#we bask in anger and rage ig

[your-local-depressed-fangirl]

hey go to bed

😒 aren’ we in the same time zone (i’m 90% sure)? Why don’t you go to bed!

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

A Night At The Opera- Chapter 4

Fandom: Queen/Borhap

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Brian May x reader/ John Deacon x reader

TW: Brian being possessive of what’s not his(AGAIN), blood, brian wants the readers blood lmao, managers being dicks, language, the managers are also pervs and everyone seems to hate (Y/N) I stg, vomit, blood, angry brian, murder, betrayal ig?

Genre: Horror ig?? ( based on phantom Of the opera)

Series: A Night At The Opera

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/N: Oof this chapter is BEEFY. Hope you guys enjoy!

(Y/N) sat in the darkness, chest heaving with every second that she spent there. The darkness had been something that she loved, something that she thrived in. Now, since he'd come into her life, she was terrified of it. Never wanting to spend more than a few seconds inside of it. A soft voice sang distantly and (Y/N)'s hair rose on the back of her neck, eyes darting to the full-length mirror. The girl instantly shot up, sprinting to the door and jiggling the door handle. It was locked. Or blocked from the outside.

"And where do you think you're going?" Brian's voice was gentle, but held a slight venom to it, making her freeze, hand instantly letting go of the door handle as if it had scorched her.

"I just- just have to go talk to Deaky,"  (Y/N) stammered anxiously, her fingers clutching the stem of the rose that had remained in her hand. Brian's dark eyes flitted down to the rose and a smile grew on his face, but it promptly transformed back into a frown at the mention of Deaky. One of the barriers between their love. Deaky didn't deserve her affection. The only person that deserved it, deserved her, was him.

"No, you don't. You don't need to talk to that insolent boy. He only tries to bask in your glory. This brave, young suitor, sharing in my triumph," Brian's words were cold and sarcastic, and he made his distaste, his hatred, for Deaky as definite as anyone could do. (Y/N)'s eyes flashed in alarm, as she took a step back, only to have her back pressed to the door. She didn't see anything but Brian could see the way her eyes flared and fear started to seep in.

"He doesn't- ow! Shit!" She cursed, feeling a small prickle of pain in her middle finger. Looking down, (Y/N) saw a thorn on the rose, covered in a bit of blood. Her blood. There was a small trickle of blood, leaking from her middle finger and she brought it up to inspect it. But Brian couldn't tear his eyes away from it. The smell of her blood made his eyes swirl and glow red, darting around frantically. Her blood smelt astounding. He had to have her...

No! No! What was he thinking? He couldn't hurt her. No, he couldn't. He wouldn't let herself. While (Y/N) eyed the tiny wound, Brian allowed himself to tread backwards, slipping back into the gap he had hidden behind the mirror, and taking off. The girl hadn't even noticed he'd left, as what had taken forever for him, had taken the blink of an eye for her. (Y/N) glanced up from her bloodied finger and did a double-take upon seeing nothing but an empty room.  Was she imagining things again? Had she been talking to herself? What the actual fuck was going on?

"Boys, (Y/N)," Lucille quietly stated, pulling from the group from their conversation "I would like to introduce you to Mr Goldbrooke and Dr Addams. They are the new managers of the theatre," It was then that they noticed the two men stood behind Lucille. The first man stood tall, hands folded behind his back. His lips were pulled back into a thin line, beady black eyes peering over a hooked nose. He had a beard growing on his face, making him look slightly burlier than he was, and long, slightly greasy, hair flowed over his shoulders.

The second man was older, if not he had under gone a lot of stress in his time, judging by his grey, almost white hair. It was clipped short, making his ears protrude quite largely. Wrinkles were embedded deep into his pale skin. His face was fairly thin and his piercing blue eyes, hidden beneath fairly thick white eyebrows, seemed to stare into the groups souls. The clothes he wore were pristine, not a crease or mark in sight.

Casually, Mr Goldbrooke and Dr Addams stepped forwards, extending a hand each and the band shook their hands, one by one, albeit quite warily. Freddie gave them both a rosy smile, Roger a small scowl,  Deaky a small nod of acknowledgement, (Y/N) an unconvincing look of merriment and Adam, well, no one had ever seen Adam grin so wide.  His eyes were bright and excitable, gawking at them in astonishment. However, when these two men shook hands with (Y/N), they exchanged a look that was a little too perverted for her liking. She wore only a black tank top, to prevent her from getting too while sorting the stage and lighting, and some black leggings, but she practically felt exposed under their gazes. It was a painfully awkward situation and she desired nothing more than to get back to her work. Deaky felt his blood boiling, his skin writhing as the two managers got closer to his girlfriend

"And what is your name, young lady?" Dr Addams asked, sky blue eyes ogling at her, leaning down so he was barely an inch away from her face. The girl took a step back, a forced laugh pushing past her lips.

"(Y/N) (L/N)," She answered shortly, narrowing her eyes, daring him to continue acting the way he was. Deaky swiftly sidestepped to her and wrapped a secure arm around her waist.

"Our techie, roadie and my girlfriend," Deaky added, putting as much emphasis on the girlfriend as possible. Mr Goldbrooke smirked at the younger man's possessiveness and too got closer to the pair. Roger felt himself bristle and damn near punched both of them in the face.

"If you ever tire of him, dear, you know where to find us," Goldbrooke chuckled but before Roger's head could blow, Lucille positioned herself between the new managers and the band.

"I have a letter for you sirs, you too, boys," Lucille passed an envelope to each person, watching as the bands eyes all furrowed in confusion.

"A letter?" Adam questioned.

"Who from, darling?" Freddie pushed

"I didn't even know we could receive letters here," Roger mumbled, glancing at Deaky and (Y/N), who only shrugged, just as confused. However, Dr Addams and Mr Goldbrooke only let out small scoffs before Dr Addams ripped the envelope open, paying no mind to the intricate wax seal.

"I would like to welcome you gentlemen to my opera house. I trust that Lucille has made you well acquainted with the band that is performing here for the coming months, Queen. They are an exceptional talent. The opera house is an important factor in this city and I want you to take care of it as well as I have. I would like to remind you, nevertheless, that your payment is due. Leave £4,000 on the counter of Mr Freddie Mercury's dressing room. I also command that box five is to be left empty. See to it that these demands are followed or there will be dire consequences. - B.M- Opera ghost" The doctor read, flabberghasted. Mr Goldbrooke snatched the paper from his hands, ignoring the prying eyes of the band stood in front of him.

"£4,000?!" Mr Goldbrooke parroted, eyes wide, a look of bewilderment planted in them.

"The old manager used to pay £12,000 per month if they think that is too much," Lucille muttered to (Y/N), causing the girl to giggle, thumb running over the wax seal of the letter in her hand. The giggle didn't get past the two managers, who's sharp eyes shot to her.

"Go on, girl! What does yours say?" Mr Goldbrooke commanded, a snicker rising from Adam. Freddie immediately placed himself in front of her, glaring at the two men who towered over him slightly.

"Her name is (Y/N)," Freddie hissed protectively, nearly baring his teeth in anger. (Y/N) took Freddie's hand, tugging him back gently. It wasn't worth the fight. They needed these performances. Hesitantly, she looked down at the envelope, the word ' Queen' written in cursive, before turning it over. The red wax that was pressed onto the parchment was in the form of a skull, and she nearly felt her blood run cold. Her hands began to tremble but, nevertheless, she cracked open the envelope and drew the letter out.

"Your performance featuring Miss (L/N) was, in a word, stupendous. She is a vast improvement from the fool you call Adam. He is a snivelling cockroach who can't tell his E string from his B string. (Y/N) has an immense talent that you can no longer ignore, and I would like all of your performances from this day forth to feature her, rather than that mule. Should these actions not be followed, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur- B.M- Opera Ghost," She announced out loud, her words growing more clustered and slightly panicked. Roger set his hand on her shoulder, concern rising in his body; Deaky's arm tightened around her waist, feeling goosebumps rising on her flesh and Freddie clutched onto her hand tightly, squeezing it slightly.

"Are you alright, lovie?" Deaky asked softly, his lips making contact with her temple as they moved.  (Y/N) nodded slightly but it wasn't convincing. Adam's glare seared into her back, his face growing redder with rage, while the two managers watched the group cooing over the girl, a look of slight disgust on their faces.

"(Y/N) can't take my place! She won’t take my place! I earned this job! Besides she can't even play! She fumbles with the strings and doesn't know how to play a proper riff!" Adam exploded, arms folded tightly over his chest, pouting like a toddler.

"Is that why we have a full house tonight? Her playing sold more tickets last night than yours has ever done. And, unlike you, (Y/N) can hit the fucking notes!" Roger snapped instantly, taking a defensive stance and removing his hand from (Y/N)'s shoulder.

"As amusing as this is, I believe this young man here. Adam, is it?" Mr Goldbrooke interrupted, brushing past Roger carelessly. Adam nodded immediately.

"Adam Johnson, sir," He replied. God, what a suck-up.

"But (Y/N) is a much better performer than Adam will ever be! People don't cringe when they hear her play, for one," Deaky continued, remembering their first performance. A few people had left that first night, due to Adams lacklustre playing.

"Mr Deacon, maybe you should be thinking about this situation with your brain rather than what's between your legs," Dr Addams remarked and (Y/N)  ruffled, steam nearly rolling out of her ears. But as she went to approach the man, to give him a piece of her mind, she was yanked back.

"With all due respect, doctor, sir, the Opera Ghost has stated that he wants her to play. I have seen many disasters happen because people haven't followed his instructions. The opera ghost sees, the opera ghost knows," Lucille commented calmly, attempting to remedy the heated situation.

"For god's sake! Can't you all see that this is some sick joke! There is no opera ghost here! We will not be paying £4,000, we won't leave box five empty and Mr Johnson will most definitely be playing instead of Miss (L/N)," Dr Addams shouted, causing every to quieten down.

"Oh and (Y/N), I'm afraid you're being demoted. You see, we've hired our own tech group, so you need not do anything," Mr Goldbrooke smirked slightly but that smirk didn't remain for long as Freddie waltzed right up to the man, standing so close that he could feel Mr Goldbrooke's disgusting breath on his face.

"Who do you think you are, firing my staff?" Freddie growled lowly, so quiet that it almost seemed as if he hadn't said anything at all. Roger and Deaky's eyebrows raised in surprise at Freddie's outburst.

"I'm the manager here. I can stop you performing here altogether if I don't like what I see," Mr Goldbrooke replied, before glancing at the Doctor and the pair took their leave. Deaky let out a long sigh, Freddie rolled his eyes and Roger decided it was a bright idea to punch the wall beside him. Spontaneously, he let out a loud curse and pulled his hand back, to reveal his knuckles starting to grow bloody.

"For goodness sakes, Rog. Come on, let me patch you up," (Y/N) murmured, starting to head to the bathroom to grab the first-aid set. Everyone, minus Adam, who still held a sour look on his face, shared a look. Something wasn't right. She hadn't been acting right since she read that letter. Freddie took the note from Lucille, reading it over himself. Why had this ghost sent this? Something told him that the band's success wasn't where this opera ghosts interests lay. It was all to do with her. Why was he obssessed with her? What did he want with her?

(Y/N) was busy cleaning the stage of some of the rubbish that had been dropped on stage the day before and that afternoon. She could hear the tinkering and chattering of a few techies up in the scaffolding as she brushed the rubbish to the side to scoop up in a trash bag later. Faintly, a squeal of excitement sounded from backstage, which (Y/N) could only guess was Adam's girlfriend Freya. Adam hadn't shut the fuck up about her and how hot she was since Mr Goldbrooke and Dr Addams had gone off to who knows where.She continued to brush dust and rubbish off stage before placing the brush down and tucking a few wires away. (Y/N) checked the number of spare drumsticks behind Rog's drumset, before taking a wipe and starting to rub off the sticky mess the bear had left behind. Sat on the floor, (Y/N) pushed her hair back before getting to work. After a few minutes, heels clacking on the stage brought the girl back to reality. Freya sat herself down on the stool behind the drumset as (Y/N) scrubbed, not paying Adam's girlfriend any mind.

 "Wow, Adam was right. You are a rude bitch," Freya's pitchy voice commented, making (Y/N)'s eyes snap up to her. She had silky, straight, auburn locks, positioned perfectly in a half-up half-down hairdo.  There was a thick layer of makeup plastered on her tanned skin, making her look very barbie-gone-wrong. Her shirt barely hid her boobs and her skirt was halfway up her butt, showing off more skin than deemed appropriate in public, and those shoes could NOT be comfortable to walk in.

"Sorry, trying to work, if you haven't noticed," (Y/N) sneered back, eyes falling back to the work ahead of her

. "Y'know, I heard about last night. You're trying to steal my boyfriend's job, but it's not going to work. He has more talent in his finger than you do in your entire body. So when Queen get famous because of him, you're just going to be lingering behind. A sad little roadie pushed away from the limelight," Freya said, blowing a piece of gum that (Y/N) hadn't even noticed that she had in her mouth. A small smile of disbelief rose to her lips.

"Right to the chase, huh? I can see Adam only chooses women as pleasant as he is," (Y/N) replied, throwing the dirtied wipe to the side and reaching for another once. But before she could reach the packet, Freya caught onto her wrist, wrenching her forward so that she nearly hit her head on one of the drums.

 "Just stay away from my boyfriend. He's on a walk straight to fame but you keep getting in the way. Just fuck off, alright?" Freya released her wrist and (Y/N) chuckled slightly

. "Alright, I got it, princess. I got to get back to work if you'll excuse me," (Y/N) shot back sharply, giving her a pointed look and soon enough, Freya stood up and walked back to the backstage area.

"Are we ready boys?" Roger asked as he bounced on the spot, shaking out his wrists. Freddie was busy taking a long sip of water, before throwing back a shot of vodka, while Deaky checked that his bass was properly tuned. But both boys hummed in agreement. Adam, however, was too busy sucking Freya's face off, nearly catching one of the strings of his guitar on Freya's massive bracelet.

"Ready, my love?" Deaky turned to (Y/N), who was occupied on running over a control centre that had possession over the lights on stage. The new techies had fitted it in earlier and showed her how to use it before fucking off, leaving one guy up in the scaffolding. The guy they'd left in the scaffolding was a massive dick, who barely cared about his job but rather taking preference to ogle the girls and drinking any booze he could find. Mr Goldbrooke and Dr Addams were sat in box five and Adam was set to play on stage.

 Neither of those things helped ease (Y/N)'s anxiety about the letter the group had received earlier. Something terrible was going to happen. She could feel it in her gut. She tried to push it aside as paranoia, but the feeling kept returning. Haunting her. (Y/N) knew that Brian would do anything to get his way.  The two scabs on Adam's neck reminded her of that every time she looked over at him. The fresh rose on the table in Deaky's dressing room taunted her. It'd appeared earlier while the band were taking a break. (Y/N) had gone to grab one of her boyfriend's hoodie's only to find a new red rose on the table, tied with that same silk black bow.

Then the moment she dreaded came. The boys ran on stage, and Deaky's low, rhythmic bass started, followed by Roger's immaculate drumming, Freddie's perfect pitch. And Adam's artificial playing. (Y/N) winced as she adjusted the lighting, changing the colour from green to a red colour. Freya seemed to get as close to her as possible, while still watching her talentless boyfriend play. It was forty-five minutes into the show before anything happened. With each minute that passed (Y/N) could both feel her heart in her throat and her body calming. 

Until there was a loud crash on stage and all the music came to a jolting halt. Upon the impact, there were a few screams and a few gasps as a light landed a few yards from Adam's body. Suddenly, just as everyone was beginning to calm down, and as (Y/N) ran on stage to remove the shattered light, a booming voice called out

."Didn't I strictly instruct that box five was to be left empty."A few more murmurs resonated through the crowd and just past the chandelier (Y/N) could see a dark body, an insane mass of hair and a white surgical mask. In the corner of her eye, she could spy the techie in the scaffolding running between lights to check their security.

"He's here. The Opera ghost," (Y/N) stated out loud but Adam lightly smacked her with his guitar, turning to make it seem like an accident

."You're supposed to be silent, little toad," He hissed. (Y/N) only gave a fearful exhale before she pulled the broken light off stage, carefully lifting it and placing as much as she could on the table. Deaky glared furiously at Adam. How dare he?  Up in the hidden ceiling compartment, Brian watched the interaction between his beloved and that awful creature, finding himself mumbling

"A toad, sir? I think you'll find it's you, who are the toad."

After a few minutes of calming the audience down, Roger counted the group back in, though they all looked anxious to get off the stage, especially Deaky, who wanted nothing more than to run to (Y/N) and just cuddle with her for the rest of eternity. The music continued, and everyone seemed to think that it would be the end of their troubles.

If only.

Freya watched curiously when she saw the techie in the scaffolding running around again, except this time, he looked terrified out of his mind. Thinking nothing of it, she brushed it off as worry for any more falling lights and looked back down to the performers on stage. She wished that was all it had been. (Y/N) was too distracted with the lighting to notice the commotion happening in the scaffolding.

 Because not even five minutes later there was an even louder thud and a blood-curdling scream broke through the air. (Y/N)'s head snapped to the stage and a hand shot to her mouth, a gasp catching in her throat. She thought she was going to be sick. The music on stage stopped once again but this time, there was the sound of scrabbling and yelling come from the audience. Freya sprinted off the bathroom, tears streaming down her cheeks. Because there lay the techie in the middle of the stage, eyes wide, frozen in fear, skin white as snow, veins protruding oddly, body limp and lifeless.

And two bloody bite marks on his neck.

 (Y/N) raced on stage, yanked Deaky's bass off his body, gripped his hand and sprinted off, dragging him behind her. She ventured up some steep, winding stairs, her fingers clutching onto his, before shoving on a door at the top, revealing the roof of the opera house. A deep breath filled her lungs with freezing air. A bitingly cold December night.  She hadn't even noticed that she'd picked up the rose on her way out.

 "Why have you brought me here? We need to return" Deaky asked gently, running a light hand across her cheek.

"We can't go back there! He'll kill you! His eyes will find us there!" (Y/N) ranted, nervous eyes flitting around, her body involuntarily beginning to pace in circles

"Don't say that. Don't even think it," Deaky said, trying to calm down his hysterical girlfriend, who was so close to tears, holding the rose close to her chest.

"Those eyes that burn. And if he has to kill a thousand people, the opera ghost will kill and kill again," (Y/N) whimpered, tears building up in her eyes, about to break at any moment.

"There is no opera ghost, love. It was just a freak accident. We'll figure out what happened," He sighed, reaching out to touch her arm but she stepped back in fright.

"John, I've seen him! Can I ever forget that sight? Those kind eyes, that crazy hair, the jagged teeth, the broken mouth. In the darkness..." There was a pregnant pause, where (Y/N) glanced over the edge of the building, noticing the people flocking from the building "But his playing filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound. And I began to sour. Higher and better than I ever have in my life."

"What you saw was a dream. A nightmare. Nothing more," Deaky reassured but she kept shaking her head, hair falling out of the ponytail she had place it in.

"But in his eyes, all the sadness in the world. Like he'd lived a hundred lives that he couldn't escape. Seen all the wars the world has ever faced. Those pleading eyes, that both threaten and adore," If there hadn't just been an extremely traumatic event, Deaky probably would've believed her. But she'd just experienced one of the worst things possible. Looking for someone to blame.

"(Y/N), (Y/N), calm down, darling,"

"(Y/N)..." A ghostly voice called out, and (Y/N) could swear on her life that it was Brian, and she tensed, freezing on the spot. Deaky's arms wrapped around her, shielding her from the cold.

"No more talk of darkness. I'm here. Nothing will harm you," He promised, pressing his lips to her forehead soothingly. His touch was so gentle and sweet, she wanted to believe that he could hide her from the darkness of the world. From Brian. And maybe she could. Maybe she could elt herself believe it. Just this once.

"Turn my head with talk of summertime. Say you need me with you now and always. That's all I ask of you. Please, Deaky," Their noses pressed together and slowly, very slowly, the rose fell from between her fingers and to the frosted floor.

"Anywhere you go, let me go too. I can protect you You just need to believe me. (Y/N), I love you," Deaky connected their lips together tenderly, to which (Y/N) tangled her fingers in his hair. Reluctantly the pair broke away, knowing they'd have to face the music.

"I believe you. And I love you too. Now come, they'll wonder where we are," With a reassuring smile, the couples' hands reconnected, and they made their way back into the opera house, leaving the rose abandoned on the rooftop.

And in their moment, they'd failed to notice the opera ghost himself, crouched behind one of the gargoyles on the roof, listening to them intently, his heart breaking and tearing at the declaration of their love. When he was sure that they were gone, Brian stood up and wandered over to the rose, picking it up and holding it tightly to him.

"I gave you my music. I made you soar. And now, how you've repaid me, denied me and betrayed me," His tears fell onto the crimson petals, but his sorrow turned to hatred when his over-sensitive hearing picked up on the exchanged words of love between (Y/N) and Deaky on their descent of the the staircase. With each word, his grip tightened on the rose until the mangled petals fell to the floor, and he threw the stem down, tearing off his cape angrily.

"You will CURSE the day you didn't do everything that the opera ghost asked of YOU!"

TAGS: OPEN

Tags (for this series): @queendeakyy@scarlettequinn @stephydearestxo @likesomekindofcheese​ @mirkwoodshewolf​ @pirateprincess99​

Tags:  @writingfortoomanyfandoms @metaphorical-love-for-a-car@queens-n-roses @freaky-dcaky@yourealegendfred@fierce-bab@dusthas-beenbitten   @bensroger@strangeandwonderfulconcepts@babebenhardy@benhardyjones @silvver-rose @psychosupernatural

[ichigopanhpff]

Ignis x Reader Fic: Next To You Pt. 8

This was one of the tougher chapters to write. I intended it to go a different route, but ultimately decided to go with this. That and I’m a sadistic af writer who love torturing her readers xD

While you’re reading, I’d like for you to listen this ONE OK ROCK song. I think it best reflects the mood of what I was trying to capture.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Last night felt like a dream. Dinner and dessert was perfect. Then it all came crashing down.

(Y/N)’s eyes lazily fluttered open with a blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon. She found herself in the darkness of her bedroom. Streams of light snuck through the small break in the blinds, suggesting it was near noon. She sighed aloud and turned to the other side, hugging a stray pillow.

Being alone was fine. She didn’t have to hurt anyone nor anyone her. This was predestined for those of the (Y/LN)s. Build bonds only to break them. Love only to use them. Blackmail only for self-gain.

She felt herself regressing back to being numb to everything as the pain radiated in her chest. Her world was turning back into the monochromatic one she’s grown so accustomed to from her youth. Mechanically reaching for her phone, she debated messaging Ignis but decided against it. She’s done enough.

She lost her one and only friend, her confidante. If someone were to jump into her room and kill her right now, she wouldn’t even put up a fight.

As (Y/N) drifted back into a dreamless sleep, her phone suddenly chimed with a message, jolting her up. Her eyes desperately scanned the notification, only to leave her disappointed.

“Don’t be stupid...” she assured herself aloud, feeling her eyes heat up with the need to cry again. She tossed her phone back on the nightstand with a clatter. “He’s already rejected you.”

How foolish of her to think she could be in the brilliant light like him while running from her shadows. They were at opposite ends of the same coin, always parallel to each other. As much as she reached out, no one could reach back to save her from herself. Unable to sleep anymore, (Y/N) rolled to the opposite end of her bed and reached for her phone again to check the message.

It was from her father; there was to be a family meeting at the house tomorrow and she had to dress up. No exceptions. A sudden uncomfortable feeling rose up from the pit of her stomach; tomorrow was the treaty signing with Niflheim. The timing’s all too coincidental.

What could they be scheming?

Maybe it’s time to dive back onto the Dark Net for some intel. It’ll make for some good emotional distraction.

–

When the morning of the treaty signing came, she hesitantly reached for a box buried underneath her bed and pulled it out. The top was lightly covered with dust bunnies and cobwebs. This was one of the many things she never wished to show Ignis. Reaching for the lid with shaky hands, (Y/N) balled them up tightly into a fist to steady herself. She had to remind herself she’s only wearing it to appease her parents and won’t become what it represents. Taking in a calming breath, she lifted the lid and revealed a neatly folded black garment.

The Phantom Fatigues, the only known signature clothing from her family. 

Made of air light breathable material and resistant to almost all the elements, it allowed the wearer maximum mobility and speed without making a sound. Wearing this also allowed them to vanish at will and into stealth mode; perfect for sneaking in and out of places. As nice as that sounds, it always felt suffocating for her as it was a constant reminder of her being bound to her so-called weighty family legacy. Each piece she put on heightened her anxiety to the point where she physically shook. Taking deep, drawn out breaths to calm down, she squeezed her eyes close to find her happy place.

The first person that came to mind was him. (Y/N) never realized how dependent she was on Ignis up until now. Almost every aspect of her life revolved around the crown adviser. How did that happen? Whatever the reason may be, it worked. Nervously taking a step forward, she walked up to the small full length mirror leaning on the wall. Gods, the outfit was exactly how she remembered it. She didn’t care her face looked like shit from crying and drinking whiskey.

The long sleeve loose fitting asymmetric top with a hood draped just past her hips. Her bottoms consisted of bandaged leggings with mesh panels and a pair of black shorts on top. To complete the ensemble, a pair of sturdy black leather boots with interior sheaths for weapons. Sighing heavily at her appearance, she figured the sooner she got this done, the sooner she can get out of these clothes.

Grabbing her go-bag, she took one more look around her apartment and left. Making her way out to the street, she looked at her phone again.

“Stupid girl,” she uttered to herself. “Ig’s gone. Let it go.”

(Y/N) closed her eyes to collect her focus and emotions. She reopened them and ducked into a narrow side street and jumped up to a building rooftop like a dragoon. She couldn’t possibly take the train in these clothes. Even regular Lucians would find her suspect. Throwing the hood over her head, she willed herself to vanish and made tracks to her parents’ house. The Kingsglaive would be on high alert and seeing someone jump on rooftops wouldn’t help calm them down either. After hopping over a variety of city buildings and admiring the skyline of Insomnia and the oncoming parade for Niflheim, she arrived with a few minutes to spare before the meeting time and reappeared after making sure no one was around.

She’s always hated her familial home. The concrete fort-like exterior with dark window frames always made it feel more like a prison than anything. The only sunlight the house got were in the hallways leading to the study and dining room. As a child, she’d often stay there, staring out at those very same windows wondering about the world outside; wondering if she’d ever be able to bask in the light like everyone else. Her room was often dark as it was at the far end of the house. When she had the chance to leave, she did so without hesitation and opted for a place with the best angle for natural lighting.

Staring at the cold, intimidating structure, she took a breath and went through the small entrance gate. Her presence was greeted with faint, echoing footsteps from far away and deafening silence. Before going to the meeting spot, she stashed her bag behind one of the many curtains in the main hallway to make a quick getaway; hiding it in her old room would be too obvious and she’d be trapped. She removed her hood and heard two sets of footsteps approaching her way. (Y/N) quickly turned to see her brothers in their respective fatigues and dark slacks.

“Azrael, Chronos,” she tersely greeted her older brothers. “What the hell happened to your face?” Azrael asked with contempt. “So sorry the way I was born offends you so much,” she snarked back and rolled her eyes.

Her brother merely huffed an annoyed breath and the three slowly made their way to the study.

“Either one of you have any idea what this meeting’s about?” “I overheard we’re to have some guests arrive,” Chronos replied and had to do a double take at (Y/N). “You’re in uniform.” “At the request of father,” she listlessly pointed out. “I’m surprised it still fits you,” Azrael sneered. “You and me both.”

They walked on in tense silence with the midday sunlight dancing past them from the wide french styled windows. Every nerve in her body was screaming danger up ahead as her mind played through the infinite amount of scenarios in what it could be; and the information she found on the Dark Net wasn’t helping any either.

“Why are you nervous, (Y/N)?” Azrael pointed out, noticing her fidgeting fingers at her sides. “I’m sure whatever we’re meeting ‘bout doesn’t concern you.”

She stopped in her steps and turned to her brothers, pausing their pace.

“Don’t you think it’s weird dad called us here on the day of the treaty signing?” she abruptly blurted out. “What do you mean?” Chronos asked and saw the hesitation in her expression. “I think… it’s some kind of trap,” she quietly spoke with bated breath. “Mom n’ dad would never set us up like that,” Azrael dismissed the theory and placed his hands on his hips. “With you, maybe.” “But what if they are?” she challenged. “They’ve been bitching non-stop about reclaiming our proper place.” “You know how they are: they shoot the shit to pass the time. They’d never side with the Niffs,” Azrael firmly concluded. “We may be fuck-ups in the eyes of the Lucis Caelems, but we’d never stoop that low for influence.” “That may be, but what do we have to lose now that the King’s agreed to the ceasefire?” she argued back. Chronos saw the top of the her dagger handles sticking out of the sides of her boots and inquired, “Is that why you brought those, (Y/N)?” “Call it insurance.” “We shouldn’t dawdle,” her middle brother dismissed her theory and walked ahead. “Let’s go, (Y/N),” Chronos called.

Her palms were sweaty and her heart was beating like a double-pedaled bass drum at her throat. Everything felt heavy and off. But what choice did she have?

It was time for a ‘go as you see fit’ strategy as she entered the Lion’s Den.

–

Days passed and news of Insomnia’s fall hit the radio waves and papers. Mixed emotions hit the four royal travelers: anger, worry, fear, rage, and most of all, revenge. After retrieving one of Noct’s Royal Arms with Cor’s help, they received a call from Iris to confirm her safety and slowly made their way to Lestallum from Hammerhead. While resting at a camper at Coernix Bypass at night, Ignis’ mind wandered to (Y/N). He’d tried to reach her on several occasions unsuccessfully when he was alone. Sighing and staring at his blackened phone screen, he decided to give it one more try, hoping to the Six she’s alright.

Hearing the phone ring twice on the line, a click suddenly connected. His heart leapt anxiously and heard the most discouraging message.

“I’m sorry. The number you have reached has been disconnected.”

Disconnected…

Did the Niffs capture her? Or was she already among the dead? Reaching up to his necklace, he unconsciously ran his thumb over the hand-carved skull she made for him, trying his best not to think of the worse case scenario. There were still so many things left unsaid between them since their kiss. But that would have to wait; his priority right now is to get to Lestallum and regroup with Iris. (Y/N)’s whereabouts had to be second.

Gladio entered the camper and noticed his friend’s sullen expression in the breakfast nook area.

“Iggy, you alright?”

His head jolted up and nodded.

“Yes, thanks for the concern,” he dryly responded, his face still full of worry. “Have you heard anythin’ from (Y/N)?” “Unfortunately, no.” “I’m sure she’s fine,” the Shield tried to persuade his friend. “She’s a fighter.” “That she is…”

He suddenly clapped his hand on Ignis’ shoulder, making him look up.

“Trust in her like you trust us.”

After a few rounds of “King’s Knight,” the four turned in for the night and it’s back on the road at the break of dawn. The change in the air was very noticeable as they drove through the Clegine area. The humidity clung onto their skin even when standing still. And wearing full leather attire certainly didn’t help either. They pulled over to the side for a quick photo op Prompto requested.

“Ugh, it’s so damn hot,” Noct complained after the photo was taken and wiped some sweat off of his forehead with his arm. “It’s most likely because we’re so close to the astral shard,” Ignis remarked and rolled up his sleeves. He left his jacket back in the car. “Alright, let’s head out!” Prompto called and retracted his tripod.

Placing their personal effects back into the Regalia, they hit the road again and arrived at Lestallum an hour and a half later. Feeling the wind and humidity blow past them in the underpass, the city welcomed them with a sultry sun above. Ignis parked the car and they all exited the vehicle.

“Nice little town,” Prompto remarked and looked around, taking in the relaxing atmosphere. “People seem friendly enough.”

The aroma of food coming from the stalls danced around the humid air, catching Gladio’s nose. “I smell meat skewers. Let’s get some after we meet up with Iris.”

The four explored the town to take in the local flavor and energy. It was certainly different from Crown City and was definitely a nice change of pace from hunting beasts and cave explorations. Gladio’s wandering eyes couldn’t help but look at all the females passing by in local clothing.

“The women here are… really well built,” he muttered to himself and checked out another one with an ice cream cone in hand, nearly breaking his neck in the process.

While walking along, Ignis couldn’t help but feel like they were being watched. He quickly looked over his shoulder with suspicion and found no one in the vicinity. As he turned back, he could’ve sworn he spotted a someone from his peripheral. They were already gone by the time he darted his eyes back.

“Ignis?” Prompto called. “You alright?” “Yes...” he hesitantly answered and glanced around once more for good measure before rejoining the group to The Leville. Everyone was relieved to see Gladio reunite with Iris, Talcott and Jared as they greeted one another at the hotel lobby. At least one good thing came from the trip. With everyone tired from traveling, they decided to check into the hotel and rest up. The front desk clerk called for Ignis after their accommodations were set up by Jared.

“Is something the matter with our rooms?” “No, sir. It’s just that there was something left for you,” the clerk responded and reached into a nearby drawer. He took out an envelope and handed it to him. “Did you see who gave this to you?” “Unfortunately not, sir. I couldn’t get a good look at their face.” “I see… Thank you.”

Ignis looked at the unaddressed item with furrowed eyebrows, unsure of who it could be from. Erring on the side of caution, he pocketed it and decided to read it upstairs in the room. After spending some time to catch up with what happened within Insomnia with Iris, the four boys were emotionally and mentally exhausted. Once everyone fell asleep, Ignis snuck out to the balcony for some privacy with the letter.

Staring at it with unease, he opened it and read the contents. It was from (Y/N). When they were children, they created a system and code names for each other in the event either one came into a life threatening situation. Should their messages get intercepted, it’d look like nothing more than gibberish to the third party.

He let out a small breath of disbelief upon reading it. From what he could decipher, her parents turned their allegiance to Niflheim, her brothers were killed and she’s either on the run or in hiding. The Niff’s attacks will start coming their way at a more aggressive pace and may be a while until they can see each other again. His disbelief then turned over to concern.

She used the initials W.R. as a sign off. It was the abbreviated codename her parents gave her.

Had she finally decided to fully embrace the part she fought so hard to deny?

“(Y/N)...” he whispered to himself and gripped the edge of the letter. “Please be safe.”

A few more days passed by and the boys found themselves staying around Cleigne occupied with hunts for funds, helping out the locals and getting the second Royal Arm. Upon blowing up the first nearby Niflheim base to exact revenge for Jared’s death, they realized they needed more information on the enemy. Vyv, the local tipster slash editor in chief for a magazine publishing company, reached out to them for pictures for some Niflheim bases.

When asked where he found out about the locations, all he said was his source wished to remain anonymous. Knowing they won’t get any more out of him, they hit the road to locate the bases. Pulling the Regalia aside upon finding the second base, Ignis noticed a figure surveying something at the top of the wall with the sun setting behind them. Squinting his eyes to get a better look, he was interrupted by Noct calling for him.

“We’re good, specs! Let’s get outta here before they decide to give us the full welcome wagon,” the prince noted.

The adviser nodded and made tracks to regroup with his friends. He turned to look back again, only to find the person was already gone.

“Iggy, you alright?” Gladio asked. “Yes...” he trailed off. “Just seeing things.” “Maybe you should clean your glasses,” Noct joked. “A fine idea.”

The four lost track of time wandering and going after extra hunts as the night crept up. Nearing a safe haven, exhausted and dirty from nature, a Red Giant suddenly ambushed the four with a swing of its blazing sword. Just the force from the aftershock alone knocked them all down. Prompto was the first to get up and fired a Starshell up in the air while Noct Warp-Striked the daemon as it flinched in pain. Gladio and Ignis backed Noct up by taking the creature’s blind spots. Frustrated with the two-legged ants, the beast roared angrily struck the ground, knocked them all off their feet from the shaking.

Having exhausted the last of their curatives from the previous hunt, they had to make a tactical retreat. With the daemon slowly creeping up to them step by thunderous step, the four conserved what stamina they had left to make a sprint for it. As it raised its sword above its head, the monster swung down at Ignis’ direction, only to have it intercepted by an invisible force. He staggered backwards from the reverberating ring of the clash of metals.

The figure he saw earlier at the top of the fort wall appeared out of thin air in front of him. The adviser quickly noticed the unmarked clothing made of flowing, air-light material; they were Phantom Fatigues.

There was only one family he knew who wore those. She faced the Red Giant with unflinching bravado with a pair of fabricated curved blades at her hands. The daemon quickly parried her attack with its giant sword and she quickly jumped back. The figure then wrote something illegible in the air followed with swirling red wisps surrounding her. Lunging at the creature again, she jumped up into the starlit night sky and landed the dual blades onto the shoulder blade of its sword arm. The giant roared in pain as she freed one blade, turned and beheaded it with one swift movement from behind.

Holy Ifrit. She took down a Red Giant alone.

As the daemon melted back into the black puddle it spawned from, the four boys saw their savior dismount back on the grassy earth, waver and collapse on the ground in a short beat. They slowly picked themselves back up and gathered near her fallen form.

“Who the hell is she?” Gladio panted out. “Whoever it is, they saved us,” Prompto chimed in. “That’s all that matters to me.” “It’s (Y/N),” Ignis finally answered in a hushed voice. “It appears she’s been watching us.” “Let’s get outta here first before more of these things wanna come out to play,” Noct finalized with a huff of breath.

Ignis scooped her up into his arms and hurriedly made their way to the haven. He felt (Y/N)’s muscles were stressed and heavy, her breathing shallow like she was teetering at Death’s door. While Gladio, Noct and Prompto set up the camping equipment, Ignis stayed by (Y/N)’s side to make sure she was comfortable. He folded his jacket up into a makeshift pillow for her. Upon removing her hood, he found it strange the glasses he was so used to seeing her wear were replaced with a mesh fabric blindfold. His worries and concerns were slowly drifting away now that she was in front of him.

When she slowly came to, a soft groan escaped her lips and her eyes fluttered open. They gradually widened to meet Ignis’ worried ones. Before he could say anything, (Y/N) jumped up and assumed a defensive position as panic rose up. Gladio and Noct jumped while Prompto and Ignis remained neutral. Heaving hard breaths, she looked like a cornered feral animal ready to pounce. 

“Whoa! Whoa!” Prompto soothed with his palms up. “(Y/N), i-it’s us! You’re safe.” “Where...” She spoke through a clenched jaw, still hyper-sensitive of her surroundings. Her veiled eyes darted around with fear. “Where are we?” “Camp,” the blond boy tranquilly answered. “We’re at a safe haven.”

She softened her stance and collapsed on the ground, letting a drawn out shaky breath. Her hand reached up and gripped the side of her head, lightly hissing in pain.

“(Y/N)...” Ignis softly called and reached out to her, only to have her violently flinch away. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed and shook in place.

He tried to get a good look at her; her fragile state of mind and heightened senses indicated she hadn’t slept much, if at all. Even the smallest sound could scare her away. He needed to act quickly before she decided to run.

“(Y/N)… I received your letter. At the hotel in Lestallum,” he quietly spoke. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

She merely nodded and wiped away some stray tears streaking down her cheek.

“Stay with us tonight. You’ll be safe here,” Ignis suggested in a soothing voice. 

She silently agreed with another nod of her head while the prince and the Shield let out a small breath of relief. The four boys then gathered at one end of the haven.

“So what should we do?” Noct asked and looked over his shoulder at (Y/N), placing his hands on his hips. “Leave her be,” Ignis replied. “Let’s get the fire going first and I’ll start food.” “Iggy, we can’t leave her like this,” Prompto objected. “Look at her!” “Prompto, just trust me,” he tiredly insisted. “There’s nothing we can do right now.” “You’ve… seen her like this before, haven’t you?” Gladio quietly inquired. “Unfortunately, yes.” He sighed and pushed his glasses up. “From when she locked herself away from the world.”

They went about their usual tasks while (Y/N) stayed stationary and silently observed. The pain from her temples died down to a pulsating numbing sensation like a caffeine withdrawal. Her eyes then wandered to Ignis’ back profile, who was in the middle of preparing dinner. She never realized how wide they were, as if he could shoulder the weight of the world on them. Sensing a presence to her left, her head quickly jerked to see Gladio with a cup in his hands.

“Here,” he softly said and handed her the mug. “Iggy said the tea would help.”

Meekly thanking the muscular man, she took it from him and slowly sipped it, taking in the aromas of honey and chrysanthemum. The two sat quietly. Eventually, Noct and Prompto made their way over to her end.

“How’re you feeling, (Y/N)?” Prompto gently asked with worried blue eyes. “Bit better, thanks,” she quietly answered hoarsely. “You really saved our asses back there,” Noct chimed in and rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks.”

She curtly nodded at the prince and went back to sipping from her cup, exuding an aura of not wanting to talk. Dinner was ready after a short moment and Ignis handed out everyone’s portion. He then gestured to (Y/N) to sit in his chair, to which she shook her head and declined.

“I’m fine on the ground,” she muttered out and stirred her food with her spoon. Tonight was Dry-Aged Tender Roast Stew. She took a small bite of food and paused to take in the flavor. She then took a bigger bite, as if trying to make sense of something. Her body felt like it was being healed and comforted with every spoonful.

It tasted different than his usual cooking, it was… deeper. She glanced up at his side profile, focused on eating and deep in thought. Did he make this with her in mind?

Ignis felt (Y/N)’s stare and turned to her.

“Is the food not to your liking?” “N-No. No...” She immediately looked down at her now empty bowl. “It was… delicious.” “I can see that.” Gladio noticed the amount of earth on her clothes and asked, “How long have you been out here by yourself?” “Four, five days, maybe...” “When was the last time you slept or ate?” “Four, five days...” “That would explain the paranoia and disorientation,” Ignis concluded. “Earlier today… that was you on top of the Niflheim fort, wasn’t it?” “I was looking for weak points,” (Y/N) responded emotionlessly and set her bowl down. “To infiltrate.” “By yourself?! You lookin’ to die?!” Gladio scolded. “I refuse sit by and watch everything burn.” She stared down the tattooed man down through her blindfold. “Not anymore.”

The five sat in silence while the fire crackled into the dark night. Prompto was the first to break the ice.

“So how come you’re wearing a blindfold, (Y/N)?”

She unconsciously reached up and gently touched it, trying to think of the words to explain.

“It’s… complicated.” “But you can still see, right?” the blond gunslinger asked with concern. “My vision’s more than substantial, yes...” She took a small breath and lightly sighed, fully aware of what’s running through their minds. “I’m sure you all have questions about what happened and I’ll… try my best to answer them.” Gladio was the first to jump at the opportunity. “So how were you able to take on that Giant alone?” She searched for the right way to answer him. “You were awakened,” Ignis assumed. “Forcefully, yes,” she dejectedly confirmed. “Awakened?” Noct asked. “Everyone in the (YL/N) have a different ability based on their personality,” she explained. “There are three ways to awaken; Kill someone closest to us, experience a traumatizing situation or willingly transfer your powers to the last person you’re thinking of before dying.”

She took a brief pause before continuing.

“It’s rare an ability’s repeated in our bloodline, but it’s happened. It’s considered a blessing from our ancestors. Both my brothers, Azrael and Chronos had that. It was only natural for my parents to think they were the gifted ones.” “So what’s your ability?” the crown prince enquired. “Remember how I told you at the start I was a taker?”

She inhaled and raised her right hand up. She scribbled the kanji of “sound” with her index finger. The character then dissipated into a wisp of air and almost instantaneously, a loud buzzing rang in their ears as they looked around in confusion. Prompto opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He grabbed his throat and tried again, only to be met with silence and started panicking. She then negated her previous action with a simple wave of her hand.

“–DUNGEON ALL OVER AGAIN–” the blond boy screamed and abruptly stopped by clasping his mouth shut with his hands. His voice echoed into the vast darkness, where distant roar from a daemon replied. “Do go on, (Y/N),” Ignis disregarded the blond boy’s outburst and casually rubbed his ear. “My ability, ‘Spirited Away,’ allows me to take things and use it to my advantage. When I took away ‘sound’, I could fully utilize my stealth and efficiently eliminate a threat. With the Red Giant, I took its ‘strength,’” she revealed. “However, I can only use half of what I take and the time-limit has built up to around three to four minutes.” “Do you have conditions that need to be met when you use it? What about the rebounds?” Ignis questioned with concern. “As expected of a Scientia to do their research...” she applauded. “It seems the only condition so far is the opposite party can’t know my ability exists. Otherwise, its effects are nullified. As for the rebound, well...” she wryly chuckled. “You saw for yourself.” “If your ability’s to ‘steal’ something, how was it that you used dual blades with the Red Giant then?” Noct questioned. “The answer to that is condition number three.” “Your brothers…” Ignis concluded. She merely nodded in silence as a confirmation and sighed heavily. “The blades, Silentium Ferro,” She held her hand out and summoned one with a grey haze exuding out of her arm. The curved black blade gleamed with ill will from the reflection of the camp fire. “Were Azrael’s. And…” (Y/N) removed her blindfold and slowly opened her eyes, revealing golden orange colored orbs. “These were Chronos’. The blood binding us makes rejecting them impossible. Our powers feed on the darkness of our souls, so the more we kill...” “The stronger you become,” Gladio finished.

(Y/N) then released Ferro from her hand and dissipated back into the air. Her expression was dark and emotionless, as if the memory of how she obtained her brothers’ relics played on repeat in her mind. “Their abilities are much more draining to use due to the weight of their sins compared to my own.” “You said your family forcefully awakened you...” Noct circled back. “What exactly happened?”

(Y/N) sighed and looked down at the rocky ground. “It started with the day of the treaty signing...”