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kilannad · 2 years

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These Ancient Words (Like a Hymn of Reclamation)

Thousands of years ago, the gods chose champions to fight on their behalf--now, in the Great Age of Piracy, those champions are reincarnated to once again play a game to the death. As the game begins, these twenty-two Arcana awaken with new powers to help them towards their goals--be that trying to stop the cycle of death once and for all, or win and claim immortality as their prize.

From rookies just setting out all the way to Emperors and Revolutionaries, the players span seas and loyalties. The only question; who will die first?

Consider buying me a cookie! Ao3.

XXI. The World

Fire flickered in the corner of Sabo’s vision. He tried to turn to look at it, but instead was drawn to the small body that slammed into his back. The face was blurred, nothing but tanned skin and a wide smile. Another boy, nothing but freckles, came running up. He had a pipe slung over his shoulder. For some reason, Sabo was very sure this was important, though he couldn’t quite figure out why.

He was dreaming, he realized.

“Sabo!” Smiley said, “Tell【】󠁖to stop being mean!”

“I’m not being mean, you’re just a crybaby!” Freckles snapped back. The fire on the edges sparked.

“Oi, oi,” Sabo calmed, not really in control of what was coming out of his mouth. “【】, I thought we agreed to no more fighting today. We’re 【】, right? Why don’t we try practicing those card tricks【】showed us?”

“Oh, yeah,” Smiley cheered. “Can we use the cards with pictures on them?”

“Idiot, those things are bigger than your head,” Freckles grumbled, but went into the flames. Sabo tried to call out, but couldn’t make his mouth move. Freckles returned from the fire, holding a deck of cards that Sabo had never seen before. They were taller and broader than normal playing cards, and the deck looked old and ripped. “Hey, Sabo, what’d you call these things anyway?”

“Tarot cards,” Sabo replied easily. “They’re usually used for reading the future, but there are a couple games we can play with them. And I thought 【】 might like them more.”

Smiley laughed brightly, opening his mouth. “Sabo.”

“Yeah?”

Smiley kept talking, but all he heard was that same voice. “Sabo. Wake up.”

The fire sparked across his eyes.

Sabo gasped awake, flopping away from the hands on his shoulders. For a moment he didn’t know where he was, flames flickering at the edge of his vision. Then Koala’s face swam into view, scrunched with worry.

“You okay?”

“I--” was he? He felt like he was forgetting something important, but he couldn’t figure out what. “I think so. Just a weird dream.”

“What about?”

He rubbed his aching head, trying to clear it. Sabo’s dreams often floated away by the time he was truly awake, leaving him with no recollection of them. This one was no different, except…

“Hey, Koala. Do you know what a tarot card is?”

☉

Sabo took a deep breath and touched the ceiling. This wasn’t actually that unusual of an occurrence; he was a tall man who was physically fit and more than capable of jumping high enough to touch the ceiling at almost any part of Baltigo. What was unusual was that his feet weren’t touching the ground but crossed under him and gravity seemed ill-inclined to pull him back down.

“Holy fucking shit,” Koala breathed. Sabo silently agreed. His stomach rumbled and he stopped concentration. He floated gently back down.

His private office was dead silent for a long beat. Another. “So,” Sabo began in a cheerful tone. “Bet you don’t see that every day.”

“You’re sure you didn’t eat a Devil Fruit?”

He rolled his eyes but let a serious tone take over. “Positive. Haven’t had anything unbearably disgusting recently besides Hack’s coffee and I took a bath before calling you in. No reaction to the water.”

She huffed at the insult to Hack but didn’t deny it. A good man and great fighter he might be, but capable with a coffee pot he was not. “And this started…?”

“This morning. I woke up an inch from the ceiling. Weird experience, let me tell you.”

~Quake before me!~

He clenched his jaw at the voice. Koala, because she was great like that, noticed.

“What? What else is there?”

“I…” How to tell your partner that relied on you to keep her alive that you were going certifiably insane? Decisions, decisions. “You know how you always joke about how I should get a new conscious to whisper in my ear?”

She looked notably disturbed at the turn in conversation. “Yes?”

“Well, I got voices at least.”

Her lips went very thin and her shoulders very straight. “How many?”

“I counted twenty. Each says the same thing over and over--a specific line. Most are less than friendly. Except for two of them that said something else once before going silent. Like they were talking to me. Us. Whatever.”

“They constant?”

He considered the question, opening a drawer and grabbing a bag of jerky he kept for late night snacks. He was starving.

~Red of tooth and claw!~

“No,” Sabo settled on. “After the initial wave they died down into background buzzing. Now there’s just two or three that occasionally pop up like whack a moles.”

“I’m glad you’re finding this amusing,” she groaned. “Anything else you’re leaving out?”

“Some of them sound louder than others. Like they’re closer.”

“That is not comforting at all,” Koala muttered. She shook her head, grabbing his arm and dragging him out and down the hall. “We’re going to Dragon over this.”

Sabo flinched before smoothing his face. He couldn’t blame Koala for her reaction; he knew that this couldn’t possibly indicate good things. Still, he didn’t let his worry show as they walked through Baltigo. The last thing the Revolutionary Army needed was to see their Chief of Staff falling apart because of a few little voices.

Not like it would be the first time someone called him crazy.

Dragon, by some miracle, wasn’t in a meeting or on a call. Just sitting in his office, staring out the window as if he could find the answer to world peace out there. Sabo closed the door.

“Boss, we, ah.” Koala trailed off, sharing a look with Sabo.

“I’m going insane, sir.”

Dragon huffed, finally turning around. When he saw them he blinked before sitting up straighter and staring at Sabo for several long seconds that made him uncomfortable. Before he could open his mouth and undoubtable say something stupid, Dragon threw his head back and laughed. A full belly-shaking, wheezing air, laugh that Sabo had never heard before.

Sabo suddenly didn’t think he was the only one insane.

“Should we get a doctor?” he muttered. Koala shot him a glare but didn’t deny the sentiment.

“Ah, boss?”

“You aren’t insane, Sabo,” Dragon finally said. As quick as his laughter--nearly hysterical at that--had come, their familiar stern leader returned. “Tell me, what do you know about Tar Ro?”

“Er,” he sat alongside Koala, confused but trusting. “Do you mean tarot sir? As in the card deck?”

“The card deck came after and the name has been butchered over the years, but close enough. You’re familiar with the Major Arcana of the deck?”

“You mean the twenty-two trump cards,” Koala said. “What does that have to do with Sabo going insane?”

“Because Tar Ro is a game played on a global scale every several centuries. The tarot decks were once just the way a specific family chronicled the game but then got popular. Now, people forget that the Arcana weren’t just major playing cards, but representative of players themselves.”

Sabo sorted through the facts quickly. He didn’t like the conclusion he came to.

“Sir, Dragon, are you saying…?”

Dragon grinned, wide and a little bloodthirsty. It was the same look he had anytime they managed to intercept a Heavenly Tribute shipment.

“You, Sabo, are card twenty-one; the World. And you just might be the way we can finally stop the World Nobles.”

XX. Judgement

The hairbrush was gentle against his head, lulling him into peace. The little fire flickered; a dangerous beacon to their location his mother allowed in indulgence. Alber didn’t need the heat--he was a Lunarian after all, as strong and resilient as his father before him--but he couldn’t help but collect thin branches and soft moss, holding them out in offering when his mother announced they’d stop in the shallow cave for the night. She’d frowned, dark skin wrinkling, but had given in to his wide eyes. Stories, his father had once whispered to him long ago, before it was just Alber and his mother, were meant to be told over fires. And he knew what story was coming; the same one she told every year when the moon fell between the stars that made up the Second Sun constellation.

Alber let his wings stretch out to the tips of his feathers, the shadow across from him shifting and growing with the movement. His mother hummed a low note, and he brought them in again, settling them loose and relaxed, brushing against the hard stone floor where he sat.

“Thousands of thousands of sunrises ago,” his mother began, her voice rough and low, the lilt and curl of her words as familiar as the wind beneath his wings or the fire in his veins, “When our kin filled the skies and the countries of the Twenty Kings had not been founded, gods walked these lands they called Tar Ro.”

Alber closed his eyes, sinking into the tale. The fire popped and the wind howled; his mother’s voice didn’t falter. The same words he’d heard a dozen times before--the same history passed from Lunarian to Lunarian, until they were all that was left.

“They saw the wars, the greed, the sins, of all peoples of earth and said ‘No more. Things must change.’ But the gods could not agree on how things had to change. One thought all those who sinned should be killed; another thought people should all be made to love each other so no more harm would be done; a third argued people were flawed, hideous creatures and should be replaced with animals. Again and again they argued, until the arguments became violent, and violence became war. None of them realized that in their attempt to judge and fix the world, they were committing the same sins they accused the people of. Islands sunk, oceans burned, and the whole world bled.”

Alber’s lips quirked into a smile as he mouthed the next part along. “Until, one god--the maddest of them all--forced all the other gods into a temperary truce. He told them that they were destroying everything, that the wars and destruction had to end. The Mad God told them that he had a solution, and all they had to do was agree.” Outside of the cave, a beast howled before the sound cut off abruptly. Alber barely spared it a thought; this was his favorite part.

“The Mad God suggested a game--each god would choose a representative and these 22 players would fight to the death, the winner determining the future of the world. The other gods thought this was a fine idea, each believing their own avatar would surely prevail, and so agreed. The Mad God grinned, for--”

“He had tricked them,” Alber finished breathlessly. His mother tugged a lock of his hair.

“Ja, Alber. But do not interrupt.”

“Sorry, mutti.”

She huffed a small laugh and began twisting a small part of hair into a braid. “The Mad God said he would cast a spell to give the avatars--these Arcana--a portion of their patrons’ magic. But when all the gods had gathered their chosen and submitted to the spell, they realized too late that the Mad God had trapped them. Instead of giving a small portion of power, the gods were locked inside the Arcana, put to sleep with only the barest hint of powers and wills trickling through into their hosts. The game of the world--Tar Ro--went on though. Twenty-two beings with gods trapped inside fought to the death, collecting emblems on their skin from the fallen. Finally, only one remained and was granted immortality for their prize; they had forever to remake the world in their image.”

She tugged one last time as she tied off the braid, letting it fall forward to swing in Alber’s eyes. “But the gods cannot be killed, though the Mad God’s trap was absolute. Eventually, when the world had again shifted into imbalance, the gods began reincarnating, their souls seeking out bloodlines of those they’d once chosen. A new game began and ended; centuries later, another. Again and again, just rare enough for the world to forget the last time gods walked among us, all except those who kept the histories, hiding them away in plain sight.”

“Among tarot cards,” Alber said, eyes flicking open to smile at his mother. Her red eyes flickered warmly crimson as she nodded.

“You know your stories, Alber. Do you remember what your father told you?”

He swallowed, smile fading away and joy curdling. It was hard to forget, when his father’s last words hadn’t been a declaration of love but a warning and order. “‘When gods walk the roads, seek out the Sun.’”

She cupped her hands around his face, palms rough and warm. “It has been many centuries since the last game, mein engel, and a storm is coming. Once, long ago, the Sun made a promise to the Archangel to bring the Dawn. You must see it done.”

For a moment, Alber struggled to find something to say. There was no certainty of the last game, but Lunarians had long memories and old stories. They knew enough to know the last winner would be no ally of theirs during the next Tar Ro. His mother had no real way of knowing the game would start in his lifetime, or even that he’d be an Arcana. But it was always a Lunarian and they were the only ones left, so if he didn’t keep the stories, no one would.

“I will, mutti. I swear it.”

She smiled, warm and proud and worn. Years later, Alber would often think of that night. Not of the soldiers who found them while they slept and slaughtered his mother in the ensuing battle; not of his capture and transfer to Punk Hazard and the trials that came; but of the promise he made.

☉

The blood had dried onto his leather gloves, making it crack and flake as he shifted his grip. King walked through the field of bodies, leaving clean up to Ulti as he prepared to return to Onigashima. Another day, another group of arrogant rookies. These ones hadn’t even been worth the breath of a recruitment speech, so he’d given the order to dispatch them. Not even half an hour later, and the crew of a few hundred painted the Wano countryside red. Honestly, his presence had been superfluous; Ulti and half a dozen Gifters could’ve handled it.

King shook the thought away, spreading his wings and launching into the sky. The wind was crisp for spring in Hakumai and he enjoyed the way it tugged at his feathers. Anything to distract him from the buzzing in his head. For the past few weeks he’d felt like he was getting ready to crawl out of his own skin; everything was always too loud or too bright, his eyes immediately focusing on the tiniest details until a migraine pounded against his skull. King didn’t mention it to anyone else--and certainly not Queen, the damn hack--but the problems were only growing worse. He didn’t need to talk about it though; he had a good idea what it meant.

Over the past decades, King had often come to the conclusion his mother’s stories were simply that--old legends and myths of their people, past down as any religion was. In all his years on the Grandline, he’d never seen any evidence of these past games, of the Arcana, or of the reigning winner. That was why he’d never breathed a word of the true depths of the legends, not even to his captain, besides a few mentions of the Dawn. And if Joy Boy was real, than King had already found him in Kaido, so he only needed to stay loyal.

All at once, the wind howled around him, catching at his wings and blowing him east in a sudden rush. Cursing, he tried to correct, but the pounding in his skull got worse until his vision blurred, a buzzing starting up just on the edge of his hearing. He lost altitude, struggling to stay afloat.

In a sudden burst of noise, the buzzing cleared into voices reverberating around his head. Most indistinct and distant, the words only vaguely there. A few were clear though, the voices strangely familiar though the words nonsensical.

~Crush you with the Weight of Sins.~

For half a second, his whole body locked up, wings freezing as he spiraled down, wind tugging from all sides, his eyes burning, head quaking.

~We go now to our bloody business.~

Calls, he thought wildly, unbelieving. His mother had mentioned it, once. That he’d know it was time if he ever heard the calls.

The wind screamed in his ears, whistling past him. He shook his head, his sight clearing into razor sharp focus as he snapped his wings out, banking just in time to avoid crashing into the ocean. If he was hearing--if he hadn’t just gone insane--than it meant-

He flew hard, the noises in his head fading, strength burning through his body as he made for Onigashima. King landed in the courtyard hard enough to shake the ground, various lower members of the crew scrambling to get out of his way as he strode for Kaido’s private rooms.

King knew, deep in his soul, that no matter what Kaido said he was the Dawn Bringer. The one to change the world like King’s mother had once promised him would happen. The details of the game had never been passed down, King’s people focusing on the why instead of the how. But his mother had always said he’d know an Arcana when he saw them.

Without knocking, he burst into the room, causing Kaido to pause with his gord held to his lips.

“Eh? King? What’s got you twisted?”

King stared, the voices in his head going distinctly silent. He blinked, realizing he could pick out the individual lines of skin in Kaido’s scar from this distance. It felt like he blinked and his sight went from a grainy newspaper picture to a full Video Den-Den. For all that King noticed the difference in himself, when he looked at Kaido there seemed nothing different or out of the ordinary. Just his quickly growing impatience.

“Oi, King-”

“Sotoku,” King interrupted, earning a deep scowl. King couldn’t tell anything was different with Kaido, but that didn’t mean much--it’d been decades since he heard his mother’s lilting voice and he’d likely forgotten important details of the stories she would tell. But he knew Kaido was the one his mother had spoken of. “I need to tell you a story.”

Neither of them noticed their audience.

XIX. The Sun

Centuries ago, a boy made a promise.

☉

The world tipped out of balance; the gods were born anew. The cards were shuffled; the hand dealt.

One card stayed face down.

XVIII. The Moon

The Tree of Knowledge was a great bastion of learning and history, and one wouldn’t be blamed for thinking that the ancient, indestructible, outlawed stone in its basement was its most dangerous secret.

Nico Robin, at eight years old, knew that was entirely false.

Poneglyphs were dangerous, certainly, and seeking out the secrets they kept enough for a death sentence. But what few knew--what no one outside of the archeologists of Ohara knew--was the reason for their interest in studying the poneglyphs, even outside a starwalt desire to learn all histories of the world. And that was because, since the Tree of Knowledge had been planted five thousand years ago, it had kept detailed records of every Tar Ro to ever occur--all except the last. While not an easy task by any means, considering that each Tar Ro was marked by social and economical catastrophes--and occasionally literally world changing natural disasters--the archaeologists and historians of Ohara were helped along by one simple fact; the Moon was always an Oharan.

In the depths of the Tree, well into the night when even the most insomniac of all the historians had gone home, Robin stayed up with a single lantern and a massive leather bound book. The beginning of the book had pages so old and yellowed that she summoned multiple hands to turn each animal skin page, just to support it more. The lettering was twisting and complicated, and she carefully recalled every lesson she’d ever had on Ancient Haran to follow along. Later in the book, when the pages became papyrus and then modern paper, it was clear they’d been added in, the binding expanded to allow for the more modern--though still ancient--lexicons. Robin could always tell when a new Tar Ro began, because it would start with the name and age of the Moon and the year they activated, and end with a library code to mark where the personal journal of the Arcana, if it’d been recovered, had been stored.

Reverently, Robin carefully traced each name as they’d been written in the Chronicles of the Moon.

ᛒᛖᚱᛁᛏ ᚨᚱᚾᛖᛞᛟᛏᛏᛖᚱ ᛒᚱᛁᛜᛖᚱ ᛟᛓ ᛞᛟᚢᛒᛏ

Nici drtr awf Salm bringr awf dubt

Lunara Dohtor of Nico, Bringer of Doubt

There were six names--six Tar Ro’s--kept in the book. The seventh entry and last page, dated the day before the Void Century started, had only Sel written in hurried script before stopping abruptly. Robin wondered who she’d been and how long she’d lasted.

This, she’d discovered over the last two years of studying and teaching herself the secret language, was the true greatest treasure of Ohara. While it didn’t have the last Tar Ro in it, Robin swore to herself that one day, she’d see it updated. For Sel’s sake, whoever she was.

☉

~Eyes to the skies, I strike from above.~

Robin kept her pace unhurried, her face placid, as she strode through Rain Dinners. The casino was a bustling monument to greed and envy, filled to the brim with the sorts of cowards who’d rather hide in Rainbase and pretend there was no civil war happening. It was as familiar to her as the clack of her heels or the grief in her bones.

The heat pressed on all sides, but she didn’t let it bother her as she closed the door to her private rooms. As always, nothing had been disturbed or touched, not even by housekeeping. They knew better than to come into her chambers.

~I descend upon you like nightfall.~

She shouldn’t be surprised, Robin figured. After all, she was the last Oharan left. The only survivor of a history five thousand years long.

With long, clever fingers made rough from years on the run, she pulled open her desk drawer and carefully skimmed through the empty journals she had left. After a moment of consideration, she pulled out a thick tomb with a white leather cover and gold embossed pages. Originally, she’d bought it to make notes on the various Alabastan ruins she’d planned on exploring, but she never had the time. The pages were crisp and well treated to resist sand and water--it’d be tough to damage. Maybe she could have her icon etched into the cover. If she lived that long.

~Trapped in the palm of my hand.~

While she considered her array of pens, she idly noted the Sun didn’t seem to be active. Interesting. Better than the time the Hanged Man had remained the wild card during the third game, at least.

Decision made, she plucked a finely pointed, water resistant fountain pen with a beautiful purple ink. The journal seemed to sigh as she opened it. On the cover page, she wrote the date using the Age of Heaven calendar. Then, after a moment's thought, she added what the date would be in the Age of the Sea Circle, since that was the calendar still in use during the last recorded game. No reason not to keep continuity. She flipped to the first lined page, using her best, most professional script.

Nico Robin, Daughter of Olvia, Bringer of Doubt.

XVII. The Star

Years and years ago, when Nami was a baby girl by a different name, her parents tucked her gently into bed. Softly, her father sang of a star that shone so bright it changed the world and her mother told her stories of gods made mortal.

A pity that she didn’t remember them. The only mother she knew was named Bellmere; and she knew nothing of the storm to come.

☉

Nami ran through the streets, feet splashing water everywhere. Shouts and curses echoed behind her, bouncing off the buildings that towered above the alleys she raced through. The storm--barometric pressure still incredibly low, likely wouldn’t let up any time soon--made the night the sort of pitch black nightmares were made of, but Nami had been doing this for eight years and could almost predict where corners would come up by the sound of rain against stone.

~I watch you like a hawk.~

“Weirdos,” she muttered under her breath, panting as she lugged the bag of cash. The pirates had been shouting a lot of weird things, but she ignored them all. If she could get to her boat, she’d risk sailing in the storm to get away. She knew, even without a compass, where north was. There were reefs that way that her small fishing boat would get through a lot easier than a big pirate ship.

Her breath came in heavier, her skin buzzing with energy and adrenaline. She felt like she was going to explode.

~Where he stops, nobody knows.~

She ignored the taunt, whipping around a corner only to slam to a stop as a flash of lightning illuminated a figure at the other end of the alley.

“Gone far enough, lass,” he growled. She couldn’t make out much, but she knew he was bigger just by the way the water hit him. Behind her, another half dozen guys slid to a stop, water spraying.

“Nowhere to go now,” one of them taunted. “Why don’t you be a good little girl and-”

She didn’t let him finish. Nami put her back to the corner, dropping the bag behind her and pulling out her staff in one swift move. She managed to catch the talking man in his chin with an upward swing. After that, everything began to blur, energy building beneath her skin as well as panic. She couldn’t fight off that many pirates--but like hell was she going to give up when Cocoyashi still suffered.

The panic crescendoed--at the tip of her staff, a light sparked, bright enough to blind. The men shouted; she closed her eyes, using sound to navigate. She cracked one’s skull; broke another’s legs.

Something grabbed her, and gravity seemed to change. The rain shifted directions, hitting her directly. Then, with a true burst of white hot fear, the world fractured into a disaster of energy. The men slammed away; gravity returned to normal.

When Nami opened her eyes, the storm was still raging, but she could make out the aftermath perfectly. Not just good hearing, she distantly realized. Every ping of water against the ground came back to her, filling in the scene like a coloring book.

The men? Skin melted and bones shattered. The buildings? Holes blown through the side, absolutely dusted. Nami? Completely and utterly unharmed.

She stared at her hand, watching as light sparked in it again before fading as her energy level abruptly plummeted.

“What the ever loving fuck?”

XVI. The Tower

Far above Enel’s head, the top of the tower glinted gold. The Tower of God was the central piece of Bilka, the beating heart of their warriors and scholars. Enel, as a lowly devotee, was banned from the upper levels.

“Enel-dasa,” someone said and he turned to find a tall, broad shouldered young man, wrapped in the traditional garb of their warriors.

“Urouge,” Enel managed. Urouge lifted a brow, lips grinning even as he silently waited. Enel kept his mouth shut; Urouge wasn’t even a full decade older than him and had only ascended a few months ago. Enel would sooner cut his tongue than call him Guru.

“Shouldn’t you be on your way to prayers?” Urouge finally asked, clasping Enel’s shoulder. He shrugged out of the grip, scowling at the familiarity. Urouge’s smile never wavered.

“Soon,” he said, though he had no intention of going to the temple. God never answered his prayers, so he saw no reason to keep praying. A true god would be present and known, Enel thought. A deity of swift punishment and just rewards. Not some distant, unspoken figure.

“Are you thinking about the fruit again?” Urouge asked. Enel was, but didn’t say so. What he did was his business. “You know better than to dream, I hope.”

“If the fruit really holds God’s powers, then why hasn’t He eaten it?” Enel demanded hotly.

“God will eat it when he’s reborn in human form,” Urouge explained patiently. “Someday, when the world quakes and we are in our darkest hours, God will again walk among us and use that fruit. We must protect it until then.”

Enel scowled, but didn’t continue to debate. An idea was starting to form in the back of his head, but he’d need a few more years to prepare for it.

After all, who was to say God didn’t already walk among them?

☉

~W…e….love…o-wn…way.~

Enel grunted, rolling his head. There’d been more buzzing around his ears than usual lately, like the voices were more distant. His range was expanding again. Only right for God to improve as he received more prayers.

~Crazy like a fox.~

That one at least was clear, not at all like the boy and girl that spoke in one broken voice. He couldn’t quite tell what part of Skypiea it was coming from though.

~A wise man in the guise of a boy.~

No matter, Enel decided. Likely just more rats running around and telling stories. Nothing for God to worry about.

XV. The Devil

Hody didn’t take a single step back as Shyarly approached. Neither did he step forward to greet her. As far as he was concerned, she was just as much a traitor as Jinbei. The most he was willing to do for her was to not attack as she swam closer to the edge of the Fishman District.

“What do you want, Shyarly?” he demanded impatiently when she paused.

“Nothing, Hody,” she drawled. “I’m just here to give you a warning, for old times’ sake.”

He snorted dismissively. “I thought you bigshots liked to pretend Fishman District had no bearing on you.”

“It doesn’t,” she assured him.

He snarled. “Than get the fuck out, race traitor.” He spun on his heels, storming away.

She called out before he could get far. “The world is going to change soon.” He paused, tilting his head to listen, but refusing to give her the satisfaction of looking interested. “You can either help it along…or be nothing but a footnote of someone else’s story.”

He couldn’t help it. Hody threw his head back and laughed. He spun around, grinning and more than a little satisfied when Shyarly flinched back from him. “Help it? Footnote?! Girl, I’m going to be the damn cataclysm! Civilian, pirate, marine. I don’t give a shit; no one will stop me from killing all the humans!”

☉

The steroid gave a satisfying crunch when Hody bit into it. He didn’t really need it, to fight a bunch of nobody humans, but the point wasn’t about needing the pills.

~Crush you with the Weight of Sins.~

He wasn’t sure where the thought came from, but he grinned in agreement. The humans deserved to be punished for the sin of being born.

Energy pulsed through his body, stronger than any other time he’d taken the steroid. When he took his next step, the ground shook, knocking more than a few of the human scum to the floor.

~Quake before me!~

They did; shaking in their inferior skins, scrambling to get back and away. As if they could go anywhere when they couldn’t even breathe under water.

The next step he took landed on one pirate’s leg, crushing the bones into dust. The human scum screamed, seeming so very small compared to the hand Hody reached out. The skull crumbled just as easily.

~Terror from the abyss!~

What a perfect way to phrase it; the humans would never know what horror was coming for them, blind to the darkest corners of the ocean as they were. All around Fishman Island, the very waters shuttered and cracked. An omen, Hody knew, of his coming.

XIV. Temperance

“Do you think sins are inherited?” Ace didn’t look away from the night sky, bright and clear with the moon swollen and low. Pressed against his side, he felt Izo shift to look at him. Far beneath the tallest mast where they sat pressed against each other, each nursing a mug of mulled cider for the chill winter zone they were in, their brothers and sisters were huddled in groups playing cards or exchanging stories. In his massive chair--not a throne he always insisted--Pops watched them all and chatted to Marco.

“No,” Izo said firmly, no hesitation. A knot in Ace’s stomach loosened. Izo, he had come to learn in the last year, was often teased as being the too serious middle child of the commanders. Marco would forever be the responsible older brother, age of the others be damned, and Ace, Haruta, and Thatch the young troublemakers, but Izo, with his blunt way of caring and stubborn clinging to routine, had his own niche part of this family.

Family. Ace still couldn’t believe it, not really. To him, family would always be a gruff bandit too worried about making sure he lived to give affection, a crazy old geezer living a pipe dream of him joining the marines, and two little boys in a wild jungle fighting with him for the right to be free. When Sabo died, Ace was so sure Luffy would be the only person he ever called brother again.

He must have been quiet for too long, because Izo heaved a tired sigh and pushed even closer against him. Stealing Ace’s body warmth no doubt. There’d already been six attempts to turn him into a personal heater today alone. Damn Devil Fruit.

“My father got arrested when my sister and I were young.”

Ace twitched, finally looking over. Izo was looking up at the stars, eyes oceans away but a small smile curling his painted lips. “I didn’t know you had a sister. Outside of the ship, I mean.”

Izo gave a little hum. “Kiku. She’s still in Wano; I haven’t seen her in decades but I hope she’s happy. She was twelve, I was fifteen, when our father was arrested and executed. We had no one else and ended up on the streets; for a very long time I thought it was the price we paid for being the children of a criminal. Most of the people of Wano agreed.”

“Did Pops find you?” Ace asked. That seemed to be how most of these stories went, as far as Whitebeards were concerned.

Izo gave a burst of laughter. “Oh no. I didn’t meet Pops till three years later and even then, originally I only joined the crew to drag Oden-sama back home.” Ace had forgotten about Oden--the previous Second Division Commander only got brought up rarely, the cold reminder of his gruesome execution when the Whitebeards couldn’t interfere being something of a sore spot. “Ringo wasn’t a nice place to live, even back then, and Kiku and I struggled to find enough to keep us fed. One day, Oden stumbled across us and offered us food. When he asked if we wanted to join him, we agreed.”

Izo turned, meeting Ace’s eyes. There was something far too knowing in his gaze and Ace found his throat closing up inexplicably. “Oden was the greatest man I’ve ever met. He never once cared about my past or my family history; he said choices made the man, not his blood. And Ace?” Izo leaned very close, smiling widely. “I’m really glad I got to know the man you are.”

☉

Hallucinations weren’t so unusual for Ace. Auditory especially; it was just one of those narcolepsy things he’d learned to live with. It meant that, while slightly concerning considering they were on a mission and weeks away from the Moby and Marco if he somehow got worse, the Second Division was generally familiar with their Commander’s quirks.

~We go now to our bloody business.~

“Shit!” Ace jumped, shoulders sparking into a minor fire when Big Mom’s voice boomed in his head. Banshee pulled a stick and bag of marshmallows from somewhere and proceeded to start roasting. Ace was so busy being offended that she hadn’t offered him one yet that he barely heard her.

“Sorry, Commander, not real.”

“Motherfucker,” Ace complained, happily accepting the crunchy burnt outsides when Banshee shoved them in his mouth. She kept the gooey center to herself.

He only had a small portion of the Second Division with him, though admittedly many were ex-Spades. Pops never held it against him when he preferred to take them off the Moby, but Ace always felt guilty as hell so tried to keep an ongoing shift of other Whitebeards to boost the numbers.

“You’ve been jumping like Kotatsu on catnip today, Commander,” Cornelia said. He shuddered at the reminder; Kotatsu got paranoid and violent whenever anyone let him near the catnip--Fossa still hadn’t forgiven him for the time Kotatsu broke into his office and threw all his cigars overboard, thinking they were poisonous.

“Bad day?” Deuce worried.

~Come, touch. But you’ll pay the price.~

“One of the worst,” he admitted, rolling his shoulders to put out the fire. Banshee grunted, but shook her head when he tapped his fingers three times against his thigh. Damn.

Over the year they sailed as a crew, Ace had eventually been forced to come clean to his crew about the depths of his narcolepsy when Mihar had come across him in the depths of a serious hallucinatory episode. They had come up with a system for Ace to silently check to see if the stimuli he was getting was real--Deuce’s idea, of course, for when they were in public. Sitting out on the back deck, just a handful of members with him while the rest kept their distance to ease Ace’s stress of telling reality from fiction, he was stupidly grateful for how much they all seemed to care for him.

~Woe to the bloody vanquised.~

“Marco?” Ace couldn’t help but blurt. Deuce shook his head.

“Oh,” Cornelia purred. “Hearing Commander Marco are we?”

Banshee cackled. “We sure this is a hallucination and not just wishful thinking?”

“Oi, oi!” Ace yelled, stealing Banshee’s roasting stick to smack her with it. She didn’t stop cackling, and even Deuce was trying to hide his grin. “Watch what you say to your Commander.”

“I don’t know,” Cornelia sing-songed, safely out of smacking reach. “Maybe we should call the First Mate. You know, so Ace can report his health.”

“Don’t you even dare,” Ace ordered. His face felt hot enough that he had to check if he’d accidentally burst into flames again. He hadn’t, but from the downright evil grins the two women were wearing, he was as bright as his hat.

So Ace maybe, perhaps, just a little, had a crush on Marco. A tiny, insignificant crush that would go away…as soon as Marco stopped being so hot. Probably.

“You’re worse than Thatch,” Ace complained--not whined. He did not whine.

“You know,” Deuce started in that tone of voice that meant Ace was not going to like whatever came out of his mout., “You could always--”

“If you finish that sentence I’m jumping into the ocean,” Ace deadpanned. He meant it to; one more talk about how he should confess his feelings to Marco and live happily ever after in whatever dreamworld people thought he had and he would kill himself just to save himself the embarrassment.

Deuce held up his hands in surrender, but kept snickering. Before Ace could start lighting people on fire, Jackson ran up, Den-Den in hand.

“Commander! It’s Commander Marco from the Moby.”

Ace choked a little on his spit. Sometimes, he swore Marco knew everything. Jackson passed over the Den-Den before retreating, Cornelia and Banshee following. Deuce, since this was a bad Ace day, stayed close enough to act as his reality checker.

“This is Ace.”

The Den-Den’s eyes were half lidded as usual when Marco called, but there was no smug smirk that Ace was used to. “Ace-yoi. Are you okay?”

“Uh…” he trailed off, looking at Deuce. His second in command looked a little startled, but nodded to show it was real. “Yes? I’m having a bad day, reality wise, but the sea is as calm as it ever gets.”

For a long second, Marco was silent, lips pressed tightly together. “Where are you?”

“About a week from the Moby?” he estimated. “Just left Foodvalten like, three days ago. What’s up? Is the crew okay?”

“We’re shifting course to meet up with you-yoi,” Marco responded, ignoring Ace’s question. Concern started to simmer. “Drop all your sails and increase speed to max. Pops wants you on the Moby ASAP.”

“Uh, yes sir. But what the fuck is happening?”

“It, ah.” Marco heaved a deep sigh, eyes closing and sounding more stressed than Ace had ever heard him. “I can’t explain over the Den-Den-yoi, too dangerous. Just--For once, Ace, no side trips or unexpected battles. Someone comes for your head, you get out and rendezvous with us-yoi.”

True panic ignited when Ace looked to Deuce and found confirmation he was hearing this. Deuce moved to the stairs, beginning to shout orders to get them moving faster. “Marco,” Ace insisted, “You’re scaring me. Is Pops okay? And everyone?”

“I--yes-yoi. Everyone is okay for now.” That didn’t give Ace much confidence. “Please, Ace-yoi. Just follow Pops’s vivre card.”

“I will,” Ace promised. He’d never heard Marco sound like that--like he was begging. “Just…stay safe, okay?”

A brief moment of quiet. “I’ll try-yoi. See you soon.”

Ace had barely started saying goodbye when the Den-Den went silent, connection cut. In his head, the voices faded into the background.

XIII. Death

The cards were big in Law’s hands. He had to use both to keep the deck lined up and from falling all over the floor. Next to him, Lami leaned heavily on his left arm, making it even harder, but he didn’t push her off. Her breathing had been getting heavier lately, her skin paling in patches even faster than Law’s. Mom and Dad had a constant pinched look about their faces, and Law knew they hadn’t been sleeping. Not with the hospitals starting to overflow. He tried to be obedient and help where he could to make it easier on them.

Law shifted his grip, trying to fit the cards in a single hand so he could draw with the other. These cards were bigger than a normal deck in every way, made from a thick card stock and hand painted decades and decades ago. A family heirloom from the Water side of the family, Law was careful not to damage them.

“Will you show me your card, bruter?” Lami asked.

Law huffed a half laugh. “Why do you always want that one, Lami? It’s the most boring card.”

She scowled, her small face puckered up in annoyance. “Is not. It’s the coolest ark--ara--arc-” She huffed abruptly, annoyed with her habit of talking too fast and stumbling over her words as she’d been prone to do.

“Breathe Lami. Remember what mama always says.”

She took a deep breath, another. Law didn’t speak, letting her calm back down and figure out what she wanted to say herself.

“Dreizehn is the best Arcana,” she finally said, speaking slowly to make sure she could get the words out. She always called the Arcana by their number.

“Oh?” he couldn’t help but ask. He tried pulling one card but miscalculated the balance and half the deck went sliding. He hurried to correct his grip, scowling. “Why you say that?”

She gave a full body snort, staring at Law like he was the idiot. “‘Cause it’s you, duh.”

Heat crawled up his face and he looked away, fumbling with the deck to pick a random card. The Sun came up, then the Five of Wands. Before he had to find a way to respond, the door to their room opened, light from the hallway spilling in.

“I thought I heard voices,” his mother teased. Above her shoulder, their father leaned against the doorway with a soft look on his face.

“Funny,” he said, “I could’ve sworn I tucked you both in an hour ago.”

Law ducked his head, guilt squirming in his chest. His parents didn’t need to worry about them anymore than they already were. “Sorry, papa.”

“Mama,” Lami called, stopping briefly for a coughing fit. Worry flickered across their parent’s faces as Law patted her back gently. She didn’t let it stop her for long. “Mama, tell Law that his card is the best card.”

Their mother’s eyes flicked down to the deck Law was still struggling with. In the smooth efficient movements that characterized her, she strode across the room and gently extracted the deck from his hands. With swift ease, she shuffled the deck and then drew one card from the middle. Law wasn’t surprised when it was Death.

Lami took the card eagerly, small fingers tracing the rearing horse, then the figure atop it holding a long, wicked looking scythe. In his other hand, the figure held a black flag with a white rose emblazoned on it.

“The maher,” their mother murmured, crouching to be at their eye level from where they sat on the bed. “A powerful Arcana. Icon?”

“The scythe,” Lami responded excitedly. Mama ruffled her hair with a grin.

“Ja, Lami. Powers?”

“Touch of death,” Law repeated dutifully. “And death sense. Supernatural stamina and reflexes.” For as long as Law could remember, their mother would quiz him and Lami on the Reaper. Sometimes she would throw in mentions of the other Arcana, those she knew of at least. Justice, with their acid spitting. The Tower, with electrokinesis. The Star, with the legendary ability to go supernova.

Once upon a time, mama said, the Water clan had kept an in depth account of all the Arcana and past games. A chronicle, so that when the next game began, the Reaper would be able to control their powers and have an advantage. But the chronicles had been lost centuries ago, and all that was left was the tarot deck and a handful of stories.

Silently, in the depths of his mind where he would never, ever say it out loud, Law had started thinking these were nothing more than myths. Even the stories from the Grandline weren’t as outlandish as the supposed histories of Tar Ro. His mother seemed convinced Law would be the next Death card, but he privately thought that his ability to guess when a patient would be lost had more to do with a solid study ethic and good instincts. Not an indication of being a demigod.

“Where are your gloves, Law?” Papa asked. Scowling, Law dug in his bedside drawer until he came up with two scrunched up balls of goatskin leather. His mother clicked her tongue in disappointment, but Law was more annoyed than guilty this time. He hated the gloves.

“When the day comes,” his mother murmured, tugging one glove over his hand, then the other, “And the gods awake, it’ll be up to you to remember your responsibility.”

The gloves fit him perfectly, having been made for an adult and then hemmed to fit him. Every year, his mother adjusted the seams to let a little more material out. One day, according to his mother, he’d have to wear them everywhere. “My curse,” he muttered disdainfully.

“And your blessing,” Mama finished firmly. “When the war is over, Trafalgar D. Water Law, you’ll be left standing holding all the cards. And you’ll have forever to change the world.”

☉

The HRM flatlined. Law cursed, pulling his hand away instantly, Shachi and Penguin rushing around, pulling out a defibrillator. Normally, Law would be reaching for the patient’s heart to do compressions instead but--

Too late. He could already tell she was dead.

~The tears of the damn always taste so sweet.~

Law swallowed a flinch, forcing his face flat. His head had been buzzing for days, but only now did the voices become clear. He called time of death in a cold voice, and Shachi volunteered to tell the family. Law didn’t feel like he was in his own body when he stormed out of the ship and to land.

There was no reason for the death. He hadn’t sensed it coming at all; none of the machines had picked up on a complication. It was a difficult surgery, removing tumors in the lungs, and he’d warned the family that even with his powers there was a chance of death. The woman had said goodbye to her children before they had begun, just in case.

She shouldn’t have died. Law hadn’t even put his gloves on to begin the surgery yet, just pulled her eyelids back to check the anesthesia.

Snow crunched under his feet, the thick forest of Lvneel towering all around him. Eventually he stopped, hands going stiff in the cold. He flexed them, staring at the dark tattoos.

~Eyes to the skies, I strike from above.~

DEATH stared up at him accusingly. A reminder, he’d once told his crew when they asked. They assumed he meant a reminder that as a doctor he was responsible for people’s lives.

Everything on his skin was a reminder for one thing or another.

A bird fluttered through the air. Hopping from branch to branch. It saw his hat and clearly decided it was a suitable perch. For several long moments, Law simply breathed, staying very still. Then, too swift to avoid, he reached up and plucked the bird. It barely managed to flutter its wings before it went still. Dead.

A blessing his mother had once called him. The bodies left in his wake would disagree.

Breath clouding in front of him, he returned to the coast and used Shambles to get into his room without having to deal with his crew. Let them assume him wallowing for losing a patient.

Years ago, Law had managed to bring only two things from his homeland when he escaped; his hat, and his gloves. One a gift from his sister, the other from his parents. He avoided using the gloves or even looking at them except for days when he truly hated himself. They reminded him too much of stories he hadn’t heard in decades and hopes crushed too soon.

~Never die, I transcend death.~

He hadn’t believed it. Not then, and certainly not now. Law supposed a curse didn’t care about that.

Surgeon of Death his bounty poster said. How close the Marines had come to the truth.

Slowly, carefully, he used his powers and a scalpel to pick out the extra seams in the gloves, pulling out the folded away pieces of fabric.

A knock at his door pulled him away from the swirling blankness of his thoughts. Bepo poked his head in. “Sorry, Captain, but the crew wants to know if we’re hanging around or if we should prepare to set off.”

A good question. The woman hadn’t been anyone important in the grand scheme of things, but she’d been well liked in the community. Better to leave before public opinion turned against them.

“We’ll set off with the evening tide,” Law ordered. “But first, tell Uni to prepare his tattoo kit.”

Bepo’s face scrunched, nodding his head. “Yes, Captain. But, er, sorry, but what tattoo do you want? I thought you said you were done.”

He thought so too. But there was no better way to remember than to have it carved into his skin.

“One more, Bepo.” Law clenched his jaw, considering. His crew already knew he had weird rules and generally disliked to be touched, and often accepted that he would never tell them half the shit that went through his head. They trusted him, seas only knew why, and in exchange he protected them. They’d probably listen if he gave them orders without explaining, but this was bigger than usual. He told everyone before they joined that sailing under him meant danger to their life, and they all accepted it. A war between demigods was something else entirely, though. “And tell him to set up in one of the bigger surgery rooms. I want the whole crew there; I have an announcement.”

Bepo looked visibly surprised and concerned, but nodded and disappeared out the door. Law wouldn’t blame his crew if they decided to jump ship when he told them they had the physical incarnation of the Grim Reaper as their captain, but he could at least be sure Bepo would stick by his side.

In his lap, his gloves sat benignly. With a heaved breath, he tugged them on. The dark leather fit perfectly, responding smoothly to every flex of his fingers. He’d have to get used to them again, like his mama had always warned him about. Law wondered if they were watching over him.

“I hope I’m still your favorite card, Lami.”

XII. The Hanged Man

When he was a young, Marshall D. Teach would sit near the docks and listen to the stories from the sailors. Stories of power and control, of darkness succumbing to light. Often, he thought he could do better. He was a pretty good actor, convincing when he wanted to be, and strong enough that when he’d rather use his fists it’d work out for the better. He didn’t see what else he needed, and he was so very sure that he was meant for more than just being a street rat.

It wasn’t until the saggia donna found him that he understood though.

☉

The voices woke him.

~Woe to the bloody vanquished.~

Marco. Unexpected, admittedly, and something of a problem. Teach had hoped for the game to start after he’d found the fruit. He wasn’t quite prepared yet. Didn’t matter, he decided. He’d just need to play ignorant and scared for a little while until he was ready. Then the game would really start.

~Crazy like a fox.~

Shanks. More expected. A greater problem. At least the old man wouldn’t listen to any warnings from him until it was too late. Pride was such a useful flaw to have.

~Crush you with the Weight of Sins.~

Ace. Also expected, though significantly less of a problem. Teach doubted he’d even need his powers to earn his trust. Though he made a note to figure out his pathokinesis as soon as possible; best to have it ready just in case.

~I’ll make a feast of your bones!~

The Devil. He didn’t recognize the voice, so unlikely to be anyone important. Maybe he could see about an alliance, if only for a time. He wasn’t surprised to not hear any of his crewmates’ voices; he’d chosen them for that exact reason, after all. Arcana meant secret, and you could never truly trust someone like that.

Outside, the sun barely crested the horizon just as wild knocking started at the door. Teach was in the Second Division barracks, but considering Ace was gone with several of his usual bunkmates and the rest had decided to find some privacy, he was alone. He gave himself half a second to work up what he thought was a wild, worried look in his eyes and then stumbled his way to the door, careful to knock a few things over in a loud clatter. In his head, Marco’s call screamed louder than the rest, only to reach a crescendo and go dead silent as he opened the door.

For the first half second after Teach opened the door, there almost seemed a mirage. A tall, broad blonde man rode in a horse-drawn carriage, bow drawn back and fierce expression on his face. Teach blinked, and the image disappeared, replaced with Marco’s wide-eyed surprise.

“C-Commander?” Teach stuttered, trying hard to summon panic instead of glee. So that was what a tableau was like. The saggia donna that had raised him hadn’t truly captured what it felt like, to look at another Arcana and simply know what they were.

“Teach,” Marco finally said. Teach tried to feel Marco's emotions, finding that he could almost taste the bitterness of panic, the sharp tang of confusion, the fierce chill of determination. Careful to keep his expression cultivating panic verging on terror, Teach absentmindedly tried to see if he could nudge Marco’s emotions. Almost instantly, his shoulders lost some of their tension and the panic smoothed out into caramelized trust. “Come with me-yoi. Pops needs to talk to you.”

“I--Of course. Does this have to do with…” Teach gave a nervous gesture towards Marco. He pushed a little harder on Marco’s emotions.

The Commander’s face swiftly turned into concern and support. “Yeah-yoi. Don’t worry though, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

“I’d never be worried,” Teach said honestly. “After all, we trust each other, right?”

XI. Justice

He ate his Devil Fruit when he was five and working as a cabin boy on a merchant ship running currents from the Grandline to East Blue. The sailors had all taken to calling him Silvers, for his hair, and it was as good a name as any. After he ate the fruit though, they got skittish around him; there were no other fruit users aboard and certainly no one who could hit smoke.

They docked at Loguetown and he didn’t need to be told he wouldn’t be allowed back on. Loguetown, much like the distant memory of his birthplace, had a thriving homeless culture, made up of street rats and teenage gangs. It was made worse by being so close to the Grandline and a regular stop for pirates; it took all of twenty-four hours before someone cornered him for the loaf of bread he’d gotten his hands on. She was bigger than him and several years older, but he was a logia and on that island, it made him the baddest bitch on the streets.

They all started calling him Smoker. It was as good a name as any.

☉

Smoker waited for his orders. The voices, the fact that he kept spitting up acid, the itch in his skin that had him knowing exactly where the serial killer from the last week had been hiding; it all added up into just a little too much for the captain to handle.

~...love you…w-aay.~

Now if only the weird fucking duo could stop sounding like a bad Den-Den connection, he might be able to figure out who the hell they were.

~I descend upon you like nightfall.~

That lady at least had the decency to be haunting him in full sentences.

Seas, what had his life become?

“Captain Smoker!” He turned from the window at Tashigi’s call, finding his second saluting him firmly in the doorway to his office. He blew out a smoke ring, then twisted to spit in the metal bucket sitting by his desk. It sizzled. “We’ve taken the ‘Silver Tongue’ into custody.”

“Where is he?”

“Cell number three, sir. Chief Petty Officer Mashikaku is handling the paperwork as we speak and you’ll have my personal report on your desk by tonight.”

Smoker grunted his understanding, making quick work of exiting the office and heading down to the prison kept beneath the base. Tashigi scrambled to follow him.

~Where he stops, nobody knows.~

The guards let him by with no hassle, each taking a rather large and unsubtle step away from him. He made a note to put them on latrine duty; such open fear of an officer was unbecoming and would hurt the morale of the citizens.

In cell number three, just as Tashigi had said, was a thin, tall man, looking more like a stretched out stick than a person. Seastone kept his arms shackled above his head, and his legs were cuffed together in iron. Knocked unconscious as he was, he didn’t much look like someone who had raped and killed four women in the last week, shoving molten silver down their mouths to keep them from screaming.

Smoker had no doubt of his guilt though. He could almost see it, like a miasma that hovered around him in a dark, sickly looking green color. Acid started building in his mouth, like burning slobber, and Smoker had to take out his cigar before it was ruined.

Before he could do something he’d get courtmarshaled for, a Petty Officer ran up. “Captain Smoker, sir! Call from HQ, priority Beta.”

Growling in annoyance, Smoker swallowed back the acid, feeling it burn all the way down. He’d need to figure out a way to control it soon, before all his cigars began tasting like old copper.

“He stays unconscious except for feeding times,” he ordered, receiving various acknowledgements. A Den-Den had been moved from the communication room to his office, he found, alongside the additional gear that allowed faxing.

He sat heavily after closing his door, head pounding as another voice rose above the buzzing and faded away again.

~Behold the Bringer of Doubt.~

“This is Captain Smoker of Loguetown, ID 6-2-1-1-8-2-5.”

“This is Vice Admiral Tsuru of HQ.” Smoker couldn’t quite help the straightening of his shoulders at the familiar gruff, no-nonsense voice. He’d both met and trained under her for a time at HQ and he wasn’t ashamed to admit she still scared the pants off him. It usually amused Hina to no end. “Please confirm your report regarding…unusual personal occurrences.”

Well that was straight forward, at least. “Early this morning, I woke to various voices in my head. I proceeded to go through concussion protocol and came up negative. The voices mostly abated, though several notable ones continue to occasionally flare, each saying a specific, repeating line. Then, when I was in the shower, my mouth filled with a thick substance. I spit it out and it melted through the linoleum. Since, I have continued to produce mouthfuls of acid. I sent in the report to HQ for orders on how to proceed.”

For a long few minutes, the only sound from the other end of the Den-Den was the scratch of a pen against paper. Then, with a deep breath, Tsuru said, “Orders have come from the top, indicating that this is likely the work of some sort of Devil Fruit. You are not the only one being affected. Your orders are being faxed to you now, Classification Gold and Priority 0. You are not to speak of your orders to anyone. You are not to discuss it over open Den-Den lines. If your orders change, you will be contacted.”

Curiosity bubbled, but Smoker managed to bite his tongue from back talk. If the orders came from higher than a Vice Admiral, then Tsuru likely didn’t know anymore than he did. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. HQ out.”

The Den-Den fell silent, just as the fax started up. Smoker took the time to light another two cigars as he waited. Eventually the fax stopped and he managed to scoop up the papers. The first page detailed that each ‘call’ he was hearing was connected to a person and could be tracked by how loud the call was in his head. It was made immediately clear to him that someone very high up indeed had also been affected, because on the second page was a list of sentences that perfectly replicated the ones he’d been hearing. Not all of them, though, and next to each was one of two orders written in bold lettering.

Terror from the abyss! EXECUTE

Come, touch. But you’ll pay the price. CAPTURE

We will love you. In our own way. EXECUTE

Down the list went, over a dozen lines, each with the order to capture or execute on sight. At the very bottom, where he’d expected Tsuru’s or perhaps Fleet Admiral Sengoku’s signature, was instead the stamp of the World Government, and the curling, slashing line Authorized by: The Five Elder Stars.

X. Fortune

People were cheering. Gol D. Roger had been executed and the plaza was cheering. Buggy’s captain (his father) was murdered, and the world cheered for it.

At his side, Shanks clutched an old straw hat, pulling it down to hide his sobbing face. Somewhere between his own wailing, Buggy noted distantly that for all his grief, Shanks didn’t seem surprised. He never did.

They knew their captain was dying. They had seen the article in the paper announcing his capture and pending execution. Still, Buggy hadn’t believed it. Not Roger. Not Captain.

A fight broke out somewhere in the crowd, far from where they lingered near the edge. It spread quickly though, and things started getting thrown around. A body slammed into the wall two inches to Buggy’s left. He was lucky it had missed him.

He was always lucky.

Lucky to be found by Roger. Lucky to have Shanks at his side. Lucky to survive all the chaos of the New World as a child.

A pity luck always ran out.

His dad was dead.

“-gy. Bugs.” Buggy blinked out of his stupor, wiping snot and tears on the sleeve Shanks wasn’t pulling on. Shanks had pulled himself together enough to start tugging for Buggy’s attention. “We need to get out of here before we get recognized.”

“R-right.” Buggy scanned the crowd, fear swiftly joining the dull horror in his veins. He recognized a fair few people and none of them were friendly. The Roger Pirates had disbanded weeks ago by Rayleigh’s orders and Shanks and Buggy had been left alone.

Shanks pulled him through back alleys and side streets, avoiding any large gathering of people and sliding between groups of criminals and drunkards, each celebrating the end of the Pirate King and passing along his final words, again and again.

“My treasure? You can have it! You just have to find it.”

Eventually, they got to the small boat they’d used to get there. It had a single cabin with a hot plate and two cupboards but that was enough for them to duck in, locking the door behind them. Buggy collapsed onto the single cot they’d been sharing for weeks. His hands were shaking.

Across the room, Shanks dug out a bottle of rum, gulping down two long pulls before he came back up for air. Buggy didn’t blame him, swiping the bottle when he got close for a drink before passing it back. Shanks drank far more than Buggy--said it helped with his episodes--but if anyone said a word about underage drinking today, Buggy would stab them.

Maybe he should stab someone anyway. Surely nothing worse could happen that day. That year. That age.

An era ended. Captain dead.

It didn’t feel real.

For hours they stayed like that. Buggy, shaking apart at the seams without Captain to pull him back together; Shanks looking for release at the bottom of a bottle or four. By the time the booze ran out and Buggy had managed to accept his new reality, the sun was beginning to go down.

“We need to get out of here,” Shanks muttered. His voice slurred together. “Too many pieces moving. No protection.”

Buggy gave a shaking laugh. “Go where, Red? I don’t have a vivre card for anyone and just because we don’t have bounties doesn’t mean our faces aren’t known. We’re a hell of an easier target than any other Roger standing.”

Rayleigh had told them the Roger’s were splitting up and that he’d take Shanks and Buggy to the East so they could lay low. Buggy hadn’t known at the time that he wasn’t staying with them; that it was goodbye. He wondered if Birdie and Sparkly with Old Man White would think about them. If they’d worried they’d been caught alongside Roger or if they forgot about them now that their captain was dead.

Dead. Guess even the Pirate King’s luck ended somewhere.

“We start our own crew,” Shanks said suddenly. Buggy blinked dumbly at him for a second but Shanks didn’t slow down, shoving his face into Buggy’s, grinning stupidly bright for the day their dad died. “You and me, Blue. We start a crew, get a ship, and when the time comes-”

“No.”

It took a second of staring at Shanks’s face for Buggy to realize he was the one who spoke. He couldn’t even bask in finally surprising Shanks, too busy in his slowly growing panic.

Buggy could almost see Shanks’s dream; the two of them as co-captains, a level headed first mate to strike a balance, a big ship that would never keep cabin brats but would be full of laughter anyway. The two of them making alliances, fighting in battles side by side. Going to Laugh Tale one day.

A beautiful dream. But it would mean Buggy would take part in the storm to come and that-

He couldn’t do that. At his heart, Buggy was a coward and he knew his luck wouldn’t last a second trip to the Grandline. He’d be a detriment to Shanks, and would get one or both of them killed. It’d be a nightmare.

“No,” he said again, stronger. Shanks’s face was quickly settling into a glower and Buggy knew he had to end this fast and hard if he wanted to get out of here. Shanks was as stubborn as Captain. “I’m not joining your crew. Not now, not ever. You’re nuts if you think I want to listen to some two-bit fool like you for the rest of my life.”

“That is not-”

“If you want to go off and involve yourself in some stupid game to end the world, that’s your business. Leave me out of it.”

“Wha--Buggy, you’re-”

“I’m no one but a pirate,” he snapped. Shanks was the special one, not Buggy. Whenever the game came, he’d only be getting in the way of a bunch of crazy gods. He stood, grabbing the bag he always kept packed and ready to go. “I’ll go my own way, be my own captain. I don’t want anything to do with Laugh Tale or the game.”

He reached the door, unlocking it just as Shanks grabbed his arm and whirled him around. Buggy could smell the rum on his breath, see his swollen eyes and tear stained cheeks. He looked scared and desperate. Buggy’s terror bubbled under his skin.

“Blue, please.”

Nothing else. Buggy supposed they’d never needed anything else; their relationship didn’t depend on a lot of fancy declarations.

Buggy almost caved. Almost said he would stay and then outlined all the ways in which the crew would operate and Shanks would laugh and bicker but would respect whatever crazy boundaries Buggy put up because that’s how they worked.

Almost.

Outside, the world celebrated.

Their captain was dead. Their crew scattered.

“Goodbye, Red.”

Buggy slammed the door on his way out.

☉

~Woe to the bloody vanquished.~

Buggy lunged up from bed, panting. For a second, he thought he’d heard Birdie.

“Impossible,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his face. It’d been nearly 23 years since the last time he’d seen Marco face to face and he’d avoided all attempts at contact over the decades. It had just been a dream, he was sure.

His head buzzed, murmuring in his ears. Before he could think too much about it, the whole ship shook as an explosion sounded and water splashed.

“Captain Buggy!” The door slammed open, Mohji panting in the doorway. “We’re being boarded by the Tulip Pirates!”

“What?!” Buggy scrambled to his feet, swinging his coat over his shoulders and shoving his feet into his boots. One hand grabbed his daggers as he began storming through the ship. “How’d they get close enough to board? Who was on watch?”

“Uh, the Funan Brothers I think. The alarm didn’t go up until the Tulips fired their first shot and by that point they were within swinging distance.”

Buggy snarled a curse, clutching at the wall as the ship shuttered in the unmistakable feeling of getting hit by a cannonball. “If they damaged the Big Top, they’ll be lucky if I leave them in enough pieces to feed flashily to Richie.”

He climbed to the top deck to be greeted by chaos. The Tulip Pirates were on their port side, exchanging cannon fire. He scowled when he realized there was a significant lack of flashy explosions. Buggy grabbed one of the powder monkeys running around by her shoulder. The girl’s face brightened considerably when she saw her captain.

“Tell the gunners to use the Buggy Surprise Balls and get to it flashily!”

“Aye, Captain!”

Combat had broken out across both ships, Cabaji during an admirable job of holding back a fresh wave of combatants--each with tulips on their heads for some reason--as he ordered some of their own men to the ropes for boarding. It didn’t stop nearly two dozen enemies already on the Big Top. “Mohji, get Richie and start clearing out the trash.”

“Aye aye!”

A bullet whizzed past Buggy’s head, missing him by an inch. He responded by throwing out a dagger with one hand, the other picking up the nearest stranger, swinging him around and bodily throwing him into another stranger that was far too close to a Funan Brother’s back. In a beautiful display of luck he would forever swear was planned, the enemy he’d thrown hit his target, flipped both of them over onto the ground, directly under the feet of another Tulip Pirate. That pirate tripped directly into a sword thrust from one of his own crewmates and in their hurry to pull away, the whole lot went tumbling backward over the railing and into the water below.

Any of his crew that hadn’t noticed him before certainly noticed him now and a huge cheer went up as they got their second wind. As if to punctuate it, the gunners fired off three quick shots that hit the top deck of the enemy ship. The cannons just sat there instead of exploding, a dark purple color. Any Buggy Pirate on the enemy ship quickly retreated to the Big Top. Just in time as the purple canons snapped open, launching a wide net that tangled up the Tulip Pirates and their rigging.

At that point, the other captain--no one Buggy had ever seen--called a retreat.

~I descend upon you like nightfall.~

Buggy blinked at the voice, snapping his head around. Cabaji stood next to him, clearly waiting for a response.

“What?”

“I asked if we should pursue, Captain Buggy.”

“No,” Buggy ordered. Another voice murmured in his head, joined by another. He ignored it. “Get us to the nearest friendly island and start on repairs.”

“Yes, sir.”

Buggy swept away, only giving a cursory look over his crew. No one seemed too badly hurt and if that changed Ega would come get him.

When he made it back into his personal cabin, he locked himself in the bathroom, staring into his face. His makeup from yesterday still looked fine, even if he felt a little gross from sleeping in it. He hadn’t gotten a single scratch from that sad excuse for a battle; a lucky break, considering that stray bullet.

Another familiar voice popped into his head.

~Crazy like a fox.~

Buggy sucked in a deep breath, sweat coating his palms and neck.

There was no way. In no possible world would it make sense. Shanks he understood. He was the strong one, the special one. The one with the will and power. Buggy was a flashy bastard but he was very glad for his current circumstances.

“My beautiful, perfectly sane, East Blue,” he told the mirror. “I’ll never go back to that hell.” There was no reason to. Because this absolutely was not happening.

Of all the people in the world, of all the pirates and marines and revolutionaries, why did he have to be an Arcana?

IX. The Hermit

Caesar Clown was an absolute, certifiable, genius. Looking at SMILEY--a short acronym for a very long name--he knew that he’d go down in history as the greatest scientist ever. He’d always been great at chemistry, but this creation would forever be his magnum opus.

Now he just needed to find a way to test it before that sanctimonious prick Vegapunk tried to shut Caesar down.

☉

Caesar had been wrong, years ago. How naive and shortsighted he’d been. SMILEY had indeed been great, and while Shinokuni was shaping up to be another breakthrough, he had Big Mom to thank for pushing him to new heights. The experiment on the children might only be in the beginning stages, but the information he was producing was slowly leading Caesar down another road.

~We go now to our bloody business.~

Madness, Caesar was finding, was quite a pleasant thing. The voices were occasionally annoying for their repetitiveness, but it was a small price to pay for the many ideas in his head. Why had he never considered using his chemicals on himself? Gas was all well and good, and he was no slouch in that area, but the potential.

~I watch you like a hawk.~

A few more test subjects might be needed, but surely Joker could be trusted to provide those. Caesar’s genius was providing him and Kaido with an army, after all.

VIII. Strength

On Lucci’s arm, Lady Elanor tugged him through the bustling streets of San Faldo. All around them, dancers and jugglers and a dozen other entertainers spun through the wide open roads, interspersed with carnival tents and stalls spilling with trinkets.

Lucci hated every inch of the place. Too many small corners to hide an ambush in; too many people making it impossible for a quick capture; a million and one places to hide a gunner. He’d taken the mission of wooing Elanor in order to find where her late father had hidden some very important documents without complaint, but now he wished he’d made Kaku do it instead. Kaku, at least, would’ve appreciated Elanor dragging him to San Faldo for their six month anniversary.

Gods save him from rich heiresses.

“Oh, Robby, look!” She tugged at his arm and he plastered an appropriately besotted look on his face, commonplace for ‘Robby’, as he followed her finger to find--

“A cartomancer?” Lucci couldn’t help but sneer. On his shoulder, Hattori hooted dismissively.

“A what?” Elanor asked with a frown, staring at the brightly colored carnival tent with Tarot Reader etched into the front flap.

“It’s someone who practices cartomancy.” At her blank look, he added, “The art of using cards to predict the future.”

“Why didn’t you just say that, silly,” she giggled. Lucci suppressed a full body twitch. Next time Spandum suggested a seduction mission for Lucci, he’d light him on fire. “Come on, I want to get our future read.”

“Really?” he couldn’t help but ask. Hattori nipped his ear to remind him to stay in character.

“You don’t believe in it?” Elanor asked, sounding aghast.

Lucci did some quick mental gymnastics to figure out what answer would be more likely to help him complete his mission. Pasting as gentle and sweet a smile he could on his face, he swallowed back his gag reflex and said, “I just don’t see why I would need to know the future when I have you right now.”

As predicted, her face flushed red, but she continued to pull him across the street. “You’re such a sweet talker, Robby. Come get your future told with me.”

With no other choice, Lucci followed her under the heavy fabric door. Hattori coughed and flew to perch on one of the precarious pillow stacks close to the ground and away from the miasma of incense filling the tent. The entire place, Lucci noted immediately, was filled with soft cushions and colorful blankets, the only real furniture being a heavy, round table in the center with an old woman sitting behind it. Besides where they came in, there was another cut in the fabric to allow a back exit that Lucci kept an eye on as Elanor sat excitedly and began chatting away. The tarot reader was an older woman with thick laugh lines and bright hazel eyes that burned gold in the low lamplight. She wore the same overly layered silk outfits that everyone in San Faldo seemed to favor, clearly trying to resemble the classic gypsy stereotype that fools like Elanor always bought into.

He only half listened, keeping a passively interested face turned to the two women while he mentally contemplated who he was going to spar with first when he got back to Enies. The longer he was here, the more it seemed unlikely this mission would have any actual fighting involved. Elanor would be easy to stage an accident for, and he’d go insane if he didn’t get some exercise soon. Kaku was his best bet for a good match, being both strong and skilled, but Jabra was so very easy to annoy into a full on rage which at least satisfied the part of Lucci that was pure animal. Maybe if he asked Kaku for a spar in public it would annoy Jabra enough into throwing himself at him and then Lucci wouldn’t have to take responsibility for his broken bones--

“Isn’t that incredible, Robby?!”

Lucci refocused at Elanor’s call, quickly scanning her body language--smiling, clinging to his arm, eyes bright--and the tarot reader--silently laughing but on the surface calm and collected--and responded with, “I can’t say I’m surprised about that reading, considering who you are.” Out of Elanor’s line of sight, the old woman raised a brow and tipped her head to him. As if in solidarity of a con well played.

“Shall I do a reading for your lover?” the old woman cooed.

“Oh yes,” Elanor said just as Lucci bit out, “No, thank you.” For a whole ten seconds, the tent was dead silent outside of Hattori fluffing his feathers, but then Elanor pouted at him, making her eyes big and wide and blinking incessantly like she had an insect on her face. “Come on, Robby, it’s fun. For me?”

Sighing, knowing he couldn’t get out of it now, he turned to the woman and waved her on. She scooped back up the cards into a neat pile, then handed him the deck to shuffle. He did so quickly, noting only distantly how well worn this tarot deck was, before cutting the deck in half and handing it back.

“I think just a three card reading will do,” the woman murmured, eyes distant as she laid out three cards face down. She flipped the first card, her eyebrow raising slightly. She flipped the second, then third, in quick succession. By the end, both her painted eyebrows had vanished beneath her cloth headpiece. “All Major Arcana,” she murmured incredibly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.”

“What do they mean?” Elanor asked breathlessly. Lucci fought the urge to snort derisively.

She tapped on the first card with a long, painted nail. A broad shouldered man sat on a stone throne with magma bubbling at his feet, holding a scepter with an ankh on it. “The Emperor, upright. You are a man of will and determination, standing for justice in a position of authority and preferring reason over emotion.”

“That doesn’t sound like Robby,” Elanor muttered haughtily, and Lucci had to agree. But it did sound like Rob Lucci. For a brief moment, Lucci considered that this might be a trap or assassination attempt. It wouldn’t be the first of his life, or even the weirdest.

The cartomancer ignored them, tapping the second card. A silver haired angel with black wings flew over a field of burning bodies. “Judgement, upright. You’re in a time of transition or will be very soon. Your life will change drastically and you’ll need to contemplate what it means for you or risk falling into stagnation.

“And lastly…” She tapped the third card. It was a little hard for Lucci to see, being upside down, but it seemed to be an androgynous figure holding the jaws of a lion open. “Strength, reversed. In the future, you’ll alienate those close to you through abuse of your power. You’ll lose sight of your true goal and ultimately fail.” She looked up, her eyes near glowing as the lamp fire flared. For some reason, a chill went down Lucci’s spine. “You have been touched by many powers, cacciatore. It remains to be seen what you’ll do with them.”

☉

~Behold the Bringer of Doubt.~

The hammer paused, mere inches from the nail. Beside Lucci, Paulie turned to look at him, tumbing up his goggles.

“You alright there?”

Lucci nodded silently, turning his next full body twitch into a hammering movement.

~Trapped in the palm of my hand.~

He looked up at where Hattori perched on a railing, and for half a second, he would’ve sworn he was looking down at himself. Lucci blinked, and the image vanished. A part of his Devil Fruit he’d never discovered before? No, impossible.

~The tears of the damned always taste so sweet.~

No matter, Lucci decided. Whatever it was could wait until he finished the mission.

VII. The Chariot

The blue fire trailed his arm, threaded with gold and glowing among the street corner. He flipped, legs and fire following, keeping his movements smooth and to the tempo of the singing around the corner bend. The crowd ‘oohs’ when he landed on one hand, pivoting while his tail feathers spin around his body. Coins and crumbled bills dropped into the hat a few feet in front of him. Probably enough for his dinner tonight, Marco decided. He spread his tail feathers into a curtain of blue, bringing his whole body low only to lunge into the air as a full bird. He held the shift, wings spread and fire on display, for half a beat before front flipping and landing as a human. As the crowd clapped, Marco took a bow, swiping up the hat and walking across the front of the group to take final donations as they all began dispercing.

With that done, he pulled off the loose, bright blue cloth he’d half wrapped over one shoulder and threaded it through his pants as a belt. Scrunched up instead of spread, it looked significantly less translucent than it did against his torso.

“You dance like a Romani,” someone said. Marco looked up to find a tall woman, probably in her early twenties with pale blue hair and a cutlass hanging by her waist. She dropped a handful of bills into the hat.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he offered respectfully, though he wasn’t sure if it was for the bills or the comment.

“Where’d you learn to dance like that, kid?”

“I’m not a kid-yoi,” he said before he could help himself. Just because he was a little short and had big eyes, everyone assumed he was younger than he was. “I’m fourteen.”

“And in my eyes, that makes you a kid.” He scowled, which only made her laugh brightly. “You look grumpier than my brother. I didn’t think that was possible.”

He huffed, offended and amused. He didn’t see anyone traveling with her, but he’d spent enough time by the docks to know a pirate when he saw one. They all had this willful ease to them, as if the world couldn’t touch them. Marco wondered if she was the captain. She had a cape pinned to her shirt which was almost like a captain’s coat.

“You going to answer my question?”

“Why should I-yoi?” Marco asked. He was being a little shit, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. “You could be a weirdo for all I know.”

“Oh, I’m definitely a weirdo,” she laughed. “But a curious one.”

Marco waffled for a moment, but in the end couldn’t see how it would hurt. “My ma was in a circus as a fortune teller years ago and taught me a few tricks she’d picked up-yoi. I didn’t know the moves were Romani.”

The woman gave an impressed whistle. “Your ma still around?” He pinched his lips, which was the only answer she needed. Orphans weren’t anything special in those days. Surprisingly, she didn’t offer empty condolences or ask about an orphanage. It made her better than every other nosy old timer he’d met. “You any good with the fortune telling? My brother has a whole ‘magic’ schtick going and I want to show him up.”

Marco considered it, scratching the back of his head. He still had his ma’s tarot deck, worn from use. It was the only thing of hers he still had, besides the shawl he used as a belt. He recited the lessons and stories she used to tell him when he had trouble sleeping thanks to his Devil Fruit, so he could probably handle teaching someone else. “I ain’t cheap-yoi.”

The woman cackled, whole body shaking. “Damn, kid, you sound like a pirate. Alright, tell me your name and price.”

“Marco. And to start, you can stop calling me kid and buy me dinner-yoi.”

“Marco, eh? Alright. I’m Whitey Bay, lad. Remind me to introduce you to my captain after our lessons. He’d love you.”

☉

Marco couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t anything new, since his Devil Fruit had thoroughly fucked with everything to do with his body. No one on watch questioned him walking around during the awkward part of the night that came after the late night owls going to bed but before the early birds got up. He’d heard more than one new brother or sister asking the old timers if he was secretly a ghost. He felt it, sometimes. Tonight more literally than usual.

The Moby Dick was a gargantuan ship with more than a few strange characteristics. The infirmary, for example, shared a wall with the galley but because of space management to allow for first level rooms for the giant-blooded members of the crew, the actual path to get from one to the other involved a five minute walk of twisting corridors. Every now and again, Marco had the delight of seeing someone ask why they couldn’t just knock a hole in the wall to create a new doorway and earn an hour long rant from Fossa that no, you couldn’t just open walls willy nilly, did you want to hurt the Moby you dumbass, construction is more complicated than that.

Inside the galley, alone save for the pot of tea that Thatch, as always, had left him needing only to be boiled in case of midnight wanderings, Marco contemplated the wall. It was a nice wall, thick and sturdy as everything else on the Moby, made of Adam wood and well loved. Stained a little from various food fights and with one long, thick purple line slashing through it from one memorable prank war.

The pot whistled, so Marco poured himself a cup and carefully washed the kettle and left it to dry so Thatch wouldn’t have to. Then, cupping his mug to warm his fingers, he stepped up to the wall. He tapped it, once, twice. Still as solid as ever.

Seas and skies, maybe he was just going insane.

“Alright, Moby,” he muttered, gently placing one palm flat against the wall. “I’m trusting you to keep my secrets.” All around him, the ship seemed to creak, just a little. He’d never seen a klabautermann, but various members of the crew had sworn up and down that a rope was just in the right place to save their life, or that repairs had happened without the eleventh’s doing. A living ship wasn’t the strangest thing Marco had ever seen.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Marco fell forward into--and then through--the wall. He blinked his eyes open, finding the neatly made empty beds of the infirmary all around him. He tapped his skin, then the wall. Solid. No burst of blue fire or damage to the Moby. The tea hadn’t even spilled.

So maybe he hadn’t been dreaming when he’d walked out of his room without opening the door.

~I watch you like a hawk.~

Marco hissed at the sudden explosion of noise in his head. He didn’t get headaches, but it suddenly felt like an orchestra began screaming in his head. Closing his eyes, he tried to pull apart the voices and what they were saying.

~Never die, I transcend death.~

That voice felt oddly familiar. Marco shook his head, trying to push it all to the side. He needed to talk to Pops.

He opened his eyes, blinking when he found himself outside of Pops’s room. He hadn’t taken a single step. Something uncomfortable squirmed in his gut. Knocking on the door, Marco didn’t wait for an answer before bursting in.

On the massive bed in the center of the room, Pops stirred awake. “Son? What’s wrong?”

In a flash of blue, Marco had shifted his arms, relief bursting in his chest when he found his Devil Fruit was still working. He made it up onto the bed in a single flap, stumbling when Big Mom’s voice suddenly blared in his head.

~We go now to our bloody business.~

Pops reached out to catch him, only for his hand to go through Marco’s shoulder. His face barely registered surprise before something closer to realization flitted across it. “Breathe, son,” Pops ordered firmly. “This is you, not a Devil Fruit, so you need to calm down and get control.”

Marco nodded his head breathlessly, trying to remember how it felt when he’d tried passing through the galley wall. He took a deep breath, another, getting his heart rate back down from its sudden flurry of panic and focused on the feeling of his body. Much like the early days with his Devil Fruit, he concentrated on the feeling of here, human, solid. Carefully, Pops reached out again, this time managing to rub a big soothing hand in circles across Marco’s back.

“Are you hearing voices?” Pops asked quietly. “In your head, I mean.”

~Crush you with the Weights of Sins.~

Marco nodded heavily. “Ace,” he gasped out, struggling to sort through the other voices in his head. They were starting to fade into a background buzz, though a few stood out louder. Closer, almost. “Big Mom. Teach. I think maybe King and Shanks. More than a dozen others.”

Pops frowned heavily, eyes quiet and serious. “Marco, I need you to listen very carefully to me, alright?”

Cold crawled down his back, but Marco nodded dutifully. He felt fourteen again, just joining the family and the weakest link on a crew of monsters. Whatever calm confidence he’d managed to piece together over nearly three decades vanished.

“Roger told me about this, back before he was executed. He gave me a warning, because he thought I might be one.”

“One…what-yoi?”

“They’re called Arcana. People reincarnated from bloodlines that once hosted gods in their body.” Marco choked on air, wishing nothing more than to laugh and dismiss this as another one of Pops’s stories. The voices in his head made him keep his silence. “Every millenia they’re reborn and a new game starts.”

“Why do I feel like I’m not going to like this game-yoi.”

“Because you’re not,” Pops said seriously. “Son, Tar Ro is a death match. It’s designed for all twenty-two of the Arcana to kill each other, with the last one standing earning immortality as their prize. The last time it was played was during the Void Century.”

In his head, the two loudest voices, Teach and Ace, faded into quiet background buzzing. His two brothers.

Just as equally part of this game.

VI. The Lovers

Reiju’s hand was gentle as she rubbed the cool bruise cream against Sanji’s arm. He tried to stop his sniffling, even though he knew Reiju wouldn’t hold it against him. She never did; that was why she was his favorite. In the dark corner of the Germa castle they’d hidden themselves in, no one was there to see the kindness she offered.

“You shouldn’t get in their way,” she scolded blandly. More a rote repetition than a true order; Reiju knew Sanji would never answer.

“They shouldn’t hit the staff,” he muttered mutinously. “Mom says it’s not nice.”

Privately, Reiju didn’t think nice was a word that would ever describe a Vinsmoke besides Sanji and trying to live by that standard was folly. For the sake of her brother--her one truly living brother--she didn’t say it outloud.

“I hate it here,” he eventually admitted, when she’d done all she could to treat his wounds and they’d curled around each other. Mother had found them like this once, in the dim recesses of Reiju’s memory. She thought Mother might have smiled, but she couldn’t be sure. Sanji was always looking for a gentle touch, and besides Mother, only Reiju would give it to him.

For a moment, she contemplated lying to him and saying it would all get better. That Mother would overcome her sickness and Father would realize the error of his ways. A sweetly tasting falsehood.

Reiju hated sweets, so she only said, “If you want out, you have to get strong enough to get out.” He dipped his head down, thinking of all the times he’d proven that he was clearly inferior to his brothers. Reiju sighed, tugging him gently under her chin. “Don’t worry, brother. When the time comes, I’ll get us both out of here.”

The oath tasted bitter on her tongue.

☉

Sanji twitched, pulling away the shaker before he could over salt the stew. There’d been buzzing in his head, lately, opening up into distant voices he couldn’t quite make out. His skin itched, going hot and cold, and he had the insane thought he was missing something. Someone.

Zeff didn’t comment on his absentmindedness, which Sanji hated more than if he’d been scolded for his mistakes. He’d been dreaming the last few nights, and Sanji knew Zeff heard him wake up shouting his sister’s name. He couldn’t figure out why now, of all times, Reiju was on his mind. He’d shoved all that away years ago.

She hadn’t even kept her promise to him.

☉

Reiju killed. She tortured. She executed orders with the flawless skills of a machine bred for it. She did not think of the distant, barely there voices in her head. She didn’t consider the dreams of her distant brother, wherever he may be.

Vinsmoke Reiju was a princess of Germa 66. She had no will; no desires; no oaths besides those to her father.

(Reiju was such a liar.)

V. The Hierophant

Charlotte Linlin was ravenous. She couldn’t quite put a finger on what she was craving, but oh, how she craved. She recalled, dimly, Streusen telling her when they first met that she should always eat when she was hungry. That it’d make her stronger, in the battles to come.

A fight broke out on deck; Xebec didn’t do anything to stop it, only laughed. Silver Axe came stumbling closer to her and he just smelled so good. Linlin couldn’t help herself.

☉

She called for a feast. It wasn’t an unusual request of Linlin’s and her children were quick to comply. Streusen handled the food preparation, of course. He was the only one to truly understand.

~I’ll make a feast from your bones!~

Streusen was the one to tell her the truth, after all. To explain how she was meant to be Pirate Queen, and the world had handed her everything she needed to accomplish her goal.

~Woe to the bloody vanquished.~

That was the Phoenix’s voice, she knew. She’d have to take care of him soon; no doubt Kaido, with his own large reach and influence, had a few cards in his deck too. No reason to let the old fart stay in control any longer. This was about to be her era.

But first; a feast. Katakuri, as usual, kept his distance and played guard. No worry about that though. He was a good, loyal son. Some of the rest though…

A feast, Linlin thought with glee. And all her family would come together in truth.

IV. The Emperor

Sakazuki leaned over Borsalino’s shoulder, eyeing the strange deck of cards in his hand. “What nonsense are you playing with now?”

“They’re called tarot cards,” Borsalino muttered, carefully pulling one out slowly. He flipped it, revealing an image of a man on a throne, IV. The Emperor etched at the bottom.

“And is there a reason you’re looking at some stupid cards instead of training?”

Borsalino shrugged, and Sakazuki struggled not to explode at him. His Devil Fruit was a new acquisition, and he still needed to work on his control. Admiral Zephyr tended to look down on idiots with fruits, but he respected idiots with good control over fruits slightly more. Sakazuki swore he’d be the best, if only to manage to kill as many pirates as he could get his hands on.

“Put the damn cards away,” he finally snapped. “That kind of shit doesn’t have any use.”

☉

He ignored the words the first time he heard them.

~The tears of the damned taste so sweet.~

Akainu figured they were just a stray thought floating through his head. His Devil Fruit was a roiling, bubbling cauldron underneath his skin, more out of control than since he first ate it. That was a much higher priority. Especially when, in his private training ring at HQ, he took a single step and the ground cracked in front of him, a long, thick chasm opening up. A new part of his Devil Fruit, he thought.

And then he got called to Sengoku’s office.

~Don’t look at this hand, look at that one.~

They were alone, no sign of the other Admirals. In silence, Sengoku slid a file across the table to him. On the outside, CLASSIFIED was stamped in gold letters. Akainu flipped it open, finding the first page a thin report of suspected Devil Fruit user affecting certain people. The second page made him freeze.

“I’m told,” Sengoku said coldly, face as flat as it ever was. “That you recognize those sentences?”

“Yes,” Akainu ground out.

Crazy like a fox. EXECUTE

We go now to our bloody business. EXECUTE

Never die, I transcend death. CAPTURE

Behold the Bringer of Doubt. CAPTURE

On it went, nearly, though not all, of the words he’d dismissed. Enemies of Justice, he knew now. At the bottom of the page, Akainu saw that the order came from above even Sengoku’s head. Far above.

III. The Empress

Boa Hancock’s back burned. It ached and hurt as she had never known pain to before. Curled into her sides, her younger sisters sobbed into her skin, shaking in fear and trying desperately to keep their voices quiet. They had already learned that attention was not something they wished for in this beautiful palace of misery and blood.

She huffed and sobbed, trying hard to quiet her own crying and find a way to comfort her sisters. “D-do you two remember the stories the Kuja used to tell of the First Empress?” She kept her voice quiet, ducking her head down to murmur in the ears of her sisters. Sandersonia sniffled but nodded. Hancock had to nudge Marigold to get her attention but she eventually looked up through wet eyelashes.

“The Queen of Thorns,” Mari murmured.

“May Queen sounds cooler,” Sonia argued quietly.

“Does not,” Mari hissed back.

“I don’t think it matters what we call her,” Hancock cut in, though privately she had always been fond of the nickname Red Witch. The stories where she was called that were always bloodier than the rest. Hancock could appreciate the sentiment. “Do you remember the story of how she founded Amazon Lily?” Sonia wiped her tears away. Mari leaned a little closer. Hancock continued.

“They say that she was so beautiful that all the gods of the world would throw themselves at her feet, begging for just a touch. She would strike them down where they stood for the offense and free whatever women kept them company from their bonds. But soon she had so many women with her that she struggled to protect them all. So she prayed to her goddess of wrath and beauty for guidance, and was led to an empty mountain island, where nothing grew. The seas were dead around it, except for the vicious sea serpents and nothing grew in the volcanic ash. But the Empress trusted in her goddess, and the women trusted in their empress, so they sailed to the island anyway.

“That first night, she had a dream, sent by the goddess. In the morning, she ordered all the women to hide in the dormant volcano that made up the central part of the island and set out on her own. As she went, her hair went red and her skin glowed; her nails lengthened into thorns that she cut into her own skin. Her blood watered the ground, and where it landed, flora bloomed. Trees and fruits and flowers, and still she walked. Eventually, she spilled enough blood that she grew faint from it, but half of the island was still barren rock.

“It was as she collapsed to the ground, unable to continue though her work wasn’t done, that a snake came and found her. ‘Why do you spill your blood?’ it asked. ‘Because my goddess has promised a paradise to my people and I must deliver it,’ she responded. Moved by her willingness to sacrifice for her people, the snake moved her onto its back. ‘Spill your blood then, Queen of all that Roots and Blooms. I will do the moving for you.’ On and on they went together, the Empress bleeding herself dry as the snake brought her to every corner of the island. Eventually, the Empress lay dead and the island blossomed, so the snake brought her body back to the crater where she’d left her people. ‘Behold,’ the snake said, ‘Our Empress has given herself for our future.’”

“And Amazon Lily stood for a hundred hundred years,” Mari finished quietly. “For the blood of the First Empress continues to give.”

“Yes,” Hancock agreed. Sonia had drifted into an uneasy slumber, and Mari soon followed. Hancock finished in a vicious hiss, “And one day, we will be as strong as she was. Anyone who touches us will pay the price. I swear it.”

☉

Hancock awoke covered in sweat, memories pushing at her mind, her nails lengthed into purple thorns and Salome hissing in concern over her. “Gloriosa,” she ordered roughly, stumbling to her feet. Her snake shot out of the room as she made it to the water basin and mirror she kept near her bed. Vines curled up and around the pillars next to the window, and as she watched they turned and reached towards her. With wide eyes, she gently reached a hand out, amazed when they grew several inches to cover her hand in a gentle grip. She felt stronger for it.

~Red of tooth and claw!~

She hissed, yanking back. Turning, she found no one in the room with her, yet voices continued to fill her head. The door opened, just as she gripped her temple and groaned.

~Trapped in the palm of my hand.~

“Princess!” Gloriosa called, and from behind her two figures ran into the room, catching her just as her legs gave out. “Sister!”

The doors slammed shut, leaving her with the only three people she could trust. Another vine reached out, curling around her wrist and growing downward. She twisted her hand, sinking her nails into it. Strength coursed through her, and the vine withered and died.

Sonia’s eyes went wide, staring at the dead plant. Hancock took a few heaving breaths and managed to get her heart rate down, the long purple claws retracted into her normal sculpted nails.

“Oh my nyon,” Gloriosa breathed, hurrying forward and grabbing Hancock’s chin to bring her down to her level.

“Release me you old hag,” she snarled mostly on instinct.

“Are you hearing calls?” the elder demanded, ignoring her. Hancock reared her head back, pulling free. At least it seemed as if this was something Gloriosa was familiar with.

“The voices? Yes. What are they?”

“Supposedly, they were once the heralds of the ancient gods. Now, they are the calls that mark when an Arcana draws close to you.”

Hancock stared at the old woman blankly. “I order you to stop speaking in riddles and start making sense.”

Gloriosa heaved a tired sigh, rubbing a hand down her face. Mari and Sonia hovered worriedly over Hancock; Salome had returned, circling into a seat for her which she gratefully took.

“The world is about to change, Snake Princess,” she warned. Hancock opened her mouth to order the hag to get on with it, but was cut off. “The fact that the calls have gone out and your powers are awakening means another Tar Ro has started.”

“Another what?” Sonia demanded.

“Tar Ro. A game to decide the future of the world. And it seems as if our Snake Princess is a player, just as the First Empress was.”

II. The Priestess

“Once upon a time,” her mother started and Shirahoshi immediately stopped crying. She loved her mother’s stories. Besides her bed, her three brothers swam up and settled around them. “There was a beautiful mermaid priestess who was a fair leader and fierce warrior. All the creatures of the sea loved her, and all the currents of the ocean guided the fish and merfolk to her side.” Otohime brushed a thick curl of hair away from Shirahoshi’s face, wiping away her fallen tears.

“But for all that the creatures of the deep loved her, there were those who sought her powers for themselves to bring darkness to the world. She feared that the battles that were coming would put those she protected in danger, so she prayed to the God of the Seas and Rain and he answered. He said, ‘I can give you the power to protect all of your people, but first you must swear that you will change the world in my image.’ With no hesitation, the priestess agreed for the sake of her people. So the god gave a part of his powers to her, so that she might have the strength of the ocean and the wrath of the sea kings on her side. Other gods saw this unfair advantage and similarly chose warriors to represent them on earth. In the end, though, the priestess was the strongest of them all and, keeping the promise to her god, changed the world in his image. She spread the ocean farther and deeper than it had ever gone before, connecting all people of land and water into one by the power of the currents.”

“And everyone lived together peacefully?” Shirahoshi asked, sniffling a little. She no longer remembered what had upset her.

“Yes, dearest,” her mother assured her. “And one day, they will again.”

☉

Her head hurt. Big, fat tears rolled down Shirahoshi’s face, her wailing near shaking the side of the shell tower. Outside, guards tried to soothe her, but nothing she did would stop the aching, pounding voices in her head.

~I’ll make a feast of your bones!~

She wasn’t sure where the noises were coming from, but they just wouldn’t stop.

~Don’t look at this hand, look at that one.~

Over and over again, until her wailing became screaming.

Outside the safety of Ryugu Palace, the ocean roiled and the Sea Kings awoke.

I. The Magician

【】

【

】

【

】

【】

☉

The sun faded last.

He thought it was funny. A final taunt. Even now, Joy Boy haunted him. That stupidly bright straw-yellow sun.

The icons had started fading weeks ago. Falling away from his skin one by one. He hadn’t even realized until he’d been in the bath, idly counting his trophies and realizing he was one short. The null sign of the Fool had been gone--another irony that left him furious.

Now, finally, the sun. He watched as it paled and fractured, crumbling across his skin like shards of glass, one last ray holding stubbornly on.

The calls went out as soon as it gave up.

~Crazy like a fox.~

The Fool. Always that blasted Fool. He’d have to be careful; the Gamekeeper wouldn’t be so kind to him now as during the last game.

~Quake before me!~

The Emperor. A useful pawn and well placed, though he could do better. Maybe it was time for Sengoku to retire.

One by one, he counted the calls as they stumbled through his mind. He found it as fascinating as he had all those years ago, like the Arcana’s own personal Den-Den connection. “Snail-web,” one of his allies from the last game had jokingly called it.

~Terror from the abyss!~

A powerful card, the Priestess, though this incarnation would be weak. Too young to understand what was happening or gain full control. Besides, not even he knew where her trident had gone after the last game, and without it she would be only at a fraction of her power.

The Tower; the Moon; Fortune. One by one the calls went out, one for each of the icons he would again collect. He kept careful track of who he heard, trying to guess the inactive card. Last game it had been Death, which had been a boon for him. Until Death had killed Justice and became active, quickly gaining control of their newly unlocked abilities. He hoped it wouldn’t be the Hanged Man this time; that card was always a dangerous piece and one he’d rather keep in his pocket if he could.

Over the centuries, he’d tried to keep track of the bloodlines even as he systematically erased as much information as possible about the game. He knew most of the Arcana, but not all. Dangerously, he had lost-

~Trapped in the palm of my hand.~

He blinked, startled. That had been the last-

He counted, carefully, as each voice began fading into the background. 14, 15, 16. Temperance, Devil, Tower. 18, 20, 21. Moon, Judgement, World. The only call he hadn’t heard was-

Of course. The Fates had a sense of humor indeed.

It seemed the Sun would remain inactive for now. How bothersome. No matter. In the end, he would remain, as he always had.

He reached out, connecting to the web of voices, using the same trick that a different Fool in a different time had taught him to spread his voice to them all.

~Let the game begin.~

0. The Fool

Buggy’s fever broke the day before Captain came back. Shanks had known he would be okay

Blue hair pulled through a large hat, colorful captain’s coat hanging from slim shoulders on a tall man

because it was Buggy and Captain never would have left them alone on this island if there was a serious danger to Bugs. Nona, the nice older nurse who had been watching them--an old friend of Crocus’s

“Aw, come on Nonie, so I copied off your test-” “I can’t believe you. You betrayed my trust, Cro.” “I swear not to do it again-”

who he seemed to have some bad blood with--had been forcing meds down Buggy’s throat for the last two weeks and it finally took effect. Shanks was glad for it, partially since he thought it was boring when Buggy was sick and Shanks had to keep his head down so as not to draw any of Roger’s enemies to their location before Captain returned, but mostly because when Bugs was sick he stopped hissing remarks and curses at Shanks and instead got all quiet and clingy, like he thought Shanks would leave. As if he ever would

“I’m not joining your crew. Not now, not ever. You’re nuts if you think I want to listen to some two-bit fool like you for the rest of my life.”

when it had been Shanks-and-Buggy, Blue-and-Red, for as long as Shanks could remember.

A broad man clasped someone thin and tall on the shoulder, grinning brightly. “You worry too much, Magician.” “You don’t worry enough, Fool.”

Buggy was, after all, the only person that didn’t think Shanks was nuts. Well, Captain probably didn’t think that, but Captain was oftentimes his own kind of crazy. While the rest of the crew loved him as nakama, he knew they often wondered about what was happening in his head.

“Ray, I love the captain, you know I do. And I’ve been helping raise that kid since we found him-” “Gaban, what do I always say about the shit that comes before a ‘but’?” “He’s hearing voices, Rayleigh. He nearly got Yui killed with this last stunt-”

Buggy, at least, dismissed everything about Shanks as ‘stupid monster syndrome’ which Shanks was extraordinarily pleased about. It meant he was glad when Buggy woke up one morning and started insulting him again, since that meant everything was again as it was meant to be in the world. It became even better when Captain swept into the room, bigger than life, laugh shaking the air as he scooped both of them up onto his massive shoulders and spun them outside. Nona began shouting about payments and Buggy’s health, so Rayleigh went to sooth her.

Shanks laughed, even as Buggy went a little green, popping his head off his body and keeping it above Captain so he could better yell at him. Eventually, Captain put them on the ground outside on a little cliff overlooking the ocean. Below, the Oro Jackson held the rest of the crew a little ways from the dock. Captain must want them to sail immediately.

Captain kneeled down

He didn’t fight the chains or dodge the blades or snap the executioners’ necks. Just kneeled there and smiled as his heart was pierced.

in front of them, placing one hand on each of their shoulders. Buggy’s head rejoined his body so they could better share a worried look when Captain’s smile went from ‘manic’ to ‘compassionate’.

“Did you find the island, Cap?” Buggy demanded finally. “Did it finally explain Joy Boy and all the rest?”

“It did, Blue.” Captain’s eyes crinkled around the corners and Shanks realized how tired he looked even as he smiled. “I decided to name it Laugh Tale, since the story was just that good!”

Heaving coughs racked his body, and the handkerchief came away bloody.

Buggy’s gray eyes went wide, vibrating at the thought of answers. “Well?!”

“Sorry, Blue, but you’ll have to figure it out for yourself one day.”

“W-What?! Captain, you can’t just keep it a secret!” Buggy’s eyes narrowed into a point as he sucked in a big breath, clearly preparing for a thorough rant. Shanks grabbed his shirt in a vice-grip and all the air went out of him as Buggy got a good look at Shanks. He had no doubt he looked concerned and lost, staring widely at his Captain (their father).

Shanks saw a lot of things, all the time. But no matter how much he looked he couldn’t see Laugh Tale or what laid at the end of the world.

He didn’t need to. He saw enough of the past to guess.

Captain knocked the straw hat off Shanks’s head so he could ruffle his hair, looking oddly knowing. And sad.

“Listen boys. I realized something on this trip. I’m too early.”

“Like Shyarly said,” Shanks murmured. Captain nodded.

“The game that Oden’s talked about, it’s going to start again one day. And when that day comes, a war like we’ve never seen will rock the world. Only then will it be time.”

Buggy went pale under his makeup, tangling his hand in Shanks’s shirt. Shanks knew he often hated the Grandline and what it represented

“My beautiful, perfectly sane, East Blue. I’ll never go back to that hell.”

because for all that Buggy was a pirate at heart, he was also a person that wanted to be normal. The storm coming was anything but.

Shanks wished he could see the end of it.

☉

~Don’t look at this hand, look at that one.~

The calls blended together in a mass of noise, past and future, present lost somewhere in between. Faces blurred, images flashing so fast they made Shanks dizzy.

~Where he stops, nobody knows.~

It was the first time in a very long time that he was sober and everything around him seemed unreal somehow, like time had looped back around and flattened into a pancake and he was lost somewhere in the batter.

Then, as the sun flashed across the ocean in searing yellow, he refocused. Benn was at his side, patiently waiting to decide their course. The Red Force rocked below him. His Jolly Roger snapped in the wind.

~Let the game begin.~

He reached out to the web of voices, to the world. A warning and promise. Threat and reassurance.

~Hail Tar Ro.~

#One Piece #fanfiction #my writing #one shot #ambiguous ending #long post #20k words

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another-shameless-fangirl · 2 years

Text

Reap What is Sown- Chapter 4

Summary- Desperate to find their missing son, Jack and Maddie summon Phantom for help as the last one to see Danny alive. Their years of hatred for ghosts have come to a boiling point and Phantom is not cooperating. The hunters will have to try to convince the ghost to bring their son back to them by any means necessary.

Good or bad, at the end of the night, the family will have to reap what they have sown. Happy ending.

Tags: Angst with a happy ending, fanon typical torture, no dissection, Danny wants to be Phantom full time, kinda suicidal thoughts if you think about it, electric shock torture, Danny gets a hug, there's a lot of hurting and yelling first though, some blood

Warning- Aftermath of torture. He gets a hug after some crying though.

Tumblr links-

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Complete on Ao3

Continue on tumblr below cut

Maddie had not been counting how many times her fingers twisted the plastic knob. The digits were stiff and she had sat on the floor leaning against the machine feeling the hum of the delicate parts through her side. She had taken her goggles off and they hung behind her head with the hood to her suit. She couldn’t see through the lenses anymore. Her eyes had watered and the salt had dried making them unusable. Her ears rang in the silence. Compared to the screams and the crackle of electricity, it was almost a deafening quiet. The Phantom laid on its side curled in on itself and the very air was stale and tired.

She kept her resolve. She asked again, the same question.

"What have you done to my boy?"

The ghost boy had been silent for almost an hour even taking the last two shocks with grit teeth. It no longer tried to lie. The creature had turned its legs into a wispy tail, likely to conserve energy. It floated above the floor like a fog as if not completely stable.

Another power had manifested a few times. A white ring had appeared blindingly bright but always vanished before it could do any harm even as Phantom seemed to concentrate through the pain whenever it had come up.

Maddie’s bandages had bled through again. About 40 minutes ago there had been a reprieve to change the wrapping and she would not let her husband see the wound. He did see the way she favored her right side and how her face had begun to pale in the green light. The hunters had been up all night, 2 nights in a row. Her vision blurred but she was just tired. She could keep going as long as it took. Stale adrenaline pumped through them both though Jack had taken to sitting on the floor closer to the ghost but distant.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

Danny couldn't be dead. They were his parents, they should have felt something. It was a cosmic thing, the bond between parent and child was strong. They would have felt if their child had been snuffed out especially if it was done by a malevolent spirit. Would they have noticed? Guilt panged through Jack's chest again. How much of Phantom's tale was true? Were they that horrible that Danny had told Phantom stories of them and the ghost really decided he was better off dead?

No. Of course not. Phantom was hiding something.

“Why did he want you to take him away?” Jack asked and Maddie looked at him with bloodshot eyes. Phantom made the first sound it had made in some time with a scoff. It had been long enough that Jack could tell what it meant.

Why bother? You wouldn’t believe me anyway.

Useless. “Let’s call a break,” he said and Maddie took a moment then shook her head. “C’mon honey. You’re hurt. You need to get that looked at. If the tissue necr-”

“I’m not going anywhere without my son.” Her voice cracked from the stress, the lack of water and sleep. They were so tired. Phantom may be feeling fatigue from the constant disruption of its form and the pain but that was nothing compared to the days knowing that Danny was somewhere else. It was agony.

There was nothing in the first aid kit that could help. Disinfect maybe and stay the blood flow but the hospital was close by. The emergency plan for anything more intense than a cut or burn was to call for the quarantine sector to be set up to receive them until they could decontaminate then be treated for the injuries. Letting the wound fester this way was never the plan.

“Just go.” Jack startled and looked across the floor at the ghost. It’s voice was so young and tired even though it was just a projection. “I’ll probably be here when you get back…” Was that a joke? The man watched a moment longer but the creature did not move.

“Why do you care?” Maddie scathed but so much of the poison had seeped out of her voice over time.

“‘Cause that would be an awful way to lose a leg.” The ghost turned its head toward the woman slightly but not enough that it could see her with both dull green eyes. The ghost looked washed out in the light green glow.

“If you really care about my well-being you would tell me where Danny is.” She couldn’t bring herself to ask where his body might be because there wasn’t a body, there was only her boy and they would bring him back alive if it killed them in the process.

The ghost was silent for a long moment then did speak again. The words were not a response to the prompt.

“Danny didn’t pass his testing for college. Or get the scholarships he applied for.”

“What?” Jack straightened. This was the first time he had heard of Danny having any trouble in school since he was a freshman. Another thing they didn’t know. Phantom really was trying to hurt them while they’re down. Jack clenched his jaw as the monster told them that then instead of answering but he could play along. It needed to keep talking. “Danny’s a bright kid. Those ACT and SAT and whatever-Ts are no match for Fenton intellect.”

Phantom laughed but it was humorless.

“He got low. Like really low. Then none of the junior scholarships accepted him so there’s no money for him to go to college.” It bit its lip as if the words had slipped out without permission, like it couldn’t help but rub in their face that it knew more and more about their son. Jack shifted from where he sat on the ground and Maddie sat up straighter. The words were solid, no flippant tones and the sentences seemed to ground the ghost boy. The vapor that was Phantom’s legs swirled tighter making a more opaque fog and the legs began to form again, still dull at the edges. Was that why Danny had wanted to go with Phantom?

“We don’t care about that. Danny can retake those tests and apply for senior scholarships. If nothing else we can pay for it and he’ll get a job.” Jazz had gotten a full ride to Yale and the idea of that much student debt wasn’t ideal but they would make it work.

“He’s never going to be a real astronaut,” Phantom sounded sad. Jack opened his mouth to speak but the ghost kept talking like it had been waiting to tell them this all night. “His friends are going to college far away and Amity doesn’t have nearly as many ghosts these days.” The sentences didn’t seem to go together to Jack but Phantom carried on. “He doesn’t want to take over Fenton Works and get obsessed with work like you two. There’s no reason for him to stay in the human world where no one needs him.”

“We need him.” Maddie said tightly.

“No,” Phantom looked back at the ceiling. “You want him around. There’s a difference.”

Neither hunter had anything to say to that. There was a stunned silence and Phantom seemed to take that as having control of the room. It changed the subject to something so out of left field that both of them reeled.

“Would you still love him if he was a ghost?”

Terror. That icy feeling snaked through Jack’s entire body and his mouth dried out. Phantom kept talking as if not being interrupted was permission to continue.

“If… Imagine Danny as a ghost. Same personality and everything, he can walk through walls, disappear and fly... Would you still care about him?”

“What kind of sick game are you playing?” Maddie’s voice cracked after so long. “Danny would never be a ghost.”

“And what if he was?”

Was it a game? Some horrid thought exercise? No.

“Danny could never be a ghost. He would have to-” Die in a horrible way, usually violently and have something that kept him here on the physical plane. If Phantom had killed him and he had felt this way, it was possible his spirit remained.

Both hunters felt sick.

“He knows you hate ghosts.” Phantom pushed itself up on thin arms as if it didn’t hear her. “If I told you I just found his spirit wandering and took him to the ghost zone because he was scared you would find out he came back, would you even want him back because he’s a ghost now?” It sat down heavily on the ground pulling its legs close to the thin chest.

Danny couldn’t bring himself to tell the two people who should have been able to tell anything. Oh God what had they done? If he was carrying that much stress by himself it could strand him here.

“We could-”

“No you couldn’t. There’s nothing you could do to fix it.” Phantom insisted tightly. “He knows that if he were a ghost, you wouldn’t want him and it’s true, right? What if he hates himself because he can’t ever be alive again? You won’t love him dead, you can’t ever know he’s dead. He’s better off in the Ghost Zone. That’s how he feels.” It sounded so pitiful as if the creature was capable of this emotion- of shame. “Is he wrong?”

“Danny is human, alive and needs to be here with us.”

“He can’t be with you anymore!” Phantom choked out the words. It caught them both off guard as the ghost lost composure again. “He just can’t. He’s a ghost. And he can act like your son and smile and pretend it’s okay but you’ll never be okay with him being your son. He can’t stay in the human world knowing that. You’re cruel, hateful people and he really should have accepted that a long time ago.”

Tears rolled down Phantom’s face as it broke into silent sobs.

It was fascinating. The ghost really channeled the right gestures and emotions and if it was reflecting what it had learned from Danny about what this felt like, Jack wasn’t sure how they could live with themselves.

“If… If Danny really thinks that way then that’s our fault,” Maddie started slowly. Jack nodded and more than ever he wanted to leave the circle to pull her close. “We never wanted him to feel second in our lives. Sure we get… enthusiastic about ghost hunting but we would give it all up for him and his sister.”

Phantom shook its head and droplets fell to the floor leaving splotches on the silver and steel. It didn’t believe them. Jack Fenton had never been great with words but he was honest, sometimes too honest, and if the ghost had been watching his family he hoped that it had learned that about him.

“Danny is a Fenton. He’s going to be a Fenton whether he’s with us here, somewhere far away… And after he dies.”

Phantom sniffled and looked up at the words and that green shown in the light, so expressive and raw as if Jack could actually see the soul hidden somewhere inside. He swallowed and his tongue felt heavy. Tears pricked at his eyes.

“We love Danny no matter what. If he doesn’t know that then we haven’t been the best parents,” he sniffed and Maddie wiped her eyes. “I may hate ghosts, but that could never outweigh the love of my family. No matter what happens, he’s going to be okay. Danny is always welcome home.”

Phantom stared at him then wiped its bleary eyes. Was it moved by the statement or was it just filtering through the feelings of sorrow in the room? It looked at him again and held his gaze.

There was something in there that told Jack that the feelings were real.

It broke their gaze and Jack held his breath. Green eyes swept over to Maddie and she hugged herself tightly. It stared and for a long moment, Jack wondered if she would stay silent.

She nodded her head slowly and her eyes shined in the glow as she looked at Phantom. “He’ll always be my baby boy.”

Phantom’s head lulled and the tension seemed to drain out of its body. It was a sudden change and Jack braced his hands on the ground ready to stand up. Maddie froze analyzing the scene and for an eternity nothing happened.

Then the white ring appeared again.

Jack forced himself to his feet but the pace of the ring was slow. It snapped into reality and then split into two, each sliding over the ghost’s form in the opposite direction. The top ring turned the black suit white as it spread over the narrow torso. The bottom slid down and Jack saw dark blue.

By the time he had stood up the rings had separated, then vanished without a trace. Maddie crouched next to the machine holding on for dear life.

Kneeling in the middle of the circle was Danny.

He looked at them with tears in his bright blue eyes and smiled at his mother who gaped and collapsed against the machine. Horror filled her eyes with a new flood of tears.

Jack choked on a sob and leaned against the shield for support as his son smiled at him so tired but full of a happiness that didn’t belong, not when they had done so much to him.

“Guess we have some stuff to talk about.” Danny tried to smile cheekily but it only looked more relieved, more human. How could they not have seen it before?

Jack took purposeful numb steps and the protection circle powered down the moment he crossed the line. They didn’t need it anymore, had never needed it. Once the circuit was broken, the summoning grid glowed brightly, almost white, then faded that left Jack half blind. His movement spurred Maddie and together they half landed on the boy, half held on as if he would disappear again.

Danny, or maybe Phantom, didn’t phase through their hold. The solid presence of their son caused a new wave of tears and he expanded his grasp. He took hold of both his wife and son tightly as she peppered the boy’s head with kisses and Danny let out a shocked laugh.

Alive. He could feel the heartbeat against his chest, the warmth of life and safety and it was wonderful.

They had a lot to talk about. They would have to ask questions and wonder and Danny could give them answers. How did he die? What was it like? What was he made of? Was he stable? Was he safe? They were so sorry and they had done so many things to the boy on purpose and on accident over the years that the sins had piled high enough that Jack couldn't fathom being forgiven. Even as Danny hugged him back best he could from that position, he cried and hoped that love would be enough. It had to be as no words could come to any of them.

Guilt. Anguish. Rage. Confusion. Fear. Unwavering love. All of that could wait.

Danny was home.

They had time to reap what was sown.

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Complete on Ao3

Thank you so much for all the support I'm really blown away, thank you!!!

#invisobang 2022 #ASF Writes #ASF Wrote a Thing #Danny Phantom #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #Forgot to post this earlier

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Love Pages

➜ Words: 18k

➜ Genres: 60% Angst, 40% Fluff, Yandere!AU, Inspired by Death Note

➜ Summary: You've always had feelings for Park Jimin, star soccer player and cute boy-next-door. But it's been unrequited for years and you expect it to continue that way. Or at least until a certain notebook falls into your hands.

➜ Warning: toxic relationships, loosely implied smut, some victim blaming. This is not your typical love story.

The more he ran, the deeper you fell. You couldn’t help it. Not when the breeze was whisking through his dark strands, sweat was rolling down his face and his brows were furrowed in concentration. To some, it looked like Jimin was just playing soccer — a mischievous boy kicking a ball in the grassy field. But to you, it was much more than that. He was magic. Leaping through the air. Irises glistening each time the coach hollers and he smiles. The corner of his mouth tugged as his team members jump on his back. Jimin is the one who manifests the butterflies in your stomach. And that’s magical enough for you. “You’re drooling.” Jihyo is startling when she throws her arm over your shoulders and pulls you away, shattering your trance. She giggles as you scoff, finally tearing your eyes from the boy across the field. “No, I’m not.” In spite of your denial, you check if you are indeed drooling and your hand wipes at the corner of your mouth. “You have it so bad for him, Y/N,” your best friend laughs loudly as you shush her. “Relax. No one’s gonna hear. The whole neighbourhood’s gonna find out anyway if you keep staring at him like that.” “I am not staring.” “Uh-huh.” It’s clear she doesn’t believe you. “Are you actually going to talk to him or keep looking and making it obvious.” “What would I even talk to him about, Jihyo?” “I don’t know. You’ve been crushing on him since what? Eighth grade? Shouldn’t you know what he likes by now? What do nerds like?” “Jimin is not a nerd,” you defend futility and end up sighing a moment later. Jihyo has a point. But whenever it comes time to strike a conversation, your brain empties and all you can think about is how he’s actually paying attention to you. The problem isn’t that you don’t know what to say, you just don’t know how to say it. “I always end up getting too nervous and make myself look stupid.” “Need my help?” “No.” You glare as she grins. You know Jihyo’s definition of help is screaming his name for the entire school to hear. The whole soccer team would turn their heads as she’d wave and point to you. She did that once and you were beyond mortified. Thankfully, Jimin was considerate enough to smile and wave back. The two of you begin turning and walking away before you’re late for library duty. “I’m just saying, there’s only four months left before we’re graduating for good. What’s there left to lose?” “My dignity.” “I thought you didn’t have any.” You throw a weak punch, but Jihyo dodges out of the way and laughs. You know your best friend is merely trying to help. It’s not like you like being this hopeless anyway. But you’re aware that even if Jimin spares a moment for you sometimes, you’re nowhere near his league. As you pass by the bleachers, your peripheral vision catches Jimin looking your way. Immediately, you turn your head — heart stuttering. But then you realize he’s looking at Seulgi. The girl is standing at the front bleachers, sweater tucked into her skirt, cheering him on and waving. And he waves back with an even bigger grin. Jihyo doesn’t miss the interaction. You feel her hand on your arm, guiding you away quicker. “I heard Jimin and Seulgi have been getting close.” “Really? I haven’t.” Jihyo’s lying. The rumours are running rampant that he’s interested in her. You were hoping it wasn’t true, but of course he would. She’s popular and cute, and even dances. You can’t do any of those things. You can’t be those things— “Y/N?” “Sorry?” You blink hard, attention taken by the youthful librarian behind the desk smiling gently. “Are you alright, dear? Do you need to go home early?” “No.” You shake your head, feeling the weight of Jihyo’s gaze as well. “I was just thinking about something else. I’m sorry.” “It’s quite alright. I was saying how all the books have thankfully been shelved and all the things I needed to be cataloged into the computer system is done. Of course, it’s thanks to you two ladies helping me out recently.” The pair of you respond that it’s not a problem and she smiles before guiding you towards the back and flicking on the lights of the dusty room. “I was thinking we could tackle cleaning out the storage area today before we close up for the end of the year. It hasn’t been touched since the previous librarian.” She sighs. “I’ve been meaning to get it done but we’ve just been so busy.” Bookshelves on all sides and a table in the center, there are books without covers and ripped pages coating the surfaces. But it’s still not as terrible as that time you had to reorganize the entire science fiction section. That task alone took two weeks. Jihyo seems to agree. “It’s actually not that bad.” “We can probably finish it in a day or two,” you add. “You girls are more helpful than you’ll ever know.” The older lady breathes a big sigh of relief. “I was thinking we could inspect all of these and sort them into books that can still be used, donated or thrown out. I’ll run and grab you boxes so you can organize them. Oh and if there’s anything you’d like to take home, feel free to! Take it as a perk of volunteering to help out.” She smiles and you and Jihyo nod before getting to work. “Look at what I found.” Your best friend holds up a bright coloured book five minutes into it and you burst out laughing. The novel reads ‘You’ve Got A Dog in Me’ and aside from the ridiculous title, it’s completely tattered with a brown stain in the middle. “It looks like it’s some romance comedy. Whatever.” She chucks it in the garbage can and you notice an old guide on how to spank children from the fifties. It raises your brows and you throw it in the trash too. There’s a ton of books to go through, but you have fun looking at some of the ridiculous titles or synopsis with Jihyo. Some of them are able to be donated while others are in a good enough condition to be kept after the layers of dust are blown off. It’s clear that no one’s touched this storage area for years. The room is crowded, so with Jihyo at the front, you venture to the very back bookcase. You dodge stacks and bins, and squat down to the last shelf. Almost instantly, your attention is taken by shiny green spines that seemingly shimmer even in the dim lights. The books are large and heavy duty, requiring two hands to be pulled out with how tightly they’re stuffed into the shelf. But you manage. The first book reads ‘The Magical World Explored’. The second is ‘Dark Magic: Beginner Spellbook’ and the third, ‘17th Century Witchcraft History’. Latin and other symbols surround the titles and two of them are with small locks, the other without. Yet you can’t seem to open it no matter how hard you pull. What’s even stranger is that the textbooks are immaculate. It looks like they’ve been untouched. “What is it?” Jihyo asks at your ongoing silence and approaches with the same curiosity that twists to befuddlement you have. “Looks like something edgy you’d pick up on ebay for that witch aesthetic.” You burst out laughing. “I can’t even open this one. It’s like the pages are...glued together.” “Maybe they’re cursed,” she says jokingly and your next laugh is a bit more uncomfortable than the last. At the same time, the librarian pokes her head through the door, asking how everything’s going. You take the opportunity to ask her about the odd books. “Hmm, this is strange,” she muses, tapping her chin. “It looks like it’s from the previous librarian who worked at this school. I only met her a few times but she told me she was from a small village out in the middle of nowhere, so that’s where these probably came from. Anyway, she already passed away so I can’t give them back. If anything, just trash them.” “Okay.” You set them into the garbage can before continuing without thinking twice until there’s an interruption. “Excuse me?” There’s a familiar gawky boy with rounded glasses at the front desk. With the librarian busy on the other side of the library, you grab your best friend and quirk your head towards him. “Jihyo! Jihyo! It’s Namjoon!” “What?!” “Go help him!” Her face flushes pink. “No! Why don’t you?!” “Because!” You grin. “Didn’t you say that we have nothing to lose since we’re graduating?” “Don’t you know I’m all talk and no action?” Her last syllable is a squeal when you nudge her forward and out the side door where she stumbles into his line of sight. Jihyo throws a glare over her shoulder before she clears her throat. “Is there something you need? Or are you here to bother me again?” Namjoon smiles. “Both.” You watch the cute interaction for a moment before leaving to give them some privacy. Humming to yourself, you resume inspecting and sorting the books, turning to the back shelf again. And as you clear it out, you grab a stack of novels at the top shelf. Inadvertently, something topples on top of your head. Luckily, it’s thin. Not painful whatsoever. Merely flopping to the carpet— A pastel pink notebook and in small text at the front, simple words read ‘Love Pages’. It draws you in. Bewitched. Unblinking. Unbreathing. A mysterious magnetism has you spellbound, curiosity coming within waves. So you reach down to grab it, fingertips grasping the very edges of the few pages. You flip it over to the back and your eyes skim the white text on the blushing cover:

The human whose name is written first shall fall in love with the human whose name is written second.

The Pages can only take effect if the writer has the person’s face in mind.

The only way the Pages’ powers can be removed is through erasing the names.

A name cannot be written first more than once at a time.

Warning: The more naturally compatible a couple is, the more effective the Pages shall be. The less compatible a couple is, the more likely undesired consequences shall arise. Utilize with caution. You’re confused. You wonder what kind of prank this is. Whoever did it had a really detailed and elaborate yet creative plan to fool someone. But you wonder if they accidentally left this notebook here. You’re not sure if the notebook should go straight into the garbage, so you toss it on the table and continue cleaning. It’s not long before you come across a crime novel you’re actually interested in and place it aside to remember to take home. And it’s not long before Jihyo’s coming back in with her backpack. “Hey, our shift’s over. She said we can finish tomorrow. Wanna go grab fries on the way home?” “Sure.” You grin. “How’d your talk with Namjoon go?” Jihyo smiles, the usual assertive girl grown shy under the topic. “How do you think it went?” You grab the novel and shove it into your bag haphazardly without looking. You don’t realize a certain soft pink notebook underneath that you’ve taken as well. // It’s evening by the time you get home. Tired and grimy from the long day, you beeline straight up the stairs to your room as your mother’s voice chirps from the kitchen. “Have you had dinner yet?!” “I already ate with Jihyo!” you call back before shutting your bedroom door. You swing your backpack off your shoulders as you collapse into your chair. Your desk is cluttered with loose leaves of your bored scribbles, college pamphlets and school forms you never read. The attempt to make your room pretty and aesthetic failed years ago with your messy tendencies, but what catches your eye as you look around is the candle of Bundled Roses Jihyo gave you for your birthday. Golden lid and shell pink container, you reach out and uncap it to dig the wax into your nose. Even after burning half of the candle already, it still smells good. You smile to yourself, placing the candle back in its spot next to the lighter. The desk lamp is switched on and you reach for your backpack to dump out your homework. In a few months, you’ll be freed from ever having to sit down and be forced to do quadratic equations again. Graduation was definitely something to look forward to. But as you spill the contents of your bag out, the crime novel and a certain pink notebook comes tumbling out. “Shit.” The Love Pages stares back at you. It’s tiny print letters on the cover are simple yet annoying. You didn’t mean to take it with you, but that mistake’s gonna cost you a walk all the way to the library tomorrow. Or you could simply dump it in the trash bin now. Dust your hands off. Call it a day. But for some reason, you don’t. You don’t turn to stuff it back into your bag. You don’t shift to drop it in the trash. Perhaps it’s on a whim, riding the wave of procrastination, preferring to delay homework for just another moment— You flip it open. Min Yoongi Kim Seokjin Amane Miki Jeon Jungkook Kim Taehyung Ellie Windsor It’s funny. In a strange sort of way. There’s an endless list of names spanning across the pages, each line consisting of exactly two but the writing is starkly different. For some of them, it’s clear that they were written by the same person. Straight lines, small letters, the occasional loops. Yet for others, it’s chicken scratch writing or scribbles, hearts drawn on the side, thin lead to thicker ones. It looks like the notebook’s been passed to lots of people in spite of its immaculate exterior. As you flip, you find faded names barely legible as if they’ve been erased. More importantly, there’s more than ten pages that have yet to be written in. For how silly and complex this prank is, maybe it’s a good luck charm. Maybe these couples actually got together and this notebook somehow fell into your lap as a sign of fate. Maybe. It’s ridiculous. But would it hurt to try? It’s not like anyone would know. Plus, you’ve doodled your name as ‘Park Y/N’ more times than you could count. Secretly, of course. Compelled and childish, you reach for the pencil on your desk. You flip to the next clean new page and recall the rules of the Pages. And you call to mind kind smiles, half moon eyes and a sweet voice. Your pencil loops his name onto the paper. Park Jimin L/N Y/N It’s done. Your breath hitches. You blink once. Then twice. But — nothing happens. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.” You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it’s not like Jimin’s going to fall in love with you simply because you wrote his name down in some stupid book. That’s not how love works. You shut the Love Pages and shove it away before cracking open your algebra textbook with a tired groan. // It’s early morning when you’re trudging along the path to school, rubbing your swollen eyes that you’re sure Jihyo will make fun of you for. But it’s not your fault that you ended up scrolling through your phone instead of tackling the chem assignment and forgetting that it was due today until you were laying in be— “Y/N?” It’s an unfamiliar-familiar voice. Unfamiliar in the ways that you’re still not used to it. That you haven’t heard it directed to you enough times. But familiar in the ways that you’ve always listened to it. That your ears always perked when you passed by him in the halls, trying to pick up on the sweet syllables that rolled off his tongue. You’ve always hung off every sentence that he had to say. Holy fuck. Park Jimin is looking at you. “Y/N?” And he’s smiling, tilting his head, eyes tender. He’s so close and if your mind could actually function, you would realize that he’s just standing there by the school entrance as if he was waiting for you. “Are you alright?” “Y-Yeah.” The word chokes out of you and you try to shake off your nervousness. You muster a smile as your heart begins to pound into your ears. “S-Sorry.” “Good morning,” Jimin tweedles with a growing grin. “Morning.” You start walking alongside him. “How’re you?” “Good. You?” “I’m good too.” Jimin’s eyes are crinkled and he steals a glance at you at the same time you do. It’s a moment that has your heart stuttering in your chest. “It’s been a while since we’ve talked.” You’re caught off guard, unable to believe this is happening. But his presence is more than welcome. In fact, Jimin doesn’t know that he’s already making your day. “Y-Yeah, it has been. How’s….soccer practice been?” “Really great actually. We have one more game left. We’re versing West Side this time.” “It’s the final match of the season?” “Yup! We’re all pretty excited. Everyone wants to win but even if we don’t, then we come in second place in the entire school district.” Your steps slow as you get to the front doors, still wanting to savour each second and luckily, he slows as well. Neither of you are eager to move on. “That’s incredible, Jimin.” “Y/N!” Right as the conversation is simmering down, Jihyo disrupts any awkwardness that might settle. She appears out of nowhere and swings her arm over your shoulder. Your best friend gives you a knowing look and then to Jimin. “Hey there, Park.” “Hey.” He smiles politely, then redirects his gaze to you. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.” “Y-Yeah. Totally. See you.” You wave, still struck and baffled by the interaction. Jihyo seems equally surprised as well. And once Jimin’s gone from sight, she nudges you roughly with a sly smile. “What was that all about? Did you finally grow some balls?” “No. He was the one who approached me,” you murmur, not sure what to say. You wonder if this is the Love Pages’ doing, but that’s impossible. It was merely a prank notebook made by someone bored. // It’s hard to focus in class with what happened in the morning. You keep replaying the scene in your head. His soft voice. The look in his eye. How he was standing around and his smile lit when he saw you. It’s a record, a movie, that’s played again and again in your mind. Soaking every second you couldn’t take in at the time. To some it might simply be mundane small talk, but to you, who’s always looked at him from afar, the butterflies are still tickling your tummy. The world has never been so rosy. It’s after class that your head is still in the clouds and you’re trying to repress your giddy smile to yourself. You’re holding your textbooks to your chest as you pass by the field, making your way home alone with Jihyo at her after-school anime club. She had a small interest in it but it only grew after befriending Namjoon there. As much as she likes to make fun of Jimin for being a nerd, Namjoon’s the real geeky one. But that only makes your best friend and him all the more endearing. You hope they get together soon. In the midst of your thoughts, you don’t notice the soccer practice going on. Not until there’s fast sprinting steps crescendoing to your left. “Y/N!” There’s an out of breath shout of your name and you halt with your eyes wide. Jimin’s panting as his team members disperse from the field. He grins. “I thought I saw you!” You’re stunned and watch as he wipes the sweat dripping on his forehead with his blue jersey. You blink hard, mouth full of cotton. Before today, Jimin never approached you when you were by yourself — most certainly never twice in a day. You’ve never had this much attention from him before. “I was worried you weren’t going to drop by like you usually do!” “Like...I usually do?” “Yeah.” He steadies his breath with a cheeky smile. “I’ve always noticed that you came to practice. Honestly, you’re kind of like my good luck charm. It feels weird if you’re not there.” Your brain goes blank. You process a single word at a time. And you manage one nod. “Hey…” Jimin scratches the back of his neck, cheeks blooming with a subtle hue. “Do you want to wait till practice is over? I want to walk you home. If you’d like.” “S-Sure…” “Park!” his coach shouts and Jimin whirls around with a grin. “Break’s over!” “Yeah, I’m coming!” Park Jimin’s smiling to himself as he runs back onto the field — leaping in the air, wind whisking through his dark strands. In the meanwhile, you’re left rooted to the ground, staring at his backside. Your face is on fire and the butterflies erupt all the way to your throat. It’s magic. “—hot dogs down at East road….” “You comin’, Park?” Kyungsoo looks at his team member, noticing the quietness of the soccer star. Jimin smiles before pulling the clean shirt through his head. “Nah. I have plans.” “With who?” another interjects. “Seulgi?” “No, someone else.” Instantly, obnoxious ‘ooh’s fill the locker room and he rolls his eyes with a growing grin before throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder and shutting his locker. Jimin exits and finds you waiting meters away. Jimin runs to you. “Sorry for you leaving you waiting!” “It’s okay.” The walk home is a bit awkward. You’ve never had anyone accompany you other than Jihyo before — most certainly not a boy, and not the person you’ve been crushing on for practically four years now. You clear your throat and steal a glance. “Is there a reason you wanted to walk me home?” “Why?” Jimin is immediately alarmed. “Did you not want me to?” “No!” Your eyes look into his, equally as rounded. “That’s not it. I’m...just not used to it, that’s all.” “Honestly.” Your steps are synced together and colour blooms on his cheeks. “I wanted an excuse to talk to you more and get to know you better.” “Oh.” “I guess you can say I realized the other day that we went to the same elementary, but I don’t even know you that well. You can tell me if you don’t want to—” “I want to,” you blurt before you can realize what’s coming out of your mouth. Jimin’s eyes are as big as saucers and he nods. At the same time, you frantically turn away out of embarrassment, not noticing the way Jimin was smiling to himself. The comfortable silence simmers between the pair of you as the sun sets over the horizon, painting the sky in a pastel tangerine hue. You can hear children on the playground nearby, see the other sidewalk occupied by a couple pulling along a stroller and the grandma in her front yard pinning up her laundry to dry. And as you savour the moment, the back of your hand accidentally brushes against Jimin’s. It’s soft and you flinch subtly before glancing down. Jimin must feel it too because he follows your line of sight and clears his throat. “Hey.” His timbre is husky and nervous. “Is it...okay if I hold your hand?” You answer with a bob of your head. And Jimin timidly reaches out, fingertips first, and then his palms clutch yours. Your hands are slotted together perfectly and you muse how soft his skin is. Heat rises to your face. Heart stuttering in your chest. Butterflies a whirlwind in your stomach. But unfortunately, the moment is all too short. “This is it.” You stop in front of your house and Jimin lets go of you. He looks at your home and smiles. “It’s cute.” “Thanks.” You pull open the gate, eyes diverted elsewhere lest he can see how flustered you are. “Well, I’ll see you later, Jimin. Thanks for walking me home…” “Wait!” he shouts when you’ve taken three steps and you spin around to see him scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, um, Y/N. Would….would you like to...like to go out sometime to catch a movie or get some food this weekend. I mean you don’t have to, no pressure.” Your mouth is twitching as you try your best not to scream on spot. “I’d like that, Jimin.” “Okay.” A cheeky grin spreads gradually into his cheeks, eyes crinkled into crescent moons. “I should probably get your number then…?” “Sure.” The exchange is quick and then you’re running into your house, stomping all the way up the stairs, ignoring your mom’s shout. You launch yourself into bed face first, mattress bouncing at the impact. While your limbs are sprawled out, you scream into your pillow with your furnace hot face. You roll around in your covers, kicking your blankets. Jimin just asked you out on a date. He asked you out on a date and he walked you home. Park Jimin walked you home and talked to you this morning. You’re certain your heart’s about to give out with how fast it’s beating, that the butterflies bursting in your tummy’s about to explode up your throat and out of your mouth. You can’t believe it. You rise up in your bed with your hair in a disarray and your bed ruined, and you look over to your desk where the pastel pink notebook is. You wonder if this is the Love Pages’ doing. // “You’re going on a date?!” Your best friend is taken off guard, but when you vehemently nod, her confusion is overcome with excitement. Jihyo engulfs you in a hug. “This is so fucking exciting! I’m so excited for you! Oh my god!” She squeals and you laugh, jumping together. “Do you know what you’re going to wear yet?” “I have no idea.” “I’ll help you.” She grins. “It’s going to be fine, you’re going to sweep him off his feet.” “Easy for you to say,” you counter, “Your crush already likes you back.” “Namjoon’s just a friend,” Jihyo sighs and then her peripheral vision catches the tall brunette passing by as if calling his name was enough to summon him. “Shush! He’s coming!” Except you look him straight in the eye and smile. “Hey, Namjoon.” “Hey.” Namjoon snorts as if he overheard the conversation, a smile placed on his features as his eyes linger on Jihyo before he passes by. She remains nonchalant as if he’s invisible. Or at least until the moment he’s gone and she steps on your foot. “You were being way too obvious!” You pout at Jihyo, grabbing her arm. “No, I wasn’t.” “Go be cute to Jimin instead,” she scoffs while you giggle, hoping he’ll find you half as endearing as you know your best friend does. // The weekend comes slower than you wish it would, but arrives nonetheless. You’re waiting at the station — intercom noisy overhead, the sound of the train breaking echoing from afar. It’s the bustle of the afternoon, of overtime office workers and other couples shuffling amongst themselves with parents following their children. You tug on the hem of your dress that Jihyo insisted you wear. You’re not sure if it’s too much or if you caked on too much makeup, but there’s no time to overthink. “Y/N!” Jimin meets you, dressed in casual attire of jeans and a white tee underneath a black hoodie. “I’m sorry I’m late!” “You weren’t late, Jimin. I just came early.” “But how long were you waiting for?” “Not that long,” you assure and he glances at you before smiling. “You look really nice. Like really nice.” “T-Thanks,” the word stutters out of you and you look around, feeling conscious under his sole attention. “Where are we heading first?” “I was thinking of catching a movie, if you’d like.” “Sure.” The both of you start moving towards the exit. At the same time, the intercom announces the arrival of the Northbound train. It pulls up on the other side and the doors whir open a beat later, flooding the platform with passengers exiting and pushing to enter. In the chaos, your shoulder is roughly shoved and you’re pushed aside by the rushing mass. You wince and open your eyes to discover you’re losing sight of the boy with dark strands. But the second hopelessness begins to settle— “Are you okay?” Jimin’s hand has clasped yours and he’s pulled you out from the crowd. You stumble in a place where you can breathe again. Jimin smiles sweetly and you’re not sure if he’s an angel or not. “I thought I lost you,” you admit in an exhale. “Don’t worry, I would never let you out of my sight.” His grip is firm and secure. Jimin squeezes tenderly and leads you out the exit again — this time with you in hand. You feel your palm getting warm. “Sorry, my hand’s a bit sweaty.” “I don’t mind.” Your heart catches in your throat. You hope this lasts forever. The pair of you end up catching a romance movie in a cute, local theater called When Spring Meets Autumn. But towards the end, you’re not sure what it’s about. Not when all you can think about is the fact that Jimin’s beside you, how he’s leaning your way, your elbows are brushing. The way his arm ends up draping over the back of your seat. All you can do is steal glances at him. Your eye eventually catches his and your attempt of pretending you weren’t staring is futile. You feel Jimin lean even closer, noticing a soft smile playing on his lips. “Is there something wrong?” he whispers. You shake your head. It’s the opposite. This is a dream come true. “I’m usually more into action than romance,” he says as the both of you walk alongside one another over the bridge. “I can’t believe that actress died ten minutes into the movie though.” “Oh yeah.” You laugh awkwardly, not able to recall. Your eyes travel towards the cityscape and then the lake that you were crossing. Your ears perk at the giggles of couples in pedal boats, blue boats they’re using to cross the waters together. Envy stems in your mind. They sure were taking advantage of the warm weather. Jimin notices your fixation. “Have you ever been?” You shake your head. “I’ve always wanted to go in it with my family, but I never got the chance.” “We could do it now.” Your eyes meet his. “Right now?” “Why not?” He grins boyishly, already taking your hand again. It’s ten dollars for ten minutes and you split the cost in half, in spite of how much he insists on paying for the ride. The boat wobbles as you get in, but Jimin holds your hand and guides you, laughing while the instructor asks if you want a life jacket for the second time and shows the rules nailed onto the wooden board. The two of you get settled in and start pedaling with your feet. But you don’t get anywhere and bump into the dock instead. “The left person paddles!” The instructor yells and Jimin’s wide-eyed before he nods and follows. “This is actually my first time too,” he admits shyly as you finally get into the lake. “I wanted to look cool.” Laughter unabashedly bubbles out of your throat. “It’s okay, Jimin. You’re very cool to me.” “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.” “No!” You retort in the midst of giggles. “I’m being honest!” You both paddle to the middle of the lake and it’s a lot more work than you expected. You’re sure you don’t look flattering in your dress pedaling a boat but there’s no time to dwell when you’re having this much fun. At least not until you feel your toes getting wet. “Oh my god!” You flinch. “There’s a hole in the boat!” Water leaks up to your ankles and it’s only getting faster. “Paddle to shore!” Jimin shouts in the midst of laughing. You giggle and as if to make matters worse, the rolling clouds over the horizon begin pouring rain. It spits and then starts showering on top of your heads. You’re becoming soaked from both ways, but rather than being upset, you’re laughing and giggling hysterically with one another. Jimin helps you up onto the harbour and holds your hand as you run away to get some cover. You find some under a closed store canopy on a nearby quiet street. The pair of you face the road, unable to see far with the thick, heavy rain morphing the city to monochrome. Warm giggles fill the spaces beside you. “I’m going to be honest, I imagined the first date with you would be a lot better than this.” You meet Jimin’s eye and take the chance to tease him. “You imagined it?” But he doesn’t make a snarky comeback. Jimin is genuine as he is shy. “Yeah. I have. I like you a lot, Y/N. I think...I have for a long time. I just didn’t realize it.” It’s silent — the peaceful kind of quiet that lingers. As cold as the rain is, your face warms. But you wonder if this is how Jimin really feels or if it’s the Love Pages’ doing. Your trance is shattered by an embarrassed laugh. “You shouldn’t leave a guy waiting after they confessed, you know.” Jimin tilts his head, eyes tender and smile kind. “It makes it feel like you’re about to reject me.” Reject him?! “I’ve liked you since eighth grade,” you blurt loudly, the honesties pouring out of your mouth. They’re words you never thought you would have the chance to say. A confession you’ve always held in your throat. Secrets you held so close to you and were too cowardice to speak. But the compassionate Jimin you’re facing makes you brave. He grins, a growing smile that spreads into his cheeks and makes his eyes gleam. “Really?” “I have ever since you helped me in that group project.” “I did?” His brows furrow. “I can’t really recall.” It’s disheartening to hear considering that the memory is significant to you, but you elaborate as if you could jog his mind. “Science class with Mr. Chen. No one was listening and I was really stressed, but you helped me.” The recognition never seems to set in his eyes, but instead, they flicker down to your lips. “Can I kiss you?” You nod furiously and Jimin smiles before he leans in with heavy lidded eyes. His fingers lift to hold your chin and your eyes flutter shut. Soft lips meet yours. It’s a sweet kiss, a brief and chaste one. Your very first. And your heart feels like it’s about to burst. You can practically hear Jimin’s thundering heartbeat underneath the thumping rain. // The giddiness lasts an hour later. You can’t resist the enormous grin on your face even when you slap your own cheeks and tell yourself to calm down. It’s still cloudy outside when you get home, the rain subsided into scattering droplets, yet you feel warm inside. “I’m hom—” The announcement is cut short when you stumble on a pair of shoes. You catch yourself and look down to find odd brown loafers that don’t belong to your mom, dad or you. There’s only one other person. “Hobi?!” As if the day couldn’t get any better. You sprint into the living room to find your older brother sitting on the couch and he turns around with a small smile. “If it isn’t my baby sister.” “What are you doing here?” It’s not like him to visit unannounced, but as you step forward into the evening light, you discover his reddened eyes and the swollen area underneath is as if he’s been crying. Colour instantly drains from your face and your expression falls. “Is...there something wrong?” Your pupils stray to the suitcase beside him. Hoseok musters another smile. “Surprise. I’m moving back.” “W-Where’s Irene?” “She’s not coming.” His voice is hoarse. “It’s…..over. We’re getting a divorce.” What? // Life — he told you is what happened. Careers got busy. Staying together turned out to be more of a chore than expected. And it seemed like there were more arguments than there were proper conversations. Hoseok followed it up with a hard swallow and nonchalantly told you that sometimes things just don’t work out. But by the look on his face, you know he was holding back tears. You’ve never seen your brother cry before. “What do you mean?!” “What happened? Did she kick you out? For how long?! Where are you planning to go now?!” Your parents are in hysterics, exasperated and stunned by the situation. Your dad is tense in the armchair while your mother is pacing the floor. You watch the three of them through the gap of your bedroom door, not sure if you should intrude or what you would even say. “This doesn’t make any sense! The two of you were fine last week!” “We weren’t, mom,” Hoseok assures in a weak voice with his downcast head. “Have you spoken to her yet?! Did the pair of you sit down and talk properly?” Your older brother releases a staggering exhale from his lungs. “We have,” his voice cracks, “enough times. And...it’s...it’s over between us.” This isn’t right. This shouldn’t be happening. Your mother cries, “Hoseok, are you giving up?! You can’t just give up! This is your marriage that we’re talking about. This is serious!” “This isn’t just up for me to decide!” Hoseok retorts in a shout, finally lifting his face. “I can’t do anything about it when she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore!” You shut the door quietly, pressing your back against the surface. You’re as shocked as your parents are — maybe even more so. You were the one who saw it first hand. You’re the one who tagged along when they went to play, when Irene knocked on the door every morning to go to school together, you’re the one who sat in the backseat as they took a road trip down to the beach six summers ago. The two of them grew up together in this neighbourhood. They’re soulmates. And you know that best. Your dad’s voice is muffled through the walls. “—happened exactly?” “—doesn’t love me anymore……..wanted a break weeks ago.” Hoseok’s eagerness, Irene’s calmness. Their sense of humour, their ambitions in life — it all aligns like puzzle pieces meant to fit. And you’re not the only one who thinks so. Everyone who has eyes and ears would’ve thought that their relationship would be inevitable. They’re soulmates — better together than apart — and you could bet your entire existence on that fact. You march across the stretch of your room and sit yourself down in the chair. Swiftly and silently, you pull open the last drawer of your desk and grab the pastel pink notebook. Pushing your chemistry textbook, candle and lighter aside, you flip open the pages. Kang Irene L/N Hoseok L/N Hoseok Kang Irene The names are written without needing to blink twice, straight lines and big print. Twice to make sure that both sides are the same, that affections will be reciprocated. But you know it’s childish. You can only hope it works. // Dinner is stiff. Little bites are taken, each person nibbling on the food. No words are exchanged across the table when the tension is so thick. Neither your mom or your dad speaks another word about the issue with the way Hoseok’s brooding. There’s no point in making futile commentary, in adding gasoline to the fire after all, so you don’t press on the matter either. But ten minutes into dinner, the silence is interrupted by the doorbell. It echoes throughout the home and heads lift, eyes looking at one another. Hoseok is the first who moves. As if he has a sixth sense or a foolish wish of who it could be. Who he hopes it is. And as you and your parents follow after him while he opens the door, that wish is granted. Irene stands at the doorstep in a cream coat and leggings, bag thrown over her shoulder. She’s out of breath as if she rushed over, yet the pair of them don’t speak. They gaze at one another quietly. Hoseok grips the doorknob, eyes pinned on his wife as she looks back into his brown irises warmed by the dim light of the foyer. Their eyes are tender, expressions pained. “C-Can I come in?” she asks in an exhale. Hoseok nods fervently. As much as your parents would like to listen in to the conversation, they both give Hoseok and Irene a private moment. One you observe through the crack of your door. There’s an exchange of sighs and muffled apologies. And when your brother finally asks what she’s doing here, Irene responds in a beat. “I still love you.” “W-What? But just a few hours ago...you….you said….we were done. This is so sudden.” “I know.” With her downcast head, tears trickle down her cheeks. “I know that. But I regretted it the second you were gone, Hoseok. I’m sorry. I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everythin—” Hoseok pulls her in close, cradling her face against his shoulder as he embraces her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I love you too.” The corner of your mouth tugs and you look away when they kiss. They’re surmounting the bittersweet moment together, leaving behind the point where they were so close to abandoning their relationship. Your parents emerge with you lingering behind and you’re relieved as they are. “I’m sorry.” Irene dips her head. Your father glances at your mother and then smiles. “Don’t worry about it, dear. Couples fight all the time. It’s only natural when you’re living together.” “Does this mean you’re not staying over?” You intrude, quirking your head at your brother who smirks. “I thought we were gonna have a massive sleepover.” Your mom nudges you. “Let him leave with Irene. They should spend time together.” Hoseok laughs. “Maybe next time, squirt. I’ll make sure to come home next week and visit. This time, properly.” He gazes at his wife who nods. The two of them leave hand in hand, closer than they were before. It's the perfect outcome. All you could have hoped for. What you know is meant to be. But it isn’t a mere coincidence that Irene came here, that they made up with one another. You know it in your bones — the Love Pages works and it’s your saviour.

“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Jihyo notes with a brow raised and you snap back to attention, realizing that you’ve been humming and smiling to yourself. “I guess I just have a lot to be happy about,” you sing-song and your best friend scoffs lighty with a tiny smile of her own. “Yeah, cause you’re dating Park Jimin and even wearing his sweater. Life’s good, isn’t it?” You look down to the navy material that’s soft to the touch, sleeves draped past your fingers. He gave it to you after noticing that you were cold one evening and said you could keep it. You’re happy to wear it too since it carries his comforting scent and makes it clear what your relationship with him is. You smile, unable to retort Jihyo’s snarky yet playful tone. And she notices your love-struck state, rolling her eyes before she’s interrupted by a gawky brunette whose height towers over her sitting form. “Jihyo, you said you had the homework answers?” She looks up and deadpans, “I never said I would give them to you, Namjoon.” You’re stunned at how your best friend can be so cold to her crush, but you know it’s just a front to keep herself from being flustered and out of control. Namjoon seems to know as well since he grins. “I thought we could compare.” “Fine.” She exhales, acting like it’s all a chore when you’re certain she’s ecstatic. Jihyo brushes a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and smooths out her skirt as she stands. “Let’s see what you have, Joon.” You watch them stride across the classroom to his desk, eyes tracing their backsides. And then you’re reaching down to your backpack for the pastel pink notebook. You’re not sure when you started bringing it around with you, but the Love Pages have become your good luck charm. You feel naked without it in your possession. No one notices when you push aside your biology textbook. When you flip it open. When you take your pencil and begin scribbling names inside. Kim Namjoon Park Jihyo There’s a reason this notebook fell into your lap and you’re not going to let it go to waste. Out of everyone you know, Jihyo deserves her feelings to be reciprocated. And you’ll play cupid if that’s what it takes. Swiftly, the notebook is closed and you slide it back into your backpack. A beat later, your best friend is returning and colour is drained from her face. She plops down in her desk chair, the seat in front of yours. “Jihyo?” She looks like she’s seen a ghost and you’re alarmed, wondering if something went wrong. “What happened?” “Namjoon...he….he….” She blinks hard. “He just asked me out…?” “What?” Your head whips across the classroom where said boy is smiling at your friend. You didn’t know the effects of the Pages are so instantaneous. “When? Right now?” She nods after a delayed second and a smile spreads into your face. You try to keep your squeals down before it collects the attention of the rest of the class. “Oh my god, Jihyo! I’m so happy for you!” Her brows furrow. “I don’t get it….it came out of nowhere….” “Does it matter?” You grab your best friend’s hands. “You’re going on a date with Kim Namjoon!” “I am. I...am!” Your best friend finally looks you in the eye, giddy at the idea. “I need to go shopping!” // “—and then she came back and told me that he asked her out!” You’re smiling from ear to ear, twirling around to face Jimin as he watches you with a smile. You don’t think it’s possible that you could be any happier than this. Not only do you have Jimin by your side, but you’ve granted both your brother and your best friend their wishes. “They’re going to catch a movie this weekend, I think.” “You’re so excited,” he laughs. “Sounds like you’re the one going on the date.” “Jihyo’s liked Namjoon for so long. I’m just happy for her.” “You spend a lot of time with Jihyo, huh?” Jimin comments as you come to a stop at the light, waiting for the pedestrian signal to come on. “She’s my only friend,” you admit with a small smile, reminiscing over the years. Your steps sync with Jimin’s again. “My best friend. We’ve been through thick and thin.” “I’m jealous,” your boyfriend squeezes your hand, eyes glimmering. “I want you all to myself.” You lightly scoff at his flirtation and his smile only widens until you let go of your interlaced hands to open the mailbox in front of your house. But unfortunately, there’s nothing inside. No acceptance or even rejection letters from any colleges or universities like you were anticipating. There’re no bills or advertisement pamphlets either which probably means your dad’s home from work and beaten you to the punch. “Well, I’ll call you later then, Jimi—” “Can I come in?” he asks, eyes twinkling with hope. You’re taken aback and glance over your shoulder, not sure if introducing your boyfriend to your parents so soon is a good idea. While you know they try their hardest, your parents can be extremely overbearing. They tend to bombard anyone you talk to with a million questions, yet somehow, they’re still out of touch with your life. Your relationship with your parents isn’t spectacular to say the least. But when Jimin takes a step forward with confidence, you have a feeling that they’ll like him as much as you do. After all, who doesn’t like Jimin? And you’re not wrong. “Hello. Nice to meet you.” He dips his head in greeting, tone respectful as he stands in the foyer of your home. Your mom’s brows are raised to her hairline while your dad is seemingly sizing him up. “My name is Park Jimin. I’m Y/N’s classmate.” “Actually, he’s my boyfriend,” you clarify, deciding to be straightforward with it and your parents exchange expressions. But within minutes, you know they’ve fallen for him too. “Oh dear, you’re on the soccer team as well?” Jimin nods. “I’ve been playing since elementary, but I’m not that great at it.” “That’s a blatant lie,” you object while sticking your head from the kitchen into the living room where they’re seated. “Jimin’s the star of the soccer team.” “That’s very remarkable,” your father notes with stars practically in his eyes. You have to hold back laughter just watching them. “How do you manage to be so studious, keep up such great grades, maintain a social life and play sports at the same time?” “I’m not as impressive as it sounds,” Jimin laughs shyly, scratching the back of his neck. “I just do a little every day. I think having supportive parents help a lot and having Y/N around does too. She’s always supported me, even before we got together, so I owe her a lot.” Their smiles are bright, bodies relieved and you match Jimin’s soft smile. Any nervousness of having Jimin meet your family vanishes like it never even existed. And for a moment, you imprint the scene in front of you in the forefront of your brain. You wonder if your future will someday look like this — Jimin sitting across from your parents in your family home. “Would you like to stay for dinner, Jimin?” your mother asks and he enthusiastically nods. // Life is perfect. “You’ll come to my game, right?” “Of course, I will!” The days and weeks are flying by fast, and you’re getting closer and closer to graduation. It’s hectic but a busyness that isn’t tiring — not when you’re enjoying every moment of it. “And the winner of the final soccer match of this season goes to Daykey High!” Cheers erupt from the stands and as you shoot up with your own hollers, Jimin whips his body around after being dogpiled on by his teammates and grins. He races up the stands when he gets a chance, engulfs you in his embrace and gives you a sweaty kiss full of vigour that has you smiling. Months ago, you would’ve never known your last months of high school would be spent so perfectly. It feels like a dream come true, like your biggest desires have been granted. “Jimin!” “What?” “Are you going to come, dude? We’ve missed you at like five hangouts so far. C’mon, this one’s gonna be the last one, you have to come.” “Nah.” He grabs his duffle bag. “Sorry, guys. I'll probably have to back out of this one too. Can’t leave my girlfriend waiting.” “What’s going on, Chim?” The soccer captain steps forward with his brows furrowed. “This isn’t like you.” “What do you mean?” Jimin laughs. “Nothing’s going on.” Another snorts and slings an arm over his shoulder. “You got it bad for your girl, don’t you?” Jimin’s sheepish when he admits it. “She’s the only one for me.” Sometimes you’re frightened that you’ll wake up one morning and find that everything you’ve been living through was really just a dream. But time and time again, you open your eyes to see the pastel pink notebook on your desk. And it’s a reminder that it’s what brought you all this joy. The Love Pages made this possible. “H-Hey, Jimin.” Seulgi lingers outside the locker room, struggling to meet his eye as she teeters from side to side. “Congratulations on winning.” “Thanks! It was a tough game, but I’m glad we pulled through.” “Yeah...well..um…I—.” “I’ll see you around?” Jimin smiles and Seulgi nods after a delayed second. They exchange small smiles full of distant politeness, but as Jimin turns to catch up to you, his expression grows genuine. You hope this lasts forever. // “Hey, Jihyo….” “What.” “How are your eyes so beautiful?” Namjoon mutters and the girl busy with her paper turns her head to glare at him. The corner of his mouth curls and he hums, “I wonder how I’ll go on without you. I might miss you to death.” She scoffs, unwavered by the greasy lines. “Get your ass to class before you’re late.” Namjoon grins and as he gets up, grabbing his bag with him, he makes sure to plant a surprise kiss to the top of her head. The gawky boy laughs at his partner’s scandalized expression and takes his leave. In the meanwhile, the smile itching up your features finally reveals itself and you march across the library floor to plop down into the seat that Namjoon had occupied. “You two lovebirds really need a room.” Jihyo makes a noise of acknowledgment at the back of her throat. “How did the fourth date go?” “What? Oh yeah. It was fine.” Her response is short and you chalk it up to her merely concentrating on finishing her assignment, but after a minute, Jihyo lifts her chin and looks at you. “Hey, Y/N.” “What?” “Do you think Namjoon’s off somehow?” “What do you mean?” “I know him.” Jihyo pauses. “Namjoon would rather die than say something as cheesy as he just did.” You loll your head to one side and shrug. “I don’t know. Love changes people, Jihyo. You should stop overthinking it and just let yourself be loved.” She blinks and hums, returning back to her work. // The library is becoming quieter and quieter as summer arrives. Jihyo doesn’t blame everyone for preferring to spend their remaining days outside with their friends than hanging out in a place surrounded by bookshelves and studying for exams. But if anything, it makes her job easier. There are fewer books to shelve, fewer people to attend to and less to clean up. With only a student here or there, she’s able to savour the last shifts of library duty left. “Joon.” “Hmmm?” Not to mention, no one really bats a lash with her boyfriend hanging around beside her. Ever since they started dating officially, Namjoon’s been glued to her side. But Jihyo doesn’t mind. The company and conversations are welcome. Even the librarian finds him endearing. “When did you become interested in me?” Namjoon is seemingly perplexed by the question and their eyes meet as they stand between the thin aisle between two looming bookcases. “I don’t know. One moment, everything was fine and then the next, I started feeling this way.” Jihyo’s frowns. “Suddenly?” “It was a bit weird for me too, but then I realized I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It...hit me and it was intense, so I asked you out.” His smile softens, dimples creased into each side of his cheek. “Why?” Jihyo sighs and shakes her head. “No reason. It just seemed like you never liked me like that before or at least you never hinted at it.” “That’s true. I saw you as just a friend for the longest time.” Namjoon leans in, his smile sweet towards his girlfriend. “Is that such a bad thing?” Jihyo scoffs lightly but then shakes her head with a tiny smile. Maybe you’re right. Maybe she is overthinking it. “I just have to get used to it.” It’s that same afternoon that Jihyo walks home by herself — Namjoon busy with his other clubs and unable to accompany her. She doesn’t mind much, actually finding solace in her alone time. But Jihyo’s mind wanders and she realizes it’s been a long time since she’s hung out with you outside of class or library duty. Jimin’s monopolized you these days and as happy as she is to watch you giddy, she misses her best friend. 4:38 pm. Jihyo: wanna go out for ice cream or something 4:39 pm. Y/N: hell yeah!!! :D 4:39 pm. Y/N: omw home 4:39 pm. Y/N: wanna meet up there? Jihyo smiles to herself and turns down the familiar street to your house. The school’s boundary lines are narrow, so most of the students live in the same small neighbourhood. And considering that Jihyo’s been your friend since grade six, she’s no stranger to your house, the white mailbox, the gate, and the small yard that the pair of you used to play on. They’re all nostalgic memories to her. “About time!” she calls out when she sees you. You laugh, quickening your strides. “It only took me five minutes!” “On another date with Jimin?” Jihyo follows after you, through the door and up the stairs to your room. It’s quiet which only means your mom’s running errands and your dad’s not home from work yet. “We just went to a bookstore and grabbed food.” She laughs and drops her backpack by your bed. “Can you eat ice-cream then?” “Don’t you know there’s always room for dessert?” You grin while patting your stomach. “Speaking of which, I need to take a leak before we leave. Be right back.” She snorts and pulls out her phone to check her usual apps. But there’s nothing much to see aside from the string of heart emojis that Namjoon sends for no reason. She rolls her eyes, but smiles to herself. Namjoon’s an idiot. But he should be lucky he’s a cute one. Jihyo boredly wanders to your desk, eyes falling upon the shell pink container. She holds the candle up, glad that you actually liked the birthday present enough to burn half of it. Then she sets it down and picks up the lighter, rolling the wheel and observing the flame that sparks. She puts it down, looks over the polaroids you have strung on the wall, and then her eyes stray to a crime novel you have pushed on the side of your desk. Jihyo smiles to herself in amusement. She didn’t know you picked up reading recently. Curious, she flips it over to read the synopsis of the book, but then something underneath catches her eye. A baby pink notebook. The Love Pages. Her brows furrow and she discards the crime novel to the side in favour of the magnetizing pull coming from the notebook. She’s curious. Her intuition forces her to look. Jihyo turns the notebook over, and she becomes more and more bewildered as she reads the rules. As she reads the warning. Then, she flips it open. At the same time you return. “J-Jihyo?” You’re frozen at the door. “Y/N. What is this?” “Nothing.” You damn yourself for not putting the notebook in the drawer, for not bringing it with you like you so often do. You forgot about taking it with you this morning when you were in a rush to get ready and now you’re paying the price for your mistake. You take two wide strides across the floor to snatch— But Jihyo’s grip remains firm. She doesn’t let you rip the notebook from her hands. Her tight hold crinkles the corners of the pages. “Y/N.” Jihyo’s eyes meet yours. Cold. Firm. “What is this?” You release your sigh and your arm comes to your side. “Remember when we were cleaning out the storage room of the library two months ago? I found it there and it works. I know it’s hard to believe, but it works, Jihyo.” It takes a second for the words to sink in. But then it hits Jihyo like a freight train, slamming into her form, smashing into her brain. She doesn’t want to believe it — not when it’s so outrageous and outlandish — but it all clicks. Everything finally makes sense. “Is this….how you got Namjoon to go out with me?” Her pupils trace his name on the lined paper and then the straight lines of her own name. Jihyo looks up at you, colour drained from her face. She whispers as if someone could overhear, “Is this how you got Jimin to go out with you?” “I wrote it as a joke first.” Your voice is pitched as you frantically explain, “but then Jimin started to pay attention to me and the next day, he even asked me out! I...I didn’t think it worked but then Hoseok came home and he was about to get divorced, Jihyo. It was really bad. But I wrote their names in and they’re fine now. See? It works and it’s a good thing!” She shakes her head slowly, connecting the dots. “You wrote my name in it...and you didn’t even ask me.” “I know and I’m sorry.” Your palms are clammy. You’re not sure why she’s so upset with you, why she’s giving you such a horrified look as if you did something so wrong. “But I didn’t know if you would believe me and since it worked, I thought...why not.” “Why not?! You didn’t ask for my consent! I didn’t want this! I can’t believe you did this, Y/N!” “What do you mean you didn’t want this?” It’s your turn to be upset — if anything, you did Jihyo a favour. You were looking out for her as her friend. “You liked Namjoon for the longest time! I did this for you!” “This isn’t what I wanted!” Jihyo’s voice is shrill and you flinch. “This is so wrong, Y/N. This is so fucked.” “How? We got what we wanted, didn’t we?!” “But have you ever thought about the other side?! Have you ever thought about them?” she asks, coming face to face with you. “You’ve made everything artificial! Why would you go against their will and control them like this?” “It’s not against their will!” “It is!” Jihyo screams, voice straining in her throat. “Namjoon only saw me as a friend and nothing more, and Jimin didn’t even know you!” Her words reverberate in your ears. Jimin didn’t even know you. Your fist curls as you tremble. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as tears threaten at your lash line. You can’t believe she just said that, that she can be so ungrateful. She doesn’t get it. And you thought out of anyone, Jihyo would be the one who would understand you most. “How do you get rid of it?” she demands, thrusting the notebook to your face. “How?!” “You….have to erase the names.” “Then fucking do it!” “Fine! Move!” You push her aside and press the book to your desk, grabbing the pencil that nearly rolls off. You take the eraser end and rub her name and Namjoon’s from the paper. Fine. If she wants you to erase it, you’ll erase it. But you know she’ll come running back to you to write it in again. You scrub the names hard enough that the shiny surface of the paper dulls. Hard enough that the pink eraser bits fill the page. That your hand physically hurts. You show her when you’re done. “There. Happy?” “Erase Jimin’s name.” “What?” By sheer instincts, you pull back and press the notebook to you. “No.” “Y/N. This is crazy. This is so wrong. You’re violating your morals for—” “I have no morals,” you cut her off. She can yell at you, shame you, make you erase what you did for her. But you draw the line here. “Don’t you realize, Jihyo? You said it yourself. Jimin never looked twice at me. And I know he would’ve never asked me out. He would’ve never gone on that date, he would’ve never made me his girlfriend. He would’ve never told me he loves me.” “Y/N—” “I’ve never been loved or looked at like this before.” You swallow hard, eyes stinging, the lump in your throat makes it hard to talk. Most of all, your heart aches. “For the first time in my life, I’ve actually had someone like me back. For the first time in my life, I’ve had someone love me like that. Without this notebook, it would’ve been impossible.” “But you can’t force him—” “I’m not forcing him to do anything!” Blood curdles at the back of your throat. You wish someone else was in the house, then they could rush upstairs and take Jihyo away from you. Away from threatening your happiness. “That’s not how the Love Pages works!” She steps forward, arm extending. “Then if that’s true, erase his name.” You flinch away from her. “I will never erase Jimin’s name!” “Y/N!” — “Leave me alone!” You try to push past her, but Jihyo grabs the notebook. Your attempt to rip it from her grip and shove her away is ultimately futile. Jihyo’s grabbed hold of the edge and she’s not letting go. In your desperation, you catch a fistful of her hair and she stomps on your foot, shouting ‘bitch!’ at you. You cry aloud, wonder why it’s so hard for you to be happy. You love him. Your hands are slipping, but you untangle your fingers from Jihyo’s head and manage to seize the cover with your right hand. The notebook flips open, papers dangling downwards between your struggle. Jihyo screams for you to let go, that this is crazy, but you ignore her. She knows nothing. You love Jimin. And all you want is for him to love you back. The pair of you yank back and forth. When it looks like you’re about to win, Jihyo snags a page near the back. And it rips as you snatch it towards you. The paper tears. You both stumble to the ground from the force of your grasps. Your own hand slams into your mouth, bruising your lip. Jihyo across from you has her hair in a disarray and you’re horrified to find her holding her eye. She cusses again, tone venomous. The notebook falls beside you, the empty white page fluttering in between. It’s silent as you two hyperventilate. Then Jihyo stands. She brushes past you, roughly grabbing her bag. “Suit yourself. But don’t get me involved anymore. I want no part of this.” The girl stomps out and you don’t look behind you. You don’t race after her, tell her to wait, explain that there’s a misunderstanding. Because there isn’t. You already said your piece. You allow the slamming of the front door to echo. But you do get up to watch her from the window. She acts like this is your fault, that you did something so horrible to her when what you did for her was a miracle. She’s the ungrateful bitch. Self-righteous in the dumbest ways. And you hope she never comes back. // Even when your anger has subsided, you know there are certain things that can’t be forgiven. Jihyo ignores you when you glance in her direction, when you move past her, when you stand in front of her. At school and lunch, she hangs out with the other girls, never once sparing you a look or the friendly smile she gives to her new friends. And it’s a change that others notice. “Is everything okay?” your classmate asks curiously. “Did you and Jihyo have a fight or something?” Your bruised lip and the skin around her eye blossomed blue speaks for itself. “Something like that.” You muster a smile. “But I’m fine.” “Oh. Well, make up soon then.” But you highly doubt that’ll happen. If she wants to be a bitch, then you can be one too. You can ignore her. You can pretend she doesn’t exist….. But unlike Jihyo, it’s always been harder for you to be cold. Not when you’ve spent so many years and made countless memories together. So you’re unable to resist when Namjoon comes by during the last shift of your library duty — one that you know she’s arranged to be absent at. “Do you know where she is?” Yet, the tall brunette merely shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t. Jihyo...actually broke up with me yesterday, so….yeah….” “Oh. I’m...I’m sorry to hear that, Namjoon.” He smiles. “It’s okay. It was pretty mutual.” You watch him leave, not batting a single lash, without a single trace of heartbreak on his features and then you divert your vision. You know things will never be the same for them again. Jihyo and Namjoon might never become as friendly as they were prior to their relationship. But you also know she’s wrong. You never forced Jimin to do anything. You didn’t force him to have feelings for you. That’s not how the Love Pages works— “BOO!” A hand comes down on your shoulder and a scream tears out of your throat as you spin around. You nearly fall on the ground from startlement, but Jimin latches onto your wrist, stabilizing you. “Y-You almost scared me to death!” “Sorry, sorry.” Your boyfriend laughs. “I didn’t know you would be so scared.” “Don’t do that again,” you scold, heart rate steadying. “How long were you even following me for?” “Not that long. You seemed a bit off. I had to make sure you got home safe and didn’t talk to anyone else.” Jimin syncs his steps into yours, familiar with the route you take home after accompanying you so many times. But as silence simmers between the pair of you, he takes notice. Jimin slips his hand into yours, slowing down. “Y/N. What’s wrong?” You shake your head, words caught in your throat. You don’t know what to say, where to start, what you can tell him. How he’d even react. And it’s all too overwhelming for you to bear. Against your will, you burst into tears. The tsunami of emotions — anger, sorrow, regret — they clog your chest and shed in the form of teardrops. It hangs on your lashes, drips down your cheeks, clouds your vision. And the only comfort you receive is when Jimin reaches out, guiding your head to his shoulder. “J-Jihyo….she….she hates me…” You hang onto him, tight fists clutching onto Jimin’s jacket. You were scared — scared when your only friend turned their back against you and found others to replace you so quickly, frightened when you realized just how isolated you are, petrified when you had a taste of what it’s like to walk the halls alone, to eat alone, to sit alone. To be alone. To be abandoned. If Jimin leaves too, you’ll truly have no one. “It’s okay,” he hums, locking you in a secure embrace. “You don’t need anyone but me.” Jimin consoles you without needing to be asked. He soothes you and says the things you’ve yearned to hear since yesterday. You return his hug, quieting your sobs and strengthening your resolve. You can’t give him up. // You’re not sure why it took you so long to realize what is and isn’t important. In a blink of an eye, the entire world seems to have shifted. The things — people — you treasured can so easily throw you away and all this time, you didn’t know. You’ve been played. Time wasted. “Y/N, are you home?” your mom calls from the kitchen as the front door shuts and she stumbles out with a frown. “You’re later than usual today. Were you with someone? Jihyo?” “I was with Jimin,” you sigh, kicking off your shoes. “Where did you go?” “Nowhere. We just talked.” “About what?” “Nothing! God, can you stop asking me questions?!” You stomp up the stairs. Your mother exhales in frustration and calls after you, “Well get yourself looking nice! Your brother and Irene are coming over for dinner tonight! Are you listening to me?! Don’t ignore me, Y/N!” But you do ignore her as you zip to your room and shut the door. Finally, you’re able to get a moment of peace and quiet, and once it settles, you take two large strides across your room. You swiftly slip the Love Pages out of your backpack and into the bottom drawer of your desk. Without blinking, you grab the half-burnt pink candle and dump it into the bin. I can’t believe you did this, Y/N! Your bottom lip trembles but your determination hardens as you begin tearing off the strung polaroids on your wall. You’re suffocated just looking at them. Bitch! Your sixteenth birthday spent with Jihyo — sleepovers in seventh grade — summers spent at summer camp. You rip the photographs all off and they follow the candle in the trash. Suit yourself. But don’t get me involved anymore. I want no part of this. An unpleasant feeling sits at the pit of your stomach and you flop down onto your bed. You shut your eyes before being plagued by the moment she turns her back, how she passes by the hall, giggling with other classmates. They’re moments played over and over until you feel nauseous. “It’s fine,” you mutter to yourself and repeat, “It’s fine.” You’re graduating soon. You can finally get away from here. You can move far away, to a university out of the city. You open your eyes to stare at the ceiling, tears stinging. And you inhale a staggering breath. Soon. You can go with Jimin and the two of you can vanish together. You’ll never have to think about your lost best friend or what you did. You can leave the Love Pages behind.

It’s a permanent turning point. Your friendship with Jihyo never mends or is even a topic of conversation. Sometimes, you can feel her looking at you from the corner of her eye as if she’s judging you for the secret she knows. One she’s aware no one would believe her for, but that you both know what you did. You don’t speak to each other, merely passing by in the same spaces and no one asks. After all, friends drift apart all the time. Everyone merely finds a new normal and so do you. Jimin becomes your new best friend. Sometimes, you eat lunch with his friends. Sometimes, it’s solely with him. The two of you continue going on dates and when you’re not, it’s conversations through text or shy talks on the phone. And sometimes— “C’mon, no one’s home.” “Yeah, but what if your mom returns and finds me in her son’s bedroom? That would be a bad look.” He laughs. “I promise she won’t. And even if she did, she’d still love you.” “I don’t know about that, Jimin.” “I’ll still love you and that’s what’s important, right?” Jimin pulls you into his cozy house and before you know it, your back is pressed against his soft sheets as he hovers over you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. No teasing words are spoken when the boy leans down to capture his lips with yours. It’s an eager kiss where you’re able to relish in the softness and the warmth of Jimin’s skin. Your arms automatically loop around his torso and you feel his smile against you. Jimin steals all the breath from your lungs and you’re left gasping as his mouth trails from your jaw to your neck. “J-Jimin,” you pant his name with swollen lips, leaning into his touch. “I missed you.” “What’d yo..u mean? I saw you today.” “Seeing isn't enough.” His mouth sucks into the juncture of your neck, marking it red to his liking and knowing it’ll bloom blue. Jimin lifts himself and smiles tenderly. “Tell me you’re mine, Y/N.” His gaze is soft, full of affection and endearment, and it swells your heart. “I’m yours.” “That’s right. You’re mine,” he whispers and kisses you again. He fiddles with the hem of your plush sweater and not long after, he’s tugging your camisole down. Sometimes you stay in Jimin’s bed, limbs tangled with one another’s. Other times, he’s busy with soccer practice and you come home by yourself— “Huh, did someone….move my cardigan?” You frown, wondering why it’s draped over the back of your chair and not the bed. Maybe your mom was trying to clean up for you again. “Hello?” you call, poking your head out your door. There isn’t an answer. You scoff to yourself, wondering what you were expecting. Anyway, life for the most part is normal again. With Jimin by your side, he’s become a pillar of your strength and a reason for your resiliency. He is the many of your firsts. And he makes you look forward to even better days. “Hey. Jimin?” “Hmm?” The pair of you are laying in his small bed and you shift your head to find him gazing at you with tender eyes and a softened smile. It tickles your own lips and you stare at him — his brown kaleidoscopic irises, his dark strands of hair nearly pricking into them. It’s quiet in his house with his parents gone and the fuzzy afternoon sunlight casting through the window makes you sleepy. If you don’t blink, you can spot the specs of dust floating in the air. “What are you thinking about?” “Nothing much.” Your voice is a murmur and you inhale gently, senses filled with Jimin’s comforting scent. “Do you think...you would’ve loved me before this school year?” “Of course, I would.” Jimin smiles as if you’re silly. “We’re meant to be.” He twines his hand with yours, fingers interlaced, and your sleepy smile stretches into cheeks. But Jihyo’s cursed you. She’s done the worst possible thing. She’s planted a seed in your mind. A seed of doubt. And it’s sprouted, taken root, embedded and coiled deep enough that you can’t tug it out. Even beautiful moments like these, you’re plagued by her words. You can't help wondering if this is really Jimin or the Love Pages’ doing. It’s chilly one night as you’re walking by yourself, going home from the convenient store down several blocks. The street lights are bright, illuminating both your figure and casting your shadow on the brick. But then you halt. Feet against the asphalt. Turning around. You swear, you felt eyes— Ring. Your phone rings suddenly and you jolt in startlement. You fumble before pulling it out and pressing it to your ear. “Hello?” You continue walking, except this time, your steps quicken. “Jimin?” “What’re you doing?” “Nothing,” you exhale, feeling comforted with him on the other line. “I’m so happy to hear your voice.” He laughs boyishly and you smile to yourself, practically able to hear his grin. Jimin sighs quietly, “Why does that make me feel happy?” “Did you finish running errands with your dad? Where are you?” “I’m always with you,” he quips playfully and you roll your eyes. It’s a joke, but as you peek over your shoulder, unsettlement sticks in your stomach. It feels like you’re always being watched. // “Jimin.” You stare up at the popcorn ceiling of his room, eyes running over the pointed ridges and dips, and drawing constellations from your imagination. “Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?” He turns his head, having been folding his laundry on the floor. “What do you mean?” “The other night, I was grabbing something for my dad at the convenient store and while I was walking home, it felt like….someone was watching me.” “Was there?” he asks. “I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone.” “Maybe you’re just being paranoid,” Jimin comforts with a small smile and finishes folding his last shirt. He comes up on the bed and you make room for him to lay next to you. “Or maybe it’s your guardian angel protecting you.” You scoff. “What guardian angel?” “Me,” he giggles softly and reads your expression. “Would that be so bad?” Your brows furrow and you go silent. Blood drains from your face and confusion makes your head dizzy. It’s outrageous to ask, but you do so— “Were you the one following me, Jimin?” He hums, “Maybe.” Instantly, you push your boyfriend’s hand away that was playing with your hair and you sit up. “I’m being serious.” Jimin follows after you, getting up. “I don’t get why you’re so upset.” “It’s weird! You’re stalking me!” “I’m protecting you,” he corrects and his voice softens. “I’m doing this for your own good, Y/N. I see people on the news getting kidnapped all the time. I just…I don’t want you to be taken away or put in danger. I don’t think I could live with myself if you got hurt and I wasn’t around to help.” You press your palms against your forehead, not knowing where to even begin. After a beat, your voice croaks, “How long have you been doing this for?” Jimin shrugs. “A while.” His intentions might come from a good place, but it makes you nauseous to think about how Jimin’s been following you. How he’s been tracing your steps, watching you from behind. And you didn’t even know. You don’t want to ask what else he’s done. “I’m not going to get hurt, Jimin. You don’t need to follow me like that.” “But you don’t know when something might happen. No one knows. I just want to be there for you.” Your thoughts are in a disarray, not sure how you should even reason with him. Shouldn’t it be common sense? At your ongoing silence, Jimin reaches out to hug you. But you stand, slipping away from his arms. “I think I need to go home.” “Wait. Y/N.” Jimin’s agile and swift, capturing your wrist in his hand before you’ve grabbed your bag. He stops you in your tracks. “Don’t be mad. I’m sorry!” “I just need a moment by myself, okay?” You try to shake him off. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Please. Don’t leave me,” his voice drops into a trembling whisper and your head whips around. Your eyes meet his, teary and shaking. Jimin suddenly gets onto his knees, cradling your hand in both of his hands and pressing it to his nose as if he’s praying. He begs, “Don’t leave me.” But his affectionate behaviour only serves to freak you out more. It’s more than bizarre and you quickly tear your hand back, pulling it to your chest and out of his grip. “You’re not being yourself, Jimin.” You grab your bag, turning around and making it to the door— “I love you!” he declares loudly, startling you. His sheer desperation radiates waves and you turn around with wide eyes. Jimin looks like he’s in the midst of a break down. “You’re mine! Is it so wrong to look after you like this? I did it because I love you. I love you, Y/N.” You clutch your bag against your body and divert your vision away from the boy. “Then...promise me you won’t do that again,” you murmur after a handful of uncomfortable seconds have passed, “I’m safe and fine. Secretly following me is excessive and it makes me…..uncomfortable.” Jimin begrudgingly nods. You slowly close the distance and hug him, allowing him to sniffle into your shoulder. He’s fine with letting you leave after the pair of you have made up. Yet, when you arrive home the next day, you swear you feel eyes on your backside. It’s easy to pretend nothing’s wrong when you haven’t noticed before. But once you lock the front door and make it to your room, you nimbly peek out the window. You catch Jimin standing across the street, expressionless. // The situation isn’t mentioned again in fear of another dramatic confrontation, but it dwells. A disturbing discomfort weighs on your shoulders and every sweet call of your name on his lips is startling. You’re not sure why you’re like this, how you can go back to how it used to be, when a mere glance from Jimin had your heart soaring and the butterflies in your tummy tickling. It feels like the rose filter of your eyes have rubbed off. And that you’ve found out the world is darker than the pink shades you previously saw it as. You leave the bathroom, hands still a bit damp in spite of drying them— And you flinch when you see dark strands, brown irises and rounded cheeks standing in the hallway, leaning against the lockers. Jimin smiles. “You’re about to have lunch, right?” You nod. “I was thinking we could eat together today.” “With your friends?” “No. Just us.” As the two of you walk, Jimin slings an arm around your shoulders. It feels heavy instead of warm and comforting. It’s quiet too, until he breaks it. “Have you been avoiding me, Y/N?” You shake your head. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to be distant.” He lovingly presses his head to yours, nuzzling into your hair. “That’s not what a good girlfriend does.” You swallow hard. The food ends up tasting like nothing. This isn’t right. This isn’t the boy next door you fell in love with years ago. Obsessive, controlling, a crazed look in his eye, desperate enough to beg on his knees — this isn’t Jimin. And you know the cause. You know why and how this happened. But you can’t bear to acknowledge the truth. Even when you’ve been plunged so deep, you still want to savour this a little longer. This impossibility. This dream that you’ve been granted. Tears fill your eyes and you gaze at him. Your boyfriend notices your softened expression that searches his face and he smiles, lifting his hand to pat your head. He prepares to walk off to class, but you take the leap while diverting your eyes. “Jimin. A-After graduation…...we need to talk.” His hand comes to curl around your wrist, firm enough that you can’t escape from. His voice drops an octave. “Are you breaking up with me?” You shake your head. “I’m going to tell you the truth.” Jimin’s brows furrow hard and he leans in close. “What’s the truth?” “I’ll tell you afterwards. Just wait a little longer,” you plead, “be patient with me. Please. I love you.” He stares and then nods. Jimin embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to console the turmoil bubbling underneath your skin. No one’s around to witness the intimate moment, so you allow yourself to savour it. “I love you too. I won’t ever let you go.” You nod against him. And you really hope what he says is true. You hope he loves you for you and not because it’s the effect of the Love Pages. // “I’m home!” you call out and shut the door. But instead of hearing your dad’s greeting or your mother’s nagging, there’s a smooth timbre coming from the living room that’s all too familiar. It raises the goosebumps around your arms and you stalk the noise, feet sliding against the floor. “—thinking of maybe renting an apartment—” “Jimin?” You stop in your tracks, bewildered at the sight of him sitting on the couch with your parents across from him, mugs and half-empty glasses of water on the coffee table in between. “W-What are you doing here?” “Oh, sit down! Jimin’s just discussing your plans with us,” your mom says with an endeared smile. “I didn’t know the two of you had so many arrangements for after you graduate, Y/N!” “You should’ve kept us in the loop,” your dad states with a satisfied smile. You swallow hard, approaching on weak knees and collapsing beside your boyfriend. “I’m going to the same university as you are,” Jimin informs with a proud smile, hands knitted together and posture straight. He’s the picture perfect son-in-law, an image crafted to perfection. “What? I mean….h-how do you even know what school I’m going to?” “I saw the acceptance letter, silly.” Jimin smiles. “I can’t believe you hid it from me.” “It was supposed to be a surprise!” you lie frantically, in a rush and spilling out the sentence before your brain can catch up. And once it does, you add in a laugh and quirk your head to the side. “I was waiting for you to get your round of acceptance letters.” Jimin believes you and apologizes for ruining the surprise to which you brush off and tell him it’s okay, that it isn’t a big deal. The crisis is averted until he presents another idea— “We should probably move in together. I’ll have to move out anyway and you will too.” Your mouth opens but your mother exclaims, “That’s a great idea! Jimin’s a good boy who will protect you, Y/N. It’ll make me feel a lot better about you moving so far away.” Jimin smiles. He stays for dinner and your mom fusses about to make sure his stomach is stuffed with her home cooking while your dad reminisces and tells old stories. But you don’t hear anything or taste the food you’ve grown sick of. It’s bland and white noise buzzes against your eardrums— “Y/N.” Jimin slips a hand on top of yours and you flinch before catching yourself. “Y/N. What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” You realize your parents have left the table. “I’m fine.” But you fail to notice how Jimin stops smiling when you turn away. // The long awaited day arrives on a brisk morning. You’ve imagined it countless times before — when your head was laid on your desk, when your face was buried in your textbook, when your hand hurt from gripping your pencil. Graduation is the liberation day, another step to moving forward. After years of schooling, it marks another end and another beginning. You always envisioned getting ready with Jihyo, looking at Jimin from faraway, being swept by the crowds and walking away without too many regrets. In many ways, your fantasy is better and worse in reality. It’s worse in the ways that Jihyo doesn’t look at you. When you call her name, catch up to her, she doesn’t so much as acknowledge who you are. She doesn’t even say her last goodbyes. She doesn’t promise to keep in touch. It’s uncomfortable, for you and those around who witness. Your parents aren’t one of them, but they bombard you with questions when you tell them not to call out to her. Questions you beg them not to ask. Jihyo doesn’t even give you the chance to admit your mistakes. So you let her be. You’re not sure what you expected when she’s the master of holding grudges. All you know is that until the end, you did your part on trying to make amends. The rest is on her. You hope she doesn’t regret it. Nevertheless, there are silver linings. Instead of having to peek at Jimin through the masses, of having him accidentally in the background of pictures, he’s by your side. Your crush is yours to call, yours to hold. But a weight still dwells on the back of your mind. As time passes, you know it’s getting worse and worse. He’s becoming less like Jimin and more like a person you no longer recognize. He’s grown distant with his friends as he solely focuses on you — calling you, texting you, asking where you are, telling you how excited he is to move in with you and how you’ll finally be together. And the more Jimin surrounds himself with you, the more sure you become. You have to erase his name from the Love Pages. Even if you don’t want to. There are consequences of the Pages. You’ve stared at the papers, the names, the rules enough to know. The more naturally compatible a couple is, the more effective the Love Pages will be. The less compatible a couple is, the more undesired consequences will arise. And this is a consequence. If Jimin’s worsening obsession is because of the Love Pages, then you need to stop it. You have to vanquish your doubts about him being with you before this future together begins. You want him to love you for you. “Y/N! What are you doing standing there? Move in!” Hoseok is holding his phone to his face, camera open and ready to capture a picture of you and Jimin together. Irene stands beside him with an enormous grin, temporarily holding the bouquet of flowers they gifted to you. In the meanwhile, your parents and Jimin’s are chatting away. “Okay! Perfect! Ready? One, two three!” Your smile is stiff. No matter how hard you try to maintain it, it twitches and never reaches your eyes. When it’s done, Jimin holds your hand and pulls you to his family. Jimin’s dad is friendly and open while his mom is more soft-spoken, but her features are reminiscent of Jimin's. You’re moved when she gives you a bouquet of peonies on top of the flowers Hoseok and Irene, saying how she just bought some from the stand. “Congratulations, sweetheart.” “Thank you.” Jimin playfully pouts. “You didn’t get me any?” His mom lightly scoffs and bats at him. “You don’t even like flowers.” “I swear Y/N’s gonna be drowning in them by the end of this,” he sighs and everyone laughs. Jimin seems so normal on the surface — no one knows what you do. // Your heart is thumping against your rib cage hard enough to bruise. It’s violent in your ear drums and you could clap to the rhythm of your pulse if you chose. But unfortunately, it isn’t from excitement. Not the feeling of rushing down a roller coaster or falling infatuated within seconds. It’s different from the flutter of a first love or the anxiousness of a class presentation. It’s dread. Hope. Remorse. The day has come — time is up. You’ve finally managed to pull Jimin aside in the chaos of graduation celebrations, alone in the house with your parents over at your brother’s. There’s no room for disturbances, for interruptions, no way you can back down from the promise you made. The two of you enter your room and you inhale a deep breath as you turn to face him. Jimin’s brows are furrowed and he searches your expression. “What is it? What have you been wanting to tell me? You know I don’t like it when you keep secrets from me.” Wordlessly, you stride to your desk, pull the bottom drawer and reach below the file folders. Jimin is solemn as he watches you and you pull out what started this all— A pastel pink notebook and in small text at the front, simple words read ‘Love Pages’. You brace yourself, grip tight enough to crinkle the cover. But then you hand it to Jimin. He deserves to see it for himself. Jimin takes it, curious and confused. “What is this?” “You have a right to know what I did, Jimin,” you murmur quietly as he studies the notebook, flips it over, reads the rules, the warning. “I found this notebook by accident and I know I’m going to sound crazy, but it works. Whoever’s name that’s written in it will fall in love with the second written name. And….I-...I wrote your name back in February.” Jimin’s frown deepens. He flips open the pages. You’re too ashamed to look at him. Your downcast head avoids his glance. “I’m sorry,” you snivel and repeat, “I’m sorry.” You’re not sure how many times will be enough — you don’t think it’ll ever be enough. “I….I’m the one who made you this way, Jimin. I liked you and I thought this was a joke and that it would be harmless, so I wrote your name in it and it ended up working...and I was so happy for the longest time,” your voice breaks and you realize your cheeks are wet. “But this isn’t you.” He’s gone completely silent and you swallow hard, the need to explain compulsive. “The way you’re acting, the person you are when you’re with me, it’s—...it’s a consequence of the Love Pages because we’re not compatible.” You’re sobbing and your heart aches as the words choke out of your closing throat. “And I tried to force something that isn’t compatible. So I’m so...so sorry. I made you lose yourself. I...I shouldn’t have ever done this. So I’m going to erase your name. I’m going to undo all of this, I promise.” Jimin stares at you, lips in a straight line, eyes dimmed. “I know you wouldn’t lie to me, Y/N,” he starts and you muster the courage to look at him, “If what you say is true and if this notebook made me love you, then it’s the greatest thing to ever exist.” “What?” “I got the chance to love you, to be with you when I otherwise wouldn’t have, Y/N.” Jimin’s eyes catch the evening sun through the window and his irises glimmer as the corner of his mouth quirks into a smile. “Why would I want to erase my name?” You shake your head. “This isn’t right, Jimin.” You’re not sure how he drew this conclusion on his own and you quickly approach, but then Jimin holds the notebook up. He extends his arm high above his head and out of your reach. “Jimin,” you beg him, “snap out of it.” “I love you, Y/N. Do you not love me?” You try to reach up, get closer to the pink notebook held mockingly above you. But Jimin swiftly dodges your attempt and rounds towards the desk. “I love you, Jimin. Trust me. I really do love you. But it shouldn’t have been this way. I shouldn’t have made our relationship artificial.” “But I love you, Y/N,” he argues, becoming angry. “That’s not artificial!” “If you love me then p-prove it. Let me erase the names!” You lurch forward, fingertips finally gripping onto the edges, but victory is short an inch. Jimin grabs it hard enough to wrinkle the entire book and all its pages. He screams, “No! I won’t let you erase it! I love you and I won’t risk falling out of love with you!” “Stop this, Jimin, please, I’m begging you, let go,” you desperately spew through gritted teeth and it’s all too familiar— Pushing one another, trying to rip it from his grip, grabbing hold of edges, not letting go. You’ve once stood in the same spot, having the same fight with Jihyo. And it’s an irony that makes your mouth bitter. She was right — and you wonder if she would laugh if she knew. But the difference between then and now is that winning twice is harder than once. Jimin’s backed up against your desk, nearly falling on it but his right hand comes to cushion himself. Though as it does, he feels the objects on your desk. In desperation, he grabs whatever he can to succeed, to perhaps distract you with. And he finds the lighter. It takes one second. One for Jimin’s strength to easily overpower yours. For him to yank it hard. For the smooth, pink cover and its white pages filled with endless names to slip from your fingertips. For Jimin to scrape his thumb across the wheel of the lighter. And for you to hear the flickering flare, the rasping sparks, the quiet hum of the orange flame igniting. Jimin brings the fire to the notebook. He burns it, sealing the Love Pages together. “No!” Your last attempt to grab it is futile. You’re left to drop to your knees. The blood-curdling shriek in your ears is unrecognizable until you realize it's yours. Your pupils reflect the tangerine hue of the fire, the ash of the pages curling together, the soft pink that turns to black cinders fluttering down like Spring cherry blossoms in front of you. Jimin’s smile is sweet. “The only way to remove my name is to erase it, right? Look, Y/N. This way, we can always be together.” A tear drips from your lash down your cheeks. Your mouth opens but the sob doesn’t come from your throat already sore from yelling, screaming, apologizing. Instead, you cry like a marble statue shocked in time. Jimin drops the burning corner of the Love Pages and the last of the binding melts into your carpet. He lowers himself and wipes away the tears on your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “You made me better,” he coos, “the Love pages made me better.” Jimin sighs and caresses your head gently. “If this is what the issue was then I’m actually relieved. I thought you were going to try to break up with me. This obstacle means nothing to me, Y/N. It means nothing to us.” He laughs and quickly reassures, “Soon enough, we’ll move away. No one will be able to find us. We can finally get away from….this. All these distractions. I can finally have you all for myself.” He embraces you, arms wrapped around your body, propping his chin on top of your shoulder and breathing in the scent of your hair. It’s suffocating. Your eyes dim. Jimin’s trapped you. He’s caught you in his web.

You think about running. Even when he follows you half across the country under the guise of continuing education, you think about running in the middle of the night while he’s asleep. You fantasize about slowly slinking the arm slung around your body off, moving his dead weight from you, or moving during the day when he’s forced to be away. Before it’s too late. Before it worsens. You can still escape. But somehow, Jimin always knows where you are. He texts at night when you’re gone for too long. He calls when you’re at the grocery store to buy certain things he forgot. And you know for a fact, he would track you down and look for you until his last breath if you tried to flee. But your hesitance is not only because of him. It’s your fault too. A part of you always stops, with one foot out the door of the apartment and your bag slung over your shoulder in the middle of the night. You’re unable to abandon the faded image of the boy you used to long for. Unable to stop the guilt from overwhelming you that you began this. That you’re the one who reduced him to this crazed state from your own selfishness. And the only way to undo what’s happened to him is gone. For just a moment, you wanted to be loved. But what was an innocent wish morphed into a sin you blinded yourself too. All those months ago, had you done nothing, had you sat still, it would’ve never been like this. And that haunts you. You can’t bear to abandon Jimin, to try to get away, to call the police and attempt an escape. You can’t make him surrender his entire life, disappoint his family, lose his scholarship, mark his history with red. You can’t make him lose more of himself than what he’s already lost. Jimin is both the benefit and the consequence you have to shoulder for the choices you made. “Y/N! Come here!” Your mother rushes you in for a hug and pastes a wet kiss on your cheek. “I’m so glad the two of you could make it back for your winter break! I missed you so much.” Jimin shadows you, dragging in the suitcases and your mother smiles at him. “Jimin! You too! Get in here!” She hugs him as he giggles and pats her back. The festive music plays in the background, your dad, brother and sister-in-law in the living room chatting away. But you don’t enter the warm room. Rather, you ascend the darkened staircase. The pitch black envelops your form until you reach for the knob of your old room. The door creaks as it swings open. Your room is undisturbed, just like you left it except for the thin layer of dust sitting on the furniture. You remember when you sat at the desk, when you knew absolutely nothing. Stiffly, you take two strides and sit back down on the creaking chair. You flick the table lamp on and off, watching how it illuminates the space before darkening it again, listening to the click of the button. Then, your eyes travel to the discarded lighter. You pick it up, rolling the wheel and observing the flame that sparks. A moment later, you put it down and instinctively from the habits you’ve built, you reach down to tug open the bottom drawer. As if you’ll see the Love Pages reappear. As if the notebook will sit right there as it did for so long. But instead, you notice a folded piece of lined paper tucked at the side. You take it out, studying the page in a transfixed state. The lines are a light blue, the white crisp and clean, but it’s completely torn on the side. You remember. “Erase Jimin’s name.” Jihyo all that time ago, tried to convince you to erase his name. You should’ve listened to her then, salvaged your friendship while you still could. But what was left of her and that fight was this page torn out of the Love Pages. You stare at it. The final evidence of such a notebook ever existing. And then you’re grabbing the pen on your desk. The ink bleeds on the page, letters feathering away, but you scratch it hard enough to hear, looping the names onto the paper, knowing it’s permanent— L/N Y/N Park Jimin Jimin shuffles into the room and notices your backside cowering over the desk. “Sweetheart, is there something wrong? Are you hiding something?” You turn from the chair and he’s startled from your enormous grin and your brightened eyes. You shake your head and run to him, lurching forward. “Jimin!” You throw your arms around his neck and he stumbles back from the impact of your embrace. “I love you so, so much.” It’s hard to express the feelings that have suddenly devastated you, so you tear yourself from him to kiss him. It’s an eager kiss, one where your mouths smack together, where you’re gripping his sweater, tasting him and trying to get as close as you can but to no avail. All you’re aware of is the need to have Jimin by your side. You might die without him here. When you pull away, he’s grinning, happy that you aren’t so distant anymore. “You love me, right?” “Of course, I do!” Jimin’s almost upset at the question. “Why would you even ask that?!” You laugh joyfully, the sound chortling from your throat. Your chest is rising and falling, pupils blown wide as your massive grin makes your cheeks ache. “Then you’re mine.” “That’s right. I’m yours.” You embrace Jimin again, arms wrapped tightly around his warm torso as your nose digs into his shoulder and his own arms cage your body. It feels like you’ve been sewn to each other by your skin and the thought makes you even more giddy. You love him so much, more than the whole world itself.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts angst #bts yandere #bts yandere AU #I know what you're thinking #two dark Jimin fics in a row???#yes lol #the schedule ended up working out that way so I hope y'all don't mind #the fluff will soon be returning to my blog

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andraaste · 3 years

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I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 15

No, you’re not dreaming, here is indeed chapter 15 ! I sincerely hope you’ll enjoy it 💕 (and please, forgive me for the quality of the translation 😭)

Chapter 15 : We’re going to make a deal, you and me

- Good evening, my little dragon.

I closed my eyes for a moment to savor the sound of his voice in my ear, feeling like an eternity had passed since the last time we were alone. At this probably late hour, the corridor was quiet, there was hardly anyone to surprise us which helped me to let myself go and take advantage of his proximity.

- Good evening, I answered, amused to hear him call me like that a second time, the first being when his ice had mingled with my breath.

I felt his lips in turn sketch a big smile close to my head. Running one of his hands to the doorknob of his bedroom door, he opened it before placing his two palms on my hips to push me into the room, leaving me no possibility of stealing away. Once inside, he closed the door behind us with a snap. I took the opportunity to finally turn to him and remained speechless for a moment.

Lance was visibly coming out of the shower as his loose hair was dripping onto his black t-shirt and the rolled up towel he had laid casually on the back of his neck. His locks, an almost bluish white, fell wildly on his face, making him look younger than I had ever seen him before.

I literally thought I was fainting when he looked at me with his eyes both icy and burning under the barrier of his frivolous locks.

My God, he was so beautiful.

- How are you feeling ? I went to see you in the infirmary but you were snoring pretty loud, I didn't want to wake you up, he said seriously before bursting into a frank laugh at my bewildered look.

I really hoped I hadn't done this.

- I'm much better, thank you, I replied, giving him a grimace in passing. And at least I hope you liked it, otherwise I don't know how to go about looking attractive.

Approaching with a bemused air, a thin amused smile stuck on his face, he slipped his hands under my neck until his fingers came to mingle fiercely at the base of my scalp, thus tilting my head in his direction and giving birth to light currents of energy on the smallest bit of skin he touched.

- I'm really reassured, he confessed intensely, before resuming in a much lighter tone. Your snores are the sexiest I've heard, don't doubt it. Besides, if you hadn't been bleeding, I would most likely have had a hard time resisting your charm.

I couldn’t help but laugh in my turn at his nonsense. I wasn't sure if I'd ever seen him so relaxed before, but I liked it more than I dared admit.

- In that case, I'll try to be careful not to look too attractive, you shouldn't give up.

As if to prove my words right, his intense gaze drifted shamelessly to my lips, giving rise to a new sensation in my lower stomach. His expression, meanwhile become indecipherable, literally hung on me at the slightest of his movements, my heart pounding so hard I was sure it could almost become audible.

But it was with disappointment that I felt him slowly let go of me, brushing my neck with a tiny involuntary caress.

- You’re right. I unfortunately have the impression of not being far from it, at times.

Suddenly absent, he lost himself for a few seconds in contemplating the void behind me, which allowed me to observe him more openly. I was about to answer him when his voice echoed between us again.

- You look much healthier than yesterday, anyway. Besides, were you able to eat something ?

Oh. How could I tell him that the only thought I had in my head when I woke up in the infirmary had been to see him, before even thinking of anything else ?

Realizing he was right, I rubbed a hand on my stomach as a low gurgling sound was heard.

- Uh... not yet, I said, caught in the act. In fact, I didn't have time to take a shower either.

A new smile surreptitiously dawned on his lips.

- Was the little human in too much of a hurry to find me ?

- No matter what, I defended myself, looking away, the blush rising in my cheeks. I just walked past your room before arriving at mine. And then, you didn't give me the choice to enter, I'll call you back.

- It's true that you seemed completely against it, he said ironically.

This idiot was having too much fun with the situation for my liking, so I decided to fake my departure.

- Well now that I'm gone, I'll be able to go take care of all that. I'll probably see you tomorrow, Lance.

My light tone didn't seem to baffle him for a second. I walked around him to make my way to the exit while watching him out of the corner of my eye casually remove the wet towel from his neck. But, when my fingers were about to engage the handle, a dark-skinned hand suddenly entered my field of vision, coming to rest with authority on the wooden frame, keeping the door firmly closed. His breath tickled my cheek.

- Alright, we're going to make a deal, you and me, he began. You can go take a shower, but then you meet me here. I take care of the rest.

- When you say "the rest", do you mean that I take my meal in your room ?

- It's almost midnight, the refectory is closed but Karuto is still in the kitchen. I know very well that he will make an effort for you, on the other hand he will never let you eat on the spot when he has just cleaned the room.

I did indeed imagine Karuto reacting that way, which made me laugh.

- What if I don't accept ?

- Who said you have the choice ? he wondered, breaking into a broad, confident smile.

I crossed my arms, an eyebrow raised and an amused pout.

- Isn't a deal just supposed to be accepted by both parties ?

He withdrew his hand before shrugging, feigning innocence.

- Call it what you want as long as your butt comes back quickly here, and know that I will not hesitate to come and get you myself if necessary, he concluded with an air that didn’t leave the leisure refuse.

This man was just incorrigible, but for once I must say I was ready to listen to him very wisely.

Once my shower was finished, I quickly went to my room to put on some clean clothes. Was I stressed about joining Lance ?

Totally.

With a lump in my stomach, I knocked on his door and then entered without waiting for an answer. Leaning over a book with an ancient cover, the dragon seemed to be searching for something in these pages yellowed by time. Crouching on the ground, his long top hair fell over his eyes, hiding part of his concentrated face.

I walked into the room as he carefully closed the book, straightening up in the process.

- Hey, I said softly, stopping near him. What are you looking for ?

Seeming relieved to see me come back, he grabbed me delicately by the waist to plant a kiss on the top of my head, making my poor heart resume its frantic run.

- Hey, he replied calmly while releasing me, as if nothing had happened. I go through all of the HQ books relating to the three great races of Eldarya, including dragons and aengels, but I can't find anything similar to what's happening between our powers. I almost wonder if this phenomenon isn’t totally apart, even if it’s quite insane.

Tilting my head to the side, I observed the old cover he still held between his fingers before noticing that the title was written in Greek. Turning my head in the direction of the bookcase that adorned the wall beside me, I was amazed to discover that it was filled with a multitude of alphabets that I was unable to read.

I returned my attention to him.

- Maybe this is information that has been intentionally suppressed ?

He seemed to think about my guess, his gaze in turn lost on the covers.

- At the point where we are, I think anything is possible.

He tried to push the wicks that blocked his view with a passage of his hand, but they immediately returned to their place, which made him look incredibly... wild.

And sexy.

When he returned his attention to me again, I had the unpleasant feeling that my thoughts were on my face, which probably made me turn crimson. Fortunately, the dragon seemed in a calm mood and did’nt get up.

- Are you hungry ?

His question caught me off guard, I had totally forgotten that point of our "deal", if I could really call it that. Lance went to get a tray on his desk, on which sat a real full meal. So he wasn't laughing when he said that Karuto would agree to do this for me, I clearly hadn't expected that much.

He put the tray down on his bed and invited me to sit down.

- I don't really have a suitable place to eat here... I hope it will be okay anyway.

My heart warmed even more at his attention. I felt... good, to be completely honest.

- It’ll be very good, don’t worry. Thank you so much.

I sat down and began to eat timidly at first, then with more and more appetite as my hunger aroused. By the time I swallowed my meal, the dragon had returned to his activities, leaving me plenty of time to observe him.

Entirely dressed in black, only the color of his hair contrasted, highlighting the trace of his scar on the back of his neck. It was the first time that I had seen it almost entirely, it ending its way under his top.

Leiftan's words came back to me then. This scar, it was probably the wound with which he had been made dead, becoming as a result of this incident the character of Ashkore. What had happened to him, exactly ? The aengel had described it as his only weak point, which was why he never went out without covering the back of his neck. But another question was bothering me.

Did he ever show it openly to others, as he was doing with me now ?

My gaze fell on his back, which was both wide and slender. Our relationship was progressing step by step, it was a fact, but had it evolved so much without me realizing it ?

It was true that we had kissed, but this incident had only happened once. I had reacted with my deepest fears, seeking some comfort in the arms of the only person who had actually seen me. And, in truth, Lance had ultimately only responded to my urges.

But, calmly, what was it then ?

I ended up swallowing my entire meal, and it was with a full stomach that I got up to put the tray back in its original place. Probably remembering my presence, the young man decided to stop his research and put back the books he had taken out. I decided to join him, placing myself at his side in order to help him.

- Did you manage to find something ? I questioned him, cascading my long black hair down behind my shoulder.

- Not at all.

Leaning forward slightly, he came to rub his face with both hands, looking visibly overwhelmed at not finding any information that could be of use to him.

- I didn't find anything about your connection with Leiftan either, to believe that these phenomena are totally unique to you, he said while giving me a sideways glance. You really have something special, no matter what you think of it.

I pretended to be focused on my task to hide the cloudy feeling his assertion gave me.

- Something special, that's for sure. I'm sure there hasn't been any aengel before me that's been on the verge of death because she couldn't pull out her poor wings.

Lance laughed frankly at my reflection, visibly amused by my jaded expression.

- On the verge of death, exactly ?

- Obviously ! And don't laugh, it's a lot more complicated than you think, I continued on the same length.

His gaze much sharper than a moment earlier, made butterflies born in my stomach. I liked to see him come alive when one of our discussions amused him.

- Indeed, I had forgotten that I did’nt know what it was like to have wings, he quipped before nimbly intercepting my vain attack on his shoulder, making resonate again his hoarse laughter as his hand decided not to let go of mine.

- You will end up hurting yourself, I will prevent you for your good.

Personally, I used to call it an oversized ego. I assumed, however, that it was too late to make up for this point on him.

- Besides, you could see your back when you went to take your shower ?

- Yes, I said, remembering the image of my skin, it strangely almost healed. We hardly distinguish anything, there are only a few traces of bruising. I don't understand, yesterday I passed out because of this, and today... it's like there never was anything.

The dragon was silent for a moment, probably analyzing my words.

- It's already a good thing that it has improved, even if I understand your frustration at not reacting in a "normal" way, let's say.

I stopped, my free hand resting on a book and my gaze fixed in front of me. That was it, he was right. Although in this particular case it was a good thing, my body was once again reacting in an abnormal, inexplicable way, and it was this point that bothered me the most.

Without ever showing anything, Lance always listened attentively to the slightest of my silences.

Sometimes I felt like he understood me better than I did.

I turned my attention back to him and was surprised to fall directly on his gaze of such cold blue and such deep intensity, that I lost myself in it without any escape. His hand finally let go of mine to move up my arm, stopping its course when his long, thin fingers reached my cheek. When these slid down the back of my neck, I instinctively turned my face in his direction.

Just before his lips caught mine bluntly.

I in turn buried my fingers in his hair while responding eagerly to his kiss. Without warning, his other arm wrapped around my waist to lift me up against him, pinning my legs on either side of his hips. In two long strides, Lance turned off the overhead light to turn on a new, much more intimate one, then laid me confidently on the mattress. His body positioned just above me, I pushed him to stand up with my hands against his chest, following him in his race. When he found himself only leaning on his knees, I lifted his dark t-shirt to pull it over his head. The dragon helped me without flinching, rolling his muscles under his tanned skin as he sent the garment to graze.

Without giving me time to do anything, he made me tilt back again so as to come over me completely. Catching my hips with his large hands, he slid me so that I was pushed up higher in the bed.

I grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and pulled on it, quickly baring my stomach and then my chest. Lance didn't have the patience to wait for me to finish removing it to take it to the next level. With dexterity, he was already unbuttoning my pants with one hand while kissing each part of my body which was revealed little by little, then, with a sharp and precise movement, he pulled on them in order to slide first my buttocks then my legs, until I remove it completely.

Only wearing my panties, I dug my fingers into the quilt above my head under his feverish gaze. He continued to kiss my body, varying sometimes between a nibble or a lick on my burning skin, his eyes disappearing in the wake of his messy hair as he started the slope of my curves.

When I felt my underwear slide over my thighs, his kisses became softer, deeper. He parted my legs with his suddenly patient hands, stroking my thin skin in a slow trajectory as he positioned himself lower.

My breath quickened in a split second when his tongue met me.

First applied, the young man wasn’t long in settling on the crescendo of my moans to deepen each of his licks, bringing me to the climax when his fingers joined the dance, sinking deep into me. My legs began to shake, forcing me to sink my teeth into the flesh of my arm so as not to wake up the whole HQ. When my jolts finally subsided, the dragon didn't give me a second's respite. Kissing my mouth passionately, he stood up to remove the only clothes he had left. I couldn't help but bite my lip as I admired the beauty of the man standing in front of me.

A slight smile spread across his full lips as he towered over me again, making his way effortlessly between my thighs. He leaned on one arm and grabbed one of my legs with his free hand, pulling it over his hip. I took the opportunity to wrap it around him and at the same time raised my pelvis, so as to make it easier for him.

Sliding my hand on his cheek, I anchored myself in his gaze so intense that I was deeply moved.

Unfortunately, I couldn't keep my fingernails from digging into his flesh when he pushed hard inside me. A single drop of blood immediately escaped the scratch and came to his lips as he began to perform several massive back and forth movements.

He leaned close to my ear.

- My angel, I have just started and you already bleed me, he laughs weakly.

But he didn't give me a chance to answer, at least not as I would have liked. Accentuating his jerks, my cries began to fill the room more and more loudly.

It didn't take long for our mouths to meet again, as if magnetized now that they had finally found each other, in turn making the red pearl flow to the hollow of my lips.

(Chapter 16)

#eldarya #eldarya new era #i am not your enemy #eldarya lance #lance eldarya #lance #eldarya the origins #ashkore #beemoov #eldarya fanfiction #fanfiction #eldarya fanfic

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emilia3546 · 3 years

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He Never Left Your Side - Nesta and Rhys

Nesta hasn't really spoken to Rhys since Nyx's birth, not for more than polite greetings anyway. But after attending a meeting about training the female Illyrians, they're stuck together with too much left unsaid.

*****

Nesta sighed as she stared out over the Illyrian mountains, enthralled by its rugged beauty, the raw untamed power in those jagged peaks, she almost forgot the male standing beside her, almost.

"You think it's beautiful," Rhys broke her concentration, and she held back the snappy response that would have allowed her to continue staring in silence,

"I've always been drawn the the wilder things in life," she said simply, let him take from that what he would, it was true in every sense, she'd never been the woman her mother had expected, not in her heart. But now, with the Valkyries, with Cassian, she was finally the person she was born to be, even if it was twenty five years too late.

"Thank you for coming today, I think we're getting there," Nesta wasn't so sure, the meeting had been a disaster, every Camp Lord had refused training to females, although, some had conceded permission for Nesta to run Valkyrie training, but no allowance would be made from camp chores and jobs. It was the first, very tiny, step, but a step nonetheless,

"Can't you just order them?"

"They'd disobey it, and I'd have to bring force in, I don't want a civil war, this is the only way, but with you showing that females can do it, we will get there, so thank you."

"I'll admit I never thought you'd say that to me of all people,"

"Will you hate me again if I say that I never expected to say it?"

"No. I'll mark you down as pragmatic though." Rhys laughed beside her, but Nesta couldn't tear her gaze from the view before her, "But you don't have to thank me, for anything, like it or not, you're my brother,"

"Still, I don't think I'll ever manage to thank you enough for saving Feyre's life,"

"She's my sister." Nesta did glance sideways at that, "And it was about time I returned the favor," she admitted, almost starting in surprise at the respect in Rhys' eyes, and the chuckle that left his lips,

"Don't tell her that. I'm glad that you found your own way to healing, and I'm sorry that it wasn't me who helped you, I was blinded by my anger over the past, it was wrong of me, and, well, you remind me of myself in some ways, I'm not altogether sure that's a good thing."

"That's a good thing."

"But, you are my sister, and I know we can't rebuild something that was never there, but I would like to really know you, I want you to be a part of the family. I owe you everything, and it shouldn't have taken me this long to give you a chance."

"You owe me nothing."

"Agree to disagree," Nesta offered him a small smile at that, the first time they'd truly agreed to anything, and stared back out at the mountains,

"I didn't believe Feyre when she said I'd like you, and I was right, but I hated you because you were what I could have been, with the right people, but I never truly hated you I don't think, I always respected you, somewhat grudgingly, but I did, mostly for your judgement of me, many males would have simply let me do what I was doing, left it to Feyre to try and reach me, you didn't go about it the best way, mind you, but the idea was what I needed. Maybe it was for her benefit at the time, but I doubt that's true now,"

"No, it's not, believe it or not, I like you, Nesta, I didn't like the Nesta who returned after the war, but I should have recognized that you were hurting and needed support, I'm glad you were able to find it." Nesta smiled,

"I do have a bone to pick with you, though,"

"Oh yeah?"

"You gave Cass baby fever."

"I do apologize," he laughed, "Are you sure you can't hold him off?"

"Oh I can hold him off, he won't insist, but still, it's all your fault," she teased, finally relaxing, her attention no longer zeroed in on Rhys, but their surroundings, as it usually was. The companionable silence surrounding them still surprised her, were it anyone else, she'd have expected incessant talking, but it seemed that he understood, they had said what they needed to right now, it was just about learning to trust one another, to find the family bonds that they had neglected.

It was this silence that alerted her to a slight sound, a sound she assumed was Rhys moving from where she couldn't see him, but the silence made her look round, not even the birds were singing any more, a flash of movement drew her attention. She moved on instinct, not knowing what the movement was, but a sense of danger overwhelmed her as she stepped into its path, shoving Rhys aside. As it crashed into her, she identified one of the Illyrians from the meeting, a Camp Lord's son, bringing up her hand to slam her fist into his face, his nose crumpling under her fist as he stumbled backwards.

"Oh gods, Nesta,"

"What?" It was only when she stepped away from the unconscious male that she noticed the crimson drops of blood on the stone, except the blood from his nose hadn't fallen. She glanced down, her hands automatically pressing into her side at the sight of the dagger buried to the hilt just below her ribs. It hardly occurred to her that she'd saved Rhys' life, again, with the blade's trajectory aiming to sever his spinal cord had she not intervened. Horror was written across his features as her vision fractured from the pain radiating from the wound, and he stepped back to support her as she stumbled, "Now you owe me," she laughed, and winced at the pain such a movement caused.

"Hang on, I'll fix this, I will, I've just got to get us home first, okay?"

"Mmhm," Nesta mumbled, her vision failing completely as blood rushed past her fingers, staining the cliffs red as they vanished, reappearing in one of the River House's guest bedrooms. Nesta didn't register Rhys setting her down in the bed, didn't register when the door flew open and Feyre rushed in, gasping in horror at the sight of her sister.

"Could you go and fetch Cass, it'd be better to tell him face to face,"

"Okay yeah, what happened?"

"She saved my life."

Nesta did register the dagger being withdrawn, and the paint that redoubled afterwards, but a quiet tap against her mental shields encouraged her to lower them, she sensed no danger from that presence, and the pain vanished, allowing her to slip into a blissful state of unconsciousness. She didn't wake when Cassian arrived moments later, all but begging Rhys to heal her. She didn't wake when the sides of the wound closed, blood vessels realigning, skin sealing back together at Rhys' command. She didn't wake when Rhys explained what she'd done, without even thinking about it. She didn't wake when Cassian kissed her brow, when he demanded to see the male who'd hurt her. She didn't wake when Rhys admitted to having left him behind, or when Cassian checked over her again, making sure that she was really okay before leaving to find Azriel to catch the male who'd attacked them.

She did wake when her stomach demanded the dinner she'd missed, finding Rhys still sitting beside her,

"Don't get up, it was quite deep, it might not be fully healed yet, when I heal with my magic it can take a bit of time if it's a serious injury, just take your time, do you need anything?"

"Honestly, food, and a glass of water," Rhys smiled at that,

"You're okay then, so long as anyone who's been injured is asking for food, that tends to mean they're okay really, hang on, I'll be right back." Nesta closed her eyes again, only opening them when Feyre's voice sounded through her sleep,

"Nesta? You said you were hungry?"

"Thank you," he stomach growled again at the scent of the simple broth, and she slowly sat up, the pain reduced to a dull ache as she moved, pausing at the sight of Rhys beside her, sprawled in a chair beside her bed, his head leaning back against a precariously balanced cushion.

"He hasn't left your side," Feyre said, handing Nesta the tray of food, "He insisted on healing you himself, it tires him, his magic is not really designed for healing, but he wanted to do it," Nesta smiled to herself, he was a better male than she'd ever given him credit for, and she was proud to call him her brother. From Feyre's smile, she must have said it out loud, and she nodded, she meant it, it was about time they found the love that they'd been missing all their lives.

tags: @teagoddess99 @brenda5601 @azrielsdarling13 @1helena @shisingh @valkygwyn @soffiiione @toolazymyguy @awesomelena555 @trashforazriel @dealingdifferentdevils @ximena-inlovewithazwyn @almosttenaciousmoon @aightimmaheadoutsblog @alexoik @selfdestructionfetish

#fanfiction #fanfic #acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #nesta #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #rhysand #rhys #nesta and rhys #nesta and feyre #sibling bonding

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itsuki-minamy · 3 years

Text

LIMITED KINGSHIP, WAR STORIES:

CHAPTER 3: BLUE CLOTHES & BLACK CLOTHES

* Mini Episodes KFCN (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

The rain that started to fall in the morning was pouring down in the afternoon.

Kazumada Takechi liked the rain. To put it more precisely, he thought that "it was preferable if it rained at the time of shipment". The rain hid many things. The more smoke screens there were, the better you would be earning in terms of visibility, steps, number of people, and amount of initial exit information. It would be great if the enemy was destroyed without knowing which is the right or the left.

According to the notification from the information department, the number of confirmed black clothes was six. They were said to be hiding near the abandoned influx facility in Shirotsuchi Ward. "Scepter 4" formed a breakthrough unit consisting of 18 people and dispatched them directly to the site without delay. The hideout was in a river area away from the residential area, and the fact that there was no need to consider the damage in the surrounding area was the deciding factor in making a quick decision.

In the first confrontation, the two dressed in black were incapacitated.

From that moment on, it was the usual battlefield. A catastrophic counterattack of angry words, taunts, and black clothes turned into living bombs. A firestorm blew, and the storm-swallowed limbs screamed and turned. Overcoming this, Takechi and others proceeded. When he tries to cut the one in black clothes and go further to the hall,

"Die! Blue clothes!"

From the side room, black clothes appeared.

A flaming fist protruded into Takechi's face. Takechi prevented it with a shield of extraordinary skill, and waved a saber at the back of the opponent's neck. He avoided the one in black clothes, kicked the ground and hit the enemy's entire body like a bullet with martial arts.

"Guh..."

The epigastrium broke and Takechi lost his balance. Those in black pushed Takechi down as if they were entwined, and laughed as if they were riding a horse.

"Hey, that's it!"

The one in black raised his burned right fist, with the flame of extraordinary ability.

He couldn't turn it off.

"Ah?"

He blinked and looked mysteriously at his fist. On his flank, Takechi hit the left hook hopefully. Takechi bounced off the one in black that lifted his body with a crushed groan and stood up as he coughed.

"What is this?"

Rolling into the corner of the hallway and quickly regaining his posture, the one in black got annoyed when he saw his left wrist.

There he put on a metal wristband. Takechi installed it at his own discretion when he became a rider.

"It's a different suppressor, bracelets type. As long as you're using it, you can't use your abilities."

"Don't be silly, take it from me! Right now!"

"If you were me, would you remove it?"

Takechi approached the one in black, saying that clearly. In the battle with "Purgatory", the death of the hostile clan member is allowed, but orders have been issued to stop him and bring him back "if possible". Black's threat, which had been sealed, was so low that he could take it away and he tried to stop it.

At that moment, red and orange lights filled the field of vision.

"Mmm!"

Takechi reflexively reflected his hands in front of his eyes and developed a field of different abilities. He protected himself and the defenseless black-robed man. Probably a suicide bomb attack with another in black. In response to the deadly pressure of power, Takechi held the field with concentration on him,

"Take off because it's fine, you bastard dressed in blue!"

The one in black screamed and rushed inside.

"Now, stupid!"

He lost concentration. At the last minute, a crack occurred in the talented field that had stopped the blast and it immediately collapsed. Takechi and the one in black attached to him were dragged like leaves in a muddy stream, smashing the window panes and thrown "outside".

There was a huge "hole" in the "outside".

"Mmm!"

Takechi grew impatient as he spun in midair.

In the pre-operative briefing, he knew what that "hole" looked like. It is a well with a diameter of 30 meters and a depth of 70 meters to pour the water from the flooded river into an underground drainage channel.

If you are a talented person, you will be safe even if they throw you out here. He should have been able to deal with it by softening the impact of the fall or by clinging to the inner wall due to the power of it.

However, the one in black that was thrown with him was sealed.

If he fell like this, he would die.

Within seconds of the fall, Takechi recognized, thought, and made up his mind. Takechi was angry, shining with an extraordinary brilliance under his feet.

"Damn it! Why am I saving one from black?"

He then he jumped further as if kicking in the air, holding the one in black and falling into the depths of the "hole".

++++++++++

He woke up with the sensation of being hit by his body.

He opened his eyes slightly. In the field of vision like a movie, his dark red hair was swaying. The temples on one side of him were cut off and the other side of him was injured. Takechi reflected on a fuzzy thought that the one in the black suit had a drunken hairstyle. So he came back to himself.

There was a man in black in front of him. The member of the clan "Purgatory", the enemy of the sky.

"What are you doing?!"

He screamed out of reflex, pulling away from the man in black, Takechi tugged on his right hand to catch him. He looked there involuntarily.

Takechi's right hand and the man in black's left hand were connected by a handcuff-like power suppressor.

A low, whining voice escaped from his throat.

"What is this?"

"You don't know what to look for! You're connected! Quick, give me the key, you fucking bastard!"

The function of the suppressor of different abilities does not choose the opponent. Whether it is "Purgatory", Strain or "Scepter 4", those who use it will be blocked from different abilities, and their physical abilities will be the same as those of normal humans.

(Why is it on my wrist?), he thought.

"You've done it?"

"I don't know! I was like this when I realized it!"

The man in black who had lost his fangs was screaming and it seemed that he was not lying.

If so, was it a coincidence? Takechi and the one in black fell into the well in a tangled manner. It seems that the impact of the fall could be softened by Takechi's abilities, but the momentum at that moment caused the empty handcuffs to get stuck in Takechi's hands.

As a result, the one in blue clothes and the one in black clothes were sealed and lost their abilities, falling behind at the bottom of the shaft.

"That's probably what happened."

Explaining that, the one in black shot Takechi's lock to the max.

"Don't worry, that's it!"

As he scowled and endured the pain, Takechi glared at the one in black. He helped him with all his might, but what was that attitude? He thought he should have abandoned him, but that would violate the order to bring the man in black alive "as much as possible".

With a sigh, Takechi confirmed the situation.

There was no doubt that they were at the bottom of a cylindrical shaft. Looking up, light and rain poured from the rounded sky. The water that collected at the ankle was wetting Takechi's entire body and the one in black.

He felt no pain when he tried to move his body. He was lucky to have fallen from that height and not injured himself, although he had used his ability, but he had encountered another problem.

The radio was broken. With this, it was not possible to request help from "Scepter 4".

When he was thinking with a difficult look, the one in black yelled, "Hey!"

"Okay! Take off the handcuffs and you'll be fine! Even you are in trouble if you can't use your skills!"

Looking back at his unruly puppy eyes, Takechi asked.

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"Eh?"

"You probably woke up earlier. You should have killed me while I was passed out and then look for the key, why didn't you?"

After thinking about the one in black for a while, he made an "Ah…" face.

When he was shocked that he couldn't think about it because he didn't have a conscientious response, the one in black stood up and grabbed Takechi's chest.

"Oh! Idiot, you've made a fool of me now!"

"Actually it is."

"That's it! I'll kill you from now on!"

The one in black jumped up and tried to put his hands on Takechi's neck. Takechi shook it off with a disgusted face. The one in black was very small and seemed weak. In the case of fighting with sealed abilities, there was no element that Takechi lost, who was superior in physique and had received combat training.

He could kill that guy at any time.

But…

After thinking for a while, Takechi controlled the one in black who was still in an uproar with one hand.

"Wait. Calm down."

"Don't worry! Die! Or take off the handcuffs right now!"

"I don't have the key."

The movement of the man in black stopped.

"The "Scepter 4" runners do not carry the key because if they are stolen, the hostile clan member they sealed will be revived. I cannot remove the handcuffs unless I return to the transport vehicle or headquarters."

"Hm... oh ... that's..."

"Will you still kill me and drag the corpse away? Can you do it now? I weigh 94 kg."

The one in black grabbed his mouth and stared at Takechi's thick boar neck and his tight shoulders. He seemed like he could hear the sound of thinking going round and round.

Takechi did not miss the opportunity and opened a hand in front of the one in black clothes.

"I have a suggestion. Let's make a truce."

"Eh?"

"I don't want to drag your corpse. I want you to walk anyway. So how about a break until we get out of this hole?"

The one in black looked at Takechi with suspicious eyes and asked:

"Exit, then, and then?"

"I'll drag you to headquarters. If you don't like it, you can resist. If you're lucky, your friends can find you. Then you will die."

"......"

"Or do you stay here and starve?"

"......!"

The one in black thought, thought, thought, and finally scratched his red hair and screamed like a buffoon.

"Oh, yeah! Okay! That's fine!"

"Ok."

Takechi looked around him, and then, when it suddenly occurred to him,

"What is your name?"

The one in black glared at Takechi.

"Ah? Why would I give my name to a blue outfit?"

"I am Takechi Kazumada."

"Hey! Listen to me!"

He was angry and hit Takechi, but his thick chest was not afraid. As Takechi stared at him without saying anything, he sighed and murmured, as if the one in black clothes had taken root.

"Mina."

"That is all."

Takechi nodded, convinced.

"I was not confident because your body is thin, but that is correct. You are a woman."

Mina dressed in black kicked Takechi again.

++++++++++

The stairs leading to the ground had brilliantly collapsed after about 10 steps.

"What is this? Do a good job..."

Mina said bitterly, Takechi shrugged.

"This is an abandoned well in the first place. It is wrong to expect decent maintenance."

"Sorry. You don't react to soliloquy one by one."

She looked up and threw it away, but Takechi started walking without any particular pretense. Because they were connected, Mina couldn't help it.

A tunnel was cut through the shaft at a distance from the stairs to the ground. She was one step away from one of them. It seemed true that it was not maintained and there was real darkness with no emergency lights.

Wondering what to do, Takechi pulled the flashlight from his blue clothes. A powerful beam of light illuminated the interior of the tunnel. It was about 10 meters in diameter and the destination was covered in darkness, so he had no idea what was going on.

Mina asked Takechi anxiously.

"Hey. Is it really here?"

"I don’t know."

"Eh?! You don't know the way!"

Takechi looked at Mina coldly.

"I only know the data. I don't know which way the exit is."

"That is not usable. You are a tax thief!"

"There is no reason for criminals to say so."

Mina and Takechi walked through the tunnel while cursing each other.

The tunnel was wide, but dark and damp. Of course, it was not a path for humans and vehicles to walk. The reflected footsteps reawakened anxiety and Mina hit Takechi on the elbow.

"Hey. What is this path?"

"It is an underground drainage canal."

"What's that?"

Takechi looked at Mina with stunned eyes.

"You didn't even know what they were occupying? Geez..."

She was irritated. She used to hit him with a fist of fire, but now Mina couldn't do that. She screamed to reduce the anxiety of squeezing and opening her right hand.

"Please just answer! What's in here?"

She wondered if he could reply in disappointment, but Takechi explained clearly as he looked ahead.

"The underground drainage channel is like a tunnel to take the water from the river when a flood is about to occur. We have fallen into a well to drain the flood into the drainage channel. There are several, all connected through channels of underground drains, so if you get to a working pit, you should be able to get to the ground from there. "

"Mmm..."

Mina's nose was confused by his unexpectedly polite explanation. Yes, they did not know the details of the facilities they occupied and Mina did not even know that there was a system to prevent floods.

"What is that axis? How long do you need to walk?"

"The total length of the flood channel is 10 km and the number of wells is 5, so if calculated, the average distance of each is 2 km."

Takechi looked back at the path he had taken with a delicate expression.

"Here's a discarded axle. I still don't know if it's still connected to another axle. Maybe it's stuck in the way."

"Hey! What's that?!"

"It is not my fault to fall here or not know the way."

Mina tried to curse Takechi again, but she reconsidered and tied her lips.

Takechi was a blue robe and her enemy, but from what he had spoken, he seemed to have a fair personality. Certainly, as he said, this situation was not due to Takechi. The reason they fell here was because of Mina's attack, and...

Mina looked down at her feet and spat out the question that she had caught in the back of her throat.

"Why did you help me?"

Takechi looked at Mina. Mina continued her words, feeling his gaze around her.

"We, the 'Purgatory' clan, I think that for the blue clothes, we are just bugs. If you had dropped me as I was, you would save yourself a lot of trouble, but why didn't you?"

Takechi thought for a bit and then replied.

"I never thought of 'Purgatory' as an insect. I think they are criminals."

Then he looked ahead.

"If they want to hurt us with their abilities, we have to fight, but if they don't, they don't have to die. Criminals are still human. If you're incapacitated, I have to protect you because that's my job."

"......"

Mina didn't know how difficult it was.

So she didn't understand half of what Takechi said. What she could barely understand was that he was in a job helping people and that he thought Mina was a human being.

She was getting frustrated.

Takechi's response was not what Mina expected. She thought he had fallen next to her in the basement to take her neck and take credit. If he had told her that he helped her for his own benefit, she would not have been so frustrated.

No, thinking about it again...

After all, Takechi helped Mina, to take credit for himself. The reason why she walks on the ground like this was probably because it is difficult to carry Mina's corpse. Takechi himself said so, so it was for his own benefit after all.

She wouldn't forget it. Takechi was a blue clothes. She knew that many of her friends from "Purgatory" had been killed by the blue clothes. No wonder he strangled her as soon as she hit the ground. So she was not afraid.

When she was thinking about that while she was looking at the ground...

"Wah..."

She tapped the tip of her nose against Takechi's back who stopped.

"Hey... why are you stopping?"

Mina rubbed her nose and protested, and Takechi made a little soliloquy.

"What's wrong with this?"

When he wondered what it was, he noticed.

Moist air and the sound of flowing water.

The road split in two in front of Takechi. The right side was a bit higher and the left side was a bit lower. A stream of water flowed from right to left along the fork. That meant…

"This means that if you go somewhere, you can go out, right?"

"Probably yes. The fact that the water is flowing means that it is connected to a live shaft."

"Then you don't have to stop. Let's go quickly."

Takechi grabbed Mina's wrist as she tried to walk.

"No, you should go back."

"Eh?"

"The river water flows inwards. I don't know the state of the soil, but there is a danger that the amount of water will increase if it rains a lot. Let's go back and go through another tunnel."

"Don't worry, why do I have to turn around if I've walked so far? Let's go this way!"

"No, let's go back. Until the situation clears up."

Mina looked seriously at Takechi, who still had a hard expression, and then laughed.

"What's wrong, are you scared, you idiot? How much water do you think it is?"

Takechi replied grumpily.

"Even if the water is low now, it may rise in the future. It may be too late to go back after that. Don't you know?"

Mina didn't listen and stick her tongue out at him.

"Eh? I don't think it's a good idea to be ridiculous, but we'll say goodbye as soon as possible! It's no joke to wait here!"

"That's the same for me! But considering the danger…"

"That scares you! What's wrong with your courage? If it's too bad, I'm going to leave you alone here!"

Mina started walking, telling him that. But of course her right hand was stretched out and she couldn't go any further. Looking at Takechi with a look of contempt, she started walking with an indignant expression.

Mina shook her shoulders and laughed.

"Hey. You should do it from the beginning, face the problem."

"Black clothes. Remember when we went out..."

"That's my line. I'll kill you, get ready!"

Then they began to follow the path to the left, avoiding the running water.

Five minutes passed and then ten minutes.

Meanwhile, the water level rose steadily. It used to be a stream, but now it was as big and fast as a mountain stream. The water could no longer be avoided approaching the corner of the tunnel, and the splashes began to wet the black shoes. That fact made the silence between the two even heavier.

The two went further.

The water level was rising even higher.

The water level was already up to their ankles. The two of them sped up without saying anything, but the currents of water made them fall over and over again, and they moved ridiculously. Mina screamed unbearably as she supported her body by pushing her hand against the wall on the right side.

"Hey, when will we get there?"

Takechi yelled back without wasting time.

"You should know that! You told me to go this way!"

"Is everything we did wrong?! Idiot, you came with me, right?"

She slipped and fell, sinking from her head to the bottom of the water. Spitting water, scooping up wet red hair, Mina tried to spit out words of anger.

"Hey! Behind you!"

Looking back at Takechi's warning, she found that her face was completely tense.

The water that was twice as high as before was rushing down like a tsunami.

"Run!"

Mina scrambled to her feet and started running with Takechi. Of course they couldn't escape. The water level had already risen to shoulder height and it was not a state where they could run properly. Still, the two of them desperately moved their slowly moving legs.

Feeling the impact of being hit from behind, Mina fell forward again.

She spun as the field of vision went round and round. Mina shook her limbs and tried to keep her body fluid. It was a waste of effort. The water rushed towards her mouth, which she opened in search of air.

She was drowning.

Even if she stretched her legs out, she couldn't even scratch the bottom of the water. Fear of death filled her lungs in an instant, and Mina literally appeared on the surface of the water in a deadly manner.

The water hit there even harder.

Mina's head flew off and crashed into the tunnel wall. A spark flickered in the back of her eyes, and as it disappeared, Mina's consciousness plunged into darkness.

++++++++++

He was lucky that her finger got caught in "it."

Takechi's situation was not much different from Mina's. But, Takechi was taller than Mina. He was able to keep his composure because his feet were on the bottom even though he was being washed.

Mina, who had been hovering until just now, suddenly stopped moving, and Takechi knew from his handcuffs that she was passed out or dead. In any case, it was inevitable that he would follow the same path. He circled his bloodied eyes around him, desperately trying to reach into the wall, wondering if there was any way to help her.

At that moment, his fingertips touched a different texture than concrete.

When he reflexively grasped it, he applied the weight of two people and the pressure of the jet of water, and the ligament in his left arm was stretched to the point of breaking. While frowning in pain, Takechi held Mina's body in his right arm and began to lift them up with the power of his left arm alone.

"It" was apparently like an iron ladder.

Against the water, Takechi brought his body to the ladder, dangled his right foot, dangled his left, and carried Mina on his shoulder. Mina weighed less than half his weight. So there was no particular problem. The unit he once belonged to was trained with a backpack of similar weight on his back.

At his feet, a large amount of water flowed with a sound like that of the ground. If she was swallowed again, this time she would not live. While he was haunted by fear, impatience, and the constantly rising water level, Takechi still secured himself and Mina's body and climbed the ladder.

By pushing the hatch attached to the top of the tunnel and opening it, Takechi and Mina were finally able to reach stable ground.

He stabs his knee into the concrete and take a deep breath. Then Takechi laid Mina's body on her back and listened to her mouth.

She wasn't breathing.

Takechi's decision was quick. He had done it many times in life-saving training. He opened her black garment, gave her a heart massage, opened her airways, and did mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. After several attempts to revive her, Mina's body shook and a surprising amount of water leaked from her lips.

"Keh, Kah..."

After seeing Mina cough, Takechi breathed a bit of relief.

He then he looked around him.

What kind of place was that? Is it a maintenance passage or an emergency evacuation passage installed at the top of the underground drainage channel? There was no doubt that it was still a habitable facility because it had a light green night light. So it was no wonder there was an emergency phone somewhere.

When he got to that point, Mina groaned. Looking at Takechi with a vague look...

"What? What happened…?"

"We were saved. There appears to be an escape route over the tunnel."

"......"

"I won't be able to walk for a while. I'll take a break here."

With that said, Takechi sat down by the wall.

Finally, Mina got up. She sat next to Takechi with a slow movement, her back against the wall in the same way. She brushed away the red hair sticking to her cheek with her finger and asked in a heavy voice.

"Have you helped me again?"

"Well, that's correct."

Mina looked at Takechi with an indescribable gaze and then collapsed.

"Thanks."

Takechi was a bit surprised.

He didn't think the day would come when a black robe would thank him for something, he tried to say that, but a different word came out of his open mouth.

"Ah…"

Then, for a moment, Takechi and Mina stared silently at the ceiling.

They were both soaked, it was cold and they were tired. In the dim light of the night lights, they couldn't even see the color of the other's clothes. The only thing that was transmitted was that there was someone next to them, and only someone's body temperature there. Surrounded by darkness, the two of them were only human.

"And you…"

It was Takechi who broke the silence first.

"Why did you go into 'Purgatory'?"

If it had been the Mine from a little while ago, it would have been repulsive. It was not something related to him, she would rather die quickly than hear his insulting voice in her ears.

But Mina didn't, and she only echoed a careless voice in the dark.

"It's a wrap."

Takechi glanced at Mina. Mina was staring at the ceiling.

"The man I lived with was at the bottom of the Yakuza. The group started fighting with 'Purgatory', and I happened to get involved."

Mina's voice was simple. Like listing the facts.

"The man and the others were all dead, I was wondering if I would die too, but that person came over."

Mina's voice trembled. He knew who that person was without asking. The cause that created the current situation. The worst "King" who does not know self-control, has no cause and exercises violence at will.

Genji Kagutsu.

"Even though the corpses were scattered around, I laughed. I was very scared, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. So, as if grabbing a child's head, my head was in a mess."

Mina shook the air with her left hand and her fingers folded.

"Then... something hot spilled out of that hand. It was so hot, it was painful, and it seemed like my body was going to explode. In fact, it exploded. My right hand burned and I screamed. He was laughing and looking at me."

Takechi looked at Mina's right hand. The scars that were badly burned reached down to her bare shoulder.

"Once that was done, the people around me stood up and passed by. At that point, I became a member of 'Purgatory', and I have been with them ever since."

After speaking, Mina hugged her body tightly. Was it because her wet body was getting cold, or because of the memory of Kagutsu Genji? With a little sympathy, Takechi asked.

"What kind of man is Kagutsu Genji?"

Mina looked at Takechi. The distorted look on one cheek of hers also seems to laugh. With that look, she slowly shook her head and...

"Here we go, I don't know."

It did not appear to be a trap or a joke. Maybe it really was a "I don't know.".

The information department of "Scepter 4" wanted information on Kagutsu Genji. Hometown, age, values, purpose, career before becoming a "King". Knowing the enemy is the first step to capturing him. Therefore, it was an important goal for "Scepter 4" to know what kind of person Kagutsu Genji was.

However, the answer he got was, strangely, the same as Mina, "I don't know.".

One day, Kagutsu Genji suddenly appeared. With the power of "King", he destroyed neighboring antisocial organizations, absorbed the rest of the reconciliation, and "Purgatory" gained momentum.

No one knew where Kagutsu Genji was coming from and no one knew where he was going. He had no past or future, but he lived the present in a sensible and catastrophic way. That was the kind of existence that Kagutsu Genji created.

The words that Mina muttered clearly expressed that.

"That person is a bakemono." (Synonymous with yokai.)

Takechi nodded slightly, but opened his eyes at Mina's words.

"Or maybe Kamisama?"

"What?"

A God. Takechi didn't know anything else to express about Kagutsu Genji.

Mina didn't mind his comments, but in a light tone she said:

"I was so scared, I was very strong, I don't know what he was thinking, but that person saved me."

Takechi couldn't understand the concept of being saved by Kagutsu Genji. Confused, he said what he thought.

"But Kagutsu Genji probably killed your lover."

Mina's eyes glared at Takechi with thick anger.

"The guy who sold me and made money, he's not my lover."

"......"

"Well that's it. I'm different. I had nothing else to do. I couldn't help it because I wanted to live, but…"

Taking her burned fist, Mina laughed as if she was tugging at her.

"Now I have 'this'. If I have 'this', no one can make fun of me. I won't let you use it. I'm a member of 'Purgatory'. That person did that for me."

Takechi involuntarily pinched his mouth.

"Kagutsu Genji didn't give you power to save yourself. It's just a whim, that's all."

Mina laughed, "Haha.", and she looked at Takechi in a silly way.

"I don't understand. That's why it's fine."

"What?"

"Whether he has money or not, is smart or bad, whether it helps or not it helps. Others would think that way. But that person doesn't do that, he hasn't seen it in the first place. What kinds of things are right and what no? I have learned it equally."

"Equality?"

"Yes, that."

With a tense index finger, she pointed at Takechi.

"For that person, we, you, everyone and him are all the same. He is no different from the ants and the waters that surround him. That is fine. In front of that person, they are all the same."

Mina took her burned right hand many times and opened it again, as if to confirm.

"We're not special. I've seen a lot of guys who died like they were exploding with the same power. We just happened to survive. I know that better than anyone. Without 'this', my life would be crap and shit."

"I don't think that's the case."

Mina had a soft, resigned smile.

"Haha. You're a good guy. But..."

She covered her face with her raised knees.

"You don't know anything about me, you should stop."

There was no word to return.

"Let's go, I already rested a lot."

Mina stood up and Takechi did the same.

"Ah…"

Then they started walking in that dark place again.

Mina's words contained part of the truth about "Purgatory".

Why was the number of people in "Purgatory" not exhausted, stripping all societies of their fangs and, therefore, being persecuted by all societies? Although the organization should have almost collapsed since Operation Kaume, the amount of black clothing had not decreased, instead it seemed that the damage spread and the amount had increased.

From the testimony of Mina and the captured clan member it was clear that Kagutsu Genji himself had a mysterious charisma. However, Takechi believed that that was not the only reason why "Purgatory" continued to exist.

Members of the "Purgatory" clan consider their lives worthless.

Society, property, life. They don't respect what most humans should focus on. They recognize that their lives are nothing more than a decaying young lady. This is why it is possible to wield the power granted by Kagutsu Genji to the fullest, and even if they destroy themselves, they can lay waste.

Only the moment that they burn life and shine, is valuable to them.

Currently, there is a stable moment. Under the reign of the "Golden King", the people sing prosperity. Still, there are those who find their life useless. As long as human beings are human, such things will never cease.

What if this was an unstable society in a more chaotic era? If Kagutsu Genji appeared there and empowered those who are casually dissatisfied. Imagining tens of thousands of members of "Purgatory", Takechi felt goose bumps on the back of his neck.

"And you?"

Mina's voice made Takechi recoil, who had been caught up in his thoughts.

"What?"

"Why did you go into 'Scepter 4'? Did your parents tell you to do that?"

Mina said that moaning. She may have remembered it when she got up and started walking. They are blue and black, and they have to kill each other when they reach the surface.

Takechi responded to the provocation with a calm voice.

"I am an orphan. I have no parents."

"......"

"I immediately joined the military after leaving the facility because I didn't have the money or the head to get into a good school. I am grateful to my parents for being strong."

Mina awkwardly averted her gaze and then said:

"Sorry."

He wanted to tell her that she didn't need to apologize, but what came out of his mouth was a different word.

"Do not worry."

Then there was silence again.

The tunnel was so long that they still couldn't see the exit. Even so, the night lights continued without being exhausted.

The light that was placed at regular intervals was hypnotic. As he walked and vaguely gazed at the light, Takechi was suddenly caught up in mere imagination. He and Mina were already dead when they fell into the well, and that channel was the Sanzu River, and now they were silently heading towards the afterlife.

If they were dead, at least they wouldn't have to kill each other.

Realizing that he was thinking that way, Takechi frowned.

"Is the same for me."

Suddenly, Mina opened her mouth.

"I don't have parents. One passed away, then the other went to the hospital and I was taken by a relative."

"......"

"They suck. I couldn't take it, ran away and got picked up by the guy I mentioned earlier."

Then Mina looked at Takechi and...

"I wonder if I should have put up with it. Or maybe I should have been born with a big body like you. So, by now, I could have been wearing blue clothes."

Several laments arose.

He shouldn't have helped Mina. He shouldn't have offered a truce. He shouldn't have asked her why she went into "Purgatory".

The blue clothes and the black clothes kill each other. They can kill each other because they don't know each other. The opponent's life can be killed because is just an icon of an obstacle to remove and an enemy to defeat.

Even knowing what kind of person she was and how she lived, it was unlikely that Takechi could take her life.

"Ah…"

Mina screamed. Then she realized that he was looking at the ground. When he raised his face, Takechi saw it.

The white light that illuminated the end of the tunnel.

It was the outside.

The two of them continued walking in silence. Stepping on the path that led to the exit. They both knew what was to come, but they would never stop.

Mina stopped.

"Mina?"

"No, sorry. Somehow."

She said that scratching her red hair.

"Yes, that's right. Let's go out."

"......"

"It sucks. I just wanted to get out as soon as possible. Now I hope it's a little later."

With a slight smile, Mina looked at Takechi.

"I ended up getting along well with you. I wish I could do it a bit more."

It was the same for both of them.

But they had to move on. As Takechi walked silently, Mina began to move her legs without object. The light outside gradually grew stronger and the two figures disappeared from the darkness. The blue clothes that go through and the black clothes that are darker than blood.

Takechi said, squinting at the growing light.

"I have to say one thing."

"Hmm?"

"I said the runners didn't have the key to unlock the ability suppressor, but that's a lie."

Mina's legs stopped again.

"It is hiding in a confusing place; in case it is stolen by the enemy. I am healthy. It's here."

Takechi put his hand on the collar of his uniform. From a cleverly hidden pocket, he pulled out the release key that was thick and long as his index finger, and showed it to Mina.

Mina shook her voice.

"You lied to me?"

"That's right. It was better for you to walk to the surface than to kill yourself there. I thought you'd be easier to control in that state. I'm a few steps higher in terms of physical disparity and ability."

Takechi looked at Mina. Mina was looking at Takechi. Her hair, shoulders, and eyes trembled with anger and hatred. No, it was more intense because they shared time together and she got to know him.

Takechi said, looking at her.

"But I cannot do it."

"Eh?"

"I heard your story."

Capture her and take her to headquarters just as she is. Then what will happen?

Mina will be sealed forever. She will be taken to a detention center dedicated to talented people and she will spend a lot of time there. For Mina, who found value only in power and said that her life could not be anywhere else, it would be more painful than death.

She was a criminal. Whatever the circumstances, sin must be punished. As a member of "Scepter 4", Takechi had never questioned that. Do chores. That should be so.

That should have been it.

"I can't kill you. I can't take power. I can't let you go. I'll regret it all the time if you sin again."

"So what will you do?"

Takechi laughed at Mina, who revealed her mistrust.

"Unlock you."

"......"

"Then you and I will return to the same state as before we fell into the well."

Mina swallowed hard. Takechi turned to the front and started walking.

"Then you can kill me without hesitation. Forget everything until now. We have never had the time to walk through the tunnel."

"You're stupid?!"

Mina screamed as if she couldn't bear it.

"It's not like that! It's not so easy to forget about the boy I care about! What you've done so far, if you take off the handcuffs, you won't be able to do it!"

Takechi didn't object and nodded silently.

"I don't think so. Maybe so."

The light outside already enveloped the entire body of the two. They could hear the sound of the rain. The cool air outside caressed their skin. Taking a deep breath, Takechi looked at the cuffs on his right hand.

"However, nothing can be done as it is now. If the situation is resolved, a change is needed. If I remove the key, it will change."

"You, up to that point...!"

Mina gritted her teeth and shook her voice.

"Do you want to kill me that much, Takechi?!"

Takechi slowly shook his head.

"No, Mina. I just want to correct my mistakes."

What they had talked about, helping each other, reveal their emotions. That was a mistake.

They shouldn't have done that. It couldn't be Takechi and Mina. They had to be blue and black. Otherwise, if they didn't think of the other person as a human being, they couldn't kill them.

Takechi inserted the key into the suppressor for different abilities. Mina screamed in fear.

"Stop! That's not true!"

Takechi slowly turned the key. Mina wreaked havoc and tried to annoy him, but Takechi, who was physically superior, forcibly advanced with his finger. Tears spilled from Mina's eyes, and she stomped on the ground many times, like a child with tantrums.

"This is because I will kill you! When the handcuffs are removed and my strength returns, I will kill you! I will burn you! I really will! Okay?"

"Yes."

Takechi smiled calmly and replied.

"That's right."

The ability suppressor came off and fell to the ground with a thud.

#k #k project #k fan clan #kagutsu genji #habari jin #old scepter 4 #purgatory #k stories #k war stories

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systlinsideblog · 3 years

Text

Part 8

The mansion of Saphrar of Turia was, in fact, very beautiful. It was also built like a fortress; the merchant was, it seemed, very paranoid in addition to being very rich. Quietly, Systlin approved, but right now it was an annoyance.

“We think we’ve picked off most of his archers,” one of the women said as Systlin arrived. Systlin looked the compound over, narrow eyed. There were bodies draped over a few of the crenelations around the enclosing wall, arrows sticking from them. “But we’ve not siege equipment strong enough to break open the gates.”

“Of course.” Systlin cracked her knuckles and rolled her neck again; fighting for the day, then, was not quite through. She eyed the gates; they were smaller, of course, than the gates of the city.

For good measure, she took out the whole front wall. A few hidden archers did fall screaming with the dust and gravel of the broken wall. As the dust cleared, she spotted the front door of the mansion proper and Broke that as well. A group of horrified mercenaries in the front garden watched the wall crumble, and then quite meekly laid their weapons down and knelt, raising their hands in surrender.

“Finally.” Systlin said. “Some people with a little sense. Bind them, and take them to the Ubara’s mansion.” A pause. “And after this, someone ought to show me to the Ubara’s mansion. I could use a bath, I think.”

That drew a laugh from the warriors around her. She drew her weapons, and led the women into the house.

They were met by some delighted slave girls; when they spotted Systlin they cried out in joy, and one rushed forward and took her by the hand.

“This way!” She tugged. “This way, Mistress! Our master is hiding, but I know where he is!”

Systlin followed. Followed through a hall, down some stairs, down more, her warriors close behind. House slaves parted before them, and some women peeled off to remove their collars and chains. A delighted murmur followed them down to the cellars.

They found Saphrar of Turia hiding in a hidden cubbyhole under a flagstone that moved on a cunning little mechanism. He cringed when Systlin pulled it open; she made a disgusted noised, bent down, grabbed him by the collar of his robe, and hauled him out through mean strength.

“And how well did that work for you?” She said shortly. “Hiding like a rat, behind hired swords?”

Even as she spoke, he twisted, and snapped. Even as she pulled away, his teeth sank into the back of her wrist. She buried her knee in his gut and he let loose, wheezing, but grinning through a mouthful of her blood.

“Well!” He croaked. “Quite well! Because where all of the warriors of the city failed, where the Wagon people failed, I’ve succeeded! Enjoy, she-sleen!”

“Fuck.” Systlin muttered. “Shit.” She slammed an arm out even as her warriors lunged forward. “ALIVE. Keep him alive.”

“So I can give you the antidote?” Saphrar crowed, gleeful. He had, Systlin saw, two false teeth shaped like fangs, gleaming gold. “I won’t! You can torture and kill me, I won’t!”

Systlin licked the blood welling from the marks his hidden fangs had left. There, a bitter note. She rolled it over her tongue as she’d been taught in the Iron Mountain so long ago, opening her mouth slightly to smell as well. Faint subtle scents and tastes, the combinations of them…

“Fuck,” she said again, picking notes out.

“Ubara!” Her warriors had Saphrar by the throat, and Dina was clutching at Systlin’s arm, frantic. “Osk venom! Some merchants use it, fangs like that are popular…a physician! Get a physician! Get the Ubar!

Several women left at a dead sprint.

Systlin gently but insistently shook Dina’s hand off, and she went for her belt pouch. Saphrar was still cackling, even through the arm around his neck.

“Fifteen thousand of the warrior caste, dead!” He said, gleeful. “A whole High Caste gone, failed, and a lowly merchant kills the beast!” He dissolved into more laughter.

“Ubara! If it spreads…”

“It already is.” She could feel the pain beginning as she fished a tiny packet, neatly wrapped in waxed rag paper and tied with thread, out of her pouch. She carefully undid the thread, and opened it to reveal a white powder. She licked the tip of a finger, dipped it into the powder, and then licked the powder off and made a terrible face as she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth; the stuff was terribly bitter as it dissolved through the thin tissues of the mouth. She re-wrapped the powder, and handed the packet to Dina.

“Ubara?” Dina’s voice was near panic.

“That packet,” Systlin said, deliberately calm. “Is my life, Dina. Give it to no one else. Do you understand? No one. This is my life, in this packet, and I’m trusting it to you.”

“I…” A hard swallow. “Yes, Ubara, but…”

“I am a Queen…you call it Ubara here, but I am a Queen on my own world as well, and have enemies. I trained with assassins before that. Listen, no, listen. In the Iron Mountain I have trained to tolerate many poisons and venoms better than most, and that should help, but I am going to be very sick very shortly. I know, I think, what this Osk venom is, or at least what makes it deadly. That,” a nod at the packet, “will counteract the effects enough to keep me alive while it runs its course. I will not be able to give it to myself. If my breathing looks like it is near stopping, give me as much as I just took, no more. What will stick to a single wetted fingertip. Too much will kill me. I do not need to swallow. Place it under my tongue, rub it on my gums, inside my nose. Do you understand?”

Dina was white. All her women were white. But Dina nodded, once, her lips thin and trembling and terror written all over her face.

“Good.” Systlin took a deep breath; sure enough, it was more difficult than it had been minutes ago. “And keep him alive.” She nodded at Saphrar. “I want to see his face when I don’t die.” A beat. “If I do die, give him to Foicatch.”

“Ubara.” Dina’s voice was thin. “Yes.”

“Good.” Systlin said, and then swayed, and quickly sat heavily down on a crate. She could feel the cold sweat breaking out; she doubted that most of her warrior women had seen her sweat before. She was, after all, a fire witch, and the hottest of days was no bother to her.

It was good, though. The symptoms were telling her that she’d been right, and even as her breathing grew more labored she felt the tingling rush of the compounds distilled into the rescue powder hit. Breathing eased slightly. The dizziness did not. There was a roaring in her ears, and vision blurred. She pitched to the side, and hands caught her.

The room swam. Things were happening around her very rapidly; she could hear them, but picking out meaning would have taken too much concentration. Her fingers were tingling, and her wrist was burning. Her breaths came hard and labored, but she kept breathing.

A familiar face, a familiar voice. Foicatch, sounding near panic. She tried to raise a hand to his face, but her limbs weren’t responding. She was lifted onto something…a stretcher?...and moved.

Time passing. Movement; she was being carried somewhere. Nausea, and her vision was just a blur of colors. Movement stopped; she was laid on something soft. Time passing. Hands on her, a prick of pain in her arm, more time passing. Her breaths started to rasp and struggle, and she wondered…but there! The bitterness of the rescue powder in her mouth, and soon breathing eased again. Not by too much, but enough for her to keep forcing air in and out. People speaking, hurried and frantic. Someone else, calmer. She felt hands easing away armor and boots and weapons. She wanted to protest, but hadn’t the strength.

A warm, wet cloth. Someone was cleaning away mud and blood. She knew the hands. Foicatch. Someone else. A woman? Of course a woman…

Sura hadn’t wanted her to go to the Iron Mountain. Systlin, with her father’s murder hanging before her eyes, had disregarded Sura’s advice for the first time, and gone anyway. The Master of Knives had welcomed her, tried to bend her to his will like he’d bent others. His gift for pushing at minds was rare, and terrible, as terrible as Breaking in its own way. She’d managed to shunt aside his power with her own, undoing it before it could bend her to him. She’d pretended that it had taken, and he’d set her to train.

What a prize, she’d heard him say once. A Breaker, at my feet. What a Hand I shall make of you. The world will tremble.

She remembered his blood on her hands, after she’d slit his throat at last. You took the contract for my father, she’d told him, as he bled out on the floor. You sent your Hand. That’s why I came, to kill his killers…

The bitterness of rescue powder in her mouth, again. Her face was numb, and her hands still tingled. Her head was pounding like a drum.

Snake venom in vials, lined up. Tasting each, carefully, picking out what snake it was from by taste and scent alone and reciting how it killed. She’d drunk snake wine before, but tasting the pure venom was another thing entirely…

Bitterness in her mouth. Voices. Her hand was in someone else’s; she would have known Foicatch if she were dead. His voice, worried. She was lying on something soft.

She’d been good at it, though. It had interested her. She’d memorized them, and the plant poisons, and the mineral. She’d memorized which of the little packets they all carried for emergencies could help the body fight each…

Bitter in her mouth. She blinked, slow, and thought that things might be a little more in focus. Her breaths were still coming harsh and difficult, but she tried to move her hands and her fingers twitched. She would have smiled, were her face not still numb.

The weeks of terrible sickness, as each of the poisons was administered in turn, in gradually increasing doses. They each were expected to endure a lethal dose of each poison in time. She’d passed that test, as the others, but she remembered little of it. Just pain, sickness, heaving though her stomach was empty. A headache like her head was pressed in a vice, that had lasted days.

Bitter in her mouth. She could feel her hands again, and this time another dose didn’t come, because her breath, instead of stuttering and slowing, came stronger. Her vision cleared, slowly, and her headache receded. She lay there, eyes closed, concentrating on her breath, until at last she did not have to fight for it any longer. It took what felt like hours.

She opened her eyes.

She was in an enormous bedroom, on a bed. She was nearly naked under the blankets, save for a light wrap robe someone had found. She was clean. Her hair had been combed and washed and re-braided. Ice and her knife and her armor sat next to her; they’d been cleaned as well.

Foicatch was sitting next to her, slumped back in exhaustion in a chair. He’d at least consented to remove his armor; he was wearing a long tunic that was too tight across his shoulders, and had at least scrubbed a wet cloth over his body and through his hair. Dina sat on the floor before the fire, distractedly cleaning her already spotless knife. As Systlin moved, Foicatch’s eyes shot open, and he sat up. The relief in his eyes was almost painful.

“Thank the Lady’s mercy.” He said, quietly and with feeling, and kissed the back of her hand. “You scared me.”

“When we see Sura next,” Systlin said, her voice still raspy from a dry throat. “I’m going to tell her that I was right about going through the training and not just dragging the whole bloody mountain down on his head. How long…”

A watery sort of chuckle. “Oh, she’ll hate it. Two days. Rumors are running wild, but everything’s under control.”

Dina approached warily, and very carefully set the tightly wrapped packet of powder on the bed beside her.

“She wouldn’t give it up even to me.” Foicatch said.

“She was right not to. If you gave me a dose the size of your fingertip, it would have been enough to kill me. Dina’s got smaller hands.” She hauled herself up into a sitting position. Her wrist still hurt, and was still red and swollen, but the worst of it was past.

“You told me it was your life.” Dina whispered.

“It was.” Systlin took it carefully, and set it on top of her neatly piled gear. “I owe you my life, Dina of Turia. If there is anything in my power to give, it’s yours.”

Dina trembled a little, and Systlin realized that she was crying silently. She realized suddenly what it must have been for Dina, for all of her people here, to see her fall. To see hope itself lying like death on a bed, struggling for each breath. To feel the prospect of chains looming again…

No. She’d taught them enough. Even without her now, she did not think any of the slaves she’d freed would ever be forced into them again. She’d started enough; it might take long, without her, but she’d planted the seeds. She saw suddenly, in a dizzying rush, warriors from the plains spreading out, bringing low the fighting men and freeing the slaves from one city-state after another, a steady march clear across Gor, and all done through sweat and courage and blood alone.

Centuries, it might take. But it would have happened, even had she died in this bed.

Though, as she thought on it, she wondered what would happen, should her body expire. And then she realized, quite suddenly, that she’d thought of them as her people.

You already know the answer there, sister. The whisper in her mind was familiar by now. You cannot kill a goddess of death with poison.

“Ubara sana,” Dina said quietly. “There is nothing I would ask that you have not already given me. You owe me nothing; you already gave me back my life.”

“The offer stands.” Systlin said. “If ever there is something in my power to give you, say the word and it is yours.”

Dina gave her a look that was half frightened, half wondering, and quite suddenly she leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth. Systlin froze in surprise, and Dina pulled back as if burned, nearly cringing in a way she’d not done in more than a year.

“I’m sorry!” She gasped, and there were more tears streaming down her face now. Systlin stared, almost bemused; that she hadn’t seen it before was astounding, really. “I’m sorry! Ubar…”

Foicatch was also staring in a rather bemused way. “Well,” he said. “It’s not like I can fault you in your tastes.”

“Dina?” Systlin’s throat was as dry as sand already, and still sore, and it sounded like a croak more than a voice. “I…sorry, water…”

Foicatch picked a cup up from the table beside the bed. A gesture, and water appeared as he pulled moisture out of the air. It trickled into the cup, and she drank greedily.

“You should have said something.” She said at last, handing the wooden cup back. Foicatch filled it again.

Dina was still looking faintly terrified, as if she’d overstepped somehow. “I…but…” she gestured weakly at Foicatch.

“You’d not be the first woman in her bed.” Foicatch shrugged, handing the cup back to Systlin and watching as she drained it as well. “I’ve had other men and women in mine as well.”

“He’s terrible taste in men.” Systlin narrowed her eyes. “Downright awful. That miserable little Cabot man? Really?”

“He’s attractive. And it’s been amusing to watch him panic over things.” He filled the cup a third time. “Sucks a mean cock, once he finally works past all the nonsense about shame and his manliness, but then goes maudlin and sulks for a week. Still, a fun enough diversion.”

“Sounds dreadful. This is what I mean. Awful taste in men.”

“I don’t…” Dina looked slightly faint. “I don’t understand.”

Foicatch shrugged. “Few people do, to be fair.”

“What it means, is that this,” Systlin caught Dina’s hand and pulled her back. She watched the other woman’s lovely face slowly go from confusion to hope to disbelief as she kissed the inside of one of Dina’s wrists. “Will not anger him. The fact that he takes other lovers now and then does not anger me. Though,” She sat up too fast, and her head was spinning again. She grimaced and lay back again. “It may have to wait.”

“Ubara sana,” Dina said, even more faintly. “I think that I can wait.”

“Good.” Systlin took a breath, and hauled herself upright again. Her head spun still; she gritted her teeth and rode it out, and the lingering nausea. “For now, I need clothes.”

“Ubara!”

“I need to be seen.” Systlin said simply, and got her feet under her. Foicatch offered an arm; she leaned on it. “I’m all right, Dina. I’m a tough bitch to kill.”

“I…”

The door opened then, and a woman in green robes swept in. She had olive skin and very black hair, braided and pinned up in a coil on top of her head. She carried a case, and when she saw Systlin on her feet her face lightened from its cool professionalism.

“Oh, excellent.” She said. “You’re back with us.”

“This is Zephra.” Foicatch said. “A physician. She’s been checking on you. Dina?”

“Of course.” Dina hurried out.

“You really shouldn’t be on your feet.” The woman said, severely. Systlin was reminded instantly of Myssa, the royal True Healer and Physik. “Though I suppose you must be seen as soon as possible. Sit for a moment.”

Systlin did. It never did any good to argue with physicians or healers. Zephra laid a hand on her forehead, checked her pulse, listened to her breathing, and at last made a sound of approval. She drew a stylus and pad out of her bag, and began making notes.

“You’ll live.” She said. “That powder of yours is ingenious; I managed to get a tiny bit from your devoted guard to analyze. It is, in truth, very similar to what I would have given you, and I did not wish to cause an interaction with what you had already taken, so I thought it best to leave your girl to it. If it had truly come to it, I did have an apparatus ready to breathe for you.” She nodded to the corner; Systlin looked, and saw a great cylinder of glass and copper and leather. “But you did not react so strongly to the Osk venom as most would. I am glad to see you recovering.” She examined Systlin thoughtfully, tapping the stylus against her lips. “You’ve survived other things that you should not have, judging from your scars.”

Systlin touched the scar under her right breast with a wince. A spear had transfixed her there once, long ago, piercing clean through. “True enough.”

“The physicians of your world are skilled indeed, if they can mend such injuries.” Zephra said bluntly. “I could not do it. Neither could a doctor of Earth.”

“True-healers.” Foicatch said. “They can repair flesh with a touch, as I can command water and Systlin can command fire and Break.”

Zephra’s eyebrows rose. “That,” she said softly. “Would be a gift worth having.”

“It’s rare. Those who have it are held in high regard.”

“I was lucky.” Systlin touched the scar again. “It was a spear. I should have died there, but there was a True-Healer nearby. I got very lucky.”

Foicatch’s hand tightened on her shoulder for a moment.

“Well.” Zephra hummed quietly. “I suspect that this will only add to the growing legends that are being spread around. Before you arrived at the city, we had heard that you were a terrible spirit who ate the flesh of men.” A spark of humor in her dark eyes.

Systlin made a face. “Only half true.”

A laugh. “I have never seen,” she said. “Men so frightened as they are now. Not all of them, of course; there are good ones to be found.” She tapped her stylus against her lips again. “It does my heart good.” The smile turned bitter. “If you’ll have my service, Ubara, I would give it, wherever you go.”

Foicatch and Systlin both looked at her oddly.

“Ah, yes. You likely do not know…I am a free woman, of a high caste. I was able to study, and am able to ply my trade. Most free women are not allowed such, did you know? A free woman of the metalworker caste does not work at the forge; a woman of the scribe caste may be illiterate.” The smile grew more bitter still. “Our options are to inherit wealth to live well, or to Companion a man of means and bear his children. I was lucky, Ubara Sana, in that I showed aptitude as a physician and was accepted into the caste. Even still, I was not allowed to do the work I studied and trained for. Not until I had Companioned a man of the physician caste and borne him two children.”

Systlin stared. Foicatch said, flatly, “What.”

“My daughters,” Zaphra continued, “Are dear to me. But I did not renew my Companionship with their father, and had I a choice I would not have taken their father to bed or borne them. I wished only to work as I had trained to do. I am what is called ‘frigid’ by the men of Gor; I have never felt desire for anyone. Unlike what many suppose, this is not an affliction. Many people are born thus, and forced to conceal it. My male colleagues scoff at the idea, and insist that it is an aberration that could be remedied by a proper man, and perhaps some slave chains.” She put her stylus and pad away, businesslike. “As if the only ones born thus are women. Free women of Gor are not free, not truly, even if a collar is never set on us. I think that with you that may change, and my daughters may taste freedom in truth. It is at the least a better chance than any we’ve had before.”

“Ah.” Systlin tested her balance again; it was better. She gently eased off of leaning on Foicatch, even as Dina reappeared with robes. “I see.”

“I thought you might, given what I had heard of you from your women.”

“If you wish it, I accept your offer.” Systlin let Dina help her shrug into the robes. The other woman also wrapped Systlin’s braid around her head like a crown and deftly pinned it into place.

“I am honored, Ubara sana.” Zaphra inclined her head.

“Right.” Systlin took up her sword belt, and buckled it into place over her silken robes. “Dina, where are the warriors?”

“Many are in the camp. More have taken over the guard houses. Many have bedded down on the lower floors of this mansion.” Dina looked at her. “They’re taking turns here, because not all of us could fit in the Ubara’s mansion. Your honor guard stays, of course, but the rest have set up rotating shifts, so that they could all guard you for a time.”

Systlin blinked, and felt her throat tighten and heat in her eyes. “Have they.”

“I’ve told you many times.” Foicatch said, softly. “You’ve never had any idea what it’s like, from the outside.”

“You are the Whip-Burner.” Dina said, as if it were simple and obvious. “The Chain-Striker. They’ve been burning slave couches in bonfires for two days, in your name. The courts have already been set up, and the judging has already begun. Those sentenced to die are being burnt on the couches they chained us to.”

Systlin closed her eyes, and that other power she did not like to think of or acknowledge stirred. And for a moment she could taste it on the air, like honeyed wine. Justice.

For a moment, just a moment, she could feel rather than hear twenty thousand mentions of her name, and it ran through her like ice and fire at once.

“Good.” She managed. “Well done.”

“The next time you wonder why any of us,” Systlin knew Foicatch was not talking about the people of Gor, but of their true home. “Are willing to follow you to the death, I’m reminding you of this.”

“Smug prick,” she muttered, because the last time she’d said that aloud and he’d looked at her funny and told her that she’d earned it, she’d laughed.

“Yes.” He agreed easily. “Now, here.”

He opened the drawer on the bedside table, and drew out a golden hairpin. At the top glimmered a red stone. Systlin took it, and looked; it was a star ruby, larger than her thumbnail. She looked up at him, stunned, and he smiled.

“There’s a great deal of wealth in the vaults of the Ubara of Turia.” He said. “Aside from that in the chests of the Ubara Sana of the plains. I set a few people to combing through with orders as to what to find.”

He took it back and slid it into place in her hair, so that the ruby gleamed just above the center of her forehead. “It might not be the Fallen’s Blood, but I thought it fitting.”

“I take it back. You’re not a prick.”

“Still smug?”

“Yes, but I like that about you.” She touched the stone to make sure it was secure. “Come now. People need to know I’m not dead.”

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gerrycoco · 3 years

Text

Here are chapter 4 and 5 of the TOL fanfic I’m writing based on @nwarrior777 comic. I’d been meaning to post chapter 4 a while back but hadn’t been sure where my cut off was between these two chapters until I finished them today.

Hope you enjoy and more should be coming soon hopefully!

You can also read this fic on ao3

Chapter 4

The weeks ticked away slowly but surely at the Academy, summer turning into fall and steadily veering into winter. I continued to have the best of fun with Tamara doing all sorts of shenanigans.

With the end of October came Halloween where she snuck us out to go trick or treating when Halloween came around. As we finished up grabbing as much candy as we could, I only half noticed how cold the weather was becoming.

A few weeks later there came the first snowfall, which everyone was super excited about. After a particularly big snowfall most of the residents of the Academy, myself and Tamara included, found ourselves in the outdoor courtyard making snowmen.

Given my nature of not being very good at anything, my own attempts at making a snowman were quite subpar. I could see others not far away snickering among themselves, probably whispering about how ironic it was that someone with ice powers was so bad at stuff involving snow.

I was rather preoccupied by my increasing discomfort at being in the cold to really notice them. Tamara, however, glared in their direction as she joined me after reappearing from having gone to get some extra accessories for our snowmen. "Don't listen to them, Demian," she said, "this isn't a competition or anything, the whole point is just to have fun."

"Yeah I know," I replied, trying to blow on my hands to get them warmer, which only made things worse as with my powers all I did was blow frost over my fingers. It was then that I realized that I didn't have to go about making a snowman the old fashion way. Stretching my hands out in front of me me I tried summoning the snow around me to form into a shape.

"Demian maybe that isn't a good idea," Tamara said, her voice filled with concern, "the doctors told you to be careful about how long you spend in the snow and you already look really cold. I think we should go back inside."

"Hang on, just give me a minute," I managed to reply despite my teeth chattering loudly due to how cold I was. A small crowd of others had come by to watch curiously and I was not about to give them another reason to tease me. Within moments I'd accumulated a pile of snow that I was twisting and bending with frost from my own hands. I’d stopped shivering by then so I ignored how painfully cold I was feeling and concentrated to finish what I was doing.

Soon I had made a full sized snowman, but this time shaped like an actual human. "Tada," I said, with difficulty, now that my whole face felt frozen, "say hello to snow Tamara!" The others all gasped as they came closer to inspect the near perfect snow and ice replica of my friend.

Tamara herself however looked at me, a very stern expression on her face as she grabbed my hand and teleported us inside. Once she was done she dropped my hand and glared at me, looking quite mad. "What were you thinking?! That was dangerous!" she exclaimed loudly.

"What do you mean?" I meant to ask, surprised by how angry she looked. I never got the chance to do so though as everything suddenly went dark.

***********************************************

"You got him here just in time so thankfully he's going to be alright," I heard an unknown voice say.

I groaned as I tried to stir, finding that my whole body was tingling from the sensation of me slowly defrosting. With difficulty I managed to open my eyes, to see that I was in the back room of the infirmary.

"What, what happened?" I asked, the words slightly slurred as my mouth and tongue still hadn't regained full sensation.

"You did something really stupid is what happened," Tamara spat out, angrily wiping tears from her eyes. She then ran out of the room, leaving me alone with who I now saw was a nurse.

“Tamara wait!” I called out. I tried to sit up so I could go after her but realized I was still too numb to do so.

“Woah take it easy there,” the nurse said, putting a hand on my shoulder to prevent me from trying again. “You need to stay lying down for a while longer, your body likely can’t tolerate going into an upright position just yet,” he explained to me. “Right now you need to rest. The doctor should be here shortly to check up on you to make sure you’re doing alright.”

I sighed unhappily but nodded in resignation. The image of Tamara’s face was burnt into my mind as I replayed the scene again over and over again. She had looked so scared and hurt, I felt terrible for putting her through what I imagined was a rather frightening experience.

My wallowing was interrupted by the arrival of the doctor, who I saw was the same I had met when first arriving at the Academy. “We meet again young man,” he said, though he clearly was far from delighted to be seeing me at the present. “That was a very foolish thing you did back there.”

“Yeah I know…” I replied, feeling the guilt weigh on my chest. Added to the fact that I fail at basically everything, I’ve also never exactly been known for being a particularly smart person. Even back at home, my family would usually avoid leaving me alone for extended periods of time.

“It’s a good thing your friend was there and that she was able to teleport you back inside when she did,” the doctor went on, his brows creasing into a concerned frown. He looked over at the monitor I’d been hooked up to and then picked up the chart on my bedside to examine it as well. “Thankfully you hadn’t gone far beyond moderate hypothermia and so your loss of consciousness was likely a form of rewarming shock.”

“I… I didn’t realize it had gotten that bad..” I said, feeling quite scared myself now that the reality of what had just happened was sinking in. “I wasn’t even shivering at the end.”

“Well that’s because shivering is only associated with the milder forms of hypothermia,” the doctor explained, putting the chart down and pulling out a small flashlight from his pocket. He then proceeded to point it in front of each eye and had me follow the beam with my gaze. “We already knew that you would be more sensitive to cold, but it appears now that because of your powers you’ve gone from warm blooded to cold blooded, no pun intended.”

“You mean, like a lizard?” I asked, my brain feeling a bit fuzzy as I tried to process what the doctor was telling me while spots danced in my vision from having the flashlight directed at my eyes.

“Yes precisely, or almost anyway,” the doctor replied, “cold-blooded creatures can’t internally cool themselves off while you have no problem with that. However, like them, you appear to have difficulty with generating sufficient body heat without some external help, which would explain why you progressed so quickly into an increasing hypothermic state.”

I simply blinked at him in response, his sciency explanations were too much for my thawing brain to understand. He appeared to see the look of overall confusion in my eyes and he gave me a small half-smile as he put the flashlight away in his pocket.

“The point is,” he went on, “from now on you will have to take extra special care to make sure you only spend short periods of time in cold environments.”

********************************************* I took the doctor’s word very seriously once I was allowed to leave the infirmary. Not only did I completely avoid going outside, I also made sure to always have an extra warm sweater as well as a hoodie wherever I went. While it might have been overkill, I didn’t want to risk anything happening again.

Mostly I kept to myself as the others gave me looks whenever I was in the common areas or the cafeteria. They had either been there to see me almost freeze to death or had heard about it as gossip spread rapidly around the Academy. I therefore spent the next few days in my room waiting for something new to happen so they wouldn’t be focused on me anymore. Time passed slowly though as I spent it alone seeing Tamara and I hadn’t spoken since the incident.

While normally she was constantly popping into my room to hang out, almost a week went by without me seeing her at all. She had obviously been very upset by my actions and I figured she was still mad at me about it. I really wanted to go and apologize, but, because of her teleportation powers, Tamara was very good at making sure she wasn’t able to be found if she didn’t want to be.

After a few days I decided it had gone on for long enough and decided to park myself outside her room. I figured if I stayed there at one point she’d have no choice but to talk to me. There was always the risk of her teleporting in and out of her room without ever having to use the door, but Tamara could usually only teleport so many times in a day before it started draining her too much and she risked ending up in the wrong place.

I decided then to go and wait outside her bedroom door after dinner time since she was more likely to be tired then and therefore less likely to use her powers to disappear on me. I’d been sitting there for a while, just scrolling on my phone as I waited, when I finally saw her walking down the hallway towards her room. She hadn’t noticed me yet, her head bent and gaze stuck around her shoes, looking about as miserable as I had been feeling.

“Tamara!” I called out, popping her out of her thoughts as her head snapped up at the sound of my voice. At this point she was about ten steps away from her door and I could see in her eyes that she was weighing whether it was worth it to try teleporting past me.

I stood up quickly and walked the distance between us, putting my hand on her arm. “Tamara, please,” I pleaded, “can we talk? I’d really like to apologize…”

She grimaced for a moment then let out a sigh. “Fine,” she replied, removing my hand and going to her bedroom door. I followed closely as she opened it, hoping that she wouldn’t dash in just to slam the door in my face. Instead she held the door open and gestured for me to come inside.

I went and sat down on the chair by the desk while Tamara shut the door before going to sit on the end of her bed. She glanced quickly in my direction before looking away and crossing her arms, visibly still quite upset with me.

I’d spent the time waiting outside her room going through how best to apologize to her, but in that moment all scenarios vanished from my mind as we sat in silence while I tried to figure out the best way to start. “So… I guess I’ll just start off by saying that I’m aware that what I did was really stupid and dangerous and I’m sorry for doing that to you…”

Tamara was silent for a beat before turning to look at me. “What were you even thinking doing that?” she interrogated. “Even without using your powers you’re more at risk when it’s cold, but with what you did you just made it 10 times worse! So what, you just couldn’t help but show off, right?”

I stared at her, surprised for a moment. It hadn’t occurred to me that by using my powers I’d put myself in even greater danger, although thinking about it now it did make sense. “No I wasn’t trying to show off, at least I don’t think so…” I replied, feeling quite uneasy. “I was failing at making a snowman the normal way just like I fail with everything else and then I remembered I have ice powers so, like, why not use the one thing I’m good at that’s actually relevant to the situation for once.”

“You’re telling me you made a snow person that looked just like me and it wasn’t just so you could look good in front of the others after they had made fun of you?” Tamara retorted, looking rather skeptical.

“I mean, maybe a tiny bit,” I admitted, “but mostly I did it because I thought it would make you smile. You’re always doing nice things for me so I just wanted to be able to do something nice for you too for once.”

“R-really?” Tamara asked, her tone now very different.

“Yeah, I just thought it would be funny for you to have a snow twin,” I said, letting out a nervous chuckle.

At this Tamara finally gave me a small smile before it fell away and she suddenly looked quite sad. “I guess I thought you had ignored my warning because you were too busy trying to impress the others. And maybe deep down a part of me was also scared that if it worked you were going to find new friends and wouldn’t want to hang out with me anymore…”

“What? Tamara no of course not…” I replied, getting up from the chair and going to sit down next to her on the bed. “You’re my best friend Tamara, you’re my only friend really. You’re also the reason nothing worse happened since you pretty much saved my life by teleporting us back inside when you did.”

“Damn right I did,” Tamara retorted with a smirk. “I hope you learned your lesson because I might not always be there to save your butt.”

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t plan on making the same mistake again,” I laughed. Tamara gave me a real smile this time and leaned over to hug me tightly.

“Okay enough talk about snow and ice now, how about we go get some hot cocoa?” I suggested.

“Good idea,” Tamara replied before teleporting us out of her room.

Chapter 5

While I was quite happy to be hanging out with Tamara once again, our time together afterwards was somewhat short lived. Her one year at the Academy was coming to an end and shortly before Christmas she returned home to her family. Thankfully, during the holidays, the Academy made special allowances where they hosted an annual Christmas party and other fun events for family and friends. With this I was kept well occupied up until New Years after which things went back to normal, leaving me to find myself mostly alone once again.

I was able to see my family during visiting weeks of course, but I still wasn’t having much luck in finding any other friends now that Tamara was gone. No one really cared about me when I wasn’t using my powers and ever since my last incident I’d basically decided against doing anything ice related unless it was actually useful, which in the dead of winter it really wasn’t.

Although my own one year milestone was still a good few months away, I figured I could start looking at different job possibilities to look forward to once I was able to return home. It was better than dying of boredom in the meantime. After all, the Academy had a department set up for the exact purpose of counseling and preparing those who wished to find themselves jobs once their time was up.

This didn’t end up being the most successful endeavor however. While the counselors were very nice and tried to look at different options with me, they had a hard time finding anything that would be a good fit. I’m not sure what I was expecting really, since by being not so great at basically everything I didn’t exactly have very many employable skills. The other issue is that usually the main solution is to try to find something that works with a person’s specific powers. In my case though, this didn’t pan out much since all the actual real jobs that would hire someone with ice powers involved working in very cold environments, and I was not going to make that same mistake twice.

“Unfortunately the only other option I can find is volunteer work,” Lenny, the counselor who had been assigned my case, informed me. “That means you wouldn’t be paid, but it would still be something if ever you’re interested.”

I left the employment center feeling quite disappointed as I headed towards the cafeteria. It was family visiting day and my mom would be arriving soon. Multiple parents and other family members had already started arriving as I entered the cafeteria and sat down at a table while I waited. A few minutes later I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Hi mom,” I said, doing my best to smile as I turned to hug her before she sat down next to me.

“What’s wrong honey?” my mom asked directly. “Something is up, I can tell.”

I blinked with surprise at this. I’d forgotten how perceptive my mom could be. “I… well…” I started, going on to explain to her my less than promising visit with the employment department. “So I might not be able to get an actual job once I’m done here…” I added, looking down at my hands, blinking my eyes madly as I tried not to cry.

“I see,” my mother replied. She reached over to take one of my hands in her own and gave it a tight squeeze. I looked up at her to see her smiling warmly at me. “Demian, just remember that no matter what happens, whether you manage to find a job or not, you will always have a place at home waiting for you,” she said tenderly as her free hand went to wipe away a tear that had slid down my cheek.

I gave her a watery smile as I leaned in to hug her tightly. “Thank you mom, I love you,” I said, sniffling softly.

“I love you too sweetheart,” my mother replied, hugging me back just as tightly. “Always have and always will.

****************************************

After the visit with my mother I felt somewhat better about my future beyond the Academy. Though I still didn’t exactly know how I would ever manage to find a job, I also knew that I couldn’t give up trying.

My mood was also greatly improved by Tamara’s sudden and unexpected return to the Academy mid February. She’d had an unfortunate mishap with her powers, although she hadn’t really wanted to talk about it much upon her return. Bottom line was that she needed to be monitored at the Academy for another year now because of it. While I found that extremely unfortunate for her, I was also, rather selfishly, quite happy to have her back around.

It was only about a month later that she was finally willing to explain to me what had happened. Apparently when she had gone back home she had bumped into a former partner she had been dating not long before she had arrived at the Academy. They stayed in contact for the first little while after she had discovered her powers, however the long distance slowly became a strain on their relationship.

“At that point we agreed it was best to take a break and reconnect once I was able to go back home after my year was up,” Tamara explained to me.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about this?” I asked, feeling surprised and almost a bit hurt that I’d never heard about this before.

“I guess I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high just in case it didn’t work out,” she replied. “In the end that’s what happened because when I finally saw them again they were dating someone else…”

“Oh Tamara… I’m so sorry…” I said, gently putting my hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she said, though she had a sad look in her eye. “It was for the best really, I don’t think we would’ve lasted very long in the end. But this happened on Valentine's Day of all days so needless to say I wasn’t feeling great after that. After seeing them together with their new partner I almost ran home, trying not to cry. I tried to teleport back but instead of my room I somehow ended up on Mars.”

“Mars?! You mean, like the planet?” I asked, shocked and confused.

“Yep,” Tamara replied. “Luckily I quickly teleported back to Earth, first in Antarctica and then at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It took a few tries but I finally made it home before coming back here and begging them to put me on blockators. I felt like I was going insane.”

“Wow that’s crazy,” I said, not sure what else to say at this point.

“Yeah…” Tamara acquiesced, her gaze downcast. “I’ve never really been lucky with dating anyway so I guess it’s not really all that surprising. I am a bit much after all and I’m not really dating material…”

“Absolutely not!” I protested, offended that my friend could think so low of herself. “You are funny and adorable and super thoughtful and anyone would be lucky to date you!” I exclaimed, tapping the table with insistence with every new point I added.

Tamara laughed at my display, most of the sadness now gone from her eyes. “Thank you, I really needed that,” she giggled. “But that makes me think, what about you? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned anything about dating either.”

“Oh,” I replied meekly, now that I was being put on the spot. “I haven’t ever really dated to be honest…”

“Really? Like you’ve never had a girlfriend… or a boyfriend?” Tamara asked, leaving the door open for me to fill in the blank.

I could feel myself blushing at this, feeling a bit embarrassed about the topic. “I, uh… I guess I’m not totally sure where I stand in terms of sexuality… it’s never felt super clear for me and I haven’t really had the chance to figure it out for myself quite yet.”

“That’s okay then,” Tamara said, smiling kindly. “There’s no rush for you to find an answer or anything. And if ever you do figure it out and feel like dating whoever it is will also be lucky to be with someone like you.”

“Thanks Tamara,” I said, smiling back at her.

“Just for the record, you’re great and everything, but you’re not my type dude,” Tamara stated matter of factly. We looked at each other seriously for a moment before both bursting into laughter so hard we were in tears.

**************************** Before I knew it there was only one month left before I was to leave the Academy. Poor Lenny was still doing his best to try and find me a job but unless I miraculously developed an actual useful workskill there was only so much he could do.

Of course I was allowed to stay on at the Academy once my time was up in order to volunteer and help with the newcomers. I would be allowed to room and board there by doing so but it wasn’t an actual job or anything and that wasn’t something that actually paid. Because of the laws and regulations put in place for awakened, there needed to remain a place for them to stay if they weren’t able to return to society for one reason or another. To avoid people taking advantage of that and using it as an easy way out to not have to work, the Academy stipulated that they would not pay permanent/long term residents. Instead it was a barter type system where those who wished to stay had to contribute in some form or fashion according to their powers or abilities.

Some people, both within and outside the Academy, still saw it as a lazy option while others saw it as the epitome of despair. I thought both those views were rather extreme and unfair. However, I also didn’t want to stay at the Academy forever. I wasn’t ready to believe that there was truly nothing out there for me, not yet at least. The only thing that made me feel better was knowing that Tamara was also still going to be around for a good few more months even if I did wind up having to stay at the Academy for longer.

There was also the option of going back home to my parents for a while before coming back to stay at the Academy. That way I could stay with them for a bit and then move back into the Academy the next time I would be coming in for my regular post one year check in to make sure my powers were still stable. As time went on I figured I would go with that option since I hadn't gone home in nearly a year and had mainly seen my parents during visits. That way I would get to spend some time with the rest of my family but also come back to be with Tamara for the time she had left at the Academy.

I was starting to pack my stuff when I heard an unexpected knock at my door. I was confused as to who it could be, since Tamara usually just let herself in at this point. Putting down the shirt I’d been trying to fold I went to open the door, surprised to see Lenny standing there. “Lenny, what are you doing here?”

“Hi Demian,” Lenny greeted me, “I know you’ve been planning on going home soon but I have some interesting news for you that might just change your mind…”

#temperature of love #tol #fanfic #pov fanfic #ao3

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toosicktoocare · 4 years

Note

so I Loved that ficlet with grogu calling friends when mando is sic and passed out, and immediately I imagined the same thing but What If,,, Grogu just, freaking, force calls Luke, and Luke recuses them? Idk just fun to think about great prompt and great work!

I’m going to twist this prompt just a little, but hi, yes, I love it a lot! Just let me have Luke and Din interactions, okay?

Alone.

It’s familiar and was once quietly normal, but now it’s cold and hollow, and Din’s starting to wonder if there’s still a man underneath his armor, of if he’s broken down to an empty husk.

He could have stayed with Cara and Greef; he could have travelled with Boba, but, in a desperate attempt to find any semblance of dated normalcy, he left on his own. His task, one he willingly gave to himself, was fulfilled. He delivered Grogu over to a Jedi, and now, he’s grasping frayed strings to get back to his life before the child.

He throws himself into work, stalking off on his own to fetch bounties for coin that once would brought a smile coated in saisfaction to his lips, but he can’t find the same enegry now. However, he still does it because he feels that’s what he’s supposed to do, but he can’t recapture his rhythm. And, without the Crest, he’s taken to hitching rides and travelling by foot.

Everything’s taking longer without consistent transportation, leaving him with more time in his head, guard down. He still keeps his helmet on, still abides by the way of the Mandalore, even though he knows he can no longer shoulder that responsibility as he’s gone against his faith. He doesn’t regret it; though, he tried to at first.

The days following Grogu’s departure, Din cursed himself endlessly for displaying such uncontrolled vulnerability, but though his mind was always running in a tight, hot circle of shame, at the end of each day, it always died down to a warm glow. Seeing Grogu’s eyes for the first time with his own, not through the lens of his visor, is something he knows he’ll hold so tightly to his heart that it will continuously toe the line of painful.

It’s almost funny, he thinks, how he once considered his heart as nothing more than a necessary organ, but now he knows just how capable it is of feeling, of directing his entire being.

He shakes his head, far too gone in his mind, until his surroundings build back into his present vision. He blinks slowly, neck craning up the mountain only a mile’s walk in front of him. He knew his current bounty was close, but...

In front of him is the same mountain he climbed with Grogu. His bounty was east; he should have turned east an hour ago, yet, he’s here, staring down memories square in the face. He knows he should turn around because that would be the right thing to do, the normal thing to do, but he presses forward, walking, climbing, slipping, and more climbing until he’s dropping down beside the dome-shaped stone, winded and faintly light-headed despite his heavy helmet.

He wraps an arm around his waist, wincing. Because of his fleeting focus, he let last week’s bounty get in a few good hits that his armor should have sustained. Maybe because he was tired, still is, but every kick to the side of his armor, right above his ribs, hurt, his bones practically vibrating under the force. He’s had so much worse, and yet, his entire body is aching. Every inhale feels like a dagger slipping past his rib cage to his lungs, leaving his exhales worn and shaky.

He slips his helmet off, hoping it will help ease the pressure in his chest, and leaves it on the ground beside him, one hand planted atop it while the other smooths across his plated chest. The air he breathes in slowly is cold, chilling his lungs. He tilts his head back, faintly frowning at the dipping sun that casts the sky in a splash of water colors that’s nothing more to Din than a signal that he needs to move before the light pinks and oranges give way to a merciless black. He’s exposed; he should move, protect himself, secure his bounty. Still, the mere thought of moving enhances the dull throb against his temples.

Instead of leaving, he sighs around a hollow cough and gives in to the fatigue that’s edging sleep across his mind.

He wakes what feels like only seconds later to a cold palm brushing his bangs back and cupping his forehead, and in a motion that could rival the quick speed of a blink, he slips his blaster from his belt and digs it into a firm yet clearly unarmored gut. Worried, blue eyes crowd his vision, and he jams the blaster harder into the person before him, hand steady, prepared.

“Din Djarin.”

The voice is passively soft and familiar, and Din frowns, hesitantly pulling his blaster back. “Jedi?” he croaks out, the word breaking under illness when it leaves his lips. He turns to cough, and the same hand, still pressed to his forehead, drops to his shoulder.

“Easy, Din. You’re running quite the fever.”

He ignores this, instead bringing blurring eyes back to the Jedi’s, frowning sharply. “Grogu?” The small, cheerful giggle that follows has Din shoving around the Jedi to see Grogu waddling toward him, dark, endless eyes meeting his glassy, drooping ones.

The relief comes in the form of a sharp gasp that hits the pressure in Din’s chest, leaving him coughing more. He ignores this as well, instead struggling to stand, but then pain bursts white hot against his side, and he staggers, blindly reaching out until he’s clinging to the Jedi’s shoulder, breathing harsh around barking coughs.

“You’re injured as well.”

Din wants to focus on the fact that the Jedi’s words were nothing short of a statement; he wants to prod his intrusive abilities, but neither holds a candle to what he does instead. He gathers himself with the Jedi’s grounded stance as support, makes it until he’s just before Grogu, and then he drops to his knees. He doesn’t move; he just watches, breath held tight in his lungs, and then Grogu shuffles toward him until his small hands are reaching out into what Din can only assume is a hug.

“Hey, kid.” Din breaks, his eyes stinging behind closed lids, and he hugs Grogu back with such gentle force. He’s shaking with he knows chills he can only pin on his apparent fever, his side’s a raging fire, and his chest is tight enough to suffocate him, and yet, Din feels nothing but light, blissful relief.

They stay like this for an endless moment, two broken halves slowly stitchng back into some sort of whole, and then the Jedi clears his throat behind him, and Din looks back, frowning.

“Why are you here?”

“Grogu’s been very anxious over the last day, and he led me here to you.”

Din looks back to see Grogu looking up at him, cooing lightly. He nods, and then the Jedi’s helping him to his feet, an arm going around his waist the moment he staggers under the heavy pain.

“My ship isn’t far. Do you think you can make the walk?”

Din nods, but only three minutes into their trek down the mountain, he blacks out, going slack against the Jedi, and when he wakes, he’s indoors and lying in a cot. His armor’s gone, leaving him only in his dark pants and long-sleeve, grey shirt. There’s a damp cloth draped over his forehead. It’s warm to the touch, and he yanks it off with a frown.

“You’re awake.”

Din sits up sharply, his arm immediately going to wrap around his waist at the tightend pain.

“Your ribs have been wrapped,” the Jedi starts. “There isn’t much I can do for the fever, I’m afraid. You’ll have to wait it out. Grogu insisted he help with your ribs. They’ll still be quite sore, but the worst of the damage has been mended.”

Din’s hand softens above his ribs, and very faintly, he can recall waking once in a cold, fevered haze to feel a strong, pulsing warmth spreading over his side. He smiles, small, but then, his frown returns, and his eyes shift to see Grogu sleeping in a small crib of sorts beside the Jedi. He knows how much Grogu’s powers take out of him.

“Grogu... Is he-” Din starts, words fading as Grogu sits up, blinking slowly around a small coo, his smile widening when his eyes find Din’s.

“His training is beginning to show,” the Jedi says as he helps Grogu out of the crib and into Din’s lap, where he sighs smally and snuggles his face into Din’s shirt.

“He’s stronger,” Din finishes, more for himself, but the Jedi nods anyway.

“He’s progressing quickly.”

Din’s hand finds Grogu’s back, and he smiles, warm and very real. He wants to stay stuck in this moment forever, he decides- this comfortable feeling of complete rightness. Yet, he can’t hinder Grogu’s training, not after all he’s done to get him here.

“I should go,” Din mutters to the Jedi once he’s sure Grogu’s fallen back asleep. The words are heavy on his tongue.

“You should.”

Din whips a sharp, side gaze to the Jedi, who’s busying himself with a large cloak.

“However, your wellbeing is an apparent factor in Grogu’s training,” the Jedi starts, draping the cloak around Din’s shaking shoulders.

Din hadn’t realized he started shaking, but now, with the added fabric bringing warmth, he shivers, and with his free hand, he tugs the cloak tighter around himself, draping some over Grogu.

“As long as you’re in this condition, I fear Grogu won’t be able to concentrate.”

Din’s brows furrow. “What are you saying?” He coughs lightly, wincing at the pain in his chest.

“It’s in everyone’s best interest if you stay until you’re well. I’m afraid I don’t have much to treat what appears to be a nasty chest infection quickly, so I think you’ll be confined to bed rest for at least a week.”

“I’m staying here for a week?” Din questions, his hazy mind struggling.

“I won’t force you, but I think that would be the best,” the Jedi says, “for all of us. Will that be alright for you?”

Din brings his gaze back down to Grogu curled up in his lap, and he smiles, exhausted and worn but mutely happier than he’s been in weeks. “Yes,” he mutters. “Thank you.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #star wars #sickfic #whump #whumpfic #luke skywalker #baby yoda #fanfic #mandaddy #look i genuienly can't remember if Luke introduced himself in the end of season 2 okay?#but i loved how Din was so cutely clueless about Jedi stuff #so i headcannon that he refers to Luke as only Jedi for a while #even after he learns his name #also i really don't know a whole lot about star wars so pls don't @me #but if anyone wants to request more Luke and Din #I'd be super down for that

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tact-and-impulse · 3 years

Text

Operating a day behind, but putting the ‘dark’ in ‘dark academia’ for this one, @shepherds-of-haven

pact

It must be in the wrong place, she decides, upon finding the volume in the middle of the chemistry section. This book is slimmer than everything else in this part of the stacks, and she inspects the dull burgundy cover for a title. There isn’t one, only an old-fashioned lock that’s coated in rust and rendered obsolete as she opens to the first page.

Her vision is immediately filled with blood-red script. Latin, but the structure is arranged unusually. A code of some sort? And once she realizes that, she can’t stop herself. She’s hit a block anyway, it would be a good diversion. Before long, she’s strolled back to the desk she’s claimed, setting aside her polymer models, fresh off the 3D printer. It’s already late, and the blessed silence allows her to concentrate. She hasn’t touched Latin since her undergrad studies, and she’ll have to find a dictionary to translate some of the vocabulary. From what she can tell, the book seems to be a religious text, for a rite of some kind...

A sting on her index finger, and she reflexively draws her hand away. It’s been a while since she’s had a paper cut, and she’s dripping on the last sentence, mixing with the ink. The book slips from her grasp, as she tries to stem the bleeding, but she never hears it land. Instead, there are the sounds of crackling flame, tearing parchment, and a deep inhale.

The book has disappeared, and in its place is a man, if she can call him that. His hair is the same color as the ink, his eyes glowing yellow. He’s barely wearing anything other than a cloth drape for his modesty and metallic chains wrapping over his skin. His hands are bound in front of him, crossed at the wrists. When his lips part in a sneer, his canines are sharpened to fine points. “What do you want?”

She blinks. “Ah. I must have fallen asleep.” For good measure, she squeezes her finger and the pain tells her otherwise.

“I can assure you, you are not dreaming.”

“So...are you a demon?” It’s the only other explanation she can think of, not that it’s supposed to be possible at all. She’s a chemical engineer; the occult is reserved for the cable TV shows she’s seen advertisements for.

“Correct.” He looms over her, the chains jingling.

“And I released you, apparently.” She tilts her head. “Do you have a name?”

“Croelle. Now then, what do you desire?” This close, he’s radiating warmth, like a space heater.

“For starters, help me with my thesis.”

His flawless features show a hint of confusion. “...Your what?”

“It’s a project I need to finish next week. I’m having a hard time with it. Aren’t you a powerful demon?”

He also doesn’t like loaded questions, because he regards her with scorn. “I have been locked in that book for centuries.”

Clicking her tongue, she turns back to her polymer models. “Then, do whatever you want. Perhaps, you’ll catch up on the current time period before I figure out what I’m doing.” She examines the plastic constructs, but she doesn’t hear him leave. She spares a peripheral glance and he’s still standing there, with a grimace.

“I cannot. I have yet to recover my strength.”

“Do you need more blood?” Her minor wound’s already clotted though.

He scoffs. “Blood was the mechanism to seal me, but it is not how I draw my power. I am an incubus.”

“Oh, so you need sex.” She bluntly says, and his expression wavers in surprise. “You are very attractive, but I’ve wasted enough time on you already and to be frank, stress has killed my libido as of late. I’m sure there are plenty of individuals who can help you. It’s winter now, but with those chains, you look like you appeal to a certain demographic. You won’t have any trouble propositioning anyone.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re a curious scholar.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Croelle.”

“But you have not accounted for one thing. Your own blood undid the seal, so if I attempt to leave your proximity...” He takes a few steps, but he can only manage to the end of the aisle, before a severe headache pounds the inside of her head. It seems to have a similar effect, as he walks back, his voice a growl. “Like it or not, we are bound to each other.”

“For how long?” She demands.

“Until I recover.”

“When I thought the book was a puzzle, I didn’t anticipate this. Alright, let’s try something.” She pulls one of the chains, and the rest of him follows.

His yellow eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”

“Doing what I love. Testing a hypothesis.” She presses her mouth to his, which is softer than she expected. It only takes a second for him to begin reciprocating, and an unknown number for her to remember to breathe. Abruptly, she breaks it off, heartbeat in her throat. “Is that enough?”

He runs his tongue over his canines, savoring what he can taste. “A first kiss? You are curious.” Then, he moves his hands, which are now free. One chain unlocked, many more to go.

“You’re welcome.” Her lips feel swollen, and she resists the urge to touch them. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better. In fact, I would like to offer an exchange.” He taps her forehead, and it’s like she downed five espresso shots. She’s awake, alert, and...she can see the reaction in her mind. Her hands desperately find her pen and paper, as she scribbles it all down. As the high fades, she stares at her handwriting. It makes sense. She knows where to go from here.

When she finally reaches a pause and rests her cramping hand, she muses. “So, if I keep kissing you, you’ll recover your power. I can work with that.”

“Agreed. However, in return, when you are finished with this project,” He grabs her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I get to have you.”

A thrill shoots through her. Oh, so her libido isn’t totally dead. She swallows. “Only if I graduate, or else, this will have been for nothing.”

“Then, do we have a deal?”

“Yes.” And she intends to be confident, but at his wide grin, she wonders whether this is fair.

#shepherds of haven #shepherds of summer 2021 #anyway time for bed i'm also under stress

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talesofesther · 4 years

Text

Anchor - Part 11

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Masterlist with the other parts

See part one for important notes

A/N: Alright, this part is long, so read it with time hahah. Anyway I guess this is one of my favorites?? idk, I think I like how it turned out. However, I reeeeally hope that Five is not too off his character here and that I didn't rush too much!? Like everything that I write, I didn't exactly plan for this part to turn out like this kdjsjkds, but I hope you guys like it and that it fits both the whole series and Five's personality. Also, I'm a B*tch for Five getting comfort... So yeah. If you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know. ♥

Gravel cracked beneath Five's feet as he exited the car, they parked a little far away from the Consulate just so nobody would notice their arrival. Putting his hands on the pockets of his pants, Five eyed Y/N's form walking in front of him, she was happily chatting with Lila with an adorable smile on her face. His troubled expression softened for a moment, he was still calming down from what happened earlier. Could I really be... Falling for her? The mere thought of it terrified him.

But before Five was able to make himself fully panic again, Diego popped up beside him. "Nice outfit"

"Shush" Five mumbled to him, his mind still partially clouded by his dangerous assumptions.

Diego's eyes slowly followed Five's line of sight, and seeing the subject of his attention, he wondered "You like her, don't you?" His voice wasn't teasing anymore, it was understanding and genuinely curious. He looked down at his brother with an almost caring gaze.

Five scoffed, like that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "That's... No, of course not" but his voice wavered, and he didn't trust his eyes to hold what he had just said.

"Well, if you did... I think there was a big chance that she might like you too" the man patted Five's shoulder and stepped ahead to walk beside Lila, leaving Five behind with a thundering heart and sweaty hands. No. She would never like someone like me. The boy thought to himself, and yet he couldn't help the tiny sparkle of hope that had already been lit inside his lonely heart.

Eventually they finally walked up to the huge mansion of the Mexican Consulate, in which the Gala was being held, the place looked almost intimidating. Its big stone walls and luxurious windows and structure made it look almost like a castle, powerful people were arriving non-stop and there were guards everywhere.

Y/N, Lila, Diego and Five somehow managed to sneak their way in, unnoticed. And if the outside was already extravagant, the inside of the Consulate was breathtaking. A big chandelier graced the ceiling of the entrance, all the decorations and paintings hanging around just screamed richness. There was even a whole mexican band inside the place, and a big table full of snacks and champagne.

"Thank god we dressed appropriately, look at all these people" Y/N said as she slowly made her way inside, looking at the people who were already inside as well, one dressed fancier than the other. The girl mindlessly grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the waitresses who were passing by.

Five did the same, if anything just to keep his hands busy. He was twitchy and anxious, both for the fact that he would see his father soon, but also because of what happened with Y/N back at Elliott's place just a couple of minutes ago. Five wondered how the girl was able to remain so calm all the time, while he was there almost losing his mind.

"I don't see dad anywhere" Diego said as everyone stopped to analyze their surroundings.

"Just keep an eye out for the majestic twelve. Y/N and I got the upstairs" Five said while looking around at the many people who were walking about and dancing to the music. His eyebrows were knitted together in concentration, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his glass of champagne.

Finishing her drink, Y/N settled her glass down on the table behind them and followed Five upstairs. Moving her heels from side to side to avoid bumping into the crowd of people.

Five disposed of his glass and walked up the rounded staircase, only giving a side glance behind him to check if Y/N was still following. As they went up, the music from the band started to sound quieter and quieter, until it was just a faint noise and the only sound was from their footsteps. Even the corridors of the mansion were fancy looking, with beautifully drawn wallpapers and some expensive decorations here and there.

Y/N couldn't ignore the twirling of her stomach as she took slow steps behind Five. Regardless of the cheerful aura of the gala, the people here seemed weirdly skeptical, plus they were looking for Five's father again. It all pieced together made Y/N feel very out of place.

"What do you plan to do when you find him?" Y/N asked gently. After whatever it was that happened back at Elliot's with Five, the girl felt a pang of nervousness on her gut when talking to him. Whether it was for how incredibly close they got or because of the immediate change of Five's behavior when Diego came in, she couldn't tell. But it made her very aware of how attached she became to the boy.

Five stopped on his tracks and turned around to look at Y/N, it was hard to ignore the wave of feelings that surged through him whenever he met those eyes, but he did his best to keep his face neutral. "I'm not sure, but I want to know what he's planning"

Just when Five finished talking, he noticed one of the doors ahead of him start to open. In a quick movement, the boy grabbed Y/N's wrist and pulled her inside the room to his left so the people couldn't see them.

Y/N let out a squeak of surprise when Five pulled her body to the side out of nowhere. Next thing she knew there was a hand clasped over her mouth to prevent her from making further noises.

Five covered her mouth as quickly and as gently as he could, but standing so close to her again, he didn't fail to notice how Y/N's whole body became rigid and her eyes widened as he yanked her body, even if she relaxed not even a second after. Slowly removing his hand from her mouth, Five furrowed his brows and felt his breathing getting heavy. Did I scare her? The thought felt like a bullet to the heart. Sure, maybe his movements were a little sudden and violent, but he had to be quick. But she didn't... Didn't think that I would hurt her, right? Five desperately asked himself, but there was no answer, the only thing he could hear was the frantic beating of his heart.

Y/N noticed the door moving, she noticed the people that were about to pass through it and see them. But she wasn't expecting Five to grab her like that, he never does that. And to have him standing millimeters away from her with his hand on her face just the next second, made her whole body tense in nervousness and blood rush to her cheeks. Luckily the room was dark and he wasn't able to notice that last detail. As soon as his soft hand moved away from her, Y/N let out a soft shaky breath and peeked outside to see if the people were gone.

"T- they entered a room. Do you think that was them?" The girl said, doing her best to keep her voice steady.

"Probably" Five muttered without meeting her eyes and already walking back outside.

Stepping ahead to look at the room the people just entered, Five fidgeted with his hands and forced his mind to focus on the matter at hand. With his head hung low, he extended his hand for Y/N to take, even if it was slightly shaking.

The girl looked at Five as if he was a puzzle that was impossible to crack, and he often was. With careful movements, her hand closes around his own, but her face was contorted in confusion. "What is it?"

"Just... Try to keep quiet" came the soft whisper from Five, and the next thing Y/N knew, she was feeling like the atoms on her body were being pulled through space without her consent, making her feel incredibly nauseated. The girl blinked and saw herself inside a dark closet, ahead of her stood the men she saw just a moment ago, they were talking. If it wasn't for Five's hand closed tightly around her own, she feared she would have fallen. Gulping down her words, Y/N just mouthed 'dammit'.

Five was tense, Y/N could feel it in his grip. "The president is continuing to make inquiries into Roswell and the other crash sites, gentlemen. And as you know, we cannot allow him to get his nose into our business. I've confirmed the motorcade will indeed be turning left on Elm Street, we'll have our people in place" said one of the men in the room, he had a suspicious demeanor and was wearing sunglasses.

Both of them were intently listening and watching through the cracks of the closet when another man said "Gentlemen, this plan of yours seems ill-timed" was that..?

Before Y/N could finish her line of thought, she heard Five bumping into one of the hangers and making noise. She turned to look at him with an expression that said 'are you kidding me?!?'

The man that was just talking seemed to have listened to Five as well, he grabbed a metal stick and slowly walked up to the closet they were in. Y/N's eyes widened in fear and she vigorously shook Five's hand urging him to get them out of there. Just as the man was about to stab them, Five teleported them out.

Y/N braced herself on the corridor walls, regaining her breath both from almost being discovered and from the nausea swimming in her stomach. "Was that your-" the girl couldn't complete her sentence because a strong punch to her head sent her to the ground and blurred her vision, making her let out a grunt of pain.

Y/N slowly raised her hand to her head and where the pain was, feeling something wet there. Still on the ground, she turned around and blinked several times to try and focus her eyes. She could hear people fighting and see a black figure being slammed into the walls, probably Five.

Making her body work again, Y/N braced her hands on the floor and got up on her wobbly feet. Now that she could see clearly, a big man with white hair and a white blazer was punching Five. The boy was being beaten several times on his abdomen and face, feeling her heart clench at the scene in front of her, Y/N moved as fast as she could towards Five.

With a swift movement, Y/N kicked the man just behind his knee, taking his attention away from Five. When he turned around to beat the girl again, she skillfully ducked and gave him a punch on his throat. That gave her a couple of seconds to grab one of the paintings off the wall and strike his head with it.

But Y/N’s eyes went wide again when even with blood coming out of his temple, the man turned around and grabbed her by the neck. He easily lifted Y/N from the ground and squeezed her neck like it was nothing. The girl was already choking on her own breathing while she punched and kicked him to try and make him let her go, but he was much stronger than her.

If it wasn't for Lila jumping in and kicking the big man in the face, Y/N was almost sure she would be dead, she was already seeing black dots in her vision. The girl fell to the ground with her body being partially limp, clutching at the carpet beneath her as a means to ground herself while she took erratic breaths to fill her lungs again.

Everything happened in less than ten seconds, Five only had the time to get up from the ground himself and see Y/N almost dying in front of his eyes when Lila came in to help. Rushing beside the girl, he helped her up in a sitting position, one of his hands was holding her shoulder as the other came up to her cheek. He could already see the harsh bruises forming around her throat. "Hey, you okay?" Five asked with his voice on edge and filled with concern.

Y/N just nodded at him, clutching the fabric of her dress in her chest as if it would somehow make the air come faster to her lungs. She didn't feel like she could talk just yet, even if she wanted to. Seeing an opportunity when Lila knocked the man down, Five jumped to his feet and threw him out the window. He was finally gone, Y/N closed her eyes and laid her head back against the wall in relief.

Slowly getting up yet again, Y/N looked out the window and saw that all the guests from the gala were leaving, and with them, was who she presumed was Five's father. "Five" Y/N's small voice cracked and she coughed soon after, but she managed to get the boy's attention.

When Five looked out the window to what Y/N was pointing, he only clasped her hand in his again and teleported them outside.

________

After Five managed to shout something in Greek to his father and send Lila away saying he would kill her if he saw her again, which Y/N tried to convince him otherwise but he was pretty insistent on the matter, they were finally back at Elliott's place.

"Is that...?" Diego mumbled as he looked at Luther and Elliot who were passed out on the couch.

Five sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Luther"

Diego scoffed with a small smirk on his face. "Okay, I'm gonna go lay down. I'm tired" he said as he made his way out. But Y/N thought he looked more melancholic than tired.

The girl let out an exhausted breath and ran a hand through her hair, hissing in pain when she accidentally touched the area that the man had punched her in. "Uh what a night" Y/N grumbled. Right now the dress and makeup she was wearing only increased her discomfort, and all she wanted was to take a shower and get rid of those clothes.

Five shot her an apologetic glance, he felt guilty for even letting her get hurt. But he didn't make any moves towards her or said anything, the way she reacted to that earlier was still pretty vivid in his memory.

With slow strides, Y/N made her way to the closest bathroom. Luckily for them, Elliott had two, well one of them was a proper bathroom, the other one was just a tiny excuse for one, but it had a shower. Stopping midway, the girl turned back towards Five. "Who were those guys anyway? Why do they wanna kill us?"

"Commission muscle, we don't belong in this timeline so they sent those guys to take us out. Just another reason to get out of here faster" Five said with a low voice, for once his brows weren't pinched together. His hands were resting on his pockets and his shoulders were slumped, he looked genuinely tired.

Five's big eyes were gazing at Y/N with a different kind of sorrow, he was looking for something. She licked her lips in nervousness and slowly approached him. The silence in the room was far from comfortable. Y/N could hear the sound of her high heels colliding with the floor, she stopped just outside Five's personal space. Gulping down any insecurities, the girl raised her hand and brushed away a single drop of blood that was resting on Five's cheek, she could already see a bruise forming there.

"I'm gonna take a shower, you should too, relax a little. Then you can wait for me in the guest room" Y/N’s voice was gentle and stood just above a whisper. With a little smile, she turned back around and walked the rest of the way towards the small bathroom.

Y/N sighed in relief as she removed her dress and untied her hair. Turning on the shower, the sound of the water colliding with the tiles was almost soothing. The girl took her time to try and relax under the warm water, washing her hair, she could see the red water painting the white floor of the bathroom. Getting out, Y/N felt ten times lighter. She put on her pajamas and made her way to Elliott's spare room.

The room wasn't big, but it felt cozy. Like the rest of the place, the illuminating wasn't the best, but there was a big double bed in the middle. Five was sitting there, waiting, his chest steadily rising and falling as he looked at nothing but thought about everything. The sight of him made Y/N smile, his hair was dripping wet from the shower and he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and pants that were just a tad too big for him. Probably borrowed from Elliott's closet, Y/N figured.

"Hey, feeling better?" the girl entered the room and made her way to sit beside Five on the comfy bed, their shoulders touching.

"Sure" the boy mumbled to her, his head was low, looking down at his feet.

"What's wrong Five?" Y/N's voice was nothing but a whisper. She could sense there was something bothering him, and she had a feeling it had nothing to do with his father. This was different, he was different.

Five turned his head away from her and looked at the wall beside him, an unamused smile on his face. "It's nothing" his voice was even lower than hers.

The instant burning of tears behind his eyes when Y/N gingerly took his hand on hers was undeniable. But he didn't have the strength to pull his hand away from her, his body wanted her touch way too much. "Diego said something..." Five started, his eyes still looking away, not wanting to recognize his own vulnerability.

The gentle movement of Y/N's thumb at the back of his hand urged him to continue. "I- I think he's right... But I don't know how to deal with-" Five choked on his own words as the first tear made its way down his cheek, and then another, and another.

"Hey, it's okay" Y/N raised her other hand to his face and made him look at her, her touch already brushing away some of his tears. "Whatever it is, I know you'll figure it out. Besides, I'm always here to help if you need it" she smiled kindly at him and couldn't stop herself from planting a sweet kiss on his forehead. Her heart clenching at the sight of him so lost and troubled.

Five felt his heart almost beat out of his chest when Y/N's lips met his skin, a shiver ran through his whole body. His bright eyes fluttering halfway closed in a mix of delight and relief.

Moving her hand down, Y/N saw a dark bruise covering his left cheek, wondering for a moment what other bruises his clothes were hiding. "You're hurt"

Five's eyes fully opened again and landed on the girl's neck. His stomach twisting at the harsh dark spots covering her throat. "You are too"

Y/N's lips formed a half-smile, as she tilted her head to the boy in front of her. Could he just try and care about himself for once? "Not as much as you" something inside Y/N told her that she wasn't talking about the visible bruises anymore. "Let me help"

Five's eyes were tired and glossy, but they regarded Y/N with something akin to both sorrow and want. Five only gives her a gentle nod, surrendering to both his needs and her wishes.

Getting up from her place on the bed with a soft blush on her cheeks, Y/N made her way to the kitchen to grab some ice and anything else that might help.

The boy's eyes stayed glued to the door from the moment Y/N left until she walked back in. The fear of being alone tugged at his stomach once she was gone, and when she came back to him, new tears clouded his sight.

"I found some painkillers" Y/N sat back down with a smile and handed Five a glass of water and some pills. Only at the mention of pain, that Five acknowledged how much the bruises on his abdomen were aching. He quickly gulped down the pills.

"Okay, raise your shirt" the girl said as the blood rushed to her cheeks, she tried to avoid Five's eyes at the moment.

With his breath partially stuck on his throat, Five timidly raised his shirt up to his chest, revealing a bunch of dark purple areas around his stomach and even some cuts here and there.

"Oh Five" Y/N sighed at the sight of his bruised body, it didn't feel right for him to be this hurt, neither outside nor inside. She tended to his wounds at the best of her abilities, she didn't fail to notice that Five would slightly shiver and his breath would hitch whenever her fingers accidentally brushed on his skin. He looked uncharacteristically small right now, with his body covered in injuries and his eyes red and puffy as he looked at Y/N almost seeming like he was asking to be cared for.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" Five's quiet voice echoed through the room when Y/N finished her work on him. He carefully put his shirt down, intently looking at her face as he tried not to dwell too much on what had just happened between them. How she once again tore down his walls like they were nothing. For a split second, Five wondered if it would be too selfish to just... Let her, just admit that he wanted all of this. But he soon stopped his own line of thought.

Y/N chuckled to him, her hands cradled in her lap. "My aunt always made sure I was able to defend myself, she taught me the basics of what she knew"

Five only nodded at her, thinking back at how the way she moved was so familiar.

The room fell silent once again, Y/N's eyes drifted down to the clock on the bedside table, then back up at Five's eyes that were fighting to stay open. "It's late, I think you should rest. I'll take the couch"

Five's eyes shot up to look at her as he was already vigorously shaking his head in protest. "No, Luther is passed out on the couch. You can sleep here"

The girl got up from the bed and crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him. "And where are you going to sleep?"

Five's mouth opened and closed in search of words. "I'll just... Lay down in one of the armchairs" the boy shrugged.

"Not in that state, you won't. Won't let you" Y/N sounded almost like she was scolding him.

"Well, I- I won't let you either" Five stuttered with an unsure tone. Sometimes he felt like Y/N could convince him to do almost anything, but he didn't want her sleeping like that.

Y/N looked around the room with a blush creeping up on her cheeks. "Then... I guess we'll have to share it"

Five's eyes went wide and his cheeks became rosy as well at the thought of sleeping beside the girl. He could already feel his hands start to tremble and his heart speeding up the pace from nervousness, but it didn't seem like he had much of a choice.

Turning off the lights, Y/N laid down on the bed beside Five. His tenseness was almost palpable, the boy was laying on the very edge of his side of the bed, his hand gripping the sheets to try to relieve some of his stress. "Relax, I don't bite" Y/N tried to lighten his mood.

But that only caused Five to feel angry at himself for not being able to control his emotions. "I'm not used to this" he whispered back at her without thinking much.

"Not being alone?" Y/N laid on her side, looking at the back of Five's head.

"Yeah... That" the boy sighed, if not being alone was the only thing bothering him, he'd be happy.

"I can leave..."

"Please don't" it was just a quiet plea, but to Y/N, Five's voice made it seem like he was begging for her to never leave.

"Okay, I won't" she whispered back at him with a small smile. Reaching her hand forward, the girl gently ran her fingers through Five's soft hair in a soothing manner. "Goodnight Five"

Five's eyes closed and a pleased noise escaped his mouth at the feeling of her fingers massaging his scalp. He was already painfully aware that it would be a nightmare to live even through one mere day without that sweet touch. "Goodnight"

It had probably passed not more than three hours when Y/N was suddenly taken away from her sleep. Her eyes slowly opened and adjusted to the darkness of the room, she could feel Five moving beside her, quiet whimpers coming from him every now and again. That's probably what woke her up.

Turning to his side, with the only light coming from the moon outside, Y/N couldn't see much, but she noticed the deep and troubled frown on Five's face that just shouldn't be there. His breathing was frantic and he was sweating, sometimes his body would involuntarily move like it was trying to run away from something painful.

It didn't take a genius to know that the poor boy was having a nightmare, and a really bad one it seemed. Y/N thought about waking him up, but she knew from experience that it was almost impossible to go back to sleep after something like that happened, and Five needed the sleep.

So she gently took hold of one of his hands that were stretched towards her, careful to not wake him up. And with her other arm, she brought Five close to her by encircling his waist. It was no mystery anymore that he hated to feel alone. "You're okay. I'm here. You're not alone" she whispered quietly in his ear like a mantra until he calmed down and his features were almost fully relaxed again.

Five's body seemed to subconsciously gravitate towards her own once he was sleeping peacefully again. Y/N smiled and gingerly planted a kiss on his nose. She had no idea what he would do once he woke up like this, but she didn't let go of him during the entire night.

***

Thank you for reading ♥ the next part should be out soon. And if you have any idea about how this story should progress or anything you would like to see in it, please send me an ask or message and I’d be happy to include it. All opinions and feedback are appreciated ♥

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