#and a lot of their argument from what i gathered by her recollection was him essentially going [citation needed] out loud

[hyunfilms]

blue side of the sky (lmh) | sixteen.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: waking up after 3 months with no recollection of your past, your friends do what they can to help you remember. except, they omit an important piece to the puzzle - afraid you would remember the heartbreak and hurt all over again.

—pairing: lee know x f. reader

—genre: (18+) exes to lovers, bestfriends to lovers au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 5.0k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, minho x oc have a big conversation and everything gets laid out, flashback to the hospital, flashback to that night, crying, yelling, arguments, brief mention of the accident but nothing too descriptive, this chapter is big sad and i'm truly sorry in advance 😞

You sit at your desk and look at the pictures hanging on the wall above, everything finally settling in your head and clicking for you.

You don't have pictures of Minho because of this falling out. 

Because of whatever happened.

You still don't know the details, and you still feel a bit afraid. But, after a few days, you feel like your head is clear enough to talk. You shift your attention back down to your phone, reading the unread texts from your friends. Your heart drops a bit when you see Jisung's texts, reassuring you that they never meant to hurt you. He apologizes time and time again for not pushing on this right away, and he promises he'll work to fix everything.

It's the next text that gets to you, making you let out a soft sigh as you slowly grab your things and mentally prepare for your day ahead:

jisung: i know minho hasn't texted you, but he's only doing that because he wants to respect your space until you're ready. i know he's worried about you, and he wants to fix this however he can. we all do, cielo.

When you gather the courage to step out of the house, you find your uncle watering his garden— picking at a few cherry tomatoes and blueberries. He tosses them into a silver mixing bowl, completely turning over his shoulder when he feels your presence behind him.

"You're home?"

"I'm just working from home for a bit."

"To watch me?" You tease with a playful tone. Your uncle chuckles and shakes his head, slowly setting aside the hose in his hand.

"Yes and no." He chuckles.

"Well, I'm glad you're home for a bit." You give him a small smile, holding your bag close to your side.

"Are you heading out? Pottery studio?" You shake your head and sit on a nearby chair.

"No. Not today."

"Mrs. Pak?" You shake your head again.

"I see her tomorrow. She closed up shop to attend a wedding." You subtly nibble on your bottom lip before following up. "I'm gonna see Jisung and them. To talk." He nods slowly and places his hands on his hips.

"Well." He sighs. "I'm glad you're going to. I just want you to know that they never meant to hurt you by doing this. It might be a lot for you, but take your time with it, okay? Your friends care a lot about you, and I know they will understand."

"Mm, yeah." Uncle Adrian watches as you comfortably look up into the sky, daydreaming while the clouds drift by. He remembers the night this happened, the night that Jisung came to him— basically pleading for him to just give you time with this, all of this.

That they would help you and take care of you.

He was hesitant. But, he let it happen.

☁︎ FLASHBACK | A NIGHT AT THE HOSPITAL

Jisung steps outside and takes a breath, letting the cold air seep into his bones. He digs his hands deep into his pockets, sitting on the closest bench right outside the main hospital entrance. It's been a few days since you woke up, but Jisung still hasn't been able to process everything that's been happening.

You don't remember him.

You keep him at a distance.

You want nothing to do with him.

And it hurts. He knows it's not your fault, but it hurts. It hurts to see you this way, it hurts to see how much everything has changed in the blink of an eye. 

He sits, quietly watching the people that pass him by— wondering what their stories are like, and what they could possibly be here for.  Who were they here for? What were their loved ones here for? Were they okay? Jisung could ask all the questions plaguing his head; anything, really, to keep his mind distracted.

"Hey." Jisung is pulled out of his own mind game when Uncle Adrian takes a seat next to him on the bench, also letting out a small sigh just as he gets comfortable. "You doing okay?"

"Uh, yeah." Jisung looks at him with a tiny, toothless smile. "Sorry. I just needed to get some air."

"That's okay."

"I'm trying to process everything, truthfully." Jisung rubs his hands together, staring ahead. "It's alot."

"I know."

"She doesn't remember me. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to move forward with her." His head falls, and Uncle Adrian can't help but feel his heart drop. He can only imagine what he's going through and how lost he might feel— Jisung was glued to your hip, and knew you better than anyone [even more than your family]. Having his bestfriend be his other half to suddenly having a severed connection; it must be awful, painful.

"Give her some time, she will get there."

"But, what if she doesn't?" He's afraid to ask because he would never doubt in your ability to overcome this, but he does have to fairly consider every path here. What if you don't? What if this just remains the same and you will continue to treat him differently? The last thing Jisung wants to do is force you into anything that will make you uncomfortable. 

"She will. She will take some time, but she will. I know she will." 

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do." Jisung digs his face into his hands when he feels the tears beginning to prick his lids. "I'll be there for her every step of the way, but I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't want me there. She's the only thing I've known, you know? She's my bestfriend and I feel so stupid for letting her leave." He mumbles but Uncle Adrian is able to catch on. Jisung finally looks up at him as the tears continue to stain his cheeks, eyes tired but soft. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault."

"It's not your fault, it's not Minho's fault. It's no one's fault. Unfortunately, this is just life. Things happen, and it isn't easy."

"Still." He says softly. "I'm sorry. We never meant to hurt her."

"I know."

"I'm going to do everything I can to help her get better."

"I'm sure she'd really appreciate your company either way." Jisung shifts his attention to the night sky for a moment, wondering how else he could really be of help to you. The last thing Jisung wants to do is hurt you, so he plans to avoid it. He plans to make sure that doesn't happen. 

"Uncle Adrian, I don't wanna hurt her more than I feel like I have. I really don't. I feel like I didn't do enough to protect her or anything, and I need to do better." Jisung returns his attention to him. "I don't think I should tell her about all of this right away."

"All of this?"

"Her and Minho. Their fight, the accident. Kat." Jisung sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "Everything about them. I just don't want to hurt her. Not when she's adjusting and getting used to the world again." Uncle Adrian sighs and slowly nods, his attention now on the two children being playful and walking alongside their mother. It almost reminds him of how sweet you and Jisung used to be, how attached, fun. He knows Jisung means well, and he knows he would do anything to keep you safe. But, he wasn't sure if this was the way to go.

"I understand. But, don't you think it would be easier for her to know earlier than later? I mean, I know you mean well. I'm just afraid that it'll be harder after she's gotten used to you guys again."

"No, I know. We'll tell her eventually, I don't plan to keep it from her for a long time. I do plan to tell her. I just—" Jisung sighs. "I just want her to feel okay right now. That's all." Uncle Adrian's hesitancy continues, he sees the way Jisung is pleading through his eyes and he knows he can trust Jisung to help you, take care of you.

Chan, Seungmin.

Even Minho, though he has his reservations with him after everything. He would never hold a grudge against him, and he knows he is only human. He hopes he will learn from this and do better with you overall.

They will take care of you.

"What about everyone else?"

"I'll tell them."

"Okay, Ji. But, please take care of her. I'm trusting you to take care of her. All of you. Don't wait too long."

☁︎ END

"Need a ride?" Your uncle chimes in again, pulling you away from your daydream.

"No." You smile. "I'll be okay. I think." You stand to your feet and shrug. "Should probably get going."

"Text or call me if you need me to pick you up."

"Okay. Love you!" You call out as you turn on your heel and start walking out.

"Love you too." Uncle Adrian continues to watch you until you walk out of the side gate, letting out a worried sigh as he tries to imagine how everything will go down. He knows you'll be hurt, there's no doubt about that. He knows you'll be hurt because you had just been settling with everything, everyone, Minho. He knows you'll be hurt because of the love you have for him, because of everything you two have been through.

He hopes the only answer from here on out is growth.

He knows you'll navigate this well, though. And he knows Minho will, too. As with any guardian, he was upset with Minho for hurting you. But, he too, doesn't hold grudges. And he knows how much Minho means to you — accident or not. He believes in the opportunity to grow, he believes in the opportunity to learn from mistakes.

It will all be okay. Even if it takes time.

He knows it will all be okay.

To give yourself a little more buffer time, you take the bus down to Jisung's place. It's a bit of a ride, quite the detour, but you figured it could help you gather yourself together before arriving to their place. You plug in your headphones and silently listen to the music for the entire ride over. No matter what, you promised yourself you would give yourself time to process everything alone. You promised yourself you'd put up your boundaries until you were ready, you promised yourself you would let things fall into place how they should.

But you also promised yourself you'll cry, you'll feel the sadness, anger. That crying was okay, that your feelings were valid— no matter how many times you'd go through the cycle.

Once you've reached your stop, you hop off the bus and head further down the street before turning the corner and spotting the house. All cars seem to be out front and it suddenly makes you feel anxious. Maybe you shouldn't have told Jisung you were gonna come and talk about everything. Maybe you needed another day—

No.

You needed to do this instead of pushing it off. It was time to rip the bandaid, time to deal with re-opened wounds.

You dust yourself off before knocking on the door a few times. You hear Jisung coming down the steps, doing a light jog to the door before swinging it open. 

"Cielo." He says softly with a smile. He welcomes you into his arms and you take the hug— admitting that you did miss your bestfriends. 

"Hey." He gives you a silent nod.

"You okay?"

"I think so."

"You sure?" You nod.

"Mhm." You look around the house. "Where's Minho?"

"He's out back." Jisung looks at you. You give Jisung a tiny smile of acknowledgment before walking out to the backyard. Minho is sitting on the outdoor couch, leaning onto his knees as he looked out into the backyard. He's pulled out of his thoughts when he sees you step beside him, giving him a small smile.

"Hey you." He reciprocates the smile.

"Hey." You say lowly as you take a seat next to him, legs brushing against each other and Minho continues to lean onto his knees.

"You doing okay?" He shifts in his position and keeps his eyes on you, patiently waiting for your response. 

"Mm, I'm not sure. What about you?" He shrugs.

"I'll be alright."

"So.. can we get to the bottom of this and what Kat meant? Can you tell me what happened between us?" He lets out a heavy sigh before nodding. You silently sit as Minho begins telling you everything— starting from when you guys met in high school and got close through Jisung. He talks about how he started really developing feelings for you during your junior year in high school, shyly chuckling when he rencounters how he blurted it out and told you at the mall. It starts off sweet, and it really becomes difficult to imagine Minho hurting you. When that part finally comes, you feel yourself crumble— bit by bit, piece by piece.

"And then came a time where I thought we had run our course." He looks at you, shaking his head as he bites his bottom lip. "I was wrong, clearly. But we had been arguing and fighting about so, so many things. The smallest of things that never used to matter, mattered. And I was so confused, we didn't feel like we were going anywhere except backward. For the longest time, I wasn't sure how to fix us. And it frustrated me to the point where I gave up trying to figure it out. I got tired. You seemed tired. It all went to shit really quickly." He returns his attention to the grass, the tree. "I got close to Kat and—" He shrugs. "Truthfully, I was infatuated by her. I caught some feelings for her when we were going through it. And I just.. ended up leaving without thinking much about us. I called you and asked if we could talk. I told you I felt like we ran our course at first, but then you knew something else was up. So, you asked and asked about Kat until you finally got it out of me."

"Oh." Is all you say, your head dropping a bit as the information settles. Yeah, you were not expecting Minho to hurt you this way. 

"After that, we broke up. Kat and I had a thing going on for a bit. Jisung was mad at me for a long time, rightfully so. I stupidly realized how much I couldn't be with her, no matter how hard she tried to keep me there. I tried to give it time, but I couldn't do it. She ended up being someone who was there for me,  but that's all it came to. Someone who filled the void, I guess." He shakes his head. "I ended things with her, we slowly worked on us over time and we got back together after you felt like things were okay between us and until you were ready."

"Hm." You hum, fiddling with the hem of your top. You're not really sure what else to say right now. But, it sucks. It sucks because this entire time, Minho has made you feel like you were his number one, his top priority; his main priority. Which, sure. That's probably how he feels after everything. However, there was once a point in life when you clearly weren't— when you were second choice, the next best option; a priority at convenience.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I could tell you all about how I was wrong and how shitty it was, because it was wrong and shitty of me. I'm still learning from it, but you also needed to hear everything as it happened. Without any bias whatsoever."

"Yeah. It does hurt, I'm not gonna lie. And I can't even imagine you being the one person who could hurt me like that, who could treat me like that after all those years. I just.." You sigh. "I opened myself up to you, I laid my feelings out. I gave myself to you. You were safe, like home. And I'm not sure what I feel anymore. That's probably what hurts the most now." The tears are stinging, pricking your eyes, as you stare at him. Minho feels like a dark, cloudy day, and it hurts to look at him. You can't even imagine all the things you felt in that moment, how Minho could easily dispose of you [and Kat] like nothing. "What happened that night of the accident?" You ask him, quickly wiping at your tears. He lets out a shaky breath and licks his lips, not responding to you right away. "What happened that night, Minho?" You repeat more sternly. Minho feels the tears pricking his bottom lids the more he stares at you, but he licks his lips and lets out a sigh— tackling this head on.

"We got into a big argument over Kat." His voice wavers. "You saw her name pop up on my phone and asked why Kat was still texting. I tried to tell you that we weren't really talking, she was mainly asking for advice on something. I—" He pauses before he rambles on. "We blew up on each other, and it didn't help that we had been disagreeing again recently. You pretty much told me you were done. Which, at the time, I didn't really understand why it was a big deal. I let you leave even though I knew I should've tried harder. I'm so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have done that knowing how you felt about her. I was stupid for it, and I'm sorry. I never meant to make it seem like I chose her, and I was so stupid for it." He repeats.

"Were you officially seeing her after I woke up? I remember seeing her in the café upset, and it's all starting to make sense now."

"We weren't officially together, but I had been seeing her."

"Since when?"

"You were in the hospital." You nod just as he pauses, letting out a shaky breath just as the tears continue to heavily flow. "B-but, I cut her off for good. I'm done with all of that—"

"It doesn't matter because you're still wrong." You pause to barely look at him. "You're still wrong because you did choose. You did choose her, Minho. You don't even realize how loud your actions speak." Before you know it, the tears are steadily streaming down your cheeks and your first reaction is to cry into your hands.

You cry, you cry, and you cry.

☁︎ FLASHBACK | NIGHT OF THE ACCIDENT

You sigh as you finally plop onto Minho's bed in his shirt, fresh out of the shower. You cross your legs and begin to scroll through your phone, with Minho walking in shortly afterwards— running a towel through his wet hair. He tosses his phone onto the bed near you before grabbing the remote to flip through the shows on Netflix, internally debating on what he could put on for the rest of the night to keep you two occupied.

"Anything you wanna watch?" Minho continues to flip through Netflix while he sits on the edge of the bed.

"Mm, nothing that I can think of. I'm down for whatever." You continue to scroll through your phone, eyes shifting to Minho's when it lights up. Of course, you can't help but pay a bit of attention especially after Minho and Kat had their fling. It still leaves a little sting when you think about it, but you've finally found it in your heart to forgive him, them. Though, it doesn't mean you'll forget.

You won't.

But, all that growth, all that slow healing, entirely goes out the window when you see her name pop up in his notifications again. You immediately see red, your palms instantly getting sweaty— anxiety bubbling in your gut. It doesn't matter what she says because you feel sick, and it doesn't help that you two hadn't been on the very best terms lately.

You want out.

"Baby, did you hear me?" Your eyes slowly flicker and meet his when he turns over his shoulder to look at you. Minho instantly catches onto the shift in your mood, the vibe in the room suddenly feeling cold, distant. His eyes dart to his phone when another text pops up, making you stand from your place on the bed and dash over to his closet where a few of your own clothing items sit. "Babe, what are you doing?"

"Don't talk to me." Minho quickly grabs his phone and glances at the texts, letting out a heavy 'fuck' when he realizes why you're acting the way you are.

"Hold on." He stands, gently grabbing your wrist just as you grab a change of clothes. "Wait, listen to me. Please. Y/N."

"No." You snatch your wrist out of his grip and brush past him, changing in another corner of his room to create some distance.

"I can explain—"

"Can you?!" Your tone slightly raises as you turn to him with a glare. "Kat is texting you and you think you can explain that?"

"Yeah, I can." Minho matches your tone, following by a low groan. "I swear, it's not what it looks like. She was just—"

"You sound really fucking pathetic right now."

"Just listen!"

"I'm leaving. I don't have time for this." You grab your things after throwing on your jacket, rushing out of his door and into the hallway.

"Y/N, don't jump to conclusions right now—"

"I don't care!" You turn, raising your voice even more. "You know how I feel about her, Minho! Why the fuck is she still coming up on your phone? After everything that we've been through, you think an explanation is supposed to make me feel better?"

"She's the one texting me because—" 

"You didn't think to block her? Cut her off completely?" You cut him off again and scoff. 

"Can you stop cutting me off? You're so fucking stubborn."

"I'm stubborn?" You chuckle. "Yeah, okay. I'm done with this. I'm not doing this again. You told me all this shit about trying and fixing—" You babble on, incredibly angry to the point where you just want Minho away from you, to the point where you don't want to be in a relationship where your anxiety is constantly bubbling because of her. 

You want out.

"What the hell is going on?" Jisung comes out of his room, confused over the two of you getting into an argument in the hallway.

"I need to get out of here."

"It's storming outside, Y/N."

"And?"

"Can you not be like that? It's not safe."

"Don't really care." Minho sighs again and runs his hands through his hair.

"Alright fine, whatever. Do you then." Minho throws his hands up in defeat.

"Of course." You scoff again as you slip into your shoes.

"Y/N, he's right. Can you just stay? It's raining pretty hard. You can stay in my room if you want, I'll sleep downstairs." Jisung adds.

"I don't think so."

"Why are you so angry?"

"Why don't you ask him, Ji? Maybe him and Kat can tell you more." Jisung gives Minho with a certain look before turning back to you.

"Let me at least drive you if you really wanna go home."

"It's fine, Uber is already outside." You throw your hood over your head, not sparing the two another look as you swing the door open. "I'll just text you tomorrow, pachi." You lowly respond before slamming the door shut.

"Dude, seriously?" Jisung turns to Minho. "What is she talking about?"

"Kat texted me but it really wasn't anything. She was just asking for help on something."

"Okay, but doesn't she have friends she can ask? Why is she still texting you?"

"I swear I never initiated it or texted her first. Y/N wouldn't let me explain. I wasn't going to respond." Jisung sighs heavily.

"Look, just give Y/N some time to breathe."

"Maybe I should just go to her house."

"No, give her the night. You two need to talk with clear heads. I'm sure it'll be fine once you explain to her, but for real. Do better and just delete her number. Block her. Anything is better than nothing." Jisung replies just as he pulls his phone out to try and text you. 

jisung: text when you get home pls. it's really bad out there. you should've just stayed.

You sigh at the text even though Jisung played no part in this. Truthfully, you're just mad at Minho and projecting it on everyone and everything right now. You're almost home, and the driver has been taking good care of you on the ride home so you don't find yourself being too worried in the storm. 

But, you do feel like you should have stayed.

You bring the phone back up to text Jisung back. You start typing away until the driver starts to obnoxiously honk his horn before swerving. 

"Sir, i-is everything—" You try to ask when he swerves, the oncoming headlights blinding you and cutting everything to black.

☁︎ END

"Y/N. I'm so sorry." Minho tries to reach out for you, but you shake off his grip and step back; not wanting to be in close proximity to him right now. "I should've told you sooner. I should've done so many things differently. I shouldn't have let you leave. I should've just been honest about Kat from the beginning." He repeats as he continues to race after you.

"That doesn't matter now. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I was afraid to. I was afraid of losing you again. But I know that was—"

"Minho." You cry with a slight whine, hands going up in defeat. "Did you think I was too weak? I could've handled this, you should've thought about me first." You point to yourself. "I wouldn't have thought of you any differently if you had just been honest with me from the beginning. Things might have played out differently, but you are still my bestfriend. We don't do things like that to each other." You look at him, then Jisung. "You should have told me. I should've had the chance to move on, on my own."

"Y/N, you just woke up. I didn't want to ruin it for you.. I-I-" Jisung stutters a bit as he feels the panic settling in. "I don't mean to add onto it, but I just wanted you to be okay, I didn't want too much to be thrown at you at once."

"Jisung, you don't get to make those decisions for me—"

"Y/N, please. This all happened because of me and stupidity, Jisung was just—" Minho tries to chime in.

"No." Your eyes shift back to Minho when you cut him off. "None of you get to make these decisions. None of you. You don't get to hide things from me. Not when they matter the most. Don't you get it? I've trusted so much of myself into the both of you— all of you— after the accident." The tears start flowing again and you feel like the ground is about to cave in below you; like you'll continue to fall into a black hole, continue to sink to the unknown depths of the ocean water. "I trusted you because I felt safe." Minho feels deja-vu hearing you say this because it's not the first time you've said it.

And it's not the first time he failed you.

"I'm sorry. It's not his fault. It's all because of me." Minho's eyes are red even though he's been trying to hide the fact that he's been crying. "I'm sorry that I couldn't keep you safe, and I'm sorry I put you through this. Y/N, if I could go back in time and change all of this, I would. Just know that I would do anything to fix this, no matter how much time and space you need." You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as the tears threaten to spill again.

"Maybe I really can't do this at all. I can't be here, around you two." You respond before rushing out the front door. Now it truly feels like deja vu because this reminds everyone about that night in particular. The only thing that's different is the fact that it isn't raining, and Jisung rushing after you once you've stepped out of the door.

"Y/N, no. No." He gently grabs you by the wrist. "You're my bestfriend and I'm not letting you slip away again." You look at Jisung and somehow, some of the anger dissipates. Part of you truly does understand why Jisung might have done this, but the rest of you wishes he could've given you a chance to learn and grow on your own. Who knows what you might've felt in the beginning? Maybe you would've been a bit upset, but you don't think you would have looked at Minho any differently. Or, maybe you would've, but you would've been able to act appropriately, figure things out on your own. At least [in a sense], you would've taken the proper time to grieve and say your peace to that part of your past— move on accordingly, however that looked like.

Instead of this. A mess.

Now, you don't even know what you feel for any of them.

For Minho.

Maybe it was a sign from the universe that you two didn't belong together after all, and that kinda fucking sucks. You have so much love for him that runs deep; you're not even sure where to begin processing this.

Minho was the last person you expected to hurt you like that.

"Pachi." You say close to a whisper. "Please let go of me. I need some time away from you. From all of you. Please let go of me and at least give me this." Jisung pauses before you feel his fingers unwrap from your wrist, head dropping as he lets out a defeated sigh.

"You know I'm only a text or call away if you need me." He says. "I really am sorry, cielo. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel this way." You don't really respond to him. Instead, you tug on your bag and run to the bus stop— one that can take you to the only safe place you know of right now.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end picks up after 2 rings, the tears still streaking your cheeks.

"Can you meet me?" Your voice trembles as you try to keep your sobs to a minimum in the back of the bus.

"Let me know where. I'm leaving right now."

⇢ 16.5 [cloudy days]: here

♡ taglist: @ppiri-bahng @jihanlovic @meloncremesoda @sweetlikecherry @asjkdk @hoes4lino @skzddicted @skzho @edgaralienpoe @harui-zen @bestleeknowstan @havenwithleeknow @septicrebel @heesdazed @borahae-reads @yoontaethings @pearbunny @bintificreads @lukeys-giggle @ajxreads @everglowdaisies @allaboutsan @endzii23 @leeknowsramen @heres-your-ramen2000 @morningstardada @mal-lunar-28 @downbadreading @lilysophie @feelikecinderella @urmomma0324 @ddazed-lhs @djeniryuu @melanctton @i8rsie @maru-matt @sleepyleeji @taerifin @nattisbored @jisunglyricist @m111nho @drhsthl @nixtape-foryou @arminseas @guiltycoco @syuuji @sulkygyu @cadihyo @reianagarcia @leeknowyah @smndjdufuehr @dprkbyn @xxibreinaxx @mxnsxngie @reiheis @mellowmentalitydragon @vixensss

#lee know series #lee know fanfiction #lee know fanfic #kpop fanfiction #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids series #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids x reader #lee know angst #lee know fluff #lee know smut #lee minho angst #lee minho fluff #lee minho smut #hyunfilms: blue side of the sky #kpop imagines #stray kids imagines

[rubberbandballqueen]

243 followers and following 243 people -- i've reached tumblr equilibrium

#ended up talking to my kouhai for three hours abt politics last night before we finally got back to our movie #she fell asleep for a whole half hour at almost four in the morning and i only noticed bc i was like 'are you seeing this shit sapph?' #abt the main character and the only woman in the movie falling in love and she didn't respond #so i paused and was like 'sapph? you there? you awake? can you hear me?' #and she wasn't so i changed screens that i was sharing to firefox and started watching videos by an anarchist i respect #she woke up towards the end like 'what's going on?' and i was like 'you fell asleep :D' #and she apologized like eight times and i'm like 'it's not a big deal you're mostly just lucky i noticed before the end' #and she thought she fell asleep for like two or three minutes but she was actually out for abt 45 minutes #anyway i respect the way she had a level discussion w/one of my old english teachers abt conservatism n stuff #n abt how he has white privilege and stuff bc i'd have just rocked back kicked my legs up onto the desk and been a little shit arguing #and like the most astonishing thing is how the english teacher is how he watched the debates and he just #does NOT remember trump NOT CONDEMNING WHITE SUPREMACY #and a lot of their argument from what i gathered by her recollection was him essentially going [citation needed] out loud #in the form of 'where'd ya hear that? social media? fake news kid' and he's right that you shouldn't get all your news from social media #but hearing abt the conversation and her lamenting abt how she needs to become more educated i was just like #'dude it's not your fault. you will learn. if i were in your shoes senior year i'd have been stumped in the same way.' #honestly the kind of rhetoric he was using to destroy her arguments were pretty familiar to me at this point #bc of the types of youtube channels i watch #still mad abt the 'jeff bezos buys the amazon trucks' vs. 'trump isn't in charge of paying his workers that's his managers' jobs' #so you can understand that the person in charge is reflected upon by his underlings' actions n decisions to defend capitalism #but not to condemn racism? sir? professor? what the fuck? #the worm speaks #anyway those are just some Thots

[wotanidiott]

maybe some draco angst with prompts 20, 17 & 15 (angst ones)? thank you 🤎

—————————————————

The Other Potter

summary - after a heated argument, draco finally confesses, or rather shows you, his hidden feelings

pairing - draco x fem reader, mentions of ron x fem reader

house - gryffindor

time period - 7th year

word count - 2.6k

warnings - very angsty, violence and a whole lot of swearing

a/n - ahhh this is my first official post skdjkssjskksjssk !!!! i hope it’s okay i made the reader harry’s sister? i just randomly came up with the storyline and thought it would fit well with your request ... anyways i hope yall like it <3

prompts

“are you going to cry now?”

“you’re scaring me”

“you’re nothing. you hear me? nothing”

"Y/N!" You heard the distant calling of your name amongst the chatter of the mass of students in the Great Hall. Cocking your head slightly forward from your seat at the Gryffindor table, you found the source of the noise as they barrelled into the entrance with a frantic look in their eyes.

"Neville, what's wrong?" You question him, as he flops onto Seamus Finnigan, seated adjacent from you. Seamus furrows his eyebrows at his friend's breathless state, then looking at you with the same confused expression on your face.

Neville audibly heaves for a good minute, catching his breath from the seemingly long run he underwent.

"Harry, he—" His sentence is interrupted by a lengthy inhale of oxygen.

You perk up at your brother's name. A plethora of questions surfacing in your mind. "Harry? What happened? What did he do now?" You stand up, placing both hands on the table as you peer over at the short-winded boy now laying flat on the floor, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“He ... he—”

"He what?" You persist.

"Courtyard. He's— A-And Malfoy. "

That's all you needed to snatch your bag off the floor and bolt for the courtyard.

You realised you had developed some sort of attraction to the infamous Slytherin Prince around the start of 5th year. Although, you had assumed it was just a phase. In what world could you ever be attracted to the one guy that makes you and your brother's lives a living hell?

So that's what you had concluded it was. Just a phase. One that had seemingly fizzled out once you started dating Ron and now call a silly mishap.

But that wasn't true at all, was it?

A series of scenarios flickered through your head as you begun to wonder just exactly what had happened for poor Neville to nearly faint from shortness of breath to fetch you.

It must've been urgent.

As you reach the Courtyard, a crowd has formed around the oak tree, most likely watching the interaction between the two boys. Your hand finds the wand tucked in the pocket of your robes, gripping it tightly as you push through the cluster of people to get to the front.

He sees you before you see him.

"Ahhh, how nice of you to join us. Now the other Potter's here, we can really have some fun" Malfoy announces. Sniggers erupt from the group of Slytherins behind him as you finally reach the centre of the circle.

Your eyebrows knit together in perplexity. Malfoy is stood in the middle, surrounded by his goons but there's no sight of Harry.

"Where is he?" You snap at Malfoy, hostility lacing your words as you look around the gathered students agitated.

"Y/N, I'm here!" Harry's voice calls from above. At first your skeptic but as you look up, there he was. Floating in mid-air. Along with Hermione and Ron.

"You bloody git. I'll get you back for this Malfoy. I swear—" Ron is cut off by the single wave of Blaise Zabini's wand, effectively silencing him.

"They look rather comfy up there, Potter. Don't you think? Care to join them?" Malfoy pulls his signature smirk, eyeing you up and down.

The hold on your wand tightens as you whip it out and point it at him, stepping forward. "Oh, I wouldn't if I were you. Unless you want a repeat of fourth year? Don't think we all forgot about you running stark naked around the corridors after your little ferret incident."

The crowd bursts into laughter at your witty comeback. Even Theodore Nott couldn't contain his laughter and eventually gave in when he saw the humiliated look gracing Malfoy's face.

Malfoy's gaze on you hardens, his upper lip curling in contempt as he too takes a step forward. If looks could kill, this would be it. He flicks his wand upwards, still maintaining eye contact and you hear the thud of 3 bodies on your left, followed by grunts from the hard contact as he relinquished the golden trio from his spell.

"Yeah? No wonder Weasel left you for the Mudblood. I would too considering what a bitch you are." He hisses with no remorse.

Gasps emit from the crowd at his harsh riposte.

As much as you'd hate to admit it, the comment hit a nerve. You remained civil with Hermione and Ron after having found out he cheated on you with her but the pain was still there. A guilty expression flickered over the couple's faces as they shot you an apologetic look.

"Awww, are you going to cry now?"

Your wand lowers slightly from the impact of Malfoy's insult and he takes this as an opportunity to cast a leg-locking curse.

However, he underestimated you. You managed to block the spell with a simple protection charm before quickly shouting "Expelliarmus!" Malfoy's wand jumped into your open hand in a fleet of a moment and he was left defenceless.

"I may be a bitch but at least I'm not a disappointment. It's obvious that your Father would rather have anyone— hell, he'd even have Harry rather than you as a son" you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him.

You felt a surge of satisfaction when an emotion that resembled hurt flashed across his face. But it went as soon as it came.

Something in Draco snapped. It was one thing to ridicule him in front of his peers but to bring up his Father? Now that was a whole different ball game. Before he could even stop himself, a barrage of insults came pouring out.

"Are you even hearing yourself? At least I have a Father. And I have a Mother. You? You have no one. Your parents are fucking dead, Potter. You don't even have any recollection of them—"

"MALFOY—"

"Shut the fuck up, Potter" He snaps at Harry then instantly directs his attention to you again. "And as for your sorry brother, I don't even see you two together anymore. He'd rather be around the two people that betrayed you—"

"Draco, mate, I think that's enoug—" Theo tugs on Malfoy's sleeve to get him to stop but he's persistent on speaking his mind.

"Piss off, Nott. A-Around the two people that betrayed you than— than a pathetic excuse for a witch. No one likes nor cares about you. You're nothing, Potter. You hear me? Nothing."

Malfoy appeared deranged in the way he lashed out at you, chest heaving from his rant and wild eyes that looked as if he could kill you right at that moment.

But you didn't care.

You were past the point of caring. You knew all the things he said to you were true, you sometimes even thought it. But it felt like a whole new revelation when he stated it aloud. In front of everyone. Soon the whole school would be talking about this.

But you didn't care.

It was then, Draco knew. He knew he messed up. He took in the wide eyes and gaping mouths of his peers around him. Harry's enraged expression. His friends' guilty body language; despite the fact they played no part in the insult.

Then his eyes swept over to you. He had knocked the life right out of you. You looked ... numb. With your faintly quivering lip and glassy eyes, he realised he had overstepped. Usually, you'd retaliate and he would too until you were both separated by your friends or the professors.

Though, this was different. This was overdoing it.

"R-Right." You managed to say flatly but the distress was clear in your words. The tears in your eyes were threatening to spill and you felt sick. Sick to the stomach about the fact everyone had heard and were most likely going to realise that about you too if they hadn't already.

You had to leave. Bolt out of there before you became a weeping mess.

You turned on your heel and made a beeline for the closest abandoned corridor you knew by heart. You couldn't go to your dorm because Harry would find you there and you wanted to be alone for the time being.

You ignored your brother's calls to come back aswell as Hermione's and a few other fellow Gryffindors you had befriended over the years.

Tear after tear came rolling down your flushed cheeks. Each one representing a time you had bottled up those feelings and refused to give into the 'let it all go' mechanism.

The past 2-3 years had been a blur of pain and heartbreak. Ron and Hermione's betrayal had hit you worse than you thought, combined with Harry's absence and the pitiful treatment your friends had been giving you.

"Potter, wait!"

You whirled round so fast at the all so familiar voice. Out of all people, you hadn't expected him to be the one to follow you.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy. Please— Just .... just please leave me alone" Your plead came out in splutters, unable to fully form a sentence with the state your mind was in.

You swivel back round and begin to continue further down the hallway but you don't get far as Malfoy calls after you again.

"Potter, stop."

"WHAT? WHAT IS IT? YOU WANT TO HUMILIATE ME EVEN MORE? IS THAT IT? WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT, MALFOY?" You turn, snapping at him.

Through the swelling anger and haze of your tears, you couldn't make out his expression as he stared intently at your face.

"I— I just wanted to—" Malfoy pauses for a second, struggling to find the right words. After a moment, he simply sighs, eyes travelling to your hand. "My wand. You have my wand." He points at your clenched fists that have both his and your wand in it's tight grip.

At that, you feel immensely stupid for lashing out at him. Huffing, you shove it in his hands and collapse against the vacant corridor's wall out of frustration.

You bury your head in your hands and replay the scene that had just occurred. It was humiliating. Utterly humiliating ... but it was the truth.

"Potter."

You started slightly at the sound of Malfoy's voice. You had expected him to go running back to his goons to ridicule your breakdown yet here he was.

"Wh-What are y-you still doing here?" You managed to reply in between hiccups as you kept your eyes wired shut to cease the ever flowing stream of tears. "Would h-have thought you'd ran off and celebrated this v-victory of yours with the other Slytherins."

"Potter, I—"

"No, you know what, I don't even care anymore." You get to your feet and push yourself off the wall. This would only satisfy Malfoy even further; watching every piece of the facade you managed to maintain, crack and fracture. He didn't deserve to see you like this.

As you swivel round, about to make a run to your dorm, you're pulled back by a harsh grip on your wrist. Cold rings digging into your skin as he spins you back round.

"Well, I do." Malfoy says in almost a whisper.

You shoot him a bemused look at his vague and random words.

He takes in your confused expression and further elaborates. "...Care. I mean." He says, flatly whilst looking around you as if he were avoiding your eyes.

You can't help the scoff that passes through your mouth as you yank your wrist free of his grasp. "You? Care? Yeah, right."

You go to turn again but he stops you once more. "Look, Potter—"

"Malfoy—"

"If you would just—"

"No—"

"Listen to me—"

"Why would—"

In a fleet of a moment, Malfoy shoves you against the wall. His large hand wrapped around the back of your head to mitigate the impact. And the other squeezing your hip to hold you in place.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, STOP INTERRUPTING ME. IS IT SO HARD TO SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND FUCKING LISTEN TO WHAT I HAVE TO SAY?"

You open your mouth to protest but you're quickly cut off by his hand leaving your head as it drives into the stone wall right next to your face.

"STOP IT. DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT LISTEN MEANS, POTTER?"

You jump at the abrupt act of violence combined with the volume and harshness of his words.

"LISTEN."

His fist rams into the wall again.

"TO."

And again.

"ME."

And again.

Your eyes screw shut as you let out a small whimper from the proximity of his punches between the wall and your face. Tears escaping and falling rapidly from the fear he had elicited out of you combined with the occurrence that had put you in this mess in the first place.

Malfoy is pulled out of his momentary ballistic rage at the sound of your small and helpless sounding whimper. He had yet again let his temper get the better of him. Culpability overcame him as he took in your cowering state and he instantly regretted spinning out of control.

"Potter." His voice, eyes and grip had softened drastically, completely contrasting his aura just seconds ago.

"Y-You're scaring me." You murmur.

Malfoy instantaneously takes a step back, releasing you from his hold.

Your eyes fly open and immediately register the immense shame etched on his face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't—" He pauses momentarily, sighing to himself before continuing. "I didn't mean to scare you. Or hurt you. I didn't mean the things I said earlier."

It was an understatement to say you were taken aback by Malfoy apologising. You didn't think he even knew how to.

"You're sorry?" You reply, dubiously.

"Yes. I am."

You squint your eyes at him in suspicion, "No, you're not. Why would you be sorry? You don't even care—"

"Fuck's sake, not again." He cuts you off, shaking his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose out of irritation.

You don't understand. What's his angle? Surely, he doesn't really care. Right?

"What? You don't. Or else you wouldn't have—" You attempt to explain your point of view but he interrupts you once more.

"FUCKING HELL, POTTER. I AM SORRY, OKAY? IS IT SO HARD FOR YOU TO BELIEVE THAT I'M APOLOGISING FOR HURTING YOUR FEELINGS?"

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you stare at each other.

"Yes." You breathe. "I-I just don't understand why you would—"

Before you could even process what was happening, Malfoy has you pinned to the wall anew but this time with his lips pressed against yours.

You undergo a mixture of all sorts of emotions in the time span of a second. Shock, confusion, disbelief and most of all a tiny spark of exuberance.

He gives you little time to melt into the kiss before he's pulling away already and holding your face in his hands.

You've never been this close to Malfoy before, so needless to say you wouldn't have believed anyone if they said Malfoy actually had the most entrancing eyes. Like a storm brewing behind grey clouds, you thought.

"Does that answer your question?" He asks, a smirk creeping up his face.

You can't help the little smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you attempt to mirror his smirk. "Partly, yes."

Without a second thought, you smash your lips against his, hands travelling to his hair as you lightly tug on the ends.

He slightly moans at this and mumbles in between kisses, "You don't know how long I've been wanting to do this."

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

You both suddenly pull away from each other as you meet Harry's eyes from the end of the hallway.

Shit.

———————————————————————

masterlist

if you wanna go check out more of my work

taglist

add yourself :))

#draco smut #smutty #harry potter smut #draco angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #harry potter imagine #harry potter #draco imagine #draco x y/n #draco x reader #draco malfoy #hp fanfic #hp fandom #fanfic

[piratewithvigor]

Stars

Chapter 4: 2013

In which our hero goes camping again

“Come on, we should be there soon, shouldn’t we?”

“Can’t you stop griping and just enjoy the walk?”

“How can I? You spent the three months before we moved here telling me about how dangerous this place is. Quizzing me on how to defend myself against 400 different species.”

“Aww, are you scared?”

“No!”

Kane couldn’t help but laugh. Daniel was terrified out of his wits. It was almost painfully obvious. Every time he thought Kane couldn’t see him, his eyes kept darting around the trees surrounding them. Inspecting the trees for things that might want to kill them. Which was fairly useless; everything in the Valley wanted to kill them, but nothing would dare. They knew they were under protection of the Undertaker and the creatures of the Valley respected such protection.

Even still, it just took one rogue beast to end both of them and turn them into dinner. They wouldn’t hesitate if they were hungry; the only vegan in the Valley was Daniel.

He took Daniel’s hand gently, doing his best to soothe his husband. Having had hardly any touches that weren’t meant to hurt him for decades, sometimes the gentler touches took Kane a little longer to get used to. Daniel was still the only one he could bear to touch for an extended length of time and certainly the only one he could bring himself to initiate such a touch with.

The gesture didn’t go unnoticed. Daniel exhaled softly as he squeezed a little.

He’d been excited for this trip. Hiking, camping; they were some of his favorite hobbies outside the ring. It was usually like pulling teeth to get Kane to want to come along. But he’d suggested this trip. The trip he used to take with his family on the first weekend of autumn. Spending the night in the woods of the Valley together, bonding. Kane didn’t talk about his family from before the fire too often, so Daniel was certainly not going to question why he brought it up then. Of course, at the time, the excitement had overridden the recollection that camping in the Valley was about equally dangerous as camping on a cliff face in the Grand Canyon. Except the danger was only held at bay by an unspoken supernatural promise.

So many questions from the Valley were better left unasked and just accepted.

“You’re gonna like it,” Kane promised. “It’s pretty. A lot of really soft grass.”

“I trust you.” Daniel wasn’t going to add that for as long as he’d lived there, he’d hardly seen any living grass, let alone really soft grass. Kane was excited, so he was going to keep his worries at bay. “You’re sure you remember the way, right?”

“Spent a night here every year for six years. I could find the clearing in my sleep.”

“Maybe, but that was thirty years ago.”

“Are you calling me old?”

“A little.”

“Take it back, or no s’mores for you.”

“That’s blackmail!”

“That’s life.”

“Okay, okay, I take it back.”

“Not good enough.”

Daniel exhaled in exasperation. “I’m sorry I called you old.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I called you a goat.”

“You didn’t call me a goat.”

“I know. Now I’ve got one apology saved up for next time I do,” Kane grinned and avoided Daniel attempting a swat to the back of his head.

“You’re damn lucky you’re cute.”

“I know.”

Kane wasn’t exactly sure how he’d tricked Daniel into liking him. When they first met, they had some of the most awful fights Kane had ever been a part of. Both physically and emotionally. He hated Daniel at first. They would scream at each other until Kane was as hoarse as he’d been when he was re-learning how to talk. They were the tag team champions together and a formidable duo, but nothing like any other tag team Kane had been a part of. Everything felt wrong and off working with Daniel and it wasn’t because he felt like beating him more than their opponents. They just… had nothing in common. Except that they were both fueled with enough rage to be sent to anger management therapy together.

Kane had been gritting his teeth and hardly keeping himself from throwing Daniel through a wall every week. Until one week. The week of the trust falls.

“Daniel, just fall backwards, and Kane will catch you.”

“I will?”

He didn’t want to catch Daniel. Daniel didn’t want to be caught by Kane. Dr. Shelby was insistent. If they did this exercise, they might have a real breakthrough. Breakthroughs meant they could stop coming to these damn therapy sessions. Whether it was the promise of a breakthrough or the threat of having to do the exercise the next week, Kane wasn’t sure, but Daniel turned around.

“Kane, I trust you.”

He’d been stunned silent for a moment. Almost forgot to catch Daniel. But he didn’t. He caught Daniel’s shoulders easily and kept him from hitting the deceptively hard floor. The weight of a man who trusted him so completely so quickly was in his hands. He’d shoved Daniel upright to avoid letting him know his hands were shaking from getting so quickly overwhelmed with emotion. Dr. Shelby had been so proud of them. Moved them right on to the next phase of the exercise: working together. They were both instructed to catch some loser from the group. Even though they both put out their arms to catch him, he hit the floor hard as they pulled their arms back.

“Did you know that I wasn’t going to catch him?” Daniel had asked.

“Did you know that I wasn’t going to catch him?” Kane replied. A quiet smile had spread over Daniel’s lips.

“I think I finally understand you, Kane.”

They’d kissed for the first time that night. Still fought like cats and dogs, but in moments alone in the hotel rooms, they kissed. Sometimes they went further, sometimes they didn’t.

“We’re almost there,” Kane broke the silence, pointing with the hand that wasn’t interwoven with Daniel’s.

“Where? I don’t see any grass anywhe- holy shit…” The sight of the little clearing filled with lush, green grass seemed to take Daniel’s breath away.

“What do you think? Worth the hike?”

Daniel didn’t answer. Almost like he was dumbfounded such a soft place could exist within the harshness of the Valley.

“Daniel?”

“Very worth it.”

“You good setting up the tent while I gather the firewood?”

“Kane, I fucking swear, if you leave me alone in these woods, I will shit in your sleeping bag.”

One argument about proper firewood, one argument about tent raising techniques and three arguments about setting fires later, both of them were lying in the grass, watching the smoke from the dying fire rise into the night air.

“You shouldn’t be able to start a fire by hugging a log,” Daniel mumbled, snuggling up to Kane’s chest.

“I know.”

“How do you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s weird.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“Sure. To what?”

“Dunno. Know any good camping stories?”

“Well, there was one time I went camping with AJ and she needed to pee, but the bush under her was poison ivy and-”

“A different story!” Kane groaned, shuddering at the idea. Either because he didn’t want to know what happened with the poison ivy or because he didn’t want to know anything more about AJ than he already did. She was responsible for sending Daniel to anger management, so Kane owed her for that, but he didn’t want to know anything else.

“Okay, there was a time my family had a reunion at a campground and my aunt chopped up apples and tossed them in apple pie spices, then wrapped them in tin foil and stuck them in the coals of the campfire. Smoky apple pie filling.”

“Sounds tasty.”

“Should’ve told that story before so we could have done the same.”

“Maybe next time.”

He could promise a next time. He could swear that a year from then, he would still love Daniel. They would still be together. They could lie down in the grass and look up at the stars. They could marvel at how big the universe was and how miraculous it was that they found each other.

Far up in the night sky, a red star and one a little bigger seemed a little closer together.

#Stars #Kane #Daniel Bryan #Writing

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Nineteen

Previous Chapter Here

Warnings: Language. Frustrations.

Notes: I hope this reads OK and that you enjoy it. My ability to check spellings and grammar has waned slightly so do let me know if there’s some glaringly obvious issues with syntax. 

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

Chapter Nineteen

Chris reluctantly left the house after Scott had gathered their things. Scott had a quiet word with his mother just outside the front door but it wasn’t fully closed so Chris had heard most of what sounded like Scott denying he knew anything had been going on. The words “Godforsaken” and “mess” also made brief appearances. A few swearwords here and there from his own mother no less, someone who would go to church every day for a year if she even deigned to use the extremely bad language in front of her children. 

He felt like a scolded child standing there in the hallway, coat hanging limply from one hand, blatantly and frustratingly sober. Not that being drunk would have made any of this any better. He felt like a child that had to be collected from school after getting into a fight with a teammate. Oh, the disappointed looks he had seen whilst growing up. Sitting in the backseat of the car, blocking out the noise as his Dad tried to keep his eyes on the road ahead while lecturing Chris that one day he would have to grow up. 

He wished he could go back there. That was far easier by comparison. Performing open-heart surgery was far easier by comparison. Probably, he figured. 

He glanced towards the dining room. The door was shut but he knew she was mere feet away from him. He couldn’t hear anything. Didn’t know if anything was being said or if anyone was crying or if someone was hugging someone else but he figured not. You could expect to hear Shanna’s voice from anywhere in the house so the quiet he was listening to now was a huge giveaway. It was also alarming that Shanna was as quiet as she was. He had left them both sat at the table. Just…paused. 

He reached his own home an hour or so later. Scott had insisted on coming with Chris even though he had asked the driver to divert via Scott’s road, about fifteen minutes out of the way. They’d sat in the backseat in silence, Scott comfortable, almost smug, in the knowledge that Chris wasn’t about to say anything incriminating lest the driver be listening in on their conversation and it end up online in the morning. So, after what felt like an eternity had passed by, Chris grudgingly asked the driver to carry on to his own address. 

He stared out of the window the entire ride home. He barely moved. Every few minutes Scott would subtly lean in just to check he was still breathing. Chris shoved a couple of hundred-dollar bills at the driver and told him to keep it - probably the only worthwhile thing he had done that week, he thought. Scott trailed behind him as they ascended the wide, concrete stairwell, the only light coming from the security light glowing above Chris’ front door. 

“Just…don’t say a fuckin’ word, OK?” Chris pressed his brother, reaching inside the fridge for the last beer he knew was hiding in the back. 

Scott rested his hands on his hips as he watched his brother flip the lid off his beer and launch it at the wall tiles above the sink. Chris took a long swig before slamming the bottle down on the counter and leaned on his arms. 

“I’m not gonna lecture you, man.” Scott flopped down on the sofa nearest to him. “I promise. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you did anything wrong per se but you know as well as I do that you did not handle that well tonight, pal. No way did Shanna deserve that. None of us deserved to hear it like that.” 

Chris tilted his head ever so slightly in Scott’s direction but he remained stoically quiet. 

“Maybe give it a day or two and try to speak to her.” Scott continued, as though he was reading his mind. And because he was adept at reading his brother’s mind… “I’m talking about Sarah by the way. I don’t know what Shanna will say or do. This weekend sure is gonna be fuuun.” 

Chris looked through the window in front of him, the black night allowing him to catch a clear reflection of his brother picking at the corners of a cushion where he was sat. If he focussed on that long enough, he’d start to feel regret and he couldn’t face that right now. 

“Sarah didn’t even look at me.” He finally spoke, softly and with resignation in his tone. “I thought she might say something but…guess I was wrong.” 

“Her and Shan are tight.” Scott started. “You don’t need me to tell you that. And that’s not to say that you don’t mean anything to her because obviously you do but just that they have been friends for years now. A fling isn’t gonna get in the way of that.” 

“It wasn’t a fling.” 

“OK, but in the grand scheme of things, of time, it was. A few weeks is nothing to nearly a third of a life. They live together, they’re in each other’s pockets 24/7. They know everything about each other. They share the same clothes even.” Scott was hit with a realisation. “They’re family.” 

“I’ve known Sarah just as long.” Chris objected. 

“Right, but I don’t think that’s entirely comparable, though, is it?” Scott was treading carefully. “I mean, we have all known Sarah a long time. But that’s because of Shanna. They’re kind of a package thing.” 

Chris ground his teeth together as he considered the point. Even from this distance and in the reflection of the glass, Scott could see his jaw clench ever so slightly. 

He watched Chris finish what was left of his beer before finally turning around and leaning back against the counter. Building up the courage to continue probing him for answers, Scott repositioned himself on the sofa. “So, Sarah ended it?” 

Chris nodded slowly. “Yeh. A couple of times.” 

“’Cos of Shanna?” 

“Pretty much. Said she was feeling guilty and confused about things. That it was wrong of us to let things get that far.” 

“How did you guys…? I mean, when did you…?” 

“My birthday.” 

Vague memories started fighting for attention in Scott’s mind. He loosely recalled Chris being a little off but a hazy mix of noise, a phone argument with Zach, and copious amounts of alcohol kind of killed his full recollection of that night, at least beyond the separate moments now appearing in his head. 

“But you didn’t leave the party, did you?” 

Chris nodded slowly. He could see Scott trying to piece things together like he was solving a puzzle and was feeling somewhat relieved at getting to talk openly about what had happened. He still didn’t feel willing to give up much beyond what was necessary but he couldn’t deny he was beginning to feel a little lighter. He wasn’t sure if Sarah would appreciate things being made so public but then again, that boat had long since sailed. 

“Sarah never showed, though, did she? I know Shanna tried to call her a couple of times, before she crashed and burned. So, you went to their apartment? Did she call you or something?” 

“No.” Chris shook his head. “I was wound up about a couple of things that night and she said she was gonna come but she didn’t show and…I don’t know. I guess it was the last straw. I was just tired of a lot of things and needed to get out of there. You saw the place. It wasn’t home home.” 

“And you slipped out when no one was looking?” 

Chris nodded again. Much like Scott, memories came flooding back to him. Unhelpful memories. Memories of the hallway and of her in her black dress. Memories of the smell of her hair that he couldn’t forget for days afterwards.

“Look,” He ambled into the lounge where Scott was sat and perched on the end of the armchair. “We tried to ignore it. Believe me, she was pretty sure it wasn’t something we should be doing again. But-” 

“-But you didn’t wanna end it?” 

He shook his head equally as slowly before biting the inside of his cheek. His eyes had glazed over slightly and Scott didn’t know if that was because of the beer or because he was reliving sad memories he’d rather forget. 

“Are you guys…? Do you have feelings for each other?” 

“I don’t know if ‘feelings’ is the right word.” Chris felt his shoulders slump a little. “I think we’ve gone a little beyond that but I’m not exactly sure what that is. We never really talked about it.” 

Scott knew all too well what Chris could be like when he was pining for someone. He’d witnessed pretty much every romantic cliché while they were growing up; girls he liked that didn’t like him back; girls that liked him back that he ended up growing bored of; girls his friends tried to set him up with just as his career was taking off. He seemed to develop a bit of a thicker skin when he reached L.A. soon afterwards. It was almost like he was protecting himself or guarding himself from the fake-ness he’d heard about. Matt had been quite instrumental in that regard. The recent issues with Jenny told Scott that perhaps there were a few skeletons in his closet people remained unaware of. 

Still, being in the presence of him as he was right now was, dare he say it, kind of sweet. Clearly, he hadn’t cut himself off completely from love. The maudlin quality he was exhibiting was almost a relief were it not for him looking as drained as he did. Chris didn’t feel things lightly. There was clearly something serious going on with him. Maybe with them both. He wondered what Sarah was currently doing and briefly contemplated sending her a message to check-in, make sure she was OK. Then, all of a sudden, and he didn’t exactly know where this had come from, a realisation hit. 

 “Do you think that, whatever it was between you, was because in some small part it felt a little bit…wrong?” 

 Chris looked at him, his brow furrowing as he tried to work out Scott’s angle. “What?” 

 “Because it was, y’know, a risk getting involved with each other. Do you think that was the initial attraction?” 

 “No!” Chris caught the scepticism in Scott’s face from even this distance. “It wasn’t, OK? That’s ridiculous. It wasn’t like that at all.” 

 “I’m just asking. I’m just trying to understand is all. I want to help.” 

 “Then listen to what I am saying.” 

 “But you’re not saying anything. That’s why I am having to ask these ridiculous questions.” Scott realised he was close to shouting and that was likely to shut his brother off in self-defence. 

 Chris knew his brother was right but didn’t want to admit it to his face just yet. “Why would the risk be an attraction?” 

 Scott considered biting his tongue and playing dumb but he felt like it needed to be explicitly asked and then it was over and done with. Out in the open. “Just that this isn’t the first time you’ve enjoyed something you know you shouldn’t. Sort of. I mean, look at Jenny. And that sound designer from New York, from that play you did. She had a boyfriend and a mortgage and, like, five cats and look what happened there. You have to admit, you have some form here.” 

 Chris’ face was registering blank and Scott wasn’t sure if he was about to have a knife thrown at his head. Might as well carry on, then. “Sometimes, it can seem like you actively look for the challenge, for the rush of being caught out doing something not Captain America-y.” 

 “That’s bullshit.” 

 “Is it, though? Can you say whole-heartedly that this thing with Sarah wasn’t about a rush of doing something you knew deep down wasn’t the best idea?” 

 “Yes.” 

 “How?” 

 “Because…” 

 “That’s not an answer.” 

 “It’s-” Chris paused again, unsure of how to unscramble the words and the memories now running through his mind. Thoughts of them together here, the elation he felt when she replied to a text message and when she tried to flirt with him, badly. How cute she looked in her scrubs. He remembered making her laugh so hard in the hotel room in New York that she snorted juice through her nose and slammed the bathroom door shut so he couldn’t see how “gross” she looked. “-it’s different. This is different now. It just is. I’m not asking you to understand this, I just need you to be on my side for a bit. At least until things calm down and we can figure it all out.” 

 “We as in…?” Scott pursed his lips. “I hate to be the one to break it to you but I think you might have to wait some time for that. Sarah’s gonna be fully focussed on Shanna, her best friend, and you’re just gonna have to deal with being second best.” 

 “She’ll talk to me, I’m sure.” 

 “I dunno, man…” 

 “Why? Why do you say that?” Chris asked almost accusing Scott of knowing more than he did, which was ironic. 

 “Well…has she messaged you?” 

 “No, obviously. ‘Cos it’s all…” He held his hands up in front of him before resigning them back down by his sides. “Then I guess I’ll just have to wait.” 

 * 

 Needless to say, Sarah didn’t stay the night in Lisa’s home either. 

 She waited until she was sure Chris had left before building up some courage to get up and run. It was cowardly, yes, but nothing about what had taken place this evening – or for the past couple of months – was anything but cowardly, so… why break the habit of a lifetime? 

 Shanna had already left the dining room. She looked and felt tired and needed a lie-down. Carly and Michael had escaped upstairs, too, most probably just to get out of the way. Sarah knew it would be futile to try and talk to Shanna now anyway. If she was in her position, she wouldn’t want to talk either. Too much alcohol, too much food, too much…distress. It would only be asking for more trouble at this point. 

 Lisa was tidying away some dishes when Sarah emerged behind her in the kitchen, ready to go. 

 “I have an Uber coming in a few minutes so I’ll get out of your hair.” She informed her. Lisa wiped her hands dry on the dish towel. 

 “How are you feeling, love?” She offered. Sarah could have burst into tears at the simple gesture. 

 “Um, well, not great.” She started, hearing her voice trembling slightly. “But that’s my own fault. For what it’s worth, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry to you and I know this is a mess and has probably ruined your whole birthday now.” 

 Lisa smiled at her, somewhat sympathetically. “Don’t worry about that. I only enjoy it because it feels like one of only a few times in a year that we are all together and focussed on something fun.” 

 “You didn’t deserve this, Lisa.” 

 “That’s not your fault, sweetheart. It’s the fault of that boy.” She sounded like she was making a jovial comment to lighten the mood but it only served to make Sarah feel worse. Even after everything, Lisa was still trying to make sure she was feeling OK. After everything she had done. “He’s frustrating. He has always suffered from having too much energy, too many thoughts running around his mind at the same time. You tell him one thing and he wants to do something else.” 

 That sounded familiar. 

 “You know, when he was a child, I thought he had ADD?” Lisa looked to the ceiling to try and remember. “They did a test in school but it didn’t turn into anything. I often think it’s why I’m so glad he does what he does. It’s probably a good outlet for him. Helps him work through that energy and anxiety. But I’m sure you know this already. You know what he can be like.” 

 Lisa regarded Sarah for a second. Sarah’s eyes were still wet from crying a little. That, and tiredness. 

 “You know, I had a feeling something wasn’t…normal. He seemed different lately. A little calmer, I think? More still.” Lisa started. “A few weeks ago, he asked me about flowers. He’s never bought flowers for people before except if he was apologising for something but these weren’t those kinds of flowers. He said he wanted something bright and colourful. I was kinda taken aback to be honest.” 

 Sarah looked confused. Had Chris told her something? 

 “Then I saw you got flowers. Bright, colourful, summery flowers…” She smiled at the memory. “I shoulda known then, I guess.” 

 “Lisa, I-” 

 “-Oh no, don’t worry, my darling. I just couldn’t quite fit the pieces together at the time.” She smiled again, tilting her head to one side. “And you know he’s never been one for oversharing the intricacies of his relationships at the best of times. That ship sailed a long time ago for me.” 

 Sarah nodded, looking down at her fingers poking out from the coat cuffs. 

 “But he always makes an effort when it counts.” She encouraged Sarah to look at her again. “He has his ways of letting people know he cares. You should remember that, honey.” 

 Sarah considered her words for a moment. She heard a door close upstairs, snapping her out of the relative peace they were now in. 

 “What should I do about…Shan?” 

 “Leave her for a while. Leave her to me.” Lisa spoke with kindness, some kind of confidence. Sarah was less sure but she knew she couldn’t face her right now. Shanna wouldn’t want to do anything now. It was mutually beneficial. 

 * 

 She made it home without crying in the back of the cab. 

She shut the front door and let out the longest breath she could manage, one she’d been holding in for some time it felt like. There was just a numbness now. A feeling like it wasn’t altogether real, like she could wake up at any minute and find out it was that morning all over again and she’d have to hurry Shanna out of the bathroom. 

 The flat was eerily quiet, itself unaware of the drama. She moved to close the curtains in the living room to block out the street lights. There was a headache looming she wasn’t in the mood for. She sat on the end of the sofa and rested her head in her hands. 

 Somewhere in her coat, her phone buzzed. Gingerly taking the phone from her pocket, she was relieved when she saw it was Audrey messaging her about some paperwork she’d cleared up for the both of them. Hope you’re having a lovely break! xx, Audrey ended the message with. 

 Sarah 10.15pm: All good, thanks hun x 

 A blatant lie but what else could she do in the circumstances? 

She turned to lie down on the sofa and stared at the wall ahead of her. 

 She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep until the light starting coming through the curtains. Noticing the clock flash on the TV screen told her she’d been out for six hours more or less. Useless sleep, though. Not the refreshing kind. The headache was back with a vengeance so she shuffled into the bathroom in an effort to find something to take the edge off. 

 No messages appeared on her phone yet. She was both thankful and surprised and then upset when she realised Shanna hadn’t attempted to communicate during the night. She wasn’t realistically expecting anything but it would have been a positive sign. Right now, she’d take anything she could get her hands on even if it wasn’t pleasant. 

 The sound of the doorbell ringing abruptly stung the backs of her eyes. She downed the water in the glass and listened to it ring again just as she shuffled towards their front door. 

A third time ringing just as she reached for the doorknob and was faced with a rather sheepish-looking Chris. He had two large coffee cups in one hand and what looked like some kind of pastry box in the other. 

For some insane reason, she was suddenly aware of the state she probably looked. She hadn’t removed the make-up from her eyes and her mascara wasn’t the best quality and was probably now working its way down her cheeks. Audrey would be rolling her eyes if she could see her now. 

 He half-smiled but didn’t say anything. He brushed past her and placed the box down on the kitchen counter. She felt like she could appreciate something sweet and sugary and looked inside only to find pretty much every pastry she could imagine. Giving him a puzzled look, he shrugged it off. 

 “I didn’t know which one you wanted so I got everything they had.” 

 Oh. Okay then. 

 “The coffee has a lot of sugar in it by the way. I figured you’d prefer it sweet.” 

 She nodded and turned back to choose something. The apricot glaze looked particularly appealing. She took a bite, taking about half of it in one go and froze as she saw him smirk at her. Yet again, the image of what she must look like appeared in her mind. Dishevelled, smudged, kind of ugly. He, in turn, looked pretty amazing. There was a tiny amount of gel in his hair but otherwise he’d kept it a little fluffy on top. His skin looked remarkably refreshed and he smelled like the shower she so desperately needed. She was also getting the full effect of his recent training schedule as he leaned casually against the doorframe, one leg bent at the knee to rest his foot on the wall behind him. 

 How? 

 How was that possible? 

 Why was he not looking as rough as she felt? 

 “You sleep any?” He finally asked, his voice a little croaky. 

 Sarah shook her head so slowly he could have missed it. She nervously wiped the pastry flakes from her fingers with one of the napkins she found at the bottom of the box. 

 “Yeh, me neither.” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to call you but Scott hid my phone.” 

 He didn’t intend for that to be funny but she enjoyed the brief respite that image gave her nonetheless. And the foul language that probably left Chris’ mouth. Poor Scott. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t to be honest.” 

 She took a sip of the coffee and marvelled at how delicious it tasted. The heat entering her body was welcomed. Her headache was still there but the syrupy, sugary caffeine was very much appreciated. She could sense him looking at her intently. He couldn’t have expected any other response. 

 “I didn’t realise you’d left Mom’s.” It was almost a question but she didn’t respond. “I thought you would have stayed and spoke to Shanna or something.” 

 “I think I am the last person she wants to speak to right now.” 

 “Nah, I’m pretty sure that’s me.” 

 He hated how sad she looked. He hated that she looked so beat and gray and fragile. He was so used to seeing her with clear skin and a spark in her eyes, with some kind of energy bristling beneath the surface. He hated that he was most probably – no, definitely – the cause for this despondency. 

 He ambled to the table, dragging a chair out from underneath it and sitting down. He clasped his hands in front of him and leaned forward. He always seemed to have a habit of getting into her eyeline when she was so obviously trying to avoid looking at him and it annoyed her. Times when she was trying to hide her real thoughts and feelings. 

 “I don’t know what to say to you.” He finally spoke. “’cept that I’m just sorry. I’m so sorry, Sarah. I can’t say I am sorry for saying what I said but I know I am sorry about the way I said it, and for the pain it’s caused.” 

 “It’s a bit too late for that now.” 

 He looked down at where his hands connected. “I don’t really know what I was thinking. I saw how she was behaving and it just got to me. It annoyed me how she just kind of takes advantage of you and-” 

 Sarah shook her head defensively. “You’re making the wrong assumption.” 

 “I don’t think I am.” He shook his head back at her. “And if you ask the others, I think they’d agree with me.” 

 “You’re acting like this is all her fault and that’s not fair on her.” She pressed, the caffeine clearly kicking in a little more and making her feel like she was finally waking up, figuratively as well as physically. “She’s not gatekeeping me, Chris, and you really need to stop thinking that she is. You’re just putting the blame on her because you can’t seem to admit that we really shouldn’t have let things get as far as they did. It was stupid of us.” 

 “That’s bullshit.” 

 “Is it?” She stared him out for a second. 

He didn’t blink. “Yes.” 

 “You seem very sure of yourself.”

“Hmm. Irritating, isn’t it?” He tilted his head to the side, a smirk crossing his soft features. Sarah rolled her eyes at him and turned around to regard the pastries again. In for a penny and all that. 

 “Look, I understand how you’re feeling-” 

 “-No, you really don’t-” 

 “-I do because I know the same people and with all due respect I’ve known them a hell of a lot longer than you have.” He countered. “So, believe me, I get it.” 

 She fell quiet and took a bite from a star-shaped cronut-type thing before regretting her decision. Chris, noticing the look of disgust on her face, laughed.

 “I was keeping that one for me. It’s got a custard cream in the middle.” 

 Sarah paused her chewing and gave him an apologetic look of sorts. She watched as he slowly got up from the table and stalked towards her, taking the cronut from her hand and taking a big bite. He rolled his eyes in pleasure at the sweetness. It was probably the first “nice” thing he’d been able to enjoy since his training began again. 

 “That’s another reason I know this is all bullshit.” He said, his mouth full and taking her in in what must have been the closest proximity they’d been in for a while. 

 “What is?” 

 “You’re nervous. I can feel it.” 

 “I’m not nervous. I’m…tired and my best friend hates my guts. This whole thing is a complete mess and I don’t appreciate your…” She waved her hand up and down, vaguely gesturing in his direction. “…jovial manner. It’s pissing me off so stop it. Everything’s different now and you can’t just magically make everything better.” 

 His face turned serious as he took in her slightly standoffish body language and harsh tone. She wasn’t one for letting her frustration get the best of her but the fact she had now should have told him something. She was trying her hardest to look anywhere but at him. 

 “Some things haven’t changed, Sarah.” He said, quietly, aiming for reassurance but landing somewhere nearer to pleading. “The way I feel about you hasn’t changed. If anything, I think it’s made me more sure.” 

 “How do you figure that?” She folded her arms in a weak attempt at creating a barrier between them lest he realise he was getting to her. 

 “Because I’m here and not there.” He shrugged. “I could have panicked and gone to my Mom but I didn’t.” 

 They briefly looked at each other and he thought he could see some semblance of understanding in her eyes but she was certainly trying her hardest not to show it. 

 “I came here because I want to be here and I’m tired of hiding that fact.” 

 “I don’t think it’ll make things easier if they knew you were here. Does Scott even know you’re here?” She asked. 

 “No. Not that I know of. I just left.” He admitted it like it was no big deal. “Anyway, stop trying to change the subject. We need to figure this out, Sarah. You and me. We need to figure out where we go from here.” 

 “We don’t go anywhere, Chris. That’s the thing.” She finally got some words out. “I mean, you just…told her. Like it was nothing. Like you were surprised that she would be just a little bit upset about this.” 

 “I know…” It was all he could say. He was trying to think of something else to add, something reassuring, but his mind had gone blank and even though she had make-up smudged across her eyes, she looked prettier than he’d seen her before. 

 “I keep thinking the worst is over with now but I don’t think any of this will feel better.” 

 “Right now it might seem like that but it’ll be OK, I promise. It just takes some time and then we’ll figure it out. We’ll be OK.” 

 “No. Just stop promising things, Chris. You’re just making it harder. You can’t fix this. This whole thing is our mistake and no one else’s. It was only ever gonna end up one way and we were just delaying the inevitable.” 

 “Before what?” 

 She took another sip of the coffee. “What?” 

 “You said “the inevitable”. The inevitable before what?” 

 “I…” Her eyes moved around the room as she tried to think of a response. “It’s just a figure of speech. I guess I just meant that it wasn’t like this was gonna carry on forever.” 

 “Why not?” 

 “Because, it’s…What do you mean “why not”? What did you think was gonna happen?” 

She was growing frustrated with his persistence and her inability to think of a rational answer because deep down, she knew what he was hinting at and it was exasperating how easily he managed to back her into a corner. 

 “Look,” she sighed, holding her hands up in front of her as though she was trying to calm him down. He didn’t seem in the least bit perturbed by what she saying. “It was a thing that happened and we shouldn’t have carried on the way that we did. We’re practically family and it would have made everyone around us feel awkward.” 

 “They would have learned to deal with it.” 

 “No, they wouldn’t. It would be weird and it would have changed the dynamic of us all and…it’d be like if Scott started dating Josh.” 

 “I don’t need that image, thanks.” 

 “Well, there you go.” Was this a win? She’d made a point. It should have felt like a win but she wasn’t sure. “There’s some lines you just don’t cross. We’ve known each other too long and if things didn’t work out, it would be shit for everyone especially me because it’s not like they’ll stop talking to you.” 

 He pondered what she had just said and watched her slide into the nearest chair. He watched her run her fingers over the smooth wood and finally realised the anxiety that had been building up for the last few months. All of the thoughts and worries she’d been hiding were slowly coming to the surface. 

 “It’s not all about Shanna, is it?” He quietly prodded. “It’s everyone else as well. You feel like you’ve got more to lose.” 

 “She’s my best friend. She’s the best one I’ve ever had.” She stated. She started picking at the corner of a fingernail as he looked across at her. “I know you can’t understand what it’s like and I can’t really explain it. And I’m sorry for that, I am, but…” 

 “I wanna know, Sarah. This affects me as well. I need to understand this.” 

 They looked at each other and he took the silent invitation to sit down beside her. He could have brushed his hand over her leg, he was sat so close, but one thing at a time. 

 “Talk to me.” He leaned in a little bit more. “Please.” 

 “She made a big deal out of getting to know me when we were in college. I was like this quiet, weird, introverted person that seemed aloof to most people but she made the effort. She’d picked me out and put me in the middle of things like she was showing me off or something. Like, she was proud to know me and…I liked that. That felt nice. Reassuring. I really liked how loud and alert she seemed to be all the time because I wasn’t like that. I didn’t have that kind of confidence. I guess it was the first time I felt OK with myself because she made the effort with me so I must be reasonably alright as a person, right? She picked me to be her friend because she wanted to get to know me.” 

 She looked down at her hands and blinked back a few tears. “It was probably the first time I felt wanted.” 

 “Your parents want you, Sarah.” 

 “They didn’t choose me, though. Not really.” She shook her head, sniffling a little more obviously now but she didn’t much care. “They wanted a child and they were given me.” 

 She was right; he wasn’t able to understand. Not completely. He’d never suffered from a lack of confidence in that regard. He knew his friends, he knew his family, and he always knew where he wanted to be. It wasn’t something he even had to ask himself. 

But Sarah did, and Shanna must have felt like that, too. At one time. Scott was right; they were one and the same. 

 “I want you.” He offered, finally reaching a hand out to her only to feel sad that she didn’t flinch, didn’t give him some encouragement that he was having an effect on her. That it wasn’t all futile. 

 She looked into his eyes. She appreciated the sentiment more than she thought she would, sitting at odds in her kitchen, him with his half-puppy-dog expression slowly melting the ring of steel she’d tried to place around herself in the vain hope it might help her cope. If she wasn’t careful, this conversation could lead them both into trouble again and she guessed that was what he meant when he said he knew she was talking bullshit. 

 She moved away and he watched her pace a little before finally opting for the relative safety on the opposite side of the room, the furthest possible point away from him. He hated that he couldn’t get to her, that she wouldn’t allow him to at least try and make things a little better. 

She ran her hands through her hair, resting them on the top of her head, pulling at the strands. He had never seen her like this. 

 “I mean it. I want you so badly, Sarah, it’s ridiculous. If you only knew…” 

 “It’s not gonna work.” She responded. 

 “You don’t think this is worth it?” 

 “I don’t think it’s enough.” 

 Something in his chest fell to his stomach. He swallowed and looked back down at his hands. This was probably what Scott had tried to warn him about. He should have at least tried to listen, tried to think of the worst outcome so he could have prepared himself. But nothing could have prepared him for whatever it was he was feeling now. 

 “I’m so sorry, Chris.” Sarah offered. “You’re so lovely, truly. The fact that you’re here now is, well, it means a lot to me. I hope you can understand that. I’m not saying it for the sake of it, I promise.” 

 Chris nodded, feeling tears sting his eyes again. 

 “But we need to think about her. We both need to make it right with her.” 

 Chris nodded again. 

 “I think your Mom said she was going to talk to Shanna, so…you should probably head that way.” 

 “What are you going to do?” 

 “I’m just gonna hang here for a little bit. I don’t particularly want to go back into work, I don’t think I could face the questions.” She chuckled awkwardly. “Plus, I think I wanna take a sleeping pill and knock myself out for a bit.” 

 “I don’t wanna go, Sarah.” He pleaded. “And I really don’t believe you want me to go either.” 

 “I know. I don’t what else I can do.” 

For the first time, she knew she was definitely lying to him. 

*

#chris evans #chris evans fic #fanfiction #evans fic #chris evans x original female character #clear the area #Sarah Bernette

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Speak No Evil (Part 2)

It is all fuzzy now. She doesn’t remember how she got home and she can’t quite place where she had been before she got there. She just knows that she had been somewhere else and that she is in the palace infirmary now.

She remembers that she had stormed off after a heated argument--argument implies that there had been some pushback, she reminds herself--but she doesn’t know where to. Really she ought to be trying to recollect what had happened. Instead she finds herself wishing that TyLee had yelled back. Had told her that she is an awful person or that she isn’t as great as she tries to be. Anything that could paint the princess herself in a better light. But the facts are all there; as per usual she is malicious. She is everything that Mai has been telling TyLee to avoid and get away from.

Azula can’t say that she has expected any different, no one is there by her bedside to greet her and no one comes to check on her for a better  part of the day. When the palace doctor does come by, she flatly asks the princess how she feels before flinching to herself. Azula isn’t sure why the woman is cringing until she opens her mouth to speak.

And she remembers. She remembers all of it. She touches her fingers to her throat, tears prickle at her eyes. She shudders; what has she done to herself? She should have stayed within the palace and waited for her episode to play through. She should have done a lot of things and she shouldn’t have done a great deal more.

The nurse awkwardly shuffles out, likely to fetch Zuko. But an hour goes by and no one else shows up. Her mind wanders. Wanders back to a gorgeous night, a night that feels like a distant memory.

.oOo.

Her mind was distant, still moving in circles, unable to leave that morning’s argument. The more she thought about it, the worse it felt, the more assured she is that she is a bad women. Perhaps the worst. That TyLee has and always did deserve better. Better than her manipulations and her biting remarks. It came to her then that she could make things better. She needed words to twist and a silky, pretty voice to speak them with. She wouldn’t be able to eloquently lie and connive if she hadn't’ a voice to do it with. By extension, she couldn’t hurt TyLee if she couldn’t speak.

She looked towards the sky and at the blade in her hand. She wandered further away from the palace, there were too many people about. She had thought of that, but put no consideration into what would happen if she didn’t have the strength to walk herself back to the palace. She would bleed out, surely, but that didn’t yet register.

She wandered until she reached the Capital City green, a thick spot of preserved jungle. The blade shook in her grasp. Even at the climax of her insanity, she had the sense to be afraid. But she is a strong woman. She has always been a strong woman. Her mind raced in silence, she had a mission and she was going to see it through.

She stood in a beam of moonlight, it caught and glinted on the blade as she brought it to her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and her stomach lolled as came to lick metal. She pushed the blade down with more force and was met with the taste of copper. The blade fell from her hand as she doubled over, nearly hurling. She felt sick and dizzy. Her world going fuzzy with anxiety and agony and she had yet to sever her tongue all the way through. She dropped to her knees and fumbled for the blade. It nipped her trembling hand and she reflexifly pulled back with a hiss.

She couldn’t do it. She didn’t even have the dignity to finish what she started. The sound that broke from her throat was gurgled and tortured. The princess found that pain was quite sobering. Lucidity was working its way back in and she wished that it would retract again.

She picked up the bloodied blade and conflictingly thanked her senses for coming back on time to stop her from slashing at her mouth with a dirty blade. But she could still talk and that was no good. She still had enough madness left to make her way out of the capital and into the jungle.

Since the war’s end it has been teeming with spirits. She couldn’t imagine that it was going to be too hard to find one of them to steal her voice from her. Her bloodline wasn’t well loved and the spirits always did have an inclination for poetic justice.

She was growing very faint and began to wonder if they would ever find her. Likely they would when her absence was noted and extensive sweeps were done. They would find her, face down with blood drooling from her mouth.

The spirits largely ignored her until she began her endless tirade. Eventually one of them would grow tired of her and shut her up. They proved to be surprisingly patient. And perhaps it was because they couldn’t understand her slurs and curses. Much of her speech was lost to swelling and wetness. She couldn’t be certain for how long she had ranted and raved and vowed to throw the universe out of balance, but they finally grew tired of her.

She had the sense to be afraid when the first of them paused to stare at her and the sense to be terrified when the rest of them caught on. She had the sense to be petrified when she realized that she had made a mistake. That she wouldn’t be able to simply undo this.

“No, wait.” She managed weakly. She couldn’t even understand her own words. She stumbled back and, growing dizzier by the minute, hit the ground below. That was when it first registered how truly lovely the night was; how friendly the temperature, how gentle the sounds…

They were on her in seconds but one towered over the rest. It was a tall and willowy thing. Elegant. Gentle looking. It shimmered like stars reflected on a sea. The creature, she deduced, was made of many strands of iridescent wisps. Or perhaps, the iridescent wisps were merely perpetually gravitating around it.

And when it spoke it’s voice was tiered. High and low all at once. Harsh and smooth. Masculine and feminine. Loud and soft. “Princess, Azula.” Her name on its tongue was every bit as pleasing as it was damming. Azula’s lips curled up into a sad smile; the sound of the start of her undoing was gorgeous. She let herself go passive, her trembling subsiding. She thought that her brain might have solemnly accepting the fate that it had led her to.

“You have provoked a powerful bunch.” It gestured about the jungle. She was well aware. “We should have you killed.”

She hadn’t thought of that but she found herself nodding. Nodding in agreement. It was probably for the best…

Her body went tense and her throat restricted. There was a tugging and a yanking, she felt as though she were being choked. She squeezed her eyes shut, unsure if the tears that dripped down her cheek were born of emotion or the throes of death.

She knew by the end of it, when she was left shaking and sobbing, that they were born of emotion because she hadn’t been dying at all. Merely suffering. There was a throbbing in her throat, the remaining residue of her voice. And it hurt. It hurt in a strangely numb and hollow way.

She watched a thin golden-blue wisp curl vividly around the spirit’s long neck. It pulsed and beat with the throbbing ache of her throat. The spirit spoke and she could feel it in her throat. The others gather around it to listen. “Such a pretty voice, wasted on such evil things.” It commented. She can never be sure if it was a trick of her mind or the intent of the spirit, but her own voice spoke back to her, louder than the rest. “I will use it better.”

She couldn’t bring herself to disagree. It might have been absurd, but in the wake of the spirits, she found herself wondering if she could have had herself a singing career.

.oOo.

The nurse is back and Azula calls out to her. Though her mouth does move and the muscles in her throat do work, no sound comes forth. It isn’t that she has forgotten, she is well aware that she wouldn’t utter another sound. It is more or less a habit. She thinks to stand and tap the woman on the shoulder but it would be pointless; she can’t communicate that she wants to see Zuko or TyLee.

She rises from the bed anyhow and the nurse comes to beckon her back down. She shakes her head vigorously.

“Princess, you have to rest.”

She shakes her head again and gestures to the door. She mouths her request, that she wants to see TyLee. Either the nurse doesn’t understand or she doesn’t care. Her stomach tightens as she tries to force out a sound that she knows won’t come. The nurse firmly pushes Azula back onto the mattress. “Don’t do anything that is going to further compromise your health.”

Azula rolls onto her side, face bunching up into an ugly, silent sob. She realizes that she can’t even vocalize that much; a wet pillow and tear streaked cheeks are the only indication that she has spent the hour crying to herself.

No one visits her. They are angry at her again. She is alone again. She thinks that she has probably been alone this whole time, she only notices it now because her loneliness is physical.

The only people that come to see her in the passing days are a steady rotation of palace staff. If only she could tell them to put her down. She waits for them to vacate before getting to her feet. Physically, Azula feels rather well. Even if it is an illusion, she can’t bring herself to regard her own well-being.

They have her dressed in only a soft pink medical shift and long socks. She must be quite a sight, meandering about the halls. She finds Zuko, Mai, and TyLee gathered around a pai-sho board, laughing and conversing. She swallows, her breath catching in her throat. She balls her fists and takes a step forward before turning to retreat.

She feels a hand on her shoulder. “You should be in the infirmary.”

She opens her mouth to ask him why he hasn’t come to see her. She closes it again. She doesn’t need to ask anyways, she knows that it is because he is angry with her. She stares at him.

“Come on.” She resists his gentle push and makes one of her own. Shoving past him, she finds herself a seat near Mai and TyLee. She knows that she is unwanted, but she wants to be wanted and so she stubbornly holds her ground.

“Azula.” Zuko says through gritted teeth. “They told me that you were found in the jungle bleeding from the mouth. You have to go back…”

She shakes her head, points to the spot she sits in, and folds her arms over her chest.

“Come on, Azula.” He takes her by the crook of her elbow. She looks to TyLee and Mai. TyLee averts her gaze and Mai scoffs.

Azula reaches out to caress TyLee’s cheek, Mai slaps her hand away. “Don’t you dare touch her.” She hisses.

Azula’s finds that her stomach is getting queasy again. She has never hurt TyLee, not like that. She never would. She doesn’t realize that she is trying to say as much until Mai’s brows furrow. She stops trying to talk.

TyLee peers at her with wide, sad eyes. It occurs to her that, even if she could put aside her pride long enough, that she wouldn’t even be able to apologize to the woman. She swallows and bites the inside of her lip. She flinches in pain as her freshly stitched tongue hits the roof of her mouth, even still, she makes no sound.

“Y-you can’t talk?” TyLee notes, it is somewhere between a question and an observation.

Zuko’s hold loosens as Azula gives a confirming nod.

“Oh, Azula.” TyLee remarks softly. “What did you do?”

“No.” Mai grumbles. “No. She did this to herself and just because she hurt herself, that doesn’t mean that she gets to get away with hurting you again.”

“But…” TyLee starts.

“No, TyLee. She can deal with this on her own. You cleaned up that picnic for her, she can clean up her own mess this time.”

‘I’m trying.’ She mouths. But she doesn’t believe herself either. She lets Zuko walk her back to the infirmary. She waits for him to leave before pulling the blankets around herself and bunching up. She feels sick. She thinks that she has finally forged herself a conundrum that she can’t work her way out of. Even still, she knows that she has to fix things. Yet she doesn’t even know where to start nor how.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #TyLee #Tyzula #Mai #Zuko #Fanfiction

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Multi-Dimensional pt. 3

The Company x Reader

The dwarves and Bilbo discuss what they overheard and try to find out how to deal with it, and you give some wanted answers.

Trigger warnings: talks of domestic/animal abuse and bad puns.

@barbar126​

After that incident with Erick, you didn't come back down for the rest of the night. 

There were a few that wanted to go up and speak with you and offer immediate comfort, but Balin urged against it. 

"We heard what happened! The lass is torn up about it, we should do something!" Dwalin argues, getting some nods of agreement from others like Kili, Ori, and Gloin (a few others too). 

"No, did you see her face? She was mortified. We should give her a chance to calm down instead of berating her the moment she doesn't come down." Balin shoots back, shaking his head, "I see where you come from, brother, but I would urge against it." 

"Well, we can't just let her suffer by herself! She's taken care of us for free for days, and now we're sitting back and waiting like a bunch of idiots." Kili counters, arms crossed over his chest. He looks to his brother for support, flicking his head toward Balin to make him say something.

Fili shakes his head, though, reaching up to rub his chin, "No Kili, I think Balin is right. If we go barging in right now, we may only push her further away." 

"Exactly." The older dwarf agrees, clapping Fili on the back. 

"But he put his hands on her!" Ori reminds in a slightly high-pitched voice. He's not very keen on getting in the middle of these arguments. "We need to make sure he didn't hurt her..."

They go on arguing back and forth for a little while until Thorin finally speaks up with his two cents (and by that I mean decision). 

"Silence." He demands, making everyone quiet down. 

Once he's sure he has everyone's attention, he speaks again, "We must give her a chance to come down from this state she's in. We heard the vile things he spoke of and can only guess about what she and her Copper have had to endure, so it is important that we treat this situation carefully." It seems he's agreeing with Balin, much to the dismay of the opposite side. "A few hours to a day should be sufficient. Enough time to gather herself, but not too much that it seems we are ignoring it." 

Not all of them agree, but they don't argue either.

"What about supper? She needs to eat." Gloin states, scratching at his red beard while he speaks. 

"We will have Master Baggins bring her food later on." 

"W-Why me?" Bilbo stutters, having not said much as of yet. 

"Because you're the least overbearing of this bunch. Except perhaps Ori. You're the best option, and you're good at conversing with her." Thorin explains, nodding his head along as he spoke. It seems he agrees with himself, funnily enough. "Maybe you can bring a smile to her grim face." 

---

Unfortunately, you did not come down at all the next day either. The food Bilbo brought you remained outside your door and there was no movement or sound that anyone could hear from outside your door. 

The only sign that anyone was even in the room is when you opened the door to let all your animals out that next morning. 

You knew the dwarves and Bilbo would feed your animals, they did it themselves as is, so you didn't worry about them going hungry or anything like that. And you gave them access to the entirety of your kitchen so they won't starve either. 

When you still hadn't come down by the next night, all the dwarves (and Bilbo) came together once more to deliberate. 

"It's been a day like you said, uncle. She hasn't been down, nor has she eaten anything. So I really think we should do something." Kili started, looking up the stairs then back at the rest of them. "I'm worried." 

Dwalin nods along with Kili's words and crosses his arms over his chest, "The lad is right. We waited like you said, so now let us do it our way." 

Balin groans and shakes his head, lifting up a hand to show he's going to say something. "No. I don't know what you're thinking, but the answer is no." 

"Well good thing I'm not asking you, then." Dwalin growls, sending a glare to his brother. 

"She hasn't come down, so she doesn't want to speak of it. It's simple. We need to give it more time." Bofur urges when Balin nudges him, looking over to Thorin for support. 

Thorin doesn't say anything, though it does seem like he's thinking about it seriously. "I'm not yet sure." 

The uncertainty of Thorin prompts Kili to press further and exclaim, "So you think that I could be correct, then! It isn't right that we get her free care and do nothing in return, for all we know she's waiting for us to approach her about it first."

"Kili, that's a very big assumption. What if you're wrong and we only upset her further?" Fili challenges, shaking his head in disagreement, "We can't act so brashly on an 'if'. We need to be sure." 

Kili glares at his brother, refusing to back down, "So you want to just wait around and give the impression that we don't give a damn?" He's beginning to sound increasingly angrier, and this only makes Fili more irritated. 

"You know that's not what I mean. You're acting just as impulsive and emotional as usual, and it's really going to get us into trouble if you don't think clearly." Fili keeps his tone even and voice calm, but he knows his words only make Kili bristle. 

"Impulsive and emotional? Are you saying that we shouldn't treat this situation with emotion? That we should be cold and apathetic towards her when she's done nothing but care for the lot of us? Including your beardless rear!" 

Fili glares at him heatedly and opens his mouth to argue back, but he's cut off by Bilbo clearing his throat and piping up slightly awkwardly, "Well if you were to ask me, I'd say we give it to tomorrow morning, and then all go see her with breakfast. That way she doesn't have to worry about the lot of us tonight, and can have the day tomorrow to recollect her thoughts." 

There is silence after Bilbo speaks his piece, everyone seeming to think it over, before Thorin nods his head. "Yes, that sounds like a good plan. Bombur can prepare her a nice meal and you and a few others can visit her. Too many of us at once will surely overwhelm her." 

He gets 14 collective nods, some hesitant, and is glad to see everyone finally agreeing (mostly) on something. The raven-haired king goes to say something else, but before he can get a word out a soft, feminine voice halts him. 

"What are you all doing...?" 

14 pairs of eyes snap up to the top of the stairs at the speed of light, and lo and behold there you are. 

You could hear the commotion from your room and you got a bit concerned, so you decided to step out and make sure everything was okay, only to see them all huddled together and discussing something seemingly important. 

The state of you gives them a pause. You look tired and a little pale, and from your slow movements it appears you're not feeling the best either. Your eyes are sad but also curious, and your eyebrows are knitted together since it seems you're trying to figure out what's going on with them. The t-shirt your wear is disheveled as if you've only just gotten up, and your fluffy pink and white polka dotted PJ bottoms are hanging low on your hips and the legs are touching the ground since they're sagging so much. Midnight is also nestled in your arms, upright with her paws sticking out and face pressed against your chest, and there is darkened skin around your wrists where you were grabbed.

Nobody says anything for a solid minute because they're all just staring at you with shock on their faces. 

"Guys?" You call, slowly heading down the stairs with careful steps and a slightly worried expression, "I heard yelling..." 

Fili and Kili exchange a guilty look but don't say anything, and you only begin to feel more awkward. 

"We didn't mean to disturb you." Bilbo states, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. Instead of answering your questions, he asks, "Y/N, h-how are you feeling?"

Gosh, you really don't want to be asked that. But given all the worried and questioning expression's you're getting, you have to reply. 

And your approach is denial! 

"I'm fine of course. Why wouldn't I be?" You sound a bit more defensive than you meant too, but don't correct yourself. 

The little hobbit looks surprised by your reply and he glances up at Thorin with an odd expression on his face before looking back at you, "Well... because of what happened the day before. You haven't been down nor have you eaten anything since then." 

You look away and stop at the last step of the stairs, hugging Midnight a bit closer to your chest. "You don't have to worry about me just because I'm helping you out." Ever since Erick you've been the master of pushing away others and ignoring your own needs, and it seems that hasn't gotten any better. "You have no obligation to me, so it's fine. I'm perfectly fine." 

"W-What?" He splutters, completely bewildered by your cold words. "It's not that! None of us feel obligated! Right?" He looks back at everyone else who all begin to nod along when Bilbo looks to them for help. Oin doesn't but it's only because he can't quite hear them. 

"Bilbo is right. We don't ask for your well-being out of 'obligation', we ask because of all we heard." Thorin says to back up the hobbit, placing a hand down on his shoulder. "We just want to know if you are well." 

You walk off the final step and don't say anything, thinking over their words while you bring Midnight to the play-house-scratching post thing by the couch so she can play. 

She hops out of your arms and goes into one of the little compartments, peering out at you as she gets comfortable.

Animals are so uncomplicated. They're sweet and innocent, and they don't require anything from you other than proper care and love. They don't ask questions, don't take advantage of you, and definitely don't make you uncomfortable. 

Talking about your problems has never been your strong suit, and so you can't help but to feel anxious about dealing with this. 

Your stiff posture relaxes a bit but you don't turn to face them. "You're right, I'm sorry." A slightly shaky hand reaches up to pet Midnights head as you rack your brain for anything else to say other than a lame sorry, but you come up blank. 

"You needn't apologize!" Bilbo exclaims, padding over to look up at you. His voice is soft when he speaks, and there's a fair deal of empathy in his expression, "If anything we should be sorry for listening in on something we were not meant to, and then not doing anything when you were in trouble." 

Slowly you look down at the hobbit, brows knitted together and lip drawn between your teeth as you listen to him. "No... I told you not to come out." You shake your head and step away from the cat tower, diverting your gaze from Bilbo to look at the wall, "That was my choice, and I dealt with the problem, more or less." 

"Well, yes you did. And we stood by and listened and waited behind a wall like a bunch of cowards." Dwalin speaks up gruffly, he had been one of the ones moving around to go give that bastard a piece of his mind (one of them, there were many), "It would've been on our hands if something would've happened." 

His words surprise you, and when you turn and see multiple guilty and agreeing countenances, you suddenly feel worse, "Is that what you've all been doing since yesterday? Blaming yourselves?" 

Nobody meets your eyes this time around. 

A soft sigh leaves you when they remain silent, the quiet being an answer in itself, and you take a few steps forward, "You actually think I fault you for any of that? Are you nuts?" Your voice displays your shock and disbelief transparently, but your face is where the real shock is. "What happened with E... with that man is not your fault or problem in the slightest. Y-You all have barely even known me for a week and a half, so you shouldn't go feeling guilty for something like that." 

"The length of time we've known you has nothing to do with it!" The brunette nephew of Thorin says loudly, before back tracking and stating a bit more calmly, "How long you know someone doesn't dictate levels of trust and care." 

Oh, well that's pretty sweet. 

You look away again and rub your arm, tapping your foot against the floor a few times, "Well I've given you no reason to trust or care for me. F-For all you know I've already contacted someone to come and take you all away." You haven't and wouldn't dare dream of it, but they don't know that, and that's what's important. 

"You haven't." Thorin states confidently, looking at you a bit more pointedly, "I know you haven't. The thought never once passed your mind either." 

"How can you be so sure?" You shoot back, narrowing your eyes slightly. 

"Because a week is more than enough time to determine ones character, and yours is strange, yes, but also very considerate, kind, and generous." Oh boy, his words are really strumming your heart strings at the moment, "And I don't believe anyone who loves or speaks to animals as you do could be capable of malicious intent." 

Is that just a fancy way of calling you nonthreatening and gullible? Probably. Does it make you happy and flattered? Definitely. 

"Touché." You mumble, gaze sliding back over to them, "I'm sorry." 

"Stop apologizing." Thorin states, furrowing his eyebrows, "If you do not blame us, then we do not blame you." 

"Alright, alright..." 

It's quiet for a few moments, and you find your eyes locking on Butterscotch who is rubbing herself all over Balin's legs and mewling for attention. That damn attention-whore. 

"Are we allowed to ask questions about what happened?" Bofur asks suddenly, grunting when Nori elbows him hard in the side. "What?" 

You reach up and rub the back of your head, looking over at the hat wearing dwarf, "I... guess you can." The thought of talking about Erick is not the most appealing, but if you expect them to trust you then it's only fair you suppose. 

Balin, ever the darling, shakes his head and defends, "Maybe we shouldn't bother the lass too much with questions, she's only just come down after all." 

He's very thoughtful and sweet (much wiser than the rest too), and you find yourself feeling very grateful towards him, "Thank you Balin, but... it's okay. If I don't want to answer something I just wont."

"Well... are you feeling better tonight?" Ori pipes up nervously. 

You open you mouth to respond, but your stomach does that for you in the form of loud, hungry growling. As soon as that horrid noise reaches your ears you wrap an arm around your stomach, face going warm at the poor timing. 

"Oh, well of course she's hungry! A day and a half of not eating isn't good for you, lass." This time it's Bombur who speaks, and he seems to be very sympathetic over your hunger. "Let her eat before we bother her any more." 

---

That's exactly what they let you do. 

You had a nice sort of dinner (it's around 8 o'clock now), and after you ate you allowed them to ask whatever questions they wanted. 

They asked a plethora of different things, ranging from who he was to what happened between the two of you. 

It's hard explaining such a situation to so many people, male people at that, at once, but they were surprisingly good listeners. When you told them that the two of you were once 'betrothed' (as they put it) though, there was a lot more anger than you expected. Apparently such treatment of females in their culture is unacceptable and absolutely disgraceful. 

They had you elaborate on a few of the things said to you (after mostly everyone had calmed down) like why he would have any right to Copper, what a judge and suing is, and if he was actually planning on killing you and your animals. 

A lot to unload, but you answered their questions to the best of your abilities. 

When you explained how he bought Copper and gave him to you as a means to make you stay they were confused. 

"Why would you stay for the dog?" Dori wondered, not really understanding why someone would go through something bad for one animal. 

The lot of you had since settled on the couches, and Copper is laying on top of you (he's a big boy, but damn it he will be a lap dog forever). You stroked the top of his head and looked down at him, a slightly sad smile coming to your face, "He was all I had. I'd pushed away all my friends, my family, and most of the time I wasn't permitted to go out by myself. He was my only positive source of contact for a long time, and- well, I guess he's also what convinced me to leave." You squeeze him gently and look up at the ceiling, "He means a lot to me, and that's exactly why he bought him for me." 

Nobody said anything for a while after that until Bilbo asked from your left, "Is that why you became an animal caretaker?" 

"It is. Animals are a lot easier to handle than people." 

"And what is 'sue you'?" Ori inquires from his spot on the floor next to his brothers. "He said something about 'sue for assault and robbery'." 

"Well suing is when you report someone to the authorities and take them to court so you can take their money, essentially." A very vague explanation, but they don't need to worry much about it. "He wont though, because if he does then he'll have to tell them the reason I left and why he was at my house in the first place. It'll put him in a bad light." 

Your spotty definition of the justice system doesn't seem to clear their confusion much, but they don't ask about it further since it doesn't seem like it 's going to be a problem. 

At the assurance that you're not going to be prosecuted Kili feels comfortable asking you another question. "So if he will not report you, then he won't actually kill you or your animals either then, right? It was just stated to bother you?"

His question, though innocent and looking for affirmation, makes you unconsciously wince and your expression grim, "No... he's definitely going to kill me." You're not 100% sure why you thought it was a good idea to say it like that, but it seems your response has successfully put them all in a panic. 

"W-Wait, he's actually going to kill you?" Kili asks in alarm. 

Before you can retract your statement and clarify, there's more yelling. 

"So he's going to come back and try to hurt 'er?" 

"What are we going to do about this?"

"We can't let that happen, uncle!" 

"What? What is everyone sayin'?" That one was Oin, the poor deaf dear. 

"Hey!" You yell, startling Copper who is half covering your body with his still. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that." 

"So he isn't going to kill you?" Ori says, a bit panicky still. 

You reach up and rub the back of your head, trying to find the right words. "The likelihood of him coming back and causing problems is... high, and he may try to murder me, but it's possible that he won't. So you don't need to worry." 

You just get 14 blank stares in response. 

"No offense Y/N, but that's daft." Bilbo is the sass master apparently, because he doesn't pull any punches. "How can you speak of being killed so normally?"

"Because I've been expecting it." Admitting it to yourself isn't the most pleasant thing, but it's true nonetheless. "I've come to terms with the fact that I may never know peace, so why go back and deny it now? I may be pathetic but I'm not stupid." Bitterness seeps into your voice and you immediately feel bad for speaking so pessimistically. 

Instead of apologizing though, you just bury your face into Coppers fur and stroke Midnights back (she came to join the two of you). 

"Is that really how you've been living your life?" The hobbit's voice is softer and less judgemental this time which only serves to make you feel more guilty. "Why have we only just noticed?" He wonders out loud, looking over at everyone else. 

His question does give you a pause, because truthfully you hadn't though about that. You lift your head and look over at him, then at everyone else, and then at Copper again, "Because... Because since you've all been here I haven't had to think about it. Having you here made it easy to forget." 

You shift up a bit to get more comfortable, but unfortunately Copper takes that as a sign to get off and meander away.

A pout comes onto your face when you try to lure him back, but he only walks off into another room. Great, now your shield is gone. 

You sit up normally and cross your legs, leaning back against the couch with your hands in your lap. 

"Well, Y/N rest assured that we aren't going to leave you to the mercy of fate after hearing all this. You've assisted us in our time of need, so it's only fair that we would do the same." Thorin says from next to Bilbo, Mittens snuggled in his lap and Yeti between him and the hobbit. "If I were to make everyone run off now anyways, I think they'd overthrow me."

There's more humor in his voice this time, and it brings a small smile to your face. "A coup from your own people for lil ole me?" Although you're joking, it does warm your soul to know that you've wormed your way into their hearts. 

Some of them laugh at the joke, and for the first time since yesterday you actually feel like things are normal. 

Suddenly a thought strikes you and you lean forward quickly, "Oh I have a question!" You declare, hands resting on your knees while you wait for everyone to direct their attention to you. 

Thorin is the one to answer you, "What is it?" 

"Why do you call Bilbo your burglar?"

You get a lot of bewildered and confused looks, before Fili slowly states, "Because... he is? He's supposed to steal the arkenstone back for us." 

These fools have fallen right into your trap. "Then why don't you call him your robbit?" You start to laugh as soon as you say it, because god you've been sitting on that one for a while now. 

Some of the more cultured dwarves begin to laugh after you say that (whether it's out of pity or actual amusement you don't know), while others groan and pray that they forget about your awful joke. 

When you look over at Bilbo he's smiling, and that only serves to make you laugh more. You reach up and cover your mouth with the back of your hand to stifle your giggles, and when you do relax you find that you feel infinitely better. 

"Look at that smile!" Balin comments with a grin of his own, very happy that things have finally calmed down, "Isn't that so much better, lads?"

There is a bunch of collective agreements, and while it does make you feel a bit embarrassed, it also makes your smile a bit brighter. 

Yeah, you're gonna have to keep 'em.

#thorin oakenshield #kili x reader #fili #reader #tolkien #fili x reader #thorin x reader #the company of thorin oakenshield #the company x reader #bilbo x reader #bilbo baggins #kili #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #may be triggering #dwalin #balin #bofur #ori #originally posted on ao3 #multi-dimensional #multi dimensional

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Two: Chapter Nine

(AO3 counterpart here.)

As Littlepaw was having her history lesson, the edge of the stone settlement an hour away saw Darkpelt grooming herself in the sun.

It was a little useless, she was free to admit. No matter how much she cleaned her already spotless pelt, she always carried the dusty scent of the Versant family. She thought it was a nice smell – had a faint adventurousness to it that stirred curiosity in the heart – but it wasn’t helpful for her job. Having absolutely no scent at all was infinitely better; the difficult part was that the plants that could smother that smell generally did not smell themselves, meaning that even she had a hard time finding them. So she had to resort to continuous grooming and occasionally jumping into a nearby stream.

That all said, it was a good way to spend time while she considered her next move, so on she went, tongue rasping over her shoulder fur as she plotted.

The boys were a great deal more useful than she had expected, and together they had collected some useful information about Redheart and her goals… but it didn’t feel like it was enough. They knew she didn’t like StarClan and that she wanted to leave the Territory. That was good and all, but they didn’t have any thorough details on what her exact plans were and how long they had before they needed to intercept.

Besides, there was more to this situation than had been discovered – things that no one was aware of except Redheart. There wasn’t much basis or proof for that thought. There didn’t need to be. Darkpelt’s intuition had not led her wrong before.

What they really needed to do, she thought, was get more information on Greyleaf’s involvement. Even Mistface had barely had a chance to talk to him after all this time. Perhaps that was deliberate on his brother’s part. But, then again, Darkpelt was aware of how close the two had been all of their lives leading up to this point. It didn’t make much sense for Greyleaf to be actively avoiding Mistface. Perhaps he knew something too, and-

“Oh, there you are.”

Darkpelt paused, tongue sticking out, and looked around uselessly, as if she couldn’t smell and hear the cat to her right and a bit behind her. She made a show of sniffing the air, then rotated her position until she was facing the cat.

“Here I am,” she said, as friendly as was appropriate. “Can I help you?”

“You’re Darkpelt,” the cat said. “I heard about how you handled Starkfeather being a prick to Littlepaw.”

“Ohhh, that.” Darkpelt lifted a paw and waved it dismissively. “Yes, that was me. Is she doing alright?”

She kept her tone casual and her face smiley, but mentally she winced. Coming to the apprentice’s defense and catching the attention of an entire crowd had not been wise. She had risked blowing her cover in the long run – now everyone there knew that there was a blind cat around who was ready to talk smack to a seer, of all people. She was a thought, however small, in many minds. If she wanted to sneak around, she had to contest with that.

It had been fun, of course, but still.

“She actually left a while ago with some of your friends to visit the Vultures,” said this cat that Darkpelt now figured was Littlepaw’s friend, Flyfang. “So, yeah! She’s doing fine.” There was a sneaky amusement in the molly’s voice. “She told me you offered to teach her to swear.”

“Lies!” Darkpelt dropped her jaw and moved her paw to rest over her chest. “I would never teach a kid to swear. I just extended an invitation to help her learn to stand up for herself, that’s all.” She winked. “Of course, whatever she overhears me say when I’m not talking to her, that’s her business to take or dismiss.”

Flyfang laughed. “I can’t say I’d be any better about that. What she must have heard me say the entire time we’ve been here…”

She paused, and her fur shifted rapidly, like she had shaken herself. “Well, to my point – I just wanted to say ‘thank you’ for what you did.”

Darkpelt blinked, surprised.

“Littlepaw’s a good kid,” Flyfang went on. “She can be sensitive, though, especially on her own. If I’m not there to stand by her, she’s as meek as she was before we met. She’s great, but… she wouldn’t stand up for herself if she’d been alone.” Flyfang cleared her throat. “Yeah, basically, thank you. It meant a lot to her – your offer and you speaking up. So it means a lot to me, too.”

Darkpelt had no idea how to respond. She was generally considered unpleasant company; as a result, she did not recollect a time where someone was genuinely thankful and appreciative of her actions beyond her services in spy work. Usually she just antagonized others and laughed about it.

Well. First time for everything.

She felt her smile level out into something more real (and self-conscious) than her usual mocking grin. “She is a good kid. I haven’t talked with her much, of course, but I can hear her playing with those two other apprentices sometimes. I can’t imagine some punk thinking it would be a good idea to pick on her.” She fumbled a little in her mind, trying to think of what else to say, and she came up with, “I appreciate the thanks.”

Flyfang shifted, and in her own uncertainty Darkpelt couldn’t tell if she too was feeling awkward or not. “I was going to ask, actually – what are you doing here to begin with? You can’t really get into fights… well, not physical ones.”

“You underestimate my power,” Darkpelt said. Her grin returned. “Though I just came here to witness the chaos Redheart’s about to cause. It’s too good to miss out on.”

“It does get pretty chaotic here already.” Flyfang laughed again. “You’ve heard all the crazy things that happen. Fights, arguments, everything.”

Darkpelt waved her tail with a practiced merriment, seizing the opportunity to change the course of the conversation. “And from what I’ve heard myself, you’re the resident champion in those fights.”

She could feel Flyfang puffing out her chest. “I win a fight or two, sure.” There was a loaded pause, and then Flyfang continued, “Redheart told me I’m the perfect warrior to help protect whatever cats come with her.”

“Oh!” Darkpelt tilted her head, ears perked. “Then you’re leaving too?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Flyfang suddenly sounded quieter, and not because of some sweet gossip she wanted to share. “I have a couple cats I’d like to take with me, if I do. They’re not ready to go yet. Apprentices, you know.”

Darkpelt hummed sympathetically. “As far as I can tell with Redheart, I think she’d be willing to wait for them. She seems nice enough.” A thought came to her mind, and she took a gamble on it. “I’m surprised she doesn’t just become a leader and do whatever she wants once she’s there.”

“That’s true,” Flyfang said thoughtfully. “And she’d have nine lives to get it all done, right?”

“I don’t want nine lives.”

Darkpelt jumped and looked around wildly before settling on the source of Redheart’s voice. Somehow, they had let her sneak up on them.

“Why not?” Flyfang asked, completely oblivious to Darkpelt’s surprise, thank the stars.

Redheart didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her voice was low and dark. “I’m not interested in the price for them.”

“Alright, I guess.” Flyfang sounded a bit bemused. “You sure do like to talk cryptically.”

“Things will be cleared up once we’re out of the Territory,” Redheart said simply. Before Flyfang could respond, she turned to Darkpelt. “I just came by to make sure you two are doing alright. I heard about Starkfeather’s behavior, and the argument.”

Great. Now Redheart was properly aware of her.

Darkpelt just nodded. “I’m sure he’ll back off from here. I gave him quite the lashing!”

“So I was told.” Redheart sounded like she was hiding some amusement herself. “But you are well? Nothing to see a healer over, no problems in camp?”

“Nope,” said Flyfang. “We’re all good. Or I am, at least.”

“I’m fine too,” Darkpelt said pleasantly. “I appreciate you checking in, at least, ma’am.”

Redheart didn’t respond. Presumably, she had nodded. Darkpelt heard her take a breath, but that faint shaky voice of Greyleaf’s called for her, cutting her off.

Paws carried the speaker closer. “Sorry, we’ve just got an argument. Snowshine wants you to come help resolve it.”

“Speartalon again?” Redheart said.

“No, Vireoberry and Peregrinefang.” Greyleaf sighed. “They’re not happy with the newcomers, as usual.”

Redheart made a noise with a mood that Darkpelt couldn’t quite decipher. “Show me the way.” To Darkpelt and Flyfang, she added, “Let me know if anything troubles you two.”

“Will do."

“Yeah, same.”

With that, pawsteps, and they faded away. In the distance, Darkpelt could faintly hear angry voices.

“It’s really been getting more contentious around here since Redheart’s been gathering cats,” Flyfang remarked. “I mean, there’s always some conflict going on, but I’m sure it’s not usually this bad.”

“Has anyone been annoyed with you and Littlepaw?” Darkpelt asked, more for information than curiosity. This could be useful to establish a timeline, if she needed it.

“No, we got here just before the masses.” Flyfang sounded a little irritated herself. “I get where they’re coming from, at least. The whole purpose of this place is to be rough-and-tumble and get into fights. Half of the cats that arrived are totally disinterested. And honestly? Kind of punks about it.”

Darkpelt nodded, letting Flyfang continue. She started going on about some specific cats that had been poor guests in the settlement, but Darkpelt only half paid attention. The rest of her was focused on this note of conflict between the potential deserters and the natives.

The main thing that this implied was that Redheart didn’t have a lot of time before tensions rose too high and cats were forced to leave. If Darkpelt was right, then the natural conclusion was this:

She and the boys needed to gather more information fast. They had a brief period left to discover everything they could before Redheart walked away from the Territory. And they were missing something, Darkpelt could feel it.

What did that mean, she wondered, "the price”?

#warrior cats #steorra #arc two #chapter #chapter nine #darkpelt #redheart #flyfang #greyleaf

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

The Lore of the Forest - Chapter 1: What Winter Brings

Summary: Nothing ancient and magical is ever really lost. When the descendants and heirs of the myths and legends come together to live a normal life, something - someone - is thrown into their plans. Bringing with them aid, magic and so much more. 

Pairing: Eventual BTS x Reader Genre: Poly, Romance, Fantasy 

Chapter Warnings: Hidden Greek myth pun, Seokjin as town doctor, reader! appears, sick kids, lots of Seokjin focus sorrynotsorry, unedited, lots of backstory 

Word Count: 7k+

Taglist: @xxqueenwxtchxx​ @lysannnnaa​ PROLOGUE HERE

Being back in the village is odd, Jungkook decides, especially since he has no recollection of his own absence.

Everyone in the village, from the young ones to the few remaining elders, look at him like he’s a ghost for the first few days of his return. Every time he approached someone, they’d turn to him with a small jolt as if they didn’t expect him even with him announcing his presence time and time again. It bummed him out for a bit but considering how the whole village mourned for him for almost a month, it was more than understandable and worth the awkwardness after every encounter.

At least now, there’s no more suppressed shrieks from the old ladies in the market.

Humming, Jungkook nods to himself, reaching for his wardrobe and picking out one of his brother’s shirts. They’d really gone ahead and burned all his clothes, huh? Good thing Taehyung’s still got some of his bigger shirts lying around. Brushing off some cloth balls, Jungkook shrugs on his thick coat and heads out the cottage.

Winter’s almost here, making its presence known with the barren trees and biting winds. The village streets are almost deserted, the inhabitants of their settlement preferring to stay at home and tend to their families. Snow has not fallen yet, and the few that are out are mostly adult men and women, gathering the last of their supplies for the coming cold, strengthening the roofs of their houses and bringing in their smoked catch.

Seokjin had mentioned that by the looks of the stars, it’s going to be one of the harsher winters they’ve had. As Jungkook’s feet lead him to the healing hut, he remembers the harshest winter their settlement has gone through.

He was only thirteen then, and the settlement was only composed of seven people. None of them older than eighteen. Seven young teenagers from different lineages, all thrown out from villages that didn’t want them and feared them. Remembering it now, still, brings forth a bitter taste in Jungkook’s mouth. He had never been one of the forgiving ones in their family.

That winter, they had nothing but the clothes on their backs and some dried fruits they’ve managed to steal from their wanderings from town to town. Their eldest, Seokjin, had only been eighteen but he and his other older brothers had done their best to scrounge up resources before winter hit, however, no matter how much they worked odd jobs for the “purebloods” – humans – it still wasn’t enough. When the first harsh gale came, Namjoon managed to convince an old kind gentleman to let them stay in his storage hut for the winter, in exchange for never ending fire. The old man, with winter living in his bones, was wedded to a woman who had spring in hers, so he wasn’t foolish enough to even think of turning them down.

However, the moment Jungkook, all young and barely presenting of his old blood, stepped from behind Hoseok everything came crashing down and they were sent packing.

(After, long long after, once the old couple’s children found their settlement, they found out that their lineage was nearly driven extinct by an old feud between them and Jungkook’s old blood. It was a bloody war, they’d said and their father, up until his death, still flinched at the sound of howling wolves.)

After they were kicked out – with the old man reluctantly parting with some of their supplies at the glare of his wife – Jungkook managed to sniff out an den deep in the forest. It was one of the few remaining dens of the old wolves, large enough to fit three adult werewolves and definitely large enough for seven of them – a bit tight but who were they to complain?

It was there, huddled together for warmth, did the eight of them spend what turned out to be the worst winter in two decades. It was there where Namjoon swore that it will never happen again – and where Jungkook swore he would follow that older male his entire life.

It took two years of non-stop work, of many many rejections and threats, one near-famine and, trial and error when it comes to farming and medicine, for them to finally settle down in their home between two mountains. And after that, it only took months for families to join them, it started with young adults, then their ailing parents and then their children. All of them believing in Namjoon’s leadership, brought forth by Yoongi’s expertise and Seokjin’s medical knowledge, charmed by Taehyung, assured by Hoseok’s strength and Jungkook’s hunt and kept by Jimin’s warmth.

As the healing hut came to view, Jungkook chews on the thought that the one thing he brings to the village is now banned by his brothers. He hasn’t been allowed to hunt since his return. Although a part of him understood, another part is disappointed that his skills couldn’t be put to use especially during these times. Winter means scarcity and scarcity means a possibility for people to starve.

He’d tried once to sneak out only to find out that Taehyung had put a subtle tracking charm on his person that notified them when he tried to step into the forest. And now, he’s rendered to be Seokjin’s assistant and errand boy in the healing hut.

“Jungkook! Great, you’re here!”

The wolf descent looks up to see his hyung looking ragged and wearing a cloth around his nose and mouth. Before he could ask, the son of fae tosses him a similar cloth and gestures him to tie it tight.

The moment he enters the healing hut, he understands.

Inside the hut is what looks like a half of the village kids, lying on cots parallel to the walls, all looking wan and weak even under the warm light. At the farthest corner of the room was Jimin, murmuring comforting words to a young girl around five while he wipes her arms with a cool cloth. Jungkook quickly walks towards Seokjin.

“Hyung, what’s happening?” he asks, words slightly muffled by the cloth around his face. Behind him, a watery cough splutters out a boy of six years old, quickly covered by his own mother sitting vigil by his side.

Seokjin pauses from reaching into his medicine cabinet. The cabinet is littered by different colored vials, some glass jars filled with roots and powders, all labeled with Seokjin’s crisp handwriting. This close, Jungkook could see the exhaustion in the older male’s eyes and the slight tremble of his hand. Quietly, Seokjin tips his head to the backroom and walks away with several jars.

The backroom of the healing hut is a relatively new addition, created to provide Seokjin some breathing space away from his patients. Usually, the patients are seen to where the kids are lying and then sent home to recover in their homes, with occasional visits from the village doctor.

Inside the backroom is a small bed and a large wide table. The table is littered with notes and powder marks from the upturned pestle and mortar. With a muted thud, Seokjin sets down the jars and rips away the mask from his face. Frustrated, he runs his hand through his hair and sighs.

“We’ve got ten kids sick in the middle of winter, that’s what we have.” Seokjin sighs and flops down the chair. He hasn’t slept in more than a day, only getting half hour sleeps while shifting with Jimin and Taehyung. It’s not sustainable, even if it’s only been a few days.

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow. Ten? “But, yesterday we only had two. And I saw Yeon-Joo with Jimin back there. Didn’t we give her medicine three days ago?”

“That’s the thing.” The older male sighs, reaching out for his charts. In clear handwriting, he could see the emerging pattern and it’s not looking pretty. For the past week, all the ten kids in the other room came with the same symptoms characteristic of a cold. Common, especially with the cold change of the weather.

Seven days ago, it was the eight year-old daughter of the newly arrived couple from the east. Upon observation, Seokjin diagnosed it as a case of travel fatigue and sent the daughter and her mom with a vial of cold medicine.

Three days after, the triplets of the dryad descent came in with the same symptoms. Seokjin kept them overnight, running himself ragged at taking care of three puking kids at the same time. The day after they felt better and went home with a tweaked vial of stomach flu medicine, only to be replaced by two siblings, followed by another four in two days.

It was quiet for a few days until today, when Seokjin found a long line of parents carrying their kids – the same kids- in front of the healing hut.

Seokjin’s eyes focus on the charts and saw one common factor. All of the kids live in the same area, near the park and the registry, except one – Yeseo, the newcomers’ daughter. If his hunch is right, he’d have to notify Namjoon to convene what to tell the parents, else an argument and finger-pointing ensue.

“Jungkook, I need favor.”

And that’s how Jungkook finds himself in front of Yeseo, mask down and ready to sniff around the kid. Part of the reason why Namjoon assigned him in the healing hut is his acute sense of smell. Perks of being a wolf descent, he teased. It has helped them in the past to determine if someone was sick, or getting sick, or if something is poisonous or not.

I bet hyung didn’t see it coming this handy so soon.

Seokjin deemed it safe for him to get close as the children’s parents were left healthy even with constant exposure to their kids. Jungkook resolves to ignore the worried adults hovering behind him and sits low beside the trembling girl.

The babe’s face is flushed and sweat beads down her cheeks. With fearful eyes, she stares at Jungkook before flicking towards her mom. Her lips tremble.

“Hey, hey.” Jungkook’s voice is low and quiet, “Don’t cry. I’m not going do anything bad. Just going to check up on you, yeah? So you could get better faster.”

“And make snowballs?”

A fond smile tugs on Jungkook’s lips and he nods. “Yeah, and have snowball fights. Now, stay still for me, okay?”

Jungkook leans forward, close enough that there’s only a few centimeters between his nose and Yeseo’s forehead. He sniffs quietly, eyes closed and focused.

Underneath the smell of sweat, dry vomit and porridge are the nauseating smell of fear and nervousness. Detecting nothing different from normal cold, Jungkook moves to lift Yeseo’s wrist to his nose. Sniffing, he shuts his eyes tighter, blocking all the outside smells from his thoughts – from Jimin’s soap to the smell of ash from the fireplace – and finds something… sweet.

Dropping the child’s wrist gently, Jungkook looks at Seokjin and beckons him closer. The parents, sensing the atmosphere, give them space while Jungkook whispers to the fae descent.

Seokjin nods at the words before turning to Yeseo and her mom. “Sweetheart, did you eat something sweet? A fruit, maybe?”

The child tucks her head down as her mother answers. “No, we don’t have anything sweet in our house. And, we’ve only bought meat and vegetables from the market since we came here.”

The village doctor nods, understanding, before tilting his head to the young kid. Subtly, Seokjin releases some of his energy, enticing Yeseo to feel calm and honest. Her eyes turn slightly glassy and her cheeks flush prettily before she shifts in her place.

After a few moments, the child produces a small pouch from underneath the bed. “I… I found it before we came here. They’re my new favorite berries.”

Confused, the mother turns to her child and plucks the pouch from her little hands and gives it to Seokjin. When Seokjin opens it, the faint sickly sweet scent hits Jungkook like a raging bull and by the looks of it, Seokjin and Jimin are reeling from it too.

“What’s that?” Jimin asks from behind them.

Seokjin measures the heft of the silk pouch on his palm, feeling small malleable spheres inside. Opening it, Seokjin holds his breath and plucks out one bruised orange berry. Dread creeps under his skin, colder than the gusts of wind outside.

“Fetch Namjoon.”

The townhall is less of a hall and more of an open gazebo, located at the center of village right under the bell tower. It used to be a site for an ancient sequoia tree but a summer storm blew its branches down, to the point that it became dangerous being around it.

Instead of uprooting the tree, their group decided to carve the townhall inside its trunk. Now, it stands a few stories tall with high ceilings and open doors and windows. If you stand at its entrance, you can see the village vegetable gardens behind it. The trunk’s carved with tree carvings, leaves and fruits, honoring the creature it’s built in. Usually, the beauty and spaciousness of the townhall brings a sense of calm to meetings but, with the crowd of worried parents in thick coats – it’s anything but.

“Calm down. Everybody! Calm. Down.” Namjoon’s booming voice brings the crowd to a silence as he makes his way to the center, where Seokjin and Jungkook stand. At the left corner of the townhall, Hoseok towers, keeping an eye out for his brothers while Yoongi sits in front of the crowd and Taehyung hovers over the second-floor balcony.

The small pause of silence is broken by a large man with muted red hair and vibrant blue eyes. He wears very thin clothes compared to those around him, and towers over others by almost two feet.

“I knew we shouldn’t have accepted outsiders this close to winter!” he exclaims, and Seokjin remembers him to be the father of the sturdy triplets he watched over. For a winter giant descent, he’s got a fiery temper and a warm heart.

Murmurs of agreement fill the hall, and suddenly, the cold melts away. From the center of the room, Yoongi watches almost amusedly at how Namjoon controls his temper against the mere thought of it the way he controls his fire – seething just beneath the surface, crawling all over the floors.

“And let them suffer a winter homeless?” Namjoon asks, calmly and yet all of them could see the faint smoke curling from his nostrils. “Shin-hyung, you should know how bad winter can be for children.”

The winter giant descent flinches and holds his younger daughter, the only one who didn’t get sick, closer against his knees. Beside him, his human wife huddles close, likely remembering the last winter they spent in the mountains before finding this settlement.

“That’s not what this village stands for.” Namjoon reminds the people, “It’s founded by us who were cast away, do we really want to turn into the very people who left us for dead?”

At this, everyone is silenced.

From his corner of the room, Hoseok grins. It’s almost amazing how far Namjoon has come, from a reluctant leader of a bunch of kids to one who commands not only people’s attention but also their loyalty and trust through competence and empathy. Hoseok’s sharp eyes flicker up where Taehyung is and catches a sight of a sheer film laying over the people. It doesn’t take a second for each and every one to sit down calmly.

Hoseok shoots the younger male a warning glare, to which Taehyung just shrugs and flutters his fingers with a motion.

That kid can be very terrifying.

“Now, thank you for coming at such short notice and at such a weather. But this is the easiest and fastest way to relay information given how valuable time is to us now that winter’s coming,” Namjoon begins and turns to Seokjin. “Jin-hyung, will you share what you found?”

Seokjin steps forward and produces one of the percyberries from the Yeseo’s silk pouch. “This is a percyberry. I’m sure you’re all familiar with this. They tend to grow along the river bend a few kilometers from here. It was used to dress flesh wounds during the war, but was discouraged from patronage because of its ill effects when eaten.”

Seokjin pauses and empties the pouch on the table in front of him. “It causes dizziness and headaches for adults and flu-like symptoms for children, that when left untreated may cause death.”

Gasps erupt in the townhall and Hoseok curses Seokjin’s flair for the dramatic.

“Death??”

“My baby!”

“BUT! Since we’ve been treating them since the week before with similar medicine that combat percyberry poisoning, your children will be fine. We still decided to call everyone here to ask if any other child have eaten one of these”

Yeseo said she picked over two dozens and gave it away as offerings of friendship to the children in town when she and her family arrived. There are ten sick kids in the healing hut right now, assuming they ate two each and Yeseo ate four (or so she says) it should be all accounted for, but it’s never a bad idea to be thorough.

With a quick check-in on the remaining village kids and after making sure they didn’t eat even a bite of it. The townhall moves to a different and yet related concern.

“While we can treat your children, we have to ask for your help as well,” Jungkook starts with a parchment of paper in his hand, “Due to the several days straight of using our supplies,  we’re running low on some roots and leaves, I have a list here with me. If you have any to spare, please let us know or drop it off the healing hut.”

It’s already near supper when the townhall dismisses. Seokjin left shortly after Jungkook  finished listing the supplies to attend to the children they left with Jimin while the rest of them accompanied Namjoon as he answers the concerns and questions of the settlers.

Cast under the shadows from the hearth, Seokjin and Jimin watch over the children, their eyes sharp and catching each and every breath from each one. They’ve just finished brewing and administering the tweaked formula of the cold medicine to the children and the results are already showing. Unlike the nights before, at least this time, they’re sleeping through the night.

All of them, except one – Yeseo.

They’ve already given her two doses in the span of six hours, and yet, there’s very little improvement. As Seokjin watches her toss and turn in her bed, he sighs, exhaustion evident in his shoulders.

“I wish I’d inherited my kind’s healing abilities. Instead, I’m just good looking.”

Jimin looks at his hyung’s wry smile and stays silent, knowing how rare the older male lets his guard down. Seokjin may be all jokes and self-confidence, but when it comes to being the village doctor, he’s wrought with insecurities and fears.

“I should’ve diagnosed her correctly earlier.” Seokjin bites his lip and clenches his fist against his lap. “I wasn’t looking hard enough.”

“Hyung, nobody would’ve guessed that it’s percyberry poisoning – it’s winter. Percyberries only fruit during spring. Nobody would’ve thought of it.” Jimin reaches out to unfurl Seokjin’s fist and curls his fingers around his, “Besides, you figured it out and you formulated the new medicine. It was just a mistake.”

Yeah, a mistake that can cause a child’s life. Seokjin almost replies. It’s his fear that although Yeseo looked only as worse as the other kids before even after eating four pieces of the berries, it doesn’t mean she’s in the same amount of danger. Percyberry poisoning can be a hidden devil – striking fast and in the dark. Seokjin doesn’t want to attend a six year-old’s funeral.

“She’s going to be fine, hyung. Look, why don’t you nap in the backroom? I’ll take first watch.”

Winter’s first steps arrive in their town just as the kids recover and go home to their delighted and relived families. All of them, except one.

“It’s been three days and all the other kids already got better. Tell us, what’s happening to our daughter?”

It’s noon and yet the windows rattle with the intensity of the winds. The sun has not been out since yesterday. The healing hut is empty of ill children except one and Seokjin could see her from the little window of the partition between the backroom and waiting room. Deathly pale and shivering underneath thick layers of blankets. Jungkook’s beside her while Jimin naps on one of the vacant cots.

Beside Seokjin, Namjoon answers Yeseo’s father.

“Our healers have administered the medicine continuously since three days ago, however, we think with the number of berries Yeseo consumed, it will be much more difficult for her body to recover.”

It’s a diplomatic statement, kind in a way but not as honest as the father would’ve liked. So, he turns to Seokjin, with red-rimmed eyes, surprised when he meets another pair lined with despair too. Oh, this descendant of faes is still so young in many ways.

“Fae son, I’m a descendant of the dryads, cousin, tell me the truth.”

Seokjin, sat across the man and his wife, straightens in his seat at the word. His inky black eyes flickers back to the sleeping child, trying to will the color to come back to her cheeks. But what is will against facts? “The toxins has reached her intestines and the medicine is only managing the symptoms at this point. With the amount of percyberries Yeseo consumed, I’m afraid she won’t make it through winter.”

A heart wrenching sob tears through Yeseo’s mother as she clutches her husband for support. Had she not been sitting, her knees would’ve buckled and slid her down to the floor. Her baby, her precious innocent baby dead before tasting a better life? No.

“Is there anything else we could do? Anything! Please. I can’t lose our baby.”

Yeseo’s mother is a wisp of a woman, short and slim and with grief etched to her face, Seokjin doesn’t expect the intensity with which she grabbed his wrists. Her husband beside her keeps his anguish inside him, quiet like a storm, trying to keep at least one of them stable.

Seokjin shuts his eyes and weighs his options. Ignoring the weight of Namjoon’s stare and the imploring eyes of Yeseo’s parents, he remembers back to last night when he spent countless of hours going through the old texts he’d gathered over the years. In one book lined with golden boughs, he found a procedure so promising… and yet so risky.

It’s a book previously owned by a pure human doctor. (Though Seokjin thinks he’s part fae, just that he didn’t know it. The book was practically a half-diary with all he wrote at the margins and he had many, many lovers and one really bad heartbreak) It told of a perceberry poisoning case during the war wherein a female doctor extracted the poison directly from the patient’s body using a medical technique harnessing nature’s energy while making use of a differently ratioed concoction of the antidote mixture. It said to be inserted straight into one side of the patient’s body like a bubble, and pulled through a deep cut at the other side. It was supposedly repeated until the patient starts to vomit clear saliva.

Seokjin isn’t a doctor or a healer. Not really. He never got the chance to apprentice for someone, nor did his family ever get the chance to train him. The only reason he became the village doctor was because he’s the only one with the slightest familiarity with sicknesses and cures, all learned from a brief stint as an errand boy in a rundown clinic when he was thirteen.

But that doesn’t matter – because at this moment, regardless of whether or not he’s qualified, he’s the only one who can even remotely make things better for this kid. And so –

“There’s one thing we could do, but—” Seokjin pauses, not wanting to give false blind hope to the couple. Outside the wind howls and batters the hut, and Seokjin could feel Namjoon radiating heat like a furnace beside him. “—but, it’s very risky. I’ll be honest, it’s going to be very dangerous but we can try an operation. It’s proven and tested by a doctor during the war—”

“Have you ever done it before?” Yeseo’s mother asks, already knowing the answer.

“No,” Seokjin admits, “But, if you agree to this, I will exhaust every resource in my possession to save your daughter. I swear it on the remnants of magic in my blood.”

Yoongi hasn’t believed in a god for so long.

His brothers think of it as something he just says, bitter old man down to his bones, they joke but, it’s not. How can it be when the world’s so cruel? Harsh and unforgiving. Whatever beauty the fates provide are just mere consolation to what it plans to take away.

He knows, because it’s taken too much from him too. Everything he got to keep he fought tooth and nail, and blood for. Never was it given or kept easily.

That’s why, even if the odds are stacked against them, he volunteers to help the sick kid’s father. As the village blacksmith and occasional craftsman, Yoongi absolutely refuses to build a child-sized coffin.

So, no, Yoongi doesn’t believe in gods, but as he tilts his head up and basks in the peeking rays of the winter sun – maybe, just maybe, he believes in luck.

Just after Seokjin’s suggestion, Namjoon immediately gathered his brothers for this mission: gathering as many percyberries as they can for the operation. The winds were howling then, frigid and unforgiving and so the two other dragon bloods were chosen. It was almost a fight against Jungkook, but he understood that his pride and desire to prove himself once again will always take a backseat against the good of the many.

It only took a quarter of an hour for them to assemble all they need, most of the time going to Yeseo’s dad who refused to not be included in the team. And because he was the one who was sure about where his daughter got the berries, Namjoon agreed.

The moment they stepped out of the village gates, the winds calmed downed and the sun peeked – luck is more powerful than any preparations.

“Yoongi, maybe we should talk to him.” Hoseok jogs up to the blacksmith as he nods to the dryad descent ahead of them. Unlike them, he’s wrapped tight in heavy fur, warding off the chill.

Yoongi eyes the giant of a man and sees the stiffness in his shoulder and remembers how tight-lipped he was during the whole journey even at dinner when they ate around the campfire Hoseok set up. “I don’t think he wants to talk, Hoseok.”

Hoseok, never one for silence and not acknowledging other people’s suffering, sighs. It’s not like he knows what to say either, but shouldn’t he at least offer hope? He opens his mouth to protest before being cut off by a wild gust of wind.

Yoongi once again tilt his face up to the sky, seeing it darken quicker than he’s ever seen. It seems like their luck just ran out.

“It’s just a half-hour journey from here!” the dryad descent calls out, his voice wrapped in desperation and fear. They all knew that the percyberries will not survive this type of blizzard – if it had survived the first steps of winter, that is. “We can make it if we run!”

Hoseok nods and runs ahead, and Yoongi once again, curses the non-existing gods.

Winter, has always been a challenge for you.

It’s not that you hate it, not really. Winter, after all, is an integral part to the cycle of life. Although heavily associated to death – spring, being rebirth – it is also rest. It is when everything slows down, when animals hibernate and recharge. If anything, it’s nature at its recovery.

Winter is also very beautiful. The way intricate snowflakes fall to the ground, covering the weary soil with a blanket of white. Or the way it gathers on top of trees and how the cold creates frost on window sills and fog around your breath.

You don’t hate winter, not at all.

It’s just so fucking cold.

Shivering, you trudge through the snow covered ground, you wince under your robe at how the cold penetrates your boots. Even with a heated robe, everything still feels cold down to your bones. Without even consulting the stars, you already know that it’s gonna be less of those picturesque winters you’ve had the past few years and more of a whole ordeal that you just need to survive.

And to survive, you need your supplies.

Turning just around the river bend, you let a small smile tug your lips at the sight of the bubbling river. It’s not a big river by any measure, but never in history has it frozen, allowing people – magical or otherwise – to survive on the fish that inhabits it during lean months.

It’s littered by giant rocks of all colors, some see through while the others reflect its surroundings. In spring, it reflects all the colors of the forest it hides in – all the reds, oranges, purples and greens of the flowers and trees, - making the river look as magical as the stories used to go.

Your mother used to tell you that it’s where mermaids and mermans sunbathe with their colorful tails and beautiful faces and wait for their human lovers and half-human children. You remember smiling giddy at the thought while your grandmother pulls you aside and tells you too how the pearls under the river were tears of said mermaids and mermans who were betrayed and killed by their lovers, simply because they were too beautiful – and no creature that beautiful ever remains loyal or so the mad men used to say.

Your grandmother always did know how to douse you with a cold bucket of water – literally and otherwise.

After a hop and a skip, and nearly slipping on one of the smooth rocks, you approach the nearly barren riverbank. Waving a hand, the illusion wavers like disturbed water and reveals several vibrant percyberry bushes. Under the cool light of winter, the orange berries shine like marbles.

Normally, you wouldn’t grow spring bushes in winter time. It’s one of the ways you’ve gone undetected for years but after the incident last month, your supplies have dwindled down to a measly two jars of the berries. You eye the healthy shrubs, eyebrows knitting together at the bald spot on one of the shrubs. Perhaps you should practice your growing spells more often.

Shrugging, you get to work. As you pick the berries with nimble hands, you wonder of the man you sheltered for a month.

He was handsome, perhaps younger than you by a few years. It was luck that you came across him at the edge of the forest. You rarely step out of it during busy seasons, when hunters are at their most abundant and busy. You’ve used almost all of your percyberry stocks on his wounds and as a tranquilizer to keep him sedated and unconscious for most of the month he was with you.

Handsome as he was, it wouldn’t do good for anyone to know where you are.

Distantly, you hear the whistle of the wind before a sharp gust threatened to knock you over the bushes. To your surprise, it was followed by sounds of huffing breath and heavy breathing.

Shit. Who in their right minds are out this far in the middle of winter?

Quickly, you scramble to pick the last of the percyberries and placed them in your basket before turning away. You pause and debate to whether or not to cast the illusion back but the crunch and slosh sounds against the wet earth had you murmuring a different spell before turning away.

Crossing the river is not an option. It’s too wide and too open, there’s no way to hide unless underwater and you don’t fancy being frozen to death.

Eyes darting around, your eyes catch a small cave hidden in the shadows of the bare winter trees. Quickly, you murmur a notice-me-not spell and watch as your footprints disappear as you run into the cave. You make your body as small as possible, your knees tucked to your chest and your hood wrapped around your body – finally, you murmur another spell as you disappear from sight.

From your position, you could see a group of three men appear by the bend. The first one is an older man, with stubble as white as snow and deep brown eyes. He breathes heavily as he trudges through the snow, seemingly looking for something or someone. His eyes catches your percyberry shrubs, and the anguish that takes over his face almost had your magic wavering.

The man’s knees hit the cold ground as despair breaks out of him in the form of a choked sob. The shrubs are empty, bare of leaves and fruits, and covered in snow. To hide your trace, your spell took away all it life energy and shrouded it with snow as similar as its surroundings.

From behind him, two thinly-clothed younger males approach cautiously. The taller one approached the older man with sympathy in his amber eyes, his eyes trained on the very same bushes. Even from the distance, you could tell that he’s not purely human.

You could always tell.

Knowing that, you double your energy into strengthening your spell and added one that will help you hear them from a far. By now, the winds are howling, beckoning a storm to come. The third man of the group is shorter than both of the first two men, but with eyes sharp and trained on the forest shadows.

For a moment, he pauses looking straight at you.

A few heartbeats pass before a huge gust of wind blows once again. You know he can’t see you, but you still hold your magic close to you, murmuring another set of spell to divert his attention.

“Yoongi, we need to go!” the taller man calls, and the man named Yoongi turns away from you and nearer to the sobbing man on the forest floor.

“No, no, no! There has got to be more shrubs here!”

The shorter man – Yoongi – bites his cheek and runs over to the other two. His brows are furrowed, and his jaw clenched tight as if readying to strike a blow. “There’s none. You and I both know that—”

Desperately, the dryad descent chokes and shoves the younger men off him. “Then let me die here.” How can he possibly face his wife, his daughter – his darling, precious daughter – his soon-to-be dead daughter—

Yoongi grabs the man by the neckline of his coat, dragging him up to his knees with his eyes looking straight into his. “You’re an idiot and a coward if for a second you’d think we’d agree to that,” the dragon descent lets out a puff of fire, watching it sizzle and disintegrate into the cold, “You plan to die ahead of your family to avoid suffering? Go ahead. But don’t do it while we’re around.”

The bitter words echo in your bones. The dread of realization dawning unto you – the empty spot in one of the bushes… but how? Who?

With that, Yoongi releases the older male and nods to Hoseok. “We have to find shelter. The blizzard’s coming, send word ahead to Seokjin – tell him to see what he could scavenge from the old greenhouse.”

Pausing, the blacksmith turns to the lost dryad who’s still staring at the bushes blankly. This is what he hates about hope. How easily it’s snuffed out by things out of your control, but perhaps living with his brothers has got Yoongi soft and so he offers this;

“It’s not over yet.”

After sitting out the blizzard in one of the old dens they found in the map, the three of them travel by foot until nightfall. It’s only a half-day’s away from their home, and Seokjin has already sent word via a messenger bird that they’ve gathered barely enough percyberries to continue with the operation.

That means there’s going to be an operation, yes.

And absolutely no room for errors.

Hoseok definitely doesn’t envy Seokjin right now. Across him, Yeseo’s father sleeps, as close to the campfire as he could without being burned. The ground is not comfortable, but it’s the best they could do at the moment.

“Did you see what I saw earlier?” Hoseok asks as he looks straight ahead into the fire he built. Beside him, Yoongi shifts and bends one leg to his chest, his back resting against the tree.

“Depends on what you saw.” The blacksmith replies, his eyes closed. Being a dragon descent has its advantages, like getting to control your body temperature if you try hard enough.

“You know what I mean.” The younger male sighs, not in a mood for a back and forth guessing game. “The ground beneath the shrubs, it wasn’t frozen.”

Hoseok almost missed it, too busy comforting the sobbing man earlier that day. But as he knelt beside the grieving father, he saw fresh earth peeking underneath the snow covering the shrubs. One sniff and he knew that the dirt was healthy and new, smelling so much like spring. It didn’t make sense because the shrubs were devoid of life, shriveled and breaking off into pieces as the snow covered them.

“It wasn’t.” Yoongi agrees, his eyes opening, lids heavy with contemplation. He remembers seeing the same thing and feeling the odd heaviness of someone watching them the whole time. It’s not the first time somebody slipped under their radar, but every time it happens, it’s always a bad sign.

“I sent a separate missive to Namjoon. With winter being as harsh at is right now, we won’t have any time to investigate, best be prepared for the worst.” Hoseok says, and Yoongi’s reminded why he was chosen to lead the security for their village. 

Despite Hoseok’s fun and flighty image, he’s unparalleled when it comes to tactics and maneuvers. His dragon encouraging him to protect his family and those close to them as much as he can.

Above them, the sky is dark and there are no stars in sight.

“You okay, hyung?” Jimin asks as he passes yet another polished glass to the older male. A glance at Seokjin could tell how exhausted the young man is. The moment the letter arrived from Hoseok, Seokjin and Jimin had gone out to the old greenhouse to scavenge percyberries.

What they found barely filled up a whole fruit bowl, most of them still small and barely containing the elements needed for the antidote mixture. But they have to work with what they have. And what they have is Seokjin, an old book and very limited resources.

Seokjin looks up from his notes and offers Jimin a tight smile. “I’d say I am but then I’d be lying.” There are bags under his eyes, and his skin has turned pale from the continuous sleepless nights he had either taking care of Yeseo or researching on the procedure that might potentially save her life. The procedure that will be taking place in less than an hour.

Yeseo’s been transferred to the backroom, which in turn was turned into a de facto operating room with boiling water prepared at one corner, courtesy of Namjoon, and towels and cloths at another. The mixture is bubbling in three of the cauldrons, and in the middle of the room is a tall bed, perfect for Seokjin’s height, illuminated by several candles.

“Hyung?” Jungkook’s head pops out from behind the door, “We just gave Yeseo the sedative. Are we ready?”

Seokjin stands and pulls out several basins, “As much as we could be.”

When Seokjin enters the backroom, he sees Yeseo’s parents huddled against the wall at the end of the bed where their only daughter lies. Her father hasn’t changed from his travelling clothes and there’s a telltale streak of tears dried on his face, similar to the fresh rivers flowing from his wife’s eyes. Seokjin looks at Jungkook and nods towards the couple. Instantly, Jungkook ushers them to sit down a distance away from their child, just so Seokjin has enough room to work.

The lack of percyberries that resulted from their escapade really hurt the plan. When Seokjin calculated just how many cauldrons he’d need, he came up with six and yet what they have is only three – or two and a half, if he’s being completely honest. Barely enough to clear out the toxins in the child’s digestive organs, let alone from her lungs and even her heart.

But, Seokjin found a similar technique from a different book that allows limited volumes of mixtures to be stretched when resources are scarce. It highly depends on control, something Seokjin has practiced for years. He used to shake at the thought of blood, but now, it’s only seen as something that needs to be done.

Behind him, Jimin enters with a basin of hot water where sharp tools are submerged to ensure cleanliness. He places it on one of the lower tables beside Yeseo and then stands still beside Seokjin, waiting for instructions.

The sedative should last for two hours, Seokjin calculates. That’s enough time to ensure that the child will not feel pain as he creates incisions and pulls out the poison directly from her organs. They don’t have time to waste.

“Jimin, give me the knife.”

With steady hands, Jimin hands him a small knife and watches as Seokjin creates a deep cut underneath Yeseo’s fourth rib. Blood oozes out and the smell penetrates the room. Quickly, Seokjin holds the wound close with one of the towels before gesturing Jimin to take over and hold the pressure. Seokjin then repeats it on Yeseo’s left side second rib.

Reaching over one of the basins filled with the antidote mixture, Seokjin focuses his deep seated magic over the water mixture. His palm is stretched wide over the basin, just a few inches above it. Slowly but surely, the water dances up to his palm, almost like it’s magnetized, wrapping itself around his fingers up until the basin empties.

Eyes wide with wonder, Jungkook and Jimin watch as their hyung breaks out a sweat injecting the antidote mixture into the incision he made on Yeseo’s left side. Yeseo’s small body begins to trash at the invasive procedure, much to her parents’ concern. Her limbs begin to rattle, shaking the table with its intensity.

“Jungkook! Hold her down! Go!”

As the wind howls outside, Jungkook quickly uses his strength and holds Yeseo’s arms down with his forearm, while his other hand cradles her small head. “I got her, I got her.”  

“Okay, don’t let go.” Seokjin instructs and injects more of the mixture into her body. He closes his eyes, visualizing where he wills the antidote to go. As it passes through her lungs, he sees how the mixture strips the organ of the poison and how it traps it within itself. Confident with his control, Seokjin reaches over Yeseo’s right side and draws the mixture out through the incision under her right rib.

He hears a soft gasp from the side of the room, as the mixture is suspended in mid-air, heavy with black goo. Eyes alight at the prospect of success, Seokjin turns to Jimin with renewed vigor.

“Pass me one of the basins, quick!”

Slowly, Seokjin releases his hold of the floating glob and it sloshes around the basin before settling. The goo settles at the bottom of the basin, looking every bit of malignant and terrifying in its quiet. This, this is what torments the young child on Seokjin table.

For a moment, Seokjin sees his reflection looking back at him from the surface of the poison he extracted. His eyes, though tired, are alight with hope and adrenaline.

With the possibility of doing something right.

But, then again, what is will against facts?

It is on hour three when things start to fall apart.

Seokjin’s hands are numb and his reserves are scraped raw. They were never deep to begin with, what with his lack of practice in the magical side of his heritage, but he’d thought he’d have at least enough. The last of the cauldrons lie beside him, tipped over with no remaining drop of the antidote inside and the wastes on the bins are just barely transparent.

There’s still so much left inside this girl’s tiny body, and Seokjin has nothing left to give.

Pulling the last of the mixture out of the incision on Yeseo’s side, Seokjin drops it unceremoniously on one of the remaining basins, his magic snuffed out.

“Is that all?” Yeseo’s mother whispers, her eyes trained on the basins filled with black goo. Seokjin lets out a shuddering breath, frustrated tears burning at the back of his eyes.

“It’s all we have.”

After hours of debating, and pushing against the harsh gales of the winter wind, the village gates peek around the dirt road. Large and imposing, it’s a sign of a stable settlement of perhaps a few generations.

To you, it’s a sign of danger.

When the men left, you rushed back to your little cabin and summoned your looking glass with urgency. And because nature is the witness of all things past, present and future, you squeezed one of the percyberries onto the river water and enticed it to show what it saw.

It showed you a little girl, accompanied with her parents. It showed you their curving eyes and mouths, smiling and joyous and loving the prospect of their new home. In her parents’ excitement, the child is left alone and trips over your bushes.

Children, with their open hearts and boundless imaginations, often trip into magic accidentally, no questions asked.

You saw how your illusion melted before her, her eyes rounding at the beautiful ripe berries. You saw how she picked handfuls of the berries, shoving it into her pockets and when that filled out, you saw her open a pouch and fill that too.

To your horror, you saw her eat one. Then another. And another.

And so you’ve come. Armed with your magic, shedding away the anonymity and safety that your distance afforded you through the years. Although fearful and wary, to you, it just comes down to two things: it was your mistake and it is a child.

Eyeing the guard posts by the gates, you take a deep breath and with tired limbs and wary eyes, you drop off the notice-me-not charm, pull of your hood and step inside the village gates.

Notes: Aaaand! Enter Y/N! Feedback is much appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!  So so far, here are the facts: - Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok are of dragon-descent - Jungkook is of werewolf descent  - Jin is of fae descent - Jimin is ??? - Taehyung is ??? 

#bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts imagines #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook #min yoongi #park jimin #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #taehyung x reader #hoseok x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #jimin x reader #fae seokjin #dragon namjoon #dragon yoongi #secret taehyung #secret jungkook #secret hoseok #secret jimin #witch reader #the lore of the forest #magical humans au #descendants of the magic au #this is one long ass world building i am tired

[earthendandinbetween]

This was literally supposed to be a quick prompt. But no. It’s so long. Why. What happened to me here.

Everything was loud, indistinct, too close, too far. Snow clumped together with blood and trampled footsteps from the battle, the only real distinction that he had infact won was the still retreating forms of the bonedeths in the distance.

It wasn’t really much of a true battle, more like a cowardly- stupidly pathetic infact – ambush. They had tracked the zigotons’ patrolling path and tried to pick them off like simple prey animals. ...Perhaps they would’ve, if they had accounted for his presence. He could feel enough pride that it was rather difficult for enemies to truly plan for his strength. It wasn’t like they knew how to fight against an akumapon, what with the two tribes being supposed allies and such.

Though, he had expected the commotion to have died down by now. There were still shouts, not easy to make out from his focus on his blurry vision, only really able to make out the puffs of breath that froze in the snow-field’s cold.  It wasn’t easy to get out of an ambush unscathed, he certainly expected a few hits. Some were deeper than others, but at least nothing was broken.

...He assumed such at least. The exhaustion and chill from the freezing temperatures made it difficult to tell anything anymore as he lowered down to kneel.

Just a moment. He’d be fine. He had survived much, much worse before.

A singular shout got a bit closer. His name, maybe? Probably.

He was too tired to move or acknowledge such. He didn’t usually like to acknowledge the little zigoton soldiers anyways outside of an order or two. They weren’t his troops, he held little interest towards them. Give him a minute to catch his breath, it’s fine. He’ll take them back to their general and they’ll probably plan some new stupid patrol path.

...Was it snowing again already?

Gods, he hated snow.

That was the last real conscious thought Kuwagattan had before collapsing. At least, that he could remember.

–

“He’s...Going to be alright, right?”

“Well, thanks to the others on the patrol, yes. The Snow-field can be unforgiving when one’s alone.”

“Poor dear...The zigoton scouts told me about the ambush...”

“Hm. I’ll have to plan with Gong for a new patrol route. Gathering Intel on our enemies is good and all- until things like this happen. I keep asking to send in one of the machines I’ve been working on, it could make the process so much safer.”

“It’s only a prototype, dear.”

“I know I know but-”

“I know, you’re excited, but--- Let’s save that for now, please. I don’t think a patrol route is really on his mind right now...”

“...You’re right. I’m just...Worried. You know that. I ramble when I’m nervous...”

The odd warmth and idle, soft chattering had slowly sunk into his regained consciousness, bringing with it a confusion and ache that lingered in the back of his skull. Where was he? It had to be familiar. He could recognize these voices, at least a little.

It took a moment as he squinted his eye open, blurry imagery of bricks, a desk, flames--- Ah. Part of the hideout. That seemed clearer now. One of the tents...shacks...buildings? Whatever stupid name the barracks were referred to. A mismatch of all three, really. It was dark, with only the warm glow of the small embers of the fire-pit bringing light in.

Well, at least he wasn’t freezing anymore. When had he fallen asleep? Or gotten back here for that matter? Last he remembered, the battle had just ended in the morning. This, this wasn’t morning. Dusk--- maybe. At least that guess was closer than the early morning sun. Did the scouts help bring him back? A little ridiculous, he would have been fine. He just needed a few moments and then he’d be right back on his feet again, like always.

Giving a soft groan as he moved, Kuwagattan shuffled in the thick fabric that he had been nestled in, cracking a few sore joints as he glanced about the bandages covering his form. There were an awful lot this time, almost shameful really. He was tougher than this, that was just a fact! Lousy cowards, hiding in the treelines instead of facing their own demises head-on. What good did ambushing even do for them in the end? It was the same result either way for the opposing tribe.

...The only thing the ordeal had done was plague him with an obnoxious stinging pain across his body, as well as wasting his time. If he wanted a battle, he would have gone to one. An entire day- just gone like that. The gall-

Where was his helm? Ugh, it had to have been that stupid Almighty that moved it. Anything just to be an obnoxious, soft hearted nuisance. He could mock her tone firmly in his head. ‘

He would be more comfortable without it!’ in her soft, annoying trill of a voice. Others would describe her voice as soft, kind, gentle. But to him it was all just high pitched chatter.

Great. He would have to reclaim his helm soon.

“Oh!”

Speak of the devil, and she will appear. Or whatever that saying was. He couldn’t care enough to remember. Moving his eye enough to see further into what he could only assume was a makeshift infirmary, the akumapon squinted at the two figures.

The irritant of a deity and...Of course it had to be Spiderton. Both pests he frequently had to deal with, even if the latter was only mildly less obnoxious. ...Very mildly. Maybe if he sunk further into the blanket, neither would pay him any mind. Or better yet, leave.

Calle offered a gentle wave as she spotted him, one he returned with a grunt of annoyance and roll of the eye. Not interested in the formalities. The two’s chatter resumed, quieter this time. His brow quirked slightly as the deity quickly shoo’d the spider-helmed zigoton out of the area, watching as he disappeared behind the cloth that closed off the outside world from view. Great. What ridiculous thing had she sent him off to do that he apparently wasn’t allowed to know?

“Stop starin’ at me,” Kuwagattan growled softly, not exactly up for his usual bite, “What do you want?”

“I was just worried,” Came the trill of a response, “I’m not staying for long.”

“Ugh. Good, get lost already” he hissed, “I can barely tolerate you when I’m not injured.”

Instead of the typical argument that would ensue between the two, typically resulting in the deity becoming annoyed and referring to him as ‘childish’ or ‘cruel’ before stomping off angrily, Calle simply creased her eye in worry as she dipped her head in silence. An abnormal response, not something he was used to at all from anyone. He knew the Almighty was soft hearted, willing to spare anyone and anything. He knew she did hold concern for him but--- without an argument or attempt to reach a mutual understanding first was not usual.

Had things really been that bad while he was out of it?

Couldn’t be. It was just a ridiculous display of patheticness. It didn’t matter, it kept her from speaking for now. That was fine by him.

...He wasn’t used to being cared for anyways. It didn’t matter.

Wordlessly, Calle stepped towards the cloth entrance, pulling it open without so much as a hum or chirp of wishing his swift recovery like she usually did when she found even a simple injury on him or others. A silent respect of his wishes to leave. He got a glance at the sky as she left, it was much darker than he had first thought. Truly, an entire day left wasted. Of course, just his luck.

Silence reigned, with only the crackling of the fire present as his gaze wandered about the unusually roomy area. Where even was this located in the hideout? He surely hadn’t seen it before. A vague recollection of a project the others were working on floated by his memory. ...Maybe this was that project. It would make sense, to build an infirmary of sorts. That, however, wasn’t what the akumapon was looking for right now. As he reached a hand idly to the soft tangle of fur on his head, he grumbled in annoyance, right now he was looking for a particular accessory of his that was unceremoniously stolen.

Laying on the slightly crowded table was the object in-question. Perfectly intact and completely unnecessary to remove. It didn’t exactly matter now, as he slowly stood with a grimace, popping his knees softly to try and shake the pain out of them. ...Might as well just drag the blanket with him and settle over there. He truly did not feel like playing a game of back and forth right now. He was not in the state to do such, slowly dragging his body across the room, flinching at every jostle of one of the wounds. ...They were much deeper than he had first assessed. What a shameful thing, to let himself show such weakness in battle. He would need to do better in the future.

It hadn’t taken long to retrieve his helm back to its rightful spot, tucking away a few loose strands of troublesome fur back under the accessory as he adjusted it, but the action certainly had felt longer than needed. The silence was welcome at first, slowly ebbing away into boredom and the urge to fidget about once more. This was why he hated vigils, typically. Standing around and accomplishing nothing, not even the tiniest bit of entertainment.

Kuwagattan was aware he was always seen as brash and stubborn, but he knew better than to strain himself currently. He’d come to regret it later if he did. He had done such in the past, albeit in a much weaker form, and it only resulted in a much longer rest time in the end. He could handle the boredom.

Instead, he put more of a focus on the surroundings, adjusting the thick blanket back over his own shoulders with a contented hum. The area was cluttered, clearly not entirely finished on its interior. A few bricks lay loose on the floor by the fire-pit, with tools and various maps laid about on the table. It was probably a hasty move to bring him here was the assumption. Warmer, most likely as the snow-fields could be intense. Ugh. Snow. He remembered being dragged through the Bryun snowfields and ice forest back over the bridge. He hated it then, but not nearly as much as the Sullied Tears. The storms were much more intense here, casting even part of the Field of Angry Giants in a thick ice at least once every other week.

This whole place was insane, now that he thought of it. Things were much more simple back home.

...Partially because he wasn’t expected to do much else than fight and die. That, that was most likely the major factor of not noticing how dangerous things had gotten in the world.

In the end, the general wasn’t given much time to dwell on that subject. Maybe a sign to keep the past in the past or---some weird thing he was often told or thought about on his own.

The cloth marking the entrance had moved slightly, causing him to squint in predetermined annoyance. His pupil formed a thin slit to show that whoever was here to bother him, that it was not welcome, and that it would be best to leave.

“Evening,” The voice was low, and yet even with a singular word the tone still was laced with a clear concern.

Almost immediately, the akumapon let his shoulders drop as the now identified stranger entered, allowing the curtain-like fabric to fall back into place. Soft footsteps followed, approaching him with an air of caution. Something he knew was not directed at him, just more of a mannerism picked up over years of battle.

Ah. Someone he could tolerate.

“Hey,” Kuwagattan offered a ‘grin’ as he adjusted the hold on the blanket, “I’m surprised you’re not..uh...Keeping watch or something. Isn’t it late?”

Gong stayed silent for a moment in response, taking a slow seat directly infront of the other, pupil turned away to avoid his gaze and brow furrowed. His eye was glossy, swimming with multiple thoughts he most likely wouldn’t say out loud, but were still clear. He hated these moments. Hated the soft looks and attempt at good advice to keep himself safer next time. He didn’t need to be babied, be patronized---

He didn’t need to know he made someone worry so stupidly over himself. And deep down, he didn’t want to acknowledge that he felt guilty over never listening to the others. He hadn’t made a mistake this time, it was a true ambush where quick thinking was needed. What could he possibly be chastised on this time?

“Don’t look at me like that,” He grumbled, “I’m not in the mood for another conversation about my battle plans.”

“No, I’m not here for that,” the zigoton half whispered, “My scouts told me how well you had protected them. Not a scratch on a single one of them.”

Kuwagattan huffed proudly, giving a more smug, prideful look as he responded, “Well yeah. I said I would look after your troops when I left, didn’t I?”

“Hm,” Gong dipped his head slightly in a nod, “Of course, I had no doubts of such to begin with. I just--- I had not expected an ambush, especially of that size for such a small patrol group. I suppose this entire time I’ve...let my worries wander. About you.”

The akumapon paused his quip he was about to speak. Typically this would be where the two would prod fun at each other and laugh off the danger, like any other time the other was harmed in a fight. They had both faced death and returned stronger from it, they could handle just about anything. This really wasn’t much different from a typical battle, so why the dire atmosphere?

The tone was all wrong. This was too serious for his liking, not a conversation he wanted to be apart of.   He allowed himself to shrink further into the fabric draped around himself, gaze darting away from the tateton as he heard him clear his throat to continue.

“I know that you are--- Not used to being shown concern for your well being. Kharma did not treat you with much respect as a general and--- gods know how that star treated both you and Makoton as disposable pets. I just wish that you would not push yourself like you still need to prove you are worth belonging.”

“I thought you weren’t here to chastise me,” Kuwagattan muttered, trying desperately to chase away the pushing guilt and just get away from the subject, “I can handle myself.”

“I know you can,” Their eyes met for just a moment, “You know yourself best, after all, and you will follow any path you see fit. These….these are just my own worries and thoughts, especially after today.  We all care an awful lot about you here, this isn’t like the akumapon tribe, not by a longshot. Perhaps not even like in our old territory, either.”

“They ‘care’, sure,” the beetle-helmed general huffed, sarcasm biting through that led to vague annoyance,“Whatever. You can go now.”

“I’m tired of you acting like you’re indestructable!” Came the snapping, surprisingly harsh tone thrown his way, “I did not track you down and face you alone over the bridge because I needed another soldier. I did it because you deserved to have a chance to do something other than be expected to waste your life in an unwinnable battle. You can act crude and sarcastic about the rest of them but you cannot say to my face that I don’t care or that I do not know what I am talking about.”

Kuwagattan paused before he could even will himself to utter a word. His arm twitched nervously as he  thought of any comeback or way to guide this somewhere else. Away from the concept of his ever need to prove his strength to everyone and anyone. To avoid being soft.

...He had not wanted to push the one being in this camp that he truly tolerated enough to give even a fleck of vulnerability to, and the guilt clung uncomfortably heavy to him. He hated it. If he kept quiet, maybe the other would leave and things would go back to normal by morning. It had to, right?

Hands gripped the outer section of the almost sort-of cocoon he had made of the blanket, causing the akumapon to jolt slightly, gaze finally lowering to the other general. The glossy look in his eye had only increased, leading into a stray tear or two. This...wasn’t right. This was never how their conversations had ever gone in the past. Why was it like this now?

“Why won’t you let me help you?” The burst of anger had quickly turned into a pained, hurt tone that was trying to hold back a worse choke-up, “Why won’t you let anyone help you? I don’t want to lose you, not again. There’s so much left for you here.”

Kuwagattan waited for a further word, a snap that he was being foolish, how to fix it, how to plan better. Anything that he was used to hearing, maybe an odd saying or metaphor, but he was left with the silence. Any conversation had stilled, and the only real way he could tell the other wasn’t about to up and leave was still the tight grip held onto the fabric.

He’d rather be shouted at, questioned for his mindlessness, told not to be stupid and not to ruin a plan. Anything but being left with his own thoughts right now.  The ever present worry of showing vulnerability or weakness, the fear that such would make him been seen as not as worthy as others. That if he was not always striving to crush his foes that they would up and walk over him. Or that those he was told to defend would up and leave.

The presence of what a second death might mean, and that the slightest of hesitation could bring that upon him.

It didn’t make sense. Not at all. To be encouraged to feel anything other than a dull rage, an urge to fight for a tribe that insisted it was in everyone’s best interest. He wasn’t good at having a choice, he just fell back into his old habits of defending without much thought.

Yet it had also grown so differently here. More open. Friendlier.

And he couldn’t handle such.

It felt like a ploy to get him to care, to feel like he could simply be without having to defend his worth at every angle. To be vulnerable to strike his pride down and lose everything he had begun to work for. He had been shown enough that leaders did not care for him, and that most of a tribe would not remember his name.

...He hated this. He hated it.

His body shuddered instinctively. His views had been challenged and though he had thought once or twice about it, he still had kept himself shut off. He wasn’t allowed to care so much like this. He couldn’t figure out why, in the end, that he wasn’t allowed to. It was just how it had always been before.

Kuwagattan had often thought of letting himself simply be... it just never made any sense. Clearly, if this was all he had ever known and been taught, it was all he was.

Without his gruff attitude, rage, and strength…What would be left of him then? A shell? A stranger?

...Would he like to be a stranger? Something different? Not wholly different, mind you, but with less of a bite towards those that only meant him well. What would he have to really leave behind to do such?

He wasn’t sure. He hated himself for being so unsure.

His body shuddered again, and with that his eye watered without being able to mask it, nor stop it from happening. ...He would succumb to this weakness. For now.  He was being shown vulnerability from his companion, it was possibly only fair to do the same. He...did not want to lose his second life, either. Not now that he had more of a choice, whatever it may be.

It was more of an involuntary motion, but the akumapon made no conscious effort to stop himself as he  lowered slightly, pressing his face halfway against the base of the smaller general’s helm, fur brushing across his face softly. Familiar, comforting almost.

“...I’m sorry,” His speech was so much softer than he anticipated, almost foreign to himself despite it being clearly his own voice, “I’m...I’m no good at all of this...Changing, I mean.”

“...You’ve certainly come further than I’m sure you thought you would,” Gong’s response was barely audible, muffled as he adjusted himself a bit more comfortably, “You would not have admitted to this in the past.”

He wouldn’t have. He was sure of that. The general wouldn’t have even questioned for a second that he had done anything wrong, that what he was doing was anything but correct. Yet, here he was. Feeling guilt for causing worry. Something he once never even gave a second thought to, since worry thrown his way was so rarely shown. And even then, it was less personal and more of a worry of losing numbers and strength.

This. This was much different. More personal.

Kuwagattan should’ve expected as much, he had heard the term friend spoken to him a few times here and there, but the concept never really stuck. That someone would really want him around.

He wasn’t sure if he would often set aside his pride and facade like this. But, he wanted it to stick this time around. That he also cared, that he understood the risk and the worry. That the effort spent on him wasn’t in vain.

It was just showing it that made it so difficult.

“Yeah I guess so,” The pause he took in the middle of his sentence was unusual. He typically thought of his responses quickly, this was so much slower, “I-- I do appreciate what you say to me. It’s just hard to….accept it...I guess. I don’t know.”

“I understand, of course I do...You were not taught well. I should have been there more to help before.”

There was a twinge of anger. Not at Gong, not in the slightest, just the wording, the self put blame. The other general did this far too often with others. A blame that he is always the last line to catch a disaster before it happens.

...Both of them were pushed to be something more than just a general. He vaguely understood the worry with the zigoton tribe. They needed a strong leader when their queen was not enough, and she sought after strength as well to keep enemies at bay. They hadn’t seen something quite as dangerous before. Thus, the two were set up from the beginning for such.

After that...that was when he felt any comprehension ended.

With a sigh, he moved one arm from his cocoon of blanket, using it to pull Gong in closer to himself. It was the only real comforting thing he could think of other than words.

He wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work. He was never one for comforting or to be comforted.

“...Not everything is your problem, you know,” Kuwagattan muttered softly, “Nor should you make it your issue. Things can just be.”

“Hm, and yet I still feel as though, if I had done better-”

“...What difference would it have made anyways? It would’ve played out nearly the same.”

“I suppose you’re right. At least here, there was a chance to set things right.”

A chance to set things right. He understood that, at least, when he was first asked what he truly believed in. He wasn’t ever really able to answer that question before. Maybe he believed in this world being saved to use that second chance better than he had so far.

It wouldn’t make sense to leave it behind in ruins. Not really.

“Yeah. I guess,” the akumapon flinched slightly when a hand came up to flatten a bandage that had become bunched up on his side, “I think--- I think once things are back to normal I can focus on--- I don’t know. Figuring things out.”

“Of course. I can’t imagine the stress has been good for anyone’s thoughts.”

“...But if I let myself go –ugh--- soft….What would be left of me then? This is all I have.”

There was a slight shift in movement, followed by a much calmer laugh and a soft pat to his forehead.

“Changing does not mean you’ll lose all parts of yourself,” Gong responded, tone having changed from the hurt he had heard before, “Besides. Whatever you become, I’m sure you’ll be alright in the end. Give yourself some credit, my friend.”

“Hm. You think so?” The idea of still being himself was a comforting thought, being a complete stranger to himself was….Too much, “Think we’ll still be friends by then?”

“I’m very certain of such. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

The akumapon gave an amused snort, quirking his brow in question with a ‘grin’, “All of them? You sure?”

“If you want me to be there, then yes.”

“Well, remember that when you get sick of me then! You’re stuck with me now,” It was odd to feel more at ease as he tightened his arm around the other just slightly.

“And you, General Kuwagattan, are stuck with me. We are both equally stubborn, you know.”

Oh yes, the akumapon was very very aware of such, if previous conversations and sharing of views was anything to go by. Admirable at times, for the both of them he presumed. To be passionate for something, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what he was so passionate about.

...

“Y’know, Gong…I’m really glad you’re here.”

#Writings (oneshots) #Stubborn Beetle (Kuwagattan) #Wise General (Gong) #Loyal Almighty (Calle)

[always5hineee]

Depreciation- Chapter 9: Reader Insert

Chapter warnings: Intense or adult themes

Word count: 1715

-----

       The trial date was not a pleasant one. The entire night before and the morning of, her stomach was turning violently, causing her to avoid eating any breakfast. She knew it wasn't good for her, but it couldn't be helped. If she threw up in court, she could be ejected, which is the last thing she needed. She called the real lawyer as soon as possible to make sure their connection was adequate.

       This would be the hardest part for her. She needed to do everything he told her down to the tiniest details. WayV's lives hung in the balance. She hadn't been able to arrange a meeting with them before the events, so she would just have to hope they were prepared for the things to come. The last she'd heard, Henry had been revived, but he was still refusing to eat, only accepting a slight drink of water after basically being forced to ingest it. They had put him on an IV for a few hours, but he was still weak.

       She only realized a few hours before the trial that she didn't have anything to wear. Going into her room, she noticed that most of the clothes Lucas had provided to her were jeans, sweatpants, and t-shirts. None of those were really quite appropriate for such a serious occasion. The women's wardrobe downstairs were sealed up, which left her with only one dress out and available for her to use... the blue one.

       With a vile taste in her mouth, she pulled it on, looking at herself in the mirror as she recollected the last time she'd worn it. Thankfully, it had been cleaned since, but it still carried awful connotations. There was no choice, she had to suffer. Putting on sensible makeup and gathering her things, she made her way to the courtroom. When she arrived, there were only a few minutes left before the trial. This was her intention. While it may have paid off to be earlier, she knew she wouldn't be able to stomach it.

       She was seated near the band at the front of the room, although she was meant to be active during the trial, so she didn't really have a chance to talk to them. She glanced over once, feeling all of their eyes sliding over her form, giving her the chance to see Kun mouth a slight, 'you'll be fine'. At least, that's what she saw. Before she knew it, opening statements were underway.

       "Your honor," the lawyer from the discovery period stated boldly. She was already annoying Y/N, to the point where she had to clench her fists out of sight to keep from seeming stressed. "I intend to prove that these five men, as well as their late and hospitalized associates, are guilty of the charges against them. These include harassment, assault, battery, kidnapping, rape, murder, and human trafficking, as was read to them along with their rights upon their arrest." The judge nodded, accepting this as an adequate opening statement.

       "You may call your first witness."

       "We'd like to start by questioning Qian Kun." The questioning went on for what felt like an hour to Y/N. The prosecution methodically called up every remaining member of WayV, one by one running through the facts again and again. She was sure the jury had to be sick of hearing the same story by now, but it was evident she was looking for a loophole. The man in her bluetooth agreed as much. What she didn't expect, though, was the first witness after that.

       "Next, I call Y/N (L/N) to the stand." Eyes widening, she heard the man in her ear whisper, objection.

       "Objection!"

       "On what grounds?" The judge asked.

       "The tribunal has proper objection when the trier of fact may be confused or misled by a lawyer serving as both advocate and witness. The opposing party has proper objection where the combination of roles may prejudice that party's rights in the litigation. A witness is required to testify on the basis of personal knowledge, while an advocate is expected to explain and comment on evidence given by others. It may not be clear whether a statement by an advocate-witness should be taken as proof or as an analysis of the proof."

       Basically, what she was saying was that, by using her as a witness, the lawyer would be confusing the jury on which parts of her arguments were testimony, and which were legal advocacy. It was a valid argument, and she had already gained the permission to act as an advocate by the tribunal, (a fancy word for the court). Therefore, it was well within their rights to object.

       "Objection sustained, for the time being." The judge agreed. "Let the record show that, should your testimony become integral to the case, the objection will be reevaluated." She nodded curtly in thanks.

       Annoyed, but not giving up, the lawyer continued to go through witnesses. The next ones were women Y/N had never seen before in her life. There were a total of four, all of varying ages. She found it difficult to remember any of their names. As far as she picked up, the first two had been sold into slavery and escaped their masters, one had been supposedly attempted upon, but not caught, and the final claimed to have been raped by YangYang of all people.

       "I would like to cross-examine the witnesses." Y/N stated as the trial continued. Speaking to the first girl, she kept her cool. She didn't have a choice in this moment but to follow every direction, take note of every answer and movement. She was starting to wish she had eaten. Still, now wasn't the time to think about this. There was a good- no, a near 100% chance at least one of these witnesses wouldn't hold up in court. She just had to figure out which one.

       The first and second were the most difficult. With similar, yet vague stories about being picked up in seedy areas, thrown into a van, and suddenly being awoken under the direction of a new master, it was nearly impossible to confirm or deny their honesty. While they were under oath, words were easily brushed a side. Hell, WayV was doing it right now.

       The fourth witness was where she started to get lucky. The man in her earbud told her to demand a medical examination in regards to the rape, and she almost immediately recanted her charges. This didn't look good for them, and the jury was swaying. The final, most pivotal testimony, though, was the third. This girl, around the age of 20 or so if she had to guess, had claimed to have almost been kidnapped at a WayV concert, but got away. Thankfully, she had someone on the outside able to pull her any details she wanted. This could be her ticket.

       "Miss, can you tell me exactly what happened on the night in question?" Sniffling with a fair amount of dramatics, she pushed her faded green hair away from her face. She needed to get her roots redone, her makeup was a walking disaster, and her outfit screamed koreaboo. Not only that, but her little show was basically terrible.

       "Yes... I went to go see WayV in Seoul because I am-" She paused, letting her eyelids flutter. "I was one of their biggest fans. At the end of the show, I went to go look around, because I wanted to experience it for as long as possible. I found the entrance to the back parking lot, and who did I find there but Xuxi himself!" The use of his name- especially one that wasn't his stage name- by this trash? It made her sick to her stomach. Still, she continued.

       "Go on?"

       "He pushed me up against the stadium wall and asked me if I wanted to get on the tour bus with him. Of course I said yes, but when we got on, I noticed like, five other girls! Of course, he didn't like any of them as much as me, but it was super fishy, so I tried to leave. He grabbed me and told me that I couldn't go, so I jerked my arm away and ran for dear life!"

       So much for being a great lawyer- the prosecution had really put this clown up here? As a serious witness? She became more confident as she saw the jury's faces fall and scrunch, evidently feeling the same way about this girls as she did. Now for the closer...

       "Miss, I'll remind you that you're under oath. And in light of that, I'd like to put forth these facts: on the night in question, exactly twenty four minutes after the closing song, the entirety of WayV was escorted to the front foyer for a two-hour fansign, giving them a direct alibi for your timeframe backed by hundreds, if not thousands of witnesses." The judge's eyebrows raised as she waited for the witness' statement. When none came, the judge called the room's attention.

       "Lying under oath is a federal crime that could be met with a probation, fine, or a prison sentence up to five years. You will be taken for further investigation, and your rights will be read to you." Y/N suppressed a smile as the girl was escorted through the main floor of the courtroom. She knew she should be professional, leave it at that, but she couldn't help it. Just before the girl exited through the side door, Y/N yelled,        

       "And keep Lucas's name out of your mouth!" With a slight murmur starting anew in the room, the judge slammed the gavel onto the desk.

       "Order in my court! Miss Y/N, may I remind you that you are at risk of being held in contempt?"

       "Yes, I apologize." She quickly muttered, already embarrassed by the action. As she said this, though, the other lawyer smirked, stepping up.

       "Your honor, we'd like to speak to one more person, if that's alright."

       "Of course, the trial may continue." Nodding the lady thanked her, spinning around to face the faces in the seats.

       "The prosecution calls Wong Yuk-Hei to the stand."

Go to Chapter 10

#nct #nct x reader #nct fanfiction #nct fanfic #wayv #wayv fanfiction #wayv fanfic #wayv x reader #kun #hendery #xiaojun #winwin #yangyang #ten #lucas #mafia #criminal #crime #mafia au #criminal au #crime au #kpop #kpop x reader #x reader #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic

[smugsmythe]

The One With the Enervation

Date: May 22nd, 2017

Location: Blaine’s school & Seblaine’s apartment

Who: Blaine Anderson & Sebastian Smythe

Notes: Blaine wears himself too thin so Sebastian takes him home to take care of him.

en·er·va·tion /ˌenərˈvāSH(ə)n/ noun a feeling of being drained of energy or vitality; fatigue. "a sense of enervation"

Blaine Anderson:

To say it had been an incredibly long few weeks and that Blaine was exhausted would be two vast understatements. Between work, school, Sebastian’s health, and his secret second life as Nightbird, Blaine was bound to collapse any moment from exhaustion. 

That’s what nearly happened one day while he was in the library with one of his classmates, discussing their lesson plan and future lesson plans they’d like to have in their own classrooms when he suddenly began to feel out of it. His mind was hazy and the room felt like it was spinning. It had happened to him a few times before, he’d gotten to his breaking point when spreading himself too thin and he would faint. He would wake up with his ex-husband hovering over him and trying to wake him up, having no recollection of what happened.

He slapped at his face gently as the girl next to him asked if he was okay. He assured her that he was fine, he had just felt faint for a moment. She didn’t buy he was fine, judging by the way all of the color completely washed away from his skin. Assuring her he was fine once more, Blaine stood up to show her and ended up on the floor, his legs weakening under his weight. That’s when she suggested they call Sebastian to come get him. Blaine insisted they shouldn’t bother him and tried to go about his business. 

It was about five minutes after the girl had left that he’d gotten a text from his boyfriend, causing him to sigh and roll his eyes. 

Sebastian Smythe: 

Although there had been multiple occasions where Sebastian could tell Blaine was wearing himself thin, he didn’t realize the severity until it was clearly too late. Blaine had nearly passed out from pure exhaustion. Sebastian felt horribly for not having paid more attention when they were at home and Blaine had left early for his morning classes.

After having received a call from a concerned classmate/friend followed by a mild text argument, Sebastian made the executive decision to pick Blaine up from school early and take him home. The same way Blaine had taken care of him after his epileptic episode, it was time for Sebastian to step up to the plate. He was more than ready to be the boyfriend Blaine needed.

Only minutes after Blaine had agreed to be picked up, Sebastian raced over with a speedy taxi although he wished he could’ve just sped over on foot. He’d told Blaine to wait for him inside the school but he pointed out his boyfriend to the taxi driver. “Goddammit, Blaine...” Sebastian growled under his breath as the car pulled up in front of Blaine who was sitting on a stoop that led into the school. “Hey, stoop kid, I told you to wait inside!” He told him, jogging up to Blaine and kneeling down to meet him. One glance and he could tell Blaine was sick.

Blaine Anderson:

The last thing Blaine had wanted to do was worry his boyfriend. He’d been through enough and had enough stress on him between having such a bad seizure and focusing to write his article about Nightbird. No matter how much he insisted he was fine, Sebastian wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

With a heavy sigh, Blaine gathered his things from the library and gave in, going outside to wait for Sebastian. He didn’t want to make the other search for him, it was bad enough he was coming all this way to get him when he could literally make it home himself. He sat there with his head in his hands, trying to take some deep breaths. The longer he sat there the more tired he felt. When he heard Sebastian’s voice he looked up and raised his eyebrows, giving a half smile. “And I told you not to come get me.” He chuckled before moving to stand up, swaying a little and losing his balance and stumbling off the stairs a little.

Sebastian Smythe: 

Sebastian luckily didn't need to use his powers to be quick enough to catch his falling boyfriend. “You're a feisty one even when you're sick,” he teased, wrapping an arm around the smaller man's waist and helping him into the taxi. Once they were seated, Sebastian placed his hand against Blaine's forehead. “You're warm.” With the click of his tongue, Sebastian pulled Blaine in to rest against him. “You've been overdoing it lately, killer. It's straight to bed with you when we get home.” Sebastian spoke in a playfully stern manner, serious though he wanted to be clear that he wasn't upset. Since Blaine was still awake and talking, Sebastian wasn't extremely worried-- especially now that they were on the way home.

Still, Sebastian needed to remain vigilant tonight and if that meant skipping the rest of the work day to focus on Blaine then by god, he was going to do just that. Already Sebastian was thinking of making some of Blaine's favorite dishes-- that were also easy to eat when sick-- so he could cook up a storm while the other was getting his rest.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine chuckled when Sebastian called him feisty, crinkling his nose as he was led into the taxi. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his full weight into his boyfriend and closed his eyes for a moment before letting out a soft whine. “I’m not warm, I’m fine,” he protested through a yawn, his body feeling extremely heavy as it thrummed with exhaustion. “Alright, alright, I’ll go to bed. But you have to stay with me.” The shorter bargained, feeling that if he could keep Sebastian in bed with him he would be able to rest without worrying about the other. 

“I almost fainted today.” He confessed, though the other already knew, his face scrunching up into a frown. “I don’t like the way that feels.” Blaine turned his face to nuzzle against Sebastian’s neck in an attempt to get closer. “I wonder if it is similar to when you have a seizure.” He mumbled, raising his eyebrows. “I suppose I’ve never told you this about myself, hm? That when I get overly tired I tend to faint. The last time it happened, Kurt told me I hit my head and was out for a concerning amount of time. Thankfully nothing bad.” He let out a bitter laugh. “He didn’t even bother calling 9-1-1 or anything, he just let me stay out until I woke up. I took myself to the doctor when I couldn’t get rid of the headache it’d given me.” Blaine rolled his eyes to himself, thinking of the time he’d gone to Santana and told her about the event, she told him then it was way past time to kick his husband to the curb.

Sebastian Smythe:

“Of course I’ll stay with you,” Sebastian promised. He’d stay with Blaine until he was asleep and then do everything in his power to make sure everything at home was taken care of. With him being the Flash, everything could be done rather quickly, however, so Sebastian was looking forward to spending a lot of time with his recovering boyfriend in bed.

He listened quietly as Blaine told him how this wasn’t a first-time occurrence. When Blaine revealed that it had happened previously in Kurt’s presence wherein the latter did nothing to help in such a concerning situation, Sebastian didn’t feel an ounce of surprise. Instead, all he felt was anger for the man that Blaine once called "husband”. Sebastian swore under his breath and huffed, thinking of leaving another fiery bag of dog poo on Kurt’s front door when he had the time. “I won’t let that happen to you, Blaine. If you’re not feeling better after some sleep, we’ll go to the doctor to get you checked out. But hopefully it won’t come to that.” He rubbed Blaine’s back as he assured him, chewing on the inside of his lip. 

Blaine was only a little sick and Sebastian was already so worried; was this how Blaine felt whenever he was having a seizure or a dizzy spell? Sebastian made a mental note to do his best to not give Blaine any reason to worry in the future. “I’m mostly dizzy before a seizure and then have an awful headache afterwards; it’s not… the worst, I guess. I don’t know. I feel like it’s worse for you since you have to watch me have it.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine smiled to himself as he nuzzled his face against Sebastian’s neck, humming softly. He was feeling more content already. “You’re such a good guy, Seb. Mm’lucky to have you.” Sebastian was such a better boyfriend to him than Kurt ever was as his husband. “You’re like this really bright silver lining after being in a dark, cold, cave for so many years.” He mumbled tiredly against the taller’s skin as he took a deep breath.

Nodding gently, Blaine sighed. “Fainting feels dizzy at first and then I black out for a little bit. It’s definitely not as bad as a seizure but I imagine the first part feels similar.” The shorter yawned as he frowned, thinking of the times he’d watched his boyfriend have a seizure and how scary it was. “Watching it is awful, I hate seeing you like that. It’s...really scary.” He explained, shaking his head gently almost as if trying to shake the image from his mind. 

Sebastian Smythe: 

A fond smile graced Sebastian's lips as he listened to how Blaine described him. His boyfriend had such a way with words, even on the verge of passing out. "More like I'm the light at the end of the tunnel," Sebastian boasted, thinking rather highly of himself-- especially when compared next to Kurt. "And that's a cave or tunnel we're keeping you far, far away from for as long as I can help it."

Sebastian frown mirrored Blaine's as they both thought back to the times whenever Sebastian had suffered a seizure. Sure, Sebastian was a bit scared leading up to the episode but blacking out made everything a bit easier to cope with for him. He couldn't even imagine the wreck he'd be if he had to watch Blaine suffer the same fate. "Well, hopefully the dosage of meds I'm taking will keep me from having anymore of those seizures. I can't have you worrying and stressing over me when I'm trying to take care of you," Sebastian claimed with resolution, pressing a kiss to the shorter man's forehead. "Rest your eyes and I'll let you know when we're home, okay?

Blaine Anderson:

“Mmkay,” Blaine mumbled as he settled a little more against Sebastian. His entire body was buzzing with exhaustion and he couldn’t relax. Shifting a little bit as the cab turned a corner, Blaine whined. His tiny body was extremely tense and uncomfortable- it was beyond exhausted by the time they reached home. 

The shorter was quiet as they made their way up to their apartment, only making pitiful sounds when he moved a certain way that his body disapproved of. Once they were inside, Blaine made his way into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes as he opened up the fridge to get a bottle of water. “Gonna grab water and then-” he paused as he pushed the door closed, the dizziness that he’d been feeling the whole day increasing. He was feeling worse with every passing moment, he felt feverish. He was going to faint. “Seb,” He called out as he opened his eyes, his vision going dark. “I’m gonna-” He dropped the bottle and moved to sit on the floor to make sure he didn’t hurt himself more than necessary if he actually passed out. A few more moments passed and his hearing faded out before he passed out completely on the floor of the kitchen. 

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian didn't like Blaine moving around on his own but he'd managed to make it through the lobby just fine so a trip to the kitchen should've been alright-- or so Sebastian had assumed. While Blaine had made his way to the refrigerator, Sebastian had been rummaging through the pantry looking for some of Blaine's snacks that he could enjoy in bed. When he heard his boyfriend's warning, Sebastian stopped all he was doing to clamber down to the kitchen floor where Blaine had seated himself. "Whoa, hey," Sebastian put an arm around the other man's frame to hold him up and before he could say anything else, Blaine had passed out. 

"Blaine? Babe? Can you hear me?" Sebastian asked with urgency, his free hand gently slapping at Blaine's pale cheek. "C'mon, babe, talk to me," he chewed on the inside of his lip as he looked around the kitchen in futility, searching for something-- anything-- to help him. His eyes landed on the dropped bottle of water lying on the kitchen floor and Sebastian carefully maneuvered his boyfriend against his body to free up his hands. Quickly opening up the water bottle, he splashed some water onto Blaine's face, careful not to get it into his nose. He didn't know if this was proper first aid for someone who had fainted but Sebastian held his breath as he hoped it would work. 

Blaine Anderson: 

What felt like hours to Blaine was only minutes in reality before the shorter came to, the water helping to wake him. “Wh-huh?” He asked, feeling disoriented as his eyes fluttered open. His body buzzed as it usually did when he’d wake up from fainting. “Where-” Blaine’s brow furrowed, wiping at his face as he tried to sit up a little straighter. “What happened? Did I faint?” He looked to Sebastian, reaching for his hand. “Seb...I’m sorry.”

He felt really guilty at that moment, and embarrassed. “I'm sorry, this is all my fault.” He looked around a little as his consciousness was coming back, he noted they were on the floor. “I didn’t fall on you did I? I didn’t hurt you…” He asked, looking at his boyfriend concerned.  

Sebastian Smythe: 

"No, no, don't be sorry," Sebastian assured his boyfriend that everything was fine. "You kind of sat down before you fainted; you probably knew it was coming… I should've, too." Frowning as he looked over his boyfriend's features for visual indications that he was truly alright, Sebastian took it upon himself to hoist Blaine into his arms bridal-style. It wasn't very difficult considering Sebastian's strength but the guy was already pint-sized. "It's off to bed with you, mister," he declared, gathering up the water bottle and some snacks in Blaine's lap as he carried him to their room.

"You're on bedrest until Doctor Smythe says it's alright for you to go. Maybe if you're feeling better tomorrow the good doctor will perform a very thorough exam on you," he joked suggestively. "But tonight is all about some good old fashioned R and R."

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine pouted as he let himself be picked up. He didn’t like to be babied; he liked taking care of people. “Seb, I can walk,” he whined, barely protesting as he rested his head on Sebastian’s shoulder. A small grin tugged at his tired mouth as the suggestive statement left Sebastian’s mouth. “I’m sure a thorough exam would do me some good.” Blaine chuckled tiredly as Sebastian placed him down on their bed. 

“But, for real, I’m fine. I’m just a little tired,” he said, struggling to even kick off his shoes due to how exhausted his body was. He knew better than to let himself get to this point. He would be out of order for at least two days and Sam and Santana would be left to watch over the city themselves. He felt guilty. “I’m s’pposed to meet Santana tonight. Can you let her know I’m sick?” He knew there was no way Sebastian would leave him long enough to properly notify the pair of his absence. 

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the mention of Santana, because of course even while sick in bed Blaine would worry about his friends rather than his own well-being. After helping Blaine get his shoes off and setting them aside, Sebastian pulled the blankets up to tuck his boyfriend into bed. "Tell you what-- if you promise you'll actually try to get some rest, I'll give what's-her-face a courtesy call, okay? No rest, then no call to the devil incarnate." He gave Blaine a stern look that seemed to melt away as they made eye contact. There was no way Sebastian could actually be even remotely assertive when looking at Blaine's cute face.

He sat on the edge of the bed next to Blaine and leaned over to press a quick kiss to his forehead and another to his lips. "I'll even sweeten the deal for you here: you'll get to have me all to yourself in bed, for as long as you want. So what do you say, B? Do we have a deal?"

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine sighed softly, knowing that there was no arguing with Sebastian on the matter so it was in his and the city’s best interest to follow his orders of resting. It didn’t sound so bad anyway-- an entire night or two at home doing nothing but resting with his boyfriend at his side and pretending nothing else was going on in the world was extremely appealing. He’d deal with the consequences later. “Okay, okay, deal.” He smiled a little against Sebastian’s lips as he returned the kiss. 

“Will you just turn off my phone before you c’mere?” He asked, pulling back the covers a little and patting the spot next to him. “If we don’t, she’ll probably call me and bug me about not meeting them.” 

Sebastian Smythe:

With Sebastian satisfied with his boyfriend's answer, he made a quick call to Santana and kept the conversation short. He told her that Blaine was sick and the two could swap old lady recipes on another day. He didn't give Santana time to respond, hanging up immediately and turning off the phone. After placing it somewhere to be forgotten about, Sebastian got under the covers and snuggled up next to him.

"Better?" he asked with a smile, wrapping an arm around Blaine and bringing him in close. "Need you to get some rest, B."

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine chuckled softly to himself, knowing that Santana was probably cursing both him and Sebastian for just bailing on his Nightbird duties for the night. But...they’d managed without him before and they would again. Law enforcement was there for a reason after all. Blaine settled down into the bed, cuddling up close in Sebastian’s arms as he let his body relax, letting out a deep breath. “Mmm, much better.”

Nuzzling his face into Sebastian’s neck, Blaine hummed happily, feeling comfortable and content. This spot had become everything he believed the word “home” to feel like and it would never get old. “Love you so much.” He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to whatever skin he could reach.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian's smile only broadened when Blaine reached up to kiss him; it was obvious that Blaine was awfully tired. "I love you too-- so much," he said back in a quiet voice. With his hand resting upon Blaine's back, he rubbed up and down in a soothing fashion in hopes of lulling him to sleep.

"The sooner you sleep, the sooner you'll wake up and eat dinner… I plan on cooking up a storm while you sleep this away." Sebastian pressed a soft kiss to the top of his boyfriend's head and settled a bit more in bed; once he knew Blaine was in a deep sleep, he'd sneak out and make something for him to eat. Maybe he'd stay for just a bit longer, just to enjoy this closeness-- this amazing feeling of not wanting to be anywhere else but right here with Blaine.

Blaine Anderson:

“Mm, love when you cook.” He mumbled against Sebastian as he yawned yet another time before settling finally so he could fall asleep. “Don’t leave too soon, though.” He tightened his arms around the other. He could feel every inch of his body already beginning to relax and recharge just by being in Sebastian’s arms.

It didn’t take him much longer before he was fast asleep, his body and mind at ease and recharging from the exhausting days he’d endured.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian gladly obliged; he stayed well after Blaine had drifted off to sleep. It was healing for him as well to be so close with him. Dinner and the like could wait until later since it seemed that his mere presence was the best antidote for Blaine at this moment. It was reassuring to him that just by being there for Blaine, he could actually see him feeling and getting better. Out of all the times they’d been together, it was moments like this that reassured Sebastian the most that they were both exactly where they belonged: with each other.

#seblaine #sebastian smythe rp #blaine anderson rp #1x1 rp #glee rp #paras #017

[platonicone]

Devotion - Story of the Oracle and her Shield

Chapter 11 - Qualms of heart

Why do we do things even if it hurts us? I wonder…

Once she was done cleaning his wound, they resumed their journey. They did not know what dangers awaited them.

Neither dared to speak as each was consumed recollecting the events of the morning. The silence in the car was deafening.

Luna noticed Leon’s expressions and she could tell that he was troubled by the possible death of their peers. She too was distraught, but one thing she was good at was making other people forget about their sorrows. She made it a point to normalize the situation whenever possible.

Sulking on the events of the past would not help their current situation, so Luna decided the break the ice. “Should we stop at a nearby outpost to get cleaned up?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he responded briefly.

“Leon, hygiene is very important. The importance of brushing, flossing, and showering daily, cannot be overstated,” she narrated to him as if talking to a child. She tried to lighten the situation.

He let go of one of his hands from the steering for an epic facepalm. “I know that. I meant stopping at the outpost is not a good idea.”

She laughed before indulging him further. “Why do you think so?”

“When a fugitive is on the run, the first thing we do to track them down is to set a checkpoint at their basic necessities. Food, water, and shelter. If the Empire wants to find you, then they will certainly keep tabs on nearby outposts,” he elucidated, like a seasoned mercenary.

“Can’t we just use their amenities?” she complained.

“I don’t think it’s worth the risk. Besides, the nearest outpost is still a few miles away. It will be a while before we reach there,” he replied.

“Aww, I really wanted to freshen up,” she grumbled.

“It’s not exactly princess standard, but we are driving right next to the river,” he suggested, expecting an affirmative reply. He knew very well how to push her buttons. Anything he suggested that she couldn’t do because of her being a princess automatically became a dare for her.

“River would do just fine,” she replied, as expected. Leon’s lips automatically curled up in his silent victory.

“As you wish,” he said, looking for a decent spot to take a break.

After a while, they came to a secluded area where their car could easily be hidden in the bushes.

“Open the trunk, please,” she requested, and he obliged. She made her way to the trunk and started fumbling around with her bags.

“I am going to scout the area to make sure it is safe. Don’t venture too far from here. Call me if you need me,” he instructed.

“Yes, boss,” she replied playfully with a mock salute. Once he left, she went back to fishing her luggage.

He cleared out the area of a few stragglers Saberclaws.

After scouting the area thoroughly, he returned to the car. “It should be safe here for now. Right behind those rocks, there is a small waterfall in a secluded area. Even the water downstream from there is not too deep. Over there are some coconut palm trees right along the riverfront making it a suitable location to relax if you want,” he described, pointing at each location.

It wasn’t until he finished his scouting report that he saw Luna holding many things in her hands. She had a towel, travel kit, clothes, and a few other things. “Where are you going with all that?” he questioned, pointing at many things in her hand.

“Right behind those rocks there is a small waterfall in a secluded area,” she said mimicking his voice. “I am going to go there to brush my teeth, take a bath, and get changed.”

It was time for another facepalm. “If you haven’t noticed we are on the run for our lives,” he said seriously.

“If you haven’t noticed, I am still in my nightdress. I don’t want to die wearing a chocobo pajama.” Somehow her tone left no room for further argument.

“You have strange priorities,” he commented, shaking his head.

“Now I’ll go take a bath over there and you stand here and watch guard,” she commanded.

“No.”

“Good,” she said before realizing that he had not agreed to her terms. “What do you mean, no?”

“It means I am not going to stand here to watch guard,” he asserted, as his eyes scanned the area once more. “I will stand by that rock.”

“You pervert, you just want to be close enough so you can look,” she accused, narrowing her eyes.

He gave himself a facepalm before explaining his rationale. “I just want to be close enough so I can hear you scream. There is a waterfall over there, and if you haven’t noticed it generates a lot of noise. If something were to happen and if you were to scream, I won’t hear it all the way out here. If I stand over there, then I can at least hear you or warn you if required.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” she admitted sheepishly.

They made their way towards the waterfall, making small talks. “If you need me, just yell ice-cream,” he suggested.

“Ice-cream?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s our code word. I’ll come charging in if you say the code word.”

“Why can’t I just yell help like a normal person?”

“You could,” he said with a shrug. “But it's not fun.”

“You have a very weird idea of fun,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Once Leon reached his designated location he announced, “I guess I can use this time to do my daily exercise.” He looked at a branch of a nearby tree and wondered if he could use it for pull-ups.

“Alright, and remember no peeking,” she said in a playful voice.

“If you say it one more time, then I’ll make it a point to look,” he warned.

She pulled an imaginary zipper on her lips.

She disappeared from sight as Leon got busy exercising. Exercise and training were two of his favorite things. He is usually very focused during these activities and often loses track of time. However, today, his mind kept on thinking about the events that had transpired so far. But if there was one thing he prides on, that was his discipline. The more his mind wandered, the harder he trained. He avoided all distraction; he worked out as a man possessed.

A familiar voice fake coughed to break his concentration. “Do you train this rigorously every day?”

He stopped doing his pushups and looked at the friendly intruder. She wore a carmine-pink and white top held up by a string that wraps around her neck. Underneath the top, she wore a double layer flare skirt. The top layer was light pink with a white stripe while the bottom layer was plain white. She wore paler brown boots. Her long hair was styled in a braid down her back, with curls on either side of her face, framing her face. A red ribbon tied her hair together. She looked beautiful.

“Yes. I train like this even when I am sick. The discipline of mind and body is essential for a soldier,” he remarked, catching his breath, getting back on his feet.

“Impressive. I meditate and pray every day. The discipline of mind and soul is essential for an Oracle,” she responded, mirroring his statement.

“I see. Meditation is very good to focus your mind. Perhaps you can teach me your meditation technique?” he requested, wiping off the sweat from his forehead.

“I can teach you, but not until you take a bath first,” she said pinching her nose playfully.

“As you wish,” he said, as he gathered all his belongings. “Your turn to watch guard now.”

“No”

“Huh?”

“It’s my time to meditate and pray. She will watch guard,” Luna stated, pointing at Pryna at a distance.

He looked at Pryna and thought of his own pal, ‘I haven’t seen Umbra in a while.’

He nodded at Luna and made his way to his bath.

A few minutes into the meditation, Luna felt a sudden chill. She opened her eyes and was greeted by the friendly face of Genitana.

“My lady, I have come to caution you,” Gentiana stated with her eyes closed. Luna got very attentive.

“A human heart can be very treacherous. Desires not tamed can lead one astray.”

Luna knew what Gentiana was referring to. “I am committed to my cause, rest assured,” she declared with a steely resolve.

“Of that, I have little doubt. My concern is not of your goals, but your heart.”

“What of it?”

“The bond of the Oracle and her Shield has grown beyond friendship. Should this bond continue to grow unchecked, it will lead to misery and pain. When this bond is severed, it will leave behind two broken hearts: yours and his.”

“What would you have me do?”

“That is not for me to decide. Be very cautious of where your heart leads you. That is all I came to say.”

Luna nodded and Gentiana disappeared from her sight.

Luna knew that she would have to address her feelings for Leon at some point. Just not right now. She shut out any Leon and Noctis related thoughts and returned to her meditation.

After finishing his morning rituals, he came back to see her sitting still in meditation, breathing evenly and deeply. He sat quietly next to her, waiting for her to wake up.

She opened her eyes and saw him sitting next to her with his legs crossed. She noticed he was wearing a high collar sleeveless indigo shirt, black pants and boots, and black cloth covering his left leg and arm. He had a shoulder pauldron, and his chest was covered by two straps, held in place by a lion-like badge. “I am sorry. I did not realize that you were back. How long were you waiting?”

“Just a few minutes. Didn’t want to disturb you from your meditation,” he responded, getting up.

“Thank you. That is very considerate of you,” she replied, grabbing his hand to stand up.

“Shall we go?” he asked.

“No, not before we capture this moment,” she said with a smile. “Give me your phone.”

She got his phone and took a selfie to capture their journey. It was almost noontime and her stomach growled demanding attention.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“A little,” she replied.

“Hmm, we did not stock up on food. We have some chips, cookies, and soda in the car. Or we can find something in the wild to eat,” he wondered, stroking his chin thinking.

“I don’t want any junk food. But what can we get out here?” she wondered.

“I know just the thing that you would like,” he remarked, taking the lead.

After jumping through a few rocks and stepping over a few bushes, they finally made it to their desired location.

“When I came here earlier, I saw coconut palm trees. So, would you like some coconut water?” he offered.

“I would love it,” she confessed, getting excited.

“Why don’t you go get the straws from the car, I’ll work on getting the coconut,” he proposed the plan.

“You got it,” she agreed cheerfully, making her way to the car.

They meet up at the agreed site and Leon had two coconuts in his either hand. He had his pants rolled up to his knees and was barefoot, as his boots were tossed at some distance. He motioned her to follow him.

He sat by the river with his feet dipping in water. The stream of water splashed at his feet, causing rippled downstream. Luna removed her shoes and joined him. She swung her legs freely in water like a child, causing a bigger splash.

Leon had prepped the coconut prior to her arrival. He poked a hole in it with his dagger and inserted the straw and offered it to Luna.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. He nodded and continued poking a hole through another coconut; this one was for himself.

“Do you always carry that dagger with you? I noticed you had it back when we fought against Titan,” she asked curiously, looking at the dagger.

“It’s a survival knife. A dear friend of mine gave it to me as our parting gift. She said I should hold on to it so we have a reason to meet again. It’s a shame I don’t remember her anymore. I’ve been carrying it with me ever since. It has gotten me out of tough situations many times.”

“Interesting story,” she commented, before sipping her coconut.

They were sitting under the light shade of coconut palm trees, sipping coconut. Their legs freely swung in the lukewarm water. The birds sang melodious tunes and gentle breezes danced around them, providing a soothing atmosphere. To think that they were running away for their lives just a few hours ago seemed like a distant memory. Luna took their customary selfie capturing this perfect moment.

He had offered to go, but she insisted on staying there for a few more minutes.

“Leon, I can’t do this anymore. I am tired of seeing people die for my sake. I am tired to see you getting hurt for my sake. It is one thing for me to sacrifice everything I have to protect the world, but I can’t bear to watch others sacrificing themselves for me.”

“People have not sacrificed their lives for you; they did it for a cause they believed in. The only way to honor their sacrifice is to keep going on this path,” he encouraged.

“The path that I walk on only leads to more despair and dismay,” she sighed, looking at her distorted reflection in the water.

“That may be so, but it’s a worthy price for a brighter future.”

“Yeah,” she whispered quietly.

Luna hadn’t said anything for a while. She seemed distracted; he noticed.

“Everything okay?” he asked with concern.

“Leon, what would happen to us once this is over?”

He took a deep breath and begin to answer. “You will get married to your prince charming and live happily ever after. I will go back to my time and will try to pick up the pieces and make something out of it.”

“No, I mean, what would happen to us?” she choked, placing her left hand on his right hand.

Luna was torn by her current predicament. She cared about Leon deeply that much she knew. But how deep were her feelings for him, she did not know. Perhaps she knew but was too stubborn to admit it.

With their nascent relationship, Leon knew they needed to have this conversation sometime. He just didn’t think it would be today. They were more than friends, even Leon could tell. His loyalty to her was unquestioning but was it out of duty, honor, or feelings, he did not know. Perhaps he knew but did not have the courage to admit it.

“We,” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “We will become memories. Our time together will become past and we will reflect on it either fondly or with regret.”

“I don’t want this to end. I don’t want this to become a fragment of a forgotten memory.”

“I don’t think we have a choice in that,” Leon replied solemnly.

“I know,” she sighed with resignation. “Such is our fate,” she radiated sadness with every word.

‘What we have is something pure and beautiful. Anything further than this will just lead to more heartache.’ He decided it would be best for them to keep their distance to avoid any further attachment. But his walls crumble as soon as he saw water forming at the edge of her eyes.

He lifted her chin and made her look into his eyes. “We decide our fate by the choices we make and the actions we take. Sometimes circumstances dictate our choices, but that is okay, not everything has to go according to our wishes. It is precisely when things don’t go our way that we yearn, learn, adapt, improve, improvise, and grow. It is in this struggle that our conviction, courage, character, resilience, grit, and our bonds are tested. It is in this struggle that you realize what is worth fighting for and how much you are willing to sacrifice for it. No goal can be achieved without sacrifice. For a goal as noble as yours, saving the world from eternal darkness, if you have to sacrifice your freedom to choose, then don’t have second thoughts.”

‘I have lived most of my life like a prisoner in my own castle. I don’t care about losing my freedom. If I walk on the path I am supposed to, then I might save the world, but I will lose you in the process!’

For the first time in her life, she was not content by simply doing what was supposed to do. She loved Noctis because it was her duty. She loved Leon because she wanted to. She felt torn between her duty and her heart.

“Leon, I don’t think I have the courage to sacrifice what I am asked for,” she confessed averting her gaze.

“Luna, you are a lot stronger than you think you are. In fact, you are one of the most courageous people I have ever known. At a young age, you lost your parents, your brother defected, your kingdom lost, you were a prisoner in your own castle, and in spite of all that you never gave up. You traveled around the world, giving hope to people when you had none. You put a smile on the face of people whenever you went even though you had lost yours. You healed people even when you were hurt the most. If that is not courage, then I don’t know what is.”

‘I did all that because back then I had nothing to lose. Now I am afraid of losing you. I think I should be blunt and just say it, he is really not getting this.’

“I am neither loyal to my duties nor to my heart. It is not fair to him and it sure as hell is not fair to you. I am a horrible person,” she spoke as tears streamed down her face.

Before she could speak any further, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder and continued to sob.

‘To belong to someone you can never be with and forgo the one you want to be with, such is my fate,’ she thought.

He could not bear to see her sad, so he tried to cheer her up. “Someday when I look back at our time together, I don’t want to look at it with regret. We can’t control what happens to us in the future, but we can choose what we do now. So, let’s make the best out of what we have right now. If we are to be memories, then let's make the best memories together.”

He knew fully well that he would come to regret this advice. The only thing ‘making the best of their time’ would bring him is pain. The more they stayed together, the more they liked each other and the more difficult it would be to stay apart. But if his pain is the price for her happiness, then he would gladly pay it.

His suggestion seem to briefly bring a smile back on her face. “It is so unlike you to cheer someone up, but you still did it for me, and for that, I am grateful to you,” she acknowledged, looking up at him. He just nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

“I don’t like to see you cry,” he confessed, releasing her from his hug.

“Then I promise not to cry,” she assured, wiping her tears. ‘I promise not to cry in front of you at least.’

They went back to sipping his coconut as silence accompanied them once again. It was their conscious choice not to think about the past or the future and enjoy what they had now. They resumed their journey after their long break.

They made a stop at Meldacio Hunter HQ for a delivery. Knowing that they won’t be able to say at an outpost for a while, and sleeping under the stars might be their only option, Luna purchased some groceries when Leon was busy running errands.

When Leon came back, he saw Luna wearing a cap and sunglasses. “How do I look?” she eagerly asked, as he approached the car.

“Beautiful as always,” words came out of his mouth unfiltered.

She immediately blushed at his honest response. He wished he had timed it.

“What brought about this change?” he questioned, sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Just wanted to blend in with everyone else. Also, for those who don’t know me so well, it would make a little harder to identify me in this,” she gave her rationale.

“Now you are starting to think like a fugitive on the run. I am proud of you,” he remarked casually, as he started the car.

They continued their journey with minimal hostility for now. As their car ride started getting longer, a pattern emerged. Luna would often read a book while Leon drove silently. Sometimes they would turn on the radio to listen to the news or songs. Their ride was usually quiet unless Luna initiated some conversation.

“Leon, do you miss home?” she asked unprompted.

“How can I miss something I don’t even remember?” he stated, eyes still glued to the road. “Do you?”

“Yes, I do miss my home. I miss the people of our palace and our town. I miss my bed. I miss my sylleblossom,” she listed all the things she missed. “I wonder if Maria is watering them regularly.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be home soon. You just need to finish these trials,” he suggested.

“I am not so sure about that. Once the trials are done, I don’t even know what will happen to me,” she whispered softly, looking in the distance.

“Why do you say that?” he asked. ‘Once again, she is talking with a sense of finality. What does she know that I don’t? What is she not telling me?’

“It’s nothing. Let’s not talk about it,” she averted, ending the conversation abruptly.

Looking at her pained expression, he decided not to push the topic any further.

Not wanting to spend too much time in public, they had grabbed some food on the go. They stopped by an old abandoned farmhouse to take a break and eat their lunch.

They sat on a broken bench side by side as they unpacked their sandwiches.

“Leon, what’s your favorite dish?” she asked, as she carefully took out peppers from her sandwich.

“I forgot the name. It’s that sweet you made for us at Lestallum,” he replied, carefully picking out olives from his sandwich.

“Memory lane pastry,” she recalled immediately.

“Yes, that. It was amazing,” he exclaimed, before taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“I am glad you liked it. I will make it for you again,” she offered, after chewing.

“You don’t like peppers?” he asked.

“I do, but there are too many in here,” she stated.

“Pass it on, I’ll take it,” he proposed.

“What did olives ever do to you?” she asked.

“Just don’t like them,” he said plainly.

“Can I have them?” she requested.

“Absolutely,” he gladly agreed.

“What is your favorite dish?” he asked.

“I enjoy falafel,” she remarked, after thinking.

“Your favorite drink?” she asked.

“Pina colada,” he replied enthusiastically.

“I don't like it at all," she said immediately. "However, you seem to like coconut-based flavors, don’t you?” she remarked, noticing the pattern.

“I guess I do,” he confessed. “Your favorite drink?” he inquired.

“Mango shake,” she replied gleefully. “Let me guess, your favorite ice-cream is Coconut chocolate?”

“Yes. And yours is Cookies and cream?” he guessed.

“Nope. My favorite ice-cream is pineapple orange. Maria at our manor makes this amazing ice-cream,” she recalled fondly.

“You know so much about me and I feel like I don’t know anything about you,” he stated disappointingly.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get there,” she encouraged.

They finished their meal in idle conversations like this. Once done, they made their way back to their car while having a playful banter. Ever since Luna broke down and poured her heart out, everything felt slightly different. Even though they tried their best to keep everything normal, there was always an underlying pain that accompanied their every conversation now.

Their journey continued as clouds gathered above. Leon retracted the previously open roof back to enclose the open car. Within moments rain started pouring. Luna was busy reading one of the books Lina had left in the car, ‘The Legend of Vascaroon’. Leon played some music at a very low volume and occasionally tapped his fingers along with the beats.

She reclined her seat back, taking a break from the reading.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Sure, but do we have any?”

“I got one can of Ebony Coffee at our last stop,” she revealed, reclining her chair back up so she can reach the glove compartment in front of her.

“You are the best. I was starting to feel a bit sleepy,” he admitted.

“I wasn’t sure if you would like it or not, so I only got one,” she said, opening the can and handing it to him.

“Thanks!” he took a sip of it and it was truly great coffee. “This is fantastic, you should try it too,” he suggested, offering her the can.

She was hesitant at first, unsure of what to do. There were out of straws and there was only one can. Drinking from the top would be risky in a moving car. After evaluating all her options, she grabbed the can and took a sip from it directly. She had never shared food like this with anyone else before. It felt odd and comfortable at the same time.

But one sip of coffee made her forget all that. “Wow, this is good. We need to stock up on this.”

“I 100% agree.”

They each took a sip alternatively and quickly finished off Ebony, longing for more.

Longing for something they can't have seemed like the theme of their life.

Author's notes

The answer from the last chapter: Lina is a White SeeD who reads book to the children on the White SeeD ship.

This chapter's question: What is significant about "The Legend of Vascaroon" book and Survival knife?

Please leave a comment if you've enjoyed the story so far. I would love to hear your thoughts. Thanks :)

#Squall #Luna #Lunafreya #Noctis #Prompto #Gladiolus #Ignis #Ardyn #Aranea #Gentiana #Bahamut #Rinoa #Zell #Irvine #Selphie #Quistis #Stella #FFXV #FFVIII #FanFiction #Crossover #Love #Tragedy #Adventure #Final Fantasy #Final Fantasy Versus #Squall x Rinoa #Squall x Luna #Noctis x Luna #Squall x Lunafreya

[demytasse]

[Shizaya] Coping Mechanism — Ch 7

[Previous Chapters | Ao3]     Without so much as a drumroll reveal, Shizuo looked at their shrouded meal with abject horror, as though he already knew the innards of the boxed food. Widened eyes, invisible sweat, he suffered from the bane of a psychic's foresight, somehow incapable of receiving the gift as a surprise. In actuality it was the scent of specific spices that he was experienced enough with to separate the smell from stale apartment air.

    “She made curry.”

Experienced, because Shizuo seemed to have trauma attached to the dish, which the sight scrunched Izaya’s nose as he struggled to recall something. A shared memory, or that’s what he felt it might be, one that he should know like a favourite meal — because it was one of his —the meal— and he hadn’t eaten it for quite some time. Izaya struggled to peel the lid off the plasticware, simultaneously struggled to keep his focus on Shizuo’s expression as he did, his hope to gain insight play-by-play. Thoroughly to the end, it was identical horror that remained his reaction even when the prediction was confirmed.

     “Well isn't that a treat.” When he peered down at box cradled in his hands he smiled partially. “Namie-san makes delicious traditional brown curry.”

     “I know.”

Disgust poisoned his lips.

     Oh boy...

     “Hm? Why the resentful tone, Shizu-chan?”

    “Don't play innocent!”

    “I can’t play if it’s not an act. Consider that I don’t always have something up my sleeve.” He showed off a naked wrist, his cuff that was gathered at his elbow.

    Shizuo regarded it as evidence that waived off criminal charges, but was disgruntled with the verdict. “Maybe I'm the only one who remembers 'cause I was the one who couldn't live up to your standards.”

Did Shizuo really remember something he didn’t, or was it that he pulled at his strings? Izaya studied the curry from vegetable chunk to protein, the rich cedar to the darkened ring around the edge; individual ingredients each acted a recollection of the last time he indulged — the sprig of garnish that he often discarded was the sinker of what line Shizuo cast to fish for.

“Ahh,” Izaya drew out grimly, “you made me curry once, didn't you?”

—

    “Oh Shizu-chan, I think even the roux, rues the day it tasted this curry.” Izaya addressed the toasted flour mixture that separated itself from broth, dripped from the spoon to add gloss back from where it came.

    “It's inspired; smokey, but only because it was burned. Spiced, but not well and probably a cover for your flubbed ratio.”

    Fingers wrapped around the granite counter, flexed, but considered not to damage the surface as an unconscious favour. “What the hell!? I make you goddamn curry and all you can do is critique it?!”     “I thought you’d want constructive feedback.”

    “Feedback? That's constructive feedback? Sounds like you're needlessly harsh of my cooking, like you're protective of a lover and their shitty food,” Shizuo muted his tongue, temporarily numbed his ability to use it, “or something.”

    Izaya dropped his spoon and fed a cackle to his laugh. “A lover? You think me and Namie-san…?”

    “Yeah, okay,” Shizuo raked his bangs back, “maybe… Maybe I'm paranoid.”

    “Just because we had a one night stand hardly means I’m primed to cheat, Shizu-chan.”

    The glossed stone creaked out in mercy as Shizuo got bested by confirmation bias.“You two slept together?”

    “Once.”

    “When?”

    “Jealous are we?”

    “Fucking when!?” He slammed his hands down and rattled tabled utensils and troubled thoughts.

    Izaya eased himself back for an escape. “Sometime between you wanting me hospitalised and you personally wanting to bury me six-feet under. No matter; about the time she gave me head, the only one you wanted was mine on a platter.”

    “Fuck you.”

    “Well, you didn't want to…” he wryly added.

    “Why the hell didn't you tell me? Why the hell is she still your secretary?”

    “One, it never came up. Two, she most assuredly pictured me as her brother, so what does that tell you? Three,” he added a thumb to his presented peace sign, “you never told me about your fling with that Vorona chick, but I never questioned your faithfulness.”

    “...oh…” The evidence recoiled Shizuo, foiled his argument with a bullet of truth; taken to the chest and slumped him further into a leatherback barstool. He put more wear into the kitchen furniture than it would’ve procured in its lifetime.

Izaya held the rack of his trepidatious nerves while he searched for any sign of hostility he should be wary of; all he found was a hint of jealousy that dissolved into regret, swirled around his lip curled strong and circled his heavy eyes.

    “So can we move on and go get take out? I'll treat you to whatever your heart desires.” Izaya forced himself to add soft consolation to his demand as he rolled his eyes and rose; he pushed his seat in prematurely, desperate to leave the offensive curry behind.

    Shizuo was stone in his slump, “I'm not hungry.”

    A click of his tongue and Izaya was already on his way out. “What a bother you can be.”

—

    “I wanted to try my luck at the dish you loved so much. Make it just like she made it.”

    “Well, I understand that now. Though you did unfairly accuse me. A tad bit overreacted.” Izaya rebutted poignantly.

    “Because you were an asshole!”

    Izaya flicked the tip of Shizuo’s nose, “because that’s reason to believe I cheated. Besides, was I more of an asshole than normal? You should expect that I’ll act that way.” He never had the blunt force that his partner did — rather his ex, but it snapped Shizuo out of his funk all the same, a chuckle just at the back of his throat.

    “We kinda messed that up.”

    “Shizu-chan, we messed a lot of things up, not even just this.” A flash of anxiety struck his features. “But that's our thing: we fight, we fuck, we fuck things up.”

    “We do.” Shizuo nodded before he shook his head in dismay.

    “But you know what's not fucked up?”

    “Hm?”

Izaya preceded his response with the taste he tested off his finger, a healthy amount of a congealed glob he swiped from the container.

    “This curry.”

    “Oh, shut up! How good could a flea's taste buds be?”

A duplicate crinkle adorned their eyes as they loosened up to the idea that the other was their dinner date. They both decided with a silent nod: their food held no significance other than their current satiation. It was anti-climatic and easier than expected, so they grasped at the chance to move on, now with a check that marked off their progress on a laundry list of conflict.

—

    Their knees were set two inches apart from being uncomfortable as they leaned into their conversation. Colourful and boisterous, they exchanged nothings and happenstances; expended their backlog of stories they'd kept fresh, in hopes that one day they could share them with the other — with Izaya's beautiful monologues for Shizuo, and Shizuo's stroll through vignettes for Izaya. Light and sweet, it threatened to run their wells dry before they could add more to prevent future boredom.

    “...even Tom was pissed.” Shizuo favoured the right side of the ceiling to pluck details from his memory. “He pushed me back an’ yelled right in the bastard’s face.”

    “That's cute, Shizu-chan. Oddly a relief,” Izaya held out a spoon before him, full up on rice and less curry.

    “A relief, eh?” He edged forward to blow steam off the surface, his hand cupped below the gap of another.

    “Seems I don't have to worry about my bodyguard now that he finally has his own bodyguard.”

Shizuo stole his offered bite just to hold the moment that they were connected by proxy; he let the curved metal shape his lips. Perhaps they noticed the slip-up Izaya made of ownership, like it was still his to claim — as if it never wasn't. They acted ignorant of the glitch in his program.

All the while, a particular glisten gathered at the corner of Shizuo's eye; a type of saline Izaya recognised as a product of relieved humour. It was subtle, the difference between what he himself willed back and what the other man let show, but the similarities made it an endearing shared reaction.

Suddenly aware of Shizuo's ridiculous position the two separated — a spoon protracted, the blond fully weighed his chair down, but words continued on after only a short pause.

    “As if I needed one,” he smirked.

    Izaya hummed for him to reconsider, “debt collecting is a dangerous job, what with those horny idiots who can't keep it in their pants, much more their wallet in their pockets.”

    “That's true.”

    “I often speak the truth.”

They brushed knees; the minor touch was warmer than what kneecaps should provide, rather it transposed emotion, wafted over their connection like Summer air. There was a spark that hadn’t shocked them months prior, even further days in the past. At their beginning it was frigid, but also a comfort to share their freezer space, with hands occasionally clutched as a sign that they were trying.

Now, though, it was hard to ignore the spill of kinetic energy that tickled their fingertips and resonated up to burn their cheeks.

    “...I missed this.”

    “What exactly?”

    “Us chattin’,” Shizuo shrugged, careful not to wrench them apart, “your wit.”

    “Oh~? I distinctly remember you making snide remarks about it on several occasions.” Izaya swallowed his own bite, barely able to breathe before Shizuo suggested his piled up cutlery like a comrade smoker that shared his lighter.

Politely, Izaya shook his head, held up a hand that asked for pause; hesitated when Shizuo pressed a little further — eventually gave in. Especially, he savoured the flavour.

    “It wasn't that often.”

    “I mean it was weekly, Shizuo. It was several times weekly.”

    “Doesn't that mean you used witticisms too much?”

    “Woah!” Izaya brightened. “That's my boy, upping his banter game!” He motioned to applaud, but a smashed potato to his mouth beat pride to the punch.

    “God, you're an annoying pest.”

    Izaya sputtered the spud; it sounded much like an intentional spit take. With the back of his hand he cleaned starchy specks from his mouth, “likewise, kettle-chan.”

    Shizuo smudged the final fleck from Izaya's lip with his thumb. “Whatever, pot-kun.”

—

AN: Likes and comments are appreciated. I adore them and they’re always a boost to my mood. If you enjoyed this chapter, reblogs are an immense help as they get more eyes on my work. I say this shamelessly for myself and other fanfic writers — we have a hard time getting noticed and I ain’t too proud to beg for our lot. uwu ♡ ☆ Thank you so much for reading! ☆

[My other works]

#shizaya #orihara izaya #heiwajima shizuo #shizuo x izaya #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #durarara #durarara!! #durarara fanfics #fanfic #fanfiction #drrr!! #drrr #izuo #izaya x shizuo #durarara fanfiction #shizaya coping mechanism #yagiri namie #demytasse fanfiction #demytasse fanfics #tanaka tom #i rather liked writing this chapter

[atlasfms]

𝟎𝟔 / 𝟎𝟐 / 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗    ;    𝐯𝐢𝐚  𝐓𝐌𝐙.𝐜𝐨𝐦

            TRIGGERS  ;  mentions  of  death  ,  drugs  ,  overdose  ,  suicide  ,  child  abuse     &    domestic  violence  .

            𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠    𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬    𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭    𝐭𝐡𝐞    𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭    technical  challenge  atlas  has  faced  ,  however  for  someone  who  tends  to  near  enough  set  the  kitchen  on  fire  every  time  he  tries  even  attempting  to  cook  ,  it’s  a  miracle  the  stove  still  remains  unharmed    &    the  fire  alarm  hasn’t  been  triggered  yet  .  diane  figured  it  would  be  a  good  idea  for  him  to  learn  how  to  cook  his  own  food  rather  than  calling  her  or  his  sisters  over  when  he  wants  a  home  a  cooked  meal  .  of  course  ,  he  apprehensively  agreed  at  first  but  he’s  gradually  been  getting  better  at  it  .  given  his  recent  activities  ,  he  figures  getting  used  to  every  day  activities  could  be  a  good  thing  .

            he’s  in  the  middle  of  attempting  to  flip  the  pancake  when  his  phone  vibrates  obnoxiously  in  his  pocket  ,  but  he’s  not  in  the  mood  to  answer  it  so  he  lets  it  continue  it’s  buzzing  until  eventually  stopping  .  he  gets  ready  to  flip  the  pancake  again  when  his  phone  starts  vibrating  for  the  second  time  ,  so  ,  with  a  sigh  he  puts  down  the  pan    &    flips  his  phone  out  .  he  notices  that  the  number  is  made  private  ,  so  atlas  is  wary  as  her  brings  the  device  to  his  ear  ,  blonde  brows  furrowing  .    ❛    hello    ?    ❜

            ❛    hello  ,  am  i  speaking  to  a  mister  atlas  deniro    ?    ❜    the  voice  at  the  other  end  on  the  phone  line  is  vaguely  familiar  ,  however  he’s  struggling  to  put  a  name  to  the  tone  as  he  frowns  a  little  .

           ❛    can  i  ask  who’s  speaking  ,  please    ?    ❜

            the  man  answers  without  hesitation  ,    &    atlas  can  hear  the  quiet  ring  of  another  phone  in  the  background  .    ❛    this  is  detective  bryant  from  the  NYPD  .  am  i  speaking  to  atlas  deniro    ?    ❜

            atlas  freezes  in  place  ,  suddenly  remembering  why  her  recognises  the  voice  .  it’s  one  he  was  hoping  he’d  never  get  to  hear  again  ,  however  given  recent  circumstances    &    the  publicity  that  was  gained  out  of  his  argument  with  his  father  ,  he’s  really  not  surprised  .    ❛    this  is  him  .  is  there  a  problem    ?    ❜    he  straightens  his  back  as  he  folds  his  arms  over  his  chest  ,  forgetting  the  stove  is  still  on  .

            ❛    no  problem  .  i  was  just  wondering  whether  you  were  available  to  come  to  the  station    ?    ❜    his  tone  gives  away  nothing  ,  which  leaves  atlas  feeling  more  on  edge  .

            ❛    for  what  ,  exactly    ?    ❜

            there’s  a  few  moments  of  silence  ,  leaving  atlas  to  tap  his  arm  impatiently  as  he  awaits  an  explanation  .    ❛    i  was  hoping  you  could  review  your  statement  regarding  the  death  of  jason  rhodes  .  i  understand  you  weren’t  exactly  ...  truthful  .    ❜    he’s  suddenly  unable  to  move  ,  the  name  mentioned  making  him  feel  cold  even  though  the  central  heating  has  been  making  his  penthouse  feel  like  the  inside  of  an  oven  to  help  rid  of  what  seems  to  be  an  endless  winter  that’s  attacking  the  city  .  he  doesn’t  even  realise  he  hasn’t  answered  yet  until  the  detective’s  voice  carries  trough  the  phone  again  .    ❛    mr.  deniro    ?    ❜

            ❛    sorry  .  um  ,  sure  ,  i’ll  be  there  right  away  .    ❜    the  detective  says  a  quiet  ‘thank  you’  before  hanging  up  ,    &    atlas  has  to  take  a  few  seconds  to  collect  himself  ,  leaning  back    &    taking  a  few  minutes  to  recollect  his  thoughts  .  they  must’ve  seen  the  video  .  he’d  naively  believed  that  even  though  he’d  been  asked  time    &    time  again  about  it  ,  that  the  police  wouldn’t  have  seen  it  .  it’s  just  another  reminder  that  nothing  in  his  life  can  ever  remain  private  .

            as  he  leans  back  ,  he  stupidly  forgets  about  the  burning  stove  as  he  places  his  hand  on  top  of  it  ,  his  immediate  reaction  to  cry  out  ,  jump  away    &    run  some  cold  water  over  his  scolded  hand  .  he  blanks  out  everything  as  his  hand  starts  to  go  numb  ,  feeling  nothing  but  the  terrible  pit  in  his  stomach  like  he’s  about  to  throw  up  or  something  that  would  make  this  situation  worse  than  it  already  is  .  after  that  night  ,  he  promised  himself  he’d  never  talk  about  it  again  .  he  told  himself  that  if  he  didn’t  talk  about  it  ,  he  wouldn’t  think  about  it  ,    &    that  if  he  didn’t  think  about  it  ,  it  wouldn’t  hurt  .  now  he’s  not  so  sure  it  was  a  smart  idea  .

            once  his  hand  starts  stinging  due  to  the  freezing  water  that  has  turned  it  red  ,  he  shakes  off  the  droplets  ,  grabs  a  first  aid  kit    &    after  applying  an  antiseptic  cream  ,  he  carefully  wraps  it  in  a  bandage  .  he  remembers  to  turn  off  the  stove  this  time    &    throws  away  his  half - cooked  pancake  .  he  decides  that  if  he  keeps  moving  ,  he  can  avoid  recalling  that  night  for  a  long  as  possible  until  he  gets  to  the  police  station  .  it  seems  as  good  of  a  tactic  as  any  so  he  pockets  his  keys  ,  even  tapping  his  leg  as  he  reaches  his  penthouse’s  elevator    &    waits  for  it  to  arrive  at  the  top  ,  fidgeting  all  the  way  down  to  the  underground  parking  lot    &    fumbling  with  his  keys  as  he  gets  into  his  car    (    the  ferrari  gabe  bought  him  for  his  birthday    )    .

             the  drive  to  the  police  station  is  daunting    &    he  gets  there  too  fast  for  his  liking  .  it  didn’t  seem  to  have  taken  him  two  seconds  ,  even  though  he’d  sad  for  half  an  hour  in  new  york  traffic  .  he  figures  that  it’s  because  he’s  so  used  to  travelling  in  rush  hour  ,  but  he  can’t  be  sure  .  atlas  takes  a  few  minutes  to  gather  his  thoughts  once  he’s  shut  off  his  engine  ,  finding  comfort  in  the  moments  of  silence  before  he  sighs  ,  gets  out  the  car  ,    &    slides  his  keys  back  into  his  pocket  .  he’s  vaguely  aware  of  the  snap  of  cameras  flashing  away  ,  voices  following  him  to  the  door  but  they’re  just  noise  to  him  .

            the  moment  he  steps  into  the  building  ,  he  wants  to  run  back  to  his  car    &    get  as  far  away  from  this  place  as  possible  .  he  doesn’t  want  to  talk  about  that  night  .  he’s  not  even  sure  if  he  can  ,  but  knowing  he  has  to  give  them  the  truth  is  the  only  thing  that’s  carrying  him  through  to  the  reception  desk    &    handing  over  his  name  .  some  police  officer  he  recognises  guides  him  to  a  room  ,  offering  him  a  glass  of  water    &    telling  him  to  take  a  seat  .  every  moment  seems  animated  until  detective  bryant  ,  a  burly  man  with  greying  hair  steps  into  a  room    &    places  a  file  on  the  table  in  front  of  the  atlas  .  on  the  file  reads  the  name  ‘jason  rhodes’  .  atlas  takes  a  breath  .

            ❛    it’s  good  to  see  you  again  ,  atlas  .    ❜    the  detective  takes  a  seat  across  the  table  ,  straightening  out  his  jacket  before  placing  his  hands  carefully  on  the  table  ,  tilting  his  head  to  one  side  .    ❛    i  assume  you  know  why  you’re  here    ?    ❜

            ❛    yeah  .  you  told  me  over  the  phone  ,    ❜    he  replies  ,  clearing  his  throat  a  little  as  he  shuffles  uncomfortably  in  his  chair  .

            the  older  man  nods  his  head  ,  tapping  on  the  file  .    ❛    of  course  .  let’s  cut  to  the  chase  .  word  travels  fast  ,    &    talk  about  you    &    your  father’s  disagreement  is  one  we’ve  been  speculating  since  it  was  seen  .  you  said  your  father  told  you  to  lie  to  us  regarding  jason  rhodes’  death  ,    &    you  should  know  that  we  don’t  take  lying  lightly  .  so  ,  i  would  like  you  to  tell  me  again  what  happened  on  the  fifth  of  may  2010  .  but  this  time  tell  me  the  truth  .    ❜

            atlas  nods  his  head  ,  fiddling  with  his  fingers  as  he  thinks  of  the  right  way  to  start  his  statement  .    ❛    we  wanted  to  celebrate  graduating  .  you  know  ,  it’s  a  big  thing  .  we  were  surprised  we  even  managed  to  pull  through  senior  year  ,    &    we  didn’t  just  wanna  go  out  in  new  york  .    ❜    he  pauses  for  a  beat  but  it  turns  out  to  be  a  couple  of  silent  minutes  ,  only  speaking  up  again  when  the  detective  clears  his  throat  .    ❛    sorry  .  i  don’t  like  talking  about  this  .    ❜

            ❛    understandably  .    ❜    he  bobs  his  head  .    ❛    take  your  time  .    ❜

            ❛    once  we  got  to  the  hotel  room  ,  we  both  passed  out  for  like  an  hour  straight  because  we’d  both  get  tired  after  travelling  .  we  were  planning  on  going  out  that  night  ,  so  we  wanted  to  be  rested  up  so  we  could  stay  out  later  .  when  we  woke  up  ,  i  wanted  a  shower  .    ❜    he  rubs  his  hands  over  his  jeans  .    ❛    jace  said  he  wanted  to  do  a  few  lines  before  we  headed  out  ,  but  i  was  in  the  shower  while  he  started  .    ❜    atlas  looks  out  of  the  window  ,  trying  to  recall  that  night  without  thinking  too  much  about  the  details  .  but  he  can’t  help  it  .    ❛    when  i  was  done  ,  i  found  him  on  the  bed  ...  he  looked  all  pale    &    clammy    &    there  was  this  foam  coming  out  of  his  mouth  .  when  i  called  911  ,  they  told  me  to  do  all  these  breathing  tests    &    try  resuscitating  him  while  they  were  on  their  way  .  the  last  thing  i  remember  is  them  arriving  up  until  my  parents  got  to  the  hospital  .  everything  else  is  a  blur  .    ❜

            the  detective  stays  quiet  as  he  jots  down  everything  atlas  says  in  a  notepad  ,  placing  his  pen  on  the  bundle  of  paper  as  he  glances  back  at  atlas  .    ❛    i  see  .  you  previously  told  us  you  didn’t  know  about  the  drugs  ,  correct    ?    ❜

            ❛    yes  ,    ❜    atlas  says  .    ❛    my  dad  told  me  that  if  you  knew  i  knew  about  the  drugs  ,  that  you’d  find  some  way  to  blame  me  .    ❜

            ❛    it’s  never  a  good  idea  to  leave  someone  alone  with  drugs  .  it’s  never  a  good  idea  to  do  drugs  in  the  first  place  .    ❜    atlas  squirms  in  his  seat  as  the  detective  speaks  ,  not  enjoying  where  the  conversation  is  going  .    ❛    but  ,  we  can’t  blame  you  for  something  that  isn’t  your  fault  .    ❜    the  blonde  looks  up  ,  ocean  gaze  wide  as  he  tries  to  understand  the  words  coming  out  of  the  man’s  mouth  .    ❛    atlas  ,  how  long  were  you    &    jason  friends    ?    ❜

            atlas  furrows  his  eyebrows  ,  not  entirely  sure  why  he’s  asking  .    ❛    a  couple  of  years  or  so  .    ❜

            ❛    i  see  .    ❜    the  detective  nods  his  head  .    ❛    did  he  ever  mention  anything  about  he  previous  behaviours    ?    before  you  two  were  friends  .    ❜

            ❛    not  really  .  i  knew  he’d  dip  out  a  lot    &    reappear  a  month  or  so  later  ,  but  we  were  told  that  his  family  travelled  a  lot    &    took  him  with  them  .    ❜

            detective  bryant  opens  up  the  file  ,  which  holds  more  pieces  of  paper  than  atlas  would’ve  thought  there  would  be  in  an  overdose  case  .  once  the  file  is  pushed  towards  him  ,  he  flicks  through  the  papers  as  the  man  talks  .    ❛    jason  had  been  in  trouble  with  drugs  before  .  he  was  hospitalised  numerous  of  times  due  to  overdosing    &    other  causes  .  his  mother  would  send  him  to  rehab  to  try    &    get  him  back  on  the  straight    &    narrow  .  he  attended  therapy  sessions  but  none  of  them  worked  .  did  you  two  ever  discuss  your  home  lives    ?    ❜

            ❛    not  that  i  remember  .    ❜    atlas  frowns  .    ❛    i  mean  ,  we’d  complain  about  how  irritating  our  fathers  were  ,  but  that’s  about  it  .  i  don’t  understand  what  that  has  to  do  with  anything  .    ❜

            ❛    jason’s  home  life  was  a  huge  factor  in  the  cause  of  his  death  .    ❜    detective  bryant  pulls  out  a  specific  piece  of  paper    &    hands  it  to  atlas  .    ❛    his  father  was  abusive  .  not  only  to  him  but  to  his  mother  ,  too  .  drugs  were  his  way  of  getting  away  from  it  .  until  they  stopped  working    &    all  he  wanted  was  for  it  to  end  .  if  he  hadn’t  had  died  that  night  ,  we’re  certain  that  he  would  have  at  a  later  date  .  it‘s  just  a  shame  that  you  were  there  when  he  was  successful  .    ❜

            atlas’  ears  prickle  .    ❛    wait  ,  successful    ?    are  you  saying  that  jace  ...  killed  himself    ?    ❜

            the  detective  nods  again  .    ❛    he  saw  it  as  his  only  way  out  .  his  mother  didn’t  tell  us  until  after  he  died  .    ❜

            ❛    oh  my  god  ,  jace  .    ❜    atlas  closes  the  case  file    &    rubs  his  hands  over  his  face  ,  trying  to  collect  his  thoughts  but  all  the  while  thinking  about  how  he  was  so  blind  that  he  couldn’t  see  it  .

            ❛    you’re  not  at  fault  here  ,  atlas  .    &    although  i  understand  why  your  father  asked  you  to  lie  to  us  ,  you  shouldn’t  blame  yourself  for  something  that  nobody  could  have  helped  .    ❜    he  places  a  supportive  hand  on  the  blonde’s  shoulder  ,  offering  him  a  small  smile  .    ❛    i  have  no  further  questions  .  you’re  free  to  go  .    ❜

             once  he’s  stood  ,  his  legs  feel  like  jelly    &    he  has  to  hold  onto  the  table  before  finding  the  strength  to  carry  on  again  ,  not  really  recognising  where  he’s  going  as  he  drags  himself  through  the  reception    &    out  into  the  open  air  .  he  ignores  the  people  who  were  undoubtedly  waiting  for  him  to  leave  ,  asking  questions  that  reach  deaf  ears    &    not  really  knowing  where  he’s  going  until  he’s  alone  in  his  car    &    able  to  think  properly  .  he  puts  his  head  back  on  the  headrest  ,  closing  his  eyes  only  to  be  acquainted  by  the  image  of  his  dead  best  friend  .  quickly  snapping  them  back  open  ,  he  starts  the  engine    &    backs  out  of  the  parking  lot  ,  everything  around  him  blurring  as  he  makes  his  way  back  home  .

#so #here’s this :) #this got so long dhvjhkj #me knowing what’s coming: 😇 #◟ 𝔁. ┈ ´ : 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞. ╱ tabloids. #◟ 𝔁𝓲𝓲. ┈ ´ : 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢’𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝. ╱ development.

[noplanlife]

Consideration

Summary: You finally get to meet the kingdom’s other princes.  Your first impression of them is not great.

--

This is the ninth chapter of a multichapter fic!  Please find the rest here! 

--

The morning’s dew had long since dried from the castle’s sprawling front lawns by the time Osomatsu finally deigns to join you outside.  You’d been entertaining yourself with some idle, polite talk with the king and queen up until then, though you’d found yourself missing the prince throughout the conversation.  Deep down, you know you’d missed him because you enjoy his company, but it still remains easier to chalk up such feelings to any awkwardness around your future parents-in-law.  The both of them are remarkably friendly, and want you to forgo many of the formalities you insist on inserting into your interactions with them.  It’s a tough habit to break though, especially when you’re talking to the rare few people above your own station.  So, when Osomatsu finally does arrive, you absolutely take notice of the palpable sense of relief that washes over you as he slings one his arms across your shoulders.  

“Good of you to join us,” you greet him, without any bite.  Realizing that your words carry none of the tartness he’s become accustomed to over the duration of your stay, Osomatsu’s features alight with glee.  He leans forward to nuzzle his nose against the rise of your cheek, and you only purse your lips and look away from him in embarrassment rather than make any effort to encourage him to desist in his affections.  Both of his parents look positively exuberant thanks to your relative receptiveness to their son.  Trying to resist the urge to squirm while also pointedly avoiding eye-contact with the king and queen, you continue, “I thought you’d want to be here earlier, considering the occasion.”

When you glance up at Osomatsu out of the corner of your eye, it is to see that he’s keeping an eye on his parents.  You don’t realize why until both of them look away to whisper something to one another (likely about the two of you).  As soon as the both of them are absorbed entirely in their conversation, you feel Osomatsu’s hand begin moving away from its respectable position at your shoulder and rapidly south.  Your eyes go wide as you feel Osomatsu’s fingers drag slowly across the dip of your waist to splay across your hip.  Two fingers start tracing the seam that follows the tantalizing trail across the rise of your hip and down your pelvis when you finally gather enough of your wits to try swatting him away.   

Your unmannered intended has managed to keep the exact same, placid expression throughout his inappropriate exploration.  You are just about to elbow him when he finally answers you, “I’ve seen those guys every day of my life up until they got booted out in order not to scare you off.”  Osomatsu pulls away from you, his expression pained, as he nearly shouts, “The last time I knew what it felt like to have time to myself was the two minutes between when I was born and Karamatsu was!”  

You survey Osomatsu’s face, disbelief plainly coloring your own features.  Complain as he may now, Osomatsu’s constant talk of his brothers throughout your visit, as well as his emotional show to you not long ago, were proof enough he’d missed his siblings desperately.  You decide only to roll your eyes, and give Osomatsu a conciliatory pat on the chest, before pulling away from him entirely.  Osomatsu makes a sound of complaint, but you manage to shush him with a finger pointed towards the gates.  The four of you standing before the castle all look forward, and see the gates swing open to admit the large carriage you’d all been expecting.

You don’t have to wait long for the carriage, thankfully.  Still, Osomatsu tries to make the most of his last few moments of being the sole focus of your attentions by trying to drape himself across you in the most obstructive way possible.  Knowing him as you do, you have reason to believe he’s doing this to stake his claim as your betrothed.  His brothers were very competitive where prospective romance partners were concerned, or so you’d been informed.  

Having Osomatsu tell you about his brothers’ competitive natures was one thing.  Seeing it in action was another.

Not a second after the carriage comes to a gradual stop before your group does the door fly open, tear itself from its hinges, and careen down the dirt path a good ways while kicking up a veritable dust storm in its wake.  Immediately following the door, a figure, bound and gagged, comes toppling out of the carriage and rolling across the earth in a squirming heap of muffled shouting.  Your hands fly up to cover your mouth in shock, and you immediately try to step forward to help the poor soul, but Osomatsu holds you firm and tells you,

“He’s a criminal.  He doesn’t deserve any help.”

The bound figure on the ground immediately turns towards the sound of Osomatsu’s voice.  You and your betrothed stare down at the young man on the ground who is dressed in muddied finery you think was probably white before whatever treatment he’d received put him in his current predicament.  His large eyes narrow into slits, and you’ve never seen such malice directed at one person in your entire life.  The object of loathing--Osomatsu--only waggles his fingers down at his brother.  

“You brought it on yourself, Totty.  That’s what you get for thinking you could get married before the eldest!  Remember your place at the bottom of the heap!”

This was Todomatsu, then.  You only now notice the streaks of dulled pink dye running through the youngest sextuplet’s disheveled hair.  The youngest prince drags his cheek across the ground so that he can dislodge the cloth placed over his mouth, and, once free to speak, shouts up at Osomatsu,

“At least I wasn’t so hopeless our parents had to beg someone to come marry me!  I was so close-!!!  I’d just gotten them all comfortable enough to invite me to a ball over at Sutabaa Kingdom and then you sent those demons to bring me back to this hell!  And you--you’re the worst demon of them all!”  

You glance up out of the corner of your eye to see Osomatsu smiling gleefully down at his tormented sibling.  With a sigh, you reach up and plant your hand over Osomatsu’s face to push him back, and cease any argument before it can start.  While your intended whines at your treatment, you turn your attentions towards the youngest sibling, and start to offer,

“Here, let me help you-”

Unfortunately for Todomatsu, you don’t get the chance.  Your first step is cut short when all of the other brothers pile out of their vehicle at the same time.  There is a cacophony of angry shouting, followed by some violent shaking from the carriage, and then, with a mighty pop, four bodies come toppling down to the ground in an ungraceful heap.    

“I told you to let me go first-!” the green prince, Choromatsu, squawks from the bottom of the pile.  

“Why do you get to go first!?  You’re not the oldest!” the blue prince, Karamatsu, whines as he pulls his face out of the dirt.  A booted foot collides with the back of his head and knocks him back into the dust.  The owner of said boot--the purple prince, Ichimatsu--is lying on his back, staring up blankly at the sky as he grouses,

“I wanted to stay in the carriage…”

The yellow prince, Jyushimatsu, gets up from his place on top of Choromatsu so that he can flop heavily on top of Ichimatsu.  While Ichimatsu wheezes, Jyushimatsu cheerfully reminds him, “No way!  We need to be friendly and meet our big brother’s girlfriend!”  

“Betrothed,” Choromatsu corrects his younger sibling as he pushes himself into a sitting position.  Jyushimatsu, taking note that Choromatsu has recovered from hitting the ground, leaves his place atop Ichimatsu to tackle Choromatsu flat onto his back.  You watch the two of them flail around for a little bit until Queen Matsuyo finally gets tired of all the racket and attempts to get her unruly offspring back in line.  

“Get up, you useless princes!  You’re making a bad impression!”  

The sharpness in the queen’s voice seems to reach Osomatsu first.  Upon hearing his mother’s reprimands, he joins in, dragging Ichimatsu and Choromatsu apart by the back of their collars as he shouts, “Hey!  Hey!  Mom said to be quiet!  You’re making us all look bad in front of my wife!”

You’d have likely been more flustered by Osomatsu calling you his wife if it were in fact, true, and also not used in the context of lecturing his younger brothers.  A romantic confession might have been nice.  Though, such quixotic thoughts quickly abandon you in the face of hard facts and the recollection of how many times Osomatsu has tried to grope you since you moved in.

As all of the sextuplets form a line--save for Todomatsu, who is still trying to get out his restraints--you turn to the lot of them and dip down into a sweeping curtsy.  Now that you think about it, this might be the first time you’ve bothered to curtsy since arriving here.  Osomatsu’s mere proximity must have been leeching the decorum right out of you.

“I’m pleased to finally make your acquaintance.  Osomatsu has told me so much about you.”

For whatever reason, this seemingly harmless sentence makes every one of Osomatsu’s brothers groan in dismay.  You blink back at them in surprise as Choromatsu bemoans,

“She definitely has the wrong idea about all of us, then.  He must have made all of us look bad.”

You shake your head.

“Oh, no, Osomatsu spoke of all of you very fond-”

In the blink of an eye, Osomatsu is back at your side and slapping a hand across your mouth.  You shoot him an affronted look as he laughs nervously and reassures his brothers,

“Yup, I made sure she knew what shitty princes you guys all are!  I gotta make myself look like the best prospect, you know?”  

He says this with a wink, which you realize is directed at you, and not at his siblings.  For whatever reason, he must not want them to know how much he missed them.  Perhaps it was something to do with sibling rivalry, or him trying to adhere to ridiculous ideas of masculinity.  You aren’t sure which, but you decide to let the issue slide for the time being.  Reaching up, you gently pull Osomatsu’s hand away from your face so that you can regard the other brothers without anything getting in the way of you speaking to them.  They’re all looking at you with obvious curiosity, and perhaps their gazes linger a little too long in places they most certainly shouldn’t, but you decide introductions are more important than accusing them of impropriety.  

“Anyhow,” you start, “I’m truly happy to finally be able to meet all of you.  I hope you’ll let me prove myself and let me join your family.”  

You give all of them a shy nod and another curtsy, which you would have finished properly had Osomatsu not let out a fawning cry of your name and dragged you into a crushing hug.  He only stops smothering your cheeks in kisses every few seconds to peer out over the top of your head at his brothers to crow, “See!?  She’s part of our family!  Cus she’s gonna marry me!  Isn’t she cute!?  Isn’t she great!?  Look how jealous all of you are!”  

Before Osomatsu can try and force even more of his affections on you, you cover your reddening face in your hands and squirm in his grip.  When his hold on you relaxes, you think it because Osomatsu finally recognized how embarrassed he was making you, so he decided to be merciful and let you go.  It’s only when you peer out between your fingers that you notice Osomatsu, on the ground, being assaulted by his siblings.  Karamatsu and Choromatsu have a hold on a leg each, while Jyushimatsu sits on Osomatsu’s chest.  Ichimatsu, cackling a low and ominous laugh, stands over Osomatsu and announces,

“One fart for each slight.  And I’m counting at least ten.”  

As Osomatsu starts screaming, you feel a hand gently land on your shoulder to turn you away from whatever horrors were about to take place.  You come face to face with Todomatsu, who is now free of his bonds and not very intent on helping his brothers torture Osomatsu.  The hand not on your shoulder takes one of yours and raises your knuckles to his lips.

“Don’t worry, princess.  Unlike those guys, I’m the perfect prince.  So reconsider marrying my shitty oldest brother and marry me instead, okay~?”

Both the king and queen wrench their youngest son away from you and start lecturing him about getting in the way of their future grandchildren.  

#osomatsu san #osomatsu #osomatsu x reader #garbage fic for garbage boys #does osomatsu want to marry you because you're super cute or because he can rub the fact you're super cute in his brothers' faces? #the answer is: both