerously while one hand is still raised in a fist.

“Oh hey, babe. Done with the shower al–?”

His hands are around your throat before you can blink, your sassy remark devolving into a high-pitched squeak.

“You little bitch.” He spits at you, forcibly backing you further into the room as he advances. “Was that your idea of a joke?”

“N-no.” You gasp in response, voice slightly raspy from the pressure on your jugular. “I just thought–“

“Thought what exactly?” Dabi growls, kicking the door shut behind him with one foot before giving your shoulders a hard shove and pushing you onto the bed. You land with a slight bounce, the momentum giving you just enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Well?” He hisses, venom dripping from the word as he glares down at you.

“I was worried.” You start slowly, tone almost loving as you gaze up at him with big, doe eyes. “You seemed so tense when you got back. And don’t think I didn’t notice those new burns on your arms. So I thought, since the mission was so hard on you…”

Your face suddenly splits into a shit-eating grin.

“I thought you might need to cool down for a minute.”

Dabi blinks for a second, seemingly struck dumb by your remark. And then his hands are back on you in an instant, roughly flipping you over to lie chest-down with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Of all the stupid–“

Your shirt is ripped over your head from behind.

“Immature–“

There goes the bra, clasps and straps lost to a wildfire of blue flames as it falls away from your body in a charred heap.

“Bratty little schemes.”

Your leggings and panties are harshly yanked down, slipped off, and discarded into some unknown corner of the room. You feel cool air hit your legs and backside, moments before a harsh slap lands on your right cheek. With a yelp, you cast a wide-eyed glance over your shoulder at the menacing presence behind you; a pillar of rage and sadistic urges looming over your naked form.

“You wanted my attention that badly, dollface? Well I’m sorry to say you’ve got it now.”

Before you can react beyond a pained, needy whimper, Dabi hooks his right arm under your thighs to haul you up and onto the bed. He lays his full weight across your back and reaches around and underneath the farthest edge of the bed to produce a simple, black cuff, attached to the nylon spreader running along the underside of the mattress. Giving it a few cursory tugs, he grabs ahold of your right wrist and yanks it towards the corresponding corner, attaching the device with practiced speed and precision. You continue to writhe and pant below him, muttering a litany of curses and “no’s” as he does the same to the opposite side. You’re now bound by both wrists, unable to do more than thrash wildly on the mattress in a humiliating, spread eagle position.

“Seems like you need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.” He snarls in your ear, pushing himself off of you and marching over to his discarded pile of clothing. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric, followed by the telltale clink of metal on metal that makes your eyes go wide.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare…” You start breathlessly, just before the first blinding sting of leather greets your exposed skin, right at the juncture where the soft swell of your ass meets the tender flesh of your thighs.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Dabi says mockingly, his tone dripping with false pity and saccharine sweetness as he takes his place at the edge of the bed once more. “I don’t have any problems dealing with a mouthy… little… brat like you.”

His words are punctuated by three more vicious blows, this time striking the meatiest part of your ass and sending the pliant flesh jiggling. The metal rivets in his belt only add to the pain, biting into your rapidly heating flesh and causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Shifting your hips in a futile attempt to get away from Dabi and his newfound torture device, you roll partly onto your side and look over at him with watery, pleading eyes.

“S-sir… Dabi, please!” You sputter out, voice already wavering as your resolve crumbles beneath the stinging sensation. But Dabi’s not in the mood for bargaining. Instead, he growls as he wraps an arm around your waist and shoves his left knee underneath your belly, hiking your ass further into the air.

“Hold still!” He barks at you, another crack of his belt sending a fresh wave of searing pain along your already raw skin. You scream in agony, unable to do more than wriggle and squirm against his hold.

“Start counting, brat.” He demands huskily, your only warning before the next punishing spank meets your burning flesh.

“One!” You gasp out, “I’m sorry! Please–!”

Another blow lands, somehow harder than all the others, revisiting the spot where ass and thigh meet and causing you to wail in pain.

“Too late for apologies, dollface. The only thing I wanna hear from that slutty little mouth is counting. Understand me?”

The arm looped around your waist tightens in warning, and you hiccup before sputtering out a shaky, “T-two.”

“That’s more like it.”

He continues spanking you at a steady pace, the only respite coming when he pauses to hear you choke out the next number. By ten strokes, you’re bawling. By fifteen, you’re practically brain dead, unable to quell the sobs that wrack through your body or think beyond the next count. He mercifully stops at twenty, dropping the belt and loosening his own grip on you. All you can focus on is the burning pain radiating out from your tanned backside, sobbing as you bury your face into the pillow below you for comfort. Dabi’s own breathing is heavy and ragged, and he takes a few deep, measured breaths to steady himself. After a few moments, that hand that once held his belt is carefully laid on the curve of your ass, and you gasp both at the gentle touch and the shock of prickly pain it brings. Judging by the way he strokes the heated flesh, you’re sure the silver eyelets have left a series of bruises behind.

“S-s-sir.” You blubber, “I’m... I…”

“Shhhh, quiet down.” He says softly, voice uncharacteristically tender as he runs his hand along the width of your heated cheeks. “It’s over now. You did so well.”

The unexpected praise makes you whimper beneath his affections, devolving into a quiet moan as his hand travels even lower, fingers coming to rest at the entrance to your heated core. He begins to gently massage at your folds, middle finger slipping inside to find you impossibly wet and clenching around the digit.

“You filthy little thing…” He breathes out on a chuckle, “Are you really that turned on by me beating the hell out of your cute little ass?”

His finger delves deeper, pussy eagerly sucking him in as you keen below him. His free hand begins to lightly scratch up and down your back, goosebumps rising in the wake of each careful caress. Without thinking, you shift further onto your knees, fighting through the pain to push against his hand.

“Please, Sir.” You moan wantonly, “More. Please.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi slips a second finger inside of you and begins to languidly pump them in and out. Pain and pleasure meld together in a sinful symphony, pants and whimpers coming from you as you rock your abused body against his own scarred flesh. He adjusts the angle and crooks his fingers downwards, curling them just shy of that sensitive bundle of nerves you know would have you seeing stars. Your back arches as you hungrily push against him, dignity forgotten in the face of pure, carnal desire.

“Getting impatient, are we?” He growls teasingly, fingers suddenly slipping out from your sopping core and wrenching a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat. He moves off the bed entirely, ordering you to stay put as he walks over to the nearby dresser and opens up the top drawer. Like the cuffs would allow you to do anything otherwise.

“Ah, here we go.” He says after a few seconds of rummaging, striding back over to the bed and taking up residence behind you. You feel the mattress dip under his weight seconds before his hands find your hips, roughly hauling them upwards and forcing your face further into the pillows. You shriek as he grabs ahold of your left cheek and squeezes harshly, pain shooting up your spine like a bolt of summer lightning. Something hard and cool prods at your quivering entrance, briefly brushing against your clit before being plunged inside of you. The sudden stretch feels at once too much and deeply satiating, sending burning, pleasurable heat licking across your oversensitized nerves. Once the toy is sunk to the hilt, Dabi gives a short grunt of satisfaction before sliding off the bed and circling around to lean over your quivering form. You turn your head to face him and he smirks at the sight of your fucked out expression: eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with half-dried tears, lips swollen from the bluntness of your own teeth.

“Aren’t you a sight?” He hums lowly, brushing away an errant strand of hair to plant a condescending kiss to your temple. “Such a needy little slut for me.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi pats your cheek, straightens up, and turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You squeak out, squirming against your restraints as you watch his retreating back. “You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“That’s the plan, dollface.” He shoots back, casting you a wicked grin over his left shoulder as he pulls the door open. “At least until I finish my shower.”

#bnha #bnha x reader #dabi x reader #Dabi #mha smut #mha x reader #tw: noncon #tw: pain play

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efrmellifer · 3 years ago

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Wondrous Tails 2022: Seven

Cafe/College

based on my time working at my university's writing center and a certain Subway ad c;

Etien looked at her phone, sighing at herself for how long she’d taken in the writing center—now everyone who wasn’t on the campus dining plan would have stampeded up to the food court for lunch, and she’d be in line forever. He stomach growled, as if to further chastise her.

She looked between the establishments, but only the little student-staffed sandwich spot had a manageable line, so she slotted herself in at the back of it, pondering what she wanted.

Having decided, she ran it over in her mind again and again, following the line as it crawled toward the till. She tried to ignore the voices of the others building their sandwiches, hoping to avoid a repeat of the time she had accidentally ordered ham because someone else’s order stuck in her mind.

But finally, it was her turn.

“So. What’s it gonna be, compadre? Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

She giggled, but set into her order.

The guy—Estinien, according to his nametag—dutifully assembled the toasted flatbread and the ingredients to go within as Etien went along, though he did throw up his eyebrows several times, especially as they went through the vegetables together.

“That’s one hell of a sandwich,” he told her as he handed it across the counter so she could take it to be rung up.

“I know,” she mumbled, taking a bill from her wallet and shoving it into the tip jar. “Thank you for doing it.”

Estinien slipped off his glove so he could fish the tip out of the jar. He’d earned that.

The next week, it was much the same. Etien wondered if professors were assigning a bunch of extra writing work in a weekly cycle now, that so many students would need the help of writing center staff with such regularity.

But that didn’t matter so much as it mattered that she managed to get lunch before her next class. So she hustled over to the student center.

When Estinien saw her enter the food court, he tapped one of his co-workers.

“Hey. Get some bread in the toaster.”

In between the other orders, he did his best to recall everything she’d asked for last time, layering it onto the bread just so.

And when she got to the front of the line, he handed the finished sandwich to her right away.

“Should be the same as last time,” he assured her.

Wide-eyed, Etien just nodded, taking the warm bag of the sandwich and heading to the checkout.

On her way out, she shoved twice the tip she’d given him last time directly into his hand.

The week after that, Estinien was confused when Etien didn’t arrive, even when everyone else had come through (and then filtered out) from the lunch rush.

But he’d seen her around campus before, so when he happened to glimpse a friend—or at least someone she hung around with often enough he’d seen them together—heading for the door, he called out.

“Hey! Where’s--” he’d never learned her name. “Where’s your friend with the reddish hair? She usually comes in here a little late?”

“Oh, Etien! She’s stuck at the writing center with students getting ready for finals next week.”

Estinien thought. “Has she eaten?”

Her friend laughed. “I don’t think so.”

So he slipped some bread into the toaster before the little shop went on its afternoon break (hey, they all had to go to class sometime).

It was rushed, but he did manage to get Etien’s usual together, and slipped it into a bag. Then, it was just finding his way to the writing center. He didn’t even know the school had one of those.

But with some not great but better than nothing directions, he found his way to the building and talked his way past the front desk, to leave the bag on the table she was working at.

“Estinien?” she asked, peering up at him.

“I heard you hadn’t eaten yet. I wanted to make sure you did.”

“Oh, that’s really sweet. Thank you.”

He looked at his shoes, aware time was ticking for both of them, then met her eyes again, cheeks burning. “Would you ever want to get—to go out? For coffee or something, not sandwiches.”

Etien giggled. “Sure.”

He picked up her hand gently, taking her pen and writing his phone number on the inside of her arm. “All right. Talk to you later, then. Bye.”

And then he was gone.

She took a bite of the sandwich, then turned back to the student trying to outline their final essay. “So. About those supports for your thesis.”

The student laughed. “That’s okay, I can schedule a new appointment for later. You’d better eat your lunch; your new boyfriend went to all that trouble.”

Blushing, Etien did just that.

#WondroustailsofffxivWriting #fic #estinyan

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becomewings · 4 years ago

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The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>

BTS Universe Story Highlights, pt. 3 / 4

« pt. 2 | » pt. 4

Introduction

The following sections for JiMin’s and HoSeok’s arcs are 4.5k and 4k, respectively. As with pt.2 of the series, I have included “tl;dr commentary” at the bottom of the post after a section of additional thoughts. This commentary summarizes the parenthetical asides I made throughout the summaries and may be of interest as standalone reading to those who have already played the game yet would like to review its connections to the BU texts and MVs.

Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD

This guide contains major spoilers and includes references to other BU media

Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission

Stopped Time

SeokJin’s primary goal in JiMin’s story is to free him from the hospital psychiatric ward to which his parents have him committed before he gives up on life. Much like his sudden, unexplained absence in The Notes 1, JiMin is not even present in the first two episodes except for an introductory cutscene. In a hospital hallway on an unspecified date, he plays on the colored tiles and stops when he reaches “the line” by the exit door. (This line marks the end of the psychiatric ward and is first described in his 11 May Year 22 entry in The Notes 1.) Everything goes black except for JiMin and the door. A nurse taps him on the shoulder, bringing him back to reality, and hands him pills.

The playable story begins on 22 April Year 22 with SeokJin attending a meeting organized by the patrons of the Songho Foundation. Seo HyunJung, the city’s Deputy Mayor, suggested it to SeokJin’s father, Kim ChangJun, at the inauguration ceremony. (SeokJin attends the inauguration ceremony on 11 April in many loops; it plays out in episode 2 of JungKook’s arc.) SeokJin scans over the crowd, reflecting that while the pretext of the meeting is to discuss community development, in reality it is a social gathering to advance individual careers. These sessions make him uncomfortable, but this time he is attending of his own accord with the intention of meeting someone.

This someone is a woman who actually approaches him first, introducing herself as Sim SeonMi. SeokJin knows that she is JiMin’s mother. He has met her in previous loops but needs to pretend that this is their first time meeting. His goal is to bring up JiMin naturally and persuade her to discharge him from the hospital. Before he can broach the subject, the high school principal, Jo JinMyung, joins them. SeokJin uses his arrival as an opportunity to bring up school and guide the conversation toward JiMin by first asking if they know each other. “We’ve met a few times at gatherings. I was told her child used to be a student at our school,” answers Jo JinMyung. “Ah, really? I attended Jeil High too,” says SeokJin. Sim SeonMi looks taken aback, and he asks for her child’s name. She tries to avoid the question by saying that they probably won’t know each other due to their age gap, but when pressed again she relents. “His name is Park JiMin.” “I know JiMin! We were close. Is JiMin doing okay?” SeokJin responds brightly, wondering if she will provide an empty lie. Instead, she excuses herself with the claim that she needs to greet someone else.

SeokJin quickly wraps up with the principal and begins to casually approach her again. He stops when he overhears two women mention her name. “There’s no gathering she doesn’t attend these days. Looks like her husband’s star is on the rise, thanks to her efforts…” The player has the choice to listen quietly or butt in. If SeokJin stands by, they speculate that she was invited because her husband’s company is one of the patrons. If he interrupts, they caution him to stay away from her. In both routes, SeokJin learns that Sim SeonMi doesn’t have the best reputation and that rumors of her hospitalized son are spreading. Their blame on her helps explain what underlay her hysteric responses in previous loops.

Though it’s uncomfortable, SeokJin reapproaches her when she is alone. She greets him a little coldly. “You don’t have to be so formal to me. I’m JiMin’s friend,” he assures. “Is that so? How friendly you are.” Sim SeonMi smiles awkwardly and keeps looking elsewhere as though for an escape. “It would’ve been nice if JiMin’s father was here… He’ll join me another time, so you can say hello to him then.” “Yes. I’ll make sure to bring my father along then,” SeokJin replies, hoping to snag her attention. Her eyes change at the mention of his father. “Shall we do that, then? It’ll be even better with the Assemblyman.” SeokJin brings up JiMin again by either asking if he still attends Jeil High or how he’s doing. Her uneasy answers are “These days? Yes… Of course” or “...He’s fine,” respectively. SeokJin requests JiMin’s phone number, rendering her silent for a long moment. “That’s a bit difficult. I’m not sure I can give out JiMin’s contact information without his approval.” SeokJin attempts to convince her by stating that they were close friends in school yet lost contact when he studied abroad. But all he gets from her is, “Then I’ll ask JiMin, and make sure to contact you if he says it’s okay.” Sim SeonMi taps him on the shoulder and quickly walks away.

By 25 April, SeokJin still hasn’t heard from JiMin’s mother, so he decides to visit her and reveal that he knows JiMin was admitted to an inpatient psychiatric ward. Uncle JunHo, his father’s secretary, intercepts him before he leaves the house and asks where he’s going. SeokJin either answers that he is heading to school or meeting a friend to work on assignments. He declines a ride from JunHo in the first path but can’t conjure an excuse to not accept in the second. In both, JunHo comments that it’s not easy being the family of a public official and that he noticed SeokJin engaged in a long conversation with Sim SeonMi at the meeting. SeokJin explains that she is his friend’s mother, and JunHo advises him not to get too friendly with her because she doesn’t have a great reputation. In the second path, he also adds information about JiMin’s father that catches SeokJin’s attention because he has not heard anything about the man. Apparently Park JinWook is one of the foundation’s board members. ‘He’s pretty remarkable. He entered as a researcher and became a board member… The one thing that people like him want most is connections,” JunHo muses. He cautions SeokJin to “be wary of any advances [he] can see the intent of.”

The scene cuts to the exterior of an apartment building after SeokJin has either driven himself or been dropped off nearby by JunHo. He considers the public assessment of JiMin’s mother: she works hard to elevate her husband’s status but ignores her own son in favor of the family’s reputation. Sim SeonMi happens to step outside before SeokJin enters the building. She looks wary when he says, “I haven’t heard from you, so I decided to come see you myself.” In an effort to persuade her, SeokJin begins with either “I want to see JiMin” or “I came to see you because I know everything.” In the first path, she lies about not getting in touch with JiMin yet because he is studying abroad in the U.S. SeokJin is stunned by this egregious falsehood. “From what I’ve heard… JiMin’s locked up in a hospital. He’s at the Gyeong Il Hospital, isn’t he?” A similar reaction occurs in the second path from the point of SeokJin mentioning the hospital. Sim SeonMi hardens and objects to the phrase “locked up,” stating that JiMin is an inpatient because he is sick. “SeokJin, I appreciate that you’re worried about JiMin… But I’m his mother, and that means I know what’s best for him.” The paths converge as she tries to leave, claiming they have nothing left to discuss. Persuading her to release JiMin from the hospital seems impossible. “I’ll look into it on my own. I’m going to see JiMin, no matter how hard you try to stop me,” SeokJin warns. Sim SeonMi glares at him, voice low and cold. “‘SeokJin. If I can give you a word of advice… Adults have reasons for everything they do. You should forget about this.”

The beginning of episode 3 visits JiMin’s perspective on 27 April. He has relocated temporarily to the surgical ward due to an injured wrist. After treatment, he returns to his hospital room to find his mother arranging some items she brought. JiMin approaches nervously, wondering if she thinks he has caused a problem again. “It doesn’t look too bad, thankfully,” she remarks, glancing at his wrist. Her concern is unfamiliar yet welcome. “Do you know a Kim SeokJin? He said he attended Jeil High.” The mention of SeokJin surprises JiMin, but he tries to answer passively because of her angry tone. “Yes, but why are you suddenly ask—” “Did you contact him?” Sim SeonMi interrupts, halting her organizing to stare at him. “Why are you so immature? Do you ever think of anyone outside of here?” Injury throbbing, JiMin doesn’t know how to respond. “If you want to leave, tell me why you’re doing this. Tell me instead of embarrassing me by contacting some random person! Is that why you hurt your wrist? To rebel?” she demands. JiMin tries to explain this isn’t true, but she doesn’t listen. “I’m really tired, too. How many years has it been? How long do I have to suffer because of you?” Sim SeonMi leaves, the rant having done little to expend her anger. JiMin knows that her worries are pointed at herself, not at him; he is someone who makes life harder for her. He decides not to talk about anything else because he doesn’t want to make things even more difficult for her.

The story cuts to SeokJin loitering outside Gyeong Il Hospital, mulling over what action to take since JiMin is moving out of the surgical ward that day. (The date is unspecified in the game, but in The Notes 1, he is scheduled to return to the psychiatric ward on 16 May.) SeokJin knows that he will be the first suspect if JiMin disappears now and that he must act carefully since he was unable to persuade JiMin’s mother. As the day grows dark, he spots Sim SeonMi rushing into the hospital on her second visit. SeokJin hurries after her, worried that something happened to JiMin. The panicked voices of a medical team emerge from JiMin’s room. Doctors crowd around someone laying on the bed. “No, JiMin!” SeokJin hears Sim SeonMi scream followed by the sound of shattering glass.

The loop resets, and the game rejoins SeokJin on 10 May standing at a road and reflecting on the last failure. “If JiMin isn’t saved while he’s in the surgical ward, he makes his choice days after he returns to the closed ward. But it happened too quickly this time. What pushed him?” he wonders. He recalls Sim SeonMi’s final words before the loop ended. “No, JiMin! I’m sorry. I was wrong! You can see your friends; you can do anything you want… So please, open your eyes!” SeokJin realizes that he may have caused Sim SeonMi to act out of the ordinary, which in turn affected JiMin’s choice. It’s his fault, and he made JiMin suffer more. He thinks, “Even though I’ve experienced losing my friends before… No matter how many times it repeats… It never gets any easier.” SeokJin decides to abandon persuading JiMin’s mother to avoid provoking her and reverts his plan to sneaking JiMin out like in earlier loops. But first, he must focus on a more pressing issue—rescuing HoSeok after he collapses on the bridge that day.

After a cut, HoSeok awakens in SeokJin’s car and is shocked to see him. “Wow, is it really you? How long has it been?” “Lean on me for a bit longer. You didn’t hurt yourself when you fell?” SeokJin checks. HoSeok assures him that he’s all right and asks how SeokJin saw him. When SeokJin says he was just passing by, HoSeok remarks, “Wow! That’s so weird. Thanks for saving me.” It’s the first time SeokJin has heard something like this. He remembers JiMin in a previous loop telling him, “This is where I should be.” Does JiMin really want to leave the hospital? SeokJin believed that he did, but now he’s less confident. “HoSeok. If you had someone in front of you who wanted to die because living was too difficult… What would you do?” he asks. HoSeok answers without hesitation, “Well, I would help them.” “Even if that person doesn’t want my help?” says SeokJin. “ Isn’t helping them the right thing to do? Even if you don’t know why they want to die… They need to keep living for something to change,” HoSeok muses.

SeokJin drops HoSeok off at Two Star Burger before returning to the hospital alone, his friend’s words sticking with him. Even though JiMin isn’t guaranteed to be happy when he leaves the hospital, he needs to stay alive to have even the opportunity for happiness. Still uncertain how to proceed, SeokJin heads to the hospital lounge to organize his thoughts before visiting JiMin. Through an open door, he spots JiMin trudging down a hallway. SeokJin either calls out to him or watches him, but the latter is the result regardless because JiMin doesn’t hear him in the first path. JiMin stares at the door as people come and go and eventually returns to his room.

On 7 May, JiMin roams the hallways of the 5th floor surgical ward. He was moved there about ten days earlier after he ran into someone and fell. The surgical ward is not too different from the psychiatric one: the hallway is a little longer, and it has a lounge in the middle. But the freedom to move around in this space brings him joy that he doesn’t have in the psychiatric ward. He even wanders around at night when no one is around and dances in the lounge. Despite this newfound freedom, his body stops at the same point in the hallway—where the psychiatric ward ends four floors above him. After reaching his line again, JiMin returns to his room. He assumes a student occupied the bed before him because he finds a forgotten workbook in the nearby drawers. Remembering that he used this workbook in school, he flips through and reads the notes scribbled in the margins. “I want to go to a PC cafe, too…” he murmurs, spotting the note “wanna go to the PC cafe later?” JiMin finds a haphazardly folded paper tucked into the pages and unfolds it curiously. “Career… plan?”

The story cuts to 10 May with SeokJin, from a hidden vantage point, watching JiMin sit in the hospital lounge and read a book. It reminds him of their days in the classroom hideout. “He seems okay right now.” SeokJin receives a call from Uncle JunHo about the scheduling of a Songho Foundation seminar. During their conversation, a loudspeaker announcement summons JiMin to the 2nd floor physical therapy room. He drops the book and runs out of the lounge. Once finished with the call, SeokJin tries to find the book JiMin was reading. He doesn’t see it among those scattered around the lounge and thinks that JiMin must’ve had a reason to hide it. Hoping it will provide him a clue to understanding his friend, SeokJin hunts around either the window or trash can with no luck before turning to the vending machine. After scooting a bookcase out of the way, he is finally able to rescue the item. SeokJin deduces that the workbook doesn’t belong to JiMin because it’s Year 2 material and JiMin was admitted to the hospital in his first year. He finds the detached sheet with two different types of handwriting and determines which belongs to JiMin. The game provides a quick flashback shot of JiMin filling out the paper. “Aspiring Career Path: Will I be able to go to university too? Scholastic Activities: What should I learn in Year 2… Extracurricular Activities: Join the dance club HoSeok started.” SeokJin wonders what JiMin felt as he wrote in the answers. He considers how JiMin people-watched from the hallway and looked happy reading the workbook. “You want to leave, don’t you?” SeokJin thinks. “Let’s get out of here. So you can be the one to decide what kind of life you want to live.” He resolves to break JiMin free.

On 11 May, JiMin stops at the invisible line in the hallway again. He stares at the door before turning around and bumping into someone. He is shocked speechless when he realizes that it’s SeokJin. The next episode continues from this moment but switches to SeokJin’s perspective. He calms JiMin down before bringing him to the lounge, giving the excuse that he was in the hospital to visit someone else. JiMin’s cheeks are hollowed, his hands skinnier than normal. SeokJin wonders if he can inspire JiMin to act if he tells him that he’ll be able to do all of the things he wrote on the career plan once he leaves the hospital. He either asks, “JiMin, are you injured?” or “How long have you been in the hospital?” In both paths, JiMin refers to his wrist injury and the time he’s been in the surgical ward rather than the psychiatric one. He looks grim when he can’t give a proper answer to either “When do you get discharged?” or “Are you sick?” “I think I have to go now. It’s almost time for treatment, too…” JiMin stands to leave, avoiding his gaze. SeokJin rushes after him and blocks his path, knowing this might be their last chance to speak if they say goodbye already. “JiMin, I’m here because I know everything. You want to leave this place, don’t you? You’ve been here for two years.” JiMin steps back but doesn’t run away. “I just happened to hear… how your mother locked you in the psychiatric ward,” SeokJin explains. JiMin shakes his head with a frightened expression. “No. I’m here because I’m sick.” His eyes falter when SeokJin presses, “JiMin, I can help you. Let’s get out of here together.”

Short flashbacks play from JiMin’s perspective alongside his thoughts: “At first, I wanted to leave. I called my mom and cried until my voice went hoarse, asking her to take me home. That I didn’t want to stay here. But she didn’t listen. Because this is where I should be…” Aloud, JiMin speaks in a voice that sounds like he has given up on everything. “Even if I leave, I’ll eventually come back.” SeokJin shakes his head. “What’s important is how you feel. JiMin, you really want to stay here? That’s okay with you?” Depending on the players’ choice, he either continues, “Do you really not have anything you want to do?” or “‘You really want to stay here in the hospital?” In the first path, SeokJin tries to remind him of something he must want to do like studying or dancing. “I don’t… have anything like that,” JiMin lies. In the second path, JiMin says it’s better for him in the hospital because outside people treat him like a freak. SeokJin remembers the women whispering about Sim SeonMi and her hospitalized son at the Songho Foundation meeting. In both paths, JiMin is pale and shaky. SeokJin decides to ask one more time. “You don’t want to go outside and see your friends?” JiMin seems to perk up at the mention of “friends,” but he does not respond or lift his gaze. SeokJin’s parting words are, “Think about it, JiMin… I’ll come back to visit again.”

The next day (12 May), SeokJin reflects on his failure to persuade both JiMin and his mother. “What can I do to help JiMin get over his fear and gain courage?” he wonders. The career plan comes to mind again with JiMin’s notes of college, studying, and dancing—the things he wants to do outside of the hospital. This prompts SeokJin to remember a day in the classroom hideout when he filmed HoSeok dancing. On the sidelines, TaeHyung complimented HoSeok’s moves and asked if JiMin could dance like that. Gaze full of envy and longing, JiMin answered, “No. How could I do that?” “HoSeok! JiMin says he wants to try!” TaeHyung called. Flustered, JiMin tried to stop him, but HoSeok looked over. “Do you want to try?” JiMin insisted that he couldn’t, but TaeHyung pushed him forward and HoSeok gladly demonstrated the routine. JiMin hesitated at first to attempt it alone but began to move at their encouragement. In the present, SeokJin believes that he has found an answer in this memory. “TaeHyung, who pushed him forward… and HoSeok, who believed that he could do it. Maybe one of those two will help JiMin muster up the courage.”

SeokJin picks TaeHyung to help him persuade JiMin, considering that he was the first person to notice how JiMin was feeling when they watched HoSeok dance and helped JiMin take action when he hesitated. (We know from The Notes 1 that SeokJin’s later, successful choice ends up being HoSeok instead.) On 13 May, SeokJin visits TaeHyung’s convenience store to explain JiMin’s situation, and TaeHyung immediately agrees to help. Late that night and with little planned, they sneak into JiMin’s hospital room. Sensing their presence, JiMin turns on the light and is especially surprised to see TaeHyung. “We’re here to get you out of here, JiMin,” he says. “Did you think about it?” SeokJin asks. When JiMin hesitates, TaeHyung presses him to answer honestly. “Park JiMin, do you like being here? Staying here is awful! Let’s leave. You can think when we’re outside.” TaeHyung forces JiMin to his feet even as he hesitates and protests about the impending night rounds, although he does not push TaeHyung’s hand away. SeokJin knows this is hasty but decides to trust TaeHyung. Out in the hallway, he reflects that if even he spoke the same words, JiMin would not agree. SeokJin has encountered moments like this before where his friends solve problems that he cannot fix alone. “TaeHyung seems to be JiMin’s answer, just like YoonGi needed JungKook,” SeokJin thinks. (JungKook saving YoonGi is not a solution that played out in YoonGi’s story, but this is a familiar theme from Notes 1 and forward.)

The elevator arrives as they turn the corner, its doors opening to reveal Sim SeonMi. SeokJin warns, “Hide. It’s JiMin’s mom.” She walks past without noticing them. SeokJin quickly presses the elevator button, but it has already left. “JiMin, quick!” TaeHyung calls. “TaeHyung, I just…” “You can’t look back,” TaeHyung says firmly. He and SeokJin pull JiMin towards the stairwell, but JiMin stops walking. “What’s wrong?” asks TaeHyung. JiMin’s expression is on the verge of crying yet also angry. “I can’t,” he whispers. “Park JiMin, we don’t have time for this—” TaeHyung is interrupted by Sim SeonMi’s distant voice. “Where’d he go? The bathroom?” SeokJin tugs JiMin’s arm, but he looks afraid again. “SeokJin, I… I can’t do this. I don’t think I can.” SeokJin either soothes JiMin himself or has TaeHyung talk to him. In the first path, he takes JiMin’s trembling hand. “It’s safe for me here.” JiMin shakes his head. “No, JiMin. Something bad will happen if you stay here,” SeokJin cautions. “No, I have to stay here. That’s what’s right. I want to stay here,” JiMin insists. In the second path, SeokJin shoots TaeHyung a look, and TaeHyung in turn scans over JiMin. The tapping sound of shoes rings through the silent hallway. TaeHyung begins, “JiMin, if you stop here…” The paths rejoin when Sim SeonMi spots them and calls to JiMin, face livid as she approaches. “Oh… Mom.” The color drains from JiMin’s face. “Please… Please! Can’t you just stay put?” she demands sharply.

TaeHyung attempts to intervene, introducing himself as JiMin’s friend. Sim SeonMi does not look at him even when he explains that JiMin didn’t expect their visit and they were just taking him outside so as not to disturb the sleeping patients. SeokJin chimes in too, hoping their flimsy excuse will work, but Sim SeonMi orders JiMin back to his room. Looking defeated, JiMin trudges out of sight. Sim SeonMi finally turns her gaze on SeokJin, regarding him with the same expression as she utters the same words from the last loop. “I didn't know you were JiMin’s friend.” She warns them not to visit him again like this because he is very sick and it will interfere with his treatment. Before coldly turning to leave, she touches TaeHyung’s shoulder for a moment. (This same gesture was given to HoSeok in the hospital after JiMin’s seizure at the bus stop on 15 September Year 20 in Notes 1.) Her presence is like a wall separating them from JiMin. (SeokJin’s observation echoes HoSeok’s feeling that she was drawing an uncrossable line between them that September.) TaeHyung yells after her, “What’s wrong with him?! You can’t even spare the time to talk to us?!” SeokJin cautions him to stop. “Let me go! JiMin! Park JiMin!” TaeHyung’s voice rings loudly in the hallway, but no one answers. As they leave the hospital, he asks, “Do you think JiMin will be okay?” SeokJin cannot respond because he knows the truth: when JiMin returns to the psychiatric ward, he always makes the same awful choice.

The story cuts to JiMin sitting on his hospital bed and staring at his feet, unable to face his mother. He regrets following SeokJin and TaeHyung. “It was a lie, wasn’t it?” Sim SeonMi asks. “What those kids said earlier. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” JiMin apologizes, throat catching. “What were you going to do? What could you possibly do outside of this place?” she demands. JiMin remembers all the things he thought about alone in the lounge: going to school, making friends, and learning dance from HoSeok again. “I want to live a regular life. It’s nothing that special. Why is it that I’m not allowed to dream?” he thinks. “JiMin, let’s focus on getting better first. When you’re all better… I’ll let you do whatever you want once you’re discharged. But you know that now isn’t the time. Let’s do it when you’re back to normal,” Sim SeonMi advises with a power in her voice that he can’t fight. Questions pile up in his head: what is getting better, and what is normal? But he holds it in and nods, not wanting to make things any more difficult for her. “Okay, Mom. I will…” As he speaks, it dawns on him that he’ll never get to leave the hospital.

JiMin moves back to the psychiatric ward after SeokJin and TaeHyung’s visit. The place is still the same: a man mutters that he’s not crazy; a child stays glued to the window, waiting for their mom. “And then there’s me, unable to progress because I’m locked in the past. If nothing changes even as time flows, how is it any different than time standing still?” On 19 May, JiMin stands in the bathroom with the water running. He sees and hears the falling drops as rain and smells a sharp stickiness. Reflected in the water in the sink, he sees a vision of himself on “that day.” (This is referring to 6 April Year 11 and the events of the arboretum, first introduced in that dated entry in The Notes 1 and revealed in full on 12 August Year 22 of The Notes 2.) “...I hate it.” JiMin covers his eyes. “I want to forget everything. I want to rest.” The glass shatters, concluding his arc.

Someone Left Behind

HoSeok’s story opens on 11 May Year 22 with SeokJin providing some chronological context. So far, he has not made it to June once in the loops because HoSeok collapses from his narcolepsy and JiMin is still trapped in the hospital. SeokJin can encounter JiMin naturally if he admits HoSeok to the hospital after his collapse on 10 May, but HoSeok has an accident in the hospital stairwell and falls into despair over his leg injury. (10 May is the date HoSeok collapses and wakes up in the hospital in The Notes 1, and this is likely the moment referenced by his bridge scene in the I Need U MV.) Even if SeokJin prevents that accident or helps HoSeok avoid admittance to the hospital entirely, his narcolepsy grows worse over time after 10 May. SeokJin determines that he needs to control HoSeok’s narcolepsy in order to save him, and he heads to Two Star Burger where HoSeok works to begin earnestly investigating.

A cutscene plays out at the restaurant: HoSeok, wearing a manager’s tag, watches two friends eating at a table while someone places their order with him. His expression is distant and briefly sad until he catches himself and smiles brightly at the customer. When the door chimes, he greets the new visitor and realizes it’s SeokJin. This is apparently their first time meeting in this loop because HoSeok heard from the other guys that Seokjin returned. SeokJin asks how he’s doing, and HoSeok replies, “Me? Same as usual.” SeokJin knows that “same as usual” means HoSeok’s life has a set, monotonous routine: working his part-time job, going to dance practice, and occasionally visiting the children’s home. Sometimes, he also comes to the bridge over the river and watches the scenery. The scene transitions to this location later at night as SeokJin narrates this. He stands at a distance so HoSeok doesn’t see him. HoSeok’s out-of-character, melancholy expression worries SeokJin. He hasn’t observed any changes to his friend’s daily routine, and HoSeok hasn’t collapsed recently—so why does he keep collapsing on 10 May?

The narrative cuts to 3 May. (I double-checked the dates and can only assume that this is a new loop, although a reset is not specifically mentioned—or else the opening date was a typo.) SeokJin mulls the situation over alone for a while but ends up going to NamJoon out of frustration. NamJoon and HoSeok share similarities, and they’re both responsible for other people. Believing that NamJoon knows HoSeok best, SeokJin visits his container. NamJoon greets him warmly. JungKook is already there, killing time after school. SeokJin mentions that he saw HoSeok a few days earlier at Two Star Burger but couldn’t really talk to him because he was busy. NamJoon suggests inviting him to join them after work and bring some hamburgers too since JungKook is hungry. SeokJin either calls HoSeok himself or lets JungKook call. In the first path, HoSeok says he’ll come as soon as SeokJin mentions that a few of them are together. In the second path, while JungKook is on the phone, SeokJin asks NamJoon how HoSeok is and learns that he practices dance at the cultural center every day. SeokJin wonders if HoSeok is pushing himself too hard. The paths rejoin: before HoSeok arrives, SeokJin inquires about his narcolepsy too. NamJoon doesn’t know much except that he’s still taking medication for it and seems to be doing okay. It seems that no one dares to bring it up since HoSeok doesn’t speak about it openly. The conversation trails off while they wait, although it’s not awkward—it reminds SeokJin of old times together.

HoSeok arrives with a cheerful greeting, wafting in the smell of fresh hamburgers. “These hamburgers were hand-made by the employee of the month!” He rustles through the bags and produces a kid’s meal boxed toy, giving it to JungKook. “Here’s your Children’s Day gift!” JungKook pouts that he’s not a kid but seems pleased to receive a gift even though it’s a couple days early. HoSeok explains that he has to be at the children’s home on 5 May. NamJoon asks if they’re hosting an event that day. “It’s not really an event… I’m going to see the families,” says HoSeok. He plans to bring hamburgers and play with the kids rather than bring gifts. SeokJin is surprised to hear that almost twenty children, ranging from young kids to high schoolers, live at the home. “‘That’s more than I expected. It must be fun when everyone plays together.” HoSeok invites him to come along to take photos of everyone, and SeokJin agrees with a high-five. NamJoon declines because he’s too busy, and JungKook hesitates. HoSeok assures him not to feel pressured, causing SeokJin to reflect on how he has always been the “mood-maker” whose cheerful personality eases awkward situations and defuses disagreements. While lost in thought, he notices HoSeok taking out his medication. “How are you these days? Do you feel better?” NamJoon checks. “Hmm. I don’t have any symptoms, but I shouldn’t be skipping these.” A grim expression flashes across HoSeok’s face. SeokJin thinks, “It doesn’t mean he’s alright just because he smiles in front of people.” He guesses that HoSeok must feel scared of his condition, not knowing when he’ll collapse next. It’s not enough for SeokJin to prevent the accidents he can see or to stop HoSeok from getting injured—he must save him from the fear that isn’t visible. SeokJin resolves to find out what makes him collapse. Even if the condition isn’t curable, discovering the cause might help HoSeok get better.

On 5 May, SeokJin meets up with HoSeok at the children’s home, which is located near Yangji Stream. HoSeo looks happy and explains that visiting there is like coming home. They bring their respective gifts of hamburgers and snacks inside, and all the kids rush to HoSeok in excitement. One of the home’s staff greets them. HoSeok introduces her as Kim JungHee. He calls her “auntie” and regards her as someone who has been like a mother to him. As SeokJin helps her set the table with food, he thinks that the children’s home feels like an ordinary family home and HoSeok looks like the dependable older brother among all the kids. After taking all the requested pictures later, SeokJin joins HoSeok to watch the children play outside. “You’re on good terms with the kids,” he observes. “I’ve only been out of the children’s home about three months now, so I know them all,” HoSeok explains. (He moved into his rooftop room on 25 Feb Year 22 according to that date’s Note accompanying the Persona album.) SeokJin either comments, “Auntie seems like a great person. She treated me well and we’ve only just met,” or asks, “How old were you when you first came here?” In both paths, HoSeok speaks with visible adoration for Kim JungHee. In the first path, he mentions that although she’s scary when mad, she never gets angry without a reason. “Auntie JungHee is just… like a mom. She’s mom.” In the second path, HoSeok answers that he was seven when he moved into the children’s home. He describes how Auntie would sing him songs that his mother listened to instead of a lullaby when he had trouble falling asleep, and that was the first time he cried after coming to the home. SeokJin begins, “Then, HoSeok, when you were little…” But a boy’s cries interrupt him before he can ask if HoSeok experienced narcolepsy when he was younger. “What’s wrong, JiHun?” HoSeok asks in concern. The sobbing boy shows him a broken toy rocket. “My mom… gave this to me.” HoSeok is at a loss because it looks impossible to fix. “I’ll bring you a new one next time. Don’t cry, JiHun. Okay?” The boy keeps crying despite HoSeok’s attempts at consolation. Before SeokJin can think of another tactic, HoSeok speaks up, drying JiHun’s tears. “JiHun, do you want to go with me to see a real rocket?”

At HoSeok’s request, SeokJin drives them both to Yeongsan Bridge, one of the bridges that crosses Yangji Stream and that HoSeok frequents. SeokJin is perplexed about what could count as a “real rocket” as they head to HoSeok’s usual spot on the bridge, and JiHun appears suspicious but excited. “Look over there!” HoSeok points to the train departing Songju Station in the distance, picking up speed on the tracks. “Wow!” JiHun exclaims. “What do you think? That rocket looks cool, huh?” asks HoSeok. “Rocket? That’s a train,” says the boy. “Look closely! It’s a rocket.” HoSeok beams. JiHun asks HoSeok why he calls it a rocket. HoSeok explains that the front end of the train is pointy like a rocket and that it takes people somewhere far away. (He also refers to the trains as rockets in his 4 July Year 22 entry from The Notes 2.) SeokJin realizes that from his vantage point on the bridge, HoSeko has been watching the train that leaves Songju. “JiHun, you can wish on the rocket, too!” HoSeok describes how the rocket can carry dreams because the people who ride on it have dreams. JiHun wishes to become famous so his mom can find him. HoSeok falls silent for a moment before resuming his chatty demeanor. Together they wish on the rocket for JiHun to see his mom again. JiHun asks HoSeok what he wishes for so they can wish it on the next rocket. HoSeok whispers in his ear. “Wow, you too?!” JiHun exclaims. HoSeok shushes him, so SeokJin does not learn HoSeok’s answer.

After dropping JiHun off at the children’s home, SeokJin and HoSeok relax at a bar. HoSeok thanks him for his help that day. SeokJin asks if HoSeok visits Yeongsan Bridge frequently to look at the trains. HoSeok smiles bashfully over his drink and explains that he liked visiting it when he lived in the children’s home. “Is that when you came up with the rocket story?” SeokJin asks. HoSeok replies, ‘Yeah. The people getting on the train look so cheerful and happy. It almost makes me want to get on there with them, too.” He stops abruptly and calls out to a customer on his way out. The young man is introduced as DongJin, a friend who also grew up in the children’s home. SeokJin invites him to sit with them, hoping that he knows more about HoSeok, but DongJin declines since he’s with other company. Before departing, he mentions that he will stop by Two Star Burger to see HoSeok soon. After his friend leaves, HoSeok tells SeokJin more about his childhood. SeokJin understands why he considers the people at the children’s home his family.

A little tipsy now, HoSeok brings up another memory. The whole family at the children’s home goes to Yangji Stream on August 30th for the yearly fireworks, but when he was about nine, he had to be admitted to the hospital for a check-up. SeokJin either asks, “Did you miss the fireworks that year?” or “Were you sick?” In the first path, HoSeok describes how he snuck out of his hospital room and up to the rooftop to watch the fireworks. Along the way, he found a little kid crying in the stairwell who was looking for his mom and wanted to leave, and he brought the boy to the roof so they could view the fireworks together. He doesn’t know who the kid was or remember his face. (See the Additional Thoughts section at the end for who I hope this kid really was!) In the second path, HoSeok answers that he was falling asleep without explanation but the doctor said there was nothing particularly abnormal. SeokJin tries to ask a leading question to get him to reveal more, but HoSeok’s expression is grim. The paths rejoin with HoSeok asking SeokJin if he has attended the fireworks festival too. He looks wistful when SeokJin replies that he went with his family when he was younger. HoSeok brings up DongJin again. “He’s a really lucky guy. Even though it was pretty late, he got in touch with his parents and moved out to go live with them.” His eyes reflect bitterness. “DongJin and I… both dreamed of going to the fireworks festival with our parents. I guess he’ll achieve his dream for the first time this year.” SeokJin recalls HoSeok’s rocket story and asks if that’s the dream he told JiHun about earlier. HoSeok dismisses this: his dream now is to become famous for dancing. SeokJin remembers him mentioning this in high school. “Right, you said you wanted to become famous as a dancer so it would help you find your mom… Are you still dancing because of that?” HoSeok says that was why he first started but he grew to really love dance. “You don’t have any plans to go find your mom, then?” SeokJin asks. “Why would I go anywhere? My home, work, and friends are all here.” HoSeok laughs, but it seems like he is just holding on rather than truly feeling happy. “I just… like where I am.”

Episode four begins on 8 May, Parents’ Day, in HoSeok’s perspective. As promised, DongJin visits him at Two Star Burger and asks if he can get a job there because he needs money. HoSeok is taken aback since DongJin supposedly has moved out of Songju to live with his father after reconnecting with his family. “What happened to your self-reliance support fund?” DongJin confesses that he gave it all to his father, who said that he needed it to buy them a house but hasn’t contacted him since receiving the money. “I think my expectations were too high. They abandoned me once. Why wouldn’t they abandon me a second time? I wish I hadn’t met them…” DongJin’s voice wavers. HoSeok assures him that his father must be busy looking for houses. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll contact you soon. I’ll look into a job for you.” DongJin thanks him multiple times before leaving. After work, HoSeok returns to the bridge and leans on the railing. He often does this even when there are no passing trains—watching the flow of the river empties his mind and puts him at ease. But the calm water cannot still his thoughts today. He thinks about the many children at the home who want to be reunited with their parents, including JiHun, DongJin, and himself. HoSeok is honest about his feelings, acknowledging that he envies DongJin for being able to contact a parent, even one who let him down. He closes his eyes and remembers the day his mom abandoned him at the carousel. In the memory, she hands him a chocolate bar and instructs him to count to ten before opening his eyes. The screen goes black after “three,” and at “nine,” the player hears the sound of someone falling. (The carousel memory is also depicted in the Highlight Reel.)

The story cuts to the next day, 9 May, outside Two Star Burger. SeokJin is uneasy knowing that HoSeok collapsed yesterday, two days earlier than he normally does in the loops, and hovers nearby to keep an eye on him. HoSeok announces that he’s heading out for a delivery and heads outside to the delivery scooter. A passing woman reminds her daughter to count before crossing the street. “One, two, three…” HoSeok watches them cross the street and collapses again. “HoSeok!” SeokJin cries. He gets permission from the restaurant manager to take a still-unconscious HoSeok home to his room that overlooks all of Songju City. SeokJin helps HoSeok onto his bed before looking around his room. The player has a choice to look at the items on the desk or a familiar planter on the dresser. In the first path, SeokJin clicks past the screensaver on HoSeok’s laptop and sees that the web browser is open to an audition information video for a famous international dance team. (This may be the same dance team that one of his friends from the children’s home successfully auditions for, referenced in HoSeok’s 4 July Year 22 entry accompanying the Tear album and 7 July Year 22 entry in The Notes 1.) He remembers HoSeok mentioning that he’s happiest when dancing and knows that he still runs Just Dance, the dance club he started in high school. “I’m sure he’d do well if he applies,” SeokJin muses. In the second path, SeokJin recognizes the plant as the one HoSeok tended every day in their classroom hideout. He wonders what HoSeok was thinking when he brought the plant home and how he feels caring for it. The paths rejoin with HoSeok stirring on the bed, mumbling “Mmm… Mom… Don’t go…” SeokJin recalls that HoSeok called for his mother when he fell asleep in high school. “Is the memory of losing his mom related to his narcolepsy?” he thinks. “Are you okay, HoSeok?” SeokJin asks when HoSeok opens his eyes. HoSeok is confused to find himself at home. SeokJin explains that he happened to see him collapse as he was passing by and assures him that he spoke to his manager. “HoSeok, you know how you keep collapsing… The hospital doesn’t know why yet? You don’t have any idea what makes you collapse, either?” he presses. But HoSeok shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

On 10 May, HoSeok receives a call from one of the younger kids from the children’s home while getting ready for work in his apartment. The kid informs him that Auntie JungHee isn’t working at the home anymore because she has been diagnosed with late-stage colon cancer. She is scheduled to have surgery, but the chances of success are low. HoSeok’s mind goes blank, and he hangs up. When he rushes outside, he runs into SeokJin. “I stopped by because I was worried. Are you headed out?” asks SeokJin. Consumed with the thought of getting to Auntie, HoSeok says he needs to visit JungHee and doesn’t have time to ask why SeokJin is there. SeokJin follows, offering him a ride. The player chooses to have HoSeok either get in the car or refuse the ride. In the first path, HoSeok pretends to be calm when explaining the situation to SeokJin, but his voice noticeably trembles. In the second path, he declines because he’s afraid that speaking about it will make it come true, and then he runs to the bus stop.

The story cuts to HoSeok standing on the bridge, unable to remember how he made it to Auntie’s house after saying goodbye to SeokJin. He can only recall the face he saw through one of the open windows of Auntie’s house: JungHee laughing as she chatted with someone. The news of her illness and the low success rate of the surgery seems like a lie. She was the first person he could rely on after HoSeok lost his mom. He can’t shake off the vision of himself standing in front of the carousel “like an idiot.” Head spinning, he thinks, “I just wanted them to stay by my side. Is that too much to ask? What kind of terrible thing have I ever done?” The perspective switches to SeokJin as he watches HoSeok walk precariously across the bridge, looking both shocked and deeply sad. He reflects on his failed attempts to prevent HoSeok from collapsing here. Even if he stays with HoSeok like he did with JungKook or intervenes like he did with YoonGi, HoSeok always runs to JungHee’s home and then collapses on this bridge on his way back. SeokJin is aware that JungHee has cancer (so the first path of the branching choices has happened at least once, or he found out in earlier loops). The extra collapses of this loop weigh on SeokJin’s mind too. Something changed after HoSeok met DongJin, and SeokJin regrets taking him to the bar on 5 May. He looks on as HoSeok inevitably staggers and falls in the same spot.

SeokJin calls 119 and has HoSeok admitted to the hospital. As before, HoSeok is placed in the same hospital room of the surgery ward as JiMin. SeokJin decides not to visit him because he is afraid of running into JiMin and unsure of what will play out if he does. Now that HoSeok is in the hospital, there is no way to avoid the future accident in the stairwell. A few days later, SeokJin scopes out the scene. He mulls over the repeating scenario of HoSeok chasing down the stairs after a woman he mistakes for his mother. SeokJin connects the dots between HoSeok calling for his mother in his sleep and the way he cried in front of his Auntie’s house. “Everything has to do with ‘mom.’ If HoSeok’s narcolepsy is because of ‘mom,’ does that mean this accident is connected to the idea of mom, too?” In other loops in which SeokJin successfully prevented the stairwell accident, HoSeok continued to collapse more frequently until he eventually did so in the street. SeokJin contemplates how his condition apparently worsens after he sees a woman that reminds him of his mother.

The day after HoSeok is admitted to the hospital, 11 May, SeokJin invites NamJoon to meet him at a cart bar after his work shift. NamJoon brings up HoSeok first. Unable to say that he was the one to call for help, SeokJin pretends to be surprised that HoSeok is in the hospital. NamJoon reports that HoSeok had a minor concussion and is staying there for a couple days so the doctors can run additional tests. SeokJin wonders if HoSeok dreamt of his mother again and feels a pang at the image of him haunted by nightmares. He proceeds to tell NamJoon about their visit to the children’s home, meeting DongJin, and learning about the auntie’s illness. Cautiously, SeokJin proposes that HoSeok’s collapsing may be related to his mother. NamJoon mulls it over before agreeing. “I guess it could. Thinking about his auntie might have led him to think about his mom.” “I’m sure he feels like he’s losing his mother a second time,” SeokJin adds. NamJoon asks if he knows HoSeok’s wish to become a famous dancer in order to find his mom, although his dancing grew into a genuine source of joy. “So I thought… Dance had become Jung HoSeok’s cure. Something that helps him hold on. The thing that helps him bear something he can’t otherwise. That’s what dance is to HoSeok. Don’t you have something like that, SeokJin?” NamJoon regards him silently after this, leaving SeokJin much to contemplate. They promise to visit HoSeok together at the hospital. SeokJin hopes that if NamJoon knows just how much dancing means to HoSeok, he may figure out something from HoSeok’s reaction in the stairwell that SeokJin has missed. He just needs to figure out a natural way to get NamJoon into the stairwell at the right time.

On 12 May, SeokJin and NamJoon meet at the hospital. SeokJin suggests that they take the stairs since the elevators are crowded and lies about HoSeok being on the 3rd floor to strengthen his excuse. When they arrive on the 2nd floor landing, they hear footsteps and voices from above. The woman descending the stairs with a child is the one whom HoSeok keeps mistaking for his mother. SeokJin needs to stall until HoSeok comes down too, so he either suggests that they buy some snacks to bring or mentions that he may have got the wrong floor number and checks his phone. Moments later, they hear pounding footsteps and HoSeok shouting, “Mom!” NamJoon locks eyes with HoSeok and, unaware of what is about to happen, turns to follow the woman. “Ma’am! Excuse me!” Caught off guard, SeokJin is too late to grab HoSeok, who falls and screams. As he rolls on the floor clutching his leg, sealing the injury that will prevent him from dancing, the glass shatters.

SeokJin involves NamJoon in several more loops after that, but his attempts to save HoSeok end in failure. He wonders again if he should admit HoSeok to the hospital at all, but decides that if the incident is connected to HoSeok’s trauma, it needs to be solved rather than avoided. On a new 12 May, SeokJin stands near the hospital stairwell, prepared to intervene himself and ask HoSeok about his mother afterward. He spots JiMin emerging from the 2nd floor physical therapy room and pressing the elevator button. Hiding out of sight in the stairwell, SeokJin mulls over his options. If he prevents HoSeok’s accident, he still needs to get JiMin out of the hospital too—an effort that has been unsuccessful so far due to JiMin stopping at the exit or later having a seizure when they pass the arboretum. “Maybe the answer to HoSeok is… JiMin? What if… this incident is the variable between HoSeok and JiMin?” Heart pounding, SeokJin begins to hope that they can save each other. He doesn’t have enough time before HoSeok comes down the stairs to figure out what to say to JiMin and decides that he will just have to make the reason for his presence in the hospital believable. “JiMin!” he calls. “SeokJin? How are you here—” Looking shocked, JiMin steps back like he’s about to run away. SeokJin realizes that they haven’t met in this loop yet, and JiMin strongly dislikes people knowing that he’s in the hospital. With no time to explain, SeokJin leaves him behind and rushes into the stairwell. But he’s too late to catch HoSeok’s fall, and the story concludes with the glass shattering once again. (Based on The Notes 1, we know that the “successful” decision SeokJin makes in later loops is to stay out of sight when he calls JiMin. JiMin is puzzled by the silhouette he sees in the doorway and enters the stairwell just in time to catch HoSeok.)

Additional Thoughts

JiMin’s mother, Sim SeonMi, becomes one of the most fleshed-out adult characters in the BU narrative so far thanks to his story. We already knew the most about SeokJin’s father, Kim ChangJun, due to his role in The Notes 2. I’ve had an inkling of a suspicion that JiMin’s parents were connected in some way to SeokJin’s father, so I was satisfied to see this confirmed in the game. I’m curious about JiMin’s father and the lack of details surrounding him. He has only been depicted once in The Notes 1, when JiMin returned home days after sneaking out of the hospital with his friends.

Though it’s never explicitly stated in the texts, the Wings Short Film #6 MAMA depicts that HoSeok is diagnosed with Munchausen’s syndrome, a psychological disorder in which the individual pretends to be ill or deliberately produces symptoms of the illness. His prescription pills are actually placebos. On 16 May Year 22 in The Notes 1, HoSeok confesses to JiMin that his narcolepsy is fake, although he doesn’t feign symptoms on purpose.

I was personally a little disappointed with the lack of new information in HoSeok’s story. While his relationships with the auntie and other children from the home are explored in greater detail, the most significant plot points if his arc have already been covered as of The Notes 2.

I have no proof for this, but I want the unidentified crying boy who young HoSeok met in the hospital stairwell and brought to the rooftop to see the fireworks to be JiMin. If HoSeok was 9 at the time, then JiMin was 7. He has been in and out of the hospital since the arboretum incident (earlier that same year), so it is plausible that he had an overlapping stay with HoSeok in the summer of Year 11.

As mentioned above, the following “tl;dr” commentary summarizes the parenthetical notes I provided in the summaries in case you want to review them on their own.

Stopped Time — tl;dr commentary

In the opening cutscene, JiMin plays on the colored tiles in a hospital hallway and stops when he reaches “the line” by the exit door. This line marks the end of the psychiatric ward and is first described in his 11 May Year 22 entry in The Notes 1.

The Songho Foundation patron meeting that SeokJin attends on 22 April Year 22 was suggested by the city’s Deputy Mayor at the inauguration ceremony on 11 April. That earlier ceremony played out in JungKook’s arc.

Before the loop reset, SeokJin waits outside the Gyeong Il Hospital as he plans his next move since JiMin is moving out of the surgical ward that day. The date is unspecified in the game, but in The Notes 1, he is scheduled to return to the psychiatric ward on 16 May.

In this story, SeokJin picks TaeHyung to help him free JiMin from the hospital. He hopes that TaeHyung will be JiMin’s “answer,” just like YoonGi needed JungKook. JungKook saving YoonGi is not a solution that played out in YoonGi’s story, but this is a familiar theme from Notes 1 and forward. However, SeokJin and TaeHyung are caught by JiMin’s mother while trying to leave the hospital with him. We know from The Notes 1 that SeokJin’s later, successful choice ends up being HoSeok instead.

Before coldly leaving SeokJin and TaeHyung to rejoin her son, Sim SeonMi touches TaeHyung’s shoulder for a moment. This same gesture was given to HoSeok in the hospital after JiMin’s seizure at the bus stop on 15 September Year 20 in Notes 1. To SeokJin, her presence is like a wall separating them from JiMin. This echoes HoSeok’s feeling that she was drawing an uncrossable line between them that September.

At the end of the story, the vision JiMin sees reflected in the sink water of “that day” is referring to 6 April Year 11 and the events of the arboretum, first introduced in that dated entry in The Notes 1 and revealed in full on 12 August Year 22 of The Notes 2.

Someone Left Behind — tl;dr commentary

In the story’s opening, SeokJin refers to HoSeok’s collapse on 10 May. This is the date that HoSeok collapses and wakes up in the hospital in The Notes 1, and it is likely the moment referenced by his bridge scene in the I Need U MV.

When SeokJin observes that HoSeok is on good terms with the kids from the children’s home, HoSeok explains that he’s only been out of the home for about three months. He moved into his rooftop room on 25 Feb Year 22 according to that date’s Note accompanying the Persona album.

As he does in the game, HoSeok refers to the trains as “rockets” in his 4 July Year 22 entry from The Notes 2.

HoSeok’s memory of being abandoned at the carousel is also depicted in the Highlight Reel.

When searching HoSeok’s apartment, SeokJin notices the laptop’s web browser is open to an audition information video for a famous international dance team. This may be the same dance team that one of his friends from the children’s home successfully auditions for, referenced in HoSeok’s 4 July Year 22 entry accompanying the Tear album and 7 July Year 22 entry in The Notes 1.

At the end of the story, SeokJin hopes to gain JiMin’s help to save HoSeok but ends up spooking him because they haven’t met in that loop yet. Based on The Notes 1, we know that the “successful” decision SeokJin makes in later loops is to stay out of sight when he calls JiMin. JiMin is puzzled by the silhouette he sees in the doorway and enters the stairwell just in time to catch HoSeok.

Did you learn anything new from these stories that I did not specifically mention? Let me know in the replies or tags! Please stay tuned for part 4, featuring TaeHyung and the Epilogue.

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unholyobsessions · 4 years ago

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Little Miss Perfect

Chapter One

Pairing: Reggie x fem!Reader

Description: According to everyone around you, you’re perfect. When that perfection is threatened by a failing grade, your teacher assigns a once familiar person to tutor you. (1990s fic)

Warnings: cussing

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist

: Next Part>>

You have a reputation to uphold, have had to do so since you were a child. Your family is old money, traditional and proper in all aspects of life, and there is a certain way you were taught to act.

Always stand up straight. Never let anyone see you fumble. Walk with confidence. Always wear a smile. Dress properly, there’s always someone watching.

Be perfect.

And you are. Captain of the Cheerleading team, Junior Prom Queen, Straight As, loved by anyone and everyone. Guys want to date you and girls want to be you. You’ve never had to work for anything in your life.

Well, that last one is a lie.

Nobody knows what happens behind a closed door. No one knows the countless hours spent sitting on your desk, dozens of textbooks open around you and tears streaming down your face as you try to comprehend even the slightest bit of information. The ridiculously long amount of time spent in your dance studio choreographing and perfecting every cheer routine. The numerous weekends spent inside your bathroom learning how to get the perfect wing to your eyeliner and the perfectly natural shade of blush.

Having to keep up your reputation is hard, but you’ve never known anything else.

The sound of your heels clicking against the tile floor echoes throughout the school, announcing your presence to everyone in the vicinity. When you walk down the hallway, the crowd of people parts and a shimmer of guilt tugs at your heartstrings. You make it to your locker with no faults and a relieved sigh escapes your lips. You subtly tug down your skirt, feeling the hundreds of eyes on you. You fight to keep a natural smile on your face as you turn the combination of your locker. It doesn’t matter that your head is hidden by the locker door, the smile has to stay on or you would never hear the end of it from your parents.

The sound of your name being called snaps you out of your daze and you look up to see your best friend or well, whatever she was.

You grew up with Jane but you never really hung out with her until high school. Your parents are business partners so she made an acceptable presence by your side in the eyes of your parents. You don’t agree, she’s a bitch, but you still hang out with her because you’re told to do so. She’s perfectly perfect just like you, the only difference is that she actually enjoys the little bubble your families keep you in.

You roll your eyes as she immediately launches into a whispered rant about whoever dared look her in the eyes that morning. You grab your science textbook, enjoying the familiar weight that settles in your hands. Gripping the book tightly, you gently close the locker door, a large contrast from your peers, who slam it shut with their arm or shoulder absentmindedly.

You haven’t spoken a single word and Jane seems to either not notice or not care. As soon as you turn to her though, she shuts up. It confuses you a little, sure her parents were new money but that didn’t mean that you were above her. She acts sort of like a minion and you absolutely despise it but you go through with it blindly, as you do with everything.

You start walking to your class nodding your head at Jane, a signal to remind her to smile. She does and you hope yours does not look as forced as hers does.

The day goes by smoothly, lunch having been spent with the cheer squad. The smile is genuine but you only nod along to their conversation and give short replies. It’s not a rare occurrence for you to get quiet every once in a while. And when the bell rings and they all go back to class, you meet Jane by the cafeteria doors. You go your separate ways when you get to her classroom, AP Biology, and you keep walking until you reach yours, AP Calculus.

You sit stiff on the uncomfortable desk, a pencil gripped tightly in your hand. Your teacher starts the class by passing out the tests you took yesterday. You take a deep breath, hoping that the horrible feeling you had after you turned it in was wrong and that you actually did extremely well. After what feels like an eternity she finally gets to your row and sets the test down on your desk.

Your eyes widen at the paper in front of you. This can’t be right. You don’t fail, you can’t. You know math is not your strong suit and you have been struggling the past few lessons (derivatives are hard to understand, okay?) but you never expected to see the bright red F on the corner of the page. The teacher gives you a look and you know exactly what is means. Meet me after class.

At the sound of the bell, everyone rushes to get their stuff together but you take your time, waiting for everyone to exit the classroom before making your way to your teacher’s desk. You stare at the floor, unable to make eye contact with her.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve struggled in my class y/n,” you flinch at the disappointed tone, blinking away the tears welling up in your eyes. The voice of your mom echoes in your head, Don’t show weakness.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, finally looking up. “It won’t happen again.”

“You said that last time.” When you refuse to answer she sighs. “Look I know what you go through to keep an A in this class but it’s okay to need a little help sometimes.”

This time you do answer. “I don’t need help, I never have. I’ll study more and do better next time.”

“Actually I’ve already recruited a student to help you.” Your eyes widen and your start to shake your head. “He’s one of my best students and he has agreed to tutor you a few times a week.”

“Who?” As if you invoked him by asking, the door opens. You look to your side and your breath hitches when you see who it is.

The Sinclairs are old money, go farther back than your family if you’re correct. Growing up, Reginald and you were thick as thieves. You took the same etiquette classes, had the same music instructor, had to follow the same set of rules. It was comforting, having someone who knew exactly what it’s like to live your life. But the guy standing in front of you is only a shadow of the boy you once knew.

This isn’t Reginald who would come to your parent’s fancy rich people parties, wearing an uncomfortable looking suit. Reginald who drank tea at twelve and never slouched. Reginald who is classically trained in music and would never be caught dead in anything other than black polished oxfords and a crisp button down tucked neatly into a pair of slacks.

This is Reggie who wears thrifted flannels, leather jackets, torn black jeans and worn out vans. Reggie who was kicked out and disowned for playing bass and joining a rock band. Reggie who owns a fake ID and spends his weekends playing clubs. Reggie who you haven’t spoken to since the summer before high school, when it became dangerous to associate with the likes of him.

But apparently Reggie is just as smart as Reginald and is still a math genius. Maybe shadow is not the correct word. Because Reggie shines brighter than he ever did before.

You gape at him and he looks just as surprised. Most likely not expecting you to be the person he is assigned to tutor.

“Reggie, perfect timing. I assume you know miss l/n,” your teacher breaks the silence.

Not looking away from you, Reggie answers, “Vaguely.”

You gulp and look away from him, opting to stare at the wall.

Sensing the tension the teacher clears her throat. “Well I’ll leave you guys to set up a schedule, I have a meeting to get to.”

Neither of you move as she gathers her stuff and leaves the classroom. The room is filled with an uncomfortable silence as soon as the door shuts leaving you both staring awkwardly at each other.

“You don’t have to tutor me. It’s fine really,” you say, fiddling with the rings around your fingers, a nervous habit you’ve never been able to break.

“Don’t be dumb l/n. It’s no trouble.” The words leave Reggie’s lips effortlessly, not worried about saying the wrong thing, not even thinking before speaking and it’s hard to ignore the small strike of jealousy. “How about we meet Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays at three?”

“I can’t Mondays and Wednesdays. I have cheer practice,” You say, confidence making its way back to your voice, his relaxed composure and vaguely familiar presence easing your nerves.

Reggie shrugs. “Miss it.”

“I can’t miss it Reginald, I’m captain.” You deadpan, already tired of this conversation. If it were anyone else, you would have fought to keep a smile on your face, to sound as polite as you possibly could, but being in Reggie’s presence made your walls shake, even if it was just a little bit.

“First off, it’s Reggie. Second those are the only days I can meet.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and leans back against the wall.

“Can we meet at four thirty?” You try to negotiate.

“I have band practice.”

“Miss it.” You don’t know what takes over you causing you to say something like that. You’re not sarcastic, you’re polite. You’re not sassy, you’re proper. Reggie raises his eyebrows and it looks like he’s trying not to laugh. You can practically feel the glare your parents would have given you and it terrifies you, causing you to rush out an apology. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as rude. I’ll move cheer practice to four thirty. We can meet at three.” You stand up straighter and your nails dig into your palms, the slight pain serving as a small punishment for your ludicrous behavior.

The amusement leaves Reggie’s eyes and he nods his head, eyes glancing down at your hands. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought there was worry in his gaze. “Cool. Meet me at the library tomorrow. I would say don’t be late but I know you’re physically incapable of it.”

And just like that, he leaves. You stand there for a minute, shocked, confused, and slightly dazed. Taking a moment to process the interaction you realize, your parents can never find out about this.

This was supposed to go up later but i’m too impatient. Hope you like it and let me know if you want to get tagged on future chapters :))

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones #jatp #jatp fanfiction #jatp fanfic #sunset curve #reggie x reader #reggie jatp #jatp reggie #reggie julie and the phantoms #reggie x y/n #reggie x oc #luke patterson #alex jatp #jatp bobby

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greenbriar-j · 3 years ago

Text

5 times the prince crashed the bookstore

and the 1 time the owner(’s grandson) broke into the palace

One.

The first time was an accident. Sort of. Not really.

Prince Gabriel did need to buy new ink and maybe a new journal to replace the one Gunther accidentally threw into the fountain the last time Gabe escaped the palace. If he was so pressed, though, he could’ve asked one of his attendants to buy it for him.

So, yeah, it was kind of an accident. Gabriel donned his “commoner” attire, hiding his immediately recognizable curls under a cap. The clothes he wore were bland, but he had the kind of figure that made every outfit stand out. He snuck out through the window, running to the bookstore to get as much time away from his princely duties as possible.

It was so boring, all of it. The paperwork, the meetings, the girls.

Full confession: Prince Gabriel loved girls. Adored them. Thought they were the neatest thing to be placed on the planet. He loved the neighboring princesses, their mother queens, the female attendants – he loved women. He could not for a second imagine kissing any of them.

Kissing Gunther? That, he’d imagined several times before the guard had caught on and assigned him even more paperwork. Fucking Gunther.

Not, Gabe grimaced, pushing open the door to the bookstore, fucking Gunther. Stop thinking about fucking Gunther. About fucking. In general. … You’re a disgrace of a prince. At least you’re not responsible for producing an heir.

Because he was the second prince. Because he was responsible for many things, actually, while also not being responsible for a thing at all.

“Welcome to Vanilla Pages, how can I help you today?”

The prince’s head whipped to the sound of the voice. It was not the voice he expected to hear, the almost frail, ever-loving voice of the old Asian lady who’d always been here the last few times he came. This voice was rich, masculine, deep – and, oh, the prince was very, very gay for it.

“Uh,” he said intelligently. “You’re new.”

The man smiled at him. “I’m not. I’ve worked here every summer since I was ten. Granny gets a little faint in the summer. The heat and all.” A beautiful hand waved in a beautiful, dismissive gesture.

Gabe had one thought, and it was this: He himself was feeling a little faint this summer. Somehow, behind the broad shoulders filling out the loose shirt, the scruffy ponytail, the calm yet twinkling eyes, the man was undoubtedly a big teddy bear. “Ah,” he said, again the pinnacle of intelligence towering over his whole kingdom. “What’s your name?”

“It’s impolite to ask for someone’s name without giving yours first,” the man prompts. “Your Highness.”

Your-? “The disguise is that bad?”

“If I say so, will it end in a death sentence?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. That smile is unfair. What the fuck. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

“Then yes, it sucks. The name’s Phuong.”

“Oh, word? Good name.” I did not just say that. Who responds to introductions with oh, word?

Gabe could not stand to make any more of a scene. This was fun. It was also very embarrassing. He grabbed a journal without really examining it, checking out and running across the street to the bakery.

Gunther picked him up there after his own round of flirting with the baker’s daughter. There would probably be a wedding soon. Depending. The guard seemed surprised that the prince turned up on his own, but the prince thought nothing of it. He thought nothing at all.

Not about the name Phuong.

Not about those broad shoulders and muscular arms left on full display. The wide, toothy grin.

Not anything at all.

Two.

The second time was a detour.

“Gabe, I mean this in the most respectful way, but if you do not finish writing a birthday card to the prince of [other kingdom, idk], we will be having a war council within the month.”

“Gunther, he can’t even read. Why does it matter?” Tossing his head back and stretching his legs out, he acted like the brat he only was for Gunther.

The guard delivered a withering glare without adjusting his rigid stance. Even the prince has to admit that Gunther seemed to be experiencing physical repercussions for his job. In just a month, the prince had aged his friend by a year, or so it seemed.

Reluctantly, Gabe held in every protest dangling on the edge of his tongue and penned a birthday note to the two year old prince. “We have to deliver this in person?”

“Yes.”

Gabe groaned. He could not think of a prospect he hated more. In a month, he had not managed to gather enough poise to revisit his beloved Phuong at the bookstore. He merely whimpered the name in his sleep, according to an unusually smug Gunter. And now, to be separated by this meaningless trek?

“To the post, Gabe. Not to [neighboring kingdom].”

Ever the model prince, Gabriel drew himself upright immediately. “The post, you say,” he repeated regally. “The one three streets away from the bookstore.”

“That’s the one.” His guard, his best friend, smiled tightly. “I intend to propose along the way, and your stringing this out is not helping my nerves.”

His royal eyes wider than saucers, Gabe ruffled all of his curls in distress and excitement. “Propose! Why didn’t you say so, you big baboon?”

“You were sulking, Highness.” Gunther’s smile is wry, only a little amused.

“I most certainly was not. Agh, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”

In his rush, he sustained more injury to his hands that day than he had in the past year.

“So…” Phuong glanced at Gabe’s hands, a quick flicker of dark brown eyes. “What happened to your hands?”

Prince Gabriel hid the offending bandaged digits behind his back. “A mishap while writing the world’s most useless letter.”

“Oh?”

“Its recipient can’t even read. OH!” Without thinking, Gabe grabbed at Phuong’s shirt, tugging in his hasty excitement. “He’s doing it, he’s-!”

He turned, only to find his face alarmingly close to Phuong’s. Why was the other man looking at him anyway? Did it matter?

The moment was broken too soon by a holler across the street. “GABE! SHE SAID YES!”

“OF COURSE SHE DID, YOU BABOON!” He fired back, pretending not to feel the heat rising inside him from the sudden close proximity. “He’s going to look so hot at his wedding,” Gabe muttered dreamily, still clinging with bandaged fingertips to Phuong’s shirt.

“I have something for you,” Phuong said suddenly. “I wasn’t sure when you would come back, but I have something.”

It was the best news the prince had heard all day. Seeing Phuong while getting his work done and receiving a gift? Only the gods could provide such a setup.

He was right, for once, that it was too good to be true. Phuong deposited a box of fanmail in the prince’s arms and turned away without a word.

Three.

The third time was a disaster.

“Did you read them?” Phuong asked after the initial pleasantries had been exchanged.

“The letters?” Gabe leaned on the counter. “Burned them.” He grinned, but back-pedaled when the joke falls flat.

Phuong swallowed, then busied himself wiping down the counter. “You burned them?”

“If I read every piece of fanmail I ever got, I wouldn’t survive, Phuong.”

“I see. I suppose- No, never mind.”

While he hadn’t burned them, Gabe hadn’t read them either. He had no reason to read confessions of love from women who didn’t stand a chance with him because 1) he didn’t like women like that and 2) he only had a certain pool of suitors to choose from. This thing he was perpetuating with Phuong… It would burn him eventually. But Phuong was still very, very hot, and Gabe was still very, very gay.

There was no promise of reciprocated anything from the clerk. He was simply doing his job, and Gabe was just a guy that came in a little too often for a little too long. That was all.

“What’s this about, then? Was there one I should have read? Is it from your sister?”

“I don’t have a sister.”

“Your cousin?”

“Your Highness,” Phuong looks at him, finally. Gabe doesn’t enjoy it, though. Not the way the address comes out so clinical, so distant. “All the letters had the same handwriting. My handwriting.”

The prince’s throat goes dry. “What?” He whispers.

“I’m closing the shop early today,” the other man responds in that same distant voice. “You’ll need to leave, Your Highness.”

Stunned, Gabe returns to the palace.

Each of the letters is one sentence long.

I hope this finds you well, Your Highness.

The stars in your eyes shine brighter than mine, yet belong to the same single sky.

You’re a brat.

Gunther came to the bakery today; I’m strangely disappointed by your absence.

A heartless one, you turned out to be.

The stars in your eyes shine on different continents than mine, it seems.

Foolish of me to write letters to someone I’ve only met once.

Why do I think of you so often, my most hated daydream?

There’s one for every day of the month Gabe avoided Vanilla Pages.

“Gunther?” He calls into the air. A maid scurries in instead, apologizing for the absence of his guard, a different guard trailing in behind her. “It’s fine. Will you bring me some alcohol?”

Four.

The fourth time was a mistake.

The very same night, a very drunk Gabe stumbled through the streets. It would be a prime night for assassination, if anyone wanted to put him out of his misery. A shame that no one did.

Mindless feet guided him back to the bookstore. Fruitlessly, he banged on the shut and bolted door.

An angry Gunther dragged him home, and Phuong was never the wiser.

Five.

The fifth time was purposeful.

“Your engagement was decided today.”

Hollow-eyed, Prince Gabriel blinked at the captain of his guard – a married man now. The wedding had been beautiful. As expected. “My what?”

“Your engagement, Highness. She’s a very pretty woman, if it’s any consolation.”

“It’s not.”

“Phuong is also in very bad shape, if it’s any consolation. Rea said so.”

“It’s not.” The words came muffled by the pair of hands covering the prince’s face. It was enough that he felt bad about everything. There was really no reason both of them should feel awful. “Gunther, clear my schedule for the next hour. I’m going to the bookstore.”

“You’re engaged now.”

“I’m aware. Betrothed men ought to tell other suitors when they’re off the market.”

The intention is clear, and Gunther seems upset. Unreasonably so. “Your Highness-”

“I have to, Gunther. I’m going to make him hate me so he can move on faster.”

“But you-”

“I always knew how this would end. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

He was anything but okay. He was gay and in love and engaged to a beautiful woman who deserved the kind of love he could never give her because he was gay and desperately in love with someone else.

Each solemn step of the way, he bid farewell to each part of the man he had inexplicably grown to love. Goodbye, beautiful hair. Goodbye, kind heart. Goodbye, brown eyes. Goodbye, biceps; goodbye, thighs. Goodbye, hands. Goodbye, stupid love letters.

He walked in, announced his engagement to the ground, and fled before he could see the other man’s reaction.

One.

Phuong considered his life in chapters.

They were typically large, vague categories of his life that were boring and tedious to live through. Childhood. Teenage years. Adulthood. Gabe. It was only this latest chapter that made any difference in anything he thought.

Before Gabe, life was dull. Every day, the same. After him, every day was painful – but the good kind of painful that perhaps would lead to something. The second prince bore the name of the messenger of the lord, and that had to count for something, didn’t it?

Apparently not. For Gabe to cut him off so quickly… If he had hoped to give Phuong any kind of conclusion about what they were and what they meant to each other, he failed spectacularly.

After milling around Rea’s bakery for half the day, he finally called in his favor. “Rea, can I… Uhm…”

“If you wait until sundown, Gunther will come home for dinner, and he can take you straight to the brat himself,” she replied before he finished the thought. “Just tell him how you feel, and if it goes bad, you can have free cakes for a week.”

“I’ll get fat and unattractive.”

“Honey,” she said in that pitying tone he’d so hoped to avoid.

“Can I… Have a free cake now?”

Prince Gabriel and Gabe were very different people, and while Phuong had known this, it didn’t really dawn on him until he saw it with his own two eyes.

Gabe – his Gabe – smiled and laughed at everything, had horrible posture because he was always trying to get that tiny bit closer to Phuong, and dressed horribly because he thought it’d work as a disguise.

Prince Gabriel wore tailored clothes that made Phuong a little dizzy because of how they accentuated a man who didn’t need accentuating at all. Prince Gabriel spoke with authority and walked with it, too. He oozed it.

Phuong didn’t know if this made his job any easier.

The moment the door shut behind him, the prince groaned and stretched and stripped off his clothes from the day. He flopped face-first on the bed like a child and immediately called for the captain of his guard.

“Is it okay that I’m here instead?” Phuong said softly.

Unexpectedly, the prince jumped ten feet in the air. “Phuong?”

A complicated series of expressions crossed the prince’s face. He looked like he wanted to be upset, but couldn’t, and in the end, he started to cry, reaching for Phuong with grabby hands and a bleeding heart. What a foolish prince, to wound himself like this, when he really didn’t need to be wounded at all.

“Your eyes shine with stars that are different from mine, but they share the same sky,” Phuong murmured, climbing into the prince’s bed and pulling him into a clumsy embrace. “If you had read that, I thought you’d have understood.”

“It’s not the same as telling me upfront. I can’t bank my decisions on I think.”

“I know.”

And the prince only cried more. This was all his heart had ever wanted, but it still didn’t tell his mind what to do. Could he afford to forfeit his engagement? Would he have to forfeit Phuong again, knowing what he knew now?

He didn’t know. He didn’t care yet. It was hard to care with Phuong’s finger sliding through his curls, with feathery touches of lips to his forehead.

“Gabe.”

“Hm?”

“I really, really like you. But I get it if you still have to let me go.”

Gabe tightened his arms around Phuong. “I won’t. I don’t want to.”

“Okay.”

Spoiler alert: I have no idea how to actually end this but I believe they figure out their way to get together and live happily ever after bc that was the whole point of this but I really can’t be bothered to write it out whoops

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itachi-uchiha-deserved-better · 3 years ago

Text

There were seven of them gathered in the tent that was serving as the temporary council chamber while the leaf village was being rebuilt. Kakashi sat at the head of the circular table, looking uncomfortable in the position of authority that had been thrust upon him in Tsunade’s absence. Next to Kakashi on his left was Shikaku Nara, with Shikamaru seated next to his father. On Kakashi’s right side sat Gai, Yamato, Naruto and then finally there was Sakura, sitting opposite Kakashi, wondering when in the hell she had become important enough to warrant an explicit invitation to a council meeting.

The elders, Sakura noted, were not in attendance. Kakashi had placed both of them under guard since Danzo’s treachery at the five Kage summit came to light. It didn’t really come as much of a surprise to Sakura that the Jonin of the village were hesitant to trust them with matters of importance.

Kakashi fiddled with his pen, as he seemed to search for the best way to approach whatever it was that was important enough for him to call a council meeting in the first place. He kept shooting Yamato glances, which Yamato always answered with a quirked eyebrow or a shake of the head, like there was a silent discussion going on between them. Sakura watched the exchange with fascination as she doodled on the note pad in front of her.

“Fine.” Kakashi growled, ending whatever argument he and Yamato were apparently having, “I guess we ought to just get on with it.” He took a breath, put the pen down very carefully, so that it was sitting perfectly straight in front of him. He swept his gaze around the room, locking eyes with each person who sat at the table in turn.

“You know I’m not the type to do things as officially as they should be done. Were it not for the delicate nature of this matter, I’d have left it for Tsunade to deal with when she recovers. Unfortunately, this is a matter that won’t wait until our Hokage is back on her feet.”

The air in the room seemed to grow still and heavy with tension. Everyone seemed to pick up on the carefully chosen words Kakashi used. Our Hokage. Not him. He had no desire to lead them. When Tsunade wakes up. Because none of them wanted to consider the other outcome.

“As you know, Yamato and I were present for the majority of the 5 Kage summit. I believe everyone here has read our reports regarding the proceedings of the summit and Danzo’s attempt at treason. That is not what we are here to discuss. This meeting is in regards to what happened before our arrival at the summit location. About information intentionally withheld from the official reports.”

Sakura observed the room. A large part of her medical training had focused on sharpening her observational skills. Teaching her to pick up on subtle changes around her, so that she can make decisions with the most information possible. So her keen gaze immediately picks up on the way that Shikaku straightened up in his chair as Kakashi admits to withholding information from the official documentation of their mission. She notes how Shikamaru’s gaze snaps to Naruto’s face, then to hers, trying to read the situation the same way that she was. She can almost visualize tangible waves of tension rolling off of Yamato and the worried look that Gai is giving her Sensei. It seemed that he had at least some inkling of what was going on.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure that this information should be shared with anyone. The source is questionable, but Yamato and I agree that given the potential ramifications for the village if the information we’ve been given is accurate, that at least the people in this room need to be aware of it.”

More glances shot around the table. Naruto at Sakura. Sakura at Yamato. Yamato and Gai at Kakashi. Shikaku and Shikamaru at all of them. The silence in the room swelled until Shikaku quietly prompted Kakashi, “please continue.”

“Itachi Uchiha.”

The name sent a shockwave through the room. White hot anger flared in Sakura. Itachi. Sasuke’s older brother. The shinobi who had murdered his entire clan in cold blood, who had tried to kidnap Naruto, who was directly involved with the organization that had killed Gaara, that had destroyed Konoha and caused so much pain to the person that she loved. Even if he didn’t love her back, Sakura could never forgive Itachi for the pain he inflicted on Sasuke.

Naruto was shrinking in his seat, like the name was a heavy weight descending on his shoulders. Shikaku and Shikamaru were both now sitting straight backed in their seats, giving Kakashi their undivided attention. Only Yamato and Gai remained impassive.

“What about the Uchiha?” Shikaku asked as the impact of the name started to settle.

“It seems that there is much more to Itachi’s actions than the village was initially lead to believe. Our information indicates that Itachi held no grudge against his clan. That his crimes, while heinous, were carried out under direct order from village leaders.”

Shikamaru laughed, the sound breaking through the tension like a paper bomb exploding in Sakura’s ears, “You must be joking. You can’t honestly believe that Lord Third would have allowed-“

Shikaku grabbed Shikamaru’s arm, and shooting him a sharp look to silence him.

Kakashi sighed, “I understand your skepticism. Like I said, Yamato and I don’t trust the source of our information, but given Danzo’s treachery and how long that was allowed to go on unnoticed, I don’t think we can dismiss anything outright. By the same token, none of this is to leave this tent. Until we are able to verify or disprove the claim, I want to keep this thing quiet.”

Shikamaru huffed, but Shikaku nodded thoughtfully, “Kakashi, you were his Anbu captain at one point. You probably know the most about Itachi of anyone present. Do you believe it’s possible that he was manipulated into massacring his clansmen?”

Sakura expected Kakashi to answer immediately. The entire thought of the village ordering a man to kill his entire clan was ludicrous.

Wasn’t it?

But Kakashi didn’t answer. One minute passed in silence and still Kakashi was sitting there, glaring down at his pen, unable to answer Shikaku’s question. It was Yamato who eventually spoke up.

“I served alongside Itachi on team Ro. Speaking frankly, I could never wrap my head around it. The Itachi I knew wasn’t capable of harboring that much hatred. Even with the proof right in front of our eyes, I couldn’t make sense of it.”

Sakura breathed in a sharp breath of surprise. Neither Kakashi or Yamato ever really spoke about their Anbu days, so she had been completely ignorant of the fact that they’d both been on a team with Itachi, much less been friends with him.

Did Sasuke know?

Kakashi nodded his head, “I agree with Yamato, Itachi Uchiha’s actions never made sense to me. I accepted that I must have missed the signs back then and once everything was said and done, I tried my best not to think about it. About him. He was my teammate, and I had failed him. But if this is true, then I failed him even worse than I ever could have believed.” Kakashi hung his head and Sakura could see how much this pained him. She could only imagine what he felt, having this ghost of his past being dragged back up to the surface, especially after so much recent pain and loss.

“Regardless of my and Yamato’s personal feelings about the man, there are other factors which lead us to believe that at least parts of the information we were given are true. Danzo did possess a number of Sharingan, including an eye that we can confirm belonged to Shisui Uchiha, who supposedly committed suicide by the Naka. Itachi was, at the time, suspected of murdering his cousin.”

Another pause, as Kakashi allowed the information to sink in. Shikaku was nodding his head in recognition of the name. Shikamaru was studying his father closely. Sakura could hear Naruto grinding his teeth in frustration.

“Alright,” Shikaku tapped his finger on the table, “Lets have it then. The whole story.”

Kakashi obliged, and slowly the story came out, with Yamato jumping in when it seemed that Kakashi was struggling to find the right words. About the plan for a coup d'etat that had been brewing within the Uchiha clan. The orders to spy on the Uchiha, to monitor them for signs of rebellion. Itachi’s assignment to team Ro, and his early promotion to captain under Danzo. About the death of a man named Shisui, who according to this had thrown himself off a cliff only after Danzo had stolen one of his eyes. The coup coming to a head, and Hiruzen asking Itachi to buy time to find a better solution than annihilation, and Itachi being approached later by Danzo, with a promise- that Itachi could ensure his little brother’s survival if he singlehandedly stopped the coup. The implication that if Itachi refused, Danzo would ensure the clan’s destruction, Sasuke and Itachi included.

The clan’s lives for Sasuke’s life. That was the deal that was put forth. And Itachi had accepted.

But it was the final bit of the story that chilled Sakura to her core.

“Hiruzen was aware of Itachi’s orders. While he may not have issued them himself, if our source is to be believed, he also made no effort to intervene. Its true that the Uchiha massacre solved the problem of the coup d'etat once and for all. But the only way it ended without anyone losing faith in Hiruzen was for Itachi to shoulder the blame. If he’d remained in the leaf village, Hiruzen would have been forced to punish him for the massacre. So instead, Hiruzen let Itachi leave the village, left the barrier jutsu formula intact so that Itachi could come and go as long as he remained hidden, and Itachi decided to join the Akatsuki. Not as a missing-nin, but as Konoha’s spy.”

Shikaku hummed, nodding his head, “I never was able to come up with a good reason why Hiruzen left the barrier jutsu formula alone. I assumed he believed that Itachi must not have any more reason to target the leaf, but even then when word came that Itachi had joined the Akatsuki, he ought to have changed it.”

“Right,” Kakashi was rubbing at his temple, probably fighting off a headache. He’d had a number of those since his brush with death at the hands of Pein.

“There are piece that add up. The barrier formula. The fact that the leaf village always had more intelligence on the Akatsuki and their movements than the other villages did. Danzo’s possession of the Uchiha eyes, Shisui’s eye especially. But there are also pieces I cant explain. Like why that bastard locked me in a seventy two hour genjutsu that almost killed me. And the only person who could confirm any of this, as far as I know, has been dead for three years.”

Gai said something in response to that, but Sakura had stopped listening, their voices fading to the background as something started to click in her head.

Konoha��s spy.

Had to stay hidden.

Could come and go as he pleased.

Her mind was spinning. Recalling strange orders issued by Tsunade. Treating a shinobi outside the hospital. Not allowed to use her healing chakra at all, only basic medical skills. The threat of being stripped of her rank as a shinobi if she disobeyed. A strange Anbu who never spoke. Who suppressed his chakra at all times. Who had eerily familiar eyes that always seemed to be filled with something she could never hope to understand.

“Sakura? Sakura are you alright?” Naruto’s hand was on her shoulder, shaking her gently. Tenzo and Kakashi were both watching her with concern, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The name. Recognition like a bolt of lightning struck her and Sakura stood up so quickly that she sent her chair flying back with a crash.

She felt like she was going to explode. Every eye in the tent was on her, waiting for some kind of explanation for her sudden reaction. How on earth could she not have put it together earlier? Then again, she’d never been given any reason to suspect that Ghost, the strange anbu operative in the blank mask was Sasuke’s older brother.

Tsunade. Tsunade must have known. Her orders were to protect Ghost’s identity, because if Sakura had felt his chakra, even for an instant, she would have recognized the similarities to Sasuke’s, and there was only one other Uchiha left in the world. So many thoughts were crashing around inside Sakura’s mind. Anger. Anger at Ghost…Itachi…for lying to her, even if he had no other choice. It wasn’t like she would have ever helped him before if she knew who he was. She’d have been the first person to turn him in, no matter how much kindness he’d shown her. Anger at Tsunade, for allowing the farce to continue, despite knowing that Itachi had made the only choice he could have. Anger that Hiruzen, for failing to intervene and stop all the pain that the massacre caused. For Sasuke, and for Itachi.

Her eyes met Kakashi’s steady gaze. Her sensei, always so adept at reading what troubled her, waited patiently for her mouth to catch up to her mind.

“You knew?”

“No.” Not a lie. She hadn’t known, “But I’m pretty sure this is the truth. I…” gods above how did she even begin to explain it all? To explain about Ghost, his strange behavior, the bizarre connection they shared.

Tenzo was her saving grace. He seemed to have put some of the pieces together himself.

“The Anbu? The one you told me about?”

Sakura nodded and sank back down into her chair, hugging her arms into herself. The eyes of the group moved off of Sakura, looking to Tenzo for more information.

“Earlier this year, Sakura confided in me about a patient of hers. She wanted to know if I was aware of an Anbu agent whose mask was blank, no markings at all. She told me that Tsunade had asked her to treat him and that the arrangement came with some unusual orders which had her uncomfortable.”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, “Are you referring to-“ Kakashi cut off, but Tenzo nodded, clearly understanding the question. Shikamaru grumbled.

“Care to explain for those of us who can’t read your mind?”

“Ghost,” Tenzo shot back, “It’s a…well for lack of better terms, it’s a ghost story that exists among the Anbu. A few years back a few genin claimed they were saved by an Anbu agent in a blank white mask, who slaughtered the enemy shinobi who were attacking them and then disappeared without a trace. No one believed them, but since then all kinds of stories about the faceless mask have popped up. Most of them are incredibly far fetched, but there are elements that remain consistent throughout. Black hair. Always alone. Never leaves any survivors except for leaf shinobi. Only fights with Kunai and a tanto, never jutsu. At least, none that anyone ever sees. I didn’t think anything of it, but when Sakura mentioned her patient to me, I did some digging. There is a file for an Anbu agent, codename Ghost, but there’s no serial number on the file, and everything in it was encoded.”

Kakashi sighed, “It’s not proof, but that seems pretty damning.” Apparently Kakashi didn’t have any better explanation that Sakura did.

“In that case, there are a few things to address. First and foremost, it is very likely that Sasuke has also been made aware of the fact that his brother acted under orders. I don’t think he knows about Itachi’s identity as an Anbu operative, but we need to be prepared because I’m not sure what kind of effect this information will have on him. The last I knew, Sasuke’s sole focus was on killing his brother for revenge. It’s quite possible that his desire for revenge will shift to target the village, or at least those he feels most responsible for Itachi’s actions.”

Everyone in the tent nodded their agreement.

“The second question is one of what to do about Itachi himself.”

This time no one nodded. It was a momentous question.

“Are you sure we need to do anything at all?” Shikaku asked, trying to be as gentle with the question as possible. Tenzo slammed his hand down on the table and looked like he wanted to throw himself at Shikaku.

“Of course we have to do something! He’s a leaf shinobi! He’s put his life in danger for the past nine years, alone, hated by everyone in order to protect the village. He deserves to know that he isn’t being held responsible for being forced to make an impossible choice when he was thirteen fucking years old!”

“Easy, Tenzo,” Kakashi seemed to be doing his best to keep his tone level, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him while they sorted things out, “You know that I want to see him again as much as you do, as a friend. But we need to consider what’s best for the village. At the least, I don’t think we need to come to a decision right now. Our first priority is to rebuild the village itself. When Tsunade wakes up, I’m sure she’ll have something to say on the matter.”

Sakura clenched her fist and felt her chakra start flowing into them out of instinct. You better believe that she’ll have something to say. I’ll make sure of it.

She pushed herself up from the table. She needed to hit something. Needed to break something. And if she didn’t leave now, she couldn’t be sure what exactly it was she was going to break. Better safe than sorry.

“Sakura? Going somewhere?”

“For a walk,” She hissed, daring anyone to try and stop her as she stormed out of the tent.

#Hey look guys #I found some muse #When did I start writing Sakura?#Actually I do like writing her POV #Ghost AU #Itachi #Itachi's secret is out!#Not sure if this will be divergent from my Ghost in the Leave Fic or if I'll include this as a chapter

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poutyhannie · 4 years ago

Photo

word count: +4k

warnings: fluff, angst, smut, college!fem reader, college!felix, romantic fantasy

** **

You gaze down at the materializing letters stretching across your palm till your elbow. It was a mixture of Korean and English. The Korean characters were few and far in between but were delicate and even while the English letters were long, messy, and leaned to the right.

I’ll need to turn in Prof Behl’s assignment when I go to class and then explain why I can’t go to the museum research trip.

Did I use all my meal swipes? Chris said he wanted to workout at 3…

These notes would often appear on your right arm, sometimes remaining like a tattoo for weeks or fading before you could even read it fully. These were the thoughts of a person whose soul matched your own. He was a college student who is majoring in English with focus on things like creative writing and poetry and you’ve gathered that ‘Chris’ was his roommate.

For as flowery his major was, the boy’s thoughts were surprisingly plain and boring. However, you were thankful for it. Your friend often had dark circles under her eyes. Her connection with her soul partner was being awake at the same time and you were sure her soul’s partner lived on the other side of the world with the opposite time zone. To be honest, you gleaned almost nothing from the notes. The boy probably didn’t know that his thoughts were being recorded on your arm, which you always kept covered with a sleeve. Neither did you know what connection he had with you. Did he feel the emotions you did? Were his dreams your memories? You’ve laid to waste these meaningless thoughts to focus on your life more, not his. There was little reason to go searching him out; if you truly were tied together by souls, fate could do the heavy lifting for you two.

Leaning back at your desk, you shake out your cramping hands. The graphic design project requires that you draw out the story board by hand rather than digitally and you never wished more to curse for it. The reason was, according to your Professor, head of the project you and your classmates are fighting to be a part of use physical copies in the preliminary section. Because you had started in traditional art, relatively it was easy to get back in the swing of things. Didn’t mean that your hand didn’t hurt like a bitch, though. You had everything riding you getting to participate in this project, you’d planned everything out with your counselor and had little attractive options if you didn’t get it, so you return to your drawing.

Your roommate swings open the door, causing you to jump and tug your sleeve on quickly. She throws her bag on her bed with no regards to the loud thump it emits. Her blonde hair rests on your paper when she leans over to look at your drawing. As always, she gushes at your talents and as always, you remind her that her microbiology major is much more impressive.

The night is a lot hotter than comfortable, especially with the tight sleeve you always relegate yourself to, even while sleeping. Ever since you caught your dad reading the thoughts on your arm when you slept, you sometimes go so far as to sleep on your stomach, with your right arm tucked under you. It was uncomfortable reading his thoughts, much less having someone else read them. Yeah, they weren’t always too juicy or detailed, but it still felt wrong to share something like this with anyone else.

“Even family?” You remember your dad asking to your rage.

“Even family.” You hissed.

With a groan, you rise out of bed, your roommate looking up from her five inch thick textbook, illuminated by a soft, yellow dest lamp. Her watery eyes gaze up at you from behind her round glasses. “I’m going out. Can’t sleep.” You tell her.

The night breeze whispers through your hair as you sit on an empty bench in an empty courtyard near your dorms. It’s in time like these that you feel peace. When not a soul is around you and you can finally just sit with yourself. Slowly, you unwind the sleeve and are met with chaotic swirl of words. This happens when he dreams.

Worth, friends, others, internships, classes, empty, running, nothing, darkness.

Your heart pangs. He’s having nightmares again. Instinctively, you begin to wrap your arm up again, not wishing to invade him at his weakest point.

Though you don a mask of indifference towards the scrawl on your arm and effectively the boy around others, you can’t help but hurt for him. He seems swamped with so much to do and feels helpless. When you look down, the chilling sentence on your arm burns in your mind and heart.

I don’t think there’s anyone for me. All I see is black. Am I alone?

Two weeks later, they stay. No matter how many times you unwrap and rewrap your arm, those three sentences never leave. Others come and go, but from that night until now, they stay. And the guilt of not pursuing this boy is eating you alive.

You always assumed he had a connection that allowed him to know of your existence. When you realize that he doesn’t, your passivity almost seems like a sin. How lonely it must be to be alone in a world where everyone has someone. Since then, you’ve been paying close attention to the scrawl on your arm, careful to gather as much info on him as you can decipher. Right now though, in class, you can’t.

Your Professor is announcing the chosen students of the project and you can’t really think about him now.

“And the last student is Y/n.”

You heave out a sign of relief, making a note to thank you Professor. You’re sure she had a few good words to put in for you. “The students I just called will be working with other student in screenwriting. You guys need to pick five scripts you want to animate and the screenwriting students will choose their preferred artist.”

Walking into the classroom with another female peer by your side, you absentmindedly fidget with your sleeve. She walks boldly up to a male student, who’s dark blonde falls onto his freckled cheeks, sticking her hand out. “I’m Madeline,” you hear her say. His eyes snap up towards yours but he immediately looks back to Madeline as they exchange pleasantries.

Madeline is paired up with the freckled boy and you with a quiet, thoughtful boy named Seungmin. He tells you that he is friends with Felix, the freckled boy, so you combine tables and group up. Because this is a project done in your own time, you all choose to work together to bounce ideas off with each other though with how bubbly Madeline is, you wonder how much you guys will get done.

When the topic of soul partners comes up, you and Felix shift uncomfortably. Seungmin gets visions through the eyes of his partner and has seen her face, he tells you guys casually.

How wonderful it must be to know who your soul is tied to, you think bitterly, a twinge of jealousy coursing through you.

Madeline’s green eyes shine as she starts, “I don’t know who they are, but I see colors that has to be tied to them.” She’s a romantic, giddy with excitement at the prospect. It’s so easy to live with just seeing colors; it’s pretty and inconsequential, much a contrast to the invasive cryptics on your arm.

When all your eyes turn to Felix, he purses his lips softly, only able to look down at the table. “I actually don’t know what my connection is. Maybe its unconsciousness because I can never fall asleep at nights,” he jokes, attempting to push the attention off of that topic.

A glossy nail taps Madeline’s pink lips as her dark lashes flutter, “I don’t think so. Insomnia isn’t usually paired with unconsciousness connection.”

Feigning disinterest, Felix shrugs, focusing back to the sketches, “Maybe it has something to do with my color blindness, I’m not sure. Doesn’t really matter,” he mutters, his voice deep and throaty. Madeline gasps, lightly slapping Felix’s arm. He raises an eyebrow at her.

“Of course that has to be it!” She exclaims, “It’ll be a subcategory color connection, just like me! Maybe you’ll see colors when you see your partner or when some other unveiling instance occurs.”

She goes into depth about connections, her shoulders bouncing in excitement. Thankfully, this distracts them from asking you about your connection. As her movements and words quicken, the stale bitterness in your mouth consumes you. It’s immature, your distaste for anything about these connections. Just because you have a subjectively unfortunate connection definitely doesn’t mean you should shit on Madeline’s obvious interest in the subject. In fact, Felix and Seungmin seem to enjoy talking with her about it as she has extended knowledge about connections.

However, while Seungmin’s tone that he asks his with questions are amused, his interest piqued, Felix is leaned forward in his chair, his eyes barely concealing desperation. Your heart pangs for him; he’s probably so lost.

Seungmin and Madeline walk in front of you and Felix on the sidewalk, returning to the dorms. They’re in deep conversation about Seungmin’s connection and with Madeline’s knowledge and Seungmin’s intellect, they quickly and thankfully exclude you and Felix.

“I don’t wanna talk about connections,” you declare to him. A small smile spreads across Felix’s face and he nods knowingly. “What made you want to get into animation?” He asks, a pleasant and refreshing topic.

“I haven’t always been the best at art,” you admit with a shrug. “No way!” Felix exclaims, his eyebrows raised, “Your work is so cool, though.”

You laugh at the compliment, “Yeah, well it took me a while to get here and I didn’t want to throw away that work, so here I am. What about you? Why did you want to get into script writing?”

Felix’s eyes soften and he stares off past the line of buildings, into the horizon. “I feel like I can see different things with words. Does that make sense?” He pauses, gathering his thoughts, “They open up worlds and ideas that I can’t experience and it makes me feel closer to normal. It makes me feel alive.”

“Like, you can imagine how colors feel or look through words?”

He nods, looking back at you with a playful look, “That’s another reason why I like your work so much. The values are clear and I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything by not seeing color.”

The genuine, heartfelt comment makes your heart warm and a smile spread across your face, “Yeah, I focus a lot on just greyscale because composition is the most important aspect to my art. Stuff like color theory, while important, it basically inconsequential if you can’t even tell what’s going on in the picture.”

Felix’s voice quiets as he shoots a look up at Madeline’s back, “Yeah, I didn’t want to choose Madeline’s for that reason, but she really thought that the color use in my script would work in perfect tandem with her style and I really couldn’t tell whether she’s right or not,” he shrugs, his lips pulling into a line.

“Oh, totally,” you say quickly, not wishing to have Felix question his choice, “It makes total sense and in some instances color can tell more of a story than composition and values can. It was wise to team with her.” Maybe your intentions of reassuring Felix was too obvious because his eyes crinkle deeply when he gives you a big, knowing smile.

A week into your work and the very basic shapes for the animation is finished. Working with Seungmin is wonderful as he has a clear direction and even pictures he’s taken to show you what he envisions. Concentration pinches Felix’s eyebrows together and he and Madeline converse as you watch them from the other end of the table.

An hour or two pass and you stand up to stretch, announcing that you’re gonna take a bathroom break to which they agree is a wonderful idea. Coming out of the bathroom, you wrap up your sleeve, peeking to see what the ink says this time. The three words that you’re familiar with; that have been etched into your sink for weeks don’t make your heart stop, but the ones under it.

Am I alone? She needs to add more clear composition so I can actually tell what’s going on.

Your eyes snap up to the blond haired boy. That’s exactly what Felix told you a day ago. Its him?

To your confusion, he now stares, awestruck at Madeline. There’s a sinking in your stomach but you can’t tell why. Gasping, his eyes widen as he takes her hands. “Madeline…I think,” he stumbles over his words, clearly flabbergasted. “I-I’m seeing color now, I think.”

She squeals, squeezing his hands tightly, “When? Just now? What happened?” His dark eyes look dazes and he steps back. His eyes wander from the ground her hers and he whispers, “When I saw you.” Turning your back on them, you leave quickly, not wishing to intrude on Felix’s revelation.

You resume your seat next to Seungmin, heaving a sigh. “What’s wrong?” His lips form a slight pout and his head tilts to the side. You shake your head, waving a hand, “Felix and Madeline are soul partners. He just found out.” From your peripheral, you see Seungmin smile widely. You laugh to yourself, an embarrassed blush rising on your cheeks at your previous hasty conclusion. You really are desperate for the person who matches your soul.

“That’s great,” he taps your arm with his hand, hidden by his sweater’s sleeve, “Why do you look so bummed, though?”

You purse your lips, “It just sucks to be a late bloomer. I don’t know who my partner is,” you tell him as the bitterness fills your mouth again. Seungmin nods firmly, his fingers tapping your arm again, “At least you know that you have one, though. Felix didn’t even know whether he was alone or not.”

“Yeah,” you shrug, trying to ignore the gnawing guilt of your selfishness, “it just sucks.”

“Of course but just give it time,” Seungmin advises, patting your shoulder softly.

You and Seungmin gaze blankly at Felix and Madeline as they both gush over each other. You can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy in your chest when Felix gingerly strokes her cheek.

Clapping, Seungmin returns to the story board, pointing at a slide, “I like the idea with this one, but if you’ll look here,” he pulls out a picture he took of a deep, dark green forest that just seems to dissolve into black, “I want the composition to be more dangerous. Like, the characters are being drawn into darkness and they won’t have any way to escape.” Nodding quickly, you add rough shading and lines to your preexisting work to cater to Seungmin’s request.

“Perfect,” he beams his toothy smile at you.

By the time the project is all but done, Felix and Madeline are attached at the hip or the hand or the face. You try not to watch them, jealousy foaming in your throat. Felix’s eyelashes flutter against his freckles and his lips are glossy as Madeline gently strokes his cheek, smiling softly. Such a romantic—it would make sense that her seeing colors would be paired with his past complete colorblindness. He gushes over her work and her use of color, his voice giddy with excitement at finally seeing color, finally being normal.

While your initial bitterness at their fortune has washed away into passivity, you can’t bring yourself to look at your arm like you used to. In a way, you’re foolishly upset at you partner for not giving you anymore clues that would lead you to him. It’s foolish because he doesn’t know you can read what’s on his mind.

You pick up your artist’s hand brace from your dorm bed and begin unwrapping your arm to put it on, barely sparing the black scrawl a glance.

Its not all black anymore. I can see it. I can see her.

Dread clenches your gut as your eyes travel down to the next single word.

Madeline.

There’s a buzzing white in your head as you fumble to get your shoes on, tripping out into the hallway, breaking into a sprint towards Madeline’s dorm, on the other side of the campus. Whirling confusing overcomes your mimd and you feel like you’re suffocating, the only goal is to find an answer. You don’t know when hints of this conclusion plagued your mind. Maybe it was that day, months ago at the bathroom. Maybe it was a deeper jealousy at seeing Felix kissing Madeline. It didn’t matter anymore, you frantically knocked at her door, out of breath and gasping.

Her green eyes are wide and her pink lips are swollen, she’s almost as out of breath as you are. She makes no move to hide Felix, who’s pulling on a shirt behind her shoulder. Nervousness pangs in your throat but you shove past her and shed your arm to Felix.

“Wh-what’s this, Y/n?” He asks, eyes bouncing off your arm to your face, uncomfortable with looking at something you’ve explained to him is so precious and private to you.

“Read it,” you beg, eyes flicking from his face to Madeline’s. She furrows her shapely eyebrows, gingerly taking your cold arm into her soft hands. At Madeline’s brazenness, Felix finds it in himself to look down at your arm.

Her grip is firm but you could rip away from it at any moment.

Madeline’s eyes are wild and horror fills them as she looks up at Felix. You try desperately to explain, “I-I don’t know what this means either, but that day that you first saw color, Felix, there were your exact words to me about your project on my arm.”

He laughs to deflect how uncomfortable he feels, it comes out too harsh and grates against your neck, raising heat into your face. “Y/n I know you really wanna find your partner, but this is crazy. Don’t try to suggest stuff like this. Madeline and I are partners, everything has been perfect since that day for us.”

He looks over to Madeline for reassurance, but she doesn’t meet his eyes. A soft, vulnerable look plagues her eyes as she looks up at you. Felix stutters, confused why she wouldn’t immediately agree with him. “Lix,” she inhales deeply, “for my connection, you know how I see colors? Those are actually s-supposed to go away when I meet my partner.” You realize the vulnerable look in her eyes was actually guilt.

“What?” His voice is a breath, like he’s been struck in the chest and is left gasping for air. “I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to meet them because I don’t want to loose my color—it’d be like dying for me and I’m really happy with you. Aren’t you happy with me too?” Felix’s lips hang open and his face is frowning in confusion, “So you’ve been using me when you knew I wasn’t yours?” Madeline’s eyes fill with guilty tears and she nods. As much as you can understand why she did what she did, anger and bitterness towards her, towards loosing so much time with Felix consumes you.

“Then you never deserved him,” you hiss, possessively retracting your arm into your body, hiding the words against your bosom.

You and Felix sit wordless on a bench in a park in a part of town you were unfamiliar with.

“So it was you this entire time?”

“I’m so sorry, Felix,” your voice cracks and you bite your lip to prevent it from trembling, “I really didn’t know for sure and I doubted what I knew because you just seemed so happy with her.”

He scoffs loudly, running a hand through his silver hair, “Yeah and look what that amounted to.”

Quietly, you respond, “It amounted to us realizing. That means something.”

Felix exhales slowly, turning to face you, his eyes tired and sad, “Yeah, at least we realized now—” he stops abruptly, pausing to collect himself, “God, I was so stupid, just because I started seeing color one random day because she was in front of me?” He scoffs again, slouching into the bench.

“It made sense though, you were both eager to get your partners and—”

“But to leave you alone?” His voice is raw and soft, “I left you alone when you were right there.” Slowly, as if he were a hologram or mirage you couldn’t quite reach, you extend your hand to rest your hand on his warm cheek, almost shocked that he’s there. Unintentionally, he leans into your hand, closing his eyes gently. “We can begin now. Rather a late start than never. We have the rest of our lives to get it right.”

Felix buries his face into the crook of your shoulder, pressing firm, confident kisses and hot, stinging hickies into your neck. You run your hands up the bare expanse of his back and up to his hair. Flush spreads across your cheeks as he lifts himself up to gaze down at your bare chest but you don’t cover yourself up. You have nothing to hide. “Have you ever done this before?” You whisper to him. He shakes his head softly, leaning down to trail kisses from the base of your neck through the valley between your breasts. Lower, his kisses get wetter as he gets closer to your aching hotness. As if you’re made of paper, Felix gingerly spreads your legs. The cold air hitting your core causes you to flinch, but Felix’s warm palm presses slowly against you, calming the sensation into pleasure.

“May I?”

You whine out a ‘yes’, groaning when his sinks a finger into your core. It sucks his finger in and Felix barely contains a moan at the sensation, imagining how you’d feel around him. Slowly, he begins to pump his single finger into you before adding another and scissoring deep. Curling his fingers, he brushes your sweet spot, causing you to gasp and arch your back.

Smiling to himself, he continues to work at that spot until you’re gasping and moaning incessantly. He pulls out and you whine immediately but he positions himself above you, gazing down at you with adoration even while his impossibly hard dick pokes against you. “Hurry, Lixie, please do it,” you whine and he hushes you with a kiss, slowly sliding in and caressing his tongue against yours when you gasp. Your face is scrunched up at the unfamiliar stretch but Felix can’t help but smile down at you, endeared. His eyes are dark at the sensation of him dragging against your walls. When you begin to relax around him, you start whining again and he giggles, slowly beginning to thrust up into you. There’s nothing desperate or wanton about his movements against you. He’s being gentle, letting you feel him as his drags along your walls though it takes all his self control to not increase the pace. It’s deep and rhythmic, his hips against yours. He fills you up and groans as you seem to suck him up, your juices mixing with his precum.

“Baby, you’re so warm and so—mhg—tight,” he gasps against you, “Can I go faster?”

“Yeah,” you’re breathless and rake your fingers across his back when he starts to do just that. He positions his hip in a way that has himself dragging across your sweet spot and you screaming with every thrust. He reaches down to rub your clit, stars and lights sparking across your vision as a burning coil begins wind in your gut. The groans and moans he lets out when you unintentionally clench around him paired with the way his movements quicken as he becomes desperate push you closer. “Y/n, I’m g-gonna cum,” he whispers, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin. “Me too, Lixie,” you gasp, running your hands over his body.

“I love you.” Your high crashes over you, white pleasure electrifying you through your body as you feel Felix shoot into you. The burning pleasure overcomes your senses as he collapses next to you, his hair sticking to his forehead as he pants into your neck, smiling deeply in pure bliss. Euphoric, you tug him closer, pressing a kiss to the freckle on the tip of his nose, onto both his cheeks, and finally onto his warm, glossy lips.

“I love you too, Lixie.” He is yours and you are his. That’s how it was predestined and you both have fulfilled destiny.

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eyitsroseau · 4 years ago

Text

Across the World Part 2 (Dr. Xeno dad! x Reader) Dr. Stone fanfic | A mini-series

In which you found out you were pregnant pre-petrification to your long time boyfriend NASA scientist, Xeno. However, when you told him the news, he wanted nothing to do with it because his top priority is his research. Hurt, you decided to find refuge and start anew in the country you have always wanted to live in, Japan. Post-petrification and Senku announced they'll be traveling to America. As you have lived there before, they took you and your one-year-old daughter along. Now, thousands of years later, you'll find yourself face to face with the man who had hurt you the most across the world.

Part 1

Part 3

Xeno can never forget the first time he saw you- not that he ever wants to. He was late for a convention and the traffic isn't helping either. To his folly, he decided to reach the venue by walking. He is well aware that his body is not in its perfect condition and the sun's heat will make him eventually pass out.

And he did. That was not his proudest moment. He knows he can just call the program director and cover him for a while. But his intuition told him to go out. His intuitions are never wrong.

That's when he met you- him passed out and you- a nurse passing by. You immediately called for an ambulance and assessed your then patient. He's having a fever and you guessed that the heat precipitated his condition.

In the middle of your assessments, he briefly regained consciousness. He was sure then that he saw an angel.

Well, that angel turned out to be the nurse in charge of him. He was way too overjoyed but you on the other hand are pissed. His obvious flirting gets on your nerves and won't let you work in peace.

But as days go by, you are slowly getting used to his antics. It even saddened you when he is discharged. You thought you will never see him again.

Oh, how wrong you were. Because every day, he passes by the hospital to greet and bring you food. Efforts like this make a woman's heart melt.

And so, after five months of getting to know each other, the two of you officially became a couple. It was the happiest day of Xeno's life.

9 months into your relationship, you both decided to move in together. There, you learned a lot about each other- all the good and the bad. Your relationship was not perfect. You sometimes fight but neither of you let the day end without making up. After all, makeup sex is the best.

So when did everything changed? Xeno knows the truth, of course. He was stressed and overworked. Multiple projects have been forced on him and the pressure is starting to grip on him like vines.

It was not right to dump all his frustrations at you but he can't help it. There are nights when he can't go home as he is still completing his formulas. Add to that, he feels everything is irritating.

So when, one day. When you told him the big news, he was just being honest. A baby? In the middle of all of this? He doesn't want it.

At first, that is.

He finds himself not concentrating at his work because he's distracted. A vision of you, him and your child would often pop in his mind. And to be honest, he loves it the more he thinks about it.

He suddenly became energized. He miraculously finished everything he needed to be done that day. There's a kick to his steps as he bounded with a hum along the way. His co-workers are a bit startled by the change in his attitude. Not a long while, he was snapping at everyone. But now, he even smiles and wishes them a nice weekend.

He even went to a flower shop to buy your favorite flowers. He ordered your favorite food in your favorite restaurant. He knows he had hurt you and he will surely make it up to you. He will tell you that he's with you and he can't wait to be a father.

But, he never did. The moment he stepped inside your shared apartment, he dropped those precious flowers. He instantly knew.

You are gone, taking along with you the visions of his future.

Xeno did not waste any time. He called his detective friend, Daisuke. And in a matter of seconds, he found out you are headed to Japan. Relief washed over him as he now knows you're safe. He will finish his works then he will come after you.

And again, he never did. There is a lot of troubleshooting that needs to be done because his assistants messed up a lot. Not only that, the government assigned him to study the stone phenomenon in sparrows.

When he arrived at a hypothesis, he gathered all the national leaders. He would get this done and over with so he can board on a plane and be with you when the petrification starts.

But it seems that luck is never on his side. The bright light appeared sooner than he thought. And right there and then, in the meeting with the leaders, he turned to stone.

He keeps his mind busy. Counting each second, days, weeks, months, and years. He would reminisce about your moments together. Sometimes, daydream about your family.

After one thousand years later, he knew that the world will never be the same again if mankind would be revived.

Two thousand years in, he starts strategizing what to do for him to start again if he breaks out of this stone.

Three thousand years later, he wills himself to wake up in the springtime so he can gather food and have the best rate of survival.

Finally, 3,700 years later, he is depetrified. He didn't waste time gathering resources for him to survive.

The universe might have pitied him from all the wrong timings he had in his life that they gifted him the precious power of platinum. With that, he was able to build his kingdom of science.

Now that he can create weapons, boats, and airplanes, he is ready to sail across the world to find you. He will not leave any stone unturned. Heck, he'll even dig the whole of Japan just to find you. Hopefully, he can also find his child.

He's sure that his child would be over a year old by the time the world has been petrified. He can't wait to be finally reunited with you. He will do what it takes to make it up to you even if it's thousands of years too late. He loves you and the child he never met more than anything.

And again, luck has never been on his side because Senku's troops stopped him from setting sail that day. He can't leave his Kingdom in this state. After all, this is where his family will live someday. He has to protect this home first.

But alas, the universe is a conniving bastard. He didn't expect to meet you, 3,700 years later in a yacht and in Senku's team.

He has been speechless the moment he gazed on the white-haired little girl in your arms.

It was a little girl, huh? His... daughter.

He felt tears prick his eyes upon seeing the child that is a result of your love for each other.

"I guess you never want me."

It hurts every single cell in his body upon hearing his daughter say that. He was left standing there, seeing his family leave again. For so many years, he had practiced what to say and do the moment he'll find you. But, all words had left him

He was about to follow you but his mentee stopped him.

"Leave them for a while. Xenka-chan's an intelligent girl but she's still a child. Let her be comforted by her mother," Senku advised his mentor.

Xeno sighed and knew that the boy is right. He might make the situation worse than it already is. He plopped right back on the sofa he's sitting on a while ago.

"Xenka, huh," he muttered.

"I know right? It seems that Y/N-san does really love you. She named her child after you," Senku grinned at him.

"Our child," he corrected the young scientist.

"Kukuku. Do you want information about them? I can give it to you plus, I'll help you win them over," of course, Senku has his villain face on while saying that.

Xeno knows that there's no helping it. After all, his and Senku's objective is the same- kind of. He will set aside everything just to find his way back into his family. Now that they're here, he will work his ass for you and Xenka's forgiveness.

"What's your condition?" he finally asked and Senku looked like he won the jackpot.

"Ah, do you know that she's just one and a half years old but she correctly guessed the formula and ingredients to the revival fluid just by sniffing them. She even deduced its function. Man, your child is seriously a genius," Senku goes on and on.

On the other hand, Xeno has integrated everything his mentee told him. It appears that Xenka has taught herself language from her memories with her mother. Then, she went to learn all kinds of sciences from the books she happened to scan as a yet clueless baby.

His baby girl has kept her mind active for thousands of years that it didn't surprise him to know that she has depetrified herself first.

According to Senku, his daughter has been his little assistant. Supplying him with what she's learned over the years.

"To be honest, she's almost on my level and she's just almost two. Wait until she grows up a bit and I'm sure she'll be living in the lab. It irritates her how small her body is to do anything," the two men chuckled.

"Oh, I bet once she can grasp the flasks and beakers well, she's on to her experiments. She's surely my daughter," Xeno said with a smile on his face. He could never be more than proud.

"The only problem is how to approach them," he muttered, feeling down once again.

"Don't sweat the little details that much. Xenka will surely gravitate to your intelligence and you'll have her talking to you in no time. Now, it is Y/N that you should be thinking about," Senku rose from his seat, looking at the other scientist in his room. An evil grin forming on his sinful lips.

"Chrome, go get Xenka,"

The little squirt has a frown on her face after finding herself tied to a chair. She was dragged away from her mother after her afternoon nap and she doesn't want to spend it with the man who had abandoned them.

"Listen here, Xenka-chan. I've strucked a deal with your father so you have to listen to him," Senku said patting the girl's head.

She looked the other way and pouted, "how can you sell me like that, oniisan?"

Senku chuckled at this, "it's not like you know everything, now don't you? But don't worry we didn't plan to force you to listen to him,"

Xenka rolled her eyes, "I'm tied to a chair. If this isn't using force then I don't what is," she deadpanned.

Xeno can't help but smile. Surely enough, his daughter inherited his intelligence but also her mother's stubbornness.

"Oh, you'll want to talk to him after this," Senku mischievously grinned at his 'little sister'. He knows exactly how to get the interest of this child.

"Oi, my dear mentor, are you ready to calculate and pinpoint where exactly the petrification beam started?"

That piqued the interest of the little girl.

After two hours of theorizing and calculating, the two had determined the exact location of what they're looking for. The two scientists stared at each other in silence before grinning and high fived each other.

In the small corner of the room, Xenka has her eyes widened, sparkling bright stars littered in her black depths.

"That- that was. I never heard anything like it," she breathed still in a daze after witnessing a thorough and scientific conversation like that. It made her heart beat fast and her curiosity about her father broadens.

"How is it Xenka?" Xeno courageously asked his child. Noting that this is the first time he's ever interacting with her.

Xenka hesitates. She doesn't want to talk to him because before he had hurt her, he hurt her precious mama first. However, her oniisan said that she doesn't know the entirety of the story. With her trust in her oniisan, she decided to give her father the benefit of the doubt.

The little girl looked to the side with a frown and a pout, "I guess you're not that b-bad," she says, a small blush already taking her cheeks.

This filled Xeno's heart with warmth and hope. He feels giddy and wants to empress her daughter more.

"Do you want to discuss aerodynamics with me?" Xeno asked.

The girl's head immediately snapped to his, eyes bright like a sparkling diamond, "let's start with Newton's third law of motion,"

The afternoon dragged on with the father and daughter droning on and on about rocket science.

It was already dinner time and you had not seen even the shadow of Xenka. She was dragged earlier by Chrome to see Senku and you knew that it has something to do with her father.

You sighed, you know your daughter well. If Xeno runs his mouth about anything related to Science then your daughter is done for. She's a sucker for intelligent people and there's no way she'll pass up the opportunity of talking to her dad.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you heard little giggles coming your way. There, in the hallway, you are faced with Xeno holding your daughter in his arms. Just like what you had imagined for a long time. It pains you and yet it flutters happiness in your heart. This is like a dream.

"Mama!"

Xeno's eyes snapped on you when he heard his daughter call you. You, on the other hand, felt overly conscious under his scrutinizing gaze. He noted how you have become even more beautiful since the last time he had seen you.

"Xenka, dinner's ready. You have to eat. Come here to mama," you coaxed your child, wanting to go away far from the man.

"No, mama! I want to be with papa! There's still a lot of stories I want to hear." You sighed. She already calls him papa, huh? That was quick.

"Mama, it's alright now. Papa explained to me already. He said he didn't want me at first but he changed his mind. He even went and bought you flowers and your favorite food so he can ask for your forgiveness and makeup with you that day. But mama, you had already left," you are taken aback by what your daughter stated.

You don't know what to feel or say.

"Well, he can just message me or approach me. Why didn't he?" You spat, feeling the bitterness rise again.

Your daughter scoffed at you, "mama, papa has like twenty projects at that time. As a scientist, I can understand why he has not contacted you though it kinda hurts but still. I know that he loves us and wants to be with us, mama," your daughter asked her father to be put down.

She went to you and hugged your knee, "Mama, I know we can't change what happened and I'm not invalidating how you feel. But, we have been through so much and even then, the three of us woke up in the same era and we even reunited. Aren't our family lucky to have found each other? Please think about it, mama. I know you have forgiven him a long time ago and you still love him," you are amazed at how you're precious daughter had spoken as if she's already older than you. Well, truly she is way too mature for her age of one year.

Xeno, on the other hand, can't believe how his daughter can sprout out those words. He feels so proud and yet at the same time he had hoped he had seen his little girl when she was still a blubbering mess. But, well, this is who Xenka is now, and he won, 't have it any other way.

"I'll leave the two of you alone to talk, mama and papa," the girl said after tapping gently her mother's leg. She then went on her way to Francois but then, she turned back to her dumbstruck parents.

"Oh, and I want a little brother," she said before skipping away.

That left the two a blushing mess. Gosh, can their daughter not? But even then, Xeno knows this is his chance to redeem himself.

"Y/N," he muttered. You notice how good your name rolls in his tongue.

"Was it true? Everything she said?" You asked. Clenching your hands from nervousness.

"It is. I'm sorry y/n. The last words I told you had tortured me for thousands of years. I had hurt you truly and that hurt me badly too. Not having you beside me is like living in hell. I'm sorry it took me a few hours to accept our child. And within those hours, it had cost you and our child," his voice broke down in the end as tears started to fall down his face.

It is a shock to you. Never, you had never seen him cry. You had never seen him this weak and lonely. You realized that you are not the only one who has been affected by the separation as you watched the broken man presenting you his crumbled pieces.

Your heart clenched. Was your love too shallow to have not trusted him back then? Had you just let him cool off for a bit, he had gone home to a warm apartment. You understood that he was pressured too much at that time and you left blinded by the hurt.

Looking back now, you realized you just wanted to get his attention. So you left, in hopes, he'll come running after you. But he never did, and it made you resent him more. You didn't even think for a second how he may have felt. He was tied down by his projects and you knew that if only he was free, he'll come running to you. Humanity relied on his projects and a single error can cost lots of lives. You knew this but still, you only trusted your selfishness.

"Xeno, I-" you can't take it anymore. You cried your heart out and he immediately embraced you.

"I'm sorry, Xeno. I'm sorry. I have been selfish and truly I am sorry," you added between sobs.

You felt Xeno shake his head, "it's understandable y/n. I was also wrong. It's okay now," he continues to console you, rubbing your back.

"Well, I know a lot has changed but why don't we start over again, yeah?" He whispers.

You pulled away from him to look him in the eyes, "how?"

He thought for a few seconds before grinning, the one that has always make your heart leap.

"I own this yacht and there's a little room downstairs. Maybe we can start with our daughter's request," he proposed naughtily.

You only smacked him in the head which made him chuckle.

"Oh my god Xeno, that's horrible! Where?" This time, it is you who had a smirk in the face. Xeno did not expect you to play along but this fired him up.

"Let's have twins this time," he said before pulling you somewhere.

In the distance, the crew of eavesdroppers finally sighed as they watched the reunited couple leave.

"That was quick," Ryusui commented.

"They're not teenagers anymore, you know," Senku replied and carried a smiling Xenka.

"They had like thousands of years to think over what happened so why wait now? It's so obvious they love each other, it makes me want to barf," the little girl muttered.

"Kukuku. I bet you are the happiest of all Xenka-chan," the leek-y scientist grinned.

"Your right, oniisan. My family is now complete and we may have another member in a few months," she said exuding the happiness she truly felt inside her heart.

"Alright, everyone, the food is already done!"

With that, the crew followed Francois never minding the distant moans and groans coming from below.

55 notes · View notes

atlafan · 4 years ago

Text

My Everything - Part Twelve

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut! 7.6K

Masterpost

It was sad putting your two weeks in at Mark It, but everyone understood. You were extremely grateful for every single opportunity they had given you. But sometimes a bird needs to leave the nest. You promised you’d talk up the company to any undergrads you come across. You were able to get onto the university’s insurance right away, and you added Harry to your plan.

One night Harry was rubbing your feet while you were both sitting on the couch.

“So do you need to go to campus a bunch? Or can you do a lot from home?”

“I’m going to be on campus for as long as I can, set up my office and all that. It’s nice, I even have a window! I feel like I’ll be able to concentrate in the space a little easier.”

“My mum was wondering if we wanted her and Gem to come here for Christmas this year instead of us flying out.”

“Oh.” You frown. “No, I want you to be able to see your friends. This is when you usually get to see Louis. I can still fly, the doctor said it was okay.”

“Are you sure you can swing that? I mean, you have so much to do with your new job.”

“We only go for the holidays, the school won’t even be open. We’re only gone for seven days. I’d rather go to London, but that’s very sweet of her to offer.”

“If that’s the case, she was wondering when we’re going to set up a registry. I think she wants to throw you an early baby shower since they probably won’t be able to come here for that.”

“Oh, um, this is sort of awkward, but we don’t do that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, Jewish people, we don’t do baby showers.”

“Why not?”

“It’s bad luck.” You shrug. “You’re not supposed to buy gifts for the baby or bring anything into the home ahead of time. My mom said we could put things in her basement.”

“So we can’t even set up the nursery? I mean, I was ready to start gettin’ the bed out of there. I was thinking of turning the loft into the guest room.”

“What about your desk and all of your things?”

“I don’t really work from home much anymore, and I’d like to still have a place for my family to sleep when they come visit.”

“Alright, and we can set up the nursery, like we can paint and stuff. We can put the crib in there, but maybe not the padding or the blankets. We can get the registry set up and just put my mom’s address on there. I know she was thinking of doing a combined mommy shower for myself and Erica.”

“Mommy shower?”

“It’s sort of a loophole to the baby shower thing. Everyone brings gifts for the parents to be.”

“Ohhh, I like that. I’ll tell my mum to do that instead. I’m sure she’d love the idea of buying you a ton of things.”

“She doesn’t need to.”

“I know, but this is her first grandchild and she feels far away from it, you know? She wants to spoil us, you.”

“Alright, then I won’t argue.”

“Come here, come sit in my lap.”

You get up and climb on top of him. He holds you close to him. He gives you kisses and you give them back. He feels a wetness on his neck from where you’ve buried your face.

“Are you crying?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” He can’t help but chuckle.

“I’m just so happy.” You look up at him. “I thought starting a new job and rearranging all our furniture and stuff would be stressful. I thought with our friends living further away we’d never see them, but we see them all the time still. Things are good, Harry.”

“They’re very good, darlin’.” He kisses your forehead. You roll your hips down on him.

“Will you take me to the bedroom?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

He picks you up carefully, and carries you down the hall. Things were really good.

“Let me get a good look at yeh, spin around.” You turn around in your maternity outfit for him. You still weren’t that big, but you were carrying a lot of your weight in your lower stomach, so normal pants were no longer an option. Instead you opted for leggings and a long sleeve flowy dress to wear over them. “What time’s your first class?”

“9:30.” You beam.

“Have a great first day, I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Harry kisses you and sends you off into the cold.

Your commute to school wouldn’t be a long one, which was nice. Since you weren’t hired as a research faculty, and since you couldn’t start your PhD yet, you did have to work Monday through Friday, but most days you’d be home around 3PM, which was really nice. You’d be teaching a couple of intro communication courses, at two sections each, and then two sections of an upper level film criticism course. You were thrilled.

You go to your office first to drop off your coat, and change your shoes. You didn’t need to wear your boots all day. Your friends had sent you good luck texts and other well wishes. You make your way to the elevator and head upstairs. There were a couple of early birds there, and you smile at them as you get your laptop set up with the computer.

You wait until 9:35 to get started, letting any stragglers come into the room. Once everyone is seated, you close the door.

“Good morning everyone, lucky you, we get to do this three times a week. I know 9:30 is early so coffee and other snacks are fine with me. I know some professors don’t allow that, but I don’t really care. Just make sure your neighbor doesn’t have any allergies.” You take a deep breath. “Right, so, my name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, feel free to call me Y/N, or professor, or whatever you feel comfortable with. Just know that I am not a doctor, so you don’t need to address me as such.” The students hum their response. “As you may or may not be able to tell, I’m pregnant.” You turn to the side and cup your lower stomach. “Thank you, yes, very exciting. I’m due at the end of May, and if all goes according to plan you shouldn’t need a substitute. This is my first time physically teaching in person, but I have taught before. I’m very excited to be here. Oh! I will say, my husband owns Styles Photography not too far from here, so if you ever need a good picture taken, or if you’re looking for an internship, don’t hesitate to ask me. And before you ask, no, I did not take his last name.” You look at their droopy eyes. “Okay, before we get into the syllabus and class expectations, I want us all to do an ice breaker.” You hear a few groans. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to say your name or where you’re from, I already have all that info. I want you to turn to the person next to you, take out your phones, and show them your most recently liked tik tok.” They all look at you. “We all have tik tok right?” They all say yes. “Okay then, have at it.”

You lean back against the desk as you hear people laughing and giggling.

“Anyone have the same one liked?” A couple students raise their hands. “Too funny. Okay, okay, let’s settle back down. See, isn’t that a better way of getting to know someone?” You go over to the computer and pull up your syllabus. “I want these classes to be real open discussion. As long as you’re not talking over someone, don’t even worry about raising your hand.”

You give the same shpeal in each class all week. By the time Friday rolled around, you were drained to say the least, but you were happy. You felt accomplished. You knew things might get more difficult as you started assigning projects and such, and getting bigger, but you tried not to think too far ahead.

You loved having students visit during your office hours, some of them really took a liking to you. Harry would bring Buster by when you could take your lunch breaks. You were a lot closer to him now which he liked.

“Professor Y/L/N?” A student knocks on the door and gasps when she sees Harry. All of your students knew what he looked like by now because they begged to see pictures. “Sorry, I’m interrupting your lunch.”

“It’s okay, Molly. This is my husband, Harry.” He smiles and shakes her hand. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you could look over something quick for me? I selected some music for the background in my video, and I just wanted to know your thoughts.”

“Sure!”

“I can step out if yeh want?”

“It’s okay Mr. Styles, six ears are better than four.” The girl smiles and he nods.

Harry watches as you explain things to your student. How understanding you are, and how you give her a few tips. She thanks you before leaving.

“That was pretty cool. Wish I had a teacher like you back in the day.”

“Oh, stop.” You smile. “I’m really having a lot of fun with them.”

“Good, I’m glad. So…we have a doctor’s appointment on Friday.”

“That we do.”

“We’ve been holdin’ off on something…”

“You wanna know the sex of the baby, don’t you?”

“I do, I really do. I know it doesn’t really matter because it could decide it wants to be the complete opposite, and I know we’ve painted the nursery grey and yellow, but I mostly wanna know so we can start calling it its name, instead of it or Baby Styles.”

“Aw, but I like Baby Styles.” You pout and he leans in to kiss you. “I see what you’re saying though. Okay, I suppose at our next appointment we could finally let Dr. Johnson tell us.”

“Consider it another birthday present.”

“Harry.” You sigh. “Your birthday was two weeks ago.”

“I know…but you made it such a good birthday.”

“Please.” You whisper as your cheeks heat up. “I can’t discuss that here. This is one office that will stay pure.”

Dr. Johnson was giving you your ultrasound, making sure everything was good. The baby’s heart beat was excellent, and everything was the way it should be.

“Does its head look large to you? Harry has a pretty big head.” You smirk and he nudges your shoulder.

“We may have a larger head, sure.” She laughs. “So, Harry mentioned to the nurse that you’d like to know what you’re having. Are we sure? A couple of weeks ago it didn’t seem like you were ready to know.”

“We talked about it and we’d like to know.” You tell her.

“Alright…” She moves the ultrasound over your stomach so you can really see the baby’s side better. “You two are having…a boy!”

You both gasp and tear up. You look up at Harry and he leans down to kiss you.

“We would’ve been happy with either, but I was hoping for a boy.” You say. “I kind of had a feeling since he’s sitting so low.”

Dr. Johnson cleans up your stomach and prints you some new sonograms. You couldn’t help but stay glossy eyed as you get down to the car. Harry takes your hand and kisses it.

“Harry…”

“Yes, my love?”

“We’re having a Jack Edward.”

“We’re havin’ a Jack Edward.” He leans in to kiss your teary face. “Can we FaceTime my mum when we get home?”

“Of course. We can tell everyone.”

Your mother threw you and Erica a conjoined “Mommy Shower”. Her husband’s family wanted to do something traditional for her. So of course they broke the rules and bought things for her soon to be baby, which you found out was going to be a girl. You were happy to have her to go through this with. It made you a lot closer. You could call her and compare weird cravings.

You were having fun munching on food, and talking with your friends. You and Erica didn’t really want to play any of the baby shower games. The decorations were really nice that were put up, though. Eventually came time for you to open gifts. Harry sat on one side of you while Mike sat on Erica’s other side so you two could sit in the middle.

You each opened up your gifts, and thanked everyone for coming. You talked with Sarah about her wedding planning. Her and Niall would be getting married at a Temple in Milton, and the reception would be at a nearby hotel. Well, the ceremony would be outside of a Temple, but either way, more religious than your ceremony.

Isaac and Seth would be going to the courthouse at the end of March, and having a party at their apartment for close friends and family. Rachel and Mariah had recently got engaged as well. Everything was falling into place for all your friends, and you couldn’t be happier for them. You were happy that even though you were all sort of growing up and moving on with your lives that you still made time for each other. You felt like you had this whole other family with them, and they felt the same way.

It was your one year wedding anniversary, and you were very pregnant. Harry wanted to take you to the Cape for the weekend, to the inn you got married at.

“Are you excited for your weekend away, Professor?” One of your students asks. They loved when they could get you going on a tangent on a Friday. You were too tired to care at this point.

“I’m very excited.”

“What’s being married like? I can’t even imagine being with one person.” Another student says.

“That’s because you’re in college.” You chuckle. “Being married is really nice, actually. To be honest, it’s not that much different from being just in a normal relationship, but there’s a whole other level of trust and understanding.”

“How did you and Harry meet?”

“Have I never told this story to this section of class?” The class all says no. “I don’t believe you, but I’m too pregnant to care, and it’s Friday.” You sit on the edge of the desk. “We met on a blind date. Our friend Niall set us up. We went to a dinner. I was twenty-four at the time.” You smile.

“And you two just hit it off?”

“Mhm, it was like we went on that one date, and we just kept seeing each other like every weekend. I think it was like three weeks in when he asked me to be his girlfriend.” The class gasps. “I know! And then we moved in together after like five months.”

“Ohhh, he really liked you huh?”

“Very much, and I guess I liked him too.” You giggle.

“Is it weird that next month you’re going to be a mom?”

“Well, I’ve been a mom to my dog, Buster, you guys know that. But…it’s not that it’s weird, it’s more like nervous and excited. Everything’s going to change.”

“Ahem.” You look over and see Harry leaning against the door frame, smiling, with a bouquet of flowers. The class ooo’s. They knew Harry well by now.

“You’re early.” You smile.

“Only by five minutes. It’s Friday, think yeh could dismiss ‘em early?”

“What do you say class? We did some good work this week, yeah? Go on, enjoy your weekends.”

“You too!” A few of them say.

“I like freshmen.” You tell Harry as he hands you your flowers. “Thank you, these are lovely.” You kiss him quick.

“Bags and Buster are in the car, you ready?”

“Mhm, just need to pee quick. Long drive.”

You waddle down the hall to the bathroom, and Harry waits for you. He goes down the elevator with you and helps you with your things in your office. You liked that the two of you took these sentimental trips. It was the perfect way to celebrate an entire year of marriage. It would also probably be one of your last weekends away as you him, and Buster before Jack comes.

“So, I was thinking we could have dinner in the restaurant tonight, and just relax in the hotel room. Then tomorrow if you felt up to it we could go for a walk on the beach in the morning, and then go to the spa in the afternoon. Get pedicures and all that.”

“Sounds wonderful, baby.” You take his hand and kiss it. “Thanks for planning this. It’s the perfect getaway.”

Harry checks you in while you use the bathroom in the lobby. You get Buster up to the room and give him a biscuit before changing into some dinner clothes.

“Do you think I’ll lose all this baby weight?” You say as you look at yourself in the mirror.

“Hope not.” He pinches your bum and wraps his arms around you from behind. “Kinda like havin’ a little more to hold onto.” He kisses your cheek.

“Harry, stop. I’m all…plump.”

“It looks good on yeh, babe, trust me.” He gives your bum another squeeze and lets you go. “Ready to eat?”

“Yeah, I’m starved. Be a good boy Buster, mummy and daddy’ll leave the TV on for you. We’ll have to take him for a good walk tomorrow.”

“Agreed.”

You two are seated at a table. You remember when you had brunch with everyone the day after the wedding. There was space to dance near the bar, other couples having a good time. When you’re done eating, Harry brings you over to the dance floor and pulls you close. The music was slow and nice.

“My bump’s in the way.” You look down at your stomach and back up at Harry.

“Not at all.” He has you lean your head on his chest, and he dances with you. “See, isn’t this nice?”

“Very.” You nuzzle into him closer. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

After a few songs you both decide it’s time to go upstairs, you had been on your feet all day. You both greet a sleepy Buster and start your nightly routines. You rub some cocoa butter on your belly and get onto the bed. Harry’s routine now involved getting between your legs and talking to Jack. He’d tell him about your days and what he was looking forward to once he was born. He did this every night because sometimes Jack would kick, and Harry loved feeling his kicks. He’d give your belly a ton of kisses and then he’d give you a ton of kisses.

The next morning you put on some leggings and a three-quarter zip fleece, and put your hair up in a cute, messy bun. Harry puts Buster’s leash on and you two head out and down towards the beach. It was a nice spring day out, but you were happy you had your fleece since it was still a bit chilly.

Going for a long walk was good, according to your doctor. Not to mention Harry loved seeing your ass in your leggings. The three of you stop so Harry can take a selfie. Someone sees the three of you and offers to take a photo.

“When we get back tomorrow…” He says as you make your way back to the inn to go to the spa. “I have some things set up for you.”

“Like what?”

“You’ll see.” He grins. “We haven’t done a maternity shoot yet.”

“Oh!” You beam at him. “And you already set it up?”

“Mhm, I didn’t wanna waste any time when we got home.”

“I’m really excited. You’ll be in them too, right?”

“Um, usually the dad isn’t…do you want me to be?”

“Yeah! Definitely.”

He kisses your temple and you head inside. Buster gets a little luxurious experience at the groomer the inn has while you two get pedicures. You nearly pass out in the chair while getting your feet massaged. Harry kept his hand in yours the whole time.

You both decide to order room service for dinner and a little lemon cake for dessert. You take a relaxing bath with him in the Jacuzzi-tub. Once you’re all dry he gets you on the bed. He has you sit in his lap where he knew you’d be most comfortable. He gets his lips on yours and kisses you softly. You lace your hands through his damp curls. He rubs his fingers along your slit before pressing inside you. You groan against his neck as he curls his fingers up. He retracts them and sucks them into his mouth.

“Jesus.” You moan as you line his throbbing tip up with you. You sink down on it and groan. “Babe, what if, what if I’m never this tight again.”

“What?!” His eyes snap to yours. “What would even make you say that right now?”

“I don’t know! I mean, I’m gonna push this kid out of me, and his head is gonna rip me open, and-“

“Baby, baby…” He cups your cheeks. “Listen to me, none of that matters. I don’t care about that.”

“But you’re always saying you love how tight I am, and-“

“I know, and it’s true, it feels really good, but it would feel good with you no matter what because I love you. As long as it’s you, it feels good, okay? Do you believe me? Please, don’t worry about something like that.”

“Okay.”

“You believe me, don’t you?”

“Yes, I believe you.”

“Good.”

He kisses you and your tongues mold together. He grips your ass and helps you move on him. You were at a point where you didn’t have much strength on your own, but this was the only position that worked for you these days. His teeth sink into the crook of your neck and he sucks on you.

“Harry.” You groan.

“I love you so much, Y/N.” He says into your ear as thrusts up into you. “You’re giving me everything I ever wanted and more.” Your nails rakes down his chest and around to his back, sinking in.

“I love you too, thank you for making a mom.” You start tearing up as he fucks up into you faster.

“Jesus, fuck.” He grunts. “You’re gonna be the best mum.” He makes eye contact with you and smirks. “The fuckin’ sexiest mum on the block.”

He snakes a hand between the two of you to rub your clit as fast as he can. You cling to him harder, your body laced with sweat. He had you moaning pretty loud until you let out a breathless gasp as you came.

“Fill me up babe, need to feel it, please.”

“God, I love it when you beg me like that, shit.” He groans and releases inside you. He kisses you before lifting you off of him.

He gets up and grabs a towel to clean you up. Once you’re both all set, you snuggle up and fall asleep.

“Oh wow!” You exclaim when you get into your apartment the next day.

“Happy anniversary, dalin’.” He kisses your cheek.

“This set up looks beautiful! Wait, I have something for you.”

“Y/N.” He sighs. “We said no real gifts.”

“I know, but I couldn’t help myself.” You pout. “I got you a new chain for your cross.” You hand him a box out of your purse. He opens it and smiles.

“It’s beautiful, thank you very much.”

He gives you a quick kiss and changes the chains out quick.

“Okay, go do your hair how you like, and get naked while I set the cameras up, yeah?”

You go into the bathroom and blow out your hair. You put some makeup on as well, and come out in your robe. Harry had his white sheet hung up in the living area, and a fan to blow your hair back.

“Harry…?”

“Yes?”

“Um…my…well…could you help me shave? I don’t want my bush in the pictures. It’s one thing with just you and me, but when I look back on these, and I can’t reach, and-“

“Go stand in the tub, I’ll come in in a second.” He smiles. Harry comes in a few minutes later.

“I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing.”

“It’s not, really.” He shrugs. “You’d do the same for me if I couldn’t reach my balls.” You burst out laughing.

He gets you all shaved after ten somewhat awkward minutes, but you’re grateful to feel fresh and clean.

“Thank you so much, I’m sorry.”

“Please, stop apologizing. I’d do anything for you.” He kisses you. “Now come on, it’s all set up.”

You come back out. He gets the fan going to blow your hair back. He tells you what positions to stand in. He gets some beautiful ones of you from the side. Really holding your bump.

“Don’t people do this wearing clothes too?”

“Oh, sure, but we have plenty of pictures of us like that, don’t we?”

“I suppose that’s true. Take your shirt off now, I want you in the pictures too, remember?”

Harry gets the camera set up on the tripod, and takes his shirt off. He gets on one knee and kisses your belly in one. He stands back up and takes your hands in his. You both lean in to kiss each other. He gets behind you in one, and you both make heart shapes with your hands over your stomach.

“I’ll zoom in on that one, it’ll look really nice for an album cover.” He says. “Look at how beautiful you are.” You put your robe back on and look at his camera.

“Thank you so much, I’m happy we’ll have these memories.”

“And then once Jack’s born, Mariah said she’d do a newborn shoot for us.

“She’s the best, the absolute best.”

You were able to make it through the end of the semester without having the baby in your classroom. You felt grateful that you’d be teaching online sections of courses in the fall so you could stay home with Jack a little longer. Erica had her littler girl, and you waddled into the hospital to say congratulations. She was a beautiful baby, and you were excited that Jack would have a cousin so close in age, other than Michael, to grow up with.

The weather was getting warmer and you were getting more uncomfortable after each day passed. Harry did his best to keep you calm, but you were at a point where everything annoyed you. He had you walking, eating spicy food, and you two were definitely still fucking, but nothing was helping you induce.

You had finally fallen asleep when you felt something wet underneath you. You pull the blankets back and see a huge wet spot. Your eyes grow wide.

“Harry!”

“What?!” He comes bursting through the door, he had stayed up to read in the living room so you could get some sleep.

“I think my water broke!” You beam.

“Oh my god, it’s happening!” He helps you out of the bed and gets you into the sweats you had picked out to go to the hospital in.

“Call my mom, I want her with us, okay? I need her.”

“Okay, once we’re in the car alright?” He smiles. “I need to text Rachel to come by to be with Buster.”

“Alright.”

He gets you into the car, and he calls your mom letting her know you were on your way to Boston Hospital. Luckily, Dr. Johnson was on call for you, and you were told she was on her way. A nurse gets you into a room, and gets you hooked up to whatever you needed to be hooked up to.

“Okay, so you’re not looking for a natural birth, correct?”

“Nope, give me all the drugs.” You laugh.

“We’ll do our best.” She smiles.

Eventually your mom shows up giving you lots of hugs and kisses.

“My little girl, my baby about to have a baby.” She smooths your forehead. “How are you doing, Harry?”

“M’alright, just wish I could take all the pain away. Her contractions have hurt really bad.”

“That’ll happen.” Your mom chuckles. “I’ll go get you some coffee.” She smiles and leaves.

“I’m glad she’s here.” You say to him.

“Me too. Nice to have family here for this.”

“Do me a favor, if the doctor asks you if you want to look while he’s coming out, say no. I do not want you looking. You’ll never get that image out of your mind.”

“Alright, I promise.” Your mom comes back shortly with the coffee.

“Mum, you’ll have to call the cantor for me so we can get Jack circumcised.”

“Of course, I’ll call first thing in the morning. I know he’s been waiting for you to call. And I’m going to have your brother and dad get your crib and everything over to your apartment first thing in the morning as well.”

“Oh, thanks mum.” You feel the sharp pains return to your stomach. “Harry!” You gasp. He rushes to your side to hold your hand.

“Remember to breathe, like in the classes.” He strokes your cheek as you squeeze his hand.

After twelve hours of labor, it was finally time to push. Harry was on one side you and your mom on the other. You had been given the epidural, but everything just felt cramped and uncomfortable. You were screaming and cursing as you pushed.

“You’re almost there, Y/N.” Dr. Johnson encourages you.

Harry thought you were going to break his hand off, and honestly, he felt like he deserved it watching you go through all this. Luckily, you weren’t cursing at him or screaming at him that you’ll never do this again, because honestly, you would. Despite how sick you felt in the first trimester, your pregnancy was relatively easy. You’d turn your love with Harry into another baby in a heartbeat, but he didn’t need to know that right now.

“I can see his head! Give me another good push, Y/N!”

You do ask the doctor says, and you nearly feel like you’re going to faint as she pulls Jack out of you. You weren’t sure, but you had to have torn open, there’s no way you didn’t. You hear the baby cry and a wave of relief sweeps over you. They clean him quick before resting him on you for skin on skin. Harry lets the doctor cut the cord, too afraid he’d mess something up. There were tears in your eyes and Harry’s as well. They let Harry hold Jack skin to skin as well before taking him off to weigh him and clean him up further.

“Do we have a name?” One of the nurses asks.

“Jack Edward Styles.” Harry says. You were too exhausted to speak. He leans in and gives you a kiss on the forehead. Your mother was also at a loss for words.

“He’s beautiful, honey, you did great.”

“Okay, Y/N, we just need to take care of a few things down here, I need to stitch you up.” Dr. Johnson says as she cleans up what she can.

“Oh god.” You groan and you start sobbing.

“Nothing to worry about, happens all the time. His head was a little larger like we thought. Long body too.” You look up at Harry and glare as she stitches you up.

“You and your big head.” You seethe.

“M’sorry, baby, really I am.” He can’t help but smile.

“Alright, all done. The nurses will help you the rest of the way.”

One of them shows you the mesh underwear you’ll be wearing and you grimace. You never felt less attractive in your life. After a little while you’re wheeled into your hospital room where you can relax. Your mom stepped out to go home and change. She said she’d come back during visiting hours. She also wanted to give you and Harry some time to relax. He laid on the bed with you and you rested your head on his chest as you finally slept. You were so fucking tired. It was like your entire body had been tensed up for days and now you could relax.

“Mr. and Mrs. Styles?” A nurse coos as she comes in with Jack. Harry sits up and beams at the baby. “Someone’s hungry, does mommy wanna try to feed?”

“I’ll give it a go.” You say as you try to sit up a little. Harry adjusts your pillows for you. “Ten fingers, ten toes?” You ask the nurse.

“Yes.” She chuckles as she hands him to you. “Perfectly healthy. Almost nine pounds.”

“Good god, you came outta me?” You coo to your new bundle of joy. Harry helps you move the hospital gown out of the way.

“He may not latch on right away, just give him a minute to get acquainted.” The nurse explains.

“I brought a pump with me in case he has trouble. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about breast feeding.” You explain and she nods. “Oh! Look at him go, Harry.” Jack latches on so he can feed.

“Does it hurt, love?”

“Not really, just sort of feels weird. It can tend to hurt, right?” You ask the nurse.

“Yeah, it can. You’ll want to pump so you don’t get sore and tender. For now you’ll be fine since we’ll be bringing him in for his feedings. I’ll leave him with the two of you for a while and come back in an hour or so.” You both thank her before she leaves.

“He’s beautiful, Harry. Can you believe we made him?”

“Absolutely gorgeous. I took your picture when they first put him on you, but I could take a better one now.”

“Please do, I’m all cleaned up now.” He takes his phone out and takes your picture. “What’s your eye color, Jack?” He looks up at you slightly. “Oh! Green, duh.” You laugh.

“Be a bit weird if he didn’t since both of ours are green.”

“My dad’s eyes are brown and my mom’s are green, but my brother ended up with blue eyes. Both of my sisters have brown eyes, and I have green, so literally anything could have happened. I hope he has your curls.”

“Looks like he’ll have your nose, which is nice. Your nose is way cuter than mine, s’like a little button.”

“Oh stop it, I do not have a button nose. His ears look bigger like mine.”

“Seems like he’ll be a good mix of us, huh?”

“We’ll find out once he grows in a bit. I think he’s done.” You hold him up against your shoulder so you can gently burp him, and then you hand him to Harry. “So natural.” You tell him as you smile at your boys.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“For what?”

“Makin’ me a real Daddy. I know we have Buster and all, but this…” You lean in and kiss Jack’s head.

“Mm, he smells so good, smell his head.” You giggle. “He’s got that new baby smell.” Harry dips his head slightly and he smiles as he smells his child.

“He does smell good.” He chuckles.

A nurse comes in for you a little while later.

“Time to go to the bathroom, Y/N.” She sighs.

“No, please don’t make me.” You whine. “It’s going to hurt.”

“I know, but we need to have you try. I’ll be right in there with you.”

“Oh, wonderful.” You roll your eyes.

“Go on, honey, I’m sure you need to go with all the fluids you’ve been given.”

The nurse helps you onto your feet and you cringe as you take a step. You look back at Harry and he gives you an encouraging smile. It broke his heart to see you like this. He knew in a few months you’d be perfectly fine, but right now he knew you were in a ton of pain, and he hated it. The nurse helps you use the toilet, and you swore at her up and down, then you apologized of course. She helps you back in the bed afterwards.

“Okay…so the next time I come to help you use the bathroom, you’re going to hate me even more.”

“Why?” You ask, taking Jack back from Harry.

“You need to try to have a BM.” Your eyes widen. You had read up on this, and you weren’t looking forward to it. “We need to make sure you stitches don’t rip open and get cleaned properly. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?”

“Please, take your time.” You tell her as she leaves. “That’s going to suck.”

Nurses continued to come in and out to check on you and Jack. They took him away for a while to let you and Harry rest. Harry had let everyone know to just come to visiting hours tomorrow. You needed more time to recover, and you really didn’t want to see everyone just yet. Your BM was painful to say the least, but you got through it.

“It’ll get easier, Y/N.” The nurse says. As you lay down in the bed she braces you for something much more painful. “You may want to hold your husband’s hand for this. I have to give your stomach a massage, and it’s going to hurt.”

“Wonderful.” You take a breath. “Ow! What the fuck?!” You squeeze Harry’s hand.

“I’m so sorry, I’m checking to make sure there’s no internal bleeding or air pockets.”

“This is worse than giving birth, I swear to god.” You grit your teeth.

“Okay, all done.” She smiles. “Take some time to rest. We’ll bring the baby in for another feeding soon.”

“Alright? Want some ice chips?”

“No, because then I’ll need to pee again.” You pout.

“Y/N.” He sighs and hands you the cup of ice chips.

“It burns, Harry. It’s terrible.”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’ll get better soon, this is the hardest part.” He strokes your cheek. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You pucker your lips and kiss him.

The next day people trickle in during the different visiting hours. Your family came first and took turns holding the baby. Your friends came in the afternoon, many of them shedding tears. It was wonderful to have so many people around.

Harry had made sure to take time off from work to be home with you. Not necessarily a paternity leave, though. He told you he’d take two weeks off form going to the studio, and then he’d do half days or every other day from there. He promised he wouldn’t work weekends as well. You knew he had to work to make the money you both needed. You had a good paycheck from the school, but you weren’t working this summer, so that extra cash was nonexistent.

You were grateful your dad and brother were able to set up the nursery the rest of the way for you. Everything was in its place. You and Harry agreed Anne and Gemma, and Nannie, could fly in, in a month or so to come meet Jack. You just needed some time to adjust and heal before you started having a ton of visitors.

You and Harry couldn’t help but laugh when he helped you set up the breast pump. It was extremely awkward, but you couldn’t figure out how to do it yourself. You also needed his help going to the bathroom at various points, also extremely awkward and embarrassing, but that was marriage. You were grateful for him.

Buster took a liking to Jack right away. You knew they’d be great buddies. You and Harry barely got any sleep the first couple weeks, which was to be expected. You constantly needed to feed Jack. He was a big boy, and he was hungry.

“Why are you crying?” Harry sighs as he comes into the nursery to see what’s going on.

“Because.” You sniffle. “Because what if my breast milk doesn’t have enough stuff in it and that’s why he’s so hungry? I know nothing’s wrong with formula, but like, I’m his mother, and I can’t even give him what he needs.” You sob.

“Okay, okay.” Harry takes Jack and the bottle from you to continue feeding him. You wipe your tears. It was hard to be sad whenever you’d see Harry effortlessly hold your child. “You are giving him what he needs. He’s just…large.” He chuckles. “He’s hungry a little more. I was talkin’ to Lou, and he said Freddie was the same way. Constantly hungry, and Bri used breastmilk. You’re makin’ plenty of it. If you were havin’ trouble producing, I’d say yeah let’s switch to formula, but I think we’re fine.”

“What am I gonna do when you go back to work.” You tear up again.

“Your mum’s comin’ to be with you, remember? She’ll be here when I can’t be. Believe me, I’d rather be here with you.”

“I know, I don’t mean to make you feel bad. You just always know how to calm me down.”

“Luckily your mum’s done this four times, so she’ll know what to do too.” He smiles. He turns Jack over to burp him. “Here, wanna rock him to sleep? I’m gonna take Buster out quick.”

“Okay.” He hands him back to you. You rock him slowly and set him down in his crib. “Mummy loves you very much, Jack.” You coo as you leave the room.

You go out to the living room to sit on the couch. Buster comes trotting in and sits at your feet. You pat the top of his head, and Harry comes to sit next to you. He puts an arm around you and pulls you in close.

“Love you so much.” He kisses your hairline.

“I love you too.”

You were never so thankful to have friends who didn’t work in the summer in your life. Your mom was a big help, but she was also trying to help out Erica. Sarah and Rachel came over often to hang out and make sure you weren’t bored to shit while Jack napped. They’d go out for walks with you while he was strapped to your chest.

“You look great, Y/N.” Sarah says.

“Seriously, Y/N, it’s been what? A month? Barely even have a tummy anymore.” Rachel says.

“Oh stop it.” You shake your head at them as you walk down the street. “I’ve just simply deflated. Dr. Johnson said I could start doing more cardio next month, do some strength training too, but for now she just wants me walking.”

“Having that little guy strapped to you has to be some kind of strength training.” Sarah smirks.

“You have no idea! He looks tiny, but he gets heavy after a while.”

“When do you think you guys will do your newborn shoot?”

“Probably next month once I feel a little more comfortable being photographed. Oh! You guys should see the album we put together from the maternity shoot, the pictures came out so nice. I had a couple framed and put into Jack’s room.”

“Definitely! How’s Harry been with going back to work?” Rachel says.

“He feels guilty, and like he’s missing out on things. I’ve brought Jack to the studio a couple of times, but I think it makes it worse for him. That’s why Buster’s been going to work with him. He’s such a good dad, not that I ever doubted he would be. It’s never a contest, like he’s just always jumping into help.”

“That’s what he’s supposed to do. He’s a dad, not a babysitter.” Sarah points out.

“Exactly.”

“Do you feel like you’ve had any post-partum stuff?” Rachel asks.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not doing enough? Like when I feed him and he gets hungry again almost immediately after, I feel like I’m not giving him what he needs. But Harry seems to think he’s just genuinely hungry. I’m excited for Anne and Gemma to come visit soon, and I think Nannie’s gonna come up in August.”

“That’s great! It must be difficult knowing you have a grandchild so far away.”

“Since Anne’s retired, Harry was saying she might rent a small studio and stay here for a while longer this summer to be with Jack, and to help us out a bit. I’m all for it, she’s the best, and it would take some pressure offer my mom. I know she’s trying to balance out time with Jack and Melissa.”

“Oh yeah, how’s she doing?”

“Good! Erica’s kind of dealing with the same things as I am. Although, she went right to formula instead of breastfeeding.” You shrug.

“Do you think you’ll ever put your piercings back in?”

“The second my stomach goes back to normal, that’s going back in for sure, but my nipples I’m not so sure about. If I get pregnant again I’ll just need to take them out, it was really annoying. I’m fine with just my nose for now.”

You were grateful your friends didn’t mind talking about this stuff, and even more grateful they were checking in on your mental state. You were the luckiest person in the world.

#harry styles #my everything #take it slow sequel #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #GET THE TISSUES #i love this part and the next few a lot #pls tage if you reblog #come hang out in my ask box!

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years ago

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 4.8}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.6k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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It was the middle of April when Robin finished the very last of Snape's book collection. The day she returned the very last book to him was both a sad and an exciting one, for Robin wasn't entirely sure what he would give her to do next. To her disappointment, he merely remarked that she had read everything he could give her at the present time, and then continued with his work as if it was nothing special. Maybe it wasn't… but somehow Robin had hoped for a little praise at least, if not a prospect of what to do next. Thus she stuck to doing class assignments and readings for a while (she managed half a week, which was already more than anticipated), until at last she just couldn't handle the lack of private studies anymore.

She had already finished most of the library books about potions, herbology, and magical creatures, which is why she decided to find a new topic to read up on rather than trying to find more books on the topics she already had studied profoundly. Thus she started reading all the books about the dark arts the library had to offer, but more out of interest in the mysteries that hid behind the generic title than out of preference for the correlating class. And really, it was a weirdly broad topic. Everything that wasn't allowed or was dangerous to use fell into this category, but more often than not Robin wondered why exactly something was considered 'forbidden' or at least unappreciated to use. Sure, most of the things described in her newest reads were potentially harmful for someone involved, but honestly, so were kitchen knives, or golf clubs, or cars. And nobody bothered forbidding them either.

That's the only revelation she's had by the time exams rolled around, and the exact point where she found herself stuck at now as she sat in the potions classroom like always, on a Friday evening in the second week of June. Not even a week before she would have to go back to her parents' house for the summer.

"Do you have a minute?" Robin asked as she looked over at Snape to her right with an inquiring expression. Some time in March she had started sitting at the side table next to his desk rather than at her usual seat in the students' rows when she came here for coffee and work at night. Admittedly, she'd occasionally been sitting there way before March already, whenever students were in the classroom for detention, but somehow after one particularly detention-heavy week in March, she hadn't bothered going back to her original seat, and he hadn't bothered asking her to. That's how she came to sit at the table next to his desk permanently now, in the evenings at least.

"Of course. I wanted to talk to you about a certain issue anyway, but feel free to start." He replied and closed the book he'd been reading for the last hour to meet Robin's gaze.

"You probably noticed that I've been reading up on the whole 'dark arts' thing over the last weeks, except for the week studying for my exams that is, and well… I just don't understand why there is such a thing as dark arts in the first place." Robin shrugged and closed her own book as well. "It's just more spells that happen to be a tad more dangerous than others. But the danger is just a potential, isn't it? I mean… the magic isn't good or bad in itself, it's the person using it who determines that. And calling it 'dark magic' is kind of taking the responsibility of making this choice from the witch or wizard who makes it."

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"I mean…" She sighed and paused for a second to think of a good example. "Take a kitchen knife, for example. It's just a tool in itself, and only because some people use it to stab others doesn't make it inherently bad, nor do the people who use it to chop vegetables make it an inherently good thing. It has the potential to be both, and if one isn't aware of that, there always is a danger in its use."

"I agree."

"So why do we learn in school that there is good magic and bad magic? Why don't we learn to work with the responsibility of dealing with a neutral magic that leaves it entirely up to us how to use it?" That was the actual question Robin had been meaning to ask, but it had taken a while to find a way to phrase it.

"Because it is easier to keep people on a predetermined path if you map it out in front of them. Tell them what you think is good by giving them something that is bad in contrast, and the majority will let it guide them according to your very wish. That is how politics work, and as despicable as it is, the school is a political issue no matter what the headmaster says. Also, the dunderheads we teach couldn't deal with such a responsibility."

"That doesn't sound like an answer a professor would normally give." Robin smiled in amusement at his last comment.

"Your questions aren't something a student would normally ask." He returned with a shrug and an expression that made Robin chuckle.

"I guess you're right about that. And I do see your point. Thanks for the honest answer." She sighed and felt like he was probably right. What is taught and what isn't was all politics… and that meant it didn't always make sense. Huh, what a sad end for her private studies of the mysterious dark arts.

"Of course I'm honest with you, there would be no point in anything else."

"So… what issue did you want to talk about?" Robin inquired a few seconds later and tried not to showcase her curiosity all too much.

"There have been rumors for a while now…" He started, and Robin grew nervous immediately. Rumors were always bad, and somehow she always seemed to be entirely oblivious to them. Most of them at least.

"If it's that one that I failed transfiguration, that is entirely made up! I got an 'Exceeds Expectations' on this year's exam, and McGonagall was merely making a joke when she said she would give me a 'Dreadful' if I kept going over the maximum essay length!" Robin blurted out before Snape even had a chance to continue with what he meant to say.

"That is a rumor I have been entirely unaware of, but seeing as I know of your grades, it is also entirely irrelevant." He replied with a doubtful expression. "Is that the only rumor you have heard of?"

"Well, yeah…" Robin shrugged and looked down at her table as she bit her bottom lip. "Recently, yes." Maybe she shouldn't be so exclusively concerned about her own issues and actually start taking notice of the real world more often.

"There has been talk for a good two weeks about an unofficial end of term celebration. A party, hosted by a group of sixth years for the entire house and whoever is invited. Obviously the professors are not to know of this happening, but I like to pay attention to the ongoings within the student community. You don't happen to know anything more about the issue, do you?" His eyebrows rose in question, and for some reason Robin felt as if he seriously expected her to know what he was talking about.

A Slytherin party everyone was invited to… well, everyone except for Robin as it seemed. She didn't usually care about these things, but somehow it hurt a little nonetheless that absolutely nobody had bothered inviting her. Did her roommates know about this? Or were the first years generally excluded? She had absolutely no idea, she hadn't even heard of it at all. Hell, even Snape knew more about it than she did! A burning shame with a hollowing tail of pathetic sadness crept from the pit of her stomach up to her heart and wrapped it in a veil of unwanted shadows.

"I… didn't even know there was a party at all. This is the first time I hear about it." She finally managed to reply, but her voice was way too quiet for her own liking. Really, this shouldn't even be bothering her! "I would tell you if I knew anything about it, I promise. I'm sorry…"

For a moment, Snape actually looked fairly uncomfortable upon her words, and Robin wondered if she had said anything stupid yet again. But she had no idea what it could be, and therefore she simply looked down at her book in silence. She would like to help him, really… but there was little she could do now.

"Do you even speak to the people in your year at all?" He asked after a moment, honestly inquiring rather than scolding her.

"I do talk to Theresa usually…" Robin shrugged. "Only about class issues though. Some other people outside of my own house too. But the only students in Slytherins I talk to are Cas and Jorien, and while they're both extraordinarily bright and truly lovely girls, they're far from being familiars to me. Maybe they know more about the party than I do though. I could ask them, if you would like."

"There will be no need for that. I was hoping you knew about it, but otherwise I have no intention to intervene."

"You don't?" Robin looked up with a frown. "But aren't they breaking a bunch of rules?"

"I would assume so. However as long as they stay within the castle and do not wander… I usually ignore occurrences like this."

"Why?"

"Because there isn't even half a week of term left, and I would rather spend that in peace and quiet than with fifty students in detention. As long as they do not cause or suffer any harm, I let them proceed and get it over with."

"Then why did you ask me about it in the first place?"

"I was wondering what kept you from attending, seeing as you still were here and not on your way. And I was curious about the specifics of the event, which I unfortunately have not had the luck to overhear."

"Even if I had known about this stupid party, I probably wouldn't have gone anyway." Robin shrugged with a badly feigned indifference. "I'm no fan of those events, nor would I have been appreciated there as it seems."

"Then why does it upset you that you were previously unaware of it?"

"I'm not upset." Robin shot right back, but upon his 'who are you kidding' expression, she rolled her eyes and gave a truthful response. "I mean… yes, I'm inattentive to these things sometimes, as I don't particularly care about the students' world, but if even the professors know about this stupid party… I just can't imagine that I merely missed the talk about it, which obviously has been going on if you could overhear it. Which in return means that I was intentionally excluded. That's just… I don't know. I shouldn't be upset about it, I don't even like these people. It's unreasonable to be sad about it."

"Emotions usually are unreasonable." He mused in return and Robin found herself nodding on instinct. Emotions are unreasonable, but they are an unavoidable pain in the butt nonetheless.

"So… that party is tonight?" Robin asked then, for she didn't know what else to say.

"It should be happening right now, however I am unaware of the specific location. You are intelligent though, certainly you could find out where it takes place."

"Oh, I wasn't asking because of that. I know when I'm not welcome. And as I said, I don't care about parties. Or crowds. Or other people. I'm quite happy with the company I have." She stated and hoped that it wouldn't make him uncomfortable again, but he just listened to her words with the usual undivided attention, which brought a small smile to Robin's lips as she added, "The only thing I miss is the-..."

"Music?"

"Yes!" Her smile widened to a visible degree where it reached her eyes as well. "How did you know?"

He didn't reply, and only kept looking at Robin for a moment in silence accompanied by an expression of contemplation. Finally he turned away, and stood up. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Robin frowned as she complied though and followed Snape out of the classroom, which he locked behind them before heading down the hallway.

"You will see." Was the only and very much cryptic reply he gave, and somehow Robin didn't feel as much nervous about the situation as purely excited. She didn't bother hiding her smirk, and only ignored the renewing waves of pleasant tingles on her skin as she followed him up the stairs and through the empty castle.

They passed by any location Robin could've imagined Snape to lead her to, and only moved from one story up to the next until they arrived on the seventh floor. What the hell was he up to? Robin didn't have an inkling, and only grew even more confused when he told her to stay standing in the middle of a random crossing of hallways. But she obeyed without questioning him (he wouldn't have given an answer anyway) and stood frozen to the spot as she watched with a humored frown on her face how he paced up and down the hallway in front of her. Upon her chuckles however, she received a small glare that made her bite the insides of her cheeks to keep from straight out laughing. Whatever he was doing, it was both irritating and amusing.

Both sentiments faded from Robin's mind in a moment's notice however once a large door started materializing in the very wall she stood facing. It was almost as large as the one leading to the great hall, but undoubtedly more ornamented, and Robin's lips parted as she stared at the unusual occurrence in awe.

"After you." He said in manner that for him was unusually smug, and Robin's heart skipped a beat as she moved to open the door indeed.

What lay beyond it was undoubtedly the most peculiar and yet the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. A room larger than she could fathom currently, larger than she ever would've imagined to be found inside this castle, filled with mountains upon mountains of various objects stacked upon each other in complete randomness. The things found in here were absolutely overwhelming in their incredible amount and diversity, and Robin didn't even know where to look first as she stood helplessly frozen in the doorway. It was rather overwhelming indeed.

"Welcome to the room of requirement, or in this instance, the room of hidden things." Snape said in a more quiet tone now, as he steered Robin further into the room by her shoulders so that he could close the door behind them.

"What on earth is this?" Robin wondered as she let her eyes travel over the mountains of objects. There was one of everything in existence in here, she was absolutely sure of that. Maybe she was just dreaming all of this. She didn't care to wake up though.

"A mystery, and a secret. The room of requirement is a peculiar piece of magic, as it turns into whatever someone needs the most in the instant. It can be made to appear in the way you just witnessed, by having a clear picture of what it is one needs in mind. The room of hidden things is one of the countless forms the room of requirement can take on, and it has been used to hide and store any kind of thing for centuries."

"It's absolutely incredible, it's…" Robin replied quietly, too awestruck to even bother hiding the sentiment, and finally unfroze enough to saunter through the mountains of things. "Something so entirely impossible that it just has to exist."

"Indeed. It is almost impossible to find by accident, and the vast majority of people is unaware of the existence of this room in the first place. I would like for it to remain that way."

"I won't lose a word about it. I promise." Robin finally could tear her eyes off the room to look at Snape once more. "Why did you bring me here though? If it's such a secret, why take the risk?"

"You are no risk, I am well aware of that." He replied easily, and Robin felt an immediate sense of pride in that. "I brought you here because in a place where there is everything, there is always what you are looking for."

Before Robin could ask what exactly he meant by that, he spoke a few more muttered words and then the deep silence of the huge hall was replaced by a crackle, and finally by the sound of music. Robin looked around to find a possible origin of it, but the source remained hidden from her sight. The sound alone sufficed to brighten her smile though, and she closed her eyes to simply listen in contentment. It had been so long since she had gotten to enjoy music without the disturbing sounds of people talking or dancing or moving… and music at Hogwarts generally was scarce anyway. So now, for a long while, she simply stood there in between the mountains of fascinating things with her eyes closed and let the sound wrap around her senses. She breathed in the music like the cold air of the night that didn't exist in here, for time wasn't a dimension of relevance in this place. Everything about this room was timeless, ancient and modern at once, and Robin felt like she had entered a different reality beyond the limits of imagination. An impossible reality indeed.

It was one of those rare moments where she felt flooded and filled up by an infinite number of highly intense emotions that blended together like colors to form a blinding white light. A moment where an unimaginable intensity of feeling didn't cause her to implode into darkness but to explode into blissful light. A moment she wouldn't forget. At last she opened her eyes again, and found that Snape was looking at her with a doubtful expression yet again.

"What?" She asked with a smile, frowning at him in return.

"Are you alright?"

"Are you concerned?"

"Yes."

"Wow… good to know that me being happy is such a scary sight." Robin let out a laugh she couldn't help and shook her head to herself. "Sorry, sarcasm isn't an appropriate answer to honesty. I'm very alright, actually. As close to perfect as I could be, I believe. Thank you for that."

"Get over it already, will you... It was merely music and a dusty old room, hardly something to be so very delighted about."

"You cannot seriously deny that you did something nice by bringing me here. It's not even possible to deny!" Robin laughed again and didn't even care if he scolded her for it.

"I can try." He replied with a glare and a scowl, and Robin smiled to herself as she looked down at the ground in a defeat as feigned as his distaste. Maybe she should help him with the trying.

"So, if you didn't bring me here to be nice, what did you hope to find in here then? Maybe I could help looking for it." She suggested with an innocent smile she actually could convey for once, even if only due to the fact that she would seriously love to have a look around.

"I shall see to that myself. Go ahead and look around if you wish to though, but I ask you to be careful and not to touch anything. Many of the objects in here are more harmful than they look."

"Well, if something happens to me, you could just leave my body in here and nobody will ever find it. Problem solved." Robin shrugged with a nonchalant expression, but a smirk came onto her lips nonetheless as Snape rolled his eyes in return.

"If you keep sassing me, I might actually consider that." He replied and turned to walk off without another glance, and Robin's jaw dropped in sheer amusement. Then, with the biggest grin on her face, she went to take a look around at last.

… … …

It was after almost an hour of searching through stuff by herself that Robin found something that made her stop and stare. Not because it was particularly noticeable or interesting in itself, but because it existed in the first place. That was odd enough to give Robin some serious chills. Maybe she should tell Snape about it… or better yet, show him. Because nobody would believe it otherwise.

"Uh, professor?" She called into the open room in the hopes that he would hear her, wherever he might be. "I… found something you should take a look at."

"Is it urgent or merely interesting?" He asked from somewhere off to the left, and Robin thought for a second.

"Well, urgent is the wrong word, but I don't think I want to leave this room without you seeing this. It's… remarkable." She finally replied with an insecure frown to herself, and at the object in question.

"Could you be even more imprecise than that?" He sounded annoyed, but was getting closer at least.

"It's no threat, if that's what you mean. Just… eerie." She finished the statement in a tone too quiet to be heard far, but a mere few seconds later he was standing next to her already.

"Now, what is so remarkable that I needed to see it?" He sighed with a look at Robin instead of the pile she stood in front of, but his eyes followed her line of sight even before she could answer his question and he froze at the sight just like Robin had. "That… is remarkable indeed."

"Told you so." She replied before she could decide better not to, but he let it slip anyway.

What they were both looking at now was a large, framed, but unmoving portrait. A portrait of a young woman who looked exactly like Robin, only perhaps a few years older. But the similarity was undeniable.

"Did you touch it?"

"Of course not!" Robin protested immediately. "I actually do take advice when I deem it useful!"

"Did anything else happen that might be considered unusual?"

"No… I was just looking at all the things, and then I saw this. Nothing moved, or glowed, or changed or whatever it could have done. A perfectly ordinary painting." She shrugged and finally averted her eyes from the image.

"Perhaps it is only a coincidence. Over the course of the centuries there surely have been a few people who look like you." He tried to reason, but also didn't sound too convinced about what he was saying.

"That would explain the similarity between her and me. But then how do you explain this?" Robin asked quietly, and pulled her necklace with the locket on it over the collar of her shirt into the open. "Look what she's wearing around her neck… A different necklace, admittedly, but the locket is the very same as mine."

For another two seconds he inspected the painting, then stepped so close to Robin that he could take the small piece of jewelry out of her hand and study it with the same intense gaze. Bloody hell… she would've taken the necklace off if he had just given her a moment longer to do so. Instead, he now stood so close that every single sense of hers was heightened to the unbearable. Hopefully he couldn't hear the ridiculous pace of her heart as it almost leapt out of her chest with every beat… if he did, she might just have to blame it on her scary similarity to the painting.

Somehow, the more she tried to ignore these things, the feelings and tingles and thoughts, the stronger they came lashing back at her in the end. It really was unfair. She didn't want to like him so much… and she didn't want to enjoy it. Hopefully this stupid teenage-crush thing would be over soon; she's had enough after a full year of repressing it.

"You have had this for a while, haven't you?" He finally spoke up again before he looked Robin in the eye for a few silent seconds, then dropped the locket and took a few steps backwards.

"What?" Robin's mind was in a minor haze, and she needed a second to remember how to breathe. Gods, this was ridiculous. It was torture and bliss at the same time. Maybe she could blame it on hormones, or something likely unlikely.

"The locket has been in your possession for how long?" He repeated, but without the feigned annoyance Robin had expected.

"I… bought it in an antiquity shop in Diagon Alley during the Christmas break of my first year here. That would be three and a half years ago." She finally got her brain to work again, and shook the unnecessary feelings out of her otherwise functioning system.

"And you have been wearing it ever since?"

"Yes."

"Anything unusual?"

"No. Not at all. I put the same charm on it as on my backpack though, but it has never caused me any problems." Robin shrugged with a calm expression. "Do you think this portrait is anything more than just a big coincidence?"

"I have no idea. But I have seen coincidences far stranger than this one, so it is very much possible that it is nothing more."

"I mean… last year, when we made that potion to see which spells had affected me, there was no influence of another kind on me other than that prank thing, right? So this shouldn't be affecting me, seeing as I've had the locket for far longer than that."

"I hadn't considered that, but I do agree. Perhaps it is merely a coincidence. Still, I-..."

"You expect me to tell you immediately when or if something odd occurs." Robin added before he could.

"Indeed." He replied with a small glare in return, but Robin didn't let it fool her at all as they left the portrait where it was and made their way back towards the doorway back into the real world.

"Did you find what you were looking for, by the way? The reason we came here?" She asked with a new smile, looking up at Snape once they stepped through the doors and into the dark hallway.

For a moment he simply returned her gaze in silence, giving her one of those enigmatic looks that said everything and nothing at once, until he finally replied with words once they started making their way back towards the dungeons. "Yes, I believe I did."

And yet, he hadn't taken a single thing out of the room he hadn't brought there himself in the first place; it was only Robin, and the very smile on her lips.

______________________________

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be11atrixthestrange · 4 years ago

Text

Step 11: Understanding Each Other

From 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Hermione Granger

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

Understanding Each Other

At this point, you've probably known each other for a while, and have likely both witnessed her growth and experienced your own. You won't doubt that the task of understanding her is a complicated one. Although you will never truly know her, as everyone is constantly changing, it is important to try, and to let your efforts show.

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

Ron smiled down at the book, appreciating its throwback to the first chapter, Getting To Know Her. At first, Ron wouldn't have spotted a difference between the two steps, but now he could. He finally understood Hermione enough to know that she would always be full of mysteries to him.

In the past, unsolvable mysteries never intrigued Ron. Most subjects would start to frustrate him upon realizing he'd never truly understand them. He didn't see the point of pouring all his efforts into studying things that were constantly changing. Hermione was an exception of course. He used to consider the task of "getting to know her" to be a goal, a destination, but in reality, it was a never-ending adventure, one that proved that maybe there were some topics that could hold his interest no matter how vast.

Ever since he accepted that Hermione was someone he'd never fully understand, he began to enjoy the journey of trying, regardless of the outcome. Not only did Hermione-as-a-subject pique his interest, but her own inquisitiveness toward other unknowable things was contagious. Over the years of being with her, he had adopted a similar curiosity for the world around him. He developed an appreciation for its expansiveness, which included everything from stories and books, to science and nature, to government and politics, and of course, other people. The world really was a fascinating place, and he had Hermione to thank for that realization.

There was no one he wanted to share life's mysteries with more than Hermione. With her by his side, he felt like he could take on anything, which is why he couldn't wait to drop to one knee and ask her to continue the journey of life with him.

After receiving Jean and Hugo's blessing in Australia, it didn't take long for him to purchase a ring, and elicit Ginny and Harry's help forming an elaborate proposal plan. Over time, it had turned into something he was quite proud of. Not only did it incorporate her obsession with books, her thirst for adventure, and her love of riddles and problem-solving, it also offered her some insight into his own mind, something she'd long ago admitted she'd never understand, but she'd die trying.

He'd even arranged for Jean and Hugo to stay at the Burrow, which is where— if all went according to plan— they would enjoy a celebratory dinner as a newly engaged couple. In fact, her parents were already there. Ron had picked them up from the airport while Hermione was at work, taken them out for lunch, and dropped them off at the Burrow where Molly and Arthur took over entertaining them. Ron smiled at the memory of his dad's excited yelp upon learning that they'd be hosting muggles for a short stay. Arthur, who did not fully understand muggles, never missed an opportunity to learn as much as he could about them.

Jean and Hugo shared a similar fascination with everything magical at the Burrow. They were full of questions when they noticed household spells working in the background to keep laundry clean, wash dishes, even knit baby clothes for the grandchildren. Ron heard them both wonder aloud why Ron and Hermione never performed magic around them anymore. It seemed that their previous aversion to magic was likely just a fear of the unknown— a distrust that Hermione had accidentally instilled alongside her memory charms. By now it had faded into curiosity, and Ron realized that their commitment to keeping her magic hidden around her parents might be rooted in misunderstanding.

As Ron's curiosity grew over the years, he had started noticing it in other people. It appeared as Arthur's constant quest for information about the muggle world, Molly's incessant questions about Jean and Hugo's lives in Australia, and their equally enthusiastic inquiries about the Burrow. He had even noticed it in Harry, who after the war, found immense joy in life's small pleasures. With the stress of being The Chosen One a staple of his past, he seemed committed to enjoying the simplicity of finally being normal. Ron noticed more than curiosity. He noticed there was an openness, optimism, and enthusiasm for life that he now shared with others. Part of it was surely Hermione's thirst for knowledge rubbing off on him, but now that he was surrounded by people in love, he wondered how much his own happiness contributed.

Just maybe, the next day, everything would go according to his plan. If so, Hermione would conclude the day with a fresh stack of new books, a thoroughly exhausted mind, an engagement ring, and a fiance.

But of course, the world had a way of telling its own story. Years ago, that fact would have terrified him, but today it made him smile. If he could pick one lesson he'd learned from life thus far, it was that some of the best stories were born from the unexpected. Like snow on a warm window, he felt his anxieties about the perfect plan start to melt away, suddenly offering him a sense of reassuring clarity. Maybe being in love had made him naively optimistic, but he preferred to think that the last few years with Hermione had proved that the universe could also make perfect plans.

Whether his proposal was perfect, a complete disaster, or something in between ultimately didn't matter. He grinned at Hermione sleeping soundly beside him and just knew that whatever happened tomorrow would be brilliant. He was no longer nervous, but interested, excited, and of course, curious.

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

It didn't take long for Ron and Hermione to get used to living together. They fell into a comfortable rhythm in no time— maybe too comfortable of a rhythm— which occasionally meant functioning on autopilot.

They discovered that the most effective way to re-engage each other was to argue. Ron and Hermione were professionals at fighting— in fact they had hardly gone a year at Hogwarts without an epic relationship-defining row. During their first year, it was The Troll Incident which ironically began their friendship by luring Hermione into the bathroom to cry, and motivating Ron to set aside his grievances to admit he'd rather she'd not die. They credit their lack of fighting in their second year to the fact that Hermione was petrified for most of it. If she hadn't been, who knows what would have happened, and it's probably best not to think about it too much.

Their third year was marked by the Scabbers Versus Crookshanks Debacle, and they fondly referred to their fourth year as The Year That Ron Realized Hermione Was A Girl. They got through fifth year on a fragile agreement to put up a unified front for Harry, who was (to put it gently) having a really hard time, and neither could forget the casualties of their four-month estrangement in year six, or the fact that Riddle's locket had briefly severed their bond during the war.

Over time, these arguments taught Ron and Hermione a lot about each other, and even as adults-in-love, they continued to put that knowledge to use. Ron understood which buttons to press, and he always knew exactly where the line was. Like everything else that he'd learned through his years, discovering how far he could push her took trial, error and a few more relationship-defining fights.

Ron still shudders when he remembers the Great Christmas Fight Of 1999, which they now nostalgically call the "GCF". It was their first Christmas after moving in together, and at this point Ron can't even recall what started that fight. It could have been about their travel plans, or Hermione bringing work home, or the fact that Ron wanted to extend the Garden-Gnome-On-The-Christmas-Tree tradition to their own flat, but whatever it was, it opened pandora's box.

Whatever sparked the fight was just the tip of a large and treacherous iceberg. It's how Hermione and Ron learned that six months of living together without any fire wasn't natural for them. Until that day, they had been burying every minor annoyance to keep the peace between them, and thanks to the GCF, it all came spilling out in a flaming explosion of crying and yelling.

As it turned out, six months of "smooth sailing" was really six months of Ron squeezing the toothpaste bottle from the top instead of the bottom, drinking juice straight from the carton, and forgetting to take his shoes off at the front door, leaving muddy footprints everywhere, and making their flat looking like the Marauder's Map. It was six months of Hermione losing track of time and coming home from work late, constantly "re-organizing" drawers and cabinets so that Ron could never find anything, and meddling into his job as if his Auror missions were school assignments, and she was smarter than him.

He finally informed her of all those little annoying things she did— and in turn, learned that she had her own list of grievances about him. The GCF might have started with something small and unremarkable, but it ended with Ron feeling like she was watching him, taking notes of every small infraction so she could later use it in combat. Looking back, he was doing the exact same thing to her, but he didn't see it that way. Instead, the fight continued while he spent an entire defiant week at Grimmauld Place trying to prove Hermione wrong about everything.

It was a step too far. His estrangement was only supposed to last one night, but it dragged on for that whole week. Ron and Hermione are two of the most stubborn, determined, and obstinate people that ever managed to come together, and neither wanted to be the one to admit their fault.

Luckily, they learned from it. The GCF is what made the line that should not be crossed crystal-clear. It taught Ron that angrily leaving reminded her of the lowest point of their relationship, and left her with little emotional currency to spend on effective mediation. After that fight, Hermione stopped baiting Ron into dangerous waters, because it never resulted in satisfaction. All it did was rub his insecurities about not being good enough in his face, and the more he believed them, the more inevitable a disastrous break-up felt. When the stakes were lower, his fighting became dirtier. It reminded them both that effective arguing meant finding solutions to their conflicts, instead of getting distracted by their hurt pride and completely forgetting how the argument started in the first place.

Most importantly, it showed them that fighting would always be part of their dynamic, and bottling up their feelings just ignited a time bomb. They've never had a repeat of the Great Christmas Fight of 1999, but they came close a few times. They fought in a way that resembled controlled burns, engaging in regular arguments that cleared any flammable ammunition that could accidentally burn their relationship to the ground if left ignored.

They simply loved bickering too much. It kept things interesting. Ron loved Hermione for her passion, and Hermione loved Ron for his sharp wit, so there really wasn't a better way for them to remind each other of the qualities they fell for. But thanks to the GCF, Ron knew where to draw the line, and Hermione understood what topics to avoid, and they argued in a raging peace that outsiders would never understand.

Fighting became another way to show their love for one another. They would yell, scream, and shout things that made others cringe and slink awkwardly out of the room to place bets on their break-up. What those others didn't understand was that these fights were how they demonstrated their knowledge of each others' boundaries. It provided them an opportunity to honor their limits, and paved the way for them to fall even more in love with each other.

Her boundaries were different when she was sick. When his normal level of playful antagonism suddenly became too much for her to handle, he knew to reel it in. It wasn't just a result of colds and the flu, but a monthly occurrence. Her tolerance for her annoying boyfriend would drop below its normal baseline for a few days, which warned him to tone down his pestering. It also served as a reminder to stock up on pain potion and practice his warming spells so he could help make her more comfortable. He would never understand the experience of period cramps, but he could do his very best to help her get through them.

Of course, Ron didn't just use arguing or illness to show Hermione how much he knew about her. His careful observation of Hermione over the years meant that he no longer cooked with fennel, he had an ever-expanding mental list of her favorite wines, and his birthday and Christmas presents had evolved from unusual-smelling perfumes to books she hasn't read yet, tickets to stage productions, or mentally challenging activities, like personalized scavenger hunts that engaged her strong desire to solve puzzles and answer riddles.

His favorite place to apply his hard-earned understanding of Hermione was in the bedroom. The solid, trusting foundation they had built paved the way for them to gently expand each other's boundaries. In a way, sex mirrored fighting, because they understood how to challenge each other and keep it interesting, while also demonstrating respect for one another's limits. At this point, Ron knew exactly where to push her and where to pull back, and it became an artful game, an engaging dance where their explorations sometimes reinforced their previous understanding of one another, and other times offered up a surprise.

Those explorations taught Ron that it was ok to phrase his bedroom requests as commands as long as she had a sense of physical control. That could mean that she was positioned on top, or was wearing more clothes than him, or that she had her wand and he didn't. He learned that her aversion to surprises translated into the bedroom, and their physical communication was always clearer when accompanied by words. He could snake an arm underneath her and flip her around so she was pinned underneath him, pull her hair, or dig his fingernails into her skin— as long as was expecting it.

He discovered that these boundaries were somewhat fluid when, one night, he pressed into her just a little more forcefully than normal, and shifted them forward so her arm got caught between the mattress and the headboard. He stopped when he realized that she was stuck, but to his surprise, she waved off his attempt to unpin her.

"Actually, I kind of like it."

And honestly, he did too.

He was then reminded of his brother Bill's words before his wedding so many years ago— that the best part of being with someone is the fact that they constantly change and evolve, and you'll never truly know them. It really did leave room for some fun surprises.

She still surprised him often, and not just in the bedroom. Ron understood— and supported— her career ambitions, and he knew she had a strict timeline for working her way up in the Department of Magical Law. He was aware of which promotions she was being considered for, and always had a bottle of champagne ready to celebrate when she would come home and excitedly announce her new title. That's why he didn't expect her to turn down a director position in favor of a lateral move across the department, just because she needed a "change of scenery." And although he was supportive, of course, her decision to step away from Magical Law completely to take a lower-paying, less prestigious social service internship at St. Mungos completely shocked him.

"I thought you loved Law," he remembered saying.

"I do," she reiterated when she told him the news. "But I've never tried anything else."

He popped the champagne anyway, silently hoping that she would never apply the same logic to being with him.

Ron also understood that unlike him, Hermione was accustomed to a certain level of financial security— when her underpaid internship meant a few household bills went overdue, they slashed all luxuries from their budget. Ron, now operating at his childhood default simply shrugged it off, while Hermione panicked.

"What if we miss rent?" she had said, pacing the living room.

"We move into Grimmauld Place," he answered nonchalantly.

"What if we starve?"

"My mum would never let that happen. Plus, muggles sure know how to make convenience foods taste good," he said, while heating up his second bowl of ramen.

Ron knew that her timeline for starting a family differed from his. He was ok with that, and did his best to silence any remaining hope that she would change her mind. But much as he tried to squash his desire to drop hints, he couldn't help but notice the moments that suggested she was bluffing.

The topic of babies started appearing in their conversations more frequently. She would casually tell Ron that she liked certain names, or gush at a pair of baby socks they would stumble upon while out shopping. She even asked Molly to see some of Ron's baby pictures and wondered aloud if their future kids would inherit his flaming red hair. She'd ask hypothetical questions that didn't seem that hypothetical at all.

"Do you like the name Rose?" she asked him once, when they strolled past a rosebush.

"I do," he said. "Why?"

"No reason."

She reacted with genuine enthusiasm when Ginny announced her pregnancy, and Ron wondered how much her detailed questions had to do with true concern for her friend. When James was born, and Ron and Hermione were named Godparents, she fell in love with him immediately. Ron did too, but he also fell more in love with Hermione when he saw how tenderly she looked at baby James. A fire ignited in his chest when she bounced James on her hip, read him bedtime stories, and begged Ginny and Harry to let them babysit.

"I think you both need to go out, have some fun," she told Ginny at Grimmauld Place, while holding a bottle to James' tiny face. "Ron and I can watch him."

"Hermione, are you sure?" Ginny glanced between them, a knowing, yet skeptical look on her face. Ron shrugged at her and smiled. "He's a lot of work."

"We can handle it." She sounded confident.

And they did handle it. Baby James regularly spent evenings with Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron while Harry and Ginny enjoyed a parenting break. He had to laugh at Harry's words when Ron returned James one night.

"Isn't babysitting the best form of birth control?"

He laughed partly because it was funny, but mostly because he wasn't finding it to be true at all. In fact, there seemed to be a connection between James's birth and Hermione's sudden casual relationship with contraceptive charms. It was the same for him. He began hearing the words "It'll probably be fine this time," more often while they undressed each other and realized their wands were in another room. For Hermione, who was so averse to surprises and always needed a plan, occasionally shrugging off contraceptive spells could only mean one thing— that 'no babies until age 30' might be another flexible boundary.

They experienced a gradual, but clear shift in priorities. Seeing how happy Harry was as a husband and a father reinforced what he already knew— that he wanted his life to look like that too. Hermione's genuine elation when discussing their future together assured him that they were on the same page.

It didn't expedite his plan to propose to her, but it gave him all the confidence he needed to finally put his plan in motion. He picked up a few shifts at the joke shop to save more quickly for a ring. He suggested they pay a visit to Australia to see her parents over the winter holidays, and made a private plan to discuss marriage with Jean and Hugo. He even asked Harry for advice. Harry told Ginny, who simply said "about fucking time" and insisted she help him plan the perfect proposal.

Sometimes he wanted to go back in time and show his past self the elaborate plan he was creating to ask Hermione Granger to marry him. He'd inform first-year Ron that he was going to fall head-over-heels in love with the girl he had just called a nightmare. He would tell his fourth-year self not to worry so much about Viktor Krum. He'd assure that oblivious sixteen-year-old that yes, when she asked him to Slughorn's party she meant it as a date, and that he was wasting his time with Lavender Brown. He'd even encourage his seventeen-year-old self to just kiss her at Bill's wedding, or in the drawing-room at Grimmauld Place, or in that damn tent. He'd tell him to embrace her, let her know how he feels, and that he has nothing to worry about because one day he's going to propose, and she's probably going to say yes.

But he also knew that those tough moments were part of their story, and their relationship would continue to evolve over a lifetime. There was still so much about each other they didn't understand, and decades from now, their dynamic might be completely unrecognizable. Based on the past fifteen years of change, he had no idea what to expect from their future, but he could no longer wait to find out.

#hp fanfic #hpromione #hp ficlet #hp fandom #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #ronweasley #ron weasley #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #ron x hermione #ron and hermione

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minchen0897 · 4 years ago

Text

Cold (derogatory) and a Cat

My Secret Santa entry from the Discord Server for @madecunningly I hope you like it!!! Happy holidays!!

Starring: Quinlan Vos, a Cold planet, and Maul

Quinlan had been on this planet for about three Coruscant standard weeks, trying to look into a lead on one or several of the Sith – because apparently the Rule of Two had been put into a dumpster and then used as an illegal bonfire – and he was seriously considering a vacation on Tatooine.

Or to set himself on fire.

Forget the sand or the pain or whatever, at least it would be warm.

He was bundled in five layers of warm clothes, one of the layers being actual thermals, and he still was shivering all day long. Even while he used every trick in the book to keep warm.

(Admittedly, rubbing his hands did not help much when he was wearing thick gloves to protect them.)

He even put on a local cream to keep his face from freezing, but it was still cold.

Yesterday he had very nearly broken a good hand-width of his dreadlocks off, because there had been an accident with a fluid that he does not want to talk about and had indeed forgotten about in the chase that followed, until he had to return to his humble temporary abode for the night to avoid freezing to death. His hair had clinked like icicles clacking against each other when he had moved his head a bit too fast (he thought he had heard something, which probably was also his frozen hair), and curious where the sound came from repeated the motion, nearly breaking off his hair.

Not that it would have mattered much, it’s just hair, but the point he was trying to make is that it was too kriffin cold.

(He also objected to sleeves on a deep personal level, so this really wasn’t his preferred weather, but alas, a Jedi went where a Jedi must go.)

He couldn’t even use the Force to warm himself up, for several reasons: he was on the trail of someone potentially connected to the Sith or a Sith themself, so extreme caution was advised – nobody wants the Sith to go further into hiding then they already were. So low profile it was, and someone on this warmth-forsaken planet not freezing their shebs off was very suspicious. Even the natives were shivering. He also was still feeling the aftereffects of a concussion he had gotten in an unfortunate accident he did not want to go into any further.

It was nothing too bad but trying more finicky things with the Force did not make his head happy.

(People who got concussions often apparently were prone to headaches and migraines. Sometimes Quinlan really, honestly had a deep worry for Obi-wan. That man could take care of himself – although he actually seemed to suck at it – had an uncanny ability to survive everything the galaxy threw at him, but…still.)

In any case, to keep the spiral of mental commentary from spinning out of control, it was fucking cold, Quinlan did not like that, and he was so far not getting anywhere with his supposed lead.

He took a deep breath – or as deep as he could without feeling his lungs were freezing, even while breathing through a scarf and all – and carefully released his frustration and discontent into the Force. They would not help and rather cloud his decisions, anyway.

Somewhere in the distance Quinlan could hear people singing. As far as he knew it was a way to celebrate together before the White Wall hit and everyone would be confined to their homes for at least a week. Historically, before technology got better, it was one last big party before they would leave the other members of their community to whatever the White Wall had held in stock for them. Sort of like one last hurrah before potentially facing down the end. Or at the very least facing separation for a while without means of checking in with their loved ones – as was usual, those who were obscenely rich and could afford the according technology were the exception to this.

The White Wall was not a snowstorm per se, although unsuspecting strangers tended to refer to it as that. It looked in fact rather innocent, simple snow clouds, on most planets not any more harmful than simple rainclouds that brought the rain and then moved on.

But alas, on this particular planet, these particular snow clouds gathered and then brought snowfall for at least a week, without moving on, and it was a regular occurrence that everyone was snowed in by meters of the frozen water posing as innocent little white crystals. It was an interesting weather phenomenon, and also dangerous for uninformed sentients. Which were exceedingly rare because in modern times everyone got warned, so generally there was not too much danger anymore. Those who hosted guests stocked up generously on anything essential that might be needed. So today there was nobody really in danger of freezing to death due to the abundance of snow the White Wall brought. (Quinlan had opinions on that, and most of them were objections to this statement, because he was still freaking cold, but that was probably his frustration speaking.)

The tradition to meet up before the White Wall hit and celebrate with songs and dance and good food and also this one special drink they made for the occasion had stayed and was probably one of the most famous things this planet had to offer, right up there with the weather phenomenon that was the reason for the celebration in the first place.

He turned around a corner, intent to get back to the small inn he stayed at and found himself almost immediately hissed at.

There was a cat. Very fluffy. All that fur probably was needed in this cold. Desperately so, because despite all the fur it still appeared to be shivering.

It also, under all the anger it spouted in the Force, felt quite miserable.

Quinlan felt for the creature.

He knelt and sent gentle waves of calmness at the cat. “Today is just not a good day, isn’t it?”

He would have said horrible, but that would have probably been his frustration talking.

The cat continued hissing, as Quinlan settled down against the wall of a building close to it. Not that the hissing really bothered Quinlan. He steadily continued with exuding calmness. It worried him a bit that despite the hissing and general everything of the cat, it had not moved. Neither to attack nor to run away. Odd.

Maybe the cat couldn’t run? Being hurt would explain why it was so angry and miserable. He had seen a vet clinic only a few blocks over that had open still and could at least check the cat for injuries.

“You don’t look so good,” Quinlan looked at the cat that had stopped hissing quite so loudly. He was not quite sure why he was talking to a cat, but there had been stranger things happening in this galaxy than this. The Force seemed to be supportive and anticipating something.

“How about I bring you to the vet – there is a clinic not too far away – and you get checked out for injuries. And maybe we can find a place for you to stay? The weather forecast said the White Wall would hit tonight, and honestly, nobody deserves to be out in this cold.”

The cat looked a little bit like it wanted to make a face between straight up murder and questioning Quinlan’s sanity. It felt a bit rude that a cat was looking at him like this.

“Come on, inside a house it’s definitely warmer than outside, that has to be a convincing argument.”

The cat took its time, but it got less hissy gradually. Still not in the best of moods – which was perfectly understandable, in Quinlan’s opinion – but the calming presence Quinlan tried his best to exude seemed to do its job.

Once he was sure the cat would not attack him immediately with the intent to kill Quinlan carefully gathered the cat into his arms and began making his way to the vet. The cat was predictably very unhappy, but suprisingly it was not struggling too much. Mostly because moving seemed to hurt it somewhat, Quinlan thought.

The vet, while still open, was running on minimum staff. There was only one vet and one assistant currently on hand; their colleagues had already gone to the celebrations. The two in attendance had, from the looks of it, drawn the short sticks and had been assigned the duty during the following week – or weeks, depending on how much and how long snow would fall – to care for long-term patients or animals that had been brought here because the owners couldn’t take care of them during this time.

Basically, they had to pull double duty in the veterinarian clinic and the animal shelter that apparently was part of it.

Quinlan did not envy them their jobs.

Especially not once the cat seemed to regain some energy and made valiant attempts at scratching the vet and their assistant to death during the health exam. Not that they were bothered by it; they made jokes about thick skin and that was the extent of their reactions to it.

It turned out the cat – actually a male specimen, apparently – was perfectly fine health-wise. Cold and exhausted, but nothing rest and warmth won’t fix.

The assistant rang him up after the exam was over.

“That would make 15 Credits – the fee for our services. Oh! Before I forget about it – will you take him home with you? Or do you want us to keep him here?”

The cat stared at the assistant, ready to take their eyes out.

“I’ll take him home with me, no problem,” Quinlan said. He had a feeling if he left the cat here he would actually commit murder. Aside from that, the vet had said – after Quinlan asked, because small talk was a thing – that the shelter was filled to the brim. And he wouldn’t really have to worry about feeding the cat. His temporary neighbour two rooms from his own rented one had brought two tookas with them, so there would be some kibble available for sure. And if needs really must, he could always share his own food, he supposed. “Thank you for all your help.”

“No problem. It is literally our job,” the assistant chuckled good naturedly. “However, I think you should hurry. It looks like the snow is coming down soon, and nobody wants to be outside when the White Wall hits town.”

The assistant had a good point there. He had a good sense for orientation and the Force to boot, but he honestly didn’t want to be outside still when the snow really came down. There are dares and then there is being an idiot. He very firmly counted himself among the former section.

He said his good-byes, cat under his arm, and made his way back to the inn.

This was really not how he had thought his visit on this planet would go.

-_-_-

Darth Maul, Sith Apprentice and a Lord in his own right, had at one point come to the conclusion that his life sucked.

His life up to his defeat at the hands of Kenobi and subsequent half-existence spoke for that in and of itself.

It was only due to his stubbornness (his desperation, his clinging to life, not that he called it that, because it smelled of weakness he refused to have) and hate for Kenobi that he managed to survive the following years. Admittedly, he had used the Dark Side as a crutch, an aid to his continued survival. Not that his then-Master had allowed him to learn these arts, but when has not being allowed something ever stopped him?

In any case, with everything gone, the whispers and promises of the Dark Side had been constant. Had been there, had not left. Had fed from his anger, made him stronger in return, let him survive in return.

For ten years the Dark Side’s whispers and his own tinkering to gain a lower body-half again where the only noises he took note of.

Then he learned that Count Dooku, that absolute snob, had replaced him, that his master had simply thrown him away (he refused to acknowledge that the actions – or lack thereof – of his former Master had hurt) and Maul swore revenge. On Kenobi, for defeating him; on Dooku for taking his place; on his Master for casting him off like one might throw away a broken toy.

They would pay. All of them.

He had survived, and then he plotted.

Kenobi had to die, and he would do it himself – no matter the cost. Every time the place where his body met the prosthetic cramped, making Maul remember the fresh wound with a shadow of the pain he had lived through, he was reaffirmed in this.

Dooku had to die too. And it had to be humiliating. He had vague memories of other Zabraks, who had been…close…to Maul. He could use their power. Take them from Dathomir. Leave chaos in their wake, as the damned witches on that Force-forsaken planet had given him away like a slave that he had been. (It felt like betrayal – another thought Maul did not want to recognize in himself, unsure were following it would lead, which felt suspiciously weak, and he refused to be that.)

The witches would suffer for what they had done.

It had the added bonus of at least indebting the other Zabraks to him, as he would free them from the Witches.

Once they were on his side, he would train them, and train them well. It would take time, but he had time. He could be patient. (It felt like hunting – another vague memory from the life before he had been given to his Master.)

Besides, it was not like he had nothing to do while training them. He could study the material he would take from the witches, use their Magick to his advantage – as he knew for certain that Palpatine never had an interest in learning Dathomirian Magick, seeing it as beneath him. It would be an ace up his sleeve.

He could also go to other Sith Temples. Learn. Teach. Biding his time.

He had heard Dooku had a thing for rare artifacts, so if he found one it was a possible lure for his replacement.

As for his former Master – death for him was inevitable. Palpatine had not shared all his plans for the Empire he wanted to build – but that he wanted to build one was certain. He had already started with his plans; in fact, one of the early stages had been becoming the Supreme Chancellor.

Knowing about the Empire was enough for Maul to decide where he wanted to begin his revenge against Palpatine.

Every Government can be undermined.

And Palpatine would grasp at straws, and fail to do so rather pathetically, when Maul pulled the Empire away from underneath his feet. Or shattered it into million pieces. He was not sure yet.

Regardless, when Palpatine would see his Empire crumble right in front of his eyes, Maul would strike, and end the wretched life of the wrinkled bastard.

Or maybe torture him first and then end him. He had not quite decided on his primary plan quite yet.

Point was, he had a plan with backup plans regarding Palpatine’s end, and the majority of them involved him building up his own underground empire. (Name still pending.)

And to that extent he visited this damned planet (honestly who would want to live here, it’s too cold) that brought him back to his suffering, because he needed contacts.

And the contacts were not actually the problem. The problem was that he had grown curious when he noticed a Force Artifact in one abandoned building – a ruin, really – far outside any settlement.

So he went to investigate. The Dark Side whispered promises still, but there was something else that spoke of anticipation – good or bad Maul couldn’t tell.

The artifact turned out to be some strange metal, nothing he could identify on the spot, formed like a claw. There were ancient texts, or at least they looked ancient, written all over the cellar room he had found the claw in – both room and claw hidden away behind traps that were almost too easy for him.

He had been too focused on his little hunt in the ruin to notice it right away, but the thing speaking of anticipation had grown and smothered the Dark Side’s whispers into nothingness. In hindsight that had been a glaring sign something was about to go wrong.

But he didn’t notice, and now he paid for it.

Because the moment he touched the claw, he lost consciousness, and once he woke up again still in the cellar, he was a kriffing cat, and the claw was nowhere to be found.

And, because the universe hated him, the ruins had started to rumble ominously, little pieces of rock falling from the ceiling in a clear sign that he should get out of there as fast as possible.

Which he did, of course.

It simply turned out that the traps that had seemed almost too easy for him before were significantly harder to circumvent. Especially when he had not even heard the tiniest slip of a whisper from the dark side, only felt that anticipating something hovering absolutely everywhere, which was somewhat interesting, but also absolutely useless. (He was not a fan.)

Also it turned out the bonus of having non-metal legs (because that was a thing, as a cat he apparently had four functioning flesh limbs) was actually not that much of a bonus at all when weighed against opposable thumbs and said metal legs not needing muscle stamina to run.

Outside the ruins he watched as any option to figure out what was the power behind the claw – and it had to be some power in cooperation with the claw, nothing else would make sense – literally crumbled to the ground, and quickly was covered in snow.

There was, he thought furiously, very little chance of finding the ruins again after the White Wall hit.

So as anyone sensible who also happened to have received some form of training in the powers he had, tried to lift a few rocks off where he suspected the cellar had been. (Apparently, his room orientation was now also shot on accord of being a karking cat.)

Nothing moved.

Maul let out a furious yowl.

Whoever was responsible for this dilemma would pay, he would make sure of it. As soon as he found out who it was anyway. Until then his rage would carry him forwards, as it always did.

He found it disconcerting that no whispers from the Dark Side, no promises, reached his ears after this vow. Only the anticipating silence from the Something Else. It was almost eery.

He paced in the snow for a bit. (Unsurprisingly it was cold.)

He was a cat, had no thumbs, and basically no strength – neither in body nor in the Dark Side – when compared to his actual body.

There was simply no chance of him digging the cellar out. Not without his full set of power.

He cursed and got furious when he only heard himself hissing and yowling. Very angrily, admittedly, but it was just not the same. It simply made him angrier, but without the added benefit of more whispers and promises from the Dark Side.

Which, again, was usually always present and was now suspiciously absent.

Without another option in sight, and unwilling to die in the White Wall, Maul had made his way back to the nearest town.

Which, very frustratingly, had taken an eternity. It had also been miserable because in the midst of his way back it had started to snow, and he was pretty sure he had run in a circle before getting his orientation back.

He had cowered in an alley and made the very first being suffer with his claws (neat) that came too close.

Then the lack of stamina in this useless (aside from the claws) body had made his muscles cramp and he had been reduced to hissing and yowling curses at everyone that came too close.

A few beings tried, but while they didn’t understand his words, at least they got the gist of his message.

Until a Jedi walked into his alley. Because of course there was a Jedi present on this planet, in this town, walking into his alley. He was easily noticeable as a Jedi because the anticipatory something from everywhere seemed to give this person something like a hug.

Strange concept.

And then the Jedi had the audacity to not only ignore his threats and come closer but also sit down next to him.

That absolute bastard would meet a harrowing death at either his hands or his claws. Blood would spill. He would shred the Jedi’s clothes, scratch at their skin until the liquid of their veins-

The Jedi was warm.

The Jedi was warm?

The anticipatory something from before had become smug (rude) and mixed with the something surrounding the Jedi, who then seemed to make the something into – well Maul would guess the equivalent of a warm blanket.

It was one of the stranger things Maul had felt. He knew similar things from the Dark Side, had used it to intimidate people in a bar once because he wanted a booth for himself and they were in the way, so he had sent them cowering.

But this was new. Startling. Strange. But not bad?

How very weird. (But also comfortable.)

The Jedi made a few good points about not freezing to death outside once the White Wall hit, but still, the audacity to simply pick him up and bring him to a vet!

He blamed it on his still cramping muscles that he did not eviscerate the Jedi on the spot. (Never mind that his muscles were somewhat useable once more.)

The vet claimed everything to be alright with him, which, no, he was kriffin cold, this planet was horrible, and also he was a cat and not a Zabrak as he originally should be, but before he could claw the vet’s – or his assistant’s, he wasn’t picky – eyes out, the Jedi had bundled him up and they had left.

He would have to enact rage later.

To his great surprise the Jedi did indeed take him with them to the place they were apparently staying at, and did not randomly drop him in a dumpster.

Maul refused to feel grateful for it. He did not want to think about his success regarding this decision.

Instead, just to spite the Jedi, he aimed to be as much of a menace as he could be without access to his full abilities. For the next few days furniture got scratched up. The Jedi’s food was eaten or made inedible by him. Fur was shed excessively.

The Jedi cursed regularly at him, but never raised a hand. An interesting change to his usual experience with other Users of the Force. Usually there was always violence involved when he met with any of them, be it his former Master or another Jedi.

Not that he wanted to be fair, but the reason behind it might be that in the Jedi’s eyes he was a simple cat.

The thought disgusted him somewhat, as he was not merely a cat. He was more than that but communicating that was hard when he had no thumbs and could only do cat things and noises. He was stuck at angry hissing.

Then, one evening, the Jedi made the grave mistake of leaving their cup of tea on the counter while they went to the ‘fresher. Maul saw a chance and took it.

He sat next to the cup on the counter and waited until the Jedi returned, established eye contact, and pawed the cup over the edge. It fractured into tiny, sharp shards. The ground was covered in rapidly cooling tea.

The Jedi began cursing.

Maul’s work was done, so he leapt from the counter.

Or intended to, because the Jedi – for once without gloves because they had indeed taken a shower – caught him mid-leap with their hands.

“Careful you kriffin menace, there are shards every…where…“ the Jedi petered off into silence.

The something – which Maul assumed could only be the Force the Jedi preferred to use – around the Jedi was thrumming with activity.

And thus Maul hung suspended in the air by two hands for a while.

He didn’t even struggle to get out of the hold. He blamed being distracted by the interesting patterns the Force of the Jedi drew and sung in equal measures.

The eyes of the Jedi were staring unblinking at nothing right above Mauls head, right until they weren’t anymore and instead snapped into focussing right on Maul.

“Fucking shit.”

Well, that was eloquent. Not. But it summarized Mauls situation quite neatly.

“You’re Maul.”

Maul tried his best to frown at the Jedi, but alas, being a cat crossed his plans once more.

“Why are you a cat? No actually, how the fuck are you still alive? We thought you were dead!”

Maul hissed. It was not his fault that Kenobi was incompetent.

“Holy shit, you’re a cat.”

Now he began to struggle in earnest. While the Jedi seemed flabbergasted still, it was only a question of when that would change, and as soon as the Jedi stopped being…shocked, he guessed, they would try to catch him and ‘bring him to justice’ or something ridiculous, and Maul did not want to make that easy for them by simply hanging in their grip like a wet towel.

“No, hold on, wait, I’m not going to murder you! But I could use your help.”

If he could snort derisively, Maul would. Yeah, right. A Jedi wanted his help.

“Okay I know this sounds ridiculous, but – well. I. Uhm. I saw that you have plans for your former Master, which largely end with him being dead, and I want to support that goal.”

Sounded fake but he would hear the Jedi out. For now. Maybe he could get good connections out of this.

“Okay, so hear me out – wait, no, name first, I’m Quinlan. Now hear me out. We’re kinda getting desperate here. The war is going on and on, our men are dying by droves despite our best attempts otherwise, the Jedi are dying equally as fast – not that that interests you, you’re probably happy about that,” Maul was actually not quite sure if he was happy about it, or if he had apathy about it, or if it was more convenience than anything else if it actually was convenience, but that’s nothing he wanted to spend thoughts on, “and we hope that finding the Sith Lord, the Sith Master, and ending them will end the war and spare many people from dying.”

A valid reason for a Jedi he supposed. Now the Jedi – Quinlan – only needed to get to the point.

“You were the Sith Master’s Apprentice. You could tell us about them. What you know about their plans. Which would, in turn, ruin those plans because we – the Jedi – would do our best to stop them. It would align with your goal of making your former Master miserable. I would have to speak to the council but maybe you can be directly involved too, enact your revenge more directly.”

At that Maul clawed at Quinlan’s bare arms, because he was still a cat, and he could not take revenge on Sidious as a cat.

Quinlan flinched satisfyingly.

“Here’s where my counteroffer comes in,” he continues despite the scratches and while still holding Maul up. “The Archives of the Jedi Order are large and filled with knowledge. You would have access to it and I would offer my help to reverse whatever made you into a cat.”

Maul stared at Quinlan.

Quinlan stared back.

“If you are entirely against this deal shake your head, if you are willing to talk details, I don’t know, hiss at me or something.”

Maul stared.

Quinlan frowned.

“Yeah, okay, maybe talk was the wrong verb to use there.” He hummed in thought. “I think I saw an external keyboard for a terminal somewhere in this place. It had a weird layout, but you should be able to type something when I hook it up to my pad.”

Maul stared.

Quinlan stared.

“So?”

Maul hissed.

#Secret Santa 2020 #my writing #Star Wars #Quinlan Vos #Darth Maul

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