#i wish i could churn out fics like i used to but damn am i so busy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

winetae · 3 years ago

Text

❆ ANTIFREEZE ❆

— jimin x female!reader

— smut, pwp | college!au, ballet/christmas au

— alpha/beta/omega-verse, mentions of anxiety & insecurity, mutual pining, semi-public sex, praise kink, spanking, jimin’s thighs in tights, everyone’s putting their inhuman flexibility to good use

— 11.7k

‘Don’t sleep with your dance partners.’

For three years, Jimin has followed the above rule religiously. Who knew it would take a vengeful ex, a Christmas fundraiser, and a pair of torn tights for his resolve to crumble?

↳ alternatively : Jimin participates in the school’s adaption of The Nutcracker for extra credit but doesn’t expect his new dance partner to a) be this bad at dancing and b) be this fucking cute

❆ part of the happy ho-lidays collab ❆

author’s notes | fic inspo - antifreeze by the black skirts/baek yerin. also we’re going to collectively ignore that i did 9 years of ballet bc i took way too many liberties with this fic. balanchine is rolling around in his grave.

happy holidays everyone ♡ @floralseokjin @suga-kookiemonster @sugaurora @underthejoon @btssavedmylifeblr @kpopfanfictrash

instead of a fluid, continuous story, this fic is more like several snippets of various length put together :) the jimin in this fic is gcf in helsinki/bs&t jimin !!

❆ we had wandered around the universe all alone, feeling so lonely ❆

Jimin figures out pretty early on that life is a lottery with three possible outcomes: there are good days, mediocre days, and days he wishes he could fast-forward to the next.

So the moment he rouses from sleep and realizes that it’s past his usual wake-up time, he just knows that today is going to be option number 3 - call it an omen, a gut feeling, ESP, whatever. Jimin instinctively knows he’s fucked.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” he spits out as he stares at his black phone screen in betrayal.

Bright sunlight peeks out from behind his half-closed blinds indicating that it’s well past 6 am.

“Where the hell is my charger? Damn it.”

He rolls out of bed and crouches down on the floor, hands blindly patting the space under his mattress. All he manages to unearth is a pencil and a dusty black sock he’d given up on finding weeks ago. By the time he finally locates the cursed object buried at the bottom of his dance bag and gets his phone to turn back on again, his stomach churns painfully.

The numbers on his screen don’t lie. It’s nearing noon which means he’s skipped out on two - almost three - classes. He’s never been late for class - not even once - so the mere idea of him missing his lessons has him on edge.

“Ugh.” He feels like he’s going to be sick.

Just what is he supposed to do now? Jimin tries to mentally map out his daily schedule except half of his day is now gone and he still has twice as many things to do before it’s truly over. The realization that he won’t accomplish his objectives today hits him like a ton of bricks.

“Jimin?” he hears his roommate scuffle around nervously behind his bedroom door. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He winces, realizing too late that his distress must have soured his scent. As a beta, Hoseok’s nose isn’t able to pick out the fluctuations in his emotions unless they’re on the extremity of the spectrum.

“Jimin?” Hoseok tries again, knocking on the door this time, insistent.

“I’ll be out in a sec! Just give me a minute.”

A pause, and then, “Okay, I’ll wait for you in the kitchen. Take your time.”

Jimin waits until he hears the sound of Hoseok’s footsteps disappear before breathing in deeply, trying to get his scent back under control. Over the years, he’s mastered the art of clearing his mind and keeping his pheromones in check but there are occasional cracks in his composure.

He knows some people don’t give a flying fuck about scent control and just let their emotions and scents run wild, not concerned in the least with how it’ll affect their surrounding environment. Those people being alphas, typically. Or betas whose scents are biologically too faint to be perceived by the majority of the population.

Jimin, on the other hand, doesn’t have that luxury. Spraying his pheromones everywhere is bound to attract unwanted advances - and the last thing he wants is for people to say he was asking for the attention.

Somehow, he manages to push through the nausea swimming in his belly. He applies a fresh layer of scent blocker over his scent glands just for good measure before unlocking his door.

He slinks out of his room, half-expecting Hoseok to be hovering near the door, a worried look painted on his face, but finds him in the kitchen instead.

Hoseok looks up just as he finishes throwing in a few branches of celery into the smoothie maker Jimin had gotten him two birthdays ago.

“Jimin! I’m making protein shakes. Want some?”

“No, thank you.” Jimin’s nose wrinkles in distaste. He’s seen the ingredients his roommate likes to mix together - an assortment of fruits, green vegetables, and chunks of chicken breast - and no amount of convincing would get him to drink the concoction for free.

“Your loss.” He shrugs and adds in the remaining apple slices to the blender before closing the lid.

The machine whirs to life, filling the silence with the sound of food being pulverized. During this time, Jimin debates on whether he should get his worries off his chest. He knows Hoseok won’t ask him about his problems - not for lack of care, but because he knows Jimin appreciates the space.

His consideration for Jimin’s feelings might explain how they’ve been able to remain friends for so long. Living together is comfortable because Hoseok treats him normally - no fawning, no catering to his every desire, no dictating his every move.

“You sure you don’t want some?”

Jimin tries not to gag as Hoseok pours the greenish mixture into a tall glass and pokes the top with a hot-pink colored straw. “I’ll pass.”

Maybe it’s because of his friend’s relaxed posture that he ends up blurting out everything weighing on his mind.

“It’s not a big deal,” he says once he’s done listening to Jimin’s rant.

Jimin gapes at him, eyebrows raised in protest. “Not a big deal?”

“Everyone’s missed out on class once or twice in their lives. The instructor will understand. Just tell them you were sick.” Hoseok shrugs, the picture perfect example of boyish insouciance.

Jimin envies him. He wishes he could replicate Hoseok’s easy-going demeanor and casual attitude towards life. Even back when his friend was still a college student, he’d juggled his academic duties and social life without any problems. Meanwhile, Jimin’s entire existence orbits around dance, leaving space for nothing else.

“It’ll be okay!” Hoseok grins, oblivious to his inner conflict. “You still have afternoon classes you can attend, right? I’ll drop you off!”

“Thanks.” He glances at the cat-shaped clock hanging on the wall. “I’ll go get ready, then.”

Despite having scarfed down his protein shake earlier, Hoseok insists that they stop by Angel’s Bagels on the way.

“Sometimes the thought of eating their pastrami bagel keeps me up at night.”

“You drive by here all the time,” Jimin points out, reminding him that the dance academy where he teaches beginner hip-hop is only a few blocks down from HYBE. “You could just eat here more often instead of losing sleep over a bagel.”

“No way.” Hoseok looks affronted by the suggestion. “I’m not paying full price for a menu. Makes me feel old. And besides, your student ID is still valid for a few months. We have to take full advantage of these perks while you still have them! You won’t stay young forever.”

“Yeah, okay,” he humors him.

After several minutes of searching, they finally manage to find an empty parking space tucked between a gnarly tree and the back of a nondescript building. It’s a tight fit but Hoseok is determined to make it work, “we can’t give up now, Jimin. We are not weak.”

“It’s just a bagel. We can get them at Starbucks,” Jimin tries, eyes glued to a branch that’s this close to coming into contact with the wing mirror.

“Just a bagel?! Just?”

“Forget it.” With the car’s paint job on the line, Jimin quickly abandons the suggestion, not wanting to distract his friend whilst in the middle of such a crucial moment.

“Aha!” Hoseok cheers once he parks the car successfully. “I almost deserve two bagels for the effort that took me, don’t you think?”

“You can have a bite of mine, if you want,” Jimin offers as he unbuckles his seat belt and climbs out of the car, careful not to bump the door into a wayward branch.

Hoseok’s smile widens, his row of perfectly straight teeth on show. “Two bites!”

“Two bites,” Jimin agrees easily.

When they enter Angel’s Bagels, the familiar oily smell of bacon and ham reach his nose first. It’s so strong that it momentarily eclipses the scent of the students crowding around tables and mingling by the counter as they wait for their orders to be ready.

“Damn it’s packed already,” Hoseok pouts, shoulders drooping in disappointment. “I’ll go and try to find us some seats.”

Jimin hums, casting a glance around the popular establishment. “You want the usual?”

“Yeah, thanks! And a latte. With almond milk and a shot of vanilla.” He gives Jimin a thumbs-up before pushing his way through a throng of students, on the hunt for two free seats.

Jimin goes to stand in line, gaze sweeping the menu as he tries to find a bagel that will suit his and Hoseok’s taste. Once he settles for a relatively safe option - fried egg, cream cheese and aragula - he takes out his phone to play Candy Crush while he waits for the line to move up.

He’s in the middle of a streak when the barista calls for his turn.

“What would you like today?”

“I’ll have one pastrami bagel and one egg in a hole,” he lists off, adding on the coffee orders. He flashes his student ID and the barista’s mouth falls open in surprise.

“You’re Park Jimin from the dance department?” the barista chirps as he swipes his credit card before handing it back to him. “I remember seeing you in Romeo and Juliet back in June! You’re really amazing!”

Before he can thank him, a voice behind him calls out, greasy and dripping in confidence.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Jimin hates that he recognizes the voice right away. He hates everything about his day but so far this takes the cake.

He grabs his brown bag and briskly walks away towards where a group of students are waiting for their beverages. Maybe if he ignores his pursuer, they’ll give up and leave him alone.

Of course - all of this ends up being wishful thinking.

“Hey, Park Jimin, I was talking to you.”

Maybe he’s out of karma points or perhaps his moon is in Jupiter and the stars are not in his favor. Either way, he knows in that moment that things are only going to get worse from here on out.

“What?” He look back over his shoulder and regrets it immediately.

“It’s been a while. I almost didn’t recognize you.” Ian motions at his hair. “Nice hair, it looks good.”

The compliment doesn’t even sound genuine.

“Yeah.” Jimin turns back around, fixing his phone screen like his life depends on it. He scrolls through his instragram page, scrutinizing the screen so intensely, his vision blurs at the edges.

“So...” Ian steps forward so that they’re now standing side by side. “It’s been a while. Let me buy you a coffee.”

For fuck’s sake!!!! Jimin wants to rip his hair out in frustration.

“I already ordered.”

“I was just trying to be nice,” Ian raises his hands in defense, trying to pass off as a harmless and benevolent friend. “It’s been so long since we last caught up.”

“Sorry, but no. I already have plans.”

“Then - this weekend? We can go see the new Spiderman movie.”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay, okay. Well what about next -”

“No,” he finally snaps, exasperated. “Can’t you take a hint? I’m not interested.”

Ian’s scent flares, bold and aggressive, dousing the near vicinity in cumin and sandalwood. The person behind them yelps, surprised by the sudden influx of pheromones, and backs away from the pair nervously.

Jimin doesn’t blame them - Ian’s woodsy scent is overbearing and triggers the animal fight or flight reaction within him. He doesn’t know if Ian’s doing it on purpose as an intimidation tactic or if all alphas are inherently irascible and volatile.

“This is exactly why I don’t date alphas,” he fumes, embarrassed that the scene is attracting unwanted attention. All around him, people whisper and Jimin knows from experience that by the time the sun sets, the news will have spread all over campus. “It’s astounding how you lot never take ‘no’ as an answer.”

Ian scoffs, a sneer twisting his features. “I was trying to do you a favor. You think people actually want to date stuck-up omegas like you? Fuck.”

He pushes his hair back and barks out a laugh, like he can’t believe someone of Jimin’s stature dares reject him - in public no less.

“One vanilla latte and one hazelnut cappuccino,” the barista squeaks over the Christmas carol booming through the overhead speakers, looking like he’d prefer to be anywhere but there. “F-for Jimin.”

“I should have known,” Ian mutters, laughing bitterly as Jimin walks up to fetch his order. “Of course you’d be here with someone already.”

“Ego can’t handle being turned down for the second time, huh?” Jimin smirks, ignoring his omegean instinct that tells him to lay low when confronting a hostile threat. “You gonna start crying next?”

“What’s going on here?” Hoseok finally appears and frowns, immediately taking note of the thick tension souring the air. “I thought - Oh great.”

His gaze falls upon Ian and immediately his features harden as he steps in, his body acting as a sort of human shield.

“You’re dating a beta?” Ian guffaws, contempt coating his every word. “Are you sure he can even keep up with a guy like you.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Hoseok narrows his eyes and tugs on Jimin’s sleeve. “Let’s get out of here. It fucking reeks because of him.”

Jimin follows him out but not before spiting, “dumb knotheads like you always wonder why you can’t get laid.”

He hates not having the last word, even if the desire is childish and, at times, dangerous. His mother would have advised against it but Ian’s reaction - fists clenched by his sides, teeth grinding together - makes his outburst worth it.

More than that, he despises how most alphas act like they’re entitled to everything and everyone, and that just because he’s an omega, he’s expected to bend over backwards to cater to them. Yeah...fuck that. It’s not the 1940s anymore. Jimin refuses to let himself be bullied around for reasons out of his control.

Hoseok makes Jimin walk in front of him as a precaution, like he’s afraid Ian will chase them down at any moment and attack. In all honesty, Jimin wouldn’t put such a primitive reaction past him - so he doesn’t comment on Hoseok going full feral protective.

“I’m fine,” sighs Jimin once they’re back in the car. He’s had time to get his scent back under control during their walk back.

“I’m sorry.” Hoseok stares down at the bagel Jimin hands him in regret. “I should’ve stayed with you.”

“I’m not a fucking baby,” Jimin reminds him before taking a big bite out of his bagel, chewing with more aggression than strictly necessary.

“You’re not.” Hoseok agrees and takes a tentative bite out his own. “Still...”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault - or mine. He’s just a dumb alpha.”

Hoseok snorts around a mouthful of pastrami. “True. He really gives alphas a bad rep... Thank God they’re not all like that.”

Outside the car it starts to rain.

“You bring an umbrella?”

“I don’t think I own one.”

Jimin turns to his friend, not bothering to conceal his judgemental stare. “How does one own a fanny pack and not an umbrella?”

“Hey. I don’t see you carrying around an umbrella, either.”

Jimin’s got nothing to say to that. He groans, looking out the window and hoping for a miracle.

“What a shitty day.”

“But think on the bright side!” Hoseok says mid-chew. “Your day can only go up from here!”

“Don’t jinx me. I need all the luck I can get.”

Hoseok has definitely jinxed him, Jimin thinks bitterly as he trudges up the stairs towards his professor’s office.

Although he hadn’t been scheduled to see his professor until next week’s Self Care for Professional Dancers class, he’d been intercepted in the changing rooms after Contemporary with a message from the professor asking for a meeting.

Considering how well his day is going so far, Jimin suspects the surprise rendezvous won’t be in his favor.

He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door twice before turning the doorknob.

“Jimin! Come in.”

The door shuts close behind him and at once Jimin is enveloped by the chemical scent of descenting spray. It’s still got an acidic tinge to it - a dead giveaway that it’s been freshly sprayed - and Jimin tries not to be obvious about the way he switches to breathing through his mouth instead of through his nose. He knows his professor is only following standard etiquette but Jimin’s sense of smell has always been more sensitive than the rest. Scent blockers and sprays don’t erase personal scents, at least not in their entirety.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?”

“Ah, Jimin.” Professor Jo looks up from his stack of papers and puts down his ballpoint pen. “Have a seat.”

“I’m not in trouble, am I?”

“No, not in trouble.” He clears his throat and continues, "as you know, graduation is right around the corner..."

Jimin nods, trying not to let confusion bleed through his expression of polite interest.

"And, well, I'm concerned. About you."

"About...me?” Jimin licks his lips, feeling his mouth go dry.

"Have you decided which dance company you’d like to apply for next year?"

"I'm still weighing my options.”

He answers vaguely on purpose, shifting his gaze away to focus on the snow globe placed on the desk instead. It’s the only festive decoration in the office - a ballerina with angel wings, legs split in a grand jeté.

The professor heaves a sigh and scratches his beard.

“I figured you’d say as much.” The sound of his professor’s disappointment is irksome but Jimin remains quiet. “Jimin - let me ask you this. Do you want to join a dance company?”

Jimin’s gaze snaps up, confusion marring his face.

“I don’t understand.” Frowning, he remembers to add on, “Sir.”

“You’re a spectacular dancer, Jimin. Although, I’m sure you’re already aware of it. But I can’t help but worry about you recently...”

“Is this - is this because I missed class this morning?” Jimin asks incredulously, feeling wronged.

“I was not aware of your absence this morning.” The teacher raises his brow but chooses to get back to the issue at hand. “Lately, a few of your instructors have been voicing their concern over your lack of...enthusiasm, shall we say.”

Jimin’s mind goes blank as he tries to process what has just been said. He lacks enthusiasm? Him? The words are like a slap in the face. All the hours, months, years spent training flash in front of his eyes. No one knows how much he’s sacrificed to be where he is now.

“Enthusiasm?” he parrots, voice hollow.

“Yes, enthusiasm. Passion.” Professor Jo smiles sadly, almost like he’s pitying him. “Many people drop out of our university. Why is that, do you think? As a teacher, I’ve asked myself this question many times. What could I have done to keep them on track? The answer, I realized, was not so simple. Graduating is not the final goal one must chase after. My role should be to help students hone their talents and nurture their love for the craft, not force them to adhere to academic rules and regulations.”

“I don’t quite follow.”

“Many gifted dancers develop tunnel vision,” he continues. “Most believe: ‘in order to succeed, I must be the best, no matter what it takes’. Of course, the cut-throat and competitive environment they’re thrust into fuels this mindset. Sometimes competition brings out the best in dancers - and sometimes the worst.”

“So you’re saying I’m too focused on being the best? I’m sorry, Sir, but I fail to understand how this is a negative trait. How can I improve if I don’t constantly push my limits?”

“This year, several disciplines are teaming up for our annual Christmas fundraiser. I think it will be a good opportunity for you. Not often are dancers allowed to dance just for the sake of it.”

Oh hell no. He sees where this is going and there is no way his professor is seriously suggesting he join the kiddie version of The Nutcracker. It’s not a production anyone takes seriously, for one, since the Christmas fundraiser performance is traditionally composed of freshmen who want or need more stage experience, with families and children making up the majority of the audience.

“Respectfully, Sir, I already have a performance scheduled in January.”

“I think you will manage perfectly.” Professor Jo beams. “As you might already know, HYBE’s variation of The Nutcracker is choreographed with children in mind. In short, it’s a stripped-down, kid-friendly version of the ballet we all know and love. Rehearsals are a week long and shouldn’t take up much of your time.”

Jimin opens his mouth to protest. “I’m sorry but I don’t have any incentive to do this.”

“Incentive? Well, if you really need a motive...” He hums, deep in thought. “Let’s see. Your grades in anatomy/kinesiology are a bit lacking, aren’t they? I’ll have a word with your professor. I’m sure she’ll be willing to count your participation in the fundraiser event as extra credit.”

Uh...what exactly is the correlation between The Nutcracker and kinesiology?

Jimin’s not naive; he suspects there must be ulterior reasons for his professor’s forceful suggestion.

But his suspicion is quickly buried by the sheer fatigue that’s built up over the day. He’s so fucking tired. All he wants right now is to dunk his body in a hot bath and spend the rest of the evening cuddled up on the couch binging a Netflix series.

“So? What do you think?”

His professor doesn’t seem like he’ll take ‘no’ for an answer.

Is that today’s theme? Jimin thinks, resentful. On the bright side, he muses, attempting to channel his inner-Hoseok, I’ll bring my grade average up. I’ll get to dance onstage and help a charitable cause. .

If today has taught him anything, it’s that he desperately needs to build his karma points back up. Maybe his shitty day is God’s way of telling him he needs to do better.

He drags his gaze back up and meets his professor’s inquisitive stare and tries not to rethink his decision.

“Ok. I’ll participate.”

“Wonderful! Just wait and see, Jimin. This performance might just change your life.”

❆ someday, when the sun and moon overlap, everything will become clear ❆

Pre-class warm-up is in full swing by the time you enter Studio B13.

Groups of dancers are splayed across the floor, their fingertips stretched past their toes, while others are gathered near the wall with their legs high up on the barre.

It’s not an unusual for dancers to chatter amongst themselves quietly while they warm-up their hamstrings and calves but today you can’t help but notice the room is buzzing with festive energy.

Christmas has that effect on people, you think warmly as you place your water bottle alongside the side wall. Everything about the holiday season - from the sweet smell of candy canes and pine trees to the multicolored lights that make the streets glimmer - paints your existence in bright hues of green, red, and white.

One of your friends waves you over and you go join her on the floor, legs easing into your first stretch.

“Did you hear? Park Jimin’s taking over Junho’s role,” she says, impish smile on her face, before reaching over her left foot, hips opened in a wide split.

“Jimin? Park Jimin? Which one?"

The name is too common; there are maybe six Park Jimin’s in the dance department alone. Surely she can't mean -

"Don’t play coy now! Park Jimin! Your idol. The guy whose thighs you fantasize about on the daily.”

"Wh- what do you mean?” you say at a loss for words, mouth agape with incredulity. Taken aback by the news, you forget to deny your infatuation with the school’s star dancer. “He’s really going to join? But, just - why?”

Park Jimin might as well be the dance department’s mascot; he’s front and center on every poster advertising your major, and his face is spotlighted on Hybe’s homepage website. Everyone - from fellow dancers to the dance instructors - cite him as an example to follow.

You don’t know if you’d go as far as to call him your idol but - you can’t deny the admiration you harbor. Every time you hear about his never-ending list of impressive accomplishments, you’re filled with awe and the motivation to work harder.

“Why? Who knows?” Ryujin shrugs. “Maybe he likes children?”

Seniors rarely, if ever, participate in the Christmas fundraiser projects. They’re too busy rehearsing for various performances and prepping for their graduation examination and their professional auditions to bother with the extra effort.

The idea of Park Jimin and you sharing the same stage seems too far-fetched to be true. Jimin is an accredited soloist, regularly cast in main principal roles including in the highly sought-after collaborations with renowned guest choreographers. Rumors even go as far as to say artistic directors from different dance companies show up during his performances to try to scout him.

There’s no way he’ll ever agree to join a small, no name production.

That’s what you think, anyway, before Jimin himself walks in, a dance bag slung over his shoulder.

At first you think you’re mistaken. Maybe the lack of sleep is finally getting to you and is causing you to hallucinate. You’re even willing to write it off as a trick of the light - because after all, why would someone like him participate in this ballet in the first place? Yet the harder you stare, the less room there is for misinterpretation.

Several people gasp as they also take notice of this new addition and the room gradually falls silent.

Jimin doesn’t seem to mind the attention, his features aligned into an expression of casual indifference. He props his bag against the wall - right by your water bottle!!! - and leans down to rummage through its contents like everything is perfectly normal.

“See,” Ryujin nudges her foot against yours as she switches positions. “Didn’t I tell you?”

You stare back at her, wide-eyed and momentarily incapable of coherency.

“Did he break your brain?” she snickers when you fail to reply. “He’s just another guy. You’d think he was a k-pop singer or something with the way you’re drooling.”

You quickly wipe at your mouth, ignoring the way your friend breaks out into giggles.

“He’s more than that,” you finally manage, keeping your voice down. The last thing you want is for him to mistake you for an enamored fangirl - even if that is kind of what you are. “If you’d seen him in last year’s Carmen, you’d get it. His dancing is...”

You trail off, remembering how wonder-struck you’d been as he glided across the stage. No one else had captured your attention like he had - it went beyond immaculate dance lines and powerful fouetté turns. Even now, you would give anything to rewind the hands of time just to watch his goosebumps-inducing performance for the first time again.

Ryujin looks like she’s about to tease you further when your dance instructor, Park Wootae, suddenly strides into the studio. As your attention shifts onto him, you take notice of his jovial disposition immediately.

Your fellow dancers interrupt their stretches to gather on the floor.

Instructor Wootae begins by greeting the class. “Hi everyone. I know a lot has changed since we last saw each other but I trust that you’ve all been well.”

A few dancers greet him back more or less enthusiastically. Most of them, including yourself, are waiting for him to address the elephant in the room.

“As you’re all well aware of by now, Junho has had to step down from his role as the prince for...personal reasons.”

Through the mirror’s reflection you can see some students share a grimace. You share the sentiment. The very public fight between him and Yoona had been ugly; it was the sort of drama befitting American reality TV shows.

“Thankfully, Jimin here has agreed to fill his shoes amidst his busy schedule. Why don’t you say a few words for those who might not know who you are?”

Jimin clears his throat and you take the opportunity to dare look at him head-on.

Unlike the previous times you’d caught glimpses of him from the audience seats and the stage wings, you can now clearly see his every feature - from his silver, side swept hair, to his sharp collarbones and thick thighs.

You gulp as he catches you mid-oggle, a sudden rush of embarrassment making your face heat up.

His gaze returns to the center of the room and he introduces himself, his voice steady and full of confidence.

“I’m Park Jimin, fourth year. A few of you might have seen me in Giselle, Romeo and Juliet, and Esplanade this year - to name a few works. I look forward to working with you.”

He bows and students break into applause, the instructor joining them, beaming.

“Wootae’s struck gold.” Ryujin mutters under her breath. “I suspect the turn-out this year will be crazy.”

Silently, you agree. Jimin’s name is guaranteed to attract spectators, regardless of the quality of the production. Personally, you’re more than willing to cough up money even if it’s just to see Park Jimin dance a solo with Jingle Bell Rock as the accompanying piece.

“Alright.” Wootae clasps Jimin’s shoulder in encouragement. “Today we’ll go over Act I. Tom, Junho’s understudy, will dance the role of the prince for now. Emma will be your partner for - Where is Emma?”

Silence befalls the studio as some students exchange nervous glances.

Although you’re not privy to the nitty-gritty details, you suspect the reason’s she’s walked out of the production is somehow linked to the Junho/Yoona drama. Everyone more or less knew they’d been sleeping together and they hadn’t done anything to hide their dalliance, especially when they turned up to rehearsals coated in each other’s scent.

“She - um,” Tom clears his throat. “Won’t be coming back.”

Wootae’s features turn stony. “I see.” He casts a glance around the room and calls out the name of Emma’s understudy. “Minjung will play Clara, then. We’ll rehearse from the top after a quick class warm-up.”

Minjung blanches and even you, a beta with a weak nose, can smell her discomfort from across the room. You try to send her an encouraging smile but she doesn’t catch it, mind elsewhere.

Honestly, you don’t blame her - going from a snowflake to a principal role overnight would make you terribly nervous as well.

Fauré’s Pavane starts playing as Wootae circles the floor, his eyes scanning the room. “Kira, shoulders back, tummy tucked - fix that posture. Tom get that leg up higher.”

You try to concentrate - mindful to keep your toes pointed and arms perfectly aligned - but every so often your focus is shaken, gaze flitting towards Jimin. From where you stand in the back of the second row, your view of his reflection in the mirror is far from perfect.

Wootae calls your name and it catches you completely off guard. Embarrassment burns through you as you clumsily finish your pas de chat.

“Your focus in terrible today.”

He’s right, you note duly. Now is not the time to let yourself get caught up in the excitement of Jimin joining The Nutcracker. Unlike a normal dance class, the quality of your dancing won’t just impact your grade. Being part of a ballet means that the entire performance depends on how well you do.

With that in mind, you renew your efforts, determined to not make any other mistakes. Wootae nods in your direction, the only sign of appreciation, before circling back to the front of the studio.

“Alright let’s take Act I from the top.”

The dancers move to the side of the studio as you await your cues, while Minjung gets ready. Wootae starts playing the music and everyone watches as Minjung starts the opening scene.

Even from where you’re standing, you can tell she’s terribly nervous. She stumbles through steps and misses the timing several times. Your eyes flit from her to Wootae, and back to her. The more you watch her dance, the more nervous you become; it’s almost as if her anxiety is contagious.

Wootae stops the music before her part finishes. Everyone holds their breath as they wait for him to speak.

“You don’t know the choreo, do you?”

Minjung shifts her weight from foot to foot. She knows she can’t lie.

“Being an understudy means I trust you just as much as the principal dancer to commit to the role,” he says, voice hard. “Not being great at it, I can understand because we haven’t practiced. But when you show up, I expect you to, at the very least, know the dance.”

He crosses his arm as he surveys the room. “Does anyone know the choreo?”

The silence that befalls the room is suffocating. You wring your hands together, not daring to look at your instructor.

“Has no one bothered to learn it?” he asks again, ice creeping into his words.

You don’t know what comes over you. Maybe you’ve finally lost it.

“I know it,” you squeak out, trying not to shrink in on yourself as everyone in the room turns to look at you. Everything around you is distorted and fuzzy around the edges. Your legs feel numb, sluggish, unwilling to cooperate. Even when Ryujin mouths at you from the sidelines, you can’t make out what she says. “I know... the choreography up until the middle of Act II.”

Silence. And then, “Let’s see it then.”

You make your way towards the center of the floor, all too aware of the probing stares aimed your way. The attention makes you self-conscious and distantly, you wonder why you’ve chosen today of all days to make a fool out of yourself.

“Ready?”

But when the opening notes drift from the speakers, your whole world shifts into focus and everything becomes clear once more. Nothing matters but you and the music.

❆ even if the familiar streets shine like mirrors and thin ice floats on top of the coffee you handed me, you and i won’t freeze ❆

Jimin pauses in the doorway awkwardly, hand still on the door knob.

You’re the last person he expects to see in the practice room - not that he’d expected anyone in the first place. Most of his classmates prefer to practice after hours, late into the night, rather than wake up at the ass crack of dawn to train.

Jimin likes practicing alone. It’s easier. No scents weighing down the air, no probing gazes dissecting his every move. Although he enjoys the validation that comes with the attention, sometimes it feels like he’s balanced on a tightrope, with no room for mistakes.

He contemplates finding another available room to use as he glances down to check the time on his phone. There’s an hour and a half left before his first class is scheduled to begin so if he plans on making any progress with his part, he’s better off just staying here instead of wasting his precious time searching for an unlocked, empty practice room.

Sighing, he resigns himself to sharing the studio space with you. At least, he thinks, he’ll be able to ask you about the stage blocking they hadn’t had the time to go over. In spite of yesterday’s poor demonstration, you’d been the only one who’d put in the effort to memorize all the choreography.

He drops off his ballet bag next to yours and sits down on the floor to slide on his ballet slippers.

Tchaikovsky’s music continues to play, uninterrupted, as you practice Wootae’s choreography. The tune is painfully familiar, bringing back memories of his first ever on-stage ballet performance as a vicious, nameless mouse. He huffs out a laugh, suddenly reminded of the god-awful armpit smell that he’d been forced to breathe in every time he donned the mouse headpiece.

As the music comes to an end, Jimin realizes that you haven’t acknowledged his presence yet. No hi, hello, or even a look in his direction. Either you’re too caught up in practice - or you’ve chosen to purposefully ignore him.

The second option bothers him more than he’s willing to admit.

“Oh.” You gasp as you turn around, meeting his eyes. The moment lasts for a few seconds at most, broken when you fix the floor with your gaze.

“Hi.” Jimin smiles, polite and pleased that he still has the same effect on you as yesterday.

Surprise colors your expression and your fingers fidget by your side. “H-hello.”

There’s a cute stutter in your speech. He wants to see more of it.

Instantly, he catches himself slipping. He knows he’s not supposed to desire you in any romantic way, not after he’s made it his life motto to not sleep with his dance partners.

So instead of flirting, he offers to rehearse your scenes together. Unlike most variations of The Nutcracker, Wootae’s version includes a pas de deux between the nutcracker and Clara at the end of Act I.

Throughout the hour, he tries to keep things strictly professional between the two of you. He listens and asks questions, soaks up your explanations and demonstrations, and keeps his hands to himself.

He tries. He does. But he can’t help but find it endearing when you refuse to meet his gaze. Especially when he clearly sees you sneaking peeks at his thighs when he’s not looking.

It’s harmless, he thinks, when he asks you if you want to grab coffee after dancing for an hour. Coffee can be strictly professional, right? He’s not breaking any of his rules.

He brings you to his favorite coffee shop, happy with his decision when you look around, enchanted by the holiday decorations. It’s a small, hole in the wall kind of place, not known to many people. Jimin enjoys it because he can breathe in through his nose without getting his sense of smell overloaded.

You’re humming along to Jingle Bell Rock when he decides to ask, as casually as possible, “what class do you have after this?”

“Modern II and then dance studies. I finish early today.”

“Ah... Near Horton Hall?” When you nod, he quickly adds, “what a coincidence. I have a portfolio I need to pick up near there.”

“Oh!” your eyes light up in interest and Jimin almost feels bad for lying to you. “For your senior project? Wow. I still can’t believe you signed up for the fundraiser event when you’re so busy.”

He coughs and looks away.

“Not - not that it’s a bad thing!” you hurry on to clarify, misinterpreting his awkward response. “I think it’s really cool, actually. You’re different from who I expected you to be.”

“What did you think I was going to be like?”

“I dunno.” It’s your turn to look embarrassed. “I just... You’re so talented and well-known on campus...”

“So you thought I’d be an arrogant little diva?” he can’t resist teasing.

“N-no!”

He laughs, loud and unrestrained. “I guess you weren’t really wrong. I didn’t want to participate at first but one of my professor’s convinced me to give it a try. And - well, I can’t say I regret it.”

He tries to express his feelings through a heated stare. Meeting you has made him rethink his position on so many subjects - dance, life, himself - but he doesn’t know how to convey such deep sentiment in words alone.

“Order for Jimin!” A voice interrupts his musings.

Jimin watches as you carefully take the cup of cocoa from his outstretched hand, cold fingers brushing against his own. They walk out of the coffee shop and into the cold winter air, shoulders brushing up against each other. Jimin reels in the urge to wrap you his scarf when he sees you shiver - he doesn’t know if that’s due to his omegean instinct to nurture, but the itch to just cover you up in his scent grows stronger by the minute.

“Look! A snowman.” A smile stretches across your face, making the apples of your cheeks rise and your eyes crease into half-moons.

He glances down at the tiny marshmallows floating atop the beverage. It’s a sad excuse for a snowman - the marshmallows have begun to melt, distorting the figure until it’s almost unidentifiable - but the grin that lights up your face is so infectious and precious that Jimin doesn’t have the heart to critique the candied monstrosity.

“Cute, right?”

He hums in response, his gaze flitting back to your face.

You’re cuter, he wants to profess, but the words stay stuck on the tip of his tongue. You smile up at him and Jimin gulps, hoping his inner thoughts aren’t written out plainly on his face.

Damn, he thinks, as he watches you puff up your cheeks, blowing air onto the surface of your cup. Maybe I’ve got it bad.

“... I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not even near my heat cycle.”

He’s stares at the half-empty beer in his hand and sighs, wishing he could banish all these unnecessary feelings stirring inside of him.

“You know what I think, Jimin?” Hoseok taps the side of his glass as he gathers his thoughts.

Jimin gives a half-shrug, too busy staring into the bottom his glass.

“I think this is a sign!” Hoseok says, eyes lighting up in excitement. “You haven’t been interested in anyone in years.”

“I’m not - interested.”

“Interested, down to fuck. It all means the same thing.”

“She’s my dance partner,” he protests, mouth pursed in a pout.

“Yeah, and?” Hoseok rolls his eyes. “You’re the only one I’ve seen actually follow that rule.”

“If more people followed it, I wouldn’t have gotten roped into joining the fundraiser in the first place!”

“What happened anyway?”

“Dunno, exactly.” Jimin takes another swig of beer. “I think one guy was cheating on his girlfriend with his dance partner and word somehow got out. Things got messy - as expected. None of that would have happened though if he’d kept it in his pants. Which is exactly why I should just - get over this. Not - not that there’s anything to get over.”

Hoseok is quick to point out, “you don’t have a girlfriend, though. And it’s not like you’re going to partner up with the cute ballet dancer after this one performance, am I right? Both of you are responsible adults so I don’t see the problem.”

Jimin tries not to let his friend’s advice sway him. Maybe the no-strings-attached mindset would work for someone easy-going and considerate, with nothing on his mind but a good time.

“When was the last time you even liked someone?”

“Maybe - freshman year?”

In his early college years, he’d been too inexperienced, easily influenced by sweet words and suave pick-up lines. He hadn’t realized back then that a lot of people wanted to date the idea of him. That dating Jimin came with bragging rights.

“And now someone new comes along - someone you don’t actively want to strangle every time they open their mouth - that thinks you’re so cool and talented and is a fan of your thighs -”

Jimin’s cheeks burn. He regrets telling Hoseok about you. Now his friend will never let this subject go. Lord knows how long he’d tried setting Jimin up on dates with no success.

“I just... Don’t want you to regret it, you know?” Hoseok’s grin dims, just a little. “Once you get caught up in the what-ifs, it’s hard to get out.”

What-if...?

Jimin gulps down the last of his beer and attempts to ignore how much those words shake him to the core.

❆ in the cold air that is really suffocating, your warmth soaks through my body ❆

As the week cycles on, Tuesday bleeding into Friday, the two of you fall into a stable routine. Early morning practice, then coffee, before you part ways as you continue on with your day. Each day, he finds himself more and more reluctant to leave your side, drawing out conversations just to prolong your time together.

All of this cumulates to his most ridiculous feat yet.

Inwardly, he curses at himself, upset that he’s let his mind wander off again.

It’s - unnerving. Usually as soon as the music starts, the rest of the world melts away, his universe shrinking into the size of the stage. Overdue assignments, looming deadlines, what he’s going to eat for dinner - all these things cease to matter.

But today his focus is in shambles. All throughout rehearsal, he’s felt distracted, utterly unlike himself. Even when it’s not his time to dance, his gaze always ends up following your figure, the force of your magnetic field too strong.

He blames Hoseok and his tipsy love advice for his slip in focus. His words from last night have carved themselves into his subconscious, their effect on him absolute. What if...? The words loop around in his head like a broken record player.

“Alright! Good work everyone.” Wootae claps his hands as the music comes to a stop.

The dancers on the floor catch their breath, some going to grab their water bottles for the sidelines. Jimin wipes at the sweat gathering at his hairline and resists the urge to rub at kohl-lined eyes.

“We’ve made good progress. I know this has been a challenging week with many last minute changes but - you’ve made this work. Thank you all for your hard work. For those who need reminding - we’ll meet at the theater at 3 -”

Jimin does his best to listen, he does, but he can’t resist sneaking a look in your direction. Something in him warms at the sight of your expression. You look like a child waiting to unwrap Christmas gifts, too impatient and excited to fall asleep.

He’s so enraptured by the sight, he fails to notice Wootae’s speech has ended. It’s not until the rest of the students gather their belongings and filter out of the studio that he realizes he had blanked out completely.

“ - I’ll get going then.” The friend you’re chattering with says as he nears you. She raises her brow in your direction, lips quirked into a smirk. “See you tomorrow!”

“Get home safely!”

He waits until she leaves before striking up a conversation. Honestly, Jimin feels like he’s got a schoolboy crush with the awkward and nervous way he’s acting around you.

“Dress rehearsals start tomorrow.” You break the silence after taking a generous gulp of water. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

“Why? Are you nervous?”

“Well - it is my first time dancing a solo,” you say defensively, a pout sitting on your lips.

Jimin shakes his head. “Maybe it’s easy for me to say but - don’t worry about what they’ll think. Your hard work won’t betray you.”

“Yeah.” You nod but the doubt still lingers on your face.

“I’ve seen you practice,” he insists, determined to chase away every last trace of uncertainty. “You’re good. And you have something that I lack.”

“Eh? Don’t say nonsense just to comfort me.”

“It’s true, though. Your love for dancing is different than mine.”

He trails off, wrapped up in his thoughts. After a moment of reflection, words begin to flow out of his parted mouth, unbidden.

“I think I used to be like you, once. I don’t know when that love morphed into obsession but - over the years, dance somehow became a requirement...a joyless job...the fulfillment of someone else’s expectations. The truth is, when I’m onstage, I don’t feel anything anymore.”

“Jimin...”

You’re at a loss for words, fingers twitching at your side like they’re itching to reach out and console him.

“I didn’t even notice what was missing - until I met you.”

“M-me?” you look taken aback, footsteps slowing to a halt.

Jimin hides his grin between two sips of water. He can smell the surprise in your scent, the small shift in vetiver and blackcurrant.

“You know I like you, right?”

There. He’s said it. Somehow, the confession feels liberating. The muscles in his shoulders relax, his breath evens out.

“Huh?” you splutter as your gaze meets his in stark surprise.

“I like you,” he repeats, unwavering.

He watches as his words slowly sink in and your scent lightens in response. Unlike omegas and alphas, your scent isn’t honey-sweet or overpowering in its spiciness; he can easily breathe in a lungful without feeling dizzy or nauseated.

In truth, Jimin’s never felt more attracted to a scent in his life. The breezy, fruity notes remind him of the early days of spring when flowers begin to bud.

”You like me?”

Bewildered, you can only repeat his words back.

“I like you,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Your breath catches and, briefly, you wonder if you’re caught in the tail-end of a dream, heartbeats away from waking up. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’d expected him to go back on his word and change his mind.

“If you need time, I’ll wait for you.” He brings up his hand to cup the side of your face, his touch gentle and caring. “I’m good at waiting. So take all the time you need.”

“Jimin...” You swallow, overwhelmed by his proximity. Although he’s not in costume, he hasn’t taken off his stage makeup - and the stare he levels you with - intensified by gray contacts and eyes lined with shadow and glitter - makes it hard to collect your thoughts. “I don’t need more time.”

You tilt your head, lips brushing against his inner wrist. Jimin’s eyes darken, pleased by the possessive gesture. You sniff at the air, tentative, and preen when your weak nose detects the sweet fragrance of magnolias in bloom.

“So it’s fine if I do this -”

He leans in, lips meeting yours in a tentative peck.

When you stay still, frozen, he pulls back and peruses your features for any hint of discomfort.

“It’s fine,” you say in a small voice, smiling tentatively. “More than fine.”

He wastes no time kissing you once more, his plush lips melting against your own. His other arm wraps around your waist, pressing your chests flush together, and your entire body shivers, the end of your nerves on fire.

It’s the first time someone kisses you like this - slow and sensual, like time is no longer relevant. Not that you’ve got much to compare it with - your past college hookups consisting of sloppy, half-hearted kissing in the back of bars and night clubs. They’re hazy recollections with no substance, blurry images of lips and tongues moving in clumsy coordination, void of passion and finesse.

Here, right now, it feels like your entire world is tilting on its axis. Spotlights dance behind your closed lids, tinting your existence in a kaleidoscope of colors. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers carding through Jimin’s styled hair, and pull him towards you, needing him closer still.

Jimin nudges your mouth open with his tongue, his movements relaxed and completely unhurried. You wonder how he can be so composed when you’re seconds away from combusting on the spot. Heat builds up in your core the longer he teases you with his tongue, his muscle flicking lightly against your own before running along the roof of your mouth.

Your fingers yank at the ends his hair and he relents, pulling back to stare into your eyes. It’s almost just as bad - the intensity he pins you down with makes your body burn up and your legs quake.

“So pretty for me,” he croons, thumb tracing your quivering lips. When you try to shy away from his praise, he insists, voice firm, “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, angel.”

You relax in his hold, all loose and pliant. His voice washes over you, warm and powerful.

“Let me take care of you. I’ll make you feel so good.”

The promise of danger makes your pulse accelerate. His hand cupping your cheek trails down the curvature of your neck, fingers rubbing against your swollen scent gland, and you bite back a moan.

Anyone can walk back into the studio at any moment. You’re aware of this and yet - you can’t stop now. It’s as if his touch has lit up a wildfire beneath your skin, the fire spreading far too quickly to extinguish. You don’t - you’re not exactly sure what to do, but you know you want to draw out this moment until the very end. Maybe even further than that.

“I want you.”

“Are you sure you won’t regret it?” he presses, gaze searching.

“I trust you.”

The words almost feel too slight to convey the vastness of your emotions. Thankfully, Jimin understands. His gaze softens, fond, while his hands tighten their hold around your waist.

The sensation of his hands on you is strange and familiar all at once. When you’re dancing together, his arms are a solid force you can lean and jump into with his hands supporting and guiding you into your next movement. They never slip past your waistline like they are right now.

You gasp, open-mouthed and panting as his hand traces the curves of your hip. This is - new. But definitely not unwelcome. His touch leaves you squirming in place, trails of heat blazing across your skin.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

“Of course.”

You quickly realize you might have bitten off more than you could chew when Jimin’s gaze darkens, the arousal in the air thickening. You can smell how aroused he is, the sweet scent of magnolias in bloom overwhelming, and secretly you’re happy you have than effect on him.

“Come here.”

He takes you by the wrist and leads you towards the barre near the back wall. Your eyes widen as you take in your dazed expression in the mirror’s reflection. From this close up, it’s impossible to ignore how fucked-out you look with your swollen lips and hazy eyes. You almost want to look away, embarrassed, but Jimin tuts in disapproval.

“Look how pretty you are.”

His words only inflame you further. You rub your thighs together - the movement not escaping Jimin’s intense stare.

“You like that?” he says, eyes lighting up in mischief. He lets his head rest in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the curve of your ear as he continues to croon, “My pretty angel likes getting praised, huh? You like it when I tell you how fuckin’ pretty you are?”

You bite down on your lip, refusing to moan and prove him right. Although - you’re pretty sure he’s well aware of his effect on you.

“God.” He mouths at your neck, lips dangerously close to your scent gland. “You smell so good.”

“I have a smell?” Curiosity manages to break through the cloud of lust dampening your senses. It’s your first time hearing that.

“Mhm. My nose picks up beta scents.”

“What - ah - do I smell like?”

His hands reach around to squeeze your breasts. Without the thick layering of a bra, his hands easily find your nipples, pinching them through your leotard.

“Like wild blackcurrants. Freshly picked.” He moans, lips right against you ear, and the sound goes straight to your core. “You’re soaking for me.”

“J-Jimin...” His words make you squirm.

“I want to taste you from the source.”

“In here?”

The thought of someone walking in with your leotard and tights pulled down around your knees and Jimin’s head between your thighs leaves you dizzy with desire. It’s - almost too much. You shudder as you imagine yourself half-naked with your hips canted back, and Jimin squatting behind you, tongue fucking you open with his tongue.

“Dirty girl.” Jimin grins at your through the reflection. “You get off that? I can smell how wet you got.”

“I just...” you lick your lips, feeling terribly parched. “I want you to fuck me.”

Jimin’s hand around your breasts still as he registers your words. “You know... When I pictured this moment, I didn’t expect you to be this lewd.”

“I’m sorry,” you pant. You’re not even sure why you’re apologizing. You just want Jimin’s hands back on your body. Stroking, caressing, pinching. Anything is okay with you as long as he keeps touching you.

“Sorry? For wanting my dick?” Jimin huffs out a laugh, the warm breath tickling the shell of your ear. God, you want him bad.

“Yeah.” You nod, having the decency of looking shameful. “I - I thought about you all the time. But -”

Jimin’s scent flares, pleased. Your lids flutter shut as you manage to finish your confession without dying of embarrassment.

“But?” he prompts.

“It’s just - you were so serious during practice I felt bad for thinking about you like that.”

“What did you think about? Hm? Look at me.”

He pinches your right nipple and you yelp, eyes flying open. The stare that greets you in the reflection is too intense - his expression alone looks like he can’t wait to bend you over the barre and ravish you. Not that you’d be opposed but - it’s a lot to take in. You try avoiding his heated gaze but that only provokes him into abusing your tender breasts. Each forceful squeeze and twist of his fingers are a reminder to keep eye contact as you list off your list of sins.

“Just! Ah, me riding your thigh... And... I thought about sucking you off after rehearsals. Maybe.”

Those ideas seem to excite him, too. Shivers run down his back and he presses up against you from behind, making you very aware of his erection. You gulp, excitement building as you wonder what will happen next. Any of those two ideas sound appealing but you know the only way you’ll be fully satisfied is with his cock buried deep in your pussy.

“Hm...” Jimin’s fingers trail down to your thighs, expertly stimulating the scent glands located on your inner thighs.

The moan that leaves your lips is loud. Too loud. You’re sure that if there are still students standing outside the door, they’d have heard you mewl shamelessly.

“That good, huh?” Jimin smirks, sultry and smug.

“Sh- shut up.”

“Wait until I touch your cunt.”

You gasp, another moan escaping your swollen lips. He continues rubbing, teasing, his touch so good - but not enough. Breathless, you almost want to beg for more stimulation but Jimin’s stare pins you in place.

His nails seem to catch on your tights and he looks down, intrigued. “You have a hole in your tights. A small tear.”

“Yeah.” Your brows furrow as you try to reply without stuttering. “They - um - they ripped earlier this morning. I had to put some nail polish over the tear to stop it from snagging further but - they’re basically ruined.”

“Is that so?”

Jimin raises his brow and before you can try to guess what that question even means he pinches the fabric and pulls. You watch, entranced, as the hole in your tight gets larger and larger, big enough for two fists to squeeze through. Jimin uses the opportunity to snake his hand under your tights, fingers reaching for your soaked slit. His other hand pulls your leotard to the side, giving him more room for maneuver.

“What a pretty pussy.”

You moan loudly as his fingers come into contact with your core. They swipe through the wetness that’s collected between your thighs, circling back to your clitoris in messy, nonsensical patterns.

“Shit - you’re really wet.” Jimin says, awe in his voice. “Feel that? You’re sloppy.”

He runs his digits along the seam of your pussy lips, never dipping in further. You whine, frustrated by his never-ending teasing and attempt to grind your hips on his hand, hungry with desire.

A loud slap echoes in the open space.

You jolt forward from the force of his smack, your grip around the barre tightening as you lose your balance. Jimin raises a brow at you, challenging, his right hand smoothing over the sting on your ass cheek. It’s - you can feel your juices smearing down your thigh, ruining your tights.

“Don’t take more than what I give you unless you want to be spanked.”

His other hand never leaves your pussy, fingers still running through the moisture that’s pooling between your thighs. Occasionally, he’ll take mercy on your and flick your clitoris, drawing out pleasured cries from your lips.

As this little game continues, you resign yourself to play by his rules. Even if you’re dying to get fucked by his cock, Jimin’s self-control is impressive. He doesn’t look like he’s in any hurry to get off, content with playing with you at his leisure.

Just as you’re lulled into this false sense of security, his lips twist into a smirk. He gives no prior warning before plugging one finger inside your aching pussy. And it’s enough to drive you mad - the touch filling the emptiness, but not as well as would his cock. You whimper, squeezing your walls around him, hoping he’ll give you more to satiate your hunger.

“Ah - shit. You feel so good around me. Can’t wait to have you on my cock.”

The filth that escapes his lips only heightens your arousal. His every word makes you feel feverish with desire and you nod, hoping he’ll give you what you need.

He laughs at your expression. “Yeah, you’d like it if I fed you my cock? Your little hole is so hungry. Maybe. Only if you’re good. Come on, leg up for me.”

His fingers leave your pussy and your hole clenches, feeling empty. You quickly get into the position he wants, hoping that he’ll reward your good behavior.

“Good girl. Even pointing your toes.” He chuckles, eyes bright. “I’m going to fuck you with my fingers. If you can hold this position until you orgasm, I’ll consider fucking you with my cock. How does that sound?”

Like a game from hell, you want to bite back. Your legs are stretched into a side split position. Although it’s definitely not a full split you can still feel the stretch in your muscles and you know that if Jimin starts playing with your body, you’ll have to use all of your focus just to keep your leg upright.

“You up for the challenge?”

You hesitate before nodding, catching his hungry expression in the mirror. You’re not confident you’ll win - especially since even the slightest touch is enough to make you shake all over - but you want to try.

Jimin kisses the crown of your head before his fingers return to your pussy. He doesn’t start off slowly - two fingers plunge into your hole roughly causing you to cry out as your walls flutter around the intrusion.

Obscene, wet sounds echo throughout the empty room as he fucks his fingers into your soaked cunt. You groan as you feel the strain in your muscles in you struggle to keep your leg up and your hips open.

“Jimin!” you moan brokenly, your grip around the barre tightening.

His smile widens, gaze flitting between your expression of rapture and the filthy sight of your pussy.

“You’re doing so good, angel.” He presses open-mouthed kisses into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your scent gland. “Just a little more and you’ll cum for me, right?”

You can do nothing but moan as he picks up the pace, wetness dripping down his hand. It’s taking everything in you not to buck your hips in time with his thrusts, your every thought consumed by the pressing need to cum. His fingers just feel too good. Jimin definitely knows what he’s doing; his fingers aren’t aimlessly poking around. He rubs his digits against your walls, brushing up against you sweet spot. Not every time - but enough to keep you on edge.

Your mind goes hazy, lost in the pleasure, and your grip around the bar starts to slip. Your left leg shakes from the strain of holding it in position.

“Careful now,” Jimin says but thumbs your clitoris, watching in delight as you slowly start to fall apart for him. “I can feel you tighten.”

“Let me cum, please. Ah!”

“No one’s stopping you. Go on, then. Cum.”

He removes his fingers from your walls and focuses all of his skills on your clitoris, rubbing hard and fast. His movements are so quick it’s like he’s got a vibrating egg pressed up against your pussy. How is he real? you think before your brain stops working, muscles locking up as your orgasm crashes into you.

Pleasure bursts behind your closed lids and you hear yourself yell out his name. Your leg falls from the barre as you spasm, but Jimin doesn’t let that deter him. He pushes you forward against the barre so that you’re leaning against it.

“Hey. Who told you to close your eyes?” Jimin chastises as his fingers continue to rub and pluck your clitoris.

At his command, you force your eyes open. Immediately, you have no choice but to take note of your debauched expression - face still contorted in pleasure, drool running past the side of your opened mouth. It’s shocking. An hour ago, your hair had been perfectly tied back, your appearance impeccable. Now, your promiscuous appearance is almost shameful.

Jimin finally slows down his movements and you take the much needed break to finally breathe.

It’s a struggle getting your heartbeat back to normal. You still feel the aftershocks of the orgasm, light shivers that run down your neck and back, while your slick walls occasionally twitch, wetness seeping out of your puffy cunt.

Jimin also doesn’t help. You watch, unable to look away as he brings his hand up to his mouth and licks it clean. Something in your belly twists at the sight, dark and possessive. The thought of the two of you sharing each other’s scents pleases you more than you ever imagined it would.

“You were perfect.” He kisses the side of your face and you try not to melt under his praise. “Let’s go get dressed?”

You try to stand properly without the aid of the barre but stumble, legs almost giving out. Jimin catches you easily, amusement dancing on his face.

“If I can’t dance properly tomorrow, you better take responsibility,” you mutter.

“Hey. Why did you think I didn’t give you my cock tonight?”

You look down and stare at his very prominent bulge. The white tights leave nothing to the imagination - just the sight has your mouth watering. When you meet his gaze, he looks amused by your reaction.

“You know... I don’t need my voice to dance well.” You flutter your lashes, expectant.

“Anyone tell you you’re a dirty girl?”

“No. Only you.”

He growls as he kisses you, lips melting into a smile. Stars shine in his eyes when he pulls back, his expression melting into adoration.

“Only mine.”

❆ we’ll melt the sand at the bottom of the sea, we’ll dance to fight the despair over the frozen asphalt city ❆

Everywhere around you it’s a whirlwind of movement. Dancers mill about the wings as they work their arches and stretch their limbs to keep their bodies warm. Some scurry from dancer to dancer as they conduct last-minute costume check-ups.

Only you stay immobile, fear rooting you in place. The feeling is as unfamiliar as it is unwelcome; you've never experienced stage fright in your life. Never, not once.

Admittedly, you’ve always been a part of the corps or running around backstage, using your minimal sewing skills to help out with last minute costume adjustments. You’ve never had the spotlight directed towards you, potentially highlighting your every misstep.

The moment the overhead projectors dim and Wootae motions at you to find your mark, your heart feels like it’ll burst from your rib cage. All of a sudden, your legs feel weak, like they’ll give out at any given moment. You don’t know how you’ll be able to walk across the stage with trembling limbs - let alone balance en pointe.

Just as you gather your courage to step onto center stage, someone grabs your hand and squeezes tightly.

“You’re overthinking.” When you turn around, Jimin’s gaze on yours is unwavering - a stable constant that tethers you to reality. “Nothing matters now but the music.”

The words strike a chord within you. They’re comforting, familiar. Words you’ve thought to yourself a thousand times but needed to hear said to you.

His thumb rubs circles over the back of your hand, his inner wrist brushing up against the sensitive skin of your own, and your lips part open in surprise. Scenting is a subtle and intimate act generally reserved for lovers - a universal sign you’ve claimed someone as your own.

“J-Jimin...”

“I believe in you.” His eyes gleam in the dark like two bright stars. “Let’s do our best today too, okay?”

You’re unable to respond, still struck dumb by his actions, his words, and the realization that you’ll soon be dancing in front of a real, live audience in a few minutes. It all seems too surreal.

The past week comes back to you in flashes of color and sound - Jimin’s hands on your hips as he lifts you high into the air, the familiar opening notes of Tchaikovsky’s March, Wootae’s careful corrections as he monitors your solo. All these memories rush in, melting away the shards of self-doubt that had taken root in your heart.

Jimin’s right. You’ve shed sweat and tears preparing for this part. All the extra hours spent before and after rehearsals perfecting your dancing have brought you here. There’s no reason to start doubting yourself now.

Your lips bloom into a smile and Jimin, in turn, squeezes your hand one last time.

#jordan i swear this fic isn't as weird as it sounds lmao #happy holidays!#dance majors pls dont come for me thanks #bts smut #jimin smut #jimin #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader

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cloudninetonine · 3 years ago

Text

A past that still haunts me

A/N: Hey guys, it's me (ya boi) I'm back with my still current hyper fixation Genshin Impact and a vent fic because I've been really stressed and well, it's hard living in my house :) It's a hurt/comfort fic because they always get to me and I needed to make something for myself

I am willing to do aftermath where the boys confront the abuser or do scenario but with different characters

Synopsis: You’re not a damsel in distress, you never have been and you never will be, but, well, sometimes you need a hero to rely on and that’s okay

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli and Childe

Warnings: Hints to past abuse, confrontation of abuser, violence, mentions of blood, threats, foul language

It had meant to be like any other menial day of an adventurer: sign in with Katheryne, complete your commissions, sign out with Katheryne with your payments - done and dusted.

But that wasn’t how it went, no, far from it - archons, so damn far from it.

“Thank you once again, (Name)” Katheryne’s smile was kind like usual, holding that familiar feeling of gratitude as she handed over your remission within a marked package, hand returning to the desk’s polished surface once you had taken it graciously, sending her a beaming grin back. “The Guild really appreciates your work ethic when it comes to the Ruin machines, it’s hard to come across adventurers who want to handle them anymore”

You sent her a shrug as you placed away the box “Can’t blame them really, they’re a hard bunch to handle- I was terrified of them when I first started too, but I had my vision to help me out, a lot of these folk only use there pure determination to eradicate them, gotta admire that!”

She laughed along with you politely “Have a good evening, (Name), I’ll see you again tomorrow?”

“Of course you will!” You backpedalled away from the guild reception, throwing the woman a polite double fingered salute as you did “Ad astra abyssoque as they say, my fair lady!”

She parrotted back her usual phrase before disappearing into the building, you walking further down the path of the city for your final activity for that day.

Of course, you didn’t reach that far, after all, it wasn’t that menial day you had expected, that you had wanted. Life was cruel sometimes, so incredibly cruel for no justified reason just for the sake of it all and you wished, archons, you wished you could rewind the clock and stop yourself from bumping into the body, to save yourself from all the repressed trauma bursting forth like a flurry of butterflies, well, more like moths, disgusting, ungodly, monster moths that aimed straight for the face.

“Sorry!” You yelped, too preoccupied with gathering your pocketwatch you had dropped in the stumble to see who it had been, after all, you were on a schedule and you didn’t want to be-

“(Name)?”

...late.

All of a sudden, time didn’t seem to exist, or maybe it was moving way too slowly from that horrid spike of adrenaline that shot into your bloodstream as soon as the voice registered.

You hoped to the Archons that it wasn’t, that it couldn’t, but did the gods hear your prayers?

“Oh Archons, it is you! It’s been such a long time!”

Of course, they did, they just didn’t care to listen. Ignoring the cries of your people were in fashion to them these days.

They stood there with a smile so excited it almost seemed to tear their face in half, with eyes sparkling with recognition after so many years away from them, they opened their arms welcoming you into their embrace like it was something just so normal for the two of you like you would come bounding to them like a lost puppy who had finally found their master.

The fear of your abuser dwarfed in comparison the pure feral rage and loathing to think that they even deserved to be breathing in the same space as you.

People were looking, of course, they were looking, you knew what they were doing, being bright and jovial, bringing others attention towards you both so that whatever scene you caused would be your fault like you were the bad guy. It was old tactics, of course, you wouldn’t dare do anything when you were younger, you’d just push through it, but this wasn’t old times, this wasn’t younger you, scared, smaller you afraid them, this was you now, a warrior, unwavering in battle, a person who smiled in the face of danger, who laughed at the pitiful fights that 2- no- 4 abyss mages brought to you!

To hell what other people thought, you’d stomp their head into the cobblestone if they had so much as poked you.

“Come here and give me a-”

You took a step back, mustering the deadliest face you could, but you wavered, it was only natural, no matter how much you could try to hype yourself up, this person was your first true experience of real-life nightmares, the first person to bring you true pain, no matter how many ruin guards, hunters, millachurls, mages- anything you faced, nothing could prepare you to face your first fear:

The fear of your older sibling.

“If you fucking touch me I’ll stab you-” The growl cracked nearing the end, you were always an angry crier but you were not about to fall back to this- this monster. “In front of all these people, I won’t hesitate”

Their face dropped followed by your stomach, though, the food you had for lunch sure did feel its way up your gullet.

“What’s with your language? We haven’t seen each other in four years and this is how you treat me? Your older sibling?” They laughed in disbelief because onlookers would think they were shocked, I mean, how could you speak to family like that? But they didn’t know, they didn’t know the words they had told you, the insults, the threats, those tight grabs, those beatings- they didn’t know, so they obviously didn’t know that the shock came from the fact that you had stood up to them.

You licked your lips to get rid of the dryness, but the problem you faced was that your mouth had dried out along with them, as did your throat.

Don’t let them turn this on you, don’t let them get the upper hand, you were better than them, so much better.

“You’re not my fucking sibling” You spat, feeling the air vibrate around you, a sudden shine from your cloak hinted you to the cause “You haven’t been for a long time, don’t fucking try that shit with me”

There it was, that familiar enraged spark, that look of hatred on their face, the thing that warned you about what you said had been the right thing to set them off, that they were just as easily triggered by the smallest act of rebellion just like when you were kids.

Of course, they hadn’t changed.

Evil never did.

They took a step forward but you didn’t back off, just hardened your resolve as they leaned in menacingly, as though their stupid little intimidation tactic still worked after all these years.

You told yourself it didn’t but you knew deep down that wasn’t completely true.

“Don’t speak to me like that, (Name)” Facade gone, they showed you what they really were, what they were really like after all, “Don’t you ever speak to me like that, you show me fucking respect”

Respect?

RESPECT!?

Oh Archons, you were angry, no, seething from the thought that they ever deserved respect.

That pathetic piece of shit, that gruelling pleb, mere gum on the bottom of your damn shoe-

You’d kill them, right here, right now.

You felt the familiar materialisation begin to form in your hand when another voice called out, a familiar loving one that nearly made your throat swell from relief.

“(Name)?”

Diluc

He could sense the tension. Of course, he could sense the tension, Diluc had faced this tension so many times before, he was practically the one that owned such a vibe anytime Kaeya even breathed near him for a second longer than necessary.

But being the one to witness it, to see you, the usual awkward, goofy sweetheart stare at another with such overbearing malice made him uneasy, caused his stomach to churn in ways he didn’t like, set him off in a way that was only reserved for the most chilling on moments.

Diluc wondered what exactly this stranger had done to warrant such a reaction from you.

“(Name)?” The redhead called, glancing around the many citizens of Mondstadt that watched the exchange with intrigue, guard and worry, eyes focused on the scene of this foreign stranger and fuming you, hand poised by your side with weapon particles dancing on your palm.

When Diluc finally made it over, his form seemed to curl protectively around you, hand landing on the small of your back delicately while keeping face with the person, eyes narrowed dangerously but still holding an air of civilness.

A true gentleman, even when you were close to merking some rando.

“Is there a problem?”

The stranger straightened immediately, backing up a few steps with their hands up in defence, sending Diluc a charming smile that the man could see through crystal clear.

“No problem, no problem at all” They glanced back at you, seemingly friendly despite his partner’s obvious ill intent that radiated off you in waves “Isn’t that right, (Name)?”

Diluc saw you tense up once again, the buzz from your Vision rising in volume with your obvious anger as you tightened your first, ready to just screw your weapon and go for the throat.

“If that is the case” The noble’s hand softly pressed against your back, gently but coaxing, knowing that conflict in the middle of the town centre would just bring the knights to meddle in affairs that they had no business attending “Then we shall be going”

“There’s no need to leave, after all, my sibling and I were just chatting”

He paused, shouldering a questioning glance your way but at the sight of your unruly expression, he pushed down his enquiries and once again began coaxing you away from the scene. Angel’s Share had already been open for a while, meaning the usual folk would already be settled in, but the storage room was sure to be a good place to chat and to calm you down, all he needed to do was get you away.

“We already had plans” The side glance had the stranger- your sibling, biting their tongue, brows furrowing in a known annoyance as the two of you began your way towards the pub, you still vibrating in anger. “Good day to you”

The two of you had made it a few feet when they called out once again “Don’t worry, (Name), I’ll see you again real soon”

Diluc’s arm tightened around you faster than you could react, tugging you away quickly “Diluc-”

“No, (Name)”

“Stay out-”

“Not here” Sharing a look, he softened at the shine in your eyes. “You’ll just attract the knights' attention”

You didn’t care, no, not one bit. If the knights had dared to interfere at that moment, they too would have been caught up in your blinded revenge, thrown aside or slashed down without single care just to finally eradicate the bane of your existence and you didn’t care about what consequences you brought about, you just didn’t and you made sure to tell Diluc that, as soon as you had the privacy of Angel’s Share’s storeroom, pacing up and down while he stood off to the side against the wall, watching silently.

“You had no right to get in my way!” You snapped, voice shaking from the pure emotions you were releasing “I finally had my chance, I was finally going to do it! They deserve to end by my hand, by my decision, after the years of torture they put me through! They deserved it! And you got in my way! How could you get in my way! I-”

Pushing off the wall, he slowly advanced towards you, carefully, hands out like he was approaching a wounded animal.

“I understand you’re upset-”

“I’m not upset!” You cried at him, stopping mid-step before dropping your head and tightly, grabbing your hair in your hands “I’m not upset! I’m angry! I’m so fucking angry! And I deserve to be fucking angry! I-”

The sob ripped through your throat despite you trying to hold it back, tears finally gathering in your eyes and rapidly falling down your cheeks “You should have let me kill them! I should have had the chance to rid the world of their evil! It’s not fair! It’s not- it’s not fair, I-”

You didn’t bother to fight him when his arms finally wrapped around you, just fell against him as you wept. The pent up rage, fear and sadness from years of repression taking its toll as you cried, your partner whispering sweet words as he raked his hand through your hair gently and leaned his head against yours.

“I’m sorry” His hand held your cheek fondly, ruby red staring back into your own eyes with a softness that made you melt “I didn’t know this meant so much to you, but if you’re willing to tell me, I’ll listen. I’ll always listen”

With another choked sob, you leaned into his hold “Please just hold me for now”

And he did just that.

Kaeya

The captain had promised to meet you at his office, a simple task really but with the lingering presence of Jean and the words ‘There’s so much work that needs to be done’ leaving her lips he bolted, hoping to catch you by the Guild and drag you to Angel Share for your date. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help her, it was just he had already promised you this night and Eula could have always taken his place with paperwork, her threat of “vengeance” as she liked to call it could wait for another day.

It was also due to the fact he had no intentions of filing any paperwork for as long as he could avoid it, but that was his secret to be kept.

Being the perspective man he was, he could tell straight away he had walked into something tense, surveying the surrounding people of Mondstadt who looked on in concern, the unbridled rage upon your face, the obviously intimidating lean that the stranger held over you- something was wrong and he knew he had to put a stop to it.

“(Name)?” You glanced for a single moment before your furious glare had returned to the stranger, another flag waving right in his face as he approached, “My dear? Who might this be?”

Before you could snap, lip curling in disgust, the stranger stood back to their full height, switching quickly with a fake charming smile that practically mirrored his own, holding out their hand towards him “(S/N) (Last), (Name)’s older sibling. it’s nice to meet you”

Kaeya’s smile widened and despite the glare from you that was now focused on him, he shook your sibling's hand in-kind “Kaeya Alberich, (Name)’s partner-”

He made sure to tighten his grip with his last words “And Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius”

Successfully, as he always was, Kaeya held back the smug, mocking grin that itched to climb onto his face when the neck of your sibling bobbed nervously, forehead reflecting the afternoon light as sweat gathered on their brow.

The man hadn’t obviously threatened them, surely, Kaeya was smarter than that, but then again, he could still present himself as a threat, a good one and well, his title was a menacing one when it came to the right moment. ‘Try anything and not only do I have the authority to kick your arse but the power to put you in a place many didn’t dare even step’ shortened into an innocent sentence with only 8 words.

“Cavalry Captain? That’s quite impressive” They laughed off, tugging away their hand awkwardly when Kaeya continued to keep a firm grip, his present eye focused solely on your siblings face. They glanced over to you “Quite an achievement for you, aye (Name)?”

You growled, “I’ll show you an achievement-”

Kaeya’s arm had wrapped around your waist not a second later, tugging you tighter to his side as the two of you turned, the man throwing your sibling a smile over his shoulder.

“As nice as it was to meet you, (S/B), we must be going”

And then without another word Kaeya dragged you away, heading in the direction of your home instead of Angel Share tavern, feeling your pure, unfiltered anger the whole way along with the citizens as they parted ways, rushing off from your rage.

It was only when you had returned to the sanctuary of your abode did you snap, jerking away from your boyfriend with angered strides and beginning your seething lecture towards him, moving up and down through the living room while he ventured off into the kitchen, grabbing 2 glasses and a bottle of wine.

“How dare you Kaeya! How fucking dare you! Do you have any idea what you were doing back there!? What was even happening back there!? So much for being the most observant man in Mondstadt because you seemed pretty dense to me the whole fucking time!” Your hands raked through your hair as you yelled, trying so hard to hold back the tears “I didn’t need your damn help, Kaeya! Nor did I fucking want it! Know to stay out of someone's business when it isn’t wanted!”

Logically you knew what he had done, you were smart like that and you knew Kaeya long enough to know what he was doing but your rage, fear and sadness blocked out everything in that moment, made you blind to reality, made you only think irrationally and Kaeya didn’t blame you for that. He could never blame you for that.

Though, it did hurt him to see you in this state.

“Wine?”

You gawked at him for a moment, staring at him with shock and confusion as he held out a wine glass towards you, another held in his other hand and a sweet smile plastered on his face, before your moment morphed into rage, grabbing the drink from his hand and tossing it towards the wall, the red wine splattering over the wallpaper and glass shards falling to the floor.

“Well, that was a waste-”

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Kaeya!?” You cried, not even bothering to hold back anymore as the tears fell and your voice cracked, hand pointing accusingly in his face “Is this some kind of joke to you!? Huh!? Am I a fool in your eyes!? Some sort of blubbering idiot!? Why must you- why do you-”

The second glass was placed on the dresser by you both, Kaeya’s hand coming to hold your cheek fondly while the other came to grab your hand that dangled in the air, still poised at him “I don’t think you're either of those, my dear, in fact, I think you’re one of the brightest in the whole of Teyvat, nevermind Mondstadt”

You hiccuped “Then why-”

Brushing away the wetness from your cheek, he brought your hand to his mouth to place a fond kiss on your palm “Because you mustn’t cry, (Name), don’t waste your tears on someone like them”

“I’m not crying, I’m-”

He shushed you gently and you finally relaxed, falling into his embrace with a heavy heart “-I’m not, I swear-”

Within the familiarity of your home, you wept in his arms, exhausted from the whirlwind of emotions and the scenes that had transpired that day, ready to just curl into yourself and try to block the flooding memories of history. Although, having Kaeya at that moment helped more than he could ever know, having him to rely on made it all so much easier to cope with that day.

“Tell me what ails you and I’ll listen” Brushing back some hair, he pressed a kiss to your head.

“Can..can we just stay like this for a while?”

“Of course, my dear”

Zhongli

He had sensed the incoming danger like it had been revealed in some sort of premonition. Maybe it had been a skill he had acquired after his long, eventful life, maybe it was his connection to Liyue and his citizens, but for some reason, as he sat before Iron Tongue Tian as the man recalled his tales of ancient Liyue like usual, Zhongli knew that the crowd that was forming around Wamin Restaurant had something that he need urgently attend, especially when even Tian paused his story to glance around the corner of the restaurant building to see the commotion.

When the archon had finally borne witness to the scene, he paused within the crowd, surveying the surroundings carefully. You were the centre of attention, along with another stranger, both glaring at one another with anger and disgust, though your own anger seemed to double compared to the other’s, seeing as your weapon was slowly materialising in your grip. Zhongli could also see Guild Master Lan making her way down the steps leading to the Guild reception, a worried expression on her face glancing between you and the approaching Millelith.

Zhongli made his decision, politely pushing through the crowd until he had finally made it by your side, hand being placed gently on your arm “(Name)?”

Both you and the stranger glanced at him, but he paid no mind to them, only held eye contact with you when Lan appeared by your other side, glaring at the stranger with a hardened gaze.

“Are you harassing my guild member?”

Before the stranger could respond, the Millelith had also popped in, glancing between you and them “Is there a problem?”

Zhongli had taken up your view when Lan began her take, she had borne witness for much longer than he had of course and he was certain that you were in no state to talk to the guards. Your eyes were glazed with hatred, pupils pinpricks in a sea of (E/C) and your hands were shaking, balled into fists.

If anything, he needed to try and calm you down first.

“Get the hell out of my way, Zhongli” Your teeth ground together, words shaking with anger “Don’t push yourself into my business”

“I’m sorry, my love, but I can’t do that” He tried brushing your cheek but you jerked away, glaring at his hand before glaring back at him, in no mood to be coddled “I don’t want you to do something you’d regret”

“Trust me, I won’t regret this one bit”

Zhongli held his tongue for the question that almost rolled out, knowing now wasn’t the time for inquiries when the stranger’s voice rang out, condescending and snarky as they addressed you.

“Still need people to protect you, aye (Name)? Of course, you’re still the same pathetic bitch from years ago”

You were lucky for your reputation around Liyue, for the picture of the kind and caring adventurer that had swept through the town from your years of living here because had it not been for that, you pushing aside your boyfriend and materialising your weapon to aim it at your sibling’s throat would have had you in cuffs that instant.

Lan grabbed you, tugging you away as you screamed “I’ll show you pathetic you fucker! Let me go!”

The Millelith didn’t wait to drag your sibling away, much to their cries of dismay, one sending Lan a nod while you continued to fight against her, crying out in frustration.

“Kid, you have to calm down-”

“Calm down!? No! Get the hell off me!”

Zhongli watched as you finally broke away, huffing and puffing up a storm before glancing amongst the crowd, staring at their worried and concerned faces, your own eyes tearing up before you looked away pushing past the crowd to find somewhere to be alone.

When Lan went to call out for you, Zhongli raised his hand, the two sharing a look before the archon made his way after you, his longer legs keeping a steady pace to which he could catch up to you, just beyond the bridge that led into Liyue Harbour. There were no people where you stood, just the lush green plants and great mountains of nature, a perfect place for you to let out your frustration without the prying eyes of the citizens.

“(Name)-”

“Leave me alone!” You cried, curling into yourself with your back turned to him “I don’t want you here, Zhongli! Nor did I want you back there! I didn’t need your or anyone else's help!”

You knew he was here from a place of concern, and deep down you begged that your words didn’t harm him in any way, but currently, you didn’t care, you didn’t want to care, you just wanted to be numb, numb to the flashbacks of your horrid past and numb to the feelings that were dragged along with them.

“My love, please, return with me to our home, I will brew some calming tea-”

“Tea? Tea!? Does it look like I want any fucking tea?! I couldn’t care any less about some fucking tea, Zhongli!” Spinning around on your heels, you scowled at him, not bothering to hide your rushing tears “Don’t you get it!? I want to be left alone, I-”

Two gloved hands gently encased your face, your angered expression morphing into one of shock as your partner stared down at you with glowing eyes filled with a deep-rooted love, affection, worry and so much more that you couldn’t put into mere mortal words. At that moment, everything felt as if it had melted away, only you and him were in this world, nothing else, just the two of you.

And you felt as though your heart had been lifted from the pressures of this life.

“I do not think it is best for you to be left alone” His baritone voice was always so calming, so serene and in your sane moment, you finally felt its effects “I wish to stay with you, so please, let me stay”

With a whimper, you grabbed onto his forearms and leaned your face into his hands, tears continuing to fall as your eyes fluttered shut “Okay…”

“They have hurt you deeply, haven’t they?”

Hesitantly, you nodded.

“Would you be so kind as to tell me the details?”

“I-...” Sharing eye contact once again, you whispered “Can- can you just...hold me for now? Please”

Moving his hands from your face, he engulfed you in his arms, leaning his head against yours “Of course”

Childe

The Harbinger had just left the Northland Bank, hell, he was just about to make his way down the spiral staircase but when hearing the commotion, he paused, something in his gut telling him to check just before and he was glad he did.

Glancing over the elevated walkway, he felt a fiery pit roar in the depths of his stomach, eyes narrowing dangerously at the scene; you were snarling in some other person’s face, their own face nothing short of disgust and a crowd that only seemed to grow by the minute.

Who the hell did this person think they were? Did they even know who you were? To stand so close to you, with a look of threat on their face like you weren’t about to kick their arse? Like he wasn’t about to kick their arse? How did this insignificant speck of dross not know your connections with him, the 11th Harbinger? Or did he know and was just trying his luck?

“Seems like someone has a death wish” And a death wish they had indeed.

Ignoring the perplexed glance from his subordinate stationed outside the building's entrance, Childe made his way down the steps, murderous look stitched on the whole way to the circle of civilians, the mass parting ways for the man that was Tartaglia and continuing to watch the moment in silence.

“Who the hell are you-” You both turned towards him, you in shock while the stranger stared in confusion until Childe’s hand wrapped around their collar, tugging them closer to look down at them with a deep-rooted disgust “-And why the hell are you harassing my partner?”

They fought against him, obviously, they did, but the surprise came when you saddled up next to him, grabbing his arm “Stay out of this, Tartaglia”

What? It hadn't been your request, no, you were always one to finish your whole fights you weren't "A damsel in distress after all!" no, you were so much more, so much greater but that look on your face, murderous and downright cruel- he just couldn't believe his ears.

Childe stared at you in shock while the stranger struggled, throwing him a dirty look in their attempts “Yeah, this is between my sibling and I”

Childe straightened in surprise, feeling embarrassment flood his system. Had he seriously just grabbed and threatened his lover’s family member? Oh, Archons, his judgement had been clouded by anger at the look of the scene, I mean, why would your sibling look at you that way-

“But it’s really no surprise that you still need to be babied, (Name), how shameful”

His eyes widened but not a moment later had you tackled your sibling, the crowd crying out in alarm as you threw back your fist and crushed their nose under the weight of your punch. “I’ll show you fucking shameful, bastard!”

There was shouting and a glance showed the oncoming Millelith marching towards the circle.

Being Fatui always did garner the attention of the guards nowadays, especially for him, who had tried to lure out the attention of their Archon by summoning an ancient god that nearly drowned the entirety of the harbour, so it was no surprise that they seemed to hurry in the pursuit when they noticed his appearance at the scene. However, lucky for him, your reputation as a great adventurer preceded you and throughout Liyue you were seen as a trusted and well-liked individual, meaning whatever trouble you got in, containing his meddling or not, was usually waved away due to the trust of the people.

So, without another thought, Childe tugged you off of your bloodied sibling and held you close, even as you thrashed violently, shouting at him to let you go.

“What is going on here?” A guard called, slamming the hilt of his polearm into the ground as he surveyed the area, eyes landing on the sibling before following the small trail of blood to you, still fighting against your boyfriend with threats falling from your lips “Was there a reason for this brawl? Who started it?”

As your sibling raised themselves on their forearms, they scowled and opened their mouth to respond, only for Childe to put in. “It was them, sir, they were the one that started it, (Name) was merely acting in self-defence”

The Millelith scowled at him, raising a brow and once again looking you over “Is that so?”

He addressed the crowd soon after “Is this what happened?”

And as expected, they all glanced over the sibling, then to you and piped up in agreement. It paid to be a hero, it seemed, the whole harbour returning the favour of years of helping out the community.

“If that’s the case, please come with us” The sibling cried out, anger and fear laced into their voice, trying to argue for their innocence only for the guards to grab them, hauling them away to archons know where while Childe did the same with you, slowly dragging you away from the scene and back into the bank, you screaming and cursing the whole way until you had made it to his office, finally managing to push him off and storming to the opposite side of the room practically seething.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Tartaglia!?” You cried, throwing out your arms in exaggeration “I didn’t need your fucking help! And why the fuck would you pull me off them!? I had them right where I wanted them and you fucking did that! Are you a moron!?”

“You had a sibling” He breathed, watching as you began to pace, muttering in an angered state “And you didn’t tell me”

“-after all these years I finally had the chance to end their pathetic excuse of a life and you just got in my fucking way! I’d waited too long for this moment and you fucking ruined it! How dare you, how fucking dare you-”

“(Name), why didn’t you tell me you had a sibling!?” He cried, walking up to you and grabbing your wrist to stop you “I was ready to kill them right there! And why are you talking about them like this!? They’re your family aren’t they-”

“They are not my fucking family!”

The scream echoed through the room, chilling Childe to the core as you ripped your arm from his grasp, running your hands through your hair before gripping it so tightly it felt close to being ripped from your head. But you didn’t care, no, you couldn’t, you were so angry and you needed something to keep you grounded, to keep yourself from losing yourself and getting lost in those haunting past memories.

The Harbinger felt his chest squeeze painfully as the tears fell down your face, red rimming your eyes and cheeks wet as you sobbed, chest heaving from trying to breathe “Family takes care of you! Family thinks of you in the highest light possible! They love you for who you are and they love you no matter what! That bastard hurt me, made me feel worthless and they refuse to believe they could do no wrong and I hate them! They are the bane of my existence! They are not my fucking family! I hate them, I hate them, I hate them, I-”

Arms were around you instantly, Childe’s face pressed into your hair as you wept, grasping onto the lapels of his suit and shoving your face into his chest to muffle your cries.

“I’m sorry” He whispered, his own eyes shining slightly “I’m sorry, I was being insensitive. Please, don’t cry”

“No, I’m not crying, I promised myself I wouldn’t-” You hiccuped “I wouldn’t waste any more tears on them-”

Then you broke off into more wails, your boyfriend holding you close and letting you continue to cry in his arms, warm and comforting until you were finally reduced to whimpers, leaning into him heavily as the remaining adrenaline in your body began to wear thin when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Will...will you tell me about it?”

You sniffed “Later...just hold me for now, please, Ajax...”

His arms tightened protectively “Anything for you, my love”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact diluc x reader #diluc x reader #genshin impact kaeya #genshin impact kaeya x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact zhongli x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact childe #genshin impact childe x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact tartaglia #genshin impact tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x reader

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minyoongees · 3 years ago

Text

comethru || myg

✧ pairing: manager!yoongi x worker!reader

✧ genre: slight angst? hurt/comfort, pathetic attempt at crack, barely there fluff

✧ word count: 2k

✧ summary: Yoongi saves you from heinous karens

✧ snip: "We have a coupon for a free meal at your restaurant and we demand you open it right now!!" this bitch—

✧ warnings: karens, oc gets all panicky, bubbling anxiety, rude af people, unhealthy relations with parents, unrequited love? (oc doesn’t really know)

This fic was genuinely fun to write! I know I did not do a very good job on this it’s lengthy with useless info but it just felt important. Let me know what you think of this!

Also, the title is inspired by Jeremy Zucker's comethru

As a new worker in a big restaurant, there are a few words one could dread to hear. For example, 'You're fired' sounds horrifying, gut wrenching, all your student loans flash before your eyes. It's scary, yes, but it's not as dreadful as the infamous —

"Can I see your manager?"

"Ma'am I already told you the restaurant opens at 11:30 am, and none of the staff arrives before 11, but I'd be happy to serve you at 11:30" you assured.

BANG!

One of the three ladies with a blonde bob cut hit at the door again.

"We don't talk to low class workers, call your manager!" Called out another from the group while the bangs continued. It was so loud you were almost afraid that they will tear this place down.

"Because of the unavailability of the manager, a low class worker is all you'll have to speak to for now," you spat, "but I'd be happiest if you don't speak to me at all"

Numerous loud gasps were heard. If the head chef heard you talking like this, you'll be out of the restaurant sooner than these karens can call your manager.

"HOW DARE YOU TALK LIKE THAT TO A CUSTOMER???"

"Ma'am since you have not walked into the restaurant yet, you are not our customer." you tried to explain, "The restaurant opens at 11:30 ma'am which is just in an hour and a half, I suggest you wait outside on one of the tables."

Even though it was kinda against the rules to sit on the tables unless you eat at the restaurant, but you desperately needed to get rid of the situation. The restaurant didn't even open yet, so what could be the big deal about them sitting on the benches outside. You were just hoping your manager would be understanding.

Anticipating another harsh string of words from them, the total silence that hit you surprised you. You pulled the blinds lower and peeked through them. The ladies were seated on the chairs outside, looking through their phones. Even though a bit shocked that they decided to do what you asked so easily, you didn't wanna jinx it. You thanked your lucky stars and moved on to getting the coffee machine started.

The day hasn't even started yet and the karens are here to disrupt the place already. Being the newbie, you have to come early to get this place started and on top of that, people like them are making it even harder. You clearly don't get paid enough for this.

Moving on to wiping all the tables, you were wishing that when your manger arrives, he'll understand the situation. To come to think of it, he's actually a good man and been nothing but nice to you since you joined here a month ago. He even covered up for you when you broke a plate. Another time he took the blame upon himself when you put a bit too much salt in of the dishes and a few people left unsatisfied. He's been sheltering you ever since you joined here and you've been enjoying this more than you should. Yet you still can't help but hope he handles it this time too and saves you from these heinous Karens.

brrring brrring brrring!!

The sounds catches you off guard not because of it's sudden penetration into the too good to be true silence, but because it shouldn't be ringing when it's the restaurant's hours closed. Nevertheless against your better judgement you pick it up and place the receiver between your ear and shoulder.

"Thanks for calling the Nile's! My name is y/n, how can I help you today?"

"We have a coupon for a free meal at your restaurant and we demand you open it right now!!"

this bitch—

"Ma'am as I explained already, the restaurant opens at 11:30 and if you walk in by then, I'll be happy to serve you and make use of your coupons too." Is it too early to quit?

"Am I talking to the manager?" she asked penetratingly.

"The manager is not here yet, but as soon as he arrives, I'll make sure you're the first person he talks to." you tried calmly hoping it would help.

The woman on the line took a deep breath but nothing could prepare you for the coming onslaught of distress.

"Missy you've been saying this to us since the morning and yet your manager isn't here. You should not open a restaurant when you do not know how to run it.”

She was so loud you couldn't even hear yourself losing the will to live.

"You do not know my husband. If he gets to know about the way you've treated me today, your restaurant will be closed forever." She threatened and you could hear her talking from the outside. Did she know that you did not own the restaurant?? "You should be grateful to me for not telling. Now open this damn door RIGHT NOW!!”

Another round of bangs started ringing and it echoed through the walls. They seemed louder than you know they should've been. And it was the trigger. The helplessness of the situation created panic. Your eyes unfocused, your stomach churned and your heartbeat escalated. You felt trapped.

Her shrill sound coming from the phone felt like it was piercing your ear drums and you could no longer understand what she was saying. So you slammed the receiver back into place, not knowing what to do anymore.

The grip on the cloth between your fingers seemed weak. You have always been a strong woman, dealing with irrational people all your life since you spent most of it around such people. But the karens have been tormenting you since the past 30 minutes and it was bound to get to you, sooner or later. Though you'd hoped for later rather than sooner. They way they started banging on the door while demanding something from you seemed so familiar to the way your parents banged on your bedroom door when you locked yourself in to save yourself from them.

Anywho, the situation is delayed for now and you have to calm down and start working again or you won't be done till the rest of the staff comes around. You don't know till when you'll be living under Yoongi's shadows and he'll be protecting you.

You put your hands on your face and let out a deep breath. Back to work bitches.

You started wiping the tables again, trying to think about something else. That 'something else' had a lot of options for you like, how are you going to repay your student loan that you took to go to college and didn't even help you land a decent job, or how your mom has been pestering you since months to get married and you haven't the found the best way to tell her yet that you wanna focus on your career for now and become a chef, or... well let's just say you had better things to worry about. But your train off thoughts was cut short when the phone rang again.

You already knew who was calling, so you decided against picking up. The ear splitting sound of the phone again echoed through the walls and it made you want to throw the phone against a wall. You know the restaurant phones should be loud enough to be heard by the staff even when the place is busy, but it did not help with the way it was making you feel.

After what seemed like forever, it stopped ringing and you went on to work again. The phone rang several times after that and with each ring, you felt your patience slipping farther away from you. You had half the mind to pick up the phone and tell them off, but you knew it would only anger them further. Yet you couldn't let this go on so after at least a dozen calls, you decided to pick it up.

"Thanks for calling at the Nile's! My name is y/n how can I help you today?" you spoke through a sigh.

"I'VE BEEN CALLING AT THIS DAMN RESTAURANT SINCE THE PAST 2 HOURS AND NOBODY HAS PICKED IT UP." she bellowed. If you thought she was loud and shrill earlier, you would change your mind now. Also, 2 hours????? you weren’t even here 2 hours ago!

"I HAVE GOT ALL THAT YOU HAVE DONE ON MY PHONE AND I WILL POST THIS ALL ON FACEBOOK THE WAY YOU HAVE TREATED ME IS NOT AT ALL A WAY TO TREAT A CUSTOMER." she didn't even pause for a breath "WAIT TILL MY HUSBAND HEARS ABOUT THIS."

You didn't dare say anything for the fear that anything that may come out of your mouth right now, may anger her further, considering, you were not the manager she hoped to talk to.

There was small hustle on the other end. You could hear the ladies outside arguing a little. After a short pause, someone spoke again.

"Am I talking to manager?" this was not the woman who yelled at you earlier but someone else.

"Yes you are, ma'am"

You let out a small shriek. Surprised to see the receiver that was in your hands a moment ago, placed against Yoongi's ear. When the hell did he get here and how did you not even realize?? Even so, a strange feeling of safety filled up your chest at the sight of him and you felt like you could breath again.

"No ma'am, we cannot do that for you. As y/n here explained to you, the restaurant opens at 11:30 and no exceptions will be made for anyone." he explained calmly and it had you hoping that they'd listen to him if not you.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience caused to you ma'am."

You just stood being a witness to one side of the conversation. You could hear someone talking outside the restaurant as well, but couldn't make out their exact words.

You admired his calm even in such a patronizing situation. At least to you, it was that way. In your eyes, he seemed so serene, his lips moved to utter the most calming sounds and you felt like you'd hand over your life to him if he asked you for it.

You really needed to practice professional work ethics when it came to him.

"Yes we will take care of this in the future, thank you for your suggestion."

"Ma'am we do not accept any kind of coupons for any of the meals provided here. Are you sure it is the same restaurant?"

Wait. But we do accept coupons here at the Nile's...

"No ma'am we cannot do that for you. There is no such policy, and we do not accept coupons."

"You can totally go ahead and call the police for yourself and we'll be sure to tell them how have harassed one of our workers over here." He said in an unbothered tone, gaze floating to you and you strangely found yourself looking away.

"Sure thing. Thank you for calling!"

And he placed the receiver back, as if job accomplished.

"Are you okay y/n?" He questioned. In his deep eyes, you saw genuine concern for yourself and you wanted to stay there for some while more. His voice was music to your ears and you did not want your own voice to taint the air around.

But he asked you something.

"Yeah." you said breathlessly and cleared your throat. "Yes, I'm fine, thanks for the help Yoongi"

It was something he insisted you call him even though the rules say he is your senior and should be addressed as so.

"Such people are so irritating and do not deserve to be let out of their homes. What kind of a husband would it be, huh!" he wondered, "though I question if there is any husband at all or she was just bluffing."

"Yeah I know right?" you didn't know what to say. "Though it was really impressive the way you handled them, I could never!"

He laughed at that. Sounded so heavenly, your knees kind of gave out.

And it was another day when he saved you. Why does he do that for you? Why was he here here so early? Why does he even try to get to close to you?

These are questions you do not have the answers to yet. You hope to get them someday. But you are happy they you are right now. Or maybe you are too afraid that the answers to these questions wouldn't be what you'd like to hear. Maybe he was just being nice and you being a horndog took the hint wrong way.

But for now, you have all the time (45 mins max before some other employee comes) to enjoy this moment with him alone in the closed restaurant, surrounded by the smell of food and his cologne and you have no idea which you like better. You wouldn't have it any other way.

masterlist | fin.

#yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenario #yoongi sfw #manager yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoonfi hurt/comfort #yoongi angst #yoongi fic

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quillsanddaydreams · 3 years ago

Text

teddy bear

fred weasley x reader

—author’s note: I really have no explanation for this except that I saw an old fic of mine and the idea just struck. This is a re-imagined version of 'don't say goodbye' from my main i.e. @with-love-anu Fred had been spending lesser and lesser time with you every day and you couldn't take it anymore.

—warning(s): mentions of food and drinks, break up, angst but it's hurt and comfort, low-key descriptions of anxiety attack. gender neutral!reader (pronouns haven't been used throughout the story)

—wordcount: 2,190

The fire crackled orange and gold, painting the dark walls. You were sitting right beside the mantle looking at the wall ticking. It was 11:35pm. Fred should’ve been home hours ago.

Tilting your head, you ran your thumb through the sharp edge’s of the photo frame. Friendly— happy faces smiled back at you. It was you and Fred from your 6th year. He had an arm around you, kissing your cheek before winking at the camera. Oh you remembered that day. Vividly. The two of you had just started dating after months of pining. Fred had been an absolute sweetheart. One date led to the next and you didn’t realise you two had spent years together. From graduating from hogwarts, to working your way up on your jobs, moving in together… You were madly in love and nothing else seemed to have mattered.

Everything looked great. Looked. Your parents often told you about ichs. A common rash. Ignore it and it will go away. Scratch it, and it will make your life hell. They never told you however, how long it takes. And you had been shutting your eyes to this one far too long. Fred was never there. Never. Both of you had jobs. Demanding jobs. Yet it seemed Fred was the only one without a moment to spare.

Your morning began with you getting up and ready for your day. Freshening up, making breakfast for the two of you— storing Fred’s with a quick warming spell and a note because you knew you’ll be gone by the time he woke up. Never having the heart to rouse him you simply smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead, apprating to the ministry. When you came back, he would still be at the shop, working late into the night. Exhaustion caught you, you were unable to keep yourself from falling asleep after 12.

Heaving a sigh, you pushed your head back staring at the ceiling above. The thing was that you missed him. Terribly. You couldn’t even remember the time he held you, let alone ask about your day— it had been months. There had been a hundred times, sitting alone having dinner or seeing his side of the bed empty. Loneliness caught with you reminisened all the times he would pull you over his lap, pressing kisses all over your face. Telling you about the newest invention at his shop. All confrontations with him about the same had ended the same way. With him promising he would try. He never did.

Glancing at the clock again, you felt your body grow hot with anger. It was nearly midnight. You had left him a note to come home early that day. Promotion at work had flashed like the perfect occasion to catch up. Happiness had been bubbling through you all day. Although as time passed, your excitement dulled. The food turned cold and ice in the firewhiskey bucket had melted. Your eyes pricked with tears as you felt your stomach churn. There was a pop as the door opened to reveal a disheveled Fred. He gave you a small smile before moving straight towards the bedroom.

“Fred,” you called out, clearing your throat and wiping away the tears. Did he really not notice? “Did you get my note?”

“Hmm?” he said, shuffling through his drawer. “Oh! Yes I did, sorry but work came up love, couldn’t make it.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Work?” you asked, agitated. “What work keeps you out until midnight Fred?”

His answering sigh infuriated you further.

“You need to change your work schedule, Fred,” you said, crossing your arms. “George comes back to Angelina before 8. I’m sure you can manage before 9. I don't see you Fred. I don't get to talk to you or spend a moment with you. It's like I'm living alone— I spent more time with you before we moved in!”

Fred squeezed his eyes shut, tired.

“I’ll try, I promise,” he said after a minute. “Let’s eat first, shall we?”

“No, Fred. You promise me that every time,” you hissed. “I want you to tell me you’ll be home tomorrow before 9. Like a normal person.”

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Fred snapped. “I thought you would be more supportive of me and my business.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” you threatened. “I’ve been there for you every step of the way. What I am asking you is for you to take out some time for me. I need you to be there for me too!”

“Well excuse me for wanting to earn enough money for our future. For wishing you didn’t have to work to live a happy life.”

“Fred,” you said, your voice a dangerous whisper. “You know exactly how much I love my job. I’ve always been happy working. What has gotten into you? You were always so supportive of me!”

Something crossed Fred’s eye and he took a step back, shaking himself. He took a deep breath.

“Listen,” Fred said calmly. “It’s late now, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“When, Fred? When? In the morning, when you are asleep or at night which is the time right now?”

Fred remained silent. It felt like you were bursting. All the frustration, sadness and disappointment poured in.

“It hurts, Fred. It hurts and it feels like I’m alone in this. People ask me how we are doing and I don’t know what to tell them. I have no idea what’s going on with the person I live with. I don’t even know where our relationship is goin—”

“You know what?” Fred said, finally losing his cool, throwing his hands in the air. “If you feel so alone, maybe you wouldn’t find a difference if we even separate.”

You gasped.

“I’m going to give you a moment to take that back,” you hushed. Fred crossed his arms. “Think about it before telling me you meant it.”

“Listen, you know I put my work above anything else,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I’ve always wanted to be rich enough so people like Malfoy wouldn’t dare to insult me or my family. That shop. It’s my life. It’s everything that lets me afford the things I never could.”

“So the shop’s more important to you than having me stay?” you said, your throat heavy. Digging your nails into the palm of your hand you searched Fred’s face. The face you had fallen in love with, the one that didn’t quite meet your eyes now which forebode tears. No you couldn’t cry now. Not when he disregarded your job you had been so passionate about, not when his status in life was more important to him. When Fred didn’t say anything, you let out a dry laugh. Shaking your head you moved towards your wardrobe, your head thumping. You took out a couple of your clothes, money and some documents, packing up a bag. Fred stared at you wide eyed as you went for the door.

“What are you doing?” he demanded as you opened the door moving out.

“Well, since you don’t care if we separate and your shop is the only thing you’re living for; it only seems fair that I leave,” you said, furiously rubbing away the tear that fell down your cheek. “Oh and Weasley? I hope you become the wealthiest wizard in the country.”

The last thing you saw was Fred’s shook form before a familiar house came into view. Knocking on your best friend’s door, you wondered whether you should have taken a hotel. It was very late after all. Before you could turn back and leave, Ruhaan opened up. He looked sleepy but his expression changed on seeing you.

“Hey, are you alright? What’s the—”

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted. “I’ll crash on the couch... ”

Ruhaan wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leading you in.

“Of course you can,” he said as your throat felt heavy. “You’re always welcome here, what happened?”

“I… we broke up,” you croaked. Admitting things aloud often made things real. Stating your breakup to Ruhaan made you really assess the situation. Blood rushed to your head as you realised you really just left back someone you had loved for six long years. Still did. Your legs wobbled making you lose your balance but Ruhaan held you steady.

“I can’t believe it… I… love him…” you gulped.

“Let me first get you some tea,” he said, rubbing your sides.

-♡♡♡-

Fred was a mess. He fell on the floor with a thump, realising what happened moments ago. You left. The person he had loved all his life had left him. And it was his fault. All those months he had been trying to get the latest product to work. George had given up on it long ago knowing well how dangerous it was to work on. Yet he stood back, working extra hours determined to get it done. It made him lose sight of what was important, you. His heart constricted as he felt like he couldn’t breath. Hot tears fell down his cheeks as he let out a frustrated shout. He had finally lost everything.

For the next few days, Fred worked as an auto pilot. Numbness had caught up to him. He couldn’t bring himself to eat or sleep. Your thoughts plagued him. It was like he was watching your face fall as you moved out over and over again. The apartment felt devoid of spirit— dark and cold. Fred missed you, your smile as he sleepily joined you in bed, pulling you closer; your notes with little doodles telling him to take care… George vaguely knew about what happened, he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. Visits to your best friend’s place have always gone the same. Ruhaan told him you weren’t there.

Fred wanted— needed you. He loved you. Always did. And he would be damned if he failed to show you. Again. Washing his face, he apparated to Ruhaan’s door again. Biting the inside of his cheek, he waited as a familiar face came into view sighing on spotting him.

“Fred,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve told you…”

“Please,” he said, cutting him off. “Please, I know what I’ve done. Terrible won’t start to describe it. Just give me a chance to talk. I won’t push. I won’t. I am really ashamed of the things I did. At least let me make it right…”

Ruhaan searched his face, mentally debating with himself. Fred was pleading, begging. He would do anything to make this right.

“Alright, don’t screw this up,” Ruhaan said, ushering him in directing him towards your room. “The first door on the right.”

Fred nodded, moving briskly to where he indicated. Heart pounding, he knocked. Your voice came throaty, calling him in. When he saw you, his breath caught up. You looked terrible. Dark circles under red puffy eyes, nestled up in blankets. Noticing him, you sat up straighter.

“I told Ruhaan I didn’t want to see you,” you muttered. Fred moved to sit beside you. You looked away.

“I…” he began, not finding the correct words. “I brought this for you…”

He fished out a small box out of his pocket, handing it to you. It transformed into a teddy bear as the pack touched you, splaying itself over your hand like a rock. You narrowed your eyes at Fred.

“I’ve been working on this in secret for the last six months,” he rasped. “A teddy bear for blue days. The more I worked on it, the stiffer it became. I could not imagine what exactly I was doing wrong. I tried charming it, transforming it, twisting and twerking it around...”

“Fred,” you said, cutting him off. He blinked as streaks of heavy tears fell down his cheek.

“I was so fucking angry and determined to make it work that I couldn’t see anything else than that,” he sobbed. “I’ve said and done things that I couldn’t forgive myself for. I’ve made promises I never followed and I’ve let you go. I… I know that there is no reason for you to even hear me out right now. But I can’t lose you. I can’t… I can’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to have you back but I don’t want to say goodbye to the best thing in my life. Please. You don’t have to excuse me but give me one opportunity to make it up to you.”

You inhaled sharply.

“You’ll come home before 9?” you asked.

“At seven everyday.”

“You’ll spare time for me?”

“Dates every other weekend.”

“You’ll cook everything for the next 3 weeks?” you said as Fred let out a breathy chuckle.

“Only your favourites.”

You looked at his face, wet from crying. Eyes praying for your answer.

“You’ll kiss me right now?” you said as a dull surprise crossed his face. He cradled your face, kissing you softly. You closed your eyes, body relaxing for the first time in days.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice low. You held his hand, squeezing it.

“I know.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

#fred #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #fred x reader #fred x you #fred x y/n #from anu's quill #hp #harry potter #george weasley

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dimplesandfierceeyes · 2 years ago

Note

Top 5 Sentences or paragraphs you have written! 😊 or if that is too hard top 5 stories you’ve written! 🖋

Ok so I tried, I really tried, but I just couldn't do it haha, top sentences or even top paragraphs was too hard! So I just had to go with my top 5 stories instead...

music is not in the notes, but in the silence between them

This is the longest story I've ever written, I honestly never thought I could write long-form fics, I always got bored or discouraged or ran out of steam/ideas. I thought I wasn't cut out to be a writer really because I didn't have the drive.

This fic taught me that I had been wrong all along and all I need was a little encouragement and someone to talk through my blocks with. The potential was there, I just needed a little help. Plus I'm always gonna have a special place in my heart for my dancing babies.

The Supreme Art of War Is to Subdue the Enemy Without Fighting

It's definitely not my most popular but I really enjoyed writing this, I liked doing the research and finding out more about the history behind it, even if it's by no means comprehensive.

Someone pointed out on my Space AU with that fic and this, that I've created a "enemies find themselves in a quiet oasis and end up together against all odds" genre for my fics and actually I realised they're exactly right. I think what I love about enemies-to-lovers stories is that they all stem from that idea that if we could all just free ourselves from stereotypes and prejudices, there could be whole lot more love and understanding in the world.

I know no other way of loving but this

Ok, but I love this little angst fest, it was non-canonical within an hour of me posting it and ok, I know I had a feeling that P'Aof was clowning us with the ending of ep11, but I couldn't resist a 'what if', what if these boys really had broken up, what if they'd really separated themselves until the end of uni, what if this was the first time they saw each other again? I can't resist the feels, my friends, I just really can't.

A Soft Boy in Soft Sweaters

Ahhhh this fic. I'd only been writing again for a few weeks after years of writing nothing but marketing copy and crappy magazine articles when I started this fic. It was meant to be small, a couple of thousand words at most, and inspired by my realisation that practically every piece of clothing Pran owns is tactile, it's made to be touched. I think it was maybe a decision to show that he is the softer of the two, the more emotionally vulnerable one, but I couldn't help but equate it with Pat's extreme tactileness and well, a little headcanon was born and couldn't be stopped.

And as has become a theme with all my bad buddy fics, the damn thing just get growing haha, although now 5k is pretty tame compared to what I'm usually churning out, at the time it was a pretty big milestone for me.

He's No Romeo, or A Himbo's Brain Finally Catches Up With Itself

My first ever fic for this fandom. My first ever fic for years and I still love it, I love how ridiculously oblivious Pat is and I love that I actually wasn't that far off when his oh moment was gonna be. I wrote this as wishful thinking, never once believing we'd get a realisation this simple but then we got it and more. This show really broke every mould and I am exceedingly grateful for it.

Ahh oops, I rambled quite a lot on these... I hope you found it a little bit interesting at least! Sorry it's taken me so long to reply to your ask, I hope you don't mind <3

#asks #my top five #bad buddy #bad buddy fanfiction

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your-eternal-muse · 4 years ago

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Use Me (pt 1)

Part 2

A/N: Hello Everyone! This is my first ever fic that I've posted on this sight. I've been obsessed with Criminal Minds and Spencer Reid since the beginning of quarentine, so might as well put the obsession to good use! I hope you like it, and I am planning on posting a part 2 within the next couple days! Enjoy! (Also, I wrote and edited this on mobile so if the formating is weird I'm sorry)

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Character/Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abduction, nonconsensual drug use, mentions of drugs, swearing, dirty thoughts

Words: 1.6k

Beta: My good Friend Erin!

I'm burning.

My skin feels like flames are crawling up my arms and my legs shake with every uneven step I take.

Sweat coats my brow, and my stomach churns as the world spins around me.

All because of the hand resting on the nape of my neck, which belongs to the unsub dubbed "the wizard" by the public.

He has a habit of abducting women, injecting them with some weird mix of drugs, and leaving them to fend for themselves.

Only one has been fatal.

Let's hope that statistic stays that way.

He pushes me forward, and I only vaguely know where we are.

My mind is in shambles, able to think about one thing and one thing only.

Spencer.

Every inch of him is infecting my mind, making my core pulse like it never has before.

Every image that flashes through my mind creates a dirty chain reaction.

I've had fantasies before, but god, they don't come close to the ones running through my mind.

I swallow, and wrap my arms around myself.

"What did- What did you put in me, you bastard?"

He chuckled behind me.

"Something to kick your little crush on the doctor into something more. Call it a love potion."

"How the fuck-"

But I wasn't able to finish my sentence before he shoved me up a flight of stairs.

I trip, falling onto my knees, my palms digging into the stone of the steps.

He grabs the collar of my jacket and drags me up the stairs, letting me go once we reach the top.

I slump against the railing, trying to catch my breath.

He leans down, and pins something to my shirt.

I try to focus on his face, but it's dark, and my mind won't cooperate.

"Have fun."

He stands, ringing the doorbell of an apartment, before walking away.

I try to stand, to go after him but he's gone before I can stabilize myself onto my legs.

And then I hear the door creak open, and a voice speaks out.

"Hello?"

How the hell can one word ruin me?

"Sp-Spencer?" This is hell. How can I be around him like this? How did the unsub even find out?

"Y/N? Are you okay? What happened?"

He opens the door, and the light behind him basks him in an ethereal glow.

He comes towards me, worry creasing his face as he places his hands on my upper arms.

Even through two layers of clothing, the touch alone sends sparks up my skin.

I bite my tongue to hold back a moan.

"He got me." It's hard to breathe right, with him standing so close to me. My breaths are ragged and shallow.

"He got me, and he injected me with something, and then he brought me here."

He pulls me behind him as his hand rests on his gun, which is still situated on his hip from the work day.

His eyes scan the street, and when he finds no one, he turns around, and ushers me into the building.

He's behind me, a hand placed gently on my lower back to keep me steady as he leads me towards his apartment.

God what I wish those hands would do to me.

Those long, slender fingers move faster and faster within me, curling around that pretty little spot until-

I stop, putting a hand out to steady myself against the wall, a pained moan leaving my throat. Sweat drips down my temple.

"What did he do to you?"

His eyes raked up and down my body, obviously profiling me, trying to figure out what was going on.

"I don't know." I say through gritted teeth. "But it feels like my body is on fire."

He nods, and within a few seconds we’re entering his apartment.

I run my hands through my hair and rub my face.

This isn't helping.

I'm surrounded by him.

Everytime I breathe, I can smell his musk, the natural scent of Spencer.

I shed my jacket, trying to cool off, but it only helps for a second.

The heat is radiating from inside me.

I sit on his couch and put my head in my hands, my leg bouncing as I try to distract myself from the impossible.

The leather is cool against my back, as he pushes into me, his kisses feverish, his hands roaming.

I want to cry.

This is borderline painful.

"We need to get you to the hospital."

Shit that's the last thing I need. My team, let alone anyone seeing me all hot and bothered like I've never been before.

Yeah. No.

I shake my head.

"No. God no. I know how to make it go

away, I just-"

I take a shuddery breath.

"I just need to be alone."

"I'm not leaving you, y/n. You're obviously in pain."

God fucking damnit.

He rests on his knees in front of me, and his hand lays on my lower thigh.

God, of course his hands have to be right fucking there, god damnit.

If only he knew he was making it worse.

"Can you at least explain to me what you're feeling?"

Fuck.

Double fuck.

But what the hell am I supposed to do? He's a genius, he'd figure it out eventually.

His words are laced with worry and care, and his eyes are soft.

I couldn't say no to him, even if I wanted to.

I take a breath and clasp my hands together to keep them from shaking.

"Um, I'm really hot, like really hot. Uh,"

My pussy is pulsing with every breath I take.

"I can't focus. I'm shakey."

I swallow.

"I'm thirsty."

That's the understatement of the century.

He's looking at me, but I know he's in his head, trying to narrow down what could possibly be in my system.

But my answers were vague. They could be the symptoms of any number of narcotics.

I run my hands over my jeans, and stand, walking over to his windows.

"Fuck."

If I don't tell him, he's just going to keep worrying.

Here goes nothing.

"I'm horny, okay? I'm beyond horny."

When I turn to face him, he's standing with his hands in his pockets, red covering his cheeks. "Oh."

I groan, planting my face into my hands.

"This wasn't supposed to happen, at least not like this. He found out, I don't know how but he did, and now I'm here, horny as all hell, embarrassing myself with every second that passes and-"

"What did he find out?"

I pause for a moment, going over the words that had just left my mouth.

Shit.

Play dumb.

"What?"

He walks towards me, stopping in front of me to reach up and rip something from my shirt.

"Use me."

Please don't say that right now.

He turns it in between his fingers, to show me the note.

If my face wasn't already flushed, I'm sure it would have been.

"Please, y/n, tell me."

I could cry.

I really could.

I close my eyes, not wanting to look at him when I speak it into truth.

My hands were clenched so hard, my nails were sure to leave crescent moons on my palms.

"He found out, that," I bite my lip, and groan. "He found out that I like you. A lot more than as friends, okay? I don't know how but he did.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, before crossing my arms and staring at the ground.

"When I asked him why, he said it was to kick my crush on you into something more." I scoff, shifting my weight from foot to foot. "He called it a fucking love potion."

It's silent in the room.

I can hear the seconds pass by the clock resting on his wall.

I can feel his eyes on the side of my face.

"Let me help you."

His voice is soft, yet louder than I was expecting, and his fingers trail lightly up my arm.

That's when I look at him.

I shake my head.

"No. No, I can't let you do that. That's not fair to you. You're only doing because you feel like you have to and I can't do that t-"

"Y/n," his hand comes up to cover my mouth, and his eyes are darker than I've ever seen them.

God is it hot.

He wears a small smirk where his smile used to sit, and when he speaks, his voice is lowered.

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to, now would I?"

It wasn't a question like he had phrased it, oh no. It was a statement. One that told me he wanted it just as much as I did.

If you had told me this morning, that by the end of the night, I would have Spencer Reid offering to fuck drugs out of my system, I would have laughed in your face.

But right now, it was taking everything in me not to jump his bones.

His hand moves from my mouth, his fingers brushing hair out of my vision, tucking it behind my ear.

I stare, wide eyed at him, hands shaking as I reach up and wrap my hand around his wrist.

"Is that what you want me to do? You want me to fuck it out of you?"

I know this is exactly what the unsub wants.

I know we're falling right into his trap.

But god damn it, I want this too.

I want this so bad.

This is my decision.

I nod my head.

"Use your words."

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I nearly gasped, "Yes, I want you to fuck me."

"Good girl."

#mathew gray gubler #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #cm #cm x reader #mgg #mathew gray gubler smut #dr. spencer reid

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

Text

Callisto (Arrival - Bit 2)

Prologue Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Arrival - Bit 1 | Bit 2

Well, these posts seem to be getting longer. I’m pondering if I should make them shorter and more often.

As always, many thanks to @tsarinatorment @scribbles97 @janetm74 and @onereyofstarlight for their amazing support and who without putting up with my crazy this fic would likely not exist.

We are finally there and things can start happening. Wow, planning makes for longer fics apparently.

I hope you enjoy it ::hugs you all::

-o-o-o-

As the rest of the family exited the cockpit, Michael watched John deploy the last of the long chain of communication buoys into orbit around Callisto and held his breath.

The space monitor was frowning at his console as they both waited for that final connection to click into place.

A moment and John’s face relaxed.

And Michael with it.

His own board flashed up with a connection confirmed through the chained micro-tunnel drives.

John hit his comms. “Tracy Island, this is Thunderbird Excel. Do you copy?”

They waited.

A heartbeat.

“Thunderbird Excel this is Tracy Island. Great to hear your voice, John.” Even Michael could hear the smile in Kayo’s voice. “I have a lot of green and pretty lights here. Send me the tests and I will bounce them back.”

“Sending now.” John’s fingers darted across his board and Michael watched the system take on the workload and churn data all the way back to Earth. “And I must say, Kayo, it is lovely to hear your voice, too.”

“Looking forward to hearing yours often. Data incoming. Will apprise results.”

“Looking forward to it, Thunderbird Excel out.” John’s fingers flicked again and the comms signal closed.

“Thunderbird Excel?” Michael arched an eyebrow at the astronaut.

John shrugged. “Well, I think she’s earned it now, don’t you?”

“Mmmm.” He looked back down at his board. The thought of having contributed to creating an actual Thunderbird...

He was startled when a shadow passed over his hands. “You’ve done well, Michael. Thank you.”

He looked up at the red-headed Tracy floating beside him. John was an enigma. He was a brother like any Tracy, but unlike the eldest who hated him with a passion that saw no border, John was quiet, even kind. Michael had been working alongside Brains and John and occasionally the youngest, for over a year now, and while he doubted he and John would ever be close friends, there was a mutual respect.

Plus, the distinct feeling that if Michael ever laid a finger on any of John’s brothers ever again, he would not survive the attempt.

It was definitely the quiet ones who should be worried about.

Not to mention Eos.

Michael really wished he could get his hands on that piece of code.

But again, he felt that it would be his last action in this universe.

Not that John had ever threatened him.

He didn’t need to.

“Are you feeling okay?” Turquoise eyes were peering down at him.

“I am well. No need to worry.”

The astronaut smiled. “Good. Monitor the comm network and liaise with Brains regarding the T-Drive’s performance. Let’s see if we can cut down on the jumps on the way back. I’d prefer to go through as little of the nausea as possible.”

“Agreed.”

John arched an eyebrow and his lips curled up. “I’ll be in Thunderbird Five assessing the danger zone and coordinating with Thunderbird Three.”

“FAB.”

The astronaut stared at him for just an extra moment longer before pushing off Michael’s console and throwing himself towards the cockpit exit.

“Thank you, John.”

A flicker of a smile and the last Tracy disappeared through the door, leaving Michael alone.

-o-o-o-

Virgil hated the IR spacesuits. They were far too tight and left nothing to the imagination.

Also, the red baldrics clashed horribly with his green stripe enough to rip his eyeballs out.

But although his standard uniform was satisfactory for short forays into space, it was not enough for a space mission of this magnitude as it did not have the survival and safety mechanisms needed in an emergency. So, here he was dressed like some kind of spandex wearing superhero, his heavy lifting muscles providing a great anatomy lesson to any within eyesight.

“Looking good, Virg.” Gordon’s eyes were laughing.

“Shut up, Fish.” The aquanaut was used appearing all but naked in front of thousands. Hell, Virgil had nothing to be ashamed of, it was just difficult to keep a straight face in a professional capacity.

How the hell John lived in one of these things was a mystery Virgil had no interest in exploring.

The alternative was wearing something like Alan’s spacesuit, but that had its own issues regarding his exosuit and despite the...exposure, this was the best option.

At least he had a little security with the addition of his exosuit support padding and his harness – never leave home without it. That and his baldric covered a little of his modesty.

Didn’t stop his brothers’ comments though.

Alan actually snorted in laughter.

Scott raised an eyebrow, but then their commander was dressed the same and, much like John, was giving the Greek gods a run for their money in the process.

Virgil felt like a dwarf from The Lord of the Rings. What was his name? Gam? Gim? Gimli? Standing next to that bleached elf.

Virgil grunted. “Let’s do this, already.”

Okay, the grin on Scott’s face was both worth it and damned annoying.

Dad had chosen a version similar to Alan’s suit. Due to his health concerns, Virgil had recommended extra support with arm guards and greaves built into his boots. He had glared at Virgil, but Virgil was a Tracy and just as stubborn as his father and if he wanted to go on this mission he could damn well meet him halfway.

Dad wore the protection.

They had Uncle Lee’s ‘space skivvies’ measurements on file and the IR fabricators had churned out an IR uniform echoing their father’s. Considering the astronaut’s skillset, Virgil had coloured his baldric stripe as green as his own and thrown in some of his own kit.

The colour combination still ripped out eyeballs.

Thunderbird Three was nestled into the Excel much like she had been into the XL, but higher up, leaving the massive thrusters behind her and nestling instead of providing the main superstructure of the craft.

To compensate for the loss of One and Two, the Excel now had a third engine on her dorsal plane to offset the two massive pectoral lightspeed engines. Together the three engines provided the huge ion thrust needed to propel them vast distances. And when the T-Drive was required, the third would go dark, the original two engines would flare up and give him his next case of nausea.

Three still connected with Five for extra stability, but she was no longer mandatory for the Excel. Where the XL had basically been an exosuit for Three to break the lightspeed barrier, the Excel was now more Five’s exosuit as she was the one Thunderbird the Excel needed to operate at her best.

Johnny’s ‘bird now had wings.

Very, very big ones.

The cockpit was crowded but quiet as Alan smoothly disengaged Three from the bigger craft, spinning her in space and pointing her towards the moon.

Virgil shifted in his suit, uncomfortable as hell. Not enough to be world ending, but annoying. Beside him, his father glanced in his direction with a concerned frown.

“Are you okay, son?”

That, of course, prompted an equally concerned frown from Scott in front of him.

“I’m fine.” It wasn’t a complete lie, he could live with the suit. His arm was still aching and his stomach had yet to forgive him despite the food he had shoved into it, but he could probably get away with that.

The worst of it was the lack of sleep.

Scott’s eyes were far too knowing.

The medic in him knew that they were going into a potentially dangerous situation. Hell, they were in space right now, not exactly Tracy Island’s pool patio for relaxation. They needed to be alert and ready.

He had tried to sleep. He had sent all of his brothers to nap during the voyage out here. But he doubted any of them managed much.

He certainly hadn’t.

Scott knew because Virgil could see it reflected in those blue eyes of his. He still looked worn, though he tried to hide it, ever the professional.

Dad.

Dad was still looking at him with questioning eyes.

Virgil sighed. “I’m just tired. I can manage.”

Those lips pressed together, obviously displeased.

Typical.

His father was so like Scott in so many ways that having both of them to contend with on this mission was going to send Virgil grey.

It was okay for them to go out on a limb, risk their lives for the greater good, but if someone they cared about did the same, they were all worry and you can’t do that.

As if to emphasize that thought, his father’s frown fixated on Scott. Virgil followed his gaze, but from his angle could only see the back of his brother’s head.

Another glance at his father and the concern was clearly there.

Perhaps something was starting to sink into Dad’s head. Maybe he was realising what he was risking.

Who he was risking.

Three shook a little as she breached the minimal atmosphere of the moon. Alan was muttering orbital calculations. Each large planetary body was different and required a catered approach.

The Base had sent vectors and the conditions that constituted ‘weather’ on the barren moon, but there were many firsts in this mission and this was one of them.

For the benefit of the rest of them, Alan threw up a hologram of their approach.

The massive crater known as Asgard swelled on the screen. It was very bright, even in the weak sunlight. Probably ice. To the north of it lay an even brighter splash of white, rays extending out across the heavily cratered surface for miles.

As they sank, the horizon formed in a sharper curve than Virgil was used to. Sharper than Mars which was the only other planetary body beyond Earth’s Moon Virgil had ever set foot on.

“There it is.” Alan, ever enthusiastic in his element, pointed out a spot quickly growing on the display. “Callisto Base.”

It was a white cross with a massive airlock at its centre. Surrounding the arms of the cross was machinery, storage tanks and energy production facilities. It shone ever so bright, like a blunted star plastered on the side of the moon.

As they drew closer, the Tracy Industries logo could be seen branded across the airlock doors.

The base was a massive endeavour. Almost entirely underground taking advantage of a small crater in the Doh crater wall, it had capped the landform and sealed off the space creating a series of caverns to house the transport ships moving between the Base and the Jefferson or any other destination they chose.

Entirely self-sufficient, TI’s hydrogen technology gave it power, TI’s heavy duty excavation equipment gave them the power to dig the base out of the rock and ice. It had helped to find unexpected caves under the surface. All and all the Base was a robust structure, protecting its fifty-odd inhabitants from the hazards of living on an exposed and radiated moon.

“Callisto Base, Thunderbird Three requesting permission to dock.” Virgil was suddenly irrationally proud of his little brother.

Commander Walters answered immediately. “Permission granted Thunderbird Three. Hold in the airlock for repressurisation and permission to proceed.”

“FAB, Callisto Base.”

“One of these days, Jeff, you are going to tell me what that means.”

Both Alan and their father snorted.

As they approached, the big airlock doors slowly began to open, splitting the TI logo in half. The hologram stayed fixed on their destination, but Three pivoted her nose to the darkness of the sky bringing the ever-hovering presence of Jupiter back into view through Three’s windows. Alan flicked a wrist and the Thunderbird started lowering into what was now a gaping maw below.

Three slipped into the airlock and the doors closed behind them.

-o-o-o-

Alan was a professional, but he had to admit that he was internally bouncing around in joy. The air was still thick with tension, his family caught up in this thing with Dad, but Alan was doing his best to ignore it and focus on his job.

And oh my god, he was landing on his second moon of Jupiter! This had to be a first. He could go down in history as the first person to land on several moons, another planet and multiple random comets and asteroids.

Okay, so Virg and Scott had been with him, even Gordon on Europa – that had been one hell of a mission that still gave him both dreams and nightmares – but he had been the only one to land on all of them.

Alan Tracy, astronaut extraordinaire. He couldn’t help but grin as the airlock repressurised and the Callisto Commander finally gave him permission to land.

He slowed his ‘bird to a perfect touchdown as the secondary airlock doors closed above him.

He killed her engines and let her begin her cool down sequence.

The whole cockpit sighed a little in relief. A pause as if to reset and then everyone was moving.

-o-o-o-

Gray Walters rubbed the back of his neck as Thunderbird Three coasted smoothly from the decontaminating airlock into the main hangar. The pilot of that ‘bird had to be a Tracy. The huge red rocket barely fit nose to tail with only inches to spare between the two massive sets of doors. After all, they had never expected such a large craft needing to dock.

He had Kate to thank for arguing the hangar’s size...with Ju backing her up as usual.

The thought of his wife froze him for a split second. Ju was going to be okay. Jeff was here now. He had always been their good luck charm. Hell, the guy had survived eight years in space alone. Ju could manage a few days.

Couldn’t she?

“She’s docked.” Mary, his second, looked up from her station. “Shall I shunt her into a bay?”

“Leave her in central for now. We’re not going anywhere and they may need to leave in a hurry.”

“That will piss Benji off.”

“Benji can stew. His team still has a week left of their Jefferson rotation.”

“He will cite regs.”

Gray turned away. Let him cite regs. “This is an emergency and takes priority.” He sighed. “Run decon in the central core. Anyone not crucial to this operation is to steer clear of International Rescue. Lock off environmental systems. Keep the two crews contained to keep the risk of contamination as low as possible. We can’t afford an accidental bug in the system.”

“Will do.” She paused before bringing up the topic he knew she would. “What about Jeremiah?”

“What about him?”

“You need to tell them.”

“One thing at a time, Mary.”

“But-“

“First we find Kate and Ju.” He swallowed. They had to find Ju.

They had to.

-o-o-o-

Stepping onto a new world was never as grand as it appeared. Hell, landing on Mars for the first time had been a trip over his own toes’ moment.

Stepping onto Callisto was no different.

It was Scott who grabbed him before he could flip head over heels across the gantry. Changes in gravity always took time to get used to and less than twenty-four hours ago, it had been Earth oppressive.

Callisto gravity was a relief…if a little disorientating.

His eldest’s strong grip wrapped around his arm and held tight. Jeff looked over at Scott and was pinned with such worried bright blue eyes that his heart clenched.

All the tension, the argument, the resistance to his presence on this mission boiled down to the emotion in those eyes.

Love.

And fear.

Scott was terrified.

Jeff did it without thought or care for what anyone would think. He grabbed his son and yanked him into a hug, holding him close. The squawk across comms and the scrape of their helmets against each other did nothing to stop him.

“I’m sorry, son.”

“Uh...”

Scott’s arms wrapped around him, ever so hesitantly.

That hesitation hurt almost as much.

He clung that much tighter.

“Dad?” It was breathless.

He clung a second longer, but… Yes...right.

It was a moment stolen.

Because they were on a mission.

Jeff let Scott go.

His son pulled away slowly, not quite fully releasing him, and again those blue eyes were fixated on him in worry.

So much worry.

“You okay, Dad?”

Jeff straightened with more ease than he had managed in a long time and became aware of all the other eyes on him.

The ever-present echoes of Lucille’s beautiful brown eyes were assessing him. That was a given. But another two pairs of blue and a frowning fishy amber had him targeted as well.

He looked at each of them before turning back to the massive cavern around them. A mix of rock wall, structural support and storage, the docking cavern was lit with strong lighting, the red of Three reflecting on patches of frozen water embedded in the walls.

They were standing on a walkway that had been extended out to Three’s hatch. It was obviously of variable height and length and Jeff couldn’t help but admire the design.

He wondered who was responsible.

He wondered if it was Kate.

Her green eyes smiled at him at the back of his mind.

His lips pressed together as his sons and brother-in-law continued to shoot concerned expressions in his direction.

A breath.

“Let’s do this.” And he led them out and into Callisto Base.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Alan Tracy #Jeff Tracy #John Tracy #the mechanic #callisto #Gordon Tracy

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sunflowersunshinevol6 · 4 years ago

Text

Crawl Before You Walk

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Warnings: partying, drinking, forced kiss

Summary: Y/N has been friends with the Styles siblings for years. But when Y/N asks Harry for kissing lessons, their entire friendship is put on the line.

A/N: Harry is older in this fic than Gemma

I walk right into the Styles household. I’ve been friends with the Styles siblings since our day care days and it was never a problem for me to just come by after school for dinner or to hang out, their parents practically raised me, they’re more of a family to me than my own family.

And that’s why I came over today. I need advice. Some help.

Harry Styles, is a senior, he’s like a big brother, one of my best friends, anytime Gemma and I get into some sort of shenanigans he’s there. Even though I’m about a year younger than him, we’ve bonded. I knock quietly on the door to his room, unsure if he’s even home.

“It’s open,” I hear him call from inside, I push the door open to find him lying on his bed, no shirt on, sweat pants hanging low on his hips. He’s got one arm propped behind his head, the other reading some play. He looks up at me and smiles softly. “Hey Y/N. Gem will be home in a few. You can hang out if you want.” I sit on the edge of his bed, dropping my bookbag.

“Actually….I’m here to see you,” He sets the book down on his chest, raising his eyebrow slightly.

“Me?”

“Yeah.” He sits up, crossing his legs indian style.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks. I feel my cheeks heat up, this is so embarrassing.

“There’s this...there’s this boy I like.”

“Oh yeah?” he says, nudging me in a teasing manner, I relax, I can do this.

“He wants to take me out on a date.”

“So what’s the problem,” I bite my lip, hesitant to continue. “You can tell me,” he coaxes. I take a deep breath.

“I’ve never been kissed before.” I say finally. I can’t bare to look at him, to embarrassed. “I wanted to ask you if maybe...maybe you could teach me?”

“Teach you how to kiss?”

“Well you’ve had lots of girlfirends-”

“I wouldn’t say ‘lots’-”

“So you have experience. I have none.” he sighs, running his hand over his face. I feel awkward, my hands begin to sweat as I wait for his answer.

“You really like this kid huh?” I nod.

“A lot. I don’t want to mess this up.” He’s quiet for a moment longer, I debate whether or not to just tell him it’s a joke and to forget it.

“Okay." he startles me. I didn’t think it’d be that easy.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just this once.” he adds. I grin, he scoots back towards his headboard and I swing my legs up onto the bed, folding them beneath myself.

“Thank you.” I say gratefully.

“Don’t mention it...Like ever, to anyone after this okay?” I nod and he scoots closer to me now, I can smell his cologne and deodorant, he smells really good. Clean. “Everyone is different. Some people are good kissers, some are bad-”

“I’m probably bad.”

“Quiet.” he scolds me, before continuing his lecture. “Like I said everyone is different….But if this guy...If he tries anything you don’t like, you have the right to say no. You can tell him to stop.” He reaches up, brushing his fingers over my cheek gently. “Come here,” he whispers, I lean in, our lips meere inches apart. “He looks me in the eye, his eyes flicker to my lips from time to time. I feel something strange begin to vibrate within me. “You feel that?” he breathes against my lips, his breath is cool, and smells minty, I shiver.

“Yeah.”

“Good. That’s a good sign.” slowly, tentativly, he presses his lips to mine. I don’t know what to do, I just sit there, letting his mouth move against mine, he pulls away, a small grin on his face. “You can kiss me back.”

“How?”

“Do what I do. Follow my lead,” I close my eyes this time as he brings his lips back to mine. I do what he says and move my lips against his, mimicking his actions. He reaches up, grasping the back of my head, the other hand gripping my lower arm. His lips are smooth and soft, pressing against mine over and over again. My hands grip the fabric of his sweats tightly. His tongue darts out, licking my bottom lip, I gasp and pull away.

“Wow.” I say breathlessly. “What was that?”

“I was asking you for entrance.”

“Entrance?”

“To your mouth. Always ask. It’s not polite to just shove your tongue down someone’s throat.” we chuckle together, I feel something wet grow between my legs, I look back at him.

“Can we try with tongue?” I ask.

“Sure. C’mere.” I’m back in his arms, he kisses me slowly before licking me again, I open my mouth wide, moaning as his tongue begins to massage and wrestle mine. I continue following his lead, doing what he does. He sucks my tongue into his mouth and I squirm, unable to handle the growing warmth between my legs. He grabs my hips and I move, coming to sit in his lap. I run my fingers through his hair as he rubs his hands up and down my back. I’m nearly panting and desperate for relief from the tension building in me. I roll my hips slightly, causing him to stiffen.

He pulls away too quickly, I chase his lips, only to open my eyes and see him grinning at me teasingly.

“You’re a good kisser.” he compliments.

“T...Thanks.” I stutter. “You are too.” we stare at each other, I’m still in his lap and I can feel something hard poking at me from his sweatpants. He reaches up to trace my bottom lip with his finger, I close my eyes again and lean into his touch.

“Y/N...Y/N I-”

“Hey Harry! I’m home.” Gemma calls as we hear the from door open. I jump up from Harry's lap, straightening my clothes, he leans back cooly, resuming his position from when I first walked in. Gemma opens the door without knocking.

“Oh Y/N you’re early.” I try to slow my pounding heart.

“Yeah. Harry said I could wait for you.”

“Well come on,” she nods towards the hallway, “I’ve got that dress for you to try on.” I pick up my book bag and follow her out of the room. Harry winks at me as I leave.

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

I dream about the kiss with Harry for days after it happens. I always wake up feeling wet between my legs and a faint throbbing feeling. I try to get off. I rub my skin raw, push my fingers in and out of myself. Nothing works. I work myself so hard I’m barely breathing, face nearly purple. But no matter what I do I can’t seem to get off. Still, the dreams persist.

I avoid Harry when I’m at his house. If we’re sitting at the dinner table I’ll converse with Gemma or his mom. I always duck into Gemma's room if I hear him coming down the hall. I don’t know if I’m embarrassed or scared. He doesn’t seem to notice my growing awkwardness. He goes about his day as though nothing happened at all.

“What is going on with you?” Gemma snaps me out of my head when she asks this. I look at her, she sits across from me, eating a nutella sandwich and studying me curiously.

“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to keep my voice normal. I take a bite of my apple sauce.

“You’ve been acting really weird all week. Always ducking into my room and hiding around the house….Do you have a crush on Harry?” I choke on my apple sauce, looking at her through watery eyes.

“No! Absolutely not!” she chuckles, taking a bite of her sandwich.

“Good. Cuz I was gonna say...gross.” I smile, but in the back of my mind I wonder if she would think that about me and Harry….Probably. We all did grow up together. “Seriously though,” she looks concerned now, lowering her voice. “Is it your dad again? Do you need to stay with us indefinitely like last time?” I stiffen, shaking my head.

A few years ago things got really, really bad with my parents. The police got involved and I was sent to live with the Styles while they got their shit together.

“No...I’m fine honest.” she doesn’t look like she believes me. I reach out and place my hand over hers. “I’m fine Gem. Honest.” she doesn’t push anymore, and we eat in awkward silence for a few minutes.

I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts, I nearly jump out of my skin when someone’s hands cover my eyes. “Guess who?” the voice asks. I can hear Gemma giggling across from me.

“Jeff Goldblum,” I guess. The person snickers, moving their hands and sitting down beside me. It’s Jake. I feel my stomach churn with butterflies.

“Damn. I wish I was Jeff Goldblum.” He high fives Dylan who’s sat beside Jas now, his arm around her. Jake’s focus is on me. He scoots close, he smells like Old Spice. “Haven’t seen ya around in a couple days.” I shrug my shoulders.

“I like to change my route to class. Keeps things interesting.” He smirks, his lips are soft and pink. Smooth. I wonder if they taste like Harry's. He notices my gaze and puts his finger under my chin, tilting my face up to look at him.

“Spontaneous. I like that….I got a question for you.” I can feel Gemma’s eyes on me, my heart is pounding, anxiety rolling over my shoulders.

“Yeah?”

“You wanna go to Dylan’s party Friday night? I can pick you up if you want.” I smile, feeling relieved and excited at the same time.

“Sure…” he grins. “I’d love to.”

“Yes.” he pumps his fist in the air. The bell rings, ending our lunch. I stand up and he takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, he brings them to his lips and kisses the back of my hand. His lips are really soft. They feel nice. “I’ll see you Friday night.” Gemma is jumping with excitement as we throw our trays away and head towards our next class.

Friday arrives almost too quickly. I haven’t actually spoken to Harry since the kissing lesson, but when I arrive at the Styles house he’s there, in the living room, on the phone.He hangs up as I come in.

“Hey,” I smile and make a bee line for Gemma’s room. “Wow. Wow. Wow.” He stops me, stretching his arm out to block my path. “What’s going on?”

“What?”

“You’ve been acting weird. Ever since….” he raises his eyebrows. I roll my eyes and scoff.

“You’re crazy. I am not-” he grabs my chin and brings my lips to his. My eyes close instantly as he wraps his arm around my waist. When he pulls away I think I see stars. “I thought you said kissing lessons only one time.” he smirks, his nose brushes mine.

“I changed my mind.” He pulls away from me, taking my hand in his. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” He pulls me towards the couch in the living room, I sit down beside him, sinking into the cushion. I pull my legs up under myself.

“We’re going to a party at Dylan’s tonight.”

“Jake taking you?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you kissed him yet?” I shake my head. He pats my knee reassuringly.

“Don’t be nervous. You’re a great kisser. It’ll be fine.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what is it?”

“What if he wants...you know...to do...more,” Harry's neck turns a light shade of pink, he clears his throat, shifting in his spot.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to Y/N.”

“I know that.”

“And if he tries to force you I will take care of that.” I smile at the thought of Harry protecting me. I shake my head.

“The thing is that I want to do it. I want to have sex and fall in love and make out and things like that,” Harry listens, his hand still on my knee, “But I can’t even get off on my own. How in the hell would I get a guy off?”

“It’s not that hard.”

“That’s what she said.” he grins at me, happy I got the joke. “I’m serious though. I can’t even masturbate right...Is there something wrong with me?”

“No. Some girls have trouble. There’s nothing wrong with that….What do you think about when you do it?” I’m surprised and pleased with the turn this conversation has taken, I really can talk to Harry about anything.

“I don’t know...I kinda just….go at it.” he chuckles now, covering his mouth with his hand. HIs eyes crinkle and his whole body shakes. “What?” I ask offended.

“You can’t just go at it….you need stimulation. To get turned on.”

“Oh.”

“So what turns you on?”

You. I think. I’ll never tell him that though. “I’m not sure.”

“What about the kissing….Did you feel anything when we kissed?” He’s looking at me the way he did when we first kissed. The first time he asked me if I felt something. I lick my lips, his eyes dart down and then back up to my eyes. I nod slowly.

“Yeah. I felt warm.”

“Aroused.” he says.

“Aroused.” It sounds like a foreign concept coming from my mouth, the way it rolls off my tongue.

“You’ll be fine. If you worry too much you won’t enjoy yourself.” he gets up from the couch and leans over me, pressing his lips to my forehead. I close my eyes, just being this close to him sends my stomach spinning. “If you need anything tonight. Even just a way out, call me. I’ll pick you girls up.” he drops his hand from me and walks away, leaving me alone on the couch.

Dylan has a nice house. It’s big, and packed with people. The smell of sweat and alcohol and weed fills the air. I stayed by Gemma’s side most of the night, following her and Dylan around the house. Until Dylan whispered something in her ear.

“Hey Y.N” Gemma pulls me to a corner and shouts in my ear. “I’m gonna go upstairs for a bit. You don’t have to wait for me.” I shake my head, waving her away, a druk couple stumbles past us. I hadn’t drank much at all tonight.

“It’s fine I’ll wait. Have fun.” she winks at me and follows Dylan up the stairs. I find my way back to the living room. I stand awkwardly off to the side, watching people smoke and drink and act like idiots. It’s pretty amusing, the things people will do when they’re drunk.

“Hey!” I feel a heavy arm drape over my shoulders. I look up to see Jake, smiling at me tipsily. His fingers brush over my bare shoulder. I’m wearing one of Gemma's dresses tonight. A sexy little off the shoulders black dress, it hugs my curves perfectly. “You enjoying yourself?” he asks. I nod my head and motion towards my ear, the music is loud, shaking the house with the base. Jake takes my hand, pulling me through the throngs of people, he leads me outside.

“Ah..That’s much better,” I say, taking a deep breath. Jake stands in front of me. His eyes rake over my body. It bothers me, the way he’s looking at me. He tosses his empty beer can to the side and places his hands on my hips, he tips his head down so our noses brush.

There’s no one around. Everyone else is inside, it’s a cold night. The wind raises the hairs on my flesh, giving me goosebumps. Not even Jake being this close can warm me.

“You’re fucking gorgeous. You know that?” He doesn’t give me a chance to reply. He grabs my chin roughly and slams his lips to mine. His kiss is hard and rough. I slap at his shoulders as he pulls me closer, forcing his tongue into my mouth.I can barely breathe, my mind begins to cloud, I squirm, trying to get away. But he has me in a vice grip. Panic seized me. He’s drunk and I’m alone, also quite a bit smaller than him. One of his hands slides down my back, barely brushing my ass. I shove at him, he staggers backwards, wiping his mouth. My mouth hurts and I’m shaking with fear.

“Y/N!” I turn and run as fast as I can, kicking Gemma's heels off as I go. I’ll buy her a new pair later.

My feet are sore and throbbing from pounding against the pavement, my body perspiring as I make my way up the steps to the Styles household. I’m exhausted, my adrenaline finally wearing off. I hope Jake isn’t mad at me. I think I overreacted. My mouth still hurts, I can still feel his slimy, tongue sliding down my throat. I grimace as I open the door and step inside quietly., The tv is on, someone’s up, I don’t pay attention to it.

“Y/N,” I take a step back as a shadowy figure emerges from the living room. Harry walks towards me, his eyes wide with alarm. He reaches out and I rush into his arms. I’m scared and confused and embarrassed. Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I thought every kiss would be like Harry's. I don’t know. Harry holds me close, rubbing my back and whispering to me soothingly.

“You’re safe Y/N. You’re safe.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #ahs imagine #hs one shot #hs1 #hs2

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odelschwanky · 4 years ago

Note

Could you do a fluff Byakuya fic

Take a Break (Byakuya Kuchiki x Reader)

This not my best, but I was happy to write it. I’m working my way out of writer’s block. Thank you for requesting. I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 2257

____________________________________________________

“Working late again, Captain?”

You poke your head into Byakuya’s office. The waning light of the late evening sun streamed in from the open door behind you. It cast your long shadow onto the tatami flooring, shading the man’s busy form. He sat dutifully, inked brush in his hand, looping and curving impeccable characters onto the pages. He held his sleeve regally, so he wouldn’t mess it. He finished his thought before he even thought to answer you. Even then, he didn’t look up.

“Yes. I normally always am.”

He sounded so tired. You didn’t like the way the dark circles made a home under his eyes. Your Captain’s mouth was set in a distinct frown as he stared down at the work he was doing. He still had his kenseikan in his hair which meant he didn’t have any plans of resting soon. You really wished he would relax. Maybe you could help with that.

You waited by the door, kneeling and sitting on your heels until Byakuya allowed you to enter.

“You don’t have to do that.” He murmurs in his even voice.

Byakuya didn’t require all of the superior-subordinate formality from you that he required from other people. He’d even go as far as allowing you to call him by his familiar name. You almost never did, though. You still thought your Captain deserved the proper respect. Deep down, you knew he appreciated it.

“Come in, (y/n).”

Once invited, you tiptoed inside the spacious room, leaving the sliding door open. You left your shoes outside on the porch, lightly scuttling in with bare feet. Byakuya’s sternness lessened a little when you sidled up beside him, hands clasped behind your back.

He would never admit it, but he loved when you came in to distract him from his work. Your bright smile and your lively aura always lifted his spirits. He loved the sight of you, inching playfully in to see him. You would come closer and closer until you were side by side. You always asked before you touched him, although it was never necessary.

“May I?” You lifted your hands to his scarf but waited to lay a single finger on it.

He looked over his shoulder at you before giving a slight nod. His thick black hair tumbled as you swept it gently aside. The masterful fabric of his scarf rubbed smoothly against you as you slipped it from his neck and piled it on the desk. You were mindful of the ink, setting the expensive piece of clothing far from it. Byakuya’s nape was a little red, and it only glowed more when you rested your fingers upon the cool skin of his neck. Tough muscles and stiffness made the tension in Byakuya’s body apparent to you.

“How was your day?” You quietly ask him.

The air in the room had freshened up since you opened the door. The gentle spring breeze danced in to tickle the more easily persuaded aspects of the room: your hair, clothes, and noses. Byakuya told you a little of what happened in his day, although he didn’t go into much detail.

To be honest, his day was tough. He had to discipline one of his subordinates, which pained him to do. There was a lot of paperwork that came with that. Also, he had duties pertaining to the other Royal Families of the Seireitei. He was working on those papers now. On top of all that, he was tired and hadn’t slept well the night before. The noble Head of the Kuchiki Clan wasn’t at his best. His poised and refined nature would’ve never let it show though. He kept it up, his aristocratic composure, especially around you. But you were one of the only people who could ease him.

“And your day?” His voice was deep when he echoed you. His eyes were closed, as he savored the way you worked on him. You shrugged, rolling your fingers firmly in the muscles of Byakuya’s neck and shoulders. He had let you peel back his haori just enough to see a small amount of his ivory skin. You smooth your hands over it, and his body relaxed as you touched him. You could feel him releasing all of that pent-up pressure in the form of a slight slouch. You were satisfied with that.

“It was fine.”

You hadn’t had the best day either but being here with your Captain was making everything better. You would spare him the details.

You leaned down until you were nose to nose with him, the fine hairs on his skin tickling you.

“Take a break?”

Your pleading eyes met your Captain’s. They were always so serious, so steely. His mouth wavered from that small tight line to a pair of parted lips, soft enough to kiss. He was going to try and protest, say that his work needed to be done.

“I can sit and watch you work a little later. Take a walk with me.”

He paused a long time. Byakuya Kuchiki loved nighttime walks.

“We can’t be too long.” You could swear you saw the hint of a smile on his face.

You shooed him away to take a minute while you put aside his inks and brushes, taking care that they would be ready for him when the two of you returned. You stacked the dry papers and held them with a paperweight while he put on his scarf once more and straightened his uniform from where you disturbed it.

“Come on,” you nearly skip out the door into the nighttime air. The sun had just barely set and the sky was tinted a rich purple. The cherry blossoms of the garden outside this part of Kuchiki Manor were twirling in the wind, falling like snow. You always loved coming to see the garden.

Byakuya follows with his usual refined regality. You wait in the middle of the stone path, some twenty feet away, while he closed the door to his office and steps off the porch.

“You’re not going to wear your shoes?”

You look down and shake your head. “No. Is that okay?”

Byakuya gingerly bites his lip and shakes his head, holding back an amused smile. He was probably thinking to himself how foolish you were. He never said anything so mean to you though. You’d heard him scold other people like Ichigo and Renji, and you were glad he was never so harsh to you.

“Yes. It’s fine. Just be careful.”

The two of you walked in silence, as you two normally did. The stones underfoot were so smooth on the bottom of your feet. They were still warm from the day’s sun. The suede finish of the cherry blossoms stuck to your feet too, and you loved the way they felt.

You approached a bench by a koi pond. You let your shihakusho blow open, teased by the breeze. Byakuya looks down at you, at your exposed shoulders and chest. Your uniform didn’t have sleeves like a lot of others did. You just never preferred them.

“You’re not cold?”

You shake your head. “No… not really. It feels nice out.” You stretch, looking at the tall dark-haired man beside you. He gives you another thoughtful glance as you two continued around the koi pond.

A cold gust of wind crossed the garden, carrying a reeking, damning smell. It made your stomach churn. You covered your nose and looked at Byakuya. “Do you smell that?”

He nodded, putting a hand on the hilt of his zanpakuto. A rustling in the bushes startled you.

You jumped a little, all the muscles in your body tensing up. Byakuya took a step in front of you, gently pushing you behind him. You peeked underneath Byakuya’s arm, trying to see what was going on.

A small Hollow emerged and slowly approached the place you stood with gnashing teeth.

“A Hollow, here?” You say, almost to yourself. That was almost taboo. You had never seen a Hollow in the Seireitei. Maybe in the forest, but never so close to somewhere like Kuchiki Manor.

“Hado number 4: Byakurai.”

Byakuya cast his Kido in an unimpressed voice that resonated throughout the garden with authority. He pointed his finger at the small furry creature, a flash of lightning shooting it straight in the face. It didn’t even have time to cry out before it was vaporized.

It was over almost as quickly as it began, and all that was left of it was a small pile of ash maybe ten feet away from you both.

“Are you okay?” Byakuya inquired of you, grabbing your elbow protectively. His fingers were surprisingly soft, and his touch was very gentle. He didn’t touch you often, you mostly did all the touching. You tried to hide your blush but didn’t pull your arm away.

“I’m fine… you took care of it. T-thank you.”

It was weirdly and awkwardly silent for a few moments.

Byakuya released you and nodded. “Do you want to go back?”

You shake your head. “No. Not if you still have time.”

Byakuya was quiet for a minute. “I have time.”

You look at him with eyes full of adoration. The nature of your relationship with Byakuya was so formal. You were sure nobody even knew you were together, Renji and Rukia maybe. They never talked about it though. When you spent time together with Byakuya, oftentimes you were alone. Like today.

You were fine with that. You didn’t need to use him as some publicity stunt, although it was pretty surreal that the Head of the Kuchiki Clan was in love with you. Other people might not view it that way, but you were sure of his feelings for you.

“Can I hu-”

Byakuya didn’t wait for you to ask before he pulled you into his arms. His touch and his hold were so sure, so safe. You drowned in his elaborate clothes, shihakusho, haori, and all. You breathed deeply the scent of him, and you seemed to relax. You didn’t realize how stressed you were until he hugged you. You needed his touch and he seemed to know exactly when to give it.

“Can you stay tonight?”

His unusual words caused butterflies to tear through your stomach like the cherry blossoms outside. You would have never expected him to ask you.

You were most often the one initiating things. You’d ask if he had time for you, to do things like taking walks or having dinner. He almost never refused you, only for the reason of a prior engagement pertaining to work. You were at the Kuchiki Manor more often than you were in your room at the barracks. You spent a lot of time here with Byakuya. You never expected him to go to the squad barracks to see you, though. That would be ludicrous.

But he never ceased to surprise you.

When he was there for business, he never failed to stop and say hello to you. If you were in a meeting, he’d politely come in and greet everyone (really looking at you) and then dismiss himself for work. If he’d see you in the hall between his meetings or duties, he’d soften his gaze and chat with you for a bit. Sometimes he’d watch you train, waiting for you to be done so you could go to the Manor together. You’d read together, talk, and just enjoy each other’s company. You loved Byakuya, and although some people might call your relationship with him stiff and ceremonial, you were very happy with it.

“Yes. I can stay.”

You smile up at him, putting your chin on his chest. He wasn’t quite smiling, but a look of pleasant contentedness greeted you from his handsome face. The locks of his hair streaming from his kenseikan billowed in the tumultuous wind. Your clothes sounded like flags with the way they whipped. It was most likely going to storm tonight. After he was done with his work, Byakuya would most likely keep the door to his bedroom open so that you two could watch the rain before bed.

You strained up on your toes to reach him, thankful that he came down to meet you halfway. Byakuya’s lips we soft and warm as he kissed you. His gloved hand came up and around your neck, pulling you deeper into him still until your senses were overwhelmed with him. The increase of pressure around you both came from your intimate embrace. All you felt was the familiar power of your love.

It wasn’t long until a crack of thunder interrupted your kiss with Byakuya, and rain began to fall. You both looked at each other and for the first time in a while, he laughs. You relish that sound, his light and beautiful laugh. The two of you turn to go back inside.

As you walk, he unwinds the scarf from around his neck and drapes in on your head in a silent joke. The cashmere shroud fell over your eyes and you giggle. You snuggle into it, wrapping it around your bare shoulders, breathing in its wonderful smell.

“There… so you don’t catch cold.”

You press into the side of Byakuya, leaning on him. He puts his arm on your back affectionately.

“Byakuya?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling. You could hear it in his silence, then in the grace of his voice as he spoke.

“I love you too.”

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goulets · 3 years ago

Text

Heartland

Chapter: 2/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth Rating: T (for now) Case Fic/Kid Fic a03 link

The first suggestion is that Jason move back into his old room, just down the hall from Bruce's which is met with an unequivocal not on your fucking life, Bruce.

“Let's get one thing clear: I am not 'moving back in',” Jason hisses, glaring around at all of them. He's whispering so as not to wake the baby, and it doesn't come off quite as intimidating as he'd like. “I just need a bed to sleep in, that's it. Don't do me any fucking favors.”

Dick says, “There's an empty bedroom next to mine, it's not that big, and the bathroom is shared, but – ”

“Sold,” Jason says, and again, the infant sleeping in his arms makes a good old-fashioned broody storm-off kind of impractical.

(jason)

The first suggestion is that Jason move back into his old room, just down the hall from Bruce's which is met with an unequivocal not on your fucking life, Bruce.

“Let's get one thing clear: I am not 'moving back in',” Jason hisses, glaring around at all of them. He's whispering so as not to wake Danielle, and it doesn't come off quite as intimidating as he'd like. “I just need a bed to sleep in, that's it. Don't do me any fucking favors.”

Dick says, “There's an empty bedroom next to mine, it's not that big, and the bathroom is shared, but – ”

“Sold,” Jason says, and again, the infant sleeping in his arms makes a good old-fashioned broody storm-off kind of impractical.

“Okay,” Dick nods. “I'll, um, just show you then.” Bruce looks impassive, and Tim looks like he doesn't quite know what to do with himself, as Dick walks past Jason and Jason follows him up the steps to the main part of the mansion.

Jason doesn't like following behind Dick. It's partly the principle of the thing, because he literally had to die and rise from the grave to get out of Dick's shadow, and even then, it's a matter of distance, and little more. He's far enough off the path of righteousness that the light that shines like a beacon onto Dick doesn't even touch him. So it feels like old news, a habit he grew out of long ago, walking behind Dick, tracing his footfalls, but it's so familiar he half expects to see those stupid fucking pixie boots on his feet when he looks down.

Then there's the other familiar part, the part he’s been struggling not to acknowledge, the awareness that’s been growing in the back of his mind since he set up camp in Gotham. Simply put, Dick is hot. His ass in spandex was the source of way too many semis popped Jason's stupid, flimsy little Robin shorts, and his ass in faded pajama pants is nothing short of miraculous either. But it's not just his body, although Jason wishes it was, not just the shape of his ass and the curve of his spine and the span of his shoulders – Dick is beautiful. He's elegant when he moves, when he laughs, when he's angry, when he's worried, when he's a fucking mess. It's impossible not to look at him, the attention he commands is probably partly due to the fact that he was raised a performer, and partly because that's just Dick.

Jason knows he's one in a long, heavily annotated list of people to fantasize about Dick Grayson. It used to keep him up at night when he was a kid, and not just in that way. There hadn't been a lot of tolerance in the streets for homosexuality – sure, it existed, Jason'd even been on the receiving end once or twice in the unlucky parts of his youth – but you didn't talk about it. So he'd suppressed it, save for those late night visits from his hand in the dark, and then he'd died. Been sprung from the grave, grew up a little, and came back to find that, surprise surprise, the world had grown up a little bit too, and not entirely for the worse. And since then, he's had encounters with men, women, couple aliens, and all that is whatever. This thing with Dick doesn't bother him on account of Dick, well, having a dick. Not anymore.

No, it bothers him because it's Dick fucking Grayson. Golden Boy, Boy Wonder, or as Jason likes to refer to him, Stupid Fucking Bastard With Stupid Fucking Sticks Who Just Won't Fucking Quit. Out of all of them, Dick's the most unchanged. Bruce is hardened, less trusting; Tim is broken; Jason is – whatever the fuck he is, beyond all hope, maybe; but Dick's never lost the spring in his step. Jason thinks he'll probably backflip right into death with a smile on his face, and he won't come back, because Dick is too damn good to be reanimated like some freakish perversion of nature. Jason calls Tim “Replacement” because it's true, Jason was replaceable, but Dick never was. Not that Jason had ever wanted to be his replacement – he hardly knows what he wanted to be to Dick then, even less what he wants to be to Dick now, but it sure as hell isn't some bullshit co-parenting gig with the whole family breathing down his neck.

Of all the fucking days he had to drag his ass down here to gossip.

Dick says, “So, this is it,” and Jason realizes they're outside his new room. The room he's staying in. The room the baby is staying in. That's all it is.

It's not small at all, of course, and the bathroom he's sharing with Dick is also not small, with a stand-up shower and a jacuzzi sized tub, because that's necessary, two sinks, and a ridiculous amount of storage space. He doesn't look at Dick's room, just takes in the furnishings of his own, a queen bed with slate-grey sheets, closet, dresser, desk, bookshelves with a good number of books already on them, and a little windowseat that for some reason makes the back of his throat feel itchy to look at.

Danielle makes a small noise in his arms, and something occurs to him. “Um, where's she supposed to sleep?” He's not an expert, but he's pretty sure babies need cradles – actually, and a lot of other shit, like diaper cream, special baby soap, pacifiers, those sling contraptions he sees people walking around with, and probably a billion other things he has no freaking clue about.

Dick says, “Huh. Good question.”

Helpful, Jason thinks. She can't sleep with him, can she? What if he rolls on top of her? What if she rolls off the bed? What if he has a nightmare and pummels her to death in his sleep? The thought makes him want to be sick, what is he thinking, trying to be some kind of fucking caregiver –

“Jason? You okay?”

Jason blinks. It dawns on him that he's been frozen in place for several seconds now, mind overloaded with the sheer volume of information he doesn't know, endless blank pages supplemented by a thoroughly sourced index of his fears. It's not like he planned for this – ever – he's pretty sure parental ineptitude runs in the family, because his mom sure as fuck never read What to Expect When You're Expecting.

He says, “Doesn't she need some kind of special baby doctor?”

Dick nods. “Bruce'll have Leslie come by and look at her soon. According to the hospital records, she missed her three-month check-in, so.”

“Dick.” Jason tries, and fails, probably, to keep the overwhelming helplessness he's feeling out of his voice. “What the fuck, man – this is crazy. I can't – I don't – where is she supposed to sleep?”

“I can answer that,” comes Alfred's clipped tone from the doorway. Jason turns to see the older man hauling an enormous, tall box into the room.

Jason says, “The hell?” at the same time that Dick rushes forward and says, “Here, let me help you,” and that about sums it up, he thinks.

“Her sleeping quarters,” Alfred says. He and Dick lay the box down, and Jason feels his stomach churn unpleasantly at the picture on the front of a smiling, drooling blonde-haired baby standing in a white wooden crib, fat little fists wrapped around the railing.

“You work fast, Alfie,” Dick comments, hauling another box into the room. This one says Changing Table on the side, and then Alfred pushes a rocking chair in, and Jason will be damned if it isn’t a whole fucking matching baby bedroom set.

“Where the hell did you even get this?” he asks, incredulous. He’s been at the manor two hours tops, hardly enough time for even Alfred to go out shopping for an entire room’s worth of furniture.

“Same-day delivery,” Alfred says smoothly. “I find that being a frequent, loyal customer expedites the process somewhat.”

“You don’t fucking say,” Jason mutters under his breath. Dick is now bringing in box after box of diapers, six huge shopping bags full of baby crap Jason would rather do just about anything than sort through, and some disassembled swing-looking contraption that promises “15 soothing melodies and nature sounds”. The room, suddenly, doesn’t seem so big anymore.

“Hmm,” Dick frowns, looking around. He must be noticing the same thing as Jason. “Honestly, I don’t see all this fitting in here. Alfie, what do you think?”

“You have the adjoining room, do you not, Master Richard?” Alfred replies. He surveys their haul, looking satisfied. Jason feels a tiny bit like he’s going to have a nervous breakdown, which is more or less where he’s been since Danielle was placed in his arms to begin with.

He’d been deadly serious when he’d told Bruce that he’d take her and protect her, but true to half-cocked form, he hadn’t even begun to parse out what that meant. Now that he’s standing in a room that looks like a Babies R’ Us blew up in it, with a human being the size of a loaf of bread snoozing and twitching in his arms, he doesn’t know what he could have possibly been thinking. What Bruce could possibly have been thinking, letting him walk away with her.

Well. Actually, Jason thinks, that about tracks for Bruce’s idea of fatherhood. In Jason’s experience, anyways.

“We’ll put the crib here, I think,” Dick says, leaning the box against the wall opposite the bed. “Changing table can go next to it, and I guess put the rocking chair in the other corner? Bottle stuff should go in the bathroom, and, hmm…” he trails off. “Yeah, we’ll just put the swing in my room. Don’t worry about it, Alfie, I’ll take care of it. You’ve done more than enough, seriously.”

“I’ll leave it to you boys, then,” Alfred says, picking up some of the discarded shopping bags and tucking them under his arm. He gives Jason a long look, like there’s something he wants to say, but seems to think better of it. Jason doesn’t know whether or not to be disappointed.

The silence that falls once Alfred leaves is awkward, bordering on oppressive. Dick doesn’t seem to notice, just keeps opening boxes and stuffing things in drawers and putting on a show of looking like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Jason knows better - can see how haphazardly he’s putting things away, how he’s moving around just to avoid being still. It’s a relief, in a way, to know that he’s not the only one completely out of his depth.

Still, he can’t deny Dick is being about a billion times more useful than him. What else is new.

“I’m just gonna stick this in the closet,” Dick says about a box containing a carseat. “We’ll figure it out later.”

Jason frowns. His car right now is a piece of crap Volvo that certainly shouldn't be hauling around anything as fragile as a baby. Not like he can take her on the bike, either. If they have to make a quick getaway, he’s looking at one-handed free running, or getting some new wheels posthaste.

Danielle grunts and yawns, stretching her tiny hands up and clawing at the material of his jacket. He pats her back, and she settles back into the crook of his arm. It tears at him, a little, watching her burrow into the leather, mouth occasionally opening and sucking, leaving little damp spots in her wake. She’s warm as hell now, practically a furnace, and he frankly wishes he had taken the damn jacket off before she got all comfortable, but he’d rather eat his own gun than put her down. It’s shocking to realize, but he wants her to be closer, wants to hold her right against his skin, against his heartbeat. He’s never felt this way about anything before, about anyone.

He clears his throat. “You seem bizarrely familiar with all this crap,” he says to Dick. “How do you - I mean, I don’t even have a clue what that thing is,” he gestures to the piece of fabric Dick is holding. It looks like the world’s longest scarf.

“It’s a wrap,” Dick says. “It’s for holding the baby. Or ‘wearing’, I think they call it. It’s nice for keeping your hands free. Roy had one for Lian, but it had a lot more buckles than this.”

Jason blinks. Roy, of course. Roy’s told him how much Dick has helped him out when he got full custody of Lian, back when she was still a baby. No wonder Dick is able to snap into action so easily. Jason’s spent a little time around Roy’s daughter, but she’s usually with her grandparents when they get together. For the best, since most of his team-ups with Roy have ended in shootouts and/or catastrophic explosions.

Just another reason he has absolutely no fucking business being anywhere near an infant.

“Hey,” Tim says from the doorway. “Um, here’s this pillow thing.” He holds out a box labeled Infant Lounger, and Jason is officially calling bullshit, there’s absolutely no way babies need this many goddamn surfaces to simply exist upon when, as far as he can tell from his one hour of baby experience, there’s no chance you’d ever want to put one down anyways. It’s all just one big racket - except for the diapers, probably.

“Thanks, Tim,” Dick sighs, opening the box and pulling out the lounger. It’s covered in a cutesy little whale pattern. “Well, that’s adorable, isn’t it?”

Tim looks skeptical. “If you say so.”

Jason narrows his eyes. “You didn’t come up here just to deliver a whale pillow, Replacement.” Dick shoots him a reproachful look, but screw him. “What’d you find out?”

Tim, to his credit, looks relieved to have an excuse to get to the real reason he’s there. “Well, we can officially rule out anyone from Intergang as a suspect. Their whole operation is a bust now. Word is Mannheim is pulling all the survivors out and regrouping, probably off-world.” He nods to Jason. “We’ve ruled the League of Assassins out, too.”

“So, who does that leave?” Dick asks. “Locals? Who are the major players in the East End?”

“There aren’t any,” Tim says. “The whole neighborhood’s been a power vacuum since...well.”

“Since me,” Jason snorts.

“It’s all small-time gangs, nobody with the firepower or the logistic capability to pull something like this off,” Tim goes on. “Which means we’re either looking at somebody new, or there’s a major territory grab that we somehow haven’t caught wind of.”

“Who patrols the East End now, anyways?” Jason asks.

“Nobody, unless Barbara sends the Birds out there. Used to be you,” Tim says mildly.

Jason works his jaw. “Last I checked, your boss is the one who wanted me out of there.”

“Last I checked, you didn’t take orders from him,” Tim replies, voice cool and even. Jason suddenly understands what an infant lounger is for - it’s a safe resting spot to hold your baby when you need both hands to throttle your aggravating family members.

“Oh, knock it off, both of you,” Dick says irritably. “Tim, are you running down leads for this?”

“I guess so,” Tim shrugs. “I was here on the Intergang expansion in the first place. Bruce and I are going to check out the bodies later this evening, get ballistics reports and see what else we can find. The paperwork is coming in pretty slow on the law enforcement side of things.”

Jason twists his mouth in disgust. “GCPD, dragging their heels? Shocking.”

“Pretty much,” Tim affirms. “They’re just happy the Intergang faction’s dealt with. I don’t think they want to look into it too closely.”

Even with a baby on the hit list, Jason thinks bitterly. It’s enough to make a person want to pick up and move altogether.

Danielle moves suddenly in his arms, stretching her tiny body and kicking one leg out against his ribs. She whines, twisting her head away, and when she turns back to look at him, her brown eyes are wide and watery.

“Shit,” he murmurs. “Dick, help. She doesn’t look happy to see me.”

Dick appears at his shoulder. Danielle whines again, flailing her limbs against Jason’s chest.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Dick coos, right in Jason’s ear. Oh, sweet Jesus, Jason did not think this one through at all. He feels his face flush, and has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at Dick to back the fuck up.

“Look at you,” Dick goes on, oblivious. “You’re awake now, huh? You need some attention, sweetie?” His breath is warm against Jason’s neck. Jason is going to crawl out of his skin.

Danielle’s eyes flicker towards the sound of Dick’s voice. She grunts, then turns abruptly and mouths at Jason’s armpit. Jason feels like his heart is gonna jump out of his goddamn throat. It’s been - God, he doesn’t even know, months? The better part of a year? - since he was this close to another person without his helmet on. His brain is screaming at him, escape, fight, neutralize, but even louder, there’s a piece of him overriding everything, a fist deep in his chest clenched around something he thought he’d left back in the Pit.

Danielle whines louder, kicking, and the fist clenches tighter.

“I don’t - ” he starts to say. His voice comes out breathy and ragged, he stops. Swallows. Get a grip, for fuck’s sake. “Maybe you should take her, I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.”

“Just rock her,” Dick suggests. His arm comes around to Jason’s elbow, and now Jason can’t help it, he jerks away violently. The little body in his arms goes stock still for a moment, hiccups, and then the sound of wailing fills the room.

Jason swears. “I’m sorry,” he tells her, like that means a damn thing to a baby. “Shit, I’m really sorry, Danielle.” He holds her upright against his shoulder, rubbing her back like he’s seen Roy do with Lian when she’s upset. “I’m an asshole, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She hiccups again, and makes a displeased noise that sounds vaguely chastising. Fair enough, he deserves it. Anything is better than crying.

Dick is looking at him, overbright, and Jason averts his eyes. Briefly, he makes eye contact with Tim, who looks incredibly uncomfortable. Good.

“I think we’ll leave the morgue investigation to you guys,” Dick says to Tim. He seems to have realized he overstepped. “There’s a lot to do here, and I still have my regular patrol. I’m guessing you’re going to the docks this evening,” he addresses Jason.

“I want to, but.” Jason rocks Danielle pointedly. “Kinda got my hands full here.”

“You don’t think we can leave her for a few hours?”

“What the fuck, no,” Jason says, incredulous. “Even if she wasn’t being targeted by some psycho, you can’t just leave a baby, what’s wrong with you.”

“Even I knew that,” Tim says, obnoxiously.

“She wouldn’t be alone, jeez,” Dick protests. “Alfred is here.”

“I’m protecting her,” Jason reminds him darkly. “Alfred has enough shit on his plate.”

“Okay,” Dick says, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “She’s pretty attached to you anyways, so you’re right, it’s probably best if we do that.”

Jason isn’t sure whether or not he’s being patronized, but flips Dick the bird just to be safe. Dick pretends not to notice.

“Drake, your input is being requested in the Cave,” Damian announces from the doorway. Christ, it’s a whole fucking family reunion, and he can’t escape. “Personally, I hadn’t even noticed your absence.”

Tim’s expression goes from vaguely aggrieved to fully constipated, which soothes some of Jason’s irritation. Bruce’s demon spawn is a complete and utter terror, but he’s so like his mother that Jason can’t help liking him. He’s not stupid enough to look down on him in a fight - he heard secondhand what Robin did to Victor Zsasz - but his heart’s just not in it when he spars with Damian. So sue him, he’s got a soft spot for kids, no matter how lethal they are.

“Keep me updated,” Jason says to Tim.

Tim nods, one hand on the doorframe as he exits. “Will do. Sure you don’t want to come along? Autopsy is daytime work.”

Jason grimaces. “Been there, done that. You guys can poke at dead people, I prefer to get my answers from ones that are breathing.”

Damian scoffs audibly. “Breathing until you finish with them, you mean?”

Jason ignores him. He turns his attention back to Danielle, who is starting to mouth at the collar of his jacket more aggressively. Shit, he probably shouldn’t let her do that. This jacket isn’t too old, at least, but he’s smoked his way through a dozen packs of cigarettes in it already, not to mention all the bad guy spatter it’s probably absorbed. Surface cleaners can only do so much.

“Perhaps you’d like to offer her this,” Damian says imperiously, holding out a bottle. “You know, children her age require feeding every three to four hours.”

“...Thanks,” Jason says, suspicious. He doesn’t think Damian would attack him when he’s holding a baby, but he looks like he’s considering it. Warily, he takes the bottle. It’s warm. “Did you make it?”

“It’s infant formula,” Damian replies bitingly. “It requires no scientific mastery.”

Alfred made it, then. Jason exchanges a look with Dick, who quirks an eyebrow almost imperceptibly.

“You don’t need to stay, Damian,” Dick says. “I’m just gonna be putting together furniture. You probably have homework to do, right?”

Damian looks affronted. “My studies aren’t so taxing, Grayson. What furniture?”

“Baby furniture, for Danielle. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “You’re dismissing me because you want me to argue, so that I’ll stay and help you.”

Dick is the picture of innocence. “I really don’t need help. I assembled all the furniture in my apartment, I know what I’m doing.”

“I also know what you’re doing.” Damian walks to the box holding the crib pieces, hands on his hips. “A simpleton could do this.”

“They make it pretty user friendly.”

“I’ll get my tools.”

Dick looks quite pleased with himself as Damian rushes off. Jason can’t help but laugh.

“Nice,” he says, shaking his head at Dick’s impish grin. “Hold her for a second, I’m gonna take my jacket off.”

Danielle whines more insistently when he passes her to Dick, and doesn’t stop when he takes her back. He cradles her upright in one arm, bouncing her a little to keep her distracted, and touches the nipple of the bottle to her mouth. She latches on eagerly, and he tries and fails not to smile at her enthusiasm, the delighted kicking of her legs as she eats, her eyes trained on his face like laser beams. He feels - full, almost, like a balloon in his chest is slowly filling up, a window he’d nailed and soldered shut is being pried open again.

There are holes in Jason’s memory, things the Pit couldn’t restore, fragments of his life that were beaten out of him, or left in the ground, or atrophied and rotted away during his lost year after waking up. When he first came back to Gotham, he’d filled all those empty spaces with rage and spite, but he’d burned through it all in a few months and found there wasn’t enough left over to keep filling them, to stop him from noticing the edges of remembering in his mind, the sensation of familiarity that would abruptly fade into nothing. He’s learned to navigate around them, but there’s never been a moment that he hasn’t known they are there. They’re a constant reminder that he died Jason Todd and came back Almost Jason Todd, the same person but without all the pieces.

The feeling he has, feeding Danielle - the warm smell of her, the force of her gaze, so human and yet so alien, the clutch-and-pull of her small hands against the fabric of his shirt and the scarred skin of his hand - it’s like she’s reached right into the center of him and dragged forth the memory of being whole. He isn’t, he won’t ever be, but he can remember it, and it absolutely takes his breath away.

“You good?” Dick asks, softly.

Jason swallows. “Uh-huh,” he manages. It’s a damn good question. Jason isn’t frequently good, he’s often satisfied, often pissed off, often (less often, now) steeped so deep in madness he’s out of his mind. This is something else, he thinks. Something close to shattered, but it’s also close to good, because even though he’s in a thousand goddam pieces, the pieces, for once, are all there.

“Wow, Jay,” Dick murmurs. “You’ve really got a way with her, you know.”

Jason waits to answer until he’s sure his voice won’t betray how shaken apart he is. “She just doesn’t know any better yet,” he says. “Probably at this stage, it’s all the same to them.”

“She didn’t eat this well for me,” Dick says, and Jason can’t tear his eyes away from Danielle to look, but he can hear Dick smiling. “Face it, Jaybird, she chose you.”

“Shut up,” Jason replies, but it’s so subdued it’s practically a whisper. He can’t even deny it - she did choose him, and even if he can’t fathom why, even if it terrifies him, he can feel it all the way down to his bones. He’ll do anything for this little girl. Shit, she’s already got him shacking up in the last place he’d ever want to be. She’s got him thinking about sensible family cars, for Christ’s sake. He hasn’t even known her a full day, but she chose him, and he knows he’d die for her as instinctively as breathing.

“This had better not take long,” Damian says, reentering the room with his toolbox in hand. “I have training to finish.”

Dick laughs, but it’s a little off, somehow. Jason still doesn’t look - if he had to guess, he would say that Damian managed to surprise Dick, but that doesn’t seem very likely.

“Sure thing, Dami. The changing table is probably the easiest, if you have things to do.” Whatever Jason thought he heard, it’s not there anymore. Dick’s voice is back to being smooth and casual, pointedly so, which probably means Damian’s about to -

“In other words, you want me to assemble the crib,” Damian says flatly.

“Pretty sure I said changing table,” Dick repeats, exasperated.

“Enough with your mind games Grayson. They aren’t subtle, you’re embarrassing yourself. I’ll assemble the crib, since you seem to think it’s too challenging for you.”

“If that’s what you want,” Dick says evenly. Jason finally catches his eye, and he winks. “I’ll start working on the changing table - the way she’s eating, we’re gonna need it soon.”

Anxiety flits across Damian’s face, and he scowls hard at Jason a split second later. Jason shrugs one shoulder at him peaceably. He’d be lying if he said he had no reservations about changing diapers either, but hell, he signed up for this, didn’t he? People even more dysfunctional than him must have figured it out over the years. And considering his extracurricular activities, he can hardly be getting squeamish over a little baby poop.

Danielle, having paused her eating to look around, makes a short fussing sound and then latches onto the bottle again. Jason adjusts his hold and brings her up a little higher. She curls into him automatically, the fingers of her little hand splaying against his shirt, right over the intersection of scar tissue fanning across his chest. He’s never let anyone touch him there before. It doesn’t feel….bad. At all.

It feels like waking up after a long, disorienting dream. Like climbing down a mountain and taking the first breath of oxygen-rich air.

It feels like being home.

***

(tim)

“Here’s what we know,” Bruce says, pulling up the footage from Oracle. “One month ago, Cy Reynolds and a couple dozen henchmen took over the Eastern port for Intergang. They demo’d the warehouses the Dragons were operating out of, and the old Falcone hotel. They brought in tech, weapons, and what appears to be equipment from Apokolips to construct a boom tube.”

“Just what we need,” Tim mutters.

“Two days ago, Cy Reynolds, his wife, and their adult son all turned up dead. Each was shot twice in the head, execution style. Oracle, any update on ballistics?”

“Negative,” Barbara’s voice comes through the computer speakers. “Forensics are taking their sweet time.”

“We have sixteen other bodies, identified as Reynolds’ second tier of command within Intergang and their respective families.” Bruce pauses. “This includes three children. A fourth was targeted, identified as the child of Mitchell Howard and Linda Torres, but she somehow survived.”

“And made it all the way to St. Aden’s in Coventry,” Tim finishes. “Records say Torres lived on the edge of Little Italy.”

“Has your group seen any signs of new groups operating on the East End?” Bruce asks. “There’s a short list of suspects who could have pulled this off in two days.”

“If there are, they’re way underground,” Barbara says. “You can rule out the Golden Dragons, most of the ones left in that area joined up with Intergang. They’re focused on turf wars in Chinatown, they wouldn’t bother defending the Eastern port.”

“That fits with our intel,” Tim says, trying not to sound annoyed. This started as his op, and he’d ruled out the Dragons from the very beginning. Bruce’d had barely a passing interest until Jason got involved, and now Tim has been demoted to pinch-hitter on his own case. He’ll deal, but after the year he’s had, it’s a little hard not to take it personally.

“The killers’ modus operandi ranges from shooting to stabbing, which suggests human suspects,” Bruce says. “Targeting families suggests the mob.”

“The Falcones used to control the whole east side,” Tim says thoughtfully. He’s surprised it never occurred to him. He’d been so focused on new territory feuds, he hadn’t stopped to think that it might be an old territory feud. Maybe he deserves to be a pinch-hitter. “Any chance they’re making a comeback?”

There’s a flurry of typing on Barbara’s end. “Funny you should mention them. We had five bodies from the Falcone family turn up over the past six months. Some of these could be accidental, but I tagged it as suspicious after the third one.”

“So, a rival family,” Tim says, slowly. He racks his brain for a list of crime families in Gotham’s history. Who’d even bother going after the Falcones these days? They haven’t been truly active in Gotham for over two decades, but, Tim supposes, some rivalries never die. “The Maronis are locked up….maybe the Odessa Mob? Could they be making moves?”

“Nightwing would know if they were expanding past Bludhaven,” Bruce says. Fair enough. Wouldn’t make sense for the Russians to stage a hostile takeover when they’re barely holding ground across the harbor, anyways. “Who are the victims from the Falcones?”

“That’s the weird part. They were all straight, as far as I can tell. One shoe store manager, two housewives, a scuba instructor, a graduate student, and an entrepreneur. Barely a drug charge between them.”

“Could they be unrelated?” Tim asks, glancing through the reports..

“No,” Bruce says decisively. “It’s too much of a coincidence. These murders are all connected.”

“I agree,” Barbara says. “Based on proximity alone, but combined with the destruction of the old hotel, it’s all adding up to something.”

Tim doesn’t argue. They’re right - if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that coincidences are never just that in Gotham. The connection is there, they just need to find it.

“That hotel was Carmine Falcone’s crown jewel, back when he was in power,” Bruce says. “If the Falcone family is behind this, they could have been retaliating.”

“That’s a hell of a lot of bodies to drop just in retaliation,” Tim says doubtfully. “And to what end? If it is them, it has to be more than that.”

Barbara puts new footage on their screen. “Here’s what I pulled from last night’s traffic cams. Looks like the person who killed the baby’s parents is the same one who dropped her at the orphanage.”

Tim studies the grainy figure on the screen. They’re wearing a hood and limping slightly, but from the approximate size and shape, they appear to be -

“A female assailant,” Bruce says. “Not a pro. This person couldn’t have taken down a man like Reynolds.”

Tim stretches his arms over his head. “So, multiple killers.”

“Fits the mob angle. Give me an hour or two, and I’ll have an ID,” Barbara says. “Oracle out.”

Tim watches Bruce pull stills from the footage and run them against his video backlogs. On a separate screen, he watches Colin draw baby Danielle out of the Safe Surrender box, look around at the camera, and then hurry out of view.

“Red Robin, what exactly is going on over there?” Barbara asks quietly over the comm in his ear. She must have opened a private channel, because Bruce doesn’t show any indication he’s hearing her too.

“I’m gonna hit the training mat,” he says to Bruce. He gets no acknowledgement, which is more or less what he’s learned to expect.

“It’s been kind of a shitshow here,” he replies, once he’s out of earshot of Bruce. “What have you heard?”

“That Robin brought home a baby, and Red Hood adopted it, and now he’s moving back in to take care of it.”

“You’re pretty much caught up, then,” he says, stifling a laugh. “And Nightwing is helping, which is even weirder.”

“No shit,” she muses. “He’s helping Red Hood?”

“I guess? I was just with them, they’re kind of getting along, actually.”

“They had a decent rapport going when Nightwing took over as Big B,” Barbara says. “Robin wasn’t crazy about it. I think he wanted N all to himself.”

Tim considers this. “I always thought Robin didn’t like Hood because of his methods.”

“I’m not about to psychoanalyze Robin on a line I know he could hack if he wanted to,” Barbara says dryly. “But I’m sure that’s part of it. Hang on, B is lighting up the family line.”

Tim switches over. Bruce says, “We’re going to have to make some adjustments to patrols, while Danielle is in our care.”

“Black Bat and Batgirl are still in Florida,” Barbara says. “They should be wrapping up their case in the next day or two. I’ll put them on the South End when they get back.”

“Good,” Bruce says. “Signal should also be back in Gotham by then. Red Robin, you’ll need to put activities with the Titans on hold. I’ll have you covering the Northeast corner, including Crime Alley and the Bowery.”

“That’s my turf,” Jason snarls over the comm. “You can’t just go giving away my patrol. I gave you the East End, and look how that fucking turned out.”

“I wasn’t finished. Red Robin will cover those areas when Red Hood is otherwise occupied.”

Tim closes his eyes for a long second. Great. Now Jason will be gunning for him, again.

“Nightwing, your coverage of Bludhaven is non-negotiable. Robin will join you, temporarily, and fill in for you on the nights you need to be absent.”

“Really?” Dick sounds pleased. “Hey, Robin, did you hear that?”

“Of course I did,” Damian says. “Father, I accept this assignment.”

Unfair, Tim thinks, petulantly. He thinks Barbara’s probably right about Damian wanting Dick all to himself, but they all want Dick all to themselves. It’s complete bullshit that Jason and Damian, by far the least deserving, are the ones getting him.

“Oracle, we’ll need the Birds to fill in the gaps.”

Tim can almost hear Barbara rolling her eyes. “That’s what we’ve been doing, Batman. I’ll ask Huntress to keep her eyes on the Narrows. I’ve already got half my monitors dialed in to the East End. If anything happens there, I’ll be first to know.”

“Good,” Bruce says. “We’ll debrief again after tonight.”

There’s a long pause, and then Jason says, “Replace - Red Robin, we better talk if you’re taking my patrol tonight.”

Tim swallows. “Just so you know, I didn’t ask B to assign me.”

“No shit you didn’t. No one in their right mind would. No idea why he’s gone off the fucking deep end about this, like we haven’t dealt with way worse.” Jason sounds aggrieved. Tim can hear baby squealing noises in the background.

“Twenty bodies in one weekend isn’t nothing,” Barbara says. “This only happened because we were lax on patrol. No one was covering that area while Red Robin was gone.”

“I had informants on the ground,” Tim protests. “We were in touch.”

“It’s not your fault, Red,” Dick says immediately. “Oracle didn’t mean that. We should have been covering. It’s our bad, not yours.”

“I could have been covering,” Jason grumbles.

“Last time there were this many dead gangsters on the docks, you were covering.”

“Oh, fuck you, Boy Wonder.”

“Boys,” Oracle says, none too pleasantly. “I’m muting the family line now, so you’ll have to bicker like schoolgirls in person. Oracle out.”

Well, if he’s on the training mat anyways, he might as well get a workout in. Tim grabs his bo staff and scrolls through the training menus on his phone until he finds one that’ll thoroughly kick his ass. It’s stressful, having this many people in the manor. Tim doesn’t have a single clue how to act around a baby, much less how to act around Jason Todd with a baby.

Conner will find this hilarious, he thinks, whenever he gets back to Earth. Not the murders, obviously, but he’s always taken particular delight in Tim’s family drama. He’ll have to tell him about it next time they see each other - if they ever see each other - if Conner is even talking to him -

Tim shakes his head roughly. He’s been doing so well at not thinking about Conner, and truth be told, a hiatus from the Titans will probably do him a world of good on that front. He can’t take any more of Bart’s overcompensating, or Gar and Cassie’s whispering when they think he isn’t paying attention. At least when Bruce and Damian second-guess him, it’s not because they think he’s heartbroken, or whatever.

Because he’s not.

Probably.

The program starts, and then immediately ends when Tim takes a holographic missile to the chest. Crap. He hits the restart button, pushes everything else out of his mind. Dealing with his encyclopedia of dysfunctional relationships can wait. This, at least, he knows how to do.

***

#jaydick #haven’t posted fic on this website in many years and the text editor has really tanked i gotta say #what do you have against center alignment tumblr #where did the nice word processor go #Ugh #anyways here’s this #fell face first back into bats so i’m finishing this wip from 2013 #my fics #heartlandverse

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celosiaa · 4 years ago

Note

hi me again 🥺 sorry for making you tear up even if it was in a good way (hopefully?) 💕 i don’t mind the wait at all, i completely understand and it’s 100% worth it (honestly i get so excited whenever you post a new fic)!! soooo... i was doing some research for a project on epilepsy and i got thinking about epileptic martin?? like particular in s1 maybe he didn’t tell the other archives crew as he didn’t know them that well/hadn’t worked closely with them before (ok sorry tbc as i am rambling)

hello friend!!! I am so sorry that this took me a literally unreasonable amount of time to write! I really enjoyed the research I did for this, and I love this hc forever. And I hope this is what you were looking for <3

CW seizures, nausea, misgendering

Focus.

Just focus.

For god’s sake.

It’s been nearly an hour of Martin sitting at his desk, trying desperately to rein in any sliver of concentration he can muster to look at the laptop screen before him. He feels awful doing it, but every time Jon has passed by his desk that day, he’s found himself pretending to click around or to type—though he’s got the brightness set so far down there’s no way he’d be able to see it anyway. After a few attempts at turning it back up, he’s had to immediately look away, as the pounding behind his eyes resumes again. So for now, he’s stuck with reading statements—something he is loathe to do even on a good day.

And this certainly wasn’t.

He knows better than this, knows that he’s very nearly approaching disaster—what with the not sleeping out of hypervigilance, not eating out of anxiety, and not having his seizure meds for the past two days, as he’d managed to run out of his flat without them. And there’s no doubt in his mind that he cannot send anyone back to his flat. Not with Prentiss still on the loose.

Selfish selfish selfish

No, stop it.

You haven’t even done anything.

Wishing more than anything that his mind did not constantly run him ragged with thoughts like this, Martin looks up from his papers, intending to find a rubber band to snap against his wrist as a distraction, but instead—

Instead he finds himself frozen, colors fading in and out across his vision, heartbeat steadily climbing as his fingers go numb.

No no no no

Not now not now please not now

Realistically, he knows it’s only been a few seconds, but the seconds feel like years against the rapid thrum thrum thrum in his ears, made even worse when he sees Tim approaching from the periphery.

Damn it damn it

Please please please

“Hey Marto!”

Like clockwork, the focal aware seizure ends, and at last—at last he is able to move enough to look up at where Tim stands, leaning against his desk, smile fading rapidly as he watches Martin blinking in the suddenly-too-bright light.

“You alright?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at his face, doubtless taking note of how quickly he is breathing now to match his settling heart rate.

“Y-yeah, sorry, um. Was just thinking,” is all he can reply, fighting to put an easy smile back on his face.

It seems to have been the wrong move, as Tim only shifts to sit atop his desk, expression quickly becoming overrun with concern.

“Okay, well…you look like you’re having a panic attack, mate,” he says lowly, reaching across him to grab his water bottle and set it nearer to him. “What do you need?”

Even with his misguided interpretation, Martin can’t help the flood of affection he feels toward him in this moment—because that’s just Tim, isn’t it? Never assumes, just asks what will help and then does it.

If only I weren’t such a mess, and would let him.

“Oh, n-no it’s not—it’s not that, Tim, I’m—I’m alright. Must’ve…drifted off, or something. Had a nightmare.”

There is no way Tim buys that, no way in hell—but thankfully, he lets it go.

“O…kay then. Well. If that’s the case, I was just thinking of grabbing some lunch, do you want anything? Don’t reckon you’ve eaten properly in a bit, yeah?”

God, Tim.

I don’t deserve this.

Yes, you do. You deserve a friend and you need to eat.

You need to eat.

“Uhh—th-thanks, erm. Where—where are you going?” he asks, wishing to god his voice didn’t sound so shaky.

He takes a few intentionally deep breaths after that—thinking that perhaps it is a panic attack, after all. Without realizing that several seconds have gone by since his question, he feels Tim’s bracing hand on his shoulder, knowing that he’s not going to ask again—but offering him a clear sign that he’s there all the same.

“Just the corner shop,” he murmurs, starting to rub his thumb over the shoulder seam of Martin’s t-shirt. “Nothing fancy. But I can get you a sandwich, if you like. Well, no—I am getting you a sandwich regardless, but I thought I might be considerate for once and ask if there was anything in particular that you want.”

“Yeah—erm, yeah, just. Anything that’s warm would be nice,” he says at last, sinking a bit as Tim removes his hand from his shoulder. “Thanks, Tim. That’s—that’s really kind.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously,” he says, clapping his hand back against Martin’s shoulder with force before standing. “Be back in a bit. Drink that water.”

“I will,” Martin nods, earning himself some finger guns of approval before Tim starts walking towards the lift. “Thanks, mate.”

And he’s so close now, so close to shouting after him, to asking him to pick up his meds from the chemist, if he calls them in—

Just ask just ask just ask

—and then Tim is around the corner, and out of sight.

Damn it all.

He tells himself it’s probably for the best anyway—that he’s not really even sure he can get them. But it doesn’t stop him burying his face in his hands, tugging at his hair in frustration and shame. Really though, he ought to call first before mentioning anything—perhaps they have a delivery service, or they’ll refuse him, or something.

And what then?

The idea of finding himself suddenly on the floor of the archives, alone and in the dark with the worms having crawled all over him while he seized—

Have to call.

Reaching bitterly for his phone, he takes a deep breath as it rings, preparing his best “customer service” voice.

“Boots, how can we help you today?”

“Hi! Erm, I was wondering if—if I could get a refill for my prescription? For—for carbamazepine,” he says, cheery voice belying the dread with which he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Sure thing! Just need your name and date of birth and I’ll look you up.”

“Right. Erm—well, it’s Martin, but I think you’ve still got me under, erm. Mary Blackwood,” he says, forcing himself not to grit his teeth at the foul taste his deadname leaves in his mouth. “Date of birth October 15th, 1987.”

“Alright, let’s see here—“

Please please please

“—it looks like you’ve already got your refill, Miss Blackwood. Our system says you picked up your medication on the 19th.”

“It’s—it’s Mister, actually. Erm,” he stammers, stomach churning over the entire thing. “L-listen, I—I’ve had to leave my home quite suddenly, and—and I am unable to return there for the time being. So I don’t—I don’t have access to my meds. And I, erm. Really need them.”

Pathetic pathetic pathetic

“I’m really sorry, Mister Blackwood. You’re going to have your doctor call in another prescription for you before we can get you that refill. Unfortunately, it’s out of our hands.”

Of course.

“Oh, right. That’s erm—that’s okay. Thank you so much,” he says as brightly as possible, unwilling to blame anyone for something out of their control.

“You’re quite welcome. Take care.”

With a long, shaky sigh, Martin throws his phone back onto his desk, returning his head to its rightful place, buried in his hands. There’s no way he can call his doctor today—or tomorrow even, with it already being a Friday afternoon. No chance of him getting his refill, then. And no chance of sending Tim back to his apartment either.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

It was just a focal, nothing too bad.

Nothing unmanageable.

I can make it.

Steeling himself with somewhat tremulous determination, he takes another long breath—blinking back against the steady pounding in his head, and getting back to work.

—

“Aw come on, Sasha! Take a break with me!”

“Not on your life. I’m still furious with you, you know,” she replies, tossing her hair like a lion’s mane over her back. “Can’t believe you’d go all the way to the good café for Martin, and not offer me anything. Not even crumbs, Stoker!”

“Listen—” Tim grins back, hands raised in self-defense. “He looked like he could use some soup! I don’t know what else to say.”

“And you didn’t get me any? What about me doesn’t scream ‘I could use some soup, thank you?’”

“It’s different!! It’s—Martin? You alright?”

As he was walking past their bickering, eyes firmly fixed on the floor on the lookout for worms, Martin had suddenly stopped short—looking anxiously up and over their heads, framed by the doorway of Jon’s office.

“Martin?” Tim repeats, already halfway to standing in worry, following Martin’s gaze behind him and finding nothing.

Faster than he can turn back around, Martin’s muscles all tense at once—and he tips backwards onto the floor with a heavy thud.

“Shit! Martin!”

Tim darts forward at once, in some feeble attempt to catch him, but of course, far too late to do so. In his shock, he can do little but stand over him for a few seconds, taken aback upon seeing his eyes still open where he lies still on the floor.

“What happened?” Jon demands, stepping quickly out of his office towards them, where Sasha now crouches near his head.

“I-I don’t know, he just—”

And then Martin begins to convulse.

“Oh my god, he’s—he’s having a seizure,” Sasha gasps as she claps a hand over her mouth, from where it had been pressed against his forehead.

“Fuck. Fuck, what do—what do we do? Do we call 999?” Tim shouts, unwilling to sit by and watch as this all goes on around him, already grabbing Sasha’s phone from her nearby desk.

“I—I think so, let me—”

“Wait.”

Two sets of eyes land upon Jon as he interjects, crouching near Martin’s flailing left arm, waiting for him to set it back down before quickly grabbing at a bracelet circling his wrist.

“I-it’s a medical bracelet. Says epilepsy,” he says lowly, quickly sitting back on his heels as Martin’s arm begins to jerk again.

“Fuck. I—I had no idea,” Tim breathes, running an anxious hand through his hair. “How could we not know?”

“We should—” Sasha breaks off quickly to swallow a lump in her throat, before continuing. “We should be timing it, did anyone see the time?”

“I-I don’t—it’s probably been less than a minute, right?”

“I think so. I’m—here, I’m googling it to make sure—”

While she does so, Martin’s head begins to slam into the ground—and Jon immediately pulls off his cardigan, folding it quickly and placing it beneath him to cushion the blow.

“It’s alright, big guy,” Tim says, settling down to kneel next to Jon, who now has a hand gently pressed to his shoulder—not holding him down, just resting there in a comfort Martin probably cannot receive.

Tim rests his own hand against Martin’s thigh all the same.

“Okay, I think we’re good so far,” Sasha says at last, setting her phone down with a timer running on the screen. “Just time it, and—and keep watch. If it goes past five minutes, we call 999.”

“That’s—that’s it?” Tim says in dismay, snapping his eyes back to his friend, still convulsing on the floor. “There’s nothing else we can do?”

“No. We just have to watch out for him,” she replies, voice low as she adjusts Jon’s cardigan beneath his head. “Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

Not the answer that Tim was looking for.

And so they wait—silent save for the rhythmic smacking of his limbs against the carpeted floor, and the occasional whispered platitude, though all know he cannot hear them. The seconds tick by in agony while they sit helpless, all eyeing the timer on Sasha’s phone creeping up steadily past three minutes.

“I don’t like this,” Tim says, knowing how useless it is to say so—Sasha raising her eyes to meet his for the first time in a while.

“Me neither.”

“Nearly three and a half minutes,” Jon mutters, worrying at his bottom lip while still resting a gentle hand on Martin’s shoulder.

“We’ve got you, Martin,” Tim mutters. “We’ve got you.”

Ten more seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

And at last—at last he goes still, right past the four-minute mark.

“Alhamdulillah,” Jon sighs as he lets his chin briefly rest against his chest, a sentiment echoed by everyone around him.

“Okay, turn him on his side, here—Tim—”

“Got it,” Tim says as he moves to crouch next to her, helping roll him towards Jon, head pillowed on the arm Jon stretched out across the floor as a cushion.

As soon as they get him in the recovery position, they watch as saliva runs out of his mouth, surely fit to choke him had they not turned him—and he begins to snore forcefully, catching Tim very much by surprise.

“Wh-what—” he asks in bewilderment, struggling to hold back a bit of shocked laughter.

“The website said that’s normal,” Sasha assures at once, reaching behind her to grab a box of tissues from her desk behind her. “He’s going to be sleepy for a bit.”

“Okay. That’s—okay,” he says, watching as Jon takes the tissues from Sasha and wipes at Martin’s face so very gently, before tossing them aside and taking his hand.

Taking his hand.

…interesting.

Stowing THAT away for later.

As Jon starts to move his thumb across the back of Martin’s palm, the snoring stops—and his eyes begin to flutter rapidly, attempting to force their way fully open.

“Hey Martin, can you hear me?” Sasha says rather loudly, bending over him and tapping his shoulder lightly.

All she receives in response is a moan, deep and low, as he squeezes and unsqueezes his eyelids, coughing a bit against the pooling saliva. Jon reaches for the tissues again at once, cleaning his face as best as possible.

“You’re okay mate,” Tim says, patting his hip before leaving his hand there for support. “You’ve had a seizure.”

It takes a few moments, but at last, Martin opens his eyes, looking vaguely around without meeting Jon’s eyes.

“Wh’ happ’n?” he slurs—all three of them exchanging a meaningful glance, a bit alarmed.

“You had a seizure, Martin,” Sasha repeats, stroking at his hair while Tim starts rubbing his hand up and down his arm, hoping it will somehow help to ground him.

Remaining still for a few moments, still blinking, Martin tries to take it all in— looking down towards where Jon still rubs at his hand, though still seemingly unaware of his presence.

“What happened?” he asks again, voice less slurred, but still weak.

“A seizure, Martin,” Jon says, trying desperately to catch his eyes. “You’re alright.”

At once, Martin wrenches his hand away from Jon’s grasp in favor of clapping it over his mouth, muffling a small and desperate gasp behind it.

“Shit. You gonna be sick?” Tim asks, already looking around him for something to grab as Jon once again prepares his tissues.

He does not respond right away, instead pausing for a few deep breaths—at last shaking his head no. In both relief and the absence of something to do with his hands, Jon fusses at the cardigan again—positioning it just so.

“Wh—oh, seizure,” Martin breathes, and Tim cannot help but feel relieved at his gaining a bit of orientation back.

“Yeah.”

Eyebrows knitting together, Martin moves the hand clapped over his mouth to rest on his eyes, sniffling a bit before speaking.

“M’so sorry,” he gasps—and it’s enough to break Tim’s heart.

All of their hearts apparently, as they immediately place their hands on him in a gesture of comfort.

“Hey, no, none of that,” Sasha soothes, brushing back his fringe again.

“M’sorry.”

“Martin, it’s alright,” reassures Jon, with such rare gentleness that even Martin lowers his hand to look—wincing quickly as he does so, and placing it back over his eyes at once.

“Do the lights hurt?” Sasha asks worriedly, placing her hand to cover his own, hoping to block more of it out.

“Yeah—ah,” he grits out with a pained little gasp, and Jon gets to his feet.

“I’ll get them,” he says, and walks quickly to the switch, sending them into a darkness illuminated only by the light from the hall.

With a quiet sigh of relief, Martin lowers his hand again, eyes still closed, and rubs absently at his nose. Stumbling a bit as his eyes adjust to the dark, Jon makes his way back to kneeling beside him, taking up his free hand again.

“Your head okay?” asks Tim, prompting Sasha to card through his hair to look for any swelling. “I’m sorry I didn’t—I couldn’t catch you.”

“…what?” comes the vague response, delayed by a few seconds as Martin tries in vain to sort through what was said.

“Still confused,” Sasha mouths at him silently—and he nods, instead going back to rubbing up and down Martin’s arm, as Sasha moves to massage his neck.

“M’sorry.”

“Hush, darling. It’s alright,” she says, and Tim knows without a doubt she will sit there all day, repeating these same things to him as long as he needs.

And loves her for it.

“…wh—Jon?”

Eyes more focused than ever, Martin looks down to where Jon still rubs a thumb over his palm, stunned very his very presence in this space.

“Yes, I’m here,” he murmurs, offering a small squeeze of affirmation, inadvertently painting a soft grin briefly across Martin’s face—before it drops quickly again in horror, as the reality of the situation sinks in again.

“Oh god. I—oh god.”

“It’s okay, Martin.”

“No no no.”

“It’s alright,” Jon comforts, more soothing than Tim had ever imagined would be possible for him. “Just be still. You’re alright.”

Five minutes turn into ten, turn into fifteen as Martin’s confusion slowly fades away—his recovery naturally filled with a deluge of apologies, patient soothing from his friends, and tending to the waves of nausea that come over him every few minutes. Ever so gradually, he becomes better able to hold a conversation; better able to hold their gaze, asking what happened before he went down, explaining that his…well, everything is sore, but that it’s nothing unmanageable.

There is very little that Martin would call “unmanageable,” of course, but it’s the most they will get out of him.

“I think I can sit up now,” he says after a bit, bracing his arms underneath himself to prepare, and Tim reaches out to support him at once.

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”

A bit slow, a bit clumsy, they get him up—not without some worried questioning when he hunches forward, face buried in his hands as the headache worsens with the change of posture. But luckily, it dulls as quickly as it comes, and Martin soon finds himself able to look up, even to offer a bit of a sheepish smile.

“Want some water?” Tim asks as soon as he looks steady.

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m on it,” he says, refusing to accept any of Martin’s guilt-laden excuses, and dashes off to the kitchen at once, leaving Jon and Sasha still vaguely holding onto him in the fear that he might fall again.

“I’m alright, guys, really,” he assures, though he makes no effort to shrug their hands off—so there they stay.

“Do you know what caused this, Martin?” Sasha asks, folding his collar from where it sticks up at the nape of his neck.

With a heavy sigh and an exhausted pinch to the bridge of his nose, Martin replies, face reddening with shame.

“Yeah. You’re—you’re going to laugh.”

“Why would we laugh?” Jon asks so earnestly, so softly that it wins him a long and surprised look from Martin.

“I…dunno really, just. It’s just that it’s—it’s all my own fault. Stupid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I—I don’t—” he cuts off for a moment to hiss painfully as he rubs at his temple again, and Sasha’s hold tightens ever so slightly as a precaution. “I don’t have my…seizure meds with me. I left them at my flat when—when I ran. From Prentiss.”

Of course.

Of course he did.

“I would have gotten them for you Martin!” Tim shouts as he returns with the water. “Any of us would, mate. You should have said.”

“I didn’t want to send you back to my flat. She might…she might still…be there.”

He fades a bit as he speaks—rubbing once more at his temples, and Sasha resumes her ministrations of massaging his neck.

“Alright, just—it’s alright, Martin,” Jon soothes, a bit alarmed at the way he’s hunched back over—seemingly nauseous again, as he moves the bin a bit closer to himself just in case. “What can we do now?”

After a few long, deep breaths, his churning stomach finally settles long enough for him to answer, albeit a bit more vague-sounding than moments before.

“I tried…I tried to call the chemist, but…they won’t refill it unless I…unless I talk to my doctor. And it’s not like I can just go.”

“You have to get some from A&E then,” Tim insists, sitting back down next to him and pressing a hand atop his shoulder.

“No, I can’t.”

“We’ll go with you,” mutters Jon, before clearing his throat, returning to his best confident-boss tone. “We’ll keep watch for the worms. Go prepared.”

“You don’t—“

“We will,” Sasha says emphatically, leaving no room for argument—and even Martin knows when the battle is lost. “We’re happy to do it, Martin. Seriously.”

“Thank you,” he very nearly whispers, face flushing beet red as the undue attention of the afternoon catches up with him. “That’s really…too kind.”

“Well, you’ve got to get it somehow, mate,” Tim says with a chuckle, earning himself a warning glare from both Sasha and Jon. “What? I’m sure Martin wants this to happen again even less than we do. Which is saying a lot.”

“Yeah,” Martin says, surprising them all by chuckling briefly in return. “Reckon you’re right about that. I didn’t—this is pretty much my worst nightmare, so…just so you all know how sorry I am.”

“Yes, you’ve said,” Sasha laughs. “And it keeps continuing to not be your fault.”

“Right. Sure.”

He does not sound at all sure—but she lets it go all the same.

“We should go today, Martin,” Jon says as he stands, already grabbing a canister of CO2 in preparation. “Don’t want you to miss another dose.”

“And take that thing on the Tube?” Martin laughs, fully smiling for the first time since the whole affair began. “Think we might get some looks.”

“It’s the Tube, mate. Stranger things have happened,” Tim chuckles, rolling his eyes good-naturedly before jumping in to assist him in standing.

“Suppose you’re probably right about that.”

“Let’s go then,” says Jon, face steeled as if armed to the teeth and ready to tangle with anything coming his way. “Work that needs doing.”

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #tma fanfic #martin blackwood #hurt/comfort #cw nausea #cw seizures #cw misgendering #trans martin #jordanian jon #background timsasha #my writing

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theforsakenprince · 4 years ago

Text

Nightmare’s Lullaby

A/N: So this is what I’ve been working on for the past six months! A huge thank you to @jajathelivingmeme for the artwork they made of my fic which you can find here and @ts-storytime for organizing the event! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy!

Ao3 link

Masterpost

Words: 31,540

Pairings: Prinxiety

Characters: Roman, Remus, Patton, Logan, Janus, Virgil, Frost (OC)

Warnings: Minor character deaths, blood, knives, cursing, mentions of abuse, fighting, food (let me know if I need to tag anything!)

Summary: Roman had spent his entire life as a prince of the SkyWing tribe, nothing remarkable. He spent his days doing his princely duties and trying to stay in Queen Scarlet’s good graces. When he hears about an assassin killing off members of the other tribe’s royal families, he isn’t too worried. No one from the Sky Kingdom had been killed, and surely the assassin would be caught soon.

He’s proven wrong when the RainWing queen is murdered at a meeting and Remus goes missing. Queen Scarlet tasks him with finding the assassin and putting them down, and he doesn’t want to find out what will happen if he doesn’t.

If Roman were given any choice in the matter, he would most certainly not be sitting next to Queen Scarlet, watching over the arena battles. But since he wasn't given a choice, he found himself doing exactly that on the balcony overlooking the stadium, absolutely miserable.

The smell of dead dragons made his stomach churn. The way the crowd roared for blood made him want to squeeze his eyes shut and clap his talons over his ears. The way his mother, Queen Scarlet, seemed to enjoy the screams of agony made him want to vomit over the side of the balcony where they watched the arena fights.

To put it simply, he was the exact opposite of his brother.

Where Roman was disgusted, Remus was thrilled. Where Roman wanted to gouge his own eyes out, Remus watched with unrestrained glee, which was probably why Remus had become Queen Scarlet’s champion. After a prisoner had won a few fights, Scarlet always sent Remus in. She said that if they could beat him, they could go free.

No dragon had ever beaten Remus.

So when Roman saw his brother was going to fight, he knew it was going to be a short one.

“Welcome to today’s battle!” Prince Vermilion, the announcer, shouted from the center of the arena. “In this corner, we have Horizon of the SandWings!” he swept a wing to the side where Horizon cowered. Horizon was bigger than Remus, but he still looked terrified. Roman could see the SandWing’s legs trembling from his spot next to Scarlet.

“And in the other corner, we have Her Majesty’s champion, Prince Remus of the SkyWings!”

The crowd roared so loudly they shook the stadium. Roman had to suppress a wince. Remus grinned and basked in the crowd’s cheering.

Vermilion spread his wings and started to rise slowly. “Are our battlers prepared? Claws out! Teeth ready! FIGHT!” Vermilion flew over to the balcony and landed beside Roman to watch the battle unfold.

Horizon turned and bolted, then stopped, as if just realizing he was trapped. He whirled around and faced Remus, growling. His barbed tail lashed, sending clouds of sand to stir up around him.

Remus, meanwhile, hadn’t moved a muscle. Horizon, unsure of what to do, swiped a talon at him, but Remus sidestepped easily and twisted, flinging sand into the SandWing’s eyes. Horizon hissed and shook his head to dispel the grit, clawing at his eyes. While he was blinded, Remus lunged forward and shoved him into the ground, but Horizon managed to scramble away. He turned around and raised his poisonous barbed tail like a scorpion, hissing.

Beside Roman, Queen Scarlet yawned. “Get on with it!” she yelled. Remus glanced at her and Horizon pounced, his claws aimed at the champion’s throat.

Remus whipped around, suddenly holding a knife. He stabbed upward with the knife, hitting Horizon in the chest just before he could tear out Remus’ throat. The SandWing crumbled to the ground, coughing and spitting out blood. Horizon was dead within moments. Remus pulled the knife free and wiped it on his frilly sleeves, staining them red.

Vermilion grunted. “Good one.”

As the guards rushed to clean up the mess, Remus flew up to the balcony, grinning. “Did you see how fast I did that?” he said, catching up to Roman as he started to walk back to their chambers. “That was too easy. The criminals are slacking.”

Roman smirked. “Or maybe you’re just really good at your job. Where did you hide that knife anyway?”

“I hid it up my-”

“You know what, I don’t want to know.”

“-sleeve. I was going to say sleeve.”

“Right. I knew that.”

Roman stepped into the room he and Remus shared. A black line divided the room in half, with Roman’s side being mostly red and white and Remus’s mostly green and black. Despite the palace having more rooms than Queen Scarlet could ever use, Roman insisted on sharing a room with Remus. It just felt… right.

Remus moved to his half of the room, placing his knife on the wall where an assortment of weapons hung. He started to rearrange his weapons in an order Roman could never figure out. As far as he knew, there was no rhyme or reason to it.

“Did you hear the news?”

Roman was busy dusting off his cloak and wrapping it around his shoulders, studying himself in his floor to ceiling mirror. “What news?”

He could feel Remus’s eyes on his back. “You seriously don’t know?”

Roman narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

Remus shrugged and turned back to his wall of weapons. “King Gill of the SeaWings has been assassinated.”

Roman sighed. “So soon after the RainWings lost Princess Toucan. When was that, a week ago?”

Remus didn’t reply.

He looked over his shoulder, concerned. “Remus?”

For a second, he thought Remus looked… worried? But then the moment passed and the grin was back.

“Yep! That was just a week ago. Time flies when royalty’s getting murdered!”

“Indeed,” Roman murmured as he finally did the clasp for his cloak. Suddenly, something occurred to him. He stepped over the line that divided the room in half. “How did you know Gill was murdered? Of course,” he answered himself. “You’re Remus.”

“That I am, brother,”

Just then, a SkyWing burst into the room, panting hard. Roman widened his eyes and moved forward to catch her as she listed to the side.

“Th-thank you,” she said after she got her breathing under control. “Queen Scarlet wishes to see you both in her throne room, Your Highnesses.” she bowed deeply to both of them before swiftly leaving the room.

He glanced at Remus nervously. Being summoned by the queen in the Sky Kingdom was never good. “Do you know what she wants?”

“Why would I know?”

“I don’t know! You just seem to know everything that happens around here!”

Remus pondered that for a moment. “Fair enough.”

“...Do you want to go see what she wants?”

“That would be great.”

“There you are! You took your time.” Queen Scarlet’s voice had an unnatural cheer to it, as if the slightest inconvenience would send her on a murder spree (that had happened once. Roman had been horrified.)

Roman bowed deeply. “We apologize for being late, Your Majesty.” he could feel her gaze searing into his head. He resolutely kept his eyes on the ground and his expression blank. He didn’t dare move a muscle.

Remus crouched beside him. “Suck up,” he hissed, too quietly for Queen Scarlet to hear.

He wanted to protest, to say that no, he was not a suck up, but Scarlet was looking at them exasperatedly, and he valued his life, thank you very much.

“Oh, you can get up,” she said when neither of them moved for a few moments. “I have a very important job for you.”

Roman got up slowly, eyeing her warily, and nudged Remus, prompting him to do the same. “What you may not know is that King Gill of the SeaWings has been murdered,” Queen Scarlet said, far too casually for the topic she was discussing. “The other queens are setting up a meeting at the SandWing stronghold to discuss what to do next and all that. You two are going to represent the SkyWings! Isn’t that thrilling? You should go to your room to prepare, you leave first thing tomorrow.”

Roman nodded and dipped his head. “We’ll get packed right away Your Majesty.” he wondered why she wasn’t going herself, but from the way she was looking at them, he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask.

“You better. Oh, and Roman?” she said, making him stop and turn around to face her.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Don’t disappoint me.”

Roman shouldered his pack as he waited for the guards to join them at the front of the palace. He and Remus had finished packing ages ago, and he was just about to lose his mind. He was still pondering what Queen Scarlet had said to him before.

Don’t disappoint me. What did that mean? He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he did disappoint her, whatever that meant.

“Didn’t Queen Scarlet say she would talonpick the guard herself?” Remus said irritably, flinging rocks off the edge of the palace and watching them skitter down the mountain. “So what’s taking her so damn long?”

“Shush!” Roman hissed, looking around to see if anyone heard. “You never know who’s listening. However,” he added in a hushed tone, leaning toward Remus, “I agree wholeheartedly.”

“Prince Roman,” a voice from behind him said.

He immediately straightened his posture and whirled around to face the speaker.

He found himself face to face with his sister, Princess Ruby. She had a wing of six SkyWings at her side, all who were much bigger and more threatening than him. Ruby flicked her tail and the guards formed a line behind her.

“Prince Remus,” she acknowledged his twin with a dip of her head before turning back to Roman. “We’re ready to depart whenever you are.”

Roman nodded and turned toward the horizon. “Let’s go while there’s still daylight left. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

Six days and far too many complaints of aching wings later, the SandWing stronghold was finally within sight.

They touched down on the burning sand. Roman checked to make sure everyone was still following him, then made his way to the palace.

Remus walked alongside him. “I hope a fight breaks out. Remember last time? Now that was entertainment! I don’t think I’ve seen Ruby so angry before!”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that this time,” Ruby said from behind them. “As long as Queen Thorn doesn’t make passive aggressive comments and Prince Nightstalker has learned to hold his tongue-”

“-And none of us wound Queen Glacier’s pride.” Roman added.

“And Queen Coral doesn’t take every comment as an insult toward the SeaWing royal family,” Remus piped up.

Ruby sighed. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Roman tilted his golden wings to catch the sunlight. “Well, let’s try to be as diplomatic as dragonly possible, shall we?”

Princess Ruby offered him a small, rare smile. “You simply ask for the impossible, brother.” The three chuckled as they approached the heavy, iron doors of the stronghold.

The two SandWing guards that stood at the entrance of the stronghold raised their spears at the approaching SkyWings threateningly. “Your names and titles.”

“Prince Roman of the SkyWings.”

“Prince and Champion Remus of the SkyWings.”

“Princess and General Ruby of the SkyWings.”

The SandWing guards shared a glance, probably wondering why Queen Scarlet was not present. Roman picked at the flap of his satchel and prayed that they wouldn’t mention it.

Fortunately, the guards pulled the heavy doors open without questioning them. They began to accompany the SkyWings down a long hallway lined with torches as Ruby ordered the SkyWing guard to stay outside. They were eventually led into a large room made of sandstone. A circular table took up a majority of the room. As they entered the room, Roman’s eyes were drawn to the large, black box that sat in the corner. A strange hissing sound emanated from the box, and he wondered what was in it.

His attention was drawn back to the table as more dragons arrived. Despite living a great distance away from the sand kingdom, they were the second to arrive, beaten only by the RainWings.

“You’re Prince Roman, aren’t you?”

He whirled around. In front of him stood a peculiar looking RainWing. His scales were blue and black, a strange color combination for a RainWing to choose. Glasses sat upon his triangular face, and spikes ran down his neck and ended on the tip of his tail.

“You would be correct in assuming that I am Prince Roman,” he said, quickly regaining his wits. He looked closely at the shorter dragon. “I can’t say that I’ve seen you around before. What’s your name?”

The RainWing adjusted his glasses. “My name is Logan, advisor to Queen Grandeur.”

“Advisor? I didn’t think advisors were… important enough to be present here.”

Logan frowned, but ignored his comment. “Anyway, I approached you to inquire about Queen Scarlet’s absence.”

Roman opened his mouth, but had no idea what he was supposed to say. She was busy? Had other matters to attend to? Now Logan was staring at him expectantly and he still hadn’t come up with an excuse and oh moons he was going to disappoint all his SkyWing ancestors-

He was saved from eternal embarrassment by a roar for a silence. The meeting was about to begin.

Roman gave Logan an awkward smile and quickly took his seat between Remus and Ruby, near the corner where the black box sat. He turned his attention towards the head of the table, where Queen Thorn looked uncomfortable sitting on an elaborate throne. Beside her was her NightWing-SandWing hybrid daughter, Princess Sunny. She was a small, golden yellow dragon that looked entirely out of place in the midst of all the royals.

Next to Sunny was the NightWing queen, Queen Voidwalker and her son, Prince Nightstalker. Voidwalker was gazing regally around the table, and with a jolt Roman remembered that she could read minds as well as see the future. He ducked his head as her gaze landed on him. On Voidwalker’s other side was Queen Glacier of the IceWings. She looked miserable in the heat, and was constantly fanning herself with her wings. Her guards sat behind her, still as statues.

Queen Moorhen of the Mudwings sat next to the IceWing. Like Glacier, she hadn’t brought anyone else from the royal family. Her guards were nowhere to be seen. Queen Coral and her daughter, Princess Tsunami, sat next to Remus. Both of the SeaWings were drowning in pearls and other jewelry (it was quiet overkill, in Roman’s humble opinion)

Lastly, on Ruby’s side sat Queen Grandeur of the RainWings and her advisor, Logan. The queen’s scales were a brilliant shade of purple, though they were slowly starting to shift towards green. Logan’s scales were still the same blue and black.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Queen Thorn announced, effectively ending any remaining conversations. She cleared her throat. “We are gathered here today-”

“Oh, skip all the boring stuff, we know why we’re here,” Remus interrupted. Roman elbowed him hard beneath the table. Remus discreetly stuck his tongue out at him.

“Prince Remus is correct,” Queen Voidwalker said, to Roman’s surprise. “every second we spend in inaction is a second given to the assassin. Lives are at stake.”

Princess Tsunami nodded. “They have already taken Princess Toucan of the RainWings and Lady Crane of the MudWings.” she paused, her claws digging into the table. “And my father, King Gill of the SeaWings.”

The table was silent for a moment.

Queen Glacier broke the silence. “Is there a pattern to these murders?”

Logan replied, “Not any pattern that makes sense. The assassin’s first victim was Princess Toucan. However, they left the queen and her granddaughter alone, which of course we’re all grateful for, but doesn’t make sense if the assassin’s goal is to kill the royal families. Next, the assassin went to the Mud Kingdom and killed Lady Crane. What puzzles me is after visiting the Mud Kingdom, the killer flies all the way back to the Sea Kingdom with no reported sightings in between.” Logan took a deep breath. “The only pattern I can find is the victims are all from different tribes.”

“Who’s doing this?” Princess Sunny asked nervously. Roman didn’t miss the way her voice shook.

“I think the real question is who’s going to be next?” Voidwalker growled, clenching her fists. “The killer’s murders seem to be random, so we cannot rely on a pattern.”

“If I may add something,” Roman cut in. “I think it is important to note that no queens have been killed.”

“Yet,” Queen Coral said in the high, paranoid voice of hers. “They have already taken my king. It’s safe to assume that no one in the royal family-or anyone, for that matter- is safe from this killer.”

“So the most we can do is keep an eye on our families?” Queen Grandeur demanded, flaring the ruff on her neck. “That doesn’t sound like much of a solution, I’m afraid.”

“Actually,” Queen Thorn said, drawing everyone’s attention to her. “this brings me to the reason I called you all here.”

This piqued the interest of the royals. Roman raised a brow, prompting her to continue.

“I propose a continent wide dragon hunt.” Queen Thorn continued. “My hope is that we find and apprehend the assassin quickly and we can put this all behind us.”

Silence filled the room as the royals contemplated this.

“It’s preposterous,” Prince Nightstalker said after a moment despite Queen Voidwalker shooting him a glare. “We need our armies at our palaces to defend the royal family. We shouldn’t spread our forces too thin.”

“On the contrary,” said Queen Moorhen, lifting her large, flat head. “If we combine our forces, finding the killer won’t be a problem. They can’t hide from all the seven tribes. Not for long, at least.”

As the room dissolved into arguing and shouts, the hissing from the black box only grew louder. Roman flinched as Ruby stretched her long neck and added her roaring to the noise. He resisted the urge to cover his ears and settled for digging his claws into the wooden table and gritting his teeth, praying to the moons that the yelling would stop.

A bloodcurdling scream was what finally silenced the noise.

A viper the size of Roman’s entire body had latched onto Queen Grandeur’s throat.

At first, stunned silence. Then, Logan stumbled back, eyes wide with fear, followed by ear splitting shrieks.

All the dragons ran for the hallway, pushing and shoving anyone in their way. Roman was thrown to the ground by an IceWing guard. He clutched his bag close to his chest as his heart pounded and he staggered to his feet, looking around wildly for Remus and Ruby. They were nowhere in sight.

“Remus!” he roared, pushing through the crowd of panicked royals and guards. “REMUS!”

He was slowly being pushed toward the hallway when he suddenly tripped. He hissed as someone stepped on his claws. Roman craned his neck to see what he tripped on and stifled a scream.

The empty, sightless eyes of Queen Grandeur stared back at him, the dead snake coiled around her neck. He shuddered and got to his feet.

“Prince Roman?” a voice from behind him called out.

“Not right now, I need to find my brother and make sure he’s okay-”

“Prince Roman.”

He turned around. Logan was crouched over Grandeur’s body in the now empty meeting room. He had tossed the snake’s body to the side and was currently trying to heave the body up.

“I... may... require some assistance,” Logan said with a huff, letting the body fall to the floor.

Roman blinked, setting aside his internal panic. “Of- of course.” He slung the queen’s body across his back, grunting with the effort. She was much heavier than she looked.

The two walked side by side down the hallway, Logan muttering under his breath while Roman looked for any signs of Remus and Ruby. He was really starting to worry and almost regretted helping the RainWing instead of looking for his tribemates.

“Dragonbite viper,” Logan said as they exited the palace.

“Sorry?” Roman said absently, his gaze sweeping across the empty desert.

“That snake was called a dragonbite viper. The only snake on the continent that can kill a dragon with a single bite.”

“Oh.” was all Roman said.

They continued across the sand, the sun’s heat beating onto Roman’s scales, yet he refused to rest. He was afraid that if he stopped walking, he would give in to the panic and not be able to get up again.

“This was most certainly the assassin’s doing,” Logan said matter-of-factly. “It’s too deliberate to be a coincidence.” Roman was too tired to reply.

After what felt like an eternity of walking, they came across an oasis. Roman set down the body onto the sand and rubbed his aching shoulders. It was fully dark. Two full moons hung in the sky, the third barely visible behind the clouds.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked softly. He wasn’t sure if he was asking Logan or himself.

“Go back to the rainforest, firstly.” Logan answered. “Then hunt down the assassin. They are not getting away with this.”

Privately, Roman thought the tiny RainWing was biting off more than he could chew, but he kept that thought to himself.

“Logan!” a voice from above called. Roman tensed, then relaxed when he realized the voice belonged to a RainWing.

Logan squinted at the sky. “Is that… Emile?”

Emile landed and immediately ran towards his friend. “We searched everywhere for hours! We thought you were dead!” His scales turned from camouflage to a radiant yellow.

“Well, as you can see, I am alive and well. But the queen…”

Emile’s scales turned a desolate grey and his smile melted. “So the rumors are true?”

Logan nodded in affirmation, and the two RainWings lowered their heads. Roman stood awkwardly to the side, desperately wanting to leave to search for his companions, but not wanting to interrupt them.

After a moment of silence, Emile lifted his head. “I have a message for you. Prin- Queen Glory wants you to stay away from the rainforest until the assassin is caught.”

Logan furrowed his brows. “Did she say why?”

Emile shook his head. “She wouldn’t give any more details. I think she’s afraid the killer will target you because you witnessed the murder.”

Logan shuddered. “Understood.”

“Oh! Before I forget!” Emile said. “Um, you’re Prince Roman, right?”

He nodded.

“Queen Scarlet had a message for you.”

Roman widened his eyes. “Really? What did she say?”

He fidgeted with his claws nervously. “She- she said that you are tasked with finding the assassin,” he looked up apologetically. “and you can’t go back to the Sky Kingdom until you do so.”

Roman opened his mouth, then closed it, searching for the right words. Why would Queen Scarlet choose him? He was hardly qualified to find a killer. His skills mostly consisted of storytelling and painting. Remus was the one who was good at fighting. Does she want to get rid of me that badly?

He finally settled for “Thank you, er… Emile, was it? I’ll try my best.” If I don’t die first.

Emile coughed uncomfortably. “Well, I’ll take Grandeur and be on my way, I guess.” he heaved Grandeur onto his shoulders and crouched to leap in the air.

“Wait!” Roman said, a question on the tip of his tongue. “Have you seen my siblings, Remus and Ruby?”

Emile brightened. “Actually, I have seen Ruby on her way to the Sky Palace, though I have not seen Remus. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize!” on the outside he was smiling, but a fresh wave of worry threatened to overwhelm him. Was his brother okay? Where did he go? And more importantly, how in the world was he supposed to find an assassin?

As Emile left with the queen and his squadron of RainWings, Logan’s frill fluttered nervously. “Seeing as I’m unable to return to the rain kingdom, I could perhaps… assist you in your search?”

That stirred Roman out of his thoughts. “Really? You?”

Logan shot him a glare. “Yes, me. It might surprise you, but I am not entirely useless.”

Roman scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. It’s just…” he wasn’t sure how to describe whatever it was that he was feeling, but thankfully, Logan seemed to understand.

“It’s quite alright,” he said. He began to make preparations for the night, making indentations in the sand for them to sleep in. Roman had a feeling that the strange RainWing would find a way to follow him, whether or not he refused his companionship.

“I’ll stay awake to keep watch for threats,” Roman said.

Logan yawned. “Wake me when you begin to feel tired. A sleeping guard won’t do anybody any good.” his eyes were already closing, and within moments, Logan was asleep.

For a while, Roman paced back and forth, too energized to sit still. Twice he almost stepped on a scorpion. He lost count of how many times he heard wingbeats and looked up hopefully, only for it to be a bat or some other desert dwelling creature.

He was about to wake Logan for the next shift when he heard a snap.Suddenly alert, Roman headed toward the noise.

He could barely make out the silhouette of a dragon on the other side of the oasis, drinking from the small pond. Roman crouched down and snuck along the perimeter of the pond, trying not to make a sound. As he crept closer, he realized the dragon was an IceWing. Spikes sprouted from the IceWing’s neck and went down their back. The dragon’s ice colored scales caught the light of the moons, causing them to glisten.

What if this is the assassin? He thought. Am I skilled enough to fight them?

Despite his hammering heart and every rational thought screaming at him to wake Logan and run, he snarled and pounced, landing squarely on the IceWing’s back.

The IceWing roared and threw him off. Sand filled his nose and mouth and he coughed. She was on him in an instant, pinning him to the ground. The IceWing’s claws dug into his shoulders, drawing blood.

Roman twisted his neck around and sank his teeth into her arm. She roared in pain and tried to wrench her arm free from his grip, but he didn’t let go, even when the sharp taste of blood reached his tongue.

The IceWing finally managed to get free of Roman and stumbled back, giving him enough time to get back on his feet. He crouched in a defensive stance, but the expression on the IceWing’s face stopped him from attacking.

“Wait… are you Prince Roman?” she asked, squinting. Dark blue blood dripped from the bite in her arm.

“That is the third time I’ve been asked that question today,” he said, feeling irritated. “You’d think they’d recognize me! I don’t even look like most SkyWings anyway!”

The IceWing gave him a tired look. “Is that a yes?”

“...yes.”

“Then why did you attack me?” Roman flinched at the sudden outburst. “Aren’t you supposed to be brave and honorable or something?”

“Wait, the other tribes really say that about me?” he asked delightedly, rising from his defensive crouch.

“Stop changing the subject.”

“Right,” he grumbled. “Sorry for attacking you. Although, one can’t be too careful in these times.”

The IceWing raised a brow. “Do I really look like an assassin?”

“You did leave these nasty scratches in my shoulders,” Roman whimpered. “I think I might be dying!”

The IceWIng rolled her eyes. “As long as it doesn’t get infected, you’ll be fine. If anyone should be worried, it’s me.” she inspected the gash in her arm. “You left a pretty deep bite in there.”

“Oh, er, sorry about that.”Roman squinted at the IceWing. “Wait, I know you. You’re Frost, aren’t you? First circle IceWing? Youngest member of the royal guard at six years old?”

Frost blinked at him. “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

“Well, Frost, where is your queen? And the rest of the guard? Perhaps I could accompany you-”

“No!” Frost said quickly, her eyes widening. “I mean.” she regained her composure. “I can find my way back on my own.”

Roman blinked at her. “Are you sure? It wouldn’t be any trouble-”

“I’m fine,” she said firmly.

“Well, at least stay with us for the night. No one should be wandering the desert alone. Especially when it’s dark.”

Frost avoided his gaze while she contemplated his offer. Finally, she said, “Alright. But only for tonight. In the morning, I’m leaving.”

He nodded. “That’s fair. Now come and get some rest. You look exhausted.”

He led her to the empty spot next to Logan. It took some time to convince her that no, he was not going to kill her in her sleep and yes, she was completely safe here.

As Frost finally fell asleep, Roman realized how tired he was. He briefly considered waking Logan, but decided not to. Perhaps a part of him still clung to a small, foolish hope that Remus would show up, laugh Roman’s worries away, and they could go hunt the assassin down together.

No such hope arrived.

As Roman watched the horizon steadily turn brighter, he wondered what his brother was doing now, and if he was even alive.

“Roman, who is that?”

Roman jerked awake, blinking in bewilderment. The sun had fully risen and was slowly making its way across the sky.

“What?” he asked groggily when he finally registered Logan’s question.

The RainWing sighed and pointed at Frost, who was still asleep. “Who is that IceWing? I almost spat my venom at her.”

Roman blinked the last of the sleep away. “Oh, Frost? She was one of the IceWing guards that came with Queen Glacier. I told her she could stay at the oasis for the night.”

Logan sat back on his hind legs and rubbed his forehead. “This kind of… politeness… will only bring about more trouble. There is a murderer on the loose, remember?”

Roman frowned. “Just because there’s a killer out there doesn’t mean we have to stop being nice to strangers.”

“Those words are going to be written on my tombstone, aren’t they?”

“What’re you two yapping on about?” Frost said from behind them, sounding irritated. She stretched each leg one at a time before climbing the sand dune to join them.

Logan sighed. “Nothing of importance. Isn’t it about time you were on your way, Frost?”

Frost rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, I gotta fly over the entire rainforest today. That’s gonna be fun.”

Roman narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t the Ice kingdom in the opposite direction of the rainforest?”

Frost froze, looking trapped. “Well, um, Queen Glacier said that she wanted to speak with the Queen of the RainWings before going back to the Ice Kingdom?”

Before Roman could even blink, Logan was on the IceWing’s back, his fangs aimed at her throat. “She’s lying, Roman,” he said quickly. “She’s the assassin. She was probably on her way to the MudWings or SeaWings, if I had to guess.”

“Wait!” Frost exclaimed, struggling to stand under Logan’s weight. “I swear by my mother’s grave that I’m not the assassin. I have an explanation for this.” Logan hesitated and glanced at Roman, unsure. Roman nodded slightly and Logan sighed, getting off of Frost.

“Fine. You may explain, but one wrong move and I give you a face full of venom.”

Frost growled softly. “I didn’t get separated from my tribe, I ran away. And I don’t plan on going back either.” she glared at both of them. “That good enough for you?”

They were both silent for a few moments.

Logan stared at her, shocked. “You would abandon your tribe? After all they’ve done for you?”

“They didn’t do shit for me.” she snarled, lashing her tail. “You haven’t lived with the IceWings. Maybe your tribe actually cares about its dragons, but mine didn’t. You don’t know anything.”

Logan shook his head, bewildered. “I don’t understand.”

But Roman did understand, sort of. He understood the feeling of wanting to leave your tribe because they’ve hurt you, and how could they possibly be your tribe if they’ve hurt you? How were they supposed to be your family if they cared so little for you?

Roman stepped forward. “I may not understand exactly why you left, but I understand that you’re not here to hurt anyone.”

Frost stared at him suspiciously. “So you’re letting me go? Just like that?”

“Hold on,” Logan said, eyeing the IceWing warily. “I think we’re being a little hasty. I don’t think we should let her go just yet.”

Roman turned to him. “So what do you suppose we do?”

“Simple. We take her with us. If she is the assassin, then you,” he nodded at Roman. “have completed your task and you can go back to the Sky Kingdom. If she isn’t, then she’ll help us find the actual assassin.” he turned to Frost. “Isn’t that right?”

Frost was silent for a moment, seeming to realize that she was trapped. “Fine. It’s not like I have anything better to do. But after all this is over, I am owed an apology.”

Logan ignored her last statement and turned to him. “What should our next course of action be? I am reluctant to admit this, but,” he added in a low voice. “I don’t have a single clue where we should start. I’ve thought about it, trying to find a pattern or a lead or something, but I have had no luck.”

Roman thought back to the meeting and the moment the Dragonbite viper appeared. “You know, back in the meeting room, there was a black box in one of the corners. I’m sure I heard hissing noises coming from it.”

Logan tilted his head thoughtfully. “So you think we should go back to the SandWing Stronghold and investigate this black box?”

“Yep!” he wiggled his tail happily. “Oooh, I feel like a real detective!”

Logan sighed and muttered something along the lines of, “I am surrounded by idiots.”

“So that’s your big plan?” Frost cut in. “What about after that? The assassin could be anywhere.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Roman said, turning in the direction of the stronghold. “For now, we’ve got a SandWing Queen to visit.”

“What’s even the point of coming back here?” Frost complained, using her wings to shield herself from the sun. “I don’t think Thorn will have any information. Grandeur was killed by a snake. And are you sure that snake was planted by the assassin? Maybe Thorn just had a Dragonbite Viper that unfortunately got loose.”

Logan frowned. “Why would Thorn keep a Dragonbite Viper, of all snakes?”

Frost shrugged. “I don’t know, SandWings are weird.”

Roman gritted his teeth. “Why would she keep the snake in the meeting room, of all places? No, it was too deliberate to be a coincidence. We have to ask her where that black box came from.”

Frost sighed. “You keep mentioning this… black box, but are you sure you didn’t imagine it? I didn’t see it.”

“It was shoved in a corner. Lots of dragons didn’t see it.”

“Whatever you say, Your Highness.” she said mockingly.

Roman suppressed a sigh and kept walking. The past day they had been trekking back to the stronghold, enduring the brutal heat of the desert. Frost, as the only IceWing, had it the worst, but Roman was surprised that she didn’t complain (much). But even if she didn’t complain, however, she did find great joy in finding everything wrong with every sentence that came out of his mouth, and that was starting to get on his nerves.

“We’re here!” Logan shouted from the top of the next sand dune. After making sure they were following, he started down the other side of the dune. Roman struggled up the side of the dune and sat down at the top with a huff. Frost settled beside him, wiping sweat from her brow but otherwise looking unbothered.

Logan was already walking towards the Stronghold and Roman scrambled down the mountain of sand. Frost glided down gracefully and landed beside him, smirking.

Show off, Roman thought to himself.

Up ahead, Logan was already talking to the SandWing guards in front of the palace.

“-so we need to see the queen,” Logan was saying to the guards. “And quickly, if possible.”

Roman walked up to them while Frost hung back. “It is of the utmost importance.”

The guards glanced at each other, uncertain. Then, the guard on the right nodded and opened the door.

“Fine, but make it quick.” She turned to Frost. “And the IceWing stays here.”

“What? Why?” Frost asked, eyes wide.

“You say you’re here on royal business? Well, you’re not royalty.” she nodded at her partner. “Keep an eye on her.”

Frost opened her mouth to protest, but was stopped by a glare from Logan. She clamped her jaw shut and sat down angrily.

As they were escorted into the stronghold, Roman leaned down and whispered, “How much did you tell them?”

Logan kept his gaze forward. “Enough to get us an audience with Queen Thorn.”

Roman drew back, uneasy. He wasn’t sure he wanted all of Pyrrhia to know he had been sent on a fool’s quest. Nevertheless, he kept his chin up, his back straight, and his eyes forward.

They were led through long hallways and winding tunnels, so many that Roman wondered how anyone could possibly navigate it. Eventually, they arrived at a courtyard. Tents were scattered around it, seemingly at random. The SandWing guard beckoned them toward the tent in the middle, calling out to whoever was in it.

“Come in,” called a voice from inside, presumably Thorn. Roman and Logan shared a look before crouching through the front flap.

Pillows lined the inside of the tent. Queen Thorn, Princess Sunny, and other dragons Roman didn’t recognize were sitting around it, engrossed in their own conversations. He counted at least five dragons before Thorn started to speak.

“Prince Roman? I must say, I’m curious to see why you’ve come.” Thorn waved the guard away before giving Roman her full attention.

“Well,” Roman started. “We are here to inquire about Queen Grandeur’s… assassination.” He could feel the stare of several sets of eyes on him, but he kept his gaze on Thorn’s, waiting for a reply.

“Sunny,” Thorn said, standing up. “Stay here and continue with things until I return.”

Sunny looked up at her mother. “But-” she was silenced by Thorn’s stern stare.

Thorn swept past them and beckoned for them to follow her. Roman and Logan followed the Queen back into the palace, entering the first empty room they came across.

Thorn spun around to face them. “Let’s get down to business.” she looked at them, narrowing her eyes. “Why do you want to ask about Grandeur’s… death? If you’re thinking about going after the assassin, I can’t help you.”

“That’s alright, Your Majesty.” Roman said, dipping his head. “All I ask is that you tell us where you acquired the black box that was in the meeting room on that day.”

“What black-Oh.” Thorn’s eyes widened in realization. She pushed past them, beckoning them to follow.

“While I can’t tell you where it came from, I can take you to see it.” She led them through brightly lit passages, a few that were somewhat familiar to him from his previous visits.

Logan frowned thoughtfully. “If I may ask, why can’t you tell us where it came from? It must have come from somewhere.”

Thorn pushed open the door that led to the meeting room. “It just… appeared one day, and I wasn’t notified about it until after the meeting.” she made her way to the other side of the room toward the box, chuckling. “I’m afraid my Outclaws are too used to dealing with problems on their own.”

No one told the queen? What kind of guards are they? He quickly dismissed the thought. It wasn’t his problem if the guards here were unreliable.

Roman leaned closer to the box, inspecting it. It was black, with seven clasps on it, five on the front and one on either side. Thirteen diamond shaped pieces of silver lined the edge of the top of the box, with a single red gem embedded in the center. It was a very beautiful box, and Roman took note of its fine craftsmanship.

Roman cautiously opened the box, almost expecting another snake to jump out of it, but fortunately, it was empty. The inside of the box was bare except for the tiny snake scales that were scattered around the interior. He suppressed a shudder, then felt silly for being scared. The snake was dead, after all.

Logan stared at the box with wide eyes, adjusting his glasses. “You say it just appeared here? Has anyone tried moving it out of this room?”

Thorn nodded. “I was told that someone attempted to, but it would always appear here, no matter where they put it.”

“Do you think someone was moving it? Someone that was in the palace?” Logan asked.

“If you’re suggesting that one of my SandWings is the assassin,” Thorn said. “It’s impossible. Every single SandWings is and has been accounted for. No one had the opportunity to fly across the continent without anyone noticing.”

“Maybe no one here is the assassin, but someone could be helping them. There could be multiple assassins, for all we know,” Logan said, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

Thorn patted Logan on the shoulder. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions. Though I will keep a careful eye out for any traitors.”

Roman sighed. “So that’s it? We’ve hit a dead end?” the box was their only hope. If it didn’t lead anywhere…

“Actually, there is someone you can go talk to,” Thorn said. “I’m hesitant to tell you this, but there’s a dragon that lives on one of the islands in the Bay of a Thousand Scales. This dragon can see the future, like a NightWing, but he’s more likely to help you than Queen Voidwalker is. She hasn’t been very kind to visitors lately.”

Roman frowned. “So we’re looking for a NightWing?”

Thorn smiled. “Not exactly. You’ll see.” she headed out of the room. “I might have a map somewhere that leads to his exact location…”

Roman hesitated as she left the room. “How do you think she knows about this… seer?”

Logan shrugged. “She lived in the Scorpion Den for most of her life, remember? She most likely knows about many of Pyrrhia’s… special dragons.”

“Oh, right.” Roman replied. He vaguely remembered reading something about that in one of his classes he had as a dragonet.

As they followed Thorn down the hall, Roman wondered if they were headed toward another dead end.

“Do you recall what Thorn said? About the box moving on its own?”

“Hmm?” Roman replied. They had been flying over the desert for hours, and the rainforest was just within sight. He was so tired he felt like he could fall asleep up here in the air.

“What?” Frost shrieked from behind them. “A teleporting box? Why does no one tell me these things?”

Logan ignored her. “I don’t think a dragon was moving it.

Roman twisted around to look at him. “Then what do you think it is?”

Logan’s eyes were down, watching the ground pass by them as they flew over it. “I think… I think it might be animus magic.”

“Animus magic? Like from the stories?” Roman vividly recalled reading a scroll about the wonders and dangers of animus magic. It was said that animus dragons could do anything they wanted, the only boundaries being their imaginations. The price of such power, however, was their souls. With each spell they cast, a part of their soul would be lost. Eventually, their soul would deteriorate until they went insane.

Roman had never liked those stories.

Logan nodded. “I know it sounds unreasonable, but it is a possibility that we cannot overlook.”

“So you think the assassin is an animus dragon?” Frost asked. It was only there for a second, but for a moment, Frost looked… terrified. The moment passed, however and the scowl was back on her face.

“It is the only explanation that makes sense,” Logan said, “How else could the assassin move across the continent without being spotted? How else could they kill without leaving a trace?”

No one had a reply to that. Roman tugged on the edge of his sash nervously, feeling sick. If he had to kill an animus, he might as well go back to the Sky Kingdom and face Queen Scarlet’s wrath. Then, at least his death would entertain someone.

But he knew Logan- and maybe even Frost- would keep searching, and though he wouldn’t admit it, he had grown fond of the strange RainWing, and he knew he would always feel a lingering guilt if anything happened to the snarky IceWing.

They flew on in silence, save for the occasional sigh or muttering. Just as Roman felt like he was about to drop out of the sky, Logan called for a rest. They had just made it to the edge of the rainforest, and the cool shade was a welcome change from the unbearable heat of the desert. The sun was about to set, washing everything in a purple and blue glow.

“I’ll take first watch,” Frost said as soon as they found a suitable clearing to sleep in. Trees and other foliage surrounded it, and a small lake occupied a corner. “I’m not that tired anyway.”

“Absolutely not,” Logan snapped. “I’ll take the first watch. Seeing as I am familiar with the rainforest already, I believe I am better suited to look out for potential dangers.”

Frost snorted. “That’s rich, especially because you’re not even-”

Logan shot her a death glare, effectively silencing her. Roman looked at both of them in confusion. “Not even what? Am I missing something?” he wasn’t sure what Frost was going to say, but judging by Logan’s reaction, it was probably offensive.

Logan looked at him in surprise, “You… mean you don’t know?”

He tilted his head. “Don’t know what?”

Frost stifled a snicker. “Well, isn’t this awkward.”

Logan growled at her, but returned his gaze to Roman’s. “I thought- I thought everybody knew.”

Roman looked at the ground, embarrassed. “Well, SkyWing dragonets-especially royalty-aren’t really taught anything about the other tribes. Everything I do know about the other tribes are from scrolls Remus used to sneak into our room.”

The RainWing looked up at him. “So...you don’t know that I am half IceWing?”

Roman gaped at him. “You- you’re a hybrid?”

“Well,” Logan said. “I never knew my parents, but since I cannot change the color of my scales and my venom is… icier than regular venom, I always assumed that I was half IceWing.”

“We were taught that Logan’s… existence was a mistake.” she narrowed her eyes at him. “That hybrids were a mistake.”

Logan snarled. “Well, clearly they were wrong. I am an advisor to the queen and a respected member of her court.” his voice caught on the word ‘queen’. “I don’t think any mistake could accomplish that.”

Roman quickly changed the subject, sensing a fight was about to break out. “So you’re half IceWing? What else can you do?” In the stories he’d read, there weren’t many hybrids, so he was curious to see what they could do.

“Well, my ice venom and camouflage abilities seem to be the only things that were altered.” he glanced down at his body. “Although I have been told that I seem to radiate cold like SandWings radiate heat.”

Roman clasped his talons together. “Can you show us your ice venom?”

Logan gave him a sharp look. “Maybe later. For now, you need to rest. You barely slept last night.”

He suddenly realized how weary he felt. He slumped to the ground, feeling his eyes start to close. “Alright, but… wake me for…”

He was asleep before he could finish his sentence.

Roman woke up to cold water being dumped on his head.

His eyes snapped open. “Hey! Unnecessary!” he sat up, shaking out his soaked claws. “You got my sash wet!” he wailed, taking it off and wringing it out.

Frost rolled her eyes, shaking the water off her tail. “You’ll live.”

Roman grumbled, taking the tiny cloth he had brought with him out of his bag and started drying himself. “So where’s Logan?”

“He said he was going to go find us some food,” she said, sharpening her claws on a rock. “He’s been gone for most of the morning, actually.” she paused for a moment. “He seemed… angry.”

He looked up from his sash, surprised. “Logan left you alone? While I was sleeping?”

Frost kept her eyes on her rock. “I was surprised too. Guess he trusted me not to kill you in your sleep. Even after I was about to insult him about his heritage.” she barked out a humorless laugh. “I may have left the IceWings, but I still act like them.”

Roman set down his cloth, thinking. He wasn’t the best at solving these kinds of problems, but Logan had seemed upset when she made that comment. And Frost said that Logan seemed angry earlier.

“I’m sure that if you go apologize to Logan, everything will be fine,” he said, unsure if Logan would accept an apology.

Frost opened her mouth to reply, but just then, the bushes around the clearing trembled. Logan stumbled out of them, holding various fruits. He let them spill out of his arms and onto the ground, panting.

Roman widened his eyes. “Woah. That is a lot of fruit.”

“I apologize for taking so long. I haven’t gone fruit gathering in… a very long time.” Logan said, sitting down and readjusting his glasses.

Frost poked one of the fruits, looking like she was still contemplating their conversation. “Is this a papaya?” she asked.

Logan eyed her. “That one is actually a mango.”

Frost nodded and picked up a banana. She peeled it and took a bite, wrinkling her nose at the taste. Roman picked a talonful of clementines and started to peel them while Logan put the rest of the fruit in his bag, explaining that he had already eaten on the way back.

As they ate, Logan glanced up at the trees worriedly. “We should hurry,” he said. “I don’t think the RainWings will be hostile, but I would rather we not run into any.”

They finished their meal quickly and set out for the Bay of a Thousand Scales. They skirted around the RainWing village, lying low until they were far enough to fly away. Around midday, they found themselves on the coast, looking out to sea.

Logan pulled out the map Thorn gave them, studying it closely. “So the seer is on this island,” Logan said, pointing to a spot marked with a black circle. It was close to the Mud Kingdom, but there were still hundreds of islands to search.

“How are we supposed to find one island among all the other ones?” Frost complained. “It’s called the Bay of a Thousand Scales for a reason.”

Logan waved his talon for silence. “Don’t worry everyone.” he pointed at the seer’s island. “Do you see that strange looking rock? We can use that as a landmark.”

Frost still looked doubtful. “A rock that is very easy to miss.”

“Well, it is the only thing we have to go on,” Logan said stiffly, rolling up the map and stuffing it back into Roman’s bag. He took off into the sky, lashing his tail.

Frost looked at him with an unreadable expression before lifting off the ground, leaving Roman alone.

He sighed, hanging his bag around his neck. He made sure that it was secure before joining his companions in the air.

They flew for a few hours, searching each island from the sky carefully. Logan had his eyes fixed on the map, almost flying straight into trees and birds on several occasions. Roman had started the search with hope, sure that they would find the island in no time. But as time went on and the sun crawled closer to the horizon, he grew weary. They had searched what felt like hundreds of islands and they still hadn’t found the seer.

Just as Roman was about to give up hope, Frost yelped in surprise and pointed at one of the islands below. A rock stood on the island, identical to the one on the map. Down on the sand, a hooded figure sat and stared up at them. He was standing in front of a small wooden house. It was too dark to see what tribe the mysterious dragon was from, but there was no doubt in Roman’s mind that they were the seer.

The trio touched down on the sand, the water lapping at their talons. They climbed up the hill toward the seer, stumbling and getting sand between their claws. After almost falling flat on his face for the third time, Roman vowed that he wouldn’t step into any place with sand ever again.

“Sand isn’t that bad,” the seer said suddenly. “You get used to it after a while.”

Roman stepped in front of him, blinking. It was as if this dragon had read his mind, but that couldn’t be right. Thorn hadn’t mentioned-

“Looks like someone gave you incomplete information,” the seer interrupted. “Yes, I can read minds.” Of course he’s a mind reader, Roman thought. Figures. The seer put his hood down, interrupting Roman’s train of thought.

His scales were black at first glance, but as Roman looked closer, he could see purple scales under his eyes and going down his neck. They glowed faintly in the dark. Huge webs not unlike a SeaWing’s started near his horns and ran down his back, where they disappeared under his hoodie. Spider webs were tattooed on the membrane of his wings, though they were hard to see under the moonlight.

Frost and Logan stepped up beside him, eyeing the seer warily. Frost took one look at him and growled, “Thorn led us to a mindreader? You really can’t trust a SandWing.”

The seer gave her an unfriendly stare. “You might want to tone down the aggression there, Frosty.” he growled. “You’re already standing on thin ice.”

“You look like you were expecting us,” Roman said. “Did you have a vision?”

The seer chuckled. “No, you were flying around for most of the day. You can’t really miss golden wings that obnoxious.”

“Hey!” Roman squawked, glancing at his wings. Even in the dark, they glowed. “My wings are not obnoxious!”

The seer quirked a brow. “Riiight. Anyway, what’s your name?”

“I’m Roman,” he offered. “What’s your name? What tribe are you from?”

The seer turned his gaze back to Roman. He tilted his head, as if listening to something. He smirked at Roman’s confused expression.

“Virgil,” the seer said at last. “My name is Virgil. And well, I’m sure you can guess what tribe I’m from.”

Roman stared at him. “You look like a NightWing, but those webs…” he gasped. “Are you half SeaWing?”

Virgil nodded, smirking. “You got it faster than I thought you would. Good for you.”

“Virgil,” Logan interrupted, as Roman huffed indignantly. “We’re here to-”

Virgil held up a talon. “I know why you’re here, and the answer is no. I have not had any visions, and no, I am not going with you.”

Roman shook his head, looking at him in dismay. “But we haven’t even told you what we’re here for! Just let us explain!” No! He’s our only hope!

“You don’t need to. You forget you’re talking to a mindreader.” Virgil looked at him sympathetically. “You can stay for the night, but you should go in the morning. I don’t want to get caught up in this.”

Roman dug his claws into the ground, ripping up a plant from its roots. “So that’s it?” he roared suddenly, causing Frost to flinch and shrink away from him. “We came all this way to see you, and you won’t even let us explain? Won’t even try?”

“Oh, I’m sorry that I’m not willing to put my life on the line to catch some stupid assassin!” Virgil shouted back, surprising him. Virgil turned to the small wooden house, taking deep breaths.

Logan cleared his throat. “How about we sort this out in the morning?” he asked hesitantly. “We’re all tired, and perhaps a good night’s rest will be beneficial.”

Virgil nodded, his back still turned to them. “All right,” he said softly. “Once you enter the house, go in the room on the left. That’s where you’ll be sleeping for the night.”

Virgil went around to the back of the hut without another word.

The three were silent for a moment.

“I think you made him mad,” Frost commented, breaking the silence.

“Oh, really? Thank you for telling me, Frost, I wouldn’t have noticed.” Roman yelled, still fuming. Frost stepped back and hissed. It didn’t occur to him until much later that she had looked angry, but also… fearful.

“Let’s just go and get some rest,” Logan interjected, leading them into the house. “It has been a very long day.”

The room they had been given was small, with two pieces of cloth on the floor to sleep on. “We have to sleep on these?” Roman hissed.

“I’m sorry they aren’t up to your standards, Your Highness.” Frost spat from the other side of the room. “Do you want me to go find you some polar bear fur to sleep on? Perhaps some sheeps’ wool? Or maybe you’d prefer eagle feathers?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Roman shot back.

“Enough,” Logan ordered, stepping between the fighting dragons. “Stop it, you two. You can work it out in the morning, just let me sleep for Moons’ sake.”

Frost snarled at him one last time before curling up on the floor, her back turned to him. Roman glared and laid on the piece of cloth, trying to a comfortable position. The room could fit two dragons comfortably, but with three, it was cramped. After much shuffling around, Roman settled on laying on his side with Logan’s tail poking his back. The cold radiating off of Frost’s scales made him shiver.

Maybe we can convince Virgil in the morning, He thought hopefully, but he doubted it. He had seemed pretty adamant in his decision.

Roman wondered what he would do if he couldn’t convince Virgil to come with them. Look for Remus, he thought, determined. Brother, please be alive. I still need to find you.

Please.

Virgil didn’t usually get angry. That night had been an exception.

He opened the back door, stepped inside, then closed it quietly. A pair of blue eyes greeted him.

“Are you okay?” Patton asked. “I heard shouting outside.”

Virgil avoided his gaze. “Yeah, I’m fine. They’re sleeping in the other room, but they’ll be gone in the morning.”

Patton fiddled with his tiny bag and fluttered his wings nervously. “The one you were talking to sounded desperate.”

Virgil began to take his hoodie off, careful not to tear it. “He was desperate,” he said, moving over to the spot on the floor where he slept. “But it’s not my problem.”

Patton nodded hesitantly from his spot on the bed. “I just… wish we could do more to help.” he pulled a small rock out from his bag and began to fiddle with it.

Virgil turned his back to the bed so Patton couldn’t see his expression.

I do too.

Virgil woke up feeling more anxious than usual. He could hear both mental and verbal voices from the other side of the house. Patton sat up and yawned, feeling around for his glasses. Virgil got up and handed them to him, already moving across the room to put his hoodie on.

Patton hummed as he got up to leave the room. “Do you mind if I go whip something up for our guests?” he asked, pausing in the doorway. “I think we have some fruit left over from that RainWing market.”

“Yeah, sure,” Virgil said, “But aren’t they going to notice that you’re… different?”

“What, that I look nothing like any tribe that lives on this continent?” he smiled, brandishing his butterfly-like wings. “I think I’ll be fine.”

As Virgil got ready, he listened to the conversation outside his room.

“Does that dragon have four wings or am I just sleep deprived?” that was the IceWing speaking.

“Frost, you got plenty of sleep last night,” said the RainWing (Or IceWing? Virgil wasn’t sure. His mind was confusing)

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean.”

“I do have four wings. I’m a SilkWing!” Patton interjected. “I’m from the other continent, across the ocean.”

Virgil winced as the RainWing’s brain was suddenly filled with questions. Another continent? Across the ocean? SilkWing?

“How did you get here?” asked the RainWing.

“Oh, I came here on a boat and shipwrecked on this island,” Patton replied sadly. “Virgil found me and gave me shelter while I recovered.”

Frost sighed. “Royal assassins, teleporting boxes, and now a dragon from another continent?” he heard the spikes on her back clatter. “Sure, why not?”

“But… why did you come here?” the RainWing asked.

He could hear Patton’s voice drop. “Well, on my continent, SilkWings aren’t treated fairly. My sister eventually convinced me to find this continent and get help, but… now I have no way to go back.”

An awkward silence followed soon after.

Virgil decided to announce himself before things got even more awkward. All eyes turned to him as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Virgil!” Patton greeted cheerfully.

“Good morning,” the RainWing said, dipping his head. “I don’t think I introduced myself last night. My name is Logan.”

Logan elbowed the IceWing in the side. “Ow!” she yelped, jumping away from him. “What was that for?”

You are seriously asking to get bitten, she thought angrily.

“Introduce yourself!” Logan hissed in what he probably thought was a quiet voice.

“Fine, fine,” she said, turning to Virgil. “My name’s Frost. Happy?” she hissed the last word to Logan.

Virgil nodded to both of them uncertainly before turning to Patton, who was peeling various fruits and setting them into wooden bowls. “How much food is left?”

Patton finished with the fruit and turned to wash his talons in a bucket of water. “This is the last of it. We’ll have to go to the market soon.” he jerked his head toward the table where Logan and Frost stood awkwardly. “I’m just getting finished here. Why don’t you join the others?”

Virgil sighed and went to wait by the table. He took a seat and gestured for the others to do the same.

“Soooo,” Frost said casually as she sat in the chair opposite Virgil. “You know about the assassin?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Of course I have. I don’t live under a rock.”

Right, of course. He’s a seer... And a mindreader, Frost glanced at him distrustfully. He smirked in response.

“Anyway,” he said, changing the subject. “Where’s your prince friend?”

“I’m right here.”

Roman was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes. He barely spared Virgil a glance before sitting next to Logan.

Virgil frowned. The night before, Roman’s mind was just like any others: laid out in front of him and easy to read. Maybe not as easy to read as Logan’s or Frost’s, but not too difficult either. Now, it was all muddled and… blocked off. Just like mother’s was. He quickly pushed the thought away.

“Breakfast is ready!” Patton sang, interrupting his train of thought. A bowl of fruit was dropped in front of each dragon.

Roman blinked at the SilkWing. “Who are you? Are you some sort of hybrid?”

“I’m Patton!” Patton replied. “And no, I’m not a hybrid, exactly…”

Virgil shifted his focus to Roman as Patton started to explain where he came from. His expression was tired, and his shoulders were tense.

Roman caught him staring and Virgil looked away quickly.

“So, what’re you planning to do now?” Patton asked as they ate.

Evidently, this was the wrong question to ask. Frost choked on her fruit and tried to cover it up with a cough. Logan looked to Roman with a raised brow. Virgil didn’t need to read his mind to know he was thinking Yeah, what are we going to do?

Roman looked trapped, and Virgil was surprised to see that he sympathized with him. He looked down at his food and avoided the gaze of everyone at the table.

“We’ll figure something out,” was Roman’s reply. Patton widened his eyes as if just realizing his mistake, but said nothing.

The table was silent for a long, awkward moment.

“So,” Frost mused, nodding at Patton. “What’s that rock for?”

“Oh, this?” Patton held up the small black rock he’d been fiddling with. “It’s…”

He looked to Virgil, uncertain. He hesitated, then nodded.

“It’s called skyfire,” Patton continued. “And it can block mind reading.”

Frost almost choked on her food again. She coughed and asked, “You didn’t think to mention this earlier?”

“It won’t matter,” Virgil said. “You won’t be around mindreaders for a while.”

He pretended not to notice Roman’s talons curling into fists.

Logan leaned forward. “Hypothetically, if someone wanted to obtain some of this skyfire, where would they find it?”

“Well, if they were to, hypothetically, ask me,” Virgil replied. “They wouldn’t get an answer.”

The clouds around Roman’s mind cleared enough for Virgil to hear, He literally couldn’t get any more annoying.

“Careful, Princey,” Virgil said, smirking. “I don’t think you want me as an enemy.”

Roman clenched his fists but said nothing. They finished the meal in silence.

A few minutes later, Virgil and Patton were standing on the sand to see Roman, Logan, and Frost off.

“Thank you for letting us stay the night,” Logan said gratefully, dipping his head.

Virgil nodded back. “It was really no problem, but,” he added in a hushed tone, “I’m… sorry that I couldn’t help more, it’s just-”

“It’s fine, we understand.” Logan glanced at Roman. “Well, most of us do, anyway.”

As Logan went to join the others, Virgil turned to walk back into the house. Before he could, however, he felt a tug on his hoodie sleeve and the unmistakable sound of tearing fabric.

“Hey! You tore my hoodie!” Virgil yelped, glaring at the dragon who tore it, which turned out to be Roman.

Roman widened his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to ask-”

Virgil shoved Roman away, but he suddenly felt dizzy. He stumbled, and Roman caught him.

“Woah, are you alright?” he turned around to yell something, but Virgil could barely hear him as images started to flood his brain.

The five of them, trapped in a snowstorm.

The Queen of the IceWings laying dead in the Ice Palace, blue blood trickling from multiple cuts on her throat.

Virgil turning a corner to see a wingless SandWing holding out a talon to him. He pulled something out of his cloak, and upon further inspection, he realized it was an earring shaped like a rose.

And, probably the worst of them, Patton laying dead on the ground, a pool of blood slowly growing around his head.

“-gil? Virgil, are you okay?”

Virgil was crouching down, talons clutching his head. Patton was gripping his shoulders and shaking him gently. “Was that- did you just have a vision?”

He struggled to push the images out of his mind. He focused on pulling himself up on his talons, digging his claws into the sand to keep from swaying. He stared at Patton, almost expecting to see him covered in blood. He shook his head and turned to Roman.

“Looks like you’re getting what you want,” he said in a low voice, moving to stand in front of Roman. “I’m coming with you.”

“Virgil, I think I got everything packed!” Patton called, poking his head through the doorway.

Virgil almost dropped the skyfire he was packing for the others. “I never said you were coming with us.”

Patton frowned, entering the room fully. “But… I want to come.”

He shook his head. “No, Patton. I don’t want you risking your life coming with me.”

Patton’s frown deepened. “So you want me to stay here? Alone?”

“Yes,” Virgil said firmly. “You’ll be safer here.”

Patton crossed his arms. “Virgil, what happened in your vision? Did you see something that made you want to keep me here?”

Your dead body was laid out in front of me and I could do nothing about it, and I don’t want to do that, not again, he thought. He continued putting pieces of skyfire in tiny leather bags instead of replying.

Patton brushed his wing with Virgil’s. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. But,” he added. “I still want to go with you. That way you could keep an eye on me, right? And… maybe I could find a way home.”

Virgil finally met the SilkWing’s eyes and saw that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He sighed in defeat. “Fine. You can come.”

“Yay!” Patton cheered, throwing his arms around him. “Thanks, Virgil!”

“Yeah, whatever.” he said, pulling away quickly. “I knew you would find a way to come anyway.”

Patton smiled mischievously. “I would have!”

As Patton left and Virgil finished packing, he hoped he didn’t just make a terrible decision.

“Roman, are you sure about this?” Frost asked, shielding herself from the sun with her wings. “Because I’m pretty sure Virgil hates you.”

“I’m not sure that we have a choice,” Roman muttered.

“Perhaps you should not have yelled at him last night,” Logan commented. He was barely focusing on the conversation, instead looking out to sea and frowning.

“Yeah, maybe,” Frost muttered bitterly.

Roman blinked at her in confusion before realizing what she meant. He widened his eyes. “Oh! Frost, I am so sorry for yelling at you last night. Please forgive me.” he bowed his head, looking up at her.

Frost looked at him in surprise for a moment before breaking into a smile and punching him in the shoulder.

“Ouch!” he yelped, rubbing the spot where she hit him. “What was that for?”

“There, now we’re even. But,” the smile fell. “I’m sorry for yelling too.” she glanced at him. “And you’re forgiven, I guess.”

Roman grinned and wrapped his arms and wings around Frost. “Thank you! I forgive you too!”

“Ugh, okay, that’s enough.” she wriggled out of the hug.

“Speaking of apologies.” Frost turned to Logan, who narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry for insulting you that night in the rainforest. It- it won’t happen again. I promise.”

Logan regarded her for a moment before nodding slowly. “Thank you, Frost. That… means a lot.” he looked at his talons. “And… I’m sorry for not trusting you.”

Frost waved a talon dismissively. “It’s fine. I would have done the same thing.”

“If all of you are done,” Virgil called from behind them as he walked out of the house. “We’re ready to leave.”

He produced two small leather bags and handed them to Logan and Frost. “Skyfire,” Virgil explained. “If we’re going to be travelling together, I don’t want to hear your yapping the entire time.” he turned to Roman and shoved a piece of skyfire into the bag that hung around his neck.

“So, where are we headed to now?” Frost asked, securing the bag around her wrist.

“The Ice Kingdom,” Virgil replied.

Frost tensed and let out a string of curses that made Patton wince. “I just escaped that hell and you want me to go back?” she demanded.

Virgil stepped back, holding up his talons. “Hey, I’m just the seer.”

Logan rested a claw on Frost’s shoulder for a brief moment. “We’ll need a guide if we want to survive, and I promise we’ll be quick. Please, Frost.”

After much grumbling, shouting, and reassuring, they finally managed to calm Frost down and start to fly west toward the Ice Kingdom.

“Hey, Roman?” Frost asked tentatively.

Roman turned to face her, frowning. She had been silent the entire time, and he wondered why she sounded so nervous. “Yes? What do you need?”

“Don’t you think Virgil’s kind of… strange?” she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Like, yesterday he really didn’t want to come with us, but today he suddenly changed his mind? What makes me more suspicious is that he won’t tell anyone what was in his visions. Not even Patton.”

“What, you asked him?”

Frost winced. “Yeah. He didn’t seem to appreciate the question very much.”

“Well, he’s our only option.” Roman sighed. “Believe me, I would rather beg Queen Voidwalker for help then this.”

Frost nodded hesitantly. “I’ll be keeping an eye on him, then.”

I am curious about him, Roman thought, staring at Virgil. How has he lived there for so long without Queen Coral knowing? Why is he suddenly so eager to help?

After a little while of flying, they entered the Mud Kingdom. “We should stop and rest for a bit,” Frost called, pointing to the swamps below. “We won’t get many places to stop before we reach the Sky Kingdom.”

The Sky Kingdom. Roman’s eyes were fixed on the distant mountains as they landed among the low trees. I’m going back to the Sky Kingdom, even if I’m just passing through. Why am I so nervous?

“Feeling homesick, Princey?” Virgil said, making him jump.

Roman squinted at the distant peaks and didn’t answer. Did he miss his home? He wanted to say yes, that he longed for the grand halls and the vast rooms of the Sky Palace, that his heart ached to be among his tribe, but… he didn’t. He didn’t want to know what that meant.

“Hey Roman, you got any food?” Frost called from the other side of the clearing, interrupting his train of thought.

Roman checked his bag and pulled out some fruit. “Just some clementines, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t you mean clawmentines, Roman?” Patton giggled at his own joke.

Roman chuckled at the pun as Frost groaned. He also didn’t miss how Virgil stifled a snort.

“If I am correct, which I am,” Logan interrupted, pulling the map out of Roman’s bag, “We should be at the Diamond Spray Delta.”

Roman leaned over the map. “So we follow the Diamond Spray River until we reach the mountains?”

“That’s right.” Logan nodded at him. “And from there, Roman can guide us through SkyWing territory.”

Roman tugged at his sash. “We’ll have to be careful.”

“Why?” Patton asked. “Aren’t you a Prince there? Isn’t this your kingdom?”

“It’s… complicated,” he replied. “All you need to know is that Queen Scarlet tasked me with finding the assassin, and to not come back until they were dead.” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I don’t think we want to find out what happens if we get caught.” At Patton’s expression, he quickly added. “But you all are under my protection! I will not let any harm come to you during this journey!”

Frost leaned over to whisper to Logan, “How long do you think that statement can hold up? A sunrise?”

Virgil snickered. “Good one, Frosty!”

The IceWing narrowed her eyes. “Don’t call me Frosty.”

Roman huffed indignantly. “I’ll have you know that I have been training to fight for practically my entire life!”

“So have I!” Frost exclaimed, turning to Roman. “You’re not special!”

Everyone started to laugh at that. Roman managed to keep the pout on his face for a few moments before breaking into a laugh as well.

After everyone had rested, they continued to follow the Diamond Spray river. By nightfall, they had reached the base of the mountains. A valley was laid out in front of them, surrounded by the peaks. In the distance, the Sky Palace glowed with the light of hundreds of torches. He wondered what Queen Scarlet was doing. He hoped she wasn’t angry. He hoped Ruby was okay.

“We should head west in the morning,” Roman said, pointing in a direction opposite the Sky Palace. “And then north, I think.”

“You think?” Virgil said skeptically. “So glad our guide has so much confidence.”

“Oh, would you like to try to guide us through SkyWing territory?” Roman snapped. “If so, be my guest.”

Virgil widened his eyes apologetically, but Roman was already turning away. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry, but he suspected it had something to do with being so close to the Sky Palace. And Queen Scarlet. He shuddered.

“So,” Virgil said casually, attempting to break the tension. “Why did Queen Scarlet choose you specifically to find the assassin?”

Roman took a deep breath as he thought about what to say. Finally, he decided on, “My guess? Queen Scarlet wants me out of the way. Maybe I offended her. Or bored her.” he could feel anger rising in his chest, and he quickly stamped it down.

“Really?” Virgil sounded shocked. “I knew Queen Scarlet was bad, but… she would really do that? To her own son?”

He felt the anger grow until it spilled over and he snapped. “My mother has killed eleven of my sisters, Virgil. What makes you think she has any love for her sons?”

Patton reached to him. “Roman-”

“I’m going to go find some kindling for the fire,” he announced, cutting Patton off. “I won’t be long.”

He could feel the others’ gaze on him as he flew into the dark forest. “You screwed up,” he heard Frost say. He didn’t hear Virgil’s reply.

Roman spent the next hour angrily ripping branches off of trees and dumping them in a pile to collect later. He attempted to rip a twig off of a tree but got slapped in the face. He growled and set the tree on fire, watching it burn for a moment before stomping back to the pile of branches.

I didn’t know she was that bad. Virgil’s words echoed in his mind. The fact that anyone could think Queen Scarlet had an ounce of mercy in her body made him want to set the entire forest on fire. He squeezed his eyes shut and dug his claws into the ground. He tried to calm himself down.

It wasn’t his fault. He thought to himself. He couldn’t have possibly known. I shouldn’t have snapped at him.

Maybe apologizing to Virgil for snapping would make him feel better. He nodded to himself. Yes, that was what he was going to do.

Roman scooped up the wood in his arms and set out to find the camp. By the time he found the others, everyone was asleep except for Virgil. He tossed the branches into the middle of the clearing and breathed fire onto the pile, watching them burn.

The two of them stood on opposite sides of the fire awkwardly.

Virgil sighed. “I’m really sorry for what happened earlier. I should have known that my question was treading on sensitive territory.” he rubbed the back of his neck. “So, um, sorry.”

Roman blinked at him, caught off guard. He didn’t expect Virgil to be the one apologizing. “Oh, um, thank you for the apology.” he looked down at his claws. “I’m sorry too. For yelling at you.”

Virgil nodded, acknowledging the apology. He fiddled with the strings of his hoodie nervously. “So, are we...cool?”

Roman smiled. He realized he enjoyed Virgil’s presence a lot more when they weren’t fighting. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

They fell into a silence again, though not as awkward this time. The fire crackled warmly, and Roman felt relaxed for the first time in days.

“What did you want to ask me?” Virgil asked suddenly.

“Sorry?”

“That day on the island, when you were about to leave,” he explained. “When you tore my hoodie.”

Roman winced. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

Virgil waved a talon. “It’s fine, I can fix it. What I want to know is what you wanted to ask me.”

Roman thought about it for a moment before suddenly remembering. He braced himself before speaking. “I wanted to ask if you’ve seen my brother in any of your visions.” his heart was hammering in his chest and his talons were clenched into fists,, as if he suddenly realized that he might not want to know the answer.

Virgil shook his head. “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen him.”

Roman’s claws dug into his palm. He was dimly aware of the way his breathing turned shallow and the way his eyes burned with unshed tears. No. No, he couldn’t be…

Then, without warning, Virgil was beside him, coaching him through a breathing exercise. “In for four… hold it for seven, then out for eight. That’s it, Princey.”

It took a few tries, but eventually, Roman calmed down. Virgil moved away, coughing awkwardly, but stayed within arm’s reach. He was silent for a moment. “You know,” he began, “My seer powers aren’t the strongest. Even if I didn’t see your brother, he could still be alive.”

Roman rubbed his eyes. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Virgil gave him a small smile, a far cry from the scowl he usually wore. Roman suddenly wanted nothing more than for Virgil to keep smiling at him.

“Thank you,” Roman said, taking a deep breath. “I… really needed that.”

“No problem, Princey,” Virgil replied. “Just don’t make a habit out of it.”

The prince chuckled. “I’ll try my best.”

They sat in comfortable silence until he felt his eyelids grow heavy. He yawned, and Virgil nodded to the spot where the others were sleeping. “You should get some rest. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

Roman was too tired to protest. He laid his head on his talons and closed his eyes.

“Or you could just fall asleep there. That works too.” Virgil’s soothing voice was the last thing he heard before he sank into the depths of sleep.

The next morning, Roman was awoken by roars of anger.

He stood up, immediately dropping into a battle stance. Three SkyWing soldiers stood in front of him, growling. He blinked in surprise. How have they found us already? We should have gone through a different route!

Beside him, Frost hissed, clouds of frost seeping out of her mouth. On his other side, Virgil rolled up his sleeves, ready to attack.

Behind them, Logan was trying to discreetly hide Patton in the trees. The soldiers haven’t noticed them yet, but it was only a matter of time. He spread his wings to hide them and snarled, hoping he looked intimidating.

“Prince Roman, how dare you show your face here?” the orange SkyWing in front said, lashing his tail.

“We’re just passing through,” he replied, still not entirely sure what was happening. How had they been found so quickly?

“Your orders were specifically to not come back until you’ve killed the assassin.” he growled back. “Well? Are they dead?”

“N-no, but-”

“Then soldiers, attack!” the SkyWing suddenly roared.

One of the soldiers leaped onto Virgil and they rolled away, clawing and biting at each other. Roman turned to help, but another SkyWing stood in his path, grinning maliciously. He growled and swiped a claw at her, but she dodged and suddenly barreled into him. He collapsed on his side, winded. He quickly rolled out of the way as she brought her spear down. It stuck into the ground where his head was a moment before.

Hissing, Roman got to his feet. He felt his chest warm up before a burst of fire shot out of his mouth. The SkyWing fell face first into it and she flew away, screaming. He watched as she shakily flew away, feeling absolutely awful.

He turned to Frost, intending to help her, but it turned out she didn’t need it. Her attacks were sure and quick, enough to rival Remus. She clawed the SkyWing’s cheek and whirled around, smashing them in the face with her spiked tail. The SkyWing fell to the ground, unconscious.

He whipped his head around as he heard Virgil cry out, but relaxed when he saw he wasn’t in any danger. Virgil had climbed onto his opponents back and had dug his claws into their scales. The SkyWing finally threw him onto the ground and took off without looking back.

“Is everyone alright?” Roman asked.

“Everything’s good over here,” Virgil called.

“Same here,” Frost added. She glanced down at the unconscious SkyWing. “He’s just knocked out, don’t worry.”

He nodded and turned to the forest, where Logan was helping Patton out of a tree. “Are you two okay?”

Logan nodded as they made their way to them. “We’re fine. We should leave before more SkyWings arrive.”

Roman glanced at the sky. He could hardly believe the SkyWings had found them this quickly. “Yeah,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Let’s go.”

A few minutes later, Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, and Frost made their way into the valley.

They flew close to the ground so they would be harder to spot from the sky. Roman longed to fly among the clouds, to spread his wings as far as they could go and ride the air currents to his heart’s content, but the risk of being caught was too great. He settled for gazing longingly at the distant red and orange silhouettes that drifted lazily across the sky.

They took frequent breaks, to Roman’s dismay. After their fifth stop before midday, Roman grew frustrated.

“Three moons!” he exclaimed as they rested under some trees. “You all are as slow as snails! I could have made it to the Ice Kingdom and back by now!”

“You know why we have to move slowly, Roman,” Logan said. “We have to fly low, or we’ll be caught. And well, none of us are as fast as you.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Sorry we can’t keep up with a SkyWing.”

Roman glanced at him curiously, then quickly looked away when he was caught staring. Virgil had barely talked to him since the night before. He wondered what that meant, or if it even meant anything at all.

“Roman does have a point, though,” Frost commented. “At the rate we’re going, the assassin will be long gone by the time we reach the Great Ice Cliff.”

“Well, what can we do?” Logan asked. “My wings aren’t designed to fly long distances.”

“And I’m not used to this much flying. I’ve lived on an island my entire life.” Virgil added.

“Maybe… maybe someone could carry you?” Patton proposed, sounding hesitant.

They all glanced at each other, then back to Patton.

“It could work,” Logan said slowly.

“I guess I could carry one of you,” Frost agreed reluctantly. “I call dibs on Logan.”

Everyone stared at her, wide-eyed. “What?” she said. “He looks like he doesn’t weigh much.”

“Then that leaves me with Virgil. Or Patton?” Roman said.

Patton chuckled. “No, I don’t think I need to be carried. I can take Virgil if you don’t want to, Roman.”

“No, I can do it,” he said with obvious reluctance. “I just want to get to the Ice Kingdom fast.”

“Virgil?” Logan prompted.

Virgil’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at Roman. “Whatever gets us there the fastest,” he said at last.

And that was how Roman found himself flying toward the Ice Kingdom with Virgil on his back, arms wrapped around his neck.

“I suddenly regret my decision now,” Virgil said in his ear. “Why are we going to fast?” the arms around his neck tightened as Roman put on a burst of speed.

Roman twisted his neck around to look at him and grinned. “You could go with Frost and I can take Logan if you want.”

“So I can be poked by spikes and be freezing to my bones the entire time?” Virgil started to shake his head, but suddenly widened his eyes. “Tree!”

Roman whipped his head around to see that he was indeed about to fly straight into a tree. He stopped right before he hit the trunk, flapping his wings furiously. He hovered in place for a moment, realizing that Virgil had his face in his shoulder and was shaking.

“Virgil? Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Fine!” Virgil yelled in his ear. “I’m fine!”

“What’s wrong? Why’d you stop?” Frost asked from behind them. Patton flew in after her, looking confused.

“Princey almost flew into a tree,” Virgil stated matter-of-factly. His voice shook slightly.

Roman hid his face in his talons. “Only because this emo distracted me!”

“Emo?” Virgil poked his neck hard.

“Ow!”

Patton sighed, adjusting his circular glasses. “If you two won’t get along, then Virgil and Logan can switch places.”

“No!” Virgil and Roman said at the same time. They glanced at each other and burst out laughing.

Logan narrowed his eyes at them. “I’m not sure if I should be offended.”

Frost sighed impatiently. “Alright chatting with all of you was nice can we go now?”

“You were so hesitant to go to the Ice Kingdom before,” Logan observed. “Why are you now so eager to get there?”

Frost clenched her fists. “I just want to get this over with.”

Roman nodded. “Then let’s go.”

They flew for the rest of the day before they stopped in a field at the edge of the Sky Kingdom. Roman felt Virgil rest his head against his neck as they descended.

Roman nudged him with his wing. “You can get off now.” he twisted his neck around and narrowed his eyes at Virgil. “How are you tired?”

Virgil yawned and slid to the ground, stumbling a little until he found his footing. “Well, I’m awake now.”

Roman’s eyes were on the sky, watching Frost, Logan and Patton dive toward them. “Looks like we made it first.”

Frost touched down on the ground, followed by Patton. She dumped Logan unceremoniously onto the ground and sat down, rubbing her shoulders. Logan grunted and sat up, adjusting his glasses.

Logan glanced up at the sky uneasily. “I don’t like it here. We’re too exposed out in a field like this.”

Roman narrowed his eyes at the night sky. Only one moon was full, the other two crescents thin as claws. It was impossible to see if anyone had followed them, even with the light of the moons.

Frost shook out her wings. “It’s not like we can do anything about it.” she glanced at Roman. “In the meantime, do you have any food? I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday and it feels like my stomach is going to eat itself.”

Roman dug around in his bag and shook his head. “We finished it all yesterday.”

Virgil sighed. “Well, that settles it. I’m going to go find some food. Roman, you wanna come with?”

“Huh? Why me?” Roman asked, confused. He became even more confused when Virgil started laughing.

“Well, how am I supposed to defend myself, Mr. I Won’t Let Any Harm Come To You?” he replied, smirking. Seeing Roman’s startled and embarrassed expression, he laughed. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

Roman blinked at him.

Patton glanced between them. “Wait, I’m sure Roman is exhausted-”

“No, I want to go,” Roman said, surprising himself. Sure he was tired, but they needed food, right? One glance at Virgil told him there was more to that, however.

Patton nodded hesitantly. “Just be careful, okay?”

Roman grinned. “We’ll be back before you know it!”

The two of them picked a direction and walked, not wanting to draw attention to themselves by flying.

“I still think those golden wings are obnoxious,” Virgil said as they walked, glancing at his wings.

Roman huffed. “You’re just jealous that your wings aren’t as glorious as mine.”

“At least mine aren’t obnoxious.”

They continued to bicker and joke as they searched for food for about an hour. The only thing Roman caught was a rabbit, and after a while they decided to head back to the others.

As they walked back, Roman grew more and more exhausted. His talons felt as heavy as rocks and his head hung low. He tried not to let it show. One glance at Virgil told him that he wasn’t doing much better.

The sound of shouting coming from the direction of their camp was enough to wake him up, however.

He ran toward the noise without waiting for Virgil. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw flashes of red and orange scales. SkyWings.

“What? What is it?” Virgil whispered.

“SkyWing soldiers,” he replied. He felt more terrified than he had in his life as the SkyWings surrounded the others.

“Who are you?” one of the SKyWings shouted. “What business do you have on SkyWing territory?”

Frost growled, but Logan silenced her. “We’re just passing through. We mean no harm.”

“Queen Ruby will be the judge of that.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Queen Ruby? What happened to Queen Scarlet?”

“Don’t play dumb, Queen Scarlet was killed by the assassin,” the red SkyWing said. “Now, I’m going to ask again. What are you doing on SkyWing territory?”

Roman gasped and brought a talon to his mouth. Queen Scarlet… dead? He didn’t feel any sorrow, just shock. How did the assassin manage to kill Queen Scarlet?

Frost growled. “We’re not going anywhere with you.”

The red SkyWing glanced at the other soldiers and nodded slightly. The four other SkyWings fanned out, surrounding Frost, Logan, and Patton in moments.

He heard Frost growl, and before he could blink, she leaped at the nearest SkyWing. Two more SkyWings piled on top of her, and when Logan and Patton moved to help, the other two soldiers jabbed their spears at them.

That snapped him out of his shock. He moved forward, but a tug on his arm forced him to stop.

“Roman, no!” Virgil hissed. “I want to help them as much as you do, but if they see you, you get caught, and this entire mission would be for nothing!”

“But they’re in trouble!” Roman hissed desperately. He glanced back at them. Frost was still pinned down by the three SkyWings, and Logan was struggling to hold the other two off. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

Virgil growled in frustration. “Roman, think. You stand no chance against five SkyWings, even with Frost’s help. The rest of us won’t be much help.”

Roman snarled. “I don’t care.” he shook Virgil off and continued forward.

He was suddenly tackled to the ground, face buried in the dirt. He shook his head free of the grit and glanced up at his attacker, who turned out to be Virgil. Virgil spread his wings to cover Roman’s body, eyes on the fight.

He grunted loudly in protest, but Virgil quickly shushed him. He sighed in frustration. From where he was (Quite rudely) shoved into the ground, he couldn’t see anything that was happening. Virgil perching on his back and pushing his head down whenever he tried to see didn’t help.

Virgil suddenly ducked low. Roman could hear his heartbeat quicken.

“What’s going on?” he whispered. “I can’t see anything!” he heard Frost let out a cry of pain and he tensed up. “What was that? Is Frost hurt?”

“T-they started to attack her,” Virgil stammered. “Three of them.”

Roman craned his neck to see, but Virgil pushed him down. He growled in frustration. “Let me help!”

Virgil looked down at him. “If they see you, they’ll take you away, and I don’t want that to happen.” he sounded sincere, which surprised him. Did Virgil genuinely care about what would happen to him?

Roman shook his head. “If I don’t go, Frost will die!” Virgil shushed him, putting a talon on his snout.

Virgil peeked at the fight again. He wasn’t sure what was going on, and it was frustrating. He was about to ask about what was happening again when a scream stopped him.

The scream went on for far longer than he could bear. What kind of pain could cause that?

He heard wingbeats and he looked up. The SkyWings were flying away. What happened? Who screamed?

After a while, Virgil let him up, coughing uncomfortably. “S-sorry about that.”

Roman’s legs still felt shaky. “I- it’s alright. What happened?”

Virgil looked scared, more scared than he had ever seen him. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he stepped forward, leaning towards Virgil.

Virgil took a deep breath. “Logan- he used his venom on a SkyWing soldier.”

Roman gasped and stepped back, finally understanding.

He had only seen RainWing use their venom once, in the arena. It was agonizingly slow, and the SandWing it had been shot at didn’t stop screaming until they were dead.

The fact that Logan would do that to another dragon was… horrifying.

“Roman! Virgil!” Patton shouted from his spot next to Frost. “Are you two okay?”

“We’re fine!” Roman called back. His gaze landed on Frost, and he gasped. “Frost!” he bounded over to her.

Frost was laying on her side, eyes closed. She lifted her head wearily as they approached.

Roman crouched next to her, tucking his talons underneath him. “Are you alright?”

“Why is everyone asking me that? I’m fine,” she replied as Virgil sat down next to him.

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “Even so, you should still get some rest.” he eyed the cuts all over her body. “And you should probably get those wounds cleaned.”

“And why do you care?” she snapped suddenly.

“Frost!” Roman gasped as Virgil stared at her, stunned.

“What? He said that he didn’t want to get caught up in this,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows. “And then he gets a headache and suddenly he wants to help us?” she glared at Virgil. “You’re hiding something, and I don’t know if I can trust you if you keep hiding it.”

Virgil looked to Roman for help, but he looked down at his talons. He instantly felt guilty as Virgil took a shaky breath.

“You’re the one who wanted me to come in the first place!” Virgil hissed. Roman flinched at the hostility in his voice. “You were willing to put your trust in me before you even met me. Just… take my word for it.”

Frost narrowed her eyes at him. “I better not end up dead for this, NightWing.”

“I’m not-” Virgil started, but stopped as Roman gave him a pleading look.

“Hey kiddo?” Patton said, standing up. “Let’s go see Logan and see if he’s okay. Roman can take care of Frost, right?” he said, looking at him.

Roman nodded, taking a cloth out of his bag. “These scratches aren’t too bad. They just need to be cleaned.”

As Patton dragged Virgil away, Frost sighed. “I know you trust him, but something feels… off. He’s hiding something, I know it.”

Roman reached to wipe some blood off of her back. “All that matters is that he helps us find the assassin and Remus,” he said.

Frost blinked at him. “Of course.” after a moment, she added. “You know I can do this myself, right?”

Roman shrugged. “Maybe, but at least I feel like I’m doing something. You got hurt while I was hiding. That… wasn’t very princely of me.”

“That’s alright,” she said. “I get it. You didn’t want to get captured.”

“Yeah, but… I hate feeling useless,” he said.

Frost snorted. “Well, if you got caught, then you’d truly be useless.” she yawned as he finished up. “Are you done?”

Roman nodded and smiled. “Yeah. And thank you, Frost.”

Frost hummed. “No problem.”

After everyone had cleaned up, they moved to another spot in case the SkyWings came back. Before long, everyone was settling down for the night, with Virgil keeping watch.

Frost was the first to fall asleep, then Logan, followed by Patton. It took awhile for Roman to fall asleep, his thoughts whirling around his head.

Queen Scarlet was dead. His sister Ruby was now queen.

It terrified him how the assassin had managed to kill the queen of the SkyWings. Eleven of her daughters had tried and failed, and one assassin had succeeded. How?

His thoughts swirled around his head until he finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep.

Roman woke up the next morning feeling absolutely terrible.

His shoulders ached from carrying Virgil for an entire day. His wings cried out in pain at the thought of more flying.

And his brain hurt from thinking about what Frost had said the night before.

Virgil seemed like a decent dragon, but Frost was right. He was hiding something.

His talon hovered his bag, where he kept the skyfire. For all he knew, the skyfire didn’t actually block mind reading.Virgil could be reading their minds right now.

Virgil wouldn’t do that. Roman decided, thinking about how Virgil had comforted him two nights ago. He might be hiding something, but I’m sure he has a good reason.

He shook his head, shifting his focus to something else. If everything went smoothly, they would catch the assassin, and Roman could focus on looking for his brother. He clenched his fists. Yes, he would catch the assassin, then everything would be okay.

“Good morning, Roman,” Frost said, shaking him from his thoughts. She winced, rubbing a scar on her neck.

Roman frowned. “Are you sure you’re up for this? We can wait a few hours if you need it.”

Frost rolled her eyes. “I’m completely fine, quit asking.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. He suspected that she was more tired than she let on, but he was doing the same thing, so he was in no position to judge.

“If you’re sure…” he stood up, helping Frost up as well.

The others had already woken up. “Good morning.” Logan greeted. Virgil nodded in acknowledgment.

Patton looked at Frost worriedly. “Are you sure you don’t want to rest a little longer? We don’t mind waiting.”

Frost sighed. “I am fine, can we move on?”

Roman nodded. “We should start heading north soon. After that, it’s all up to Frosty here.”

Frost ignored the nickname. “It’s going to get really cold,” she said. “Are you sure you still want to go?”

“Yes,” Virgil was the one to reply, to Roman’s surprise. “We need to catch this assassin as soon as possible.”

Frost glared at him, suspicious, and Roman quickly changed the topic to avoid a fight. “I’m sure we can handle a little cold,” he said, gesturing enthusiastically. “Especially with my fire!”

Logan looked doubtful. “You haven’t been to the Ice kingdom. You don’t know how cold it is up there.” noticing the pleading look on Roman’s face, he added, “But we did not have fire the last time I was there, so I am certain we will be fine.”

Frost tore at the grass below her. “Well, if you’re sure…”

Patton frowned. “Frost, you’re acting strange. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah,” Roman agreed. “We can figure it out ourselves if we have to.”

“No, no. I...I want to go,” Frost looked up. “It’s just… nevermind. Let’s just go.”

Patton glanced at him uneasily, and he shook his head. “You’re right,” Patton said to her. “We should start flying, in case more SkyWings arrive.”

He turned to Virgil. “Do you need me to carry you, or…?”

Virgil shook his head. “Frost is in no condition to carry anyone, and I think Logan and I can manage.”

He nodded. “Okay. Then let’s get going!”

They continued to fly west, toward the desert. From there, Frost would lead them north, where the Ice Kingdom waited for them.

Roman tried to keep an eye on Frost as they flew, but it proved to be difficult. Everytime she caught him looking at her worriedly, she glared until he looked away.

The fifth time he was caught this, Frost said, “Three moons, if you want to bother someone so badly, go annoy Logan or something.”

Roman tugged at his sash. “But-”

Frost sighed. “I promise I will tell you if I need a break, just stop giving me that look.”

He reluctantly turned to fly alongside Logan, but not before telling Patton to keep an eye on the IceWing.

“How is your shoulder?” Roman asked Logan.

Logan didn’t look at him. “It feels fine, Patton looked at it last night.” he paused for a moment. “Thank you for asking.”

They flew in silence for a few moments.

“I apologize for what happened last night.” Logan said at last. “I realize it must have been… upsetting to see.”

Roman kept his eyes down, watching the desert pass by below them. “I see why you had to do it, but even if they would have taken me back to the Sky Kingdom, they’re still my tribe, Logan.” Before he could change his mind, he added, “Do you regret it?”

“What?”

“Do you regret using your venom on that SkyWing?” he could feel Logan staring at him, be he kept his eyes on the ground.

“I don’t think I do,” Logan replied. “I would have preferred not to use my venom, but that is what ended up happening. They were attacking Frost and Patton. I had no other choice.” he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Roman sighed. “I suppose.”

They flew for a little while longer until Patton called for a rest. Roman hadn’t noticed how much his wings ached.

The ground was more rock than sand now, and it was significantly less hot than it was earlier. Even so, it was difficult to believe that the Ice Kingdom bordered the desert. Even harder to believe that the IceWings and SandWings had fought over this barren land years ago.

Virgil paced restlessly. “We should hurry. I don’t want to let the assassin get there first.”

Roman glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Is there a reason you’re so eager to catch the assassin? You were so reluctant before.”

Virgil sighed. “I promise I’ll explain just… not now.”

Roman blinked at him. That was not the answer he expected.

“Well,” Frost huffed, “If Stormcloud here wants to get to the Ice Kingdom quickly, then we should start flying now, right?”

Virgil tilted his head at her. “Stormcloud?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause you’re like, the personification of a dark and stormy night.” she replied, gesturing to his hoodie. “You even have a stormcloud on your hoodie.”

Logan sighed. “Frost is correct, we should leave soon. We should get there by nightfall if we fly swiftly.”

They took off, in the direction of the Ice Kingdom. As they neared the frozen desert, he was reminded of how much they still had to do. There wasn’t a guarantee Queen Glacier would welcome them. And even if they found the assassin, then what? They had no idea where Remus was, and he wasn’t sure Ruby would welcome him back to the Sky Kingdom.

He sighed shakily, and Patton glanced at him worriedly. “You okay, kiddo?” he asked.

Roman thought about that question. He thought about what Logan had said and about Remus. He thought about the assassin and about what Ruby must be thinking of him at that moment.

“Yeah,” he lied. “I’m okay.”

Roman was cold.

Cold wasn’t a strong enough word to describe it. He could feel it seeping through his skin and wrapping around his bones. He could feel it enter his throat as he breathed, ripping through his lungs. The very concept of warmth escaped him, as if it was a world away.

The only comfort he had was Virgil pressed to his side, his thin, wiry frame hardly giving off any warmth.

“Sh-shut up,” he had chattered after he had slid under Roman’s golden wing. “Y-you’re w-warm.”

Roman had tried to come up with a witty reply, but all that came out was a croak.

Behind them, Logan and Patton trudged through the snow, huddled together. In front of them, Frost led the way, looking over her shoulder worriedly when she thought no one was looking.

“Bad news!” Frost shouted over the wind. “Looks like a storm’s coming!”

A gust of wind threatened to knock him over and made Virgil stumble. He wrapped his wing around the seer and continued through the blizzard.

After what felt like forever of fighting the storm and almost freezing to death, Frost finally managed to find a cave for them to shelter in. She ushered them inside, looking at the sky uneasily. The sun was completely covered by the clouds and the snow was falling more heavily than before.

Roman collapsed at the back of the cave, shivering. The cave sheltered them from the wind, but he was still colder than he had ever been in his life.

Logan and Patton sat down on the opposite side of the cave, and Virgil plopped down next to Roman. He sat there, shivering, until Roman sighed and pulled him closer.

“Y-you’re freezing.” Roman said through chattering teeth.

“So a-are you,” Virgil replied, shaking snow off his hoodie.

Patton held up his wrists, and gray silk poured onto the floor. “Here,” he said. “You can burn this.”

Roman nodded and took a deep breath. It took a few tries, but he managed to set the silk on fire. Virgil stared at the flames with wide eyes.

“We never had fire back on the island because, well, SeaWings.” he said.

“Well, it’s v-very hot,” Roman offered helpfully.

Virgil glared at him. “Yeah, no shit.”

“You should try to get some rest.” Frost interrupted. Even she was starting to shiver.

“Hey, Frost,” he said, trying to distract her. “Tell us something about the Ice Kingdom. What was it like?”

Frost was silent for a long moment. “Well, to be honest, I hated it.” she finally said, taking a shaky breath and opening her mouth to continue.

Roman widened his eyes. “Oh! You don’t have to talk about it if-”

“No, I want to,” Frost said, clenching her fists. “My mom made it bearable, but one day she went hunting and… she never came back.” her voice was oddly hollow, devoid of emotion.

Roman gulped. “And your father?”

“He never paid any attention to me when mother was alive,” she replied. “But then she died, and he suddenly took an interest in me. Started pushing me harder and harder until I was at the top of the rankings, but even that wasn’t enough. I had to be the best at everything.” she looked out the mouth of the cave and into the storm. “Eventually, I got tired of it and left.”

Roman stared at her. “Permission to push your father off a mountain?” he pretended not to notice the whack Virgil gave him.

Frost chuckled. “I wish I could say yes to that.”

“So that’s why you were so reluctant to return here.” Logan said thoughtfully.

She glanced at him. “I guess.”

“Then you don’t have to come with us,” Roman decided. “Maybe-maybe you can get us to the Great Ice cliff, and we’ll find a way around it.”

“No, the wall is too big to fly around,” Logan argued. “We need Frost to get us the Gift of Diplomacy.”

He felt Virgil shiver against his side. “The gift of what?”

“The Gift of Diplomacy,” Frost answered. “They’re bracelets that let dragons of other tribes cross the Great Ice Cliff, since the cliff kills everything but IceWings.”

Patton’s eyes went wide. “And you didn’t think to tell us this sooner?”

Frost rubbed the back of her neck. “Sorry, I thought you knew.”

“All of that aside, we still need Frost to get those bracelets.” Logan said. “We won’t survive otherwise.”

Frost stood up. “No. I refuse to go back in there. I can’t- I can’t afford it.”

Logan still wouldn’t give up. “Frost-”

“I’ll go see if I can find something to eat,” she interrupted. She stepped toward the mouth of the cave. It was snowing so hard, Roman couldn’t see five feet outside.

“Frost, wait!” he shouted as she spread her wings. “You can’t go out in that!”

Frost didn’t look back as she said, “I’ve been in worse. I’ll be back soon.”

With that, she turned and flew into the storm.

Roman turned to Logan. “Look what you did! She’s going to freeze out there!”

“You don’t think I know that?” Logan shouted back. “I shouldn’t have done that. I-I made a mistake.”

He tried to stand on his shaking legs. “I’m going after her.”

Virgil grabbed his arm. “No you’re not. You’re just going to get lost and freeze to death. She’ll come back, and if she doesn’t, then we’ll look. After the storm.”

Roman reluctantly sat down, still staring at the cave’s opening. Even if IceWings could survive subzero temperatures, they weren’t supposed to be out during blizzards. Eventually, even an IceWing would freeze to death, like any other dragon.

I won’t let that happen. Roman thought fiercely. We’ll get in, warn the IceWings, catch the assassin, and leave.

Moons above, I hope this works.

Fortunately, Frost had come back as the storm was dying down.

“Frost! You’re okay!” Roman stood up and pulled her into a hug. She gasped at the sudden contact, the relaxed. She was shivering violently, and Roman pulled away to look at her. “Frost? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” she said, stepping away awkwardly. “We should get going.”

“Frost, I want to-” Logan started.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” she interrupted. “I’ll get you as far as the Ice cliff. After that, you’re on your own. I- I know I promised to help you find the assassin, but I also promised myself that I wouldn’t go back there.”

“That’s okay,” Patton said. “You’ve already done so much for us. It wouldn’t be fair to ask for more.”

Frost nodded. “R-right.”

They began to walk north, in the direction of the Ice palace. Frost led them through the tough terrain, pointing out the easiest paths and the more dangerous ones.

“You’re gonna have to fly around the Great Ice Cliff,” Frost said, walking alongside them. “It shouldn’t be too long of a flight, just a couple of hours. From there, fly north until you see the Ice palace. It’s big, tall towers, you can’t miss it.”

Roman sighed and looked up at the sky. Even the thought of more flying made his wings feel tired. The storm had died down significantly, but the wind was still fairly strong.

Virgil shivered against his side. “I just want to get out of here as soon as possible. It’s c-cold.”

Roman opened his mouth to reply, but a streak of green flashing at the edge of his vision interrupted his train of thought. He whipped his head around, but there was nothing there.

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “What? What is it?”

“It’s nothing, I just thought-”

“Uh, Roman?” Frost cut him off, pointing to something in front of them.

A black and green dragon was standing in front of them, lazily swinging his tail from side to side. Roman squinted at the dragon. Wait, it couldn’t be. Is that…?

“Remus?” he ran toward him, ignoring Logan’s shouts.

He stopped a few feet away from him, frowning. He was absolutely certain that dragon was Remus, but something felt… off. Remus had his head down, and his shoulders were tense.

“Remus?” he said hesitantly. “W- what are you doing here?” he shook his head. That didn’t matter right now. “We finally found you.”

Remus didn’t respond.

He stepped forward, grabbing his wrist. “Come on, Rem. Let’s go home-”

Remus wrenched his arm away from his grasp, looking up. Roman gasped.

His eyes were completely white.

He stumbled back. “Remus, what-”

Remus swiped a talon at him, and he barely dodged it. Someone tried to drag him back, but he dug his claws into the snow. “Wait! There’s something wrong. What’s wrong with my brother?”

Now that Roman was out of reach, Remus turned to the closest target. Frost was crouching in a defensive stance, and Remus growled at her, shaking a knife out of his sleeve. He stabbed at her face and she reared up to grab his arms at the last second. Remus pressed harder, growling. Frost’s eyes flickered between Remus and the knife.

“Roman?” Virgil’s grip tightened on his arm. “Is that-is that your brother?”

“It looks like him,” he hated the way his voice shook. “But that’s not- that can’t be him.”

He watched numbly as Patton held his wrist out and shot silk at the knife. It wrapped around the handle and he yanked it out of Remus’s talons. He snapped his head toward them, snarling.

Virgil let go of his arm, shifting to stand in front of Patton. “Looks like we’re going to have to fight him.”

“No, no, I can’t, that’s my brother,” Roman muttered, barely aware of what he was saying. He flinched as Logan tackled Remus off of Frost. Logan got thrown into the snow and Remus stood up, turning his glare on Roman. Patton moved away from Roman and Virgil, taking Remus’s attention. The light caught on something on his ear and- was that an earring?

Virgil looked down at Roman’s shaking talons, then back up at his eyes. “You don’t have to fight him, then. Just- just stay here.”

Roman watched as he shoved Patton out of the way of Remus’s fire. The knife was still stuck in the ground, forgotten.

He shifted his gaze to Remus. His eyes were pearly white, his expression blank. It was all so not Remus that for a moment he doubted it was even him. But there was no one in Pyrrhia who was quite the same shade of green. His sleeves were still stained red from when he wiped his knife with it. Even the way he moved, with quick, fluid motions that were almost too fast to follow was familiar.

Logan let out a cry as he was flung away from Remus. His eyes snapped back to Virgil as he clawed at Remus’s throat.

Roman squeezed his eyes shut. Logically, he knew they had to stop Remus, but that didn’t make it hurt any less when he heard his brother’s shouts of pain.

“Roman!” Virgil shouted. He opened his eyes to see Remus charging toward him, knife held high.

He wouldn’t hurt me. Roman thought dimly. He wouldn’t, I trust-

Remus threw the knife.

It hurtled through the air and sank into his forearm. He heard someone scream and wondered why it was so loud when he realized he was the one screaming. He lifted his arm shakily, watching the blood trickle down his scales. The sight of it made him dizzy.

He was dimly aware of Patton screaming, of Virgil grabbing his arm desperately, of the pain he should’ve been more aware of, but his gaze was locked on the knife.

Virgil stared at the knife embedded in his arm, shouting, “Logan! Come help me over here!” to Roman, he said, “Come on, Princey, we gotta get out of here.”

He slumped against Virgil, and he grunted under Roman’s weight. “I-I…” he tried to apologize for being unhelpful, but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate with him.

Frost roared and leaped at Remus. The two dragons clawed and bit at each other, rolling through the snow. Blood splattered the ground, staining it red and blue.

Logan came to support him on his other side. He held his arm up again and moved to take the knife out.

“No!” Logan exclaimed. “I do not know much about stab wounds, but I know you should not take the knife out.” he turned around. “Patton?”

Patton hurried toward them, glancing between the battling dragons and Roman worriedly. “Logan’s right, we should wait until we can get to safety before taking it out.”

Roman groaned, putting more of his weight on Virgil. “It- it hurts.”

Patton looked at him sadly. “I know, kiddo. I promise we’ll fix it soon.” he spoke as if he was talking to a startled animal. He probably should have been offended by that, but he was in too much pain to think about that.

He started to lead them away, but Roman looked back at Frost and Remus. “But what about Frost? And my brother?”

“I’m sure Frost will be fine.” Virgil didn’t sound sure, which wasn’t comforting in the slightest. “And Remus…”

“I can talk to him,” he pleaded. He hated how desperate he sounded. “I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding. Remus would never-”

“Roman.” Virgil said, forcing him to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry, but...”

Roman shook his head, knowing what he was about to say. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to confirm it, as if not thinking about it would will it out of existence.

“I think Remus is the assassin.”

“Hey, Ro. Finally awake?”

Roman slowly opened his eyes, blinking the sleepiness away. He tried to sit up, but gasped in pain when he put weight on his injured arm.

“Hey, careful.” He looked up to see Virgil staring down at him.

He looked back down at the injured arm, which was covered in bandages. The previous day was hazy, like he had dreamed it up.

“Frost?” he asked.

“I’m over here.” The IceWing sat in a corner, arm held out so Patton could wrap bandages around it. She also had a bandage around her waist and back leg. “Some IceWings living on the outskirts gave us some supplies. Probably saved our scales.”

He looked back up at Virgil. “And Remus?”

Virgil shook his head. “He got away. I’m sorry Roman, but he’s the only one who could be the assassin.”

“Could you read his mind? What was it like?” he asked.

“It-it was strange,” he replied. “The only way to describe it is... sharp. Like it was blocked off by a wall of thorns.”

“Well, I-I want to talk to him,” Roman said, blinking tears out of his eyes. “I want to know why he did it.”

Virgil shared a glance with Logan.

“I don’t think you can,” Logan said slowly. “Did you see his eyes?”

Roman perked up. “That’s it! He must be under a spell!”

“A spell?” Patton tilted his head. “How?”

“Long story short, there are these dragons called animus dragons who can do anything they want by enchanting something. They’re supposed to be super rare.” Roman explained.

“Woah,” Patton said, awestruck. “That sounds amazing.”

“Yeah,” Roman sighed. “I wonder how Remus found one.”

Beside him, Virgil shivered, and he realized there was no fire in the cave.

“T-there’s no fire,” Roman’s teeth chattered.

“Well, none of us have fire,” Frost replied, studying her newly applied bandages as Patton worked on putting new ones on her waist. “And you were unconscious.”

Roman sat up, careful not to put weight on his injured arm. “Then I’ll make one right now.”

Patton stepped forward, holding out his wrists. Silk poured from them, and soon there was a small pile of silk sitting on the cave floor. He breathed fire on the silk, setting it ablaze. He sat back down, feeling dizzy.

“Take it easy, Prince Charming,” Frost said. “You lost a lot of blood.”

“And it should be time for Roman to change his now,” Patton called, not looking up from his work. “Virgil, can you take care of that for me?”

Frost tossed a roll of bandages at Virgil, who fumbled it, almost dropping it on Roman. “Watch it!”

“Oops!” Frost smirked.

“Hey, be nice!” Patton called.

“Whatever, dad,” Frost muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

Virgil sighed and turned to Roman. He started to unwrap the bandages on his arm wordlessly.

“I can do this myself, you know,” Roman said, trying to catch Virgil’s eye. He’d patched Remus up enough times to know how to do it in his sleep.

“I know,” Virgil murmured, still not meeting his eyes. “I just need something to do. I’ve been sitting in this cave for hours.”

“Oh,” Roman said. “Sorry about that.”

“Sorry about what? Getting stabbed?” Virgil finally managed to get the bandage off and he had to resist the urge to gag at the sight of the stab wound.

Virgil noticed his expression. “Yeah, it was pretty bad. You shouldn’t put weight on it for a while.”

Virgil began to apply the bandages to his arm. Roman watched him work, struggling to stay awake. He must have been more tired than he thought.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Princey.” Virgil nudged his face gently. “You’re not sleeping until you’ve had something to eat.”

Roman shook his head to clear it. “I wasn’t falling asleep, Stormcloud.”

Virgil raised a brow. “Oh, we’re going with that nickname?” without waiting for a reply, he turned to Frost. “You got any food left from those IceWings?”

He heard Frost rummage around for something. The sound of the something slapping Virgil in the face followed soon after.

“Hey!”

“You were supposed to catch it!”

“Frost, maybe you should not throw the food?” Logan said tiredly from the other side of the fire.

Frost muttered something too quiet for him to hear.

Virgil grumbled and handed Roman half of the seal Frost had thrown, keeping the other half for himself.

Roman ate it in two bites, too hungry to roast it. He wrinkled his nose at the taste. “I don’t know how anyone could enjoy raw meat,” Roman commented, ignoring Frost’s offended squawk. “But… Remus would have loved it.” he stared down at the bandage on his arm, pretending not to notice the worried glance Logan sent to Virgil.

“If he is under a spell,” Frost said. “Then we’ll have to find the animus that enchanted him, right?”

“Not necessarily,” Logan said. “An animus dragon needs an object to enchant, correct? All we have to do is find the enchanted object.” Logan turned to Roman. “Was your brother carrying or wearing anything that could have been enchanted?”

Roman thought about it and suddenly remembered the earring he saw briefly. “Remus was wearing an earring earlier, but I couldn’t see what it looked like. That must be it, though.” Virgil suddenly gasped, then quickly hid it with a cough. Roman gave him a puzzled look. Virgil didn’t notice.

Frost was shaking her head. “But we have no guarantee that that’s the enchanted object. For all we know, the animus could be controlling him from across the continent.”

Patton laced his claws together. “There are a lot more dragons here than on Pantala, and it’s a lot less… organized. We don’t have time to search for one dragon.”

Virgil tensed, his grip tightening on his seal. Roman narrowed his eyes and frowned.

“Maybe… what if we had a way to find the animus?” Frost wondered aloud, giving Virgil a pointed look.

Virgil let out a shaky breath and stood up. “I have something to tell you all. It’s about my visions.”

Logan looked up from the fire, intrigued. Frost widened her eyes, then immediately narrowed them, suspicious. Patton somehow managed to look even more worried than he already was.

“In one of my visions, there was a SandWing, but not any ordinary SandWing- this one was wingless.” Virgil said quickly. “And-and in his talons, he was holding an earring. One that was shaped like a rose.”

Roman clenched his fists, leaving imprints in his palms. He remembered that earring, remembered giving that earring to Remus for his hatching day, remembered being so excited to give it to him. Remus never wore it, claiming that he didn’t want to break it. “That has to be the one with the enchantment on it. He never used to wear it before.”

“That does make sense,” Frost admitted begrudgingly. “But still…”

“Virgil, that can’t be the only vision you had. Earlier you said visions, plural.” Logan pointed out.

“You’re right,” Virgil said. “I had a vision of Queen Glacier dying, so that’s why we came here.”

Frost shuddered, rubbing the scratches on her waist. “I don’t like the sound of that. Princess Snowfall is a pain in the ass.”

“And the last vision,” Virgil said, ignoring Frost. “Was of- of Patton dying.”

Virgil was looking down at his talons while everyone stared at him. Roman lightly brushed his wing with his own in an attempt at comforting him. Virgil didn’t notice.

Patton stood up and ran towards Virgil, wrapping his wings around him. “This is why you wanted me to stay on the island, isn’t it?”

Roman turned away, letting the two dragons have as much privacy as possible in the small cave.

He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to watch someone he loved die, with seemingly no way to stop it.

Except I can. He thought miserably. Remus is taking out the royal families, and one day it’s going to get him killed.

I need to stop him before that happens.

Roman couldn’t sleep.

Even though he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and not open them until morning, his body refused to let him rest. After much tossing and turning and picking at the bandages on his arm, he finally gave up and limped onto the ledge outside the cave.

The cold was almost enough to make him go back inside, but the stars convinced him to stay. For a while, he sat in the cold and watched the stars in silence, thinking.

The sound of talonsteps made him turn around. He lit up as he saw that it was Virgil that had come to join him.

“Hey, Stormcloud,” he greeted.

“Hey. Couldn’t sleep?” Virgil asked as he sat down next to Roman.

“Yeah. My thoughts won’t leave me alone,” Roman said, pressing himself against Virgil for warmth.

Virgil laid a wing over Roman’s back and sighed. “I know the feeling well.” He laid his head on his talons, and Roman did the same. He looked at the bandages on his arm. “How’s your arm? Does it still hurt?”

“Not that much,” he lied. In fact, he thought it hurt more than it had a day ago. “A few more days and I’ll be good as new!” he forced himself to smile.

Virgil narrowed his eyes as if he saw right through the lie, but didn’t comment. “Something’s on your mind.” It was more of a statement than a question.

His talons instinctively moved to his bag, where he kept his skyfire. Virgil just chuckled. “I don’t need to read your mind to know that. So, what’s up?”

Roman looked up at the sky. “I- I really want to help him, Virgil.” he didn’t need to say Remus’s name in order for Virgil to figure out who he was talking about. “And I know we can’t do anything to help him right now, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling anxious and-”

“Then just talk about something else.” Virgil interrupted.

Roman blinked at him. “What?”

Virgil looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “It’s just something my mom and I used to do. Whenever one of us got stressed, we would talk about a completely different topic until we could confront the problem. Since we can’t fix this problem right now, why not take your mind off of it?”

Roman smiled. “Alright then.” he thought for a moment. “When I was a dragonet, I was cared for by a SkyWing named Crimson. She was awesome. She played games with us, and whenever I didn’t feel like doing battle practice, she would tell us stories. The stories were always something I had never heard of before, and she knew how to spin a tale. I miss her.”

“What happened to her?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, um…” he wasn’t sure how to say that one day she had disappeared and he never saw her again.

Virgil seemed to get the hint. “Oh! I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s alright, it was a long time ago anyway.” Even as he said it, he felt a pang in his chest. He was surprised at how sad he felt about it, even after so many years.

He bumped Virgil’s shoulder with his own, attempting to change the subject. “Your turn.”

Virgil furrowed his brows in confusion. “My turn to what?”

“I told you something about me. Now it’s your turn.”

“Oh, right.” Virgil was silent for a moment before he smirked. He held up his arms, rolling up his sleeves. “You see these purple scales?” He nodded at the scales that ran up his arm. “Watch them carefully.”

Roman nodded and kept his eyes on Virgil’s arm. The scales suddenly lit up, causing him to cry out in alarm.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked rapidly while Virgil laughed his head off. “I probably should have expected that. You’re half SeaWing, after all.”

Virgil laughed even harder at that, and Roman couldn’t help but join in. After a while, Virgil finally calmed down enough to say, “I didn’t think you’d actually fall for it!”

Roman whacked him with his wing and pouted. “Shut up.” he was trying to sound annoyed, but he couldn’t keep the fond look off his face.

Virgil giggled and whacked him back.

“So, uh.” Roman wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. “Can I see them again? Without burning my eyes, please.”

Virgil got his giggles under control and nodded. “Okay.” he held out his arms again and they began to glow, dimmer than before. The scales on his tail and under his eyes began to glow as well until he was emanating a soft, purple light.

“Wow,” Roman whispered, reaching out to touch Virgil’s arm lightly. “They’re like… violet fireflies.”

“Really?” he dimmed the scales until they were no longer glowing. “I never thought about them like that.”

“Well, they’re lovelier than any firefly I’ve ever seen,” Roman said.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Are you like this with every dragon you meet?”

Roman smirked. “Just the interesting ones.”

“And I’m interesting to you?”

“A little bit.”

Virgil smiled. “I can live with that.”

They sat under the stars for a while until Roman began to shiver.

“We should head back in,” Virgil said as he started to shiver too.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Roman stood up, holding his injured arm in the air and helped Virgil up. They headed inside the cave, but Virgil suddenly stumbled.

“Woah, are you-” he caught Virgil with one arm as he collapsed. He was staring into the horizon, muttering under his breath. “Virgil? Are you okay?”

He was about to go get help when Virgil’s eyes fluttered open. He groaned and rubbed his head.

“You okay, Stormcloud?” Roman asked, adjusting his grip on him.

Virgil’s eyes widened and he quickly pulled away. “I-I’m fine. It was just a vision. Sorry about that.”

Roman frowned. “Are they always that dramatic?”

“Usually.”

He nodded slowly. “Alright. What was your vision about this time?”

“It was of Remus.” Roman gasped. “And I think I know where our animus is.”

“We have to go to the desert again?” Frost cried, distraught.

“Uh, yeah? Where else would you find a SandWing, genius?” Virgil snapped.

Roman sighed. They had been arguing for what was probably only a few minutes, but felt like hours.

“Though I would prefer not to go to the desert again, it’s our only option if we want to help Roman.” Logan added.

Roman buried his head in his talons, suddenly feeling guilty. He had dragged them into this. He was responsible for everything that had happened. They didn’t need to help him, and yet…

“Roman, you okay?” Patton’s voice forced him out of his thoughts.

“I’m quite alright,” he replied. “But… this is my problem. None of you need to help me.” he turned to Frost. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. And Virgil.” he looked at the seer. “I’m so sorry for forcing you into this. You don’t have to help me either. None of you do.” he looked down at his talons, feeling miserable. They must hate him for dragging them into his problems.

Virgil stood up. “You idiot.”

His head snapped up. “What?”

Virgil walked over, took Roman’s talons between his, and squeezed them. “You’re an idiot if you think we’re going to leave you to do this by yourself. I chose to come, remember? And I also chose to stay.” Roman stared at their entwined talons, stunned.

Frost nodded. “He’s right. Besides, I promised I would help you find the assassin, and I’m not one to break my promises.”

“And there’s no way we’d let you do this yourself, right Logan?” Patton said excitedly.

“Correct. We’re helping you solve this problem, Roman, whether you like it or not,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses.

Roman smiled so wide his face hurt. He let go of Virgil’s talons and pulled his friends into a hug. He buried his face into someone’s shoulder, muttering, “Thank you,” over and over and over again. He didn’t even realize he had been crying until he pulled away with tears streaming down his face.

He wiped his tears away with his uninjured arm. “Thank you,” he whispered one last time.

“Right, with that out of the way,” Logan said, flustered. “Let’s go find this animus, shall we?”

After about a day of flying, they had finally reached the SandWing stronghold.

“Should we… go inside?” Roman asked as they took a break near an oasis. Patton was refilling their water bottles they got from Frost’s IceWing friends while Frost submerged herself in the water.

“Why should we?” Frost asked, lifting her head out of the water. “We don’t need Thorn’s help.”

“And wouldn’t it be more wise to keep this all a secret? At least until it’s fixed?” Logan added.

“I suppose you’re right,” Roman sighed. “It would have been nice to have a backup army, though.”

“So Virgil, where exactly is this animus?” Frost asked, sitting up. “Because I don’t think Thorn has any wingless SandWings in her palace.”

Virgil shook his head. “No, he’s not in the stronghold. In my vision, he was standing in front of a cave that went into the ground, and he was holding that earring again.”

“And where’s the cave?” Roman asked.

“Somewhere west of the palace.”

Frost sighed. “We’ve got a lot of flying ahead of us.”

Night had fallen on the desert, but they still hadn’t found the animus’s cave.

The five of them had found a hole that would presumably lead them into a tunnel system, judging by the rock Frost had thrown down it.

“I guess we can sleep in this hole in the ground,” Virgil said, staring down the hole.

Frost nodded. “It looks safe.”

Roman looked up at the sky, feeling restless. “Shouldn’t we try looking for a little while longer? The moons are bright and there isn’t a cloud in sight.”

Patton reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “I know you want to find Remus, but we’ve been flying all day, and we need rest.”

“And I would like to scout before we make any rash decisions,” Frost added.

Logan sighed when he still didn’t look entirely convinced. “We’ll scout out the animus’s cave first thing in the morning.” he said. “But for now, you need to rest that arm.”

Roman glanced down at his injured arm. It had healed enough that he didn’t need the bandages anymore, but it still hurt when he put his weight on it. “Fine, fine.”

Roman went down the hole first. He was surprised at how deep it was, and he had to suppress a hiss of pain as he landed on his injured arm.

“Roman, are you okay?” Patton called.

Roman grunted and stood up. “Yeah, I’m fine! It’s safe to come down!”

Patton came down next, fluttering his wings to break his fall. “There isn’t much space to spread your wings, so be careful!” he shouted up at the others.

Frost poked her head through the hole, blocking out the moonlight momentarily. She squeezed her shoulders through and almost fell, but righted herself at the last second, landing ungracefully on her feet. The bandages on her arm came loose, and Patton quickly moved to fix it.

Logan went down after her. He spread his wings to slow his descent, but one of them scraped against the cave walls and he plummeted to the ground.

“Logan!” Roman cried, running to his side. “Are you okay?”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Virgil called from above.

“I’m alright!” Logan shouted back. “It was just a fall, nothing to worry about,” he said to Roman.

“Well, it looked like it hurt,” Roman replied, helping Logan up. He turned his head up to the skylight. “Virgil, you can come down now!”

Virgil squinted down at them. “Um, how far is the drop, exactly?”

Roman frowned. Was that a hint of fear in his voice? “Uh, it’s not that far. You’ll probably be fine!” he said, glancing at Frost and Logan, who were both grimacing in pain.

“Right, very reassuring.” Virgil disappeared from view for a moment before he suddenly threw himself down the hole. He plummeted like a rock and landed on Logan, squashing him to the ground.

Roman gasped. “Virgil, are you okay?” he asked, offering him his uninjured arm.

Virgil grabbed his arm and pulled himself off of Logan. “Yeah- ow- I’m fine.” he looked down at Logan. “Sorry Logan,”

“It’s… alright,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses and brushing himself off. “Let’s get moving, shall we?”

Frost nodded, tightening the bandages on her arm. “Let’s find somewhere bigger. I feel cramped in here.”

Roman led the way through the tunnels, occasionally breathing fire to light their way. The tunnels were narrow, so they had to walk single file. Sometimes they became so small Roman was afraid he had gotten stuck. The stone was dry, and it scraped painfully against his scales.

Eventually, the tunnel opened up into a small cave just big enough for all five of them to sit in.

Frost drew her wings in close to her body, looking around the cramped space. “Isn’t it a bit… small?”

“It’s the best we can do for now,” Patton said. “Besides, I’m sure we’re all too tired to search for a bigger cave.”

Roman laid down, his head on his talons. Virgil laid down next to him, and Logan sat on his other side. “Do we need someone to keep watch? I don’t think it’s likely that anyone will find us,” Roman said, stifling a yawn.

“We’re so close to the animus, though,” Virgil pointed out. “We can’t be too careful.”

“Well, who wants to keep watch then?” Patton asked. “I can-”

Frost raised a talon. “I’ll-”

“Absolutely not,” Patton said sternly. “You, an IceWing, just flew through a desert, and you still haven’t healed completely from that fight with Remus. Anyone else?”

Frost lowered her arm sheepishly.

Logan sighed. “I suppose I’ll do it.”

Patton nodded. “Alright, everybody else, try to get some rest. Logan, wake Virgil or me when you start to feel tired.”

It took some time and quite a bit of shuffling around, but eventually they managed to find a comfortable position to lie in. It wasn’t perfect, with Frost’s spikes poking him in the back, Patton’s wings in his face, and Virgil’s head resting on his talons, but he was comfortable enough to drift into a fitful sleep.

Roman woke the next morning to darkness. He panicked for a moment before he remembered he was in the tunnels beneath the desert. He blinked awake and saw Logan sitting next to Patton’s sleeping form. He gently lifted Virgil’s head off his talons and set it on the floor and gingerly stood up, trying not to wake anyone.

He stepped over tails and talons to sit next to Logan, carefully pushing Patton’s leg out of the way.

“Good morning,” Logan greeted. He was scratching something on the floor, but quickly wiped it away as Roman leaned over to look.

Roman sat down, curling his tail around his talons. “How do you know it’s morning? There’s no light down here.”

Logan shrugged. “I guessed, mostly. You wake up around the same time everyday, correct? Therefore, it’s safe to assume that it is morning.”

Roman chuckled. “Good morning, then.”

Logan rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. Roman looked closer and saw that his eyes were red from lack of sleep.

“Did you stay up the whole night?” he asked. “I thought you were supposed to wake Virgil.”

“He was already asleep, and I was doing fine,” Logan huffed. “I was able to stay awake the entire night, so it hardly matters.”

Roman frowned, but didn’t reply.

The two dragons sat in silence for a long time, lost in thought, until the cave grew warmer.

“We should wake the others,” Logan said, standing up. “I’ll get Patton.” Roman nodded, moving to rouse Virgil and Frost.

He woke Frost by poking her in the shoulder, to which she responded by batting his talons away. He eventually managed to get her to sit up, though she wasn’t happy about it.

Rousing Virgil proved to be a much easier task. All it took was a few nudges and the seer was on his feet.

“Mornin’” Virgil greeted, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Good morning,” he replied.

“Alright, who’s going to scout with me?” Frost called, effectively silencing everyone in the cave.

“I’ll go,” Roman volunteered immediately.

“I’ll go too,” Virgil said. “I can show you where the animus is.”

Patton frowned. “Should Frost go? She still hasn’t recovered completely…”

Frost sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I just want to do something,” she said. “Being in these tunnels is… suffocating.”

“But the desert will be the most dangerous to you,” Roman pointed out. “That’s why IceWings are rarely seen anywhere other than the Ice Kingdom, right? Because you’ll overheat?”

“It won’t take that long,” she pressed. “I just don’t like sitting around doing nothing.”

Roman wanted to argue more, but seeing the look on her face, he knew she wouldn’t change her mind.

He nodded reluctantly. “Alright. Let’s get going.”

Roman, Virgil, and Frost set out before the sun was highest, leaving Logan and Patton behind in case something happened to them.

“Can you lead us to the animus’s cave?” Roman asked as soon as they emerged from the tunnels.

Virgil squinted at the sky, blinking rapidly at the sudden brightness. He had taken off his hoodie and left it with Patton, so Roman could see the glowing purple scales that ran up his arms and along his side. “I think so. Now that I think about it, the tunnels we were just in might be connected to the animus’s.

Roman’s eyes widened. “Should we have left Patton and Logan alone down there?”

“They’ll be fine,” Frost said, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Logan has his venom.”

“And Patton knows how to take care of himself,” Virgil added, though Roman could hear the uncertainty in his voice. “Now, let’s go find this animus.”

They searched for the rest of the morning, growing more and more weary at each cave they searched that wasn’t the animus’s. It wasn’t until noon that they found something.

“Roman, did you see that?” Virgil said urgently, grabbing his arm.

“See what?” he said right as he saw a streak of black and green fly overhead.

His eyes went wide. “That’s him! That’s Remus!” he spread his wings to follow him, but Virgil tugged him back.

“We should stay hidden,” he explained. “Maybe he’ll lead us to wherever the animus is.”

Roman folded his wings in begrudgingly, admitting that Virgil made sense.

They followed Remus from the ground, freezing when he looked down. There wasn’t anywhere to hide in the desert, and Roman found that he missed the towering peaks and dense forests of the Sky Kingdom.

“How… far away… is this dragon?” Frost panted, looking like she was about to faint. Roman steadied her with a wing, and she nodded at him gratefully.

“Looks like it’s not much farther,” Virgil said. “He’s landing.”

Sure enough, Remus was diving straight to the sand, spreading his wings right before he hit the ground. A few moments later, a wingless SandWing wearing a black cloak stepped outside. He nodded at Remus and scanned the sand dunes. The three of them ducked until his gaze wandered off of them. He gestured to the cave and he and Remus went inside the cave.

“We should go after him,” Roman decided as soon as the SandWing disappeared into the cave. “Right now. We could free him.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Virgil snapped. “There’s no way the three of us can take Remus on, especially when he has an animus as backup.”

Roman lashed his tail, sending clouds of sand stirring around him. “I know, I know, it’s just… frustrating. We’re so close.”

Virgil sighed. “But if we go now, we’re all going to die, and I am not dying in this miserable place.”

“Besides, don’t you want to go and rest?” Frost said, fanning herself with her wings. “It’s… really hot, don’t you think?”

Roman dug his claws into the sand, ignoring the jolt of pain it sent up his injured arm. He could see the cave clearly, opening into the sand dune and continuing downward. A ring of cacti stood in front of the mouth of the cave, looking almost deliberate.

Virgil stared at him with a concerned expression before he quickly looked away. Frost lifted into the air, hovering while she waited for them to join her. “Let’s hurry,” she said, sounding out of breath. “We don’t want to keep Logan and Patton waiting.”

“Did you find anything?” Patton asked as soon as they dropped into the tunnel.

“We saw the animus at his cave,” Frost answered. “Roman’s brother was there too.”

“That’s good, right?” Patton said, propping a torch against a rock.

While they had been gone, Patton and Logan had gone deeper into the tunnels and found a bigger cave for them to wait in. The new cave was big enough for Roman to spread his wings, so that was a plus.

“Yeah, all we need is a plan.” Virgil said, putting his hoodie back on. his claws and face were still soaking from his trip to the underground river Patton and Logan had found.

“But we don’t need a plan!” Roman said, frustrated. “We can just go and free Remus, can’t we?”

“But we do need a plan,” Logan cut in. “We need a way to lure your brother out without alerting the animus. I don’t think you want to deal with an animus anymore than I do.”

Roman had to admit that it didn’t sound very appealing. “Then what do you suppose we do?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Frost said. She scooted over to an empty spot on the floor and started to scratch something into it. Roman leaned over to see what it was. It turned out to be a map of the area around the animus��s cave.

“Alright,” Frost said, leaning forward. “This is what I had in mind…”

Roman yawned as he sat on the other side of the cave. They had been discussing the plan all day, and Frost and Logan were finalizing it. It was still so surreal to him that they would go through all these lengths just to help him with his own problems. They didn’t gain anything from it. They weren’t even royalty, and yet they stood by him. It was baffling.

He looked up as Virgil plopped down next to him. “How are you feeling?” he asked. He had taken his hoodie off earlier, and his scales glowed faintly in the dark.

“Well, as good as I can be in this miserable heat,” Roman said. “I don’t know how SandWings stand it.”

Virgil punched him lightly in the shoulder. “I meant like, mentally, Princey.”

Roman’s smile melted off his face. “I’m just impatient. Another day gone. Another day that Remus has to be under a spell.”

“At least we’ll be prepared,” Virgil said. He was silent for a moment before he nervously asked, “Roman, can I ask you something?”

Roman looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Um, sure.”

“What- what are you going to do if we can’t free your brother? If the animus gets away?” Virgil asked quickly.

“I’ll try again, of course!” he said, clenching his fists. “I’ll try however many times it takes.”

“No, I mean, what are you going to do if you can’t save him? Ever?”

Roman’s eyes widened as he realized what Virgil was asking. “I- I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. If he was being honest with himself, he was terrified at the prospect of failing. If he couldn’t save Remus, what else was he going to do? Go back to being a prince? How was he going to explain to his kingdom that their beloved champion was dead?

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that!” Virgil said, his eyes widening in horror when Roman didn’t elaborate.

Roman bumped his shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright. It’s important to think about, anyway.”

Virgil glanced at him. “I guess.”

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Frost suddenly cried out in triumph. Roman’s head snapped up and he winced as something in his neck cracked.

“Who’s screeching?” Virgil mumbled tiredly. He yawned and stretched his wings, accidentally whacking him in the face.

“I’m not screeching,” Frost grumbled. “Anyway, we finally have a plan!”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “We may have an idea on what to do,”

Roman stood up and stretched. “So let’s hear it.”

The next morning, Roman set out on his own to be used as bait.

Well, technically he wasn’t alone. Frost was flying over head, prepared to act as a distraction if needed. Patton, Logan, and Virgil were hidden somewhere among the dunes, acting as backup if anything went wrong.

It was strange, being away from other dragons, even if for a short time. Frost was barely visible among the clouds, and Logan, Patton, and Virgil were nowhere to be seen.

Roman stopped a short way from the ring of cacti that stood in front of the cave, running the plan through his head again.

It was fairly simple. Roman would stand in front of the cave, hopefully luring Remus out. They would then surround him, and Roman would take the earring and break the spell. If everything went smoothly, the animus wouldn’t take notice of a random SkyWing standing at his doorstep.

Roman took one last look at the sand dunes around them before stepping closer to the cave. He tried to keep his wings from shaking, but he was sure he hadn’t succeeded.

He stepped into the ring of cacti, eyeing them warily as if some sort of trap would spring from them. His head snapped toward the cave as he heard heavy breathing coming from it.

One moment he was glancing skyward, wondering if Frost had sensed something amiss, the next he was thrown into the ground, winded.

He coughed and attempted to stand, but his attacker was on him in an instant. He looked up to see blank white eyes staring back at him.

Remus dug his claws into his shoulders, and he gritted his teeth. He struggled, but Remus had an ironclad grip on him.

Claws closed around his throat and he struggled to breathe. Remus dug his claws into his neck, drawing blood. He could feel it trickle down his scales.

Suddenly, the weight was lifted. He coughed and choked, rubbing his neck before looking up to see Logan deftly avoiding Remus’s attacks.

Logan ducked as Remus swiped a talon at him, then whirled around with his jaw wide open, fangs aimed at Remus.

Roman’s eyes widened. “Logan, no!”

Logan looked at him, startled. While he was distracted, Remus tackled him to the ground.

Before Roman could move, Frost dove onto Remus from above. The two clawed and bit at each other, trying their hardest to tear each other apart. Roman looked on, feeling helpless.

“Roman!” he turned around to see Patton and Virgil running up to them. “You’re bleeding!” Patton said worriedly, stopping just in front of them.

He reached up to the cut on his neck. “It’s just a cut,” he said absently.

Virgil’s eyes suddenly went wide. “Behind you!”

Without looking behind him, he dove to the side. Remus landed in the place he had just been a moment before, but instead of attacking him, he leaped at Virgil.

“Virgil!” He dove in front of Virgil before Remus could get to him. “Snap out of it!” he shouted, but his cries fell on deaf ears. Behind Remus, he watched in dismay as Frost leaned heavily on Logan. He would have to act quickly if he wanted no one else to get hurt.

Roman reached for the earring, but Remus snapped his teeth at him. He growled and stepped back. Remus had been the SkyWing champion for years. There was no way Roman could beat him in a fight. As he stood indecisively, Remus snarled and pounced at him, pushing him onto the ground.

Roman grunted as he landed on his wings awkwardly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Virgil move forward to help. “No! Stay back!” he shouted. He wasn’t sure why Remus had gone after Virgil instead of him, but Roman was not going to let Virgil get hurt.

He aimed for the earring again. It took a few tries, but he finally managed to get a hold of it. With one forceful tug, he ripped it off his brother’s ear.

Remus roared and clutched his ear, stumbling off of him. He struggled to his feet, watching Remus carefully. He could see blood dripping from where he ripped the earring out. Remus had his back turned to him so he couldn’t see his eyes.

“R-Remus?” he said hesitantly. He didn’t get a response.

Then, almost too quiet to hear. “Roman?”

Roman gasped. He stepped closer, limbs trembling. “I’m- I’m here.”

Slowly, Remus turned, and he finally got a good look at him.

His sash was in tatters, his claws dirty, and he was bleeding from several wounds, but his eyes were normal and that was all that mattered.

Roman felt himself smile. “You’re okay!” he exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. He wrapped his wings around his brother, still not quite believing this was real.

Slowly, very slowly, Remus hugged back.

He was dimly aware that he was crying, but he didn’t care. He had his brother back, and that was all that mattered.

Remus pulled away, quickly wiping away his own tears. “Bet you want an explanation now, huh?”

Roman shook his head. “I do, but… not right now. I- I thought you had done something terrible, Rem.”

Remus’s smile fell. “I-”

“Interesting. I didn’t think you would free him so quickly.” a voice from behind them hissed.

Roman whirled around and his eyes widened in horror.

The animus was standing at the mouth of the cave.

Roman spread his wings and motioned his friends to stay back. “Don’t come any closer!” he growled at the SandWing.

The animus stared at him quizzically, then chuckled. “You misunderstand me completely. I only want to talk.”

Roman snarled. “Like hell you do. How can you possibly explain putting that spell on Remus?”

“Roman, stop,” Remus said, stepping up beside him. “Just… hear him out.”

He folded his wings in and stared at Remus in shock. Roman had never heard him sound so serious in his life. “But… why?” He was the one that put a spell on you, right?”

“It’s more complicated than that.” Remus wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Virgil stepped forward, baring his teeth. “I don’t care what he has to say. We may have avoided the future where Patton dies, but I don’t trust him. What are we waiting for?”

Roman nodded. “Right. Remus, I’m sorry, but-”

Faster than he could blink, the animus moved and was suddenly holding a knife to his throat.

“Alright, since none of you are willing to listen to me, we’ll just have to do this the hard way,” he said, digging the knife into Roman’s skin just hard enough for it to sting. “You let me take Remus and your Prince into my cave to talk, or I’ll slit his throat.”

To Roman, he whispered, “I’m not going to hurt you or your brother. Just get your friends to leave and I’ll explain everything.”

“What are you doing?” Remus cried. “You better not hurt-”

“Just trust me,” the animus hissed.

Remus hesitated before nodding. “Fine. But if you hurt him, I’ll flay you alive.”

“Understood.”

Meanwhile, Roman’s friends stood frozen to the spot. Frost crouched like she was going to pounce, though she looked like she was going to fall over any moment. Logan’s frill was bristling. Patton’s wings beat furiously. Virgil just stared in shock and horror, his eyes glued to the knife at Roman’s throat. He wanted to tell him that everything was okay, but he wasn’t sure it was.

He gulped. Could he trust this SandWing? He looked at his friends, then back to Remus. If Remus of all dragons could trust this animus, then he could too.

“I’ll be fine!” he called. “You don’t have to worry about me. Just go!”

“No way!” Patton said angrily. “We’re not leaving you with him!”

“He could be under a spell,” Frost snarled. “The animus could be controlling what he’s saying.”

Roman looked desperately between his friends. He racked his brain for something to convince them.

“Wait, hold on.” he started to dig around in his bag until he found it. He took the skyfire and tossed it at Virgil. He caught it, looking confused,

I’m not under a spell! He mentally shouted once he had Virgil’s attention.

Virgil flinched and brought a talon to his head. He stared at Roman, fear mostly replaced with puzzlement.

Just go! I’ll be fine! He thought to Virgil. Trust me. And, in case he wouldn’t get a chance to later, he added, I love you.

Virgil’s eyes widened. He nodded slowly. “We should go,” he said to the others. “I- I think he’ll be fine.”

Patton furrowed his brows. “Are you sure? What did he say?”

“N-nothing important,” he stammered. “Let’s just go.”

One by one, they lifted off into the sky. The animus waited until they were out of sight before he put the knife back into his cloak.

He motioned to his cave. “Let’s head in, shall we?” without waiting for an answer, he walked until he was swallowed up by the darkness of the cave. Remus picked the earring up off the ground before they followed.

The inside of the animus’s dwelling was surprisingly cozy. A small kitchen took up most of the cave. A stone table was squeezed into a corner with a couple of chairs shoved against the wall next to it. Two tunnels branched off on either side of the cave, most likely leading to more rooms.

“You must have many questions,” the animus said. He moved into the kitchen, pouring tea into a small cup. He set them onto the table. “And I promise to answer as many of them as I can, but you may want to ask your brother what happened first.” he took a sip of his tea, staring at them expectantly over the rim of the cup.

Remus sighed. “It all started when I heard rumors of an animus living out here. I sought him out and asked for a… favor.”

Roman shivered. “What kind of favor?” he asked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

Remus finally met his eyes. “I wanted to get rid of Queen Scarlet.”

Roman was silent for a moment, struggling to find the right words. “Wh- why? She made you her champion! You… were the favorite twin.” he hadn’t realized he was so bitter about it, even though he knew how awful she was.

Remus shook his head angrily. “Roman, you don’t get it, do you?” when he didn’t reply, he added. “I wanted to get rid of her for you. I saw how upset and scared she made you, so I looked for a way to get her off the throne.”

Roman stared at him. “F- for me? But… how did it go so wrong?”

“Roman, you wouldn’t happen to know what a wish dragon is, would you?” the SandWing said, making him jump. He had been so quiet Roman had forgotten he was there.

“N- no, I haven’t,” he replied. “What’s a wish dragon?”

“They’ve had many names in the past, like Dreammakers and Realityshifters, but they’re all the same thing,” the SandWing said, setting down his cup. “They’re like animus dragons, but… different.”

He took a deep breath. “A wish dragon’s magic works differently than an animus’s. They don’t need an object to enchant, or even a dragon.” he lifted a talon, staring at his palm. “Just a wish.”

Roman looked at his brother. “What- what did you wish for?”

“I told you, to get rid of Scarlet.” Remus replied.

“Then, how…”

“It’s not as simple as just making a wish,” the SandWing said. “There’s always a curse to the wish, something to balance the scales. Remus only wanted to get rid of one queen. He ended up trying to kill them all.”

Roman looked at the earring that Remus had set on the table. “If you don’t need an object to enchant, why did you enchant the earring?”

The wish dragon sighed. “I don’t know. Perhaps I hoped someone could break the spell. I don’t actually know the curses before I cast a spell, so I didn’t know that it would turn out this bad.” he nodded at him, and Roman wondered how exactly the SandWing lost his wings. “I’m just glad that someone stopped it.”

Roman looked at his brother and suddenly burst into tears, pulling him into another hug. “Y-you d-didn’t have to,” he choked out between sobs.

Remus tightened his arms around his shoulders. “I know, but I wanted to. Moons, I wanted to do it for ages. If there was a way to do it sooner, I would have.”

They stayed like that for a while until Roman stopped crying. He pulled away, wiping his eyes.

The wish dragon cleared his throat awkwardly. “You two should get going. I’m sure your friends are very worried about you.”

He led them outside. Night had fallen, and Roman was surprised at how long they spent down there. Virgil’s probably freaking out. I hope they’re okay.

As the wish dragon turned to leave, Roman said, “Wait! We never got your name!”

The wingless SandWing paused, contemplating the question. “Janus,” he said finally. “My name is Janus. Don’t go telling everyone that, alright?”

Without waiting for a reply, Janus disappeared back into the cave.

“Janus, huh?” Roman said, lost in thought. “You think we’ll see him again?”

“I really hope not,” Remus said unexpectedly. “He seems nice and whatever, but I don’t think I want to mess with wish magic again.”

“That’s strange, coming from you.”

Remus smirked and punched him in the shoulder. “First time for everything!” he suddenly lifted off into the sky and hovered in place. “Race you back!”

Roman tilted his head. “But you don’t know the way back!”

“I’ll improvise!”

Roman laughed and took off after him, relishing the feeling of being in his brother’s presence again.

“Not if I get there first!”

Virgil was waiting for them back at the tunnels. He jumped as they touched down on the sand and narrowed his eyes at Remus.

“You made it back,” he said to Roman. He sounded casual, but Roman could hear the relief in his voice.

Roman smirked. “Were you worried?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You w-”

“Holy moons, what are you?” Remus interrupted.

Virgil blinked. “Excuse me?”

Remus circled him, muttering to himself. “You’re like a NightWing but… not.”

“Oh. Um, I’m half SeaWing,” Virgil replied, eyeing Remus uncomfortably.

“Hey Remus, why don’t you go introduce yourself to the others?” Roman said, sensing Virgil’s nervousness.

Remus looked at him and Virgil and smirked. “Alright!” he said cheerfully. “Have fun!”

He hopped down the hole, leaving Roman and Virgil alone.

“So, um, what happened with the animus?” Virgil asked, avoiding his gaze.

“I think I want to tell the entire story where everyone can hear it.” Roman said. “What’s wrong? You look all gloomy.”

“I’m not-” Virgil took a deep breath. “Did you mean it? When you said- or thought? Back at the cave?”

Roman tilted his head, feeling his face heat up. “Of- of course I did.” he took Virgil’s talons in his, hoping he wasn’t overstepping.

“Oh well, that’s good,” Roman could feel him relax. “It would’ve been awkward if you didn’t.”

Roman chuckled. “Oh? And why’s that, Stormcloud?”

Virgil looked down at his feet. “Because I love you too or whatever,” he mumbled, almost too quiet for him to hear.

Roman wrapped his wings around the smaller the dragon and twined his tail around his. “Yeah. That is good,”

Virgil looked up at him. “But… you’re a prince. How-”

“I don’t want to think about that right now,” Roman said, resting his chin on Virgil’s head.

Virgil sighed. “Alright.”

They stayed like that in comfortable silence for a little while, until they heard a loud thump beneath them.

“We should probably go check on the others.” Virgil mumbled into his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Roman agreed, reluctantly pulling away. “Hopefully, Remus is getting along with everyone else.”

He turned and jumped through the hole, Virgil close behind him. They squeezed into the tunnel to see Remus and Frost wrestling in the middle of the cave while Patton tried in vain to stop them. Logan looked on tiredly.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Roman cried, running over to them.

“Oh, hey Roman, Virgil.” Frost nodded at them from her spot on Remus’s back. “I wanted a rematch. As you can see, I’m winning.” she let him up, giving him a smug look.

“I’m glad to see that you are safe,” Logan said, giving him a small smile. “Would you care to tell us what happened?”

Roman glanced at his brother, who shook his head slightly. He nodded back. “Perhaps I’ll tell you all in the morning? I’m exhausted, after all.”

“That’s alright.” he didn’t miss the way Logan’s voice sank in disappointment.

As they all prepared to settle down for the night, he pulled Remus aside. “Are you alright?”

Remus snorted. “I’m fine! Why do you ask?”

“It’s just… you’ve been through a lot these past few weeks,” Roman said. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Remus sighed. “I’m fine. I don’t remember most of it anyway,” after a short pause, he said. “Can I see the earring?”

Roman brought a talon to his bag. “The earring? Why?”

“I just need to see it,” he said. “The spell won’t work anyway, it was a one use thing.”

Roman reluctantly pulled the rose earring out of his bag and handed it to Remus. He studied it for a moment before putting it on his uninjured ear. Roman held his breath, waiting for his eyes to go white, but they were still the same dark green.

Remus grinned. “See, I told you I would be fine!”

Roman smiled in return. “Never doubted you for a second.” he tried to sound reassuring, but secretly he was worried. Remus sounded too casual, too unworried about something as serious as this. At least, he did until he noticed Remus’s tense shoulders and shaking wings.

“Hey Roman, are you coming?” Patton said from the other side of the cave.

Roman looked at where his friends were settling down for the night, then back at Remus. Though he was the biggest of them, he suddenly looked so small in the light of Patton’s torch.

“Actually Patton, I think I’m going to stay here with Remus,” Roman said, glancing at his brother. Remus looked at him with a grateful expression.

“Oh, alright.” Patton said. “Good night, both of you!”

The two brothers curled up back to back like they used to do when they were dragonets. Roman could feel Remus relax as he fell asleep.

Roman sighed. Maybe not everything was perfect. They definitely had some things to talk about in the morning.

But he had his brother back, and that was all that mattered.

“Ah, home sweet home, isn’t it?”

Roman glanced at Remus. “Well, it’s not sweet, but it's certainly a home.”

After freeing Remus, they had decided to come back to the Sky Palace while Virgil and the others went back to the island. Queen Ruby had welcomed them back with open wings, so here they were, walking the halls of the Sky Palace once again.

“So, what’re you planning on telling our dear sister?” Remus asked. “Not the truth, I hope.”

“No. Not the whole truth, anyway,” Roman said. Hopefully, she believes it.

They stopped right outside the throne room. Roman took a deep breath, and, before he could change his mind, walked in.

The throne room had changed in the time he was gone. Half the gold on the walls was gone, and so was the giant portrait of Queen Scarlet that used to hang behind the throne.

“Your Majesty,” Roman greeted as he bowed. Remus did the same.

“Prince Roman and Prince Remus, I am glad to see that you are safe,” Ruby said. She sounded nothing like Queen Scarlet. “Do you mind telling us who the assassin was?”

He took a deep breath. “The assassin was a SandWing animus, Your Majesty.”

Gasps and whispers erupted around the room. Ruby held up a talon for silence. “How did you manage to kill an animus dragon?” she narrowed her eyes. “You did kill the assassin, right?”

“Y- yes, Your Majesty,” Roman said quickly. He could feel the eyes of the entire court on him. He wondered if they could tell he was lying.

“Well, I for one would love to know that story.” Ruby said, leaning forward on her throne.

Roman swallowed. “Remus was the one who killed the assassin.”

It took all his willpower to keep looking ahead, even when Remus glanced at him quizzically.

Ruby’s eyes widened. “I’m impressed. In any case, both of you are welcome to stay-”

“I’m not staying.”

He could feel the stare of every dragon in the room on him, but he kept his eyes on his sister.

Ruby’s eyes narrowed, then softened just as quickly. “I- if you no longer want to stay here, then I understand. You’re welcome back in the Sky palace if you ever change your mind.” she nodded at them, and they were dismissed.

Roman and Remus bowed one more time before they turned and walked out of the throne room.

Remus was the first to speak. “I’m an animus slayer, huh? I like the sound of that.” Roman opened his mouth to reply, but snapped it shut as they walked out onto the balcony overlooking the arena.

Well, what used to be the arena. Queen Ruby had turned it into a hospital, but no matter what she turned it into, nothing could erase the smell of death that was all too familiar.

“I can see why you want to leave,” Remus murmured, joining him on the balcony.

Roman nodded. “Are you staying?”

Remus contemplated the question, drumming his claws on the railing. “No, I don’t think so,” he said at last.

Roman glanced at him, surprised. “But… you’re the champion!”

Remus nodded at the arena. “Not anymore. Can’t really have fights in the arena if it’s a hospital now,”

Roman hummed in agreement. “So you’re coming to the island with me?” he tried not to show the hopefulness in his voice.

“Of course, brother!” he patted him so hard on the back that he almost fell over. “Who else can keep up with me?”

Roman brushed him away, laughing. “You have a point. You’d be so bored without me!”

“Um, Your Highnesses?” A voice from behind them said.

He whirled around to see a SkyWing dipping her head to them. “There are guards in your room waiting to help you pack your belongings.”

Remus glanced at him. “So, what do you say? Let’s get out of here.”

Roman grinned. “I’d like that.”

“Hey, Logan, have you decided yet?”

Logan turned to see Frost walking up to him.

He turned back to the ocean. “I have not, actually. Perhaps I’ll make up my mind tomorrow.”

“That’s when you go back to the rainforest, right?” Frost asked, sitting down beside him.

“Indeed.” for the past few days, Logan has been staying on the island with the others. He was enjoying his time there, but he knew he would eventually have to return to his duties.

“W- well, I hope you choose to stay,” Frost said, staring down at her talons. The water lapped at her claws, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Logan glanced at her, surprised. “Really? I was under the impression that you didn’t like me.”

Frost chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, uh. Sorry about that. But for the record, I think you’re pretty cool.” she glanced at him. “Uh, no pun intended.”

Logan blinked at her, not sure what to make of that. “Uh, thank you. I think.”

Frost nodded. “No problem.”

They sat in silence for a while, watching the sun set. The sand squelched beneath his talons as wave after wave lapped at his claws. It was soothing.

“I do appreciate your… input,” Logan said, breaking the silence. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Frost patted him on the shoulder, causing him to stumble. “You’d better. And even if you do choose to stay in the rainforest, come visit us.”

Logan offered her a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind as well.”

He turned toward the sunset again. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but the decision making could wait for another day.

For now, he was content to sit with a friend and watch the sun set.

Frost was beginning to regret her decision.

The others had insisted that she didn’t need to go, but she needed closure. She needed to confront her father.

The past few days had been spent trying to find a way to talk to him without being spotted by other IceWings. It wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be. Her father hadn’t changed a bit.

The snow crunched under her talons as she landed. It was strange to be back here, but not unpleasant. She squinted at the sky as the figure of her father flew overhead.

Scratch that. It was definitely unpleasant.

She waited for him to see her, though she knew it wouldn’t take long. Her father’s vision was sharper than an eagle’s.

Within moments, she was standing in front of her father again. He was bigger than she remembered, with a neck longer than one of her arms. He had dark blue triangles like her own under his eyes and along his wings. The scowl on his face was all too familiar.

“So, you came back.” the disappointment in his voice wasn’t new either.

“I’m not coming back,” she said defiantly. She forced herself to stop trembling. “I just want to know why you did it.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Did what?”

“Pushed me so hard to be the best,” she said. “I was at the top of the rankings, youngest member of the royal guard, and yet it still wasn’t enough.”

Her father growled. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

Frost dug her claws into the ground. Somehow she knew he would say that.

“Now, give me one reason I shouldn’t turn you in to Queen Glacier right now,” Her father said.

She narrowed her eyes. She knew he was going to ask that question. “Because bringing me back will not only lower my rank, but yours too. Especially if I tell her what I’ve been doing while I was gone.”

Her father growled. “You’ve gotten it all figured out, don’t you?” he lashed his tail. “Your mother would be-”

“Mother is dead.” she hated the way her voice cracked as she said it. “Mother is dead,” she repeated, more steadily this time. “What she would think doesn’t matter because she’s gone.” Frost walked up to her father and jabbed a claw at him. “So don’t even think about playing that card.”

He snarled and slapped her talon away. “I’ll turn you in,” he threatened. “Queen Glacier won’t lower my rank if I’m the one who found you. I’ll get a patrol right now and-”

“And what?” she interrupted. “There’s no one here. By the time you get back, I’ll be long gone, and no one will believe you.”

“I could beat you in a fight without trying,” he said. “I could bring you back by force.”

Frost felt her breath quicken. This was what she had been afraid of. “But are you?”

Her father regarded her with soulless black eyes. “No,” he said at last. “Get out of my sight. I never want to see you again. You’re a disgrace to the IceWing tribe.”

Those words shouldn’t have hurt her, but they did. It was as if he had plunged a spear into her chest.

She didn’t let it show, though. Without replying, she took off into the sky. When she looked back, her father was gone.

She frowned and continued to fly.

She had to admit that that didn’t make her feel as good as she thought it would. She just felt more… hollow, which didn’t make any sense.

She shook her head and continued to fly.

Frost definitely regretted her decision.

Patton winced as he stepped on yet another piece of wood. He stopped to pick it out of his palm, then moved on through the debris.

The wreckage of his boat hadn’t changed one bit.

“Back again?”

Patton jumped and whirled around. Virgil was lounging on one of the bigger pieces of wood.

“Oh, Virgil! What’re you doing here?” Patton said.

“I figured you’d be here,” Virgil replied. “I couldn’t find you anywhere else. And I know it’s not my place to ask, but-”

“Of course you can ask kiddo!” Patton interrupted, walking up to the younger dragon. “I actually wouldn’t mind some company right now.”

Virgil blinked at him, then looked around the wreckage of his boat. “Still trying to figure out a way to get home?”

Patton sighed, feeling his heart sink. “It’s been much too long, Virgil. I was sent to get help, but who will? This continent’s got its own problems.”

“You know, we could help if you want us to,” Virgil said hesitantly.

Patton smiled sadly. “I can’t ask that of you. You don’t want to get tangled up in this web.”

Virgil still wouldn’t give up. “At least let us help you find a way home!”

Patton nodded reluctantly. “Alright.”

He decided not to point out that if they succeeded, Virgil would probably never see him again. He was sure Virgil was painfully aware.

“Do you really think we can do it?” Patton asked after a moment.

Virgil hesitated then nodded. “I think so. One day.”

Patton turned back toward the ocean. Toward his home.

One day. One day, I will set this right.

Virgil rolled the smooth rock around in his palm as he stood on the beach, staring at a distant island.

“Hey Stormcloud, what’re you up to?” Roman announced himself loudly, plopping down beside him. Even sitting down, Roman was taller than him, much to his annoyance.

“I was just about to go visit my mom,” Virgil replied, holding up the rock. He leaned into Roman’s side as he lifted his wing.

“Oh,” Roman said, staring at the rock. “Do... you want company? I’m not busy or any-”

Virgil shook his head, glad Roman couldn’t see the smile on his face. “I’ll be fine. I try to visit her every month, so I’m used to it.”

“Oh,” Roman said again, folding his wing into his side as Virgil pulled away. “How long will you be gone?”

“Not too long,” Virgil said, standing up and touching his nose to Roman’s. He spread his wings and flew into the air. “Tell Patton where I’ve gone, will you?”

Roman nodded.

Virgil turned and flew in the direction of the distant island, clutching the rock close to his chest.

He touched down on the ground and walked over to where his mother was buried. The spot was marked by a tiny gravestone that was etched with his mother’s name. The ground around it was littered with rocks and shells, gifts from past years.

He stepped closer to the grave, careful to not step on any of the shells. Despite what he has told Roman, he always felt a fresh wave of grief come over him everytime he came here.

His mother would have absolutely loved his friends. Logan and his politeness, Patton and his bubbling optimism, Frost and her snarky sarcasm, Remus and his disturbing stories, and Roman-

She would have loved everything about Roman.

Virgil sighed and set the rock down on the pile. “Hey mom,” he started, but stopped when he felt his throat close up. He was always upset whenever he visited her grave, but this time felt… different. Maybe it was the fact that he finally made other friends, and it felt like he was leaving her behind. He just wished he could tell her everything that had happened.

Well, maybe he could try anyway.

“Hey mom,” Virgil said, more steadily this time. “You wouldn’t believe the adventure I went on…”

Remus stood at the edge of the cliff, turning the rose earring around and around in his talon. The ocean tore at the rocks below relentlessly, the gray liquid looking more like ice than water. The wind buffeted his wings and threatened to throw him into the sea.

He stared at the earring in his palm. He had searched for Janus for months before he found him in the Scorpion Den. Janus had put the spell on him, and the rest was history.

Or was it? Remus thought about the lie Roman had told Ruby. They thought he was a hero. It left a bad taste in his mouth.

He wondered how they would react if they knew the truth.

He shook his head and clenched his fist, the earring digging into his palm. The earring had been a gift from Roman for his hatching day a few years ago. He wasn’t sure why he had kept it, other than the fact that he knew Roman would be upset if he got rid of it.

He opened his palm and studied it. The rose was blood red and intricately detailed. Thorns surrounded the flower, wrapping around the base and hanging off the side. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry Remus had laid his eyes on.

And he never wanted to see it again.

He threw it off the edge of the cliff, watching it hurtle toward the water. He turned and walked away before he could see it crash into the sea.

That was one thing taken care of.

Roman looked around the beach, smiling as he saw his friends having fun. Frost and Remus joked and laughed together while Patton and Logan built a sand castle.

“What’re you doing here all by yourself?” Virgil asked as he sat down next to him.

He lifted a wing and Virgil leaned into his side. “Just enjoying the view,” he said, smiling at Virgil.

Virgil rolled his eyes and swatted his arm. “Stop that.”

Roman chuckled. “So did you fix up your hoodie?”

“I had to spend all afternoon fixing it,” Virgil complained, resting his head against Roman’s shoulder. “Turns out you end up having to fix a lot of holes in your hoodie when you fly across the continent looking for an assassin.” he paused for a moment. “How is Remus doing anyway?”

Roman looked at his brother, who was in what looked like a heated debate with Frost. “He’s not completely back to normal, but I think he’s doing okay.”

Virgil sighed in content. “That’s good. I haven’t talked to him much, but he seems cool.”

Roman nodded. “Yeah. He is.”

“Hey Roman!” Frost shouted. “We need your opinion on something! It is very important!”

Patton giggled. “Better go see what they want!”

“Please,” Logan said tiredly. “They’ve been arguing for hours.”

Virgil laughed, prodding him with his wing. “You better get going, Your Highness.”

Roman huffed. “I’m going, I’m going.” he acted annoyed, but he could barely stifle a grin.

Maybe not everything was perfectly okay, (The rose earring was gone, for example. He wondered what had happened to it) but all his friends were alive and happy.

And that was all that mattered.

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