#when you gasp your final breaths on the battlefield. weak and afraid. know that it is the wizard you have to blame for your lack of immunity

[vamprisms]

i love having minthara in my party because she will just say insane shit unprompted.

[dark-and-kawaii]

─ ⊹ ⊱ The Realization ⊰ ⊹ ─

Prt. 1

Summary: Zevlor awaits for Lofn to return, and as she returns he finds her collapsing into his arms~

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ Pairing: Zevlor x F!Tav/Lofn

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ Content: Hurt/Comfort - Injury - Worried Zevlor - Realizing Feelings

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ Notes: Please Enjoy xoxo

The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over the druids grove, and the forest was growing quiet as all the animals and insects settled in for the night. Her steps were unsteady, and she nearly fell several times as she made it to the gates that kept those inside safe, but still she pushed herself forward, knowing that it was not much further.

Lofn leaned her hand against the wall next to the gate, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, her vision blurry before she steadied herself, wiping the sweat that adorned head with a shaky hand. Her entire body ached, and the exhaustion threatened to overcome her at any moment, but she was not weak, she wouldn't allow herself to give into that feeling… not when she was so close to telling Zevlor the good news.

As she made her way into the grove, she saw Zevlor standing at the ready, the worry on his face clear. He opened his mouth to say something, but she put up her hand to stop him, “I'm fine, please. Don't worry about me.”

He swallowed whatever he was going to say and simply nodded his head, “I assume you have something to report then...?”

“I do,” She smiled, her body slowly moving towards him, her hips swaying with that powerful, yet confident walk of hers, “The goblins... The goblin camp…” each step feeling heavier than the last, her words getting more strained as she pushed herself, “it's clear. You and your people... you can start your…”

“Lofn, are you well?” Zevlor's voice was filled with disquiet as he reached out to steady her. She tried to nod, to reassure him, but her body betrayed her. With a stuttering “yes,” her knees buckled giving way as her vision finally faded. The last thing she remembered was the warmth of Zevlor's arms around her as she collapsed.

Catching her just in time, his strong arms cradled her gently as he lowered Lofn to the ground. Her head came to rest on his knee, and he bent over her, his eyes searching her face for any sign of what was wrong. She was pale, her skin cold and clammy to the touch, “Lofn! What is it? What's wrong?” his voice urgent, but she didn't respond-

“Lofn!?” His voice cracked with the sudden realization of her condition.

Her hand slowly came up to grip her side subconsciously, and as his gaze followed the movement, that's when he saw it- blood, dark and ominous, pooling around her fingers, seeping through her clothes... the mere thought of losing her made his stomach churn...

“Oh Gods... No…” he whispered, his hands trembling, “no…” Being the commander of the Hellriders, Zevlor had seen many things, been on the battlefield countless times, but this- this was different... Zevlor had been trained to remain calm, to focus on the situation, to stay in control... But right now he couldn't, and he didn't care, the thought of her dying- “Tilly!” he shouted, cutting off his own thoughts, his voice carrying through the grove.

“Commander!-“ Tilly responded, rushing up to him, her gaze shifting from Zevlor to Lofn, “Oh- Oh Gods, Sir, I- what happened-?!”

“She's been injured.” Zevlor spoke quietly, the emotion clear in his voice. He couldn't look up, couldn't meet her eyes, far too afraid that if he looked away Lofn's heart would stop beating, “Badly.” he replied, his voice tight with fear as he quickly began to work on Lofn's leather armor, careful not to cause more damage. When he pulled the leather corset away, it revealed a gruesome wound. The edges were dark and swollen, purpleish green veins pulsating beneath the skin around the wound as if she had been poisoned... This was out of either of their hands, and they both knew it.

Zevlor's jaw clenched, they'd need one of the druids... But the druids all looked at the them like foulboods now too... No, they would save her- after everything she had done for them...

“Tilly…” He hesitated for a second fearing the worst should they deny their plead, “Fetch one of the Druids.”

“But! The druids hate us and wish to see us leave! They will not listen to-“

“Explain the situation. They can't ignore this nor will I let her die because the Druids are blinded by their pride- Or whatever it is that's going on with them.” He growled, the frustration and anger evident in his tone.

Tilly's mouth shut, and her expression softened as she realized the situation. With a quick nod, she turned and ran, disappearing down the path towards the center of the grove, leaving Zevlor alone with Lofn.

“Lofn, stay with me,” his hand pressed gently against the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. She winced at the contact, and her face twisted in pain, her mouth gasping, “Forgive me.” he murmured, “Help is coming. Just hold on.”

“I'm sorry…” her voice was barely audible as she took a shallow, ragged breath.

“Don't be," he replied, his voice firm, You risked yourself to help us- to protect and save us. Now let us save you.”

A small smile touched her lips, before she faded once again into unconsciousness.

Zevlor watched her silently, his gaze fixed on her.

Minutes felt like hours as Zevlor held Lofn, his hands slick with her blood until finally Tilly returned, a druid in tow. Rath's expression was grim as he knelt beside Lofn, his hands glowing with healing magic, “Poison, and a nasty one too.”

“Can you save her?” Zevlor asked.

Rath looked up at Zevlor, “It will be difficult, but yes. I can save her.”

Zevlor moved his hand, allowing Rath to place his over the wound... The older tiefling watched anxiously as the druid worked, his heart in his throat.

After what felt like an eternity, the glow of his magic faded, and he looked up at Zevlor. “The poison was strong, but I've done what I can. She needs rest and time to heal. Keep her warm and let her sleep.”

“Thank you, Rath.” Zevlor nodded, relief flooding through him. Gently and attentively, he picked Lofn up, cradling her in his arms as he carried her back to where he slept, away from the others where she could get some rest and privacy. She had sacrificed her safety for them all, so sacrificing his bed roll was a small price to pay.

As he laid her down carefully, he pulled the blankets over her, his hands delicate so as not to wake her, “I know you can't hear me, but thank you… For everything.”

Pulling up his wooden chair, Zevlor sat by Lofn's side, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but unwilling to leave her for even a moment. The night had grown quiet, the occasional crackle from the candles, water dripping the caves walls, and the faint echo of the wind in the trees the only sounds to be heard.

For a moment he pressed his face into his hands, the weight of blaming himself for all the suffering that had come to pass heavy on his soul. As his eyes were shut an image of Lofn flashed across his mind, the smile on her face, the way her body swayed as she danced with the children, her eyes bright with wonder. The sound of her laugh filled his ears, and the feeling of her warmth as they sat together on the edge of the water. She was a light in the darkness that had been cast over their people…

And then he saw her laying before him, bloody and beaten, and the tears welled in his eyes. It wasn't her fault, he is the one who told her about their struggles. She had nothing to do with this, and yet... She refused to leave, choosing instead to stay and fight for those she didn't even know.

Hours passed, and Zevlor could feel how his eyelids grew heavy, how his mind had grown so weary, so lost in a labyrinth of thoughts, that the world around him had blurred into a hazy dream. He blinked, suddenly aware of a gentle touch on his cheek. Lofn's face materialized before him, her soothing voice whispering, “Don't blame yourself.” his own subconscious reaching out to console him. He wasn't sure if this tender moment was real or merely a product of his fatigued mind, but the warmth of her hand on his skin felt achingly real.

But as his head began to nod, and the illusion faded…

A sudden sound caught his attention- a deep breath from Lofn. His hand moved of its own accord, reaching out to gently press against her brow, checking for any sign of fever. As his calloused fingers brushed her skin, Lofn stirred, her lips parting as a single word escaped in a barely audible murmur.

“Zevlor...”

The sound of his name, uttered with such tenderness and vulnerability, sent a shiver coursing through Zevlor's body. His tail twitched, the spaded tip rising and quivering as a flush of warmth suffused his cheeks, darkening their hue. The melodic quality of her voice, even in slumber, was alluring, drawing him in closer to her. His hand poised to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, but just as his fingers were about to make contact, he froze, realization dawning upon him like a bucket of icy water.

What was he doing?

This was highly inappropriate, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. Lofn was so young, her life stretching out before her like an endless road, while his own had already traversed so many winding paths. He had responsibilities forhis people, while she had no ties, no allegiance, her destiny hers to choose. She had a future ahead of her, the whole world, and he-

Zevlor closed his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath as he tried to quell the emotions that raged within him.

He was old enough to be her father, the voice whispered.

The realization hit him like a blow to the chest, stealing his breath and causing his heart to stumble in its rhythm. He had caught feelings for her- feelings that ran deeper than mere gratitude or camaraderie. Somewhere along the way, his admiration for her bravery, strength, and beauty had grown into something more. It was a dangerous path, one he hadn't intended to tread, but now that he was here, he couldn't deny the truth of it. These emotions, unbidden and unexpected, had taken root within him, blossoming in the fertile soil of her unwavering courage and selflessness.

Zevlor's hand fell away from Lofn's face, his fingers curling into a tight fist. How could he have allowed this to happen? He was supposed to be a leader, his priorities getting everyone to Baldur’s Gate, not a lovestruck fool pining after one so much younger than him.

Yet, as he gazed upon her peaceful features, bathed in the soft glow of the candles, he knew that denial was futile. His heart had betrayed him, surrendering to emotions he had long thought himself incapable of feeling.

With a heavy sigh, Zevlor settled back into the chair, he knew he had to be careful, to keep these feelings in check. Lofn deserved better than to be burdened with the affections of an older tiefling. She deserves someone who could provide for her, who would not put her in danger and endanger her life- a non foulblood. He laughed, the bitterness evident, he was a fool for even thinking she could care for him the same…

With a deep breath, Zevlor would be there for her, as a friend, a protector, whatever she needed. And perhaps, in time, he would find a way to reconcile his feelings, to find peace in simply being part of her world. For now, that was enough.

As the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, their warm light filtered through the cracks of the cave, gently rousing Lofn from her slumber. Her long lashes fluttered open, blinking away the lingering haze of sleep as her vision slowly came into focus. Disoriented, she leaned up on the bedroll, her brow furrowing as she took in her unfamiliar surroundings.

This wasn't her tent.

Lofn's gaze darted around the dimly lit space, recognition dawning as she realized she was in the cave where Zevlor had been staying. Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced down, noticing the bedroll beneath her- Zevlor’s bedroll. A flush of heat crept up her neck, blooming across her cheeks as her pulse quickened, hammering in her ears.

Her eyes were drawn to the stark white bandages wrapped around her torso, and the pieces fell into place. Zevlor must have tended to her wounds, removing her leather armor to... A wave of embarrassment washed over her, her face darkening to a crimson hue as she buried her face in the thin blanket, trying to hide from the realization.

How foolish she must have looked, collapsing into his arms… She was stronger than that, she was a Thay! The ancient red dragons bloodline coursed through her veins! The humiliation stung more than her injuries, the wound to her pride far greater than the cut across her ribs…

Yet, as the fabric enveloped her, a familiar scent enveloped her senses- a warm, earthy aroma mixed with a hint of sweat that was distinctly Zevlor. Unbidden, her mind conjured images of him carefully dressing her wounds, his calloused hands gentle yet firm as they worked. Heat pooled in her chest, spreading through her body like a slow burn, and she found herself clinging to the blanket, breathing in his lingering essence.

Lofn couldn't help but remember the warmth of his arms as he held her… Her eyes softened, and she slowly lowered the blanket, her gaze catching on Zevlor's sleeping form. He was slumped in a chair beside her, his head lolled forward, a few stray strands of hair escaping his ponytail to frame his ruggedly handsome face. Even in repose, his grip remained firm on the hilt of his sword, a silent testament to the vigil he had kept over her.

Slowly, carefully, she shifted, creeping up next to him on the bedroll. Her knees pressed into the soft fabric as she steadied herself on all fours, leaning over to get a closer look at him. Every crease and ridge that adorned his handsome face seemed to tell a story, each one a testament to the life he had lived.

He was right there, just a few inches away, and the closeness made her heart flutter. Her fingers itched to reach out, to trace the contours of his face- to commit every crease, every ridge, to memory.

And so she did.

Settling back on her knees, her breath caught in her throat as she extended a tentative hand. Her fingers brushing gently against his hair as she tucked the stray strands behind his ear, the touch as soft as a whisper.

Lofn's fingers lingered, tracing the curve of his cheekbone, her thumb grazing the corner of his lips as she marveled at the depth of her feelings for this man who had become so much more than just some tiefling. She realized with a startling clarity, he had become the very beating of her heart.

A subtle tremor ran through Zevlor’s body, rousing him from the depths of slumber. His eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly as Lofn's radiant visage came into focus, “Lofn?” his voice thick with sleep. Her hand paused mid motion, caught in the act of tucking his hair back, the rebellious strands once again falling across his face.

His eyes widened slightly, his pulse quickening, and his cheeks darkening. He hadn't expected her to wake so soon, much less to find her so close. His mouth opened, then closed again, his tongue tied, as if he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come.

Every ridge and contour was a temptation for her fingertips as they danced along his face, the touch feather light. And his lips... so full and inviting, so perfectly kissable. They seemed to beckon her closer, whispering of untold pleasures that awaited.

“Good morning~" she whispered, her voice soft and breathy, a melody for his ears alone before she leaned closer, her eyes drifting shut as she pressed her lips to his. The kiss was chaste, a fleeting touch that seemed to last an eternity, and the sweetness of it nearly brought her to tears. It was as though she had found her home, despite being a princess- heir to the Thay throne, he felt more like home than anything had ever been.

[anonymousfiction211]

We saw Loki watch y/n cry after his "death", let's reverse roles. Y/n runs happily to him, thinking they won, hugging him, when an arrow goes straight through her heart. He quickly catches her. He can heal her right? He tries but it's hurting her even more. All he can do is watch as his s/o died in his arms. He was going to propose to her. One last I Love You before his brother force him up. He sees her around his room, but she's not really there. He is, with that pain always in his chest.

Word count: 1.982 words Warnings: Angst and death A/N: Not going to lie, it broke my heart a little just thinking about Loki losing his s/o. Thanks for the request, hope you like it!

What’s happening? The battle was gruesome, but it was almost done. The dark elves were almost wiped from the battlefield. Luckily for Loki, cause he had big plans tonight. He became nervous just thinking about it. He still had to write the speech he would give you. Even with his sense for words, he had failed to find the right ones to express how much you meant to him. Turning his thoughts back to the battle he saw that victory was within hand’s reach. He watched as his brother’s hammer knocked down the last remaining elves. He rolled his eyes when he saw his brother show off as always. He quickly searched the battlefield for you. He had lost you half way through the battle, but knew you were able to handle yourself. You were strong and a force not to be messed with, he loved that about you. When he looked around he didn’t see you anywhere. He started to panic. You wouldn’t gotten hurt, right? Or worse? No, no, you wouldn’t. Then he heard your voice and he relaxed immediately. ‘Loki!’ you yelled at him from on top of the hill next to him. He looked up and saw you quickly ran down the hill towards him. He started to ran towards you, he couldn’t wait to have you safe in his arms again. And hopefully after tonight you would be in his arms for the rest of his life. A big smile appeared on your face when you saw him running towards you, and he matched your smile.

Loki stopped in his tracks right at the bottom off the hill opened his arms widely. You were close and he knew how much you liked to jump in his arms. He would catch you and not let you go for a very long time. He froze when he heard you cry out hard, a sudden feeling of pain shot through his chest when he heard the horrible sound. It happened all so fast. He saw an arrow through your heart. Blood started to soak your clothes red and you fell down hard. He heard a sadistic laugh and saw an elf on top of the hill with a bow. The elf was knocked down immediately with a lightning blast. Realizing what had happened Loki immediately rushed to your side. You had pulled the arrow from you and turned on your back. Your breathing was ragged and tears were starting to stream down your cheeks. ‘NO, NO, NO he yelled while examining your wound. ‘Ssh, darling I got you’ he tried to sooth you. He immediately started to work his seidr. He would heal you, he had done it plenty times before. But his wound was more serious than all the others, but if he focused he could do it. He must, he had no other choice.

He was shocked when you started to cry in agony. ‘Hold on, hold on.. I can do this. Just hold on, I can do this’ he started to chant over and over again. He felt you grab his hand and he looked at you. ‘Loki..’ you whispered to him in a weak voice. ‘No, don’t. Don’t you dare!’ you squeezed his hand tighter and he knew he couldn’t fix this. He felt his tears started to flow freely. He held you closer to him ‘I’m so sorry’ he cried. ‘It’s okay, love. Just look at me’ you told him. He gazed into your beautiful blue eyes, you were clearly in pain but your look was full of love when his eyes met yours. ‘Listen, there was nothing you could have done!’ you told him sternly. His mind was racing, if he just abandoned his station and searched for you. If he just saw the elf sooner, if only he… he was interrupted when he felt your hand brushing away the tears from is cheeks. ‘Don’t blame yourself, this wasn’t your fault’ you tried to reassure him. ‘Darling, you can’t leave me. Please don’t leave me’ he begged of you. ‘It’s my time, I guess. Sorry to ruin your surprise tonight’ you chuckled. You smiled weakly at him ‘Hush love, this isn’t forever. I will see you again in Valhalla’ you told him.  

He felt your body starting to get colder. You hadn’t much time he realized. He kissed your lips, knowing it would be the last time he could. He poured everything he had into that last kissed. For he loved you more than anything in the world. The way you looked at him like he was the only person in the room. The way you talked, walked and had stood by him through everything. The way your cunning mind challenged him and how you weren’t afraid to speak your thoughts. How your body felt pressed against him in bed, your lips against his. How you trusted him completely, which to Loki was amazing. Nobody trusted him, but you did blindly. When Loki felt your body starting to grow limb he broke the kiss. Your hand retracted from his cheek ‘Don’t forget how much I love you. Until I see you again, my trickster’ you smirked at him. ‘I love you too’ he whispered defeated. He saw your eyes closing and how you exhaled your final breath. Loki just held you and cuddled you closer, he couldn’t stop crying. How could he ever leave you here? How could he live on without you? Why would he even want to? He didn’t know how much time had passed. But his eyes were starting to hurt. He felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder ‘I’m so sorry, brother’ he whispered to him. He felt Thor drag him on his feet, it startled him. He tried to pull out of his grasp, he wasn’t leaving you. ‘Maybe we can do something, there surely must be something to be done! Some people can come back’ he started to argue. Thor’s grip around him tightened ‘We must go brother, it won’t be long before more elves come’. He felt a harsh wind around him and saw the bright colours of the Bifrost. ‘NOOO’ he screamed. I can’t, not without her!

Loki let out a hard sob and jolted awake. He sat up straight. He noticed that he was covered in sweat and his cheeks were wet. He was breathing rapidly. His eyes scanned the room he was in. It was his own room. Why did he dream that? he wondered. He quickly used his seidr to make himself presentable and searched his room again for you. A wave of relief washed over him when he saw you sitting on his bed reading a book. You looked up at him ‘Why so sad, trickster?’ The sound of your voice calmed him down. It was only a dream he told himself. He was probably just nervous about tonight. You got up from the bed and sat down next to him on the couch. ‘What’s wrong, love?’ Loki pulled his hands through his hair, trying to wrap his mind around the strange dream. ‘Nothing, just a nightmare. I- I thought I had lost you on the battlefield with the elves last year’ he whispered. Thinking back about the dream his chest started to hurt again. He heard you giggle ‘Like you could ever lose me. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. Even if that had happened you know I would just come back to haunt you’ Loki laughed ‘I’m sure you would’ Loki finally fully calmed down. ‘Do you want to postpone your surprise tonight? To get some more rest?’ you asked him. ‘No, but to be honest I can’t wait anymore’ after his nightmare he needed to know that you would be by his side forever. He got up and pulled the little box from the jacket he was wearing. He inhaled deeply and bent down to one knee before you.

‘(Y/N)’ he began. ‘I’ve tried to write this speech a hundred times, but I’m starting to think that the words I could use to express how I feel about you don’t exist. Still, I’m going to try. When I saw you I immediately fell for you. You’re sweet, charming, funny and your mind is cunning. I don’t know how, but everyday I fall more and more in love with you. You make my life brighter and I wouldn’t know what to do without you. I promise you to love you for the rest of my life and to treat you like the queen you are’ He took another deep breath, the nerves were getting to him. ‘Will you make me the happiest man in the Nine Realms and marry me?’ he asked. He opened the box with a golden ring inside of it. The ring was shaped like a snake almost biting it’s own tail, with a small green diamond for the eyes. You gasped when you saw the ring and tears were starting to form in your eyes. You looked at him like the world around you didn’t exist. ‘Yes, of course I’ll marry you’ you answered in a high pitched voice, your voice when you were excited. He was so relieved to hear you say those words, you would be his wife, his queen, forever. ‘I was planning to do this tonight at a candle light dinner on top of the hill, facing the sunset. But I just couldn’t wait any longer’ He laughed at your giddy excitement. ‘Afraid you would lose me?’ you smirked at him. He knew you were teasing but the comment hurt him physically. ‘Always’ he whispered. How could he not? You were everything to him, life would be pointless without you in it. When he looked up at you, you gave him a reassuring smile. ‘When you put this ring on my finger you can stop being afraid. I’ll always be here’ you reassured him. He took the ring from the box and put it around your ringfinger.

Suddenly wholes with green shimmers started to form on your body. You started to disappear in front of him and the green shimmer started to spread around his entire room. He didn’t understand, his room looked like an absolute mess and you were gone. The ring felt on the ground and the sound was deafening to Loki. Was this some sort of attack? He started to panic How did you disappear? Were you kidnapped? Were you okay? He turned around when he heard someone clear his throat. He saw his brother standing in the door opening. He was relieved to see him, he could help him. ‘THOR!’ he yelled. ‘We need to find (Y/N), I don’t know what happened but she just disappeared and..’  he was cut of when Thor walked towards him and grabbed both his shoulders. ‘W- what’s happening? Why aren’t you doing something?’ Loki asked him. The expression of his brother’s face made the pain in his chest increase. ‘Brother…she’s gone’ he spoke with a sad voice. He heard your scream of agony in the back of his mind. Loki stared in shock at his brother ‘No, she’s not. She was JUST HERE!’ he screamed at him. He grabbed Thor’s shoulders and started to shake him a little, hoping to put some sense in him ‘Help me find her! She has to be somewhere. She couldn’t have gone far. We need to get her back! JUST HELP ME!’ he begged his brother. Loki realized he was crying, why was he crying? He would find her, everything will turn out fine. He tried to explain to his brother what happened again ‘I just proposed, we are going to get married. She just vanished, someone took her from me!’ he yelled. His brother looked worryingly at him and he tightened his grip on Loki’s shoulder ‘Loki, you need to stop this. You’re starting to forget what’s real’

[thepaperpanda]

The Bear and the Raven || Ragnar x reader x Rollo

Summary: What will happen when the both brothers fall for you

Warnings: none

Words: 5166

Authors: Cass & Rouge

Request by: @porgsandtheirplace​​ OUR GIRL! ♥

You loved to fight.

Violence and blood were your elements. The act that gave you strength to lead the quiet life back in the settlement when your shield and axe hung on the wall awaiting another big battle.

Even if so-called normal life wasn't your thing, what could you do.

Even as a Lothbrok's shield maiden you deserved the rest to recover from whatever injuries you suffered in the previous battle.

Of course you were lucky enough to be more than just another warrior ready to spill the blood at Ragnar's order.

You were his closest friend, his and his older brother's. Thanks to this privilege, your ordinary days were never boring.

Rollo was practicing with his ax when Bjørn came to ask him for dinner.

"Uncle, the feast is on, and the only person missing among us is you," man's nephew claimed. "Give us the honor of having you in the Great Hall."

Rollo Sigurdsson, son of Sigurd Hring, fearsome Viking warrior, with an impulsive streak, offered the younger man a brief nod of his head. "Need to wash the sweat and dirt first. Let them know I'll attend anytime soon."

Bjørn put his palm to uncle's shoulder. "My father will be glad to see you."

Rollo's glance followed Bjørn who walked away rapidly, rushing back to the feast.

Despite the bandages tightly wrapped around your chest and the general discomfort they as well as wounds brought, you joined the big feast.

You never planned to miss it, even if your legs would be broken beyond healing you would crawl by yourself to the Great hall to celebrate the successful raid.

"HERE SHE IS! AXE IN THE CHEST!," Ragnar yelled loudly, raising his horn as soon as he spotted you enter the building.

If he wasn't your friend you would turn around and simply leave but you only opened your arm and shrugged.

"THAT'S ME!”

Bjørn raised his curved horn as well. "Skål, Y/N!"

Despite Ragnar being his father and role model, Bjørn saw many things Lothbrok did. Including falling for women. Rganar's success with women was pretty impressive, but on the other hand it's hard to say no to him, he was the Earl after all. A very successful and influential.

One of the men gave you a filled horn and laughed at that.

Of course this would happen, your fellow warriors won't let you stay sober today. Maybe it's not such a bad idea. Your body is screaming from the amount of pain it took a few hours ago.

"Skål!," You said loudly, raising a horn at Ragnar and Bjørn's direction.

They all were your little family. Taking a big sip of your drink, you sat down next Ragnar's son and smiled.

"So! Ironside, huh? You made this old aunt proud!," You joked, nudging Bjørn in his side with your elbow.

Bjørn laughed, rolling his head back and hiccuping. "Old aunt? You're only 19 winters old which makes you younger than me," he reminded playfully while nudging your side. "Look! Rollo!"

As he promised his nephew, Rollo stepped in the Great Hall, wrapped in thick furs with his hair pinned in a bun.

You laughed and hissed when he nudged your side.

"Careful Bjørn, I don't have an ironside," you reminded him and smiled, seeing Rollo joining you.

As soon as older Lothbrok sat down, Ragnar wrapped arms around your and his son’s shoulders. "Well! And I was worried you two won't even come to celebrate our victory," he muttered, resting his head on your shoulder.

Rollo observed his brother with concern and cleared his throat before speaking.

"Thus celebrate, my brother!"

Rollo's gaze slipped from Ragnar to you and he fixed it on your eyes.

"My two best people," Ragnar said proudly, looking at you and his brother. "And my son!," He added, moving to Bjørn.

You watched this and giggled.

"I have a feeling he started celebrating way before the feast even started. Can I help you, Rollo?," You asked with a charming smile when you felt his gaze on you.

"You look pretty," the older man claimed and instantly slipped his glance off you, focusing on his chalice.

Bjørn cocked his brow and leaned forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. "You caught his eye."

Rollo downed his mead and nudged his brother's side. "You drunk already? Where's the princess?"

You giggled and patted Bjørn's head on your shoulder. "As much as I'd love that. I am afraid that your uncle is just nice because he is worried I will break his nose with my shield. Like I did during one training,"

"My dear wife is somewhere. Talking to her friends, if I can call them that," Ragnar shrugged, sitting down next to his brother.

"Oh, I remember that," He nodded, patting Rollo's shoulder. "Bjørn, your uncle didn't believe that Y/N could fight. We knew her for years but he was sure she was too weak, so he decided to fight her to prove he was right. He left the fight with a broken nose after meeting the rim of her shield up-close."

Rollo rolled his eyes and growled lowly at his brother's comment. "Would you skip that, brother? It's nothing to be proud of, to be so easily defeated by a woman. Being a woman is good on the battlefield, as they can easily get men distracted with their allures," Rollo stated, and took a bite of the roasted chicken leg.

Ragnar's son laughed loudly, rolling head back, which was a manner of his. "Admit it."

"Admit what?," Rollo frowned.

"She's as good at fighting as you."

"Ha!," Rollo rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Y/N is a good shield maiden but it's me who rock the ax like a Thor rocked Mjölnir.

You laughed but it was fake. Of course he wouldn't nice you in any other way than just a woman. They both wouldn't.

You worked your ass off to get good at what you are doing. Just to get attention from the Lothbrok brothers, you loved them both but apparently they didn't return the feelings.

"I mean, he is right. I am just a shieldmaiden. Just like all other women that fight.”

"Father, tell her something!," Bjørn demanded, slamming his fist on the table, making his chalice fall down and spilled his wine all over the counter.

Ragnar rolled his eyes and got up from his seat.

He walked to you from behind you and placed his hands on your shoulder.

"Our young Y/N is one of the best warriors I know. I am proud to have her fighting by my side," Earl announced and moved closer to your ear to whisper. "And I would be happy to have her by my side forever."

You choked on your drink and looked up at those beautiful, blue eyes. Blushing you nodded, biting your lips.

Rollo clenched hands in the fists under the table. Oh, how jealous he was getting whenever Ragnar treated you like his woman. The truth was you belonged to no one, you were a free woman.

Older Lothbrok knew too well that his brother was more successful and that you'd rather lay your eyes on Ragnar than him.

"Father's right," Bjørn admitted, nodding his head.

You smiled and nodded your head, flattered with all the words you just heard. There even was a slight blush on your cheek.

Finally you felt like all the effort was worth something, you only wished for Rollo to think the same. "Thank you, my friend. Your word are kind and flatter me a lot,"

"I hope they are because this is the truth," Ragnar patted your shoulder.

"I go now, I need to talk with others as well but please, Y/N. Come and find me later. I need to talk to you," he informed you before walking awal.

You let out a breath that you had no idea you were holding in.

Taking another sip of the drink your eyes traveled to Rollo, he looked angry.

"Rollo... Is everything alright? If it's about that silly shield story, I am sorry. I shouldn't say anything about it," you said softly, touching his shoulder.

"No, no, it's not about you, little thing," he assured softly, reaching his hand out to take his chalice, full again as Bjørn refilled it with wine. "Would you want to have a little walk with me? It's too crowded here."

Too crowded? Too crowded for Rollo?

Was it even really possible? Ever since you remember he loved to celebrate and to spend time with everyone else after a successful raid or fight.

Deeply confused you nodded your head with a little smile painted on your lips. "Of course, it will be a pleasure, Rollo."

He got up and walked outside of the Great Hall. He waited for you to join him.

You got up from your seat, smoothing your clothes.

Despite any pain you wanted to look the best. After all you still were a woman, you were a warrior behind the shield but back at home you were a delicate and beautiful creature or at least you hoped so.

"Oh... Fresh air," you let out a deep and smiled, looking up at Rollo.

He nodded, his steel blue eyes fixed on your figure as he looked down at you. "How do you feel? What about your wounds?"

Your arm wrapped around yourself and you shrugged.

"It's good I think. It hurts a lot actually but it's not the first nor last wound. I am used to it. Overall I am doing okay as you can see," you summed up. "How about you? How's the big, angry bear?"

He cocked his brow and chuckled softly at the sweet nickname you used on him. "I'm pretty good, even if I didn't kill as many Christians as I originally wanted to.'

"Don't worry, Rollo. Your brother will make sure that we spill more Christian blood as soon as possible,"

Patting his shoulder you decided to tease him little. "But I am sure I will kill more Chritians than you, Bear. I always do.”

He put his elbow on top of your head. "Hmmm, did anyone say something? I can't see. Is this a wind rumbling?"

You giggled and rolled your eyes. "Oh right, right I forgot. Forgive me Rollo Sigurdsson. You are the greatest warrior of them all, even Gods themselves should be afraid of your mighty ax! Better?"

Rollo simply patted the top of your head. "Much better."

Then, out of sudden, he cupped your cheeks, leaned down and stole a kiss from you.

You gasped, looking at him after he pulled away. What just happened?!

Of course you wanted this, oh so much but you never expected it to ACTUALLY happen.

"I... Rollo...," You blinked and bit your lips gently. "What... What did I do to deserve such an honor?

"I hate seeing my brother hitting on you," Rollo said simply, his thumb brushing soft skin on your cheek. "I hate when you make sweet eyes at him. I deserved you to buy mine," man replied, a deep, throaty sound of his tone vibrating through you.

Your cheek became red and warm under his touch.

This was almost everything you ever wanted, you gave him a shy smile not really sure of what to do now.

"THERE YOU TWO ARE!," Ragnar said happily, looking at you and Rollo. "And I was getting worried you got bored with the feast Y/N," He hummed and gently placed his hand right over your wounds. "Is everything okay with you? Are you in pain?"

You swallowed and shook your head.

"Ragnar," Rollo cleared his throat, "Don't you see, dear brother, that Y/N is speaking with me now? Maybe go and check upon Aslaug, huh?"

Ragnar smiled at and kissed the side of your head, relieved that you're doing just fine. His hands slid down and rested on your waist.

"Y/N is one of my warriors. As a Earl it's my duty to check on her, especially when she suffered the injuries she did," Earl said with a shrug, pulling you a little closer. "I saw Siggy looking and asking for you. I think your lover demands some attention from you, brother."

You looked Rollo and sighed, realizing that he was right. Siggy was always somewhere close. How you could even compare yourself to her.

"Just as much as princess Aslaug demands your attention," Rollo showed his perfectly shaped teeth in a wide, wry grin. "I understand that Earl needs to be frequently checking upon his loyal warriors but you can wait some time until I'll finish my businesses with her, right?"

Oh Gods. They were fighting. Fighting over you! You couldn't help but feel pride from this yet you felt scared as well. You loved both of them and didn't want them to fight when you knew that picking one of them will be impossible.

"Aslaug sits quietly in her room when your little toy walks around looking for you. As a Earl, I have my business with her as well," Ragnar growled.

Rollo smiled softly at you and then shifted aside, simply pushing Ragnar's shoulder.

"So wait. I was first. Let's behave like adults, not like savages!"

"I don't feel so good," you said, quickly getting their attention. "I... I think my body cannot take any more for today. I should return to my home and rest."

You didn't want to go and you felt just fine but knowing that they care about you, gave the opportunity to create the distraction from brotherly quarrel.

Ragnar looked at you with worry in those deep blue eyes. "Do you want me to escort you back?"

"I can walk you back to your hut as well, Y/N," Rollo offered immediately, his cold glance fell on his younger brother. "Whatever you wish, my dear."

"I.... I... Uhm," You didn't expect them to offer the escort and find another reason to fight. This wasn't planned at all but you had to somehow get away without a war.

Looking around you smiled seeing Bjørn leaving the building, he was for sure looking for his father and uncle. Oh he was a lifesaver not only on the battlefield.

"Bjørn! My friend, can I ask you for a little help. My wounds wear me off really quickly. Would you be so kind to help me get back to my home?"

Rollo, hearing you asking Bjørn to escort you back home, blinked a few times and snorted loudly.

Bjørn quickly joined the trio and rested his hands on hips, tilting head aside. "With pleasure," the young man offered his arm.

Ragnar didn't hide his surprise, looking at you with a soft frown to soon raise his eyebrows.

"Thank you, love. This is so kind of you," You nodded your head, linking arms with Raganr's son. "I am really sorry for making you leave the feast but I was afraid I won't make it back home alone," you said quietly, trying your best to sound weak.

"No problem, actually I left to find father and uncle," Bjørn replied softly and walked away with you, taking a sandy path leading to the hut of yours.

Rollo crossed his huge arms over his chest. "Are you happy? I hope you are. You shouldn't be called Earl but rather a mood killer," Bear pushed his side against Ragnar's.

Ragnar let out an annoyed laugh and returned to gesture at his brother.

"I did nothing. You were the one snarling like a hungry bear at his prey. Time to learn to be gentle with the woman, my brother," he summed up with a short shrug before patting Rollo's shoulder. "Just so you know. She will be mine to warm my bed."

With those words Ragnar gave his older brother one last smile before going back inside.

"Dick!," Rollo called after his brother.

Meantime, Bjørn walked you home and stopped in front of your little hut. "You're safe now but I have a strong feeling within me you did it on purpose, Y/N."

"I had to run away so the Raven and Bear won't rip me apart in a fight between them," You told him honestly letting out a sigh of relief that you somehow got away from that crazy situation.

"Mmmm, the situation is far more complicated as I can see, isn't it?," He chuckled and ruffled your hair a little. "I've suspected for some time that there is something going on between you and my father. Aslaug caught him staring at you too many times."

You laughed awkwardly and nodded.

"Trust me. I felt his as well as hers on me all the time," sighing deeply you rubbed your face and smiled at him.

"Go now. Celebrate for both of us, ok? I'll just lie down and rest.”

"Are you sure? I'm not certain if I should leave a little shield maiden alone. She might get herself harmed," Bjørn joked and smoothly shifted aside, avoiding the blow you aimed with your fist.

You laughed softly.

"I promise to be a good shield maiden and go to bed so I won't hurt myself. Is it enough for Bjørn ironside?"

He offered the nod. "Enough for me to leave you by your own. Good night."

After these words he walked back into the direction of Great Hall.

You smiled and shook your head, getting inside. Slowly you lied down in the bed, nuzzling to the pillows and furs you placed there. Finally there is peace and quiet. After hours of thinking about everything; the brothers, the kiss, the fight and Rollo's words you finally drifted into sleep.

Few days passed.

You stayed away from Ragnar and Rollo, too busy with taking care of your house and wounds not wanting them to get any worse.

There were a lot of thoughts in your head, you kept thinking about the night of the feast. You needed a way to somehow be with both or just be alone.

"How are you doing today! Ready for me to look at those beauties?," Your friend the healer asked happily.

Rolling your eyes you groaned. "I need to be," you chuckled. "Let's get to it."

Rollo was pretty surprised as you stopped talking with him. But, thankfully, you hadn't been talking with Ragnar either.

The Bear decided to pay you a visit, to speak with you about his feelings. Rollo even thought about stealing one of the necklaces they brought from the raid in Mercia, and he did.

Luckily, his brother didn't notice one missing item, or at least pretended.

Rollo walked out of settlement and headed right to your hut. He was about to walk closer, but he stopped' you weren't alone.

You hissed at the feeling of bandages being peeled off of your wounds. The healer tired her best to work carefully with you.

"Have you ever been in love?,” You asked suddenly, looking at your friend.

"Oh! With many, too bad they did not return the feeling or return at all?," She shrugged with a smile.

You rolled your eyes.

"Have you ever been in love with two men? Brother to be exact?"

The healer stopped whatever she was doing and looked at you with a smug smile.

"Oh! You love Ragnar and his brother don't you.”

Your face went red and she laughed loudly.

It was stupid idea to even start such a topic with your friend.

"You know, just finish your work. I still have stuff to do."

Rollo stiffened, all of his muscles tensed at your words and your creed. Were you truly in love with him and Ragnar at the same time?

Not being sure what to do, Rollo decided to get back to the settlement to meet with his younger brother. It couldn't wait.

Bjorn was playing with his younger siblings as he spotted Rollo rushing through the path. "Uncle! You're running like you've got the devil on your tail."

"Have you seen your father?"

"He went back to the Great Hall, he was mentioning baths or something."

Rollo nodded his head briefly and headed to the house of Ragnar.

Meantime Raganr was relaxing while submerged in nice warm water. It was perfect. No kids, no wife, no people with stupid questions or needs. At least it was like that until Rollo walked in.

"I am busy, brother... What do you want?"

Rollo made sure to close the door right behind him before he stepped further in the chamber. "I'm coming to speak to you about our dear Y/N."

Ragnar raised his eyebrows and laughed softly, opening his eyes to look at his brother. "She liked the necklace? But taking the fact you are here it means that the trinket didn't woo her into your bed. What a shame.”

"It's not about that, brother," he scoffed Ragnar's words. "Yes, I took the necklace to gift her with it, don't forget that I was in Mercia with you and I deserved a cut. I distinctly remember you saying that every warrior will get a piece of the treasure. But it's not about that," Rollo simply grabbed the nearest chair and flopped on it. "I visited her today. At least, I tried but she wasn't alone, her healer friend visited her first. But I think I have information you might be interested in."

Ragnar rolled his eyes and moved closer to the edge of the wooden washtub he was sitting in.

"Oh really? Is the little shield maiden a spy of some kind?,”

Rollo shook his head for no.

Then he also leaned forward, resting his hands on the edge of the washtub, to get closer to his younger brother. "She claimed she loves me but you as well."

Ragnar blinked and looked at his brother with the eyebrows raised high.

"Well, that would explain her great escape with Bjørn when we were at each other’s throat because of her," He hummed, scratching his beard.

"Exactly," the older brother agreed quickly. "What are we going to do about this now, though?"

Ragnar thought for a moment then he looked at Rollo.

"Well, since she loves you and me... We could share. She can't decide, I don't think she will mind having us both at the same time,” he shrugged.

"What about Siggy and Aslaug? They'll go mad once they learn about such an idea."

"Siggy isn't my problem, she is not your wife as far as I remember. You can take care of this yourself, I always can take Y/N all for myself if Siggy stops you," Raganr teased with a shrug. "I can take care of my own wife, she will be soon relieved of the title anyway."

Rollo pretended he didn't hear Ragnar's nast comments about him and Siggy. "When then? I won't lie, I won't wait."

"You never were the patient one. Very well! Let me dress and we will go to her," Ragnar said, getting up from the washtub.

Rollo cringed a little while seeing his brother's naked form but grinned at the same time. "I'm lucky to at least be bigger in some other matters than ruling the settlement."

Rollo knocked to your door strongly.

"Y/N, it's me, open the door, I know you're there!"

"We need to talk with you. It's an important matter," Ragnar also knocked at your door.

You freeze with a dress and a needle in your hands.

WHY WERE THEY HERE?! You didn't invite them or had any important stuff to discuss with the brothers.

With your internal dilemma you didn't want them here. You are just going to pretend you aren't home, they will go away.

Rollo aimed a strong blow to his younger brother's shoulder. "Shut up," he hissed quietly. "I told you that I'll do the talking, all you had to do was to stay quiet but as we can see you can't even follow the most easy plan."

Ragnar returns the action.

"I am in charge here. I always am so better behaved, Bear," he growled.

You listened to them and facepalmed.

Letting out a deep sigh you got up from the chair to open the door.

"Because of such a behavior I was ready to pretend I am not here,"

Rollo instantly slipped his foot between door frame and door to prevent you from closing them. "Hi, Y/N, we have to talk.”

You nodded your head and opened the door fully for them, inviting them inside.

"Come in then, can I get you anything? Drink? Food?"

"I'll pass," Rollo replied and smoothly slipped into your hut, instantly taking a seat at your chair. "Mmmm, cosy," he commented casually while looking around your place

This felt strange, just seeing both of them in your stomach twist. In a pleasant way of course but still.

You looked at them and smiled.

"I'll pass as well," Ragnar said and decided to sit down on your bed. "You had to do the talking. I am listening."

Rollo gave him a dead glance, and shifted his eyes at you. "Is there anything you'd like to share with us? Feelings, concerns?"

You shrugged and played with your hands nervously.

"No, I honestly have no idea what you are talking about Rollo."

Rollo gave you the look you knew too well. He wasn't the idiot. "Y/N, just to make the situation clear, I've heard your talk with the healer today."

Your face went completely red when you realized what it means.

Rollo knew what meant that Ragnar knew now too.

"I... I am sorry if this offended you or your brother in any way. I just, I really can't pick. Both of you are just wonderful men."

Rollo exchanged glances with Ragnar and chuckled. "It’s fine, don't worry, no one here is mad at you."

Ragnar got up from his comfy seat and walked to you.

"Actually we think the complete opposite when it comes to the whole situation,' He said quietly and placed hands on your cheeks before crushing his lips against yours.

You let out a surprised squeak but kissed him back, grabbing his wrists to brace yourself as you felt your knees going weak.

Rollo stiffened seeing his brother stealing a kiss from your lips; he wanted to this as well but his blood turned cold at the sight. "I beg your pardon?"

Ragnar pulled away with a chuckle and shook his head.

"Don't be offended, brother. Please, help yourself," he gestured at you.

Biting your lips you smiled. "Come here,"

Rollo wasn't sure if the thing he was about to do was good. For the first time in his lifetime he hesitated with a woman.

You watched Rollo for a moment and then walked closer to cup his cheek. "Whatever you heard today. It was all true, I love you and your brother in the same way," you whispered and kissed him gently.

Ragnar rolled his eyes at the sudden softness of his brother and decided to pour himself a cup of whatever drink was standing on your table.

Rollo offered the kiss back, slowly slipping his tongue past your lips. It danced slightly with yours as he cupped your cheek with one hand and simply slipped the other one to give your ass a harsh squeeze.

You moaned into the kiss, letting him dominate it.

"Careful Rollo or you will eat her alive." Ragnar muttered looking inside the cup.

Rollo soon let go off you, licking his lips.

You looked at him and giggled, stroking his cheek.

"I am so happy you don't hate me for this."

Raganr chuckled and gently pulled you back on Rollo's laps so he could kiss you as well. He pulled away as soon as he needed to catch his breath.

"It's hard to hate you, Y/N."

"My brother is right," Rollo agreed easily. "You're a good warrior, a decent and beautiful woman," the man claimed while putting his palms to his thick belt.

"And we will have plenty of time to discover what else you are so good," Ragnar summed up. "I suggest we don't trouble her too much tonight, brother. At least until her wounds heal fully,"

"But once the wounds heal...," Rollo came closer and gently wrapped his hand around your neck, "Then we will have to train her a little, am I right, brother?"

"Oh yes. Our little shield maiden will have to learn a lot of new things. Not necessarily combat related but still really useful," Ragnar hummed, kissing behind your ear.

You meowed at their touch.

It all was finally happening. Gods listened to you and your dreams came true.

"For now let's hope her bed can have all three of us. I bet her tired body would appreciate some gentleness,” Earl added.

Rollo laughed. "I take place from the wall."

And after these words he simply flopped off the bed which let out a cracking sound under his weight.

You cringed at the sound but smiled softly when you realized it didn't break.

Gladly you climbed into bed and placed one more kiss on Rollo's lips while Ragnar joined the two of you, wrapping his arm around your waist carefully.

You turned and kissed him as well before getting comfortable between them.

Rollo offered you his stretched arm. "Comfy?," He asked after you placed your head on him. His second hand rested on your hip.

"Don't be too greedy, brother. I am here as well," Other man muttered and nuzzled to your back, hugging you tightly.

You only smiled.

"I couldn't be happier. Two men I love dearly are here with me," You hummed, slowly drifting away into slumber.

Rollo brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear.

As you fell asleep, he looked at Ragnar. "Do you think we can handle it? Sharing one woman?"

"Why not? We are brothers, I am used to sharing with you," Ragnar shrugged. "If we want to make her happy we need to handle it somehow."

Rollo nodded and put his head to yours. "Yeah. That's true. I hope this will easily work out as I remember us fighting dearly about women.”

Ragnar nodded.

"Just so you know. I fuck her first and away from you," he added quickly.

"In your fucking dreams, Ragnar," Rollo smirked wryly, whispering. "I'll be the first one.'

"It's settled then, Bear. We'll see who will get into her pants first," Ragnar dared with a smile.

Rollo rolled his eyes a little with a consternation in his glance. "I'm older. Older people take precedence over younger people."

"I am Earl. I take precedence over everyone," he said proudly.

"I swear to Gods will you two keep your mouth shut and try to sleep or I need to kick you out of the bed?," You muttered annoyed.

Rollo scoffed loudly and remained quiet, closing his eyes and nestling with you.

Ragnar rolled his eyes and nuzzled to your shoulder before closing them.

"Much better. You two can be quiet," you joked.

[mae-gi-writes]

Bruised but not Dead | Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

If there’s one thing that War has proven, is your unspoken feelings for a certain comrade going by the name of Bang Chan. 

Genre: sci-fi dystopian au, romance, fluff, mentions of blood and death.

a/n: Christopher Bang won’t leave me alone until I write for him so here you go :,) 

-□-

The moment she heard the siren blare through the deserted battlefield, her thoughts instantly zipped to Chan.

Y/N made a move to stand, wincing as she felt pain strike through her lower leg. The smell of fresh blood was a permanent stench that kept her nose wrinkled as she finally allowed herself to see the damage that has resulted in a string of mangled bodies. They were simply everywhere, littering the floor like dead flies and though she had years to get accustomed to the sight, it still made her stomach clench uncomfortably, bile rising at the back of her throat.

"Chan?" She bellowed into the air as around her, soldiers came into consciousness. Some cried in anguish while others struggled to their feet, dazed faces and eyes glossy as they took in the battlefield -- or what remained of it anyway.

This had been the grand finale, the one that determined whether or not humanity would persevere against the monsters roaming roaming outside the walls. Reapers, they called them, humans that had slowly fallen into the hands of a deadly virus that attacked one's cells until there was nothing left but a rotting carcass.

It was a violent battle, no doubt. Too many lives lost for the price of the ones who got to live on.

"Chan?" Y/N kept on calling out his name, stumbling forward with her eyes darting left and right every time she spotted movement. Dread coiled through her stomach and the more she thought out multiple scenarios, the more she felt like air seemed to constrict inside her lungs.

Please let him be okay, her inner voice chanted like a mantra, please.

It was chaos. There was not one inch of the ground that had been left untouched by blood and she slipped multiple times, each time forcing the bile down her throat as she stumbled forward with blind desperation.

"Chan!" Her voice was hoarse, throat dry and stuffed with dirt, "Chan!"

Nothing. Absolutely nothing but silence answered her. Soldiers were starting to rouse, some helping the injured up and others sobbing in anguish for innocent lives that were taken too early. Her leg was screaming at her to stop. It burned right through her limb and tore at her nerves every time she shifted her weight onto it. But still Y/N pressed on with determination, dragged on her leg like her life depended on it because her life did.

But there was no sign of him anywhere as she made her rounds, no sign of that wavy mop of dark hair even though she caught sight of his comrades, even helping them up and calling for first aid assistance when it was needed.

"What about Chan?" She asked with barely restrained desperation, heart dropping when they shook their heads in obvious dismay with eyes glimmering with mirroring worry etched into their faces.

The hours slipped by through her fingers as her throat turned as dry as sandpaper, a result of repeatedly crying out Chan's name though it sounded more like croaking at this point.

It was only when a hand laid itself on her forearm that she turned to face the silhouette bathed by the setting sun in the distance.

Minho gazed down at her with tired lines running across his face, "Y/N, we should go home now. We need to get the injured to a hospital as soon as possible."

"But we haven't found Chan--"

"Another team just got here. They'll look for him."

She protested feebly against his hold but gave up soon after, slowly trudging after his retreating figure towards the helicopter that had landed a few meters away, her gut somehow hollowed out and head woozy from exhaustion.

She stumbled to the side and Minho was quick to catch her shoulder, "easy there. You okay?"

She nodded and gratefully held on to his arm.

That was when she heard it.

A voice. Calling her name.

"Y/N!"

No. Not a voice. His voice.

Chan.

"Y/N!"

The said girl whipped around so fast she saw stars, quickly forgotten the second her eyes fell upon a figure shakily getting to his knees, breathless and face bloodied with remnants of battle.

Her mouth fell slack, "Chan?"

Chan. Her mind chanted. Chan. Chan. Chan.

Chan was alive. Chan was here.

Her body moved before she did. She exploded into a run, heart soaring in ecstasy as it cartwheeled through her chest and head filling with such euphoria that she didn't realize she had barrelled into him with such force it practically knocked him off his feet.

Hands grasped her shoulders the moment hers went to cup his face, not caring that they slipped on fresh blood as she did so.

"Oh god," her eyes flitted back and forth between his busted lip to the multitude of injuries coating his face, "you--you're okay? You're alive? --"

"I got separated during the raid," his words were a breathless murmur, pressing his forehead to hers like he needed to know this wasn't a dream, that she was just as alive as he was, "next thing I knew there was a bomb and I blacked out."

"But you're okay," Y/N's hands scrambled towards his shoulders, to his arms, his hands, still afraid that this might be a mistake and she'd find him bleeding to death, "you're okay, you're oka--"

"Y/N," Chan's hands cupped her cheeks and it was only then that she realized tears were dribbling down her face, "I’m okay, Y/N. I’m okay."

"I thought you--if you had died...I--" her lower lip trembled as she searched his gaze, "Chan, there's something I need to tell you--"

But her next words were muffled by Chan's lips crashing down onto hers, kissing her with an intensity that made heat curl through her stomach. Shock coursed through her body, before her hands reacted on their own to grip onto his shirt . She pulled him closer with almost desperate desire as one of his arms slipped around her waist, bodies melting into each other while his other hand trickled through her hair and he tilted his head to catch her bottom lip between his.

The action left her gasping against his mouth, which he took as green light to slip his tongue to dance along with hers as a grunt of satisfaction echoed up his throat. He kissed her like a parched man in need of water and she kissed back with just as much fervour, drugged on the sensation of his plush lips molding into her own and the way every touch of his ignited sparks that she seldom knew existed throughout her body. 

“I thought I’d lost you,” he spoke against her lips in-between the set of kisses he pressed again and again over her mouth, “I wouldn’t have--I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you, Y/N--how much you mean to me.” 

His hand was firm on her waist, gripping it like he wasn’t about to let go any time soon. And she didn’t want him to.

Her own hands cupped his jaw, traced his features with her eyes before she pressed her forehead to his. He took this moment to steal another chaste kiss as she whispered, “I love you.” 

His breath stuttered for a moment. Their eyes locked, dark maroon meeting deep pools of obsidian that shone with tears, “I love you too,” and then he was burying his face into her neck, showering the said exposed skin with rain of kisses that made her weak in the knees and turned her insides to jelly.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he kept on murmuring the words like a prayer, tilting his face up to nuzzle the underside of her jaw before pressing the softest pecks there, “I love you.” 

Y/N buried her own face into the space between his neck and collarbone, loving how her chin fitted perfectly against the curve of his shoulder. 

And she knew, in that very moment, that even if the world was in a desolate place, it didn’t matter as long as Chan was there, with her.

She’d fight for him. Every time. And Always.

[ragewerthers]

To Defeat A Dragon

Summary: With the 100 year war behind them and the battles now lying more in the council room then on the battlefield, Sokka and Zuko take a moment to reminisce over the last few years.

However, reminiscing comes with a few surprises for Zuko when he forgets something rather important about the spars he used to have with Sokka.  But no worries... Sokka is more than happy to remind him.

A/n: Hello and Merry christmas, my friend!!!  I am the secret santa for @calmturquoise​ for the Squealing Santa 2020!  Thank you for giving me the chance to write something so sweet for these two and getting to join in on the fun of ATLA again!

I also want to thank @ticklygiggles​ for hosting this event again!  You're amazing and I’m so happy I got to participate in this once more!

The prompt was for some sweet, platonic Sokka and Zuko and I was so excited to get the chance to write these two!!!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308495

Enjoy! :) 

Word Count: 2941

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“I think they’re deliberately starting to make those Council meetings longer,” Zuko grumbled, shifting uncomfortably where he now rested.  Currently, he was sat at the edge of the small turtleduck pond in the middle of the royal gardens.  Attempting to alleviate the ache in his back he went to sit up a little straighter.  The result was his back cracking in a way that was probably unhealthy for someone who was only twenty-three, but really he should’ve known this would be par for the course.  Growing up a child warrior really isn’t kind to the bones in the long run.  Wincing at the dull ache it left behind it wasn’t enough to distract him from the snort of his less than empathetic friend.

“No, buddy.  You’re just finally starting to become the cranky old man you always were inside,”  Sokka teased, practically laying beside Zuko as he reclined back on his elbows… before promptly collapsing next to the Firelord with a yelp.  A charlie ostrihorse had aggressively decided to seize the muscles in his shoulders and neck and all he could do was roll around in the grass like a crazy person.  Apparently, Zuko wasn’t the only one starting to feel the effects of those long meetings. 

Zuko instantly smirked at the reaction, happy to see Sokka getting a taste of the elderly lifestyle they now lived in apparently.  

“First of all, you deserve all of what’s happening to you right now,” Zuko said, waving his hand in the direction of Sokka’s prone form. “Second of all, what do you mean cranky?!  I’m a ray of sunshine.”

The words were spoken so deadpan that Sokka instantly snorted with a bit of pained laughter, still clutching the side of his neck as he lay on the ground.  “Don’t d-do thahat!  Can’t you s-see I’m hurting?!” he whined, though his smile still remained as he looked over at his best friend.  “But yes… how could I forget, oh great Firelord, that the sun is literally supposed to shine out of your butt?”

Zuko finally broke into a more open smile, sitting up a little straighter and nodding.  “And don’t you forget it,” he joked, getting another ridiculous giggle from Sokka.

After a few more minutes, the pain finally seemed to subside as the water tribesman was able to sit up with a wince.  Rolling his shoulder a bit to try and work out the last of the kink he couldn’t stop himself from letting out an almost wistful sigh.  “But isn’t it a bit sad?  I didn’t think it was possible to get aches and pains from just sitting!  Remember the good old days of our youth when we could spar for hours and hours and we wouldn’t even be phased?”

“What do you mean ‘the good old days of our youth’?  You’re only a year younger than me,” Zuko said with a little roll of his eyes as he began to remove his crown.  With no further meetings scheduled for the day he figured he might as well be comfortable. Setting it beside himself on the grass he settled back against the tree, ignoring the look Sokka was giving him.

“Hey!  We’re older than we were back then, right?  So… those are the days of our youth!  And you ignored the question,” he huffed.

“Oh… you were actually looking for an answer to your ramblings?” Zuko teased, a small smile fighting to quirk up the corners of his lips as he tried to ignore Sokka puffing his cheeks up like a toddler.  Oh yeah… the man obviously had matured so much since those days.  “Okay, okay.  I do remember.  I still consider myself proficient with the dual dao, but I think you’re right.  With sitting most of our days away, I’m sure it hasn’t done our skills any favors.”

Sokka’s pout instantly retreated, replaced with a light smile as Zuko agreed with him.  “Right?  Not to mention that it was always super satisfying every time I won which, I mean, was almost always after our first few spars,” he said smugly, causing the Firelord to instantly focus on him.

“I’m sorry… what?” Zuko asked, his eyes narrowed and voice almost dangerously low.

Sadly, enough time and shared moments between them meant that Sokka no longer feared the ‘fire scowl’.  Instead, his smug smile only grew.  “You heard me.  You may have handed my ass to me the first few times we spared, but after that I almost never lost another fight against you.”

“.... did that cramp do something to your memory?” Zuko wondered aloud.  “It must’ve because if memory serves, you almost never won against me.  You came close a number of times, but I was almost always the victor.”

However, regardless of how insistent his statement, that smug smile still remained on Sokka’s face as the Southern Water Tribesman sat up beside his friend.  “Nope.  I’m afraid old age has started to rust up those memories of yours, Sifu Hotman.  I won almost all of our spars and I can’t believe you’ve forgotten.”

“......... did you drink one of Uncle’s experimental teas again?  You know he almost killed himself doing that once!” Zuko warned, because that was the only way that Sokka could possibly think that he had won so many of their duels.

But something akin to worry grew in Zuko’s chest when he saw Sokka’s smile turning from smug to something a little more dangerous.

“Oh my dear Jerkbender.  I think you’ve forgotten that while you may have had the upperhand most of the time when we were dueling, I found out a secret move.  Because I remembered a universal truth about dragons.”

Oh yeah… Sokka definitely drank the experimental teas.  He’d warned uncle that cactus juice wasn’t to be messed with!

Zuko quirked an eyebrow at the comment before closing his eyes to calm his temper.  Taking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly, he turned once more to look at his friend.  “Okay, buddy.  Let’s get you to the healers,” he began gently, carefully reaching forward to rest his hand on Sokka’s shoulder.  “I think they have a remedy for thi-HIHIS?!”

Immediately his arm moved back from Sokka to cover his side as an electric feeling zipped through his veins.

Sokka was only just keeping himself from laughing beside him, his fingers still poised from where they’d managed a small nibbling pinch against the Firelord's lower ribs.  “The thing about dragons…,” Sokka continued, ignoring Zuko’s insistence on getting him medical attention.  “... is that all of them have a soft spot.  Once you find it… you can defeat it.  And I was lucky enough to find a dragon with more weak spots then most.”

Suddenly Zuko remembered almost every one of his spars with Sokka… and with it the memory of an evil, horrible truth.  Sokka had indeed won most of their spars after the first few.  Because that cheating dunderhead had accidentally found out that Zuko… was horrendously ticklish.

And judging from the look Sokka was leveling him with his friend was looking to make sure he definitely remembered this little fact.

“S-Sokka!  Sokka, listen to me… don’t you da-AH!” he shouted, rolling away just in time as Sokka attempted to tackle him into the grass.  Quickly, Zuko managed to get up onto his knees, trying to get his feet underneath him to stand, but fate decided to deal him a cruel hand once more.  His Fire nation robes for all the brilliance and regality they offered him to onlookers were far from practical.  Long and flowing silks were seen as traditional and although he’d made many reforms in his time already on the throne, fashion hadn’t quite made it to the table yet.  Thus, as he attempted to flee from his friend, his feet only managed to step on the front of his robes, stopping his movements and pausing him just long enough to land himself in Sokka’s clutches.

Before he knew it, two strong arms were already locked around his waist and Zuko attempted to use his words once more to try and plead his case for freedom.

Of course… when had that ever played out in his favor? “Sokka!  S-Sokka, I remember, okay?  You…. y-you don’t have to do this!” Zuko attempted to sound reasonable and less nervous then he felt, though he realized stuttering over his words lost a little bit of that authoritative tone he was aiming for.

“Oh, I realize I don’t have to do this,” Sokka teased, crooking the fingers of his left hand to press in just a little bit more against Zuko’s side making the young Firelord gasp and bite his lower lip to stay quiet.  “But at this point I feel it is my duty to remind Lord Jerkbender about this so he doesn’t forget who the number one spar master is.”

“Spar master isn’t even a thing!  You can’t just give yourself titles like th-ahahat!  Ah!  Nonono!” Zuko’s small diatribe instantly died on his lips as Sokka’s fingers began to wriggle against his side, a few rather unbecoming giggles already breaking free before he reined himself in again.

“What was that?  Were you backsassing Sokka the mighty dragon slayer?!” Sokka teased, though he couldn’t help smiling as he already heard the familiar rasp of Zuko’s laughter.  This was going to be far too entertaining.  How could he pass up this opportunity?

“Dragon slayer?!  You’re ridiculous!  Let me gohohoahahaha!  Stahp it!  Stahahahap!” Zuko felt the flutter of Sokka’s other hand where it rested against his lower ribs on the opposite side.  Immediately the jolt of ticklish sensations raced through him and he felt his knees already starting to turn to jelly beneath him.  Of all of the things he could be weak against, something as silly as tickling was more than enough to sap his strength. Sokka’s smirk came back as he heard that, his fingers, scribbling lightly over both the Firelord’s sides.  Working in tandem his fingers lightly brushed along the vulnerable area before massaging quickly into his lower ribs.  If memory served, this had been one of the better weak spots of this particular dragon.

“WAHAIT!” Zuko cried out, his laughter finally breaking free from those raspy giggles to something lighter and more carefree.  Honestly, it was something Sokka had been so proud to draw out all those years ago when Zuko was still that broody teenager who had joined their gaang.  He had been so awkward and to be fair, their dear jerkbender still kinda was, but after attempting through sheer bullheadedness to forge a friendship with him, Sokka honestly couldn’t have been prouder to call him his best friend.

And what kind of best friend would he be if he didn’t tease and taunt Zuko into never forgetting his super awesome new title that he just came up with?  A terrible one… and Sokka refused to be a terrible friend.

“Wait?  Wait for what?  Oh!  Were you going to finally call me by my proper title?” Sokka teased as he moved one of his hands down to squeeze along Zuko’s right hip.

Zuko instantly jumped at the sensation, feeling his legs finally starting to cave under him as he attempted to curl up in Sokka’s hold to escape the sensations.  He could feel his cheeks and ears heating up as his laugh bubbled up unbidden, the noise still slightly foreign to him even after all these years.  However, Sokka had never seemed to have a problem drawing it out of him.  He just wished he had remembered that before drawing out the ‘dragon slayer’ once more.

“Nehehehever!” Zuko growled out between his laughter, his hands weakly attempting to push away Sokka’s to no avail.  “Ihihit’s a… a stuhupid naha-EHEHEHE!  STAHAHP IT Y-YOU AHAHAHASS!”  Zuko’s strength finally gave out as his legs buckled beneath him, though with Sokka’s arms around him he was easily lowered to the ground.  Sadly this did nothing for his current situation as Sokka had seemed to remember another one of his worst spots.

His stomach.

“Doth my ears deceive me?  Did you just call my regal and totally awesome title stupid?!  How dare you, good sir!” Sokka teased, his arm braced carefully around Zuko as his other vibrated quickly right against the center of Zuko’s stomach.  He’d learned very early on that the easiest way to break Zuko’s concentration and resolve was a nice little attack on this particular area.  “You know how to get this to stop, Zuko!  Admit that I am the best dragon slayer in the world!”

Zuko snorted as Sokka’s hand began to scribble all around the hyper ticklish spot, trying to shimmy this way and that out of the man's hold to get away from the maddening touch.  However, practically sitting on the ground with a tickle monster clung to your back really didn’t leave much wiggle room and Zuko realized his chances of freedom were slim.  But his pride just wouldn’t allow for him to admit defeat just yet!

“Thahahaha’ts not e-even a thihihing!  I re-refuhuhuse to gihihive in t-to yo-AHAHA!  STAHP IT!  STAHPSTAHPSTAHAHAHAP!” Zuko instantly broke into the most wild and ridiculous laughter as Sokka snuck one of his hands under his arm, his fingers spidering quickly against Zuko’s underarm in a way that drove the firebender crazy with ticklish laughter.  Zuko instantly snapped his arms to his sides, trapping Sokka’s hand against his armpit while the man's other hand continued to scribble and send nibbling pinches all along his stomach.

“Admit it!  Admit that I’m the best!” Sokka called over Zuko’s loud laughter, the sound of it making him smile like an idiot even as a few chuckles escaped him.  Spirits, it really had been far too long since he’d seen Zuko let loose like this even just a bit.  Maybe this was something they needed  in their lives a bit more?  It definitely wouldn’t hurt after all the droll and intense meetings they were forced to go to day in and day out.

Meanwhile, Zuko was dying.  The Kiyoshi warriors were going to show up here to see that their poor Firelord had met his end at the hands of a ridiculous man who had a pension for coming up with truly terrible titles for things!  Sadly he couldn’t dwell on his dramatic end as Sokka’s fingers were still attacking two of his worst spots.  Zuko knew that there really was only one way out of this. “OKAHAHAY!  O-OKAY I AHAHADMIT IHIHIT!” Zuko cried out with unrestrained laughter, feeling the tickling slowing down just a little to keep him giggling ridiculously.

“What was that?  Are you trying to tell me something, buddy?” Sokka teased, his fingers wriggling lightly against Zuko’s armpit as the other hand focused on a particularly sensitive spot on the side of the firebenders stomach.

Zuko snorted and kicked his legs out weakly before nodding.  “Y-yes!  You… you’re the behehehest gah!  Not thehehere!  Not there plehehease!  Agnihihi why-hehehe?!” Zuko giggled hysterically as Sokka found that spot on his stomach.  Taking as deep a breath as possible he tried to once more to make his bid for freedom!  “Y-You’re the behehehest drahagon slahahahayer!  Plehehehase!”

Sokka’s fingers immediately stopped their torment, chuckling a bit to himself.  “See?  That wasn’t so hard was it?” he teased, patting Zuko’s back as he helped the man sit up, watching the firebender wiping away tears of mirth from his eyes as residual giggles still managed to escape.

“Yes.  Y-yes it was,” Zuko shot back, though as he turned to look at his friend, the smile on his face was more relaxed, even after the mini battle he’d just had to endure.  “I can’t believe I… forgot what a… giant pain in the ass you were after you figured that out.”

It was Sokka’s turn to laugh as he heard that and he felt his smile growing all the more fond.  “It was probably one of my greatest discoveries and I will cherish it forever!  Not many people can say they bested the Firelord,” Sokka teased, lightly nudging Zuko with his elbow and getting a chuckle in response.

“That’s fair.  But really?  Dragon slayer?” Zuko asked, trying to earn back a bit of dignity as he attempted to straighten out his traitorous robes.

“What?  It makes me sound so cool!” Sokka cried out dramatically, making it incredibly hard for Zuko not to roll his eyes.

“I’m still not convinced you didn’t try one of uncle’s teas,” Zuko murmured, though he smiled regardless.  “And I hope you know that this is the last time the mighty ‘dragon slayer’ is going to win.  I won’t be caught with my guard down like that again.”

“Oh?  Is that a challenge, Jerkbender?” Sokka teased, leaning closer and wiggling his fingers threateningly.

Zuko couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter as he pushed Sokka’s face away gently with his palm.  “I’m too old for your nonsense,” he joked, making Sokka laugh brightly.

“Nah.  We’re still young at heart.  That’s all that matters,” Sokka said with a fond smile.  “And if you ever forget that as well, I’m more than happy to remind you again about the days of our youth.”

Shaking his head, but with a fond smile on his lips, Zuko couldn’t help feeling that familiar warmth build in his chest.  The world may be changing.  They may still be working to right the wrongs and suffer through countless meetings and council members, but… with friends like Sokka there to remind him it was okay to let loose, laugh and remember that they really were still young at heart, he knew he could face anything.

Even dragon slayers.

[mintseesaw]

Aurora | 4

Pairing: general!jungkook x reader!princess x prince!jimin Genre: angst, fluff, historical au, forbidden love affair au Word count: 8.3k Warnings: themes of abduction and insurgence, imposing abortion as a punishment, story setting is heavily patriarchal // rating: 18+

translations of unfamiliar words will be provided below ^^

*unedited

masterlist

Previously...

“Did you miss me, Princess ________?” You heard him greet from behind. The sultry yet sweet tone of his voice, compelling you to face him as if your unwillingness to meet him so suddenly wasn’t there, anymore.

With a graceful turn, your solicitous expression caused by your unintended tryst last night gone in a flash tipping your chin forward to display a false confidence in front of the prince.

The amusement on his face widens, taking notice of the exceptional glow radiating from the princess. Have you been dolling yourself up just for him? The certain strangeness in the dark of your orbs igniting fire in him before he blinks and it vanishes, gone without a trace of acknowledgement from the weight of your stare.

He crosses the offending distance, smiling sweetly before he took hold of your hand and kisses your knuckles with an ardent gaze clashing against yours that harbor the coldness he had grown accustomed with.

“My lord,” an old man hurriedly attended to Jungkook just as he took an empty table without a word. Must be the owner of the stall. Uttering his request, the owner bobbed his head low before vanishing from his line of vision.

He was supposedly going to have breakfast with you after having tediously cooked the dishes, himself. The lack of light in your eyes and your dead enthusiasm had spoiled his appetite, and severely wounded his soul. Nothing could probably ease the ache sitting beneath his ribcage. Not when the intimacy he shared with you the night before and your cold treatment of him earlier painfully reverberated in his head like a roaring thunder in the sky.

You, giving him mixed signals, confused the hell out of his weak, young heart. 

What am I supposed to do with you, Jagiya?

Perhaps, it was the uncertainty that was instigated by your emotions. That must have been the only reason.

Shortly after, the old man came back with an empty cup, pouring it full with rice wine from the bronze pitcher he brought with him. Jungkook mumbled an audible thanks before chugging down the alcohol like an angry man on his bad day.

“This isn’t something we both have a choice of.”

Your voice echoes in his head. A sweet, delicate voice that could easily slice his heart into two with your mere heartless words. A smirk made its way on his face, despite the amusement never reaching up his eyes.

There is nothing left to decide on because you’ll be with him in the end. He wouldn’t leave you, again. He wouldn’t lose his only chance he has to claim you as rightfully his. When he almost lost you back in the days you were young, right in his arms, before his eyes— it was the day he promised to show you what his heart truly desires. Whatever the cost may be.

He had never been that frantic in his life. Not even when he saw with his own eyes the deep cut in his arm gushing too much blood when he was young. Not when two poisonous arrows almost killed him in the battlefield.

When he stripped the covering off of the suspicious cart in search of any sign of you, the last thing he was expecting to see was your unconscious body, with your restrained arms and a piece of cloth stuffed in your mouth. With your aristocratic braids gone, he couldn’t see much of your face as your hair hung loose covering half of your face as your body lied down in a foetal position, as if you tried to make up with the little space the average sized cart provided which was filled dominantly by materials of what looked like rolls of linens of various colors.

He knew it was you.

Despite the filth covering your attire down to the skin of your bare hands, and your seemingly thinner frame, the mere sight of the body screams everything about you.

At the time, his younger self was almost sure he was going to explode at any moment from the excruciating constriction in his chest.

His eyes were livid while they scanned over the blood bathed bodies scattered around the cart that were slain by the sharp edges of his sword, looking for another sign of danger. When he was certain that none of the rebels on the ground were moving, he dropped his weapon.

“Princess!” He calls out, his bloody hands leaving imprints of the dirt-covered article of your hanbok as he shook your shoulders none too gently, desperate to wake you.

To no avail, you remain unconscious. The sight of you in a devastating state dreaded him. His younger self thought his world right there and then was collapsing, his surroundings slowing down and his gaze shrinking and focusing into you alone. Not even a pittance of fear shook him despite killing a group of rebels, none of the fact that he stood there alone fighting for his life did. None. Not until he pulled the bamboo mat off of the cart.

Where the fuck is that old man?

It’s been hours since Lord Min suddenly came up to his residence, forcing him out of his slumber at dawn without telling him the purpose of his abrupt disturbance.

When the scholar said he found another lead, Jungkook only took it lightly—not knowing it would turn out to be the key to finally locate you.

Lord Min led him to a trail behind a group of merchants who were supposed to exchange goods on the capital’s port with Mongolian merchants. When the suspicious group split into two directions— it left him and the scholar no option but to part ways as well. However, Jungkook insisted on following the merchants who particularly brought their supposed cart of goods.

As soon as he took his outer layer of robe to cover it on your shivering body, the morning breeze hits him mercilessly. Discreetly, he gathers you in his arms. As he sets you on his lap on the ground, he removes the cloth in your mouth, while pressing a trembling hand on your chest to feel your heartbeat.

“Your Highness,” he tried once more when he sensed a faint beating against your chest. His hands shuffle to remove the tie around your wrists.

“Come on… open your eyes for me, Princess.” He whispered desperately, tears freely rolling down on his cheeks without him ever noticing.

He gasped when he caught the slightest bit of movement from you. He thought he might have been hallucinating out of his desperation to see you alive. But then, you proved him wrong as your heavy eyelids slowly peeled open, before they closed shut, again.

“Your Highness! Please… do you hear me? Can you open your eyes again?”

You did, and with your slightly parted mouth, you drew a breath in heavily.

“W-Who are you?” you managed to rasp, almost inaudibly. However, he was too close not to miss what you said. Too close to be deemed righteous around the lady he desires. He didn’t care, because your cold body needed as much as heat from him. Nothing else mattered more to him than to save your life.

“It’s me, Jungkook. I am Prince Taehyung’s friend—“

“I-I… must… be dreaming,” you croaked in between dry, painful coughs.

“You’re not dreaming. Please, don’t talk. It's hurting you.” He chokes back a sob.

“Is this real? You finally noticed me,” you pause, only to breathe through your mouth once more. “I’m… tired, I want to rest,” you say without opening your eyes. But the moisture pooling out of your eyes meant one thing to him. You’ve been suffering from immense pain.

“No, no, no. Please, stay with me. Lord Min is coming to get us. He’ll be here soon,” he coos, not caring how he sounded a little more desperate, taking your cold hands up in his mouth to warm them up.

Jungkook continuously rocked your shivering body back and forth on his lap, never removing his eyes on you. He wanted to embrace you tight, cover you with his body to protect you from the horrible cold of the morning weather but he was afraid he would crush you.

He waited, waited and helplessly waited. Lord Min would come find him. That was what he reminded Jungkook as before they parted ways in the woods.

It was him and Lord Min who found you, even when the King had ordered a mass search for his missing daughter.

---

Although your disappearance was largely perceived as abduction, neither evidence nor eye witness was found to support the claim, hence stirring the urge to find you, himself. Roughly 10 days after you were last seen, not even a single trace of your whereabouts had been identified. Something was definitely off with the way the case was being handled. The lack of progress on the investigation drove the King in extreme desperation as well as the court in anguish due to the King’s adverse political decisions.

In spite of the rumors of insurgence spreading like a common gossip story in the villages surrounding the capital, the rumors fall on deaf ears in the court on the possibility that your disappearance was plotted by the rebel forces. As if the missing person was not a princess whom the rebels could use as a pawn to bend the King on his knees.

Jungkook spent most of his days in the capital, inside the gambling houses, pretending to play with men of all sorts of class. On some days, he visited the courtesan’s house capital marketplace under the disguise of an interested guest due to the rumors that some gisaengs, at the time, were avid followers of the insurgence. At nights, he pieced together the collective stories he tediously gathered during the day.

One day, he decided to make progress on his investigation, spying on a group of merchants trading with Jurchen merchants who were pretending under the guise of Mongolian heritage. It was Mina, a gisaeng whom he somehow befriended when his visits at the courtesan’s house had frequented, who shared her discovery of a Mongolian merchant accidentally revealing his identity when he fluently spoke a dialect she distinguished as her mother tongue since she was a Jurchen-born immigrant.

He didn’t find any suspicious or illegal goods being traded on the port nor could he confirm the real heritage of the merchants. However, on his way back to the capital, he was cornered by a man he recognized as one of the merchants in the port.

To his surprise, the merchant was strangely skilled enough to defeat him in a fight— scoring a severe cut on Jungkook’s side. He didn’t think the merchant would be merciful enough to let him live when Jungkook fell to the ground after what seemed like several minutes of intense sword-to-sword combat. Strangely enough, the merchant was forgiving and instead of ending the life out of him, the merchant took his time to scrutinize every item inside the satchel Jungkook brought with him. By then, he had already sensed that the man was anything but a mere trader.

Breathing heavily, he pressed his hand hard to his bloody waist as he watches the merchant curiously unfold a piece of hanji. It was the trade map he had drawn a few days ago, alongside the location where the camp can be found.

Jungkook knew it was over for him as he saw a glint of recognition in the eyes of the merchant.

After what seemed to be a long moment of silence, the merchant looks at him. “What is this map for?”

Jungkook laughed dryly and as his shoulders shook a little, a surge of pain shot in his core. He winces as the sensation doubled over his effort to make fun of the act the merchant was pulling in front of him.

“Are you one of them?”

If the merchant understood what he meant, he simply chose to ignore it. “I’m asking you a question, kid.”

“You’re one of them, are you not? I’m most certain you know what that map is.” Jungkook gritted through his teeth as the pain on his side intensified, spreading like a magma on his midriff.

By now, the merchant’s focus zeroed in on him. “You know about the camp? Who do you work for, kid?” The merchant interrogates, further. Though the man remained passive, Jungkook found it odd to notice the slightest bit of awe in the eyes of the strange man. 

“You tell me, you act like you know my every activity.”

The merchant only raised an eyebrow. “Well, here’s the truth. I’m not a rebel. I’m not a merchant, either. I will help you if you tell me what you have gotten about the camp so far.”

Jungkook darted a glare at him. “As you can see, I’m heavily wounded, literally. You think I still care?”

“You’ll live,” the merchant dismisses nonchalantly, which made Jungkook scoff in disbelief.

“Look kid, I’m not going to kill you. But in exchange for your life, you’ll help me follow the movement.”

“It’s not like you gave me an option to decline.” Jungkook weakly contended.

The merchant effortlessly helped him up from the ground, “Come on, my grandfather is a physician. He’ll tend to your wound.”

Jungkook learned that the merchant who introduced himself as Lord Min turned out to be a scholar. He was writing a case relative to the alleged insurgence centering mostly in poor villages in the capital. Although he didn’t fully trust the scholar, sparing Jungkook his life was enough reason for him to disclose the true nature of his investigation to the scholar who was, at the time, penning colloquial stories about the insurgence.

Lord Min paused his scribbling, throwing a look of surprise at his new-found friend. “Did I hear you right? You believed the princess was abducted by the rebels?”

Jungkook only shrugged, already concluding what the scholar would say next. “It’s not the first time someone thought I was going crazy for telling them that.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I have been following the movement for months now,” Lord Min asserted, which prompted Jungkook to look back at him. “And since I heard about the sudden disappearance of the princess, it was the only theory I could come up with. Unless…” Lord Min trailed, taking notice of the interest glinting in Jungkook’s eyes.

“Unless?” Jungkook echoed expectantly.

Lord Min pretended to be in deep thought before adding up, “There is a lover involved.”

In disbelief, Jungkook threw a scornful look at him. “There’s no man in her life, I’m sure of that.” He remarked with conviction, folding his arms in his chest.

To his surprise, Lord Min hollered into fits of laughter, only severing the look of disdain on Jungkook’s expression. “For a young soldier like you, you seemed to be a little more concerned about the princess.” The older man remarked, meaningfully.

---

“Isn’t it too early to be drinking on your own, kid?” Taunts a voice, forcing him out of his reverie. With a lift of his head, his eyes landed on a commoner seemingly older than him adorned in a daffodil shade of a simple robe. Half of the man’s face was covered in conical shaped hat and just as the man tipped it high with his fingers, Jungkook immediately recognized the person standing across his table.

Your breath hitches on your throat as the warmth of his mouth sends tingles straight through your veins. With a subtle tug of your hand from his hold, the prince almost didn’t take your silent plea, not without his companion guard clearing their throat that snapped him out of daze.

If there’s particularly one thing that stood out to him aside from his aristocratic, --almost polished physical features, it was his forthright admission of his feelings on you. The was the he had made a move in regards to feelings. You appreciate the way he had not once tried to break into your boundaries for his satisfaction.

After what had happened, the least person you expected to see is him. The only man who had the guts to be with you despite the rumors that tainted your reputation. Guilt thrums heavily through your veins more than the throbbing of your muscles in your body.

Jimin deserves someone far better than what you can offer. Not with your heart, and most definitely not with your broken chastity.

“Your Excellency,” you greeted, tilting your head low in a subtle bow. Your eyes stayed firm on the ground, refusing to return his stare as you murmur, “I trust your journey has not been too much for you?”

You missed the way your concern roused a smile up on his flawless face or you would have flushed right away. “It was as expected. I am an impatient man, but it was worth the trouble now that my reward is standing in front of me.”

Taken aback at this teasing remark, your mouth unconsciously parted. You didn’t have the time to retract from the proximity he initiated just as he extended his arm, his palm meeting one of your cheeks as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. The pad of his thumb feather lightly caresses the softness of your skin there.

The abruptness of his move left you immobile for a moment, the heat coming from his hand involuntarily eliciting goosebumps to come out on your covered arms.

“Have you been well, little flower? I couldn’t be at peace knowing your health is not in the best condition. I was a thread of breath away from forcing my way into your quarters just to check on you myself, but you may never forgive me for if I ever disrespect your privacy.”

“There’s nothing to worry of. Mayhaps... my body has not been reacting too kindly to the cold weather. I had since taken herbal teas to help me recover.” The lie glided smoothly out of your tongue, piercing your lower lip with your teeth to prevent yourself from throwing up out of disgust.

The way his head bobs up lightly made you believe he bought your excuse. “Very well. Will you allow me to accompany you?” He whispers, as if it’s possible to turn down a powerful man like him. 

“Of course, Your Excellency.” The smile you plastered on your face was enough to conceal your fears for now.

At your answer, the court ladies immediately hurried towards the recreational area, pulling the wooden chairs for you and the prince to sit on.

You take the opportunity to pull back from his touch as an excuse to occupy one of the chairs. 

Mimicking your move, he settled on a seat, one that was the closest to yours. He then motions a dismissive wave on the watchful eyes of his guards, giving him and the rest of the court ladies a silent order to leave you two alone. With a bow, everyone retreated back down onto the ground, obediently.

As he turns his attention back at you, he asks, “Do you like to tease me, Princess?”

“W-What do you mean?” Your stutter evoked a subtle grin to reappear on the corners of his mouth. While your insides are a mess, the delight shining in his eyes lets you know he couldn’t see right through your miserable heart.

The subtle smile on the corners of his mouth stretches wider, “You know I like it when you call me by my name.”

His teasing once again scores a twin stain on your cheeks. Although you remain placid with his remark, he didn’t miss the immediate rush of blood coloring your face that, in return, earned a smirk from him.

Blinking, you straightened your back. “Why are you not appropriately dressed for the season, Your Excellency?”

Prince Jimin beamed in your attempt of changing the subject, eyes glimmering in glee. “My attire is fine. Mayhaps, if you are concerned, I can put on another layer of thick robe.”

Quickly, you shake your head. “There’s no need for such if you don’t feel like the weather is too much for you. Winter has just begun and only a few weeks more before the weather becomes unbearable, especially for envoys like yourself.”

“I can only imagine how our departure would be like.”

“You chose to come to the kingdom during the winter. Is there something that’s urgent on your purpose not to delay it until the weather has calmed down?”

”The only urgent thing I found was to see you. Have I not made it clear from the beginning?”

You purse your lips, afraid to voice out your thoughts. On the other hand, Jimin was way too deep in the subject to notice the slightest bit of trouble reflecting in your eyes.

“I didn’t think any woman would stir my interest after having my heart broken when I was young. You know, my brother—the Emperor gifted me a marriage in exchange for my service in the military. I was supposed to leave the palace for a while to visit my bride. The Emperor halted my plan only to have me represent him on his behalf during the coronation of Queen Soheon. If I didn’t come here, I would have been married by now.”

Burying your trembling hands on your lap, you distracted yourself with the beauty of the winter blooms on the pond, swallowing the gasp that threatened to spill as an involuntary reaction. His revelation left a lasting impact on you. In your head, you could hear yourself screaming the truth in front of him. He shouldn’t be this infatuated over you.

“Perhaps, you are well enough to company out of the palace? You still owe me a tour to the capital.” The prince posits all too suddenly.

Swiftly, he stood up and offered a helping hand in front of you. The sun is barely out, concealed with the thick layers of clouds to which is a great opportunity to wander around in the marketplace. Your false confidence slowly faltering as seconds turn to minutes with his gaze sweeping on your whole length. You accepted his hand, granting his wish. It was the least you could do to make up for him travelling a thousand miles to see you.

The following day, an event is set to be held in Changdeok to pay tribute for army’s victory in defeating the rebel forces in one of the borders in Joseon. Hours earlier than the customary outset in the palace, the finishing touches on the day’s festivities have already been wrapped up by the court ladies even before the sun rises on the east.

Historically, the day held no significance to the royal court nor to any prominent military figure in the nation. However, some weeks prior to the present day, the king received a letter from the young general relative to the army’s arrival to the capital, hence, the sudden establishment of a dogam to organize a jinchan for the returning heroes from the northern border.

With the anticipated attendance of the royal family in the morning banquet, you were forced to rise at dawn to prepare for your participation for the festivity.

Shortly after the attendants have finished braiding your hair, your morning tea was served just before you are set to leave your quarters.

“There will be two more banquets after the event in the morning, Your Highness.” Hyowon, one of the court ladies attending to your daily nourishment answers when you absentmindedly voiced out your thought as she pours a tea on your cup.

Fortunately, you were not foolish enough to utter the name of the man who’s been haunting your dreams since time immemorial. She may only be a distant relative of Jungkook, but the same blood runs thick in their veins and you wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of anyone, much less to anyone related to him.

You nodded, taking your cup and hold it up to your lips.

Traditionally, the nighttime festivity is said to be the most anticipated from all sorts of celebrations as the audience who are commonly from noble descent look forward on the performances of high-class entertainers. Jungkook is obligated to attend all the events for the day as one of the honorary guests of the jinchan.  

The supposed banquet is going to be your first attendance in a political gathering ever since you were given the title of a gongju on your seventh birthday. The thought was making you uneasy in some way in case something unforeseen transpires during the celebration, that it would be denunciated by the curse you were forced to live with in your lifetime. However, the thought of him present in the same room with you brings more in disarray. 

A court lady from the dogam came to escort you to the reception afterwards. And not long after the arrival of Queen, the massive doors of the dining hall flew opened, revealing the King as he enter the premises.

Perhaps, you would still have had a clear view on whole expanse of the dining hall if not for the ivory article covering the totality of the platform where you and the rest of the royal palace women.

Meals have been simultaneously served just as the King had announced the ceremonial toast indicating the beginning of the celebration. An instrumental piece played by the musicians proceeded after, keeping the atmosphere pleasantly solemn despite the audible chatters in the hall.

From your seat, you could only see the king’s back as he led the banquet—sitting at the head of the table while the rest of the state and military officials sat in two long sets of vertically-arranged sobans. Despite the barrier, it was not difficult for you to locate where the man of your thoughts was settled at just by the mere sight of his silhouette. There he was beside Prince Taehyung, seemingly fascinated with the performances on the center if not occupied with something Prince Taehyung was telling him.

You could never change the way you treated him so poorly, yesterday. Your hostility was uncalled for, but perhaps, it was enough to displease him enough to lose his interest in you.

“You are not eating your meal, Gongju. Are the dishes not to your liking?” Princess Consort Sooyoung asks. Unlike you, your sister-in-law seems to enjoy the sumptuous serving on the soban, as opposed to your lack of enthusiasm on the food.

“It’s not that. Perhaps, it was too early for me to consume anything solid after I had my morning the tea.”

You drag your hand up on the table, picking up the pair of chopsticks to nestle them in between your fingers. To ease her worry, you attempted to touch the sweet flavored delicacy among the servings.

The banquet progressed rather slowly. As hours passed by, your legs grew numb from the lack of physical movement. It didn’t help that the remnants of muscle aches from your intimacy with Jungkook still lingers. Your sister-in-law caught the discomfort in your expression.

“Gongju,” Princess Consort Sooyoung calls for your attention, once more.

Tearing your gaze away from Jungkook, you tilt your head on the side to meet her solicitous eyes.

“Is your breathing alright? I noticed your heaving has frequented.”

“Uhh...I’m alright, Bubuin.” You falter. Instinctively, your eyes flew back to where he was situated. Your sister-in-law followed the trail of your gaze, and it was only then that she had pieced together the reason.

She chuckles softly, “I thought you were having difficulty with your breathing.”

Your face incredibly flushed with her words.

She didn’t attempt to speak to you after that, seemingly distracted in one of the ceremonial performances of the banquet.

Three hours later, the first phase of the jinchan had finally come to conclude to your relief.

When it was your turn to be escorted out of the hall, you couldn’t help but skim your eyes across the expansive lot. Of course, the chances of running into him are very slim to none. Not only that he was in a rush to leave the reception, but he would also take the path on the west out of the palace while you would take the opposite direction to go back to your quarters.

You thought wrong. Because the moment you arrive at the entrance of the Gyeongbok, you catch on the back of his frame on the small stretch between the library and the tall concrete wall.

Your heart instantly jumped at the mere sight of him adorned on the same uniform he wore the day before. But something didn’t make sense. What is he doing in the main palace—hiding there right after the banquet has ended?

The court lady remained still behind you as you tried to build up the courage to approach him. Perhaps, apologize for your behavior yesterday. But then as he shifted on his feet, you caught a glimpse of a hanbok across him— appearing nothing like the clothing of any man. A lady.

“You have the freedom to choose any woman in your life.”

Your own words hurriedly came rushing back on you, nearly losing your footing when the weight on your chest grew heavier. You couldn’t breathe.

“Princess—” you jumped at the sound of a low baritone voice from behind, the same voice you’ve known by heart since you were little. 

Sheepishly, you turned to face your brother, his forehead crumpled causing his eyebrows to meet into a line.

“You looked like you’ve seen an apparition,” Prince Taehyung jests, with his face remaining passive without a trace of playfulness despite his obvious teasing.

That’s because you did! You seethed, internally. With an ugly emotion slowly seeping through your veins, you find it difficult to display indifference as if something—someone was not putting you in an emotional distress.

“Your Excellency,” you greeted half-heartedly.

“You are aware about the luncheon tomorrow, right? I am expecting you in my courtyard, little flower.”

“Of course,” You briefly answered. His face finally stretched into a grin, ruffling your neatly braided hair before bidding a farewell.

When you spun back to peer at the spot where Jungkook and his female companion were standing— nothing. No one was there anymore. Jungkook is gone, and so is the lady he was with.

The scene remained etched in your brain the rest of your day. Being unable to stay still in the confines of your quarters, you decided to do readings in in the library.

You were alone, just like what you have asked to your attendants, with the exception of a guard outside. Shortly after going through the shelves in the House of Yi section, you once again stumbled upon a book of biographical sketches after secretly reading the book several years ago. The sight of it alone refreshes your memory of the things you have discovered written in the pages of the books—specifically about Princess Moyoung, your grandfather’s eldest sister who slowly died in the hands of her husband who was born from a fourth class family.

It was said to be the matter that pressured the next royal generations to marry off any king’s daughter to a yangban which was prohibited prior to the princess’ unfortunate case to avoid any arising political conflicts.

It was the same thought that bothered you even when you had gone back in your quarters, bathed, and dressed in your night robe. If your father were still living, would he insist on keeping you in the palace? Or would he allow your supposed matrimonial union with Jimin over one with Jungkook?

However, you understand that either selection is a sacrifice. Life is about losing something to gain something else. You know what will be taken from you if you were to possibly end up with Jungkook. But what could you have possibly gained if you were to lose the man who owns your soul? An extravagant life with the prince?

The ache in your heart has sat idly in your chest since this morning. Your time in the library seemed to have worsened your distress as pain starts to sear in your head.

You stood up. Your attendant mimicking your movement to smoothen the sleeves of your silk robe. “I do not wish to be followed,” you simply say. They crouched their upper body low, conveying a silent message of obedience.

As you pass through the L-shaped corridor leading to the outdoor of your quarters, the rectangular hallway making up the main pathway of the courtyard is eerily quiet and empty. With subtle luminance provided by the light torches on each post you passed by, it was just as exactly the way you expected Gyeongbok during this time around. The reason why you chose to be alone since no one else will run into your way this time of night.

However, at your third turn, just as you enter the borderline of the queen’s courtyard, you hear a distinct sound of door opening from afar followed by the heavy, collective footsteps ringing in the air. As the footsteps grew louder, you hurriedly ran to the side of the greenhouse to hide, afraid of being seen without a companion to look after your care.

“Your Majesty!”

You bite your lip as your heartbeat picks up at the sound of a male voice—assumingly the queen’s eunuch, as if in desperation to stop Her Majesty to wherever she intends to go at this hour.

You didn’t know how long you were hiding there at the side of the greenhouse but it wasn’t long enough for you to be able to hold your breath until the traces of the footsteps were fading.

When any sign of human sound was out of earshot, you finally heave a sigh out of relief, taking a solid peek through the corner of the wooden wall to confirm your guess. Considering the pathway clear and safe from any presence, you cautiously proceed back to your footpath.

Merely focused on either side of your vision, you failed to sense that someone was making their way onto your direction. Their presence became known only when your arm was snatched from behind and a calloused palm right away covered your mouth, losing your chance to call for help. Panic immediately surges through your veins, your shock causing you to freeze momentarily.

Even without having a single look at your perpetrator, the feel of his thick arm around your waist lets you know you don’t stand a chance against their immense built and incredible strength. Just as you recovered from your shock, you frantically squirmed about against their hold but the more you struggle, the tighter their arm gets around your waist, pulling you flushed against their body.

“Why is Lady Yi- being punished?” Demanded Queen Soheon the moment she stepped foot inside the King’s quarters.

King Namjoon sprang up to his feet to meet her half-way, concern stirring immediate in him at the sight of his wife, noting the way her voice unusually croaked and holding such heavy emotion. He silently curses, taking notice how upset she had seemed to be over the scandal the concubine had caused all to herself.

“Sit down, my love. You shouldn’t allow your emotions to run high, it’s not good for your condition.”

Queen Soheon is always calm and graceful no matter how grave the situation is. He had not once witnessed her lose her innate grace ever since he married her, with the exception of the times he was intimate with her.

“Why?” She repeated, her eyes burning with fire.

“My love—”

“Jeonha, please… stop with your sweet filters and answer me why you didn’t stop them from forcing her to drink the medicine?”

He sighs just as he attempted to place her in his embrace. To his dismay, she pulled a good amount of distance between them, clearly setting the line of her anger on the matter, right straight to him.

How can he possibly be sure you would never find this matter out when only a slip of a tongue can give her the idea of what transpired some hours ago.

“You know I cannot disrespect Halma-mama’s power when it comes to the women in the inner court.”

As the Grand Royal Dowager Queen holds the highest rank in the inner court, it would only be necessary to say his grandmother ordered the punishment, when in fact it was never her idea to impose a harsh discipline on the concubine. However, the appeal of the elders in the inner court to decide on the fate of her unlawful conceiving resulted in a consensus decision to abort the unborn child. Unless the queen is proven to be sterile, the inner court strictly prohibits the harem to carry a King’s child. 

“She is carrying your child!”

He knows that, very well. But he wished his wife would refrain from carrying the weight of her emotions as it might put a toll on her health and consequently affect their unborn child. “Calm down,” King Namjoon prompted cautiously.

He could never forgive himself for failing to protect his unborn child from being stripped off the chance to live in a world where his/her father rules out a kingdom. Never in this lifetime and in the next would he ever learn to spare himself the forgiveness.

“You know, Lady Li and I are both with child. If I were not your queen, you’d simply allow them to get rid of my child, would you not?”

He reaches out, once more. “No, no. Of course, not. Not under my watch.”

But the queen was quick enough to retract from the close proximity.

Perhaps, he was right. He cannot have the power to overrule the inner court, but why does his words feel insincere? It made her suddenly fear for her own child’s life despite the position she holds. When her mother warned her about the sickening life in the palace and the doctrines in the inner court, she never thought it would come to this extent.

How can she look at his family and pretend everything is alright. One wrong move and might lose her child as well.

All too suddenly, she could feel herself slowly being overwhelmed with disgust, needing the urge to throw up.  

She couldn’t stand being here, to see anyone just yet. She fixes a glare at her attendants, warning them not to follow her. Her eyes lingered on him for a second before she took a swift turn, exiting her way out of the vicinity.

With quick strides, he followed her trail, only to spin back around, skimming through each one of servants in his quarters.

“No one must follow me or the queen,” his eyes particularly burned at his eunuch. “Do you understand?” He glowered, not waiting for them to answer as he too disappeared into the halls of his royal residence.

When you felt their grasp loosening, you began thrashing out as fear dominated your senses. Even with their hand pressed firmly on your mouth, you could hear your own sobs croaking out of your throat. And as if your pellucid fear had triggered them to stiffen, their hold around your waist loosened. But the adrenaline running in your senses all vanished the moment they finally spoke.

“Jagiya.”

Your eyes went round, recognizing the owner of the voice. He lets his hand fall from your mouth. 

”J-Jungkook?” you hesitated. While you remained flushed against his body, you couldn’t be sure of their identity.

Swiftly, he spun you around to confirm your assumption for yourself. The light torches were a little far where you two stood but there was no denying it was him, judging by the little features of his face you could make out through the help of the vibrant moon lighting up in the sky behind him.

Yet, his action had already shaken you up, feeling the loud beating of your heart. All of your emotional baggage rushing all at once, you couldn’t help but lash out to him, seeing his chest as a target to release all your frustrations.

“Why did you do that?! I thought I was being kidnapped,” you anguished, horror remained etched on your face.

He took all your hits without a fight as guilt all too sudden consumed him after realizing the effect of what he had done. “I’m sorry, Jagiya. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he murmurs, drying the moisture on the corners of your eyes with his thumbs. The moon was like a spotlight focused solely on yours, giving him the clear view of your weary face.

It wasn’t long before you calmed down. Now, all you feel is shame as your anger washes out of your system with every hit of your fist against his chest. Your head bobbed lower, “Just... don’t do that, again.”

Hearing him whisper a promise not to repeat the same mistake, you all but give him a curt nod, allowing the silence to fill in the moment.

Jungkook, once again, made you upset, the second time he had gotten himself close to you after his return to the capital. Must he keep making you in anguish just whenever he’s around you? It was wrong of him to catch your attention the way he had just done when he could’ve simply called you out to do it. But after seeing the queen and her maids passing by the same path you’re about to take, he didn’t want to make an unnecessary sound in case anyone’s lurking around without him seeing through the vicinity covered in almost pitch black.

He wondered why you seemed determined to go on your way despite going on around without a company. 

“Where are you going—”

“What are you doing here—”

You stilled just as he was surprised to hear you spoke the same time he decided to break the silence.

“I saw you going out of your quarters.” He simply answered. It was true. He left the festive banquet at the east to randomly visit your residence. He knew it would be unnecessary to invite himself into the premises so he just stood there, particularly waiting for nothing to kill time before he leaves the palace.

But then he saw the outermost doors of your residence opening, revealing none other than the subject of his thoughts. Then the rest was history.

“W-What? Are you spying on me?”

“Spying?” He chuckles at your choice of your words. He would’ve honestly accepted stalking better. “The banquet’s getting too loud to my liking. I’d rather spend my time with you. Mayhaps, luck is finally on my side when I saw you just in time— going out.”

Hearing his words earned a scoff from you. Wasn't he just with a woman this morning? Not to mention, it was one of the reasons why you randomly sought the need to breathe in some fresh air on a cold, winter night.

“I guess if you’re not distracted with your prince, you would have immediately caught the sound of my footing. Where are you going, anyway? Will you go see him?”

Your mouth parted in disbelief, “You didn’t hear anything from me when you were the one hiding with a woman just this morning.”

Hiding with a woman? For a second, his forehead crumpled in thought, recalling his activities prior to this moment. He couldn’t seem to remember when he actually hid with a woman. He didn’t even talk to any woman earlier in the morning, except for a friend—

“Ahh,” He hums in understanding, “Jagi, I’m not hiding with Mina—”

“Mina?”

He recalls speaking with Mina after the latter who belonged to the group of gisaengs during the banquet who recognized him inside the reception and was only able to catch up after him at the entrance main palace. Mina enthusiastically dragged him behind the closest infrastructure to briefly speak to him in peace without potentially attracting an audience.

“I met her a long time ago. Jagiya—“

“Forget it,” you immediately dismissed, but with him not missing the way color bloomed on your cheeks. “It’s not my business to hold it against you. You’re free to do as you wish.”

Are you being serious? How can you think he can be possibly interested to another woman? 

He tilts your chin up so he can see your pretty eyes, clearly. “What are you saying, Jagiya? I thought we’ve already established that I’m yours. Have I not?”

He heard no answer from you, but didn’t miss the subtle shake of your head.

“No?” He echoes, the frown on his face deepens. Still, you refused to speak nor return the heavy weight of his peer.

“Our lovemaking wasn’t enough, was it?” His sudden brought up to the matter which should never be spoken of made you dart your eyes back up at him. There it was again, the same emotions reflecting in your eyes the morning when you put a cold shoulder at him. He couldn’t quite decipher the signals you were giving him.

“Jungkook, we’re not together anymore.”

“Then would you rather be with the prince over me?”

You look away, even though you really wanted to give an answer. 

“I haven’t seen your beautiful smile since I came back, Jagi. But you were smiling a lot around him. Gods, was I jealous when you showed him of such privilege I was deprived of.” He groans, slowly inching his face closer, as if testing your reaction to his advance.

He took your lack of withdrawal as a sign to keep going. Silently, you gave him the freedom to intrude your personal space.

“You saw us,” you murmur, confirming it to yourself more than throwing it as a question to him.

Your jaw went slack, shamelessly anticipating for his lips to touch yours. Closer. Until your noses bumping, his mouth a breath away from touching your plump lips. It almost happened. Almost. Because just as he shifts his head a centimeter forward, finally capturing your awaiting lips with his, a cry of protest loudly resonated through the air, echoing as the sound bounces back from the empty silence.

“Stop following me!” The voice was undoubtedly owned by a woman.

If Jungkook didn’t recognize  the voice, you certainly did. Her voice was too familiar for you not to identify her as the Queen, forcing you to draw back from the proximity immediately. Once again, panic courses through you, rapidly consuming your senses as fear worsened your capability to think rationally in a situation such as this.

Your wide eyes stared back Jungkook in a silent plea.

It wasn’t clear to you how far she was from both of you, but the nearing claps of footsteps tells you the queen and whoever was following her are passing by behind the greenhouse. If they decided to take a turn right across where you two stood, they will certainly not miss the sight of you seemingly in a rendezvous with Jungkook.

“I said—Jeonha!”

You gasp, slapping a hand to your mouth, utterly stunned at what you just heard. Jeonha? Does that mean she was addressing her order to your brother?

“The K-King is here...” you stammer.

He hushed you, silently telling you to keep still as he cages you against the outer wall of the greenhouse, as if shielding you from any potential eyesight. He was too close as he let his head hang low just beside the shell of your ear. You could hear his heavy breathing, the warmth oozing naturally from his body seemed to calm your nerves in some way, nearly forgetting about the predicament both of you are in, nearly missing the silence lingering in the air.

Are they gone?

Despite your pellucid reaction, Jungkook seems not one bit shaken by the fact you two are a thread away from being seen together in the dark.

Suddenly, he shifted onto your left, breaking his manmade territory around you to move further away from where you two were supposed to be hiding.

“Jungkook!” you desperately called for his attention in a panicked whisper.

Nervously, you watch his back as he extends his neck to peep behind the greenhouse. It didn’t take him long before he whirled back around, and in a flash, grapples your wrist and dragged you into the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?”

Though Jungkook could hear the agitation in your tone, he ignored your question, averting his focus to hide you and make no sound at all. The couple turned out to be closer than he had guessed them to be.

Just as he stopped in front of the doors of the greenhouse, he heard you argue about his choice of hiding spot, but ignored you for the second time.

In a calculated shuffling on the rusted bar keeping the twin panel of doors closed, he flicked it up, allowing him to push one of the doors open. The firm grip of his fingers on your waist was all you could focus on as he urged you to enter inside the greenhouse. Carefully, he pushed the door back closed, dragging you with it as he pressed your back against the cold surface. His hands on both sides of your head as he rests his forehead against the door, just above your shoulder. You couldn’t see much of the view behind him because of the lack of light inside. But the moonlight seeping through the transparent roofing of the greenhouse was enough to give you the faintest possible light to make out the features of his frame.

“It was too quiet, isn’t it? I thought the queen and king were gone.”

“We were intruding them,” he simply replied.

“W-What?”

He shifted his head to the side and before you knew it, a pair of warm lips touched yours in fervor. Jungkook has never been this bold before to break your personal space nor touches without asking your permission.

Years without seeing him, you understand that he might have grown into a persona different from what you know of him. When you saw him that weary day after four years, you picked up a sense of strangeness in his aura. Perhaps, it is his confidence or the powerful aura he naturally emits that made you speechless.

Groaning as the feel of your mouth accelerated the temperature of his body, Jungkook deepens the kiss with his tongue pushing passed your parted lips.

The way he held you in place, with his hands on your face and his torso locking you firm against the door, you didn’t expect him to withdraw from the kiss so soon which resulted in a soft breathy whine to slip out of your throat.

“Perhaps that answered your question,” he says, picking up the teasing tone in his voice. Jungkook dipped his head lower, burying his head on the crook of your neck to press a warm, wet kiss on the same spot he bruised purple two nights ago.

grand royal dowager queen - spouse of a former king; presently the king’s grandmother Halma-mama - how the royal grandchildren address their grandmother gongju - title of a princess bubuin - title of princess consort (wife of a prince) gisaeng - female entertainer yangban - any nobleman holding a government position dogam - a committee/body authorized to organize a royal event jinchan - other term for royal banquet soban - other term for a traditional table used in joseon era hanji - other term for traditional korean paper Changdeok - East Palace Gyeongbok - Main Palace/main residence of the royal family

note: after posting 4 chapters of the series, im finally opening a tag list skskssksjsj hahaahaha if u lovelies want to be tagged in the future chapters, send me your url here.

mintseesaw © 2020

[levisnackajack]

The Wrath of War

Chapter Seventeen

“We’ll get through this,” Eren had said, pulling his friends into a tight, group hug. Eden nodded, the muffled voices around her slowly slowly becoming sharper and clearer. 

Where was she?

“You, Mikasa, Eden and I. We’ll join the Scout Regiment and fight for the sea. We’ll fight for the taste of freedom. And then when that day comes, we’ll sit together and reminisce about all the tough times we’ve gone through just to get to that moment,” Armin replied softly as they pulled away. 

Each child had a flame in their eyes. Two pairs of crystal blue eyes, a duo of onyx jewels as well as another pair of honey-colored eyes that glinted with a shade of emerald. After the horrors they had witnessed that day in Shiganshina; the deaths that had cracked through each crevice of their bones; they had vowed to fight until death grabbed their hand. 

Eden felt drowsy as the world around her slowed down and the faces of her friends grew blurry. She looked around to see the atmosphere change, those distant voices that rang at the back of her mind growing more realistic. 

“Hey, Eden, I brought you an apple. Well, honestly, Connie made me give it up. I actually really wanted to eat that apple...-” 

Slap

“Ouch, sorry. Scratch that, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just joking, hehe,” Sasha rambled on, rubbing her arm as she rolled her eyes at Connie’s irked stare. 

Velveteen lashes fluttered opened gradually; the immediate light burning her pupils. Eden hissed, shutting her eyes once more as she came to her senses at a dreadfully slow pace. She caught sight of the familiar layout vividly resembling the medical quarters situated at their base. 

Two light gasps bounced through the air. Her bed shifted under moving weight and once she took a deep breath; Eden managed to open one eye. 

Sasha and Connie stared at her through comically wide eyes. The girl blinked slowly at them, raising a weak hand to touch her pounding temple. 

“What...happened?” 

The duo exchanged glances and Sasha swallowed thickly. Connie bounced on his heels before clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck.

“You got severely injured on the battlefield. Safe to say, you were this close to being squeezed to death,” Connie pinched his fingers together, indicating the lack of space between his index and his thumb finger. “You’ve been out cold for the past couple of days, on IV’s and stuff, I don’t know.” 

Eden tried sitting up, but the weight of her tattered body pleaded her to remain still. “What do you mean I’ve been ‘out cold for the past couple of days’? What about Armin? He was with me, is he okay? And the rest, where are they?” The words trickled out through her lips like a mellow waterfall. 

Sasha sent her a wary smile, placing her hand over hers against the warm blanket. “Everyone from our team is healthy and safe. Unfortunately, we can’t say the same about Hange’s squad. She lost a couple of her comrades during the battle.” She lowered her eyes as she spoke, bottom lip quivering. 

Eden let go of a slow sigh, the movement causing her lungs to burn up and swell against her heart. She palmed the fabric of her blanket in between her fingers. “Shit. Was the mission a failure then? Did we manage to secure the sighting hotspot?” 

Both of her comrade-friends shook their heads glumly. Connie spoke up.

“We came back to help Hange’s team after seeing that separation would only make things worse. Captain Levi shot the final flare at the sight of literally a dozen titans heading our way. We just didn’t have enough manpower to push through all of them; especially since your team was already completely ambushed. No one expected it to be that bad...” 

Eden stayed silent as she tried to process his words. Her brain racked against her skull as she thought about all the pain and suffering her fallen comrades had experienced right before their lives were ripped out of their bodies by the vile, humanoid creatures. It made her blood boil and her lip quiver. 

“How did you manage to pull me out of the titan’s grasp? I can’t remember much except how peaceful I began feeling when I finally closed my eyes...I thought I was dead...”

“We’re so happy you’re not, Eden. What happened was...-”

“Excuse me, leave the poor girl to rest,” the familiar voice of the assigned nurse made her two friends jump out of their skin. She ushered them both out in an irritated voice before walking back to Eden. 

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong with me? When can I join my team back on the field...-”

“Not anytime soon, dear. You should be grateful you’re not currently six-feet under. Your lungs collapsed due to the pressure, so you’ll be sticking to bedrest for the time being until it gets better. Don’t look at me like that, I told you, it could’ve been worse. There was some internal bleeding that we stopped once you arrived, what else...ah yes, you’re lucky...this time, you managed to fracture just two ribs!” The nurse told her, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she spoke. 

Eden refrained from the need to roll her eyes at her and involuntarily winced instead at the sudden pains in her chest. The medic assured her that this would happen often until her internal organs heal with the help of medication, rest and the will to live. 

 Deep down, through all the trauma her body underwent that day; Eden’s mind was fixed on one tiny thought that seemed to devour her entire soul; would Captain Levi come and visit her? 

The day’s hours quickly trickled by as Eden spent it dealing with constant visits, naps and by sulking and glaring at the ceiling. She begged the nurse to give her something to numb the pain; but the older woman had assured her that she will do so after dinner.

Eden didn’t even have enough energy to snap back at her. 

The sun began settling, bringing in a warm, orange shade into the infirmary. The rays grazed against Eden’s blanket, caressing her skin softly as her body began to ache. Mikasa had just left, bidding her a good night after helping Eden bathe.

The injured girl felt like such a nuisance and begged her friend multiple times to leave, stating she could manage on her own. But Mikasa being Mikasa; never left her side. Her nurse finally injected her with a large dose of painkillers, assuring her that they would stop the pain for at least a couple of long hours. She had also told her that they would make her feel sleepy and droopy. Eden merely nodded and thanked her for the medication.

Now, tightly wrapped up in her warm duvet, the charcoal-haired girl counted the each clock tick; completely bored out of her mind. She didn’t feel like the medicine had kicked in yet; but the nurse had reassured her that it could take some time for them to kick in and knock her out. Her eye twitched at the sound of the door gently opening. 

A tender smile crept up on her face as he made his way towards her bed. 

“Hi, Jeanie-boy,” she greeted him softly, tilting her head towards him against the pillow. 

His expression was strained and that remained intact when he sent her a smile, pulling her hand into his. “Hi, darling. How are you feeling?” 

“I’ve been better, but I’ll manage. Can’t get rid of me that quickly now, can you?” 

He let go of a gentle huff, his thumb rubbing circles against her soft skin. Eden bit her lip, brows lacing together slightly. He remained silent, staring down at their interlinked fingers.

“Something is wrong. Talk to me,” she urged him gently, squeezing his hand with her palm. 

Jean pursed his lips tightly; clenching his jaw tightly as contemplation painted against his tense face. “Do you remember what happened...that day?” 

Eden’s own expression grew more rigid as she tried her best to call back any memories she had. She released an exasperated sigh, sinking deeper into the pillow. 

“I’m sorry Jean. I really can’t remember much. My horse threw me off the saddle; Armin came back for me...we ran towards the horses and then a titan just grabbed me. That’s all I recall.”

Jean bit his lip before running a hand across his face; shifting against her mattress. She watched him silently, afraid that if she pushed him; he’d snap at her. And she wanted Jean to open up on his own terms. 

“I feel like I can’t really do this anymore, Eden.” 

Her almond eyes grew larger, lips parting in wonder. “Can’t do what, Jean? What’s going on?” 

The boy only shook his head in response, eyes betraying how deep in thought he was. Eden’s heart clenched uneasily. 

“I can’t just share you. It’s not right and I don’t feel good knowing I can’t have you all to myself.” 

His confession hung in the air heavily. Jean watched her carefully as she tried understanding his words. But, to no avail. 

“I-I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” 

Jean pinched the bridge of his nose before saying, “You’ll understand what I’m telling you on your own terms. I’m sorry it has to go down this way. You mean so much to me, Chiasa. And I can fully understand the situation you’re in right now. The confusion and all. I’ve been in that position. Which is why I’m trying to help you make things easier- even if nothing makes sense to you right now.”

Eden placed her other hand over his, grazing the skin on the back of his palm reassuringly. She listened intently to each word; feeling her heart crack just a little bit.

“I don’t want to lose you, Jean.”

The boy made a face, leaning in closer towards the resting girl. “Psh, who said anything about losing anyone? There’s no way in hell you’ll lose me, Eden; you can trust me on that. Otherwise, you can write a letter to my mother and tell her how embarrassed I was when she sent me that stuffed plush bear and you were the one who caught me with it.” 

The memory made Eden laugh, her eyes crinkling at the edges as Jean’s own brown eyes twinkled down at her. 

“That’s a deal.” 

Jean leaned in closer, pressing his warm, plush lips against Eden’s forehead. She closed her eyes, taking in his scent that seemingly overwhelmed her entirely. Everything with him was so cozy, definite and practically perfect. It was such a stark juxtaposition to the feelings the man with steely, blank eyes sparked within her. 

“But, just because I’ve decided to let you go now, does not mean I will not keep trying,” he muttered when pulling away. Eden sent him a toothy grin that was masked with a layer of grimness once her question slammed against her brain.

“Can you tell me what happened after I blacked out?” 

Jean’s eyes darkened as he looked down at their hands. He gritted his teeth, craning his neck to the side before meeting her curious gaze. 

“I...I was the one who saved you.” He hesitated for a moment, but continued nevertheless. “When all went to shit and the Captain shot the terminated mission flare; I made my way back to you. I don’t know what it was, but I just knew that something was wrong. I found Armin charging at the bastard that had grabbed you, aiming for its wrist tendon but...I managed to slice its nape seconds before you were going to land in its mouth. It was a miracle, really. If I was even a millisecond late; you would have...died.” 

Eden felt like the air was knocked out of her bruised lungs. She looked away, realization creeping down her spine as she thought back to how close she was to death. Only to be saved and gifted with another chance at life. She suppressed a yawn, her lids growing heavier.

Jean released an empty, humorless laugh; shaking his head at the memories that flashed before his eyes. “And then, when I got to you...you said his name.” He stood abruptly, gently laying Eden’s hand back against the softness of the duvet as she watched him sleepily; her mind overpowered by the drug previously injected into her bloodstream to tend to the pains. 

She was drowning in so many questions, but felt like she didn’t have enough time to answer them for herself. She called for Jean gently; earning a sweet, supple smile from the boy as he gazed down at her. His head snapped towards the entrance and immediately, his expression contorted into one filled with deep-rooted vexation. 

“Out of everyone within the walls; why him?” Jean muttered under his breath- a question devoted more to himself rather than the dazed girl on the brink of slumber. He bid her a good night and went his separate way.

Eden groaned in response, her lids completely slipping shut by the time the sound of approaching boots had reached her ears. 

Tags: @idiot-juice-enthusiast   @hadassackerman

Thank you for all the support!! xx

Link to the story in AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919136/chapters/70952145

[bronte-deserves-better]

Hi fuckers welcome to a really sad fic. I take no responsibility for what happens if you decide to read this, that's on you.

Title: and we fade in the dark

Wordcount: 2597

Summary: Bronte dies and everything is awful

Warnings: death, injury, graphic violence, blood, implied past suicidal thoughts.

Other Notes: Credit for the headcanons about how Oralie senses emotions goes to TheDarkChocolateLord on AO3. 

Also, some important and necessary context for this fic: Fintan and Bronte are siblings, they were adopted by two elves called Serenel and Ramil. 

A Keepsafe is a Councillor designated to protect their own safety no matter the cost so that there will always be at least one Councillor left alive to take charge in event of an emergency.

Also feat. nonbinary!Bronte

Actual fic under the cut

This was it, Oralie realized. This was the end. Whoever won the battle today would win the war- and it had to be them.

Grateful for her decision to wear more practical clothing today, she rushed through the flurry, hitting any black-cloaked figure that got in her way with her heels. Why oh why had she not taken Bronte up on their offer of proper weapons? Speaking of Bronte, where were they? Where were the rest of the Council? Over a few people’s heads, Oralie watched Clarette summon a few of her favored animal companions, reckoning the polygot would be fine on her own. Emery seemed to be doing okay as well, mostly because he and Darek had teamed up and were using telekinesis to their advantage, and Ramira was nowhere to be seen, as usual, so Oralie presumed she had fled. Ramira was by far more faithful to her job as a Keepsafe than the Darek.

Too occupied in thoughts of the others’ safety, Oralie barely noticed the blond elf in front of her until she had almost run into him.

“Why hello there, Oralie.”

That voice would haunt her dreams. “Fintan.”

“I see you and your lot aren’t doing so well.” He wore his trademark smirk, scanning the battlefield with that sharp gaze.

“I think we’re doing quite fine,” Oralie countered, knowing that to show weakness to Fintan meant death.

Fintan laughed, a snake of flame curling around his shoulders as he did so. “They all won’t be once you die.”

She stared at the fire, trying to keep her breathing level. “I’m by no means the most valuable member of the Council.”

“True, true, but you are the most loved.”

“I doubt that.”

Fintan took a step forward.

Oralie took a step backward.

And before either of them could make another move than that, Bronte was standing between them with a dagger leveled towards Fintan. “Get away from Oralie. Now.”

“What a way to talk to your brother.”

“Get. Away. From. Her.”

“Fine, fine.” Fintan rolled his eyes as he took a step back. “You’re such a protective asshole, you know.”

Bronte visibly flinched, but the dagger they had pointed at Fintan’s heart didn’t waver. “I protect the people I care about.”

It was Fintan’s turn to flinch. “Now that was just harsh.”

“Stop trying to kill my best friend and I won’t have to fight you.”

“No can do, I’m afraid. Leader of a rebel organization and all.”

“Then it comes down to us.”

Oralie could only watch helplessly as Bronte lunged forward, striking like a snake, only to be countered by a dagger of Fintan’s own. The fight ranged across the field, going right and left, back and forth, Bronte and Fintan trading blows as Oralie stood helplessly with high heels in hand, not daring to interfere in case she hit Bronte. Both of them hadn’t fought like this in years, she could tell, and they were as even a match as anything. What Bronte lacked by being slightly smaller, they made up for with precision, and what Fintan lacked in precision he made up for with strength. Watching them duel, Oralie realized that the fight should have been over a while ago. If either of the siblings dared use their ability, it would be easy enough to catch the other by surprise and incapacitate them. But both of them were holding back, only striking at each other with weapons. Determined to win- but unable to bring themselves to truly harm the other.

Thump, thump.

Oralie snapped out of her thoughts in time to see Gethen heading towards her, sword in hand, and thought quickly enough to dodge, leaping out of the way of his blow. He didn’t get her last time, he wasn’t going to get her this time either.

This time, Bronte was there, turning from their fight with Fintan to block another blow from Gethen. Their small dagger wasn’t a proper match for Gethen’s lumenite sword, but it was a blade and it did its job of blocking Gethen’s attack.

Oralie could feel determination radiating off Bronte, rough and strong like wood that hadn’t been sanded, watched Gethen’s smirk grow as Fintan’s eyes widened and his dagger, which would have been blocked by Bronte’s had they not turned, slashed across Bronte’s torso.

Oralie might have screamed. She couldn’t tell who was screaming, and for all she knew it could have been Fintan. His horror was strong enough to reach her, guilt prickling across her skin as Bronte collapsed.

“Bronte!” That was her voice this time, Oralie thought distantly, her scream ringing across the battlefield as she reached desperately for her best friend.

“Ora- Oralie.” They reached back, weakly, painfully.

Their dagger was laying on the ground next to her. Their blood was already coating her hands.

“Why?” Oralie pleaded. “Why would you di- get hurt for me?”

“Because I love you. Idiot.”

Oralie could feel Bronte’s pain surge through her, a phantom slash all the way down her chest as sticky sorrow poured across her hands, but their sentiment was genuine, the warmth of friendship radiating through. “I think- I think you’re the idiot.” She might have been crying, the sticky warmth of tears indistinguishable from the sticky warmth of love mingled with sadness. “You saved me, you saved the one who’s always been so weak.”

“Fucking nonsense. You’re- ah!” They gasped, and Oralie flinched as the pain doubled in intensity. “You’re stronger than anyone I know,” Bronte finished weakly. Their bangs fell across their face, strands of brown tinted red with blood as the rest fanned around their head like a halo but plainer.

“Bronte,” Fintan whispered from somewhere nearby.

Oralie would have killed him, if she could, but Bronte just stretched out a trembling hand. “Brother.”

“Bronte,” he repeated. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to!”

Bronte’s emotions shifted, damp regret scratching against Oralie’s heart like wet wool. “I was the one who failed you from the start. I’m sorry.”

“Big brother,” Fintan whispered, and Oralie’s hands were sticky with his sorrow and Bronte’s blood.

“I forgive you. I forgive you.”

And Fintan was sobbing now, that she could be sure of, the enormity of his guilt crushing her and making it hard to breathe. Was she breathing? She couldn’t be sure.

“Oralie.” Buried under waves of pain, soft prickles of concern reached Oralie, and she drew a shuddering breath as Bronte tapped her hand lightly. “Oralie.”

“Y- yes?” Her voice failed her, wobbling under the weight of Fintan’s guilt that might have been her guilt that might have been Bronte’s worry.

“Don’t let go, okay? Don’t give up, just because- just. Just don’t give up. Please. You deserve to be happy and you will be.”

“It gets better someday,” Oralie whispered, remembering what she had told them so many times.

“It gets better. Someday. Promise?”

“Promise what?”

“Promise you won’t give up.”

Oralie took a shaky breath. “I promise.”

In some corner of her mind, she was vaguely aware of the fact that one of Clarette’s creatures had thrown Gethen away from the three of them, that a familiar grief- Emery’s- was prickling the back of her neck, but all she could see was Bronte’s chest rising and falling too quickly as their breathing grow shallower.

“Good. Tell Sophie I’m proud of her. Tell the rest of the Council that I cared about them- except. Except tell Alina to get fucked.” They pressed a leaping crystal into her hand weakly. “Tell. Serenel. Ramil. My parents. I loved them. And never- never forget that I love you. So much.”

“This isn’t goodbye. This isn’t!”

“It has to be.” Bronte smiled painfully. “I’m sorry.”

And suddenly Oralie was drowning in the absence of their emotions, all the sticky sorrow vanishing from her hands and leaving only blood. “Bronte. Bronte! Please, don’t go!” She knew it was futile already, knew there was only one thing the lack of emotions could mean, but she begged anyways, holding them close like she hadn’t been able to do for Kenric. Kenric. Words and oaths and memories spiraled through her mind, leaving one final grief, which she screamed to the world. “You promised me, Bronte! You promised! You said you’d never leave, not like- not like Kenric!”

I’m sorry. The memory of those words echoed through her mind, the pain behind them tearing through any remaining numbness. I’m sorry.

It took her a moment to realize that someone was saying them out loud too, a different voice and a different sorrow clinging to her heart. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Oralie.” Emery’s golden voice was rough, the sentiment in it more real than anything he had said as Spokesperson.

His sorrow drowned her as he pulled her into a gentle embrace, and Oralie let it. It was easy to let the pain of others wrap her up tightly just like their arms, far, far easier than facing the rage and grief and guilt pooling in her chest. For once, Oralie embraced the numbness.

--

There was blood on Emery’s shoulder.

That was the first thing she noticed when she could notice anything but grief. The bloody spot was small, but seeping outward slowly, and just as sticky as his pain. Focusing in on his emotions, Oralie narrowed down a phantom ache in her shoulder, right over where the blood on his was.

“Emery’s hurt.” Her voice didn’t sound like hers, rough and distant. “Left shoulder.”

“Shit, nice catch, Oralie!” That was Livvy’s voice, her usual cheer strained and cracking. “Handy uh, having an empath around, I guess.”

Oralie stared at golden embroidery of Emery’s tunic, watching it slowly become stained with blood. “Yeah.” She didn’t know when Livvy had gotten here, didn’t bother to wonder.

Livvy’s worry was prickly. “I’ll fix that up, if you don’t mind moving back, Councillor Oralie?”

“Okay.” Oralie stepped back and wondered how her voice could sound so dead while her chest was rising and falling still. She was vaguely aware that Livvy was fussing, vaguely aware that Emery was sighing, but it all seemed very far away even though they were right next to her.

The next thing she was aware of was someone putting their hand in hers softly, a pearl ring shimmering on the middle finger.

“I heard what happened,” Liora said quietly.

Oralie said nothing.

“I don’t know you well, and I didn’t know Bronte well. But I hope you know we’ll all stand by you.” Liora’s concern was less prickly than Bronte’s had been, more like flannel than felt, but just as real.

Oralie didn’t know what to do with the knowledge that Liora cared enough to worry about her, had no way of discerning even what she felt about it. “Thank you. They- Bronte- told me to tell you- you and the others, that is- that they cared. Even though it didn’t seem like it.”

“Even though it didn’t seem like it,” the other Councillor repeated softly. “Sounds like Bronte.”

“It does.” Oralie’s words felt fragile in her mouth.

Liora squeezed her hand. “Don’t hesitate to knock on my door if you need. I don’t talk to people much, but I do care.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

--

Oralie let the other Councillors shunt her around for the remainder of the day, let Emery take charge as always. Liora stuck by her most of the time, a quiet, stable presence that Oralie was grateful for, or would have been if she could feel anything but numb. Livvy tried futilely to cheer her up once or twice once the doctors had finished fixing everyone up, but it did no good. Oralie could barely process the jokes, let alone find them funny.

Finally, they were leaping home, but it seemed that Oralie’s trials weren’t over for the day. Waiting for them were the members of Team Valiant, worry apparent in their stances.

Sophie scanned the line of Councillors, not meeting Oralie’s eyes as usual. “Where’s Bronte?”

No one answered her.

Sophie’s gaze was as prickly as her fear when it landed on Oralie. “Where’s Bronte?”

Oralie couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t say it.

“Did they get held up? Did something happen? Are they hurt? Please, what happened?”

The anguish in Sophie’s voice broke Oralie’s heart, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

Emery did so instead, steady voice tinged with sorrow. “Bronte was killed in the fight against the Neverseen.”

“They were defending me,” Oralie whispered. “It was my fault.”

“No!” Sophie’s emotions were too many textures at once, all tempered with sharp disbelief. “Bronte can’t just be dead! They were like, a million years old! That’s not fair!”

“Our world very rarely is,” Emery murmured.

“Well fuck that all!” Sophie burned with anger, voice sticky with sadness as she turned to Oralie. “And you just- and they were saving you?”

“There was nothing Oralie or anyone else could have done,” Emery put in quickly. “I don’t know the full details, but it was a dreadful fight.”

“I want to hear it from her.”

Oralie didn’t meet Sophie’s gaze.

“Councillor.”

The world was too bright, the green of the grass too vivid for such a sad day, Oralie noted distantly.

“Oralie,” Sophie snapped, and the genuine hatred behind it was almost enough to make Oralie crumble on its own. “What the fuck happened?”

“Don’t talk to your elders like that,” Emery scolded.

“I don’t care! Bronte is dead and Oralie won’t talk and- and maybe it should have been her!”

Oralie could feel the horror and regret the second Sophie’s words left her mouth, the uncomfortable dampness of those emotions brushing her skin in the silence those words left, but regret didn’t change what had been said. Or the fact that it should have been Oralie. “She’s right.”

“No!” That was Terik, from the other end of the line of Councillors. “No, Oralie, no. It shouldn’t have been any of us. Let alone you.”

“If it came down to Bronte or me, it always should have been me who died,” Oralie whispered. “They deserved better. They always did.”

“No,” Sophie said quietly. “No. I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry! I didn’t think- it wasn’t right! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Oralie.”

Her name sounded safe in her daughter’s mouth for the first time since Sophie had learned the truth.

Oralie drew a shuddering breath. “Bronte told me to tell you they were proud of you. Before they died. They wanted me to pass on the message.”

“They- they were?”

“They were. They were so proud.”

And Oralie was crying, and Sophie was crying, and even unflappable, unshakable Emery was crying a little bit because it didn’t matter who ‘should’ have died, Bronte was dead and it was left to the rest of them to pick up all the broken pieces and try to make them beautiful again.

“I’m sorry,” Sophie whispered into Oralie’s shoulder, sadness more sticky than her tears on the already-ruined gown. “I’m sorry.”

Emery offering “I’m sorry” as a condolence.

Bronte’s last words of “I’m sorry”.

Fintan desperately apologizing for hurting them, a pained “I’m sorry”.

“I’m sorry,” Oralie whispered back, feeling the weight of the others’ words behind her own. “For everything.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry- I’m sorry for what I said.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

And they held each other and knelt on the too-green grass of Eternalia and cried until even Oralie had no more tears left. Only then did they get up, wipe their faces, and decide to go on, one way or another.

[slutforalistairtheirin]

I’m Glad You’re Here

A/n: You all are going to hate me after this, but this takes place when Thorin dies. 

Warning/s: Character Death

Word Count: 1642

Third person P.O.V:

As Thorin and Azog fight, the ice cracks beneath them.  After a brief pause, Azog swings his mace at Thorin again.  This time, the ice actually begins to break apart beneath them.  As Thorin stumbles over the edge of the ice, Azog manages to knock his legs out from under him with the chain.  When Azog swings at him again, Thorin manages to roll away.  He leaps behind Azog , who is off balances, and slashes him again.  Azog angrily swings the mace and narrowly missing Thorin, it becomes stuck in the ice, and Azog is forced to slash at Thorin with his bladed arm.  

Suddenly, Azog looks into the sky behind Thorin in shock; he sees the eagles, and Radagast riding their leader.  While Azog is distracted, Thorin throws Orcrist to the ground and reaching forward, he lifts the rock at the end of the chain and throws it at Azog.  The orc instinctively catches it.  Azog looks at him in shock.  Thorin jumps backward, off the ice chunk that they were both standing on; without his weight to balance it, and with Azog at the other end holding the rock, the ice tips over and plunges Azog into the icy water below.  He scrabbles at the edge but the chain pulls him down.  Thorin pants in exhaustion.  

As Thorin bends down to pick up Orcrist, he sees Azog through the ice, being pulled slowly by the current toward the frozen waterfall.  Thorin slowly walks above him and they stare at each other through the ice.  Azog closes his eyes.  Suddenly, he opens them and he manages to stab Thorin through the foot and through the ice with his blade arm.  He leaps through the ice and pins Thorin down.  

He stabs the blade arm at Thorin, Thorin manages to stop it from peircing his chest by sliding Orcrist in between the forked blades.  

Y/n's P.O.V:

You frantically search for Thorin.  You had lost track of him after Fili was killed.   You hear a commotion coming from the frozen waterfall and scramble your way over to it.  When you get there, you see Azog pinning Thorin to the ice.  The orc is pushing down, trying to stab Thorin with his bladed arm, but Thorin holds him back, pushing up with his own sword.  

"THORIN!!" You shout, unable to stop yourself.  

He turns his head to you with shock visible in his eyes.  He gives you a sad smile before turning his gaze back to Azog.  

Azog, using his superior weight and position, slowly pushes his blade further and further.  As they stare at each other, Thorin suddenly slides his sword out of the fork, allowing Azog's blade to plunge into his chest.  Azog smiles victoriously, and Thorin raises Orcrist and thrusts the blade through Azog's heart.  From their close quarters, Azog cannot avoid it.  Thorin flips Azog over onto his back on the ice and forces Orcrist all the way through Azog and through the ice below.  

Azog dies, with Thorin kneeling on top of him.  Thorin, mortally wounded, struggles to get up.  

Thorin stumbles toward the edge of the frozen waterfall, looking out over the battlefield below, where the remaining orcs are being routed.  Weak from his wound, he collapses onto his back.  

You scramble down to get to him as quickly as you can, without falling or slipping on the ice. "Thorin!" You exclaim as you fall to your knees beside him.  

Thorin looks to you and smiles.   "I'm glad you're here."  After he says this Bilbo scrambles over to the two of you in a panic.  

"Hush, don't talk.  You're going to be okay," You pause, and go to unbutton his shirt to see the full extent of the wound, but he doesn't allow you to.  "Please?"

He takes a deep breath.  "I'm afraid it's too late for me, dear Y/n.  I apologize for everything I said when I was overcome by greed.  You did not deserve the way I treated you." He turns to Bilbo, who is on the other side of him.   "I wish to part from you in friendship."  

Biblo's eyes widen.  "No.  You're not going anywhere, Thorin.  You're going to live." Bilbo says, also trying to reassure himself.  

"I would take back my words and my deeds at the gate.  You did what only a true friend would do.  Forgive me... I was too blind to see.  I'm so sorry that I have led you into such peril." Thorin beings choking up blood.  

"No no no.. don't say that... please! You can't talk like that!"  You say, and reach down to grasp his calloused hand with your smaller one.  

"No, no, I'm glad to have shared in all your perils, Thorin.  Each and every one of them.  And it's far more than any Baggins deserves. " Bilbo says, holding back the tears he knows are coming.  

Thorin smiles at both of you.  

"Farewell, Master Burglar.  Farewell my dear Y/n.  Go back to your books and your armchairs.  Plant your trees- watch them grow."  Thorin struggles to choke out the words.  

"I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you," You pause, choking back tears.  "P-please... you have to be okay..." You murmur, nearly impossible to hear.  

"If more people valued home above gold this world would be a merrier place."  Thorin gasps deeply and his breath becomes shallower with each inhale.  

"No! No! No! No! No! NO! Thorin! Oh don't you dare!" Bilbo exclaims.  You're unable to say anything, but you squeeze his hand without realizing it.  He breifly squeezes it back, then his grip fails.  His breathing comes to a stop, and his eyes unblinking.  

"Thorin, Thorin, wake up.  The eagles... the eagles... the eagles are here.  Thorin... the eag-" Bilbo is cut off by a sob.  He turns and leans on a rock, tears streaming down his face, making tracks in the dirt and blood that covered his skin.  

"No! Please... no.... I need you... please come back, please!" You choke on a sob, and bury your face in your hands.  You mumble more, but it is unheard and inaudible.  

You and Bilbo sit there beside Thorin.  Eventually Bilbo stands up and offers you a hand.  At first, you don't even acknowledge his presence, but he continues to hold his hand out to you.  

You glance up at him, tears still streaming down your cheeks, and finally take his hand.  With one last wistful look at Thorin you allow him to pull you to your feet.  

The two of you walk to a broken down staircase and sit by yourselves and Bilbo stares off into the distance, while you hope this was just a terrible nightmare and you would wake up any second.  

Gandalf sits down beside Bilbo.  He takes his pipe out and begins cleaning it quite noisily, and Bilbo looks like he's about to object.  After a moment's pause, the two nod at each other.  You don't pay attention to either of them.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Bilbo walk out the front gates with Balin, Bilbo and Balin talk about something.   You aren't really aware of what's going on around you, you just follow Bilbo.  

"There is to be a great feast tonight.  Songs will be sung, tales will be told, and Thorin Oakensheild will pass into legend."  Balin says, trying to convince Bilbo and you to stay at least one more night.  You tune into the conversation upon hearing Thorin's name.  

"I know that's how you must honor him, but to me he was never that- he was... to me... he was-" Bilbo struggles to find the words he's looking for.  

Balin smiles patiently.

"Well, I think I'll slip quietly away.  Will you tell the others we said goodbye?" Bilbo asks and Balin smiles wider.  

"You can tell'em yourself." He turns around and gestures to the company of dwarves standing behind them.  You and Bilbo turn around to face them.  

"If any of you are ever passing Bag End, tea is at four- there's plenty of it.  You are welcome anytime." Bilbo says.

You speak up for the first time since Thorin's death.  "I'm going to miss you all..." This is all you manage to say without bursting into tears.  

Balin turns and gives you a hug.  As you and Bilbo begin walking away, he turns around one last time.  "Eh, don't bother knocking."  

Some dwarves chuckle, and some wipe away tears.  After waving goodbye to the company for the last time, the two of you make your way to Gandalf, who has already prepared your ponies.  

A/n: So I wrote this all within an hour, and I shit you not, The Last Goodbye came on when I was around the middle of the story.  I hope you all enjoyed and I hope I made you cry.  

[iusuallydontwritebutido]

Here and Alive

Imagine comforting Kíli by placing his head on your chest so he can hear your heartbeat and petting his head softly (Imagine)

Where were you, you weren’t by his side. He had to find you, now.

A scream rung through the battlefield, high above the heads of the thousands of orcs that sought to slay all of them. He recognized that voice. He knew that voice and he ran as it echoed through his ears. That scream would haunt his dreams.

Then he saw you, held by your neck over a cliff, your feet dangling in the air as you gasped for breath. Kíli’s brown eyes watched your silhouette closely as he rushed forward, hoping to be able to save you from the grasp of that horrid creature. He was almost there, you were almost within reach and then you stilled, you stopped moving completely. There was a blade sticking out from your back. He could hear you trying to force air into your lungs that no longer accepted it as the foul being pulled you back over the edge and threw you to the ground. You didn’t rise again.

He had reached you now. You were lying on your side and the orc had his blade to your throat this time. You met his eyes, your own were almost shut. He shouted your name as he hurried forward to get rid of the grotesque creature behind you. Your blood coated the ground and Kíli’s heart leapt into his throat as he watched your eyes slowly fall shut, almost shut, while he stood frozen in fear for your life. The orcish blade suddenly moved, and so did Kíli, he parried and attacked, but more orcs came in to fight him off from the one that held you in his grasp.

The disgusting creature smiled evilly as he brought your chin up to stare at him. You were weak now, Kíli could tell. Your laboured breathing was getting weaker, you couldn’t open your eyes properly anymore. And so the orc stabbed you straight through your heart and your life drained faster than it ever should have had the possibility to do.

The orc took it’s misshaped hand and cut open your chest, only to grab the somehow still faintly beating heart in its grasp and ripped it out. And you were gone. You were dead.

Forever.

Anger gripped him and he fought his way to your corpse as the foul being had its way with what used to be you. There wasn’t much left of you once it was done, once Kíli reached your mutilated body. When he finally did, after beheading several orcs in his way, he fell to his knees beside you, weeping openly. He barely noticed another orc coming up behind him and with a short flash of pain, everything went black.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

He was thrashing in his sleep when you woke, mumbling something under his breath. You knew that he still had nightmares from the battle a couple of months back. You waited a couple of minutes and after a short while Kíli jerked up into a sitting position, gasping for air and calling out your name.

You knew better than to touch him just after he had woken, so you simply sat there while he checked your side of the bed and looked you over for wounds.

“Are you alright, Kíli?” you spoke softly, refusing to startle your husband more than he already was afraid of what he had dreamed of. The usually happy and cheerful dwarrow had tears rolling down his cheeks which you reached forward to brush away. As you did so, he leant into your touch, seeking more of it.

“I watched you die in the battle,” his voice cracked slightly, “I watched as an orc tore you apart. I could not do anything.” More tears spilled from his eyes now and you pulled him into you for a hug. “It’s alright,” you whispered to him as his breathing began to slow from the hyperventilating gasping to a more stable level, “I’m right here, I’m alive and I am not hurt. Shall I make you some tea? To help calm your mind?” Your husband nodded slowly, it would help taking his mind off of the nightmare that he had suffered from several times in the months after the battle.

And so you put a kettle of water over the fire, waiting for it to warm up while fixing the tea leaves and putting them in two cups. “Is it the same nightmare, Kíli?” you asked. It was routine by now. You would ask, and he would answer.

“Y-yes. It’s always the same one, the one where I am unable to protect you properly. Where I am unable to do what I am supposed to do. I am supposed to keep you safe, and yet you die, over and over and over again.” He looked like he was going to cry again, not that he ever would admit it to anyone except for you, of course, and you would tell anyone about it either.

“Maybe you should see Óin for something to help you sleep?” you had brought up the suggestion several times before, and he would always reject it. Often saying that it was temporary, that it would pass in due time. But it had yet to pass, and you were starting to grow worried now. “No,” came his sleep roughened voice, “It would not help.” He still hadn’t calmed down. Not really, you could see it in the way that his eyes were still wandering over to you every so often, to see if you really were there.

“I’m here Kíli, I am here, alive and well,” you spoke slowly as you put the steaming teacup in his hands. They were shaking, his hands, trembling just enough for you to be able to see it. And so you grasped the cup, just as he was about to drink the by far too hot liquid and set both his and yours aside before leaning against the headboard, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer. “The tea is still too warm Kíli, we can not have you burn your tongue, can we?” He knew what you were doing of course, what you were going to do as your hands rose to his face and gently tugged him downwards, only for him to end up leaning his head against your chest.

“Do you hear that, Kíli? Listen to it for a while,” you hummed as he finally started to properly relax, “Take it as proof. That sound is proof that I’m alive, that you succeeded in keeping me alive. I’m here thanks to you, and you know that, do you not?” You gained a soft sigh in response. He was starting to calm down now, so you stopped speaking and simply raised your hand to his hair, lacing your fingers in the unruly strands that never really did what they were supposed to. He sighed again and with a little grunt settled against you, lying in between your legs and leaning his head against your chest, his ear pressed closely to your skin, listening to the rhythmic beating of your heart.

Petting his hair had always calmed him down, so now he was close to drifting off again as you started humming on a well known melody, one that you had sung to him many times before and the very same that all the dwarrows, including yourself, had sung in Bilbo’s home the first night of the quest. Here it was, completed, and with all the members miraculously alive and well.

And so, with a mumbled ‘thank you’, Kíli fell back asleep, resting in your lap and listening to your heartbeat. He was not plagued by more nightmares that night, for you were right there with him.

Tags:

@clementinejones​

[tamakiamajikistentacles]

Nightmares {Katsuki Bakugo}

Bakugo knew that he was safe and that he had been safe for weeks. After returning from Kamino physically unscathed with his classmates and watching the downfall of the country’s ultimate hero, he brushed off everyone’s worry and became annoyed at their fretting over him. He was fine, so why ask him if he was alright?

Except, maybe, he wasn’t.

Maybe he wasn’t alright because the nightmares wouldn’t go away.

Some of those nightmares weren’t of Kamino, some were still about the sludge villain from middle school. Those had lingered for months but they were few and far between. But once Kamino occurred, that was all he could see when he closed his eyes.

One nightmare was a fight against the League in the bar. There was no knock at the door for pizza, no Edgeshot or Kamui Woods to interfere with All Might, just the advancing villains ready to take him on 8 to 1. He would fight them off and take them down only for another to step in and round and round it went until his arms throbbed and his vision blurred. The nights that one came, he would wake up in a cold sweat and breathing heavy, the whisper of overuse in his arms on the edge of his nerves, but he was alright. He could shake off the feeling of being cornered and go about his day.

Another one was of his escape from the charred battlefield in the heart of Kamino, his face feeling the heat from the desolation as he looked skyward to see his classmates—Deku, the class rep, and Kirishima. The redhead called to him and he knew what to do, blasting himself into the sky and reaching out and trusting, hoping, praying, that he used enough force to connect their hands. But he hadn’t, and he felt himself falling backwards down to the villains and All for One and a losing All Might. On those nights, he would wake with a strangled gasp, his stomach still churning with the feeling of plummeting through the air, and it took hours to get his head right.

There was another version of that scenario, too, one where he made it high enough to take Kirishima’s hand, a smirk etching itself on his chapped lips as they flew through the air. Everything was as it had been in real life, until he felt the intense, heated pressure around his ankle, the ominous tendrils from All for One wrapping tightly around him and pulling him back down. His hand, sweaty from the fighting and adrenaline and fear, slipped from Kirishima and he would open his mouth in a soundless yell as he was pulled back down. When he woke up from that, his arm would still be outstretched, tears would be pooled at the corners of his eyes, and the look of pure despair on Kirishima’s face would echo through his mind. Those ones left him silent, panic buzzing lightly through his nerves as nightfall neared and he would need to sleep again.

One brutal night after they had moved into the dorms, only a few days away from their provisional license exam, he came to know the worst nightmare imaginable.

He had been pulled from Kirishima’s grip and once low enough to the ground, brought in front of All for One’s imposing figure to act as a barrier between him and All Might. Steam would be escaping the deteriorating hero in front of him, blood flowing freely from his mouth and down his neck.

All for One snaked the black and red appendage up his body to rest around his neck, the choking feeling bringing back panic-induced memories of the sludge villain and the black mass suffocating him to get to where he was and when the scarred Dabi had dragged him through the warpgate at the camp.

“Let me show you,” a sickening voice sang in his ear, “the potential of your power.”

Bakugo wasn’t sure if he actually felt the darkened tendril pierce his chest amidst the panic of his airway being cut off but upon losing control of his body, he felt the pain blooming in his chest and behind his eyes as he watched on, unblinking as an isolated spectator.

He saw his hands being raised in front of him, his palms glistening in the low light and incredible heat.

“Your power,” the voice began again, “will aid me in finishing something I should have taken care of a long time ago.”

He felt his palms crackling, and he wanted desperately to look away.

“I was considering giving you boosters, but I’ve seen what you can do, and I think this will be so much better if it is purely through your own strength.”

His palms grew hotter and began to emit a brighter spark, and in his mind, he started to scream.

“Forced quirk activation!” the voice boomed, and he felt the explosions burst from his palms straight towards All Might, who’s gaunt expression turned grim before the blast engulfed him.

Bakugo woke up with a violent jerk and flailed his arms that he finally had control over again, his limbs entangling in his blankets making his panic shoot up higher at the restriction. He cursed, still partly asleep and unaware of his surroundings, and pitched himself over the side of his bed, landing hard on his hands and knees as he panted into the wooden floorboards. His stomach lurched violently and his back spasmed as he began dry heaving, his fingers scraping against the wood as his hands curled into fists.

He could only hear his heartbeat in his ears for a few tense moments, until he realized that part of the thumping he was hearing was coming from his door.

The words coming through the door were concerned, that much he could tell, but he couldn’t make them out. The voice, though, that he knew. It was the same voice who had called out to him against a blackened sky and extended a hand to save him despite knowing he probably wouldn’t have done the same.

He raised a hand to search his bedside table blindly, fingers grasping the key to his room that he skittered across the hardwood to slip beneath the door.

The knocking ceased, replaced by a click as the handle turned and light from the hallway flooded his room from behind a tall silhouette.

“Bakugo!”

The door closed and with it went the light which gave him mixed feelings; comfort at Kirishima not being able to see his tears, but uneasiness at the darkness similar to his dream.

“Hey, man, hey,” the redhead muttered as he dropped to his knees beside him, hands hovering close but afraid to touch.

Bakugo looked up at him beneath sweat-matted bangs, one hand shooting out to grip his classmate’s shirtsleeve. The soft material assured him that he was in the waking world as he felt it slowly dampen with the moisture from his palm.

Still breathing hard but with his stomach settling slightly, he unfurled his fist from the fabric and let it drop to the crook of Kirishima’s elbow and allowed his fingers to scrabble down to grip his hand tightly. He had to prove to himself that he could keep himself tethered to the world of heroes, to his classmates.

“Bakugo, are you alright?”

He looked up from their clasped hands, red eyes meeting red eyes, and he took the first deep, calming breath of the night. In the moonlight filtering in through his veranda doors, he allowed himself a moment of what the Katsuki Bakugo of six months prior may have considered weakness.

Now, his once-blind eyes opened to the real meaning of heroism and what sacrifices were made to protect him, he acknowledged that he was stronger, perhaps his strongest, as he gathered everything in him to breath one word to the redhead who he considered to be his closest ally.

“No.”

[madame-brioche]

Title: Angel On The Battlefield part 2

Author: madame-brioche

Prompt: Heffron x nurse reader

Warning: some angst

When you found Babe in his foxhole, he was curled up like a newborn pup in the snow and dirt, wearing the dingy green uniform that the other paratroopers wore, his helmet pulled down low and his nose and mouth tucked into the collar of his jacket. He was asleep, grasping his thin blanket tightly and sniffling sharply every few seconds. His face was the color of the snow, the tip of his nose a frostbitten red. Big ash-colored circles had formed under his eyes, and as you took his hand you realized it was beginning to turn an unnatural sort of color, like they'd been submerged in hot water.

You could see that Babe looked much weaker than he'd been the last time you checked on him.

As you smoothed back sweat-drenched strands of hair, you found his forehead very warm to the touch; and when you tried to get him to wake up, you had to call his name and gently shake him a little bit before his eyes opened. Once he woke up he grabbed at his side especially hard. As you helped him get into a sitting position, his eyes sort of rolled back and his head hung loose like a rag doll.

"Y/N..." He whimpered, falling against the crook of your arm. "Jesus, I've got a deep burning pain in my side..."

"You’re burning up," you said, trying to steady his shoulders. "Doc Roe told me you weren't feeling so good. When was the last time you ate, Private? You should probably get a hot meal."

He shook his head as much as he could, which was only a little. "I ain't hungry. I've been feeling like this for a few days now, but this," he gripped his side again, "something's wrong..." As he stood up, the pain seemed to increase a little bit, and he stared down at you worriedly, bringing his hand away from his side and holding it up to reveal blood staining his palm and fingers. "Oh," he whispered, with a small wince.

"Dear God," you breathed, pulling his jacket away and seeing a rather large pool of blood soaking his shirt. You lifted up the hem to find a gaping wound on his left side, the dried blood caked around the wound telling you it had gone untreated for a bit. The blood that was pouring out now must have been the result of him standing. "Why didn't you say anything? When were you shot? You're bleeding!"

Babe looked down at the gunshot wound as if seeing it for the first time. "I'm bleeding," he repeated numbly.

"Hey, look at me," you snapped, turning his chin so he would gaze back up at you. "When did you get hit?"

He looked around in a dizzy haze, shrugging his shoulders with some difficulty. "I remember...hearing Shifty call for me...and I ran to help him hold the line...somewhere along the way, I guess..." He trailed off, looking like he was about to collapse at any second. "I don't know, I woke up to you shaking me."

Your mouth was agape as you listened, wondering how in the hell he hadn't completely bled out. He must've passed out from a combination of both the pain from the wound and his fever.

He produced a weak smile and then cringed as he tried to move. "It certainly is nice to see you."

You returned his smile with a firm look of determination and brushed some more hair out of his face. "Everything will be alright. But you’re coming with me. We need to get you fixed up."

“Whatever you say,” he managed as you placed his hand back on the wound, trying to keep pressure on it. He grabbed onto your sleeve, with the other hand, looking very anxious and maybe a little scared. "I can't, Y/N—I cant leave them, they need me, what would happen if—"

"It's okay," you said, holding on to him tighter. "I'm sure they'd rather you get better. At any rate, what good will it do if you stay and fight with an open wound and a fever?”

Nodding and then stumbling a little as you pulled him toward the Jeep, he coughed painfully, causing you and the Jeep driver to exchange a worried look.

As soon as the Jeep arrived at the remaining ruins of the town, you opened the door to a church that had been cleared out for the sick and wounded, guiding him into the cool, incense-thick air. Just as soon as he'd reached the top of the staircase, Babe slumped against the wall again, screaming in pain. But the cry itself took a lot out of him, and you barely caught him in time as he collapsed. The two of you sat down for a moment to rest, his groans of agony making you nervous about the severity of the wound.

"Y/N," he mumbled as you pulled him close to you and hugged him tightly, "I don't have one on me, but I need—"

You caught on to what he was rambling about. "Right," you said, leaning him against the stairway wall and then standing up to head for the back of the church. "You wait here, I'll get you morphine."

"N-no," he called out after me, his voice hoarse. "Not morphine. I n-need a cigarette."

As you worked your way through the crowded hall, you could feel him holding onto one of your hands, like a captain clinging to his sinking ship. One look back at him and you saw his bloodshot eyes start to look glassy with tears. And the way he was staring at you was like he didn’t really recognize who you were.

"You’re too good to me," he mumbled, causing you to pause and gently wrap your arms around him again, careful not to hurt the wound.

"You stop talking like that," You said, trying not to cry. Maybe it was the lack of sleep; maybe it was the awful scenes of carnage and war; and maybe it was thrilling rush at hearing Babe Heffron admit his fondness for you during such a tense time; no matter the reason, the very idea of his death made you sick to your stomach.

"It’ll be okay," You reassured him, looking up at him and wiping some stray tears away from his cheeks. "You can be a brave soldier for me, right? I know you can. And once this is all over," You added with a smile, "you'll be home in South Philly in time for Christmas."

He laughed softly, then shrugged as best he could. "Hopefully—hopefully you'll be there too, Y/N?" He said.

Not really thinking clearly, you could only mumble, "Hopefully. Yeah."

Seeming a little afraid, Babe whispered, "I never meant to get shot, or get sick, Y/N. I thought I was taking care of myself alright—"

"You’ll be fine," You said. "We need to focus on getting you better."

Suddenly you eyed a pile of discarded uniforms and, jogging over to them, you fished around in the pockets until you found a pack of cigarettes. You lit one and brought it back to Babe, who took liberal drags from it. He didn't complain at all when a few hot ashes fell onto his hand, reveling in the calming effect it had on his pain; but his problem with coughing only seemed to be getting worse, and it wasn't easy for him to speak.

Once he blew out a few grey clouds, though, the nicotine appeared to take hold of him pretty quick, easing his nerves enough so that you could pull him up and help him down the stairs. Alas, after a few steps, Babe trembled again and screamed, this one sounding a lot more desperate and gut-wrenching, like a wounded animal caught in a trap. The two of you were just outside the door to what appeared to be a bedroom with a single cot, and you decided the best thing would be to take him in and get him on the bed and quarantined away from the others.

"No!" Babe gasped, as you ushered him to the door. "No, Y/N, we can’t go in there! That’s the priest's cloister, we can't, it’s sacred!"

"Hey," You stopped him, gently pushing him down onto the thin, white spread that covered the cot. You'd forgotten how devout he was. "I’m sure he won’t mind." As his head hit the pillow, you scanned the room for something to warm him with, finally landing on a mosaic-like quilt that was folded up on a bench by a stain-glass window. "There," You said, tucking him in as he shivered. "You need to keep breathing slowly, in and out. Don’t work yourself up."

Even with all his shaking, Babe was able to tug the quilt up around him, nuzzling into it. "I forgot what having a bed felt like," he whispered.

You knelt down on your knees next to the bed and stroked his hair, a small smile playing at your lips. "It's nice, right?"

He groaned in pain once more, and you took the dying cigarette from his shaking fingers and put it out. You removed your cantine from around your neck. "You want some water?"

"Yeah," he said, but he just couldn't keep it down without having another coughing fit. Frightfully rolling around with his hand on his side, he whimpered out, then began to bite his lip so hard he drew blood.

You needed to treat that wound fast, and so, urging Babe to fight a little longer, you bolted into the hall and tried to find one of the other medics who might be able to help. You called out for several, but everyone was busy helping those with blown off limbs and life-threatening damage to the viscera.

Worriedly, you ran back down to Babe. Exhaling a shaky breath you didn’t even know you were holding, you realized that Babe had stopped his agonizing tremors, for the time being. You crouched beside him, holding his sweaty, blood-stained hand to your cheek and leaning into it ever so slightly.

He rolled over and offered you a half-wink. "I heard you out there. Calling for a medic..."

"One will be here soon," You said, shaking your head. Then you added softly, “Are you going to be brave for me, Babe?"

He nodded. "You’re the brave one, Y/N," he mumbled, his grin widening. "A brave angel." His eyes floating to look at the stain-glass, Babe breathed out a sharp, painful sigh. "I’ve dreamt about you taking care of me. But now that I’m living it, I ain’t sure it’s what I want. I was thinking more along the lines of you kissing a paper cut or something..." he teased with a broken laugh. Then his grin faded, worrying you immediately, until his face scrunched up into a look of confusion. “Though I gotta know, Y/N—”

"What, Babe?"

"Why? You crying over me like this — why?”

You nuzzled against his hand again. "That doesn't sound like the happy-go-lucky guy I know," you said. "How can I expect to visit you in South Philly if I left you out in the cold?"

He raised his other hand and gently hit your shoulder. "Come on," he said. "Why, Y/N?"

"Ask me when you get better. You're not thinking clearly."

"I'm askin' you now. Why?"

You just looked away and closed your eyes for a moment, then took his hand into both of yours tightly. "Because I like you, Babe."

"Perhaps," he breathed, "perhaps you might love me, too?"

You smiled again. "Well, perhaps I might."

This time he brought your gaze up to meet his with a hand under your chin. "I knew it," he replied, his lips forming a delicate smile, "you can’t even say it out loud, not even for me..." Then he looked back at the stain-glass, his eyes reflecting the flares outside. "Huh, Y/N might love me, too?” He mumbled in a state of stunned amusement. “Interesting.”

The stain-glass vibrated a bit at the sound of distant war outside. Babe didn't even flinch, however. After he’d said those words he’d closed his eyes and fallen asleep, exhaustion and immense pain taken hold of him. You kissed his hand, keeping it close to your cheek and hearing his heartbeat through his wrist. Resting your head against the side of the bed, you waited for a medic to come in...

You woke up to a hand on your shoulder, softly shaking you awake, expecting it to be the medic. But instead you found Captain Winters, pulling you away gently from the now empty bed.

[elmidol]

Prisoner of the First Order (NSFW)

Three Blind Tooke Part One Resistance is Futile

Read on AO3

Warnings: oral, face sitting, attempted murder

Three Blind Tooke Part One: Resistance is Futile Chapter Thirteen: Prisoner of the First Order

As our bodies lie entwined, I am not yours, you are not mine; Strangers interlocked with fate, One of us the killer, the other the bait.

If someone had told you that you would be straddling Kylo Ren’s face, you would have wondered what the hell they were talking about. If they had told you that you would be grinding down against him as he moaned underneath you, his tongue buried in your cunt, you would have blushed and probably either slapped or punched them in the face. Yet that was exactly what you were doing. Your hands were still in their restraints, so you could not grab at his head, else you would. Instead you pressed yourself closer against him. You could feel his lips curl into a smile, his eyes full-blown as he stared up at you in with a lust-filled gaze.

Your breathing was heavy, and you threw your head back as you were brought to orgasm. Kylo Ren swallowed greedily, his tongue lapping until he had his fill. Only then did he turn you around so that he could lower you where your head was upon the pillow. The sound of his zipper being dragged down had your eyebrows rising. Before he did anything else, he crossed his arms in front of himself, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and pulled the cloth over his head. Your eyes wandered along his naked torso. He was well-toned; something you could have appreciated more had the two of you been on the same side of the war. You pushed aside such thoughts, allowing yourself to be wrapped up in the moment.

The sight of him seizing his bottom lip with his teeth as he pushed the head of his cock into you had you gasping as much as the pleasant pressure derived from that action. He was clearly enjoying himself, letting go more than he ever had. His mouth was open, his eyes closing as he started to fuck you. You licked your lips, watching as he moved so that his chest was to yours. Your shirt was riding up on you; he hadn’t touched it in any attempt to remove the cloth from you. A part of you was thankful for this—a rather large part. His mouth was on your throat, tongue and teeth attacking until he shifted to kiss your cheek. You nuzzled your way to his neck.

Having been so obedient up to that point, you were able to go for it. He had his defenses down, and you sunk your teeth into him. Blood splashed into your mouth, and you kept biting down. Harder and harder—until his hand flew up and he pinched the sides of your face so that you were forced to release him. Kylo Ren pulled out of you, thrusting you away from him and onto the ground. You rolled, leapt up to your feet, and headbutted him, knocking him back against the bed when he had been attempting to stand.

In your peripheral, you could see he had one hand over the injury, keeping the blood from rushing out of him. It was not necessarily a fatal wound, however you knew you had gotten him good. You whipped to the side when he successfully stood, turned, and aimed a kick in his direction. He caught it on his forearm, extended his hand, and summoned his lightsaber into it. You watched as it flew across the room. You grit your teeth, knowing that even one-handed he was a formidable foe. Even mostly naked with his cock hanging out. The man ignited the three plasma blades, and you had to literally drop to the ground to avoid losing an arm.

You rolled—towards him rather than away. At the same time, you angled your body so that you could thrust both your feet at his thigh. You were forced to instead hook your legs halfway up the length of his, using his limbs to pull yourself around him so that you were not stabbed in the shoulder. Sparks flew from where the hot blade met the floor.

I need my fucking hands! you screamed in your head. The next time he aimed an attack your way, you maneuvered yourself so that the blade cut through the chain that connected the shackles on your wrists. Though your hands were still covered by the mittens, which you could not remove due to the shackles, you found that you were able to better defend yourself. You extended one of your arms, using your uninjured hand to grab a part of the bed. You threw yourself across the piece of furniture, putting some distance between you and your captor. A weapon…a weapon…

Suddenly, however, you were paralyzed. You swore in your head, having forgotten about his ability to render you immobile in your desperation to harm or even kill him. You had been on your best behavior since he had given you the cookie; yet while you had been locked away from him for those six cycles, you had been plotting. If kindness was your weakness, you had wondered, why could it not be his as well? And you had learned from your mistake with the mirror shard. He was always on his guard…except for when you were having sex with him.

As he moved around the bed, he at last dropped his hand from his neck in order to adjust himself. You watched the blood slipping down him at a rate that suggested he would need stitches; perhaps a blood transfusion if he took too long in seeking medical attention. You felt a certain level of satisfaction in knowing you had given him that injury. Even if you were about to be killed.

Kylo Ren loomed over you, slowly raising his lightsaber until one of the crossguards was level with your throat. Being paralyzed, you could do nothing except move your eyes to watch each movement he made. Your captor turned the lightsaber to the side and brought the smaller plasma blade closer to your neck. You could feel the heat emanating from it, sweat gathering on your body. Closer and closer. The heat practically burning you—and then doing just that when for a split second it touched your flesh. He drew back the blade almost immediately. You knew then that he had no intention of killing you. No; you, apparently, still held information he wanted.

His thumb hit the switch, and the blades disappeared. “You react poorly to kindness.” Metal and his fist collided with the side of your face. You felt something snap in your jaw and a flash of red and white clouded your vision as you fell to the floor. You were once more in control of your body, not that it did you any good. Raising one of your mitten-clad hands, you touched your face and immediately shuddered. Dislocated, you knew.

He stepped away, the man stumbling a single step due to his blood loss. Though you had ultimately lost and though you were in pain, you inwardly gloated. Kylo Ren tossed his lightsaber onto the bed, covered his wound once more to stifle the flow of blood, and picked up his commlink. He called for a physician as well as stormtroopers. You were dragged out of the room almost immediately, the stormtroopers taking you to med bay so that your dislocated jaw could be remedied.

You were shackled to one of the beds and heavily drugged. The physicians gave you a liquid diet. As for clothing, following a shower you were given a gown commonly worn by patients. You objected to nothing, much too out of it with the drugs they were giving you.

On one of the occasions when you awoke, you blinked your eyes open to find General Hux standing at the end of your bed. His cold stare, those blue eyes, were taking you in with minor curiosity and more than a little disgust. He asked one of the nurses about your condition; it seemed he wanted to use you for more information. Given that you were still having pain and difficulty opening your mouth much, the redhead left without getting what he wanted from you.

When you had recovered a bit more, you were removed from medbay and taken instead to one of the cells aboard the Finalizer. You waited whenever you were awake, counting the seconds and minutes and hours that piled atop one another. It was not as though you had anything better to do.

You took to fantasizing about the past, about a number of your fallen comrades.

Ip sighed in contentment as he lay on his back. You were lying beside him. The two of you had completed a mission wherein not a single one of your comrades had lost their lives. It was not as though there were constant battles between the Resistance and the First Order. Sometimes it was hard to forget that. Yet when the two of you were on your backs and staring up at all the constellations, it was even harder to remember that there was a war going on at all.

“Meep, what’s your biggest fear?” he asked. Your eyes slid over to Ip. You had seen the creature—person, your mind corrected, yet you ignored it—known as Kylo Ren three times on the battlefield now. That was where your thoughts immediately flew to, however you nudged them aside.

Your gaze left his face to return to the stars. “I…don’t know. Being helpless?”

“Helpless against what?” Ip questioned, urging you to elaborate. Your lips tugged into a frown. Beside you, the man snorted. “Sheesh. If you have to think that hard about it…everything?”

“Well… It’s hard to think about, like, how it was before I joined the Resistance. I was only afraid of more simple things. Not being beautiful. Dying young. Not having a decent job or family. A lot of superficial things.”

“Dying young doesn’t seem superficial.”

“I was also afraid of growing old,” you admitted, wrinkling your nose. That earned a chuckle from your companion. “I guess…it’s that… It was superficial then. I’m still afraid that I will die…die young at that…in this war. But it isn’t uselessly throwing my life away. What I meant by dying young was that…something stupid would happen, and I wouldn’t have done anything worth having lived for. Joining the Resistance…I am willing to die for this, and that doesn’t seem like a waste to me.”

“I think this is why you’re my favorite right now, Meep.” Your frown disappeared, your lips pulling upwards into a small smile. “For your age…you have a mature outlook on things.” For your age. As though you were not even an adult, yet you were. It nearly made you laugh, however your smile merely grew a few inches. “You understand and appreciate the risks, but you know it’s worth it… Not everyone has that level of conviction. And a number who do, man, I think they would crumble in the face of adversity.” It was a high compliment, and you found yourself speechless upon hearing it. “Don’t change, Meep. Don’t let this war break you at all.” You nodded, still unable to find your voice.

The door to your cell opened. You snapped out of your thoughts. Icy-blue eyes set in a cold gaze. Red hair. General Hux strode into the cell with you. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he had an air of superiority about him befitting of his position. He moved forward until he was directly in front of you. You did not flinch under his scrutiny, though you felt rather unnerved by it.

“There are a number of ways to extract information from you,” he drawled, as though it were beneath him to have you even breathing in his presence. “I am aware of your stubbornness. Now, how shall we proceed?”

You blinked slowly. “You should kill me,” you said evenly. His lips quirked up into a smirk. There was something in his gaze that spoke admiration, though he gave no words of praise; not that you had expected him to, given that the two of you were enemies. “I’ve said it repeatedly.”

“Yes, I am aware,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “And yet we have managed to obtain information from you all the same. It has taken time, however you have proven to be quite useful.”

“I have nothing left to say, to give,” you stated, prompting General Hux to step closer. He kept a certain distance between your face and his. This was much different than how Kylo Ren had treated you. “What?”

The high ranking First Order officer released what sounded almost as though it was a breathy laugh. “Other Resistance members who were subjected to isolation broke within the first week.” You blinked. “It’s been three, and here you aren’t even begging to give me information. I see now what Ren spoke of; you are patient. How long were you placed in solitary confinement during your training?” Your lips pressed into a thin line. “Such a cruel method, yet they clearly conducted themselves in an effective manner. The entire second cell wasn’t eliminated, was it? There are three long-distance shooters per cell at any given time. Two of which are highly trained. One always a trainee to replace one of the other two. Only one of the veterans deployed at a time.

“That much we obtained by watching you, by tracking the movements of your cell…by killing the members of it. The second cell—we had believed that all were eliminated, however I had my doubts. The trainee and one of the veterans were killed. Yet the other, after observing you, I have come to conclusion that she or he is alive. In hiding. Patient. But the First Order is plenty patient as well. And you do have your uses. Simply speaking to you, my suspicions have been confirmed.” You narrowed your eyes at him, your face flushing hot at your unwitting betrayal of Resistance information. “Would you like a shower?”

You snarled. “If you’re going to rape me—“

He laughed, a rich sound. “Oh. No. Physically, I won’t deny that you are appealing. However, I have no interest in fucking you. You’re Resistance.” You waited for that next word, the one so many of the First Order spoke. Yet he did not utter it, not until he at last removed his hands from behind his back and set the fingertips of one to his forehead. “Scum, correct? You are fascinating. The first, and perhaps only, that I don’t quite consider to be scum. In fact, your dedication is admirable.” How many times had you been told such things? “A number of my officers are, sadly, lacking in such faith. In such determination.

“Make no mistake: you are a prisoner of the First Order. Yet I can be civil. You can choose to remain here for longer—weeks, if it need be. Or you may have a shower in exchange for something so simple.” He paused. A dramatic effect that he employed so well. You felt yourself holding your breath. “I merely need to know how long you were tutored for.”

“Wh-what?” It had not been what you were expecting. In a way, it was a relief that Kylo Ren had not been able to snatch such information from you. The walls you put up were only so thick. You had been trained using solitary confinement in order for you to learn how to put up such mental walls. To not break so easily. To entertain yourself with ponderings, memories, and fantasies. “Tutored for?”

“Yes. In general. A rough estimate.”

“Why?”

“You’re the reason we latched onto the idea that there might even be a splinter cell. Your accuracy is astounding. Twelve high-ranking officers, most of whom were heavily guarded. Yet you managed to get those shots in. How long did they train you for?”

“You’re wondering whether or not I had a history with such weapons…”

“I am,” he admitted so plainly that it took you a moment to take it in. “Judging by your expression, I would say this is so.”

“Never long-distance.”

“You did, however, have a history with guns?” There truly was no harm in him knowing this. It had no effect on their search for the other Resistance members. You dipped your chin in a nod of confirmation. General Hux was perfectly silent for a number of seconds. The pregnant pause allowed you time to appreciate why he was in the position he was, why he held his position. This man was notorious amongst the Resistance members. You understood why. He was calculating, obviously willing to take risks. “I believe I promised a shower.” You felt your heart begin to race, anticipation and dread welling up inside of you. “A stromtrooper will come to escort…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing when you tensed. “What a queer reaction. Not that I can blame you. Trusting your enemy can be a foolish thing.”

“It’s what you permit them to do.”

“Hm? Ah, the ‘troopers themselves?” Again did you nod. “I see.” General Hux lifted the restraints that you were put in whenever you were hosed down—this had happened only a handful of times during the weeks you had been kept locked up—and worked them onto your wrists and ankles.

You did nothing to protest, to make him change his mind about leading you out of your cell himself. General Hux placed a gloved hand on your back and nudged you towards the door. You stumbled forward, your legs weak from lack of use. Righting yourself, you walked through the door when it opened. Officers and stormtroopers alike looked your way. They stood at attention when they noticed the General, who hardly paid them any heed. You could feel his eyes on you. Always analytical with you, learning from you. A formidable foe, you knew. The hairs on your arms stood on end.

You did not know how to feel when clearly he was escorting you to his private quarters. He had claimed to have no interest in touching you despite his admission that you were physically appealing to him. You wanted to take him at his word, as he had been honest with you thus far. Yet to trust your enemy, as he had stated, could be a foolish thing.

When the pair of you arrived inside his quarters, General Hux seized up his blaster. His finger slid over the trigger and his eyes wandered to your wrists as he unbound them. Holding the weapon level with your head, he instructed you to undo the restraints on your ankles. You obeyed, glad to be rid of them. His eyes were glued to your hands. More specifically, to the two tattoos. His lips twitched before twisting into a cruel smile. He said nothing, however, of the matter and instead gestured towards the door to the refresher. You made your way inside, knowing he was following you and would not leave you alone. This man did not trust you; and for that, you respected him all the more.

You undressed when you were told to do so. He kept his blaster pointed at you at all times. Even while you turned on the spray, waited for the water to heat up, and then climbed inside.

You looked at the scar on your hand from where the mirror shard had dug into your flesh. You turned your hand then and stared at the tattoo. He had put his name on you. Both his names. Yet you were something he was willing to discard when it came down to it. He truly did view you as spoils of war. A mere possession. Like a toy that a mother labels for her child in case it gets lost.

As you thought such things, you had reached for the soap, lathering it into a foam that you scrubbed onto your body. You fully showered, accepting a razor when General Hux handed it to you with the hand that was not holding the blaster. You eyed his weapon, which caused him to smile sardonically and inform you that it was of no use to you. His fingerprint was needed, you ascertained from this comment. You finished showering, shut off the water, and wrung out your hair before wrapping a towel around your body. You were allowed to dry off before he led you back to the other portion of his quarters.

There was a fresh pile of clothing on a chair. Folded to perfection, waiting for you. Upon being told that it was allowed, you walked over to the chair and grabbed the clothes. It was a sort of jumpsuit. Definitely a prisoner’s suit.

You were well aware this was not like your times with Kylo Ren. As soon as you were dressed, General Hux escorted you back to your cell. You had half expected him to pry, to attempt to gain more information from you. Why else take you all the way to his personal quarters? You did not dwell on such thoughts. You were perfectly complacent as he led you back to your cell, as he once more strapped you down to the table.

“So well trained in patience,” General Hux murmured. You could hear the appreciation in his voice, the admiration. You well understood where it came from. He was a general, after all. It was natural he would wish the same skills for all his men. The fact that he could appreciate it in an enemy spoke volumes. In many ways he was as deadly as Kylo Ren. “Yet it is human nature to seek out companionship, even if only on a temporary basis. He has no desire to see you—what was it he called you? Naboo…tooke?” You flinched. His voice was so level, so passive. He was not exactly teasing you, yet his words were like punches.

Kylo Ren had no desire to see you, your mind repeated. He had used you all up, gotten his fill. Or perhaps you had simply injured him enough to make him realize he could not take you lightly.

“We know precisely which planet the other LDS is currently on. Monitoring all in-coming and out-going ships. No red flags yet. Perhaps he or she died from injuries received.”

“You’re looking for a body for confirmation of that.”

“Naturally.” He once more used a pause, although this time it was to change gears. “You are surprisingly well-mannered.” You furrowed your brow, confused as to what he was implying. “Many in your position throw out careless insults, some of which betray information without them realizing what it is they are doing. You, on the other hand, know how to hold your tongue. You seem to choose your words carefully.” You narrowed your eyes, observing him as he watched you. “I am quite fluent in body language as well. Your feelings towards Ren are rather intriguing. Such conflict. You want him dead, and yet… Who is it that he reminds you of?”

“I don’t know what—“

“You needn’t lie. I am sure you’re more than aware that he reminds you of someone… or multiple people. Your general, no doubt,” he said, his smirk fully formed. You were uncertain whether or not the entire First Order knew of Kylo Ren’s heritage, however it seemed that this man did. “However, there seems to be someone else… Perhaps someone from your childhood?” You did nothing more than blink, however he tilted his head back a fraction of an inch, satisfied. “I see. A first love?” You frowned. “No?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Simple curiosity.”

“I’ve heard it’s deadly.”

“You are, by far, the most intriguing prisoner we have had.” It was a compliment, and in a way you were able to take it as such. He was referring to your personality, your reactions. Not your rank. Not your gender. Nothing other than the way you were communicating with him. It almost unnerved you, how much respect this man had managed to gain from you. You would never agree with him, his methods, or his cause; yet you would never be able to deny that you, too, were drawn into the conversation. “Childhood is a rather influential time in our lives.”

You stared at him, allowing your head to tilt to the side. “It was a character in a book.”

“That he reminds you of?”

“Not exactly. One of my friends on Naboo liked the character. I didn’t. It wasn’t until I was older that I finally understood the appeal the character had for her. A certain complexity that you don’t comprehend when you’re younger.”

“I see. Your interactions with Ren have reminded you of such complexities.”

“Where were you raised?”

There was a moment of quiet, which you believed meant he would not answer. “Arkanis.”

“I’ve never been there.” You sighed, closing your eyes and turning your face away from him. “The senator is part of the Centrist faction, isn’t she?”

“You’re rather well-versed in politics.”

“Not really. There is a lot I don’t know.”

“Is that modesty or avoidance?”

You chuckled, shaking your head a bit. “Both. You truly are perceptive.”

“It is solely the fact that you remain respectful that I am humoring your need for a conversation,” General Hux stated.

It was your turn to smirk. “Plus the off-chance that I reveal anything useful to you.”

“There is that,” he said, crossing his arms behind his back and watching you. You had once more turned to him, your eyes meeting his. “Yet I must admit that I don’t think you would be so careless…not yet. Perhaps the two of us will speak again…following the execution of the other LDS.”

You grit your teeth, yet kept your mouth shut as the First Order General left your cell.

Alone again, with nothing but your thoughts. You waited, waited, and waited. Time passed you by once more. You knew it had been longer than a day since the redhead had spoken with you. But exactly how long?

Kylo Ren doesn’t even care if I am well… He wants me dead. You sighed. That’s how it should be.

The door to your cell opened, and you again jumped. It wasn’t mealtime yet, was it? Your confusion only grew when Urvno stepped around so that you could see him. He had a kit with him, a syringe with local anesthetics. The physician nodded in greeting before setting to work at what he had come to do. He removed the chip from you, the birth control. You watched him, having forgotten it was even in you. You had forgotten that they needed to be replaced every now and again. Yet he did not lift up another syringe.

Urvno was beginning to pack away his things when you spoke to him. “That’s it?”

“There is no…need…for a new chip.”

“…I need to speak with…with General Hux.” Urvno appeared taken aback, however he fingered his pocket before drawing out his commlink. You waited patiently as he requested the general’s presence. A confirmation that the man would come came through the commlink. You and Urvno waited. When the redhead did enter, his eyes darted immediately to you, an expectant look on his face. “I… I need…the… I need a new chip.”

“A new chip,” General Hux repeated. His lips tugged into a frown. “You’ve been fondled in the past?” You swallowed down some spit as you slowly began to nod. It ashamed you to admit as much. Here you were, asking for a sort of mercy from your enemy. General Hux looked to Urvno. “Do it.” As his order was carried out, his blue eyes lingered on you. “Another week. It’s been a month since you’ve been here. A small portion of the third cell was located. All minor players. The cell knew to go into hiding… There must be a means of communication between the three cells. It would be how the Resistance would know when to send in new LDS trainees when replacements are needed.

“There is a chance the third cell has been dissolved from its previous state. Yet the LDS… the three from the third cell, and the one from the second, will continue to be hunted; make no mistake of that. You said you have never been to Arkanis.”

“So?” You winced as the chip was pushed into you.

“A Centrist faction of the New Republic. Those in opposition to your general, or at least the most vocal about it. If one wanted to hide, it would not be there. Too much of a risk. Neutral territory, or else one of the Populists’s planets. But they cannot hide forever.”

“You…you’ve infiltrated the New Republic…those Centrists…”

“You listen well. However, I would not necessarily call it an infiltration. The two factions were quite honest with their views.”

“Perhaps not to the extreme that they held them.”

“Perhaps not. This is true for both sides.” General Hux waited until Urvno finished putting away his things and left before speaking. “You’ve resigned yourself to your fate, I am sure. You’re willing to accept death for the sake of one last ditch effort at aiding the Resistance. Be that by holding your tongue or by harming someone… You would attempt to kill me if given the chance.”

“I would.”

“We understand one another.”

“That you plan to use me in some way…that I will fight against it. That’s all I understand.”

“I see. Then I will show you the same respect you have displayed by telling you this: unlike in the past, the punches will not be held. Ren has no interest in keeping you alive any longer. You are at our complete mercy.”

“You’re a merciless man.”

“I am a strategic man,” he countered, causing you to hold your tongue. “Ren has no interest in keeping you alive. I, on the other hand, am aware of certain benefits in not yet killing you. You need only to be properly tamed. You’re patient, yet so am I. I do not expect you to agree with me, nor am I under any misconception that you will ever fully yield to the First Order. However, I am aware of what lengths you would go to in order to aid the Resistance. What straws you would grasp at. So long as I control what victories you achieve, there can be no harm.”

“In other words, you’re treating me like a muzzled dog.”

“Or perhaps a de-clawed cat.”

“I guess that would be more accurate.”

“In that you will attempt to lash out with your teeth—with whatever resources and at whatever chance you get? Precisely.”

“You truly are a ruthless man.” His smile was a little less cruel, as though he appreciated your characterization of him.

[I left one monster for another; One had claws and the other had teeth. Always there was one thing I feared— Their silver tongues would frighten me.]

[avisteliterature]

[CM] Strength of Heart | Silas x Dirsteh (OC)

Writing commission for @lesterderosso, featuring her character, Dirsteh, and Silas from Intelligent Systems’ “Fire Emblem Heroes”. Thank you again for commissioning me!

It's been quite some time since Dirsteh was first summoned to Askr. A lot of things have happened since then, yet the battles remain a constant part of her every day life. The battlefield is an all too familiar place, and this current battle is no different from the ones she and the Order of Heroes have fought before.

Although she may possess doubts about her abilities to lead and the like, Dirsteh has complete faith in all of the Heroes and their commitment to the cause of helping Askr and the Order of Heroes. Putting her trust in everybody's training, Dirsteh's eyes search the area and naturally fall upon Silas. Even if she tries to keep her feelings for the knight in check when on the battlefield, she can't help but instinctively seek him out.

The Summoner finds Dirsteh a fair distance away. He seems to be struggling against a tome user, and her heart drops to her stomach. He's fallen off from his horse, having been caught off-guard and taken too much damage. Dirsteh notices the mage in the middle of an incantation, ready to strike, and it appears as though Silas has no way of dodging it. He can only hope to brace himself for the upcoming attack, but Dirsteh knows that he won't be able to take it.

She moves without so much of a second thought. She shouldn't have left her post, but her body was already moving towards where Silas was, seemingly ready to accept his fate.

Despite everything he's been through, the idea of death is still a terrifying thing. Silas shuts his eyes, afraid of witnessing the moment of his crushing defeat. The air crackles with energy from the mage's spell aimed towards him. He doesn't know why, but he finds himself waiting with bated breath for when the attack finally hits him.

...But it never comes.

Instead, he hears a familiar voice call out his name. It sounds so close when it shouldn't be, and Silas' eyes shoot wide open. He was so afraid of the pain that he anticipated to be coming, but he's met with something far worse than he could have ever imagined.

By pure luck, Dirsteh manages to make it to Silas on time, but with no way of defending or attacking, she has no choice but to take the mage's spell directly. Silas watches with pure shock and horror painted across his features as Dirsteh's body falls before his eyes. His blood runs cold, and for a moment, he can't think.

All he can do is stare at the Summoner's body lying on the ground in front of him, blood seeping from her wound and staining her clothes and earth underneath. It's the only thing he can see, everything else around him becoming nothing more than just a blur. His breathing is laboured as if he forgot how to do so, and his entire being trembles with a feeling he can't describe.

The cries of his allies finally break him out of his stupor. He snaps himself back to the present, determination setting into his features as he quickly makes his way towards Dirsteh. He tries to be careful with her, attempting to inspect and tend to her wound without jostling her too much, but he can't stop himself from shaking.

The other Heroes, having seen their beloved Summoner go down, immediately rush over to the couple's aid. Adrenaline pumps throughout all of them, and they successfully finish the battle without any other casualty; however, they don't have time to catch their breaths. Everybody crowds around Silas and Dirsteh, and it's an overwhelming situation.

"I'm going to bring her back to the castle," he tells the others as he stands back up, gingerly picking up Dirsteh along with him. Her complexion is pale, and he suspects that he's faring no better.

With the help of everybody else, Silas manages to get Dirsteh on his horse before mounting it himself. He holds her close to his chest, trying to ignore the way her warmth continues to leave her. With no time to waste, Silas spurs on his steed, praying to whatever gods may exist that they don't take Dirsteh away from him.

---

The castle is full of lighthearted laughter and chatter, everything seemingly at peace. Despite some of the others having gone out on a sortie to deal with Emblian forces, the Order of Heroes place a great deal of trust in their allies and Summoner. So when the doors suddenly swing open with a large bang of urgency, everybody stops with what they're doing. They turn their heads, curious, before their eyes widen when they see Silas standing there. His eyes are filled with sheer panic and fear, all the while holding Dirsteh, bloodied and wounded, close to him.

"Help—" He manages to barely choke out. His voice trembles and cracks with his plead. "Please—!!"

Everybody present immediately springs into action, dropping everything all at once. Heroes move aside to give Silas room to head towards the infirmary, some of them rushing to call upon any and all available healers and retrieve whatever items may be necessary to treat Dirsteh. They all move in a well-organized and co-ordinated fashion, no doubt a product of all the times they've battled alongside and helped each other.

The shocked healers usher in Silas and Dirsteh into the infirmary room, preparing a table for the injured woman. Silas sets her down, and he falters a bit as he takes a few steps back, the healers pushing their way in out of necessity to work on the wound as quickly as possible. Silas is frozen in place, a distraught look on his face as he watches the other Heroes surround Dirsteh who looks so much more paler now compared to before.

"Silas," Priscilla speaks up, calling the knight's name and snapping his attention back to reality before his thoughts can spiral downwards. He gasps and forces himself to tear his gaze away from Dirsteh's face. Priscilla's expression is sympathetic, and she places a gentle hand upon his arm. "We need you to leave the room and give us space so that we can concentrate," she tells him.

The young man shakes his head. "But—"

Whatever argument he had is cut off short as Priscilla gives him a careful tug towards the door. "It'll be okay," she tries to reassure him, making sure to keep her features calm and composed to hopefully give him some peace of mind. "We'll do everything we can to help her. We won't let anything bad happen to her, so please trust us."

"I..." Silas starts, wanting to try to convince Priscilla to let him stay so that he can watch over Dirsteh and make sure that she makes it through okay, but the words die in his throat. He presses his lips together in a firm line before giving a curt nod. "...Alright. I'm placing her in your capable hands."

"Everything will be okay," Priscilla repeats as she guides the reluctant knight to leave the room. "I promise."

Silas can only nod silently in acknowledgement and take the woman's words to heart. Priscilla flashes him another small smile before closing the door behind her. Now left all alone waiting outside the infirmary with nothing but his thoughts, Silas begins to go over the events that just transpired. It was his fault, he thinks to himself. Dirsteh wouldn't have gotten hurt if he had just been stronger. If he had just been faster at reacting. He failed her, he realizes.

A shaky breath leaves him at the thought, his back hitting the wall before sliding down to the floor. His mind and heart are a mess right now, and he feels dizzy. He keeps on replaying the same scene over and over and over again in his mind, and it makes his somatch twist and turn. He looks down at himself, only just now realizing that Dirsteh's blood is still on him. It's probably best if he goes to clean himself up, but he doesn't want to leave his spot. What if something happens? He wants to be there the moment it does.

The young knight exhales a deep breath, bringing his knees up to his chest and burying his face between them. The adrenaline is slowly starting to leave him, replaced instead with nothing but fatigue and exhaustion. Silas feels so weak. He should have been there for her. He should have stopped her. He should have been the one to take the hit, not her. What kind of knight was he if he failed to protect the one person he loves?

Silas falls deeper and deeper into his self-deprecating thoughts, almost to the point that they overwhelm and consume him, when he hears the door click open. He snaps his head upwards, his eyelids heavy. How long has it been? His sense of time is completely messed up.

Priscilla appears at the entryway, wearing a relieved smile on her face. That's certainly a good sign. "She's no longer in critical condition," she informs him, knowing that he would prefer if she went straight to the point. Silas' shoulders immediately relax. "That being said, she will still need to undergo heavy treatment for quite some time."

"Would it be okay if I stayed by her side?" Silas asks, hopeful.

The woman nods her head. "Yes, of course. If you'd like, you can even come and see her now."

Silas shakily stands back up on his feet and makes his way inside. Dirsteh was moved to a bed, her complexion still not at its best, but it's definitely than it was before. He remembers to thank all of the healers for their efforts, and they all nod before leaving him alone with the Summoner.

---

A few days have passed since that whole ordeal. Even though Dirsteh's life is no longer in danger, she still remains unconscious and has yet to wake up. Silas has remained by her side since then, only leaving her if and when absolutely necessary. Despite the Summoner being out of commission, the Order of Heroes continues to function as it normally would. Silas can't help but feel guilty for not participating in the battles or other miscellaneous tasks around the castle, but both Alfonse and Anna had assured him that they had everything under control and that he should just focus on looking after Dirsteh.

As per usual, Silas sits at Dirsteh's bedside, his hands balled into fists upon his lap. He continues to stare at Dirsteh's face, relieved that she doesn't look to be in pain, but is at the same time troubled that it's been a while since she last opened her eyes. It's during quiet moments like these that his thoughts start to drift and wander. His heart becomes heavy once more, a sense of self-consciousness tugging at the back of his mind when suddenly, he notices Dirsteh stir.

Silas' breath catches in his throat, and he finds himself overcome with all sorts of emotions. Dirsteh wakes up, groaning softly as her eyelids slowly flutter open. Silas releases the breath he was holding, relief washing over him. It's been so long since he's last seen her eyes. He's missed them so, so much.

Dirsteh appears dazed, her features twisted in slight confusion as the world comes back into focus for her. Her eyes glance around the room, taking note of her surroundings before her gaze locks with Silas'. His eyes are wet with unshed tears, and he forces himself to speak. "How are you feeling?" He asks, his hand instinctively reaching out to hold her own. It's warm in his grasp, and he gives it a slight squeeze.

"Sore and exhausted," Dirsteh answers before quickly changing the subject. "What happened...?"

Silas' expression falls, his lips tugging into a slight frown as he remembers his failure and shortcomings. He explains everything that's happened since that particular battle and catches her up to everything that has happened within the Order. Dirsteh listens with her full, undivided attention, her face slowly turning to mirror that of the knight's.

"...I'm sorry..." is the first thing she says the moment Silas is done talking.

His frown deepens, furrowing his brows as he furiously shakes his head from side to side. "You have nothing to apologize for," he insists, hoping to ease her concerns, but in doing so, falls into the trap of feeling guilt and shame. "...The blame lies with me."

"No, not at all," Dirsteh argues. "It's my fault for being reckless and just jumping straight in."

"No, it's my fault," Silas shoots back, sounding a bit harsher than intended. "If I was just stronger, then this wouldn't have happened!"

The two of them go back and forth, each equally trying to pin the blame on themselves. Perhaps it's because of the stress of the whole situation, but they aren't watching their volume and tone. Usually, the two of them would be much more subdued, but right now, they're emotional and unable to control their feelings. They continue to raise their voices, only to end up becoming entangled in a small argument.

"Like I said, I should have—!!" Dirsteh is unable to finish her sentence, letting out a small hiss as she winces in pain.

The argument that they were having stops at once, and Silas immediately stands from his seat, leaning closer towards Dirsteh. He's fussing over her, asking if she's alright and making a big deal of what was just a sharp but quick pang. Seeing Silas so worried over her, Dirsteh can't help but feel a bit guilty for raising her voice at him. He... truly cares for her.

"Sorry..." she apologizes with a smaller voice.

"No, I'm sorry, too..."

They both apologize meekly to one another for getting so riled up, and they each give the other a forgiving smile. They're quick to put their argument behind them, understanding that they're just worried and care for one another which is why they don't want to see the other beating themselves up over this.

"I..." Silas is the first to speak up again, his words coming out slowly but resolutely. "I promise to become stronger so that nothing like this will happen ever again. I promise to become stronger than ever for your sake."

Dirsteh flashes him a melancholic smile. "You aren't alone," she reminds him. She moves to grab his hand and interlock their fingers together. "While we were arguing with each other, I was thinking... How do you feel about the idea of changing your training sessions so that you can become more resistant to magic?"

Silas nods his head, taking up the Summoner's suggestion without a second thought. "Sounds good."

"Great!" Dirsteh beams. "In that case, I'll get back to work right now and start helping you train."

"Absolutely not!" The knight reprimands her, temporarily letting go of the woman's hand so that he can gently but firmly grab her shoulders and stop her from getting up. Although he's happy to see Dirsteh so eager to get back into the flow of things and to have things back to normal, she still hasn't fully recovered. She needs to rest, first and foremost.

"We can get to that later," he insists. "For now, just focus on getting better and let me be selfish and look after you for just a bit longer..."

Dirsteh's cheeks become alight with embarrassment, but joy dances behind her eyes. She can't help but giggle and agree to his request. She supposes it's fine to let herself be spoiled by him after everything that's happened.

[scav-eng-er]

“If Nothing Else, We Have This.” TROS Alternate Ending Part 2/?

okay..so I’m very tired and literally re-wrote the beginning so many times and I’m very tired lol (it’s almost 1 am) But here is the second part of my Alternate TROS Ending! I have an outline for part 3 already and MY REYLO HEART IS SCREAMING. Please be aware that I tried to give Leia the best of the best, so if there is something you guys think I could edit, please let me know. I really hope you guys like this and I am sending hugs and kisses to @reylo-trash-4ever and @mojona1999 because you two are my sweet reylomates and beans and ily <3.

Update: Im so sorry i forgot the first part if anyone needs the link lol sorry im a wreck. 

Part 1:  https://scav-eng-er.tumblr.com/post/190171393259/if-nothing-else-we-have-this-tros-alternate

“Any news from Poe and his team?” 

“Nothing yet General.” 

A wave of worry flushed over General Organa as she watched the makeshift screen blink rapidly. Tiny dots, indicating Poe’s X-wing and the rest of his ships, hovered around the grid, pinpointing their locations out in the battle. Occasionally, a red dot would disappear and across the base, another screen with the profile of the pilot would burn red with large letters titled: Connection failed. The chaos ensued back at the main base and was just as hectic as the actual battlefield. Commands were announced or yelled through holo-coms and com-links while groups from the skies and land asked what the next plan of attack was. More pilots ran around the princess, prepping their fuel tanks and testing their blasters, oblivious to see the exhaustion in her eyes. Technicians gave last minute check-ups on weapons and hurried back  and forth along the forest floor. Lieutenant Connix continued to give orders, her brows furrowed, her eyes flickering back and forth between the many screens. Leia sensed it, both sides were tired. The resistance were on their knees, using their last push of hope to try and defeat Palpatine. But she also sensed doubt in the First Order. In Ben. 

He was confused, hurt and torn. Pulled in different directions. This unknowing in him had already impacted the First Order and their so-called impenetrable power. When she felt him begin to question everything, just a few hours ago, she had finally felt more hope spark in her heart. She felt the heat of his saber as it impaled her son, Rey didn’t miss. Her heart soared when the refreshing feeling of Rey’s life force healed Ben’s wound. Yes, there was still hope. But was it enough?

Would this be enough to finally end it all? 

A sudden pain erupted from Leia’s chest. Sucking in a gasp, she quietly sat on a boulder, hiding her pain from scurrying pilots as they prepped for another take-off, soon to assist wounded comrades at Exegol. Her body was cold, and she felt weak, defeated…dead. Something had happened to Ben, her Ben. Her hand shook as she covered her mouth to prevent the whimpers of her sobs escape. Blinking back tears, and with the last reasonable idea she could think of, she reached out. Out to the one person she knew could help.

“Luke.” She whispered. 

He appeared to her, glowing brighter in the sun. His transparency, in no way hid his happiness to see his sister, aged with time from living her life. Even after all these years, Luke could see how youthful Leia was, her smile was timeless and her strength spanned generations. It inspired those who were now part of the resistance. He had told himself a million times how he wished she had continued her studies. Perhaps the galaxy would’ve turned out different, less pain, less hate. She would’ve saved Ben before Palpatine had even tried to touch him, preventing the world from becoming what it was now.

Yet, here they were, on the precipice of an ending war. The battle happening galaxies away that would determine the outcome of their family, resting on the shoulders of his nephew, her son. 

“It’s time.” Leia stated, her voice calm and strong despite the streaks of tears down her rosy cheeks. She was prepared, ready for this day. Luke sensed it too. He knew just how far a mother would go to save her son. He said nothing, but kneeled down and like so many times before, placed a sweet kiss on his sister’s forehead. Leia closed her eyes, not seeing the few tears making their way down Luke’s cheeks. 

And just as quiet as he arrived, he was gone. 

For the first time, in a very long time, Leia felt at peace. She stood up, no pain in her heart, no worries on her mind. The princess gazed at the base around her. Everything moved in slow motion. The sounds of people and engines droned out. Leia took a step into the sun. It was warm against her skin, as she remembered her life. 

Han, her loving, brave, handsome, and annoyingly-arrogant husband. He had filled her life with laughs, tears and love as they stuck together. He was at peace, she knew that. He had never been upset with Ben, he just missed his son. Their son.

Ben. Her only child who was caught in something so much greater than him. He was used and played with, torn and pulled apart until there was nothing left. Leia knew deep down, her baby Ben was there, waiting. The same Ben who wanted to be a Jedi, who wanted to come with her to meetings and visit as many galaxies as he could. The biggest thing Leia missed was how much he needed her. Ben would never admit to how many times he crawled into her bed after a nightmare, or how he pretended to not miss her when she was away. As a teenager, she saw him pull away, trying to be tough, and hide how scared he was, or that he needed help. She could never forgive herself for ignoring how he practically begged for her in his eyes, as the cold, grimy hands of the Dark Side gripped him by the shoulders. But now, Leia felt like she could still save her son, from everything. She could prove to him how much she loved him. 

She loved how much Ben needed his mother as a child, and now he needed her more than ever. The general’s world went black as she collapsed to the forest floor.

~~~~

Rey played with the hem of Ben’s shirt, the fabric wet with sweat, dirt and blood. He smelled like earth, and Rey realized she had never been this close to know that he smelled so..intoxicating. Every breath she took was so soothing, she couldn’t help but lean in closer. Ben’s eyes never left her, and Rey’s cheeks reddened at how beautiful he made her feel. The comfort in his arms was new, yet felt so familiar that she never wanted to leave. His thumb circled her arm as he held her, and goosebumps scattered down her body.

“So..long..” Rey mumbled, annoyed by how long they had tried to cover it up, or deny just how powerful their feelings for each other really were. This..connection was created before either of them were even born. This attachment and need to be near each other, to be together finally had an explanation behind it. Rey believed this would be the one and only thing she could actually thank their grandparents for. The two mens intertwined fates had curled and twisted. Hate, deceit, years of pain and darkness came to an end with her and Ben, here and now. So yes, she could thank them, for giving her Ben. 

Ben hummed in agreement, “Who knew we could be so..” he trailed off.

“Dumb?” Rey stated.

“I was going to say stubborn!” Ben couldn’t help but laugh, before engulfing her lips once again. Every time Ben kissed her, Rey felt like a bad memory was wiped away. Bit by bit, she was losing more details about her life of Jakku. She already couldn’t remember some scars she got as a child, or the names of rival scavengers who occasionally tried to gang up on her. It felt like he was taking away her pain and grief, replacing it with passionate kisses and featherlight touches she hoped she would never forget. 

They held each other for a few more moments in sweet, silent bliss before Rey interrupted with the lingering statement.

“We have to go back.” 

Ben sighed, “Or we could go…just…leave.” 

There was nothing more Ben wanted to then to just be with Rey. They could anything or nothing and he would be happy. If she wanted to boss him around on the falcon? He would do it without hesitation. If she wanted to settle in the greenest galaxy and continue her training? He would make her stronger than him. 

But the resistance? He would not just be away from Rey, but behind bars, in chains, with every other soul on the planet, maybe the galaxy, wanting him dead. 

“Ben,” She sounded serious, though her voice was quiet. “We’ll figure something out.” She continued to play with his hair. The black, damp curls twisted in her finger and she wondered what he would look like with braids. 

“Leia will help us, reduce your sentence. Banishment to another planet is better than life imprisonment right?” 

Hearing his mother’s name made his heart sink. Could she even look him in the eye? Would she cry? Scream at him? Forgive him? Ben had hurt her so much, he would understand however she reacted. He undoubtedly deserved it. Even so, he wanted to see her, to hear her voice. He pulled Rey’s hand to his lips, giving a heartfelt kiss before nodding.

Her heart beat rapidly in hope. Ben was going home. He was going to see his mother, going to see Chewie…but he would also see the resistance, including Finn, Poe and Rose. Rey didn’t care. She would do anything to prove just how alive Ben Solo was, with the pieces of Kylo Ren dying long ago. 

“Just..no matter what happens, you’ll come back to me right?” He mumbled into her fingers, almost afraid to let go. 

Rey smiled so hard, she could almost laugh. She stood up and pulled him with her, her hands never letting go. Even as he towered over her, he looked worried, his eyes trailing up and down her body, making sure she was still alright, still alive. Rey pulled his attention to her warm eyes.

“Nothing could keep me away. Not even death.” She declared. Standing on her toes, Rey wrapped her arms around Ben as she pulled him to her lips. He felt comfort in her embrace, like she would truly never leave him. Even when he would eventually be pulled from her grasp and thrown in a cell, he knew she would fight for him as hard as she could. They would be separated, of course, by distance, guards, and maybe even Leia. But he could wait, he had been waiting for her his whole life anyway. So many had passed through his life in fleeting increments, he could hardly remember any faces, knowing they would all be there one moment, and gone the next. Rey was solid, sturdy, and there for him, with him. At the end of all this, Ben finally felt like he could belong somewhere, in her arms. 

The two pulled apart when the noise of battle erupted the from the skies and shook the ground beneath their feet. They ran back to the surface, forgetting the pain they had just endured, ready to take on the next adventure together. 

Rey burst through the stars in the X-wing, Ben seated behind her. They danced among the falling debris as it crashed back onto Exegol. He watched as Palpatines undead fleet fell, returning to their graves. Feeling his darkness fall with them, a small smile grew as he said goodbye to the shadows that had trapped him in. Feeling light as a feather, Ben settled into his seat. His eyelids were heavy, and he suddenly felt so tired that he just couldn’t stay awake. As he felt himself drift to sleep, he could vaguely hear the voices and shouts from Rey’s helmet comlink, screams of victory as everyone announced the First Order had officially fallen.