#the way he walks forward with his arms out during the one ff attack

[sweetmapple]

Endure

[teakookssi]

Before I Leave You [Eren/Levi x Reader FF]

[ full story can be found here or here ] [Overview & prologue] ➺ pairing: levi ackerman/eren jeager x fem!reader  ➺content: mafia au, crime, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, angst, lol so much angst ➺warnings: violence, blood, strong language, guns/weapons, and illegal activities are all mentioned but hey, that’s aot for you, so if you can handle that, you can handle this (: 

chapter 13: one way ticket to hell pt 2

When you finally arrive at the Karanes station half an hour later, you exit the train with Eren following closely behind. Bear back in your bag.

The Northlake Garden Park is a short ten minute walk from the train station and though you hardly come across anyone during that time, the streets are poorly lit and unfamiliar that it has Eren looking around nervously and flinching at any sudden movement over his shoulder.

By the time you reach the park’s entrance, Eren’s completely on edge.

He shakes his head beside you. “I don’t like this, Anya.”

But you ignore him and move along with haste, cutting through the open grass towards the area you know Cas frequents.

There’s still people out for evening strolls, and for the most part they never get close enough to interact. It’s only when Eren has to steer you out of a joggers path after Eren notices him approaching you far too closely than he’s comfortable with that his anxiety hits its peak.

“What are we doing here?” he hisses angrily through gritted teeth after the jogger runs past.

“I’m meeting a friend,” you answer simply.

“What kind of friend?”

“A very important one,” is all you offer him before ultimately coming to a complete stop.

Cas and his nanny stand in the middle of the kid’s favorite bridge looking out over the lake. The two undercover cops assigned to him linger at the bottom of the bridge a respectful distance away.

Eren doesn’t miss the faint curve of a smile on your face as he follows your line of sight to see what’s got your attention, but Cas is too far away for Eren to make sense of things. For all he knows, he thinks you’re meeting some crime lord, not a lonely eight-year-old child.

You slide your gaze to Eren beside you and extend a hand out in front of him. “Give me the bag.”

Eren studies your open hand for a moment before he does as you say with great wariness. “What are you going to do?”

You nod to the paved pathway behind him. “I suggest you take a walk now.”

You start for the bridge, not waiting to find out if he does as you say, but before you can take a step Eren hastily grabs you by the wrist, holding you back.

“No!” he argues back. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. You can’t just—“

Before he can finish his sentence, you break out of his hold and swiftly twist his arm behind his back. He cries out in a mix of pain and surprise, but your hold does not let up as you hastily shove him forward to pin him behind the closest tree to avoid the attention of Cas’ guards.

“You forget yourself, mate,“ you hiss dangerously into his ear, beyond annoyed. You’ve lost enough time as it is. You’re not about to let this night go to waste because of him.

Eren tries to resist you, using his free hand to push against the bark of the giant oak tree, but you twist his arm further and press his face and chest deeper against the tree to keep him in place.

“There’s a reason people fear me,” you continue with a growl. A reason they call you a messenger of Death. “Don’t make me have to remind you.”

You release him soon after — though none too gently — and leave him behind you to recover behind the oak tree without sparing him a second glance, unwilling to see the kind of expression written on his face after attacking him in such a way.

Once close enough to the bridge, you wave to the blond hair boy before you with Bear prominently in your arms to get his attention. When Cas spots you, his face lights up with joy and quickly rushes over to greet you; his trust in you undeniable.

—

After Cas leaves the park a little while later, Bear is ready for a well deserved nap after entertaining the boy for you without pause. Nestled in your arms, you transfer him over to your canvas bag for him to sleep as you make your way back to where you left Eren last. He waits for you by the oak tree with a sullen look on his face, a hand on the shoulder belonging to the arm you twisted. But you know that’s not the main reason for the grim expression on his face.

From this distance, Eren stood close enough to watch you interact with the boy, so it wasn’t hard for him to put two and two together. He’s seen Erwin Smith before. And his son is the spitting image of him. Yet you don’t say a word to him as you walk past him out of the park in the direction leading back to the train station.

For a while Eren trails wordlessly behind you, but his silence is deafening, and you know he’s too upset to hold himself back for long. So you move with haste and maintain your distance, hoping to be out of town before he causes a scene in the middle of the street.

Reaching the train station some few minutes later, you send Eren away to get a pair of tickets from the ticket booth for the both of you.

But Eren doesn’t move.

When you turn to him, you find him glaring at you with a clenched jaw, clearly hating how casual you’re being despite the wicked plan he now knows you’re planning to execute. And for a split second you think this is the moment where he’s going to turn on you.

But then he lowers his gaze and turns away to do as you’ve instructed. Albeit, tense, and with hands curled into fists at his side.

When he returns, he looks far more wretched than when he left as he stares at the train tickets in his hands. The moment he takes too long to hand over yours, you anticipate his outburst.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t have picked the worst time to do so.

Over Eren’s shoulder, stepping onto the platform a few feet away is a forest-green uniformed copper making his rounds. Knowing they never go on duty alone, you subtly glance behind you to your left where another copper has made an appearance onto the platform.

“Why are you doing this?” you hear Eren demand in front of you, his voice trembling with outrage and completely oblivious to your newfound company. “What are you trying to accomplish?”

Though Eren speaks in an angry tone, his voice does not rise. Still, the copper behind Eren turns to you both in attention.

Shit.

“That’s really none of your concern,” you answer Eren tightly under your breath while trying to calculate all the ways this can play out for you if the train doesn’t get here soon.

As you subtly remove your bag from across your chest, you notice from the corner of your eye the copper behind Eren closing in with heedful steps, watching you with wary suspicion.

You try not to make any sudden moves. The cop is too far away for him to recognize your features. But when you glance back over to your left in search of the second cop, you find you’ve lost track of him. He’s nowhere in sight and you fear he’s run off to call for backup even though he’s most likely scouting the area on the opposite side of the train station.

Despite your lack of attention, Eren continues his ranting. “He’s just a child!” he argues angrily. “He’s innocent! You can’t possibly be capable of something so —”

Just then, a strong gust of wind cuts through the night, blowing through the platform and knocking your hat off your head without warning, revealing your face under the bright lights of the train station.

The main cop recognizes you the moment you lock eyes with him. But the second he reaches for his gun, you hastily shove Eren to the ground and draw out your own, simultaneously dropping your bag with Bear in it onto Eren’s lap.

You shoot before the cop does, but the bastard dodges your bullet in the nick of time.

Refusing to give him time to recover, you continue shooting in the direction he sought cover behind a pillar to keep him in place.

“Stay down!” you shout at Eren over your shoulder before making a run for the other side of the platform to take cover behind a similar pillar.

Once out of the copper’s visible shooting range, you release another round of bullets in his direction. You manage to hit him square in the shoulder, but the cop refuses to go down and continues shooting at you, trying to hold out until backup arrives.

Except, the train to the Founding Sector arrives first, and you curse everything to hell.

The roaring of the train’s engine clashes with the sound of gunshots ricocheting across the station as it comes to a stop at its designated platform. But your attention immediately goes to the front of the train where the conductor resides. The second he looks out and sees what’s going on out here he’s going to cut the time the train waits on the platform and take off, not wanting to get caught in the middle of a gunfight.

Your hold on your gun tightens as you watch from across the platform as the doors open for passengers to board or exit, and you glower back at the cop keeping it out of reach from you.

You need to finish off the bastard now or you’ll never make it back on the train alive.

But as you reach for a magazine from the holster belt at your waist to reload your glock pistol, your hand comes up empty. That’s when you realize: in your haste to keep Eren out of the copper’s line of fire, you left your bag with him and forgot to take the extra set of magazines you’d packed in your bag with you.

Worst yet, the conductor has now realized what’s happening and has hastily begun to move the train out of the station. Eren—who obediently remains crouched on the ground as you instructed, taking cover behind a lamp post across the platform—notices too and he looks to you helplessly, unsure of what you want him to do.

He knows as well as you do this is the last train scheduled for the night. You can not miss this train. Problem is, you’ve already gone through your spare gun; all you have left are the handful of bullets you carry in your revolver.

You glance over at the green uniformed copper taking shelter from behind the pillar across the platform.

It’ll have to do.

Swapping your empty pistol for your revolver, you make sure there’s no other threats around you before rushing into the open clearing, your eyes zeroed in on the cop’s location.

Once he sees you making your way across the platform back to Eren, he wastes no time in attacking. But in doing so, he’s left himself just as vulnerable.

The moment you get a clear shot of him, you trust your natural instincts to keep you out of range from the series of bullets he sends your way, and let Death guide your hand as you release your own set of bullets.

True to your name as Messenger of Death, your bullets aim true—two to the chest and one to the copper’s head. Yet despite neutralizing the threat, you know better than to let your guard down.

A second cop—the one that had disappeared earlier—reappears before you across the station.

With Eren as his target.

“EREN!” you shout in warning just as the cop races towards him and opens fire.

Eren flinches at the gunshot and folds in on himself even further to protect himself, unaware of the threat that had been approaching behind him until the metal bullets started bouncing against the lamppost.

Ignoring the burning sensation in your legs, you quicken your speed to cut across the platform in time to reach Eren. You try shooting at the cop amidst your running, but your revolver draws empty. You’ve run out of bullets.

All the same, you remain undeterred.

Before the copper can turn his gun in your direction, you unsheathe a few blades from under your sleeves and throw them across the station with skilled accuracy. Two of them hit him across the chest while the third pierces his neck.

The cop instantly drops his gun and falls to his knees just a few feet before reaching Eren.

Eyes wide in panic, the cop reaches for the blade protruding from his neck with shaking hands, knowing that if he pulls it out he’ll only bleed to death faster.

Eren stares at him in horror, oblivious to the train in front of him that has begun to pick up speed out of the station.

“Eren, go!” you command sharply to snap his attention away from the dying cop before him. “Get on the train! Now!” But Eren is still stricken with shock and fear. He’s far too disturbed to move or acknowledge anything else happening around him.

So you force him to react to something else.

The cop your blades have pierced remains alive. Coughing up blood and on the floor, but still alive. You cannot leave him like this at the off chance he survives. These cops were on duty making their rounds, and though they may not have been the guards hired to protect Erwin Smith’s son, they recognized you the second they saw your face. If they were to spread word to Erwin that you’d been spotted this close to his son, you’d lose your leverage over him.

Reaching the cop first, you yank him by the back of the hair towards you, eliciting from him a panicked cry as you motion to retrieve the dagger from his neck. His attempts to stop you are weak and futile—the blood stains he leaves on your hands and coat the only signs of his struggle. Eren also realizes what you’re about to do and moves to stop you.

“No! Don’t!” he cries out desperately, a hand extended out towards you to stop. But your eyes are cold and ruthless as you twist the blade sideways on the cop’s neck, and in one clean sweep slit the man’s throat.

Eren flinches as blood splatters on the floor in front of him. Yet your expression remains unfazed as you pull out the two other daggers from his chest and let the cop’s body fall to the ground in front of you with a heavy thump. You then take a spare handkerchief from your coat and wipe them clean before securing them back in their holsters.

Eren stares at the unmoving figure before him in aghast before his expression slowly changes. When he looks up at you again, his eyes are reproachful and unforgiving. As if you’ve committed the worst crime imaginable. As if you haven’t done this hundreds of times before.

You step over the cop lying dead on the floor to cut the space between you and Eren, a hard scowl lining your features. You just saved his goddamn life! How can he have any sympathy for the cop when he had been seconds away from killing him?

“You have yet to see me at my worst, Eren Yeager,” you remind him darkly. You then lean in to roughly take back your bag from him. “If you can’t handle me now, don’t bother coming back.”

Throwing the bag over your shoulder, you turn your back on him and make a run for the train before it can gain anymore speed and disappear completely off the platform.

You make it onboard with ease and start digging for some coins to bribe the conductor with since Eren never actually got to hand you your train ticket. You consider this an excuse to linger by the opening of the door, and not a sign of weakness.

But there’s no one around here to fool except yourself.

The true reason you keep glancing over your shoulder is not because you’re on the lookout for the conductor. You’re on the lookout for Eren, waiting for him to appear in front of the door you just jumped in from.

He doesn’t, of course.

Eren is not meant to follow you into the darkness. Your violent and vindictive nature is not something anyone can control.

Nor do you want it to be.

Refraining from looking back any further, you keep your attention forward.

Bear proves to be a good distraction as he pops out of your bag the second you take a seat in one of the many vacant chairs within the passenger car. He starts meowing at you incessantly, as if reprimanding you for all the noise and rough handling he’s had to endure while traveling inside your bag.

You smile down at him in amusement and nod to his every meow like you understand what he’s saying.

“I know,” you coo at him in agreement, sounding like a mother soothing her weary child. “You’ve had quite the adventure.”

To compensate him for his troubles, you reward him with a generous amount of treats while you pet him in all his favorite spots. In return he purrs loudly against your touch, letting you know you’re forgiven.

A figure approaches from the passenger car connected next to yours a few minutes later, and at first you think its the conductor making his rounds, checking for tickets. But then you do a double take and you’re surprised to find its not the conductor, or any other wayward passenger in search of a seat.

A mixture of emotions run through you at the sight of him before you, but you keep your features composed and try not to overthink what his presence here means.

Sliding the cabin door open to your passenger car, Eren steps inside your compartment.

You regard him warily with narrowed eyes from across the cabin as he makes his way inside, unsure of what he’ll do next since he always seems to end up doing that which you least expect him to do. But his eyes are downcast and he wears a dejected expression on his face that you’re undoubtedly responsible for putting there.

Without directing a word to you, he sits down a few seats opposite you.

The longer he goes without speaking to you, the more anxious you become. Still, you refuse to be the one to break the silence first so you ignore him for the duration of the ride as he does with you.

Reverting your focus back to Bear, you play with him until the feline grows tired and falls asleep in your lap. With the way he’s curled in on himself, completely at ease by your warmth and presence, you almost don’t want to disturb him.

But alas, your weapons need reloading.

Careful not to startle him awake, you scoop Bear up and gently settle him on the seat next to you before you draw out your weapons. Your hands move with skill and precision as you reload your firearms with the magazines in your bag, enjoying the satisfying click they make at the end when they’re fully armed and ready. Leaving your revolver for last, you slide its corresponding bullets inside the silver cylinder until all six chambers are loaded.

You sense Eren watching you from where he sits across from you as you do this, seemingly on edge by the noises your guns are making.

Which only confuses you all the more. If he’s so bothered by all this, why did he even come back?

After what seems like forever, Eren finally breaks the silence.

“Who is Erwin to you?” he demands as calmly as he can muster, but given the scowl still branding his features, he is still very much upset. And you have to refrain from flinching by how uneven his voice sounds.

You snap the cartridge to your revolver shut and return it to its holster.

“A dead man walking,” you answer flatly.

Eren’s hands curl into fists at his lap but he forces himself to ask, “Why do you and Levi hate him so much? What did he do to you?”

Images of your home being invaded, your mother dead at your feet, you standing over her grave as they bury her underground, flash before you.

“He ruined me.”

You spin your two remaining firearms on both of your index fingers before crossing your arms across your chest to place them back in the holsters under your arms.

You lock eyes with Eren. “I plan on returning the favor.”

He throws you a scathing look. “By spilling innocent blood?”

“Blood is all I want,” you reply back mildly. “I will fill rivers with it if it means getting the justice I am owed.”

Eren’s frown deepens, appalled. “Justice?” His body turns towards you, eyes ablaze. “Justice is working with the police. With the law. To try and change the system. To end things peacefully. What you want is revenge. That is not the same thing.”

“It is in my world.” You settle back against your chair with your arms crossed over your chest, but though you appear to be reclining, you are wound tight. Your eyes are sharp as daggers as you then add haughtily, “But I don’t expect you to understand that.”

Eren stares at you with a clenched jaw, annoyed and frustrated by your stubbornness. But the determined look in his eyes tells you he refuses to give up on you. So he changes tactics. With a heavy sigh, his shoulders sag and his features soften. His tone, pleading.

“I know you’re angry,” he says in a low voice. “I know you’ve been hurt. But—”

“Then you know why the commander must die,” you cut him off irritably. Eren may have a sense of what Erwin had done to you and your family but he did not know the details. If he did, he wouldn’t be saying any of this.

Eren shakes his head. “Not like this.” He rises from his seat and takes ginger steps across the moving train to move closer to you. “Please. You can choose to forgive him. To show him mercy.”

“Mercy?” you repeat with a snarl, leaning forward in your seat. “You think Erwin Smith deserves my mercy?”

“No,” he clarifies hastily, stopping in his tracks. “But you deserve peace. And forgiving him is the only way you can start to heal.”

“It is not in my nature to forgive. Perhaps it had been, once,” you admit with a hint of lament that you are unable to mask from him. “But when my mother died, she took along with her whatever goodness there had ever been in me. I have nothing left.”

Eren shakes his head and takes a step towards you. “You don’t believe that. You can’t—You can’t seriously think this is what your mother would have wanted for you? To live your life solely for vengeance?”

Your siren eyes flash up to him in warning, but Eren presses on. “You think she would be proud of the person you’ve become? I may not have known your mother, but I know for a fact if she saw you now, she would be devastated to see her daughter capable of so much evil.”

“Evil?” You laugh wryly. “Despite what you’re always preaching, mate, I am not the villain in this story.”

Eren narrows his eyes, the desperation visible in his gaze and tone. “If you’re not the villain, then stop acting like one.”

Your eyes crystalize into something dark and dangerous as you regard him with a tilt of the head. “You accuse me of committing atrocities.” You stand and take a threatening step towards him, and Eren—noticing this dark shift in you—wisely steps back. “But nothing I have done can ever measure up to what that bastard did.”

You draw Eren into a corner until the back of his knees hit the seats of the train behind him. With nowhere to move, he unwillingly falls into the seat as you lean forward and raise an arm to grip the back of his seat, not once breaking eye contact with him as you continue.

“Under his leadership, a specialized police force was sent to my family’s home with a search warrant thinking they would find incriminating evidence against both my father and Levi’s father. In their attempt to taking them down, they raided my home. Killing anyone within sight. Innocent lives were caught in the crossfire. Including my mother’s.”

Eren visibly flinches at the hatred in your tone and he starts to turn away, wanting to look away from the intense fierceness in your eyes. But you keep his face in place with a thumb and index finger against his jaw, forcing him to keep his eyes on you. He’s close enough for you to see the shade of green in his eyes glisten against the light of the train like summer leaves in sunlight— bright, bold, and beautiful. But you refuse to let the sight of them warm your heart.

“You still think my wrath misplaced?” you demand icily. “You think it fair for a child of only six to have to watch her mother bleed out to death in front of her?”

Eren works his jaw, hating the direction this conversation was taking, but he says nothing, knowing your question is rhetorical.

“When my father found me covered in my mother’s blood afterwards, shaking with fear… He saw my pain, my grief. And he promised to make things right again. He said he would make everyone responsible to suffer the same way they made us suffer. And he did.”

Eren shakes his head and closes his eyes in a grimace.

“Stop,” he whispers, so softly that if you weren’t as close as you were you wouldn’t have heard him. He tries to move away. “I don’t want to hear this.”

You press a hand over his shoulder, shoving him back down. “What’s wrong?” you ask mockingly. “Is the truth too hard for you to swallow?”

He knocks your arm away and shoves you aside, walking away from you to create some space from you across the passenger car. “You’ve proved your point. You can stop now.”

“Stop? But you haven’t heard the best part! Don’t you want to hear how he did it? How my father hunted down every single one of Erwin’s men that had been sent in to raid our home that day? Don’t you want to hear of all the ways he tortured each and every one of them in the comfort of their own homes and slaughtered their families like they did mine?”

Eren moves for the door with a shake of the head, having heard enough.

“He saved my mother’s killer for last,” you drawl behind him in a sinister tone.

Eren pauses at the door, a hand frozen over the handle as you continue.

“By then, the cop knew what my father was doing, and that it was only a matter of time before he got to him. But when he least expected it, my father made his move and invaded his home, just like he did with us. And oh, did my father take his time with him.”

Eren’s grip on the door handle tightens until his knuckles turn white as a ghost.

“Hours my father spent with him, keeping him just barely alive for him to give my father the information he wanted on Erwin. Then, while his seven-year-old son watched, my father murdered his wife in front of him the same way it was done to me. In the end, knowing the cop would not survive for much longer, my father let the cop live out the last moments of his life wallowing in guilt for all the pain and misfortune he brought onto his family for his actions. When my father left, he said he saw his son crawl to his dying father’s side, but who knows if the kid survived on his own after all that.”

Eren bristles at the mention of the son and turns to you reproachfully.

“Do you even know their names?” he demands, seething. “Do you know the names of any of the people he killed?” His eyes narrow at you accusingly. “Of the people you’ve killed?”

You scowl back and growl through your teeth, “They do not deserve to be remembered.”

Eren looks appalled and turns away to sit at the nearest seat from him, looking defeated and out of strength. Even the look in his eyes has grown dull as he stares at an invisible spot in front of him with a distant, unfocused gaze. You think he’s probably regretting following you back now after all you’ve said to him.

Either way, you leave him to his own thoughts and try to keep him out of yours as you make your way back to Bear who is still curled up asleep where you left him last.

As the train arrives at the Founding Sector’s train station moments later, you glimpse over at Eren who is leaning forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees and his head in between his hands.

It shouldn’t bother you that he looks so miserable, but it does. And you hate it. But you refrain from going to him.

This is what you wanted, you remind yourself. This was the whole point of letting him come along, to show him who you really are. For him to see that you’re really not worth saving and that he’s better off giving up on you.

While you collect your cat inside your bag and move for the door, Eren struggles to his feet. As you get closer you notice how pale he is.

“Oi,” you say coolly, intercepting him at the door. “You don’t look so good.”

But he ignores you and brushes past you, forcing you to watch him go as he stumbles off the train into the deserted platform.

You instinctively reach out to grab him by the arm before he can hit the floor as his legs give out on him, but he slaps your hand away.

“Don’t!” he shouts vehemently, hastily stepping back from you.

Your eyebrows shoot up, startled for a second by the strange look in his eyes, but then he blinks and it vanishes. Before you can question it further, he points an accusatory finger at you.

“You let me come here with you,” he growls at you with reproach. “To witness—” He presses his lips together, his expression pained, as he looks in the direction of where the train just came from. “To push me away.”

Your jaw tightens, but your features remain aloof. Neither acknowledging nor denying anything.

Not that Eren needs you to.

He’s clearly seen right through you, and that’s what has him most upset.

He shakes his head at you when you say nothing, and you hate the disappointment glistening in his eyes when he does.

“You want to go down this path?” he questions with disdain. “Fine. But if you wish to destroy yourself in the process, know that I made an oath to your father. And I plan on honoring it—with my life if I have to.”

He turns and staggers off in the direction of the canals that lead back home without another word.

Your nails dig deep into the palm of your hands, trying to swallow down your rage. But there is no hiding the burning frustration from your eyes. The way you watch after Eren is similar to the way a monster is forced to watch its victim walk away after escaping from its clutches.

This is not the way you imagined this night to go. But quite honestly, when has anything gone according to plan when Eren is involved?

And yet, all throughout the walk back home as you follow closely behind in Eren’s footsteps, you can’t stop thinking about the strange look Eren threw at you when you tried to steady him off the train. It had only been there for a second, but it had been enough for you to recognize the same pure, undiluted loathing that you saw on the faces of your enemies every time they looked your way.

It surprised you then because you would have considered such an intense, hateful gaze out of place in the eyes of someone like him. But when you locked eyes with him, in that brief moment you saw that dark look manifest in those kind, hopeful and passionate eyes you were so used to looking back at you, it did not seem misplaced at all. Rather, these raw emotions of his reflected so deeply within him, it made you believe they had always been there. Hidden behind a curtain that was never meant to be unveiled.

But it has. And now he’s got alarms going off inside your head, telling you to be wary of him even more than before. Because even if you can’t fully read Eren’s true intentions, of one thing you’re absolutely certain of: Eren is hiding something.

A dark secret he’s buried so deep within that even the brightness in his emerald eyes dimmed when you’d caught a glimpse of it trying to break out from its confinement…

Ahead of you, Eren disappears from view as he turns the corner leading down the backstreets of Trost Lane. You proceed after him with an air of casual indifference despite your senses warning you to not lose track of him, to keep him close. Secrets are dangerous—they become a liability, and sometimes, if left unsupervised, can ultimately destroy you.

But you also know that in the underworld knowledge is power. And what Eren doesn’t realize is that in this line of work, secrets are never kept secret for long. One way or another, all hidden truths come to surface.

And his will be no different.

[bumblybeebounce]

Full-Contact Flirt

Pairing: Mando x f!Reader Rating: R Warnings: Sparring, finger-fucking, dirty talk, swearing.

Author’s note: Okay so I’m not necessarily entirely pleased with this but fuck it have it anyways, I hope you guys enjoy! :’D (Also it’s been so long I’ve forgotten if I had a taglist ffs)

"Look, I understand the need for training, but in armour?" You looked at Mando, frowning as you nodded at the pile next to him. Instead of answering he simply picked up a piece that looked like a breastplate.

"Concidering the situation, you need to learn how to move and fight in armour." He was right, of course. The Child was under threat, and as good as Mando was, he couldn't be everywhere. Which meant that in the event of a fight, you'd have to be able to put up a decent resistance, not necessarily to win, but to buy enough time for Mando to intervene. It wasn't a slight to your own skills, but fact of the matter was that Mando had quite a bit more experience on you in a fight.

Things had been... A little strange since what you mentally labelled as the Incident. It wasn't uncomfortably so, but it felt like something was getting pulled tighter and tighter between you and Mando, and you weren't entirely sure what would happen when it snapped. 

He had been watching you more. Especially when you were handling the Child. No matter what you were doing, if he wasn't focused on piloting or shooting or whatever else, it was like he deliberately got himself into a position where you were in his field of vision. Maybe. It was hard to tell sometimes with the visor, and maybe it was hormones or something, but at this point you were so finely tuned to his gaze that it felt like an actual physical touch. 

Sometimes it was comforting. More often, it was an awful, awful distraction of the highest order and made it feel like he was actually, physically running his fingers up and down your spine and the amount of shivering you were doing because of it was causing him to stroll by and off-handedly cover you with a blanket every now and then. Which was incredibly sweet and made your heart squeeze in a very certain way but it was also a little embarrassing because in reality, the shivering was because his very presence is making your bits squeeze in a very different way.

And now this. Now you were up for a spar with him. As in, close combat spar. As in, possibly (and most likely) getting pinned down by him one way or another. And it was really making it difficult to concentrate on literally anything but the thought of him pressed against- 

"I know you can handle yourself, but I need to know for how long." He interrupted your musings as he proffed the breastplate towards you. You eyed it before reaching towards it, uncrossing one arm as you did. "Is... Is this even allowed? Wouldn't this qualify as Mandalorian training?" You squinted at the breastplate. "Wait, isn't this your-" "Yeah, it's light armour." He interrupted you. You were pretty sure this was some of his old stuff, before the beskar upgrade, and even then you were pretty sure what he used to wear qualified as at least medium weight armour for any non-Mandalorian. While you were focusing on the breastplate (How was this light armour when it weighed so much?!) you missed the slight tremor of Mando's hand as he busied himself with the rest of the- his old armour. You were already wearing a long-sleeved under-armour shirt in preparation for this, and he was very pleased that it was one of his. He was even more pleased that the armour he was about to give you was his. 

It was a weird thing to get worked up about, but at the same time, you were wearing his clothes. And soon, his armour. And something about the very idea of it all, you wearing his clothes, his armour, on his ship, caring for his child, working with him... It all felt like a weirdly dirty fantasy, for him to have something like this. Something this domestic, amidst all the violence and bounties and running. Especially after what happened in the cockpit. 

It's like he'd become hyper-aware all of a sudden about everything you did. Every time you sang to the Child, the times you gave him his privacy like it was perfectly normal for him to eat separately, every time you simply made things run smoother without missing a beat, every Maker-damned shift in the co-pilot's chair... It was absolutely maddening. 

And he was pretty sure it was about to get worse. 

"Mando, I don't- I don't know how to put these on." You mumbled as you fiddled with the straps of the plate. You'd gotten it over your head, sure, but it didn't fit right and you didn't know how to tighten the straps to fit. Wordlessly, he left the other pieces where they were and stepped up to you, and right into your personal space. 

"Here." He checked the top straps, which he seemed to deem adequate, and then motioned with his hands towards your side. You lifted your arm to give him better access. His fingers deftly tugged at the straps, and then repeated the process on the other side. During all of it, you tried really hard to focus on what he was doing but he smelled really good today and all you really wanted was to tilt forward and crash into him for a better sniff. Like leather and blaster rounds, and something very mindscrambling. You kind of hoped it was some kind of soap he used that you weren't able to get your hands on. Because you might actually steal it. 

"Turn around." Mando pushed at your shoulder and you pivoted, keeping both of your arms up. His hand stayed at your shoulder as his other tugged and placed the armour better. You tried to remember how to breathe as his palm and fingers brushed your ribs and back, maybe a little too heavily to be entirely utilitarian, and it was giving a lot more fuel to the part of you that really hoped Mando was feeling the humming tension too. And even better, reciprocated. 

The mercenary was quickly reaching the point where his touching went from "only what's necessary" to "indulgent", and as he tugged at the straps on your sides as if to test the armor, he let them stay there, just... Holding you along your ribs. Warm, and firm, and strong... 

"How's it feel?" Like you really should push your hands under the plate and squeeze my-

"It- Uh, it good- Feels good. Uh, fits." You stumbled along and hoped he didn't twirl you around just yet so you could avoid letting him see the colour on your cheeks. Maker, gods, spirits and all that was holy, this is only going to get worse and your hormones were already pinging around your body like it was an angry swarm of Nabooan bees. 

"Good." His touch lingered just a fraction longer, before he let go and retrieved the other parts. He handed you one of the gauntlets, which you slip on and he adjusted, then the other. He glanced at the pieces that were supposed to protect your thighs before he set them back. 

"So-" "We'll start light." He motioned towards the open ramp and started walking outside. He also tried very hard not to think about touching your thighs, running his hands over them or up towards your hips, and swallowed thickly, realising he very much failed at that. 

You followed Mando out after glancing at the kid's pram. The both of you had very deliberately let the Child tucker himself out for this so he would snooze in this closed pram for a few hours. Concidering how his tantrums rattled things off the walls, and how protective he was of Mando, you both felt it was probably better he didn't see you sparring. It was true that the little mite seemed to like you very much, but it felt like a good idea to not put yourself in a position where he might... Remotely try and choke you if he thought you were hurting Mando. He had told about a few incidents. 

Stepping out and into the grassy area you shielded your eyes briefly from the sunlight. You were a little ways from the outskirts of some small town on this forest planet, having landed there a few days ago for some rest and supplies. You would stock up where you could and leave in another two or so, unless you were suddenly attacked by other mercenaries or worse, Imperials. Which would've been a shame, because the air was clean here, the forests smelled absolutely divine and there was an air of calm around, especially at sunrise and sunset. 

Mando scanned the area before stepping up to a little circle he had made before. It was a little crude, lined with temporary non-toxic dye that would wash away in the next rainfall, or if someone happened to walk through it when the morning dew was still fresh. You stepped to the other side of the circle from where he was, sweet nostalgia of your own training days washing over you. Not like you had been a professional soldier or anything, but you had decided to train in some hand-to-hand combat as a precaution. The galaxy was big, and not everyone was benign. It seemed like a decent precaution. 

"Okay, I want to see your skills better, and you need to get used to the weight of the armour." He paused and turned his head towards you. "Come at me like you mean it." 

"... Uh-" You started, then paused. You... Honestly didn't want to? But at the same time, if anyone could take it it would be Mando. You, on the other hand, you were probably gonna come out of this worse than him, as much as you disliked admitting it to yourself. At least you'd warmed up and wrapped your hands before this. You probably should find some kind of fighter gloves soon as well. 

"I... Okay." You tested your movements with the armour on and gave a few jabs. The extra added weight wasn't super great, to be honest, and you'd probably tire out sooner than usual, but that's what this was for, right? To gain experience and stamina? 

"I get the feeling this is gonna hurt me more than it'll hurt you." Muttering to yourself, you pressed your hands together and bowed towards Mando, out of muscle memory, and he inclined his head at you in turn. And then, after drawing a breath, you moved. 

Crossing the distance was simple, but he easily dodged your first few punches, even deflecting one with his hand almost dismissively before he tried to grab your sleeve, possibly for a grapple or a throw. Instead, you rotated your arm over his and back under, forcing him to let go of you and gripped at his elbow as you brought your knee up towards his ribs on the opposing side. He deflected the knee with a grunt and stepped forward, causing you to jump back and let go of him again to avoid getting unbalanced and hitting the dirt. 

You dropped your shoulders, adjusted your feet and went forward with a punch aimed at his helmet. At the last moment, when it looked like he was about to block it, you shot out with your other fist and amazingly, it connected with his side. And it was probably the shock of landing a hit that got you distracted enough that when he roughly shoved at your chest, you did stumbled and fall flat on your ass onto the grass with a very undignified squeak, only barely avoiding hitting the back of your head with the ground by a timely tucking of your chin. 

"That was good, but not enough." Alright, him giving you praise should honestly have no right to travel that fast down your spine and hit you right in the bits- "Stand up." He motioned and didn't even have the decency to sound affected. With a sour huff and a pout, you got back up and dropped back into the stance. As distracted as you were, that good old competitive streak was starting to rear its little head. 

With another deep breath, you moved again. 

So you continued to spar, you occasionally landing a hit here and there but apparently not enough to really wind him in any way, and the fact that he was smoothly, almost nonchalantly defending against your attacks was really fucking frustrating. The rational part of you told you that you were up against someone who had been trained to take down people smarter than you, stronger than you and more skilled than you, of course it would be like this. But the feral part of you was gaining ground and screaming angrily that you were apparently doing less than nothing despite all the time and effort you had put into your training, and it was starting to show with how you were actually fighting a little more purposefully and with less hesitation. 

On the other side, Mando was breathing a bit harder, but not out of excercise. Oh, no, it was worse, the sight of you, in his clothes, in his armour, coming at him a little aggressively, intent on knocking him back, a determined look on your face, was very much doing things to him on a level he didn't even know existed. Truthfully, he should've seen it coming, after being sworn in to the Creed, the ability to flirt was vastly diminished, all the while the hormones were raging for many teenaged initiates. A lot of the time, sparring was the only time when you could have any physical contact with people without anyone yelling at your for unnecessary fraternization. For many Mandalorians in his covert, it had replaced the usual smooth talking and charming smiles as the best way to get to know the other person, to feel them out. In many definitions of that phrase, in some cases.

Din wasn't a stranger to it, he remembers how it felt back then, the tingling and the feeling that you were doing something forbidden under the watchful eyes of the instructors. But even when he had felt attracted to his sparring partner more than usual, it hadn't quite felt like this. 

It hadn't felt like his blood was running too warm, like the adrenaline was making him feel high, like he wanted to knock you down, get between your legs and slip your pants down and shove a hand between your legs, to see if you were as gushingly wet as he always hoped in his fantasies, like this turned you on too, before fumbling with his own belt and pants so he could tug out his cock and hear you mewl and see you arch your back, you welcoming and wet and warm as he sank inside and- 

He grunted when your kick hit him right in the stomach. The fantasy evaporated in an instant as he gripped your leg to keep it from slipping down and potentially hitting something more sensitive. 

You shifted precariously on one foot as you tried to tug your leg out from Mando's grip. It was suspicious that he wasn't actually doing anything aside from holding on to your shoe and your calf, which felt really nice actually to have him squeeze the flesh there, but since he wasn't letting go you bent the leg he was holding at the knee, hopped a bit closer to him and tried to push into his abdomen with a growl, but the infuriating bastard barely even swayed back and all you did was get closer to his form with your leg folded between you two, knee pointing to the side. 

As you glared into his visor, you realized that his hand was now trapped between the meat of your calf and your thigh, and as you tried to settle your heavy breathing, you realized how uncomfortably fucking wet you were now that your underwear had stretched tighter and the middle seam of your pants was pressing down over your clit. Fuck, if he freed his hand and slid it a little more inwards he'd be right there, yes-

"Getting there, but not enough." He nudged at you to make you take a step back, and in your mounting frustration you failed to notice the somewhat strained and breathless quality of his voice. With sharp movements you hopped back, released his hand and turned around to get some distance. Not enough? Not fucking enough?! Fucking- 

In a fit of anger you made a possibly reckless decision as you turned around. Mando was seemingly fiddling with one of his bracers, not looking at you. And now it was your chance. 

"You need to-" Before Mando could finish, you took a running start and with a grunt, tackled him with your shoulder colliding square into his midsection (and his beskar plate, ow) and taking him down to the ground. He made a winded grunt as he hit the ground and as you scrambled to sit on his stomach, he tried to buck you off and punch with his fists. Somehow you managed to get one of his arms trapped between your arm and ribs as you tried to use your foot to pin his other arm to the ground, wrestling with his remaining arm. While you couldn't help but feel like he was going easy on you, you also couldn't help the vicious grin on your face as you growled at him struggling below you. 

Mando could admit that he didn't expect you to tackle him or tackle him that hard, but Maker save him, he couldn't find it in himself to break out of it as fast as he honestly could. You above him, growling at him to stay still, trying to pin him as best you could? Fuck. If you shimmied any more down you'd be rubbing right against his cock- 

You squeaked as Mando threw you off, and before you could react he was above you, holding your wrists down and hovering over you on low his knees, breathing heavier. 

"That's better, but you have to-" He pressed harder on your arm as it lifted off the ground. "Come on, try harder." You settled down a bit, breathing hard and glaring up at him. "Oh, oh harder?" He nodded, personally distracted by the sound of your breathy voice but none of it showing in his body language. "Okay then-" With a heavy grunt, you brought your legs up (thankfully he was sitting high enough on your hip that you didn't have to contort yourself too much) and slid them under his arms, crossed them over his chest and with a sound as close to a roar you could make, slammed him back onto the ground and used the momentum to get back on top of him, managing to trap one of his legs up and bend it towards his chest while the other tried to get purchase on the ground, the thigh pressed against your ass. 

The Mandalorian below you seemed stunned, going by the lack of struggle, and you let out a breathless chuckle as you realized the position. Maybe it was the high of finally pinning him for longer than a few seconds or something, or the constant state of feral horny you've worked yourself up to in the last few moments, but you couldn't help the words that slipped out of your mouth as you leaned forward to grab his shoulder. 

"Well, this is an interesting position, huh Mand-oh." The taunting quickly dissolved into a breathless little moan as Mando moved just enough to jostle you down and right on top of something hard. And big. Well, kriff- 

Sitting on Mando's cock even for a moment effectively blew most of the thoughts in your head right out and whatever move Mando pulled next made your view tumble several different ways before you realized you were lying on the ground on your front, knees holding your hips up just enough to feel Mando drag his hard cock, purposefully and fully along your cunt as he restrained your arms behind your back. You let out a high pitched, long moan as you felt his movement pull your panties just enough to stimulate your clit and causing your hips to follow his movements in an effort to get more of the feeling. 

One of Mando's hands shifted, fully grabbing at your thigh near the junction of the pelvis and pulled you tighter against him as he rutted into you again, slowly, and groaned at the whimper it produced. 

"This what you wanted? Huh?" He leaned forwards, closer to your head and growled his question, officially too fucking gone to care about much anything beyond the compliant body under him. Sweet Maker and stars above, please let her want this as badly as he did, want him to push into her and claim her, make her cum hard and wet on his cock and beg him for more- 

"This what you wanted, sweet girl?" His hand moved from your thigh and between your legs, harshly rubbing at the junction as you keened under him. 

“Yes, kriff Mando pleasemore-" You didn't care. You didn't fucking care how you ended up here, you just wanted him to do something because you were ready to combust and he wasn't letting your arms down. You vaguely heard him swear and after some rustling, he returned to you. 

"You want me to touch you? Want me to see how f-fucking wet-" You wailed a yes as he fumbled with the front of your pants for a moment before slipping his hand- fuck he wasn't wearing a glove that was skin-

The moan he let out when his fingers dipped into your underwear was absolutely filthy, the close proximity of his head to your ears letting you hear both a modulated voice and his real voice underneath that as he let go of your hands to support himself on the ground, is cock digging into the back of your thigh and ass cheek. 

"S-sparring got you this wet for me, sweet girl? Huh?" There was nothing light about his touch at all, and thanks to the tight quarters, every single time his fingers moved in and out of you they dragged along your clit, making your hips jolt in his grip as you tried to hold on to something, anything to ground yourself. One hand pulled up handfuls of grass while the other grabbed hold of his leg and you moaned, already most of the way to cumming. Fucking fuck this was so much better, so much hotter than you had ever imagined and he was rough, like he couldn't get you off fast enough for his liking. 

"Mando please, need you, need you to-" "I know what you need-" 

Mando pulled at the armour along your back, dragged you up to your knees against him and crossed his arm over your shoulders, holding you against him as he worked your core and rutted his cock against you. 

"Need to fuck you like this, in m-my armour, like the fucking warrior you are-" He grunted as you pulled at pantleg and moved with him, whimpering at his stream of filth as he sped up his hand movement. 

"Make you cum, you've been so good for me, you f-fought so well, good girl, like that-" His arm shifted to hold your middle and keep you tight against him as you startled to unravel. Your orgasm was on you so fast, the usual electric tingle suddenly crashing into an explosion so hot and powerful that it curled your toes, arched your back and made you moan deeply, violently tightening your fingers about the fabric of his pants and pounding your other fist against the hip and meat of his thigh when the orgasm just kept fucking going and going and your hips shook and twitched in his grip as he groaned something in your ear that you just could not spare the braincells to decipher. 

Mando didn't even slow his ministrations until you sagged against him, boneless and brainless as you whimpered at every pass his fingers made along your clit, vaguely wondering if you'd actually soaked through your pants at this point as you clumsily pawed at the hand down the front of your pants. 

You were both breathing hard as he finally stopped moving his hand, his fingers curling into and around your cunt warmly, occasionally squeezing as his own hips shifted against you, his cock still painfully hard and digging into your ass.

"Mando, fuck-" "C-can I-" He started extracting his hand, almost reluctantly, as he dragged your slick along your skin while his other hand took hold of your hip and he bucked against you. You didn't know how big he might be but he felt big and you wanted it inside you real fucking soon.  "Can I- Do you want me to-" All of a sudden he seemed almost shy and at a loss of words for someone who just made you cum so hard the sole of your foot was actually hurting from the tensing the muscles so hard. 

"Yes, yes Mando, please." You gasped out, fully understanding what he was asking. He growled and reached for his own pants and- 

 A high shriek floated from inside the Crest and you almost sobbed in anguish. Of all the times for the Child to wake the fuck up, he woke up now?! 

Mando dropped his head, the front of his helmet gently hitting the back of your head as he tried to swallow both the saliva in his mouth and the groan that threatened to break through. He listened to the sound coming from the Crest and it sounded like the kid was worried no one was around. Wouldn't even take too long until the little creature would be toddling down the ramp to where they were. 

"He's awake." You mumbled in a hoarse voice and tried to fix your pants. Which was a bit of a task considering you were only vaguely aware of which direction was up in the aftermath of what just happened. "Yeah." Mando grunted and his thumb brushed along your ribs, almost reluctant to stop touching now that he knew he was... Allowed. 

You finally managed to fix your pants as you watched the kid wobble at the entrance, making his way down the ramp slowly, looking very angry at the world for some reason. 

"We..." You started, hesitantly. "We could... Continue later?" Mando swallowed again and his dick jumped at the thought. "... Yeah." He offered and you nodded, muttering an "Okay." as you unsteadily climbed to your feet and after a few shaky steps, went to meet the wee angry one to calm him down. While picking him up and fussing over him, you failed to see Mando get up, turn his back to you and slide his fingers into his mouth, getting a good taste of you with a soft whimper before aggressively tugging his glove back on and trying to adjust his... Problem.

Fuck. You would continue this later.

Tags:

@equalstrashflavoredtrash @just-add-butter @beskars @duamuteffe 

[todokanai-suishou]

April 7th

Pairing Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Fluff

WC: 2,5k

Quality: Not yet golden Raspberry, but definitely rotten Tomato worthy

A/N: "April 7th, but it's longer now" finally managed to post the full thing TT_TT. It's still my first ff and I still apologize for the outcome of this, since I usually do music reviews and (bad) poetry:

Inspiration for it & pt2 were Sticky & April 7th by a Band called The Maine

__________________________________________________________

When you first saw him, he was dancing like nobody was watching

when in fact, everybody was.

You were no exception to the other people staring at him while they were shouting names, singing along to the lyrics sung by the 7 people dancing on stage, so stable and well.

And this man? This man didn’t seem to miss a beat. He moved so effortlessly through every song, having the time of his life, dancing and singing and rapping his heart out

- until he first spotted you in the crowd, watched in awe as you got lost in stereo, eyes shut to enjoy the music

- until you opened your eyes to look back at him.

And suddenly the man who was just dancing along to a fun song that luckily had no choreography, froze just like someone who’d be busted dancing with a mob.

He didn’t know what had hit him when your eyes made contact with his, but he just stood there, unable to move until the eldest came and hit him on the head jokingly, followed by the youngest jumping on both of them.

The Dancer snapped out of it at this point and you didn’t have a single ounce of understanding for what just happened. Usually it was Jungkook lagging, but not during performances and out of all the people you’d suspect to stop moving, Hobi would be the last one to.

Until he was. And he looked baffled when he came back down to earth, whispering to both of his friends as they were finishing the song before leaving to change clothes. He couldn’t help from looking back and subtly pointing at your part of the crowd a few times though

and as he kept on, you started to sense something. From the way he looked back. From the way he pointed in this direction..your brain meanwhile got the bizarre idea that it was you who got him that stunned. Maybe he saw someone else in you? Maybe a fansite? “Oh god please not a fansite.” you whispered, barely audible but turning the heads of the girls in front of you as you started shaking...or maybe an ex? You couldn’t pinpoint it but you also couldn’t stop thinking of the possibility that it was indeed you he reacted this way to.

and you were right about him freezing because of you, but dead wrong about him recognizing his ex, or a fansite, or anyone for that reason.

It was cliché but all the thought at that moment was that, even in this dimly lit room - you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever come across.

The way you danced like nobody was watching, because there probably really was no one watching you, all the while lip-syncing to boyz with fun, you were glowing and the way you suddenly stared at him, with adoration in your eyes, that had him overwhelmed.

“You really fell in love at first sight, huh?” Jin laughed in between changes as the younger one told him about what just happened. “I might” Hoseok fell into a stare at the realisation,. “This is crazy,” he whispered to himself. “You might never see them again though.” Namjoon exclaimed drily from across the room. “I’ll try...I guess?” - “What are you going to do, hunt that person down?” The leader raised an eyebrow and Hoseok sighed. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t until Yoongi - who currently fought with his leather pants - spoke up from the corner “just tell the staff to keep them here. Say Hi, see where it goes afterwards.” and while the leader and Hoseok agreed that this could come across as kind of creepy - the dancer gave it a try. He pointed to you, with the glowing green bracelet on your arm, gave them info of where you approximately were or could possibly come out. He did all he could do for them to keep you there and although you were confused, and quite frankly a little scared of what was happening, you stayed.

And god were you ready to fall on your knees and beg not to be sued with every second that passed, making up critical scenarios and what ifs in your head.

All of them were dead wrong.. You didn’t know how exactly he came to be there, but you remember him coming out in baggy pants, a loose shirt, hair that was still somewhat sweaty but at least brushed properly and he had the biggest smile as he came closer while you and a staff member were still jokingly debating whether ketchup was a smoothie or not. With a breathless “Hi.” he almost scared the living shit out of you.

“Hi” you replied, just as breathless and quite frankly confused. Both your Anxiety levels flew through the roof with each awkward second the two of you didn’t speak. It’s ironic how he wanted to tell you so much, but eventually when you were in front of him, sweat still somewhat glistening on your face and exhaustion written on it in tiny letters, he lost all his words.

It was you who, while still holding eye contact, spoke up. “So...you froze before...are you okay?” You nervously rubbed your arm, but he saw his chance. “Yeah, I’m sorry, it was kind of your fault” an awkward laugh followed from his side, making you nervously rub your arm and look down before he followed up “I got mesmerized by looking at you.” and boom, he had all your attention again. Eyes growing big at his comment. “Wait what?” - “I saw you vibe along and somehow, I don’t know. You just amazed me.” Everything after that was rambling as he tried to explain in a way that didn’t seem too forward or make you uncomfortable and apparently it worked when you let out a chuckle “You’re cute, you know that?” - “Cute enough to go on a date with me?” His sudden question left you as surprised as it did him. He didn’t think he’d do it like that, but judging from you freezing like a deer in the headlights, it was too straight forward and pointless. “Ah you kn-” - “Okay.” This time around he was the deer. And your answer? Just hit him like a car. “okay?” he replied in disbelief. “Yes, unless you don’t want to anymore?” you raised an eyebrow and he shook his head. “no, I’d still love to! How does tomorrow sound?” he asked so cheerfully the change of Aura almost threw you off. “Tomorrow sounds great, I think. Afternoon or evening?” - “Brunch?” - “Could work, might not. I usually sleep in on weekends. My body just naturally ignores every alarm clock I have until 13:00…but... I could get my roommate to wake me up with water I guess.” You said sheepishly.

“So...in case your roommate DOES wake you, how does 11:30 sound?” he smiled, screaming on the inside, hoping, praying, putting all of his trust in your roommate. “Sounds great.” You smiled back and at this moment he was a goner. Almost literally, since Jungkook called for the living, breathing sun to come back, because he wanted to go already. “Wait, give me your number so we can figure more details out.” a phone was pressed into your hands. You didn’t take long to type in your number and call yourself, his smile only growing as you handed it back to him. He had your number. He did it. You gave him his number and if tomorrow was going well, he was convinced that he could die happily.

When JK called for a second time he went away though “Well, I guess I really gotta go. I’ll see ya.” he waved at you and you just copied the action, smiling widely at him. “BY THE WAY” he called out after you “YES?”- “Y/N.... The Name fits you.” - “How?” - “A BEAUTIFUL NAME FOR A BEAUTIFUL HUMAN” and with that he was out of the room, and you and the staff member went out in the other direction, with her clearly laughing as you turned as red as a tomato. A warm feeling spread all throughout you, as you walked into the cold air, excited for what was to come, while the man who just asked a total stranger out just ended up happy dancing the entire night, leaving Jimin internally screaming for deciding to room with the manic squirrel and in serious conflict of whether he was just gonna head into Taehyung's room instead. In Hindsight, he probably should have.

Back then, on that first April 7 in the Arena, you met the man who lights up even the darkest days of your life. You learnt pretty fast that it wasn’t all fun and games, and relationships with Idols are hard. Big Hit bought out dispatch when it came to you, but still, not being able to see each other properly..sometimes was difficult, when all you wanted was to cuddle.

So he left sweaters at your place, and you saw each other whenever the other was near, you two made the, partially rough, two years worth the wait and god does he love you for holding on like that.

But exactly you, or the lack of your presence, made it hard for him to concentrate on rehearsal today. Knowing it’s the same day, the same arena, but someone else in your place. You usually took the time for important dates, 100 day anniversaries and birthdays were shared. Hell, the first anniversary you took leave to visit him on tour, but the second one, you informed him you couldn’t watch from the stage like you did so many times before. “Important family stuff.” you told him and the boys knew he wasn’t his usual self. Still whooped the professional part - except for the facial expressions and while the younger ones tried to coax the sun into shining again after the first Rehearsal, it wasn’t until Yoongi snuck up behind Hoseok with a phone in hand.

While the younger ones were still occupying Hoseok, Yoongi facetimed you and held the phone close to Hobis ear and before he could register anything, he heard “HOBI!” from the other line. Resulting in the dancer getting half a heart attack before turning around, resulting in Yoongi just handing him his phone and leaving. “Baby..” you pouted as you looked at his face. “Jagi, I miss you” a pout leaving him too. “You’ll see me soon, baby. I’m sorry I can’t watch like we planned.” - “ I know, I know” he sighed on the other line and you could feel your heart break. Dying to see your man already.

“I’ll see you soon, baby, don’t worry. We can celebrate after the concert tonight. Just give your best today, and if you won’t, you know I’m gonna find out from Jimin, right?” he chuckled at that comment, giving you a bright smile afterwards. “I know, I know. I’ll try.” - “You don’t need to, you were born to do what you’re doing baby. You’ll do great as always. Just picture me in the crowd, I’m always with you in spirit when I can’t be there - and you’ll get endless cuddles and everything else in the world when we’re home so cheer up.” Needless to say, you weren’t the best in cheering people up but weirdly enough it worked as he sighed out “will do.” giving you a smile afterwards. “Good, now go practice and then - go get 'em. I’ll be off too.” - Wait. Jagi?” You raised an eyebrow. “I love you.” He grinned and you could barely get out “I love you too” before he hung up and brought Yoongi back the phone. Somehow falling into a happy dance again.

“What’s with him?” Namjoon cut in, seeing Hoseok dance between doors “Talked to Y/N” Yoongi just replied and the Leader just nodded. This was normal by now. If he wasn’t everyone else's vitamin e - on days like these you were his and while he was still bummed, the sadness was pushed back by him deciding to just do as you told and picture you there. You’d be off work or family duties or whatever emergency came in between by the time he was done. You’d still see each other. It wasn’t what he had planned and you knew it wouldn’t be, but he’d be happy either way. He was happy with everything as long as the end result was you.

So the rehearsals continued. You headed out the house shortly after facetiming him and he put on clothes, got makeup done and set on a smile, all the while still texting you “I love you” being reciprocated with “I love you too, have fun out there.” It was the last text you sent him before you shut your phone off for now. It was also the last thing he read before he got onto that stage.

And while he loved the crowd, he thought the only thing he wanted to happen tonight was for the concert to end. For now.

Until, suddenly, two years after that last April 7th, he froze up during the choreography when he saw a big green heart during Boys With Fun. He couldn’t help but giggle as he read “Hey, sorry I just got kind of mesmerized by you.”

You, ass, stood there, waving that big heart, with that same green bracelet from years ago. Leaving him as amazed and defenseless as you did exactly two years ago and the grin he had on his face as he came to his senses again was second to none. Neither was your surprised reaction as he suddenly came close to your end, jumping over the barricade and pulling you, who stood just close enough to touch, in his direction. Placing his hands on your cheeks, greeting you with a kiss as the people beside you gasped, awed and the Maknae who saw the whole thing just wiped away a fake tear whispering “they grow up so fast.”

That was definitely not how you planned on your relationship being outed, but then again, he didn’t plan to see you here tonight and you, you had a way of melting his brain and making him do things. “Hey” he then said, almost breathless, still entranced and only looking at you. “Hey” you replied smiling. “So, you kinda mesmerized me and..would you wanna..you know, date?” he whispered in your ear, ignoring the music.. “I’m sorry, I kind of have a boyfriend.” you whispered back, laughing afterwards. It was only seconds until your face was in his hands again. “Then what do you say about moving in with him?” Deer in the headlights hobi? More like deer in the headlights Y/N - and this time the truck hit you. You didn’t know much to say, just frantically nodded and he took the time to kiss you again, softly, with all these people still around, and yet, for him you were the only one.

You’ve been the only one for the last two years. You’ll stay the only one for this little eternity he gets to stay with you..

[thebluemartini]

Far From the Shallow - Chapter 10 [Nessian Fic]

TITLE: Far From the Shallow SYNOPSIS: Post-ACOFAS. As part of a deal with Feyre, Nesta has agreed to live with Cassian in the Illyrian Mountains. However, shortly after her arrival, she receives the startling news that she’s pregnant from one of her one-night stands. While she tries to quickly get a grip on her life, Cassian’s determined to make her see that she’s not facing this alone.

FIC LENGTH: Multi-chapter (Total Chapter Estimate: 14)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

TAGGING: @bohemiandreams27  @queenofillea1 @trash-for-nessian @nestaarcheronwillkillme @my-fan-side @strangeenemy @maastrash @cageddovepoetry @bybooksanddreams @lilbat90 @ritamordio19 @mastercommandercaptain @feysand-dot-acotar @archeron-queen @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @empress-ofbloodshed @there-is-warmth-in-winter @mybbyfeyre @saltydreamcollector @justlikethecheshirecat @mis-lil-red @supebowlere @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @everything-that-i-love @sezkins79 @hashtolanashoba @lord-douglas-the-third @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @hikari274 @acotar-and-tog-for-life @ellenoftroy @ink-nibs *This chapter is also posted on AO3 and FF.

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CHAPTER 10: March - Part III

“Go,” Cassian groaned. “Save yourself and the baby and go!”

Kneeled before him, she stared at him with his broken wings and leg and trails of blood smeared all over his body. Her own fingers were covered in his blood after trying to plead with him to get up. Her mouth was covered in her own blood from where the king of Hybern had hit her.

She couldn’t stop the tears from falling as she stared at Cassian and shook her head. “I can’t,” she sobbed.

“Think of the baby,” Cassian begged her, and Nesta brought her hand to her protruding stomach, where the baby was actively kicking. Crying, she slowly nodded in agreement before standing up. She had to get away before the king of Hybern returned.

They were on the top of a muddy hill. The ground was slippery, but Nesta was able to start her descent to get to a safe spot.

But as she was making her way down the hill, she realized she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave Cassian to die alone. She had to go back to him.

She turned to go back up the hill. But just when she was about to reach the top, she slipped and fell hard on her pregnant stomach,  sliding down the hill.

“No, no, no, no,” Nesta cried once her body came to a stop.

The baby’s kicking had ceased. She knew...she just knew the baby had passed. She could sense it. It was too hard of a fall. Tears streamed down her face.

But there was no time to mourn because there was still a chance - a very small chance - that she could at least save Cassian. She couldn’t lose both the baby and him…

Dying with him would be better than living without them both anyway.

Desperately, she went back up the hill, more carefully this time. But when she reached the top, she spotted the king of Hybern. Their eyes locked, then he raised his hand and a shot of power blasted out, hitting her in the leg and causing her to drop to the ground.

The jolt of pain in her leg...it felt so real…

Laying on her front, she turned toward Cassian who was still alive but taking labored breaths. His eyes were on her as he mouthed, “I love you.”

She crawled toward him, and once she was beside him, she reached for him.

But just before she could touch him, another jolt of power shot out of the king of Hybern’s hand, striking Nesta’s hand, followed by a killing blow to Cassian.

Nesta gasped as she opened her eyes and sat up in her bed. She looked down at her hand, which currently felt like it was burning with pain as she grasped her comforter.

But the pain only lasted for a moment. She let go of the blanket and held up her hand at eye-level, flexing it. Were her powers acting up again? Or was it all just her imagination? She knew she just had a nightmare, a distorted version of her encounter with the king of Hybern.

The pain just felt so real. Even in the dream, when the king of Hybern struck her leg, it felt real. Pulling back the covers, she looked down at her leg.

It looked perfectly normal.

Perhaps being without Cassian during this stressful time was driving her mad. She knew that was why the nightmares were triggered again. With him in the Rite, the thought of potentially losing him again had made her think of the day she almost lost him to the king of Hybern.

But now those dreams had evolved into something slightly different. Nesta placed her hand against her stomach, hoping to feel a kick.

But she didn’t.

Leaning back against the headboard, a few tears slipped out as she closed her eyes .

“Come back to me, Cassian,” she whispered into the night. “I won’t be able to survive this loss without you.”

________________________________________________________________

Cassian’s body materialized in front of his cabin. Face down in the snowy ground, he gingerly lifted up his head to look at the door all while fighting to keep his eyes open.

As he blinked multiple times, he noticed a shadowy figure stepping outside of his home, rushing to approach him.

“Brother,” the figure called out.

Could it be...Azriel? Cassian’s mind was slow to process everything. He didn’t even feel like he was truly back at Windhaven.

Azriel. It was Azriel.

But if...Azriel...was here...then, where was…

“Where,” Cassian paused to take another breath. “...is she?” he demanded to know.

If Azriel was here and saw Nesta, then that would mean...he would know about...

“Let’s get you inside, brother,” Azriel stated as he bent down to help lift Cassian up. It was then that Cassian heard Azriel take a sharp intake of breath. He must’ve noticed his injuries.

Slowly, Cassian pushed himself up off the ground and leaned on the uninjured leg while the injured one continued to bleed. His hand was dripping blood onto the snow. Pain throbbed through his leg and his hand and then there was this ache in his chest…

No, it hadn’t been a chest injury, he realized. It was a combination of an ache and an emptiness that signified…he wasn’t near his mate.

“WHERE IS SHE?” Cassian barked as Azriel wrapped his non-bleeding arm around his shoulders to assist him in his walk to the cabin.

“She’s in Velaris,” Azriel stately calmly as he nudged Cassian forward.

“V-Velaris?” Cassian sputtered. “What is she doing there? Why isn’t she here?”

Cassian couldn’t think nor process what he was hearing. Why would she leave him to go back to the place she didn’t care about?

Azriel heaved a sigh as they stepped up the platform together and walked past the threshold to his home, and that was when Cassian knew something was wrong.

“Azriel, tell me,” Cassian insisted.

“Cassian, we need to tend to your wounds first.”

“TELL ME.”

“She was attacked,” Emerie said solemnly as she appeared in the entryway. “I failed to protect her.”

Cassian may have been on the edge of exhaustion but his mind nearly exploded with anger and questions that were severely in need of answers.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE WAS ATTACKED? BY WHO? IS SHE ALL RIGHT?”

“She’s okay,” Azriel replied calmly.

“I’ll give you all the details after we’ve taken care of you first,” Emerie said while following Azriel and Cassian to the couch.

But Cassian was in no mood to be sitting down right now. He roughly gripped onto Azriel’s shoulder, preventing him from leaving his side until he got answers.

Because if Nesta was attacked, then…

Cassian’s heart skipped a beat. “Is the...is her…” he stumbled over his words as he looked at Emerie. Emerie of course knew about the baby. Surely ,Azriel must’ve known about it too now.

Emerie turned her gaze toward Azriel, looking for him to answer.

“They don’t know if the baby is still alive,” Azriel whispered before firmly removing Cassian’s hand from his shoulder and gently pushing Cassian to sit on the couch. Emerie picked up the glass of water that rested on the table in the middle of the room and held it out to Cassian.

But Cassian’s body stilled and sat in stunned silence. It felt as if his heart had shattered into a million little pieces. They didn’t know if the baby still lived? But the baby had to live. It had to.

If he hadn’t been so dehydrated, he surely would have felt tears form in his eyes. And if he was this shaken by the news, then Nesta…

Nesta.

There would always be time for revenge on whoever did this to her. But Nesta...he needed to get to her before she lost herself again. Before she drowned again and refused to let anyone help her again.

“I need to go to her. Right now,” Cassian announced as he looked back up at Azriel, disregarding the glass Emerie was holding.

“Rhys will be here soon to winnow you. But first, we need to take care of you, or else you won’t even be alive to see her.” There was a slight edge to Azriel’s voice now. He clearly was getting frustrated with him.

Emerie, who now had bandages in her hands, was approaching him to start wrapping his injuries.

But Cassian didn’t care about that right now. He needed to get to Nesta.

“But she needs me now!”

“And you need to rest!” Azriel exclaimed.

“You don’t understand! She -” Cassian had begun, but Azriel now held the glass of water and suddenly shoved it into his face, holding the back of Cassian’s head as he did so in order to force him to drink it.

Cassian nearly gagged as he was left with no choice but to chug the water...which had a slightly odd taste to it…

Within seconds, his eyes shut closed and he lost consciousness.

________________________________________________________________

“You’ll need to eat something and drink some water before I give you another dose,” he heard a familiar female voice say.

Slowly, Cassian opened up his eyes, squinting his eyes at the sunlight that shone through the bedroom.

A bedroom that wasn’t his, he realized. As he scanned the room, it appeared to be one of the bedrooms at Rhys and Feyre’s home.

Velaris. He was in Velaris then. That realization pushed him to sit up in bed immediately. Madja stood at the side of his bed, holding a tray with soup and water.

How long had he been asleep? His eyes still demanded to be shut, so he must’ve not gotten a whole lot of sleep.

“Where is Nesta?” he asked with a rough edge to his voice.

“I don’t know,” she answered firmly. “But I do know that you need to eat this soup, drink this water, take another dose of medicine for your pain and dehydration and go back to sleep.”

Cassian yanked the blanket off of his body and swung his legs to the side of the bed, preparing to stand up. As he did so, he noticed that his hand and his leg had both been wrapped in bandages. “I need to see Nesta,” he muttered.

“You’ve only had a few hours of sleep! You need to stay here to eat and rest,” Madja ordered.

Ignoring her and the aches he still felt in his body, Cassian stood and clumsily crossed the room. He didn’t move as swiftly as he would’ve liked, but he wasn’t capable. Groaning to himself as he left the room, he reached the bannister of the staircase and held onto it as he descended the staircase. “Nesta!” he cried out. “Nesta!”

But he heard nothing in response.

When he’d reached the bottom of the staircase, he didn’t know where to turn. His current headache from his exhaustion certainly didn’t help.

Then, Feyre appeared, walking in from the nearby kitchen. “Cassian?” she asked in surprise.

“Where is Nesta?” he demanded to know, desperate to find her.

There may have been much to talk about with Feyre. But right now, that didn’t matter. If Nesta was suffering, then he just prayed he wasn’t too late. He would not let her enter her downward spiral again. Never again.

“You need to -” Feyre began.

“I need to find Nesta!” he barked, feeling sick and tired of everyone trying to deter him from what he needed to do.

“She’s in the garden,” Feyre whispered. “But she keeps insisting she doesn’t want to be bothered by anyone. Saying she needs time to herself,” Feyre stated worriedly.

He prayed again that he wasn’t too late.

“I’ll talk to her,” Cassian said as he pushed past Feyre, heading straight for the door that led to the backyard.

Evidently, there had been many changes to Rhys and Feyre’s garden since he last went into their backyard. It now looked like a jungle out there, with various trees, shrubs, and foliage covering the expansive yard. No doubt it was courtesy of Elain.

But Cassian couldn’t help but let out a sigh of frustration over the fact that this was yet another obstacle to finding Nesta quickly. Seeing a pathway through the garden, he decided to follow it and continued to disregard the discomfort he felt with his injuries.

Unsteadily, he made his way along the path, stepping on the flat, circular stones until they led to an open green area that had been lined with flowers that were just beginning to bloom.

Then he saw her.

Her back was toward him and the sunlight illuminated her golden brown hair as she sat on a blanket on the grass.

“Nesta,” he breathed. Her back seemed to stiffen at the mention of her name, but she didn’t turn around.

Rushing as quickly as he could, Cassian ended up behind her and collapsed to the ground on his knees. “Nesta,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her so his hands were wound tightly against her chest above her stomach.

At first, she did not react. She only sat there and didn’t move any part of her body at all.

No, I can’t be too late. I can’t be.

But then, in a movement that left him breathless, she relaxed in his arms and turned her head to the side to look up at him. “Cassian?” she said quietly in disbelief.

Her eyes were red from crying, and the dark circles beneath her eyes revealed how little sleep she had been getting lately.

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here,” he said as he bent his head to place a kiss on her temple.

“Cassian,” she repeated, this time out of relief. She twisted her body so she could wrap her arms around him and bury her face into his chest.

He couldn’t help but let out a grunt of pain as she did so, considering how sore he felt. Based upon hearing her gasp, she must have noticed and so she had begun to pull away.

But Cassian was quick to hug her to him. “Don’t you dare let go,” he requested softly as he placed a kiss to the top of her head.

“But you’re hurt,” she protested.

“And I need you to heal me,” he explained with a small smile, but Nesta still seemed hesitant to grab hold of him again. “If we lie down, it won’t hurt as much,” he suggested.

Nesta immediately shifted herself so Cassian could readjust his position to lay down across the length of the blanket. Nesta followed suit, laying her head on top of his chest and draping her hand across his abdomen. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“Perfect,” he remarked as he began running his fingers through her hair, toying with her braid in the hopes of untangling it. Lying beside her had brought him such ease and reminded him of all the times he laid beside her before.

Before she was attacked.

“Tell me what happened,” he asked rather gruffly, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

He felt her tears leak out of her eyes and onto his chest before she replied. “The first night after you left, I was sleeping in your bed.”

Cassian’s eyes lit up in surprise at her statement, but he couldn’t playfully tease her for saying such a thing as he normally would have. Not now. Not when they were just about to discuss her attack.

“And I heard a noise. I thought it was Emerie, so I left the room. But it was an Illyrian I didn’t recognize. He called me a whore and said something like ‘Cassian’s child will never…’ and then that...power came out of my hands again which slowed his breathing, but he sent us both falling down the staircase.”

Cassian’s hand paused in stroking her hair. “They wanted to kill your child only because they thought it was mine,” he realized solemnly. “I should have never said…”

“No matter what you said, they would have assumed you were the father since I lived with you,” Nesta interrupted him. “And of course, I happened to be sleeping in your bed that night,” she added bitterly. “If only I hadn’t gone up there…” she trailed off.

“What happened next?” he asked sadly.

“I was knocked out from the fall. When I woke up, Emerie helped write a note to Rhys. He came immediately and brought me here,” she explained. “Cassian, Madja doesn’t...she doesn’t know if the baby is still alive. She said if I don’t feel her kick in the next few days, then we can assume…”

Cassian felt another burst of tears drip onto his chest. She didn’t finish her sentence, but she didn’t need to. He understood what she was trying to say.

If he weren’t still dehydrated, he knew he would have cried with her. “And what about you? Are you hurt physically?”

“My back was badly injured, but the medicine has taken care of that. Then, there’s just been some slight aches and pains in the past few days.”

The back injury...that was what he must have felt through the bond when he fell down the monolith…

“Whichever camp did this to you...will pay for this,” he stated angrily. “But it is also my fault,” he added woefully as he started rubbing her shoulder and upper arm.. “I’m sorry I failed to protect you again. I wasn’t there for you.”

“I’m the one who told you to do the Rite.”

“And I listened.”

“This isn’t your fault,” she insisted.

“I should have never let Feyre force you to come to the mountains with me,” he muttered.

“And then you would have never loved me,” she noted bitterly.

Cassian was almost angry that she made such an assumption and that was the conclusion she drew from him making such a remark. “Sweetheart, look at me,” he requested.

Nesta lifted her head up off of his chest to look back at him. Her cheeks were stained with tears.

Placing his palm against her cheek, he stared into her eyes. “It is because I love you that I wish you would have never felt this pain. I do not regret loving you at all. If you hadn’t come to the Illyrian Mountains, I would have fallen in love with you some other way. I know it.”

He started rubbing his thumb on her cheek, wiping away the stray tears that fell.  “I’m so thankful you’re still alive,” he added in a whisper.

When he first found her in the garden, he hadn’t noticed how at peace he felt through the bond. He also hadn’t observed until now the slight edge he felt in regards to scenting the child within her. If he could still pick up the father’s scent from the baby, then surely that meant the baby still lived?

But how was he supposed to tell her that without revealing the mating bond? He so badly wanted to eliminate her worries. But he didn’t want to get her hopes up if he ended up being wrong about this either...

Nesta laid her chin down on Cassian’s chest and still looked at him. “I’m so glad you’re here and alive,” she revealed softly. She reached her hand out to run her fingers across his face, probably noticing all the scrapes and bruises on him. “What happened during the Rite?”

“It’s not important,” he remarked tiredly, brushing it off. Compared to what happened to Nesta and what may have happened to the baby, he didn’t feel the need to go into it. 

“Tell me,” she ordered.

“It was a lot of climbing, a lot of fighting, and a lot of almost dying from lack of food and drink,” he explained before a yawn escaped his mouth.

Nesta frowned. “You should be sleeping.”

“I need to be with you,” he insisted, right before his body growled with hunger.

“And you should be eating,” Nesta added.

But Cassian didn’t care, so he placed both of his hands within her hair. He finished untangling her braid and ran his fingers through the strands.

Nesta sighed. “You need to eat and rest so I don’t lose you too,” she said seriously, and fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

“You won’t lose me.”

“Cassian, please go eat and sleep.”

“Only if you come with me.”

“Fine,” she said, as she moved herself to get up off the ground.

“Wait,” Cassian halted her, moving to get up himself. Once he stood, he bent over to hold out his hands, ignoring the way his body protested such movement. Nesta grabbed them as she slowly got up off the ground.

As he steadied her, Nesta gave him a peculiar look as she looked at his bandage wrappings on his hand, then saw her eyes drift down to his leg.  

One she was upright, Cassian let go of her hands to pick up her blanket and started folding it.

“How did they hurt your leg and your hand?” she asked.

“One Illyrian staked my leg with a wooden stick when I had reached the top of the monolith,” he explained. “Then, when I was about to touch the stone to complete the Rite, another Illyrian staked my hand.”

“When did this happen?”

Cassian struggled to think through his exhaustion as he finished folding the blanket into a small rectangle. “The last night of the Rite...so last night?” he guessed as he looked back over at Nesta, who was staring at the palm of her hand.

“Last night, I woke up during the night because I was in pain,” she began seriously. “I had felt the pain in my leg first, and then my hand.” She looked back up at him with a very solemn look upon her face. “Cassian, are we... mates?”

Cassian froze and felt the color drain from his face. “We’re…” he began but didn’t finish.

“Are we or aren’t we?” she demanded impatiently.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “We are.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock. At first it looked like no words could come out of her. She kept staring at him, and he could see the rage ignite in her eyes.

“How long have you known?” she asked coldly when she was able to find the words.

“Since the baby first kicked,” he answered with a deep breath.

Now she looked livid. “That was nearly two months ago! Were you ever planning to tell me?”

“I just...I wanted to wait and...and,” he sputtered. “And see if you loved me first so you wouldn’t feel forced into this!”

Nesta shook her head back and forth. “None of this was real,” she said in disbelief. “This whole time, I was thinking I - ”

“This is real!” Cassian piped in, dropping the blanket and placing his arms on her shoulders. “The bond doesn’t mean anything!”

“Yes, it does!” she shouted back. “This means I’ve had no control or choice in this.”

“Being mates has no control over how we feel about each other!” he said as moved his hands to her cheeks. “Nesta, I love you,” he declared desperately, imploring her to believe him.

Nesta shook her head back and forth as the tears streamed down her face. “Don’t touch me!” she exclaimed and Cassian reluctantly removed his hands out of respect to her wishes. “Now, get out of my sight!” she yelled as she crossed her arms. “I never want to see you again!”

“Nesta, please,” he begged.

“Get. Out,” she stated in a deadly calm voice.

At a loss for words, he began to turn around to follow the path out of the garden. Right before he vanished from her view, he turned back. “I honestly love you, Nesta. And whatever your feelings are, they are real,” he stated before turning back around and continuing his way out of the garden.

“Right now, I feel like murdering you!” she shouted at his back.

Cassian cringed at her words, hating himself for how everything spiraled out of control.

He wasn’t sure what to do. But for now, he would demand Madja knock him unconscious so he could at least escape this heartbreak for a little while.

________________________________________________________________

When she had first heard Cassian calling her name in the garden, she had thought her mind was playing tricks on her.

Even though she had been told that Cassian had arrived at Rhys and Feyre’s home early that morning, he’d been unconscious and was being treated for his injuries and dehydration. She couldn’t celebrate his return just yet.

But then when he had come up behind her and wrapped his arms around as he said her name, it had finally felt real that he was there, and her heart had never felt such a joy before.

But it was all a lie.

Everything she had felt within her heart toward Cassian...everything he claimed to feel for her...they were all lies. It was only a product of some silly, animalistic instinct that brought them together.

She had no choice in the matter.

Just like everything else in this new life of hers. Whatever made her think that she could even have a choice in something? She was such a fool.

“If you hadn’t come to the Illyrian Mountains, I would have fallen in love with you some other way. I know it.”

Well, of course he knew it because he knew that they were mates.

And he chose to keep this information from her. After all they had shared with each other during their time in the mountains, he chose to keep this a secret from her.    

When she fully noticed Cassian’s injuries, memories of her nightmare and the pain she felt last night came back to her and it all clicked. She had been familiar with how Feyre and Rhys felt each other’s pain.

At least the bond explained how in the world Cassian could “love” someone like her. He had to be pulled to her and forced by instinct in order to do so. Otherwise, she was an unloveable monster. It all made much more sense now.

And for her...well now it made sense how she could love a foolish, pompous bastard like him.

And yet, why did it feel like she was being stabbed in the heart over and over again from this revelation of them being mates?

She wanted so badly to hate him, but found she couldn’t do so. Not when she thought of how he would prepare her meals, eat with her, shop for maternity clothes with her, seek her opinions, always think of her needs before she did, give her that infamous look that brought butterflies to her stomach…

But that was the mating bond’s doing, wasn’t it? You couldn’t hate your mate because the damn fae magic had put you together.

She wished she could scream, but she felt like she was being submerged in that tub of water again, being robbed of her life. 

When she lived with Cassian and let go of her life of sleeping with random males and drowning herself in alcohol, she instead had been gradually growing accustomed to the idea of raising a child with Cassian’s help. In fact, she had been looking forward to such a life. 

But now, it appeared that both the baby and Cassian were being taken from her, leaving her alone once more. 

She remained in the garden and cried, mourning the loss of that potential new life she almost had.

________________________________________________________________

Hours later, as the sun was setting, she heard someone approach her in the garden from behind.

She clenched her fists, ready to fire at whoever dared to speak to her. If it was Cassian again, she was sure she would explode with fury.

“Nesta? You’re still out here?” Feyre asked curiously. 

At least it wasn’t Cassian, but the realization that it was her youngest sister made her sigh. Here would come more questions, more prodding.

“Obviously,” Nesta answered without turning to look back at her.

“Did you see Cassian? He had been looking for you earlier.”

“Unfortunately,” she replied glumly.

“Did something...happen?” Feyre seemed to hesitantly say.

Nesta wasn’t exactly sure what Feyre was implying with that question, but if she wasn’t going to specify, then a vague answer is what she would get.

“Just losing control of my life as usual,” she said emotionlessly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

At that, Nesta finally turned her head to look at Feyre standing over her. “You of all people should know,” she began calmly. “You’re the one who became part of the fae realm, which led me to being a part of your war and being forced to become a fae with powers connected to the Cauldron. Then after the war, you sent me away to the Illyrian Mountains.”

“But you needed help,” Feyre tried to quietly explain as she bent down and sat beside Nesta. “I was trying to help you.”

Nesta shook her head and looked down at the blanket she was sitting on, absentmindedly playing with the fringe at the edge of it with her fingers. “I’m a problem you don’t want to deal with. You sent me away from you, giving me to Cassian handle.”

“Only because I felt I had already tried so hard to help. I had invited you to our home, to celebrations - ”

“Yes, to places where everyone was going about with their perfect, happy little lives while I was dying inside,” Nesta explained quietly, managing to hold back from raising her voice. “It made me feel worse. I felt so alone.” 

Nesta looked back up at Feyre to find tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize…”

“Feyre? Nesta? Are you ready for dinner?” Elain called out as she approached where the two of them were sitting. “Oh Nesta, you’re sitting right in front of the flowers I planted for you!”

Elain ran up to them and plopped down beside Nesta. She pointed to the stems which had not yet bloomed. “They haven’t bloomed yet, but they’ll be a fiery red...bold like you,” Elain added with a smile.

Nesta didn’t smile back. The day’s events and conversations had left her exhausted and upset.

Upon no reaction from Nesta, Elain pressed on. “Dinner is ready. Rhys and Azriel are waiting.”

Just as she had done the past few days, Nesta planned to eat alone in the bedroom she slept in. There was no way she was going to be able to sit at a dinner with all of them. They weren’t suffering like she was, with the potential loss of a baby and the loss of her free will...She wouldn’t be able to handle hearing about their happy lives.

“Perhaps…” Feyre reached out and grabbed Nesta’s hand. “Perhaps just the three of us could eat together?”

Feyre looked at Nesta expectantly. After the words they had just exchanged between each other, maybe Feyre realized how uncomfortable a group dinner for her would be.

Nesta wasn’t sure if she was ready for just a dinner with her sisters. While she had begun talking to Feyre about how she had felt, she didn’t know if she could talk much more. But she wouldn’t be able to handle light chatter either. Not with Cassian’s betrayal looming over her along with the anxiety of hoping her baby would kick soon.

“Maybe another time,” Nesta answered.

Feyre slowly nodded in understanding and released her hand.

But as soon as she let go, Nesta felt something strange.

There was a brief tap within her stomach. Was she imagining things?

But then, she felt a kick.

A kick!

Nesta gasped and brought her hands to her stomach. The baby was kicking, and Nesta couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face and the tears of joy that filled her eyes.

“The baby’s kicking!” she exclaimed as she brought Feyre’s and Elain’s hands to her stomach to feel it too.

Once they felt it, the two of them were beaming and giggling with Nesta over the sensation. “Oh Nesta, I’m so happy for you,” Feyre said, leaning against Nesta to wrap her free hand around her shoulder. Elain followed suit.

Tears continued to fall down Nesta’s face, unable to contain her joy.

“We’re going to be aunts, Feyre! Can you believe it?” Elain gushed. “And Nesta...you’re going to be a mother!”

She was still going to be a mother...and she was overjoyed by that revelation.

________________________________________________________________

After days that largely consisted of sleeping with only brief moments of waking up to eat  and take medicine to heal his body, Cassian woke up with the intention of actually spending the day being awake to get back to normal.

As well as make amends with Nesta.

His body felt so much better. When he swung his legs over the side of the bed, he no longer felt it protest. Now, he felt energized and ready to move about. Lifting up his hand, he unwrapped the bandages to discover there were no scars or scratches on it. Looking down at his thigh, he found no bandages wrapped around it. It looked as if it had never been injured.

Now, he only needed his relationship with Nesta to be healed. Perhaps she had simmered down a bit. Maybe now she would be in the mood to talk.

During his days of sleep, he often dreamed of her. Of simple moments of just being with her. Of her teasing him playfully. Of walking along the streets of Velaris together. Of them strolling along the bridge and looking up at the night sky. Of him teaching her how to fight and defend herself. Of him raising her child with her.

All the things he longed to do with her.

And he desperately hoped that her child was fine. In the brief moments he was awake the past few days, he stayed in his room and didn’t talk to anyone. Madja had always left him his food and medicine on the bedside table.

He left his room and just like a few days ago, he rushed down the stairs with the intent of finding Nesta.

He happened upon Elain first, who had been drinking some tea in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Cassian,” she said. “Are you feeling better?”

“I am,” he replied. “Do you know where Nesta is?”

“I think she’s in her room,” Elain answered. “It’s upstairs in the room next to mine.”

That meant it was in a different wing of the house from where he had been sleeping.

“I’ll go see if she’s awake,” Cassian explained before darting off in the direction of her room. If she stuck to her routine that she had while in the mountains, then she would most likely be awake already.

After eagerly climbing up the stairs, he went to the closed door that was beside the entry to Elain’s room. Taking a deep breath, he knocked upon the door. He debated calling out her name, but if he did...there was a chance she wouldn’t open it if she knew it was him.

Slowly, the door opened. Nesta appeared startled to see him and moved to close the door. But Cassian stuck his hand out to stop the door from shutting.

“Nesta, can we please talk?”

“Shouldn’t you be showering? Your stench is awful.”

Cassian sighed. “Nesta - ”

“I told you that I never want to see you again,” she interjected. “Now please leave before I get upset. I can’t risk hurting the baby.”

Cassian’s heart stopped. “Is the baby…?”

“The baby has been kicking the past few days,” she explained.

A wave of relief and delight came over him. “Oh, thank the gods!” Cassian exclaimed as he felt tears sting his eyes. Out of instinct, he moved as if he were going to embrace Nesta, but she quickly stepped back so she was out of his reach.

Reluctantly, Cassian brought his hands back to his sides. “I’m so glad,” he whispered.

Nesta just gave a nod in response, then proceeded to start closing the door again.

“Nesta,” he whispered. “Please know that I love you.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Please...just talk to your sisters about the bond,” he said. “Then maybe you’ll better understand.”

Nesta said nothing as she shut the door.

Cassian took a deep breath, then leaned his forehead against the door and pressed his palm against it. “Nesta...I just don’t want us to waste anymore time, like you said before.”

“Well, spending time with you may have been a waste of my time,” she noted snobbily.

Cassian heaved a heavy sigh before walking away.

How foolish of him to think Nesta may have calmed down after only a few days.

________________________________________________________________

Nesta leaned her head against the door as a few tears escaped her eyes

It still hurt too much to know that he had lied to her and the feelings between them might not even be real. She had to cut him down by claiming he’d been wasting her time...which could have very well been true.

And yet, her heart still leapt when she opened the door to find Cassian awake and healed... and the fact that she had such a feeling infuriated her. The stupid bond.

And when he cried after hearing that the baby was alive, she had wanted to feel him wrap his arms around her and have him feel the baby’s kicking for himself. But she forced herself to step out of his reach.

Because of course the baby had been kicking when he was with her. Before the attack, the baby always seemed to have a habit of kicking when Cassian was around. She hoped the baby wouldn’t be disappointed about not hearing his voice anymore.

When her feet started aching, she finally pulled her head away from the door and waddled over to her bed. As she plopped down, she couldn’t help but wonder where she could live to raise her child now that Cassian’s cabin was no longer an option.

And Cassian’s help in raising the child was no longer an option. The thought pierced her heart. She would have to handle this alone.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “Who is it?” she asked, lacking the energy to get up.

Earlier, when she had first heard knocking, she assumed it would be Elain and Feyre at the door, considering they had stopped by to bring her breakfast and eat with her the past few mornings. Finding Cassian there this morning had been unexpected and now she knew she always needed to ask before opening the door.

“Your sisters!” she heard Elain exclaim.

“Come in,” she answered, and her sisters promptly opened the door and came over to her bed, carrying a breakfast tray table that they placed in the middle of the mattress. Nesta sat up in the bed.

Upon the tray were multiple stacks of pancakes topped with syrup and butter. The sight of them made Nesta frown since they reminded her of the times Cassian would make her pancakes whenever she craved them.

“What’s wrong?” Elain asked.

Nesta shook her head. “Nothing,” she replied before grabbing a plate of pancakes and a fork from the tray. Her sisters followed suit.

“Was it Cassian? He was looking for you this morning,” Elain asked.

“I don’t want to talk about Cassian,” Nesta sternly said as she stabbed at a piece of pancake rather forcefully.

“So it is about Cassian then?” Feyre wondered.

“I do not waste my worries or thoughts on a foolish bastard like him,” Nesta insisted, not wanting her sisters to know about what her relationship with Cassian had been like when they were in the mountains. “I just...don’t know where I’m going to live with the baby.”

“But Nesta, you are welcome to live here,” Feyre stated earnestly, putting down her fork and moving to grab Nesta’s hand, but Nesta moved it out of reach.

“Really? Because the lack of photographs of me in your estate says otherwise,” Nesta noted as she scowled.

It looked as if the words burned Feyre based on the facial expression she made. “Nesta,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...we just hadn’t taken pictures recently. I didn’t mean to make you feel excluded.”

Nesta snorted in disbelief.

“I’m serious,” Feyre added. “You are of course welcome to stay here and live here.”

“And let you control the way I raise my child? I don’t think so.”

Feyre frowned. “Is that why you didn’t tell us about the baby? You thought we’d take control?”

“As I’ve already pointed out to you, all you’ve done is lead me into a life where I’ve been left with no control.”

“Well, maybe if you’d actually helped to provide for our family, I wouldn’t have had to hunt for food and I would have never killed that wolf that led me meeting Tamlin and knowing about this fae realm,” Feyre fired back.

Nesta stared at her for a moment. “Well, I’m sorry we can’t recover from our sufferings as quickly as you,” she stated snobbishly.

The anger vanished from Feyre’s face, and she looked down at her plate. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Please know that I haven’t been holding that against you.”

After a pause, Nesta spoke again. “Know that I regret not helping to feed you both,” she said softly as she looked down at her plate.

Elain put down her plate and fork and reached out to grab Nesta’s hand and Feyre’s hand. “It’s all in the past,” she stated.

“Nesta,” Feyre began calmly. “Live with us here at the estate. We can help you raise the baby. Me and Rhys have been trying to have a child, so we’re ready to have a baby in our home. Yours could help us prepare for a baby of our own.”

Nesta wanted to to turn down the idea. Who’s to say that Feyre wouldn’t start controlling the way Nesta handled raising her baby? But...but she’d have help in raising the baby. And it would be a safe place to live. She had to put her baby’s needs ahead of her own.

“Do you promise not to control me and the way I raise my baby?” Nesta asked seriously.

Feyre nodded. “I promise,” she said as she put down her fork and offered her free hand to Nesta.

Slowly, Nesta put down her fork and grabbed Feyre’s hand. “Okay,” she said.

Elain smiled brightly at her sisters and squeezed her sisters’ hands. “I can’t wait to help decorate the baby’s room!”

________________________________________________________________

“It’s good to see you, brother,” Rhys greeted as he embraced Cassian when he walked into the living room.

“Likewise,” Cassian stated, trying to keep a smile on his face as he did. But he couldn’t stop replaying that morning’s conversation with Nesta in his head, making it difficult to be happy about anything else.

Rhys opened his mouth to speak as the two of them pulled away, but Cassian was quick to cut in. “Who attacked Nesta?”

He had to know. He didn’t care that his question came off as abrupt. He had to find out which camp was responsible for nearly killing Nesta and her child. He needed his revenge.

Rhys eyed him curiously before turning around to go to the drink cart and began searching for a specific bottle.

Cassian was getting more impatient as the seconds ticked by. “Tell me, please.”

“It was Warrick from camp Erwood,” Rhys calmly revealed as he poured two drinks. Cassian felt his blood begin to boil in rage. “I visited Vitus the other day. We got into a bit of a fight, but he insists that Warrick acted alone, that he did not plan this.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not convinced either,” Rhys explained as he went over to Cassian and held out a glass of whisky for him to take.

Cassian was pretty sure he hadn’t had an alcoholic drink since Solstice, and he hadn’t been in want of one. Not when Nesta couldn’t drink. It didn’t seem right to do so.

Cassian shook his head, causing Rhys’ eyebrow to rise in confusion, but he said nothing. Rhys took a seat on the couch across from Cassian and looked up at him. Cassian, still standing and infuriated, couldn’t be bothered to sit down. He was ready to go right now to talk to Vitus and give him hell for what had happened. He started pacing about the room hurriedly in anxious frustration.

All the while, Rhys watched him in confusion as he sipped from his drink.

“Then we should go to Erwood right now and punish him,” Cassian demanded.

Maybe even kill him, Cassian thought.

Rhys put his drink down on the table. “There’s something I need to know first,” Rhys said with an edge to his voice.

Cassian couldn’t handle this. They were taking too long. Didn’t Rhys understand that he needed to go right now? Someone had hurt the woman and child he loved and…

But, then again...of course Rhys didn’t know that he needed to go right now. No one else knew what had developed between him and Nesta over the past five months.

“Why didn’t you tell me and Feyre about Nesta’s pregnancy?” Rhys finally asked in a hurt voice.

Cassian paused his pacing and looked over at Rhys. “It wasn’t my place to tell,” Cassian whispered.

“Wasn’t your place to tell?” Rhys’ voice rose in anger. “Considering she’s my mate’s sister, I think we had every right to know!”

“Well, my mate wasn’t ready to tell her!” Cassian shouted back, and Rhys’ mouth dropped open in shock.

“Nesta is your…?” he asked more calmly, his voice trailing off.

Cassian nodded. “She’s my mate,” he stated confidently.

“I’m...sorry,” Rhys said awkwardly.

“I’m not,” Cassian was quick to say. “You just don’t understand her or what she’s been through. But we’ve come to understand each other...at least somewhat,” Cassian added upon thinking about how he didn’t comprehend how she could deny her feelings for him at the moment over the bond. “And I...love her.”

Rhys seemed to be at a loss for what he should say. It looked like he was unable to wrap his head around this information. “Does she...love you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

“Has she...has she accepted the bond?” Rhys asked.

“No. She only just found out about it a few days ago,” Cassian said. “I had known for about two months,” he admitted quietly.

“Ah, so now she’s mad of course,” Rhys commented knowingly. “She is an Archeron after all.”

Cassian nodded. “Well, I hope she’ll forgive me like Feyre forgave you.”

Rhys nodded and took another sip of his drink.

“You’re fighting the urge to say you don’t think she will, aren’t you?” Cassian questioned him, with a slight grin on his face.

Rhys swallowed. “You’re right. But...apparently, I don’t really know her. It sounds like...you do though.”

“It’s still hard to say...but I will do all I can to get her forgiveness and prove to her that I love her,” Cassian stated. “Starting with dealing with camp Erwood.” 

“Well…” Rhys said as he stood up off the couch. “I guess we better get going to Illyria then.”

________________________________________________________________

A/N:  Eeeeeeeeeeeep. Hope you all don't hate me for this chapter either! (but hey, the baby lives, so that's a win!)

Thank you for all the support as always!

---> CHAPTER 11

[loyalflutist]

The Warriors of Light

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depiction of Violence Category: F/F Relationship: Edeleth Characters: Edelgard, f!Byleth, Hubert, Mercedes Words: 8,404 Summary: It has been five years since the Seventh Umbra Calamity. Byleth Eisner, once a proud mercenary and hero for Eorzea, now retreats as a Botanist in Gridania. She vows to live a content life in the present, throwing away her past. However, a meeting with one Marauder soon ignites what she truly desires. 

A/N: Whew, I finally wrote something. I got hooked into FF XIV, so RIP, I had a ton of ideas for some of the Three Houses cast. Some information may be inaccurate or not up to date as I’ve only finished A Realm Reborn as of this posting. Other than that, I hope you enjoy it! Major thanks to HeartbeatDivinity for looking over the work! 

------

How long has it been since she last traveled the lands?

Back when she was a green sprout, Byleth walked among the lands of Eorzea, acting as the Gladiator, and stayed with her father and his mercenary guild. So long as the payment is right and the reasoning is just, they’re willing to do just about anything.

They were always on the move, and there was always so much to see. By the time she became a Paladin, she was at the ripe age of 18. The people she’s met, the landmarks she’s seen, the unforgettable battles she’s witnessed, and the friendship she’s forged with others… The adventures she had with her comrades seem never-ending.

She recalls the memory of a conversation she had with Jeralt.

“You know,” Jeralt mused. “I sometimes wonder if I’ve raised you right.”

The two sat near the campfire, their fingers toying with the grasses, the stars lighting up the night sky. Many of their comrades had fallen asleep in their tents, those awake safeguarding their temporary camp. Byleth raised her brows and glanced at Jeralt. He did not look at her. Instead, he kept his gaze high up, the corner of his lips occasionally twitching.

“I’m sure your mother wouldn’t want you to become a mercenary if she were still alive.”

“Really?” Byleth frowned. “Are we talking about this again?”

He shrugged his shoulders, finally looking at her, and weakly smiled. “I can’t help it. You were forced into it when you were young.” Jeralt moistened his lips. “If there’s one thing I regret, I regret dragging you into this business—”

“Father,” Byleth immediately placed a hand over his. “I never regret going into this business.” She squeezed. “If anything, I’m grateful. I got to see so much. It wouldn’t be the same if I were to stay in the city. Besides,” the Paladin grinned. “I get to help everyone, especially you.”

But nothing could last forever. Byleth hadn’t traveled for three long years. She’s settled not at her bustling homeland, Ul’dah, but in the lush greenery of Gridania.

How long has it been since the Seventh Umbral Calamity?

The surreal experience had Byleth checking if the event truly transpired with her journal each waking morning. She’s flipped the pages of her poorly conditioned bundle, her dark hues staring at the surviving written pages describing the horrors of the Battle of Carteneau.

It should have been a victory for everyone in Eorzea. All three Grand Companies from Ul’dah, Gridania, and Limsa Lominsa had joined forces. The Garlean Empire’s VIIth Legion was set for defeat. Dalamud, a lesser moon that was meant to purge the primals and cause massive destruction upon the world, would be stopped. Byleth, Jeralt, and their guild offered themselves to be a part of the frontline fighters for The Immortal Flames from Ul’dah.

Yet by the time Dalamud arrived, Byleth, down onto her knee and Jeralt supporting her, stared in pure horror at the moon with everyone.

No… It wasn’t the moon.

It was Bahamut.

The massive dragon screeched into the red sky. A single sweep of its wings blew everyone off their feet. Jeralt tightly embraced his wounded daughter as they tumbled backward. He grunted, spun himself upright, and rammed his lance down into the terrain in one smooth motion, stopping them short of crashing into the rocky walls. Through Byleth’s narrowed eyes, she watched the fearsome beast shoot endless supplies of firepower, striking like meteors upon the battlefield as it flew around. No matter which side the warriors were on, everyone in sight was obliterated, clouds of smoke left in its wake.

“!”

A blast of heatwave rushed through the duo. Jeralt grimaced and tightened his grip around his daughter. One of the meteor-like attacks was coming at them, and they were unable to escape it.

But Eorzea strategized a last-minute defense: Louisoix. The old male beckoned forth a single spell, shielding them from the killing strike. A couple of other lucky adventurers and fighters on the field were also protected from the relentless assaults. Soon, he, along with several other important individuals, performed an imprisonment ritual on Bahamut.

“No…”

It had failed.

Byleth whited out in her father’s grasp as Bahamut began to charge up its ultimate move. Just before she lost consciousness, she saw Jeralt smile.

Because of that, everything was a blur afterward for Byleth. She had woken up in a familiar desert. Patting herself all around and feeling her items, armors, weapon, and body parts intact felt too good to be true. The fact that she survived The Calamity when she was out in the frontline is a miracle in of itself.

How long has it been since she lost those precious to her?

Was it a curse? Or was it karma? Losing someone was common, especially when one becomes an adventurer or works in the field as a mercenary. Byleth had lost some of her comrades in the past. She’s mourned for them. However, none of them were like the time when she awakens after the Calamity.

Byleth had woken up outside of Ul’dah.

Alone.

She scrambled up to her feet after regaining her composure. Then, she called for her chocobo, Sothis, with a whistle, and searched for her comrades.

For one month, Byleth traveled to every possible continent in Eorzea, and she questioned everyone she saw. She lavishly spent gils on traveling at least twice a day. Some receptionists and chocobo keepers at the stations began to see her as a regular because of this.

It matters not to Byleth. Every nook and cranny in imaginable places where her guild members might be— most importantly, her father, was examined. Dungeons and expeditions to dangerous, foreign lands were thoroughly investigated as a solo member.

“Get out.”

She viciously lashed out to wild creatures and enemies that provoked her during the investigations. Blood splattered upon her face as Byleth heartlessly carved their demise. She slammed her sword down in a series of quick, powerful blows against the enemy, the squelching sound of flesh mashed by the sharp blade.

They were in her way.

“…” Byleth sheathed her bloodied sword. Her chocobo softly cooed in the background, her beak tainted with crimson from pecking their enemies. She approached the yellow bird and gently pat her. Standing in the very last room of an abandoned manor, Byleth firmed her lips. “They’re not here either.”

Something stirred inside of her. Like it was tearing her apart. Tears flowed down her cheeks as the Paladin lowered her head, a quiet sob shaking her body.

To this day, Byleth still misses Jeralt and her allies. Five years had passed, yet no one had announced their return. Their deaths were confirmed after she was invited to speak with Raubahn from Ul’dah. Only Byleth had survived from her guild.

Alone.

How long has it been since she had last seen the battlefield?

The last time she participated in any sort of battle was before she succumbed to her injuries near Gridania.

Byleth stood up to fight a growing threat within the forest. The East Shroud from The Black Shroud brims with various large creatures. That doesn’t exclude insects too. Sylphs had asked for her help to rid of the pesky buzzing intruders that threaten to overwhelm their community.

The young Paladin had changed gears, a red robe exchanged from her heavy armors. Sothis squawked nearby with her new steel armors, her wings flapping wildly at the incoming black wasps. Byleth bent her knees, reeled her body back and placed her hand on the katana.

She inhaled.

Eyes narrowed, she exhaled.

Byleth dashed forward, smoothly sliding the blade out, and diced her enemies into fine pieces. Grime and thick, gold fluid discolored her plain attire with each strike.

However, she had not expected the appearance of imperial forces, the Garlean Empire’s soldiers present with their guns.

Byleth danced around their bullets, slicing them cleanly in half with swift strokes. Sweat trickled down her face as she slashed a soldier’s side. Quick work was made with the other remaining cadets. They didn’t even have a chance to cry for their mothers.

Her chocobo kicked those that slipped past her owner’s sight with a powerful thump. They were sent flying and crashed into the others. Amidst the flurrying assault of red that rained on their bodies, the swarm eventually died down. Byleth straightened her posture and sheathed her katana.

It was too soon for her to relax.

A gunshot rang out. Byleth’s eyes widened as she jerked. Smoke drifted from a dying soldier’s barrel. When his light was finally extinguished, the Samurai hurried on Sothis, the yellow bird running to the nearest safe zone. Blood oozed from her right side, staining the feathered creature’s back. By the time she got there, she was unconscious.

That was the last time she ever went into battle.

When she recovered thanks to the kind residents of this land, after some self-reflection, Byleth swore to give up her arms. The wound she’s sustained hindered her ability to continue with her operation as a solo warrior, the occasional sharp, needle-like jabs stabbing her side.

Besides, it was high time she gives into early retirement.

Byleth would always look outside of her window, hearing the loud chatters and laughter of companions heading off on a quest. She drew a deep breath. There were plenty of other adventurers to take up arms and lead the future of Eorzea. Byleth dryly swallowed. She eventually turned her back from the glass panel and returned to her workstation.

The years that slowly crawled by brought about nostalgia. She sometimes missed being an adventurer despite her decision.

How long has it been since she had been called the Warrior of Light?

She, and so many others who were once called the Warrior of Light, ceased to exist in the present.

Whether they went into hiding, had given up, or died in the line of battle during The Calamity, the tale of their adventures became nothing more than a fantasy. Leaders and survivors speak of their existence, but after five years of silence, no one would speak about them.

Not even Byleth.

The ghost of her past threatened to torture her, its black talons hovering over her neck. Just hearing the title sparked terror for the Samurai. Memories surged about the people she’s once befriended. Other Warriors of Light that shared a draft beer with her every week vanished, their final impressions being that of their corpses.

And every night, Byleth would wake up, screaming for her father. Annette would rush into her bedroom, offering warm towels, and a shoulder to lean on. On the day the young girl asked about Byleth’s nightmares, Byleth swore to never speak or think about the past ever again. Even if it meant forgetting her friends and family.

It was a success, the nightmares lessened until she could sleep like a baby. Any events before and relating to The Calamity were steadily pushed further back into the depths of her mind. Before she knew it, she became a Botanist Master, head of the Botanist guild, and living her new life.

Her role as one of the Warriors of Light would forever be lost in history.

And she wanted it to stay that way.

[-----]

“Master Eisner, you have a visitor!” one of her students, Annette, called in the background.

Byleth, adorned with an attire fit for a farmer, straightened her posture, her bare, wet hands having harvested the plants. With the sun beating down on her back, she deposited the fresh greens into the basket, and wiped the sweat off her forehead as she carefully treads through the moist plantation.

Annette provided a clean towel to her mentor upon arrival. Byleth motioned thanks to the youngster before patting her scarred hands dry, her navy hues locked to their three guests.

They were clearly adventurers… and new ones at that.

A Thaumaturge, a Marauder, and a Conjurer.

Her eyes fell upon their get-up. The equipment they had was rustic and had seen better days. Byleth stifled a grumble. Do all guilds provide their new members weathered weapons? She could not recall a time when she ever had a sword or katana in such a sorry state. Then again, times are a-changing. Old mentors of guilds were replaced with newer ones. Catherine and Shamir were fitting examples, respectively teaching and guiding Gladiators and Archers.

“So, what is it that you need from me?” she asked.

Out of the newcomers, the shortest one of the three stepped up. “I would like to become a Botanist.” She placed a hand on her chest with a smile. “Master Eisner, I want you to teach me.” When the Marauder noticed Byleth eyeing her comrades, she shook her head. “Don’t mind them. It’s just me that wants to join your guild.”

Byleth tried not to sigh. She had half-expected the trio to be here for minor tasks. Adventurers always came and went to help the Botanist out with her duties. When she could not traverse the rough terrains, they did so diligently, but with a small price. Some even became full-time students like Annette. Others became part-time students, their mind set into stone with other guilds. This youngster most likely came as the latter. Byleth crossed her arms.

“Tell me, what do you hope to achieve in this profession?”

The white-haired responds, “I want to be able to distinguish what’s appropriate to gather and harvest in the wild.” She motioned to her friends. “If we’re going to travel and find work, I want us to be able to survive out in the wild, at the very least.”

“I see.” Byleth nods. “As an adventurer, you will be out in the wild more than an average civilian. Your reasoning is sound.” She extended a hand towards the Marauder. “I will teach not only what you need to know for the field, but the importance of maintaining a symbiotic relationship with Eorzea’s plants.” When her hand was shaken, she asked, “And who do I have the honor of teaching?”

“Forgive me for not telling you my name,” the female’s cheeks slightly pinkened. “I am Edelgard von Hresvelg.” She glanced over her shoulder at her teammates. “The Thaumaturge is Hubert von Vestra and the Conjurer is Mercedes von Martritz.”

They both bowed to Byleth.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Eisner,” Mercedes clasped her hands together once she straightened her posture, her head tilted to the side with a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Yes, you seem to have a wonderful reputation here in Gridania,” Hubert added. “Everyone says you’re reliable.”

Byleth chuckled. “Their expectation must be dangerously low. All I’ve been doing is harvesting and logging for the community.”

“But the head of the Seedseer Council said you’ve done many great things for Eorzea.”

“She must have been exaggerating.”

Their conversation came to a closure, though rather abrupt. Byleth made a scheduled meeting would follow up the next day for Edelgard, but only after Byleth had spoken to Kan-E-Senna.

The secrecy of her past life as both a survivor of the Sixth Umbra Era and Warrior of Light must remain behind closed doors.

“It’s painful,” she admits to Kan-E. “Hearing that title or my accomplishments only reminds me of him.”

Kan-E could not find the words to comfort Byleth. And that was okay. Byleth didn’t need it.

[-----]

The days that followed afterward were that of varying tasks Edelgard must take up. Byleth had offered her new equipment and tools to get started. Logging, harvesting, gathering, and learning how to identify items in the wilderness were taught at a steady pace.

“You have a knack for this,” Byleth complimented. Under the relentless sun, Edelgard wiped the sweat from her brows and leaned her hatchet against the tree trunk. A large volume of chopped woods settled nearby, its usage exclusively for Gridania’s winter preparation. Annette, Marianne, Hubert, and Mercedes offered to take them to the town’s square. From there, Shamir and her guild would evenly divide and deliver the firewood for their citizens. The teal-haired ruffled her student’s hair. “It hasn’t even been a week, but you’ve mastered the basics of gathering and tending. Today, you’ve done well with timbering.”

Edelgard managed a smile. “Only because you’re my teacher,” she said, swatting Byleth’s hand.

“You jest.”

“She’s right, you know,” Annette hollered in the background. A red mark pulsating on her head, Byleth bent down, grabbed a small rock, playfully tossed it into the air, and swung it at the speaker. The air whistled and Annette yelped. It was going to hit her, and it was going to hurt. Badly. Byleth clicked her tongue when Annette avoided her throw. “What do you think you’re doing, Master!?” she shouted. “Are you trying to kill me!?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe!? What’s wrong with you?”

“Stop embarrassing me in front of my student then.”

“I’m your student too, you know!”

Edelgard could hardly contain her laughter. But it was one of the biggest mistakes she’s made in her life. Byleth crossed her arms and glared at Edelgard.

“I hope you’re ready to be out on the field. You’re getting some Tree Toads for me.”

“…How many?” She instantly regrets asking. A sly smile bloomed on Byleth’s face. Hearing the numbers caused her knees to buck. Edelgard’s features paled as she exclaimed, “100?!”

This is an impossible feat! Hadn’t she already done enough for the day?

“It’s all a part of your training. This will also teach you the delicate balance of nature. Overpopulation is a major issue here in The Black Shroud, after all.” Byleth pats her shoulders. “Also, please make sure they are alive. I need to deliver them to Flayn.”

“…you’re lucky that I like you.”

“Did you say something?”

“N-Nothing, Master Eisner.”

Edelgard hung her head and dragged her scythe, hatchet, basket, and net outside of the premise.

Hubert and Mercedes watched from afar, a crate of chopped woods at hand. “I can only hope milady can stop provoking Master Eisner…” he sighed.

The blonde magus giggled. “I think she might be having fun.”

“Our definition of ‘having fun’ is different, I’m afraid.”

“Speaking of that, when do you think Edelgard will ask Master Eisner out?”

“Wha— Why are you bringing up a silly matter like that?” he scowled. “I’m returning to my duty!”

“But this is the last—”

“And so should you!”

Mercedes watched Hubert storm off, leaving her alone. Annette emerged in his place, her hands behind her back. She softly hummed. “That’s something you don’t see every day.” Mercedes chuckled. “I agree.”

[-----]

Days marched to weeks, and weeks marched to months, and months marched to a year. Edelgard no longer was a Marauder, but a Warrior. By that time, training began to move from location to location appropriate for her student, the environmental conditions becoming harsher.

Unlike her students like Annette and Marianne, Edelgard made a commitment to perform various other tasks at hand for Eorzea. Hearing of her student’s adventures with Hubert and Mercedes reminds Byleth of her own. Each story told was like hearing from her own memories. The achievements, the accomplishments, the heroic deeds they were known for… It was like looking at a mirror. She smiled awkwardly. Edelgard’s tales were full of optimism and pride. Byleth’s was the complete opposite.

Eventually, the days they’ve spent together must come to an end. Edelgard would have to graduate from her Botanist guild. It was bittersweet, but a farewell was soon in place.

They were now seen in Coerthas Western Highlands. A thick, brown overcoat covered their bodies as the four stood over the café’s table, a crinkled map rolled out.

“Your final task is to find this,” Byleth tapped on the booklet with a sketch of a Rainbow Cotton Boll. “However, due to the nature of this assignment, I will allow you to have your allies with you.”

The Warrior looked up. “What about you?”

“I will also come.” Byleth adjusted her overcoat and smiled. “I wouldn’t want to miss my final moments with one of my students.”

“Only because I’m your student?”

Byleth deadpan stared at Edelgard. “Yes.” Edelgard lightly scratched her discolored cheek and looked elsewhere. “I had expected more, but if you say so, Master Eisner.”

Oh… Oh, it was swinging in that direction.

“Don’t push your luck, young lady. I’m not going to pass you just because of our relationship.”

“That’s not what I’m implying— Oh, nevermind, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Then make me understand.”

“…remind me why I chose you over my suitors again?”

In the background, Hubert and Mercedes exchanged looks. They shrugged their shoulders. It was always like this between the two women. Byleth and Edelgard were entranced and intoxicated with each other’s presence since the day they’ve met, their banters nonstop. It had only worsened since the day they began dating last month.

Hubert sighed. “Can we go now? Let’s not waste any time.”

The party eventually exited the bar. Cold air tickled their nose, snow gently falling upon their figures. Their metallic and leather boots crunched the white plain as they traversed to their destinations.

Yet somewhere along the way, they had taken a detour.

Byleth felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of her face. They were far from their destination. Very far. Edelgard, Hubert, and Mercedes were enticed by their curiosity, and so they chased after it. Far north from their assigned areas, the four marched into The Steel Vigil.

‘ I don’t like where this is going… ‘

Call it instinct, Byleth could not soothe the butterflies in her stomach. Their White Mage ran up to what remains of the watchtowers. She traced the uneven concrete slabs of the outer walls, the majority of its content destroyed by the Dravanian Horde.

Edelgard dropped her hatchet and scythe. In lieu, the Warrior reached for the large axe behind her back and dashed past Mercedes. A gust of wind blew against her party members, forcing their arms up, as she bellowed. In conjunction, the dragon screeched, hurting their eardrums. Edelgard breathed deeply and tore her weapon from the massive black creature. Crimson trail slithered down its scale as it screeched once again.

Almost half as tall as the watchtower, they were mere insects to the magnificent beast.

“I knew this was a bad idea!” Byleth took a step forward. She paused, placing a hand on her side, a dull ache resonating.

Was she able to participate in this battle?

It matters not for now. Mercedes and Hubert immediately jumped in front of Byleth. Their hoodies were blown off, electricity crackling from Hubert’s fingertips.

“Thunder!”

He threw his hand out and lightning shot from his palm. Edelgard bounced back just in time for the spell to slam into the dragon. It howled and stumbled backward.

However, the dragon reeled its head back, an orange glow beginning to emit from its throat. The color brightened drastically as it neared its mouth. Edelgard’s eyes widened. It was aiming at Hubert, Mercedes, and Byleth. She ran until she was on the opposite side of her comrades, charged at the creature, and too reeled her arms back. The young woman leaped high into the air. Edelgard focused on the creature’s scaly neck. A battle cry chortled from her throat once her axe swung at full force.

It diverted its attention, but the energy it gathered could not dissipate. A fiery beam shot out of its mouth. Edelgard had to summon her strength to brace for the impact. She gritted her teeth as her overcoat burnt away, the thick armors cracking under the pressure. By the time the dragon was done, Edelgard was still left standing. Breathing heavily, the Warrior crumbled to her knee, the axe used as support.

Mercedes hastily cast healing spells to Edelgard as Hubert continued to send Thunder in its direction. But the dragon stared at the four, their presence so miniature compared to its destructive powers.

“We should make a strategic retreat!” Mercedes beckoned. She swung her staff as another Cure was directed to their injured comrade. “We might outrun it!”

“Are you sure about that?” Hubert asked. Flames danced around his wrist, fire shooting from his hand at the powerful dragon. Despite his attempts, the monster shook off any ill effect. The Black Mage cursed under his breath. “This dragon will chase us until one of us admits defeat!”

Edelgard grimaced. When the dragon focused its attention on her comrades once more, the female dragged her axe on the white ground, running to it.

“Pay attention to me!”

Another smash was delivered. Sure enough, she had the huge creature’s undivided attention. Its claws slammed on the ground, shaking their balance. Edelgard rolled out of the way with each attempt and knelt on one knee. This dance composed of dodging and striking at the dragon continued for some time. Hubert and Mercedes also continued their support, the Black Mage casting offensive magic and the White Mage casting shrouds of healing spells.

Byleth was the odd one out.

She watched the adventurers beat down the dragon bit by bit. The Botanist bit her lip. At that instant, the dragon roared, spread its wings, and flapped them. Strong gusts knocked everyone but Byleth off their feet, their bodies sinking into the snow.

Compared to Edelgard and Hubert, Mercedes was unfortunate, the beast slamming its hand into her. Mercedes felt its claw dig into her innards, the healer screaming. Red colored her vision as the creature raised its bloodied limb. Then, it struck again. Again. And again. Dread gripped their souls as Mercedes’s squeals of pain pierced the sky.

“MERCEDES!”

Edelgard scrambled to her feet, but her knees gave way, face greeting the chilly ground. Hubert combined Thunder, Fire, and even Blizzard, but it had done little to the fearsome foe. The dragon was squarely in control of the situation.

Were their efforts from earlier fruitless?

The sound of snow crunching perked the two’s ears.

“B-Byleth?” Edelgard hoarsely whispered once she raised her head. The white-haired watched her mentor slowly approach the dragon. Since the day they have met, Edelgard had never seen Byleth engage in a fight. Seeing her older girlfriend face the dragon without a weapon was suicidal. She shook her head and tried to crawl. “Byleth! Don’t do this!”

Edelgard’s outcry caught the dragon’s attention. The creature kept its hold on the White Mage, its bleeding blue eyes staring at the Warrior. Then, it turned to the last standing person, its claws finally removed. Mercedes weakly gasped as it marched towards Byleth. Hubert hurried to her side to tend her wounds. Buffs of hot breath escaped its nostrils once it stopped before the Botanist. It gave a thunderous roar, knocking back her hood. Byleth frowned and held its blue eyes, weighing its gaze.

The dragon made no hesitation to blow hot blue flames at the teal-haired woman. Edelgard screamed.

“BYLETH!”

The flames had eaten the thick overcoat, but left the pristine, red robe underneath unscathed. A glimmer pierced the raging vortex. Byleth swept the fire, clearing her position, with a katana at hand. Edelgard’s heart pounded. Her girlfriend was standing in the middle of the blue flames, unharmed and armed. The roles were now reversed.

“Looks like I can’t run away forever.”

Byleth ignored the strong aches that reside from her years-old injury. She adjusted her stance. The dragon flapped its wings, producing more wind, fluttering her robe. They glared at each other, a period of silence hanging in the still air.

Then, the enemy reacted.

It breathed more blue flames. Byleth sidestepped and rushed head-first to the creature. She swiped and flickered the katana, its blade creating lacerations in its wake. It screeched from the top of its lungs. Its claws reached out for her, but she parried and dodged it with ease. Byleth kept the momentum up, driving the dragon backward, persistent with lightning strikes.

“Getsu.”

She angled her katana into a crescent shape, a faint illusion of the moon drawn from her blade.

“Setsu.”

Solid icicles burst from the dragon’s fresh cut, freezing its innards.

“Ka.”

Cherry blossoms scattered from her katana and danced around Byleth as she slashed in a flurry.

The dragon snarled. It reached out to grab Byleth once she regained her composure. Byleth sidestepped once more, but winced, a sharp stab to her side. She staggered and the beast easily pulled her into its grip. She gasped as it tightened. Then, it flew into the air. They disappeared into the snowing clouds above the adventurers’ head.

Seconds ticked by, yet there is no sign of return.

Edelgard got to her feet, stumbling in the process. “W-What’s going to happen to Byleth?” She propped herself upright with her axe. “Am I going to lose someone I love again?”

Those words stung. Hubert cursed as he sprinkled more potion on Mercedes’s crimson gash. “She will survive, milady!” His stained hands continued to apply first-aid to the mangled flesh exposed in this rigid environment. Sweat slid over his brows as the Black Mage said, “Have faith in her!”

“Should I be concerned that it’s coming from your mouth?”

“Milady, if you have the time to tease,” a katana stabbed between the two from above. “I suggest you help Master Eisner.”

Just as he predicted, the clouds had dispersed, leaving the center empty. A black blur flew down. The dragon twisted in the air as it descended, tossing Byleth to the side. She smashed into the outer wall, debris and smoke filling the area. Once it dissipated, Byleth groaned, laying still in the rubble.

“Byleth!” Edelgard rushed to her side. Snow kicked up in front of her. She skidded to a stop and took a step back. Looking up, she saw the dragon in her path, rosy fluids dribbling from its mouth. It roared, but weakly, at the Warrior. She grimaced and raised her axe. She had to keep the dragon’s attention off Byleth.

Edelgard roared, swinging her axe. “I’ll be your opponent!”

Amidst the crumbled structure, Byleth struggled through her swimming vision. The impact had cut her scalp, drawing blood that trickled between her eyes. Byleth slowly rolled onto the snow. She hissed as needle-like sensations relentlessly jabbed into her side.

Byleth reached for the item pouch around her waist. A shaky hand retrieved one Hi-Potion. The substance poured into her mouth, its potency quelling the pain. Byleth flung the empty glass bottle aside. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and rose. Hubert, who now carried an unconscious Mercedes, ran to the Samurai.

“Here!” he tossed. Byleth’s outstretched hand caught her weapon. She nodded. “Thanks.”

She turned her attention to the dragon and Edelgard. Byleth’s brows furrowed.

“Edelgard!” she said. “Bring it closer to me!”

“Byleth, wha— you’re okay!?”

The white-haired female nearly bit her tongue, ducking from a swipe. Edelgard straightened her posture and shot a glance. Byleth began to kneel, her hands resting on the sheathed katana, staring at the beast. There was a pause. Then, Edelgard nodded. The axe in her grip tightened and spun. Both the creature and Edelgard roared in synchronization as they raced to land the first strike.

A burst of flames and lightning sprouted upon the dragon. Hubert had released his hold on the injured Mercedes. Decorated staff in one hand, he grunted and unleashed a torrential of magic onto the field, its destruction rivaling that of the beast.

The adventurers and Byleth felt invigorations mere seconds later. Mercedes leaned against what’s left of the outer wall, her white magic going into effect. Edelgard was granted silent permission to recklessly throw herself into the enemy, ramming her heavy axe.

They were slowly inched closer to Byleth. Soon, the dragon shook the ground with its roar, reeling its head back. The same orange light started to emit from its throat. Sweat slid down her face. With the wall, Hubert, and Mercedes behind her, she was trapped, Edelgard stalling for the final blow. Byleth drew her lips to a line.

It was only a matter of time until they were blasted into oblivion.

Byleth slowed her breathing, her knuckles whitening. Three components of Iaijutsu had activated previously in battle. She exhaled. A calm wave washed over her, Byleth narrowing her eyes. The instant Edelgard smashed her axe onto its belly, Byleth pivoting on her heel.

NOW!

Byleth sped through the dragon. Not even a second passed and she stood on the other side of it, her katana flicked out.

Silence.

Then, blood spewed from the dragon.

It screeched and thrashed as the bright light from its neck disappeared. Hubert, Mercedes, and Edelgard hopped back as its tail swished. Byleth remained still, the rampage narrowly missing her. She twirled the katana at hand. When she sheathed it, the dragon collapsed, the surrounding snow painted in a ruby splatter.

“…”

Byleth’s tense shoulders eased, her head lowered.

It was over.

The Samurai was immediately greeted with a crushing hug from behind, Edelgard’s face nestled into her shoulder. “I’m so glad we’ve defeated the dragon,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine what would happen if we didn’t…” Byleth turned to face Edelgard in her embrace, her smile soon strained as the Warrior frowned. “Though I have questions for you. A lot.”

As Edelgard wiped off the blood from the older female’s face with a singed handkerchief, Byleth said, “I will answer them all once we’ve headed to safety.”

She and Hubert would then whistle, two yellow birds coming just as quickly as they were called. Sothis tilted her head and cooed softly once Byleth and Edelgard sat on her back. As for Hubert and Mercedes, he took the rein for her chocobo, Pom Pom (clearly named after Annette’s suggestion), He offered to head to the nearby town first as their White Mage required medical attention.

They hurried off. Both Byleth and Edelgard would shortly follow after them, albeit at a slower pace.

Byleth blinked. She was seeing doubles. Another blink and a shake of her head.

“Byleth?” Edelgard touched her on the arm. “Are you feeling alright?”

She went limp in response. Edelgard muffled a grunt and caught her girlfriend from falling off their mount. Despite the everlasting winter environment, Byleth felt cold to the touch. Colder than ice.

“No, this cannot be happening!”

The Warrior took the rein from behind and, after adjusting the taller female to rest on Sothis, sprinted into the snowy town.

The chocobo squawked and leaped off a high cliff. Edelgard leaned forward, almost hugging the unconscious Samurai. Sothis squealed when a jolt of pain traveled up her legs. However, she continued running as fast as she could. Her owner was in danger! Edelgard bit her lip as they neared Camp Dragonhead.

“Don’t you dare die on me!”

Their arrival startled many. Blood splattered their attire, bruises and patches of peeling, hot red skin had many citizens turn away. Guards from Camp Dragonhead approached the four warriors.

The interrogations did not last long.

Mercedes and Byleth were transported to the premise’s medical facility in a hurry. Doctors and nurses brought them into surgery while nearby White Mages offered to heal Hubert and Edelgard. The two sat outside of the operating room. Hubert crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling. Edelgard buried her face into her palms, not a peep heard from the tank.

“They will be okay,” Hubert rested a hand on her back, his eyes soft. “I believe in them.”

“Are you sure…?” Edelgard raised her head, her bandages wet from the tears. Her lips quivered as she asked, “They will not meet the same fate as my brothers and sisters, right?”

He nodded. Then, he pulled his childhood friend close. Resting his chin on her head and rubbing her back, he whispered, “El, they will never leave your side. I promise you that.” Hubert knew of the loss Edelgard sustained as a child. The false promises of becoming the next emperor of new territory in Eorzea, the Adrestian Empire. Surviving the assassination that took the lives of her parents and siblings. Fending for herself in Limsa Lominsa. Reuniting with Hubert in Ul’dah and becoming friends with Mercedes in Gridania. She had gone through so much.

Hubert tucked a stray strand of white hair behind her ear. He stared at her face, then smoothed her head, almost as if he were her older brother.

“You shouldn’t have to suffer like this.”

The two eventually fell asleep sitting up, waiting for the return of their comrades.

[-----]

One week later…

“Are you still here to ask me questions?”

“Yes.”

“Persistent, aren’t you?”

Edelgard shrugged, peeling the apple’s skin with a knife. Byleth huffed in her bed. Resting in a shared recovery room with Mercedes, the four were present with their own business. Hubert tended to Mercedes with news about the day. As for Edelgard, well, it was self-explanatory.

“I don’t understand why you aren’t willing to open up about your past with me.”

“I… just need some time.”

“Time?” she raised a brow, hands still occupied with the fruit. “How long?”

“Until I feel the time is right.”

“Pfft. That’s going to take forever.”

The Samurai’s hands balled into fists. Though it is a jest, it has some truth behind it. The weight of her past continues to chain Byleth down. If anything, just as she confessed to Kan-E, Byleth wants to stay as far away as possible from her past title and occupation. Surging memories of Jeralt was inevitable, and she shuddered, her heart beating fast.

“…perhaps I should ask you something...” Edelgard raised her head, the peeled apple placed on a plate, all ears on her. Byleth’s navy hues wandered elsewhere, her thumbs tapping and toying with one another. She jolted from feeling her girlfriend’s warmth. Edelgard enveloped her hand with hers, lilac eyes staring into the Samurai’s. Byleth dryly swallowed. “What if… What if I’m afraid to talk about it?”

“Afraid?”

She nods. “Let’s start from the beginning. You’ve heard of stories about the Seventh Umbral Calamity, right?” When her student and allies admit, she continued, drawing in a deep breath. “Then, you must’ve heard rumors about those called the Warriors of Light.”

“Bits and pieces. Always thought they were nothing more than a made-up story about Eorzean heroes. Why do you ask?”

“If I were to tell you that I was once labeled as one, would you believe in me?”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. Louisoix called me one when I first met him.” Byleth recalled her meeting with the old man. Still a budding sprout, the Gladiator and Jeralt were invited to speak with the key figure. Feats they’ve achieved for the sake of Eorzea went unnoticed. It was likely they would talk about them. However, Louisoix had said very little. Instead, he motioned his aged hand to the two, a smile blooming. “…and that was when he called me and father the Warriors of Light.”

Mercedes, opposite of her bed, clasped her hands and wondered, “Oh, Master Eisner, so the reputations from the Grand Companies were not untrue then! To think that I would meet one in-person.” The blonde grinned. “Helping others, upholding justice, and doing what is good for Eorzea… You must’ve accomplished so much in your life.”

“Yet I’ve lost so much too.” Mercedes’s features drooped, Byleth staring at Edelgard’s hand. “If anything, I wished I wasn’t the Warrior of Light.”

A chill slithered down her spine. Byleth slowly opened about the moments during the Calamity. Rocks turned to ashes from the intense heat, flames spreading throughout the battlefield. The Garlean Empire unleashed mighty magiteks, weapons, and soldiers on the dreadful landscape. And Byleth was there in the frontline, acting as the Paladin. All f their efforts to stop the empire and Bahamut… In the end, she was the lone survivor from her father’s mercenary guild.

“I remembered,” Mercedes said. The others looked at her. She cast her sight to the floor. “Although I was not at the frontline, I witnessed Dalamud approaching our planet from the church.” True to her words, before she was a White Mage and a Conjurer at Gridania, Mercedes was raised and served at the Church of Saint Adama Landama in Thanalan. When tragedy struck, she could only offer prayers for the lives that were lost and hope to repel the enormous dragon. “I could only imagine how much you’ve suffered.”

Edelgard rubbed Byleth’s arm. “You’ve done so much for Eorzea…” she bitterly smiled. “You were out there, protecting us… You’ve saved us all.”

Hubert, though, crossed his arms. “If you so claim that you are the Warrior of Light, then why did you hide that vital piece of information from everyone, especially from us?” The Black Mage frowned. “Why did you pretend to be a Botanist?”

“I…” Byleth’s heart squeezed. She placed a hand over her chest, the wounded Samurai shakily exhaling. “I was a coward.” A pause. “I still am.”

The past was always haunting her. Its shadows prickled the back of her neck, darkness looming over the survivor. Byleth rubbed her arm. “I’m afraid of the ghost of my past— My dead comrades, my dead father, and the Calamity.” The rubbing intensified. “Hearing that title reminds me of them. I would rather live my life in peace, forgetting about it all.”

Though sympathy was gained by the ladies, Hubert thought otherwise. He got up from the wooden stool, marched up to the teal-haired, and shook her shoulders.

“Get a grip, Byleth!” he yelled. “To live like this is no better than to die!”

“Hubert—”

When Edelgard too stood up, he shook his head.

“Milady, forgive me, but I cannot stay silent.”

He placed a hand on his chest, glaring into Byleth’s navy eyes. “I too have a past I wish to never remember. Everyone does.” He swept his arm to Mercedes and Edelgard. “They have a past they wish to make amends with. To change the course of history for a better outcome. However, we only have today and tomorrow.” Hubert tightened his grip. “If you are to continue acting this way, then it’s no wonder why you’ve abandoned your duty as the Warrior of Light.”

“I’m sure there are others that would carry the future of Eorzea—”

“But you are here right now!”

“I am unable to fight at full strength. You saw how I collapsed after the battle last week. It’s impossible to return to duty as I’ve had when I was by myself.”

“We are here for you! Did you seriously forget that we are also your comrades?” The older male released her, still scowling. “I’m sorry, but I cannot deal with a person who wishes to waste their potential on a meaningless life.”

“Isn’t she the Botanist guild master though?” Mercedes quipped.

“That is not enough for someone with her capability.” He turned his back to the Samurai, walking to the exit. “I don’t even think she’s worthy of being Edelgard’s woman.” The door then slammed from behind.

Edelgard scratched her cheek. “I’ve never seen Hubert so angry before.” She glanced at her girlfriend. Hand still on Byleth’s, she gave another squeeze, leaning in. “I want to let you know that, unlike Hubert, whatever you choose to do with your life… I will support you.” The Warrior captured Byleth’s lips. “Don’t you worry about protecting anyone,” she said after parting. Getting up from her stool, Edelgard gave another kiss, this time on the head. “You’ve protected us once during the Calamity, and you’ve protected us a week ago with the dragon. I think you deserve to rest.”

“El…”

Compared to her male companion, Edelgard was gentle. Yet the two of them had a point, their arguments well-supported.

Her lover waved farewell for the evening, visiting hours over, and returned to the inn for the night. That left Byleth with Mercedes. She looked to the White Mage.

“I’m not even sure what to decide anymore.”

“Hm…” Mercedes cupped her chin. “This is a difficult choice to make. But I know that so long as you remain true to yourself, then you’ve made the right decision.” She settled into her blanket, the nurses coming in to dim the candles. “Have you ever thought of becoming an adventurer again?”

“Sometimes,” she answered truthfully.

Mercedes hummed again. “Then you’re being chained to the past. Though, knowing you, I know you’ll reach an answer before we fully recover.”

“What if I can’t?”

“I think that’s too soon to say.”

The rest of the night, they slept in silence. Mercedes did, at least. Byleth found herself staring up at the ceiling, her gauzed hands resting over her stomach. Her thumbs casually tapped at an even, rhythmic interval.

What is it that she truly desired?

She sighed. It was time for some self-reflection.

[-----]

Another week crawled by in Camp Dragonhead. During the days she and Mercedes were out of commission, Edelgard and Hubert traveled around Coerthas Central Highlands. Small quests and duties with other party members were tackled, the latest task partnering them with Ingrid Brandl Galatea and Dorothea Arnault, respectively a Dragoon and Scholar.

Was this busywork? To keep their minds off about Byleth’s true identity? Or did they use this chance to make new relationships and make some spare gils on the side?

Whatever it was, it matters not, the time for their friends’ discharge finally here. Mercedes had left first, leaving Byleth alone. Or so she thought she was alone.

“Congratulation on your discharge, Master Eisner!” Annette and Marianne, who had traveled from Gridania, greeted Byleth, a bouquet of scarlet carnations offered. “Just wanted to stop by here and make sure you’re still kicking.”

“I-It would be… terrible if you were to die…” Marianne fidgeted.

Annette laughed in response, slapping her colleague’s back, hard. “It would be terrible, huh! But I’m glad she’s still here with us.” Marianne yelped and tried to swat her friend’s hand. “Can you… please not do that?”

“Oh, you’re no fun!”

Seeing their cheery selves caused Byleth to smile. Then, she stood up from her mattress, walking to the closet. Folded neatly was her decorated red robe. Nearby, her katana stared at its owner, begging for usage. Byleth glanced over her shoulder. Annette and Marianne were still in the room. She dryly swallowed, the Samurai’s fingers delicately rubbing the silky material.

“Annette, Marianne, I have something to tell you both.”

“Hm? What’s up?” Annette said. “Are there materials you want us to harvest or gather for you?”

Byleth shook her head. “That’s not it. I’m actually thinking about putting you both as the new masters for the Botanist guild.”

“…I heard wrong, did I?”

When Byleth shook her head, Marianne felt a rising dread from her chest, as Annette wondered, “Is there a reason as to why you want to make us the new guildmasters?”

An answer was already in preparation for a question like this. Soon, Annette and Marianne’s eyes sparkled, shaking the Samurai’s hands.

“I wish you the best of luck, Master Eisner,” Annette said, a tinge of sadness hinted. “We’re going to miss you.”

“It… It was fun studying under you,” Marianne added with a smile.

"I might stop by, so don't slack off."

The two shuddered, Marianne especially. She trembled in her boots, her fingers still tasting the slimy toads years prior.

Soon, the three left together. Both Marianne and Annette departed back to Gridania. As for Byleth, the mentor approached the three-man group she had seen so often. Edelgard, Hubert, and Mercedes waiting for her return.

“Glad to see you’re doing better, Byleth,” Edelgard said. “There aren’t any complications that we need to know of, right…?”

“Other than my damaged side from six years ago, no.”

“I see,” Hubert crossed his arms. “Have you thought about your future?”

Jumping right to the gun. Hubert was not the kind of person to be dilly-dallying. Byleth shrugged her shoulders, causing his furrowed brows to deepen. However, she said, “If I were by myself, no. But with you all… I believe I can follow my heart’s true desire.” The mentor laughed. “After some self-reflection, I’ve come to terms that I want to become an adventurer once again.”

“But what about your trauma?”

It's not easy getting over the past. Still... Byleth took Edelgard’s hands and squeezed them. “I’m okay. So long as I have you, I… I won’t be afraid anymore. I’ll try to, I promise.” She looked to the Black and White Mage. “I hope you have room for an additional member of your party.”

“We always have room for one more,” Mercedes giggled. “We actually need someone of your expertise to form a perfectly balanced group.”

“Glad there’s a spot waiting for me to fill.”

Hubert quietly nodded in the background, satisfied with her answer.

Edelgard rushed into her lover’s arms, pressing her face against her breasts. She closed her eyes, whispering, “I’m glad you decided to travel with us, my love.”

"Me too." Byleth kissed the top of her head. “It’s good to be back in business.”

This time, with new comrades, the ghost of her dead allies only able to watch from afar.

Soon, Eorzea will hear of the news that the Warrior of Light has made her return. Accomplishments of her past are soon forgotten in place of newer ones. Impossible assignments that would turn anyone’s tail around were deliverable. The tales of Byleth Eisner stretched far and wide, her reputation spiking. However, the Grand Companies pointed out her closely knitted party, the three on equal standing with the teal-haired female.

“Are you thinking of what I’m thinking?” Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn, leading the Grand Company of Limsa Lominsa, remarked during a meeting with the other two Grand Companies.

Raubahn from Ul’dah chuckled. “I’m not surprised. That kid managed to find a band of warriors that share the same motivation as her.”

“And they’re always together too,” Kan-E added. “They continue to forge a powerful bond that rivals many alliance leaders of the past.”

“You don’t say,” Merlwyb tapped her finger on the wooden table. “I say that they remind me of Byleth— No, that isn’t right. What I meant to say is how they share similarities to the heroes of the past.” She leaned forward, a grin breaking out. “Could they be the new Warriors of Light?”

And it turns out, Byleth, Edelgard, Hubert, and Mercedes would become just that: the Warriors of Light.

[sheirukitriesfandom]

The Ghosts Of Home

Second ff? I guess. It’s a short thingie I wrote during a seven hour seminar because I had forgotten my art supplies. 

Rashkan (my vampire/necromancer OC) returns to his family home on Solstheim to make peace with his family that he left 50 years ago without saying a word. I didn’t polish this to be honest, so read at your own risk. Also, yay for cheesy song title-titles :P

When he left Raven Rock, he could already see the tiny house in the distance. The fence around the small garden patch had fallen over, the front door barely clung to its designated spot and the paint had long since peeled off the walls; if it had not been for some sorry ash yams that had been planted in the grey soil and the smoke coming out of the chimney as well as some holes in the roof, Rashkan could have sworn the house was deserted.

He took a deep breath, swallowed the lump in his throat and knocked, hoping the door would not fall out of its hinges.

Nothing happened. He waited for a short while, then turned to leave. Just as he had taken a couple of steps back towards Raven Rock, he heard the door open with a loud, wail.

“You?”

Rashkan froze. A sense of dread filled him and, had he been mortal, Rashkan was sure his heart would be bursting right out of his chest. When he finally managed to turn around, he saw his brother standing in the doorway. He was leaning on a crutch, his clothes looked ragged and were patched with mismatched fabric in numerous places. His greying, barely tamed hair ran just over his shoulders; years of trouble were etched into his forehead, and yet, the lines at the corners of his eyes told tales of laughter.

“Dralas- Rashkan began.

“What do you want?”, He snapped.

“Dralas… may I come in?”, Rashkan asked. His brother’s sandals suddenly became incredibly fascinating.

“No, you may not. If mother sees you it might break her poor old heart. You should have seen her after you left. Dad and I almost had to force her to eat. You should be glad it’s me who opened the door, and not him. He would’ve chased you away by now.”

“Speaking of father, what is he doing, now that the mines are closed?”

“Fixes things around town; right now, he’s helping Geldis set up a new distillery. It’s not much, but we have to make do now, don’t we?”

If he were not undead already, Dralas’ stare would have killed him right then and there.

Rashkan sighed:” I’ve come to apologise. And I know you want nothing to do with me anymore, but please let us talk. I live quite comfortably in Winterhold; I have money – enough to at least fix the roof. I am sure we can start anew.”

Rashkan watched as Dralas’ expression turned from angry to pensive and back again.

“Listen Rashkan, I’m sorry but you’re fifty years too late. We managed to survive all this time while you were comfortably sitting on your ass doing your little magic tricks. I sincerely hope it was worth it. In any way, we don’t need your newfound benevolence.”

“Dralas!”, a woman’s voice, gravelly and hoarse, called from within the house.

“A moment!”, Dralas called back.

“Don’t you dare follow me inside!”, Dralas threatened.

Before Rashkan could say anything, he had vanished behind the door.

Despite his better judgement, Rashkan cast a muffle spell on himself, pushed the door open barely enough to slip inside and did just that. The house was sparsely furnished; a bedroll lay in one corner of the room, while in the other a bucket was placed under one of the larger holes in the roof. The fireplace was filled with embers, but it did little to warm even the small room.

To his left, Rashkan found the entrance to his parents’ bedchamber. A tattered, dirt-spotted curtain served as a door. Rashkan peeked through one of the holes. His mother lay in bed, her long hair spread across the pillow in pathetic wisps. Her face was gaunt, almost skeletal and her bony arms hung limb at her sides. In the back of the room Dralas was preparing a glass of water.

“I heard you talking to someone. Was it about the money?”, she croaked.

“Yes, Mogrul again”, he answered as he brought the water to his mother’s bedside. He carefully took her head in his arms and brought the water to her lips.

“I hope Geldis pays today. That would give us some more room to breathe.”

Rashkan watched as his mother eagerly drank the water. When she was done Dralas took a rag from the nightstand and wiped her mouth clean.

“Tell Mogrul to wait until later this evening. Geldis usually pays on time.”

“Fine, I’ll do that. Is there anything else you need?”

“No. Go now, don’t keep Mogrul waiting. We can’t afford having Slitter at our backs again”

Dralas placed the empty glass on the nightstand, grabbed his crutch, and hobbled towards the curtain.

Rashkan looked around and found the door almost shut behind him. Too narrow for him to fit through. He had to react quickly. Bedroll. Chimney. Bucket. No place to hide! He panicked and without thinking, turned into a swarm of bats and raced out through the hole in the roof. Rashkan sincerely hoped that nobody saw him when he turned back into a dunmer, but the lack of screams calling for his death reassured him of the fact. Dralas appeared in the doorway not a second too soon and Rashkan tried his hardest to look as inconspicious as he could. Yes, those were some truly pathetic ash yams.

“Sorry for the wait”, Dralas slightly bowed his head.

“All is well”, assured Rashkan, his gaze still fixed on the yams. “As I said, I cannot change the past, but I can try making up for it. Please, allow me to atone. Allow me to help you get this place back into shape.”

Dralas took a few steps forward.

“Look at me”, he commanded. His gaze was cold and piercing.

“We don’t need your money, Rashkan. We don’t need your money and we don’t need you! I haven’t had a brother for 50 years and as far as I’m concerned, I don’t have one now.”

Rashkan wanted to answer, to say something – anything really, but the words got stuck in his throat and mingled with the rising bile. He clenched his fists and for the blink of an eye, he thought about punching Dralas straight in the nose. How could he possibly say something like that?!?

“Fine!”, spat Rashkan. “Then keep worrying about the next meal, keep the hole in your roof – I’m sure you’ll love the ash falling into your home-, and keep waiting for the next payment. I’m sure Mogrul will be most understanding.”

Dralas’ eyes widened. He was shaking. “Get lost”, he clenched his fist around his crutch until his knuckles turned white. Rashkan did not move.

“I said: Get lost!”, he screamed, raising his crutch to hit Rashkan - who effortlessly dodged the attack. Dralas crashed to the ground. Rashkan held out his hand to help his brother back on his feet but Dralas swatted it away.

“Go Rashkan. Just get lost”, he winced. His voice was quiet and Rashkan could have sworn that his tone betrayed a hint of sadness.

Rashkan closed his eyes and sighed.

“It was nice seeing you again”, he said, turned around and walked away. Back towards Raven Rock.

How could he?

Rashkan was fuming. He quickened his pace, his eyes fixed on the ground before him.

How dare he???

“Rashkan? Is that you?”

Rashkan stopped dead in his tracks. He glanced up… and into the eyes of a man he had not seen in 50 years. His face looked haggard and his sweaty grey hair clung to his forehead. His face was riddled with deep lines and creases. His eyes, however, -while tired- beamed with hope.

“I am sorry, but you are mistaken. I have never heard that name before”, he said flatly as he watched that hope die a slow, painful death.

Before his father could say anything, Rashkan had already turned around and hurried towards the harbour.

[purpleswans1]

Bakugo’s Testimony

The Villain Month prompt is Alternate Universe, which is basically what I’ve been writing this whole time. Meh. Enjoy!

Read also on FF and AO3

If Bakugo was being honest with himself, he should have done this a long time ago. As soon as he was released from the hospital after the USJ, he should have gone straight to a teacher or policeman. Hell, he should have flagged down somebody before the ambulance carted him away.

But he didn’t, and it was eating him up inside.

Oh sure, he had plenty of excuses lined up: he wanted to make sure he wasn’t mistaken, he wanted to know what led up to this point, he was paying respect to Auntie Inko’s feelings. It was all bullshit and he knew it.

Izuku Midoriya was one of the villains that attacked the USJ, and Bakugo was too ashamed to tell anyone.

Well, today he was going to fix that.

When the final bell rang to release them from class, Bakugo didn’t turn right at the door like he normally does. He turned left, ignored Shitty Hair’s questions about where he was going, and walked up to the teacher’s lounge. He should be able to find either Mr. Aizawa or All Might there, or at least another teacher that could tell him where to go.

When he opened the door, he saw not either of the teachers he was looking for but that show-off 3rd year that kept shadowing All Might.

“Oh hello!” Mirio Togata -- yeah, that was his name, don’t ask how Bakugou was able to remember that one -- said. “Are you looking for someone?”

The hell are you doing here? “Not that it’s any of your business, But I’m looking for All Might and Mr. Aizawa.”

Mirio looked nervous. “Oh, well Mr. Aizawa is probably grading papers somewhere. Have you tried his homeroom?”

“I’m in his homeroom, genius.”

A tall, sickly-looking, thin man in loose clothes walked in through the other door. “Sorry to keep you waiting, young Togata… Oh, hello young Bakugo! What are you doing here?”

Bakugo could have sworn he knew all the teachers, but he didn’t recognize this guy. “Who are…?”

Bakugo caught sight of the man’s eyes and froze. He knew those eyes; he’d spent most of his childhood idolizing a man with those eyes.

“All Might?” Bakugo asked.

The thin man -- All Might -- coughed into his hand. “What? I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb.” Bakugo said. “I’m not as stupid as the rest of this school.”

All Might sighed. “Yes, it’s me. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about my true form.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Bakugo shrugged. “It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve seen since I started going here.” My childhood friend coming back from the dead as a villain gets that honor.

“What did you want to talk to All Might about?” Mirio asked, breaking the tension surrounding the sudden reveal.

Bakugo scowled again. “It’s not something a nosey 3rd year needs to know.”

All Might sighed. “Young Togata, would you mind getting Aizawa? He’s likely in the office.”

Mirio looked at both All Might and Bakugo for a couple of seconds, then nodded and left the room.

All Might sat in one of the chairs. “What did you want to speak to me about, young Bakugo?”

Bakugo looked down at the floor. He’d told himself he was going to do this, but now the words just wouldn’t come. “It’s… about the USJ incident.”

“I… see.” All Might coughed once again. “If you’re disturbed by what you saw and experienced, I'm sure the school would be able to provide trained therapists...”

“I’m not weak,” Bakugo growled.

“There’s no shame in asking for help, especially for things like that.”

“I don’t need a shrink!” Bakugo shook his head. He was getting off topic. “I need to… Look, I recognized one of the villains.”

“Oh.” All Might put his hands in his lap. “Why didn’t you tell us or the police anything earlier?”

Bakugo rubbed his arm. The spot where Izuku had shot him was starting to ache, despite being mostly healed. “Things were chaotic that day, and then I was at the hospital… Look, I’m here telling you now. Isn’t that enough?”

“Yes, of course.” All Might nodded. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Well, it’s now or never. “Do you remember that villain with green hair? The one who shot me?”

“Yes. He came to watch my battle with the Nomu near the end. I noticed that he was extremely young, no older than you 1st years. From the way he was speaking to the others, it appeared to me that he was one of the leaders.”

“His real name is Izuku Midoriya, and everyone thought he died 8 years ago.”

All Might leaned forward. “Are you certain? How do you know this?”

“I recognized him,” Bakugo explained. “He kept calling me by my childhood nickname, and after I saw his face and called him by his own nickname he all but confirmed it.”

“I’m so sorry, my boy.” All Might gave Bakugo a sympathetic look. “I’m guessing he was a friend?”

“Sort of? It’s complicated.” Bakugo shifted nervously. “Our moms were close, and we went to school together so I guess we didn’t have much choice but to be friends. But…”

“But?”

“We drifted apart after our quirks came in. You know how powerful my quirk is, and Deku… well… he’s quirkless.”

All Might frowned. “Deku?”

“What we used to call Izuku. It was…” It was how I used to make fun of him.

All Might, luckily, didn’t dig into that. “You said he was quirkless, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure he didn’t have a quirk?”

“Yes?” Bakugo didn’t understand where this line of questioning was going. “His mom even took him to a doctor and confirmed it.”

All Might frowned. “Are you positive he was still quirkless when you fought him at the USJ?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t he be?” Bakugo thought back to his fight with Deku. “He didn’t use a quirk while fighting, just some gear he brought with him. And the gun.”

All Might sat back, contemplative. “I’m sorry for pressing you, young man. I’m sure this must be hard, knowing that your old friend is a villain.”

“Yeah, about that… I think something happened to him. I don’t remember all the details of his disappearance, but his apartment burned down the when his mom last saw him and his dad’s body was found in the wreckage the next day.” Bakugo rubbed his aching arm again. “Then, he shows up 8 years later working with villains and it's just so… wrong.”

“People can change, young Bakugo.” All Might said. “I do agree that something must have happened to him during these last 8 years, but you have to remember that he chose to turn to villainy.”

“It’s just that… the Deku I knew never would have become a villain. He was determined to be a hero, even without a quirk, even when the whole world said he should give up… he was still stubbornly dreaming of being a hero.”

All Might looked… disturbed. “Do you know if there was ever an investigation in young Izuku’s disappearance?”

“Yeah. The police were all over the place, and kept bugging my mom and Auntie Inko. That’s Deku’s mom, by the way.” Bakugo thought about that for a second. “Do you think I should tell her?”

“That’s your choice, but I don't think that would be a good idea. I can’t imagine any mother would want to hear their child turned to villainy.” All Might stood up. “I’ll talk to a friend in the police force that’s working on the League of Villain’s case. He’ll probably want to interview you officially for the record, but I’ll explain what you told me to the investigators.” He placed a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me this, young Bakugo. I’m sure it must have been hard.”

Bakugo nodded. I should have said something earlier. He got up to leave the room.

When he opened the door, Bakugo was greeted by a guilty-looking Mirio Togata.

“Ah, sorry, I wasn’t able to find Mr. Aizawa…” Mirio said.

Bakugo scowled. “Whatever. I said what I needed to. Fuck off, extra.”

He brushed past the 3rd year to head home, the weight in his chest just a little bit lighter but not completely gone.

--------

“You were eavesdropping, weren’t you?” Yagi Toshinori asked.

Young Togata -- the 9th inheritor of One For All -- was at least ashamed at being called out. “I was going to, but when I heard him mention the USJ incident I figured it had to do with the league of villains which might be related to All For One…”

Mirio Togata was not the kind of person Yagi would have chosen as his successor on his own. He was a good kid, had a strong sense of justice, and practically embodied the heroic idealism All Might had championed for years. He knew the value of practical experience and had practice with his quirk. On paper, he was the perfect candidate for the “symbol of peace.” That was why both Sir Nighteye and Nezu picked him, after all. But Yagi couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Mirio was too perfect, that he should have given the opportunity to someone else.

Ah well, no point in second-guessing now. He’d already passed on One For All, and there was no going back.

Yagi sighed. “It’s fine, just don’t make it a habit. You are correct about it relating to All For One though.”

Young Togata tilted his head. “Because the Nomu, a being with multiple quirks, was with the League of Villains?”

“Yes, but also because young Izuku fits a very old pattern. All For One has held power for centuries by offering to take away unwanted quirks and giving them to people who were quirkless. In recent years he’s become more discrete, but a young, quirkless boy who desperately wants a quirk would be an ideal recruit for him.”

“You mean victim.”

Yagi frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You heard Bakugo. Izuku’s father was found dead, and the police were investigating his disappearance. Something bad happened to him. If he’s the same age as Bakugo, he’d have been… 7 or 8 when he was separated from his mother and brought into the world of villains.” Mirio looked Yagi dead in the eyes. “You don’t seriously think a 7-year-old was able to choose to join the League of Villains?”

Yagi’s breath caught, and he went into a coughing fit. Young Togata is right, how could I have been so blind? “No, he wouldn’t have been able to. Whatever he went through, it forced him down that path.”

Mirio nodded. “Plus, didn’t Bakugo say he wanted to be a hero? Despite everything? A child that wanted to be a hero so badly … I doubt that he’s truly as evil as All For One.”

“You’re right, Young Togata. I’m glad you’re able to see things that way.”

Maybe I chose the right person to inherit One For All after all, Yagi thought.

[ladylynse]

Decided to participate in DJWiFi December before I ran out of days! Following the list by @djwifi-december, the prompt for Day 30 is Comfort. This little ficlet takes place sometime after the S2 finale. Enjoy!

After an akuma attack that hits a little too close to home, Nino and Alya find themselves comforting each other. [FF | AO3]

“Hey, are you okay?”

She wasn’t. Nino knew that. But he also didn’t know any other way to start a conversation like this.

Alya bit out a broken laugh and held out her hands. They were shaking. “Am I okay? Me? I’m about as good as I can be, I guess, but Nino—”

He pulled her close, looping an arm around her shoulder and leading her back into the alley where Ladybug had left them when she’d disappeared with their borrowed Miraculous. “Ladybug fixed everything,” he said. “This isn’t any worse than when Hawk Moth got to your sisters.”

Alya didn’t believe him. Clearly. She turned and buried her face in his shoulder, obviously past caring that she was going to smudge her glasses, and groaned. “Being a superhero is harder than I ever thought it would be,” she mumbled. “And, I mean, I can’t write about Rena Rouge and Carapace, not really, but I can’t not write about them because then everyone will be asking. The Ladyblog isn’t just about Ladybug and Chat Noir anymore. But when stuff like this happens—”

Nino wrapped his arms around her. “Hey. It’s okay. This is going to be okay.”

“Hawk Moth got me again.”

“Hawk Moth’s akuma got a lucky hit on Rena Rouge when Carapace wasn’t around to protect her like he’d promised,” Nino corrected quietly.

Alya looked up at him. “You don’t really believe that, do you? You were protecting your family, Nino. You were doing what you had to. What I told you to do. For once. Stop beating yourself up just because you listened to me.”

He gave her a weak smile. “Protection is my thing. I wasn’t fast enough, and you paid for it. And you might not remember the illusions you created, but I do, and…. Look, just know that you’re important to me. I don’t want to lose you.”

Alya swallowed and pulled back. “What did I do?” she whispered.

Nino hesitated, but he knew that look. She wasn’t going to let him get away with shrugging this off. If he didn’t tell her, she’d convince herself of something infinitely worse, and lying was out of the question. “You, uh, remember Sandboy?”

“When all the nightmares came to life? How could I forget it?”

“Yeah.” He licked his lips. “It was, um, kinda like that. For me at least. I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised. You know me well enough to know my weaknesses. To, uh, know that you are a major weakness….”

Alya threw her arms around him and squeezed. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she said.

She didn’t ask for details.

He had a feeling she didn’t need them.

And that she knew he didn’t want to give them.

Alya moved to kiss him and whispered, “Thank you for saving me.”

He couldn’t help the goofy grin that spread over his face. “How do you know I was the one who saved you?”

“Because you’re my favourite hero.” She smirked and kissed him again. It felt too soon when she pulled back and added, “I’ve got an idea. We both need to clear our heads after what happened. Your parents think you’re with me anyway, right? So give them a call, play the panicked son and reassure yourself that they’re all right, let them tell you you don’t need to rush home just to see them, and let’s go make some better memories of tonight.”

Nino raised his eyebrows. “How do you know they won’t want me to come home if I call?”

Alya laughed. “Because your parents love you and they definitely don’t hate me.”

Now he just felt confused. “That doesn’t tell me anything.”

“It tells you everything. C’mon, Nino. Adrien’s the one with the overprotective father, not you. Your folks will actually respect date night.”

“But—”

“Or, better yet, since we’re here anyway, let’s just drop in and check on them. Together. It’ll prove my point. They’ll be thrilled to see us, you’ll actually believe your words about Ladybug fixing everything, and then they’ll practically shove us out the door to go enjoy ourselves.”

“Alya….” She was trying to pull him along now, and he didn’t want to drag his feet too much. He could see what she was doing now. Taking charge. Getting a handle on this situation.

Pushing away the terrifying thoughts that must still be plaguing her.

She stopped when she got to the sidewalk. “Please, Nino. You need this as much as I do. You can’t deny that.”

She was right. He couldn’t.

It would be easier to banish the memories of the haunting illusions if he could see that he hadn’t failed, that everyone was okay. Ladybug might be able to fix all the damage that had been done during an attack, but the memories remained. And the knowledge of what could happen, what had almost happened, could be a lot to bear. He wasn’t really sure what was worse, remembering every terrible detail or being met with the horrifying blankness that meant you’d been caught in Hawk Moth’s trap and used against Paris.

And yet here was Alya, facing that again. Twice as Lady WiFi, and now twice was Rena Rouge. Smiling at him despite that unknown hanging over her. Because she knew he remembered everything and that remembering hurt.

He bit back the crazy urge to laugh. When had Alya turned the tables on him? He was supposed to be the one comforting her.

“Before we go up,” he said as he drew up alongside her, “in case they don’t let us go like you think—”

“They will.”

“Yeah, but if they don’t— What would you have planned? For us to do tonight?”

Alya squeezed his hand but didn’t look at him as she answered. “Just some small things. Nice things. Hot chocolate. Splitting a pastry or two. Talking. Not talking. Walking. Not walking.” Nino snorted, and Alya winked at him. “Whatever we need.”

“Would’ve been nice.”

“Will be nice.”

“How are you so sure of that? They’re my parents.”

“Yeah, but they raised someone like you, and you wouldn’t be half so considerate if they weren’t. Not to mention everything else. I’m sure. And if I’m wrong—even though I won’t be wrong—there’s always tomorrow.”

Nino chuckled. “Yeah, there’s always tomorrow.” He sighed and leaned against her. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” She gave him a playful nudge. “I need to prove you wrong first.”

He nudged her back and then decided he was better off stealing a kiss—if it could be considered stealing when he knew it was freely given. “As you wish, milady.”

“Oh, don’t start.”

“You mean don’t stop?”

Alya rolled her eyes but didn’t correct him. “Come on. Let’s reassure ourselves that everyone’s okay before you have to field calls from the entire class wanting to know the same. Our date night’s had enough interruptions as it is, and I want to make the most of what’s left of it.”

“Making new memories.”

“Making new memories,” she agreed quietly, “for nights like this when we need them most.”

She was right, of course. Whatever they wound up doing—talking about it, not talking about it, enjoying the silence or enjoying the distractions—it would help. Slowly. To work through this. Alya would know, having been through it with her own family. Saving the people of Paris is one thing, but saving your family was something else entirely.

He was glad to have her.

She gave his hand another squeeze. “Come on,” she repeated. “They’re fine. They’re even better than you are. Let’s go so you can see that for yourself.”

And stop feeling bad for enjoying yourself now. That’s what she wasn’t saying.

And she was right.

Again.

Why was he surprised?

“Okay,” Nino whispered. Alya gave him a small smile and tugged him forward.

Ladybug and Chat Noir, Rena Rouge and Carapace—and even Queen Bee—might be tasked with saving Paris, but it was ordinary people who provided the most comfort in the aftermath. After the heroes had disappeared, after the physical damage was repaired and only the memories remained—that’s when actions like Alya’s mattered the most. That’s when they could be heroes without their masks. And those would be the times everyone would remember.

[ellanainthetardis]

And so today we have a very special guest as promised! This is actually the idea that inspired the whole story (and hey look it only took me 36 chapters to get there!). Anyway, you know what they say about rock bottom... Hopefully, Haymitch touched it...

[ff] or [ao3]

Chapter 36 : I Belong To You

The air was thick.

Haymitch was glad to get out of the hospital paper gown, was even gladder to leave the hospital room for the penthouse even if it meant kicking the wheel into motion… But he wasn’t glad for Peeta’s overwhelming presence in Effie’s absence.

She had been in and out during the last three days, reluctant to leave him but forced to go play the game she had ignored for too long. People were asking questions, making assumptions… She had told him not to worry about it, that she would handle it, so he was doing as instructed.

He didn’t have space for too much worrying and he was already anxious sick about what was going to come in the next few days.

His fingers were shaking and buttoning his shirt required his entire focus. It was a good thing. A distraction. Because the boy was staring.

He had mostly ignored Peeta ever since Alina’s visit. He tended to ignore people if he could get away with it. It was easier. There had been more victors coming and going with the same reassurances Alina had given him, not always so outwardly offered but the promise was in there all the same. He was still welcome, still part of the club. Lucky him.

He hadn’t been alone with Peeta in all this time either and he supposed he ought to say something, offer an apology at the very least, an explanation at worst… He had nothing to say. Anything he could say would sound cheap and, truth be told, no amount of apologies or explanations would make the situation okay. He couldn’t even look at the boy. Not without remembering in vivid colors his spectacular failure.

It was unfair, of course, but it was the way it was. He knew that tune, he had been dancing to it ever since Maysilee had died. You could never look in the eyes the people the dead allies had left behind. That was where the ghosts resided.

He hadn’t dreamed of them yet. He hadn’t had nightmares.

They would come.

He knew they would.

The boy was staring and he was sure Peeta was gathering courage to say something Haymitch really didn’t want to hear.

“Please don’t.” he requested preemptively, finally giving up on the shirt. Who cared if three buttons were left open at the collar?

Peeta seemed to hesitate, then he handed him the jacket. “If you can make it to the window, you should wave at them. It will go a long way in making the Gamemakers happy.”

Making the Gamemakers happy wasn’t exactly his top priority but he snatched the jacket from the boy’s hand and shrugged it on with less swiftness than he would have liked. His shoulder ached where Cashmere had stabbed him and the bruises on his side were fading but they were still a nice shade of purple and yellow. The good thing was that his torso and shoulder hurt enough that he barely felt the residual throb in his hand.

He wasn’t as steady on his legs as the doctors would have liked yet but victors were always rushed out of the hospital as soon as possible anyway and he had gained more recovery time than most. His steps were slow but purposeful. From the bed to the window,  an area he had carefully given a wide berth until then, precisely to avoid facing the country a while longer.

He took a deep breath before reaching for the handle. He wasn’t sure he was glad or resentful for the boy’s insistent presence at his side. He would have preferred accusations and declarations of hate. That, he would have known how to deal with. There was anger alright in Peeta’s gaze but he didn’t think even half of it was directed at him and there was affection there too, a fondness Haymitch certainly didn’t deserve.

“It’s just a week or two at most.” Peeta promised. “Then, we’re going home. It’ll be easier at home.”

Home.

He opened the window and he was greeted with such a clamor he wondered if that was something the boy and Effie had planned: his spontaneous appearance at the window… Not difficult to put in place. One word to the press… Another to a couple of influent sponsors… He forced his lips to stretch into something that might have passed for a smirk and he waved with his left hand to spare his aching shoulder. The sun caught the bangle, almost blinding him. That was good. Better than seeing the crowd that was pressing at the foot of the building, chanting his name.

Home.

He didn’t have a home. He had a house. A house he would now have to bury himself in for good because there was no way he was risking facing Primrose Everdeen or her mother. And Thread. The Head Peacekeeper seemed insignificant now, in light of everything else, but… No liquor. There would be no liquor. There would be nothing to use as a rampart against the angry ghosts and the unbearable memories.

And Twelve…

The rich smell of wet earth and woods… The faint traces of coal dust in the air…

He and Chaff walking through a familiar landscape to check snares.

He froze, hand in the air, smirk turning into a twisted thing…

He couldn’t go back to Twelve.

Twelve…

Twelve was part of the arena.

He would be trapped.

Trapped there.

Trapped again.

Trapped…

“I think it is enough.”

He wasn’t sure when Effie had arrived. He hadn’t heard her come in. All he could hear was the clear calls of his name down there.

He let her drag him away, close the window after waving herself, dazzling them, distracting them…

“Are you alright?” Peeta worried. “You’re white as a sheet.”

Effie’s hand was on his arm and he turned to her because she had been by the window a second ago and he knew what that meant. Losing time. He gasped in a gulp of air, unaware that he had been holding his breath.

“Peeta, dear, give us a minute, will you?” Effie hummed gently as if it wasn’t a big deal. She helped him sit on the bed and he never took his eyes away from her. Peeta hesitated but eventually nodded and left the room. “Look at me.” she demanded with that same calm that made him wonder if she had asked someone about how to handle panic attacks or if she had been in that position too many times over the years that she now instinctively knew what to do with unstable victors. “Just focus on me, darling. It will be over in a second.”

A part of him revolted at the patronizing tone.

Most of him was too far gone to care.

He put it out of his mind. Twelve, the arena… He put it out of his mind. One step at a time. One day at a time.

He wasn’t exactly calm yet when the door opened again.

She frowned in displeasure and turned. “Peeta, I told you…”

Her voice trailed off when the boy came in, escorted by two gorillas in Peacekeeper uniforms.

“We have a special guest.” Peeta announced somberly, immediately coming to stand close to them, in front of them. Like a stupid human shield.

Haymitch’s heart stopped when Snow strolled in like he owned the place.

Although, technically, he did.

“President Snow!” Effie squealed.

Haymitch couldn’t quite identify the emotions in her voice. Part astonishment, part fear, part… Was that admiration still? For the man she had been taught to worship since youth?

He didn’t pause to analyze his own feelings.

He stood up and pushed both Effie and Peeta behind him, arms stretched wide to make sure they wouldn’t do something stupid like try to get in front of him. His eyes darted from the Peacekeepers’ guns to Snow’s walking stick and, for the first time since he had woken up, he felt all there. Mind sharp. Focused. Adrenaline was a miracle worker.

“Good morning, Haymitch.” Snow said with a hint of amusement. “I was in the vicinity, I thought I would come and offer my congratulations.”

“I won.” he spat, his heart beating so fast and hard it seemed to bounce back against his ribs with every breath.

“Hence the congratulations.” the man concurred, waving a hand in the air. The President’s eyes were like a snake’s. When they went past his shoulder to the people behind him…

“No.” he protested, aware that the conversation probably wouldn’t have made sense to anyone else. But he had known Snow for a long time. He was familiar with his methods. Familiar with… “I went in. That was punishment enough. I went in.”

Snow, to his credit, didn’t pretend not to understand but he had the audacity to almost look sorry. “A punishment, yes. And had it been anyone else standing in your place, I would have called it quit. Lesson learned. But you, Haymitch…”

“I learned it.” he cut him off quickly. “I… The arena was clear enough. I learned it.”

“You were instrumental to this whole… Well, I believe from your point of view one would call it a fiasco.” Snow opposed. “You were never supposed to win, you realize. But you did and now you are twice a Quell victor and making you disappear would be more trouble than you are worth, honestly. So, you see… Punishment has to be given.”

“Give it, then.” Peeta snorted, taking a step forward.

“No.” Haymitch snapped, pushing him back, relieved when Effie took a hint and got in front of the boy too. It was stupid, naturally. Useless. But it was how they had agreed to play this from the start: protect the children. At all cost. “I won’t let you touch him. I won’t.”

The Peacekeeper on the left shifted. It was subtle. But Haymitch knew when someone was getting ready for a fight.

“Oh, Mr Mellark will walk out of this room with you.” Snow chuckled as if Haymitch was stupid and it was hilarious. “I am a fair man, Haymitch, surely you realize that by now?” He almost burst out laughing at that but the President wasn’t done and he doubted it would have helped. “You and Miss Everdeen were responsible, he played with the cards he was dealt. Of course, there was this mishap in Eleven during the Tour but he didn’t know the rules yet. He adapted magnificently. No… I have no complains about you, Peeta.”

“Katniss…” the boy growled.

“Katniss Everdeen is dead.” the President interrupted in a clipped tone. “She had spirits, she could have done great things if she had chosen her side more carefully. I would strongly advise not following in her footsteps.” His voice softened. “I like you. Do not make me regret it.”

Haymitch didn’t glance back to look but at the noise, he knew the boy was trying to get past Effie, to protest…

“You don’t want to kill her.” Haymitch declared before the boy could say something stupid. Because it came down to that really. If Snow was sparing Peeta… “You want me under your thumb. You need a leash. She can be the leash. You keep her alive, you make sure I cooperate.”

He was showing his hand but he was certain the hand had already been tipped anyway. The phone calls, the toasting, the love declarations… He had thought it wouldn’t matter because he was going to die. He had thought…

He had said he loved her and he had meant it as a farewell.

Just not hers.

Snow looked almost sympathetic. “I already have a leash for you, Haymitch.” He pointed to Peeta with the end of his walking stick. “You volunteered for the boy, I assume you care for him. And Mr Mellark is blessed with an extended family and many friends. So many people who could take the fall if you do not play the game the regular way…”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to kill her.”

“I wish I could believe that.” the President sighed. “But your pride, Haymitch… It has always been your greatest flaw. You will never learn your place.” Snow’s eyes darted to Effie and back. “Besides, one could question your escort’s loyalties. Truly, it is two birds with one stone.”

“I have always been loyal to the Capitol.” Effie lied through her teeth, clearly hesitating on how to play this. Haymitch had a feeling that if she had had any hope of getting out of it alive, she would already have been in the middle of a dramatic act of tears and pleas. She knew it was hopeless, had already accepted it…

“I am not a monster and you did win that Quell…” Snow hummed. “I will grant you a goodbye. As a reward.”

Effie’s breathing was short and sharp.

Her fingers brushed the back of his hand.

Haymitch pushed her behind him once more, refusing to even look at her.

“I learned the lesson.” he swore. “You don’t need to do this. I learned the lesson. I know my place. I learned the lesson.”

Snow considered him for a long time, looking bored by the whole thing. A façade. Haymitch knew he was enjoying it. The man was probably high on it.

“What is it, then? This lesson you claimed to have learned.” the President hummed.

“I belong to you.” Haymitch muttered.

“I beg your pardon, I didn’t quite catch that.” Snow mocked.

“I belong to you.” he repeated, louder. Too loud. It was like a stab in the chest. He ignored Effie’s soft “Haymitch, don’t” because there was no point. “We belong to you. There’s no point trying to escape it. There’s no point trying to…” His voice faltered and he shrugged. “I get it. I won’t cause any more problems. I won’t ever try anything again. I just… Don’t kill her. I get it, I swear.”

Something like surprise flashed on the President’s face but it soon morphed into a cruel twist in the corner of his falsely gentle smile. “Why, Haymitch, it seems you can learn after all.”

“I learned my lesson.” he promised. “The Quell was punishment enough. I learned…”

“Kneel.” Snow ordered.

Everything in him rebelled at the thought.

He bristled.

Your pride, Haymitch… It has always been your greatest flaw.

And he was right.

“No.” Effie whispered, horrified. “Don’t…”

It wasn’t that hard in the end. Not if his humiliation was the price for her life.

Bending the first knee was the difficult part. The second, it was almost easy.

He needed to prove he had truly and well understood. If he wanted to save her, if he… There was a chance still, he could see it. Snow wouldn’t be able to resist the thought of torturing him further, of dangling her over his head…

“Beg for her life.” the President requested in that same bored tone. As if this was all a ceremonial that he had been through a thousand times before, a chore.

Haymitch accepting he was powerless.

That was what it was all about.

“Please.” he pleaded. He felt empty kneeling there, in front of a man he hated more than he had ever hated anything or anyone else, stripped of his pride and dignity, certain there was nothing he wouldn’t have done at that moment to secure Effie’s survival. Emptier than when he had woken up. Emptier than he had ever been. “I’ll do anything. I’ll play the game. I’ll… Anything. I’ll do anything.”

He met Snow’s eyes, what he was leaving out clear in his gaze. He would jump through every hoop and pretend to like it. He would be an exemplary victor. He would go to events and pretend to enjoy it, he would sing Snow’s and the Capitol’s praises in the Districts, if anyone was stupid enough to want to buy him he would lie down and let them do whatever they pleased because…

Because all of that was worth Effie’s life.

All of it.

“I lost.” he admitted slowly, his voice rough. The more he begged, the easier it went. He wondered if there was relief to be found in giving up, some sort of comfort in pleading for mercy, some sort of peace in accepting defeat. “I lost. You won. I’m sorry I was even stupid enough to try. I lost. Please. Don’t take her away from me. Please.”

He bowed his head, numb once more, hollow… He stared at the floor and waited for the sentence.

It felt to him as if everyone was holding their breath.

Snow was standing there, staring down at him thoughtfully, twisting his walking stick this way and that…

“One toe out of line and she will pay the price.” the President declared eventually. “Do not disappoint me, Haymitch. If you make me regret my leniency, Miss Trinket will suffer the consequences and they won’t be pretty.”

There were two sighs of relief behind him.

Haymitch was staring at Snow’s shoes wondering who even wore buckles on them, if it was in fashion and if Effie would inevitably try to convince him to wear some eventually.

The shoes were almost at the door, framed by the Peacekeepers’ boots, when he found his voice again.

“Can I stay?”

The question took everyone aback, including himself.

The shoes stopped, the shiny buckles catching the light for a second.

“Stay.” Snow repeated, a touch of uncertainty in his voice.

“In the city.” he clarified, the thought solidifying in his mind. He couldn’t go back to Twelve. He couldn’t. It would be like living in the arena. It would be… No, he couldn’t. Not anymore. The Capitol was the lesser of two evils. Most of the Careers chose to reside in the city at least the first few years after their victory. It wasn’t unheard of for a victor to prefer the Capitol to their own District. Travel was limited, there was no coming and going every day or on a whim but… Staying in the city for months on end wasn’t unheard of. As an afterthought, he added: “Please.”

How easily one took to begging…

He wasn’t sure Snow had been expecting that kind of request but the President took it in stride. “If you are ready to shoulder the obligations that come with such a choice.”

Parties and events and public apparitions and probably whoring himself out too… But he would have Effie full time.

In Twelve, he would simply have the feeling of being forever trapped in the arena, rotting away in his house without any booze to keep the edge off, unable to face anyone. He didn’t give himself two weeks before he did something stupid.

Was it even a choice?

“Yes.” he accepted simply, with the feeling of selling his soul to the devil. Except the devil already owned his soul, didn’t he? That was the whole point of that lesson he had needed to learn.

The shoes didn’t move.

He had the feeling he was supposed to look up but he felt so… meek. Weak. Ashamed. The most mortifying was that both Peeta and Effie had witnessed his humiliation. But that too was part of the lesson, he figured.

“I have no objection to your affair with Miss Trinket going public.” Snow declared, in a tone that suggested he was doing them a favor. “This being said, concubinage is all I am prepared to accept. This ring on your finger will never have any official value and will never be acknowledged, Miss Trinket, am I clear?”  

“Crystal, Sir.” Effie answered after clearing her throat.

“Keep him in line, my dear.” President Snow concluded almost with affection. A fake, horrible fondness that made Haymitch taste bile. “I will see you all tomorrow at the Crowning.”

The shoes left the room and the door was shut after the second Peacekeeper.

Silence could be deafening.

It lasted forever in the space of ten seconds.

Then, stubborn hands pulled him up to his feet.

He wouldn’t meet Effie’s eyes but she framed his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. He felt his face burn red with shame but before he could say anything, shove her away or snap, she was kissing him.

They hadn’t kissed yet. Not since what he had thought to be their last.

He remained unresponsive at first but her lips had always possessed that gift for drawing him in and instead of pushing her away, he tugged her closer, forcing his tongue in her mouth… He only remembered Peeta too late, once their lips parted with an audible sound that, he was sure, made the boy even more uncomfortable.

He glanced at the kid, struck by the enormity of what had just happened.

The boy looked betrayed, hurt, angry. Everything he had expected after Katniss’ death.

He wasn’t that surprised when Peeta stormed out.

[an-upset-librarian]

Stardust & Fire -- Chapter Thirteen

I bring you, after a short hiatus, the next chapter in this series! I had some writer’s block issues, but now everything is back on track! I know updating at 2am is not the best plan but whatever. 

Please enjoy this brief preview of this chapter (a 6300 word monster)  the full one is on one of the links below. Thanks for reading!

FFN   AO3

Lucy wiped her brow and breathed in deep, filling her lungs with fresh air. Another bead of sweat rolled down her temple and a shudder pulsed down her spine.

             “Good Lucy, concentrate.” Capricorn’s voice said. She gritted her teeth and tried to focus on her task.

Capricorn, her most recent spirit acquisition, had been very agreeable in joining her and helping her train and learning how to contain her Stardust. She had to pay a hefty sum for his key at the shop in Basta, but it was more than worth it. Capricorn had told her some old stories of her mother, and was more knowledgeable in Starchildren than anyone else, or any book she’d found.

“Your magic is a part of you, but it is also born from a fallen star. A part of that star wants to return to the heavens, but you are the one in control, remember that,” Capricorn said. Wincing, Lucy nodded. Her first training lesson was all about keeping her magic under control, so there would be no more glowstick explosions. To do this, she was keeping her aura exposed and making herself glow at a steady rate for as long as she could.

Oh, just keep glowing, it’ll be easy. Don’t worry. Lucy bit her lip. Bullshit. She was drenched in sweat, and every single muscle in her body was quivering from exertion. She must have been keeping her aura ‘on’ for hours. She was sitting on the floor of her bedroom, with the curtains drawn in the hopes that no humans would see her shining through the window from the street.

             “Concentrate, you’re losing control,” Capricorn said in his calm and monotonous voice. She bit her lower lip and tried to reign her thoughts back under control. Another droplet of sweat rolled down her back, bringing goosebumps rising along with it. Her skin felt like it was burning, and her magic was aching to run free and shine brighter. She reminded herself to think calm thoughts, and not about a nice warm bath to soothe her aching muscles. Or food.  Or water for her aching throat.

             “Lucy, focus,” Capricorn repeated. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. She was focused. Sort of. He told her that she could last a few more minutes, and she tried her hardest to keep up with his demands. Her magic bubbled beneath her skin in protest, the Starlight trying to tempt her into bursting free to dance across the sky.

             With a wild curse, she lost the hold on her magic and there was a blaze of golden light before the room went dark. Ears ringing, Lucy hesitantly opened her eyes, one at a time, to assess the damage. Luckily there were no more burns on the carpet, or the drapes, but the light in her ceiling was blown out. Sunlight drifted through the taupe curtains, casting a warm glow over the quiet room.

             “Well done for your first try.” Capricorn rose to his feet and straightened his sunglasses, despite the low lighting. Lucy rolled onto her back and splayed her limbs out like a starfish with a tired groan.

             “My entire body hurts. My brain hurts. How long did I last?” She asked. Capricorn cleared his throat and answered, “Three minutes and forty-two seconds.”

             She leapt to her feet with a cry of surprise. “No way it was only three measly minutes!”

             He just shrugged. Cursing, she pulled at her hair and groaned again. And here she thought she was doing well, all things considered. Exhaustion pulled at her eyes and the all too familiar chill of magic depletion near her heart grew.

             “Considering you kept me summoned during that time, I’d say you did quite well. But yes, there is a rapid need for improvement,” Her spirit commented. Sighing, Lucy thanked Capricorn for his help and promised to summon him again tomorrow for another session, then sent him back to the Celestial Spirit realm.

             “I think I deserve a nice, warm, calming bath,” she mumbled to empty air. Maybe she should get a house plant to keep her company. She hoped Capricorn’s teachings would help her catch up to the skill levels of her team mates, having felt left out and weak during their last couple of jobs. Erza could always finish off any enemy in one or two strikes, Gray was always thinking ahead with his spells, and Natsu had enough raw destructive power and enthusiasm for the three of them. Even Happy had a bigger role than she did, able to scout ahead and swoop down to scoop up Natsu and carry him off into danger.

             She drew her bath while she mused, eager to spend the next hour or so encased in warmth and relaxation. She poured in a special bath salt Wendy cooked up for her, letting the herbal scent fill the air. The salts were imbued with Wendy’s healing magic, and meant to help replenish one’s magic aura, and help soothe aches and pains. Despite only having a small jar of the miracle stuff, Lucy decided she deserved to use them after her brutal three minutes of agony.

-ooooo-

             “Luckily this job is in Magnolia, so Natsu, you won’t have to deal with any transportation,” Erza said, casting the gleeful fire drakon a smile, “however, we will need to be careful of exposure to humans.”

             Lucy nodded and straightened her ponytail. Their job today was simple, but dangerous. The Magic Council shared confidential information with Makarov of a deadly dark guild alliance, known as the Balam Alliance. The combined forces of numerous powerful dark guilds were causing chaos and raising the possibility of the exposure of magic to the human world.

             Makarov instructed their team to go out and find a lower level dark guild involved in this alliance and capture them for questioning.

             “Remember, it is vital that none of our targets escape and warn other guilds of our attack, understood?” Erza said sternly, fixing every member of their team with a deadly glare.

             “Are we sure that Happy has to stay here?” Natsu asked. Erza responded with a stiff nod, then started to march towards the portal. Gray followed their fierce Valkyrie, and Lucy pulled Natsu along by his arm.

             “Don’t worry about Happy, he’ll be fine with Wendy and Charle,” she said with a smile. Natsu huffed but followed her through the portal and into Magnolia. She smiled as the warm sun lit her skin, complimented by a nice cool breeze. It was already October and the seasons were beginning to change, cool air replacing the sweltering heat of summer and the leaves beginning to change color. She was looking forward to the famous Fall Festival in a couple weeks, during the last days of October. Magnolia was well known for three things: Rainbow Sakura trees, the Cardia cathedral, and the Fall Festival. The entire city would celebrate the days of the last harvest with a parade and parties that lasted days and nights. Feasts would be shared as the last sun festival came to a close and the city began it’s winter preparations.

             Erza quickly reequipped out of her armor and into a simple white blouse and blue skirt to blend in with the human population. Lucy was dressed in a plain t-shirt and a pair of white shorts, with a baseball cap on her head to try and hide her pointed ears. Natsu and Gray had their usual clothes on, each sticking out like a sore thumb no matter what.

             The group marched through the bustling streets of Magnolia and she had to try very hard not to get distracted as they passed through the market district, full of pretty shops and delicious food. Natsu, unsurprisingly, was distracted by the sweet scents filling the air and the tempting calls of food vendors lining the streets. Luckily, Erza kept them on track as they trudged through the crowds, at least until they passed a cake shop and they stopped inside so the fierce Valkyrie could purchase a slice of sweet strawberry cake.

             Lucy had to admit, she was no longer used to being around so many humans. She was incredibly self-aware, always adjusting her cap and her hair and trying her best to keep her aura disguised. She even had to focus on not moving too fast, especially after she accidentally bumped into a tall, wide set man with no regards for those in his path and sent him sprawling on the ground on accident. From a near brush against her shoulder.

While in the guild, surrounded by her friends and colleagues, she could let a little bit of her light shine through, leaving her skin and hair with a faint glow. It was strange to keep her power so subdued and bottled up inside. How she survived nearly twenty years without it astounded her.

             “Weird, isn’t it?” Natsu commented, bumping her out of her thoughts with his shoulder. She tilted her head in confusion. “Being around normal humans again and havin to keep your magic all bottled up.”

             Nodding, she let loose a deep sigh. He slung his arm over her shoulder and said, “No worries, Luce, cheer up! We all suck at fitting in with the humans.”

             Smiling, Lucy had to agree. Erza stuck out with her fierce personality and tendency towards violence, Gray was always losing his clothes, and Natsu had his pink hair and draconic attributes to draw attention.

             “You’re right. I think I fit in the most out of all of you,” she teased, looping her arm around his waist. Natsu just rolled his eyes and dragged her along beside him. They soon left the busy market behind and the further they walked, the less people they saw. The buildings became more rundown, each looking more abandoned than the next. After the last experience she had in a similar neighborhood, Lucy was glad to be surrounded by her friends and to have Natsu next to her, sharing another one of his ridiculous stories.

             “Oi, lovebirds,” Gray called, “we’re getting close.” Lucy nodded, choosing to ignore the flush creeping up her neck at his comment, and stepped out of Natsu’s arm to reach down and grab Virgo’s key. Out of most of her spirits, Virgo and Leo were the only ones that could pass for human, but Virgo’s talents were less flashy. She separated from Natsu’s side and jogged down into a deserted alley and away from any prying eyes to summon her spirit.

             “Would you like to punish me, princess?” Virgo asked the moment she appeared. Lucy rolled her eyes.

             “I need you to scout out towards that dark guild’s hiding place and make sure nobody leaves. Use your pitfalls to contain them until we can get there,” she explained. Virgo bowed, then tunneled into the ground and disappeared.

             She returned to her companions and relayed what she told Virgo. Erza complimented her on her strategy, and quietly reequipped a pair of daggers into her hands. Gray tossed his shirt aside and cracked his knuckles, sending a wave of frost through the air.    

             “I’m all fired up!” Natsu said, smoke curling out from behind his sharp canines. Lucy glanced around, making sure the few people lingering on the street had gone, and quickly summoned her short sword made of Stardust. The blade hummed, and flecks of light fell around the sword, burning the air and the concrete. She prepared for the drain of having a golden gate open and her sword summoned, but it didn’t come. Maybe those few minutes of training over the past week were working after all.

             The dark guild had taken over a small cluster of crumbling warehouses in the abandoned corner of Magnolia. They could hear the ambiance of laughing and talking, and as the sun began to set, strung lacrima crystals lit the walls leading closer to the heart of the dark guild’s camp, each bobbing softly in the air, casting a soft glow along the stone and concrete as the sunlight faded away. Her sword sung as the stars began to appear in the darkening blue sky, each light twinkling as though to answer her sword’s calling. She saw Erza take a curious glance towards her weapon, the Valkyrie no doubt able to sense the power her sword summoned through her gifts.

             Lucy bit her lip to hide the smile threatening to creep along her features. Excitement for the fight ahead bubbled within her, bringing her magic to the surface of her skin, the Starlight desperate to break free and remind the world of where it came from. She breathed in the smoky scent of Natsu’s fire and reminded her Starlight that they had other more important matters at hand, and no one would be returning to the heavens anytime soon.

             Natsu’s grin was unhidden, his canines bared. Erza motioned for Gray to join her in going around the main warehouse to attack from the left flank and gestured for she and Natsu to attack from the right. The Valkyrie’s fierce warning about letting any of the mages escape echoed in her bright stare. Grinning like a fox with its prey caught in its trap, Natsu lunged ahead, leaving Lucy to leap after him while Gray and Erza disappeared into the darkness.

             She understood why Erza left Natsu to attack the main corridor and draw the attention of the force within. The drakon was anything but subtle. The moment his feet passed into the lighted path cast by the floating lacrima’s, all hope for a secret attack was lost. He sent a bursting spiral of flame cascading through the hall, spiking down into the side rooms and alerting the dark guild to their presence.          

             Howling, he burst through the remnants of his fiery attack, smoke curling from his snarl and fire burning in his eyes. Lucy was happy to let her partner draw the majority of their enemy’s attention. She crept into the side rooms along the main corridor leading into the main hangar of the warehouse- which likely held the main gathering hall for the guild- and dispatched any lingering foes hiding away.

             She dodged a blast of dark energy from a fierce looking mage with swirling black tattoos covering their entire body, parried the next blow with her sword, somehow knowing the magic within the blade was enough to counter the attack. The bolt of dark magic rebounded off her blade and struck the ceiling above the caster, cracking the old concrete and sending it crashing down upon the unsuspecting mage below. She quickly used one of the rope charms gifted to her by Levy to tie the assailant up, then continued her path down towards the bursting arcs of flame and the laughter.

             Lucy ran into chaos. One half of the hangar was covered in ice and the other swarming with flame. Erza soared above the crowd in her Heaven’s Wheel armor, sending volleys of swords down upon the guild. A few brave souls dared to join the redhead in her domain above, but quickly learned why that was the worst possible idea they could have come up with.

             Before she had another moment to observe, a man with glowing daggers came roaring towards her at unbelievable speed. She noted his pointed ears beneath the russet curls that identified him as demi-fae and swung her sword up to deflect his first blow. His first blade bounced off the Starlight with a piercing ring, but the second swung from below towards her gut. With a growl, she twisted her hand and blocked that attack, but before she could even think about taking the offensive, his second blade slid past her defenses and sliced her upper arm.

             She bit back the scream in her throat as the magic within the blade burned her. It was not a hot burn, but rather the burn of something that was too cold. Her left arm went numb as the freezing magic swam down her blood and she reached for her Stardust to keep the poison from reaching the rest of her body.

[claws-n-salt]

Every Kwami Loves Nino

Nino gets a ‘we need to talk text from Alya’. It ends up being a way different talk then he was expecting.

Chapters || 1 || 2 || 3 (You Are Here) || 4

Rated G || 2,145 Words

Cross posted on Ao3 || FF

Chapter 3 || Trixx

Nino stood in front of the door to Alya’s apartment. He’d been out there for hours. Well, it’d probably been closer to ten minutes, but it felt like hours. He just couldn’t lift his hand to knock, Nino was pretty sure his and Alya’s relationship would be over as soon as she opened that door.

Earlier in the day day, Nino received a ‘we need to talk’ text, making his heart drop. Adrien had tried to reassure Nino that Alya was not going to break up with him, but what else would she want to talk about? It helped, being able to vent to his best bro, but it still felt like two opinions were missing. The text came in after school, so there was no way he could talk to his little kwami friends about the text. It would have been nice hearing the opinions of millennia old gods before Nino had to have his heart broken.

Taking a deep breath, Nino closed his eyes and knocked. Two ecstatic “Nino!”s were heard through the door. Moments later, an exasperated Alya pulled the door open with the twins jumping around behind her. “Hey babe.” Alya leaned in, pecking Nino on the mouth.

That was a good sign, right? Alya wouldn’t have kissed him if she was planning on breaking up with him, right? He was shaken out of his thoughts when the twins gave a unanimous ‘ewwww’ because of the kiss.

Marlena’s voice came from the kitchen. “Girls, do you want to come help your papa and I make cookies?” Ella and Etta cheered, racing for the kitchen. Alya watched the girls skip away together with a soft grin on her face. Nino was struck, once again, by just how beautiful his girlfriend was. Alya’s smile slipped as she turned back to Nino, gesturing for him to come in. Oh, yeah, for a moment there, he forgot he was about to be broken up with.

“Maman, Nino and I will be in my room.” Nino trailed behind Alya towards her room, passing the kitchen where he saw Marlena and Otis smirking at each other. He found it a little strange when Otis looked over and winked before Nino fully passed the kitchen. There wasn’t too much time for him to dwell on it before Alya pulled Nino into her room and physically sat him down on her bed while she began to pace.

Nino sat in silence as his eyes trailed Alya’s back and forth path, she seemed to be mumbling to herself as she walked. He couldn’t make out anything she said, unfortunately. Suddenly, she stopped in front of him, Nino’s palms instantly began sweating. This was it. Alya cleared her throat. “Nino, I don’t know how to say this, but…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath.

Nino didn’t think he was strong enough to hear the actual words from Alya herself, so he interrupted. “It’s okay Alya, I understand.” Her eyes blew wide, mouth falling open as she gapped at him.

“Y-you what?” She looked completely gob smacked. Nino was slightly offended that she thought he wouldn’t see the signs of her about to break things off with him.

“I get it. I’m sure you have some reason why you want to break up, and you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to. I mean, I still love you and I’m kind of heart broken right now, but all I care about is if you’re happy or not Alya. I-“ Nino was interrupted by Alya practically jumping on him, sealing her mouth to his.

Alya pulled away a breathtaking amount of time later, sitting next to Nino and lightly punching him in the arm. “I’m not breaking up with you dummy! I still love you too.” Nino let out a sigh of relief. “I can’t tell you how relived I am to here you say that. After I got your ‘we need to talk message,’ I immediately put on my ‘sadness’ playlist.” Alya laughed.

“You were totally going to play Sick of Losing Soulmates by Dodie as you stared longingly out your window huh?” Nino nodded sheepishly. Alya smiled, giving Nino a short, gentle kiss before schooling her features into something a little more serious. “You are absolutely adorable, but we really do need to talk about something.” Alya patted her hair gently. “You can come out.” Out of Alya’s glorious curls, flew a little fox. “Nino, I’d like you to meet-“

“Trixx?” Nino burst into laughter. He couldn’t believe that he thought Alya was going to break up with him when she was actually going to tell him she was Rena Rouge.

“What?!” Nino’s laughter cut off and was met with a look of shock from his girlfriend and a look of curiosity from the kwami of illusions who floated closer to him. “How do you… I mean, what do you… How… When…” Alya, surprisingly, seemed to at a loss for words.

Nino rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tick he had Adrien to blame for. “Well, you see, I’m kind of friends with Ladybug and Chat Noir’s kwamis. That’s why I go to the bathroom so often during class.”

Alya seized him by the shoulders. “You’re what? And here I thought I’d be the only one revealing a big secret today. Tell me everything!”

Nino shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. Plagg, Chat Noir’s kwami, ended up eating my lunch one time and I caught him in my bag. After that, I brought Ladybug’s kwami to get food during an akuma attack because lucky charm failed, and she was stuck. Plagg and Tikki both mentioned that they missed their other half, since they have that whole yin and yang thing going on, so I offered to let them meet in my bag during class. Sometimes I’ll go to the bathroom, so we can all hang out. They’ve taught me a lot about the kwami in their set, and others as well. It’s actually really fascinating.”

Alya sat back dumbly. “Wow, this is a lot to take in.”

Trixx laid down on the brim of Nino’s hat, leaning off the edge to look at him. His eyes crossed slightly as he looked at the little orange kwami. “So sweetie, how long have you been hanging out with my bff Plagg and his lovebug?”

“Um, about three months. They were really excited when the new heroes showed up last month.” Nino smiled at Trixx before he began to dig around in his bag for something. “I’ve been excited to meet you Trixx. You’re welcome in my bag at school whenever you’d like, just make sure Plagg and Tikki aren’t canoodling it up in there first.”

Trixx snickered. “Oh I will. Those two are sickeningly sweet when they’re together. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that though.”

Nino laughed. “Not at all. I’ll try to talk about how amazing Alya is and I can’t even get through an entire sentence before Plagg is off on a Tikki tangent while she’s right there! In fact, just the other… Ah ha!” Nino finally found what he’d been rummaging for in his bag, holding up a ziplock bag filled with dried fruits triumphantly. “After the new heroes showed up, I had Plagg and Tikki tell me what each of you ate just in case either Rena or Bee ended up in a similar situation to Ladybug. Plagg said you liked dried fruit so I got a bunch of different kinds since I didn’t know if you had a specific favorite.

Trixx took a swan dive directly into the fruit bag Nino held open. She popped her head up a moment later, a dried pineapple in one paw and a dried apricot in the other. “Alya, with how often you talk about Nino, I thought you were building him up a bit much, but I like him. You should keep him forever.”

Nino laughed, smiling at Alya. “So you’ve been talking about me? Alya, do you have a crush on me or something? How embarrassing.”

Alya snorted. “Nino, we’re dating, of course I have a crush on you. And from what you just said, it sounds like you’ve been talking about me too.” She leaned forward and gave him a little peck. “So this wasn’t exactly how I plan me revealing my secret identity to you to go, but what are your thoughts on me being Rena?”

Setting the fruit and Trixx filled bag next to the pair, Nino looked at his girlfriend. He noticed Alya twisting her hands out of nervousness, so he gently pulled them into his own. “Am I a little scared you’re going to get hurt fighting the akuma? There is no doubt about that.” Alya deflated slightly, looking away from him. Nino let go of one of her hands, tilting her chin back so she would look at him. “However, I am so proud of you. You have been kicking akuma butt and looking good while doing it! You know I’ll support you no matter what, and superheroing is no different.”

Nino and Alya both leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. “Thank you for being so understanding. I mean, I knew you would be, but I was still nervous. My parents took it well too, but not nearly this well.”

“Hm, your parents already knowing might explain the smirks and wink on our way in here.” Alya groaned.

“I told them that I was going to tell you I was Rena today, so probably. That’s what the cookies are for, they’re celebration cookies.” The couple chuckled over Alya’s parent’s antics.

“You know what you being Rena does mean though right?” Alya shook her head. “It means I’m dating a superhero and anyone dating a superhero knows they have to try the Spiderman kiss at some point.” Nino wiggled his eyebrows at his girlfriend.

Alya doubled over in laughter and Trixx began to chortle around the dried blueberries she’d just shoved in her mouth. “We’ll see if you’re that lucky one of these days bubble boy. For now, just kiss me like a normal person.”

“Of course, my vixen.” As Nino closed the distance between him and Alya, he decided that no matter how Alya had thought her reveal would go, this ending was so much better.

A few minutes later, Nino and Alya were interrupted by a tiny cleared throat. Trixx looked just slightly sheepish as she held up the now empty ziplock bag. “Do you have any more.”

Nino was only slightly surprised Trixx had finished the bag so quickly. Plagg did tell Nino that her appetite was even bigger than his. “I do in fact, have another bag. Let me grab it.” Nino reached over and started rummaging in his bookbag again.

Trixx flew over to her chosen. “You know what Alya, I changed my mind. Let him go so I can have him and he can feed me fruit forever.” The couple laughed as the kwami looked at them both with complete seriousness.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Two weeks later, Nino found himself directly in an akuma’s line of fire. He closed his eyes, bracing for an impact that never came. Instead, someone picked him up. Opening his eyes, he saw Rena Rouge running to a nearby alley.

She set him down below a building’s fire escape. “Nino, you have to be more careful! I know the miraculous cure fixes everything, but I still don’t think I could stand seeing you get hurt.”

Nino brought a hand up, caressing her face gently. “Sorry Al, I thought I’d had a clean shot to get out. I promise to evaluate the situation more.”

Rena hugged him. “Thank you.” She pulled out of the embrace when the akuma roared down the street. “Now, this is an alley I transform in sometimes. At the end there is a space where you can squeeze through onto the next street. Please go home, or somewhere else safe until this is all over.” Nino gave a sharp nod in confirmation. He watched Rena jump onto the fire escape before turning and beginning to walk away.

“Hey bubbles.” Nino turned to seen Rena Rouge hanging upside down from the landing of the fire escape. He rushed back over, standing before his superhero of a girlfriend.

To kiss her, he had to stand on his toes a little and both their noses bumped into the other’s chin, but it was still the most romantic kiss of Nino’s entire life. They broke apart with another screech from the akuma. “Go kick his ass, babe.” With another quick peck, Rena Rouge flipped herself back upright and raced up the rest of the fire escape.

Nino sighed wistfully as he watched Rena sail off the roof to the tune of her flute. “Mon Dieu, I love that girl.”

Buy me a Coffee?

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Wait for the Moonrise” (10/10) (au)

Summary:  Emma doesn’t remember who she was before she was found in the woods, but she knows that she has a few close friends, a good job, and a loyal cat that greets her every day when she gets home from work. What she doesn’t know, however, is that her past is about to catch up to her in the strangest of ways. She learns quickly that not everything is as it seems, not even her cat.

Rating: E

Content warnings: smutty smut, brief mentions of the loss of a hand

Chapter specific content warnings: some battle-ish stuff at the start, some more happy smut, and hopefully a satisfying ending.

A/N: Just... all my love. I can’t believe it’s over, and this is the last time you’ll be seeing an update for this story. Out of this world, man. All my love to the team of people that helped me through this, and of course to @clockadile for her lovely artwork. And my eternal love to all of you that read, and left comments, and liked and reblogged, and sent me messages. You guys are rockstars. Thank you! x

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |

Catch it on Ao3 or FFN! And catch @clockadile‘s artwork HERE!

Surrounded on all sides by the presence of Dark Ones.

It’s not exactly how Emma would’ve imagined a homecoming, but it’s what she’s getting. Regina is standing steady beside her, holding her arm, but otherwise there’s a fire in her eyes that Emma can’t remember ever seeing in their time as friends.

“You okay?”

“Never better,” the other woman grits out, and there’s an edge that she’s never heard before. Emma raises an eyebrow at her, and the look Regina gives her back is telling more than anything. “Might’ve shaken something loose,” she adds.

When Emma was growing up, stories about her mother’s step-mother were very few and far between. Snow always told the story of how Regina saved her from a runaway horse accident, and how Snow would later betray her on accident by sharing a secret she was never supposed to tell. Emma knew the lore that Snow was framed for Regina’s disappearance when it was thought that Regina killed Snow’s father, and even had to go through high trial for it, but no one could prove anything so the issue was buried and Snow was crowned queen.

Every story about Regina included her fierce tenacity and the strength in her voice, and Emma is seeing all of that right next to her. Her suspicions are further confirmed when the barest hint of a spark emits from Regina’s fingertips. Unlike her own magic, Regina’s is red, reflecting her fiery personality. It’s all extremely fitting to the woman she got to know in Storybrooke.

They both do a visual check of their surroundings. Killian, back to poor Cat, is still trying to pull his leg free from the pile of his clothes. Robin is still mostly unconscious, but he at least winces and curls into a ball, which isn’t the worst sign of life she’s ever seen. They need to wait for the perfect opportunity to strike, but being outnumbered is really putting a damper on any possible plan.

All things considered, Emma figures there are worse ways to die. They’re not going down without a fight, and maybe Killian can run away fast enough. Of course, judging by the way he limps his way over to stand by her feet when he’s finally free, maybe that’s not a possibility. She looks down at him, wishing she could remind him how much she loves him one more time, but turns to face the man that got lost in the power of dark magic, and all the entities that came before him.

She and Regina can at least take out a couple of these guys, maybe at least knock Rumplestiltskin out before succumbing to the dark magic that’s building around them. The electric gathering of their powers actually causes the hair on her body to stand on end, and she’s surprised the hair on her head isn’t following suit.

There’s a moment, a locking of eyes, when they make the decision to strike, and she can tell that she and Regina are on the same page. Emma nods, just barely, and Regina mimics her action, and then Emma’s focusing all her energy and emotions into focal points as she was taught during all her training. They make eye contact one more time and each inhale deeply –

Before they can do it, before they can exhale and blast out their magic, there’s a horn from the north. Less than a heartbeat later, there’s a shell horn blast from the beach they just vacated. The Dark Ones all shift, looking towards each call and looking at each other in disbelief. Rumplestiltskin twitches with each call, his eyes hardening and the smile slipping from his face.

Within moments, the circle of dark entities that had surrounded them starts falling apart. Misthaven fairies burst through the trees, taking out as many as they can with the colorful bursts of their fairy dust. From the opposite side, a force of seafolk with their magic bracelets charge in throwing liquid potions, headed by Ursula herself. They all charge fearlessly, grins on their faces as they attack as they’ve always wanted to. They know their best shot at defeating evil is standing in the clearing and that they have nothing to lose at this point.

“This way!” comes a faint yell, and Emma’s breathing speeds up recognizing Liam’s voice in the distance.

With an elated expression, she turns back to Regina, who seems just as surprised as Emma is. Chaos is erupting around them, the seemingly unbreakable enclosure left with holes and pockets, dark entities trying to run, trying to escape from their fate of returning to nothing but dust. “Now!” Emma urges, knowing they have one shot - one chance to catch Rumple while he’s still thrown off guard.

In the middle of the clearing, Rumple is too distracted by the mayhem that surrounds him to notice that Emma and Regina brace themselves and let their magic loose. Twin blasts hit him at the same time: Emma’s white and Regina’s red wrapping around him in tight spirals. He barely has the time to look upset before he crumples to the ground, drained of his magic and incapacitated.

Around them, the dark entities are also dispatched, the last of which are taken down by fairy dusts, sea potions, and a spill of soldiers that break through into the clearing.

Moments later, the whole area goes quiet but for the heavy breathing of exertion from all involved parties. The centuries of dark ones are nothing but memories, and the last one alive is still knocked out on the ground, bound by magic and officially harmless.

Cat lands on the ground a foot away from Emma’s feet, having clearly taken shelter in a tree when the hubbub started. Robin is pushing himself to his feet, aided by Regina, her magic sweeping over him to heal the wounds he sustained from getting smacked against several trees on the route in.

“Sorry for the swift exit earlier. I needed as much time as I could to rally everyone up.” Ursula steps up to Emma, checking her over for wounds as she whistles for two men to lift the former Dark One from the forest floor. “We will deliver him to your parents immediately. From what I’m to understand, they have a special prison ready for him that will hold him even if his magic comes back.”

She moves away just as quickly to supervise, and it’s only when Cat meows at her again that she realizes that this little problem still needs to be figured out. She lifts him up, whispering reassurances that they’ll fix it as soon as she comes back to the clearing, all the while she finally catches her breath. Rumple is revived and then marched past them, and Cat hisses and swats at the man, making sure to use his blunted paw in an extra attempt to tell the man off as he’s lacking the voice to do so.

“By the way,” Emma starts as she holds out a hand to halt their progress. “The details of your stupid curse landed your maid in a crazy house, so suck on that for a little bit.”

The man looks aghast at this news, and he opens his mouth to object or clarify, but before he can utter a single syllable, Emma snaps his fingers and temporarily snaps his mouth shut. Emma does her best to subdue her own chuckling as she turns away from him. Cat gives her a look of fond approval.

As Ursula walks behind the removal of the prisoner, she clicks her tongue. “I’ll be back in a minute to take care of that,” she says as she nods at Cat. He quietly growls to express his feelings on Ursula’s humor about the situation. Emma pauses her attempts to soothe Cat when she hears a voice she’s not heard in a long time.

“Bloody hell, I don’t believe it.” Liam.

Emma turns, her smile tentative and her eyes shining as she looks at the older Jones. “Hi.”

He marches forward, enveloping her in a strong hug and squishing Cat between them in the process. “God, I always hoped… Emma, good god, you’ve changed so much since I saw you last.” He brackets Emma’s shoulders with his hands, holding her at arm’s length and staring as if he can’t believe his eyes. “I need to see to my men, and we need to get you back to the castle as soon as possible. Are you ready to go?”

“Oh, uh.” She hefts Cat a little bit, unsure of how to even begin to explain why she needs a couple more minutes.

“You’ve got a pet. That’s okay, I’m sure your parents will delight in having a cat to wander the halls and catch mice. Poor lad looks like he’s missing a paw.” Liam reaches out to touch the leg in question, but Cat jerks it away, his ears flattening against his head as he backs away from the older Jones’ hand.

Emma definitely can’t help the snort as Cat burrows against her. “Just – Liam, it’s Killian.”

His face goes dead serious at the mention of his brother, his hand hovering above Cat’s head as the feline glares at it with wide eyes. “Is he here? Where is he?”

She looks down at the cat in her arms, and Cat looks at her before looking back at Liam and giving a defeated sounding meow. Liam tilts his head, looking between Emma and Cat and back again, the puzzle pieces all finally connecting in his mind as obvious by the widening of his eyes.

“Oh. Oh my. Well, we’ll…” He stares at Cat some more. Haltingly, he reaches his hand towards Cat again, but retracts it once more.

“So, how about we break this spell?” Ursula says as she finally returns.

“I don’t have to kiss him as a cat, do I?”

Liam’s laugh borders on hysterical as he observes their interaction, and he makes a weak excuse of having to check on his men again before he wanders away between the trees.

The sea witch chuckles, beckoning Emma to follow her as she stoops to pick up Killian’s clothes and leads her to a patch of privacy. Ursula sets down the clothes, indicating that Emma should put Cat as close to them as possible. She waves her hands, a purple inky magic flowing towards Killian, and she edges away from the clearing before Killian is fully restored.

“Nothing I need to see there,” she comments as she waves over her shoulder. “I’ll be in touch.”

Emma calls out her thanks as she turns back to Killian, who’s just struggling into his boxer briefs. She doesn’t let him get anything else on for the moment, instead launching herself at him. She smiles wide as she kisses him, making it less a kiss and more a pressing of her smile to his as he wraps his arms around her.

“Welcome home, love,” Killian murmurs when he pulls back. “Now, perhaps I can finish getting dressed. Or would you rather I reunite with my brother for the second time in nothing but my smalls?”

“No, no, please. By all means. Better than being in nothing but your fur again,” she comments, scratching under his chin, laughing high and free as Killian swats her on the behind.

As she wanders the clearing, turning in a circle to occupy herself while he slips into his clothes, Emma realizes he’s right; for the first time in three and a half years, she’s home.

-x-

There are too many thoughts going through Killian’s head for him to really keep any of them straight. One: he’s home, back in his homeland, on his own turf, with the woman he loves holding so tight to his hand that he fears she might break it, but he’ll never tell her so. Two: his brother is but a few paces ahead of him, still yet to actually see him as human, still yet to hear his voice since the day he last bumped heads with him. Three: he’s going to see Emma’s parents for the first time since he left their room in a huff like a child. Four: he idly wonders if Snow still has the ring. Five: he also idly wonders if David will rescind his blessings when he sees what Killian has become.

He stumbles over a tree root, and Emma looks back at him curiously, noting the scowl on his face and asking without words if he’s okay. He nods, trying to wipe his expression clean and smile at her at the same time.

Truth is, he’s not okay. This is the culmination of the last three and a half years and he doesn’t know whether he should be smug or scared.

Scared seems to be the emotion his insides settle on, but he layers on the smarm in hopes of saving face when the king and queen throw him out of the throne room as soon as he enters. Out of nerves, he rubs the curve of his hook against the leg of his trousers. While his clothes are still the ones he wore when he left Storybrooke, and he has the satchel of clothes slung over his shoulder, he was able to retrieve his hook and brace from the chest that Ursula fetched for him. Someone already dispatched with the rest of the items, surely throwing them in a prison cell for him to look at as he’s locked up for treason.

Again, Emma reaches for him and squeezes his hand. They’ve reached the castle gates, and he feels half of his heart settle from coming home. The other half is already calm, already recognizing its home next to him, holding his hand.

Liam is gone from sight by the time they enter, and Killian flinches as the full fanfare is blasted out from the horns as they walk through the corridor into the throne room. The castle residents and employees line the rug that runs the center of the room, and the king and queen are each sitting in their respective thrones. Their hands are clasped in the distance between the seats, but neither of them stay that way for long. As soon as they see Emma, their only daughter, truly striding towards them, they’re both up and off their chairs and rushing forward.

Out of habit, Killian immediately puts his arms behind his back after he sets the satchel by his feet. He’s not sure if the habit is more from his upbringing or from hiding his vacant wrist from others, though. He stops, even as Emma continues forward and runs to them. They make the picture of perfect royal family, and he’s sure he’ll only taint it if he goes closer. Regina comes to stand by his shoulder, looking on at the scene in front of them, with Robin standing just behind her.

“How are you holding up, pirate?” When he turns his head and raises an eyebrow, she just shrugs. “Emma told me as much as she could at breakfast that day. You have the posture of one who is skulking, so I figured that’s what you would be preferred to be addressed as.”

“Hook, I go by Hook to my crew.”

Same as Emma, Regina’s lips quirk up and she snorts once, very elegantly, before trying to stifle it. “Captain Hook?”

“Bloody hell,” he whispers, shooting her a look before he turns and stalks away. He figures that there’s enough commotion in the room that no one will notice him missing, in any case. Using his memory as a guide, he finds the small door at the back corner of the room, ducking through and ending up in a narrow servants’ hall. He means to amble his way back out the doors, honestly, because while he loves Emma and wants nothing more than to be with her, he would never make her choose between him and her family.

He’s so lost in his own head that he doesn’t notice someone stepping in front of him until he’s already running into him, and he struggles for a second as the arms come around him. He almost buries his hook into the shoulder he can reach but it all hits him at once. The man is Liam, and he is embracing him so hard that Killian is sure he’ll have bruises around his shoulders.

“You stupid bloody arse,” Liam mutters into his shoulder, and Killian is only aware his brother is crying because he can feel the moisture soaking through the collar of his shirt. “Stupid, stupid, telling us you were dead.” He pulls back, his eyes still wet but his face a mixture of heartache and elation. “Come, we have much to talk about, little brother.”

“Younger brother,” Killian automatically snaps back, his voice the same whine as it was all through his adolescence. It’s clearly what Liam was aiming for, as his bark of laughter echoes down the hallway.

“Come this way,” he instructs, leading Killian back to their wing of the castle. Liam walks him through the door to Killian’s old room, which is still exactly the way he left it minus the new hinges. The surfaces are devoid of dust, the bed is freshly made, and there are flowers in a vase by the very window he left through. He wonders just how many flowers have actually sat in that vase since he left. “There’s a matching bouquet in Emma’s quarters,” Liam says softly, noticing exactly where Killian’s gaze is drawn.

“All this time?”

“Every other week, Queen Snow comes in and replaces them, and sees personally to the maintenance of the room.”

“Are these from the meadow?”

Instead of answering, Liam just nods, a small smile left and much more sadness in his eyes. “The whole field has been preserved with magic specifically so she could tend to your rooms.” He pauses, taking a deep breath before he continues. “Brother, I have missed you. At least when you were running from me I knew you were okay, but when you told that boy to inform us of your death, I spent months in mourning. Until one day, I woke up and decided you weren’t really dead.”

“Should’ve known you’d be too clever to fall for it completely,” Killian comments. He tries to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible, but he focuses on the flowers in front of him, careful to keep his eyes clear and his voice steady.

“I followed your stops. I described you to every innkeep and bar wench I could find. I followed you to the End of the World, but the woman I ran into said she’d never met anyone named Killian. Halfway through our conversation, she got whisked away by the devil himself. I entered every port hoping to find your ship, and you alive on it. And after that interaction with the Dark One’s maid, I mentally prepared myself to bring a body home if you hadn’t been dumped at sea. I lost your trail until I ended up in Midas’ kingdom and ran into a little friend you’d made along the way. A mermaid named Ariel was very difficult to convince to tell me you’d seen her, but when I explained I was your brother, she told me you’d confessed that Captain Hook was Killian Jones. And my search renewed. I don’t think I stopped sailing for weeks.”

It’s so much to take in. His brother had gone to the literal ends of the earth for him, trying to find him, never giving up hope. After their last interaction, he assumed it would be to aim again with that cannon, but no, it turns out he just wanted his brother back home.

“I do want you to recall that you shot a cannon at me,” Killian says, as if reminding Liam of this incident will change anything.

“Aye, but you were being a wanker. I pretty much had to.”

Killian snorts, mentally agreeing with his brother but shrugging his shoulders in response.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for neglecting you for so long as my brother.”

“Accepted. I’m sorry for not telling you about Emma and I sooner. And for stealing your prized ship.”

“I hope you’ve kept all my belongings intact.”

“Everything is stowed in the back of the closets in the captain’s quarters. So, Belle got transported a couple months ago. Why did no one ever manage to find Emma?”

“We kept sending bloody emissaries to the land you were in. I had no idea you were a cat that whole time. You’ll have to regale me with those tales once you’ve had a chance to breathe again.” He pauses, barely restraining the snort that he emits. “Tales of tails,” he muses quietly. At the glare Killian shoots his way, he rushes onward. “And tell me about these interesting clothes you’re wearing, as well. And the hook, of course.”

Killian ignores everything else, skipping straight over the cat joke in favor of the first thing Liam said. “Emissaries? When?”

“Shortly after Ariel told us that Ursula had sent you over. We appealed to the giants for beans to send someone over to fetch you, but he never returned.”

Killian turns from the vase, his eyes focusing in confusion on his brother. “And what happened when he never returned?”

“We appealed to the giants for two more beans, and sent two emissaries. After they never returned either, we could only figure they were being captured, or killed. Something was happening to keep our people from finding you and coming back.”

“The portals, they’ve been enchanted to cause memory loss. The Dark One had it rigged so the moment a person went through it, they’d forget who they were. The curse would build fake memories in layers as the person got acclimated. I only avoided all of that by going through the waterways.”

“Well, it’s good to have you back. Even if you are a little unkempt for my taste,” the older man says appraisingly. Killian huffs out a laugh, running his hand through the much shorter hair and rubs his neck. He’s a far cry from naval regulations, but he’s not sure he can ever grow his hair that long again, feeling himself a lad if he did. “Okay, I’ve taken up quite a bit of time with you. Let’s get you back to the king and queen so they might give you a proper greeting.”

“Oh, Liam, no –“

“No, they insist. I assure you. I believe the queen has something of yours?”

Killian’s eyes go wide.

“Yes, she kept that, too. And still wants it where her ring currently resides.” Liam gives him a significant look at that comment, and tells Killian he’ll be waiting outside while Killian freshens up.

“Liam, wait.” His brother pauses halfway to the door and turns to him. “There’s one more thing we’ll need to discuss when we have the chance.”

“And that is?”

“It turns out we aren’t orphans after all.”

With wide eyes, Liam turns fully to Killian, his jaw working several times before he’s able to get any words out. “Father?”

“Not lost at sea, apparently. He looks very spry and happy, but he had no idea who I was, so he’ll need to have the curse broken from him. The whole town will. They deserve to know who they are.”

There’s a whole line of emotions that flickers across Liam’s face in the deep breaths that follow Killian’s words. There’s turmoil in his eyes, and a sadness that distinctly reminds Killian of the way his mother looked when she was told that Brennan wouldn’t be returning from his latest voyage. Maybe it’s that last one that hurts the most, because it’s a pain she never should’ve had to go through. This is yet another way that the Dark One injured his family, even if he didn’t know it at the time. He’s even happier now, knowing that man will never tear apart another family.

“I agree, brother. We’ll discuss that more in the morning. I know he’s cursed and all, but this is excellent news.” He beams at Killian, nodding again and taking his leave while Killian turns toward his wash basin.

The chest, it turns out, was delivered right to his room, and while he pulls everything out, he only fastens his earring in place, and slides on a couple of the less ornate rings he acquired during his time as a pirate. His hand glides over the various articles made of leather that wait inside, but he only finds the ribbon he stashed in his coat pocket, sliding it through his fingers before slipping it into a pocket of his jeans. Everything else gets left behind as he uses the lavatory and splashes his face with cool water. He damns the length of time it would take him to rim his eyes in kohl, but shrugs at his reflection before going to join Liam for the walk back to the throne room.

Liam, however, turns towards the king and queen’s private quarters, and Killian knows without a doubt that the first place he sees them again will be the place he last saw them. He has to stop himself from laying his hand over his chest, unable to physically restrain his heart from beating right out of its cavity if it so chooses.

-x-

Everything is a bit of a whirlwind as soon as Emma enters the throne room. Seeing her parents, her mom and dad (funny how Storybrooke left more of an impression than she thought) just ahead of her, all she can do is rush to them. And while there’s still a lag in her memories, so that it doesn’t feel like she’s waited three and a half years for this moment, she also recognizes that it wasn’t just yesterday they last embraced. Snow cries, her chin crumpled and quivering as the tears fall from her eyes, and David cradles the back of her head the way he’s done for as long as she can remember.

After getting to witness the happy reunion, the small crowd in the large room disperses to allow the royal family their privacy. Soon, it’s just her parents in front of her. She looks around to see that Killian has slipped away, but Regina and Robin are still there, awkwardly shuffling and casting quick glances at the guards still at their posts.

As if thinking of the other people in the room brings attention to them, she hears Snow gasp as she looks over Emma’s shoulder.

“Regina?”

“Hi… Snow. Queen Snow.” Regina is stiff, but smiling, and she walks forward a few steps toward the woman now older than she was when she disappeared. “This whole royal business suits you.” She waves her hand to indicate the room they’re in and everything it entails.

“You’re not - are you…?” Snow works to gather her words. “You look so young.”

“That’s what happens when you end up in a cursed town where time stands still for a few decades or so.” She shrugs, shuffling forward a couple more steps. “Look, Snow, we don’t have to stay…”

“Nonsense,” Snow says quickly, striding forward to take Regina’s hands. “I think it’ll do us some good to work this all out. We’ll set you up with rooms in the east wing.” Her statements leave no room for argument, and Regina gives a curt nod, but adds a smile to soften it a bit. “While they set up a room for you, why don’t we all go sit and you can tell us a bit about… everything.”

The reunited royal family makes their way to Snow and David’s quarters, with Emma’s arms looped with theirs, and Regina and Robin close behind. Upon entering their sitting room, she almost cries at the familiar scent, and she knows if she doesn’t keep going, doesn’t keep talking and immersing herself back into this world, that she will break down, but there’s no time for that. And it’s nothing her parents need to witness. Tonight, later tonight, when she’s alone with Killian again, she’ll allow herself the time to process all of it. Provided he doesn’t find a way to flee the castle or something.

“You’re so skinny,” Snow murmurs as she observes Emma wandering around the space. “I mean just, so skinny. Did you ever eat while you were gone?”

“I worked as a cop. I spent a lot of time at the gym and the rest of the time eating pizza.” At their blank looks, she shakes her head and smiles. “You guys would like pizza.”

David makes some soft comment about her referring to them as ‘you guys’ and smiles. “Twenty years of etiquette training down the drain,” he mutters with a fond expression on his face, directed at Emma.

She grins at him in response, wandering wider to look at the flowers her mother has displayed. She can sense the magic on them, and recognizes them from the field that should be barren and cold this time of year. Her fingers glide along a perfectly preserved petal as she sighs.

Even as she strolls about the room, she listens to the conversation her parents have with Regina. They both seem to be handling her reappearance better than she expected. But the former regent makes it perfectly clear almost immediately that decades as Regina in Storybrooke have erased much of the anger and malice that went along with being the Evil Queen in Misthaven. She also makes sure to introduce Robin, who hasn’t quite regained his true memories, but small tidbits keep shining through for him.

“I don’t feel as if I’m home yet, but I’m hoping my former memories will return soon,” he explains. He also tells them that it helps that he was actually transplanted into the fake town only weeks before Killian was, all because he tripped into the wrong place at the wrong time.

It’s not long before a maid comes to inform them that their room is ready, and Snow and David bid the other two goodnight with promises to talk more tomorrow, after everyone has had some rest.

And then, Emma is left alone with her parents.

On the morning she disappeared, Emma wondered a lot of things, the first of which was whether or not she’d ever see her family again. She didn’t have much time to organize the rest of her thoughts because she was immediately thrown through a portal and forgot her whole life roughly three steps later.

“So,” Snow breaks the silence, “tell us what you’ve been up to the last couple years. Memory curse, right? We used to have those around here all the time until Regina – the Evil Queen version of her – disappeared.”

“They’re so confusing,” Emma confesses, having spent a few days with alternating realities battling it out in her mind and memories. “How many sets of memories do you guys have if they were so common?”

Snow and David look at each other, before they look away again in thought. Snow holds up her hands to count on her fingers while David stares at the ceiling, squinting, as if picturing each different lifetime.

“We’ll just assume a lot,” David finally says, especially when Snow looks like she’s contemplating taking off a slipper to keep counting.

Still, it helps that her parents have been through something like this before, so she opens up and tells them about how she ended up in the forest, and how she made friends in town quickly. She tells them about her job and her hobbies and all the idiosyncrasies of Storybrooke, spending a great length of time on things like indoor plumbing and electricity. And grilled cheese, she can’t leave out grilled cheese.

Several times, Emma has to remind herself to sit still, instead of sprawling across the chair like she would if she were in the sheriff’s station. As it is, she spends plenty of time explaining the clothing she’s wearing, telling her parents all about jeans and sweaters. She realizes she looks utterly out of place in this world as she’s dressed right now, but they’re more curious than confused or put off about it.

She tells them all about Cat showing up on her doorstep, and about when he first changed back into Killian, and how the last six months they’d done little else but focus on getting her memories back. She decides it’s better not to tell them what they were doing any time they weren’t focusing on their mission, though.

“How did you remember?” David asks. “There’s not much that can break a memory curse like that.”

“True Love’s Kiss,” Emma tells them, as if there was any doubt it could be anything else.

Snow sighs dreamily. “Sounds awfully familiar, if you ask me.”

The equal amounts of surprise and pride in her parents’ eyes is comforting, and well-timed when there’s a knock on the door. The guard on duty opens it, and Emma’s smile brightens as she sees the Jones brothers on the other side. Liam leads, with Killian ducking behind him, both of them with their hands held behind their backs. Killian’s clothes may be modern, but his mannerisms are the same as ever.

It’s an obvious contrast from the ease of his actions in her apartment. Even when she didn’t know who he was, she was used to the cocky swagger he exhibited in those short bursts of time. Reconciling Captain Hook (which she still has to control herself from laughing about) with Lieutenant Jones is still a little like playing with a paper doll, as far as her memories are concerned. The man that stands behind his brother is more lieutenant, but with prominent facial hair and a nervous scowl if she’s reading him correctly.

“It’s good to see you again, Princess. Would you care to take a walk with me?” Liam doesn’t waste any time, and judging by the ambushed look on Killian’s face, he had no idea this was a plan.

“I’d love to, Commodore.” Emma rises from the chair. She goes over to wish her parents a good night, kissing them both on the cheek and accepting their tight embraces before she moves toward the brothers. She immediately forgets any princess decorum as she reaches for Killian, giving him a solid kiss on the lips and pressing her forehead to his as she tries to instill some of her calm onto him. “I’ll meet you in my quarters in half an hour, okay?” He nods in response, giving her a wan smile as she moves away.

Liam smiles at her, giving a bow and holding out his arm for her to take before they leave the room. It’s only once they’re out of the sitting room and the door is shut behind them, and they’re halfway down the hall when one of them speaks again.

“Do you suppose we’ve just fed him to lions?” Liam questions.

“Nah, he’ll be fine. Guy lost a hand and became a cat and somehow managed to steal the Jewel of the Realm from you,” she jibes. “Pretty sure he can handle his future in-laws.”

Liam laughs as loud as she remembers. “Oh, how I have missed you, Princess. But I must correct you. It’s no longer Commodore. I’ve decided to retire and settle a little bit. Maybe find a life outside the navy.” Now that she gets a good look at him, she realizes he’s not in the regulation navy uniform. Gone are the white trousers and ornate coat. Instead, he’s dressed in plain black breeches and a white shirt, looking more informal than she’s ever seen him before.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’ve been told that I was so focused on my career that I seemed to have forgotten about my family. Since I’ve lost a lot of time with my brother, I want to correct that as much as possible. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll also find a family of my own since my dear brother seems to have found one in you.”

“He would’ve shared with you sooner, you know. But he was so worried you’d think he was throwing away his career.”

“I would’ve. I didn’t understand at the time. I didn’t understand until I was afraid you were both gone from my life forever.” He stops for a moment, turning to her and placing his hands on her upper arms. “As tragic as your kidnapping was, Princess, it helped me see that I was missing too much by being out there. I only worked as hard in the beginning because I wanted to pay your parents for the debt of taking us in. They didn’t have to, but they gave us shelter, they took Killian under their wing, they let us be part of all of your lives.”

Emma moves her hands to clasp his arms at the elbows. “It was just as rich of an experience for me. I’m sure my parents feel the same way, and I wouldn’t be here again if it weren’t for Killian.”

“And I don’t think Killian would be here if it weren’t for you,” he responds without hesitation.

They walk all the way to the other end of the castle, meandering back at a leisurely pace in order to give Killian plenty of time to talk with the king and queen, and since Killian hadn’t had much of a chance to tell Liam about his animal adventures, she gives him little bits of information. Mostly she tells him about how she called him Cat, and that his missing paw went a long way into convincing her that he wasn’t some crazy person spouting nonsense about being her pet.

“Speaking of hands,” Liam adds once they’ve almost reached her quarters. “He does seem to be missing one. But that just means you’ll be offering him one of yours now, yes?”

Emma smiles, deciding not to answer even though Liam clearly knows she’ll say yes if Killian asks. “Goodnight, Liam.”

“Goodnight, Princess. By the way, you should know I’ll be on duty as guard for the first half of the night. I want to make sure neither of you go anywhere after we’ve just gotten you back.” He smiles to show he’s joking, but then he purses his lips a little. “But I’ll be way down that end. Just in case.”

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, her smile growing wider as she understands the implications. “Goodnight, Liam.”

He chuckles, even as he walks away.

Entering her room is an otherworldly experience. The quiet and stillness is almost unbearable after having lived with technology and automobiles for the last three years. But everything in the room is pristine, the bed made to her usual specifications. There’s a large vase of flowers on the table by her chaise lounge, and she recognizes almost immediately that they’re the same flowers her mother displays. She admires them for a moment, but moves on in order to do something that’s more important.

Every window, every door to her private terrace, every conceivable entry into the room is swiftly reinforced with magic of her own making. She would’ve been powerless to almost anything the morning she was taken, but now she can ensure that once she and Killian shut the doors for the evening, no one else will be able to even budge a hinge without blaring alarms sounding in the whole castle.

“Thank you, security systems,” she mutters as she draws all the curtains closed and snaps her fingers to light the candles spread throughout the room. She might miss lightbulbs, but there is a charm to being able to light and extinguish any candle with just a small gesture.

Having been promised their privacy, there are no maids to dress her for the evening. It’s fine, though, because what would they do? Strip off her sweater? Peel the jeans from her skin? No, and while it sounds incredibly appealing to leave that job for Killian, she has other ideas. She uses the basin in her washroom to freshen up, tying her hair into a messy bun after she washes her face and brushes her teeth. Then she wanders into her closet and undresses, leaving her modern clothes on the floor for the time being.

Her fingers run along all the different delicate fabrics in her closet. Even the cotton has a better consistency. She passes by each section of gowns and attire, finding her way to the very back and grinning at what she finds. Black corset, with black skirts.

He’ll either love the throwback, or he’ll run screaming from the room. But either way, she has to. She just has to.

-x-

Bloody hell, this is worse than an overnight siege, Killian decides the second Liam asks if Emma would like to go for a walk. He’s just been handed over to something worse than pirates, in his opinion. He’s been fed to the king and queen, holders of his ultimate fate.

He’s being dramatic and he knows it.

They’re all quiet, and he has no idea if they’re waiting for him to speak first, or if he’s going to have to wait ages for them to deem him worthy of their voices. He doesn’t have to wait long; just as he opens his mouth to say anything, David suddenly stands up.

“You stole one of our ships.”

As soon as the clipped words are out of his mouth, Snow sighs. The exasperated noise is one he’s all too familiar with, especially paired with her quiet words of “Oh, David,” that her husband mostly ignores except for the clenching of his jaw.

Killian swallows, glancing between the two of them and taking note of Snow’s encouraging smile before he responds. “I paid for it.”

“You terrorized the rest of my fleet.”

“Not for very long,” Killian counters. It’s not a lie; he did stop antagonizing the Misthaven Navy after the day Liam shot at him.

“We didn’t make unreasonable demands,” David says, his demeanor cracking with the simplicity of the statement.

“Not unreasonable for you, perhaps.”

“But for you? What was so bad about what we were asking you to do? In this family, we work as a team -”

“Aye, a team. And every suggestion I made was thrown out the window before it could be considered. If you haven’t noticed, your majesty, your daughter is back and darkness has been defeated because I followed the path that called to me. My demands were simple. I wanted to be seen as the man that wanted to marry your daughter. Not just another body that served the crown.”

“I didn’t - we never…” David throws his hands in the air and moves away from his usual perch, pacing around to the back of their chairs and back again. “Okay. I’m sorry we ever let you feel that way. But now you’re back. Will you continue your life of piracy?”

Killian considers this statement. He always thought he would bring Emma home and go on his way, thinking she wouldn’t be capable of loving the man he became. Now that she’s back, and she does love him, it’s hard to say what he’ll do with his life.

“I don’t know,” Killian admits. He pulls his arms around to fiddle with his hook. The fact that neither of them even flinch at the metal attached to the brace at the end of his arm is reassuring. “Your majesty, with all respect, a life of taking orders isn’t something I believe myself to be made for anymore. I’m willing to give up the lawless life under very obvious circumstances, but I don’t see myself stepping back into the war room to be your strategist again.”

David grumbles, crossing his arms and wandering to the window to stare out at the darkened courtyard outside.

Snow, who has largely remained silent during this whole exchange, clears her throat to command his attention. “We don’t want to ask you to do anything that isn’t in your heart, Killian. And you’re right, we often set aside your perspective because we were too wrapped up in our own. Sometimes, sharing a heart gets in the way of listening to others,” she admits. David, sighs, moving to stand behind her chair and placing his hands on her shoulders. “You were always like a son to us. Emma would’ve grown up all alone if it weren’t for you, and getting to see you both mature, and then slowly fall in love, was like watching a fairy tale come to life. You still love her?”

“Aye, more now than ever,” Killian admits with no hesitation. The king and queen have a wordless conversation before Snow focuses back on him.

“What we do want,” Snow continues, “is for you to be part of our lives. Now, I believe I have something to return to you.” She stands, coming forward and reaching into her skirts to retrieve a small pouch.

“I kept it polished for you,” she tells him.

“And I made sure she didn’t polish it too much or else the band would be a half moon at this point,” David adds on. A smile is just barely visible in his eyes, just beneath the never ending affection for his wife.

Snow tumbles the ring into his hand from the upturned pouch, and he marvels at how it gleams. Still, after all these years, it looks like the perfect selection for Emma.

“All other discussions can wait until morning,” Snow reminds him as she closes his fingers around the ring. She reaches up and hugs him, her arms just as familiar as he remembers them. “Welcome home,” she whispers once, before she moves away. She reaches for David’s hand as she passes him, squeezing it once and smiling at him before she bids them both goodnight.

Left alone with David, Killian is unsure what to do. He bows, thinking that the king will leave it there, but David moves around the chair that’s standing between them and stops when he’s a yard away from Killian.

“Because I still need to say it, Killian, thank you for bringing Emma back alive. Talk of piracy and stealing ships aside, there’s no way I could ever repay you for that one act.” Without warning, David moves forward and gives Killian a hug. He slaps the former lieutenant on the back a few times before moving away again. “Goodnight, Killian.”

Feeling lighter than he has in years, Killian walks the familiar path from the king and queen’s quarters to Emma’s rooms. He passes Liam on the way, this time not hesitating to initiate a bear hug with him. Even while growing up, he got all his embraces from the staff or the queen, or Emma who hugged him best of all. He’s lost over three years of the ability to hug his brother, on top of all the years Liam wasn’t around.

For some reason, as he eases towards the door at the end of the hall, that’s when the nerves hit. He’s sure the lead in his stomach won’t allow him to move further, but he manages to push open the door, shaking off a chill of magic when he turns to close it. Clearly, Emma is not joking around with security measures this time. He locks the door out of habit, walking through the antechamber and putting out candles as he goes. He enters her bedroom and closes that door, as well, intent on finding Emma.

His attention is immediately brought to the bouquet of flowers on the table, and Killian realizes it’s where the breakfast tray sat the day Emma went missing. He’s just about to fall down another hole of memories and thankfulness for being back, when Emma clears her throat.

It’s like a startling moment of déjà vu, with Emma spread across the comforter, smile in place. Her hair is all pulled up, leaving the lines of her décolletage exposed. She’s in the corset and skirts from their first night together, her legs crossed just so to hide her privates. He bites his lip against the devilish smile he knows is on his face.

“This all seems a bit familiar,” Killian says as he saunters forward. Years of experience don’t have him as shaky or unsure of what to do next, but he wants to let her lead tonight.

“A few things have changed,” Emma responds, smirk in place, fluttering her eyelashes in a coy manner.

She acts demure, but he knows better. “For the love of all the ships in the realm, please tell me you brought condoms back with you.”

Instead of a response, she shifts off the bed, gliding towards him with the sheer shirts swirling around her legs. At the same time, she waves her hand, and a line of the foil packets appears in her hand. “They were stashed in my coat pocket. Just in case.”

“Always good to be prepared for every eventuality.”

“Just kiss me already,” Emma says, chuckling as she does. She twists a hand into the fabric of his waistcoat and pulls him to her, their lips meeting somewhere in the middle as their arms wrap around each other. He turns his hook so it won’t catch on the delicate materials, but doesn’t hesitate to palm her backside, feeling the warmth of her skin just beneath the fabric.

Piece by piece, she strips the clothes from his body, leaving the brace and his boxer-briefs for last. She’s seen him without his brace before; that’s not what bothers him. But this is her first time seeing it on. As if to reassure him, she draws her hands down his arms, linking one hand with his fingers and grasping his hook with the other.

“I love you, Killian Jones, Captain Hook, thankfully no longer Cat.”

He ducks his head to kiss her, something simple and momentary before he responds. “I can confidently say that I love you, Emma Swan, Princess of Misthaven, Deputy of Storybrooke.”

Her whole face lights up with her smile, her eyes crinkling as she releases hand and hook so she can pluck at the waistband of his underwear. “How about losing these, and loosening my laces?”

“Surely you secured this with magic, Swan. Why delay by asking for help?” She’s in the process of turning away from him, so he takes advantage to wind his arm around her middle and pull her back to him. “In case I forgot to say so, darling, you look divine in this.” He uses the tip of his hook to draw her hair off her neck, enjoying the way her breath stutters as she shifts into his erection. Her whimpering moans when he kisses down the side of her neck are also pleasurable. The sharp cry of his name with at least three expletives following is the real treasure, though, when he bites and soothes with teeth and tongue.

She loses her patience after that, finding the ties to her skirts and practically ripping them off as she moves far enough away for him to access the back of the corset. He doesn’t tease her any longer, instead pulling at the knot and loosening the laces just enough for her to be able to unclasp it without discomfort.

Emma, he’s forgotten, looks stunning in candlelight. But he gets to remember as they come together again and again, until the flames in the room all extinguish on their own and the only light left comes from what’s left of the fire in the hearth. Only then do they settle, their bodies sated, their adrenaline all spent, and no threats looming over them in the near future.

Killian is jostled awake by movement next to him. Apparently, he’s been a little spoiled by Emma’s memory foam mattress back in Storybrooke. Turns out the land without magic does have a few tricks up its sleeve. It's entirely too early to be awake. The sun isn't yet peeking above the horizon, if the back of his eyelids are anything to go by. A dip in the bed this time is what alerts him to Emma’s movements, and he cracks open an eye to watch her climb from the bed.

“Swan,” he grumbles, trying to reach for her as she stands.

“I’ll be right back,” she tells him, bending to retrieve his shirt from the floor.

“It’s too early. Come back, love.”

“I wanna go down and grab us breakfast. No matter how many times everyone kept telling us that we would talk today, I plan on bringing back enough food so we can barricade that door and stay here for at least a day or two.” As she finishes fastening the buttons, she tosses a saucy look over her shoulder. “I wanna make up for some lost time.” She bends to lift his jeans, but Killian practically leaps from the bed to snatch them up.

“Now, Swan, it’s your first day back to your homeland. Don’t you suppose we should at least swing through and say good morning?” He eases the pants from her hands, anxious to keep the pockets upright as he does so. He half-folds them, placing them down on the chaise before he moves forward to pull her close by tugging the tail of the shirt. “Of course, when you look like that, I’m hesitant to let you leave at all.”

“This early? No one will be up. No one in the kitchen. No one snooping around wondering why I have a beautiful set of teeth marks on my neck that I want to leave for just a little longer before I heal them.”

Releasing the fabric, Killian slides his hand down until it rests at the juncture between her thighs. Emma gasps, pressing closer to him as one of his fingers slide inside her. “I’ll let you go, but in just a moment, and only once I’ve watched you fall apart. Deal?” The words are a husky whisper, delivered straight to her ear, and she shivers against him.

“Hell yeah, it’s a deal.” She yanks his head down none too gently to kiss him again, and it doesn’t take long for her voice to rise in pitch and volume, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she clutches on. He suspects that grip and his left arm clamped around her lower back are the only things keeping her upright. He hopes that no one is still keeping guard down the hall, or that Emma placed some sort of sound-proofing on the barrier she put around the room, as the lack of upstairs and downstairs neighbors allows her the freedom to call his name without restraint, her triumphant call of “Yes!” echoing off the stone walls.

“Okay,” Killian says, still catching his own breath as Emma collapses in his arms, “now we can go get breakfast.”

She laughs in response. “Oh, sure. Now that I’m torn between dragging you back to that bed to sleep off that orgasm or cause a couple more.” She half-heartedly smacks his arm and kisses him soundly once again. “Let me get some pants on or something.”  

The satchel, it turns out, had been delivered to her room, which he failed to notice when he entered the night before. When Emma wanders from the bedroom to find a fresh change of clothes, Killian scoops his jeans from the chaise and slips them on before digging the ring from the pocket. He’s waited three and a half years for this moment. There’s no time like the present.

When Emma walks back in, Killian is on his knee, his eyes trained on the door so as not to be caught off guard. They smile at each other, even with two yards between them.

As they sneak through the halls towards the kitchen, she’s wearing his shirt and his ring. They leave a note for her parents outside her parents’ quarters, addressed to Snow, with her ring inside. The Queen wisely informs everyone that they’ll postpone the homecoming breakfast until the following morning as she slides the peridot back onto her ring finger.

-x-

“What I’m saying is that the Dark One’s memory curse on the town is wearing off, and these people are freaking out.”

They’re all seated around the large table in the war room, with Ursula in attendance to explain the after-effects of finally dispersing the Darkness. It turns out, Ursula has been keeping tabs on Storybrooke for a long time to make sure nothing was going wrong with the Dark One’s cursed town. But like a sea witch, she’s kept all of her information to herself until now.

It’s been three days since they broke Emma’s memory curse, since they defeated the total darkness that was threatening to destroy more and more families. While they’ve been trying to find some semblance of normalcy since returning to Misthaven, it’s clear that they’re not done with Storybrooke yet, just as the town is not done with them. Emma’s thoughts have wandered to the little home she’s grown fond of more times than she can count, lost in the memories of sidewalks beneath her feet, snow catching on her eyelashes under the fairy lights outside Granny’s diner.

“What do you propose we do, have the merfolk bring them all back here in shifts?” This suggestion from Killian isn’t the worst thing Emma’s ever heard, but it’s not exactly the best solution.

“Some of those people have been there for decades,” Regina comments. “Maybe even longer. We questioned Rumplestiltskin about the town, and he says he’s been using it for at least three hundred years. He got mad at a village for making fun of his name, of all things, so he transported the whole thing to this other land.” She rolls her eyes as she talks, clearly expressing her exasperation with cleaning up after this man.

Robin, having regained his own memories, has been instrumental in helping Regina compile all the data on the fake town that has served as its own prison for centuries. “The curse was so layered that it eventually learned on its own. It’s the strangest thing, but if it were younger, they probably would have all transported back automatically once his magic stopped feeding the spell. As it is, the town has become a source of magic on its own, in a land completely devoid of magical sources. The good thing seems to be that portals won’t strip travelers of their memories anymore. We’ll have to send another emissary to be sure, of course.”

“Because magic beans are so easy to come by?” Emma asks skeptically. Last she heard, it takes an arm and a leg to get ahold of one of those. Mentally, she berates herself, and reaches for Killian’s hook on her right. Thoughts of what he’d look like in a soft flannel shirt, a cozy wool sweater, matching socks, run through her head. She glances at him to catch his eye, smiling when he winks at her, and almost misses what her father is saying.

“Actually, portals might be easier than you think. We made a deal with the giants while we were trying to get to Storybrooke. They’re going to open up a trading post. It took a lot of persuading, but we did them a favor by sharing some magic from the fairies with them, so they can come to land and take part in human spoils whenever they’d like. It looks like we’ve found peace in another area of this world.”

“That’s great,” Ursula mentions, probably because that means her human transportation business will finally dwindle again, but she doesn’t stop there. “But if some of these people have been trapped there for centuries, there’s no way they’ll want to return. Storybrooke is the only home they know. Their families are long gone.”

“Well, we could always establish this town as another sector of Misthaven. I know the town, and all the townspeople. I don’t ever remember actually seeing a mayor, which means the chain of command was probably all part of the curse. They’ll need leadership. What else is a defunct regent going to do with her time?” Regina mutters the part, but in that flippant way she’s so good at. “The politics over there work a little differently, but I’d like to return to Storybrooke and run for their mayor.”

Regina and Snow branch off to discuss the fine details of what would go along with mayorship of a town as an extension of Misthaven. If any two people can figure out a good way to make this all work, it’s those two. Weird to think that her mother and step-grandmother have such a relationship and history, when Emma only knew her as her best friend.

The memory of Regina bumping into her in the hallway and claiming they weren’t besties makes her grin, especially since they went right on solidifying their friendship. Perhaps Rumple never anticipated how close they would become, and how instrumental they would both be in his downfall. The idea of Regina leaving, however, almost makes her sad. She wouldn’t expect things to stay the same after the turmoil they’ve all been through, but how is she to go on living in Misthaven when she feels like she belongs somewhere else?

Between the homecoming celebrations and her own quiet time with Killian, talks about what they’ll do now have been sparse, few between, and almost non-existent. She’s not told Killian about how she stares out the windows sometimes and wishes she could pop over to Granny’s and grab a hot chocolate. She actually misses work. Emma knows she’s going to be met with resistance, but the decision is easy for her. “I want to return, too.”

All conversation ceases around her, with every set of eyes turning to stare at her with varying expressions. Her parents look shell-shocked, Regina looks confused, and Killian just looks… well, like he knows exactly where her mind is. This should come as no surprise since he knows her so well.

“But Emma -”

“But nothing,” she cuts off David. “It’s nothing compared to decades or centuries, but I’ve been there for three years. I love my job, I like my friends. My life is there. If magic beans are readily available, then we can visit any time?” It comes out as a question no matter how hard she tries to make it a statement.

“We can?” Killian says, purely to tease. She hasn’t gotten around to telling him just how much she already misses electricity and grilled cheese sandwiches. The cooks tried for her yesterday, but it just wasn’t the same. The easy smile on his face further tells her he already knows, and the usual look in his eyes says he will follow her to the ends of the earth if she asks.

“We can,” she reasserts, moving her hand to squeeze his forearm when he gives her a nod. “And you could visit us,” Emma states, looking at her parents. David, poor David, looks devastated at the idea of his princess leaving again. They just got her back and she’s already talking about leaving. Snow, however, looks like she’s considering it, and Emma knows if she can get her mother on her side, they can both convince her father that it’s a sound idea.

“The sooner we figure this out, the better,” Ursula reminds them. “There are people in that town that are panicking because they want to get home with their families. We need to either get them back to where they belong without draining my resources, or we need to get them calmed down.”

“How about you take us back with you when you go again? I’ll even help make a spell that will use a little less of your own magic so you can transport us easily.” Regina pushes back from the table, standing and preparing to make her accord.

They seal their agreement with a shake of their hands, rather than a signed contract. The fact that deals can be made without there being a hefty price or threat of punishment on the side is probably the best part of Rumplestiltskin being locked up in a magical cage in their dungeons. Once Regina and Robin have left the room to go pack their belongings, Ursula and the rest of the major council disperses, leaving just the king and queen, Emma, and Killian.

There’s a heavy silence over the table, one that makes her think that even if Snow is considering it, her parents aren’t happy that she plans to leave them again. Plus, it means she’s giving up her rights to the throne if she moves to Storybrooke for good. She even has ideas to pitch on how that should be handled, but that’s a conversation for another day.

“We can have the wedding here,” she blurts out. Killian turns and raises an eyebrow at her, but she barrels on. “We haven’t set a date yet, but we can always plan it to take place here. I would never want to deprive you of another big moment in my life, but I really feel like Storybrooke is just…home. I mean, it’s not home. You guys will always be my home home, but I’m comfortable there. I’m happy there. I like having a job and technology and we can visit any time if this bean thing is really going to work out.”

David gets up from his chair, pacing a few times as Emma talks, and then stopping behind Snow’s seat as she finishes. They both stare at her, shifting their eyes minimally to look at Killian as well. Snow tilts her head back to look at David, and he looks down at her, and they do their married-conversation-without-words bit before they look at her again.

“Okay,” they say in unison.

“Go back with Regina and Robin. It’ll probably help to have a member of the current royal family present while everything gets situated, particularly for those from our kingdom,” David tells her.

“We’ll start planning the wedding. We’ll come visit in a few weeks when the first bean crop is ready for harvest so we can deliver some to you,” Snow says. “And try pizza,” she adds with a wide smile, the word sounding weird coming from her mouth.

It’s hard to think she’ll be leaving them again, but hearing Snow say they’ll come visit soon makes her feel like this is the right decision. This is what she wants. And while she hasn’t really talked to Killian about it, she knows that he enjoyed their time in Storybrooke enough to lament the things he’s also missing.

“Will you send word to Regina to wait for us?” Emma asks as she stands from her chair. Behind her, Killian moves his, and comes to stand beside her.

With a gesture, David draws one of the guards from the doors, relaying the message and sending him on his way. “We’ll be there as soon as we can be,” he tells Emma, accepting the hug she offers and holding her tight. He only releases her when she tells him how much she’ll miss him again, and that she loves him, and then she moves on to Snow.

Her mother is crying, of course, just barely. But Emma knows it’s hard to say goodbye so soon after what they’ve been through. She tells Snow the same thing she said to David, and includes an extra tight squeeze as she tells her how much she’s looking forward to planning the wedding when she sees her again.

A half an hour later, Killian returns to her quarters after packing as much as he wanted from his room. While he had unofficially moved in as soon as they got back, he still had to retrieve the things he most wanted to bring. And tell Liam.

“How’d it go?” Emma asks, not looking up from her own task of putting some of her Storybrooke clothes back into the satchel they brought with them.

“He cried,” Killian says, but she immediately hears the scratchiness in his voice, so she turns her head and raises an eyebrow at him until he looks at her. “Okay, fine, we cried. Happy?”

“Yes, actually.” He was trying to be a smartass, but Emma’s response is genuine. She stops her packing for a second to walk over, not even hesitating as she reaches up to kiss him and wraps her arms around him at the same time. It’s a chaste kiss by the standards they’ve set over the last three days; they have absolutely made up for lost time. But it’s the beginning of their own wordless communication. She doesn’t need to tell him she loves him right this moment (she’ll tell him a thousand times anyway, but it can wait another minute or two). She doesn’t need to thank him, or explain how much this means to her. She knows he would wave off any of those statements if she tried. “I’m just about finished. Any word on how long until the others are leaving?”

“And I quote, there’s not enough time for you two to go at it like rabbits again,” he says, pressing his lips together to ward off the smile that wants to creep up. “End quote.”

“Damn,” she mutters. “Oh well, just means we’ll have to wait until we’re back in my apartment with all those lovely, battery-operated toys.”

“See, now I’m fully on board with going. I had just the slightest hesitation earlier, but you’ve fully won me over with this idea.” She shakes her head, kissing him once before going back to her task.

Killian leaves ahead of her, so Emma has a moment in her room by herself. It feels a lot like a heavy goodbye, even though she knows they’ll be back to visit. Even if the bean trade falls through, Ursula has agreed to help in cases of emergency. The mark for her shell is still on Killian’s arm, so they can call her if they ever need to get back to Misthaven. She turns around the room slowly, smiling at the flowers in the vase, knowing that her mother made the fairies enchant a whole field just so she could go stand someplace where Emma spent so much of her time.

Now, she’s thinking that the same meadow might make a beautiful location for a wedding some day. With that thought in her mind, and a smile on her lips, she walks out, extinguishing all the candles before she closes the door behind her.

-x-

Storybrooke is in calm chaos for weeks. Dealing with who wants to stay and who wants to leave is the trickiest bit. There are many people who, just as Ursula and Regina figured, don’t want to return to a place where their families are long gone. There are others who simply believe they fit better in a modern world than the one they were taken from. Will Scarlet, especially, says he’s a much better man in Storybrooke than he was in Misthaven, or Wonderland, or Oz… or so he claims. He is spending a great deal of time at the library, but Emma has suspicions that it’s because of Belle, and not because of the books.

Most fascinating is watching the connections between the people of the town come out of the woodwork. It turns out that Ruby and Mulan already knew each other, having met as they were on their own adventures, and traveling together for some time. They’d both been attracted to the other, but far too timid or unsure to pursue the idea of really traveling together. What had been a tentative start of a relationship when Emma saw them before the search party set out blossoms into a beautiful partnership.

Graham laughs, his whole body shaking with the action, when he realizes precisely who Emma and Killian are. “You’ve both come a long way from those hand-offs in the hallway. My favorite little tart thieves. No wonder you always felt like my younger sister,” he marvels to Emma. Killian smiles, happy to observe the interaction. He’s been meeting the people Emma has spent her last few years with, and it’s jarring but in a wonderful way.

He’s had the only reunion he was concerned with. Stepping onto the docks yesterday to find Brennan was a surreal experience, especially when his father sizes him up. The last Captain Jones saw of his sons, Killian was barely retaining his memories. His father seemed ten times larger than the average man, so standing before him now, their statures so similar, is the hardest part to swallow. But then Emma was beside him, easing the tension he felt in his shoulders. Introducing him to Emma might be his favorite part of the reunion.

Their stories are not so unique. There are children and parents, friends, lovers, enemies who decide to bury the hatchet – all types of camaraderie all over this town that was born of petty hatred. Person by person, story by story, they sort through every resident in the town to take an accurate survey of everyone there, figuring out where each one wanted to live and shuffling them toward the piers to help get them ready for Ursula.

Shortly after everyone gets placed where they want to go, life returns to something resembling normal. Since the bean crop is just about at its harvesting point, Killian is pretty sure they’re bound to get a message any day about Emma’s parents planning a visit. The idea makes her absolutely giddy. She wants her parents to see that while they were separated for far too long, she was by no means abused in her temporary “prison” town. She talks plenty about taking them to various places in town, not hesitating to point out a new one as they walk to dinner one night, or as he walks with her to work the next day.

He always gives her a kiss on the cheek before they part, with her heading into the station and him walking the last couple blocks to the docks on his own. He knows boats and ships, so what better place for a pirate than working at the docks. His crew, all but Smee, returned to Misthaven to go find their bluer seas. He sent Smee back to retrieve his ship, but hired the man to be his first mate once more, for good over greed this time. Amazingly, Smee happily comes aboard, glad to lend out his services of finding people and goods when not working on the Jolly Roger.

The fair trade of magic beans and goods in Misthaven ends up being so lucrative that Storybrooke becomes something of a tourist destination. There aren’t a lot of visitors in the winter, but in the summer, there are people popping in every day of the week. It means that they have to come up with a conversion rate for gold to money, which is an interesting affair, but it works out fantastically for Granny’s bed and breakfast, and the diner. With the extra revenue, Regina begins making plans for updates and upgrades, for new construction projects and a reassessment of the schools. Everything that can be improved is given a thorough inspection by their new, watchful mayor.

It also works out great for Killian and Brennan. Since he’s already been working on the docks all this time, he and Killian start up an ocean tour business, taking their vacationing Misthaven folk out on the sea and around the coasts they can now travel to since the curse has lifted. When Liam comes to visit, the Jones family has their own day. Liam has more memories of Brennan, and so the two connect much easier than Killian initially had. But having them all together is more valuable than anything else.

When he returns home after the first night, Emma is waiting for him with a knowing smile on her face. She pulls him into her arms as soon as he closes the door, easing the tension and nerves that he managed to hide all day long. Having a family outside of Emma is still startlingly new to him, but he’s adjusting.

The king and queen’s visit is a much-anticipated event for the town. Much like a visit from any other top-ranking officials, the residents all put forward their best efforts. Granny, who knew Snow as a child before she and Ruby were sent to the cursed town, gets to host the royals as her guests. During their visit, Killian gets a taste of how it must’ve been adjusting him to modern amenities. Emma’s parents were told in advance what to expect, however watching David operate light switches is Killian’s new favorite activity.

On the second day of their vacation, Emma and Snow go out shopping for modern clothes for the king and queen to wear during the rest of their stay. In their new outfits, David looks like any other random bloke in town, and Snow looks like a perfect school teacher, her prim cardigans and soft pastels the perfect style for her demeanor.

“In another life, in this town, I think I would’ve enjoyed being a teacher,” Snow tells them after Emma points this out.

The four of them squeeze around the table at Emma’s apartment for meals, and it’s obvious that the space that used to feel adequate is no longer enough. Hand-me-down castoffs are well and good, but as soon as they start shopping for Killian and filling the closet and drawers with his clothes as well, they realize that they’re not destined to inhabit the one-bedroom apartment for something longer than a temporary stay.

Finding a house to live in is an adventure all on its own. They wait until David and Snow return home to go out looking, wanting to devote their whole attention to the task. They bicker about the details, sometimes to the point of going just beyond the term of disagreements and entering fighting, but it’s only through these interactions that they discover ways to resolve them. And make-up sex is the very best way to end any argument, of course.

When they do find a house, it’s a choice they can both agree on. The process of filling the house with more than just furniture and clothes is something they both delight in. Emma has a knack for finding the perfect paintings and artwork to put on the walls, and Killian excels at finding knickknacks and functional items of the perfect style. Soon, picture frames line the walls and sit across the mantel, and curtains they picked together cover their windows.

After a little over a year of residing in peaceful Storybrooke, they head back to the Enchanted Forest to prepare for the wedding. Brennan and Smee sail the Jolly Roger between the realms with the help of the magic beans and ferry guests to Misthaven for the event.

For some of them, it’s their first time back to their homeland, so David and Snow open their doors to any guests, housing all of the wedding-goers in an attempt to make everyone as comfortable as possible.

Killian can hardly believe the transformation of the flower field when he sees it the day of the wedding. Platforms and walkways, all specially crafted with the fairies’ magic, are placed over the flowers so that none of them are disturbed during the ceremony. In the center, a dais has been built up to accommodate the nuptials. With their flowers all in bloom, and the sun shining down on them, Killian and the guests wait patiently for Emma and her parents to walk up the path.

He might be biased, but she’s the most beautiful bride he’s ever seen. The dress is more modern, having been purchased in Storybrooke, but her head is topped with a flower crown made of the delicate buds from the field. The event outshines every ball the kingdom has ever held, with the reception taking place in the main hall. They spend their first night as husband and wife in Emma’s old quarters, with her magic surrounding and protecting the room again, just in case. As is the trend in their lives, this is the room that witnesses another of their firsts.

While the guests all return to Storybrooke in the days that follow the wedding, Emma and Killian stay behind to begin the first leg of their honeymoon adventure. As a princess, Emma had little chance to explore the kingdoms, so they set off on a journey to remedy that. Killian takes her on a tour of the best ports he visited. The second half of their tour is spent exploring the country that houses their new home. Storybrooke still won’t show on any maps, keeping their little magic town a secret of sorts, but the broken curse means that the residents can move beyond the town limits.

Killian is sure that their life in the Enchanted Forest would’ve been filled with plenty of excitement, but as they settle back in after their journey ends, he discovers that they’ve hit the exact amount of thrills to fit their lifestyle. Some nights they dance to whatever music comes from the stereo, and sometimes they go sailing for the joy of feeling the wind in their hair. They make dinner slightly more often than going to grab Granny’s for takeout, and they live and work and love every single day, enjoying every single moment.

And when the time is right, they get a cat.

The End.

Thank you for reading! xo

[denilmo]

Good Boy - KakaSaku Week 3

A shout out to @natanije for the wonderfully cute idea. I hope you like what I turned it into. ALSO, thank you @eeearnest for your feedback! Prompts include: Holding Hands & “This is all your fault.” “I hope so.” Rated: T - no graphic anything! Friendship, heart ache, break ups, and fluff??? Who knew? Word Count: Nearly 6k

Also found at my AO3 for ease of reading, and also cross posted to my FF account Enjoy!

Sakura had always had a soft spot for things that were broken and incomplete, or seen as unworthy of attention. She mended her favorite shirt just to be able to wear it for another year. The jeans with the holes in them weren’t trashy, just comfortable. So what if she held onto the same pair of sneakers for years? Just because they weren’t currently in fashion didn’t make them ratty. Yes, Sakura loved things given up by most, after all she was one of those things, wasn’t she?

Her parents constantly fought with each other and there was nothing she could do about it. Perhaps that was why she tried so hard all of her life. To get top marks at the Academy, to not let the bullying get to her and make friends. And not just make them, but keep them. She graduated top of her class and got accepted into an amazing pre-med program. And her boyfriend, the single love of her life since junior year of high school, was so proud of her. She had been and done everything expected of her and more. But a part of her still felt so empty, so broken, just like her family home. At least she was out on her own. Dealing with the fall out of her parents’ divorce was easier when she didn’t have to be there to witness it.

Sakura worked part time at a little cafe while going to college. Her friends stopped by often to say hello and get discounted food. She pessimistically wondered if she’d see them this often if they weren’t getting anything out of it. But then one of her friends would crack a joke, or Sasuke would give her a quick peck on the cheek when he thought no one was looking, and that was enough for her. And that’s how her life was: wake up, go to school, study, go to work, study, sleep and repeat. Day in and day out Sakura’s life was routinely boring.

Until one Friday when she got off work to a soft drizzling rain. She had tucked a few leftover rolls into her purse, to eat while studying, and locked up for the night. A soft whimper caught her ear, and opening her umbrella, she walked around to the side of the building. Her emerald gaze swept along the alley, seeing nothing. She turned to leave when a shape emerged from the shadows.

The dog had its ears down, its tail wagging cautiously. Sakura knelt and held her hand out. “It’s all right,” she cooed. “I won’t hurt you.”

With its head bowed, but gaze locked on her, the dog came forward. She gasped as it approached, noticing the faint scar that bisected its left eye. The dog’s nose was slightly chilled as it bumped her hand. She let it smell her and familiarize itself with her scent, as she didn’t want to scare it. Now that it was closer she could tell he wasn’t quite a puppy anymore. His body was large, if thin and lean. Its grey fur was wild and damp, and she smiled as it licked her hand. She pat his head gently and slowly in hopes to not startle him.

The dog leaned down and sniffed at her purse, and jerked back as she stood. “It’s okay,” she assured. She pulled out a handkerchief and opened it, revealing the bread inside. “It’s not very nutritious, but you look hungry.”

She ripped a chunk off and held it out in offering. She nearly sighed as the dog cocked its head to the side, as if doubting her friendly gesture. She took a bite out of it and then held it out to him again and this time, he took it. She smiled and patted him between his ears. She could feel the dog watching her as she walked over to the dumpster and fished out a broken-down cardboard box from the pile. She folded the flaps in on one side and then set the box up against the wall, under the awning by the delivery door.

“Here you go. At least this way you can stay dry, huh? You’ll be more comfortable sleeping like this too, I think.”

She tore off another piece of bread and gave it to him. Then she set the two remaining rolls inside the box. The dog sat beside her, partially under the umbrella as he observed the makeshift shelter. She held her hand out, this time getting approval much quicker. She rubbed him behind his ear. “You’re a cute dog, I wish I knew what your name was or if you had an owner.”

She frowned when she felt for a collar and found none. “Be a good boy, try and sleep, okay? I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Sakura stood and began to leave. When she glanced back, the dog was staring after her but made no move. She waved and then continued home. Her snack was gone, but at least she could keep an animal from going hungry.

When Sakura went to work next day she happily bounded around the corner of the cafe. The box had been taken and the dog was nowhere in sight. Her smile fell, but all she could do was shrug and continue on herself. The dog had seemed a bit distrusting of people, and she wondered how he got the scar on its face. No collar, no tag, just another stray.

And it was just another day for her, taking orders, making coffee, and serving food. She counted the till and set up the deposit before packing up a couple croissants and locking up. She was surprised to see the dog outside, and that it seemed happy to see her, its fluffy tail wagging. When she held out her hand he came over more willingly than he had the previous night. She scratched behind his ears and down the sides of his coat, giggling at how he almost seemed to smile

“They picked up all the boxes today, sorry boy. But I do have something yummy to share.”

His head tilted to the side as he watched her open her bag. She offered him the bread and smiled when he took it. “I’ll get some meat next time, I promise. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And so the dog became part of her routine. School, work, and dog - friends and boyfriend in between. She never saw the dog during the evening, but he was always there waiting for her when she got off.

And then one night, just like any other night, after she’d fed him some chicken scraps and told him about her day - everything changed. She had said goodnight to the dog, as she always did, and began her walk home.

She had made it only a block up when an arm snaked around her from behind and dragged her between the buildings, kicking and screaming. Recalling her lessons, she stomped on his instep and rammed her elbow back into his stomach. As he let her go, she took the opportunity to drive the heel of her hand into his nose. The man covered his face on instinct which left the rest of him open and vulnerable, and she kicked him in the groin.

Sakura took a few hurried and shaky steps away when she was struck on the back of her head. Disoriented, Sakura came to on the ground, a man rummaging through her purse. As soon as she moved to sit up, the man extended his arm, a gun in hand.

“I thought you’d have something worth taking,” he sneered as he tossed her bag away. His eyes landed on her and Sakura felt repulsed by the greedy way his gaze swept over her. He chuckled darkly. “But perhaps you do after all.”

Sakura recoiled from his touch to her knee, panic rising as it went higher up on her thigh. “No!” she screamed.

There was a loud threatening growl and Sakura closed her eyes moments before the man yelled in pain. Surprise jerked her eyes back open and there was the dog standing between her and the man, its teeth sunk deep into his forearm.

Sakura stared on, ignoring the blood that was puddling on the ground, ignoring the pain and fear that twisted her attacker’s features. All she could see was grey fur raised between squared shoulders. Over the weeks she had come to know the dog, she had never seen it so stiff and aggressive.

The man pulled and hit the dog on its head, but it refused to let him go. Another growl rumbled low in its chest. “Call off your dog,” the man begged.

My dog?

“You crazy bitch! Call him off!” A sharp yelp followed his outburst as the dog chomped on him again. “I’m sorry! I’ll leave! I’ll leave you alone, please!”

Sakura blinked, still not quite fully present in the situation, but she moved toward the animal who had saved her. She cautiously put her hand on his back. “It’s okay, boy, let him go,” she whispered.

The dog growled, its dark eye glancing to her, but immediately snapping back to the perpetrator as he tried to pull free.

Sakura rubbed behind his ear. “You did good, you saved me. Now let him go and we can go home. Okay, boy?”

The dog slowly opened his mouth, freeing the man, but his lips remained pulled back in a snarl - a warning. The man clenched his arm and sprang to his feet. He ran off without a second glance back at his partner still curled up in pain on the ground.

With the danger passed, Sakura let out a shaky breath as her eyes filled with tears. She wrapped her arms around the dog, hugging him to her. “Thank you,” she mumbled into his fur over and over. She pulled away and took his face in her hands, examining him. “Are you all right? I’m sorry he hit you. I don’t see any blood though… thank you, boy.”

It seemed to wink his scarred eye and then lick her chin. She smiled at him and ruffled the fur by his shoulders. “All right. You’re coming home with me.“

Sakura was ambushed by Sasuke when she got home. Don’t you realize what time it is? Why are you so late? You could’ve called. And then… What the hell is that? Is that a dog?!

She reminded him about the dog she’d been feeding after work, told him with tears in her eyes about how he’d saved her when she was attacked. Sasuke hugged her, carding his fingers through her hair as he soothed her, and eyed the mutt sniffing around their apartment.  

He let go of her and squatted in front of the dog, holding out his hand to it. “You saved her, huh? I owe you one, then. You seem okay… I guess.”

The dog sniffed at his hand, but unlike bowing closer as he did with Sakura, he pulled back and cocked his head, regarding him with cautious eyes as if to return the sentiment.

Sasuke stood and ran his hand through his hair.  “If he’s staying, he needs a bath. He stinks, Sak.”

She nodded as she wiped the remnants of her tears away. “All right, come on boy.” She patted her thigh as she began down the hall.

“I didn’t mean right now, it’s late.”

“After everything he’s done for me, I think he deserves a bath. Get some sleep and I’ll be in after a while.”

Sasuke heaved a sigh, but she paid him no mind as she turned on the bathroom light. He followed after her and watched, amused, as she fought to get the dog into the tub. It was rather large and he was surprised when she managed to pick him up and get him in.

“What kind of dog do you think he is? He’s very wolf-like, a Husky maybe?”

She shrugged as she got him all wet.  “The markings don’t quite match.  Maybe something similar like a Malamute?”

“You should get him checked out. You never know what kind of diseases a stray could carry.”

The dog shot him an unimpressed glare and Sakura giggled.  “Don’t take it personally.”

“Come on, Sak, you know he doesn’t understand a single word right?”

After Sakura finished bathing him, and getting quite the shower herself as he shook the water from his coat,  she led him to the kitchen.  She pulled a placemat down that Sasuke’s little cousin used when visiting and set a bowl of water on it. She opened the fridge, unsure of what else she could give him. There was a bit of leftover beef so she chopped it up and set it next to the water.

“I’ll have to buy you some proper dog food in the morning, but this will do for now.” She rubbed his head, smirking at how he seemed to still be displeased at getting a bath. “I wish I knew what to call you.”

“You mean it doesn’t have a name?” Sasuke asked.

Both Sakura and the dog looked up at him as if they’d forgotten he was there. She shook her head and then looked down at him happily eating away. From beneath the food dish poked the characters for a henohenomoheji and her eyes lit up.  “Kakashi!”

The dog’s head snapped up and Sasuke arched a brow at her.  “Ka-kashi?”

She nodded as she massaged the dog’s ears. “Do you like your name, Kakashi?”

She laughed as he seemed to reply by licking her enthusiastically on the face.  “Okay, okay.  Welcome home, Kakashi.”

Weeks turned into a month, and then two, and Kakashi had settled into life with his new family.  Sakura got him a collar and a name tag, and she’d brush his fur regularly. She took him on frequent walks and played with him.  Sasuke did, too, but the dog never seemed to enjoy playing with him as much as with Sakura. She didn’t quite understand why, and she chalked it up to the fact that they’d found each other and bonded first.

For a while that thought was sufficient enough. But then Kakashi would turn up his nose to food Sasuke offered him, and would walk away whenever he tried to pet him.

“The dog hates me,” Sasuke commented one night as they went to bed.

“Maybe it’s just a phase.  I don’t see how anyone could hate you.”

He only hummed in thought, then kissed her deep, shutting the door.

But as time passed, Sakura wondered if there was more going on. Kakashi didn’t want anything to do with Sasuke, and he began to position himself between them at every opportunity. Whenever Sakura gave Sasuke attention,  Kakashi would plop his head down in her lap and nuzzle her free hand. And whenever Sasuke came home and found them playing, Kakashi would growl at him if he tried to interrupt.

And then one day as Sakura returned from a walk with Kakashi, there was a red-head woman waiting at the front door.  Kakashi growled softly,  loud enough for Sakura to barely hear.  She tightened her hold on the leash. “Calm down.”

She approached the front door. “Excuse me, hi.”

The red-head spun around and pushed black-rimmed glasses up her nose. Her eyes narrowed a bit in Sakura’s direction,  but then she sighed.  “I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong address,” she muttered as she pulled out a piece of paper. “But the numbers match…”

“May I?”

Sakura took the paper, and her heart dropped. It was Sasuke’s handwriting; she’d know it anywhere. On it was their address, with instructions to not be there until after 3 pm, and a… heart ?

Sakura passed the paper back to her, trying to conceal the shock and pain. She had traded shifts with a girl at work; she’d wanted to surprise Sasuke since it was their anniversary. Instead, she was the one to receive a surprise.

“Um… you okay?”  asked the strange woman.

Sakura snapped out of her daze. “Yeah, sorry, I… Sasuke’s not home yet.”

“Oh! So it is right! Thanks. Are you his neighbor or something?”

“Or something,” she muttered before she felt a tug on the leash. Kakashi whined and then she heard Sasuke’s voice.

“Karin! Glad you found it, babe!”

The red-head spun around, beaming in his direction. “Yeah, thanks to your neighbor! I thought I had the wrong place.”

Sasuke froze, eyes wide, as he reached the top of the steps. “Sakura…”

Karin looked between them, realization dawning on her face. “Oh, shit.”

Sakura felt like she was going to burst into tears at any moment, and she hated it. A velvety tongue passed over her knuckles and Kakashi’s head bumped against her. It seemed to snap her into emergency flee mode.  She stalked over to the door and fumbled with the keys as she unlocked it. She glanced over at Karin. “You can keep him.”

“Sakura, wait-”

But Sasuke was cut off by a loud, throaty bark,  Kakashi turning and baring his fangs before the door slammed shut.

Inside, Sakura turned both locks and then leaned back against the door. She cupped her hand over her mouth, anything to hold back the sobs beating at her chest. The door knob jiggled. “Come on, Sak.”

She closed her eyes, pushing out the tears, but remained silent. Fuck this, come on, let’s get out of here she heard on the other side of the door.

Sakura squeezed her eyes shut, fingers clamped over her mouth as she leaned forward, her body trembling but no sound coming out.  Kakashi sat there and stared at her, his ears twitching, until she finally gasped and jerked back upright.

Sakura couldn’t fight it anymore; her chin quivered, more and more, pulling her bottom lip down until a cry escaped her. It was sharp and sudden, and behind it came another and another, forcing their way out the crack in her wall. She gulped for air as she slid down to the floor and drew her knees up to her chest. She felt her tears bleed into her pants and felt even more pathetic, and that in turn only made her cry more. Because she really was pathetic. She was never good enough for him, had never been good enough for anyone. Gods, she had been such a fool.

There was a soft whine to her side and then a nudge to her elbow, followed by another and another until she lifted her head. Sakura held Kakashi’s stare with her own tear filled one and offered him a sad smile when he whined again. Then he burrowed his head under her arm, wedging himself in the open space. Sakura stroked his fur with shaky fingers, comforted by his presence.

“You’re there for me again,” she murmured before turning toward him and wrapping her other arm around him. Most dogs despises being hugged, and even if kakashi didn’t like it, he didn’t move. He was big and sturdy and fluffy and warm. And he was there for her. The tears began to fall again as she clutched at the thick fur at his neck as she couldn’t hold back the sobs.

Kakashi just sat there and took it all, laying his head on her shoulder as her tears soaked his coat. They stayed like that for some time until Sakura regained some composure. It was already late in the evening, so she followed her routine and fed Kakashi. She didn’t make dinner for herself; she had no appetite. When she didn’t join him to eat, Kakashi abandoned his food and followed her to the bedroom.

She was crying again, this time with a photo in her hands. Why was she so stupid? How could he do this to her? He was supposed to love her, he told her as much. And she’d blindly believed in him. Angry, she threw the frame across the room, not so much as flinching as the wood broke and the glass shattered.

Sakura collapsed onto the bed and curled-up into a ball, hugging a pillow close. Only the pillow smelled too strongly of Sasuke so she tossed it off the bed. Growling and ripping caught her attention and she rolled over to see Kakashi destroying the pillow. She smiled bitterly and then whistled to get his attention. They’d never allowed him on the bed before, but since Sasuke was gone - and she had no intention of taking him back - she patted the bed beside her.  

Kakashi jumped up onto the bed and groaned as he stretched out alongside her. She wrapped her arm around him, curling her hand around the crown of his head and began to stroke his ear. “I’m sorry,” she muttered with a sniffle. “I can’t believe that bastard was cheating on me!”

Kakashi huffed and she let out a weak laugh. “Though it’s not that surprising, I guess. Everyone always leaves me. I have never been important to anyone. I mean it’s pretty fucked up when my parents won’t even call me. My best friend is also my worst enemy. And the person I’ve given all of myself to just doesn’t want it anymore.”

Kakashi whimpered and licked at the tears on her cheek. She wiped her face and then kissed him on the head. “I don’t know why our paths crossed, but I’m so happy I have you. You’ll never leave me, will you?”

His nose nudged against her neck and Sakura swiped more tears away. “You’re a good boy,” she said as she patted him. “I love you, Kakashi.”

Sakura cried into the night - sometimes loud and sloppy, but mostly quiet and pitiful. Kakashi stayed there through it all as her heavy handed petting became lighter and slower, and she finally fell asleep. Kakashi watched her as soft snores bubbled forth, and then he sighed and closed his eyes.

Sakura hummed to herself in detest as sunlight broke through the window and splayed across her face. She yawned and instantly regretted it as her head pounded. Her eyes felt swollen and heavy so she decided not to open them right away. There was a light snoring beside her and she stroked the soft tufts of fluffy hair. Kakashi had stayed at her side all night, and she was thankful. She was… not petting fur as she stroked further down. No, whatever was beneath her hand was firm and smooth.

She forced her eyes opened and she turned her gaze down. All she saw at first was grey and she briefly thought she was losing her mind, until she pulled back. Beyond the grey sat a straight nose and strong jaw, lean shoulders, and sculpted torso. Her hand was held comfortably in his and when she tried to free it, he only squeezed her hand tighter.

This couldn’t be happening. This was surely just a dream, right? It had to be. She fell asleep next to her dog , not a man. Her heart raced as she poked the man on his head, again and again, a little harder each time. He twitched and grunted just like Kakashi, so maybe if this was a dream…

“Wake up, Kakashi. Outside!”

At the magic word, his eyes popped open and he sat up. “Outside? Let’s go!”

Sakura’s eyes widened and she yelped in surprise. She pushed herself away from him, all the way to the edge of the bed. The man cocked his head as he looked at her and then sighed. “Hurry up, I really have to pee.”

And then for whatever reason, Sakura glanced down, and realized he was naked. She flushed in embarrassment and pushed back again only to fall off the bed.  Sakura groaned and cradled her head and when she cracked her eyes open, it was to see the man with his hands hanging off the edge of the bed, staring down at her.

“Are you okay? Can you let me out to pee now?”

“I’m fine,” she murmured, feeling flustered and quite stupid. “Just… use the bathroom.”

“Bathroom?”

Sakura closed her eyes as she stood and rubbed at the temples of her head. “I don’t remember what happened.” She thought she did, but she must be missing a few hours of her life to be in this situation.

“What do you mean? We were crying and I comforted you. That is all.”

That is all? “Okay… what’s your name?”

He barked with laughter. “You named me, silly.”

Her arms fell limp at her sides and she turned her surprised gaze to him. “Kakashi?!”

“Of course!”

She took a step closer to the bed and he sat back, watching her. His hair was the same shade of grey that his fur had been, and he had the same scar bisecting his left eye, and he was wearing the same blue collar. No way. This was impossible!

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“Because you are supposed to be a dog! And… and well…”

She took his hands and held them up for him to see. His eyes widened. “Check out my paws!” Then he looked down at himself and touched his chest before trailing his hands down the length of his torso. “Wow…”

Sakura turned away as he stood up on the bed, and her face redeemed even more as she heard him say, “Oh, so that’s what it looks like.”

“Yeah, so please, if you have to go to the bathroom, please do so in the toilet.”

Kakashi hopped down from the bed and then flexed his legs and toes. “This feels odd, but really nice. Hmmm, and I thought all those visions were just dreams,” he muttered the last part to himself  before the urge for relief became stronger. He darted off to the bathroom and Sakura sat on the edge of the bed - disbelief laced into every inch of her. This was insane.

A loud knock came pounding on the front door, followed by Sasuke’s voice. “Sakura, open the door.”

This could not be happening right now. She slapped the bed as she got up, and stormed out the bedroom. But she stopped in the hallway; she really didn’t want to see him. “Go away!”

“Sak, please.”

“I said go away! I don’t want to see you.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“To your parents, your brother’s, any single one of your friends and oh, I don’t know, Karin’s? I’m sure that’s where you stayed last night!”

“Don’t make me do this out here. Let me in.”

There was a low growl behind her and Sakura turned to see Kakashi, in all his naked glory and not caring in the least. She put her hands on his chest to stop his advancement. “Please, stop.”

She could see the anger more clearly in his eyes as he looked down at her, his lips twitching. “But it’s that asshole.”

“Yes, but-“

“Just say the word and I’ll bite him, just like the last man that hurt you.”

She held his gaze; how could he know that? Only she and Sasuke knew of that night… and the dog she supposed. Could this man really be -

“Are you talking to someone?” Sasuke asked before knocking again, and then the sound of keys jingled.

Sakura sighed as she looked back to the door. She faced Kakashi again. “Please, go back to the bedroom and let me take care of this.”

“But he’s-”

“He’s not a threat. I’ll call for you if I need your help. I promise.”

Kakashi’s eyes lost the edge of hardness around him as he looked to her. “I don’t trust him.“

“Please-”

“I tried warning you, from the time I smelled another being on him. I tried to keep you safe from him then…”

Realization swept over her. “That’s why your behavior toward him… you knew.” Her eyes glossed over with fresh tears. “Then, that means it’s been going on for… a long time. How could I have been so stupid?”

He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her. “You are not stupid, you are just far too kind.”

Sakura laughed, but the tears fell anyway. She stood there, dwarfed in his embrace, and too consumed by her feelings and the insane impossibility of it all to worry about anything else. This man really was Kakashi, wasn’t he?

“Please stop crying,” he murmured before he licked her cheek as he’d done last night - albeit in a much different form - and the front door wrenched open.

“Sakura, listen I-“ Sasuke froze as he entered the apartment and caught sight of Sakura in the arms of a man - a very naked man.  He watched as she turned in his embrace to face him. “What the hell is this?” he demanded.

“Get your things and get out of my house,” she replied, ignoring his question - because really how could she explain what happened and still be considered sane?

“What the hell? I’m gone one night and you shack up with this loser? And you want to be mad at me?!”

“At course I’m mad at you! You’ve been cheating on me for weeks!”

His expression faltered. “I can explain-”

“Did you think I wouldn’t know? Or that because I’m so in love with you that I’d just forgive you?!”

“Sakura-“

She stepped toward him, hands balled into tight fist. “And you had her come here , to my home. Were you going to curl up together on my couch? Fuck her in my bed?”

Kakashi’s stance widened, going light on his feet and ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. “Oh that’s funny coming from you, especially when you’ve got a naked man standing behind you! Don’t be such a hypocrite when you’re acting like a whore!”

Kakashi growled and reared back when Sakura’s hand went flying and slapped Sasuke across the face. Everything fell quiet as Sasuke stared at her in shock, cradling his cheek. Sakura stared back at him, anger flaring in her eyes even as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I love you,” she admitted. “But I will not be a fool for you anymore. And if you ever call me a whore again, I will break your jaw. Now get out.”

Kakashi couldn’t contain his happiness at the scene before him and he jumped up.  “Yes!”

Sakura turned and regarded him with wide eyes that screamed What are you doing? He grinned sheepishly and shrugged, popping his hip to the side as he reached up and scratched the back of his head.

Sasuke huffed. “No decency.  He’s perfect for you.”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll be back for my things,” he commented as he turned to leave.

But Sakura stopped him. “Keys.”

“Do what?”

“Give me the keys,” she repeated.

His lip curled in a sneer. “I’ve got to get my things.”

“I’ll have it all ready for you in a few days. You are not coming back in here, ever. So give them to me, now.”

Sasuke looked past her to Kakashi whose muscles flexed as he crossed his arms over his chest. Muttering to himself, he worked the keys off of the key chain. Instead of dropping them in Sakura’s outstretched hand, he threw them at Kakashi. His brow furrowed when the man jumped to the side and caught the poorly thrown keys in his mouth.

With a shake of his head, he waved him off. “Hope you have more fun with her than I did.”

Sakura bristled at his comment, but he ignored her and stalked out of the apartment. Sakura slammed the door behind him. “That jerk! I don’t care if he is an Uchiha, he has no right! Ugh!”

She was absolutely livid as she stormed by Kakashi. He followed after her back into the bedroom and watched as she pulled a suitcase from under the bed. She yanked open a dresser drawer and began to toss men’s clothes inside. “That bastard!” she growled.

Even though she was a bit scary right now, and Kakashi felt he should be cautious, he liked seeing his owner this way best - honest and unrestrained. She kept wiping tears from her face as she packed, and he took a tentative step closer. “You did good.”

She laughed humorlessly. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

He came closer as he asked, “Would you like to pet me?”

“Do what?”

“It always seems to make you feel better.”

She threw her hands up and the air. “When you were a dog! How am I supposed to pet… that?” she asked, gesturing wildly to his body.

He looked down and shrugged. “That does pose a problem.”

“You think? And why couldn’t you have listened to me?” she snapped. “I told you to wait back here, and now Sasuke thinks…”

Kakashi tensed as he rolled his eyes. “The hell with what he thinks.”

“The hell with…” she trailed off. “You’re unbelievable! I know you’re probably unaware of how this works, but I wouldn’t put it past Sasuke  to tell everyone. And I’m going to have to deal with the fall out, not you. This is all your fault!”

“I hope so.”

Sakura dropped the shirt in her hands. “How can you say that?”

“Would you rather I lie to you like everyone else? Because I can’t, that’s not in my nature.” He stepped closer to her. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with what he thinks of you, or what anyone else might if they’re so easily swayed by his words. I know the real you, the person that stays up all night to study even after a long day at work. You’re a person who takes care of her home and that people inside it even if they don’t deserve it, even if they make you cry. You’re a person who is loyal and hardworking. You are a person who can see beyond what’s on the outside. You see beauty and potential where others see trash. You fed me that night after all. You are so kind and loving,” he declared as he stopped in front of her.

Sakura smiled as he lifted his hand to her face and brushed the tears away. “Don’t hide from who you really are. Embrace it, and show it to the world. The important ones will accept you, as you’ve done for me, and I for you.”

Sakura  crushed herself to his chest as she hugged him, her tears falling freely again. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted a hand to the back of her head to stroke through her hair.

“You really are Kakashi. I don’t understand it,” she mumbled against his skin. “But… I’m really grateful. Thank you.”

He smiled and nuzzled his nose against her head, and then he chuckled. He couldn’t help it.

“What?” she inquired, peering up at him.

“Nothing, it’s just… it’s the first time I’ve gotten to pet you.”

She laughed as she pulled free from him, and as she turned away her hand brushed against something soft and limp and she froze, internally screaming. Hoh gods, please don’t tell me I just touched his dick!!!

She looked up at him, her cheeks pink with embarrassment, but Kakashi looked as indifferent as ever. He cocked his head, his eyes meeting hers with playful curiosity.

She coughed into her hand and took a step back. “We should um… probably find you some clothes.”

TBC

[lvsifer]

SasoDei Ff

Sasori and Deidara as they cross the desert. Cross-posted on AO3.

preview:

Look, Sasori, my man, Deidara murmurs and points to the west where a light licks over the firmament before it extinguishes. A shooting star.     

That’s art, Deidara says, blazing for one moment only.     

No, Sasori says. No, and he does not look at Deidara, but at the eternal empyrean. A breeze picks up, swiping sand over their feet. Deidara kneels and lets himself fall back onto his elbows. His hair is bereft of colour in the night, thick fall of pale grey. He turns towards him, bending over Hiruko’s shell. His gaze is hooded, quieter than before.     

Do you, Deidara murmurs and grazes his fingers against Sasori’s cheek, feel anything at all? 

i.

The desert is vast, moonlit in shades of blue and silvers. The whispers of the sands, coarse and soft. The skittering of scorpions, the sliding of snakes, and insects just beneath the surface. It’s alive and it’s not, always on the verge of death.

They walk faster during nights, rest, if they must, during day. And even in the shell of Hiruko, Deidara’s prattle is inescapable. It’s only before dawn that he falls silent, as Sasori shifts aside Hiruko’s shield and stares up at the desert sky and its stars.

But not this night.

Look, Sasori, my man, Deidara murmurs and points to the west where a light licks over the firmament before it extinguishes. A shooting star.

That’s art, Deidara says, blazing for one moment only.

No, Sasori says. No, and he does not look at Deidara, but at the eternal empyrean. A breeze picks up, swiping sand over their feet. Deidara kneels and lets himself fall back onto his elbows. His hair is bereft of colour in the night, thick fall of pale grey. He turns towards him, bending over Hiruko’s shell. His gaze is hooded, quieter than before.

Do you, Deidara murmurs and grazes his fingers against Sasori’s cheek, feel anything at all?

Sasori offers nothing. Deidara’s fingertips are but a whisper against his shell, then they are gone. Silence lingers between them. The east illumens. Sasori shuts Hiruko’s shield above himself once more. Darkness. Within it, he is almost boundless.

He awakes at nightfall. His left hand twitches, his chakra strings tingle and Hiruko jitters to life. Outside, Deidara shifts too.

The sand is still warm, Deidara says.

Hiss of it, crumbs of it against Hiruko’s side. The sand slides underneath the puppet’s feet as Sasori moves it. He watches Deidara with Hiruko’s eyes. The boy grins, runs his hands through the sand. Dusk dresses Deidara in hues of red.

Lets get moving, Sasori says. I hate to—

Yes, yes I know, Deidara says. Last light catches in his eyes, then night collides with the earth. It’s always quick in the desert.

They are close to Sunagakure now, they will arrive by morning. It’s been over twenty years since Sasori last saw it. Time passes him by without meaning. He does not think of the village, he thinks only of what they must do. Shadows blur all shapes, but Deidara is there beside him.

It’ll be beautiful, Deidara says, elated, worthy of me.

What are you blabbering?

Deidara turns towards him, The fire. And death. He opens his palm, revealing one of his mouths, chewing away. Trust me, my man. He bends low, palm against Hiruko’s cheek, tongue of it flickering against the cloth covering Hiruko’s jaw.

You’ll feel so alive.

They walk quickly. There’s a jump to Deidara’s step and a hum under his breath, loud enough for Sasori to hear. Deidara catches him staring, and laughs. He turns away.

The night fades. They rest once more, an hour before dawn. The captain of the guard should be on his way by now, ensnared in Sasori’s jutsu.

On the horizon, the rock-hewn walls of Sunagakure. The sun rises, a wavering orb blazing in the east. Red light bleeds into the clouds. Their shadows lengthen behind them.

They move.

ii.

He feels nothing but the twitching coils of impatience. He watches Deidara fight after he has dealt with the guards at the gate. Explosion after explosion ruptures the sky. The jinchūriki proves stronger than expected. But Deidara succeeds, in the end.

Once more, they are on their way, leaving chaos in their wake, and enough traps to delay anyone foolish enough to follow them. This time, they do not rest for the first two days. Deidara climbs onto his bird to sleep when the sun rises, sheltered by clay feathers. His empty sleeve flutters in the wind, blood caked on the frayed ends. Sasori uses a jutsu to create other trails to hide their tracks. All the while, the jinchūriki lies coiled within the tail feathers of Deidara’s bird, unconscious. And soon to die.

Deidara wakes with a groan and a cough, reaching for his waterskin.

If you covered your mouth, you’d lose less moisture, Sasori hisses.

Oh shut up, Deidara croaks. When was the last time you were thirsty?

He snaps Hiruko’s head upwards—and strikes with his scorpion tail. Deidara dodges in the last moment. The boy lands on his feet, sand whisking left and right.

My, my, look who’s in a bad mood today.

Keep moving.

Deidara pops a food pill into his mouth while walking. His steps are certain and he seems unfazed by his injury.

Soon the One Tail will be ours, Deidara says. Now cheer up, my man, hm?

He replies nothing. For him, there is only necessity, only tools, and no toys. Power yields him no pleasure, it is but to make, and make for eternity. For is he not eternal?

iii.

The jinchūriki is dead and the Shukaku is theirs.

Deidara sits on the corpse, tapping his foot, eyes wide and grin stretching his lips. Outside the gate, their enemies. And she. Granny Chiyo. Sasori does not move. Just waits. It’s inevitable now. She must die at his hand.

Tremors crack the stone and the gate shatters open in an explosion of rock.

Deidara blathers on about art. Then he takes off with the corpse, luring the other jinchūriki along. It leaves the girl and Chiyo to him. They wait, he sees them whispering, discussing him. No emotion stirs. He’s hollow from his toes to his head.

Then they fight.

He doesn’t hold back. He says, My own grandmother, I wouldn’t feel anything if I killed her, and he knows it to be true. Chiyo speaks of his father, of his mother, the puppets he first made of them now at her command, he remembers how he drew them around himself, remembers the moment he realised they would not come back, remembers it all. He stares at her and attacks again. Her eyes have dimmed, but the love in them has not. And perhaps that, is the worst of it.  

He is not as they are, he’s but an echo of what he was and wished. The desert has never left him, or maybe he has never left the desert. Ever on the verge of death while the years stretch on behind him.

They ask him what he is, and he reveals his body to them. He stands bare before them, bereft of miracle or mystery. Not quite a puppet. Never to be finished for he needs this last clump of human flesh. He’s made himself—and he sees the dread in their eyes—the only thing he could be.

They continue to fight. It is time to end this.

When he lies dying between the puppets of his father and mother, consciousness bleeding out of him, he thinks, Deidara might’ve been right after all.

vi.

It’s the first night on their way to Sunagakure. The last of dusk has faded and the first stars have risen, piercing the dark blue, rivaling the crescent moon. The air is clear, temperatures dropping rapidly. Coarse hiss of sand all around them, dust of it on their clothes.

One day, even the skies will be empty of stars, Deidara says as they walk. He grins at Hiruko’s open back, right at Sasori, teeth gleaming pearly in the moonlight. My man, imagine you could watch that last moment of light!

Nonsense, Sasori says.

Deidara laughs, sound lavish in the near-silence. One day, I will go out like that. With a big, big—he spreads his arms, hands describing a smooth curve—bang! He says it joyously, with anticipation.

For once, Sasori doesn’t doubt him.

You’ll miss me when I’m gone, Deidara adds, crossing his arms behind his head as he walks.

No, Sasori says.

Deidara glances at him and stops.

Impatience flares up in Sasori. They don’t have forever.

Deidara narrows his eyes.

I’m not waiting up on you, Sasori says, spurring Hiruko forward.

After a moment, Deidara follows and continues to prattle. The boy is inexhaustible. It’s only at dawn that he quiets.

They lay themselves to sleep, sheltered behind a dune and the wings of a clay bird. The ends of its feathers seem to graze the night.

He can hear Deidara breathe, quiet but not asleep. Sand swishes as he moves. He peeks over Hiruko’s shell, hair falling softly. His brows are pinched, lips tight.

Sasori wants to ask what this is about. Deidara’s  face blocks out the moonlight. He kisses him. Sasori doesn’t react, waits until the boy draws back.

Why would you give it up, Deidara asks. Your flesh.

Sasori doesn’t look at him. He thinks, I am become art.

Why wouldn’t I? He asks instead.

Deidara looks at him a long while. Then he says, quietly,

To feel alive.

[entergamingxp]

Final Fantasy VII Remake is Like Coming Home to Discover a Whole New World

March 2, 2020 4:00 AM EST

Does Final Fantasy VII Remake truly stack up to the legendary original? Tough to say, but this upcoming remake is off to a very strong start.

I’ll admit, I’m a turn-based JRPG purist; I believe in the depth of strategy that is unmatched in a traditional role-playing game. Very few action RPGs can match, especially considering Square Enix’s last forays into the genre were…less than exemplary. Naturally I was disappointed when Square decided to forgo my beloved ATB gauge system for the allure of fast-paced flashy action. But coming in to try out Final Fantasy VII Remake, I put that bias aside and tackled the game with fresh eyes.

And my verdict? This game has almost completely convinced me of its merit — in both its very existence and why the genre shift was justified.

A quick synopsis of the start of the plot for those who may not be familiar with the original: the game’s story follows Cloud Strife, a mercenary who joins an eco-terrorist organization named AVALANCHE to stop the world-controlling megacorporation Shinra from using the planet’s life essence as an energy source.

“This game has almost completely convinced me of its merit — in both its very existence and why the genre shift was justified.”

As this is an action RPG, enemies are scattered throughout the environment and you immediately engage with them once you’re in range. Basic combos are executed using the Square button and holding it down lets off attacks that hit multiple opponents. You also can target groups of enemies or sections on a single enemy for more precision by using R3 to lock on.

There are special abilities that each party member possesses, which are accessed through the Triangle button. For instance, Cloud can use Triangle to switch between his Punisher and Operator stances; the latter is great for its fast movement and attack speed while the former is much slower yet capable of extremely powerful blows. Other examples are Barret’s Overcharge, Tifa’s Uppercut, and Aerith’s Tempest.

Remember how I said that Square did away with ATB gauges? Well, that’s not exactly accurate. Each party member has at least two empty ATB gauges, which fill as you attack and take damage. These gauges, much like in the original Final Fantasy VII, are your lifeblood. You cannot take any action other than Attack or Limit if there is not at least one gauge filled. Therefore, one of the biggest and most pulse pounding aspects of combat is the constant switching between characters to utilize these gauges as they fill up.

Once at least one gauge fills, you can enter Tactical Mode, which lets you choose between Abilities, Spells, and Items as well as later options such as Summons and Limit Breaks (though Limits behave a bit differently). Abilities are where a variety of powerful attacks are located, each with its own unique effect. Choosing which Ability to use at the right moment and figuring out how to mitigate each one’s ATB cost is one of the keys to victory.

Next are Spells, which is magic derived from orbs of coalesced lifestream (the lifeblood of the planet Gaia) called Materia. Each Spell uses one gauge and are extremely important in combat since they can bypass a high physical defense and deal major damage. Many enemies also have elemental weaknesses and casting the right spell lets you take full advantage of that. For instance, mech enemies are weak to Thunder, so casting that Spell deals bonus damage. The Items option lets you use items collected or purchased during battle and they basically have no charge time, making them extremely useful in a pinch.

“These gauges, much like in the original Final Fantasy VII, are your lifeblood.”

Summons make their return in this game and unlike in vanilla Final Fantasy VII, they play a much deeper role in battle. You use all your ATB gauges to Summon and then your summoned ally stays for a set period of time, denoted by a special gauge that drains over time. They automatically attack enemies when summoned, though you can set certain patterns for them. When the gauge expires, they leave after casting one final Summon Spell on the enemy.

Limit Breaks return as well, and they’re just as flashy as you remember. Each character has a unique Limit with its own range and effect. Unlike any other move, you can use Limits no matter what. And also unlike the original game, Limits do not replace the Attack option, meaning you can actually save them until you need to break them out during a key moment.

Materia as mentioned before in relation to Spells, is the main mechanic of Final Fantasy VII Remake as it serves as the magic system. In order to use a Materia it must be equipped to a piece of equipment, which has a set amount of Materia slots: some linked, and others unlinked. Just as in the original FFVII, the majority of Materia Spells that can be used in combat are attack spells (such as Fire or Thunder), buff spells (like Protect), and healing spells (like Cure) among other types. There’s also a special type called Support Materia that is used to augment the effects of battle usable Spells and can do so through linked Materia slots. For instance, if you link a support spell that raises magic damage dealt with a Fire attack Materia, that will enhance the power of that Fire. However if you simply equip those same two Materia into unlinked slots, the support one will have no effect.

A brand new game mechanic, which seems to be inspired from later Final Fantasy games (particularly Final Fantasy XIII), is called Staggered. During a sortie, each enemy has a Pressured Gauge underneath their HP Gauge. As you attack enemies that gauge slowly fills, with some Abilities having the effect of greatly increasing it. Once it fills up, the opponent is Staggered and they topple over completely unguarded, leaving them wide open to critical damage. It’s an excellent system that’s perfectly crafted to handle stronger enemies and bosses and is absolutely essential for defeating them in Final Fantasy VII Remake.

As I adapted to the genre shift and learned the ins and outs of combat through trial and error, it occurred to me how well-suited this change to action-style gameplay was to Remake. Allowing characters to move freely around the battlefield and attack at will adds this sort of frenetic pacing to combat. Coupled with the fun and often funny dialogue between characters during and post-battle, it makes the whole game feel more alive and exhilarating. For new players, this means they can jump right into the fray without having to adjust to turn-based combat that slows downs the pacing of the missions. And for the returning players, it better represents how the game felt to us when we first played it, versus how it would actually play if they remained completely faithful to the classic ATB turn-based system.

One other concern was alleviated for me as well, which was the difficulty of each sortie. Many action RPGs are notorious for brain AI reducing the game to a mind numbing button-mash fest. While there is a scale of weak to strong enemies in any given group, Final Fantasy VII Remake does an excellent job mixing up the red-shirts with some truly challenging combatants that force you to carefully consider each move, lest you be cut down prematurely. It’s refreshing to play such a strategic action title, an experience I haven’t felt since my last foray into the Tale of franchise.

“Final Fantasy VII Remake does an excellent job mixing up the red-shirts with some truly challenging combatants that force you to carefully consider each move.”

During my extended session with Final Fantasy VII Remake, I was able to play through the entirety of Chapter One, and sections of Chapter Two, Seven, and Ten. Chapter One covers the famous Sector 7 Mako Reactor opening mission, which opens in the same pulse pounding fanfare that fans of the original game will fondly remember. The entire firstchapter is paced perfectly as you learn the ropes of combat and fight off waves of enemies.

The AVALANCHE members are all brimming with charm and personality in every single interaction (especially Jessie!), but the banter between Cloud and Barret cannot be understated as the two play off each other very well. Easily one of my favorite moments is when Barret needs to walk between Cloud and Jessie but makes the extra effort of pushing Cloud to the side with his gun arm. Even when Barret isn’t constantly questioning Cloud’s integrity, he still manages to convey his hostility through body language cues, and I live for that kind of character storytelling, folks.

The mission culminates in the game’s first boss battle against the Scorpion Sentinel and the fight pulls no punches (and don’t worry vets, Cloud doesn’t give you completely wrong advice about when to attack it). The battle also serves as an effective way to test your skills so far, whether you understand Materia, the ATB Gauge system, how to use each characters’ strengths effectively during battle, and other hallmarks from the original game

This chapter really sets in what to expect from Remake. While newcomers will have the chance to fall in love with the characters, story, and gameplay, returning veterans can look forward to plenty of surprises and new expansions to the plot’s presentation.

Chapter Two starts right after the Mako Reactor 7 blows up as AVALANCHE splits up to meet back at their base of operations. Taking control of Cloud again, I was tasked with navigating through the rubble of the area immediately surrounding the reactor. As I played through this section, I recalled what scenarist Kazushige Nojima said about how the presentation differs in the remake version versus the original, the latter which required players to use their imagination to supplement the graphical limitations of the PlayStation.

This approach to Remake’s presentation permeates every aspect of the game. As Cloud passes by civilians, you hear their frightened conversations as they worry for their safety and their loved ones. A couple pieces of dialogue really stood out to me in particular: a man fretting about his son who lives mere blocks away from the destroyed area around the reactor, and a now displaced family worrying about where they’ll go next.

Between moments like these and certain other events that I won’t spoil here, human elements are extremely pervasive in Final Fantasy VII Remake and serve to add an almost intimate touch to these large scale events. It’s a reminder that they have a huge impact on everyday people and that impact is extremely important — you can’t, and shouldn’t, turn a blind eye to it.

That said, in terms of gameplay, this section is the weakest. Though there are some great skirmishes, a standout for me being the tense and strategic fights with the Huntsman enemies, this section feels like it’s padded out a bit too much. What really makes it so noticeable is that Cloud is alone, so there’s no banter to distract you from wave after wave of enemies.

“Human elements are extremely pervasive in Final Fantasy VII Remake and serve to add an almost intimate touch to these large scale events.”

The next portion I played was Chapter Seven, which is the Sector 5 Mako Reactor mission starring Cloud, Barret, and newcomer Tifa. Immediately I noticed a substantial difference in the way Cloud and Barret interacted, the two being far more relaxed and comfortable around each other. Aiding that is Tifa, whose naturally soothing yet no nonsense presence balances well with the gruff men.

Early on the party is made aware of a new super combat mech, called the Air Buster, and quickly comes across a way to sabotage it before their inevitable clash. There are several rooms that contain a key card. One key card can be exchanged for a debuff on Air Buster (it takes away a component and sends it to the disposal room) and there are a few choices available: M Units that give the party items during the fight, AI Programming which slows down the mech’s finger beams and general speed, and the Big Bomber Shells that reduces the amount of times it can use its strongest attack.

Later on the team encountered two rooms, one that lead to the boss and the other to the disposal room. They’re both blocked by locks on the door that use a lever system to unlock. In other words: a mini-game! And even something as simple as a lever puzzle had tons of dialogue variation and banter to keep you entertained long after you finish.

As an aside, somewhere located in one of these rooms is a vending machine called “Potions and Music,” which lets players purchase a variety of battle items as well as soundtracks from the game to listen to on the side. The aesthetic of the kiosk is just great, with this funky sort of jazzy music that plays while you shop, and it’s a simple yet useful quality of life feature to be able to replenish items in combat zones.

The main attraction, the Air Buster, really is as grand and powerful as you’d expect. The entire fight is crafted to be difficult with a variety of attacks and sequences that force you to switch between characters and best use their abilities once again, as well as constantly heal, use Limits, Spells, or even Summons. There are so many strategic options at play and it’s exhilarating to figure out what works best for you in the heat of battle.

The final segment I played, which comes from Chapter Ten, was relatively short. It starts with Cloud waking up to find both Tifa and Aerith still knocked out. You then have the choice to approach one of the two ladies and wake them up. This is mere conjecture at this point, but I believe that the scene is related to affection points. For those not in the know, these are hidden point values that determine how certain events unfold later on between parties members.

After that came the Abzu boss, the first non-mech one I fought in this section and it was quite the challenge. Its high physical attack allowed it to deal massive damage to anyone close by. But Aerith is a great counter for this boss, as she both attacks from a distance and has high magic which compliments her healing Spells well. As I fought Abzu I noticed how differently it moved from the mech bosses; because it was a flesh and blood foe, it moved much faster and way more erratically. This was by far the hardest boss I battled in this play session, but that made my victory all the more satisfying once I eventually defeated it.

“This is a remake that will impress both newcomers and veterans in equal measures — a task very few games of its kind are able to pull off.”

As I played, I soaked in the gorgeous graphics and luscious details of each environment in Final Fantasy VII Remake, admiring how they lovingly reflect the aesthetics of the original while adding a depth that only current-gen technology could pull off. However, because of how far graphics have come since those days, much less is left to the player’s imagination, which means much more care and thought had to be given to how the story elements and character animations would be presented.

I mentioned before about one of my favorite scenes involving Barret pushing Cloud out the way with his gun arm. Such a scene was never present in vanilla FFVII; we only had his words to reflect his hostility towards Cloud. And believe me, the dialogue in this remake is fantastic. But the inclusion of non-verbal moments like that, that convey how characters feel about each other and the broader happenings of the events unfolding around them, shows that the development team considered the best approach to portraying things that now must be explicitly shown. Seeing that level of attention to detail given to some of my favorite characters in gaming made me that much more appreciative of what Remake has to offer.

Despite those few moments of obvious padding, Final Fantasy VII Remake is a game full of life and details. It takes the fond memories and rich world building that made the original Final Fantasy VII so beloved and manages to improve upon it in nearly every aspect, while still making the protagonists, villains, Midgar and its denizens feel fresh and exciting. This is a remake that will impress both newcomers and veterans in equal measures — a task very few games of its kind are able to pull off.

Final Fantasy VII Remake will release for PS4 on April 10, 2020. For more on the game, check out why Final Fantasy VII Remake may have won over our Features Editor Ryan Meitzler, and why Staff Writer Cameron Hawkins believes it looks to be the biggest achievement for JRPGs in over a decade.

March 2, 2020 4:00 AM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/03/final-fantasy-vii-remake-is-like-coming-home-to-discover-a-whole-new-world/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=final-fantasy-vii-remake-is-like-coming-home-to-discover-a-whole-new-world