#he is so grateful and also so sorry and now rapidly becoming so fond

[journey-to-the-attic]

Do you think IK or the brothers would ever find out about all the times she's died in past loops? Does Barbatos even know, would he tell them if he did?

i feel like barbatos would figure out pretty quickly that ik's appearance is an anomaly within the way things usually happen in the loop, and if i were to put an ironic torturing-him twist on this - potentially this is the first cycle where he 'gives up', i.e. takes a step back and doesn't try to interfere - so he realises that he's been making things worse the whole time by involuntarily causing ik's premature deaths

honestly i think he'd just keep it to himself entirely, out of guilt and also not wanting to ruin everyone else's mental states with the knowledge of these endless cycles that they haven't even noticed they've been trapped in. he doesn't see a reason to burden ik in particular with the idea that she's 'meant to be dead', so he doesn't say anything

though potentially ik herself becomes aware on her own, and barbatos admits what he knows upon being confronted. mayhaps one will become fully aware of the cycle upon death, but will forget by the next time it begins again, and ik (who cannot seem to stay dead ever) has another dies-but-is-brought-back-within-the-same-timeline experience that leaves her aware

alternatively we leave the poor kid alone and she breaks them all out of the cycle with the power of love and empathy, and barbatos just eventually comes to peace with the fact that he couldn't have ever done that on his own. maybe once he's sure they've broken out of the loop, he'd confide in diavolo, but even then he'd want to leave ik and the brothers in peace

(don't get me started on how the brothers would react if they became aware of the previous deaths. i feel like, as cruel as time is, they'd have been involved in a significant number of them - whether or not having done so directly, maliciously or carelessly - especially since poor barbatos is the one that keeps accidentally aggravating them)

[velvetlilith777]

It's Too Late To Turn Back Now...

Sebastian x Reader

Author's Note: It's finally finished! Once I had the idea for this I couldn't get it out of my head and had to give it to you guys, too. This is my first attempt at writing anything at all since high school, but the plot is cute I think? If you have feedback please be gentle lmao <3

Also, so sorry the reader is fem identifying in this! I'm hoping to write more gender neutral fics in the future once I feel more confident in my writing.

Synopsis: Sebastian had been your best friend for a couple of years now, but that's all it was. But if that were true, why did everyone else get a different impression?

Inspired by this post by @creativepromptsforwriting! 🖤

Divider by @bunnysrph! 🖤

CW: fem identifying reader (nothing super descriptive but she/her pronouns used), swearing, the concept of sex is mentioned exactly once passively, one instance of name calling, terrible grammar and sentence structure

Word Count: 10.6k

The autumn air was crisp and light as it breezed through your sweater. Making your way through a crowded main street in the heart of Zuzu city proved to be difficult even by yourself, but today you had others to keep safe and sound.

This was the first trip you'd been able to take to the city in what felt like forever. Having been way too busy with your farm and the order load from Lewis' needs for the valley's various festivals to even dream of making the trek back to the bustling streets you once called home. It was hard enough to carve out time to hear the new songs your best friends had finished for their newly successful band, or make it to the weekly game nights you had become so fond of. Your absence had left a noticeable empty feeling in your group, but your friends understood. Often grateful for the times you did make it to the usual hang out spots or managed to say a quick hi to them while you were out running off to your next obligation. But with the Stardew Valley Fair behind you, your busy season was rapidly winding down as the bitter months approached. There was only a handful of crops left working towards harvest, and your animals had been staying outside as much as possible since these would be the last days before they were shut in from the cold until spring came back around. All of this meant your morning chores were finally able to be completed well before the bus out of town opened for the day, allowing a much needed trip with your friends to the city to become a reality.

Though, it wasn't long into the bus ride before you remembered that hanging with your besties wasn't always a picture of stress relief.

When boarding the bus, you followed the trio to the back where you usually sat to be as secluded as possible. You had a decent relationship with Pam, but she was known to let things slip at the saloon if Gus failed to cut her off soon enough. The last thing anyone needed was Robin or Lewis knowing some of the things you had discussed.

There were barely enough people in the entirety of Pelican Town to fill the bus up, so on these trips each of you got a row to yourselves. You took your usual positions, Sam and Abby sat on the left side while you and Sebastian sat on the right. Within minutes of the bus moving, you realized there was a riff Sebastian had forgotten to tell you about. What you had missed was that Sam had slipped and spoiled the ending of the game Abby had been grinding out for months the night prior. Abby - who was justifiably upset - got immediate revenge by telling him the entire plot of the current season of the show you'd all been watching together. Sam had a tendency to fall asleep 15 minutes in and had yet to catch up, so you and Sebastian had been working overtime to not discuss anything he didn't know yet. So much for that.

As the jabs began to get more serious, you turned around to Sebastian with a puzzled look on your face. Seb shot back a look that said "shit, sorry! I forgot." He then began filling you in over text. He recapped and told you that even though they were even in terms of initial offense, they hadn't stopped there and had been bickering ever since. Dramatically, you rolled your eyes rolled into the back of your head, which caused him to let out a small chuckle. This wasn't the first or even hundredth time the two of you had been on the outside of their arguments, and neither one of them liked to stop until they'd had the last word.

Though the fights weren't missed, you missed your friends. It was just nice to be around them again even as your annoyance grew. There was no way you and Sebastian would be able to hear each other over the existing volume of shouting and the old bus engine, so you opted to talk over text while sending each other silent looks reacting to what you had just sent or read.

Out of the group, you two had the hardest time physically seeing each other, but that didn't mean you weren't constantly talking. You saw Abby the most, seeing how often you were at Pierre's for seeds (or emergency fertilizer for the flowers you were sure you had 3 more days to plant) throughout the busy season. Sam also was pretty easy to make quick small talk with, bumping into him practicing kick flips or playing with Vincent while you hurried into Cindersap Forest to harvest the wood you always seemed to be out of. While you were in the mountains pretty frequently on a mission in the mines, Sebastian was a programmer with deadlines just as strict as yours. Often locked in his basement typing away in a language that looked so foreign to you. Sometimes you'd get lucky and see him on a smoke break, which both of you enjoyed, but usually you tried to let him stay focused and caught up with him throughout the day over text. Sending memes or venting about anything and everything whenever one of you managed a spare moment was the norm. He was just someone you could have a consistent and casual stream of dialogue with.

The topics of conversation were small. Seb asking you about your animals, in particular how your void chickens affectionately named Hecate and Malice were doing. He had instantly loved them since their eggs mysteriously showed up at your farm one day. You noticed that he had changed his normal nose ring out for a black stud that glistened a little every time the light caught it. He said he'd been meaning to do it for a while and appreciated that you liked it. Small, comfortable conversation.

That's how it always was with you and Sebastian. Comfortable. It didn't matter how long you went without talking or what you were doing, there was a level of comfort that came with him that you had never felt with anyone else. That's not to say that you felt uneasy with the rest of your friends in Pelican Town. You knew and loved all of your neighbors - well, maybe not always Lewis, but you got along - and Yoba knows you were down to do anything and everything with Abigail and Sam. But something about the way you relaxed whenever Seb was around was different. And if you didn't know any better, you'd say he felt similarly by the way his shoulders visibly loosened when you made your way into the saloon on busy Friday nights.

The ride to Zuzu city wasn't terribly long, but it was long enough for the incessant squabbling from two of your friends to give you a headache. While Sam and Abby's fights were never actually harmful or that serious, they had a tendency to act like siblings and continually yap nonsense at each other. At some point during the ride the arguing had escalated to Sam having his ear yanked by Abby, which lead you to where you were now. Strolling through the bustling crowds of the city, arm linked with Abby's to keep her heading in the right direction. Sebastian had the same job with Sam hooked to his arm. They were still too focused on one upping the other person to safely keep up with you and avoid getting lost. You and Sebastian also served as a buffer between them which had done very little to get them to stop, but at least poor Sam's ear was safe.

After many crosswalks and a few honks from impatient taxi drivers, you could finally see your main destination in the distance. You and the much taller emo shared a sigh of relief and a slight smile over getting everyone there without too much trouble.

The plan was to visit all of your favorite store in the valley, Electric Park Comics and get dinner afterwards. The store was more of a hobby store in its current era than just a place to grab comics, making it a hit amongst your group. There was something for everyone, the comics in the front being what initially drew Sebastian into the shop on one of his late night rides a few summers ago. He'd also grown fond of the back left corner where they kept old copies of games from consoles past, even occasionally getting in a good condition console for resale from someone who was clearing out an attic. He didn't even realize that section was there until the first time he brought Sam, who found it instantly. The pair had made it a monthly occurrence to make the trip to see what new releases the store had in, until one night they decided to swing by with you and Abby after a successful bar show for Goblin Destroyer. They didn't even have a chance to tell you both that you could head to a store nearby instead of having to wait on them before you were squealing over a Sanrio display they'd never taken note of. The boys had also lost the pair of you after browsing because you'd managed to find a staircase leading to the second floor which housed an in depth occult assortment. After that night, it became a group routine to escape the stress and expectations that weigh on each of you in Pelican Town by heading to that hidden downtown shop and nerding out together.

Approaching the building, you shook Abby's arm and pointed excitedly. The front was decorated carefully with jack-o-lanterns and plastic skeleton statues. Paper cats arching their backs and glittery orange and black garland lined the display windows inside. The festive exhibit and your excitement were enough to get Abby's attention away from Sam's quips. The two of you started excitedly muttering and gasping over how excited you were for the upcoming holiday, and how thoughtful the owner's work was. Sebastian let out an affectionate laugh at the commotion you two were causing. He remembered when you first moved into the farmhouse that autumn was something you and Abby hit it off over immediately. It's was both of your favorite season and you were frequently giddy over anything to do with Spirit's Eve.

Sam was looking away, irritated that Abby didn't care to respond to his last cleverly delivered jab when Sebastian nudged him.

"Hey, what was that for?" Sam muttered under his breath.

"Dude, I know you're upset. But could you maybe just drop this stupid argument for now?" Sebastian said in a hushed tone, holding the blonde back a couple of paces from you. "We haven't been here since the Flower Dance as a group. I'd like to have a good time instead of you guys bitching about something that doesn't matter anymore."

Sam looked around the street and then over as you and the friend he was just insulting minutes earlier. You were still too busy discussing costume ideas and who would get scared in the maze to notice any of this happening. He sighed, realizing how hard it had been to actually get together over the summer despite having made so many plans. How excited each of you were that this had really made it out of the group chat. A slight twinge of embarrassment washed over him.

"Yeah, I guess you're right dude. Abby and I can't take back ruining things for each other but I guess we shouldn't ruin this too." Sam pinched the bridge of his nose realizing he'd also given himself a slight headache the last couple of hours. "I'm sorry."

"It's all good. This is just as much on Abby as it is you. She's just successfully distracted right now" Sebastian laughed.

The boys looked over at the two of you scheming ways to get Marnie to let Jas go in the maze with you this year and shook their heads knowingly at each other.

"Let's go in before they figure out a way to actually make that happen and I have to hear Vince cry about it" Sam chuckled.

He swung the door open. The little bell snapped you and Abby out of your festive ramble and both of the boys faked a gentlemanly usher for you two to go in first.

You walked into the shop and waived hi to the owner Henry as you shook off the chill from the outside.

"Long time since I've seen you miss" Henry smiled at you.

You let out a tired laugh. "Yeah, the farm has kept me plenty busy this year. Knowing the ropes made me too confident and I narrowly avoided biting off more than I could chew."

"Well you made it through. Sounds like you have a reason to celebrate." He let out a hearty chuckle. It was warm and reminded you of your grandpa's years ago.

"I sure do!" you beamed back at him.

You made your way over to the Sanrio section to debate which plushy of your favorite character you wanted to add you your collection this time. Sebastian came over to join you briefly before heading over to the comic aisles that would have his attention for the better part of the next hour.

"Hey, they've got new stickers this time." He motioned to a colorful assortment of little animals is various poses. "We should get matching ones for our helmets."

As you began walking over to look over the selection, the smile on your face turned into a frown. You realized in the whirlwind of the summer you'd forgotten all about the helmet that Sebastian had ordered you for when you accompanied him on his bike. His spare was cheap and clunky, he wanted you to have one a little nicer on the nights you were his backpack.

"Seb, shit I'm so sorry. I forgot you'd done that. I've been meaning to ride with you I promise it's just-"

He cut off your panic with a smile and a finger to your lips. "It's okay, it's not like it was running for a month anyways" he snorted at his own misfortune. "What do you think about these?"

He held up a pair of stickers, one being your favorite sanrio character and his being Badtz-Maru giving off some serious side eye.

"Those are perfect" you giggled at his choice, knowing how often you'd seen him give that same look to everyone you knew in town. "But I also like these" you showed him two carefully chosen frog stickers, both funky little guys. One had a knife with a mildly threatening aura and the other had a bow.

"Dude I didn't even see those!" His face lit up at the sight of his favorite animals in silly situations.

"So these ones then?"

"Nah, let's get both" he smirked as he gently ruffled your hair. "As long as I get the one with the knife."

"Oh, I was thinking you needed the pretty little princess frog myself" you smirked back at him.

From across the room Henry chuckled "she's right you know, it suits you."

Sebastian cocked an eyebrow his way. You'd forgotten he still hadn't let off the tough guy exterior around the shop's owner yet, giving off the same reserved energy he gave everyone outside of your group and Robin.

"I'm only teasing, kid. She'd fist fight you over the one with the bow and we both know it." Henry winked, responding to Sebastian's silent questioning.

You giggled at the interaction which caused him to raise an eyebrow back at you in retort.

"Hold on to these, will ya?" You nodded, Sebastian handed the Sanrio pair in his hand to you and headed over to the comic aisles to look at the newest editions.

Your attention turned back to the plushies you were initially interested in. After mulling over the options, you landed on one holding a little pumpkin, perfect for the season.

Heading upstairs to join Abigail in your shared love for the occult, you heard a snicker that you knew meant she was up to no good.

"Abs?" you called out reaching the top of the steps.

"Here! Come help me with something" she ushered by a grand shelf on the far wall.

Glancing around at the intricately designed candles used for different rituals and practices, you were enamored with the possibilities until Abigail spoke up.

"Which of these candles do you think I could trick Sam into thinking I'm putting a curse on him with?"

"Abs, you know that's not how that works" you let out an exasperated laugh.

"Of course I do, we practice together" she rolled her eyes. "But you know who doesn't? Sheltered little Sam."

Raising an eyebrow, you reminded her "just because Jodi is strict doesn't mean he's sheltered." It was true that Jodi didn't let Sam do a lot when he was younger, but Sam had done a lot of catching up in recent years, especially with you three as his friends.

"I know that but spiritual stuff still freaks him out. You've heard him muttering to Yoba when we play certain games. He hasn't shook all of what her and Kent drove into him."

And it was true. He wasn't good for anymore than 3 rounds of Phasmophobia before he needed a break and he refused to be the one to use the spirit box even if he was the only one left alive. But you still weren't sure that a candle would be enough to trick him.

"I don't know Abs. Maybe you should drop this fight? You already got even with him by ruining season 3. Besides, it's still just a candle."

"Yeah I could, but he threw hundreds of hours of my time down the drain with that spoiler and called my dad a 'rat faced bitch.' Which was clever but I'm the only one who can say that stuff about him!" she whined.

"Listen, you do what you're gonna do, but I won't help you" you put your hands up in surrender. "I just want a nice time with you guys before I have to finish out the rest of the growing season."

Hoping your words had some effect, you went to take a look at the crystal display to see if there was anything you couldn't find in the mines back home. Mostly pretty common stuff, but there was a particularly beautiful carnelian necklace that caught your eye so you decided to grab that as well.

Satisfied with your choices, you left back downstairs to see if the guys had found anything worthwhile. Not to your surprise, Sebastian had each new release of his favorite series in his arms and a new Solarian Chronicles notebook to run his campaigns out of. Sam was rambling on about a new album to him with a new game and a figurine of his favorite character from the last series you all played together in hand.

"Successful haul?" giggling as you cut Sam off from his speech while you motioned at Sebastian's armful of comics.

"S'pose. Wasn't planning on grabbing this much but I missed some updates I guess" he shrugged.

Turning to Sam, you asked him about the game he'd chosen.

"They didn't have the game I hoped for, but I wasn't holding my breath cause it's a popular release" the blond explained. "But the did have this one. I don't really know much about it, but Vince has been yapping about it for a while now. Figured I'd pick it up and it would give me a reminder to spend more time with him. Kinda been slacking on my older brother duties between the band and Joja lately." He let out a small sigh. Everyone knew how much his family meant to him, but he'd been having a hard time finding a new balance between his adult life and making time for the people he loved.

"That's really sweet, Sam. He's gonna love it!" You smiled warmly and nudged him in the arm.

"I thought so too" He grinned a smile of relief at you. "Oh, has anyone seen Abby?"

"She was upstairs still deciding on what she wanted when I came down here. I'm sure she won't be much long-"

You were interrupted by Sebastian grabbing the necklace you had picked earlier from your hand. While he surveyed it, Sam let you know he was going to check around and see if Abby was ready to head out yet.

"Which one is this?" the programmer looked inquisitively at you.

"Carnelian. It helps with courage and energy. Positive life choices and such. I have one on my vanity already but I thought it might be nice to keep one on me" you explained.

"I like it" he smiled and held it up near your face. "Makes your eyes a little brighter."

You grinned up at him, but the moment was cut off when you heard yelling from the back of the building. It was a panicked Sam yelling at what you knew was Abby to "get the fuck away from me!" You shared a tired look, knowing you'd have to step in.

"Un-fucking-believable" Sebastian muttered under his breath. The two of you followed Sam's shouts of terror through the maze of inventory. When you finally found him behind a tall shelf holding old Nintendo 64 games you grabbed his arm in an attempt to get him to calm down.

"Sam, what's going on?"

"THAT is what's going on!" He pointed to the wall where Abigail was rounding a corner, hooded by a cloak she'd managed to find somewhere and holding a black and red candle covered in pentacles. Tufts of purple hair were half covering her face while she muttered completely made up words in a hushed tone. She completed the bit by contorting her face in odd ways.

"Abby, knock it off" Sebastian huffed.

The drummer kept coming closer, causing Sam's panic to increase again. "Stop cursing me bro this isn't funny!"

"She's not cursing you, don't worry" Sebastian shook his head.

"Then why is she muttering shit holding that demonic candle? Sounds like a curse to me!"

Abby was feet away from the three of you now. You reached out and snatched the candle from her hands before she realized what was happening, eliciting and whiny "hey" from her.

"No she's not." you cut in reassuring the blond. "You can't curse someone with just a candle. Even if that was her intention, these are pentacles, not pentagrams. They literally just signify the elements. Seb's right."

"Well he wasn't right about me dropping our argument earlier. I should've known Abby would do something like this" Sam grumbled back.

"I did get him to stop" Sebastian looked at you irritated.

"What like this is my fault?! I told her not to do it and to chill out" you bristled at him. "She's the one that decided to find a cloak and commit."

"Well you could've been more effective is all I'm saying."

"Abby is grown and I'm not her mother." You felt your patience for this situation growing thin. "I wasn't even there when this shit started."

Abby spoke up before either of you had the chance to make this worse. "Guys, I'm sorry. I should've listened and stopped when we were even but he's just so fun to torment. Especially when he's ruined something for me."

"Abby for the hundredth time I didn't mean to." Sam cut in. "You know how I am, I forget who's played and seen what. I don't even remember to call my grandma, dude."

"Hey, I said I was sorry for not dropping it, okay? Are we good now?" she huffed.

Sam didn't look fully satisfied with her "apology" but thought better than to keep this going. "Sure, fine I guess. But only if dinner is on you for fake cursing me or whatever."

"Whatever, I guess that's fair."

With that, you all silently agreed to go pay for your things and head out. As you walked up to the register and sat your things down, you caught a mischievous glint in Henry's eye.

"You buying this necklace, miss?"

"Yeah, I need the energy these days" you joked.

"Oh I mean I just thought it's such a pretty piece, shouldn't your boyfriend be buying it for you?" he glanced at you with a smirk dancing across his lips.

"Boyfriend?! I don't have a boyfriend." The owner's statement had caught you so off guard that you were fighting not to stumble over your words. You turned around to your trio of friends to find them looking just as confused as you were.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" You turned your attention back to Henry, who was clearly a little flustered himself now. "I didn't mean - I just thought with the matching stickers and the way you guys look at each other. Not to mention you were just fighting like an old married couple in the back..." he trailed off before going back to ringing up your items.

Then it hit you. He meant Sebastian. He thought you and your best friend were a couple? You turned back to the group again to read everyone's faces. Sebastian was bright red and just as shocked as you were. However, the other two looked like they understood what he was saying. Only looking at each other for confirmation, they wouldn't look at either of you two.

You paid for your things and said thank you to Henry who was still a little embarrassed at his assumption. He eased up a little when you reassured him you'd see him much sooner this time as winter was coming up.

The four of you waved goodbye to the shopkeeper and headed back out into the chill of autumn. As your group began to navigate the streets in search of food, no one spoke. The lineup was in direct contrast to when you had arrived earlier, with Sebastian and yourself on the outside this time using Abby and Sam as a buffer for your embarrassment.

Thoughts were swirling around your head like the leaves in the city air. Why would he assume you were dating Sebastian? The comment about the way you look at each other really stuck out to you. And why wouldn't Sam and Abby acknowledge you once he elaborated? Because you and Seb were so close as friends, you'd never allowed yourself to even wonder if you liked him and you were more than sure he hadn't either. Surely this whole situation was just a one off case of Henry misreading your group, right?

After what felt like hours but in reality was maybe 10 minutes, Sam was the first to break the silence. "So we never decided where to go for dinner - any thoughts?" He cleared his throat like he was almost as uncomfortable as you and Sebastian were.

"That new burger place just opened this weekend? But that probably means it's packed" Abby responded. "We could always just stick to tradition and grab some Chinese?"

"Works for me!" Sam smiled.

At least a minute passed before he spoke again.

"What about you guys?"

You were shaken out of your trance when you felt an elbow lightly nudge you and realized the blonde was peering down at you.

"What? Oh sorry, yeah, that sounds good to me."

It came out in a stutter but you smiled back at him to try and reassure him you were fine. Sam knew you better than that, but he smiled back and turned his attention towards the only person who looked more uncomfortable than you did.

"Seb? You here?"

"Ye-yeah that's fine." he mumbled.

"Then it's settled. Chinese it is" Abby grinned.

The rest of the walk was just as quiet from Sebastian and yourself as it had been before the question of dinner was asked. Abby and Sam had filled the silence by talking about the latest gossip on Marnie and Lewis' failed attempts at a hidden relationship. Occasionally you'd giggle at some remark one of them made about the mayor and his commitment issues, but that was all you could manage.

The owner of the restaurant you usually frequented on these trips to the city greeted you with a smile. He did most of the cooking so you'd never actually spoken to him, but he recognized your group and had always been kind. You all smiled and waved to him before heading to take a seat at an empty table. The warmth of the restaurant and the aroma from the kitchen seemed to lighten everyone up, but there was still a twinge of tension in the air. Instead of your usual seating arrangement, you found yourself sitting next to Sam and across from Abby. It was a subconscious decision from everybody, but one everyone noticed. After you'd made your final decisions on your meals, everyone went right back to the usual dynamics.

"I'm paying, did you really need to order the damn menu?" Abby let out a laugh of disbelief at the amount of food the staff was placing in front of Sam.

"Maybe, but it's a small price to pay for what may or may not happen to my bloodline in the future" the guitarist cracked back with a mouthful of food.

Sebastian snorted a laugh at his remark which was the loudest he'd been in a while. While also letting out a giggle, your eyes locked for the first time since the comic shop. He gave you a half smile while a light wash of red colored his cheeks. He was fidgeting with his rings like he would do in most uncomfortable social settings, but not usually with your group. It was hard not to comfort him but you were well aware that you were the reason, so instead you smiled back and turned back to Sam. Not ideal, but it felt a little comforting to know he was in the same boat you were.

Conversation flowed easier after that. Sam insisted that he was getting closer to beating Sebastian at pool, which was denied by everyone else. Abigail ranted about her latest fight with her dad for going out to the Wizard's tower again. Goblin Destroyer had quite a few small shows they were asked to perform at throughout the winter, so you made sure to write those dates into your phone calendar. You had to miss their most recent show because it was your last chance to plant a full pumpkin harvest for Spirit's Eve and you'd been beating yourself up for it. Maybe the worst thing Abigail could've done was asked you if you wanted to hear the fun bits from that night, but you unknowingly said yes thinking you'd just hear about how much the crowd loved the band or the drunk shenanigans of a 40 year old man.

"....Anyway, after the final song I started taking apart my drum kit. I look over and the guys are sitting on the side of the stage and these two girls are almost throwing themselves at them" Abby snickered between bites of food. "They were so cool and pretty I almost warned them about the 45 minutes I was stuck listening to them argue about a plot point in their new Solarian Chronicles campaign on the bus! But then they all went somewhere together so I just kept packing up."

You felt all of the color drain from your face at the emphasis on 'somewhere together,' but you weren't sure why. If they really were so cool and pretty that Abby mentioned it - and Seb went with them. Fuck. That's your best friend. You should be happy for him! Why aren't you happy for him? Why is your stomach in knots?

As confusion and shame bounced in your head, you'd made yourself smaller and started picking at the skin on your fingers. Eyes focused on your hands twisting in your lap.

You didn't realize it, but Abby had been staring at you intensely for a minute.

"Alright. We gotta talk about it."

You peered up through your lashes, now aware that the whole table had been silent too.

"Talk about what?" Your voice came out sincere but barely above a whisper.

"This! Whatever is going on between you two" her eyes flicked back and forth between you and the emo on her side.

Sebastian huffed in annoyance. He was bouncing his leg and staring at the ceiling like he'd rather be anywhere else right now.

"What are you talking about? Nothing is going on" you insisted.

"Bullshit!" she immediately yelled, like she'd been waiting on you to say those exact words.

"Abby, I told you, I don't think they know" the guitarist cut in with a much more gentle tone.

"Don't know what?"

Abby scoffed at your question. You narrowed your eyes at her before turning your attention back.

"Sam, what don't I know?"

The blond looked at Sebastian who was still ignoring everyone's gaze, then turned to you and gave you a pitying side smile. "Henry isn't the first person to assume you two are together."

"Whaaat d'you mean?" Your eyes immediately fixed on Sebastian. His leg bounced even more aggressively as he shot you a look that read 'I don't fucking know either.'

Your eyes went back to Sam's as he spoke. "The other day, I stocking produce at work. Pam was grumbling while rummaging through the pairs I had just stacked" he sighed. "Anyway, so I go over to start fixing them when she's done and she turns to me and starts asking me like what Seb managed to do to get a pretty girl like that? I was lost bro. But then she started in about seeing him in a city and not out with the cows or whatever and I realized she meant you." An awkward laugh left his lips as he looked down at the table for a second. "But I immediately told her that we're all just a big group of friends! Then she mumbled something about me not having two pennies to clink around in my head and walked off."

"What does Pam know? I can't remember the last time the Saloon smelled as strong of beer as she does on a Wednesday morning" the emo puffed from his seat.

"Pam might be a drunk but the rest of Pelican town isn't" Abby sneered at him. "My mom said something about it the other day. Evidently she got the idea from the dance of the moonlight jellies when you two were sitting on the dock resting your heads on each other. Couldn't believe it when I told her you guys were just friends."

"My mom too. She won't ask me how you are anymore unless she's heard you out front while I'm out. She waits for Seb to come over because he always knows more than I do. Heard her muttering something about 'young love' to dad about it the other day."

Your eyes were bulging out of your skull at this point. "Your mom? I see her almost daily on my errands and she's never said anything?"

"Well she figured she'd let you guys talk about it in time or something I'm not sure. Dad came home and thought it was crazy Seb has a girl that looks at him like that and he hasn't 'wifed her up yet.' He dropped it though cause mom yelled at him." Sam awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't look at him like anything?! Seb's just my best friend and your parents are crazy" a high pitched laugh left your voice as you spoke.

"Yeah, that may be true," Abby interjected, "but Leah isn't. She came into the store when I was working the other day and asked me if she'd missed something. I guess he was brought up while you guys were on the dock in the forest and the way you talked about him... she just assumed" she shrugged.

You felt like you were in an alternate reality. Here you were, at dinner with your closest friends being told that the entire town thinks you're dating one of them. Was this all a dream? Did the spaghetti you grabbed from Gus last night not agree with you? A chuckle of disbelief slipped past your lips.

"Okay. Is there anything else? Another case of delusion you can think of?" Your eyes bounced between your friends who were making uncomfortable eye contact.

"Yeah." Sam coughed. "I wasn't sure I was gonna say this but, since neither one of you have taken this well I guess I should." He paused, flicking the guitar pick on his necklace finding the words.

"Spit it out, Samson" Sebastian grunted.

"Okay, okay. You know how Vince has started calling you Uncle to piss you off because he's convinced we're old?"

Sebastian nodded, not seeing where this was heading.

"He asked me on Monday if when you got married if he should start calling her aunt because of the joke, or if that was too mean because of how nice she is to him."

Sebastian stared so hard at Sam that he could've put holes through the poor guy.

"Oh my god" was all you could say. You could feel actual panic sinking into your chest with all of this information. Everyone in the valley really assumed you were dating and you'd never thought of him that way. What were you doing? Were you crazy? Were they crazy? Could you even keep a relationship with him after this knowing that your friendship had been so abnormal it fooled the people who were around you everyday?

Your friends broke the silence again.

"It's not just Henry and it's not that anyone else is wrong" Sam stated.

"Yeah. I mean, can you guys really not see that you act as if you're in a relationship? Like, minus the title and the kissing and fucking, you're there already" Abby let out a nervous laugh.

You made eye contact with them both and could tell she was sincere. They both were. Your friends agreed with everyone else.

Appetite now fully gone, you started collecting your things in any attempt to leave this situation. Sebastian had the same idea and went to the register to go pay for his meal. You dug in your purse in a frenzy to find your wallet so that you could leave a tip and head up front to pay.

"Hey, we didn't mean to upset you." A worried tone coated Sam's words.

"I know you didn't, but what the fuck did you think would happen? I've never thought of Seb that way and I know he hasn't thought of me like that either. And to find out it's the whole valley..." your panic was leading to tears. It wasn't sadness, it was the most overwhelmed and confused you'd ever been.

Finally, you opened your wallet only to realize you didn't have the right bills for an efficient tip. In an attempt to get as far away from tonight as possible, you whispered 'fuck it' to yourself and left what was the equivalent of a 60% tip. You had geodes to open tomorrow so it would be fine. You stood up abruptly, leaving Abby and Sam to murmur amongst themselves at the mess they caused and marched to the register.

Sebastian was standing there still when you made your way over. Tears were beginning to fall silently down your face despite your best efforts to hold them back. The anger you felt at yourself for crying right then only seemed to make it worse. As you approached the staff member with your card in hand, the programmer reached his hand out and place it along your lower back in any attempt to comfort you and pull you in.

"I already paid for us" he mumbled in your ear. "Let's take a breather before they catch up."

You both gave a half hearted smile to the owner as Sebastian whisked you out of the door. Inhaling deeply, the air was sharp in your lungs. Winter wasn't far off and the chill reflected that.

Standing silently side by side, you both took in the city lights and the night time bustle while trying to calm yourselves. Fresh air helping to ease your nausea and lower your heart rate a bit. You hadn't planned on being out this late, your sweater was no match for the climate. Noticing you folding your arms over in an attempt to block out the cold, Sebastian took off his leather jacket and tapped on your shoulders to let him put it on you. You obliged. Normally, you would've argued, insisting that he needed it more. But normally, that was met with him reminding you he had a hoodie and a long sleeve shirt on underneath it, which had been the case every cold outing since your first fall in the valley. He knew you'd miscalculate and he wasn't about to let you freeze.

Once the jacket was secure on your shoulders he resumed his place beside you. In sync, you both looked each other in the eyes. Your tears had slowed but were still falling quietly down your cheeks. Otherwise you were expressionless. So was he. Surveying each other didn't help because neither of you were allowing yourself to be read. All you two had was the assumption that the other's brain was running just as fast as yours was. You took each other in silently until you heard the restaurant door open. You knew it was Abigail and Sam finally coming out to head home, but you held each other's eye for a moment longer. Now that the duo had met up with you, you left for the bus.

Everyone stayed tongue tied on the trek home. After climbing on the bus, you slumped down in your seat and turned your overhead light off. The tension was thick and while you couldn't bare to speak, you also hated that your friends weren't. Opting to put your headphones in and listen to your favorite Spotify playlist on the way home to shut out the tension, you shut your eyes and let your mind run through your feelings as the music lulled you.

Something about Sam and Abby agreeing that you two acted like a couple stuck with you. They spent the most time around you and knew both of you more intimately than anyone else ever did. If everyone already say you as a couple, why didn't you? You remembered repeating the phrase "I've never thought of him like that" throughout the night... maybe you should try? Maybe that was the only way to work this out?

Your mind drifted to your favorite moments shared with him.

Days you'd carve out time to play video games with him in his room, he'd reach over and help you stay alive in the first person shooters you were always dreadful at. How he'd chuckle when he saw you accidentally bomb yourself for the 20th time that day and you'd elbow him to stop. You pictured how he always smiled warmly at you when you did that, even though you always followed it with an eye roll.

It was unspoken that within 5 days before a new growing season, you'd be over in his room while he worked. Notebooks, a calendar and your choice of caffeine sprawled out on his floor while you quietly mapped out where each crop, bee box and sprinkler would be most fruitful. Occasionally you'd grumble, stumped on what the best choice was. He'd always look away from his screen, pull you into his lap and ask you to elaborate on the dilemma before helping you through it. Somehow he always chose correctly.

When he did have downtime in between jobs, he'd come over to your farm to help in whatever way he could. It always ended up with him talking to your animals while you worked, but they all were glued to him so you didn't mind. Afterwards you'd sit on the porch and eat dinner together while the sun set. Talking about new dreams or thoughts on philosophy while you soaked up the last of the sun's warmth together. You swear every time that happened a new freckle would appear on him within a few days, but it didn't happen often so you couldn't confirm.

All it took was a text that you were sick, sore or having a bad mental health day for him to pack up his laptop, his mom's pumpkin soup and be knocking at your door. Despite being a recluse, he rarely got sick so he'd always work in your bed or on your couch with you lying against his side. Stopping anytime you needed water, medicine or to be told that everything would be okay and you'd get through it together. You'd watch tv or youtube when he'd finished while he rubbed your back and played with your hair until you fell asleep. He'd never leave until you woke up and he could see that you were better.

Rainy days spent frog hunting. Watching him light up telling you about the different species you could find throughout the valley. Sometimes they'd have distinct markings and you'd see them multiple times so you'd give them names and lore. The rain making you feel like children again, so you'd start play fighting until one of you was in a puddle, giggling and shouting like second graders the whole time. Robin always shaking her head when you inevitably trudged through her house soaking wet, so you'd both started changing back at the farm first.

Or what was maybe your favorite, when he needed his hair dyed. He never got it perfect when he did it alone, and Sam always made a huge mess of it so it wasn't long after you met that he had asked you to help. It was a frequent occurrence because he'd actually rather die than be perceived as a ginger. Whether it was your bathroom or his changed, but the routine stayed the same. You were always wearing his oldest band t -shirts together, you sitting on the sink laser focused on not missing a spot while music blasted. If you wanted your hair done too, he'd of course help you afterwards and go so slowly to make sure it was as perfect as you always did his. It always felt so intimate and you never failed to take note of how much softer and relaxed his features were in that moment than when you were out with others.

Your stomach fluttered but not from nausea this time. It was butterflies. Fuck. Of course it was. How did you not know how you felt about him? Remembering how you'd go out of your way to make him smile every chance you got. His first birthday as your friend, you spent money you didn't have on a sword upgrade to find obsidian because the usual frozen tear simply wouldn't do. The way your heart felt like it was doing a back flip anytime he looked at you, and had even when he asked you "of all places, why would you move here?"

Okay. So you did like him, but that doesn't mean he felt the same way.

You opened your eyes upon feeling the bus come to a halt. You realized you were already back at the bus stop by your farm, guessing that the trip went so quickly because of how hard you'd been thinking. You grabbed your things, stood up and waved a rushed goodbye to your friends before heading home. You hated to leave so coldly but your mind was a whirlwind right now and you had so much to untangle. Sebastian wasn't far behind in leaving for the mountain, which left Abby and Sam to walk each other home and talk about how worried they were for the friendship now that this was out.

Once you'd shut the barns up to keep your animals safe for the night, you unlocked the door to your house and picked up your cat. Burying your face in her fur for comfort helped ground you a little bit. After a couple of kisses, you plopped her down on the couch and kicked off your shoes. Your music was still helping to combat your mind from going haywire, so you opted to keep your headphones in as you padded to your bedroom to change from the cute outfit you'd planned out for two weeks in favor of something more comfortable. Grabbing your comfort hoodie - it was old merch from your favorite artist - and a pair of sweatpants from your dresser, your mind began to drift back to that question you left unanswered as you pulled back into Pelican Town.

Does he feel the same way about me?

You began to replay those favorite moments in your mind again, searching him for clues one way or the other.

As you began to change, you remembered how when he'd help you stay alive in a video game, he was so gentle with you. After he'd succeeded in stopping your demise, his arms always lingered longer than they needed to. Okay. Coincidence.

You headed to the bathroom to brush your hair that was in knots after being out on such a windy day. Thinking back, he'd never complained about you setting up camp in his room to do planning you easily could've done in your own living room? Maybe that was because it operated as body doubling. But he always pulled you into his lap if you needed help. You couldn't think of an excuse for it so you counted it as a point towards reciprocation.

Leaving the bathroom, you made your way into the kitchen to give your cat her nightly treat. As you sat on the floor with her favorite puree in hand, you pondered how many of his off days he had spent helping at your farm. He hated the sun and had no idea what he was doing, but he never complained. Looking at your cat licking away at the treat, you decided that it wasn't you he was coming over for, it was definitely the sweet lives that roamed your property. I mean of course it was, look at this one.

But what about when you were sick? You didn't even know how to begin to write that one off. Maybe just being a good friend? But it was every time you told him something was wrong enough that you could only feed your animals before getting back into bed. Even if he couldn't get out of work, he went through the effort of bringing it with him. Okay, another tally.

By now, the treat was gone and you'd been petting the little lady for a while. You stood up from the floor and began filling your water bottle and grabbing a snack for when you crawled into bed. Frog hunting was easy to discredit, that was just two friends enjoying nature together and being a little silly. Okay, it's 2 to 3 right now.

As you headed to your bed to take your dishes to your nightstand, yours and Seb's favorite song came on your playlist. The one you always scream sang together when it played. You giggled as you remembered dramatically acting out the lyrics in your kitchen while you made sashimi. That was the last time you'd dyed his hair. Setting your water bottle down by your bed, you remembered how the last three times you'd helped him, he kept staring at your lips and making you think you had something in your teeth. Each time you'd discreetly check and you never did, but it was weird enough you noticed it. In the following nights you'd been reading Elliott's second novel before bed and the main character did this before kissing his love interest. He didn't want to kiss you, did he?

You started to climb into bed and follow that thought when you remembered you'd forgotten to take your makeup off. Begrudgingly, you crawled back out and started to head towards the bathroom again. The song was reaching the climax before the bridge that was always your favorite part as walked through the living room towards your destination. Your eyes landed on a doll that you had bought yourself because Jas owned her best friend and she loved coming over and playing pretend with you when you weren't busy. You stopped dead in your tracks as you stared at the toy. It felt like someone had punched you in the gut.

You were immediately taken back to the end of summer. The two of you had spent the evening after work and school twirling in your sundresses in the forest like you were fairies. Jas asked you if you'd help her with her evening animal chores before heading home and you were never one to tell her no unless you had to. While you were brushing one of Marnie's cows, you remember Jas had asked you a question that you now realized you misunderstood. You thought the question came from the fact that Vince was still young and tormented Jas more than he should, but that wasn't the case.

"Do you think when we're older and grown up that Vincent will be my Sebastian?"

She had asked you with such a shy smile you weren't soon how you didn't understand this sooner. Jas was like your little sister, you should've known that she isn't normally shy about anything around you. She was also incredibly observant. This was the tipping point. There was no way this wasn't a fever dream.

Taking off your makeup could wait. You needed to go for a walk.

You threw on your farm boots so any mud from recent rain wasn't something to worry about and hurried out the door.

You began to take the shortcut from the farm to the mountains like usual when your brain was spinning, but then stopped. Realizing if Sebastian was going through half of what you were, he'd be smoking at the lake and he needed his space too. You turned on your heel and decided the beach was where you'd go to figure this out instead.

Your pace was almost a speed walk, itching to sit down and sort through the tangled wires that were whatever the fuck this mess was of a relationship with your best friend.

Finally, you saw sand. Waves crashing down flooded your ears, telling the story of a storm that hadn't yet hit the valley. Careful not to make too much commotion and wake the writer that inhabited the run down cabin, you crept across the small wooden bridge to the secluded beach across a stream. It was pitch black out save for the moon illuminating the ocean. You turned your phone flashlight on to make sure you were avoiding the tide pools. As you made your way down the dock, you saw a small glow of orange coming from a figure sitting at the end of it. Occupied, great.

You started to turn and walk away when you heard a clear "Hey!" coming from the person you'd interrupted. Turning back towards the ocean you realized the glow was a cigarette and you knew the voice you'd just heard. Even better, it's the person you're in a frenzy over.

You made your way down the ancient wooden slats until you were standing next to where he was sitting, dangling his legs off the side.

"You look cute" smoke left his mouth as he spoke, looking up at you.

Remembering that you were going for bedtime panic and not style, you snorted. "Suuure, thanks. It's the boots, isn't it?"

He smiled and shook his head, the smoke exiting his nose this time. "You been thinking?"

"Yeah. Since we left Zuzu. You?"

"'Course. Hard not to when your friends hit you with something like that" he looked up at you, a soft smile creeping across his lips. "Figure anything out?"

You closed the space between you and plopped down next to him, crossing your ankles and pulling your knees up under your chin. "Well, I knew, and then I didn't know. Then I thought I knew, but I didn't know, so I was thinking, and now I think I know but I'm still not really sure" a tired laugh left your chest after you spoke.

Laughing with you, he shook his head and began putting his cigarette out. "Yeah, that's one way to put it."

A comfortable silence found its way to the two of you again as you sat and watched the ocean. You weren't sure what was right or wrong to say here. It felt like your friendship was at jeopardy but also, like nothing was ever wrong to begin with. That old feeling of ease you felt whenever you were with him washed over you regardless of the stakes at hand.

You decided there was no more point in putting it off. You'd been out in a position you didn't think was possible 12 hours ago. Now that you were here, you couldn't see it as a valid reason to start omitting things from him. That alone would change your friendship from what it had been forever.

"I think I know how I feel. No, I know that I know how I feel." You felt so shaky despite managing to sound so confident in your statement. "I'm just not sure about the rest. I remembered something Jas said to me that has me thinking I know the rest but... that's not enough to convince me I'm right."

The emo looked down at you and smiled. Softly, he said "an elementary schooler is where you're finding your strongest sources of evidence?"

"Shut up" you giggled. "Just because she's quiet around you and everyone else ever doesn't mean you should discard her thoughts. She's incredibly intelligent and observant" you poked back.

"I'm not discarding her. Just thought with everything else that her being your biggest form of proof was funny, s'all." He let out a soft, warm chuckle. "I know how I feel too. I have a guess about the rest but my basis of reason is fully in my head alone and not from the mouth of a child," he teased, "so it could just be delusion."

"I would say that you aren't delusional, but after today I can't confidently say that about anyone" you laughed.

It's too late to turn back now. Might as well put everything out on the table.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Always, angel. What's up?"

You paused. "Remember the last time we dyed your hair?"

He snorted and looked away from you, choosing to stare at the waves instead.

"Did I say something wrong?" you felt anxiety ping at your chest. Were you wrong? Should you shut up now?

"No, no" he hushed you. "It's just crazy for you to bring that night up." He looked away again, swallowing a deep breath. "When you showed up here, I was thinking about you sitting in front of me on the counter, so focused on making sure I looked good. Wearing one of my old shirts mouthing the words to our playlist. Your lashes were fluttering as you looked up at me and just -" he choked on a breath. "Fuck dude. It just hit me like, yeah. Actually I know how I feel."

His head turned to look the opposite way of you and started lightly tapping out a rhythm against the dock. The hard part was over for you, but not him. He had no idea what you were about to say and even though you knew he was anxious he was trying not to show it.

You put your legs down and leaned closer to him, the added feeling of you making him turn back towards you.

"I think that night is why I know too."

He blinked back at you. "You mean lik-"

"I was thinking about that night - those nights - while we were on the bus." You realized you were speaking so fast and tried to slow your words. "I don't know, I just never realized how intimate and I guess right they feel? You don't let anyone near you even emotionally, and then there I am. Helping you with something that makes you feel like who you are, bodies borderline intertwined because I need to make sure I get it all dyed. And you always look down at me with this look on your face and when I think about it my stomach flutters and"

Your frenzy was cut off by the realization of how close your faces had gotten. Sebastian was straight faced, locking your eyes with his dark brown ones. Your noses were brushing against each other as he spoke.

"It's happening again" he muttered plainly.

"Huh?" came out as a squeak from your throat.

"I don't think I knew it fully," he inched closer to you. When he spoke again his lips were ghosting against yours "I think I've wanted to kiss you for a while."

"But you still haven't done it" you whispered back.

Your lips met in a soft, tender kiss. It felt treacherous, yet like this was where you had always belonged. Sebastian reached up and cupped below your ear with his hand, thumb rubbing your temple while he deepened the kiss. You grabbed his arm and your other hand searched for his free one, locking fingers when you found it. When you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead on his, giggling. He smiled back at you. Both of you went to speak and just ended up kissing again, unsure of why this felt so right and how you'd went so long without doing it.

The day before Spirit's Eve had you feeling like you needed to be everywhere, all at once. You had to drop off last minute supplies to Abby for your costumes. Lewis had told you that the Wizard did in fact need more pumpkins so you needed to get them fully harvested and ready to be dropped off the next morning. Jas needed last minute opinions on which costume she wanted to wear which would entail an entire fashion show and you promised Willy a fresh Salmon before the snow hit which was 3 days away.

You weren't sure how, but you'd managed to pull it all off by the time the sun set, leaving plenty of room to fulfill your last obligation; dying your boyfriend's hair. You'd noticed an orange twinge when you were out by the lake yesterday and there was no way he was going to the festival looking like that.

You'd already changed into an old shirt he'd left in your room when his motorcycle rumbled in front of the farmhouse. The engine cut, then there was a familiar voice saying hello to your cat. He headed to your room to change into more suitable clothes in case any dye got on them, while you hooked up the speaker and hit play on your shared playlist. Instantly, your ears were filled with the sound of that favorite song, the same one that had been so pivotal in bringing you two together.

You hopped up to your seat on the counter and called out "Sebby!"

He padded into the bathroom, face softening to that same expression that you now knew was love when he entered the doorway and saw you.

"Yeah, babe?"

"I think now's your chance" you teased.

He laughed and made his way against you, leaning down for a kiss. "Yeah, I think it is."

[the-kingshound]

ROs reactions to MC becoming a cold and calculated killing machine because of the torture with RO now being their only soft spot?

Ohh, anon, I love this ask and since in game action will have permanent consequences I will make a follow up of this scenario so every RO's MC has been through a different kind of torture. It got a bit long, sorry, I kept writing and writing!

Arthur

When the Knights see you, they bow.

"Your Majesty."

You nod in their direction, signing them to raise. You then unsheathe your sword and stare at them with a pragmatic, focused glance "follow my lead."

You join the battle only after the second wave, attacking from the side and rapidly gaining the upper hand. When no more opponents stand in the field but injured and dying fighters, your chest heaves and your sword drips crimson blood from the tip.

"Your Majesty, a couple dozens of rival soldiers are retreating in the woods."

Your voice betrays nothing but a cold type of control when you answer "get the heavy chivalry to chase them. If possible, we take prisoners."

"Yes, your Majesty."

Arthur will be here shortly, you think just before you start metodically cleaning your sword to sheathe it. Your King, as you predicted, reaches your small group of knights shortly after. He seems to glow like a majestic, regal vision in the bright daylight. You can never get enough.

As you approach his knights, between rigid strides you crouch down briefly to pick up something from the grassy field. You have most of the knights eyes on you as you get near your husband and offer him a daisy.

He takes it with a radiant light in his eyes, you know that the softness there is more than reflected in yours. You plant a soft kiss on his cheek before you retreat.

"For you, my King."

And when Arthur keeps you close at night in your shared bed, holding your hand and kissing your knuckles one by one, you know you you could lose you fingers and your ability to wear his ring, but never his unrestrained, blinding love.

Evaine

Arthur strides through the castle's halls with his usual composed demeanor, exhuding a reflective sense of peace that is only exterior. Inside, he is worried and scared. Ever since the kidnapping, you've been cold and distant. More focused, in a way, calculated when you would have hesitated before. No matter the thin scar that marked your face or the limp that now slowed you down in combat, you were merciless. Arthur just wants you to feel safe again.

He rounds the corner and stops in front of his knight's door. He knocks and recieves no answer, probably because of the sound of more than one voice inside. Slowly, the King opens the door, calling with a soft voice "Evaine?"

The sight that greets him is... unexpected.

Evaine's room is drowning in garments, dresses, robes and cloaks are all over the bed and the large vanity. You're standing in front of the mirror, Evaine is just behind you, their finger ghosting on your skin as they tie a golden neckerchief around your neck.

As soon as Arthur's presence is noted, you clear your throat, molding your expression back in a neutral one, but not quite as closed off as the one you always wear.

"So, how do I look?"

You turn around to let him see the dress in its entirety, the wip scars quite visible on your back. Arthur's pained grimance fades quicky in favour of a soft, sincere smile "you're stunning."

His attention is then on his knight. Evaine is radiant, more relaxed than he's seen them in a very long time. More... present. They've not been well for the past months.

"You wanted to talk to me, my King?"

"Yes," Arthur nods "since I had to reschedule some of today's appointments, your schedule has been rearranged. You have the rest of the afternoon free."

If that's not entirely the truth - Arthur was in need of a Knight for the squire training, but it was also true that it has been too long since he's had fun with the younglings - no one needs to know.

And with a cheeeful "have fun" he's out of the room.

You look at the dress you're currently wearing in the mirror one more time, than turn back and take another robe, soft and tighter fitting, from Evaine's wardrobe.

"How about this?" you ask them.

"Mh," they hum, giving it a very serious assessment "it would compliment your eyes perfectly. And it's not that heavy compared to the previous ones."

You send them a blinding smile, trowing your arms over them in a playful hug, than you let them help you hastly put it on.

Sometimes you forget yourself to the memories and the freezing phantom of a long gone pain, but everytime Evaine is there to bring you back, offering distractions that bring you joy and happiness. That night Evaine tells you you're the most beautiful and bright star in the sky and, for the first time since the kidnapping, you believe them.

Morien

Whispers of the King's hound gone rabid have all but taken hold of the settlements near Kev, the last town to know your uncontained fury as your informants found some dissidents nobles. You made sure not to leave the town unscathed to be of warning for whoever next dared to conspire against the King.

There are frightened voices murmuring of an heartless punisher, what they recount are mostly exaggerated distortions of true events, but they do get right the almost lifeless glint in your eyes as you write down orders.

At this point, even some knights are scared of you, of the seemingly merciless way you stare down at them without ever breathing a word. There is only one person able to get past the coldness that replaced your lost tongue, and it's the court physician.

You are currently in Morien's arms, buried in the familiarity of their scent that is secure and grounding. This feels like a rare privilege for how much Morien usually shyes away contact. With you they have reached a level of comfort, through, that sees you gifted with the warmth of their body whenever you need it and you couldn't be more grateful for that.

"Plans for today?" they ask you a rough but comforting tone of voice.

Frighten the knights, you sign and instantly they let out a humored chuckle.

"Alright, you have my attention. How do you want to proceed?"

Just tell them I want to see them all in the courtyard. They skipped training yesterday and went out drinking to celebrate. you let out a voiceless hum  I'm not really mad but they don't know that.

Morien's laugh is brief but sincere "well, let's go then."

And as you get ready, you tie a red ribbon to your wrist, very alike the ones that sometimes Morien themselves ties to their cane. The physician looks as it and then their eyes are fixed on your face with a mixture of emotion that is both fondness and tender adoration. You shrug, then offer them your arm as you walk in silence through the halls in the courtyard's direction.

Gwyar

The mark has made very difficult for people to meet your eyes and watch you in the face. You don't hold it against them, though, you know you're not an easy sight. The only ones in this room who can actually stomach it are Arthur and Gwyar, and while the King can hardly suppress the guilt, your manservant has managed to push it down in favour of their usual attentive posture.

With a fluent movement they are beside you, refilling your cup of whine and whispering in your ear with a bland tone.

"Lady Deva is under the impression that a necklace has been stolen by the less than reputable Lord Havet."

Your interest piqued, you arch a brow in their direction, only to catch at the corner of your eye the sparkling of jewelry.

Careful to mantain a neutral expression, you subtly extend your arm in their direction with the open palm facing upwards. Gwyar lets the necklace fall in your possession with an effortless movement, then they fall back behind you with the grace of a liquid shadow they've always possessed. No one seems to have noticed the brief exchange.

It does take the meal to finish before finally some action unfolds. You register Lady Deva bringing her fingers to her empty collarbone and instantly her eyes snap to the Lord at her side.

"How dare you" she hisses, low enough not to make a scene but with enough vehemence to make him reel back.

"My Lady, I sincerely don't know what-"

"My necklace."

"What of it?"

By now the altercation has managed to attract most of the other nobles attention. The argument gets heated quickly and as the situation unfolds you fail to contain a wicked grin. Arthur, to your left, is surprised by it ony for a second, then he catches the feral glint in Gwyar's eyes, just behind you, and he has to bring a hand to his mouth to suppress a laugh of his own.

Taking pity on them, you clear your throat, your voice steel cold but not unkind "did it have by chance an engraved pendant?"

The scraped sound of your voice, a bit rough from unuse, is enough to snap the entire room to silence and attention. The lady's eyes widen as she watches you extract the necklace out of your robe, her eyes immediately falling off your face as her expression contorts into a mixture of embarassment and fear.

"I found it just outside of the chamber, in the hall."

"Ah, I- I probably lost it" the lady stammers and you have to figh your lips from curling upwards as another wave of hilarity hits you.

That night, Gwyar is so undeniably proud of your performance you can only laugh with them and take them in your arms as you both fall on the bed. They let their gaze wonder on your face and they breathe out a raspy praise. You are motionless as they kiss your mark and you think in that instant that you'd let it happen only with them. Only with them - and the phrase holds a strange type of comfort.

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 35: Blessing

Sorry about the wait (...again lmao) But I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think! (also - this is the last one before the meeting between Maeve and Aelin! We really are getting close to the ending!)

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

For the first time, seemingly in weeks, Rowan awoke with a clear head.

Today, they would leave Mistward. In the week that had passed since his…cadre’s…departure, the fortress had gotten no word from the capital. No summons, no orders. This did not comfort him.

Maeve knew everything, she had to. But instead of choosing to strike, she was biding her time. She knew that he had to return to Doranelle eventually. It was not to her advantage to drag them home early, and against their will.

As Rowan walked about their rooms, gathering various belongings, he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened upon the cadre’s return to the city. Couldn’t help but imagine what they had been forced to endure on his behalf.

Aelin stirred in bed, giving Rowan the chance to shake away those thoughts. He took it gratefully.

The princess sat up, her golden hair rumpled. Cloudy eyes found his. “It’s time to leave. Isn’t it?”

Rowan only nodded.

Within half an hour, they were ready to depart, and found themselves standing at the kitchen door, saying their goodbyes to Emrys, Malakai, and Luca.

Somewhere to his right, Aelin was enduring a torrent of worry and affection from Emrys, all while the old male shoved more food than Rowan thought was in the entire fortress pantry into her rapidly-filling pack. Rowan was facing Malakai, who seemed to be struggling to figure out what exactly to say.

The prince decided to take pity on the male. “It has been an honor, Commander,” he said firmly, with a slight bow of his head.

Malakai’s body jerked, his scent speaking of surprise. “…the very same, Your Highness.” The old commander also bowed his head, respect lining his brow.

A small smile graced Rowan’s lips as he backed away, allowing Aelin to say her final goodbyes without any interference.

The princess was looking at the three males, her brow furrowed with anxiety but her scent warm with affection. “It might take a while,” she was saying, “but if – when, I reclaim my kingdom, the demi-Fae will always have a home there. And you two – and Malakai – will have a place in my household, should you wish it. As my friends.”

Emrys’ eyes were gleaming as he nodded, gripping Luca’s hand. Malakai let the ghost of a smile intrude on his resolute expression. Rowan had to hold in a grin at the sight – the gruff commander really had let this female worm into his heart, whether he had wanted it or not.

Luca was openly staring at Aelin, his eyes filled with wonder. Rowan was not sure whether he had ever truly understood who he had spent all those weeks toiling beside in the kitchens. But there was no doubt in his mind now – this was a future queen standing before them. And no longer could anyone easily forget it.

Pride at everything Aelin had accomplished coursed through him. Pride and fondness. He had known that he loved her, deep in his heart, for days – weeks, really. Ever since he saw her looking back at him through the Valg darkness, and she smiled at him, with that Queen’s smile.

Aelin reached out and ruffled Luca’s hair, a warm smile stretching her cheeks. She made to turn and join Rowan at the edges of the trees, but before she could Emrys spoke up.

“Your mother would be proud,” he said. Aelin put a hand on her heart and bowed her thanks. Rowan knew without even needing to taste her scent that words wouldn’t be capable of communicating the depth of her gratitude.

But the morning was beginning to wane, so he cleared his throat softly. And Aelin gave the three males one last parting smile before she followed him into the trees.

Their feet were light as they padded over the leaf-dusted earth, their speed increasing until they were once again streaks of gold and silver through the misty undergrowth. Only this time, their path headed up the mountains to the east, in the direction of the rising sun. To Maeve, at last.

···

The whipping was no more than he deserved.

Lorcan didn’t have to say it out loud to know that it was true, though he’d found himself repeating it over and over again in his head over the past two days. Days that he had spent tied to a post in the stocks, being whipped by Cairn.

There was no warning before Cairn entered the small, muddy yard. No time for Lorcan to prepare. All of a sudden, he would feel a breath at his back, would hear the slight pull of feet in mud, and then the iron would rent his back.

Cairn worked at him for what felt like hours at a time, his every stroke of the whip coated with gleeful mutterings and shouted taunts. Lorcan knew that the vile male took every possible pleasure in having such power over him, that every sound he made would be played over in Cairn’s mind for weeks or months to come.

So Lorcan kept as silent as he could, each stroke of the whip becoming a vow of revenge.

He knew that he deserved punishment. But this, this was something different. This was personal. And Lorcan would take his vengeance on Cairn even if it took him unto the end of his life.

Mostly, Lorcan slept. And let the pain and rage consume him.

Even so, Lorcan couldn’t find it within himself to really regret the decision. The betrayal. Rowan had not lied – if they hadn’t come, Mistward would have fallen. They had saved him, and that fire-breathing bitch. This was just the price they had to pay.

But Lorcan wasn’t sure he would ever forget the sound of that word on his queen’s lips. Betrayal.

He had betrayed her. The one thing he had sworn never to do, not in his extraordinarily long life. And he had done it. When it came down to it, he had chosen Whitethorn’s life over his devotion to his Queen. Had chosen Rowan over Maeve.

And the truth of that decision shook him.

Maeve had found him in that hovel, those centuries past, had rescued him and nurtured him. Had made him into who he was. And yet he had betrayed her. It would be a long time before he would be able to reconcile that with himself.

He was her Second, her top commander, her most trusted confidant. He was responsible. The one in charge. He was at least as guilty as Whitethorn. He didn’t blame Maeve for her punishment of him, even as he hated Cairn for it. Even though he had betrayed his Queen, he could never hate her.

Ever since he had first beheld her, and felt the curls of her dark power brush his dark soul, he had loved her. There hadn’t been anything he could do about it. It was like they were made for each other, both creatures of darkness. Both Fae who stood alone and apart. Who were both loved, and hated, by those less powerful than they.

But she did not feel the same.

Her every rejection of him cut him to the quick. Lorcan tried not to let her see how much her indifference hurt him, but he knew that she knew. And that she gloried in it, in his suffering. Gloried in the way that they both knew this doomed courtship would never end, that he would never stop loving her, and she would never stop taunting him with that love.

Lorcan knew that she bedded Fenrys partially to spite him. Knowing that choosing him over Lorcan would hurt more than some noble, or courtier. And the fact that it worked infuriated him. But there was nothing he could do about it.

Other than perhaps be grateful that Rowan was her relation, however distant, and therefore could not be the blade of her choice. For it was certain that Maeve choosing Rowan to take to bed would hurt more than even Fenrys.

Rowan was his, not hers.

Or at least he was his. Not anymore.

Lorcan had lost Rowan to the clutches of some foreign whore. A bitch-queen from across the sea. And he had no idea how to get him back.

So Lorcan took his whipping with a curse, and a smile. Cairn was the least of his problems. And soon, Lorcan would ensure that the despicable male got what was coming to him.

Cairn left him there, bleeding on the stones, until day passed into night and then day again. And Gavriel and Fenrys came for him.

A key clicked in a lock, shackles fell into the mud with a thump, and Lorcan sagged to the ground, his limbs sighing in relief even as they wept fresh blood into the earth, red beneath his bloody body.

“Get him up,” Gavriel said softly, and Lorcan felt hands reach around his arms and pull him to his feet. “I’m sorry Lorcan, she ordered us not to heal your wounds with our power.”

Lorcan just grunted, forcing his legs to take his weight. They shook, but held. Fenrys began to guide him back up the path to the area of the palace that held their suites.

Lorcan frowned, but accepted the male’s assistance with as much grace as he could muster. He didn’t really have another choice.

“Anything to report?” Lorcan’s voice strained through gritted teeth. One step after the other, he said to himself, one step after the other.

“Nothing of any significance.” Gavriel shrugged. “We received word yesterday from the sentries that guard the western pass that the wolves spotted Rowan and Aelin making their way through the mountains.”

“So they are on their way to Doranelle.” Lorcan grunted.

“Evidently.”

“And when are they expected – ” he gasped, sucking in a breath through his teeth, “ – to arrive?”

“Within two or three days,” Gavriel said, soberly.

Fenrys, however, seemed to have a very different reaction. His scent filled with anger, and his muscles filled with tension, coiled to spring. He shook his head. “When Rowan gets here, I hope he suffers for what he’s done. I hope she drags him over hot coals for this.”

Gavriel turned in alarm, “Fenrys, you don’t – ”

“I mean it, Gavriel. I can’t wait to tell him what happened because he sent us those damned letters. To tell him that she tied Lorcan up in the yard and let Cairn – ”

“You will do no such thing.” Lorcan forced as much authority as he could into his pained voice. Fenrys frowned at him, confused. “You will not speak of this, not to Rowan, not to anyone.”

“But Lorcan – ”

“No, Fenrys. What’s done is done. There’s no changing it now. And it’s no use harping on about it like some upset child.”

Lorcan could feel Gavriel looking at him inquisitively, but Lorcan kept his eyes ahead, until they reached the familiar halls of the residential part of the castle and he shook off their assistance and told them to go and get some rest.

But before he could escape to his rooms, Fenrys tried to speak up one last time. “Lorcan, Rowan should – ”

“No, Fenrys. And I will not hear any more of this from you. You will not speak to Whitethorn about what happened here, and I’m tired of saying so. And if I find out that you defied a direct order, there will be consequences.” Lorcan stared him down, looking the young male directly in the eyes, until Fenrys nodded and turned away.

Gavriel nodded as well, and the two males left the stone corridor.

Lorcan collapsed facedown into bed, but for long minutes, sleep eluded him. He knew that within a couple of hours, or perhaps a day, his own magic would heal the wounds to his body. But right now, they hurt enough to keep him from sleep.

Rowan would have enough to face when he reached Doranelle, he didn’t need Fenrys attacking him at first opportunity as well. And the knowledge of what Maeve had done because Rowan had called for their aid…he didn’t need that weighing on his soul.

Rowan hadn’t really had another choice. He needed to save the fortress, and the demi-Fae. Needed to save the female he loved.

Lorcan turned over in bed, the sheets rustling as he groaned in pain. If Lorcan knew nothing else, he knew how far one would go for the one they loved.

···

Rowan awoke with the rustling of leaves, and the flicker of a breeze over his cheeks. It whispered of birds chattering, a far-off stream, of the coming dawn, and of the countless dreams of slumbering Fae, hidden just from sight.

He rose slowly, his eyes automatically flicking over to his left side to check on the female who was still slumbering there. Aelin’s eyes flickered beneath her lids, her brow furrowed and her mouth open, letting the occasional bated breath escape. Telltale signs of nightmares haunting her sleep.

Rowan frowned and stood. There was nothing he could do, and she needed all the sleep she could get, even if that sleep was restless. Today, she would meet with the Queen of the Fae, and show her all that she had learnt.

They had camped that night at the top of a hill, at the bottom of which you could see the rivers that would lead them through the rest of the valley and right up to the stone walls of Doranelle. Rowan strode through their small camp, heading east to where the first glints of the rising sun could be gleaned over the ruffled edge of the horizon.

Below him, the river water churned, gray and violent and deep. Surely a promise of what was to come.

Today, he would see Maeve again. For the first time in months. For the first time since he had realized the true depth of what he had given up the day he swore her the blood oath. Rowan wondered how long it would take her before she knew that she had lost him forever. Wondered if she already knew. Surely Lorcan and Gavriel had told her what happened at the ward-gates? Surely she must have guessed?

Either way, all would be decided before nightfall. Relief and panic warred within him, fighting for dominance. Both held fast.

Rowan turned to glance back at the queen – his Queen – shifting on her bed of leaves, close to wakefulness. She was so beautiful. Everything he wanted, and everything he couldn’t have.

But something that he just had to save. Someone he had to save.

Desperation began to overflow within him, breaking through the final barriers of ice surrounding his heart. And then, as he turned back to face the now-rising sun, it happened.

At first, it was just a brush, like a trail of burning fingertips, across his brow and down his cheek. Then the feeling of a Presence. Greater and more terrible than he had ever thought to comprehend. Greater than any he could possibly imagine.

She was the sun and the stars and the hearth and the candleflame, the great and the small, the important and the insignificant. She was more than any would ever know, more than thousands of years of worship could appreciate.

She was Mala Firebringer.

And like a sunbeam though the morning dew, she appeared before Rowan Whitethorn, Prince of Doranelle, Lieutenant and second to Lorcan Salvaterre, and bloodsworn to Maeve, The Queen of All the Fae, a silent question ready on her lips.

What ails you so, Prince of Ice?

Rowan wanted to fall to his knees, to avert his eyes, to fall into some remembered prayer from childhood lessons. Yet he was frozen in place.

She was barely more than an outline, a shaft of light enclosed in the rising sun, but he felt her mighty power and strange gentleness as potently as if she were standing right next to him. And that mighty power felt…familiar. Like something he had already learned to love.

So Rowan breathed in her unknowable scent and offered up his desperate prayer.

Rowan Whitethorn begged the Goddess of Dawn to protect Aelin Galathynius. To keep her safe from Maeve when they entered Doranelle, to give her strength and guidance, and to let her walk out alive.

And yet Mala waited. Her question still unanswered. A hidden truth not yet acknowledged.

So Rowan unlocked that final door, and told Mala what truly weighed on his heart. Not for Aelin to survive, or to leave safely, having secured her armies and her peace. But for them to stay together. For Rowan to remain with Aelin, the woman he loved. Here or in any other world.

And as he admitted that, the deepest truth of his heart, Rowan felt the goddess smile at him, across time and space, through other worlds and bearing the prayers of thousands, as she disappeared into the brightening sun.

Aelin awoke, and moved to stand beside him. She cast him a questioning look, which he left unanswered. He didn’t know if he could explain what had just passed. But he knew that it had been something permanent, unchangeable.

They packed up camp and began to scale the hill, following the rushing river back to its source. To Doranelle they went, for their futures to be decided. To Doranelle, where a dark Queen lay in her spider’s web, waiting to pounce. To Doranelle, with the grace of a goddess bestowed upon them, their blades sharp, their steps light, and their eyes bright with star fire.

To Doranelle.

···

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[softlyjiminie]

black swan | two.

⇢ pairing(s): professional dancer!park jimin x figure skater!reader.

⇢ word count: 4K.

⇢ rating: 16+, mature.

⇢ genre: angst, eventual smut, fluff, e2l, fake dating!au, corrupted idol!au, dancer!au, figure skater!au.

⇢ summary: a life of skating was all you’d ever known, your heart craving the feeling of ice beneath your feet and the light brush of cool air against your skin under thousands of sparkling lights… what a shame, if only you’d known that one night, one accident could rip you from the life you’d grown to love, leaving your career in the unsteady hands of the prince of ballet, park jimin.

⇢ warning(s): please read for this chapter! angst, taetae on the verge of tears, angry joon, soft jungkoo, yoongi cursing and emotional distress rip.

⇢ author’s note(s): hey everyone!! chapter two is finally here, im so sorry for the delay :( i had a run in with t*mblr and they were hiding all my works from tags! it should be okay now so i hope you like <3

⇢ previous | series masterlist | next

taehyung sits quietly as he watches the tea cup to your left, lose its steam— the heat fading like the light that usually emanated from you. eyes falling to his lap, the skater’s fingers curl in the paws of his— joon’s... black sweater as a guilty feeling settles in his chest. his fingers were itching to reach out and take hold of your hand, but taehyung knew that you would only push him away, locking yourself behind a door and falling away into an empty shell. part of him was glad that you wouldn’t let him touch you; in fear that he’d break you again just like that day on the ice, whilst the other half missed his best friend, whom he’d drown in his arms and fond touches. he missed his YN.

taehyung was grateful that namjoon didn’t mind your affectionate relationship, how tae’s large palm would settle on the small of your back or how his lips would brush against your cheek or your hairline. it was something that gave you both comfort, and namjoon understood that— after all you had been there for each other in the darkest of times while the man himself was studying in the US. nonetheless, taehyung was restless. he needed to know if you were okay, he needed to hold you to tell you it was going to be okay.

but you were too far gone in your own little world, trapped in your chair that was tucked away in a corner by your old fashioned TV (in which he’d begged you to  replace because he hated the static noise it made on certain channels), watching old performances of yours on vhs from when you were younger— you’d switch to your laptop from time to time to watch more recent ones. the chair had become your safe space, since you refused to walk around on your new crutches, all motivation lost with the end of the skating season approaching.

taehyung was worried, really worried.

he knew you ate less, a tired grey tint to your skin casting a shadow over your usually glowing tones. he knew because he’d brought all the teas and pastries you loved to snack on, with each of them growing cold. “please eat baby,” the boy tries, quietly prompting you to take a bite of the cream puff he’d brought this time. “just a little.”

you tilted your gaze from the tv to your partner, irises dull and heavy with an unimaginable amount of sadness. the expression read no, causing taehyung to frown sadly but he perked up as your lips twitched in order to speak. “toe loop, ina beaur.” you whispered, as the latter’s eyes fell to the screen behind you where your younger self followed the streams of classical music into the moves that trickled from your drying lips.

your partner slumps in his seat, defeated and heartbroken as you turn back to the screen, solemnly. “please... just eat something YN. it’s been days since joon or i last saw you—“

your fist slams down on the table where your pastries sit, jolting the china teacup taehyung knows that you love. he lurches forward to steady it, although his heart beats rapidly and he flinches at your sudden actions. “would you eat?” your question burns at your lips with a dark poison that stings your friend. “would you eat if everything you knew and loved had been ripped from you because of one stupid accident? i don’t think so.” you know better than to scold tae and put the blame on him, but anger at the world and your situation burns brightly behind your logical senses—clouding you’re judgement. “what if all you could do is sit and watch, sit and watch, sit and watch until your mind went numb? could you focus? breathe? eat? sleep? no! so stop asking me and leave me alone.”

you regret your words as soon as they’re said, turning back to your tapes as tears brim in the corner of taehyung’s treacle eyes. he withdraws from you completely, dabbing at his eyes quickly to rid then of  his salty tears as the front door to your apartment opens and closes. namjoon steps through, carrying rustling bags full of essentials that you might need. your friends have been good to you, so good but you can’t help but be mad, be sad and hurt.

your best friend stands abruptly to help his lover put away the groceries, tucking cans and jars away— while hiding his soft whimpers. but namjoon is not a fool, the elder can feel the thick cool settling over the room as he tilts his head towards taehyung. “are you okay, love?” the blonde asks lowly, tilting his gaze between yourself and his boyfriend, immediately sensing that something is wrong. “what happened?” he says louder this time— as if he’s trying to gain your attention too.

“nothing, baby���we...” tae whispers quietly, clenching his fists and unclenching them. he’d always hated conflict between three three of you, he was too sensitive whilst you and joon were head strong and stubborn. “it’s nothing...”

“are you crying?” the elder slices through taehyung’s words as smoothly as a butter knife— making you flinch in your seat at his rough tone. your coach was never one to get angry, his temper was often cool and calm but one poke of the wrong button would start something you didn’t want.

“n-no joonie-!”

“what did she say to you?”

guilt trembled in your grip, hating that you were the reason taehyung cried, the reason that namjoon was angry. for goodness sake, YN, you were friends and this is how you were treating them? joon mutters to the younger about packing up his things before turning his steaming attention to you. thick arms and firm palms sink into the arm rests of the chair, making your gaze turn to your lap. the thing about kim namjoon is that, in away, when you were in the wrong— he made you feel like a child for doing so. “this is the last straw, YN,” he scolds, running a hand through the thick of his dyed hair. “tae and i have tried to be there for you, tried to support you in this time but all you do is push us away.” the anger that bubbled in your chest before has faded to a dull sense of hurt, mad at yourself for paining your friends. “it’s been weeks and you haven’t attended a single physical therapy session, we’re afraid that if you don’t— you’ll never skate again. we all know that’s not what you want, YN. so get your shit together and we’ll be back when you do.”

taehyung appears in the doorway leading to your bedroom just as his boyfriend ends your lecture. you feel your own tears burn in the corner of your eyes at the ultimatum you’ve just been given but swallow them down as your best friend gives you a weak smile. namjoon makes a non-committal grunt, prompting his lover to scurry out of your now open, apartment door. “think about what i said,” he mumbles, tone much softer now.

they leave not long after, leaving you to think about your choices— just as the award ceremony appears on screen while younger you wins her first olympic medal.

there’s a quiet knock at your door, just two days later. part of you hopes it’s taehyung as you hop over on your crutches— but you know namjoon better than that, you won’t get to see them until your coach sees that you’ve made some improvement , he was pesky and annoying like that. you also know that it’s to give each other some time to get ready to apologise, you for upsetting tae and joon for being so harsh. your friendship had always worked like that.

“noona, are you there?” you recognise jungkook’s voice from the other side of the door, struggling to open it with just one hand  while you use your other to cling onto your crutches. it’s been hard, but you’re slowly learning how to use them better, joon would get a kick out of it for sure. “noona— oh!” the cherry haired boy beams brightly as you swing the door open, a matching hue adding further warmth to his melanin rich skin. “you’re here.”

the younger skater is wearing a heavy, oversized sweater despite the warming spring breezes that carry cherry blossoms outside, and black combat pants and matching boots to complete his outfit— his signature large backpack hangs loosely over his shoulder as he stares down at you, being at least half a head taller than yourself. “kookie,” you breathe, hugging him instantly. his sweet, floral scent brings comfort to your racing heart almost instantly as you bury your face in his broad chest. “what are you doing here?”

chuckling quietly, jeongguk pushes you back into your apartment and closes the door behind you both, being careful not to knock you off your unsteady feet. once you’re inside, he fully wraps his arms around you and buries his nose into your neck— finding comfort in your own simple vanilla scent. yourself and the boy always had something unspoken flickering in the air between you, ever since he’d joined your company at seventeen (there was only a year between you both, and jungkook had been a novelty skater until then). your partner always joked that the boy was into older women, whilst you argued that you both admired each other or found one another’s presence highly comforting.

nonetheless, you would be a fool to say you hadn’t noticed how nicely jungkook had grown up since joining you at namjoon’s agency but you could never make your feelings known, not when you were both well known competitors.

“ah— well, namjoon hyung sent me. he said you’d need a fresh face to keep you company...” the younger mumbles, sending shivers down your spine at his proximity. being the sweetheart that he is, jungkook mistakes your shiver for something of pain and guides you to sit on your small fabric couch, pressing a shy kiss to your hairline with burning cheeks as he pulls away. “is it alright if i use your kitchen, i brought some ingredients to make us— i mean you... some dinner!”

“knock yourself out, kookie!”

he nods appreciatively, moving off to your kitchen as you turn back to your tapes, watching over more of your older performances. this time, it’s one from an event just before your first olympics— crisp in quality allowing you to see your skating more clearly. you remember the day that yourself and taehyung qualified for the south korean team, the joy you felt put into every competition since then but now you looked on them with a forlorn expression, wondering what you did wrong? were your movements sloppy? did you bring taehyung down? why did your legs look like that when you jumped?

jungkook fumbles with a frying pan not far from your left as he cooks the meat, a question passing from between his lips that you miss due to lost focus. “hm?” you blink once and turn to face the boy. “what was that?”

“i-i was just asking how you were!” jungkook stammers as his doe eyes catch yours, he blushes deeply, almost as red as his hair before his gaze drops to the broth he begins to serve for the two of you. “unless...of course... that’s a dumb thing to ask...” he bites his lip, dishing out a healthy portion of meat into either of your bowls as he makes the meal look presentable. jungkook places both of your bowls onto a tray before bringing it to your coffee table with a set of chopsticks. “forget i said anything, eat up!” he concludes, taking a seat by your side and handing you your meal.

you smile to yourself, scooping some of the noodles into your mouth and humming at the salty taste. “it’s fine kookoo,” you comment warmly, wiping at your mouth. “i’m just... feeling a bit out of place, not myself... you know?”

the boy only nods, falling silent in favour of watching a younger version of you skate across the ice on screen. the pair of you sit quietly for a while, nothing but the sounds of bowls and chopsticks clanking together, and ice on skates resonating throughout the room. “you’re triple axels were always my favourite,” jungkook whispers before your figure even tumbled into the move, piqueing your interest just a bit. “you were how i leaned to do them.”

“how did you know that was next, though?”

jungkook blushes, setting his dish on the coffee table and thumbing his knuckles shyly. your heart warms at the gesture, causing your smile to broaden. “i-i watched you at the olympics... i’d never taken skating seriously until then so i used your routines to get better, good enough to qualify at the same company as you...”

you fall into yet another silence after squeezing the boy’s hand appreciatively— the red hue to his cheeks only darkening. the cherry haired skater excuses himself to the bathroom and in that time you decide to clear up as a thank you to him for keeping you company. the kitchen is only a short walk, you only have two dishes to carry, it should be fine. except it’s not, like a baby giraffe you are still unsteady in your feet— taking steps without your crutches has proven to be difficult, especially with an armful of kitchenware. if you could just make it to the doorway, at least. at least then you’d know, you weren’t completely useless.

but your concentration slips as the unused muscles in your leg choose this moment to  seize up and suddenly you’re falling to the ground. ceramic bowls clatter against your hardwood floor, smashing into pieces while you use your hands to brace for impact— one that doesn’t come. warm arms encircle your waist, jungkook having returned just in time to stop your fall, and pull you closely into his chest. you can feel your body tremble from fear, from anger at yourself for thinking you were even near ready for something like this— so you end up crying before you notice.

“noona, baby please don’t cry,” jungkook lets the pet name slip without realising, clearing the broken shards away with his foot as he sinks to the floor with you in his arms. “it was an accident... you weren’t ready yet...” he coos into your hairline, kissing it gently as he tugs you into his chest.

you feel suffocated, trapped at home and trapped in the mindset that you’ll never be a skater again but jungkook is jungkook, he knows you more than you might have let on— dressing you up to leave the house and taking you to the one place that might soothe you.

the rink.

jungkook’s sweater swaddles you to warmth as you watch him enter the rink from the stands. it’s eleven pm and you have no idea how he got the keys— especially when namjoon closes early on a sunday. your finger tips are cold so you slip them underneath the sleeves, tucking your nose under the collar of the black cotton fabric as it heats up your cheeks and remind you of what it’s like to be in koo’s arms.

he waves at you from down below and truth be told your heart stops for a second before the younger skates to the middle of the rink. you don’t even know how he managed to get the music playing and the lights set up just for him, but jungkook has always been good at everything so you don’t put it past him. the song you recognise as  ‘wild’ by troye sivan fills the empty rink and the hairs on your skin prickle with familiarity— a song you had used in your first ever competition with taehyung. it shakes you a little, in a meaningful way, to know that jungkook went to the depths he did to learn from you and develop his own style of skating— one of gentle touches but locked down movements. he was everything and then some.

‘been a while since i’ve been a fool, for you...’

just as the high not ends, jungkook takes off, leaping into a perfected quadruple axel that you didn’t even know he’d learned to do. he loops four times in the air but lands a little shaky, they were a risky move and very rarely completed in competition but seeing that he’d taken your signature move and completed it better than your own abilities makes you smile. with a spark in his eye he mouths the words of the song to you ‘leave this blue neighbourhood, never thought loving could hurt this good,’ as he extends his right leg behind him and twirls across the ice.

this easily allows the boy to adjust his position into a camel spin, his legs parallel to the ice as he falls in tune with the lyrics before pivoting. you remember the routine and it’s every element, tracing them in your head as jungkook executes them perfectly right into the climax of the song, he’s perfect— maybe even better than you. nothing going wrong as he falls to the lower ice for a hydroblade, finger tips just brushing over its surface while he sweeps past.

‘you’re driving me wild, wild wild,” your mind drifts away with the music— convincing you that the younger skater is better than you, hes clean and sharp and— what do you have on him now? a pathetically broken leg with you unable to stand on two feet. you barely realise when the song ends and jungkook has made his way to middle of the rink to close because you’re too distracted with the emotions that clog your throat and tears that litter your galaxy eyes.

you cry, pathetically because what else is there to do.

the younger looks up from the ice, lose long sleeve shirt is littered with sweat from his exertion but he pays no mind as he noticed your tears. they shine under false light while jungkook kicks off his skates as fast as humanely possible because he hates the way your tiny body shakes as if you’re cold, he hates how your soft cheeks dampen and how you’re going without his hold for far too long. dashing up to the gallery with only socks to warm his feet, the young skater slides into the seat beside you— immediately pulling you into his heated embrace.

“baby,” he coos gently, cupping your head as you whimper into his neck. “please don’t cry, not anymore...”

you clutch at his shirt with the finger tips that peek through the sleeve of his jumper. “i can’t...it hurts not to be—be on the ice with you, that’s where I—“ you cut yourself off as a sob crawls from between your chapped lips, you crave the tight squeeze of leather skates on your feet and the cold beneath your arms, they would console you more where jungkook couldn’t.

throat burning with heartache, you nuzzle further into the boy and let him toy with your hair. “i think you should go to physical therapy noona,” jungkook whispers quietly, as though not to startle you. “you’re hurting not being out there, i see that...but if you don’t try and heal— you’ll never get back on your feet.”

jeongguk is annoyingly wise for someone  just below your age, so you nod and lace your fingers with his— tracing over the small tattoos that paint his knuckles, silently agreeing to his plea. you let him drive you home that night, clinging to him as he carried you through the door of your apartment.

he doesn’t leave, sliding into bed with you as he holds you close— comforting you once again.

“son of a motherfucking bitch,” you mumble through gritted teeth, as you attempt to step back up and down from the false steps yoongi (your physical therapist) has set up for you. he’s more of a dance therapist than anything, but his exercises are well known in your industry  for rehabilitating skaters and namjoon did say he would get you the best. the pain subsides fairly quickly, unlike the months prior when you had first started with yoongi but you’ve learned well and gotten better— even making up with your coach and best friend.

“yes ma’am?” yoongi answers from a whiles away, causing you to chuckle whilst deciding to sit down for a break. you wipe the sweat from your brow and take the bottle of water that your therapist hands to you, gulping it down to ease your ragged breathing. “you’re doing so much better than when you first came in.” you look to yoongi as he sits next to you, a short ish man (compared to jungkook, taehyung or namjoon) but still taller than you, with warm brown hair and honey eyes along with a gummy smile that makes your heart melt. he’s strict on you, but also caring in the smallest of ways— he knows your limits but when to push you too and has helped you make a pretty fast recovery.  “you’re even laughing more.”

you push at his shoulder, watching the hair fly from yoongi’s face despite his bandanna. “i laughed before!” you defend yourself with a smile.

“barely! i’m just saying, that i’m proud of you YN-ah. i’m glad you came to me in the end, it’d be a shame to see such talent go to waste.” his voice is smooth, not as deep as tae’s but soothing enough, your smile still falters at his words while he locks and unlocks his fingers, staring at the ground.

“you make it sound as if you’re leaving me,”

yoongi looks up at you with a cheeky smile, but his eyes remain slightly dimmed. “well, technically i am...” he sees the confusion on your face as your brows push together.  “an opening came up for a dancer who’s pretty big in the states and over here too, he’s korean so his fan base is large over here and—“

“but you can’t leave me!” you practically yell, shocking both yoongi and yourself— he couldn’t go just yet, not when you were so close. “i’m almost fully recovered and if you leave? a-all my progress could come undone and i’ll never get back on the ice, let alone back in time to train for the olympics!” you feel the familiar emotion of panic bubble in the pits of your stomach, tightly gripping onto yoongi’s wrist as if he’ll disappear into thin air.

the older boy puts a hand over yours, looking to you fondly. “you know that’s not what our end goal is, we want you back on the ice remember?” he reminds you calmly but you slip free from his grip anyways— feeling defeat settle heavily over your heart. if yoongi left now, there’d be nothing for you to work towards and no physician would compare to him. “besides, i already talked namjoon into letting me bring you with me...” you perk up at his words, eyes lighting up brightly at the thought of not being separated this far into your progress. “figure skating is like dance for the ice and your leg is strong enough for you to move on it in that kind of way...”

you figure yoongi is right, it’s not like you hadn’t danced— ballet lessons were almost necessary to become a figure skater, aiding with the grace and light movements you needed. if yoongi was offering you an opportunity to use dance to get back onto the ice, who were you to pass it up. dance therapy would advance her recovery much faster than your regular routine.

yoongi can tell your answer by the look of joy on your face. “so is that a yes? you’re coming with?”

“of course it is, asshole... you should’ve lead with that!” you scold him playfully, pushing the older boy with a roll of your eyes.

a feeling of hope settles, comfortingly amongst your bones— this could be it....

this could be exactly what you needed.

⇢ taglist ! ( comment, like or dm to be added! )

@periminkle​  @ggukkieland​   @aishots​ @ownthesunshine​ @codeinebelle​ @taeass​ @trviahope @singular-itae​ @preciouschimine @yoongismykink @idiakh @honeyspillings @kimsdior @chimshoe95​ @cypherft-v @tangledsparkles​ -@ultraanonymousey @rjsmochii​ ​  @thenoblr 

[eponymiad]

Rating: T Word Count: 4450

1.

The first time Sophos asked the mountain queen to dance, it was his last night in Eddis. For formality’s sake, Eddis would not have declined, but it had taken him most of the night to work up the nerve. 

Punctilious in her hospitality, Eddis had arranged a banquet in their honor. His uncle who was Sounis had finally negotiated their release, though Sophos wouldn’t exactly have called it a harrowing hostage situation. The magus, ever a teacher, had made their captivity instructive, and the Eddisian court had been exceptionally kind, if a bit distant. 

Grasping for conversation as they danced, Sophos said, “I visited the god of thieves’ altar today. Those emeralds were even more impressive than you made them out to be.” 

Eddis laughed, then pressed her lips together. “You can see why the duchess was livid,” she whispered, sounding amused and a little conspiratorial. 

“Indeed. I’m surprised Gen made it out alive.” 

Her grin faltered, and Sophos worried he had inadvertently insulted her or her court. The lowlanders often painted the Eddisians barbaric, but Sophos had not meant his joke literally. Before he could fumble an apology, however, Eddis’s easy smile returned. 

She said, “Oh, Gen prevailed, he always does. Are you glad to be returning to Sounis?” 

Sophos blushed. “I have enjoyed my time in Eddis.” He had grown immensely fond of Eddis — both queen and country. 

The queen of Eddis was exceedingly kind. Sophos knew that another sovereign would not have been so welcoming of their prisoners. His uncle certainly would not have, and that Attolia had held them in a cell in her stronghold just weeks earlier was proof enough that she, too, thought prisoners belonged in a prison. 

Eddis smiled, and Sophos blushed harder as he returned it. He was acutely aware of where his hand rested on her waist, grateful the dance was one he knew well. He thought his nerves might fail him. 

“You must be excited to see your sisters again. From everything you’ve told me of them, they sound much like my more…rambunctious cousins.” 

“They are troublemakers, if that’s what you mean. I am sure to find my hair filled with twigs and leaves by suppertime the day I return.” Sophos laughed. “I cannot wait to see them.” 

Home also meant seeing his father, and explaining what had happened to Pol. The magus was sure to have sent word by now, but Sophos was dreading having to answer questions. The guilt was nearly too much to bear as it was. 

Eddis seemed to guess what he was thinking. “I am sorry about your guard captain,” she said carefully. 

“I will miss him very much. And I do not…look forward to having to explain what happened to him.” 

“I cannot believe your father could blame you for this, Sophos,” she said, even more gently, guessing again at his thoughts.  

“I see you have not met my father, your majesty,” he said wryly. 

She smiled again, an intoxicatingly slow-spreading one that filled her entire face. “I have, actually.” 

“Oh.” He was at a loss for what to say. It was not only his grief over Pol and Ambiades, still fresh and raw, but the concentrated power of her smile that rendered him temporarily speechless. The Queen of Eddis was perhaps the loveliest person he had ever met, and he’d discovered that her more brilliant smiles made it difficult for him to speak. A particular disappointment, as he was eager to talk to her as much as possible. 

Sparing him from scrambling for intelligent thought, Eddis changed the subject. 

“I hope we will have you back as a guest soon. I expect we will have a ceremony in the fall.” 

“For your wedding?” Now that she had no cause to marry his uncle, Sophos had been wondering when she and Gen would marry. 

She laughed. “No, I suspect we will have one more ceremony to honor Hamiathes’s gift, and we will of course invite our neighbors to attend.” 

Sophos wondered if he might persuade his uncle who was Sounis to bring him. He repressed a shudder at the thought of prolonged interaction with his uncle, but perhaps the magus would make a case for it on Sophos’s behalf. 

“I will hope to attend, then, and look forward to returning.” The music ended, and Sophos bowed. “Thank you for the dance, your majesty.”

She returned his smile, inclining her head briefly before turning to her next partner. Sophos returned to his seat, feeling light as air.   

2.

Sophos hadn’t realized he’d grown until he was standing in front of Helen, asking her to dance. He found he had to tilt his head now to look her in the eye. 

As they danced, they chatted, but Sophos could tell she was weary behind the smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.  

“How have you fared today?” he asked. 

“Very well. It was an important ceremony and I am glad to have the company of our neighbors and allies from further away to share it with. Did you enjoy the day?” Her formulaic response left Sophos unconvinced. An expert himself in court niceties, Sophos knew they were easy to wield when more natural conversation was stilted. 

He pressed again, as gently as possible. “I did, thank you. But I imagine it must have been a long day for you, especially.” 

She hesitated, before letting out a quiet sigh. “Yes,” she said, conceding the point. Her face relaxed at the admission. “I am rather exhausted.” 

He sympathized. “I find large events like this particularly draining myself, and I am not anyone nearly as important.” 

“I think heir to the throne merits ‘nearly as important,’ Sophos. But yes, they are draining. Frankly…” 

He waited, hoping she would speak, but she gave a small shake of her head as if letting the thought pass. He ventured a guess. “A lot of self-important, overly-dressed people?” 

Helen’s mouth opened in surprise before she let out a laugh. “That is an…apt description.” 

In the short time he had known her, Sophos had begun to suspect the queen of Eddis cared as little for frivolous courtiers as he did. He was delighted, both to have his suspicions confirmed and to have teased the admission out of her. 

“Just a gaggle of masks,” he said. 

She looked up at him, confused. “A gaggle of what?” 

“Masks, from the story of the fox and the mask?” he said, but she shook her head. “Surely you know Aesop?” 

“Of course I know Aesop, but I do not think I have heard that one. The only story I know about foxes is the fox and sour grapes. Tell me about the mask?”  

Smirking, he told her, “The fox stumbles across a beautiful mask, wrought from gold and inlaid with stones, perfectly molded for a mortal face. Contemplating it, he says, ‘so full of beauty, so empty of brains!’” 

“Oh!” She snorted, and slipped into a round of silent giggles. Sophos was unreasonably pleased to have made her laugh.

“Perhaps that one is popular in Sounis because of the invaders?” he said, wondering aloud. The Merchant Empire had been fond of their ornate masks, which were worn by okloi and patronoi alike during the festival months. “I did not realize there might be more stories. I wonder if I know all the Eddisian ones. What are some of your favorites?” 

She thought for a moment. “The Astrologer Who Fell into a Well and The Boy and His Nettles are two that spring to mind.” 

“Oh, I know the nettles. I have been made to remember that one often by my mother,” he said wryly. 

Smiling, she said, “But not the astrologer?” 

That one did not know, but the the music came to an end, and it was time for the queen to move on to her next partner. Sophos did not stop to think before he said, “Permit me one more dance and you can tell it to me?” 

Helen smiled the smile that Sophos was rapidly discovering buoyed his soul. “Very well,” she said, as Sophos, beaming, led them into the steps for the next dance. “There was a stargazer who spent evenings with his face upturned to the stars, oblivious to all else — the way I’ve seen you do with a book,” she added. Sophos blushed and nodded in agreement. “One night, as he walked through a field, looking up, he fell in a well.” Sophos cringed. “His neighbor came running at the shouts and, seeing the astrologer said, ‘Now you see what happens when you worry over the skies instead of that which is right in front of you.’” 

Sophos raised his eyebrows. “Is this an instructive tale about how I should worry less for the magus’s lessons on temple architecture, and more about hunting and sword fighting so that I might be a suitable heir?” 

“No!” With the hand already holding his shoulder, she slapped his arm gently. “More a reminder to myself.” 

The queen, as far as Sophos knew, did not have a particular interest in the sciences or any other academic subject. 

“A reminder of what?” 

“Not to make myself sick worrying about the plans of the gods and instead focus on the things I can control.” 

Sophos was not religious, did not believe in gods or myths. Despite what Gen had told them as they had camped in the mountain country a few months earlier, the Eddisians were much more religious than Sounisians. That much, at least, had become clear during his two trips. Foreign rulers and emissaries might have attended for the formality of the ceremony, but Sophos had heard the way the Eddisians spoke of Hamiathes’s gift — Gen and Helen had certainly believed in its sanctity. But still, he could see the wisdom in her words. 

“Ah. My cautionary tale is A Man with Two Sweethearts, though I rarely heed my own reminders,” he admitted. When her eyebrows shot up her head, he laughed and fumbled as he said, “The lesson is, those who seek to please everybody please nobody.” 

“I’d never heard that one either, though the lesson itself is a good one. It might carry a different message to my Eddisians though,” she said cryptically. Changing the subject, she said, “I did not realize there were so many more fables.” 

Sophos did not hesitate, did not even draw a breath before saying, “I have a large book of them that was given to me when I was learning to read. I could recopy some of my favorites and send them to you when I return to Sounis, if you’d like.” 

“That would be lovely.” 

And there it was, the chance he had been waiting for. Sophos had spent his faux-captivity over the summer in Eddis, and this much shorter trip, frantically searching for an opening to write to Helen. He had grown increasingly dismayed as the day wore on that he might not find a good reason. The excitement and nerves pounded against his rib cage in equal measure as they moved through the last steps and the song came to an end. 

“Thank you for the dance.” Sophos bowed, knowing it would do little to cover up the blush spreading across his cheeks as he willed his mind away from the rapidly unfolding fantasy that she might respond to his letter, that they might strike up a real friendship, that that might… “It is always a privilege to to spend time in your company.” 

She returned his smile with one of her own, the slow-spreading one that was, Sophos was certain, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. It made his heart sing. 

“I will look forward to the Aesop stories.” 

“I will get working on them as soon as I arrive home,” he promised. 

3.

They had danced nearly every night that he was in Attolia. 

They were both a little clumsy in their dancing, both in different ways. Helen was stiff, her soldier’s march no less pronounced in the fluid steps of a dance. Sophos, for his part, had grown taller since regular balls in Sounis, and found it hard to adjust to the length of his gait. But as the days wore on, punctuated by walks in the gardens and, if he was lucky, meals together, they had found their rhythm. By now they moved almost as one. 

Sophos had felt something shift, in the way she looked at him, the way she touched him, the way she moved her body in time with his. He may be cow-eyed, but he wasn’t oblivious. As he fspun out further and further, head sick with plans and worries about retaking his country, the sole thought buoying his hopes was that he might come back not to a political marriage but — 

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Helen teased, smiling up at him. She smiled at him often, and it still caught him off guard, left him feeling both completely off kilter and as if everything was right in the world. His heart swelled. 

“How very lucky I am that you dance with me.”

“Plenty of women dance with you.”

“But none nearly as beautiful as you.”

She flushed then, cheeks darkening, mouth half-open in surprise. “Flatterer,” she said when she recovered. 

“Not at all. I am incapable of lying, as Gen has made sure to remind me several times a day.” She shook her head, still smiling. He asked, “Are you looking forward to returning home to Eddis?” He led her into a spin. 

She spun back. “Immensely,” she admitted wearily. “I miss my mountains.” 

Sophos did not fail to notice that as she had landed back into his arms, her body was a little closer than it had been. Sophos slid his hand around, from her waist to her back, and pulled her even closer. 

The music changed and he cursed his luck as he and Helen broke apart. That move had taken all his nerve, and he did not know if he would risk it again. 

But the next song was different, and with the drum came the trill of a mountain pipe. Helen glanced over her shoulder at Gen, who was looking at his wife with such a fondness that it warmed Sophos’s heart. It was the first time Sophos had heard a traditional Eddisian tune since he had been in Attolia. He suspected they were avoided since both hands were needed, but the Attolias seemed to be getting into position to dance. Helen looked back at Sophos.

“You know the square dances?” 

“Helen,” he said dryly. “I am good for very little, but I do at least know Eddisian court dances. Have a little more faith in me than that.” 

She rolled her eyes. “If I had so little faith in you, I would be more worried for the future of our little peninsula.” 

“Point taken,” he said, grimacing. As he moved into position, Sophos faltered — he realized that he had not danced the Eddisan dances in years. “We’ll have to see how we fare with the height difference.” 

She laughed. “Everyone is taller than me. I barely come up to Boagus’s sternum. It will be fine.” 

The dance required partners to grab each other’s hands and Sophos, seizing the opportunity, laced his fingers between hers. That the dance was easier when performed with clasped hands was of little importance to him at the moment. 

When it was time for her to spin, Sophos released Helen’s hands as she spun away and back to him, fingers sliding back into his when she returned, the skirts of her dress following suit. 

“This dance is the only time I prefer a dress to trousers,” she said.

“I don’t remember this dance being so fun,” Sophos said, just barely holding onto his breath as the music sped up for the next cycle. 

“Have you ever danced it with an Eddisian before?” He hadn’t. “It takes practice for it to really flow.” 

It was certainly more fun than any of the continental dances at the Sounisian balls, or even the more out-of-fashion dances brought to the peninsula by the last invaders. There was a thrill in the way the pace picked up, quickened your heartbeat and chased the air from your lungs as you stepped faster and faster with your partner, until the only things you could focus on were the tapping of your own feet and your partner’s body, mirroring yours as you tried desperately to keep the pace. 

Their fingers unwound only for the last spin, Helen’s hands small in his as he gripped them tight. And as they spun together, Sophos so much larger than her that he thought he might lift her off the ground with his force, their eyes held one another’s. In that moment, Sophos was sure there was no one else in the room, in the palace, in Attolia, and maybe not even the world. 

The music ended and they came to a halt, both of them breathless and bubbling with mirth. Pulling one hand from hers, Sophos gently pushed back a curl that had flipped free of her crown, tucking the short strand behind her ear. His hand lingered there, and Helen held his gaze. Sophos was acutely aware of how close they stood. Close enough, he thought, that if he bent down, he could kiss her. 

He considered it, his mind running away as he imagined, for an instant, tilting her head up at his and kissing her here, in front of everyone, propriety and the whole court of Attolia be damned. 

But he was not so reckless — though he might have been had they been in the gardens alone — and slowly he lowered his hand from her face, their other hands still clasped tight. Never once did she take her eyes off his. 

And as he lay in the dark later that night, restless over his journey and the hard, perhaps fatal plan that lay before him, he thought of Helen, of the dance, and of the look she’d given him he had touched her face. 

This was not his imagination, he was sure. There was something between them. 

Thinking of her, he drifted to sleep. 

+1

“Is the dress all right?” Gen asked as he and Helen stepped together. His tone was light, but Helen knew her cousin too well. His hook lay at her waist, blade carefully turned away to spare her dress — or her — any harm. 

“It’s perfect, thank you, Gen. And thank you for sparing me from whatever awful gown Aunt Livia would have inevitably chosen.” She would have complied, her worry over the future of her country and the imminent threat of her barons making it easier to say yes than to argue for her own self-interests. Instead, Gen had insisted on handling it. The resulting wedding dress was beautiful, both as simple as Helen preferred and cut with a neckline to show off her tattoos, making clear to those watching that she was still Eddis. She was overwhelmed, as always, for his careful consideration and fierce loyalty. “And the wedding has been lovely. You are the consummate host. Maybe you are better as a frivolous trophy husband, planning parties and selecting gowns,” she teased. 

“I told you all, I make a much better figurehead than king. I also told you that I thought you would marry him,” Gen added, gloating, as the dance continued. 

She rolled her eyes, but could not stop her smile. “Do you never tire of being right?” 

“No.” He grinned at her, and she was glad for it. Eugenides had not smiled much these last few days, not since her barons had arrived and their cousins had begun complaining about his ascension to Annux in earnest. 

The last notes of the song faded, replaced with sounds of drums and a single mountain pipe. Before she had time to consider whether she was willing to risk a one-handed dance with Gen, her husband appeared at her side, tugging her by the hands into an empty space with him.

She and Sophos finished the dance with the last spin, as breathless as ever after a square dance, and the music master paused before the next song to allow people to compose themselves. Sophos grinned down at her. She reached up to touch his face, his head ducked to bring it closer to her. 

“You look so handsome today.” 

She watched his cheeks, already flushed from dancing, turn redder still, the color blooming dark across his face. His blushes were always easy, but he had glowed like the fires of the sacred mountain today, the joy radiating off of him mirroring the feeling threatening to burst out of her own chest. 

Helen thought of the first time she’d danced a square dance with him. While he had been in Attolia, she had been so wracked with worry and guilt, over saving her country and manipulating Sophos, that she had not even noticed herself falling in love with him. 

But, the night before he had returned to Sounis, they had danced one last time, and she had felt it then. Their bodies had drawn closer and closer like magnets as they’d danced, and when he had held her face, she’d been struck with the thought that she really might like to kiss him. 

In hindsight, it was obvious that she was in love with him. But at the time, she had written it off as a reaction to the dancing. That happened sometimes with dance partners, the magic of the music and the movement of bodies against one another sparking a flame that flickered and died with the end of the song. 

Well, she thought, as the flame inside her grew brighter and brighter, so much for that. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

“How very much I’d like to kiss you.”

He blushed more still, suddenly endearingly shy. “You could.” 

They had kissed plenty by now. It had taken ten days from their engagement to assemble their barons in Attolia for the wedding. Sophos had not once slept in his own bed. 

“Not when you’re all the way up there, I can’t.”

He stooped low so she could pull him close, and she kissed him, quick and sweet. 

Sophos rested his forehead against hers and murmured, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

He kissed her forehead and took one hand in his, his other resting lightly on her back. The music had picked up again, and they began the slower steps for one of the Continental dances. 

Helen wiped the sweat from her brow. The fall had not yet arrived in Attolia, and it was hot in the packed courtyard. That her dress was stifling did not help. Gen had been careful in his selection, but there was only so plain wedding clothes could be. It might have been fine had they had the wedding in Eddis, but the layers were oppressive in the lowlands. 

Fussing with the heavy cloth of her dress, she said, “I cannot wait to get out of this godsforsaken gown.” 

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” 

She bit back her grin. “I meant because of the heat.” 

“I didn’t,” he said, boyish grin consuming his face. She pressed her own face into his chest briefly to hide her blush. 

They were both quiet for several moments. When she looked back up at his face, she could see worry lines on his forehead. 

“What’s worrying you?” she asked. 

“It’s nothing.” 

She raised her eyebrows at him. Sighing, he said, “It seems your barons have been putting ideas in my barons’ heads.” 

She closed her eyes briefly in frustration. “The bastards never miss an opportunity for drama,” she said, freely swearing away from prying ears. “I am sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for. You did warn me they were contentious.” 

“You do not know the half of it,” she said, thinking of the bloody and nearly-bloody history she had not yet revealed to him. She would have to tell him soon, of her failure to keep her barons in line, and of how their trip to steal Hamiathes’s gift had saved Gen more than it had saved her. 

His frown lines deepened and he glanced around. “A conversation for later?” 

“For later,” she agreed. Shaking her head, she said, “But there is not much to be done about them, except make sure they stay in line. It’s the epitome of The Lion, the Flies and the Hedgehog.” 

“The what?” He looked bewildered.

“The Aesop story. It was one of the ones you sent me! The evil you know is better than the evil you don’t?” 

“Oh,” he said, face and voice tinged with wonder. “You remember that?” 

She smiled. “Of course I remember. I loved those stories. I hadn’t heard most of them.” 

Helen was sure no one had ever looked at her with as much fondness as Sophos was in that very moment. 

“I can’t believe you remember those. I was so nervous sending that letter. I had looked high and low for an excuse to write you. When you said you hadn’t heard some of them, I clung to it desperately.” 

“I am glad you did.” 

“Not nearly as glad as I am,” he said, beaming. “It feels like many lifetimes ago now.” 

“Indeed.” 

Not even in the beginning of her reign had Helen dared to hope for anything more than a peaceful political marriage. And later, when she had made her peace with marrying Sophos’s uncle, she had lost hope for even that. Her singular focus was saving her country; her wants and needs inevitably fell to the wayside. Such was the burden of being queen. 

Then Sophos had reappeared, like something straight out of the Eponymiad, and beneath all the relief and fear and guilt that had twisted together inside her, Helen had felt the first glimmers of hope igniting, that her marriage might be something more than just tolerable. She would at least be marrying her friend, she had thought. Followed immediately by the crashing waves of dread that her manipulation of him to save Eddis would be the end of that too. It had kept her up at night. 

But her imagination had not been big enough for the end result: a husband she loved as she loved Sophos. Even now, on her wedding day, it felt surreal that she could be so lucky. 

Sophos smiled down at her. “Are you happy?” 

“Beyond my wildest dreams.” 

Sophos blushed bright red. Swaying in his arms, Helen relaxed.

Crossposted on AO3 here!

[legoshi-plz]

11. "I took nyquil instead f dayquil on accident and now I'm about to pass out" with Louis and reader? They/them pronouns, if that's ok!

A/N: That’s perfectly ok! This is also apart of the same ArrangedMarriage! AU. Also idk if I said it before but Reader could be perceived as Carnivore, Herbivore, Omnivore, etc. There’s no established animal class or gender 😁

/////////

Another sneeze rang out across your bedroom as you finally slipped on your shoes and gave one final brush to your tail. You and Louis were scheduled to have dinner with Louis’ father today which already had your nerves standing on end.

You hadn’t had much opportunity to get to know the man since he had arranged you and Louis’ marriage so on the fly (when Louis’ first betrothed backed out suddenly at the last minute). He had assured you and your father before the marriage took place that you were an “even more valuable political asset,” and that things were “better this way, more progressive.” At the time you were so grateful to get away from the pressures of your family and their unrealistic expectations of you, that you would have probably married anyone of means if that meant escaping them.

You didn’t know at the time that you would become so fond of Louis, that the two of you were the perfect pair as far as companionship went. He was kind, caring and gentle with you, a shocking contrast from the rigid, cold young man you were first introduced to at the beginning of the union. He’d truly grown on you and you him. You were immensely pleased the two of you were able to grow as close as you had but there was always some part of you that longed for more. What more entailed, however, you weren’t certain.

“Still suffering from that cold?” Louis asked, entering the bedroom while straightening his tie.

“Unfortunately,” you blanched. Your throat still hurt and your voice was hoarse. You had been battling this cold for the better part of a week now and every time you thought it had retreated, it came back again full force.

“If you don’t feel well enough to attend...”

“I’m fine, Louis. Let me just go take a little something and I’ll be ready to go,” you said heading to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. A little cold medicine would get you through the day as long as you took Dayq-

“You look great by the way. A true vision,” Louis called from the other room and you felt your cheek heat up at the compliment. So flustered by his comment you accidentally downed an unruly amount of green bitter medicine, only realizing you mistake after swallowing the horrid liquid.

“Uh oh....”

///////

“After you,” Louis said holding the car door open for you one you arrived at his father’s house. You stepped out and stumbled slightly as the effects of the medicine really began to weigh on you. Louis’ hands flew to the small of your back to steady you.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” He asked calmly but his eyes looked alarmed.

“I’m just fine, Louis, just fine,” you smiled.

You were the farthest thing from fine.

Your eyelids were getting heavier by the moment and your dizziness was increasing rapidly. Your limbs began to feel heavy and you were having trouble concentrating on anything that wasn’t your restraint from yawning.

Louis could sense something was horribly wrong but tried to put on a good show in front of his father. Oguma was none the wiser and rattled off words and sentences that you couldn’t seem to really register at the moment.

Why didn’t you take the recommended serving size? Why did you have to down almost half the bottle? Why were you such an idiot?

“Y/N?” Louis whispered, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. The three of you were currently seated by the fireplace as you waited for the maids to make the announcement that lunch was served. You didn’t think you could make it that long.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered back and Louis’ eyes turned to the size of saucers. He seemed to have momentarily forgotten his father was even speaking as his ears perked in alert, his attention completely on you.

“Sorry about wh-”

“Dinner is ready, sir!” One of Oguma’s maid declared and the elder stag stood in satisfaction.

“Finally,” he gruffed, waiting for his guest to rise as well.

“We’ll be just a minute father, I need a word with my [wife/husband/partner],” Louis called and Oguma continued on without the two of you.

“We sh-shouldn’t keep him w-waiting, Lou,” you slurred as you tried to stand up only to nearly fall over if Louis hadn’t caught you by the waist.

“What is going on, Y/N?” Louis said sternly, his arm tightening immensely.

“I.... I.... I took NyQuil instead of DayQuil and I’m two seconds from passing out,” your voice was trembling at this point. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks and you couldn’t tell if it was the stress of the situation, the effects of the medicine, or a result from the cold you were fighting.

“Shit,” Louis murmured, gathering you in his arms as you began to cry. This definitely had to be a side effect of the medicine making you this emotionally raw.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t cry, it’s not the end of the world. Y/N.” Louis cooed rubbing your back. He licked the fur of your cheek a couple of times, his own deer instincts kicking in to try and get you to calm down.

“C’mon, lets get you home,” Louis said helping you walk towards the front door.

“But what about your father?”

“He’ll understand. Or he won’t, I really couldn’t give a shit. I’m more concerned about you right now,” Louis said helping you into the car. He returned back into the house to presumably inform Oguma of the sudden departure. You never saw him return as you fell fast asleep in the passengers seat.

When you woke up, you were in your bedroom at home. You realized Louis must have carried you inside while you continued to sleep off the medicine. You sat up and an instant wave of fatigue washed over you.

“Feeling better?” Louis asked from beside you. In your groggy haze you hadn’t even noticed him in bed beside you. He was shirtless and looked like he had been asleep himself. You glanced at the window and saw it was pitch dark outside.

“Y-yeah, have I really been out that long?” You sighed looking at the clock by the bed that read 2am. Louis hummed in confirmation, pulling your frame closer to lay back down. You complied and allowed him to gather you in his arms, his warmth spreading to you immediately.

“Louis.... I’m sorry I messed up so badly today. I know how important it is to keep up this image for your father and I screwed it all up,” you whispered to the stag. Louis’ eyes were still closed but his ears twitched indicating he’d heard you.

“I told you it doesn’t matter. I can’t have you sacrificing your health or overextending yourself in an sick state just to impress my old man. You come first Y/N, always,” Louis said with an air of finality and you knew better than to contradict his sincere words.

Instead, you elected to snuggle up even closer to the large deer and allow his steady heartbeat to lull you back into a dreamless sleep.

[puddygeeks]

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 71: Wᴇɪɢʜᴛ Oғ Tʜᴇ Wᴏʀʟᴅ

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Episode: Watch The Thrones

Chapter Seventy-One

Stepping outside of the oppressive atmosphere of the Ark, I found that Lincoln hadn’t gone far to escape after his attack. 

He stood leaning against the structure, staring into the distance in what I could only assume was an attempt at calming himself and as I stepped closer, I noticed that he wore an intense expression. There was a stream of blood down the side of his face from the deep gash in his head, which clearly needed stitches and I leaned carefully into his eyeline.

“Linkon.” 

I addressed him gently, speaking in Trig to ensure that our conversation would remain private as I pulled his attention from his thoughts and as he met my eyes, I could see his vulnerability which flared my protective nature.

“Let me take a look at that.” I offered as I gestured toward his wound and he took a moment to consider me, before bending down to my height so that I could reach.

Using the rag that I’d taken from inside, I gently wiped away the blood from his face and examined the laceration with a grimace. My temper bubbled in my stomach as I treated him, wishing that I had the strength to beat some sense into his attacker, but I had to force myself to remain calm. He already seemed to be battling his own emotions and it would be selfish to allow mine to influence him now.

“This is a deep wound, Linkon.” I advised as I gathered the rag and pressed it over the wound to protect it, ensuring that it was completely covered. “Hold this here for now. You need to keep the pressure up until we get to Medical.”

“No.” He answered abruptly as he took responsibility for holding the rag, but straightened his posture so that he was out of my reach and it was clear that he was not ready to face Abby or the others yet.

“They’re wrong about you.” I stated firmly, unwilling to allow him to sink into despair and he studied me with an unreadable expression. “You do belong here, but not because you are no longer Trikru. You are still one of them, too. In fact, I would say that you are their most valuable member, because you were willing to leave behind everything that you know to help them.” I divulged, pausing to shuffle slightly as he met my eyes and I smiled as I continued.

“We both know that our medical knowledge could help your people enormously. We also know that because of our weaponry, going to war would cause countless deaths for your people. That’s why you are doing everything that you can to secure peace and a better life for them. Your people may not recognise what you’re doing for them, but I do.” I rambled, holding his eye contact unflinchingly and he sighed as he absorbed my words.

“Your people still view me as just another grounder.” He stated with frustration, allowing himself to lower his internal walls to me and I nodded in understanding. “They do not care for all that I have sacrificed. To them, I am no different to Azgeda. Will it ever be enough?”

“You’re entitled to be hurt by what just happened in there. I would be too, especially after everything that you have done for us. It’s vital that you remember that the people responsible for this unacceptable incident are ignorant, small minded idiots whose opinions do not represent this camp. The people who supported you before we found Farm Station still support you. You haven’t lost anything, Linkon. We still consider you one of us and we always will. Oso thro daun ageda.” [We fight together.] I asserted, passion filling my voice as I spoke and I watched as the hurt in his face gradually melted away, until he smiled appreciatively at me.

“Oso thro daun ageda.” He repeated calmly, his eyes sparking with emotion and I smiled at him in return. “You have become a wise warrior, Indigo kom Trishanakru. You would make an exceptional second to Arlo.” He praised, causing my heart to swell at the kindness of this compliment and I touched his arm in a fond gesture. 

“Thank you, but I’m plenty busy enough with keeping an eye on all of you.” I remarked with a cheeky wink, before fidgeting to regain my balance as my head spun again. 

“I have to get back to Medical. Come on. You can help me and get your head treated whilst you’re there.” I instructed in the hope that he wouldn’t fight me this time and he simply nodded slowly, before falling into step with me.

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The ward was surprisingly busy when we entered, as they seemed to be overwhelmed with sick grounders and though I was taken aback by this sudden development, I focused on handing Lincoln over to Abby for treatment. She seemed relieved when she noticed us and led him to a bed to examine the wound.

Kane rushed into the ward with Pike following close behind him, both making a beeline for Abby and I decided to return to my own bed, suspecting that Lincoln would likely already be overwhelmed enough with them arguing around him, without my contributions. 

I’d only just placed myself sideways on the mattress, my hands on my knees as I stared at the floor and waited for my dizziness to pass, when I felt someone approaching me.

“I heard that you were hurt.” 

A strikingly calm voice announced and I glanced up to find Nyko examining me with the same controlled face that Lincoln often wore. It had been a while since I’d last seen him, but I could tell that he had a similarly noble nature to Lincoln and I appreciated that he continued to support his friend in securing peace. 

“Good to see you again, Nyko.” I smiled politely, shifting my position so that I could view him better. “I’m alright. Just need a bit of recovery time. How are you doing after your treatment?” I enquired, remembering how severe his wounds had been when he last came to us and hoping that he’d managed to recover well enough without our assistance.

“I am much better. I wish that I could say the same for my people.” He answered regretfully and I glanced around the ward to notice that many of the grounders here were either coughing, or vomiting. “There was a sickness in a village nearby. Many recovered quickly, but some have not been able to fight it. Abby offered to help them.” He explained, seeming exhausted as he glanced back at them and I regarded him with sympathy.

“Well, we have to take care of each other, right?” I offered with a warm smile and he seemed pleased to discover that I was supportive of this decision. “I’m sorry. Any other time I would offer to help, but getting Linkon here has kinda wiped me out.” I confessed, feeling utterly useless for my current weakness and Nyko nodded in understanding.

“Abby said that you were badly hurt in the attack. I am sorry for what happened at Mount Weather.” He remarked with an expression of genuine remorse and I flashed him a grateful smile. “Rest well, my friend.” He muttered as he bowed his head to me, before returning to caring for his people. 

With a deep sigh, I laid back on the bed to catch my breath and stared up at the ceiling, struggling to focus. Everything felt more draining than I was prepared for and I already grew tired of my new limitations. 

Hurried footsteps warned me of Jackson’s arrival as he frantically ran around me to take another set of obs and it seemed that he was too flustered to even hold a conversation as he worked. His pen scratched rapidly over the charts as he filled in the results and once it seemed that he was satisfied with his findings, he rushed away to care for the rest of his patients. 

Abby was still attempting to treat Lincoln whilst also balancing an argument with Pike and Kane. As I watched her struggling to multitask, I understood why she felt that she needed to pass on the role of Chancellor to someone who could give it their full attention.

“Lincoln. We need to set an example.” Kane pleaded, allowing a slight hint of his anger over this incident to peek out from his careful demeanour and I smiled. 

Kane’s consideration for Lincoln gained my respect, as I had never expected for him to be as accepting when we first met and was pleasantly surprised at the leader that he was blossoming into. Meanwhile, Pike sighed at his side, as he fidgeted around in a stressed manner.

“Yeah. We do.” Lincoln muttered, clearly far more relaxed than he was when I first found him outside and I wondered whether it might have been wiser to encourage him to respect his anger, as now he seemed to be taking a more lenient approach to his attacker than I approved of.

“The man just lost his son, Marcus.” Pike argued, seeming shocked that anyone could even consider punishing the instigator and I huffed in annoyance. 

Pike had been blatantly coddling the Farm Station residents since they arrived, unable to accept even the mere suggestion that they could do any wrong and my patience with his golden child syndrome was growing thin. 

“Lincoln didn’t do that.” Abby pointed out, staring at Pike over her shoulder whilst she worked and I was relieved that she remained stern in the face of his favouritism.

The doors to the ward swung open with a clatter as Octavia entered, her face filled with a mixture of terror and rage. Though I willed my legs to stand to join her, I couldn’t lift myself from the bed and simply had to watch as she strode toward Lincoln in a fluster.

“What happened?” She demanded, sneaking a glare at Pike as she passed that silently enquired as to why he was even present and I couldn’t help a sly smile at her attitude.

Octavia began fretting over Lincoln as they shared a hushed conversation and Pike moved to leave medical first. He had barely reached my bed when Nyko momentarily blocked his path, fixing him with a stern glare that conveyed his distrust and he maintained it even once he eventually allowed him to pass. Pike seemed shaken by this encounter as he hurried out and I caught Nyko’s eyes with a meaningful look.

“He is bad news. Watch him around your people.” I warned, already fearful for the safety of those in the ward and Nyko nodded in agreement, seeming grateful for my support.

My attention was caught by Abby loudly asking Lincoln to assist with translation for the grounder patients and Octavia wandered over to my bed with frustration poorly hidden in her face.

“How are you feeling, little miss kamikaze?” She interrogated, raising a bro at me critically and I shook my head at her as I prepared myself for another scolding. “Honestly, if you didn’t already look so sorry for yourself, I’d hit you. You really worried us this time. I thought Bellamy was going to have a heart attack. I’ve never seen him that frantic. He was losing his mind!”

“I know. I’m an idiot. Believe me, I’ve already got that message loud and clear from a host of people.” I answered with an apologetic smile and she seemed pleased to hear that I was being grilled for my behaviour. “Give me a little recovery time and I’ll be fine.” I added gently to answer her question and she seemed relieved, though the tension in her brows didn’t completely disappear. 

“You look stressed, Sugar. Talk to me.” I offered, unsettled by seeing her upset.

Octavia chewed on her lip for a moment, seeming as if she was too proud nowadays to allow herself a moment of weakness as she had always done in my company in the past. I patted the bed as I shuffled over to make space, making it clear that I was absolutely willing to still dote on her when needed and she sighed, before she carefully sat beside me.

“Lincoln’s not going to press charges on that Farm Station asshole.” She grumbled with anger filling her pretty features and I sighed in disappointment. 

If I was honest, I had expected this outcome, but I had hoped that Octavia might be able to convince him to reconsider. I had no doubt that she had already tried, but as she clearly had been unsuccessful, I decided that I would need to provide her with calming answers, rather than riling her up further.

“There has to be a consequence for assaulting him like that. I mean, he’s got stitches in his head, Indie!” She exclaimed and I struggled to keep my mouth closed as I nodded. “Pike’s people already think that they’re untouchable as it is. This won’t help anything.” She added bitterly and I took one of her hands in mine in an attempt to calm her from her outrage.

“That’s Lincoln’s way. You know that better than anyone, Tavi. He wants to set a good example of grounders. That they can be compassionate and compromise.” I advised, caressing her hand comfortingly and she huffed as she absorbed my words. “Plus, it sounded like Pike was pushing pretty hard for no charges. He’s certainly not making things any easier by insisting that our rules don’t apply to them.”

“Tell me about it. You know, the guards were trying to throw Nyko and the others out when they arrived. They didn’t even give him a chance to explain that their treatment had already been agreed with Abby.” She recounted with aggravation and I furrowed my brows at this revelation. “I had to help carry them in by myself. No one else would help them.” She revealed, her voice gradually softening from anger to fear and I glanced around at the sickly people surrounding us with shock.

“A lot of the people here have been anti-grounder for a while. The Farm Station residents moving in and then the Mount Weather attack has only boosted their confidence. We’re going to have to be careful in how we deal with this. People are angry and scared, and we both know how easily that can go to shit if it becomes a mob mentality.” I analysed, feeling uneasy about the divide that I could sense in the camp and Octavia glanced at me with a similar discomfort in her eyes.

“I asked Linkon if we could leave to join Trikru. The Commander lifted the kill order on him, so we’re free to go. Indra seemed interested in having me back at the Summit. I thought that maybe I could convince her to take him too.” She whimpered, switching to Trig to be extra cautious that none of our own people could overhear her plans and though I was upset by this suggestion, I understood her desire to escape. “He said no. He wants to stay, but I don’t feel safe here.”

“Linkon feels like he has a responsibility to represent his people here. He’s too noble to walk away from that. He still has hope that an alliance could work.” I reminded her, despite feeling doubtful about the reliability of this concept myself and she scoffed under her breath, though her expression revealed that she knew I was right. 

“You’re always safe with me. No matter what state I’m in. I’m never gonna let anything happen to you and neither will your man. You know that, right?” I confirmed, squeezing her hand tightly and she snuck a rare smile at me.

“I know. The same goes for you. We’ve got each other's backs.” She confirmed and I was pleased to have at least taken the edge off her anxiety. “Love you.” She whispered, sniffing emotionally before she leaned her head onto my shoulder in a way that she hadn’t done in a long time.

“Love you too, Tavi.” I breathed, placing a light kiss on the top of her head and leaning into her too.  

We stayed like this for a few minutes and I treasured the feeling of closeness between us. Since we landed on Earth things had never been the same, but I was grateful that I could always fall back on Octavia. Her love and commitment had kept me strong in the worst times of my life and I knew that no matter what happened in the future, or how far apart we ended up, I would always be able to depend on it. 

“Sorry to interrupt this super adorable moment, but I’ve gotta move you.” Jackson announced with an apologetic smile as he crept into the area around my bed and I glanced up at him in confusion.

“The grounders that we are treating are suffering with an illness that is causing breathing difficulties. It’s not especially serious, but if you were to catch it, it would majorly affect your recovery. We’re gonna move you to a private room for tonight and then we’ll see if you’re looking well enough to rest up in your own quarters after that.” He explained as he busied himself with gathering my stuff so that I wouldn’t attempt to carry it myself and I looked over at Octavia reluctantly.

“It’s okay. You need to focus on taking care of yourself. We’ll chat later.” She soothed, giving my arm a supportive squeeze, before she left me to Jackson’s care.

Using his arm for balance, I allowed him to lead me to a small room beside the main ward that was available for any intensive care cases. He assisted in setting up the room and checked that I was settled comfortably in bed. Once he’d wheeled in all of the necessary equipment, he connected me to an IV for another dose of pain relief and ensured that I ate a full meal, before he returned to assist Abby in the main ward.

For a while, I managed to concentrate on reading The Iliad again, before I became restless and my mind began to obsess over Bellamy, worrying over what could take this amount of time. I recalled Raven’s earlier words with a flinch, fearful that they were hurtful enough to cause him to do all manner of stupid things and I was already considering whether I had the energy to sneak out to find him, when he finally appeared.

“Hey! Are you alright?” He enquired immediately, seeming flustered and lost as he made his way into the room and I nodded with confusion, unsure what had caused such a distressing attitude. “I panicked when I couldn’t find you. What’s going on?” He breathed, sounding out of breath and I smiled at his protectiveness. 

“Oh, sorry. Jackson and Abby don’t want me to pick up anything from the grounders that they’re treating whilst I’m still in recovery.” I explained, casually placing the book on a nearby surface and he glanced back toward the ward in annoyance.

“If they’re so sick, maybe they shouldn’t be here!” He stated frustratedly, his entire demeanour radiating aggravation and I knitted my brows together at the absurdity of this statement. “We shouldn’t be taking grounders into Arkadia if it’s going to endanger our own people.” He argued as he glared toward the ward again and I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

“Well, that’s why I’m in here now. The illness isn’t especially dangerous, according to Jackson. They just didn’t want to slow my recovery.” I clarified gently, but he remained distracted by this change and I could tell that something else was bothering him. 

“Come on. Sit down.” I requested, tapping a chair that was beside the bed and he paused to ensure that the door to the room was fully closed protectively.

Once satisfied that no germs were going to reach me, he reluctantly shuffled over to my side and dropped into the chair. Even his posture seemed irritable and I knew that he wasn’t coping, despite his best efforts to keep this information to himself. It was agonising for me to witness him suffering and wished that I could simply take his pain away. 

“Bellamy, talk to me. Please.” I offered, reaching over to take one of his hands in mine and he simply fidgeted in his seat as he viewed me. He didn’t grip my hands in return, seeming completely removed from me and I felt anxiety building in my chest at his strange behaviour.

“Baby. What Raven said earlier was awful-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He cut in abruptly, clearing his throat to ensure that his voice didn’t divulge any emotion and I chewed on my lip.

“Well, clearly not talking about it is doing wonders for you.” I blurted, thinning my eyes at him and he avoidantly turned his face away.

Everything about his posture was closed off, as if he was making every effort to keep me from breaching his defences and I couldn’t imagine why he felt that he needed to manage this alone. Ever since I first woke up in Arkadia, I knew that there were things that he wouldn’t tell me and in the months that followed the feeling only grew, seeming like a disease that slowly poisoned him. Now I knew that he was lying and the pain that he battled to disguise was written all over his face, in capital letters. 

 “She needs someone to blame for what happened and it’s not fair that she picked you.” I stated, keeping my voice gentle as I addressed him and he sniffed loudly. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” He asked sharply, startling me with the sharpness of his tone and I noticed when he finally brought his gaze back to me that there were tears glistening in his eyes. “I chose to trust Echo. I vouched for her, even when you told me to be careful. They were all my decisions. Going to Polis to warn them was my plan.” He pointed out, his voice shaking as he spoke and hurt came off him in waves.

“I almost got you killed, Indie!” He hissed, the pain in his face causing my heart to break and I could hardly cope with how broken he looked. “Jackson said that when he found you, you were drowning in your own blood. You barely made it through surgery. I had to sit here and watch you fight for your life, knowing that it was my fault if you died.” 

“You didn’t do this to me, Bellamy. This one is on me. I hid the broken ribs and I stayed in the mountain for too long. I did this to myself.” I insisted, unwilling to allow him to blame himself for my injuries and I could recognise that this aspect had caused the most damage to him emotionally. 

“Please. Tell me how this blood isn’t on my hands, because I can’t see it.” He whispered, hardly able to get the words out as he stared at me in desperation and I longed to wrap him in my arms, holding him until he came back to his senses.

“Earlier today, you reminded me that we are still just kids, doing the best that we can. You could never have known what was going to happen. The only people with blood on their hands are the ones who plotted to kill us. You don’t get to punish yourself for being human.” I asserted with as much strength as I could and he finally allowed a tear to roll down his cheek. “You did what you believed was right. You can’t be blamed for what happened after.” I confirmed, reaching out to brush the tear away, but he leaned away from me.

“I’m pretty sure that Raven would disagree.” He divulged in a hoarse voice, roughly wiping his tears aside as if he were frustrated at himself for showing weakness and for a moment, I felt lost for words.

The distance between us felt like miles and I couldn’t think on how to reach past the blame that he was determined to carry. For the first time since we’d been together, he felt like a stranger to me and it strung to realise that I hadn’t known him for long enough to know how to handle this. The only remaining truth that I could offer was my own insight and I took a deep breath as I returned my mind to the weeks that I spent captive in Mount Weather.

“When I thought that I lost you, I was like a totally different person. That kind of grief, combined with all of the what ifs and missed chances, it brings out the worst in you. She’s dealing with so many constantly changing emotions and she just needs someone to direct them at.” I expressed, using my experiences to try to remove some of the impact of Raven’s attack and he listened obediently whilst still keeping his gaze trained away from me.

“You’re an easy target for her and she needs that right now. For me, it was Miller.” I admitted, causing him to finally glance up at me in confusion. “In my mind, I lost you because he took me when you were fighting Tristan. I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge that he was just protecting me as you’d asked. I believed that I could’ve saved you and he stopped me from doing that. I was so angry with him.” I divulged, feeling the familiar pain of shame in my chest as I recalled the way that I had spoken to Miller back then and Bellamy seemed equally shocked by my confession.

“But you got me back. Raven won’t get a redo like we did.” He sighed, seeming even more remorseful as he considered this and I felt at a loss for anything else I could say to help him. 

“I did. And I will always be grateful for that.” I confirmed, squeezing his hand with appreciation, but he barely even reacted to me. “I forgave Miller long before I knew that you had survived. It took a lot of soul searching and I think it probably made a big difference that we had to work together to survive, but I accepted that it wasn’t fair to blame him. I’d even consider us friends now. Raven will forgive you in time. For now though, you need to forgive yourself.” I urged, staring into his face with concern, but he remained distant as if I hadn’t even spoken at all.

“We will need to work together to survive again soon if Kane doesn’t act.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of stress and I tilted my head at him in question. 

“We’ve got an army of grounders surrounding us at this very moment. If the Commander decides to change her loyalties again like she did at Mount Weather, we won't stand a chance.” He presented as if this threat were obvious and I leaned away from him slightly in shock.

This was the last thing that I had expected him to say and it took several minutes for me to form a response as I struggled to understand who he was referring to.

“Indra’s army.” I pointed out firmly, but he stared back at me with an unchanged expression. “They’re here to help us fight Azgeda. This isn’t like before. We’re the thirteenth clan now.” I argued, confused that we were even discussing this and he scoffed at me in an antagonising manner. “We can trust Trikru. Indra has proven herself too many times for you to disrespect her like this.”

“Indra is a grounder! Trusting a grounder just got thirty six of our people killed.” He hissed, seeming as if he were losing his patience with me and I felt my eyes widen at his attitude. “You are too attached to them to see this for the danger that it is. It’s time that you remembered who your people are and started thinking of their safety.” He lectured, already warming into a familiarly protective attitude and I felt my temper rising at the sight of it.

“I am thinking of my people, despite the fact that you are currently behaving like children.” I spat, my sympathy rapidly being pushed aside for anger as he seemed to have suddenly forgotten the months of work that had gone into campaigning for peace, in favour of viewing every grounder in the same light.

Bellamy clenched his jaw at my words, avoiding meeting my eyes as he fidgeted in place and I crossed my arms defensively. A few moments of silence passed as we both attempted to calm ourselves and I couldn’t allow things to fester any longer between us, as I decided that it was time to address his behaviour. 

“If you’re so concerned about our safety, why did you quit the guard?” I asked in a cold tone, allowing my expression to reveal my annoyance for his dishonesty and he whipped his gaze back up to me in panic. “Kane told me. He hoped that I might be able to convince you to reconsider, but if I’m honest, I wouldn’t feel comfortable with you working as a guard right now. I know that you feel like you need to keep us safe, but you’re being paranoid-”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” He yelled as he rose to his feet in anger and I flinched at his unexpected outburst, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re so blinded by your loyalty to Arlo that you can’t see what's right in front of you. My decision to trust a grounder opened us up for betrayal, again. We have to be wiser. Wake up, Indie! Kane’s got you dancing to his tune!”

“And it sounds like Pike’s finally got you dancing to his!” I snapped viciously, causing him to curse under his breath and storm out of the room without another word, leaving the door hanging open behind him.

“Bellamy!” I yelled after him, hardly able to believe that he’d walked out on me when he knew I couldn’t leave and I threw off my covers to prepare to follow him, when Jackson rushed in.

“Woah, woah!” He gasped, glancing back out of the door with disbelief. “Indie, don’t even think about getting out of that bed! You’re not well enough.” He ordered, barging his way over to push me back and due to my weak state, I couldn’t fight as he lifted me slightly to prop me back on the mattress.

“Jackson. I need to-”

“I understand that you want to go after your man, but just give him some time to cool off. He’ll come back when he’s ready.” Jackson argued, blocking the door from my reach and I reluctantly flopped into lying down with exhaustion. 

“You might as well get comfortable, honey. You’re not going anywhere. I need to get these dressings changed, anyway.” He added as he approached to ensure that I was secure in the bed, before he busied himself with treating my burns and I had no energy left to argue as I began to stew in my thoughts. 

❖ ── ✦ ──『✙』── ✦ ── ❖

The effect of the pain relief was so strong that I didn’t even realise that I had fallen asleep until someone was shaking me. It was a battle to pull myself from the allure of sleep, as the exhaustion I felt was so intense that it felt unbeatable. Between blinks, I caught sight of Octavia standing above me with a panicked expression and the fear in her face spurred me into action.

“Indie, wake up! We’ve got trouble.” She hissed urgently and I sat bolt upright so quickly that it made me flinch in pain.

“What’s wrong?” I gasped, almost falling out of bed from dizziness and Octavia grabbed my shoulders to stabilise me.

She seemed to regret her decision to wake me, as I stared at her though unfocused eyes and I knew that she worried over my condition. After a few moments of staring at her insistently, she eventually cracked. 

“It’s Bellamy.” She sighed awkwardly, causing alarm to course through my body and miraculously, I was no longer tired. 

Octavia had to practically restrain me to prevent me from launching out of the bed and she hurried to explain so that I would cease fighting. 

“He’s not hurt!” She gasped in exasperation and I paused in place, viewing her with a feeling of intense dread. “He helped Pike’s crew to sneak guns out of the armoury. Lincoln and a couple of guards caught them trying to sneak out of camp. They were going to kill the army whilst they slept.” She explained as her face displayed her hurt at this discovery and I stuttered in shock, struggling to find any words to respond with.

“What?!” I spat, rubbing at my temples whilst my brain strained to comprehend this situation. Octavia watched me sympathetically as I wondered if I had somehow caused this, replaying our earlier conversation in my mind obsessively.

“That’s not even the worst of it.” She confessed in a careful voice and I could barely bring myself to meet her eyes as I steeled myself for more. “Kane and Abby came out to arrest them all and obviously it caused a scene. So, Pike started using it to preach his bullshit as usual and Bellamy publicly suggested that he run for Chancellor. Indie, he started the whole camp cheering for him.” 

“They’re not going to allow him to run, are they?” I breathed in horror as I understood that she had been correct to feel afraid in this camp and my anxiety was running in circles as I realised that she could be in danger. 

“I don’t think they have much of a choice. He has more support than we realised. There would be riots if they refused.” She mumbled, the colour draining from her face as she considered this and I rubbed at my face with a groan.

“This is insane!” I stated in disbelief, feeling as if I simply wanted to hide beneath my covers, but I knew that she was counting on me, amongst many others.

Pain pulsed in my head as I tried to push through my shock to form a plan, but I was overwhelmed with guilt and betrayal that clouded my judgement. It seemed utterly childish now that I had been so upset over Bellamy lying about his guard jacket when compared to something as extreme as this and I struggled to match this decision to the kind, understanding man that I knew. Octavia watched me with a similarly lost look in her eyes and I was glad to have her at my side to sympathise with the conflicting emotions that I battled. 

“Alright. Did Bellamy get arrested too?” I enquired in a forced attempt at a calm tone and she nodded without hesitation. “Good. It's a long shot, but if I can get in to visit him, then I might just be able to talk some sense into him before it’s too late.”

[we-always-hit-our-ass]

I'm a big sucker for our Doc Roe.... if you want to HC/drabble me something cute and fluffy for him I would be forever indebted to you! :) LOVE YOUR WORK!!

well that makes the two of us- i fucking adore doc roe and i need believe he needs more content made about him. but holy shit- thank you so much, im so glad that you love my work! 💞💕😩

i also want to thank you for requesting this @sherlollydramoine!!💞💞

Words: 1.5k (uuhh might be a little bit more than a few hundred words??)

Warnings: None, surprisingly- i mean it is just fluff with our cajun bby so-

this was one of the ideas i came up with and i even chatted with @floydtab about the idea. so now, i think this is a great opportunity for me to write about it!

Taglist: @floydtab, @deldontplay, @thatsonefishyboi, @noneofurbusinez, @meteora-fc, @hufflepuffpancakes​, @hihosilvers​, @rayleighshughes, @wexhappyxfew

Familiar (Eugene Roe x Reader)

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You didn’t know what made this medic so familiar. You just couldn’t place your finger on it. You felt like you’ve seen him before. You just… Didn’t know where. Was it his face, his dark hair, his lidded eyes, red nose, or his tendencies to be distant and quiet? 

You still didn’t know, but you definitely knew that all of him enraptured you.  Just looking at him gave you a sense of nostalgia and memories of a certain boy popped up in your mind.

You could practically remember Eugene Roe from Bayou Chene like yesterday. He was your best friend and you two were practically attached to the hip. 

Eugene was a shy kid that mostly kept to himself, but he seemed to loosen up around you. He was sweet in his own way, and he was literally a gem you were glad to have found.

You met him when you were six and he was 8. He caught your eye with his shy yet steady demeanor and you approached him with a bright grin on your face. You enjoyed spending time with him, and he enjoyed spending time with you. 

You were glad to have been his friend, for you two shared many moments together. A fond smile was brought on your face as you specifically remembered one particular memory you had of him.

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

You were seated at the edge of the cement sidewalk, while Eugene was crouched in front of you with a worried look in his eyes. You sniffled lightly and the tears in your eyes have long dried after Eugene showed up.

“Did you really hurt yourself again, (Y/N)?”

“I didn’t mean to- You know that, Genie.”

“I feel like you’re doing this on purpose so I can give more ice cream.”

“It was an accident, I swear!”

Eugene pulled out a bandaid from his pocket and he gingerly laid it upon your wound. You winced a bit but Eugene was there to hold your hand. You gave him a grateful smile and the dark-haired boy gave a small grin in return. 

It was sweet of him, really. No matter how many times you’ve hurt or injured yourself, Eugene will always still treat you the best he can. 

Gene always made sure to carry extra bandages around and after you were patched up, you and Gene would try to find the nearest ice cream truck so you two could delight yourselves with the cold desert.

The two of you were seated along the side of the road, ice cream cones in hand. The tune of the ice cream truck faded away as it drove off and the two of you were left alone to sit peacefully on the curb. 

Your (E/C) eyes glanced where ever, and your little misfortune was long forgotten as you and Gene ate. As you finished your ice cream you stared contemplatively at your friend for a few seconds with your chin rested on your palm. 

You looked at him curiously as you pursed your lips in thought. Gene turned from his ice cream and he gave you a questioning look and the corners of your mouth turned upward.

“You know, Genie, with the way you’re treating me, I think you’d make a good doctor when you grow up.”

Gene scoffed lightly as he rolled his eyes in a comic manner. He turned away from you to look forward and slightly shook his head, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips. You move your body to face Eugene and you give him another inquiring look which makes him to cast a small smile. 

“Why, what is it, Roe?”

“I just find it funny that you think I’m going to be a doctor when I grow up. I think I’d rather be anything else.”

“No I’m serious, Genie. If you ever do become a doctor, I know that you’ll be the best one in town. Perhaps in the whole entire country if you try hard enough.”

He smirked lightly and the two of you averted your eyes from each other. You two got lost in your thoughts and the smile on your faces were replaced by a more serene expression. 

The breeze carried the conversation away, the ice cream devoured and long gone.  Both of you sat in silence, apparently too focused on your surroundings to feel that your fingers were intertwined with his.

And also apparently too focused to notice the spark that you two most definitely shared.

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

As you look back on your memories of the Cajun boy, you hear faint footsteps approaching your direction and you slowly turn your gaze to whoever was coming your way. Your (E/C) eyes widened for a split second as they landed on the medic who coincidentally looked like and reminded you of Eugene. 

“Hey, are you alright? You’ve been standing there for a while now.”

There it was- His voice. It brought you out of your temporary stupor and it sounded exactly like the boy you were currently thinking of. The medic’s was deeper of course, but the accent and the undertones of care in his voice were the same as your childhood friend’s. 

You didn’t personally know who this medic was, but you could already feel some sort of connection to him. 

You stood up quickly and you brushed any lingering dust or dirt on your trousers and soon your full attention was on the medic. He seemed to be scrutinizing you and his eyes were focused on your being. You were confused, of course, but you decided to continue and answer his question.

“Oh- yeah, I’m sorry. I was just about to go back anyways-”

“(Y/N)?”

“Well, that’s my name, how did you kn-”

You stopped speaking as your mind seemed to piece everything together, and it all just hit you like a bolt of lightning. Recognition lit up in your eyes and a soft gasp left your lips.

It’s… It’s Eugene. No wonder why you felt like you knew him- It all made sense now. But how were you so clueless to not even recognize your childhood friend? 

Your mouth hung open as you stared at Eugene in complete shock. Before you knew it you threw yourself forward and wrapped your arms around his neck. Warmth and joy surrounded you and you pulled Eugene closer.

You never realized how actually long it has been since you two had last seen each other. It felt so distant and the faded memories weren’t enough. But Eugene is right in front of you now, and you couldn’t help but to sink yourself deeper into his touch.

“I thought I’d never see you again, (Y/N)...”

Eugene’s deep and soft voice and accent rang out in the air, and the atmosphere soon became nothing but phlegmatic. His soft grip left goosebumps through your uniform and the blinding smile on your face somehow shone even brighter.

“You thought you could get rid of me that easily?”

You spoke teasingly into his uniform and you could feel Eugene’s arms wrapping around you as well. His hold never wavered, and the feeling of comfort you got from his touch never changed either.

 You could feel your eyes watering up from pure and utter joy and you let out a few soft sniffles. You pulled your face to look at Eugene with glossy eyes and he gave you a tender grin.

In no time, you both sat on the rummage of the destroyed buildings as you both conversed about the war and old memories you both kept safe in the back of your heads. The fact that Eugene still retained the personality he had from nine years astounded and relieved you. 

Smiles and a few light chuckles were shared between you two. It almost also seemed like you two were never separated in the first place. Time flew fast and it had already been a couple of hours since you and Eugene sat down to catch up with each other.

“Remember what you said, Genie?”

“Hm? What was it, (Y/N)?”

“I remember you saying that you’d never become a doctor, Gene. I mean, you’re not exactly a doctor, but a combat medic is pretty damn close, huh?”

“Well, to be fair, I never said anything about me not becoming a combat medic.”

Eugene pulled out a light smirk and he breathed a sigh. His dark eyes focused on your face and his heart started to beat rapidly. Like some sort of magnetic force, you and Eugene slowly start to inch closer, until both of your shoulders were touching.

Eugene’s calloused hand gingerly went out to hold yours as you both looked at the sun set behind the debris and broken buildings. He tenderly laced his fingers with yours and held on to it for as long as he could. 

It was exactly like that moment you two shared all those years ago. Except, this time, you two weren’t too focused on your environment to overlook the spark and attraction that you two held for each other. 

This time, you both finally acknowledged it and welcomed it with open arms.

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

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holy fucking shit- i’m sorry for taking so long on your request! i just really wanted to make sure that things were good for you and i might or might not have gotten carried away with this- 💞💞

but ahhh hopefully everyone who reads this enjoyed it! thank you, thank you, thank you so much you guys! 😩💞💕💕💕💕💕

[hearteyesemergency]

Buck And Eddie Get Fake Married

Request: Can you write something for #5? “This is where we kiss, right?” Like with oblivious Buck?

A/N: Okay so a fake wedding au? You didn’t ask for it, but it’s what I’m giving you, sorry. I don’t know why y’all put up with me. I hope you like it!

Summary: A previous patient drops by the station to thank 118 one last time, and to see her two favourite firefighters get married, regardless of whether they’re actually together or not, and it might just be a little too much for Eddie’s pining heart.

Warnings: Um? Pushy elderly lady? And extensive mentions of feelings of anxiety.

It was just a week earlier when the team had been called to the home of an elderly woman, who managed to get herself stuck in the rails of her staircase as she used it for balance. She was kind, and stayed in good spirts as they worked around her, careful not to damage her fragile skin any further.

She was one of the good calls. The ones where they left knowing they made a difference, and that the person they had helped was genuinely grateful. It was a surprise to see her visit the station with her daughter, but she was adamant on one more favour from the team before she let them go.

“Before I die, I want to see my two favourite firefighters get married.”

At first, when the elderly lady looked in their direction, Eddie was confused, but once he understood, he scrambled to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Oh, we aren’t together,” Buck denied casually with an easy laugh,

“Bullshit.”

The team jumped. Hearing a sweet, elderly woman swear like that was a whole emotion in itself.

“I’ve seen you two around town with your son, he’s adorable,”

“Thanks,” Buck smiled,

“But we aren’t together,” Eddie reaffirmed,

“Come now, I’m sure you two could give a Good Samaritan her last wish,” Chimney pushed.

Eddie was sure he could throw up. Did everyone have to keep implying he and Buck were together? He had been dealing with his increased fondness towards the other man in his own time, he really didn’t need the team thrusting them together. What if Buck didn’t feel the same way? Eddie was sure the ground would swallow him whole if he had to go through that.

“Let’s do it!” Hen clapped,

“No, no, no, not here! Somewhere bright! And beautiful,”

“There’s a park right down the road,”

Eddie glared at her.

How was he supposed to keep his feelings at bay and figure out what they all mean if he is going to marry Buck within the half hour. Why did they have to put him on the spot like this. He can’t fake marry the man he is potentially in love with, he might as well just tear his heart out and let the truck roll over it.

“Perfect! Bobby can officiate it and we will be the witnesses,” Chimney clapped,

“We can do it on the truck... bring some good publicity to the station,”

“Uh, are we all forgetting what happened the last time we did that?” Eddie tried,

“You’re not going to deny an old lady her dying wish are you?” The woman blinked at Eddie expectantly.

By now, Buck was also stiff beside him, the entire thing had been blown way out of proportion. They were getting married, although fake, in a very public place in a very realistic way. Eddie dared at peak at Buck, who looked back at him. He was shocked, but it was in Buck’s nature to quickly adapt, and Eddie knew that he’d get on board with the idea if someone said even one more time that it was a good idea.

“I’ll buy the beers,” Chimney bargained,

“Ready to get married, husband,” Buck slapped Eddie on the shoulder.

Everything inside him tingled at that. Husband. Off of Buck’s tongue. It was too much, Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if he fainted and fell right off the top of the fire truck later on. Still, he put one foot in front of the other, and while unwilling, we climbed into the truck anyway.

His hands sweat the entire way there. Eddie must have run them down his trousers a thousand times. The worst part, Buck had become far more comfortable and friendly with the woman on the drive. He was completely calm about the whole thing now. And Eddie didn’t want to say he was jealous, but... when she put her hand on his arm and he smiled back at her... he was jealous.

Why the fuck couldn’t that have been him?

Eddie was a little relieved when they arrived. It was a pretty quiet day at the park, or so it looked. A crew of firefighters with a truck always drew a crowd in a few short minutes. It took some time to get angles and the set up right, and then there they were, just the two of them on the truck, about to be wed.

Bobby stood with the rest of the team on the ground, surrounded by the spectators when he began. He cursed everyone who had encouraged them to hold hands like a real couple during the ‘ceremony.’ It gave Eddie’s brain too much to process.

How could he focus on Bobby’s voice when Buck’s hands were right there in his? His head felt stuffy, and he was actually a little worried he made pass out. The entire thing flew by, and before he knew it, they’d reached the most important part of the ceremony.

“I now pronounce you, husband and husband,”

“This is where we kiss, right?”

“Usually,” Eddie nodded,

“Do we actually have to do that?”

“Well! Kiss!” Chimney egged them on.

The boys looked at each other as the crowd on the ground below them all began to cheer.

Someone had it out for Eddie, he was sure. This may very well be the death of him.

Buck looked at him and shrugged, and before Eddie could protest anymore, Buck had a hand on his waist, another on his cheek, and their lips were pressed together.

Eddie was shocked for a split second, then all he could comprehend was Bucks lips on his, and how he really, really didn’t want it to end. So, he kissed back. Maybe a little too eagerly, but Buck wasn’t pulling back either.

Both of Bucks hands rested on his cheeks now, and Eddie couldn’t help but reach up and hold them, he figured that was safest. If he had his way, his hands would be all over Buck, but that wasn’t exactly park nor audience friendly. Though, Eddie was pretty sure he could get used to Buck’s big hands holding him still to kiss him.

He was weak under Buck, ready to give him whatever he wanted.

Buck tugged on his belt, pulling them closer, and Eddie couldn’t resist wrapping his arms around Buck’s neck, letting the kiss deepen.

“It’s a children’s park!” Athena’s voice broke through their moment, “please don’t make me arrest you for-“

Eddie gasped as he sprung back, completely out of Buck’s hold, leaving the other firefighter stunned, hands still frozen in the position they’d been in on Eddie’s waist seconds earlier.

He could hear the crowd below them cheering, but it was like an outer body experience. Like they weren’t really there. Buck still hadn’t moved, and Eddie’s head was rapidly telling him to abort mission. It went too far, it was too much.

Now he had screwed everything up. Screwed up everything for Christopher. He cursed himself as he made his way to the edge, ready for his feet to be on solid ground where he could run and run and run until he collapsed in a pile of self pity. He wasn’t ready to face Buck’s rejection yet.

“Eds. Eddie!”

Eddie was sure he was about to just throw himself over the edge rather than climb down safely, but Buck caught him just in time, and now there they were again. Still stuck atop a fire truck, collapsed almost on top each other, Buck the only thing keeping Eddie from ungracefully going over the edge.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I- we’ll forget it, yeah? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fuck it up,”

“You didn’t fuck it up.”

And if only Buck knew just how true that was.

“It’s fine. It’s fine, it’s just...” Eddie couldn’t find the words to say,

“This can’t change anything,”

“For Christopher,”

“For Christopher!” Buck agreed, “...but I mean... If you liked it, maybe...”

“Maybe what?” Eddie pushed,

“Maybe we could try it again some time... maybe not with a bunch of strangers staring at us, because I really don’t even want to go down there and face it once, let alone again,”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,”

“Wait, really?”

A weight fell off Eddie’s shoulders, and he laughed. Real and loud.

“Yes, really... but like, after we talk, because I’m not ready to-“

“Yeah, no, totally agreed,” Buck nodded, “we have the rest of our lives, right?”

Eddie could’ve slapped Buck. Did he have to say cute shit right now? Did they not just agree to put their feelings to the side until they talk about it? Eddie was pretty sure the first chance they get alone was in fact not going to be filled with a single word at all, probably a lot of lip work, but no talking. But could anyone blame him when Buck looked like... that.

[theythedisaster]

SAFE ZONE

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Words: 1,749

Warning: Slight Angst, Mentions of death

Summary:

Sometimes he could be a real pain in the ass. He could be annoying, angry, cruel and snappy, but Bakugo surely was always there whenever you needed him. He could also lend a very good shoulder on which to cry on. So you were in luck, because you really needed one.

 

He had never liked admitting things like these. Doing so was like going against his very being, but there was no way around it. 

   He was worried about you. 

   That was Bakugo's line of thought as he sat before the television in your shared apartment. His eyes stared at the breaking news, your form followed from a distance as you ran with two little boys in your arms. Tears ran down your cheeks. Your face was dirty, your hero costume almost unrecognizable, your hair had long left your always put together braid that he helped you with in the mornings. There was smoke everywhere, so much that he was sure it was mere luck that the camera man had the opportunity to catch the scene. But just like he could see it, everyone else could and it was gone in an instant. 

The sight of your flushed, wet cheeks made him feel uneasy. It had just been for a straight second, but he had seen tears. He had seen you cry many times before, since the academy days. So he was rather skilled at noticing the slightest changes on your face. Everyone else might have mistaken your crying eyes for irritated ones because of the smoke, but he knew better. He knew you better than anyone else. 

  Bakugo was sure that no one would suspect you, because a hero knew better than to cry in a disastrous situation. Especially you, [hero name], the always collected and strategically exceptional pro-hero. The one that had saved countless lives in some of the worst situations in these past four years of her pro-hero career. In every situation, you had managed to save everyone under your line of sight, giving you also the name of 'The protector'. 

    But that was exactly the problem. 

   There was no way that that title given by the own citizens hadn't gotten to you. He knew it put the utmost pressure on your shoulders, given you the idea of becoming the perfect hero. The one that would save everyone in which you laid eyes upon. 

   So, seeing you lose your collected demeanor was a big indicator that something was terribly wrong. 

   "We are reporting from the edges of the current battlefield. The pro-hero Deku has been holding off an unknown villain for the past hour as heroes [hero name], Uravity, Kamui Woods, Creati and  Froppy have joined forces  to rescue the victims of the primary attack." The slightly desperate voice of the reporter brought Bakugo back to his senses. The camera man seemed to try and get more shots of the scene, but the smoke wasn't going to let them. It was a wall behind the masked reporter. "There's a massive wall of smoke behind us, so we cannot really see anything past it. We don't know if our heroes and fellow citizens are safe and we certainly do not know for how much longer this will conti-"

  "Look out!" 

   Bakugo stood straight from a jump when he heard your voice for a second before the camera shut off. 

  "Reporter Ito! Reporter Ito! Is everything alright?" 

  The desperate shouts of the news hosts fell into the background as he stood there, struggling to breathe to calm himself down. His heart was racing and the hold he had on the remote proved to be too much for it to handle. Shattered, he let the remote fall from his hands as he sat helplessly on the couch. 

  Why of all days, did it have to be in his free week that this happened? He could have been there with you, with everyone. If he were there he knew that that villain would have been suppressed long ago. No one could manage a pair of heroes like him and that nerd joining forces. If he was there he would have most probably... 

   No, there was no reason to be throwing 'what-ifs' now. He had just woken up when he sat to watch the news and found out about the situation. There was no way he could know something like this would happen and there was no way he would get there in time now. It was almost at the other side of the country, a few hours at the least.

   Even if he hated to admit it, he was sure that Deku would take care of things like he always does. He knew he would prefer to die before letting any of his teammates perish again. 

   All he could do now was trust your strength and the strength of everyone else. It had always been difficult for him... Trusting people. But he had found that it was easier to do so with you. So at least, he would trust you with your own life. He knew he could do that much. 

 

 

   It seemed like an eternity, but night arrived at last and so did you along with it. The soft creak of the door announced your arrival to your 4 year long partner. 

   Your head was hanging lower than usual, your shoulders slumped forwards, your feet dragging. Overall, you looked as if you had been carrying insanely heavy baggage on your back for a long time. You didn't seem tired in the same way you did every day. This form was new to him, he had never seen something remotely similar coming from you. And it alarmed him. 

  The young man walked towards you, who stopped in the middle of the hallway upon seeing him. He stood there, observing you, making you feel tiny. You couldn't even bring yourself to look him in the face. You were certain that if you did, everything would crumble and causing him more worry was something you weren't really fond of.

You knew he had seen everything. He always wakes up just before 10 in his free days and immediately proceeds to watch the news. So there was no way he didn't get to watch the whole live broadcast. Word even got to you that they  managed to record you in action. He most probably even caught your slip up. 

  There was no way to know for how long the two of you just stood there, him observing you and you avoiding his eyes. But at last, he spoke. 

  "Hey." He said simply, reaching for your hand.  His voice low, a raspy whisper. Just as if it wasn't only the two if you. 

   Your body immediately relaxed after his warm touch. A strong relief washed over you when you heard his raspy voice. Your eyes finally found their way to his and it was then when you realized that you had slipped up and let your guard down once again. 

  Bakugo's face contorted with pain when he watched your eyes fill with tears. They spilled fast and smoothly. There was no doubt that they were filled with emotion. Which one exactly? He wasn't sure. He wasn't all too versed on detecting feelings himself. 

  His free hand grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into his chest. His embrace was quiet, but it spoke more than words could, told you so much more than what his mouth ever could. The softness of his gesture got to you. You crumbled. 

  And it was then that you really broke down. 

  "I- I couldn't save her! I couldn't," you choked, "keep them my promise." You sobbed loudly, louder than you had ever sobbed before. "I couldn't save their mother, Katsuki!" Your hands trembled on his chest, the hold you had on his shirt increasing with your cries. 

   His arms tightened around you, his face buried on your hair at the top of your head. At this moment, he wished he could take away your suffering. He wished he could say something that would calm your heart, but he knew there was nothing he could do other than lend himself to you. 

   He held you as you choked on your own cries, incoherent words left your hasty mind and aching heart. 

   It wasn't clear to you when, but at some point you exhausted yourself to sleep. When you opened your eyes, you were resting on top of an almost dozed Bakugo. His shirt was soaked with your tears, his face facing the ceiling as his body rested sideways on the couch. His hold around you still strong, protective. 

  You pushed yourself up from him, startling him awake in the process. He blinked at you, quickly lifting himself and supporting his body by his elbows. He watched you with a scowl, not liking the fact that you were avoiding his eyes again. 

  "I'm sorry." You apologized, keeping your eyes glued to the darker spot on your boyfriend's shirt.

  Said thing only got you a flick on the center of your forehead. 

  Your hands flew to the damaged spot, rapidly moving your gaze to meet Katsuki's. "What are you saying sorry for, idiot?" You just watched the tender look on his eyes, words not forming. He reached again, pulling you into him. "There's nothing to be sorry for. You tried your best. I bet she's grateful you saved her children." 

 He felt how you trembled, his embrace around you waist tightening. 

 You sniffed softly, and let his gentle thumb pick the tear that rolled down your cheek before facing your beloved. You dried the tears that followed with the back of your hand, but it was nearly futile. They just kept coming. You couldn't help it, the aching of your soul echoing through your whole being and forcing them out. Nevertheless, among those tiny tears, you offered him a small smile. 

 He offered you one of his own, running his hand through your hair. "Let's take a bath and go to bed. You need to rest." The gentleness of his voice was rather foreign for you, but not a complete stranger by any means. 

 Your boyfriend stood, offering his hand to help you out of the couch. And even after helping you out and up, he didn't let go.

 Maybe your heart was hurting and your soul mourning a mother that didn't belong to you, but would now never leave your memories. Maybe you wouldn't be able to stop hurting for a while, but with Katsuki by your side you knew you could go through it. This man really didn't know how much of an influence he had on you. He really didn't know that he was indeed, your safe zone.

[miraculousmumma]

#9, Adrienette! I need the fluff right now, too!

Hi!  Thanks for the ask!  Sorry it took me a couple of days, life is CRAYYY-ZIIIIIII at the moment!!  I went a little off course with this one, but this idea spoke to me so I went with it!  I liked the idea of Adrien saying it in front of everyone!

9.  ‘You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.’ - Adrienette

‘I only joined the school system when I was thirteen.  I had no idea just what a huge effect it would have on my life.’

Adrien Agreste, head of his graduating class at Lycée René Decartes, spoke clear and proud to his fellow students, every one of them having touched his life in some way.

‘We have all faced trials and tribulations that have made us the people we are today.  We have overcome adversity, taken on challenges that we may have never considered without the love and support of our friends.  Together we have figured out who we are, who we want to be, found ourselves on many levels, and I’m more than proud to call you all friends.  We have grown, from innocent children, to curious teens, to the verge of adulthood, and now we take the final step together.’

Adrien paused to clear his throat as he glanced at the next paragraph, the most personal of his speech, the one he had fought tears to complete when it came down to it, when he had to put into words all the feelings he had for those who had returned them for the first time in his young life.

‘For each and every one of you, I have fond memories.  Kim and Alix, arguing and competing, never besting one another but remaining friends throughout.’  The pair laughed and ribbed one another.

‘Nathaniel, your artistic talents have brought us together, be it the creation of our yearbook or winning the annual art and design prize.’  The red head blushed the same colour as his hair, not liking the attention yet still appreciating Adrien’s words.

‘Max, your genius knows no bounds, and without it many a situation would have remained sticky.’  Max nodded his thanks.

‘Mylene and Ivan.  You are goals.  Your relationship, despite your differences, shows us anything is possible.’  The couple nuzzled closer, Ivan raising his hand in a wave of thanks.

‘Rose, like the sweetest flower, you also have thorns, but only for those who aren’t careful with you.  Juleka, proving being yourself is more important than what others think.  And together you’re so beautiful.’  Rose gave a small squeal of excitement while Juleka kissed her cheek.

‘Sabrina, a true friend who always gives her all.’  Sabrina couldn’t help but preen slightly, even as Chloé beside her rolled her eyes at not having been mentioned yet, but that soon changed to a heartfelt smile.  ‘Chloé, my first and oldest friend.  I’ve watched you grow from a spoilt brat to a, well, a slightly less spoilt brat, but that’s okay, that’s who you are, and you’re less the demanding diva nowadays and more the generous sweetheart I know you’re still trying to hide.’

‘Ridiculous.’  She muttered, but couldn’t hide her smile.

‘Alya.’  Adrien’s eyes tracked to her.  ‘Your reporters instincts aren’t always on point…’

‘Hey!’  She argued with a laugh.

‘But you never give up.’  He continued.  ‘You admit when you’re wrong and you learn from it.  All of which will no doubt serve you well as you move on to the next stage of your plan to become the best journalist this side of the Seine.’

‘Of the world, thank you!’  She quipped, causing a small ripple of laughter to erupt through the crowd.

‘Nino.’  Adrien’s smile warmed more as he made eye contact with his first true friend.  ‘Without you I would still have felt alone.  You included me when I had no one, you made me feel welcome, helped me overcome so many things.  I can’t even begin to explain just how grateful I am that I get to call you my main dude.  And you helped expand my musical tastes.’

‘Pleasure, dude.’  Nino’s voice was full of emotion as he tapped his chest with his fist twice.

‘And finally, Marinette.’  His eyes met hers as she sat straighter in her seat.  She knew he would be coming to her next but it still surprised her.  ‘We got off on completely the wrong foot all those years ago, but within days you became such a big part of my life that give thanks every day.  You’re strong, beautiful, kind, inspiring, selfless, loving, and I could spend the rest of the day telling you just how wonderful you are and what you mean to me, but words will never be enough.  You’re the other half of me I never knew was missing, your love and friendship have made me the man I am today.’  He swallowed as his eyes filled with tears, knowing he had never meant anything as much as he meant these words.  ‘Without a doubt, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I love you.’

Marinette’s cheeks flushed the deepest pink, her own eyes welling up as he spoke, as he declared his love for her before all of their friends, before her family, before the press assembled who wouldn’t miss the graduation of Paris’ finest teen model.  Alya took her hand and squeezed it slightly, reassuring her she was there.

Adrien cleared his throat and blinked rapidly to dispel the tears from his eyes.  ‘Anyway.  My class, my friends, my true love, we are taking our final step from children to adults in the same way we have taken every step up until now.  Together.  I invite you all to now applaud and congratulate this years graduating class.’

Applause broke out across the auditorium as the ceremony ended and Adrien bypassed the stairs, jumping off the front of the stage before Marinette even as she got to her feet, sweeping her up in his arms.  Burying her face in his shoulder she squeezed him to her tightly.  ‘I love you, chaton.’  She murmured.  ‘You were amazing.’

Adrien leaned back far enough to look up at her.  ‘Only because you make me that way, my lady.’

[theeternalspace]

In Memoriam 12

Summary: The metal tree had always fascinated the Prince.

Only, it wasn’t a tree.

And, as it turned out, he wasn’t really a Prince. Instead he was… a side of someone’s personality? He doesn’t remember Thomas, or the other sides, those who call themselves his friends. He doesn’t really remember anything, not even his own name, no matter the efforts of Patton, Logan or Virgil. He must venture back into the Wardrobe door, back to the metal tree in an attempt to recover his missing memories and regain everything he has lost.

But perhaps some doors are best left closed for a reason. And perhaps some personas should remain in the ground where they have been buried.

Story Warnings: Sympathetic/Grey Deceit Sanders. He is trying his best you guys. Anxiety. Self doubt and self loathing. Fantasy fighting. Verbal fighting. Threatening behaviour. Blood and injury. Memory loss. Drowning. Near death.

Previous || Next

For a pregnant, tense pause, there was silence. 

Deceit seemed to have barely noticed his arrival, still lounging in the throne without a care in the world. It had been a long time since Virgil had last seen him without his hat and although the crown was truly a magnificent substitute, it still showed his head and Deceit had always been remarkably sensitive about his hair, saying it wasn’t right for a side like him. That it was too soft and fluffy, and as a result implied that he was soft in turn when really, Deceit was a lean, mean, fighting machine that needed his reputation to be as tough as he really was. 

Virgil didn’t understand that logic. He liked to pretend to be strong of course, he needed to be strong and scary. The only way he could ever make anyone listen to him when they were younger was by being the scariest thing in the room and of course being soft didn’t really work with that. But there was a time and a place for such things. Virgil had always seen being a scary Anxiety as a job. A very important job that was dear to his heart and he would quite literally work himself to exhaustion in order to protect Thomas, but a job all the same. One that was separate from who he was when he didn’t need to be on guard. Sometimes it was safe to leave Thomas in the hands of Logic or Morality and he got to be a softer Anxiety as a result, where nobody could see. 

So yes, he was scary most of the time, just the way he liked it. 

He also really liked it when someone he trusted played with his hair, it calmed a lot of his anxieties, it soothed his nerves in a way that was almost indescribable. Nobody was going to touch his hair unless he trusted them so nobody would know it was soft. Easy. It was rare that he actually got that level of relaxation of course, first it was only Deceit who could touch his hair. And then, a lot later - a lot, lot later and Virgil didn’t want to think of all the years between one family and the other, when he was so very cold and alone all of the time - there was Patton. There was maybe the others too, but he had yet to work up the courage to ask either Logan or Roman to calm him like that. 

Not that there was any way to know if Deceit had even been serious about his complaints, only the end result in that he almost always had a hat on his head. That he really cared about the illusion of control and strength over actually enjoying any pleasant moments. The hat itself had gone through various iterations before he had found the perfect hat and it was so strange to see him like this now. 

The crown reminded Virgil of the last time he had seen Deceit without his hat. It was the angriest he had ever seen Deceit and that was saying something. 

They had been so young, and in Virgil’s case so innocent. Deceit had always known better though, he had always had the full measure of the darkest elements of Thomas’ mind. It was like he was so fond of saying; it takes a liar, to know a liar. He had known that they lied when they lured a young Anxiety away to an abandoned corner of Thomas’ mind with the promise of fun. Virgil might be paranoid to a fault but on that day he had let his optimistic hope and pathetic desires for friendship override the paranoia that they were planning a nasty trick and he had followed the Dark Sides whenever they wanted. 

It had obviously been nothing but a nasty trick and they had wanted to see just how far they could push Anxiety in order to discover what effect that would have on Thomas. For science, they had gleefully told him before locking him in the dark. Alone, lost and oh so very scared. Anxiety had tried his best to be brave, had cling to all the negative feelings and attempted to shield them from his young host. He didn’t want to hurt Thomas when there was no need to make him panic. This was Anxiety’s problem, his fears and his fears alone. He had to hold them to himself, he had to make sure that none of his own terror leaked out and affected Thomas. That was exactly what they wanted, which was another reason to not do it - as though Anxiety needed a better reason than his desire to protect Thomas. 

It was hard to be brave of course, when he was all alone, in the dark and the cold. It was hard to be brave when they started whispering mocking truths to him. Always from a distance, always so that he couldn’t quite place where they were coming from, the cruel comments leaving him as confused and as disoriented as before.  

Anxiety wasn’t very good at thinking up positives but he had tried to hold onto anything good in the dark. He tried to hold onto the thought he was protecting Thomas, that he was helping him by making sure he didn’t feel this. If nothing else, it taught him exactly what body language to look out for when years down the line, some popular kids tried the same trick on Thomas. 

Not that it had been much comfort at the time.

Those memories of misery were disjointed, great patches of dark broken up by moments of terror and Virgil had no idea how long he had been locked in there. No matter how tired he became, they didn’t let him sleep, flooding the area with noise whenever it seemed likely that he might pass out. The only time he saw light was during those moments when they would flood the area with a strobe light in the hope of causing him greater discomfort and terror, the world reduced to an inescapable flashing nightmare. 

It was enough to let him know he was in a large empty room, devoid of doors. Only they could make the door reappear, only they could let him out. He couldn’t run away from this. It had felt like an eternity with no end in sight. They laughed at his tears, at his pleas to please stop this, to let him go, that he was sorry for whatever it was that he had done. Anxiety would have done almost anything to get out of that room, begging until his throat was sore, voice reduced to little more than a raspy whisper. 

Only when he had exhausted himself past the point of no return did the taunts change to a one sided conversation. It was so easy to get out of here they promised. So simple. All he had to do was do what he was created to do. He was a trait, a figment, a side of Thomas. He embodied part of his hosts personality and all they wanted was to see just what Anxiety could really do when he set his mind to it. 

They would let him out only when he flooded Thomas with as much adrenaline as he could and not before. They needed to see what would happen if Anxiety triggered a panic attack of monumental scale. All he had to do was let Thomas feel what he was feeling right now. After all, they purred, he had said he would do anything if they agreed to let him out and him doing his job was such a little thing to ask.  

Almost anything. Deliberately hurting Thomas for no reason other than spite or just to see what would happen was beyond the pale, and always had been. 

He had pulled his hood up and over his head in lieu of answering and tried to endure. 

The memories became increasingly patchy after that moment of defiance. Virgil couldn’t help but feel a little grateful that he was missing patches of that horror. He remembered enough. That was different from nothing, from being completely devoid of all memories and unsure of a place because of it. 

It was a conscious choice on Virgil’s part, not to go digging in his mind for those missing moments because everything that came before or after them proved that it would just be more pain, more terror, more scared, alone, cold, so cold and wet near the end when they had filled the room with ice cold water, all the way to the ceiling. Virgil wished he couldn’t remember the way his nails had clawed uselessly against the walls, the way he struggled and fought against the rising water, all to no avail. In mere moments the whole room was completely flooded, water appearing from nowhere and there was nowhere for it to go. 

He thought he was going to drown. Even then, Virgil refused to give in, to let them have what they wanted. Spite motivated him to hold it all in, even if it killed him. He had woken up coughing and spluttering for breath, soaking wet but otherwise unharmed. His oversized hoodie seemed to take forever to dry from that, the fabric sticking to every inch of him, his favorite item of clothing becoming a skintight cage, tainting all the positive memories it held. It was a long time before Anxiety was able to feel comfortable wearing it again and by that time his views on Deceit had changed drastically. 

The wet hoodie chilled him down to the bone, literally and mentally. He was going to die here, Anxiety had known it. At least, he hoped he would die here, because if he died that would mean he hadn’t given in to what they wanted and Thomas was still safe. He didn’t remember the other taunts that flew fast and furious over him, or much of the way the temperature would shift so rapidly, only flashes of moments when he was baking hot and then inescapably cold. 

What he did remember however, as clear and as crisp as day was the moment it had ended. 

A whole wall had suddenly crumbled into dust, bright light streaming in and filling the whole space. Instinctively, Virgil had thrown his arm up and over his eyes, expecting it to start flashing, eyes already watering from the intensity after so long left in the dark. This was another one of the Dark Sides tricks surely - only it wasn’t.

The light dimmed after a few seconds, dropping to a more manageable level. It still hurt, but it was enough to make Virgil slowly lower his arm, blinking the water in his eyes away rapidly. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t going to give into them. They would only laugh at his tears, find it hilarious that pathetic little Anxiety was so bad at his job that he would rather cry than do it. 

There was someone on the other side of the light, walking closer to him, and Anxiety found himself tensing, waiting for the blow that was surely coming. Nobody came into his cell, that was part of their punishment, that was part of what they did. If he wanted contact, if he wanted someone to try and breathe in time to - well, all that anxiety was inside of him for a reason. What did they want? What were they going to do now? What new and terrifying punishment had they come up with? 

The figure had solidified into Deceit and Anxiety had never been happier to see that yellow eye.

He had come to save Anxiety, had physically fought them and more than that had won. He swept into that room slash cage like some avenging angel - or maybe some demon, because the anger on his face had been breathtaking to say the least and Anxiety could well believe that those that stood in his way had exploded into fire and brimstone at his expression. The heat he could almost feel from it was welcome, Anxiety unable to help but lean towards him as though he could get warm from that anger alone. A rage which had somehow grown when he had taken a proper look at the scared and scrawny Anxiety. 

Deceit had gathered him up in his arms as though he had weighed nothing and carried him out of there, mumbling soothing words the whole time. He took him home, he helped him. None of the main sides ever knew where Anxiety had been or what had happened to him, something that suited Anxiety just fine. Even if Creativity had made some rather cruel jokes at his expense, accusing him of not caring about his role, about their host. 

Those comments had been nothing compared to the Dark Side's words. Creativity had said what he had out of malice sure, but it had also been because he had cared enough about Thomas to worry. He would never want Anxiety to hurt Thomas. There was no way he would ever tell them the truth. They didn’t need that on their minds, burdening their happy days with thoughts of just how dark Thomas’ mind could become. They were just lucky that Thomas never took much notice of the darker impulses, that their strength faded as the years passed. Virgil - as Anxiety became - never stopped keeping guard though. He had let them get the jump on him once before, he wouldn’t let them do that to the others. No matter what they might say or how they might act, Anxiety wasn’t letting them get anywhere near Thomas or the rest. And still Deceit looked after him. 

Anxiety had thought he was the coolest side there was in the whole mind.  

Deceit had been a good brother then. When had it all gone wrong? When had Virgil first started to really notice the lies and realise so many of them were directed at him? When had he first realised that Deceit would turn on him if the situation called for it, that he would never be as important to Deceit as the other side was to him? When did he first catch him out in a needless lie? The seeds had been sown so long ago that Virgil couldn’t even remember it, only the bitter harvest they had been left with. 

It was hard to trust anything Deceit said after that, it was hard to believe that he even liked him, let alone loved him like he claimed. 

When had he first looked at Deceit and begun to find him wanting? When had he slipped him into the group of Dark Sides, the ones he could never relax around, could never trust ever again?

“Deceit,” Virgil repeated, shaking his head a little and snapping his thoughts back to the present. It was pointless to think about what had once been, it was just added torture on top of everything else. He didn’t need or want to wonder about the side that had saved him and how much of his brother was left in the snake that apparently stole memories for fun. 

Slowly, Deceit tilted his head to the side, staring at Virgil with his one snake eye, the gaze as chilling as ever. It never failed to make him want to fidget uncomfortably, always so very much aware that he was being judged in turn. Strange, how after all this time and everything that lay between them, the past a naked sword, some part of Virgil still wanted to be accepted by Deceit. A tiny part of him wanted to just step forward and punch him. Then hug him. Maybe punch him again afterwards. 

It was complicated.

Virgil just wanted his brother back, the one that had saved him, the one who told him he loved him, that he would always look out for him, protect him. He wanted to hear those sentiments coming from Deceit’s mouth and pretend that everything was like when they were kids, when things were simpler. 

If only he could be sure that what he was hearing was the truth. 

“Ah, Virgil. Come to thank me for your gift?” Deceit asked at last, still making no effort to move from his admittedly very comfortable looking throne despite the material it was made from. Virgil couldn’t help but wonder what it was like to have a throne. Roman probably had one, he could always ask him, he would get an honest answer at least. Or, rather, he would, if Roman had his memories and knew what he was talking about. 

“My gift?” Virgil repeated the words back to Deceit as though he could somehow change their meaning and what was thoughts of thrones compared to the idea that all of this had been his fault? For a moment panic swept over him, stronger even than his rage. Surely this wasn't his fault? He had never asked for anything like this, he had never wanted something like this to happen. 

Deceit gave an over the top sigh, as though disappointed in Virgil and finally moved. He swung his legs from over the armrest to stand at last. The movement was as slow and as over the top as the sigh had been, each motion deliberately exaggerated and drawn out. Deceit wanted Virgil to know just how annoying he was finding this whole conversation, how pointless it was from his perspective. Deceit had always been so very good at making him feel small, barely there at all and he knew that that was what he was trying to do now. 

This time it didn’t work. It made Virgil’s blood boil instead. There was no worry of the cold getting to him now, not when he could cling to the fire of his rage. He refused to back down or look away, to give away any of the visual clues that would show he was affected. Virgil wasn’t the same little scared Anxiety that Deceit had looked after. Now, he was a grown up pissed off Virgil and it was his turn to be protecting someone from a bully.

Deceit seemed to notice that too, his movements shifting into something more energetic, dropping the lazy pretence. 

Now his stride was purposeful, that of some cat predator stalking towards his prey and no matter how angry Virgil felt, he couldn’t help but acknowledge that he should feel nervous at that movement, so reminiscent of times when Deceit had jumped in to protect him, when he had been something worthy of being scared of. It took practise, to know how to be that kind of scary, the thing the bad guys were afraid of but it was a role that Deceit had seemed born to play. 

He moved down from the throne, towards Virgil, hips swaying, a confident smirk curled on his lips as though he knew something Virgil didn’t. Or if he was still the same big brother that had all the answers while baby brother Anxiety knew nothing. There was a dangerous feel to the air around them now, something charged and almost electric. Gone was the forced casualness of before, the artificial laziness. Virgil had never been on the receiving end of that look and walk before, despite all their clashes in the recent past. It was far scarier than he wanted to admit - but then Deceit would know that. Deceit always knew when any of them were lying, even an internal whisper to themselves. 

The other side came even closer, close enough to touch. Virgil hated it when people touched him without his permission, the dramatic opposite to his feelings of people playing with his hair when he knew and expected it. Deceit knew just how much he hated it - so really, Virgil wasn’t surprised when Deceit lifted a gloved hand, letting it drift near his face. 

It brushed against Virgil’s cheek in what he was sure was supposed to be a reassuring and tender pat to the face. It felt like anything but. He didn’t pull away though, his legs stuck in place as if he was slowly turning into one of the stone statues that littered the room. All he could do was stand there and focus on his breathing, to keep it steady as Deceit kept touching. It was degrading, it was humiliating and more than all that, it was deliberate. 

False displays of kindness were Deceit’s stock in trade and Virgil had been on the receiving end of too many of them to ever trust the softness to be genuine. Even if, sometimes... sometimes they had been real. Sometimes Deceit had given him love and care without expecting anything in return. Sometimes when they had been children, Deceit would have gathered Virgil up in his arms and promise him a world of safety and love, and Virgil would have believed it too. 

No longer though. He couldn’t afford to any longer. 

Virgil refused to give in to the worry that was slowly seeping through his mind like poison, to back down like his mind was starting to tell him to do so. Some part of him felt like a rat cornered on all sides and the snake was rearing back, ready to strike. He was still angry. Virgil had to remind himself that he was still angry, had to push everything aside in order to focus on the only thing that actually mattered here. Not his own feelings, not their shared past. Not even the deeply buried hope that a relationship long withered could somehow burst back into bloom. No, the only thing Virgil was going to allow himself to focus on, was Roman.

“What gift?” he repeated. Words were spoken through gritted teeth, Virgil staring definitely at Deceit and refusing to acknowledge the hand. Even that had its own dangers, because it meant looking deep into eyes that had the power to pin him even more securely in place, eyes that could captivate and enthral in equal measures. Virgil had lost count of the times Deceit had used his gaze to help calm him after a bad panic attack. 

“Roman of course. I thought you would appreciate a reset on him. How is the new and improved Roman doing? I trust you have got him all trained by now?”

“... A reset? New and improved?” Virgil couldn’t believe what he was hearing. As if this was a good thing, as if Roman was somehow better by being lost and not himself anymore. And then, by implication, that it was Virgil’s fault that things weren’t back to normal now, that Virgil hadn’t done better by moulding him into his own version of who he should be. 

That was a terrible, terrible idea. Virgil knew now that he worked well with Creativity if both of them were equally, he knew he helped and he also knew that he was more creative than he had first realised. It was just that Virgil’s own personal brand of creative thoughts were not exactly... positive ones. He could think up more monsters under the bed than Roman could think up heroes to slay them. Working together, they could create epic worlds with monsters and heroes in equal measure, adventures for Roman to go on or Thomas to explore in dreams and word. 

That didn’t mean he should be in control of it though because if Virgil was in charge of Creativity then Thomas wouldn’t get anything done because any idea would only come with all the flaws and possible dangers. Without Roman at the helm, the worlds would die, just like this one was, collapsing under the weight of its own worries and doubts. Their temperaments were suited to the aspects of Thomas that they represented and trouble only arose when they were either too powerful or too lacking in their own departments. When one would try and shout over the other and assume they knew best, that Thomas should only listen to them and they attempted to usurp the others roles. 

Virgil knew all that. He couldn’t look away though, staring into those odd eyes that were filling his world, and the gaze coupled with the words... well he couldn’t help the doubts that started to seep into his mind like traitorous little whispers niggling away at his anger. Reality was always such a fluid thing for Virgil to start with. He was wrong so often, his fears overcoming everything else and it was laughably easy to make him doubt himself, to question if he was right to be angry, right to think anything he was thinking.

Logan said that knowledge was power but Virgil couldn’t see any of that here. He knew his own weakness, his own flaws so well and yet it didn’t stop him wondering if he had been in the wrong to not try and shape Roman into who he had once been. Not into a Creativity that was Anxiety inspired - Virgil would never do that to him - but he knew Roman so well. It wouldn’t have been hard to tell him proper details about himself, to show him carefully cut moments so that he was a prince again, so that he could fool people into being a mask of himself. It wouldn’t have been the same as actually regaining his memories but it would have created a Roman similar to who he used to be.

Virgil had wanted Roman to learn who he was for himself but maybe that had been a mistake. 

Then again, maybe not.

God, he didn’t know. He didn’t know anything and it hurt, the doubts weighing him down and making him want to forget his anger. Virgil couldn’t afford to let that heat slip away completely, he needed it to keep himself going but Deceit was turning everything around, was using that gaze against him and he wondered if maybe this was yet another time when he had been completely wrong. On every single level it was possible to be wrong. 

Deceit smiled, something triumphant in the expression, as though he had already won. 

“I made him better didn’t I? Just like you always wanted, the sort of Creativity he should have been if it wasn’t for that delightful original personality of his. All it took was a little nudge and the chance to start fresh without any of the other irritating elements getting in the way.”

He was... he was talking about Patton. Logan. Roman himself. Virgil knew that there were parts of the light sides that annoyed him at times, things he wished were different. Patton and Roman in particular were all so... bright, all the time. It hurt his eyes and his mind sometimes to have to deal with their endless positivism as if nothing terrible existed in the world. Beyond creepy crawly death dealers who weren’t even that bad. Just as Logan had once said, they could be unbearable when they were at their most... them. But that was who they were. If they could put up with the endless storm cloud that was Virgil even on his worst days then it was only fair that Virgil handle their enthusiasm and sunshine. It was what made Thomas... Thomas. Virgil wouldn’t change that. 

Virgil could accept the idea that he needed improvement. He could accept the idea that he was wrong since he was so often very wrong whenever he tried to protect Thomas from the terrors of the world both real and imaginary. 

But he couldn’t accept that any of the others were wrong to the extent that they should lose everything and be remade. They were as close to perfect as it was possible to be, with only the mildest of flaws. If anything, it just showed how wrong Virgil really was for not being able to handle them all the time. They were good and pure and Deceit was acting as though there was something wrong with them. 

Knowledge was power.

Virgil stumbled backwards, ripping himself out of the hold, the thought like a shot of espresso rushing through his blood stream, and Roman had been perfect just the way he was. Those memories were an important part of him, not something that could be discarded on a whim as though they didn’t matter, and in turn, as though who Roman was didn’t matter. 

“We’re talking about Roman, not some... some... some Furby you can just take the batteries out to try and stop the possessed toy! He isn’t something you turn off and on again to ‘fix’,” Virgil ranted, lifting his hands to make air quotes over the word fix as he spoke, and how could Deceit be that detached from what he had done? 

Deceit gave a snort, looking completely unimpressed by anything Virgil was saying. It almost felt as though they were talking at cross purposes, each discussing a different topic than the other and neither seemed willing to make any effort to even get closer to the actual issue at hand. Virgil knew he was the one talking about the right thing, the most important thing and yet Deceit still acted as though he was the one in the right. His mistake had been attacking the others though and their goodness was a truth that Virgil could never doubt. 

“Oh please, since when have you ever cared about Roman? I seem to recall you spending hours ranting about Creativity and how annoying he was. You should be thanking me, he isn’t an over the top dramatic prince anymore! No more insulting you either, I certainly didn’t expect you to think it was as though all your Christmas’ had come at once.” 

Now that Deceit said that, Virgil realised that he had never once thought of the memory loss that way. He had been pleased that Roman didn’t hate him anymore, pleased that he didn’t remember all the mean things Virgil had done to him. He had been scared as well, so terrified that history would repeat itself and he would lose his friend all over again. That agony had been the strongest emotion he had felt. 

But he had never once been that happy, he had never wanted it to become something permanent. He had known that sooner or later Roman would recover his memories. At least, he had assumed he would, had travelled to the Imagination in order to help him because Virgil hadn’t been able to picture a world in which his dramatic friend was not himself. Even if that meant they weren’t as close as Virgil would have liked them to be. It had been wonderful to be trusted by Roman once more, to have the other side consider them real close friends. 

It seemed as though that friendship they had made was destined to be as fragile and as fleeting as the first snowdrops of the spring, trying to reach for the sun too early. 

Because Roman was surely going to hate him when he found out this was all supposed to be a present for Virgil, that he had been attacked and his mind violated because Deceit had apparently thought it would be something that the anxious side would want. If that was the truth of course, and things were never that simple when it came to Deceit. Never that clear cut, one reason, one answer that made sense. 

Still, Roman was going to hate him and Virgil couldn’t blame him in the slightest. If he had done even the smallest thing to imply that he might wish this to be reality, then it was his fault too. Roman was going to hate him once he remembered who he was and learnt the truth.

That was going to suck, so badly. 

It would hurt, would rip him apart and Virgil didn’t know if he was strong enough to survive it. The thought of being without their friendship again - because surely Patton and Logan would turn their backs on him too when Roman told them the truth - made Virgil want to curl up into a tight little ball and sob his heart out. He didn’t want to lose what he had, he didn’t want to be alone again... but Virgil still needed to help, needed to somehow undo his own mistake and Deceit’s folly. Maybe the Anxiety that Deceit had known would have been delighted but he had grown and changed a lot since then - mostly for the better but Virgil was enough of a realist to know that he still made so many mistakes, he still slipped and went backwards, became worse. 

He was trying and on the good days - even on the neutral days - Virgil could see how far he had come, he was able to look behind him and see the long path he had already travelled on, feel pride in his accomplishments. The bad days only made him more aware of how far he really had to go still before he could consider himself even close to them. 

As children, Anxiety had always tried to stay near to the others whenever he could, claiming that it was just to protect Thomas but that had been a lie. He had been like the outcast kid peering into the charmed circle he knew he would never be apart of and longing for the impossible all the same. Anxiety had never really been able to imagine what it would be like to actually be accepted, to not have to fight to be heard every second of the day. He had never really understood what it would be like to be part of that family. 

That Anxiety had been lucky in a way. He had been able to survive through ignorance because even in his wildest dreams, he had never come close to imagining the warmth and love that flowed from the other three on a daily basis. 

That Anxiety had never been given the chance to get to know Roman. He had never become his friend - but then that version of Anxiety that Deceit knew that Deceit was still protecting had changed beyond all measure. He had grown into the Virgil he was now and while Virgil couldn’t ignore who he had once been, he also couldn’t pretend that he wanted to go back to how it had been before. He wouldn’t sacrifice Roman for his own comfort. He would never. 

Now Virgil was going to choose to stumble back into the snow without any protective layers. Better to freeze of his own choice. Better to die a hero. Better to grow cold for the right reasons. Later, Virgil would have to cling to those thoughts, to reminding himself over and over that he chose to do this. That he wanted this no matter the consequences. Just as soon as he somehow managed to fix it and damn himself all at the same time. 

He just needed to somehow convince Deceit to reverse whatever it was that he had actually done. Deceit who had never admitted he was in the wrong in all the time Virgil had known him. Deceit who rarely backed down from a challenge. Deceit who was still acting as if this was a good thing and Virgil was the weird one for being angry. 

Great. Just perfect.

[izaswritings]

Could you write a fic where Mio is down and Hyakkimaru notices (from the flicker of her soul) and so he holds her? And it's a bunch of cuddles and she has trouble sleeping and Hyakkimaru just goes to cuddle her. And then she notices he's the first guy to hold her non sexually and it's cute. ❤️ EPISODE 5 GAVE ME THE FEELS LIKE HYAKKI DID AFTER HE KILLED BANDAI. 😭😭😭 BBYS MUST BE PROTECTED AT COSTS

!!!! i don’t usually take requests because jhsdgjhfgh free time who but this was TOO CUTE!! thank u so much for the prompt!!! 💖 Mio deserves the world!!!

Ahhh, sorry in advance, if the story doesn’t really match up!! I know the prompt was for cuddles, but… I couldn’t really see Mio trusting Hyakkimaru that much, not yet, if that makes sense? I also couldn’t see Hyakkimaru being so tactile—  he also has some touch-issues, I think, though I’d say he’s more touch-starved than traumatized by it. So… I know this isn’t exactly according to the prompt, but I hope this fic delivers regardless!

AO3 Link is here!!

-

Hyakkimaru opens his eyes with the sense that something is wrong.

It takes him a moment to reorient—sleep is strange now, with sound added to the mix; there’s a definite shift between waking and dreaming that before existed only in Hyakkimaru’s head. It’s as if his consciousness simply disconnects—and with it, even hearing is distant, right up until Hyakkimaru opens his eyes and finds the world thrust back into vivid sound without warning.

He winces at the now-customary headache from the noise and turns the side of his head against the pillow, trying to puzzle out what’s woken him. It’s day, he thinks—the air is warm and dry against his skin—but the house is devoid the usual scuffling sounds Dororo and the other children make when they play. Have they gone out?

Hyakkimaru tilts back his head, trying to listen; even with the haze of fever, he’s getting better at picking through noises. No, he doesn’t think Dororo or the other small souls are here—can’t hear a thing that might suggest their presence.

Of course, that doesn’t mean the house is quiet, either: the creak of the trees, the whistling wind… these are becoming fast constants. Hyakkimaru sighs through his teeth and turns to his side. It was probably the trees, then. They are certainly loud enough to wake him most times—

He is just about to roll over and slip back into sleep when he hears it.

Hyakkimaru freezes, mind gone abruptly sharp. The sound comes again, muffled but clear to his sensitive ears. A soft cry, broken and thin, catching on the edges, rubbed raw by emotion. It’s… what is that? What is this sound? There’s something horribly familiar about it, something he cannot place.

Again, he hears it— and this time, Hyakkimaru climbs slowly to his feet. Never mind the trees. This must be what woke him: this quiet, shattered sound, muffled and bitter.

He’s heard this before, Hyakkimaru realizes with a sudden chill. Louder, then, more like a wail—but he recognizes this cry. He discovered it the night his hearing returned. The first experience with sound Hyakkimaru has ever had, after the thunder and the rain. A quiet breaking wail that rose above even the storm.

He’s moving before he can convince himself otherwise, nearly tripping in his haste. He follows the sound best he can, mismatched feet knocking on the floorboards. The clatter of his footsteps makes him wince, but they must be quiet enough, because the breaking sound doesn’t shutter or shut off the way it sometimes does when souls notice Hyakkimaru is there. He’s getting closer—he can tell, because the noise is only growing louder.

There— he’s close, he’s here. Close enough that volume is starting to grate on his hearing. The sound is coming from—  

Hyakkimaru reaches out, and his prosthetic bumps into a wall of green. Behind here. This is where that awful sound is coming from.

He slides his hands along the wood, looking for the catch. He knows it’s there, even if he can’t see it; Jukai’s home had the same trick, walls that could be slid open when you needed them too. He can’t find it, though, and that sound is still going, and—

His panic makes him sloppy. Hyakkimaru’s usual pinpoint control slips in his restlessness, and he realizes this too late to catch himself. The spring in his prosthetic wrist pulls and catches, and his hand slams awkwardly against the wooden wall.

The noise stops.

Oh, damn it, Hyakkimaru thinks, and then the wall slides open with a bang.

He blinks rapidly, even though it makes no difference to his sight. There is a soul now, instead of the green wall—pale white and flickering badly. A human soul. Mio.

Mio was making that wailing noise? The thought bothers him, for reasons he can’t figure. Worse still, Mio isn’t moving—just staring at him, oddly quiet, their shoulders curled in like they’re trying to hide.

Hyakkimaru hesitates. There’s something wrong, he thinks. Something in the way Mio’s soul shakes. Something… drawn, tired. And, and that sound…

Hyakkimaru feels an uncomfortable pang near his heart and shuffles on his feet, uncertain. He cannot help but think of his own restless sleep, looking at Mio now. That endless exhaustion and bitter understanding that no matter how tired he felt, Hyakkimaru couldn’t stop, just couldn’t. What does it matter, if sound won’t let Hyakkimaru sleep, if he’s too tired to fight? The demons won’t let him rest. The monsters will always come. Not fighting has never been an option, and while usually Hyakkimaru doesn’t mind…

Sometimes— sometimes, most times, Hyakkimaru just wishes he could stop.

And to see—to see that, to feel that, when looking at Mio… to have this horrible dawning sense that Mio might feel the same way… Hyakkimaru isn’t sure what to think about that. It just—hurts. It hurts. It hurts because it’s awful, Mio doesn’t deserve that, and Hyakkimaru doesn’t know what to do now that he’s found that out.

But Mio is still standing there, hunched in on themself, shoulders stiff like they’re trying to be brave— their soul, wavering like it’s about to break— and all Hyakkimaru knows is that whatever he does, he can’t just stand here and do nothing.

He hesitates, again. Hyakkimaru’s only done this once before, with Jukai, who knew to look for the writing. But there’s no dirt here, and — and Mio still isn’t moving, or speaking, or anything. The only thing he can hear from them is their breathing.

Nothing else for it— Hyakkimaru will simply have to hope they understand.

Decision made, Hyakkimaru lifts a hand and reaches out hesitantly for Mio’s face. Mio doesn’t move away, but when his fingers touch their cheek they flinch. Hyakkimaru flinches too. There’s an awful knot of something in his gut, something terrible thing coiling around his heart. It makes the back of his eyes itch.

Mio flinches, but they don’t move away, and that— that’s enough. Hyakkimaru takes a quiet breath, drawing on all his lessons with Jukai, and slowly shapes the question with his hand, taking care as he traces the word against Mio’s cheek.

Okay?

They don’t seem to understand—they’re so still—so Hyakkimaru tries again, tracing the word over and over, until he’s surprised and a little startled to find his fingers are shaking, too. There’s an awful heat in his cheeks, a lump in his throat. He abruptly feels like hiding, oddly small under Mio’s unflinching regard.

But then Mio makes a sound, a stifled gasp, and they straighten very suddenly. Their voice is quiet, hushed; too small for Hyakkimaru to parse out the words, the language unfamiliar to him.

He tries to traces the word again, hesitant, but Mio lifts a hand and curls their fingers around his before he can finish. Hyakkimaru freezes mid-motion, blinking at them. Mio’s soul flickers.

Mio speaks again, but there’s something different about them now— their voice steadier and stronger, still soft but now with a warmth in their words. They’re no longer so still. Their shoulders are shaking, light and thin, and the fingers they’ve curled around his are trembling.

Hyakkimaru tries to trace that question one more time, because he doesn’t know what else to ask, and Mio makes a noise deep in their throat, a weepy sort of laugh. They take his hand and tug lightly on the prosthetic; Hyakkimaru steps forward on instinct. Mio steps in to meet him. Their head tucks underneath his chin, against his shoulder; their arms press against his back.

Realization sinks in. Mio— Mio is hugging him.

Hyakkimaru holds himself still, a little dazed, unsure of how to react. Mio is warm, their hair soft against his cheek. For how slight their soul looks, the hug is secure, their arms betraying a secret strength. They’re so warm.

Mio is still shaking, but their tremors are calming now, easing away. They squeeze his middle and he can feel them sigh against his collar.

Mio is talking, Hyakkimaru realizes. Soft and whispery, muffled against his shoulder. The words are so faint he can hardly hear them at all. They press their head against his shoulder and take a deep breath, as if drawing strength from it, then finally step back from the hug.

To Hyakkimaru’s eyes, Mio’s soul shines.

Mio’s hand rises, touches his face. Hyakkimaru holds himself still. Their fingers are cold against his skin. Mio makes that whisper-laugh again and clumsily traces something back—the same symbol, affirmative, assurance.

I am okay.

Mio doesn’t wait for a response— as soon as Hyakkimaru blinks, recognizing the symbol for what it is, Mio’s soul flares with brightness and their fingers pat his cheek, light and fond. Before Hyakkimaru can respond, Mio takes his hand again and moves past him, leading him back into the heart of the house.

They’re talking again—soft, airy, as if nothing has happened. Cheerful and conversational. But they are still holding Hyakkimaru’s hand, and his cheek tingles from where they’d touched him. His mind is stuck on the embrace, on their answer, on the quiet whisper Mio had muffled into his shoulder.

Mio’s soul is still shaking, faintly. But that awful weeping sound is gone, and their soul is glowing brighter and stronger than before.

Hyakkimaru twitches his prosthetic fingers in his best attempt to hold their hand back. He’s smiling. He can feel it, on his face—a quiet curl at his lips, tugging at muscles long disused. And while Hyakkimaru has no real way to tell, he thinks—he thinks, maybe—  

He thinks perhaps Mio is smiling too.

[mittenslikesthings]

Just a pic I like

(the image from this post is from the wonderful Suechan whose work you can find here... http://www.sue-chan.com/hypnoindex.html)

Emily was struck by a flash of erotic inspiration while looking at discount dragon horns on sale in the Halloween section of the local Dollorama. 

She chucked a bit at her constant need for kink but realized her idea could work. She grabbed the pretty little headband and plastic sword as well. Her partners Ollie and Rebecca would have no idea what hit them.

She invited them to her single dorm for a night of Smash Bros and promised both, “if you are good some additional fun.” 

As part of her plan Emily made no attempt to prepare. Outside of a quick shower, because we live in a society, she didn’t bother with good clothes, makeup or anything. She wanted to seem as plain as possible.

They arrived together about an hour later.

Rebecca per usual was dressed to the nines for her Mistress, with stunning makeup that made Emily pause for a moment, her jaw open, “Oh my God Rebecca I love what you did with your eyes tonight!”

“Thanks!” Came Rebecca’s bubbly reply, “I love your... your hair looks so ... nice.” Emily felt a little insulted before she remembered that being blah looking was part of her plan. But she still felt a little insulted.

“How is it going?” Came Ollie’s nonchalant greeting. He was wearing a torn Metallica t-shirt and he seemed washed but that was about it. It was the way she liked him and he knew it.

She grabbed his bicep and squeezed a little, ‘my god’ she thought ‘my boy has been working out’

“Your beard is starting to come in,” she said referring to the slight stubble forming on his chin and down the side of his face, “it looks nice”

“Thanks Emily!” and he let himself in.

“Yah sure just come on in and be the man of the house then why don’t you Ollie.” Emily said with a bit of playful irritation, “Shall I get you a drink as well Master?”

Ollie turned puzzled, “Oh, right, sorry” and he removed his shoes and coat and waited by the door for Rebecca and Emily to enter the living room. “Ummm Emily whatever are you planning?” Ollie said when they saw the halloween accessories in a bundle.

“Oh my god can I be a damsel in distress from a scary Dragon!?” Rebecca asked, seeing the dragon horns and eagerly grabbing the headband. She had grown to love their roleplaying, especially when the clothes came off.

“We’ll see, for now,” she grinned a little and used the velvety hypnotic voice both of them had gotten quite fond of, “why don’t you both come sit beside me.”

Ollie smiled “Uh oh Rebecca, I think Emily is using her Bene Gesserit Voice on us again, we should run” but he walked up and carefully sat at Emily’s right.

“Oh no, not the thing from that shitty movie” Rebecca said taking a seat.

Emily slapped her slightly “Now now pet, there will be no disparaging of the David Lynch classic reimagining of Frank Herbet’s ‘Dune’ if you want my attention is that understood?”

“Alright” she giggled

Ollie laughed slightly, “I guess we are just blowing right past the Smash Emil.. or ... Mistress?”

Emily took a deep breath in as her two partners adjusted themselves to get more comfortable. “Why don’t you two both just sink for me.”

With that command, instilled over dozens of trances, Ollie and Rebecca’s eyes closed, their whole body fell asleep.

“Its so nice how you two are here with me now” Emily cooed, “Just resting so completely, knowing you have the time to take the time for each breath, in and out just so, naturally, falling deeper, your unconscious, knows how deeply I will let you fall, sensing my arms around you, sinking into this, feeling how good it is to submit to my words...”

(ollie should get the same regression and probing as rebecca)

Emily dropped them down for several minutes before turning to Ollie, “Ollie in a moment even as Rebecca fades down deeper into trance with each word I speak, you will find when I when I say ‘Knights at their feet’ you will open you eyes while remaining deeply in trance, arise comfortably and face me awaiting my command, nod your head that you understand.”

Ollie’s head nodded sleepily, his face flushed red in trance.

“Good my pet, you will also find how with each word I say you will feel more and more as though you have stepped into a dream, you might not even remember what happens as dreams are often lost to memory as you are lost in my voice. Its so strange isn’t it? How that can happen as your mind wanders through a dream and wonders how it is that it experiences so much but remembers so little? Like how you might notice now that just tracking from sentence to sentence with all those little words and complex thoughts are just so hard to follow? I find it is a mystery how those hard to follow words can just do their work inside your mind without you even realizing it as you know you will simply follow without thinking, obeying without remembering.” (move this up to apply to both, include references to childhood daydreaming)

Ollie’s eyelids were open slightly and she saw his eyes moving back and fourth rapidly, the telltale sign he had surrendered and entered a dream. She thought she should repeat herself for emphasis,

“Nod your head that you know, deep inside, that when I say ‘knights at their feet’ you will comfortably stand before me in this dream you are having.”

He nodded so she ordered, “Knights at their feet”

Ollie’s eyes opened, a simple blank stare, and his body seemed arise as if pulled foreward by some invisble force. He turned and looked at her.

Emily’s voice moved from a gentle and caring one to being much more stern and cold.

“You see the sword and shield over there? Pick them up and then stand before me at attention again.

He retrieved the toys and returned.

“Good, now you are big and strong right my Knight?”

Ollie nodded proudly.

“In a moment I will have you remain in place and show me how powerfully you can wave that sword, while this is happening Rebecca you will find the most interesting thing, each sound of exertion from Ollie will just make you more grateful I am allowing you to sleep so gently and you will sink deeper. Nod that you understand Rebecca. Good. Ollie in another moment I will say ‘Fight’ you will show me how strong and violent you can be to those who threaten me. You will sell it as best you can, you will make me believe it. When I say ‘Peace’ you will stop, your eyes will close on their own, you will drop your sword and shield as you drop down and you sink even deeper even as you remain standing. Now Ollie prove to me how strong you are. Fight!”

Ollie proceeded to stab at the air violently, shouting and yelling and promising to protect Emily from Orcs or anyone else who threatens her. His body flexing and the intensity in his eyes made Emily bite her lip hard.

“Peace” Emily commanded and just like that Ollie let his sword and shield fall, his eyes closing and he just stood there, head lowered and waiting.

“Good pet, Ollie you will sink even deeper with each breath, standing comfortably. Rebecca my beautiful pet you put so much work into looking pretty for me today didn’t you?”

“Yessss” came the tender reply.

“Good, and my pet deserves to know she is a Princess. Such a fascinating word, ‘Princess’, a word we remember from when we were little, as kids looking up at the television, all those cartoons of princesses being beautiful and wise and wanting to be like them when we grew up. Do you remember what it was like wanting so bad to be a beautiful princess Rebecca?”

“mmmmhmmm”

“Tell me what you liked about it and as you do you will sink blissfully deeper”

“Sparkly.”

“You like sparkles, is that why you have just a bit of glitter around your eyes this evening?”

“mmmhmmmm”

“Use your words pet.”

“Yes”

“Good, and did you like anything else about being a princess?”

“Attention”

“Its a special thing being under for me, you are slipping into a dream like Cinderalla slipped on her beautiful shoes. And as you wonder how Cinderella must have felt when her mundane life became so magical just by putting on something that a princess would where you can sink even deeper for me, as Ollie is sinking deeper, with each word I say, wondering whether you will ever be allowed to experience such a transformation, into a dream, a pleseant and beutiful dream. I know sometimes we can be in a dream and worry we may leave the dream but you know that here I am the one who is doing the dreaming and for as long as I dream you can share this dream. And I will be dreaming a good long while, dreaming so many interesting and captivating dreams that you can share as you leacefully let go into this dream more and more, just falling deeper”

Emily paused for a moment, feeling Rebecca’s sleepy body breathing in and out against her, looking up and seeing Ollie standing there and sinking for her as well. She felt so lucky to be part of such a triangle, and she knew that they loved it to. ‘might I be about to push them a bit to far? what happens in a dream can stay with us and become part of us’ She looked back at them and all the conversations they had each had about their needs and wants. She knew how desperately submissive they both were, how much they wanted to give her. She decided it would be worth the risk and continued with her plan.

She grabbed the headband from beside Rebbeca’s open palm. “Rebecca in a moment I will take the beautiful headband and place it upon your head. When I do you will feel that your moment to become Cinderella has come.

[sanerontheinside]

feels

uuuuuum I can’t tell if I drifted thru povs however I felt like it, or if it counts as third-person omniscience, but I will say that having an actual panning camera image of the scene as you write it can be very annoying that way. 

also this is one of the only scenes I have written in full, and it’s been written for some months now, so I’m dropping it here in a moment of extremely questionable decision-making and doing my best not to question the fact that I just posted a major resolution point. 

then again, if this au ever gets written? by the time this scene comes up again it will either have changed significantly, or y’all won’t remember this ever happened, or both. so that’s not so bad. 

@deadcatwithaflamethrower​, @aidava​, hi I blame you for the frankenau

—note: Obi-Wan’s first mission as a Knight leaves him stranded on a planet being invaded and reclaimed by its neighbour world. eventually he does a successful blockade run, only to end up crashlanding on Tatooine. that is where Qui-Gon and Anakin find him. to skip over a lot more detail, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are eventually partnered again, and Anakin becomes their shared Padawan. Also Offworld subsidiaries reappear, which throws everyone for a loop. 

He awoke with his throat raw from a scream he couldn’t remember the reason for, which was frustrating. When the Force chose to make itself known, it wasn’t usually so skittish, but this time he had to go digging for the nightmare that had prompted this rude awakening.

“Obi-Wan?”

Shit. “Sorry, Qui-Gon. Didn’t mean to wake you.” He turned, and found himself staring across the encampment at a blearily blinking Jedi Master. Qui-Gon had propped himself up on one elbow on his pallet, his hair spilling over his shoulders in a sleep-tousled mess, deep blue eyes unfocused in the firelight. It was a surprisingly endearing sight, and Obi-Wan mustered an apologetic half-smile for waking him to cover the feeling of warmth he felt bloom in his chest.

“Bad dreams?” Qui-Gon asked, voice deep and sleep-roughened.

Obi-Wan bit his lip, gaze turning inward to finally track down the thread he’d nearly lost just now. “Bandomeer,” he said at last. “I hadn’t thought about that in a long time.”

“Offworld.” When he looked up again, Qui-Gon looked grieved. “Haven’t had to think about that in a long time.” He shifted, then gave Obi-Wan a shy look and raised the corner of his blanket in invitation.

Obi-Wan didn’t let himself think—simply got up, collecting his own blanket and draping it over his Master before settling in under his arm. The easy pressure of Qui-Gon’s breath at his back, the protective limb across his chest pulling him in and holding tight for a moment before relaxing—this comfort, this sense of safety was not one he’d had the chance to feel in long years.

In the Temple, the nightmares eased in Qui-Gon’s quarters, which still felt more like home than his assigned rooms. He ended up on that couch more often than not, and when he did cry out in his sleep—after missions gone horribly or with visions creeping into his dreams—Qui-Gon was there, running his hand through Obi-Wan’s hair and whispering comforts.

Here, though, the entire compound was saturated with a feeling of unease, and it leached into the surrounding woods. They’d wandered off as far as they’d dared, set up a campsite, but apparently not far enough. Obi-Wan’s dream had so unsettled him that his heart still beat rapidly in his chest. After a few moments, as the adrenaline drained away, he felt cold and a fine tremor ran through his body.

Behind him, Qui-Gon sighed deeply. “I think we’ll be awake for some time yet, Obi-Wan. Come on, up—let me stir the fire.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help a faint, shiver-broken chuckle as he shifted to sit alongside his Master, pulling one of the blankets around his shoulders. “Staying awake with the nightmare-plagued Padawan again. Between Anakin and myself, it’s a wonder you’ve gotten any sleep in the last few years.”

“Sleep is something of a privilege rarely afforded to Masters with Padawans,” Qui-Gon informed him, the fond smile he threw over his shoulder warming Obi-Wan better than the struggling campfire.

Qui-Gon finally moved back to their nest of blankets, shifting until he sat shoulder to shoulder with the Knight. “I never meant to take on another Padawan,” he mused softly.

The remark that caught Obi-Wan entirely by surprise. “Qui-Gon?”

His former Master turned half-amused, half-regretful blue eyes on him and studied him calmly. “Certainly not Anakin.”

Obi-Wan tried to shake off the confusion he felt. “But—a nine-year-old boy, never trained to control his emotions, and so strong in the Force—he could put out a sun if he thought about it hard enough. We couldn't just ignore him.”

“Yes.” Qui-Gon looked back at the fire in the centre of their camp, flickering and popping loudly in the gaps between speech. He was seized with a sudden melancholy. “The Council displayed an unusual lack of common sense.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Not so unusual, these days.”

Qui-Gon’s smile was a fleeting thing. “It was a desperate bluff, claiming Anakin as my Padawan.”

He felt Obi-Wan go very still against him, so he pressed on quickly before his agitation could choke him. And his profound shame, too, for the desperation that had coloured his bid to secure Anakin’s future.

“I hoped either Mace or Yoda, or maybe Plo, might dismiss my claim, and take on Anakin themselves.” He sighed and disturbed the blankets in a small ruffle, reaching up to drag his hands over his face. “Worked like a charm,” he added, with humourless laugh. Qui-Gon was not bitter, not in the least.

His former Padawan was staring at him, and Qui-Gon wasn't sure he wanted to know what the expression on his face held.

“I thought you—" Obi-Wan broke off with a slight cough. “You were bluffing?”

Qui-Gon glanced up at last, startled by the disbelief in the exclamation—and more, by some unnamed emotion caught behind tight shields that threatened to wrench itself out of Obi-Wan’s grasp. It almost felt like an old injury pulling at his attention again.

Obi-Wan was grappling with the elder Master’s admission and finding it rather difficult to contend with. “That was not the time, Qui-Gon!” he sputtered at last.

“There was no time, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said softly. “The Council refused to accept Anakin outright, which was completely ridiculous—as though an untrained Force Sensitive of his potential could be any less dangerous than a Sith. I needed them to agree, at least to not turn him away.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to warn you. I didn’t think—couldn't imagine—it would come to that. And I would have explained, afterward, but then—"

Then Naboo. That silent, strained trip through hyperspace, the careful way in which Master and Padawan had avoided each other. Qui-Gon’s features twisted with regret.

“Anakin was a joy to teach, and when you vanished he was the only one left to ground me in reality. It wasn't an easy time for us,” he added with a wry, strained attempt at a smile. “Thank all the little gods we found you, you helped us through so much.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, turned back to stare at the flames again. “Can't say I gave you a chance to say anything.”

Those beautiful blue-green eyes turned inward thoughtfully, and Obi-Wan absently bit at his lip. Then, apropos of nothing he said, “I wanted to ask you if we could remain partnered after my Knighting.”

Qui-Gon shifted in surprise. “Why didn't you?” He watched as the younger man looked away and his shoulders twitched in an aborted shrug, clearly fighting with himself. “Please, Obi-Wan, don't be afraid to tell me.” The flicker of a pained glance in his direction was enough to cause a physical twinge in him, and the silence weighed heavily on Qui-Gon’s mind.

“I thought you didn't want me,” Obi-Wan said at last, quietly. A barely audible hitch in breath escaped Qui-Gon’s control. “Though if truth be told, I was very grateful you weren’t with me on that mission. Nak was—hm. ‘Frustrating’ doesn’t begin to cover that level of Sith hells.”

Qui-Gon scoffed. “My Obi-Wan, better with you to all Sith hells than ever without you. I don't—" he hesitated a moment. “You thought I wouldn't want you?”

The younger Knight curled into himself, feeling small under the weight of that intent gaze. “I didn't realise you were bluffing. You told them I was ready for my Trials, but I didn't feel ready.”

At Qui-Gon's continued silence, Obi-Wan finally dragged his eyes up to meet his former Master's gaze, heart almost shuddering to a stop at the expression he saw there.

“You were long ready, Obi-Wan,” he said solemnly. “I, on the other hand, had done you a great disservice. I trusted you with every mission, and you’d long since been carrying the responsibilities of a Knight, but I thought—I thought I could protect you. I thought I would not lose you if I kept you close.” His attempt at a self-deprecating chuckle sounded pitifully broken even to him. “I didn't realise you'd think of my recommendation for you Trials as a dismissal. But then, how could you not? It was abrupt, presented completely without finesse.”

Qui-Gon broke off and closed his eyes, dragged in a shuddering breath and held it for a count of seven. “We didn't have the finest of beginnings. Old fool that I am, I thought the last few years with our rhythm, our partnership, our bond and the strength that it had—”

“You shut me out, I didn't know what to think.” Obi-Wan shrugged, without a tinge of bitterness.

“Ah.” Obi-Wan glanced up, saw Qui-Gon flinch. “That was—forgive me—"

Obi-Wan watched his former Master stutter to a halt with every false start. Here was a man usually so eloquent, always one to use words to their greatest effect, now incapable of saying something that must have weighed heavily on his mind for a long time.

He reached out and rested a hand over the other man’s, tracing delicate circles over smooth, soft skin. “Qui-Gon?”

“Obi-Wan.” Deep blue eyes opened, gaze intense, and locked with Obi-Wan’s. “There is not a single thing you could ever do that would have made me deny you as my apprentice then, nor now as my Knight-partner and friend.”

“Then why did you block the training bond?”

Qui-Gon winced, but he didn’t look away. “Your nightmares, Obi-Wan.”

“The visions?” Obi-Wan pulled back, surprised. “I—they bled through?”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “Only once, when you were still too afraid of losing your place at my side to tell me what they were. I sat with you that night.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I remember.”

“I was always aware of them, even when I did not see them. I remembered them, and I could always tell when they started again. As they did before Naboo.”

The look of frank astonishment on Obi-Wan’s features melted into an aggrieved smile. “You always tell me to live in the moment, and yet that time you chose to listen to visions? What exactly were you thinking of when you blocked me out? What is it that you finally listened to?”

It was some time before Qui-Gon could answer that. His body betrayed him even as his mind tried, needed to get the words out. His throat constricted, refused to give way for any more than a tight pained sound. He let his head fall back, face upturned to the starry sky but eyes unseeing. The stars blurred, distant pinpoints washing out into silvery spots.

“From the moment I faced the Zabrak on Tatooine, I knew what your visions were trying to tell you.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath. Obi-Wan froze, muscles iron-tense all along Qui-Gon’s side, but his voice, when he spoke, was low and wrought of perfect calm. “The figure in black and red.”

“I could barely hold my own against him then, I knew I couldn’t hold him alone on Naboo. Maybe just long enough to weaken him, long enough to let you finish the fight and guarantee your survival.”

Silence. The Force, somewhere, roiled with emotions, but those emotions were all Qui-Gon’s. Obi-Wan hid himself away so well under his shields, Qui-Gon couldn’t sense even a whisper of what he must have felt. He’d imagined anger, which he well deserved. He’d imagined grief, even. But of all the things he might have expected, he’d never even imagined this death-still, accepting calm. A sudden intense pain flared in his chest, a depth of fear and loss he could not even begin to fathom, and he nearly curled into it.

And as if that were the sign for him to let go, Obi-Wan all but exploded. “Dammit, Qui-Gon! What did you always tell me? ‘Live in the Moment, Padawan, the future is always in motion, focus on the here and now’. And then you go and run ahead to face that thing alone. I thought I wasn’t good enough to fight at your side, that I’d failed you, lost your trust. You knew it would kill you, and you thought that would be better than—"

“Better than watching you die, Obi-Wan.”

The quiet words brought him up short, it seemed. Again, Qui-Gon wasn’t sure what to think, but at least the air between them wasn’t frozen still in total impassivity.

He drew a shaky sigh and turned his head away. “Three years later, you still hadn’t returned from a mission that had gone badly sideways, and I was forced to face my greatest fear anyway.”

For a long moment there was nothing but quiet again. He thought Obi-Wan might have dozed off, letting the confession hover over them like the heavy weight it had been all these years. What was a few more hours, anyway, before Obi-Wan was driven from the warmth of their nest of blankets by the morning light—before they never spoke of this again?

Then Qui-Gon hissed, startled, as a cold nose found its way into the join of neck and shoulder, and icy hands burrowed into his robes. “Obi-Wan?” he rasped, bewildered.

Hot tears on his skin, against his cheek, silent shudders wracking the body that pressed close to him. Qui-Gon let out a quiet keening noise at the feeling that wound itself around his chest and squeezed, and pulled Obi-Wan closer, wrapping his arms tightly around the quivering body, one hand sliding up into the copper hair and tightening on the nape of his neck.

It might have been an hour later, drifting on the edge of sleep, swollen, aching eyes soothed by the night cold, that he just barely heard Obi-Wan’s vehement whisper, “Don’t ever do that again, Qui. Promise me.”

Qui? he thought, the smallest smile twitching at his lips. “I promise,” he whispered, solemn.