#suddenly overtaken by the urge to draw more of them as kids

[brainrotisseriechicken]

Give Francis/Clef a cat

+ clefdraki u didnt ask for ....my apologies. also they're Small

[fullbusterfantasmic]

Love Potion ♋️ Chapter 4.7

Rated M

It’s all NSFW (As it should be)

1,933 words

A/N: The first position mentioned is called the butterfly or some shit (maybe?) idfk but I like it, & the second is the reverse cowgirl. Formatting is wonky, I know please look past it.

🌬Gray’s POV

The shine her eyes had held has begun to rapidly be overtaken as the (e/c) darkens, while she beckons me closer.

Her mouth is right beside my ear as she says;

“Ravish me...lay your claim on me...let every touch from you send me reeling, and begging for more...show me everything you’ve imagined doing to me and lastly...share every feeling you’ve kept hidden from me”.

The intense requests she made ignites a fire somewhere within me. Flames are rapidly consuming the protective layers of ice I’d long ago placed over my heart. Barriers erected after Deliora’s first attack, reinforced following the death of Ur...gone in an instant. Her tongue runs along the outer shell of my ear, lips placing a kiss to my temple. Pulling away, she then collapses back onto the pillows behind her, now surveying me through darkened, heavily lidded eyes.

My teeth clench as the familiar darkness begins to surface and my internal struggle begins. She asked for it....so why not give it to her? I shouldn’t...I....I’m ready to...no I NEED to let her in that now open space within my heart, within my very barren soul.

You don’t know what you do to me...

✨Your Pov

Im nervous...

I may have asked too much, it was too soon for me to come on so strongly! He still has yet to look at me, and his long bangs obscure his eyes from view.

“Gray I-“

I began to try and retract my previous statement but he interupts me. “From the very first moment I laid eyes on you I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen....and the most dangerous...” he moves out from between my legs, motioning for me to lay on my side. “ I knew if I got close to you I’d end up falling for you and that would put you at risk...”. One of his legs now rest underneath mine and my other rests over the top of his.

“Try as I might, I couldn’t force myself to get or stay away from you; somehow we always end up spending time together” he pauses, pressing a kiss to my temple before continuing; “ -and now we’re here...”.

The room is growing colder once more, goosebumps cover my exposed flesh and I lightly begin to shiver. My entire body is shaking by the time his voice reaches my ear; “With all that being said...I’m done explaining myself, and I’m done talking”.

“Now I’m going to fuck you senseless, this entire town will know you’re mine by sunrise” The vow is whispered to me in such an intimate way, it has my internal walls fluttering, before clenching around nothing. That is soon remedied; A surprised turned pleasurable cry slips out from between my lips as Gray effortlessly slides into me.

This position is a first for me, and experiencing it with this god like man...Said position has quickly become a “10 out of 10, must do again”. He holds my body so closely against his, and somehow those skilled fingers are still roaming up and down my sides. Occasionally pausing their ministrations to ghost across my chest or rub tantalizing circles Into my clit. The angle in which he thrusts into me puts the head of his cock in the perfect position to hit my G-spot each and every time he bottoms out.

The whole “I’m finished talking now” line was absolute bullshit! As soon the smug Ice mage was balls deep inside me, did the sinful whispers begin. Dear God! That deep husky voice alternating between uttering the most endearing things, having my eyes growing wet with tears. Only to make a flawless transition into speaking the most obscene and sensual promises (or threats), have my face continuing to burn red.

I was an absolute wreck.

“You should see yourself right now...Completely fucked out of your mind, slobbering all over, and tear stains coating your cheeks...yet still so breathtaking”. My enthralled lover may no longer be whispering, but the chill of his breath on my neck is still ever present. I don’t speak, I knew my ability of coherent speech had vanished long ago.

Gray doesn’t need my words to go off of now, not when my breath hitches and my body jerks involuntarily. “This one will be....number four right?” He sounds so proud. That wasn’t really a question, and I wouldn’t of answered it even if I could have.

As much as I craved release, my pride urged me to deny it. A small voice inside my head is saying; “Ignore the relentless tingling of your clit, the tight wound knot in your stomach, the pressure from that magnificent cock sinking itself into your deepest depths...”.

Dammit ___________, get it together!

You are a proud Fairy Tail mage; A living embodiment of strength, determination, and destroyer of adversity! You’ve let this man turn you into putty within his hands, he thinks he owns you! Now it’s time for you to reclaim your pride and turn the tables on him!

Who am I kidding?

🌬Grays POV

“Holding back now are we?”

I can’t help but tease her when she’s trying so hard to hide the fact that I have her teetering on the edge of bliss. She lets out and annoyed huff and I poke one of her inflated cheeks, making sure my cock is buried inside of her as far as it can go.

“You take my cock so well baby, you’re already starting to shape to me on the inside...you’ll be my perfect little cock sleeve in no time” I murmured before giving her another nice dark love bite to match the one on the other side of her neck. “I know you want to drench my cock some more” my ice coated finger flicks against her clit before circling over it.

“Hah!” she shrieks at the frozen contact to her bundle of nerves, involuntarily jerking and in turn slamming her hips backwards, burying my dick inside her once more. The tip of my head just barely makes contact with her cervix, and then her walls suddenly contract, clamping down around me. I have to give every effort to not paint them white as not only her ecstatic wail reaches my ears, but I look down just in time to see her lightly spritz the hand id been using to play with her clit.

For a moment my brain begins to short circuit, and then it just shuts down completely.

✨ Your POV

That was....incredible.

Several minutes pass with my mind reeling from the intense orgasm I’d just experienced. It’s like I’m drunk, but not from the alcohol I’d consumed earlier. Drunk from the dopamine flooding my brain, and my heart swelling with overwhelming feelings of love. Love....love for the man currently sharing my bed.  Before I can turn to Gray and embarrass myself with a bunch of post orgasm love drunk rambling, I remember something....oh my god.

I sober up and am slammed back into reality almost instantly. My face begins to burn and I Stifle a cry of humiliation as I realize; I’d just squirted all over his hand! That’s never happened to me before! Gray hasn’t said one word...he’s been silent since it happened! He probably has a look of disgust on his face, I can’t bring myself to look and see.

I try to move,, intent on getting away to take refuge on the other side of the bed. His arms immediately constrict around me, “Oh no you don’t, you aren’t going anywhere!”.  Suddenly he’s flat on his back keeping a firm grip on my hips as I’m forced to straddle him. Glancing over my shoulder I see the proud smirk he’s wearing, then he speaks; “Never had a girl do that before...I like it” giving me a wink afterwards. “Sh-Shut u-up” I mumble as I return my gaze to the wall in front of me, breathing deeply in attempt to calm my palpitating heart.

“Y’know normally I’d give you a little break but... I can’t...not after seeing you do that” he pauses, and I can’t see his eyes roaming over my back side, but I feel his hands slide down from my hips. Then a sharp SMACK resounds around the room, followed by my startled gasp. “Ride me...now!” a fierce growl preludes another sharp smack to my other ass cheek.

I don’t even bother to stop the excited shake that over takes my body, the sudden change into this demanding demeanor is thrilling! Keeping my back to him, I’m quick to position myself over his length and begin to sink down on it. The soft mewl I emit is drowned out by a hiss as the tip of his dick slips between my lips. “That’s it...good girl” he praises as he begins to rub out the red marks on my ass.

Eager to please I get straight to work.

Albeit a bit awkward at first, but Im able to get a steady rhythm going in no time. “So much better than in my dreams...fuckin’ hell __________ your ass is perfect! Yeah that’s it babe, bounce it just like that” Gray mumbles appreciatively, completely enamored with the sight in front of him. “Dream about me often do you?” I tease, throwing him a smug glance over my shoulder. “More often than I’d ever care to admit, now turn around and face me would you?.

I do as he asked, rotating my body to face him. He gently pulls me down towards him and I stop short, my face now inches above his own. My stomach feels like it’s filled with butterflies at the sudden closeness. Unsure of what to do I quietly whisper an awkward sounding “Hi”. A wide grin appears on his face as he responds; “Hi” followed quickly by a chuckle at my sudden awkwardness.

Now we’re both smiling at each other like complete dorks, and I’m compelled to lean forward and kiss him. I resume my ride as his tongue curls around mine, quickly losing myself in the passion of this moment. Gray is quick to pick up the slack, thrusting his hips upward each time mine sink down. The atmosphere in the bedroom has changed, we both feel it. When I say his name again it comes out in a breathy whine.

His eyes reflect an emotion I’ve never seen in them before and his tone is gentle when he says “I know baby, hold on just a little longer for me”. Strong arms wind themselves tighter around me, drawing my body in as close as possible as he speeds up the pace of his thrusts. “I want to feel you gush all over my cock when I finally get to cum inside you” his lips are on mine again, kissing me passionately while bouncing me up and down on his cock.“That okay with you baby? Do you want me to fill up this tight little cunt?”

My confession comes out quick and shameless; “Yes! God there’s nothing I want more right now, I’ve wanted that for ages!”.

“Tell me, who do you belong to now snowflake?”

“YOU! I belong to you now Gray”

“Tell me you need me”

“I need you, I never want to be without you, so please just-“

“Tell me...” he pauses, placing a hand on my cheek and staring into my eyes.

“Tell me you love me”.

[rvmmm21]

[ V V S her diamonds ]

summary : seungwan is an idiot, joohyun is an idiot. cupid rips his hair out in frustration.

small note : please yell at galaxygerbil for me. for putting justin freaking bieber’s ‘anyone’ in my head on loop for centuries and for the hectic mess that i am when i read their fics. this is an attempt the only genre i have been skirting around because i just cannot read/write angst. if this ages decently, yay.

p.s. characters are from my first wenrene university au (you know who i am?) so it’s identical in regards to characters and the au itself, but a different plot. 

tw : slight angst (but it’s all cupid’s), perpetual urge to scream.

[senior!irene x junior!wendy]

. . .

[5:15p.m.] Seungwan rushes past the temptation of bookshops, restaurants and arcades. She silently curses when she very nearly falls flat on her face from an uneven bit of pavement.

. . .

“Seungwan-ah!” Yerim calls out, retracting her debit card from the exasperated cashier and waving Seungwan towards her. “Come, hurry up and order something.”

The blonde shyly weaves through the crowded little arcade cafe, eliciting pointed looks and grunts from hungry patrons. She leaves the ‘I-dare-you-to-challenge-my-best-friend-right-now’ stare to Yerim. 

Seungwan reaches the counter with a huff. “What are you guys getting?” 

“I got bibimmyeon.” The younger glances over her shoulder at Seulgi who’s scrolling through her phone at the table in the corner. “Uh, i think Seul got pork mandu.”

Seungwan holds up two fingers and a polite smile. “Two bibimmyeon, please.”

The cashier inputs their orders with a click of a button, swiping Yerim’s card through the reader.

The duo shuffle away with a number card on a metal stand, heading for the table under the stairs. A harassed Seulgi barely notices her friends sitting down.

“You’re here?” She clicks her phone off and begins rummaging through her Muji pencil case for a pencil. “What did you get? I think we’re pulling an all-nighter.”

“Bibimmyeon, same as Yerimie.” Seungwan grimaces, more at the possibility of another sleepless night. But such is university life. Plus, she’d much rather her friends keep her accountable than procrastinate alone. Especially on projects that weighed so heavily on her final grade.

Yerim elbows Seungwan, who suddenly notices she’s the last to get her materials out.

Like clockwork, the three get to work, the clicking of their keyboards overtaken by frantic plastic clicking of various 90’s arcade machines.

Thankfully, food is served right as they’re wrapping up chapter three, the worst one of them all. Seungwan, Seulgi and Yerim scarf down their food like girls ten years starved, focused on feeding the demands of their stomachs rather than their assignments.

. . .

The sun retires past the blue-purple horizon, leaving three burnt out students standing outside a closed cafe, clutching laptops and notebooks in the dark. They hastily make plans again for next week’s study date, sweeping the forgotten all-nighter under the rug, all too eager to head home and shut the door in the faces of their due dates and exams.

“Same time next week?” Seungwan asks after a yawn.

Seulgi shakes her head, squinting at her calendar app. “I have dance tryouts then. Can we do Thursday instead? We can meet at the same time then, or even earlier.”

Yerim agrees to everything, seconds away from falling asleep on her feet. 

“Alright,” the blonde sighs, plugging the aux cable into her phone and flipping through her Spotify. “See you guys then. Yerimie bring your own highlighter next time.”

Everyone mumbles, turning their own ways.

. . .

“YAH!”

The rude exclamation of a tall, red-faced boy while his smaller friend stands meekly behind him blares attention bells to the furthest corner of their university cafeteria.

Seungwan pauses mid-chew to shush a pouting Yerim, who’s upset that her funny dog story was interrupted right as it was getting good. They face the commotion and Seungwan beholds a pair of steely eyes gazing boredly from underneath the brim of a black Yankee baseball cap.

That signature glare belongs to none other than Bae Joohyun, someone the junior recognises instantly from (truthfully much more than) one of their shared literature electives. And of course, beside her stands her equally as intimidating friends, Park Sooyoung and Kim Jennie. 

And the hothead is the only person who’d be stupid enough to challenge a trio like that: fresh campus casanova, Wong Lucas. Seungwan’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, but she isn’t surprised.

Everyone’s attention has been commanded now, but if the boy cared, he didn’t show it.

“Yah, freshman.” Jennie snaps, gripping her mocha latte and stepping to the front while Sooyoung suspiciously eyes him and his friend. “Speak with some respect. What’s wrong with you! We’re your seniors.”

The meek girl behind him looks terrified, curly mousy-brown ponytails shadowing the cold sweat visibly beading on her forehead. She almost moves to say something but Lucas stops her with a firm hand, turning back to continue berating the girl in the cap.

“You couldn’t even let her talk?!” The irony is lost on him, as a frown settles on his arched eyebrows, frustration frosting over his features. “She told me you rejected her before she could finish. Did you have to speak so rudely? Do you know how hard it is to confess?”

A hint of apprehension creeps into Sooyoung’s expression and Jennie fights the urge to splash her drink right in his face. Followed by the cup.

Bae Joohyun simply resists a yawn.

“Can you move? We’re busy.” 

It’s the first time she’s spoken since the outburst, and Seungwan feels her palms sweat.

The girl behind Lucas finally speaks. Her eyes are glossy and wide, overflowing with hurt and betrayal. “It’s okay, s-sunbae. B-but I… I was hoping we could still–”

“I’m not interested,” comes the cut and dry reply.

A bystander innocently tries to diffuse the rising tension. He lightly places his hand on the boy’s shoulder, darting his gaze between the two teams. “Alright I think that’s enough.” He turns to Lucas. “No need to be so hostile, be a gentleman and apologise.”

“Whatever.” Lucas irritatedly shrugs him off, piercing stare fixed on the senior who couldn’t look more disinterested. “You deserve it. You think you can just talk however you want just because you’re pretty? Self-centred trash, fix your attitude first.”

Sooyoung’s jaw drops, Jennie goes wide-eyed, and Yerim is fumbling around with the record button as quietly as she can. 

Seungwan’s heart quickens in pace.

Joohyun doesn’t even realise she’s lunging forward.

. . .

The cafeteria disperses with hushed whispers and repeated glances over shoulders until it’s just Seungwan, Seulgi and Yerim left. They’re glued to their seats, astounded at the sight of Wong Lucas on the ground, clutching his nose in pain while Song Yuqi stands frozen to the spot, paled in horror at witnessing her crush just sock her older brother square in the face.

It’s so silent save for the moaning and groaning from the floor.

“Did you see that?” Seungwan murmurs back at her friends, unaware that her eyes glint with obvious admiration. “That was kinda cool.”

Seulgi’s lip quirks in disbelief. “It’s definitely broken. Look at her, she’s insane.”

“Right?” Yerim snickers, already posting the video clip to their group chat. “Insanely co-ordinated. Best thing that’s happened all day.” 

“I’m gonna offer her a Band-Aid,” Seungwan spontaneously decides, ignorant to the horror plastered on both her friends’ faces.

Yerim makes tiny, urgent neck slice motions while Seulgi quickly yanks an eager Seungwan down hard by the sleeve.

“Ow, Seul!” The blonde mouths, brows furrowing in annoyance. 

The dancer takes the opportunity to knock some sense into her. “Seriously, are you crazy?” she whispers harshly, her own nerves flaring at the thought of being overheard. “It’s an insult! She’s going to kill you.”

Both girls try to stop their friend from making the dumbest decision of her life, but Seungwan frees herself from their frantically grasping limbs, slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading to the crime scene.

She reaches just in time to feel Lucas brush angrily past them and out the doors. Yuqi slinks after him, casting Joohyun an apologetic look. 

Way to get rejected twice, Seungwan sympathises. Poor kid, with a sibling who’s an idiot Hercules. 

It takes all her willpower to wrestle her racing heartbeat and her self-preservation instinct into submission. The junior approaches with care, trying with everything she has to convey that she comes in peace.

Joohyun shifts her focus to her and Seungwan’s legs almost go jelly, but something about Joohyun draws her in like a spell. She hated playing good samaritan in situations like these, but it isn’t as though Seungwan hasn’t been dying to talk to her impossibly attractive senior since the first day of class.

You miss any chance you don’t take, right? Yes, obviously.

“H-hi sunbaes,” Seungwan greets with a cautious bow. This is the closest she’s been to the black velvet trio and it’s certainly leaving an impression. She doesn’t even have to look back to know that her block-head friends are gawping at the scene, wondering how their loser of a friend is so okay with dying at the age of twenty two.

Blinking, Seungwan washes her thoughts of how dazzling Joohyun looks, even when she looks like she’s out for blood. Especially when she looks like she’s out for blood.

Suddenly remembering the other reason she came over here, the small blonde holds out some alcohol wipes and Band-Aids like gifts. “Are you h– are you okay?”

“Of course I am,” Joohyun responds curtly. She surely knows her icy stare crumples Seungwan’s insides like butter paper. Perhaps that’s why she does it. “It’s over.”

“A-are you sure your fist knows?” The junior tries, all too aware the girl in front of her could have her wiped off the face of the earth with the snap of her fingers.

A scowl ghosts across Joohyun’s face before she drops her eyes to where her fist is still clenched and trembling slightly.

Seungwan fills the silence with an awkward chuckle. “Just thought you might want to clean up after the battle.”

Jennie and Sooyoung’s unimpressed looks are replaced with shock when Joohyun actually accepts a wet wipe from the younger’s shaking hands. Her eyes are pinned to the wipe as it glazes over bruised, rosy knuckles.

The shorter girl internally swoons. Her mere offering has been received! – and not just received regularly, but received with a frosty ‘thank you’, to top it all off. 

As the three seniors are leaving, Seungwan secretly prays that Yerim used her brains and recorded this moment too.

She flinches out of her thought bubble when Seulgi lands a palm clumsily on her shoulder.

“Wah, daebak,” the Cadbury-haired dancer congratulates her crazy, bodacious friend. “So what was that, like your first date or something?”

Yerim scoffs, hooking her arm around Seulgi’s bicep and dragging her out. “Come on Seul, we might as well start eating bugs and singing ‘Can You Feel The Love Tonight’. Wannie unnie can’t see us anymore.”

Seungwan rushes after her best friends, picking up her pace when they break into a power walk to the bus station.

“Yerm-ah! Did you get that? Please tell me you got that!”

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 20

Prompt: Betrayal

Read on AO3

Shattered... (from a Certain Point of View)

Never in Rex's short life did he think he would ever betray his Jedi. None of them. Not General Kenobi or Skywalker. Certainly not Commander Tano. To follow orders was part of his programming, but not only that. He would follow his leaders to hell and back if they asked him-- if he considers Umbara or Zygerria and Kadavo hell, then he truly did. The Jedi have become honorary brothers in his mind. They put their lives on the line right next to him and the others, most of the time more-so. They've saved his life more times than he can count, only to be rivaled by the number of times they've gotten him into trouble.

They earned his respect. His friendship. And the respect and friendship of the other men.

Which is why, when the hooded figure shows up on the holo and utters a phrase Rex has never heard before, but suddenly just knows what to do...

"Execute Order 66"

He feels a part of him snap into place, and another part of him shatter into pieces.

"Yes, Lord Sidious," he replies, a surge of adrenaline and anger coursing through him. The door behind him opens, and Rex tightens the grip on his blaster.

But when he hears her voice...

"Rex!"

So familiar, tugging at memories so fond.

"It's Anakin."

Another name he knows too well. Too closely. The hand holding his helmet begins to quiver.

"I feel like something terrible has happened."

Something terrible is about to happen. It's the strangest sensation. Like his mind has been split into two and both sides are fighting for dominance. One side is telling him to draw his blaster and shoot Ahsoka Tano before she has a chance to do a thing. He's a quick shot, and if he misses there are guards at the door.

Good soldiers follow orders.

The other side is screaming at him. Pleading him. No! This is wrong! You can't do this!

His helmet slips from his grip and clatters to the floor. She's still standing behind him, and he can hear the confusion in her voice as the commlink tones of the other troopers begin to chime in.

"Rex?"

He knows the sound of blasters being aimed far too well. The two guards have received their orders. In a moment Ahsoka Tano will be dead. Rex draws in a breath. The mere thought of that as a truth, makes his entire body feel numb.

"No," he says firmly, but the shake in his voice is undeniable. He turns around, taking in the sight of the two troopers with orange and white painted helmets ready to fire. "I'll do it,"

"Rex? What's happening?"

He doesn't even remember picking up both his blasters before he's raising them, both pointed straight at her head. Staring down barrels, Rex finally looks at her. Looks her in the eye. All he can see in her big blue eyes and young face is the look of utter confusion and alarm. A kid! She's only a kid!

"Stay back!" he yells. His hands have never shaken like this before but now they won't stop. He's taken countless lives in this--this war for the Republic. Or for the Separatists? Who is winning now? Was anyone ever winning? He has no idea. What he does know is his hands have never shaken and he hardly ever misses a shot, but right now it is looking like both of these things are his reality. A part of him is frustrated and a part of him is praying to whatever higher power that may be listening that he misses this shot, please. "Find him," he says, feeling that his free will is quickly being overtaken. Like a parasite invading his brain, the good memories of Tano, Skywalker, and Kenobi are being pushed out by force. "Find him. Fives."

He can't take it anymore.

"Find him!" he screams and then fires his blaster wildly in the wrong direction. It's all the warning she needs. Ahsoka bolts into action, moving faster than his eyes can even perceive. Faster than he can react to her body slamming into his and cracking the back of his head into the console. White-hot pain flashes through him and he crumbles to the ground with black spots dancing before his eyes.

Execute Order 66, the shrill voice echos in his mind. Kill the Jedi. Good soldiers follow orders.

He groans, pushing through the haze of pain and blaster shots to get back on his feet. He hears his name being called, sounding faraway, but he can feel that it's near.

Rex starts to fire again. And again. Not really knowing where he's aiming, just knowing that he needs to kill the Jedi.

And when she disappears, the urge only grows.

__________

They search the ship. Tirelessly. Frantically. Like nothing else has mattered this much the entire war.

Except it has. Everything has been an uphill battle and we have done it every time with the help and guidance of the Jedi.

He grits his teeth. Nearly slams his fist into the wall of the lift he's in. Their orders are to execute her.

When have the orders of this Lord Sidious ever mattered before?

Rex's shoulder slams into a doorframe he wasn't paying attention to. He hisses at the blunt pain, shakes it off. A squad of troopers passes him in a steady jog.  Headed to their sector. They will find her if they have to tear this ship apart.

He starts to run, but is caught by troublesome droids blocking his path. He slams into one, taking an opportunity to kick it.

"Hey! Hey, out of the way." The droid seems to laugh at him, and he has half a mind to run his blaster through it instead. Then the blast doors shut around him, locking him in the hallway. "Are you cross-wired?"

A holographic Commander Tano appears from within the droid. "Rex. I think I know what's happening. I saw your report on Fives,"

Fives. Rex's entire body shutters at the remembrance of his death. How he fell limp in his arms.

"It isn't your fault." There's a surprising amount of sympathy in her eyes to be looking at the man who just tried to murder her. "You were programmed. Your mind was altered to do this when you were very young. I can help you."

Good soldiers follow orders.

You were programmed.

The hologram dissipates. His eyebrows slant. Another surge of anger from a place deep with him. He points the blaster at the droid as if it could tell him anything of use. "Where is she?"

"I'm right here," as he turns, a burst of electricity shoots through him, and the world goes black.

__________

The sound of battle wakes Rex up better than any alarm. His heart is already pounding with adrenaline, but when he opens his eyes he finds he is much less prepared for battle than his body seems to be.

His head is pounding. Lights too bright. He tries to process what's going on around him.

Medbay. Lights in medbay. Blasters. Stretcher. Injured? Lightsaber.

Lightsaber. Ahsoka.

Rex pushes through the wave of nausea and finds himself on the receiving end of an endless stream of blaster shots. He'd be more blaster wounds than man if it weren't for Commander Tano crouched at the end of his bed, the bright blue of her lightsabers moving at an impossible speed. She blocks every single blast with perfect precision, but Rex realizes none are being aimed back at the troopers.

The troopers are trying to kill her. He reaches for his guns as a blast manages to strike her shoulder and she staggers back. He aims them as she screams for the droid to respond, her energy obviously waning.

Rex remembers the last time he picked up both his blasters. They were pointed at his Jedi. Armed to kill. But the feeling is suddenly gone from his system. The voice no longer echos in his mind.

He aims. He shoots. This time, he doesn't miss.

Four brothers cry out as his shots hit as they always do, their bodies falling as the door finally shuts. In the sudden silence of immediate ceasefire, Commander Tano turns around and looks at him with those big blue eyes. Her young face is full of confusion and alarm..,. but also hope.

And to see her look at him with hope is the worst possible way she could have looked at him because. when he looks at her all he can see is the reflection of his own betrayal. She shouldn't be staring at him with such concern, moving toward him instead of running away.

His hands start to shake again. He's still pointing his pistols at her, but his fingers aren't even on the triggers. He is just too shellshocked to know what to even do right now. If she ignited her sabers and took him out, he wouldn't blame her in the slightest.

She should hate him. She should kill him. She has every right to that.

Instead, she asks if he is okay.

No, I am not okay... but hearing her voice calms him. Snaps him out of the haze of waking up to such a shock, and he slowly lowers the blasters.

"Yeah. Yeah, kid, I'm okay."

The pounding in his head begs to differ. He reaches up to the source, feeling a thick bandage on the side of his head. You were programmed.

They put a chip in his head to control him when they needed him. To control all of the clones.

"I was framed because I know the truth... the truth about a plot. A massive deception... A sinister plot in the works against the Jedi!"

Shame courses through him at the judgment he cast upon his friend. The disbelief at what he was saying. Fives knew. Fives was right.

"It's in all of us. Every clone."

Every clone.

It sounded crazy at the time. He thought Fives had lost it the way he'd seen countless other brothers descend into madness.

"It's bigger than any of us. Than anything I could have imagined."

Now Rex sees it. The entire plan in action with no way of stopping it. The clones have their orders to kill their Jedi, and he knows for a fact that on their own, the Jedi don't stand a chance against their battalions of thousands.

"I just wanted to do my duty... The mission... the nightmares... they're finally... over"

Fives' last words hit him like a speeder to the stomach. All this time they were put here not to fight and die for the Republic, but to act as sleeper agents until they were needed. Mere pawns created for Lord Sidious's master plan that Rex doesn't even fully understand. What scenario constitutes a purging of an entire religion? It's a war crime at the very least. Their duty was always what they were told to do... but no more. He is tired of being a pawn. He doesn't have anything forcing him into obedience hidden within his mind.

Now, he has a new duty. To stay by Commander Tano's side, and try to stand by those who fought alongside them the last few years. Good soldiers follow orders, but better soldiers do what's right.

[rhomsfanfic]

Forever (Ren Kouen X Reader)

a/n: And the last one from the appreciation series for the zine ^-^ My favorite tbh though I enjoyed writing all of them really ♥

“This will take how long?”

There was a certain nervousnessin the prince’s voice, only overtaken by the growling tone he let roll with it. From all the things he didn’t need that day, it was the carriage breaking down on the way to the next negotiation meeting. Not only would it make him stand in a bad light to come late, but it also would make the people talk about how he wanted to ditch out of this meeting so badly, he lied about his carriage. Kouen knew this was going to happen, and it put him into an angry and frustrated state.

However, the driver kept his cool, even standing his ground against the member of royalty. "I sent the page, ya know, the kid. Anyways, I sent the page to get us a spare wheel from the next town. Might take an hour, or maybe even two hours, but it'll take a while, to get it fixed." Groaning, the prince walked away without any form of goodbye, opening the way into the carriage and slamming the door behind him.

“And?” you asked, not looking up from the scroll in your hand. Just like Kouen, you had your duties to attend to and you were determined to get the information you needed from the paper. “One or two hours,” he replied bitterly, sinking down onto the seat in front of you. “Told you so,” you replied in a humorous manner, smiling as you read through the sentences. He replied with a grunt, angry that you had been right before when you told him the exact same time span. Or maybe he was just angry at the situation, it wasn’t very obvious to you.

You knew too well how important this specific meeting was and the tension running through the prince very well deserved to be there. However, you sighed as you put the scroll aside, leaning forward to touch his knee. “We’ll still be on time. It’s so early, they don’t expect us before sunset anyway,” you tried to calm him, smiling at him.

Kouen was not convinced but he at least let out his breath and the tension on his shoulders dissolved slowly. You smiled more when you saw him relax a little and gave his knee some pats with your hands, before leaning back again. Pushing the curtain on the window out of the way you gave the outdoor area a thorough inspection, sighing longingly.

It was beautiful outside. The autumn painted everything in warm orange and brown tones, from the leaves to the grass. Some rare spots of pink and red fluttered through and the falling, yellow leaves that danced on the breeze made you long for a stroll outside. You heard Kouen shuffle in his seat, his hand soon enough pushed the curtain further away, enabling him to look out too as he followed your gaze with his eyes.

“It’s pretty…” you sighed, grazing the landside with your look. You hadn’t been able to give your mind a break. Instead you had been driving through the country with Kouen, attending meetings and educating yourself on new knowledge to use. There was no time for breaks, by how rapidly the two of you had to get from place to place, and now you really felt just how much you had spent indoors, not even noticing the seasons pass.

Kouen looked over from the spot he was sitting at, inspecting your hair and the soft features of your face as you gazed outside with so much longing. He let out a deep breath, before pulling back from the window and getting up, taking your wrist into his hand gently. “Come,” he said and even though you gave him a confused look, you let yourself be pulled out of the carriage by him.

Immediately there were soldiers around the two of you, making sure you are safe. Much to your surprise however, Kouen waved them off, telling them to look after the carriage. You gave the warriors a smile, thanking them for their work, while the prince tugged you along and away. Luckily, he didn’t let you follow his footsteps for too long, the position you were in getting uncomfortable.

Then again, you were surprised when he held out his arm, an unusual gesture from Kouen. He wasn’t known for being tactful and you had abandoned the thought of him being overly romantic. You couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you linked arms, if there even was an opportunity before, so you eagerly took the chance he gave you now.

You couldn’t help but smile at his affectionate behavior. Even though his expression didn’t change drastically, you noticed how he slowed down his walking to match yours and also leaned to the side a bit so you could easily hold on to him. He wasn’t a man of many words, but he made up for it with all the little gestures he expressed randomly. You couldn’t be happier to be by his side.

Leading the way, the two of you browsed through the grassy area, the path leading you into an alley of trees. You went quite a bit ahead of the carriage, which was still resting at the place it broke down. The autumn wind was fresh and you felt good when breathing it in, but it also felt a little cold against the few open patches of your clothes, so you drew closer to the arm that was held out for you, seeking the prince’s warmth.

Above the two of you, a sudden flock of birds raised up, the sound of their wings and the cooing making you stop and look up. You watched how they flew high and then slowly disappeared from your line of sight. “It’s getting colder, they are leaving for a warmer place,” you mumbled, staring at the last point you had seen the flying animals. “Indeed,” Kouen replied and the two of you slowly continued on your way.

“Soon, all the leaves will have fallen down and everything will be covered by an icy blanket,” you sighed, looking down to the path you were walking on, listening to the leaves crunch under your feet. Kouen didn’t say anything, taking your words as the facts they were. You understood that there was nothing to add for him, since his words would serve no other purpose than holding small-talk, something he didn’t like.

Undeterred, you continued. “You ever think about this, Kouen?” On the call of his name, he turned his head towards you, his eyes burning with a questioning gaze. “About life and death, the endless cycle, I mean…” Biting your lower lip, you lowered your eyes which had met his previously. Cautiously and softly you added, “You were on a battlefield before, did this never cross your mind?”

You could feel his arm tense a little at the mentioning of war. It was his own love-hate relationship with it that urged him to think about your words for a while. There was silence between the two of you, minutes passing as you made your way down a branch of the path. Surprisingly, a small lake opened up before the two of you, a few last ducks circling on top of the water.

The two of you came to a halt and you let go of his arm, both of your limbs falling to the side of your bodies. “What happens…” he grumbled, letting the words fall of his tongue. Then he shrugged before adding, “happens.” You looked at him, nodding slowly. His gaze was fixated on the grey-blue of the lake, but you were able to see a small hint of pain in the wrinkles he had on the side of his eyes.

The prince was thinking back to his past and the loss of his heroes at that time, you were sure about that. You were never able to confirm if he was still troubled by it - Kouen would always avoid the topic and there was no clear answer - but you knew. Deep inside it still shook him to the core and with all the responsibility that suddenly was on his shoulders, he never did have the time to come to terms with it.

“So I am not afraid of something that might be. I’ll deal with it once its time is drawing close,” he finally replied to your question. You tenderly placed your hand on his upper arm, leaning against him without putting much weight on him, and mumbled, “I see.” For a moment the silence returned but it wasn’t too long until you picked up your voice again.

“I am. I am afraid of the day that I won’t be able to spend with you.” Though it had cost you a whole lot of confidence to say that, you felt proud to have it off your chest. It wasn’t very often that the two of you exchanged words about your feelings and when you thought about it again, you felt a little stupid for doing so, but you also were glad that it was out. Maybe it had been the warmth radiating from him. Or maybe it had been the strength you felt when leaning against his arm. But your voice had left you before you could overthink it. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it.

Kouen didn’t reply to that. You didn’t really expect him to. Instead, the two of you said your farewells to the lake, the last duck swinging its wings and leapt out of the water, leaving its home behind to escape the cold winter. You made your way back to the carriage in silence, only disturbed by the cracking of the leaves and the breeze that rustled the tree crowns.

The carriage came back into sight soon, making you let out a sigh in relief when you made out the page that brought back the wheel, already working on the repairs. That was, until you suddenly felt a warm hand engulf yours, Kouen holding you back slightly and slowing down your steps. It took a few seconds until you two came to a halt and you looked at him expectantly. He didn’t meet your gaze, looking stoically forward at the carriage and observing what was going on.

“We need to appreciate what we have. But…” his words got quiet again and for a short moment, he looked at you. It was a soft gaze and his red eyes shimmered affectionately in a light tone. The words that followed were almost inaudible, but even just the motion of his lips got stuck in your head. He let go of your hand, making his way towards the carriage alone.

“But the thought of parting with you does worry me,” he had said and you stumbled after him immediately, determined to not let him go back alone. Not now, and not until death will part the two of you.

[notoriousjae]

The 72 Rules of Cat Grant || Supercat (8/?)

Chapter Title: Diving 

Pairing: Kara Danvers/Cat Grant

Rating: M

Chapter Description:

“I like this side of you.” Cat decides, throat bobbing as she swallows the offering.

“Of course you do. Because you’re so certain that it’s all your fault.” The tease causes another laugh and when Cat reaches across the desk, Kara runs fingers along her palm until she can hear her heartbeat ease into the softest staccato among the constant fluttering of pens outside this closed-off office of glass.

Note: Finally mostly up-to-date with all this jazz. 

Chapter 1: AO3 Link | FF.Net Link | Tumblr

Chapter 2: A03 Link | FF.net Link | Tumblr

Chapter 3: AO3 Link | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 4: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 5: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 6: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 7: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 8: AO3 | FF.Net | Below:

It’s day five (and a half) by the time Kara feels her whole life flash before her eyes. Fortunately, the majority of it (where she had a fitful sleep for twenty-four years or so, waking up every few minutes or hours or years to gasp until the life support systems would guide her back into oblivion) is lost in favor of remembering the way Alex had looked when she took her flying the first time, mixed with a murky memory of how Catherine’s smile can catch sunlight. Kara doesn’t have much time to think, at all, and those two images seem to be the best her mind can come up with when her body is thrown through a concrete barrier, fingers scratching at cement to catch her before she can plummet into the murky waters below.

This is officially not her most graceful fight.

The overwhelming taste of green and copper is nauseating-- this is what nausea feels like--and when Kara spits, red spews like paint splatter against the dirty canvas of a life-stained bridge, stumbling to shaky knees when unfocused blue eyes spot the sight of her cousin towering over heaving shoulders of the man in front of her.

This isn’t the first time they’ve met. It’s the fourth, in fact.

It’s the same man, Kara realizes with a sinking dread, that had tried to kill Lena Luthor a few hours before--who had nearly killed her sister a few moments later --and the rage is displayed by another mouthful of something else when he rushes forward, fingers curling around a swallowing neck like an iron vice as she spits what blood she has into his face in defiance.

He merely wipes it away with a rumbling chuckle, the coldness of it seeping far deeper than the Kryptonite does. Which is saying something, because the green is slowly slithering up her spine like a venomous snake and breath is becoming ragged against a swelling tongue.

Powerless.

Kal-El rushes to stop him, but the Kryptonite seems to seep into his bones when Metallo (that’s apparently his name, he likes to throw it around like a trademark) blasts him in the chest, her cousin’s body skittering across the bridge like a lifeless ragdoll and Supergirl struggles against hands made of steel she can’t bend as the glow of green overtakes her, body raising limply into the air as her bending throat creaks like a rusty metal door underneath the weight of his hand.

Definitely not her most graceful fight.

There’s countless flashes from the few spattered civilians brave enough to remain on the bridge and when one throws something at Metallo's head to distract him, Kara lets out a rasping--

“ Don’t --”

--even as the action causes a deathgrip to ease, just a little, because the last thing she wants is for them to die defending her.

Kara really doesn’t want anyone to die, actually. Herself and Kal-El included. Because this shouldn’t be it--it shouldn’t be today--not the day when she’d left Winn asleep on his couch to go stop a robbery. Not the day she hasn’t seen James at all. She hasn’t written Lois. She hasn’t laid out her letters. She’d left a cup of coffee on Cat’s desk with no explanation, this morning and hadn't been the person to leave her lover's third, and had left her relationship with Alex in tatters over a very ill-executed suggestion of Metropolis in her apartment, and they haven’t made it to lunch with Eliza , yet, who is probably making the best sandwiches on any coast, and Kal-El--

Kal-El is stumbling towards them, as powerless as she is from the Kryptonite, and the last daughter of the House of El lets out a quiet, frustrated curse of an apology in Kryptonian, before shoving her hand as hard as she can into the green, glowing pit where a heart should be in this man’s chest with a groan of agony to draw his attention towards her.

Before doing what’s probably the stupidest thing she can think of, but the best option for getting him off this bridge and away from Kal-El--away from the people who are now rushing to help her--

A gasp as fingers claw, memories of a green ring and determined eyes and her sister--her sister--

Kara throws all of her body weight just like her sister had taught her, hand curling in this green abyss (this must feel like what shoving a human’s entire arm into a spreading, growing lava would be) feeling the tendrils of it spreading from her wrist to her arm to her neck. She inhales and exhales and suddenly her breath is green and her eyes are green and her world, weak and small and powerless, is green--

Her leg sweeps underneath his thigh and her nails dig in and pull him closer, not further away--

And she throws them both off the edge of the bridge with a pained gasp, the only thing she can manage, the man’s grunt of surprise in her ear overtaken by a string of very british-sounding curses.

Because only one of them can fly.

It’s halfway through their descent, however, that Kara realizes neither one of them can fly and swallows, eyes closing as she feels the wind rush through her hair and the sound of screams in her ears, and has just enough time to fish out the bracelet in her breast, bringing it up to her lips with a faint apology, holding it with what strength she still has.

Today should not be the day for this.

She didn’t say goodbye.

--

The sun is high and bright and beautiful and Kara’s shoulders almost lazily sag underneath the weight of it as she leans against Catherine’s desk, a takeout box settled on wood and a coffee settled very, very close to her chest. A few moments after depositing them, she decides to plop knowingly--easily--into the chair, instead, and it's a testament to how distracted the CEO must be because there isn't even a half-hearted chide dancing along the office walls, dripping with forced insult and barely-concealed amusement.

“Doesn’t it ever grow tiring, Kara?” Cat quietly asks, eyes settled on a clock and Kara has the most ridiculous urge to skim her lover’s fingers along the edge of gold around her wrist, instead. “Knowing I’ll be here at exactly the same time, every morning. Putting out the same fires with different names. Arguing over semantics. Doesn’t a young girl like you find it tedious dealing with the boring, repeatable minutiae of life?”

“I never get tired of seeing you at 7:05 on the dot, Cat. I actually love minutiae.” Kara shakes her head, coming forward with curled fingers at her lap to keep from running them along the lines of a brow that shouldn’t crinkle quite so deeply. Trying to follow the look in her eyes feels like chasing the tail end of a comet through the stars, something she’ll never be quick enough to wrap her fingers around, and when Cat lets a quiet sigh between the gap of her teeth, she feels succinctly like she’s said the wrong thing. “But I…”

“Of course you don’t, Kara. You haven’t been stuck in an endless Groundhog Day cycle of trying to turn around incompetence, doing the same thing for two decades.” Cat cuts her off, focusing back down on the paper underneath her and a small laugh bubbles up, unbidden, on Kara’s lips, trying to cover it with her hand. It rumbles between them and a singular eyebrow arches over the silver frame of glasses in unimpressed question. “I wasn’t aware my problems amused you. I suppose that’s what I get for paying Lucy van Pelt the 5 cents. Hell, you’ve barely even been alive for two decades, you’re like a perky little goldfish floating around, seeing everything for the first time and then forgetting five seconds later.”

Seeing the tension on Cat’s face, Kara tries to take the insult in stride because the moment she’d walked into a building she currently (for a few more hours) isn’t employed at, she could feel the heat off of Cat’s shoulders. And watch the after-effects of it, given the scurrying employees that told her to run while she could the moment she stepped on the 40th floor.

“Okay, forgetting the fact that you just called me a goldfish, I’m only laughing because I…” Eyes flick behind them and she scoots a chair closer to the desk, uninvited, and ignores the sigh she can practically feel bubbling up on familiar shoulders. “It was the word choice, Cat. I literally spent two decades in space. And I mean literally. Twenty-four years of floating around. Doing the same thing.”

It’s a rare treat to see surprise barely widen those eyes and Kara shakes her head.

“...that’s new information.” Cat’s careful with her word choice and Kara still sees that journalist in the corner of her eyes--squinting and quiet--even as she sees the lover in her clearer and clearer each day, in the way her finger so carefully squeezes the edge of her pen.

“It’s boring information.” The last thing she needs in this week is to see mockups on James’ desk referencing her twenty-four year casting as Sleeping (not) Beauty. She’s trying her best to keep Supergirl out of the news this week. She’s been in it enough, with Metallo. “I wasn’t kidding about the floating. But either way, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.” Cat hums, dipping back in her chair, eyes ever assessing, and Kara leans forward to chase that comet, wrists resting on a desk, “There’s a quote I always think of when I think of you, Catherine--”

“You do realize a person who relies on quotes so often usually does so because they don’t have original thoughts?”

Kara’s eyes barely slit, finger raising, “Okay, that’s the second time. I’m letting you slide because I know you’re obviously stressed and it’s rare for you to talk to me about anything so you’re vulnerable and...and grumpy and I do not want to accidentally get Eve fired so I’m keeping my mouth shut,” She straightens her blouse a little, shoulders tightening as her finger wags, voice even and pointed because sometimes Catherine needs a bit of a push back, “But it’s technically not my job to get you coffee, anymore, and I swear I won’t do it if you keep this up, Ms. Grant. Because this one? This coffee’s mine, and I won’t share.”

Okay, it’s not her best threat.

“Oh, you won’t get me coffee ,” Cat drawls, calling her on it, “My world is ending. It’s almost like I don’t have a thousand nameless employees all perfectly capable of doing menial--”

“ Cat .” Kara’s jaw clenches and her voice sounds every bit as strong as the House of El and, amazingly, she watches fingers pinch at the bridge of a nose before they slowly slide off glasses, a hint of remorse settling in a familiar gaze even if her tone is intentionally--it must be intentionally--bored.

“I’m sorry , whatever.” But dark eyes flick towards the balcony and a small sigh lowers shoulders, quieter--barely a whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Kara takes that as her cue to slowly stand, shutting the office door and lowering the blinds--it’s not an uncommon occurrence mid-day for Cat to need a moment, another migraine tucking at the back of her throat--and a softness tips up lips when she sees a familiar hand splayed over the desk like Cat hasn’t expected her to turn around, at all. At the sight of a frown and a down-turned chin, Kara rushes to assure against such a nonsensical fear, voice the same humming volume of the background news coverage she clicks off (an earlier fight between the superheroes and Metallo) when she promises: “I wasn’t leaving, Cat.”

Catherine lets out a slow, slow breath, fingers rubbing at her temples, and Kara leans against a desk--lowers hands with a teasing, knowing bat to an older pair--and lovingly does it for her, hands smoothing against skin underneath the tight line of perfectly-styled hair that falls between them.

“If you scared me off with a couple of mood swings, I wouldn’t have made it past my first hour of working here. Definitely not the morning after we were together the second time.” There’s a faint, almost fond chuckle at the memory of it, “Or maybe I just forget,” It’s sing-song--beaming, “Because I’m a goldfish.”

Cat sags into her hands, a hint of a warm laugh breaking against her wrists, and lips brush over a tilted forehead in a soft gesture--a gentle forgiveness and quiet hello--a hint of gratitude, even, for being able to be right here for her. It’s the equivalent, Kara knows, of not going onto that balcony alone, and she won’t forsake it.

“I should have stuck with golden retriever.” Fingers curl around Kara’s wrist, nose turning into a palm, and when carefully-blackened eyelashes flutter, Kara can see an ocean of open green in Catherine’s eyes.

“Goldfish is fine. I think I like it. Mainly because, normally when people call me a dog, they’re using another word for it and they’re usually very loud.” A sage nod, “ Very angry. And it’s usually? When I’m helping put them in handcuffs.” Her nose wrinkles and Cat laughs and just like that, the day is a little brighter.

“Well the handcuffs could be arranged.” That’s a decidedly lower drawl and Kara flushes from it--crosses her leg on the edge of the desk--bites the edge of her lip underneath the faintest hint of a blush as she leans forward, a breath above Cat’s knowing eyes.

“Well, if you like being tied up, I have a cape that doesn’t fray.” It’s out of her mouth before she realizes she’s even said it and her cheeks turn the same shade as said cape at the image, clearing her throat a little, unused to being so brazen underneath the warmth of the sun but not shying away from it, fingers lowering from temples to skim along a cheek, a moment later hopping up and dutifully retrieving two pills and a glass of water before resuming her perch, those eyes heating skin far better than the sun ever has as she does.

“I like this side of you.” Cat decides, throat bobbing as she swallows the offering.

“Of course you do. Because you’re so certain that it’s all your fault.” The tease causes another laugh and when Cat reaches across the desk, Kara runs fingers along her palm until she can hear her heartbeat ease into the softest staccato among the constant fluttering of pens outside this closed-off office of glass, “If you haven’t the strength to impose your own terms upon life. You must accept the terms it offers you.”

“That’s the quote?” A thoughtful hum, but Cat doesn’t pull away, taking another drag of water as elegantly as a socialite might a glass a wine. “That sounds...familiar.”

“T.S. Eliot,” Kara supplies, “ The Confidential Clerk .”

“Of course, everything you could have possibly quoted by T.S. Eliot and some obscure play marks the top of the list.” The glass sets down on the edge of a desk, a reflection of Cat’s quirking lips caught along the edge of it like how stars catch in the glass of her bedroom window, at night.

“ I’m not the one that likes to drop Superfluous Man into the middle of a conversation.” Kara challenges and Cat leans fully back in her chair, fingers idly twining in a familiar pair, so casual and thoughtless that it makes a young smile soften.

“Oh, I really like this side of you.” A nail skims along the inside of Kara’s index finger and she laughs, raising it up to smiling lips.

“My point,” Kara tries because she’s hardly as motivational as the woman she’s attempting to motivate, “Is that you’re a strong woman, Cat, and in anything I’ve ever seen you do--anything you’ve ever done? You’re the one making the terms. You didn’t like that journalism was male-dominated--had no place for women, at all--so you one-upped the scene. You created every form of media sensation possible with, yes, a whole lot of work, you never stop telling any of us about the work, but you did it. Journalism, news, TV, radio. I’m sure people told you you couldn’t be a single mother and a CEO and CatCo is better than ever. And Carter is the smartest, most talented, brilliant kid I’ve ever met.”

Cat hums, a hint of pride flashing over a wistful smile at mention of her son, “That’s certainly true.”

“Even in the hard things, when you gave up your son,” Kara gently reminds, “Society says you can’t have it both ways, and you’re making things with Adam work--and before you blame me for any of that,” Kara raises her free hand, “This relationship with him? It’s all you. It’s on both of your terms, not what anyone else thinks of it.”

A slow, almost shaking breath straightens shoulders, “Also insightful, in a very odd way.”

A beat, "This isn't about the dinner with Adam, right?" 

Thankfully, Cat smiles, "No." So Kara continues, thankful and glad (and thinking that she should really go check that Facebook message).

“You paved the way, Cat. For women. You paved the way for all of us to be taken seriously without having to dress like men , either. Which, you know, is nice. Please no comments about my wardrobe.” That's a hasty addition, flushing and barreling on before Cat can get a word in edge-wise, “You’re a mother and successful. You have a portfolio that your accountant says is so well-rounded you could have your own gravitational field.” Kara shakes her head, pressing, “Even our relationship, Cat,” It’s gentler, voice dipping the same moment Cat’s eyelashes do, “We’re against all odds here, but instead of giving up, you created the terms. We both did. We’re making it work so far, aren’t we?”

“It’s been a few days , Kara.” Kara can hear it. She can hear Catherine’s breath catch against the edge of teeth--can feel her pulse barely quicken--but the almost shy smile that tucks up the edges of curving lips, amused and fond, is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

“It’s been five months, Catherine. Almost six.” It’s an argument she’ll never give up and the fact that Cat doesn’t even try is more than telling, “And we’ve survived. We’re forging new relationship territory, remember? You’re...you’re a woman who changes the world without changing herself to fit it. I’m in awe of it, sometimes, Cat. It’s hard not to be. But it’s just who you are. So why...why would this be any different? You’re talking about CatCo, right? About being unhappy here?”

A grousing hum is all the answer Kara needs, because this is a subject they've broached only in the darkest mist of night.

“Because it’s my entire company, Kara. It’s…” Cat sucks in a breath, frustration quickly overwhelming any traces of her smile, “I’ve spent so long building this empire. This image. My family and--”

“And the things you love, that you throw your whole heart into, aren't as disposable as you want to think.” Kara boldly notes, watching the way Cat's fingers barely flex and leaning closer before she can pull away, voice quiet, because she doesn’t think this is about them, she knows it’s about Cat. Cat’s happiness. And to Kara, that's more important than them. “I don't know what you're thinking of, Cat. I just know... you're not happy with the way things are here, anymore. I get it. And I know you could never leave CatCo or anything,” She laughs at the ridiculous thought and looks curiously at the profile of a woman who suddenly seems content to look through the windows to a balcony overlooking her city--content to look anywhere but Kara. “I know we talk a lot about duty and...that people depend on us.” Kara doesn’t like the way Cat seems to be caught outside, reaching forward to gently tuck up a chin--to bring a gaze up to meet her own away from the city they’ve sworn to protect. “But there's so many ways to help the world, aren't there? And if the way CatCo is doing it isn't what you want anymore...then I don't think anyone on this planet--on any planet, and I've been to a lot of them--is more capable of changing the terms of the world to fit how she thinks the world should be. If you’re not happy, you’ll change it.”

“You...really mean that, don't you? You really think it could just be that easy. Just change the world.” Cat scoffs a little, but there's something so hopeful in her eyes, Kara's words a near tipping point in a game of dominoes. Kara doesn't know what she's done, and likely never will. “You’re so young.”

“Maybe.” Kara concedes, “On this subject you’re definitely the mentor.” Her smile turns sheepish, “Okay, on most subjects you’re my mentor. In fact, I’ve spent a long time studying you, Cat--I'm still adamant that that was part of my job description--so you should be able to take my word for why I believe it’s possible. It’s because you’ve already done it. Your whole life. If you're not happy, and I think you deserve to be happy--you deserve...so much. To be happy,” It’s cold when she drops fingers from a chin, offering a supportive smile, instead, “Then you'll find a way. And if there's anything I can do at all, to help…”

A hand waves towards herself--hopeful and eager and honest--not understanding the hint of conflict settling so deeply, however brief, on Cat's features.

It’s only a moment--a flicker of vulnerability--but she’ll never forget it, the faint flicker of something dark casting shadows over the bright light of Catherine’s lips. It makes Kara stumble a little over the words, enamored by it:

“You should focus on it. The being happy part, remember?”

Kara thinks it must be the weight of figuring out what to do with CatCo--even feels a naive, righteous sense of warmth in her chest from having helped in even the smallest ways--and she'll never quite understand the look in Cat's eyes.

Because that’s the thing with those small, hidden moments before everything changes, it’s impossible to recognize them as lasts until they’re gone. Kara has pockets full of moments just like this one stuffed in a hidden compartment by her heart--her mother’s fingers skimming along the edge of a necklace as she explains love; her father’s eyes brightening as he taps knuckles along a sculpture; Astra’s lips in a dream brushing over her forehead; and this, this moment of Cat’s eyes haunted and conflicted, holding onto something like a planet that’s turning green from the inside out, determined to take the galaxy with it.

Kara towers over Catherine and watches green eyes catch in the sun, the memory burnt on the back of eyelids with a unforgiving sting of a fountain pen. There’s a breath that tumbles from Catherine’s parted lips that means something in its indefinite silence--that hints towards a lifetime of possibilities unsaid--and Catherine almost says something--maybe almost says everything --and this small, simple little exchange is what will play on repeat for months.

Kara Danvers will play it over and over and over again like nails desperately scratching at a broken record. She'll replay the way Cat's hair falls in front of her eyes as her nose dips. The way that her eyes almost shine above those shadows of her cheeks. The way her breath rattles and quakes. The way those fingers curl nails in anxiety and promise.

The way Catherine's lips part and she...says nothing, at all.

What did you want to say?

Kara will beg her to say it. She’ll never scream--never fall to her knees in rage and loss--she’ll never argue or even actually ask anyone but a figment of a ghost of someone she swore not to love--she’ll beg an empty corner of her bed that’s no longer cold, and that’s worse, somehow.

But right now, happy and light and carefree, Kara doesn't notice, instead drumming her fingers on the edge of a desk with a light shrug, too busy trying to pull Cat out of her own head to dive into it, instead. Because that’s her job, these days, she feels, even when she doesn’t exactly have one--to keep Catherine from collapsing in on herself like a singularity with hope and love, alone.

“I was only kidding about not getting you coffee.” Kara smiles and Cat's eyelashes flutter as she lets out that almost quivering breath, nails curling into her desk. It must be nerves or exhaustion but Kara is determined to help cure either, promising, “Let me go grab it for you. Before you can tell me it's not my job, I want to.” A genuine smile, “The little things. I won’t be able to come back here today, anyways, so I’d...like to.”

A foot turns on a heel, intent on walking away and she makes it to the door, fingers curling around warm metal but knowing better to raise the blinds until Cat is ready. Something else she'll have to inform Eve and she's so focused on mentally running through the list in her desk--distracted by the thought of making sure that Ms. Grant has the best replacement possible (did she miss telling Eve anything, while she's here?)--that she almost misses the way Cat's voice quakes when she barely whispers her name.

“Kara?”

Another turn on her heel with a soft hum of question, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of a nose. The sun has settled in Golden hair and showcases the shadows underneath eyes and for one of the few times Kara will ever see it, Catherine Grant visibly hesitates.

Her mouth stills--words halt--and her lips press a thin line. The smile that follows is forced but genuine, something deep cemented in resolution in the depth of her lover's eyes as she jokes:

“My hero.” There’s a quiver at the edge of her lips--a shine to that endless, painting of eyes before Cat’s looking back down. Back to work. “Scalding hot, please.”

But there sounds like there's truth in it--like Cat believes she's a hero through and through--and it makes Kara beam, turning around to get that third latte of the day.

“Anything for you, Ms. Grant.”

Her phone dings at Noonan’s ten minutes later, a freeze-frame of stolen pictures and smiling eyes there to greet smiling eyes.

Thank you.

Teeth tuck at lips and when her phone buzzes again, blue soften and for a second the latte she’s grabbed might actually feel warm against her open hand.

“Boyfriend?” Eve’s tired voice--Kara sympathizes because boy does she still remember her first day, even if this is technically Eve's second--calls around her shoulder, light and kind and knowing and she quickly tucks away her phone, shrugging a shoulder.

“Just a nice text for a nice day.” She offers, instead, eyes flicking down to the mug before raising it up, “Think you’re ready to deliver this one on your own?”

Eve looks terrified.

“Oh, come on, I promise, it won’t be that bad. You’ve done it twice and she hasn’t killed you, right?”

Kara takes another look at her phone, wise enough to hide her smile, this time.

I’m sorry.

A quick reply hidden by her hip--

I’m sticking by the goldfish. It’s forgotten. Really. We’re more than ok Cat. Eve’s bringing you your caffeine fix so please be nice.

Adding for good measure--

Please be nice *Ms. Grant*. Typo?

Even better measure:

Ms. Grant, who has the right to fire anyone she wants but should be nice anyways. ;) Gosh, look at those typos.

She can hear Cat’s indulgent, annoyed sigh forty floors down. The blinds are back up and Kara smiles over Eve’s shoulder the entire time when Cat shoots her a knowing look but wordlessly takes the latte and that’s enough of a victory for Kara. It should be a simple moment, lost and forgotten, moving about her day with no clue--no idea.

“You don’t work here, anymore, Kiera.” Cat calls to her with a glance at a watch, “Seven hours.”

“Yes, Ms. Grant. Consider me not here.”

“Like anyone could shield their eyes, you're like a walking Forever 21 ad.” But Catherine’s smiling now with a flick of a dismissive hand, Eve looking after her like she’s awaiting a nuclear bombing.

Kara’s decidedly not a goldfish. She doesn’t forget.

She sighs in a big, white, empty office, fingers running along stuffed-away pictures, sagging onto a table as she drums fingers along her desk and frowns.

Idly, she plans to get a picture made of the one of Cat on her phone--plans to gently tuck it in a safe place right next to J’onn--and leaves before she can think anymore about a ticking clock, sipping on her own coffee, not bothering to heat it.

Lena’s name lights up the screen of her phone and Kara shoots up into the sky a few minutes later, unable to shake the look on Cat’s face, leaning over a desk, a thousand words left unsaid, and Kara isn’t sure why.

It's the beginning of an end--such simple things usually are--and anytime Kara ever thinks back on it, she'll cry.

--

The last thing she sees is Kal-El, stumbling and just as powerless as her, diving after her over the edge of the bridge, whatever words croaking out of his lips lost to the sound of the wind.

khap zhalish

The last thing she hears is the sound of Metallo hitting the water and going silent.

--

“Alex, I’m not saying I’m going to Metropolis, I’m just--”

“Leaving? What is that like our family motto? Did you ever stop to think that I’ve changed my whole life --”

--

The last thing she does is smile up at Kal-El, trying to assure him as best she can, despite the fear that slowly settles in the pit of her stomach. Falling, at least, feels a lot like flying.

--

“J’onn?” Kara whispers, fingers tenting over a knee as her chin falls down to it, eyes flicking over towards the familiar, somber face. He hums in acknowledgment, the afternoon sun painting the shining floors of the new DEO building in a way Kara is still getting used to. Everything is so...shiny now. Not all...rock-lair, cave-motif.

“Supergirl?” His voice is gruff as always and she wonders if he would understand what it’s like to not sleep for nearly six days, because she’s certain he sounds like he’s never slept, at all.

“Do you think we can ever be happy? I mean, sure we can, right? Saving the world...” She trails off, chin tipping back as she searches the lines of an exposed ceiling, the words to her question lost on her tongue, unsure how to phrase it outside of her mind, “I know we’ll stop Cadmus--I mean, who comes up with a name like that, anyways? What does that even mean--and we’ll stop whoever comes after that, and I know that the world is full of rules . Especially for people like us. But one of those rules...one of those rules has to be that we should be happy, right?”

“I think…” Kara doesn’t look at his face, but his voice sounds so calm--so confident--so steady as his fingers curl around her shoulder, “If there’s anyone that deserves to find out, it’s you and your cousin.”

“You think?”

“I know , Ms. Danvers.” She turns to take in his smile, then, and she leans into his hand before the squeeze becomes a pat. “You’re still not sure which job--”

“No.” Kara sighs, “It's not that. I think I know, I just...I wonder some days if--I mean, between Alex and Kal-El and Cat--”

“J’onn!�� A voice calls around the corner, “We’ve got reports of a jumper on--”

--

The last thing she thinks before the impact of the ocean engulfing her like an unwanted gift, the pain rattling like a broken baby’s toy through her shattering bones, is that Eliza? Alex?

Catherine?

They’re going to kill her if she dies.

The water soaks through her suit, ice and lifeless, staining the white of a list until it crumples so that when it’s unfolded, for the rest of its life, it will never unfold the same way, again. Like the thin line of glass that can never be repaired to its first form, an uncompleted list will crumple at the edges and fold in uneven lines, some of the ink running at the edges.

It will change--break and mend--just like a heart can.

--

Rule #72….

--

Life isn’t as dramatic as the movies--as the books she spent years pouring over bent knees devouring--and maybe hurtling herself and a man bent on destroying dozens of people (herself and her cousin, included) off of a bridge is maybe a little dramatic by nature, but waking up from it isn’t.

She wakes up to an empty room, the heat of a sunlamp staining the rise and fall of her chest with life.

She wakes to a dozen voicemails and one text, in particular, that makes her swallow--she wakes to Kal-El’s smiling, cut face as they both heal--she wakes having not really slept, at all, five and a half days lacking it settling down her healing bones underneath a false Sol just as much as the Kryptonite had.

She wakes up to J'onn's nervous eyes and Alex gone and doesn’t let herself heal and Kal-El doesn’t ask her to. She wakes to her sun having set and the world tasting like cold and green and she tucks a bracelet back in her pocket, not having let go of it for a moment--a breath--the entire time she laid there.

Kara wakes up, maybe, but she doesn't feel awake.

Kara tears apart the city to find her sister and doesn’t let her go when she does, a murmured apology in her ear that’s doubled ten-fold against her neck.

She wakes and heals and saves and a few hours later, all four of them--J’onn, Kal-El, Alex, and Kara--are once again in two separate cities, determined to protect the people within them, moonlight at their backs.

Death doesn’t stop them, and neither does Metallo. She rips out his heart and barely keeps from crushing it beneath her palm.

Kara doesn’t remember being in the water--doesn’t remember much save for falling--but she’ll see the headlines of the image of Superman cradling her body against his chest as he stumbles out of the ocean like a beacon as he holds her , a bracelet limply hanging from her fingers as the sun settles on his shoulders and dances shadows on her bruised, barely recognizable features. Both of their forms cut and bruised and hanging on the edge of life, war-torn and martyrs.

She’ll see the picture hung on the edge of what was once Catherine Grant’s wall, along with their other highest-selling covers--right next to the one of them both healing, scraped and bruised, towering over Metallo--for months every time she walks into the office and feels a chill hang over her features.

She doesn’t remember, but she’ll see that picture and will shatter a breath against her teeth and understand why Cat couldn’t bear to look at it, at all.

The whole night is spent tracking Cadmus with little to show for it and, eventually, in the early hours of the morning--day 6 because being in some kind of coma or something does not count as sleeping--Kara hugs Kal-El tighter than anyone else could, feeling Alex’s fingers on her shoulder, and tells him that she’s staying.

She’s staying. That’s a decision she knows how to make. She’s not going to Metropolis. She’s never going to Metropolis, not as long as Alex is here.

So Kara watches him shoot off into the twilight sky, taking a piece of herself with him--thankfully taking the last of the Kryptonite, as well--before she kisses her sister’s cheek and shoots off, herself.

It’s nearly five in the morning when she sets down on a familiar balcony and wonders why she isn’t surprised to see Cat leaning on the edge of it, swirling a glass in her palm. Either she stayed here the entire night--unlikely, given Carter--or just started early, but the circles unhidden, silhoutting the features of familiar eyes is telling, enough, and Kara has to swallow down more than breath when she comes closer.

Without a word, bruised fingers gently untuck a bracelet from a suit, a little squeezed but since cleaned (haphazardly cleaned in a DEO sink by her cousin at Kara’s pleading, pleading look, and then feverishly cleaned the moment Kara could stand on trembling knees an hour later) and offers it palm up to the woman next to her as their shoulders brush, settling next to her on the balcony.

It’s not unusual that Kara doesn’t know the right words to say--it’s a daily occurrence--so when Catherine takes a long, long drag of the liquid before reaching forward, nails almost reverently skimming along the expensive, bent bracelet, Kara doesn’t bother trying. Instead, she just holds the bracelet up as Cat becomes reacquainted with it--dips fingers underneath the shine of it--and when her lover’s breath finally rattles into the night, Kara doesn’t mention the wet sheen to dark eyes, clear even so high above the city, lights dim and quiet. She just gently unhooks the bracelet and slides it around Cat’s wrist, raising it up to her lips and kissing it in silent apology, just as she had before plummeting into the ocean. Not that she would tell Catherine she’d done that, at all.

That doesn't seem like knowledge that would help.

At least this time, she feels a heartbeat flutter underneath her touch.

And Catherine’s so slow about it, the way her wrist turns and so carefully cups Kara’s cheek in a trembling palm, thumb brushing over the high rise, underneath the worst of her still-healing cuts, that Kara wouldn’t know the words even if she tried to stumble over them.

“That is not what I meant by diving. You certainly like causing a spectacle of yourself, don’t you?” It’s a dry whisper--like a barrel full of whiskey, a burning match hovering above it--and Kara just leans into her. It’s been a long day and there’s familiarity in it, a hint of a laugh flushing cool cheeks.

“Someone likes to tell me I like being difficult.” Kara swallows because the thin smile Cat’s attempted gives way to something else, leaning down to slot their foreheads together and the quaking anger does little to overrun the hint of something far worse on her lover’s tongue.

“We have nearly three dozen witness testimonies regarding your idiotic heroics, and none of them understood the gravity of what happened in front of them. Pictures showing you bleeding before you practically backflipped off of the bridge. You could have--”

“I came home to you.” It’s gentle and loving and a little desperate, lips brushing over a forehead and Cat’s fingers tangle so tightly in her suit that she can barely breathe. “Catherine--”

“You’re still bleeding.” It’s a searing breath that curls up in pain at the end, Cat’s fingers tracing the wound below a bloodshot eye and Kara catches her wrist with a faint wince as that jaw lines itself with steel and features contort in something indistinguishable before Catherine pulls away altogether. Voice far colder: “You missed your deadline--”

Kara selfishly kisses her like her life depends on it--like she can’t catch Catherine with fingers or words, so she tries chasing her with this, instead--pressing her up against glass with a withering, breaking sigh against parting lips. Fingers tangle in her hair and the sound of a bracelet clattering to the floor is lost underneath the scratch of heels, because Kara had forgotten to re-clasp it.

“I don’t care about my deadline.” Kara kisses her again because the further and further Kal-El shoots into the sky, the further the green seeps out of her bones and she knows she can keep Cat here against her with super-strength, but she’d rather keep her with something far darker in the pit of her chest. Almost accusing: “You came up here to wait for me.”

“I wouldn’t--” Catherine practically hisses , a frustrated breath on the edge of her tongue rolling like a locomotive up her lungs, her hands cupping cheeks and tugging her close. “ Yes . I had to see you with my own eyes.”

“I’m right here.” Kara promises, pulling away so that Cat’s fingers can trace every single line of her face like her thumbs are far more knowing than her eyes. And they might be. She sucks in a sharp breath when a thumb swipes underneath that same cut, surprised when Cat tugs her down and gently brushes lips underneath the puckered edge of healing skin.

Catherine kisses her again, consuming and rough, and Kara’s knees shake before she's suddenly pushed her away, again, just as rough and just as consuming, jaw setting.

“We’re crashing the cover.”

“You’re--” Kara blinks because it’s five AM and she doesn’t know how she missed the noise--the life in the building--because her ears are still full of Kryptonite and her lungs might still be full of water, “Oh.”

“You don’t work here, anymore.” Cat straightens her hair--her blouse--sets aside her drink and stands taller than Kara knows how to, shoulders wilting and something quaking pushing through parted lips.

“...oh.” A hint of a desperate laugh, wishing she at least had the bracelet to hold onto because suddenly she feels very, very cold, surprised when fingers gently tuck up her chin and she comes face to face with Catherine’s determined, unwavering gaze. There’s something sad there, now--something Kara’s well aware she’s put there--and it makes her swallow feel like glass. But still she can’t stomach the thought of Metropolis, not now. Not after holding Alex’s trembling hands and not after seeing the look in Cat’s eyes. “I’ll--”

“I extended your deadline.” Cat whispers and Kara blinks.

“You--” Another blink, unable to help the surprise. A third blink because-- “Really?”

“Kara, I’m tough, not cruel.” Her voice is quieter, then, fingers falling from a chin and Kara boldly catches them.

“I don’t think you’re cruel, I just--”

“Thought that I was going to fire you for trying to save someone’s life on the off-chance that you were stupid enough to die?” Cat supplies and Kara swallows.

“Well, I--no? Not exactly...that. Maybe fired me to make a poi--”

“Stop talking before you dig yourself into a hole superstrength wouldn’t get you out of. I’m well aware of what people think of me, I don’t need to add what your pedaling little thoughts are to the--”

Kara reaches up to cup her cheeks in a way that makes Cat visibly tense, words dying out before she smiles, “You don’t want to hear that I think the world of you? I know it’s a little too cheesy for your tastes.”

“You really have to stop talking.” Cat warns but there’s a hint of a smile there, now, and lips brush over a forehead, holding the smaller form against her chest for as long as she’s allowed. Which is longer than expected, long fingers gently raising to spread out over a heart as a nose slots against a neck. Kara can feel the heat of the sun--faint and faraway, but there--on her back by the time Cat untangles herself, a rough sigh sliding past her lips. She bends down and clasps the bracelet properly on her wrist, now.

“Catherine,” Kara murmurs before she can go too far, kissing the rise of knuckles before letting her lover go, completely, “I’m not saying that I think what I did was...okay. I’m not trying to make you feel better, but I...did. Come home to you. I’ll always come home to you, if I can. You’re--you’re what gave me the strength to--”

Cat raises a hand up in-between them, stopping Kara in her tracks, and the look on her face, however brief, is pained enough that Kara feels regret over saying anything at all. The bracelet jangles as the hand lowers and the CEO of CatCo looks back towards her lit office, shoulders straightening and heels clicking, a discarded drink on the nearby balcony table.

“You have until Friday afternoon, 4 O’clock, not a moment later. You’re not stepping foot here in any form of professional capacity until then.”

“Okay.” Kara breathes--nods--looks back up and clears her throat at the straight line of shoulders she wishes she could spend hours easing the knots out of with well-intentioned fingers. Knots she caused. And she thinks Catherine was right, this weekend--she does have to learn how to live with affecting her. “Thank you...Ms. Grant.”

Cat nods and leaves and the balcony feels colder for it.

As cold as the city seems without Kal-El--without Kryptonite, even--and Supergirl turns to tower over her city for a few more minutes before falling down to the street, to the corner around the corner, leaning against the wall by Noonan’s.

She strips off her suit and slowly pulls up jeans--a shirt--and looks down at glasses, cracked along an edge she’ll need to fix, cupped in her palm as the sun starts to rise. She listens to the city wake and the life paint the streets in gold and red and green and with a suit tucked in her bag, a cut slowly healing underneath her eye, Kara Danvers starts the long walk home to an empty apartment across the city.

Alive and exhausted and cold, she doesn't really feel like flying. 

 --

 **Kryptonian Translations, Mythos, and other DC shenanigans** Source(s) Language **Zhalish: Pardon, excuse, absolve, disregard, exonerate. Another way of saying "I'm sorry". verb P: [n̩.ʒæ.liʃ]; Kryptonian: :ZAliS

[dominodebt]

a wip to prove I’m not dead

HEY KIDS so idk how many of you follow me on twitter but I’ve been very chatty about this Original Thing I’m doing and for some reason these past two weeks I was suddenly like “fuck it. I wanna work on that” and hit 50k words which as someone who typically hovers around 3-5k per story, is a pretty cool thing!

but now the first big arc of that thing is done and I’m not really down with sharing it quite yet because it’s very rough and being edited right now by some pals of mine, so maybe when it’s a little more polished I’ll share some? who knows!

ANYWAY fanfic is a thing and now that my original stuff is on hold I’m diving back into it. Here’s a Fire Emblem: Fates piece that I’ll have finished soon. It looks at Kamui’s (Corrin’s) life and upbringing in Nohr, particularly her relationship with Marx (Xander) so here’s the first bit of that!

for those of you who may not know the story? Kamui was kidnapped as a child from her “home” (complicated) of Hoshido to Nohr. the game never really touches on how she’s treated initially or how she mixes in with Nohr’s royal family and I liked the idea of Marx having to kind of shoulder the burden all on his own.

Sorry for the big hiatus, but Author Mom should be settling back into things and cranking out fics again real soon!

(if you ever wonder where I am or why I’m not writing or I’ve missed an ask of yours, I’m on my twitter like all hours of the day so that’s always a good place to contact me <3)

“She’s just up these stairs, milord.”

          Gunther’s voice is a deep rumble in his chest as he lifts the lantern in his hand a little higher to illuminate the steps. The flickering firelight throws shadows across his face, highlighting the places where battles and age have carved out their place.

           Prince Marx nods stiffly, trying not to shiver as he draws his cloak tighter around himself, following the knight up the narrow stairway.

           “Is this part of the castle not kept warm?” Marx asks as they continue their climb.

           Gunther laughs hoarsely, and his breath clouds before him. Marx’s jaw tightens. He has his answer.

           “No one’s lived in the Northern Fortress for ages, milord,” Gunther explains. He grabs the young man’s arm, quickly pulling him off his course. “Watch your step. This staircase is crumbling.”

           Sure enough, the stonework begins to collapse where the prince had stood just a moment before, and he eyes it darkly as they climb higher.

           “Is this safe?” Marx demands, still frowning at the ruined patch of staircase. “The girl could die if she isn’t careful moving about this tower.”

           Gunther casts the prince a sideways look as they reach the top of the stairs.

           “If I may speak frankly, milord,” the old knight rumbles. “I doubt the thought crossed His Majesty’s mind.”

           His words draw a scowl from the prince—an expression of deep disdain already familiar on his young face. Gunther would feel sorry for him—ten and five is too early for such anger and scorn—but there is no other way to survive in Castle Krakenburg.

           One must armor themselves in their hate, lest they be overtaken by the backstabbing liars that fill this place.

           “A fair assessment,” the prince remarks stiffly as they arrive at the landing. Gunther reaches out to pull open the door, but pauses when Marx lifts a hand.

           “Milord?” Gunther asks, but Nohr’s heir pays him no mind as he raps twice on the ancient wood, the sound echoing loudly in the lofty tower.

           Silence answers the summon, and neither man is surprised.

          “Guard the stairwell,” Marx orders him lowly, and Gunther obediently steps back to do so as the prince pulls the door open and sweeps inside, pitch cloak swirling behind him like a wayward shadow as the air rushes out.

           The room is sheer cold—a raw, biting chill that steals the breath from Marx’s chest as he exhales a shaky cloud through gritted teeth. He steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him—what, to not let the cold in?—and makes a note to pull whatever strings he must in order to warm this room by tomorrow.

           “Hello?” he calls, glancing around. The room is small, backlit by the moon’s pale glow and washed out in its eerie silver light. Marx takes another step, and hears a small sharp intake of breath.

           His eyes snap to the noise—dark gaze picking her out in the whiteout of the room.

           She cuts an impossibly small figure, silhouetted against the Nohrian moonlight as she is. Her hair is matted and darkened with blood—eyes wide and fearful and as red as the crimson stains on her dress.

           Marx stares, completely at a loss.

           A child.

           “A Hoshidan princess,” his father’s retainer had announced.

           “A bargaining chip,” Gunther had murmured darkly.

           Marx cannot bring himself to look away—trapped in her troubled ruby gaze. A child.

           His thoughts spring to Elise and Leon—both children in their own right, this girl hardly older than them—and he grits his teeth as panic blooms hot and tight in his chest.

           This is wrong. This is so terribly, terribly wrong—

           The prince swallows hard, dropping down into a crouch to level himself with her. She’s still a few feet away, and he doesn’t dare move closer.

           “It’s all right,” Marx murmurs, calling upon the low, gentle tone he reserves for his siblings and spooked horses. He holds out a hand, but she gasps and spins away, hiding her face in the tattered curtains that hang from the window.

           Marx watches her for a moment before smoothly withdrawing his hand, berating himself.

           Of course she’d be afraid of him. Of course. She’s young and scared and alone and covered in her father’s blood. She is a thousand miles from home and locked in a drafty fortress with strangers at every turn.

           He watches her, idly wondering if he’d not been in the room when his father had returned—if he’d not heard of the girl’s arrival himself and decided to investigate—if anyone would have come to check on her.

           The thought—and its definitive answer—makes his blood boil in the frozen room.

           “My name is Marx,” he tells her softly, still holding her gaze. He’s not sure if he could look away if he tried. Her eyes are luminous in the dark of the tower—glowing like cursed rubies as she peers at him from around the curtain. They draw him in like moth and flame. “May I hear yours?”

           He lets the silence wash over them, content to go at her pace—he knows what it feels like to be pushed and prodded and provoked—and in the settling quiet, hears a strange noise he hadn’t caught before.

           A bizarre series of clicks? Marx tilts his head, glancing around as he tries to place the sound, and realizes it’s coming from the girl—who stands trembling with cold, teeth chattering as she tries desperately to hide herself in the ruined curtains.

           Marx’s heart—ironclad and cold like the country he will inherit—crumbles to dust at the sight.

           In a swift movement that startles a gasp out of the girl, Marx unclasps his cloak and removes it with a flourish, the thick wool heavy in his hands as he folds it up as neatly as he can and sets in on the floor before him.

           The girl seems torn between eyeing the strange new parcel and keeping the prince in her sights, so Marx decides to make things easier for her and leave. He taps the cloak as he rises, meeting her gaze as kindly as he can.

           “For you, if you’d like it,” he tells her gently.

           Her blood-red gaze drops down to the cloak, but then darts up to his just as quickly. She doesn’t move.

           With a quiet sigh, Marx straightens back to his full height—unable to miss how the girl shrinks from him as he does so—and turns to leave, rejoining Gunther back on the landing as he closes the door to her room behind him.

           Gunther lifts a split eyebrow as the prince idly inspects the tarnished lock and keyhole, adding more things to his growing list.

           “That was quick,” he notes, and Marx just hums noncommittally, still lost in his thoughts.

           “When does my father plan to return her?” he eventually asks, cutting a sideways glance at Gunther.

           The old guard lifts his eyebrows, weathered face awash in the flickering fire of his lantern.

           “Return her, milord?” he questions, uncertainty coating his words.

           Marx waves a hand impatiently. “Yes, return her. To Hoshido. To her home.”

          Gunther just stares back at him—as he often does—simply waiting for the young prince to come to his own conclusion. That knowing look of a teacher, silently urging him on…

          Come now, Marx. You’re a smart lad. Figure it out. You can do it.

          “He means to keep her here.” The chill of Marx’s realization could rival the frigidity of a Nohrian winter. “Indefinitely.”

          Gunther gazes back at him, expression painfully neutral, and Marx looks away with a disgusted scoff—curse his father to all seven Hells—and begins to descend the staircase.

           “Milord?” Gunther calls after him, hastening to follow. “Prince Marx, where are you going?”

           “To get firewood and spare blankets,” Marx returns bitterly. The chill of the fortress rushes to meet him as he makes his way down, and he reflexively reaches for the clasp of his cloak to draw it tighter, when he remembers it is now in the possession of another.

[nyxysabyss]

LEVEL HORIZON; YEAR THREE 6/9; Celestial Limit

Chapter 23!

I’m not afraid of death. It’s the stake one puts up in order to play the game of life. ~Jean Giraudoux

When I saw you, I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew. ~Arrigo Boito

Daichi Sawamura’s calf muscles are cramping from crouching in the brush for so long.

It’s been a solid fifteen minutes of nothing but waiting and he can feel the tension in his leveler beside him, his hair silver under the moonlight. Tanaka is surprisingly calm and focused, but Daichi can only see black in his eyes in the filtering torchlight. He can’t tell if it’s just the poor lighting or if they are actually blown wide with nerves, but he’s guessing the latter. He himself has had the urge to fidget and shift so badly for the last five minutes that he can’t imagine how Kageyama is holding out.

“Snakes have a five to ten meter buffer zone where they can sense all warm life, so it is impossible to sneak up on them. They sense body heat, and your wings will give you away. Which means, I’ll need to borrow your leveler for the first part where we shut down the alarms, Feathers. He’s the only other non-winged person here.” Kuroo had said.

“What about Kenma?” Kageyama had said with a dark look.

“Kenma isn’t much of a combatant; he will be standing by with our means of escape at our rendezvous point. I’d rather have someone with me who I know can handle themselves in a confrontation and will have my back, anyway. I trust your shrimp.” The avian prince had been ready to argue, his cobalt eyes snapping with more homicidal emotion than Daichi had seen from him in a long while.

“I’ll go.” Hinata had said before he could speak. “I want this to work. If this is what I have to do, then I’ll go.”

“Rest assured, Feathers, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think he could handle it. And if I don’t bring him back to you, you can bank that I’m not returning either.”

Kageyama hadn’t fought him, but Daichi could tell that he’d hated it all the same— hated it with a level of disquiet worse than their big fight that had left his wings bald. And Daichi had known it had to have taken a soul fracturing effort for Kageyama to control his instincts and let the redhead follow the cat into the darkness a short while ago without a word of protest.

As he watches the crow setter’s gaze flit between the few buildings that mark the holding point’s location, he can see the tension in his body. Everything is taught, from the leaping muscle that betrays his jaw’s rigid set, to his hand that grips a low branch for balance in a vice hold, to his wings that are pulled into an agitated display, to his knee dropped beside a foot as he slowly leans ever more forward.

He knows the younger crow didn’t sleep last night… he doubts any of them had found much. Koushi had lain down, but Daichi hadn’t felt him relax enough to convince him he’d actually slept. The cats had stayed outside to avoid disturbing them with restless pacing. He’d glanced up more than once when Tanaka had risen to go stare out the window for long minutes with a hard look. Hinata had crawled into Kageyama’s lap where the avian princeling had wrapped him in an uncompromising embrace and buried his face into the crook of the redhead’s neck.

Daichi feels a pang for the former young king. They were just starting to bring their relationship the next step forward— there’s so much they have yet to experience and share… and now Kageyama is stuck waiting for an uncertain answer to the question of their future. Daichi doesn’t know if he could have done the same if it were Suga instead.

The softest rustle has the large crow reaching possessively for his leveler. The black cat’s training in stealth and awareness has definitely paid off as he and the three other avians turn as one toward the sound, tensing defensively and ready for a fight. But it is only Kuroo followed closely by Hinata, slipping through the underbrush.

The redhead immediately finds Kageyama, readily allowing the crow to snatch him forward into a relieved chokehold. As the redhead’s gaze flickers toward himself and Suga, he catches a look in them he recognizes in the dim light from the building torches. He knows it, because he’s also experienced it. Most everyone had missed his mental tailspin in the chaos surrounding the younger level pair’s flight from the rookery, but Suga and Tanaka had been there, and he knows they remember. The hollow resolved look in Hinata’s eyes speaks to the death of innocence.

Hinata... bright, effervescent little Hinata... has taken a life.

Daichi’s heart breaks just a little, knowing that it is something that will irrevocably change the brilliant ball of sunshine.

“My prick of a canine connection has sent these to help us.” Kuroo had said only this morning, producing seven tanto knives and a couple keikan daggers. “Do any of you know how to use them?”

“We’ve been trained on most weaponry.” Tanaka had said frankly, picking one up and eyeing it critically. Daichi had reached for one as well, checking its balance and craftsmanship. They weren’t top end, but neither were they bottom, and for what they needed, they would definitely work.

“Then I hope you remember it. Have you guys ever killed people before?” He’d asked and Daichi had remembered freezing at the question. Suga had stilled beside him, and Tanaka had found his gaze in the abrupt tension.

“I have.” Kageyama had quietly answered first, surprising them all. Hinata had spun on him with shock, the tanto he’d grabbed loosely forgotten in his hands.

“What?”

Kageyama had looked away from his leveler, unwilling to meet any of their gazes. He’d looked like he’d been kicked somehow, as if he were appalled to even be in his own skin.

“It was at the end of the big Gamut Run exercise right before we were upgraded to a full-fledged sentry unit, due for missions. My father pulled me aside and had me kill a bound and condemned man as my final initiant act before he would allow me to move forward with you guys. He said it was so that I wouldn’t freeze when I finally had to do it in a fight… in case there was more than one adversary.” He’d murmured, his eyes completely vacant and voice dead as the memory had overtaken him. Hinata had dropped the knife back on a table and grabbed his arm, his face slack.

“Is that why you barely said two words the whole next week?” He’d asked softly, his other hand rising to trace an index finger over his leveler’s cheekbone as his cerulean gaze had focused back on him. Kageyama hadn’t responded, but he hadn’t pulled away either.

“So have I.” Daichi had murmured, drawing their attention. After Kageyama’s admission, it had suddenly been easy to voice his own.

“You, too, Daichi?” Hinata had asked weakly.

“Mine was the day right before you guys came back after you were grounded. We were scouting one of the outlying areas and got into a scrap with some hawks. I’d snapped the guy’s neck before I realized it.” He says, his eyes finding the floor, and he feels his leveler drift closer to him, a silent vote of support.

“He took after Suga. He had it coming.” Tanaka had said sullenly, his arms coming up across his chest and his face pulling into a scowl.

Daichi knew the bald crow had been attempting to stem the bout of depression that inevitably accompanied the memory of feeling the man’s neck just… ‘click’... in his grasp, and the quickly following realization that he’d just ended a life. On purpose.

The guy hadn’t died immediately. It had taken a minute or two during which the only part of him that still moved— his eyes— had wildly flickered around at him, at Suga, at everyone, completely fractured with fear as he slowly suffocated due to paralysis of his lungs. When they’d finally turned glassy, the large crow had been shaking so badly that he’d had to sit down. The had been lucky that the confrontation was over as quick as it had started, and he hadn’t been stuck dealing with his gut-wrenching reaction while trying to defend himself from another attacker.

But it had allowed the full weight of the truth to crash down in its entirety: he’d killed someone. He was the reason that someone else’s life was cut short. He’d been plagued by staggering guilt and questions since then.

Had he really had to kill the hawk? What if he was just following someone else’s instructions? What had he thought in those last couple minutes? Or was there only fear? Did he have a family, someone waiting for him? Children? Did they know that their wait would be forever now? Had he had a leveler and he’d actually killed two people?

More than once Koushi had come and just sat with him in a quiet secluded place, saying nothing and instead, providing silent support just by staying beside him. If they survive, he hopes Kageyama will have the presence of mind to do the same for Hinata now.

��Tobio.” The little redhead’s quiet voice breaks the dark silence. “I’m going to get my sister back. Are you ready?” He asks, and the black resolve in his face is something Daichi will never forget.

He understands the leaded determination swirling inside Hinata; the kid needs a reason to justify having killed someone. Daichi has no doubt that the redhead will stop at nothing to rescue the little girl, and mentally urges him to cling to that. Gods knew, the larger crow is positive the only reason he didn’t lose his mind after he’d killed the hawk was the knowledge that Koushi might have been injured or killed instead if he hadn’t. The crow setter holds onto Hinata a moment longer, then nods.

“There were only three guards at the south alarm tower. They won’t be an issue anymore and we took out another four between here and there. There are plenty left, but I think I can handle the other alarm post alone.” Kuroo murmurs and turns to Daichi even though he still addresses them all.

“The entrance to the vault is just this side of the first building, but there might be more. The shrimp can show you. You will have to clear the guards posted there and then keep a watch while a couple people sweep the inside for Natsu. Your wings will still be a flag, so you will want to lead with Feathers’ leveler to help throw anyone you meet head on. Be quick and don’t hesitate, because they won’t pause in killing you. Be mindful of their reflexes; they’re freaky fast. And um…” Kuroo frowns, his gaze skimming across each of them.

“Try not to sustain injury. Most of their weapons — bolts included— are usually coated with venom; one good strike can kill even if the blow itself might be minor. All the more if one tries biting you. Not every snake will be venomous, but you can bet that if one of them is trying to sink their fangs into you, you will die in agony if they succeed. Most snake venoms are faster acting than your leveler connections can heal, so don’t count on them. I have a couple remedies, but they aren’t guaranteed to save you. Eh, do you…” Kuroo draws a deep breath.

“Do you guys have any questions?” Daichi thinks he hears a note of unease in his voice, and he has to remind himself that this is Kuroo.

The feline didn’t do this kind of thing with others; he worked alone. He’d even suggested that he be the only one to enter the compound and retrieve Natsu at first, but had met opposition from every side. Daichi can tell that he hates splitting them like this, hates that they are in any danger at all. But there is no scenario where retrieving Natsu will not be dangerous.

“I think we’re ready.” Suga says beside him, the black cat swallows hard and nods.

“Okay… I’d rather take your job, but we need that other alarm post out before someone notices anything’s amiss. The full force of a massive snake nest is the last thing we need bearing down on us. So just like we planned, then. I guess… be safe guys. It would be fan-fucking-tastic if we could all go home after this.” The cat says with the slightest hue of nerves.

 “That includes your fuzzy ass. Don’t get yourself iced either.” Tanaka murmurs, before turning to pick his way carefully down into the holding point. Kuroo nods and Daichi exchanges a grasping of arms with the cat as the younger level pair follow the bald crow.

“Good luck.” The large crow murmurs before slipping after the other three, Suga right behind him.

Hinata soon slips into the lead, and takes them swiftly in a wide arc around the cleared forestation, sticking to the shadows until they are right up behind the first building. The redhead pulls his tanto out and leads out first, casually walking up to the building and then skirting its side. For a moment, Daichi wants to ask what he’s doing, but he blinks as he notices his posture.

His steps and demeanor look like Kuroo… relaxed and evenly measured. If a snake senses body heat, someone acting completely normal would be less suspicious than someone acting uneasy. He feels the hair on his neck rise just a bit. For a moment, Daichi can completely believe that he is an elite assassin with his poise and easy silent movements. The kid disappears around the side of the building, there’s a quiet grunt and then nothing.

The next few seconds are nerve wracking. The only reason they know that sound probably didn’t come from Hinata is that Kageyama is still crouched tensely beside them, his eyes fixed on the point where his leveler disappeared.

And then the shrimp’s head pokes back around the side, his small form straining to move something heavy. Kageyama and Tanaka react before Daichi can say anything. Both crows zip over to him, their wings releasing echoes into the silence around them with every beat.

Hinata’s head snaps their way and he automatically drops his burden and catches Kageyama’s shirt, jerking him out of the air. Tanaka lands as well and the shrimp glares at them and puts a finger to his lips. By this point, he and Suga are moving, catching up with the other two as they help the redhead pull the body of a snake out of sight around the side of the building, it’s minimal facial features unnerving.

Daichi can feel his mind shutting down slightly as he numbly stares at the man in horrified wonder. He can see the way Hinata had first buried the long knife in his ribs and then slid it across the man’s exposed neck after he’d collapsed. For the second time, he thinks that Hinata could secretly be an assassin. Kageyama apparently wasn’t the only one who could turn off emotions in a pinch.

Hinata holds up a hand to pause them around the corner before stepping back into the direct light of a torch and Daichi catches a smear of red on his arm.

“Snakes have a harder time feeling body heat through walls and earth so if you are clearing a building or something room by room, approach each with caution. A snake that’s particularly vigilant might still know you are on the other side of the door.” Kuroo had said.

There’s the quiet opening and closing of a door… and then three nearly inaudible knocks on it.

Like a damn breaking behind a lake, energy snaps across his muscles and they all move. Hinata’s warning still sharp in their minds, they all dart around the corner on feather light feet, Kageyama the first to the door.

Three knocks. Three or more adversaries.

There’s a quiet thump as Kageyama bursts in, his tanto already drawn as Daichi, Tanaka, and Suga follow. The room freezes, four glittering pairs of slitted eyes turning their way and a flash of almond.

And then it breaks.

The shrimp pulls his tanto and shoves it into the snake holding him against the wall with a hand around his neck. Kageyama heads straight for the next one beside Hinata, Tanaka for the one sitting at a desk, and Daichi and Suga both round on the last. This one is quick and blocks Suga’s strike, but Daichi uses his tanto sheath to knock him back.

Raising the knife, he sees a flash of circular golden hawk eyes before the two-tone slitted ones of the snake before him take their place, and he brings it down with a sharp intake. The snake jerks away and his aim becomes non-lethal, but Suga’s isn’t so benign. The thrush buries his knife in the snake’s neck, throttling the sound that had been on the verge of escaping it.

Knowing he won’t survive Koushi’s hit, Diachi spins to assist the others, only to find them all straightening already. It had been only moments, but all four snakes lie either dead or dying. Daichi pulls in a breath and tries to flatten out his heart rate as Hinata heads for the door at the back of the room. His hand is closing on the handle when it bursts open and two more snakes push in. Hinata stumbles and Kageyama quickly finds himself the target of one, Tanaka the other.

Daichi’s reflexes vault him forward, the sight of his unit mates under siege enough to blank all thought except what matters.

“Don’t grapple with snakes. Stick with melee. The moment you close a hand on them, they will have a target to aim for.” Kuroo’s voice echoes in his head and at the last moment, Daichi changes action and closes a hand on the snake’s shirt. He hauls on it with all the force he can bring.

If the snake is too busy trying to recover, how is he going to aim for anything?

The snake crashes to the floor and Tanaka quickly takes advantage of his confusion to gain the upper hand and finish him off with one fluid stab to the ribs. When the large crow looks up, he sees that Hinata has failed to remember Kuroo’s advice… but it doesn’t matter much.

The redhead has leaped onto the back of the other snake attacking Kageyama, plunging his tanto into the soft space on top of his shoulder. The snake has no chance to react before Kageyama’s finds his lung from the other side. Daichi sucks in a breath, his adrenaline still spurring his heartbeat and glances at his leveler.

Except Koushi isn’t there.

Daichi feels panic for an instant, his gaze quickly scouring the room. He’s on the verge of tearing the place apart when a sound from the second room draws their attention. They enter to find Suga standing over another snake and wiping his tanto against his shirt with a mildly satisfied expression.

Daichi stares, because homicide isn’t something he’d have ever imagined the thrush being even remotely capable of let alone appearing so unaffected by. The grey-haired setter turns back toward them with a small smile.

“I found the canary.” He says with a wry smirk and Daichi blinks at his poor joke.

Seriously. Who was this guy and what had he done with Sugawara?

“Koushi?” He asks uncertainly and his leveler glances at him with eyes bright.

“I also found the entrance.” He says with a grin and points to a door in the corner. It’s open and Daichi can see stairs leading down below them. He looks to the three younger avians, hating that he’s going to split their unit up even more.

“You guys go ahead, Suga and I will keep watch.” He says.

They nod and disappear down the stairs, the redhead taking the lead once more. Once Daichi can no longer hear them, he turns to where Suga is crouched, studying the snake he’s just killed. The crow frowns.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to imagine what he must have been like.” He says with a small smile. It’s frankly unnerving.

“Koushi… are you alright?” He asks carefully and Suga’s grey eyes find his own with surprise before he breaks out into one of his pure sweet smiles that crinkles his eyes.

“Of course. I can always weep later, Daichi. Right now, I will laugh, because it means I’m still alive.”

Daichi’s eyes widen. Somehow, the thrush’s words put him both at ease and on edge.

“Don’t do anything reckless, Koushi.” He murmurs and Suga chuckles.

“This whole plan is reckless. But I think it’s worth the risk.” He says lightly before looking back at the snake thoughtfully.

“Ne, Daichi. Do you suppose this guy had a family who knew what his day job was?”

The large crow doesn’t know if he should be mortified or awed at the thrush’s calmly morbid thought line. On one hand, he’s happy because it means that the thrush is thinking probably clearer than the rest of them combined… on the other, his demeanor is straight up wrong for Koushi.

Daichi and Suga have barely been standing guard for five minutes before the three are back up, their faces creased with determination. Suga glances their way with surprise.

“That’s not the way down?”

“Oh, it was.” Tanaka grouses darkly.

“Then where’s Natsu?” Daichi asks. Hinata barely falters as he heads for the door.

“She wasn’t there. One of the people said she doesn’t stay down there with them, and they haven’t seen her since yesterday.” He says evenly, his almond eyes fixed coldly ahead of him. “I’ll go through every building here if I have to.”

“Did you run into any snakes down there?” Suga asks.

“We went all the way to where the tunnels let out at the gorge cliffs and only ran into four.” Kageyama says flatly, following his leveler.

Daichi knows what Suga is doing, because he’s doing it, too. Three snakes at the south alarm post, four along the way, one outside the holding cell entry point, seven inside, four down below… that’s almost twenty, and who knows how many more Kuroo’s taken out by now.

The fox had said to expect somewhere around fifty to sixty total. Daichi tries to rack his brain and remember the fox’s sketch as Hinata slips back outside… which one of these buildings had been the barracks again? He’s quite sure there’s probably a good twenty snakes in there alone and they should avoid that one— at least until Kuroo gets back from taking out that other alarm bell and pyre.

Hinata slinks across the way to the building facing the holding point entry. As they trail after him, he pushes open the door and steps inside. No knocks echo back and he’s slipping back out momentarily.

“Supplies.” He mouths and heads for the next building, keeping as much to the shadows as possible, his eyes constantly scanning the vicinity.

Daichi can’t help but feel like they are playing roulette; he really doesn’t want to end up in the barracks. He eyes the other three buildings they haven’t tried yet with misgiving, but Hinata doesn’t waver. They trail after him, making sure to keep a ten-meter radius so he can act as both an advance draw and a distraction for any snake who notices him.

Daichi really has to give Kageyama props; he wouldn’t have near as much faith in the universe if it were Koushi being used as a proverbial lantern.

Hinata reaches the next building, one with light that spills from the windows, and a burst of muffled drunken laughter escapes. Daichi can guess this isn’t the barracks just by the sound; probably their on-site dive. They edge up behind him as the redhead glances into the window. His hand fists and he drops back down out of sight.

“She’s here.” he says in a furious brittle whisper. His next words are nothing but fury. “Kageyama, they hacked her feathers.” Daichi blinks, unsure exactly what that means.

��How many, Shouyou.” His leveler asks.

“Six that I could see. One more at the counter. I’d say at least a couple more to be safe.”

“Well what do we have here? Runaways?”

Daichi spins in place at the sudden leering voice behind him. He can barely glimpse the unexpected outline and his spine goes rigid.

Shit.

“Forget that birds don’t see at night?” The shape asks stepping closer.

Shit, shit, shit.

This is how everything goes to hell, Daichi thinks and throws an arm in front of Koushi.

“How were you planning to leave in the dark? Torches make you an easy target and—”

He stumbles backward with a gasp and Tanaka bursts forth, grabbing Daichi’s tanto. He lands on the snake, driving the blade home and the Daichi blinks as the bald crow silences him. He pulls the knife and hands it back to the former sentry leader and then reaches for another.

His own, Daichi realizes. He threw his own and attacked with mine.

“I vote we not play in the dark. We are at a disadvantage when we can’t see them but they can feel us.” He mutters darkly.

“I vote we move… someone might’ve heard that.” Suga murmurs.

They skirt the back side of the little taproom only to find a back door. Hinata slips inside and there’s a slight rustle and then a single knock. They follow him in to find one snake sprawled in a widening pool of blood, and Hinata steps over him headed for the other door. The redhead peaks through and silently closes it again to another round of raucous laughter.

“There’s a hallway and then the bar. How do you want to do this?” He asks looking up at Daichi. The crow glances around at them in the low lamplight.

“We could try luring a few back first before tackling the rest so we aren’t facing so many at once.” Tanaka suggests. It’s the safer option, but Daichi frowns.

If they dawdle too long, someone will eventually take notice of someone’s absence… or one of the bodies they’ve left lying around. If the cat— skies forbid— bought it, they are flying this mission in some seriously hazardous territory. Daichi wants them out as soon as possible.

“The more time we spend the more likely someone discovers us, and we haven’t seen the cat again, so we can’t be certain the other alarm is down yet. They haven’t been all that skilled from what we’ve seen so far. I think we can take them.” He says.

“So, a brawl it is.” Tanaka says with a leering grin.

“I have an idea… give me two seconds to get out the front door and then bust in.” Hinata says. He’s automatically acting as decoy again, banking that they won’t kill him if they think he’s an escapee, and Daichi can see the dark glower that paints Kageyama’s face. To be honest, he dislikes using the redhead in such a way, too.

“Sounds good. Lead off Hinata.” Suga says with an encouraging smile.

The small spiker nods, reaches out once to Kageyama and turns to the door. He takes a deep breath and wrenches it open. His footsteps pound down the hallway and then echo back from the taproom, the amiable buzz of drunken chatter stalling as he heads for the door.

“Oi, what the fuck?” And then there’s movement as the door opens.

“Hey, get back here, kid!” The door opens again and Daichi moves, everyone on his heels.

“Freakin’ scaleburn. It’s probably Jarda; he’s been told about screwing with the assets. We’re gonna catch it for—”

The snake doesn’t get another word out before Daichi sinks the tanto in his neck, his leveler, Kageyama and Tanaka all pouring out of the hallway just behind him. He pulls it free, leaving the snake to grasp at his bleeding throat, and turns on another as he rises from his seat at a low table. As he sets on him aggressively, he catches sight of at least four others in the room, three fending off his unit mates and one heading for the door.

Kageyama dispatches his opponent and quickly follows the other outside. A flash of orange catches his vision, and he sees one more slit pupiled man grab Natsu’s arm from where she cowers by a wall. Daichi dodges a knife and slips inside the strike to slash the snake’s throat. He turns in time to see the last snake dragging Natsu through the door after the avian prince and scowls.

“Oi, time to go you guys. Our quarry is leaving without us.” He barks at where Tanaka is helping Suga finish off his target. When he’s sure they have it under control, Daichi buzzes for the door as well. As he steps outside, he can see three snakes strewn about in the dim light that filters out around him, Kageyama and Hinata facing two more standing back to back.

A bizarre ‘pkkt’ sound erupts near his feet and he looks down to see an arrow embedded in the dirt.

Fuck. They aren’t invisible anymore.

The other two step out behind them as Hinata drops under a jab and brings his own knife up into his assailant’s gut. Another arrow piffs into the ground by the younger level pair, but a whimper draws their attention. Even if the young avian prince is focused on his opponent, Daichi knows he’s very attuned to the snake who has a hold of Natsu.

Daichi, Suga and Tanaka take off after the little girl and the man jerks her forward and races between the last two buildings and to the edge of the river gorge, before turning back to them. A grim smile creases his face.

“I wondered if that was the kid from Ivoya. She’s why you’re here isn’t she?” He asks and Daichi deduces that he must be the snake that retrieved Hinata’s sister.

Daichi advances, ignoring how another arrow strikes the ground just ahead of himself, the feathering barely having brushed his shoulder. The snake sneers and grabs Natsu by the neck. Her little hands come up to grasp his arm, her large almond eyes welling with frantic tears as he holds her out over the edge.

“Natsu!” He hears the redhead say behind him.

Daichi freezes. He finally gets a good look at her wings as they flap haphazardly— what’s left of them.

Hinata was right. All of her feathers have been cut just past the downy point where they embed in the wing; it’s all but just short of having pulled them altogether and she looks oddly close to what Kageyama had when his wings had gone bald. She won’t even be able to attempt a guided landing; she’ll fall like a stone. Was this her punishment for talking to strangers?

Another arrow strikes the ground.

Their archer must be a novice, Daichi offhandedly thinks with annoyance and takes another step forward.

“I’ll let her go.” The snake threatens.

“Do it and you’re dead.” Tanaka growls.

“Tanpri...” She whimpers.

“We’ll let you go if you put her back down.” Daichi says, attempting to reason with him. The snake stares at him, slitted pupils hard and unyielding.

When a piercing clang breaks across the sky, Daichi isn’t alone when he jars.

Warning bell. Shit. Does that mean Kuroo failed?

He can see Suga glance sharply toward the alert tower as it rings again. More and more echoing chimes fill the air, but Daichi keeps his eyes on the snake holding Natsu’s life in his hand. A slow sadistic smile spreads across his face as the door of the building next to them bursts open and snakes start flooding out.

Ah, hell.

As the first of them hit Hinata and Kageyama, the man lets go of the little girl.

Her screech reminds him of Hinata���s voice as she disappears and he reflexively reaches for her.

“Natsu!” Hinata yells, and Daichi moves to leap before he flinches as another pair of wings nearly bowls him over.

Tanaka launches past him, his wings pushing flat out toward the gorge, and then, as another assailant faces Daichi, the bald crow, too, disappears over the ledge.

The bell rings one last time and then stops, but they are surrounded now. If they don’t figure a way out in the next very short few minutes, they will have a whole bunch more to deal with. If they can get to Hinata and Kageyama and grab the redhead and get off the ground, the only thing they will need to worry about will be the arrows— although he doubts that archer could hit anything.

But there are enough snakes that getting off the ground might prove difficult in the first place. If they can thin them out and avoid injury, they might have a shot.

He throws himself into the melee, hoping to hell that the others remember not to take injury. He focuses on one enemy at a time while still attempting to defend on all sides, but it’s difficult, because they shift between attackers constantly. For the first time, he thanks the Grand King for his brutal sparring sessions. The rookery leader had often encouraged foul play or dirty moves in their bouts, because if they were to ever come up against real enemies, there was little chance they would observe battle chivalry.

The Grand King had been right. And Daichi sees that training manifesting in all of their moves. When on the ground, a bird’s greatest weakness was its wings, something that many years of sparring against the rookery leader’s ‘war dog’ unit had taught them through an unimaginable number of lost feathers. As a result, they all guard them with infinite care, keeping them close against their backs and out of reach.

He manages to take one serpent down and another quickly takes its place. He hears a whoop over his shoulder and knows the freak duo is working as a team and they’ve just brought down another. One, two more go down, but Daichi knows they will tire eventually and their enemy still outnumbers them over two to one.

Oi. Not looking good.

But then another flash of wings as Tanaka crashes to the ground between the younger level pair and Suga and himself, his grey eyes flashing sharply and his scowl murderous.

And there, on his back, clinging to his shirt with a white knuckled grip and feet wrapped around his gut, is a small wiry body with orange hair. Daichi almost wants to tell him to ’at least go put the kid somewhere safer’, but his attention is commanded by the snake in front of him.

The fray around them seems to slack just a moment as soft ringing echoes across the land, the same note as the alarm bell from earlier, long and insistently reverberating. It doesn’t stop and he realizes that it must be the main nest.

What the…were they under attack as well?

He can see snakes pause around them with confusion and he takes a moment to assess his companions. All the avians breathe hard, sweat shining against their skin in the torchlight.

They are tiring.

Just as Daichi is wondering how the hell they are going to survive this, nearly a third of the snakes around them break off, heeding an unspoken order. They melt into the shadows and disappear, leaving the numbers far more even. And as if a switch were flipped, the serpents all resume their attack.

Daichi feels as if they’ve been given a gift, been thrown a lifeline and he can feel his energy levels surge with hope. They all dodge, parry, and attack in fluid tandem, and one by one, the numbers start to slide. Two more go down under Tanaka’s and Kageyama’s blades and then Kuroo bursts from the shadows, his eyes narrowed and lean body flipping into the mess.

“You guys suck at stealth.” He grouses darkly and plunges his tanto into the juncture of Daichi’s most recent attacker’s neck.

“I distinctly remember someone saying they were going to take out the damn bell before they got a chance to use it. We were fine till you woke everyone up.” He growls back.

And then it happens.

Tanaka stumbles. He recovers in a flash and instantly reaches for a wing… where an arrow has pierced it. With a fierce snarl, he snaps the shaft and yanks it out. The younger level pair look over toward him… and it’s a distraction— an opening that the snakes have been waiting for.

One lunges for the avian prince, who sees the strike at the last moment and sidesteps. Daichi would be privately awed at his reflexes if the younger crow hadn’t misjudged his surroundings. Kageyama avoids the strike but trips on the outstretched arm of a former adversary. He’s already overbalanced too far and his wings can’t keep him on his feet and he ends up on his butt.

“Tobio!” Hinata shouts, frantically trying to make his way toward the crow setter where he parries a heavy strike from the snake with his tanto. Daichi is half a step into moving in his direction as well when the snake pulls a second weapon— a dagger, and his mind goes numb.

There’s no way he can get there to stop this. Hinata is already pushing full force toward him, Tanaka, too, but no one is close enough.

Daichi can kill for the people he cares about; he’d learned that three years ago. Daichi won’t stand by and watch one of them die… but what can he possibly do here?

The snake raises the dagger and Daichi sucks in a breath.

And a gleaming flash zips by his head making him flinch. The snake topples backward, a tanto wedged deep between his ribs, and Kageyama regains his feet in an instant. Daichi’s head snaps back to look at Koushi, dread curling in his gut.

The thrush lithely dodges the strikes aimed at him, but Daichi can barely breathe as he ducks one aimed for himself. Sugawara pulls out one of the two keikan daggers Kuroo had given them, but he’s discarded his primary weapon. He’d thrown his tanto— his main offensive capability, to save Kageyama’s life. Daichi’s nerves fray rapidly as he attempts to reach him, to back him up.

And then Suga staggers as well, and when he straightens in surprise, Daichi sees the shaft of another arrow and his heart skips a beat.

Two minutes ago he couldn’t hit a damn thing. Now he’s gotten both Suga and Tanaka?

When he eliminates the next snake in front of him and gets a better look through the chaos, the world slows.

Daichi could fight for his friends, and Daichi could Kill for his friends. Daichi could give up his own blood for his friends, and Daichi could give everything else— his very life— for his friends; what he couldn’t give, was Suga’s.

The archer’s hit his mark this time.

It’s not just a mild wing shot or clipping graze that can be easily dealt with. The arrow has sunk deep into Koushi’s chest, the feathering mere inches from his ribs and Daichi is almost positive that it’s probably gone all the way through and out his back. And where it’s at… it has to have hit a lung.

His leveler’s grey eyes widen just a moment before he jerks, and dodges the snake’s next strike all the same. And as Koushi returns his focus to his opponent, Daichi’s world starts once more, his panic rising and his awareness heightening.

“Suga!” He barks, neatly dodging another snake attempting to take advantage of his distraction. He drives his tanto into the back of his neck as he stumbles by him.

The snake numbers are rapidly dwindling with the appearance of Kuroo to help even the odds, but Daichi honestly couldn’t say how many were actually left. He swiftly strikes another down, his gaze fixed firmly on only one. The thrush seems unfazed by the arrow for the most part and dances out of range of the relentless assailant. Daichi is two steps from the snake, ready to decapitate him, when the serpent finally connects. His blade drags across Koushi’s collarbone and shoulder, slicing through his shirt with ease.

And then Daichi’s strike removes his head cleanly, the snake having no chance.

When he looks back up at his leveler, Koushi’s gone still, a small smile on his face as he watches Daichi scramble toward him.

“Suga!” He says urgently, his hands coming up to the thrush’s arms, terror creeping into his veins. But Suga laughs and brushes him off.

“You really are amazing when you’re fired up, you know that?” He asks as if he doesn’t have an arrow through a lung. The black cat materializes beside him with a scowl, a finger drifting out to trace the cut near his neck.

“I told you not to get hit.” He growls with something of a pained whine. “Not only did you catch an arrow, you caught a knife. We need to get out of here.” There’s an urgency to the cat’s voice when he grabs Suga’s arm and starts drawing him forward.

But Kuroo’s ear twitches and Daichi sees him jerk Koushi backward as another arrow skims by his cheek. The large crow spins, his eyes taking in Tanaka as he helps the younger level pair take care of the last two snakes, Natsu still with her death grip clinging to his back. Daichi is scanning the buildings around them for movement that would betray the archer when Kuroo’s hand closes on his shirt and he jars.

“We need to get out of range. I can’t treat him here. Tanaka’s got the kid, let’s go.” Kuroo says darkly before barking at the other three. “Oi. We’re clear! Come on.”

Kuroo leads them a fair distance into the forest and the dark, their eyes failing them, but they follow with complete faith in the cat. When he stops, Daichi hears the other three right on their tail. Suga sags into his side and he instantly turns toward him.

“Koushi?” He feels Kuroo materialize beside him.

“Sugawara.” He says and Daichi feels his leveler look toward the cat. “How do you feel.”

“Eh… weak?” He murmurs and Daichi’s pulse elevates with fear as he feels the thrush press into him even more.

“No, I mean— never mind. We need to get him to Kenma. I can’t do anything for him here.” Kuroo turns.

“Tanaka, I need you to help Daichi get him back.” He directs.

There’s a soft rustle and a small whimper.

“Eto… she’s kinda bein’ clingy.” He says uncomfortably and Daichi realizes he’s talking about Natsu. He hears Kuroo huff in frustration.

“Can you trust your shrimp to me one more time, Feathers? I’ll be right below you guys.”

The avian prince moves to Koushi’s other side without a word.

“There’s an opening in the tree line right above us. Head east when you’re up. You get up high enough, you should be able to see Kenma’s lantern. It’s about a league out. I hope you know how to hang on Shrimp, let’s go.” He says briskly.

He and Kageyama lift off, each with a hand under one of Koush’s arms. Daichi can barely think above his racing heartbeat, his dread almost suffocating. Koushi has to be alright.

Has to.

They get above the trees, Tanaka right beside them, and the bald crow spots the lantern— a tiny light against one of the far hills. He and Kageyama take off toward it, Sugawara listless between them, and Daichi only grows more anxious as he listens to the thrush’s breathing pick up. He pushes harder and he has to give his former unit mate credit; Kageyama matches him stroke for stroke, hurtling them across the sky.

Tanaka drops back, and for a moment Daichi has to remind himself that the crow took an arrow through a wing; he’s probably hurting as well.

As Kenma’s lantern grows brighter, then clear, then a target they are dropping down on, Daichi sees the golden cat standing by a cart with two horses.

A means to transport non-flying individuals.

When Kuroo had said that, he hadn’t thought it would mean Koushi being so injured. He chances a glance at his leveler and blanches. The front of his shirt is stained black with blood from the knife wound, his skin is pale, and a sheen of sweat shines on his forehead. Daichi nods to Kageyama as they carefully set the thrush down, his leveler offering zero resistance.

Kuroo pushes through the underbrush just behind them, Hinata wrapped around him much like Natsu had been with Tanaka in the fight minutes before. The redhead slips off and Kuroo quickly drops beside the thrush where his legs have folded up beneath him and he leans against Daichi. Kuroo swiftly tears Suga’s shirt away from the knife wound that still readily bleeds as Tanaka drops beside them. The black cat swears and pulls out a packet and when he opens it, the scent of a weed hit’s Daichi’s nose.

“Yarrow?”

“I grabbed some because Yachi used it on Bokuto when he was impaled to stop the bleeding.” He says, pressing it into the leaking cut.

“Sugawara.” He says sharply and the thrush’s eyes focus on Kuroo sluggishly.

“Are you seeing double?” He asks. His leveler frowns faintly and shakes his head.

“Do you feel like you are going to throw up?” Another negative.

“Dizzy.” He murmurs instead, his breathing shallow. Kuroo’s brow creases.

“It’s all wrong. I don’t even know which hit is the one poisoning him— maybe both.”

“Not the arrow.” Tanaka says and Kuroo looks up at him.

“I got one in a wing and I don’t feel nothin’. Just hurts like hell.” He says.

“The cut then. Daichi, what color were the snake’s eyes?” The large crow blinks.

“Huh?”

“The one who hit him. I give him the wrong serum, it’ll just make it worse.” The cat says impatiently. Daichi has no idea. He never got a good look at the snake’s face before he’d swept his head from his shoulders.

“I don’t know.”

“Fuck. Okay… he’s not bruising under the cut and his fingers aren’t turning blue, but he isn’t vomiting and he doesn’t have double vision…” The cat mumbles before frowning and placing two fingers over the thrush’s wrist.

“But a racing pulse. Mamushi?” He says with a scowl and pulls out the two vials the fox had given them and hands one to Daichi.

“Get him to drink this.” He says and turns his attention to the arrow. Daichi takes it and pulls the little cork uncertainly as the cat eyes the shaft.

“At least it went all the way through. We won’t have to deal with the barb being stuck inside him. Thank you whoever invented crossbows.” The cat murmurs as Daichi brings the vile to Koushi’s mouth.

And almost drops it when Kuroo’s hand latches onto his arm in an iron grip. Daichi turns to him with confusion.

“Hold on.” He says with narrowed eyes and Daichi follows his gaze.

A thin trickle of blood escapes from the corner of Koushi’s mouth.

“Suga?” He asks worriedly, and Kuroo is quickly snatching the vile back from him.

“Feathers, did Sugawara cough at all on the way here?”

“No.” Kageyama says and Daichi blinks; he honestly can’t remember the flight much.

“Fuck.” He murmurs more sincerely and Daichi glances at him with alarm.

“What?”

“He didn’t cough so the blood in his mouth isn’t coming from the arrow in his lung. I’m pretty sure I know what was on that knife.” He says with a heavy breath and reaches back into his shirt and pulls out another small vial.

“Yamakagashi. I picked it up on a whim yesterday. I seriously hope there was nothing else on those bolts, Baldy.” He says holding it out to Daichi.

“What happens if there is?” He asks, not moving to take it.

“This serum fails and makes everything worse.”

“You expect me to give that to him?” Daichi asks, his face darkening with fury. The black cat focuses his uneven gaze on him with flat sincerity.

“Yes. You do nothing, he’s dead either way. Yamakagashi venom messes with the blood. It makes you bleed and bleed and bleed. That’s why he’s bleeding from his mouth. You let it go, it causes major organ failure and he will die in agony. It also means I can’t take that bolt out or he’ll bleed out faster.

“I thought it might be mamushi, but his heart rate is up because he’s already lost a lot. You give him this, he might still die, but at least he has a chance. And this is the only option where that chance exists right now. Once we get the venom under control, we can try to take the bolt out. If we can get that far, your leveler bond might just be able to save him.” Kuroo says.

Daichi stares at him for a long moment and looks back at Koushi and the way his grey eyes focus blankly straight ahead. The large crow mechanically reaches for the vial, feeling more than ever as if he’s playing roulette, but in a violent and bizarrely inverted way— like instead of trying not to land on the chance that kills them, he’s trying to land on the one that saves them. Those odds are far worse.

His jaw clenches as he uncorks it and taps Koushi’s cheek, trying to get his attention.

“Koushi.” He says quietly. “Koushi, look at me.” Hazy grey eyes lift up to his face.

“Koushi, my brilliant silver star, I need you to do something for me.”

“Daichi?” He asks with a slight frown. “Dai, it’s fuzzy.”

“I know. I need you to swallow this.” His brow creases and then his mouth quirks.

“I’ll always swallow for you, Daichi.”

For a moment, he can’t believe the words that leave the thrush’s mouth. Of the two of them, Suga is by far the more conscious of their activities around others. Daichi snorts with mild embarrassment on his behalf… and did he just hear a snrrk from Kuroo?  If there was any doubt left in the younger three former sentries’ minds about the nature of their relationship, he knows there won’t be now. If they survive this, his leveler will probably be mortified to learn what he’d said in front of them.

All the same, his chest tightens, because he knows by that response that his leveler isn’t all there anymore.

“No, Koushi. I need you to drink this.” He says with muted urgency, feeling his entire face heating as he holds the vial up in front of the thrush.

Koushi’s brow creases and he reaches for it without hesitation, trusting in him one-hundred percent, but Daichi keeps it out of his reach.

“I got it.” He says and brings it up to the thrush’s bloody mouth. One swallow in and his face wrinkles.

“Tase like blood.” He mumbles and Daichi brushes his lips against his hair in apology.

“I know. But you have to finish it.” He says, feeling sick that it tastes like blood, because Koushi’s mouth is full of it, the thrush’s own life bearing liquid. Suga dutifully swallows the last couple gulps and leans his head against Daichi’s shoulder.

“Okay. Everyone into the wagon. Feathers, can you help Sawamura?” Kuroo asks.

Kageyama is already kneeling to help the larger crow lift his leveler before the black cat finishes asking. They situate the thrush carefully against Daichi in a corner, mindful of the arrow, and when everyone is in, Kuroo looks to Kenma.

“He said they should be able to go for several hours. Head for the coast. I have one more thing I have to take care of.”

“Kuroo.” Kenma says plaintively.

“Relax. It will be fine. Just like old times. I’ll catch you on the flip side.”

“I never liked old times, Kuroo.” He says flatly.

“What’s such a big deal that you have to leave? What if Suga needs you?” Tanaka asks with a scowl. Kuroo glances at him.

“I just have to touch base with someone. They’re the reason we’re all still alive tonight, and they are someone who will come looking if I don’t. They aren’t who you want after you, so I just need to check in. It’ll be fine. I’ll catch up with you in an hour and you’ll never know I was gone. And Daichi,” He says, specifically commanding his attention, “Don’t leave his side. And don’t you dare take that arrow out before I get back.”

“Kuroo.”

“I’ll come back, Kenma. I promise. Now get going.” He says tapping the side of the cart and after a long moment, the golden cat shakes the reigns. As they start off into the night, Kuroo disappears. It sets Daichi on edge.

Tanaka had a valid point. What if something goes wrong with Koushi? None of them knows anything about snake venom. And this ‘blood’ one seems horrible. What if the serum doesn’t work? What if there were other venoms in his system? That meant Koushi would most certainly die, didn’t it?

Diachi knows that he’ll knock off, too, if the thrush goes, and he’s honestly fine with that— he wouldn’t want to remain if his leveler was gone, but he hates the thought of the world without Koushi in it. If Hinata was blazing sunshine with all his burning intensity, Koushi was soft starlight in his pure kindness.

He’d always been beautiful, an ethereal presence to him. He remembers as a small child, seeing Koushi’s hair beneath the moon and thinking even back then how it almost seemed like he was a star given physical form. They’d used to stay up till unholy hours all the time as kids, sneaking out to fall asleep watching the stars on a clear night in the topmost branches of the rookery.

Suga had even asked him at one point why he acted more like an owl than a crow since he liked to stay up so late. It had taken Daichi years to find the balls to answer him honestly and tell him that it was because the stars reminded him of the thrush himself. Brilliant, beautiful, purely divine, and unattainable.

And when he and this perfect avian ended up being levelers, it had felt as if the gods had seen fit to allow that star to fall to earth that he might catch and adore it as a celestial light was meant to be. He, Daichi Sawamura, had been granted the life of a star with all the radiance of the entire night sky to hold in his hands, to nurture and protect.

And right now, Suga is fighting for his life. He’s failed… and Daichi doesn’t think he’s ever felt more helpless.

Distantly, he registers the bells from the main nest still clanging in the distance.

Level Pair ; Chapter 1; Chapter 22; Chapter 24

A/N:  Well. There you are. Actiony/suspenseful enough? Boring? I've honestly never tackled a full scale fight scene like this. I don't know how it came out. Also, I couldn't pick the quote I wanted to use so this one gets two XD

This chapter is over 9200 words, so probably longest chapter of Horizon (or Pair), and with this post, I've eclipsed the total word count of Level Pair, too. Nobody panic, though, I have several chapters left before we are done ^.^ We are looking at 30+

Ha, I'm ALMOST willing to bet that no one will guess next chapter's POV. Almost. B/c if I'm wrong, I'll feel like an idiot and far more predictable than I think I am. But I invite you all to guess!

Oh, right. So, my brother is coming to visit, and I will not be posting either tomorrow (Tuesday) or Thursday evening. Have a crazy night, guys!