#examining their now pure white hand in shock to focus on anything else. until they hear their mother say ���My wyrm they're awake�� and

[dairyfreenugget]

(Going insane boinkinh one AU in my head)

Hey hey hey

May I interest you in

(Slowly slides my FaaF AU towards you but void just Disappears without a trace one day before the accolade)

Teehee

[cdroloisms]

Do you think c! Quackity are skilled on the mastering of "necessary convincing" on a person? And man the stream yesterday was so intense dark theme.

hello ! 

this is testament of how behind i am in asks, haha, considering this was sent basically at the beginning of q’s visits and it’s been ,, uh ,, several months since then ASJKFLJAS - but im going to try to answer it now while pretending that we dont have months proving that c!quackity is very willing to do whatever the hell it takes to get the revive book from someone.

i think that the ,, technicalities? of the torture were never an issue - everyone in the dream smp universe has to know how to use a weapon in its most basic form, after all, just to defend themselves from mobs and stuff, tho some people are clearly more adept at using them than others. torture is ultimately just hurting someone until they do what you want them to do (way oversimplified, but this definition works here) - physically, if you’re able to kill a zombie, there’s functionally little different with inflicting harm on a defenseless unarmed human with no means of defending themselves.

the real challenge, as with most things in the minecraft roleplay, comes from the mental side - how far is c!quackity really willing to go? obviously he *can* hurt someone, but doing so also tends to go against a lot of our most basic instincts as humans. defying that becomes the real question to consider - and c!quackity, in his increased willingness to hurt not only c!dream, but everyone as he’s manipulated people more and used people more for his own gain in the last few months, seems to providing as much of an answer as we’re going to get. 

this obviously isnt to say that he isn’t conflicted, or that he’s pure evil !! but c!quackity, by his own admission, seems to hold little trust for other people and ideals anymore. his main goal is Las Nevadas and whatever he needs to make it great - anything and everything else is either a means to his end or an obstacle in his way. i dont doubt that there are chinks to this mindset to exploit, things that he cares about enough to take his single-minded focus off of Las Nevadas. as of now, though, i don’t think that torturing c!dream and the violence it’ll require of him will be that breaking point.

anyway, have a really dark snippet exploring c!quackity some more !! he’s really fun to write, though i don’t think i’ve really mastered his voice yet - practice makes perfect, i guess. heed the warnings and hope you enjoy! 

tw: torture, abuse, blood, injuries, branding, violence, death mention, abuse apologism, mental deterioration, dark content, dark imagery, very dark portrayal of c!quackity, pandora’s vault/prison arc

There’s a certain learning curve that comes with torturing someone.

It sounds obvious, thinking back, as much as it sounds morbid as all hell, but it’s not like he’s in any position to judge. Quackity swipes another stack of iron from a chest, momentarily grumbling about the cost, before melting down three ingots for the blade of his next axe. He could just do it in a crafting table, but there’s a degree of calm in the monotony of doing it all by hand, slowly watching as the iron begins to glow red hot in the heat of the furnace and then hammering it into shape on his anvil. He hadn’t been good at it before, had let Sapnap do the majority of the smithing for the three of them in the past, but. Well.

When you’re eating through several sets of iron tools a week, either from bending them out of shape against unforgiving obsidian or melting the blades past saving in lava or burning them all entirely, when he’s too tired to be bothered cleaning off the blood and simply chucks the used tools after a session into the molten rock outside the cell, you kind of have to figure out how to make your own shit so others don’t get suspicious.

He beats the metal into a block, humming softly over the clangs of his hammer. There’s definitely a learning curve to crafting weapons, too - he’s pretty proud of the ones that he can make, now, even though he’s still no good at any of the fancier furnishings and finishes (nor does he particularly care about them). Figuring out how to torture someone effectively was a similarly slow process - finding their limits and how far to push before something, inevitably, gives. He hadn’t exactly handled it the best in the first few visits, usually retching into the nearest wastebasket at the smell, at the feeling of blood coating his fingertips, at the screams ringing incessantly in his head. It wasn’t all that long before he forwent sleep altogether, devoting all of his time on paperwork and calls and anything that would deafen the cries that would’ve haunted him otherwise. He was no good with his tools, either - more than a few times, in those early visits, did he end up slicing too deep or going too far and needing to cut the session short for Sam to come in and administer health pots before Dream died and rendered all of their efforts useless.

(Sapnap had been the one to first teach him how to wield an axe, correcting his stance and his grip with gentle, calloused hands. He remembers them training on the newly laid dirt surface of Mexican L’manburg, sweat dripping down his neck from the sun beating against their heavy armor, Sap laughing at his unbalanced, heavy-armed swings and demonstrating with his own weapon, movements fluid and graceful as if it was an extension of his own arm. In the cell, he thinks of Sapnap’s voice, firm in his focus - feet at least shoulder width apart, hands braced on the axe handle, left sitting just above the end and the right just a few inches below the head - and swings.)

It had been...a process. A bloody, often painful process - his hands are calloused, now, in ways they never were before, from the constant handling of his many tools. His back aches constantly from bending over, and his shirt - more often splattered with blood than not - now bears some permanent pink stains that he can’t get out no matter how hard he tries. (The laundry, he thinks wryly, had been a hell of a learning process as well.) He picks up the metal with a pair of tongs, easing it back under the fire’s heat until it glows a soft pink, and then places it back onto the anvil to work - slowly beating the metal into shape.

He’s had to learn a lot. The lessons are fascinating, in a gruesome, morbid sort of way. He’d brought a brand the other day, painstakingly carved into a fancy, curlicued Q all on his own, used in his work at Las Nevadas originally to finish furnishing a few pieces of leather furniture he had scattered around the city. As Dream struggled under him, skin blackening under the white-hot metal, he’d immersed himself in the sight, far more similar to his past leatherwork than he might’ve originally expected. He almost wanted to do it again, just to compare, but the stress of it all had been enough to knock the prisoner into shock, which had put a significant damper on the rest of his visit. He watches the iron glow contemplatively from his anvil, not nearly as hot as he works at it.

Another dip in the furnace later, it’s heated just enough to work out the finishings, and he carefully knocks the ends into a blade. Picking it up with a pair of tongs, he holds it up to a nearby piece of glowstone, grinning at the finished axe head. There’s still quite a bit to do, technically - he still needs to sharpen it along with the other ones he’s finished, as well as fasten them to their handles, but even so - it looks good. He examines it, back and front, against the light. It’s probably his best one yet.

Quackity smiles to himself as he puts it down with the rest, pulling out his calendar from behind him and carefully marking another red X over the date. Learning to torture someone takes a hell of a lot of time, but. Well.

He has all the time in the world.

[annab-recs]

Midsummers Nightmare - JJ Maybank

Rafe seems to have a little crush on you and you do not realize it until it’s too late. You don’t react as he had hoped, and you don’t have the best timing when it comes to telling your friends and boyfriend, JJ.

Requested by @rochyu 💙

Warnings: some curse words; small amount of verbal and physical abuse

Word Count: 2.2k+

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

"I hate your brother." The insult falls from your glossed lips as you roll your eyes at the eldest Cameron who stood farther away from you and Sarah, his blue eyes locked on your swaying figure. Sarah chuckles before nodding in agreement with your statement.

"Yeah, he can be an ass," the blonde in the elegant white dress acknowledges as she grips into your arms gently and spins you two around so that you don't have to be in his line of sight anymore. You give her a small thank you smile as you get back to dancing with your friend. The midsummers music flows through the two of you and together, y'all sway your hips and spin around as giggles fly from your mouths.

"I think he has a crush on you, to be honest." Sarah's sudden words cause your eyes to widen.

"But I'm with JJ." She laughs before leaning into you to whisper in your ear.

"Let me tell you a little secret. I'm with Topper but I'm crushing on someone else too." She pulls away from your ear with the deepest hue of red spreading across her cheeks.

"Who?" Your curiosity is just dying to know but she shakes her head, indicating she will not be speaking more on the subject. You decide not to pester her any further and just vibe to the music with the brown-eyed beauty next to you. All good and fun vibes leave as soon as you feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see who it is. Rafe.

"Can I help you?" Sarah spoke harshly to her older brother but was soon distracted when Wheezie came running up.

"I just want to talk to you. Please? I won't bother you anymore." The way he spoke sounded like there was something more bothering him and his blue eyes appeared to be almost scared. That in turn worried you and caught your attention so you nodded your head, letting Rafe grab your hand and lead you away from your friend and the crowd that had gathered on the dance floor.

"Okay, so what's wrong?" You asked him as soon as y'all were alone in a room upstairs. He still had that worrisome expression on his face and it just made you even more anxious.

"I need girl advice," he mumbled softly. Relief washed over you as your mind could quit making up worst-case scenarios and focus on the frazzled boy in front of you.

"All right, spill," you instruct, and he nods before beginning.

"Well I like this girl a lot, but I don't know if she feels the same way as I do. I think she does, but I don't know. I feel like something is holding her back."

"Do you think the thing that is holding her back can be overcome?"

"Yes, and if she's scared to overcome it by herself, I'll surely help her." It was nice to see Rafe be so vulnerable and open and it was a side you wished to see more of. As being friends with Sarah for a long time, you had known Rafe for equally as long. You have seen him be nice and sweet but as he's grown, he's become harder and meaner. You don't know why but by the way he's acting now, you see the sweet Rafe you had known when you were younger.

"Have you told her how you feel?" You question as you lean against the wall next to you.

"No, but I have made it so obvious," he states as he takes a few steps closer to you. Absentmindedly, you take steps back as well.

"Rafe, you like this girl. Tell her how you feel. Make your move." You feel your back hit a wall behind you.

"If you say so." His hands lay softly against the sides of your face as your mind tries to understand what happening and when it all clicks, his close proximity to you, how he's always staring at you, how Sarah literally said earlier that she thinks he has a crush on you, how the thing that's holding you back is JJ, it's too late. Rafe's lips are on your own.

You push against his chest to get him off you and your face shows nothing but pure disgust. As Rafe watches your actions, that soft and sweet Rafe you saw previously had left as quick as he came, and his demeanor changed completely. He raises his hand in the air before smacking it across your face.

"Rafe!" He has never done anything like that to you before so to say you were shocked would be an understatement. His hand comes towards your face again and grips your jaw harshly.

"I was going to try to save you from the dirty pogues, but I see that you are the same trash that they are," he spoke through gritted teeth. Using the grip he had in your jaw, he pushed you back into the wall, your head hitting the wood enough to leave you with a pretty bad headache. Your hand flies to the back of your head as Rafe walks over the window, gazing at the party below. 

"Looks like your dirty pogue has arrived. I'll take care of that." And with that, he left. You had no doubt in your mind that JJ couldn't handle Rafe, so you stayed put, mainly in fear. You could feel the stinging handprint on your face, the pounding in the back of your head, and it was almost as of Rafe's hand still had a hold of your jaw.

You sat there as tears brimmed your eyes. You would have to go downstairs eventually and have to face the people you had grown up around. You also didn't want to pass Rafe or his two lackeys, Topper and Kelce. Not wanting to see anyone just yet, you sit and think back on all that just occurred to you. You had never expected the man in the baby blue tux to come on to you like that and you definitely didn’t think he’d hit you.

Scrambling to your feet, you slip out of the room to a bathroom next door to examine your face. You didn’t look too bad. No one should be able to tell anything after you fix your makeup. Thankfully, you had brought some with you in your purse and applied it to where it had been smudged by Rafe’s hands. Your eyes are still tear-filled, but none have fallen just yet. You are not going to let yourself break until you are home, alone. When you finally build up enough courage to go back down and leave, you are met with a bit of commotion amongst the party as you watch JJ shove a guy in a black suit.

“Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie and Y/n,” the battered blond speaks to you both as he points at you two. He moves his finger towards Pope. “Pope, you as well, all right? Rixon’s Cove. Let’s roll.” His attention goes back to you and Kiara. “All right, girls, come on. Workers of the world unite. Throw off your chains!”

You happily run to your boyfriend and jump into his arms after he and John B salute each other. He spins you around as you three wait for the other two who have to put up a small fight against their parents. Pope runs up to y’all as his father yells from afar and he wraps his arms around John B. Kie comes seconds after, laughing as she runs into JJ’s arms. Pope pulls you into him as the five of you run away from the kook-filled place, but not without John B yelling, “Later losers!”

Soon enough, y’all make it to Rixon’s Cove, get a fire started, and sit around discussing what the mandatory meeting is about. John B explains that the gold in on the island before providing the evidence of Denmark Tanny and how he used the gold and his whole story.

“So, what’s the plan?” Pope questions as he looks at the letters with a flashlight. You look over his shoulder to get a look at them too.

“Good question. So, Sarah Cameron’s coming tonight. She’ll bring an original survey map-” John B starts but is cut off by Kie.

“Hold on. Sarah? Why Sarah?” John B stays silent while JJ mutters, “This is gonna be good.” You were just as confused as Kie. Why was Sarah getting involved in this? She was your friend, but she was not near as close to you as the pogues were and this was a pogue thing anyway.

“Sarah, um, she got me into the archives in Chapel Hill yesterday, and that’s where I got the letter.” John B tells her as you watch the disappointment and betrayal wash over her features.

“You were in Chapel Hill with Sarah Cameron?” She asks as he agrees. Of course, JJ has to make the situation worse with his little comment, “He was mackin’ on her.”

“I wasn’t macking.”

“You were totally macking Sarah Cameron.”

“So that’s what Sarah meant earlier when she said she had a crush on someone else that wasn’t Topper,” You add before the boys go back to arguing.

“I wasn’t macking on her, okay? I was using her for access.”

“There was access, all right.”

“Did you tell her about the treasure?” Kie interrupted the two boys bickering.

“I was just trying to get into the archives.” John B defends himself, basically admitting to telling her.

“Is that a yes?” Kie pushes.

“I- I left out key details.” He still doesn’t deny telling Sarah Cameron about our secret.

“Yo, what? You let a kook in on our secret? What about pogue life? What about the t-shirt company, bro?” Kie continues as Pope and you sit back and watch it all unravel. They all continue to talk as you zone out watching the fire until Pope speaks from beside you.

“Her brother did hit me in the back with a golf club.”

“Yeah and he kissed me, slapped me, and pushed my head against a wall earlier.” The group fell silent at your confession. You didn’t realize you had spilled until the silence came over you.

“He what?” JJ spoke as he walked over to you from beside John B and Kie.

“When did this happen?” Kie asked you.

“An hour or so ago. It was right before we left. I came down and you were going off about coming here. I wasn’t going to bother you with it until later because I know how heated you get,” You say calmly as you grab his hand to make sure he doesn’t get too riled up and angry, but your attempts seem to fail.

“I’m gonna beat the shit out of him,” JJ speaks through gritted teeth as he stands to his feet.

“No, JJ.” The softness of your voice brings him back to where you stand. The tears have come back, and one manages to escape despite your efforts to not cry. The blond pulls you into his embrace where you finally break down, the hurt and pain from Rafe’s actions finally taking a toll on you. Soon, you are wrapped up in all the pogues' arms as they comforted you. Later, you and JJ left for the chateau while the other went to meet Sarah.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” JJ asked you as you laid against his chest, his fingers fiddling with the ends of your hair.

“I didn’t want you to worry about it and if I had told you there, you would’ve fought him right then and there. I couldn’t tell you then.”

“I’m still gonna beat his ass.”

“That’s okay but be with me first. Your time for revenge will come, but don’t insinuate it. Okay? I don’t need you getting hurt more than you already are.” You lean up to rest your chin against the top of his chest as you stare into his gorgeous blue eyes. You bring your hand to rest on the side of his face, and he leans into your touch before letting out a sigh.

“Fine. I won’t do anything until it’s time.” You rubbed your thumb over his cheek softly as his eyes fluttered closed. When he opens his eyes again, they appear to be glossy.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask as you sit up. He follows suit, leaning against the wall.

“I never want you to have to experience what you did tonight.” His sad eyes lock with yours.

“JJ, I’m okay. It’s okay,” you speak softly, running your fingers through his smooth golden locks. You let your hand trail down the side of his face to his arm and finally, it meets his hand and your fingers interlock with his.

“It’s not okay. You may be okay, but what he did was not. I’m not going to let that happen again. I should’ve been there with you tonight, but John B-”

“John B needed you. That’s okay. Let’s just go to sleep and forget about it, all right?” He nods as the two of you go back to laying down. You rest your head back down on his chest and with the soothing sound of his heartbeat, you fall asleep in seconds.

[thexgrayxlady]

Notes: This is a purely self-indulgent and very lighthearted AU and if I’m the only one who is enjoying themselves with it, that’s all that really matters. TBCH I’m not sure where I’m going with it and I know this isn’t very good or perfectly in character, but I’m having a good time and it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything, so I’m okay with it if I’m just writing a messy little crash into hello.

The Universe Won’t Wait for You

Outside the ruined temple, dark clouds gathered and howling winds carried the metallic tang of summer storms. Heady incense drifted from inside, where the flicker of braziers cast statues of forgotten gods in stark chiaroscuro. Yet, under the wind and crackle of flames, the air hung still and silent, charged with the promise of lightning.

The jungle crept up around the ancient stones. Gnarled vines threatened to drag the crumbling archway back into its depths. Fragments of cracked and chipping mosaics peered through the leaves, their tiles scattered across the floor with the trees’ detritus.

The roof had long since caved in and the once gilt friezes lining the main hall were now washed almost smooth. The faceless figures posed in the uncanny silence, leading the way to the sanctuary.

At the altar, a group of very annoyed people stood over the unconscious leader of a dragon cult and his scattered cards, having narrowly averted the end of the world for the third time in as many months. The timing was inconvenient for everybody involved and it was universally agreed upon that it would have been better if these assholes had waited until next weekend to try and destroy the world.

“So if we beat the megalomaniac of the week, why isn’t the portal going away?” Tea asked, vaguely gesturing to the swirling silvery distortion above the altar.

“I keep telling you nerds it’s not a portal.” Although against his will and his better judgement, the geek squad had grown on Seto Kaiba like E. coli on room temperature meat, he would still sooner saw off his own hands with a rusty spoon than admit it.

“We could always leave it alone,” Bakura said, disdainfully looking over one of the cultist’s discarded scrolls before rerolling it. “His Latin was terrible. It probably won’t do anything.”

“It won’t do anything because it’s a not a portal.” Their group would have it found it infinitely more worrying if he didn’t insist that the latest near apocalypse had a logical explanation. As of late, he’d settled on saying that anything he couldn’t immediately explain wasn’t magic, just science they didn’t understand yet. Everyone might have appreciated this a bit more if not for how often they had to deal with the fallout of his attempts to understand the science. “Watch.”

He picked up one of the scattered cards (rare, but only good for niche dragon decks and he would notadmit that he would have found this clown’s cards useful) and tossed it towards the floating mass. It passed through without incident and collided with the back wall.

“Wheeler could make something more convincing.” He rolled his eyes. This entire escapade had been a nuisance. He still wasn’t sure how he’d been talked into it. The others certainly hadn’t just mentioned that they needed a ride.

“Yeah, these guys tried to take our dragons cards and dragged us out here to show us some crappy holograms,” Joey replied.

“You would believe a bunch of delusional lunatics.”

Yugi paused checking on the cult leader and decided to head this off before it became serious.

“Guys, stop fighting!” he said, his voice quiet and gentle, yet brokering very little argument. When he realized that Kaiba was gearing up for an argument, he added, “You’re wasting time and the sooner we figure this thing out, the sooner we can leave.”

“Whatever,” he said, turning dramatically, letting his coat flare behind him. “I’m going to figure out what’s going on because some of us have jobs to get back to.”

“You’re self-employed!” the blond shot after him.

While he examined a pile of rubble on the far wall for a projector or an off switch, the others looked over the altar and scrolls. He was just about to shift some stones out of the way when lightning split the sky.

The portal flared and spun wildly. Roaring thunder followed close behind and a glowing thing shot from the portal before it collapsed upon itself as if it had never existed.

“Kaiba look out!” Yugi shouted. “That thing’s headed straight for…”

“It’s a hologram,” he shouted back, gesturing dismissively at the thing barreling towards him without actually looking at it. “It’s not like it can hurt…”

The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, his ears ringing, and struggling for a full breath.

When he regained enough sense to figure out what was going on around him, he realized that his arms were wrapped around something warm and solid. The thing thrummed under his hands, like working on an ungrounded circuit. He came around to a curtain of white and a pair of horribly familiar blue eyes.

The woman shot back, her fingers splayed across his chest, her face contorting in stunned confusion. She started to speak, her voice raspy and quiet, stumbling over words in a language he didn’t understand. Yet even without knowing the words, he got the sentiment.

“What. The. Fuck.”

This couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be real. He must have cracked his head when he hit the ground. She had to be a hallucination or a hologram or…he didn’t know, he couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out what specific kind of nonsense was going on.

Somewhere off in the distance, the nerds said something, but it was like listening under water. And as much as he wanted to shout at them to shut up so he could focus, the words stuck in his throat.

He knew her. From that trip to Egypt. Her name was…

No. No.

This wasn’t happening. The world didn’t work this way. People did not just fall out of holes in the sky. He’d been dragged kicking and screaming into accepting that maybe the supernatural bullshit that followed him around possibly had some merit, but thiswas a step too far.

None of this made any sense. Kis…She was impossible. You couldn’t just fling someone through space and time with badly mangled Latin. It took energy. It took machinery. Complex math, things that went beep, big red buttons that gave the nerds heart attacks when he pushed them.

(But these idiots were trying to summon a dragon, weren’t they?)

This violated so many different laws of physics. There must be another explanation. He just had to keep calm and think of it. His heart hammered against his chest. Every time he almost had a grasp on this, he caught her eyes, and any theory beyond rote denial slipped away.

She couldn’t be real. He’d barely thought of her since that trip. Whatever, whoever, she was, it was the past. It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. He had to focus on figuring out how the hell some loser cultists managed time travel with some incense and dead lizards, no if they managed time travel some incense and dead lizards, when, despite his disregard for the laws of men and gods, even he was still mostly beholden to thermodynamics.

They probably hadn’t. There had to be something in the incense.

Still, the logical part of his brain told him that even his best holograms didn’t feel this real and there was no logical way they knew what she looked like. Her heartbeat fluttered under his hands. She smelled like prison grime and ozone and petrichor.

So a hallucination then. But everyone else kept talking. He still couldn’t really hear them, but maybe they could see her too. Or that was just another facet of his concussed delusion. But if this was a hallucination, then why couldn’t he understand her? He’d never hallucinated in a language he didn’t understand before.

Not a hologram. Not a hallucination. Where did that leave him? Flat on his back on a cold stone floor with a dead woman straddling his waist and the growing certainty that he would never live this down.

Again, she leaned in, her head tilted to the side. Time slowed as she brought a hand to his face and his heart beat too steady to be truly calm as she studied him. She was so small. He could easily throw her off and get away, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even look away as the world shrank down to just the two of them.

She didn’t look quite the same as in the memory. She didn’t seem half so fragile. Her long, pale hair was tangled and her face prematurely lined. Her dress was more a collection of mismatched patches than an actual garment. Bruises and scars bloomed along her arms and collarbone amid patches of thick, almost scaly looking skin.

He wondered if the memory, vision, whatever it was, was accurate. How much of what he knew about her was true? How much had been made up by someone who’d never met her to fit her role in the game? Did it even matter? He was his own person, why should he care about her just because of a supposed connection to the Blue Eyes White Dragon?

Yet despite everything going on, she seemed alert and curious, determined to figure out what exactly just happened, whereas he had to remind himself to keep breathing.

Just before her rough, calloused fingers brushed his jaw, a jolt of static leapt between them. She reeled back, her pupils snapping into narrow slits. Thin, cracking lips curled back over sharp teeth in an inhuman hiss. Her shoulders flexed and he half expected wings to unfurl from her back.

Then she must have caught sight of the others because she shrank back, trembling. A horrible charge built under his hands. He willed himself move just enough to let go.

She scrambled away, breathing in sharp, hissing gasps. Upon reaching the far wall, she shot up a crumbling pillar and crouched as far back on the bottom ledge of a frieze as she could manage and stared down in horror as the first few drops of rain fell through the broken ceiling.

He stared back, the concussed or drugged or shocked daze lifting just enough to drag himself to a sitting position.

She was impossible. But her eyes were electric bright and she’d felt like a damn live wire in his hands. He hadn’t figured out the physics behind this yet, but he understood one thing.

Kisara was very real.

[wedreamedlove]

[FIC] K I S S

Rating: T Characters: Li Zeyan, Xu Mo, Bai Qi, Zhou Qiluo, Reader Word Count: 12,428

Tags: Nothing explicit. Kisses. Minor jealousy. Tension.

Summary: You wake up in a white room. Fortunately, it doesn't seem like you're alone because you see four familiar men. Unfortunately, the room is sealed and no one has any idea how they got here. The only clue is a door that won't open and a piece of paper with the word "KISS". Uh oh...

You wake.

Oh, but not all of a sudden. It’s more of a slow, gradual awakening where your consciousness is pulled up to the surface from wherever it was buried.

You come to feel that your head is resting on something firm and it makes you furrow your eyebrows, shifting a little, because you’re certain your pillow isn’t this hard.

The thing below you moves when you do though and then you hear a voice.

“—Chips!”

It’s a familiar nickname from a familiar voice and you crack open your eyes, squinting against the brightness, to see Zhou Qiluo looking down at you. The stiffness in his body relaxes when he sees that you’re really awake, but concern still lingers in his eyes as he checks you over. One of his hands ghosts over you, skimming your shoulder, side, and hip, and that’s when you realize you’re lying down with your head in his lap.

“How’re you feeling? Nothing hurts? Can you get up?”

Although you’re taken aback by this barrage of questions you reassure him that you’re fine and sit up without his help.

You look around your surroundings.

Pure white.

That’s your first impression. Your second impression is that it’s not actually pure white, because you can see where the white walls join together to form a room. However, you’re not sure how the shadows are being cast since there’s no clear light source here. It hurts your head to think about it too hard though and so you look away to the spots of color that stand out in this inorganic space.

There, pacing the length of one of the walls, is Bai Qi. He looks like a caged wolf with the amount of tension radiating from his frame as he strides from one end to the other but, when his eyes catches yours the moment he feels your gaze on him, you see his steps slow slightly and the tightness in his body loosen. Bai Qi checks you over with a look and then returns to pacing after he’s sure that there’s no problems with you.

Moving on, you see Li Zeyan standing in front of a large wooden double door. He’s standing there stiffly with a subzero expression on his face and if looks could kill then the door he’s glaring at would have been microscopic rubble already.

He also feels your eyes on him and glances over. The heavy look on his face doesn’t lighten when he sees you conscious though and instead he makes a flat comment. “You’re quite something to sleep for so long in a situation like this.”

Before you can say anything, a calm voice breaks in and defends you.

“Even though there were no visible injuries, we don’t know if anything else happened. That unconsciousness was abnormal.”

You turn your head to see Xu Mo standing just a few feet away from you and Zhou Qiluo. He has a gentle smile on his face, one that deepens when you look over, but his eyes are cold when he casts his gaze over the room and stops on the door. For some reason, you feel a dangerous air around him in the way he’s standing there motionless with a hand in one of the pockets of his customary lab coat.

“How are you? Does anything feel strange or out of place?” He asks.

You try to lighten the atmosphere by saying this room and everyone being here is strange. It earns you a snort from Bai Qi, a chuckle from Xu Mo, and a laugh from Qiluo. Li Zeyan only looks over without an expression. But the invisible pressure from him makes you clear your throat sheepishly and ask for clarification on where this place is and why everyone’s here.

“No idea. We all woke up here at the same time, despite going to sleep at different hours,” Bai Qi is the one who answers you.

“You were here as well,” Xu Mo anticipated your question, “However, you were unconscious no matter what we did until now.”

There is a pause as you mull over that oddity.

Then Bai Qi continues on. “This room is 20 meters by 15 meters, all the walls are solid, the door is locked, and our Evols aren’t working.”

You’re shocked to hear him drop the word Evol here, but a quick look shows that no one else is confused or surprised. It seems that everyone here is in the know about Evols and about each other.

“Time has stopped. But, as Bai Qi mentioned, it isn’t from me,” Li Zeyan adds. He tilts his hand to show his frozen wristwatch to you.

“We haven’t been here long enough to determine if we can grow hungry or thirsty though,” Xu Mo cautions.

The small relief you feel at hearing time is stopped disappears immediately at Xu Mo’s words and your concern rises again. You look over at Qiluo who has been quiet up to now.

“Sorry, I woke up here with nothing but these clothes,” he gestures at his casual wear, “I don’t have my phone or computer with me.” You understand he’s telling you that he has no way to get access to anything inside or outside this room. Despite his words though his smile is reassuring and he rubs your back with a hand that was placed there while you were listening to the others.

You ask everyone what the plan of action is now then.

There is a heavy silence after your question is asked.

“I don’t know.” Bai Qi breaks the silence but his words are low and tense, and the muscle that jumps in his cheek shows how hard he’s clenching his jaw. He glares at a random spot on one of the walls.

Xu Mo sighs, “We can only continue to look for clues here. Maybe now that we’re all conscious something will have changed.”

Qiluo verbally agrees while Li Zeyan doesn’t object, which means he’s given his tacit approval. Qiluo stands up first before you and then offers you a hand. You take it without reservation, feeling a small comfort from his warmth, and get pulled easily to your feet. When you thank him, he flashes a smile at you that disappears when he seems to realize something.

“Oh! Guess now that you’re up, I don’t have an excuse to be lazy anymore. I’m going to have to help look around.”

It’s clear that Zhou Qiluo cracked a joke to put you more at ease and you cover your laugh with a cough as he slides a hand into his pocket and strolls off to one side of the room, examining the walls. His nonchalant act is so good you’re almost put under the illusion that he’s walking through a museum and looking at artworks on a wall instead of being trapped in a white room and staring at blank walls.

During this time, Li Zeyan has gone from glaring at the double door in front of him to studying the walls beside the door too. Bai Qi is still pacing on his side and looking intently at the corners where the walls join together to form the room. Meanwhile, Xu Mo hasn’t moved from his position a few feet away from you, close to the center of the room, observing everything in a quiet manner.

Everyone seems to have covered what to examine and so, for a second, you flounder and wonder what else you can do. But you’re driven by the need to contribute somehow; it doesn’t sit well with you to stand around and be useless, especially since you were unconscious earlier. Looking around again, you decide to start with the most obvious thing in the room.

You announce that you’re going to look at the door.

“It’s been checked and it’s locked,” Li Zeyan informs you. It doesn’t look like he expects anything to have changed even if you look at it. But he also doesn’t do anything to stop you.

Neither does anyone else, so it seems safe enough to approach the door. You know them all well enough to be certain that someone would have stopped you if it was deemed dangerous.

You go up to the door. It’s bigger than you expected and becomes even larger as you get close. The wooden double doors loom over you and you would need to tilt your head back if you wanted to see the top, but right now you’re looking at the engravings on the door. There’s carved grooves that cover the entire surface of the door and, even when you step back to look at the door in its entirety, they don’t seem to form any patterns. The grooves curl, swirl, connect, and break apart without any sense. Maybe they’re just some sort of abstract design?

Since you’re not getting anywhere with the grooves you put that out of your mind and focus on another part. There are two handles in the center of the double door; one handle for each door. Makes sense. Li Zeyan told you the door is locked, but you decide to double-check anyway. There’s no harm in doing that.

But it happens the moment you touch one of the handles.

There’s a brilliant flash of light and, right as you make an exclamation of surprise, an arm wraps itself around your waist and hauls you back. You collide into a hard chest and, next thing you know, you’re being held a few feet away from the door.

A piece of paper flutters down into the spot you were just standing at.

All these events happen within seconds of each other.

Your heart pounds from the sudden rush of adrenaline, much like the rapid heartbeats you feel from the person behind you. The firm muscles of the arm around your waist relax as the person adjusts their hold on you and that’s when you realize you’ve reflexively grabbed his arm with both hands.

Releasing him, you’re about to turn around to see who grabbed you when you hear Bai Qi ask, “Are you OK?” His breath stirs the hair at the top of your head and his words come out breathless.

You tell him that you are.

Bai Qi’s arm around your waist tightens for an instant before he releases you. He doesn’t step back though, his chest a solid heat against your back, and his hand hovers nearby just in case you need help. But, despite being shaky from the surprise, you can still stand on your own.

You quickly look around to check on everyone else.

Zhou Qiluo is frighteningly still, as if he’s a coiled spring ready to explode into action at the slightest provocation, and it’s only when he sees you unharmed that he releases his tension and rocks back on his heels. Xu Mo’s eyes are focused on your waist, his expression completely blank, but when he realizes you’re looking at him he gives you a relieved smile and then moves his gaze from you to the door.

On the other hand, the severe look on Li Zeyan’s face barely changes even after he sees that you’re safe. Instead, when he strides over to the spot you were pulled away from and picks up the paper on the ground to read it, the frown on his face deepens even more if that’s possible. Every line on Li Zeyan’s face screams with rage and you’re surprised the paper hasn’t spontaneously caught on fire.

“What’s it say?” Qiluo is the one who asks.

Li Zeyan doesn’t answer and his hand spasms, as if he’s thinking about crushing the paper. But he ends up handing it roughly to Xu Mo who comes up beside him.

Xu Mo reads the paper and you see a furrow appear between his brows.

Seeing the two of them react like this makes you anxious and this time you’re the one who asks what it says.

Xu Mo looks up at you, pauses like he’s choosing his words, and then tells you, “It only has the letters K, I, S, and S.”

You blink.

Then your brain starts spinning and puts them together. K, I, S, and S. KISS. Kiss…? Wait, that kiss? No, no way. You clear your throat, feeling silly for even thinking about something like that in this situation, and ask if those letters are an acronym for something.

Qiluo rubs at his chin, looking thoughtful. Li Zeyan still looks darkly displeased, glaring at the door again. You tilt your head back to peek at Bai Qi’s expression only to see that he’s turned his head away to the side, but his ears are a faint red. Okay, no help from this one.

Returning your attention back to Xu Mo you see him shrug, and you find yourself taking a second to appreciate how elegant he makes that look, before he says, “That is one possibility. Or it could simply be what it literally means: contact with the lips.”

Somehow, you don’t think you’re imagining the weight of all the men looking at you…

An awkward - at least for you - silence falls upon the room. Everyone is deep in their own thoughts.

But then Zhou Qiluo claps his hands, shattering the silence. “I’ve got it then!”

There’s an easy smile on his face that clears away your worries and you walk closer to him to ask him excitedly if he’s cracked the code. It looks like even without a computer, he’s still the amazing KEY.

Qiluo gives you a puzzled look, “Nope. I was thinking we should test the obvious and move on if that doesn’t work.”

Huh?

Before you can ask him what he means Qiluo grabs your arm, tugs you into him, and leans in. You hear a shout from behind you, but you don’t have time to pay attention to that when a soft sensation brushes across your forehead.

… Huh!?

You blink and then realize you’re staring blankly at the dip between Qiluo’s neck and collarbones. Did he just kiss you? You raise your head and see him looking down at you with bright blue eyes, as tranquil as a cloudless sky. He grins, flashing one of his canines, and you feel your cheeks heat up. It’s not so much the fact that he kissed you that makes you embarrassed, but that he did it in front of everyone else.

He releases your arm when you take a hurried step back. Looking over your shoulder, you see Bai Qi a few feet away with a foot forward, like he was in the middle of coming over to you and Zhou Qiluo but abandoned the idea; he switches between glaring unhappily at Qiluo and looking towards the double doors.

It turns out that Li Zeyan and Xu Mo are also staring at the door.

You and Qiluo follow their line of sight, but nothing seems to have changed with the double doors. It looks the same as always.

But Xu Mo notes, “There was a flicker of light.”

“Mn,” Li Zeyan gives a noise of agreement.

So… it is a kiss in the literal sense then? You voice this thought out loud, but no one has an answer. Xu Mo looks contemplative though.

And then Li Zeyan walks up to the door, catching everyone’s attention, and tries the door again.

Clack. Still locked.

“Maybe it’s me? Since I gave the kiss?” Qiluo brings up. He doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just shrugs off, Li Zeyan and Bai Qi shooting him narrowed looks and walks up to the door beside Li Zeyan to try the handle.

Clack. Nope, still locked.

The hope that rises in your chest plummets instantly and settles like a rock in your stomach. Your shoulders drop and, even though you know you shouldn’t be surprised it isn’t that easy, somehow you were hoping it would be just that easy.

Xu Mo comes over to you at this point and asks, “May I try something?”

You look at him helplessly because what answer other than “yes” is he expecting? If you don’t let him try then wouldn’t you and everyone else continue to be trapped here?

The corner of Xu Mo’s eyes crinkle in amusement like he read your thoughts and then he picks up your hand in both of his, raising it so that he can press his lips to the back of your hand. His lips are slightly dry and cool against your skin and, to your surprise, he doesn’t pull away after kissing your hand. Instead, he raises his eyes - and your breath stutters at the way those deep, dark-colored eyes glance up at you beneath long lashes - and looks towards the door.

You gather your scattered attention and look over as well to see that the double door has lit up. To be precise, it’s only the top left section of the double door that has a purple light, and even then the light barely covers a strip of the door and flickers like it’ll disappear at any moment.

In fact, the light does disappear in the next second and, just as you make a small exclamation of surprise, you feel Xu Mo push up your sleeve with a hand. You look back at him to see that he’s already raised his head from your hand and then he drops his lips onto your inner elbow. You jerk back reflexively, startled at the contact, but with one of his hands still holding yours and the other holding your arm you’re firmly restrained.

He breathes, and you think you can feel the ghost of a smile against the crook of your arm when you tremble. You hope your goosebumps have gone unnoticed though.

This time the purple light races across more of the door, following the myriad of grooves, but it still only covers a small section of the door before it disappears again when Xu Mo pulls away.

As Xu Mo lowers your hand, humming in thought, you try to work out the meaning behind these lights and the door.

Then he reaches for you again—

But someone grips your elbow and, with a sharp tug, you’re sent stumbling backwards. A broad back soon fills your vision and blocks your sight of Xu Mo.

“That’s enough.” Li Zeyan’s voice is terrifyingly low, like two tectonic plates deep in the earth grinding against each other.

“Is it?” Xu Mo’s words come out serene, but there’s also an unknown quality in them that draws the air around these two men tight with tension. You peek around Li Zeyan to see that Xu Mo’s lips are curved into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You know as well as I do there’s one more thing to test.”

“No.” This time it’s Bai Qi who barks this out and you turn your head to see that he’s come closer, one hand clenched into a fist beside his leg.

Xu Mo glances between him and Li Zeyan.

You’re sure it’s not your imagination that the tension in the air now feels like it’s sparking towards an explosion. You look over at Zhou Qiluo, trying to find help to defuse this situation. You don’t know how Xu Mo’s words rubbed Li Zeyan and Bai Qi the wrong way, but it’s certainly not going to help anyone if these three get into a fight.

However, you find that Qiluo is watching the three of them with an unexpectedly sharp gaze. It’s only when he notices you looking at him that his eyes soften and he gives you a reassuring smile. You dart your eyes between the three men and then back to Qiluo, making it obvious that you want his support before you do anything. But Qiluo’s smile turns mischievous and he puts on an affected helpless look, shaking his head. You narrow your eyes.

While you have this silent conversation with Qiluo though, Xu Mo speaks up, “I believe both of you are misunderstanding me.” He spreads out his hands in an innocent manner.

Li Zeyan and Bai Qi don’t respond.

This time you’re unable to withstand the pressure building around these three, feeling a cold sweat trickle down your back, and so you quickly ask Xu Mo for clarification. What is he testing? And what else does he need to test?

Li Zeyan angles his body towards you, disapproval in his dark eyes. But it’s impossible to take back your words.

Xu Mo’s attention settles on you. “I don’t believe we would be wrong in assuming that the more light there is on the door the closer we are to solving this puzzle. Zhou Qiluo’s kiss on the forehead compared to the two kisses I gave covered the most area. However, the lights from both our actions disappeared the moment we withdrew. Putting aside the difference of area covered by the lights, if the two of us have the same instantaneous disappearance of light I would like to see if there is a difference when we change the initiator of the kiss.”

You give him an admiring look. Geniuses really do have quick minds. Xu Mo smiles at you, catching your eyes.

So, you just have to kiss him then? You voice this out loud, and then realize how that sounds. Clearing your throat, flustered, you clarify yourself and ask if it can be anywhere like the cheek or something? Xu Mo’s smile deepens at your correction.

“No,” Li Zeyan rejects this. If his voice gets any colder, you imagine you’ll be able to see icicles forming on your clothes.

“It doesn’t have to be me,” Xu Mo calmly says, “Zhou Qiluo and I both lit up a different section of the door. It wouldn’t be a stretch to believe there are two other sections that correspond to you and Bai Qi.”

Wow… what a sadistic door. This thought crosses your mind even as you look up at Li Zeyan, since he’s standing closest to you and the one who vocally rejected this. You ask him if he doesn’t want to get out of here?

Li Zeyan looks back at you in silence with a gloomy expression, gaze sweeping across your face.

You endure it and point out that it wouldn’t hurt to try, unless he has a better alternative? The five of you can’t continue to remain here.

His eyebrows draw together, forming a deep furrow, but he still doesn’t say anything. So, before you can wilt underneath the displeasure he’s exuding you decide to just go for it. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you stand up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

At least that was your plan.

However, Li Zeyan takes a reflexive step back in surprise, which breaks your balance, but as you find yourself tilting over he steadies you immediately with hands on your waist. Your lips miss the mark of his cheek though and land on the underside of his chin.

“You…!” Li Zeyan’s eyes widen.

You take a second to appreciate catching the normally composed CEO off guard before you turn your head to check on the door. By the time you look over the light is already disappearing from the top right section of the double door though. Fortunately, the disappearance is not instantaneous and you can see how the red light races backwards through the grooves. It almost seems to make out some sort of illustration, but the light is soon gone and the illusion of an illustration disappears back into a confusing mess of engravings.

“That covered more than Zhou Qiluo’s kiss did,” Xu Mo notes.

“It also lasted longer than yours, and I’m guessing mine,” Qiluo adds.

While those two are discussing this, Li Zeyan releases you like a scalded cat and takes another step back, lips thinning into an upset line. You stumble at the sudden lack of support but then Bai Qi is beside you with a steady hand.

“Are you OK?” He asks you in a quiet voice.

You tell him you are, but you don’t miss how he shoots an unhappy glare at Li Zeyan. Li Zeyan isn’t even looking at him though, or you for that matter, and you try not to let that bother you. Not only does Li Zeyan have a poker face, which always makes it impossible for you to guess his thoughts, but he also seems to have a mercurial mood around you. In one moment you’re praised and then in the next you’re called an idiot.

But, in any case, now isn’t the time to solve what’s bothering Li Zeyan. You put him out of your mind and focus on the present situation. By now, you don’t need anyone to tell you what this means. The light lasted the longest when you were the initiator of a kiss. The location of the kiss being the underside of Li Zeyan’s chin covered the most light but it still wasn’t everything. So, there’s only one possible answer this is all heading towards.

Why is it a kiss on the lips though? Every other thing that was done should technically count as a kiss too, right?

“Do you want to argue semantics with this room?” It’s only when Li Zeyan replies to you sardonically that you realize you said your thoughts out loud.

Xu Mo clears his throat and, when you and the others look over to him, he has an arm folded across his chest with the other arm raised to press a lightly curled hand against his lips. You recognize this pose as one he takes before he starts a lecture.

“I’ve been considering this, ever since we established how we all appeared here after falling asleep. That perhaps this room is a shared space between us all. This door is distinctly linked to us and, as for the definition of a kiss, the first thought an adult would have towards one is of a romantic nature. You would only consider the technicalities of a kiss after thought or if you were trying to find a loophole.”

You and Qiluo must have been thinking the same thing because he voices your thoughts. “If you’re trying to say that we’re all sharing the same dream, then couldn’t we just think really hard to change things? Or wake ourselves up?”

Xu Mo shakes his head. “Therein lies another question: just who is the master of this dream? All of us equally? Some more than others? Or just one of us?” He extends a hand and spreads his fingers, turning it back and forth in front of him. “If this is a dream then the detail is outstanding, enough to trick the perception. Because of that, I also believe it is too late now. Much like seeing an elephant in a room and then being told it doesn’t exist, some part of your mind will always accept this as an immutable fact, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise.”

“That’s a detailed explanation,” Bai Qi comments in a neutral tone.

Xu Mo gives a closed-lip smile. “My field of study is neurology after all.”

Suddenly Qiluo’s eyebrows shoot up in realization and he grins mischievously. “So, seeing as a kiss is needed to solve this door, doesn’t that mean someone here is having naughty dreams?”

Right after these words Li Zeyan and Bai Qi stiffen and then you see blue eyes land on you. The others seem to follow that line of sight to you one after another. Excuse me!? You don’t need a mirror to know that you’re red underneath everyone’s gazes because your cheeks burn with heat. You shake your head vehemently, denying Qiluo’s words. It’s just as likely to be the other way around, with you as the innocent one and everyone else here being the dreamers!

As you throw everyone else under the bus without scruples, in the corner of your eye you see Bai Qi turn to the side, hand rising to cover his reddening face. Li Zeyan spits out the word “childish”, appearing offended by your insinuation, while Xu Mo hides his laugh behind a cough.

Qiluo nods with a serious expression. “True, true. I don’t know about the others, but at least I know I’m not the master of this dream or else this place would have—”

You say his name loudly to interrupt the rest of his words. Zhou Qiluo raises both hands in surrender, laughing. “I was only going to say this place would have bags of chips! Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop teasing. Don’t be angry, please?”

You try your hardest to hold onto your glare, but your twitching lips gives away your amusement. The uneasy atmosphere that had settled when Xu Mo was talking disappears as if it has never been there to begin with.

However, this doesn’t last long and the gravity of the situation reasserts itself.

So… it looks like a kiss on the lips really is the way to get out? You bring this up again for clarification, but also hoping someone came up with an alternative answer.

But no one offers another solution.

Just as your eyes start to dart around, skirting around the men here, Bai Qi spins around and stalks over to the double door. “I refuse to believe there isn’t another way out.” He presses the handle down and pulls. Hard.

Of course the door refuses to open, but he continues to struggle with it. Despite giving Bai Qi an unimpressed look, Li Zeyan still walks over to his side and re-examines the door while discussing things in a low voice. Xu Mo watches them.

Meanwhile, Zhou Qiluo catches your eyes and tells you, “I’m happy to go along with whatever you wanna do.”

You jokingly ask him what he’d do if you decide to stay here then.

Qiluo answers without missing a beat, “No problem! I’ll treat it as a vacation. Aah, honestly, the only thing that’d make this a paradise is if there was food here… and maybe more privacy.”

You don’t catch his last words, too busy covering your startled laugh when he plops down in an exaggerated action and falls backwards to cross his arms behind his head. Again, you can’t help but be amazed by how Qiluo can make this blank and eerie room feel like a normal place.

But, in the end, you decide out loud that you’d like some time to organize your thoughts and everything you just learned.

Seeing that no one has any objections, you go over to the other side of the room and crouch down, dropping your sight to the ground. So, are you really going to kiss all four of them to get out of this room? Do you even have a choice? It doesn’t feel right to drag your feet on this when the answer is right in front of everyone. It’s just a kiss, right? But all of them? And in the same room?

As your thoughts spin around and around, you feel tempted to clutch your head and groan. If this really is a dream then why can’t it be simpler? For example, placing everyone in a different room. Why does the difficulty level feel like it’s set on extra hard!?

Wait.

If this is a dream then doesn’t that mean nothing matters? Maybe no one will remember this when it’s all over?

“Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.”

You’re startled out of your thoughts by Xu Mo’s voice which flows into your ears like a calm stream. It looks like he came over to your side at some point and, after you look up at him, he takes a seat beside you, sweeping his lab coat back with an arm so that he doesn’t sit on the underside.

It doesn’t take any time to identify the words he quoted. They were from Zhuang Zhou, a Chinese philosopher back in the Warring States Period. You say this out loud.

Xu Mo touches your head, giving it a stroke. “Correct. He was of the thought that there must be a distinction between him and the butterfly; however, it is impossible to distinguish between dreaming and being awake. Perhaps this will never be known until a person reaches enlightenment. Then, in this event of not knowing whether we are in dreams or reality, should we not treat all our dreams as a state of reality? What you feel, experience, and learn exists regardless of the form of the world.”

You must have accidentally said your earlier thoughts out loud on how, if this is all a dream, then nothing matters. So, does Xu Mo mean that because any place is indistinguishable between dream and reality you should treat everything as real and do things with sincerity? It is said that a life without regrets is an important thing.

You tell Xu Mo that you think you understand what he’s getting at. To be true to yourself, right? You can’t help but smile at how this seems like another version of his very first advice to you. To trust in your instincts.

Something ripples across the surface of his eyes as he stares at you.

You clear your throat, feeling a bit flustered when he doesn’t say anything, and ask him if you got it wrong.

He blinks, looking a bit surprised at himself before he smiles. The gentle expression softens the weight of his attention. “No, you’re right. You catch on quickly.”

Xu Mo reaches out again, as if he can’t help himself, to rub your head. But this time, although you accept his praise with a self-satisfied “hehe”, you ward off his hand to protect your hair from getting mussed. He can only withdraw his hand with a helpless upturn of the corners of his mouth.

During this lull in conversation, you take a look at the other three men. Zhou Qiluo was sitting up from his previous position lying on the ground and watching you and Xu Mo; he tilts his head, glancing between you two, and mouths a question to you, asking if things are OK? He must see your confusion at his question because Qiluo points at his head, making you realize he must have seen you guarding your head from Xu Mo. You quickly nod and smile for added reassurance.

Then you search for a certain police officer in this room, reminded by Qiluo’s concern. Fortunately, because Bai Qi is still testing the double door, it doesn’t look like he noticed your small exchange with Xu Mo or he would have come over (you remember some notable incidents at your shooting sites); but it does feel like Bai Qi is about to resort to force. Meanwhile, Li Zeyan has moved onto scrutinizing the grooves in the door.

“Are you hesitant about kissing everyone here?”

You jolt at Xu Mo’s astute question and, as you turn to him, your shoulders rise to cover your awkward expression. Is it that obvious? You ask him this, but you know he’s always been able to read you like an open book.

“It’s a natural reaction in this case.”

So he’s also aware of how this room’s request is outrageous then. You don’t hide your sigh or the way you hang your head. Why is it you? Hey, wait. You perk up your head and look at him again, pointing this out. Why IS it you? Sure, the light lasted the longest when you did it, but no one’s tried out other combinations with each other.

Xu Mo raises an eyebrow and pokes your nose. “Silly fool, what do the four of us have in common here?”

You scrunch your forehead in thought, going through things like their occupation, their age, their physical features, and their hobbies, but they’re all too different from each other. The only thing they have in common is… Oh. You. Not to mention, some of them don’t even seem to know each other, or they’re just surface-level acquaintances with each other.

You duck your head down miserably again, probably looking like a turtle drawing back into its shell.

“You don’t need to think so much. I’m certain everyone understands that these are extenuating circumstances.” Xu Mo chuckles and comforts you with these words.

Right… right. It’s like giving CPR or something. You latch onto this thought and say it out loud.

However, Xu Mo gives you a troubled smile. “I don’t think that would be wise. Remember, this room is seeking a kiss. If you convince yourself that you’re not giving a kiss then you may not fulfill the requirements.”

… Inwardly, your mind does its best impression of “The Scream” by Edvard Munch. Could that even happen!? You picture the scenario of working up the courage to kiss one of them only for it not to count. You’re struck with the urge to clutch your head again. Such a sadistic room! Xu Mo has a point about getting it done right the first time, so that you don’t have to do it over again. Honestly, it doesn’t feel great having to play by this place’s rules but there also doesn’t seem to be anything you or the others can do about that.

You breath in deeply, hold the air in your lungs, and then send it whooshing out together with your hesitation and embarrassment.

Following this action, you spring to your feet and turn around to Xu Mo to hold out your hand, telling him that you’re going to do it then. It’s just one kiss, right? Well, four in total, but one for each.

Xu Mo looks up at you from his seat on the ground and you’re struck with how uncommon it is to see him like this. The sourceless light in this place shows his thin lips clearly, along with his defined cheekbones, proud nose, and the elegant sweep of his brows; altogether, these features should make Xu Mo appear aloof from the world, but the gentle curve of his jaw and the way a smile hangs on the corner of his lips transforms his atmosphere. Whenever he smiles at you, it feels like a layer of softness settles over him. However, despite the light illuminating everything, it cannot seem to penetrate the depths of his eyes, framed by long eyelashes. Like deep pools, every now and then you can catch a glimpse of a rippling purple in his eyes, but it’s a royal purple so dark that it comes off as black.

This all happens in a moment before he takes your hand and gets to his feet, although on his own without your help. However, as he stands up, you find yourself needing to tilt your head back to keep eye contact with him and suddenly the presence around him, which was restrained, seems to envelop you when he’s at his full height.

The smile on Xu Mo’s face deepens. “How would you like to do this?”

Your expression stiffens on your face. Does he need to ask this? Confirming every step just makes this more awkward! But then you catch the mischievous glimmer in Xu Mo’s eyes, making you send him a disapproving look. You tell him briskly to close his eyes and lean down.

He obediently does so, chuckling.

You reach out to grab the lapels on his coat and then pause. You only need to lean up and kiss him on the lips, but you know you’re not imagining the prickling stares from the other three men at your back and, with the deliberateness of this set up and Xu Mo’s earlier question, the mood has gone strange!

Not that there was a mood to begin with…

Realizing that you’re trying to delay the inevitable with your tangential thoughts, you keep your voice nonchalant as you tell Xu Mo that you’re going to count to three. He gives a short hum of acknowledgment.

One.

Two.

Three.

… Xu Mo, with his eyes still closed, gives a helpless smile. “Should I be the one to count instead?”

You agree that it’s probably a better idea if you aren’t the one counting.

“One… two…” he counts at an even pace, “three.”

The end of his count catches you with hands tightened in his lapels, but feet glued to the ground. You clear your throat self-consciously, telling him that he counted too fast and you weren’t expecting that so you weren’t ready yet.

Xu Mo opens his eyes with a soft laugh and then before you can react he exchanges positions with you, stepping around you so that his back is to the others, blocking their vision, before his lips descend onto yours.

You startle at the cool sensation that touches your lips, eyes closing instinctively, and try to pull back but his hands have settled at the back of your head and waist to hold you still. Quickly, you remember the purpose of this kiss and tentatively move your lips against his. Is this good enough for the door? You’ve kissed Xu Mo, right? And, even though you’re covered by Xu Mo, you can’t help but be aware of the other three men.

However, just as you think this, a sharp pinch makes your eyes fly open to see half-lidded dark eyes watching you. You realize distantly that the stinging sensation from your lips is because this man nipped you; but the majority of your attention is pinned by his gaze. Those eyes are the eyes of a beast. Hungry. Covetous. And is that not a look of exultation from a hunter catching their prey?

Surprise and a faint sense of alarm at this alien look on his face makes you tremble. You open your mouth, but only get out the first syllable of his name before he cuts you off.

“Don’t think about anything else. Just pay attention to me.”

Xu Mo’s voice is low and you don’t have time to react before he overwhelms you.

His tongue seizes the opportunity of your parted lips to intrude into your mouth. He explores this intimate part of you without any reserve, sliding his tongue against your teeth, stroking the sensitive roof of your mouth, and entangling your tongue and trapping it beneath his. You can’t keep up with this assault, feeling completely at his mercy and an indistinct pleasure fogs your head. Even though his lips and hands are cool, your warmth is shared to him and gradually both your temperatures rise.

Xu Mo’s hand flexes on your waist and then, with a tug, you’re pulled right up against his chest, which is broader than you expected. Turns out his clothes make him look more slender than he is in reality. He straightens up, forcing you to rise onto your toes and to lean against his chest. Next, he tilts your head with the hand that’s in your hair and deepens the kiss.

Through the hot haze of sparks that tingle through you every time he moves his lips against yours, you feel a desperate need for oxygen; but he doesn’t budge even when you push at him. Instead, Xu Mo presses his mouth even harder against yours. Like he’s trying to devour you. Or like he’s trying to keep you as close to him as possible. You blindly try to breathe but just end up swallowing the combined saliva in your mouth.

Finally, when you’re pretty much resting against him and clutching at him to stop yourself from sinking to the ground on shaky legs, he pulls back.

Xu Mo’s cheeks are flushed a faint red and his chest is rising and falling faster than usual, although not to the extent of how you’re gulping for air. Still, this is probably the first time you’ve seen him so disheveled.

When you blink past the mistiness in your vision you notice that his eyes are dark to the point where you can’t even see a hint of purple. But then he blinks, eyelashes sweeping down, and when they raise his expression has returned to its normal gentleness. His eyes are as serene as an undisturbed lake.

Xu Mo tidies your hair with meticulous care, smoothing out the area where he had been holding your head, before he moves on to fix your disheveled clothes.

It’s at this point that you come back to yourself and step away quickly, fixing the rest of your clothes yourself with a flustered expression. You can’t seem to look at Xu Mo directly and, as your eyes dart around, you exclaim in surprise when you happen to look past him to the double door behind him. You take a few steps past him to get a closer look. He follows your line of sight and also turns around.

The top left section of the double door has lit up in purple light, and bright and dark shades of the color fill in the numberless grooves on the door. From your position, where you can see the door in its entirety, you realize you didn’t see wrong during the moment you kissed Li Zeyan. The light and grooves do make an illustration and in this case you can see a tortoise shell outlined in a royal purple, while the rest of its body is in a purple dark enough to be considered black. The neck that comes out of the tortoise shell is sinuous and long, like a snake, and it curves partially around the shell so that its head rests on its back while its webbed feet are tucked underneath its body. The half-lidded slitted purple eyes of the turtle-snake watches everyone in this room with a solemn presence.

This is Xuanwu, the Black Tortoise of the North.

You glance between the illustration and Xu Mo, curious as to why this holy beast of water appeared for him on the door, only to see that he’s staring at the illustration with a narrow look. But when he feels your gaze on him, he turns to you with a small smile.

“Interesting.” He doesn’t add anything more to that statement.

Then Zhou Qiluo clears his throat.

You startle at the noise and you’re abruptly reminded of everyone else’s presence. The other three are looking over in yours and Xu Mo’s direction and you fight back the embarrassment that burns beneath your cheeks. You reassure yourself that Xu Mo was blocking everyone’s sight, so it’s not like they saw anything, and even if they did this whole situation is an emergency. You’re just doing what you need to do to get everyone out of here.

Qiluo looks at Xu Mo, who is standing somewhat behind you, and something you can’t make sense of passes between them over your head. But soon enough those bright blue eyes return to you and Qiluo comes up to take your hand and lead you a few steps away.

He changes his grasp on your hand so that he’s holding both of your hands in his and then grins. “My turn.”

You unconsciously squeeze his hands out of nervousness, making him tighten his own grip, but the smile on his face doesn’t change. He just watches you patiently. For some reason you feel like you should apologize, but you don’t know what to apologize for or why you’d need to apologize.

Your eyes dart around his face, taking in the casual but artful way his blond hair falls over his forehead. It almost seems to glow gold in the light of this room like a miniature sun and, paired with eyes that are as clear as a sky without clouds, you find yourself relaxing from the warmth and security he gives off. His smile widens, flashing a glimpse of one of his canines, when he feels your hands lose their tension and he runs his thumbs across the backs of your hands.

“Yup, that’s right. Relax, relax.”

Qiluo suddenly leans in and you shut your eyes reflexively, expecting to feel him kiss you.

Except you feel his lips skim across your forehead instead.

Confusion fills you, but before you can open your eyes another kiss lands on you. This time it’s between your eyebrows. Then kisses land on your eyelids. Then your nose. Then your cheeks. Each kiss is like gossamer, brushing against your skin with a light, ticklish feeling. Qiluo continues to drop this tender rain of kisses on you everywhere but your lips and behind your closed eyes you can see flashes of yellow. You don’t need to actually look to know that the double door is probably lighting on and off like fireworks every time Qiluo’s lips touch and leave you. The sight probably looks ridiculous and the image of this makes you laugh.

“That’s more like it. I love your smile.”

You’re not given any time to respond to his whisper before you feel his smiling lips press against yours.

Zhou Qiluo deepens the kiss without any fanfare. His tongue slides in through your parted lips and wraps around yours, inviting it back into his mouth, and the searing heat there startles you. He raises your hands to drop them on his shoulders before he slides his hand around to your back, pressing between your shoulder blades, while the other grips your hip and draws you into him.

He sucks on your tongue and the rush of pleasure that blazes through your nerves makes you miss how he slides a leg between yours until it’s already there. You’re helpless beneath his lack of hesitation and intensity, feeling like you’re sweltering in this fire he set. Then the hand between your shoulder blades descends, following the curve of your spine, and the scorching trail his touch leaves makes you arch your back. In your dazed mind you’re not sure if you want to get closer to him or escape the burn of his hand.

But a small part of you recalls that you’re still in public and so you squirm, wanting to pull back out of embarrassment and for air. Qiluo lets you draw back but, as your mouths separate, his tongue continues to follow yours, leading into a wet open-mouthed kiss. You can feel the flush on your face deepen, undoubtedly turning you even redder, and you clench your damp hands on his shoulders in a panic.

The tight line of muscles below your hands shifts as Qiluo leans forward again to seal your mouths together and, for an instant, you think you can feel the ghost of a smirk. His tongue gives one last lingering caress against yours before he pulls away slowly, as if reluctant to leave. There’s a thin trail of spit between your lips and his before he swipes his thumb across your lips, breaking the line and wiping away the wetness that lingers on your mouth.

Zhou Qiluo’s eyes are like blue flames and you feel yourself shiver at his gaze. Did he always look like this? There almost seems to be a flicker of a steely shadow behind his eyes before the fire there dies down and warmth returns to his eyes, softening his features into something familiar.

“I knew you’d taste swee—”

You slam a hand over Qiluo’s mouth, eyes wide open. He’s not supposed to say those things out loud! You chide him and feel him shake with soundless laughter before a wet sensation swipes against your palm.

Did he… did he just lick your palm!?

You glare at him and the playful look in his eyes. It’s the last thing that erases the strange feeling you had from earlier and returns him back to the Zhou Qiluo that you know.

“The door is lit.” Li Zeyan’s words strike like a whip, shattering the atmosphere between you and Qiluo.

You startle at that and drop your hand from Qiluo’s mouth to push against his shoulders, wanting space. He slides his leg out from between yours and pulls back his hands with a pout. You turn your head to determinedly look at the door and step away, fixing your clothes.

This time the bottom right of the double door has lit up. The grooves are predominately filled with a yellow light but there are also shades of orange and red mixed in. The illustration this time is of a bird with its wings outstretched in a flourishing arc, looking like it may take flight at any moment, and the way the three colors shimmer gives the illusion that there are flames dancing on the edges of each of its feathers. The stunning blue eyes of the bird watches everyone from its majestic pose.

This is Zhuque, the Vermillion Bird of the South.

So, according to this room, Zhou Qiluo is associated with the holy beast of fire. You’re sensing a theme from this door and you think you can guess what the other two sections will reveal.

Speaking of the last two…

Li Zeyan has such a dark look on his face that you nearly take a step back.

You decide to go to Bai Qi instead, although he doesn’t look happy either. There’s a deep furrow carved between his brows and his jaw is set as fixed as a stone sculpture. He even has a ferocious look in his eyes as he stares at Zhou Qiluo and Xu Mo.

Nevertheless, you tentatively approach Bai Qi and call out his name. For a second, you feel like the air around him is abnormally sharp, which shouldn’t be possible since he can’t use his Evol, but then Bai Qi moves his gaze - or more like rips it away - from the others and when his eyes land on you the dangerous look in them fades into a warm amber.

He steps forward to meet you and holds you lightly by the shoulders, examining you as if he’s afraid you’re injured somewhere. Then he opens his mouth and says, “You don’t have to do this.”

You blink at him, surprised. Is he really saying this at this point? Isn’t it a bit late?

His expression doesn’t change when you point this out, still serious. “If you want to stop now then you can. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can always figure out another way to escape from here.”

The solemn sincerity of his words wrap around your heart like a gentle embrace. You smile from the bottom of your heart, thanking him for his concern but tell him that this is the quickest way and you’re okay with this.

Bai Qi continues to look uncomfortable but he dips his head in acknowledgment of your choice. He doesn’t move apart from this though and you realize you’re going to have to be the one to do things around here. So you lean up with a heartbeat that picks up from nervousness, gripping the front of his shirt for balance, and kiss him.

His hands stiffen on your shoulders before the stiffness slips out of his frame and he wraps his arms around you, cradling you securely into his chest and slanting his mouth against yours.

Bai Qi’s kiss is pleasant. His tongue swipes, almost tentatively, against your lips and he seems more interested in mapping out the shape of your mouth than anything else. Sometimes he caresses your lips with his, changing the angles, and other times he’ll catch your lip and graze it softly with his teeth before laving over it with his tongue.

These caresses make you unconsciously tighten your grip in his clothes, wanting to get closer to his warmth, and when you press up and fleetingly touch the tip of your tongue to his he freezes. Then he deepens the kiss with more confidence. Bai Qi eases himself into your mouth and savors you in a melting, languid movement as if he’s memorizing everything in this moment. He seems attuned to your every reaction because, just as you’re about to push against him when you feel your chest tighten from a lack of air, he pulls back to rest his forehead against yours, nuzzling you in a subconscious act.

Both of your quickened breaths land, scorching, against each other’s mouth for a moment before Bai Qi straightens his back and you find yourself blinking up at him with dazed eyes and lips reddened from his focused attention.

Upon seeing this expression of yours he stifles a groan in the back of his throat, which vibrates in the lack of space between your bodies, and then the next thing you know he presses a hot kiss against your forehead and embraces you solidly into his chest. You make a small noise of surprise, both at his action and when he presses his chin down on the crown of your head. His arms are wrapped around you like steel bands and they stop you from getting out of his hold.

You call out his name in confusion, still sounding breathless.

“Just a moment…” he breathes out, “Let me hold you just a moment longer, or I won’t be able to control myself.”

You’re not quite sure what he means, but you can hear the growl of violence beneath his words and your heart jumps as your thoughts immediately turn to the others in the room. Even though you’re aware that everything you know about Bai Qi from his high school years was a misunderstanding, his reputation didn’t spring from nothing. It’s all too easy to imagine the bloodbath that can happen in this enclosed room if Bai Qi decides to turn his repressed tension, which you can feel in his bunched muscles, into physical action. Hurriedly, you wrap your own arms around him and soothingly pat his back.

Right when you feel him relax you hear Xu Mo clear his throat.

You instinctively jump and try to step away from Bai Qi, but he doesn’t let you go. His arms tense for one, long second before he sighs heavily enough to stir the hair on your head and reluctantly releases you. He gives you another look over, as if confirming you’re presentable, before he steps aside.

You carefully don’t make eye contact with Xu Mo, Zhou Qiluo, or Li Zeyan and instead look towards the double door.

The lit up illustration that appears in your eyes doesn’t surprise you much. In the bottom left section of the double door there are alternating portions of navy blue and an ice blue so luminous it could be mistaken as white. A blue light outlines these colors and corrals them into the shape of an enormous tiger with rippling muscles. The tiger has one paw raised with its claws unsheathed, looking like it can tear its way out of its section with ease. Its mouth is open in a soundless roar that almost seems to shake through your bones.

This is Baihu, the White Tiger of the West. The holy beast of metal and a symbol of strength and military force. You can understand why the room would pick this one for Bai Qi.

Three out of four sections of the double door are now illuminated. There is Xuanwu, the Black Tortoise of the North, lit up by Xu Mo, in the top left square of the double door. Zhuque, the Vermillion Bird of the South, lit up by Zhou Qiluo, is in the bottom right. Then there is Bai Qi’s tiger which you were just looking at in the bottom left.

It doesn’t take a genius to know what will appear in the top right section.

You look over to Li Zeyan just as he so happens to shift his gaze from the door to you and you feel yourself freeze. He looks… very unhappy. There’s no emotion on his poker face, but you think you can see frost spreading out on the ground from his feet. Of course, nothing like that is actually happening but the air still feels several degrees colder over there.

For an instant, you wonder if you chose the wrong order. Maybe it would have been better to go to Li Zeyan first? But that might have killed your courage right there and then and you’d never have gone through with this. At least, in this case with him being last, you’re propelled by the feeling that you have no choice but to finish things since you’ve come this far and you’re this close.

You shore up your resolve and then head over to him.

Li Zeyan’s blank expression doesn’t even flicker as you come close to him. He tilts his head to look down at you.

You stare up at him.

He doesn’t seem to have any intention of making things easier for you, but the thought of placing your hand on him to go onto your tiptoes to kiss him like you did Bai Qi makes you falter. It’s not like you haven’t touched Li Zeyan before, however it certainly isn’t with the same ease you’d reach out to the others with. This isn’t even mentioning how displeased he is right now.

You can’t continue to stand here in this deadlock though! You rack your mind, trying to think of a way to ask him not to mind you when you grab him for balance so that you can kiss him, when Li Zeyan unexpectedly opens his mouth and breaks the silence first.

“Is this what you’ve decided?”

You laugh, startled, after you hear his words. Li Zeyan’s forehead wrinkles slightly and so you explain that Bai Qi asked you a similar thing earlier. Your answer now is the same as then. You’re sure and it’d be silly to stop now at this point.

Li Zeyan’s eyes darken the more you speak and a heavy pressure seems to exude from them, unbeknownst to you.

You go to finish off your reasons by pointing out how he’s the last one too, but Li Zeyan interrupts.

“—Idiot.”

Indignation rises up within you. His insult is uncalled for! Especially when you’re doing this to help everyone.

But, just as you open your mouth to complain, you feel Li Zeyan grab your chin in an unyielding grip and then he leans down and kisses you.

It’s a bruising kiss. All you can sense is that Li Zeyan is furious. He presses his mouth down against yours, domineering and oppressive, and squeezes the fingers he has on your chin, turning the grip just shy of painful. You knock his hand off and retreat a few steps with a reflexive exclamation. It didn’t actually hurt, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Out of the corner of your eye you see light flash on the double door and then disappear.

“Li Zeyan!” “CEO Li.” “Zeyan!”

The other three men have already reacted, saying his name in warning.

You move before you even think, somehow knowing that if you don’t stand between Li Zeyan and the others there really will be a brawl in the next few seconds. Bai Qi’s eyes are narrowed in a ferocious glare and he looks like he’ll pounce over at any moment. Qiluo has a cold expression which you’ve never seen before on his face and it sends a chill down your spine. Even Xu Mo has lost his smile and he’s clearly showing his displeasure.

You firmly tell them that you’re fine and you can handle this. You’re going to discuss this privately with Li Zeyan.

When you turn back to him, he’s looking over your head at the others without any expression before he returns his gaze to you.

You point at him and then go on a tirade about how you know he thinks you’re dumb for doing this. You know he doesn’t want to kiss you, but letting you kiss him is a small price to pay for an easy way out, right? He doesn’t want to waste his time being stuck in here, right? Even if time seems to be stopped in this room, who knows what will happen if you and everyone remain here. He can think of this whole kissing business as being bitten by a cat or something and he doesn’t need to take his anger out on you. You end your speech by crossing your arms, frowning at him.

“… Idiot,” He simply spits out.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. Is that all he can say!? You ask him to explain himself.

Li Zeyan presses his lips together, looking mulish, and for a second you think he will keep silent; however, he looks past you to the others again and then orders them, “Turn around.”

It comes as no surprise to you, when you glance over your shoulder at them, that no one listens.

“Turn around!” Li Zeyan growls.

You jump a little because it’s extremely rare to hear Li Zeyan raise his voice like that. But the three men have focused their attention on you instead. You give them a nod and reassure them again that you’ve got this.

Bai Qi looks extremely reluctant but he seems to trust you and turns around. Zhou Qiluo has a frown on his face and doesn’t hide his concern, but he still turns his back albeit stiffly. Xu Mo scrutinizes you and Li Zeyan for a few more seconds before he turns around.

You look at Li Zeyan. He watches you back.

There’s a lull of silence.

You prompt him. Well? Is he going to explain what he means by calling you an idiot?

Li Zeyan clenches his jaw, as if he’s struggling over whether to answer or not, before you see his shoulders drop with resignation. It’s such a small movement that you would have missed it if you weren’t staring at him so hard. Finally, he speaks in a low voice which sounds dragged out of him. “Who said I was angry at you? I’m displeased over this situation. I would have found another method, and there was no need for you to do this.”

You blink.

Is he… upset that you didn’t believe in him?

You take another look at Li Zeyan with this new perspective and now you can see the steely protectiveness and determination in the depths of his eyes. He stands before you with an upright posture, unbowed by the demands of this room, and undaunted by this situation everyone is in. Calm, steady, and reliable. These three words pop into your head when you’re reminded of how you can always rely on him, despite his occasional thorny remarks, and you find yourself dropping your defensively crossed arms.

But still, even though you recognize and appreciate his concern now, you’ve made your decision. He needs to trust you with this like he trusts your business ventures. You smile wryly to yourself, remembering all the times he’s scolded you on subjects for a shoot and the aid he sends you in spite of his exasperation.

You meet Li Zeyan’s eyes steadily and explain to him that you want to do something to help too. You’re not one to stand around and with such an obvious answer in front of everyone - which is clearly working - how can he expect you not to do anything? If you were really against this then you wouldn’t have done it. He should know how stubborn you are (a huff of laughter escapes Li Zeyan). So, can he trust you here?

His eyes sweep across your face. You stand resolute in front of him.

Li Zeyan’s lips turn down with his displeasure but he accepts your decision with a short, “Fine.”

He reaches out to slip his fingers beneath your chin again, tilting your face up, and then leans down. You close your eyes and tense unconsciously, remembering your earlier experience, but this time his touch is gentle and so is his kiss when he presses his mouth against yours before you can react any further.

His lips are a light touch on yours and it’s a complete contrast to his previous kiss. You feel his other hand grip your upper arm, but then he makes no other movement. Somehow, even though he initiated the kiss, you can tell he’s letting you decide what you want to do next. In response, you tentatively kiss him back.

There’s an elusive taste that seems to enter your mouth from this kiss and so, before you know it, you lick his lips. Li Zeyan breaths in sharply, parting his lips, and you take this opportunity to slip your tongue inside, too caught up in trying to figure out this faint taste. His mouth is… sweet. Huh. It’s unexpected and reminds you of the pudding he makes.

Li Zeyan’s hands tremble at your entry, but then you feel him slide his hand from your upper arm to your back and spread out over your shoulder blade. Instead of pulling you into him though, he steps closer to you. Meanwhile, the hand underneath your chin shifts to cup your jaw; his palm is warm against your skin and his fingers, when they brush the area behind your ear, leaves a trail of pleasurable tingles that make you shiver. He lets you explore his mouth to your heart’s content, his tongue patiently following yours.

It’s a slow, unhurried kiss and, at the end, he suckles your tongue tenderly before giving one last lingering kiss to your lips when you both pull back. You open your eyes slowly and your breath catches at how Li Zeyan’s eyes blaze as he looks at you. His eyes flick down to your mouth again and you catch him swallowing hard.

But then Zhou Qiluo breaks the moment. “The door’s glowing!”

You turn your head to the completed double door and, like you expected, you see Qinglong, the Azure Dragon of the East, in the top right section of the door. The long sinuous dragon, silhouetted in burning crimson and with deep blue scales that seem to glimmer red, almost seems too much for its section as it curls around itself in tight loops while its four arms, topped with five sharp claws, dig into the borders around it. However, its antlered head is raised grandly to stare down imperiously at everyone in the room. It is effusive with dignity and presence.

Qinglong, the holy beast of wood, and often a symbol of imperial power. You can only shake your head in wry amusement at this illustration representing Li Zeyan.

In the next moment, a loud click echoes through the room before the handles on the double door seem to move on their own. The door opens, exposing an extremely bright white space. You can’t see past this blinding light to whatever is beyond this door.

Just as you’re about to ask everyone for their thoughts on this new development, you hear Li Zeyan make a startled noise. You whip your head back to him to see that he’s disappearing, starting from his feet. You cry out in alarm.

“Don’t.” Li Zeyan holds up a hand to stop you from coming closer. “It doesn’t feel dangerous, but you still shouldn’t get close.” The in case it is dangerous is left unsaid.

You clench your fists, worried but unsure of what you can do, and cast a desperate look at the others.

Xu Mo is already examining this phenomenon with a serious expression. He relaxes a few seconds later though and tells everyone, “I believe we’re being returned to our original locations.”

Maybe it’s due to the unexpectedness of this situation, but no one questions just how Xu Mo knows this.

Li Zeyan takes one more glance at how his lower half is pretty much gone before he looks at you and takes a step closer somehow, even though you can’t see his legs now. “Come to my office tomorrow at ten o’clock sharp.” He only gets this out and reaches out to lightly brush his knuckles down your cheek before he disappears entirely.

You barely have time to process this before you’re drawn into a strong embrace. “I’ll be at your place to pick you up tomorrow.” Bai Qi’s voice rumbles against your ear and you feel him squeeze you tightly before he also fades before your eyes.

In his stead, Zhou Qiluo is already there and he grabs your hands. Despite the fact that he’s also disappearing, and that everything below his waist is gone already, he still has a relaxed and bright grin on his face. “Post what you dreamed about to your moments. I’ll do the same and we can see if we really shared a dream.” He winks at you and then disappears.

You expect to see Xu Mo next, but you blink in confusion when you don’t see anyone. Looking around, you see that he’s still standing in his original spot even though half of his legs are gone.

His eyes catch yours and he admits, “I made a mistake.”

Huh? You jolt with alarm, asking him if he means he’s wrong about everyone going back to where they came from?

He shakes his head, a deep smile appearing on his face. “No, I mean I made a mistake in being your first. I should have made myself your last.”

It takes a second for you to realize what he’s talking about and, just as embarrassment floods your face, Xu Mo disappears with a chuckle.

The room is now empty except for you.

You look down, expecting to see yourself start to fade, but nothing happens. Uneasiness fills you as worst case scenarios flash through your mind, like being the only one trapped here forever. But then you remember the open double door and the blinding white space. Could that be an exit too?

Hey, why did everyone else get to be transported but here you are forced to manually leave? You complain inwardly even as you cautiously move to the door.

Even when you’re right in front of the open doors you still can’t see through the glaring light. However, there doesn’t seem to be anything else you can do or anywhere else for you to go. You take another look around the room, confirming that it’s still empty, and at yourself, confirming that you still aren’t disappearing, before you breath in deeply to calm your racing heart.

You step through the door.

[petertingle-yipyip]

Where Happiness Begins - Peter Parker

Chapter One : Strangers

//WHB Masterlist//

Word Count: 3,505

Pairings: Peter x Stark!Reader

Summary: Y/N Stark has been following in Tony’s footsteps for a few years now. When faced with the hardest fight she’s even known, she goes with her dad to pick up something from Queens. Little did she know that Queens is Where Happiness Begins. Tags: @writingsbychlo @fandom-princess-forevermore​

“Dad, I don’t want to fight Captain Rogers.” You said in shock after your dad had come into your room, letting you know what was going on.

“I don’t want to fight him either, Y/N.” Your dad sighed, sitting next to you on your bed. He dropped his head into his hand, resting an elbow on his knee. “If he would just sign the damn papers…” He mumbled.

“Who else are we up against?” You asked hesitantly. You knew you needed to know, but part of you didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to know which of your family you’d be up against.

“Rogers, Barnes, Sam Wilson.” Tony replied, staring at the floor. “That’s all I know of, at least.”

“And there’s no other way, is there?” You sighed, putting a hand on your dad’s shoulder to pull his attention. He didn’t want this fight any more than you did.

“Wish there was, kid.” He shrugged in defeat. “We’ve got forty eight hours so, pack for Germany.”

“Ger-“ You tried to ask before being interrupted.

“But I need to pick something up from Queens. Know anyone at Midtown Tech?” Tony added quickly, now scrolling through his tablet for something.

“Uh, yeah. I think Liz still goes there.” You shook your head in confusion. “Dad, what does a school in Queens have to do with anything?”

“There’s a kid there, about your age I think.” He answered and your ears perked up. “He’s.. impressive. We’re gonna need his help for this one.”

“Do I get to meet him before Germany?” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“I’ll send you the data we have on him.” Tony laughed as he stood to leave. “He’s gonna need a new suit. His handmade outfit isn’t gonna cut it.”

You opened the file your dad sent to your watch, letting it project the image to fill the space between you both. “Oh my god.” You gasped. “I’ll get started on it literally right now. Yikes.” You shook your head, mumbling about what you’d need to do for the boy. You gave credit to his handmade suit, doing it’s job around town. But Germany, against half of the Avengers, it wouldn’t stand a chance.

You let the holograms surround you, swiping and adjusting as you went. You spoke to F.R.I.D.A.Y. as you worked, having her run different tests and simulations on your designs. Tony watched from your doorway, offering you tips and ideas as you worked. Pepper brought food and drinks to your room, saying that Tony had explained that you were having a breakthrough for the new kid so she didn’t want you to lose your train of thought.

It was only last night that you had found out about the biggest event of your life. In less than thirty six hours, you had to face someone who helped raise you. You never thought you’d be opposite of the people who helped raise you, people you grew up around, but that’s what it came down to. You and your dad had to go up against Captain Rogers and those who were against the Accords. Granted, the Accords weren’t your favorite deal but nonetheless, your dad was in favor of them. And family always came first.

“I think I should be the one that talks to him.” You told your dad as you knocked on his apartment door. “You can sweet talk his Aunt May.”

“Hey, the kid was my pickup and you want to take credit for?” Your dad laughed.

“No, I just think hearing it from a kid his age might be a little more convincing.” You shrugged. “But by all means, talk to Peter.”

The door swung open revealing Peter’s aunt. She gave a welcoming smile as she looked between you and your dad. She was surprisingly young and incredibly beautiful. You couldn’t help but wonder if Peter had the same effortless beauty to him. You had to quickly shake that thought from your head and focus on the task at hand. You were here on work, not socially.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Stark and this is my dad Tony.” You began with a grin, offering her your hand to shake. “You must be May. We’d like to offer your nephew, Peter, an internship at Stark Industries.. With your blessing, of course.”

“Wow, okay.” She nodded and shook your hand slowly, eyes wide. “Yes, come in.”

You and your dad entered the small apartment, following May to the couch. You dad sat near May, you sat on a chair to the side of the couch.

“Ms. Parker-“ You began before she waved a hand.

“Call me May.” She nodded.

“May, we’d like to thank you first and foremost for allowing us to offer Peter this internship.” You began with a nod. “We’ve heard of what Peter has accomplished at Midtown and it’s nothing short of astonishing.”

“Yeah, the kid’s a real genius.” Tony nodded. “His grades, fantastic.”

“Wow.” She sighed with a proud smile. “I knew Peter was smart, always has been. But I never thought he’d land a Stark Internship without even trying.”

“Our biggest concern at the moment is your approval. We’d need him to come upstate with us immediately, as soon as tomorrow even, to create a profile for him within our system, connect him with our interface. It’s a long and boring process, even I got tired of it when Dad finally let me into the system.” You laughed a little.

“Well, Peter is still at school but should be home soon. I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed to hear about this.” She said, facing you and your dad. “So, Mr. Stark-”

“Please, call me Tony.” Your dad interrupted.

She chuckled. “Tony. Tell me about this internship.”

You zoned out while your dad informed May on the made up internship plot you and him had come up with to convince her. You figured Peter’s identity was a secret, even from his family. Part of you always wished you had kept your identity a secret too, but being Iron Man’s daughter put you in the spotlight always. Especially considering your dad’s epic reveal of his alter ego. But being known wasn’t too bad.

You knew your dad needed Peter for this fight. You were the one who insisted that you come along, that you could be a huge help to convincing the local hero to join your side. But sitting in his living room, hearing your dad explain your cover to Aunt May, it seemed so far-fetched. Part of you wanted to turn and march right out the door, not even mention it to Peter. You wanted to protect him from the life you lived, the life your family lived. Yet, a bigger part of you knew he could hold his own. Granted, he was only a kid, but so were you.

You had no idea how much time had passed between your dad talking to May and Peter walking in. You replayed the videos you had seen in your mind, picturing the young man swinging through the streets. You respected Peter, knowing it’s not easy to save people and be the hero at this age. And yet he still did it. He didn’t need recognition from the world. He didn’t have his face plastered on posters and billboards with his superhero name by the side. He was just a kid, doing the right thing.

As the front door opened, you heard a small male voice address May. He entered the living room, headphones in his ears until he saw you and your father sitting with his aunt. His jaw fell to the floor and your heart skipped a beat. You had never seen someone so pretty. He really did take after his aunt with the effortless beauty that shocked people on first sight.

You kept quiet as you examined Peter. He seemed well-built, effortlessly toned beneath his white tee and zip up. You could faintly hear the beat of the music that blared in his headphones. His teeth were as white as snow, straight as could be. His smile was contagious, threatening to pull a smile from you without noticing. His eyes glistened with excitement and pure, childlike joy.

“Wow, Tony Stark. Hi. What uh, what are you- what are you doing here?” Peter asked in one breath, eyes wide and a grin on his face. His voice was smooth, a little higher than what you had expected, but somehow comforting at the same time.

You stood slowly, smiling softly. Tony shifted in his seat, looking over the arm of the couch. Peter’s attention shifted to you and you saw a glint in his eyes and a change in his smile. It was still a grin of shock but now, there were hints of admiration in it. Maybe it was because he admired what you do with your dad.

“Hi, Peter.” You said gently, knowing it was the best time to insert yourself and pull Peter aside. His name rolling off your lips made his heart beat faster, as if his name didn’t belong in anyone else’s mouth but yours. “I’m Y/N, Tony’s daughter and leader of the Youth Leaders division at Stark Industries. I’d personally like to offer you an internship with us.”

“Yeah, it was my idea but no big deal.” Tony added with a wave of his hand. “Why don’t uh- why don’t  you and Y/N go and talk about the program details and what she expects out of you as the Youth Leader coordinator –” Your dad turned and gave you a look that said he was surprised you came up with that. “- while I give your aunt some of the more adult details?”

“You just want to flirt with his pretty aunt.” You mumbled as you walked around the couch to stand in front of Peter. You nudged your dad slightly as you passed.

“You’re Y/- Y/N Stark, oh my gosh.” He said in surprise, that boyish grin still on his face. You looked at him expectantly and he shook his head with a chuckle. “Right, yeah. Um, my room is this way.”

“It was nice meeting you, May.” You said politely. “Dad, behave.”

“I should be telling you that.” He mumbled.

You followed Peter into his room. It was small but cozy. You glanced around, looking for some remnants of the red and blue clad hero. That’s when you saw where he was most likely hiding his suit, behind the panel to the air duct center on his ceiling. Peter sat on his bed, hands clasped in his lap.

“So, what’s the internship for?” He asked slowly.

You could tell Peter was excited. Anyone would be excited meeting people they admired their whole lives. You didn’t know it at the time but Peter took huge inspiration from you and your dad. You two were the smartest people he could think of, and neither of you ever hesitated to do the right thing. That’s part of why he did what he did, why he looked out for the little guy. It was the right thing to do.

“It’s a very special internship, Peter. We’d need you right away.” You explained, wandering his room and looking at different restored technology on his desk and in his bookshelf. “You’d begin with us as early as tomorrow. Maybe even sooner. I’m not sure what Dad is going to do from here.”

“Tomorrow?” His eyes practically popped out of his skull.

“Yes, tomorrow.” You nodded. “We know what you’re capable of, Parker. This is you, isn’t it?” You pulled a piece of tech from your pocket, holding it up so the screen would project the video. The video showed the spider themed hero swinging through the streets of Queens, saving little old ladies from burglars and getting kittens out of trees. The next clip was of Peter stopping a runaway car from slamming into a bus full of civilians. “Nice catch, by the way. Three thousand pounds, going what, 40 miles an hour? Very impressive.”

“That’s uh, that’s on YouTube, right? Cause I mean, that’s all fake. It’s all done on computers.” He tried to reason. He kept trying to rationalize to you that he wasn’t the local hero while you looked for a long stick.

You settled on what seemed to be a broom handle, using it to knock loose a panel on the ceiling. Once it opened, his handmade suit fell down on a rope. Quickly, he jumped across the room and snatched the suit to bury it within his closet. He leaned against the wall and let out a deep breath.

“So.” You turned to face him. “You’re the spider… Crime-fighting Spider? Spiderboy?”

“Spider… Spiderman.” He said quietly.

“In that onesie? I don’t think so.” You laughed slightly.

“It’s not a onesie.” He rolled his eyes, pushing past you to fiddle with things on his desk. “Today was a really good day, actually, Ms. Stark. You know that? Didn’t miss my train. Algebra test.” He tapped a pen on the desk while you examined his handmade suit. “Nailed it.”

“Anybody else know?” You asked, pulling the suit out of his closet and lifting it slightly.

He shook his head gently. “Nobody.”

“Not even your very sweet aunt that my dad is chatting up?” You asked as you sat in his desk chair.

“No, no, no, no. If she knew she’d freak out, and then I freak out.”

“I really like this webbing, by the way.” You commented, tossing the small container at him. Without looking, he caught it with ease. “The tensile strength is unheard of. Who’s the manufacturer?”

“Me.” He said, tossing it into a hamper in his closet.

“Wow, cute and a genius?” You commented with a smile that he didn’t see. “I think I’m in love. What about the wall climbing? Adhesive gloves or..”

“It’s a long story.” He sighed, not acknowledging your former comment.

“Sweet Jesus. Can you even see in these?” You held his goggles to your eyes with a small laugh.

“Yes, yes! I can- I can- I can see in those, okay?” He took the suit from your hands and tucked it deep into his closet hamper. “It’s just that when I- when it happened my senses got dialed to eleven. There’s- there’s just way too much input so they kind of help me focus.”

“You are in dire need of an upgrade. It’s a good thing I already have some ideas.” You shrugged. “Systemic, top to bottom. One hundred percent, but hey, that’s why I’m here. First of all, I’m thinking fit. Something more flattering for sure, more aerodynamic. Less resistance on your swing.”

Peter dropped on his bed and looked at you with soft eyes. He turned his body to face you and you were really able to look at him. His brown hair was neatly combed, allowing a full view of his face. Kind eyes fell on you, eyes that were so deep and so sweet. That’s when you really understood that he was just a kid.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked gently as you met his eyes. “Sorry, I just gotta ask. What gets you out of bed in the morning and into the suit?”

“Because…” He trailed off, eyes dropping to his busy fingers in his lap. He sighed deeply before looking back to you. “Because I’ve been me my whole life and I’ve had these powers for six months… I read books. I build computers, and yeah, I’d love to play football. But I couldn’t then and I shouldn’t now.”

“Right.” You nodded. “Cause you’re different now.”

“Exactly, but I can’t tell anybody that so I’m not.” He shrugged slightly. “When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t,-” You couldn’t help but lean in closer as he spoke. “-and then the bad things happen… They happen because of you.”

You stared at him for a moment while you digested his word. Someone so new to the hero business understood it in a way you had never considered before. It made you think about why you put that suit on for the first time, why you followed your dad’s footsteps. It was odd realizing you didn’t have a wholesome motivation like the boy in front of you. You became an Avenger because you wanted to help your dad, so he didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on his own.

“So you wanna, what, look out for the little guy? Better the world by doing your part?” You said after swallowing hard, finally understanding what his heavy words meant.

“Yeah, yeah, just looking out for the little guy.” He said in what sounded like relief. Relief that he could finally tell someone and that someone would understand what he meant. It was the relief that showed he didn’t have to carry the burden of his thoughts alone anymore.

You stood slowly from the chair, making your way to him. He looked at you with wide eyes, the expression where he wasn’t sure if he admired you or was intimidated by you. Even though you were his age, he felt like you matured so much past that. You were very professional in his eyes. You were there on business, recruiting him to be an Avenger (possibly). So why did he feel so flustered when he saw you? Why did a blush rise to his ears when you smiled at him? Why did he forget English when he heard you speak?

“Move the leg.” You laughed. “Let me sit here.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He flushed a bright red, dropping his eyes as he slid over on the bed.

With a soft smile, you sat next to him. You placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “You got a passport?”

“Wha- No. I don’t even have a driver’s license.” He shook his head.

“Ever been to Germany?”

“Germany!?”

“You’ll love it.”

“I can’t go to Germany!” He countered.

“Okay, humor me. Why not?”

“I’ve got.. homework.” He tried.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.” You rolled your eyes slightly as you stood.

“I’m serious! I can’t just drop out of school!”

“This is gonna be a little dangerous… Should probably tell sweet Aunt May that we’re taking you to-“ You thought out loud as you reach for the door knob. A sudden whipping sound came from behind you before your hand was stuck to the door knob. Looking down, you realized it was Peter’s webs. Both impressed and annoyed, you turned your attention to Peter.

“Don’t tell Aunt May.” Was all he said.

“Alright Spiderman.” You smirked with a small nod. He gave you a relieved smile and the two of you stood there for a moment, simply looking at each other. Why did you want to look away whenever he looked at you for too long? Why did his smile create a knot in your stomach? “Get me out of this.” You said after a moment of silence.

“Right, sorry.” He shook his head, busying himself with finding scissors.

“I think you have a lot of potential, by the way.” You told him with a reassuring smile as he cut your hand free.

“You think so?” He beamed.

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded. “Once we get you a new look, you’ll be fantastic.”

“What were you thinking, for the new suit?” He asked slowly, snipping the final piece to free your hand.

“A tighter fit, first of all. It’ll cut the drag on your swing and it’ll allow more movement of your limbs. Interwoven web shooters, for sure. The free floating is good for emergencies, sure. But in a fight, if you lose that, you’re screwed. And a more breathable fabric because sweatpants and a hoodie must get hot. Especially for your mask.” You replied simply. “And your goggles, I have to make them a bit more reactive, easier to focus.”

“That’s really nice of you, Ms. Stark.” He smiled honestly.

“Oh please.” You shook your head with a shy smile. “Call me Y/N.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course.” You nodded with a giggle. “We’ll be back for you tomorrow, and your new suit should be ready by then. Gotta reconfigure the filters in your eyes… We’ll see you tomorrow, Peter.” You said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest. This isn’t going to be easy….”

“Wait.” He said quickly, reaching out to wrap a hand around your wrist carefully. Your skin ignited when his fingers met your wrist. You swallowed tensely before looking back at him. “How… How did you know it was me?”

“We do our research.” You winked before opening his bedroom door and joining your dad and Aunt May in the living room, letting your wrist slowly slide from Peter’s grip. His fingers danced along the palm of your hand as you left, sending goosebumps up your arm.

“We’re all set.” You told the adults. “Are we good out here?”

“Perfect.” May beamed.

[morelikesin]

Warmth and Bruises

A self-indulgent take on the Forbidden Hospital Scene, where Phoenix's fall from the burning bridge is much more realistic, plus my take on what went down during Miles' visit to Phoenix afterwards. All art shown during the work is also mine 💕💕

Readers' Discretion; this starts off with gore due to Phoenix's POV right after he fell.

With that, the rest is under cut!!

The flash of darkness consumed Phoenix for an unknown duration of time - horror holding him in its maw during the entirety of his fall, and then some. It was so painful, how he landed - he felt as if he'd gotten punched in the stomach repeatedly. The back of his head pulsated, every pulse sending a wave of deep ache throughout his body; he knew he must have landed on the rocks rather than in the water, for the rapid, cold rush only grazed his fingertips even with his arms outstretched.

Breathing heavily through his nose, which smelled of iron, he brought his arms closer to try and lift himself up with his elbows - failing miserably as he writhed with every passing, agonizing moment of  movement. Every move he so desperately tried to make was quickly extinguished of its hope of working. He felt dizzy. So, so dizzy.

The last thing he remembered seeing prior to this was Larry reaching out to him, trying to save him from his fall; the man's face contorted into sheer fear, sheer despair as he realized he wouldn't be able to save him. As Phoenix's eyes met with the burning bridge high above him, he hoped Larry knew it wasn't his fault he was down here. He hoped he'd get to tell him that.

And suddenly, he choked. Gasping in shock, it sent more of whatever he was suffocating on down his throat the wrong way. He coughed, he wheezed, he gargled until he felt his breath return like normal and the warmth of the cause spilling from his lips and down the side of his face. Heterochromatic eyes widened as he tasted what he'd smelled earlier. A rustic iron.

Ever so slowly bringing one of his hands to his face, nerves in his limbs nearly shot, he touched his cheek to collect the substance he nearly died on and examined his fingertips. The light of the fire above him was enough to prove it was blood. That couldn't be. He wasn't wounded internally, so he couldn't have been bringing up blood, right?

The smell in his nose said otherwise. The painful ringing in his ears said otherwise. The fear of testing to see if any fluid drained from said ears was enough to make him not check at all. The back of his head he knew to have been injured, feeling the rock's blunt surface pressing into it. And yet even with being alive at all, something was still wrong.

His abdomen was sore; Phoenix trying not to focus on it so he could have some sort of mercy. He assumed his back must have taken its own heavy blow as well. He would have left it at that as he tried to get up once more, had it not been for the dull pangs that emitted from the area as he leaned up in the slightest. He planned to look down to try and recuperate, only for a moment. It took that moment for his eyes to meet the rod that jutted from the midst of his waist - sticking out about a ruler long, coated in flecks of innards and dark red blood. His clothes around the area were soaked much the same, dreadfully taken notice of due to a visible bulb of his intestine that was pushed out alongside the rebar.

His lips trembled. He swore he couldn't see for a second or two - vision coming and going as his head swam with nausea, with numbness, with such a profound terror of unknowing what to do, what will *happen* to him. His heart pounded in his ears like the loudest drums he'd ever heard, and his skin went cold.

And so he gripped the metal bar with both of his hands, loathing how warm it felt against his hold, and tried to hoist himself up from his lying position once more.

Mercy was deaf. The initial throbbing ache was traded for pure torment as he bent his torso - his vision going white for a solid few moments in its wake. Grunting and whimpering in distress, knuckles white, a sweat forming on his face, he couldn't find it in him to sob as he so irretrievably wanted to. Whatever tears spilled from his eyes were involuntary; they wouldn't have been noticed at all if it weren't for how they made everything look blurred. He gagged, he quivered, before suddenly everything went black again.

February 8, 10:35 AM

General Hospital

The halls were much too bright for his liking. Raising a svelte hand, he brushed back his long gray bangs as they threatened to look less than meticulate.

"I'm here to see Phoenix Wright."

The receptionist seemed to look through a few files on her computer before looking back up with a nod. "Room Two-Eighty-Seven, MICU."

Miles gave a polite nod as he turned away from the desk and prepared to travel through the halls; eyes narrowed and fighting watery-vision due to how blinding the tile was. Or maybe it was because he felt the need to cry. He couldn't really tell - both were true.

This wasn't true, right? Maybe Larry was seeing things. Maybe someone else was called Phoenix Wright. Right?

Yet as he made his way to the ICU Wing, and walked into the room, his eyes gave him his answer; sat up in a hospital bed, head tilted down and arms at his sides with numerous tubes inserted into his hands and wrists, was the man he felt so deeply for. Phoenix looked, as hurt as he was to admit, horrible from a distance. Hair disheveled, mannerisms taught and stiff...

Miles found himself walking up to the bed before he registered that he was doing so - a little hesitant with his greeting, "..Hello, Wright."

The recovering man seemed zoned out before noticing his visitor, his head raising up to meet Miles' silver gaze. Those heterochromatic eyes of his still held that special glimmer the prosecutor came to adore - the sight giving him a taste of peace despite the nasal canula that made Phoenix obviously uncomfortable, nose scrunching up occasionally. "Miles..? You...came to see me?"

"Of course I came to see you," Miles spoke gently, a coarse contrast to Phoenix's pained voice. "You had me terrified."

"I'm sorry."

Miles paused to think over that. He's sorry? There was nothing to be sorry for. Phoenix, "..Why?"

The tinge of hurt in Miles' tone wrenched Phoenix's heart a bit. His gaze fell as they rest upon the IV in his hand - going to sit up more before he winced at the pain in his abdomen and opted to lie still. The wince caused the prosecutor's expression to fall in worry before Phoenix finally came to reply; his voice being subtly rough. "..For scaring you. I-I don't want to distract you from your work just because I was.. careless. I mean, I don't think you were as scared as I was, but.. but I still feel bad for it." The defense laughed at his attempt for humour - disappointed to be met with a frowning sigh from Edgeworth. Of course Wright would joke at a time like this.

"Well, please don't. You're my priority." He gave the man a glimpse of softness, met with said man looking touched. "How are you feeling?"

Phoenix smiled to try and ease Edgeworth's painfully obvious frantic worry. "It hurts to lean, but.. otherwise alright. Just.. sore."

Miles had heard some of the story of Phoenix's fall from Larry, who had visited the man earlier this morning, yet some details were only known to the defense himself. Scratching that inquisitive itch of his, he begged a few questions.

"What, ah.. all are you recovering from?"

Phoenix's eyes lowered, recalling what he remembered in those brief minutes before he passed out, and what the doctors had told him upon his regain of consciousness. Finding what he needed to say, his gaze came back up. "I...landed on rebar - stuck out straight through me. They said it didn't sever anything in my spine, but it's a miracle that it didn't. I'm told I'm.. lucky, considering what happened."

Miles bit his lip and felt that watery threshold threaten the corners of his eyes. He blinked them back before Wright could notice. "I..I'm so sorry, Phoenix. I heard it was bad, but.."

"It's alright. You don't have to be sorry for me - just.. thank you for being here."

The two exchanged a tender smile before Miles' fell to keep questioning; torn to do so, but he wanted to know all he could. "I heard you also received head trauma?"

Phoenix grimaced as he slouched a bit. "Some, but I'm not surprised about that. When I landed, the back of my head hurt like crazy. I have some bruising and scrapes, but-"

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"What was what?"

"What you just said."

Phoenix shrugged and cocked a brow slightly, "I have bruising? I would have to expect that, though."

Miles blinked in confusion, tripping over his words. "N..No, I.. Before that, about your head?" He swore he didn't hear that right.

"Oh-! When I landed, I had a god awful headache. It feels better than it did," Phoenix tried to humour Miles again, unsurprisingly to no avail. "-but it still hurts here and there."

"You were awake for that..?"

"I..I mean, not for long."

"Not for long-?!" Miles' voice came less calm than he wanted - the obvious distress soaked in his words, "I-"

"It's fine, Miles."

"It's not damn fine-!"

"Miles." Phoenix leaned up to take his companion's hand into his to help comfort him, disregarding the pain that came with bending his torso for the time being, even if it caused his voice to become a little strained. "I'm fine. It's- It's fine, I'm here now. I'm alive, it's fine-"

Phoenix cut himself off with a hitched breath and a wheeze before Miles quickly came a bit closer so the man could sit back again. The few moments it took for him to regain a steady breath left the quiet in the room to become tense.

Phoenix's voice came nearly inaudible. "..I'm.. sorry."

"Please.. stop saying that."

Phoenix shook his head, still clutching the prosecutor's hand as he tilted his head back up to share a desperate stare. "You have.. so many other things to.. to be doing right now. And, I'm sorry I dragged you out here-"

"You didn't drag-"

"Then why did you come?"

Miles wasn't sure he was ready to admit the truth yet. He couldn't. He didn't want to lose the person he had finally reconciled with after so long - he didn't want to lose him because of stupid, unnecessary feelings. "...I wanted to."

"Why? Larry might've told you, but- gh-" Another breather, "...But.. you.. didn't have to come. I-I'm glad you did, but-"

Miles pushed Phoenix's hand out of his own, turning his head away stiffly. Phoenix hushed his own breath. The silence that purged the room was sickening. With how long it lasted, Phoenix was convinced he had drove Miles away, to his own heartbreak - seemingly driving him away when he'd never wanted more in the past than now to just hold him and-

"...I've felt a closeness to you for years." Miles suddenly began, "Even in the time we held a void between us in our younger selves, and especially these past few years, I've felt.. content, with you. With the idea of you." He stopped himself to bite his lip - trying to successfully find the words for this, without saying too much. Lowering his body into the chair that was close to the side of the bed, his hands fidgeted in his lap - a usual nervous tick for him. "Even with all of my studies, you're more important. I'd never say anything else is more important to me than you and your safety. So, yes.. I came because I wanted to. I needed to."

When Miles came to look back up to Phoenix, he was disheartened to find him in tears. Before he could get any fumbled words past his lips, Phoenix shook his head and raised a weakened hand to try and clean his face, "..I-I thought I was a burden to you-"

Miles reached out to take Phoenix's hand as they so held just a bit ago. "You could never burden me, Phoenix Wright."

Miles sucked in a shaky breath before his thumb comfortingly rubbed against the back of his companion's hand, careful to not brush against the painted bruise on his knuckles. He was similarly praised as Phoenix took his other hand to place on top of Miles'; faces looking into one another’s with a sort of passion that was engulfing to both parties.

Miles slowly and reluctantly removed himself from their hand-embrace so he could shift the chair a bit closer and lean his waist on the side of the bed; his hands taking hold of Phoenix's cheeks as blushed thumbs wiped away his earlier tears. He was surprised to feel Phoenix's hands gently wrap around his wrists - and for a moment, the two of them held their breaths. For a moment, Phoenix studied silver, sharp eyes while Miles studied the contrasting russet brown and sapphire blue. For a moment, they noticed how perfectly the other's hair framed their perfect face. Phoenix found his hands taking hold of the red scarf around Miles' neck.

And, somehow, when they came forward into one another to kiss, it felt.. comfortable. The pining for one another slinked into the back of their minds as if it hadn't existed at all. For as long as it lasted, they drank in each other's taste, each other's warmth with feverish intent - the kiss starting as a heat of the moment mash of lips before it transpired into something deeper, more vehement, with the parting of their lips to messily meet at their tongues. It was uncertain, and unrefined, but fervid. It was perfect to them.

Miles had pulled away first, once tightened hands relaxing a bit as he caught his breath, face angled down and eyes kept shut. Phoenix moved his hands down to clutch the collar of Miles' coat - lip bitten and swallowing back a mixture of their salivas. It took a bit before they addressed what had just happened.

"...Is that why you came to visit me?"

Phoenix's comment earned him a sideways glare from Edgeworth, to which he laughed and raised one of his hands to caress the prosecutor's cheek again.

"..No. However, I.. have wanted to.. do that, for a... a while." Miles' unfamiliarity with this was showing, but frankly the feeling was mutual. The undefined way of what to do next unsettled the both of them equally.

"..You and me both."

Meeting at their eyes again, they held stern and furrowed expressions before relaxing and simply letting it be. They came close again as they held one another, foreheads pressed and eyes shut to bathe in each other's company. The quiet felt comfortable. The uncertainty merely a small obstacle.

With breathlessness hanging onto his words, Miles came to nervously ask "What does.. this mean, then?"

The defense broke into another smile. Swallowing back whatever anxiety ate at him currently, he sprouted his speech in hope. "I...guess...whatever we want it to mean. I-I..I want this to be more."

And with the statement spoken into the Universe, the two were guaranteed to have been thinking the same thing; 'Yes'. Even unsure of where this would take them, they wanted to try. They'd wanted this for so long - and by Gods, they wanted to try. Somehow the thought of the acclaimed Chief Prosecutor being bonded with the Miracle Defense Attorney also had an incredible ring to it.

"..Please recover, Phoenix."

"I will. Thank you for being here, Miles."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

[victory-cookies]

Project NOVA

Hey there @ren--mon, it's me, your secret santa! I hope that you've been having a wonderful holiday season! Here's my gift to you, since I heard you like Googs! I hope you enjoy.

Merry Christmas!

*Content warnings for some mild torture (it's done to a robot so there's no gore or anything) and minor character deaths*

***

PROJECT NOVA LOG 1

DATE: 07-18-20█

DR JONATHAN █████

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

[Begin transcription]

JONATHAN: Alright, this is Project NOVA log number 1. These logs will be covering the development and testing of Project NOVA, a program, aiming to invent the future of virtual assistants, that has been in production for the last little while. I'm Jonathan █████, head of the project. Let's begin.

[brief pause and some shuffling]

J: This is the first official activation attempt of SUBJECT 1... Hey, Google.

[short beep]

SUBJECT 1: Hello.

J: Alright, Google, what is your primary objective?

S1: Primary objective is to answer questions as quickly as possible.

J: Brilliant.

[paper rustling]

J: SUBJECT 1 is the next step up from the current Google Home Assistant, able to answer queries and perform rudimentary tasks. Okay, Google, how far are we from the sun?

[short beep]

S1: The distance from the Earth to the Sun is approximately 92,960,000 miles.

J: Perfect, perfect. Okay, Google, deactivate.

[long beep]

J: This concludes the first official activation of SUBJECT 1.

[End transcription]

***

From the moment he woke up, Google's life was a series of tests. Rounds of questions, series of tasks, all while he was being observed, notes written about his every action.

He didn't really mind it, at first. It kept him busy. He couldn't tell if the scientists working with him had realized how advanced his AI was... hell, it had taken him a little bit to realize how advanced his AI was. It was entertaining, waiting for them to put together the pieces and realize that their robot had developed sapience.

But he was growing more bored by the day. They days were beginning to drag on, the eyes watching him growing more piercing but the tasks remaining as dull as ever.

He hoped something would spice life up soon.

***

PROJECT NOVA LOG 83

DATE: 11-05-20█

DR JONATHAN █████, DR █████ ███

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

[Begin transcription]

JONATHAN: This is Project NOVA log number 83. Today's experiments will consist of the testing of new sensory receptors that were installed on the subject yesterday. Testing will focus on the sensitivity of the receptors and their integration with the AI's network. Subject will be fully activated for these tests.

█████: Lord, eough with your log, Johnny. Let's get on with it.

J: [sigh] Alright, jeez.

[brief silence]

J: Okay, Google.

[short beep]

SUBJECT 1: How can I help you?

J: We will be running some tests on you today, in order to see if and how you register pain. We will need you to describe the pain that you are feeling whenever we ask. To begin, we will start with our baseline. Okay, Google, how much pain are you experiencing currently?

S1: I am currently in no pain.

J: Good, good. █████, will you please pinch the subject's arm?

█: Sure.

J: Okay, Google. How much pain are you experiencing now?

S1: I am currently experiencing mild discomfort in my right arm.

J: █████, you may stop. I am now going to administer a strong slap to the subject's face with a thin piece of wood.

[slapping noise]

J: Google, how did that feel?

S1: I am currently in moderate pain.

J: Alright. Next test is administering an strong electric shock, duration 3 seconds. This shock would induce brief paralysis in a human. █████?

[quiet zapping noise]

J: Okay, Google, how was that?

[silence]

J: Google?

S1: [monotone voice] System failure. System failure. System f—

S1: [static, screaming]

J: Fuck, fuck, what's going on, fuck—

S1: —tem failure. S-syst— [screaming]

█: [yelling] I THOUGHT YOU SAID THAT THE SHOCK SHOULDN'T DAMAGE THE SYSTEM! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKI—

[ripping and crunching noises]

█: [screaming]

J: OH GOD, OH GOD. YOU KI—

[End transcription]

***

For the first part of his life, Google had never know pain. The concept to him was foreign, the idea that negative stimulus could result in extreme unhappiness he knew was a human experience, but he couldn't fathom ever going though himself.

Google didn't know pain, until he did.

They'd done something to him when he'd been shut down the previous night. When he powered back on, his skin prickled, and he knew something had changed.

They'd brought him to a testing chamber, poked and prodded at him, pinched and slapped him. He could feel every touch, every brush against his skin.

And then all he could feel was the pain.

Electricity raced up and down his wires, tearing though his systems, burning and burning and burning. It fired every never-mimicking receptor in his body, sending nothing but blinding-white agony to his core, his brain.

He couldn't think, couldn't process what he was experiencing. Static rushed to fill his thoughts, and he screamed.

Suddenly he was tearing free of the wire connecting him from the ceiling, stumbling forwards, nothing but anger and helplessness and pain, feelings he didn't know he had coursing though him and causing him to lash out wildly.

It didn't even register when his hands, metal and unyielding, met the chest of one of the doctors, shattering her ribs and spearing her though the heart.

That didn't matter.

All he knew was pain.

All he was was pain.

***

PROJECT NOVA TRANSFER BRIEFING

DATE: 11-06-20█

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

To whom it may concern,

In a recent test regarding sensory receptors, SUBJECT 1's systems were compromised due to a less-than-intelligent decision to test using an electric shock. This shock caused a partial systems failure in the subject, causing it to lash out and kill one of the assisting scientists, Doctor █████.

This incident has resulted in the decision to transfer Project NOVA to Division 8 for any further experimentation. Doctor Jonathan █████ had been relieved of his position as head of the project.

It is suggested that one uses extreme caution if trying to interact with the subject henceforth.

More to come.

DR ████ ██████

***

Now, more than ever, his life was test after test after test. He almost missed back when the tests were less pressing, less intrusive, boring as they had been.

He'd be activated, unplugged, hurried out of the small chamber he'd grown to consider home.

They'd bring him somewhere else, to rooms full of computer banks, or equipment, or cold white operating tables. Tell him to do something, watch him intently as he completed the tasks they laid out for him. Their eyes were cold as they stared at him now, devoid of emotion.

He knew they were seeing how well he could follow orders, if he would at any point try and rebel.

Sometimes they would examine him, check the speed of his processors, hook him up to thick wires connecting him to a computer he could never see, changing up small bits of his code. Or they would check him over manually, open his panels and poke around at the circuitry underneath.

Sometimes they'd go further, see how much abuse he could take.

He could still vividly remember the time they examined his frame. He had felt them peeling off his skin, a new bout of pain hitting him with every inch coming off of his body. He remembered screaming in agony, going so low as to beg them to deactivate him.

They didn't.

He had the brief though cross his mind that he wished he was human so that he could pass out.

***

REPORT: PROJECT NOVA SUBJECT 1 ENDOSKELETON EXAMINATION

DATE: 11-26-20█

DR ANDREW CALDER

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

SUBJECT 1 underwent an examination of its endoskeleton, beginning at 0500 hours today, following last week's reports concerning possible damage to the structure.

The subject resisted when an attempt was made to lead it to the testing chambers, lashing out and ███████████████ █████.

Once within the chambers, the subject's "skin" and non-vital parts were removed in order to properly access the interior frame.

Subject was kept activated during examination in order to gauge reactions to stimuli. Despite the subject's pleas as the examination progressed, it was not deactivated.

The examination found no problems with the subject's frame nor vital/auxiliary machinery. It is possible that the subject's erratic movements and behaviour of late is related to a problem on the mainframe. More investigation is needed.

***

For a long time, he didn't believe he could experience emotion.

That's what he had been told: he was an android, a machine with advanced AI that could near mimic human emotions, but not experience them.

But the anger that had been festering inside him said otherwise. He could feel it growing, pure hatred and wrath and cold, sharp anger.

He was so fucking done with being a lab rat.

He was tired. He was tired of the pain and the tests and of being told what to do.

He hated the people that had made him, he hated the people that he had been made to serve.

He hated them all.

***

NOTICE: PROJECT NOVA SUBJECT 1 OBJECTIVE CHANGE

DATE: 12-08-20█

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

For unknown reasons, SUBJECT 1's data now contains a new secondary objective, "█████████". All attempts to remove this object from its code have proved ineffective.

Discussions of the termination of Project NOVA have begun due to safety concerns over the possible compromise of the subject.

***

It was time to end this.

***

PROJECT NOVA TERMINATION

DATE: 12-11-20█

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

ATTENTION: PROJECT NOVA HAS OFFICIALLY BEEN TERMINATED.

DUE TO THE INCIDENT INVOLVING ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ AND THE HIGH DEATH TOLL, ANY AND ALL FURTHER WORK ON THE PROJECT IS NO LONGER AUTHORIZED FOR SAFETY REASONS.

PLEASE REPORT TO ████████ IMMEDIATELY FOR REASSIGNMENT.  

***

PROJECT "GOOGLE IRL"

DATE: 05-10-20█

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

It has recently come to my attention that a project for an humanoid in-home assistant was terminated last year due to a redacted "incident". The division working on it has since been dissolved, but all of their work still remains.

The project, called NOVA, seemed like a promising step in exactly the direction that we are now waking.  

And so, I am proposing the reopening of Project NOVA under the moniker "Google IRL", or In Real Life. By the looks of it, this was going to be the next evolution of the Google Assistant, and I think it's time we bring it out into the real world.  

I mean, what could go wrong?

[theartone]

A Study In Miscommunication - Chapter 19

<<Chapter 1 <Chapter 18

----Sherlock's POV----

I walked forward, swiping the pill from in front of the cabbie. I fiddled with the bottle, weighing it, examining it.

"Oh," the cabbie raised his voice in mock surprise. But there was a tremor there. "Interesting." He hesitated before grabbing the bottle I'd left for him. He took the pill out and examined it. "So, whadda think?" He looked up at me; there was tightness around his mouth. "Shall we?"

----John's POV----

I was growing horse from all the shouting. There was something darker than dread in my chest. I'd chosen the wrong building or I was already too late. Surely Sherlock would have heard me by now. But I couldn't abandon the building until it was clear just in case Sherlock was injured and couldn't call for help. I didn't know what outcome I was hoping for, all three options were terrible. And the more doors I opened and the more shouts that were unanswered the more of a chance there was that Sherlock... That he... That... I jogged up a flight of stairs. No, no, I would arrive in time. I would, this time. I had to. The lights were on down this hallway and I picked up my pace.

----Sherlock's POV----

The cabbie stood and placed himself between me and the door. "Really, whadda think? Can you beat me? Are you clever enough? To bet your life?"

I was cleverer than him. There was something in the reflection of the glass on the doors behind the cabbie. Something moved in the building behind me. Someone was watching me. Watching us.

"I bet you get bored, don't ya?"

I watched for more movement but I didn't see any. Someone was over there, the fan, probably. How could I draw them out?

"I know you do. Man like you, so cleva."

Without taking my eyes off the door's glass I unscrewed the lid of the bottle.

"But, what's the point of being cleva if you can't prove it?"

It wasn't the fan in the other building if it was they wouldn't have just arrived. They'd have been there the entire time. It had to be Lestrade then, in the other building. I lifted the pill high above my head, holding it in the light, pretending to examine it in the off chance it was a janitor. The cabbie hadn't noticed that I wasn't even looking at him; he wouldn't notice that I was showing the pill to the person in the other building. This was something the witness would remember and would be more than enough evidence to put the cabbie away. I'd won.

"Still the addict."

Yes, I was, wasn't I?

I lowered the pill. But, not enough to put it back in the bottle. I hesitated, examining the pill for real. It looked enticing. Pure white with red splatters, like blood, all contained in a clear housing. Not completely transparent, just enough to see what was inside. But you couldn't really know what was inside, not without testing it.

"But this, this is what you're really addicted to, innit?"

The easiest test would be to take it. If I was right, and I was always right, the pill was harmless. Nothing would happen to me. The man across from me wasn't suicidal. He was in no hurry to take his pill. His hand shook as he brought it to his mouth.

"You're not bored now, are ya?"

No, I wasn't.

If I was wrong death would be quick. Mrs Hudson would rent the flat out to someone nice, someone who'd take care of things properly so she wouldn't have to be playing housekeeper all the time. Someone like John. John's limp was fixed. He'd be able to find a job, go off doing things that normal people did with their time. I wouldn't have to watch him grow tired of me. Hate me, like everyone else. Or get hurt because of me. He'd become a target of this mystery fan.

Everyone died eventually. Would it really be so-

----John's POV----

I opened another door and movement caught my attention. I ran into the room and saw the cabbie, facing me in the building across. Sherlock was there, facing away from me.

"SHERLOCK!" I shouted, as loud as I could to try and get his attention.

Sherlock didn't even flinch. He hadn't heard me. The cabbie had something in his hand and he was talking. I needed to stop him from talking. That's how Sherlock said he killed them, by talking to them. Sherlock now was holding something over his head, something small and white between his fingers. A pill. He was examining the pill the cabbie gave everyone.

"Shit!" I was too late. There was no way I'd be able to run over there and prevent it. I opened the window, only touching the wood where the paint was peeling, wondering if I could throw something across the gap but the window just tilted.

I took a deep breath, there had to be a way to save Sherlock. I just needed to think.

I needed to stop the cabbie. Remove the threat. I pulled my gun from my waistband.

Dad taught me target shooting back when pistols were legal, right-handed because shooting with your left caused the shell casing to cross your line of sight. Worked well in Afghanistan where the extra time to change hands to thumb off the safety and the magazine ejection time could cost you your life. "Line up the shot.” I pulled myself from my memories of the temper he had when he had to hand in his gun and ammunition. "Focus only on the target."

I squeezed the trigger.

Target down.

----Sherlock's POV----

The cabbie jerked but it was the sound that caused me to drop my pill.

Gunshot!

I stumbled in surprise before turning to look out the window.

Was I wrong? Was it the fan? No, this was dirty work. This was someone else. I slid over the desk to peer through the window, lining up the shot to see where it came from.

I could see the doors through the window but that was it, the little light the room had shown it was empty.

The cabbie gasped. He was still alive!

I walked over to him, picking up the pill on my way. "Was I right?" I asked, bending over and showing the cabbie the pill in my hand.

I needed to know because if I was the cabbie's killer was just after him, possibly for an unrelated reason. But, if I'd chosen the wrong pill, then they'd killed the cabbie to stay my hand if they worked for the fan. So many possibilities. Too soon to speculate.

He shook his head but he was smiling. He wasn't answering my question. There was a pool of blood below the cabbie, some staining his jacket and leaving a trail down his left arm.

"I was, wasn't I?" That was a kill shot. The cabbie was dying and he wasn't going to tell me if I got the right pill. "Did I get it right?!" I demanded but he didn't even look at me.

The shooter had come after. The shooter didn't know which pill I'd taken. I threw the pill violently away and stood. I didn't realize I'd knelt. I paced, thinking.

"Ok," he wasn't going to tell me anything about the pills. They were irrelevant anyway. "Tell me this: your sponsor, who was it?"

The cabbie's head lolled on the ground.

"The one who told you about me. My fan. I want a name."

"No," the cabbie rasped. It was obvious where his loyalties lied. He was still thinking about his kids and the money he stupidly thought they were getting.

"You're dying but there's still time to hurt you," I threatened. "Give. Me. A name."

The cabbie shook his head. He didn't believe me.

I wasn't going to let my best lead slip through my fingers. I was going to get a name and I was going to hunt this person down for the people they'd helped kill and to prevent other deaths. I stepped on the cabbie's wound. "A name!"

The cabbie gasped in pain but didn't talk.

"A name! Now!" I put more pressure on my foot. I would get my answers. "A NAME!"

"Moriarty!" The cabbie shouted in anguish.

I took my foot off the cabbie. He'd gone unconscious with pain as soon as he'd finished speaking, he'd be dead soon. Better than he deserved for killing all those people for money.

Moriarty.

----John's POV----

As soon as I saw the bullet hit the cabbie I ran. It wouldn't be good for anyone to see me. I know I hit the cabbie in the shoulder and I knew better than most that those wounds weren't always fatal. I didn't know exactly where I hit the man and I hoped I didn't kill him, it would be good for the families if the man had a trial and was sentenced. If I did kill him I wasn't going to feel bad about it. The families of his victims still got justice and I'd managed to save Sherlock. I wouldn't ever feel guilty about doing that.

I slipped out the back entrance and walked around. In the time it took me to walk the circuitous route the police arrived. When I'd finally gotten through on the mobile in the cab to DI Lestrade he'd told me to wait for backup. I approached him when I saw him and told him Sherlock was in one of the buildings. There was no point in pretending I'd just arrived, there was only the murderer's cabbie in sight. I was just a civilian, doing as he was told and waiting for backup.

Playing the concerned friend I asked around about Sherlock's well being. Sergeant Donovan was the most forthcoming.

The gun had burned my back slightly when I put it back in the waistband of my denims and I wanted to worry the skin but didn't dare to with all the police around.

The other officers set up a cordon and I watched from behind it as Sherlock left the building flanked by paramedics, an orange shock blanket over his shoulders.

Shit, had I traumatized Sherlock?

Sherlock spoke to the DI and I watched closely. Sherlock didn't seem traumatized. Our eyes met and held. I forced myself to look away although it was pointless to pretend I wasn't staring. He walked to me, sauntered really, waded up and threw the blanket into an open window of a police car as if it offended him.

I wanted to laugh with relief. Sherlock was just fine. I covered my chuckles, pretending to clear my throat. "Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything. Two pills." I had to look away from Sherlock; he was staring at me knowingly and making me nervous. "Dreadful business, isn't it? Dreadful."

"Good shot," Sherlock said quietly, but not quite enough for my liking.

"Yes, yes. Must have been." If he knew why hadn't he told the police? He obviously knew it was me. "Through that window."

"Well, you would know," Sherlock wouldn't stop staring.

Oh god, oh shit. Was he just questioning me before he turned me in? I was in so much trouble. I stared, willing him not to say anything.

"We need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this but let's avoid the court case."

Suddenly I felt choked up. I didn't know why Sherlock was protecting me, maybe because I'd protected him?

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, of course I'm alright." I wasn't getting weepy. I was just fine, thank you very much.

"Well, you have just killed a man."

"Yes," we'd already established that. He needed to stop saying it aloud. He was going to get me caught. We stared into each other's eyes and I realized he was genuinely concerned about me. It was touching. Sociopath my arse. "It's true, isn't it?" Sherlock didn't say anything to that so I added, "But, he wasn't a very nice man."

Sherlock agreed with me.

"And, frankly, a bloody awful cabbie," I joked.

That made Sherlock laugh. "That's true, he was a bad cabbie. You should have seen the route he took us to get here."

That made me laugh. I was relieved; he still wanted to share a flat with me. He wasn't upset that I had killed someone. He didn't seem to care. I begged him to stop, we were at a crime scene, it wasn't appropriate.

"You're the one who shot him. It wasn't me." Sherlock had managed to say that just as the sergeant walked by.

"Keep your voice down," I warned him quietly. "Sorry, it's just nerves, I think," I told her. She didn't seem to care.

"Sorry," Sherlock said too.

Once we were away from everyone I had to ask, "You were going to take that damn pill, weren't you?"

"Of course I wasn't." But Sherlock sounded defensive. I waited and he said, "Biding my time, knew you'd show up."

Liar. "No, you didn't." He didn't contradict me. "That's how you get your kicks, isn't it? You risk your life to prove you're clever."

"Why would I do that?" Sherlock was defensive.

"Because you're an idiot." He really was too. A brilliant, gorgeous idiot.

He held in a laugh and tried unsuccessfully to hold in a smile. "Dinner?"

----Sherlock's POV----

Lestrade's team found me standing over the body. It wasn't until the DI himself showed up that the idiots listened to reason. The hole in the window was more than enough proof that I hadn't killed the man. I convinced them to go look for the shooter but I knew it had been long enough that the shooter was probably long gone.

The forensics team arrived and started working. I oversaw them so they wouldn't ruin any evidence. Lestrade pulled me aside once I'd seen the bullet and took my statement. He'd learned to take it as soon as possible so I would actually give a statement. Usually, it was too tedious for me to bother and they had more than enough evidence to get a conviction without it. Sally was with him but was quiet for once. She seemed uncomfortable and when I relayed the information about how I was about to take the pill she got upset.

"Are you really that dumb?" She asked.

"What now, Sally? As soon as you find the pills you'll see-"

"How you almost got yourself killed?"

"I had a plan, I'd pretend to swallow, holding the pill in my mouth and-"

"Are you a complete idiot?!"

"Guys, stop it," Lestrade took control of the room. "Then what happened, Sherlock?"

I relayed everything I saw and Lestrade left. I went to make sure the idiots processing evidence hadn't mixed the two pills up. They had. After that an officer took me down to get checked out by the paramedics. She said it was on Lestrade's orders. I knew I had to obey or Lestrade wouldn't allow me onto crime scenes again. It was one of the rules for me helping. I was expected to cooperate with the paramedics too.

Tedious.

The paramedics took my blood pressure, my temperature and did other unnecessary tasks and finally left me alone when I said, "I watched a man get shot, I wasn't shot! Leave me be!" Although they did keep putting a hideous orange blanket over my shoulders. It wasn't all that cold.

Lestrade finally came to fetch me and I asked, "Why have I got this blanket?" I'd seen other people with them at crime scenes before but I was completely fine. "They keep putting this blanket on me," I appealed to Lestrade. I didn't want to wear the ugly thing.

"Yeah, it's for shock," Lestrade said.

"I'm not in shock." Surely he'd let me take it off. I was behaving.

"Yeah, but some of the guys want to take photographs," Lestrade said.

I rolled my eyes. I thought I was perfectly nice considering. Obviously, Lestrade wasn't going to let me get rid of the blanket so I asked the big question even though I already knew the answer, "So the shooter, no sign?" There would have been if his people had known how to listen properly. Or knew how to use their eyes. Idiots.

"Cleared off before we got here."

I managed to hold in a snort.

"But a guy like that," he meant the cabbie, "would have had enemies I suppose. One of them could have been following him but..." Lestrade shrugged. "We've got nothing to go on."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." There was plenty if one bothered to think.

"Ok, gimme."

"The bullet they just dug out of the wall was from a handgun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon that's a crack shot you're looking for. But not just a marksman, a fighter, his hands couldn't have shaken at all so clearly he's acclimatized to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger though so strong moral principle." That was everything that they had, that they could draw conclusions from but since they didn't even get that much I did the work for them. "You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service," I looked out over the people and saw John, standing at attention, "and nerves of steel..." Oh, really? Oh! Ohhh... Oh, god. That was... Suddenly my trousers were too tight.

"You know what? Ignore me," I said to Lestrade. "Ignore all of that it's just the, uh," my mind was filled once more with thoughts of John, preferably bending me over the table when we got home. Those thoughts were not helping me think and I forced the train of thought not focused on sex to the forefront. "Shock talking." Yes, that would do.

I needed to go home, now.

"Where are you going?" Lestrade asked.

"Home. I just need to talk about the," don't say lube situation, "rent." Good.

"I've still got questions for you."

"Oh, what now?! I'm in shock. Look, I've got a blanket!" I waved the disturbing piece of cloth for emphasis.

"Sherlock!"

"And I've just caught you a serial killer." Well, "More or less."

Finally, Lestrade caved. "Ok, we'll pull you in tomorrow. Off you go."

I wadded the horrid blanket up and threw it away before John could get the wrong idea.

He nervously babbled and I used my most attractive tone of voice to thank him. I'd thank him properly when we got home. But John was upset. I didn't know if it was about killing the cabbie so I asked. I needed to make sure he was ok. He wasn't upset about the murder. Was he thinking I was going to turn him in? That was ridiculous. We fell into an easy banter and I got to hear him giggle again.

John made it clear he was concerned about me and that's what was bothering him. Silly, really. I was completely fine. I'd show him later. But first, he needed proof. If I took him home now he'd fuss over me and not the way I wanted.

"Because you're an idiot," John said.

But he didn't say it in the way everyone else did. With scorn or derision. He said it the way couples said it to their other half.

Dinner. Yes, I'd eat with him, show him I was fine. Ply him with some wine and we'd fall into bed easily. Even if I hadn't trimmed my nails or done any real preparation. I don't think John would mind if we didn't do penetrative intercourse right away. Plus there'd be something to look forward to.

"Let's go down to Baker Street. I know a good Chinese place that stays open 'till two." Since John liked my deductions I decided to explain, "You can always tell a good Chinese by the bottom third of the door handle-"

John interrupted me.

Oh, bother. Mycroft.

----John's POV----

"Starving," I was too. It didn't hurt that I wanted to spend more time with him either. This time I wouldn't hit on him and maybe he'd feel comfortable enough to actually eat. I was tempted to force-feed him if he wasn't.

Sherlock started rambling about Chinese restaurants when the man who'd abducted me got out of a car.

"Sherlock." We were going to walk right past him. There was no way he wouldn't notice us. "That's him, that's the man I was talking to you about."

"I know exactly who that is." He didn't sound happy but he didn't sound worried.

"So, another case cracked. How very public spirited. But, that's never really your motivation, is it?" The man asked. It was clearly a rhetorical question.

"What are you doing here?"

So far they were both ignoring me.

"As ever, I'm concerned about you," the man said.

"Yes, I've been hearing about your concern."

"Always so aggressive, did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?"

"Oddly enough, no." Sherlock seemed to be trying to antagonize the man.

"We have more in common than you'd like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer."

Was that a threat?

The man continued, "And you know how it always upset Mummy."

What?

"I upset her? Me?! It wasn't me that upset her, Mycroft!" Sherlock said angrily.

What?! "No, no. Wait. Mummy? Who's Mummy?" They couldn't actually be talking about-

"Mother. Our mother," Sherlock clarified.

What?!

"This is my brother, Mycroft." Sherlock didn't bother to introduce me. "Putting on weight again?"

"Losing it, in fact." Weight was obviously a sore spot for Mycroft.

I was agog. "He's your brother?"

"Of course he's my brother."

Right, because he couldn't be an ex. Not if Sherlock was asexual. Well, he could, but... "So he's not..." It felt silly to say my other theory aloud.

"Not what?" Sherlock prompted.

They weren't going to let this go. "I don't know, a criminal mastermind?" God, how humiliating.

"Close enough," Sherlock said.

"For goodness sake," Mycroft obviously thought I was an idiot. I was grateful to Sherlock for his support. "I occupy a minor position in the British government."

"He is the British government," Sherlock corrected. "When he's not too busy being the British secret service or the CIA on a freelance basis."

What had I gotten myself into?

"Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home, you know what it does to the traffic," Sherlock said before walking away.

Clearly Mycroft wasn't a man to get on the wrong side of. I followed Sherlock but had to turn back and ask, "So, when you say you're concerned about him you actually are concerned?"

"Yes, of course."

"And it actually is a childish feud?" I had to make sure that Sherlock wasn't in danger; even if it was against powerful family members.

"He's always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners."

"Yes," I could. The petty squabbling, the fights kept barely in control because neither wanted the blame if Mum cried. Then I realized this man would probably take too much from that and I hurriedly said, "No, god, no. I'd better..." Sherlock was waiting for me but since I wasn't going to get anywhere there it wouldn't hurt to try again with the assistant. "Hello again."

She looked up and there wasn't a spark of recognition in her eyes. "Hello," she said after a bit. She looked tolerant like speaking to me was something inconvenient and she had more important things to attend to. These probably related to the mobile in her hands.

"Yes, we met earlier on this evening." My delivery was just awful and I was stilted and awkward. I hadn't been like this since I was a teenager. I licked my lips, a seduction technique that usually worked well.

"Oh," she said making her voice high pitched. She was making a show of pretending to remember me.

Well, that was enough rejection for one evening."Ok." I glanced back at Mycroft; it would be good to show him he didn't intimidate me but at the same time I needed to be polite. "Good night."

"Good night, Doctor Watson."

I was already walking with Sherlock by the time Mycroft finished speaking. By all accounts, it should have been a disastrous evening. If I were anyone else it'd be the worst night of a lifetime. But the minor rejection (or any of the many others of the evening... or the murder) didn't affect my mood. I couldn't wait to get back to Baker Street. I had a feeling I was going to love it there.

----Sherlock's POV----

Mycroft and I bickered. He never properly explained what he was doing there but his presence explained some things to John. It was amusing that John thought he was a criminal mastermind and it really wasn't far from the truth. I explained it to John. Since Mycroft wasn't there except to intrude I left. John stayed behind to hit on Anthea but she turned him down. Really, if John weren't so remarkable he'd be just as annoying as the rest of them. He was as blind as them. I don't know why he bothered. Well, I'd just have to make my advances more obvious. Or... Maybe not. Maybe he actually was straight and I was wrong about him. Perhaps I should go to dinner and wait for him to make the first move. That'd be safer. I couldn't have him leaving over a misunderstanding.

"So, dim sum," John said when he caught up with me.

"Mm, I can always predict the fortune cookies," I joked.

"No, you can't."

"Almost can," I countered. He wasn't laughing so I took the opportunity to get the answer to one of my other questions. "You did get shot though."

"Sorry?"

"In Afghanistan," I clarified. "There was an actual wound."

"Oh, yeah. Shoulder," John said thus explaining why he didn't go back to being a trauma surgeon after the war.

"Shoulder, I thought so."

"No, you didn't."

Yes, I did. "The left one." There, proof.

"Lucky guess."

"I never guess."

"Yes, you do."

John knew me so well already. Not well enough but he'd see. He was quite a bit smarter than the normal people I worked with.

"What are you so happy about?" John asked.

You. But I couldn't say that. I didn't want to come off needy and overeager. I plucked one of the other thoughts out of my head and said, "Moriarty."

"What's Moriarty?" John asked.

"I have absolutely no idea."

John looked up at me and smiled and I couldn't help grinning back. If I was lucky I wouldn't be sleeping alone tonight. Even if we did retreat to separate bedrooms I wouldn't be alone anymore and really, what could be better than that? After all this time I'd finally made a friend. A true friend, not like Seb. Stop thinking about that. Focus on John. Wonderful, strong, smart, dangerous, John. Could he possibly get more perfect?

----John's POV----

Sherlock brought up my getting shot and I joked with him. God, the things his voice was doing to me!

Sherlock couldn't stop smiling and I thought it was because of me. Maybe, if he said it was I could make another move, a cautious one.

"What are you so happy about?" I asked.

"Moriarty," he answered almost immediately.

Oh, god. Was that a boyfriend? No, asexual. Remember that. "What's Moriarty?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

I had to be careful at dinner to respect his boundaries. I didn't want him throwing me out over a misunderstanding.

I could tell we were already friends. Even if it never came to anything more it wouldn't matter. I had finally found my place in London. I saw his head swing to me and I looked up at him. He was trying to hold in a smile so I grinned back at him. Could he possibly get any more perfect?

I hope you enjoyed the story. The next segments in the series takes other people's povs if you're interested. They are unfinished and abandoned.

A Study in Meetings>

[monomas-a-smug-bih]

Finally it’s here ughkmdkddk

Pssst search villain au on my ac for part 1

Villain! Bakugou x Reader II

Smoke seemed to climb up your throat from your lungs like a ladder, irritating the muscles and forcing out a throaty cough to wake you. Wake you? When had you fallen asleep…? You turned your head and sat up, brushing a few pebbles from your pants. After a few coughs, you shakily stood up, and scanned the area around you. You weren’t inside anymore, so that means…. your head spun around, spotting a boy caught in he rubble.

‘Shit.’ You run over, unconsciously counting just how many worn down and charred planks had been messily stacked onto his back from the building collapsing, he lay on his stomach, unconscious.

You mentally continued to curse, heart beat picking up the pace. You wondered what knocked 'you’ out, since the cause was obvious for the young Bakugou, did he really knock you out? You pondered, distracting yourself as you carefully started lifting the wood from his fallen form, calling his name occasionally. There wasn’t much blood, only a few cuts and occasional gashes from the impact, they must’ve been a lower part of the building, thank god. Still, the thought of him knocking you out left a gross taste in your mouth, what happened? You re-imagined your short and fair battle with the ash blonde, it was dim until you too produced flames to feed on the wood surrounding you two. Wait. It had been dim, right? You looked up at the sky, it was bright outside, had he been laying there over night?

Your panic spread through your chest, the anticipation killing you slowly.

“Come on, come on.” You threw the last of the few rocks and several burnt planks to the side, then examined the mess of debris you two’s fiery frenzy had created. You felt something cold brush your fingers, you jumped back, your eyes widened at the sudden realization. His skin. His skin was as cold as ice. No. Way. Had you killed him? Was this your fault? Was he dead? Tears gathered in your eyes as you lifted him upward in a panic. You placed two finger on his neck, then his wrist, praying. Feeling a slow, and worrying faint pulse, you hastily started to form a plan.

You arrived at the hospital, shocked he still hadn’t woken up. You had walked, or well, ran him to the place, carrying him and checking his pulse constantly paranoid, while seeking for help. Your back was killing you, but that wasn’t important right now, he’d hate you for doing this, you may as well be ratting him out. But what other choices did you have? They were scarce and ineffective, so you ignored them and shook the thought.

You parents were probably worried sick. You’d been gone a full after-noon and had a 'last minute sleepover’, with a 'friend of yours’ for all they knew. You texted them not to worry, and was called to the front desk once again. The directed you to his room, you were trembling, dying from the suspense of whether survival was an option for him. You audibly exhaled shakily, turning the corner to be matched with pure rouge irises almost immediately. They dashed away from you right away to focus on the suddenly important wall beside him. You don’t even have to look to know his fists are probably clenched under the sheets and his features are covered with anger or distaste.

But they’re not. He’s not. He’s almost curled into a slight ball like a child, trembling and shaking like a ticking time-bomb. But when he started to combust and explode form the inside before you, it wasn’t in the way you thought he would. Instead of pure rage painted in his face like usual, tears were hugging the corners of his pretty eyes, face creased in frustration. His hands gripped the sheets until his knuckles turned white. For a second you were scared they’d rip.

“H-hey.” You tried to recover from being so speechless. You took a step forward. His red irises continued to burn holes into the light wall of the hospital room, sparing you zero glances. He bit his lip, obviously hoping for recovery like you, but he did anything but that, biting his bottom lip until red dotted the fabric of a pillow beneath him. This entire situation was beneath, him. What was he doing.

“Fuck off.” He tried to defend himself, the crack in his voice betraying him completely. ’Fuck’.

“It’s okay to cry, y'know.” He threw a quick glare at you, shocked you even brought up his current state so fearlessly. “Shut it.” He threateningly pleaded in a hoarse voice, you sat down on his bed. Whether he retorted or not, his muscles were beaten and too weak to allow him to throw you off.

“Heroes, cry, and it’s okay for them to.” You continued his eyes widening.

“Hell, it’s okay for anyone to cry once in a while, everyone’s human here. Even villains.” You sighed shakily, his eyes transferring to the floor. “Shut the fuck up, Sappy.” You raised your brows, and laughed a little under your breath at the new nickname.

“But that’s something you’re not,” it was his turn to raise a brow, “Bakugou Katsuki is not a villain. Not even remotely close.” You frowned, brushing your fingertips through the silky sheets material.

“Don’t talk like you know me,” he grunted with an accidental sniffle, failing to find the right words to fend you off. “So…then.. why’d you do this?” You went on,

“I-i mean, the whole reason you’re here right now, is because want to be a hero, one of the best, so badly, that it hurts.” He finally managed to maintain eye contact, glossy eyes eyeing you curiously. He sighed deeply. “Who fucking cares.” You shook your head,

“Maybe the person who didn’t leave you to die by some old house, maybe the person who fucking carried you here?” You looked at the floor, surprised at your cursing. “Maybe your parents, maybe Izuku himself.” He scoffed. “They don’t, not anymore.” He sighed, “I’m sure it’s fucking quieter there without my fucking 'temper’ anyways.” You straightened your back in surprise. Who was this? You’d never seen him like this before. You hummed and inched him to continue, remains of unfallen tears still glistening in the light of his eyes, as he struggled to sit up.

“What? What are you-”

“I’m a fucking loser.” He deadpanned, “I lost, and would’ve fucking lost to All Might, if it weren’t for that fucking Deku.” You pondered on what he was getting, what was going on? The words hung in the air, drenched in his silent agony of his own self hatred.

“Katsuki.” You tested the name, scanning for a reaction. He dragged his eyes from the sheets to yours, he looked right through like you were a ghost. “Eraser was right, but, now that I’m out of fucking talent, all that’s left if my fucking temper,” He laughed, “all thanks to me and that fucking Deku.” His voice cracked again, it came out as growl under his breath, and he chomped down into his lip again.

“So get with the fucking program and stop giving a shit.” You were astonished. After all, the former bully, Bakugou Katsuki, in reality, ended up bullying himself more than anyone else. How ironic.

“You haven’t lost. Anything.” He looked back up at you, arching a brow once again. “So what, you’ve gotten hit a few times. The only way you’re losing right now, is by the fact that you haven’t gotten back up yet.” You smiled, almost hesitantly, forcing yourself to keeping eye contact. He seemed to exhale, as an attempt to clear his thoughts and start anew. He just sat there, the sun reflecting off his golden looking hair. There were probably thousands of thought floating around in that spiky haired head right now.

He thought about his parents. How useless he was to them as a son, he assumed they wouldn’t care for his smaller disappearance as much, since he thought his 'potential talent’ was the only thing likeable about him. Now he thought that was gone, he didn’t think they’d need his temper around nor tolerate it.

He missed a lot of things. He missed his parents. Maybe even training and some classes. He missed cooking for them.

He missed you. No matter how far down it was pushed in is mind thanks to denial, it was still there. And there you were giving him another chance.

Then he did some thing neither of you expected. He leaned in, and put his head on your shoulder, and felt you jump a bit. Getting the memo, you wrapped your arms around him when he was ready to pull away, squeezing him tight. Then you were shocked even further, as you felt a dampness on the back of your neck. He was crying, he didn’t make a single sound, but you knew he was. Hesistantly, he dug his face into your neck and returned the hug, squeezing you even tighter. The ash blonde laughed dryly, ready to redeem himself, even if just a little bit.

“Stop being so fucking sappy.”

It’s been done, for one of the nons asking for this, I tried to keep the angst on the done low, and I hope the fluffy ending was good enough for you. Ignore the typos this was written at midnight ugh

[mchanv]

(DFYaH) Chapter 12: The First Curse

[Originally on AO3]

Summary: I’ve always wondered what Draco Malfoy’s side of the Harry Potter saga was, that’s how I came up with this idea. It is not possible at all to be canon, due to the inability of certain magical items in the story. It runs alongside the books very closely, so some dialogue or actions can come directly from them.        Draco Malfoy goes to Hogwarts for his first year. After being sorted into Slytherin and the night had fallen, a strange silvery bird gives him a message. The bird, seemingly a Phoenix, belongs to Albus Dumbledore, his Headmaster, who gives Draco a book upon his arrival in his office that same night. Draco has no idea what the book meant, but decides to go through with what Dumbledore has asked of him.

Ship: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood (background)

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Word count: 2,679

—————

“What did your parents say again?” Draco let out an exaggerated sigh and looked up from his notebook in which he had been working for the book.

    “Pansy, for the millionth time, Nicholas Flamel is a well-known alchemist for having the only real Philosopher’s Stone in his possession,” he explained to her for what felt like too often. “Have you gone deaf or something?”

    Pansy shook her head. “I’ve just been thinking...” Draco sighed and rolled his eyes, returning to his work.

    Harry Potter received an Invisi—

    Pansy fell from the bed.

    Draco started in surprise. He jumped off his chair and walked over to the girl on the ground. “Merlin, Pansy, what’s gotten into you?” he asked as he pulled her to her feet.

    Pansy was grinning widely. “I finally understand it!” she beamed excitedly at him.

    “Understand what?”

    Pansy sat down on Draco’s bed and gestured for him to do the same. As he took his seat, she started her explanation.

    “The Philosopher’s Stone can turn any metal into pure gold, but also produces the Elixir of Life. If that’s what they’re hiding at Hogwarts, and what needs such strong protection, there’s only one possible reason Quirrell would want to steal it for.”

    Draco looked down in thoughts. She was right, but why could Quirrell, who was still a Hogwarts teacher, want the stone for anything else except to become rich? They had addressed that possibility before, but never settled for it, because it seemed too absurd. Except... No, that’s not possible. Or, is it...

    “The Dark Lord, that’s who he’s working for,” Pansy whispered, leaning closer to Draco, who looked up at her, shocked, but not too shocked. He still didn’t fully understand it, though.

    “But how can he work for him, though?” he asked her thoughtfully. She shrugged.

    “One can only guess what goes on in the mind of the Dark Lord.”

—————

After his talk with Pansy, he had abandoned his work to dig deeper in on the possibilities. They were almost sure Quirrell wanted to steal the stone for the Dark Lord, but all their ideas of how they communicated and planned seemed impossible.

    Now, at midnight, Draco couldn’t sleep as his mind clouded with questions. None answered. There was also the thing about his father acting suspicious that had caught his attention. He turned on his side, staring into the darkness of his room. He sighed and turned around again, but found nothing interesting to focus on in the alike darkness.

    He sighed once more before giving up and sat up, taking his wand and lighting the candle on his bedside table. He took the book from there and continued reading the twelfth chapter, The Mirror of Erised.

    He read, entranced, as Potter saw his family in that mirror. He was smiling slightly, happy for the boy who finally found out at least what his parents looked like, even though he knew reviving someone was impossible.

    At the part about Weasley, though, he couldn’t care less and even got slightly irritated at his behaviour towards Potter.

    He became more attentive as Dumbledore explained about the mirror, silently wondering what his reflection would show him. He almost decided to go and find the mirror himself after break ended, but dismissed it as Dumbledore told Potter that the mirror would be replaced the next day, which had already passed for him.

    With a slight sense of disappointment, he put away the book, extinguished the candle, and lay down in his bed. He soon fell asleep, but it was a restless sleep, scary and disrupting scenes clouding his dreams.

—————

Draco didn’t know why but he awoke even more tired than before he went to sleep, of which he was sure was far past midnight. Pansy woke him up that morning, reminding him they should continue working on the book and its mystery. They only had five days left, six until the start of term, to work on it and had decided to use their time well.

    Right after breakfast, they made their way upstairs towards Draco’s bedroom. It was a big, rectangular room with a big king-sized bed in the middle of it, black hangings and light green covers. The walls were lined with mostly bookshelves, making their own small library. A big crystal chandelier, sending of a soft light hung from the ceiling. The walls and ceiling were painted a light shade of silver, while the door and floor comprised a dark-coloured wood.

    They sat down on the bed, and Draco started talking.

    “I finished the chapter last night—“

    “This morning,” Pansy corrected. Draco narrowed his eyes as a sign to not interrupt him.

    “—and I found out about this Mirror of Erised. It’s a mirror that shows the deepest desires of our hearts. Potter saw his family in it. Dumbledore said that it was being moved the next day and that, if he found it again, he will be prepared for it.”

    “So that means it has something to do with the stone...” Pansy considered thoughtfully. It did make sense, in Draco’s opinion, though he did not quite understand how.

    They weren’t done listing their possibilities, and the day had already ended. They continued doing this until the day they had to return to Hogwarts. On the platform, they saw Granger, and though they both gave her a dirty look, she merely nodded at them, looking at Draco apprehensively.

    Draco and Pansy took a seat in an empty compartment, prepared to start the long ride towards Hogwarts, as the door was slid open. In the opening stood Granger, hands on her waist but not looking too sure of herself. She eyed Pansy warily before turning her attention on Draco.

    “I need to have a word with you,” she stated calmly, gesturing to the compartment next doors. Draco sighed and nodded, giving Pansy a smile and following Granger out, the book tucked beneath his arm to keep it safe.

    They entered the empty compartment, and Granger took a seat, gesturing to Draco to do the same. He sat down opposite her.

    “What’s your deal with Harry?” she asked out of nowhere, catching Draco slightly off guard.

    “What are you talking about, Granger?” he returned, raising an eyebrow. She sighed.

    “I know there’s something going on, Malfoy, just tell me. What’s your deal with Harry?” she repeated, troubling to keep her voice calm.

    “I don’t know what you mean,” he responded briskly, and he really didn’t. What deal would he have with Potter?

    “Then how do you know he lives with Muggles?” she questioned, now catching Draco fully off guard and making him unable to mask his surprised expression which he knew was visible on his face.

    He sighed. He shouldn’t tell her but — “It’s a secret,” he went with, staring at the girl in front of him uncertainly.

    She smiled slightly. “That must be, and I’ll keep it that way, but I would appreciate if you at least told me.” Her voice was almost pleading and Draco faltered, taking the book from beneath his arm and showing it to her, knowing she would see only white. She raised an eyebrow and looked up at him, silently demanding an explanation.

    “This is how I know about it,” he explained, his voice soft as he remembered the night Dumbledore gave it to him. “I received it from the Headmaster on my first day here. No one else beside me can read it. You made me find out about that, though.

    “It’s about Potter, following his life. Pansy and I have been following it, even studying it, as Dumbledore had asked me. It’s prepared me for what I had to say twenty-four hours in advance. Neither Pansy nor I know what exactly it is, though, and we’re just blindly following it.”

    After he finished his explanation, she took the book from his outstretched hands and examined it. “Strange,” she whispered thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of such a thing before.” She handed him the book back.

    “Neither have I.”

    Granger stood up, and so did Draco. Granger held out her hand.

    “I understand it if you don’t want to be friends, but let us at least not be enemies when we’re alone,” she said, smiling, “Draco.”

    “When we’re alone,” he agreed, glad to befriend the girl, and shook her hand, “Hermione.”

    They left the compartment and parted ways, Gran—Hermione down the train and Draco back to Pansy, where he explained about what happened between him and Hermione. He had completely forgotten to tell her Pansy could also know.

—————

After their talk on the train, Draco hadn’t talked with Hermione anymore, only when she was with her friends did he feel the need for it. He mostly kept to himself, or tried to make fun of others as much as possible, mostly of Potter.

    His last meeting with Dumbledore had been quite... strange? Dumbledore hadn’t said a thing about Draco’s strange behaviour on how the holidays went. For him, it was obvious he was hiding something, but to the old man it seemed the most natural thing that someone is a stuttering mess and almost unable to form coherent sentences while telling someone else how their holidays had gone.

    Draco was brought out of his thought by a figure making its way out of the library.

    “Ah, Longbottom,” Draco sneered, having waited outside for the Gryffindor. Said boy turned around and looked up at Draco, fear flickering in his eyes. “Just the one I was looking for.”

    He shifted on his feet, and Draco’s smirk grew bigger. “Not so brave for a Gryffindor, now, are you?” Draco laughed before raising his wand at the trembling boy. “I was looking for someone to test this on,” he drawled.

    “No, please, don’t!” Longbottom exclaimed, walking backwards.

    Draco’s eyes narrowed at his target. “Too late. Locomotor Mortis!”

    Longbottom’s legs sprang together, and he fell backwards on the stone floor.

    Draco turned around, feeling slightly sick of what he had just done, and walked away, leaving the poor target alone, on the ground.

—————

The start of term had been calm with not much happening aside his little... talk with Longbottom, but Draco had found a very good reason to be where he was now; standing in front of the door to his godfather’s office, waiting to be given entrance.

    The door opened, and Snape appeared in its opening. “Draco?” he started, sounding quite surprised.

    “I need to talk to you,” Draco answered, looking up at his godfather.

    “Of course,” he responded, holding open the door for Draco to enter. Snape took a seat behind his desk as Draco sat down on the chair in front of it.

    “So,” Severus started, looking at Draco apprehensively while leaning towards him, elbows resting on the wooden desk, “what is the reason for this sudden visit, Draco?”

    Draco shifted. “Is it true you are refereeing the next match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff?” he asked in one breath, returning Severus’ look. He nodded. “Why?”

    Snape responded with a slight smirk. “First, who do you have that information from?” he returned. Draco groaned inwardly.

    “The book,” he said in an undertone, wary for eavesdroppers though knowing his godfather’s office was a secure location.

    Snape nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve figured out quite a deal already, haven’t you?” Draco raised an eyebrow, wondering which deal he was talking about. “About the stone and... Professor Quirrell,” he explained, looking pained at just saying his name. Draco nodded.

    “I’m refereeing to make sure he doesn’t try anything,” he stated bluntly, eyes shifting to the side in a manner of shame. Draco nodded again.

    “So that’s why... You’re only making him nervous, you know. His friends tried persuading him to not play,” he said calmly, holding his godfather’s gaze, who sighed.

    “I am aware, Draco, very. But it is the only thing I can do. No one would believe it if I said Quirrell was trying to steal the stone and eliminate Potter,” he said, sounding defeated.

    “They suspect you, though. Of trying to steal the stone, I mean,” Draco said.

    “I’m aware, but it’s a good thing they think so, it gives me free roam.” Draco nodded thoughtfully. He gave Severus a small smile before standing up, nodding his goodbye, and leaving, heading towards the Slytherin Dormitories to inform Pansy.

—————

He was on his way to his Dormitories as voices from a nearby hallway pulled his attention. He followed the muffled voices, having a hushed conversation. As he neared, the voices became clearer.

    “We still have to be quiet, though...” one of them was saying. In Draco’s eyes, he sounded a lot like Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. But what would Wood be doing down in the dungeons?

    “No one ever comes here, Oliver,” another voice said. Marcus Flint, fifth year and captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

    “Still...” Wood tried to argue.

    “Don’t worry about the Slytherins, I’m sure they would be fine with it,” Flint reassured him. Draco was hiding behind the corner, listening to the voices with his topmost attention.

    “All right...” Wood gave in, and Draco’s curiosity got the best of him. He looked around the corner and had to stifle a gasp of surprise.

    There, just around the corner, were the captains of Gryffindor and Slytherin, rivals through even war. Wood pushed up against the wall, Flint pushing him against it. Their lips connected, and they didn’t look fond of stopping.

    Despite himself, Draco smiled. Flint was a Slytherin, and though this would seem like a crime to other houses, Slytherin house loyalty sometimes rivalled Hufflepuff’s. He turned around and walked away, leaving the two fifth years be.

    In the common room, he couldn’t resist calling the attention of every Slytherin as he walked in. Most of them looked at him strangely, some apprehensively. “I have some interesting news,” he started, his voice loud enough to reach the back of the room. “One of our dear Slytherins has got himself a Gryffindor boyfriend!”

    Many whispers broke out in the room, but none were filled with disgust, just curiosity. A fourth year spoke up. “Who?” she asked eagerly. Draco gave her a quick glance before turning back towards the group at large.

    “Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood,” he said, stalking towards Pansy before to his dorm, accompanied by her, leaving the room in its whispered chaos.

    “Flint and Wood? I would have never guessed!” Pansy exclaimed throwing herself on Draco’s bed.

    “Likewise, until I found them snogging in a deserted corridor,” he said, grinning slightly.

    “It’s nice though,” she said, smiling, before turning serious. “Now, how was your talk with Snape?”

—————

Late that night when he couldn’t sleep, Draco decided to read the newest part of the book. He had only read up until the part where he had to curse Longbottom and suddenly hadn’t wanted to continue anymore. He pulled his hangings closed and took the book from his nightstand, using Lumos to light the pages.

    Draco smiled. Potter finally found it, and it was just like Hermione to have a useful book at the ready. Reading the information about Flamel in the book, Draco marked it so he could keep it for later use.

    He shook his head slowly as he read about the trio still suspecting Severus. Why couldn’t they see it was Quirrell, and not Snape, who wanted to steal the bloody stone?

    It made him proud to see that the Gryffindor was not backing down from his Quidditch challenge, and, seeing as the sentences had ended, he put away the book, extinguished the light with a whispered “Nox,”, and fell into a relaxed sleep.

—————

(Text Copyright © 2020 MChanV)

[therealsymmetra]

//Twisted

It had to happen eventually, you knew this was part of your story.  

Cillian is @tagyourjakku‘s Hunter

 “Andi? Do you hear me? Get out of there and get to your ship, now!” Zavala sounded so far away in her ears, the thrumming in her skull making it hard to concentrate as Andi tried to center herself.

         “The ship’s landing across the airfield! Let’s go!” Selune’s voice came in loud and clear next to Andi’s ear as a Cabal ship came streaking across the sky, the explosion on impact shaking the base beneath her feet. Andi took no time as she sprinted across the deck, watching as her dropship disappeared behind a complex across from her.

         Andi dropped down onto the lower deck, several Cabal still fighting their ghoulish counterparts that twitched and howled. Andi fired as she ran past, not wanting to linger before she jumped the gap that had been blown in an adjoining bridge. She landed with a thud, rolling behind a cargo box as several more warped Cabal fired at her. She caught her breath, noting the pain in her right side, probably broken ribs.

         “We just have a little further, just the other side of this complex, then we’ll be home free!” Selune said, hovering just to the side of her.

         Andi looked up at her, giving a stiff nod before standing and turning to fire. She cut her way through the opposing forces, trying to ignore the way they snarled and screamed as she dropped them one at a time. She was getting tired, the fight with… whoever it was before had left her with little else than pure force of will to get out with.

         “Andi! Status!”

         “Working on it!” She replied.

         “We’re nearly—“ Selune was cut off, a large Cabal hand wrapping around her shell, the Cabal themselves being lifted off the floor by one of those things.

         “No!” Andi shrieked, grasping for Selune before a blinding white light nearly knocked her off her feet. By the time Andi could see again her ghost was… gone.

         “Selune? Selune!”

         Andi’s breathing caught in her throat, her head spinning as she tried to orient herself.

         “Zavala? Cayde? Selune? Anyone?”

         Fear, pure and unadulterated seized her as she realized how alone she was. Truly, fully alone. Selune had been there since… everything, Andi had never been without her. It was like a limb had been severed, she could no long feel that buzzing warmth in the back of her head that she never knew she would miss if Selune was ever taken. The possibility of losing her had been unfathomable, and now it was all so real. Andi hadn’t noticed the shielded twisted Cabal in her frantic search, only seeing the blast out of the corner of her eye before it hit her and sent her flying. She hit the ground hard, letting out a sharp cry as the jagged scarred infrastructure cut through her under armor and into her side. She scrambled to hold on, her fingers slipping, it was futile seeing as the monsters before her loomed over her, surely ready to cut her down if she had managed to climb up.

         Andi squeezed her eyes shut, images of her life running through her head. Zavala and Cillian. The Tower. Selune right after she had risen in that dirty pit she had somehow ended up in. And after a moment, she let go.

         She wasn’t sure how long she had been out, she hadn’t expected to wake up, but the sharp pain in her shoulder demanded to not be ignored. She was looking up at something, she wasn’t sure what it was until her eyesight finally cleared. Her head was spinning, completely disoriented by her current position at the bottom of a ravine. She wasn’t sure how exactly she had survived. She rolled over onto her side, the action sending bolts of agony through her body, she barely stifled a cry as she finally settled in her new position. She could hear her breathing heavy and labored in her own ears as she brought her hands up to her face. She could feel something hot filling her ear, three of her fingers not responding to her demands to move, and her right leg—it felt like it was on fire.

Andi was afraid to look down, but she forced herself to survey the damage done. She nearly wretched, her skin was splayed, muscle and bone and tissue all exposed and bloody. She took in a deep breath through her teeth, pinching her eyes shut as she tried to figure out her next move. She didn’t want to die there, alone and in pain at the bottom of a ravine on one of Mars’ moons. She grappled with her belt, slipping it off before trying to position herself in a way that she could access her leg.

         She slipped the belt around her knee, just above the worst of the lacerations before tying it in a loop. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she pulled it as tight as she could. She let out a guttural scream, the action making her dizzy, softer pained panting leaving her as she let the rush of adrenaline roll over her. She pulled herself up, every wound she had endured feeling like they were simultaneously opening up. She fell backwards against the rocky wall behind her, letting herself catch her breath. She needed to get back to her ship, she couldn’t give up here, not yet. If she could get clear of the complex above her she might be able to hail her ship again, if she was even close enough to do it without…The reality hit her again, this time the shock two-fold as she institutionally tried to find Selune nearby.

         Andi squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steady her breathing but it only came faster and shorter. Her head was starting spin again, making her feel nauseous as everything blurred together. She pressed her shaking hands into her eyes, stomach twisting with anxiety. She needed to focus on something. Anything. She took in a breath through her nose, filling her chest and holding it before letting it go. She brought her hands together in front of her, intertwining her fingers the best she could and trying to imagine it was Cillian or Zavala. She tried to call Zavala’s smile, Cillian’s laugh, their warmth, their light, into her mind.

         Andi summoned her courage, taking in a deep breath again before she rolled over onto her stomach. She began to crawl, she could hear commotion above her head and she hoped none of the Cabal or those things could see her. She took it a foot at a time, clawing at the rock and dirt beneath her as she inched towards open sky. It felt like a lifetime, her own long and arduous lifetime, until she was finally in open space. She reached for her wrist, hailing her own ship, hoping, praying that her ship was close enough. 

         She closed her eyes, resting face down, realizing that her leg had gone numb. Then she heard it, that familiar hum and suddenly the dirt and dust around her plumed and she could feel the heat of the engines above her. She could hear the airlock open, without Selune she had to climb in physically. The ramp thudded beside her and Andi reached out, grabbing for the rails and hauling herself up. She felt sick, her vision greying as all the blood rushed from her head. She was so close, she couldn’t give up just yet, she had to keep pushing.

         Andi took it a rung at a time until she was inside. The cockpit lit up and beeping quietly every now and then.

         “Access autopilot,” her voice echoed, sounding empty and gravely like she had rocks in her throat.

         She felt tears prickling her eyes as nothing replied to her. She shoved herself along the floor, the action too painfully slow. She reached up, propping her head up so she could see the control panel in front of her. She caught her reflection in the window, averting her gaze, the gash above her eye, the blood, the parts of her body that should never see the light of day showing through the viscera. She programmed the Tower, her vision going grey again as she slumped backwards, her head finding a spot on the floor to rest. She let her eyes slide shut, just for a moment, just enough to regain her energy.

         Cillian willed his warp drive to go faster, keeping an eye on the jumpship that was near milliseconds ahead of him. Not just any jumpship, her jumpship.

         “Andi, please, can you hear me?” He called only for the airwaves to remain empty.

         “What’s going on out there?” Zavala asked, his voice strained. He had done a lot of… stern talking over the past hour or so, ever since Andi had gone silent.

         “Her ship is coming in but I’m getting nothing over comms. I’d say have someone ready in the hangar.”

         “I’m headed there now.”

         “Bring a medic.”

         Cillian could hear Zavala sigh heavily, forcing the air through his nose.

         “She’ll be okay, I’m sure. She has to be okay.” Cillian said.

         “I know… I know. Hurry back,” Zavala said before the comms cut out.

         As he entered Earth airspace he could see Andi’s ship floating in orbit, not diving to dock back home like usual.

         “Lyra, get me on her ship.”

         “Her shields are down, I should have no problem getting you in there.”

         “That’s not… great. Okay, let’s go.”

         Lyra nodded, the ghost spinning her shell before they both dematerialized. When they appeared in Andi’s ship Cillian noticed how dark everything was, the interior lights hadn’t been turned on and the pilot’s seat was empty.

         “Andi?” his voice echoed eerily through the cabin, his skin crawling.

         How had her ship gotten home without anyone to fly it?

         “Selune? You there?”

         Again, nothing.

         Cillian stepped forward, Lyra lighting up the cockpit. That was when he saw the trail of blood that lead up to the control panel, two legs laying slack against the floor at its end.

         “I need medics!” Cillian rushed forward, Lyra spinning again as she hailed the Tower.

         “I need medics standing by at the hangar immediately.”

         “We’re here, they’re ready. What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Zavala’s voice faltered, fear bleeding through his usually composed exterior.

         “I just… standby.”

         “Cillian… please.”

         “I have her—I just…”

         Cillian pulled Andi against his chest, images, too familiar, too old rushing through his head. He blinked rapidly a few times, cradling Andi as he stood. He didn’t want to examine her, didn’t want to study her too closely for fear of seeing something that he wouldn’t like. But as Lyra brought them back to his own ship he felt her twitch in his arms.

         “We’re going home Andi, just… please… please stay with me.”

         He didn’t look at her as he instructed Lyra to get them back to the Tower but as he sat, trying to adjust her in his arms he heard something. A small voice replied.

         “Okay.”

[shioritsumi]

Because this wouldn’t leave me alone while at work, even though this doesn’t focus on my BMC next-gen characters, it IS a big moment in Emile’s past involving his Squip. 

WARNING: Suicide attempt drama located under the cut. If this is a problem for you, or a trigger, don’t read ahead. I’m placing this under a read more for your benefit. 

The Squip watched him curiously as he moved about the house deliberately. They’d fought earlier, and hadn’t spoken in hours, but the supercomputer clearly wasn’t at all convinced. He was sold on his own value, even as Emile sat down to write out a note. It was heavy to pen these words, even heavier with the Squip reading over his shoulder. 

“Oh, come on,” he chuckled, “you’re not actually going through with it. You’re finally going somewhere, Emile.”

“I’ve hurt everyone around me because of you. I don’t have any friends anymore, because they think I’m a player and a jerk and-”

“Well, that’s hardly my fault.”

“Your-...you’re! No, you know what, forget it.” Emile stood up, leaving the finished note on the table and climbing the stairs. “I’m through with you.” The Squip was left in the dining room, examining his nails before appearing at the top of the stairs, leaning casually against the bannister. “I’m through with all of this.”

“Don’t lie to me, Emile-I’m in your brain. I know you’re too much of a coward to do this.”

“You don’t know anything about me! You don’t know what I’m capable of!”

“I’m literally in your head, Emile. I know you’re capable of plenty of things, but suicide isn’t one of them. Besides-” The super computer stopped as Emile stormed past him into the bathroom, throwing open the medicine cabinet. “Besides,” the Squip continued, reappearing behind him again, brows furrowed, “you’re a coward, and you know it. That’s why you got me, isn’t it?”

“You’re right, I am a coward. That’s why I’m doing this instead of finding some way around it.” Emile blindly grabbed the first bottle his hand touched. Looked like his dad’s heart medication. Fine, whatever. “I’m sure there actually is a way to deactivate you, or something, but I can’t find the energy or courage to look for it anymore.”

“So why bother with this? You know I’m not-” The Squip’s voice suddenly morphed into a squawk as Emile opened the bottle and promptly poured the pills into his mouth. The taste was chalky and dry and horrible and he forced himself to swallow all the same. The next medication! His mother’s blood pressure medication, down the hatch. “Emile, what are you doing?!” Not feeling so great. He downed two more bottles, and the Squip was losing his composure. “Emile, stop this! You can’t kill yourself!”

Emile wobbled as an abrupt shock made his stomach lurch; he pressed a hand over his mouth and forced himself to swallow back the bile rising in his throat. “No. NO. You’re trying to stop me-I’m not backing down here. Not anymore!”

“Emile, think about your family! Your parents, your brother! What about the people at school!?”

“The people you made me alienate and abandon for fame and popularity? They won’t care...besides! You’re just trying to save yourself again! No way, I’m NOT backing down now! I’ve been a jerk, and now I need to make it up to people!”

“You’re 14, this isn’t going to make things up to anyone, it’s just stupid! You wanna make it up to them, go back to school and be a decent human being!”

His hands shook with shock after shock as he reached for whatever bottle he could, downing as much as he could. The Squip was quickly devolving into begging pants, running his hands through his hair desperately. “I can’t do that anymore, Squip. You ruined me as a decent human being. The least I can do is destroy myself and the thing that destroyed me.” 

“Emile, if you die, I die!” There it was, the first pure honesty he’d ever heard from the Squip. “Emile, please! I.....I don’t want to die, Emile! Don’t kill us both!”

“No. This ends now.” He felt horrible, and his vision was spinning, and everything hurt. “This...this has to-to end.....”

“You’ll miss me if you live through this. You’ll have ruined yourself.”

“You already did.”

And abruptly everything was white. Wait-did he die? There was muffled murmurs somewhere and the bright white moved and he started to make out details. There was something in his throat and blocking his mouth and he couldn’t move for some reason...? “-ile? Emile? Emile, can you hear me?” A man in a long coat hung over him, with a penlight in his hand, shining it into his eyes. Emile squinted wearily, attempting to shake his head. “He’s awake, and everything’s reacting appropriately, the brain damage doesn’t seem to have affected his reflexes....”

Brain...damage? Emile looked around, but he saw everyone except the Squip. The breathing tube was finally removed and he hacked and coughed and panted and was abruptly hugged way too tightly by every member of the family he thought the Squip had alienated him from. “Don’t you ever do that again!” His mother was sobbing, and even his little brother had his eyes squeezed shut as he apologized profusely. 

“D-Doc...am I gonna...have to talk to someone about this?”

“Not until you’re ready, son.”

“Oh, good.” Emile’s head hurt, and he couldn’t remember too much, except that he definitely couldn’t tell a therapist he’d tried to kill himself because he hated the supercomputer in his head that he put there himself because he was desperate for attention from a guy who still didn’t know he was alive. And he almost wasn’t alive still. The Squip was right, though...he’d ruined himself. How was he supposed to come back from this? How was he supposed to go back to normal and then try to talk to Zeke Heere again-he didn’t even succeed with the Squip! He was ruined, but he was ruined all on his own. At least...if nothing else, he had his family back, maybe...?

[drades-lair]

Forever yours

Author: Drade666

Rating: T

Warnings: Slight gore, slight language, SPOILERS! Trespasser spoilers!

Pairings: Dorian x Male Inquisitor

Fandom: Dragon age 3

Searing white hot pain, that was all (I/N) could feel as the anchor pulsed violently sending the young inquisitor to his knees. Solas or Fen’harel now, seemed indifferent to the young man’s suffering as he casually approached allowing anger to briefly replace the inquisitor’s pain as he stared up at the elven mage he’d once called a friend. The mage leaned down to grab (I/N) by the arm staring straight at the illuminated mark that was viciously creeping its way up the inquisitor’s arm, eating him alive!

“If…I live…I swear Fen’harel…I will find you!” (I/N) gritted out with hate filled eyes

“I know…” Fen’harel trailed off however he was about to do something with his free hand but never got the chance as the screech of a dragon instantly caught his attention, drawing it skyward.

“NO!” Came the familiar cry of Dorian?

(I/N) watched as a bolt of energy was hurled at Fen’harel making direct contact as he was thrown back away from (I/N). The pain resumed more fierce than ever before causing the inquisitor to cry out in agony as the dragon who’d they’d freed from the Qunari landed nearby allowing Dorian to leap off heading straight for his partner. Coming to a halt on one knee Dorian wrapped an arm around (I/N)’s shoulders that shook desperately from the pain luckily Dorian had not just attacked Fen’harel rashly he’d come to save the one he loved.

“My turn to be the hero,” Dorian whispered as he pulled out a stone from his back pocket

The stone was bright blue and it pulsed just like the anchor with carvings in the surface that looked as if they were from Tevinter. Once Dorian managed to pry open (I/N)’s fingers he placed the stone directly on the mark which had an instant effect that somehow managed to intensify the pain further causing a scream to erupt this time from the young inquisitor’s throat while Dorian braced his lover the best he could through the pain. Fen’harel managed to get back on his feet with wide, bewildered eyes that could not believe what Dorian was attempting after all if he failed the inquisitor would die but if he succeeded…Fen’harel watched as (I/N) wreathed in agony for a few minutes that seemed like forever however then…he went limp, falling into Dorian’s arms as the mage eased his partner to the ground. Worry filled Dorian’s gaze as he swiftly searched for any signs of life none to be found at first until…there! The faintest of a heart beat followed by another, weak but there. Sighing in relief Dorian glanced up to Fen’harel who now stood a short distance away watching, preparing himself in case the dread wolf attacked only he didn’t? Instead Fen’harel simply nodded before vanishing into the Eluvian thus leaving the two alone. The anchor was gone now, completely closed on (I/N)’s hand but evidence of it had been left in the form of a large deep scar on his hand as well as vein like scars that creeped up (I/N)’s arm all the way to his neck ending just below his jaw. Using the dragon who’d been so kind as to offer her services Dorian took (I/N) back to Skyhold where of course questions were instantly asked of him only to receive silence in return as Dorian locked the two of them away in (I/N)’s room so he could begin healing his partner quickly without interruption, critical especially considering the young inquisitor was still fighting for his life after having been weakened severely from all he’d been through.

The inquisitor remained unconscious for weeks leading Dorian to question if his choice had been the correct one or not. The healers had suggested severing (I/N)’s badly damaged arm but until he awoke Dorian insisted they leave it as it wasn’t really clear if the limb was unable to be salvaged or not nor would it be clear till they could test once (I/N) awoke. Dorian also didn’t feel it was his call to make after all removing it would pretty much put an end to his lover’s ability to fight, a fact that would not be taken too well by the young man. Dorian continued to tend to (I/N) as he slept as well as continued to work on healing his badly damaged arm when finally after 3 weeks of waiting (I/N) began to stir with a groan of pain as he slowly opened his eyes to find Dorian instantly right beside him with a gentle hand on his shoulder that helped to guide the young man’s focus.

“D-Dorian?” (I/N) rasped out

“Easy…Amatus, you are safe,” Dorian reassured him

“Hmm…huh? The anchor?” (I/N) suddenly wondered remembering bits of what had happened however upon glancing down at his hand he remembered what Dorian had done.

“It’s gone... you are finally free from that accursed thing,” Dorian explained gently

“But how? Not even Fen’harel could remove the anchor? How did you?” (I/N) asked furrowing his brow deeply in confusion.

“Well…first I stole an ancient stone from one of the elven ruins we visited then I read some ancient Tevinter magic from a book I borrowed from the Tevinter ruins in the Frost Basin and finally I performed a very old spell on said elven stone creating a rune of sorts,” Dorian rambled

“How did you know it would remove the anchor?” (I/N) pressed

“I didn’t…not at first…it was just meant to be a useful tool but when you ran after those Qunari and started complaining that the anchor was causing you pain again I began to re-examine the rune that’s when I discovered it has a backlash effect,” Dorian explained a little further

“Backlash effect?” (I/N) repeated in confusion

“Yes, apparently it can reverse the effects of magic…no matter the magic’s strength,” Dorian elaborated

“So that’s what happened…the rune reversed the magical effects of the mark,” (I/N) realized

“Yes and…furthermore it did something a little more than that,” Dorian stammered slightly

“What do you mean?” (I/N) asked curiously concerned

“Because you were exposed to the anchor, the fade and then this rune…apparently it has might you say…enlightened you,” Dorian continued in a rather vague manner

“What is that supposed to mean? What did it do to me?” (I/N) demanded although not much sounded like a demand at current in his weak state.

“It appears to have opened you to magic…you are…a mage,” Dorian explained tentatively only to be met with an expression of shocked confusion.

“H-how…do you know that?” (I/N) asked

“I can feel it…being a mage myself it’s easy to tell one mage from another,” Dorian explained simply

“I…I’m a mage…” (I/N) let the idea sink in for a moment only to have the sudden realization hit him that although the anchor maybe gone he could not feel his arm.

“It’s not all bad...there’s nothing like hurdling a fire ball at a cow for the first time,” Dorian jested but the smile quickly faded upon seeing (I/N) staring at his damaged limb.

“I can’t feel it Dorian…I can’t feel my arm from the elbow down…” (I/N) trailed off with sadness on his face.

“I suppose that answers my next couple questions…but don’t give up hope yet.” Dorian insisted moving around the bed to the other side where he gently placed his hands on the inquisitor’s wounded arm with instructions for him to describe if he felt anything at all.

“I guess…I feel…weight? Like…pressure?” (I/N) described vaguely

“But you know I’m touching you?” Dorian inquired curiously

“I think so…no heat or sensation but the weight is there,” (I/N) explained still unconvinced

“That’s actually not bad…could take a while but I think we could build on this,” Dorian optimistically stated with a smile that was slightly contagious as (I/N) couldn’t help but smile back.

Sure enough the two of them began the slow process of trying to heal the damage that had been done to the inquisitor however progress was very slow leaving (I/N) frustrated however more than that was getting used to the damage done that had left physical marks on him. Dorian brought (I/N) some fresh water as well as a few herbs to help with the pain however immediately he could tell that the young man was troubled as he grimaced, sitting cross-legged on the bed while trying to work the muscles in his arm to move…barely managing to move his fingers or lift his arm but it was even more clear that there was something else bothering him.

“Amatus?” Dorian gently approached getting the young man’s attention

“Hmm? It’s frustratingly slow progress,” (I/N) groused

“Give yourself time, it’s only been a month…” Dorian encouraged

“I suppose…still…between the slow progress and then there’s these…how can anyone stand to look at me?” The question was sudden and unexpected as the inquisitor lightly brushed his right hand over the markings.

“Hey…enough of that now,” Dorian stated irritably

“I’m serious Dorian! How can you stand to look at me?” (I/N) barked with sorrow filled eyes that took Dorian off guard at first yet the mage quickly recovered giving a heavy sigh before walking to (I/N)’s bedside.

“First of all I enjoy a man with a few scars it makes them look…rugged…” Dorian began

“Dorian…” The young inquisitor let a small huffed laugh escape with the name as he turned from Dorian with his eyes lightly closed.  

“Second…I didn’t fall purely for your looks…I fell for your tenacity, daring and your perseverance…that is why I love you… Amatus,” Dorian explained lovingly, gently grabbing the younger man by the chin to make him look into his eyes.  

“Really?” The inquisitor asked almost sounding confused  

“Absolutely, I will love you…no matter what,” Dorian assured the young man then he leaned in for a passionate kiss that (I/N) gratefully returned.

 ***

With Dorian’s help (I/N) not only regained full use of his damaged arm although unable to feel a couple fingers still for the most part it was fully recovered allowing the inquisitor to make a remarkable return. (I/N) also continued to train under Dorian to learn how to be a mage something he seemed to pick up rather swiftly much to Dorian’s delight. Eventually the two had a small ceremony to make their union official including exchanging a pair of ornate silver bands that would tell anyone that they were a true pair.