#i just hope i did not stumble upon the correct answer by pure chance.

[dambiex]

its called ninteno 64 because it could display 64 different colors

it was called ninteno 64 because there were only 64 of them

[discoscoob]

Love’s Labours Won | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

The TARDIS arrives in The Dark Ages where the Doctor tries to solve a mystery involving witchcraft. During your stay your relationship with Loki begins to develop due to a mix of a Shakespeare, jealousy and one bed.

Part Three | Part Five | Chapter Index

Words: 7.7k

Warnings: unwanted advances, mild homophobia, death: very minor characters, jealous Loki, swearing, angst, fluff and then more angst

Read on AO3

You were sat crossed legged in front of your floor length mirror, applying eyeliner when the whole room began jerking, which caused your hand to slip and left a long black line smudged over or eyelid. 

 You huffed in annoyance, as you pulled out a makeup wipe and began cleaning up the mistake, you decided that there was no point in attempting to try again as the whole TARDIS continued to quiver. 

 You climbed to your feet, still wiping your eye, as you stormed out of your bedroom with half your sight blocked by your makeup wipe. You failed to see Loki walking down the corridor at the exact same time and with the help of the turbulence, Loki lost his balance and stumbled into you, sending you both crashing into the wall.

 “Good morning.” You greeted Loki, almost sounding out of breath from the shock of your back impacting with the wall. His face was mere inches from yours, as you were trapped against the wall between both his arms, unlike the last time you found yourself in this position with the God, it was purely accidental this time.

 From the proximity you realised that today a light citrusy and floral scent surrounded him and from what you could see, he was wearing a solid black suit with a matching shirt and tie. The outfit made him appear even more powerful and intimidating than he usually did and despite the fact you were meant to be trying to push away any desires you had towards the God, your mind was encouraging you to just lean forward those last few inches and close the gaps between your lips.

 Before you could follow your own minds advice, Loki awkwardly cleared his throat as he took a step back away from you, while straightening out his suit jacket.

 “Good morning.” He repeated.

 You both continued your way towards the control room, occasionally bracing yourself against the walls whenever you felt as though you were about to lose balance. 

 “Did you have to pass a test to fly this thing?” You asked the Doctor, who was literally sprawled across the console, with his foot pushing a leaver, while his arm stretched out to the opposite side to turn a dial.

 Donna was clinging onto the rail for dear life, while you and Loki attempted to reach her side without falling flat on your backsides.

 “Yes, and I failed.” The Doctor distractedly answered. 

 “I can tell.” You replied, as the TARDIS jerked to an abrupt stop, you instinctively grabbed onto Loki’s arm to steady yourself and he put his own hand under your elbow to ensure you were stable.

 Behind Loki’s shoulder you saw Donna watching you and the God closely, you could tell that she still didn’t trust Loki. Feeling conscious of her stare you mumbled a quick thanks towards Loki before you extended the distance between the two of you, while the Doctor ran to the doors of the TARDIS.

 “Beyond this door lies a brave new world.” He announced with his back against the TARDIS doors, enthusiastic as ever.

 “I’m up for anything, as long as there aren’t any volcano’s and none of us get possessed.” Donna seemed happily pleased.

 “Oh Donna, the chances of that are low but never zero.” The Doctor cheekily smiled, before he turned on his heel causing the tail of his long brown trench coat to fan out behind him as he ran out the door. “Come on!” 

 When you stepped out of the TARDIS behind Donna, the first thing you noticed was that it was night but still humid, leading you to believe it was summertime and you noticed that you were surrounded by other humans which lead you to the conclusion that you were still on Earth. 

 The sound of horses hooves clicking against the cobblestone of the lively street, the attire of the people who occupied it and the medieval architecture of the buildings which aligned it all informed you that you had travelled backwards in time. 

 If you required further more indication, the foul waste which came pouring from the sky, barely missing you before Loki pulled you back, was the final confirmation you needed. You could hardly hold back the gag that threatened to rise at the back of your throat.

 “We’ve arrived somewhere before the invention of the toilet. Good to know.” The Doctor commented.

 “Listen, I’m all for time travel yeah, but that’s disgusting. I’m gonna nip to the loo on the TARDIS before we explore, I don’t wanna end up shitting in a bucket.” Donna announced before she retreated back inside the blue box, the door squeaked shut behind her.

 “I always knew you were a primitive species but that is truly a testament to how far you have come in your short lives, it is positively awe-inspiring.” Loki remarked and you glanced at him with narrowed eyes, as you tried to decipher whether to be offended or take it as a compliment. 

 “So, this is London?” You eventually asked the Doctor, while you all waited for your auntie outside the TARDIS.

 “Think so,” the Doctor let his eyes wander over the street, “round about, ooh... 1599. If I’m right, we’re just down the river, by Southwark, right next to the Globe Theatre, brand new, just opened! Though strictly speaking, it’s not a globe, it’s a tetradecagon, because of its 14 sides.” 

 “What’s that?” Donna asked, after stepping back outside the TARDIS, having caught just the end of the Doctors sentence.

 “I was just saying, the Globe Theatre isn’t technically a globe, it’s a tetradecagon, it has 14 sides.” The Doctor repeated to Donna, who pulled a face.

 “You’re always so pedantic,” Donna shook her head. “Why would they ever call it the Tetra-thingy Theatre?” 

 “Tetradecagon.” The Doctor corrected.

 “See, pedantic.” Donna pointed out, and the Doctor looked insulted.

 “As I was saying,” the Doctor returned to his original point while he glared at Donna, “the man himself should be there tonight.”

 “Shakespeare?” Loki’s interest peaked.

 “You know who Shakespeare is?” Your eyebrows lifted with surprise as you turned to Loki.

 “Believe it or not, unlike everyone on Earth, we aren’t sheltered on Asgard. What can you tell me of the Nine Realms?” Loki paused to give you a chance to answer, but your lips remained sealed as your eyes bounced around in thought. “That’s what I thought.” 

  ***

 The Doctor had lead the way to the Globe Theatre and managed to sneak all four of you inside with the use a wallet, containing a blank piece of paper, which he had explained was called psychic paper. It allowed the person who looked upon it, to see whatever the Doctor presented it as, when he had said it was tickets to the performance you were let in without any bother.

 Inside the theatre was filled to the brim, the four of you were cramped near the back of the stalls. The smell wasn’t particularly pleasant, unfortunately deodorant and other essential hygiene products weren’t invented yet but since you were stood by Loki’s side his delicious and fresh scent performed as a buffer over the foul odour and you found yourself almost snuggling into his chest as the play went on.

 Once all the cast were bowing at the end of the performance, the crowd began chanting ‘author’ commanding that Shakespeare himself make an appearance on stage.

 With his arms raised above his head and a flamboyant skip, William Shakespeare entered the stage and the cheers, whistles and applause grew even louder. He blew kisses toward the crowd, as he confidently walked back and forth across the stage, occasionally he leant down to brush the hands of the audience members below, who desperately reached out their arms in the hopes they might get to touch the renowned poet.

 In the flesh, Shakespeare appeared to be a lot more attractive than any of his portraits ever suggested. He had a head full of wavy golden brown locks and a beard to match. 

 “He’s a bit different to his portraits.” You commented to no one in particular, as you continued to enthusiastically clap along with everyone else.

 “Genius. He’s a genius. The genius, the most human human there’s ever been. And now we’re gonna hear him speak! Always, he chooses the best words, new beautiful, brilliant words...” The Doctor excitedly spoke.

 “He is one of the finer Midgardian poets. I have read most of his work, he is truly gifted with his language.” Loki added.

 “Shut ya big fat mouths!” Shakespeare merrily exclaimed to his audience, who erupted into laughter, while the Doctors and Loki’s faces fell with disappointment and they halted their applause. 

 “Oh Gods, he sounds just like my brother after one too many.” Loki realised with alarm.

 “I know what you’re all saying, Love’s Labours Lost, that’s a funny ending, isn’t it? It just stops!” Shakespeare clicked his fingers to put emphasis on the abrupt ending. “Will the boys get the girls? Well, don’t get your hose in a tangle, you’ll find out soon.”

 “When?” The audience eagerly chanted.

 “All in good time, you don’t rush a genius.” The poet lowered himself into an elegant bow before he abruptly shot back up again. 

 “When?” Shakespeare repeated his audiences question. “Tomorrow night!”

 The theatre erupted into raucous applause.

 “The premier of my brand new play! A sequel, no less! And I call it Love’s Labours Won!” You and Donna continued clapping, oblivious to the suspicious glance the Doctor and Loki shared with one another over your heads.

 ***

 “I can’t say I have ever heard of Love’s Labours Won.” Donna announced, as you were exiting the theatre, still huddled in a large crowd.

 “Me neither, is it one of his more obscure works?” You looked over your shoulder to inquire with the Doctor, who easily stood a whole head and shoulders above the crowd surrounding you, as did Loki, who was walking beside you.

 “Well, the thing is, it doesn’t exist, only in rumours. It’s mentioned lists of his plays, but never, ever turns up and no one knows why.” The Doctor explained, adding a tone of mystery to his voice as he quirked his expressive eyebrows.

 Your interest peaked almost instantly, you noticed Donna’s had too as you both shared an inquisitive look, eager to discover more about this missing play.

 “But how did it disappear in the first place?” Donna asked.

 “Well... I suppose we could stay a bit longer and find out.” The Doctor suggested, to which you and Donna shared excited smiles. 

 ***

 You collectively made the decision to spend the night in one of the inns, to not only get the full experience but the Doctor knew of which one Shakespeare occupied, this allowed him the opportunity to keep a vigilant eye on the poet, in the hopes of discovering what caused the disappearance of Love’s Labours Won.

 “Hello! Excuse me, not interrupting, am I?” The Doctor asked as he knocked on the side of the doorway, “Mr Shakespeare, isn’t it?” 

 You followed into the room behind the Doctor with Loki close behind you and Donna entering last, to find the famous writer lounging at a desk as he drank from a tin cup, with two of the actors from his play sat in front of him.

 “Oh, no. No, no, no, who let you in?” Shakespeare pinched the bridge of his nose. “No autographs. You can’t be sketched with me and please don’t ask where I get my ideas. Thanks for the interest. Now be a good boy and shove...”

 Shakespeare finally removed his fingers from the bridge of his nose and raised his hand into a shoo motion, but as he lifted his eyes to look at the Doctor they instead landed on you and his words died on his tongue. 

 “Hey nonny, nonny,” the playwright addressed you, as he suddenly sat up straight and gestured to the seat beside him. “Sit right down here next to me.” 

 Your eyes slightly widened at the interest Shakespeare displayed in you, while behind you no one noticed the way Loki had begun looking upon the poet with a shadow cast over his eyes. The innkeeper entered the room and placed her hands on the shoulders of the two actors, who were sat before Shakespeare.

 “Come on, lads, I think our William’s found his new muse.” She encouraged them to make themselves scarce, while Shakespeare rose from his seat.

 “Sweet lady,” he continued to address you as he beckoned you over to the chair one of the actors previously occupied, you politely smiled at him as you lowered yourself into the chair and he sank back into his own. 

 The Doctor sat down in the chair beside you and Donna sat on his other side, so he was sandwiched between the two of you, while Loki lingered in the back, where no one could notice the way his gaze menacingly lingered on Shakespeare.

 “I’m Sir Doctor of TARDIS and these are my companions,” the Doctor listed off your names, as he held up his wallet containing the psychic paper, which he had used to enter the Globe Theatre with, in front of William.

 “Interesting. That bit of paper, it’s blank.” Shakespeare pointed out, it appeared he was immune to the papers psychic powers.

 “Oh, that’s... very clever.” The Doctor raised his eyebrows as he let his hand holding the wallet fall limp. “That proves it. Absolute genius.”

 “Who are you, exactly?” William rested his elbow on the table and leaned forward as propped his cheek upon his fist, while he returned his attention to you. “More to the point who is your delicious lady?” 

 Donna raised her eyebrows as she looked between you and the poet. “She’s my niece.” Your auntie stated, capturing the writers attention.

 “Your niece is very captivating.” Shakespeare informed your auntie.

 “And you’re very married.” Donna countered, clearly disapproving of his flirtatious manner towards you.

 Near the back of the room, Loki’s lips lifted in a proud smile as he watched Donna shut down Shakespeare.

 “Excuse me! Hold hard a moment!” A large, heavy and bearded man, wearing a pleated collar, black robes and an elaborate gold necklace which rested over his shoulders, invited himself into the room and grabbed everyone’s attention.

 “This is absolutely abominable behaviour, a new play, with no warning! I demand to see a script, Mr Shakespeare. As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me, before it can be performed!” He lectured the playwright, who stroked his beard in an idle manner.

 “Tomorrow morning, first thing, I’ll send it round.” The experienced writer calmly answered. 

 “I don’t work to your schedule, you work to mine! The script, now!” The man demanded. 

 “I can’t!” Shakespeare finally raised his voice.

 “Then tomorrow’s performance is cancelled. Love’s Labours Won will never be played.” The man concluded, before showing himself out the room.

 “I guess that answers our questions about Love’s Labours Won. I thought it was going to be a bit more exciting than that. It usually is with you, Doctor.” Donna sighed disappointedly.

 Almost as if on cue, the shrill sound of a woman’s scream was heard from the street outside and you all stood to attention.

 “Sounds like I spoke to soon.” Donna remarked, before the Doctor sprung from his chair and dashed out the room with the rest of you following on his tail, including Shakespeare.

 Once you were all out on the street, you saw the man who had declared the cancellation of Love’s Labours Won, stumbling around and clutching at his neck as he repeatedly threw up what appeared to be water. 

 “Leave it to me, I’m a doctor.” The Doctor announced, as he rushed to the man’s aid, although he barely reached him before the man collapsed to the floor with a choked groan of pain, as water continued to pour out his mouth. 

 The man lay motionless on the straw covered cobblestone street and it appeared to be too late for the Doctor to do anything as he checked his pulse with a grim expression.

 The Doctor stood to his feet to address the innkeeper, who had come out to witness the commotion.

 “Good mistress, this poor fellow has died from a sudden imbalance of the humours. A natural, if unfortunate demise. Call a constable, have him taken away.” The Doctor instructed her, before he crouched back down by the body. 

 You followed Donna as she joined the Doctors side, you knelt on the opposite side of the body across from Donna and the Doctor and Loki settled beside you. 

 “What actually happened to him?” Donna whispered to the Doctor, understanding that what he had told the innkeeper was a lie.

 “If I’m not mistaken, it looks like witchcraft.” The Doctor suspected, his tone deadly serious.

 “Before anyone points their finger at me, I’m not a witch. I’m a sorcerer, there is a difference.” Loki proclaimed his innocence.

 “No one is blaming you.” You assured him.

 “I’m usually the first suspect when something goes wrong.” Loki explained, with a small laugh to keep it light but you still frowned, imagining how frustrating it must be to constantly be seen as the black sheep. 

 ***

 You all solemnly returned to the inn, the unexpected death of the man who had wanted to cancel Love’s Labours Won, had inspired the Doctor to stay in order to get to the bottom of it. 

 The innkeeper had accommodated the four of you with the last two unoccupied rooms of the inn, however almost looked ready to kick you all out onto the streets when Donna had suggested the Doctor and Loki take one room, while she and you take the other.

 “Two men will not lie together under my roof.” She muttered ever so quietly, as if it were far too scandalous to be said out loud.

 “The dark ages.” The Doctor sighed, while he dragged his palm down his face. “Miss Noble likes to jest,” he assured the innkeeper, who eyed the four of you suspiciously before reluctantly leaving. 

 “I broke that rule a long time ago.” Shakespeare spoke through a chuckle.

 “Oh, 57 academics just punched the air.” The Doctor muttered to himself, causing you to let out a small snort of laughter.

 ***

 Due to the innkeepers rules surrounding sleeping arrangements, this resulted in the Doctor and Donna sharing one room, while you and Loki shared the other, the rooms were situated on opposite sides of the inn.

 You and Loki stared at the double bed, both wondering who was going to be the first to break the silence. Inside your mind you were freaking out, but you didn’t let it show on your exterior, you were meant to be trying to forget these thoughts about Loki which occupied your mind, sharing a bed with him for the night would only make it worse.

 The God wordless walked further into the room, the floor loudly creaked beneath each step he took, as did the mattress once he lowered himself onto it in a sitting position, with his back turned to you. 

 He removed his tie and hung it around the post at the bottom of the bed, followed by his suit jacket and then his shoes, your heartbeat was rising with every item of clothing he removed wondering how much further he would go, but luckily he stopped there rested back onto the bed, with his pillows propped against the headboard.

 “Are you going to stand there all night?” Loki casually commented, noticing you hadn’t moved an inch since entering the room.

 You swallowed and softly moved towards the bed, noticing the floor boards didn’t creak as loudly beneath your feet and once you sat on your side of the bed, with your back turned to Loki, you copied his previous movements and began removing your shoes.

 “Shakespeare seems fond of you.” Loki remarked, as he picked at some loose thread on the blanket beneath him and you paused your actions. Maybe you were imagining it, but you could sense a certain edge to his voice that made you believe that he wasn’t only making casual conversation. 

 “Those are words I never imagined would be said towards me.” You lightly chuckled, as you resumed your movements, before you slowly shuffled up the bed to lie beside Loki.

 “It must feel nice to capture the attention of such a renowned figure of your realm.” Loki continued, and you wished instead that you could’ve captured the God’s attention in the same way.

 “I suppose,” you shrugged, despite the fact that you could admit the man was far more attractive in person than he is depicted in any of his portraits, his attempts at flirting with you hadn’t so much made you swoon but rather made you feel awkward.

 “He reminds me of my brother, you would like him.” Loki told you. “The same golden hair, the same confidence-”

 “He’s not really my type.” You quickly admitted, causing Loki to pause for a moment.

 Without looking you could tell Loki had turned on his side towards you, as you felt the uncomfortable mattress shift beneath your back. He had propped his head up on his elbow, while his other arm rested on the dip of his waist.

 “What would you describe ‘your type’ as?” Loki curiously inquired.

 You. You answered in your mind, while your lips remained sealed as you pretend to be giving it some thought while you focused on nervously fidgeting with your fingers over your stomach. 

 Eventually you lifted your eyes to Loki, his were already unapologetically focused on you. As you silently watched him from under your lashes, you willed him to read your mind from your stare alone and from the way his eyes darted over your face, you could tell he was trying.

 The candlelight which luminated the room, cause his eyelashes to cast shadows over his defined cheeks when his gaze paused on your lips for a moment too long, he drew his own lips inward to moisten them as his eyes slowly rose back to yours. 

 You leaned towards him, ever so slightly and nervously swallowed as he moved the hand he was using to support his head, to brush some loose strands of hair away from your face. His other arm made the mattress dip beside your waist, as he used it to support his weight as he leaned his upper body over you.

 His long hair fell untidily around his face and you hesitantly reached out your own hand to tuck one side of it behind his ear, surprised by how silky it felt against your fingertips. You let your palm cradle his sharp jaw as he slowly lowered his own face towards yours and both your eyelids fell shut as you waited to feel the sensation of the others lips moving against your own, but just as you felt his warm breath fan against your skin, an ear piercing scream caused you to shoot up with alarm and your forehead to smack against Loki’s.

 “Fuck!” You both cried in unison as you cradled your throbbing foreheads in your palms. The sound of loud footsteps running past your door from the hallway outside, reminded you of what caused you to startle in the first place and you quickly jumped from your bed, ignoring the way the pain in your head protested against it and rushed after the sound of the footsteps down the stairs. 

 “She died of fright.” You heard the Doctor conclude, as you turned through the doorway to the study Shakespeare was working in, to find the time lord leaning over the innkeeper’s dead body. Your auntie was stood at the open window, as if searching for something, and Shakespeare looked dazed as he sat at his desk with confusion written all over his face.

 “I don’t like how this is turning into the plot of Clue.” You commented, before you jumped when you heard footsteps behind you, only to relax when you saw they belonged to Loki.

 “Doctor!” Donna called from the window, and he immediately rushed over to catch what she was looking at but unfortunately it seemed he wasn’t quick enough.

 “What did you see?”

 “A witch.” Your auntie answered, as if she could hardly believe herself.

 ***

 During the early hours of the morning, the innkeepers body had been removed by a coroner and the Doctor had stayed up until the crack of dawn began to peak through the inn’s windows, trying to figure out how the sudden deaths and the witchcraft all linked to the disappearance of Love’s Labours Won.

 You and Loki provided little help, hardly listening to the Doctor as he voiced his thoughts loud. You were both to occupied with distracting one other, as you kept glancing at each other from across the room, the tension between the both of you had been building ever since your chance to share a kiss was stolen away from you. 

 Looking around the room, you could see everyone was caught up with trying to come up with explanations for what was happening and you realised you could probably slip out the room without anyone noticing or at least not paying it much attention.

 Giving Loki a look which made a crease form between his eyebrows you rose from your chair and quietly made your way towards the door leading to the hallway, you paused once more under the arch of the doorway and gave Loki another look, which caused his eyebrows to rise with understanding, before you disappeared into the hallway.

 You walked up the stairs and entered the room you and Loki were sharing, hoping he would figure out where to find you, you sat on the bottom of the bed as you waited.

 It wasn’t long until you heard footsteps approaching the room, no one could ever hope to move around quietly on the floorboards of the inn. The doorway to your room was lower than the others, which meant when Loki walked through it he had to duck his head. After he gently shut the door behind him, he turned and paused with his back to the door, you were looking at him, from where you sat on the bed, with a wide smile as giggles threatened to rise from your stomach at the secrecy of it all.

 “I was meant to follow after you, right?” Loki checked, as he walked further into the room.

 You nodded as you rose to your feet and met him halfway.

 “I’ve never done this before,” Loki bashfully admitted, as he looked down. “Sneak away with someone in secret, I mean.”

 “You never had anyone to sneak away with in that big old palace on Asgard?” You asked, putting little effort into hiding your surprise. “I assume you lived in a palace, I don’t actually know…”

 “Yes, I grew up in a palace,” Loki chuckled, “and no, there was no one to sneak away with in it, that was more Thor’s arena.”

 “I’ve never done this either,” you confessed, “I had visions of myself waiting here and you not showing up because I didn’t make myself clear enough and then having to return to the room pretending I just took a piss in a bucket.” 

 Loki’s laughter grew louder and his smile wider, as crinkles appeared at the side of his eyes which lit up his entire face, you decided you would like to see this expression on him more.

 You reached your hand up to his face and gently rested your palm against his cheek and in return you felt his large hands engulf your hips as they gently pulled you closer. Your other hand rose to his shoulder and brushed along it until you curled your fingers around the back of his neck to slowly pull his face towards yours.

 This time you felt his lips mould against yours without any interruptions, his right hand left your hip to brush up to the small of your back, the back of your shirt slightly rode up with his hand, and he pulled you closer so your chests were flush, while your whole arm snaked around the back of his neck and you felt the tips of his soft hair tickle against your bare forearm.

 Blindly Loki guided you towards the bed, never lifting his lips from yours for one second. Once he felt the back of his calves hit the bed frame, he let himself fall onto the mattress, it let out a squeak as did you, and you giggled against his mouth as you made yourself comfortable in his lap with your legs resting on either side of his hips.

 His hands moved to hold you firmly around your waist as your palms rested on both his shoulders. Reluctantly, you pulled away from the kiss, and turned your head away to let out a yawn, exhausted from staying up until dawn.

 “I’m that boring, huh?” Loki joked, as his hands soothed up and down the sides of your ribs.

 “I’m sorry,” you hummed, as you gave him a small peck, “I guess my lack of sleep finally caught up with me.” 

 “You should rest,” Loki suggested, as he attached his lips to the column of your neck to leave feather light kisses, you let out a throaty groan in response as the tips of your fingers dug into his shoulders.

 “Will you stay with me?” You asked with closed eyes, as you tilted your head to the side to give him better access to your neck, you felt his hand climb up your spine, before his fingers buried themselves into your hair as he cradled the back of your head. “I know you don’t need as much sleep as humans do, but will you stay with me while I do?”

 Loki lifted his head from your neck to look at you, while his fingers which were buried in your hair, gently massaged over your scalp which sent a calming sensation running straight down your spine, relaxing you even further and making your eyelids heavier. 

 You couldn’t see it on his face, but Loki was shocked by the fact you trusted him enough to wish to sleep beside him. His lips parted ever so slightly, as he stared up at you through his lashes with wide eyes full of wonder. He didn’t know what to say, so he simply nodded, which caused you to tiredly smile and give him another small kiss as thanks.

 As you both moved up the bed, the mattress creaked and squeaked beneath you. Loki rested on his back and you crawled up to him and rested your head on his chest, you could feel it softly rise and fall and you could hear his heartbeat while his calming sent surrounded you, and they all worked together to help lull you off into a peaceful sleep.

 Before you drifted off, you felt Loki’s arm curl around your shoulders while the tips of his fingers softly brushed against your arm, causing goosebumps to rise where they travelled. 

 Loki planted a kiss on the top of your head, before he let his own eyes fall shut, deciding to give sleep a try even though he wasn’t feeling particularly tired.

 ***

 You were abruptly woken up by the sounds of screams and lightening coming from the street outside your room. Due to the fact none of the candles were lit, it was filled with darkness, the only thing luminating the room was an unsettling red glow, which shone through the windows of the inn. You shot up immediately and discovered Loki had fallen asleep, kneeling on the mattress beside him you put your hand on his shoulder and shook him awake.

 “What is it?” His voice sounded croaky from his sleep, he soon heard the screams and noticed the sinister red glow of the room, he jumped from the bed and rushed to the window and you followed after him, your jaw dropped and your hand came up to your mouth at what you saw.

 From your second story window of the inn, you had a perfect view of the Globe Theatre and right now storm clouds and lightening swirled around it, while luminous crimson smoke rose from the centre. On the streets below groups of people desperately rushed away from the theatre crying and screaming.

 “Donna and the Doctor are probably already at the theatre, we have to go!” You rushed back to the bed to pull on your shoes and Loki did the same.

 Once you were both ready, you ran out of the inn and into the chaos on the street. Loki took your hand in his as you both began running towards the Globe Theatre, so you wouldn’t get separated by the large crowds running against you. 

 When you reached the theatre, you saw the stage door was slightly ajar and ran straight towards it, pulling Loki along with you. 

 As soon as you reached the stage, and saw your auntie, the Doctor and Shakespeare all stood on it, you dropped Loki’s hand. You missed the way the God’s brows formed a crease while he looked down at your hand, as you were too distracted by the terrifying sight before you. 

 Your hair blew around your face wildly, as in the centre of the theatre there was what only could be described as a hurricane of scarlet mist and lightning bolts and dark horrifying figures flew around inside the swirling phenomenon.

 “Donna!” You called, as you rushed to her side.

 She called your name when she turned over her shoulder and saw you and pulled you towards her.

 “What’s going on?” You yelled above the commotion, Loki stood closely beside you and listened to the conversation.

 “They want to end the world, take over and build their new empire.” Donna explained with tears in her eyes, “we’re too late, there’s nothing we can do.” 

 Your lips fell slack and you looked back towards the swirling flaming red mist with terror, realising it was a portal, to unleash evil upon the world.

 You looked up at Loki, his long black hair waved around his face from the gusts caused by the portal, he was staring at it with a thoughtful expression before his eyes locked with yours and he saw the fear in them. 

 With a determined look, Loki walked towards the edge of the stage, you noticed the luminous emerald mist already starting to form in his palms before he lifted them towards the centre of the theatre. His right foot came backwards, to support his weight, as his magic pushed against him but he leaned his upper body into it.

 With one hand he focused his magic on the centre of the theatre, before he moved the other to direct a burst of magic towards the royal box, your eyes followed the green mist and widened when you saw three witches who you hadn’t noticed before. With his magic focusing on the witches who were the source of the power, the portal began to deteriorate and was easily engulfed by Loki’s magic. 

 The God raised both his arms into the air, and a green surge of light shot into the night sky, taking the portal with it, the force caused the doors behind the stage to fly open and hundreds of loose pages flew into the air and with a resounding boom everything vanished, the only evidence left behind was a faint green mist which slowly began to dissipate. Even the three witches who had been sat in the royal box were gone, the only thing left behind was a crystal ball which sat on the edge of the balcony.

 The remaining members of the audience, who hadn’t managed to escape, began to slowly clap until they erupted into enthusiastic cheers and applause. 

 From the side of the stage, you watched Loki glance around at the audience, as he momentarily appeared to be caught off guard but he quickly regained his composure and lowered himself into an elegant bow with both his arms spread wide and the audience began applauding him even louder.

 Shakespeare appeared by your side and took your hand in his, your other hand was already holding Donna’s and he guided you both to the edge of the stage, beside Loki and the three of you bowed in unison, however the entire time your eyes were locked on Loki as he stared at your hand which was held in the poets, and that dangerous shadow cast over his eyes again as his jaw clenched.

 ***

 Loki had avoided you for the rest of the night. When you all returned to the inn, due to the fact most of the guests had fled the town in fright when the portal opened, there were suddenly a lot more rooms going spare. Loki had vanished to one of the rooms without a word, despite the fact everyone was trying to bestow him with gratitude and praise for literally saving the world, he ignored it all.

 You had stayed in the common room, with Donna, the Doctor and Shakespeare as they explained everything that had happened. The witches in the royal box had possessed Shakespeare last night as he was writing the end of Love’s Labours Won and wrote a spell into the script, the innkeeper must have witnessed this and died from the fright. They had killed the man who had tried to cancel the play as they needed it to be performed and for the actor to read the spell out loud on stage to open the portal, which would’ve allowed millions of their kind to travel through and invade Earth, the Doctor had called them the Carrionites. 

 The entire time you couldn’t keep Loki off your mind, the look on his face when he saw your hand in Shakespeare’s, kept appearing behind your eyes, making your heart sink deeper each time. As soon as Donna and the Doctor had finished explaining everything to you, you excused yourself and headed upstairs to the rooms and stopped in front of the door which you had seen Loki disappear behind.

 “Loki?” You softly knocked on the door, but there came no response. You tried the handle, but it was firmly locked.

 “Can we talk?” You tried again, and you waited, but still nothing.

 You rested your forehead against the door in defeat and sighed. 

 “Goodnight, Loki.” You whispered before you retreated to your room.

 ***

 The next morning the Doctor had decided to return to the theatre to see if he could help Shakespeare salvage any parts of Love’s Labours Won, but it seemed as though all traces of it vanished when Loki destroyed the portal, finally solving your mystery of how it disappeared. 

 Loki still hadn’t emerged from his room, even when you had knocked on his door to inform him that you were all heading to the theatre and then from there you would be returning to the TARDIS. 

 You were beginning to feel incredibly worried about him while you sat on a wooden box on the stage of the Globe Theatre as your concerns raced through your mind. 

 “What troubles you?” You startled, since you had been too distracted by your worries to even notice that Shakespeare had taken a seat beside you on the box.

 You contemplated whether or not you should actually tell the poet what was troubling you or if you should dismiss him, you realised that you couldn’t really voice your worries to Donna or the Doctor since neither of them knew about what happened between you and Loki yet. At least with Shakespeare he would be out of your life for good within the hour, so you decided you could share it with him.

 “It’s Loki,” you sighed sadly, “he has been avoiding me.”

 You suddenly felt the weight of his hand on your lower back, as he pulled you closer and you stiffened.

 “If Loki won’t give you his attention. Why not entertain a man who will?” Shakespeare proposed, before he began leaning his face towards yours. 

 Your eyes widened and you immediately brought your hands to his chest to push him away.

 “It seems I arrived at the wrong time.” As soon as you heard Loki’s familiar deep voice, your heart plummeted in your chest. 

 “Loki,” you looked over your shoulder at him, guilt already filling your eyes, despite the fact you hadn’t actually done anything wrong. You weren’t going to kiss Shakespeare, you had been milliseconds away from pushing him off the box.  

 You rose to your feet and tried to walk towards Loki but he took a step backwards to maintain the distance and you got the hint.

 “Good props store, back there!” The Doctor caught your attention, you turned and saw him and Donna returning to the stage, dressed in various different props and costume pieces.

 “Not sure about this, though.” He held up what appeared to be a large animals skull in his left hand, you couldn’t depict what it was, but it looked ghastly. “Reminds me of a Sycorax.” 

 “Sycorax.” Shakespeare repeated. “Nice word. I’ll have that one off you as well.”

 “I should be on 10%.” The Doctor muttered. 

 “Mobius.” You heard Loki gasp from behind you, and your attention turned to his line of sight, to find a fair haired man, with a moustache and wearing a plain brown suit enter the theatre by one of the stalls entrances, followed by a group of armed officers. You instantly recognised him as the man Loki had been hiding from in Pompeii.

 “It’s nice to finally see you again, Loki.” The man spoke, sounding like an old friend, but there was definitely something far more sinister hiding in his tone. 

 By now the exchange had captured everyone’s attention, as you all glanced between Loki and the new stranger Loki had addressed as Mobius. 

 “How did you find me?” Loki asked, as he stepped towards the edge of the stage. 

 “It wasn’t too hard, we’ve been tracking seismic activities of your magic. You lead us right to you.” Mobius smiled, it seemed that composed smile never left his face. From how uneasy Loki appeared, you decided you disliked him already.

 “I’d just like to know, who would be idiotic enough to give you, of all people, free rein through all of time and space.” Mobius asked Loki, who had parted his lips to answer but before he could, the Doctor stepped up to the edge of the stage beside him.

 “That would be me.” The Doctor announced, still dressed in all the props he had found back stage, including a pleated collar and an oversized beret while he still held the disturbing animal skull, he looked quite the spectacle.

 Mobius was speechless for a moment, as his eyes dragged up and down the Doctor’s tall form.

 “He’s a time lord.” Loki proudly lifted his head, as one might just before they lay down their cards to reveal a winning hand.

 Mobius smile finally dropped, and you couldn’t help the smirk that lifted at the corner of your lips, proud to see Loki have an advantage.

 “Impossible. They’re all gone.” Mobius tried to hide any traces of confusion from his face and tone and instead feigned confidence in his statement.

 “All except me.” The Doctor explained, and you practically saw the realisation hit Mobius at full force.

 “You’re...” The words died on Mobius’ tongue, before his eyes filled with horror.

 “I’m beginning to get the feeling that they don’t honour me as much as they do the other time lords.” The Doctor whispered to Loki, who was now frowning.

 Mobius commanded something you couldn’t hear to the armed officers around him and they raised their weapons.

 “I think that is our cue to run.” The Doctor decided as he slowly began backing away, he threw the animals skull at Shakespeare, who quickly caught it, then took Donna’s hand in his own as he rushed past her and lead her out the stage door with you and Loki following closely behind him.

 You followed the trail of the Doctors long brown trench coat, through the busy streets, glad that he seemed to memorise the way to the TARDIS because you had no idea, while you had flashbacks of running for your life through Pompeii, except this time you were running from the exact same thing Loki had been. 

  Once the familiar blue box caught your eye, your legs began carrying you even quicker as you made your final sprint towards it. The Doctor was already at the door, holding it open, you made it in first and then Loki closely after you.

 The Doctor wasted no time and immediately rushed to the controls to get the TARDIS out of there as soon as possible, while you leant over the rail, as you tried to catch your breath. You felt the sharp pain of a stitch in your side and brought the tips of your fingers up to your abdomen and dug them into your skin where you felt the pain, in an attempt to ease it.

 Just as the familiar tremors and the sound of the engine wheezing filled the control room, an outside force caused the ship to jerk harshly and sent you crashing to the floor.

 “Shit.” You cursed under your breath, as pain shot through your hip from the impact of hitting the hard floor.

 Glancing around it seemed everyone else had managed to maintain their balance, the Doctor was still frantically working at the controls, Donna was glancing at you with concern from the other side of the control room and Loki looked lost in thought while he held on tight to the rail.

 Eventually the tremors subsided and the TARDIS settled into a tranquil state and the Doctor collapsed into the seats with his feet rested up against the ships console, looking exhausted as he finally pulled the pleated collar from off his neck with a heavy sigh.

 “Well… now we’re all on the run from the Time Variance Authority.” The time lord concluded. 

[httpsaiki]

Hi. Sry to bother you but I saw requests were open. Could I maybe get a Kusuo x male reader? They are on a date and maybe Kusuo is a little more laid back and soft. His friends catch him with this very sweet boy and are kinda confused. It’s revealed that they are dating and his friends are kinda ???? cause they didn’t really know Saiki was gay? Ik this is bad but I just love my husband and wanna read abt all his dumbass friends trying to wrap their heads around Saiki being a soft and caring boyfriend (and him being with such a soft and caring boyfriend). Pls no pressure and you can ignore this of course. Have an amazing day/night!

Hi! You are most certainly not bothering me, and this is anything but bad, it's so damn adorable!!! I really hope this is good, it was so so much fun to write and I loved that idea so much. I apologize if this was a bit overboard or not really what you wanted! And, hey, nothing wrong with wanting to see Saiki being soft, I mean, don’t we all? You have an amazing day or night yourself! Thank you so so much for this request!

----

Reader is male! This is very cute! No warnings.

WC: 1473

Italics are Kusuo “speaking” aka telepathy.

In which the reader and Kusuo go on a cute date, but the nuisances stumble upon them, forcing Kusuo to introduce his boyfriend.

—————————————————–

“Kusuo! I’m here!” You yelled out into his house. You’d received a telepathic message that said nothing more than Come over from your boyfriend. Interested, you were quick to arrive at his house, feeling free to just let yourself in. You opened the door looking for him, walking into the house. 

“There you are!” You exclaimed, happily running towards him. Kusuo was quick to open his arms, pulling you in for a hug with a small smile. You were rather lucky, being the only person to ever see him this sweet and soft. The two of you hugged for a short time, neither one wanting to let go. It had been merely two days since you’d last gotten a chance to see each other, but it felt like an eternity. Separating from the hug, you looked up at Kusuo, your smile growing. You stared at him for a bit, before opening your mouth to speak.

“So what did you need?” You said, a more serious expression replacing your previous smile. Kusuo froze at your question, clearly not sure how to answer. 

“...Nothing. I just missed you.” He reluctantly replied, trying to hide his face without making it obvious he was even the slightest bit flustered. As your smile came back, you had an idea.

“Kuu! Let’s go somewhere!”

“Where are you thinking?” An ironic question - as he knew exactly where you wanted to take him. All you did was smile, grab his hand, and make your way downstairs. Off to the park, it was! After a quick stop in the kitchen to pack some lunch boxes, you and your boyfriend were out the door. 

Sitting hand in hand, casually eating your lunches and chatting, you and Kusuo were quite happy on your date. It was perfect out, there was a nice light breeze and it was far from too hot out. Kusuo was calm and relaxed, which was a rare occurrence. He usually looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it probably wasn’t an obscene guess to assume he really did. 

Despite that, you enjoyed being like this. It was so nice to see Kusuo relax, and you knew he appreciated the chance for peace and quiet. You’d made sure he put his ring on before sitting down so that he could truly enjoy it with you. Even if that meant less talking from him, he hated actually speaking - you really didn't mind, he was able to relax. Besides, he loved listening to you talk to him anyway. Kusuo’s eyes were closed as he rested his head on your shoulder. Lunch was long finished and you were telling him about something silly that happened at school the other day. It was so clear how badly he needed this, and you were more than happy to oblige.

Suddenly, that was all ruined as his shoulders tensed up, and his head lifted off your shoulder. You heard it too.

“Hey, pal!” 

Nendou. Great.

“Hey look, it’s Saiki! Oh- who’s that he's with?” Teruhashi? Was she here too? You’d heard all about his so-called friends, but never met them as Kusuo “didn’t want you to suffer from their stupid”. You adjusted your hand that was holding Kusuo’s, carefully moving so that his ring would come off but you wouldn’t have to let go. You could tell having them here without being able to read their thoughts was a stressful experience for him.

Kusuo let out a sigh, now being able to identify who had come up behind him. He counted three, recognizing the thoughts of Nendou, Teruhashi, and Kaidou. This was not preferable. He was in no way prepared for them to meet his boyfriend, he hadn’t even told them he had one. He felt your thumb rubbing circles on his hand in comfort. He may act like he doesn’t like his friends, but you knew he was scared they wouldn’t accept him nonetheless. Despite being able to read their thoughts, it was still anxiety-inducing for him to actually have to tell them.

Teruhashi was first to take note of how relaxed he looked (despite his current internal struggle), and your hands being interlocked together. She was highly observant, after all. You were sitting close enough to him that your arms were touching. Was her conclusion really correct?

“Saiki? Is that… Are you...?” She trailed off, not sure if she should continue or not.

Kaidou picked up where she left off, “You have a boyfriend?”. He said as he pointed towards your hands, still tightly locked together. 

Kusuo looked over to you, where you simply nodded to him, silently letting him know it’s okay to continue. He sighed, was he really ready? Oh well. No avoiding it now. 

“Yes. I’m gay. And… Y/N. His name is Y/N.” He stood up to face them as he spoke, pulling you with him. You extended your other hand out to shake each of his friends' hands, politely introducing yourself to each of them.

All of his friends were focused on how close the two of you seemed. They saw already how happy you made Kusuo, and they were all prepared to support him no matter what. They had no idea he was gay but were delighted that he now trusted them enough to tell them. What they couldn’t believe was how sweet he was being? They saw before, he was all cuddled up to you? Never had any of them imagined Kusuo could be so soft towards someone. He seemed really attached to you, and they’d never seen him more relaxed nor this content. It was clear Kusuo wanted to be near you - something none of them had ever seen from him before. It was something he would likely never admit out loud, but it was made clear by his actions and his body language around you. It was a strange sight to see but in the best possible way. 

Even more, you seemed way too sweet to be with someone like Kusuo. You had a large smile painted on your face the entire time, and it seemed like on the surface you were polar opposites. They just didn’t expect you to be Kusuo’s type. They were really learning a lot about him today, huh? Somehow they unanimously agreed they’d never expected someone like you to be with him, but needless to say, if Kusuo of all people liked you, you had to be pretty great.

“Well,” Teruhashi started, “we’d better leave you to enjoy your date. Have fun!” She spoke, walking away with the two others as not to impose. As they left, the group discussed what they’d just discovered. They were shocked. But overall they were excited for you both, although still, a tad bit surprised both at Kusuo having a boyfriend and his entirely different demeanor. 

“I don’t believe it,” Kaidou spoke in a tone of pure confusion, “Saiki can show emotion?” The rest of the group laughed a bit, clearly, he was kidding, although they did agree with him. It seemed Nendou hadn’t understood the situation, he was even more confused than Teruhashi and Kaidou. None of them could quite comprehend what they’d seen but were rather happy about having learned of a new side to their pink-haired friend.

After Kusuo’s friends left, it was decided that it was time to go home. That had been pretty emotionally draining for Kusuo, and it was better to give him a chance to rest. Once the picnic was packed, you walked back to his house, still hand in hand (Kusuo not-so-secretly preferred it that way).

Once back at his house, you made your way up to his room. Kusuo looked up at you, tears in his eyes. You pulled him in so that his head was resting on your chest and you wrapped your arms around him. Worried, you pet his hair and let him let his feelings out.

“They… accepted me. Y/N, they accepted us.” You’d never seen Kusuo smile so wide.

“Of course they did Kusuo, they do genuinely like you.”

Kusuo let out a small sniffle. You could tell just how much their acceptance meant to him. He started moving towards his bed, that whole ordeal was tiring. He needed a nap. You started gathering your things, getting ready to leave so that he could sleep in peace when you felt your hand being grabbed.

“Stay. Please?”

“Of course.”

You laid down beside him, allowing him to roll over and be close to you. As Kusuo dozed off, you continued to pet his hair, planting a small kiss on the top of his head every now and then. You both stayed like that the rest of the night, you eventually dozing off as well. It had been one of the best dates you’d ever had.

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Let Them Eat Cake Part V

Hey guys! Sorry for the delay with this chapter, but this one is a long one so I hope that makes up for it!

Tonight on The Great British Bake Off…

“It’s all burned!”

“Oh my god, I forgot to put them in.”

“It’s all curdled. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Remus woke up that morning with a bitter taste in his mouth. That was happening a lot lately. He got ready in a series of mechanic motions, showering, dressing, brushing his teeth. He met Lily outside the hotel, and she being the magical being that she was, had a coffee in a take-away cup ready for him.

“Hey,” She said softly. “You ready for today?”

Remus bit the inside of his cheek. “I suppose I’ll have to be.”

Six days earlier...

“Take a walk with me?” Sirius asked and Remus nodded his affirmations. As if he could say no. He followed Sirius out of the tent and they started strolling in the opposite direction of the hotel, avoiding the crowds of the bakers and crew packing up for the day.

“So you made it.” Sirius said after a moment or two of silence. Remus sneaked a peek at the other man out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah,” He said scratching the back of his neck. “If I had gone home I’m not sure if I ever would have been able to eat chocolate again, and that would be a big problem since I think it’s my main food group.”

Sirius burst out laughing and Remus blushed a little, pleased. They were well out of ear shot of anyone else, almost out of sight too. There was a massive oak tree in the middle of an open field and Sirius stepped onto the grass grinning. 

“C’mere, I found a cool spot.”

Remus bit down a smile as he followed him, taking a breath in when they rounded the wide trunk and found a wide swing hanging from a branch, the trunk of the tree completely shielding them from view.

“This is amazing.” Remus said, reaching out to touch the rope, running his fingers over the wooden planks forming a seat. “When did you find this place?”

Sirius shrugged and sat on one side of it, the swing tilting ever so slightly with the imbalance. “Some time in the first few days.” He patted the space still left open, “You gonna sit?”

“Who else knows about it?” Remus asked, rounding the swing. 

“As far as I know… just me. And now you.”

Remus sat and the ropes evened out again. Remus rocked back and forth on his toes a little, the swing swaying soothingly with him.

“It’s brilliant, I love it.” 

Sirius smiled. “Yeah, I thought you would.”

Today...

“Guys! Hang on!” Remus heard but before he had even turned around, someone crashed into him.

“Woah!” He exclaimed, stumbling a little because suddenly he had a bubbly pink haired woman on his back.

“Hi Tonks.” He said laughing, when he had recovered his footing. Tonks wrapped her legs tightly around his waist.

“Don’t let the cardigans fool you,” She said to Lily seriously, “He’s deceptively strong.”

Lily smiled, Peter falling in line with them. “I can see that.”

“Ooh! Bake Off love!” Marlene exclaimed, snapping a couple of pictures of them all together, Tonks still on Remus’ back. “These will be great on Instagram.”

“Oh great, now there’s gonna be theories of us dating.” Remus said dryly,  even though he smiled a little. “What do you think our ship name will be?” 

“Ronks.” Lily snorted and no one could stop themselves from laughing at it.

“Is it bad that I kinda like it?” Tonks said, still giggling. “Like it’s ridiculous but that's why you’ve gotta love it.”

Remus nodded and bumped their hips together playfully. “It’s a perfect fit for a perfect couple.” He teased, then ignored the slight pang in his chest, even at his own words.

“Wait, you guys are dating?” Peter asked, completely bewildered and Remus shot him an incredulous look. 

“Of course we’re not, we’re just joking Pete.”

Tonks gasped, her hand covering her chest. “Are you saying you wouldn’t want to be with me?”

“Of course not my love, we would be spectacular.”

“You can see why I’d get confused,” Peter mumbled to Lily.

“But,” Remus continued, drawing out the word before quickly spitting out the next sentence as he laughed a little. “I’m much to gay for that.”

“Here, here!” Tonks cried and they joked all the way down to the set. “Semi finals next week, I can’t believe we’re here already.”

“Oh my god I’m so not ready to think about that yet.” Lily chimed in, Remus and Peter nodding their agreements.

Remus felt his shoulders tense as they entered the tent, but after a quick glance around, he realised Sirius wasn’t there. He probably shouldn’t be so relieved, he would have to see him eventually so really Remus was just prolonging the inevitable but you can’t blame a guy for wanting to avoid an awkward situation. He stood at his station, but turned around so he was leaning on Lily’s counter as they chatted. He stayed that way until the producers started yelling for everyone to get ready and he turned around. At some point Sirius had come into the room. Remus didn’t meet his gaze.

“Welcome back! This week on The Great British Bake Off… It’s pudding week!”

“For our signature challenge,” Sirius continued, “Our judges have asked that you make a bread and butter pudding.”

“Sounds simple right?.” James grinned. “The catch is, you have to make it with bread you bake yourself.”

“Your time starts now, ready?”

“Set.” 

“Bake!”

Remus looked away from the head of the tent as quickly as he could, ready to have an excuse to not look at Sirius. Especially Sirius in a leather jacket. He gathered his ingredients and set to work. Bread and butter pudding. That he could do.

Six days earlier...

“So,” Remus said as he swayed them back and forth. “Here we are.”

Sirius smiled. “Here we are.”

Remus bit his lip for a moment trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to say. So, you like my mouth? You wanted to talk? Do you think about me the same way I think about you?

Instead he blurted out; “What’s your favourite cake?”

Sirius blink then looked at him with this startled but pleased smile. Like he was surprised by the question, but also like he had known Remus’ words before Remus even spoke them.

“Lemon meringue pie.”

“That’s not a cake.”

“But it’s still my favourite.”

Remus pursed his lips to hide his smile. “That's… sweeter than you usually like.” 

Sirius’ small smile grew. “Correct as always. It’s less to do with taste and more to do with memories I guess.”

Remus tilted his head. “Yeah? What memories?”

Sirius laughed a little. “Inquisitive today aren’t we?”

Remus raised an eyebrow. His signature move. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?” He asked pointedly.

Sirius looked at him knowingly for a moment, but then shook his head minutely. “James’ mum used to make it every Sunday. She even taught me how, after I’d badger her to make more.”

Remus grinned. “She sounds great.”

“Sirius relaxed a bit, leaning back against the rope and tucking on foot under his knee. If Remus did it, he would have looked ridiculous and would most likely have fallen right off the swing and flat on his face on the ground. But when Sirius did it, the movement retained all the airs Sirius brought to the world, carefree, casual. elegant.

“So, how do you feel after this week?”

Remus groaned. “Can we not talk about Bake Off? I mean I love it and all but I need a break.”

Sirius chuckled. “That’s fair. I suppose I could use one too.”

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do?” Remus asked and it wasn’t until he said it that he realised it sounded almost flirty.

Surprise flickered in Sirius’ grey eyes and his gaze flickered from Remus’ own amber eyes to his lips. Remus tilted his head ever so slightly, tongue wetting his lips a little as his breath hitched and they were both leaning in, closer and closer until-

“-Remus.” Sirius said voice low, jaw clenching even as his eyes stayed trained on Remus’ lips. “We shouldn’t.”

Remus frowned, the spell breaking a little. “What? I don’t understand.”

“We work together.” Sirius said, sitting back once again and turning his head away. “It would be frowned upon.”

Remus looked at him in disbelief. “Who says anyone has to know?”

Sirius tugged on the tie in his hair and the dark waves tumbled down to his shoulders before he ran his fingers through it. “You’re looking strong for winning this thing. I don’t want anyone doubting your integrity.”

Remus shook his head in pure and utter confusion. “But Sirius, you’re not a judge. I don’t think it would even be possible for you to ruin my integrity.”

Sirius just shook his head silently. Throat tight, Remus stood up and took a few steps away. He looked back at Sirius and paused. 

“What about everything you said? Sirius, I know you were flirting with me. And just forty minutes ago you asked me to come here with you. What happened?”

“I remembered.” Sirius said hollowly.

“Remember what?”

But Sirius didn’t answer. Remus waited, but the other man just stood up and walked away. Remus sat back down for a moment and put his head in his hands. How did he get here? This morning he felt sure. Now he felt… well he didn’t know what he felt.

He hung back to give Sirius a head start so there would be no chance of them running into each other. Then Remus stood up and walked back to the hotel. Alone.

TODAY…

“Fucking fuck fuckeroo I’ve fucking burned my freaking bread. Fuck!” Remus said as he pulled the slightly overdone loaf from the oven.

“Hey Remus, want to try again, but like… viewer friendly this time?” Marlene called.

Remus flipped her off but then gave her a thumbs up and went again.

“Oh no! I’ve burned the bread!” He cried and Marlene rolled her eyes. 

“Remus Lupin I’m going to have you fired.”

“Love you too!” He said with a wink before turning back to figure out what the hell he was going to try to do.

“You’re awful.” Lily said to him as she took her own loaves out of the oven.

Remus shot her a wink too. “I know.”

In the end, Remus cut off all the crusts of his bread, knowing that it might slightly impede the structural integrity but at the same time… It was a pudding. They barely have any structure in the first place.

He whipped up his cream and added in some saffron, nutmeg and sugar then began making layers upon layers of bread and cream. He left out any raisins both because he hated them and he knew Dumbledore had a particular aversion to them and well he was willing to do anything to win a little bit of favour. He covered it all with another thick layer of cream, sprinkling the top with extra nutmeg and cinnamon.

He popped it into the oven and set his timer before asking Lily to keep an eye on his station for a moment just in case while he nipped off to the loo.

As soon as he stepped out of the tent they filmed in, he was hit with a wave of cool air and he breathed in gratefully - having several ovens in one space always led to quite a hot temperature in the tent. He splashed some water on his face in the bathroom and rolled back his shoulders. He didn’t know why he felt so… off. Okay he did, and that reason was the notorious Sirius Black, but Remus had decided from the very first day that he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of his baking. And here he was doing exactly that. He squared his shoulders and met his own eyes in the mirror. 

“Get a grip.” He told himself and went back to the tent.

Apparently his little pep talk had absolutely no effect, because after burning his bread, he topped off the baking experience by burning the pudding too. It was beginning to look like another stellar baking week for Remus.

“It’s a bit dark.” McGonagall commented as she dolled out a serving for both herself and Dumbledore.

‘Yeah no shit’ Remus wanted to say. Instead he just nodded his head.

“Even with the cream, the bread is a little dry.” Dumbledore said after taking a bite. Remus clenched his jaw, frustrated with himself. “And it’s a little bitter from being in the oven a nit too long. Overall, not your best work Mr Lupin.”

Remus sat down once more and found himself taking a shaky breath. That was definitely not how he wanted to start this week. He comforted himself by saying that he’d do much better in the other challenges. Nearly everybody else did quite well. The only person worse than Remus was Peter who had somehow, by laws unknown to Remus and possibly to science had managed to have quite a liquid consistency. 

Remus went to lunch a little put-out but chatting with everyone never failed to cheer him up almost instantly.

“They could have drank it with a straw!” Peter moaned, dropping his forehead onto the table. “I don’t even know how! The cream was whipped so well before it all went in the oven!”

“Hard luck mate.” James said, patting Peter on the shoulder as he slid into a seat next to Lily. Remus didn’t miss the way they leaned slightly towards each other. He wondered if their story would end better than his and Sirius’. Even Kingsley had joined them, making Sirius’ absence more stark.

“What’s Twitter up to this week?” Tonks asked, peering over Remus’ shoulder as he pulled the page up. 

“Um, let’s see,” Remus typed in the bake off tag and watched as all the posts rolled up. “They’re still weak for your hair Tonks,” He said and Tonks flicked her hair dramatically in response. “Oh my god there’s a twitter war.”

“Wait what?” Tonks asked, leaning in closer as everyone else gathered around. 

“From the picture of you and me this morning. There’s people shipping you and me versus people shipping me and Sirius.”

“Oh my god, that is comedy gold.” Peter said, oblivious. Remus didn’t know what Sirius had told James, but he suspected SOMETHING from the careful way James controlled his face. 

“I’m just gonna see where Sirius is.” James said as he stood up. “I don’t know what’s taking him so long.”

The pair didn’t return for lunch, the next everyone saw of them was when shooting recommenced. Remus had given himself a mental pep talk as he walked back to his station, consisting purely of ‘Come on Lupin, don’t fuck this up, you can do it’. 

“You ready?” Lily queried as the microphones were put into position.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, you?”

“About the same I’d say.”

“Okay and we’re recording in three, two and one.” Marlene said, pointing her finger towards James and Sirius to indicate that they were rolling.

“Our bakers just faced their signature challenge and while they might not have liked it, I must say, it was my bread and butter!” James opened and Remus covered his mouth with his hand because he refused to have the entire nation know he was even mildly amused by that terrible pun, but Remus really was a sucker for them.

Sirius rolled his eyes playfully. “Oh my god Jamie, that’s bad even for you.”

“I thought that was excellent, thank you very much.”

“I’m choosing to ignore you now.” Sirius bantered. “For our technical challenge, our judges would like you to make six individual sticky toffee puddings, judges, have you got anything to say?”

“Be mindful of your vanilla.” Dumbledore warned and Remus bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the ‘advice’. It was always so vague, they might not bother saying anything at all.

“Alright judges, out you go,” James said ushering the pair out the door.. Sirius faced the bakers and grinned.

“On your marks,”

“Get set,”

“Bake!”

Remus turned around to Lily. “Be mindful of your vanilla.” He said in a very serious turn. Lily threw the cloth covering her ingredients at him. All was well.

James swung by Remus’ station a little while later. “How’s it going?”

Remus was just finishing cutting out little circles of parchment paper to line the bottom of the little pots he would bake the puddings in. He had already liberally greased the edges with butter and he just needed to pop the parchment circles in.

“Alright, I haven’t actually done any baking yet.” Remus said laughing. James grabbed the leftover scrap of paper and attempted to make some kind of crown out of it. 

“Here ye, here ye!” Remus joked, noticing half the cameras in the room training on them. 

“I think I should be king of the bake off Remus, what do you think?”

Remus nodded along solemnly/ “Oh yes of course James, your baking skills are incredible.”

“I can bake!” James protested.

“Sure, sure,” Remus teased, beginning to measure ingredients. “But if you’re the king of bake off, who will make all the terrible puns.”

James covered his heart with his hand. “You wound me Remus, truly.”

Remus chucked a date at his head, but James just opened his mouth and caught it.”

Remus burst out laughing. “Okay that was good, you can be the king of bake off now.”

“Why thank you.” James said before heading off to chat to Lily next, still wearing his paper crown. 

Remus turned back to his baking and began mixing ingredients together. He was careful to split the vanilla pod and scrape the seeds into the mix. In the end he was pretty happy with his batter, and poured it carefully into his pots, being careful not to pass the three quarter mark as they would rise in the oven and he didn’t want to have them spill over the edge.

He popped them in the oven and began to start work on the toffee, measuring ingredients as he let the pot heat up. He tossed in the butter and sugar and stirred a little before making a cup of tea. He came back to his toffee-to-be a few minutes later to see he had left it unattended too long and it had all crystallised.

“Fuck!” He said, emptying the contents onto a plate and quickly starting again.

“Oof, they crystallised?” Lily asked, on her tiptoes peering over at Remus’ work.

“Yup. I have just enough time to go again though.”

This time, the devil himself wouldn’t be able to lure Remus away from his bot.

‘A watched pot never boils,’ He thought. “Yeah well a watched pot never burns either.” He muttered, aware that he would probably come across as mildly insane but fuck it.

“Are you talking to yourself?” A lovely lilting voice asked and Remus froze for a moment before continuing to stir.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Sirius asked

“Because I’m an excellent conversationalist.”

Remus knew Sirius would be smiling even if he couldn’t see him. He slowly added the cream into his pot, folding it all in nicely.

“Well I can’t refute that statement.” Sirius agreed and Remus almost wanted to tell him to fuck off because even now Sirius was so lovely and Remus wanted to turn and see his smile, except he knew it wouldn’t be the same. It would be purely for the camera and there would be no little sly glances or secret winks and that gorgeous sparkle in his eye would be gone.

Or was it ever even there in the first place?

Remus took the pot off the heat and let it sit for a moment as he took the puddings out of the oven. He set them all on a cooling rack and turned to start taking them out of the pots when he spotted six identical little parchment paper circles sitting on the counter.

“Oh fuck.” He whispered. He never actually put them in the pots. “Oh Christ. Oh for fucks sake.” He said running his fingers through his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” Lily asked, coming over to him and resting her hand on his shoulder.

“I never put the parchment paper in, they’re going to stick to the pot and be ruined.”

“You greased it though didn’t you? That’ll help a lot, there’s still hope yet.” She leaned in close again and whispered, “And if they go to hell you can bump into Peter when we’re putting them on the table and pretend he knocked them over again.”

Remus chuckled and gave her a quick hug. “Thank you, now go away because we don’t need yours ruined too.”

“They’re not ruined!” Lily yelled back at him and Remus smiled as he dug through his cutlery drawer to find the thinnest knife that he could. Biting his lip in concentration he carefully ran the knife along the inside of the pot to loosen the sides, then he flipped it over quickly and gently eased the pudding out. There was a little bit of the tip missing but - it could easily be covered with the toffee so all in all, Remus was actually quite happy. 

“One down, five to go!” He called to Lilly but also for the benighted of Marlene who was hovering nearby, cameras trained on what Remus was doing. 

The second one came out quite well two and Remus was beginning to feel a spark of hope when the third one completely split in half - the top still in the pot.

“Oh shittttttt.” Remus sang to himself, trying not to worry too much. He just kept going, he could assemble that one later. The following three had the exact same result. Marlene was hovering around him, capturing the tension. Remus looked up and stared right into the lens as if he were on The Office and said “I jinxed myself.”

He managed to coax the top halves out of their containers and gently put them back together again. He drizzled a liberal amount of toffee over the tops before having a moment of inspiration. He grabbed the abandoned crystallised toffee and used it to decorate the tops of the puddings before transferring them all to the rectangular plate he’d be presenting them on, adding a little bit of toffee to the plate to help regain any visual aestheticism. 

“Alright bakers!” Sirius called, “Your time is up. Please walk your cakes up to the table at the front of the tent.”

Lily walked up next to Remus and mimed ‘accidentally’ bumping into Peter and Remus snorted as he set his plate down behind his picture.

“You’re insane,” He whispered to her as they sat down on their stools.

“You love me though.” She quipped back and Remus grinned at her before the judges came out.

“Hello again bakers!” Dumbledore greeted. They chorused back a hello and then the judges set to work. The judges actually cringed when they bit into Peter’s dish and on the other side of Remus, Peter was quivering a little.

“Our tip to be mindful with the vanilla went unnoticed with this one it would seem.” McGonagall commented and Remus had to stop himself from looking at Peter to figure out what the hell he did.

“It would appear this person included their vanilla pod.” Dumbledore said, trying to hide his cringe. “For future reference, it’s the seeds inside the pod you eat, not the outside layer.”

Remus knew Peter’s face was bright red without even looking at him, but he didn’t glance to the side for fear of giving away who had actually made the cakes.

Remus’ were up next, McGonagall looking at them cynically. “The presentation is quite lacking I must admit.”

“Yes, they’re a bit messy,” Dumbledore agreed as he cut into one. They each took a bite, nodding solemnly for a moment. “They certainly taste good though.”

McGonagall nodded in agreement and just like that they had moved on to the next person’s work. Remus let out a deep sigh. It wasn’t how he had wanted it to go but… at least they had tasted good. He was still annoyed at himself for forgetting the parchment paper but he had to let it go now.

The  judges were quick to decide this week. With only five contestants left and a tangible need to make it to the semi finals next week, there was a buzz in the air, at least it felt that way to Remus.

Or, it did feel that way until he came second last in the technical and suddenly he was seriously beginning to fear that this time next week, he’d be at home.

Peter came last. Tonks won; Kingsley and Lily filling in the middle spots.

Remus headed back to the hotel, talking quietly to Lily but really just planning his strategy for tomorrow. Considering his recipe. Mentally changing the flavours, then switching them back. The order he would make everything. If he should just head straight to the practice tent and make it one more time. 

Lily wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned her head against him. Remus used to always look at people walking like this and think it must be so incredibly awkward, but this felt natural.

“It’s better to rest now then practice some more. You’re ready.” She said as if she could read his mind. Maybe after five weeks of being together every day, she could.

He smiled and placed a kiss to the top of her head, loving their friendship. “Thanks Lils.”

She peered up at him, those eyes vibrantly green, hidden slightly under her eyelashes. “Wanna make hot chocolate?”

Remus grinned as he put his arm over her shoulders and gave her a grateful squeeze. “That sounds like heaven.”

The next day began with the sunlight filtering slowly through the open windows as Remus got dressed. It was late enough in the year now that he woke up in darkness, but he always liked getting to watch the sun rise so it didn’t bother him. The air was crisp outside when he walked down with Lily and it felt like a new beginning.

“Let’s do this.” Lily said, holding out her fist as they entered the tent and Remus looked at her in mild amusement, but bumped his knuckles against hers lightly.

They set up their stations quietly, not having much to do, Remus just liked it organised slightly differently to the way the cleaning crew left it. Everyone seeped in quietly, the tension from yesterday lingering. 

Marlene announced their start and suddenly they were off, James and Sirius bantering away with a familiar chemistry rarely found between two presenters.

“Welcome back for the showstopper challenge!” James greeted, Sirius grinning at his side. “Today our judges have asked you to reimagine a dish as a trifle.”

Remus remembered the first time he had heard that and thought it was a little weird, but he liked it. Back then he had planned to have a ‘death by chocolate’ theme but he changed his recipe last week. Lily was making a carrot cake creation that looked amazing. Tonks was wowing with a baked Alaska inspired dish. Peter had embraced chocolate chip cookies and they were featuring heavily in his. Kingsley was doing something with a lot of apples but Remus didn’t know many of the specifics. Kingsley wasn’t secretive, but he wasn’t majorly talkative either.

“You know Sirius, I once fought with a man over his multi layered cake,” James was saying vibrantly.

“Is that so?”

“Indeed. However I soon learned he was not to be trifled with.”

The light went out of Sirius’ eyes. “You’re fired.” He said to James in a deadpan voice and the entire tent burst into giggles.

Sirius sighed and turned to everyone. “On your marks, get set, bake!”

“Hey! We’re supposed to say that together!”

“Yeah well I fired you so it’s mine now.”

Remus couldn’t stop himself from chuckling as he set to work. Was he unsure of what was happening between himself and Sirius? Yes. Did he still have feelings for the man? Undoubtedly. 

He immediately set to work making the meringues, those were gonna be hard to get done in time - they took two hours in the oven and then they had to cool down completely before Remus could do anything with them. He whipped the egg whites and sugar on high speed, until there were ‘stiff peaks’, the mixture was lovely and shiny and Remus felt like he was spooning marshmallow into his piping bag.

He made three circles of meringue, all the same size as his trifle dish along with a few little meringue kisses to decorate the top. He popped the trays into the preheated oven and set to work preparing everything else. He turned around to grab a tea towel and his elbow hit a glass bowl on the counter and it fell to the ground, shattering and leaving sparkling shards all over Remus’ station.

“Crap okay, can I get a brush over here please?”

A crew member helped him sweep it up as quickly as possible so he could get back to work. James sidled up to his counter as he started making a lemon curd, a suspicious grin on his face.

“I see you’re having a smashing time.”

Remus looked up from adding the grated lemon rind. “I thought you were fired.”

James just laughed and ruffled Remus’ hair in a way that if anyone else had done it, it would have annoyed Remus, but it was okay from James.

“I’ll let you get back to work.” And then he was off and Remus could once again focus. He looked down into his pot and nearly started to cry. It had curdled. 

He stepped away for a moment, covering his face with his hands as he took a deep breath. It would be okay, he had time to make more. It just seemed like ever since Sirius had walked away a week ago, nothing had gone quite right.

On Monday, the restaurant made a mistake and gave Remus normal pasta, resulting in him being very sick for a while. On Tuesday, a pair of shoes he had long since worn in gave him blisters. Wednesday had him spilling tea all over his special edition book. Thursday he ripped a hole in his favourite cardigan and Friday Sirius walked into a room, saw Remus and immediately left. Saturday had been the signature and technical challenge and now he was here.

He jolted when a hand gingerly reached out and touched his shoulder. Light as a feather at first, barely the brush of fingertips but then the palm of the hand pressed reassuringly into Remus’ skin.

“Re?” Sirius asked. Remus heart soared and shattered at the same time. How was that even possible? 

“I’m fine it’s just a lot today I think.”

“Do you want to step outside for a few?”

Remus shook his head as he turned to face Sirius. “No it’s okay, thanks. I don’t have enough time.”

Sirius’ eyes were conflicted for a moment but the next thing Remus knew, he was being pulled down into a tight hug.

“Sorry,” Sirius mumbled, “I should have asked first, it’s just you looked so upset and-”

“It’s okay.” Remus whispered, his mouth by Sirius’ ear.

He pulled away reluctantly, wanting to stay in the comfort of Sirius’ arms longer but very aware of all the cameras trained on them.

“Thanks,” He mumbled to Sirius, his face flushed. “I should get back to it.”

Sirius nodded and Remus went back to work, the presenter heading off to chat to someone else. Taking another breath, Remus began grating another lemon. It was time to start again.

Assembling the trifle was possibly Remus’ favourite showstopper to put together so far, just because of how simple it was. He placed a meringue disk at the bottom, followed by lemon curd, then repeated it twice, until his top layer was a bright yellow substance. He grinned looking inside the glass dish - he was really glad he chose to pipe the curd in, it made the lines much cleaner.

He placed the meringue kisses on top, then grated chocolate over everything and he finished just as James called time.

Remus watched the judges fall in love with Tonks’ amazing baked Alaska and beamed at the praise for his friend. Lily did very well too. Kingsley had a few problems but overall he seemed quite happy with his baking. Peter’s was only marginally better. And then it was Remus.

He walked up to the table at the front of the room, suddenly very aware of Sirius standing with James to the side of the judges.

“Remind us of what this is inspired by Mr Lupin?” Dumbledore asked as he and McGonagall took in the trifle.

“Lemon meringue.” Remus said, his chest tight.

Sirius’ looked up sharply, meeting his eyes. Remus nodded minutely.

They each took a helpful and took a moment considering the flavours.

“I’m impressed, Mr Lupin.” Dumbledore said. “I was worried the curd would be too wet and dissolve the meringue.”

McGonagall nodded. “Were you not worried that this might be a little simple for a showstopper?”

Remus shook his head. “A classic is a classic for a reason.”

McGonagall graced him with a very rare smile and for the first time this week, Remus felt like he had done something right.

They all sat on the stools a little while later, waiting and waiting and waiting while the judges took the longest time to decide yet this series. Remus knew it was down to Peter and himself. One of them was going home today. Remus just didn’t know who.

Peter had done a little worse than Remus yesterday, but had recovered a lot today. Remus knew he himself had also gained some ground, he just didn’t know if it was enough. He hoped it was. He feared it wasn’t.

James and Sirius emerged first, the judges next, none of their faces giving anything away.

“Today I have the pleasure of announcing star baker.” James said smiling, “For the second week in a row… Tonks!”

Remus grinned and kissed Tonks on the cheek as she was sitting right next to him. Both because he was proud of her but also to mess with Twitter a little bit.

“Sadly, I have the awful job of announcing who’s going home today.” Sirius said, nothing about him giving anything away. Remus’ heart pounded, he could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips. “This person has been a pleasure to work with and we’ll all be very sad to see them leave.”

Remus found breathing a little difficult. Would Sirius just hurry up and say it?

“Leaving us today will be… Peter.”

Down the line a little, Peter’s shoulders slumped and while Remus was disappointed for him, all he could feel was the adrenaline surge now that all the tension had melted away from his body. They all lingered in the tent for a while, congratulating Tonks and giving Peter their commiserations. 

McGonagall came up to Remus at one point and spoke to him quietly. “Not your best week Mr Lupin.”

Remus shook his head. “No.”

McGonagall met his eyes. “You have amazing potential. I’ve seen you do great things, I hope I get to see them again.” She said before slinking back into the crowd. Remus blinked. It was possibly the most reassuring thing he had ever heard about his baking. He wanted to write her words down so he could keep them forever.

He was staying a little while longer.

Remus went straight to his room when he got back to the hotel, skipping the usual gathering they had after finishing filming that week as he was just exhausted after his day. He threw his clothes over the back of a chair in his room to be put away tomorrow and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, a thick pair of socks on his feet. He turned off the over head light, flicking on his lamp instead and just about to crawl into bed with his book when he heard the faintest knock on his door.

He frowned, a little wondering who it could be. Lily? No, she would be downstairs talking to James. Not Tonks, her knock was loud and vibrant. Peter was packing-

Remus opened the door and there stood Sirius, who’d also changed into cosier clothes, looking almost lost in the depths of his massive jumper. For the first time since Remus had known him, Sirius looked unsure.

“Can I come in?” He asked softly. Remus bit his lip for a moment before nodding and stepping inside. 

Sirius gazed around his room for a moment, snorting at the clothes thrown haphazardly over the chair.

“You didn’t strike me as messy.” He mused.

Remus blushed. “I’m not, I'm just tired.”

Sirius turned around. “I can go?”

“No it’s alright.” Remus had a feeling that if Sirius didn’t say why he came here now, it would be forever forgotten.

Sirius looked at the ground, scuffing his socked toes on the carpet. “Have you ever read about people I date in the tabloids?”

Remus frowned and quickly ran what information about Sirius he knew through his mind. “No? At least, I don’t think so.”

Sirius smiled ruefully. “That’s because I haven’t dated anyone in a long time. Ever really.”

Remus felt his lips part slightly. “Ever?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I mean a little in school but I don’t know if it really counted.” He kept looking at the floor. “I mean, I have flings or whatever but I don’t date. At first I was too preoccupied with building a life away from my family. Then I was so busy, focusing on my career. Then,” His voice grew soft like he was a little embarrassed, “It had been so long I was afraid. I forget sometimes, when I’m with you. But then that day, I remembered.”

Remus didn’t have to ask what day. I remembered. Sirius had said it then too.

And it was so dumb of me but I was afraid of having you.” Sirius finally looked up at Remus. Grey met amber and all was right. “But then today I worried for a moment that I was going to lose you.”

Remus laughed a little wetly. “You make that sound like I nearly died or something.”

“Shut up I’m trying to be romantic!” Sirius protested, but his cheeks were flushed.

“Sorry.” Remus said, but he was smiling faintly. He reached out and brushed Sirius’ fingers with his and Sirius caught his hand and held it.

“But I realised I’m afraid of being with you, but I guess I’m going to have to get used to it, because I’m terrified of being without you.”

Remus swallowed, wetting his lips. “What… Are you.. Wait?”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah.”

A little smile danced on Remus’ lips as he took a step closer and lowered his face down so he could nudge Sirius’ nose with his own. “I guess we can be a little scared together then.”

Sirius’ eyes lit up and Remus was about to kiss him but before he could move, Sirius had surged up and pressed his lips to Remus’.

Remus melted into it, wrapping one arm around Sirius’ waist, the other removing the hair tie from Sirius’ bun to be tossed somewhere that would probably never be found so he could finally tangle his fingers in the inky black strands like he had dreamed about doing so many times.

Sirius kisses were just like his personality. Confident, purposeful, Remus thought as Sirius nipped his bottom lip and Remus opened his mouth for him. Strong. At some point, Remus backed into the bed, his knees giving out so he sat on the edge while Sirius just straddled him, never even breaking away.  The pace was new and thrilling to Remus. A sweet caress of the tongue could lead quickly to a desperate clash of teeth and back again in just a moment. 

“You made lemon meringue.” Sirius murmured against hips lips. Remus grinned and nodded.

“It’s your favourite.”

Sirius pulled away first, his chest heaving and his lips red and swollen, shining from Remus; own saliva. That thought alone had Remus chasing his lips for another taste. Sirius smirked but kissed him sweetly for a minute before pulling away and resting his forehead on Remus’ shoulder. Remus could just see those eyes he loved so much peeking up at him from under his ridiculously long eyelashes.

“So you and me?” Sirius asked. “We’re dating? I didn’t make that up, right?”

Remus beamed and shook his head. “You didn’t make it up.”

“Is it too early to ask to be exclusive? I really have no idea how this works.” Sirius laughed, pressing his face into Remus’ chest. Remus bent so he could nip the curve of his ear gently.

“No,” He murmured, “Well I don’t know how it goes that well either. But it doesn’t feel too early, does it?”

Sirius shook his head before lifting it and coming back to Remus’ level again. “You’re mine.” He breathed, eyes sparkling. He pulled Remus’ bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it gently. “I must be the luckiest person on the planet.”

Remus kissed him softly, pulling him against his chest. “I think that title is reserved for me.”

Sirius hit his shoulder playfully. “Sap.”

“Hey! You started it!”

Sirius giggled and kissed him again, tugging on Remus’ hair a little before pulling away. 

“I want you.” He whispered, “But I’m tired as hell. Wanna, I don’t know, cuddle and shit?”

Remus smirked, patting Sirius’ thigh lightly so they could climb under the covers. 

“Yeah,” He agreed as he pulled Sirius against his chest once more, tangling their legs together. “Let’s cuddle and shit.”

They fell asleep like that, a jumble of limbs tucked under the warm covers, fitting together like they had been made for each other. Remus had one of the best night’s sleep of his life, even missing the sun rising in the morning.

(But somehow, he didn’t mind).

[dindjarindiaries]

Collide - Chapter 5

summary: Bella tries to remember what happened the night before, and fails to seek answers from the one person who knows them.

warnings: vomiting, angst, trauma, sexual talk

rating: R

word count: 3.840k

masterlist

chapter 5

You wake up the next day with nothing but regret—and a hangover from hell.

The good part of your morning is spent hunched over the toilet in your clothes from the night before. Your head feels much too heavy for your body, and you try to clear the fog to figure out how the hell you ended up back home—but you can barely even make a coherent thought. Thankfully, the three of you managed to get today off work as if by a stroke of luck, and so you don’t have to try to suffer your way through a work day in such a horrible state. Once you’re sure you’ve emptied out at least half of your guts and managed to pay for your dumb decisions the night before, you finally stand up and make a bolder attempt to get things straight. You hop in the shower, hoping the water will also wash your mind clean, but only get part of the way there by the time you’re slipping into your most comfortable clothes.

It’s when you’re making your light breakfast of toast that it starts coming back to you. You’re sipping gingerly at the water in your glass when you remember the same glass sitting on your bedside table this morning. You have no idea how it got there, or who could’ve put it there, but you assume it was by whoever managed to get you home. The last thing you can remember is dancing with Connie, and even that’s a little fuzzy. But the rest isn’t. You wish it was, because all your mind decides to remind you of is the way Javier was dancing with that stranger.

She’s probably in his bed right now, you think, scoffing to yourself as you take another sip of water. You try not to empty your stomach once again at the utter thought of it.

The sound of your toast popping up scares you out of your thoughts, causing you to jump a bit as you turn around. You chuckle at yourself and shake your head as you lightly butter it and start to chew on it, not necessarily wanting to do so but also knowing you need to get something in your stomach. It’s starting to drive you more and more insane that you don’t know how you got home. You assume it was Connie with the assistance of Steve, since Javier was too wrapped up in his conquest of the night, but you agonize yourself at the thought of what you could’ve said along the way. You never get drunk—it messes with your ability to control yourself and the situations you’re put in—so you’re fearful you let something risky slip while you were blacked out.

Knowing you can’t wait any longer for confirmation, you finish your toast quickly and reach for your pair of sunglasses, using them to try to ease your headache as you leave your apartment. You choose to ignore the fact that you’re solely in a pair of athletic shorts and an oversized college t-shirt as you make your way up the stairs, knocking at Steve and Connie’s door before you can convince yourself to leave them alone.

Connie’s thankfully the one who answers, her eyes widening as she sees you. “You’re alive!” she exclaims jokingly, causing you to laugh lightly. “But I can tell it’s a miracle.”

“Yeah, you can say that again,” you mutter, thanking her as she lets you into the apartment. You look around, furrowing your brow when you don’t see your partner. “Is Steve here?”

“No, he’s runnin’ errands with Olivia right now,” Connie informs you. “He was beggin’ to get out of the apartment for somethin’ other than work.” You nod understandingly, sitting at the counter as Connie raises an eyebrow. “Did you need him?”

“Oh, no, not really,” you assure her. You clear your throat, swallowing your pride as you accept the glass of water she’s poured for you. “I just, well, I need someone to fill me in.”

Connie tilts her head at you. “Fill you in?”

You bite your lip, running one hand over your neck in your nervous manner as your other hand grips the glass of water. “I… don’t remember anything after we danced.”

Connie’s gaze flashes with understanding. “Oh, I see.” She giggles to herself, taking a sip of her coffee as she gives you an impressed expression. “You surprised me with that, I can’t lie. I didn’t take you for the type.”

You exhale deeply as you release your neck and the glass, dipping your fingers under your sunglasses as you run your hands over your face. “I’m not. Last night was a rare occasion.” You reopen your eyes to see Connie’s expression morph into something more of sympathy.

“Already feelin’ the toll of work?”

You scoff. “That’s one way to put it.” You pause, studying Connie from behind your sunglasses for a quick moment as you ponder going on. She’s already become quite the confidante for you during your first week, and you know she doesn’t have anyone else to tell about your troubles—aside from Steve. But you feel that if you make it obvious you don’t want him to know, she won’t tell. So, with a deep breath, you decide to push forward. “It was because of my partner.”

Connie’s brow furrows. “I’m gonna assume you don’t mean my husband.”

“That’s a correct assumption.”

“So, Javi, then?” When you nod, Connie’s gaze flashes with remembrance—and a look of panic that you don’t necessarily like. The latter reaction, however, disappears quickly, and you choose to ignore it as she goes on. “Oh, yeah, I saw him, too. But that’s not out of the ordinary. Must’ve been weird for you, though.”

You shake your head, taking a sip of your water as you prepare yourself to fill her in. “Connie, it wasn’t just ‘weird.’ It was… well, heartbreaking.” When Connie gives you a look of confusion, you continue elaborating. “There’s a part of my and Javi’s story that you haven’t heard yet. But, please, don’t tell anyone.”

Connie lifts her hands in mock surrender. “I’ve got no one to tell but a man who probably won’t care to hear it, girl. Go for it.”

You snort at her comment, clearing your throat before speaking again. “Javi and I were best friends growing up, just like I told you. When high school came around, though, everything changed for me. I realized that I felt—well, much different than I did before. It was tormenting, really, to see him go through other relationships and also suffer through some of my own, knowing where my heart truly was. And then… senior prom rolled around.” You pause, feeling your chest get heavy as you recount the night that used to be so perfect to you—and now is so tainted. “We went together. As friends—I thought. And then we danced together, and we kissed, and we started acting like a couple, and then we… you know…”

Connie covers her hand with her mouth to suppress a gasp. You give her a knowing nod.

“I thought we’d be together after that. But Javi pretended that nothing ever happened, and I played along until just before he left for college. Our confrontation didn’t go as well as expected, and that’s the last time I saw him until a week ago.” You bite your lip for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts and emotions. “No matter how many years passed by, though, my heart stayed with him. I fuckin’ hate the fact that I can’t get rid of him. And now, having him back in my life, but having to see what I saw last night…” You trail off, shaking your head as Connie gives you a sympathetic look.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” You smile a bit when Connie reaches a hand over to grab one of yours. “That’s real tough. I had no idea you two were that close.”

“I tried not to make it obvious,” you confess with a curt chuckle.

“Well… that explains a lot of the reason why Steve kept sensin’ tension.” Connie lets out a deep breath, and her eyes suddenly widen as she releases your hand. You feel alert at her change in demeanor, and you almost start to question it until she tells you herself. “Oh shit, girl, I hope you’re not a chatty drunk.”

You furrow your brow. “Why?”

Connie swallows hard. “Javi’s the one who took you home last night.”

Your heart practically leaps into your throat upon hearing her words. Javi? you ask yourself. But I thought he was with the woman. Why wouldn’t he have brought her home? “Really?”

Connie nods. “Steve asked him to, because we thought out of the three of us, he’d know the best way to take care of you. But if you got drunk because of him, and then you were talkin’ when you were with him and let it slip, I…” Connie trails off, and she doesn’t have to say anything else. Your fears are now laid out on the table.

“Fuck,” you curse, gripping your hair in your hands as you lean your elbows against the counter. “Oh my fuck, Connie, what if I said some dumb shit? We just came to a kind of truce and made it through the week, and what if I messed it up?”

“I’m sure it’s fine, sweetheart. We’re probably just stressin’ for no reason. You seemed pretty far gone when you left me.”

You shake your head, knowing all the frustrations that lay deep within your chest and would gladly jump out at Javier if you had the chance or the confidence. You don’t get drunk often—at all—but you do know that your confidence while drunk skyrockets, which means you might’ve actually had the balls to say something potentially damaging to Javier.

Before you have a chance to respond to her words of comfort, a knocking suddenly sounds at the front door. Connie excuses herself as she disappears into the hallway, and you listen as she pauses to look through the peephole and then unlocks the door. The voice that reverberates off the walls hits you directly in your chest, and you soon find yourself practically stumbling out of your chair as you dare to approach them.

“… seen her?” you pick up part of Javier’s extremely panicked words. “She’s not in her apartment, and I know that in her state, she wouldn’t have been able to get far—.” Javier stops when he looks beyond Connie to see you as you finally pop into the hallway. You try to still your heart as it thuds against your chest upon seeing his expression of pure worry—for you. He’s still in an outfit he would typically wear to work, and you would wonder if he ever wore anything else at all if you weren’t so wrapped up in the fact that he’s pursuing you. “Bella,” Javier finally breaks the tense silence, his voice sounding like a gasp of relief. “I… you scared me, there.”

“Sorry,” you manage to say meekly in response. “Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

Another silence persists, and this time it’s only broken by Connie as she clears her throat and gestures back towards the kitchen. “Do you want to come in for a drink or something, Javi? Steve’s out right now, but he should be back soon.”

You never break your gaze with Javier, trying to convince him to come in so you can clear your conscience about the night before with him. But all you see in his gaze is a flash of further fear, regret, and pain, and you know he’s not going to stay. On top of that, you know you must’ve said something utterly terrible to him last night, because the only other time you’ve seen his eyes flash like that is when you told him you never wanted to see him again. “I’m alright,” Javier finally dismisses Connie’s offer in his usual gruff voice. “I’ve got some errands to run. But thanks, anyway.” Connie nods, and Javier gives you a curt nod as well. “I’m glad you’re okay, bella.” With that, he turns away to leave.

Before he can go too far, you hurry over to the door, stepping outside to call to Javier where he’s descending the stairs. “Javi!” you exclaim, and he turns around quickly to face you. Your stomach sinks at the way his gaze practically begs you to let him go. “Thank you. For taking care of me last night.”

Javier simply gives you another nod, turning back around to finish going down the stairs. You try to swallow the lump in your throat as you retreat into Connie’s apartment, practically falling against the counter dramatically when you get there. Connie follows you with a grimace.

“Shit!” you curse angrily, feeling Connie place a comforting hand on your shoulder. You meet her gaze to find her sympathy, and you let out a heavy sigh as you shake your head at her. “I know I said something bad. I could see it written all over him.” You bite your lip, not wanting to dwell on the dark thought you’re conceiving of but having to face the reality of it. “If I didn’t ruin things all those years ago, then I definitely managed to do it, now—after only a week.”

Connie shakes her head as she invites you to sit back down, instead changing the subject as she tries her best to get your mind off things. But it’s too late—you’re already sinking into the black hole you’ve created for yourself. You’d broken things before you even had a chance to fix them, and that’s something you’re not sure you can ever forgive yourself for.

Later that night, you’re going onto your countless hour of despaired solitude, only able to sit on your couch and stare endlessly into the television screen as your mind continues to torment you. You’re still not sure what you said to Javier that made him feel so hurt and afraid. There are too many possibilities, and you don’t want to start considering which one you went for. Each one you manage to think of brings a sharp pain to your chest, so you decide to keep burying them deep inside and hope that he’s just gotten upset over something trivial.

Your thinking’s interrupted by the sound of clattering coming from the hallway. Immediately, you reach for the remote and turn off the television, freezing in place as you tune your ears into whatever could be going down. When you hear more chaos, you practically leap off the couch and hurry to your peephole, looking through to see if you can get a view of what’s going on. Your stomach twists into terrible knots when you finally observe the scene. All it takes is seeing an unfamiliar woman walk through the door of Javier’s apartment for you to understand what’s happening—and hope you don’t have to hear it, like Steve once said you might.

But you don’t even have to hear anything for the memories to start back up like clockwork, ticking to the sounds of the flashback you can never get out of your head.

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?”

You shake your head, closing your eyes as you lean your back against the door. You’re trying to shake it from your head, but you can’t—especially as you further picture what could be happening right down the hall.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life, cariño.”

I should’ve said no, you lament to yourself. I should’ve fucking said no. You manage to make it over to your couch again, resting your elbows on your knees as you let your face fall into your hands. Your heart is screaming at you to remember anything, literally fucking anything, other than what your mind’s choosing to right now, but it’s got a chokehold on you. Now that you’re aware of what Javier’s up to, you can only picture that moment when you were in the same position.

“You’re doing amazing, bella. Fuck—you’re doing so good.”

You can hear his voice so clearly in your head. Still trying to be mindful of the migraine that’d radiated through your head for most of the day but needing to force something out of it, you take your hair in your fists and give it a firm tug.

“Eres mi princesa, bella—siempre. Good girl—God, you’re so beautiful. You always have been.”

They were lies! you want to scream aloud. They were all fucking lies! The way he’d comforted you, made you feel so special, and even murmured a forever—it was all bullshit. You know he’s probably saying the same exact things to the woman you’ve just seen.

“Javi… cariño… I—fuck—I—.”

“Shhh, I know, bella. I know, mi amor.”

Thank God he hadn’t let you say it. But having the audacity to follow it up with those promising words of mi amor makes you want to punch the wall. Upon hearing that for the first time, you truly thought everything was going to change—and instead, you’re here many years later, knowing he’s calling a stranger the same thing just a few feet away down the hall.

The voices have just started to fade into the feeling of your skin burning underneath his tender touch when another commotion outside your door interrupts you. Thankful for the distraction from your torment, you hop up from the couch and head for the peephole—already hearing a female yelling something in Spanish. Sure enough, when you look outside, you see the same woman from before storming out of Javier’s apartment and heading for the door to the outside. You raise an eyebrow, wondering how such a sudden turnaround could’ve happened.

You release a breath you never realized you were holding, glad that the memory’s starting to fade away as you head for the couch again. You stop, however, when you hear a hesitant knocking at your door. A pit forms in your stomach, and you turn around slowly to face the door yet again. You’re pretty certain of who’s standing there, and you’re not sure you’re ready to face them after the chaos they just unleashed on your mind. As soon as you open the door, however, you’re at their mercy—feeling your heart sink at the sight of their dark gaze brimming with unshed tears.

“Cariño,” you whisper, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. You attempt to push past the fact that half his shirt’s unbuttoned, his lips are more swollen than usual, and his hair’s in quite a disarray, solely wanting to make him feel at ease. “What’s wrong?”

Javier shakes his head, biting his lip to keep himself from releasing the tears that still fill his eyes. You let out a soft breath and gesture towards the couch, seeing him head towards it with relief as you close the door behind him. You sit beside him gingerly, your gaze never leaving him. He’s leaning his elbows on his knees as his clasped hands rest over his mouth, his eyes looking endlessly into your coffee table. No matter how painful your latest memories of him have been, or how afraid you are of whatever you said to him last night, it absolutely devastates you to see him like this—so you let your hand fall on his back as your thumb rubs soothing circles over it.

“How can I help you, Javi?”

Javier blinks once, his gaze never moving as he finally rests his hands below his chin and offers an answer. “You can’t.” His gruff voice is broken, and the sound of it makes your heart absolutely shatter.

“Why not?” You keep your question gentle, to avoid provoking him by mistake.

“Because.” Javier pauses, taking a shaky breath before he finally looks over at you. The same fear, pain, and regret from earlier is in his gaze, and you wish you could just make it all disappear. “I don’t deserve it.”

You grimace, your hand slowly falling from his back. “Javi—.”

“I brought a woman in,” Javier cuts you off, clenching his jaw as he stares at something beyond you, “wanting to use her like I always do. To forget shit. To avoid it. But this time, fuck, all I could remember was you saying that I made you feel like a whore that one night, and I… I couldn’t help thinking, what if I make all of them feel like that? Because it seems I’ve sure as fuck made myself out to be just that.”

Your whole body goes cold, and you can barely speak around the lump in your throat as you dare to respond. “When did I say that?”

Javier’s gaze returns to yours, and you can see the horror he feels upon hearing your words. “Last night,” he breathes. “You don’t remember that?”

You shake your head. “I don’t remember anything after dancing at the bar, Javi.”

Javier looks away from you. “Fuck,” he curses to himself. “Fuck.”

You start to panic, realizing that this is the thing you’ve been dreading all day. “Look, Javi, I was drunk, and you know I don’t get drunk often. I probably didn’t even know what I was saying.”

“That was some pretty deep bullshit to have made up on the spot, bella.” Javier’s gaze snaps back to you, and those same three emotions are present in his eyes. “You don’t need to lie to me. I heard all your pain myself.” Upon saying that, you see his eyes widen slightly, and he stands up from the couch in a rush. You rise after him, watching as he rubs his hands on his thighs nervously and looks towards the door. “I don’t know why I came, I—I shouldn’t have come.” He looks at you quickly, averting your gaze as he gives you a nod. “Sorry.” Javier then takes off for your door, leaving you in a daze as you try to follow him.

“Wait, cariño!” you exclaim, trying to keep him from fleeing. He’s fast, however, and you only have time to get to your door when you see him walking back into his apartment and no doubt locking the door behind him. “Shit.” You slam your door closed and rest your forehead against it, closing your eyes and chewing your lip as you try to bury the sudden pain and confusion that’s rushed on like a wave.

You’re confident that you’ve managed to ruin your attempt at a second chance with Javier before you could even try to start it—and, in the process, contributed to the further damaging of his self-image. So much for leaving the shitshow in Texas.

chapter 6

translations:

Eres mi princesa, bella—siempre = You’re my princess, beautiful, forever

tags: @tarrevizslas @none-of-your-bullshit @lavenderl3mons @gooddaykate @flower-petal-blooming @stilllivindue2spite @mrsparknuts @fionnthebandersnacc @pisss-offf-ghostt @gaydreamland @longitud-de-onda @literallytrashhhhhh @kkgraham @arrowswithwifi @rage-isaquietthing @awesomefandomsunited @theforceofdarkandlight @murdermewithbooks @blushingwueen @rachelloveseveryone @madadlorian @ah-callie @mrsdaamneron @lokiaddicted @arcadianempress @benakenalove @wickedfrsgrl @pascalisperfect @absurdthirst @weirdowithnobeardo @lcandothisallday @sailorflowermoon @engineeredfiction @souls-rain @kaylaylaylayla @cailoleaf @unintentionalwriter @earthtokace @starwarsiscooliguess @xxlovingfandomsxx @theindiealto @mikahid @hiscyarika @burningsoulbloodyheart @youhavereachedtheendofpie @synystersilenceinblacknwhite

[ymiwritesstuff]

how abouuut a revali x reader where he’s in love with her and he keeps on trying to confess but the other champions keep on interrupting him (maybe even on purpose because it’s funny lol) and you can decide how he ends up finally telling her :-) thank you so much!

AWWW poor Vali he’s such a precious boi. Thanks for the request and I hope you enjoy!!

No More Interruptions

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild

Revali x Reader

Summary: Despite the appreciation Revali should hold for the other Champions, their devious actions as of late have made him more than irritated.

The Champions were mighty warriors respected by almost everyone. Their skills far exceeded that of a normal Hyrulean’s and it was clear as day why each champion was chosen to pilot their Divine Beast. They paid each other great respect whilst serving under the rule of the Princess. However lately the Rito Champion has lost almost all respect for the other champions, due to a quite simple yet highly irritating reason. While it was hard to believe that Revali held any respect for anyone but himself, he did respect strong individuals with great power. Excluding a certain blond Hylian of course. This respect he held had lately been crumbling thanks to the other champion’s childish actions.

Revali couldn’t understand how in the world had they caught glimpses of his feelings towards you. He could’ve sworn he had never shown any clear signs when around them and yet they still somehow managed to gain knowledge of his emotions. This wouldn’t be a problem otherwise but what irritated Revali the most was the fact that every time he wished to confess, one or even all of the champions “conveniently” happened to stumble upon him and start a conversation about something utterly useless. This forced him to withdraw his attempt to reveal his feelings and always left a bad, bitter taste on his tongue. Revali’s sharp eyes always noticed the glint of mischievousness in Daruk’s eyes or the obvious smirk on Urbosa’s lips, indicating that it was all intentional and done to purely annoy him.

Your stretch your arms after yet another tiring meeting with the Champions at the castle. These meetings weren’t anything too special as they only involved discussions about Calamity Ganon, Divine Beasts and whatnot. Regardless you always attended them as it improved your knowledge and allowed you to be helpful in a way. The soon setting Sun hit your eyes as you exited the castle, beginning your departure much earlier than the rest. The others stayed behind for a moment, most likely talking with the Princess about topics related to their duties or Divine Beasts. You had no need to discuss such topics so you were already leaving.

“Well aren’t you in a hurry” The familiar voice of Revali causes you to turn around and face the much taller Rito. His wings are crossed and his face his neutral, although for some reason his eyes move to look at the surroundings in a sudden matter, as if he’s looking for someone following him. “And what about you then? I was under the impression that you wanted to discuss important matters with her highness” A short chuckle leaves his beak and he rolls his green eyes somewhat mockingly. Perhaps now was the time. “While it is true I have some important matters to discuss, they’re not to be discussed with the Princess” You raise a curious brow at his question, crossing your arms, intrigued to know more. 

“Oh? Who might it be then?” You notice Revali taking a few steps closer to you, eyes locked on your form. This seemed familiar as you realize that he has indeed tried to talk to you about something lately, always being rudely interrupted. You hadn’t thought much of it but now that you are aware of the clear importance of whatever he’s going to say, you have to hear it. He goes to open his beak but is cut off by another voice.

“Revali! I need to talk with you” Behind him you could see Urbosa with Daruk and Mipha. She waved her hand and held a smile across her lips that had small bits of maliciousness almost being mocking in nature. Revali’s face quickly twisted in anger and before the Gerudo woman had time to say anything, the Rito practically blew up. “No, Urbosa you don’t. If you did, you’d be kind enough to wait for me to finish my business with (Name) here, and not barge in and force yourself to our conversation like a total idiot! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have things to take care of!” Nobody had time to say anything else as Revali quickly took off to the sky, flying towards his village. His sudden rage surprised you as you had never seen him like that and frankly, no one dared to talk back to Urbosa. 

You glance at the Gerudo with narrow eyes as you wondered why on earth was she like that. “Urbosa, care to explain what’s going on?” Urbosa merely chuckled at your question. “Perhaps he can give you the answer” She pointed at Revali whose flying form was getting farther and farther away. You sigh in slight frustration at the thought of walking all the way to Rito Village just to talk with the champion.

~

Revali’s enraged state was enough to drive everyone away from his landing, leaving the Rito by himself. Night had already fallen and most of the residents had gone to sleep anyway, which Revali didn’t mind as he really needed this moment by himself. How could he ever confess his love for you if the people around him didn’t allow it? His feelings were eating him from the inside and he only wished to let them out. 

“Have you finally calmed down?” The sound of your voice drags him out of the deep thoughts of his mind and causes him to turn his head towards you. There you were, standing at the entrance to his landing with no one else at your side. “You had something you wished to tell me, correct?” You notice Revali glancing behind you, seemingly suspicious about you being alone. You let out a deep sigh. “I’m alone. There will be no interruptions. Promise”, you calmly explain and hear him sigh. He walks to you, and prepares himself for the confession.

However it seems to be a lot more difficult than he had thought. Having the chance to finally reveal his feelings was amazing yet in the moment he can’t seem to get a single word out of his beak. “Well.. I must say that this moment is quite special and you should be honored by what I am about to say next” You stay quiet, patiently waiting for him to continue. You notice his eyes averting your gaze, his feathers puffing up a tiny bit. The vulnerability he radiated was certainly odd and yet, you found it delightful. “I enjoy your.. Company. Quite a lot. You’re intelligent, kindhearted and possess a rather great amount of skill in combat” Upon hearing his words of appreciation you feel the heat rush to your cheeks, dusting them with a red shade. Revali confidently takes your hands in his warm wings and keeps his gaze on you. “I have deep feelings for you (Name). And I... I love you” The words leave his beak faster than he can think.

You don’t seem to find the right words to respond to his confession. Your cheeks are flushed, your heart is racing and your mind is filled with similar feelings of affection. Before Revali can question your silence you let out a big laugh and lean to hug him lovingly. “This is what you’ve been trying to tell me? No wonder you got so mad earlier” Your words cause him to puff up even more due to embarrassment, but he hugs you back regardless. The feeling of you being so close to him was something he had been waiting for a long time and now it was finally a reality. No more interruptions. Revali had finally told you about his feelings and was more than happy to find out that you feel the same.

[tinydragonstories]

Heat vs Steele Pt 4

Masterpost

“I have aquired flowers to apologize for my actions in the library. I hope you accept these as a token of my affections and deepest apologies.” Bluebells were lifted above Roman’s head as the prince kneels at Logan’s feet,” I noticed you seem to like blue, so I went to find the bluest flowers I could pick for you!”

“Roman, -Virgil stop growling at him- I accept your apology, however I ask that you give these to maidens in the town as I am mildly allergic to their pollen.” Logan gently pushes down the flowers and watches Roman lift his head, locking eyes with him.

The prince grins and nods eagerly,” of course! I will return to your side as quickly as I can, mi amour!”

Logan nods,” then you are free to go.”

Roman races off with the flowers, practically skipping, and Logan chuckles in light amusement.

“You never told me you were allergic to bluebells.” Virgil looks up at him suspiciously and Logan shrugs.

“I must have developed it rather recently then.”

Virgil laughs and shakes his head,” if you wanted him gone, you could’ve just said so. No need to get his hopes up with this.”

“Now, I never said that I wanted him to leave quite yet. I’m rather starting to enjoy this game of chess he’s started. He’s not entirely bad at it either, quite the opponent.”

“Logan, was that your way of saying you’re interested?” Virgil stifles a chuckle as the prince sputters in indignation.

“Absolutely not! What ever gave you that idea?!”

“Okay, Logan, calm down. I was just teasing! Let’s go see your father, I believe he’s looking for you.”

Logan’s fire calms down and he leads Virgil away to the throne room, his guard jabbing at the metaphorical buttons that he knew Logan would react to. The guards allowed them through the doors and Logan kneels at the King’s feet,” yes, father, what did you need me for?”

“Logan, I can see that this is taking much too long. Tell me, how much do you know about Prince Roman?”

Logan narrows his eyes suspiciously,” not much, admittedly, except that he’s a major flirt.”

‘And a massive thorn in my side’

“Ah, so I was correct. We will need to speed this courting up so I will be hosting a kingdom-wide ball for you two. The nobles and fellow royalty will be attending so you’ll be attending to their children.”

“Must I, father? You know how I hate their ideas of small talk.”

“Yes, Logan, and you will be wearing the suit that the tailor makes. I’m thinking red on white with a black embellishment.” He looks Logan over and holds his hand up to silence his protests,” I’ve been lenient enough with you, this ball is a chance for you to build relations with the other kingdoms despite your current hold over them all. Yes, they currently owe Elmaria a debt from the winter, but that could change with a flip of Fate’s coin. Your best bet is to build strong relations with other countries so you have aid if the kingdom needs it.” No

“I understand, but as you know, I am inadequate when it comes to social situations. I am severely behind the others when it comes to the social aspect of ruling.” Logan stands and brushes himself off.

“That’s why I allowed Roman to court you. For where you are weak, he is strong. He is incredible at social events and loves the spotlight whereas you tend to be more of a background, technical character. The matchup is perfect!”

“Father, he is also quite annoying. He has not left my side since last night and is most likely waiting outside this room for me.”

“So you feel because of him?” The king smirks and Logan quickly corrects himself.

“I never said that. He merely makes it difficult to accomplish my allotted duties and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Alright, whatever you say, son. You’re dismissed.”

Logan bows once more and walks back before leaving the room, the oaken doors closing behind him. The king smiles softly and shakes his head,” that boy…”

Logan sighs softly once the doors shut behind him and looks up at the prince standing there waiting for him,” Roman, I see you’ve returned.”

“I could not keep myself from your side for much longer, my dear. Come, allow me to make up for the loss of time.” He takes Logan’s hand and barely manages to press a kiss to the back of it before it’s ripped from his grasp. Logan holds it behind his back and sighs through his nose,” I suppose we should make it seem like we tolerate each other’s presence. Where would you like to go? We have the gardens, the castle, the forest, plains, and-”

“Mi amour, I only wish to stay by your side.” Roman smiles tenderly at him and Logan rolls his eyes.

”Alright, I get it,” Roman chuckles,” how about we go horseback riding in the forest? Perhaps we will stumble upon an adventure and fall in love along the journey!”

“The likelihood of that occurring is too low to consider, but fine. We will go horseback riding and plan something else for this afternoon.” Logan walks with Roman back to the guest’s suite and bids him farewell for the moment before returning to his chambers.

“How’d it go with princey?”

Logan jumps at the voice behind him before relaxing,” Virgil, why do you insist on scaring me every time I enter this room? Anyway, it went alright. He apologized and insisted we go horseback riding in the forest. You-”

“Will be coming along,” Virgil gives him a look of respected hostility and Logan chuckles a breathy laugh.

“Of course, I would not be able to attend without you at my side.” He stands still as Virgil unties the ribbons and removes his corset to allow Logan to breathe. His servant rushes around to gather his riding clothes as Logan undresses himself and lays out his previous outfit on the bed. Virgil returns to his side and helps dress the prince for his ride in a white tunic, tan riding pants, a blue vest and a generic brown cloak. Logan sits and starts tying his boots as Virgil switches his own outfit out for a dark aesthetic and a black mask that covers his lower face.

“Virgil, I don’t really think this is necessary. You’ll overheat and we’ll have to return early.”

The guard thinks for a moment and takes off his dark coat.

“I assume that’s the best answer I’ll receive. Come, let’s collect Roman.” Logan leads Virgil out the door and down the hall a bit to the guest suites where Roman was waiting for them outside his room with Patton by his side. They exchange cordial greetings and Roman kisses Logan’s hand again before the (barely) taller of the two leads them all to the stables, his answers to Roman’s prodding statements quick and to the point.

“My dear, where are we going?”

“Simply down a path my family enjoys taking when we need a moment to think. It’s nothing special, really. Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering if it was necessary for our servants to come along. I was originally going to have Patton remain behind but asked him to come along when I saw yours coming.” Logan notices his eyes flick nervously to Virgil, who’s listening to Patton, but clearly keeping an eye on the two royals.

“Virgil’s presence is always required when I leave the castle, however Patton’s is not if you wish to allow him to remain behind.”

Roman looks back at the servant and quietly asks what he’d like to do. Virgil and Roman switch places unintentionally and the guard looks up at his charge,” what’s our pathing for this ride?”

“Just a quick trot down the normal path -you should know it well enough by now- and we’ll turn around before we reach the old castle. The first one that the royal family built after staking their claim on the land.”

Virgil nods and is silent for a moment,” you aren’t afraid he’ll find, you know, your place?”

“Virgil, how likely is it that you’re going to allow us anywhere near those old ruins? We’ll be perfectly safe and he won’t see anything of importance. Besides, it’s in the tower and he’ll clearly see that it’s unsafe to proceed across the drawbridge.”

“Drawbridge? My love, are we going to see your country’s first castle?!” Roman beams and looks at Logan with hopeful, bright eyes.

“Yes, you know of it?” He looks over at the other in curiosity,” I was not aware others knew of it.”

“Of course I know of it! I studied your country’s history so I could have something to discuss with you if we needed a topic. Besides, it’s such a rich, passionate history, it was more like reading a fairytale! The castle was known as the world’s most impenetrable fortress as every attack was absorbed and returned tenfold by the ballistas and archers hidden behind the trapdoors that protected them from any incoming fire. The moat used to be filled with seawater and your ancestors made a pact with the merpeople that allowed them to swim in the moat to defend against any foot soldiers in exchange for land materials they wouldn’t otherwise be able to access. It’s said that one day the child of the Lightheart family will return and bring forth a power hidden inside its walls so powerful, it can raze an entire country!”

Logan and Virgil share a worried glance before turning their attention back to Roman,” I see you’ve done your research. Yes, we are visiting that very castle, however we will not be able to cross the moat. The drawbridge is raised and it isn’t safe to cross the waters after the merpeople went back to the sea.”

“I see, then we must at least explore the surrounding land! Perhaps there are secret passageways leading to the interior that were never discovered!” Roman tugs Logan along down the hall faster and their servants had to run to keep up.

Masterpost

Logan’s hand went to his circlet to ensure it remained where it was and trips over his own feet trying to keep up with the enthusiastic prince. They slow down once they reach the stables and a stable hand brings the two horses out to the princes while another brings two others for Virgil and Patton. Logan’s was black and had a crescent moon between her eyes while Roman’s was pure white. Virgil’s dapple grey mare nips at Patton’s crème steed. Each rider takes the reins of their mount and swings up into the saddle. Roman practically bouncing in the saddle at the prospect of their destination. Logan ensures everyone is situated before clicking his tongue and riding out the gates with his small group behind him.

[bluejayblueskies]

closing circles, shutting doors

Part 31 of Whumptober 2020

Fandom: The Magnus Archives Characters: Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood, Annabelle Cane Tags: Whump, Angst, Major Character Death, Bittersweet Ending, Manipulation

Read on Ao3

“Jon, no.”

 Jon looks pointedly at the collapsed stone that had once been the Panopticon; deep, buried beneath layers of rock and shattered glass, lies a man who had been far, far too easy to kill. “Martin, we don’t really have many other options at the moment.”

 Martin doesn’t look impressed. “Can’t you just- just know our path? You were able to get us here just fine.”

 “Because we had a goal, a- a direction. Now…” Jon tries to Know—what they need to do to fix the world, what domains they’ll have to cross, what burdens they’ll have to bear. The Eye looks back, and gives him nothing in return. Perhaps it isn’t keen to relinquish a world built for its benefit and remade in its name. Or perhaps it, too, simply does not know how to cause its own demise. “… I- I can’t Know where to go if we don’t have a destination.”

 “Perhaps then you would be keen to hear what I have to offer,” Annabelle says benignly, the webs laced over one side of her head just visible beneath the brim of a deep purple cloche hat with a tiny woven spider on the side. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to simply… wander.”

 Martin’s glare could freeze the ocean. “Don’t pretend like you actually want to help.”

 “I am not pretending.” Annabelle’s light smile morphs into mild annoyance. “If I wanted to hurt you, I could have done it in Salesa’s little oasis when you were cut off from your patron. Believe me when I say that there is only one way that this story ends, and it is with my help.”

 “Martin,” Jon says, with no small amount of reluctance, “I believe her.”

 Martin’s mouth opens, clearly ready to fire off another protest, but then he meets Jon’s eyes and apparently sees something genuine in them because he pauses and, slowly, begrudgingly, says, “Fine. Fine, let’s- let’s just get on with it then. The sooner we do this, the sooner the world goes back to normal.”

 Annabelle smiles tightly, with no remaining humor. “Excellent. Then follow me.”

.

There isn’t a basement at Hilltop Road anymore—not really. Now, there’s just the crack—that tear in reality, one that itches at the back of Jon’s mind as he stands just at the edge of it, staring in with eyes that search the darkness for any semblance of order and Eyes that cannot see past a world that they have claimed as their own.

 “Careful,” Annabelle says, her voice smooth and controlled and just a bit teasing. “Get too close, and you’ll fall in.”

 “Isn’t that rather the point?” Jon says quietly, not looking away from the yawning pit of unknown quantities in front of him. He feels that tug, one he hasn’t felt in so, so long. To learn. To know. To take a mystery in front of him apart bit by bit, removing what has been hidden and laying it bare.

 It’s been such a long time since he’s been able to be so purely, deeply curious. And he’s missed it like a drowning man misses air.

 “Quite,” Annabelle says with a smile that feels the opposite of friendly. “But there are so many paths to take—would you know which to choose, Archivist? Which threads to pull?”

 “And you would?” Martin says. He’s stood further back than Jon, halfway back up the stairs to the main part of the house; his face is shadowed, but Jon can still see the sour expression on it.

 “Yes. That is what I specialize in, after all. And this is still quite a significant place of power for the Mother of Puppets, despite the… influence of other forces. Though, we’re not so different, are we, Jon? A Spider has so many eyes, after all. So many events, so many paths, so many different ways to traverse a web—and only one Eye. Choose one route and you can see everything, yes, but choose the wrong one?”

 Annabelle snaps her fingers, a crisp sound that echoes through the basement for far longer than it should. “So, will you follow the path I choose for you, Jon? Or will you choose your own and hope it doesn’t condemn you?”

 Martin’s mouth is pressed in a flat, nervous line. “Jon, you can’t possibly be considering going through with this. It- it’s the Web, for Christ’s sake. Jon?”

 Jon’s still looking down, and down, and down. He thinks… he thinks there’s something there, just out of sight. And he so, so desperately wants to see. “I… I have made so many choices,” he says slowly, not taking his eyes away from the swirling depths below. “Some made in ignorance, some in fear, and some… some in anger. But none of them mattered, in the end.” He blinks, and he sees Tim, eyes ablaze with determination born of pain and loss as he holds a detonator aloft amidst glitching colors and nameless things of skin and wood. He sees Sasha—or, rather, the thing that had consumed and replaced her, leaving him with only false memories and a deep, itching paranoia. He sees Daisy, lost to that which she tried so desperately to resist, and Basira, left with nothing else to do but fulfill a final promise. And it aches, to think of loss, and to suffer the guilt that accompanies it even now, when he’s finally admitted to himself that choice is not so important as consequence. So, he knows that he means it when he says, “There’s never really been a choice, has there? I- I broke the world, and so I need to be the one to fix it. Whichever path that takes me down—that’s the one I choose.”

 “What?” Martin’s voice is shrill with disbelief. “How- how do you even know that she’s- she’s not just going to- to send you down the wrong one, to let the world stay this way? Not every avatar is as- as keen to see the world back to how it was as you are, Jon.”

 “No,” Jon agrees, finally looking away from the open doorway whose threshold he is stood upon. “But the Web was never going to settle for second place, was it? I can’t imagine a puppeteer enjoys having its strings pulled by another.”

 Annabelle’s smile is thin. “It has been lovely, getting a chance to talk again, Jon. But I’m growing impatient. Will you or will you not do what I ask? The choice is, of course, yours.”

 “No,” Jon says. “It’s not. But I will.”

 Martin looks stricken. Annabelle just looks pleased. She tells him the way in crisp words that leave no room for discussion—an instruction. Something to find. Something to bring back. Something to ‘close the circle’ she says, with a small smile akin to that of someone who’s just told a joke and finds themself very funny indeed. Something that can only be done alone.

 The door opens, and Jon steps through.

.

He can’t breathe.

 There’s no fear here, no Sight, no Eyes upon his back, and he can’t breathe.

 The door is shut, and refuses to open.

 Jon sits in a basement, faintly illuminated by sunlight that filters in through a small window near the ceiling, on a floor that is just a floor and against a wall that is just a wall, and feels the first parts of himself begin to slip away.

.

Jon is swallowed by the dark in a shuddering, twisting sensation that makes Martin dizzyingly nauseous, and his eyes squeeze shut in an instinctual effort to relieve some of the pressure.

 When he opens them again, it’s… it’s wrong. It must be, because there’s no pulsating darkness, no crack running through a concrete floor—just a floor, and just that musty darkness that one finds in the basement of a home that has not been inhabited for a very, very long time. Martin blinks, once, then again, like that might bring it back—that fractured reality, through which Jon had slipped in search of an answer, through which he was meant to return—

 “What,” he says in a voice pushed almost to the edge of breaking, “did you do?”

 Because Annabelle’s still standing in the corner, her eyes fixed on the floor with something close to remorse but missing the mark in every way that matters. She’s there, and Martin’s here, and Jon isn’t.

 She looks at him, one corner of her mouth slanted downward, and Martin snaps.

 “What did you do?” He takes a few angry steps closer, stops, and tries desperately to calm his increasingly rapid breathing. “Where- where did it go? How- how is Jon supposed to come back if there’s- if there’s no door, how can he- how, how can he… what have you done?”

 In a voice carefully neutral, Annabelle says, “What I had to. There has only ever been one way to rewind the clock, Martin. One way to set things back on the correct path. And it can’t happen in a world where there’s still an Archivist.”

 “What?” Martin takes a small, stumbling step backward; his foot catches on the corner of the stair, and he barely catches himself on the handrail. His wrist bends painfully, but he barely notices. “You… you knew he wouldn’t be able to…?” His mind is a swirling mess of terror and anger and agony, a million different words battling for dominance. All he manages to say, after a few moments of failed efforts, is: “You- you’ve killed him.”

 “No. I’ve removed him.” Annabelle’s face is twisted into something resembling pity, but like that of someone who’s only heard it spoken of in hushed, disbelieving whispers. It’s an ugly thing; Martin wants to rip it from her. “Living or dead, Jon would still serve his purpose in maintaining this world as it is. An Archive’s heart need not beat, after all. Were he to die, he just would have been reborn anew as the Eye saw fit. The only way to restore order to the world was to remove him completely.”

 “No,” Martin says, barely a whisper. “No, no, no.” Then, louder: “Bring- bring him back. I- I don’t care if things don’t change, just- just bring him back!”

 It feels terrible to say—that he’d rather see the world continue to writhe in agony than lose Jon before he’d even known to say goodbye. But it’s how he feels all the same. That small spark of hope, just before Jon had stepped over the precipice and fallen in, that there might actually be a way to fix things just makes the hurt that much deeper.

 “I can’t.” Annabelle turns away from the floor, away from Martin, toward the stairs. “That’s not how this works. This place has always been a one-way journey, Martin. There is no reopening a door that has been closed—not here.”

 She begins to cross the room, to ascend the stairs, and no, no, this can’t be it, this can’t be all that Martin gets. He reaches out and grabs at her wrist with a sudden rage. “Don’t you fucking look at me with- with whatever you’re calling pity and tell me that you can’t bring him back! You did this, you- you have to fix it!”

 Annabelle’s eyes are cold as she affixes them to him, in a way that freezes his muscles and arrests his motions beyond that of the rise and fall of his chest and the rapid-fire beating of his heart. She removes her wrist from his stiff hand with ease and says, flatly, “No, Martin. I don’t. I’ve done what I had to, and Jon has done the same. There’s nothing left to do but wait for the world to fix itself.”

 And then she’s gone. Martin’s not sure how long it is before he can move again; he only knows that one moment he’s frozen, and the next he’s outside Hilltop Road, staring up at a sky that’s folding in on itself as eyes wink out one by one and hearing the dying screams of a world that has no place left in which to store its terror.

 The world crumbles, and Martin crumbles alongside it.

 The world begins to rebuild. Martin does not.

.

Martin’s writing poetry again.

 His therapist would be proud, he thinks with a wry smile as he sits against the base of a tree in that park he likes that overlooks the pond, a notebook that’s gone neglected for years propped up on his knees. The letters are shaky and hesitant, his words rusty and out of practice, but he manages to get a few lines down. They’re about the feel of the grass beneath his hands, and the little blue beetle that’s currently making its way up his trouser leg, and the way the wind brings with it the smell of rain. Right now, though, the sun is shining brightly, making it just warm enough to sit outside despite the rapidly declining temperatures as the end of October approaches. It refracts off the leaves above Martin, sending dappled light onto the pages of his notebook, and it’s all so beautiful it hurts.

 Jon would like this, he thinks offhandedly. He’d never gotten enough sunlight with all those hours spent in the Archives, but in Scotland they’d gone on walks through the rolling hills, and Jon had admitted that he’d always loved the feeling of the sun on his face, had missed sitting outside for lunch like he did in uni. Scotland doesn’t really exist anymore; the lines have all blurred now, the memory of a life of pure fear erasing the need for a lot of things that had seemed essential before. But the sentiment is the same.

 Martin tries to write, thinking about how the sunlight would illuminate the grey streaks in Jon’s hair, but the words won’t come. It’s been years, and the words still won’t come.

 He allows himself to think, just for a moment, that it’s not fair. That the world has gotten the chance to regrow, in bursts of greens and pinks and yellows and vibrant life, and that he has been allowed to regrow alongside it, and that Jon hasn’t. That Jon had been taken from him, and that he hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye, and that he still can’t shake himself free from guilt and heartbreak and mourning.

 Somewhere in the distance, there’s a burst of laughter, cutting through birdsong and chittering insects, and Martin pulls himself free from his thoughts. He’s run through them again and again, in the bright daylight of the early morning and in the indigo hues of twilight and in the shadowed black of night where it seemed like he was the only one awake, shaking with sobs as he sat in a bed that felt so very, very empty. It doesn’t make anything any better, to linger on them. It doesn’t change anything.

 Jon is still gone. And Martin is still here. Alone, but not lonely. Never again lonely—not when he’s surrounded by so much life, so much light and growth and happiness, even if it still feels like it’s not meant for him.

 He knows he’ll get used to it here. He just wishes…

 No. There’s really no point in wishing anymore, is there? There’s only this.

 Martin looks out over the pond, at the way the wind sends shivering ripples over the water, interrupted only by the gentle glide of ducks and the splash of skipping stones thrown by children who remember the dark but embrace the light all the same. Then, he puts pen to paper, and begins to write.

[violetnuisance]

A Spark

The Pure Attract The Toxic - Chapter 2

a/n: I-I finally did it. Things start to get explicit in this one. Here’s the link if you’d rather read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20988461/chapters/49910162

I dunno if my “read more” is working on mobile, but let’s pray

[[MORE]]

Travis could feel his pulse pounding in his ears as his hands tightened their grip around the strap of his messenger bag. Despite the dread filling his lungs, his eyes narrowed on his target. The mane of frizzy brown hair towered over the other students who sat at their respective tables eating lunch, making it easy to spot Larry from a mile away. The blond marched onwards, forgoing his own lunch. His stomach had been in turmoil all day, too nervous to digest anything. It wasn't until brown eyes snapped up to meet his that Travis paused for a second, losing his bravery.

Larry’s eyes narrowed as they caught Travis’s, and the blond swallowed. The look of intense displeasure crossing the brunet’s face was a stark contrast to the chaotic energy he exuded just the day prior. As Larry looked away from Travis for a second and excused himself from his lunch table, the blond could all but feel the annoyance radiating from the other. He continued to stand still, waiting for his death sentence as Larry approached him. The taller male’s hands were dug in his pockets and shoulders hunched as he glared down Travis.

“Come on,” Larry barked out as he grabbed Travis’s arm. The blond stumbled backwards, balance briefly knocked, causing Larry to only tighten his grip. “Without making a fucking scene.”

“You’re the one dragging me out of the cafeteria,” Travis huffed, letting him be pulled through the double doors and back out into the hallway. Larry’s bruising grip on him only lessened when the brunet scanned the area and found no wandering students.

“I wouldn’t have to drag you anywhere if you’d just stay away from me and my friends,” Larry retaliated. Travis felt his face redden as his temper rose. He jerked his arm completely out of the other’s hand, earning a huff from the metalhead.

“If I recall correctly, you were the one following me around yesterday,” the blond seethed. Larry’s gaze darkened and a snarky laugh pushed its way up his throat. Travis felt his temper drop to be replaced by fear as the taller male took a step towards him. Mouth suddenly feeling too dry, Travis took a step back.

“Don’t get so full of yourself,” Larry chastised, voice dropping to a low growl. The deep octave made the hair on the back of Travis’s neck stand up. “Just because I wanted to toy with you yesterday doesn’t mean we’re buddies or that I want you anywhere near my friends.”

Travis’s mouth worked for a second, trying to push words out, but his brain failed to find a snappy comeback quick enough. Larry rolled his eyes as the awkward silence grew between them until the blond wished it would have the mercy to suffocate him. He found himself staring dumbly at the taller male’s chest, feeling akin to a toddler who had just gotten chastised. No, he never would’ve considered him and Larry friends, but he didn't think it’d be quite this difficult to get the other’s acquaintanceship at least.

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” Travis chose to say. Larry crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight to a side, obviously not believing the admission. “I was just going to invite you to a church service.”

“Why in the absolute fuck would I want to go to your church?” As if they were in a comic or animated show, Travis swore he could see Larry’s eyes visibly twitching, ready to deck the blond.Travis felt himself become hyper aware of how his hands clutched his messenger bag strap for dear life once more, too used to getting his lights knocked out by others to process that Larry didn’t have any true intentions of hitting him.

“I mean, I was just thinking-“

“Whatever you were thinking, you were wrong,” Larry deadpanned, eyes narrowing. Travis’s own eyes dropped down to stare at Larry’s shoes. He really wished he could call upon his usual venom, but he felt stupefied. Everything moved a bit too slow for him to process it fast enough to put on a facade. “And from now on, only talk to me when I approach you.”

Travis didn’t utter a word as he watched Larry walk away, long hair bouncing with every angry stomp.

/ / /

The lackluster interaction between them had left Travis feeling disgruntled. He never envisioned that he’d be able to conquer the wild beast that was Larry Johnson in his first rodeo, but he had been hopeful to at least make a millimeter of headway. Instead, the stony brown eyes of the other had shot him down on sight, refusing Travis before he even had the chance to open his mouth. Despite the blond’s overwhelming negativity with the situation, he realized that maybe not everything had crumbled to ashes like it appeared when he made his way to his trusty bicycle after the final bell had rung.

Mirroring the day before, Larry stood against the chain link fence by his bike. This time, the brunet held a lit cigarette between his lips, and Travis watched as the smoke billowed against the “No Smoking!” sign attached to the fence. He did his best to swallow the anxiety that Larry was just there to scold him more and held his chin up as he approached his own bike, determined to let the metalhead know that he had absolutely no control over him.

“Hey angel,” Larry cooed, taking the cigarette from his mouth. “Seems like you have a little more ‘pep in your step’ now.”

Just like that, Travis could feel his temporary control snatched from him by a mere pet name. A wolfish grin covered Larry’s lips as the brunet averted his gaze to let out a low chuckle while Travis stood in front of him, frozen. “What’d you call me?”

“Angel,” Larry answered, pushing himself off of the fence. Travis took a step back as Larry became a step closer to him. “I can call you something else if you’d like. Kitten rolls off the tongue easily, but maybe you’d prefer baby boy?”

“I’d prefer my name.” The words came through Travis’s gritted teeth. As soon as his surprise at the name had dissipated, his stomach had done a weird flip flop, but then utter annoyance took place. The male in front of him had no place to be referring to him so fondly, how one should refer to their girlfriend, not another boy-

“Earth to Travis, yoo-hoo!” The cigarette was back in Larry’s mouth, and the taller male had leaned in closer to Travis, waving a hand in front of his face. From this new, much closer, proximity the blond was overwhelmed by the reek of the nicotine. One again, he took a step back, this time quickly looking over his shoulder. It just sank in that Larry could get them both in trouble for smoking on school premises. “What were you fantasizing about so hard that you didn’t even offer me a nod when I said that I’d go to your stupid church?”

“Wait,” Travis’s head whipped back to Larry, “You’ll go?” The blond couldn’t keep the excitement and eagerness out of his voice. If he could just get Larry to go to service, he was sure it’d change the brunet for the better and maybe help cease some of the feelings going through Travis’s own mind when he caught himself staring at Larry.

“I’ll go to one meeting,”Larry corrected, holding up a single finger. Travis would take what he could get.

“That’s great-“

“But only if you let me drive you to my place tonight,” Larry interrupted, smile broadening as Travis’s own shrank. That wasn’t so great.

“Why?” It seemed that Larry’s grin only continued to grow, his insufferable tooth gap making an appearance now. The brunet drew his eyebrows together and shrugged his shoulders as if to exaggerate how “hard” he was thinking about the answer to Travis’s question.

“I dunno, thought we could have a little bonding experience before I show up at the Phelps Ministry, y’know?” Travis didn’t know. He didn’t know why they needed to bond before the Wednesday night service. Larry rested his hand on Travis’s shoulder, and the blond felt like he was being smothered. He swore his knees started to buckle when the bastard started to rub slow circles into his skin with his thumb.

“What about my bike? I can’t leave it here, didn’t bring my chain today,” Travis got out, thanking God for the excuse.

“Let’s throw’er into the back of my pickup truck. I have some cords that I can tie her down with if you want to be sure she’s safe,” Larry assured, a glint in his eyes that made Travis feel cold. The blond hugged his arms to his chest, heaved in a breath of air, and slowly sighed before nodding.

“If there’s a single scratch on the bike from the bed of your pickup truck, you’re dead faggot,” Travis snapped, surprising them both at the sudden shift in tone. Larry snorted, shaking his head.

“There you are. There’s the Travis I know and love to hate,” Larry deadpanned. The brunet’s own sweet facade fell at Travis’s words, and he jutted a thumb in the direction of his truck. “Go ahead and get in while I grab the bike.”

/ / /

Travis sat stiff, as if the tiniest movement from him would make the vehicle’s alarm go off, as he waited for Larry to tie his bicycle down. The truck was the kind that only had a row of front seats, no back ones. At the moment, Travis would’ve killed to have been able to sit in the back, farther away from the gremlin of a brunet.

“Alright,” Larry began as he swung himself into the driver’s seat. The whole truck heaved to the side under the offending weight, and the blond was duly reminded of how much the other had bulked up since freshman year. “Next stop: casa de Larry.”

“You live in an apartment, not an actual house. Wouldn’t it be ‘piso de Larry?’” Travis asked the question half because he was an ass and half because he had a Spanish exam next week. Larry shook his head and turned the key in the ignition. As the engine roared to life, Travis felt himself cave in even more.

“Maybe if my mom was from Spain or some shit. We never use that form,” Larry gritted, eyes no longer focused on Travis as he tried to maneuver the truck around an assortment of sloppy student parking jobs. In the silence, Travis noted that Larry no longer had his cigarette, must’ve stubbed it out before climbing in. He was thankful for that, not really wanting to be trapped in a small space with the obnoxious smell of a cig. The odor was already present enough on Larry’s clothes. “So why, exactly, am I going to your church? And don’t bullshit me Phelps. I know there has to be more of a reason than it being a good experience.”

“I dunno Larry. Why am I being abducted to your apartment? There has to be a better reason than bonding,” Travis echoed back, his sarcasm slowly but surely firing up again. Larry’s glare whipped towards him, frown pressed into his face before he let out a dry chuckle.

“Like I told you, it’s just bonding. I wanna get to see the big, bad Travis Phelps in a new light,” Larry replied. His eyes darted back to the road to make sure they weren’t going to crash before he looked back at Travis, gaze traveling up and down his body. The Christian felt like he was being undressed.

“What if I don’t want to ‘bond’ with you?” Travis sneered. Larry couldn’t help the smile that broke out across his face, and Travis couldn’t help but cross his arms back over his chest, trying not to completely ruin his front. They both knew Travis would be putty in Larry’s hands.

A touch against his neck made him snap his attention back to Larry. The brunet’s own eyes flit back and forth from the road to Travis as his free hand traced patterns on the side of the blond’s neck. The shorter male roughly swallowed, disconcerted by the weird yet soft interaction. “Don’t worry angel, we’ll only do whatever you want to,” Larry purred, fingers dipping down to trace the base of Travis’s neck before lightly tugging at his sweater’s neckline. “But something tells me that you’re going to want to do a lot.”

Just as the gentle touches started, they stopped, leaving Travis alight. He tried to blame his longing for the caresses on the lack of positive physical affection in his own household, but that debate came up short in his own mind. He didn’t have to mull over the reason for long however because Larry’s hand suddenly rested on his thigh. Travis looked to the other, to see what game he was playing, but the metalhead was focused on the road, signaling their conversation was over for now. At first, the hand didn’t bother Travis too terribly much. He grew accustomed to its weight and warmth, could almost pretend it wasn’t there. However, when Larry started driving on back roads and subconsciously squeezing the boy under him at every dip in the road, the blond began to mind the hand very much. He knew the other, for once, wasn’t trying to get a rouse from Travis, but this might’ve been the best show Travis put on for him yet.

While Larry’s hand was resting on top his outer thigh, his fingers were curled against his inner. And while the placement was nowhere near his crotch, it still made Travis’s head spin. Right now, he was sat up stiff and straight, legs almost completely shut together. If he actually relaxed, slouched a bit, and let his legs spread to a more comfortable position, the hand would surely rest a lot higher on him. Travis wasn’t a fan of how much the idea excited him, but another part of him certainly was. The Christian could’ve screamed bloody murder when he realized he was starting to sport a hard on from just having a hand on his thigh, Larry’s hand no less. Instead, he looked out the passenger seats window and steeled himself, trying to calm down.

However, as fate would have it, the bastard beside him started to rub circles against him, fingertips curving all too pleasantly against Travis’s leg through his shorts. The blond knew in the back of his mind that it simply wasn’t normal for even a less disciplined man than himself to get hard from a hand on their leg, but Travis felt like he was positively burning. He looked like he was burning too. In the window, he could see his faint reflection, and a vicious blush dusted his features.

“Only about fifteen minutes away from the apartment complex,” Larry stated, casting a glance over to Travis. His eyebrows immediately furrowed at the sight. “Jesus, do you have a fever? My mom just got over the flu, can't be bringing any more illnesses into the house.”

“No! No, I’m fine,” Travis replied, words tumbling out quick. He ripped his gaze from the window to face Larry, offering a nerve stricken smile. Larry stared at him intently, eyes searching his face before they suddenly dropped down to his crotch.

“Oh my god,” Larry began, grip on Travis’s leg tightening.

“Fuck you,” Travis spat, jerking his leg away from Larry. His whole body shifted from the brunet, legs clamped together, but it was still easy to notice the tent in his pants.

“Apparently you really want to,” the brunet mused. His hand hovered in the air, as if he wanted to pry the other’s legs apart and see how much damage he had done, but he thought better of it. His thumbs drummed against the steering well as he grabbed it with both hands.

“Only in your wet dreams, Johnson,” Travis growled, and Larry really wanted to go into a hysteria of laughing. Only the blondie sat beside him would deny his attraction while there was a raging boner in his lap. Instead, he slowed the truck as he pulled off to the side of the road. He never cut the engine, just let it purr gently as the vehicle came to a halt. The change in pace startled Travis, and he felt his heart start to race. At this point, he didn’t know if it was from anxiety or anticipation. “What are you doing? Why are we stopped?”

Larry shifted in his seat to fully face Travis now that he wasn’t driving. The coy smirk that seemed to be ever present on his face broadened as he once again looked Travis up and down. The Christian could feel the blood rushing in his ears as Larry bit at his own finger for a second, seeming to decide something in his head. “Say Travis, have you ever heard of road head?”

[strangewhitegirl321]

Abditory II (11th)

{Not my gif}

Words: 1398

This is a part two to the original story, Abditory.

Originally posted on my Wattpad account.

   Every day with the Doctor started out different. First of all, you were never quite sure if it was actually the day or not. But, if the Doctor claimed it was you simply went along with it and nodded with a grin. But today- oh, today was different.

   This very day, you had grown the bravery to challenge the Doctor. It began as a silly rivalry, but as expected with the Time Lord, it quickly grew into something over dramatic and serious. Mischievous grins mirroring the other, it was hard to keep back the laughs and giggles.

   The Doctor had once again confronted you about your disappearances into the TARDIS, and this time he refused to take 'magic' as an answer. Seeing that today was different from the others, you offered the Doctor a challenge.

   The TARDIS would leave the room where it normally resided, never once leading him in different directions. In turn, you would stay put as the Doctor came looking for you. You had an hour to get yourself situated, and the Doctor would then have an hour to find you. If he found you, well, you hadn't really negotiated on prizes. However, it seemed like a fun idea so the Doctor was all for it.

   Not out of the normal, the Doctor was confident. He fixed his bow tie and wouldn't stop grinning, eyes sparkling and never leaving your form. You gave him a look, and he quickly pivoted on his heel, promising not to turn around and peak where you were headed.

   "'Rule Number 1: The Doctor lies,'" You quoted, and he let out an over extended sigh.

   "I swear! I'm not lying this time!" He responded to your teasing with ease. Chuckling, you wondered if you should continue giving him a hard time. However, he didn't quite offer you the chance.

   "And, your hour is starting in five-" Pulling up his sleeve so he could gaze at a watch you hadn't realised he was wearing, he began to count down. Immediately, you shuffled off towards your destination, heading backwards just to make sure he didn't peak.

   Being over precautious, you even focused on making your footsteps as quiet as possible. Once you were sure he was out of hearing range, you turned around and darted down the halls as fast as possible. You didn't even dare touch the TARDIS walls, figuring he might cheat and bring some sort of thermal imaging camera- which, now that you thought about it you hadn't really made a rule against it and your feet would still betray you either way.

   Finally, you reached your destination and darted inside, quickly sprinting to a great hiding place you had mapped out as a child and tucking yourself away. If you were lucky, you were going to be stiff from hiding for a full hour and never being discovered.

   Carefully, you slowed your breathing and waited, brushing away the fact you had almost no means to tell time in your hiding place. You could definitely worry about it later.

   Once the Doctor was sure you were long gone, he plopped himself on a stair and waited impatiently. His foot tapped against the ground, he fiddled with his hands. Played around with his hair a bit and even made faces at himself in the reflection of the TARDIS. Barely five minutes in to the hour you had to hide, and he was utterly bored.

   Currently, he was staring at his watch as his legs bounced up and down and filled the room with a slightly annoying tapping. Luckily since he was the once making the sound, and there was no one else around there wasn't anyone to be bothered by it. Eventually he became too restless to sit still and sprawled out on the floor as if he was a starfish, pretending to make a TARDIS-angel and then flipping himself over to look through the glass floor.

   Oh, what would he do with so much spare time? You wouldn't be too mad if he went on a slight adventure- would you? Quickly he brushed the idea away, realising you were in said time machine and would accompany him for the trip whether you decided to stay in your hiding spot or not. With a sigh, he rolled himself around on the ground, deciding he was cleaning the floor.

   While he waited, he thought over every possible way you could have gone. He tried to lower the possibilities down based on your regular thought pattern, but grew frustrated with himself once he realised your special room's location depended entirely on his TARDIS.

   "Come on, old girl," The Doctor rolled onto his back and stared at her ceiling. "Help a Time Lord out, would ya?"

   The TARDIS gave him a buzz, seemingly unsatisfied with his plea and earning a frown. There was no way she was going to allow him to cheat. She thought it would be entertaining to watch him wander about looking lost anyways.

   "Of course," He groaned with a sigh. Awkwardly he stood up to his feet, beginning to pace around the TARDIS console.

   "What if I pressed this?" The Doctor's hand hovered over a particular purple button he hadn't really known about. Of course, if you were to ask him about said button he would have made up a story and hoped you went along with it. But in this moment he supposed it was the time to find out.

   Loudly, the TARDIS beeped, and he withdrew his hand with a frown, "Oh, alright then! I'll leave it alone!" ... Guess now wasn't the moment.

   Instead, he opted for pacing around the room, trekking new paths and mixing them up by skipping or hopping on one foot along them. Finally, his alarm rang just as he launched himself over the TARDIS railing from pure boredom and impatience.

   At the sound of the ring, he hopped up to his feet and joyfully screamed, "Get ready to be found, (Y/n)!" In a sudden burst of speed he ran down the halls, opening and closing every door he couldn't quite remember all that well.

   However, he quickly changed his tactics and instead ran down the halls of the TARDIS, looking for an unknown door that seemed just right. Several times, he stumbled upon a door with an excited cry he assumed was the right one. Each time, he was sadly disappointed.

   Although, discovering he had a bowling alley stocked with clean, fresh shoes of every size imaginable and the most beautiful shiny balls wasn't such a downer.

   Eventually, he wandered down the halls with sharp eyes. His hands rolled together as his teeth ground against one another. Eyes darting from room to room, he spotted a plain door to his left a few steps away.

   It seemed so plain, so perfectly camouflaged. Too common to his eye, he ran forward and sent it flying open. He screeched with victory, before it died down to a confused grumbling as he entered what looked to be an old home.

   The Doctor wandered around, intrigued by the simplicity of it all. Just a regular human home- a place to sleep, eat, play. A place for a child to grow.

   Freezing when he heard a suspicious noise, he slowly grabbed his sonic screwdriver. Pointing it in what he targeted as the correct location, he pressed a button and you came tumbling out and onto the floor.

   "Ha!" He hollered, a giant smile overtaking his face. With an annoyed groan, you stood up, dusted your knees off and sent him an eye roll.

   "Alright, you won fair and square," You mumbled with a sigh. Crossing your arms, your gaze softened as it landed on his wide smile.

   "Yes! Yes I did," He bragged, reaching up and giving his bowtie a flick. Clasping his hands together, he glanced around. His smile never faded as he wandered about the home, sometimes unwinding his hands to poke and prod at something he had found.

   Eventually, he came to a halt as he gazed over an object he guessed would be filled with your childhood memories, and he began to speak, "This place, it's very-"

   "Special," You answered. "Very dear to my heart. I couldn't believe it when the TARDIS lead me here."

   "Well," He began, seeming to brush off the fact that you had interrupted him. "You yourself are very special, Miss (Y/n) (M/n). A special girl deserves a special space."

[floralseokjin]

the fragmented journey of a permanently broken heart

min yoongi x reader angst 2574 words

⇶ chapter index 

Ten months together 

“Yoongi!” You called, panting hard as you tried to keep up with him. “Yoongi—slow down!”

You managed to tug at his sleeve slightly, hoping to halt him, instead he yanked it back, making you stumble from the shock. Any other time he would have panicked and asked if you were okay, but not tonight. Tonight, he was mad. Tonight, he was annoyed. Tonight, he didn’t care. And it didn’t even have anything to do with you. It was all him.

But here he was. Taking it out on you.

He carried on storming off, the hustle and bustle of the streets long eased off with the long day. It was almost 1am, the only noise random cars that drove past every now and again. They hadn’t seen another person since they left the bar. You weren’t even supposed to follow him out. You should have stayed there. You would’ve had more fun without him. But here you were. Unyielding and hot on his heels once again.

“Yoongi,” you tried again, voice strained. “Please can you just stop for a minute. I don’t understand what’s wrong.”

That just made him grow angrier. Self loathing ensnaring his insides, vines laced with thorns snaking their way up to his heart as they squeezed tightly. Of course you didn’t get what was wrong. His complex, closed off mind was too much for you to understand. How could he tell you the truth? It was impossible, even if he wanted to. How could he stand there and look you in the eyes and tell you he wasn’t right for you. Wasn’t made for you. Didn’t belong for you…

It was the smallest of things that triggered these worries—these realities. Usually he could ignore them well, or if not, he’d save them for the dead of night. When you were sound asleep, as beautiful as ever, hair draped against the pillow like a halo, soft mouth parted slightly, brows furrowed with dreams’ concentration. But sometimes everyday life would do just the same. Tonight, it had been seeing you talk with another man.

Yoongi wasn’t jealous—or not in that way anyway. He was envious because even though that man was a complete stranger, he knew deep down that he was probably a better man than he could ever be. The nameless figure could treat you better and shower you in all the love you deserved. That’s what had angered him… Knowing he didn’t deserve you and there were plenty more faces out there who did.

He was drunk. He knew that. It clouded his rationality, but also heightened his beliefs in the process—his truths. That’s why he had stormed out of the bar, much to your confusion. You had approached him, nuzzling your face into his neck lovingly and that’s when he had lost it. Your touch made him feel sick. It had nothing to do with you of course, he just became repulsed at himself for living such a lie. For lying to you. How could he enjoy such an act of affection from you as he lured you in under false pretences, because he knew this couldn’t last forever. Your bitterness would soon grow for him, as the days continued to roll into weeks and the weeks turned into months. He didn’t think he could last it years… He wasn’t that lucky.

“Yoongi, please,” you called again, voice wobbling, close to tears it seemed.

The hate burnt inside of him, the flames flickering at his heart, blackening what you had tried so hard to flourish. But like a weak man, your voice called to him. Your pain weakening his resolve. He was feeble and he stopped, holding back, the edge of his feet dangling on the curb of the sidewalk. That’s all it took for you to catch up, hand catching his. He let you hold it of course, fingers weaving loosely together, soft skin catching on calloused fingers. Even that felt like it was not meant to be for Yoongi. You were too perfect for him.

“Yoongi,” you whined slightly, broken and exhausted. “What’s wrong?”

Tugging at his hand to try and make him look at you stabbed at his chest. Tiny pin pricks, millions upon millions, penetrating his heart as he fought with himself. It was either give in to the throbbing muscle locked inside his chest like a prisoner; fighting for freedom, or listen to his brain. It knew best. He knew he couldn’t carry on living a lie, you would only resent him if he kept you.

He could feel your hand shaking in his, pulling harder, trying to anchor him to you. He inhaled slowly before swallowing, tasting the bitterness of the beer, he had so recklessly downed. He was a coward. He wanted to tell you everything he was feeling. To make you understand, if you would at all. But he couldn’t. Instead he closed off, fighting against the swell of feelings he felt for you, pushing them deep down inside his chest and turning the key. Locking them away as he pushed you away…

“You need to go,” he muttered, voice hoarse. It almost sounded alien to him.

“What,” you uttered, not quite a question, more like a disbelief.

Your grip loosened on his hand, but you still didn’t pull away, both hands lying limp beside him, his back to your body as he refused to look at you. The streets were silent but it echoed in his ears, taunting him.

He was being an idiot. What did he expect you to do? Leave him stood a block away from his apartment and go home back to yours? And what was he thinking? Forcing you to walk on your own, late at night? But still, he persisted on like a fool.

“Go,” he croaked. “Go back home.”

This time he forced to pull his hand away, body with it as he took a step forward. You didn’t give up though. Of course you didn’t. It was you all over. You were pure and you stood up for what you believed in. You didn’t back down and you give everything you had. While he…he was blackened. A coward. He chose to stay quiet and let the world go on without him, hiding away because it was easier like that.

“Yoongi,” you begged, tugging as hard as you could.

Something snapped inside of him then. He was mad at himself and he was taking it out on you. Months of built up resentment and anger at himself and it was finally boiling to the brim, spilling out when he least expected it; when he kept telling himself he had more time…

He pulled back his hand, as if your touch was scorching his flesh and he twisted around in his rage, face contorted as he roared, “I SAID GO!”

The look on your face would haunt him every time he closed his eyes, he knew that for sure. Lips parted in shock, eyes wide, startled like a deer caught in a car’s headlights. You stumbled back a little, on the side of the road as your arm hung pathetically back at your side. You instantly brought your other one to cross over your body, nursing yourself as you watched his expression, his words pounding in your brain.

He couldn’t look at your face anymore. It was torture. And he left, turning back to stride the block to his apartment, leaving you alone. He knew it was an awful thing to do, but he was an awful person. Too caught up in his own emotions to think about you and how you would feel. In his mind, he was correct. He was doing this to save you.

He should have known you wouldn’t give up. You never did. No sooner had he entered his apartment, standing aimlessly in the hallway, he heard the lock in his front door turn. He’d forgotten he’d given you a key. Such a couple thing to do, filled with affection and warmth. The thought made his chest ache. He so badly wanted to go back in time and have a second chance. Or even just to live these past few months together, over and over again.

He turned his head to look at you, heart weighing him down as he was met with your forlorn being. Tears streaked down your face, the same confused expression on your face as your hands clenched together in fists, one last attempt at protecting yourself. You didn’t speak, just watched him with wide eyes, about five meters between you both. You made no attempt to move and for that he was glad. If you were close to him, touching him, he would have a hard time saying no. This was hard enough, but he knew he needed to do it. He needed to explain to you. He owed you this much. Even if you wouldn’t understand.

He could see in your eyes that you already knew something was wary. Black eyes flickering between his as you tried to gauge an answer. This wasn’t like any other argument, mainly because you gave as good as you could get during them—not that there were any anyway. He hated quarrelling with you because you didn’t deserve that. He’d rather back down because you deserved to win every time. But not here… You deserved better. He was freeing you…

He didn’t belong to you. He wanted to, but he didn’t. There was always something lacking deep inside him. His own insecurities, own bitterness, own worries… They had never gone away, and he had hoped with your presence, they would. He had been happy for a while, after that initial meeting, and the weeks that followed. He thought that had been it. He had found someone to love him. But it was a trick, a cruel one; betrayed by his own heart. He realised quickly, having someone to love you didn’t instantly mean you loved yourself. In fact, the bitterness just festered away harder, because he knew he didn’t deserve you.

He’d give anything to start afresh, trying really hard this time. Or if not, go back to the one memory he had where hope seeped from every pore in his body. The first time you had been intimate together. His heart pounding deeply, rhythmically in his chest—at ease and relaxed, feeling something other than twisted hate. You radiated beauty that night—you always did, but at the moment in time he could see it suspend around you, golden, iridescent strands floating from your body. He felt like he was suffocating in the feeling, but he had never felt so calm in his life.

Hope was something he tried to keep hold of, but it slipped out of his grip eventually… He went back to how it was, his thoughts and feelings locked deep inside his being, not wanting to share them, not wanting them to see the light of day. He didn’t need you to know, although he knew a part of you did—a big part after tonight. He wanted you to know it had nothing to do with you, it was all on him. He was born like this. He was born with a broken heart. And he would only make you miserable in the end. Just like now.

So many unsaid things went by as you stared at each other. He wanted you to be able to read his mind, understand exactly where he was coming from. But it was impossible. A mind as complex as his was hard enough for him to understand. How could he expect you to do such a thing? Instead, he chose the coward’s way out. He waited for you to speak.

It didn’t take long, but what he heard caved in his chest, as if battered with an ice pick.

“Will you ever love me?”

You knew. He had been correct. All your worries and self doubt about the relationship. You had that too, but for different reasons. You thought he didn’t return any of the feelings you had for him. Or maybe you thought he was a work in progress. If you tried hard enough, you’d make him fall in love with you. He hoped deep down you realised all this was because he was a coward, scared of opening up, scared of being happy…not because he truly didn’t want you. Not because he was using you for some unknown reason.

However, by the look on your face right now—by the hopelessness in your expression, he was unsure… It made him feel dead inside. It made him hate himself even more than he already did.

How strong were you to be able to withstand all this? To be with him for months, when you knew he was holding back. When you knew there was little chance he would open his heart to you. You had tried your best. You had looked after him, loved him unconditionally, dreamt of your further together, but like he had told himself, it was only a matter of time before you’d grow sick of unrequited feelings. You weren’t an object. You were a person with feelings—thoughts and emotions, and he was treating you horribly.

Tonight was the night you gave up. He could see it in your eyes. The way you looked at him.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” he croaked, voice hoarse and he winced at how cliché those words were.

He was a joke. You thought so too by the sound of the scoff that fell from your lips. He was too cowardly to look you in the eyes anymore because he knew he would burn under your scornful gaze.

How could he tell you it was the truth? It had nothing to do with you—all on him. And deep down, none of this meant he didn’t love you—that he wasn’t in love with you. Because right down in the depths of his heart, locked away in chains, desperate to get out, was the love he had for you. It only escaped for mere moments at a time, like when you were holding him, caressing him, whispering in the shell of his ear…

He was sure if you began that right now, he’d buckle and break. He’d tell you the things you’d want to hear—that he wanted to hear too. He’d promise to be a better man. He’d love you for the rest of your life. He’d love you for the rest of his life.

But you didn’t move. You stayed rooted at the spot and curiosity beat him, he had to look up. He had to meet your eyes.

Doing so caused him him choke in silent surprise. You looked through him like he was a stranger. Not the man you had spent months with. Not the man you had kissed and hugged, laughed with, shared your deepest dreams and secrets with… You had finally realised you deserved better than him.

More words fell from your mouth, fresh tears falling as you turned on your heel, his heart shrivelling up as he watched you leave. The slam of the door ringing in his ears, deathly silence following.

“I’m not important enough to make you change.”

That was a lie.

You were too important to him. That’s why he couldn’t have you.

You needed better.

And he hadn’t even told you that.

He was a coward.

And it was over.

[writingwife-83]

Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Day 7- Free Choice

I was recently inspired by this post made by @mychakk about how things could have gone if Molly simply never picked up the phone during that scene in TFP. I came up with a somewhat angsty idea of how things might have played out in that scene and also for Sherlock afterward. Hope everyone enjoys it, and happy final day of Sherlolly Appreciation Week!! :D

Unsaid

John watched as a final scream of pain ripped through Sherlock’s body. He staggered backward, his back soon colliding with concrete and causing him to slide down to the floor with a strangled sob. The floor was littered with shreds of the cheap wooden coffin. The practical choice, for someone unsentimental about the necessity of disposal. John had wanted it ripped apart almost as badly as Sherlock. The truth was that none of them wanted that coffin to be a reality.

None of the three men wanted to think of the fact that Molly Hooper was now headed for one just like it.

Sherlock had yelled, pleaded, offered himself and anything else that Eurus could possibly find useful. But his words didn’t stop the clock from running down. Molly had puttered around the kitchen, glancing at the repeated calls, but choosing to ignore them, instead finishing her tea preparation and then pouring some food in Toby’s bowl. And eventually, after the fourth attempt, the clock inevitably ran all the way to zero. Considering the things they’d seen in the previous sessions of torment, John supposed it wasn’t shocking that Eurus didn’t hesitate for a moment to carry out her previously spoken threat. And after a popping flash of light that made them all jump…the screen displaying Molly’s pristine little flat went completely black.

A few moments after, Sherlock turned from the screen with eyes aflame and teeth clenched tight to scream his protest at the top of his lungs as he rushed over to grab the lid to the coffin and slam it down over the final resting place for Molly Hooper. Molly Hooper- the woman who loved Sherlock Holmes.

As the dust had finally begun to settle, John slowly approached his friend, picking up the handgun on his way. He sniffed away his own emotion as he looked down at Sherlock, whose hands were still shaking.

“I’m so-” He stopped. God, it sounded so hollow. Those stupid words always sounded forced when it came to death, no matter how genuinely they were spoken. He hated the fact that here he was now, saying the very same thing to another man in pain.

Because what else was there to say?

“Sherlock, I’m so sorry,” John finally managed to whisper.

The great detective, reduced to a shell of a man on the floor, seemed in a sort of trance still. He spoke softly to himself rather than forming a direct answer to John.

“So many words unsaid…”

John hung his head for a second and sighed, trying to breath through the lump in his own throat. “I know, Sherlock. Believe me…I know. She should have had a lifetime left. And she should have had the chance to say whatever she-”

“Yes,” Sherlock cut in. “But I…I meant me, John. Because, you see, I already knew. I knew how Molly felt. But Molly- good, kind, understanding Molly Hooper…now she’ll never know.”

John stared down at him, knowing what he meant but being terrified to hear it come from his lips. Because it was truly heart wrenching.

Sherlock tilted his head up then, eyes still red and shining as he spoke in a broken voice. “I loved her.”

John had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment, wondering how it was possible for all this to be happening. He glanced over at the doorway for a moment, seeing the way even Mycroft hung his head in his hands.

“This isn’t fair, none of it is,” John said, trying to speak in a strong and steady tone. “Least of all what just happened to Molly. But, Sherlock…we still need to get out of here. We need to keep going. Do it for-”

His voice broke again and he had to pause.

“Sherlock, do it for Molly. Finish this for her. And for Mary, because God knows she wanted Rosie looked after. And we just can’t let her lose anyone else. We can’t.”

Something steadied in Sherlock’s gaze at the mention of his God daughter, and that was just what John was hoping for. He needed something to fight for. Something outside of the walls they were confined in.

Sherlock looked up, his voice a bit calmer. “Soldiers?”

“Soldiers,” John agreed, and he helped his friend to stand.

Sherlock’s legs began to feel like jelly as he reached the door to Bart’s museum of pathology. His hands fumbled with the keys that he fished from his pocket, noticing the way they all looked awfully similar in the palm of his hand. It took him a while to pick out the one that Molly had given him a couple years back.

He knew very well that he wasn’t himself at the moment. He was a scientist. None of is needed to be explained to him. He’d been drugged, and then proceeded to function after waking purely on fear and adrenaline. There was no time to process anything really. All he could think about was keeping John and Mycroft safe, and getting his sister back to a place where she could get the needed help. Those were the only things that mattered. But now, suddenly the dust had settled. He’d made sure John and his brother were safe and in good hands, his sister was being taken away, and then he’d avoided any further communication with anyone else, wanting only one thing. To be alone.

And his mind instantly could only think of one place he wanted to be.

His fingers eventually managed the key in the door and he let himself into the darkened building, closing and locking up behind him, just as Molly had always reminded him.

He walked into the large empty center of the room, glancing around him and feeling the room spin ever so slightly as he did. The moonlight spilled through the skylights on the ceiling, giving the whole place a silvery glow.

Sherlock trudged unsteadily over to the metal spiral staircase, climbing up to the third level, gripping the railings tightly for support. He reached the top, peering up toward the moonlight again, blinking a little at the unexpected brightness. If anything, he craved the comfort of a bit of darkness.

His eyes shifted over to some of the carefully organized and labeled containers that lined the shelves on the wall. It was a wonderland of samples and the nuggets of knowledge they each offered. He’d spent countless hours in here over the years. Though, they hadn’t all been for the purpose of learning.

Many years ago-a lifetime, really- in a bit of a rough patch and looking for a place to hide out from his brother, Sherlock had broken in here. He’d been pleased at the choice of hideout at first…but then a small and rather angry young woman had made him regret the decision.

He’d met Molly Hooper here…right here actually, he noted, glancing at the brains housed in formaldehyde filled jars. His feet must have automatically taken him to this very spot. He had made a crack that night to her, saying that he should do the hospital a favor and donate his brain for extensive study upon his death. She threatened to help him along in that regard if he didn’t get out.

The friendship had taken at least twenty minutes to truly begin blossoming.

He smiled to himself at the memory of the first moment her gaze softened and lips began to turn up. The second he did though, his own lips turned downward again and he felt the tightness in his chest taking hold again.

She was gone.

Never more to yell at him, smile at him, correct him, commend him, laugh with him, or even gaze affectionately at him. How little some of those things meant at times. How very much he’d taken them for granted. But now, spending his first day without all that was Molly Hooper, he’d absolutely donate his brain and anything else, if it only meant bringing her back.

He kept walking, almost blindly at first around the corner, till he glanced at the display again and noticed all the hearts…so many hearts.

Unconsciously, he clutched at his own, feeling it pounding beneath his clothes. There was a time when he thought that of all the organs in his body, this one was the least interesting. Upon further inspection though, perhaps this was the organ that deserved to be donated. How very much he’d learned about it recently. Too late, of course, he reminded himself bitterly.

He tried to continue walking the perimeter of the large room, but stumbled a bit, having to clutch the railing of the upper level and help himself gently to the floor. Perhaps this was what he needed tonight. Just a quiet place to rest his mind and body, and perhaps sleep off the rest of whatever concoction his sister had drugged him with.

This was a place of peace to him, and he felt…close to her.

So close.

“Sherlock?”

He frowned, opening his eyes, though unsure just how long they’d actually been closed. Then he heard it again.

“Sherlock?”

But he didn’t only hear it…now he saw her.

Molly walked lightly toward him, approaching cautiously before crouching down to his level. “Hi,” she said softly, with a gentle smile.

“Molly,” Sherlock breathed, eyes wide with wonder. “You’re…here.”

She shrugged. “And so are you. Seemed a good place for me to be right now.”

Suddenly, a lightbulb switched on in his mind. He was taken back to his own flat, not so long before, as he watched John Watson have a conversation with his invisible and very definitely dead wife…

“This must be what I need,” he murmured, feeling a sort of calm wash over him.

Perhaps this was it. This was his chance. Maybe this is naturally what happens when you lose the woman you love without getting to say everything that’s in your heart. Your mind simply takes over and provides a therapeutic coping mechanism. And a bit of closure…a means to say goodbye.

Molly smiled. “I’ll help you however I can, Sherlock, I promise. You’re not hurt, are you?”

He frowned, glancing down at himself for a second. “Fine…just a bit…lost.”

She settled down on the floor next to him, staring into his eyes with concern. “You’ve been through some really awful things today, haven’t you?”

He didn’t feel even an ounce of shame as a tear slipped from his eye and down his cheek. “So have you.”

Molly’s cool fingers came to rest on his wrist to get his pulse as she nodded with an understanding expression. “Don’t you worry about me right now, I’m just fine. I’m here for you, ok?”

He chuckled lightly. “Not that I deserve it. I should have been there for you today! I’m sorry, Molly, so so sorry! But I- I couldn’t! Why? Why didn’t you answer your mobile?!”

“Shh,” Molly soothed, looking concerned. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I didn’t answer when you needed me to. But it’s in the past now, and it’s all going to be ok.”

Sherlock shook his head adamantly, despite the fact that it made the room spin again. “No, no it’s not. It’s not ok. I could have saved you, I know I could have! All I would have had to do was just say it! Why couldn’t I ever just say it? And now…”

He reached up hesitantly, wondering at first what it would feel like, touching his palm to her cheek.

“Now it’s all gone. I’ve lost everything,” he said, staring deep into her moonlit eyes. “I’ve lost my home.”

She always was like home to him. Strange that such a profound truth had only now just become clear.

“I know you have,” Molly agreed sadly, a little moisture clouding her eyes as well. “I hate it too. But you haven’t lost everything, Sherlock. I’ll always be here for you.”

He blinked away tears and enjoyed the feel of her cheek beneath his thumb, surprised at the power of his brain to conjure such a softness. “Not like you should be, Molly. Now it’ll never be like it should have been. I never got to say-” The words caught in his throat and he wished so much that this wasn’t the way he had to do it.

“Sherlock,” she coaxed, touching his hand on her face. “You know you can say anything to me. I’m here now, so say whatever you need to.”

“Yes,” he agreed desperately. “Yes, you are. You’re here now. Now is the time to be honest, I suppose…about how I feel.”

Her expression quickly became one of wonder.

“I so…very…desperately love you, Molly Hooper,” he said between gasps of breath. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the room at the moment, which was odd, considering the square footage.

Molly’s eyes were wide and her jaw hung open for a moment. But then she reached out and grabbed him by his coat, pulling him in against her, holding him tight.

Sherlock clung to her, thanking God that he had actually hugged her a couple of times in the course of their friendship, enabling his mind to recreate the realistic memory, complete with the smell of her hair and the feeling of her breath against his neck.

Molly pulled back again, giving him a watery smile. “Sherlock…you know I love you too.”

He nodded. “Wonderful to hear it though. Even in the circumstances.” He clutched his pounding head as she felt his forehead and then checked his pulse again.

“Sherlock, I really think you need some help,” she said a bit more firmly.

“You’re all I need, Molly,” he said with a groan. He looked up at her again and it seemed she was even more fully cloaked in the shimmering moonlight. She truly seemed a bit unearthly, and he wondered if this was his mind’s way of reminding him that she wasn’t physically there.

“Molly,” he whispered, almost in awe. “You are so very beautiful. Did I ever tell you that?”

“That’s so lovely you think so, but why don’t you tell me about that another time?” her voice soothed. “First we need to take care of you, ok?”

“You always have, haven’t you?” Sherlock said with a contented sigh, leaning over against her. Or possibly the railing. He wasn’t sure. “I will miss this.”

“Sherlock?” Molly’s voice questioned.

“Mm…” he hummed in answer, eyes closed again.

“Sherlock? Can you hear me?” Her voice sounded a bit different now. “Sherlock?”

He began to feel a bit agitated, hearing more than one voice now. And none of them sounded like Molly anymore. But he was also tired, so tired.

Sherlock gave in to the fatigue, stress, and medication still present in his system, and finally fully dozed off. He knew very well that may have been the last time he’d “see” Molly Hooper, but he tried to find peace with that. That was how it worked, he supposed. He’d finally said what had long been unspoken.

And now, as much as he hated to, he could say goodbye.

Sherlock startled awake, his mouth feeling rather dry. He glanced around the room with squinting vision, too much sunlight streaming in for his liking. After realizing he was in a hospital room, he noted the pitcher of water and cup beside his bed and helped himself. As he drank, he also noted that he wasn’t alone.

John was slumped over, sleeping in the hospital chair. He stretched a moment later though, likely disturbed by the sound of Sherlock waking.

“Sherlock, hey, you feeling better?” he asked, blinking away the grogginess and clearing his throat.

“I am, yes,” Sherlock answered honestly. “You?”

“Yeah, better,” John agreed, rubbing his neck. “They checked me out as well yesterday. In fact I was still here when I got the call that you were being brought in.”

Sherlock frowned. He reached over and grabbed his mobile, checking the call history. Just as he thought…a call for an ambulance at about two fifteen. He’d somehow called 999 for himself. He set his mobile down, now wearing a thoughtful expression.

“John?”

“Hm?”

“Was it…very real…with Mary?”

John stiffened, not angrily, but just in hesitance at the shift to such a tender topic.

“I mean after she was gone,” Sherlock clarified. “When she was…still there.”

John pursed his lips and cleared his throat again. “Well, I um- it was- you know, just a very hard time and, well, still is really, so…” He let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. Yeah it was actually. It did feel pretty real.”

Sherlock nodded. “I thought so,” he replied softly. “I never knew how wonderful it could be.”

John frowned at him. “I’m sorry, did you…did you see Mary?”

“No no, that wouldn’t make quite as much sense. But I had a very similar experience to yours. You see, John…” Sherlock paused, emotional to even speak the words aloud. “I saw Molly.”

John’s gaze shifted in confusion. “Well, right, yeah I imagine you did. She was with you the whole time.”

Sherlock smiled at his friend, releasing a shaky breath. “Yes, you would say that, wouldn’t you? Always the romantic! And having experienced something so similar. I have to admit it was rather cathartic.”

“That’s good,” John said with a short laugh. “I’m sure she’ll be back any minute and you can tell her yourself.”

Sherlock shook his head. “No, John. I imagine not. I said what I needed to say. I was finally honest. I doubt I’ll be seeing her anymore.”

Now John looked deeply puzzled. “So you were honest…and you think that means she won’t want to see you anymore? My God, what did you say?”

Now Sherlock was becoming confused. “John, you of all people should understand how this works. We can’t just keep them around in our minds forever simply because we loved them! Ultimately they are gone.”

“Sherlock, why the sudden drama?” he asked, his voice rising. “Molly’s only gone to her flat for a change of clothes and a coffee! She should be back in another ten minutes!”

Sherlock stared back at him wide eyed. “H-her flat? What do you mean? Her flat blew up!”

“What?! Why are you so confused? You saw her last night with your own two-” John’s expression shifted in understanding. “Oh…my God. You thought she wasn’t real. That’s why you were just- ok well that makes more sense now.”

Sherlock had jumped to a full sitting position in the bed now, his eyes on fire. “A-are you telling me, John, that Molly is…she’s not-”

“Molly is perfectly fine and alive,” John stated firmly. “Her flat is fine as well. There were never any explosives. Eurus was bluffing. Her intent wasn’t to harm Molly. Her game was, as all of this was really, psychological and emotional. Emotions were the weapon and you, Sherlock, were the target. Molly never was.”

Sherlock was frozen in shock and awe, realizing how very wrong he had been. And oh how glorious it was to be wrong now!

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think I needed to tell you,” John went on. “When I heard Molly had you brought to the hospital, I assumed you knew everything.”

“The call…for the ambulance,” Sherlock questioned, still working through the hazy details. “It was made from my mobile.”

“Yeah, she mentioned to me that hers was dead, so she used yours. She was probably a little out of sorts as well. I mean, it was past two in the morning and she only came to the museum because-”

“Security called her,” Sherlock finished, beginning to make logical sense of the events. “Of course they did. They saw me go in and thought to check with her. She’s got the clearance and they know she’s my friend.” He lowered his head into his hands, laughing softly at himself in hindsight.

John placed a hand on his shoulder, making him look up again.

“I’m glad yours was real, Sherlock,” he said softly.

Sherlock felt a fresh stab of guilt. “John, I- I’m-”

“No no, it’s ok,” John cut in with a small smile of reassurance. “Honestly, I’m fine. I’m just relieved that none of us, especially you, had to go through losing another rather remarkable woman.”

He returned John’s smile.

“But on that note,” John said, stepping away and grabbing his coat. “I think I’d better leave before Molly gets here. I imagine you’ll need to pick up where you left off and I want to go home and hold my daughter.”

Sherlock promised to pop by to see Rosie once he was cleared and out of the hospital, and then John made his exit, leaving Sherlock to think seriously about what he needed to say once Molly walked through that door.

He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and resting his joined fingers against his lips. It was a bit difficult to plan what he was going to say, if he were honest. Every which way he tried, he kept getting held up at one little point and being unable to focus on anything else.

She was alive.

All he wanted to do now was jump up and down and sing out his relief. And then hold her. Yes, hold her and hold her till the muscles in his arms turned to mush. Nothing sounded better than that.

He had become so lost in thought that he didn’t notice when she finally did enter the room. It wasn’t till he felt her lay a hand lightly on his shoulder that his eyes popped open. At the sight of her sitting on the edge of his bed, her serene face staring back at him, he couldn’t help the way he launched forward and instantly wrapped her up in an embrace. He felt her gasp a bit at the sudden force of it, but then her arms locked around him with equal intensity, her cool fingers even slipping inside the opening of his hospital gown to rest on the skin of his back.

With greater clarity than he possessed the previous night, he knew very well that even his mind couldn’t duplicate a feeling like this.

Sherlock pulled back, not really wanting to let go but also needing to see her face. He looked at her, every detail, while caressing her face and brushing away the hair that he’d messed a bit.

“You’re real,” he whispered.

Molly nodded. “You didn’t think I was last night, did you?”

He let out a slow sigh. “You’ve heard all about it then?”

“Most of it, yes. You see, after I got the call from the museum security and eventually got you settled in the hospital, I also got a call from your brother’s PA Anthea. She told me they were sending over some special team to my flat to sweep for explosives.” She let out a short laugh. “Naturally, I had a few questions after that, so she filled me in.”

Sherlock’s expression turned a bit sheepish. “I…wasn’t exactly myself last night.”

Molly’s face fell a touch. “Oh…right, well…naturally you wouldn’t have been. It’s fine, I know you weren’t in your right mind and-”

“I wasn’t saying I didn’t mean mean it,” he hurried to clarify, grasping her hand. “I simply meant that I’m sorry that’s was how it came out. But I thought it was my only chance to tell you- well, sort of you.”

“Sherlock,” she laughed. “I can’t really imagine a scenario where I’d be disappointed at you telling me you love me. What does it matter where we were or how you said it? Those are just little details. What matters is that you said it…and you meant it.”

He smiled, pleased that he hadn’t mucked the whole thing up by confessing his love to what he thought was a mind projection of Molly Hooper. And then he leaned forward, grasping her face again and pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before speaking against her skin.

“And I’m sorry it took me this long.”

She shook her head a little against his lips. “S’ok. Don’t be sorry. Just…” She pulled away and smiled at him. “Let’s move on instead. No more being sorry and living with awful regrets and what-ifs. Let’s just be happy, ok?”

Sherlock smiled in agreement. “No regrets, hm?” He moved one of the hands that cupped her face so his thumb could experimentally caress her bottom lip. “That should probably include not…holding back, correct?”

Molly’s eyes brightened a bit. She nodded rapidly, attention drawn to his mouth now as well. “Mmhm. You should just go ahead and do, you know, whatever you’re feeling…”

Sherlock leaned in slowly, enjoying the sight of her eyes fluttering closed as his nose touched hers.

“No more days not lived,” he murmured.

“Hm?”

He didn’t answer though. Instead, his lips finally made contact and melted blissfully into hers. But he did want to tell her about those words of Eurus’, and he planned to tell her many other things about that day as well. He’d like to share it all. And everything beyond that as well. Starting at that moment, Sherlock Holmes had so very many things to say.

And say them, he would.

[junaeneous]

Jeffrey’s Hill (M) Part Seventeen

SUMMARY: “Don’t go to Jeffrey’s Hill,” he warned. “A lot of shit goes on there. Even the police ignore crime reports that surface from there.” You rolled your eyes. “What is everyone so afraid of?”  

Your brother sounded grave. “The power of the Chimera.”

GENRE: violence, angst, a little bit of humour (because it’s me) and the occasional tonsil-hockey.

MEMBER/GROUP: EXO + BTS

PARTS:  intro | 1  | 2  | 3  | 4  | 5  | 6  | 7 | 8  | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

A/N: helloooo! it’s been 84 years, I know, I know, and I’m sorry! the recap is below for those who don’t want to read the entirety of the previous chapter. :D

RECAP: OC’s mother, Reina, has been killed by Jae Hyeon. Yoongi has been critically injured and is yet to wake, while all units of the gang abroad have been dismantled, awaiting further orders. OC + Junmyeon got a lot closer, as did Desiree and Namjoon. They want to end the fight with Ava before they proceed to transition from a gang into a video-technology business. Kris, Tao and Luhan have made their appearances and are helping with the transition. 

YOONGI WOKE TO THE SOUND OF HIS OWN HEARTBEAT.

He gasped, head falling back onto the pillow as the heartbeat monitor beside him settled back into its monotonous beeping. Seconds later, a nurse stumbled in, eyes wide in shock. “Mr. Min, you’re--you’re awake!”

Yoongi nodded. “Could you--get me a glass of--” He coughs, struggling to swallow the dryness away. The nurse caught on and grabbed the glass on the table, filling it and handing it to him. The water cools his throat and chases away the dryness, enabling him to speak. “Is everyone okay?”

“We’ve had a lot of losses,” the nurse spoke softly, lowering her head, “and few recoveries. Most are still fighting for their lives. We’re told to expect the worst at the moment.”

The older’s jaw clenched. “How many losses?”

“I’m not sure, sir, but the number is large.”

Innocent lives that had nothing to do with the personal battle between the members, you and Jae Hyeon. They’d paid a price not cashed in their names. Yoongi dismissed the nurse, waiting until she left to grab the his phone from the table closer to his reach. He dialled Jimin’s number, smiling slightly when the younger answered on the first ring.

“Yoongi?”

“Yes, hello.”

“You’re awake? Holy shit. You’re actually--oh my god I’ll be right there--”

“No, Jimin, wait. You don’t need to come here, I’m on my way there.” Jimin immediately whined in protest, saying it would be better for him to rest. To that, Yoongi countered, “Jimin, I’m sure I’ve been resting for longer than necessary. They’ve reduced the size of my bandages, it’s clearly been a while. Stay put, I’m on my way.”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn,” the younger grumbled, making him chuckle. “But hey, should I update you as you make your way here?”

“That’d be wonderful.”

And so Yoongi learned of all that he’d missed. The successful dismantling of the units. The cheesy name of the new company, and its sleek logo. Desiree and Namjoon finally taking the step into a relationship, you and Junmyeon following closely behind. The subtle hunt for Jae Hyeon. Finding a body near the west border that later identified to be Marcus, who had shot by one of Jae Hyeon’s men. His daughter was being watched over by Jongin. They’d relocate her to Canada soon.

“And lastly, how everyone’s been worried sick about you.” The younger’s voice grew soft. “Do you know how terrified we’ve been? Every time the doctor called, we feared the worst. You were dead for ten fucking minutes. Dead.”

“I tried to reverse his shot, but I was sloppy.” Yoongi admitted defeatedly. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I care about. Take better care of yourself, do you honestly want to die a bitter, single, loner?”

“Did you just call me bitter?”

“I also called you a loner,” Jimin added, chuckling. “But I’m serious. You need to watch out when you head on into missions. Treating them nonchalantly may be your way of handling the seriousness of it, but this is a good example of why you should have, at the very least, a little bit of caution.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “I’ll be careful, happy? I mean, it’s not like we’ll ever have to do missions again if this goes successfully.”

“Not if,” Jimin corrected. “When. It’s already been put into motion.”

Yoongi managed a genuine smile at that. No more missions. No more fearing that one day he’d be burying one of his brothers. No more recruiting and selling things that repulsed him. Despite everything, they were going to begin anew.

That was the only thing he could offer to the ones who’d given their lives for it.

“Y/N!”

You spun around to face Namjoon. “Junmyeon’s stuck in a meeting, so he can’t drive you back home. I’m your designated driver once again.”

 “He texted me.” You confirmed, smiling. “Hey, before I go home, can we drop by my old house by any chance? I just want to get one last look at it before it’s cleared out and sold to someone else.”

 He nodded. “Sure. Come on.”

 The drive to your old house was filled with minimum chatting. You teased Namjoon about Desiree and he, in turn, backhanded by bring up Junmyeon. It felt nice to indulge in normality, despite everything around you.

 Once Namjoon pulled to a stop, you exited the car, doing your best to block out the emotions that were slowly rising to the surface. Without thinking too much, you entered, Namjoon following closely behind.

The living room was empty. All of the pictures that hung on the walls were gone. The furniture had been taken out. No sign of you or your family remained. You sucked in a breath to help with the overwhelming sadness that you felt. This was going to be harder than you’d imagined.

You made your way to your parents’ bedroom, remembering what Junmyeon had told you. Namjoon chose to stay in the living room, giving you the space you needed. The room was almost empty, save for the bed, which had no mattress. You walked towards it, remembering how angry your mother would get when you’d place your hands on the sides of the bed. Upon closer inspection, you noticed something odd about the base of the bed. A portion of it seemed strange in comparison to the entire base. You placed your hands on it, freezing with realisation.

 A false base.

Your fingers were quick to search for an entry, prying the wood away when they did so. Underneath, in a secret compartment, was a box.

This was what your mother had meant.

You pulled out the box, seating yourself on the floor so you could uncover what was inside.

Several letters addressed to your brother, father and you were placed neatly inside. You frowned. What could she have possibly written in there that she hadn’t already said?

You left the letters addressed to your brother and father alone, only pulling out the envelopes that had your name scribbled onto the front.

Hesitantly, you slid your finger under the lip of the envelope, tearing it open to get to the papers inside. Hands trembling, you smoothed out the papers, taking a deep breath before reading.

To my sweet, sweet daughter,

If you’re reading this, then I’m dead. Or maybe this is someone else holding this. I sincerely hope it isn’t.

I would like to start off by saying I’m sorry.

I wasn’t meant to be a mother. That, in no way, excuses what I’ve done and continue to do, but it’s just the one fact that no one is willing to accept. I’m not someone who can give herself up for others. I’m selfish and cruel, I ran a gang with a man who ruined me.

People like us can’t love, sweetheart.

But somehow, I loved you. I loved your brother. I loved your father. Your father’s love for me was pure but it wasn’t enough. Nothing could have ever fixed me.

However, for the briefest moments, it felt like we were going to be okay.

I remember your twelfth birthday, when you cried because I’d remembered. You looked so happy and you reached out to hug me. When I held you, I felt like I could finally be at peace. I could try to be the mother you two wanted, I could try to fix everything and forget my past.

Clearly I failed.

There was just too much I was running away from. It drove me insane and I took it out on my undeserving family. I’m sorry.

I understand if you choose not to forgive me.

It feels nice to get this all out somewhere. I hope you do read this.

Love,

Mom

Even then, you found yourself reaching for the next envelope.

As you read on, you found that the letters were getting less and less apologetic, and more instructive. Your mother had known you were going to be recruited by the gangs someday. She knew your aunt would come to the field too. She had seen it coming all along. She knew you’d fall for the leader’s son, a sick twist of history repeating itself, but perhaps for the better.

The only thing she couldn’t predict was the winning side.

But, she had left you vital information on being one step ahead of your aunt. Something that would be useful to taking them all down and walking away to start off fresh. Your mother proved to be of no use or comfort while she’d been alive, but with these letters, you grew to understand that perhaps she’d offered a lot that you’d missed.

When you got the last portion of the final letter, your eyes widened. A tactic move, the checkmate you’d all been looking for.

“Namjoon!”

You stuffed all of the other letters back into the box, lifting it quickly as you rushed out of the room to meet the startled leader.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” You handed him the letter. “It’s better than okay. My mom just told me how to take Ava down.”

Namjoon’s eyes slid over the words on the letter, eyes widening as he got to the end. He lowered the paper and met your gaze, looking incredibly stunned.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” his voice was full of disbelief. “Your mother just gave us our checkmate move.”

previous  // next

[ellanainthetardis]

I HAD to, okay? So here’s wishful thinking of what I would like to see next time :p Thanks to @akachankami for the beta! {FF] & [AO3]

Chosen

Her eyelids slowly flutter open. There is a bad taste in her mouth and her body feels heavy. Something is wrong and, for a second, a terrible terrifying second, she’s unable to say what. She first thinks of damaged brains, seizures and strokes. Then her doctor training kicks in and she recognizes the symptoms for what they are. Drugs.

She remembers the sudden fog, remembers reaching for Jackson, remembers…

She’s lying on a couch but not the one she’s woken up on a hundred times before. This one is smaller and smells like dust and stale air. She can hear noises, the faint buzzing of people talking, walking, living, in the distance, behind walls and closed doors… The echoing noises of life in a sealed off space and, for another second, she pricks up her ears and listens for the familiar hum of the Ark’s engines.

She hopes against all odds this is just a dream.

She knows better.

The office is just as she has left it earlier, down to the brooding Chancellor standing in front of the desk. Marcus isn’t doing anything. He is just standing there as if he forgot what he was about to do. He’s staring into space. Too calm. Too sad. Too guilty.

She doesn't need to look for a clock, doesn’t need to make sure, because… She knows him too well. She looks at him and it’s the Culling all over again. That weight on his shoulders making him look that little bit smaller, that weight crushing him down and pushing him to extremes just so he could find his salvation.

You saved me.

That’s what she does, isn’t it? Save people. Fix people.

Or it used to be, at least.

He knows she’s awake just like she knows what he’s done.

But as long as she’s not moving they can pretend, remain in that limbo of not-knowing. It can last forever, really. Him staring at the wooden desk and her watching him. Forever frozen in a suspended breath.

She waits. She waits because she’s tired and she made her point clear and he had no right to take the decision away from her. She waits because she doesn’t really want to know what happened. She waits because she’s not ready to learn who didn’t make the cut.

He still doesn’t move. Coward, she wants to shout and it’s not her, not really, it’s the old Abby, the one from the Ark, the one who refused to compromise when it comes to human lives… Staying alive… Deserving to survive… They keep stumbling upon those two concepts as if it even makes sense, as if they have any right to call the shots… As if…

She sits up slowly.

Her legs first. Her feet touch the floor with a soft thud. She uses the back of the couch to prop herself upright.

“Clarke is safe.” he says without glancing at her. “She’s… She’s not here but… She's alive.”

She decides she’s in shock because the news just ripples and slides off her. Of course, Clarke isn’t here. She played at being a Mountain Man and that’s her punishment: being estranged from Clarke again.

Five years is a long time to be estranged, a voice whispers.

I probably won’t be alive in five years, another answers.

She ignores them both, forces herself to forget her nightmarish vision of Clarke…

“What happened?” she asks.

“Their rover broke.” he explains, still staring at the desk. “They have a plan. You won’t like it but…”

“What happened?” she interrupts. She will ask about Clarke later. She is alive and that will have to do for now.

Marcus lets out a deep sigh and finally turns to her. And here it is, the pain in his eyes, the weight making his shoulders slouch, the souls of hundred of people crushing him down. “They were going to fight the Grounders. It would have been a slaughter. Jaha and I used gas to knock everyone out.” He licks his lips, averts his eyes. “They were probably still asleep when…”

He adds it as an afterthought, a small mercy, but he cannot even finish his own sentence.

“When the death wave hit.” she supplies slowly, brushing her hair back to rub her face. “I slept through the end of the world.”

“Not the end.” he corrects in a whisper.

“Not for us maybe.” she snaps and immediately regrets it.

“It was the best way to save them.” he almost pleads. “The only way.” They already had that argument, she wants to point out, a hundred years ago. “Abby…”

“I know.” she says because she does. She understands. There is no good solution and they are not good guys. They cannot be. Not when they are the ones who choose. “Why am I here?”

And that’s the real issue, the one he has so obviously been dreading to address.

He has the nerves to look unapologetic as he crosses his arms in front of him, forcing her to look up at him instead of taking a seat to level out the height difference, looking every bit like Chancellor Kane and nothing like Marcus.

“We used Clarke’s list.” he states. “Your name was there.”

She studies him and then shakes her head, refuses to think about who might not have been on that list. “I told you what I wanted. I told you…”

“And I told you no.” he cuts her off.

She doesn't even try to curb her anger before it brings her to her feet. There has been salvation to be found in leaving her spot to someone else and he has robbed her of it. He has robbed her of her chance to right her wrongs, to save lives instead of…

“Who do you think you are to tell me what to do with my life?” she hisses. “Who do you think…”

“I’m the man who loves you.” he spits right back, striding toward her with some anger of his own - or maybe it’s just pain, it’s hard to say. He grips her shoulders tight, tight enough to bruise. “I’m the man you love. That’s who I am. And you don’t get to quit on me, Abby. We do this together.”

“You don’t understand.” she accuses. “The things I did… The people I sentenced to death just because…” Because of him. She didn’t open the doors because it was the right thing to do, she opened them because he was out there and she was done watching the man she loves agonizing on the other side of an airlock. Her motives were selfish. Purely selfish. And there must be a price to pay for them. There must be… “We have to answer for our sins. We…”

He tugs her into a brutal hug before she can finish her sentence. His left arm sneaks around her waist, his right hand cradles the back of her head and it’s all she can do to cling back, melt in his embrace and wonder if salvation feels as good as this…

“Not like this.” It is a harsh whisper in her ear. “That’s not the way to redemption, Abby.”

“Someone else could have lived.” she argues.

“Two of them could have lived.” he counters against her hair. “I told you. Together. Together or not at all.”

He would have come with her. He would have walked through that door into fire with her… Of course he would have.

“But they need you.” she protests, drawing back to glare at him.

“Exactly.” he shrugs. The tears in his eyes tell her it would have been much easier for him too if staying outside the bunker had been an option. “They need me. And I need you. And maybe… Maybe that's how we make sure we deserve to survive. We acknowledge the sacrifices. We never forget. We come together. We find the way out of the dark.”

She cups his cheek, closes her eyes and leans in again. He bows until their foreheads are pressed together.

It reminds her of another time. A time he begged her to let him go to his death and she refused.

They’ve never been really good at letting the other sacrifice themselves.

“I’m out of hope.” she confesses softly.

He presses his lips against her brow in a long peck. His beard is soft against her skin and she aches for him because she loves him too much and she’s not sure they can afford it, she’s not sure they should when they’re responsible for taking decisions that kill a lot and save a few.

She can sacrifice a lot but not him. Never him.

And that quiet certainty pulsing under her skin makes her think about Jake and the guilt just keeps on piling…

“Salvation comes at a price, Abby.” he reminds her, bumping his nose against hers, brushing his lips against her mouth. “It will get better. We need to have faith.”

“Do you have faith?” she asks in this kiss that isn’t really a kiss. He used not to. She remembers him scoffing at his mother and dismissing the tree. She remembers his disappointment after Pike was elected. She remembers the dark moments after ALIE.

“I have faith in our people. In humanity.” he whispers. “I have faith in us.”

“I love you.” she answers.

And she’s not young or naive enough to believe it’s everything but maybe it’s a start.

Maybe that’s where hope lies.

In the belief that there’s something worth living for.

[madisonsclarks]

Calling it Hope (3/?)

Summary: After learning some unexpected news, Abby Griffin struggles to hold the weight of the world on her shoulders while the man she loves remains in Polis. Trying to solve the various problems related to nuclear radiation is one thing, but keeping a secret from Marcus - at least until he returns - is another. A.K.A. -  the mostly canon-compliant S4 Kabby babyfic no one asked for, which I wrote at midnight one night and decided to continue. 

This chapter: Becca’s lab! Walkie-talkie conversations! Mutual longing! And, a surprise appearance from a member of the Abbykru squad who stumbles upon an unexpected secret. 

Part One        Part Two

Abby looked over at Jackson from across the white counter of Becca’s lab, craning her neck to get a good glimpse at him. Since they arrived on the island – or rather, since the drones attacked – he hadn’t been behaving the same toward her; he’d been courteous but short, kind but distant. Something was wrong, and for the life of her, she had no clue what could be bothering him.

His posture proved her right: he sat with his back straight, his fingers clashing with the datapad screen with more force than was strictly necessary. Her brain cycled through a thousand possible causes at once, rotating like a spinning top. Did he and Raven have an argument? Is he unwilling to experiment with Luna? Did the drones scare him? Does he wish he were still at Arkadia?

An angry Jackson was a Jackson wholly unfamiliar to her. Throughout their years of working together, she’d only seen him truly angered once: in the aftermath of her shocklashing. Any time before or since the closest he came was mild irritation, a few comments that landed and bounced and dissipated not long after they left his lips. The man sitting across from her was different than the man she knew, a stranger, and she had no idea how best to approach him.

Her stomach flipped, but for once she didn’t think she could chalk it up to pregnancy-induced nausea. Then, a new cause dawned on her, one that she thought might be a little more probable: does he think I shouldn’t be here?

That, she thought, was unfortunate but unavoidable. No matter where she went, she’d be in danger. If she stayed at Arkadia, she’d be in danger from black rain and radiation sickness. Here, the only danger had been the drones. Comparably, it was far safer here than remaining at home, where food was low and morale was slowly sinking lower.

There was no way in hell she wouldn’t be here, and she hoped her assistant would understand that. But sitting across from him like this – clearly upset about something – was impossible for her, his obvious emotions shattering the tranquility and excitement she’d felt upon entering the lab. She wouldn’t be comfortable here until she found out what was troubling him.

“Jackson?” she said, doing her best to keep her voice normal, flat, as though she hadn’t spent the past five minutes trying to figure out what Raven could have said to him to squelch his mood to the equivalent of dry dirt. “Is everything all right?”

He swallowed hard and looked away from his microscope, slid the datapad to the side a few inches so he could lean on the table.

“Abby, I…I’d like to talk to you about something,” he said, his tone falling somewhere between nervous and angry. Oh. “It’s about today. The drones.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about them,” she said, making a valiant effort to be reassuring. She often forgot she and her assistant hadn’t had the same number of brushes with death, and an experience like that might scar him but leave her only with a paper cut. “Raven reprogrammed them all. They’re harmless.”

“I’m not worried about them,” he corrected her. “I’m worried about you. About what happened with you today.”

Shit.

She’d been hoping with every fiber of her being that he wouldn’t bring it up. When she ran out in front of the drone to save him – rather, to distract it so he could be saved – she’d been acting on pure instinct, on a bold mixture of desperation and adrenaline. It hadn’t been responsible or practical, and there was a laundry list of reasons she shouldn’t have done it. For one thing, she was their best doctor. Both she and Jackson knew that, and they both understood there was no way to replace her.

And second…she was pregnant. Darting over rocks and between trees was something she might have felt nothing but justified in if her life was only her own, but now…now, with a second inside her, a child more dear to her than the breath in her lungs…it might have been more reckless than she’d given thought to. That was just the thing: she hadn’t been thinking. She’d been worried about her assistant and unsure how to solve the problem and frightened and emboldened and her feet moved before her brain could stop them.

“Abby, please don’t do that again,” Jackson said, his voice taking on a note of gentle pleading. “I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself for me. If anything happens…you have to let me go.”

Abby took a deep breath, counted to ten while she tried to think of something to say back to him. There was no way she’d be able to sit back and watch as killer drones aimed bullets at the man who’d been by her side for years. There was no way she could stand on the sidelines and just ‘let him go.’

“I wasn’t trying to sacrifice myself,” she said instead, opting for a safer response: one that might end the argument before it had a chance to begin. “I wasn’t intending to get shot, Jackson.”

“But you could have been,” he said, all pleading gone. “And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if it happened.”

She was quiet, suddenly fighting a pang of guilt that had been growing in intensity since the drone clattered to the forest floor.

“Abby,” Jackson continued. “You have to survive this. And not just because you’re our best doctor. You and Kane – you’re giving us hope.”

So it was about the pregnancy.

“Us? Have you told anyone?” she asked, immediately wondering how much Raven Reyes knew. And if Raven knew, then there was no telling who else might have found out. Jackson, I know how you feel about her. But couldn’t you have kept this quiet?

“No,” Jackson said, and Abby breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “But if you did…you and Kane would be giving them something to hope for. A sign that there’s supposed to be life after these next two months. I think it’d help people.”

“Or they’d say it was stupidity,” Abby said. “An unfortunate case of implant failure.”

“I don’t think so,” he countered. “Everyone knows how much you care about each other. For this to happen now, with everything else…I think they’d see it as a miracle.”

Abby stared at him, rummaging for words that lay in a jumbled knot on the tip of her tongue. That was almost exactly what Marcus had said the night she told him: that Vera would have said it was a miracle. Unfortunately, not everyone in Arkadia was as saintly as Vera Kane.

“I’ll think about it,” she said simply, hoping her tone would put the subject to rest. Jackson wasn’t quite done.

“It’s up to you if you want to break the news,” Jackson said. “But please, Abby, don’t step in front of any more drones for me.”

She wanted to say she couldn’t do that. She wanted to say she could. Her hand traced over her stomach, to the tiniest, barely-there bump that promised life after the world’s death.

Her lips remained shut, her gaze found the floor, and Jackson got the hint.

Apparently assuaged by letting the cause of his trepidation out into the open air, her assistant began rattling off his findings. He had isolated the elements they needed to synthesize the Nightblood, but he was having trouble getting them to bond: a difficulty he said they could tackle the next day, once they’d both gotten some sleep. Abby only heard half of his words, a topic that had been bothering her for the past few days steadily bubbling to the surface of her thoughts.

“Jackson,” she said. “Can I ask you something about the elements you found?”

“Of course,” he said. “I can tell you all of them, if you want.”

“I don’t need you to do that,” she said. “I just…would any of them…”

She took a deep breath and readied herself for what she was about to say, the implications that would rattle her world if the answer were affirmative.

“Would any of the ingredients be harmful to a fetus?”

Jackson appeared stunned by her question, his green eyes widening a fraction as her words tumbled across the table and seemed to smack him. He returned his gaze to the datapad screen, scrolling over and over again, his lips mouthing what she guessed were ingredients. After several minutes, he looked up at her with relief.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “None of the ones I’ve isolated tonight would cause side effects. If anything, it only makes it extremely likely your baby would be a nightblood.”

Abby felt her shoulders slump, a weight lifted.

“Thank you, Jackson,” she said, and she was treated to the sight of his familiar, and highly welcome, smile.

“You’re welcome.”

They worked on in silence for a while, only talking to ask each other to hand over slides and datapads. Raven stopped in for an hour, sitting on the ground level and working with one of the computers there. Abby looked down at her when she needed an energy boost, smiled when she thought of how far the girl had come. After so much suffering, she was truly in her element here.

A noise sounded from downstairs, shattering the tranquility of their workspace. She heard Raven talking but didn’t pay it much mind: they’d figured out early on that the computers were voice activated.

After a few moments, Raven yelled up to them.

“Hey, Abby! It’s Kane!”

An electric thrill ran through her whole body, warming her and leaving her cold all at once. Though they’d been together for a few months, her excitement at talking to him never seemed to stale. If there was one person she knew she could count on to listen to her, care for her, be there for her…it was Marcus Kane. Distance lay no claim on the intensity of her feelings.

Her cheeks reddened when she realized she’d forgotten to let him know she’d arrived at the lab. They had talked earlier in the day, promising each other they’d stay safe, and he had asked her to let him know when she made it to their destination. But so much had happened – so many obstacles had been placed in their path, and then the overwhelming enticement of the lab had rendered her common sense useless for a few hours as she pretended time wasn’t passing – in the shuffle, she’d lost her promise to the man she loved.

“I’ll be right down,” Abby said, her heart racing. She had made a promise and then broken it. Practically sprinting down the stairs, she stepped off the final rung with enough force to send shockwaves of pain radiating through her body. In five steps, she was at Raven’s desk.

“No, she’s here. She’s fine. She’s fine. Here, she can talk to you.”

Raven made a face, practically shoving the walkie into her hand.

“Your boyfriend was really worried about you,” she said, then turned back to her computer.

Abby clutched the walkie to her chest, holding in the button to let Marcus hear her voice.

“Marcus, it’s me. I’m okay.”

The voice on the other end was tight, as though his lungs hadn’t quite let him breathe fully for the whole day.

“Abby. Thank God.”

Hastily, she looked around for somewhere private. They’d found some sleeping quarters earlier that day – likely used by Becca’s team of scientists – but they were further underground and she didn’t want to risk losing the signal. Her gaze finally fell on a hallway in the far corner, and she decided walking down it would get her far enough away from Raven and Jackson that her words would evaporate before reaching their ears.

She walked away slowly as to not look desperate, knowing fully well that would result in merciless teasing from Raven later. But she couldn’t quite keep her steps casual, her breathing even. It was hard enough to be away from him again, but knowing how worried he’d been about her…her chest ached with guilt.

The hallway offered refuge enough, dimly-lit with the same scientific, glowing white light that bathed the rest of the compound. As soon as she reached the end of the corridor, she sunk to the ground and rested her back and head against the wall. Comfortable enough.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, hoping that starting their conversation off with an apology would be enough to salvage the rest of it. “It was a busy day, and we started running tests. But I should have remembered to contact you.”

The other end was quiet for a few moments, static rushing through on the other end. Then,

“I was worried about you.”

Abby leaned her head to rest against the walkie, laying one palm flat against the cool tile. The temperature gave her something else to focus on besides her fraying nerves.

“Were you in danger?” he asked, his voice coming through as a mixture of static and concern. Her heart leapt in her chest, and even the floor couldn’t save her now. Whether to lie and assuage his nerves, or to tell the truth and risk him being even further concerned…she felt sick.

“A little,” she said, memories of the drone and the forest and her boots on the rocks flooding back to her. Her heart began to pound with a resolute firmness, as if determined to fully return her to the moment where she might have perished. “We lost two of our men. Smith and Allen.”

Static, again.

“I wish I were with you.”

He sounded so broken, so directionless, that she wished she could step through the flimsy connection and pull him into her arms. He knew, of course, that she had to be here – that there was no other way – but that knowledge wouldn’t make it easier. Especially now that he understood the danger of the island, how death had breathed down her neck today.

“Me, too.”

They were quiet for a few moments, hearts filling with heaviness and longing.

“Everything’s okay now,” Abby said, desperate to make him understand she was out of danger. Arkadia couldn’t have their Chancellor serving as a man distracted, and Marcus couldn’t do his duty if his head and heart were with her instead of their people. “They were drones, and Raven reprogrammed them. They’re harmless.”

When he spoke again, he sounded relieved. “All right,” he said. “But you’re out of danger? You haven’t run into anything else?”

“No,” she said, relieved to be able to give him good news for once. “Inside the lab, everything’s fine. We’re making good progress.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. She could hear a smile in his words, see the softness in his eyes. “And you’re okay…?”

He hadn’t said the words, but his tone spoke them louder than he ever could have.

“I’ve thrown up once,” she said. She had meant it as a positive – after all, she’d been gone for two days – but Marcus, being Marcus, didn’t immediately view it that way.

“Have you talked to Jackson?” he asked, concern worming its way back through the tinny speakers. “He might be able to give you something for it. Abby, I’m so sorry, I should be there with-“

“It’s nothing to be worried about,” she reassured him, unable to keep a grin off her face. “Marcus, I had morning sickness when I was pregnant with Clarke, too. It was worse than this. I can handle an upset stomach from time to time.”

She heard his sigh of relief over the airwaves. “Oh. All right.”

Briefly, she wondered if she should have given him a heads-up on other symptoms she was likely to be experiencing as she progressed. Morning sickness wasn’t the only thing she’d encounter, and if he reacted to everything like he reacted to the news of her vomiting…Marcus Kane would likely spend the next eight months as a walking, frazzled ball of stress and tension.

Now wasn’t the time, she thought with chagrin. When they saw each other again, when he came to the lab, she could spend an evening briefing him on the various stages of pregnancy and the major side effects that came along with each one. She could imagine it now; laying next to him in bed, his arms securing her to his chest, telling him exactly what not to panic over. If I’m suddenly not sleeping, if I throw up in the morning, don’t run to Jackson.

“If anything feels wrong, I’ll let you know,” she said. Even with the flub today, she hoped he could still take her at her word. For now, everything felt fine – she even felt a little better than she had when she was at this stage with Clarke.

“And you’ll let Jackson know?”

“And I’ll let Jackson know.”

Relieved, he laid the subject to rest. “How’s the lab?”

Abby gave a true, wide smile. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “It’s so much better than anything we had on the Ark. Some of the technology…I’ve never seen it before. It’s just what we needed.”

“Good,” Marcus said. “Maybe we’ve been given a stroke of luck.”

“Don’t tempt fate,” she said, grinning. “You’re inviting things to go bad.”

She heard him laugh, a sound that filled her heart with joy. “Or we’ve become so jaded we don’t believe they could go our way.”

Abby shrugged, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “I guess we’ll find out.”

She paused for a moment, waiting for him to respond. When he didn’t, she asked the next question that had been on her mind.

“How are things at home?” she asked.

Marcus understood what she was really asking, the words that lingered in the pause after her question.

“Clarke’s fine,” he said. “We’ve had a rough day, but it’s nothing we can’t manage.”

A rough day?

“What happened?”

Static, and she sensed he might be reluctant to answer. After all, he hadn’t freely offered up information about his life in the past few days.

“Well…the kids found out the Ark can only save 100 people,” he said slowly, as if sensing she’d need time to absorb the information. She did – her ears began ringing and sweat sprung to her palms. Only 100?

“Certainly there’s been a mistake,” she insisted. “I’m sure there’s a way we can keep everyone inside the station.”

“Abby…” he sighed. “The data was accurate. I looked it over myself, and Monty explained it to me. Clarke made a list of the people she would save, but-“

“Clarke made a list?” Abby snapped, raising her eyebrows as she stared into the white light flickering above her. Who did Clarke think she was, to play God in such a firm, decisive way? Why would she do that? How could she live with herself, saying certain of their people deserved to be saved and sentencing others to death?

“She did,” Marcus said, “but Abby, it doesn’t matter now. We aren’t-“

“Marcus, it does matter,” she snapped. “She can’t tell people their lives are worthless.”

“Abby,” he said, sounding just as exhausted as she felt. “She’s doing her best. What she had to do weighs on her. This wasn’t a choice she would have made if she saw any other way.”

Abby closed her eyes, willing the corridor to stop spinning and the ringing in her ears to cease. Clarke’s position as a leader had certainly forced her to make hard choices, but this…this felt like the bombing of TonDC all over again.

“I can’t believe she would do something like this,” she whispered, all the air feeling as though it’d been pressed from her lungs.

“Abby,” Marcus said, his voice soft even with the harshness of static blurred in. “There was no other way. It was a backup plan, and we won’t be using it. It wasn’t a choice she made for herself: it was a choice she made for her people.”

It occurred to her, fleetingly, that Marcus might understand her daughter better than she did at times. Though the idea of making a list made Abby want to vomit, Marcus appeared to see it as an awful necessity, a cross for the young leader of their people to bear. And now, apparently, the solution had been useless.

“You’re not using it?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Thelonious convinced everyone to hold a lottery instead.”

Abby couldn’t even think about the lottery without her chest constricting, without her vision blurring at the edges. What if she were selected, but not him? What if Clarke didn’t get picked? How could she ever bear to say goodbye to the two most important people in her life?

“We won’t need to go through with it,” he reassured her. “The Nightblood will work. It worked for Luna, and it’ll work for the rest of us.”

More than anything, she wanted him beside her. Fully aware of how girlish and insecure she might sound, she let the question that had reverberated inside her with every beat of her heart fly free into the open air.

“Do you know when you’ll be able to come to the lab?”

He sighed – it translated as shuffling white noise. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

It wasn’t good news, then.

“Abby, I have to go back to Polis,” he said, effectively shattering her heart with a single sentence.

“Why?” she asked, doing her best to compress the lump in her throat. She knew he wouldn’t go back without good reason, but knowing their reunion would be pushed back even further – that she might not see him for weeks instead of days – it was enough to make saltwater cloud her gaze.

“Bellamy and his hunting party haven’t come back,” he said, “and they should have returned this afternoon. We aren’t experiencing any of the radiation symptoms, which leads me to believe-“

“Grounders,” Abby finished for him. “You think Azgeda took them?”

“I don’t know who might have them,” he said. “But Roan might be able to offer some guidance. Force the captors to give them back. We can’t do this without Bellamy.”

The edge in his voice didn’t escape her, and she was reminded that Bellamy Blake was much more than just a soldier to Marcus. He was the closest thing he had to a son, and not knowing where he was likely consumed him with worry and grief. Her yearning for him seemed petty now, unimportant: he needed to find Bellamy first.

“As soon as I’m back from Polis, I’ll go to you,” he said. “I promise. I want to be with you more than anything, but-“

“You need to find Bellamy,” she said, forcing her words to come out in a flat, even tone. “Marcus, I know how much he means to you.”

He was quiet for a few moments, and she wondered if there was something he wasn’t telling her. She was too tired to press him for details, but trusted him enough to give her what she needed to know.

“Abby, do you know how much you mean to me?”

Taken aback by his directness, it took her a few moments to think of a suitable response. Her free hand drifted toward her belly again, and she rested it across her stomach as she spoke.

“Of course I do,” she said.

She heard his voice shaking even with the interference of static and distance, his words tugging her heart back toward Arkadia, through poisoned waters and dangerous forests.

“You mean everything to me,” he said. “Everything. And I can’t – being away from you, being away from our child…I haven’t stopped thinking about you for a minute.”

Suddenly, she was thankful the hallway was empty and far away: this was exactly the kind of discussion that Raven would have mocked her for.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you, either,” she admitted. “I miss you, Marcus.”

“I miss you too,” he breathed.

And suddenly it was too much.

The mental image of him sitting alone at the metal table in his room, Chancellor of a people who were terrified of the future and restless in the present, ambassador to a nation that had little love for Skaikru…a few tears dripped down her cheeks, and she took her finger off the button so he wouldn’t hear her sniffling.

They’d been so lucky, to get those nine days in Polis. Yet they’d been a blessing and a curse, a backhanded compliment, because they’d also allowed her to fall into a kind of routine they both knew couldn’t last. They’d let her live in a kind of beautiful, hazy dream, where there was nothing to come between them but the day’s few necessary duties. They’d let her fall asleep in his arms and savor the sound of his breathing, let her snuggle into the warmth of his skin and memorize the feel of him, the taste of him, the sound of his voice when he spoke words only meant for her to hear.

They were blessed, they were cursed, they were falling apart and holding each other together.

It was a beautiful nightmare in which they lived.

“Are you there?” he asked, and she wiped a few stray tears from her cheeks.

“Yes,” she said, not trusting herself to say more.

“I love you,” he said, and she noticed his voice shaking with more than just the unsteady connection. “And I’ll be with you as soon as I can. I promise.”

She nodded. “I know. I love you, too. Promise me you’ll stay safe in Polis, Marcus.”

That might have been a little hypocritical, she thought, coming from a woman who stared down a killer drone to keep her assistant safe. But there was no reason to worry Marcus about that now – not when Bellamy might be in danger.

“I will,” he said. “You stay safe, too.”

A loud noise sounded from his side of the conversation, and Abby jumped although she knew it was far away.

“What was that?” she asked, concerned.

“Thunder,” he said softly. “It’s a thunderstorm, but it’s not black rain. We’re okay here.”

He remembered the night it had rained in Polis, how frightening she found thunderstorms. Logically, she knew there was no reason for it – it wasn’t as though anything in the storm would hurt her – but thunder was loud, and there was never any warning it was coming, and she couldn’t prepare for it until it was there. It was like riding in the Rover; it was statistically unlikely that anything bad would happen, but there was always a nagging voice in the back of her head that filled her with doubt.

Thankfully, Marcus hadn’t used her irrational fears against her. He’d simply let her curl up with him in bed, gathered her close, stroked the smooth skin of her back and reassured her until the storm passed. Then, once it was over, she’d rolled on top of him and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him, poured every inch of her gratitude into the ferocity with which their mouths collided.

Her fingers twitched on the soft swell of her belly, and she smiled.

“Get some sleep, Marcus,” she insisted. “We can talk again tomorrow, once you’ve arrived in Polis.”

“I’ll radio you once I’m settled,” he said. “It’ll probably be around sunset.”

“All right,” she said, the corners of her lips turning upward into a tiny smile. “Good night, Chancellor Kane.”

She heard him chuckle again. “Good night, Doctor Griffin.”

And with that, the radio went silent.

Abby stared at it for a few moments longer, waiting for a correspondence she knew wasn’t coming. They’d talked plenty long enough, and it would do them both more good to return to their work than continuing to spend the evening with each other. And yet…the second his voice dissipated into the thin laboratory air, a hole opened in her chest.

She sighed, held the radio to her heart with one hand and placed the other over her belly.

Then she jumped, sensing movement at the end of the hallway.

“Who’s there?” she said, all her worst nightmares springing to life at the sight of a shadow shuffling around the corner of the corridor. Instead of retreating, as she hoped it might, the figure stepped into her view.

Only John.

Her shoulders slumped with relief as she took in the familiar sight of the boy, banished her dark fears to the back of her mind. There was no reason to be worried – for all they’d seen, the lab was safe. There were no phantom dangers lurking around the corners of hallways, waiting to snatch her in the shadows.

Her heart sunk as rapidly as it had risen, sinking lower as she took in the expression on his face. John regarded her with a mixture of surprise and a slow-dawning comprehension, his blue eyes betraying something he’d never admit was concern.

“How much did you hear?” she asked, thinking it best to get the most important question squared away first. If he knew, she’d need to swear him to secrecy. She and Marcus didn’t want this getting out – not that John would broadcast it around the lab or back to Arkadia – and they needed to take precautions to make sure this secret stayed just that. A secret.

John continued staring at her, his lips pulling into his trademark smirk.

“Enough,” he said simply, unmoving. Now it was Abby’s turn to stare, dropping the walkie to her side as she approached him.

“So, you heard that-“

“You got knocked up.”

Abby flinched at the callous term. Although it was true – she’d certainly done that – the expression felt offensive, carrying a negative connotation where she and Marcus considered her condition a blessing.

That said, she was in no mood to allow John Murphy into the innermost workings of her thoughts, in no condition to allow him access to her considerations about her condition. How she felt about the timing of their situation, she’d keep to herself. And the father of her child.

“I can trust your discretion, then,” Abby said, now only a few feet away. She paused at a respectable distance, resisted the urge to scream. She’d chosen this spot for its privacy, but apparently even in the lab nowhere was truly isolated. It felt as though no matter where she went, someone would be listening.

“You haven’t told people?” John asked, a note of surprise turning up the end of his sentence. It occurred to her, then, that John hadn’t entirely meant to eavesdrop. He’d been eavesdropping, certainly, but there was every chance he’d stumbled upon a secret he hadn’t meant to hear.

And now, he was likely a reluctant holder of the information closest to her heart, entwined with her every heartbeat.

“Not yet,” Abby said, wishing she could speed up the process, get him to tell her he wouldn’t say anything and go about her night. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be a possibility.

“Holy shit,” John said. “You’re pregnant, Abby, and you haven’t even-“

“Keep your voice down,” she growled, hoping the hallway wasn’t echoing back into the lab’s main chambers.

John came closer, closing the distance between them. Instead of standing in front of her, he leaned against the polished white wall.

“Does anyone know?”

Abby bit her lip, sweat threatening to pry the walkie from her grip. “Jackson and Marcus. And now, you.”

“Not Clarke?”

“No.”

He was quiet, staring off in the direction of the central chamber. The place where Raven and Jackson still worked in quiet solitude, solving problems while Abby felt the weight of her own crushing her slim frame.

“What the hell.”

It was quite possibly the least expected thing he could have said, right after ‘I’m happy for you.’

“What?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“You’re not gonna be able to keep this quiet forever.”

She clipped the walkie to the waistband of her pants, realizing it had come perilously close to falling from her fingers and shattering on the tile floor. When she looked back up at John, her gaze was steel.

“I know. But no one needs another distraction right now, John. I’m not telling everyone until we have a plan for our future, one we know will work. I’d appreciate if you did the same.”

He gave her a quick nod, and she felt her heartbeat slow to a steady, constant rhythm. For all the faults others saw in him, John Murphy had never been a bad kid. He’d found himself in horrible circumstances, emerged a product of the tragedies through which he had lived. But there was something genuine about him despite his history, something that convinced her he’d leave the secret where it best resided: between her, Marcus, and Jackson.

“You should tell Clarke,” he said abruptly, again taking her aback. What did John care about her personal life? Despite her reservations, she decided to humor him. “Come on, Abby. She’s your kid. You know her. She’ll be pretty pissed if she finds out you didn’t tell her right away.”

Abby gave a quiet, frustrated exhale. He had a point – Clarke would be offended if she found out Marcus and Jackson knew, but she hadn’t considered her daughter important enough to let her in on the news.

“I haven’t had time to have a talk with her about it,” Abby said. “Not to mention-“

She stopped, and John stared.

Her sentence had been going a place her brain had diverged from in mid-word, mixing I’ve been a little busy with we might not get to see her. Where was this pessimism coming from, and how could she expunge it?

“I get it,” John said. And from the look in his eyes, the flicker of fear he submerged behind casual indifference, she could tell he did. After all, she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t stand the thought of losing someone important to her.

“Tell me you won’t spread this around, John,” she said. Her voice remained low, her gaze boring into his. “It’s important to Marcus and I that what you heard stays private.”

The smirk returned. “And that’s why you were talking about it in the middle of a hallway? Very private. Great choice.”

Abby glared at him, and he stiffened a little.

“Fine,” he said, sounding resigned. “I won’t tell anyone you got knocked up. Happy?”

She smiled, feeling as though she could hug him. “Yes,” she said. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Abby felt ten pounds lighter as she turned to leave, shifting the walkie from her waistband back to her hand. Crisis averted. Her steps felt less weighty, as though gravity itself had relinquished its pull on her.

John stopped her by calling her name once she was halfway to the lab, freezing her in her tracks. He kept his voice quiet enough that his words wouldn’t reach the lab: they barely survived long enough to reach her ears.

“If I were you, I’d tell Clarke.”

[a-forlorn-soul]

A Wanderer’s Tale - Entry 1

“Shite,” he swore under his breath as he ducked behind a partially collapsed wall.

“Ah think t’e fucker went dat way!”

“Well then go and get him you moron!”

“Ya can go an’ fuck yerself,” came the grumbled response before footsteps started making their way down the ruined hall.

All he had wanted was to search through some of the floating ruins of Nym to try and find an intact aethercell, that was all. Instead he was now skulking as best as he could to avoid being spotted. It was just his luck that he had managed to stumble onto a bunch of smugglers using the decaying keep as a place to store their goods. For the moment he just hoped Faran was okay where he had left the bird. The chocobo was his only way out of this mess after all, so if he wasn’t alright he was definitely in trouble.

Loki’s eye narrowed when the sounds of the approaching steps were nearly on top of him. The air around him was shimmering from his attempt at using a glamour spell to hide himself, but that wouldn’t help if they could hear him. “Ah coulda swore he went dis way…” the smuggler grunted in confusion, “Fuckin’ ‘ells, t’e boss ain’t gonna be happy.”

Still muttering under his breath the smuggler continued down the ruined hallway allowing Loki to let out a sigh of relief once he was out of earshot. He was safe for now, but he needed to get moving quick. Releasing his hold on the glamour he peaked out from the pile of rubble he had ducked behind to scan his surroundings. Thankfully it was clear that he was completely alone for the moment, not that it was likely going to remain that way for too long.

In one hand he clutched his pouch tightly, holding close the find he had made before stumbling onto the smugglers. The other kept a firm grip on the hilt of his modified sword. “If they are goin’ to be lookin’ for me… mayhap I can just scale down the outside wall rather than tryin’ to make it out through the ground floor,” he whispered to himself in thought.

Darting down a darkened hall he started to wind his way through the ruins for the roof. Every so often he had to duck back into the shadows to avoid those still searching for him, probably out of fear that he might turn them into the Maelstrom. A smirk tugged at his lips each time he gave them the slip since that was his plan. Still, the constant use of glamour spells was proving to be taxing after a while and was slowly draining his aether reserves. If he didn’t get out of there soon it was going to start getting ugly. He was so close to safety too, just a little bit further and he’d be free.

“I must say you’ve given my men quite the workout. Impressive indeed.”

His eyes went wide at the sound of the voice behind him before spinning around to face the speaker. “Who are ya?!” he demanded as he drew his blade from its scabbard.

A soft chuckle answered him and a tall figure stepped out of the shadows. Dark skinned and dark haired the Duskwight used his features perfectly to his advantage in the near pitch black corridors. Only his violet eyes cut through the darkness to give him away. “It matters not. All that does matter is that you won’t be giving our storage area away to the Maelstrom,” the Elezen stated.

“Stoppin’ me ain’t gonna be as easy as ya think,” he shot back.

“Is that so? Good, it would be a pity if you didn’t at least put up a little bit of a fight.”

A snarl escaped Loki at that and he fell into a readied stance, though he held his ground. “If that’s the way it’s gonna be, then let’s get to it.”

“My my, so impatient. There’s no need to hasten to your death,” the head smuggler taunted.

Darkness fled from the hall as a blinding bright blue light poured forth from the pieces of Allagan technology fused onto his blade. Aether coursed through the weapon even as his knees bent to start lunging towards the Duskwight. There was no thinking anymore at this point, it was all instinct and it told him that the man was trying to stall for more time. He wasn’t about to give him that time.

This whistling sound is what saved him from being struck head on, and yet his reckless charge had cost him. An arrow had been fired from the darkness beyond the Elezen and tipped through the leather armor protecting his thigh. Not only did this bring his charge to a halt but it also left him wide open, not to mention the fact that he had extremely poor footing now. Even as he attempted to correct this the lead smuggler exploited the advantage by quickly pulling out a pistol to fire off three rounds at close range.

White hot pain lanced through him as he only managed to deflect one of the bullets with his blade, causing it to lodge itself in the stone wall. Blood flowed freely from the two gunshot wounds that he took in his side. Despite this they didn’t let up on him at all with the hidden archer firing off an entire volley of arrows. Though he was able to deflect these with a lot more ease than the bullets it still pushed him back further until his back was pressed up against the wall. He was trapped.

“All that talk, and for what? You’re a rat in a trap, nothing more,” sneered the Duskwight without closing the distance, “It seems stopping you was easier than corrupting a Brass Blade.”

To everyone’s surprise Loki laughed. Through the pain he managed to not only keep himself on his feet but actually smirked back at the man. “I ain’t dead yet ya fuckin’ idiot,” he retorted.

“You are far too stubborn for your own good. Oh well… might as well make sure we get rid of all the evidence.” As those words left the Duskwight’s mouth he snapped his fingers to signal someone.

From the side he could feel aether being gathered by someone still lurking out of sight, and he knew it was about to get even worse. Flames roared to life as the mage finished off his spell, launching a blazing sphere down the corridor towards Loki. There was little time to even think, let alone form anything intricate to protect himself. With a grunt he poured as much aether as he could through his blade to create a blast of his own in the hopes of canceling the fire spell out with an equal force.

The combined force of both explosions ripped the aged wall to shreds to create a blast that could be seen from malms away with the outer wall now falling. Thrown to the floor rubble now covered Loki as he tried to recover from it, and by the sounds of it the smugglers were in no better shape for the moment. It took him a bit but he eventually forced himself up to his knees before he could even hope to take stock of the countless injuries he likely had now. After all everything hurt to the point he couldn’t distinguish the individual injuries now.

About the only thing that he was certain of was that he still had a hold of both his sword and the bag of aethercells he was trying to get away with. Smoke and dust continued to cloud his vision as he looked around. It wasn’t until light started to break through the cloud that he realized that he had lost his eye patch in the explosion. The sudden blinding light of the evening sun was already a big enough surprise for him, since he hadn’t expected to destroy an entire wall, but the fact that his right eye hurt from the light caught him completely unawares.

‘Wait,’ he thought to himself in the confusion, ‘My eye… it’s reacting to light.’

The fact that he could see light out of his right eye would normally have been an amazing revelation, yet for the moment all it was doing was hindering him from focusing on the task at hand. Clenching his right eye shut once more he tried to instead turn his attention back to the smugglers who were now finally finding their feet once more. A reprieve was all that he had gotten, he was still trapped in the keep with them unless he found some way to scale the wall without them noticing.

“Fuckin’ ‘ells boss, do ye think ye can keep Marzaza from blowin’ us ta t’e Seven ‘ells?” came the voice of one of the smugglers.

A cough answered the man until the Duskwight’s throat was clear enough to speak. “Believe me if he didn’t die from his own spell he’ll wish he had.”

“Good cause if ye didn’t ah was gonna fuck ‘im up meself.”

“It’s not my fault!” A third voice called out, “The rat did something to try and counter me.”

“We’ll talk about that later, just find out if he’s still alive or not,” the leader demanded in an exasperated voice, clearly not happy with the turn of events.

Since it was still difficult to see in the settling rubble Loki still had time to think, but not much. Nor did he stand a chance in taking them all on at once. At least not in his current condition or with the fact that he was completely out flanked right now. There was only one thing he could think of to get out of this, but to say it was risky would be the world’s largest understatement. ‘Guess it’s time to see how much Rhalgr loves me,’ he thought to himself with a light scoff.

A shrill whistle escaped him in an attempt to call Faran. While this gave him away to the smugglers it was his only hope of living. Well that along with what he had planned next. He took his blade up into both hands and held both of his eyes shut, he needed to concentrate. Summoning every ounce of aether he had left to give he channeled it through both blade and the rings that he wore. The Allagan pieces strained under the force of the aether, not quite being designed to handle what he was doing. With the pressure rapidly increasing from the force of the spell he was forming it would soon reach a breaking point unless released, and even then it ran the chance of backfiring on him.

The sound of a boot nearby on the rubble served as the trigger for his spell. Some of the technology on his blade exploded from the force he unleashed, an explosion of pure white aether washing over the spot he was standing upon. It was a spell that he had never quite mastered even with the proper instruments, and now all he could do was hope that he unleashed enough force to cover his escape. Not to mention hope that he didn’t kill himself in the process.

‘It’s all down to luck now.’

It was the last thought that crossed his mind before the force of the blast blew him out of the keep to start hurtling towards the ground. He couldn’t even see straight let alone think now, everything hurt too much and he had exhausted every bit of strength he had left. Before he lost all consciousness he felt something soft, like a blanket of feathers, press against his face. Perhaps his gambit had paid off, though if it had he’d still need to avoid Nandin like the plague. For now he lost himself in darkness, hopefully to wake soon.