#i was like 13/14 and it consumed my every waking thought

[pxrxmoore]

out of the depths of fuckin nowhere while running a fever last night my torchwood obsession was re-awakened within me. and also apparently livejournal still exists and people still post there???????

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 26. together

chapter tags/warnings: a very broken marriage. heavy angst. at least i am not gege. mai and maki and megumi as an iconic trio. infidelity/adultery. family drama. strong language. corruption. 

word count: 4.8k

notes: thank you for the overwhelming reception from the last chapter! work has been consuming my life, sadly, which is why this chapter took longer than i anticipated. gr. in this upcoming piece, though, my main focuses are the character development in y/n as well as explanations from toji himself. enjoy! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

A large, warm hand massaged the delicate stretch between your thumb and forefinger. 

Gently. Leisurely. Daintily. 

Vanilla and cinnamon notes entered your lungs with every inhale, a velvetiness akin to everything you imagined clouds to be like if brushing against your cheek, the comforting sensations bringing back nostalgic memories from the carefree times your heart longed to return to. 

Was this Heaven? you wondered in this dark and dreamy daze.

You would not mind staying in this state eternally if that meant the promise of peace and quiet forever.

A voice, not from yourself, dispersed your thoughts.

“Suguru, what are the chances she won’t ever wake up?” 

Wake up?

Oh, so you were just asleep.

“Shut up, Sukuna,” another person quipped, this tone more leveled and coarser than the last. “Don’t say shit like that.”

The first person, who must be Sukuna then, chuckled lowly to himself. “Oh, who would’ve thought? Choso is having a soft spot?” he marveled with great interest, “Since when did you care so much about—”

But a third voice interrupted the banter. “She’s awake.”

After a long struggle, your eyes fluttered open to see a crowd gathered around you. Immediately beside you was Suguru Geto. He had been the one nestling your hand, but he practically didn’t look like himself with the concern etched into his brow, replacing the cheerfulness in his typical visage. Behind him stood Sukuna and Choso. The former grinned with fierce satisfaction, while the latter…scowled at you?

To be fair, Choso always scowled at you.

“Good evening, gorgeous.” Geto greeted with a melancholic smile, giving you another squeeze, firm and encouraging. Like a true gentleman, he helped you sit upright, his other hand reaching over your head to brush aside some stray strands by your forehead. “Are you feeling okay?” 

Exhaustion, meanwhile, rattled you to the bone.

You were weak, your movements fragile, almost like you were a fawn in her first hours of life. You blinked rapidly while taking in the new environment, only to quickly recognize the gray and cream colors in your surroundings. Back at Toji’s apartment was where you found yourself, with the familiar spiced floral scents from the flickering candle nearby confirming that this was the master bedroom. 

Given the dull throb by your temples, you frowned.

“What—?” your voice came out as a hoarse rasp. “What happened?”

The trio traded looks at each other with communicative eyes.

In the end, Choso tucked his hands into his front pocket and took the initiative to speak. 

“You were in the Zenin residence with Mai and Maki, remember?” No, not really.“Got into an argument with your husband. Started having a panic attack. Collapsed. Puked.”

Oh…

Recollections from your last conscious moments flooded your head like a tsunami: the screaming, the crying, and the fighting. Loud, angry, bitter fighting. 

Fighting for your dignity. Fighting for your heart. Fighting for your life. Goodness gracious. As much as the memories sucked all life from you, you instead felt completely…numb. 

After all, you had already been dead on the inside. You were too worn out, both physically and emotionally, to react. Everything that you had to go through since your wedding had brought you to your wit’s end, and this recent altercation with Naoya Zenin was truly the icing on the cake. 

When you caught sight of yourself in a nearby mirror, you could hardly recognize yourself. Your expression, glum. Your lips, chafed, Your face, pallor. Absent of any other color than an ashen hue. 

“How…did I get here?”

“Mai and Maki got worried and called Toji, who told them to bring you here,” Sukuna answered this time. “You’re lucky the girls reacted fast, else we would have sent you to an emergency room. Suguru even stopped his shift at his clinic to watch over you.”

“I—,” you sighed, lost for words and dropping your tired gaze to the floor. Dealing with inner turmoil to this degree was more than what any sane person could handle. All efforts towards your happiness were in vain anyway, as the cosmos conspired to make your existence one neverending nightmare. Everyone else had their ambitions and shit to deal with, but here you were as an absolute nuisance to the people who should not be otherwise pestered, and you were ashamed for the unnecessary trouble that you had caused. “Gosh, this is embarrassing.”

“We are so sorry!” 

Unexpectedly, the apology came from a girl’s voice, and you had to turn around to see three familiar teenagers by the bedroom door. 

Just last week, you would never have imagined ever seeing Mai, Maki, and Megumi together. Yet, here you were, watching the twins and their—technically speaking—nephew (cute) standing side-by-side, twiddling their thumbs in their nervous corner (also cute). 

Flustered and prepared for admonishment, Mai bowed her head at a slight angle as she hurriedly explained, “We don’t…We don’t mean to put you in an awkward position. We just didn’t know what to do. Maki and I were worried when you fell to the floor and started throwing up. We…We should’ve asked for your permission on who to call for help. But we didn’t know who else to phone, so we ended up dialing Toji. Now, we’ve put you in a weird spot and that is all our fault—”

“Do not apologize. That was the right thing to do.” The comment came from yet another person, and when Sukuna and Choso stepped to the side, who you saw at the room’s furthest end was none other than Toji Fushiguro himself. 

He had taken a seat all the way by the wall, with one leg thrust over the other in a relaxed but kingly sort of manner. With his sleeves rolled up, his forearms bled to his wrists with ink, and the emeralds in his sharp gaze gleamed as he stared pointedly in your direction. 

Of everyone in the room, his countenance appeared the most composed, but you could feelhim reading through the emotions present on your face. He inclined forward, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his palm. 

When he noticed the slightest shift in your posture too, the tiny scar by his lips flexed along with a smile.

“So, you’ve figured me out, hm?”

Easily, you could sense all seven pairs of eyes in the room (the four therapists plus the three teens) landing on you. The sudden attention rendered you nervous. Even if you chose silence as your response, the entire room, the entire planet, and perhaps even the entire galaxy could speculate your answer through your expression alone.

After a long while, you breathed out, “You didn’t tell me that you were a Zenin.”

The elephant in the room had to be addressed obviously, and you were not shy to confront the situation head-on.

While you did not intend to sound accusatory, your tone came off as such anyway. How could you not, when you had essentially been misled for weeks? Sure, Toji probably did not want to be badmouthing the Zenins to the very person (you) who had been recently married into the family. But, by withholding the fact that he and your husband were cousins, Toji had created much unnecessary anguish including the current limbo that your marriage was in right now. 

Meanwhile, that same man pressed his nails into his chin in contemplation. 

“I am not a Zenin, though,” he eventually corrected in a domineering voice, all austere in his throne. “At least, not any longer. I took my first wife’s last name years ago. I go by Fushiguro now.” Curt, direct, and pithy. Toji wasted not a syllable. “Everything worked out though, I guess. Naobito cut me off from the Zenin clan earlier this year. Gave me ten billion yen and told me to get lost, so I did.”

Toji always kept his private matters to himself, but with everything that he had gone through, you were struck by his poise, as if being expelled from such an influential household had been a high-school breakup he had gotten over long ago. 

Nonetheless, you wondered if he missed that other life, and you brought your knees toward your chest.

“So,” how should you put this, “you’re not upset?”

Toji scoffed immediately.

“Upset?” A bitter grin spread off his lips. “Why would I be upset? That household is a trash dump. All my life, there were no choices for me to make when my uncles and granduncles decided everything already,” and he began counting with his fingers, “my teachers, my classes, my extracurriculars, my friends. Everything. I was only a puppet to bring honor to the family name, bring in money for the company.”

Listening to his sonorous voice, you rested your cheek onto a knee.

"I see."

His story was depressing, and from conversations with in-laws such as Mai and Maki, you knew that he was not lying, either. Coming from nobility as well, you were also aware of the pressures that came with the people who boasted their 'old-money' statuses, but the Zenin household had always been notorious for being miserable. 

Toji had said so before in a prior discussion, how ‘family isn’t family for something like the Zenins’ because both politics and business took precedence.

Then, he went on.

“Some people would kill to have my problems, but I did not want that life, you know? Around the time I started college, I decided that I wanted to make judgments for myself and be my own distinct entity, but that made people upset. Privileged. Entitled. Ungrateful. Whatever. My family members called me many things as a young adult when they figured I did not want to be their pawn for my whole life, with the only person who understood me for many years being my best friend in university.”

Megumi’s mom.

Toji nearly appeared to be an altogether different person whenever he spoke about his first wife. The chartreuse in his eyes would stir with both sorrow and fond reminiscence as he thought about the Mrs. Fushiguro you would never get to meet, his closest confidant whom he lost to the cruel separation brought by life versus death. She must have been someone whom he valued a lot—a person who completely transformed him—as Toji had discarded his last name (which was Zenin, of all things) for hers.

‘He truly loved my mom,’ Megumi explained before. 'He had given up everything.’

Thus, fate could truly be unfair.

The loss and pain Toji must have endured, a topic Megumi had alluded to in his discussion with you before.

Not to mention, the expectations, frustration, and suffocation that came from the clan's elders, too. Experiencing the intense atmosphere in the Zenin household firsthand allowed you to empathize with him. Given the stark differences between him and your lawful husband, there was no wonder Toji did not wish to deal with his older relatives' high-strung conventions.

But, if he had been suffering so much… 

“Why did you care so much for what your family thought?” you asked, disregarding the look that the three teenagers by the door exchanged with each other. “Toji, you went to university in the United States. You had a wife and son at a young age. You went from a business background to a licensed therapist, so why did you not—”

“Leaving is difficult when you’re the family heir and the corporation’s CEO.” 

The expression that you then returned was blank.

Huh?

His words triggered something in your head, so you repeated after him.

“Leaving is difficult when,” and your voice trailed off, “when…you…are the heir and CEO.”

Heir. CEO.

Zenin.

Toji.

Naoya.

But Toji’s older.

‘Naoya got into a huge dispute with him earlier this year.’

Sheer realization slapped you hard across your face. No way.

“Toji,” you began after letting the revelation sink into you a while later, but your voice barely eeked above a mumble, “so you were once the successor to the Zenin household and company?"

The man in question did not respond, but the silent affirmation from the six other onlookers was an answer in itself.

Yes.

In hindsight, you wanted to say you had always seen the possibility. Still, you never fully registered this until now: the thoughtfulness in his strategy, the sophistication in his speech, the charisma in his leadership. 

Previously, Toji had impressed you with how much he knew about the Zenin Corporation’s market share in the Asia-Pacific or the firm’s outsized influence on the international stage. Yet, most (including yourself) would not guess that someone like Toji Fushiguro—your tattooed and brawny sex therapist (plus single dad)—had once been heralded as the indisputable inheritor to the proud lineage and conglomerate. 

That had been your mistake. 

Toji was more than what people made him out to be, which reminded you to never assume anything superficially about someone—a remark he had once made. For good reason, because he had been referring to himself all along.

You could almost visualize Toji Fushiguro as the seasoned executive he had once been in light of this new information: his black strands slicked into a side part, his charcoal blazer freshly pressed, his leather oxfords newly polished. 

Maybe because he was more mature or maybe because he was simply older, but Toji appeared more fitting for the important roles in the Zenin household compared to the man presently poised for succession. 

Consequently, you must also ask, “Then, how did Naoya end up in your seat?”

Sukuna and Megumi shared a glance.

Choso grimaced, and Suguru kissed his teeth.

Meanwhile, Toji ran a lone finger down his jaw, following the lines from a tattoo. 

“Let me give you some context, sweetheart,” he offered, now brushing his chin as he spoke. “For the last—let’s say—few hundred years, the oldest male in each generation became the leader in the Zenin clan. Is the rule stupid? Yes. Should there be more criteria in evaluating a potential heir aside from birth order? Also yes. But nothing has stopped this before because the Zenins, as you know by now, are a family built on antiquity and tradition. So, when I was born as the oldest male in my generation and Naoya had come in second place...” 

Toji did not have to finish his sentence for you to figure out the rest.

Despite the demands that came along with being the next family head, Toji must have been esteemed as nothing short of a crown price among the Japanese elite, with seniors in the Zenin household utilizing all their resources to prepare the once young and starry-eyed boy for taking over such an influential role. Naturally, his enviable position would spark jealousy, even from those whom Toji deemed related to by birth.

Including his very own younger first cousin.

Toji frowned in exasperation.

“Your husband is one childish and jealous brat, but Naoya Zenin has been like that for as long as I have known him. To claim the heir and CEO titles, he acquired the trust from myself and my colleagues by working with us in sex therapy, only to stab us all in the back. He’s a liar. A total manipulator.” 

And, from personal experiences, you knew that those words could not be more true.

At this point, Toji sank his handsome face into his immense palm. 

“Well, now Naoya Zenin has everything he wants but is still an incompetent asshole. The whole enterprise is hanging by a thread. The entire clan cannot fucking stand him. What’s crazy is that his father Naobito is not doing anything about this, and I cannot tell if that is because the old man is giving his son free passes or because he has finally gotten senile. With Naoya's pettiness, though, the father-son duo have done everything to erase my name from the family, even going as far as to dismiss the executives that I brought onto the management team to undo my legacy.” 

When Toji glanced up to cast his gaze forward, you then suddenly understood that the three other men in the room were more than just his fellow board-licensed colleagues.

You recalled Toji’s words in the Teyvat meeting room.

‘I recruited these guys right when they completed their undergraduate degrees, around the time I just opened my therapy office,’ and the puzzle pieces clicked into place from the realization that sex therapy had not been the only thing that Toji had worked with them on—Sukuna, Choso, and Suguru had been executives at the Zenin Corporation reporting to Toji, too. ‘We’ve been working together since, for the past four years.’

Discerning these revelations from your expressions, Toji added in confirmation.

“I had selected these three to oversee the Zenin Corporation’s operations with me,” he said, and you remembered the same conversation in which the men discussed their University of Tokyo studies while Toji listed their previous roles. Sukuna, Economics. “Sukuna, Director of Investments and Real Estate.” Choso, Mechanical Engineering. “Choso, Chief Engineer and Supply Chain Manager.” Suguru, Biology. “Suguru, Healthcare and Innovation Administrator.”

Arguably the most consequential divisions in a conglomerate that spanned numerous sectors, with each department bringing in yen by the billions every year.

‘These guys have treated me like family more than my blood-related kin have.’

Learning this about the four therapists added to your fascination. 

For you, the discovery was like uncovering a hidden treasure trove. To imagine everything that the four—as one cohesive unit—had gone through together at the top of the corporate ladder: scrutiny from the media and stakeholders, impromptu meetings that demanded make-or-break decisions, and immediate responses to industry trends and regulations. 

Only for them to be cast aside by no one other than your husband.

In the end, this all made sense.

Now, you understood why the therapists were once incredibly demeaning and belligerent toward you. How could they possibly sympathize with the woman married to the man who had taken virtually everything from them? 

Heck, if you were in their shoes and had no further context, you would hate yourself, too.

Only now were you hearing their perspectives, and you were grateful that—compared to several weeks before—they trusted you enough to open up. 

At last, all you could do was sigh and mutter, “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

Sukuna shot back without hesitation, which stunned you given how he had been the one who mocked you the most. Yet, a scintilla of kindness flared in his fiery eyes, so you continued with your tone softer and quieter.

“I feel terrible.” Such vulnerability in front of so many people at once went beyond your comfort zone. “For the unfairness Naoya had brought upon you all, and how I…I can’t change anything. I can’t do anything. All I am is…useless.”

“No, you are powerful,” Suguru interjected this time. “Your husband relies on your public image to keep scrutiny off him. He needs you. He’s been demoralizing you for months because he knows the ball will always be in your court, and never his.”

His words made you stop.

“You truly think so?” you asked.

“Yes.” 

Choso, who replied, seemed honest. 

He was honest. 

He might throw you off from how aloof and stoic his attractive face would appear, but Choso was not a liar.

Bringing your feet off the bed, you slowly swung your feet. 

“I…am surprised you all even want to talk to me.” 

Toji tugged at his dress shirt’s collar and flashed his ink-covered muscles underneath. “What makes you think that?” 

His pointed question made you realize how much Naoya had been fucking with your mind, blaming and villainizing you at every chance, thus devolving you into a spineless worm feeling remorse for every little thing.

Shrugging, you tossed your gaze to the side. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “You could have avenged yourself by now. I am Naoya’s wife and Naobito’s daughter-in-law. There had been a thousand chances for you to do something horrible to me: to hurt me, blackmail me, spread dirty rumors about me, but…you haven’t.”  

“Why would I do that?” Toji replied instantly and candidly. Rather than appearing offended by your judgments, he started giving you that look again whenever he had his therapist hat on—the one where he would tilt his head at a slight angle to gauge the sentiments painted across your face. “I could have chosen to be bitter and vengeful for the rest of my life, but I am grateful for what I have. Why let a toxic bunch impact my life? I already told you how that household is an absolute fucking hell. I'm glad I have found an out. At the very least, my son would not have to deal with the crap from my young adult years because you know who is the oldest male in the generation after mine?”

Megumi. 

All gazes now fell upon the younger Fushiguro, who tried to casually shrug the attention off. 

Who cares if I was second-in-line to leading perhaps the most prestigious family in Japan? his nonchalance wanted to convey, but his ears turned pink anyway.  

Toji continued, “Then, of course, there are some people whom I care about a lot.” Using his head, he gestured to the twins. “These girls are the best aunts to my son that I, as a father, could ever ask for. They’re only one year older than Megumi, but Mai and Maki used to go on playdates with him on the weekends, walk him to school every morning, and cook him breakfasts over the holidays. The twins even helped my son take his first steps. There is this one photo we have in the library—I don’t know if you have gotten a chance before to see it. But there’s Mai and Maki, each holding one of Megumi’s little hands back in his chubby toddler days and—” 

“Dad!” a very flustered and irritated teenage boy finally had to say. “This is not the time to talk about that picture!” 

Next to him, a proud Mai and Maki coo and tease their grouchy nephew, poking at his puffed-up cheeks and ruffling his uncombed hair. 

“Aw, is someone a little embarrassed?”

Smiling at the little banter from the trio, Toji did not let them distract him from his conversation with you. “What I’m trying to get at is…life’s too short not to enjoy the happy sides of it,” but his eyes glazed with rue nevertheless, “Now is the perfect time to focus on your well-being. Take a look around this room. A lot of people want to see you leading a fulfilling life, Y/N. A fulfilling life for yourself, not for anyone else. Not for me, not for anyone in this room, and certainly not for your husband. Nothing—and I mean absolutely nothing—should hold you back from pursuing your health and happiness.” 

While you assumed that your best times were over, Toji reminded you those good days can be brought back with the right attitude. He had a point. Why should you allow your marriage to hinder you from connecting with people whom you care about, working towards the passions that brought you purpose, and feeling the love that you deserve? 

Instead, you should seek every sunrise and sunset as an opportunity to live better and without regrets.

As you ruminated on this different mindset, a sudden knock from the door cut your thoughts short.

Who…

Like you, most others looked around blankly, but Toji ordered from his seat, “Let him in.”

Mai, who stood closest to the entryway, obeyed. 

Once she unlocked the door, the room fell silent save for the footsteps of the man walking in, his soles creating soft echoes on the linoleum floor. Overhead, pale lights revealed the lines etched on his exhausted face, the worry that sat heavily on his chest. 

“Mister Daisuke,” someone eventually acknowledged out of respect.

Your father did not hear the greeting as he searched the room, his sullen gaze darting from face to face until he found you. His shoulders fell from his overwhelming relief. Still in a suit after a long workday, he stumbled forward feebly. 

“You’re alright,” he whispered between steps, scarcely audible. 

He crouched toward the floor once he approached you, and when Suguru transferred your hands into your father’s, you noticed the unstoppable quiver from the latter even as you gripped him tightly in an attempt to stop the tremor. 

His skin was tough, weathered by his additional decades in life. But, in his palms, you found the familiar tenderness that had comforted you since you were a little girl and, in his gaze, you noticed the sadness only found in the despair of a heartbroken parent.

“Thank goodness, you are okay,” and before everyone, tears slipped past his eyes, “I was terrified. I was so scared. When Toji called to tell me you had thrown up and collapsed, do you know how afraid I was?” 

You glanced over at the said therapist, reminding yourself that—if Toji had been the CEO before Naoya—he must have worked very closely with your COO father up until recently. For your father to know exactly where you were and walk in with this expression suggested that the former colleagues had had a lengthy conversation about your circumstances. A part of you wanted to be angry. Why drag your father into this worry? But a larger part of you had always wanted to reveal to him the wretched months that had gone by and longed for his support. 

And now, he was here.

The older man took a shuddering breath and brought his fingers to your cheek, holding and cradling you like he would never get to do this again. 

“I can’t lose you,” he lamented. “I have lost enough in my life already. I cannot lose you, too. I just can’t. Why have you not told me the truth? If you were not happy with Naoya, why have you not told me sooner? Did you think I would place my loyalty to the company over my own child? I feel so guilty and broken to hear about what you have been going through.”

Frankly, you felt just as broken, too. 

In fact, seeing and hearing your father weep like this shattered you. As devoted as your father was, his front never failed to be unwavering and strong. Even when your mother’s death left a significant hole in his heart, he bit back his grief. Scars from your mother’s untimely death scarred his heart, wounds that never healed and would stay with him until his last breath, but he rarely expressed his suppressed sorrow. 

All for your sake. Because you were his one and only daughter, his one and only child. 

So now, for him to see you in such a sorry state was crushing his whole world that had become you.

“Dad.” You helped him wipe his tears away, just like how he had always done for you. “I didn’t want to make you disappointed. I didn’t want to make you sad. I…I just wanted to protect you.”

“No,” he responded firmly. How could a loving father accept the possibility that his daughter would even think about placing him before herself? “Protect yourself first.”

You looked up when you sensed two more approaching individuals and found Mai and Maki with doleful smiles.

“We still have something to return to you, Y/N.”

In your left palm, each girl pressed one ring—the first which promised a future forever and the second which symbolized an infinite unity. 

You stared at the jewelry as your chest remembered the waves of happiness, excitement, hope, confusion, betrayal, and pain. 

So, so much pain.

Your father, who would not miss the solemn undertones in your gaze, squeezed your hands in his. 

“My dear daughter,” he started, and you could tell he could no longer bear to see you suffer any longer, “what are you planning to do?”

Your throat turned dry.

Any possibility seemed like a viable solution, a means for a desperate escape. 

For months, you should have prepared yourself for this very question, but now that you were confronted with this reality for the first time, you did not know what to say. 

You had clutched onto the false hope for your troubled marriage to be sorted out. Escaping your dreary matrimony had once been too far-fetched of an option given an impending cold war between your families, which you would never wish upon the stars to happen. Therefore, even as you found yourself stuck on a stifling dead end, you did not exactly prepare for the next steps for the occasion you found Naoya Zenin’s mistreatment too much to bear.

However, times have changed.

Your allies and enemies have changed.

Most of all, you have changed.

Therefore, with all the universe’s possibilities at your fingertips, one particular option stuck out. 

“I’m going to file for a divorce.”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: So many things. To see us freak out at the idea of a divorce during the beginning of the fic, up to now, where we suggested the option out of our volution. Also, the much-needed heart-to-heart conversation between Toji and us, and how that really shows a slow maturation in our relationship with him (and everyone else)! Let me know what you think, and see you next chapter!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[bearlytolerant]

15 Lines of Dialogue Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Tagged by @thevikingwoman thank you!

These are from a wip and it’s Gwyn from dragons dogma 2. Putting below the cut for length.

1. “A senseless request when you are all that consumes my thoughts now.”

2. Ah, another pretty boy in distress. Shall I throw you over my shoulder then?”

3. “You can leave, if you wish. Know I would miss you dearly, if you choose that path, but my joy is brightest when you are defying what destiny has ordained for you.” She reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind his ear. “And you shine brightest when your actions are of your own volition.”

4. “Raise your hand against her again and I’ll wear your fingers as charms on a chain around my neck.”

5. “Now if I told you that, it would no longer be a well kept secret now, would it?”

6. “Do you three gossip about me as well while I am away?”

7. “Have you lost your senses?” She reels on him in the dark recesses of the dim lit halls, a draft sending a chill down her spine and raising the hairs on her neck. “Times such as these require playing the part of the feckless dullard. Either play the part with me or wait here.”

8. “No, it does not bother me that he takes Disa to his bed. In another world perhaps—“ She laughs. “I have always enjoyed a bit of sugar with my cream.”

9. “If this is my destiny,” she spits, fists balled in seething anger. “If this is only what I was made for in this world, then perhaps I should unmake this world.”

10. She hovers in the doorway, eyes fixated on the bandit leader. “You can milk him all day but I believe this billy goat is better repurposed for slaughter.”

11. “Fear grips my heart nearly every waking hour, but when we are yoked together, I know only courage.”

12. “Senseless from the moment I met you.” She tsks. “You are a fool to think my heart does not ache for you. Not just your touch but those words whispered and carried off by the winds during our midnight trysts.” She takes another brave step toward him. “I miss you and long for you. I did the night we met and even more so now.”

13. “Have you seen the view from here? How unfortunate to have been made arisen. I should have liked to have been made with wings.”

14. “I hear the brine calling and it sounds like it’s begging for supper,” she says and delivers an arrow to its eye.

15. “His objective is dubious at best but I admire him. Though I believe his thorough research methods could be used for better means, his spirit is unwavering in resolve.” She offers a wry grin. “And I’m not just saying that because he carries the same resolve in the bedroom.”

Tagging @ellstersmash @fangbangerghoul @lisa-and-shadow @myreia @staticpallour @a-cosmic-elf @roguelioness and anyone else who sees this and would like to do this for their oc (and no obligations of course)!

[ywpd-translations]

(Heads up, Yowapeda is going on a bit of a hiatus for the next three weeks! So there will be no new chapter until 8/3!)

Ride 737: New pedals

Pag 1

3: New... “pedals”

4: Yeah

Pag 2

1: Try using them

You'll probably be able to use them!!

Pag 3

2: Huh

3: …..!! Be able to use them!?

4: The.... pedals!?

5: Rokudai-kun

Ye-yessir, teh

The senpai of my senpai, the “super senpai”!!

6: Sorry but could you please bring here Onoda's bike?

Pag 4

1: Yessir!! Right away!!

3: So fast

3: Here!!

Thank you

Thanks

He's really so fast!! As expected of his hardcore manager spirit!!

Pag 5

1: Waaaa.... I officially touched Back-ga-.... Onoda-san's bike....!!

Why are you being all bashful by yourself now, Rokudai....

2: I'll install them right away

3: Ah-uhm

4: Uhm.... actually

I can't accept them

7: Teh!?

Onoda-san refused them..!!

Pag 6

1: You purposely cam here to encourage us, you even offered me a drink – I can't accept the “pedals” too, in addition to that!!

2: You even greeted the first years

That's plenty, thank you so much!

Onoda-san....

4: Is that so?

Yes!!

5: I thought they would suit you, Onoda, but..

Pag 7

1: I- I wanted to see the new pedals, teh...

He said “he'll be able to use them”, I wonder what that meant

2: Maybe the shape is different?

Maybe they're difficult to use? Like there are two on both sides

How would you even step on them, teh

3: I actually got these for myself....

4: With my style of pedaling I tend to lose torque near the limit, so I tried using these

5: But it didn't suit me

So I went back to use the old pedals

7: And while doing so I suddenly thought

8: That you, Onoda... your pedals

Pag 8

1: How long has it been since you last changed them...?

2: Huh

6: The pedals used for bicycles racing are consumable

Pag 9

1: When you fall, they're the first thing that hit the ground, and they're shaved by the impact

2: The structure is simple but surprisingly useful, but still metal isn't perfect

3: They receive the torque and the force from the legs, so you can say the pedals are one of the most important part of a bike

And there's no guarantee they'll never break right during an important race

4: A race...!!

5: Of course you usually bring your bike to Touji-san, and I don't think he'd fail to notice something like this

6: But, has it ever happened before that your feet unfastened during an important moment and you had troubles because of it?

Pag 10

2: …. during the Inter High's third day... at the end...

Yes, it happened....

3: You fought in the Inter High twice

4: You ran in the prefectural qualifiers, every day you use your bike for practice

5: And you're overusing it now during training camp

6: When they'll break it won't be surprising

Onoda, sometimes.... caring... isn't just about the club members....

Pag 11

1: It's about your own bike, too!!

2: The pedals I received from Teshima-san on that rainy day during training camp onmy first year

3: I asked Touji-san to fix them on my new bike, since they were important to me

5: Looking closely, they're all ruined

Pag 12

1: The bike that connects me to everyone

And what connects me to this bike

2: The pedals

3: You went to the Inter High with the pedals I gave you, and you delievered our jersey to the final gate in the end

4: Twice

And I, who gave you those pedals, also am happy and want to thank you

5: But, it's enough

They carried out their role perfectly

Pag 13

1: Let them rest

3: Waaa it's already this late!? That's bad, I got a lecture tomorrow next period

4: I have to go back!

Th- that's bad!

5: …. ah, but you refused these new pedals. I can't give them to you... you said

Ah- wa-

Ahh, what should I do

Ah-

6: Well it can't be helped

Pag 14

1: I'll forget them in the lobby and leave

4: Do your best during this training camp!

Yes- thank you so much for coming here!!

5: Say hi to the others for me, too

6: Share those with everyone and eat them

Pag 15

1: Thank you so much...!!

If you speak so loudly you'll wake everyone...

He....

He's such a nice senpai...

2: I could see ans feel the Sohoku bond, teh!!

Righ!! It's so strong!!

3: I'll change them now

4: The pedals!!

6: I wonder what kind are they, teh, these new pedals!

He said “you'll be able to use them”!?

7: Huh!?

These are the pedals!?

It's the first time I see them in this shape, the... the tip...

Pag 16

1: is round!!

Pag 17

1: The part where I put my feet is a round pedal...!!

2: Amazing, since this pedal is round

3: I can move my heel left and right

4: With incredibly wide movements!!

5: My ankles... and my knees are incredibly free to move!!

And also, these pedals...

Pag 18

1: They feel so close to the sole of my feet

2: I feel like I can turn my pedals so much more like this!!

3: Thank you so much, Teshima-san!!

Pag 19

1: Have you noticed, Hotshot?

Onoda-kun's....

Yeah, his pedals are new

2: “Speed play”

3: It's the only kind of pedal in the world that has the cleat and fastening mechanism on the side

4: Your legs' range of motion left and right becomes wider, so when you're swinging the bike you can still under all circumstances pedal at an high cadence and apply torque

It's perfect for Onoda's pedaling style

5: Was it Touj-san?

Who knows... I sense some kind of intention behind the guess of giving him those pedals

6: And from those donuts lineup choice, maybe

Pag 20

1: It was Teshima-san!!

2: Onoda....!! Pedal, until your limit

3: I told you before...!! I want to see

4: How strong you can become!!

[eusuntgratie]

Writer asks 4, 6, 7, 13, 14, 29, 34 🤩

4 & 6 answered here

7. What's the story or fic that you're most excited to work on or share next year?

hands down a million percent its my messy rwrb rpf fic. i'm gonna give this one a working title since i've started posting about it - we'll call it disaster for now. this tasty little idea grew legs and carried me away, and now i've got 20 fucking chapters plotted. WHO AM I. i've only got about 3k written, but i've done a lot of prep work, so i'm hoping to start posting this one in january or february but it really depends how much time i have to write. i won't finish it before i start posting but i want to have a LOT of it done, and i'm a long ways off from that. if anybody is into this pairing or actor rpf in general feel free to come scream at me about it this fic consumes at least 50% of my waking thoughts.

13. What story haunts you when you try to sleep at night?

i'm not sure how to interpret this question. the fic i can't stop thinking about, brainstorming, visualizing scenes is disaster. every commute, when i'm trying to go to sleep, etc etc... i'm thinking about this fic and coming up with a new little thing i want to throw in there.

the fic that haunts me because i never wrote it is the buddie fic i was planning to write for the buddie big bang in 2022, shadow, but we ended up moving halfway across the country instead, and i never came back to it. it's plotted, i love the central idea, but i'm not sure i have the motivation to write something that long for buddie, at least not right now. but never say never. there's some snippets and teasers and even some incredible art in my #shadow tag.

14. How many wips are you taking into next year?

2 that i am currently actively working on (disaster and firstprince exes). i've got 2 tknp fics that i've worked on recently that i think/hope i'll finish. we'll leave it at that for now 😬

29. What was the funniest comment or piece of feedback that you received?

hmm i did love this one: OH YOU'RE SICK from @bigassbowlingballhead and you yelling at me for NOT running into a hot hockey player in an airport and hooking up in an airport bathroom despite the promises made by be cool. all the feral screeching about didn't think i liked cowboys was pretty fun too 🤣

i DO have an all time favorite comment although i think its from last year but i can't find it right now. it's someone trying to scream JESUS CHRIST at me but just its a mess of keysmashes and half words it's so great 🥰

34. What's the weirdest thing you researched for a fic?

probably all the obscure saints i researched for forgive me, father. all the oc's have saint's names bc i went HARD on the catholic trauma in this one :)

Fanfic Writer End of the Year Ask Game

[venturismcdonald]

Derek Venturi has ADHD, a fact we've all acknowledged. (Casey might too but that's for another day, said as an ADHD high achieving, type a girlie myself.) And in my making of a Derek Venturi Pinterest board and refining of the Spotify playlist, I have come to several conclusions about his hyperfixations, so here they are, organized by age.

Age 3: Hockey. Hockey sticks around forever, but when he's three is when Derek becomes permanently obsessed. It is, by far, the coolest sport ever. Nothing about hockey is lame. Unlike his parents, who do not properly appreciate hockey or Derek's genius to make a hockey rink out of the living room.

Age 5: Space. It's this vast, neverending thing and there's all these stars and constellations and it just clicks. Derek learns how to read because he wants to know about space. Planets and how they work and stars and their meanings consume his every waking thought for months.

Age 6: Greek gods/mythology. Look, alright, he's not a religious dude. It's weird. Not Derek's style. But gods are so cool and dysfunctional and everything that a good story should have! There are affairs! There's incest for some reason (gross!)! There's curses and everything that he loves! They have stories of stars and it's awesome.

Age 7: Norse gods. These are cooler than Greek gods (no offense to Zeus), because Thor is literally in Derek's comic books. Comics are obviously cooler than whatever the gods are. Not to mention, they have similar star amounts.

Age 8: Superheroes. Abby and George can't stop fighting and Edwin keeps crying and Derek hates everything, so he retreats to the world of his comics with Ed by his side. The comics are great! They're easy, stop tears from happening (which, by the way, is the only thing he cares about), and not to mention, fricking awesome. Superheroes are objectively the coolest. His favorite is, obviously, Batman. The dude has everything.

Age 10: Smarti. Look, alright, there's a baby and a dissolving family and the baby's the thing being used to try and cobble it back together? Fuck that! Derek loves his Smarti more than anything and he will not let her be a pawn in the dysfunction of the Venturi household, which leads him to essentially parent her when the parents are fighting. Someone pay him for his labor, he's literally begging.

Age 11: Girls. Derek is not a romantic, by any means, but he likes the attraction and kissing (and more than kissing, but that's after he's hit at least 14) and the game of dating. It's great. There's always girls lining up to be with him. He's never bored.

Age 12: Subculture history. How the fuck Derek Venturi ends up at a punk show is something even he doesn't know. But it's cool and he starts becoming obsessed with the bands and the history until his room is covered in posters and he's got CDs of them everywhere. He is, obviously, not a punk though, because Derek's cool. If anything, he's more grunge.

Age 13: Film. Being a director seems to bring all of Derek's best traits to the foreground, but if he's going to be successful, he needs to watch movies. So he spends every weekend watching movies with the boys before going to a party. At his core, he's pretty sure he turned into a film obsessed nerd for a year of his life. Thank god he's still Derek, god of everything.

Age 14: Music. He learns to play guitar for a girl, but decides to keep up at it because it's fun. Music is cool, it's a good way to vent his frustrations with everything. Did he mention that it gets girls?

Age 15: Casey. The alien specimen moved in and didn't only take over his house, she took over his brain! What a bratty princess. Was it not enough to have to share a room and legally bonded parents with her? It's so unfair. This hyperfixation sticks around forever, but it's also originally a hyperfixation.

Age 16: Pluto. When asked about the fateful weekend where Derek had his Casey induced breakdown (now he has feelings for her, which is so inconvenient, and why are they so strong?! He doesn't want that, he likes easy. Casey is not easy), he will say it was because Pluto wasn't a planet anymore, which is valid because it played a role too. The worst weekend of his life, by far, was that one. Because of Pluto, not Casey!

Age 16: Anti Football Propaganda. Derek's never liked football, but when he's 16, that hatred consumes him for several months. It dies when Casey and Max's relationship does. There's no correlation. Obviously. He just hates football!

Age 17: Love. For the first time in his life, Derek's in a (gag) serious relationship. And he's in love with Sally. Love is weird, though, because it feels like his brain normally does, just with more emotions he's acknowledging. Love is a hyperfixation, is it not? The devotion of keeping oneself in love with someone, putting them first, it's that. Obviously.

[ailendolin]

Thanks for tagging me @viola-halogen!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

199 at the moment. Which is a little insane.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,054,233

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment, I mainly write for BBC Ghosts, Yonderland and Bill (2015) and Horrible Histories. I have posted a few Loki fics recently as well because the new season came out and inspired me but it's back to Ghosts now.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. When Sorrow Sang (6,806 kudos - The Witcher)

2. Helpless (2,215 kudos - Thor Movies)

3. For The Best (2,190 - Stranger Things)

4. Here With Me (1,952 - Thor Movies)

5. A Moment (858 - Loki Series)

All those fics were written for large fandoms so it's no surprise they gained more attention than, say, my Six Idiots fics)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Absolutely! Fandom thrives on interaction and the reason I post my fics online is because I want to talk about my favourite characters with other people! That's how I have found my closest fandom friends :)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Mhm, I think my Capvers fic Missed Chances probably fits that bill. Also Attentions (Kendall/Ellis of Woolworth), my 1917 fic God is not here and my Hornblower fic Cast aside.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Since most of my stories end on a happy note, it's hard to pick just one out of the 199. I think I'll go with my Thomas-centric fic The Storyteller because it focuses on Thomas finding his place in his family through storytelling and ends on a very heartwarming note. The same goes for Renovations.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't so far, thank the gods. I honestly don't get why people would comment hateful things on something other people share for free. If you don't like something, just close the tab and move on. It's as simple as that.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No and I never will. I have alluded to it in some stories if it was necessary for the plot (like in Compromise which was all about Thomas and Julian needing different things from their relationship) but I have no intention of ever writing it in detail because it's just not my cup of tea.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I do - very rarely because I like to stay true to canon as much as possible. Crossovers or alternate universes often don't work for me because too much gets changed and the characters often become unrecognisable in the process. But I am very fond of my Button House Museum AU which is essentially a crossover between Ghosts and Night At The Museum where Button House is an old museum that comes to life every night thanks to ancient Stone Circle magic.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

12. Does not exist apparently

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Have I? I don't think so. I have collaborated with an artist before for an event but that's it, I think.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

I don't have one all-time favourite ship because I don't move on from fandoms. Once I love something, I love it with my whole heart. There might come a point where it stops consuming my every waking thought but it will always stay with me. Some of my oldest ships are Janeway/Chakotay from Star Trek Voyager, Sam Carter/Jack O'Neill from Stargate SG1 and Mulder/Scully from the X-Files.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have had a third installment for my The Pacific series Moments of a Different Past planned years ago. A part of it is already written and I know exactly where I want the story to go but I'll probably never finish it which makes me a bit sad.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oh this is difficult. I'd say conveying emotions and writing fics that feel like a warm hug? At least that's what people tell me they like about my stories - that they almost always end on a warm note and make them smile.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue, probably. Getting the voices right. English is my second language so dialects etc. often go straight over my head. Writing in a second language can be quite frustrating in general because you're aware your knowledge is limited and you keep catching yourself using the same phrases over and over again but don't really have the skills to shake it up a little.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I'm honestly not a fan of it. I think the odd word or phrase here or there is fine but as a reader, I find it very tedious to have to go to the end of a fic/chapter for the translation all the time so it's something I personally try to avoid (both when reading and writing).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I honestly don't remember. Perhaps Digimon? Or Yu-Gi-Oh? Though tbf I've daydreamed fics even before I knew what fanfiction were or even thought about writing them down, so if we were to go that far back, it would probably be Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Oh, that's so hard to say because I pour my heart and soul into every fic I write. That being said, I am very fond of the multi-chaptered fics I've written, so Grace and This place (I never thought would feel like home) are definitely among my favourite BBC Ghosts fic. The Sound of Voices Two and The Rivers Between Us for The Pacific are two fics I also love to go back to and re-read. Sometimes, it's not a specific fic but rather the universe that connects them that I have created. My Yonderland fics fall into that category and it's always a joy to return to it.

Tagging: @magicaltear @ginevralinton and @i-am-a-world but as always no pressure💙

[sagau-my-beloved]

been inhaling consuming a normal amount of sagau and corrupted!venti content and I have a couple thoughts I wanna yell about and maybe get a second opinion on them, and I know you like brainrot asks. Are you alright with me sending these or do you want me to wait until you have a bit less on your plate? (I have them written down so I can’t forget)

-🫧

I do like brainrot posts this is true

I'm afraid if you choose to wait you'd have to do so for quite a long time tho—

It's so funny cause the days I'm not active it's like a desert, like no asks and very little interaction, and then I post one coherent thing—

Between when I posted the protective reader expansion last at at around 10 pm, to when I wrote this at 11am, so about 13-14 hours, 8 of which I was asleep for, I've gotten 13 separate asks not including this one

That's like 1 for every hour

It's like y'all collectively see me post even a scrap of something and immediately go 😃😃

I— I have 171 things in my inbox and 12 things in my drafts, I closed my ask box for requests at 60

I will say generally the best time to actually send something in to better secure you'll get a response and not get buried is around 2am-9am CST cause that's when I'm sleeping and I always check my notes as soon as I wake up

I've got afternoon classes so I usually have a few hours in the morning that I can spend at least starting on response in order to move things to my drafts, which makes them way more likely to get finished and posted, so a general psa there

But yeah maybe just go ahead, things aren't clearing up anytime soon, maybe when the semester ends but you'd have to wait about a month for that, and even then it's not guaranteed

[the--morning--room]

RESURGAM (Arthur Harrow x F!Reader) Chapter 5: My little friend

"It had formerly been my endeavor to study all sides of his character: to take the bad with the good; and from the just weighing both, to form an equitable judgement. Now I saw no bad." -Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

WARNINGS: Mild sexual content, Blood

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

AO3

If one good thing can be said about the Thorn's time as one of the Followers of Ammit, it's that her physical health improved greatly and rapidly. Thanks to the fresh, home-grown produce, the yoga and pickup soccer games, and exposure to more fresh air than she'd seen in the past twenty years of her life combined, it was only a matter of months until she hardly recognized her own reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were brighter, the bags beneath them having all but vanished. She looked—and felt—alive.

Of course, while a healthy lifestyle is indeed beneficial to the human body, much of the Thorn's external transformation must really be owed to the superficial "glow" of infatuation. Reader, she was deeply, deeply in love. For reasons I will never understand, Arthur Harrow had come to be the center of her personal universe. She thought of him every moment, saw his face each time she closed her eyes. She imagined that the soft, gentle touches he often bestowed on her contained some kind of life-sustaining elixir; one touch would keep her going until the next one, and if she found herself devoid of Harrow's touches for too long, well…

The first morning she woke to find him gone from the community ("Well, it's not like he can spend all his time here, love. He's got communities like this all over the world to take care of," said the sweet woman serving her breakfast), she found herself so consumed with shock and anxiety that her head swam and she was forced to lie down. Never before had she so fully understood the concept of missing someone. It wasn't just Harrow that was far away, it was the greater part of her own self. This happened each time he traveled abroad: The Thorn would feign sickness, race to her room and succumb to an onslaught of tears that left her head throbbing and her body listless and hollow. The following days were spend in a melancholic fog until the return of the man she had unwittingly made into her personal god.

She knew she was really in trouble when her old nightmares of the deformed Randall Spector were gradually replaced by blissful dreams of being wrapped in Harrow's arms, his lips consecrating her neck and breasts, his strong hands exploring her waistline before dipping beneath the brim of her pants. She would often wake with a moan to find her hand between her legs and a sweet moistness decorating her fingers, her body celebrating with the warm, ecstatic tiredness of an orgasm she couldn't remember.

And that's not even the worst of it, reader: One winter night, as she was passing a donation bin wherein the community had been encouraged to deposit clothes for the homeless, she noticed the sleeve of one of Harrow's shirts resting over the corner. Scanning the vicinity—coast clear—she picked it up, buried her face in its fabric and inhaled. His scent still lingered; it was the smell of old books and parchment, of shadowy hallways and antiques and a subtle overtone of refined masculinity, all heightened by a conspicuous absence of any cologne or other artificial scents that might undermine the general clean, natural freshness of him. (That's what he smelled like to her, reader. Personally, I don't buy it. To me, he just smells like any other human, but, you know, who cares what Khonshu thinks? Whatever.)

Checking once more that she was completely alone, the Thorn slipped Harrow's shirt into her bag and carried it to her bedroom, where she guiltily stashed it under her pillow. On the occasions when her childhood nightmares returned to torment her and she woke with cries of fear and not ecstacy, she had only to pull the shirt from under her pillow and hold it to her face, and her heart would slow to normal as the sacred smell of the man she loved quieted her fears and soothed her back to sleep.

Do not let the still-fresh tattoo of the scales on her arm fool you, reader: The Thorn was never a worshippper of Ammit, despite the lie she so expertly performed while in Harrow's cult. The "deity" her heart chose to serve was, ironically, one of the most human of all human men who ever walked on Earth.

It had been nearly six months since the Thorn had come to stay with the community (and vowed never to fall for Harrow's manipulations). When she wasn't working on her dissertation, she was often summoned to assist Harrow in his efforts to find the location of the imprisoned Ammit. As the Thorn's scales had supposedly predicted, her presence proved invaluable to Harrow and his twisted mission. Her status as a doctoral student gained her access to research materials that would otherwise have been supremely difficult, if not downright impossible for Harrow and his other followers to acquire without committing some very noticeable crimes. Besides this, I must give credit where it's due: She was both knowledgeable and intelligent—not in an extraordinary way, but respectably so. Harrow frequently sought her counsel in regard to his mission, and it was on one of these occasions, sometime in January that—pardon the human slang, reader—shit started to go down.

Harrow greeted her at his study with a warm "come in" and a swift kiss on the cheek, and led her over to his desk. The manic brightness in his eyes and the jerkiness of his movements betrayed the excitement he was clearly fighting to contain: He had made a breakthrough.

"This text," he began, planting a finger on a photo in one of his books. "This is the one."

Her heart gave a single loud, fervent THMM like the beat of a battle drum. "It'll tell us the location of the tomb?"

"Yes," said Harrow. "According to this, it's being held at the Library of London."

"It's here? In the city?"

"Heaven is on our side, my sweet lamb." He cupped her face with both hands, a "signature move" of his that never failed to leave the Thorn weak in the knees. "Come with me," he told her, "and we will begin our holy pilgrimage together."

"Ugh, I hate the way he talks. Who does he think he is? No—the more pressing question is, how did I make it through the ten years in which he was my avatar without grabbing him by the throat and squeezing the life out of his pretentious little body?

Ahem. Anyway…

To the Thorn's utter elation, Harrow didn't invite anyone else to come along with them to the Library of London. They set out at the break of dawn, during the hour when the streets of London were shadowed in shades of turquoise and a pale halo struggled to crawl over the skyline. There was snow on the ground, for which the Thorn was grateful as the crunch of it partially camouflaged the sound of clattering glass inside Harrow's brown boots.

The Library of London, as the reader may or may not already be aware, isn't a typical library. It is partially a museum dedicated to "precious" and "historically significant" samples of human writing and art which, to my godly eyes, appear more or less equal to every other piece of human creation in terms of mediocrity. The text which Harrow and the Thorn sought was, luckily for them, not one of the artifacts featured in the museum. It was a fairly obscure document dating from the Late Period, just after the death of Alexander the Annoying, written in black ink on papyrus paper. Unbeknownst to the curators of the Library, this unassuming little sheet of papyrus, tucked away in the darkest shadows of the archives, was one of the most dangerous documents ever written.

The lobby was enshrined in white scholarly marble and hard, shining floors, and that uniquely "museum-y" kind of silence that the Thorn found equally enthralling and unnerving, disturbed only by the rhythmic bnk of Harrow's cane. The front desk abandoned, their only company was an endearingly unkempt young man whose nervously bouncing knees threatened to upset the thin portfolio he held on his lap.

The Thorn's gaze attached itself to the man, and wouldn't budge. She knew those fidgety hands, those dark curls, the adventurous face with its friendly, lopsided mouth and long eyelashes. Gods knew the last thing she needed right then was an awkward encounter, but alas…

"Marc?!"

The achingly familiar brown eyes turned to her. They blinked. "M…arc?"

"Marc? It's me," and she said her name, "don't you remember? We were neighbors in Chicago."

"S-sorry, I think you've got the wrong bloke," he quavered. "The name's Steven, actually—I'm here for my interview?" He waved his portfolio as if offering proof of his interviewee status. "I've never been to Chicago, actually, but I hear it's lovely. Lot's of trains, and…baseball, I think—oh, and that bean! Wait, is the bean in Chicago or New York? Oh, bullocks, my mind's all over the place today, must be the nerves…"

"Never mind," the Thorn interrupted. "I'm so sorry, I wouldn't have said anything if—I mean, you look just like someone I used to know. But he's not British, so it can't be—never mind."

"Oh," said Steven Grant, with genuine regret. "Sorry, love. Well, I hope you find him."

"Thanks," she said. "Good luck with your interview."

Behind her, Harrow said her name quite loudly. "Do you know this man?" he asked, an unmistakable tension lacing his voice. He was looking at Steven with something close to hatred.

"No," she replied hastily, turning away, just wanting the whole embarrassing episode to be over. "I thought so, but…no."

Mercifully, it was at that moment when Steven was called to his interview, which would actually turn out to be a less stressful ordeal than the one he'd just escaped. (No, reader, of course he didn't get the job—what an idiotic question to ask.)

Harrow put a hand under the Thorn's chin, tilting it up to face him. "What did he say to you?" he demanded in a soft growl.

Her heart quickened its pace. "N-not really anything, just that he wasn't who I thought he was, and that he's here for an interview."

"If that's true, then why are you crying?"

She lifted a tentative finger to her cheek, and it came away glistening with salty wetness. "I…don't know." She laughed nervously, blinked, and more tears fell. "I really don't."

Harrow's eyes were deep with distress. His mouth quivered ever so slightly. He took her hand, kissed it, and held it against his heart. "Promise me," he said, "promise that you will always come to me when you're in pain."

She was seized by a bizarre impulse to laugh, which she firmly resisted. If he only knew that she had already made a million such promises in her heart, that everything she was and ever would be was promised to him, as far as she was concerned.

"Of course," was what she said out loud.

At this he seemed to relax, but maintained a firm grip on her hand. "You are so precious," he whispered, trancelike. He closed his eyes, putting her hand on his cheek, leaning against it. "Such a precious little thing. If I could take that pain of yours, and carry it for you so that you could live free of any burdens," he opened his eyes and looked at her with a steady, unblinking gaze, "I want you to know that I would."

"But then who would carry your burdens?" she asked, thinking of the glass in his shoes.

He gave no answer, only brushed his fingers across her face, banishing the remaining tears one by one. "All better," he said with a smile.

"Can I help you?" said a male voice behind them.

"Yes!" said the Thorn, too eagerly. She broke away from Harrow and approached the desk. "I'm the Lowood University student who called yesterday to ask about viewing the rare books archive?"

The man at the desk ("R. Mason, Collections Manager," read his nametag) nodded. "Yes, I remember you. Student ID?"

She slid the card across the desk. Mason inspected it briefly and handed it back to her. "You're all set. And I take it your father will be joining us?"

"Sorry?"

Harrow stepped forward. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, sir. I'm an associate of hers."

If the brief meeting with the man-who-was-not-Marc had left the Thorn shaken, it was this exchange that finally broke her apart. Standing, crestfallen, amid the remains of the lies she had been telling herself for months, she felt that she was seeing clearly for the first time since she'd arrived in London. What right did she, of all people, have to fall in love with someone like Harrow? Someone old enough to be mistaken for her father? How naïve was she to believe it even mildly possible that he could come to love or even respect her in return? In his own words, she was an associate—nothing more, nothing less. In a few months' time she would complete her research and he would no longer be obligated to house her in his community, and then he would be free to turn her away into the cold, ugly world with nothing more than a handshake to commemorate their precious time together.

As Mason led them to the archive, Harrow put a gentle hand on the Thorn's shoulder. She shrugged it away.

"This manuscript was thought to be lost when the original copy was destroyed in the Library of Alexandria," Mason explained as he guided them through the forest of books, "but then a copy was discovered just a couple hundred years ago, hidden in the sarcophagus of an obscure Egyptian priest."

"Sounds about right," said the Thorn.

"This is it." Mason pulled a pair of sanitary gloves over his hands before taking the surprisingly large scroll and carrying it, so delicately one might assume it was in danger of exploding, into a small, gray room occupied only by a large and brightly-lit table. He spread the golden-brown, wrinkled papyrus under the lights. "If you must touch the papyrus, please do so with these gloves," he said, setting down two pairs of gloves identical to his. "I'm afraid protocol says you can't be in here alone with it, so I'll have to stay in the room—but I'll be right over there in the corner, and you won't even know I'm here."

Harrow's face soured as he regarded Mason, and the Thorn watched his hand tighten around the head of his cane. "He's just doing his job," she said, grabbing his arm. "We'll speak softly."

She scanned the ancient papyrus, suddenly noting the careful lyricism of the script. "Shit," she said, less quietly than she had intended, "it's written in hieratic. I suck at hieratic—it'll take me forever to read this." Shame pricked at her heart like a tiny electric shock ("why didn't you work harder at learning to read hieratic before you got here? incompetent, idiotic excuse for a historian you are").

"Let me," said Harrow, bending over the document. As he began to read, his face all at once came to life with a flame of quiet rapture.

"What if you miss something I would have picked up on?" asked the Thorn.

"I will not miss anything," he said with rumbling finality. End of discussion.

Chastened, and with a humiliating feeling of uselessness, the Thorn sat back in her chair and watched Harrow study the ancient manuscript.

There are few elements of humanity that are more beautiful to behold than passion in its purest, rawest form. No, reader, I don't necessarily mean the "moaning and clutching at bed sheets" kind of passion, though I'm sure that's nice too. In this case, I'm referring to the sort of passion a human will have for a career, or a hobby, or just a particular task they find invigorating. There's something beautifully pathetic in the way the whole self will narrow to the subject at hand—take, for instance, Steven Grant's ritual studying of the hieroglyphic alphabet late at night. He makes strange faces, sometimes talking or whispering to himself. His eyes squint behind his idiotic reading glasses. His hands roam the pages of his books, dragging the occasional yellow burst of highlighter across the word or phrase he finds interesting. Beautifully, tragically pathetic.

Contrast this scenario to our current scene: Harrow studying the ancient scroll. There was nothing beautifully pathetic about this display. "Passion" is far too mild of a descriptor for what this wretched man was doing. This was zealousness, obsession—a perverse, sickening thing to watch. The last time I saw a human with that look on their face, reader, that human ended up dead from twenty-three stab wounds in the middle of the Roman Senate. The Thorn, who was not oblivious to the unnatural expression on Harrow's face, dared not interrupt him to ask if he had found the information they both sought. After an age of torturous silence, he spoke at last:

"Yes."

"You found it? The location?" the Thorn asked.

Harrow looked at her. The ghost of a hungry, lustful smile rendered his face an inhuman sculpture. A gargoyle. "Oh, it won't be that easy," he said. "The great pilgrimage is only beginning, my jewel…but we are one step closer to knowing exactly where it begins."

"Excuse me," interrupted R. Mason, Collections Manager, emerging from his corner. "If I may ask, what exactly are you two researching?" Everything about this poor man, from his voice to his wide eyes to his unsteady hands, was coated with a mixture of suspicion and fear.

"I—" the Thorn began before Harrow cut her off.

"My colleague is studying the goddess Ammit for her doctoral dissertation," he explained.

"Your 'colleague' hasn't done anything but sit there for the past hour while you looked at the document," argued Mason (that poor, doomed man). He fixed his eyes on the Thorn. "Ma'am, what in particular is the focus of your research on Ammit?"

The Thorn tried again. "I—"

Harrow said her name. "Why don't you go and fetch the portfolio that you left in the locker downstairs?"

"What p—" she began, but in Harrow's eyes she read a clear warning: Go, and do not argue.

She did as she was told. Reader, given your prior knowledge of Harrow's wickedness, I'm sure you can intuit what happened next. I don't need to clarify the source of the thud she heard on the other side of the reading room door, the thud of something that had been a "he" and was now a mere "it." A softer thud than one would have expected, given R. Mason's height and weight—perhaps the human soul weighs even less than is commonly thought.

You may be wondering now (and may have already been wondering) how the Thorn could harbor such deep romantic love for Harrow while knowing he was a serial murderer. The answer is simple: She didn't know. Miraculously, after being alive for nearly thirty years, and living with the Followers of Ammit for half of one of those years, the Thorn still had yet to witness the death of another human being. This fact would change later that very night…but we're not there quite yet.

The rest of the day was spent with Harrow in his study, combing through books and internet archives, searching for any sign of the scarab-shaped compass that, according to the document they viewed at the library, would lead them to Ammit's tomb. The internet archives were the Thorn's idea, as Harrow was strangely aloof concerning the topic of the internet. He frequently seemed to forget its existence entirely, appearing ignorant of the many advantages it could offer him as both a scholar and a cult leader (I mean, even I know those things, and I'm not even human).

"Arthur," the Thorn said after a long silence, embracing the feel of his name in her mouth, "you have followers in Switzerland, right?"

"Yes," he replied without looking up from his own research.

"Look," she said, carrying her laptop over to him, "this has to be the scarab described in that document, right? It's in a museum in Bern."

"Let me see," Harrow carefully took the computer from her hands and studied the photo on the museum's website. "I think you're right," he said with an inspired smile. "We must act quickly to retrieve it—it's in a traveling exhibit at the Kunstmuseum until the end of the month." He was reading from a blurb under the photo. "After that, it'll be transferred back to the private residence of its owner, a man named Anton Mogart."

"Wouldn't it be easier to rob a private residene than a museum?" asked the Thorn. "Maybe we should wait to go after the scarab until next month."

"Oh, my lamb," Harrow laughed softly, "who ever said we were planning on robbing anyone? We're going to buy the scarab—well, barter for it, to be exact."

"Barter? With what?"

With a sweeping gesture, Harrow indicated the creepy collection of treasures that filled his "man-cave."

"Those? Those are…you know, real?" She'd always assumed they were replicas, if she thought of them at all—which, to be honest, she rarely did.

"Of course. What else would they be?"

"But how did you…I mean, those statues must be expensive as hell!" She knew he had accumulated some wealth over the years (hello, private plane), but to acquire a whole room full of genuine ancient sculptures he would need countless millions, at least.

A shadow crossed Harrow's face. "When I worked for Khonshu, I explored many ancient tombs, temples, palaces, et cetera. I'm very ashamed of it now, of course, but at the time it seemed a bit of a waste to come away empty-handed."

The Thorn was awestruck. "Oh my god," she said, "you were a vandal! A literal 'tomb buster!' …Sorry," she added hastily, seeing the very real shame in his eyes.

"That's correct," he said. "A vandal. But now, I have been blessed with an opportunity to put this sin to use for the greater good. The Kunstmuseum—well, Anton Mogart, to be exact—will doubtless take a few of those ill-gotten treasures in exchange for the scarab."

"Wow," she said, unable to think of anything more fitting to say. "Wow. I mean, this is…this is…"

"Yes," said Harrow. "It is." He closed the laptop and stood up. "I'll send Bobbi and Billy to the museum; they can confirm for us that the scarab is there. Once we have this confirmation, you and I will follow them to Bern and obtain the scarab."

"You and I?"

"Naturally. I would have no one else with me on this most fateful of missions." He stepped forward and took her face in his hands. "My strange, precious little dove."

Reader, in this moment it was harder than ever for the Thorn to tell herself the falsehood that her love for Harrow was unrequited. It took all the self-restraint in her pathetic little heart to avoid his eyes, fearing that if she returned his searing gaze her feelings would suddenly be known to him.

"I'm tired," she said. "I'm going to bed early."

Harrow leaned toward her. She reflexively closed her eyes in a moment of combined terror and excitement—but the kiss was for her forehead, not her lips.

"Good night, then, my…" Harrow trailed off. He covered his face with a hand and turned away."

That night, the Thorn's unquiet mind presented her with a new dream: She saw the community of the Followers of Ammit in ruins. Rivers of thin leftover smoke streamed in and out of the small blackened towers of brick, and rats were already beginning to pick apart what little flesh remained intact on the charred bodies. She woke with a dry sob, clutching Harrow's shirt to her chest. Turning over, she buried her face in the fabric and lustfully breathed in the scent of him the way a desert castaway might slurp the waters of an oasis.

As her breathing quieted, it gradually dawned on her that things were not right—very wrong, in fact. She remembered, for the first time in years, the terrifying pre-seizure feeling that had overtaken her in the cave as a child. WRONG. This was the same feeling, but no seizure came to relieve it.

Then she heard the distant screams.

With the throbbing premonition that she should not do this, she got up and approached her bedroom windows. She looked down onto the street. Empty. The screams continued—the hall, she realized with a sickening lurch, and tore out of her room and down the stairs. Reader, I don't know why she ran down to the hall. She knew that whatever was causing the screams was likely to be something which she had not the slightest power or expertise to handle on her own. But human nature is exhaustingly predictable, and the "hmm, I wonder what that weirdness could be?" instinct reigns supreme, without fail, above all reason and logic.

The "weirdness," in this case, was a lot of blood, more than the Thorn had ever seen in one place. It splattered the walls, pooled in thick scarlety swamps on the floor, and flowed primarily from the bodies that littered the disastrous scene, most of which were sprawled over the tables, apparently interrupted during a carefree, impromptu late-night meal.

[lindajenni]

feb 12

making my way to You "so that they should seek the Lord, in the hope that they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us." acts 17:27 these are some words of a song were written to describe a search for true love.  it was meant to be in the natural, but we all need to find our way home to the supernatural One. i ran full speed ahead without stopping to rest not knowing where i was headed to now that i'm here, it's perfectly clear i was making my way to You i tried to rush finding true love it didn't pan out like thought it would it took me some time but i got here as fast as i could can't believe how long it took but i got here as fast as i could yeah i got here as fast as i could are you running as fast as you can to find your true love?  and if you've found Him, are you doing all you can to keep that "first love" spirit burning in your breast?  making our way to Jesus is not just a one time experience in this life.  it is a continual making our way to Him until we take our last breath in this life.  it is only that continuance and abiding that will result in a last breath here and a immediate next breath in His presence (if breath is even needed in the afterlife). i can still remember my first love.  how i yearned to be in his presence - and how i prepared to go into that presence.  my appearance had to be just right.  and oh, how i sought to please him.  that's why i can't conceive of how anyone could claim to love Jesus and still be comfortable in their sin, knowing He is not pleased.  "therefore we make it our aim, whether present or absent, to be well pleasing to Him." 2 cor 5:9  that "first love" isn't just about physical nearness.  it's togetherness that transcends a bodily presence.  i have heard so many stories of how someone miles away from a loved one, knew in their spirit that something was wrong.  i believe that. yes, i'm making my way to You Lord.  there are many road blocks and detours that try to hinder my way, but i have the compass of the Holy Spirit and my eyes are fixed on You.  i just recently revisited "the pilgrims progress," so i speak of our journey.  i would just give a word of warning to my fellow travelers.  watch your thoughts, they become words; watch your words, they become actions; watch your actions, they become habits; watch your habits, they become character; watch your character, for it becomes your destiny. if we are careful to follow our compass, the Holy Spirit will aid you in changing into a new person by first changing the way you think.  let’s start there.  what do you think about?  what consumes your waking moments?  when your mind rests and disengages from the immediate task at hand, where does it go?  that is the place where Jesus wants to be most at home, in the forefront of your mind.  to make Jesus center means that your thoughts run to Jesus and your desire is to please Him more than anything.  has anyone ever read "practicing the presence of God?"  we need to practice it until we perfect it. remember the Lord's warning.  "enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it.  because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it." matt 7:13-14  the narrow way isn't the easy way, but it's the only way that leads to our blessed hope.  we can't work for salvation, but if there is no fruit in your life, remember the Lord's warning.  "and even now the ax is laid to the root of the trees.  therefore every tree which does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire." matt 3:10 help us Lord to abide in the vine; abide in You and stay in the narrow way.  we're making our way to You... all the way to You!

[jdgo51]

DAILY DEVOTIONAL FOR OCTOBER 13, 2022

God at Work

By Debbie O’Brien (North Carolina, USA)

READ ACTS OF THE APOSTLES 27:13-26

"When neither sun nor stars appeared for many days and the storm continued raging, we finally gave up all hope of being saved."

ACTS 27:20 (NIV)

"During my son’s struggle with addiction I often felt my hope fading. I was afraid he would be lost to this terrible evil. My fear and worry were never-ending and consumed every waking hour. Sometimes I felt I was in the raging storm Paul described in this story from Acts. I was struggling to pray and to trust God.

It must have been like that for the crew and other passengers on the boat with Paul — fearful they would not survive. Without the sun and the moon, they were unable to know where they were. But an angel of God came to Paul and told him not to fear, that all the passengers would survive.

With this revelation from God, Paul was able to encourage the passengers and to give them hope.

During my son’s struggles, God reassured me that he was at work in my son’s life. My worry and fear did not instantly disappear, but God’s reassurance gave me the hope I needed to carry on in prayer, asking God’s guidance for how best to help my son. I did not always like the answers I received; but with God’s help I was assured that my son was in God’s hands." Even in the hardest of times , God walks with you in the struggle. Whether it be an addiction of your child or any other horrible challenge. God has you in His hands. Just lean back and pull the support from Him. We have this assurance. Claim it always.

TODAY'S PRAYER

"Dear God, when the trials of life are overwhelming, help us to remember our hope is in you and that you will never forsake us. Amen."

Acts of the Apostles 27:13-26

"'13 When a gentle south wind began to blow, they thought they could carry out their plan. They pulled up anchor and sailed closely along the coast of Crete. 14 Before long, a hurricane-strength wind known as a northeaster swept down from Crete. 15 The ship was caught in the storm and couldn’t be turned into the wind. So we gave in to it, and it carried us along. 16 After sailing under the shelter of an island called Cauda, we were able to control the lifeboat only with difficulty. 17 They brought the lifeboat aboard, then began to wrap the ship with cables to hold it together. Fearing they might run aground on the sandbars of the Gulf of Syrtis, they lowered the anchor and let the ship be carried along. 18 We were so battered by the violent storm that the next day the men began throwing cargo overboard. 19 On the third day, they picked up the ship’s gear and hurled it into the sea. 20 When neither the sun nor the moon appeared for many days and the raging storm continued to pound us, all hope of our being saved from this peril faded. 21 For a long time no one had eaten. Paul stood up among them and said, “Men, you should have complied with my instructions not to sail from Crete. Then we would have avoided this damage and loss. 22 Now I urge you to be encouraged. Not one of your lives will be lost, though we will lose the ship. 23 Last night an angel from the God to whom I belong and whom I worship stood beside me. 24 The angel said, ‘Don’t be afraid, Paul! You must stand before Caesar! Indeed, God has also graciously given you everyone sailing with you.’ 25 Be encouraged, men! I have faith in God that it will be exactly as he told me. 26 However, we must run aground on some island.”' Paul had the appearance of an angel to let him know things would be okay. He gave assurance to all of the men that safety would be found by them, also. Even in the midst of a major storm when everything seems to be destroyed, there is hope to hang on at the end of the storm. God does have something better for you. Blessings! Joe

[fiveisnumber1]

Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader

Main story parts:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31

_________________________

Pt 31 - Commission Issues

As you zoned out looking at the sky and wondering about the possibilities of what would come next you hear Luther call out behind you,

"Five!"

Coming back to reality you turn towards the sound and watch as Luther follows Five back into the apartment building. You decide to follow them as well but not before looking at Klaus and Ben on the ground and say,

"Whatever that was, I'm going to ignore it but you two need to figure out where the others went while I help Five with whatever idea he has next, okay?"

"Uhh...sure" Klaus groans as he stands up

"Fine, we will," Ben adds

You nod your head and turn around rushing to follow the two boys who were heading inside the building. As you followed them up the staircase you could hear Luther exclaim,

"Hey! Five, doomsday is still coming. We gotta think of a new plan."

"Don't you get it, Luther? It's over, all right? We're already dead." Five complains

"Then where are you going?" Luther questions

"I'm going to do the unthinkable." Five replies frustratedly  "The hell is that supposed to mean?" Luther follows up

As the three of you enter the apartment you hear Five mumble to himself, "I was really hoping it wouldn't come to this."

With that, he enters what used to be Elliott's bedroom and shuts and locks the door behind him. Luther leans up against it knocking and yelling, "Come to what, Five? Five! Come to what? Five!"

Luther bangs on the door calling out Five's name over and over again to no response. You step next to Luther and when he looks down at you, you say,

"Let me talk to him."

Luther nods at you knowing that you were probably the best option to talk to him. If anybody was going to calm down and reason with him, it was going to be you. As Luther walks away to the living room portion of the apartment, you phase through the bedroom door. Once you enter, you watch as Five paces back and forth complaining to himself,

"All we had to do was get together on time. That was it! those idiots screw everything up."

"Five..." You say

"I do everything to try and save us from impending doom and I can't even rely on them for the simplest of tasks!" He continues to complain

"Five." You try again

"I bet they'll blame it all on me again too!"

"Five!" You call out grabbing his hand

Five stops pacing and his head snaps towards you. 

"What?!" He snapped

You were taken aback by his outburst, your eyes going wide at the harsh tone of his voice. You could see the frustration on his face and the anger in his eyes. You knew deep down that he was just worried, but sometimes his emotions didn't come easy and it hurt you to see him so upset. 

Five was done with the constant threat of the apocalypse. With not being listened to and with plan after plan to get everyone home failing. He wanted to run away from it all but then he saw the shocked look on your face, and his mind flashed back to all those years ago when you both were children. He recalled the anger and frustration he felt at his father not listening to him and not believing in his ability to time travel. The rage that burned inside him because things had not gone the way he wanted. And he remembered the way you held onto him and the shocked look on your face as he took his anger out on you. Those moments, that day, burned themselves into his mind and plagued him through his whole life. He had always regretted that day, and probably always would but there was no way he was going to make the same mistake twice. Five's head looked down shamefully as he quietly apologized,

"I'm sorry..."

Letting go of his hand you take a step forward and gently cradle his face in your hands, tilting his head up slightly so he can look at you. You look into his eyes and the anger you saw before was replaced with pain. Softly you cooed,

"It's okay darling."

"No. It's not. I shouldn't have done it." Five replied hurt "We both remember the last time I took my anger out on you and look how great that turned out."

Five turned his head slightly to look away from you. He couldn't believe himself for directing his anger towards you when you didn't do anything wrong. When you've never done anything wrong. If anything he had done wrong towards you. You knew Five regretted the day you both traveled through time. He had mentioned it to you a few times but sometimes he'd have a far-off look and you could just tell that his thoughts of that day were consuming him again. He lived with so much pain due to his actions and their consequences and you wished you could just take it all away. You tilted his face back towards you and tried to comfort him,

"Five, I don't blame you for what happened that day, it was the result of years of cruelty from your father, and no offense to them, but your siblings have let you down consistently over what has only been two weeks for you. You had and have every right to be upset."

"You're correct but that didn't and doesn't make it right for me to take it out on you." Five calmly explained "It was wrong then and it's wrong now. I'm sorry."

"It's okay my love." you forgive

"How can you be so forgiving of me? After everything I've done?" Five questions

"Five I knew who you were before that day, and I know you now. People make mistakes, and you're no exception, but it's the actions you took after them that prove you're a good person and worthy of forgiveness." You inform

Five just looks at you for a second before stepping forward and wrapping you tightly in his arms. You remove your hands from his face and wrap your arms around his neck hugging him back. He loved you so much and god knows what he would do if he lost you again. He didn't want to lose his family either. He'd never say it especially because he's tried to show it to no avail, but he cared about his siblings. They were his family and he wanted them to live just as much as he wanted you to. The apocalypse was coming and time was running out for you and his family. And that worried him. As you hug him, you can feel his face bury into the crook of your neck. Gently, you stroke his hair as he quietly says,

"They make it so hard. I just want you all to live."

"I know, but you have a brilliant mind and I know you'll figure out how to get us out of here." You whisper back to him

Five shakes his head on your shoulder before he lifts his head to rest his forehead against yours.

"I don't deserve you." He remarks

"Say that again and I'll kill you." you threaten 

Five lets out a light chuckle and a smirk comes to his face. He could not tell how serious your statement was but he found your threat of violence to be cute anyway. You and Five pull your faces back from each other and Five just looks at you for a second. He truly did not know how he could live without you. Nodding his head, Five straightened up and said,

"Alright, I have a hail mary plan in mind but I have to figure out some details first."

"Okay. While you do that I think I'm going to go check to see if Charlie is around. No guarantees he's come this way yet but just in case he has I want to let him know I'm okay." You reply

You nod your head at him and start to walk away but when you get to the door you turn back to look at him again and add,

"If you figure out your plan and I'm not back, just go without me I'll wait here."

"Okay." Five replies "I love you."

"I love you too." 

You then exit the room and let your boyfriend be. He was going to need the time and space to figure out what to do. As you walk out you see that Luther had passed out on the couch in the living room. Stopping the apocalypse was a pretty tiring affair. You walked out of the apartment and looked around the street. It was pretty barren and a lot of shops were closed given that JFK was in town. Most people had probably headed downtown to see the motorcade later today. it sure would be eventful. You couldn't really see Charlie's car anywhere and you were about to turn around when you hear what sounded like a woman yell out,

"HELP!"

Immediately, your instincts kicked in and you ran towards the voice screaming out. Following it down an alley you stopped and looked around for who was in danger. Before you could turn around though something jabbed into your back and you started to feel dizzy. You tried to fight off whatever was happening but it was too late and you collapsed to the group. As your consciousness started to fade in and out, the last thing you heard was someone saying,

"I'm sure your brother will be happy to see you."

Back at the apartment, Five had finally come to terms with his plan. He needed to intercept the last person he'd want to see in this timeline. Himself. An older-looking version of him had arrived in Dallas no more than 10 minutes ago to kill President Kennedy and although it was risky, if they could get the briefcase from him, Five knew he could get his family home. He needed to prepare though. Rushing out of the bedroom, Five heads towards the kitchen and loudly opens the refrigerator door. The sound of the fridge causes Luther to wake. And as he gets up from the couch he calls out,

"Five? Five?" 

Five ignored the calls as he grabbed a container of water and started to chug it down. When Luther entered the kitchen he looked upon the sight before him of Five intensely drinking water. Furrowing his eyebrows, Luther asks confused,

"Five, you okay?"

Five gasps heavily as he finishes the water and puts the container back in the fridge.  "I'm gonna need to be hydrated." Five states

"Hydrated?" Luther questions

Luther watches as Five frantically looks around the kitchen for something before having his eyes lock on the kitchen table. Five walks over to it and quickly grabs a bottle of baby powder off of it before sprinkling some down each sleeve of his shirt and then some down his pants. Luther grew concerned about what was going on as he inquires,

"What's with the baby powder?" "It'll help with the itching." Five responds  "What itching? There's itching? What the hell is going on here?" Luther asks before realizing "You do have a plan." Five does a few jumps and shakes to even out the baby powder he had practically doused himself in. Grabbing his jacket from the chair he walks past Luther into the living room of Elliott's apartment and explains, "Well, it's a desperation move, but since our brain-dead siblings are incapable of meeting a simple deadline, I got no choice."

Luther turns to look at his sibling and asks, "No choice about what?"

"I have to find myself." Five states looking at his watch "I just arrived in Dallas 15 minutes ago." "Should I be worried about you?" 

Five puts his academy jacket back on before bending over and starting to stretch. If he was going to do this he needed to know he was dexterous enough to fight or run after himself. With his younger body and surplus of energy, it probably wouldn't be that hard. Then again it was only two weeks ago when he was still working for the commission as well, and even in his old age, he was taking people out left and right. As he stretches Five explains,

"Luther, if you recall, I was sent to 1963 on a job by the Commission to make sure the president was assassinated." "Oh! So, wait, your old self is out there." Luther says

Five stood up and looked at his brother. Finally, the wheels in Luther's big monkey brain were starting to turn and he was starting to grasp the plan Five had come up with. "Precisely." Five states "What, just walking around Dallas?"  Luther asks confused

Nevermind. The monkey brain was still a monkey brain. Realizing his nitwit brother would not understand unless he described it in the same way he'd talk to a six-year-old, Five emphasized, "Walking around Dallas with a briefcase that can get us home." 

Luther's eyes go wide and a surprised expression appears on his face as Five watches the lightbulb finally goes off in Luther's head. It was honestly disappointing how long it took for that to happen. "Oh, my God. Five, you're a genius!" Luther exclaims

He may be a genius but the plan wasn't perfect though. There were significant flaws in it but it was a hail-mary for a reason. Turning to Luther, Five elaborates, "However, there are two significant problems with this plan. Problem number one: I am a trained assassin, arguably the most dangerous assassin in the space-time continuum. If I know me, I'm not going to react kindly to bumping into myself. Problem number two, and this is the real fly in the ointment here: you're not supposed to exist in close proximity to yourself in the same timeline. The side effects can be disastrous." "Side effects? What sort of side effects?" Luther inquires

"Well, according to Commission Handbook Chapter 27, subsection 3b, the seven stages in paradox psychosis are stage one: denial, two: itching, three: extreme thirst and urination, four: excessive gas, five: acute paranoia, six: uncontrolled perspiration, and seven: homicidal rage." Five explains "Homicidal rage?" Luther questions

"Yeah." Five states "Jeez, I don't know. This maybe isn't such a good idea."  "It's a Hail Mary. But what choice do we got, Luther?" Five exclaims "I don't know, you already seem a bit squirrelly if I'm being honest." "Look, Luther, I'm gonna need you to help me get through this one, all right? I...I need a spotter." "A spotter?"

"Yeah."

"What is that? Like, a wingman?" Luther questions

"In case the paradox psychosis gets too severe, I need you to help me stay on task, all right? So, whatever happens, whatever I say, we need to get that briefcase. Okay?" Five explains

"Okay, but where's (Y/N)?" Luther questions looking around

"I don't know. She said she was going on a walk to find Charlie but I guess hasn't come back yet." Five states "Maybe it's better that way though."

"You don't want your girlfriend coming? Don't you think she could rationalize with you more than I can if things get bad with this paradox psychosis?" Luther states concerned

"Most likely, and honestly I wouldn't mind some more steadiness from her" Five says

He then stops for a moment to think about the events at the Lonely Lodger Inn from earlier. He wouldn't mind that at all. 

"Five?" Luther calls

Pulled from his thoughts he looks back to Luther and continues to explain,

"BUT if she's not there I can use my knowledge of her as leverage against myself. 45 years ago was the last time he saw her alive. He's sad, desperate, and blames himself for her death.  We can use his emotional turmoil to get the briefcase if necessary."

Luther looked at his brother shocked. He knew where Five was coming from but it was almost vile considering using you against the other version of himself. Like he had said that version of him is sad, desperate, and blames himself for your death. Withholding knowledge about you just to get the briefcase would probably be on torture levels for him. Luther knew how strongly Five felt about you and the two of you were together now, so he could only imagine what could happen with the version that hasn't seen you in years.

"You're going to use your girlfriend like blackmail against yourself?"

"As I said, if necessary I will." Five comments as he starts to walk away "Now, come on Luther."

"Right..." Luther says to himself

Leaving out of the apartment the two of them head out in search of Five's Commission self. Although both still wondered where you were. 

____________________________

As you started to regain your consciousness the world around you began to flood your senses. Your mind felt fogged as your head rested heavily on a cold surface. Your eyelids drooped but you tried to open them to see where you were. Through blurred vision, you were able to make out an empty grey room. It reminded you of the interrogation room at the police station Eudora worked at. This definitely wasn't the alley you were in. You moved your body around and with enough force, you manage to get yourself upright but your heavy head still hung low. As you became upright you could feel your backside hit the backing of the chair you were in. You moved your arms trying to readjust yourself but as you did so you hear the sounds of clanking and realized there was something around your wrists. You were handcuffed. 

"Maybe Charlie was right about not running towards danger." You groan

It felt like your physical being and consciousness were both moving through sludge. Whatever that person injected into you to knock you out was sure as hell powerful. You tried to think of a plan to get out but all of them involved your powers and you could just feel the fatigue run through your veins from the sedative. Taking some breaths you tried to figure out where you were and where to go from here. Listening carefully you could hear the buzzing of the light above you but also the sounds of people walking and chattering outside the room you were in. Gathering energy, you threw your head back so that it was facing up towards the ceiling. You moved your eyes around and spotted a door to the left of you. There were no real defining characteristics to let you know where you were. Maybe Reggie had informed the government about you and now the FBI or CIA was going to use you as a weapon of mass destruction. Maybe the Soviets had kidnapped you and were going to use you as ransom to the US government because apparently, the world saw you as the adoptive daughter of an eccentric billionaire. Either way, you didn't know where you were and you didn't know how to get out. Overall, this was a very bad situation. Without any other real options, you sat there and waited for something to happen. As you did so you could hear the door open and the sound of someone walking into the room before closing the door behind them.

"Good, you're awake." The voice commented

You knew that voice. It was the same one as the person who had knocked you out. Although you were still too sluggish to do anything about your situation you could feel a fire start to build. Rolling your head to the side you looked towards the figure. Across the other side of a table stood a woman in all black clothes with a late 90s grunge cut with a fake smile on her face. Narrowing your eyes at them you demanded,

"Where am I?"

"You're at the Temps Commission." They responded

"Fuck." You said under your breath

This was worse than you thought, and now you were wishing you were captured by the KGB or US government. You had no clue what they knew nor what they wanted from you and since you couldn't fight back, the best course of action was to stay quiet. No matter what, you would not reveal any information about the Hargreeves but especially Five. They had been on his ass ever since he returned to 2019 and you were not going to let them get to him. The woman before you looked over as you sat in silence.

"What, no more questions?" They inquire "I feel like you'd have a lot more given who I am."

"I have no clue who you are." You remark

"Lila?" 

Oh. Her. Great. Letting out an annoyed huff you stare at her with an unimpressed expression. 

"Ah yes, now I recall," You comment, sarcasm laced in your voice "You're my emotionally damaged, older brother's sloppy seconds hookup, who in reality is a vomit bag of lies and manipulation."

"Listen here you little prick, I'm his girlfriend." She snaps

"You ain't shit. His girlfriend is a corpse, six feet under and somehow she's still better than you." You scoff 

As your confidence grew, you started to realize that the sedative was wearing off more. You started to feel less sluggish and although physically you couldn't do much your mind became clearer. You didn't want to tip Lila off that you were regaining your strength though so you stayed in your slumped position but kept a cocky look on your face. Lila slams her hands down on the table and stares at you intensely. 

"I should kill you." She threatens

"Do it. I'm sure that'll go over real well with my brother." You remark sarcastically 

"You a bigger pain in the ass than Five." She remarks annoyed

"Good." You reply curtly

The two of you stare each other down intensely, neither of you saying anything. After a few moments, Lila remarks,

"You're an asshole." 

"And you're the walking embodiment of sad British cooking. Fucking basic beans and toast looking ass bitch." You retort

You watch and Lila's face contorted with a flurry of emotions. Shock, confusion, anger. They were all present. Lila then stands up straight once more and in a monotone voice states,

"I have a meeting to go to."

Turning away from you she heads to the door. As she does so you shout behind her,

"Ha! That's right, leave! And just know if I could flip you off right now I would!"

As Lila steps out of the room you can hear her say to someone,

"You watch over her for now and bring her to my mother's office in 15 minutes. Understood?"

And as Lila fully leaves the room another woman steps in. Closing the door behind her, she looks through the glass window of the door as if trying to check for something before pulling the curtain down. Locking the door she walks over to the table and pulls up a chair across from you. With her hands clasped nicely on the table, she gives you a genuine wide smile and says,

"Hiya! I'm Dot!"

You looked at the woman before you. She seemed kind but this was also the Temps Commission so you had your reservations about trusting her. 

"(Y/N)..." 

"Oh, I know!" She replies in an upbeat tone "And let me tell you, a lot of us down at case management are so happy for you and Five. A lot of us wish the process was sped up but we have no real say in any decisions here but gosh we're just so happy for you two."

You stared at her blankly. She seemed sincere in her congrats, but part of you worried this was just some ploy to get you to let your guard down. You shifted uncomfortably in your chair and quietly commented back,

"Uh...thanks."

Dot let out a small sigh as her smile faltered a bit. Giving you a soft expression she lowers her voice and states,

"Listen, I know you're probably hesitant to trust me but if I'm going to get you out of here you're going to need to."

"I'm not going to trust anybody here. Five has told me all about you all." You state

"I understand. Let me just do something to prove you can trust me. Please just don't run after I do it. It'll cause a whole lotta trouble for the both of us." Dot says

You watch as she gets up from her seat and walks behind you. You try to turn your head as best as you can to see what she's doing but between the sedative still working its way out of your system and the fact you could not turn your head like an owl it was difficult. You watch as she crouches down for a second and then you hear the sound of something clattering to the ground. Dot walks back to her chair and sits down. As she does that you realize the clattering sound was that of your handcuffs falling to the floor. She had let you go knowing there was a chance you would run away. If you were able to move better maybe you would but that wasn't a possibility yet and you were a little curious as to what was up with her now. Shaking your wrists out a bit, Dot comments to you,

"You're free now, but please don't run. Let me get you out of here the right way."

"Get me out of here? What do you mean?" You questioned as you rested your arms on the table

Dot looked around the room once more checking to make sure nothing was there to see and hear her. Looking back towards you she explains,

"The Handler is trying to take over the commission. I and a few other folks are part of an underground resistance effort to try and stop her, because if she takes the reigns of this whole place we have no clue what will happen, but we know it won't be good."

"What do you know then?" You question, leaning forward in your seat

"From what we can infer, she wants the apocalypse to happen and she wants it to wipe out Five and the rest of the Hargreeves. But Lila obviously has a soft spot for your brother and brought him here."

"My brother Diego." You state

You knew that it was Diego who she brought. Of course, it was. Logically, it was the only answer that made sense. Hell, she thought she was his girlfriend. And yet, there was a part of you that thought about your other brother, Dean. You knew it was unlikely that he was here. It was virtually impossible, but maybe if he was all of your friends were here too. The look on your face must've said what you were thinking because Dot reached across the table and took your hands in her own.

"I'm sorry about your other brother." She consoled

Your heart clenched at those words. Taking a deep breath you attempted to ask,

"I'm guessing he..."

"Yes." Dot answered, "Along with the rest of your friends."

You looked down and nodded your head lightly. You knew how the world ended. You knew that the reality you had known, did end. And yet, somehow up until now, you had been able to block out the true gravity of the situation. You remembered how you joked with Charlie that he was the only friend you had left and to stay away from fireplaces or else you would have no one. You truly had not grieved their loss for years and instead had evaded it with humor or distractions. But now you were faced with the truth that you had always known. Your friends were dead. The apocalypse killed them. You held Dot's hands a little tighter as you squeezed your eyes shut trying to keep the tears that were forming back. With eyes still closed, you took a few small breaths before quietly asking,

"How did it happen?"

There was a silence in the room as the air loomed heavy over the two of you. Dot then took a breath before answering,

"In their last moments, they were all together singing happy birthday to your friend Kenny."

You lifted your head towards Dot and opened your eyes. You nodded your head as you managed to fight back your grief and replied softly.

"...at least Dean kept his promise."

"I know this is difficult for you to deal with especially since things are already so stressful but we can get them back." Dot states calmly

"How?" You inquired

If you had a chance to save the Hargreeves, and get your friends back, you would take it, no matter what. You loved them all and nothing was going to stop you from keeping them alive.

"In the simplest of terms, stop The Handler, Stop the 1963 apocalypse, and return the original timeline." 

"I'm in." You reply without hesitation "What do I need to do?"

"Lila knows that you matter more to Diego than she does, so she brought you here to use you to keep Diego in line. We're going to head to the Handler's office soon so Lila can use you as said bait. What you need to do is still pretend that you are too sedated to actually fight or anything." Dot starts to explain

"Pretend? I am still too sedated to fight." You state confused

"Not for long though." She replies "I went to our Metaphysics Division laboratory-"

She had to be joking right? The whole concept of the Temps Commission was crazy enough but a Metaphysics Division was honestly ridiculous to you. Cutting her off you sarcastically questioned,

"Metaphysics Division? What do they do? Turn decades into candy? Synthesize a person's memories from their DNA into an injectable? Create bodies for consciousness to be transferred into?"

"They already did the first one, I'm sure they could do the second if they tried, and they accomplished the last one until Five blew up the briefcase room which unfortunately shared a wall with the lab. They moved the lab location to a safer spot after that." Dot explained, "Point being, I stole a vile of adrenaline for you."

"Because adrenaline helps bring back my powers. That's genius." You compliment

"Yes. So during the meeting, you're just going to pretend that you're still very sedated but after that, we move into phase 2."

"And what's that?" You ask

"We're getting you out of here and back to Five."

With that, Dot pulls the vial of adrenaline and a packaged medical needle out of her pocket and slides them across the table to you.

"I'm not sure what your limit is so I don't want to be the one to inject it. Also, as a fair warning, we don't have much time until I need to take you to the Handler's office." Dot explains

You nodded your head at her and grab the vial and needle. You had watched Kenny do this enough times for you that you felt you could figure it out on your own with minimal problems. Opening the packaged needle you go through the steps to fill it with the adrenaline from the vile before injecting it into your arm. You weren't sure how much you were supposed to give yourself but you felt much more energized even in the few minutes after doing so. Dot turned to you and you knew from the look on her face that it was time to go. Grabbing the handcuffs from the floor you handed them to Dot before putting your hands behind your back. Once they were on you got yourself in the headspace of pretending to be somewhat sedated and started acting less alert and coordinated.

"Are you ready?" Dot questioned

"Yup. Let's set this plan in motion." You reply

Dot then unlocks the door and the two of you walk out of the room down the halls of the commission towards the Handler's office. In the office though, the Handler looked in disbelief at Lila and her pick for new commission security detail.

"Are you kidding me?" The Handler exclaims

"You said I could hire my own team." Lila states "Yes, but I didn't mean him, for God's sake. If you don't see the problem with hiring you-know-who's brother, then you're not ready for that badge." The Handler complains

Diego looks at the scene before him of the back and forth between mother and daughter. This was going nowhere and he was not meant to be here. Trying to get up and leave he says, "I'm sorry, but I really need to get going." "Shut up!" They both yell at him

Diego slowly sits back down in his seat as the two of them go back and forth with each other. "I can't do this job if you don't trust my instincts," Lila complains "Sweetheart, your vagina needs glasses. He is not worth it." The Handler criticizes  "Mum! Oh, my God."Lila exclaims embarrassed before changing her tune "This may shock you, but not everyone here likes you."

The Handler looks at Lila confused as she states, "Sounds ridiculous, but go on." "You need fresh blood loyal to us and not the old regime. I've seen Diego in the field. He is so much better trained than most of the assholes here. Why waste that when we can use it? He'll be my personal responsibility." Lila explains to her mother

The Handler turns her attention from Lila to Diego.

"You know, your brother Five and I have quite a colorful history." The handler playfully comments with a wink

Diego looks at her confused and disgusted. He hoped to god that she wasn't insinuating what he thought she was because if so he was going to kick Five's ass. Trying to both change the topic, and gage what she meant Diego replies, "My brother has beef with all except one person, and that person is not me." Diego retorts "Let me ask you something. When you're looking down the barrel of a gun, where do your loyalties lie, with your family or your principles?" The Handler asks "With me. I don't belong to anybody. Especially Lila." Diego retorts

The handler stares Diego down for a bit and there is a silence in the air. Turning back to Lila she states, "That I can work with. Run him through orientation and fill out his paperwork."

A wide smile comes to Lila's face as she happily exclaims, "Aw, thanks, Mum! I'm glad you're on board, but just to be sure he behaves I do have an insurance policy in place."

"A what?" Diego questioned

The door then opened from behind him. You had been waiting on the other side of the wall with Dot for a few minutes for some kind of signal to enter the room. You guessed Lila wanted dramatic effect, which was very villain-esque and very cliche. Walking into the room you made sure that you looked physically weak so that they wouldn't feel like you had the full ability to fight them again. Dot sat you down in a chair in between Diego and Lila before walking back outside of the room. Turning to your brother you smile at him and comment,

"Hey Eggo, how's it going? Did you get drugged and kidnapped as well?"

Diego's pulse begins to quicken as he looks between you and Lila. Anger started to build inside of him as his eyes locked on Lila. She looked at him from her seat with confusion.

"Diego, what's wrong?" She questioned

Diego couldn't believe that it was even a question of what could be wrong. How could she not see the awful nature of what she had done? Shooting up from his chair, Diego moves to place himself between you and Lila. He wasn't going to let her get any closer to you. She had already hurt you once and there was no way he was going to let it happen again. Not on his watch.

"What's wrong?" He questioned rhetorically before yelling "YOU DRUGGED AND KIDNAPPED MY SISTER!"

Lila did not fully think this plan through. She knew that Diego had a soft spot for you so she knew she could use you to help get him to stay and work as security. What she had not anticipated was his anger. She thought he would be a little upset but still happy to have you with him. That was not looking like the case though. Standing up as well, Lila tries to downplay the severity of what she had done. 

"Diego, calm down, she's fine. A little sedated but fine." Lila explains with some nervous laughter

"Fine would be her not being here at all Lila!" Diego rebuked

The Handler looked at the lover's quarrel going on between the two of them.  It was unexpected but it revealed a side of Diego that was unknown before. It was impressive that Lila had thought ahead to bring in the one loyalty that Diego had so that he would be less likely to act out.

"I see you do have some loyalties..." The Handler comments "Good thinking on the blackmail sweetheart."

As you quietly sat handcuffed, trying to pretend that you had no ability to use your powers, you couldn't help but get irritated at Lila and Diego. Feeling the need to add your input, you cut in commenting,

"Y'know...I'm just putting it out there, but Eudora never would've drugged and kidnapped me to use me as blackmail because she was actually a good person." 

"Shut up." Lila scolds, glaring at you

"Don't talk to my sister like that!" Diego reprimands

"Yeah! Fuck you, beans and toast." You add 

"What?" Diego asks looking down at you confused

"Just roll with it." You whisper back to him

"Diego," Lila calls bringing his attention back to her "Look at it this way. At least she's with you her brother and not her awful boyfriend, Five."

"He's a pain in my ass, and I don't like sharing her but he's not an awful boyfriend. Everything he has done is for her." Diego replies

"I'm telling him you said that." You mention

Diego once again turns to look at you and in the sternest of tones he states,

"No." 

He then turns back to Lila and continues to explain,

"And second of all, I'd rather her be with him than here because then at least I know she's protected."

The Handler was becoming less and less amused by this argument the more it went on. Deciding she was done with their petty bickering she stood up from her desk and commanded,

"Enough. Lila, take your little puppy to orientation." 

Lila tried grabbing Diego's arm to take him away but he held his ground. No matter what he was not going to leave you behind, especially not alone with the Handler. Lila looked between her mother and Diego, growing increasingly worried about what would happen if Diego didn't leave with her soon. Lila tried pulling him along once more but he pulled his arm from her grasp. Placing a hand on your shoulder he turned to face the handler. Standing his ground, Diego demanded,

"I'm not going anywhere without my sister."

"Alright." The handler replies monotonously "Kill him, Lila."

"No!" You and Lila shout in unison

The two of you glare at each other before you look towards your brother. He was not dying just because he felt this need to stick around and protect you. You knew he was always going to put you first in a way he barely did with anyone else, but you were not going to risk losing your other brother because of his need to protect you.

"Diego please go." You asked calmly

Diego looked towards you before crouching down in front of you. Looking you in the eyes, he gently holds onto each of your arms. He said no words but you could feel his hands shake.

"I'm not leaving you." He stated, trying to keep his voice calm

There was a certain deja vu to the conversation you were having with Diego. Your brain traveling back to that day in 2019. You tried not to think too much about it but knowing what had happened after made this conversation even harder. You didn't want to make your brother leave, but you knew you needed to so he could be safe. You just hoped that this time things would turn out better.

"Diego. Go." You forced out 

He looked at you sadly but knew you wouldn't budge on the issue. Wrapping his arms around you he pulls you into a tight hug, not wanting to let you go. If your hands weren't cuffed behind your back you would've held him as well but all you could do was rest your head on his shoulder.

"I'll be okay," you whispered, trying to reassure Diego of the decision 

"I'm gonna come back for you." He whispered back

He let out a sigh before standing up and reluctantly nodding towards Lila to show him the way. You turned your head to watch him leave. Diego looked back at you one more time, hoping that he would see your face again soon. And with that, he left and you were now left alone with the Handler herself. You watched as she made her way around her desk and leaned back on it so she was now in front of you. She gave you a smile that was nowhere near as friendly as Dot's was. It unsettled you greatly. Instinctively, you leaned back in your seat as you stared quietly back at her.

"So you must be Five's little plaything," The handler comments "I'm so glad I finally get to meet you. I was hoping it would be on better circumstances but for some reason, Five never wanted to bring you around."

You could see why he didn't want you two to meet. Although she tried to portray herself as kind it was very evident that she was psychotic. 

"Not much of a talker, huh?" She questions "Maybe a candy would help? Would you like one?"

She gestures to a bowl of candy on her desk. Honestly, you wouldn't mind one and you were so done with the day at this point that you were willing to accept the risk it might be poisoned.

"Sure, but uh...I can't really grab it." You reply shaking your arms to gesture to the handcuffs

The handler moves from leaning on her desk to behind you and undoes one handcuff before re-cuffing it on the armrest of the chair you were in. Still not great, but at least you were able to have some movement of your hands and arms. The handler grabs a piece of candy from the bowl and hands it to you. A smirk resided on her face as she watches you take the candy from her hand.

"Here have this one," she says before walking back behind her desk

As she walks back to her chair, you unwrap the candy and pop it in your mouth. It didn't taste too great. It tasted like stress and tears and sadness, but then again it was not as bad as the weird food concoctions you and your friends had made before. You crunched on it a little bit before swallowing it all. As the handler sits back down in her seat she starts to say,

 "We've synthesized specific years into- wait did you just eat that whole thing?"

"Yeah." You reply bluntly

"That was The Great Depression candy." She states shocked

"Ah, that makes more sense. I thought it just tasted like finals week. Not bad though." You respond

The handler looks at you baffled. She purposely gave you the Great Depression as a way to knock you down and show her superiority but you ate the whole thing like it was nothing. 

"Not bad? It was made to taste like blood, sweat, tears, and depression."

You shrug your shoulders and nonchalantly reply,

"It could be worse."

"It could be worse? What is wrong with you?" She questions before saying "Nevermind."

The handler took a moment to try and regain herself. Not even she was able to eat the Great Depression candy without gagging. This was a situation she had not anticipated but she wasn't going to be confused or intimidated by some child. You on the other hand felt a pride rise inside you. You tried to hold your laughter back as you thought to yourself, Now I've thrown her off her rhythm. This situation was bad but at least you were able to make it entertaining. The handler after reestablishing her "polite" composure brought a faux smile back to her face as she turned her attention towards you again.

"You are quite the individual. Just like Five, we've had our eyes on you for a long time."

"That's kinda creepy but alright." You comment back

"Well, we do monitor all of time to make sure that what's supposed to happen, happens. Of course, we were going to notice children with unexplained immense powers, such as yourself. Molecular manipulation is quite the gift."

"Yeah, you could say I'm the main character of this story." You mention with a wink "No one can do what I do."

"I'm sure someone could mimic your powers."

"Ha! I sure would like to see that bitch try." you scoffed "The dipshit would be writhing on the ground in pain for their hubris. I can only imagine what type of dumbass would willingly take on feeling the extent of everything that makes up this world without years of tolerance training. Idiot."

You couldn't believe the stupidity of her statement. You'd think if she had been monitoring you throughout your life that she would know it took you forever to build up a tolerance to feeling the molecules in the world. Before you started learning to control your abilities you blew stuff up as a child because you were in pain. Imagine having such a large ego that you think you could copy that without putting in any training for it. What a "yeah let me just try to surpass god" type of mentality you were getting from this woman.

The handler couldn't believe you either. She was growing more frustrated with you having some kind of counterpoint to everything she did or said. It was like you were prepared to be here even though it was clearly established that you weren't. She was just glad that the only power you had right now was the ability to run your mouth. The handler knew she was going to get under your skin though. She had her ways.

"You know, it's just so sweet the history that you and Five have. Always believing the two of you would find each other again one day." She states, traces of malice in her tone "It's something I thought about during Five and I's involved, and colorful history."

You furrowed your eyebrows. Did- did she think you were stupid? You knew she was trying to suggest that she and Five were a thing but they obviously weren't. Anyone with half a brain cell could see that. Your boyfriend hated this woman and hated his time at the commission. He said it himself, it was nothing more than a job. He absolutely despised these people, especially her, and currently was working directly against this organization as he always had been. And on top of it, everything he's done was motivated by his love for you. Even Diego who was not happy that you had a boyfriend knew that was Five's motivation. This woman was certifiably insane. 

"Ma'am if you're trying to insinuate you fucked my boyfriend, I know you're lying. Intimacy of any kind, but especially physical intimacy catches him off guard." You elaborate unamused "Also if you two have such an involved history then why is that he spent his whole life trying to get back to me, despises you and the rest of the commission, and is actively trying to thwart you in every way possible."

The handler glared at you. She thought she was going to get under your skin with that comment and yet here you sat throwing it back in her face and getting under hers. Scornfully she rebuked,

 "You know I never quite understood why Five chose you. I can't seem to find one reason to like you."

"Well, I can seem to find a lot of reasons actually. I'm pretty, I'm smart, I'm powerful, I cared for him when no one else would, I didn't knowingly leave him alone in an apocalyptic wasteland for 45 years." You retort sarcastically "And those are just a few of the many reasons."

"You know pride is one of the seven deadly sins," The handler comments leaning forward in her seat

"So is envy." you retort

The handler gets back up from her seat and walks over to you once more. Looking down at you with contempt she asks,

"You know what I see?"

"What?" you reply

"I see a weak, pathetic child who thinks that she's the center of attention in this giant book of life. A child who is so scared of confronting her past she hides behind a harsh exterior with only her words to defend her." She attempts to insult

It didn't work though because you knew she was wrong. She had no clue who you were or what you were like. You had her stumped and you knew she was grasping at straws to try and put you down. To try and make you feel belittled so that she could exert power over you. She had no power over you because the fact of the matter was, you were the one in power here, and you were going to assert it.

"Well, you know what I see?" You ask with a smug smile

"No. Tell me, what do you see?" 

Still handcuffed you lean forward in your chair looking up at where she stood right in front of you. Lowering your voice you go on to say,

"I see a woman, past her prime, deluded by a fantasy of some kind of romantic tryst with a man who never wanted her to begin with. You have led yourself so far down a path of irrationality that you have convinced yourself there was some kind of connection that was never there. He was your subordinate, nothing more. And now here you stand, grasping at straws for some sense of control and power, in the middle of a failing coup d'état of your own making, because you feel like you are losing your grip on the reality you created for yourself. A reality wrecked by the very man that you convinced yourself wanted you back."

Immediately after you finished your statement, the handler's hand snapped towards you and grabbed your face. She forced your head up to look at her and you could see the rage in her eyes. You were winning this battle. Angrily the handler replied,

"You better show me some respect. I have the power to ruin your life, take everything you love away, I could even kill you for that matter."

"I don't need to show you shit. My life has already been ruined, practically all that I love has disappeared in one way or another," You retort "and just so you know, the only way I'll ever die is if I choose to let it happen."

The handler leaned in towards you and her grip on your face tightened. You could feel her nails sink into your skin a little more. You weren't intimidated by her though. She was pathetic and wasn't worth your time. When she got close enough to you a sadistic smirk came to your face for a moment before you spit in hers. The handler whipped your head to the side as she pulled back in disgust. Wiping her face off she looks towards you in anger but you sit there with a proud smile.

"You're lucky you make good blackmail or else you'd be dead right now." she comments furiously before shouting "DOT!"

Dot quickly enters the room and the handler whips her gaze towards her.

"Take this disgusting child back to her holding cell." She commands

Dot nods her head and quietly makes her way over to you. Unlocking the one handcuff from the armrest she redoes the cuffs behind your back before helping you to stand. The two of you walk towards the door to leave the handler's office but before you do so you stop in your place. Turning to face the handler you firmly state,

"Les chaînes des oppresseurs ne durent que tant que les opprimés les laissent rester. La liberté est inévitable."

And without another word you and Dot left.

____________________________

"Well, there I am." Five stated

He and Luther had made their way over to the pub that Five knew he would be at. From behind a pillar the two of them spied on older looking but younger self. Five remembered this day perfectly. He had sat over at the bar trying to perfect the equation to jump forward to 2019. He thought about you a lot, wondering how you would feel about him coming back, if you would be upset with him...if he'd get the opportunity to confess his feelings even though it probably would go nowhere. 

What a sad mess of a man. 

"Hey Five, why don't we just grab the briefcase and run?" Luther questioned "Luther, I would never let that happen. We're trained to guard these briefcases with our lives." Five explained "Plus, it's the inherent paradox where this gets tricky. I'm endangering my existence just being in the room with myself."

"Huh...What do you mean?" Luther asked confused

God, how dense was he? Did Five really have to spell it out for his brother? Letting out an exasperated sigh, Five elaborated,

"Luther, try to keep up. If old me doesn't travel back to 2019 like he's supposed to, the whole thing unravels itself. I cease to exist. You got me?" "I get you," Luther responds

Five was not confident though that Luther actually got him. "So our best chance is to talk with him, to reason with him." Five continues "He'll understand. Trust me. I know myself better than, uh...better than I know myself."

Unconsciously, Five reaches back and scratches the back of his neck causing Luther to quietly exclaim, "You just itched your neck. That's stage two of paradox psychosis."

"No, I didn't. I didn't itch my neck." Five denies "Denial is stage one." Luther reminds

Five was not going to deal with this back and forth. He was fine. Completely and utterly fine. Nothing was wrong at all and no paradox psychosis was setting in. He was good. Snapping at his brother he states, "I am fine, okay? Let's stay on task, shall we?"

Five attempts to start walking over to his commission self but Luther puts an arm out to stop him. "Wait!" Luther says "What?" Five questions

"Maybe I should go first."  "Why?"

"Well, you'll freak him out. Bumping into your own tiny doppelganger? He will lose his shit. Just let me break the ice." Luther suggests

Five thought about it for a second and realized Luther was right. It might be better to send him in, although now he was wishing he had you here because you would probably be the best option to reason with him. But then again, he could see himself freaking out even more because your presence in 1963 meant something very wrong happened. Well, at least he still had the blackmail option. Five nods to his brother and Luther slowly makes his way over to commission Five. Luther awkward leans on the bar next to him and calls,

"Five."

Commission Five registered the word the person had just said to him but wasn't sure if he was hearing him correctly. Looking up at the person he sees a giant man standing there. Looking him up and down he asks, "What'd you call me, big man?" "It's me. Number One?" Luther replies "Luther. How did you...?" Commission Five questions as he starts to reach down towards the briefcase at his feet

"It's okay. Everything is fine. I can explain. But first, I need to introduce you to somebody. Just promise me you won't freak out." Luther tries to calm "What the hell are you talking about?" Five replies with wide eyes

"Uh! Don't freak out. No freak-outs. All right?" "Hey there, stranger." Academy Five greeted

The two of them stare quietly at each other. This was the worst of situations and both of them knew it but what was more important was making sure they were the one to possess the briefcase.

"How about we all sit down together?" Luther suggests 

Commission Five leans down and grabs the briefcase as Academy Five continues to stare at him. Cautiously the two of them walk over to a nearby table that Luther has found available. Slowly the Five's sit down across from each other, their staring contest continuing on.

"I'll get us some drinks!" Luther exclaims walking over to the bar

Neither of them said a word to their other and tension loomed in the air. Neither knew if it was due to the paradox psychosis or just the fact that they both had to look at a reflection of their and future failures. Either way, it was an undesirable experience. After a minute, Luther comes back with three pints of beer in hand. Placing one in front of each person at the table he takes a seat and comments,

"Well...this is nice, isn't it? The three of us, together like this." "No." Both Fives say in unison "Somebody explain to me how it is I'm having a pint of Guinness with my younger self." Commission Five inquired

"Older, actually. I'm you, just 14 days older." Academy Five states

Commission Five leans in more as he remarks, "I have pubic hair smarter than you. How's that possible?"

"I can explain. You see, one hour from now, on the grassy knoll, before the president is killed, you break your contract with the Commission. I already know you're thinking about it. All those years in the apocalypse, we never stopped worrying about our family" Five explains taking a pause before continuing "About (Y/N)."

Luther looks between the two Fives confused. They worried about the family? It was understandable that they worried about you but the family too? Surprising. Commission Five's eyes glaze over for a second and he looks off in the distance as his teen counterpart's words resonate in his mind. He did worry about his family but mainly he worried for you. The image of that first day in the apocalypse never left him no matter how many years had passed. It was seared into his memory and haunted his nightmares. Coming back into focus, Five leans in and replies in a low voice, 

"Of course. Why wouldn't I worry about her? You know what happened." "I do know what happened and preventing that outcome is the most important thing. So today, you are going to do something about it. Today, you are going to attempt to time travel forward to 2019. However, you are going to mess up the calculations, screw up the jump, and end up in this younger body." Academy Five explains

"Okay. So what am I supposed to do about it, not jump?" Commission Five asks

"No, no. I need you to jump. If you don't jump, I cease to exist and there is someone in this timeline who would not be happy about that." Academy Five states firmly

Commission Five's eyes go wide. Instinctively, his hand and covers the part where his locket rested. Were you here in 1963 as well? His heart raced a little and he excitedly questioned,

"You mean-"

"Yes." Academy Five answered

"...What's she like?" Commission Five asked in awe at the thought of you being around

"Ethereal." "I'm listening. Go on." Commission Five pressed

This is exactly why Five was fine with you not being here. Now he had bargaining power against his former self. The pathetic man was desperate for any crumb of knowledge about you. An unfriendly smile came to Academy Five's face as he explained his offer,

"I'll be glad to tell you more in exchange for that briefcase you're holding under the table. And I'll even give you the right equation for this time if you want it."

Commission Five looked back at his teen-looking self without saying any words. Taking the opportunity to speak Luther re-explained, "Yeah, yeah, so you go back to 2019, as planned, see (Y/N) and this time with the right math, so you can remain a full-grown man. In exchange, we get that briefcase that you no longer need. Timeline restored, paradox resolved. Everyone goes on existing happily ever after." "That's quite a bit to take in." Commission Five commented

"What do you think?" Academy Five asked "I think...I need to piss." Commission Five responded

He then got up from the table, grabbing the briefcase from the floor below him, and made his way to the bathroom. Academy Five watched with wide eyes as he walked away from the table. Grabbing a napkin, Luther began to dab the sweat off of Five's face commenting, "Well, besides the flop sweat, I think that went pretty well." "No, there's something- something doesn't feel right about this." Five remarked

"What do you mean?" Luther questioned "I don't trust him." Five stated "But he's you," Luther replied confused "Exactly." 

Luther slowly nodded his head. The psychosis looked like it was really starting to pick up in Five. Luther hoped they would be able to get the briefcase soon so that Five didn't get worse. Downing the rest of his pint, Luther turns to Five and explains,

"Well, I need to go take a piss as well, and maybe as your spotter, I can reason with him a bit, alright? Just wait here."

Five watches as Luther gets up and walks away. He could only hope that things would all work out the way they should.

____________________________

As you and Dot quietly walked down the hallway you whispered to her,

"What's this phase two that you have in mind?"

You watch as Dot looks around for a second to make sure no one in the hallway was paying attention before pulling you into a side corridor. She takes one more glance around the surroundings before whispering to you,

"The resistance is going to get a briefcase so you can escape back to 1963, but to get to the briefcase room unnoticed, we'll need a distraction."

"Ah, I see where is going. You want me to cause the distraction."

"Yes." Dot replies "If you can draw enough security away from the briefcase room we can slip in and get one so that you can get out of here."

You nod your head as you phase your wrists through the handcuffs so you can have your arms free again. Looking back to her you state,

"I'm not leaving without Diego."

"Don't worry, I talked to Herb, another member of the resistance in the hall, and he said he was going to retrieve him." She reassures

"Good." You respond before asking "Where should I meet you?"

"Storage closet 2. It's on the east side of the building across from the period clothing department."

You peer around the corner of the corridor and look out into the hallway to see who was there. It was relatively empty with only a few people passing by. As you keep watch you ask Dot,

"Is the briefcase room to the left or right?"

"The right. Why?" She questions

"No time for questions. Just trust me. I'll see you soon." You respond

And before she can say anything else, you turn yourself invisible and sprint off to the left down the hall. Dodging the people who were walking by, you looked for some room that seemed important. As you searched, you passed the handler's office doors. Stopping in your tracks and backing up you look at the double doors for a second. A mischievous smile comes to your face as you take each hand and place them on the door handles. You heat the molecules of the handles and the lock inside of the door so that they all start to melt before quickly cooling it all down. With the handles and lock all now one solid amalgamation you knew that she would be locked in there for a bit. Turning back around you continue running off down the hall searching for a room that seemed important until you found one. Looking at the sign that said Tube Room you decided to investigate more. Phasing through the wall you entered the room and saw a line of different tubes spread down the length of a hall. Taking a look around to see that no one was there, you drop your invisibility and prepare for the mother of all distractions. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and focused on the molecules around you in this room. Specifically, that of the tubes that lined the walls Shooting your eyes back open you took off running down the hall of tubes, blowing each one behind you up as you passed them by. You could feel the pulsing of the explosions and the heat from the leftover flames as you continued to move forward down the hall. As you reached the end of the hall, you ran through the wall to the other side hearing the sound of the last explosion resonate behind you. You stopped for a moment to brush yourself off when you heard over the PA system,

"Security to the tube room. Security to the tube room."

"I better get out of here." You say to yourself

You look around for any sign that would point you in the direction of the east side of the building. You should've asked for more directions from Dot, but you were all too excited to start bringing this organization to its knees. Down the hall, you see a sign with an arrow on it pointing towards the period clothing department. 

"Bingo," you exclaim

You start to quickly make your way towards the sign when you hear someone from behind you yell,

"Stop right there!"

Looking back you saw a significant amount of people in blue suits pointing guns at you. You were about to run away when you looked forward and saw another similar-looking group on the other side of the hall.

"Shit."

You were trapped. Granted, you weren't really trapped, you could just use your powers to sneak out of this situation but you had no clue if Dot was able to get a briefcase yet. Was this all the security they had or was there more scattered around? Dot had mentioned that Five blew up the briefcase room the last time he was here, so they had to have had more security for it. Security that you needed to draw to here.

"If you wanna stop me you're gonna have to kill me!" You announced

Guns drawn, the guards started to come towards you. You kept calm though and waited patiently for the first line of security to get close enough. If you were going to cause a distraction then hell you were going to make it unforgettable. Slowly, the 12 guards inched closer and closer until they were just where you wanted them. As this first line flanked you on all sides you gave them a wicked smile and within a second a boom rang throughout the hallway. It was all calm for a moment and then...chunks of flesh and blood rained down over the hall. There was nothing left where those 12 guards had stood, and at that moment it became clear that you were not trapped with these guards. They were trapped with you. You were Persephone, the bringer of destruction, and the chaos had only just begun. 

Pulling out two of your knives you watched as more guards started showing up to try and stop you. You could feel the adrenaline you had injected coursing through your veins. This is where the fun begins. Realizing what you had just done the guards start to rush in. One by one you started to take them down. It was like you were moving in slow motion as you fought the crowd around you. Your movements becoming less so fighting maneuvers and more of a rhythmic dance. In a focused daze, you made your way around slashing throats and melting brains of all those who charged at you. With their guns drawn, they sent shots your way but it did not matter because all the bullets did was go through you and hit other guards. You watched the blood and the shit spray as swathes of agents dropped to the floor dead. The lucky ones were shot or blown to bits while the less fortunate dealt with the pain of slowly burning to death or being tossed back and forth between the walls like useless playthings. You bathed in the sounds of their agony. They all were going to suffer the way they made your darling Five do for years. And like the Roman empire, they fell to their demise. 

When the combat had stopped you came out of your trance. Catching your breath you looked around at the bloodbath you created. The once white marble floors were now stained with rivers of red. You were victorious in your battle, and like the Queen of Hell, your destruction reigned over this place. You turned to walk away and head towards the storage closet when the sound of a gun rang out and pain came to your arm. You looked down and saw that a bullet had grazed your forearm leaving behind a wound. Your head shot back in anger to see where the shot hand came from. One guard was still alive, paralyzed from the waist down but still alive. You made your way towards them and they tried to shoot again but they were all out of bullets. Slowly, you crouched down to them on the floor, your eyes ignited with flames and you said in a low tone,

"You missed."

Reaching into their chest you ripped out their heart and crushed it in front of them. You watched as the light quickly slipped from your eyes. Letting out a huff you placed two fingers over your wound and used your powers to cauterize it. You were done here and made your way towards the rendezvous point. As you walked that way the adrenaline started to wear off and you started to fully realize what had gone down. Urgency set in as you saw the blood you were covered in and realized you need to get out of here. Finally seeing the clothing department you ran into it real quick and changed clothes, using some scrap cloths and a water bottle you found to wipe the blood off of you. You then raced across the hall to storage closet 2 where Dot, Diego and a group of other people were all standing around.

"Hey everyone," You say frantically "We need to get out of here fast because I'm pretty sure I just committed a war crime."

"Oh, uh okay. Well, unfortunately, we couldn't grab a fully functioning briefcase in time because people came back to protect the briefcase room," Herb explains

"But, we still got one!" Dot explains positively "It just happens to be a one-way case. They become useless after one time jump."

"We've already set it up with the correct time and location. Halfway between FBI headquarters and the pub where Five is located." Herb adds "Here are some maps to show you how to get to those places."

You and Diego both reach out and grab a map.

"Thank you." You reply quickly

Diego turns to look at you,

"Ready to go, kiddo?"

You nodded your head quickly at him. Diego took the briefcase in one hand and wrapped his other arm around you tightly. Herb stepped forward and pushed a few buttons before stepping back you could feel the energy from the case start to grow as you tried to manage your breathing. Giving the group of people before you one last look, you say,

"Vive la résistance."

Almost immediately after there was a flash and now you stood with your brother in the middle of Dallas, back in 1963. You watched as the briefcase started smoking and making unpleasant clanking sounds. Finding a nearby dumpster, Diego threw the defunct briefcase away before coming back over to you and pulling out his map trying to figure out the path to the FBI building. It wasn't far from where you stood but every second spent standing around was another second closer to Vanya ending the world...again. Looking up from his map he looked towards you. You silently looked back at him and waited for him to say something. You could tell something was on his mind. Diego was torn. He wanted to bring you with him to the FBI headquarters so he knew where you were and didn't have to worry that you had been taken by Lila again but he didn't want to put in danger of what Vanya was doing. The last time Vanya strongly used her powers you were seriously injured and putting you right in harm's way of that was something he would never choose. Diego came to a decision in his head. It was going to take a lot to say this but Diego knew it was the best option.

"Go find Five. He'll keep you safe."

You were surprised by his statement. Diego had been very back and forth on you being with Five since every before Five came back, although he would never admit it.  But this plus the comment from earlier were the strongest confirmations that maybe just maybe, Diego was coming around. Although his comments gave you reason to celebrate, this was not really the time and you were also very worried about him. You didn't want to be separated from your brother especially if he was headed to stop Vanya.

"Will you be okay?" You questioned

"I'll be fine." Diego responds "Now go get to Five. He can protect you from the commission more than I can."

Instead of saying any words you just took a step forward and hugged your brother. It was brief because time was of the essence but it was enough to reassure both him and yourself that things would be alright. You pulled away from Diego and the two of you gave each other knowing nods before turning in opposite directions and running towards your respective destinations. Using your powers you made yourself lighter so that you could move faster. You had no clue if the commission was after you. You wouldn't be surprised given you had pissed off both Lila and her mom, the handler. It didn't take you long to see the pub marked on your map up ahead. You slowed your pace as you made your way to the door and calmly entered the establishment. You looked around for a second before spotting a familiar uniformed boy, sitting alone at a table. You walked over to the table he was at and called,

"Five."

His head snaps over to you. His eyes were wide and his face was covered in sweat. You were taken aback by how frantic and unwell he looked. You cupped his face in your hands and felt the warmth radiating off of his skin. As you tried to cool down the water molecules in the sweat on his face you said,

"Oh my god, are you feeling okay darling? You look awful."

Five quietly stood up as you still held his face in your hands. He appreciated you using your powers to try and cool him down but he was confused as to what you were doing here.

"How did you find me?" He asked

"I'm fine." you instinctively responded 

"That's not the question I asked." Five states "Also are these new clothes?"

"Listen, the specifics of the situation don't matter too much right now but I promise I will tell you later. What's the plan?" You inquired

"I- I don't know." Five states scratching the back of his neck "I'm still working on it."

"Don't worry, it's going to be okay." you comforted as you brought him into a hug "We'll figure this out together."

Five wrapped his arms back around you and held you tightly. IF he was experiencing any paradox psychosis, at that moment it melted away for a bit. Just you being with him gave him a sense of calm even though the world around him was anything but that. He just hoped that this calm would last even after Luther had returned.

As Luther had walked into the bathroom a few moments earlier, he sees Commission Five standing in front of the sink looking at the glass eye that would belong to the future, Harold Jenkins. Walking over to the urinals he comments to Five,

"Yeah, that's a waste of time. Trust me."

A waste of time? It was one of the only clues he had. How could it be a waste of time? "Then why were you holding it when I found you dead in the apocalypse?" Five questioned

"No idea. But the guy it belonged to didn't end the world. Vanya did." Luther stated "Timid little Vanya?" Five asked confused

"Yep. Is more powerful than all of us put together. Turns out, she was pissed about the way we treated her when we were kids, so she destroyed the moon and ended the world."

"Fair enough." Five said nodding his head "This is perfect. We now know exactly what's gonna happen."

"Yeah, except it, uh, already did," Luther replies approaching Five

Five turns to him with plenty of new ideas rushing through his mind. Not only how to stop the apocalypse and get this version of Five to disappear. He was unnecessary. "Don't think, just listen. Forget about the little jerk-off's plan. It's way too complicated. A much better plan is for us to travel to 2019. All we have to do is make nice with Vanya, stop her from destroying the world. Easy-peasy." Five explains "Hmm. Well, that's actually...that's not bad." Luther responds "But what about Five? I mean, you? I mean, the, uh, young you."

"That's not me. That's a teenaged hormonal photocopy that got botched in the time jump. Besides, it's too late for him anyway." Five states

"Too late? Paradox psychosis?" Luther inquires

Five nods his head, answering, "Best thing we can do is put him out of his misery." "You're saying to kill him?"

"You're thinking about this all wrong. We're not killing anybody." Five elaborates "Look at me. I'm Five, and I will still be alive. All we are doing is getting rid of a mutant doppelganger."

"Are you sure you don't have paradox psychosis?" Luther questions concerned "I've never felt better in my life." Five states

I just don't know Five..." Luther responds warily "(Y/N) wouldn't be very happy to know her boyfriend is gone from existence."

Commission Five stopped in his place. His head slowly turned back to look at Luther who had an innocent yet conflicted look on his face.

"Boyfriend?" He questioned surprised

"Yeah. Boyfriend." Luther responds "But like I was saying, I don't know about getting rid of him, this would be like the third time she's lost him- you...y'all? And she's really powerful and she almost killed me once for insulting Diego, and you remember the bank she blew that guy's head clean off. I just don't feel like it's the best idea to rip that Five away from her..."

Commission Five hadn't listened to a word Luther had said though because once the word boyfriend had slipped from Luther's mouth his heart began to race. If that version was her boyfriend that meant she loved him too. No. That would be insane. Maybe Luther said the words too fast and so he said boyfriend when he meant boy friend. There was no way that she felt the same way he did. Could she? Did she love him this whole time? Did she die loving him the same way he loved her? No, they were just friends. Just...friends. Five wanted to believe that what Luther was saying was true and that she did love him enough to have him be her boyfriend but it just didn't add up in his mind. How could she love someone who abandoned her in a different time, who took everything she knew away from her and left her wondering till the day she died if her best friend was mad at her. It was impossible though. Five looks up towards Luther who still towered over him like he did when they were kids.

"The little prick out there won't tell me jack about her." Five complains before asking quietly "What's she like Luther?"

"Well...I haven't been around her much but uh she's very powerful, more so than when we were kids. Uh, I mean she definitely cares about the people she loves, and um apparently she was dad's favorite both in 2019 and this timeline."

"That makes sense. When I read her diary she wrote about a lot of the things he did for her. Was too much to be coincidental." 

"Wait what? He did stuff for her?" Luther questions

"Doesn't matter. So she's here? In this timeline?" Five inquires

"Uh- I don't know where but yeah," Luther responds

Five nods his head. 

"Alright well, let's head out then." Five comments

As the two of them open the men's bathroom door and exit both of them see a sight they didn't know would be there. Five froze in place and his jaw dropped as he looked ahead of him.

"Oh look, there she is!" Luther commented

He was right. There you stood. Alive. Five could feel his heart stop and he didn't know if he was breathing anymore as he stared off at you. The world faded away as his focus became you and only you. Five could feel his heart clench as he remembered the last time he saw you alive. It was 45 years ago, right before you died. He remembered cradling you in his arms, blood getting on his academy uniform as he cried over your dead body. Tears pricked his eyes as he took all of you in. You were smiling, moving, breathing and to him, that was a miracle. He could only see the side of your face but the little shit was right, you were ethereal. As the world came back into focus he noticed you wrapped in the arms of his teenage counterpart. He saw the gentle look in his counterpart's eyes as your hands wrapped around his neck bringing him into a hug. Five wanted a hug from you, it had been so long since he had gotten one. As Five stood there, he felt Luther nudge his arm. Turning his attention to him, Luther says,

"Alright lover boy, time to get your head out of the clouds and go interact with the love of your life for the first time in years."

"Ah well, no...we're just- I mean..." Five stutters

"Oh, we're just best friends. Don't give me that shit you openly yelled about how you loved her when we were 12." Luther ridicules "Now c'mon let's go."

Luther starts to push Commission Five forwards back towards the table and Commission Five's heart begins to race with every step closer. As Academy Five noticed Commission Five head back towards the table he held you tighter to him. His face contorted into a scowl as he looked at this version of his approach towards you. He could see the look on his face, one of nervousness and awe. Academy Five didn't like it one bit and if it wasn't for you hugging him he felt like he would've punched the old man right where he stood. You felt as Five tensed up in the hug and pulled back to look at him. looking up at his face you saw it was filled with anger but couldn't begin to decipher why. You followed his gaze to see what had angered him so and when you looked behind you, you saw Luther standing there with an older gentleman. You looked back towards your boyfriend whose face was still filled with rage and asked,

"Five, who is this?"

Five stared the man down and let out a huff before replying,

"He's me."

________________________________

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[etherealvibespls]

till the stars fall out of the sky

Hi. It's been almost two years but I hope you enjoy this short + messy krii7y piece :)

--

The thing about it being the end of the world is how little time there is to prepare. No matter how many people seem ready with their canned foods and underground bunkers, or even the discarded pamphlets scattered throughout the streets filled with government advice as if, maybe, those in power had an idea of what was to come, no one is actually prepared for what they’re faced with; the end of everything.

And it’s terrifying.

Smitty had so many plans. A few weeks ago those plans held some dread, had his heart skipping at just the mere idea of change, and yet now his heart only aches.

In front of him the website mocks him. The screen is dim to preserve the little battery he has left in his laptop, but the floor plan of the apartment is still too bright, painting a pointless fantasy for his eyes to gaze longingly at.

He should have moved by now, but his fear kept him back. Rooted him in what he’s familiar with.

Now it’s too late.

A quiet ding snaps him out of his haze and the second his eyes settle on the notification the knot in his chest loosens, smoothed out by the person miles and miles away.

John (10:02): so it turns out the world really is ending

Smitty snorts. To his embarrassment, there’s already a smile stretching across his face.

Smitty (10:03): you’re just now realizing?

John (10:03): i mean can you blame me? how was i supposed to know all those youtube videos were real? but today i actually left the house for the first time in like, two weeks and it looks like i’m in hell

John (10:04): at first i thought i was dead because what the fuck, right? the sky is fucking red, but then i saw someone walking their dog as if it were normal so now i’m assuming this is what everyone’s been talking about

Smitty (10:04): have i ever told you i hate you

John (10:05): uh hello? what the fuck

Smitty (10:05): i’ve been stressed out of my fucking mind and you’ve been clueless this entire time?? go fuck yourself john. like actually take that dildo you thought i forgot about and fuck. off.

John (10:06): HELLO ? you said you’d never bring that up

Smitty (10:07): the world is ending dickhead. i’m allowed to embarrass you one last time

Smitty bites at the inside of his cheek, suppressing the urge to laugh as he waits for his friend’s response. It takes longer for John to reply this time but he’s probably writing a paragraph that makes absolutely no sense and only serves to insult Smitty whichever way he can.

After a quiet minute, John finally responds.

John (10:08): don’t say that

Smitty blinks, not expecting such a short reply.

Smitty (10:08): don’t say what?

Half of him is still expecting this to lead into a snarky remark and he prepares for John’s little ha-ha, got you, but by John’s next message, it’s clear he’s no longer joking.

In an instant, the mood has not only shifted into something serious, but into pure heartbreak as well.

John (10:09): “one last time”

John (10:09): it makes it sound like you’ve already lost hope

Smitty (10:09): john…there’s nothing left for us. they’ve done all they can but there’s no fixing something so completely destroyed, and at some point you just have to accept that it’s over

John (10:10): this isn’t the end

A pause.

John (10:10): i still haven’t met you yet

Smitty releases a long, shaky breath. He’s tried so hard to not think of the mistake he made those weeks ago, yet it seems like there’s always something to remind him of it.

It’s possible John isn’t even mentioning it now, but Smitty is so consumed by guilt that his mind wanders there regardless. The end of the world hanging over everyone’s head has only made it worse, dug it up again and shoved it into his every waking thought, constantly reminding him of what could’ve been.

Mocking the opportunity he ruined.

Smitty (10:12): i’m sorry. i should be there.

John (10:12): you don’t have to keep apologizing, smit. you had your reasons

Smitty shakes his head in disbelief at the message, biting down hard on his lip the moment his eyes begin to burn, blinking back unshed tears.

He hates how nice John is. How even as they face down their last days on earth there isn’t a part of him that’s angry, or at the very least, disappointed.

Smitty (10:13): my reasons were selfish and stupid and it’s because of them that we have to message each other as the world literally crumbles around us

John (10:14): being alone does suck, and it would’ve been nice to have some company, but i still don’t blame you

It probably isn’t supposed to come across as tragic as it does, but Smitty’s shoulders sag with grief anyway.

Briefly his eyes flick over to the corner of his laptop, locking onto the battery life. His heart twists painfully, constricting tight as it flashes, down to its remaining minutes of life.

John (10:16): you know...i still look at it sometimes

John (10:16): it probably sounds so lame but sometimes i imagine how it would’ve been. i’m not a morning person but i think you could’ve made me one, and you hate staying up late but i think i could’ve shown you why sometimes i never fall asleep

John (10:17): i even imagine how it would’ve been decorated. like, from the pictures you’ve sent me of your place it looks so plain and i think about all the trips we’d have to go on before we could agree on some simple shit just for the living room. but i wouldn’t want you to feel bad about your taste or anything so i’d probably let you pick out a bunch of things anyway

Smitty presses his face into his shoulder for just a moment, overcome by so many emotions. A part of him can guess where this is going and his chest nearly caves in at the thought, knows why it’s happening now, of all times.

Smitty (10:19): ... i look at it everyday, imagining the same

Smitty (10:19): i was looking at it before you messaged earlier...can you believe it’s still available? how has no one else wanted it?

John (10:20): because it was always meant to be ours

Ours.

His gaze drifts back to the floor plan still on the screen, and not for the last time, he yearns. He thinks even after everything is said and done, his longing will ripple through the endless void of space.

Thinks heartache as great as his can never die, instead linger like a mournful ghost that will haunt even the brightest stars.

Smitty (10:21): i’m sorry i ruined it

John (10:22): i’m sorry i didn’t try harder

Smitty (10:22): john, none of this is your fault. it was my idea and i couldn’t even go through with it

Smitty (10:23): we had so many plans and i shattered them all because i was too scared to leave

John (10:24): but i wanted it more than i ever admitted, and instead of fighting to get you here i didn’t say anything

Smitty (10:24): i wanted this to happen more than you think, believe me. but we know how my thoughts can get, so i don’t think there was anything you could’ve said that would’ve change my mind

John (10:25): what about i love you?

Smitty startles, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t expect this. His stomach still does a silly little swoop, the butterflies that are always present when he talks with John suddenly coming to life, fluttering rapidly.

Smitty (10:25): john?

John (10:26): if the world is going to end no matter what, then fuck it right? i’ve been keeping my mouth shut for over two years and even if now is probably the worst time because i can’t see your face and my laptop is about to die, i can’t go out without telling you i’ve been in love with you for half the time i’ve known you

John (10:27): and the time before that i really, really, really liked you

Smitty chokes on his tears, stopped caring about holding them back the second he saw i love you.

Smitty (10:27): me too

Smitty (10:27): i think i’ve been in love with you since you first messaged me that stupid one-liner about artists

John (10:28): oh god, i forgot that was the first thing i sent you

John (10:28): in my defense i was extremely bored and your page was filled with memes, i thought you would’ve enjoyed it

Smitty (10:29): i fucking loved it

John (10:30): i regretted it the moment you sent me a pic of yourself for the first time, though

Smitty (10:30): what? why?

John (10:31): because you were prettiest person i’d ever seen and i hated that the first message i sent you was about dicks

Smitty laughs, the sound croaky and awful and usually he’d be embarrassed about the noise but he sits alone in his living room, completely consumed by the messages and the guy sending them.

Smitty (10:32): who would’ve known that would be the way into my heart

John (10:32): after about a week of talking to you i knew

John (10:33): i think that’s when i started falling in love

Smitty (10:33) god, i hate that we’re saying this now. i wish both of us said something sooner

John (10:34): yeah...it would’ve been nice to finally hold you, but i’m happy you finally know

John (10:34): and no matter what happens from now till...the end, i want you to know i love you

John (10:35): i always have, and i always will

i love you-

The screen flickers once before it fades to black, the battery completely drained. Smitty’s fingers hover over the keyboard, his pinky so close to hitting ‘enter’.

It takes longer than it should to register in his brain, and for a few minutes Smitty sits and stares at the screen. He blinks rapidly through his tears, can still see i love you every time he blinks but his heart beats wildly, aware of the inky darkness surrounding him and the deafening silence, no longer interrupted by the quiet dings of messages.

Like a dam finally unleashed, his tears fall at once and a sob racks through his body, forcefully pushed out of his quivering mouth. With his legs curled to his chest and his face buried in his bony knees, he cries out in anguish, fingers clutching his sweatpants like a lifeline.

He doesn’t move, stays curled in the corner of his couch long enough to see the last bits of sunrise fall over his furniture, and stays even longer to hear the shouts of panic outside his front door, aware but uncaring, of everything ending around him.

--------

Based off the prompt: “So the sky is still raining fire and meteors, and my laptop is running low on battery, but I wanted to say that I like you, a lot. Even though we haven’t ever talked in real life, if this is the end of the world then I’m really happy that I got to meet you.”

[7wanderingpaws]

Simply, your (14)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: family AU, hapkido teacher AU, PhD AU

Word count:  7K

Warnings: language

A/N:  Wow. This one was a small rollercoaster. Please let me know what you thought! I have been staring at my screen for too long today, sorry for any mistakes. ^^

tags:  @milky-baek @itsbaekhyunsbutt @luvhtears @shesdreaminginoverdose @cynthbee @jummyjammy @junmyeonnoona @littleflowercrown13 @sebootyforlife​ (if you want to be tagged/untagged please let me know!)

MASTERLIST

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 . 13

Everything felt like a dream. A very painful, unrealistic, maybe even bizarre dream that pulled you into an abyss of deep sleep. Levitating between reality and dream, you weren’t sure if the pain in your body was also something your mind brilliantly produced, but it was a small emergency bell, nonetheless. A bell that was supposed to tell you that everything that happened in the past 24 hours was very much real.

When you were brought back to consciousness, a mop of hair was what welcomed you, the owner’s forehead pressed to the mattress while his hands were cradling yours, sitting on a chair next to your bed. Was he sleeping? He seemed uncomfortable, you thought.

Looking up at the ceiling of the room, you started to feel all the discomfort your body was quickly catching up to. The tiredness as if you got run over by a truck instead of quality rest. Your head was a bit light, and the pain, especially between your legs, was slowly growing in intensity, starting with gentle throbbing.

When you finally understood why you were in the hospital, your eyes widened and looked around the room in hopes to see some small carrier that would have three babies. But there were none.

You moved around a little more before Baekhyun snapped his head up, his eyes on alert as he saw you looking at him with big, but tired eyes.

“Honey,” he whispered and stood up, leaning over you. “You’re up.” He cradled your face and you closed your eyes for a second before opening them.

“Wh-where are our babies?” you asked in a whisper as well, not trusting your voice just yet. “Why aren’t they here? How long have I been out?”

“Shh,” he let out gently, combing your hair out of your face. “The doctor told us they have to be in incubation for the time being. Don’t you remember?”

You felt tears in your eyes because the only real thing you remembered was pushing out a human. And then another one. And another one. Everything after that seemed to be a blur. “I want to see them.”

He looked worried at your words and he sat back down, your face missing the heat of his palms. “First let’s have some water, hm?” he said, giving you a small smile as he reached for the cup that was on the small table next to your bed. He helped you gulp down half of it before the nurse appeared from the corridor with a kind smile. You recognized her as the same one that declared you were ready to go to labor.

“Oh, our young triplet family,” she said in a cheerful voice which was weirdly soothing to you. If she acted like that it meant there were no problems. “I see the mother is up. I am going to check your pulse, alright?” Both you and Baekhyun nodded and she asked in between: “When did you wake up?”

“Not long ago,” answered Baekhyun. “Not even five minutes ago.”

She nodded and once the machine around your arm beeped, she looked up at you, frowning. “Aren't you feeling dizzy?”

You sighed and nodded. “Just a bit.”

“Your blood pressure is  a bit low now, for a change,” answered the nurse with an amusement, but you knew it was to lighten up your mood. You couldn’t even bother replying to that, only one thought consuming your mind: “Can I see my babies?”

Nurse looked down at you and she took a deep breath. “It’s better for you to lie down a little longer, miss, your va-“

“I want to see them now, though,” you interrupted with a weak voice and Baekhyun squeezed your hand as if asking for your attention.

“It’s better to listen to the nurse,” he advised quietly.

“You need to rest just a little longer, miss. I promise I will take you to them later-“

You had tears in your eyes again. “You took them away from me without me having a single proper glance at them,” you said, your voice raising in volume with each word. “I want to see them now. I feel good enough to see them.”

“Sweetheart, you can't walk yet,” said Baekhyun with a gentle, but resolute voice which you knew you shouldn't go against. He was running his thumb over the skin of your hand soothingly, momentarily bringing you to present and out of your little tantrum. Just momentarily, though.

“Babe, I am just fine!”

Baekhyun seemed troubled and looked up at the nurse for what you could only interpret as help.

And she did help. “Your vagina is stitched up and still healing after the surgery. You cannot walk right now.”

You gritted your teeth, angry tears spilling from the sides of your eyes. So that was the uncomfortable pain you felt down there.

“Until when,” you breathed weakly.

Baekhyun reached out his hand and ran the back of his index finger over the moisture.

“In the  morning.”

“What time is it now?”

“It’s 1am,” she said, giving you a pressed smile. “I understand it’s difficult and that you really want to see the little ones, but rest just a little bit longer and we will take you there.”

“Then how do I pee?”

“You can do it in bed,” informed the nurse as if it were good news  and pointed to a bag attached to the side of the bed you couldn’t see properly. “You are connected to this bag that will take everything you need to let out.”

Her words really hurt in a way, despite them being purely informative. How embarrassing that was. How frustrating every single thing was. You couldn’t see your babies, you couldn’t even walk and now you couldn’t even go to the toilet like a normal human.

“Can you do something with my dizziness?” you replied instead, turning your face slightly away from Baekhyun and the nurse, their gazes too heavy for you to bear. “Just something to stop it.”

“I will connect you to the IV drip,” she replied right away and you heard her write down something on the papers she was clutching to her chest now before moving to your side of the bed. “And I will come back in the morning.”

She quickly did as she said, taking your hand gently and plucking yet another injection in there, your hand and inside of your elbow now severely bruised.

Once she was out the doors, it was only the soft commotion coming from the corridors as nurses and some patients were roaming around.

You became extremely aware of Baekhyun’s touch on your hand and a couple of more tears rolled out of your eyes.

“Baby,” you heard him call silently, pleadingly.

You pressed your lips into a thin line and by now your tears were unstoppable. Humiliation and pain, all of it too much to bear and everything for him to witness.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he cooed when he saw your trembling chin and wet cheek. He was quick to stand up and lean over you to have a good look at your face. He took a gentle hold of it, making you look at him with worry. Despite you feeling and probably looking like death, he wasn’t far away, either. His face seemed a bit fallen, circles under his eyes more prominent and his hair was disheveled. He could still set your heart in a frenzy, though. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

“I can’t stand you seeing me like this,” you whispered quickly before a sob would beat you to it. “I really can’t, Baekhyun,” you said and turned your head away even though he was still holding you.

“No, sweetheart, don’t do this,” he let out. “It’s all only natural.”

You turned your head back to look at him. “It’s humiliating,” you spat a bit stronger than intended. “And I can’t even see the three small humans I struggled to bring to this world. I just-“ you squeezed your eyes shut and let out a sob as a series of crying sprees overtook you, finally all the emotions and pain catching up to you, bringing you to your lowest of low. “I am fucking stitched up down there!”

Baekhyun was looking at you sadly and like someone very troubled, for he had no idea how to console you or make the pain go away.

Of course, you were aware of it. You knew he was helpless, powerless and just overall clueless about everything that you were going through in that moment. Yet, he was the one who was receiving your punches, your frustrations that you couldn’t keep at bay. He was there to support you only for you to push him away.

“I know,” he said, whispering your name gently as he caressed your flushed cheek, hating to see you cry so heartbreakingly, and in response, his own eyes glistened with tears, “and I’m so sorry that I don’t know what you are feeling right now, but please know that I understand and I am here for you. I’m here and I’m not leaving and I don’t care how you look or what you do. This is how it is, so please don’t think like that. I love you,” he said urgently, his eyes searching for yours.

You met his, though you could barely make out any features of his because he was blurry. Likewise Baekhyun only saw your blood-shot orbs full of moisture as tears kept falling from them continuously.

Finally, after more sobbing, you longingly reached out to Baekhyun, hugging him to you and he quickly complied, hushing you gently as he hid his face in your neck and murmured words of comfort. His scent was lingering and it was the only thing that could ground you enough to calm your ragged breathing and bring you some peace to your troubled whirlwind of emotions.

“I’m scared of everything,” you admitted finally. “I’m scared. I don't want to be here, Baekhyun. I want to go back home and hide.”

“Soon, my love, soon. Let's hold on just a little bit longer. We can do this. You can do this.”

Let's. A powerful word. Baekhyun used it a lot, you took note. We. Us. Our. Let’s. Everything he said included you and him. Him and you.  It was never just one, it was either both or none. And right now, when you couldn't stand anything, he was there to remind you he was with you. It was not just you.

“I promise soon enough we will be home, in safety, just like you want it now. With our babies, as well,” he kept murmuring, his breath hot on your ear, the depth of his voice pulling you in like a lullaby.

You closed your eyes, imagining your tiny apartment with three off-springs in it that were made from pure love between you and Baekhyun.

You swallowed when Baekhyun went quiet, eventually deciding to just lie down next to you on the bed. You gratefully shimmied to the side, though you hissed in pain that shot up from between your legs. “Fuck, that hurts,” you groaned quietly, hiding your face in Baekhyun’s shoulder.

“Careful.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Baekhyun,” you whispered and he hummed in reply, making himself more comfortable. “Have you… seen them?”

He was silent for a moment before humming again. “I have, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip, fighting back the tears again. “How were they?”

“Beautiful,” he was fast to whisper back and he reached out to turn off the light on the table next to your bed, engulfing the room in darkness, the only light coming from the open doors of the room. “Fragile, but absolutely beautiful.”

Tears, once again, rolled down your cheeks and fell on Baekhyun's shirt as you silently cried and he hugged you even closer, letting you cry yourself to another deep slumber.

-

It wasn't easy to stand up, as you quickly learned later that day when the nurse came in the morning, just as promised. You felt like you were going to rip apart from sharp pain down there and your veins showed on your forehead as you fought the pain away, though to no avail.

“Can't you give her something to numb it?” asked Baekhyun in concern as he held your hand when you were standing frozen, breathing heavily before mustering up the courage to make another few steps.

“We are already giving her painkillers,” answered the nurse and squeezed your hand to show you support.

“I want to see my kids,” you said decidedly, “so I will walk to them right now, even if it means I will split open.”

Baekhyun didn't seem so convinced and he would have opposed it, but it had been almost two days and you still couldn't see them.

After a long, terrible way to the incubation, you were finally met with a wide glass that enabled you to look into the room full of small incubators that were a temporary and safe home for the new-born babies. Three of those were occupied by yours and you cried the entire time until you stood above one of them, your only son inside. His eyes were closed as he was sleeping peacefully, not making a single noise. His small hands were curled up into tiny fists and you grabbed Baekhyun's hand for support, squeezing it. He was right beside you, his eyes huge as he observed the tiny body of your son.

“You were right,” you said quietly, shakily. “Beautiful. Each of them.” And so, so fragile.

Baekhyun pressed his lips to your temple, keeping them there as he murmured. “Must be after you.”

You snorted, but didn't tear your gaze away from your baby for a single second.

You did the same to your two daughters, their pink skin reminding you how fresh and raw it still was. How incredibly fragile and weak they were. How they needed technology now more than you, for you couldn’t help them despite being their mother.

“They will be out very soon,” came a quiet voice. You looked up and saw a NICU doctor smiling at you and Baekhyun in a manner that could only be called understanding.

You nodded, not knowing what to say; or more like you wanted to have your little peace with them without interruption.

“You actually came in time,” she continued as she stepped to one of your daughters' incubators and opened it. “Unfortunately, you can’t hold them just yet but you can see how they change positions.”

You and Baekhyun looked at each other before following the doctor's hand movement. She carefully took the baby's body and turned it, making the tiny body lie on its belly.

You frowned, horrified. “Wh-why are you doing that? Isn't that going to suffocate her?”

The doctor adjusted the legs, tucking the knees towards the belly, hands next to the face. She then straightened up and closed the incubator. “These positions are the closest to how the babies would be if they are still inside your belly. They help in the growth of the baby's body.”

You were so surprised at that news that you and Baekhyun slowly walked up to your daughter’s incubator, watching her tiny body curled up, her gentle body strikingly soft.

The doctor gave you another kind smile. “Have you thought about the names yet?”

Baekhyun looked down at you, though quite surprisingly, you haven't discussed it. You didn't know their gender throughout pregnancy and after birth you were trying to recover from the small surgery and mental breakdown after mental breakdown. “Not yet,” he replied, squeezing your waist to hold you up when he noticed your tired posture. “Maybe we will go back to the room now and have a little discussion, hm?” he said, the last sentence more to you than to the doctor.

“I don’t want to leave them just yet,” you mumbled, looking up at Baekhyun with pleading eyes.

The doctor slowly worked on the other babies, while Baekhyun whispered: “You are getting tired, honey. You still need to think about your own health. How will you take care of the little ones if you don't have enough energy?”

Contemplating his words, you concluded that he was correct. But emotionally, you felt guilty for not being there for your children.

“C'mon,” he said, nudging you gently, “let's have a rest. They are better here now, sleeping anyway.”

You nodded, though it was difficult to do so.

-

“So Juna, the eldest? And Junhee, second? Jun, our little boy?” you whispered excitedly into Baekhyun's ear as the both of you were lying on the bed again, giggling to each other at various names, discussing meanings behind them.

“I think it's perfect,” he smiled, kissing your temple.

Baekhyun was keen on calling his son Jun and the names for your daughters came pretty naturally, as if it was meant to be like that.

Just before you could say something, the nurse came in rather quickly, her eyes frantic. It made you tense up immediately, Baekhyun following the lead. “Miss.”

You were already sitting up, ignoring the pain in between your legs. “What happened? Something with the babies?”

Panic overtook you almost right away until Baekhyun reached for you to stop moving, forcing you to let the nurse tell you what the problem was.

“The babies are alright, but there are some reporters asking about you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, I suppose you don't know, but you made it to the news. As you know, you gave birth to triplets naturally which is very rare these days,” she rushed to explain with a bright smile aimed at you.

Your jaw fell, going into a huge shock, not even registering Baekhyun's hand running up and down your back soothingly. He didn't seem that shocked though. He must have already known.

“They want an interview - of course, none of your personal information has been released. We, as a hospital, cannot share that kind of information, but it is up to you whether you want to talk to them or not. After all, you did something fantastic.”

You couldn't catch Baekhyun's wide, and very proud smile as he watched your awed profile.

“I don't want to talk to them, thank you,” you decided, the idea not sitting well with you. “I just- I am not interested.” You held your chest. “You got me scared. I thought something was wrong with the babies.”

“I'm so sorry.” The nurse really was apologetic. “I will communicate your decision to the PR.” She hesitated for a moment before asking kindly: “Have you perhaps decided on the names of the babies, yet?”

Baekhyun nodded happily.

-

The entire week had been a huge blur. At some point you told Baekhyun to go home, rest up, shower, change clothes and to try to have some peace but he only did it when you promised him you wouldn’t move too much.

By the end of the week you could go to the toilet but only with the help of nurse, who had to help you pee, which turned out to be a very painful experience. You would have been humiliated under normal circumstances but after giving birth and them seeing literally everything, you couldn't care less. She was very supportive of you, though, and the only thing that kept you going were the days that would bring you closer to going home together with your little ones.

Baekhyun’s friends as well as Sukyeong and Chen came to visit and you were thankful for a close connection with the outside world, the hospital room already giving you slight depression. They showed you the short news that were about you, titled as “a young woman in Seoul gives natural birth to triplets”. It made you feel proud.

Sukyeong and Chanyeol both promised to come on the day of your release to help with the move smoothly. Chanyeol had a car and Sukyeong wanted to be there for emotional support for you. Thankfulness was an understanding.

Everyone was so patient with you and your little outbursts of frustration and small emotional rollercoasters. Every time you went to NICU, your heart would die a little bit, seeing your babies in such a weak state ripping your chest apart in pain. Realizing these emotions had to be newfound motherly instincts made you cry just a little harder because- you were a mother; someone responsible for their well-being, responsible for their health and happiness.

That was why, on the final day in the hospital, you fought back your tears very hard, the sight of the doctors taking out your tiny children tattooed in your memory permanently.

Baekhyun’s best friend, Chanyeol, and you’re best friend Sukyeong, we’re both outside watching you through the big window. It was a bit comical; Chanyeol the tall man whose eyes were huge already as they were, yet they doubled in size from being emotional while Sukyeong was a little energetic ball next to him, smiling brightly, her eyes getting almost lost.

“Jun, being the last baby, still didn’t open his eyes,” explained the doctor, bringing you back to the present,  as she took him out and walked towards you and Baekhyun where you were sitting just close by on the couches they had there. “But maybe when he feels his parents…” she trailed off, sending you a soft smile.

You were already holding Juna, the eldest, and you wanted Baekhyun to take Jun, his only son. The doctor handed the tiny body to Baekhyun who cradled him to his chest with great care. Jun let out soft baby noises and Baekhyun proceeded to talk to him while the doctor tended to your middle one, Junhee.

“Hey there, little pal,” you heard a soft whisper. Seeing Juna was fast asleep on your chest, you leaned your head on Baekhyun's shoulder and watched Jun’s peaceful face. “Daddy’s got you now. You’re safe with me, buddy.”

You breathed out a soft laugh through your nose, nuzzling Baekhyun’s shoulder just when you saw two huge pairs of black eyes looking at you rather sleepily.

“Oh my god, he opened his eyes,” you whispered, watching in awe as Jun was blinking slowly, taking in the world with his eyes. His eyes focused on you before moving his eyes upwards, towards the sound of his father’s voice.

“Is little Jun seeing everything for the first time?” cooed Baekhyun gently though he couldn’t see the scene, baby’s head being tucked under his chin.

Tears welled up in your eyes and your heart broke just a little bit again. Jun was the most fragile out of the three babies. Being the last one to come out and the one who was squished far back in your tummy with his two sisters in your belly, he was deprived of the vital nutritions your body was supposed to provide him while in the womb the most. Seeing him look around with curiosity and reacting to Baekhyun’s voice - it made you emotional.

You held Juna close to you as Jun looked back to you again. Maybe you were just seeing things too early on, but he seemed to have Baekhyun’s eyes; big, soft, down-turned and delicate. 

“Hi there, little one,” you let out, pressing your lips together to keep your cries in. “Welcome.”

Baekhyun looked at you with the softest smile he ever gave you. He took notice of your tear-stained cheeks but he couldn’t comment, for his own were slowly burning up in his eyes. You looked so beautiful with tiny Juna in your arms as she slept peacefully while you were gazing at your son in his arms. Despite looking exhausted, he became breathless just a little bit. Pregnancy made you thousand times more beautiful, the pregnancy glow made you shine and bubbly and attractive and incredibly desirable. Now, after giving birth, he saw you in a completely different light - as a mother of his children, and he might have fallen in love with you all over again.

Baekhyun maneuvered Jun around carefully until he was lying in his arms and he could see his eyes. Jun looked back at his father, still blinking slowly, sleepily as he curiously took in Baekhyun’s smiling features.

“Well, hello there, big eyes,” he whispered lovingly. “Are you enjoying the view?”

You giggled quietly and sighed in content.

“I think he likes you very much, honey,” you commented, watching Jun’s stare fixed on your boyfriend.

Baekhyun cooed lovingly, completely and utterly sweeped off his feet at the sight of his son looking back at him.

Just then, the doctor approached with Junhee. You gladly opened your other arm for the third baby to join you. Junhee was awake and already taking her surroundings in.

You smiled when your eyes met, the baby silently watching you. Just like Baekhyun, you cooed though a bit quieter not to disturb sleeping Juna. Junhee’ s eyes scrunched up ever so slightly in the tiniest of smiles, though for you it felt like she had a full on grin plastered on her face. Your chest was about to combust with emotions while you noticed the doctors and nurses watching you with smiling faces.

“Is it okay if we take a picture of you? So we can hang it up here to prove that everything is possible,” asked the doctor who handed you the babies.

You and Baekhyun exchanged silent glances and nodded. You might have made history today.

The picture came out beautiful. Baekhyun leaned in to kiss your temple just when the flash blinded you.

-

When you arrived at your apartment, it was crazy silent, and smelled like home. Everything was clean and put in place which made you turn to Baekhyun with a grateful smile for you knew it was him cleaning up the apartment whenever he left the hospital to go home.

Once Sukyeong and Chanyeol left, you went to the bedroom to found it being rearranged.

The mattress you and Baekhyun usually slept on was pushed to the wall and under the window surrounded by pillows. It would have to do for the babies until you could afford to buy a more proper place for them to sleep. You and Baekhyun agreed you'd sleep on the floor on the mat right next to the bed. 

Deciding you wanted to shower and to put yourself together as much as you could with your tiredness and achiness, you placed the babies in the mattress over the length so all of them would fit. They were all sleeping anyway, so you didn’t feel too guilty for letting them be for now.

“I’ll watch out for them, you go and shower,” murmured Baekhyun as he roamed in the bag that was with you in the hospital. You nodded, already taking off your shirt that was now hanging off of you as you lost a bit of the baby bump. “Will you be alright? You want me to help?”

You turned back to him but shook your head with a smile. “I’ll be fine. You watch the babies.”

“Honey, wait,” called softly Baekhyun and stood up, walking towards your awaiting figure. Once stood in front of you, he smiled and cradled your face. “Welcome home,” he whispered before kissing you on your lips softly.

You returned the kiss that made you smile as you hugged him to you. “Thank you, Baekhyun. For everything,” you mumbled against his mouth.

-

“They are sleeping so peacefully,” whispered Baekhyun lovingly as he raised his head slightly, looking at the mattress that once used to be his and yours but now three sleeping babies were preoccupying the space. Your three babies.

You hummed, not turning around to check, because you couldn't take off your eyes of Baekhyun. His eyes were sparkling, his cheeks puffy in a gracious smile as his lip was trapped between his teeth. His hand was resting on your hip, and he gave you a couple of caresses before lowering himself back into lying position on the mattress, facing you with a smile.

“What?” he whispered again, noticing your dreamy eyes.

You shook your head lightly. “Nothing. I just love you.”

Baekhyun's smile widened, but also softened. He slid the hand that was resting on your hip over your curves and arm until he reached your cheek that he cradled gently. “And I love you,” he murmured. “I love you so much, my hero.”

You smiled at the nickname he gave you, making your eyes teary.

Beakhyun brought his face closer to yours until you felt his breath fanning your lips. “I love you,” he repeated lovingly and breathed a silent kiss on your lips. Not moving away too much, he suddenly whispered, staring into your eyes: “Marry me.”

You gasped as silently as you could, your head unconsciously moving away. “Baekh-”

Just then his hand disappeared from your face and before you knew it, he was playing with your fingers, and you felt something cold being slid on the fourth finger on your left hand. He kept looking at your shocked face. “Marry me, my hero.” Once he made sure the ring was safely on your finger, he brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your palm, then to the ringed finger. “After everything that I put you through with pregnancy-”

“It was both of us-”

“But I put you through it unexpectedly, and I thought I would lose you because of it. What you just did last week is something incredible, my love,” he murmured urgently, searching your eyes. “So grant me the pleasure to finally become your husband I wanted to be for a long time now.”

Happy tears glistened in your eyes as you were looking into Baekhyun's expecting ones. So the moment had finally come. He proposed. After everything you've been through for years and now the past 8 months and the past week... He still wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, he still loved you and he still wanted to be yours. 

Tears rolled down the bridge of your nose and you nodded eagerly. “Yes, Baekhyun,” you whispered quickly before you would choke on a sob. “Thousand times yes,” you mumbled and were already leaning in for a kiss while you noticed his eyes also glistening, but smiling happily nonetheless. He let out a quiet, but happy chuckle as he awaited for you to come close enough and he finally kissed you, intertwining his hand with yours. The one with the ring on it.

You prolonged the kiss, having missed this kind of contact with him, and you tried to kiss him as quietly as possible, the idea of all three babies up and loud scary enough to make you behave.

Before you knew it, Baekhyun wrapped his arm around your waist and brought you on his chest while he laid back on his back, your lips still connected, both of you smiling like fools.

You separated with a quiet smooch and you excitedly brought the left hand close to your face and admired the beautiful ring, the small diamonds catching faraway light even the darkness of the room. It bore certain heaviness around it, giving it a meaning; meaning that you belonged to him.

“You like it, sweetheart?” asked Baekhyun silently as he massaged your neck slowly, then twirled your hair around his finger. 

You grinned to yourself, affection and love spreading endless warmth in your heart. Turning your head, Baekhyun’s lips stretched wide at the sight of your smile. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“You’re perfect,” you sighed and lifted yourself up to hide your face in the crook of his neck. “You’re everything and more.”

He slipped his arms around your figure and hugged you tightly. “You’re talking about yourself right?”

You both laughed quietly as you enjoyed the silence, while keeping an eye on three sleeping babies next to you.

It really couldn’t get any better than that, you thought.

-

Managing three babies was... difficult. Waking up at ungodly hours was something both of you were strongly prepared for mentally until it actually started to happen and until you realized you had two breasts but three mouths to feed. As much as you tried to take care of the little ones with love and care, you were exhausted to the utmost limit and your breasts and back were hurting, let alone your neck wouldn’t cooperate with keeping your head up despite the daylight outside.

“Honey,” murmured Baekhyun one night, shaking your shoulder gently as you dozed off while feeding the last one, sitting against the wall. “I’ve got an idea.”

You couldn’t even create a coherent sentence, instead you just followed your fiancé to bed where two already fed kids were sleeping quietly.

“Just lie down on your side and put him next to you,” he navigated and helped you do so with gentle hands while making sure the baby was secured in your arms.

Once you lied down, almost immediately you were pulled harshly into the dreamland and you only vaguely could feel Baekhyun placing the baby close to your breast while holding his head up so he wouldn’t choke.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, nosing your cheek as he sighed tiredly and looked at Jun, who was now feeding. “You little rascals,” he murmured lovingly and took a glimpse at your almost unconscious figure.

It hurt him seeing you like this, yet he couldn’t stop the feeling of pride swelling in his heart. You were fighting every day without a break and you still found time to tend to him, too. All of these facts just made him realize how a woman was important in a household. She was everyone’s anchor.

And he wanted to make sure he was yours.

Once Jun was well fed, he let the baby keep sleeping while he shook you awake yet again and helped you back to your own small place next to the mattress.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice hoarse with sleep as you lied down. “I love you,” you made sure to say before letting him pull you close and finally, finally getting some very much needed sleep.

“Love you, too.”

-

“Oh, Sukyeonga,” you smiled when you opened the door, your good friend waiting on the other side with a huge and excited grin.

“Come here, mama!” she wailed and engulfed you in a huge hug that knocked the wind out of your lungs. “My beautiful friend with three!”

You chuckled and let go of her as you invited her in. “Beautiful, more like a zombie. I’m numb inside.”

She sighed as she took off her shoes and tiptoed after you with a bag dangling off her wrist. “Being a mother suits you,” she said gently, observing your features. “This is for you. A little present for two princesses and a prince.”

Taking the bag from her you saw little overall dresses in various colours and you smiled gratefully. “Thank you. This is a huge help.”

She waved her hand and peeked inside the bedroom where the babies were sleeping. “Don’t mention it. They grow very fast so the sizes are a bit bigger.” She turned back to you and both of you sat down at the small table on the floor, your already prepared tea well bred by now. You quickly poured her and yourself a small cup.

Without realizing, you felt your eyes burn with tears. “I just- it’s just hard to maintain a good life while so many threats are breathing down our necks, you know?” you said with a restricted throat and Sukyeong was fast next to you, rubbing your back in small circles. “Baekhyun is doing his best but he is literally about to end his doctoral studies and it’s very difficult for him to also lead the university’s team and whatnot.”

“Ah, dear, I know it’s difficult for the both of you. You’re still breastfeeding, right?”

You nodded, wiping your cheeks. “Yes, but I don’t know for how long I can do that,” you admitted with a stuffy nose. “When I’m finally done with the last baby, I can start over again with feeding the first… Either way, I’d love to get a job and help Baek out with meeting the deadlines but how can I-“ you choked on a sob and Sukyeong brought you to her, giving you a huge reassuring hug. “Shh. It’ll be alright. I know it’s hard. But until now the both of you have gotten through everything stronger than before. I’m sure this will also turn into your favor. You just gotta believe.”

You cried just a bit harder because your mental health was unstable and tiredness was eating you away. “Baekhyun pro-proposed,” you hiccuped on your sobs and you heard Sukyeong’s gasp as she leaned away from the hug, a look of disbelief evident on her face. “What? He proposed? For marriage?” You nodded and she sighed, a satisfied smile stretching her lips. “Finally.”

“Huh?”

“We’ve been in touch a lot,” she admitted, “he was asking for my suggestions to know if you would like the ring or not. He spent a lot of time on it. Which reminds me- show me!”

But you didn’t have to move as she grabbed your left hand and brought the hand up to her face, her gaze scrutinizing the choice of your fiancé. “That’s so pretty. We all agreed on this one. I’m glad he is a man who listens well”

“Huh?”

She giggled at your antics and let go of you to take a sip of her tea. “He asked Chanyeol and some other of his close friends, and me and Chen. We all knew but then when he planned to propose, you went into labor unexpectedly so I’m glad he was finally able to get a peace of mind. He was scared you know?”

Feeling your tears dry up on your cheeks, you quickly ran your hands over them. “Scared? Of what? Rejection?”

She nodded with a knowing smile.

You scoffed in disbelief. “I would never reject him, what was he thinking? Like he could get rid of me after making me pregnant with three kids.”

Sukyeong chuckled. “I just think,” she shrugged thoughtfully, “that he really respects you and doesn’t take you for granted. He loves you so much. He is a tough guy for sure, I wouldn't want him to kick my butt, but if there is anyone or anything that scares him, it’s you.”

You shook your head though her words were making you emotional yet again. Just then your phone beeped with an incoming message from him. You quickly leaned over the phone. 

is everything okay with the four of you? ❤️ 

did Sukyeong arrive?

“See?” Sukyeong nudged you. “It’s difficult for me not to swoon over him.”

You laughed and typed up a quick reply. You couldn’t even get jealous over her words; you might have just found yourself swooning over your fiancée as well.

Just when you were about to retort something, somebody knocked on the door. Quickly standing and rushing to grab the door, you swung it open, curious as to who could it be- except it was no one. You looked around, waiting for a few more heartbeats as if expecting someone to pop up out of nowhere but the corridor was so silent you shrugged, deciding to just close the door when your gaze fell on the floor. There was a white envelope with your name on top of it, written in an elegant font.

Frowning slightly, you crouched down, taking the letter and turning it over in your hands a few times before going back inside. Not understanding why the person didn’t leave it downstairs in the post boxes, you decided to open it right away just when Sukyeong skipped over to you, also curious at the weird delivery.

“Who is it from?”

“I have no clue and there is no name there,” you replied, deep in thought before opening the envelope.

There was only one thin paper inside, though the text on it was heavy. You skimmed it quickly over but Sukyeong was faster in understanding what the paper was about.

“What the-”

And then you gasped loudly, complete and utter shock overtaking you when you also realized what you were holding in your hand.

“Is this a freaking lotto ticket?” you asked, your hand now shaking.

“Fuck,” Sukyeong let out, covering her mouth, her eyes huge in pure shock. “One billion won?”

The paper you were holding slowly descended to the floor, your poor heart too much in shock to keep it in your grip.

The lotto ticket was on your name.

The money was yours.

You were a millionaire.

----

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[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 24

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Lan QiRen’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23

Tomorrow comes too soon, and for Wei Ying, it comes with insistent and painful flicks to his ear.

He groans, his ribs aching, his head still throbbing lightly, warning him that the amount of sleep he had gotten is nowhere within the acceptable parameters. The next flick to his ear is particularly vicious, and he tries to swat it away, his face still buried in the blankets. His toes feel cramped. Shifting them does nothing but make his ankles ache. Is he still wearing boots? Why?

A vicious slap lands on his ear, propelling him upright.

“What--“

Nie HuaiSang is sitting up in bed, his arm strapped to his chest, the other hand half-raised, as if he intends to slap him again.

“A-Sang!”

Somewhere on the other side of the bed, Jiang Cheng groans in complaint. Wei Ying can see nothing of him but one purple shoulder and a tuft of hair. HuaiSang is still pale, but it looks as if he had taken care to arrange his sleeping robes, and comb his fingers through his hair before viciously slapping Wei Ying awake.

“How do you feel?” Wei Ying asks carefully.

“How do I feel?” A-Sang says incredulously, “How do I feel?”

Uh-oh, Wei Ying thinks.

“I feel like an arrow went through my shoulder,” he hisses, “I am in pain. I feel miserable, and hungry, and extremely fucking angry. How am I supposed to get dressed?”

“How-- what?”

“How am I supposed to get dressed with this thing on my arm?” A-Sang growls.

Jiang Cheng groans in complaint again. HuaiSang snatches a pillow, and whacks him three times in quick succession.

Jiang Chen is upright almost as quickly as Wei Ying had been, his hair an unholy mess, his expression murderous.

The moment he sees HuaiSang, his expression softens, and he opens his mouth.

“Do not ask him how he feels,” Wei Ying says quickly, and gets a pillow to his face for his efforts.

“Get up!” A-Sang snaps, “Both of you. I want breakfast. I want roast duck and wild herb salad, stir-fried spinach with dried shrimp, steamed lotus root with rice, steamed buns, and I better not see any of that minced pumpkin abomination in my buns either. I want them stuffed with mutton. And where is my tea? Is this the Emperor’s palace or a QiShan winehouse? Move!”

Wei Ying scrambles off the bed. He is still within the reach of the pillow, and does not think his head would tolerate another hit. Jiang Cheng is a little slower, tangling in his own robes, and the pillow catches him on the ear.

“I want Wen Qing to give me something for pain. I want all the Imperial seamstresses in this room in less than an hour, and they best be ready to work. You--“ he points the pillow at Wei Ying, “owe me an entire closet of robes. We will settle on the number, and then I will increase it, and you will not say a single word in complaint. Understood?”

“Yes,” Wei Ying says quickly.

“And you--!” he points the pillow at Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng is finally awake, and now fully cognizant of the situation.

“Tea!” he exclaims, “Worthless servants! Where is the tea?”

And then he escapes, leaving Wei Ying all alone with furious HuaiSang who looks as if he wants to be clutching a sword instead of the pillow.

“I want a palace,” A-Sang snarls, “of my own. And thirty servants, in addition to the five I have now.”

“Done,” Wei Ying says quickly.

A-Sang’s eyes narrow, “I want a title for A-Jue.”

“Fine.”

“And a three-day banquet thrown in my honor every year, until I am old and blind.”

“Done.”

HuaiSang grunts, and puts the pillow down.

Wei Ying waits a few moments, then shuffles a little closer.

“Can I sit down now? Or do you want to hit me again?”

“You may sit,” A-Sang says graciously, “I might hit you again anyway.”

Wei Ying feels that is an acceptable risk to take, and settles down on the step below the bed, where Jiang Cheng had spent the majority of the night.

“I assume you did not catch the assassin,” HuaiSang huffs, readjusting his robes.

“No. The arrow came from the East watchtower, but the assassin was gone by the time A-Cheng got there. He left two arrows behind. Perhaps he is not as skilled as we thought.”

“I should say,” HuaiSang says scornfully, “He has done a terrible job of trying to kill you.”

Wei Ying’s throat tightens. He will have waking nightmares of that arrow shifting a little more to the right, and he will deserve each one.

HuaiSang waves a hand in front of his face, “Stop that. I am not in the mood for your self-pity right now. Do we have any new information? At all?”

Aside from the fact that someone had tried to kill him in the view of every Sect in the cultivation world? Absolutely nothing. This had definitely not been an average assassination attempt. But the way in which it differs does not offer any clues.

“They were Lan Sect arrows,” Wei Ying says.

“Hm. I am not surprised. Anything else?”

“Lan QiRen,” Wei Ying says, “showed me a note that was waiting for them at the Peach Blossom Pavilion the night they arrived. The note said that the Young Masters are in danger, and that they should leave the Immortal Mountain.”

“Interesting. Do you have the note?”

Wei Ying has been keeping it in his sleeve, and he hands it over.

HuaiSang hesitates a moment, his fingers brushing over the dry blood prints Wei Ying had left on the paper. But he does not say anything about them, unfolding the note, and frowning at the characters.

“This was written by a child,” he says, his tone surprised.

“Or someone who has never really learned how to write,” Wei Ying counters.

“If we assume it is the same person,” A-Sang muses, “it is someone who is young, uneducated, but has a fair amount of spiritual power for their age. Probably someone who lacks confidence in that power as well. If this is a disciple, they have not been one for long.”

“It could be more than one person,” Wei Ying says.

“It does not matter,” A-Sang sniffs, folding up the note, “Assassinations are my domain. Mine and A-Cheng’s. You just go do-- whatever you need to be doing.”

He tucks the note in his own sleeve, and Wei Ying knows he will likely never see it again.

“You should not even be here right now,” HuaiSang says, frowning, “Was the archery competition postponed?”

“It was canceled,” Wei Ying says, “It seemed in poor taste, considering.”

“Hm,” HuaiSang says, “You should go to YiLing today, then.”

“What? Why?”

They have been planning Wei Ying’s Great Escape to YiLing for months now. How to hide his absence from the court. How to get by the main gate. How to disguise himself properly. How to enter the Immortal Mountain again without raising an alarm. It has become a frequent subject of their drunk planning, their schemes and ideas often spiraling into fantastical nonsense the more alcohol they consumed.

Yet, Wei Ying never truly believed that these ploys would ever come to fruition.

“Because,” HuaiSang says patiently, “We need to ascertain how closely the assassin is positioned to the throne. Obviously close enough that they had access to the palaces and the Imperial servants, but not close enough to have caught wind of your competition scheme. This is a perfect opportunity. Although, it will not be the great escape we planned.”

His face scrunches up in displeasure. As the mastermind of the Great Escape, he has taken pride in planning out the minutiae, and Wei Ying knows it must irk him to have to make adjustments.

“Some people will need to know. I will need YanLi’s assistance. Is A-Lin back yet? No, never mind,” he says, before Wei Ying can even open him mouth, “I think I can do without him. But the Lan Sect will definitely need to be informed. Actually, take Lan WangJi with you, and see if you can convince Lan XiChen can tag along, as a-- chaperone of some sort.”

“Wait a moment--“ Wei Ying splutters, but A-Sang is no longer paying attention to him.

“We must be able to trust the Nie Sect, at the very least. I need to speak to my brother first; only he can decide if Nie ZongHui can be trusted with the details of the plan. What time is it? Is it still mid-morning? I hate doing things on a tight schedule, you know. This is how mistakes are made. Where is my damn tea? Did A-Cheng get lost on the way to the kitchens?”

Wei Ying opens his mouth, and A-Sang waves a hand in front of his face again.

“We should have sent a message to QiShan sooner,” he snaps, “I despise making decisions based on flimsy and insufficient information. Well? You need be ready to leave by sundown. Go, speak to the Lan Sect, then come back. Did I not just say that we do not have a lot of time? Move!”

Before Wei Ying has a chance to respond, Wen Qing is sweeping into the room, and A-Sang is slumping dramatically against the blankets.

“Wen Qing,” he whines breathlessly, “I am in agony. Absolute agony. I cannot live with this pain. The room is spinning. Is it getting darker? Oh. Oh! I think I will faint again.”

[yoongsisbae]

Content Tag Game

thank you @inkofyoongi for the tag and also bless you for the Poetica teaser I'm crying already!!! Yoongi and y/n kissing oh my heart.

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)? Harry Potter and Attack on Titan

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for? BTS

3. how long have you been writing? Writing online, I wrote HP ff when I was a preteen. Oh god it was horrible, it was a lot of silly meme worthy stuff, but that was half the fun in the HP fandom back in the day, then years later I tried to write one AOT ff and it did not do well lol, I think I maybe got two comments one of them being really mean lol and I gave up and left my story unfinished and moved on from ff (funnily enough I based a scene in one of my HOAL chapters off of it and no complaints so ha!...lol.) Then a friend bought me a dream journal, and I fell back in love with writing again after HOAL 🥰

4. on which platforms do you post your stories? I have a Wattpad and I just created an Ao3 to crosspost.

5. what is your favourite genre to write? Angst, I guess I am just a masochist.

6. are you a pantser or a planner? Well I am definitely not a planner, so I guess I'm a pantser lol. I rather just write the story instead of planning. I vaguely know the endings, the problem is most of my stories start out as dreams, and what usually happens in dreams??? That's right, you wake up BEFORE the ending. So then I have the arduous task of figuring out what else is supposed to happen lol, I feel like if I just write it out it will somehow magically come together in the end, planning is unnecessary stress I don't need lol.

7. one shot or multi-chapter? You know I really admire one shot writers, but I am just not built like that...

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion? I would say as a writer and what I also prefer reading, between 6k and 10k is the sweet spot.

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete? Handshakes of a Lifetime is almost at 55k words 👀 and I would say it's half way done?

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most? I really love writing HOAL, some of the chapters were very therapeutic to write 🥲. During the beginning chapters I was going through a lot of chronic pain and there were long stretches where I was so engrossed I forgot about the pain which if you've ever suffered from chronic illness, is like finding a raft in the middle of the ocean. But also Run Run Run made me hysterically laugh for hours (the visuals in my head are something else man), I already know I am going to have so much fun finishing that story.

11. favourite request you’ve written and why? I don’t take requests, however there have been times when I requested myself to write lol. Instead of word vomiting all over my blog and oversharing to you guys who probably do not want to listen to my ugly problems, I said, hey, why not just take all that pain and channel it into a story instead? Because that's why people follow me after all and I'm a woman of the people lol, and that's how Blue and Grey was written. It's short and simple, and it's one of my favorite stories I've ever written.

12. are there reocurring themes in your stories? Hmmm pain lol, whether it be pleasurable pain or not lol. Again, my stories start out as dreams, so they are pretty random. I do notice there's a lot of “escaping”, that might just be a dream thing idk.

13. current number of wips? HOAL, C!HOC, RRR, BV:ITS, a cross over fandom story I am so excited for and will write before the year is up (I just somehow need to become a smarter writer before then), a cute theme story I want to release on Halloween, 6 angsty one shots for each member (Namjoon's is already written), and an unnamed invasion AU story that I hope will see the light of day, but I have so many questions as to what is going on and have to figure out those answers before I post it (also I don't know know if I should add another ongoing fic and do that to myself lol)

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing? I love cliff hangers, they are just so much fun, I truly can't help myself. I also can't help putting a hopeful spin on my writing, even when I think I shouldn't, the story would be more meaningful if I didn't, but I am a hopeless romantic so sue me. And even if my stories are very fantasy driven, I try to be as realistic as possible, especially during smut scenes, I need realism, I don't like writing unrealistic sex, so sorry if it’s not that fantastical sometimes, I try to make it up in story pacing 🥲🥲.

15. a quote you like from a published story. Chapter 4 of HOAL is full of sentences I am proud of lol. "...a storm so final in its answer, it must be controlled by the Grim Reaper himself." and "...rain droplets clash against the ocean, open like umbrellas, and the sea throws back tiny gems of water." I really tried to portray that calm before the storm feeling throughout the chapter.

16. a quote from an unpublished story. Here is a part of the unnamed story, "Namjoon never came back. You take out your phone, pull up Namjoon’s number. You don’t have a pen or pencil, and you’ve never been good at memorization. But this time you have to, you must remember the ten numbers as if your life depended on it, because you’re starting to feel like it might."

17. a space for you to say something to your readers. My dreams had been haunting me for awhile until I finally said, "okay, let me just try, I'll just try to and see if this whole writing thing will work for me." Sometimes you have thoughts that you just need to scream out into the world before they consume you and the fact that people are hearing me, and being moved in even the littlest of ways by my stories lifts the pressure off my shoulders just a bit every day. A lot of my stories are anonymous love letters to people in my life, memories I want to preserve and transform into stories people can enjoy, happy and painful, for better or for worse. So to my readers, thank you for enjoying my stories, for hearing me. ❤️

I tag: @cloudteawrites @bangtangalicious @smasmashin @alpacaparkaseok @deepdarkdelights @btsaudge @koosbabygrl and any other writer who wants to share! 💕