#discovering everything that kept you warm and safe during the most dangerous times of your life

[princesssarcastia]

finally cracking the code and figuring out how to take a stab at "write what you know" (from an emotional angle) is pretty fantastic for generating story ideas, or at least story beats.

[bokettochild]

Febuwhump suggestion for “hostage situation” if I may

Ravio being held captive by some villain? (Preferably resurrected Yuga for angst?)

As someone who STILL hasn't played ALBW (I tried!) I wasn't able to swing Yuga. i'm not sure how I would do that, but... I may have figured out something else? Don't worry, Ravio still suffers >:)

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 7,066

Summary: Mister Hero never goes unarmed, and Ravio discovers just WHY when an old enemy from his friend's life reappears and mistakes him for Link. Perhaps, when Mister Hero gets back, he's going to ask for fighting lessons. That is, if he survives the gladiator's arena.

(Note: LoZ Manga references. You don't need to know much, just that Legend is, in the manga, a gladiatorial champion.)

-

There’s one rule Mister Hero has always kept: do not stray from the house without a weapon. 

 He’s laughed at the other for it a few times, during the time when they shared the home, and sickness, injury, or exhaustion had stopped the hero from being out and about fulfilling their work. He’d felt guilty, at times, for letting the other lad do everything, so on the days when Mister Hero did decide to allow himself to relax a bit, he’d tried to make them enjoyable. He took on most of the work of cooking and keeping the house anyways, and doing the tiniest bit extra to accommodate the hero was hardly any burden, what with how much work the other was doing for him. Even on rest days though, Mister Hero has never been one to sit idle. Provided he didn’t end up sleeping the day away out of exhaustion, he would typically slip out to tend the garden and orchard to ensure the coming harvest wasn’t lost, and trips to the market also came about to restock the house’s spacious pantry. 

The market in Kakariko is so much nicer than those in Thieves Town, which were always louder, dangerous, and usually somewhat violent. The people of Hyrule, in comparison to Lorule, are a peaceful sort, so seeing Mister Hero arm himself before leaving the house had been odd. 

“You’re not returning to the road already, are you?” He’d asked. 

Honest eyes had turned to him, stare heavy, and trying so hard to find something to focus on, what with Ravio’s own face still having been covered at the time. “No.” 

“Then why are you arming yourself?” He’d asked. He'd already explored the area around the house, including the village, and while the roads between could be a bit rough, it was never anything that couldn’t be avoided. A sword seemed to be overkill. 

“Why aren’t you?” Mister Hero had stared at him. He'd been to Lorule already at that point, so perhaps it made sense that he’d presume Ravio would feel a similar need to prepare against a foe, but the merchant was doing no such thing.  

Sure, he has a knife, but he doesn’t really use it unless he really needs to, and even then, it’s mostly just for a quick stab or slice so he can have time to get away. He's never been much of a fighter, and no one had wanted to teach him either, saying he was too small to handle a weapon, or fight at all. Now that he’s met Mister Hero, he knows that’s all poppycock, since the hylian wields many a weapon with skill superior to the average knight, despite being even smaller than Ravio is- if only by an inch or so. Still, he doesn’t really want to learn to fight, and finding favor at the castle had meant he hasn’t needed to since his early childhood, working for Hilda usually keeps him well away from anyone and anyone who wanted to harm him. There were some more aggressive persons in the castle, but the threat of the queen’s wrath was too great for them to risk anything. 

“Kakraiko is safe,” he’d answered, voice warm to convey a smile the hero couldn’t see. “Why would I need to?” 

“Danger can appear anywhere,” and something had snapped behind violet eyes, “you shouldn’t relax your guard just because it looks safe.” 

The words have stuck with him since then. Granted, he’s not faced much since, staying mainly at the house while Mister hero had tended to their mission, but after it was over, and they’d parted ways, he’d not strayed much from the castle. He’s kept to his own and in spaces shielded by magic, so weapons weren’t something he needed. Granted, when he’d taken the portal that opened to him in the castle, tumbling out into a new era and meeting a new hero, he had been called upon to fight at times, and he had had a weapon then, but he’s really not the aggressive sort. Fighting isn’t in his nature any more than sitting still is in Mister Hero’s. 

Now returned safely to his own era by a very apologetic Lana, he’s taken up his old habits from living in Hyrule. He’s got his knife, of course, because after that one time, Mister Hero had taken to asking him, at random times, if he was armed. The hero is obsessive about it, but then again, he is about many things.  

Once it was all over and Yuga had been defeated, but before they’d gone their separate ways, he’d seen Mister Hero actually fully disarm for the first time. They’d been exhausted by the day; its emotions, the battle, and just everything. There was an intent to close the connection between their worlds, but Hilda had promised them some time. He’s thankful for it too, although that day had been simultaneously one of the worst and best in his life. 

They’d gone back to the house, both awkward with each other and not speaking at all until abruptly Mister Hero had announced that he would be having a bath. His joints ached from the fight and he needed to relax, so he’d drawn a bath into the wooden tub he kept in the house, set before the fire to keep it warm, and while Ravio had had every intention of leaving him to his privacy (goodness knows he had no room to disrespect such a thing after all his fuss about his hood!) he’d sort of gotten distracted when he’d seen the hero disarming. First the sword and belt had come off. They weren’t put away though but set on the floor close enough to reach from in the tub, which really had been a very clear indicator of how wary and distrustful a person his hero is. After those then had been the knives; he thinks there must have been at least a dozen hidden beneath the clothes of the hero, and even after those were all set aside, there came the medallions, the rings, the earrings with protective magic, the magic infused tunics, the boots. He'd left when clothes started coming off, because Mister Hero had asked, rather flustered as he’s fiddled with the buttons of his shift, if Ravio was intending to ogle him the whole time and he’d hurried out as answer.  

Really though, it came as a bit of a shock to realize just how much in the ways of weapons and defensive tools the hero carried. 

He doesn’t see a need for that though. He keeps the knife, but nothing else. He’s not a fighter, he’ll never be a fighter, and he doesn’t have any wish to either. 

Sometimes, looking at the home buried under a decade’s worth of adventures, he wonders if Mister Hero ever wanted it either, but it’s sort of a null point now, considering there’s really no changing things. Even if he wanted too, he doesn’t think Mister Hero is capable of spending any part of his life without at least one weapon in easy reach at all times. 

It’s fine though. As the hero, it makes sense that his housemate is armed, and him being able to defend himself is important in his line of work. Ravio, however, has no such needs. Any enemies he’s made, he’s left them behind in Lorule, and there’s no way for them to slip across to get at him now. The house is well guarded at all times, between the magic twined through the trees and the bees that sting anything and anyone that they deem a threat. Out in town, he’s got the good sense to be aware of his surroundings, but fighting, even with people who want to harm him, isn’t really necessary. He’s fast enough to evade blows and slip out of their clutches in the case of anyone actually wanting to hurt him, and again, that’s very rare, especially once they get the idea that he’s not worth the trouble. 

Since returning to Hyrule, there’s really been no trouble whatsoever, so maybe he is slightly to blame for having let his guard drop. Yes, if he’d only been a bit more aware- but he hadn’t and now Mister Hero is definitely never going to relax about his safety ever again. 

He’s on the road, headed to the market to fill the pantry again. It’s not that it ever really empties, but Mister Hero always likes to keep it full to brimming on the off chance of not being able to restock for one reason or another. Illness, war and sometimes his own safety are some of the reasons he’s cited for not being able to get out, or shop for food. He thinks there’s maybe more to it, maybe something to do with the hero’s stunted growth, but he doesn’t ask. If anything, he’s just as happy to make sure they never run out of food, as Lorule hadn’t exactly been the most prosperous place to live either. 

The roads aren’t any worse than normal, and now that Yuga and Ganon aren’t an issue anymore, teh soldiers are no longer nearly as aggressive. They've tamed some, and between the efforts of the hero and Hyrule’s princess, they’d begun training new knights who’ve never known the touch of dark magic that so altered the minds of their former defenders. Link is still chased down, of course, but Ravio himself is at no risk, and he’s able to simply slip past the patrolling soldiers with a brief wave on his way down the path. The younger of the two men nods in answer, but neither stop in their route back to the castle. Just the same, he doesn’t stop on his way to Kakariko.  

Celeste, the elder’s wife, had let slip that traders from out Holodrum way were traveling through the kingdom and would likely stop at the village before heading on the Castletown, and after hearing Mister Hero rave about the fruits found in the other kingdom, he’s determined to see if he can’t find some to serve when next his doppelganger and companions arrive back in this time. It’ll be a delightful treat! He hasn’t really seen the hero smile in a bit, and he’s sure he can maybe get him to crack even the smallest of smiles if he makes something especially good. 

Then again, he could just make cocoa, but honestly, he needs to expand his arsenal! 

His attention is sort of on trying to estimate the cost of imported fruits and remembering if they have any recopies for them anywhere (he could just ask, but it would ruin the surprise) so he doesn’t exactly notice until it’s too late that he’s been being followed. Really, he wouldn’t have noticed at all if a hand didn’t suddenly catch ahold of him, grip far too strong to be ignored and making him stumble in his steps. 

“Excuse me-” some offended comment is about to drop from his lips, but he doesn’t exactly get a chance to finish it. Something soft, but with a strong smell is suddenly thrust over his nose and mouth and the merchant finds that any and all words drift out of his mind, thoughts fading all together as darkness steals there place. 

Whomever it was that had grabbed him, he sags into their hold as his final action before his consciousness is lost. 

- 

Coming to, he sort of expects... well, he’s not sure. His head is throbbing and fuzzy, but there’s the vague inclination that usually, when the advisor to a queen is captured, they’ll wake up to...well, not this! 

He's seen the torture chambers in Lorule Castle, and through no fault of his own, is aware of the Sheikah equivalent in Hyrule. He knows that when it comes to people in his position, no time is wasted on the off chance that a noble sends out a rescue of some sort, so if it’s information that’s wanted, well, he’d be waking up in a good deal more pain than he actually does. Blinking his eyes open though, he’s not in a dungeon. Sure, there’s stone walls and a (probably) locked door, but the sunlight that bleeds in through a small, glass paned window, indicates that whatever place this is, it’s not exactly a holding cell either. In one brief glance around, he can see at least two viable escape paths, and besides, it’s clear that someone is very much living in this space. 

Yes, someone is living here, and based off of the figure currently sitting before him, a bottle dangling from their fingers, it’s a very, very big someone. Lolia below, the man is at least as tall as twice of him and one leg alone is as wide as the merchant’s whole body! What sort of a monster of a man is this? And furthermore, why is he looking down at him with such hatred and ire? 

“Just as you asked,” a clipped, almost posh sounding voice, sounds from beside him, and swiveling his eyes over, he sees a decent looking fellow, either Hylian or human- he can’t tell past the hood, smiling up at the giant in the room. “One hero.” 

Oh fiddlesticks, are these people looking for Mister Hero? 

“You sure it’s him?” The giant’s voice is booming, echoing slightly off the walls even as it slurs slightly. 

The young man in the hood nods, smile almost attractive if it wasn't so cold. “Certainly. You wanted a Link Lon? Well, I tracked down his residence and watched for days. This one-” a hand catches his shoulder and shakes, and he moves to protest the rough treatment only to find there’s a gag stopping him doing so, “- was the only one to show his face. Lucky for us though, he matches your description: black hair, short and built like a child’s doll.” It would almost be a compliment, back in Lorule, to be told he looked like a doll, and he knows in Hyrule, there are many people who teasingly call Mister Hero that, but here it almost sounds derogatory, like that’s something to his discredit. 

The giant hums lowly, eyes trailing over him, glazed over and not quite all there. Still, he hopes that the man will realize that whomever they’re looking for, it’s not him. Mister Hero’s name might be the one they’re using, but last he knew, the hero has blonde hair, not black. That is the only real distinction between them, other than their eyes, but he desperately doesn’t want to believe that his friend is the target of these clearly ill-intentioned men either. Good grief, what do they even want him for? 

“Alright,” the giant growls, turning and retrieving a small sack from the table beside him, one which he hands to the hooded fellow, who takes it with an eager smile. “There, for your troubles.” 

It's clear Hood has experience, because he doesn’t take the bag and go, but opens it to briefly check its contents, charming smile dropping a moment later for a sharp look. “This isn’t what we agreed upon.” 

“You took too long.” 

Honestly, as a businessman himself, he’s slightly affronted on his capturer’s behalf! The man has no issue expressing the same anger though. “We agreed on two hundred rupees! This is barely a hundred!” At no response, the man presses on. “I hunted down the Hero of Hyrule for you and dragged him all the way out to Lynna City on your behalf. Of course it took time! You think he’s easy to tempt out of his little magical den?” 

The chair that the giant sits on screeches as the man stands, and he’s really very, very huge when standing, head brushing the ceiling overhead as the chair crashes back against the floor. “Are we going to have a problem?”  

Perhaps smarter than the average crook, Hood huffs, biting back whatever it is that he wants to say, and instead gathering up his earnings before leaving the room. That leaves Ravio alone with the giant. Oh, dear darkness, please let this all be a bad dream! He knows it’s not though. His dreams would have Yuga in the place of the giant, or maybe Ganon. He’s also pretty sure Mister Hero had said once that every face you see in your dreams is a person you’ve met, and he’s never met anyone who looks like the monster of a man before him. 

The monster smirks, picking up��his fallen chair and settling into it again. It's too small for him, but somehow, it doesn't fall to pieces under his bulk. “You’re a hard kid to find, pipsqueak,” the giant drawls, grabbing again for the bottle that’s dwarfed considerably in his hands and taking a swig. It’s clear he’s had plenty of whatever’s inside of it already, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping him at all. “That’s the third one I hired.” This time the words are a growl. 

He wants, very badly, to exclaim that he’s not the hero and that maybe the trouble is that Mister Hero is never at home, but he sort of can’t. Good grief, he really hates gags, and the ropes bound around his arms and wrists aren’t particularly welcome either! From where he’s slumped on the floor, maybe having been dropped, maybe placed, he can’t be sure- he can see that his feet are free, and had it actually been Mister Hero they’d caught, that would be a deadly mistake. Between the fogginess of his head and the length of his robes though, he’s not particularly confident in his ability to stand right now, much less do anything to try and attack his friend’s apparent enemy. 

It’s clear no attack is expected either, as the giant settles back, leaning heavily on a table that creaks and groans at protest to his weight. “You owe me a rematch, pipsqueak,” comes the rough growl, slurring slightly at the ends of the words. “It’s been a long time coming, but Lynna City’s going to see that Buri Bonebreaker doesn’t accept defeat.” 

He doesn’t know what on earth is going on, but whatever it is, it keeps going. Still, from the blather of the drunken man, he can gather at least some information. First, that this person is called Buri and he has a minor obsession with Ravio’s hero counterpart. Second, they’re not in Hyrule anymore, but in a place called Lynna City, which, if he recalls correctly from Mister Hero’s many, many maps, is somewhere on the coast in Labrynna. Thirdly, Buri has something of a grudge against Mister Hero, and while he doesn't explain fully, the merchant gets the impression that the cause has something to do with a fight the man had somehow lost to the hero some years ago. How Mister Hero ever defeated a man this size so many years ago, he can’t imagine, but considering the other had already fought Ganon twice before they’d ever met, it would follow that he’s probably strong enough to have taken on some other foes too and won, even if the odds would definitely appear to be very much not in his favor. 

Lastly, he manages, after what feels like hours of being sneered and jeered at, to learn one final, and perhaps far more important piece of information; Buri apparently has every intention of having a “rematch” with Mister Hero, tomorrow. And he thinks Ravio is the hero, so Ravio is going to be the one who’s involved in this rematch instead of Link! 

Eventually, the giant passes out against the table, but Ravio, still stuck on the floor and still very much in pain from the pounding headache from whatever herbs were used to knock him out, is left unable to do anything save sit and panic. 

He can’t fight a giant. He couldn’t even fight Yuga who, for all intents and purposes, was just a man, ordinarily sized and without much proficiency in anything besides magic to aid him in fighting. He'd had to get Mister Hero to handle that one, and he’s still never gone up against anything in an actual fight in years! The closest was fighting off some bigger children in Thieves Town when he was a kid, and even then, he’d ended up running away as soon as he’d managed to get free from their grasp, food blessedly still in hand. He’s not improved in skill, hasn’t even tried, but this time there won’t be any avoiding it. 

If the cheering he can hear, rumbling outside like a wave of thunder, is a good enough indicator, he has a rather awful suspicion that this fight won’t exactly be a throwdown in an alleyway or a house. What’s outside sounds like a full-blown arena, and that means his destruction and shame will most likely be on full display to anyone and everyone who’s in there. 

Dark hair hits the wall, and he groans. 

He wishes Mister Hero was here. Him, or Hilda, or even Miss Zelda. Anyone who knew enough to give him a helping hand, or at least enough advice on how to slip out. Selfishly, he thinks at least his counterpart could handle being captured, because he’d escape easily, probably before even being brought to the person who’d put a bounty on his head in the first place! He has no such skill though, and the best he has is a knife he can’t reach and a desperation to not die anytime soon. 

Hopefully, that’l do him some good, but he deson’t exactly have high expectations. 

- 

His expectations drop in the morning. 

He was right, it is a blasted stadium that he’s been hauled to, and now he’s left standing in the middle of it, armed only with a knife that looks like a child’s toy in comparison to the axe in the hand of the man before him. Ravio’s heart is beating too fast to probably be good for him, and his breath keeps catching in his throat as he watches from the sidelines as Buri and another, apparently stupid person, duke it out before the crowd. It’s apparent that this is a tiered event, and so far, the giant hasn't lost, but he has left his opponents lying as bloody messes all over the arena to be scraped up by others and hauled away to be fixed up. 

Arena fighting is a huge part of Lorulian culture, so he can’t say he doesn’t understand how such a thing can exist in a kingdom, but he never did get the appeal. There's so much blood and violence! Dread pools up in his stomach as the match he’s watching comes to another bloody end, the announcer calling out, voice loud and carrying over the whole of the area, telling the crowd that the match is won. The winner is clearly apparent, his smile still crazed in the morning light even without having hit the bottle again, and the merchant’s stomach lurches as its fixed on him.  

The announcer continues, unaware, but telling the crowd about a special treat that’s apparently been prepared. Hearing Link’s name so loudly proclaimed isn’t nearly as exciting as it would be to know his friend was battling at Treacherous Tower, where he knows the other is the champion and quite capable of making it out alive. Here though, it’s the same title, apparently uncontested over the years, and this, the announcer tells the crowd, is the first rematch between competitors from five years ago, when the title was last taken. It makes a lot of sense to learn Link had won that title from the giant, hence the man’s lingering resentment and anger. Still, that’s not helping him at all. 

The hooded man, who apparently had wanted to stick around for the fight and is claiming a portion of the inevitable winnings of the giant in return for keeping an eye on Ravio, turns to him with a smirk. “You’re up, mate. Best of luck.” It feels like a taunt. 

The moment the gag comes off, he’s trying to protest, to tell the man that he grabbed the wrong person, that he’s not even a hylian, that he isn’t the hero! His words go unheard though, ropes quickly cut away before he’s pushed out and into the arena, the door between the waiting space for competitors and the main stage pulling shut loudly behind him. 

Oh, he is so going to die! 

The giant’s smile is a mad thing as he comes flying along, feet rumbling at the earth as the merchant fumbles at his sleeves, looking for the knife he keeps there, searching, seeking- there! He’s got it out and just in time to start running away, to dart as fast as his feet will carry him. 

Yet, his feet that fumble to move, to step at all after sitting tied up all night. He trips. 

Thundering steps slow, and he can see the shadow of a figure with an axe raised, although he’s too busy scrabbling to get back on his feet to even dare look back behind him, and then- 

A loud clang sounds through the arena, and a hush falls over the screaming crowd. 

The noise rings in his ears, painfully loud, and this time he can’t help but cover them, shifting up onto his knees and looking over his shoulder to see what in Lolia’s name has brought about so great a crashing sound. 

A familiar blue cap and glittering sword makes him nearly start sobbing in relief right then and there. The giant’s axe has fallen, but not on him, nor on the stone, but caught on the shield of his very own Mister Hero, who’s shaking just slightly from the impact but facing the gladiator head on and unblinking. 

“You...” the giant’s eyes widen, still crazed, but at least more focused than the drunken state of the night before. 

“Me.” He can’t see, not with the hero’s back turned to him, but he can hear the smirk as the shield is pushed up and the axe is cast off, rising again in another blow only for the call of the announcer to sound. 

He’s not entirely sure what happens after that. He only knows that, somehow, the giant catches ahold of him and starts yelling at Mister Hero, who yells back, sword raised and eyes glinting dangerously as they dart from Ravio’s terror filled face to the frothing rage of the giant. The announcer, who may or may not be acting as scorekeeper, darts over, and then the yelling gets to be so much that he can barely make out any of it over the furious pounding of his heart in his ears and throat. 

“I paid good money for this slip,” he’s shaken by a huge hand, “you have no claim over him!” 

“He’s my housemate, you asshole!” Mister Hero’s eyes are blazing as he hisses up at the face twice as high as his own. “How on earth did you think he was me? Let him go!” 

But the man won’t. There's more yelling, threats, drawing of blades and swinging that’s quickly stopped by the announcer, who jumps between the two with more guts than Ravio would suppose the fellow would have, hands raised to either of them. “I promised the audience a fight, so-” 

“You got the wrong Link Lon!” Mister Hero hisses. “You promised them a championship fight, but you’re not even bringing in the champion?” His voice carries, no doubt intentionally, and there’s murmuring from in the stands that clearly has the announcer, who Ravio supposes might also be the owner of the establishment, on edge. 

“We were informed-” 

“Your informant is brain dead if he can’t tell the difference between the Lynna City champion and some random fellow on the road!” And then the yelling starts again, and there’s fussing and there’s pointing of fingers, but Mister Hero’s eyes aren’t on the announcer anymore. They’re on Ravio. “Let him go.” 

The hand holding him by his neck, which is far tighter than he’d like, tightens even further. “No.” 

“He’s got nothing to do with this.” 

“He’s your housemate,” there’s a smile in that voice he definitely doesn't like. “Your friend, yeah?” And the tone drops, a growl that rumbles through the hand around his throat. “You owe me a rematch, pipsqueak.” 

“I don’t owe you a thing.” Dark eyes flit between him and the giant warily, and the hand on the Tempered Sword is tightening, adjusting its hold, ready to make a plunge even as the announcer yells something at the two fighters. 

Another squeeze cuts off his breath for a moment, but blessedly releases it just a second after. “You want his freedom? You have to win it!” 

Realization dawns, quickly overtaken with a sharpness and ferocity he remembers seeing directed at Hilda, at Yuga, at Gannon. Mister Hero is ready for the fight, and he’s pissed. “Fine. Let him go, and you’ll have your rematch.” 

“Win,” the giant hisses, leaning down enough that spit flies of his lips as he speaks and spatters over the hero’s cheeks, “and he’s all yours.” 

That seems to quiet the announcer too, who catches ahold of Ravio and surprisingly is met with no resistance as he tries dragging him away. The man’s strong, not as strong as the giant, but the merchant is hard pressed to get his hands free as he’s hauled across the stadium to a small platform where he’s quickly jerked to a stop. The voice of the announcer is even more painful up close and personal, and it rings over the crowd, announcing the change in competition, the foul play of a fake hero, but that the champion is in fact here now to defend his title. It’s all well and good, until he holds up Ravio’s hands and announces that the merchant is the “lovely prize” that the winner gets to take home. That’s too far, but unfortunately, Hood is back close at hand, offering to “mind the merchandise” so the announcer can attend to his actual duties. 

He’s had maybe ten minutes with his hands unbound, and despite the swings and every attempt to slip away, he finds himself once more tied up again as Mister Hero and the giant take their places across from each other in the ring. 

The crowd is well and truly losing their minds. 

Ravio himself is as well, worry building up as he watches. Yes, he knows his hero is capable, but this is a bit much. Ganon was one thing, Yuga too, because they used magic for most of their attacks. The presence of the huge axe, which would only take one swing to leave his friend in pieces, feels like so much more of a threat as he’s forced to just sit and watch. Well, not actually forced. Since no one’s doing more than keeping him from leaving, but he really does have to cover his eyes a few times as the giant’s weapon is raised and swung at the hero. Every time he dares to look though, Mister Hero is still standing. Blood paints the features of both fighters, but even Hood, at his side, whistles lowly a few times in a way he takes to mean his friend is doing surprisingly well. He's hard pressed to watch those moves though. That’s his hero in trouble, all because he’d gotten captured and hauled off to some strange country he’s never been to before.  

He is, perhaps, when they get back to Hyrule, consulting with Mister Hero’s smithy friend on getting a bigger knife. And lessons, he adds as he watches Link go flying over the giant’s head after performing a very impressive backspring, twisting in midair to swing his sword at the giant’s back. 

He’s watched the other train before, and he thinks Mister Hero calls that move a helm-splitter. It would make sense, given that if there was an armored helm to split, the force of that swing would most certainly have left it in pieces. A cry of pain rises from the giant as he spins around, just as the hylian hits the earth, rolling with the impact, quite literally, and all but bouncing back to his feet again the moment his momentum has run out. 

Mister Hero makes fighting look like a dance, and unconsciously, Ravio can pick up a subtle rhythm to his motions, a beat that’s followed like it’s a rule. It’s new, since he rarely sees any actual combat, and what he did was that one battle with their foes, not anything where the stakes were lesser than the fates of two kingdoms and all that lay within them. Here, all that’s on the line is his own safety, which he has no doubt the hero will preserve even if he did somehow lose, and the pride of his friend, which, considering all the other has already done in the name of saving others, probably isn’t nearly as much of a concern in the other’s head. Still, that desperation he’d seen turned on Ganon isn't here, if anything, Mister Hero is cold, closed off, face fixed in a stern look that’s only made lazing by the explosions of stars in his violet eyes. He’s fluid, twisting easily out of the way an not letting anything throw him off alance, off the steps of the unknown dance he’s crafted to use against his foe. 

And he makes the giant look like an incompetent idiot the whole while. 

Mister Hero’s laughter, not the wildly happy thing he’s seen once or twice, or the relieved desperation after everything was over and they were all safe, but a cold, cruel sort of sound that rings over the crowd, will sound after he avoids a blow. There’s damage done, yes; there’s blood flowing from injuries on both, but no full blow has landed on the hero, and he circles his prey as though he is the bigger, taunting and hissing, striking hard and fast and sure, feet gliding in the churned up dirt of the stadium, calling out to his opponent. 

It’s his way to know that Mister Hero is well and truly pissed. 

Buri is too, running, throwing his weight around, striking out in anger and missing, blinded by his rage as the hero glides out of reach and then flies forwards, blows landing hard and fast. 

Thye axe will lift and fall, and here and again, they do land close enough to tear skin and clothes, ort the edge will catch on the hero’s body just a second before he’s out of reach, leaving a stripe of crimson painted over sweat soaked skin. Still though, his hero doesn’t falter. One moment that great weapon is raised, Ravio shielding his eyes, and then there’s another hiss from his friend and he’s looking against to see blood flowing and feet moving, eyes flashing so bright they’re visible even from where he’s being kept like a trophy for the winner to claim. 

The dirt of the stadium is churned up all about, flecked with blood that’s quickly absorbed by already red stained dust. Feet shuffle, blades clang, and the shield of the hero raises, reflecting light into the eyes of onlookers.  

It’s one such flash of light that has him blinking, blinded, and opening his eyes a moment later to find that the hooded figure who’d hauled him here and now slumping across the ground before him. Another man, also hooded, but with red hair drifting over his eyes, flashes a smile at him. “Need an out there, mate?” 

It’s the same accent, but a deeper voice, and a kinder one, although it’s low with a whisper. A knife appears in one hand of the stranger, but it’s only turned to the rope on his hands.  

The announcer is too lost in his own shouting and excitement to even notice as the red-head catches Ravio by the hand- not the wrist or the neck, but the hand- and tugs him towards the door that separates the announcer’s space from the crowd. Quite frankly, he has no clue who this person is, but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so far, they’re not threatening him or anything, just holding tight as they weave through the crowd, pulling him along through the screaming onlookers and towards what looks like it might actually be an exit. 

“Where-” 

“Patience.”  

It’s not the thing he wants to hear from a stranger hauling him away, but again, the man isn’t being rough with him. He’s had he continues too, because once the scream of the crowd fades and they’ve darted down a stair to a space below the seats, he sees some actually familiar faces waiting for him. 

“Mister Captain Hero Sir!” 

“Ravio!” The blonde spins about at the sound of his voice, relief washing over lovely features as he darts over, scarf billowing beautifully with the motion. A sturdy hand catches his shoulder, blue eyes flitting up and over him in a familiar once over that leaves both of them a little more at ease. 

“You’re okay!” Tune- Wind (he’s got to get that straight) throws his arms around him, and eagerly, Ravio hugs him back. He doesn’t get to hug long though, as the young sailor bounces back with furrowed brows, staring up the short distance between them with a faint frown. “How did you get away? The fight isn’t over yet!” 

The clearing of a throat has all the heroes glancing behind the merchant, eyes falling on his strange savior. “That would be me.” 

“And you are?” Mister Captain Hero asks, guarded and already looking ready to grab for his sword on the off chance that a fee be demanded for the merchant’s release. There’s no such request though. 

“A friend of your hero’s,” the red-head answers. “He can vouch for me once he’s finished kicking that idiot’s ass. I must say, his distraction worked nicely.” 

The question of ‘what distraction’ lingers in his head, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask it because, even if the sound of the crowds is dimmed from below, the mighty roar that sounds from above stops anyone from hearing anything else. 

The stranger smirks. “And that’s the idiot downed, I daresay.” 

As it turns out, he’s right. It’s only a moment or so more and Mister Hero is suddenly coming up to them, clutching one arm and bloodied to a concerning degree, but that’s all cast aside as the hero all but flies over and throws his arms around the merchant, grip almost painful for how tight it is. “Thank God you’re okay, you idiot.” 

“Oh, so you’re close friends,” the posh sounding voice of teh stranger chuckles. “I ought to have guessed.” 

He can feel the stiffening of the hero’s whole frame, but long ears prick forwards with an eagerness that’s not spoken at the sight of the redhead. “Ralph.” 

“Link.” 

“Thanks for grabbing him for me.” 

“My pleasure.” the man smirks. “You did put on such a lovely show, i don’t think anyone even noticed he was gone, they were so fixated on you.” 

A grin, sharp and bloodied from the busted nose his friend has acquired, is flashed, and that’s what ends the conversation as Mister Captain Hero steps in and demands they start treating Mister Hero’s injuries. The stranger, whom his doppelganger continues to address as ‘Ralph’, also demands that once first aid has been finished- which he takes no qualms in swiping off his gloves to aid with- they come ack with him to a “safer place to catch your breathes”. It’s a welcome thought, especially as Mister Hero agrees without question; a sure sign that it’s alright, for his friend would never agree if it was in any ways a risk. 

There’s questions, as they work to tend the rather copious amounts of cuts. What happened, why was Ravio captured, how does Mister Hero the giant, know the red-head, and of course what is going on in general. They’re all shut down though by the man called Ralph, who says there’s a time and a place for stories, but not while stopping someone from bleeding out. in Ravio’s experienced opinion, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it does a decent job of granted a bit of silence to those doing wound care. 

Once the worst is tended, they’re heading out, moving quickly to avoid the crowds and the announcer who will no doubt have something to say to the veteran hero.  

Mister Hero keeps a hold of his hand the whole time they slip from the stadium, and even once they’re on the street, following the hero’s red-headed friend, he doesn’t let go. 

“No arguments,” the voice of his housemate is strained as it hisses between them, under still straining breathes but not exactly secretive, “when we get time, I’m teaching you to fight.” 

“Please.” he’d argued about it before, but quite frankly? He regrets that. “If something like this happens again, I don’t want to be useless.” 

One shoulder, the one that wasn’t nicked y the axe, checks against his own, dark eyes sparking as they tur on him. “This, will never happen again, okay? Never.” 

“But something similar-” 

“Ravio, I’m not letting anyone do that.” Violet hold green like the skies cradling the earth, only to break away a moment later with a huff. “But for pities sakes, there’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep knowing you’re as likely to hurt yourself with your weapon as you are someone else.” 

Rude! “You should have seen me in the war! My hammer wrecked quite the decent amount of destruction!” 

“Sure it did.” 

“I’m serious, Mister Hero!” 

But even for their words, the tone of his otherworldly twin is light, warm, and- for the hero at least- fond. 

He’s okay. They’re okay. Everything is going to be fine, and the only ones who aren’t are likely the giant and the announcer, who will have hell to pay from the crowd if Ravio was reading the situation right. Good riddance to bad rubbish though, and Mister Hero agrees with a tired laugh when he says as much. 

[coffee-and-quill]

Birthday Wishes Pt. 2

Stucky x Reader: You have been feeling neglected lately, but Bucky and Steve promised they would be there for your birthday. When they don’t show up, you are left feeling broken, and they are left wondering how they will every make it up to you

Authors Note: It took a long time to figure out how I wanted to end this. Relationships are hard, they are constant work and give/take. It takes communication and understanding for all parties to feel heard and loved. I hope y’all enjoy, and please let me know if there’s anything else you would like to see from me!

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It had been three weeks since Steve had seen you, talked to you, held you in his arms. Three weeks of radio silence, and it was killing him. He and Bucky had gone to your parent’s house the morning after they discovered you were missing. As if they weren’t feeling awful enough, the icy look your mother had given them so different from the warm, caring smile they were used to, sent shockwaves through their chests. Steve had begged to talk to you, but your mother had told them that you had left early that morning. You were going somewhere they couldn’t find you or bother you. When Bucky had tried to get more information, she had slammed the door in their faces.

              It took two more days of searching and desperation to figure out that Tony had helped you go completely off grid. “It’s not my place to tell you where she is, you shouldn’t have fucked up this bad,” the billionaire had told them when they tried to force your location out of him. He wasn’t wrong, and that set a heavy weight on their chests like nothing they had never felt before.

              Steve tried to go back to work, but every time he tried to buckle down and focus, or to accept a mission, he thought of your face. What if you wanted to talk to them? What if you came back and he was so caught up in his work again that he lost you for good? He might have already lost you, and the thought alone was enough to bring him to his knees gasping for breath. He felt small, smaller than he’d ever felt in his life. He would take being a sickly, scrawny kid in the 40s over these feelings any day. It got to the point where Fury told him to go home and not come back until his head was in the game again. “At this rate,” the director had grumbled, “You’re likely to get yourself or someone else seriously hurt if you continue as you are.” Steve didn’t argue. Instead, he slumped home, collapsed on the couch, and sobbed. Pain and heartbreak were the only things he knew anymore.

              Bucky was no better. After the acceptance that there was no finding you until you wanted to be found, the former assassin completely shut down. He barely ate and never slept anymore. How could he when there was the constant reminder that you were no longer in his life, no longer snuggled safely between Steve and him. The nightmares came back full force. He had almost forgotten what it was like to wake up screaming in a cold sweat. Now, instead of visuals of Hydra and the chair, and the blood and death that followed him like a storm, he had nightmare of you telling him you were done with him. You told him with a stone face that you’d never loved him, that you could never love a murderer, and you left with him begging and screaming on the floor. During the day he stayed in bed. He felt useless and weak, so, so weak. He was used to suffering, used to the constant weight of guilt on his chest. But this, this feeling, this guilt was far worse. People are constantly telling him that his actions as the Winter Soldier were not his fault, but this was all on him. There was no scapegoat, no evil organizations pulling the strings, no excuses, no one else to blame but himself. He was the reason you were gone, and it was destroying him.

 ()()()()()()()()()

                Three weeks, and you were feeling like absolute shit. You barely slept, ate only what you could unwrap in seconds, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t showered in at least a week. You couldn’t tell what day it was; time seemed to slip and slide together in a meaningless fuzz in your mind. Most days found you on the small couch of the cabin Tony had so graciously offered you, the TV on a low hum in the background playing some sort of celebrity reality program. Not that you really cared. Nothing really held your interest for long anyway. Your thoughts were stuck back in your apartment with your boys. You kept replaying the better times over and over, trying to figure out where you went wrong.

Back when you first got together, Steve and Bucky had been so sweet, so shy when bringing up the idea, so afraid that you would turn them away and they would lose the best thing that had happened to them since they were reunited. When you told them you wanted to give it a try, they had been ecstatic. Their excitement was infectious, buzzing around you like two overenergized puppies who had just been given the best treats of their lives. Those first few months had been blissful, none of you willing to be parted from the other longer than a day or so. You went on dates, ate crappy Chinese food together, snuggled up to each other on the cold nights.

You were crying again thinking about those times. You missed being with your boys more than ever, missed the connection and the feeling of safety and security. You missed the two people who knew you better than you could ever know yourself. You had been stuck on a loop for the past three weeks. Where did it go wrong? When did it happen and how did you not notice? Was it you? God, if you could only talk to them. You had so many questions, so many concerns. Mostly, however, you just wanted a hug. You just wanted to be held between your Stevie and your Bucky and you wanted to feel loved.

It had been around midday, after shoving down a lukewarm hot pocket, that you heard the front door of the cabin click open.

“Damn,” came the snarky voice of Tony Stark, “You look worse than I did after that one Easter party I threw.” Even through the fog in your brain, you couldn’t help but smile.

“That was your own fault, Stark,” you sassed, “Who the hell takes that many tequila shots at a brunch party?”

The billionaire scoffed. “Obviously you have no sense of danger, babe.” You flipped him the finger. “So,” he said, lifting your feet up so he could make himself comfortable on the cushy couch, “It’s obvious to me and to literally everyone else that something went on between you and the two super stooges back home. And by the way they have been moping around the tower and by the grease buildup in Barnes’ hair, they are fairing about as well as you.”

Your ears perked up at the information. You should feel satisfied that Steve and Bucky were feeling miserable for what they did. You should feel relieved that they are getting a taste of what they put you through. Instead, you just felt your heart sink into your stomach. No matter how angry you were at them, you could never stand the thought of them in pain.

“I’m not saying the two don’t deserve it,” Tony continued, “I’m just saying that if your going to make them suffer, at least do it in a way that you aren’t suffering as well.”

“I don’t want to make them suffer,” came you soft reply.

“No?”

“I was hurt.” The tears that had been gathering in your eye dripped down your face at your watery tone. “I was hurt, and angry, and I just felt like I had to run to escape those feelings, so I came here. But the longer I stayed, the less hurt and angry I felt. And then the sadness and loneliness came and I felt like I was drowning, and all I wanted was to be back with them. But I had already stayed away for so long. What if they don’t want me anymore? Or they think we can fix things? What if they realize they aren’t willing to try, Tony? I don’t think I could handle that.”

Tony scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a huge breath. “I can’t answer those questions for you, sweetheart. Lord knows if I could take the pain away, I would. But nothing is going to happen with you sitting here and refusing to talk to them.” You nodded, knowing that what he was saying was logical. You couldn’t solve anything by sitting around and moping, and lord knows you won’t solve anything by running away.

You took a deep breath “Ok. I’m ready to come home.”

“Good.” Tony stood up and adjusted his suit. “Because honestly, the boys have start loitering outside my lab looking like a couple of drowned kittens, and it’s depressing everyone.” He held out his hand for you, which you graciously took, standing and hissing out your cramped muscles. Tony took one step towards the door before stopping suddenly and turning back. “Maybe you should shower first. You stink like that casserole Clint tried to make for dinner that one time.”

Tony barely dodged the chipped mug thrown at his head.

 ()()()()()()()()()

                When you showed up to the apartment you shared with Bucky and Steve, your nerves had been on fire. Steve had opened the door looking he hadn’t slept since you had seen him last. His eyes widened and his arms twitched towards you instinctively, wanting to wrap you in in them and never let go. He held himself back, though it left a deep ache in his chest to do so. You wanted nothing more to go to him, to card you fingers through his hair and reassure him that everything was fine, that you were here and you would never leave again. You had to clutch the straps of your bag until your knuckles were white to stop yourself.

              “We need to talk.” Your voice was small, fragile. You wanted to run and hide all over again, but you knew this needed to be done. Steve nodded jerkily, widening the door to allow you to enter. Visually, everything looked the same; the couch was in the living room, blankets thrown haphazardly across the back, and the table sat in the kitchen with its three mismatched chairs and well-loved surface. However, as you moved further into the space, you noticed a staleness to the air that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t a home anymore, and the thought made you frown deeply.

              Steve closed the door softly behind you. “I’ll go get Bucky,” he murmured, and you shivered. God help you, you were so in love with these men. Even tired and beat down, Steve’s voice still had an effect on you. It reminded you of soft kisses over bare skin in the early morning hours before the rest of the world was awake, of tender love and honey sweet words spoken between breathy moans.

              You pushed the memory to the back of your mind as Steve reentered, Bucky following close behind. You felt your breath catch at his appearance. He looked broken. Dark circles fell under lightless eyes, the grief and despair that sat heavy on his shoulders was visible in the hunch he wore, as if he was being physically crushed by its weight. You could have honestly cried if it were a different situation.

              At the sight of you standing in the living room, he cracked a smile that looked almost painful. “Hey, Doll. I missed you,” he rasped. Hi voice was scratchy and rough from crying. Despite the somber tension that hung in the room like mist, you felt a sense of peace wash over you at the presence of your boys. Despite your nerves, despite your fears and reservations, you smiled at them. The tension melted from Bucky and Steve’s shoulders, and you knew everything would be okay. You could do this.

 ()()()()()()()()()

                The three of you spent hours talking. You told them everything: your fear of being left behind and forgotten, your frustrations with always feeling second place to the duties as avengers, the anger of that night and the emotions of the last three weeks. In turn, they shared their guilt and frustration at their own actions. They told you how they felt that being avengers was the only thing they could do to help people, it was the only thing they knew, and they had been scared to deviate from that routine, even when it had started pushing you away. They shared the fear they felt at finding you gone, and the terror and grief that had set in when they realized you might not come back and that was it for the three of you. Finally, they shared their confession that nothing they had done or would ever do as avengers would be more important than you. They wanted to change, to get better. They wanted to do it for you.

              What started as you sitting across from them quickly transitioned into the three of you cuddled together on the couch, seemingly one entity. Weeks of no contact had starved the boys of your touch, and they couldn’t remove themselves from you if they wanted to. Bucky lay across you legs with his head in your lap, his arms wrapped around your waist. You hand was tangled in his hair, massaging the base of his skull. Your other hand was gripped tightly in Steve’s as you leaned back into his broad chest. His blond head rested comfortably on your shoulder, turned inward to whisper his apologies into the exposed skin of your neck. Every once and a while he would leave a lingering kiss there, the skin tingling nonstop from the feel of his lips. You felt more relaxed than you had in weeks. That night you fell asleep in your bed, bracketed by the two most important people in your life. You would be okay.

[aecs-multy]

Even in the darkest hour, we will find the light

Summary:

When Arthur discovers that Merlin has magic, things go downhill fast, but sometimes you need to reach rock bottom to get up stronger than ever.

---

He was tired. As the last bandit fell to the floor barely five meters in front of him, all the energy left his body. Around him were the unconscious bodies of men and women alike, the bodies of those who had tried to hurt them. They had been too many. He knew there had been no way that they had gotten out of the ambush alive if he hadn’t used his magic.

He also knew that there was no way that Arthur hadn’t seen him using it. Slowly, he lowered his hand, that had been pointing at the last bandit he had knocked out. He was so, so tired. He didn’t want to turn around, he didn’t want to see the hurt, the anger, the hatred, the betrayal that would be in those blue eyes he had learned to love.

Merlin’s vision got blurry, but it wasn’t until a lonely tear run down his cheek that he understood why. He was crying. Right in that moment, he had lost everything. He lost his life, his home, his family, his friends, his soulmate. All his life hiding, doing things from the shadows, completely alone, without people that understood him because he couldn’t let them in, for it to end like this.

I should have let that last one kill me, Merlin thought, Arthur wouldn’t have any problem defeating him and I wouldn’t have to turn around and see him now. He almost wanted to laugh. To think that he didn’t want to even look at Arthur right now because it would hurt too much to see what his king was thinking.

The point of a sword was placed between his shoulder plates and he stuttered a breath. This was it. He was going to die by the sword of the man he had sworn to protect, by the sword of the man he loved. His destiny was going to be his end. At least I won’t have to face him, he thought with a trembling smile while another tear fell.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, and his tone was cold, sharper than the sword that threatened to pierce him. “Turn around.”

He gulped and closed his eyes. It took him what seemed like hours to do as he was told, his body trembling with the chill that had suddenly filled his bones, feeling so cold that not even his hysteric beating heart could warm him.

“Open your eyes.”

He shook his head and pressed his eyelids harder together, willing himself to not break down. When he felt the sword reach his throat, he let a pained gasp fall from his lips.

“I said open your eyes.” Each word was said slowly and punctuated with added pressure of the metal against his skin, until a small drop of blood run down his neck.

He did as he was told, but the moment his eyes landed on Arthur’s, he wish he hadn’t, that he had kept them closed and died without the image that would now haunt him during what little he had left of live and during his death.

Those beautiful eyes were shining with unshed tears, full of those emotions he had put there, and he would give his life to make them go away. Arthur was gripping the hilt of the sword with both hands, in a position he had seen him do many times during his training and their adventures. The difference was that his hands were trembling now. It was barely noticeable, but Merlin knew him better than anyone.

“You have magic,” he said.

It wasn’t a question, but Merlin answered with a weak voice anyways, “Yes.”

“All… all this time, you... you’ve been lying to me,” Arthur said, his voice quivering. “I trusted you, I… I let you in, you were my servant, but also my advisor and friend, I… how could you do this to me?”

“I-” he tried to reply, but nothing came out of his mouth. He wanted to say a lot of things, but Arthur wouldn’t believe him, not now, not ever again, and proof of that was how he pressed the sword harder against him, making him hiss in pain.

He kept staring at Arthur’s eyes for seconds, minutes, hours, days? He didn’t know, but none of them moved or looked away. Finally, Arthur put Excalibur down. “I banish you from Camelot, you have until midnight to cross the frontier, if you ever return, you’ll burn in the pyre.”

His whole expression changed as he covered his emotions with a mask, not letting them show, and that was worse than seeing how much pain he had caused him.

“No,” Merlin said, his voice surprisingly strong, but being banished and separated from Arthur would be a fate worse than death. Determination filled him and he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let Arthur send him away. If he had to die, then so be it, but he wouldn’t that which made him whole.

A flicker of anger went through Arthur’s eyes before he could control himself. “What did you say?” Arthur asked between gritted teeth.

“I won’t go away.”

Arthur took a step closer, making them stand with their noses almost touching, but they had never been further apart, and said, “Then you’ll die, is that what you want?”

“No, but the only thing that will separate me from you will be my death,” he said. Merlin turned around and put his hands behind his back, wrists together, presenting them to Arthur to tie them. “I will be by your side until my last breath, until my heart stops beating, so don’t tell me to go, because your face will be the last thing my eyes will see when my world fades to darkness and your name will be the last word my lips will utter.”

“Then you leave me no choice.”

He felt something hit the back of his head, and then he fell, unconscious.

oOoOo

They were all seated in their respective places in the round table, but Gwaine couldn’t help but feel itchy, ready to fight at any moment. Something wasn’t right, he knew it because no one else was in the room but them, and neither were guards outside of the door like there would be any other day. What made him feel worse, though, was the lack of Merlin.

Their friend was always there, even if he wasn’t a knight, and not because he was Arthur's servant. He was always there because he was their friend and even if Arthur would never admit it, they often came to him for advice.

That’s why he knew something was wrong, because Arthur wouldn’t have called them all without Merlin being there, not unless something had happened to their friend. As he looked around, he saw the confused and worried expression of the rest of the knights, mirroring his own.

As soon as Arthur sat, he spoke, “Merlin is a sorcerer.”

With those four words, all the blood left Gwaine’s face. He knew what those words meant, but he refused to believe them. Merlin wasn’t a sorcerer, he was his best friend, he would know. No, Merlin wasn’t a sorcerer.

The silence in the room was deafening, everyone looking around, as if expecting someone to burst out laughing and tell them it was a lie.

“He isn’t a sorcerer, Arthur, how could he? He is Merlin,” Lancelot said, some kind of urgency laced to his words. Gwaine saw that, of all of them, he seemed the most affected by the statement. Lancelot looked as if he had seen a ghost, panic clear in his face, his hands trembling where they rested in fists over the table.

“I saw him myself doing magic, I saw how he defeated 20 bandits with just movements of his hands right in front of me. Merlin is a sorcerer,” Arthur said without looking at them, staring at the door.

“He isn’t,” Gwaine said. “He can’t be.”

“He is.”

“No, he isn’t, because that would mean that he will have to die, and that won’t happen,” Gwaine said fiercely. He wouldn’t let his best friend die.

“He betrayed Camelot, he used magic. I offered him banishment, but he said that he would rather die than go away,” Arthur said, his tone was low, but full of ice and betrayal and it echoed in the room. “He will burn in the pyre first thing in the morning.”

Gwaine didn’t waste a second, he got up and drew his sword. He said, “You won’t touch a hair of his head.”

Arthur didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. “He is accused of treason to his king, of using magic and letting it corrupt him. Both of those crimes are sentenced with death.”

“Treason of what?!” Gwaine shouted angrily, hitting the table with his free hand, leaning on it. “He is the most loyal person you will ever meet, more loyal than all of us together, and not because of a lack of loyalty in our part. He has gone to countless dangerous places for you, done a hundred million things to keep you safe and to protect you. He is the bravest man Camelot has ever seen, and all you give him in exchange is burn him to death?!” He was breathing shakily and his jaw hurt. “If you want to hurt him, you will have to kill me first.”

“Then I accuse you of treason and will die alongside Merlin,” Arthur said, his gaze now in Gwaine.

“Then I shall burn with them.” It was Lancelot who spoke now, and Gwaine noticed that he had stood up and drawn his sword at some point too. “I knew of Merlin’s magic since the first day I came to Camelot.”

Arthur looked at him now, his eyes full of hatred and his words dripping poison when he said, “You knew?”

“I did,” Lancelot said. “You want to know what he used the magic for when I discovered it? To save Camelot from the Griffin. To save you. All those times branches feel on our enemies’ heads, all those times we lost the enemy, all those times he guided us in the right direction, he use magic to help us.”

“Am I surrounded by traitors now?!” Arthur shouted standing up, looking at the rest of the knights, that cowered under the anger that radiated from their king.

“No, you’re surrounded by friends.” Surprisingly, it was Leon who talked. “I didn’t know about Merlin’s magic, but I do know him. I don’t believe that he is evil, nor a monster, nor corrupted. He was your friend, and so are we, and that’s the reason why we stand by your side, but sometimes we must stand against you to make you see reason. That’s why you trust us, because we aren’t afraid of telling you what we think. If you wanted someone to lick your boots and kiss the floor you step on then you would have sacked Merlin a long time ago in the first place.”

Arthur looked more and more enraged by the moment. “Merlin is a sorcerer,” he said through gritted teeth, as if that was the answer to all their problems.

“So what?!” Gwaine asked. “He is our friend and he would never hurt us or Camelot. He is so devoted to you that he would go to the mouth of hell just to make you smile!”

“He lied to all of us!”

“And can’t you imagine why he did that?! In Camelot, if you use or have magic, you die. What did you want him to do, come and tell you?!” Gwaine argued.

Arthur shouted, “Yes!”

“He couldn’t because if he did, you would have killed him, like you are going to do now!”

“I don’t want to kill him!” Arthur said, his voice breaking at the end, and now Gwaine saw what was happening. Arthur had been told all his life that magic corrupted whoever used it, but now that Merlin was the one he had to sentence to death, he was conflicted in his beliefs.

“Then don’t,” Gwaine said softer. “Magic is just a tool, not better or worse than a sword. It’s the one that yields it who choses how to use it. Do you believe that Merlin, and forget for a second that he has magic, would ever betray Camelot, betray you?”

The silence that followed then was answer enough. “We all know Merlin, he wouldn’t hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it.” Percival said.

“And what should I do?”

“Go to the dungeons, tell Merlin that he’s free and he won’t die, tell him that you are going to lift the ban against magic, tell him he’s no longer your servant, and when he has a fit about it, and we all know he will have one because only someone like him would want to be your servant, then you tell him that he’s now the court sorcerer.” Gwaine said.

“I can’t just lift the ban against magic, a lot of people wouldn’t be happy with that and they will demand a reason.”

Gwaine was happy to hear that the only thing he complained about was what people would think. Arthur appreciated Merlin more than he would let himself believe. “Then tell them it’s for Merlin, half of Camelot likes him, the other half loves him and would kill you if you put him anywhere near a pyre.” Gwaine shrugged.

“This isn’t a time for jokes.” Arthur sat down with a heavy sigh.

“It doesn’t need to be made in the span of a day, it will take months, maybe years, but erasing the ban against magic will be what we will aim for, starting with the erasure of the death penalty,” Leon said, always the pacifist and the voice of reason.

“Merlin betrayed me,” Arthur said, probably more to himself than to the knights, and before Gwaine could argue, Lancelot talked.

“He didn’t. Is it betrayal to do something with the objective of protecting their king and kingdom? Is it betrayal to hide something to avoid their death? Is it betrayal to risk their life for the people they love?” Lancelot said.

“We can’t kill Merlin,” Elyan, that had been silent until then, said. “It would be wrong.”

Arthur stared at his hands, thinking, until he said, “I want to be left alone, no one is to disturb me unless it’s an emergency.”

Everyone looked at the rest of the knights, unsure of what to do, not wanting to disobey their king but worried about their friend in the dungeons too. Gwaine wouldn’t move unless Arthur promised that he wouldn’t kill Merlin.

“I’ll go and free Merlin myself, now go,” Arthur said, addressing what everyone was thinking, and one by one, the knights left. All but Gwaine.

“I know your father always told you that magic was evil, but, Arthur, Merlin needs you right now. I can’t begin to imagine how lonely his life might have been, hiding something so important about himself. If you ever tell anyone, I will deny it, but I’m begging you, don’t be a prat, because if anyone can break him, it’s you.”

He didn’t let Arthur answer, he was out of the door before his words could take effect, praying that his friends would find a solution to their differences.

oOoOo

With each step he took down the stairs he willed his beating heart to calm down. He had went to countless battles, fought against thousands of enemies, lead armies to victory, killed mythical beasts, but nothing had terrified him as much as this.

“I want to talk to the prisoner alone,” Arthur said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. The guards nodded and walked away.

He hesitated one, two, three times before he got the courage to walk in front of the cell where Merlin was. The sorcerer was sitting on the corner, his legs pulled to his chest, his arms around them and his chin resting on his knees, his gaze unfocused. His eyes were red from crying, his face was so pale that Arthur thought he was going to faint at any giving moment.

He had never seen Merlin like this, as if the life had been drawn out of him and nothing was left, just the shell of the bubbly man he had learn to love. Arthur still had problems believing it, that Merlin could use magic, that he could conjure such power.

The knights were right, Merlin didn’t deserve to die, he deserved every good thing the world had. He was the kindest, selfless, most loyal, bravest and strongest person in the whole kingdom. And yet, he had imprisoned him because Merlin had saved his life.

All the things Uther had said about magic, how it corrupted people, how it made them evil and dangerous, how they had to get rid of them, it had to be wrong. Everything he thought he knew about magic from his father was wrong. He didn’t know what to believe anymore, he was starting to doubt all the things he had learnt in his life.

His world was turning upside down, and the only person he wanted to be with was in a cell, where he had put him.

“Merlin,” he said, and talking now seemed like the hardest task of all, but he managed to choke his best friend’s name out of his lips.

The sorcerer looked up, a sad smile on his lips. “Is it time?”

Arthur felt sick. How could Merlin look at him, smiling, and accept his death without a fight? After what he saw at the forest, he knew that Merlin could have escaped, could have threatened him, or done something. But no, Merlin was there, sitting, looking miserable and staring at Arthur with trust and love in his eyes.

“It is,” he said with a shaky voice. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, but he blinked them away. He wanted to know what to do, he wanted a solution, he wanted to go back in time and not know anything about Merlin’s magic because that way he wouldn’t have so many problems.

“It’s okay, I’ll look after you and Camelot even when I’m gone,” Merlin said, his smile so genuine that Arthur had to grab the bars from the cell to keep himself from falling down when his knees became weak.

“It’s- it’s not okay,” he said softly, voice choked with emotion. He didn’t like showing emotion, he didn’t like being vulnerable, but this was Merlin. Merlin, who had stood by his side even at the worst of times. Merlin, who had broken down his walls and disarmed him with smiles. Merlin, who had been loyal to him all this time. Merlin, who had seen him broken down and, instead of taking advantage of that, he had built him back together. Merlin, who treated him like a person, like a friend, and not like a king. Merlin, who had magic and had used it to save Arthur even when that meant he would be accused of sorcery and condemned to death.

Merlin, who he trusted with his life and who he loved more than he loved himself.

He could be vulnerable around Merlin, because even now, Merlin still believed in him, he could see it in his eyes.

“I- I don’t know what to do, Merlin,” he said, his eyes glued to Merlin’s, pleading him and asking for some kind of solution to this mess.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, standing up and almost falling when his legs gave out. He managed to recover and walked to stand before him. “You might be the king, but you don’t need to have all the answers.”

“That doesn’t help, so just tell me what to do,” Arthur pleaded.

“Well, it’s nice to see that you’re still a prat, barking orders. One might think that after all this years you would have learnt that I never do as asked,” Merlin said, and somehow, Arthur chuckled despite himself. He bowed his head and looked at his feet, a tear falling to the floor, between his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why? I like being here, at least I don’t have an annoying dollophead bossing me around,” Merlin joked, his tone light, but it did nothing to lighten Arthur’s heart.

“I’ve been horrible to you, haven’t I?” Arthur asked, although he didn’t need Merlin to answer, he already knew it would be a ‘yes’. He had treated Merlin horrible at times just because he felt pressured to keep his servant at arm’s length, because he was the king, and a king couldn’t be friends with his servant. Never mind that to him Merlin was much more than a friend.

“No,” Merlin said, and Arthur felt hands over his a second later. When he looked up, Merlin was watching him with so much emotion that Arthur felt dizzy. “You might be a royal prat, and bossy, but you’re also my friend. I know you, Arthur, and I know you care about me, you don’t need to say it for me to know it. You would have sacked me a long time ago if it weren’t because of our friendship, because let’s be honest, I’m the worst servant ever.”

“You are,” Arthur chuckled wetly, a few more tears running down his cheeks.

“You may not have the answer to this, but I’m certain that whatever you do will be the right thing. I believe in you.”

“How can you say that when you’re locked in a cell because of me?” Arthur asked. He wondered how it was possible that Merlin was the one consoling him and not the other way.

“Because I love you,” Merlin said, his cheeks slowly reddening with a blush. “I have loved you for a long time now and I never told you because I was afraid of losing you. You’re destined to great things, too, and I trust that you’ll unite Albion and lead everyone to a time of prosperity and peace like never before.”

He knew he should say something back, like how he felt the same and that they could rule together one day, that if he was destined to great things would only be because he had Merlin by his side, but he couldn’t make a sound. When Merlin gave him another sad smile and took a step back, Arthur didn’t think, he just reacted.

He grabbed Merlin’s face and joined their lips, doing what he had wanted to do for a really long time. At first, he could feel the surprise in the sorcerer in the way he tensed, but when Arthur didn’t let go or pushed him away, he relaxed, and finally, the kiss was reciprocated. It was uncomfortable with the metal bars pressing in his cheeks, but all that mattered was how much he loved Merlin and the soft lips that moved at the same time that his.

Shivers ran down his spine and a tingling sensation spread through his body with each caress of their lips. His heart wanted nothing more than escaping the confines of his body and go to Merlin, because the sorcerer was its real owner. The feeling of the metal bars disappeared suddenly and hands moved to cup his face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. Arthur’s arms circled around Merlin’s waist and pushed them flushed together until they were chest to chest, an urgency to touch him filling his bones. He could have lost Merlin because of his own stupidity, and he needed to know that Merlin was there, with him

“I’m sorry,” Arthur gasped when they broke the kiss to get some air, their foreheads pressed together. “I love you, too.”

“I got as much from the kiss,” Merlin said cheekily, his breath coming in puffs that tickled Arthur’s lips.

“Shut up,” Arthur laughed.

“We both know you don’t actually want me to shut up,” Merlin said, moving his head to look at him, an eyebrow raised in a way that made him look like Gaius.

“I don’t want you to change. I want you to always be you. Magic or not,” Arthur admitted, staring back at Merlin’s blue eyes and begging him to understand how much he meant those words. “You’ll have to teach me so that I can understand, but I can’t kill you, I could never do that to you.”

“I’ll tell you everything, I promise, even what I don’t want to say,” Merlin said seriously, but his eyes were full of happiness.

In that moment, Arthur noticed that with Merlin by his side, they could fix this, because they had always done things together. The reason why he couldn’t find a solution was because he needed his other half to guide him.

“Where are the bars of the cell?” Arthur asked when he looked around.

“I… made them disappear?” Merlin said, his eyes wide and innocent. It was such a Merlin thing to do that Arthur wondered how he could ever think that the sorcerer was evil. The knights were right and he would have never forgiven himself if he had sent Merlin to the pyre.

“Of course you did,” Arthur said, shaking his head in amusement. “Everything will be alright, won’t it?”

“It will, Arthur,” Merlin said, kissing him softly once again. “It will.”

[alicemitch09writes]

lame

02.

everything has changed (whether we like it or not)

When did everything change?

That was an easy question to answer, really. But there was more to it.

Everything could go back to the time Bakugouu first discovered his quirk in kindergarten, he had just turned 5, during playtime, he playfully shoved you before you felt force, heat – an explosion, before faceplanting to the ground.

Little Izuku ran towards you, helping you off your feet. Meeting the panicked look in your best friend’s eyes, you turned back to the blond, staring at his palms in awe, at the little explosions emitting off his sweat.

Funny enough, whenever he sweats, it was always sweet-smelling, never foul or salty.

“Uwah, amazing quirk, Katsuk!” your teacher said, kneeling down to give your best friend an appraising look.

Carmine eyes looked up from his palm, tiny explosives going off excitedly.

“Cool! His quirk’s so cool!”

“It’s so radical, just like him!”

Beside you, Izuku’s eyes sparkled with excitement, happy for your best friend for finally manifesting his own quirk.

“Kacchan’s amazing!”

Discovering your quirk at such a young age, especially with an amazing quirk, should be exciting. However, the look in Katsuki’s carmine eyes was scaring you.

The more he was praised for his quirk, the more his explosions went off, the more the gleam in his eyes was scaring you.

Who is…? What is this?

“Ah, I see. I’m just awesome, and everyone else isn’t!”

Later that day, a small burnt mark was found at the back of your neck. A tell-tale reminder of what’s to come.

And then, Izuku found out that he was quirkless.

It was supposed to be a secret between the three of you, but somehow, everyone caught wind of it and began avoiding Izuku, lest they get caught with his ‘quirkless’ germs. Because you were with him a lot, not showing signs of quirk, kids easily assumed that the quirkless germs were true.

Was that when things changed?

After kindergarten, Katsuki found himself a new set of friends, those who weren’t quirkless like you and Izuku, friends who had cool quirks that could considerably pass up to his.

Since discovering his quirk, not only did it fuel his ego, but it also put a strain on your once impenetrable and inseparable friendship.

Now, he was more bent on being the best of the best, together with his amazing quirk that’ll surely bring him there no problem.

Everyone else were just beneath him, not worth his time, effort, or breath. Especially Deku – how you detested that nickname, so full of malice, disgust, and mockery – everything Izuku didn’t deserve, especially from his once best friend.

Since then, he’s deserted the two of you.

You didn’t care, you had Izuku.

Fuck Bakugou and his new quirk, ambition, and shittiness.

You didn’t need him anyway.

From: Izuku

To: (Name)

(Nickname)! I’m doing well. Just having lunch with my classmates right now!

[image.txt]

Tapping the photo, you could see Izuku smiling at the camera with a few friends in the shot – the brown-haired girl, Uraraka Ochako, the bespectacled boy, Iida Tenya, and the quiet boy, too busy eating his soba, Todoroki Shouto. It made you smile in return, having your own lunch as of texting. 

To: Izuku

From: (Name)

You better eat up, then. You hear me?

Also, stop being so reckless and take care, okay?

Right after the events at UA – the whole League of Villains intercepting the school, Izuku was, more than ever, always brought to the clinic. And you, being one of his immediate contacts (next to his mom), would rush over just to check on him, fighting a tooth and nail just to be with him. And time and time again, Izuku would give you an apologetic smile, matched with his unyielding assuring words, kind eyes, and warm hug.

The only thing you ever hated about Izuku is his recklessness, wrought by his strong sense of justice.

Having enough of everything he’s been through, it was only fair that he revealed something to you, something to explain a bit of him getting accepted at one of the most prestigious schools in Japan while bearing an almost enduring and testy quirk, a secret he knew he could only entrust to you because you were one of the few people Izuku trusted more than anything in the world – his quirk was not his, but it was passed down to him by All Might.

The revelation was shocking to you, especially because it was tied along with so many other factors you couldn’t begin to fathom. But with enough explanation, eventually, everything seemed to tie together and make better sense.

Although worried about his well-being, once again, Izuku was quick to assure you that he was working his best to make everyone – not just his idol, All Might – proud and safe. That was more than enough for you.

Still, it was such a big secret to bear. But, obviously, he trusted you, because you were his best friend.

Well, you and that other guy, for some reason.

"(Name)-san, you're going to snap that broom in half!" your co-worker called out.

Loosening your hold, you inspected the wood, glad to see that it was still intact. It was still three minutes past four, you realize, just a few minutes before dusk.

Sighing, you turned to your co-worker with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Otoha, just got something on my mind."

Izuku did tell Bakugouu his secret in a roundabout way, the blond would at least catch on to that, being a smart asshole. You just couldn’t wrap your head at the idea of having to entrust him Izuku’s big secret.

The younger girl tilts her head to the side, in thought, as she stares at you. "Are you sure? You seem to be out of it since this morning."

"Yeah, I am. Promise."

Right after revealing his secret, Izuku had planned to have you and the famed Symbol of Peace meet – to assure both parties. But you declined, knowing how busy hero work was.

(Also, to be in his presence would be something. You couldn’t deal with that. Izuku going a mile about how amazing he was made up for it.)

However, with the newfound information given to you, it was almost too much to bear. It was amazing to hear how Izuku was adjusting to his new life, working his hardest, granted that he earned it all. Guilt gnawed your insides, realizing that you were doing him a disservice at the same time, as you had your own secret you weren't telling your best friend.

Exhaling through your nose, you walked around back, to return the cleaning supplies, missing the group of people entering the cafe, hearing only the cheery greetings from Otoha and your other co-workers.

05:51 pm.

The café was in full bloom, packed with students from various schools filling all the seats. You’d spot some of your regular customers, most don’t stay long whilst stop just drop by for a coffee fix before they’re off.

From the far corner, a small group of students you could only guess were from UA, judging from their uniform, were making quite a ruckus.

Thankfully, there was enough staff that day.

Still, working was taxing!

Off to handle drinks, you kept the newbies by your side, promptly teaching them how to mix orders, which cups to use for which drinks, the amount of syrup, etcetera before they finished up for you and you were left to prepare another order. Like clockwork, they’d be back by your side for another order, and the process would start all over again.

Seeing as how well they were doing, you decided to leave them to make their own drinks as you worked on your own. Coming up to serve at the bar, readying your smile, your expression froze as you were met with the last person you wanted to see.

"The fuck-"

Not letting him finish, you forced the smile on back before practically shoving the drink into his hands, uncaring that it almost spilled over.

“Oi-“

"Enjoy your drinks, sir!"

Otoha, your young, sweet, co-worker, saw the whole thing, flinched at your gesture, warily watching you turn your back to help fix other orders without another bat towards the blond who just stared. Discreetly walking over, to fix her own order, she whispers, "(Name)-san, do you know him-"

"No."

"Are you sure-"

"Yes."

"But-"

"Otoha," turning to her with a pained smile, you reply. "I've never seen him before in my life. Okay?"

Feeling a shiver run down her spine, the younger girl slowly, nervously nodded. "O-Okay..."

…

“Bakugou my man, are you alright?”

“…”

“That girl looked really pissed at you, do you know her?”

"..."

“Is she an ex-girlfriend? Is that why she was so angry?”

"..."

“Yeah! And you’ve been wanting to head to this café for a while now.”

"..."

“I must admit, she’s kinda cute- “

“I will end you, dunce face.”

09:08 pm

Ever since she applied, you had taken Otoha under your wing and she all but admired you after your first meeting. You both lived in the same area, so you’d take it upon yourself to walk her home, not trusting a young teen like her to walk alone, especially when evil abounded. Also, she was quirkless.

That night, you were walking along the quiet streets, hands in your pockets as Otoha hummed under her breath. You stopped, ears picking up on footsteps – two, no three people were trailing after you. Gently taking the girl by the arm, you led her to another route, to a busier area, hoping to lose them.

Otoha was too gung-ho about her surroundings to understand your predicament, which was probably for the best. Still, you could feel them behind you.

Exiting the busy lane, the two of you crossed the street, turned a corner, into an empty square. Just as you walked in, so did they – three guys in godawful flashy clothes.

Scared, the younger girl hid behind you and you took a step forward, shielding her from their lecherous gaze.

“Can we help you?”

One of them laughed, some pansy in ridiculous SUPRA outfit waltzed towards you.

“Oh no, no, no, can we help you, young misses?”

You had to roll your eyes at that.

“Well, let’s see, it’s late at night,” he drawled, flashing gold in his teeth “two girls are out walking out,” his two companions chuckled “dangerous is it not?”

Your expression remained, betraying nothing. The pansy decided to talk some more, probably on some shit about chivalry.

“And well, we gentlemen thought it would be just right to walk you girls home!” And there it was. “It’s dangerous for little girls to be out so late.”

And he was right.

“Otoha,” you whispered, as he continued to babble. “take this alleyway,” to gesture with a quick tilt of your head, something the guys didn’t notice. “go straight then turn to your first left, you’ll be safe then.”

“E-Eh? How about you?”

Smiling, you met her gaze. “I’ll be fine.”

“…So, little girls, what’s it gonna be?”

Crossing your arms, you sighed. “Well, you guys do have a point…”

They smile amongst themselves, rather smugly.

“But” taking Otoha’s hand, you tugged her towards the alleyway, pushing her with all you have onto her shoulders. “I don’t trust fuckers who look like they belong to the world’s worst dance troupe that easily!”

The younger girl took this as her cue, albeit slightly confused, but fuelled by panic to run for it.

Loosening your bag, you allow it fall off your shoulders, before it hit the ground, and just as his goons were about to touch a hide of Otoha’s hair, you were before him, eyes ablaze with a ferocious, eerily calm expression on your face, before kicking him away from the young girl.

The force of the kick sends him rolling on the dirt before he’s out cold. One down, exhaling and you fell into a stance, eyes yellow like the moon above you.

Bracing yourself for the next assault, your ears picked up something clinking – a weapon? Ah, knuckle braces which circle his entire fists. Ah, his quirk.

Beside him, his other companion put on his glasses, his godawful flashy clothes engulfing him like an armored suit.

Always gotta be ballsy.

The lights flicker above you; you didn’t move from your spot nor did you deter from their sneers.

“You’ll wish you came willingly like a good girl!” screamed armored flashy guy. Fists hammered against each other and the two were dashing towards you.

Despite being outnumbered, adrenaline rushed through your veins, reeling with excitement as you messed with them, toying at every chance you got.

Dodging a fist thrown your way, eyes caught on the armored flashy guy you easily swung low, aiming for his legs, playing a dangerous tango against two. Sweeping low, you managed to just barely block the kick thrown your way, using the awkward push back, forcing the weight unto your back before swiftly kicking him back.

Once knocked out, you focused on fists, quick to press your body flat against the ground to dodge a measly kick, before lifting your body ever so slightly to deliver a kick to the back of his head, slamming painfully to the ground. Two down.

The light above burst, glass flying everywhere as the armored flashy guy smugly laughed to himself. “Now look what you did, little girl. It’s night out~ A dangerous time for little girls like you~” putting on his shades, which were actually night vision goggles, he walked towards the unsuspecting girl. “And I have to take good care of good girls like you~”

Without turning, you grabbed the hand that reached for your head.

“Eh?”

You could hear the thump of his heart, the hitch of his breath, his muscles moving – it was satisfying to know how much he underestimated you.

“What was it you said again,” came your voice, smooth and calm. “you’d take care of a little girl like me?”

Clenching your hand in his, you heard a crack, he screamed in pain, falling to his knees with one hand in the air.

Head turning, he flinched at the sight of you – eyes once were (e/c) gleamed a dangerous yellow, maybe not like the moon, but of a creature of the moon, a dangerous smirk playing on your lips.

“You’re right, it is dangerous to be out this late at night.”

Faster than the eye can see, you elbow him in the face, hearing a satisfying crack, before tossing him away from you.

Exhaling, you felt your nerves come to a calm. Yellow eyes took in your surroundings, ensuring that they didn’t have any more accomplices.

Three bodies, down and unconscious. You were good. With the help of your heightened senses, you found that Otoha had just fled to safety and that there was an unwanted presence behind you, smelling like burnt sugar and spicy cinnamon.

“Can I help you,” without looking his way, you turned to grab your bag from the ground “Bakugou Katsuki?”

Having seen the whole thing, he was rendered speechless, voice caught in his throat. “(N-Name)…” was all he managed to say, clearly shocked at the new discovery. "Oi, oi, oi, what the fuck? Y-You…you had a quirk all along?"

Exhaling through your nose, quite angrily, you nodded. "Yes."

Even without looking his way, you could tell his expression had changed – feel his heart thump slowly, hear the hitch in his throat – completely seething that he was lied to, kept in the dark.

You barely flinched when he grabbed you by the shoulder, rather forcingly. "Then why the fuck didn't you-"

"Tell you? Oh please, don't give me that bull that you wanted to know." Pushing him away, you didn't mind the pain in your abdomen, choosing to distance from him. "It was enough knowing that you thought having a quirk made you the king of the world and those who didn't were peasants. In layman's term, it wouldn't change a damn thing."

Carmine eyes remained on you, wide, heated, for once not filled with anger, but of confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." You sighed, tiredly this time, massaging the bridge of your nose.

"No, tell me."

"What good would it do you?"

"I just want to know."

Scoffing, you shook your head, running a hand through your hair. "Your chances were used up; you have no fucking right now."

And with that, you left.

Despite being quirkless, Izuku managed to make up what he lacked with the help of keen observation that was powered by his fascination with quirks. Thus, began his ‘Hero Analysis’ notebooks, in which he’d list down hero after hero, their amazing feats, quirks, abilities, possibilities, theories – basically, a Wikipedia page. In addition, Izuku was stronger than he looked, especially because he had a heart of gold and a strong sense of justice.

You, on the other hand, could care less about quirks. They were something to behold, true, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still human just with an added bonus, that’s it.

For the longest time, you withheld the one secret you could never have the heart to tell your best friend – you had a quirk of your own. It wasn't an impressive quirk, but it wasn't a bad one either.

Your quirk was called ‘The Night One’ - having heightened senses, agility, and strength but only at night. Most of your abilities were likened to those of nocturnal animals. When activated, your eyes would turn golden yellow. As the quirk made you active at night, obviously, and making you a bit of an insomniac, its drawback was that it made you restless during morning time.

The Yoruichi family came from a long line of martial artists, all of which mastered every martial art known to man. Before you were 10, you'd mastered it all.

Your family was more of an anti-hero, which is why they chose to lay low and pretend they were normal quirkless folks. It was easier to hide in plain sight, after all. The family had a reputation in the underground business, especially for stealth and espionage work.

Eraserhead was a family friend, he was basically your uncle growing up. He was also your idol.

Your quirk first appeared when you got your first period, which was normal for a female in your family. Not only was it terrifying experience, but you didn’t really care much for it, especially since you just wanted to live a normal life free from the expectations of society and the weight of it.

The thought of heroes and quirks made you skeptic, to say the least. And it was thanks to a certain blond.

However, your parents were more than understanding with your views – however jaded they were, assuring you that it wasn’t all bad.

“But since you’re doing this for Izuku’s sake, I don’t see why not.” Your father had said, patting your head gently.

“He’s my best friend,” 7-year old you were quick to say, cheeks puffing.

“Yes, yes, we know. We all know who you’re really setting your eyes for.” Your grandfather said teasingly, causing your cheeks to burn, sticking your tongue out to him.

Laughter left your parents’ lips, your grandfather included. Gently, your mother took you in her arms, smiling kindly at you. “But, (Name), what you’re doing is quite noble. You may not like what I’m about to say, but what you’re doing is a mark of a hero – putting others before yourself.”

“Still, we’re going to work you to the bone in the Yoruichi fashion!”

Both your parents turned sullenly to your grandfather, clearly displeased.

“Father, please.”

“You ruined the moment, old man.”

So, when did everything change?

Was it the time Izuku and you were paired more often during class? Katsuki had plenty of friends anyway. He didn’t seem to mind, stating that it was better than being exposed to quirkless germs.

Was it when Izuku and you would still tagalong to play? In the end, Katsuki would leave you in the middle of a game with his new friends.

Or was it the time Katsuki fell off that log?

You could remember it, clear as day, you and bunch of other kids tagged along to play in the forest, Katsuki leading the charge as always, you and Izuku in the last. The lot of you found yourselves with a log that connected the two cliffs together, but Katsuki just walked on, the rest followed. Halfway through, he slipped on the mossy part of the log before falling into the water.

“KATSUKI!/KACCHAN!” both you and Izuku screamed in unison, scurrying down to help him.

While the rest of your friends called out, watching, the two of you were waddling knee-deep into the water towards your best friend.

“Kacchan,” Izuku’s small voice called. “are you okay? Can you stand?”

Yes, you remember it well. The look in his eyes when Izuku offered his hand, offered him refuge and help. You were next to Izuku, unsure of the tense situation at that single moment.

And what did Katsuki do?

He slapped Izuku’s hand away, throwing away everything you three had in the process.

That’s when everything changed.

Friday, you were working the bar, lazily keeping the counter clean, when the door opened.

“Welcome!” you cried, smile in place, it widened when you were met with green curly locks. “Izuku!”

“Hi, (Nickname)! Uwah, so this is where you work, it’s rather cozy-looking!”

Smiling cheekily, you pressed your palms against the counter, watching as he approached. “Well, it is a café.” Noticing he wasn’t alone, you smiled at the company. “And who are these lovely people?”

“A-Ah, how rude of me! Everyone,” he turned to the small group, who had been watching your interaction quietly. “this is my childhood friend, (Name) Yoruichi.”

“Yo!” you gave a two-fingered salute in greeting.

“(Nickname), these are my friends-“

“I kinda know who they are, Izuku.” You teased, cutting him off, making you laugh. “But, by all means.”

“Greetings, I’m Tenya Iida!” the tall bespectacled boy says, waving his hands robotically, almost dangerously.

“Shouto Todoroki.” The dual-haired boy nods at you, eyeing the menu behind you in interest. Idly, you handed him a menu so he can have a clearer view, he mutters his thanks.

“And I’m Ochako Uraraka!” the lone brunette female says, cheerily, grabbing both your hands in hers. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Deku-kun talks about you a lot!”

“The pleasure is all mine, then. Thanks so much for taking care of my clumsy little broccoli.”

“(N-Nickname)!”

“Any case!” Iida chops a hand in, catching everyone’s attention. “We shouldn’t dilly dally! We must place our orders!”

“No worries,” you wave at him. “it’s pretty quiet this time of the week. But,” fixing your posture, standing a little straight, you put on your work persona. “anything you’d like to order?”

“I’ll have the chai latte,” says Todoroki, having made his decision. “cold, please.”

“Okay,” nodding, you turn to Iida, who orders a hot mocha, Uraraka orders a strawberry Frappuccino with cheesecake on the side. Uraraka turned to Iida and Todoroki, looking checking for available seats whilst waiting for Izuku – you liked them, they were a good bunch.

Turning to the green-haired boy, he was left eyeing the menu rather clinically, taking his time. Poking his forehead, he blinks at you. “Hot Matcha?”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know me too well, (Nickname).”

“That I do, Izuku, that I do.”

One thing that never changed though, the one thing you hoped never would, was the friendship you have with Izuku.

masterlist • three

[my-writings-and-musings]

Here's my latest commission from another wonderful and amazing person! A human reader is secretly a pyrokinetic, but an attack on Rodimus forces them to reveal their powers, and the more they unleash the more their appearance changes...

Warning for some violence and angst!

In the back of your mind, your relationship with Rodimus had been oddly perfect and ironic in ways you'd never dare tell him. The Autobot's love of heat had extended well beyond a simple temperature preference; he had a power over fire you'd never seen the likes of before. Even his own species didn't seem to understand how naturally he wielded flames for combat, nor how he possessed such an incredible resilience to temperatures that would have been painful for most. For his part, the cocky captain took the peculiarity in stride, emblazoning himself with fiery motifs and embracing his nature using an adorable mixture of puns and catchphrases.

It was something you loved about him, and while it perhaps explained some of his adoration of the seemingly unremarkable human that had plopped into his life, it also made you a little wary for his sake. If he only knew how attuned with fire you really were...

The thought of him discovering your greatest secret was a daily intrusion, but for today, you decided that it could go on the back burner. The Lost Light would be docking on a planet safe for humans, and you wanted to enjoy the time off to the fullest of your ability. No worries, no paranoia, no thoughts of past rejection... just you and Rodimus exploring a vibrant alien city together. It was going to be perfect.

"Got your debit chip, Y/N? I'm planning on doing a lot of shopping, and I don't want you to feel left out!" Rodimus said, exuberant even by his own standards as he stepped out onto the landing pad. Giggling as you kept your balance on his shoulder, you let the warm light of a foreign star cascade over your body with a sigh, the sight of a bustling alien port making your heart accelerate in your chest. All around you were races from a hundred different worlds, selling their wares and taking rest stops to relax during long intergalactic trips, and the flurry of sounds and sights and smells was intoxicating. You almost forgot to confirm the device Rodimus mentioned was indeed secure around your neck in a makeshift necklace.

"Got it right here! Show me where we should start, Captain!" You held the tiny black square in between your fingers, unable to imagine something so small holding so much value. Evidently it was the spacer equivalent of a debit card, as the name implied, and after a purchase it would simply be scanned and the necessary amount deducted from your account. Its simplicity was almost as hard to grasp as the fact you'd been gifted a ludicrous amount of money for this trip by Drift. In his own words, the ninjabot had told you to spend it on having a fun day with his best friend. The kindness of the entire crew was still so foreign to you...

"Let's check out the surf shop! My last board melted on an especially high power asteroid, so I need a new one." Rodimus said cheerfully, hefting you a little higher so you were right beside his helm. As a somewhat taller than average individual from a naturally towering species, he had an ideal view over everything in sight, resulting in you having the same. Between the packed landing strip and the notion of a store that sold surfboards for space, you were a little too overwhelmed to speak. Rodimus had no such difficulty. "Oh, or if you're hungry, we could check out an interspecies cafe! They've always got lots of earth food, even out here. Especially the extra spicy stuff you like so much."

For an instant, you were taken aback by his mention of your preference. Had he truly been paying so much attention he noticed such little details? On the one, more dominant hand, you were flattered. Rodimus had to care deeply to have noticed you preferred your food as hot and zesty as physically possible.

"I'm not hungry just yet, but thanks." you said in genuine gratitude, hiding some wariness that you desperately wished would go away. In the past your unnatural preferences had been the first clue most had to your "peculiarities", and it had never taken long from that point for things to come together in the worst possible way. Holding on tight to Rodimus for more than just balance, you quickly returned to the wonderful present, refusing to fall into the belief that the past would repeat itself. "I just want to start wherever you think is best. You're the experienced one, show me what's fun around here!"

"Well, if it's fun you want..." he said in a fake contemplative voice, having obviously had an idea he was preparing to spring on you. Taking long strides through the narrow path left by the many other denizens of the spaceport, he gave you an eager and barely restrained grin. Something almost like childish glee seemed to twinkle in his brilliant blue optics.

"There's a holo-suite lounge in some hole in the wall locale by the bay. I've heard nothing but good things about it, and it's all above board. Want to go on a vacation in a vacation?"

Thinking over your limited knowledge of the virtual reality establishments, you knew more than anything how your beloved bot adored the experience of risk free adventure they offered, finding it to be relaxing due to his day to day life. You were more than happy to let him show you one at long last, and chuckled happily as you leaned against his helm. "I'd love to, Captain."

"Yes! I have got to show you the coaster simulation, it's totally wild!" he said in victory, pumping his arms so suddenly you were nearly cast off his shoulders. Recovering quickly and catching you, he let out an abashed cough as he made sure to resettle your tiny form before proceeding far more carefully. In the moment it took you to realize the lack of leg room would make it rather hard for him to trek it anywhere in good time, Rodimus gestured to a narrow gap between skyscrapers. "We can cut through some alleys to get there faster. I plotted it out on the satellite map before we landed."

Though it didn't seem especially smart, there wasn't anything to suggest the move would be dangerous, as the planet had been cleared entirely as a secure zone. The few whisperings of anti-Cybertronian bias were too small for anyone to be worried, so you nodded your assent to use the shortcut. Careful to stick to the narrow walkways for beings of his size, Rodimus kept you secure with one hand as he hopped an underwhelming barrier to access the alleyway, chatting the whole time about all the possible simulations the two of you could try. He's talking so fast it's actually impossible to keep up as he walks between two superstructures and down the alleyway that feels more like a canyon. As the hubbub of the crowd fades to the gentler din of the machinery keeping the city going, it's easy to forget your surroundings entirely, all to allow the other's excitement to wash over you. You don't even notice how the alleyway has tiny side sections for maintenance and smaller species to traverse safely.

Until you see one pop out right in front of you.

Rodimus stops politely, assuming initially he's just met another traveler that he plans on letting pass so as not to be rude. But the alien doesn't move. Though you can't read their expression, the none too tiny organic immediately sets of your alarm bells, and a hot knot of anxiety twists in your stomach as you tense atop your partner's stiffening shoulders. As awkwardness morphs into tension, the Autobot speaks with an even and cool tone.

"There a problem here?"

An answer came not from the insect like being in front of you, but from another stepping out in the space behind, their clawed hands curled about a weapon of unknowable function.

"Typical tin man, cutting corners and plodding around like it owns the place." they said, rasping voice echoing through the translator in your ear. Before you could even guess what they meant by a phrase that was probably intended to be an insult, more began to slowly emerge from splintering alcoves and alleyways, and in moments the two of you were surrounded. Skillful as Rodimus was in a fight, there had to be enough firepower between them all to make this far from an easy win. As heat crackled instinctively to your palms, the Autobot remained calm.

"Look, if this is your filthy back alley, I'll happily leave you to it. I've got better places to be and far more attractive company to enjoy." he said glibly, making you want to kick him for not being diplomatic. For his sake he needed to be, and as for you, situations like this one had never gone well in the past... Your heart began hammering as the lead alien replied with what was likely a glare.

"Bit too late for that."

Like sharks, they began to close in on the much bigger bot. You wondered how things could have taken a turn so quickly. This was a reputable port on a stable planet, how could it be unsafe? Had the two of you not just been planning a day of fun? These aliens had to have been waiting to be this prepared, and as the next one spoke you started to understand.

"Should have stayed in your own corner of space, tin man. We're not gonna let your kind set up shop here."

"Last I checked, this was a bot friendly planet." Rodimus replied, still unnerved but tense as a rock beneath you. He was getting ready, you knew, but for what was anyone's guess. As you held onto him you prayed the plan was solid, because the heat in your body was starting to grow to levels he might notice, and that couldn't be allowed to continue. Hopefully his need to stall wouldn't last long...

The circling group, that you counted at twenty or more, took the bait. "For now, until the beauracracy gets its priorities straight. In the meantime, we're here to make sure you don't bring your trouble to our home, like your kind always does."

"Plus, can't hardly expect the authorities to prosecute what they don't know about, can you?" another said, now so close Rodimus could have kicked them. The hatred in their eyes was beyond you, and their words made the heat in your gut twist into nausea. "Your kind is easy to clean up afterwards; melt down what you can and sell it all offworld."

Rodimus, one hand still steadying you, tightened his grip possessively. Time felt like it was slowing down as you looked about madly for an exit, swearing that the enemy seemed to double every time you blinked. There had to be over twenty of them now, and the high but narrow space gave your partner little room to work with you in the mix, something he seemed well aware of as he next spoke. "What about the human? They're innocent in all this, and organic. Let them walk away."

"They chose the wrong side." the apparent leader clipped.

Bright blue optics looked to you, and a hushed voice whispered at impossible speed.

"Y/N, when I say now, be ready to tuck and roll and run. No looking back, understand?"

There was no time to say you agreed, let alone to argue.

"Now!" he shouted as a high energy weapon began to hum in preparation, followed by so many others. Before you knew it you were being moved in a wild blur. Rodimus made good on his plan, moving as precisely as he could with your comparatively fragile body to toss you over the heads of the enemy. Using the reflexes you'd honed in his company, you did as you were bid more or less subconsciously, curling up and moving with the momentum so that your landing was less than disastrous.

"Rodimus!" you choked out upon catching your breath, turning to see the group advancing with their weapons glowing hot and ready.

I said run!" he shouted, not looking at you before taking care of the first row of attackers with a wide arcing kick. More seemed to be emerging every second, but the Autobot only looked concerned for you as he swiped away another batch. "Get the others! I can hold them off until-!"

With a screech, the first weapon fired, but there was no energy beam or bullet. Instead, Rodimus was ensnared in a tangled mess of high voltage cords, their arcing metallic webs circling his upper body like a snake. Crackling electricity seared across him in a blinding burst, and he was on his knees in moments, crying out at the agony that left him helpless. In rapid succession several more shots were fired. The Autobot was left to scream on his hands and knees, the electronic pulse weaponry having been specifically designed to cripple Cybertronians in seconds and kill them in minutes.

You knew he wouldn't last long enough for you to get help.

In last ditch desperation, you grabbed the cord on your neck and pulled, snapping it so the microchip in your palm could be held aloft. "Please! I have a debit chip worth thousands! Just take it and leave him alone!"

"Just something else to make this more worth our while." the alien you'd begged to sneered, giving you a kick straight to the gut with a deceptively powerful leg. The wind was knocked from your lungs, and you were left trembling on the ground. Vision spinning, you caught sight of Rodimus barely clinging to consciousness, his flaring optics pleading for you to run. Clawed hands had a hold of your arms before you could attempt to fight back, and the leader gave a casual order as they continued to fire pulse after pulse through the metallic web. "Grab the sympathizer; we'll take care of them after this one's fried."

It was clear that survival hinged on the unthinkable. Heat in your gut became molten as you summoned what you knew was your only hope, the air about you filling with the scent of smoke as you looked up Rodimus one final time as his partner. You'd always hoped it would never come to this, but fate, it seemed, was determined to be unkind.

"I'm sorry..."

The aliens on either side of you yelped and released their hold on your arms as the skin went from hot to searing, their confusion turning to fear as the heat only continued to intensify. Your clothes singed and the air thickened, and while it only took moments, the remaining attackers became aware of the change far too late. Shouts of alarm didn't register amongst the crackling sparks that started dancing up and down your body. It had been very long since you'd used these gifts, but you knew the steps far too well to ever forget.

A jet of flame erupted from your palms with the force of a rocket leaving the earth, blasting back numerous aliens from the sheer power. You heard screams but they hardly dissuaded you, as they'd all more than earned what was coming. The heat began to reach levels high enough to clear the air of any moisture, making those still alive after the first blast cough and struggle to breathe, all the while rendering them incapable of fleeing.

You should have just ended it there; cut the flames and told the survivors to get lost, but you weren't done. It felt far too good for you to stop.

A literal ring of fire encircled the gathered aliens, trapping them all in with you as they tossed aside their white hot weapons and tried to find a way out. Rodimus was immune even to the extreme heat, but dazed enough from his shock not to truly be conscious. You stepped over to him as the fire danced at the command of your fingertips. After the fear of the ambush, the choking heat and crackling flames felt like a breath of fresh air. You were at home in the inferno.

Hearing a scream, you realized rather quickly that payback was still due. Smiling softly, you beckoned the fire to move, controlling it with mere gestures and the simplest of thoughts. It danced like a snake would for a master charmer, coiling about the enemy and suffocating them. You were far too busy indulging yourself to notice how the waves of heat washed over your skin, particularly how the flesh hardened and patterns began to emerge like the scales of an otherworldly being. Similiarly, the sharpening of your teeth and the rise of claws from your fingertips drew no trace of concern. All that mattered was how good it felt to make your attackers pay.

There were more than enough of them for you to take your time, and so you did, keeping them corralled in the fire as you picked them off one by one. Had they expected anything like this when they'd made you a target? Had they prepared for the possibility that not everyone would just lie down and die? Had they even bothered to consider the Autobot wasn't the most dangerous being here?

As one body crumbled to ash, you got your answer in a way that made you smirk; clearly they hadn't.

As you began to run low on targets, it occurred to you that keeping up your wall of fire might draw unnecessary attention. Frowning around canines you realized had developed a lovely point, you decided to finish the fun. Clawed fingertips snapped together to command the flames to converge, and they did so in a heartbeat, jumping upon the survivors like rabid dogs on a meal. You barely registered a scream before ash and cinders began drifting past on a hot breeze. With another smile, you recalled their comment on crimes going unpunished when they were properly cleaned up. Dismissing the fire with a wave of your hand, you thought smugly on how these piles of soot would hardly suggest what had happened here.

Rodimus stirred from his daze, groaning in discomfort and shifting beneath the web of deactivated electric pulsers. Frowning at the sight, you summoned a thin jet of fire from your fingertips and got to work. The metal coils turned to red slag with very little effort, which melted down the heat resistant bot's body like wax before dripping to the ground around him. In no time you had him free, and while the flames actually seemed to perk him up a bit, the Autobot was clearly not in a good way. When he failed to awaken after you said his name your confidence started to dissipate. Heart hammering once more, you dropped to your knees beside his helm, hoping to wake him with some gentle encouragement to get him moving.

It was when you laid your hands on his helm that your thoughts shifted to horror, but not for his sake. The normal human hands you had once possessed were now tipped with wicked claws, and as your eyes trailed upwards you saw that your skin was patterned with scales of an equally inhuman nature. Sharp fangs registered with proper horror in your mouth now that the adrenaline of the moment was gone, and you realized that unlike every single time before, you weren't turning back to normal. You must have gone too far this time... How could you not have, killing dozens of people, as desperate as the situation may have been? You had liked it too, and even now you couldn't bring yourself to regret what you'd done...

"Y/N?" a raspy voice spoke up, startling you with good enough news that you momentarily forgot your panic. Rodimus stirred more effectively, groaning in pain but appearing otherwise stable as he lifted his helm off the ground and looked to you. His expression turned to fearful concern before you could speak. "Are you okay? What did they do to you?"

"I..." You didn't have the words. No doubt you were a horrifying sight, twisted as you were and smoking in your burnt clothes... It was a miracle he recognized you at all.

Rodimus narrowed his optics, perhaps thinking everything he'd seen was the result of processor trauma from his shock. "You burned them... I saw... but you don't have a weapon."

"I am the weapon." you blurted out, baring your fangs without meaning to. At his confusion, you tried to explain, a sinking feeling pulling you down as you did so. There was no way you could be with him like this... Appearance aside, you'd awoken a part of yourself you couldn't trust. Still, he deserved to know. "I never told you... I've always been able to do this, but could never go too far, unless..."

"You saved me." he whispered in awe, weak but insistent as he reached for you. On reflex, you pushed his hand away.

"I killed them. All of them. I finally lost control and now..."

Rodimus perked up a bit, looking desperate when your intent became clear to him. Even after a beating, he could read you well, and your decision to leave for his sake was clear in your face. "They were going to kill us both! You didn't do anything wrong-"

"Look at me!" you shouted back, curling clawed hands into fists as each grabbed at your head. You swore you felt newly erupted horns crowning your brows, and that discovery drew sizzling tears down your cheeks. "I burned them, and I liked it, and now I look like this! I'm a monster, and I'd do it again!"

"Y/N-"

Wiping away the wetness from your eyes, you stood up sharply, knowing he wouldn't accept what was best for him. "You can't be with me like this, Rodimus. I'm not even human..."

"I'm not either!" A gentle but insistent hand looped about your middle, turning you back around to look at him before he nearly collapsed from the effort of the movement. Wide blue optics pled to you as he did the same, baring his spark with every single word. "Please, Y/N, I know this is a lot for you but please... don't leave me... I can't lose you."

"Haven't you already?" you said bitterly, optimism nowhere to be found as you surveyed a clawed hand. Rodimus didn't flinch at the sight.

"You think a new look will scare me away? Plus, I'm fireproof, remember? You can't hurt me." he said with his best attempt at a winning smile in his current state. Losing it in an instant, he hugged you closer, optics betraying the depths of his pain and desperation as he did so. The Captain was holding on to you like a lifeline. "I need you, okay? Please, just give me a chance to work this out with you. I love you, no matter what."

It was the first time he'd told you that, but you knew he meant it. A softer heat, like a pleasant campfire, filled the space around your heart. Holding a digit of his in your hand, you gave a gentle squeeze. "I love you too..."

"So stay with me?" he said softly, pulling you in for something like a hug. Getting down on your knees, you cuddled close to his helm, a few stray tears dripping down onto his armor. Rodimus didn't even flinch as he whispered into your ear. "We'll figure this out. I don't care if this is the new normal, as long as you're with me."

"Okay..." you replied, nodding as you recalled the thoughts of irony you'd had just that morning. How perfect he was for you, a fireproof being so enamored he didn't see what a risk you were to everything... But if he was willing to try? Well, you couldn't deny how much you wanted this to work either... Holding him tight, you replied with the best promise you could give at the moment, but like him you meant it.

"We can try..."

Like this? You can commission me for a story of your own here!

[willwedie-justalittle]

Teen wolf and sounds

Ever since I started watching tv, I noticed that I would be more likely to recognise songs and voices instead of faces. That lead to a game in my household where I would try to remember which characters had the same voices, since the shows I watched were mostly American and needed dubbing. This means that most of the time, a single French guy would be the voice of a lot of different characters. I also spent a lot of time just singing the theme songs or trying to recognise which song was being used in a scene. And when I started TW, I watched it in English. That meant that I no longer needed to listen to the voices to see if they reminded me of another character, I could just concentrate on the sounds the makers of the show decided to use.

When making a cinematographic piece, there are a lot of things to take into consideration. Not only does the cast have to be good, they also have to make sure the visual and sounds serve a purpose. A dialog can be perfectly delivered by the actors, if their surrounding aren’t made to follow along, it just becomes a pretty useless scene. And since I’ve watched a shit ton of Teen Wolf over the years, I wanted to talk in length about the sounds and noises used by the makers of the show to help move the story forward, and how much I enjoy it. I originally wanted to concentrate on the 3rd season, but I soon realised that I couldn’t limit everything to a single season. Everything that’s being said here doesn’t reflect anybody’s opinion but my own. I accept criticisms, and I also recognise that I don’t own kind of degree regarding movies and/or sounds. I’m just a 27-year old who loves cinema and music. Don’t take it too seriously. This is also a disclaimer : I’m French, so there might be some mistakes along the way, don’t hesitate to tell me and I’ll correct them.

This goes without saying, but SPOILERS.

Here’s how I organised this :

I : Introduction to sounds, for the viewers and the characters

II : Wolves and vilain, how they communicate?

III : What if we just talk?

IV : The new world within the new world

________________________________________________________________

I : Introduction to sounds, for the viewers and the characters

Where it all began

For this story to exist, there is one thing that can’t be taken away : a police scanner. We overhear that a body has been discovered in the forest during the night at the end of August/early September. Stiles, the Sheriff’s son intercept the message on his police scanner and decides to drag Scott, his best friend, deep into the woods to go and look for the body. It is made clear to the audience that listening devices are going to be important, so much so that one of the main character has one installed in his car.

After the search, and an altercation with the Sheriff’s department, Scott gets bitten. In the scene, we see him turning around because of the noises the wolf behind him is making. The scene is dark, and we hear more that we see the wolf attacking him. We hear his feral snarls, and Scott’s screams. And here starts what becomes a very TW characteristic : the presence of a wolf is mostly known because of their sounds. Whether it’s the growling, the running, or the noises that come along the reveal of their shifted form with the glistening of their eyes. It’s a very distinct sound, one that will be kept until the end of the show to signal to the audience of the changing into a wolf of one of the character, no matter their rank.

The police scanner has then been used multiple times, up until the end of the 5th season, when Stiles and Scott hear that a body had been found in the woods, again, the story going full circle when Stiles decided to leave Beacon Hills to start studying in the FBI’s training program. Of course, it wouldn’t be the last time we see Stiles, but it was pretty heart-warming to see that after they passed the torch to Liam and Mason, their story as teenagers was coming to an end.

As my mum would say : should you listen to your music so loudly?

I thought it was interesting how music was used in the series. Not the background musics, sadly I didn’t have the time to go too deep with the interpretation of why a certain song was being used in a specific scene, but rather, how music is being used in the series in regards to the character’s actions, and the sense of false security that comes along with it.

First, let’s talk about Kira. In her first scene interacting with the pack, she overhears a conversation between them; using it to approach them. Sounds here serve as an introduction to the pack for her, since she’s able to become part of it afterwards. The other interesting part is that through noises and sounds, she is able to get a few glimpses into Scott’s world without fully understanding it.

She’s actually the first character that made me realise the importance of music as a tool. In season 3, she comes close to death when William Barrow comes to the school and is ordered to kill her. She has no idea that a serial killer roams around the school and goes to the library after her classes end. When Stiles pulls the emergency alarm; a universal sounds that signifies danger when heard, to evacuate the school, she is unable to hear it due to the music in her headphones being so loud. When Coach finds her and makes her leave, Barrow is shown hiding behind the shelves next to her. If music seems to be a way for her to escape, it it used to trick her into a state of false security.

Then, it Liam’s turn. In s4, this newcomer is bitten by Scott in order to save his life. And soon enough, he begins to change into a werewolf. This is being shown to the audience through music. When being driven by Kira, the music playing in the background overwhelms him, making it as if it was being played at a loud volume, instead of the nice background noise it actually was. It’s a nice flashback to when Scott was still learning to get used to his heightens senses (more on that later). Teen wolf has a habits of making things go full circles and often uses sounds to translate this for the viewers. Even without outright saying it, we are able to reflect on what it can mean. And this sense of false security comes back too. Kira is here pretending to drive him to a party, when she is actually bringing him to the pack to help him control the shift.

Last, I’m going to talk about the bonfire, and how, once again, music was made to lure the wolves into a dangerous situation. In the bonfire scene, we are shown Liam and Malia getting drunk, something that we’ve been told was impossible due to their healing powers.

Scott ends up realising that the music playing for the crowd is being used to disable them to help the killer who came there to cross their names off the deadpool.

The makers of Teen wolf found a universal part of the life of teenagers, something that can help them go through difficult times and decided to use it against the characters, showing the audience that nothing is safe. They all have to figure out a way to navigate through this new life without the help of what was once a source of comfort, and so does the audience.

II. Wolves and vilains, how do they communicate ?

How the wolves use it

Not only are we, as spectator, made aware of their changing, but the wolves themselves gain something from being bitten. Their sense of sight, smell and hearing become heightened, to help them not only hunt, but protect themselves.

Scott is the first wolf we see who is learning how to control his senses. In the first season, Derek tries to teach Scott a way to control and survive the shift. It doesn’t go as easily as Derek hoped, and he has to resort to showing Scott what will happen if he doesn’t try harder. He helps him concentrate on the sounds of hunters approaching them one night, and makes him watch another wolf get killed. From this moment on, Scott is not only able to take this training more seriously, but also use his listening ability to protect himself.

Unfortunately, the hunters are aware of this characteristic and found a way to deprave them from it : they fabricated a device that emits a sound only wolves are able to hear and it was originally used to distract them and lead them to a trap. But as the seasons go by, Chris Argent (whose family is known for hunting werewolves) becomes an ally and helps regroup Boyd and Cora to the school using those emitters. The torture device becomes helping as the seasons progress, along with the relationship between the characters. The noises then become a tool.

Over the following seasons, Scott masters this ability, and is shown using it in a lot of different situations. It helps him when he needs to listen in to conversations in relations with a villain he’s chasing, or when it helps him get closer to Allison on her first day. Funny enough, it is also used to try to befriend Kira when she first arrives after he heard her talking to her father about her lack of friends.

Alphas and packs

Since the beginning of the show, it was showed that wolves can communicate differently. To signal their position, they can howl and while it might not mean anything to humans, other wolves/animals are able to understand it. It is also used to bring someone back from their headspace. Scott first uses it in the first season to bring the alpha to the school. Later, in season 3, when he and Lydia enter Stile’s mind, he howls on Lydia’s advice to help Stiles overcome the Nogistune’s power in his mind. Stiles being part of Scott’s pack is able to hear it and regains control of his mind despite being human. Over the course of the show, we see wolves of Scott packs using it with each other, but they’re not the only one.

In the first half on the 3rd season, we are introduced to the Alpha Deucalion. Leader of the pack Scott fights against, he uses his voice to force terror and submission to those around him. He shatters his glasses when he proclaims himself Destroyer of worlds and tries later on to force Scott to kill Jennifer, making Scott fall to his knees ; his wolf unable to resist the command of an Alpha.

Sounds in this case becomes a way to rally someone to a cause or a pack. But it is a very grounding sound, used to bring either peace of mind, or terror. The viewers are then able to choose a fighter.

III. What if we just talked ?

Phones, man’s greatest invention

Scott realises quickly that something’s happening to him when he hears Allison (on the other side of the school ground) saying to the mother on the phone that she forgot to bring a pen. It helps him get on her radar since he is able to give her one, making him the first person/student Allison talks to when she arrives in BH.

As the story goes on, I’ve always thought that Allison’s relationship with sounds was a pretty important on. As a foreshadow, she gets some mysterious voicemails of a man speaking Japanese when her phone is turned off the night Stiles goes missing in s3. It is revealed that the man is telling instruction to a group of prisoners in a Japanese camp named Oak Creek during WW2. It ends up being relevant, since Kira’s mother summoned the Nogitsune while being a prisoner in this camp. Sadly, it also happens to be the place where Allison is killed.

Still with the Argents, when Kate is brought back to life, Scott says that since he doesn’t have the money to call France where Chris is staying since his daughter’s death, he thought he could text him the bad news. Stiles tells him that it might not be such a good idea to announce something like that over a text. And with money being a big part of the 4th season, the foreshadowing is once again strong in this scene.

Then we have the case of Jennifer Blake, the English teacher/antagonist in s3a. We are first introduced to her through her voice. She sent a text to all of her students, quoting the end of a book they’re going to study, and she reads the last sentence out loud coming into the classroom. And if it can be shocking to see teachers texting their students, it is later used to set up a meeting between her, Derek, Scott and Deucalion. This time, instead of the tool bringing people closer, it is used to put a plan in motion, one that involves death and pain.

Words aren’t just words, they’re tools

I talked about a lot of sounds a wolf can make, but another important thing in a series are the words themselves, the dialogues. In this story, we are faced with a lot of teenagers, and it isn’t wrong to say that at 16/17, it is hard to voice everything that’s going on in the head of a teenager. Everyone relies on a different method, and it builds their characters. Where Scott can be a little shy, Stiles is the loud one. When Lydia is making sure nobody knows how high her grades are, her boyfriend Jackson likes to brag about his successes. We have a lot of paradoxes here, and there are a lot more comparison to do.

Spoken words are loud in this series. Stiles is the sarcastic one, using it to defend himself, and it is quite interesting that Lydia is doing the same thing with her screams. But sadly, the unspoken things are louder. They can break a family apart. Scott is once again a good example. After his drunk father came home after a night out drinking, his mother told him to get out. She then went to Noah Stilinski to talk about it. Stiles overheard everything but never said a word to Scott. But so did Scott’s mother who felt like Scott would resent her if she told him that she was the one how asked his father to leave. Secret are hard to keep and live with, and they gain so much power as time goes by. There is also something to be said about misunderstandings. In that case, Melissa admits to Scott’s father in the 3rd season that he misunderstood her words, saying that she wished that he would still be a part of their son’s life.

Then, we have Stiles trying to get the biggest secret of all off his chest and tell his dad about the supernatural at the hospital. His father has a very specific answer :« I’m listening, I've been listening ». Meaning that as much as he is used to his son antics, he doesn’t want to admit that he is telling the truth. He hears what his son is saying, but he doesn’t want to listen, despite what he’s saying. Listening and hearing are two very different things. Listening means taking into account the words that are being spoken. And when the things he hears go against everything he believed his entire life, and he can’t listen to it any longer. We then find out that he had a moment when his wife died and a young woman told him to go be with his wife, and he didn’t want to obey. As much as he tells himself that he doesn’t believe, he just doesn’t want to face the fact that he missed his wife’s last moments. And it is heartbreaking to see that he needs to be himself close to dying to admit that his son was right. Stiles’ words were true, and not just the rambling of a teenager. He finally listened, after days, even years of dismissing what he refused to believe.

But some words can help bring closure. It is always a regret people have when they can’t say goodbye to their loved ones. But Allison isn’t one of them. On the contrary, her last words are probably the most important ones of the series. Just before her final battle, she made a point of telling her dad that she loved him. She needed to voice it, making sure that no matter what happened, her words would always resonate in her father’s mind. Then, she tells Scott how he’ll always be her first love, and finishes by saying that she has to tell something to her dad. When Chris hears it, he first think of his last conversation with his daughter, but it turns out that Allison needed to tell him something else : she realised how to kill the Onis, and she wants to make sure the pack and her dad are able to use her arrow heads to defeat them. Allison was a powerful young woman, fierce and strong, and as much as she values her relationship with the people around her, she also made sure to voice what was important to her.

Spoken words are on of the most effective ways to bring a story to life, but not everyone is able to speak. The show doesn’t let it stop them, and it brings us to the next subject.

Different kinds of voices

Over the course of the series, we see the pack facing all kinds of villains. Some like to talk and be heard, like Kate, or Peter, but some others use another way to be understood and deeply feared.

Let’s start with the Mute. He is a man (?) without a mouth, a professional killer who decides to kill supernatural beings from the deadpool. He uses a wrist keyboard with a computer generated voice to communicate with his victims. And the fact that he can’t talk but still has a voice coming out of him makes for a great villain, but a scary one at the same time. Because he only uses his voice to invoke fear ; with Sean Walcott to tell him that he killed his family and will kill him too, and with Peter when he tells him that Derek will be the next to die. The sounds coming from him are haunting, and likely resonate in the head of the people lucky enough to survive him.

The Anuk-Ite, who doesn’t use his own voice, found a way to inflict fear as well, with a difference: he uses other’s people voice to make his victims suffer. In the series finale, he uses the pack’s weaknesses’s voices against them to make them open their eyes and freeze them. Most of them give in and open their eyes, but Scott finds a way to go around it. If the Anuk-Ite uses voices, he will use his eyes. And it is such a great power move, because it shows us that while powerful enough to create illusion of the pack’s loved ones or fears, Scott decided to exploit the villain’s weakness against him.

Then we have the Oni, the « Japanese ninjas » from season 3. They don’t need a voice to be feared. The sound effects used to signal their presence is the only thing we need; a weird sound that comes out every time they appear, making the viewers and the character scared for what’s about to happen. And we have to recognise the talent of the people behind those sound effects, because without them, we would need words, and threats from the villains. But given that the only introduction they need is this sound, the scenes come across perfectly. And, except the few information given by Katashi, we don’t need anything else to understand that anyone standing in their way will be killed. Similar to them, are the Rider’s in the 6th season. They are some of the biggest villains the pack has faced, erasing dozens of people from existence without uttering a single word.

Finally, we have one of the most human killers of the show ; Brunski, the Head Orderly at Eichen House. He was a serial killer who killed patients because he believed he was helping them with their pain and recorded it on a tape recorder to listen to it later. In the fourth season, we found out that he murdered Lydia’s grandmother and uses this to torture her by made her and Stiles listen to the young woman's grandmother pleading for her life. And it must have been excruciating for Lydia to know that the last thing she will ever hear of her grandmother was her last moment alive. Once again, sounds and voices are being used against Lydia to torture her further, showing us that this human serial killer doesn’t need any super power to be heard and have his voice used to kill. Worst than this, his use of sounds is so disturbing. He finds happiness in listening to his victims suffer, going even further by recording it to relieve it all over again. He uses the last defences his patients have against them, even beyond their death.

Now that we saw the importance of sounds coming from humans and wolves alike, let’s see who else needs more than words to express themselves.

IV : The new world within the new world

Lydia and other Banshees

When we first meet Lydia, she is as far from the supernatural as one can be. But as time progresses, she encounters Peter who bites her and turns her into… Well something. She starts by following blindly his orders in season 2, but the real progress happens in season 3. Being held captive by Jennifer Blake, she ends up screaming, signalling every supernatural creatures around that something is happening to her. In the previous season, her screams were made to believe she was just screaming out of fear, as humans sometimes do when faced with a gigantic black form sprinting out of a store window. Blake then realises that she’s a Banshee ; the wailing woman, shading lights on so many events in the seasons : why she ended up finding a lot of the bodies in the beginning of the season, or why she would end up at certain key locations. But once again, the makers of the show decided to use sounds to express not only how she felt, but what it meant.

After she sees Peter talking to her mother about hearing, she decides to go to him to learn more about her power. He tells her that the screams don’t give her her powers. They help her calm down enough to quiet her mind. That explains how she was able to find out what was hidden in Talia Hale’s claws ; she screamed and threw them at the wall, allowing her to understand the voices inside it. That’s also how she was able to understand that the flies she was hearing in the William Barrow episodes were actually electricity, which helped the pack realise that Kira was being held at the power plant. After spending an entire day thinking there were flies around her, she finally screamed when Stiles told her to. Lydia has a special relationship with sounds, but they are sadly too overwhelming at first, thus stopping her to understand what’s going on.

During this time, a possessed version of Stiles was taking some medical tests in an MRI machine. Lydia, being so scared for his friend, spent the entire day being hyper sensitive to sounds. She was hearing lockers and doors closing at a higher rate and heard the sound of the machine loud and clear, as if she was the one inside it. She tried to put the music louder but the sounds were all she could hear, and she finally screamed. But no sound were heard in the scene. We only saw her despair and fear. She wasn’t screaming as a Banshee, but as someone who didn’t want her friend to die. The torture wasn’t over though, because Void Stiles took her in Oak Creek and there, she was able to hear every single person who died during the riot. She appears in total distress, not being able to shut her mind from all the pain that roamed around the corridor. The saddest moment however came when Allison was killed. Not being able to stop herself, or help a passed out Stiles, she just screams for the life of her best friend, and it no doubt will be added to cries of the other victims of this place.

Next comes the study in the Lake House. During the party in season 4, she realises that once the door was closed, no noise was able to come through. And as hard as it to make a scene with the proper music and sounds, it is even harder to do when there aren’t any sounds. Here we see how important the absence of noise is. And it becomes so much more relevant when we learn that her grandmother was also a Banshee who was able to predict one death because she heard rain when it wasn’t raining outside. Sadly, it didn’t help, since her girlfriend ended up dying, not able to understand where this warning was coming from. Her grandmother then decided to look for other people like her and here came Meredith. This young woman wasn’t able to understand the voices in her head. The Lake House served as some kind of experiment for her, and here, the sounds are used to show how mad they drove her. If Lydia was able to understand more of her family’s heritage and her power, Meredith bled from her ears in this room. Once again, foreshadowed when the wine bottle breaks on the ground, spreading red everywhere.

As for Meredith, she goes through some rough times during the end of the season when we discover that she was the one who created the deadpool in response of Peter’s thoughts that she was able to hear when he was in a coma after the fire. He kept going on and on about how there should be a list of supernatural people, and that professional killers should be the first one to cross names off that list. Lydia explained that for Meredith, all the time he spent in a coma, it was like she was only hearing his thoughts, like a radio. And so the deadpool was born. And once again, the study in the Lake House was a crucial part of the story since it was there that the deadpool was able to be active, and ended up being destroyed. When the truth comes out, Lydia is the only one able to understand Meredith. And it prompted the saying « Not all monsters do monstrous things ». Lydia is finally able to understand the world around her and herself, recognising that sounds and screams can be used for the greater good.

And it is also Meredith who ends up teaching a lot to Lydia, showing her that her screams can be as powerful as a bullet. From then on, Lydia is able to save Stiles from the Hunt-version of his mother in season 6 for example, help him break free of his imprisonment of the Hunt, or break Mason from The Beast’s possession in season 5. Her screams no longer come from a place of fear, but power.

But it also shows us something important : when the pack was trying to destroy the Beast of Gevaudan, Lydia is attacked by Sebastian Valet and, when she attacked him, he clawed at her throat, making her unable to use her voice, making her powerless. Over time, her screams became a defense, something that she was able to channel to protect herself. And the inability to produce them showed us once again that while it is hard to voice our thoughts and make sense of things while talking, it is even harder to deal with them without the ability to be loud or even just heard.

Eichen House & Echo House

We are first introduced to this place in season 3 when Stiles believes he is trapped there by the Nogistune. He finally decides a few episodes later to stay there to ensure the safety of the pack. And from the moment he walks in, we are surrounded creepy music. The woman tells Stiles that he won’t have any spoken contacts with the outside world for 72 hours, making sure that the isolation is complete. It also means that he won’t be able to be reassured by his loved ones. And as soon as the Sheriff begins to doubt his decision to leave Stiles there, he hears sounds louder, like Lydia earlier ; doors closing, buzzing sounds like in a prison when a cell opens and closes, etc… His mind is unable to concentrate on anything else but the sounds telling him that his son isn’t safe there. And as soon as he leaves, we have proof of that : a man hangs himself from the stairs. Right before that happens, we hear him talking, without anybody paying attention to him, even when Stiles points it out to the nurse. And when he voices his need to talk to someone outside, his request is denied. In this place, there are so many voices and levels of insanity that the few clear sentences that come out of the patients’ mouth are taken as white noise.

Stiles' roommate Oliver then tells him that he is aware of the suicide without having to leave his bed. The other name for this institution is Echo House, because according to him, everything echos there. Which means that the pain and suffering that one patient can experience is voiced and shared with all the other patients. Voices here are a sign of insanity and unsafe environment.

Sadly, all of this was perceived by Lydia earlier in the season. When Stiles went missing, she went to his room to find an intricate bundle of rope all over his bed. When Aiden pinched a string, Lydia heard voices telling her that Stiles was trapped in Eichen house.

The story then comes full circle with Lydia being a patient at Eichen House in the 5th season where she learns all about the strength of her powers. As patients are often physically restricted or tied to their beds, it is significant that Lydia was able to finally scream out her pain. So loud in fact, that she was able to break windows and free herself.

_____________________________________________________________

In the eighth episode of season 6, Blitzkrieg, Noah Stilinski says that they are gathered together (minus Stiles) because his « goofball son » decided to drag his greatest friend in the world out in the wood to see a dead body a few years ago. And this call was the beginning of everything. If Stiles hadn’t been listening, he wouldn’t have led Scott outside, Scott wouldn’t have been bitten, and none of this would have happened. And that’s the most important thing in this show. Without sounds, there wouldn’t be any kind of story.

Rare are the shows and movies who are able to make a complete work without any sounds, or spoken words. But as astonishing as those body of work are, it makes even more important the ones that feature sounds as a tool. Because that’s what they are, in the end. Tools to move a story, tools to understand the characters. Show runners talk through their characters, bring life to words that only existed in their minds. Some put more thoughts into it than others, but I think that we can learn a lot from the person behind a show if we listen closely to the sounds they choose to include in a story. Each character is a representation of a specific idea, and each one of their words represents an important notion a show runner wants the audience to grasp. Are we all willing to listen, though?

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (ch 11)

Chapter 11

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 2,054

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2​ @zobadak​​

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing…

tw: France, attempted murder, death, it’s a vampire story so...

               When Catalina and Jungkook came back to the rooms wrapped in towels, hand in hand, everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and stared.

               “Did you guys fuck in the hot tub?” Jimin asked, breaking the silence.

               “Jungkook! That is irresponsible and inappropriate!” Jin screeched.

               “We didn’t fuck in the hot tub!” Catalina yelled over the chaos, trying and failing to contain her laughter. “Everyone calm down.”

               “We were just about to do some slumber party activities,” said Taehyung. “I got us some popcorn from downstairs and I heard of a game called spin the bottle-“

               “Or we can just talk,” said Jimin. “I want to hear about you guys, since you’re immortal and all.”

               “And we can braid hair,” said Taehyung. Jimin giggled.

               “Well, we’re gonna go change first, then we can do whatever you want,” said Catalina.

               After changing into some warm clothes, everyone gathered into the room with the largest floor space and sat around wherever they could. Catalina was sat on the ground in front of Taehyung, who was braiding her hair. Jungkook sat beside her, close enough for their arms to brush every time they moved.

               “So, what happened out there?” asked Jimin. “Give us the deets. I know I said not to go find him, but it looks like it went well.”

               “It did go well,” said Catalina. “We made up.”

               “And made out,” said Jungkook. Catalina elbowed him, but he just laughed.

               “Yeah, we…” Catalina felt breathless again as she looked over at the boy making her heart flutter. “Yeah.”

               “I mean, I don’t think we need the deets,” said Jin.

               “Yeah, I’m more interested in you guys,” said Jimmy K, pointing to the four vampires. “You guys have been around a while. You must have plenty of stories.”

               “Sure! What do you wanna know?” Hoseok said with a shit eating grin on his face, leaning back on his hands. Namjoon, who was sitting beside him, swatted at him.

               “Oh please,” he said. “You’re practically a baby.”              

               “He’s right,” said Hoseok. “I was born in 1973. Turned in ’95. I’m still not used to the whole ‘no aging’ thing. Definitely not used to living with people who are literally hundreds of years old. That’s a trip.”

               “How did you get turned into a vampire?” Catalina asked him.

Hoseok completely ignored her, turning to Namjoon and saying, “Yeah, tell us your story.”

               “I-she…” Namjoon stuttered, pointing at Catalina. Then he sighed and said, “Well, I was turned when I was twenty-three. The year was 1580. I guess I should give some history. So, during those times, there was a lot happening in Europe to the vampire community, specifically in France. This was called The Great Hunt, but it definitely wasn’t great for a lot of people. The vampires living there at the time were being relentlessly hunted and killed, rounded up and tortured. It was a massacre, and it led to a lot of vampires leaving the country and travelling the world to get away from it. That’s how I met Pierre. He escaped the hunt and fled, ending up all the way in northern Korea. I lived in a seaside village, mostly working on the water. One day, I ended up in a swampy area of the shoreline and my boat got stuck. Then this ghostly man came out of the water and sat on a rock. I had never seen anyone like him in my life; he was unnaturally beautiful and pale. I ditched my boat and swam to him, I couldn’t even control myself. We talked for a while and he told me about where he came from and then he bit me. He was going to drain me if it weren’t for the search party arriving, looking for me. He ran away and my fellow fisherman took me back to the village. I was half dead, but his venom was already doing its work. The transformation was excruciating. It felt like my veins were on fire, my head felt like it was going to explode, my jaw ached like someone was prying my mouth open, and it went on like this for days. Finally, when it stopped and the pain went away, I had this uncontrollable thirst. I could hear people’s hearts beating. I could taste their heat, just by being near them. I ended up killing three people in my village before I was captured. They were going to behead me, but I was stronger and faster now, so I got away easily.

                “I was on the run for so long, but eventually, I made it out of the country. I ended up in Bangladesh-“

               “How?!” Jin interrupted. “That’s���that’s all the way across China!”

               Namjoon shrugged and said, “I was fast and I never got tired. I was able to feed off of people along the way, as long as I kept moving. Anyway, I ended up by the ocean, the Indian ocean, and I met another vampire there. She worked on a ship and offered me a job. She turned out to be a pirate, and the crew was a mix of vampires and humans, all working together. We sailed the sea, taking ships and feeding from their crews. It was dirty, living like that. And it wasn’t how I wanted to live my life, so I left them and lived in India for a few years. Then one day, I took a boat to America and built my house in the mountains, using the riches I had from my pirate years. From there, I spent my days studying and getting degrees, learning as much as I can about everything.”

               “That’s incredible,” said Catalina.

               “So cool. I can’t believe you were a pirate,” said Jungkook. “You just don’t seem like the type.”

               “It was mostly about the community,” said Namjoon. “A lot of vampires were drawn to piracy during those times because they felt safe together. We couldn’t engage in regular society because the French were still hunting us across Europe and even into India for a while. But on the water, no one could touch us. But you’re right, I wasn’t the type. I didn’t like the bloodshed and pillaging and the dirty lifestyle, so I left as soon as I felt it was safe to live in society again, which was right around the time the Renaissance period began.”

               “That’s when I met Adrianna,” Taehyung said quietly behind Catalina. He had finished the braid and was tying a hair tie at the end.

               “Who Adrianna?” asked Jimin.

               “The vampire who changed me,” he said. “Ah, she was incredible. I miss her every day still.”

               “She’s not around anymore?” Jimin asked.

               Taehyung shook his head. “When we moved to the United States, the town we lived in found out we were vampires and they were going to lynch us. I got away, but she didn’t.”

               Jimin crawled over to him and gave him a hug.

               “I’m so sorry,” he said.

               Taehyung pouted and said, “It’s okay. It gets easier over time, especially now that I’m making new friends and doing things again.”

               “How did you meet her?” Catalina asked.

               “She found me in Korea. She was travelling the world, avoiding the hunts in France and Europe, and she ended up there,” Taehyung began. “I was only about sixteen at the time. I was painting and doing calligraphy for the royal family, but most of my time was spent on my grandma’s farm. She raised me so I wanted to help her out as much as I could. Adrianna found our farm and we let her stay with us, since she seemed unwilling to go into the town. She didn’t speak Korean at the time and I didn’t speak French, so we couldn’t talk much. She taught me French, and once I got decent at it, I taught her Korean and we became close friends after that. She stayed with us on the farm for a few years, helping with the chores and everything, and teaching me different art styles. She was an incredible painter. I found out she was a vampire one day when I saw her sneaking out of the house at night, so I followed her. She went into the village and drank from someone, hypnotizing them so they couldn’t remember. I told her I would keep her secret.

               “After my grandma passed away, I sold the farm and Adrianna took me to France. The hunts had ended and people were becoming more interested in art and science. We lived well in France, staying in a big house and studying under great painters. I even got to see the grave of Alexandria the Annihilator.”

               Namjoon, Yoongi and Jimmy K all gasped.

               “No way,” said Namjoon.

               “What was it like?” asked Yoongi.

               “Was her sword really on display there?” asked Jimmy K.

               “How do you even know who she is?” asked Taehyung. Jimmy K just grinned. “Anyway, yes, her sword was there. It was so big! It even looked like there was old blood on the blade. It was in a glass case, resting on a bed of her real fur capes.”

               Namjoon and Yoongi both erupted into a chorus of “so cool”s and “I’m so jealous”s.

               “Okay wait,” Jimin interrupted. “Who is Alexandria the Annihilator?”

               “Yeah, she sounds awesome,” said Jungkook.

               “She was,” said Jimmy K. “I did my history thesis on her. She was a famous vampire who led the resistance in France against the church. She saved hundreds of vampires by hiding them and smuggling them out of the country, but she also killed thousands of humans. She was slain in the early 16th century, ending the resistance and the hunts for good. Her lineage still lives though; she supposedly had a daughter with a human man, but it was in the midst of the resistance, so her daughter was smuggled away, kept in hiding for a long time. No one knows if she was a human, or a vampire, or something in between, but she’s said to still be alive today.”

               “Anyway,” Taehyung continued. “Adrianna and I lived in France during the early 17th century, so almost a hundred years after all that bad stuff. We had a lot of fun together. I had a little dog during those years, Yeontan, and I got to learn all about vampire history and culture. I wanted to be a part of it, and I wanted to be with Adrianna forever, so I kept asking her to turn me. She kept reminding me that immortality becomes a curse if you’re alive too long, and that I should wait to make a decision like that. We studied philosophy together, and I learned about life and death, and what our purpose was on this earth, I learned about critical thinking and how to form arguments. And when I was in my early twenties, I asked her again to turn me. I gave her a proper argument and everything. And she did.

               “And then, during the 1800s, we came to America and she…” Taehyung trailed off, his smile fading. “And then I was alone for a while. But then I travelled west, met Namjoon, and have been living here ever since.”

               “Were you and Adrianna lovers?” asked Catalina. Taehyung shook his head.

               “No. We loved each other dearly, but I was in love with her. I think she might have been gay though,” he said. “She liked to dress as a man when we travelled, she called herself ‘Adrien’ when she did. Or maybe she might have been trans. Well, either way, she wasn’t interested in men.”

               “She sounds like she was a very interesting person,” said Jimin.

               “She was,” Taehyung said with a small smile.

               Catalina then automatically turned her attention to Yoongi, hoping he’d share his story next. Apparently, everyone had the same idea, because when Yoongi looked up, he said, “Why are you all staring at me?”

               “Aren’t you going tell us your story next?” asked Jimmy K.

               “Oh, it’s really not that interesting,” Yoongi said with a wave of his hand. “I don’t even remember it.”

               “Oh, you’re so funny,” Hoseok said with a laugh. “He’s lying.”

               Yoongi let out a deep sigh and sunk into the couch he was on.

               “Where to start?” he asked. 

[smutbymia]

into the woods

WARNING: violence & dystopian themes, alcohol consumption, minor sexual themes -- no smut (yet?) but lots of tension

Word Count: n/a i hit the limit lol

Pairing: Yuta Nakamoto x Female Reader

PLOT: In this world, the only safe places tend to be within the various compounds that each community is confined to. Between these compound’s is rainforest where war, crime, and danger tends to lurk -- it is the only place where there is no law and no authority, which makes it the perfect place for those who do not fair well with following the rules of the few societal structures that exist. Y/n leaves the compound on a research mission -- going beyond her usual limits, in the risk of making important medical advancements for her people, and finds herself in the underbelly of the uncharted territory. 

The afternoon air was crisp -- a very rare occurrence in the compound where most days were typically humid and damp. Weather like this usually meant others would be freely roaming around the grounds enjoying the outdoors without worrying about beads of sweat clinging to the sides of their foreheads or the warmth of the sun engulfing every inch of their skin.

You sat perched on the rooftop of the medical building watching as people continued with their usual tasks. Children with their hands firmly interlocked in each-others grasps spun in circles as they fell into a fit of giggles -- the warm breeze tearing through their hair. A smile spread across your face before disappearing once more as your eyes settled on a woman who pushed a cart down a narrow path between two other small structures as you noticed the slightest limp in her step. 

You drew your hair into a bun before rummaging around the the satchel you had slung across your chest. Your fingers landed on the pen you kept tucked in a compartment of the sack which you pulled out and stuck directly into your mouth before diving in once more to retrieve the medical notebook you had spent years filling with information. You flipped through the pages as you landed on a particular section of the book you used to keep track of treatments you wished to further develop. After scribbling a note down about joint pain, and potential herbs and plants you wished to further research for its treatment, you closed the book once more and shoved it, along with your pen back into the satchel before zipping it shut and swinging your legs back over the ledge of the roof. 

You crossed the top of the structure before descending a ladder that would take you back into the building, landing in a hallway that stretched across the third floor where approximately 7 rooms were located. Most staff of the medical centre stayed here, as the compound relied heavily on the availability of their services. It was a place you once stayed as well, before you decided to use her talents elsewhere. It was certainly rewarding to help others, but your curiosity in the field of medicine had gone beyond just working in the centre. You wanted to discover more, and you did. Now, you worked amongst a team of people tasked with the extraction of medicinal herbs and plants in the forest, whom the people of the compound referred to as scavenger medics. 

It was one of the many roles that existed in this locked off town. There were shopkeepers of all sorts, members of the government who supported the Father of the Compound -- who oversaw the community as its official leader, and a military team that worked to secure the outskirts of the compound, often venturing into the unlawful lands of the forest to conduct trades with neighbouring compounds in the eastern parts of the rainforest where it was safer to conduct business. The West, however, is where many refused to venture at all. Only those who became ex-pats of the compound or those banished for the most severe crimes where released into the west side of the rainforest. And once released, they were never heard of again.

“Actually, they say if you go out far enough west you’ll find someplace better to live,” you’d hear kids whisper in school, growing up. 

“No, they’ll cut your head off in the west forest!” was another legend that was commonly spread around the compound. But you knew the truth, or at least some of it. Yes, the west was dangerous, but it was also the part of the rainforest with the richest most rare resources. 

Before the passing of your father, he told you all about the west forest, which he often snuck to in search of rare herbs and plants. The little cabin located in a quiet and secluded area of the West Side of the Compound (where most people avoided due to its proximity to the “bad” parts of the forest), where he raised you was positioned perfectly by the large concrete barrier that surrounded the entire community. 

Only you and your father knew of the small opening he had managed to create years and years before that was concealed by thick shrubbery on the back of your family property. Because even the military could not patrol that particular corner of the wall due to the dense forestry that was directly on its other side, it served as the perfect blindspot -- and the only way you could discretely move in and out of the compound without anyone knowing, which happened to be extremely illegal. 

The sound of your combat boots echoed through the quiet hallway as you made your way towards the staircase. You walked past a few open doors where other medics were tucked away in their boarding rooms, either resting, rummaging through books, or working away at their desks. As you reached the staircase you gripped the banister, preparing to descend as a familiar voice rang out to stop you. 

“Y/n? Are you taking your leave of absence now?” you heard the head medic call out from his office.

    You hesitated, wondering if it was best to pretend like you hadn’t heard him before deciding that it would probably be best to solidify the lie you had been preparing. You turned on your heels to stand in the doorway, leaning against its frame. Doyoung was by far the best medic in the compound and had trained directly under your father for many years. He wasn’t much older than you. Though you weren’t exactly close, you did see him often growing up. What you liked most about him was his calm demeanour and the unspoken trust you both had for each other -- even though you did stretch the truth about the nature of your research leaves. 

“Yes, I’ve finished the briefing for the scavenger medics already. I’ll be off for about a week or so,” you mumbled quietly. It wasn’t until you peered around the side of the door that you noticed another medic sitting in the office as well. She was an older woman who was very caring but very nosy and had a tendency to ask way too many questions. You braced yourself as you watched her draw air into her lungs as her mouth fell open.

“A week or so? You’ll be gone that long?” she began while furrowing her brows with what appeared to be a look of concern, “And a young girl like you who lives on her own in the west end of the compound... I can stop by and --”.

You cut her off abruptly, “I’ll be fine. I don’t see visitors during my leave. It’s a part of my routine. I need to get some research done and reorganize treatment plans,” you answered cooly -- just as you had rehearsed. 

“But, we have office spare rooms here. Wouldn’t you feel more comfortable if--” she began. The look on your face must have been ice cold because Doyoung cut in for you this time. 

“Y/n, doesn’t like to be disturbed during her research leaves. I didn’t understand at first but her work speaks for itself. We’ll see her whenever she returns,” he said, looking up at you fondly. 

You offered up a weak smile before nodding your head at him and turning to leave without another word. 

    You rested your hand on the banister of the staircase again, stepping down as the wood creaked beneath your feet. Just as you neared the bottom you heard Doyoung speaking to the female medic.

    “She’s not unusual. She just takes after her father in every way and he was by far the smartest man I’ve ever known,” he reassured her. 

    You rolled your eyes. The nerve of that lady. There was no need to be mad, though. Many people thought of you that way but it was for the best because it kept them at a distance. Without that distance you wouldn’t be able to disappear for days on end without your absence being noticed. 

    The second floor of the medical building was very much like the third, except the rooms were larger and held beds for house patients while other rooms were used for medical checkups. The first floor, which you had finally reached was where medicinal treatments, from cats claw tea, to tuyuya vines extracted from the eastern parts of the forest -- everything needed for pain relief, detoxing, or even healing tonics like Ginseng were also packaged to be sold and prescribed to members of the compounds community. 

     You squeezed your way through the crowd of people who crammed into the small space as incense floated through the air, coating the lower floor with healing smells. People shopped for leisure and health purposes here, and came for their checkups. The compound was filled with people who worked to keep the community alive, and running as smoothly as possible. Those that did labour work frequented the medical pharmacy the most, and others such as midwives and cafe owners stopped by often to purchase supplies and products needed to maintain their businesses as well. 

    You pushed through the front door of the building, stepping right out onto the dirt road. The sky was beginning to turn a slight shade of yellow, signalling the beginning of golden hour.

  “One hour until the sun sets, then...”, you thought to yourself, “I better hurry.”

    ��You weaved through the people who strolled through the streets as the end of the work day approached as you made your way home, being sure to look up up at the sun as it moved positions, carefully keeping track of time. You took your usual shortcuts through a few back alleys while stopping to buy a few things like bread and matches and soon enough you had reached the west side of the compound. Mostly labour workers lived back here now. Most were middle aged and worked in the mines or in construction around the compound and for the most part stuck to themselves. A few had wives but once they had children opted to move to a more desirable area of the compound. You watched as the lanterns that lined the neighbourhood streets flickered on, faintly illuminating your path until you reached the end and went off road, trekking towards the bottom of a slight hill where your cabin was tucked away.

    Most people may have found the area a bit frightening but you knew the true beauty of what was ahead. The sound of the creek that ran alongside the property was the tell tale sign that you had reached your destination. The sun was due to set any minute now. 

     You pushed open your front door, not even waiting a second to rest. You tore off piece after piece of the bread you had purchased and shoving them past your lips, savouring the warm before putting the rest in your pantry and dusting your hands off on your shorts before making your way through the small cabin to change and pack your belongings up. 

       A quick trip out of the compound into the west forest didn’t last more than a few hours at most but you planned to make the most of it to limit the amount of times during your leave of absence that you would have to sneak away. The second the sun would set you planned on venturing out and returning just before sunrise again since it was risky to approach the outskirts of the compound during daylight. 

     You changed into a pair of black pants that hugged your body and a short sleeved cropped shirt before throwing on a sweater overtop and a pair of boots that were light, yet sturdy enough to navigate the wooded areas of the forest. Next, you needed to pack the small rucksack you planned on carrying with you. You had your medical kit prepared which included vials, and baggies that you used to transport medicinal herbs and extracted liquids, as well as other smaller containers used to carry seeds and uprooted plants you retrieved from the forest as well as bandages, gauze, disinfectant, and tools such as scissors and a compass. 

      Finally, you entered your fathers room which had remained virtually untouched since his death. After quickly shifting the rug under his worktable and carefully lifting the floorboard, you clicked open a small wooden box where you kept a collection of weapons. You retrieved two switchblades one small and the other larger, dropping one in your sack while the other remained tucked into the leather holster you wore around your waist before slipped the baton into a holster positioned around your thigh. And the most essential item of all was the leather bound travel notebook you carried with you to document research and keep track of the items you intended to return with because your usual notebook was far too valuable to bring with you on the outside.  

      You stood in front of the mirror in your fathers room as you drew your hair up into a high ponytail and casted a quick glance out of the window. The sun was officially set. As you made your way through your house, slipping into the backyard and locking up, you took a brief pause by the creek as you filled a canister with fresh water before fastening it to your sack. With one final glance back at your home and at the one faint source of light from a lamp you left on to mimic your presence, you approached the shrubbery hidden at the back of your property, parting it with your hands and falling to your knees, crawling the remainder of the way to the opening in the concrete wall that you squeezed through before emerging on the other end into another set of thick bushes.

     After crawling for another minute or two, you had made it out. You were careful to conceal your path once more as you rose to your feet, and broke off into a jog. You had successfully entered the west forest. 

Your father told you a lot about this area. You knew where to find the things you needed, you rummaged through your rucksack to retrieve your notebook and aimlessly flipped through the pages as you wandered through the thick of the woods, using the little bit of moonlight available to illuminate its pages. 

After about two hours or so you had retrieve a good amount of herbs and carefully packaged everything. You had worked through your list much faster than you originally expected and considered turning back to the compound before reaching a clearing. 

You squinted your eyes as you gazed across the river and over into a deeper part of the woods. You had never reached this river before but the thickness of the woods ahead made you feel compelled to cross. You could only imagine the plants that grew beyond the water and you stood idle fighting the urge to run across full force into the unexplored land. Just as you moved to step forward into the river, you heard the splashing of footsteps along the river bank. 

You stumbled backwards as you tried to retreat into the shadows to conceal yourself. Your hand travelled down to your waistband for your blade, and just as your fingers danced met the cool metal of its handle you felt someone grip your wrist. You almost let out a gasp until you felt the cool blade of a knife at your neck forcing you to hold your breath in unless you wanted it to cut the delicate skin under your chin. 

You stood motionless as your body was spun around away from the river. Your captor held you firmly in position as the back of your body pressed into his front, and his back was firmly positioned against the trunk of a tall tree. 

“Shh...” he said in a faint whisper directly into your ear. He was so close that you felt his lips brush against the lobe of your ear. Despite the delicate tone in his voice, his touch was strong, steady, and rough. You tried not to panic as you listened to the footsteps get closer and closer as they continued to splash down the bank of the river. You tried to shift under his grip but he held you tightly. You tried not to lose control of your breathing as you felt the anxiousness starting to build up. He must have sensed this as he shifted the blade a little further away from your skin. 

“Hold still, or I’ll have to kill you,” he said, his threat sounding again, like a delicate song whispered into your ear. You calmed under his touch, not wanting to provoke him. As the sound of the footsteps became more faint, you stood together for what felt like ages before he was confident enough that whoever was after him had long since disappeared. 

When you felt his grip relax, you moved your wrist in an attempt to distract him. As he tightened his grip on your right hand you used the opportunity to reach for the baton you had on your thigh, clicking the button on it and watching it extend itself out. It was enough to distract the man momentarily, as he removed the knife from your neck but wrapped himself completely around your body as he drew you with him to the ground, losing his stability as the two of you slid down a hidden embankment located a few steps away from the tree you had been up against earlier.

He held onto you firmly as the two of you rolled down the embankment before finally coming to a stop with you positioned above him. You scrambled quickly reaching for your blade as you straddled him, this time moving quicker than he was. As you pressed it to his neck the moonlight stretched across his face -- finally allowing you to get a good look at your captor. 

His gaze was dark, and his long silver hair was splayed around around his head as a few strands fell over his forehead. You were taken aback by his beauty, and as you both locked eyes you could see a smirk momentarily tug at the corner of his lips as you let out a gasp. He was... fucking beautiful, you thought. In fact, he looked nothing like any other man you had seen before. 

Within seconds he had reversed your position, straddling you in exchange, this time pinning your arm that held your blade above your head and roping his other hand around your neck. This time you didn’t fight back. You couldn’t. He leaned closer to your face, holding his own inches in front of yours. 

“Do you want to die quickly, or should I let you suffer?” he muttered under his breath as he slowly tightened his grip around your neck, limiting your breathing. You writhed underneath him as tears pooled in your eyes.

“Or...” he began, as he used his other hand to pry your switchblade free from your grip, “should i kill you with your own blade for giving me such a hard time?” 

You felt warm liquid drip onto the exposed skin of your stomach as you used the last bit of your strength as your vision went spotty to reach out and yank his shirt up, exposing his torso. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, as he winced in pain. 

“I-i can help,” you pleaded, your voice barely coming out in a whisper. “I can help you!” but you felt yourself slipping further and further away as your arm fell back to your side and your vision went black. 

You blinked a few times before regaining consciousness one more. Your eyes scanned your surroundings as you watched as the boy from earlier sat a few feet away from you, rummaging through your rucksack. 

You reached your hand up to your neck, rubbing at the sore flesh when his gaze landed back down on you.

 “Welcome back,” he muttered weakly as he pulled out your notebook and began thumbing through its pages slowly. 

Your eyes settled down on his shirt, noticing that the pool of blood in the fabric had grown significantly bigger.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” you complained as you lifted yourself up, wincing at the soreness you felt throughout your body. You approached him and this time neither of you moved to attack. 

His face was dripping in sweat as his skin was beginning to go pale. He sat against the bank, and dropped his head back as his energy quickly depleted. You lifted his shirt over his head, leaving him half naked to assess his wound. You thought maybe he had injured himself during your fall but the slash across the side of his abdomen made it clear that his injury was caused by a sharp weapon. You used his shirt to wipe away the excess blood. 

“You must have been bleeding for hours...” you muttered. He grunted in response, still with his eye closed. You reached for your bag and coated a cloth with disinfectant. He let out a loud hiss as it came in contact with his skin before you treated the wound with gauze and bandaging him up. He had passed out during the process and as you finally finished his eyes began to flutter open again. He ran his hand across his torso, feeling the bandage under his touch as his eyes met yours. 

“Why’d you do that? Are you really this stupid?” he asked. You rolled your eyes as you packed up your belongings and began retrieving your blade and baton without answering his question. He watched as you slipped your weapons back into their holsters and strapped your bag cross your back once more. 

Just as you were about to get up and leave he reached out to grab your wrist. 

“I. almost. killed. you.” he said through gritted teeth. You yanked your hand from his grip, growing tired of him touching you as if he had full agency of your body. 

“Yeah, I know. Thanks a lot,” you responded -- voice dripping in sarcasm. You shot him a cold glance as you got up and began making your way back up the bank. 

“Wait, where are you going?” he called after you. 

“Home,” you muttered as he immediately let out a scoff in response. 

“Nobody in the West Forest has a home. And if they do, they don’t make it back there alive,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“Good thing I’m not a nobody, then,” you snapped back. 

This time he let out an even louder laugh wincing as he drew himself to his feet. 

“Trust me, if you go back up that way you won’t make it back to your precious home alive,” he said as he looked up at the moon. “This is when they all come out to play,” he murmured under his breath. 

You rolled your eyes again as you ignored his words. As you took a step forward, you heard the sound of a single gun shot in the distance. It was enough for you to freeze on the spot. 

“We need to go. Now,” said the boy. He didn’t wait for you to respond before he pulled at your wrist and went off sprinting deeper into the rainforest. The air was damp, and the condensation that pooled on top of the leaves of the shrubbery you tore through together left you both covered in droplets of water. 

You were out of breath and panting when you reached a clearing. The boy with the silver hair still kept a firm grip on your wrist as he craned his neck up to the sky to look at the moon. He muttered to himself under his breath as he whipped his head around in every direction. You pulled out your compass from your pocket, trying to gain some sense of direction. You were getting further and further away from home and the sun would be rising soon. 

“This way,” he said as he continued to pull you further away from your compound. Eventually you reached a quiet area of the rainforest so hidden that you were surprised when you stumbled across it. Tipi like structures were scattered in the area and well hidden thanks to the way they were concealed with forestry in a camouflage like manor. 

The boy pulled you into the nearest one as he fumbled around before the inside was finally illuminated by a lantern. The both of you jumped in shock as he pushed you behind his body for protection, before sighing deeply. You peered around his shoulder, at the boys who sat cross legged in front of you. 

“Yuta, where the hell have you been... and who the fuck is she?” said one of them. He had black hair and big eyes. You held tightly to Yuta -- just now learning his name, out of fear.  His fingers were tightly roped in yours. You both glanced down at your hands before frantically pulling apart. 

“I... had to deal with something,” he said. Another boy with blonde hair who donned a slit in his eyebrow nodded his head in your direction. 

“And the girl? You know you can’t bring people back here right?” he asked. They all looked at you — gazes trailing every inch of your body. 

“Uh... I t-traded her,” he blurted out after failing to come up with an excuse. “I got her.. in a trade,” he finished. 

Your jaw dropped as you swatted at his shoulder, and shot him an icy look. 

“What I mean, is that she’s a medic. So she’s actually very useful to us,” he began, “so don’t see her as some random person I brought here because she’s... valuable, see?” he finished as he motioned to his torso. 

“Why would we need need another medic?” mumbled the third boy. He was tall and strong looking. He stood out from the rest because of his laid back stance.

“H-hi, my name is,” you began, before another boy dipped into the tent behind you both. He froze the second the two of you locked eyes.

“Y/N?” the voice called out in shock as they settled on your face. 

“D-doyoung?!” you screeched. Everyone in the tent fell silent and Yuta glanced slowly between the two of you.

Neither you nor Doyoung said a word to each other. His gaze remained attached to yours as his eyes conveyed what seemed like an endless combination of emotions.

He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t get the words out. Your eyes wandered over his body, shocked to see him dressed so differently. The man who worked as a medic who always donned a white uniform looked unlike himself. His hair, which was usually parted and styled to perfection was gelled back sloppily, and he was dressed head to do in dark military styled clothing. He looked like all of the other boys from the campground.

Yuta finally broke the never ending silence that had fallen across everyone in the enclosed space.

“I don’t know what’s going on but can this all wait until morning time? I’m sore and tired,” he complained as he ran his hand delicately over his bandaged torso while letting out a tiresome yawn.

He looked over at the boys seated behind you both and nodded his head in the direction of the exit as he encouraged them to leave what you now realized was his tent.

As they moved to get up, Yuta turned back to you.

“You’ll sleep here—“ he began before getting interrupted almost immediately by Doyoung.

“No. She won’t,” he blurted out sternly.

Yuta, who was still looking at you, turned towards Doyoung with his eyebrows raised before a smirk stretched across his face.

It was similar to the one you had seen earlier when you straddled him with your knife pressed to the skin of his neck. One side of his mouth titled upwards and his eyes glinted in amusement. You cursed yourself for even getting distracted by the thought as you tried to clear your head and focus on what was going on right now inside the tent.

“Is she your girlfriend or something?” he taunted as he cocked his head to one side.

Doyoung’s cheeks flushed a barely visible shade of pink as he scoffed before muttering under his breath a weak “Of course not.”

“Then what’s the problem, doc?” said Yuta — his words dripping in venom this time.

Knowing Doyoung and his usually calm demeanour, you fully expected him to surrender and abandon whatever argument the men seemed to be on the brink of. But to your surprise he did the opposite.

“She works for me. I’m responsible for her!” he spat back. The other boys who had been in the process of leaving the tent, paused as they observed the interaction.

“Yeah, well she owes me,” said Yuta calmly.

“For what exactly?” inquired Doyoung.

“For not killing her earlier when I had the chance,” he said shrugging. Yuta ran his fingers through his silver locks aimlessly as if his words were meaningless.

“Hey, I saved your life... so technically we’re even,” you whined.

“Yeah but I brought you here instead of leaving you stranded with those gunmen running around,” Yuta reminded you as he flashed you a cheeky grin.

Doyoung’s eyes went wide from shock at Yuta’s prior admission to almost killing you before he zeroed in on your neck where your skin donned a few faint finger shaped bruises.

“W-what the hell? You did that to her?” he said glaring at Yuta, “he did this to you?!” he yelled as he diverted his gaze right back to you as his eyes franticly looked back and forth between your face and your neck.

Yuta rolled his eyes. Doyoung on the other hand was extremely riled up.

“Y/n, wait outside,” Doyoung said through gritted teeth as he glared at Yuta. You opened your mouth to protest at his order — not appreciating his tone, until Yuta placed a hand on the small of your back and sighed while delicately urging you to exit the tent.

“It’s okay,” was all he said as you reluctantly exited the tent, followed by the other three boys as Doyoung watched you with what seemed like an expression of anger and pain all in one.

Once you made it out the tent you could hear the strained noises of Yuta and Doyoung arguing back and forth.

The other boys quickly surrounded you. The first one to speak was the tall, relaxed one from earlier.

“I’m Johnny,” he said. Then he gestured towards the other boy with black hair and bright eyes “this is mark, and this is Taeyong,” he finished as he gestured towards the blonde boy with the slit in his brow.

“Y/n,” was all you could mutter in response as you craned your neck to look past them towards the tent.

“Your presence seems to have caused quite a bit of drama,” said Johnny as he chuckled.

“Where are you from anyway?” asked Mark curiously.

“The same compound as Doyoung,” you said. The boys exchanged suspicious glances with achother.

“So what were you doing in the west forest?” asked Taeyong.

You went on a brief spiel, recounting the events of the night — omitting the details of how you managed to sneak out of the compound. By the end the boys were chuckling a bit as you explained how you had held Yuta at knifepoint and then managed to end up back at the tents.

“Leave it to Yuta to almost die at the hands of a pretty girl in the middle of the forest,” Mark joked. The other boys agreed that it seemed very on brand for their friend to end up in such an unpredictable situation. However, they admitted it was very unusual for him to look out for someone the way he had for you.

“Speaking of...” you began as you had finally circled back to Yuta’s tent after walking in circles as you fell into conversation with the boys. “I wonder what’s going on in there. They’ve been talking for ages. I’m exhausted,” you complained.

“You could always sleep in my tent,” teased Mark before he jumped, absolutely startled by the heavy hand that had just landed on his shoulder.

“Do you have a death wish?” Yuta asked as he squeezed at the side of marks neck. The other boys stifled a laugh as Doyoung appeared with a stern expression by their sides while Mark winced in pain.

Doyoung approached you. “We need to talk,” he said as he walked off. You trailed behind him as you heard the boys and Yuta fall into conversation behind you.

“What, do you have a crush on her or something?” squealed Mark.

“What makes you think you could handle someone like her, baby?” Yuta teased at the youngest of the group.

“I heard she almost slit your throat so I doubt you can handle her anymore than I can,” Mark scoffed. Taeyong and Johnny broke into a fit of laughter as Yuta drew Mark into a headlock and the boys began to playfully scuffle.

Doyoung had taken you down to a small river that was situated near the campgrounds before turning to you.

“I bet you have a lot of questions,” he said. Truthfully, you didn’t even know where to begin. So much had happened over the last few hours and even though seeing Doyoung was probably the most surprising of all those things, you seemed to be at a loss for words. You looked up at him before shrugging softly and kicking the tiny pebbles by your feet into the water.

“First off, are you alright?” he asked as he reached out to touch your neck. You winced as his fingers came in contact with one of the small bruises left behind by Yuta.

“I’m fine, it’s just a little sore,” you answered. “What are you even doing out here, Doyoung?” you questioned.

He didn’t even hesitate before answering. “I’m working on something. There are certain things you don’t know about the compound,” he explained.

“What things?” you questioned.

“Well... it’s really complicated. But what I can say is that there are bad things going on there with the government,” he said hesitantly. You went wide eyed as you turned to him, hoping for answers.

“I can’t explain everything right now. You just can’t tell anyone that you’ve seen me here. And you can’t come out here again. I’m guessing you left through your fathers tunnel?” he asked. You were taken aback. You thought his tunnel had been a secret.

“H-how did you know?” you asked.

“He taught me a lot, y/n. He just left before we could get our real work done. I knew you left during your leaves from work but I didn’t expect you to come this deep into the forest. He told me that you were taught to stay within specific boundaries!” Doyoung said, as he scolded you.

“I did. If I hadn’t run into Yuta then-“ you began, before Doyoung cut him off.

“Yuta isn’t someone you should be hanging around. None of these guys are. You don’t belong here. You need to stay at the compound where it’s safer for you,” he argued.

At this point it was getting annoying. All these years your relationship had remained casual and distant and now he seemed to have transformed in an instant and become far too comfortable barking orders at you.

“You just said it yourself that there are bad things going on at the compound so why does it matter?” you spat.

“Because there are killers roaming this forest. You don’t understand what it’s like out here!” he yelled.

“And you do?” you challenged.

Doyoung sighed as he squeezed the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“I’ve been out here for years, y/n. You don’t know the half of it. You need to trust me,” he pleaded.

“You can’t expect me to trust you when you aren’t telling me anything,” you replied.

“Population control,” he stated abruptly. You opened your mouth to question him but he spoke again before you could get any words out.

“Resources have been running low for years. They’re controlling the population in the compound. People are being kicked out for crimes they didn’t commit. New uncontrollable illnesses are popping up slowly. There have been talks about the father being responsible. The compound is conducting shady trades and even seem to have some criminals from the west forest involved. I’ve been working with a few trusted people to expose it all and change things but...” he blurted our quickly.

“You’re staging a coup d’état?” you gasped. Doyoung sighed again.

“It’s not that simple. This is something that has been going on long before we were old enough to understand. This is something your father worked on too. He is one of many that wanted to liberate the compound. Not just ours either. He wanted to take back the forest and live in an open society like in the old days,” Doyoung explained.

Your head spun with the new information that had suddenly been dumped on you. You couldn’t even speak. For what felt like forever, you both stood in silence.

“I have to get back to the compound. I managed to slip away from the crowd but the rest of the head medics are going to grow suspicious soon if I don’t make it back east,” said Doyoung.

“B-but what about the gunmen?” you asked.

“I’ve been escorted to a meeting point by the some military men from the compound. I’m the only person authorized to do that in order to get some harder to find medical resources. I usually wouldn’t be able to come this Far East but one of the children of the Father of the Compound have been ill with an ongoing condition since he was a child and it’s worsened so I’ve been making more frequent trips. I’m the only person who has special permission to venture off alone and its because the father really wants to keep his child’s condition private,” he began, “so I need to get back to the meeting point quickly. They’ll escort me back.”

You nodded before Doyoung spoke again.

“I spoke with Yuta. He’ll get you back to the compound sometime within the next 3 days. Please just stay on the campgrounds and out of trouble until then,” he warned.

The two of you made your way back towards the campgrounds. Doyoung slipped away back into the forest after you said your goodbyes and you walked the rest of the way back.

Everyone had seem to retreat back into their respective tents as you approached Yuta’s. You ducked through the opening before pulling it closed behind you again. The tent felt much more spacious now that there weren’t as many people stuffed inside but to your surprise, Yuta was not inside.

You made your way over towards the flat sleeping mattress that was placed in a section of the tent as you decided to wait for him to return. That was the last thing you remembered as you fought the feeling of exhaustion that had finally overcome your body as you slipped into a deep sleep in the unfamiliar space.

The next morning you woke up to warmth and the feeling of your head rising and falling ever so slightly.

“This is relaxing,” you mumbled to yourself despite being half asleep.

Your head began to shake as a soft chuckle tumbled through Yuta’s chest as he answered quietly, “is it?”. Your eyes flew open within seconds as you realized you had been draped over his body and your head was currently resting against his chest.

“Oh my god.. OH MY GOD,” you gasped as you pulled yourself off of him and drew yourself into a seated position on the mattress in an attempt to create as much distance between you and Yuta as you possibly could.

Yuta still laughed softly. Your cheeks burned with heat as you could feel them begin to flush. You couldn’t help but wonder how long you had been sleeping like that. You were so tired the night before that you barely remembered falling asleep and definitely didn’t remember hearing or feeling yuta get into bed.

“W-why would you sleep here?” you scolded.

“Well this is my tent and my bed,” he answered as he slowly lifted himself up, being mindful of the bandage on his torso. He drew a shirt over his head as you watched him get dressed. His hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and despite it being morning time, he still looked so beautiful.

“Well you should have woken me up instead of just—“ you began.

“Instead of what? Becoming your human pillow? You didn’t seem to mind when you were sleeping like a baby all night,” he teased.

You pouted at Yuta as he winked back at you before dropping to his knees back on the mattress. He leaned towards you while resting on his hands as your heart began to beat faster. The closer he got to you the bigger the smile on his face became.

You leaned back away as his body drew closer to yours and his face hovered towards you. When he was close enough to bridge the gap between the two of you, you squeezed your eyes shut and pushed your hands out against his chest to stop him from moving as you braced yourself.

A few seconds passed but nothing. You opened up your eyes again with your hands still firmly against Yuta’s chest as you met his gaze.

He held back laughter as he reached one of his hands behind you and out of sight before it emerged again in your line of vision, this time with a stainless steel water bottle in his grasp which he had been reaching for the entire time while you were in the way. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, princess,” he chuckled before leaning away from you again and getting up. He made his way to the exit of the tent before slipping out.

“Wait here,” he muttered before disappearing and leaving you flustered, a bit embarrassed, and frankly still tired. You flopped back down on the mattress with a loud groan as you pulled the blankets over your head as you drifted back to sleep with thoughts of that cheeky bastard in your head.

The next time you woke up, you were alone. There was however a plate of fruit from the forest and some other greenery in a bowl waiting for you by the mattress. You didn’t hesitate for even a second before diving in. You hadn’t realized how hungry you had been.

Outside had grown gloomy again making you feel as though you were beginning to lose perception of time all together. It must have been a little while until sunset which meant you had slept through almost the entirety of the day.

You were finishing off the last bit of avocado that was left in your bowl when you heard someone call your name from outside of the tent.

You made your way outside only to find out that it was Mark who had been calling you.

“Sick! You’re finally awake!” he said excitedly. “Dude do you always sleep this much?” he giggled.

“Ugh, don’t even get me started. I don’t know how I managed to sleep for so long. I must have had a rough night,” you whined.

“Oh yeah, how did you sleep?” he asked. You blushed as the memory of this morning returned to you. The thought of being cuddled up to Yuta like that had slipped your mind yet you couldn’t help but feel the same level of embarrassment all over again now that Mark had unknowingly reminded you.

“Uh... y/n?” he called out as he waved a hand in front of your face.

“O-oh, I slept okay. I’m just still a little sore,” you murmured as you snapped out of your thoughts. You rubbed aimlessly at the bruises on your neck.

Mark tsked as he reached out to softly run his hands over your neck. “Yuta... that idiot. Why would he hurt you like this?” he said as he shook his head.

“She could have been dangerous,” said Taeyong as he walked up behind Mark to join in on the conversation.

“Yeah right. Yuta just likes to play rough,” Mark said as he dropped his hand.

“Well if it hurts that bad then we have the perfect thing to make you feel better, y/n,” said Taeyong as a small smile played on his lips.

“Guys! It’s ready!” yelled Johnny from across the tent grounds. The boys glanced at each other, smiling. Mark grabbed your wrist as he pulled you through the campgrounds past a series of empty tents until you reached a raging bonfire in its center.

“Where is everyone else?” you asked after noticing that you hadn’t seen anyone but the boys since your arrival

“Most of them are away dealing with business in the forest. A few others patrol the outer parts of the campground in shifts and alternate every few days so it’s just us for the next week,” answered Taeyong.

“Which is why tonight we are gonna celebrate the arrival of our dear y/n... and by celebrate I mean eat and get drunk because we finally have this place to ourselves,” said Johnny as he pulled out a large container filled with questionable liquid and held it over his head.

The four of you passed around more fruits and vegetables, grilling things over the bonfire along with some meat. The questionable alcoholic mixture Johnny had managed to make was actually surprisingly good and it didn’t take long for everyone to get buzzed. You cooed at the warm feeling in your stomach as you stuffed your mouth with food.

“Mmm, I’ll never get over how great fresh food tastes right out of the forest,” you squealed. The boys looked on in amusement.

“Maybe there are some perks to being out here after all,” muttered Johnny.

You all continued to drink and eat for a while as the sun set for the day. Eventually you fell into conversation with the boys whom it turns out you got along with quite well.

“Wait, where’s Yuta?” you slurred, tilting your head to the side.

As if on cue, he emerged from the shadows looking a bit dishevelled.

“Did you miss me?” he taunted as he approached the rest of the group, grabbing what was left of the plentiful amount of food you had grilled to eat. His eyes settled on the container of alcohol before letting out a deep sigh.

“No wonder I could hear you guys from the other side of the campgrounds. Why would you let these idiots get you drunk, princess?” he questioned as he shoved a piece of meat into his mouth and poured himself a cup of the mixture.

“Who me? I’m not drunk!” you slurred again. The boys giggled at the high pitched sound of your drunk voice. Taeyong, Mark and Johnny got up to retrieve more firewood while they continued chatting away. They occupied themselves with the bonfire as Yuta settled down next to you.

“You sleep like a baby and now that you’re drunk, you sound like one too,” said Yuta while forcing a slice of mango past your lips.

The juices from the fruit trickled down your chin as he fed you. To his surprise, you wrapped your lips around his fingers, suckling softly at the juices that coated his fingers.

Yuta’s mouth fell open slightly as he slowly pulled his fingers away from you. He chuckled softly as his gaze went dark.

“Play nice,” he said sternly. You rolled your eyes at his warning before shrugging.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, where have you been all day?” you said, changing the subject.

“Just handling business,” he muttered. You pouted in response. You knew very well the kind of trouble Yuta seemed to find himself in while away from the campground.

“Doyoung told me about our compound but I just realized that he didn’t tell me much about what any of it has to do with you guys,” you complained.

“Don’t whine. It’s nothing you need to worry about. I’m gonna get you back to the compound tomorrow night like he asked,” Yuta answered.

“That’s so soon...” you said as your voice dropped down to a soft murmur.

“I know it must be nice to have a bunch of guys take care of you but did you really think you were going to live here forever or something?” he scoffed.

You shot him a cold glance before getting up from next to him and muttering under your breath, “whatever.”

You ditched him and joined the other boys by the fire as you cozied up next to Mark who was just as drunk as everyone else. It was only Yuta that hadn’t caught up yet and at this point his attitude was killing your vibe.

The boys were engaged in an animated conversation about grilling meat when you joined them. They argued over who amongst the group was the best at their grilling techniques.

“You have to hold it still for a minute before flipping it on to the next side!” Johnny yelled.

“Nonono, you’re holding it too close to the fire. It has to be higher!” said Taeyong as he cringed at Johnny’s method.

“Nah watch this,” said Mark as he placed a piece of meat on the end of a metal rod and shoved it directly into the flames before pulling it out again.

“Dude, you burned it,” laughed Johnny.

“Wait! That was a mistake. It wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said as he drunkenly giggled. You took the rod from him and placed another piece of meat on the end as you expertly rotated it for a few minutes over the fire, dipping it ever so slightly into the flames. Mark watched wide eyed as you held the rod in front of your lips and blew softly on the meat to cool it down before pulling it off of the metal and holding it out for him to taste. 

Mark opened his mouth as you placed the piece of meat into his mouth, letting your fingers brush softly against his lips as they lingered on his skin. Yuta froze,, watching the exchange between the two of you.

“Dang, this tastes so good,” Mark moaned as he chewed away at the meat. You smiled as you watched him savour the taste.

“We should put the fire out before the smoke becomes too obvious,” suggested Taeyong. He grabbed a few buckets while Johnny joined him. 

“We’ll come with!” offered Mark as he got up and drew you to your feet. “The rivers fun at night time,” he chuckled as he pulled you towards the direction you had gone in the night before with Doyoung. The two of you stumbled along the forest in a fit of giggles as Johnny and Taeyong trailed behind you with the buckets. Yuta sat alone by the fire seething as he watched you and Mark run off into the distance. 

Once you had reached the river, Mark wasted no time tugging at his shoes before splashing his way into the water and groaning at the cool feeling  of the mini waves against his toes. He splashed about, drawing you in with him. Johnny and Taeyong filled up the buckets with water. 

“We’re gonna head back before that fire gets out of hand,” yelled Johnny as the two boys turned away, leaving you and Mark alone.

“You’re in trouble now,” Mark teased as he reached down and flicked water up from the stream all over you -- making you squeal as it seeped through your clothing. You returned his actions by kicking at the water below you as the two of you messed about like children. 

You hadn’t heard him at first but a dark figure by the edge of the river caught your eye as you froze. Mark, who had continued splashing you, stopped and followed your gaze. 

“Yuta hyung, you scared the shit out of me!” he said as he sighed a sigh of relief at the sight of his friend. 

Yuta stumbled slightly as he approached the two of you, words slurring ever so slightly as he called out “Mark, y/n is drunk. It’s too dangerous to play around in the river like this!”

Mark chuckled before responding, “She’s a big girl so there’s no need to coddle her.”

Yuta’s expression went cold as he walked into the water and grabbed you by the wrist. “That’s enough princess,” he warned -- clearly fed up with your antics. 

You opened up your mouth to speak but Yuta cut you off as he addressed Mark. 

“Fun’s over, baby. Go back and help the boys clean up. I’ll take care of her,” he said. Mark shrugged and stumbled out of the water before picking up his shoes and disappearing into the forest towards the campground. 

You stood frozen in front of Yuta. “Doyoung will be very upset if he finds out what you’ve been up to,” he scolded. You huffed -- suddenly feeling like a child who has being told off by their father. 

“I haven’t done anything wrong!” you insisted, still feeling warm from the amount of alcohol coursing through your body. You poked a finger into Yuta’s chest as you pouted your lips at him. 

“Y-you’re just jealous,” you taunted. 

“Of?” he asked.

“M-me and --” you began before you were rudely interrupted by Yuta’s deep and powerful laugh. What scared you was the fact that his laugh stopped just as fast as it started. 

He drew you close to him, squeezing your chin between his fingers as he hovered closely to your face. 

“Is that what you’ve been doing all night long? Trying to make me jealous?” he asked as his expression changed -- making him look very amused instead. You huffed again, shaking your way out of his grasp and making your way out of the water. It wasn’t until your feet were back on land that you realized how drunk you really were. 

The ground seemed to be rocking underneath you as you struggled to keep your balance. You stumbled, nearly falling over before becoming engulfed in Yuta’s arms. You tried not to throw up the contents of your stomach as he lifted you off the ground and into his arms. 

“You’re so annoying, you know that? And mean too,” you mumbled as you rested your head in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you carefully towards the campgrounds. 

“You’re no angel either. Don’t think i’ve forgotten about what you did to me earlier,” he whispered into your ear. His voice sent shivers down your spine as you recalled the mango incident. 

“Dang, what happened to her?” asked Taeyong as Yuta approached him and the rest of the boys as they cleaned up the final bits of the little party they had thrown. 

“Looks like Johnny’s juice finally hit her,” Yuta teased. Johnny smiled proudly knowing his creation was a hit. 

You finally arrived at Yuta’s tent and he carried you all the way inside before putting you down and holding you at your shoulders to ensure that you were steady enough to stand on your own. 

“Shit, I’m soaked,” you mumbled to yourself as you pulled at your shirt, growing uncomfortable with the feeling of the wet fabric against your skin. 

Yuta rummaged around in his tent before pulling out a dry shirt for you to put on. He passed it to you before ducking out of the tent to let you change. He waited before you poked your head out, and carried your wet clothing with you to hang outside to dry, still drunk and giggly. 

Yuta watched as you hung your shirt, and pants but went wide eyed when he saw you hang up a pair of panties as well. His cheeks flushed pink as he unconsciously allowed his eyes to run over your body, noticing the way the fabric would momentarily cling to the parts of your body as you moved making it very evident that you were in fact naked underneath it. 

He ducked back into the tent as he stripped down to change as well. He had just put his shorts, still shirtless, when you pushed through the opening of the tent. You clambered across the mattress and fell back with a deep sigh. Yuta lowered himself down to climb into bed next to you. “Get some rest, I’m taking you home tomorrow,” he said. “I don’t wanna leave,” you groaned as you stretched your arm across his body and rested your head on his chest like the night before. Yuta naturally let his arm circle around your body as if you slept like this together all the time. You started to drift off to sleep, feeling the rise and fall of Yuta’s chest and his fingers combing softly through your hair. You didn’t expect any of this to happen but you were grateful. The cold girl that walked through the compound and kept to herself was gaining some warmth again. She smiled more, and giggled, and felt less lonely outside of her isolated town. You couldn’t help but hear the words of the compound children echoing in your mind as you finally fell asleep -- “I heard if you go far enough west, you’ll find a better place to live.”

Let me know if you want a part 2! <3

[c-optimistic]

Happy prompt: the Danvers sisters discovering the joy of couch cuddles, and how they perfected the art over the years?

The first time was out of pity.

Kara had only been on Earth for a measly few months, and school was decidedly not going well. The humans made fun of the way she talked, the careful way she walked, how she jumped at noises no one else could hear, how she locked herself in the restroom during lunch to avoid the crowds. Eliza and Jeremiah assured her it would get better over time, had given Alex a look (as if blaming her for the actions of Kara’s classmates), and then offered Kara an extra hour of television that night (as if hoping a Star Trek re-run would get Kara’s mind off her dread at going back to school the next day).

Alex stared at Kara from the other end of the couch, looking terribly uncertain. Her fingers twitched, as if she wanted to reach out or maybe click off the television or (more likely) maybe point an accusing finger at Kara and blame her for Eliza and Jeremiah’s quiet disappointment. Kara turned her head, looking away from Spock and Captain Kirk and all the inaccuracies of human imagination, and focused her eyes on Alex.

“They shouldn’t have done that,” Alex blurted after a moment, turning to stare at her lap. Her fingers twitched some more.

“Who should not have done what?” Kara asked, adjusting her glasses and tilting her head slightly to the side. She wasn’t quite good at controlling her powers yet, so along with Alex’s unsteady heartbeat, its hard pounding, she could also hear the rush of blood, the scratching of joint and bone as Alex continued to fidget. A part of Kara—an unfortunately significant part of Kara—worried that Alex was about to blame her.

“The kids at school,” Alex clarified, meeting Kara’s eyes. For the first time, there was something other than impatience and annoyance in them. There was a lot of pity—too much for Kara’s liking—but something else. Something softer, something familiar.

(She thought it was reminiscent of the way Eliza or Jeremiah looked at her.

The way her own parents looked at her back on Krypton.

Warm. Familial.)

“I am...different,” Kara said, frowning. “Your species doesn’t like those who are different.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, shifting on the couch so that she was sitting right next to Kara. After a moment's hesitation, she grabbed Kara’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Humans are an unevolved species, I think. We have really bad tendencies.”

“And good ones, too,” Kara offered, trying to mollify Alex. She gestured towards the television. “You humans are creative. Funny. Kind, when you want to be. And you’re a young species, with a yellow sun. You have so much to learn.”

Alex squeezed Kara’s hand again. “You don’t have to worry about those kids anymore,” she said, her eyes taking on a dangerous glint. “I had a talk with them.” Kara blinked, realizing talk wasn’t the word Alex had in mind, only then noticing the scattering of bruises on her knuckles.

“You—” Kara stopped, frowning. “Why would you hurt yourself for me?” 

“What are sisters for?” Alex asked, shrugging easily. Then, while Kara was still struggling to catch up, to come to terms with the easy way Alex had finally offered her acceptance, Alex shifted and put an arm around Kara’s shoulder. 

“W-what’s this?” Kara asked, pressing awkwardly against Alex, knowing her elbow was digging into Alex’s side, their legs uncomfortably stiff. 

“Well, it’s supposed to be a hug.” Alex sounded vaguely amused, and didn’t move even though Kara knew she couldn’t have liked their hug. “Let’s make it a thing, yeah? You and me, whenever something happens. Ice cream, shitty television, and unlimited couch cuddles. A...sister night.” 

Kara leaned into Alex’s one armed hug, her so-called couch cuddle, and she grinned. “Sister night,” she repeated, watching Star Trek cut to commercial. “Ice cream, cuddles, and shitty television sounds good.” 

From where she’d just passed by, Eliza shouted language! but Kara’s focus was on Alex, who was nodding somberly in agreement. 

Alex. Her sister. 

x

The hundredth or so time came when Alex was supposed to leave for college. 

They were in their living room, where they sat and cried together after Jeremiah died, where Alex talked about her dates with a lackluster tone, where Kara discovered her love for potstickers. 

Tonight, they were watching The Princess Bride for the thousandth time, Alex mouthing all of Inigo’s lines, making Kara laugh. They were sitting right next to each other on the couch, Kara with her legs curled under her, Alex with one leg propped up on the coffee table and the other pulled up to her chest. Their arms were linked, Alex’s head on Kara’s shoulder. An empty pint of ice cream sat on the floor in front of them.

“This is the best movie,” Kara said as Westley fought the Rodent of Unusual Size. “But I never understood why Buttercup just stands there for most of the fight. Surely she could do something.” 

“Kara, she’s a princess. Obviously she’s not supposed to do anything. How else would she know Westley’s love is true?” Alex said sarcastically. 

“I would do something,” Kara complained.

“You also have super powers. I don’t know if that’s fair.” 

“National City is really far away,” Kara muttered, getting to the point of their sister night. Alex sighed and pulled away, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and pausing the movie.

“I know it is,” she said, sounding contrite. “And it’s not forever. You know that.” 

“What about Sister Nights?” Kara asked, glaring at Alex now. She was leaving, abandoning her. And for something as silly as college? Kara could teach her everything she wanted to know herself. Earth was, after all, fairly primitive. If wondrous. 

“They’re not going anywhere, Kara. We’ll have Sister Nights when you visit, when I come home, when you eventually go to NCU. This little thing can’t get in the way of the Danvers Sisters.”

“I could just fly over and see you.” 

Alex fixed Kara with an unimpressed look. “No, you can’t.”

“I meant in an airplane, what were you thinking?” 

Alex laughed, though her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Kara knew she could expect frequent phone calls to the landline in the near future, Alex making sure she was safe and at home and definitely not using her powers.

(A side effect of having a sister, Kara learned, was that she’d protect you from anything—even, and especially, from yourself.) 

“You know,” Alex said a long time later, when Kara was leaning on her shoulder, comfortable enough and close enough to Alex that she was okay with the casual contact—with their shoulders pressed together, heads close. “One day, we might be too old to have Sister Nights.”

Kara scoffed. “Never. Even when we’re old and grey, Alex Danvers, we’re having ice cream, shitty television, and cuddles.” 

x

At some point, Kara lost count of their Sister Nights. 

(There were years and years of them. After first dates, after heartbreaks, after deaths, after weddings, after every tiny life thing and every big life thing.

Through it all, a constant. Her sister, Alex, and her sister’s first promise, faithfully kept: ice cream, shitty television, and cuddles.) 

This time, they were both sore: Kara from having to chase an alien around all day, nearly blowing out her powers, and Alex from chasing Kara around. Alex handed over a beer and took a sip of her own before settling on the couch next to Kara. 

There was an ease to their movements now, a practiced sort of muscle memory. Kara always sat to Alex’s right. They’d always start with Alex’s head on Kara’s shoulder, then would switch. They’d always hook arms, shoulders pressed tightly together. They’d always eventually put away the alcohol and the ice cream, pause the movie they were watching, and would just talk. 

It was routine. A comfort. A thing that the others learned they could never intrude on—not even wives or kids were allowed in on Sister Night. 

“Kelly wants to try private school. But I don’t. Public schools are good, great even. You and I turned out okay.”

“You’re a secret genius and I’m an alien whose people were highly advanced. I don’t know if we’re exactly the shining examples of a public school education.”

“Plenty of people went to public school and did just fine.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Kara said, handing over the ice cream and setting her beer aside. “Just that maybe you need to talk to your wife about what school you want to send your kid.” Kara shot Alex a look, raising her eyebrow like Lena taught her. “Your daughter is also only two. I don’t know why this is a thing right now.” 

“Sure, take Kelly’s side,” Alex joked, rolling her eyes. “I can’t wait till you and Lena have kids and I can make fun of you panicking over everything. Lena,” Alex said, putting on an affected voice, clearly trying to imitate Kara, “what if they have powers like Clark’s kids? Lena, please let me teach them how to fly. Lena—”

“—joke’s on you, Lena has already said I can teach our kids to fly. As long as she’s the only who handles bedtime stories. Apparently, no Princess Bride.” 

“Fair. We may watch that movie too much.” 

“It’s a classic.” 

Alex hummed in agreement, shifting slightly so that Kara could rest her head on her shoulder. “We should retire from the saving the world business,” Alex said, groaning as Kara got comfortable, accidentally jostling Alex and exacerbating her soreness. 

“The world would fall apart without us,” Kara said. 

“Very fair. The Danvers Sisters—”

“—we should come with a warning,” Kara finished, grinning widely. She felt Alex tug on her arm, pulling her into a comfortable side hug, and her eyes slowly shut. “Thank you, by the way. For being there with me every step of the way today. I know you’ve been pulling back from the field for Kelly and your daughter.” 

Alex hummed again, this time just indicating she’d heard. She tightened the hug. “What are sisters for?” she asked. 

Kara grinned. Nearly two decades later, Alex. Her sister. 

[prismatales]

Phonecall

Anon asked: Hi I was wondering if I could request an ~angsty~ fic where Todo finds out his s/o got severely injured in a fight, since they intern under a pro hero?

OOoooh! My first Angsty request! Let's see how this turns out! *cracks knuckles* Since you didn't specify the pronouns I'm going for a gender neutral character.

The mission had been a success, or so had everyone thought the moment the Pros, sidekicks and interns -including you- had finally apprehended all members of the Hallow Brotherhood, one of the most dangerous organizations to be known in the underground all over Japan.

The outcome of the raid had been expected, the organization's dealings with the black market, human trafficking and drugs dealings had been discovered and dealt with, ending their vicious rule once an for all.

Unfortunately success always comes with a price.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye, the mission was supposed to go effortlessly, that was the sole reason only a few sidekicks and you had been sent to a reckon mission during the raid on the other side of the building, for an operation which was meant to be done in a matter of minutes:

Scout the perimeter, find as much additional evidence you could about the organization; Their leaders, suppliers and connections all around the black market and go back to the meeting point in three hours...Easy, right?

But nothing's simple when it comes to success and hero work, your team found out the hard way...

...

To say Todoroki was worried was but a mere minimization of his current emotions, he was shaking from anxiety, he had been on edge since you started the internship and were called to assist with this mission. While Midoriya, Kirishima, Tsuyu and Uraraka were on their own assignment, you had been requested by another group of Pros, alongside Setsuna Tokage from class 1-B for a different operation, but still as top secret and high-priority as theirs.

After their run in with Stain in Hosu, Todoroki didn't hear the end of it from his s/o, the moment he stepped inside the classroom. The agitated look in their eyes made it crystal clear that (Y/N) had been worried sick the instant the news of the hero killer injuring three students of U.A. had been released to the public.

Yes, hero work was not and would never be a walk in the park, someone was always bound to get hurt, everybody knew that, and yet it didn't pacify your nerves after hearing about your boyfriend and friend's altercation with one of the most dangerous villains in Japan.

An agreement had been made between you both, now matter what you were doing; training, exams, internships, official hero work once you graduated, you'd always call each other as soon as the mission was over.

"Promise me you'll call?"

He remembered those puppy eyes and that pout he just couldn't bring himself to refuse, of course he wasn't going to say no to begin with. Gently grabbing your hands and kissing the knuckles softly, Todoroki let out a reassuring smile that helped calm down the small pit of concern growing inside your stomach.

"I promise"

That was months ago, and he remembered every single time you both called each other if anything happened.

The time of the training camp? You were the first one to call him in the middle of the attack to make sure he was fine.

When he followed Midoriya and the other to rescue Bakugo? He called you once everyone was safe and sound.

Your very first day on patrol during your current internship? He got a call as soon as you were done and back at the agency.

And yet he couldn't stop the uneasiness slowly accumulating inside of him, you said the mission would take long, but he never thought it would be this long. The air around him was tense, anyone that got close enough to him could sense the suffocating feeling inside the dorm.

Iida was the first one to approach, placing a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder in hopes of helping calm down the heterochromatic guy's nerves.

"Todoroki, I understand that you're worried but remember, (Y/N) is quite a competent hero, there's no reason to be worried about" His hand moved on its own, making his signature gestures as he attempted to help his classmate and close friend.

Nobody was prepared to hear Mina gasp from her spot on the tables were she and the girls were studying together. Her hands covered her mouth in horror at the scene that appeared on her laptop. The others quickly went to see what had left the pink haired girl in a state of dread.

Their reaction varying from horror to shock, but the one feeling everyone shared in that moment along with the silence was the unease to look back at Todoroki, whom seemed to realize something was terribly wrong.

"What happened?" he walked up to their spot, noticing some of his classmates didn't really wanted to answer him, more than one actually trying to take the laptop away before he could catch sight of the screen. It was Momo who started talking to him.

"Todoroki-san...you might want to sit down first" she asked before he could get closer, concern on her features as everyone looked at him worriedly. He only squinted at everyone in the room before approaching to see what had rilled everyone up.

Someone had streamed the aftermath of a fight, it was the city where you had gone for the internship. The scenario was like the apocalypse had occurred.

A building had exploded, the pros were rescuing people caught in the explosion, paramedics had been called in order to help. The sound of screaming and cries could be heard all around the footage as people were being rescued from debris, unfortunately some people didn't made it.

That's when they saw an agitated Tokage hugging herself in the background, body covered in dirt and bruises as she talked to the Pro you were working with, she was shaking as the both gazed upon something laid before their feet, something that left Shoto so distressed he unconsciously activated his flames.

Even from afar the sight of a body covered by a sheet was visible with a stain of blood nearly soaking the fabric. His legs nearly gave up on him and the voices of his friends became static.

That couldn't be (Y/N), you said you'd be careful...it couldn't be you!

All of the memories of you and him together came back to mind...The day you guys awkwardly confessed to eachother at the same time, the day you met his mother, the mess the both of you had made in the kitchen the first time you tried to make homemade soba.

"We found another one!" Someone's voice cried loudly in the video, causing him to slowly look up at the screen, and his breath got caught in his throat when he realized the person being carried in a stretcher was his (Y/N).

You were alright....You were alright!....right?

That's what he wanted to believe, but the sight of your battered body, and the wound on your abdomen that slowly soaked the front of your costume with blood made the paranoia overpower his senses as he saw the ambulance take you away as quickly as they could.

Accordingly to the time the video was recorded everything happened nearly 30 minutes ago, that meant you were already at the hospital. He wouldn't just stay there and wait, he was going to see you, no matter what.

......

"We managed to stabilize them just in time, had they arrived a minute later I don't think we could have done anything" The doctor informed your parents, Shoto had run into them when he arrived to the hospital. Your mother had been hysteric while she was comforted by your father, until Todoroki arrived and she saw him, quickly embracing the boy in a tight grip and thanking him for coming to see you. Todoroki slowly embraced the older woman back.

That's when the doctor walked out of the room and gave a final explanation. Mentioning it would take a while for you to go back to normal, Recovery girl could help speed up the healing process, but you'd still need some time to rest before doing any physical effort.

"You may go inside to see them but I would suggest only two people should at a time"

It was a relief for everyone they moment the doctor mentioned you were already out of danger, Shoto and your parents nearly fell on the floor at the reassurance that everything would be alright.

He wanted to see you, he really wanted to...but seeing the look on your parent's faces...would it be selfish if he asked to see you first? It was like they knew what he was thinking because you mother smiled sweetly at him, the fear in her eyes long forgotten.

"You should see them first Shoto, we can go in later so don't worry about us" her words left him quiet for a minute, until he finally nodded gratefully before opening the door of your room. You were laying in bed in such a relaxed manner that if it wasn't for the bandages covering the right side of your face and the ones peaking out from the top of hospital gown it would seem like you were just taking a nap.

Silence filled the room except for the soft noise of your breathing, Todoroki quietly pulled a chair to sit besides the bed, he couldn't be thankful enough as he softly grabbed one of your hands and brought it closer to lay his face on the soft skin.

"Don't ever scare me like that again (Y/N)..." He didn't notice as your eyes slowly fluttered open or the way you looked at him with a confused expression.

"...Shoto...?"

It wasn't his imagination, was it? did he just hear you talk?

His face quickly turning up made him realize it was not a dream, there you were looking at him with a tired smile on your features, the hand he had been holding slowly caressed his cheek with a warm touch he just couldn't help but get addicted to.

"Hey...sorry I couldn't call you right away"

Todoroki couldn't help himself from leaning towards your touch with a broken laugh, even near the brink of death you still kept thinking about your promise.

"It's alright" He gripped the hand still caressing his cheek "All that matters is that you're safe"

That day he made a promise. He'd become a hero that would always be there to protect you. A hero that would keep everybody safe.

I hope you guys enjoy my first attempt on angst!

MASTERLIST

@t-amajiki @undead0relived @shoobirino @godtieruwu @bnha-ra @mysticalite

[agrinsosardonic]

Unused CSB Chapter

Our third year attending Camp White Wolf in the Catskills. I was a shrimp approaching thirteen and my bones always hurt from growing. Sephiroth hit his first growth spurt and towered over me like one of the mountains that surround that camp. And no sooner did my parents pull away from us- not to be seen for six weeks- Sephiroth abandoned me for the older boys he made friends with last year. Leaving me alone. I expected it. I knew he would do this. A common thread, but it didn’t change the crushing rejection that I felt. That I carried on my shoulders as I grabbed my bag and found my cabin. 

My time there remains a blur. I remember the smell of the still lake later and wood wet with Summer. Bugs sang songs in whispering trees in between attacking my skin. The hot sun, humidity, that muffles the sounds of camp. The disturbed water from rowing. The shouts of competition. The mess hall and the static of conversations I could never find myself to become a part of. I sat alone. Strangled by my thoughts. My lack of self-esteem even though my braces had just come off. 

Your teeth look big now. 

Sephiroth had said. I ran my tongue over them instinctively every-time I remembered that comment. 

I never attempted to make friends in that place. All the boys just seemed so much more put together. And handsome. And I cringed every time that thought floated into my head. I wasn’t supposed to think that like; pinched my eyes shut and tried to think about anything else. Video games, or comic books. Horror movies were a great relief, because it’s fucking real hard to get a boner thinking about a girl getting sawed in half. Everything is ten times more difficult at thirteen. Body always tense with pain. My dick constantly tried to give me away. My brain just then started hearing that voice that whispers in the shadows- all the solutions to my problems. 

By the third day, I wanted to call my mom and beg her to pick me up. The boys in my cabin, often secretly led by Seph, decided I was an easy target and tortured me every morning. Traps I would step into like a fly to a web. And my best friend, the one my parents asked to watch me, nowhere to be found. Alone. The kind of alone that I can actually feel. Like I’m being crushed between two walls closing in- suffocating. No way out. 

Sat by the lake and thought about hurting myself for the first time. At the time, the thought seemed logical. Injure myself in a way that would get me sent home. Burn myself on a fire, or cut myself with a blade. In reflection, this was the first time I considered self-harm as an outlet. One I would end up returning to time and time again. But, then, twelve years and eleven months, pissed look etched upon my face while I thought about all the ways I could destroy myself, someone sat next to me with a loud hmph announcing his presence. 

Did the lake do something to piss you off?

I no longer can remember the sound of his voice.

But I had turned my head and saw him sitting next to me, knees up to his chest and arms listlessly draped over them. I recognized him from the previous years. His deep black hair wild like the forest at midnight. Blue eyes that glimmered like the moon. He wore the white camp shirt they gave us and black swim trunks. I knew his name. Zack Fair. But I had no idea why he decided to sit next to me.

Well?

I stuttered through my words, still not used to the absence of metal in my mouth. Uh, w-what?

You look like you’re about to fight the lake.

I brought my eyes back to the green and blue rocky body of water. Zack was two years older, just shy of his fifteenth birthday which would have him working at the camp as a Junior counselor, instead of a participant. We didn’t hang with the same group- well. I didn’t have a group. He did. And all I could think about was those friends lurking in the shadows waiting for my guard to drop so they could play a cruel prank on me.

You know, this lake sucks. He continued, it attacked me my first year here and I’m not over it!

He showed me his foot, by practically shoving it in my face so I could see the faded pink scar on the sole. Attacked by a rock! First week too. Never forgave it. So, if you’re trying to fight the lake, I got your back.

I cracked a smile. A small one but showed my teeth. And I remember the way he tilted his head. Like a puppy. You’re kinda cute when you smile. You should more often. You’ll have all the ladies chasing after you!

My stomach flipped.

Actually, that never happened before and I thought I was going to throw up and started getting nervous. But his smile, bright and comforting, kept me from fleeing to the coldness of my cabin. 

You’re Cloud, right? And I remember being shocked he knew my name. He revealed he was captain of the opposing Volleyball team in that afternoon’s game. Which saw my pathetic attempts at being useful in a sport rewarded with a ball to the face, the stomach, and somehow my legs much to the resentment of my teammates; who slung every vile slur they had learned in their young lives. 

I felt a wave of hot embarrassment. Tried to bury my face in my knees but he pressed on. Complimenting my attitude despite the failure. I shot pointed glares at my teammates and continued to play despite their displeasure with me. That takes balls, man he smiled. 

We sat together at the lake while the sun descended over the water casting a fiery glow against the water. He informed me he came from New Jersey, mocked me gently when I revealed I’m from Staten Island. We argued over which state has the better pizza. What life was like back home. He was entering Sophomore year of high school-and I always forget that fact when I reflect on our relationship...if I could even call it that. 

Zack became my friend first; guiding me during those dark weeks of camp. He invited me to sit at his table in the mess hall with his two other buddies. He taught me how to throw a football in a perfect spiral. Took me rowing on the lake during free time. Picked me first in every team sport, including capture the flag which saw Sephiroth on the opposing team. 

And we won. 

And I do sometimes remember the sensation when Zack threw his strong arms around me, cheering my success. How it felt like a million needles pricking my skin and my heart thundered to a halt. And I was so caught up in the fleeting moment of pure euphoria, I barely acknowledged the strange look Sephiroth shot threw his silver bangs as he cocked his head to the side and watched Zack and I be ushered off to revel in our victory. I recall it at times when he gives me that same look. The same look he gave when he asked about Reno the first time. And I get sick just thinking about how far back he planned everything. 

The night of the victory, after dinner with our team and sharing scary stories over the campfire, Zack walked me back to my cabin late. And pulled me into a hug I didn’t understand at the time. And another feeling pooled in the pit of my stomach when he ran his big hands down my back, stopping short of my buttocks before bringing them back up. Nerves. He felt so much bigger than me. Maybe at the time I felt safe in that embrace. But it’s tainted now but what happened after. And while he whispered Good Job, shorty in my ear like a supportive friend, I think I knew there was something else he wanted to say. Something he communicated with an extra squeeze before he released me into the damp darkness of my cabin. 

I laid in bed that night thinking only of Zack. 

Recalling the last few weeks of our budding friendship. Calculated every time he found an excuse to touch me, whether it be a playful push or messing up my hair or kicking me underneath the table. His defense of me to the few friends he had, who hated a tiny kid running around behind them like Peter Pan’s unwanted shadow. Counted on my fingers how many times he gave me this look, the same look Tifa would give me under the covers. 

And I realized between the obvious fucking tent in my pants and the rush of butterflies in my stomach- I was in pre-pubscent love with Zack. 

My friend. 

The older boy who took pity on me. 

And maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. 

I laugh about it now, when I’m throwing back shots of vodka to numb myself from the trauma of it all. But then, I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my face that remained there until one of my cabin mates discovered my issue and called me out in front of everyone. 

I forgot how easy rumors start. 

But I hadn’t considered that fact

And maybe history just repeats itself.

Zack became my first in almost everything..

My first real kiss under the moonlight after we snuck into the lake after hours. Jumped in with our clothes on- and despite the heat that hung in the air, the water felt like frost. But he was warm. When he ran his hands against my cheek. When our lips met. And I thought this was the most beautiful feeling I could ever experience. The height of human emotion.

And one night, after sneaking out successfully for almost a week, we went to where they stored the canoes- and I never found out how he accessed the shed. He whispered promises in my ear. Told me I was beautiful. 

I played a dangerous game; followed his lead. Accepted acts I offered in return without understanding the consequences. Curse of childhood is short sightedness. And I mistook his acceptance of me as loyalty. And I got myself wrapped up in him that I forgot the person I was before he engulfed me in his gaze. I wanted to be Zack as much as I wanted Zack to love me; like the love they show in movies. Artificial passion. 

Playing these memories back, only three and a half years later, it feels like a different life. And as soon as I feel those rough reminders, my brain shuts down. I’ve drank him away so many times, I find him to be more of a phantom than a tangible being of meat and bones. Who took my innocence away.

And then like a switch flipped-

I approached him at our usual spot in the mess hall. He ignored me. 

When I tried making strain conversation, he offered one word answers. 

The judgmental eyes of his friends drilled into me. And I left with my head low; wondering what I did wrong. Thinking he got tired of me just like Sephiroth did. 

Sephiroth, I found him in the cabin reading one of the comics I brought with me. Lounging in his bunk. Eyes darted to me. And all he said I heard a rumor. 

Apparently someone discovered our actions in the canoe. And that someone threatened Zack he would tell the whole camp. But that someone felt so inclined to tell Sephiroth what he saw. My stomach dropped out of my body. The hazel-eyed boy just stared at me as he vacantly recalled the information he received from his source. And followed with how disgusted he was to be associated with me. 

And I denied.

Denied

Denied. With increasing alarm. And with every crack of my voice, his lips curled. Twitched into a smile. 

And I denied until I started believing in my own words. 

And I blamed Zack-

But I don’t think I’m entirely wrong in that. Which adds another stone to my back that crushes me. One I should have started cracking when I went to therapy and maybe I wouldn’t be such a confused, chaotic, disaster of a person. Any self-confidence I had captured crumbled and turned to dust that year.

I tried to bury all those memories instead of actually addressing them- and now here I am. Presented with a similar situation. An enemy, under the guise of a friend, had weaponized a personal part of myself for his own selfish pleasure. And I stand alone. Bailed on by a person who claimed to care-

And maybe it’s time to change the narrative. 

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 61

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  SECOND LAST CHAPTER! EEEEEK! I’VE ALREADY BEGUN THE THIRD AND FINAL INSTALMENT OF TYLER/ESME SO LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED ;)

WARNINGS: none

TAGGING: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

He can’t remember the last time he woke up like this; gradually, instead of bolting awake because of a nightmare or even the smallest of noises and the slightest of movements.  Eyes slowly flickering open, taking in the brilliant sunshine that streams through the curtains; a slight breeze tumbling through the window and fluttering the thin fabric. He’d managed an entire night’s sleep. Worn out by jet lag and the multiple emotional meltdowns and their love making; once in the kitchen, again in the living room, and then their final session in the bedroom.  The pain is there.  It’s always there. And he suspects it will be for the rest of his life. It, along with the various scars that mar his body, the memories of his previous life that he’s burdened to carry forever.  

Still on his stomach, Tyler reaches blindly for his cellphone that rests on the table next to his side of the bed, using the heel of his other palm to clear sleep from his eyes as he checks the time.  

6:28.

It’s actually late for him. For five and a half years he’s been getting up at the crack of dawn; accepting his role as the one that wakes with whatever baby when they decided it was time for a change and a bottle. It made him feel useful; that he wasn’t just the one responsible for putting in half of the DNA needed to create a life in the first place. So he’d happily and willing taken that on. Enjoying those quiet moments that he shared just between him and his child. Children, in the twins’ case. Often sitting out on the front porch or on the back deck with them cradled against him; enjoying the way those tiny bodies snuggled into him, how all of their fingers would curl around one of his as he fed them their bottle, those bright blue eyes never leaving his the entire time.  Pure, beautiful moments that he’d never felt as if he’d deserved. Especially after the horrible decision he’d made when Austin was so sick. It was something he’d thought he’d pay for for the rest of his life; karma either sending him to an early grave or allowing him to escape death time and time again in favour or living with profound guilt and self hate.  But then he’d met Esme, and everything changed. He changed. Starting with those five days in a dirty hotel room in Dhaka.

He quickly checks for texts. It’s an old habit; used to either being woken up in the middle of the night or being finding missed messages.   Something was always happening; problems with other missions that Nik wanted his input on, a job that she needed him to do, or when she’d been into the wine and she’d send him her many propositions, filthy suggestions, and…once or twice…half naked photos of herself.  Constantly flooding his inbox with her bullshit; despite the four kids and the wedding band on his finger and telling her time and time again that he’d never…in a million years…cheat on his wife. The one person that loved him unconditionally, despite all of his bullshit. Who he loved in the exact same fashion.  A woman that had come into his life when he least expected and altered everything. That stuck by him during even the most difficult and trying of times, and who not only had given him everything of herself that she possibly had, but a chance at a normal life.  

Nothing from Nik. Or Yaz. They’ve gone silent and he’s grateful for that.  He needs time; time to deal with all of the bullshit going on in his head, time to let go of everything in the past that’s been weighing him down and threatening to destroy not only him, but his marriage. His body and mind need rest, and he was certain that neither of them…especially Nik…would be willing to let that happen.  They felt he owed them answers; an explanation as to why he just gave up and walked away. He felt he owed them shit. Weren’t years of blood, sweat, and tears enough? Hadn’t he already paid his debts? Wasn’t nearly dying in Dhaka a big enough price to pay?

There’s two messages. Both from Ovi. The first is a picture of the kids gathered around…and on top of…their uncle Kyle in the middle of his brother in law’s living room floor. He’d created a makeshift sleeping area with a blow-up mattress and all of the cushions from the couch, and all of them -including Kyle himself- were fast asleep.   The second is a text itself; one that brings tears to Tyler’s eyes. Heartfelt and poignant.  That once teen now a man just putting his heart out there.  Telling him how grateful he was that fate had brought them together. That they’d been strangers but now they were family. A family that he loves and is proud of and never wants to let go.  How Tyler doesn’t think he’s brave, but he’s the bravest person Ovi has ever known.

You have to do battle with your own head every day. And you always beat it. That’s courage. That’s brave.

It takes him several minutes to compose himself; to be able to see the screen in order to compose a message in response. Just a simple thank you. And a ‘I’ll see you soon, mate’.  Ovi won’t expect anything else; he knows Tyler is a man of few words. Especially in emotional situations.  

Putting the cell phone back on the table, he rolls over onto his back; grimacing at the tightness in the middle of his spine and at the pain that take erupts in his shoulder and travels down all the way to his fingers. And he closes his eyes, a forearm across his brow, attempting to will the pain away instead of having to actually get up and get some meds; content in the warm confines of his bed…their bed. With that warm, soft body sleeping next him.  

She stirs, rolling over onto her side, sliding closer to him and laying a hand on his stomach.  “What’s wrong?” she mumbles, eyes never opening

“Nothing’s wrong.  Ovi just sent me a couple text messages that I didn’t get until this morning.”

“That’s because I kept you too busy to look at you phone,” she says, and then gives a sleepy giggle.  “I told you I was crazy hormonal.”

“I am not complaining,” he grins, and remove his forearm from his eyes and lays his hand on the top of her head; slowly running his palm over her hair, down onto the nape of her neck and to the spot between her shoulders. “Think we can keep things crazy hormonal in a good way? Because sometimes…”

“I go batshit insane?”

“Well, I was going to say sometimes you’re a little off the rails. But if you prefer batshit insane…”

“Do ever wonder who came up with that saying? Who decided that batshit was the insane? How does someone go about discovering something like that?”

“Babe, our brains do not work in the same way. Because no. I’ve never once wondered that.  Do you just have all these wild, weird things running free in that pretty little head of yours? Because I’d love to be able to get in there for just one day and see what’s going on in that mind.”

“Trust me, you do not want to know,” she laughs, and moves even closer to her. Tucking herself under his arm, presses tightly against his side. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven.”

She groans. “What is wrong with you? Why are you up so early? You’re retired now. You can sleep all damn day if you want. There’s no kids here, no dog, it’s quiet, it’s relaxing. There’s no need to be up this early.”

“Force of habit,” he reasons, and drops a kiss on the top of her head.  

“A lot of habits are going to change,” she says, eyes closed as her fingers trace the tattoos and scars that decorate his body. She doesn’t have to look, every location and every inch of each long ago memorized.  “Maybe you will get fat and lazy.”

He grins. “You still gonna stick around if that happens?”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily and you know it. It would take a lot more than you getting fat and lazy.  But we both know that’s likely not going to happen because you…” her fingers move along his throat; over his Adam’s apple and up onto the underside of his chin, tugging lightly at his beard. “… can’t sit still for more than five minutes. We’re going to have to find lots of things for you to do. So you don’t start getting that itch and wind up back doing what you did before.”

Tyler knows she’s worried about it; that he’ll get bored with a ‘normal’ life.  That domesticity and the routines it comes with won’t be enough to keep his hands and his mind busy.  And maybe it will. Maybe one day he’ll wake up and miss what he used to do.  Maybe he will feel that itch to get back into something more exciting and dangerous. But he won’t let himself wander back down that path. There’s just way too much to lose.

“Not going to happen,” he assures her. “I’ll find something. There’s got to be lots to do with fifteen acres. The house doesn’t need work but there’s other things I can find I’m sure.   Something I can get the kid into. It’s going to be hard on him. Twice we’ve uprooted him.”

“First of all, you have to remember that Ovi is not a kid anymore. He’s a man, Tyler. With a girlfriend that is moving in with him. And I know it’s hard to believe and it’s even harder to accept. I have a hard time with it. That he’s not the same Ovi that we brought back here with us. Second, he’s tough. Tougher than anyone gives him credit for. Look at what he went through in Dhaka. He was only fourteen then and that could have easily destroyed him. He stepped up. When you asked him to take the kids and take off. And he managed to keep them and Chloe safe. That is huge. That is a massive step for him, and I don’t know about you, but I’m crazy proud of him and I can’t wait to tell him that.”

“I’m proud of him too.  He’s a good kid. A good man,” he corrects when she looks at him.  “But he’s still Ovi. In my eyes.”

“Well one day Ovi is going to get married and have kids of his own and then what? He’s going to make us grandparents.”

Tyler frowns.

“Sobering thought isn’t it?” she laughs, her hands in his hair -or what’s left of it now-, palms rubbing against it.  “It could happen nine months from now, for all we know.”

“It fucking better not. I don’t want to be a new father and a grandfather at the same time.”

“Especially when you’re going to have so many diapers to change.”

“You mean you’re going to have to grin and bear it when I decorate the nursery. Because it’s a girl.”

“It’s diaper duty for you. It’s a boy. Your track record speaks for itself.  You’ve made three boys since making one girl. Think about it.”

“I have,” he curls an arm around her waist, effortlessly hoisting her on top of him, those soft breasts and those silky curves pressed against him. And he combs his fingers through her hair and kisses her forehead. “It’s a girl.”

“You’re going to be eating some humble pie when we found out otherwise.”

“I’d rather eat something else.”

“I could make us breakfast. Or you could take me out for something.”

He scowls. “I wasn’t talking about actual food.”

“Oh…” she pouts dramatically, eyes widening when she finally comprehends what he really means. “…oh…you mean that.”

“Yeah…” he grabs her by her hips and unceremoniously dumps her onto her back, a grin on his face as his hands rest on her thighs, gently pushing them open.  “…I mean that.”

*****

It’s day three when the kids and Ovi return.  

The afternoon and the evening before had been rough; a lot of anxiety, and near crippling depression accompanied by the guilt he was feeling over leaving the McMann kids’ lives in the hands of rookies. Triggered by a call from Nik that he’d let go to voicemail, followed by a simple text of: WE NEED TO TALK.  And it had come out in the worst possible way: a lot of yelling and aggression and horrible, harsh words directed at the one person who didn’t deserve it.  

Afterwards he’d felt even worse; disgusted with himself for the things he’d said to her. Yet she’d never retaliated; barely raising her voice, never responding with the thousand and one harsh things she could have thrown back at him, the expression on her face remaining stoic and solid.  Yet he’d seen it in her eyes; the hurt he’d caused.  That same look she’d had when he had sent her away with Saju and Ovi.  

He’d apologized profusely, and she’d never pushed him away when he’d reached out to hold her and kiss her and stumble over his words as he tried to take back everything he’d said.  

“This is going to happen,” she’d reasoned; so calm and strong and so willing to help him. “It’s all going to come out. It has to come out.  This is just one of the ways it will.”

It had passed as quickly as it had come on. That calm and gentle way of hers soothing all the guilt and helping chase away the anxiety and take away the edge of the depression. But they’re always there; lingering just under the surface, eating away at him little by little, always threatening to explode and turn him into a monster. It’s his number one fear; that he’d become just like his old man. The job had given him an outlet for all of the hurt and anger that had taken root in him at a young age; constantly being reminded that he was a disappointment and that he’d never amount to anything or every be ‘good enough’, seeing his mother abused in every way possible.  Now that outlet is gone. And while it needed to go, he fears that without it, he’ll turn into the one person he’d vowed he’d never be like.

Nik’s in the passenger seat of Kyle’s truck and Tyler sees the way she watches him; eyes narrowed, creases across her brow, lips set in a firm line. He knows she expects some kind of explanation from him; a reason why he’d just so abruptly walked away.  And maybe he does owe her one. After all, they’ve been friends for a long time, and she’d always trusted him with even the most complex and dangerous of jobs. But he feels nothing when he sees her. No remorse that he’d cut those strings without warning her first, no connection to their friendship or anything sexual that had happened between them years ago.  

“Daddy!” Millie is the first one out of the truck, not even taking her uncle’s offer of a helping hand as she leaps from the back seat and hits the ground running, tears already spilling down her cheeks. And he effortlessly scoops her up onto his arms before she can collide with his legs, a forearm under her bum and a hand on the back of her head; tiny arms curling around his neck. “Daddy…” she sobs, and he can feel those tears through his shirt. “…I knew you’d come home…I knew it…”

“I told you I would,” he presses a kiss to the side of her head, closing his eyes against the threat of his own tears. “I told you I’d come home.”

“I missed you, daddy.  I missed you so bad it made my tummy hurt. And my heart. My heart lots and lots.”

“I missed you, Amelia,” It’s the first time he’s called her that in two years; since she decided she didn’t like her full name and wanted something more ‘fun’ and ‘kid like’.  And he lets the tears come now; not caring who is there to see them. Kyle, Nik. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is the little girl clinging to him with all the strength and power she can muster up. “I missed you so much.”

“I don’t want you to go away ever again.  It’s too scary when you go away. I don’t like when you leave. It makes me  sad and I worry that I’ll never see you again.”

“I’m not going away ever again. There’s no more going away. I’m home now. For good. You don’t have to worry about me going away ever again.”

“Promise?” she sniffles and pulls back to look at him.  “Promise you’ll never…ever…ever…go away again.”

“I promise.”

She holds his face in her hands. “You have ouchies again.”

“Nothing serious. And they’re going away. There’ll be no more ouchies again either. Ever.”

“Ever?”

He nods.

“I like your hair,” she says as an afterthought, giggling as she rubs her palms against it.  “It feels funny. Why are you crying?”

“Happy crying,” he assures her, as little fingers work at clearing the droplets away. “Happy tears.”

“Daddy!” the twins cry in unison, and he moves Millie over onto his hip and crouches down as the boys come flying towards him; one arm reaching out to gather both of them into his embrace, pulling them tight against him. Once more letting those tears flow. It’s the longest he’s ever been away; two weeks was the record before.  But it’s been nearly four. An entire month away from his kids.  Nearly thirty days of not seeing them face to face. Of not reading bedtime stories and tucking them in. Of not being able to even hug them.  

“Your hair is so cool!” TJ exclaims, as rubs his hands along his father’s head. He’s a tough kid; hiding a big, sensitive heart underneath a hard exterior.  Tanner is the sensitive one; an old soul stuck in a little boy. And he holds onto his dad with all the strength inside of him; his face buried in the side of Tyler’s neck as he sobs, that small body shaking with the force it.

“It’s alright, mate,” Tyler kisses the side of his son’s head, rubs his back soothingly. “It’s alright now.”

“I was so scared,” Tanner’s voice is muffled against his father’s neck. “That I’d never see you again.”

“I told you I’d be home. That nothing could stop me from getting back to you guys. That there was no one out there that could keep me from you.”

“I missed you so much, daddy. I’m glad you’re home. Don’t go away again, okay? I don’t want you to away again.”

“I won’t,” he promises, and runs a hand over Tanner’s hair. “I won’t go away ever again. Why don’t you guys go and see mommy? I’ll be inside in a little bit, okay?”

He gets more hugs and kisses, and then all three run off; their footsteps loud on the wooden porch stairs as they make a made a dash for the front door.

“Look at this guy,” Kyle says, a broad grin on his face as he holds onto one of Declan’s hand, the baby strong on his legs, gait slightly wobbly. Eleven months old and already meeting such a huge milestone; a proud smile on his little face, blue eyes sparkling. “Just happened over night Esme said.”

It takes Tyler by surprise. And makes that month seem like it had lasted even longer. When he’d left that night, Declan was just learning how to pull himself up to a stand using the railing on his crib or the edge of the couch or someone’s legs. Now here he was, so close to walking on his own.  And that emotion chokes at him once more as he gives a “look at you, mate, look at you” and then holds his hand out for his son to grab onto.  Little fingers tightly grabbing onto one of his; confident that his dad won’t let him fall.

“She wanted it to be surprise,” Kyle says, as Tyler scoops Declan into his arms and stands up, running his fingers through that thick strawberry blond hair and peppering tiny cheeks with kisses. “She told me not to say anything.”

“Feels like I’ve been gone forever. I had a baby when I left and now, I have a toddler. It’s…surreal.”

Kyle nods in agreement.  

“Thank you. For taking them. For giving Esme and I some time alone. We needed it. There were things we needed to talk about it. Without little ears around.”

“Nothing I wouldn’t do for my kid sister.  Or you. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, and I said some things I shouldn’t have the other day. About what you do and how you handled things.  But I know you love my sister. I can see that. In the same way I know you love your kids. I was just worried about her. That’s all. I know you can understand that.”

Tyler nods.  

“But it wasn’t personal. Against you. It was just the situation. I just wanted you to know that. I was important to me that you know that.”

“I’d never do anything to hurt your sister. Ever. And it’s important to me that you know that. So…” he switches Declan from one hip to the other. “…you and Nik, huh?”

Kyle nods.

“You guys can come in if you want. Stay for dinner. We have tons of food and I know how much you like to get on the grill.”

Kyle rubs at the back of his head. “You think that’s a good idea? I mean, Esme and Nik don’t actually get along and my sister did say you wanted to put everything behind you. I just assumed that means everyone, too.”

“It does.  Which is why I think you guys need to come in. Might be the last time we ever all get a chance to be together. We’ll be leaving soon, so…”

“I just don’t want it to be awkward.”

“I promise I won’t let Esme throw down with Nik. I can’t let my pregnant wife beat the hell out of someone. Even though she’s probably fully capable of doing it. Besides, I think there’s some things that need to be said. Before I can actually move on. So humour me, yeah?”

“And you promise no cat fights? As entertaining as it might be?

“I promise,” Tyler grins and then turns to towards the house. “Just a heads up though, if you want beer, better go and get your own. We don’t do that here anymore.”

****

“There’s some things I need to say,” Tyler begins, as he and Nik sit on the top step of the back deck; watching as Kyle and Ovi entertains the oldest kids in the pool, Esme in the house putting the baby down for a nap. “And I need you to just keep quiet and let me say them.”

She blinks at the tone of his voice; quiet, all business. Then nods for him to continue.

“I don’t owe you anything, Nik. I’ve given you enough over the years, especially over the past five and a half. I let you come between me and my family.  I let you get into my head and convince me that I couldn’t properly take care of them and provide for them without doing the job.  That it somehow made me a lesser man because I wasn’t out there killing people. And if I’d been even half the man I was before Dhaka, I never would have let any of that happen. I would have told you to go fuck yourself and you know that.”

She nods.

“But I realize that I can’t move on if I don’t give you an explanation.  Because I need to let go of the past and if I don’t saythe things I need to, it’ll bug me for the rest of my life. I’ll never be able to rest…truly rest…if I don’t let it all go.  I’m done, Nik. With everything.  I’m done with that life. With the job. With everything and everyone that comes with it. I realized I wasn’t the guy who could get those kids out. Not with where my brain is. I was more of a danger to them than anything else. Because I wouldn’t have been able to focus or get my head on straight and that would have been a total disaster and you know it.”

“I do,” she agrees.

“I’m not in a good place. Mentally. I haven’t been in a good place in a long time. And I should have walked away when Esme had the twins and Tanner was in the hospital and we didn’t know if he was going to make it or not. That should have been the end. I should have told you to fuck off as soon as you called me.  He was a week old and we didn’t even know if he was going make it to two weeks and I let you suck me right back in. I abandoned my wife when she needed me the most.  I abandoned my son. Who could have died. And you know what’s worse? You knew how bad things were and you knew they needed me, and you still didn’t leave me alone.”

“Tyler, I…”

“You never could leave me alone. You just kept coming back and calling me and text me and emailing me. You didn’t give a shit that my baby was in the hospital and might not even make it. You didn’t give a shit that Esme needed me. You knew I wouldn’t say no. As soon as you pulled that ‘you need the money to take care of them properly’ bullshit. You knew that that’s what would get me back out there. Whether it would kill me or not. How fucking dare you? How fucking dare you disrespect my wife and my kids like that. Put that shit in my head and take me away from them.”

“I never meant to…”

“I’m done.  For good. I can’t do that life anymore. I don’t want to be that person any longer. I want to be a husband. I want to be a father. Those are the only two things that matter now. And I want you to accept that. After tonight, I want you to walk away and forget you ever knew me. Lose my phone number. Lose my email. Pretend I never existed. He’s gone, Nik. That Tyler’s gone and he’s never coming back. No matter how hard you try.”

“And you’ll be happy? Not being that Tyler anymore?”

“I just want to be normal. I want to wake up every morning beside the love of my life.  I want to make my kids breakfast and take them to school.  I want to watch them grow up. See them get married and have babies of their own. I want to grow old alongside of my wife. That’s the life I want. That’s the Tyler I want to be. And you need to accept that.  I’m done, Nik. We’re done.”

“And when you get bored…?” she presses.

“I’m done,” he forcibly stresses. “This is it. When you walk out of here tonight, I don’t want you contacting me ever again. And I don’t just mean for the job, either. Don’t sit there and pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about. That you haven’t spent the last five and a half years trying to get me to cheat on my wife.”

She shifts uncomfortably beside him.

“I don’t care what happened between us in the past. It was never going to be what you wanted it to be. I told you that right from the beginning. What I have with Esme? We were never going to have that, Nik. I never wanted that with you. I never wanted it at all. Until I met Esme. And I’m sorry if you can’t handle hearing that. But it’s the truth. And I’m sorry if you feel that I used you or lead you on, because that was not my intention. We were in agreement; it was just sex.”

“It was,” she says. “Until it wasn’t.”

“Until it wasn’t for you, you mean. Because that’s all it was for me. And I know what you think; you think I only asked Esme to marry me because she found out she was pregnant with Millie. But that’s not what happened. I was in love with her.  I wanted to be with her. And our kid.  I didn’t marry her because I felt obligated to do it. I married her because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. And if you can’t get that through your head…” he shrugs. “…I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Tyler…” she reaches for her, attempting to lay a hand on his thigh.

“Don’t,” he warns, and moves away. “Just don’t. My kids are here. My wife is right inside. Just don’t.”

She holds her hands up in surrender.

“You need to leave me alone.  You need to stop trying to come between Esme and me. I’m never going to cheat on her. Ever. She’s the only woman I want to be with. And you’ve got a good guy there,” he nods in Kyle’s direction. “He’s a really good guy and you need to give him a chance. Let yourself be happy for once, Nik”

“It’s hard,” she sighs. “Letting go. I get the feeling this will be the last time we ever see each other. The last time I ever talk to you.”

He gives a small smile. “That’s the plan.”

******

“You know what the first thing is we need to buy when we get to Australia?” Esme asks hours, her voice barely above a whisper.  

Tyler looks over at her; loving the way the moonlight bathes her smooth skin in almost silvery glow. “What’s that?”

“A bigger bed.”

He chuckles and looks down at the tiny bodies curled up contently beside him. And on top of him.  Tanner fast asleep on his stomach; stretched out along his father’s torso with his head tucked under his chin.  Millie tucked under one arm and TJ under the other, his hands on their backs and their faces pressed into his ribs.  Declan still awake; sitting between his parents, gently grabbing and yanking at a complacent Mac’s fur as the dog rests in front of him.  The kids had insisted on sleeping in the ‘big bed’; not wanting to be away from their dad for a single moment. Scared that they’d open their eyes and he’d be gone again.

“One of those double king-sized ones,” she muses. “Or maybe one that takes up half the room. That can be your first project. You can build it.”

He nods. “I could do that. Where do we find a mattress to fit it?”

“I’m sure there’s a place in Australia we could find them at. Or we can just look on the internet. You can buy everything on the internet. And you know what the best thing about having a bed that big would be?”

“I do not want the kids sleeping with us for the next eighteen years, so if that’s what you’re going to say…”

“Actually…” she reaches out to rub the top of his head. “…I was going to say that I love having a large playground.”

He grins and gives her a wink.

“Nik seemed to be in a mood when her and Kyle left,” she says, as she attempts to wrangle Declan onto his back. “What did you do? Turn down a blow job?”

“Why do I need any from her when I get enough from you?”

“Maybe you like variety, I don’t know.”

“The only one I want to be getting blow jobs from is you, so…” he lays a hand on the small of her back. “…stop.”

“You must have done something. Or said something. She looked like she was ready to throat punch you. Ughhh, child…” she groans, as Declan gets up into a sit once more.  “….do you have to be so stubborn? Do you have to be so much like your father?”

“You say it like it’s bad thing,”

“Sometimes it is. Sometimes he does things that make me want to drink. Like right now,” she sits up and scoops the baby up into her arms, settling him against her chest; one arm under his head, the other supporting his legs. “And he’s so long and he’s so solid, oh my god.”

“He’s going to be a tank. Probably taller than me. And heavier. You never told me. That he was walking. I mean, not on his own, but with help.”

“I wanted it to be a surprised. There’s been so much bad things happened that I wanted there to be something good for you when you got home.”

He smiles and runs his hand up her back, gently squeezing her shoulder.  “Thank you.”

She merely winks at him in response.

“You’re a pretty good wife, you know that?  I could spend the next forty years with you. Easily.”

“Yeah?” she grins. “Well I think I can handle a life sentence with the likes of you.”

He smiles, then trails his fingertips down her arm and over her wrist, taking her hand in his hand. “You won’t have to worry about Nik anymore,” he says. “I handled it.”

“You mean just about the job or….”

“About the job. And us. I told her she’s been trying to screw things up for five and a half years and I was tired of it. That whatever she wants from me is never going to happen. That I just want to be a husband and a father. That’s what I want to do with my life. Be with you and the kids. And if that’s all I do for the next forty or fifty years, then so be it. I’ll die a happy man.”

She raises their join hands to her lips and presses a kiss to the top of his life. “You’re a good man, Tyler Rake.”

“Yeah?” he tightens his hold on her hand. “Only because you make me want to be.”

[fairyscribbles]

Where Wind Soothes - Crypt (Sehun, pt. 9) [Chronicles of the Wolf series]

I love you guys. Sorry for being gone for so long.

I hope this will help <3. I’ll start replying to all of your answers tomorrow <3

If you need to refresh your memory, and I know you do, read this! 

Enjoy!

-

The mountains seemed even more ominous as you neared them, and you knew why it seemed that way to you. It was most probably a combination of all things- the sky was overcast, sun only slightly visible through the thick layer of grey; an omnipresent and yet still powerless deity, whose power would not reach where you were about to wander. The area surrounding the crypts of the ancient seemed match the atmosphere of a final resting place of dozens of warriors. The ground was hard and cold, and only the harshest and sturdiest of flora survived here, a clear sign for anyone and everyone, that this was not a place for the living.

All these thoughts came racing through your veins and down your legs, making it seem like iron settled around your ankles, and you huddled into yourself for security and the slightest, maddest of thoughts, that maybe if you cowered into yourself far enough, you would magically slip away from the situation that you found yourself in, and would be able to reappear back in your cozy and most importantly, safe house, far away from any wolves or deathbells or walking dead.

Bora didn't seem to be as affected by your adventure, and in the back of your mind, you knew you couldn't compare yourself to a person whose calling was killing of supernatural beasts. And yet you couldn't help yourself but be jealous of the easy stride she kept up, even though you saw the numerous daggers strapped to both of her thighs and the small bow flung across her back. In this moment, you didn't want to be a healer anymore. You wanted to become Bora, tall and strong and fearless, and selfless, so, so selfless, as she was putting herself in imminent danger to provide materials for a medicine that is so ancient, there is no knowing if it going to help or not.

Sehun kept silent on the road. You didn't know if it was purely the jealousy seeping through him that prevented him from having a civil conversation with you, or it was the stress. Maybe it was a bit of both, and it made you uneasy as well. Even if he didn't talk to you, he made it his point to stay near you, just an arm's reach away in case you tripped over a stray root while you were busy mapping your surroundings (however, you did think that there were some moments when the guiding hand on the small of your back was absolutely unnecessary, and the younger wolf was just yearning for touch. You let it slide, because the warmth of his hand made your fried nerves cool down as well).

You bypassed the main entrance to the crypt, a tall door with multiple locks strewn over the majestic wood as a clear sign that it was unwise to even attempt to disturb the dead. Many have tried, evident by the numerous slashes not only against the door but on the cobbled stones leading up to the entrances as well- swords, axes and arrows of thieves or just adventurers bored by the dangerous woods and abandoned villages, looking for treasure. Looking for fame. And after the fourth time the capital had sent the battle monks to contain hordes of decaying flesh wielding their old weapons as if they were part of their limb, the crypts were sealed off, guarded by protective wards which would make the intruders forget what they were attempting to do and send them off wandering into the wilderness, regaining their senses once they were far away.

Bora's sure steps leading all of you up the side of the mountain had you chuckling under your breath. "How often have you gone here, Bora?" you couldn't keep in the question, and the former captain turned to look at you over her shoulder, a slight smirk playing along her features. "I have a friend or two who recommended some weak spots in the chambers further in the crypts."

"I hope these friends aren't waiting somewhere in the shrubbery for you and little medic over here to slide away into a crypt to ambush us," Baekhyun hissed, making sure his suspicious voice was accompanied by a fake-enough swipe of the perimeter that it couldn't have been interpreted in a different way than a joke. "I'm sure that if Bora wanted us to be decorations of Wolfsguard barracks' walls, she would've lured us somewhere closer to the headquarters." Sehun piped in, offering you a hand once you were climbing higher on the rocks.

"Maybe it's something they like to do in their free time. Find out who makes a more fun hunger games for the guards."

"It's here." the playful speculations (only for the two participating wolves, Tao's shoulders tensed since the first mention of his mate betraying their pack) died down immediately when Bora knelt over a pile of seemingly inconspicuous rubble. Stone after stone disappeared, and an ominous wind moaned from the newly discovered crypt entrance, heavy with the stench of stale moss and rot. You came to appreciate your medical background, as the smell was something horrible to the untrained nose, as was evident from the way the wolves' grimaced and turned away, trying to guard their heightened senses.

The mouth to the crypt had a diameter just slightly big enough for you and Bora to squeeze through, but even as the former Wolfsguard asked Baekhyun to shine a bit of light into the first hall of the crypt, it was evident that there was no possible way either of the wolves could follow you. Bora turned to you with a tight smile.

"I know the layout of the crypt. We scour one, maybe two of the main halls, and that's it. They are big enough, and if the plant we're looking for is not there, it won't be anywhere else in the crypt." Squinting up at the sky, she did the math in her head.

"We have about three hours in the cave. Then we need to head back to camp, so we won't get caught in the dark out here. Check through your bag to make sure you have everything, and we can go."  

The last command made it real, and you could feel your knees buckle slightly at the idea of having to go inside. However, you kept your deserter's thoughts to yourself, as you knew that if you would show any type of uncertainty infront of the wolf, Sehun would press the group to abort mission and return to camp. You have seen his injuries. You saw the way it crippled him from fully enjoying his time with the pack, hell, the way it robbed him of a good night's sleep or a pleasant meal. And with every wince during dinner time or on trail, you also saw Bora's eyes flicker with guilt. You knew that if you backed out of the plan, she would venture inside alone, even if it meant trying to find a long lost herb only by frayed drawing. She knew that apologies by words would not mean anything, she would press on, more ferocious in scouting the territory, in preparing the maps, in sharpening her arrows and daggers.

One of those weapons was currently hanging on your hip, surprisingly light for the metallic appearance of it. "Elven," Bora quipped when she saw your expression. "Very light but still able to deal a lot of damage."

Along with the dagger, you had a backpack slung over your shoulder, and in it were rough sketches of the plant you were looking for. It was a petite plant, reaching no more than over your ankles, all delicate vines and small, round leaves with gentle petals and a reportedly sweet odor. If the colors of the petals were any different, it would be an ideal plant to have in pots under your window, or strung together in a cute bouquet for a first date, be it not that the flower itself had the color of decaying flesh and the inner veins were fanning out in an ominous black, like the skin of a corpse left unattended for far too long. They were said to recieve this discoloration from their primary source of nutrients - they peeked out from half open coffins in murky crypts, or on battlefields where none had survived to bring the information to their allies.

 As you checked the sketch again, your hands began to shake. The calming breath you took (four seconds breathe in, seven seconds hold, eight seconds out) had no effect, and with an annoyed sigh you stuffed the sketch back in the satchel, pulling on the strings to close it. The paper was so old that you could only wish that the drawing was right. What if you had fallen for one of those books written only to scare people away from the woods and crypts? Who in their right mind would name a flower Deathbell, anyways?

It was then that two warm palms cupped your face, making you flinch away from the touch with a quiet squeak. You looked up at Sehun in bewilderment, whose face was clouded in worry.

"You don't have to do this." he told you, confirming all the suspitions you had before. Putting on your most convincing smile, you shook your head (or at least tried...it was hard to do so while it was held delicately in someone's grasp), patting the back of his hand reassuringly.

"This will help you, Sehunnie. It's going to be okay."

"It's not okay if you're in an enclosed space somewhere I can't reach you. There must be some other cure."

"But what if there isn't? What if this is the only way to make you feel better?" Sehun stopped to think his answer over, but you didn't give him the chance to say something stupid.

"And don't you dare say you don't need it. Your pack has wasted precious supplies if we don't at least try to get them." It was your turn to step closer to the wolf, whose glance was directed at the dirt on your shoes. Running a hand through his hair, you cupped his chin and gently lifted it up so he was looking at you. His worry for you was extremely endearing, and you reached up on the tips of your toes to press a small kiss against his nose.

"We will be fine. I promise." Before you had the chance to step away, Sehun was pressing his forehead against yours with a deep sigh, his hands slipping down to your throat, sliding down your arms. As his fingers entwined with yours, he slowly guided your hands to wrap around his waist, before he cupped your face again, being so close to you that you felt the breath from his lips fall against yours.

"The moment you so much as hear something moving in the crypts, you get out. Deathbell, no deathbell. I'm okay with being like this if it means that you're okay." the confession had silenced whatever cooing reassurances you had ready for the young wolf, because the amount of fire and passion in his eyes almost knocked you to your knees. The only thing you were able to do was surge up on your toes once more to press a deep kiss against his lips, hoping that it will convey all that you wanted to say.

I'm doing this for you. I'll be careful. I will succeed.

Wait for me out here.

Sehun moved away from you with extreme difficulty, his wolf howling at him to keep you in his arms, away from harm, away from the place you were about to crawl into that reeked of danger and death. He was rooted on the spot when Baekhyun light the girls' torches with an inextinguishable light.

Bora went first, agile as a feline as she slipped through the hole and landed on the crypt's floor with a mute thud. The height wasn't too bad, the only concerning thing for you was that you had to slip your satchel from your back to be able to get through the entrance and into the dungeon. As much as you tried to copy Bora's movements, they fell short and you landed with a much louder thud than the leader of the Wolfsguard, and for a heart clenching second, the both of you stood as motionless as the dead, ears poised to catch the slightest sound that you had woken what should never rise again.

As Bora gave the silent nod of her head, you turned one last time to look up at the entrance, where Sehun was peeking down at you with a mixture of annoyance, worry and fear.

It was the last look you saw on him before you took a quiet, deep breath, and stepped into the land which belonged to the dead.

The first thing you were surprised to see were the slight glimmers of light far in the crypt. Despite such heavy locks adorning the door, you figured there must be a priest who comes every now and then to check the grounds for any possible unrest. Your stomach still felt weak as you forced yourself to turn away from the lit corridor and inspect the hall you were in at the moment.

The hall that you dropped into was longer than you had thought, and what you had crawled through was a hole in one of the empty resting places reserved for the bodies. Looking around, the bodies were placed in cabinet-style stone constructions, lining both the walls of the hall you were currently in, as well as functioning as separators for different family clans.

Not every body was in a coffin, to your dismay. Quite the contrary, coffins were rare in the room you were currently scanning, making your heart drop. Most of the bodies rested on stone cold tablets, arms crossed on the chest. Even though most have been dead for many years, there were still corpses which clung to their weapons from their living days, as if they were ready to spring up and resume whatever battle had bested them before.

Pressing a cloth to your mouth and nose to guard it from the stench clinging to this place as well as acting as a hopefully effective enough prevention from sneezing at the unknown scents and large amount of dust, you took a small, uncertain step to the closest coffin to you, wedged in between an axe-wielding woman with no arm and a resting ground in which three decapitated heads were stacked neatly in a row. Ignoring the hollow looks in their eyes as best as you could, you brought the torch a bit closer to examine the cracked opening of the coffin.

You knew the chances were extremely low, but yet it didn't stop your stomach from plummeting in disappointment when there were no deathbells present. Fighting the sigh from escaping your lips, you turned to see where Bora had gone. Her torch was on the ground by her feet, hands gripping her bow and arrow, as she glared at the far away corridor light with torches, deep scowl on her face. Swallowing the question you had for her, you decided to sneak over to the next coffin (the clan you were currently inspecting had a total of four coffins to their approximately 30 bodies), trying to focus the most on what was important.

The lid of the other coffin was almost completely slid to the side, revealing the once surely majestic warrior whose hair was now falling out in clumps with the scalp, skin stretched tightly over his face and body. A huge hole hollowed his chest, most definitely the killing blow by something no smaller than a battering ram. However, his broadsword was laying in the coffin next to him, still ready if necessary.

However, no deathbells there either.

A sudden sound echoing in the darkness had you flinching horribly, heart beating erratically. Bora brought her bow up with lighting speed, aimed at the sound's source. It echoed again, a soft howl of the wind from the entrance the crypt now had. It was entirely possible that there were other holes in the crypt, much like the one you used to get in, and with the passage open, it was bound to happen that a few stones would tumble down, creating the scary echo. However, these rational thoughts did not calm your heartbeat, and even though they uprooted you from your petrified stance, it made your step quicker as you inspected another coffin. If your heart could have plummeted more, it would, as your new cache was without the treasure you looked for and the last coffin was still intact and sealed shut.

The main hall you were currently in held the bodies of approximately four clans. The different runes on the sides of the stone slabs indicated the names of the buried and the periods of their demise. If you knew you had more time (and your visit was much safer), you would love to spend ages in these halls, dotting down the nuggets of information that could prove useful. Warriors weren't the only ones who found eternal rest here - with the death of a clan leader, the maids, intelligence and healers were sent to the otherworld as well. You knew it was highly immoral, but if by chance you found a coffin of a healer with their tomes still with them, you would not be above taking it to rediscover cures for diseases that were swallowed up by time, and yet still made a comeback every now and then to wreak havoc.

Bora began moving as well, a soft sway here and there to make sure all the dead stayed that way, her bow and arrow still locked and ready to shoot. Keen eyes scanned the main hall, and yet they always returned to that narrow hallway leading most probably to a different room- crypts were often built with intermingling rooms designed for occasional pilgrims or guards, and so it wouldn't be surprising for you if it was exactly some descendants of the resting clans who took up the responsibility to protect the bones of the elders from grave robbers. Grave robbers like you, you realized with a wry quirk of your lips.

However, the light still made you feel uneasy, rightly so. It is strange to see something that so clearly indicates living presence in a place where everything should have been dead for decades. Trying to push that thought deep back into your mind (and turning around to see that the entrance to the cave is still a straight line and a few long strides away from you), you moved to inspect more of the graves. Bora was still on your left, snooping through the other clan's resting places. You knew that even though the warrior is checking out some of the coffins herself, you wouldn't be able to stop from checking them on your own as well. You wanted to get out of here, as soon as possible.

And your blood froze when from the corner of your eye, you saw a figure standing on your right.

A pained whine left your lips as your legs instinctively jumped away from the unknown character that was standing exactly in the mouth of the hallway that had you feeling uneasy. Your sound alerted Bora, and she was by your side in a moment, arrow already whistling through the air, aimed exactly at the figure's head.

His hand shot out and with a burst of blue energy, it knocked the arrow out of its intended trajectory, making your knees buckle. The person was clad in what most definitely were black robes a long time ago, but the time spent underground tattered the cloth and the dust ingrained itself in the fabric probably indefinitely. His hood was resting on his back, revealing an elderly man with his scalp left bare by his hair falling out in literal clumps. Two linear marks ran down his cheeks in the brownish color of dried blood, sliding down his neck and into the robes.

He tilted his head to the side curiously, crazed eyes bulging out of his skull as he stared at the two of you in extreme interest.

"Living brides? I haven't had those in a while," a voice crinkly as old papyrus cut through the tension of the room, and it was only then that you realized that what you first thought was just dust settling behind the figure were the spirits of two young women, looking both disconnected with whatever was happening to them, but sorrowful at the same time. The necromancer licked his lips, as if that would help the dry chuckle that ripped from his throat.

Necromancers were considered a myth in the capital. After they were banned from the mage's association, they were viciously hunted down for their predatory behavior and more than unconventional preferences. And yet here was one standing before you, and you suddenly wished you never opened the door for the strange party that went searching for you for help.

The wolves waiting outside must have felt the sudden change of ambience, because you heard distressed noises and a hiss of your name echo through the hole. You only had enough time to whimper Sehun's name back before the necromancer was swinging his hand in the direction of the entrance, and as the whole crypt shook, the rocks blocked your escape route. The wall shook at the hits from the other side, but the rocks did not budge. You were stuck.

You heard more whistling through the air as Bora tried her shot once more, only to be dodged by the necromancer, who did not appreciate her attempts at getting an arrow lodged in his eyes. Another swish with his hand had Bora flying into the side of the crypt, a hit tough enough to leave her crumbling on the ground to catch her breath. He frowned, looking over at you with an almost sympathetic look in his eyes.

"Why is your friend being so mean? I will treat you so well. Just ask the girls," he exclaimed, his arm swiping back to the looming spirits hovering weakly in the air. Your eyes filled with tears and with quivering hands, you reached for the dagger that was on your hip in a cutely valiant and yet apparently useless attempt to protect yourself from the menace standing in front of you.

"You do seem to be very docile dear, and I like that in my brides. She, on the other hand," he only flicked his head over to where Bora was already standing with a deep frown on her face, silently evaluating the situation, "needs to learn, that every action has consequences." Spreading both his arms wide, the blue energy that you witnessed moments ago burst through the hall in a blast that had you falling to your knees.

For an excruciating moment, you thought nothing bad happened, and maybe the necromancer was at his energy's end. Your heart lurched forward however, when you noticed another flicker of blue lights in your periphery, and you turned to look just in time as one of the dead warriors was slowly waking back to life, the blue flickering orbs illuminating the space where his eyes used to be.

The tall, lanky body stretched as if they were merely asleep for a very long time, cracking at the joints of their neck and shaking off the lethargy from their rotten flesh. A sudden clash of metal against metal had both you and the warrior jump in surprise. Bora had already engaged one of them, her shortsword looking pitiful against the battleaxe-wielding maiden.

It was surprising to still be able to recognize the deep hatred in a face stripped of all muscles.

"Aim for the heads, ___!" Bora yelled as she pulled a hidden dagger from her pouch and swung with her other arm, promptly dodging the already derelict helmet and striking the undead in the temple. The shieldmaiden stepped back from Bora as if she were confused, before collapsing into a heap of bone and rot and not moving again.

The bodies had a mind of their own. And their main thought was to fight.

With that thought you turned back to the body whose awakening you witnessed just moments ago and dodged a swing of his sword by a hair's breadth. You stumbled back to the ground and kept retreating from the numerous hits the evidently angry body rained down upon you, and in the process the dagger slipped from your clammy hands, cluttering pointlessly to the ground.

This was it, you thought. This was how you're going to die, cursed to become a bride for a deranged individual who preferred the company of aggressive dead.

"The HEAD, ___, get the heads!" Bora told you once more as an arrow swished past your shoulder and struck the incoming warrior in the forehead. In an attempt to escape being squished by the falling body, you rolled to the side, precisely on one of the already awakening warriors.

The shieldmaiden opened her mouth and screeched in insult, and it was an almost automatic response that you lifted the nearby goblet and jammed it into her head numerous times, not even realizing how soft the skull became. It must have been the magic that allowed the necromancer to give the bodies thoughts of their own but made them extremely vulnerable to being destroyed if you knew what you were doing.

You didn't know what you were doing. You were here to collect deathbells, and not to become fertile soil for them.

You stopped once the skull resembled more mush than bone, and you promptly turned over to heave your breakfast onto the ground beside you. Your whole body shook, and you wished Tao was there to stop time because you needed to take a breath, but the dead kept on rising, kept on turning their attention to the object that was moving around in the crypt the most. Bora almost looked as if she were dancing, the graceful movements of her sword slicing through her dead enemies that seemed to be coming in great numbers.  

The wall where your entrance was before shook every now and then, trembling under the powerful blows of the three werewolves standing outside, however the necromancer must have fortified the fallen rubble because it did not budge even though you were sure that under normal circumstances the rocks would have been sent flying.

Trying to shake off the sickness that took over your body, you reached out for the mace that was placed right next to one of the still resting bodies. Just as you lifted it, the magical blue hue appeared behind its rotting eyelids, breathing life into the dead flesh. However, this time you were prepared for it and you immediately brought the heavy, jewel-studded head of the mace down onto the face of an ancient warrior, sending him back to timeless eternity. Learning your lesson from last time, you quickly turned away from the wound as to not make yourself sick again and looked over at Bora, who was slowly becoming overwhelmed.

It was a while since Bora's last opponent was something bigger than a fox, and a horde of undead warriors was no doubt a formidable enemy. Even if their movement was sluggish and uncertain (if you had the time, you would ponder in fascination on what made the monsters move, since all the nerves would be the first to rot away and muscles were found scarcely on some of the bodies, the polished bones shining against Baekhyun's torches abandoned on the ground), they seemed to have endless energy, and if Bora didn't hit them in the head, they would keep returning. You could already see some of the wounds on Bora's body- a cut here and there, blood that seemed to be far too fresh to belong to any of the dead bodies.

In a graceful move, Bora sliced off both of her enemy's arms in two swift strikes before kicking the skirmisher in the chest. The body flew back towards you, and you swung the mace just in time to strike the head and put him out of commission. Bora was able to spare you a small smile before returning to fight against the others. Glancing around you quickly, you noticed not all the dead were risen. Maybe not all of them could be risen, for one reason or another, which meant that soon, all the enemies in these halls would be defeated, leaving you with the necromancer alone. The thought fueled you with some hope, and you tripped an unsuspecting skeleton charging at Bora before thoughtlessly stomping on its' head.

The mush of the skeleton stuck to your shoes like sludge. There are other rooms in the crypt. More undead. No escape.

Isn't all your fighting futile? The rubble from the entrance does not budge, and only the one above knows where exactly in the crypt you were right now. Even if the wolves would find a way to open the magically fortified locked entrance, they would no doubt have to fight themselves through hordes of these monsters and numerous of the necromancer's brides before reaching the two of you.

And you were growing tired. And even if she didn't show it, Bora was growing tired as well. Once you killed all of these undead, what then? Face the most probably centuries old necromancer on your own, who is probably raising more undead while you tried to fight off the crawling torso of a body that Bora couldn’t kill perfectly?

Your arms trembled as you brought the mace down once again, and that was when you felt invisible arms wrap around you tight, so tight you were worried that your bones would break like twigs. The air was pushed out of your lungs and the mace you held in your hands clattered to the ground with a loud noise.

The tips of your toes weren't touching the ground anymore, and you were unwillingly turned towards the necromancer, who was holding his hand out, beckoning you to come to him, yellow and rotting teeth grinning at you maliciously. You felt as if you couldn't move, no matter how much you struggled, and in the background, you could faintly hear Bora's scream of your name as she fought more aggressively against the lasting five warriors.

"No, fuck! ___!!" The necromancer was closer now, and the closer he was, the more disgusting and terrifying he seemed.

"You will serve just nicely," he rasped, and you glanced past his shoulder to stare at the two floating spirits behind him, renewing your attempts to wiggle out his binds in whatever way, because oh my god, you're going to end up just like them.

You had a whole life ahead of you. You just found a group you felt like you can belong in. You finally found that spark in your profession that seemed to be long gone and you gave up hope in forever finding again.

Looking so closely at one of the dead brides, you recognized her face as one of the girls who disappeared years ago from the capital. Word was that she escaped from an arranged marriage to be with her lover and the commotion died down after a few months. Seeing her now, forever bound to a madman, face void of any emotion had tears pushing into your eyes.

Bora was still fighting in the back, two undead with large axes keeping her busy, but she still kept glancing over at you, which cost her dearly, as one of the skeletons was able to catch her off-guard and slice into her side. With a surprised grunt, she turned and caught its head with a dagger, making the body crumple down in a bone heap.

"Eyes on me, darling." a sweaty palm gripped your chin roughly and tugged you back to stare into the crazed eyes of the necromancer. He was breathing deeply, whitened tongue darting out to lick at the bottom of his lip every now and then as he assessed you.

"Yes...yes..." he murmured, fingers tucking back the strand of your hair behind your ear. "You will do just nicely."

"Fuck no, __!" The sounds from everywhere were overwhelming. Bora's desperate groan as she no doubt got hit again for being distracted, the whole side of the crypt thudding in powerful blows, the quickened breath of the psychopath in front of you, breath rotten that made your stomach churn.

Is this how you were going to die?

The palms gripping your head heated up, and they soon began to burn at your skin, making your whole head ache as if put through a torturing device. The aching burn slithered down your neck slowly, spreading over your collarbones and sliding down to the tips of your fingers, over your chest and hips. You squirmed in discomfort, the whine slipping past your lips pathetically weak.

"It won't take long, my love. You will be a fine addition, just don't move. It will be all over soon."

The ache traveled past your thighs, wrapping around your legs and knees in a vice, and you almost felt your joints dislocating under the pain. When it reached your toes, your whole body pulsed once, twice, thrice.

Before it re-started its trek up your body, leaving numbness behind.

You couldn't wriggle your toes.

You couldn't move your ankles.

The numbing feeling was moving higher up your body, and with it, it was taking your soul. Your eyes must have revealed their despair, because the necromancer laughed, moving so close your noses touched.

"Why are you so afraid, petal? It doesn't hurt, does it?" You wished it would hurt. Anything would be better than the slow and deliberate, fully conscious feeling of life leaving you.

Everything went silent, and that's how you could almost hear the blood flow in your body still. Your legs hung limply from the hold of the necromancer. You couldn't feel the tips of your fingers anymore.

"P-please don't do this..." you begged, voice quivering so bad it barely came out.

"Just a while longer," the man cooed, tongue licking over the bottom of his lip hungrily. "Just a while longer and your mine."

The bottom of your ribs began to tingle. Will your heart stop when it reaches them?

Your life flashed before your eyes, replacing the ugly murderer in front of you. You saw your cozy home, filled with vials that helped countless people. You saw your friends, laughing carelessly over the latest gossip and every handsome man that passed by your table. You saw Bora and the other mates, smiling at you warmly and welcoming you, a stranger, into their closest of circles.

You saw Sehun. Saw his smile. The way his bottom lip jutted out in a pout when his older brothers messed with him. The crease of his brows when the scar on his back began aching.

You saw how his whole body relaxed under your fingertips, as you cupped his face and stroked your thumb under his eye. The smile that slowly spread when you were the first thing he saw in the morning. His grin when he succeeded in teasing you. The way his lips felt against yours.

And you tipped your head back with the last surge of strength you could muster, snapping it back with as much force as you had.

There was a sickening crunch as your skull connected with the old man's nose.

You dropped to the floor, head banging against the cold stone. Your fingers twitched life back into them.

Swishing sliced through the air, before hitting its juicy target.

And as you looked up, the elven dagger glistened from the necromancer's surprised face. The body slumped back, hitting his brides, who disappeared into thin air.

The wall finally gave, and you heard three voices yelling your and Bora's names, although you heard it as if you were underwater.

And just as your eyes gave to the darkness, you glimpsed it right in front of you.

A deathbell.

[devil-in-the-d3tails]

It’s the End of the World as We Know It - Chapter 3

summary: During the international quarantine in your first-ever pandemic, the people around you slowly begin to disappear. As the world grows quieter and quieter, you find yourself all alone-- no power, no friends, and only one goal: to find whoever of your friends might be left and reunite with them.You're naive to think anything can be that simple. As you're faced with ever-increasing loneliness, you run into some boys who apparently went to the same high school as you. Will you join forces with them to figure out your strange circumstances together, or will you brave loneliness in a world that is slowly crumbling apart?

Link on AO3!

words: 3,653

rating: M - Mature

genre: angst/humor, romance, adventure, apocalypse AU, reader-insert

warnings: sort of depressing content, a smidge of violence, cursing

a/n: thank you for reading!

- Decisions, Decisions... - 

You’ve been picking at your nails for quite some time. They’re a powdery blue-- or they used to be, at least. They were supposed to match your prom dress, though you never did get to go to prom this year. The blue gown is still in your closet, covered by the plastic from the dry cleaners. You frown at the patches of missing polish, having been slowly chipped away for some time since you painted them-- was it two weeks ago? A month? You weren’t sure what time was anymore.

“...But yeah, other than what we brought back, there wasn’t much stuff left over.” Kuroo shrugs as he picks at some granola straight from the bag. You and the group of guys have gathered in a little circle on each other’s mattresses, and have since introduced each other. Aside from Kuroo, Akaashi, and Bokuto, the new boys you’ve met are Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Kenma. The entire group seems to be weighed down with contented hopelessness-- they all appear to be very aware of their dire situation, but they’re quite alright with it at the moment.

The boy named Iwaizumi sighs-- he’s straightforward and somewhat level-headed, as far as you can tell.

“We’re gonna have to drive further to the next grocery store, then.” Iwaizumi decides, and rubs his neck.

“What’s the matter? Sleep on the wrong side of the bed?” Oikawa, the absurdly pretty one, teases.

“No, I just feel weird since it seems like none of us are gonna talk about our newest addition.” Iwaizumi says pointedly, and finally looks at you. You bite your lip and look away, not quite sure how to explain yourself, either. Why should you expect all of them to just be chill with some stranger suddenly showing up in the middle of the night, sobbing and with a potentially dangerous dog at her side?

“She just introduced herself-- did you forget her name already?” Bokuto says with a laugh. You seriously admire his optimism-- or his cluelessness, you’re not sure which.

“I think Iwaizumi is just suspicious of her.” Akaashi says with a level tone, and he and Iwaizumi exchange a glance.

“Makes sense.” Oikawa shrugs.

“Wha-- How?!” Bokuto exclaims.

“She’s a stranger. She’s got a dog with her-- a dog that could easily hurt us.” Oikawa answers, and Indie perks up when he glances at her with a smile. “But she’s so cute! I don’t think we have to worry about her.”

Akaashi glances at you, and you remember how you told him that Indie did, in fact, attack a boy last night. To be fair, he was an intruder!

“I’m not gonna be here long, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You finally pipe up, and all eyes once again fall on you.

“Huh? Why?!” Both Kuroo and Bokuto say, and you could almost swear they were whining. You laugh a little-- how could they possibly be so attached to you so quickly?

“Well, I’m trying to go to L.A. and find my friend Sami. Then, I’m gonna go to Ohio to live with my friend Callie.” You say evenly, and the entire group looks at you like you’re insane.

“L.A. is… far.” Kenma says quietly, and you’re surprised he’s spoken at all.

“How do you even know your friend is still out there?” Kuroo asks.

“I don’t,” You say, “but I have to at least look. It’s what she’d do for me-- or, it’s what I’d hope she’d do for me. I can’t just… accept that everyone I know and love is gone without looking first.” You become quieter at the last part, and the group seems to understand a bit better.

“Okay,” Bokuto says, “so we just make a trip of it. We pack supplies or whatever, wake up early, and go to L.A. and look around for a couple days. We can camp out in fancy hotels!”

“I’m sorry, we?” You say.

“We’re not gonna let you go alone! Look what happened the last time we left you alone.” Bokuto says as if it’s the most obvious thing. You frown, but he is right. You’re a little scared of being left alone, too, if you’re being honest. Sleeping next to Akaashi made you feel safe, even if you were a bit flustered. Plus, these guys seem to be pretty decent-- none of them have made you uncomfortable so far.

You eat your poptart thoughtfully.

“Why Ohio?” Akaashi asks.

“Well… Callie said, last time we spoke, that her parents were still around.” You respond. “Plus, she lives on a farm. That’ll be way more sustainable than scavenging around grocery stores for the rest of my life.”

“Damn. We should do that.” Bokuto says with a sigh.

“I don’t know how to farm,” Oikawa sighs, then turns to you with a grin. “Maybe we should just come with you to Ohio!”

“That’s… not happening.” You say decisively.

“Aw, why not?” Kuroo croons. “Aren’t we pretty great so far? I feel like Callie would love us. Plus, I’m famous for getting people’s parents to like me.”

“It’s true.” Bokuto says solemnly. You wonder for a moment what kind of story lies behind that exchange, but decide to leave it alone for now.

“It’s gonna take weeks to get to Ohio-- plus, I’m probably gonna have to hop from car to car, since there aren’t any working gas stations anymore, or I’ll just have to suck it up and walk. I’m not about to go on a roadtrip with some dudes I just met-- especially not during the apocalypse.” You say, crossing your arms. Damn, it seems like everything you say makes you seem like a huge bitch-- why were you so against them coming with you, anyway? Maybe you just didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else-- or, maybe you didn’t want to invest your care into one more person, only for them to disappear without a trace, leaving you, once again, alone.

You push that thought away-- that’s too deep for 8 a.m.

“I wouldn’t go on a roadtrip with these guys, either.” Iwaizumi says, and you’re weirdly charmed with how pessimistic he is. His little quip dissolves some of the tension, too, and you’re glad for that.

“I think you’re scared.” Kuroo calls your bluff. You just scoff.

“I’m not scared.”

“You were pretty scared last night, though.” Bokuto adds, unhelpfully. “But, I mean, it’s understandable-- some guys literally broke into your house!”

“Travelling in a group is safer, anyways.” Akaashi says, and you hate that a part of you agrees with him.

You huff out a sigh, and finish off your poptart. “None of you are responsible for me.” You counter.

“True-- but we’re not doing anything else.” Oikawa chimes in, and you’re a bit surprised. “I think it’ll be fun. We can at least go to L.A. together, and that can determine whether you wanna ‘roadtrip’ with us, or not.”

“I like the sound of that.” Kuroo grins. “An experiment.”

“You guys have fun with that-- I’ll stay here.” Kenma mumbles, and Kuroo barks out a laugh.

“No way-- we’re all going.”

“I don’t wanna go, either.” Iwaizumi says, crossing his arms. “Kenma and I should stay behind and protect the gym. Clearly, it’s a little dangerous out there.”

“Good idea!” Bokuto praises, already excited at the prospect of a roadtrip. “This is gonna be fun-- and going to L.A. will be so fast ‘cause there’s no traffic!”

“That’s assuming we find a car with a full tank-- our poor van is barely on half a tank.” Kuroo says.

“Right, that much gas would get us there in the van, but we’d just barely be able to make it back. Plus, we aren’t accounting for how much we’ll have to drive around the city to find Sami…” Akaashi says, his train of thought travelling to the logistics of the operation.

You’re… a little stunned, to say the least. You suppose you can chalk their enthusiasm to go to L.A. with you up to the fact that there really is nothing better for them to do, but… you never expected anyone to be this willing to stick by your side. You’d never had a large circle of friends, especially not in your relatively small town. After your closest friends had moved away, you mostly kept to yourself, perfectly content to have your only friends be the ones you’d known since forever, rather than go through the arduous task of making new ones so close to graduation.

“You guys... don’t have to do this.” You say quietly, having reluctantly accepted that it seems like they’re going to stick by your side, regardless of what you say.

There’s a pause that settles over the group, and Iwaizumi scoffs.

“Like Oikawa said, we’re not doing anything else.” He says, and you smile a little at him.

Another pause settles around the group, but it’s comfortable-- you’re starting to warm up to them, as they’ve clearly warmed up to you. You suppose you’ve given them a change of pace, at least.

“Well, all that aside, we still need to find more food.” Kenma says. “And a mattress for you-- or at least a sleeping bag.” He looks to you, then down at Indie. He offers her his hand, which she licks and nuzzles into happily.

“Don’t you have a mattress back at your house? We can just go get that.” Bokuto says, sitting back against his bed, propping himself up with his elbows.

“I don’t really wanna go back there.” You say quickly. What if those guys were still there? What if more of them flocked to your house because they discovered all of your groceries--?

Oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.” You groan, burying your face into your palms. “My groceries.”

“Your groceries?” Bokuto echos.

“They’re all at my house. All that stuff I got from the grocery store where we met-- Indie’s food, everything.” You say as dread settles over your whole body. “What if those guys are still there?”

Everyone pauses as they consider the situation. They would all benefit from your added supplies-- plus, the trip would allow you to retrieve your bed rather than wander the floors of some abandoned Ikea or Macy’s looking for a replacement. Still, the risk was high. Those guys seemed dangerous, at least to you, and there might be more. Clearly, it wasn’t that outlandish to assume that whoever remained had grouped themselves into survival packs, and that they were willing to do anything to stay alive and fed.

“Okay.” Kuroo stands. “So, we’ll go to your house.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” You ask.

“Me and Bokuto. Just tell us where you live, we’ll go there and get your stuff. Easy peasy.” Kuroo nods, and Bokuto is, of course, up for the challenge.

“...I don’t want you guys to go alone.” You say.

“Relax, it’ll be a quick in and out, you won’t even notice we’re gone.” Kuroo holds his hand out, expecting you to hand him your keys.

You stand and pull your keys out of your pocket, but hold them close to your chest as you build up the courage for what you’re about to say.

“I’m coming with you. I’ll drive, and I’ll get my stuff.” You assert. “You guys have done way too much for me already.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Bokuto asks, worry plastered all over his face.

You nod, even though your gut is screaming at you not to go back. But, you really don’t have any choice.

“If you’re sure, I think you guys will make it okay.” Akaashi says, ever the voice of reason. It warms your heart to know that Akaashi believes in you. “You guys take her car, and Iwaizumi and I will take the van and look for another grocery store.”

“Aw, you’re gonna leave me and Kenma all alone?” Oikawa whines.

“I’m not excited about it, either.” Kenma mumbles, and you’re starting to love his unexpected sassiness.

“My house is only like fifteen minutes away from here. We’ll be back in an hour, tops.” You assure Oikawa, who only looks at you skeptically. Finally, he shrugs.

“Sure, do what you want.” Oikawa says, then gets up and stretches. “I’ll just practice by myself…” He mutters, and you’re not sure what he’s referring to-- maybe volleyball, like Kuroo had mentioned when you first met.

At the moment, you don’t really care. You turn to Kuroo and Bokuto with a feigned grin of confidence.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

[-]

“No shit.” Kuroo smiles in recognition as you turn the final corner onto your street. “Bokuto, Asahi’s place is right over there.”

“Oh, no way!” Bokuto grins as he follows the pointed finger of Kuroo, in the direction of a house that looks very similar to yours, except with a brown roof instead of a red one.

“One of your friends?” You ask, trying to ignore how much you’re fidgeting. You’re so nervous, and you hate it. This is your home, after all-- you shouldn’t be so terrified of returning. You glance out the window and take note of how overcast the sky has become. In the early morning, the sun was peaking through the clouds, but it has since been covered up in a thick layer of gray. Everything seems to be lacking in color.

“Yeah, he was a kickass player.” Kuroo says as you drive by the house in question. “Can we stop by there on our way back?”

“Sure.” You say tightly. Will you even make it back? What if you die??

“Hey, relax.” Kuroo says, and you glance over to him, sitting like a damn king in your passenger seat. He had to push the chair back quite a ways to account for his leg space, much to the complaint of Bokuto in the back seat.

“I am relaxed.” You lie, and resume biting the inside of your cheek. You’re sure that your mouth is raw by now, and you’re not surprised when you taste the beginnings of the metallic tang of blood from your worrying. You puff out your cheeks to try and stop yourself from biting any further.

Kuroo laughs at the display, and you smile back, a bit embarrassed.

In no time at all, you park by the curb in front of your house. You don’t turn the engine off just yet, opting to observe the now threatening building for a moment in case someone suddenly jumps from your door with a gun or something. A flash of red hair recalls itself from your memories, and you grip the steering wheel tighter with a big sigh. Nothing’s there-- you’re freaking out for no reason, you remind yourself.

You turn off the car and pick up your hammer that’s been resting in the cup holder.

“You ready?” Kuroo asks, and you’ve been aware of his gaze on you this whole time. You’re glad he’s at least receptive to your hesitance, and you’re also glad that he and Bokuto are with you. They’re both pretty strong and athletic, and with your hammer combined, you three make a pretty strong team.

That’s what you have to tell yourself, anyway.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.” You give a curt nod, and the three of you exit the car quickly, walk across your lawn, and soon you’re met with your front door. It looks like it was kicked in, with splinters of painted wood littering your porch and the hardwood floors just inside. Kuroo kicks a piece of wood aside absently, and enters first.

“Hello?” He calls with a booming voice.

“What are you doing?” You hiss, grabbing onto his jacket sleeve with ferocity.

“Just seeing if we have the place to ourselves.” He replies coolly, and looks around, surveying the rest of your home. It’s definitely been ransacked-- your mother’s favorite vase is shattered, papers litter the floor, and every single drawer and cabinet has either been ripped from its hinges, or lays hanging open.

“Seems we are.” Kuroo muses quietly after several moments of silence as the three of you take in your sad surroundings.

You can’t believe the home you grew up in has been violated like this-- you can’t believe that a person can be so heartless as to destroy something to this degree. You can’t believe the world is actually like this now. Gripping Kuroo’s sleeve tighter, you suppose that’s just what the world has come to.

“Um… so, where did you leave your groceries?” Bokuto asks, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him being so gentle. You blink up at him only to realize how watery your eyes are, and you quickly blink away any tears that might threaten to fall. You release Kuroo’s sleeve, quickly wipe at your nose, and nod to your kitchen, just beyond the living room you stand in.

The stairs are to your right, and you want to go upstairs to try and salvage anything else you might need, but you’re not sure if you’re ready to brave whatever situation lies above yet.

Bokuto walks towards the kitchen. You and Kuroo follow, and your heart sinks as the three of you are met with an empty table.

The dog food is still there, though.

“Damn it. They took everything.” Your shoulders slump, and you feel really disappointed. You’ve effectively wasted their time and valuable gas in your car just to get supplies that weren’t there. “Sorry.”

“Huh? Don’t apologize.” Kuroo says, and picks up the dog food with a grunt. “We can still get your bed and check around to see if there’s anything else. I’m gonna put this in the car.”

You three spend about an hour there in total, the sky darkening in a bizarre way-- you’d never seen the weather change this much before. In no time at all, and right when you three were ready to move your mattress to the van, it begins pouring rain. Bokuto groans, and runs his fingers through his spiked hair in frustration.

“Maybe if we run fast enough--” You try, but Kuroo shakes his head.

“Your bed’ll get soaked. I don’t really wanna risk it, anyways.” He leans your bed on the wall beside the stairs, and flops down on your couch. “We can just wait it out.”

The rain thunders above you, and you’re almost worried your roof won’t be able to weather the storm, judging by how severely the trees are bent in the wind. You cross your arms, the chill really starting to get to you on account of your busted front door.

“Man, do you have any blankets around here?” Bokuto whines, and you laugh. Your once cosy home offers no insulation at all, so you get up and go to the linen closet. Worried you might find empty shelves, you’re relieved to find it’s been untouched. You suppose blankets were last on those guys’ list-- but it makes you satisfied thinking they might be freezing their asses off somewhere in this unexpected weather.

You return to the couch, and the three of you huddle under the fuzzy blankets. Kuroo invites you to scoot closer to him, but you hesitate. A gust of wind thunders through your front door, and that’s all it takes to convince you to huddle closer. His arm drapes over your shoulders, reminding you once again how small you are compared to them. Bokuto joins you on your opposite side, extremely comfortable with such close contact. Your heart’s racing, because you’ve never been sandwiched between two incredibly hot guys before. You take a deep breath, and you’re glad you left Indie back at the gym, because at least she can stay somewhere that’s dry.

It’s a few hours before the storm lets up, but as soon as the rain just barely begins to lessen, Kuroo shakes you and Bokuto from your naps. Your head was resting on his shoulder, and his head was resting on top of yours-- and as you bashfully scoot away from him, you realize just how warm he is from the sudden absence of heat.

The three of you haul your bed into the van, and decide to pile into the car and officially give up on what little else your home could offer you. After snagging a good deal of your clothes, all the soap you could find, some hair brushes and toothbrushes, you’ve got to accept that your ransacked house isn’t useful anymore.

You park in Asahi’s driveway, and ask Kuroo why exactly he wanted to stop here, to which Kuroo laughs, a little embarrassed.

“Well… before this all went down, I left my whole stash with Asahi because my parents were getting suspicious, and I didn’t think I could get away with hiding it in my house for a bit.”

“Stash?” You furrow your brow, and Kuroo and Bokuto exchange a mischievous glance. It takes you a second, but since you’ve gone to public school your whole life, you understand pretty quickly. “Ohhh,” You laugh, bashful that you didn’t get it at first.

The two boys tell you to wait in the car, so you keep the engine running while they go inside as if they owned the place. You guess they must’ve been pretty close to Asahi, considering how familiar they are with his home.

Maybe ten or fifteen minutes pass before you’re startled by Kuroo and Bokuto booking it out of the house to tumble into your car. Kuroo whisper-yells at you to “Gogogogogo!” and you’re zooming down the flooded road once again.

Your heart hammers in your chest, and you demand what the hell just happened. Kuroo and Bokuto laugh in that way a person does after they can’t believe they just escaped certain death, and the dark-haired boy holds up a sizeable baggie stuffed with weed with an apologetic smile.

“Don’t freak out, but… I think we ran into your boys back there.”

[cyclone-rachel]

do it for him || a supergirl fic

read on AO3 here

~

He had tied up all his loose ends.

Or at least, they had mostly been tied up for him- his sister, inevitably, had abandoned him and gone back to the Kryptonian she seemed to believe she could still be friends with. The false gods that made up Leviathan had either died or been sealed up in a bottle by Director Dox.

And Director Dox… he was dead.

Really, the only thing left was Supergirl herself, as well as all her friends that he didn’t care enough about to remember their names. And with the power of the bottled gods at his disposal, the potential of immortality practically in his grasp already- well, Supergirl may have been considered a goddess on this world already, but she didn’t stand a chance against him. If her friends were threatened, she would fall. It was as simple as that.

But as he discovered in the DEO one night (effectively being its owner and director now, until he could find someone new to take over for Dox- someone who was most definitely not friends with Supergirl, he’d learned his lesson there), it wasn’t.

~

It was like Reign all over again, from a different perspective.

Except instead of Kara not knowing that Lena was running tests on someone who’d become her friend (and trying to separate her from the villain who’d put Kara into a coma) until it was too late, she and Lena and the rest of the Super-friends were the only ones who knew the truth about Brainy, and were dedicated to healing him.

Kara knew that it hadn’t been that long, since J’onn had brought him back, and the team had decided that putting him in quarantine down here was the best way to keep him safe and make sure the radiation didn’t spread. With Lena tentatively back on their side, the team had access to technology that- hopefully- would keep him alive, and they could keep track of how he was healing.

(Of course, they weren’t going to pressure him into coming back immediately, or question him about what happened. He could do that on his own time, and even though it was harder for some of them than others, they knew that following Kara’s motto was the right way to proceed then.)

But it had felt like an eternity, watching Brainy sleep and only rarely come back to consciousness. There were many times when Kara had come down to this room, Brainy’s heartbeat in her ears, and watched him there, wishing that she could’ve apologized to him. That she could have trusted him more… anything, really.

(Even though he wasn’t listening, she had told him that- as well as cried, when she hadn’t had any words left)

He was stable, and out of danger. Everything was going to be fine- that was what she kept telling herself.

She just wanted to be able to talk to him, and hear his reassurance in person.

However, just like she supposed he’d had to wait when her life was at risk, she too would wait for him to wake up for good.

~

If Lex believed in luck, he would think that his own was almost too good.

Not only was the traitor- the former director of his organization, the so-called twelfth-level intellect, who he’d thought was starting to see things his way before he had tried to kill himself saving his friends- alive, he was also being held underneath the LuthorCorp building.

He didn’t admit he made mistakes, as a rule. But this was his chance to rectify a mistake he’d just found out he had made- dispose of Dox, snuff out the Brainiac family line before they could cause him any more trouble and kill one of the Super-friends, all at the same time.

It would be satisfying, at the very least, and as he went down to the basement he nearly counted down the minutes before another loose end of his was tied up, another problem no more.

~

There was another heartbeat, getting closer to the basement.

Kara had up to that point been focused on Brainy- watching the machines he was hooked up to, listening to his heartbeat. It was weak, and sometimes unsteady, but she could still hear it, which meant he was alive.

He wasn’t okay, by any stretch of the imagination. He still had a recovery process ahead of him. But as long as he was breathing, she had hope- for him, and for their second chance.

This new visitor, however, jarred her concentration, and as much as she tried to multitask, she had to be prepared for whoever was coming down there.

Kara knew it wasn’t any of her friends- she’d learned to recognize them with her super-hearing. But this newcomer still felt familiar, and by the time the elevator doors opened, that feeling made perfect sense.

“Lex.”

~

“Three years ago.” Lex started, walking over to Brainy. Kara blocked him from Lex’s view, but he was still looking at Brainy, how he was sleeping, arms laying by his sides over the blanket he was covered by. “Do you remember, Supergirl? Alex Danvers was kidnapped and held hostage by Richard Malverne. And you found her because…”

“She ripped her tracker out.” Kara said.

Of course I remember. And it’s something that you don’t deserve to be talking about.

“Bingo.”

Kara threw a glance back at Brainy, who hadn’t stirred.

“He still has his tracker.” She said. “And it led you here.”

“Got it in one.” Lex answered, one hand still on the gun he was carrying. “You know, you and your friends almost fooled me. I did believe Dox had died on the Leviathan ship. But just like any roach- just like you- for now, he continues to live on.”

He didn’t seem happy about that, and it was something Kara could celebrate- if her eyes weren’t burning already, if she wasn’t waiting for whatever he was going to do to Brainy.

“For now?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lex asked her. “I have to kill him. He wanted to die alone, sacrificing his life like any of you pathetic little heroes, and even if he didn’t get it back then, he may as well now.”

“No.” Kara said, making sure that she wasn’t leaving an opening for Lex to shoot him. “I won’t let you.”

Lex stared at her, for a moment, before he started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“That’s exactly what he said.” Lex answered, scoffing. “When I arrived to pick up the false gods he’d bottled. He believed I underestimated him- and that he would never let me kill you.”

He sounded dismissive, at that- like there was no way Brainy could have been able to stop him from killing Kara or her friends, and that it was obvious Lex knew Brainy’s plan.

Kara had only heard J’onn’s perception of the events- that while she was inside Obsidian Platinum, trying to convince the world that they didn’t just need to rely on a virtual reality system (in a way that Lena later remarked was very Ready Player One), and the rest of her friends were trying to stop Rama Khan and the rest of Leviathan, Brainy had managed to sneak aboard the Leviathan ship, and had in the end contained the gods.

Even if it had also nearly cost him his life, being on the ship and enduring the radiation that permeated it.

And from what Lex was saying, the gods had been contained in a bottle- just like what any other Brainiac would have done to planets.

Kara’s heart warmed, hearing that, despite the situation she was in. Just like any of her friends who came from dark pasts, with family members who had negative reputations, he’d managed to reclaim it for good, and she was proud of him.

(As she had been, too, when he’d removed his inhibitors.)

(She hoped she would be able to tell him that, when he woke up)

“If you’re asking me, I think he was right.” She said.

“Even though he betrayed all of you.” Lex stated. “He let the DEO fall, and nearly let all of the Kryptonite in it kill you. Does that really make him still your friend? Can you still protect him, knowing that he didn’t do the same for you?”

At some point, Kara might have said no- knowing how it felt like he was lost to her and the others, like he had drifted away with no explanation. But she remembered the look in his eyes when he asked her to use Myriad, how he had trusted her absolutely and expected nothing in return. How ever since they had first met, he was dedicated to helping her, making sure that she was safe- and how even recently, that hadn’t changed.

(During the attack on the DEO, she had heard him, while he was trapped under a fallen piece of the building. It had been quiet, inaudible to anyone who didn’t have super-hearing, but he had still said her name, and if he hadn’t been trapped, he could have helped her then, too.

Wanted to, in fact, even though his loyalties lay with Lex at that moment.

And although he couldn’t… it still counted for something.)

“I can.” She answered. “And I will- no matter what you say.”

And he did protect me- just not then.

But I didn’t see it until it was too late.

Lex groaned.

“You heroes.” He said. “Dox was useful, but I should have seen it before- he was just like you, all along.”

He pointed the gun at Brainy again, almost pulling the trigger.

“And as valuable as he was when he had let go of all of you… I don’t need him anymore.”

~

The world seemed to slow down, after that- although after she grabbed the gun, bullets still safely contained in it, everything sped up again. Kara wrenched the gun out of Lex’s hands, and folded it between them, making sure it was useless before turning her attention back to Lex himself.

“No Kryptonite?” she asked, and smiled as she saw that, for once, he looked surprised.

“No.” Lex said. “But I still win- because you won’t kill me. You can’t. Still the city’s hero, remember?”

Unfortunately.

“I know.” Kara answered, and Lex was back to his collected composure.

“Then you’ll let me leave.”

Kara wanted to groan.

“Yes, I will.” She said. “But if you come back, know that I won’t be alone.”

“Neither will I.” Lex told her, and then as if nothing had happened and he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary, he went back to the elevator.

(Her hands were shaking as she watched him leave, and her eyes didn’t stop burning until after the elevator doors closed.)

(She wasn’t sure what exactly he meant- was it just because he’d taken the bottle?

But regardless, she was going to make sure she kept her promise as well, and if Lex made his way back down to attempt this again, she’d know he would regret it.)

Soon, Kara couldn’t see him anymore, and her focus was back to Brainy, and his heartbeat, and his eyes that were opening as he struggled to stay awake.

“Brainy?” she asked, relaxing, her voice no longer confrontational. Instead she was gentle, and she gave him a smile as he managed to sit up. “Are you okay?”

“I am unharmed.” He said, his gaze going to her hands, before he noticed how her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “What about you? Did something happen, while I was…”

Kara clasped one of his hands between both of hers, as she nodded.

“Lex tried to break in.” she said. “But I handled it.”

Brainy’s face grew grave, as he seemed to be looking past her, probably imagining Lex in the room.

“Thank you.” He answered.

“You’re welcome.” Kara said. “And… I never thanked you.”

“For what?”

His confusion almost broke her heart, as she gently squeezed his hand.

“Everything.”

“Betraying you? Not being able to see that Lex would try to kill you regardless of what I did involving Leviathan, and regardless of the order in which we set our plan into motion?”

Kara shook her head.

“I know you never wanted to betray me.” She said. “Or any of us. And, between you and me… I would’ve done the exact same thing you did. Also, just given the little talk Lex and I had, I don’t think he saw that coming at all.”

Brainy considered it, smiling now as he looked up at her again.

“That is reassuring.” He said.

“Thought so. And, Brainy?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for saving my life- all the times you’ve done it, or even tried to. What I said a few months ago, about you being good to your core? It’s still accurate. You are a true hero, and once you get better, I promise we’ll take Lex down together.”

“It would be an honor.”