#if they leave us alone and return my deposit we’ll let it go

[moth-mortuary]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕝 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕤 𝔹𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕞

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Relationships: The Winter Soldier/Reader, The Winter Soldier & Reader Part: 5/? Language: English

✪ Masterlist ✪

⚠ TW: Light mention of vomiting. ⚠

The cafeteria lady doesn’t look at you. Your ears ring, the rush of your blood in your ears sings loudly. You can’t fixate on the money. He’s alone in the world. You are alone in this. A life depends on you. «I’m sorry, what?» The lady at the counter looks at you unimpressed, shoves your three sandwiches to the side and taps a finger over the display blinking $6.45.

It’s fine, you can do this. «Yeah, right, sorry.»

The file room is still an impressive mountain of boxes and papers; you don’t even think you can read all of them in a week, let alone study them. You’ll just have to skim through some of them, probably most; the box you had shoved some stray dossier into weighs more than you had expected, the brown bag dangles from your clutched hands, your water flask perched on the top.

The young man in uniform opens the door for you. «Thanks.» You murmur back, he smiles, but your attention is already to the man you were there to see.

«Hello. -You look around, no clock in sight, damn, that must be alienating.- It’s almost 2 pm, 1:40 or something like that. So… good evening, I guess. Have you had lunch yet?»

Silence obviously greets you, but the military boy still standing at the door responds for him. «He did, ma’am.» And with that, the door clicks shut behind you.

«I got you sandwiches.»

Apparently, you still need to take a bite out of them; you don’t really get why, but if that’s what it takes for him to eat, then you’ll gladly do it.

Like a band-aid, you know it will hurt, but you have to. One deep breath. «I had a heart-to-heart with Steve Rogers.» He stops chewing. Frozen. Like a band-aid, come on… and yet you don’t know how to break the news to him; he was so adamant Captain America would not have come back for him, but you had told him he would have, you had been so sure. You feel like you have let him down, but you can’t lie.

«I’m so sorry,» silence, acceptance. That is no band-aid at all. That hurts. You can feel it.

He returns to his meal. «A-and I’m sorry for what I said. I still believe you don’t deserve to rot in this place. I guess… —god, you are rambling again— I guess it’s just one less of us thinking it. No big deal, you lose some, you win some. We’ll make do.» No reaction.

The first sandwich is gone, wolfed down in one go, you step closer, fishing the second one out of the bag and mindlessly tearing a small corner and plopping it into your mouth.

He looks at you, deeply, and menacingly, but you don’t really feel the threat; you are beginning to feel like this is his natural state of existing: on high alert, always ready to strike; as if there wasn’t any true active intention behind his unnerving presence. Only a blanket of primal instinct following him around.

«You shouldn’t have taken the job.» You swallow the piece of bread you’ve been chewing for what feels like minutes and shift your eyes over his body, looking at him. A chuckle leaves your lips, you pour him a cup of water and take a small sip before depositing that too on the tray entrance. «Yeah, broken record, tell me something you haven’t told me yet.»

He drinks. Eagerly and quickly.

And you are supposed to betray him, to write page after page of dripping venom on this poor, broken man. Assassin, he was still an assassin, but the more you thought of him as one the less you felt afraid and the more you felt like bleeding. Aching. The devil’s work, you are supposed to do the devil’s work.

«Do you know what my job is in here?» A moment passes, you are still holding onto your untouched lunch. He had cleaned off his own without leaving a single crumb. «Here, have mine too.» The small bite you force yourself to swallow is all bread and scrape your dry throat falling down.

«Evaluate.»

You chuckle, dry, without any real mirth behind it. «I wish. I’m supposed to look at you and write about how evil blooms inside a man for no reason at all, I’m supposed to say you are rotten to your core.» Your head falls back, your eyes sting.

«I read your files, and all of them are missions, all of them are actions, not reasons, not your thoughts, I guess that’s the point. To just see the action, never the motivation.» Silence keeps its tight hold on your throat, it makes breathing harder. It’s painful.

«And yet I look at you and I only have questions.» If you are doing the devil’s work, then you must be the devil.

«I took the shot.»

He did; there are mountains of files proving that. But the question remains, the only one you should have really asked. «But did you want to?»

————— He knows this protocol. Carrot and stick. The bread is the carrot. Her softness is the carrot. Then where is the stick?

«I can’t. I can’t tell them you are a monster…» Irregular beats, uneven, wrong.

She is wrong.

Something falls down her cheek, he doesn’t understand.

«Why did you take the shot?»

That one he knows. «Orders must be obeyed.»

«Why?»

Insistent, pressing. She is difficult to swallow, to exist in her orbit. She pulls, and pushes, and asks.

He doesn’t want to respond. No, he cannot want, he… He doesn’t… He doesn’t— He has to.

His chest is squeezing, not functional; he is not functional. No, he always must be.

Shallow breaths. He— «Please. Please just give me something.»

An order, no. Please. A plea, a request.

«Training.» A safe answer. He is trained.

She looks at him, he knows that look. His victims, kneeling before him, his gun to their heads. Pleading.

Hurt, he hurts. Pain is irrelevant. He can not feel.

Shallow breaths, hers, soft, his, hollow.

A beat, unsure, fragile, wrong. She feels wrong.

«Do you think you should be in here?»

Silence. One minute, two minutes.

The scratching of her pen.

Time passes, he waits, the same routine over and over again. He watches her. Soft, jittery, never still. She’s chaotic, it’s hard to witness, hard to accept. Movements are meant for purposes, an action requiring a reason, a reaction. Reason.

Why did he take the shot? No.

Why must orders be obeyed? No. Stop.

Actions and reactions.

Cryo was better. No, he cannot have preferences.

Cryo was easier. Yes, cryo was easier.

But in cryo, there wasn’t any woman to observe, no bouncing legs, no popping knuckles.

Her neck, loud and deep, followed by her shoulders. He knows the sound, the creaking sound of joints, he had caused it, then he had pushed beyond, bending, snapping. A sigh.

Her sigh. Satisfaction. No. Tiredness. Then a deep breath. Exhale.

Soft. Safe even if unpredictable.

Safe.

«I’ll leave you to rest a bit…» hesitant, lingering, suspended on a string. Not gracious, only losing her balance. «Will you think about it? Please…»

The door closes in a soft click, the lights flicker for a second, he follows her uneven heartbeat down the corridor until even his ears lose the frantic clicking of worn shoes falling into place with the soft thuds of her heart’s voice.

————— Your room is depressing, your computer is dangerously hot, and the fans are loudly spinning in their case, making your own thoughts spin at the same dizzying speed.

You got yourself into the messiest mess you could have stuck your stupid head into.

The blinking cursor on your pc stares idly at you, the blank page makes your stomach twist.

You turn to your notebook, your messy notes scattered in all kinds of directions over crumpled paper. Your handwriting had always mirrored the way you felt; you were taught how to write neatly, in cursive with pretty pens now lost to time. With metal nibs and ink that had stained your fingers and had looked messy only on your hands, a pretty handwriting that during your school years had morphed into a mess slanted on every side possible, with black boxes furiously scratched over, covers for your mistakes rendering them impossible to know and yet impossible to miss. Unreadable.

There are dozens of tabs open on your pc, another mess you have no idea how to tackle.

You had stumbled upon tons of forums on the whole Avengers thing, but only some serious fanatics seemed to know about the “Winter Soldier Rabbit hole”, as they call it. It helps that loads of files had been released to the public in 2014, giving your case enough time to sit and brew tons of conspiracy theories and paths for you to follow, trying to piece things back together, given your extensive possibility of knowledge. Yup, because that’s what you have, potential knowledge, not yet yours, only there for you to grasp it. But you also have little to no time. The game had been rigged from the start, giving you a semblance of possibility while trimming your wings each hour spent not even making a dent in the monstrous mountain of files and reports.

In all honesty, you know you are being used as a scapegoat, you accepted, so that means they can say he had been followed by someone, he had had help, and that same help had deemed him unfit for civil life, for life altogether.

It’s a scam, you know that much. And yet you dive deeper into rabbit holes found in forums that make your antivirus notify you every five minutes, and your fans work overtime as if you had not paid your pc a hundred bucks and a smile.

You build something, a painstakingly long process that drags well into the night and the early hours of the morning, you build it slowly, eroding your delete button. You don’t know how to structure your thesis. Is it supposed to be a statement? An advocacy? An accusation? Something needing to be written in legal terms?

Since you don’t know any, you just stopped wrapping your head around things you cannot control, and you simply started doing what you know how to do.

Your text is based on your knowledge; you had studied Ethics in university, it had been your favourite course. And the little dissertation you are setting up shows it.

You doubt the jury would understand a single thing you’ll write if you let yourself run wild, so you try your best to keep it simple, not too in-depth, not too contorted. You still have time to weigh your options, to carefully decide where to load the heavy stuff and where to simply draft some edges of monoliths of topics.

Your focal points are essentially two: -The recurring memory wiping with annexed brainwashing -And the brutalisation of a man until nothing of previous morality and ethics had remained. The existence of said man, still there, still buried. Left alone to rot in his own mind.

You had argued, citing names you had then found more opportune to summarise in a note at the end of the page, that James Buchanan Barnes had been conditioned into doing what he had been ordered to do.

It’s a contrite argument, but it’s genuinely the only thing you can think of. He doesn’t speak to you, why would he? He doesn’t even know you. And for how much you can pull out of the magician's hat, you simply don’t know how to navigate such a complex situation with only theories constantly put to the test and infinite mental jerking-off sessions that only give you a different view and never a definitive answer.

You wish you had stayed in law school, or that you had followed your high school teacher’s suggestion and gone for psychology, but you had followed your heart and dived into Philosophy as if it would have brought you to something more than a life full of bigger questions and nothing at all to help the man counting on you.

You simply don’t know, and although the Socratic paradox might have comforted you when you had spent your night studying for exams seemingly impossible to pass, right now, it’s only putting you down.

Your phone rings its alarm. It’s 7:30 in the morning, you haven't slept a wink, and in an hour or two, it will show on your face, it’s already showing on your slumped shoulders.

. 2nd day of the 1st week: morning.

«Do you like coffee?»

Gently shuts behind your back, a fresh batch of dossiers and files is piled into your arms, culminating in two steaming mugs of porcelain, deep and full.

The man behind the glass wall remains silent. Not that you had expected something else.

The liquid gurgles, and you struggle for a while with your own nightmare of a structure. Once the files are finally down at your feet, you pluck both of your mugs and, taking a —scolding— sip from both of them, you offer one to him.

«Just found out that if you bring your own cup, the cafeteria lady only charges you 50 cents, isn’t it great?»

Another stretch of silence. That you expected, but James also seems not to make a single move for the coffee. «You don’t like coffee?» Silence. «It’s yours if you want it.»

A minute must have passed. You feel both stupid and restless. «I’ll leave it there in case you change your mind.»

He doesn’t respond; he’s a complete blank slate of pure nothingness. You try to pry answers from his sealed lips, but nothing comes out of them. He doesn’t eat or drink, you swallow down half a sandwich you later puke in the narrow bathroom of your room. Chest tight and eyes heavy. Something ugly grips your stomach, and you wish you had puked it out along with your scarce lunch.

>> ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 6

Ao3 Link Wattpad Link

Tag list: @merakifreedom Let me know if you want to be tagged! Also, sorry for the delay, but it's exam season T.T

[gliphyartfan]

Another small bit! Just a quick one!

@yandere-linked-universe @linked-heroes @imprisioned-in-the-hole @stars-for-thought @ice-cream-writes-stuff

Time finds bugs annoying. Especially when they get close to their betters.

'Really, I'm alright!'

'It just seems a shame that a young lady like yourself would be alone like this.'

'I'm waiting for my friend.'

'You've been here for some time, let me keep you company just to be safe.'

'No thank you, and please don't touch me.'

'You-ack!'

'What seems to be the problem?'

' Link!' Time raised an eyebrow at his name, immediately on alert.

He had been searching for her after the crowd swept her away, it was only luck that he managed to find a merchant who had spotted someone with her description heading the opposite direction from the others.

And what does he find when he reaches her?

An insect that dared act familiar with her.

Now, normally he would just take her away without a word,

But it was his name that caught his attention.

She never used their proper name when in another hero's era to avoid confusion. It was agreed that only when it was necessary was she to use their names outside of their eras or when it was simply the group around.

But here she was using it.

Which meant she was distressed enough to use it.

Which meant the insect whose wrist he caught was a threat.

Threats were not wanted near their angel.

'I've been looking for you (y/n),' he said gently, reaching out with his other hand and brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face.

'I got lost...' she mumbled, looking down in embarrassment.

'Well now I found you, that's all that matters.' And really, it was all that mattered.

He found her, so she was safe.

He smiled at her, and only after she looked back up and smiled at him did he finally look at his struggling captive.

'And why were you bothering her?' He asked, not even phased by way the insect pulled at his hold.

'I didn't know she was with someone!' He answered with a strained voice as the grip on his wrist tightened.

'That's a lie!' (y/n) exclaimed, glaring at the bug, more confident now that he was there. (As she should.)

'I told you three times I was waiting for a friend! You just wouldn't leave me alone!'

At least Time could tell the others that the slime of a man had three chances to escape punishment. Shame the fool of a man didn't listen.

'How was I supposed to know-Urk!!' The insect tried to pull his wrist free, but Time simply tightened his grip further.

'If she told you she was waiting for a friend,' he said coldly. 'Then it stands to reason that she was waiting for a friend, and I'm here, so she was telling the truth, understand?'

'Y-Yes sir!' Time stared at the insect for a moment, watching as he struggled against his grip, before letting go.

He and (y/n) watched as he fell to the floor, gripping his wrist, scrambling to his feet and running off into the alleys.

They watched him disappear before (y/n) sighed in relief.

'That was annoying.' She mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck.

'And this is why we stick together.' Time said sternly, relaxing the moment her eyes looked up.

'I know, I'm sorry.' He huffed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

'All is forgiven, it wasn't your fault.' He smiled at her gently.

The smile he received was as beautiful as always.

'Let's return to the others shall we?'

'Hm!'

He began to guide her out of the alley they were in.

...But not before he glanced in the direction the insect went.

He really didn't care much for bugs.

--

Later that night

--

A man ran through the alleyways, gripping his wrist.

'That bastard! Bet she was his whore!' The shady man growled to himself.

He slowed to a walk, rubbing his wrist.

'Bastard was strong.'

He flexed his hand and decided to find someone else.

He decided to head deeper into the outer area when he heard something.

It was a deep low guttural sound.

A growl.

And it was coming from behind him.

He turned around and a massive wolf was slowly stalking toward him, teeth bared and eyes glittering under the light of the lanterns.

How did such a beast make it's way this deep into town?

The shady man took a nervous step back, then two, before darting down the alley, the beast giving chase.

He didn't know how long the wolf chased him, but a couple of turns and a few items knocked to the floor, he seemed to have gotten away.

(He didn't notice how the Wolf stopped chasing him after the first corner, staring after him before turning around and running back into the shadows)

'What a fucking day.'

He walks, catching his breath, grumbling to himself when he felt his stomach gurgle in hunger.

Deciding to forget the wolf and focus on his next meal, he scanned the night crowd for an easy mark.

He found one in the form of a youngster being picked up by the collar of his shirt by a slightly older man, wallet being flung around as the youngster flailed his arms.

'Lemme go!'

'Give me back my wallet!'

'Stop picking me up!'

'Stop stealing my wallet and I'll stop picking you up brat!'

'Stop making it easy!'

'You-!' The two began to argue, the youngster waving his arms around, the wallet in his hand slipping from his grasp and flying into the air, when it landed, the reds, purples, and blues of rupees glittered on the cobblestone.

'Look what you've done!' The older man shouted, dropping the youngster and kneeling to pick up the rupees.

'You were shaking me!'

'Brat-!'

The shady man ignored the arguing duo as he stared at the rupees in greed, but what really caught his eye was a twinkle of gold in between the blues and purples.

With barely a thought, he ran forward, and snatched the glinting piece of gold with a handful of rupees before sprinting away.

'HEY!!'

The shady man smirked as he ran back into the alleyway, the feeling of success running through his veins.

Finally, his night was turning around!

...

(He never noticed the way the two individuals picking up the remaining rupees were calmly staring at his retreating form.)

The shady man kept running until he made it back to his hole in the wall, making sure he wasn't seen.

Once inside, he opened his hand and grinned as he saw at least 300 rupees in his hand, but it was the gold glinting among the rupees that he was excited for.

It was a ring.

A ring that was covered in jewels. Even a lowly thief such as himself could tell that such a piece of jewelry was worth more than a small town could afford.

This is the score he was waiting for, this is what would set him up for life.

His mind swirling with thoughts, already imagining the things he would buy with the money he made off this one ring.

He took the ring and held it close to his face, gazing at the gems embedded into the gold.

Gazing deeply at each glinting gem.

The craftsmanship was exquisite.

It was hypnotic in way.

It was almost mesmerizing how the colors glinted even in the dark.

It was almost thoughtless how he let the rupees slip from his hand and fall to the ground.

It was rather foolish really,

How he slowly.

Began.

To put.

The ring on.

...

...

'We're back!'

'Guys where were you? You almost missed dinner!' (y/n) teased as the three missing heroes made their way into their rented room.

Warriors smirked at her. 'Apologies love, we got held up because SOMEONE tried to snatch my wallet and buy more than we needed.' Wind stuck his tongue out at Warriors.

'Stop making it so easy to steal it!' Wars playfully swatted at him, Wind dodging with a laugh and moving to take his seat next to (y/n) on the bed.

'Rather fortunate that the cooks were willing to let Wild use the kitchen.' Sky commented happily, grabbing his plate of food from Wild and sitting on his corner of the bed.

'The only good thing about this place really.' Legend grunted, sitting next to Time, his own plate on his lap.

'It's not all that bad if they were willing to let him cook.' (y/n) smiled, nudging Wind with her shoulder.

'Now what's this about a stolen wallet?'

'I assume there were no problems?' Time quietly inquired as Wind began to distract (y/n) with a exaggerated re-telling of their outing, with Warriors correcting him every other sentence.

Twilight smiled sharply. ' Rather dull actually. That reminds me.' He reached into his pouch.

'Vet can have this back.' Legend raised an eyebrow and held his hand out.

Twilight deposited the bloodied ring in his palm.

'At least you had the mind to grab it before some worthless fool did.' He sniffed, dropping the ring into his own pouch without a care.

'Wouldn't want to lose such a useful item anytime soon.' Twilight smirked, Legend snorted.

'If it goes the way it should, they should find his remains tomorrow afternoon.' Time mused, taking a sip from his cup.

'We'll be gone in the morning so it's pointless to care.' Legend huffed, turned away and focusing on the conversation and his food.

'I suppose so.' Time chuckled, he looked back at Twilight and nodded. 'Go eat, excellent work boys.'

Twilight gave a cheeky salute and took his place next to (y/n), Wild handing him his plate.

Time watched them interact, watched their angel laugh at the sailor's dramatic tale, the events of that afternoon nothing but a fading memory in her mind.

Good. Insects weren't worth her time.

Time took a bite from his plate and smirked.

Delicious as always.

[red-jaebyrd]

She Made Everything Better

Summary: Dick has his first cold since moving into the Manor with Bruce. All he wants is the one person he can’t have – his mom. Bruce does his best to fill the void as well as helping an ill and still grieving boy find safety and security in his new guardian.

For @ckbookish

There are many things that Bruce wasn’t prepared for when he took in 8 year old Dick Grayson. Little things like enforcing bedtimes and daily baths; to big things like no swimming in the pool alone and making sure Dick stayed off the front foyer chandelier…or any chandelier in the Manor. The other was taking care of a sick child.

Dick had only been living in the Manor for six months and had yet to come down with any kind of illness. Considering all the stories Bruce had been told by well-meaning co-workers of their kids coming home frequently with colds; he considered himself fortunate that Dick had remained cold-free.

Until one morning when he could hear faint coughing coming from the bedroom down the hall.

“Bruce,” Dick cried, dragging out his name followed by a series of more wet coughs.

Oh no, Bruce thought to himself. Those coughs didn’t sound good at all. He followed the cry and coughs to Dick’s room and saw the boy laying down on his bed bundled in blankets and surrounded by discarded tissues. His cheeks were flushed, his nose was red, and eyes were glassy.

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” Bruce asked, sitting on the edge of Dick’s bed.

“My head hurts, my nose won’t stop running, and I’m coughing,” Dick answered, pulling his blankets up to his chin.

Bruce quickly went through a mental checklist of what the boy might need while dealing with a cold. By the looks of the boy’s flushed cheeks, he likely had a fever. What was that saying, ‘feed a cold, starve a fever’; that didn’t sound right to Bruce.

Dick coughed and then groaned, snapping Bruce out of his thoughts.

“Why don’t you drink some water. It’s important to stay hydrated,” Bruce suggested, walking over to Dick’s nightstand and handing him his water bottle.

“No,” Dick whined with a pout pushing the water bottle away. “Water tastes gross, and it hurts when I swallow.”

“Understood,” Bruce said, a bit bewildered by Dick’s whining. Set the water bottle back onto the nightstand. He sat on the bed in front of Dick reaching to feel Dick’s forehead with the front of his wrist. Dick shivered at the contact. “You feel warmer than usual. I’ll be right back with a thermometer.”

“No,” Dick moaned, reaching his hand out for Bruce from under his blankets. “Don’t leave me.”

“I know you’re feeling bad, Chum, but I need to get a thermometer to see if you have a fever,” Bruce soothed, sweeping Dick’s sweaty bangs from his forehead. He smiled, taking Dick’s hand in his and squeezed it gently. “I’m not leaving I’m just going to your bathroom to get the thermometer.

Bruce walked toward the en-suite bathroom in search of the thermometer but came up empty. He searched all the cabinets, and they didn’t even have any children’s medicine, just polysporin, hospital grade antiseptic and, tons of band-aids. Bruce could have sworn they had children’s Motrin, but sadly there was none.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back,” Bruce said, closing the bathroom door and making his way toward the bedroom door.

“No, don’t leave,” Dick pleaded, reaching out frantically to Bruce this time with both hands. His eyes welled up with unshed tears. Bruce shoulders slumped and he sat down one the bed again, taking Dick’s cold hand in his and rubbing soft circles with his thumb.

Bruce furrowed his brow in concern at Dick’s behavior. It was extremely unusual for Dick to be this clingy and demanding when it came to Bruce. The two did spend more time together now that Bruce had changed his schedule a few months ago. Dick did like to seek attention from his guardian in the most heart stopping ways imaginable. Bruce quickly recalled the first and last time Dick backflipped off the second landing stairs nearly giving Bruce and Alfred a heart attack.

As Bruce had gotten to know Dick, he had learned that the boy liked being with people; liked spending time with Bruce and once Dick had got his fill of ‘peopling’, he’d be off outside or in his room playing alone. The boy liked attention, but he was far from clingy.

“Dick, I’m not leaving. I’m just heading to the intercom near the door to speak to Alfred,” Bruce explained, using his free hand to gently card his fingers through Dick’s hair and resting his hand on the boy’s cheek. “I’m not leaving.”

“Okay,” Dick sniffed, letting go of Bruce’s hand to rub his face with his blanket.

Bruce wrinkled his nose and handed Dick a fresh tissue from the discarded box on his bed. He then headed to the intercom near Dick’s bedroom door and pressed the button hoping Alfred was still in the kitchen.

“Alfred, I need a thermometer. Can you bring one to Dick’s bedroom, please.”

“Right away, Sir,” Alfred answered promptly.

Bruce turned and gave Dick a small smile, but the gesture wasn’t returned. He expected as much considering how poorly the boy felt. It warmed Bruce’s heart to know that Dick found security and safety in his presence. A little hand reached out to him from under the blankets. It made Bruce chuckle, so he made his way back to the bed and sat down taking Dick’s hand. Dick slouched low against his pillows blinking tiredly at Bruce.

“I wasn’t going to leave you. I told you I wasn’t,” Bruce reassured, trying to tuck Dick’s duvet around him with one hand and failing. Dick let go so Bruce could finish with both hands. “Do you want anything to eat?”

Just as Dick was going to answer Alfred arrived with a thermometer and a fresh box of tissues. He handed the thermometer to Bruce and set the tissue box on Dick’s nightstand. He then proceeded to collect the dirty tissues and deposit them in the trash bin.

“Will that be all, Sirs?” Alfred asked, moving the bin closer to the bed so it stayed within Dick’s reach near the nightstand.

Bruce stayed sitting on the bed and gave Alfred a rundown of all the supplies that they would need while Dick blew his nose. As usual Alfred had a pen and notepad on hand and wrote down everything.

“Anything else? Master Dick, would you like something to eat before I go?” Alfred asked, tucking the notepad and pen into his front jacket pocket.

Dick didn’t answer Alfred right away. The boy looked lost in his own thoughts, but mostly he looked tired. Poor guy, Bruce thought to himself, he must be feeling so out of it.

“Dick,” Bruce whispered, gently squeezing Dick’s hand to get his attention. Once the boy’s glassy eyes met his, Bruce took that as a sign to continue, “Are you hungry?

“Oh um –“ Dick stammered, and started playing with the hem of the duvet. “Would – would it be okay to have toast with cinnamon on top, please?”

“Certainly, young sir. I’ll get to it straight away.” Alfred replied and left the room closing the door behind him.

Bruce proceeded to take Dick’s temperature and just as he suspected after the thermometer beeped; he frowned looking at the number on the screen. Dick had a fever. Bruce was trying to remember if he should call a doctor right away or if he was supposed to wait two or three days if nothing improved. He’d likely call Leslie today just to be sure.

“Is it bad?” Dick asked, bringing the blanket up to his eyes.

“Well, it’s not good, 102.2, buddy. We’ll keep an eye on it. Make sure it goes down with meds. If not, I’ll have to call Dr Thompkins,” Bruce clarified, turning the thermometer off and setting it on the nightstand. “So cinnamon toast?”

“Mom would always give it to me whenever I got sick,” Dick swallowed thickly, looking down at his blankets. “She – she said the cinnamon had healing properties that would help make me feel better.”

“I’m sure it did,” Bruce said, brushing Dick’s bangs away from his face. “Moms are good like that aren’t they?”

Bruce tried to give Dick a smile, but it felt stiff on his face as he fought against the lump forming in his throat at the memory of his mom making him chicken noodle soup whenever he got a cold. He remembered loving the noodles and the broth but like all kids his age, Bruce hated the chicken and veggies. Over the years the soup was something that Alfred had tried to replicate, but to no avail. It just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t his mom’s soup.

“My mom would –,” Bruce sniffed and then cleared his throat, but before he could finish his sentence; Dick’s face crumpled, and he started sobbing.

In the short time that Dick had been staying at the Manor, he had only cried a handful of times. Even after a nightmare, tears spilled down silently. Dick was always quick to wipe the tears away before Bruce could fully envelop him in a hug. Always pulling away from the embrace claiming he was fine as the tears continued to fall down his cheeks. Bruce had never pressed as he never felt he had the right words to say. Because ‘I know how you feel’ and ‘I’ve been there too’ didn’t really seem like great words of comfort.

But maybe they were the exact words that Dick needed to hear.

“Oh Dickie, come here,” Bruce offered, his arms outstretched and his own eyes filling with unshed tears. He gathered Dick in his arms and settled him on his lap. The boy practically melted into his embrace.

“I don’t feel good, Bruce,” Dick bawled, his breaths hitching from crying so hard. “I want – I want my mom.

The last sentence was said in a whisper in between sobs. Dick’s fingers tightened as he clung onto Bruce in a desperate hug.

“I m-miss her,” Dick mumbled, trying to catch his breath and failing. “I miss how – how she made everything better.”

Bruce’s heart sank; his own tears finally falling down his cheeks. She made everything better. It echoed in brain and he couldn’t deny that the boy was right. Of course, Dick missed his mom; it made sense that he missed her. Every child who felt ill wanted their mom to be the one holding them, taking care of them, and making their favorite comfort foods; not some stranger they’ve barely known for six months.

He hugged Dick a little tighter and sighed. They had come a long way these past six months, dealing with Dick’s anger and trust issues that had only been fueled by Bruce’s incompetence and neglect in the guise of protection. While necessary changes to his schedule were made to fit Dick into his busy life and it had changed the dynamic in how they interacted with each other; the change still didn’t do much to help Dick feel safe enough to talk to Bruce about the loss of his parents. Until now, so naturally Bruce took advantage of a missed opportunity.

“I know you do. I know you miss her so much and I’m so sorry,” Bruce empathized, resting his cheek on the Dick’s head and rubbing small circles on his back. “I know – I know how you feel, chum. I really do. I’ve been where you are and it – well it sucks.”

Dick nodded in silent agreement and continued to cry.

“I know it feels like – it feels like the pain is so much bigger than you, but one day it won’t feel so big and overwhelming,” Bruce comforted, wiping away his own tears with his free hand. “And – and while the hurt won’t go away completely. It will get better in time. For you, that I promise.”

Bruce continued to hold Dick as his body calmed from his crying jag. The boy’s breaths slowly regulating from shuddering gasps to hiccups. Bruce was happy to finally be able to provide such comfort to Dick after so many months of him pushing him away. His feelings were never hurt from the boy’s rejection, Bruce understood firsthand that type of vulnerability and transparency in grief can be scary, especially in an unknown environment.

He had hoped that their conversation today would help pave the way to more talks and further healing for Dick. Bruce was confident the boy would be alright, but these difficult conversations had to be something that Bruce initiated and participated in as well.

“Any time you want to talk ab out your mom or your dad; come find me, okay?” Bruce offered, giving Dick a reassuring smile. He wiped away Dick’s remaining tears with his thumb. “Even if it’s in the middle of night. Understand?”

Dick nodded, his breaths finally evening out.

They sat on the bed in companionable silence. Bruce hummed a tune he remembered his mom singing whenever she was knitting or just needed to fill the silence. He could slowly start to feel Dick’s body going boneless against his chest with exhaustion; his breaths gradually getting deeper with sleep.

Just as Bruce was about to close his eyes a knock on the door startled him and woke up Dick.

“Here is your toast, Master Dick,” Alfred announced, setting a tray on the other side of the bed. “I also added a few digestives and the last juice box until I can get the apple juice you requested.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Dick sniffed, still clinging onto Bruce.

Bruce brought the tray closer to Dick so the boy wouldn’t have to move from his place of comfort.

“You are very welcome, young sir. If there is nothing else you require of me, I shall leave to retrieve the necessary items.”

An hour later, once Alfred returned with the medicine, Bruce was pleased to finally be able to give the boy some much needed relief from the headache and congestion. Dick still wouldn’t let Bruce leave, so Bruce suggested they move to the media room to watch a movie.

Bruce covered them with a blanket thin enough to make Dick comfortable, but not too thick to spike his fever. Dick settled himself right up against Bruce’s side, draping a thin arm around him and using Bruce’s chest as a pillow. Dick fell asleep ten minutes into the movie. Bruce stayed watching the rest of the movie, carding his fingers gently though Dick’s hair relishing the closeness and comfort he was finally able to provide his hurting foster son.

[skellebonez]

The prompt you wrote with baby MK was extremely cute, but it also gave me an idea that wouldn't leave my brain: Imagine that same situation, but with Mei and Macaque. This is an open prompt, you can do with this whatever you like!

MK isn’t the only one who gets to have this kind of curse/ailment anymore! And I can’t resist putting this in the Cursed AU specifically, simply because I love the idea of this Macaque being confronted face first with the fact he actually cares. Even if it happens 200 times.

"What in the absolute hell are we supposed to do now?" Macaque groaned out, looking around the both of them for any indication of an escape that didn't involve him leaving Mei behind. Which was looking slimmer and slimmer if he didn’t want her to be in more physical danger than she already was. So. Stranded it was.

"I can still help!" Mei insisted, crossing her arms and standing her ground with a wide smirk. "I'm not powerless you know!"

"Never said you were, Jade," Macaque acknowledged instantly, tensing for a half moment when he realized how much he had to be attached to say something like that so fast. He forced himself to relax once again, no point in adding more fuel to the fire of worry that laid between them. "This just makes things complicated."

Oh yeah... complicated, that was one way to put it, definitely. If Macaque was being generous. And ignoring the fact that Mei wasn’t even 4 feet tall... and 4 years old. Physically.

Macaque was supposed to be on official mystic monkey business alone. Or at least that’s what he told Mei and MK to hopefully keep them out of his fur, but apparently Mei had other ideas. Like sneaking onto the private boat he had paid for to be taken to this secluded island far out into the ocean undetected, much farther than Mount Huaguo was. How she managed to sneak past security he may never know, now would he know how she managed to stay hidden for their 7 hour journey, and he would never admit that he was genuinely impressed.

He genuinely had not known she joined him until after the boat left, leaving them both stranded for at least the next 24 hours.

Horray.

Things had actually been going pretty ok, for the most part, after she had made herself known. In actuality Macaque was here to hunt down a specific item of his he had left behind on the island years ago, nothing really world shattering just... important to him. He knew that it would be safe here when he left it, the island as uninhabited and out of the way for humans to come to as it was.

But he also knew many powerful demons occasionally used this island as a hiding ground for when they were injured or planning something, against the owner’s wishes. And unfortunately one such demon just happened to be there on the one day of the while year he planned on coming.

That demon was deader than anything else on this island at the moment. Macaque hadn’t tried to kill him, not really, but they had lobbed something at him that Mei jumped in front of and he reacted on instinct.

If the thing had hit him in the first place they would probably be just fine. A decade and a half off his life span was nothing, unless it was set to a specific age in which... well, he was already able to do most of what he could do as a child so they still probably would have been ok. And hopefully she would be, if his memory served this particular demon was talented only in making temporary cursed and potions... mostly.

He hoped.

“Are you certain using your powers won’t hurt you?” Macaque asked, staring down at the short girl before him.

“I don’t think so?” Mei said with a shrug. “I mean, I’ve kinda had them for as long as I remember so... probably not.”

“Let’s not take that chance,” Macaque said with a sigh, looking around the beach. There was nothing for him to use, no emergency radio or boat. The best they had found on their entire search was a dinky little shelter. “It looks like our best bet would be to hunker down in that building and wait until mid day tomorrow for the boat to return. Provided there aren’t any more demons around we should be fine...”

“I can build a fire!” Mei proclaimed, running off before Macaque could even hope to catch her.

Something pulled in his chest, a protective thrum that he hadn’t felt since... since his journey with MK, but was becoming increasingly common the more time he spent training Mei. And he hadn’t felt that for so long he had forgotten what it felt like when it happened then, so unfamiliar with the desire to protect his old home and monkey friends of Mount Huaguo.

He would never admit even to himself that that feeling was “caring”. At least not yet.

“Jade, get back here!” Macaque yelled, moving to rush off after her before she came barreling back herself with armfuls of sticks and pine cones.

“I got everything we need!” She laughed and threw everything down in front of the building, looking around. “Did you see any rocks?”

“I know how to build a fire,” Macaque said softly, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “We probably don’t even need one.”

“Aw, but this is like a camping trip now!” Mei said, flailing her arms in the direction of the sticks. “I’ve even got marshmallows in my backpack!”

“Why did you bring m-never mind,” Macaque groaned, rubbing his face and sighing deeply. “OK. We’ll build a fire.”

~

It had gone better than hoped, actually. Macaque was able to start the fire with ease and Mei had apparently thought ahead enough that she’s brought the ingredients to make something called s’mores. Macaque had never seen them before, either they were new or they were a foreign treat, but MK had mentioned them to him on their journey and he had to admit... they were nice.

He just wished the gooey marshmallow didn’t stick to his fur so bad.

“And then MK did something that made the clone glow gold and explode into a bazillion pieces of hair!” Mei said, sweeping her arms out as she finisher her story. “And that’s how MK created and saved me from Porty Clone.”

“Sound like MK’s clones had quite the variety to them,” Macaque said with a smile. He’d relaxed over the evening, the normal sounds of the island confirming to him that it was just the two of them now and that at the very least they were safe from attack for the moment. “No wonder he’s careful not to overuse them.”

“Yeah, but Porty was pretty fun until he went overboard,” Mei replied, words cutting off with a yawn and a shiver as the wind picked up. “What time is it?”

Macaque looked up, watching the moon and the stars. “Late enough that it would be best to get some rest. We don’t want to miss the boat after all.”

“Hey, you only paid them half so they better come looking for you if you don’t show up!” She laughed out, making her way into the building as Macaque dumped sand on the fire to douse it. Just in case, don’t need the island catching fire with the wind. “ So uh... what are you going to tell them about... me?”

“That I came here looking for you,” he said plainly, shutting the door behind them. The moonlight shone through the windows of the shelter, giving them just enough light to see the one sad little cot it housed, right next to the massive stock of canned food they had also raided for dinner. He pulled the blanket on the cot back, grimacing at the dust on the blanket but satisfied with the condition of everything under it. He went outside to shake it out and make it usable again. “They know I was looking for something and that’s all they need to know.”

“What were you looking for anyway, Hot Topic?” Mei asked after a moment, watching Macaque make the bed again. “And how do you... know about this place?”

“... it’s mine, actually,” he said quietly, looking around the sad shelter. Unfurnished, cold and empty, with only the island itself and non-perishable food for survival. “I haven’t been back in a long time and most know to stay away, but sometimes demons don’t care. I was looking for something... unimportant.”

“It must have been important if you came all this way to find it,” Mei said, yawning again and rubbing her eyes.

“Ok, that’s enough of that!” Macaque exclaimed, hoping his glamor was hiding the embarrassed flush of his ears at her accusation. “Time for sleep!”

Without giving her a second to protest Macaque grabbed her around the waist with his tail and deposited her under the now clean enough blanket before forcibly tucking her in.

“Hey!” She protested, scowling at him once her arms were free. “I can’t sleep yet!”

“Why not?” Macaque chanced, wondering if he was going to regret this.

“You never told me a story.”

“... huh?”

“At the camp fire!” Mei insisted, leaning over the bed to grab her backpack and hold it to herself like it was a stuffed animal (which wasn’t hard since it was... basically a hollow stuffed dragon anyway). “I told you a bunch of stories about me and MK and Piggy and Tangy and Sandy and you didn’t tell me anything about you and the Monkey King! So spill one, I’m not going to sleep until you do!”

Macaque wanted to say no, wanted to glare at Mei until she just went to sleep through sheer exhaustion, wanted to walk out of the building and just stand guard at the door instead... but he kept looking into her teeny tiny 4 year old glower and he couldn’t help but sigh in defeat.

“Fine...” He said after a moment, moving to sit at the head of the bed. He watched as Mei smiled widely, making herself comfortable. “Let’s see... where should we begin... How about the time Wukong thought it would be a good idea to challenge the whole island to 1 on 1 combat for the title of king because he was bored, long before his proper training?”

“That sounds like him,” Mei said, smiling into her backpack with another yawn as she closed her eyes. “Yeah... tell that one.”

“OK, so this was only a little while after he jumped through the waterfall...”

And Macaque went on and on, giving much more detail than necessary, watching as Mei slowly relaxed until she eventually nodded off before the story even got close to the ending.

Which was... probably good for Macaque, to be honest.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the item he had come here to find. It was simple, all things considered. A little carved crown, made from wood and preserved carefully through the years, far too small for his head and more of a bracelet. Wukong had made it for him when their own duel, the final one of the whole island, ended in a draw all those centuries ago. A show of how they could, maybe, rule the mountain together one day. He’d left it here so long ago that he worried it would have been destroyed or fallen apart over time.

Apparently Wukong knew a little something about what he was doing back then after all.

Macaque smiled, slipping it back into his pocket as he slid off the bed to sit against it, all six ears fluttering out to listen to the island around them. Just in case.

Mei slept mostly soundly behind him and if she started to whine in the beginnings of a nightmare and he turned around to soothe her and whisper that he was there and she was alright well... that would be something to talk about if she remembered it.

[honeyhenry]

Homeward Bound

A/N: This was NOT meant to be this long...but I was inspired and now we have this... dad!Syverson....you can thank me later :)

Warnings: army-related talk, labour, fluff (because i rue the day I actually write anything other than that)

After an honourable stint, Captain Syverson had finally finished up his active duty in the army, having chosen now to spend his life devoted and committed to you. While every second week he had to make a daily 45 minute commute up the road to train newbies needing a boot up their asses to prepare for the realities of war, Sy was able to come home to you just in time for dinner every evening. He got the best of both worlds, earning a solid pay with training up new recruits, and having the ability to make good on those promises he made you way back before he told you that the next tour would be his last.

He had kept his first promise within a month of him returning for good - giving you a shiny ring that he’d had the deposit down on for as long as he can remember. That was his most nerve-wracking promise to keep, even though you’d assured him no matter what, the answer would always be a “yes”. His second promise was also signed, sealed, and delivered within weeks of his return, most likely conceived in celebration of your engagement.

That promise had stuck with you a little more than the first; “Gonna put a baby in ya, peach. Can promise ya that I’m ready for wantin that with ya.”

Sy had arrived home in October, and there you were, round and ready to pop at the end of the following August.

During your labour on that warm summer’s day, he’d been gritting it out right beside you, clutching your hand and holding your half full cup of ice chips, using his best Captain voice in offering encouragement. Between contractions you had cried, screeched, and panicked. It had seemed Sy had given you the big baby he had been so certain of.

“Your baby’s too big Syv, it hurts so much...”

“Peach believe me, if I could I’d take all this pain for ya I would” he had comforted you, knowing by making eye contact that he meant every word. You had relaxed momentarily at the love you held for him, before the pain hit again leaving you crying and screaming once more.

And then Captain Syverson heard the words that he detests, typically uttered from his soldiers in the base camps or training rounds. 

“I can’t...”

It’s a cowards way of thinking, a poor outlook on life, and it makes the entire side weak because of one weak link. It angers him to no end, and he usually ends up heading off alone to clear his head. But not when it’s you

“I can’t do it, Sy...”

You’re the strongest person he knows, pushing out a brand new Syverson into the world with minimal medication and a steely determination for the past 14 hours. You’re no coward, and you’re by no means weak. He’s had men on his side who haven’t blinked in the face of adversity and terrorism, and yet here you were, stronger than the lot of them in every way.

“Yeah you can, peach. Ya think I’d put my baby in any ol’ fool? No it’s you, ‘cause you’re the strongest woman I know. C’mon now, let’s have us a baby.”

And then you did it, almost an hour later and she’s earth-side. As the sun had set on the last day of a sweltering August, it is as though the room cools to a warm breeze, the world stopping in its tracks as you birth your sweet baby Syverson, born in the first minutes of a new September. She’s all yours, and when the doctor announced above the primal, wild screams that “it’s a girl!” you’d looked to Sy, watching him as he cried. It was just a couple of tears, and he won’t admit that they happened, but it sure as hell doesn’t make him any less proud.

You’ve only been cooped up in the room for 24 hours, and while you and baby Syverson have been cared for and helped with the basics (along with you receiving a substantial amount of pain relief), Sy wanted you and his baby girl home so that he could be the one to take care of you both; plump your pillows, fetch you cups of tea, burp the baby, dote on her endlessly. All within the quiet, cosy home you’d made together over the past years and months. Pictures lined the walls, featuring happy memories including your courthouse wedding that had been planned and occurred within a week of knowing about baby Sy. Your big gruff man just couldn’t take not having you as his wife, especially when you were carrying his child.

There’d also been a picture of the sonogram taped to the fridge in your quaint little kitchen, courtesy of Sy wanting to see the baby each morning before heading to work, or while he cooked you a warm breakfast. It’s as though he didn't keep updated pictures in his wallet and in his truck, right next to a beautiful picture of you. From your first sonogram with “SYVERSON” printed at the top, Sy loved to see his growing family, and always taped the newest scan picture right on top, using the same piece of tape he’d just found laying around one afternoon. Now, after plenty of pictures taken on his phone, he was going to update the fridge once more to feature a picture of the little pink squish with big bug eyes and a smattering of dusty brown hair. Maybe he’ll add some new tape, too.

Now three Syversons would live in this home, where old caps, worn from war and still grimy after a couple of washes, lay around the house, and where a still somewhat-tinged green Aika would roam freely - except on the bed. Sy was adamant that Aika never jumped or slept on the marital bed. That was his place, with his woman. The wooden interior and cosy fireplace that Sy himself had built, made it an even more homely and special place for you both to live. The perfect place out in the country to raise your girl. 45 minutes from Sy’s work, 15 to the local school. It was a dream, and now it had come true, as you watch him lift your princess into the baby carrier, fastening her in and watching her little pouty face as he removes his large, warm hands that you know she must adore being held by already.

He’s so glad that he can now take you both home. He insists on carrying both the baby carrier and the hospital bag from the past few days as you both leave the room where your girl entered the world, now entering the real world and all the opportunities she would have out there to explore. Since you don’t have to lift a thing, you just get to watch the sweet view of the “scary” Captain Sy check things off mentally to make sure you've brought everything.

“As long as we bring the baby home, I think we’ll be okay” you grin, and he blinks out of his organised, battle-ready mindset for a moment, remembering that this wasn’t some covert operation. This was a big deal, but one that is exciting and new and as Sy turns to look at his daughter again, it seems he’s already forgotten how tiny she is. She’s wrapped up, but Sy insists that he wraps the carrier with his flannel top, protecting the baby from both the sun, and any chill that pierces the air. He can’t resist a final little peek into the baby carrier as you sign the final documents to discharge you both from the hospital. You even hear him talk to your sweet girl, having one of their first little talks together.

“i’ll show ya a real home, just wait. Nun’a this bright light and doctors nonsense. Got a crib with your name on it ya can be all cosy in. Built it myself while Momma watched. You are gonna be so loved up with her, she is everything sweet in the world. Just like you princess.”

“I thought i was your princess?” you interrupt him and...is that a blush you see mark his cheeks? If only his men knew the state you could get the great Captain Syverson into, and most likely that your baby girl will be able to as well.

“You’ve been promoted peach, after all that giving birth to her, you’re a queen among peasants. I got two number 1 gals now. Gotta be ya knight in shinin’ armour.”

All the war torn memories, the killing, and the violence from his past, doesn’t mean a thing. It baffles him to this day - he still doesn't know how he’s ended up with two slices of heaven in you and your baby girl, but he’s selfish and he’s keeping you all for himself.

“You can be a Captain to your men but you’re our King, Sy. I know you’ll always protect us, and she’ll grow up knowing that too. Now come on. Let’s get her out of here. Lead the way Daddy?” you grin, watching as he proudly marches through the doors of the ward with a tight grip on the baby carrier, while the bag is slung over his shoulder.

The rest of his life with you and baby Syverson, just waiting on the other side.

taglist: @seriouslygoodlookinggents @ohmygoodie 

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit​ for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact. 

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication. 

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive. 

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.” 

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both." 

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours. 

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it. 

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night. 

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again. 

Oh, he was so fucked. 

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you. 

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood. 

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you. 

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey. 

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.” 

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble. 

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek. 

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face. 

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” 

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.” 

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much. 

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends." 

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks. 

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises. 

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max​ @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates!

[delimeful]

(dont) take this the wrong way (6)

warnings: misunderstandings, trauma responses, illness

-

Patton and Roman went in circles for a moment on who should carry Logan, eventually settling on Patton, since Roman was the quicker between the two of them and they were alarmingly unsure of what the small mer was planning— or how negatively that plan would affect the little guy.

Roman couldn’t help but be a little jealous anyways at the sight of the human pressing his tiny face against the palm of Patton’s hand, still mostly unconscious despite the jostling. It was unfairly adorable, and he never got to hang out with humans that weren’t terrified or fled at the sight of him.

Logan had started off scared too, sure, but after they’d cleared that little misunderstanding up, the human had shooed him away with an itty bitty stern look.

He’d listened, of course, he certainly owed these two that much, but internally he was gleeful at how bold Logan was when hanging out with them. Maybe he’d even come back and they’d learn more of his language and he could needle the nerd into telling him more about surface life—!

But of course, that required that he get better first.

It seemed obvious now, with the feverflush to his skin and the subtle tremor even as he slept, but the signs were so tiny on him, they might not have noticed for ages yet. He was inordinately grateful that the little mer had brought it to their attention, even if it also meant learning just how lowly the little guy thought of them.

When they returned from the air room, the tiny mer hadn’t twitched from his spot, though he looked as though he wanted to vibrate right out of his skin.

Agonizingly, he only seemed to get more stressed at the sight of Patton’s cupped hands, gaze darting between them for a moment before he flitted forwards and pressed an earfin to the makeshift airseal, staying in place only long enough to catch the sound of Logan’s little raspy breaths.

Roman opened his mouth, arms sliding up to gesture, and the tiny mer shot all the way back across the room like quicksilver. He had a moment to realize that with that speed, they’d never have ‘caught’ him in the first place if he hadn’t been trapped by that net, and then he felt immensely guilty for clearly spooking the little guy.

“How about you lead the way?” he asked, trying to distract their flighty little friend before he started tearing hair out. “The exit is one cave down, we’ll follow to wherever you think is the best place.”

He was shaking his head before Roman even finished. “No, I’ll follow, you— whoever stole him, you have to take him back to that beach. You remember... right?”

Roman turned to glance at Patton, who nodded firmly. “I’ll get us started then, kiddo.”

He cradled his cupped hands to his chest and swam deeper, easily twisting through the exit tunnel into the open ocean. Roman nodded at the little mer and followed, hoping that the little guy wouldn’t just vanish.

Only a moment later, he flitted out after them, and Roman caught the desperate longing that crossed his expression for a moment at the sight of wide open terrain. It vanished after a single glance at Patton’s cargo, replaced by a grim scowl.

If it weren’t for the human, Roman had the feeling that the mer would have turned and vanished, too quick and small for them to ever see again.

Instead, he hovered carefully out of lunging reach as they traveled, watching their every move with narrowed eyes. Every unconscious twitch of Patton’s hands seemed to make him flinch in response, as though he was expecting something horrible would happen to the human at any moment.

Normally, Roman would have been quite offended about this implied slight against Patton’s character, since his friend was just about the gentlest guy he knew. With circumstances what they were, however, he remained silent. He knew that this wasn’t really a reflection on Patton, but rather someone else entirely, a phantom presence that was still haunting the small mer.

Roman let out a breath of relief when they finally resurfaced, a human beach visible nearby. Patton unfolded his hands as soon as they were above water, and they both peered nervously down at the human.

“He doesn’t look like he’s gotten any worse,” Patton murmured, angling his hands so their small tagalong could see as well. “This is fairly close to the beach I found him at!”

“It seems the early hour has served us well,” Roman added, making sure not to gesture as he usually would. “There doesn’t appear to be anyone else around. Should we set him on the beach?”

The tiny mer jolted when he realized that they were both looking to him, flitting back and forth in nervous motions. “Uh, yeah— Yes. But be careful. And make sure you put him high enough that the tide can’t drag him back.” He continued in an undertone, “With his luck, it’ll be ages before another human appears.”

“I’ll do it!” Patton announced, already pushing forwards to shallower waters. “Roman’s likely to beach himself if he goes too far inland, and that’s shore to make things difficult!”

Roman groaned, flicking his fingertips at the siren. “That was one time! One-time incidents don’t qualify for pun-based bullying!”

Patton’s muffled laughter got quieter as he shifted to lay vertically, scooting forwards until his chest was scraping the sand and his arm could extend to set Logan gently against the beach incline. Logan’s head lolled to the side, but he seemed unlikely to go anywhere, and was in plain sight of anyone passing by.

Roman glanced down at the tiny mer, who was staring over the waves at the human, finally looking a little less stiff and stressed.

Patton wiggled back until he could tread water upright again, sharing a little cheer with Roman at a successful quest. Their guest’s tension returned immediately, that little shadowed gaze snapping back onto them.

Roman and Patton exchanged a glance, uncertain of how to proceed, but before anyone could speak, they heard a small, hacking cough.

Logan was awake, just a little too late for him or Patton to say goodbye. He probably wouldn’t have understood, but it would have been nice anyhow. Roman watched as he rolled to something resembling upright, his limbs trembling weakly. He was looking back and forth, not just noticing the new decor, but searching.

Roman glanced down to the small mer, who had set his shoulders and continued looking firmly away from the beach. He sunk a little lower in the water, trying to make eye contact. “Would you like to go and say goodbye before he leaves? Or, tell him what’s going on, perhaps?”

He shook his head once, sharply, and Roman felt a little pang of sympathy at the way his ear fins kept angling back at every noise the human made.

Logan was calling out now, the same word repeated at increasing levels of urgency. “Virgil?”

The mer still refused to glance back. “I’m not breaking the deal. You upheld your half, and you’re going to keep upholding it, and I’ll uphold mine. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’d drifted closer to Roman as he spoke, but it didn’t feel like any sort of progress. He’d tucked all those extra flares and frills away, smoothing himself down as though he was calm— or resigned.

Roman glanced up at the beach, where Logan still called. As he listened, that little voice cracked midword, desperation slowly turning to despair. He moved to cup his hand underneath the little mer, his heartstrings pulling at the way he let out a slow, shaky breath and closed his eyes, even as Roman lifted him up from the ocean entirely.

Patton opened his mouth as if to speak, but Roman met his eyes and shook his head, promising with his gaze alone that he knew what he was doing. His friend glanced down at the little guy worriedly, but held his tongue.

With one strong push, Roman slid up to the beach’s edge, grimacing slightly as the water became shallower and shallower. His arms were longer than Patton’s, though, and so he had little trouble reaching over and depositing his handful of seawater & tiny mermaid directly next to Logan.

“Virgil!” the human said, relieved, and he reached out to latch onto the mer, confirming Roman’s name suspicions.

‘Virgil’ had yelped like a baby seal upon being upended onto the beach, and he was now blinking between Roman and Logan with an air of extreme bewilderment.

“Virgil,” Logan said again, now in a very different tone. He wore a tiny, furious expression as he launched into what sounded like a somewhat-feverish lecture. He also reached over and pulled the mer into a hug, confirming Roman’s ‘he had no idea Virgil was going to pull this’ suspicions.

Roman was so right about so many things today. Everyone should listen to him all the time!

He wriggled back a little, intending to give them some privacy to talk, and made absolutely no progress. Uh oh. He glanced down at the others.

“I am just a little bit, slightly, somewhat, completely beached again,” he told them, his face growing hot. “I hope you two appreciate that I did this even though Patton is absolutely never going to let me live this down.”

“Need me to reel you back in, kiddo?” Patton called, right on cue. Roman sighed, planting his face in the crook of his elbow for a moment.

“Just a moment,” he called, and then met Virgil’s wide eyes from over Logan’s shoulder. “It seems like there’s still much for you both to discuss, my undersized acquaintances. We shouldn’t stay so close to land for long, but I imagine you’ll feel better if you keep him company until someone comes for him, right?”

Logan’s brief spark of energy seemed to be flagging, but every time Virgil attempted to disengage from the hug, he clung on tighter. After a brief moment of hesitation, Virgil conceded to the clinginess and simply nodded at Roman, still half-braced for something awful.

Roman gave him his most reassuring smile. “Then that’s what you’ll do. You know where to find me or Patton, if you need us!”

“Really?” Virgil asked, hands fisting in the back of Logan’s shirt. “You’ll let me-- you’ll leave us alone? Just like that?”

Roman nodded, lips twisted in sympathy. “Just like that.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, fins flattened against the sides of his head-- and then he took a deep breath, loosened his grip just slightly, and nodded back.

[lovingastory]

So, on the Slayers Discord we were discussing the way Lina is forced to face the consequences of her actions throughout the novels, and this sparked my Muse. I am really not used to writing fiction in English (not my first language), but I had to try. The story is set sometime after novel 17 and includes  novels’ spoilers up to that moment. It was also heavily inspired by the picture below. Hope you enjoy it! 

The warm late afternoon light flooded the fields, and the air smelled of flowers.

Gourry and I were sitting under a tree, on top of a hill. It overlooked the main road, at a safe distance from the crowds. The countryside was unusually busy – some sort of spring festival, attracting travelers from all over. We had agreed to lay low for the moment, taking side roads and (as much as I hated the discomfort) steering clear of inns.

That’s why Ran had disappeared on the path leading to the closest town. She had offered to get supplies, and ‘to let us be alone for a while’. She had a knack for making inappropriate observations, it appeared.

As if I hadn’t enough things to worry about, at the moment.

“You alright, Lina?”

I glanced at Gourry. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“I can tell.”

I frowned, and he smiled. “This line here pops out only when you think too much.” He poked at my forehead with a finger, and I swatted it away, out of habit more than real annoyance.  

“It’s a pretty sight, though, isn’t it?”

He turned back to the landscape, and I did the same – a sea of flowers, extending as far as I could see. They were unusual blossoms, ones I didn’t remember ever seeing in our part of the continent. And yeah, they were pretty. I had been so busy stewing over our current predicament, I hadn’t even let myself enjoy the view.

Leave it to Gourry to be the observant one.

“Reminds me a bit of our peach orchards, back home,” I said.

“You’ll show them to me soon enough,” Gourry replied.

“You sure about that?”

I’d have kicked myself for sounding so whiny. What was wrong with me, lately? Yeah, I was homesick. I had accepted that, but there was nothing I could do about it, was there? Except trying to actually get home, and complaining and being depressed wasn’t going to be of any help in that.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He was watching me now, his fingers playing with one of the blossoms the wind had swept our way.

“It’s just…” I sighed. “Lately, I’ve been thinking about the consequences of my actions.”

“That’s new.”

“Shut up.”

He smiled, in his warm way, and I quickly looked away. I couldn’t bear it, not just now. “I’m serious.” I said. “The things I did in the past, they come with a price. The way I learned to use that spell…”

I thought he would be confused, but for once he was surprisingly quick in the uptake. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for that spell,” he said. “The world as we know it wouldn’t.”

“Still. When I learned it, I didn’t know that. I was just curious to test my knowledge and my skills. That’s who I am.”

“It’s part of who you are.”  

“But maybe those people hunting us aren’t wrong. I do bring calamity with me.” I brought it on you. I couldn’t say that. Even after all that time, I still couldn’t talk of when he was taken from me.

Gourry said nothing. Because there’s nothing to say. But even as I thought it, I knew he was just waiting for me to elaborate.

“I guess I am afraid that a time will come when we don’t barely escape, or find a way to defeat the next big enemy. A time when who I am properly catches up with me.”

“Lina, you could walk the safe road all your life and still get killed in the stupidest way.”

Those words seemed to be more than just a casual remark. They made me wonder, not for the first time, about his past. We had this silent agreement, the two of us. At least, that’s how I’d come to think of it. There were things he wouldn’t ask about, and I returned the courtesy.

For some reason, what I immediately thought about was Mileena. One small cut, and you are gone. But she didn’t walk the safe road. None of us did.

“Yeah, but there is only so much tempting fate.”

“You didn’t tempt anything. You did the right thing with that Norst guy, you know.”

How could just hearing that feel so damn reassuring?

“Doing the right thing can still be very dangerous.”  

“You’re lucky that you have a proper bodyguard, then.”

In spite of myself, I found myself smiling at that.

I took in the landscape again, the pink and white of the blossoms, the blue of the sky. Yeah, it was beautiful. “I wonder if we’ll remember this, in the future, even when we get home.” I paused. “We shouldn’t overthink, should we? We should enjoy what we have while we have it.”

“That’s more like you.”

I turned to him. He wasn’t looking at the landscape, he was looking at me. He was wearing that smile again, his own kind of smile, almost too earnest. His hand was reaching for my hair.

He deposited a pink blossom there. “It suits you.” He said, jokingly.

“What doesn’t?”

He laughed, cupped my cheek with his hand. I leaned into it. I couldn’t even bring myself to pretend not to yearn for his touch anymore.

Everyone around us saw. Ran did. Even Luke had seen it and used it at our disadvantage, in his worst hour. Did I think I was protecting Gourry, by pretending those small touches, those gestures of affection were nothing? Did I think I was protecting myself – from another heartbreak, like the one Fibrizo had brought on me?

Maybe I was doing a poor job at both things. Maybe it wasn’t just sightseeing we should enjoy while we could.

“Gourry…”

“Lina-nyon!”

I startled, almost fell over. I looked down to see Ran, running up the hill, a big smile plastered on her face.

“I found food!” she announced.

Turns out she had a knack for bad timing, too.  

[nightingaelic]

Do that last one about Drunk weddings for the Sole Survivor, too. I may have my biases, but Fallout 4 can have a little love, as a treat.

Cait: "Don't be makin' so much noise in the back if you aren't going to share, you hear?"

Prior to her journey into Vault 95, Cait is just as stumbling drunk as the sole survivor, giggling with reckless abandon and daring guests to go a round with her outside the venue. She enlists the sole survivor to help her change out of her dress to make good on these bare-knuckle boxing promises, but the two of them wind up forgetting about the whole thing and singing loudly over the music on the dance floor. Post-sobriety, Cait heckles the sole survivor after they pass the point of no return, but she abstains in favor of demolishing Piper's gifted stash of Nuka-Cola.

Curie: "Do not indulge too much, mon glaçon. Excess of drink is the cause of many health problems."

Curie, ever the picture of innocent poise, laughs politely when the sole survivor starts making outbursts at the party, then corners them in the bathroom when she's free and insists they drink several glasses of water and eat some mirelurk cake hors d'oeuvres in front of her. She enlists Danse to help her carry the sole survivor to bed when they finally wear themselves out, and she does it all without staining or ripping her dress.

Danse: [speechless, awkward blushing]

Paladin Danse turns beet red when the sole survivor climbs onto a chair to get the party's attention for a toast, and dashes to their side when they start to wobble. To him, a wedding is no reason to let down his guard and drink, but the rest of his Brotherhood brethren don't share that viewpoint: Particularly Proctor Teagan, who is just as far in as the sole survivor. Once embarrassed, Danse tries to stay on the opposite end of the room, and steers his new spouse clear as well. He will give up his avoidance tactics if asked to dance, though.

Deacon: "Everyone drink up, we're trying to erase any memory of this get-together in case the Institute captures us and demands to know what menu and color scheme we picked."

Given his career and his own personal history, Deacon insists on having a small affair with close friends over a large shindig. He's mostly joking about forgetting the party- or is he?- but either way, he's handing out bottles of Bobrov's Best like it's going out of business. Valentine keeps side-eyeing him and calling him an "enabler," but Deacon couldn't care less.

Hancock: "Cheers to you, cheers to me, cheers to us and the whole fucking Commonwealth!"

The sole survivor's drunk? Good, so is Hancock. Like Deacon, the mayor of Goodneighbor is handing out bottles of booze left and right, along with palming chems to anyone in the Third Rail who looks too mellow. Whitechapel Charlie complains loudly when the groom and the sole survivor start dancing on the bar, but Hancock does not care one whit about property damage on his special day. That is, unless someone starts getting fresh with Magnolia.

MacCready: "So when I said partnering up with you beat drinking myself blind in Goodneighbor, that wasn't me saying we should switch spots, boss."

MacCready is too overwhelmed with disbelieving happiness on his big day to care if the sole survivor is wrecking shop. He's too busy staring at his new spouse holding Duncan and laughing with joy to notice the sole survivor spilling drinks on other guests, but he will perk up if they manage to hijack the jukebox. He'll roll his eyes, switch the song back to something more to his taste, and then drag the sole survivor onto the dance floor to work off some of their excess energy.

Valentine: "Gonna water that battery acid down with anything, or do I need to tell Vadim to cut you off?"

The synth detective takes in the sole survivor's antics with a wry smile before pulling them aside to make sure they're going to behave for the rest of the night. Any further shenanigans will earn them a withering frown from across the party. Rather than leave his new partner's side, he enlists Ellie and Piper's help in strong-arming them away from the moonshine supply and out into the fresh air for a bit.

Piper: "Really, Blue, on my wedding day? I don't do many editorial cartoons, but I think this might warrant one."

Piper has roses blooming in her own cheeks from drinking, but she'll insist the sole survivor switch to Nuka-Cola, park them in a chair next to her and toss tongue twisters at them until they can recite them back to her straight. Like MacCready and Danse, she will also accept some impressive dance moves as penance for their crime of disrupting the celebration, but if she starts dancing too, she'll slip quickly into the same territory of overdoing it.

Preston: "No thanks, but you keep going. We'll see whose head feels better come sunrise."

On the opposite end of the scale from Deacon, Preston doesn't want to forget a second of this day and is therefore abstaining. His Minutemen compatriots aren't though, so the sole survivor fits right in with the crowd. Ever the model of manners, Preston will join in on their drunken rendition of Dion's "The Wanderer," but he'll just as quickly bow out to go grab his new spouse a drink, chair, snack or anything else they might need.

X6-88: "Strange. The sensation leaves me unbalanced, but... warm. Perhaps the SRB was right to restrict substances such as this."

The Courser is puzzled the first time the sole survivor hands him a drink, but he accepts it and downs the lot admirably, shaking his head at the taste. He likes the way it makes him feel for a little bit, but learns quickly that if he keeps going, he'll wind up draped over the nearest furniture like the former vault dweller. Once the sole survivor is hiccupping and incoherent, he easily hoists them over his shoulder and deposits them as far away from the liquor supply as he can, ignoring the impressed cheers of Deacon and MacCready.

BONUS!

Gage: "No, I don't care if it was brewed in a settlement, that stuff'll knock you on your ass just as well as the beer that's been sitting still for 200 years."

Porter Gage has been dry for decades, and his own wedding isn't going to be enough to ruin that streak. Seeing as he's pals with a whole bunch of raiders, he can't well keep the rest of them from indulging, but he can sure as hell protest if the sole survivor tries to push a bottle on him. Repeated inquiries will earn them a black eye, but he'll let them steal his eyepatch for the rest of the night as condolence.

Longfellow: "Here's to full glasses an' fulsome lasses, ain't that right, honey? Bottoms up!"

There's not much to do on the island when you live alone, other than get really good at your hobbies and drink. Old Longfellow lives accordingly, and he can out-swig anyone attending his little party, including the sole survivor. By the end of the night, those who dared to pick up a glass around the man are under the table, while Longfellow is still singing sweet, fully-coherent lullabies to his new gal beneath the glow of the bottle lanterns. Knowing him, she's probably just as seasoned at drinking as he is.

Maxson: "Dull senses make for poor soldiers, but I suppose we can set our weapons aside for one evening."

Any Brotherhood of Steel Elder's marriage is a huge deal, and subsequently warrants a huge celebration. Alcohol flows freely at such parties, and any drunken behavior on the sole survivor's behalf is probably drowned out by hundreds of other Knights, Scribes and Lancers acting foolish too. Like Longfellow, Maxson holds his own in contest with everyone else, but doesn't push those around him to keep up. Anyone counting his drinks can't help but wonder where he's putting it. If the sole survivor's not too far gone, they can spot him dumping his glasses after a sip or two to keep up the mythic image, but he'll swear them to secrecy.

Desdemona: "Being able to take a moment to breathe can be just as vitally important for an organization as resupply missions or exterminations. Stop touching my hair."

The Railroad leader appreciates being able to cut loose, but she's still too paranoid to trust any glass handed to her and favors the flask inside her ballistic weave-armored dress that she fills herself. Once relaxed, this is the only time she'll allow the sole survivor and friends to get rowdy and fawn over her in the least. Liquored-up compliments on her outfit, her leadership abilities and her organization are fair game, but any probing into her personal background will result in her simply standing up and walking away.

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 6

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader

word length: 2.9K

chapters: 6/?

warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. more detailed content warnings are included at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers, click through the read more, CTRL + F “content warnings”.

notes: slightly shorter than my usual, but i needed to get some stuff fixed up. if ya’ll like my stories please consider donating to my ko-fi— a bitch is poor lmao

Steve swept you up in his arms and turned to deposit you on the landing upstairs, evidently trusting the others to keep you contained for a moment. There was an audible scuffle going on in the den, Bucky would be heard growling from outside—snapping at someone who made the mistake of asking how he’d gotten out there so fast? Tony was growling at Peter who looked seconds away from begging for forgiveness.

“You guys made it safe, I’m happy to see you Nat,” Steve drew the redhaired woman into his arms and sighed in relief, but you couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement; honestly you were having trouble thinking, your brain clouded with the sudden onset of absolute and uncontrolled panic.

The moment the black-haired man had been pulled away by the delta currently stomping back up the stairs, clarity had returned to you like a slap in the face. The golden fog that obscured your vision immediately dissipated and just as quickly you’d been overwhelmed with gut wrenching fear. You didn’t actually remember kicking Steve in the face or making a break for the stairs, but evidently you had and you cursed your hindbrain for running towards the stairs—you should’ve jumped straight out the window; you had a better chance at out running Bucky and whoever else was down there than the two alpha primes and their surrounding packmates.

Before you could even take a step towards the still wide-open window, the black-haired man appeared with a green flash and wrapped around you tightly. “Shhh , pet, no. No windows for you, darling, come now—back to your nest.”

In a moment of truly unusual harmony, your consciousness and hindbrain agreed that the bed was the last place you wanted to be. That wasn’t your bed, the omega hissed tearfully, you’d never made a nest—that wasn’t yours. It could barely be called a nest, even. There hadn’t been any careful consideration regarding the placement of the pillows and blankets, there were no articles of clothing or soft items that had been scavenged or stolen to elicit a feeling of safety or comfort. Worst of all was the way it smelled. Obviously, it didn’t reek, the mix of individual scents wasn’t a bad conglomeration, but your hindbrain whined at the unfamiliarity. This wasn’t your pack’s scent.

The cohesion was jarring, and you groaned. Regardless of the reasoning, your hindbrain was aware that you didn’t get to have a pack and that reminder always hurt. It desperately desired one, but an omega’s primary objective was survival.

After all, you in all of your fully conscious state knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would never have a pack—it wasn’t a matter of wanting or not wanting at this point in your life. You were too old to be regressed into the type of omega that packs wanted, your body too badly reliant on the chemical reactions produced by suppressants after fifteen years to stop taking them. At your age, to be found by a pack meant death.

They would get sick of trying to fix you. You’d die from quitting the suppressants cold turkey. They’d beat you for disobedience until your body gave up. You were nearly thirty and that was ancient for an unbound omega and you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks. Especially an old dog who was bound and determined not to be taught.

“LOKI!” Bucky bellowed as he stomped past Steve and the redhead on the stairs, looking three shades past furious.

The man holding you let go very quickly after that, spinning you away and moving to intercept the furious delta with an equally unpleasant expression. Why couldn’t you have just fucking kept it together upon meeting Bruce—that blood in the water, shark nosed asshole, if you had reigned in your panic there was no way he could’ve scented you through your suppressants. Steve was a different story, but if you’d been quick and calm you probably could’ve made it.

You scanned the room quickly; Bruce was on the bed, checking on Wanda. Bucky and Loki were on the floor fighting, half entangled with Peter and Sam who were doing their best to put their own fight aside to keep the deltas from killing each other. Steve was still halfway down the stairs with the other redhead, talking to her quietly. Tony was—

“Okay, princess, okay,” Tony was wrapped tightly around you from behind, carefully keeping your head braced between his chin and shoulder when you tried to thrash. “This isn’t fair to you, you’re way too fragile for this right now. Put your head here, breathe with me.”

“Please let me go,” you didn’t realize you were crying until you spoke, words coming out in sobs. “I don’t want to die like this, please—”

“You are not going to die, little love,” Thor sounded so sad from where he came to stand in front of you. “I’m not going to bond you, not while you’re so upset. But the results of the tests Bruce ran showed that you are in danger. I cannot allow that and no matter how angry you are with us, we will not let you suffer needlessly.”

“I’m not suffering! I swear, I swear I’m not suffering I’m, I’m happy! I’m happy living my life the way I have been. Please, let me have the choice, I want to be alone, it makes me happy!”

Trying to explain to a literal God why you deserved personal agency was an exhausting business, especially when said God was as condescending as Thor. His indulgent and sad smile was nearly enough to tip you over the edge, but there really wasn’t a point in getting angry—he obviously couldn’t even fathom the concept that what he was doing was wrong. It’s not like you could do anything anyway, you weren’t built for violence but for running away. Every bone in your body vibrated with rage; the injustice was overwhelming.

For fifteen whole years you’d been just fine. You would’ve continued to be just fine, if it weren’t for some super nosed freaks crossing your path. What were the odds of the only people in the world who could scent you from beneath more than a decade’s worth of suppressant use would have a cabin in Quebec that you happened to clean—and run into said people because they happened to show up early; an incredibly unusual situation.

It made you think about Mrs. Hunt. She’d only called to give you a heads up because of the last time, when the homeowner had tried to assault you even while he’d thought that you were a beta . You wondered how long it would take her to realize something was wrong; it was getting late and you’d yet to return her cart despite telling her you’d be there shortly.

The real question would be whether she tried to help or not once she discovered your presentation. She could try to help, try to stick them with omega theft, but they could claim civic duty like Peter had earlier. Besides, that was contingent upon her wanting to help you considering you’d lied to her for so many years.

“You’re so distressed, won’t you let me purr for you?”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare take away—”

“Little love, please—”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t even know me,” you spat, turning to address the room at large. “What kind of fucking superheros are you? Let go of me! Let me go!”

Tony sighed and hefted you up into his arms, one wrapped around your torso while the other hooked under your knees and pinned you carefully across his body. You struggled uselessly against his strong hold; he wasn’t as strong as Thor or Steve, but his bicep was massive next to your head and you could feel his muscles through his clothes as he walked to the bed.

“We can’t, princess,” he murmured into the side of your head as he lowered both of you to the bed, sitting propped against a mass of pillows in the corner. “We’ll never find an unbound omega in your age range again. Plenty of omegas have been offered to us, but they’re all practically children. You’re our last chance—”

“There are plenty! You said plenty! Pick the oldest who wants to be in this fucking shit show and leave me alone!” Everyone tensed when the tone in your voice approached a shriek.

“We’re not taking an omega who’s not even legal to drink—”

“That alpha is like eighteen!” You tried to gesture to Peter, who gaped at you like you’d wounded him, but your arms were still pinned tightly to your sides.

“Peter is twenty-four, actually,” Tony spoke with mirth when Peter jumped onto the bed and crawled until he was pressed against Tony’s side and your back. “And before you ask, Wanda is twenty-six.”

“We’re so lucky to have found you,” the alpha half purred, pressing his nose into the back of your neck. “We’ll make you happy, happier than you are now.”

“It’s gonna be a rough start,” Bruce laid down in the nest a few feet away, welcoming the woman you recognized as the Black Widow into his arms when she slithered into the bed. “We have to balance your hormones, or you will die. You wouldn’t have lasted another year on those suppressants.”

“Death would be a reprieve,” you hissed shortly, freezing when the tone of the room immediately changed.

All attention was suddenly on you, Bruce still making direct eye contact with those sad puppy eyes, “I know that feeling, sweetheart—”

“We will do it another way then,” Thor interrupted, sending Bruce a quieting but loving look. “I said I would not bond you while you are in distress anda I will never break a promise to you. Open your mouth, this will be quick.”

Steve seemed to sigh in response and followed to stand next to the other prime, “I lost my chance. You’ll help her?”

Thor leveled the shorter blond with a careful look before nodding, both showing signs of deference and affection and respect that you did not care for. The rattle of a belt prompted Tony to turn you, setting you carefully between his legs while continuing to hold down your arms with what could appear to be an affectionate bear hug. He even linked his fingers with yours, squeezing gently as you tried to squirm.

“No. No, no no no, that’s disgusting, I won’t—”

“Shhh , I’ll do all the work little love, all you need to do is swallow.”

He was jerking his cock carefully, a flick of his wrist near the head catching your eye. That was a dangerous weapon, the same way you’d come to learn Steve’s was and you had no intention of letting it anywhere near your mouth. You clamped your lips shut, teeth grinding.

“Stubborn,” Peter snorted a laugh and you would’ve snapped at him had his hand not dove between your thighs, fingers gliding through the slick lips of your cunt until he found your clit.

You had to stop yourself from screeching, the head of Thor’s cock directly in front of your face. “Very. Come on now, open up.”

The fingers pinching your nose shut came as a shock, you’d crushed your eyes shut out without realizing it and they snapped open when your face was assaulted. Steve was kneeling on the bed, carefully cutting of your air supply with one hand and stroking your head with the other.

“Come on, precious, you’ve gotta breathe,” he stated softly, smiling when you were forced to pull your lips back to gasp for breath—until he realized your teeth were still locked together. “Really ‘mega?”

The next thing you knew his thumb was shoving against your molars, literally prying your jaw open. There was no way to fight it without hurting yourself, especially once he wedged his thick thumb between your top and bottom teeth. You barely had a second to anticipate the horror before an unnecessarily large cock found it’s way between your lips.

You tried to shriek, your brain finally catching up to the whole series of events, but it was no use. His scent was overwhelming and his dick stretched your lips, your jaw forced completely open. Thor groaned, a triggering noise as he very carefully pressed forward until your mouth was completely full and he was settled against you tongue.

“Suck for me, little love, just a little,” he grunted, just barely working his member between your lips while his huge hand stroked the rest.

It took a surprisingly small amount of time for a massive load of cum to shoot into your mouth. It was thick, and the way that Thor growled immediately made your pupils blow wide like you’d done a line of coke.  

Your body went lax immediately and you swallowed on instinct when a hand gently rubbed your throat. The fuzz in your brain was the result of arousal, a brutal orgasm that rocked your body at the sound in combination with your body’s sheer delight at the taste of alpha cum. Somewhere you realized that was disgusting but the haze in your brain made you more focused on the hand between your thighs rather than the indignity.

“Man, this shit ain’t fair,” Sam complained, panting from the exertion of trying to prevent Loki and Bucky from killing each other. “They get to cuddle and we—Hey!  Quit that, man!”

“All of you stop fighting,” Steve’s alpha order was brutal and effective.

The sounds of scuffling from behind Thor stopped immediately and there were huffs and snarls and low grumbles but the nest started shifting all around you. You were dropped back to lay against Tony’s chest, having inadvertently swallowed the entirety of the god’s massive load.

“She’s so cute,” Wanda cooed from somewhere to your left.

“We’ll need to go over what we’re doing from here,” Steve sighed once everyone had settled, still watching your dazed expression with a small smile. “But let’s just… nest for a bit, okay?”

The word nest triggered something in your half alpha-cum stoned brained and you looked around the den with a displeased expression. It was a terrible nest; all of the pillows and blankets were in weird heaps and the scent was so wrong. You didn’t really want to nest here, your hindbrain grumbled in agreement, but you’d fix the damn thing. You whined and wriggled until Steve gave Tony the go ahead to stop fully restraining you.

The bed was incredibly soft, which was an upside and crawling across it was like sinking your knees into clouds as you collected the soft heaps of blankets and pillows as you went. You wanted everything off so you could start from scratch, brain muddled by the wrongness of the current layout. You wanted to wash the sheets, the pillow cases, the blankets, all of it. The scent wasn’t right.

“Help her.” It was a quiet request from the Black Widow, who’d also started shifting around to remove the items. “She doesn’t like it like this.”

It was easier to get everything pushed away and in neat piles with the packs’ help, everyone immediately moving to help organize the pillows. You only snapped at the blond beta—Hawkeye, your memory supplied— once for putting a soft blanket on the pile with the not soft blankets. He immediately gave an apologetic burr to which your hindbrain purred back instinctually; evidently a good reaction.

“Why does she like Clint? They haven’t even spoken.”

“She doesn’t like him, she snarled at him!”

“She hasn’t purred at anyone else!”

“Shut up, fuckin’ idiot.”

The noise you made was one of discontent and disdain, the arguing deltas immediately quieting. You didn’t argue with the chirping growl that meant displeased omega, not in a real pack where the goal was to keep omegas pleased and docile. Somewhere your brain reminded you that this wasn’t your pack but the alpha hormones filling your blood and confusing you and yet somehow all you could focus on was whining and pushing at pack members to get them out of the way as your rearranged; clicking your teeth grumpily when you were handed a blanket instead of a pillow or vice versa.

You found yourself being corralled back into the corner, where Natasha and Wanda immediately wrapped themselves around you. Thor had found Bruce and settled beside and settled near your feet where you’d built an intricate nest wall of pillows and blankets. Two of the deltas, Tony and Loki seemed to be glaring at each other—even as Tony laid himself completely on top of the other and they both relaxed into comfortable holds.

It was interesting, watching the pack dynamics as they moved between each other. Clint wrapped around Natasha from behind the same way Carol found her way behind Wanda. Peter had weaseled his way into curling against Loki’s side while tossing a leg over the man’s hip, subsequently laying it over the backs of Tony’s thighs. Sam, Bucky and Steve all found their way into a neat grouping on the bed closest to the stairs, piled as close to the subsequent piles of superheros as possible.

There was some sort of pattern beginning to form in the back of your brain but you were still too confused, too sucked into your own omega hindbrain by the overwhelming introduction of alpha hormone to your system. Instead of following the thought through to the end, you found yourself warm and comfortable and full and falling asleep tucked between the groupings of presentations as if it wasn’t totally, 100% against your will.

 content warnings: forced cum eating, chemical manipulation, dead dove: do not eat

[sw124]

BonelyHearts Reader Insert3

{Female!ReaderXSkeleton household}

Camping! Pt.2

[Recap: You and the entire skeleton household are camping, you an the boys have set everything up and are enjoying warm drinks by the fire. Papyrus is now asking you what you’d like to do now that everything is set up, we pick up from there]

You ponder think for a moment before recalling the pamphlet/map you picked up before you arrived at the campsite. You opened it and scrolled down the list of trails the area had, you passed the pamphlet around.

“Well, I was thinking we each take turns going hiking. I circled some trails that are both for short/long walks and some for hiking. One of them I think we can all enjoy is the ‘Paths of colors’ trail, its about a thirty minute walking path that takes you through the most scenic parts of the local forest where you can gaze at the fall foliage. Another one is the ‘Bridge’ trail where you go walking over bridges around the woods; lastly there’s the ‘Waterfall’ hiking trail where you hike to different waterfalls, creeks, rivers and ponds in the area.”

The skeletons each take turns looking at the trails you mention, each of them having their own opinion on a trail they want to take. Each of them had an opinion on what trail they wanted to go on, Nox, Boss, Blue and Papyrus all wanted to go on the ‘Waterfall’ trail, Poplar, Stretch and Ash wanted to see the ‘Path of Colors’ trail, everyone else opted for the ‘Bridge’ trail......now there was a problem, they all wanted YOU to go on the trails with them.

“Hold your horses boys, we’re staying for like three days we can all do the trails in that time. Besides I have more stuff planned other then just hiking ya know.”

“Like what?” Asked Poplar, sipping his coco.

“Well there’s a lake nearby where you can either go on a paddle boat ride down the rivier or rent canoes, there’s fishing, bird watching, an other relaxing stuff like that.”

You actually liked the idea of renting a canoe and just paddling around the lake or even down the river a little. The idea of being surrounded by the sounds of the forest coupled with the lapping of a oar through the rivers gentle current was just so tempting.

“That sounds like a lot of fun human!” Papyrus beamed, you were sure he was thinking about the canoes too.

“Hey we came to relax, ain’t paddling around just work?” Muttered Red, Rus softly agreed.

You smiled and turned to them. “Don’t worry guys, I already got this. Today a group of us will do the activities that are on the adventurous side, tomorrow another group will do activities that are on the leisure side and last day will be my day of activities; how does that sound?”

The skeletons look at each other, after a slight, awkward pause they all nod in agreement.

“Good then!”

You stood up, walked over to the kitchen canopy where you had previously set your bag, you dug out a small notepad and pen an sat back down.

“Now that we got that settled lets make our groups shall we?”

“You really intend to put us into groups?” Asked Boss.

“I did say there’d be two groups didn’t I?” That little dose of snark earned you a glare, you continued.

“Ok, the Adventure group activities for today are as follows. Hiking the Waterfall trail that will lead us back down to the lake where we can rent canoes and take a hour long ride along the river. When we get back we can have lunch and hike up ‘Grandads bluff’ a trail that takes you to a beautiful overlook of the entire forest. Then when we get back and if we have energy left we can do some fishing, catch and release only. That is on today’s agenda, now who would like to do this today?”

You started writing down names, Papyrus, Blue, Boss, Nox, and Poplar...though you were a bit worried about Poplar going on a long hike and you weren’t alone, Ash’s mouth was twitching, to the point he was biting the bottom half of his mouth.

You spoke up for him. “Poplar are you sure you can handle the hike, it’ll be a pretty long one.”

Poplar smiled. “Do not be worried for my sake, I’ll have plenty of friends with me in case something happens. I’m in wonderful hands!”

That smile of his should be outlawed, you couldn’t deny him now..that and he had a point he wasn’t going alone. You gave Ash a gentle nod, he reciprocated it by sharing a uneasy smile. You’d talk to him later and see if there was anything you could do to help ease his worries.

—————————————————————-

[Adventure start!]

The name may have been a little uninspired but then again you couldn’t help but feel it did the trail some justice. The six of you first passed by a small stream that carried some of the fallen leaves down the way. It started to widen to more of a creek though, you stopped and pointed out to Blue some of the cute little turtles sitting on the banks. The creek soon widened into more of a proper river.

You hiked up some steeper hills, that was a bit of a chore but those steeper hills also had smaller waterfalls around, they didn’t churn up white clouds of mists like larger ones did but they were just as pretty. The six of you had paused a moment to just listen to the river, it was whispering its soothing timeless lullaby.

Of course the whisper of the river began became silent, overshadowed by the thunder of the waterfall up ahead of you and your group. Cresting over the last hill you had arrived at the waterfall in question, it wasn’t a very tall waterfall. Not in the slightest, at best it was about as tall as a one story building but it was wide and it was beautiful. You read in the pamphlet that in the summer it was very popular swimming spot, it was a safe area to swim and there’s a tradition that the boys in the local scouts who complete/pass their swimming course would jump from the tallest part of the falls into the pool below as a rite of passage.

“My goodness...it’s absolutely marvelous!” Said Poplar, shielding his glasses from the mist coming from the waterfall.

“I was expecting something more grand but this is still nice.” Said Boss.

Nox simply nodded while Blue and Papyrus stared in silent wonder at the majesty before them. You stayed quiet, closing your eyes you just let the sounds envelop you. Lost in your thoughts...you imagined sitting on a porch as a thundershower runs its course. The mist of the rain against your face, the sounds of the thunder rolling through the sky....your thoughts were broken when a hand gently touched your shoulder.

“Hey you ok?” Asked Blue, you blinked and turned to him.

“Sorry, just got lost in my thoughts there...its just so pretty here.”

Papyrus hummed approvingly “Indeed human, this place is quite nice. You have great taste in destinations!”

After enjoying the falls for a bit and taking a few pictures the six of you hiked back down. You made sure to stick close to Poplar and help him down the steep hills, Papyrus helped out too. You and the boys took a different trail back that took you alongside the lake, as you walked you watched ducks, geese and a few sand cranes land fly by or land on top of the water or wade through the shallows.

The trail lead all the way back to the camp grounds but you and the boys bee-lined for the canoe rental hut, renting three canoe’s for at least an an hour an thirty minutes. You asked for an extra thirty minutes in case something happened......like the boys starting to fight or argue about things. Now came the hard part..who goes with who.

“How’s this going to work?” Blue asked looking at the canoe’s, he was thinking the same thing.

“Well obviously we choose a partner that won’t slow you down. I personally I’m thankful the others aren’t here, knowing Stretch or Sans they’d try an tip us over or something.” Said Nox as he inspected the oar’s.

You sighed and spoke up. “Look, I’ll set up the partners ok? I don’t wanna dilly dally and sit here arguing the entire time.”

There was some disgruntled jabs mostly from Nox...and a little from Blue but you were adamant, Boss, Poplar and Papyurs didn’t mind, he liked that you at least put thought in to your choices.

“Ok, Boss your partner is Papyrus, Nox your partners with Blue and lastly is Poplar and I, everyone got that?”

Everyone shared a look but gave you a firm nod, you smiled at them. At least they were not arguing about the arrangement. You took the front of the canoe you shared with Poplar, thankfully the river had small signs placed around for canoe and kayakers to follow so they didn’t get lost. Oh this truly was a treat, it really was. The slow pace down the river was the perfect way to wind down after a long hike, you tilted your head to one side to listen to the native birds. You could hear all kinds, chickadees, woodpeckers, finches, cardinals and morning doves to name a few.

You...felt tempted to splash Nox and Blue with your oar but decided not to. Last time you got Blue an Nox with a prank....well....you’d rather not think about it. You turned to check on Poplar a few times, he never noticed; he was just too absorbed in everything. Papyrus and Boss seemed to be getting along...well Boss seemed to be tolerating more then getting along. After coming around the last bend of the river you were right back at the lake, from where you were you could see all the campsites including yours. You actually got excited seeing the others walking around, you didn’t know why you just did.

Your excitement ebbed away when you heard your own stomach growling, yeah it was getting close to lunchtime. You returned the canoes and got your deposit back before returning.

“Hey, we’re back everyone!” You waved, as you expected they all were still in their chairs enjoying the fire.

“Welcome back, you guys have fun?” Asked Stretch.

“It was a blast! I can’t believe you guys ducked out of it, the waterfall was just beautiful!” Said Blue putting his hands on his hips, chest puffed out.

“It was an enjoyable experience, only made better with the fact that we were not disturbed by anyone’s nonsense.” Nox eyed the group that stayed behind.

You chuckle. “Alright guys, once we have lunch we’ll have one more hike an thats ‘Granddads bluff’. By the time we get back it’ll be time for dinner and-“

“Ohh....sorry to break it to you but that trail just got closed off, apparently a group of teens last night were setting off fireworks in there and somehow messed up the trail.” Russ didn’t make eye contact with you when he said that.

“What?! No way....”

Well that was a kick in the gut, that particular trail was suppose to be the grand jewel of the whole adventure day. Sans came up and patted your arm.

“Don’t be so down, besides if you guys went now there’d be no time to make dinner.”

You cocked your eyebrow at him, he took out his phone and showed you..it was already four in the afternoon!

Goodness it was almost time for dinner!

To be continued...

[Camping is huge in my family, mostly to my parents. They don’t do tent camping they do RV camping but I’ve gone with them and we did these kinds of things. So camping does have a special place in my heart, especially during autumn. This is dedicated to @bonelyheartsclub I hope you enjoy the next installment....is a surprise]

[btsmosphere]

Deep Rooted | KSJ

~summary: when a group of strangers washes up in your village, your trepidation is justified. Surrounded by forest here, no one goes in and no one goes out. How will you fare when you take in the new arrivals? ~pairing: seokjin x reader (gn) ~word count: 6.9k ~fantasy au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff ~rating: pg15 ~warnings: weapons, monsters, blood, injury, past character death, major character death (sort of)

~a/n: I wrote this fic to wish a wonderful happy birthday to the amazing @aroseforyoongi​ !!! thank you so much for being the most wonderful mom to @thebtswritersclub​ and for all the fun times we have had! I wish you the best of birthdays, even if this fic is sort of revenge for breaking my heart so many times with your writing. also I definitely didn’t get the wrong date for your birthday and bash this out in a day... nooo (I did absolutely do this so please ignore any errors, I have not proofread)

The sound of yelling accompanied the thunder of your feet down the stairs.

It wasn’t often that such a commotion was heard in your sleepy town, but what you had seen a moment ago from your window had you running immediately.

“Stay back!”

“Please, he’s wounded-“

“We mean no harm!”

“I’m sure you don’t sonny, now get away or I’ll shoot you! I’ll do it!”

Throwing open your front door, you raced towards the voices, alarmed at the rising volume. Rounding the corner as fast as you could, you spilled out into the square, a small group of people you didn’t recognise crowded by the old gate. Long since abandoned, it was swamped in ivy, tendrils of which blew into their faces as three townsfolk pushed them back.

Your eyes widened on seeing Cribbons, the eldest man in the village, brandishing a rusting pistol at the strangers.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” one of the strangers stepped forwards, the warning in his voice as clear as his hand began unsheathing a sword from his belt.

Gasping, you dashed across the remaining distance between you and the group.

“What’s going on?” you exclaimed, coming to a stop directly between the two parties.

Eyeing the new people, you saw them do the same, wary of you. But before either of you could speak, Cribbons was talking.

“They came in from the forest!”

Looking between both parties, you could only gape.

“They- that’s not possible,” you shook your head.

“It’s true, we all saw it!” Cribbons snarled, “we’re just trying to send them back where they came from.”

Frown deepening, you cast your eyes over the group that had appeared, apparently from Midbleak forest. Now you were closer, you could see one of them was seated, slumping against the crumbling gatepost. Their hands clutched at their leg, which you were shocked to see bleeding profusely.

Another stranger was supporting them, and now looked around at you.

Drawing in a breath, you found yourself unable to look away from the man, his large eyes beseeching you. Strikingly handsome, he rose to his feet to address you with a small bow.

“Please,” he spoke, “we are all in need of rest. And somewhere for my friend to heal. We mean you and your town no harm.”

Silence reigned and you realised each person was awaiting and answer from you. As the town’s apothecary, you technically had some level of authority, but it was never usually necessary to gather respect given the (usually) peaceful nature of your dwelling.

For now, though, you were grateful for your position, and turned to the new arrivals.

“I apologise for the behaviour of the townspeople,” you began with a sideways glance at Cribbons, “and welcome you to Midbleak. We are not… accustomed to having visitors. But I can make space for you, if you follow me.”

Bowing again, the man thanked you. Quickly turning to aid his friend who still leaned heavily against him, your eyes never strayed from his form until another of the party blocked your view.

“Thank you for your kindness,” he smiled, dimples showing.

“Don’t mention it,” you returned the smile, “we best get moving.”

A crowd had gathered, unsurprising given that nothing of note ever happened here. Ushering the newcomers away, you did your best to shield them from the staring eyes looking on from every window.

Once inside, you allowed the group to settle in your front room. There were seven of them, meaning most had to seat themselves at various places on the floor or your windowsills, in any space not occupied by your herbs or potions. Since you lived alone, you had never prepared for this much company.

The injured man, introduced to you as Taehyung, was granted the entire settee. Disappearing to your supply larder, you tried not to think of the bloodstains you would have to wash off later.

Returning with bandages and ointment, you realised you hadn’t offered them anything to eat or drink. It had been such a long time since you had entertained others that the manners your brother always taught you had almost slipped your mind.

“I’m so sorry,” you garbled, depositing your armful of supplies beside the settee, “would any of you like tea? Or, um, I’m sure I could find something to eat-“

“You’ve done enough,” a hand rested on your shoulder, bringing your attention to the man who spoke to you earlier. “Allow me to make some tea, if you have it, but our Taehyungie needs you most right now.”

“Of course,” you hastily agreed, and set to work.

Directing the man to your stove, you made quick work of patching up Taehyung. It wasn’t often you had to deal with ailments more severe than a sprained muscle, but wounds like this were something you could never forget.

Before you knew it, a warm mug was being pressed into your hands. Taehyung had fallen asleep, but on looking around, you found all the others gratefully drinking as well.

“Thank you…” you trailed off.

“Seokjin,” he prompted, “Kim Seokjin.”

“Thank you, Seokjin,” you smiled as he settled beside you, “my name’s Y/N, by the way.”

“This tea is great,” another spoke.

Thanking him, you explained that you grew all your ingredients yourself.

“Do you… do you think we might be able to take some with us?”

The man who spoke was the same who threatened to draw his sword in the square, and you frowned.

“Jungkook,” Seokjin scolded from beside you, “we’ll buy it off them at a fair price, given what they’ve done for us.”

“S-sorry,” you interjected, “but what to you mean ‘to take with you’? You’re not… going somewhere?”

“We’ll stay here for as long as we need to rest and for Tae to heal,” the dimpled man told you, “but then we will be leaving.”

You stared in horror.

“…leaving?”

“Yes, you see, we were on our way across the forest when we got delayed,” Seokjin explained, “we got lost and ended up here. So as soon as we can, we’ll try to find our original path.”

“But-but,” you spluttered, “no one leaves here! You can’t!”

“We have to,” Jungkook’s voice was terse.

“No one goes into the forest,” you matched his tone, a warning.

“Calm down, Kook,” the boy beside him held up a hand, then turned to you with a tilt of his head. “Why does no one go into the forest?”

“No one ever comes back.”

“We managed to get in, didn’t we?” one of the others argued.

“And that’s exactly why the people here are afraid of you,” you countered, “but it’s not like you came out unscathed.”

Mulling over your words, you saw defeat paint his features. The dimpled man spoke instead.

“We might be able to help.”

“Help?” you raised your eyebrows.

“Yes. I’m Kim Namjoon, and my party have had many successes against beasts, demons, and all sorts. I’m sure we can figure out what has happened to your town, and free you.”

In your cup, the liquid rippled slightly as your hands trembled around it. Slowly, you began to shake your head, the motion soon becoming vehement.

“No.” you said firmly, “you don’t understand-“

Your feet were already beneath you, taking you further from this group of delusional adventurers. In the doorway, you stopped, eyeing them fearfully for a second.

“No one goes into the woods.”

You turned on your heel, feet pounding up the stairs until your bedroom door slammed behind you.

Forcing yourself to lower your hands from where they raked over your scalp, you ceased your pacing. As you stood, sucking in deep breaths in some futile attempt to calm yourself, your eyes finally came to rest on your nightstand.

Your steps forward were softer now. You weren’t conscious of the sad smile that slipped onto your lips as your fingers came to caress the small vase of flowers that always stood there. Their petals were soft against the pads of your fingertips, but still firm with life.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat.

Letting your hand fall, you sunk onto your bed. Perhaps you should try to think of a way to tell the party downstairs to forget their death wish, or to get out.

Then again, why should you care if they want to go and get themselves killed? They only just turned up, and you had no obligation to them.

A gentle rap at the door lulled you from your reverie. Turning, you called for whoever-it-was to enter. You weren’t sure who you could expect, but of all the group, it was a relief to see that Jin was on the other side of the door.

Pushing it open cautiously, he only trod a couple of steps into the room. His eyes fixed on you where you sat with your back to him, not bothering to get up and instead only glancing over your shoulder.

Briefly smiling, he bobbed his head in a bow before speaking.

“Are you alright?”

Hi voice was as soft as his words, taking you somewhat by surprise.

“Where are the others?” you deflected.

“Most of them have gone to get supplies from the town. Taehyung’s still sleeping. I came to check if you were okay,” he pressed.

“Yes. Thank you,” you turned your eyes back to the floor in front of you, “I-I just- a lot has happened – you lot turn up, and now there’s talk of the… the woods…”

“I understand.” You heard the creaking of your floorboards, soon feeling the bed dip beside you, the warmth of his body very close. “Or at least, I can try to. I don’t mean to worry you… if you want us to leave, I’ll get the others to comply.”

“I appreciate it,” you sighed, then throwing your hands out in frustration, “but your friend still isn’t well. Where else can your group of idiots go if not into the death-trap outside the gates?”

Laughter beside you made you look around. His laugh wasn’t elegant, but it was full of joy and left it impossible for you not to chuckle with him.

When he calmed down, he looked back at you. The proximity startled you; even with splotches of red on his face post-laughter, you were struck again by his beauty. Light creases still resided by his brilliant eyes as he held your gaze.

“I won’t argue with that description of us,” he smirked, “but I really think we can help. I know whatever is out there must be scary, if it’s stopped anyone leaving this place. But we only want to help you. Is there nothing you miss from the outside?”

Unconsciously, your eyes slid to the flowers standing proud on your dresser.

“I don’t even remember what lies beyond the woods,” you confessed.

“Then wouldn’t you like to see?”

A look back showed Jin still staring at you with hopeful eyes that cracked your heart a little bit.

“We shouldn’t hope like this,” you smiled apologetically, “it’s just too risky.”

Dropping it for now, he grimaced slightly. Your heart ached even at the small sign of hurt on his face. Before you could say anything, however, he was swiftly moving on.

“But we can stay with you?”

“Yes,” you agreed, “I don’t have too much space, but you can fit three of four in here, and the others should be alright downstairs.”

“We’re much obliged,” he smiled, and you couldn’t get enough of the happy creases forming by his eyes. “But what about you? I wouldn’t like to deprive you of a place to sleep.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, “there’s one more room I can use.”

Jin was the perfect gentleman, helping you set out the space before returning downstairs. Without even asking, he was preparing tea, insisting it was the least he could do. And as the others returned with jokes on their lips and hands full of things they had bought, you saw the way he laughed with them like they were brothers.

You found you didn’t mind having them there so much, after all. Even when they grumbled or snapped, it was never long before they fell back into familiar banter, and it was like having a family again.

For a few days, a sort of routine was established. Namjoon always hoped to gather ‘information’ on whatever evil was surrounding your town. Some went with him, others went to the gate.

Taehyung was soon well again, although you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. His regaining health was proving injurious to you, given the stress he caused. If he was still struck down, Jin wouldn’t have to fret over him so many times as he wandered stubbornly into the woods, always to become lost and end up back in the town.

But you couldn’t deny that life was certainly more lively.

One constant, however, was Seokjin. He went out the least, electing to stay and help you. It became something you looked forward to: the house emptying of others so you could drink tea and talk, or take him on small tours around your favourite parts of town.

It was pleasing to see the villagers become a little more accustomed to the new additions, too.

“You look so happy these days,” the baker told you as Jin picked out his favourite bread somewhere behind you.

At the time, you merely blushed as you thanked your friend, but on the short journey home, you realised it was true. Jin was rambling on about the time Jungkook had taken an axe to a waterfall that annoyed him once, another story of outside the woods to bring a grin to your face.

Pushing open the door for you back home, Jin held it open for you to go first. But just as you crossed the threshold, words met your ears that took your smile away in an instant.

“We’re thinking of going tomorrow.”

Whirling around, you stared in disbelief. Jin shuffled his feet, reluctant to meet your eye.

“You’re still thinking about going into those woods?” you exclaimed, incredulous.

“Yes…” he cocked his head, looking away, “we have to keep moving.”

Torn between stepping towards him or backing away, you stayed rooted to your spot.

“But… don’t you like it here? Are you not happy?”

When he looked up, his big eyes stole the breath from you. Behind a watery coating that welled up there, he looked so wounded. But, pressing his lips together, a corner dared to lift into a hopeful smile.

“…come with us?”

You inhaled sharply.

“No,” you shook your head firmly, “can’t you just stay here?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he pleaded, “but if the others are going, so am I. They’re my brothers.”

“You’ll never make it out alive!” you raised your voice, breathing heavily. But all that was betrayed by the way your voice overflowed and cracked, tears springing to your eyes that you blinked away.

“Don’t be like this, please,” he was calmer, stepping forwards and reaching out a hand…

It drew towards you and you so desperately wanted to take it, to fling yourself into his arms and feel him safe around you- but he was still leaving. You couldn’t change his mind. And if he was leaving you couldn’t allow him to take your heart with him.

You shied back, flinching from his hand. In turn, Jin froze, staring at you with such pain in his eyes that you couldn’t bear to look – and so you didn’t.

Turning away, you fled up the stairs.

“Y/N!” he called from behind you.

Hurriedly depositing the bags on your table, he dashed to follow you, reaching the room you had been sleeping in just as the door swung shut in his face. He had never been in there, but didn’t think twice about pushing the door open to get to you.

Calling your name again, he could barely blink before your teary face was in view, close as you tried to push the door closed again.

“Leave!” you begged, trying to inject as much venom into your wavering voice as you could.

“Y/N, please, I don’t want to go like this-“ Jin struggled to say, to make himself heard as you pushed the door back, “I want you to come with me! I don’t want to leave you behind, goddammit, because I don’t want to be without you! I love you!”

Ceasing in your every move as his words sunk in, your trembling frame pressed against the door. Closing your eyes, your face screwed up as juddery breaths left you. You could practically feel your heart shattering while he waited in silence for any response.

“Get out,” your voice was low, not daring to be louder.

Through the small crack remaining between the door and its frame, Jin watched you but didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, “I shouldn’t- if you don’t feel the same-“

Casting your eyes heavenwards, you tried to form words, anything that would explain to him what was running through your head.

“No, Jin-“ you interjected, “I do! I do feel the same, I-I… that’s why I would rather you go.”

“But, Y/N,” he frowned, “if you love me, then let’s go! We can see the world together, we can do all the things I’ve been telling you about.”

“No,” you finally found your voice firmer, “because I l- because of how I feel, I don’t want to see you go into those woods. I don’t want to lose you.”

A beat as he sighed.

“I have to go… these boys are my brothers. Do you know how it feels, to have a family? Whether by blood or not, that is important. Can’t you understand that?”

For the first time, you finally raised your eyes to meet his, exhaling shakily.

“I know what it feels like to have a family…” your voice was quiet as you tried to spit the words out, “and so I know how it feels when that is all lost. If you go into that forest, you’ll watch them die. If you love them as much as you say, you wouldn’t let them go there.”

“Because I love them, that’s why I have to go with them,” he insisted, “I’ll be beside them and I won’t let them die. If anything comes for them, I’ll be in its way.”

“So your mind is made up,” you whispered with a small nod, “then why are you still here?”

After a brief pause, you felt a small push against the door instead of a response.

“Won’t you let me in?” he asked softly.

Resolve crumbling, you finally stepped back. As the door fell open without resistance, you sucked in a breath and held it, watching as he finally laid eyes on the space.

Around him, he could barely see the walls through the greenery erupting at every corner. But these couldn’t be plants for your apothecary – he would recognise those. No, these looked to be just for decoration.

Dotted around the foliage, from the leafy stems at the sides to the smaller pots lining every surface, were flowers of all kinds. Just like the ones in the vase in your room, that had never moved even now that four boys were sleeping there.

While his head turned this way and that, taking in the multitude of plants, his mouth formed words never spoken, unsure what to say. In the end, he settled for-

“What is this?”

Finally meeting your eyes, he awaited your explanation.

“This… was my brother’s room,” you spread your arms out, indicating the space as you continued, voice flat and dejected, “he loved flowers. He would always bring some back to me when he went out to the forest… He was one of the people who tried to defend the forest. Since people started going missing, all the men of the town joined together to try and defeat whatever foe was troubling us…

“But then the same thing happened to them. He was so eager to protect us, have an adventure… and so confident. And of course, he was my older brother, so I believed him. On the day he left, he gave me that vase of flowers, and told me to wait for him at dinner. Only, they never returned. A handful made it back, terrified and telling about how they fought but were defeated, and they had no choice but to run. No one dared collect the bodies, or…”

Your breathing shuddered, throat constricting as you spoke, but only now did a sob cut you off.

Instantly beside you, Jin’s arms circled you without hesitation, pulling you to his chest. You couldn’t resist if you tried, falling into them as you collected yourself.

“Shh, I’m so sorry,” he was muttering into your hair, pressing small kisses there between his comfort, “I’m sorry, I’m here, it’s okay.”

Bringing your arms around his middle in return, you held him fiercely.

At last, when you were able to draw a breath, you pulled your face away to look him in the eye.

“Come with me,” you said. Before he could question, you were grabbing his hand, leading him resolutely to the back corner of the room. As you got closer, however, it became clear it went further then he could initially see.

“This,” you sniffed, still wiping at your eyes, “is my teleportation circle. You can come here anytime-“

Dropping his hand, you walked forwards, crouching to wipe dust from the surface so the sigils around the edge could be clearly read.

“-I haven’t used it in some time. It doesn’t function between here and outside the woods, so I’m not sure if it will even help…”

Trailing off, you turned to find him watching you fondly.

“You have to be safe,” you said.

“I will be.”

Despite the darkness around you, your eyes were wide open. You should be asleep, you knew that much, but they certainly weren’t considering closing any time soon.

Jin may have told you to take care as his friends waited at the door, leaving you with one last (and your first) kiss.

It was partly that moment keeping you up; if you closed your eyes, maybe the night wouldn’t disappear from your grasp and wake you up further in time from Jin and his perfect smile, with your memory of his pillowy lips moulding to yours just right fading. No, you wanted this to live in your head for as long as you could, dedicating the still of night to replaying the moment, wishing for it not to just be in your head anymore.

Jin promised he would be alright. He promised to come back, but your little faith had not backed off. It was too late for you to save your poor heart, however, and that was mostly why you had yet to fall into the clutches of slumber.

Somewhere out there in the woods right now, Jin was probably lost, possibly fighting.

Tossing your body over, you looked out into the room, rows of plants and flowers barely discernible in the pitch black. You had remained in your brother’s old room, unable to face the emptiness of your own which was so recently filled with life.

But though you refused to let yourself cling to any stupid, childish hope, there was clearly still a child within you as your thoughts flitted unbidden to Jin’s face, the way he would smile when he saw you again.

Your sleep-deprived mind could only fight off that child for so long.

That child, that had believed your brother’s bold confidence. That had dreamed of fighting too. You had wailed and complained that day, wanting to go with him, inspired with the same flame as him to fight for your town.

But that fire was snuffed out with him.

Still staring ahead, only the empty room greeted you. The house was too quiet. Over the past week or so, the boys had been courteous and tried to be silent at night, but at the very least there was always some giggling, some whispers or floorboards creaking as they probably snuck out to pilfer some snacks.

At least you had known you were not alone.

But you had been by yourself for so long, why did it taste so bitter now?

Just as you were longing for some activity in your barren house, a sound startled you. Jerking upright immediately, you were instantly aware how close the sound was, a sort of whooshing that is soon joined by a flaring light.

Scrambling from beneath your covers, you threw your hands up to shield your eyes that have been in darkness for some hours.

“Y/N?”

The call echoed through the entire house, even though you were in the same room. You were sure you must be dreaming. That’s Jin’s voice.

Dropping your arms, your eyes searched the space in a second.

Sure enough, there he is.

Your mouth hung open, a gasping mix between a sob and a laugh escaping as he rushed over to you from your teleportation circle in the corner.

“Jin?” you dared to smile as he approached.

But then you saw his face.

“Do you have healing potions?” he asked, voice raw with desperation, “we need medicine, a-and bandages, and anything you have-“

Nodding, you instantly complied, not needing to question his motive. Grasping his hand (and oh god it’s real and he’s still alive and with you-) you dashed down the stairwell, hurrying to gather supplies with him hot on your tail.

“What’s going on?” you panted as you raced back up the stairs, arms full, “what did you find?”

Kicking the door open none too gently, Jin spared you a glance.

“It’s a beholder. It’s clearly been ravaging your forest for a long time now, and it’s powerful. I’m sure that’s what’s blocking any magical connection with the outside, too.”

You had read about beholders somewhere before. Magical monsters with too many eyes, destroying all but the most powerful in its path. That was surely not something the party would dare to face.

“So you’re coming back?”

“No,” he stopped, right outside your circle, to look at you, “we got away, but most of us are hurt. Now we know what it is, if we track it down again, we can put a stop to this.”

How a grin adorned his face, you had no idea. His friends were in the middle of danger, on the verge of death, and he still had hope.

“That’s…”

You didn’t know what it was.

Your town, free? It was beyond your imagination. Of course it was what you all dreamed of, but never dared to believe could come true.

Taking a deep breath, your eyes travelled from the man in front of you to the flowers surrounding you here.

You stood a little taller.

“I’ll come with you.”

Jin’s eyes bulged, freezing as he stepped into the circle.

“What?”

“I said I’ll come with you,” you repeated, stepping right in after him, “it’s time to stand up for my village.”

A full-watt grin broke onto his face then, and if it wasn’t for the supplies filling his arms, he would have swept you into them. Instead, he settled for surging forwards, lips pressing eagerly into yours.

Eyes sliding closed, your heart took off in somersaults as the moment you had never thought you would see again repeated, his soft lips calming any nerves with the fire it lit up in you. Too soon, he was pulling back, and you chased after him for one last peck.

Giddy smiles on your faces despite the minefield you were heading into, you broke apart at last.

Around you, the circle burst into life. Shooting from the floor, light cut through your vision, soon engulfing you as the distantly familiar feeling of the world shifting around you took over your being.

Once it settled again, light retracting back into the earth at your feet, the world was dark once more. This time, though, the darkness was more encompassing, thick tree trunks standing between the forest floor and the moon, uncompromising.

A smaller light emerged, blinking into life above your head.

Looking around, you caught the tail end of Jin muttering another incantation, before he and the light were moving forwards into the forest.

Treading in his wake, your head never stayed still, searching the darkness around you constantly as you wove through the trees. Every time Jin disappeared behind one, you would scurry to keep up, heart accelerating in your chest as the darkness encroached again.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before you reached another light between the trees, hovering above the familiar group of men.

Jin was already on the ground, tending to Jimin, so you followed his lead and headed for Jungkook. On your way, you handed some bottles to Yoongi, kneeling beside Namjoon. All of them looked worn-out, slumped against the coarse bark with bruises blooming on exposed skin.

Jungkook was unusually quiet, eyelids drooping as you crouched beside him. A gash was bleeding along his collarbone. Dabbing at it, you shook him gently, instructing him to down one of your potions as soon as he seemed alert enough.

It seemed to revive him somewhat, although this had the unfortunate effect that he was more alert to the pain as you patched him up.

But you were experienced, and it was quick work. Soon enough you were also sitting back, looking around the party. They seemed a little more at ease now. You were happy you were able to help them. Even from such a short time around these men, you had grown attached, and now you were sure they could be a family, just as Jin had told you.

“We’ll take a few hours,” Namjoon was telling everyone, “then we’ll go and hunt for that thing again. This time we’ll be more prepared.”

Agreeing, everyone began to settle down. Making his way over to you, Jin eased himself to the floor too, making your heart soar as he tucked himself behind you, arms circling you from behind.

Closing his eyes peacefully, he tucked his chin over your shoulder, muttering against your neck.

“I’m glad you came. You’re so brave.”

“Oh, shush,” you sank back into his arms.

Barely a moment later, though, and he was stiffening, sitting upright behind you. His arms dropped from their place, head lifting away from you.

“Hey,” you groaned from the loss of comfort, only to be hushed.

“No, really, shush,” he hissed at your affronted look, eyes already far away, scanning the trees.

Turning your attention to the forest yourself, you heard what must have frightened him. Not too far away, a splintering ricocheted through the trees.

“Hey, guys,” Jin’s voice carried through the secluded space easily, but just as a few heads perked up, the cracking sound swelled in a deafening crescendo, culminating in a resounding thud.

Jin was on his feet, and he wasn’t the only one.

“It’s here,” Namjoon’s voice was bracing.

Rising to stand as well, your eyes traced the path of a light sent up by Jimin. Ascending through the trees, blinking as it crossed branches, eventually a silhouette made itself known.

That was certainly no tree.

Another cacophony announced the falling of a second tree as the shape advanced further into the pool of light, seizing the breath in your lungs. The creature didn’t even touch the ground, hovering instead as it bulldozered any tree standing in its path.

Scattering, you followed Jin through the trees to avoid its advance, but you could never escape its gaze. Worse than anything you could imagine just reading about this monster, it had eyes protruding from its sickening mass of a body, which also held a grotesquely large eye above a gaping mouth of fangs.

“We discussed a plan,” Jin hissed in your ear as he positioned himself in front of you, hands already balling in front of him, a light forming within as he prepared to attack, “we’ll hit it long enough for Jungkook and Taehyung to get close. They’re the best warriors, and they can chop off some of the eyes. It gets weak quickly, so we just have to stay alive and buy as much time as we can.”

Nodding quickly, you also readied a spell.

The first beam of light shot through the night from between trees somewhere on the beast’s other side. It spun, furious roar gargling from its belly, but Jin had already shot from beside you.

Reeling from the fire that struck it, the awful mass of eyes flailed, and another cry was drawn just after you caught sight of a shadow below the beast, a glint of metal slicing through the air.

“Nice,” Jin muttered, darting behind the trunk of a tree.

For once, you didn’t follow. Stepping resolutely into the space, face set, you raised your hands, light firing from your palms in bursts. It had been a while since you practised magic this way, but you had no time to doubt yourself before the creature was bellowing again, turning your way-

Ducking behind a tree, your eyes met Seokjin’s where he stood pressed against the next one.

You couldn’t help the grin bursting onto your face, mirrored by his own.

Behind you, the night lit up with flashes that bathed the trees around you, illuminating the deep blackness. A shadow with too many limbs writhed among the branches, mingled with loud and angry roars.

The monster began to retreat.

Already missing several eyes, thick blood sliding down its body, it sent out a blast of its own. Above you, the tree branches ignited, crashing down in flames just as your feet raced away, jumping over thick tree roots.

“Let’s get on the other side of it,” Jin urged, an arm finding its way around your back as you darted together through the undergrowth.

Still running, he sent another bolt flying towards the beast, knocking it into a large tree which creaked, slowly beginning to topple to the forest floor.

In panic, your eyes searched the ground around it as your feet came to a stop in what had become a clearing due to the fallen trees. The others seemed unscathed from this distance, all of them racing to join you, surrounding the monster.

Before the beast could act, you were firing again. Barely hitting as you caught your breath from your previous sprint, you caught it nonetheless, giving enough space for Taehyung to lunge forwards again, taking a leap and succeeding in hacking off an eye.

Wincing, you flinched back from the appendage as it crashed to the ground, but a whoosh of magic was already being fired again, fight still not ceasing.

As it weakened, though, the monster was becoming more enraged. Growling, it lashed out, colossal teeth gnashing towards the fighter who had just robbed it of an eye. Tripping over a gnarled root, Taehyung was inches from the clash of the beast’s teeth as he fell, but soon the thing was spinning again.

With horror, you found the target it had selected next. Apparently Jungkook had seen a way in when the creature was diverted, but as his sword raised, the eye in question swivelled to focus directly on him.

Eyes widening, you saw the beast rear back in slow-motion, preparing its attack but your feet were glued to the ground, rendering you helpless as the split second played out like an hour in front of you, magic sparking and fizzling through the air towards the youngest-

“Jungkook!”

It wasn’t until the cry met your ears that you realised Jin had left your side, speeding across the clearing.

Then time hit you like a train, every moment rushing by in a blink as you cried Jin’s name, raising your hand on instinct, summoning your magic without a thought.

Nothing happened.

Blinking in surprise, you looked at your hand, feeling the magic flow towards it and… stop.

A faint glow surrounded you, emanating from the beast’s eye, holding you still, keeping your magic captive within you as you watched Jin jump at his younger brother-

The bolt of magic sliced through the air. Jin was in front of Jungkook. The blow cut the darkness, driving straight into his chest, both men flung backwards from the impact.

Movement.

You saw it as the glow finally released you, too late. Stumbling forwards, your feet had to remind themselves how to move but then they were overtaking each other in haste until you crashed to your knees at Jin’s side.

The movement had been Jungkook.

He fought his way from underneath Jin, who merely flopped to the side.

“Jin!” your voice came out an unstable cry, alien to your ears. Jungkook beside you was frozen, watching as you tugged his friend, his brother over onto his back, only to be met with an unseeing face.

No response.

Shaking him, desperate, raw pleas falling over and over from your lips, you already knew it was too late. The blazing lights still flashing through the night only lit up paling skin, your hands as they searched his neck for the steady pulse of life that it never found.

Tears burned down your cheeks long before you were even aware of them.

And then they were soaking, breath refusing to enter your lungs as you gasped, hands now surrounding you, the night still. That cool light Jimin cast earlier was the only thing hanging over the scene as the boys gathered round.

Taehyung sheathed his bloody sword, the giant forgotten where it lay on the ground somewhere behind you.

All you could see was Jin’s face. He did what he said he would do: get in the way of that monster and his brothers.

The boys held each other. They even held you, although it was not the same. Just a hand on your shoulder, a pat on your back.

You could go with them.

You went back to your town.

The house was empty again, and your kitchen began to fill with tea, just as the room upstairs stacked with plants. You made Jin’s favourite mixtures, and they sold well.

You never drank them.

Your house was still again. The darkness was never alive. You were alone.

And no matter how hard you wished, you would never conjure the feeling of his lips on yours. He would never turn up just as you needed him.

The circle in your brother’s room gathered dust again.

People flooded from the village, his name on their lips, their saviour.

You would walk to the gates often. Sometimes you strayed into the woods. You cared for the fire he had reignited within you, wanting to keep him with you in some way.

But the baker didn’t think you looked happy anymore.

You sold your potions, accepted adventurers that came more often now, but you stayed out of their way. And at night, you would be encased by a glow as you kicked and screamed with magic frozen in your veins. You never did escape it.

Seven sets of eyes blinked at you from around the table. Their mouths hung open in something akin to horror.

Your face was split in an irresistible grin.

“…you actually killed me?”

A bubble of laughter finally rose, spilling from your lips at the sight of Seokjin’s enraged expression.

“That was traumatic,” Yoongi sat back in his chair as you calmed down from your laughter.

“But I was gonna spend my life with your npc!” Jin argued, hand slapping the tabletop, “or do you not want to be with me?”

“That’s probably why she had to kill you, hyung,” Jimin hid a giggle behind his hand, “we already have enough members in this campaign.”

“Yah!” Jin spluttered, face reddening, “b-but, why kill me? And not them?”

“Rude!” you pressed a hand to your heart, pausing where you were shuffling away your pages of campaign notes. “Did you not have fun being my boyfriend, Jin?”

“Yeah, you seemed to be having great fun,” Taehyung smirked, jabbing at Jin with his elbow.

“Just say you want to date and go,” Namjoon agreed, shaking his head in exasperation.

Jin pouted, only eliciting more laughter from the group as he folded his arms.

“Shut it, you lot!” he complained.

Eventually, your friends were filing out of your house, thanking you between laughter for another good campaign and the promise to play again the same time next week. Only one lingered by your doorway.

“I can’t believe you really killed me off,” Jin spoke.

“Cut it out,” you chuckled, “I know you’ll miss being my lover terribly, but I’m sure you can manage.”

He eyed you as you kicked the living room door shut, joining him in the hall.

“Of course I will,” his lips quirked into a smug smile – unfortunately a very familiar look on your friend – “your loss.”

And with that tossed over his shoulder, he was stepping outside.

Shutting the door behind him, you listened to the sound of his engine beginning and rumbling away outside. A large breath left you.

He was right. You knew the real thing would be better, but you would take what you could get.

Your loss.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs always appreciated 💜

Again, to Eva, happy happy birthday!! In case you were interested, the prompts I was given were ‘dungeons and dragons’ (again haha) and ‘intelligent’, just like you! I love you lots and hope your day was great xx Also one last big thank you to @eternalseokjin​ for all the help with this, whether dnd related or just me ranting about the angst😅I appreciate it!

Taglist: @aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​ @kb-bangtanenthusiast​ @ttaechwita​ 

[softlass27]

an ibhfc version of emmerdale's first pride (plus another one in the future) to make up for this week's upcoming episodes with aaron and the village's resident kayaking creep

AO3 link here

Pride 2021

“Right, that’ll be £7.99, please.” Victoria pushed Aaron’s lunch towards him.

“Cheers.”

“Oh, almost forgot!” She grabbed a brightly-coloured collection tin that was sitting on the end of the counter. “We’re taking donations for the Pride festival if you’ve got any spare change?”

Aaron frowned. “What Pride festival?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear? Charles is organising it.”

“In the village?”

“Yeah, he says it’s mad that we’ve not had one before. Apparently it was always a big event at his last parish. He’s not wrong, really, it’s about time we did more than your mum sticking a bit of multi-coloured bunting up behind the pub each June.”

“Huh.”

“Think you’ll go? It’s next weekend.”

“I – ”

“From what Charles and Ethan said, it should be fun,” Vic spoke over him, hands waving animatedly. “There’s music, food and games, all sorts! It’s family-friendly too, so you can bring Seb. We can go together if you want? I was planning on meeting up with Matty and Amy but – ”

“Vic, stop for breath would ya?” Aaron huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I'm up for it.”

*

On the morning of the festival, Victoria let herself into Mulberry Cottage and cast an appraising look over Aaron. He shuffled uncomfortably.

“What?”

She gave a quick wave to Seb, who was sitting on the sofa, and looked Aaron up and down again. “That’s what you’re wearing, is it?”

He glanced down at his black t-shirt and jeans. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing! Except, well, it’s not very colourful is it?”

“You’ve known me, what, 13 years? When have you ever seen me do colourful?”

“But it’s Pride!”

“So?”

“Oh come on, you have to get into the spirit of it. Speaking of which – ” She rummaged in her oversized handbag and pulled out a small, light blue article of clothing, passing it over. “I saw this in town and I couldn’t resist.”

As Aaron unfolded it, he realised it was a child-sized pair of dungarees with a bright rainbow stitched across the chest. His mouth quirked upwards.

“Alright, that’s pretty cute.”

“I know, right? Should’ve got something for you too, you big grump.”

The retort Aaron was about to give her was cut off when he felt tug on his trousers and looked down to see Seb standing next to him.

“Is that for me?” He asked, looking at the dungarees with curiosity.

“Yep, Auntie Vic got them for you to wear to Pride today. What d’you say?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. You’d better hurry and get ready, though, or we’ll be late!”

Seb grabbed Aaron’s hand and started tugging him towards the stairs. “Daddy, come on!”

Although he was a little young to quite get what Pride was all about, he’d been full of beans about the whole thing ever since Aaron had told him they were going to a party, especially once he’d found out Isaac and Dotty would be there, too.

“Alright, let’s get you changed.” He looked back at Vic and rolled his eyes. “I’ll get changed, too.”

She grinned at him.

*

“Did you and Robert ever go to Pride?” Vic quietly asked as the four of them made their way to the field where the festival was being held, Seb in his new dungarees and Aaron in the one green t-shirt owned (“It’s a colour that’s on the flag, Vic, that’s as good as you’re getting.”)

“Nah.” Aaron shook his head. “Never got round to it. We used to talk about maybe going to the one in Leeds or something, but somethin’ always came up. Then we'd always say we’d go the next year but… ”

But we ran out of years.

“Yeah.” Vic’s face fell a little and she squeezed Aaron’s hand lightly. “But we’ll have a nice time, won’t we?”

“Daddy, there’s music!” Seb called from where he was walking just in front of them. They could indeed hear the sound of upbeat pop music blasting through a speaker as they got closer to the festival. “Hurry!”

“Coming, mate.” Aaron called after his retreating back, smiling at his enthusiasm. He sighed and squeezed Vic’s hand in return. “Yeah, we’ll have a good time.”

*

Considering Emmerdale’s tiny size, the village’s first Pride event had a pretty good turnout. The festival was full of so much colour and noise that Aaron ended up hoisting Seb up on his hip, slightly wary of losing track of him in among the chaos. The three of them wandered around for a while, taking in the party-like atmosphere and watching Charles and Ethan both make heartfelt speeches on the small stage that had been set up.

At some point Marlon called Victoria's name and she went over to catch up with him and April, leaving Aaron and Seb to carry on exploring alone. The little boy seemed to love it so far, taking in the sights and sounds with increasing delight.

“You wanna get your face painted? Aaron asked, pointing to a tent where Matty and Amy were emerging hand in hand, both of them covered in body paint.

Seb clapped his hands enthusiastically. “Yeah!”

They made their way inside and sat across from a girl who looked barely 20 and was covered head to toe in paint and glitter.

“Hello.” She smiled brightly at Seb, who predictably turned under the attention bashful and tucked himself against Aaron’s chest. She tilted her head down to catch his eye. “What’s your name?”

“Seb.”

“Nice to meet you, Seb, I’m Freya. Do you want some rainbows?”

Seb nodded shyly and sat as still as a three year-old could while she carefully painted a small pride flag on each of his cheeks, Aaron holding his waist to stop him from squirming too much under the tickle of the brush.

“There, all done.” She brandished her brush towards Aaron. “Are we doing your face as well?”

“Uh, no thanks.”

“Yes.” Seb smacked a palm on Aaron’s cheek enthusiastically. “Rainbows for you, too!”

Aaron sighed. The things he did for his son.

“Alright. Do your worst.”

When they emerged from the tent five minutes later and bumped into Vic again, her eyes lit up with glee.

“Aaron Dingle with glitter on his face.” She fumbled frantically for her phone. “Don’t move, I need a photo.”

“No, don’t – ”

“Moira!” Vic ignored him and called over his shoulder. “Both of them, can you believe it?”

Aaron turned around to see Moira coming towards them with Cain just behind her – Cain whose cheek was adorned with a rainbow flag identical to Aaron’s. He let out a snort that had Cain’s eyes narrowing dangerously at him.

“Not a word out of ya.”

“Wow, how’d they get you?”

“This one made me.” Cain gestured to Isaac, who dropped his hand to run towards Seb, the two of them immediately chasing each other in circles around the adults' legs.

“Come on, you two!” Moira was stood next to Vic, both their phones held up. “Smile!”

Neither of them smiled, but they let them take a couple of snaps.

“Perfect,” Moria smirked down at her screen and turned the phone so Aaron could see a photo of himself and Cain both with matching scowls and rainbows on their faces. “This one’s going on the fridge.”

*

“You have fun today?” Aaron asked Seb as he carried him home.

Seb’s arms were wrapped loosely around Aaron’s neck and he could barely keep his eyes open, exhausted like most of the other kids in the village. The daytime part of the festival was over, only the child-free people sticking around into the night to keep drinking and dancing.

“Mhm,” Seb hummed tiredly, head flopping around on Aaron’s shoulder. “C’n we do it again?”

“If they do another one next year, then yeah. We can go again.”

He unlocked the door to Mulberry Cottage one-handed, depositing Seb on the sofa and carefully easing his shoes off. He glanced at the photos on the mantlepiece, Robert’s smiling face looking back at him. Aaron straightened up and moved to stand in front of them, adjusting one of the frames slightly.

“Finally went to Pride,” he said quietly. “Can you believe it?”

Just wish you could’ve come with me.

****

Pride 2025

“Morning!” Vic let herself into Mulberry Cottage, Harry in tow. “Happy Pride.”

“Happy Pride!” Seb shouted back from where he was fiddling with Molly’s rainbow-coloured leash (a purchase he’d talked Aaron into making from one of the stalls the previous year).

“Hiya.” Aaron jogged down the stairs. “Thought you’d be goin' with Ryan this year. He’s got the girls, right?”

“Yeah, we're spending the day together but I told him that me and Harry would meet him there. Us lot always go to Pride together, I’m not breaking tradition now.” She gave Aaron’s blue jeans and red t-shirt an approving nod. “Wow, red and blue this year. Really pushing the boat out.”

“Shut up, you.”

“Where’s that brother of mine?”

“He was just dropping some stuff from the cafe off at the festival, cakes and sandwiches an’ that. Said he’d come back before we set off, though.”

“Well he’d better hurry himself up, I don’t wanna miss whoever Ethan’s got opening the festival this year. And it’s Robert's first one, we can’t be late!”

“Alright, keep your hair on.” Robert appeared in the doorway, nudging past her to come inside. “You can’t be late to a festival, Vic, they’re sort of all day things.”

“You get the food sorted alright?” Aaron asked, shoving his wallet and phone into his pockets.

“Yeah, Jimmy and Nicola are all set up. They’ve roped Angelica into helping out, poor kid.” Robert ruffled Harry's hair before grabbing a bottle of suncream from the coffee table and kneeling down in front of Seb. “Right, suncream on then we can go.”

“I can do it myself,” Seb protested, batting Robert’s hands away from his face.

“Hm. See, I believed you when you said that at the beach the other weekend and we ended up coming home with you looking like a lobster. Keep still.”

Seb sighed and let Robert rub suncream all over him with only a bit of squirming, giggling when Robert finished by poking him sharply in the ribs.

“Dad, not on my t-shirt!” He said, smoothing a protective hand over his new rainbow-striped top. “Don’t get it dirty.”

“Alright, you big fusspot,” Robert teased, kissing him on the head and rising to his feet.

“Leave him alone, you’re no better,” Vic said with a tut. “Right, come on. Chop chop!”

She opened the door to let both Seb and Harry run outside, following closely behind them. Aaron picked up Molly’s leash and held out a hand to Robert.

“Ready?”

Robert grinned and took it.

“Let’s do it.”

*

The thing about Charles and Ethan was, they always had to one-up themselves. Aaron had no idea how they did it, but every year they somehow managed to increase their budget enough to make Emmerdale Pride bigger and better until now, four years on, the first festival they held looked tiny in comparison. Huge crowds of people swarmed the village, taking in the countless stalls, games, music, drag acts and and live bands playing all day. There were even a few rides this year.

As they made their way through the madness, Aaron gave Robert a quick nudge.

“Okay?”

They were only in the village and they knew a lot of the people there, but there were still some days where Robert and large crowds didn’t mix well. Thankfully, it seemed that today wasn't one of those days, as Robert shot him a small smile and nodded.

“I’m good.”

“Dads!” Seb shouted, running back to tug both their hands. “Can we do the face-painting first?”

Robert let out a mock groan. “Do I have to?”

“If I’m not getting out of it, neither are you,” Aaron muttered.

“Doesn’t have to be rainbows,” Seb said to Robert, shrugging matter-of-factly. “You can get the bisexual colours if you want?”

Aaron watched Robert’s eyes widen ever-so slightly in surprise, before he nodded and let Seb lead him towards to the face-painting tent.

*

After a few hours of exploring and mingling with the other villagers, Aaron and Robert collapsed with a couple of pints at one of the picnic tables, both of them in need of a breather. They’d picked a spot in the shade, keeping half an eye on Seb playing with a group of other kids while they listened to the band currently playing on the stage. Molly drank from the bowl of water they’d put down on the grass for her, before jumping up into Robert’s lap.

After sitting in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Aaron took a long, cooling gulp of his pint and looked away from Seb to glance at Robert. His husband was absently stroking Molly, watching the festival with a slightly pensive look on his face that made Aaron’s brow furrow.

“You alright?”

Robert blinked and turned to look at him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“If you're tired, we can go home, y'know.”

Robert gave him a reassuring squeeze on the wrist. “I know. Honestly, it's nothing, just... ” He trailed off and stared once more at the festivities around them. “Could you ever have imagined anythin’ like this in the village when we were growing up?”

That was an easy question to answer.

“No.”

Aaron knew for a fact that the teenage version of him would have never imagined in his wildest dreams seeing the village transformed this way, decked out in bright colours, full of people like him, every resident open and accepting. And he knew the idea would’ve seemed even less likely when Robert was a teenager.

“Bet your dad’s rolling in his grave.”

Robert barked a surprised laugh. “Yeah, probably.”

They watched the party for another couple of minutes, then Robert nodded towards where Seb was tackling Dotty in an overly-enthusiastic game of tag.

“I’m glad that he gets to grow up in this version of the village,” he said softly. “Whether he turns out to be straight or gay or bi – whatever – I don’t want him to ever be scared of being different, like you an’ me were back in the day.”

“Don’t say ‘back in the day’, makes us sound ancient.”

“Well if you keep complaining about your back aching every time we – ”

“Oi!” Aaron gave his shoulder a punch, before trailing his hand down his arm to link their fingers together as they both watched Seb. “Yeah, me too. It is different for him, he knows he can be whoever he wants here. No one’s gonna have a go at him over who he does or doesn’t fancy. And he knows we love him no matter what.”

“Course he does.”

Robert grinned warmly at him and leaned across the table to press his lips to Aaron’s. The two of them kissed lazily until Molly jumped up between them to lick at both their chins and they broke away with a laugh.

“Can't go more than five minutes without needing attention, can you?” Robert pulled her back into his lap, scratching her behind the ears until she settled again. The pink, purple and blue stripes on his face were smudged from where Aaron’s thumb had just rubbed over his cheekbone.

“Sounds like someone I know.”

“Piss off.”

Aaron drained the last of his pint and put the glass to one side, resting his elbows on the table. “Good first Pride, then?”

“Great first Pride.” Robert quirked an eyebrow at him. “It’ll be even better if we carrying on celebrating at home. Y’know, once the kid’s in bed.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Think we've got a bottle of champers in the fridge; I say we crack that open, take it upstairs and then – ”

“Daddy!” Seb ran up to them, grabbing Aaron’s elbow with a pleading look in his eyes. “Can we go on the dodgems? Isaac says him and Uncle Cain are going on.”

Aaron groaned and stretched his arms over his head. “Right now?”

“Yeah, we have to get them!”

Aaron huffed a laugh and dropped his arms. “Well in that case.” He paused and turned to Robert. “Unless you’d rather have a go?”

Robert shook his head rapidly. “Nah, me and Molly are good here, we'll save the table. Go crash some cars, boy racer.”

“Come on, then.”

As they headed in the direction of the bumper cars, Aaron looked back to see Vic appearing at Robert’s side, looking a little tipsy as she sat down next to him. By the time they were standing in the queue for the ride with Cain and Isaac, he could see the Sugden siblings had been joined by Ryan and his girls, plus Diane and Harry, all of them piling onto the table and surrounding them. Robert was laughing at something Ryan was saying, eyes crinkling. When he saw Aaron watching, he shot him a small wave. He looked happy and content, and the sight of it made something warm settle in Aaron's chest.

It wasn't his first Pride, but it was the best one he'd had so far.

“Dad,” Seb piped up, grabbing his attention. “It's our turn”

“Alright, let’s show Cain and Isaac how it's done.”

[freaoscanlin]

In the Arms of an Aila

Fandom: High Rollers Aerois Campaign

Notes: Rated PG, 4438 words, trigger warnings for minor blood mentions. This is a Uni AU wherein the Storm Chasers are a group of students sharing a house on Stormchaser Avenue after their dormitory burns down. Shout out to @obishenshenobi for being amazing and co-writing this series with me!

Summary: Four times Aila carries the party, and one time they return the favor.

Read it on AO3

“Hey, Aila?” Nova said.

“What?”

“Just...thanks.”

“Very welcome. Just do your part and hold on. Sentry will get mad if I drop you.”

Nova

The blister set in somewhere between mile two and mile four. Since it was supposed to be a five mile hike, and a torrential downpour hit at the end of mile two, soaking them to the bone within minutes, a blister was the last thing Nova needed.

Of course, who really needed a blister? Rubbing an actual sore onto the skin as the first step on the way to a callus was an absolute stupid function of humanity, and human feet should not be designed this way. In fact, all humans were composed of stupid engineering. Her thighs burned, her lower back ached, she was muddy and cross and cold, and the pain rubbing along the back of her heel made her actually want to cry.

“We’ll get to the end soon.” Sentry kept a cheerful look in place. This whole hike had been her idea in the first place, and she’d led the pack all the way out to the waterfall. Which, admittedly, had been very pretty. On a sunny day it might have even been gorgeous. But Nova could feel her teeth chattering, and she must have looked miserable because Sentry had been making remarks like that for the past twenty minutes. “And then we’ll be in a nice warm car. And we’ll get some hot chocolate.”

“Coffee,” Nova managed to say through her chattering teeth.

“Or coffee. Sure. Coffee’s fine.”

Lucius, following behind Sentry without too much trouble, should have looked bedraggled and miserable. But he’d packed a fancy purple camping jacket for the adventure. Quill, trudging behind him, kept flicking a hand through his sopping hair and sending water droplets everywhere.

Aila, after the first time Nova had landed on her ass, had taken the rear. Every so often, she reached out to grab Nova and keep her from careening off the edge of the path.

“Let’s take a hike,” Nova muttered under her breath as she limped along. “It’s beautiful, Nova. You’ll love it, Nova. Just think of the pretty views, Nova. This is great. Just great.”

She stepped down and hissed in pain as her boot moved against the blister. Instantly, the three people ahead of her turned to look. “Are you okay?” Sentry asked, her brow furrowed.

“Fi—I’m fine. It’s just a blister. I’ll be fine.”

It took a great deal of reassurance that she would be fine in order for the others to believe her. They had less than a mile to go, soon they’d be in the car, she could grit her teeth through it. After a day of holding the group back to her pace—it wasn’t her fault she lived with a bunch of jocks who preferred the gym to the library—the idea of stopping just because her foot hurt made her burn with shame. So she waved away their protests and gamely set off.

For a couple hundred meters, at least. At that point she began to whimper.

Something rustled behind her, followed by a sigh. Aila grabbed her arm to stop her. “What? Was I about to fall?” Nova asked, looking down at the steep incline beside the little trail.

“Hop on.” Aila turned to face away from her, bending her knees just a little.

“What?”

“I’ll give you a piggy-back ride.”

“But it’s so far still.”

“You weigh less than a sack of potatoes. I’ll be fine. Hop on.”

The others, having missed all of this, continued on their way up the path. Nova glanced back toward them, wondering if she should just suck it up and run to catch up. The thought alone made her want to cry.

Red-faced and embarrassed, she climbed onto Aila’s back and wrapped her arms around Aila’s neck. The relief of being off her feet came instantly.

“Comfortable?” Aila asked.

“If I get too heavy—”

Aila snorted at that. “Please. This isn’t even a workout. Hey, Sentry, wait up!”

In no time at all, she caught up to the group, trotting along as though she wasn’t even burdened by Nova’s weight. Nova decided she’d feel embarrassed later, when she wasn’t so wrecked. Aila was big and sturdy and warm, and it was the first reprieve from misery she’d had in over an hour. Quill gave her a small smile of commiseration, letting out a “hey” when she tiredly reached out to muss his hair.

“Hey, Aila?” Nova said.

“What?”

“Just...thanks.”

“Very welcome. Just do your part and hold on. Sentry will get mad if I drop you.”

Nova rested her cheek against the back of Aila’s shoulder, watching the landscape go by around them, and obeyed.

Sentry

“And just what do you think you’re doing?”

Sentry, about to reach for the pantry door in the darkness, froze. A split-second after Aila’s voice rang out through the kitchen, the lights flooded on. Sentry didn’t need a highly active imagination to fully see the picture it painted: Aila by the switch in an ancient pair of joggers and one of the hundreds of tacky free T-shirts they handed out during orientation week. A massive gulf of space between the pantry and Sentry’s bedroom. And Sentry herself in her Tom Servo sleep tank and shorts, balanced on one foot to stay off of her bad knee, right by the pantry—with her crutches nowhere nearby.

“Ah, um, ah,” Sentry said, looking about for an excuse. Her shoulders sagged. “I just wanted a snack?”

“And you decided, ‘oh, I’ll just hop to it, then, will I?’”

Sentry spread her hands wide, sheepishly. “Yes?”

Aila’s expression could melt steel. “Even though you’ve got a perfectly good pair of crutches by your bed.”

She hated the crutches, yes, but in that moment Sentry decided she hated disappointing Aila more. Still, she pushed her shoulders back. “I’m allowed to put a little weight on it—”

“In two weeks! You’re supposed to stay off it for now, or you’ll make it worse.”

“I’m only getting a snack. That’s not that strenuous.”

“For somebody who mothers the rest of us when we’ve so much as got the sniffles, you’re a bad patient yourself.” Aila strode across the kitchen and before Sentry quite knew what was happening, scooped her up. Just as quickly—though a little more gently—Sentry was deposited into one of the kitchen chairs. “You could have called one of us to get you a snack if you hate the crutches so much.”

“You were all asleep, and you need your rest.”

“We need our Sentry in one piece more than we need rest.”

Aila stomped into the pantry. A bag of crisps sailed through the air, landing in front of Sentry on the table. Grumbling under her breath the whole time, Aila emerged and stormed about the kitchen, collecting a midnight snack for herself. Sentry angled a chair over to prop her recovering leg up, trusting that Aila would work through this head of steam eventually. At long last, Aila sat down across from her with a glass of water for each of them. She dug viciously into a yogurt.

“Feel better now that you’ve bitched me out?” Sentry asked, digging into the chips.

Aila considered. “A little, actually. Now I see why Nova does it all the time.”

Sentry saluted her with a crisp. “Glad to help. Thanks for getting these for me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You don’t need to keep me company if all you were coming down for was a glass of water or something, though. I don’t want to keep you up.”

“Sentry,” Aila said in a measured voice. “If I leave you there, you’ll just hop right back to bed. So I’m going to stay here until you’re finished and I’m going to eat my yogurt and then I’ll carry you back to bed, and we’ll not tell the others any of this ever happened because they’ll scold you.”

“That might be the most I’ve ever heard you speak,” Sentry said.

“Yeah, I’m a real chatty Cathy at this hour, apparently.” Aila nudged one of the glasses toward her. “Drink your water. It’s good for recovery.”

“Yes, Mom,” Sentry teased, and Aila rolled her eyes at her.

Lucius

Lucius saw the blood, had a brief eternity to think whoopsy, there I go, and when time returned to its normal course of business, fainted. Well, he went woozy, at any rate. He felt his knees buckle, but from afar like they weren’t his knees anymore, and his vision squeezed into one narrow point of blankness, and he staggered.

He slammed into something very solid, but warm like a person. “Oh, no, you don’t,” said a familiar voice in his ear.

“S-so much blood,” Lucius said, his voice sounding as far away as his knees.

The entire world seemed to tilt and a feeling of warmth suffused him, reminding him of the earliest days with Nanny Nophir. That changed abruptly, though, when he realized that instead of being cradled like a small child, somebody had slung him over a shoulder like a bag of cement. Not just anybody, he realized in a muddled storm of thought. Aila had him over one shoulder, bracing him with an arm behind his knees.

Muzzily, he twisted his head to see Sentry hurrying out of the kitchen and into the shared living room. “What’s happened?” she asked.

“Nova’s got a nosebleed,” Aila said. “His majesty still faints at the sight of blood, apparently.”

“Hey,” Lucius said feebly, as the dig felt a little unfair. He let his body hang limp, too wrung out to really protest beyond that. There had been so much blood...

“I’m so sorry,” Nova said, her voice muffled by either a towel or her hand. “Lucius, I’m so sorry, I forgot you don’t like blood. It’s just so dry—”

“Let’s just get you cleaned up,” Sentry said kindly, resting a hand on Lucius’s back as she passed. “Maybe put him on the couch?”

The last must have been directed at Aila, for she moved over and Lucius found himself being lowered onto the divan. They really should have gotten a proper fainting couch for the living room, even though it clashed with the rest of the furniture he’d hand-selected. Though the ultimate irony remained: if Aila hadn’t caught him, he wouldn’t have made it to said fainting couch anyway.

Lucius, feeling queasy, glanced over. He spotted the bloody towel that Nova had instinctively put over her face to staunch the blood, and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“Hey—hey!” Something snapped loudly in front of his face and Lucius opened his eyes. Aila snapped her fingers a few more times. “None of that now. Turn that way.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Lucius said, automatically obeying. “Good heavens. I could have cracked my head open on the coffee table if you hadn’t caught me.”

“Doubt it.” Aila snorted. “Hard as your head is, you’d have cracked the coffee table in half.”

“Oh really, do you think?” Lucius couldn’t help but be a little pleased at the thought. Having somebody like Aila think any part of him was tough—she’d certainly made enough jokes about lacrosse in their first days together—was quite exhilarating. He studiously kept his gaze focused on the back of the couch, deliberately not looking as Aila took the bloody towel out of the room and returned with bleach wipes. “Oh, I do hope she didn’t stain the carpet.”

“Eh,” Aila said. “I’ve gotten blood out of worse. Though I’ll let Nova clean up her textbook on her own. I’m nice but not that nice. It should be safe for you to look now.”

Lucius swallowed hard and sat up, rubbing his head. He’d come in to inquire of Nova, seated at the coffee table with a textbook and a soap opera on in the background for noise, if she wanted to perhaps grab a quick dinner with him before their evening class. And she’d turned to him in horror, blood leaking and...

Well, he’d prefer not to remember beyond that point. Instead, he resolutely turned his thoughts to more pressing matters (after all, Sentry was taking care of Nova, which meant she would be just fine). He cleared his throat. “Aila, I do have a question for you.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you think we should get a fainting couch in here? For the aesthetic?”

Aila stared at him for a long time, then turned on a heel and left without saying a word or even making a face at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lucius said, and began to set his mussed clothing to rights.

Quill

No matter how they jeered and teased, there was no getting Sentry into the water. Even the triple dog dare, which would have worked on Quill without fail, held no effect. She merely gazed at them serenely from her lakeside lounger, told them they were all very clever, and closed her eyes once more, returning to sunbathing.

“Boo,” Quill called, cupping his hand around his mouth. He tried to splash water in her direction, but Sentry had wisely set her chair out of range.

“Oh, quit bugging her,” Nova said from deeper in the lake where she was treading water in her cute old-fashioned swim suit. Even in the water, she hadn’t taken off the elbow-length glove she wore to cover the scars from her lab accident. “Let the woman get some sun away from our shenanigans.”

“I refuse to let my best friend be too much of a coward,” and Quill raised his voice over his shoulder as he swam toward Nova, “to swim in the lake!”

“Love you too, Quill,” Sentry called back without opening her eyes.

The sun did feel nice, admittedly. Their first day at the cabin—one of Lucius’s family’s many, many vacation properties—had been gray and cold and unpromising, but today the skies were clear and the air was warm. Donning a pair of swim trunks and cannon-balling off of the private dock was the only logical choice to be made, in Quill’s opinion. And the others had followed not far behind: Nova in her one-piece, Lucius in speedos that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and Aila in what Quill suspected just to be her underwear, as she hadn’t gone shopping for their vacation, even at Sentry and Nova’s urging. Sentry herself had donned a tankini but was staying far, far away from the water, having made it clear just how much she found the thought of parasites and other lakely dangers distressing.

Swimming wasn’t as easy as it had been before his accident, but Quill made it out to Nova and began to tread water beside her. She closed her eyes and tipped her face to the sun. “This feels so nice. I didn’t realize how much I needed a break. I had more than four hours of sleep last night, Quill. It felt like a miracle.”

“I may never go back,” Quill agreed. “Do you think Lucius would mind if we, like, just moved in permanently? There’s a bidet. Have you ever stayed in a place that had a bidet?”

“Can’t say that I have.” Nova turned. “Aila! Have you ever stayed in a place with a bidet?”

“When would I have done that?” came the reply. Aila didn’t even lift her head up from where she was floating on her back, eyes closed.

Lucius swam up, popped underwater, and emerged so that his hair flowed back in perfect waves. The sunlight caught very faint freckles on his shoulders. “I’ve been meaning to bring that up. It’s rather a travesty that we don’t have one at home. We could have one installed quite easily.”

“Eh,” Aila said, eyes still closed. “Feels bougie.”

“How dare you,” Lucius said.

Aila merely opened one eye a slit and smirked at him. Lucius, after a moment of grumpiness, smiled back.

“Did we bring a football or anything?” Nova twirled herself around in the water like a spinning top. “Or some kind of water game we could play? Not that I don’t love swimming.”

“We could play Chicken,” Quill said. When the other three merely gave him varying glances of confusion or interest (or disinterest on Aila’s part), he tilted his head. “Did none of you ever play Chicken as kids?”

“The thing where you dart out in front of cars and stay there until they almost hit you?” Nova asked.

“No, the bit where one person gets up on somebody’s shoulders and tries to knock another person—on somebody else’s shoulders—over into the water. Here, here, I’ll show you. It’s fun.” Quill glanced between the three of them and did some quick calculus that he would never, ever tell anybody else about. “Here, Aila, let me up on your shoulders.”

Aila kept floating for a few seconds more before she seemed to shrug to herself. “Eh. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Left to his own devices, Quill was positive that he would have made it awkward to clamber up on Aila’s shoulders. But he’d forgotten just how strong rugby made Aila, and how often she went swimming. As they approached the shallower depths, she disappeared under the water. Quill felt something almost hit him from behind, and then he was launched toward the sky. He yelped and clung on for dear life as Aila straightened to her full height, the water coming up to her shoulders.

“Ooh! Ooh! I want to try. Lucius, let me up.” Nova scrambled over to Lucius and climbed up on his shoulders, kicking her feet excitedly (Lucius winced a little). She held her arms up like an old timey boxer. “You’re going into the water, bird-boy.”

“Hey, now,” Aila said. “Let’s make this fair. One hand behind your back.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, Quill.”

“I don’t need two hands to beat you,” Quill said, though he nearly disproved his entire point by overbalancing and almost falling off of Aila’s shoulders.

She merely locked her hands around his knees. Nova put her scarred hand behind her and waggled the fingers of her remaining hand at Quill.

“Oi!” A voice from the shore made all of them turn to look at Sentry, who’d sat up and set her book aside. “What are you doing? That looks dangerous!”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Lucius called back. “Aila and I have it all in hand.”

Sentry hovered on the edge of the lounger like she wasn’t entirely sure she believed that. “Well, just—just be careful.”

Quill used the distraction to lean over, scoop up a handful of water, and fling it in Nova’s direction.

“Hey!”

And just like that, the battle commenced. Aila charged forward with Quill holding on, Lucius did the same with Nova, and a wrestling match for the ages followed. Nobody would ever come up with a consensus on who actually hit the water first, though. Lucius swore it was Quill, Nova agreed, Quill argued vehemently that it was of course Nova, and Aila remained the neutral party, content to be the base for many, many games of Chicken afterward.

And Sentry remained on the shore, pretending she wasn’t keeping a close eye on them for injury and doing a horrible job at hiding it.

All in all, a pretty perfect summer morning, if you asked Quill.

+ 1 Time They Carried Her

“Sign up for survivalist camp, she says. It’ll be fun, she says. We’ll learn cool new techniques to surviving in the wild. Great bonding time!”

“To be fair,” Nova said from behind Aila’s head, where Aila couldn’t really see her without craning her neck, “we were having a great time bonding until, you know, all of this.”

Because Aila couldn’t see her, and moving to do so would only get her scolded, she had to imagine Nova waving her free hand in aggravation.

“I for one am having a perfectly lovely time,” Lucius said.

Aila could never tell when he was being sarcastic, and she didn’t see that changing any time soon. She suspected in this case he might be genuine, though. The course instructor had complimented him on his very fancy camping vest (“It has so many pockets,” Lucius had said) and nobody had yet found the heart to tell Lucius that had been sarcasm. So all through this hike he’d been in a particularly good mood. That made him the only one, probably.

Things had been going rather well during the whole course, up until this morning: the morning of their final day in the course, when they would be tested “randomly” and, using little but their wits, a compass, and a map, navigate themselves back to the parking lot. Camping with her friends had been fun, even if it meant being squished into a two-person tent with Sentry and Nova (the latter of whom had very bony elbows) at night. Aila liked the outdoors. She liked the feeling of self-sufficiency that this course had brought with it. She imagined herself as something of a pioneer. In the olden times, she would’ve kicked ass at all of this.

Unfortunately, it was nigh on impossible to kick ass with a “broken leg.”

And she wasn’t hiking out of the woods. She was being carried. On a stretcher. This sucked. The instructor had folded his arms over his chest in a rather smug fashion as he gave them their final assignment. His eyes had lingered between Sentry and Aila, easily the tallest members of the group. And he’d narrowed in on her, which was why she was being lifted by her friends on a tarp stretcher that they’d improvised.

“This sucks.”

“Yes,” Quill said, grimacing. “So you’ve said multiple times. We’re not having the best go of it either right now.”

Aila closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She’d already had to fold her arms close into her chest like a sleeping vampire to avoid being bumped and jostled about. The tarp they’d fashioned into a stretcher smelled bad. She felt like she’d been stuffed into a tiny little space, not great when she suspected she was a little claustrophobic anyway. “I’m bored.”

“I’ve got several books you could read,” Nova said, completely earnest.

That would only make this day worse, having to read. Fortunately Sentry, who was planted on the right side above Aila’s head and therefore easy to see, laughed. “I don’t think a book will help.”

“I was up late reading all about the local fauna in case there was a pop quiz,” Nova said. “I could tell you about some of them?”

“I’d rather read the book,” Aila said.

Nova tilted her head, considering. “You know what? Fair.”

“It’s not long to the parking lot,” Lucius said in a cheerful voice, though he was a bit out of breath.

“Feels like miles,” Quill grumbled.

“That’s probably because it is. I was lying,” Lucius said, tittering nervously.

Aila had pointed out that the course instructors couldn’t see them, so she could just get up and walk for a bit until they were nearing the end and all of her friends could be spared, but Nova had looked so abjectly horrified at the thought of cheating on a test that Aila had backpedaled and felt a little actual shame. Just a tiny bit, though. Not enough to fully penetrate the thick barrier of indifference she liked to carry about.

“Fine,” she said now, with a sigh. “Tell me all about these fascinating plants of yours, Nova. Not like I can do much else right now.”

Nova squeaked in excitement, reaching down to grab Aila’s leg.

“Ow,” Aila deadpanned. “That one’s broken.”

“I thought it was the other one?”

“It’s not real,” Quill said. “She’s messing with you.”

“Right. Right! Okay, so to start with, these are deciduous trees—”

Aila tuned her out in record time. Since there wasn’t anything to do but lay stiffly with her arms in a stupid position and the stretcher swaying nauseatingly below her, Aila let the patter of Nova’s excited overexplaining wash over her. She closed her eyes to stave off the nausea of watching the canopy overhead.

Sleep didn’t come right away, though it drifted near enough that she dozed a few times. Finally, she heard Nova whisper, “Did I do it? Is she out?”

“Think so, yeah,” Sentry replied.

“Oh, thank H’esper.”

“Quill!”

“We’re the ones marching miles carrying her and she’s whining?” Quill whispered back. “Have a care for my legs. I can’t feel them anymore.”

“Me either,” Lucius said.

“Meanwhile, all she has to do is lay there and be carried!”

“Which for Aila is torture and you know it,” Nova hissed.

“I do suppose she’d whine less with an actual broken leg,” Lucius said, thoughtfully, and Aila nearly gave up the game by grinning. “She does have that stoicism thing going for her. I rather admire it at times. Daddy always said that I should be stron—ow, splinter!”

“You okay? We can take a break if need be,” Sentry said.

“I’ll endeavor to carry on,” Lucius said, but he sounded tearful.

Aila almost opened her eyes again, but joining this conversation would require more mental energy than she was willing to expend. Maybe if she did actually fall asleep, this nightmare of a hike would be over sooner.

“She does look kind of peaceful,” Nova said. “In a very Angry Aila way. Nobody tell her I said that. Either of those things.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Sentry promised.

There was a long silence. The stretcher continued to sway, though not in a soothing or repeatable pattern that promoted sleep, and her friends were quiet apart from the sound of heavy breathing as they tromped through the woods. Not a bad day for a hike, overall. She really wished she could just get up and walk alongside them, but if she had to be carried, so be it. At least she had them around her.

Aila nearly opened her mouth to tell them so (and ruin the illusion that she’d been napping this entire time) when Quill cleared his throat. “We are agreed, yes, that she’ll be driving the whole way home since she’s been napping this entire time anyway?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Duh.”

“Why, obviously. I’ll be completely knackered by that point.”

Aila’s smile probably betrayed her, but she elected not to care about that. She merely let the group travel on, carrying her to their final destination in their survival course. There were worse ways to spend a Sunday afternoon, even if it meant being the one to drive them home afterward.

[smarchit]

Look Around, Look Around pt 8

Summary: You escaped an abusive marriage, pregnant with your husband’s child. He sends a bounty hunter after you to bring you back. Everything changes. Din Djarin/pregnant!reader, no use of y/n

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Pregnancy/related topics, implied/referenced rape, mentions of abuse, references to childbirth.

Notes: This is the finale of the first part of this story. The second part of this series, “How Lucky We Are” is still being worked on and uploaded on Ao3 on no set schedule. I will start uploading the first four chapters here as well, with chapter one per day starting tomorrow. I will keep the tag list from this story, but you can always asked to be taken off at any time! I am so amazed at the support for this fic! Thank you to all who reblogged, replied, and liked each chapter! If someone told me last week I’d get over 100 notes on my writing I’d just have chuckled. That’s all. Enjoy the Part One finale! <3

When your daughter was seven months old, you left Sorgan again. You kept her in a wrapped sling close to your chest, one hand supporting her bottom as you waited to leave. It was secure - Omera made sure of that. She wouldn't fall, but you still liked to press your nose to her head and breathe in the still-new baby smell.

Mando and Cara were packing up your few belongings onto the ship while you sat with Winta and Omera, keeping the little babies occupied. The child was in Winta's lap, babbling back and forth with your daughter. Both he and your daughter had developed a rather strong bond and whenever Mando came to visit, which was often - about once every week or so, and at this point, it was difficult to get the child to want to leave. That was his baby sister, and you weren't able to convince him otherwise.

"Are you ready to go?" Mando asked as he finished carrying the last of the baskets up the ramp. He took the reluctant child from Winta's arms and straightened back up. 

You stood and turned to Omera so the young woman could say goodbye to you and your daughter.

"She's gotten so big already," she chuckled, smoothing a hand over the baby's head.

"I can't believe you're leaving already," Cara laughed with a shake of her head. "It seems like yesterday that you stumbled off the ship."

It was true - seven months ago when you returned to Sorgan with your hours-old baby, and you still weak from the somewhat difficult birth, you slept for almost a whole day, only half conscious as you woke every few hours to feed her. It took days for you to regain your strength. That really did seem like it had been yesterday. Now, Trin, as you had named her, squirmed in your arms as she looked around with those large eyes, so very like your own.

You didn't want to leave Sorgan, truth be told. You loved its grassy, marshy fields, its people, its humid days and cool nights. But you were itching for more adventure, and now that you were finally free to explore without fear of harming the child growing inside you, you desperately wanted to make the most of it. 

Trin babbled and trilled as you swiped your thumb across her chin to catch the drool that soaked into your shirt. You pressed another kiss to her head and looked at Mando.

He hugged Omera and then shook hands with Cara and placed a hand on top of Winta's head as he said his own goodbyes before he lead you up the ramp to the Razor Crest. It hurt to leave, but you knew you wouldn't be gone long. Or maybe you would be - it's a pretty big galaxy. There are lots of star systems and planets to travel to. Though you didn't think your heart would ever let you settle down anywhere else but the lush marshlands of Sorgan.

"Greef set up a rendezvous with a new client on Tatooine," Mando said as he placed a hand on your back as he pressed the button to close the ramp.

As you went and deposited your own small knapsack in the bedroom, you took a moment to glance around. There were no more bloodstains on the blankets, no more puddles of blood and amniotic fluid on the floor, no more of your screams echoed down the halls. It hadn't been the ideal situation to have your baby in, but you found it rather fit your newfound lifestyle of exploration.

"Go ahead up," he called as he finished securing some things down in the hold. "We'll be going in a few minutes."

You nodded, took one last look at the bedroom and all the memories it held and then climbed up the ladder to the cockpit, grateful you were able to use both hands this time.

Mando came up shortly after you took your seat and began to prepare for take off. He placed the child in his seat beside you. It took a minute to get it righted in the correct direction. He looked back at the three of you as the ship finally broke through the Sorgan atmosphere into space.

You smiled down at Trin, who had fallen asleep soon after you arrived on board. She didn't even move when you gently took her from the sling across your chest and held her in a loose blanket in your arms.

"Seven months and already used to a life in the stars," Mando said softly as he watched you. He seemed so relaxed to have you back in the copilot seat after so long.

"I'm surprised she isn't crying - first take off can be rough on the little ones," you murmured, smoothing down a haphazard baby curl.

He punched in the coordinates to Tatooine and pushed the control switch up to throw you into hyperspace once you were far enough out of the gravitational pull. The little silver ball was missing again, you noticed, and Mando sighed heavily as he looked for it.

The child beside you tugged on your sleeve to get your attention. When you looked down at him he held up the small ball in his three fingers and gestured with it towards Trin.

"What's that you've got there?" you murmured, your heart swelling with love when you realized what he was trying to do.

"What are you doing, womp rat?" Mando asked as he got up to stand by you. 

He touched the ball to Trin's blanket and then gently dropped it on her lap, blinking up at you innocently as he tried to get his point across. You smiled down at him and then looked up at the bounty hunter.

"Huh. Think he likes her?" he teased as he lightly touched one of his large ears.

You shrugged and scooped the child in your other arm so you could hold them both. The foundling was enthralled with the baby and looked between her, you, and Mando as if waiting for you to say something.

"I told Cara last week that he definitely thinks she's his sister," you said, pressing your forehead to his little green one.

"Does that make us his parents then?" Mando asked you. You could hear the small smile in his question and it brought a smile to your own face. He gently lifted Trin from your arms and brought her up to press his forehead gently against hers.

"That depends," you hummed as you cradled Mando's child as you would your own. You loved him as much as you did Trin. What did it matter then?

"On what?"

"Whether or not you want me to be his parent too," you said quietly. You didn't want to look up to see your reflection staring back at you his visor. Really, whatever you had grown to feel for the Mandalorian in the past year was far deeper than any other connection that you had with another person, aside from your daughter. 

Could it be love? Potentially. Respect? Yes, definitely that. What then ---

"I think you already are," Mando said softly. He held your daughter close to his chest as he watched her sleep.

His words rang in your ears. He said them so casually as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. You smiled and stood to stand beside him as you watched space streak by the front window.

"I was alone for so long," he continued. "I never formed any connections with others. It... It wasn't the Way. The foundling wasn't even supposed to be here at first. He was a bounty. By Mandalorian creed, I'm his father. I took him in as a foundling."

You smiled. "So do you just have a habit of collecting bounties instead of turning them in?"

Mando huffed a laugh. "You could say that."

You looked at the two babies and thought about how different life would have been had Mando taken you back, or if someone else came after you.

"So is Trin a foundling then?" you asked as your daughter began to stir.

"No." Mando shook his head but didn't look away from her. "She isn't. She's your daughter by birth."

"So are foundlings only those that are abandoned or lost? He seems like he could just be lost."

He was quiet for a moment. "Or orphans."

Oh. Oh.

You gently touched him on the arm. He didn't pull away. "Is that -- Is that what happened to you?" 

Mando looked back down at Trin and traced a gentle gloved finger over her features. He was silent for a long moment, lost in deep thought. "Yes," he murmured. "My parents were both killed when I was a boy."

In almost the year you had known him, he never had spoken of his past. Never said his name, never gave you his story. The only thing you knew about him was that he would never show you his face. And now you knew this.

"I'm sorry," you said softly.

Mando just pressed his forehead to Trin's again. A soft sound came through the modulator, slightly garbled and tinny. He may have been crying if you didn't know better.

You just kept a hand on his back. The child in your arms reached up to touch his adopted father.

Mando lifted his head and looked at the three of you.

"You have him, Mando," you said softly. "And me, and Trin. For as long as you'll have us aboard."

Trin's tiny fist came up from the folds of her blanket and reached for Mando's helmet and she gave a soft coo.

"I think she likes the idea," he murmured.

***

Mando walked in on you in the bedroom while you were feeding Trin later that evening. He didn't mean to do it, he merely wanted to let you know that you were nearing Tatooine.

Trin's dark eyes latched onto him as he stepped in the doorway. One of her tiny fists curled against your breast as she grunted softly as she drank. My curious little moon.

"I'm sorry. I'll go," Mando said softly. He turned to leave, but halted when you called to him.

"It's alright," you replied. "I don't mind if you stay. She just started."

Mando nodded and hesitantly joined you in the bedroom. He didn't want to crowd you, it seemed, so he pulled up a chair and sat across from you.

You looked down at Trin, who was looking all around the room, trying to find something interesting to look at. Her eyes always seemed to fall back onto the Mandalorian, who nervously watched you.

It was quiet in the bedroom except for the quiet sounds of Trin eating and the gentle rush of hyperspace. You could have nodded off if you weren't careful. 

Mando quietly cleared his throat as if he knew you were zoning out. 

You looked at him and then smiled. Words lingered on your lips, the same ones that had been sitting there since he first took you to Sorgan.

"Thank you," you said quietly. You stretched out your hand to brush against his arm. He looked down where your fingers touched beskar, but didn't pull away.

"For what?"

"For not taking me back."

Mando paused for a moment, then chuckled softly. "How could I? As soon as you told me you were pregnant, I knew I had to think of something."

You smiled a bit as you thought about the day you met him. You were so scared, hunched in a booth and sick to your stomach on the same planet you were about to land on. It sometimes still didn't feel real.

Trin detached herself from your breast then and stretched her little arms over her head. You pulled your shirt up over yourself and put her on your shoulder to pat her on the back. 

"I don't think I can ever truly thank you enough for what you did for me. For us," you said.

Mando shrugged. "I probably would have come back for you. It's how I ended up with the womp rat upstairs."

You laughed and shook your head. No matter what he said or did, you knew how much he loved the small child. It warmed your heart when you saw the two of them together. 

"Still have to think of a name for him," you reminded as you moved Trin from your shoulder when you heard her give a tiny burp. 

He shrugged. "I know. I just feel like he responds better to "kid" or something. I'll work on it."

You smiled and stood to put her in a tiny pod that was identical to the child's upstairs. You kept a gentle hand on her until she yawned and fell asleep.

When you turned, Mando was directly in front of you. He had a finger to his visor where you assumed his mouth to be and took another step closer.

"I'm glad you decided to come with me you know," he said. "Again, I mean. You really didn't have a choice the first time I dragged you out of that cantina."

"And I'm glad it was you that came after me." You feigned terror. "Can you imagine another bounty hunter after me instead? I could have been taken to the Hutts!"

"Worse than your ex-husband?"

You shrugged and gave a half smile. "Probably smell a little better than him."

Mando huffed and you could almost visualize him rolling his eyes.

You couldn't wait for the rest of the thousands of days that lie ahead for the four of you. If every day was like this, then your life would turn out better than you ever thought possible.

When you docked on Tatooine, Peli Motto, the full-time owner and resident mechanic (and part time babysitter, it seemed) squealed with delight when you presented not one, but two babies for her to look after.

You had to laugh when she realized what had happened when Mando first brought you aboard. She did the math in her and then promptly smacked him on the back of the helmet. 

"You mean to tell me you dragged this nice young lady while she was pregnant onto your ship as a kriffing bounty?" she shouted. 

Mando looked sheepish, though you couldn't see his face. 

"Obviously I didn't turn her in," Mando said as he tried to defend himself.

Peli made a threatening motion with her fist like she was going to hit him again, but then she turned her focus on you and smiled.

"She's a doll, my love," she said, taking Trin from you. Then she called over her shoulder, still talking to you but loud enough that Mando could hear from where he had disappeared back into the hold of the Crest. "At least one of you has the decency to name the damn kid and not leave them on board while they go to work!"

Peli rolled her eyes as Mando reappeared and gave a half-hearted gesture at you both.

You knew he had a smile on his face wider than a canyon.

"I'm glad you're keeping him in line," she continued, rubbing your arm briskly. "You two go have fun. Stay out of trouble!"

Mando handed you a blaster as he walked over to you both.

"Usually finds us, Peli," he said. "We do our best to keep out of it."

"See that you do," she replied, hefting both Trin and the child in her arms. "You two have little ones to look after now. I'm sure they'd like you to do it together."

You laughed and followed Mando out of the hangar, your heart full and ready for a whole new adventure. 

Together.

TAGLIST:

@miscellaneous-mando @lestrange2703 @someplace-darker @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @poeticparker @blackbird337 @the-last-twin-of-krypton @divineangelix @c1996 @mell-bell @qhbr2013 @bookszazzy @marvelbros-oneshots @cuteboyking @boomtownboy @connor-challoner @fandom-lover-4 @itsmysticalmystery @love-struck-aries @lifeisapitch15 @cosmicwhisper @hybrid-huntress @isuspectitwasthenargles @whatismylife00

[missinghan]

countless skies upon me ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : fantasy; action; fluff; angst 

❖ word count : 16,5k.

❖ warnings : explicit language, mentions of blood + violence

❖ summary : when you stumble upon the notoriously skilled swordsman of Kalmburg, your heart finds itself wanting to get closer to his.

❖ a/n : this is the full extension of this blurb that I wrote impulsively after rewatching an old anime, please give swordsman minho a whole lot of love 🖤

prologue.

Minho’s wooden sword gets knocked out of his grasp, landing onto the floor with a loud series of clattering noises. The little boy widens his eyes when the tip of another wooden sword hovers over his stomach and he looks up to be met with the stoic gaze of his mentor. 

“What did I tell you yesterday, Minho?” 

“That I need to make more progress on improving my reaction time,” he answers grimly and rubs his forearm, head hanging low in shame. “I need to know the timing of the enemy like the back of my hand and use my own timing in which they don’t expect.”

His mentor retreats his sword swiftly, humming, “You got distracted, you weren’t observing my stance before I lunged at you. By narrating the enemy’s preparation, you can partially map out their movements, when and where they’re aiming for. That’s why you were taken aback and this allowed me to disarm you with little effort.”

“But master!” Minho pries stubbornly. “It’s not very fair if an opponent can’t fight with their sword, is it? A sword is supposed to be the coil of a swordsman’s strength. It’s all we’ll ever have.”

A fatherly smile dances on his mentor’s lips this time. “Strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things,” he places a warm hand on Minho’s shoulder, speaking softly. 

“And it doesn’t matter if you still have your sword or not, fighting isn’t an obligation, it’s a choice. A choice whether you’re going to fight until the very end or not.”

one.

Market stalls crowd the route, selling sacks of nuts and dried fruit, grilled meat hanging on lines after lines of roasting skewers. Powdered spices lay in rust red and dusty yellow and bright green piles spill from sacks as large as feed bags. Mixed and familiar scents cut through thin air, people bumping into each other, toes trodden on. Lovers stroll hand in hand, casually browsing whilst housewives hustle and bustle, hollering over background noises for the best price.

Minho ends up walking through the entire market before getting to work that day with an apple in his stomach, silently like a phantom, blending into the sea of people effortlessly. 

To him, work is just like another day in the market for stallholders, another pile of weapons needed to be honed and repaired for blacksmiths and another batch of bread to bake early in the morning for bakers. 

Except his job is somewhat… questionable and considerably dangerous for a guy who looks nothing like a warrior. At least that’s what he’s been told. Rather pretty-looking eyes being hidden under his long fringe, a high and slim nose bridge, sharp philtrum. He’s not that tall either and doesn’t necessarily have as many muscles as he initially wanted. But the swordsman doesn’t listen to his muscles to fight, he listens to his mind and becomes one with his blade. 

There’s no need for a shield or armor, for he thinks they’re doing nothing but getting in his way and slowing him down during combats. Minho draws his sword with no more qualms than a middle-aged lady gossiping about her irritating neighbors and slashes his enemies while thinking about what he’ll be making himself for dinner that day. There’s no joy for him in violence, but he takes extreme pride in a good clean kill. He has a reputation to maintain and that reputation keeps him safe in this world. 

A man approaches Minho from behind, leaning himself flat against the wooden bench that the swordsman has situated himself on for the past hour. The guy never makes the first move, that’s what he’s been told. 

“Twenty thousand units,” the masked client speaks up, his voice mellow and slightly muffled. “If you can bring back the head of a shadow wolf that’s been lurking around the Dunst forest these days, I’ll double the price. Silver-white fur, brown eyes. Make it quick too, and you can have sixty in total. He’s been eating up one too many of our sheeps already.”

His lips twitch subtly and he crosses his legs, keeping his tone low but clear, “Shadow wolves can’t handle the cold that well, why would one roam around a place with such tremendous decrease in temperature at night?” The sound of coins crashing against each other in the leather pouch suddenly irritates him. 

“C’mon, Black Swordsman, how would I know these things? I’m just merely a guy who’s trying to get by in life,” the man chuckles lightheartedly but Minho isn’t finding anything funny. No one ever gets the upper hands in a deal with him. “Look, I heard you’re good at your job and you sure look like you know what you’re doing so why don’t you just take the mon—“

 Minho stuffs his hands into his pocket and sighs, “Don’t think so lowly of me, I don’t accept deposits. I’ll only get my money once I’m done with the job. Meet me here tomorrow at noon, sharp. And if I don’t show up, consider locking your sheeps inside.” And with a grin through his flat lips under the mask, the cryptic client leaves Minho alone by the bench, fully satisfied with his attitude and reactions. 

The brunet gazes at the space ahead for a good ten seconds, thinking rather deeply about this before waving his hand absentmindedly, calling out to the errand boy who’s been hiding behind the ugly tree. “You can come out now, Jeongin. Did you catch any of that?” he asks without turning around. 

“Every single word,” Jeongin cancels the spell that’s been his cover during their entire conversation before stepping out, pursing his lips together. “A guy who’s trying to get by in life but still has twenty thousand to pay you beforehand? Sounds absurd to me.”

“Enough with the brainless chatters, you know what to do,” Minho pushes himself off the bench when his muscles start growing sore on the hardened surface. “If you do a good job, I’ll treat you out for dinner. Now run along, Chaeryeong is probably looking for you, don’t be late to class.”

Jeongin holds him back by the sheath of his sword, “You’re still going to accept the job? I don’t think it’s worth the risk. He’s obviously setting you up.” 

“If anything, I might bring his head back instead of the wolf’s,” Minho replies monotonously, and Jeongin lets his hand fall to his side. The swordsman turns on his heels to see concern laced in the younger boy’s eyes, this prompts his voice to soften. “Don’t worry, a single wolf can’t hurt me,” he ruffles his hair before slipping into the crowd again, making his way towards the mountains to enter the Dunst forest. 

He wouldn’t mind dying alone, actually. It’s not like he has any regrets.

two.

The city of Kalmburg has it that no one has ever surpassed Lee Minho when it comes to the art of swordsmanship. 

“If you’re going to take on a guy who can parry a crossbow bolt with his sword as he’s contending against five other men, it’s time to re-evaluate the direction of your life—preferably while running away as fast as you can.”

The man walks up to the center of the town square every single day at the crack of dawn, his figure fully covered in a big black cloak, the hood thrown lazily over his head. All you can see is the strides he takes with his black combat boots. He almost belongs, but not quite. Kalmburg is known for its dashingly ornamental architecture — a white granite surface with serene spires can be seen from the castle at the top of the hill, soothing atmosphere and generically nice residents. Some say no beauty can be compared to its sunrise due to the dashing sight of a lake situated before the town square’s gate. 

Whereas, Lee Minho gives people a stark contrast with his dark aura and the black sword hung firmly on his back. He easily takes in everyone’s attention with a single sweep, his midnight orbs setting on nothing before he leaves as expressionless as he’s entered. His purposes and motives always remain hidden; hence the allure. Though it’s not hard to see how he’s making a good living on a daily basis. 

For one, he slays monsters; and for another, he deals with people. Outsiders might be surprised at how many units the Nobles are more than willing to pay him as long as he comes back alive, with the beast’s head limp in his hands. There were times when he’d come back covered in a sea monster’s gastric juice, other times he could barely walk back to the town because his spleens got severely damaged. But most of the time, he’d return as though he just got back from a stroll, outstretching his palm to collect the payment. 

Dealing with people is far more troublesome than those deadly creatures, Minho constantly tells himself so. It’s true, after all. Because when careless juveniles aren’t able to snatch their parents’ spare change on the dining table, they decide it’s a brilliant idea to challenge him for a duel. If they win, he’ll have to follow their request without receiving a single penny. But if things go the other way around, they will most likely come home crying for their mother. Such a nuisance. 

Today is no different. 

Moving into the morning dew is a shadow wolf. His paws kiss the earth not gracefully, but rather with evident difficulties and there’s a ray of exhaustion in that pair of bronzed eyes. The wolf has seen better days. His silver-white fur is thin and it clings to his frame like an old cloak in a gale. Even from several yards away, Minho can count each rib as they’re sticking out, he sees dejection in his movements as if he’s gonna let himself tumble to the ground any moment. 

Minho carefully inhales, pulling out a silver dart from the back of his belt. He raises his hand and aims precisely for the pine tree, just a strand of hair away from the wolf’s ear. When he exhales, the weapon comes flying past the creature before embedding itself to the wooden surface. 

The wolf whips his head towards the swordsman, locking eyes as he lets out a mere cry of pain, crimson dripping down on the side of his head. As Minho pulls his hood off of his face, slightly dubious that the creature of darkness will turn into a wisp of black smoke to take flight deeper into the forest, the wolf shakes his head before lying down on the soil, unable to coordinate his limbs. Then with his great grey head on his bloodied paws, he closes his eyes. He’s giving up on his life. 

“Something’s wrong. Shadow wolves’ blood isn’t supposed to be red,” Minho holds his breath in utter disbelief, taking a step backward. He’s got the wrong target. No, that client scammed him. 

A branch snaps. 

Minho reaches for his sword when the sound of thin air being ripped apart rings inside his eardrums, two blades coming in contact with each other and he has to squint slightly when tiny sparks of flame come to life between the weapons. Instead of looking at the raider, he quickly deflects their slash again. Hypothetically speaking, there are two possibilities: the first is that both swords are too weak to withstand the pressure of the blow, so they’ll simply break - in the exact same fashion. The second is in which case both blades are durable enough to field the contact, they will bounce right back. But his unwanted guest seems to detest him so much to the point they keep their sword grinding against his until their weapons slip against each other, creating a wave of grating shriek resonating through the woods, dust being thrown in the air. 

He stumbles backward, the sole of his shoes tearing the leaves below into bits. His vision shakes a little from the sudden attack before trying to focus on the figure before him. The first thing that he sees is the white wolf on the button of your silver-accent cloak. That’s the royal guards’ emblem.

“You,” the female voice catches him by surprise. “Lay another finger on that wolf now, I dare you.” You know all too well who this man is, and like hell you’re going to let him do what he wants just because of some cheap units.

Minho’s fully aware that his beating heart is thundering inside his chest, but he’s not sure if it’s because of the adrenaline flowing in his veins or those round eyes glaring at him from under the sunlight. He sees the grip on the hilt of your rapier being tightened and that’s when he regains his composure, taking in a deep breath. If he gave up now because of a pretty face with a deadly blade, he’d damn his reputation as a swordsman.

“Oh that wolf is all yours,” he smiles at you fakely, wiping the beads of sweat on his cheekbones away. “But you’re going to have to do better than snooping around on people.”

Minho steadies his grip on his sword, trying to keep himself together in the deafening silence, “So, who’s making the first move now?” The tonal mockery in his voice irks you and he seems to notice that too by the slight smirk tugging at his lips when the muscles on your face twitch. 

One. Breathe in.

You’re getting into your stance sideways, your blade eye level. This man doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into. 

Two. Breathe out. 

Minho isn’t letting his guard down this time despite being slightly impressed with your skills. Usually, there aren’t many girls who take up sword fighting, at least not in his hometown so he thought you’d be sort of a novice. But your dexterity is beyond incredible, he can hardly see the tip of your sword. 

Three. “I am.”

You charge first by swinging your rapier at him from above, Minho receiving the clash with the flat of his blade. He circles away from you, keeping his sword in motion while constantly changing his stances and attacks. Rapiers aren’t very suitable for slashing or slicing since the blade is so long and thin, it can only allow its owner more speed, more precise stabs and thrusts but greatly lowers their defense. So if he can just catch you off guard…

When the tip of your sword grazes just above his clothed ribs, Minho’s reflexes kick in and his blade knocks yours away almost immediately. With the bewildered look on your face as a signal, he dodges as you attempt another stab at his left ear. This causes you to trip on your heels, your balance quivering the moment his sword slashes at the button of your cloak rather than your neck. To prevent yourself from falling, you jump and do a backflip safely, breath’s fraying as the piece of clothing is completely ditched by a tree. 

“You are strong, just like the rumors,” you breathe out a stoic comment, chest heaving up and down rapidly. 

“You aren’t too bad yourself either,” Minho grins; he hasn’t felt this much eagerness to fight someone other than monsters before. In other words, he’s never faced someone who knows what they’re doing with a sword as skilled as you are. 

You cock a brow at him, confused, “Why are you smiling?” 

“I don’t know, actually,” he shakes his head and hearty waves of laughter bubble up inside his stomach. The brunet sheaths his sword with a loud ‘clunk’, walking towards you to place a warm hand on your shoulder. “But good fight, you really know how to hold a sword.”

“Wait… aren’t we going to finish this?”

Minho picks up your cloak from the ground, outstretching his palm, “You seem like a person who knows what it takes so I don’t think that’d be necessary anymore. But I’d be glad to take you on again?”

This man is baffling you, and not in a good way either. Nonetheless, you still slide your sword back into its sheath and accept his handshake. “So you’re gonna leave that wolf alone right?”

“Only if you tell me what happened to it,” Minho replies firmly, receiving a nod of approval from you. He actually seems like a solid person. Perhaps you can trust him. 

“That’s my brother, Chan.”

three.

The forest hums with life all around you. You lift your head ever so slightly when the sunlight slips through the green leaves and branches, lighting up the dirt path ahead decorated with outgrown roots and wildflowers. You gaze up at the fluffs of clouds, searching for the birds that are singing sweetly. Minho trudges on before you a couple of steps, finding the natural fragrance of the current surroundings rather soothing. It’s making his eyes droopy.

“What happened to him again?”

He stretches his limbs tiredly and yawns like there’s no tomorrow, making you scrunch your nose in disapproval. He’s not even paying attention to you. It’s been at least an hour since you’ve mounted an unconscious Chan on your horse — Noir and accepted this cryptic stranger as your guide for now. You’ve never been to this forest more than once so it’s best if you follow him—an experienced individual in order to get your brother back safely. 

You frown at him, giving the back of his neck a firm slap while your other hand is holding onto the rein. “Ow, what was that for?!” he yelps. 

“You weren’t listening, were you?” 

“Remotely,” he hums out a reply, “I didn’t sleep that well last night.” And that’s when you notice the dark spots under his eyes, the occasional tears whenever he squints his eyes under the sunlight. The job’s more draining and demanding than you thought. 

To be fair, slaying monsters and getting your hands bloodied might not be the best thing to do to a degree of morality but you really can’t judge him when you’ve only known him for a few hours. Minho’s far younger than you’d expected too. You’ve had your strolls downtown from time to time with your fellow royal guards and it’s not hard for rumors to fly. People were gasping and bouncing on the balls of their feet talking about this mysterious swordsman who’s dressed completely in black, a single one-handed sword, no shield, and no armor. They really had you thinking he was an old man in his forties who has no regrets, just trying to get by in life no matter what it takes. 

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him charming the moment you saw that handsome face under the big cloak. 

“He was recovering from a business trip so our mage decided to treat him with a special potion,” you nibble on your bottom lip, looking over at your worn out brother sideway in concern. You’ve wrapped his injuries up with some of the cloth that you’d packed before leaving this morning, he should be fine. “I guess something went wrong; hence, he’s magically turned into a wolf, panicked and bolted out of the castle. And you know how cruel people can be sometimes…”

“Oh, sorry about that,” Minho feels a big lump in his throat when you secretly toss a glare at his direction. “I should have known something was off the moment he started bleeding red.” He shakes his head, highly disappointed in himself for mistaking Chan as a shadow wolf. His professional etiquette forbids him ever repeat the same mistake. 

You stop dead in your track, cocking your head at him in confusion, “What do you mean?” 

Wait, no, something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong. It can’t be that simple. “You’re still going to accept the job? I don’t think it’s worth the risk. He’s obviously setting you up.” His steps come to a halt, only a few feet away from you and before you can even tap him out of it, Minho snaps his head back, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Tell me, when you first entered the forest, did you encounter any wolves? Even just one?”

“N-No, I don’t think so,” you stutter, slightly flustered at the sudden decrease in proximity. But you soon shake the heat on your cheekbones away when he lets go of you, pacing back and forth to think hard about something. “Uhh- what are you-”

“Shh shh..”

“Did you just shush me-” The wind whistles in your ears and you stumble backward when Minho draws his sword, the blade coming in contact with something hard and deflecting it successfully. Your jaw is locked at the sight of an arrow sticking to a tree not very far off. That could have been your head instead...He just saved your life.

“Someone’s coming, take cover.”

Minho carefully tugs your horse over to a nearby slope when you hop off the main pathway, waving him over to a big tree. You both get down on one knee as the sound of armors crashing against each other grows louder, dreadful footsteps becoming more detectable. Swiftly, Minho notices the color of your bright blue cloak can easily be detected right through the bush and clicks his tongue in annoyance. He unbuttons his black coat, silently draping it over your smaller figure. For a second there, you widen your eyes at him but soon ensconcing yourself obediently under the leather fabric. 

Stepping into your vision are two familiar faces, Minho’s breath almost hitches in his throat when he realizes they’re clothed in the same blue and white uniform as yours. Both equally emitting the same hostility and mettle—as expected from the astute royal guards. 

“Hyun-”

You stagger backward when Minho clasps a firm hand over your mouth, shaking his head while you’re giving him a ‘what are you doing?’ look. The moment you manage to peel yourself away from his grip, your fellow colleagues are nowhere to be seen. They must be looking for you since you left the castle this morning without a proper announcement. “What was that about?! They’re my friends, now if you’d excuse me-”

“They aren’t the most trust-worthy people right now,” he lets out a sigh. “Think about it. They’re parts of the few people who could possibly see Chan the day before he turned into a wolf. And I’m sure the royal mage wouldn’t have such a reason to spike the commander of the guards. I don’t see how it’d benefit her if Chan was to take a break from his position. On the other hand…”

Is he accusing one of your friends of harming your brother? And for what too? A higher rank in the team? Preposterous! “Why would I trust you then, Black Swordsman?” 

Minho cringes inwardly at the nickname because good gracious, it’s so unoriginal. He’s heard about plenty of Black Swordsmen before during his wandering all over the Continent. They’re basically cryptic-looking swordsmen dressed in black...people really need to come up with more colorful monikers.

“Because I just saved your life from those people whom you called ‘friends’,” he blinks at you bluntly and the hand resting on the hilt of your sword tenses up. 

You take in a deep breath, slowly considering his deductions. It’s not like he doesn’t have a point but you don’t understand as to why Hyunjin or Changbin would want to overtake your brother, they’ve only become a part of the royal guards four years ago. You might not grow up together but after going on plenty of adventures and living in the palace, you’re practically family.

Still, humans are made of greed after all.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you exhale. “You’re going to help me figure this out for throwing a dart at Chan’s ear. But if you even think about hurting him or make a single move that prompts me to think you’re doing something behind our back, I’m going to tear out your spine with my bare hands.”

Minho chuckles at your threatening tone, slightly scared for his life, “There’s no need to worry, miss…” You raise a brow at him when he trails off rather flusteredly. “Ma’am? No- uh, vice commander? What about lady…”

“The name’s Y/N,” you can’t help but break into a fit of giggles, amused at his sudden discomposure. Seems like this man has been chit-chatting with monsters more than having civil conversations with other human beings for his whole life. “And would you get your hands off me now? We don’t have to hide anymore.”

His chest swells a bit at that if he’s being honest.

four.

“Aren’t we supposed to be at the castle?” Minho looks at the log house before his eyes questioningly. Not that he’s complaining, he doesn’t think it’s the best idea for him to show up in front of royalties either. 

You pull off your hood and say, “No, the royal mage doesn’t live there.” After a few knocks with your knuckles on the wooden door, hurried footsteps are audible from inside the house—whoever’s in there must be dying to see you, Minho thinks. 

“Yeji, how are y—“ The door flies open and a figure thrashes against you faster than a lightning bolt, their arms wrapped around your torso, rubbing your back tenderly. You’re slightly taken aback but smile nonetheless knowing that your friend was worried sick like she’s always been. “Hello to you too, stupid.”

This prompts Minho to avert his gaze away awkwardly, the grip on Noir’s reign tightening evidently and your horse lets out a small neigh, nudging her nose against his side like she’s attempting to appease him. He murmurs a small ‘thank you’, hand reaching upward to brush through her shiny black coat. Shaking his head, he snickers at himself for talking to a horse. 

Yeji mumbles against your neck in relief, like someone’s just lifted a weight off her shoulders, “Good gracious, Y/N! Are you okay? You just left without saying anything. Changbin and Hyunjin said they couldn’t find you in the woods and Chan’s gone missing for a few days now and I got so worried I-”

“Slow down, Yeji,” you give her a firm squeeze in reassurance, chuckling. “It’s barely been a day. I did manage to find Chan, surprisingly, thanks to Minho, well, partly.”

“Who’s Minho?” she pulls away to get a good look at the man standing next to your horse, eyes widening in surprise. Dressed in black, one-handed sword, no shield, and armor. “Is that the Black Swordsman? Like the Lee Minho? He’s the real thing?”

You grit through a stiff smile, “As real as it can get.”

“Huh, and I thought he’d be some old, balding man in his forties,” Yeji comments while eyeing the swordsman up and down, making him somewhat uncomfortable. “He knows how to use a sword, is young and quite the looker too. Ohh I see what’s going on here..”

You warn her with a clap on her forearm, “You’re embarrassing me in front of that jerk.”

However, she ignores you and pushes the door open, motioning for Minho to carry Chan inside. “Move quickly now, Black Swordsman, I suppose Chan’s condition must be critical, his heartbeat and the blood flow in his veins is increasing at an alarming speed.”

Minho looks around in awe when he steps into the log house—there’s not much for him to say about the house. Furniture is self-explanatory enough: a single bed, a comfortable chair made with what seems to be one of the finest materials, a wooden shelf above the fireplace with an array of potions with different shades and colors, windows completely covered with curtains. It’s not much, but it does feel homey. He would be able to find a place like this with ease if he hadn’t wasted all of his money into information dealing and weapons trading.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? The house, I mean.” 

Yeji’s question snaps him out of it. And he looks over at the table where Chan’s lying, immobile and his bronzed eyes droopy and his breaths mingling. There’s a strange, bright light pulsing from the mage’s fingertips when she hovers her palm over Chan’s bloodied ear. Minho watches as the light flickers from a shade of white to blue, enveloping the open wound and heals it completely. He meets Yeji’s eyes before she pulls her hand back, her eyes glowing gold before turning back into a deep brown. The art of magic is truly fascinating. 

Minho manages to blurt, slightly flustered, “What?”

“You said the house’s nice, I simply agreed with that statement for it is true,” she briskly reaches for a flask, inside holds a soft green-colored liquid with golden specks floating around. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he frowns at her when she brings the rim of the flask to Chan’s mouth, pouring the odd-looking liquid down his throat. 

You speak up from behind her, arms crossed in front of your chest, “Yeji, stop reading people’s mind that’s creepy.”

“Okay I’ve got everything I need for the potion that’ll manage to turn Chan back into his human form,” Yeji tells you while rummaging through her wooden cabinets filled with bottles after bottles, grabbing some along the way as she comes back to the table. “But I’m missing some crystals. And I’m not talking about those fake ones that you see at the stores, the ones I need are way towards the north, in Drachens Hohle, on the Restless Cliffs.”

Minho hums, brows knitted together, thinking rather thoroughly about this. “Drachens Hohle is pretty far off, it might take us an entire day to get there, and then another day climbing those cliffs...we might need to pass by a store of a friend of mine to pack some stuff since I suppose you won’t be returning to the castle anytime soon. We’ll get moving as soon as possible,” he mumbles and nods to himself, satisfied with the plan. 

“Let me just make one thing clear here, Black Swordsman…”

He screws his eyes shut when air suddenly gets ripped apart, only opening them slowly after and almost flinches at the tip of a dagger pointed directly at his nose; one wrong move and his eye will be gone. Minho doesn’t know what should startle him more—the blade gleaming with a bright shade of yellow or the dark look in Yeji’s eyes when he meets them. He’s seen Chaeryeong do it many times before—incorporating magic with weapons, to better the damage output while maintaining the defensive factors. 

“If you lay just one single finger on my friend, I'm going to turn you into a mere, pathetic, little sparrow and lock you in a cage along with other pieces in my collection.”

Minho panics, feeling nauseous at the thought, “What collection?”

The mage withdraws her knife and laughs it off, “I was messing around with you, there’s no collection. Look after her for me, she can be quite clumsy sometimes.”

“The clumsy one here is you,” you mumble bitterly in the corner, extremely embarrassed for the sake of your friend. You might as well dig a hole and bury yourself in it.

Unexpectedly, the wooden door is once again pushed open, two men barging into the log house abruptly. You and Yeji remain still in your current positions while Minho touches the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it. “Don’t bother, they’re friends,” you wave at him absentmindedly before pushing yourself off the chair, walking over to the front door. 

“Y/N, where have you been?!” 

“Hello to you too, Bin.”

Changbin pushes past Hyunjin and jabs his index finger at you, eyes filled with both rage and concern. “What were you thinking? If you’re going to find Chan, we’re going with you. We’re a team and he’s our brother too! Don’t you remember? That was an irresponsible and childish action to do, you’d better have a good explanation for this. If you’re going to do something, at least act your role in the team more properly.”

Hyunjin pulls him back by the arm, shaking his head, “Changbin, stop. There’s no point in arguing. What’s most important is she’s gotten back safely.”

You eye both of your teammates back and forth, skepticism and uncertainty rising from the pit of your stomach. If what Minho said was true, then the culprit must be one of them. Or was he lying to you, trying to mess with your mind in order to achieve a personal goal of some sort? After all, you’ve only met him today yet you’ve known Changbin and Hyunjin for years now, why would you even hesitate to choose your friends over a total stranger? 

“I wasn’t alone.” Changbin pauses at your words. “He was with me, this is-”

“Lee Minho.” You gape at your friend in disbelief. 

Minho’s hand pulls away from his sword, a strange glint flashes in his eyes for a moment there. “It’s good to see you’re doing well, Changbin,” he says with difficulties, clearly not knowing how to act. 

“Why were you with her?” Hostility washes over the atmosphere when Changbin croaks out, fists clenching in anger. “Y/N, what were you doing with a scumbag like him? Haven’t you heard enough rumors about this guy? People like him only care about themselves, they’ll just end up hurting you in the end. There’s no good in letting him stick around.”

When you squint your eyes at him, Changbin takes long strides towards you, grabbing your wrist and attempting to pull you away. “Yeji, please take care of Chan for the time meaning and we’ll be heading back to the castle. Y/N can’t just leave when we need her the most.“

Minho tugs you back towards him and voices firmly, “I’m sorry, but your vice commander belongs to me now. I’ll be responsible completely for her security and escort her with all my respects. You’ll simply have to make do without her for some days.”

Changbin lunges for Minho’s collar, anguish seething inside his chest. “Insolent bastard! On what basis do you think you have the right to protect her? You might not be a threat, but you’d better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero? Like you?” He shouldn’t have said that. 

Hyunjin looks rather concerned, rubbing his friend’s shoulders, “Changbin, we should go.”

“Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin,” you step in between them in disquiet, shoving Changbin away. “As vice commander of the royal guards, I will be coming with Lee Minho in the next few days on an important trip and I stand by my own decision. If my absence causes the team any trouble, I’ll be more than happy to receive the punishment from our superiors. You two are to return to the castle until further notice, continuing on with your service for the king and queen.”

“As we should,” Hyunjin smiles at you sweetly before walking over to Chan, giving the wolf a small pat on the head. In return, Chan lets out a displeased growl but it’s too small to notice. Minho watches the guard from afar, suspecting the strange glint in his eyes. He decides to say nothing about it.

“I’ve already warned you about him, don’t come crying for me when things go wrong.” With that, both of the royal guards excuse themselves out of the log house—Changbin shutting the door angrily after Hyunjin bidding you goodbye with a hug. This makes your heart heavy for not being able to trust them. You still don’t understand as to why, but you have a sudden faith in Minho, your intuitions are telling you that you should trust him. 

Softly, you ask, “You know Changbin?”

“He’s an old friend, we haven’t talked in a while,” Minho shifts uncomfortably in his chair, finding the topic rather awkward to talk about. “We didn’t get along that well back then either. Glad to see nothing has changed.”

You shouldn’t have asked him in the first place. 

five.

A wide variety of shops lined the streets of downtown Kalmburg: antique and art stalls, jewelry, and accessory shops, luxury boutiques, souvenir kiosks and stores selling leather goods, all showcasing an array of the finest wares in the area. Tourists flock to them like fireflies to a lamp, enthusiasm accentuating their features. The silvery melody of the drawl of sightseers and the strong, distinct accents of the locals drift through your ears as they amble by. 

You follow Minho to the very end of the streets with your cloak draped over Chan’s limp body. No one needs to know why there’s an unconscious wolf on the back of your horse. Alas, you both arrive in front of an old wooden door, the mahogany color fading as a result of time. He told you that he needed to pass by a friend’s place but doesn’t this place look a bit fishy-

“Five hundred units for ten bags of Philenor powder, and you’re good to go!”

A blond-haired boy peeks out from a client behind the counter. “Well if it isn’t my least favorite customer,” he voices cheerfully. 

“That’s because I’m smart enough to not buy any of your shit, Jisung,” Minho walks in with a grin, pitifully eyeing the dreadful-looking man who’s taking heavy strides out of the shop. He’ll learn someday. “Still running your greedy business as usual I see.”

The dealer named Jisung returns the sarcastic remark with a gummy smile, bumping his fist against Minho’s in a brotherly way. “Don’t speak so ill of me, will you? This greedy business is housing you,” he retorts, “I suppose you’re going to hog my place tonight as you always do, Black Swordsman?” So turns out he spends his night slumbers in this old crusty shop, no wonder people think he sleeps in the woods since they’ve never run into him outside of the town square before.  

“Actually, I won’t be in town for tonight,” Minho’s answer catches Jisung off guard. “I’m heading north, to the Restless Cliffs.”

“Another life-risking business trip huh. You’re going to need warm clothes, some supplement, and probably some medicine too,” Jisung hums to himself. “Hey, Felix! Get your butt over here and sharpen a sword!”

You detach your rapier from your belt and take a few steps forward before placing it onto the counter. “Uhh, can you perhaps do the same thing for my sword? I’m coming with him,” you try to appear as friendly, not wanting to startle him. 

But to your dismay, “Y-You’re one of the th-the royal guards!”

The younger boy looks over at you, utterly bewildered when he sees the emblem on your uniform. His eyes look like they’re about to pop out of their socket any second now. As if to fuel the fire, Minho jerks his head towards the direction of Noir, speaking casually, “Also, ask Chaeryeong to take care of the wolf and the horse for me. Tell her to be gentle too, the wolf is hurt and confused. Don’t let him drink potions that aren’t tested beforehand.”

“You brought injured animals to my shop?!”

“One more thing, I need to see Jeong-”

Jisung has to manually shut him up by swinging an arm over his neck, forcing his friend to tumble over the wooden counter, their cheeks pressed against each other. He’s practically spitting into Minho’s face at this point. “What in the world is an outcast, stubborn-headed of a loner like you doing out here with a royal guard?! Didn’t you say that having other people coming along would only get in the way? I thought you worked alone! What’s the deal man?”

“Ahaha, it’s a long story. You see-”

“Excuse my discourtesy for I haven’t introduced myself properly yet,” Jisung stops and averts his gaze over to you, soon letting go of Minho when you flash him a crooked smile. “My name is Y/N, second in command of the royal guards and I’ll be stuck with this dimwit for a while, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jisung reciprocates your bow, the look in his eyes softening a bit, “And I’m Han Jisung, freelance dealer, single, I’m looking for a—“ Minho finds it irksome how his friend is already out and about, starting a proper conversation without almost getting killed by you so his fist moves on its own, jabbing against the blond’s stomach, forcing air out of his mouth with a low grunt. 

“Don’t mind him,” he turns sideways to reassure you, holding back the twitching muscles on his face. “He’s a decent person, despite how creepy he can be sometimes.” Jisung then elbows him harshly as a payback, making a scene when they start wrestling with each other like a bunch of toddlers. This makes you snort involuntarily, the Black Swordsman isn’t as fully-fledged as what’s been told around the public.

“Kids, that’s enough,” you tell them after making a grab for one of your pouches on Noir’s back. “Minho, why don’t you go meet up with the blacksmith? And Jisung, do you perhaps have a kitchen that I can borrow?”

While Minho’s mumbling something under his breath, hugging both of his and your sword to his chest to make his way behind the counter, Jisung nods at you, lifting a curtain next to a shelf full of weapons, gems, crystals, and potions that leads you down a dark, narrow hallway. “It’s not much,” he says and lights a candle so none of you would trip over each other. “But I hope it helps.”

“Don’t even, doing all of this for a stranger like me is incredibly generous of you,” you say humbly, not wanting to take anything for granted. “I’ll definitely return the favor when I come back.”

Jisung stops walking all of a sudden, causing you to almost bump into his back. “Is that so? Then, uhh…” he scratches the nape of his neck sheepishly. “How do I say this..? I know Minho can be irrational sometimes, loves pretending like he doesn’t care, and always runs into fire. So please..” His throat starts growing dry as he lowers his head a bit, attempting to bow at you.

“Take care of him for me, will you?”

You smile at the blond-haired boy, warmth flaring through your rib cage like butterflies, “I assure you he’s in good hands.”

six.

That night, you and Minho spend the whole night, the next morning, and the afternoon walking barefooted from Kalmburg to a small village at the base of the Restless Cliffs called Drachens Hohle. And it’s anything but Kalmburg. Rustic cabins dot the grassy hills as trees stand up like spikes, zigzagging the border of brick roads and unpolished homes. Rivers stream through deep valleys. The town is as complex as the heart, the streets are the veins, paved with red stones and the people are the heart. They look like they don’t own much, but are willing to share everything and anything. It’s the smiles on their faces, the way they greet each other, the sound of weapons and breastplates being pounded into shape that shows you just how alive this small community can be.

The motel Minho chooses looks like one of those places where men with beer guts would be snooping around with their neighbor’s wife, paying by the hour; a place where random hookers and drug-dealers would thrive. There are external wooden stairs that lead to a second floor, the second row of doors, that looks like the building inspector was either bribed to pass it or drunk on the job. You insist on finding a better place than this rat-hole but Minho said you don’t have to waste a couple of extra pennies just so the beds can be softer.

After dinner, you both receive your own keys before going upstairs to your respective rooms. A dingy place like this isn’t able to provide much when it comes to furniture anyway so there’s only a plain bed with pillows and a blanket, a nightstand with a pitch of water, and a small candle beside it. You sigh while casting your eyes around the room one last time. It’s just for one night.

“Y/N,” Minho gives your door a few knocks. “Are you asleep yet? I have something to tell you.”

You’re still halfway done with unpacking your stuff so you try to yell back without turning on your heels, “Not yet, just come in. I didn’t lock the door.”

He hums as a response before pushing against the wooden surface, closing it with a small ‘click’ after. “I just ran into the mayor downstairs,” Minho starts speaking and that’s when you finish putting your sword away, turning to look at him. And your cheeks inevitably grow hot since the first thing you have to lay your poor eyes on is his collarbones. This bastard really has the audacity to keep his buttons anywhere but a degree of appropriation. 

“Hey, focus,” he snaps his fingers as an attempt to knock you out of your trance, not noticing how he’s obviously the distraction. “It took an hour for him after rambling about his childhood and his love for the village to finally spill something about the kind of crystal that we need. At least pretend like you’re paying attention, will you?”

“I was paying attention,” you mumble loud enough for yourself to hear it. What a white lie. 

Minho quirks a brow and leans himself against the wall, looking amused, “Hmm, sure you did. Now, where were we? Ah! The mayor said those things aren't very hard to find, the only problem is that the field where they grow is right in front of a dragon’s den. No one has ever made it back in one piece. Chances are there might be other random monsters on the way…” 

Suddenly he stops talking, confusing you. “What’s wrong-“

The stiff look on his face seals your lips almost immediately. Faster than a lightning bolt, Minho turns the doorknob and rushes outside. “Who’s there?!” he snaps at the hooded figure running towards the end of the dark hallway, reaching for the sword on his back only to realize it’s not there. “Shit, this isn’t good.”

“Someone was eavesdropping. We’ve got ourselves a spy.” You close the door again after Minho walks inside, facepalming himself onto your bed dreadfully. 

He supports himself upward on his forearms and runs a hand through his hair, “Look, I’m not saying this because I’m doubting your abilities, I just want to guarantee your safety as much as I can. Their motives and patterns are getting pretty much unpredictable.” When he looks straight into your eyes with his warm, brown ones, your heart dips ever so gently. “Would you mind if I were to spend the night in your room?”

Your lips grow agape, your jaw almost drops to the floor. No one has ever asked to spend the night in the same room as you, not even Ryujin—your closest friend out of all the royal guards. Heck, you’ve barely known this man for a good three days yet why is it that your heart didn’t even hesitate? Are you scared? Most definitely not. Then what is it? What’s this weird, fuzzy feeling that’s been stirring inside your stomach for who knows how long?

“.....fine, but don’t try anything.”

Your heart is being weak again.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

You place your hands on either side of your hip when Minho comes back from his room with his pillows and blanket scattered all over the floor, organizing them neatly with his sword leaning against your nightstand. He flickers his eyes upward to look at your judgmental ones, slightly shaking from the cold and nervousness. “I’m getting comfortable?” he tells you, blinking innocently. 

Shaking your head at Minho, you snatch the pillow from his hands and situate it on your bed, right beside your own. “Hurry up now before I change my mind,” you decide after some time of consideration. The floor doesn’t look necessarily clean, and it’s not like Jisung would pack any extra clothes for him to change into. You’re just being nice like any normal, civil human being would. You’re sharing a bed with a stranger, nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Oh, I’m good,” Minho scratches his head with a sheepish smile. “The floor is fine for me.” Although the cheap material of the mattress does look more convincing than the hard, cement surface. 

You squint your eyes at him skeptically, “Are you sure?” He then puts his hands up in defeat as though you’re pointing a knife at his throat and motions for you to scoot over with a wave of his hand. You both shuffle around after he slips into the blanket with you, shifting until you’re facing the wall while Minho’s staring awkwardly at the front door. Well, this is kinda nice, he thinks to himself when your back brushes over his every now and then. 

“Uhh, sleep tight, I guess?” Minho says before leaning over the nightstand to blow out the candle. 

“Goodnight to you too,” you spew out your last words of the day, deciding to keep your lips close before you embarrass yourself any further. Okay...maybe one last thing before you completely pass out. “Uhm, Minho?”

He replies softly, “Yeah?” Seems like he can’t fall asleep either. 

Minho tosses himself over the moment you move your body and this causes your faces to be inches apart, his warm breath fanning your cheeks. Although you can’t see him clearly due to the limited source of light, those round eyes are definitely piercing right through you, leaving your heart pounding faster than usual. 

“Can you tell me…” you nibble on your bottom lip hesitantly. “What happened between you and Changbin? You guys weren’t being very civil for old friends.”

When he shifts slightly again to face the ceiling, his arm brushes against yours but he does nothing about it. He likes the lingering warmth from the tips of your fingers. 

You watch in awe as Minho stares up at nothing, broken bits of sadness floating softly inside his irises like an unwanted scar from his past; it’s tragically beautiful. “It was years ago when this whole monster hunting thing started,” he starts calmly, finding it hard to not look at you. “I wasn’t alone, Changbin was there with me too.”

Then, he continues, not knowing that you’re widening your eyes at him, “We were in an assault team, traveling all over the Continent and making a living out of slaying those creatures. We didn’t have much back then, but we had each other. Unfortunately, everyone has their own secrets despite our promise of not hiding anything from each other. Changbin was planning on leaving the group to go on a different path, and I...I would secretly sneak out alone every night, throwing myself into danger, thinking that I wasn’t good enough…Truth is, I was just being selfish.” His voice trails off, trembling as if each word pains him, like a thousand arrow wounds straight into his heart.

Bitter. Unforgiving. Pain. 

“I knew that I was lying to them, that I should just leave without saying anything,” Minho swallows hard like someone’s stepping on him, forcing air out of his lungs mercilessly. 

“But I never belonged anywhere, they were all that I had—my only family. I longed for that warmth, that feeling of being at ease so I just, I couldn’t leave. One day, we were hired to clear out a dungeon through an anonymous letter. It raised some skepticisms in my head since I’ve gone there before, there was nothing, no monsters, no nothing. Even so, I was held back by my own cowardice, I was afraid they might question me. I didn’t stop them when they accepted the job, it was good money.”

Your voice fails you when you open your mouth to say something, so you wordlessly slips your hand into his, hoping that you’ll be able to convey some of your heat to his cold fingers. As if feeling encouraged by your action, he doesn’t push you away and regains his composure. 

“Turns out, my intuitions were right, we got scammed,” Minho says. “A group full of criminals attacked, wanting to keep all of our money for their own. We cooperated and gave them everything, yet that wasn’t enough. They needed to seal our lips for good….Only Changbin and I made it out alive, three mobsters from the gang died under my blade that day. I confessed to Changbin later on, he didn’t forgive me. I couldn’t forgive myself either, the only family I’d ever have was gone, my arrogance and pride killed them.”

Silently, you pull him towards you, caressing the back of his head like he’s gonna fall apart the moment you let him go. Minho’s breath hitches in his throat as he sees you wear a smile on your face, your starry eyes twinkling when moonlight slips through the crack of the wood-lined window, pieces of glass chipping off on the edges. You’re breathtaking, unearthly. 

“I’m not going to die, I know that you’ll protect me just fine.” There’s a wide-eyed expression on his face, his lips falling open but his words die in his throat. A tear unknowingly rolls down on his cheek, consequently blurring his vision with waves of sadness that only the broken would encounter. You let him nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, his fists grabbing at your shirt until his knuckles turn white. 

Minho cries into your chest unceasingly, “I don’t have any real strength. Without my sword, without the anonymity that has been casting terror and curiosity on people, I’m just Lee Minho, the coward who only ever knows how to run away and hide behind the shadow of the Black Swordsman. Changbin was right, I don’t have any right to even think about protecting you.”

“My father used to tell me,” you stroke his hair gently as choked sobs punch through him, pulling him back from the opening arms of his grief. “Strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things.” 

He stops for a moment, nostalgia hurling him back to the memories of two decades ago when he was still just a boy, training hard with his wooden sword while someone watched him from afar, a pleased look lingering on their lips. Tears pool in his eyes again when that person’s face flashes inside his mind but the hollow space inside his heart isn’t the same, there’s a ray of joy that’s managed to make its way through a crack of his walls. 

“And I don’t care if you’re the Black Swordsman or not, I only know the cryptic-looking guy who crossed swords with me and wasn’t willing to back down that day. I knew, I just knew that even without a sword, you could have beaten me. Because fighting isn’t an obligation, it’s a choice. A choice whether you’re going to fight until the very end or not.”

His tears can’t extinguish what has happened, yet only carry him forward until a time comes when that searing pain is distant enough to forget rather than remembering. And maybe one day, it might erase itself from his conscience for good. So perhaps it’s not much of an oddity to thank the salty liquid streaming down on his cheekbones. They’re a living proof for his morality, a barrier to save him from becoming a monster—indifferent to suffering and sorrow. 

Minho sees the fatherly smile on his mentor’s face, just like the old days. And then he sees you through his blurred vision, momentarily breathless at how close you are. 

“After all, I have a promise to keep,” you tell him but it comes out more like a reminder for yourself. “I won’t let you die even when I’m no longer capable of picking up my sword and I mean it. As vice commander of the royal guards, you have my words, Lee Minho.”

An ignited desire wells up at the bottom of his heart, and it baffles him. Lee Minho, a coward who’s willing to turn his back on everyone just so he alone can exist. A bastard who betrayed his only friends, who didn’t even try to plead for forgiveness, who coldly walked away from those painful memories. Such a self-absorbed being like him doesn’t deserve a simple ally, let alone something much more intimate than that.

Then he starts to remember why he’s here, with you. Your smile. Your voice. Memories are flooding back into his head about this girl who made her way into his life abruptly yet so easily. And before he knows it, she’s all that’s on his mind. 

So instead of giving in to his nightmares like he would every other night, Minho stops reminiscing his bloodied past, surrendering under the sense of familiarity radiating off your touch.

seven.

You both stand in awe as the great mountains loom before your eyes, cold grey crevices holding the blood of the fallen. While the lower passes wear a cloak of greenery, the peaks are crowned with a headdress of ice. As though the earth has a pulse, it rises through the mountains, creating their bold silhouette. From carved rocky outcrops, waterfalls drifting like skeins of white lawn, and in the fields, you can see the amber glint of the rivers and the occasional mirror-like flash of the lake. 

The mountains soar upward like they wish to plant a soft kiss on heaven, wanting to have a taste of the horizon all around. The path ahead winds as effortlessly as a blanket laid on a bed, yet each step feels heavier than the previous one, draining your energy. It only gets steeper and narrower as you make your way closer to the top, but giving up is not an option. You’re willing to go to the other side of the world barefooted, searching for every corner, every edge of this planet if it means bringing your brother back. 

A gust of wind howls in the distance, piling up snow in drifts, blinding your eyesight with ice-white dust. You try walking, bending over against the cold, protecting your eyes with your clothed forearms. Everything looms into your vision before vanishing completely, swallowed in white. “Minho?” you call out to him after a few minutes of not looking forward, waving one of your hands around until it can feel something. 

Another hand reaches for yours, and you snap out of your daze when the coldness on the tips of his fingers is clasped against your palm. “You’re as slow as a baby turtle,” he comments lamely while staring ahead, not letting you see the coral shade scattered across his cheeks. “Let’s just hurry up and get back, I’m hungry.” 

Breath pale against the numbing air, you blink thoughtfully while gazing down at the sight of his fingers being intertwined with yours as the frost patiently kisses your face. He’s still wearing the same old pair of fingerless gloves, no wonder his hands are freezing. But you suppose it’s because he doesn’t want the grip on his sword to slip. 

“Oh, I actually have something for us to eat,” you retract your hand to fish it inside your bag, already missing his warmth. “I guess we should have lunch, either way, we’ve been walking before the sun even rose.”

Minho makes a noise of confusion before bringing his steps to a halt, turning his head to see you pull out something being wrapped neatly in paper, giving it a slight jerk towards his direction when he continues to stare at you blankly. Wordlessly, he takes it and sighs, eyes widening when the smell of grilled meat invaded his nostrils. Inside the wrapper is a sandwich made from thinly sliced bread, generously stuffed with meat and vegetables. The peppery aroma inevitably makes his stomach rumble and without another word, Minho chomps on his lunch portion like a hungry child; the sandwich is long gone before he realizes it. 

“It’s...good,” he licks his lips to clean up the remaining sauce in the corners of his mouth. It doesn’t look any different from the ones he’s seen inside restaurants but the taste is what reminds him of something he ate as a kid, he almost teared up while inhaling it. “Where did you buy this? I’ll make sure to pass by the place when we get back.”

“I didn’t buy it,” you stride ahead of him to hide the giddiness in your stomach. “I made it yesterday at Jisung’s place. That’s why the bread got a little soggy if you couldn’t tell already.”

Minho fixes his collar and his hearty laughs echoes through your eardrums, stirring up feelings inside your stomach unabating. “You would make a fortune out of these,” he tells you while trying to catch up, following your steps in a hassle. “But now that I‘m thinking about it again, you shouldn’t do that, I’d hate to see people getting to enjoy the same food as me with some cheap units.”

You blush (out of anger) at his statement and attempt to cover it up by stepping onto his toes. This causes him to yelp while stumbling backward, almost falling onto his bottom. “Why did you feel the need to do that?!”

“I can just make you more if you like it that much, you jerk,” you murmur mostly to yourself but he hears it nonetheless. 

A smile makes its way to his lips, and a fuzzy feeling bubbles up inside his stomach. He’s not sure what it is, but he’s not complaining, really. It’d be nice if he could have the same delicious meals when he’d retired, dozing off while watching the sunset with his significant other and his own kids in his arms. It’d be nice if he could have a place to come back to when he needs a break, a shoulder to lean on and someone to tuck him into bed. It’d be nice if… He looks at you again after those shameless thoughts and immediately, embarrassment dusts his cheeks pink. His face feels hot despite the puffs of cold air escaping his lips. 

“Hey,” Minho pulls you to a stop by the hand, suddenly giving it a squeeze. “I just wanted to say thank you…” A glint of anticipation gleams in your gaze when you both lock eyes, prompting him to look away. “Thank you, for...the meal, it was nice. I might as well bother you a little longer to eat more good food.” Lee Minho you coward. 

“Do you only think about your stomach?“ you almost gawk at him, raising your hand to give him a slap in the face but Minho grabs your hand before you can do so. The next thing you know, his other hand is on the top of your head, ruffling your hair in a playful manner. 

He tells you and trudges on, grinning to himself, “Let’s get moving, we’re wasting time.”

“....Minho?”

“Hmm?” he turns around with a lovesick smile on his face but that’s not what you’re paying attention to.

“You might want to look out for that…”

“For what-“ 

Minho swallows heavily when he sees an enormous figure overhanging his shadow on the white snow. Slowly, his gaze follows the sound of faint yet sturdy footsteps and he holds his breath, eyes twice as white as before. 

“Just to be clear…” he asks breathlessly. “Dragons are nocturnal, right?”

“Correct,” you subconsciously take a step back. “And we might have woken it up.”

Minho takes notice in the thick stripe of black streaking down on one of its claws, and his face morphs into a frown when his surroundings reek off the smell of fresh blood. “No, someone else did.”

The dragon’s scales gleam dashingly in the sunlight, they are its pride and delight, violet streaks blending into a deep blue at the end. Its teeth so cold and sharp like icicles, they can easily rip any armors into mere ribbons of skin and bones. In its chest holds a hearth of ever flickering flame although the remorseless heart remains rime. Eyes with a shade of crimson as deep as the liquid that’s coursing through your veins, nourishing you; those eyes are seemingly endless pools of wisdom and intelligence.

But once those red pupils dilate and focus on the two mundane mortals before themselves, a glint of gold is suddenly evident, almost alarmed. The dragon takes off into the air with its wings stretched leathery like a bat, sending a small snowstorm flying towards the both of you. Minho squints his eyes hard while you’re shielding your vision with your forearms, coats fluttering as wind whistles into your ears.

Minho calmly takes a step forward, flashing you a smile sideways. What is he doing? 

Then, he spares you one last glance before drawing his sword. As though triggered by the sound of metal scraping against the leather sheath, the dragon flaps its majestic wings and inhales, heaps of glowing embers come swirling in midair, twirling towards Minho with a fiery dance. He’s just simply there, feet planted firmly on the ground as though challenging the creature’s deadly breath. 

“Minho, what are you doing?!” you yell at him, trying to keep your balance as the ground begins to tremble. “Get out of there!!”

Pretending not to listen to your warnings, Minho gets into his stance, blade angling low with his knees. What happens next downright baffles you. The blade of his sword glimmers with a shade of purple, his feet taking off towards the plume of fire that soon engulfs his figure completely in your vision. 

You squeeze your eyes shut not just because of the heat but also because you can’t bring yourself to see it. Once the air around you cools off, your eyes flutter open again to see Minho angling his head over his shoulder, throwing you a wink in the process. Did he just counter a dragon’s breath with his sword?

“Chaeryeong taught me that. Neat trick, isn’t it?” he says with a grin while you’re blinking at him in utter shock; he looks almost proud of successfully deflecting that breath attack. “I use magic more often than you’d think. Nothing major, only the basic things. Enough to keep me alive.”

“I still think we need to run first.”

Minho looks at you dejectedly, “Don’t you have a better plan?”

With a howl as loud as any sky-born thunder, the dragon flaps its wings more vigorously this time, flinging the layer of snow under your feet into a blizzard—a swirling storm of screaming silver, a primal force than conquers until its core explodes. Everything around you is almost white-out as you bat your hands around helplessly in the middle of this snowstorm. After a while, you can no longer feel your legs, it’s like the storm just sweeps you off your feet. You’re not sure if it’s because of the cold or-

What the…?

You widen your eyes in a panic; you’re falling. Your perception of time distorts, your surroundings slow down until there’s nothing, only you, the sky above, and a hole that’s only a few hundred feet away from where you were standing previously. Your hand reaches out to the canvas above, grasping the endless crevasse of blue. 

Everything’s a blur, a blur that swirls out of existence. Suspended in the air for a few seconds, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, letting your tense muscles relax. You won’t die from the fall since there’s a likelihood that snow’s already covered the pit. But you can’t just let yourself fall freely, that would cause minor, unnecessary injuries. So you reach for your sword, planning to jab it against the rocky surface as an attempt to go against gravity. 

Once the metal comes in contact with the side of the pit, tiny flares of fire flutter in the air as if the sword is being sharpened by a blacksmith, an ear-piercing sound hisses against your eardrums. The stab is strong enough to slow gravity down from pulling you downward any faster but it’s not enough to make you stop completely. 

Chan, you think while screwing your eyes shut, every cell inside your body is shaking, every muscle is aching. You can’t give up now, not when you’re still in one piece, and Chan’s hanging on the edge of not getting his old life back. You can’t give up not knowing who’s the culprit, not just yet. 

And you’d rather be cursed than making out of this place alive and leaving Minho behind. Your conscience won’t ever forgive you. 

When that thought crosses your mind, you grit your teeth and suddenly the sword stops sliding down, leaving you dangling midair on one arm. The rapier is too slender, it won’t hold on for long, and it’s not like you can climb all the way up to the top. 

A mighty, fearsome roar blares through your brain like wildfire so you flutter your eyes upward to see the dragon with its wings folded on both sides, diving at an immaculate speed into the hole, in your direction. 

There’s my ride. 

eight.

Once the blizzard settles down, the setting sun comes with a sky of fire, the orange of every wintry hearth. The color stretches far and wide along the horizon like a reflection of the dawn that comes after the velvety night. 

That’s when Minho sees them. 

The crystals have grown as something alive may do, thriving over the ages, through many generations. As such they become a rainbow sea made of perfect rocks, the shoreline ever-present and still with colors that shine in the brilliant light of a richness that only nature can bring. Minho might feel bad when he snaps off a piece, it’s like cutting a single, healthy rose in the middle of the thorny garden. But if it’s for Chan, he’s certain that you’d do anything at any cost. 

Minho sheaths his sword and sighs, turning around, “Y/N are you okay?” All that he’s met with is a muffled silence, the cold wind whistling into his ears, the hollow space before his eyes white-out and empty.

“Y/N?” Nothing. 

“Y/N!!” No one answers. “Y/N!!!”

No, he lets out a choked whimper. No, no, no.

His legs tremble inside his boots, his lips quivering, his fists clenched, his fingers turning cold. And the thing that terrifies him most? His heart feels like someone is grasping on it so tightly as though they’re going to crush it with their bare hands. 

A seed of fear suddenly grows inside his rib cage, thriving at an abrupt pace, branching out, gripping onto every cell, every muscle inside his body. He can’t breathe. This can’t be it, he tells himself, tumbling backward a bit. He promised not to let this happen. He swore. Yet his biggest nightmare is only one step away from becoming a reality. 

Minho wants to cry your name aloud over and over again until his vocal cords are torn apart, he wants to be vulnerable for once and let himself fall. How is he going to face Chan? And Changbin? And his own conscience? He might as well run his own sword through his heart because what would be the point in living if you’re no longer here?

All of this was a grave mistake. If only he didn’t throw the dart. If only you didn’t come with him. None of this would have happened. None of this would have happened if he didn’t accept that damned offer. He could have easily flipped you off the second that duel was finished and gone on this trip by himself. And face the scythe of Death alone, by himself, like he always does. He should have died alone, he deserves to die alone. 

But this time, he didn’t make the right decision and the consequences are horrendous. He gave in because of your stubbornness, your determination, your bossy nature. He let you in and his walls came down tumbling one by one, his stern and trained facade shredded into pieces. His head is a mess whenever he sees your smile, his heart can permit you to tread on his boring life. And because of those merely unguarded moments, he’s killed another person that he truly cares about other than himself.

Wait, something clicks inside his head. He almost forgets the most important thing of all. The culprit. 

Minho regains his composure and snaps his head back towards the crystals. The sun might be going down but its limited source of light is more than adequate to cast a shadow onto the snowy white surface. The shadow of a person, a person that’s not you. The shadow that sets a silent inferno inside his chest, the flame spreading by the ticking second. 

“I have been waiting for you,” he turns on his heels, reaching for the hilt of his sword. “Hwang Hyunjin.”

The shadow visibly flinches before stepping out, a hand outstretching from the black cloak to pull down the hood. When Hyunjin’s face comes into view, Minho’s muscles tense up, anguish making his head a little dizzy. But he maintains his cold front, not letting his opponent see how much this is affecting him. 

“I’ve got a feeling that you’d already figured it out the moment I visited the cabin,” Hyunjin says slyly, his facial expression rather relaxed. “And I was so close to silencing you little errand boy for good too, but I’ll admit, the little brat is well trained, he ran off before I could catch him. So tell me, Black Swordsman, where did I slip?”

“Your eyes,” Minho grits. “They weren’t staring at Chan with what’s supposed to be concern or relief. You were looking at him like a predator watching its prey from afar. If I weren’t keeping an eye on you, who knows what you would have done to him. He didn’t sound pleased when you touched him either.”

Hyunjin drops his cloak to the ground, laughing under his breath, “You are sharper than I’d expected.” He takes a few steps closer forward, craning his neck tiredly before drawing his sword, causing Minho to do the same. “Now, now, vice commander, an innocent man is about to be killed because of you.”

Minho can only snicker at the statement, “I’m not planning on going down easily.”

“So am I,” Hyunjin gets ready in his stance, glaring at his opponent. “I wasn’t really planning on dealing with you. I would rather end her and let you take the blame. Actually, that sounds like a better plan! Don’t you agree? No one would put their trust in you—a low, damned being who lives off the upper classes’ bloodied pennies.”

With his blood boiling hot, Minho inhales and exhales deeply to keep his voice calm. “End her?” he repeats after the guard. End her. Hyunjin hasn’t made a single move yet he feels like someone just stabbed him in the gut. How could he?! You trusted Hyunjin, you went through so much with him, you trained him. And now he’s just going to turn around and bite the hand that fed him? Traitor. “Over my dead body.” 

Hyunjin lunges forward, his feet sprinting quickly and he brings his blade up from a lower angle while Minho attempts to clash him from the head down. Both of their swords get knocked away on different sides from the harsh contact. Before Hyunjin can raise his weapon again, Minho sword slices at him sideways but he luckily deflects it in time—the reflexes and muscle memories from his training are kicking in. 

“Why are you doing this? Aren’t you her friend?”

Minho’s sword aims for his head once again; however, Hyunjin steps to the side and makes a grab for his hand, holding his weapon down. This makes Minho lose his balance for a few seconds while Hyunjin tries to cleave his neck. He stumbles on his heels at the last second, only getting away with a small cut on his cheekbone. The pain isn’t even there, he’s been beaten up ten times worse before, this is nothing. He’s practically numb by now. 

“Friend?” Hyunjin drags his sword against the ground before bringing it up to stop a slash at his chest, throwing snow into Minho’s eyes. He groans agonizingly when the white matters’ coldness burns his skin, blurring his vision. “She and Chan only care about themselves! They are the ones who get all the praises and recognition after a mission. Little rumps like me and Changbin?”

He angrily tightens the grip on his weapon, dragging a long slice downward, “We didn’t have any title, we’re merely just two faces amongst a hundred of the other guards. We get treated like we don’t even exist!”

“Did Y/N ever treat you that way? And Chan too?” Minho heaves after dodging the blow by rolling on the ground. He’s circling around the guard, trying to keep his mind clear. “From what I’ve seen, she seems to care about you and Changbin as much as she does about her brother. 

Hyunjin swings his sword at him, and Minho receives the hit with the edge of his blade. The sound of metal scraping against each other is pricking at his eardrums but he can care less, he won’t be dying today. “So you can break my soul,” Minho pants before both of them stagger backward, switching their initial position. “Take everything away from me.”

“Beat me up.” Another blocked blow. 

“Tear me into pieces.” Anger almost tears through his mind again. Anger towards Hyunjin for betraying Chan, you, and his entire team. Anger for falling into his trap. Anger for not being able to keep you safe. He wishes he could just unleash all of his hatred and rage on the guard. But what can he do? He’s one to blame too, after all. 

“Or kill me, even.”

Hyunjin catches up to Minho when he starts sprinting away to regain his vision, the two of them running side by side, in between the lined up crystals. Thrusting his sword at Minho in various directions, Hyunjin’s stabs are getting messy because of the limited amount of space. 

“But I will tell you something, you’d better listen to me and listen to me for good.” Minho’s sword strikes at him but he blocks it in time, their faces inches apart and their weapons threatening to snap each other into half. 

“Touch Y/N.” A low grunt escapes Hyunjin’s lips when Minho jabs his fist against his stomach, forcing air out from his lungs. “And I am going to give you a taste of hell. I have been there before, and you know what? You would be begging me for a painless death by then.”

When the guard falls onto his knees, his weapon dropping by his side with a loud clangor, Minho directs the tip of his sword on top of Hyunjin’s head. “Think about it again, do you think that all of this is really worth it?”

A sinister laugh echoed through his ears and Minho’s eyes grow alarmed when the blood trickled down on his cheek starts to harden a little. No, something’s wrong. “You spoke too soon,” Hyunjin tells him with a devilish tone, the corners of his lips being tugged up into a smirk. 

What is this? On the tip of his fingers reveals a dark shade of blue, it almost reminds him of the royal guards’ uniform. Suddenly his body collapses, he can’t feel his muscles, he can do nothing. His sword is so far away from his grip, he can’t even move his fingers. Paralytic poison. “You bastard!”

Hyunjin pushes himself off the ground, holding his sword by the hilt when the tip is faced downward. “I suppose this is the end. Our encounter is rather short but it was a pleasure to cross swords with the infamous Black Swordsman,” he raises it, chuckling. “Goodbye, Lee Minho.”

Minho locks his jaw, his muscles tense but he can’t move, his eyes are shut while he braces himself for the contact. But it never comes. A growl as loud and frightening as a clap of thunder rumbles through the sky and that’s when Minho opens his eyes to see the shadow of a dragon flying not too high above. Next thing he knows, a figure jumps off, falling rapidly like a lightning bolt. 

Your foot slams onto Hyunjin’s shoulder, causing him to fall back while you land on the ground safely. Before he can register the situation, your rapier is drawn to yank his long sword away. “Hyunjin?” you grit with tears brimming in your eyes. “Why?”

Hyunjin doesn’t respond, instead, he takes a few strides towards you wordlessly. You don’t raise your weapon nor retreat it, simply keeping it limp by your side. But he lifts the blade of your sword with his hands and swiftly runs it through his stomach, blood splattering everywhere. His arms are weak, yet he still tries to put one of them around your back, pulling you closer and leaning his head on your shoulder. “Congratulations, vice commander,” he taunts into your ear. 

“You’re a murderer.”

nine.

Chan finds himself waking up on a plain bed, a white blanket draped over him, and a cold towel on his head. All the mayhem from the past week comes crashing down on him like a tsunami, banging against his temple. He tries to push himself up but his limbs are too wobbly—it feels foreign, it’s like he’s inside someone else’s body and not his own. With every move, his head pulses in agony, and his muscles ache.

The pain stops when he sees you sleeping soundly against his bed, your head rested on your forearms. Another figure is present too, on the couch staring blankly at the flickering fireplace. Opening his mouth to speak, Chan scrunches his nose in pain as he accidentally strains his vocal cords but no words come out, only incoherent sounds. 

“...Chan?” you rub the sleep away from your eyes, yawning tiredly. 

“Ah..ah..ah,” Chan can only lift his arms, calling out to you in desperation. His eyes grow stingy at the sound of your voice and before he knows it, tears are already rolling down in his cheeks relentlessly. 

“Chan, it’s alright,” you hush him softly, slipping your arms around him and holding him tight. “Everything’s fine now, you’re safe. You’ve done enough.” You bury your face into the crook of his neck, that way he won’t be able to see your glassy eyes. This isn’t the time to cry in front of him. 

The door closes with a sharp thud.

Chan only convinces himself that he’s still alive, and back to his human form, not being buried six feet under the ground somewhere when your fingers graze the dull lines that his tears leave behind. A sense of relief washes over him the moment he sees your smile, though insomnia has been carved into your features over time. You’re safe, he closes his eyes. You’re not hurt. 

That’s all that matters. 

“Wait for me here, I’ll call Yeji in,” you give his hands one last squeeze. Chan pulls you back for a second there, a faint frown adorns his face. “Just leave the rest to me, we’re going to be alright.” 

With Chan’s weak smile as an approval, you dash outside, finding Minho standing like a soulless being at the front door of the cabin. He can’t bring himself to face you after what he did. His body is tired, his mind is a mess, and his heart is filled with sorrow. Even his sword seems too heavy for his existence, it’s weighing him down, making him not be able to move. 

“This was all my fault, wasn’t it?”

You don’t answer him and instead outstretch your hand, letting your fingers tug at the sheath of his sword. “Minho, it’s no one’s fault,” you mumble with your head hung low. “I dragged you into this. If anything, I’m the one to blame.”

“No!” His sudden outburst makes you flinch; hence you pull your hand back with a wide-eyed expression on your face. “If I hadn’t thrown that dart, we wouldn’t have met. If you hadn’t followed me on the trip, nothing would have happened! None of this would have happened! You almost died back there, Y/N. Do you know how much it scared me?”

“So you’re just going to leave me like this?” you raise your voice, trying not to snap at him. “After everything, you’re still going to turn away from me? Just like how you did to everyone else?”

“I-“ 

“Lee Minho, if you claimed to care about me so much-”

“I should stay away from you, I will only cause you more trouble. Even worse, I will get you in danger. I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to you.” His heart clenches at his own words as his shoulders shake, arms tense on his sides. 

You reach for his hand, and huff in determination, “Stick to your words and protect me then.”

ten.

It’s been a week since the incident happened. Hyunjin has managed to live after the fight, yet he wants to keep his lips sealed for a while as to why he intended to harm the commander of his team in the first place. For now, he’s being kept in the dungeon while the king and queen permit you to do whatever. After all, he didn’t cause the kingdom any trouble. And if you were being honest, you would forgive Hyunjin without a second thought just so things can be normal again. It’s not as easy as you’d hoped. 

Minho, on the other hand, has been praised tremendously by everyone in court for what he did. His name has been cleansed and every flighty rumor or gossip about him has been cleared out. He doesn’t like this at all, journalists are starting to snoop around Jisung’s place, leaving him no choice but to stay at Yeji’s log house for some time. His reputation was what used to keep him safe, now everything’s being flipped upside down. 

He stares at his own reflection in the mirror from across the room. Minho can’t tell if it’s because he’s only worn the color black for the longest time or he’s being irrational, but he thinks the white loose shirt and matching pants that the mage brought back last night from the castle just don’t look right. Is his own moniker messing with his head? Probably. 

Glancing sideways to catch a glimpse of his sword on his bed, he exhales dejectedly. I look like a joke, Minho thinks to himself. 

“I never knew the Black Swordsman would look this dashing in white,” Chan enters his room with a dimpled smile on his face, Changbin following him suit. He’s recovering from the past week of living his life as a wolf, it’s still quite hard for Chan to walk so Yeji forced him to use a wheelchair for the time being. 

“Don’t you guys have any clothes that aren’t so flashy?” Minho cracks a crooked smile, feeling unfamiliar being dressed in such a bright color. “I look ridiculous.”

Chan chuckles wholeheartedly and shakes his head, “Actually, that’s one of our less flashy ones. Don’t worry, you look great.”

“Why are you here, anyway?” Minho’s question isn’t necessarily directed towards Chan, but rather the person standing behind him. “If you want to curse me for the things I’ve done, then fine, I accept it. I will leave Kalmburg and move to the other side of the Continent. You’ll never have to see me again.”

Changbin steps forward, and with a deep breath, he says, “Thank you, Minho.” 

Minho can’t believe his ears, did he just—

“Thank you,” Changbin says again; this time more firmly, and the look in his eyes softening. In those brown orbs, Minho can once again see the look he used to be met with five years ago, no hatred or anger, just warmth. He missed this. A ‘thank you’ has never sounded so nerve-calming before. It’s genuine, it’s real. Heartwarming, almost. 

“When you told me that you would protect her,” Changbin continues, gaze cast downward. “I almost believed you, I knew you weren’t lying. It felt like that day after we both got out of the dungeon all over again. My anger always got the best of me and I just burst. I never gave you the chance to explain yourself, I never got to know your reasons. I am sorry because I didn’t care about you enough, as a friend.”

“I am sorry too,” Minho rises from his seat on the bed, suppressing the happiness inside his ribcage. “I’m sorry I bailed on you that day, I think about it all the time.”

He pauses for a moment and sees Changbin outstretching his hand, the familiar broad smile dancing on his lips. Minho accepts his friend’s warm handshake and reciprocates his grin. “You’d better stay alive first before apologizing.”

Minho widens his eyes, “Of course I am alive!”

“No, I mean,” Changbin waves his hand dismissively. “I was going to ask you to join us since there’s a good chance that His Majesty won’t turn you down, but then I’d figure, you’re too reckless for us to handle either way. So if you’re planning on going out here and throwing yourself at monsters, you’d better stay safe or I wouldn’t forgive you again. And Y/N would never forgive herself.”

Chan eyes the small box sitting neatly on Minho’s nightstand, and teases, “Speaking of Y/N, when will you tell her?”

Minho scratches the nape of his neck with glowing cheeks, he can physically feel the pink tint darkening by the second. “I don’t know, but soon. I still need to have his permission first,” he leans over to take the box in his palm, opening it carefully. 

The sight of the silver band resting nicely inside makes his chest swell, his beating heart doing its best to not implode from joy. It might be too early, but he’s scared that if he doesn’t do this now, fate is going to be one step ahead and take you away from him forever. 

“Minho!” Yeji calls out to him from behind the door. “Y/N’s here!”

“I wish the best of luck for you then,” Chan tosses a wink in his direction.

eleven.

“No one asked you to come, Han.” Is the first thing Minho spats out when he closes the front door with his bag slung over his shoulder. Jisung’s welcoming grin falls flat on his face at his friend’s cold remark. He really should have got used to these things by now. 

“I did,” you tell him with crossed arms, releasing your grip on Noir’s reign. “Yeji said she’s running low on some herbs so I introduced her to Jisung’s place.”

Minho rolls his eyes to the moon. “Aren’t there more trust-worthy stores for the royal mage? Why would you refer her to that dingy dumpster?” And this statement prompts Jisung to give his knee a harsh kick followed by a mere glare from the younger boy. 

“I actually like his place, it’s cute,” you scoff. He’s just acting out since Jisung always shows up unannounced. 

“Why? It’s a rip-off.”

“Minho, you were living there for free!”

“I’m going to leave you two love birds alone now,” Jisung pushes past you to shoot Minho a mischievous smirk, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t do anything weird to her or Chan is going to cut your arms off.” Actually, you’re fully capable of cutting his arms off yourself if he dared think about doing something damned. The swordsmanship runs in the family after all. 

Your face morphs into a frown when Jisung finally enters the cabin, your head tilted to the side in confusion. “What is he talking about?” you ask but brush it off nonetheless; it’s Jisung, you can’t expect anything less from him. “Forget it, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Minho answers while petting Noir, your horse nudges her nose against his face in return—she’s always been keen on seeing him since day one. “How is your father these days? Last time I’d asked, you told me that he’d retired.”

You nod, resting your palm on the hilt of your sword, “He’s good. He said he’s already too old to train soldiers and he’d rather stay at home. Though he’s getting bored these days since there’s not much to do anymore. He’ll find a new hobby soon enough, he will need to take a break from everything eventually. Father has never let himself rest after our mother passed away, constant work distracts him.”

Minho hears you let out a small sigh and takes another step, his hands finding their way towards yours, collecting your fingers between his, giving them a firm squeeze. 

You give in after a few moments to face him completely, concern is flashing in his eyes while a small smile blooms on his lips. He looks a little tired, probably didn’t get any sleep for the past few days while you’re resolving all the problems in court. Minho never fails to stun you nonetheless, from the curve of his lips to the fullness of his eyelashes and the adoration in his warm eyes for you and only you; they make you feel at ease. 

“Like father, like daughter,” he brushes a strand of hair away from your face and jokes. “You’d better be eating well and getting enough sleep, vice commander.”

You snicker, “Speak for yourself, Black Swordsman, you look terrible.” That’s a lie, he looks absolutely wondrous it’s unfair. 

“I like this color on you,” you giggle after noticing his appearance today. They really don’t have any dark-colored pieces of clothing in the castle. “Look, we’re matching. You’re just not matching with your sword anymore.”

“Y/N.” The merry tone in his voice suddenly drops and Minho looks away, his muscles loosening. “Can I ask you something? But I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

You’re suddenly worried. “What’s wrong?”

“On the day that the incident happened….,” he trails off nervously. “Why didn’t you run away? You could have just left me there and got home safely. There will always be another way to help Chan. The chances of surviving that fight were too slim, there’s no telling what would happen. Why would you—”

“Lee Minho, are you even hearing yourself right now?” you cup his cheeks so that he’ll look at you. “Are you assuming I’m some sort of lowly being who will run away while their partner is in danger? I’d rather die with someone than let that person die in front of my eyes. Especially when it’s you! I would never forgive myself if I ever did that to you. So why are you saying such things?”

Minho reaches for your hand and melts into your touch, exhaling heavily. 

“I don’t know...I’m sorry I think I’m losing my mind. After everything, I’m scared that I might lose you. All I want to do is run away with you, from all of this, from everything. We can live together in someplace far away, where no one can find us,” he clenches his eyes shut. 

“I just- I don’t want you to be in love with someone who always has hell hanging by his doorstep, who gets his hands bloodied for a living, who—“

You place your index finger on his lips and shake your head. “Do you even know who I am in love with? Hm?” you question. 

“I’m in love with the most caring, kindhearted man that the world could ever ask for. Whose heart is so warm and fragile, he’s afraid to let anyone in because of his tough past. Whose will is so unwavering he didn’t even think twice about fighting off a dragon alone. But what makes me fall so stupidly for him, is the fact that despite his wounds and scars, he’d always prioritize other people’s needs before his own. Because he’d rather believe and regret than doubt and regret.”

“Y-You’re in love with me?” he studies your delicate feature in the daylight, his heart going on a rampage. 

You chuckle to yourself, “Yes, more than I should be because you’re a pain in the-“

Minho presses his lips against yours and inhales every word, sealing the nagging in until you respond to the kiss. Your hands find their way up to his soft hair, weaving themselves into the dark locks and dropping to caress his face after. He latches his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his so he can have more control of your movements. You’re drowning in his existence as he tugs and nibs at your bottom lip, trailing small kisses down your jawline before pulling away completely. 

“I guess this means you’re in love with me too?” you ask to distract yourself from the heat that’s flaring through your nostrils, setting your heart on fire. 

Your question has him stop for less than a moment, realizing that maybe he is in love with you as much as you are with him. And maybe you want him just as much as he wants you too. 

 He nods curtly, breath shaking, “Yes, yes I am.”

For the longest time, Minho used to forbid himself to cry, smile, and laugh like any sane human being would, as he thinks expressing his emotions is being strong, is protecting himself. But in reality, he’s just running away from his own problems instead of finding ways to solve them. 

Now, he will let himself fall, he will let himself cripple, he will let his tears run freely for strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things. He will fight for what he believes in, protect what he cares about and run on his bare feet through the entire galaxy if it means he gets to see you at the end of it, if it means you can dive into his arms, safe and sound. 

Then, Minho thinks of what’s inside the little box, making the thing thundering inside his chest skip a beat. “Will you stay by my side forever?” he blinks. 

“Is that even a question?” you convey between labored pants. “Even if fate pulls you to the other side of the universe, I will find you, do you hear me? I will find you and fall in love with you all over again.”

“Very well then,” he holds you by the shoulders; the eagerness in his eyes lights up a curiosity inside you. “Y/N, let’s..” But it’s gone before you can even register. “Let’s get going, we’re going to be late.” It’s not quite the right time yet. He still needs to meet someone before tying you up with him for eternity. 

Because Minho too, will always find you and fall in love with you all over again. If fate has a problem with that, then he won’t be giving a damn.