#i wanted to stay up later but then this revealed itself to be a Nausea one

[lycankeyy]

In the spirit of everything being epic tomorrow everyone please pray that my migraine is a one day thing thank youHSKAHDKAJSKQ /LH

[blog-name-idk]

Mold a Pretty Lie | 05

Pairing: professor!Jin x Fem undergrad!Reader

Genre: College!AU, Unhealthy relationships, toxic relationships, virgin reader, eventual yandere, eventual smut

Summary: They say love is like a garden that requires regular care and attention. Kim Seokjin, your kind and handsome professor, is more than happy to cultivate the vines that bind his heart to yours.

Word Count: 4,727

Rating: 18+

~~~~~

Seokjin was staring.

He knew it would be obvious to anyone looking, but luckily for him it was just the two of you in his office, and you were absorbed in reading an article. There was no one to call him out on the way his gaze was laser focused on you.

Or, to be exact, the bruise on your lovely, otherwise unblemished neck. One that looked suspiciously like it had been made by a pair of eager lips.

He didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit.

Who exactly had you allowed to mark your skin like that? Was it one of the boys who had gotten you drunk the first time? Did you go out with them again despite his cautionary advice?

Seokjin shouldn't care so much about what you did in your free time. This was probably a good thing - you would get over your crush on him, finish your project, and go on to do whatever great things you were sure to accomplish. The thought left a bitter taste in Seokjn's mouth. Despite his best efforts, his curiosity consumed him to the point where he found himself biting back suspicious queries he technically had no reason to make.

Several days later, the question answered itself. The bruise was almost gone, faded to an imperceptible hue that he could only see because of how intently he studied you when you weren't looking. No new ones had appeared to replace it, and Seokjin found himself relaxing. Perhaps it was just a one-off. You were young, it was likely you had just had a careless lapse in judgment, or -

"[Y/n]!"

Seokjin watched your head swivel, and the way you smiled at the handsome boy in the doorway made his own stomach clench into a hard knot. Why were you looking at this boy the way you looked at him?

"Aw Tae, you didn't have to come all the way here, I'm just finishing up," you said happily, though you spared an apologetic glance at your professor that did nothing to dull the thorns pricking his chest.

He recalled that this was one of the boys from your group project - Kim Taehyung. Who had taken you out and gotten you drunk, and was now smiling at you in a way that set Seokjin's teeth on edge. And you were calling him Tae. The two of you were close enough for nicknames?

"Hey Dr. Kim, great lecture yesterday! I'm just here to take [y/n] off your hands," said Taehyung with a sincere, boxy grin that Seokjin wanted to rip off his face. Seokjin forced himself to give the student his usual carefree smile before he pretended to review the paper he had been grading, feeling an inordinate amount of irritation filling his veins.

Take you off his hands? You were his research assistant. This Taehyung was just some college kid who was clearly distracting you from your studies with his charm and good looks. Was he the reason you had been leaving on time these days rather than staying around to chat after hours? Was he the one who had left that taunting mark on your neck?

"I could have met up with you at your dorm," you said over your shoulder as you logged out of the computer. Seokjin tensed. You had been to this boy's dorm? Bitter tendrils of darkness began to twine themselves around his chest, shadows made longer by the bright glow of your smile.

"But I wanted to see you sooner," the boy said with an obnoxious pout. Jin wanted to roll his eyes, but it was clear Taehyung's comment had had the desired effect, because the flustered look you sometimes wore around him appeared on your face. Couldn't you tell this kid was just trying to get in your pants?

"You're impossible," you scolded, though the way you beamed at him revealed your true feelings. Something akin to nausea simmered in Seokjin's gut at the eager way you grabbed your bag and scurried to Taehyung, and when the boy wrapped an overly familiar arm around your waist his vision flashed red.

He leaned in close - too close - to whisper something in your ear, and your soft giggle added fuel to Seokjin's irritation.

"I'll see you tomorrow, professor!" you chirped happily, letting Taehyung usher you out the door. By the time Seokjin could reply, you were gone, leaving behind a mass of angry vines in his chest.

He stared unseeing at the paper on his desk, unable to keep his mind from wandering to what the two of you were doing. You said you were going to meet him at his dorm - were you… going to stay there? Alone? Would you show up to his next lecture with a new hickey to replace the one that was almost gone?

A loud crack broke Seokjin out of his spiraling thoughts, and he looked at his now ink-covered hand to see he had snapped his pen in two. He let out a frustrated growl and tossed the broken plastic into the trash before stalking out of his office to wash his hands.

Why was he so fucking irritated? You two were college students. College students hung out and flirted and hooked up all the time, it was normal.

But you, you were anything but normal. You deserved the best, not some barely post-pubescent child who didn't know what they were doing. Your smiles were too precious to be wasted on boys like Taehyung, your laugh too dear. Judging by what he had seen today, you seemed to be completely smitten, liable to get your heart broken by a boy you were far too good for.

Vines constricted around Seokjin's chest as he remembered your tear-stained face so long ago, the quaver of your voice as you tried not to cry. He couldn't let that happen again.

He rounded the corner and stopped short, the scene before him searing itself into his mind with infuriating acuity. You, backed against the wall, wrapped in Taehyung's undeserving arms as he kissed you. You, pretty fingers threaded through Taehyung's hair as his tongue invaded your mouth. You, sighing in a way that made Seokjin's blood run hot as Taehyung's hands drifted down your lower back.

"Ahem."

As soon as you registered the awkward throat clearing, you broke away from the boy and stared at Seokjin with utter mortification on your face.

"P-professor," you stammered, hands immediately scrunching at your shirt in an anxious fidget. You were slightly breathless, and Seokjin tried not to be distracted by the way you chewed your lower lip. It was already swollen from your… activities… and your teeth were only making it more apparent. "Uh, w-we were just - "

"Sorry Dr. Kim," said Taehyung cheerfully, clearly feeling none of your embarrassment. He took your hand in his, blissfully unaware of the fury brewing under his professor's skin. Seokjin was struck with the sudden urge to break the fingers currently lacing their way between yours. "We'll get out of your hair."

The boy tugged you away and you left, meeting Seokjin's eyes with a backwards glance that looked almost as agonized as he felt. He realized he was grinding his teeth, jaw tense as he stared at your retreating form. Was Taehyung taking you somewhere to finish what he'd started?

The thought of that pretty sigh of yours popped into his mind unbidden, and he swallowed hard as his hand clenched into a fist. The stickiness of the drying ink reminded him of what he had come out here for in the first place, and with a sigh he went to the bathroom.

Seokjin watched the ink run off his skin down the drain, but the image of your body pressed against Taehyung's refused to disappear.

~~~~~

"H-hi, Dr. Kim," you stammered awkwardly, hovering in the doorway like you had at the beginning of the semester. "Um, how are you today?"

You kept your eyes fixed on his chest, unable to bear the possibility of seeing judgment or disappointment marring your professor's handsome features.

Why had you let Taehyung kiss you like that not a minute after leaving the office? What started as an innocent peck turned into two, then three, to more soft kisses that had made your knees weak and your chest fill with warm honey. Before you knew it, you were pressed between the wall and his body, surroundings forgotten.

Of course someone would come across you, and of course with your luck it was the last person you'd pick. What must he think of you now?

"I finished the first draft of the research paper," you babbled, not letting him respond to your question as you shuffled into his office. Maybe if you never shut up, he would forget he'd seen anything. "I think it - "

"Relax, [y/n]."

Your professor's voice, full of its usual good humor, cut off your panicked ramblings and you looked up to see his familiar smile. Your shoulders sagged in relief, and you gave him a tentative smile back. Until he motioned for you to sit across from him at his desk rather than the separate table you usually worked at.

You obeyed with trepidation, sinking into the chair and doing your best not to die of embarrassment.

"I'm really sorry about yesterday," you began preemptively, feeling heat prickle your neck as you remembered your professor's shocked face. "I shouldn't have - "

"It's alright, [y/n]," Dr. Kim's soothing voice cut you off again. "You're an adult, and you weren't disrupting a class."

He trailed off, and you looked at him in confusion. If he wasn't upset with you about that, then why did he want to initiate a discussion? You ignored the prickle of your own disappointment at the fact that he didn't seem to care at all that he had seen you kiss another boy.

Dr. Kim cleared his throat, looking uncharacteristically hesitant as you looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain what he wanted to discuss.

"Before I go on I'd like to say that this topic isn't strictly appropriate to discuss, but I feel it's important because I care about you as a person in addition to being my student," your professor began, and you felt your stomach flutter at the bare suggestion that he might see you as more than just a charge he was guiding.

"Not… appropriate?" you asked faintly, shoving down the thrill his words sent down your spine. You were overthinking, like you always did.

"That boy - Taehyung - is he your boyfriend?"

You blinked, completely caught off guard by the question. That had not been what you were expecting.

"N-no, not… yet?"

Your reply was pathetically tentative, and you hated yourself for your inflection. Taehyung was certainly sweet and affectionate, but there hadn't been any discussion about feelings or relationships. But that was normal, right? The two of you were getting to know each other better, and since the party he had been showering you with affection.

The slight furrow of your professor's brow said something different.

"I don't mean to pry or overstep, but isn't that the same person that got you drunk the night before my lecture?"

Dr. Kim's words sent hot flames of shame licking at your cheeks, and you shifted self-consciously as you found your eyes drawn to a scratch on his desk. How did he remember that? And why did you tell him about it in the first place? You ran a finger along the grooved wood and nodded, because your throat felt too constricted to speak.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, I'm just concerned," he said quietly, reaching across the desk to put his hand over yours. Your professor's touch was gentle, and he gave you a reassuring squeeze that sent warm tingles through your veins.

"Um, I don't intend to let any relationships interfere with my schoolwork or research," you offered, as it was the only thing you could think of that he might worry about. It was hard to think rationally when you were distracted by his soft skin and the fervent hope for your hand not to start sweating.

You peeked up at him to see a fond smile on his face, soft and sweet and dangerously close to daydreams where he'd smile at you for other reasons. His eyes caught yours, and for a moment you found yourself captivated, unable to look away.

"Of course not," he replied with a chuckle. Then he hesitated again, looking at you with so much concern you felt your insides melting.

"I know it's not my place, I just don't want to see you get hurt or taken advantage of."

Huh? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because those plump lips twitched again into a rueful smile.

"You're a beautiful girl, [y/n], anyone can see that, and I worry that your… friend's intentions aren't completely pure."

You were vaguely aware that you were staring, but it was taking all of your mental capacity to process the words that had just tumbled out of your professor's lips. Did he - did he just say you were beautiful? Not pretty, not hot, but beautiful?

Before you could spiral completely, the end of his sentence nudged your mind.

"Taehyung's not - he's not like that," you said uncertainly, though doubt began to poke at your chest. He was always openly flirty and affectionate with everyone - had you made a mistake thinking you might be special? Dr. Kim squeezed your hand again, and the sympathy on his face made you feel both giddy and shy.

"I saw Taehyung speaking privately with Miss Lee last Monday," he said simply, grip tightening on yours as your face fell. "I'm not sure what it was about, but it looked... somewhat intimate."

"W-what? But…"

That didn't make any sense, Taehyung and Lee Yoojin weren't friends. You had never even seen them speak to each other. Yoojin had even been a part of the group of girls that had made your first few weeks hell for monopolizing the boys' (and Dr. Kim's) attention. And Monday? That was after the two of you had kissed, after the two of you had started - as Phoebe would call it - "hanging out."

Then again, even if it was true, it wasn't like Taehyung was technically doing anything wrong. He hadn't promised you anything, even if his actions had led you to believe that what you had was something special. Maybe you were just being too hopeful, overly clingy when he just saw this as a fun way to pass the time.

It still stung.

You didn't want it to be true, but Dr. Kim had no reason to lie to you, no reason to stick his unnecessarily perfect nose into student drama. You looked down on the grain of his desk as heat prickled your eyes, too distracted to notice the way your professor's own gaze flickered to the way you were chewing your lower lip.

Dr. Kim pulled you out of your thoughts by nestling your hand between both of his, and you felt your face grow warm despite the way your thoughts were racing.

"I'm sorry, [y/n], I didn't mean to upset you," your professor said apologetically, looking worried at your silence. It was an odd sensation, to be both dejected and embarrassed by his revelation but still feel delight from his touch. "I just thought you should know."

"It's okay," you mumbled, wondering why he always had to see you at your lowest. Even if it was gratifying, the way he looked out for you when he didn't need to. "I just feel like an idiot."

Your breath hitched when his thumbs began rubbing distracting, light circles on your skin, and you looked up at him in surprise. He was smiling at you, so much sincerity in his dark brown eyes that you could feel more of those flowers blooming in your heart.

"Don't say that," Dr. Kim said firmly, apparently oblivious to the way his touch was making your mind and pulse race. "You're a lovely person, both inside and out. If he doesn't see that, then he doesn't deserve you. And it's just your first year, there's no need to rush into anything in any case."

There it was again.

Lovely. Beautiful. Did he really think that? He couldn't know that every time he spoke, his sweet words wrapped around your heart in a knotted mess you had no desire to untangle.

"Thank you," you managed bashfully, hoping he didn't catch the breathless quality of your voice. "I - I know you have a lot more important things to do, so you taking the time to talk to me about this is - I just - um, I really appreciate it. It means a lot."

"I've already told you, there's nothing more important than your well-being."

And there was another seed in your chest, sown as gently and carefully as each stroke of his thumb against your skin. Your professor's words were a balm against the wound of his earlier revelation, soothing the humiliation and making you feel lighter than you expected.

"You're going to give me a big head," you giggled, smiling at him and hoping your admiration wasn't completely obvious. Dr. Kim looked genuinely pleased to have cheered you up, and for a moment you let yourself drink in twinkling dark eyes, his full lips, and inviting smile. For a moment, you let yourself pretend that he wasn't your professor, that he was holding your hand and calling you beautiful for another reason entirely.

Then a door slammed outside, shattering your illusion. The both of you jumped, and Dr. Kim gave a chagrined laugh before pulling his hands away. The moment was gone.

~~~~~

"[Y/n]! Want to get coffee?"

You forced a smile as Taehyung bounded up to you after lecture, Jimin following after with his usual cheeky grin. As you finished packing up your bag, your eyes met Dr. Kim's, and you felt your heart skitter. You couldn't quite decipher the expression on his face, but you assumed it was worry, considering the news he had given you a few days before.

"Um, I actually have to get somewhere," you hedged apologetically, though the way Taehyung's face fell made your stomach churn a little in guilt.

"You've been so busy lately," he whined, looking at you like a kicked puppy.

You hesitated, especially when Jimin added his pout to the mix, before you glanced over their shoulders to see Lee Yoojin staring at you with narrowed eyes. Her cold gaze was enough to douse the ember of guilt that had appeared in your chest, and you suddenly felt a spark of irritation take its place.

"Actually," you began, deciding to seize your courage now before you could change your mind, "Tae, could I talk to you alone for a second?"

Jimin sighed, before shocking you by wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing soft lips against your cheek. "I'll let you guys be for now, but I'm not letting Taehyung monopolize you forever," he complained, making your own mouth fall open in surprise. What did that mean? He pranced off before you could answer, leaving you even more confused than ever.

Taehyung was smiling at you as if you were the only person in the room, but when you spared a glance to the front of the lecture hall and realized Dr. Kim was still watching. Had he seen Jimin's kiss? You hoped he didn't think you were being stupid, or that you were ignoring his advice from earlier.

"Let's get that coffee first," you sighed, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. Your friend's eyes brightened and he grabbed your hand like he'd been doing recently. You felt like it would be too awkward to refuse, and you let him lead you out of the lecture hall, wondering if you were imagining the sensation of eyes boring into the back of your head.

You stewed in your thoughts as the two of you walked to the cafe in the student union, oblivious to the way your silence put a glimmer of concern in Taehyung's eyes. He paid for your coffee despite your protests, and as soon as you sat down at one of the rickety tables he took the chair next to yours, letting his knees brush against your own.

"Is everything okay?" Taehyung asked, and you took a bracing sip of your drink before meeting his gaze. You had made a split second decision to talk to him about what was going on, but you had no idea how to broach the topic.

"What were you talking to Yoojin about last Monday?" you blurted before you lost your nerve, internally berating yourself for sounding like a jealous girlfriend. Tae's eyes widened, and his next words only made you feel worse.

"How did you hear about that?" he asked in surprise, looking uncharacteristically nervous. Your stomach dropped at his expression, your mind already racing to the worst possible explanation.

"Does it matter?" you asked with a frown, not missing the implication that he didn't seem to have intended to tell you. You looked down, playing with the edges of your coffee sleeve so you didn't have to keep looking at him. "I just - I know we're not anything, but I thought…"

"Um, she wanted to… uh, start hooking up," Taehyung mumbled. "Like we did at the beginning of the semester. But I said no!"

"What?"

You felt odd. Fuzzy. Hazy. Like it was someone else sitting there, trying to understand what was happening.

"Jimin and I… we hooked up with her at the beginning of the semester," Taehyung explained nervously, and something icy settled in the pit of your stomach. Both of them?

"At… the same time?" you asked faintly, taking another gulp in the hope that the warmth of your coffee would help thaw the cold feeling inside of you. It didn't.

It wasn't so much that they'd done something wrong - it was that you had no idea, and apparently Taehyung had had no intention to tell you. Why? Was it because he thought it would lessen the chances of… of doing the same with you?

Taehyung cleared his throat awkwardly, his cheeks tinged a faint pink that you would have found cute at any other time. "Uh, yeah. And separately, too. But it was before we met you!"

"Oh."

Another frigid shard pierced your chest as you remembered Jimin's words and actions earlier. They had both always been flirty and affectionate, but… was this just a thing they did? Had their end goal been to eventually have you in their bed? Would you then be discarded for a newer model like apparently Yoojin had?

"Is that - is that what you want from me?" you asked, unable to keep the hurt from your tone. "Is that all this is?"

His eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically, taking your hand in his own. You pulled it away.

"What?! No, of course not," he said in a rush, looking a little desperate at your action. "[Y/n], I really like you."

A few days earlier those words would have made you elated. Now, you weren't sure what to feel. What if he was just saying that to appease you?

"So what was that Jimin said about you 'monopolizing me'?" you asked flatly, crossing your arms as you waited for Taehyung's response. He wilted at your tone, and you hardened your heart against the effect of his devastating puppy eyes.

"He likes you too," he mumbled, looking worried about your reaction. "But he'll drop it if it makes you uncomfortable!"

Uh. What? This was officially too much for your brain and heart to handle.

"I… I think I need some time," you finally managed, wondering what kind of alternate reality you had found yourself in. How exactly had you gone from invisible to… whatever the fuck this was, in just a few months?

"I - yeah, okay," said Taehyung reluctantly. He looked so dejected you found yourself wanting to console him, especially since he had been nothing but sweet to you. But this was all new territory, and you didn't want to blindly believe in someone you had just met a few months ago.

You didn't hate him - you couldn't, and he really technically hadn't done anything wrong. And he was being honest now that you'd asked him point blank, which you appreciated. It would just take some time to soothe the cracks in your chest, and think about what you wanted without being influenced by pretty eyes and stolen kisses.

"We are still friends though, right?" Taehyung asked anxiously, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes that were so difficult to resist. You felt your smile grow into something more genuine, cautiously optimistic that he seemed to want to be friends even without the option of something more.

"Of course, Tae. I'll let you know if - if anything changes."

The relief on his face was palpable, and for a split second you wondered if you had misjudged him and the situation. But then a familiar set of broad shoulders at the counter caught your eye, and you remembered your professor's words.

"You're a lovely person, both inside and out. If he doesn't see that, then he doesn't deserve you. And it's just your first year, there's no need to rush into anything, in any case."

Dr. Kim was right, there was no reason for you to rush headfirst into whatever this thing with Taehyung was - had been.

Your professor turned and you forced yourself to look back at Taehyung, feeling embarrassed. You especially shouldn't be pining after a man just because he was gorgeous and kind to you. And thought you were beautiful.

"I really do have to go to my next class now," you said apologetically, trying to reassure Taehyung by patting his head the way you knew he liked. "But I'll see you in lecture on Friday, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he replied, also standing up and giving you a relieved smile. His one-armed hug was comforting, a reassurance to the both of you, and as you watched him you felt another pang of uncertainty that you pushed away.

You let out a sigh, slumping in your seat, suddenly exhausted. Had you made the right decision? Or were you just being an oversensitive prude? Why couldn't these things just have a definitive, empirical answer?

A blueberry muffin plopped down on the table, startling you out of your musings. When you glanced up, Dr. Kim was smiling down at you.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his tone even softer than the expression on his face.

"I - I'm fine," you replied, shocked by your professor's intuition and consideration. It never even occurred to you that he might have been eavesdropping.

"Good," he murmured, his approving tone making your chest thrum. "I've been worried."

The words chased away the lingering discontent leftover from your conversation with Taehyung. Your professor cared, enough to check up on you and even get you a treat to cheer you up when he thought you were upset. You remembered the Powerade he had left you, and forced away the petals that stirred in your chest at the thought.

"I'm a big girl, professor," you retorted lightly, giving him a cheeky grin that surprised even yourself. "You don't have to worry so much."

Dr. Kim's laugh was light and free, cheering you up even further.

"Too late," he teased back, those plush lips of his curved into a wicked grin. The sheer playfulness of his response almost sent you reeling, but you were able to gather yourself enough to give a good-natured eye roll.

"I'm not that helpless, am I?" you asked almost petulantly, looking up at your professor with your best pout. To your surprise, his eyes went wide and he stared at you for a moment before responding.

"Apparently not," he replied with a slight cough, looking oddly disconcerted. For some reason, the tips of his ears had gone pink. He wasn't getting sick, was he?

"Are you okay, professor?"

At your query, Dr. Kim straightened, though something in his smile was different in a way you couldn't quite place.

"Of course, [y/n], never better."

~~~~~

Next | Masterlist

Tags: @moonleeai @random-and-out-of-context @amenjiminsan @innebulae @lonewolfsinclair @seoqity @lilacdreams-00 @chowb @shescharlie @mazmaz30 @definetlythinkimanalien @seokjins-luigi @lucci-girl @xicanacorpse @bighitbabie @8loominghell @jung-nika-hoseok @staradorned @zealouslightcookiebasketball @kissme-ornot @dyhrbls @nabiolive

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 34

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L    Warnings: DARK THEMES, heavily implied domestic abuse (the Black family) A/n: I’m editing this in a restaurant rn. Nobody can say that I’m not committed! Anyway, if there’s more errors than usual, it’s bc I’m on mobile. Sorry!

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 34: Secrets of Our Souls

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

Meet me at our place at midnight. Be careful. Make sure nobody follows you.  R.A.B

Y/N read the letter several times before folding it in half while her eyes glazed the crowd of students in the Great Hall in search of Regulus.

A no-show.

Since the start of the term, she’d been trying to get hold of Regulus but her attempts were futile. He was as finicky as a shadow, never staying still long enough for her to grasp, to spot.

Everything about his inconspicuous disappearance and the peculiar letter left her deeply unnerved. He'd even gone as far as using a different owl to respond to her letters; not the usual Black family owl.

In many ways, Regulus was mysterious; highly unusual — dare she say frightening.

“Oh!” Marlene exclaimed. “A secret admirer?”

“Give it back!” Y/N said indignantly as Marlene pried the letter from her hand, unfolding it. Before she could read the contents, Y/N nearly tackled it out of her grasp, snatching it back while Marlene pouted. “It’s private.”

Continuing to sulk, Dorcas smiled at Marlene. From between the sliver of space from under the wooden table and their bodies, she watched as Dorcas held Marlene’s hand; thumb grazing over her knuckles. Y/N eyed them questioningly.

“What are you not telling us?” Dorcas mused, leaning on the table with a sly smirk.

Marlene snapped her fingers. “Oi! Ginger snaps!”

Lily peered over, smile vanishing, placing her fork down. “Did you just call me a…?”

“Would you prefer traffic cone then?” Mary teased.

“I like Carrots more.” Dorcas added, shyly.

“Anyway, you two are pretty much attached,” Marlene said. Had she known better, she would have recognized Marlene’s tone for jealousy. "Who sent that letter?”

Lily shrugged but her face turned downwards at her uncomfortable body language. “She said it’s private. Leave it.”

The conversation ended at that.

Y/N felt a little nudge under the table and as she looked up, Lily’s head was tilted, conveying the silent question, ‘are you okay?’ She didn’t answer as a couple of first years bounced up to Marlene, tugging down on her sleeve. She turned to them, flicking her blond hair out of her face with a wide smile.

One first year was close to tears, another one standing on their tippy-toes to whisper something in her ear.

“Please can you come to the common room? It’s scary and I-I miss my dad!” One of the first years cried out.

Marlene cooed, hugging them lovingly. With a nod, she stood and pressed a kiss to the side of Dorcas’ cheek. She managed to make it seem like she was whispering in her ear before turning back to the group. “See you tossers later!”

Dorcas watched Marlene walk away. First years jumping, hanging off of her while Dorcas’ fingers grazed the spot on her face where she kissed her. She dazzled radiantly.

Before midnight, Y/N left her dorm, heading to the Marauder’s room and knocked on their door. She vaguely heard footsteps approaching before it opened.

She smiled before she could even register it. “Moony.”

He grinned widely. “Whiskers,” Remus said pleasantly, leaning against the door frame, his hair falling slightly over his eyes. “How may I help you?”

“Seeing you has already helped a lot.” She joked while Remus blushed madly. She laughed at his reaction. “I need to talk to Bambi.”

Remus had his eyebrows raised but opened the door wide and beckoned her in.

She noticed a bed pushed far to the left, isolated from the other beds. The curtains were almost nearly closed aside from the sliver that was still open. Black was there, book in hand with a few pieces of parchment laid surrounding him. He was already looking up at her.

They truly isolated Black from them in every way possible.

“Oh hey, Y/N.” Peter smiled before throwing her a small wrapped sweet her way. “Greetings!”

“Thanks, Pete!” She caught it. And dropped onto James’ bed. His glasses were strewn, laying on his bedside table as he flicked through his book.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Do you mind if I borrow your invisibility cloak tonight?”

James surprisingly didn’t push further as he simply went through his trunk and threw her the cloak, only asking that she would be careful with it.

She hopped out of the room, rushing out to the cold corridors and threw the cloak over her head. As she passed through various hallways, she finally opened the door to her and Regulus’ small hideout. A couple of candles were lit and the familiar Slytherin and Gryffindor blankets clashed together.

Huddled in the corner of the room on the couch, small and curled with his legs pressed against his chest and chin perched on his knees, Regulus was there, shaking.

She rushed up to him, keeping her hand visible and only touching him when he realized it was her. Consoling people was always a challenge in itself.

“What happened?”

Regulus’ voice was strained and tired. “C-can you hug me? Please?”

Her heart could have shattered as she roped him into a large, crushing hug. His aching sobs crashed through her chest. Y/N’s arms were tight around Regulus, his head face pressed against her shoulder and she could feel his tears seep through her shirt. Doing the best she could, she soothed him, petting his hair.

She couldn’t tell just how much time had passed until Regulus’ snuffles calmed down as he harshly wiped his tears. It was the first time she was able to truly get a close-up of how he looked.

To put it lightly, Regulus looked like shit.

Any of that regal, youthful glow of his diminished. And she realized it only faded whenever he went home. His skin was dull and grey, eyes sunken. Even his long hair was cut lopsidedly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

“I… It’s…” Regulus trailed off, face full of worry and trouble. “It’s…”

“It’s okay,” she rubbed her hand up and down his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me.”

But something caught her eye. Regulus’ trousers rode up in his shaking state. A large bandage was wrapped messily on his leg. The skin around the bandage was red and a few scars peaked out. But as soon as she realized, he had too and quickly pulled the fabric down.

“... What is that?” She asked softly. She didn’t know what it was, but something heavy sunk in her chest — the feeling of sickening, frightening dread.

He refused to answer.

“You have to get that checked out —”

“No!” Regulus shouted, complete panic filtering through his face.

“Whatever that is, it isn’t going to heal properly if we don’t.”

Regulus debated for a while and she saw the conflict on his face before relenting. “I’m embarrassed by it…”

She mustered up any kind of energy left and smiled. “I won’t judge you.” She managed to catch his eye and held it. She went over her options quickly.

1. Leave Regulus?

Option one was already tossed out the window. The weight of the situation was far too grave to continue to let it slide by again and again.

2. Press further?

But how?

3. Make him feel comfortable?

Bingo.

If he was ashamed by his scars, then maybe if she showed hers…

She turned to Regulus, lifting her sleeve. A scar ran across her forearm from Snape’s attack during the Quidditch match.

“I got this a couple of months ago in a nasty fight.” Then she pointed to the small scar on her leg from when she was dragged by Moony. "I got this from an accident."

But then, she sucked in a deep breath, mustering up all her bravery and courage, pushing down every bit of insecurity. She tugged down the collar of her shirt a bit, just enough to reveal the top of a much more faded scar that travelled down to her sternum. “And I got this from a heart surgery.”

She fixed her shirt to sit properly again. “I was born with a heart defect. It went undetected until my mom found me, hardly breathing and had to perform open-heart surgery on me. I was supposed to die but here I am. Healthy and alive and I haven’t had a problem since.”

Regulus looked up at her wide-eyed and his body became less stiff.

“I used to be so… ashamed of it. Maybe I still am, I never talk about it… Only you, my mom and someone at Ilvermorny knows. But my point is, I am more than my scars, and you are too.”

She swallowed her fear, now cursing herself and resolved to shut up. Waiting, she wondered that since she showed him the scars that perhaps he would too.

Regulus considered her, almost astonished, finally moving to pull up his trousers and peeling off his bandage, wincing while doing so.

It felt like a cold bucket of water was splashed all over her body. She desperately tried to keep her face blank as the overwhelming urge to cry while combating the wave of nausea hit her.

His skin was butchered — fiery red. They weren’t neat, like what a surgeon's scalpel would be like, but messy, crisscrossed and viciously deep. It had hardly healed and they were old enough to be a little over a week or two old. And undoubtedly painful.

Whoever did that to him was enraged, furious.

“Shit… Regulus… who did this?” She asked quietly, more to herself than him as he remained silent. She stood, commanding, “We need to get you fixed up.”

“It’s not that b —”

“Stop lying.”

“Just don’t take me to the hospital wing.”

Wanting to know more, she was too afraid that any more prying would result in Regulus completely shutting down and withholding more information. Instead, she picked up the invisibility cloak, threw it over him and wrapped an arm underneath Regulus' arms to help him walk out of the room.

She went to the only other place she knew she would be able to offer any resemblance of help.

Once reaching the Potions classroom, muttering Alohomora, Y/N helped Regulus sit down comfortably at one of the extra tables and immediately got to work. All sorts of magic went around as she grabbed an extra textbook and flipped to the Essence of Dittany page.

Shelves, jars and cabinets opened and closed on their own accord, all taking ingredients as they fell into a boiling cauldron.

“What are you doing?” Regulus questioned, nervously drumming his fingers on the table.

“Making you something.”

It was still between them. She didn’t know what to say, only what to do. Everything went through her mind like a step-by-step process, like a robot categorizing its own emotions.

Because what was the right response to something like this?

She stared at the bubbling cauldron, slowly stirring to avoid eye contact. “You don’t have to tell me but… you didn’t do this to yourself —”

“No,” Regulus said, calmly and steadily.

“Then… to the person — people who did… will they bother you again?”

“Probably not… I’ll be okay.”

It wasn’t the answer she was hoping for.

Once the potion was completed, she poured it inside an applicator and made sure to cast a quick cleaning spell. A soft blue glow emitted around his leg until disappearing. She looked up to him, fisting his shirt and shoved it inside his mouth. “I’m sorry, this is going to hurt.”

She took the applicator, pouring a couple drops onto his wound. A greenish smoke billowed around them as it bubbled on his skin. The skin was stitching itself back together and over his wound. Regulus moaned in pain, fist banging on the wooden table.

She finally pulled the cloth from his mouth once down and ran across the room to find more clean clothes to dab off the sweat from his face. Y/N thought for a second he was going to faint.

“I’m so sorry Reg… Sorry…”

He didn’t say anything for a while, only nodding in response meanwhile she monitored his condition. She gave him the wrapped candy that Peter gave her, hoping that it would help him regain some energy. She was beginning to grow worried that she might’ve brewed it incorrectly as her mind mulled over possible counter potions.

“I know… you said... you don’t talk to my brother much…” Regulus croaked out. She closed the book, rushing up to him. “But... you are in the same friend group… right?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek. A white lie wouldn’t hurt.

“Things changed. We’re friends. Why?”

There was a long pause. “Is he okay?”

A million questions went through her. Even if they were estranged, wouldn’t he know?

“He’s okay.” Lie. “He’s just been… stressed as of late.” True.

“Is he still staying with the Potter’s?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, eyelids drooping but everything about it told her something wasn’t right. “I’m glad.”

Regulus refused to let her help him walk back to the dungeons and left with his wound almost fully healed. And she was left with more questions than any answers as she slithered into bed.

What was he not telling her?

But then she thought about the summer with Matthew. Why had he been so surprised that she had been with a member of the Black family? Or how did he even know them? What was it about them that commanded so much respect and international recognition?

A couple of footsteps padded her way and Y/N felt her bed dip, a weight sliding beside her.

“Are you okay?” Lily whispered. “Been worried about you these past couple of days.”

“Yeah,” Y/N said, turning to the side to look at Lily through the night. “Jolly.”

“You sure? It can be our secret?”

She remained quiet and it gave Lily her answer. She turned onto her side before mumbling. “Feel free to stay tonight.” When she didn’t feel Lily leave, but she wiggled around to become comfortable, she sighed, forcing herself to sleep.

There was certainly far too much happening in her life at the moment for her to fully care about Lily’s bizarre and avoidant behaviour. She just wanted the next day to come.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

The next few days were uncomfortable and Y/N was beyond exhausted.

Breakfast was nothing more than her sipping on a glass of water, studying the Slytherin table, worried for Regulus.

Was he being bullied? Was he… no… the wound was a bit too old for it to have taken place at Hogwarts.

She spent most of the day in the library, simply reviewing her Herbology and Advanced Potions textbook.

Much to James’ dismay, all the free periods they had in sixth year were due to the overwhelming work and increased difficulty in lessons. Fortunately for Y/N, Potions was partially a free class and she never had to worry about it aside from the essays. It was far too easy.

During class, she would figure out new techniques, tricks, but to her dismay, Slughorn had really enjoyed how both she and Snape performed together and often paired them up during potions. She hated to admit it, but there was a reason why Snape was a favourite student of Slughorn. He had talent. Although, he was in a permanently vindictive mood around her which made him even more unbearable.

The tip of her eagle-feather quill moved across the pages of the textbook and she pulled back momentarily to review her book.

Nightshade… Powdered silver… Stewed Mandrakes… Slughorn had said it helped werewolves… What if Remus —

“Whiskers! There you are!” James said, strutting up. He sat down on the couch beside her, both tucked away in the corner of the library.

She gave a little wave of her fingers before closing her book. James suddenly became slightly dejected at her reaction. She couldn’t force herself to put on a show.

“Something wrong?”

Y/N felt like there were no answers to everything that had been happening recently. Only if Matthew was there.

But James was.

“I need to ask you something.”

His head swivelled around to see if anyone with prying ears was listening in before nodding.

“Could you tell me about the Black family?”

She had never seen James go so rigid. His cheek hallowed as he chewed the inside of his cheek and waited for her to elaborate.

“I know I don’t talk about it but Regulus is a friend of mine.” She didn’t miss the way James stiffened further at that. “And he’s… worrying me. He’s… god, I don’t know what to say.”

James threw up a silencing spell, encircling them. “It’s okay, go on.”

“Regulus’ leg was butchered. I think he’s being bullied or it’s darker than that.”

James’ skin, which was usually a warm, rich look, seemed as if it paled, almost giving him a gray appearance. “Did he say anything about his family?”

“No. But he never talks about them. Is that the reason why Black stays with you?”

“Even with the non-existent respect I have for Black, I feel like I can’t tell you much,” James said and she understood why. “But the Black family — they’re fucking insane. Their Pureblood mania is probably one of the worst I’ve ever seen.” James took a moment to look at her reaction after mentioning blood purity. “He has a reason to be scared of them.”

“So you’re telling me that his family… they hurt him?”

James looked down, the gravity of their conversation finally hitting him. He took off his round glasses, rubbing his temples. “I’m not sure. Maybe? It was probably another Slytherin. His parents… love him — I don’t see them laying a hand on him. He didn’t mention running away? Did he?”

“No.”

She heard James curse under his breath as he grabbed his hair out of habit. “I’ll talk to him.”

“About what? You can’t tell him I told you, he’ll —”

“Relax. I won’t. I’ll ask him to move in with me.”

Y/N felt like she could faint there and then. Everything in her body felt wobbly, weak as she grappled with the idea of Regulus and his home life. Then Black… did he also go through what Regulus has been through? The thought made her sick.

James’ voice tugged her back to reality. “Promise me something.” She waited for him to continue.

“I know Regulus is your friend and that he’s going through a rough time but…” James struggled with his words. “But… be careful around him. He’s not much of a threat but his family is. There’s a reason why Black lives with me; no matter how angry, how much I hate him, I would never let him go back there. To them.

“The war is approaching and they have eyes all on Regulus — watching everything he does.”

Goosebumps covered her entire body. Everything James said sounded more like an underlying threat of sorts. She wondered if that was the reason why he refused to be seen with her publicly. “Are you saying that he’s a Death Eater?”

“No,” James responded briskly. “But it’s not to say his parents won’t force him to. If you knew his family, you would understand —”

Both students snapped their heads up from the figure slowly approaching them as James eased off the silencing charm.

Professor Elway was there, holding a large leather-bound book and a stack of parchment, most likely essays she had to grade. She only gave a small nod to James before smiling widely at Y/N which caused James to mutter something vaguely familiar that sounded like ‘favouritism.’

“Ms. L/N! How wonderful to see you!” Elway was enlivened. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh! Erm — thank you?”

Elway laughed, “Your work has been incredible! I’m very impressed.”

She felt James nudge her under the table.

“Oh!” The professor exclaimed. “There’s a Duelling club session tonight I’m supervising. I’d love to see you there?”

“I’m sorry, but we have a paper due in Transfigurations.” James helped, cutting in for her. She felt herself relax into her chair.

In no time, Defence Against the Dark Arts became Y/N’s favourite class and duelling was incredibly fun, but all she wanted to do was sleep. Perhaps another time…

Professor Elway gave a little sigh but nodded her head. “Then I’ll see you next session! Have a good day, Ms. L/N and Mr..?”

“Potter.”

“My apologies, Mr. Potter. Have a fine day!”

While they watched her leave, both students were left with a similar deep, icy trepidation that clawed at their soul and a single question heavy in their hearts.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost, translate or modify

[nothing-but-dreamy]

QUARANTINE

Pairing: FFXV!NYX ULRIC x MALE!READER

Words: 2.140

Warnings: fluff

A/N: @slowkib - here you go :) I hope you like it. Thanks for this request

A/N II: This is a loosely sequel to MESSAGES. So, if you wanna know how these two have met, you can catch up on it but it's not necessary :)

Synopsis: Yn got hit by a virus what means he and Nyx have to be quarantined. But Nyx finds a way to 'sweeten' the time for YN to recover quickly.

Nyx and YN were dating for a few months and so, YN’s sister was determined to meet the man who had stolen her brother’s heart like a thief with the promise to never give it back. She stayed over the weekend. Two whole days, all three had a lot of fun together. YN was happy to see how good Nyx and his sister got along and all too fast, the time was over again and YN’s sister had to go back home.

While Nyx cleaned up a few plates and glasses, he looked at YN who had a content smile on his lips even if he seemed to be a bit pale, “Your sister is nice. I like her.”

“I'm happy to hear that because she already loves you. She threatened me to treat you right or else she would ... Well… trust me, I wouldn't have a good life anymore.”, YN said and coughed softly.

Nyx blinked several times, staring at YN, disbelieving that his boyfriend, a skilled fighter and great soldier of the royal Kingsglaive, would be intimidated by his sister who was two heads shorter than he was, "You... She can threaten you? I mean, for real?", Nyx asked amused.

"Always had, always will. She might be younger and smaller than me but she can be a beast if she wants.", YN answered with a grin, remembering what kind of troublemaker she had been in their childhood.

"Good to know.", Nyx said grinning.

"Don't you dare to-", but YN stopped as a coughing attack prevented him from speaking further.

Concerned, Nyx laid his hand on YN’s shoulder, checking on him as he became even paler, "Are you alright?"

YN just waved with his hand, "Yeah, yeah", he said hoarsely, slapping against his chest, "I just choked on something.", he whispered.

But the next day, YN laid in bed, coughing violently and fighting with the full aftermath of the virus that held Insomnia in its iron grip for a few months. Obviously, without knowing it, YN's sister had been infected and now, he was the one with all the symptoms: fever, fatigue, muscle aches, headache, sore throat and nausea saying, the whole package.

While caring as best as he could for a suffering YN, Nyx did what the citizens were encouraged to do: he called a doctor, YN got tested and the result was clear: positive.

Nyx was tested negative but still, because they lived together, they had to be both quarantined for two weeks. As the next step, Nyx had to inform their Captain. Drautos wasn't pleased about the information that two of his men were out of service because of some ‘common cold’. As the Captain asked why they had to be both in quarantine, Nyx saw himself forced to tell the truth and revealed the relationship he had with YN. But, somehow, Nyx got the impression that the relationship itself wasn't the biggest problem rather the fact that the Captain had been completely unaware about it during the last months.

But because the Captain still wanted to have the upper hand like always, he sent Nyx and YN a big pile of documents and paperwork that got postponed because of the last battles. Nyx wasn't pleased about the boring 'office' work but as long as he and YN were quarantined, there was no way Nyx could say anything against it … or run away from it to fight a small, cozy fight against some demons which he would prefer more in this moment.

Luckily, YN recovered quickly and so, after one week, he was almost the old one. Almost. He was still a bit tired, was coughing and needed to rest but at least, he was fit enough to help Nyx a little bit with the paperwork. Especially, YN did it to prevent a raging war inside their apartment. While YN had been forced to stay in bed, he already had heard Nyx cursing while working.

First YN thought Nyx was just annoyed about the work itself but then, one afternoon as they sat together to work through the piles of documents, YN realized that Nyx wasn't just 'annoyed' rather, he was frustrated and even kinda aggressive.

"This stupid thing!", Nyx called out while pressing keys randomly on his PC.

YN raised his glance questioningly from his own PC and papers to look at the hero, who obviously got defeated by a bunch of wires and circuit pressed into a plastic case, "Everything's good over there?" he asked, grinning as Nyx slammed his whole hand on all keys he could find at the same time.

"Sure! Fuc- it works pretty wonderful!", he hissed through gritted teeth. Once again, Nyx pressed a bunch of keys he had no idea of their functions. As the PC finally just gave up and shutted down, Nyx leant back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose with closed eyes while sighing deeply, completely defeated.

YN tried his hardest to keep the grin out of his face but it wasn't working. Nyx heard the muffled sound of suppressed laughter and the moment he looked slowly up, his beloved boyfriend burst out with laughter. Even tears of joy were running down his cheeks.

Nyx gritted his teeth, "Good to see that you’re feeling better again. At least one of us has fun here.", he said annoyedly, standing up from the chair to look out of the window to become calmer again. It was cold, raining and all in all not the worst weather to be forced to stay inside.

YN felt guilty for laughing. He hurried over to Nyx and from behind, he snaked his arms around Nyx' waist, pressing a soft kiss on the outer rim of Nyx' ear, one of his weak spots, "Come on. Don't be like that. I didn't mean to laugh at you. It was just ... you fight against demons and whatsoever and then, you get defeated by a PC? Seriously?", YN chuckled.

Nyx scoffed, "I tell you, this thing has a will on its own. And it's mocking me. Besides, we're Glaives. We fight. We don't do 'paperwork'.", he said, quoting the Captain's words in a silly voice.

"So, what? You wanna disobey and ignore the Captain's order? Again?", YN asked amused, knowing how rebellious Nyx could be from time to time.

Nyx grinned, turning around in YN's arms and lying his own around his neck, glad that YN already had some color back in his face, "What shall he do? We're in quarantine. We're not allowed to leave this place or to invite someone in ... at all.", he said with a low voice.

YN raised an eyebrow, knowing this kind of mischievous glance already from the hero, "You have something in mind then?"

"Oh, yes. Indeed, I have.", Nyx nodded with a grin.

Ten minutes later, Nyx had collected everything he needed while YN just had watched him, sitting in an armchair. Nyx had prohibited him to do anything else than just waiting because even if YN felt better he was still stricken. On the other hand, Nyx wanted to have his idea as a small surprise. So, he collected all the pillows and blankets he could find and threw them into the living room which was quickly turned upside down. Nyx took some chairs, arranged them with the couch and had built something that represented a cozy fort. The couch was the fort's backrest. Chairs left and right were holding up the blankets while the carpet was covered with pillows and bed covers to make it even more comfy. As Nyx was done, he stepped next to YN, lying an arm around his shoulders, "What do you say?"

"That looks pretty perfect. You have done that before, don't you?", YN asked and looked up. There was already a melancholic smile on Nyx' lips.

"Yeah, I did this often with Selena. Mostly, when she was feeling sad or when she was sick. Then, I built one of these, stole some ice cream and cookies from the kitchen and then, we hid there the whole day. We were talking or watching TV until we fell asleep.", Nyx remembered, pulling YN closer to his side before he pressed a soft kiss on his boyfriend's crown while inhaling his scent to feed the painful memories with sweet new fuel to make them comfortable again.

YN enjoyed the affection with closed eyes, "So, you stole ice cream, huh?", he asked softly to light Nyx' mood up again. He was happy that it worked as he heard him chuckling.

"Well, stealing would mean no one knew about it. I'm sure our mother knew it. I mean, back then, as a kid, I felt pretty smart but now, I know that someone had to buy the things, so I'm sure she knew when we would build our little cave and prepared the sweets for us."

YN frowned. Everything was perfect except the fact that they had no sweets in the kitchen, "Shall we order-", but he got stopped as someone knocked at the door.

"Not necessary. I already took care of that, too.", Nyx said with a grin and went to the front door, opened it and came back with a paper bag full of stuff Crowe had brought after Nyx had texted her.

"What's that?", YN asked curiously, closing up on Nyx.

"Everything we need to get you back on track.", Nyx said grinning.

"But I'm already feeling better.", YN argued half-heartedly as he saw the colorful labels of the bag's contents.

"Yes, but 'better' is still not completely recovered. So, here, the ice cream will help you with your sore throat. Cookies are great in warm milk with honey to fight against the temperature of your fever. And the chocolate will just make you happy.", Nyx listed while pointing at the different items.

"And the gummi bears? Are they for my running nose?", YN asked chuckling, pulling out the bag of sweets.

Nyx snatched it out of YN's hand, "Oh, these are for me. At last, I need something to throw at you when you say stupid things again. Gummi bears for a running nose... never heard such a silly thing.", Nyx mumbled while rolling with his eyes and bringing the bag in the kitchen.

YN laughed, took his laptop and crawled into the pillow fort to get comfortable already while waiting for Nyx to come back.

Ten minutes later, Nyx appeared with a tablet which was laden with bowls full of ice cream, sweets and two mugs with warm milk. YN received the tablet, placing it in the middle. Nyx crawled next to YN's side before he closed the door made out of a blanket to enclose them with coziness. Pressing on a switch, a chain of light went on which was installed around the chair and illuminated the fort in a soft warm, romantically light. Nyx leant against the couch with his back, raised his arm to give YN the space to cuddle against him, using Nyx' upper body as a pillow.

YN was just about to start the movie he had picked out on Netflix as Nyx got a call on the headset he had still in his ear out of habit. Cursing under his breath, he answered the call, "Yeah? Hey, Captain. Yes, we're still in quarantine. One more week, that’s correct, Sir. Yes, he's feeling better but he's still not recovered completely. He still has to rest.", Nyx answered the Captain's questions. To underline Nyx' statement, YN coughed slightly.

Nyx had difficulties to keep the amusement out of his voice and nudged YN's side in revenge because the coughing was so badly acted, "What did you say, Sir? Oh, yeah, the paperwork. We're working on it. Yes, at this very moment, we're sitting in the living room and looking at the screen. Yes, Sir. Alright. Good da- huh, he hung up already.", Nyx said with a smirk, taking the headset out of his ear to lay it aside where he wouldn't notice it at all for the rest of the day.

"You lied to the Captain.", YN stated with a smirk.

Nyx looked him in the eyes while shaking his head, "No, I said the truth. We're in the living room, looking at some screen. The paperwork can wait. First, I want to make sure that you're fit again.", he breathed before he kissed YN softly, "And now, we should hurry with the ice cream or we will have just soup left."

"You could put some gummi bears into it to keep the consistency- hey!", YN called out as a gummi bear hit his hand.

"I warned you.", Nyx said grinning before YN cuddled back against Nyx' side, the best place in the world to recover from whatever virus there might ever be.

[inkweaver22-blr]

Phew! Here’s chapter 15!

I’m not sure how I feel about this one so let me know what you think!

AO3 Link

<Previous | First | Next>

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Fifteen: Distressing Encounters

Tang faces a foe more powerful than Lady Bone Demon.

----------

Tang ran his fingers through Xiaotian’s fur as the young monkey slept. He smiled at the content look on the kid’s face.

He didn’t like this timeline.

These quiet moments of safety and peace were becoming increasingly infrequent this cycle. Tang did his best to be a comforting presence for his son, but the threat of their enemy always loomed in the back of everyone’s minds.

Tang looked at the clock and sighed. If he was going to get any work done before the shop opened he would have to get going soon. Tang placed a kiss against Xiaotian’s forehead before standing to leave.

“Baba?”

Xiaotian was looking up at Tang with half open eyes, obviously still more asleep than awake.

“Go back to sleep, Xiaotian,” Tang said as he resumed running his hand through his kid’s fur. “I was just checking on you before I left.”

“Where ya goin’?”

“I need to head to the shop early to do some paperwork. You don’t need to be up yet.”

“M’kay,” Xiaotian slurred, already falling back asleep from the sensation of Tang stroking his head. “Be safe.”

“I will.” Tang leaned over and placed another kiss on Xiaotian’s head. “I love you.”

“Love you.”

Tang’s heart leapt. It was the first time Xiaotian had confessed his feelings to him this cycle. He smiled down at the once more sleeping figure.

He probably wouldn’t remember this conversation later, but Tang was proud of how much progress Xiaotian was making. The amount of emotional trauma he had been subjected to this cycle was immense. That his loving spirit hadn’t been extinguished was a miracle. Tang was going to do his absolute best to nurture that spirit back to full strength no matter what.

Tang left the apartment and made his way to his antique and artifact repair shop. He was Tripitaka once again this cycle and seemed to have developed a knack for tinkering with relics over the years.

Pigsy, in contrast, was a semi-retired mercenary who liked to hang out at the shop when he had nothing else to do. It was an interesting change in dynamics with Tang being the busy one with a shop while Pigsy loitered around distracting him.

Not that he minded seeing his husband for most of the day.

Tang unlocked the shop and made his way to the back to put away his coat. He picked up several sheets of paper and began working on checking his inventory.

If it had only been Pigsy and himself swapped around, Tang might have found this cycle to be enjoyable. Unfortunately for nearly everyone, that wasn’t the case.

Tang frowned as he absently made a note to order more clockwork springs for his personal repair kit.

This timeline was… pretty bad. It seemed that there was some new crisis every week that would leave horrible emotional damage on anyone involved. Worse yet was the demon who was responsible for the majority of the trauma.

The Monkey King.

Tang shuddered as he remembered the first time he saw the cruel expression of the monster that wore the face of a member of his family.

Tang thought the cycles where he was the villain were bad enough, but at least he could choose to be reformed.

The Monkey King was a bloodthirsty and malicious foe that made any evil version of himself seem tame in comparison.

This anomaly in personality was the result of a plan hatched by Wukong and Macaque hundreds of years ago. Early on during the Journey to the West, the two monkeys had swapped places, with no one being the wiser. So while Wukong was off plotting his revenge against Heaven, Macaque was the one who learned humility and love from Tripitaka and the others.

The end result was the Monkey King being sealed under a mountain with his own staff by Macaque with the assistance of Queen Iron Fan and Red Son who wielded the Samadhi Fire.

Not without a steep price, however.

Macaque had lost his right eye. Red Son had almost been consumed by the sacred flames until Guanyin placed a hoop around the boy’s neck, sealing the flames and unfortunately his memories of being a demon as well. His parents were forced to keep him a bit at arms length to prevent the seal from breaking.

Tang clenched his pen as he thought about the more recent events.

Mei, who was being emotionally neglected by her parents, had witnessed Xiaotian’s adoptive father, the Yellow Wind Demon, being freed from his mink form. She had attempted to fight him, only to be blown away. Once she returned with her family’s spear, she managed to force the demon to retreat. Macaque had then proclaimed he would take her on as his student.

But the worst was yet to come.

Yellow Wind Demon tricked Xiaotian into removing the staff that was sealing the Monkey King away. It was then that the horrible truth had been revealed.

Xiaotian was a clone of the Monkey King.

Tang had to stop and take a few breaths as nausea rushed through him. Luckily Xiaotian had become independent enough that the Monkey King couldn’t just dispel him, but that didn’t stop Tang from having nightmares about it.

Mei and Red Son had rushed off to save Xiaotian from Monkey King’s clutches, and Tang had followed after them. The pure hate the demon monkey had sent his way when he had recited the tightening sutra for the first time in all the cycles to rescue the kids would be seared into his memory for years to come.

Xiaotian had turned against his creator and now lived with Tang and Pigsy in their apartment. The trauma of being a copy of that monster was still strong, but Tang intended to smooth it out with endless kindness and love.

Tang pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes as the image of a sinisterly grinning Monkey King filled his head once more.

He had been extremely lucky that he hadn’t been recognized as Tripitaka by the demon. He had no doubt the Monkey King would then stop at nothing to hunt him down for turning Macaque against him. Not that it had been too hard once he and the others had pointed out to Macaque how abusive the Monkey King was in their relationship.

Tang sighed as he tried to focus on his inventory list.

He hated feeling this powerless. The Monkey King was the most terrifying adversary he had faced across the timelines. Worse than even Lady Bone Demon and the Mayor. He was going to get ulcers from how worried he constantly felt.

The bell above the front door chimed, signalling an entering customer. Had he forgotten to keep the sign flipped to closed?

“I’m sorry,” Tang said, not turning from his paperwork. “But the shop is closed at the mome-”

A paw clasped around his mouth and a strong arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him close against someone. Tang dropped his papers as his glasses fell from his face.

“Hello Tripitaka,” a horrifyingly familiar voice said.

Tang turned in terror to see the sneering face of the Monkey King leaning close into his own.

“I missed you so much.”

No no no no no!

How had he found out?!

“Let’s go find Liu Er and the kid and go home now, hmm?”

Tang’s blood ran cold.

Monkey King didn’t want him dead. It was so much worse than that.

He wanted Tang to be a part of his twisted family with Macaque and Xiaotian.

The thought of being used against his old friend and son to make them comply made Tang’s pulse quicken.

He couldn’t let that happen!

Adrenaline rushed through him as previous years of fighting experience kicked in.

Tang shoved his foot back into his captor’s, managing to catch Monkey King by surprise and push him off balance. The strength of the Earth suddenly seemed to flow through him as he grabbed the demon’s arms and managed to throw him over his head into one of the displays on the wall.

Instinctively, Tang raised his hands as another power came forth. He quickly called out the tightening sutra while casting a binding spell simultaneously. The Monkey King snarled in pain as his fillet squeezed his head and ropes of golden-yellow light wrapped around him.

Tang waved his hands and recited another spell, summoning several domed barriers of light around the demon as he knew the ropes wouldn’t hold for long. He would worry about how he was doing this once he was out of danger and not running on autopilot

“You’ll regret that!” The Monkey King bared his fangs at Tang as he strained against the magic ropes, several of them already beginning to snap.

“The only thing I regret, Wukong,” Tang said coldly, his hands glowing golden-yellow as he began to manipulate the Earth beneath the shop, “was not being a good enough teacher to show you the error of your ways.”

The Monkey King snarled in defiance as two enormous slabs of rock burst through the floor and fused together around the barriers holding the demon. Tang rushed forward and placed the strongest seal he knew onto the makeshift prison.

It wouldn’t keep the insanely powerful demon trapped permanently, but it would buy Tang enough time to get to his husband and son and escape to somewhere safe.

Tang picked his glasses up and ran from the shop, placing another seal on the building itself for good measure. A few of the friendlier shopkeepers from the neighboring buildings were standing outside.

“Are you alright Tang?”

“We heard a loud crash coming from your shop.”

“The Monkey King is trapped inside,” Tang said a bit breathlessly. The shopkeepers looked panicked. “He’s after me. I need to get my family to safety. Can you make sure this street is evacuated before he escapes?”

“Holy shit!”

“Y-yeah! We’ll take care of it! Just go get somewhere safe!”

“Thank you. You all might want to stay away for a while as well in case he tries to use you to get to me,” Tang said. They all paled a little at that and quickly left after wishing him good luck.

Tang took off at a sprint towards his apartment. He had left his phone in the back of the shop with his coat. Hopefully it was still early enough that neither Pigsy or Xiaotian had left yet.

The adrenaline was quickly wearing off, and he felt the powers he had used ebb away entirely. Tang would have normally been endlessly fascinated at this new development, but the threat of the Monkey King was still hanging over him. He would have to examine what had just happened later once they were all somewhere safe.

There was an explosion in the distance, followed by an enraged roar.

Tang grit his teeth as he ignored the stitch in his side and ran faster.

He really didn’t like this timeline.

----------

And here we have the second most popular AU by @winterpower98, the absolute angst-fest that is the Swap AU.

The scene where Wukong shows up is directly referencing this comic that got commissioned by @stylishbutdefinitelyillegal.

I’m not sure if I managed to capture Tang’s thoughts on this timeline clearly or if I just managed to give a brief, crappy summary of it instead. :/

And what’s up with those powers from past cycles showing up? That’s certainly never happened before.

Guess we’ll have to wait and see!

Until next time!

[lo-55]

Broken Wings

By all rights, the scars shouldn’t have existed in the first place. Ace x Marco   

 By all rights, the scars shouldn’t have existed in the first place. Ace x Marco

Ace first noticed the mark before he was Whitebeard’s son. Or, more accurately, before he knew he was one of his sons. Back when everyone who was not named Portgas D. Ace had already accepted that he was a part of the family, and was just being difficult at this point.

Ace had a lot of hiding places on the ship. He’d found at least a dozen in the week he’d been their captive, small slates that could be safely removed and revealed enough space for a young man to squeeze in, storage rooms that were barely used, and one particular closet that housed the spare sails. He could hide away all day, until his stomach demanded that he steal food or he had a new plan to try and take the old man’s head.

Frustratingly, no matter where he went, Marco could always find him. Was he a phoenix or a freaking bloodhound?

Ace had hoped that his latest hiding place would remedy that.

After all, who would look in their own window seat for a captive?

Ace muffled a snicker at his own cleverness and settled against the wood, safe behind the curtains that Marco kept drawn. Ace wasn’t sure why Marco had the box with the window in it, which gave the best view of the seas. The window’s even had a latch, unlike anything Ace had seen on a ship before. Most rooms only had a porthole, if that, and they definitely didn’t open.

The young man was very smug, settled in and waiting. Let Marco find him now!

Ace woke up from that thought sometimes around sunset, the narcoleptic attack ending as quick as it came. He looked out, watching the sun burn across the horizon as it sank into the waves. Orange melted down in the water, molten fire. Ace breathed in the dying warmth, drawing it into his veins.

The door opened with a soft clock, so minute Ace almost missed it. He stiffened, barely daring breath. Had Marco found him?

Even if he had, it wasn’t like Ace had gone snooping through his things. He’d just sat himself in the window and taken an unwilling nap. He hadn’t gone through the carefully stacked manila folders, or pulled open the drawers in the desk. He hadn’t gone riffling through the closet, or even touched his sheets.

Ace waited a few minutes before he carefully parted the curtains, just enough to peak out.

Marco was facing away from him, dropping his lilac shirt into a hamper. He reached for the blue one he had already laid out, stretching the scar on his back.

It was bad, ugly, stretching from beneath the sash at his hips up to his shoulder blades and back. The cut that had made it was too jagged for it to have been done cleanly, or with any skill, and it was clearly done with the intent to hurt, mock.

Ace pulled his face back, suddenly sick with the feeling of intruding. He waited until Marco had left the room to sneak out, running off to hide somewhere else. He didn’t go back to the window box. He had already seen more than he was meant to.

~                                                 ~                                ~

The second time Ace saw it was at an onsen on a winter island that was under their protection. They had gone to celebrate Ace finally becoming Whitebeard’s son. It was a lavish affair, and after the party wound down everyone parted ways. Some went back to the ship, some went to see what the local girls thought of pirate boys. Ace decided to try the water out.

Now, he may not have always been the most strategic of thinkers, but Ace was, by no means, stupid. Impulsive, reckless, bullheaded even, but not stupid. So when he decided he wanted to soak in the hot water, he grabbed the nearest person to him, who happened to be Marco, and declared,

“Take a bath with me.”

To which he received a slightly more open eyed stare than usual. Marco went back to his sleepy expression a second later.

“No,” he said blandly. Ace frowned, about to argue, when he remembered the macabre decoration carved into his new brother’s back.

“Then watch me take one,” he countered instead. Marco stared at him again, until Ace realized his mistake. Face heating, he smacked the bird. “Not like that! If I fall asleep in the water, I’ll drown.”

“Then stay out of the water, yoi,” Marco reasoned. He hadn’t even flinched for Ace’s blow.

Ace made a face at the older pirate, face scrunched up like a bulldog trying to get a biscuit.

Marco snorted at him and the lines of his face eased into a softness that made Ace’s stomach curl delightfully around itself. He swallowed back a lump trying to form in his throat, eyes wider.

“Alright, alright,” Marco waved his hand. “I’ll make sure you don’t drown.”

Ace positively beamed at him. He threw an arm around his brother, dragging the taller man into him. To his credit Marco didn’t stumble, just leaned down at little to make up for the different in their height.

“You’re the best!” he told the phoenix, handing him the praise a few inches from his face. Marco, lackadaisy as ever, poked Ace’s hat a few inches higher.

“Just start walking, yoi.”

Ace did, his arm migrating from being looped around Marco’s neck to his arm. If Marco thought anything about how childish Ace was, he didn’t mention it.

Both of them had a room to themselves, but Ace went to his for the sake of actually knowing where that was. The rooms were already impressive enough, especially to someone who’d grown up the way Ace had, but more than the wide space or the fine paintings on the wall, more than the well stuffed cushions around the small table or the silk sheets over the mats, the baths were grand.

A hot spring, each expensive suite accompanied by one, bubble up from the ground with water that bordered on scalding. Rich minerals rolled through the stone with the water that filled the bath, big enough to hold five men, let alone two. A tree swung it’s low branches down near the water, causing ripples where it brushed. The whole thing was bordered with a powdery snow fall that hadn’t quite melted yet.

Ace stripped, shameless in front of another man, and tossed his clothes carelessly into the corner before he slipped into the water.

On anyone else it would have been too hot to simply jump into. For a man made out of fire, it was just warm enough to sink into his skin and feel pleasantly warm.

A soft, contented sigh escaped him. He hadn’t realized until then the kind of pressure he’d been under, constantly anxious, waiting for someone to get sick of him and attack. Constantly weary of where he was, who was around and what was in his food. Always truing to come up with a way to kill Whitebeard, even surrounded by a ship of people who kill and die for him.

Ace’s head lolled back. His chest caved in with the built up stress finally being released.

Long fingers slid into his hair, drawing dark eyes open to look up at Marco’s droopy eyed stare. A small tug and a soft ‘thump’ sounded behind his head.

“You still have your hat on,” he explained. Ace hummed and leaned into the fingers. It felt nice, being touched like that. Luffy had been all about physical contact, but there was something different between his little brother clinging to him at every opportunity and Marco taking the time to make sure he didn’t hurt his most valuable possession, some foreign in the gentle way his fingertips touched Ace’s scalp.

“Thanks,” he remembered his manners, at least. When Marco’s touched wandered from his head to his shoulders, to one of the arms Ace had stretched out on either side of him, he did nothing to stop it. Not even when his fingers found the familiar crossbones over the extra letter in his name.

Ace looked at Marco’s face, waiting for the inevitable question. A question that never came.

Marco pulled his hand back to himself, to Ace’s disappointment. On impulse, Ace grabbed it before it was out of reach.

Marco glanced at him.

“Yes? He prompted.

Ace paused. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“Are you sure you don’t want in?” he asked again, fully expecting denial.

When Marco sighed and pulled his hand back to take off his shirt, Ace was stunned. He hadn’t actually expected for Marco to join him, but here he was, stripping down. Ace would be lying of he said he didn’t watch him, letting his eyes wander down the man's legs, up over his chest, and higher until he met a smug smile and dark eyes.

Ace’s face heated quickly and he looked away, sinking down in the water. Shit.

“Like what you see?” Marco teased, easing himself in across from Ace. The younger man didn’t miss the way he kept his back to him.

“Eat me,” Ace replied, eloquence personified.

Marco snorted and sunk in to his shoulders, tilting his head back and letting out a groan that had to be intentional. Ace decided then that Marco was a dick.

“I didn’t say it before, yoi,” Marco said some minute later, “But welcome home, brother. We’re glad you found us.”

Ace flushed warmly, a goofy smile spreading across his face. That same warmth curled in his stomach once more, Marco met his smile with a half one of his own.

“I’m glad I didn’t get a lucky shot in and kill the old- and kill Pops,” he tested the word, rolling it around in his mouth. His father. Ace hadn’t known how much he needed one until he had one, and now he didn’t think he could ever let go of the feeling of being someone’s son. Someone other that him.

Marco laughed, long and hard. Ace’s face only got hotter.

“You were never going to kill him, you know,” he said, without the mocking bite that Ace expected for trying to murder the strongest man in the world, on at least twenty seven different occasions. He sighed heavily.

“I do now!” Ace tilted his head back against the stone, slightly cooler than the water, and closed his eyes.

He woke up when he found himself being jostled, picked up out of the water and slung over Marco’s shoulder like he weighed nothing at all.

Dark eyes blinked a few times before they focussed on his butt, then quickly migrated to the scars mutilating his back. Ace swallowed a sudden wave of nausea and anger. They were even worse close up, horribly detailed in their depiction. It made his stomach roil with the desire to burn whoever had done it to ashes.

He pressed his face into Marco’s back, so he wouldn’t have to see, and wrapped his arms around his chest and an awkward hug. It drew a soft laugh from the man carrying him.

“Go back to sleep,” he advised for the first time, “I won’t let you drown.”

Ace had no doubt about that. He obeyed and closed his eyes.

~                                           ~                                       ~    

Ace saw it again weeks later, though he didn’t ask about it.

When he ran his hands down Marco’s ribs and lay his lips across his chest, Marco let him push the shirt off. The fire in his veins roared to life and he tumbled into the bed, letting Marco roll them until he was hovering above Ace, kissing his hard. Ace thought he could drown like that, kissing Marco, grasping at his shoulders, sinking his nails into his arms.

They tumbled, pressed against each other, kicking up a ruckus that settled more than a few bets.

Ace found himself laid out of his back, grinning like mad at the ceiling. His head was hazy, his skin was steadily cooling even as Marco ran his palm across Ace’s stomach, reaching a small scar that slid between his ribs, barely an inch across.

Ace didn’t have to look to know the one his fingers had paused on.

“They took me by surprise, before I ate the fruit,” he said without prompting. “Probably the closest I’ve ever come to dying. And it’s tiny!”  

“Right into your lung,” Marco agreed. His fingers moved on, to a slightly larger mark, much more faded, on his chest. He tapped it, drumming his fingers over the three slashes. “Feline?”

“Giant tiger,” Ace confirmed. “I was like, eleven? It looked smaller from in the tree…”

Marco laughed at him and leaned down to look him in the eyes. “How don’t you have more scars?”

“Luck? Stubbornness? I don’t have your healing factor,” he elbowed Marco playfully. Still, Marco had scars of his own. Worse than any of the ones Ace had ever seen before, and he’d seen some shit.

His thoughts must have showed on his face for some of the calm bliss Marco had been exuding dissipated. His smile faded, his sleepy eyes dimmed and he rolled, snatching his shirt off of the floor. Ace watched him, letting the horrible image on Marco’s back burn into his retina.

Ace could still picture it even after he’d dressed and walked out the door.

~                                             ~                                              ~

The fourth time, Ace couldn’t help it.

Marco had, for once, slept in. Ace had volunteered to go get him. He didn’t see anything wrong with it. He even knocked, softly, before he poked his head inside. There wasn’t much room for shame on a pirate ship. So Ace walked in, paused at the doorway, and stared.

Marco had fallen face first onto his bed and was out cold, his shoulders moving steadily with each breath. Up, down, up, down. His lilac shirt lay crumpled under his arms, his pants hung uselessly over the edge of the bed, leaving him in nothing save his boxers.

Green, Ace noted idly as he approached on soft feet.

He stood at Marco’s side, looking down his long body. As strong as he was, the man was light enough for most of them to lift with one hand. A side effect of being part bird, Ace figured.

The scars stretched across his back, before Ace’s eyes. It made him sick. His fingers itched, drawing to lay feather-light across the horrible fresco painted into Marco’s skin. He followed the curve that wrapped across his shoulder blades, down his ribs, to his lower back.

“Who hurt you?” he breath the question to the air.

“I haven’t always been Whitebeards son, you know.”

Ace snatched his hand back like he’d been burned, head snapping down to look at Marco’s face. Even though his smile was amused it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You’re awake,” he wanted to smack himself for such a stupid statement. Marco just smiled at him, indulgent.

“Hand me my pants,” he pointed, “And I’ll tell you a story.”

Ace grabbed them and handed them over, stomach clenching in a way that nothing to do with the way the ocean rolled under their feet. Marco sat up and pulled his pants on, threading his favorite sash through them when Ace gave it over without needing to be asked.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Ace warned him.

“I know,” Marco assured. He didn’t reach for his shirt quite yet. Ace watched his face, not his back or his shoulders. Focused on the lines of his face instead of the marring on his back.

Ace waited in silence for Marco to do on. When he did, it was a credit to his skills that he sounded exactly the same way he always did. Unbothered by anything.

“Not all pirate’s work the way we do. Not all crews are a family, or even a group of friends. Some of them are cobbled together by desperate people, or bound as one by force and fear,” Marco looked at the window, not at Ace. “We were formed before Gol D. Roger started this age of piracy. It was a dark time, for the world and for me. The captain found use for me, for my abilities and my adaptation. I made a good shield in a fight, and I was too young to understand what he was doing to be wrong. What boy wouldn’t do anything to protect their ‘father’?”

Ace swallowed a lump in his throat. He didn’t dare say anything.  

“Someone shot through me once, though, and hit him in the leg. He found a fitting punishment. He made sure I couldn’t forget my failure. If I didn’t know what seastone did before, I certainly did after.”

“Marco…” Ace didn’t know what to say. So he kissed him, long a slow. Trying to explain what he didn’t have the words to say. That his father was a piece of shit. That that wasn’t his father, Whitebeard was. That Ace was glad he was here and would fight anyone who tried to hurt him again.

Marco kissed him back, smiling against his lips. Ace wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. He let his hands slide up, across the mangled skin. A heat burned in his chest, fury at the man who had done that, love for the man it was laid upon.

Ace let Marco push him back onto the bed, fingers ghosting across his back. A fire ignited around them, blue and red warring as the two pirates grasped at each other desperately, feelings burning into skin.

As blue flames wrapped around him, Ace chased away the memory of the wings on Marco’s back.

He let himself be consumed by the fire.

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 17

Warnings: angst, alcohol abuse, anxiety, heartbreak, police violence (potentially triggering encounter, please heed the warning), language

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: Well, here it is. All I can do is say...I’m sorry. But I promise I’ll fix it. I decided to go ahead and post this tonight because I haven’t gotten to write much lately, I’ve been working constantly and now I’ve got a second job - so I just love getting to write and post when I can. Thank you for sticking with this story. It’s almost a year old now! As always, let me know what you think!!

“I dunno, Mom - I mean it’s not like I planned this-”

“Well, no, honey,” her mother huffed over the phone. “It doesn’t seem like you planned any of it.”

Y/N winced at the sting of her words but didn’t argue. With her phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder, she grabbed another stack of underwear and socks from the dresser and turned back towards her bed, where a suitcase lay open. A few pairs of jeans and a couple of sweaters were already folded inside. Off to one side, her toiletry bag was stuffed full - skincare and toothpaste and hair products she might not even use but tossed in anyway in her flustered packing frenzy. Her grip on the socks in her hands tightened to keep her fingers from trembling.

It had been 2 days since her fight - breakup - with Bucky. For the first 24 hours, she fell into an anxious, disorganized catatonia; she shuffled from room to room in her house, pacing and biting her nails, opening cabinets at random then promptly closing them. Her fingers tapped restlessly against her thigh, and her heart raced at a breakneck pace. If a single clear thought managed to arrange itself from the scattered clutter of her panic, it was only Bucky’s face, red-eyed and tear-stained as he pleaded with her. After splashing some water on her face and changing into sweatpants, she had put herself to bed, settling in for the longest night of her life. She tossed and turned, hearing the minutes tick by from the clock on the wall. At around 3 am, she threw off the covers in heartbroken frustration and stalked to the kitchen, setting the kettle on for tea and raiding her cabinets for any treats she could find. Thank God she still had that fancy dark chocolate she’d gotten last time she went to the city; it was the only thing her cupboards could provide in the way of comfort food. Armed with a steaming cup of lavender chamomile and an entire half-pound of dark chocolate she settled back under the covers and grabbed the T.V. Remote from her nightstand. If nothing else, she prayed Netflix could distract her, fill her mind with different faces, different voices - drown out the one that wouldn’t leave her.

She managed to doze off towards the end of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, tearful confessions playing in the background of her not-quite-dreams, and woke just before 7. A cold, clear morning greeted her through the window, the air in her room practically frigid, but something in it settled her. Quieted the static that had blurred out all thought since Bucky walked through her door the day before. With a deep breath, she threw off the covers and swung her feet out of bed, leaving the tea cup and chocolate wrapper to deal with later. It was her running shoes she reached for.

An hour and 10 kilometers later, she jogged back up her front porch steps, breathing heavy and feeling light. Her cheeks were charted from the wind, and her nose was running, but the grip on her heart had shaken loose. And as she clambered into the shower, stinging hot and billowing steam, new thoughts began to string together - thoughts for tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that.

Still in sweatpants, hair dripping, she’d scribbled down a list while she sipped her coffee. Names, to-do’s, a seed of a plan. In order, she phoned the clinic, her best friend, her residency program coordinator - and now, at last, her mom.

“I’m driving up to stay with Kat for a few days - maybe a week,” Y/N sighed, ignoring her mom’s comment. “Just to…clear my head, you know?”

“Sure, sure,” her mom agreed. “Though I don’t know why you couldn’t come here…I haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving-”

“Mom.” She closed her eyes, one hand settled on her hip. “It’s not a vacation.”

“No, sweetie, but it doesn’t hurt to come let your mom take care of you…”

Knuckles pressed to her eyelids, Y/N sat down on the edge of her bed. The old mattress creaked, as it had every night she slept in it for the last several months.

“I-I just,” she licked her dry lips and tried to swallow. “I need to be alone for a little bit, Mom. Once I’ve got it all figured out, I’ll let you know. And maybe…who knows, maybe I can come visit soon.”

“Sweetheart.” The voice on the phone is tired, resigned. “Why do you always try to do these things by yourself? You don’t have to be alone.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, her fingers curling into the fabric of her pants. She breathed slowly, warding back the lump that threatened to close off her voice.

“I’m sorry, Mom. But this time I do.”

**********

“You’ve got to go in there and wake him up-”

“I’m not doing it - I wouldn’t touch him with a 10 foot pole when he’s like this.”

“Well, someone’s got to. We’re bugging out in just a couple days-”

Heavy-eyed, and feeling like death warmed over, Bucky stirred at the sound of the voices outside his bedroom. Harsh winter sunlight burst through the blinds over his window; even before he opened his eyes it hurt. Something throbbed inside his skull, and his tongue felt thick and heavy in his parched mouth. Why the hell did he feel this bad? He couldn’t remember the last time he drank like this, to the point of blacked out nausea. His stomach roiled as he turned over, and he felt far too old to be drinking like there was no tomorrow, like he hated himself-

And then he remembered.

Y/N.

Suddenly he had no interest in getting up, getting water, getting something that would settle his stomach. He covered his face with his hands, fingers pressing firm against his eyelids and blocking out any light that came through. It was hot in his room, the combination of heating and a pile of blankets that someone had tucked him in with, but he didn’t move the covers, choosing instead to sweat underneath them.

How had he fucked up so badly? The best thing that ever happened to him - and now she was gone, baby, gone. It would’ve been alright, maybe, if Natasha had allowed him to talk to Y/N himself, but-

Natasha. Just the thought of her set his blood on fire, and he sat bolt upright in bed, his eyes flying open - only to immediately regret it as a stronger wave of nausea threatened to claim him. He quickly folded himself in half and put his head between his knees. When his head finally stopped spinning, he propped his elbows up against his knees and threaded his hands through his hair.

Already, he felt a thread of shame and guilt tugging at his gut. It wasn’t right to blame Natasha. He knew that. The lies were all his own; all Nat had done was reveal the truth.

But, God, the look on Y/N’s face - she had never looked at him that way, not even in the beginning when she was afraid he might be a criminal. It chilled him - right down to the marrow of his bones - the cold anger, the mask of disgust and disinterest that she wore to hide the way she hurt. And she did - he could see her pain cracking the ice in her eyes, no matter how she tried to hide it.

He hated himself for it.

A soft knock at the door, and Steve’s blond head poked in.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows jumping in surprise. “You’re awake.”

Bucky’s scowl deepened as Steve and Sam kindly let themselves into his room and took up post at the foot of his bed.

“Yeah - thanks to you two. You wouldn’t know how to whisper if your life depended on it, Wilson.”

To his credit, Sam didn’t respond - merely rolled his eyes and cast an exasperated glance at Steve. With a sigh, Steve crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes down on the soft blue quilt Bucky had haphazardly wrinkled during the night.

“Look, I understand that you’re really upset right now.” Steve’s voice was soft, barely more than a murmur. “I know…I know how much she meant to you.”

Bucky felt his eyes starting to burn as he stared at his friends, and he hastily scrubbed at them with his palms, sniffing.

“But,” Steve continued, licking his lip. “We’ve got our marching orders - we’re on standby to pull out any day now. We - I - can’t have you going on binders, AWOL for 24 hours, and then stumbling in here piss drunk at 3 in the morning.”

“We thought you were dead, Barnes,” Sam added, clenching his jaw. “We’re on fuckin’ suicide watch, man. You’re gonna drink yourself to death over a breakup? Huh?”

Growling, Bucky reached behind himself for a pillow and hurled it at Sam’s head.

“Shut the fuck up-”

“No, Buck, Sam is right.” Steve’s brows were knitted together tightly. His eyes were sympathetic, but the rest of him was unflinching as stone. “You can’t do that again. What if you’d run yourself off the road, or gotten hit by a car?” Bucky scoffed, but Steve didn’t back down. Raising his voice he went on. “No, I really want you to think - would you be better off dead? Is that what you want? Is that what she would want?”

Eyes squeezed shut, Bucky saw her face right before him once again, her smiles, the way she used to look at him. The panic in her eyes during his parking lot showdown with Rumlow, the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating on something, how sleepy her eyes were in the mornings - each little piece of her, precious secrets he had tucked away in the hidden corners of his heart. He had thought, dreamed, that he had a lifetime to collect them all, fit all her parts together like a puzzle one piece at a time, and love every moment of it. Now, though. These lone pieces are all he has left, and they will never be enough.

What did she want? He knew only one thing for sure - that she was the only person who could say.

“I don’t think it matters to her either way, punk.”

**********

A few miles outside of town, just past the last lonely gas station, was the exit ramp to the interstate. The road had seen better years; the pavement was pitted with potholes and cracks, haphazardly patched with uneven lumps of asphalt that left drivers weaving between lanes and wondering which would do more damage to their tires. But, since this part of the state saw less traffic than other areas, infrastructure money was slow to trickle down towards repair and reconstruction.

Y/N had driven this road a handful of times - as she moved into town, and then when she had taken the drive a couple of times to visit her friends in the city. It was desolate enough to be a slightly depressing drive; nothing but scorched fields for miles on either side of the road, and the steep ditches that banked it on either side were overgrown with wispy stalks of dead grass. Overhead, a grey and overcast sky shadowed everything, promising a winter day best spent indoors.

She tuned in and out of a true crime podcast while she drove, hardly seeing the road in front of her. Her mind was too far gone on the events of the past few days - and everything she had to do with the coming ones. But there was something comforting here, in the grip of the wheel in her hands, a travel mug of coffee still steaming in the cupholder, an open road ahead of her. She felt…awake, present. Bruised, but not broken. And ready to get back up.

Of course, it shook her when a cop car pulled out of the overgrowth on the shoulder of the exit ramp, putting on speed to keep up with her. Mentally she reviewed her driving - still only 5 over the speed limit, her lights were on and working, her tags were in date. They had no reason to pull her over, she rationalized.

And they didn’t. The car stayed right behind her for the next 10 miles, quietly driving at her speed, keeping a couple car lengths’ distance between. No flashing lights, no sirens.

So why were her palms sweating?

After 20 miles, the sirens finally started blaring, blue and red flashes blinking in her rearview mirror. Despite being raised to respect the law, she felt nervous as she glanced back at the car, easing her foot off the accelerator, but not quite braking to pull over. She bit her lip, hesitating another few seconds as the alarm grew louder behind her. Her stomach clenched nervously.

Stop freaking out. You’re just worried about getting a ticket. Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, she scolded herself and gently pulled her car over to the side of the road, careful not to get too far into the muddy grass along the shoulder. Fingers fidgeting nervously on the steering wheel, she watched as the officer got out of his car and strolled up to her window at a leisurely pace. His head was shaved, and he wore dark mirrored sunglasses, in spite of the gloomy light of the day. As she rolled down her window, she squinted at his face, trying to recognize him from the adrenaline-blurred memories of the night Bucky killed Brock Rumlow - but the low slope of his cheekbones, the clean-shave, the firm-set frown are all unfamiliar to her.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he greeted her, one hand on his hip. It drew her eyes down towards his gun. “License and registration please.”

Instinctively, she nodded and reached towards her wallet lying in the passenger seat to dig out her license. The officer was silent, propping one hand against her car while he waited; she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears and willed herself to calm down.

Clearing her throat, she gathered her courage and spoke up.

“Excuse me, officer-” He barely glanced up from where he was perusing her car registration. “Why did you pull me over?”

He looked up at her fully at the question, shifting his stance and licking his upper lip.

“One of your tail lights is out,” he said, shoving her papers back through the window. “That’s a real safety issue.”

“My tail light…?” Her tail light - which had been changed only a month ago. She knew, because Bucky did it himself. He had always been worried about her safety; every time she was going somewhere without him, he did a full inspection of the car, testing brakes and changing the oil, going over every last inch of it and then filling up the tank with gas before she left. Last time, she’d sat in the garage nursing a cup of cider as she watched him fiddle with the lights…

She shook her head to lose the thoughts of him.

“I’m sorry, sir, but my tail lights are working just fine, I just had the bulbs changed.” She leaned forward in the seat, peering up at the officer. “Are you sure that there’s something wrong with them?”

Frown deepening even further, he crossed his arms and widened his stance.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to get out of the car?”

“Excuse me?”

“Get out of the car, ma’am.”

“What? Why?”

“Please, just calm down and get out of the vehicle.”

“But-” her protest broke off as he shifted his stance back, one hand inching towards the mace in his belt. She glanced at her phone, sitting in the unoccupied cupholder with her aux cable connected to it. Her fingers twitched - for a microsecond, she contemplated the very bad idea of reaching for it, refusing to get out of the car, calling-calling…someone. Someone.

But surely, if she cooperated, this would all be worked out with just a minor headache, or maybe a ticket, she reassured herself. She repeated it in her head as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, climbing out of the car carefully, her hands held out to her sides where they could be seen.

Once she was out of her car, the officer took a step forward and pushed on her door, shutting it with a resounding click.

“Okay, I’m out of the car…”

“Turn around and put your hands on the hood.”

“I’m sorry, what?” she exclaimed, hearing her voice hitch in alarm. Her eyes cast up the road and back towards the exit ramps - there were no other cars in sight. No witnesses. “Am I under arrest?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, out of patience. His hand went to rest on his gun now. “Turn around and put your fucking hands on the hood of the car.”

Her fists curled and she stood her ground. She willed away her thoughts of Bucky.

“No. I haven’t broken the law, you can’t arrest me for having a tail light out-”

In a blink, his gun was up and trained directly on her.

“Put your hands on the fucking car!” he yelled, loud enough to make her wince at the volume. Her thoughts tunneled on the barrel of the gun aimed at her chest.

Wordlessly, she turned and planted her hands on the cold metal, shivering in just her sweatshirt, her winter coat tossed in the passenger seat while she was driving. The tips of her fingers went numb and her eyes watered, stung by the wind. Her dry tongue pressed against the backs of her teeth - if she tried to swallow she’d choke.

“Who are you?” Her voice shook, but she managed the words. Scared and alone, but she’d fight, goddammit. She’d fight. He would want her to fight. “Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“Shut up.” A firm, cold point of pressure between her shoulder blades as he pressed the gun against her back. There was a faint buzzing sound and then the rustle of fabric; when he spoke again, it clearly wasn’t to her. “Yes, sir?” He answered his phone. “Yes - we’re on schedule. I have the package. Will confirm when its secure and en route.”

Her heart raced wildly and her mind went white with fear. What was he talking about? This had to be some kind of mistake, a misunderstanding-

Just as she opened her mouth to speak again, the butt of his gun came down against the back of her head; her vision exploded in stars, and then faded to black as she slumped against her car. Barely conscious, she felt herself being dragged away down the road, lifted and shoved into the backseat of the squad car, unceremoniously dumped with her face down against the cold leather. The engine hummed to life; a seatbelt clicked - not hers.

“Sir?” He spoke again from the front seat. “Package is secured.”

She wondered if Bucky was coming to find her. He would, she told herself. He’d come.

And then, nothing.

[the-silentium]

Jinx Pt.2

Masterlist

Pairing: The Swedes x Reader

Words: 2260 words

Warnings: Angst, torture, blood, swears... I think that’s about it.

Tags: @jossambird​

//General//

//Reset//

//Reset all//

//Enter password//

**************

//Resetting//

As the cog turned onto the screen of your iPad, you felt lighter, free of the anxiety that someone could find a way into your tablet or simply see a drawing by accident. Your fear of hurting your new family was too great, even though they had promised to never touch your device again. 

Your relationship with them only got better in the weeks following the revelation of your ability, their acceptance of who you were only increasing the confidence you had in them, leading you to open more about yourself. 

You were throwing the tablet into your bag, put on your red squared flannel coat when Oscar's impatient shout came from the entrance of the apartment. You rolled your eyes at his eagerness, clearly, you'd never understand why he loved hunting people down so much. I wasn't your favorite part of a job, your favorite being when the mission was done and you could go relax somewhere or, as of late, pass time with your new family. 

"Took you long enough." You rolled your eyes, to what Oscar fake gasped. 

"We have all the time we want, relax." Pushing your luck, you ruffled his too perfectly arranged hair, dashing to run for the car where the older brothers were waiting as he went to grab your arm. 

Hurriedly you pulled on the 1968 Ford Mustang door handle multiple times, ultimately finding it locked. 

"Shit." You muttered, the dead leaves cracking under Oscar's boots alerting you of his presence right behind you. 

"You'll regret that." He whispered into your ear, an enormous handful of leaves falling in the back of your shirt making you yelp. 

Your back curved at the rough contact, hands flying to the hems of your coat and shirt to make them fall, some of them getting stuck in the fabric despite how hard you shook it. 

Otto knocked on the window, signaling that it was time to go, your childish behavior would have to wait for later. You sigh, letting the victory to Oscar -this time-, taking place on the back seats. 

The half-hour road would have been pleasant if it wasn't of the leaves crumbles scrapping your back. You tried to ignore it the best you could by humming to the songs on the radio and ignoring Axel's glances in the rearview mirror. 

"This place would be scary at nightfall." Oscar said, whistling in admiration when you all gathered at the door of the building. 

"Good thing we are not staying here for nightfall then." A shiver ran up your spine at the idea of walking in the abandoned factory in the dark. Who knows what could be hiding in the thrashed rooms. 

Axel's hand fell on your shoulder, his gaze searching yours to reassure you that it'll be alright. He'll protect you. His lips did the tiniest of twitch when you smiled wholeheartedly at him, grateful you at least have one brother who you could trust fully to not scare the shit out of you when you'd least expect it. 

Otto snatched the keep out sign, throwing it in the bushes. Immediately, you had to suppress your instincts that were screaming at you to get out of there as fast as possible, passing your nerves as a result of Oscar's night plan. 

The silence in the building was strange, although not uncommon. You checked a room on the right for your target as Oscar checked a room on the left, regrouping with the others when you found no one. 

"Why would a guy hide in here?" You whispered to Oscar, who shrugged. Needles were lying everywhere along with broken glass, old tools, torn pieces of fabric and broken furniture. You couldn't progress as silently as you'd like, glass crunching under the sole of all your boots, rising your anxiety slightly. 

You repeated the process a couple more times, checking a room, regrouping, until a metallic door fell from the top of the door frame you just passed, right behind your back trapping you inside a windowless empty room. After recovering from the initial shock, the loud bang of the door landing on the ground almost giving you a heart attack, you tried lifting and pushing the door, not to avail. Bangings came from the other side, Oscar's muffled calls of your name barely reached your ears. 

"Oscar! Axel!" You hit the door, your worst fear coming true. "Ott-" 

A metallic noise behind you killed your brother's name in your throat, your body reacting as quickly as it could, gun at the ready. The absence of light made you press your back firmly to the door, wishing that maybe you would pass through it by some mysterious phenomenon, the incessant hits on the metal stressing you more and more. 

A soft whooshing sound caught your attention on your right, along with a pungent smell. Panicked, you slide on the door, landing on your ass to hide your face into your clothing, praying that your family would get you out of there before the gas had reason of you. You dropped your gun without wanting to, your only source of security disappearing in the dark. You sit there, hearing the banging, feeling your heart rate decreasing, your respiration slowing and you knew. You were screwed. 

"Y/N, are you alright? Kärlek!" Axel… He sounded distressed. It… made you feel… worried? 

A weird sound registered in your brain, your fingers twitching in response. You jerked as a hand grabbed your wrist, a weak scream leaving your mouth as something poked into your forearm. 

The hits on the door became louder, worried voices morphing into menacing ones. 

"Sweet dreams, agentin." The distorded voice whispered, a hand softly closing your eyelids for you since you couldn't do it yourself. 

*********

You were shivering uncontrollably, the cold air mixed with your wet clothes made it impossible for you to gain some sort of warmth. You were tired, oh so tired, but you fought. You fought as hard as you could. Against the nausea, against the cold, against the exhaustion. 

It took a while for you to get seated in the wet tiny cell, the remaining effects of the gas slowly disappearing from your system. 

"We can finally get started." 

Your head was still turning, your mind was still foggy but your instincts were still sharp. Your body moved by itself, retreating as far as it could from the voice, until binds on your wrists stopped your escape. 

"Wh-who are you?" You finally managed to open your eyes, taking in the dark humid cell you were in. Droplet of water ran onto the stone walls, gathering into small puddles where some courageous rats were drinking unbothered. The two oil lamps weren't enlightening much of the room, just enough to show you your dirty cell and all the sharp tools exposed onto the table. 

"Did you seriously think the Commission didn't have enemies?" A vicious smile stretched his lips, your blood running cold. He took out a set of keys, unlocking your cell before stepping in. 

Honestly, no. It never crossed your mind that a time-traveling company full of mercenaries could have enemies. How the hell did the guys in the Infinite Switchboard missed that?

The binds bit your skin the more you pulled on them, trying to evade his sickening form. 

"We knew you'd come for us sooner or later. We just had to set up the perfect time for agents to come do their handy work." He pulled your hair back, a disgusting smell of cigarettes assaulting your nose. "I'm glad to see that our plan worked. So einfach zu betrügen. Ein Haufen Idioten."

 You glared at him, your fear overpowered for a moment by your training, your heartbeat slowing to a steady beat, your muscles relaxing, testing the strength of your legs in an urge to hit him where it hurts. And hit him you did. 

Satisfaction flowed through you in waves at his cries of pain, the way he fell to his knees almost made you laugh. That was before the knuckles connected to your cheekbone, sending your head right into the wall. You didn't have the time to recover that hands wrapped tightly around your neck, his body straddling yours, restraining your movements. 

"No more playing around. Where is your briefcase?" 

The pressure alleviated for a second, allowing you time to spit on his face instead of talking like he wanted. He cursed in what you thought to be german before his hands tightened around your throat once more, lifting your neck to pull you back on the ground. 

Your cries were muffled by his hands, white lights dancing before your eyes. 

"How do you use them?" He yelled into your face. 

As his patience reached its limit, your lack of answer pissing him off, the shine of a knife caught your attention just before it cut slowly, steadily into the skin of your abdomen, superficially enough so you wouldn't die on him, but enough to make you think about a new way to approach the situation. 

"Maybe this will help untie your tongue." 

But it didn't, your mind deeply buried in one of your best memories to resist the pain your body was enduring. 

After a while, the pain stopped, letting in its wake an uncomfortable throbbing. You allowed yourself to return to reality, leaving the comfort of your mom's arms, your brother's teasing, your sister's giggles and your father's laugh. 

Tears flowed from your eyes as soon as your brain registered the white-hot pain, the new many cuts tainting your belly made you feel like you were burning. 

As you dug into your flesh to execute your plan, tears flowed from your eyes, and pleas from your mouth. Pleas for your beloved Swedes to find you in time, because for the first time in 16 years, you wanted to live. 

*************

"Ready to talk today?" 

The man came back, lamp in hand, chasing the rats as soon as the light revealed them to the world. You'd had to hit them so they'd leave you alone, the blood under you enough to attract their hungry stomachs. 

"Ready to die?" You answered with a smirk. 

He took the bait, letting his annoyance guiding his actions. Unlocking your cell, he approached, the light of the lamp lightening the drawing on the wall, made of your very own blood. Giggles bounced around the cell as you saw his eyes taking in the monochromic illustration of himself, lying on the floor with a hole in his chest. 

"Think you're funny?" Quickly, he put the lamp on the floor, something metallic hidden in his hand. He jumped on you again, the exhaustion of your sleepless night fending off the rats making you powerless against the needle entering the vulnerable skin of your arm. 

"I guarantee you that you'll talk. I have all the time I want." He got up, grabbed the lamp and disappeared down a hallway. 

"Continue telling you that, asshole." You muttered, analyzing the hole in the crook of your elbow. "Son of a bitch." 

Without losing any precious second, you removed your coat, dipping it in the puddle on the floor and pressing it to the wall to erase your artwork, smudging the dried blood to protect any other eyes that would venture your way. 

You reduced it to a massive stain, or so you thought in the absolute darkness. 

Or was it dark? The hallway was bright again, his footsteps coming your way. 

"Not dead yet? Shame." You shot, uncaring of what you would get in return. 

"Y/N!" Oscar's voice boomed, hurting your beaten head. 

"Turn it down, dude." You whined, massaging your temple. Boots appeared in your peripheral, attracting your eyes. 

"He-"

Arms engulfed your form, tight but cautious of your bruises and wounds. 

"Jag var så orolig. Snälla säg mig att du är okej." He pulled away, eyes frantically running over your face and front. 

"Sorry, I don't speak handsome." You giggled, turning into a full-on laugh when he frowned, checking your head for bleeding. "It's so unfair." You pout. "The perfect Scandinavian stereotype. Handsome, gorgeous and cute all in the same family. Do you guys know how many women's love lives you've ruined just because they've looked at you?" 

Shit, talking so much is exhausting. Your head became very heavy, falling forward on a hard chest. 

"Vad är fel med henne?" Otto asked, bringing the lamp closer to better assess your injuries. 

"The not-so-handsomes can't understand. Not everyone speaks Ikea." Your words were muffled by Axel's shirt, which by the way, was very very soft. 

"I'm fairly sure she's drugged. Or hit her head too hard. One of the two." Oscar snickered, unlocking the chains around your wrists. 

A hum vibrated in Axel's chest, snuggling more into his body at the feeling. Arms moved under your knees and back, lifting your battered body with care, stopping when a hiss escaped you. 

"Sorry." He whispered, waiting for you to smile at him to position you better in his arms and follow his brothers out of the underground complex. 

"You can kiss it better." Your eyes found his captivating ones, his usual stern gaze now replaced by a soft one. 

"It's not you talking, Kärlek." He averts his eyes. 

"No? I wanted it for a year though, not just now." You snuggled in his neck, the tiredness finally catching up to you. You fell asleep to the sound of a frenetic heartbeat, safe in the arms of your beloved Swede.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Royal We ch.3 (baon)

Summary: Family helps family. Sometimes right into the path of an oncoming car.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Instinct was a tricky thing, Edge knew. Occasionally useful, generally unreliable, most of his instinctual urges for fight or flight had been forcibly trained away by his brother by the time Edge was old enough to be left alone so that Red could go out and scrounge food for them. Instinct was not to be relied upon and taking an instant to assess a situation before blindly engaging meant the difference between dust and another day.

And so, while instinct was clamoring inside him to scoop Stretch directly into his arms and carry him inside, right up to their bedroom to bar the door, his brother’s training remained and allowed him the logic to know that if he tried it, Stretch would very much resent it and might revolt, taking a shortcut to anywhere and dragging Edge along on the nauseating ride as punishment. That was strain that Stretch did not need and vomit that Edge’s boots could do without. Better to side with logic and help Stretch make his slow way to the sofa.

But there was no sigh of relief when they reached it. Stretch only blindly lowered himself to the cushions. He rolled to his side, both arms clutched around his skull and a low, thin whine escaped him. Edge tried to cover him with the blanket still in his hands but Stretch flung it off almost immediately. Small wonder, there was sweat beading on his skull, pale orange running down the sides of his face to soak in where it was still buried in his sweatshirt-covered arms.

“I’m calling the doctor,” Edge said tersely. He didn’t know what was wrong, but this was past any ordinary headache. He couldn’t simply stand here and watch his husband quiver in wretched pain, already reaching for his phone. Only to hesitate as Stretch jerked half-upright, looking out from underneath his shading arms long enough to shake his head wildly before sinking back down with a wince.

“no! no, they can’t help, i just need to…i gotta tamp it back down.” Stretch let out a shuddery breath, whimpering out, “it’s been so long.”

Edge lowered himself down to the floor next to the sofa, stretching out his bad leg with a grimace; it was letting him know on no uncertain terms that he’d been standing for too long. The urge to touch Stretch, to offer some comfort, was overwhelming and likely unwelcome. Instead he gripped his phone, only loosening his hold when the case creaked ominously. “What’s been so long? How can I help?”

“can’t.” A single word, clipped and pained. Not at all what Edge wanted to hear. His phone groaned again in his hand and Edge tossed it carelessly on the coffee table. not bothering to watch it clatter to a stop. At least he could spare his devices any further trauma.

For too long he sat and watched as jerky tremors rocked through his husband. His eye lights tracing Stretch’s hands where they were clenched together over his skull, the bones bleached pale and joints taut. In tiny increments, his grip eased, his breathing slowed.

“there,” Stretch sighed out. “there, that’s…that’s better, a little better.”

“What’s a little better?” Edge asked, worried and frustrated. “What is going on here? Explain.” This was something new, an unwelcome snag in their homey life quilt, and the sudden tension that seized Stretch had nothing to do with pain. “Please, tell me, don’t leave me out of this.”

“i won’t,” Stretch whispered, low and resigned. “can’t, really.” He moved to lay on his back, one slim arm still slung over his sockets as he sighed heavily and began, every word slow, chosen with care. “i was sitting on the porch with janice when sans messaged me, asked for help. i almost said no, it’s been so long, but. it was starting to get dark and cold, i couldn’t let jude stay out any longer, not if i could help find him. so i met up with sans and we went looking for his soul.”

That gave him a pause, nothing like he’d expected, if he’d expected anything at all. “You…what?”

“we…i looked for his soul,” Stretch repeated doggedly, “gave up the job but i still have the tools. sans was already trying, but i have more magic than him, you know that much. i can see further, i had a better shot from the get-go.

“You Checked for him?” Edge asked, confused. None of what Stretch was saying made sense. Checks wouldn’t be useful in a search, the range was only a few feet and required a certain amount of focus. He reached out to feel Stretch’s skull above his blocking arm, searching his forehead for a fever. If this were some sort of pain-driven delirium, he needed to call the doctor, right now.

Stretch flinched away, cringing back into the sofa cushions. “no, no, not a check. i can see souls without pulling them. we can, judges can. only problem is you can’t really narrow the field, it’s all or nothing.” He shuddered, curling inward and swallowing convulsively, his tongue rasping dryly over his teeth. “saw too many people, too many souls, all over, while they were searching. even a glimpse is so much. just need a few minutes, y’know, s’like a watch, you gotta let it wind itself back down.”

“You can see souls,” Edge repeated, slowly, as if the words would somehow make more sense if he drew them out. But the meaning didn’t change no matter how it was said. Judges could see souls, Sans and Red and Stretch, they could see them without first pulling them free from a Monsters’ chest, they could see…they could see so much, he said. Too much.

Dawning understanding was rising, coupled with a highly unpleasant thought and nausea of his own stirred. Edge spoke without thinking, his voice preternaturally calm as he asked, “Have you seen my soul?”

“i’m not even looking at you, babe,” Stretch scoffed. Hardly his best attempt at obfuscation; his hands twitched briefly into fists before forcibly relaxing, his mandible going tight as his jaw clenched. Little tells revealing unwanted truths.

This wasn’t the time for it, his husband was still hurting, but Edge couldn’t help demanding, raw panic rising through his rigid control. “That is not what I asked, give me a straightforward answer for once! Have you seen my soul?”

The silence couldn’t have lasted more than a few breaths, a quiet eternity before a soft, pained confession, “yeah.”

Now that he understood, clarity was coming in strong waves, splashing into him and knocking him off balance, but he understood, all too well. “You saw when we first arrived here. Didn’t you.” Fresh from Underfell, his LV still boiling so close to the surface before he’d better learned to control it. Snarling at every perceived insult while it throbbed hotly in his soul, demanding kill or be killed, but not here, not in this place, never again, and Stretch had seen that, had…had hated him then, most of those insults were from him.

“yeah. i did.” Softer yet, thickly. The arm that wasn’t over Stretch’s sockets reached out, his slender hand grasping. Edge scrambled back from it thoughtlessly, nearly wrenching his ankle and ignoring the jagged protest of pain shooting up his leg. Unable to touch, not right now, not with the sourness sitting at the back of his tongue, his bitter gorge rising. His brother never told him about any of this and now Stretch was only admitting to it years later, he’d seen and he never said—

Edge closed his sockets, forcing himself to take a long, calming breath. This shouldn’t be such an issue; he’d seen Stretch’s soul a dozen times now, hypocrite that he was, held it in his hand, taken comfort from it, felt the slick welling from it in the moment of orgasm, silvery sleek against his bare phalanges. He’d seen Stretch at the very peak of his vulnerability, been given that gift time and again.

He may never have offered that in return, but Stretch had seen his soul and he was still here. Had sought Edge out from the beginning, those first cautious flirtations came even after he’d seen, even after all the ugliness already between them back then. In this world, sharing souls didn’t even hold the same level of importance, casually summoning them for doctors to treat or scientists to study. It shouldn’t be an issue and Edge wanted to say it was all right and couldn’t. “When was the last time you saw it?”

That grasping hand wilted, settling empty back on Stretch’s chest, and Edge couldn’t stifle the unwilling thought that it was close to his soul, “a little while before we started dating,” Stretch admitted, still achingly soft, “right around when i decided that i didn’t give a shit what ass-gore wanted, i was washing my hands of the whole judging biz. this is the only time it’s ever done any good for me, anyway, never felt like it ever helped anyone else, it only ever hurt them.”

“And you haven’t looked since?” Edge demanded. Not that he didn’t believe him, he did…and he didn’t, he needed to hear it. “Why?”

That barricading arm rose and Stretch looked out at him from under it. His eye lights filled his sockets, not their normal pale white but a faded orange, blearily diffused, Edge wasn’t even sure how much he could actually see, souls or otherwise, as Stretch said, simply, “you don’t want me to see it.”

The words were hardly accusatory, but Edge couldn’t stop a flinch. The urge to run away was strong, to flee…and go where? There wasn't anywhere he could go to hide what had already been seen.

Stretch said nothing, only closed his sockets again and slumped back down. Expecting perhaps to be shouted at for…not lying, not this time, but certainly a creative withholding of information. Red lying to him was nothing new, but there were a dozen times Stretch could have brought up the fact he'd already seen Edge's soul, more, any time Edge asked to see his, he could have spoken of this.

Only, Edge knew something else about lies, from his brother. At some point, the lie becomes too big, the burden barely balanced, and for Stretch to bring it up would be risking exactly this. The lie became less important than the fact that it was kept for so long. Some might consider it better to keep waiting and hope it never came up. Someone who was entirely too adept at avoiding confrontations, who hated to disappoint anyone, who sometimes gave off a façade of carelessness that was only a thin disguise for how deeply he did care.

Someone like Stretch.

"It’s ironic," Edge said at last. He felt oddly distant, speaking from outside himself. “I was just talking to Dr. Lee about my inability to show my soul to you and you’ve already seen it.”

“i didn’t mean to.” His voice was so achingly small, then louder, cautiously interested, “you saw doc lee?

“For my assessment,” Edge admitted. The shame was grounding, jarring him back to earth, and who was he to complain about a discreet withholding of information? He’d never meant to keep his visit a secret, only planned to discuss it at the right time, or so he’d told himself, for several days now. “She wants to see me again.”

“gonna go?” The words held no judgment, and Edge held back a pained bark of laughter at his own unintentional mental pun.

“Yes.”

“that’s good. she's good.”

“It is good,” Edge said roughly, “because you deserve to see my soul and not simply when you can’t help it.”

“babe, you don’t need to—"

The distance between them was abruptly wrong instead of a reprieve. Edge crawled back over to him and kissed him softly to silence him, tasting his relief as Stretch pushed into his touch. It soothed, some, but the jangling agitation in his chest was still stirring warningly hard. He wanted to be here and didn’t, he wanted to hold Stretch and push him away, a painful conflict that needed resolved. He drew away again despite Stretch’s tiny sound of protest, “I need a minute. I’m not angry at you, I promise. But I need some time to think.”

“yeah, i get it,” Stretch sagged back into the sofa. “go on, do what you gotta do. i’ll be here when you get back, i’m not going anywhere.”

An implied promise and a near threat in one and Edge cherished it. He snatched up his cane and struggled to his feet, limping outside. On the porch, he paused to tighten the straps on his leg brace. It helped, increasing the support as he started off into the cool evening. After standing in place for so long, walking felt good, the sidewalks emptier than normal even at this hour. The other joggers he occasionally saw were probably already home, the sweat built up from searching for Jude showered away and curled up for their favorite nighttime activity with their family. And here he was, alone, with the cold air against his bare skull bracing, clarifying, as he walked. Despite what he’d told Stretch, thinking was more the opposite of what he was doing. He let his mind wander, focusing on nothing at all, let the agitation swirling in his soul ease and settle. He didn’t need the violence of sparring to settle his LV, not this time.

He wandered through the empty streets, letting time pass without a gauge. Until the ache in his leg began to threaten again and his soul was calm and by then, his wandering had already taken him back to his own street. Back to his home.

When he stepped inside, he saw Stretch was curled asleep on the sofa, half-buried in the blanket. As Edge watched, he let out a faint, shuddery sound, his breath hitching. There were faint stains still visible on his cheek bones; he’d been crying, and remorse settled in. He’d needed his space, but he didn’t wanted it at the cost of more pain for his love.

Edge sat down with him, his hip on the edge of the sofa cushion, tracing one pale orange streak down Stretch’s cheekbone with a gloved fingertip. Even now, he was the loveliest thing Edge had ever seen, his sunrise and starlight together, shining brightly from a perfect soul.

Stretch stirred, his sockets drifting open and before he could even properly focus, he smiled, sleepily beautiful as he mumbled, “hey, babe.”

“Hey, yourself.”

Some of that openness closed over, shading his eye lights as he woke further, hesitantly asking, “everything okay?”

“Okay in that we’re back to the status quo, yes.” Edge stripped off his gloves, infinitely cautious of his sharpened fingertips as he gently cupped Stretch’s face, cradling it between his palms.

Stretch’s sockets went wide, unsurprisingly considering how rarely Edge touched him ungloved. That much, at least, was a vulnerability that Edge could offer him. “what do you—“

He broke off as Edge leaned in to kiss him, his sweet breath sighed out between them. It lasted longer than Edge meant, he lingered, one kiss merging into the next, the next, and he drew away with only the greatest reluctance, taking in the renewed haze in Stretch’s eye lights with satisfaction.

“I want to share my soul with you, love, I do. But I’m not ready yet,” Edge admitted. “Even knowing that you’ve already seen it I—I can’t.”

The gentle smile that softened Stretch’s mouth nearly made Edge lunge in for another kiss. “that’s okay. babe, seriously. i don’t need it. i love you, all of you, seen and unseen.” He cupped the side of Edge’s face, his thumb gentle as it ran Edge’s cheekbone, skirting along the crack that ran through it.

It wasn’t okay. Edge was no judge, but the unfairness of it grated; they should be equal partners, they should, he trusted Stretch beyond words, with his very life. And yet, showing his soul still felt like too much, an instinctive rejection of offering up his own weaknesses that even his brother’s training couldn’t overcome. As much as he hated himself for it, he couldn’t. Not yet.

But he couldn’t not give something. Stretch was touching his hands now, his blunted fingertips grazing against the slender, scarred bones, appreciating the novelty of it. That was something, but wasn’t enough, there must be some other vulnerability he could offer as proof of the measure of his trust. He had to equalize at least a little, couldn’t let Stretch bare himself down to his very essence every time and offer nothing in return.

It didn’t take much coaxing to get Stretch to shift back enough for Edge to settle next to him, nestled in as the smaller spoon. He took Stretch’s hands in his own, twining their bared fingers in a gentle knot, their wedding bands nested together in the same fashion as their bodies. “I’ve never told you why I’m afraid of spiders, have I.”

Stretch shifted, his arms briefly tightening, wary curiosity roused as he said, slowly, his warm breath brushing Edge’s skull. “no, you haven’t.”

The words were difficult, stalling unspoken on his tongue. Edge closed his sockets, and let his head fall back against Stretch’s sternum, right above where his soul would manifest if he called for it. With some difficulty, he dredged up his voice and the words came easier once they were begun, "When I was a child, my brother and I were living on the streets in New Home for a time--"

~~*~~

Some hours later, the chime of a phone woke Edge. He managed to detangle his hand from Stretch’s, fumbling out to check whatever message someone at the Embassy thought urgent enough to send in the middle of the night. But to his weary surprise, the phone he came back with was not his own, but Stretch’s.

Normally, Edge would respect Stretch's privacy and even if he didn’t, the whims of his Twitter menagerie held very little interest for him. But tonight, they’d earned their rest and he didn't want the phone to wake Stretch. He started to turn off the notifications then paused.

It was a text from Red. Another Judge and secret keeper, and Edge unlocked the phone to check it with hardly a twinge of guilt.

knock knock.

Edge considered the text, studying those words like the puzzle they likely were. Long minutes passed, then another light chime and the screen lit up.

c’mon, knock knock…please.

His brother saying please was surely a sign of impending doom. Morbid curiosity drove Edge to finally reply, who’s there.

iowa

iowa who

iowa big ass apology to you. sorry, kid.

Behind him, Stretch finally stirred, his chin digging into Edge’s scapula as he peered over his shoulder blearily, “who is it?”

"My brother. He's apologizing." And if a please meant impending doom, Edge had no idea what to make of that. Either they should be running for a bunker or buying a lottery ticket, there was no way to tell.

"hnnn,” Stretch sank back down and made a fair attempt at burrowing into Edge’s spine. Lacking that, he settled for the blanket and to be as close as physically possible, more so, Stretch did often treat time/space as less of a rule than a suggestion. “tell him he's a dick for me. a big ol' meaty one."

"I'll refrain from commenting on my brother's genitals in any capacity, if you don't mind, and tell him the apology is accepted."

“works for me.”

Edge sent the text and tossed the phone back on the coffee table. It was past midnight, they’d been asleep together for hours. “I should make something for a late dinner.”

Stretch’s grip abruptly became strangling, his slender arms more like steel. “Or I can stay here and we’ll eat later,” Edge conceded, sinking back down. The blankets were invitingly warm and so was Stretch, far more enticing than even the finest meal from the heavens, much less the leftovers in their fridge.

“good idea, glad you came up with it.”

“I have my moments,” Edge murmured, squirming loose enough to turn and rest his skull on Stretch’s chest. They’d never made it back out to the chicken coop, he realized, to see if Nugget’s persistence with her stolen egg was rewarded and how. Well, that could be dealt with tomorrow morning, along with checking in on Undyne. It seemed her baby shower would be postponed until the literal baby could attend themselves.

His drowsiness was beckoning him back down. Faintly, Edge could hear a soft throb from within the cage of Stretch’s ribs, the light, lulling pulse of his unsummoned soul, and Edge let sleep claim him again.

~~*~~

tbc

[mcrmadness]

Anxiety stuff. I just need to vent in order to calm down so don't mind about me here venting. (And just a draft doesn't feel the same, I need this OUT of my system, scream it into the void.)

I don't know what is it with my body/mind now but I'm extremely tired of whatever it is. I don't like it at all and it reminds me of the anxiety phases I have had in the past and that always gives me even more anxiety because those times have been some of the worst experiences of my life.

Currently I can't sleep. Because my heart keeps beating so hard? Like not really faster, just so hard that it feels like it's shaking my whole body. If I try to breathe long and deep, I feel like suffocating and my breathing is slightly broken(?) because the pulse feels like it punching me in the stomach meanwhile. Nothing hurts and I'm not out of breath, I'm just so sensitive to any sensation of my body that it makes me easily overwhelmed. I tried sleeping but the heart distracts me from that too much. I tried listening to a nature document meanwhile but nothing.

I'm also shaking a little. This is where the anxiety steps in. This heart beating and shaky feels happen sometimes when I eat and the blood sugar levels go up too high. I just ate about 1-2h ago so it maybe was just that. I'm currently sitting on my sofa and rocking myself back and forth which often also helps me to calm myself down and I'm already feeling better. Still I put some rye bread in the toaster, I'm not really even hungry but sometimes ALSO low blood sugar level does this same thing! In the past I have had very wild fear of low blood sugar and I have often eaten for anxiety because I cannot stand the psychosomatic symptoms of anxiety AT ALL so my first instinct was always: eat, in case it's low blood sugar and ice often had trouble telling those symptoms apart from each other.

However, I think the shaky feels are from migraine. I had quite a strong one yesterday. I had stayed up almost 24 hours, didn't drink any tea in that time and slept very weird hours and woke up at 10pm on Friday night. I already had a headache that later either turned or revealed itself to be migraine instead. I took painkillers at night but I still had mild headache but strong neck muscle pain all the way to the morning. I couldn't take another painkiller yet but went to sleep instead. I could fall asleep and slept pretty okay, on my sofa tho. The whole day after that I had this post-migraine zombie feel. Where anything physical feels bad in the neck and head and causes mild nausea. Certain posture in the neck still feels slightly painful. But I didn't have any proper headache anymore so I didn't take painkillers. It's nothing new that I feel this shaky the whole day after migraine, especially after such strong migraines. It's just my health anxiety and my tendency to become overwhelmed and overstimulated by such things that then make me to want to do nothing else but sleep, but I can't sleep because I'm so severely overstimulated. Both tire me out until I basically pass out from exhaustion.

Anxiety is not neat, especially not on worse days. I don't know what's causing this now. The days that are getting logger? Usually spring is my time and I become energetic. This year it apparently means I have so much energy I'm almost maniac and my brain doesn't care about time nor light but basically refuses to sleep more than every other night/day. And it's exhausting too. I haven't been out since last Sunday. And now is yet another Sunday morning. We're supposed to go to the supermarket today. I've been hyperfixating on creative stuff and haven't showered since Wednesday. I stink awful.

Last week I was stupid and decided to cook before doing the dishes - "I'll do them once I've eaten." WRONG. I never do the dishes after eating and cooking. Brain says "we don't need the sinks nor the dishes in next 2 weeks, no need to worry about them until that :)" Usually I do the dishes because I need SPACE. And utensils. That day I had enough of both. And this is always the result and I never learn. Now my sink is full of stuff, I have one clean plate in the cupboard and no clean utensils left. I'm too tired to take care of them and my brain is overjoyed when I can tell myself "I don't need to do them now because I've had migraine and I deserve rest." because it's a good excuse, no need to feel bad for procrastinating. Usually everything is "oh and I SHOULD do this and this and this"...

I think I feel physically awful also because migraine just affects the whole body. My neck muscles still feel awful. It's hard to explain. During migraine they basically feel like they'd suddenly start sinking in size but they're still attached to the rest of my body so it feels like the muscle would be pulled to every direction possible. And after that you feel liike you'd have spent a day in those torture machines where they stretch yours arms. Sometimes feeling sore, but usually just plain stiff. Like the whole body feels like it has turned into stone. No wonder why I feel like I can't get air from ny heart beating against my lungs if all my muscles are so stiff they're hard like stone and can't relax even that much that air could have enough space to move between my lungs and mouth/nose.

I think the heart beating was actually just high blood sugar. It's back to normal now aka I can barely feel it which is good. My neck still feels awful but I'll try to get some sleep soon. I'm starting to feel tired finally, too.

I have therapy on Monday. I hope I somehow get more sleep than just two hours before that.

[michaelgambons]

Baseline Romantic

Chapter 4

‘Shit’ she said, sitting up abruptly, the alarm temporarily forgotten.

The last night comes flooding back to her. She turned to look at Ben, still fast asleep next to her, mouth slightly ajar. He looks ridiculously good, blonde hair falling slightly over his forehead, long eyelashes fluttering slightly.

What on Earth had she been thinking? Nausea rose in her as she realised the implications of what she’d done. Not only had she slept with one of her best friends, who she was sure would normally have no interest in sleeping with her had they both not been so blackout drunk, but it had been really good sex. The best Y/N had had in ages. And then there was Dan, Y/N groaned slightly as she remembered. What on earth would she tell him? Should she tell him? What did she want? Did she want Ben?

She brushed that thought from her mind. Dan. That’s what she needed to sort first.

She swung her legs out of bed, nausea mounting. Her taxi to the station was arriving in 30 minutes, and she looked and smelt like she’d spent the weekend at a brewery.

———-

Established on the train packed full of morning commuters, Y/N opened her laptop and tried to concentrate on preparing for her meeting, but her mind couldn’t settle. Guilt overcame her; she can’t believe she’s just cheated on Dan. She would *never* cheat. It wasn’t her, she was loyal to a fault. And yet, she remembers Ben from the previous night, as she had slid his jeans down him, revealing his ridiculously pert bum, his face above hers as he pushed into her, his blonde slick with sweat. She didn’t know sex could be that good. Even though it’s an ungodly hour of the day, Y/N felt a familiar feeling aching through her body, making her shift awkwardly in her chair.

Snapped back into reality by a commuter squeezing past her, Y/N turns once again to her laptop. Her daydreams would have to wait until later. The policy document wouldn’t write itself.

———

Y/N slumped into her chair, grunting slightly as she checked the time in the bottom of her computer screen. 16:45. Just 15 minutes to go. She checked her phone for the hundredth time that day. Nothing from Dan, but 3 missed calls from Ben.

She should have replied to him, they needed to talk it out. To try and rescue their friendship before it was too late. But whenever Y/N had plucked up the courage to call him back throughout the day, something else had got in the way.

‘You look very sorry for yourself today Y/N’ Megan says, laughing as she gazed over her computer at you. ‘Good weekend?’

Y/N glanced around before she answered. She had to get this off her chest, she needed to talk to someone about it. And who better to talk to than Megan, who knew no one involved and could tell no one?

Y/N take a deep breath. ‘Mate’, she whispered, ‘I really fucked up. Big time’

Megan laughed at Y/N before realising that she wasn’t joking. Concern clouded her face. ‘What happened?’ she asks. ‘Actually’ she said , looking at her watch, ‘tell me over a pint. I’m buying.’

—————

‘Which one’s Ben again?’ Megan asked, frowning slightly, taking a sip of her pint.

They’re huddled at the back of a bursting pub full of loud businessmen in slick suits, cradling their pints.

‘The actor one’ Y/N responded. ‘Blonde hair-‘

Megan interrupted ‘-killer cheekbones? I know which one you mean. He’s fucking gorgeous. What about him anyway?’

Megan sits for a second after Y/B finished telling her story. Her silence is deafening.

‘Have you spoken to Dan yet?’ Megan asked

‘No’, Y/N responds, ‘I feel sick even thinking about it.’

‘Stop me if I’m wrong though, Y/N, but it doesn’t sound like you really want to be with Dan at the moment. No one cheats’ (Y/N recoiled slightly at the use of the phrase, still unused to hearing it directed at her) ‘because they’re happy in their relationship. It doesn’t come out of nowhere’.

Y/N sighed slightly. ‘I know. I know, it’s just... it’s easy. It’s familiar. And who knows... if I leave Dan when will I next meet someone I like? Or who likes me back? It’s such a leap into the unknown’

Megan stared at Y/N incredulously. ‘Are you seriously telling me Y/N, that you’re staying with this bloke because you’re worried you’ll never meet anyone else? Did the last weekend happen in a parallel fucking universe? You can get anyone you set your mind to. Clearly’ she said, gesturing at you, ‘you can do better than Dan’.

Y/N hummed slightly into her pint, unconvinced.

‘Anyway’ Megan says, smirking, ‘if you’re not interested in dating Ben, can you give me his number?’

—————

Y/N had finally plucked up the courage to return Ben’s calls the day after she got back from Peterborough. Sat on a park bench in her lunch break, sushi balanced on her lap, she had taken a deep breath in before tapping on his name to call him.

‘Y/N- hey!’ Ben answered on the third ring. ‘I thought you were never going to call me back’

‘I’m so sorry, it’s just been so hectic since I got back!’ Y/N lied pathetically

A silence fell between them. Neither knew how to bring up what had happened the previous night.

‘So...’ Ben started,

‘I don’t...’ Y/N started simultaneously

They laughed, which broke some of the tension. ‘You go’ Ben said.

‘I’m so sorry about last night, Ben. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was a huge mistake, I was just completely wrecked. Ive been really worried it’s going to spoil our friendship ’

There was a slight pause before Ben replied. ‘Yeah... absolutely’ he said. Y/N couldn’t help but notice that some of his bounce from earlier had faded. ‘Don’t worry about us’ he continued softly. ‘I was just worried about you!’ He paused before continuing, ‘have you told Dan?’.

‘No’ Y/N replied, ‘not yet. I haven’t really decided what I’m going to do yet. I mean it’s not like I’m in love with you or anything, it was just a drunk mistake!’ she laughed, but Ben was silent.

‘Yeah... sure. Whatever you’re most comfortable with Y/N. I haven’t told anyone, by the way, I assumed you wouldn’t want anyone to know.’

‘I’m so sorry Ben, I feel like I’ve put you in a terrible position’ Y/N replied.

‘Hey! Honestly don’t worry about it. Don’t give it a second thought’. ‘Let’s leave it there, unless there’s anything else you wanted to say. Have you heard about the new Fleetwood Mac Blues album that’s coming out? Wanna come round and listen to it together when it does?’.

Y/N put the phone down 10 minutes later, feeling relieved.

Chapter 5 now out!

https://michaelgambons.tumblr.com/post/622841467806826496/baseline-romantic

[paellaplease]

Firebird | Chap.1

pairing: Revali/Original Female Character genre/warnings: adventure, romance, slow-burn. graphic descriptions of pain. later depictions of self-injury. scarring. burning. swearing. canon-typical violence chapter word-count: 2,847

author note: Props to revali’s VA for bringing such an interesting and compelling character to life, especially with the limited screen-time etc. I knew I wanted to write about him the moment he rocked up and started talking.

Hope y’all enjoy the ride. 

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 1: Dagger and Arrow

If there was anything she was completely positive about, it was that death wasn’t painless and enchanting hurt even worse. 

*

She had felt death before.

It was a white, hot pain. Racing through her veins and making her muscles stiffen and squeeze as if she’d been struck by lightning instead of stabbed by a sword. Sometimes in her dreams it starts in the tips of her fingers, others it begins as a heavy weight on her chest. 

All times it hurts and it lingers. Swirling in her abdomen, making her feel sick as she briefly registers that her head was spinning, and the world felt very, very far away. Slowly, the edges of her vision would creep in. The commotion and screaming around her fading away till it was nothing but dull chatter.

Eventually, there would be silence and darkness. The pain ended just about then.

Yes, she’d felt death before. Or at least the worst parts of it. However now, standing in the middle of the Akkala Forge and staring at the lone dagger that sat on its pedestal in the centre of the black marble table…

She realised that on days like these, enchanting sometimes felt worse than dying.

The task was simple enough. The same she was given each month after weeks spent in study and preparation, training both her mind and body before her mentor deemed her ready to perform the procedure. 

Enchant the blade, make it work.

Gently, she exhaled a long, tired breath, glancing at the rune in disdain. There it was, marring the surface of her hand like it always did. An ancient pattern carved deep into her skin like a raised scar. The shape that looked almost like an eye at its middle seemed to stare back at her. What are you waiting for? It seemed to say. 

The rune had been there for as long as she could remember. It was the one thing she had left of her past, and also the main thing that reminded her of what her purpose was right now. 

Every attempt she’d made on enchanting a weapon had ended in failure, some more spectacularly terrible than the last. However today, on the eve of her twenty-fourth birthday, she was determined. She’d studied even harder this year, dedicating much of her free time to observing the smiths, and the rest to visualising the procedure. Today was the day she was to complete what was set out for her.

Gritting her teeth, she focused on the target and fanned her palm open.

The weather in the forge immediately shifted, transitioning from a stagnant cold, to a thick blanket of humidity. It was stifling, heavy in the same way the air would feel in the moments before a storm. 

The energy lying dormant in her veins ignited like a spark, low pitched and buzzing, singing loud and clear in her ears.

Bracing herself, a familiar burning sensation raced from her outstretched palm to the rest of her body, making her bite her lip as she focused on not calling out from how much it hurt.

The feeling worsened with every minute, the magical energy in her left hand pulsing to the beat of her racing heart. Carefully, she bent her ring finger inward, watching the rune illuminate in a blazing flash of blue light.

In an instant, jets of fire crawled up from the edges of the rune and into her five fingers, casting an eerie, orange glow on her pained face and making the air smell of charcoal. She pushed the fire further, the pain in turn worsening and making her head spin. 

Lines of fire raced out from her fingertips, wrapping themselves around the hilt of the dagger first and embedding themselves into the detail. The silver metal, now hot and red, began to melt and warp as the fire travelled up, searing a blazing trail into the metal of the knife.

Then came the worst part. Grimacing in anticipation, she grabbed the blade. 

The first time she had attempted the sealing stage, she had passed out in the workshop. It was the middle of winter then, five years ago. 

(She woke up the next day to the sterile chill of the village infirmary, sore as hell and smelling like a campfire.)

With time, she eventually learned to look past the spots that formed in her vision, fighting through the dull ache in her body and willing herself to stay awake. However, even with years of practice, her body wasn’t fully immune to the procedure’s effects.

She eventually discovered that at her level, her enchanting had a time limit:

Five minutes.

One. She closed her eyes and focused deeply on the blade, imagining the fire as she coaxed it to slither its way into the molecular structure of the dagger, willing it to wrap itself around the rapidly vibrating atoms like a snake in a birds nest. 

Two. With a shaking hand, she lifted the mallet she held in her other palm high into the sky, aligning it with the red star she had painted on the ceiling as a guide. Exhaling a gust of air, warm as oven smoke, she brought the mallet down, letting go of the blade in the same instant. 

Three. The black stone table she worked on shook lightly from the force. In contrast, the dagger she had just struck went immediately still. Steam began to lift from it, small flames licking its edges and casting the room in shadows. 

Four. She felt her focus waver, clutching her hand and falling to her knees-

Not yet! Not done yet! 

A bead of sweat dripped from her forehead, seeming to evaporate before it hit the ground below. 

Five. She dropped the mallet, shakily rising to her feet and swiping the thick cream coloured cloth at the edge of the table, quickly wrapping the burning blade in the material and extinguishing the rising flames.

Release! She ordered it, and the fire and burning in her veins were no more.

For a while, she stood there panting, clutching her shoulder as residual phantom pains echoed in her left hand. 

Swallowing her nausea, her right hand lifted the dagger to the dusty light filtering from the forge’s window. She marvelled at how heavy it suddenly felt, the metal, whilst still hot, laying cold in her hands as if never kissed by flame in the first place. 

She had done it. Her first successful attempt amongst so many. 

“Congratulations, Maiya.”

Maiya jumped, quickly whipping around to face the person standing behind her, still clutching the dagger. 

It was a tall woman, almost seven feet in height. She was wrapped in a dark cloak with light blue intricate designs laced into its sleeves and hood. Her bright, silver locks stood out amongst the darkness, cropped short and slicked back, her wrinkled face clear of distractions just as she likes it.

Seeing who it was, Maiya’s face broke out in a large grin. “Teacher! How long were you standing there for? I did it! I finally did it!”

If she wasn’t paying attention, she wouldn’t have caught the brief, small smile that flashed across her mentor’s face before it was replaced by her ever customary frown.

“I was here for long enough. You did well, my dear.“ 

Her mentor took a step forward, reaching out for the dagger with a black gloved hand. She peeled back the cloth slowly, revealing the enchanted blade underneath.

It was red. Bright red. With orange light glowing and racing its way from the hilt to the sharpened tip, embedding itself into the dagger’s swirling detail and setting the dimly lit room alight. 

"It’s time you find a master for this dagger.”

Maiya opened her mouth, questions bubbling to the surface as her mentor continued. 

“Rito Village, in the upper north western corner of Hyrule, is where you will go.”

“But why-”

“The land is filled to the brim with monsters made of ice and snow. The people there will benefit greatly from a warrior skilled in handling an enchanted blade of fire, no?”

At that, Maiya’s mouth ran dry of complaints, her words evaporating in the heat of the workshop’s air. It was no use arguing with her mentor at this point. But a lingering thought still hovered in her mind like a dark cloud.

“The land is quite far, teacher,” she whispered, looking everywhere but the woman in front of her. She braced for a sharp reprimand for her obvious sign of childish weakness, and was surprised when none came.

“I understand, child. However, I believe it’s time that you venture beyond the borders of this town and see for yourself the riches and diversity of the world around you." 

Her piercing grey eyes seemed to cut into Maiya’s darker ones, distant and glassy. Seeing something she couldn’t.

"An evil is building, my dear. And we must be ready. You learn nothing if you allow fear to dictate your freedom.”

Maiya dropped her gaze to her hands. The rune, ugly and deep, cut through the tan skin on the surface of her left. It stood out, angry and red, contrasting greatly with the smooth, unmarked skin of her right. 

“What of my other element, Teacher? The one that I will carve into my right hand when I am ready?”

“It is ice, is it not?”

Maiya nodded.

“We will begin preparations once you return.” Her wrinkled face twitched into a smirk. “Perhaps the environment will give you some ideas.”

With that, her mentor put both hands on her student’s shoulders, steering her away from the stone bench and leading her to the exit.

“You will be fine, Maiya. Now prepare, I will arrange a space for you in the next merchant trip to the region. Pack warm, you leave in three days.”

———————

Thud. The arrow embedded itself into the center of the target. Thud, thud, thud! Three more, dead centre again, each piercing through the previous arrows with deadly accuracy. 

Thud! Another, still in the centre of the target but slightly askew by a millimeter.

Revali frowned, wiping his brow and nocking another arrow onto his bow. Not good enough.

The forest outskirts a few hours from Rito Village was not his usual training spot. The wind was still fair, and the targets numerous (with hundreds of trees to choose from), but it still didn’t pack the same challenge, the same dramatic drop, the same chilling and powerful air of his beloved Flight Range in the Hebra Mountains. 

However, today marked the culmination of months of training for several of their new aerial recruits, and said Flight Range was therefore currently swamped by excitable Rito’s raring to get a few targets in before the sun set on the horizon. 

And as much as he would love to provide them with a generous demonstration on the highest level one can reach as a skilled archer such as himself, he didn’t believe he had the patience to deal with any novices today.

So…the forests will have to do.

Thud! The arrow went, embedding itself again in the middle of the target and cutting through the three previous others with a bit more force than usual.

The blue-feathered Rito reached into his quiver, picking out and nocking three arrows in one fluid motion. The world around him sharpened, then blurred. Three painted trees for three arrows, his vision hyper fixating on the first, second, then the third.

One breath, another. Now. 

The first arrow sang through the forest, embedding itself into a target hanging from a tree to his left. The second, whizzed past a bit further, passing through the leaves and piercing the hidden bullseye that he had placed underneath the foliage.

The third arrow travelled the furthest. Revali aimed to hit one of the more difficult targets he had planted several meters away. The tree was an ancient oak with leaves mostly orange, swaying lightly in the chill autumn breeze. 

Revali’s gaze sharpened. The arrow dipped and flew, dancing with the movement of the wind, quickly approaching the woman with dark hair that had just stepped in the way.

Wait.

What?

“Watch out!”

It all unfolded instantly. The Rito, in shock, slinging his bow over his shoulder and sprinting towards her, stopping to shield his eyes from the flash of a bright blue light. The woman, in a bizarre twist of luck and fate, hearing his voice and turning at the last minute, the arrow missing her head by an inch and cutting a diagonal line through her long, braided hair.

Silence reigned through the forest for a second. Then:

“WHAT THE FU-”

“YOU NEARLY KILL-”

The Rito stepped forward, pointing an accusing wing at the stranger. “Don’t you dare voice a stupid accusation such as that, I had no intentions of harming you.” He narrowed his eyes, suddenly feeling suspicious. It was rare to see Hylians frequenting this side of the woods, especially with the recent increase of monster activity and abundance of natural predators hiding in the thickets. 

Furthermore, although he doubted her involvement with the troublesome Yiga Clan, whose members have often been known to terrorize the odd lone traveler, he didn’t want to take any chances. “What are you doing wandering the middle of the Tabantha wild? The next Hylian-managed town is more than an hour away.”

He was surprised at the fury in her tone as she tilted her head up to snarl at him. “First of all, birdie, this forest is open to the public. No one owns these trees.” He opened his mouth to bite out a seething retort, but she stepped forward, pushing a finger underneath his beak to snap it shut. He spluttered. 

“Second of all, I’m taking a shortcut. I’ve been travelling west for three bloody weeks and it has been absolute hell. I’m sleep deprived, hungry, and tired. And I’m in a hurry! So unless you know anything about a place called ree-too Village, I’ll be on my way." 

Revali glared. At least that clears a few things up. Were all Hylians this demanding and foolish, or was it just the ones Valoo above was adamant in acquainting him with?

He pushed away the offending finger and rolled his eyes.

"Firstly it’s pronounced ree-toe. Secondly,” he said, mocking her manner of speech, “No. I don’t know anything about the village of which I was hatched and spent most of my life and waking hours. Whatever led you to such a ridiculous notion?”

He raised an eyebrow, watching- bemused, as a dust of pink crept its way onto the haggard woman’s cheeks. It was adorable, really. If only he wasn’t so pissed.

He took her silence as his cue to continue. 

“I wasn’t hatched yesterday. You’re obviously lost. However, to avoid you waltzing into another unsuspecting warrior’s weapon range, I suggest that you continue eastwards that way." 

His bow gleamed in the afternoon sunlight as he used it to point towards a structure which towered and peaked over the top of the trees. "See that stone pillar over there? That’s Valoo’s Spire, follow it and you will eventually reach the shore of Lake Totori. You will meet the Great Hylian Highway once again, and if you manage to follow it this time, the bridge to the village will be made apparent to you.”

He smirked, crossing his wings and tilting his head. Amusingly, she was about a head shorter than him, and she had to lift her dark eyes to the sky to glare at him. “Got all that? Because if not, good luck as I am not the type to repeat myself to idiots who ignore my knowledgeable advice.”

“Alright thanks, whatever,” she sighed, grabbing an elastic from her pocket and pulling her now asymmetrical hair into a haphazard ponytail. She turned “Try not to kill anyone with that bow, Fly Boy,” she called over her shoulder. 

A few strands of uneven, dark hair came free as she walked away. He couldn’t help it. “A very creative haircut, Strange Hylian!”

“Oh shut up!” A shrill yell replied, echoing from the other end of the forest and scaring several birds from their perches. 

He squawked out a sharp laugh at that.

A few seconds passed and she was finally out of his line of vision. Revali of the Rito was happily alone once again. 

“What an unusual and infuriating woman,” he muttered. He had been distracted and decided that now was a good time as any to take a few minutes to collect his discarded arrows and reset his targets.

Revali trudged towards the oak tree where the troublesome arrow was embedded, feeling slightly amused at the trail of shorn dark hair a few steps away.

He reached out towards the arrow, eyes widening in surprise as he stepped closer.

The once brown wood of the arrow shaft was an ashy, crumbling black. The bird feathers of its fletching emitted an unpleasant sulphurous odour, and the metal of its arrowhead was warped and melted like silver molten clay.

It was completely burnt. 

A strong wind blew through the trees, rustling through his feathers as he took a careful step back.

How odd.

[khhunniewriting]

It Happened So Fast

“Four years Kris, I waited four years for you. The least you can do is give me a few months to have you all to myself.” Even though you got married months ago Kris had been off filming for a movie, postponing your honeymoon.

Kris knew you deserved way more than what you were asking for. All these years he had put his career first and you second. There are plenty of women who would have given up and left. You stayed, you loved him so much that you were willing to wait patiently for him. “I never knew you loved me that much Baby.” He gently tilted your head up by placing one finger under your chin. The height difference had him crouching down to meet your lips no matter how high he tilted your head.

The kiss was a little unexpected, his silence made it seem like he was searching for a way to gently let you down. You thought he would say work was just too good right now for him to take such a long break but the slight smirk he showed right before the kiss gave you hope.

When his lips left yours Kris kept his eyes on their parted state, noticing how they quivered with the loss of contact. The constant rise and fall of your chest made him sure of the fact that he had just taken your breath away.

His gaze was making you uncomfortable, not in a bad way. The way he was staring at you made your face redden and your legs tighten. “What was that for?” you asked when you couldn’t handle the silence any longer.

“To show you what you can expect from me when we are alone for three months.” He loved you more than anything and would properly show it.

“We’re really going?” your voice rose in excitement.

“Yes but first I have to finish the movie promotions.”

“Deal!”

\\\

Kris was careful to enter his home as quietly as possible. The sun had yet to rise, he was sure you were still fast asleep. He took a look around as he rid himself of his suitcase and other belongings. Nothing seemed to have changed in his perspective. It was almost like he hadn’t been gone for the past four weeks.

When he got to the bedroom he was welcomed by the sight of you sleeping in the middle of the bed instead of your usual side. The blankets were kicked off to the foot of the bed, as usual, the only difference he noticed was your hair. It would usually be tied up but right now it was crazily laid out on the pillows and all over your face. You would normally tie it up for his sake. to keep it out of his face but with him gone you let it fall as it pleased.

He approached you silently with no intention of letting you know he was home. However, he couldn’t resist the urge- he had to kiss you. In one swoop of his hand, he moved your wild stray hair out of the way and kissed your forehead.

The kiss tickled, causing you to wake up with a smile. As soon as you saw Kris you remembered everything and proceeded to deprive him of the warm welcome he was expecting. “Oh, you’re back,” you deadpanned. You had gone to bed feeling upset and his face just rekindled that feeling.

“Is that all I get after all this time?” Kris asked unaware of the reason you were acting indifferent.

“I’m sorry, is it upsetting?” you sarcastically asked. “It can’t be as upsetting as finding out your husband is back but hasn’t bothered to call or show up until the next day at...what is it like three in the morning?”

Kris chuckled, it was past four but he wasn’t going to make things worse. He actually liked seeing you get mad but there was a limit. If he got you too mad he would end up sleeping alone on the couch. What he wanted most after being away was to cuddle up next to you.

To your knowledge, Kris wasn’t coming home for another three days. That’s why it was so shocking to see his face all over the internet as he walked through the airport then later a party. All day you waited for him but he never got home.

"Sorry Y/N but the whole reason I came back early was to attend the party. It was all work and no fun.”

“I knew it was work,” you sighed. Sometimes it was hard to love Kris...

“Baby I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“You should have,” you agreed moving over to the other side of the bed. “But it’s too early for apologies. Just go to sleep and we’ll talk later.”

Kris smiled realizing you were no longer upset. He immediately got into bed, not bothering to undress. Without a word, he reached over to your side pulling you in until you were up against his chest. He gave a satisfied sigh at the much-needed comfort this brought him.

You held back a giggle as you thought of how hard it was not to love him when he acted this way. “Comfortable?”

“Very,” he kissed the top of your head before falling asleep.

There was no way you could be mad at his arrival. Even if he snuck in another work-related party into his schedule it was all forgotten because you knew soon you would be on your way to your honeymoon. You couldn’t wait to go to France and binge on all the cheese, wine, and pastries the country had to offer

\\\

Only a few days later Kris was invited to another party. This time it was a formal event where he was encouraged to bring his new wife along. This was going to be your first appearance as a couple since your wedding. You wanted to look your best so you put on a dress one of Kris’ designer friends gifted you. “Can you zip me up?” 

“Of course.” There was a sly smile on Kris’ face when you turned to reveal the open back to him. Sure you could have asked the stylist that had done your makeup to also do this for you but you knew he liked to do the honors. 

As he zipped the dress up Kris ran into a problem. “Ummm...Baby, it’s not closing.”

“What?” You began to panic knowing you had no backup outfit. The dress was the same size as all your other dresses so you never imagined there would be a problem. 

He tried again but was met with resistance. “Did you maybe...gain weight?” Immediately after the last word was spoken Kris regretted asking the question.

You whipped your head around to show your anger. “Did you seriously just ask me-” you cut yourself off and walked away to find the stylist. “My husband is useless, can you please zip up my dress?” You hoped he wouldn’t notice but you had put on some weight unexpectedly.

“Baby I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” Kris had actually noticed a difference in your body after having been reacquainted with it. Your hips, thighs, and even your chest seemed fuller but he wasn’t complaining. On the contrary, he was wanting to embrace you even more. He followed you to the stylist watching with an amused look on his face as she too failed to zip up the designer gown. "I’m just saying if you need another dress we can get you one. It’s no big deal.”

From the front, in your perspective, the long sapphire blue dress seemed to wrap itself around you perfectly. You were especially loving the way your chest and hips seemed to stand out. The problem lied in your abdominal region. No one was able to zip the dress past that area meaning the zipper was stuck at your lower back.”I don’t want another dress, I want this dress!”

Kris was taken back by the tears that threatened to spill out of your eyes. You were never one to cry for something minor like this. He looked to the stylist desperate for a solution.

She quickly looked at her phone checking how much time was left. There was a little over an hour before you two had to leave. “I think I can let out the seams a bit.” After the nodding approval from Kris, she turned to you reassuring that she could get it done. “We only need a tiny bit of wiggle room to get this closed.”

“Really?” you instantly cheered up. It was a good thing too, your makeup was at risk of running down your cheeks if you let those tears out.

She nodded and immediately helped you out of the dress.

Kris came over with your black silk robe, “See Babe, everything’s fine.” He held it up for you as you slid your arms through.

“Yeah,” you beamed at him, glad he had such a wonderful team working for him. Going a step further you stunned him when your arms wrapped around him and rested your head against his chest.

He held you for a moment raising a brow as he wondered if you were always this moody.

At the party, you were arm in arm with Kris. 

You received many compliments on your dress making you forget the whole meltdown instead focusing your efforts on giving your best smile to those who approached you.

Being newlyweds meant everyone expected you to be attached at the hip with nothing but love in your eyes. They were not wrong but there was still something Kris was trying to figure out. 

His answer didn’t come until a few weeks into your honeymoon when you experienced lower back and abdominal pain. Your lower abdomen had become swollen. 

Kris instinctively put his hand over the bump despite your scowl. 

“Stop,” you warned. Kris insisted you looked pregnant but the multiple pregnancy tests you took said otherwise.  The more he insisted, the more you became worried. Your nerves were at an all-time high as you experienced more and more of the quintessential pregnancy symptoms.

Kris didn’t stop. “We should take you to the doctor.”

\\\

"Oh-” the gynecologist gasped at the image that appeared on the screen. She knew you were pregnant from her previous examination of you but it wasn’t till now that she realized exactly how far along you were. “Your baby is already in position.”

Kris didn’t even need the doctor to point it out. He could see it clearly on his own. 

“Is it safe for her to travel like that?”

“Commercial airlines consider up to 36 weeks as safe but you are flying privately so that won’t be a problem.”

“But is it safe,” Kris repeated worriedly about his wife and daughter’s safety.

“Both the baby and mother are healthy,” the doctor assured. “For optimal comfort make sure to wear loose clothing, take regular walks around the plane to allow proper circulation, and watch for nausea.”

Even with the doctor’s approval, Kris hesitated to put you in an airplane. 

“Kris, I was pregnant when we flew here.”

“If I would have known I wouldn’t have brought you.” He tightened his hold on your hand as he anxiously scrolled through his phone. 

“What are you doing?”

“Setting my timer. The doctor said you have to get up every thirty minutes-”

“Relax,” you held his hand in yours reminding him to breathe. 

He exhaled loudly as he looked over to you, his eyes immediately going to your belly. The flowy floral print dress you sported lifted slightly in the front because of it. It was so surreal how he had left with only his wife but was now coming back with a daughter.

“How can I relax when I’m going to be a father so soon? I don’t even have anything ready for her.”

“Neither do I.”

“You’re already doing most of the work.” He sunk back into his seat looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “I didn’t really do much.”

You laughed, “Well we both enjoyed ourselves in the process.”

“We did,” he agreed with laughter of his own. “It’s also going to be fun seeing the shock on people’s faces when they see you come back pregnant. Maybe we should hide wait until the baby is born to go back and really shock them.”

The two of you laughed at the thought of arriving at the airport with a newborn baby to the point where you felt you could literally pee yourself. “Stop making me laugh,” you lightly slapped his thigh. “The baby is already squishing my bladder.”

Kris’ alarm went off signaling you had to get up and stretch your legs. He helped you up and walked right behind you down the small yet spacious aisle of the private jet- afraid you would fall in the occurrence of turbulence.

Once you sat back down you felt her moving. “Yifan she’s kicking again.” You quickly grabbed his hand and placed it on the spot you could feel her movements. 

He forgot all about setting the timer once more as he was absorbed by his little girl. “She needs a name,” he thought out loud.

"Why don’t you name her?”

“Lucy,” he immediately answered. 

"That was fast.” It took Yifan four years to marry you yet he came up with his daughter’s name in seconds. “You sure you don’t want to think about it for four years?”

His answer came in the form of a kiss. Whether it was to silence you or punish you for making fun of him, you didn’t know and didn’t care.

-end-

A/N: Drop by my inbox if you realize where the name comes from. (Hint: it appears in another fic.)

I really didn’t know what to tag. What kind of scenario is this? He’s an ex-KPOP member but he’s no longer there. Maybe CPOP but he does more hip-hop music with American artists so... I just put it all -_-  (not to mention the man is an actor)

Also here is a brief explanation of how someone might not be able to tell they are pregnant like in this fic: Crypto Pregnancy caused by hormone imbalance. If you have PCOS or just any other type of hormonal imbalance, irregular periods, low HCG levels or none at all that can be detected by at home pregnancy tests and sometimes doctors. 

[jarienn972]

A Simple Spell - Chapter Eight

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

I’m a tiny bit late getting this latest chapter of my @cssns story posted this evening but I'm going to try my best to get back on track with posting updates every other Monday as long as the real world doesn't get too crazy.

The last chapter had Emma reacting to learning she was related to the Mills sisters, angrily lashing out at Regina about keeping such a huge secret from her before getting drunk and having a heartfelt talk about it with Killian. As she settled in to sleep off too much rum, Killian was rendered unconscious by an invisible attacker. This chapter picks up the next morning and by the end of this installment, you'll have a good idea who the real villain of this tale is and an inkling of what Emma has gotten herself into.

As always, I want to thank the event organizers for all of their hard work.  Definitely looking forward to the completion of all of this year’s stories and for the newly announced 2020 event!  I also want to extend huge thank yous again to @lassluna for all of her help as a beta reader and to @cocohook38 for the incredible art work featured in the header.

Catch up from the beginning on AO3, FF.net or here on Tumblr:  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven

The morning sunlight filtering through the break room mini blinds was every bit as unpleasant as Emma had expected when it hit that perfect angle to land directly on her face. Her head throbbed from her over-indulgence in rum last night, but she had no one to blame but herself. Tossing the blanket unceremoniously over the back of the sofa, she pushed herself up to a sitting position just as a somewhat bewildered Graham strolled in to brew his morning coffee.

"Emma? What are you doing here?" he asked, face scrunched in confusion. "Did you sleep here?"

"Yeah," she replied groggily as she stretched and forced her feet to the floor. She stood up to find the room only spinning slightly but increasing her nausea. "Had a little familial disagreement so after a few drinks with a friend, I came here to sleep it off."

"Must have been one rough night…"

"You don't even want to know…" she insisted as she made her way into the locker room in search of a change of clothing. She'd learned a long time ago to always keep a clean shirt and a pair of jeans on hand for emergencies. This way, she knew she had something available to make herself feel a little more human and look at tad more presentable before she embarked on her quest to confront those who'd kept her mother's real identity a secret from her. "Are you making coffee?" she called out to Graham as she changed from yesterday's attire.

"Just starting it now."

"Think you can make it extra strong?"

"I think I can manage that," Graham replied as he fished two mugs out of the cabinet mounted above the break room sink. He placed the mugs on the counter, knowing better than to ask anything else about her night. He'd slept off his own drunken benders in some unusual places too, so before switching on the coffee pot, he removed the bottle of aspirin that they kept in the cabinet and placed it next to her mug. He knew she'd appreciate it.

Emma emerged a few minutes later sporting a clean, rust colored tee shirt and blue jeans, eagerly inhaling the enticing aroma of the fresh brew. Graham was no longer in the break room but she immediately smiled when she saw the aspirin bottle atop the counter. Coffee and a few pain relievers were just what she needed right now before she set off down the street to have a chat with a squirrely pawn shop owner.

**********

Fueled by caffeine and a reinvigorated desire to get some answers about her mother's mysterious past, Emma stormed her way across and then down half a block of Main Street with Gold's potion booked clutched tightly in her left hand. Since the aspirin hadn't yet had time to kick in, her head was still pounding which was leaving her in no mood to take any crap from the pawn shop's owner.

Gold had opened up the shop for business at exactly 8AM, mere minutes before Emma shoved open the entrance door and stomped her way to the counter where the proprietor stood. She dropped the book onto the display case in front of him, almost hoping that the glass would break. Unfazed by her action, Gold glanced down at the potion book resting on the countertop then back up at the deputy's irate face.

"Good morning, Deputy Swan," he greeted her with little emotion in his voice and showing a considerable lack of interest in the very item that he'd requested her to retrieve for him.

"I found your book," she informed him very matter-of-factly, patting it with her fingertips to ensure she had his attention. "Found the little surprise inside of it too…"

"Surprise? Whatever are you talking about, Ms. Swan?" She wasn't the least bit surprised that he'd feign ignorance of the photograph and letter and she wasn't buying it.

She flipped open the book's cover to reveal the photo of her mother as a child and the faded, handwritten letter from her grandfather. "I suppose you're going to deny that you knew these were inside the book?"

Gold shrugged nonchalantly as he carefully lifted the aging photograph to examine it. "I loaned this book to Cora a very long time ago. I certainly can't speak for what she might have stuck inside it's covers."

"But you knew…"

"Knew what, Dearie?" he rudely interrupted her statement.

"You knew that Cora and my mother were sisters," she stated, undaunted by his apparent disinterest. "Why is it that everyone in this town thinks that it's such a horrible thing for me to know who I'm actually related to around here?"

"I would suppose it is because they weren't certain how you might react to learning the truth about your mother."

"And I suppose that it should have been left up to me, not them!" she countered, raising her voice angrily. "I've had it with all of the secrets! I want those items that belonged to my mother as I kept my end of the deal and I want you to spill what you know about my history!"

"Do you think you can handle the truth about your lineage?"

"I'll let you know. Now, why don't you start telling me what the big secrets are?"

"Fine," he relented as he made his way over to the ornate cabinet where he'd stored the items belonging to Ava Nolan. "You fulfilled your end of our deal by returning my book so your mother's items now belong to you." He tugged open the cabinet door and removed the small box and books he'd shown Emma the previous day and then placed them atop the counter. "I will answer some of your questions as a courtesy to your mother as well, but not out here. How about we go have a seat in my office where it will be more private for you to interrogate me?"

"Lead the way…"

Gold held the heavy beaded curtain aside as he gestured for Emma to pass through the doorway to his office and storeroom that lay beyond the sales floor. The decor of this not-for-public-eyes area was even more eclectic and disturbing than the shop itself but since she wasn't here to debate his decorating choices, she withheld commentary. She was only here this morning to learn about her mother, not discuss interior decorating.

"Have a seat, Ms. Swan," he said, directing her to a fancy upholstered chair that was probably as old as the town itself. Emma sat down on the offered chair, but she didn't allow herself to get too comfortable. She wasn't planning this to be a long, social visit. "I don't have all of the answers you seek, but what would you like to know?" he asked as he took a seat to her right on a burgundy divan.

"I guess we'll start with the same one I've been asking since last night - why was my mother's identity and place in this town such a secret?"

"That was a choice made by your family, I'm afraid. As you know, Storybrooke is a town with an unusual pedigree that they sought to protect. How much of the history of this town do you know?"

"I know a little. I know it was founded by the Blanchard family after the Civil War, in the late 1800's."

"That is correct - your great-grandparents founded the town in 1872, selecting this remote area of Maine to create a safe haven for those who wished to practice the magical arts, both dark and light. They welcomed fellow witches and warlocks and opened a portal across the bay to connect to other magical realms. However, the magic that Storybrooke was founded upon came with a price. To secure the magic that supports the town's infrastructure, your great-grandparents formed a pact with a very powerful warlock from a distant realm. That warlock agreed to share his extensive powers with the town of Storybrooke in exchange for an agreement that he could return whenever he chose and demand a duel for the powers of any practitioner he chose. Should his chosen competitor lose, he would gain their powers, Should the opponent win, the warlock would consider the debt paid and leave forever."

"That seems like an awfully big price to pay just to have magic in this town, but I don't get what that has to do with my mother…"

"I'm getting to that," he assured her, frowning at the young woman's impatience. "The warlock has returned to Storybrooke twice since the town's inception and has won the challenge both times. Your mother was his unfortunate second victim."

"She lost her powers?" Emma asked, partially for clarification, although she'd understood Gold's explanation of the warlock's competition, so she already knew the answer.

"She did. Her challenge caused her to be tricked into making an ill-advised choice, but that's really all I know of it. After losing her magic, she attempted to stay here in town and live a normal life. She married widower Robert Nolan, had you, but then one day, something changed and she took you and disappeared."

"When I was growing up, she never once mentioned that she'd had powers of any kind," Emma stated as she attempted to process all of this new information. "I always thought that she'd run from something bad, maybe something abusive, but after meeting David and learning about our dad, that didn't make sense anymore and now it makes even less sense… What caused her to run away from her home and family?"

"I'm afraid that you'll need to ask those questions of your family. I can't tell you what pushed her away or why they kept her identity a secret from you, but now, if you don't mind, I should be getting back to work."

"I understand. One last question though," she began as she stood up. "Do you have any idea what ill-advised choice she had to make?"

"Afraid not, dearie. All I know is that the warlock came into town and weaseled his way into her life, leading her to that decision. She chose poorly."

"What the hell did she have to choose?" Emma repeated the question to herself while exhaling a deep sigh.

Gold shook his head and shrugged as he ushered her out of his office. "I don't remember much from that time, but from what I do recall of your mother, it likely involved a man."

"What?" she exclaimed as she crossed the threshold back into the main shop. "What do you mean by that?"

"Growing up, your mother had very bad luck with the men in her life. Your grandfather died when she was still rather young and she had a string of boyfriends but few serious relationships. Perhaps your brother or your cousins will remember more?"

"Well, this just keeps getting better and better…," she muttered under her breath as the old man disappeared behind the curtain without another word. Befuddled, she gathered up the few belongings her mother had left with Gold, collected the photograph of her mother and aunt along with her grandfather's letter and wandered out to the sidewalk completely lost in thought. She now had the knowledge that her mother had once possessed magical powers but lost them after being on the losing end of some sort of challenge from an evil warlock - a challenge that had involved some sort of choice - but what? By Gold's description, this challenge had taken place a few years before her mother had run away to Boston so it didn't seem as though the loss of her magic had been the catalyst that caused her to bolt. So, what had it been? What choice had the warlock forced her to make? Had it actually involved a man like Gold had suggested or was there more to it?

She was anxious to see what was inside the mysterious box Gold had held onto for all of these years and to learn more about the books that accompanied the box. First though, she had to take a break and feed her grumbling stomach. The coffee had been a good way to start the morning, but she needed to fuel her growling belly and Granny's was tantalizingly close… Three or four more cups of industrial strength coffee couldn't hurt either.

She took a step into the street, barely noticing the car parked curbside in front of the pawn shop and too distracted by her own thoughts to realize that there was another person in her path. She walked straight into that unseen pedestrian, the collision sending them both tumbling to the asphalt. Emma managed to hold on to her mother's box, but the books fell from her grasp.

"I'm so sorry…,' she began to apologize profusely to the man she'd collided with. "I wasn't looking where I was going��" She pushed herself to her knees and began to gather her belongings, almost afraid to look to see who she had so awkwardly run into. "Are you alright? I hope I didn't knock you over too hard…"

"It's alright, Emma…," the familiar voice said with a chuckle. "This isn't exactly how I planned to run into you, but I'm not going to complain." Recognizing the voice, she flushed with embarrassment. It may have only been Walsh, but she would rather he not see her this flustered.

"Walsh, I guess we literally ran into each other," she said with a shy, awkward grin. "I'm really sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"No worries. I wasn't really paying attention either. I was just heading over to visit Mr. Gold and see if there were any updates on my incoming shipment. What about you? I thought you were off today but that intensity in your gaze says otherwise."

"Oh, I was just returning a book to Gold in exchange for this old stuff that used to belong to my mother. Now I'm heading over to Granny's to get some breakfast and take a look at this stuff. Wanna join me? I'll buy to make up for getting your suit all dirty…"

"I just might take you up on that offer," he said as he brushed some invisible dust off of his dark, coffee bean brown suit. Yeah, she had coffee cravings on her brain again… "Let me finish up my business here but I'll stop over when I'm all done."

"Sounds good," she replied with a hopeful smile. "I'll take my time. After last night, I'll probably need to go through a couple of pots of coffee…"

"Last night? What happened last night?"

"Let's just call it an interesting night that ended in a few too many drinks after having way too much unloaded on me too quickly…"

"Ah… I have heard that the full moon can lead to some overwhelming revelations around here…"

"Oh, just a few revelations… But I'd better let you get back to business. I'll save you a seat if you decide to take me up on the breakfast offer."

"Sounds great, Emma. I'll try to keep things short," he offered, not exactly promising that he'd make it but leaving her hopeful that she might gain some company for breakfast. She had so much to process and she hadn't even gotten to the relatives yet. Maybe it was best to have someone to share the discoveries with her instead of sitting in the diner alone?

Walsh held the smile on his face until as Emma continued (cautiously this time) across the quiet street towards her intended destination of Granny's diner. Once her back was fully to him and he was no longer in her purview, he straightened his sport coat and reset his composure. Projecting a decidedly more business-like demeanor, he entered the pawn shop to seek out its owner.

Alerted by the jingle of the bell attached to the door handle, Gold knew that someone had come into the store, but believing it to be the deputy returning with more inquiries, he responded before poking his head around the curtain.

"If you're back for more, there's not much else I can tell you," Gold said as he stepped around the room divider to see that the person awaiting him in the lobby wasn't Emma Swan, awkwardly finding the face of Walsh Gibbons instead.

"More about what?" a confused and curious Walsh asked as he noted Gold's reaction.

"Mr. Gibbons. My apologies. I thought Ms. Swan was returning with some additional questions about the items she just obtained from me." Gold did his best to conceal his embarrassment over his faux pas of making the statement before confirming his audience.

"Ah, yes, she mentioned that she'd traded for some old items of her mother's."

"A few small things," Gold said, not intending to go into further detail. "So, how can I help you today, Mr. Gibbons? As you're aware, the ship carrying the items you desire isn't due into port until Monday. The captain expects to be in the harbor around noon should fair winds prevail."

"Yes, I'm aware of that delay. I'm actually here for something else, specifically some assistance with a particular potion…," Walsh informed him as he reached into the right hand pocket of his sport coat, withdrawing a folded slip of paper that he slid across the glass countertop to Gold. "Think you can put that together for me?"

The pawn shop owner picked up the paper warily, slowly unfolding it to see what was being requested of him. "I believe I have all of the ingredients for this but whatever do you need it for?"

"That is my business," Walsh replied with haughty tone. "Your business is to make it for me, right?" Gold found himself reminded of his conversation earlier that week when he'd assured Emma that his dealings with Walsh were strictly business. Clearly word had reached Gibbons who was now throwing it back at him. "How long will it take?" Walsh asked to snap Gold back to the present.

"If I have everything required, I can have it to you in about an hour. Let me take a quick gander at my storeroom."

"Please do. I'll wait."

Gold vanished behind the heavy fabric divider while Walsh waited impatiently to learn if the potion could be completed in a timely manner. The shopkeeper was out of sight for less than two minutes when he returned with his response. "I do have all of the necessary ingredients. The potion will be ready for you in an hour."

"Perfect. I guess I'll go take Emma up on her breakfast offer while I wait," Walsh grinned. "See you in an hour."

Gold stood silently behind the counter as Walsh exited his shop. He'd made many potions for Gibbons over the years they'd been doing business together, but this latest request had him puzzled. It was unusual, even for Gibbons, but business was business.

**********

Elsewhere in Storybrooke, (at least he hoped he was still in Storybrooke) Killian Jones had awakened in near total darkness. His last recollection was of walking a very tipsy Emma to the Sheriff's station then returning to the Jolly Roger - but how long ago had that been? There was no way to know if it was day or night or whether minutes or hours had passed. He vaguely recalled a choking sensation that he might have dismissed as a dream were it not for the lingering ache in his neck.

He knew he was no longer aboard his ship as there was nothing familiar to any of his senses - no gentle rocking and swaying on the bobbing waves nor any scent of marine air or teakwood. No, wherever he was, it was dank and dark. There was no light filtering in through any crack in the stone or cement walls of this chamber and there was a musty, earthy odor to his surroundings.

Where the hell was he?

Using the nearest wall both for support and to gain his bearings, Killian pushed himself upright, immediately realizing that he was missing something - his hook. He knew he'd been wearing it when he'd left Emma but now its familiar weight wasn't there. He still wore the brace that secured it yet the prosthetic implement itself had been removed.

A renewed vulnerability washed over him as he inched his way along the wall in the inky blackness yet he was determined to take stock of this prison. His hand felt for any recess or crack that might signify a possible exit as he made his way to the chamber's first corner. He continued moving to his right along the second wall discovering that it was little more than an arm-span distance between the corners. Whatever this awful hole was, it was narrow.

The third wall proved to be only slightly longer than the second which provided him a rough estimate of the room's dimensions - approximately six or seven feet wide and perhaps nine or ten feet wide. It would be about the size of a small storage room or closet - or even an actual prison cell.

But at least there was some hope. As he reached the next bend, his hand came in contact with wood. A door frame. A doorway. At least if the room had a way in, there was a chance he could find a way out, although that might prove a tad more difficult without his hook. His hand surveyed the frame and door in search of a key hole or some type of locking mechanism but he found neither. Whatever purpose this chamber served, it was secured from outside which left him with the chilling realization that it just might be a prison cell and he was its unfortunate occupant.

Questions flooded his brain as his psyche tried to make sense of his situation. Where the hell was he and how the bloody hell did he get here? He didn't remember leaving the Jolly Roger, at least not willingly. He'd sensed no one else on deck with him and a skirmish would certainly have drawn the attention of his crew.

Someone had brought him here and locked him away in this miserable, lonely pit, but who? He'd barely been in this port for a week but had he unexpectedly crossed someone unwittingly? There was so much he needed to know…

"Hello?" he shouted in the direction of the sealed door, unsure if anyone would even be listening. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Hearing nothing except the echo of his own voice and the pounding of his heart, Killian slumped against the nearest wall. He knew he needed to think this through and to conserve his energy. There was no indication of any water or provisions left here for him so either his captor planned to bring him sustenance or he was intended to slowly starve to death - the latter being an option he wasn't prepared to consider.

[laughingdarkdreams]

Aetherpoisoning is an affliction related to being in places with a thick concentration of the element. The details of the condition are different depending on the amount of aether buildup, as well as the subjects resistance to the element.

At all stages, the subject may feel like something is inherently wrong. It has been described in many ways, among the more common symptoms are: Hearing music Hearing voices Minor phenomenon (moving objects, appearing objects, lapses in memory, etc.) Panic A sense of unreality that may never go away Minor precognition

While it would be easiest to dismiss these as hallucinations, these symptoms are often observable with outside devices.

In early stages of Aetherpoisoning, heart rate is elevated. There may be shaking, nausea, and dizziness. Most of the time, symptoms are minimal, though there are those who are more easily effected by the element. Those effected will often not even be aware of the presence of the element in the first place only seeing it as an odd mood that comes along ever so often.

In the middle stages of exposure, the condition drastically worsens. New symptoms show up. often presenting themselves as beings that range anywhere between comforting and nostalgic to horrific and hostile have been described. These beings have had observable effects on their surroundings, so they cannot be dismissed as illusion. With the frequency of these beings appearing, the subject will often lose sight of reality at this stage. Try to keep the subject grounded, and tell them that it isn't real. No matter what the evidence against you is, insist, even at your own peril, that it is not real. They cannot be allowed to believe it is real. Cannot know. The only way they can be saved is if they do not listen to the strange beings. Without fail, the beings will increase the potency of their condition.

In the final stages, the afflicted and those around them will begin seeing things akin to delusional fever dreams. Amidst the chaos of the noises of the creatures the places that they have seen the echoes of things that are not they will disappear. Some of them just flickering out. Some of them walking out of a door, or into a hallway or room that wasn't present before Some of them crying and following something, perhaps just a feeling, knowing they have no choice Some of them happily talking to something only they can see and going into another room or through a wall and just vanishing. Sometimes, the onlookers will be pulled into this disappearance as well. The more people that disappear, the more the area is pulled closer to aether.

The only testimony we have received is from two people in the the final stages. The first from a man in his early 30's. He claimed that his friend had come to pick him up. His first words to this friend were "Oh, right. I'm sorry you died." And then paused for a second and asked "Was...it wrong? to be to be like this? I'm tired. I don't want to go in there. It's scary. That gray man is in there." He paused for a second and then asked "Are you sure?" and then seemed to hesitate, staring at a wall for a long moment. A moment later, he was gone.

When his friends and family were interviewed, he has never had a friend die. He used to dream of a young boy around his own age when he was seven always afraid of the gray man who lived "in the tunnel" he would play with this boy in his dreams. As a child, he would always point to a hill near his house and say "That is where the tunnel is." Upon investigation, there was no direct tunnel in the direction indicated, however there was something strange. There were minimal readings of aether. There was a small building buried on the site. A formerly aboveground tomb was there. When first seen on site there was a large tunnel inside of the archway, much deeper than the small building would allow and a light, very far away at the end of the tunnel. However, when light was shined in the tunnel a moment later, it revealed itself to be a single small room with a single empty grave in it. There are no traces of anybody ever having been buried here. The area was closed off immediately.

The second was from a young girl around the age of twelve. She was afraid. Didn't want to be taken. Said she would take a picture so that we would be able to find her if she disappeared. She was kept under constant watch at all hours, and was kept separate from anything that was connected to the element. She seemed to be struggling to stay awake near the late hours of the night. We asked her why she didn't rest. She replied "Didn't you ask me not to say anything? Not to sleep?" We told her we didn't. "You told me you would take off the pig heads if I didn't say anything and didn't sleep." She was visibly upset. The men in the room were highly disturbed. She began crying inconsolably and started speaking very quickly. "Why did you have to stop the walls breathing? Was it my fault that I did this? Where is the seaside? Who are you? Where are you? Why are there so many hands? Why are there so many hands? Why are there so many hands? Where are you? What is that music? Why is it under everything?" Suddenly, she seemed to have a very lucid moment, and said one thing staring directly at me trying her hardest not to cry but breaking up a little bit "Don't let them take me." She sobbed. There was a digital camera on the ground a second later. She was nowhere to be seen. The camera had a single picture on it. A tunnel. A tunnel with a light at the end. With careful observation you can see a strangely proportioned human figure at the end of the tunnel seeming to wave at the camera behind it, in the light there is a small opening where you can see a green hill overlooking a cliffside. Even the smallest observation of this picture will often result in hallucinations of the figure waving in real time or of the sound of waves or a music box a music box that won't stop playing that sounds so familiar and the words choked out in a sob in a child’s voice "Don't let them take me."

[danielxrk]

    DANIEL & HEEJIN   ✞ DON’T RECALL *   BAND REMIX                            ( :9-:39, 1:32-1:52, 2:03-3:15 ) 

( * mentioned, some very briefly: @rkxsungwoon @rkkenta @rkmason @moonbokrk @rkheejin @rkminhyun @rkpwj )

it already feels familiar: sitting after his interview, holding the hands of the empty enigma members on either side of him (sungwoon and kenta this time) and waiting. he doesn't expect it to be any different this time and he doesn't know why; this skill round in itself is different, and yet he's still surprised when the judges call the top three of each skill to the stage. they’re mostly what he expects, and while he knew he had no right to be in the top three, there was part of him that hoped his original rap might’ve earned him a spot. it still leaves him with enough room to feel disappointed despite all rational thought-- despite knowing he isn't nearly skilled enough to compete with anyone here, let alone top them. when minho wins, daniel nods from his place in the audience, because this doesn't surprise him in the slightest. it's well deserved, as far as daniel's concerned. he can't even look at him without wondering how he could possibly compete with him, but could any of them?

a bigger part of him is convinced he's going home when all of the rappers are brought on stage for the eliminations. he feels the absence of all of the empty enigma members here more than he ever has, standing there by himself, surrounded once again by people he knows are more talented than him and are likely hoping for his demise in return for their survival. he can't blame them. he looks down at his feet, shuts his eyes, and prays for the sake of his nerves: god, please give me strength to face any result here. give me strength in general. please stop my hands from shaking, and give me confidence, and i'll trust that whatever happens is for the best, but he wants to stay. there's a fire in him this year that wasn't there the last, and that fights against the possibility of being eliminated on the same challenge he was last year, but he knows it's possible. he knows it's likely.

baek jiyoung says kang, and daniel's heart is in his throat, and he's so certain it'll be him. he's so ready to step forward and graciously accept defeat, convinced he gave the competition this year everything he had to offer, and he just wasn't as good as the others. and yet it isn't-- it's not him, and many of his nerves are replaced with guilt, and a new sick feeling in his stomach. that feeling only grows when the next name is a jang, and he knows who it will be before jiyoung even finishes. moonbok. how could he stay over moonbok? they were both returning contestants from last year, moonbok with...objectively more talent than daniel-- someone he was rooting for, someone he was so sure would find success this season, and yet daniel still stands and moonbok does not. he looks at him as he stands in the front line, and daniel's legs feel shaky, and there's no relief in his safety, only a dread, and the feeling that he doesn't deserve this, and a new, strange feeling of inadequacy.

he returns to his seat with the empty enigma members, oddly silent, and he's sure they can tell something is off, especially when they celebrate on his behalf and he's just vacant. the nausea won't leave him be; he wonders if he'll carry it with him this whole week, or if his mindset will change-- if he'll manage to use this chance given to him that the others didn't receive to make sure it wasn't given in vain. he feels that desire building up in him by the minute: this desperation to prove that he can honor the others with his place in the competition, even if he doesn't deserve it. he tries to carry it with him as his friends take to the stage, and push on to the next round.

it takes a few moments to really register that all of the members have made it another round, and when he does, he gets that first real feeling of relief, and he smiles. he grabs kenta and sungwoon's hands and squeezes them, a gesture he hopes conveys his pride in them where his voice, still too weak to make an appearance, can't.

there isn't much time to celebrate, however, as katie lee soon reveals. duos. first comes confidence; he trusts in his ability to collaborate. if he did it last year in groups, surely he's better at it now, and working with only one other person will lend itself better to the exchange of ideas. however, his stomach plummets again at the revelation that they will be judged and eliminated by duo, and it only gets worse when his partner is revealed. he'll be weighing down jeon heejin, winner of the vocal category. she's far too good for him, and surely, that much is abundantly clear.

the recording ends, everyone getting up to be on their way, and when everyone stands, daniel's eyes bob around the dispersing crowd and finally land on heejin. he's so overwhelmed by fear-- so immensely intimidated, but still forces himself forward to meet her, and bows to her. "hello heejin-ssi," he greets her, certain it's awkward and stiff. "i'm sorry you're paired with me. i know i'm lacking, but i'll do my best so you aren't weighed down by me too harshly," and he bows again.

that intimidation doesn't go away, especially on their first day of meeting together to discuss songs. he is haunted by a sense of inferiority, and one he's certain is totally justified. heejin is just better than him in every way: more talented, more poised, more certain, more ambitious, more purposeful. he barely knows her, but it's just the feeling he gets, like she is so certain she belongs here and has what it takes to win, and daniel is only familiar with that feeling...once in a blue moon-- certainly not now. he feels like he has no right to contribute anything here, and is perfectly content to let heejin take the reigns and simply try to fill in and pull his own weight. it's only right.

"do you...have any ideas?" he asks, hesitantly, quietly, after some time spent in daniel's living room, heejin on his couch and him on the floor, perhaps a physical symbol of the difference in standing he sees between them. they're both on their phones, searching for songs, and he looks up at her, barely able to meet her gaze, and as silly as it is, he's apparently utterly terrified of his duo partner. it's not just that; it mainly stems from his mortification at the prospect-- no, inevitability-- that he will weigh her down, even to the point of eliminating her with all of her talent and all of her potential. without his negative influence, she could win. he doesn't want to stop her. for now, it paralyzes him, and all he can hope is that the further this week progresses, the more that fact will drive him.

heejin shares her thoughts with him, and he nods along. "any of that sounds good," he says, resigned to do whatever heejin chooses. "whatever you want to do the most," and he's so willing. he doesn't even want to share his opinions, he's so certain heejin knows better than he ever could. yet heejin says what about you? and daniel pauses. he could just say nothing yet, but he doesn't want to be that partner that makes heejin do all of the work, even for as little as he's against it.

truthfully, he does have an idea. there was a song he covered last year by a group composed of both guys and girls, and his mind drifts to it now that they could benefit from something like it. he doesn't know any of their songs other than hola hola, though, and can't remember the group's name anymore. "maybe," he admits after his silence. "but i'm not quite sure yet. let me check something...but you can keep looking! i don't know if it's even a good idea," and he searches hola hola kpop and finds it, and finds the group too. "something by kard?" he voices, but always with trepidation. "i did a kard song last year with the team i was leader for," and he almost adds and we won, but he doesn't want to brag in front of someone who has more of a right to. to his utter shock, heejin responds positively, and apparently she knows and likes the group. "we can do whatever song you like most," he adds, quickly, already embarrassed for suggesting something at all.

he looks through more of their songs, ultimately ambivalent, and heejin brings up don't recall, so he listens, and he likes it too, at least as much as he can like an idol song. "can you play any instruments?" he asks, suddenly, and maybe he'll regret it later, but now, an idea churns in his head, and it's something he might be confident in. he quickly adds an addendum: "i don't remember if you already played instruments on the show so far, sorry," and the last thing he wants is for heejin to think she's forgettable. but heejin says guitar, and daniel grins: "me too! i play bass in my band, though." then he moves up to the couch, fear suddenly outweighed by his growing excitement.

then, he explains his thoughts: all of the the instruments he can replace all of the song's synths and synthetic basslines with, each part, explains that he wants to avoid dancing, that they can make a band version with just the two of them, if heejin is willing to play guitar and she says it's different, and that she likes it, and that she's willing to do it. "then let's get to it," heejin adds. "last time i did this my team won. let's do it," daniel says with a grin, sure enough of himself with an idea he actually has faith in.

maybe he has more to offer than he thought.

he warms up to heejin more and more as their week goes on-- feels like he rises to her level more and more too, though what they bring to the table is entirely different. he likes it better that way; they compliment each other like this, and if he dares, he thinks their performance will be a strong one-- that they might even be able to win, combining both the things that helped daniel pull out a win last time.

they stand in a recording studio now, heejin tagging along despite daniel recording all of the parts for their instrumental himself. (it might be boring for you but if you want, you can come? we can record the guitar parts too if you want, but they'd be cooler if we do them fully live and  we have to do what will make our performance the best. let me come. we can get in more practice this way, too.)

maybe recording the keyboard and drums is hubris on daniel's part, but he's determined to give them the fullest sound they can, and if he wants to claim instruments as his best skill, he better know his way around these, too. he'd rather real drums, but he's resigned to a drum machine this time, and he's picked enough of the keyboard up from sungwoon that he believes he can play the melody for it he has in mind. it's nothing too complicated, and if he can't trust in his skills here, he can't trust in them anywhere.

he shows heejin the basics of the recording equipment so she can work it for him when he's in the booth. ("i guess it's not so boring after all. i'm putting you to work," he laughs, and heejin does too, but she seems like the type to always want to be working on something, so he's more glad than anything.)

he plays through the keyboard parts experimentally in the booth first, making sure they match what's in his head (and the notes he scrawled out on a piece of paper when he first thought of it to make sure he didn't forget), and then he gives heejin a thumbs up-- the signal for them to start.

they practice after that, with their instrumental and without it, rehearsal after rehearsal. (do you have an electric guitar? and no, just acoustic and you can use mine.)

under different circumstances-- a daniel of six months ago -- might develop a crush on heejin by the end of the week, but he's matured since the start of this year. in reality, by the end of the week, all he has is an immense amount of respect for her, and the unbreakable desire not to let her down.

they walk into the venue together, and his eyes rake over the smaller amount of chairs, always diminishing, always unsettling. he feels almost naked beside heejin instead of the empty enigma members, and when they sit down in their assigned seats, he searches for them on instinct. he sees minhyun and sungwoon in his row, not so far from him, but far enough that he feels their absence-- too far to talk to in between performances like he usually would. he still leans forward in his chair, looking over at them, and he waves until he gets their attention, only to wave more with a big smile on his face. it's all he really wants to do-- all he can do from his position, but he hopes they know he's supporting them, just like he knows they are for him. he stares across the stage, and he can't even see kenta and woojin. his eyebrows knit together in concern, but he knows they're out there, and he looks forward to when he'll see them all on stage even more.

he doesn't know what any of them are performing this week; he's spent an uncharacteristically small amount of time with his bandmates for this round, most of his time divided between heejin and playing his bass part and running his lines over and over again in his own apartment, and decompressing, and trying to balance work and school on top of it all, even with the classes here and there he's starting to skip and the fewer shifts he's picking up. he could keep up with it all when it was just him, but with someone else's fate in his hands, his desperation grew, as did his drive to practice-- and sacrifice for it.

sitting beside heejin now, her company is appreciated, and not something he fears anymore. now, they're comfortable with each other, and maybe at least something approaching friends. sitting beside her, he doesn't quite feel like he belongs there, but that he's not so out of place-- maybe not the partner she deserves, but a worthy one, regardless. over the past week, he contributed as much as he could-- far more than he thought heejin would allow, and he's grateful or that. he's given it everything he has, and now it's just time to translate that to the stage.

despite unfamiliar circumstances, daniel feels a strange lack of nerves, perhaps the most comfortable and settled in of any rounds so far, and it's probably due to the amp and bass propped up against his chair, one hand steadying his guitar. there are only 20 performances this time around, so daniel has no trouble paying attention, and finds the duos more engaging than watching everyone perform on their own-- fascinated by two totally different performers finding a way to merge their talents in a week's time. he and heejin sit in a comfortable silence, only minimally awkward; daniel wasn't usually the one in empty enigma to initiate conversation during the filming of the show, always more in his element listening and observing than talking, though the difference between the two wasn't so substantial with friends. here, with heejin, she isn't so familiar. still, he looks over at her frequently, wordlessly checking on her, offering a close-lipped smile every time they make eye contact-- silent reassurance, though heejin probably doesn't need it. she's at home on stage, maybe more than anyone else in this room. she just belongs there.

there's part of him that wants to reach out for her hand and hold it, like this is some habit and tradition of his mga5 experience-- like he doesn't feel completely rooted and prepared without such, but he doesn't think they're close enough for that, so he resists. instead, his fingers drum against his knee, not exactly out of unease, but a certain restlessness and eagerness to take to the stage, something running through his blood similar to the way it does before he takes the stage as cameo-- that same excitement, that energy, that undeniable pull to the stage and buzzing in his nerve endings.

the judges call their name, and daniel looks over at heejin with a blooming grin. "let's do this," he says, and he slings his bass over his shoulder, and it brings that familiar feeling of comfort-- affinity, like he's only one step short of being at home on this stage, too.

they stand on stage, both with two different electric guitars, and daniel bows to the audience, then to the judges. heejin introduces herself first, and daniel follows soon after her: "kang daniel," and it falls to him to introduce their performance, too. "we'll be performing don't recall by kard, but a little differently."

they circle back to the center of the stage, set up their instruments, and then they're ready to play. daniel adjusts his microphone, then he nods, a signal to start their instrumental. his hands fall back to his bass, like they're meant to be there. begin.

heejin starts the performance off as they should: with the sheer power of her voice. daniel is there too from the beginning, in the background-- the bassline, and there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

heejin finishes off the first verse, and then it's his turn, opening up the prechorus, singing.

don’t look at me like that don’t push me away no more i gave you all my love love all of my love love never want to let you go

truthfully, the lyrics were far from the reason he wanted to go with this song-- a complete non-factor, actually, but for this performance, he thinks the feeling is more important than the meaning anyway. it needs to come across as cool and powerful, and a little bit groovy, with the emotional expression taking a backseat to the attitude.

he only gets a beat to breathe, their pre-chorus cut in half for the purpose of their performance, not a pre-chorus for them so much as an interlude. instead of the chorus, it leads into his one and only rap verse. he glances sideways at heejin beside him, then steps a little closer to his mic, gaze shifting to challenge the lens of the camera.

loneliness lingers on my skin gives me shudders, blame it on our neglect guilt follows me like a shadow decal uh comania, my price to pay for all the stupidity in my past tangled like a ball of thread, pointless living in the faded memory, miserable i hope that i hope you hear my monologue it’s not showmanship, it’s true

he doesn't worry too much about coming across as particularly emotionally tortured, more like coming across a little smooth and dark, but he doesn't even really worry about it; in reality, he trusts in his ability to do so much. sometimes, when he steps on stage-- if he lets it happen-- it's like a switch flips. the bass is a direct line to cameo-- makes him easier to awaken and channel when daniel is so in his element, so all of those learned skills come through: the flirtation, the boldness, the bravado, and he puts it through a filter for this performance. this is another side of himself too, and one he's glad to split between rapping and singing, indicative of his intention to carry every skill he picks up here with him, and to add them to his pool to draw upon later.

regardless, the rap isn't so hard for him to relate to. he knows guilt, and mistakes so etched into his heart it's like a decal. he thinks of all the people he's hurt despite his good intentions, whether he needs to or not-- of the mistakes he's made with them, of yujin, of ricky, of eunji, and all the others he feels nothing but a step away from hurting too. maybe having cameo as a disguise discounts any words coming from daniel now, but he still wants them heard-- still means them, especially his apologies-- and he wants everyone to hear this song, too.

then it's his turn to sing again, that same pat of the pre-chorus, now supported by heejin's spotless harmonies, and he looks to her as he sings.

don’t look at me like that don’t push me away no more i gave you all my love love all of my love love never want to let you go

it ends off on a rap, and it finally guides them to the chorus this time, voices melding into harmonies once again.

don’t recall when we were good together haunts me like a ghost like there will be no tomorrow heart pounding moments no no no no no don’t mean a thing anymore stop, i don’t recall

his fingers flit over the frets of his bass as he sings, an unusually complicated bass part to supplement an already dynamic chorus-- just as he intended with his arrangement, though it will likely be drowned out by their voices. in the end, he intends for that, too, even as the bass takes a bit of a front seat compared to heejin's guitar for now. it's a fair tradeoff, because heejin's voice drives this chorus, and the performance as a whole. daniel is and always has been just along for the ride with her, doing everything he can to make her sound as good as she deserves.

next comes the bridge, and a series of adlibs, and now, heejin's guitar is in charge.

don’t mean a thing anymore stop, i don’t recall

it's something of the song's peak-- a pinnacle, and the most difficult vocal work daniel does all song. he meets heejin's gaze for it, temporarily turning away from their audience to find assurance in her eyes. it's the part he practiced most on his own and with her, running over it time and time again to ensure their seamless harmony, asking for heejin's advice every time he fell flat, and it all comes to a head in this moment, where for a moment, he has dreams of meeting her-- of rising to the challenge of matching her, and he's there, and he does, and heejin's impeccable voice makes up for where his lacks as they layer over each other.

more adlibs, and they repeat the song again, but this time, daniel can relax into it knowing the most difficult part of it is over. he leans in, and reminds himself to enjoy this-- that he may not get to stand on stage like this again at all, let alone with his bass, and relishes in how lucky he is, and how grateful he is that heejin gave him the opportunity to perform with her this way.

he sings his final solo parts of the song, and even then, it's not really solo, because as he does, heejin, for lack of a better term, absolutely goes off.

you don’t mean it i know know know know know know say you don’t mean those words baby i can’t let you go can’t let you go no no no

it's a suitable end to the song, and they finish with that familiar, final hook.

don’t mean a thing anymore stop, i don’t recall

his hand rests on the neck of his bass, even as he bows and makes his way off stage with heejin, their amps in tow, a brief struggle to get back down the stairs and to their seats, but when they do sit down, it's with the feeling that he's really shown everything he can.

his survival is one thing; he can only hope he's assured heejin hers.