#and a death tower you enter during the Dark Hour only

[sage-nebula]

Persona 4 is feeling a bit slow and boring so far in comparison to Persona 3, which is a bit weird considering they jump in with the murder mystery stuff pretty immediately. But it just feels like cutscene after cutscene without much opportunity to actually explore or do much, so . . . hopefully it'll pick up soon.

[marvelmusing]

Keep Your Judgement

Chapter One

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the Darkling and the Sun Summoner are supposed dead in the Fold, Ravka turns on Grisha, and you find yourself imprisoned by First Army soldiers. It’s then that you realise your power as a durast has been severely underutilised and perhaps you are meant for more.

Warnings: Grisha persecution, canon level violence and death, this entire series will take place during the events of season two so there will be spoilers

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

The angry glow of torches casts a flicker of orange light over the metal bars that encage you.

At the sound of a glass bottle shattering against the ground, the lingering dazedness from sleep leaves your body, activating your fight or flight response. But the First Army soldiers that captured you wouldn’t allow you a fair fight against them, binding your hands at the first opportunity, and the locks keeping you confined cannot be opened by your power while the shackles around your wrists are in place.

Beyond the group of soldiers that drink around their fire, the Fold towers high above. Thunder booms in the distance and the bone chilling screams of the volcra send a spike of fear through you.

Everyone knows the Fold has been shifting, swallowing towns, and leaving destruction behind in its wake. It is only a matter of time before it will reach you and the rest of the Grisha in the cages that surround yours.

Every now and then, when the soldiers are feeling particularly spiteful or overconfident, they will drag a Grisha out of their cage and walk them up to the Fold, pushing them into the billowing darkness to face the volcra.

Tears fill your eyes as you remember yesterday evening, when Fedoyr had been taken. He was your oldest friend, the first you had ever made at the Little Palace. When the soldiers had kicked and shoved him through their makeshift camp, you had pleaded for them to take you instead.

One of the soldiers had opened your cell, stood barely an inch away from you as tears spilled down your cheeks. Then he had told you that you would be the last one to enter the Fold, that they will make you watch each and every Grisha suffer and die before you meet the same fate.

Over the last few days, you have been testing the scope of your power, trying to manipulate anything around you. Working for the war effort had limited your opportunities to fully explore your power, too busy creating corecloth for keftas or new weaponry for the First Army – the same people that now hunt down Grisha and kill them.

Anti-Grisha sentiments had been growing for years now, with Zlatan rallying his forces in the West and Drüskelle attacking along the northern frontlines. Even in Os Alta, the otkazat’sya, nobles and commoners alike, had looked down on you.

With the appearance of the sun summoner, you and your fellow Grisha had been given true hope for the first time – that they might see your power as something good. After all, if they viewed a summoner like her as a miracle, shouldn’t your power own power also be seen as something extraordinary?

Though you certainly don’t feel extraordinary as you feel the pins in your shackles shift minutely, barely noticeable. As the hours drag on, the metal moves slowly as you unlock your shackles. Most of the soldiers are asleep now, aside from the two guards that circle around the camp and the cages, taking the same route every night.  

Sweat beads over your brows, every muscle in your arms strains with exertion, but you continue. As you feel the lock twisting, a hairsbreadth away from freedom, you run over everything you are about to do. Luckily, you’re wearing your kefta and after weeks of being helpless you’re ready to make them pay.

Watching the guards carefully, you wait until the moment they are both out of your sight. The shackles slacken around your wrists allowing you to slip free. In just under a minute, you will be back in their peripherals, putting you at risk of being caught.

Clasping your hands together, you lift the lever inside the lock on your cage, it moves without a sound and you step out. Silently, you stick to the shadows cast by the firelight, avoiding the guards and praying they don’t notice your cage is empty.

A heartrender is the first you manage to free, with the intention for her to dispose of the guards quietly. She nods resolutely when you tell her the plan and she disappears into the shadows to handle them. Two durasts are in the next cage, and once they are free you tell them to work on freeing the rest of the Grisha.

It’s at that moment, one of the soldiers by the fire notices movement, the purple of your kefta doing little to camouflage yourself amongst the darkness. He calls out to his friends, nudging the one closest to him as he stands, grabbing his gun and loading it.

“Get down!” you cry out as the first shot rings out.

Ducking behind a barrel, you focus on the materials around you, searching for anything that could help you. Concentrating on the barrel of his gun, you begin to twist the material, rendering it useless. He swears loudly, but you don’t have time to celebrate your victory as the others begin shooting.

The heartrender runs with her body lowered as she reaches a pile of wooden crates opposite you. She exchanges a determined look with you, and she folds her hands together, flexing her fingers in a motion instantly recognisable to you.

The three nearest soldiers clutch their chests, dropping their guns as blood spurts from their mouths, which provides you the opportunity to rush forwards. Clapping your hands together, you focus your power on the shimmering brass buttons attached to their uniforms. Twisting your palms, you curl the fingers on your dominant hand before thrusting it towards them.

The buttons snap from the thin threads tying them down, burying the metal deep into their bodies, pressing through skin and flesh into their vital organs. A few of them collapse instantly, a few stumble as they clutch their sides.

Beside you, the heartrender picks off those that had roused from sleep, joining the fight late. As one of them fires his gun, you bring your hands together before you flick your fingers to one side, casting his bullets away from the heartrender.

As she swings a punch at one who had managed to get too close, someone seizes you from behind, pining your arms back as another loops a wire around your neck, tugging hard. Instantly, your breathing becomes laboured as you gasp and thrash violently.

As dark curls at your vision, you seek out the material that’s pressing against your throat, putting every ounce of effort you have left into breaking it. Tears run hot down your face as desperation claws at your chest, frightened by the lack of air in your lungs.  

There’s a snap and suddenly you’re falling.

Heaving in air, you push yourself forwards, stumbling away from the two soldiers who had fallen back due to the momentum caused by the wire snapping. Quickly, you press your hands together, searching frantically for metal on their clothing.

One of them cries out as the metal clasps of his breeches dig into his abdomen. Red seeps over his white shirt as he writhes on the ground. When the other one stands, charging towards you, the power inside you acts instinctively. Seizing the thin chain around his neck, you tighten it around his throat.

He falls, fingers clutching frantically at the metal, but you are relentless. Stepping closer, you watch as he collapses, heaving for breath, veins bulging. With a flick of your fingers, you yank hard on the necklace. There’s a sickening crack. Then he stills.

Eyes wide with horror, the other soldier backs away, hands pressed painfully against his bleeding sides from where you had buried the metal inside him. Somehow, he stumbles to his feet and begins to run away.

Stunned by your own ability, that you had been able to kill him so easily, prevents you from furthering your attack. He almost reaches the edge of the camp before you begin to pursue him. As your power reaches for the stray coins in his trouser pocket, intending on digging them into his thigh, you sense something different. Not on the man.

The energy you sense sends a shiver over you, encouraging you to peer out into the darkness of the night.

It’s then that you see the shadows move.

Screams are the first thing you process, as the soldier you had been chasing is lifted up by a billowing column of darkness. Claws rip through his skin and a great yawning mouth sinks into his already bloody side. Once the creature is done with him, it dissolves into the night, leaving the body a crumpled heap on the ground.

The heartrender appears at your side, staring wide eyed at what had just happened as the rest of the Grisha stretch their legs and arms, cautiously basking in their newfound freedom.

As a hooded figure steps out the darkness, prompting the two of you to clasp your hands together, readying your power for a defensive measure.

“That won’t be necessary,” the advancing silhouette states calmly. A man’s voice.

As your power reaches out, you sense the corecloth draped over his body. Black corecloth, with lines of gold that shimmer lightly under the firelight. The figure lifts his hood, revealing a familiar face, sporting unfamiliar dark scars over his features.

The General. The Darkling. He survived the Fold.

For a moment, his eyes lock on yours and he lifts his chin slightly.

“I have returned.”

-

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 10: Troubled Water

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: Banter, fluff, ANGST, references to war/drowning/migraines, descriptions of pain/violence/slight injury, near-death experiences, super worried/concerned Obi, Reader really going through it 👀

Summary: A week following your and Obi-Wan's dalliance with The Muntuur, you decide to spend the day meditating on the famed Temple contemplation balcony. But after an unexpected visitor disrupts your concentration, you find yourself trapped within a new, wildly dangerous situation. Good thing Obi-Wan is nearby to share in the risk.

Song Inspo: Bridge Over Troubled Water — Simon & Garfunkel

Words: 13.4k (please take breaks I beg you)

A/n: Soooo splitting up this chapter wouldn't have made sense so y'all getting a two-for-one deal for the Part I finale, which hopefully makes up for the big delay lol. This will be the longest chapter I ever post I promise you. I’ve been so excited to write this one. It's a bit intense. Song inspo for this chapter is supes important. Like, it’s literally Obi singing to the reader, I CANNOT (there’s a line talking about his “silver girl” 😭)— ALSO updates will be slightly less frequent for the following chapters because we ‘bout to be officially entering tcw plot lines and imma need more time to review them lol. Also, will be using the next week or so to respond to requests 😋 As always, please let me know your thoughts in the comments, and be sure to tell me if you'd like to be added to the taglist. Anyways, enjoy 😈

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Oh, when darkness comes

And pain is all around

Like a bridge over troubled water

I will lay me down

— Paul Simon

The glittering, golden rays of Coruscant’s sun submerged your resting eyelids in its warmth, only to be abated by the partial shade of plump bushes whose orange-red gradients reigned proudly around the meditative stance you now held. That, and the occasional gust of cooling breeze, which brushed across your cheeks in its periodic hold on swaying shrubbery, trembling at its mercy. Still, despite this wind tunnel encircling the Temple’s primary spire, it was not enough to limit the sporadic vegetation’s effectiveness in secluding your crisscrossed posture from the rest of the rather exposed contemplation balcony that skirted the tower’s median.

You had discovered this bronze-floored platform of rest and meditation during that first week at the Temple, surmising its intended purpose from the few Jedi you’d spied engaging in those familiar, solitary explorations against a backdrop of the wider District. It was one of the primary reasons you’d decided to return to this spot when you had the chance— to engage in such like-minded behavior with fellow Jedi for the first time in many years.

For the first time since Qui-Gon wished the Force to be with you for the very last time.

However, despite earmarking the serene terrace’s smooth architecture and scattered plant life as a sensible spot for meditation, you’d only really had a chance to visit it this afternoon— three weeks since your arrival on Coruscant.

It was hard to forget that, in the days following your first Temple appearance, perplexing headaches had severely limited any propensity for introspective freedom. Initially, by coercing you to find the next best thing in terms of a quiet place to meditate by the suddenness with which they arrived. Frustrating the immersion necessary to delve deeply into your inner being.

But that was nothing compared to the searing pain which radiated throughout your body in each cognitive session following a certain, fateful hour—

In which you bestowed a name upon the affliction’s sensation in hopes of understanding it better.

Black Water.

You shook your head haphazardly, eyes still sealed shut while your subconscious attempted to dispel that particular thought without disrupting your current, and long sought after, communion with the Force.

With a lift of each wrist to protruding knees, you relaxed your palms open, as if to better catch the swirling energies like falling snowflakes that absorbed into chilled fingers. A gliding stream that energized your veins and stood unparalleled when weighed against the prior weeks you were desperately trying to put behind you.

In a way, finally tasting the Force’s unfathomably profound vibrancy with such renewed vigor was enough to comfortably remind yourself that you could dive as cavernously as you pleased, since the listlessness of penetrating headaches was now a time of the past.

And you really did have Obi-Wan to thank for that.

In an afternoon with The Muntuur, you’d unexpectedly uncovered that mindless sprints down seedy tunnels, hours with your nose stuck in a holobook’s blue glow, and playing copilot with Anakin were not your only options to dampen those sharp stabs into dull throbs. With a suddenness akin to explosive laughter, those moments that followed ignited an inner epiphany—

That the power you siphoned from the Force by focusing your mind on others acted as some sort of natural medicine, as a booster that couldn’t be equated.

Whether that was training beings in the intricacies of a long-lost Jedi device or finding the humor in the attempts that followed, your mind gradually discovered the strength that wafted from these seemingly trivial interactions like sparks off a campfire.

In hindsight, you kicked yourself for not recognizing the presence of this strange ability earlier. Though, having previously held the revered title of ‘Sole Planetary Being,’ it hadn’t given you much in terms of options for discovering it on your own. But even then, when finally faced with an endless sea of individuals following your daring escape from Hoth, it still all took much longer than you would have liked.

Mostly because, during those few heart-to-hearts with Anakin, you had appreciated that the baring of souls— for an instant even so fleeting it could be compared to the flick of a lightsaber— was enough to reconnect you to the Force’s lifeline like a falling anchor. It was something that helped you read the young Jedi just as well as it saved you from being launched into space by a certain garbage pit acceleration shield. Yet still, you hadn’t read it as anything more besides some possible understanding that a long-foretold prophecy drew between The Guardian and The Chosen.

You just never really put two and two together.

Until it stared you right in the migraine-dulled face with blue eyes, curled auburn hair, and a well-kept beard.

And, obviously, once this particular realization clicked, you were sure to lean into these revitalizing energies with every repeat opportunity that presented itself.

In the week that followed, you and Obi-Wan excitedly wrung out a few more collective hours with The Muntuur. In which he steadily absorbed the programming basics while you conditioned yourself to hold any semblance of composure during the Jedi’s subsequent twirls around invisible foes.

A skill you had yet to fully master.

And then, in the next few, rousing days, as the communications system was re-secured, and ramping up Council meetings dragged Kenobi away to organize and assign new deployments, you soon faced the inescapable reality of extending this perspective to other day-to-day moments that excluded the Jedi Master.

And you certainly did your best.

You’d draw on the vigor of swapping taunts with Anakin’s passionate personality in afternoon spars. And focus your senses on welcoming Master Windu’s signature into your thoughts— though still with little success. Even those periodic study sessions with Ahsoka became just as much a chance to learn more about the confident Padawan’s perspectives and person as a way to strengthen your mind against the piercing throbs that weakened like a dying candle following each of these interactions.

Consequently, it was during these same last four or five days that you’d finally found yourself beginning to open up to the beings who’d rescued you from Hoth. Because it wasn’t until you were forced to gather up fortitude from the rejuvenating effect of drawing on your connection’s ability to swirl in others— like plucking flower petals from a field of solidarity— did you realize your mistake since arriving on Hoth.

That, in an effort to come to terms with Qui-Gon’s death, you’d closed yourself off to the impact of other’s around you. Giving all of yourself to every prophetic instant with an emphasis on Anakin’s well-being without truly finding a moment for yourself to allow this new connection with the Order to take hold. Without permitting yourself the chance to absorb all the strengths such unity imbued.

Nonetheless, the more you unlocked your rigid chest to the beings surrounding you, the less frequent and tender those shooting pangs became, as they slunk away like the migration of a long winter season. All the way up until the last few days, in which, for a lovely change, the familiar, hammering pressure at your sinuses never came.

Still, no matter how well this unique manipulation of the Force aided you in your affliction, it still left you quite unsettled, weighing down your sternum like a misaligned rib.

You’d never heard of a Force Ability that drew upon a Jedi’s connection to other beings. Nor a power so unique that its strength was determined by the wielder’s level of familiarity with the associations they extracted from. A concept that immeasurably wise Jedi like Master Yoda and Master Windu would be quite uncertain of, you confidently ascertained. Because, in a way, this talent seemed to teeter on the edge of what was accepted by the Jedi Code by their strict standards.

It was moments like these that you’d wished Qui-Gon was here.

He always understood exactly what to say, and precisely what to do.

But your late Master was gone, and you could only make the best decision you could at this moment.

So, deciding to take a page out of his book, you determined it necessary to hold off on sharing this new tidbit with anyone, especially the Council, until you knew more.

Another chilly gust of wind whipped at your hair, snapping off a few clusters of brittle leaves that quivered past closed eyes, sparkling in the Force like bustling dots for your senses to discern. It deepened your concentration, imploring you to consider the sweeping impact of such an odd development. How it rippled into your past of isolation and everlasting hardship, and how it newly affected your approach of the Order. Mostly, you chewed over the possibility that finding strength in connecting with the Order and the beings it housed was all a wider symptom of your purpose.

You were The Guardian, after all. An individual whose entire existence premised on the notion of putting others before themselves. It was only rational that a creature of prophecy such as that would gather strength from those they were tasked with protecting.

Anakin, the Order, and, in a way, the Galaxy itself.

And, now that you’d finally reoriented your bearings, you were finally planning to put that new solidity to use.

Once more, you stretched your lungs with a rapturous inhale, taking in the contemplation balcony’s encompassing, earthy scents that barely cut the surrounding district’s gaseous fumes as they crawled over the fringe of your senses.

It was easy to see why Ahsoka complained about the lingering smells of speeder exhausts or freshly welded metal any time she considered meditating outdoors. Citing it as the primary example for her difficulty concentrating in such a space.

Yet, you found the opposite to be true.

After years of traversing anosmic ice sheets atop Meetra’s pungent fur coat, you relished in the cold’s ability to naturally numb your olfactory. And it turned out to be another one of the many factors on Hoth that disconnected you from other worlds. So, when finally given the chance to absorb the kaleidoscope of essences Coruscant had to offer, you couldn’t help but feel as if it tied you with a sturdier knot to the wider Galaxy’s intertwinement with the Force.

Maybe that’s why you’d finally found a yawing peace in this little alcove. Guarded by a half-circle of vermillion bushes that stood in staunch defiance against the acrid aromas climbing over and onto the platform’s edge. A nook so ethereally stilled that it nearly cleared your mind of the bustling city below. In an afternoon which snugged exposed arms and a poised neck in toasty rays that capered in equilibrium with the occasional gusts encircling the Temple’s main spire. A quiet locale that released clasped breaths, with each exhale further lightening your mind into the Force’s eternal flow.

“Hi.”

Creasing one eye open, you peeked out in search of the youthful voice, following its eager jump at your senses once drenched in tranquil quietude.

A young, human boy, maybe six or seven years, was leaning into the alcove’s overgrown doorway, small hand clutching a nearby bush as he idled. Jet black hair accented against the warm tints encircling you both, making room for strikingly green orbs to splash another vivid shade into your line of sight while his head curiosity tilted to observe you.

“Hi there,” you responded cordially, shutting your peering eye without a second thought.

“Who are you?” He asked, with a rapidity that implied you’d never dignified him with a response in the first place.

Quite blunt, you noted behind the soothing shadows of resting eyelids. But it was hard not to appreciate that quality. You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you were certainly like that at his age.

Stifling an endeared smile, you answered.

“My name is Silvey.”

“Nice to meet you, Master Silvey,” the youngling greeted brightly.

“Just Silvey is fine,” you gently countered. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you as well—“

“Petro,” he announced quickly, while you sensed his feet meandering toward your form. “Jedi Initiate.”

Returning to centering breaths in the cursory stillness, you could already feel how your words finally registered with the youngling, his meek boot passing by your attuned senses as he nudged a nearby, pattering pebble.

“Are you not a Jedi?” He bemused, pausing a meter away.

You confirmed. “I am.”

“Well, you seem too old to be a Padawan.”

You chuckled lightly at that, wrenching your eyes open to stare at the unfazed youngling with a feigned dare in your gradual stray from the interconnectivity of a previously solidified, meditative state.

“You’re right, Petro. I’m a knight. I just prefer the name. Without the title.”

Forehead furrowing in uncertainty, he squatted down, joining you with his own meditative stance that sacrificed elements of tranquility in its desperate attempt to mirror yours.

But you, instead, followed by resting your hands on either side. Using them as pillars to support your weight that leaned back in an attempt to encourage relaxation in the young boy.

And also, because, it looked like your session was reaching beyond the point of no return.

“Why?”

A good question, you admitted. You didn’t really have an answer for Ahsoka either when you asked her to avoid that particular designation. Though when she did pose a similar inquiry, you somewhat knew in the back of your mind that the personal values that’d emerged from your unusual upbringing were certainly a factor.

The reasoning you presented then should do, you presumed

“I suppose having a rank divides me from those who do not share it. And, as a Jedi, connecting with the Force through all living beings is a part of who I am. It’s harder to do that if I’m placed on a pedestal above them.”

The boy’s nose crinkled, almost as if he’d just registered the District’s sickly fumes that billowed into a drifting fog from below.

“I always thought you were supposed to call Masters that to be respectful. Because they know so much, and they can do those big flips in the air with their lightsabers. And I’m still stuck on Form One.”

Well, he certainly wasn’t wrong, you mused. In fact, his astute analysis was detailed enough to bring you back to threading memories of that rainy afternoon. When Obi-Wan found you at the outer edge of the Senate District, and the burden of piercing stabs dissipated in the hours that followed. Attributable to what was aptly described as invariably sound advice, or, ‘knowing so much.’

You hummed contentedly at the memory.

“They are quite wise, aren’t they?”

But it was clear that such a jettisoned comment did not swing the pendulum of Petro’s mind in any particular direction regarding your previous statement.

Time to take a new approach, you decided.

“Do you believe in the value of all living beings?”

“I guess,” he mumbled indecisively.

Your brows skeptically raised as you probed his response.

“You guess?”

Petro’s voice gave way to an embittered tone. “I don’t like those Separatists we’re fighting. Especially General Grievous. When I get my lightsaber, I’m gonna challenge him to a duel and destroy him for the Republic.”

You took pause at the vexation which plumed into the Force and prodded at your senses. Swelling into cascading clouds throughout the proximate ambiance from a being who, if stood on the tips of their toes, would barely reach four feet.

“It was not long ago that those worlds were once part of the Republic. Would it surprise you to know that even the beings on the side of the Separatists are just as important to the Jedi?”

Scratching his knee, Petro unshackled his gaze to wander upwards, green eyes unfixed as he spoke simply.

“I don’t understand. The Separatists aren’t our friends anymore because the Jedi are fighting them in a war. How can we hurt them and care about them at the same time?”

Your eyes crinkled in serenity.

“Because all life is sacred, young Petro. No matter what side any being is on. No matter what rank they hold.”

You exhaled, gaze standing firm as candor seeped from your pores.

“Though I must admit, I’m also quite confused about our place as peacekeepers in this war. But as long as you preserve that belief in your heart, I’m sure it will take you far in your journey as a Jedi.”

He nodded, that ever so slightly ripening mind absorbing your words. But, like with most maturing Jedi, it didn’t take long for a satisfied grin to peak through the abating wonder that had once lined his features.

“Thanks, Mas—“

Petro cut himself off, inhaling as his teeth caught up with his brain.

“Thanks, Silvey.”

You offered a soft smile.

“Is it easier to mediate here?” He continued, topic shifting just as abruptly as he spoke. “This is my first time visiting the contemplation balcony. I know it’s usually meant for Padawans and Knights, but I’ve been having trouble meditating on my own.”

You considered the youngling’s words, panning your gaze by the swaying orange-red bushes and toward the distant cityscape infested by disparate skylanes.

“Yes, it’s quite nice here.”

You faced the black-haired Initiate.

“And usually very quiet.”

But Petro simply stared at you blankly as that thinly veiled joke vaulted over his head.

“You can meditate here with me if you’d like,” you offered, hoping to bide some silence without discouraging the young fellow.

But the boy was way ahead of you, shutting his eyes with a beaming expression before you even had a chance to finish your sentence.

And, for a moment, it was calm.

The sway of rustling shrubbery and distant whirs of dashing speeders reentered your senses. You found yourself relaxing your shoulders back into the swirling stream, resting your wrists on each knee once more to deepen your connection. Quicker than the weeks before, you could feel its tingling energies crawl up your forearms and widen your perception of the swarming, broad region. The many Jedi circulating through local walkways, training, or even meditating nearby as well as the thousands of beings going about their daily lives only within a few blocks of the Temple.

Their distant mutterings. Their footsteps. The way with which their signatures contributed to Coruscant’s hive. Even young Petro, his squirming facial muscles and bouncing knee tugging at your senses as he attempted his own communion with the Force.

But, of course, it never did last for long.

“How old are you?”

You kept your vision obscured, hoping not to lose your progress in intensifying your concentration as you swiftly responded.

“That’s a secret.”

“Why are your eyes silver?”

“Family trait.”

“What color is your lightsaber? I bet it’s green.”

“Gray.”

“Gray!? That’s so cool! I’ve never heard of a gray Kyber crystal! Did you find it like that or—“

A sharp spasm speared through your mind, stunning your eyes wide open as your posture collapsed forward. Arms flinging out toward the ground to catch yourself.

With every extractable effort, you tried to absorb the debilitating sensation, hoping that if you just let it flow through you, it would pass as quickly as it came. A pain that, for an instant, felt as if it dwarfed all the headaches of the last several weeks.

“Are you ok, Silvey? I’m sorry if I said something wrong—“

“No,” you heaved, catching your breath as the feeling slowly dulled into the background.

Glancing up at the nervous boy, you offered a tired smile, reaching out into the Force’s eternal connectivity to focus on the beings around you.

“You did nothing wrong, Petro. I’m just—“

Another flash of white-hot agony, searing into your mind a sustained hammering that yanked from feebly quivering lips a distressed groan. Your fingernails dug into the squeaking bronzed platform, almost as if to distract your head from its steadily swelling excruciation with the torment of scraping skin against metal.

Yet, it only produced a mere fraction of the pain.

You couldn’t help it. It was the only way to avoid screaming out at the blinding sensation. That, and the anesthetic of grinding your teeth— an operation which made it equally impossible to speak.

“Get….”

Another penetrating stab ripped open your jaw, unshackling a jarring yell as your heartbeat began to quicken against a heaving chest.

“Get what?!” Petro implored, panicked, as he sprung to his feet.

“Is there something I should get?! What do I get?!”

“…help” you croaked.

“Help?” He sounded, tasting the consonants in his mouth.

Then, his alarmed gaze exploded in recognition.

“Oh, help!” The black-haired boy exclaimed, waving his arms while the cogs of his mind zipped into overdrive.

“Get help! I can do that! I can do that.”

Petro froze, dropping into a lower hush as he calmly addressed himself.

“I can do that.”

Bright green eyes snapped back up at your writhing, keeled-over form.

“I’ll be right back, Silvey! Don’t move!”

And with that, the energized youngling hopped into a sprint, barreling through the doorway out of your meditation alcove. Skidding to the left in an attempt to avoid one of the larger vermillion shrubs before disappearing around its lush corner.

But that still left you, reaching up to rigidly clutch your head out of instinct. Fingernails furrowing into disheveled hair and scrapping against the irritated scalp below just as ravenously as the floor.

Because, to you, superficial discomfort stood as the sole avenue to divert your attention from your paling face and shaking hands. As a means to grasp onto escaping tendrils of concentration amidst spiraling torment. You knew that intense focus was your best chance at ejecting these perforating splashes of acid from your mind. That intertwining with the Force’s undying strength would be the only pillar maintaining your teetering consciousness.

So, you plunged into it. Enveloping yourself deeper into the circulating stream’s linking medium with the aim of drawing stability from the beings who resided within and beyond the Temple.

From the Order itself.

Hoping that your brief theater to their energies would prove potent enough to pave you a path out of this torture.

Until it wasn’t.

Black spots began to cloud your vision, bobbing in from your peripheral, swelling to obscure the still swinging bushes and greater District’s landscape. Smothering you into a sea of darkness as if the Maker themself reached up into the sky and darkened the Coruscanti sun with a flick.

It was then when you prepared yourself for what you assumed was coming.

Snapping your eyes shut, you braced for the sudden dizziness that you were sure would take hold. A weightlessness in your stomach destined to shoot up your esophagus. A heated copper platform soon to meet your pained skull with an unceremonious slam.

But none of that ever happened.

Instead, the darkness began to dissipate. Clearing like a temporary fog that was simply passing through.

But this was no ordinary haze, it seemed.

Because in its place, with the continued volatile pangs slowing your eyes in their attempt to refocus, emerged a realm you had no words to fully describe.

And no idea for how you got there.

Your neck was angled downwards when your orbs first began to blink away the daze as the headache of before dissipated into a faraway hum. A position that encouraged you to confoundedly rub those same, silver eyes the instant you realized you were suddenly standing.

And on a ground quite unfamiliar to you, no less.

Beneath your feet ran an overlayed pile of black rocks, smooth yet jagged as they hugged your brown boots with slippery bodies.

You lurched back, disorientation from the drastically altered sight driving your feet as unknown, overcast skies darkened your movements. A freezing ache from the shock attacking your hands while you moved.

Until you quickly realized that each brisk heel rapidly digging away brought your legs deeper into the pile’s mass like a quicksand.

You went rigid, taking swift note of the sharp stones that now slithered around your ankles with a consistency akin to having been dipped in oil.

Quickening heartbeats shot up your gaze as you tried to reorient yourself within these new surroundings. Secretly hoping that perhaps you’d accidentally stumbled into some strange rock exhibit on the contemplation balcony.

But it didn’t take long to surmise that belief’s impossibility. Because to your left and right and as far as the human eye could see, was an endless accumulation of overlapping rock mounds. Rolling like black sand dunes on a lifeless island on which you now stood.

And solidifying your credence that, wherever you were, you definitely weren’t in the Temple anymore.

Still, that wasn’t the only new terrain that infiltrated your senses. By a flickering gleam a few meters ahead, you abruptly spotted a body of water that skirted the rock formations. A strange moat that seemed to stand still atop a bottomless pit of murky shadows with an eery calmness that made it nearly invisible to the naked eye, despite it being located just under your nose.

Then, still raising your head, you spied another structure just beyond the channel. A jagged rock face of stacked boulders that bore a towering plateau reaching twenty meters into the gray sky, measuring at least the same distance from which its foundation stood beyond the trench. You assumed from the few, fluttering wisps of green grass oscillating over its edge, that the sky-scraping crag’s inviolability clearly rivaled the unstable land on which you now stood. One that collectively squirmed from the same occasional gusts of cold, damp breeze, which left the calm waters unaffected.

Decidedly, you needed to find a way over there.

With considerably more caution, you stepped toward the standing water, trusting in your ability to inch close enough in order to gauge its depth without sinking too dangerously below the slick rocks as they continued to wriggle up your legs. Still, each lumbered stride became increasingly difficult while the hill’s pressurized grip tightened around each calf before squeezing at your knees.

But, in spite of that noticeable roadblock, and following several strained, jerking steps, you were finally able to near the bank. Drawing close enough to gaze into the river’s spine-chilling, shadowy underbelly.

Angling downward, you reached out a hand with the hope of splashing some dulled skylight into its depths for a better view. Perhaps it was more shallow than you initially surmised, which would certainly make your journey across its waters much easier.

But as your fingers graced its surface, you were completely unprepared for the jolting fiery shock that surged up your arm, triggering you to yank it away as if you’d just been splashed by pure, volcanic ash.

You hissed from the sting, cradling your arm while staring deeper into the river’s shadowy depths that rippled from the sudden distortion.

Within seconds of the minute cascading wavelet stretching and dissipating into the river’s outer rims, a handful of bubbles trickled toward the surface from inside its murkiest blotches. The first set effervescing skyward only to, one after another, snap and crackle like watery fireworks whose speckled flakes stung your arms stuck in the crossfire at the river’s bank.

Soon, though, the last gurgle fizzed into a silent pause. A deafening calmness purveying the unknown land to which you’d somehow been transported. Providing an opportunity to formulate some new strategy of escape.

An instant immediately stolen.

In a snap, the waters became overwhelmed by a swarming array of roiling bubbles. A rapidly expanding feat that began to overtake the stream. Transforming the once-still liquid into a gurgling mess as if a thousand lightsabers ignited its expanse from below to tip the already blistering lake over into a chain reaction of pure, uncontrollable entropy.

Your lips formed a thin line as you hummed to yourself.

“This is gonna be a problem.”

—

Obi-Wan Kenobi continued his steady jog down the main Spire’s winding staircase. Nut brown robe fluttering by each pearly step while the bearded Jedi considered just how long he’d been waiting for this pertinent moment.

Or, at least, for the assignments finally allocated at the Council meeting this morning. One that he was just now departing.

It had been six, prolonged days brimming with Jedi deployments following the communications system’s final clearance for secure use during sensitive operations. One after another, fellow Masters and Knights, accompanied by the occasional Padawan, circled through the Council’s chambers like an endless revolving door of diverse faces. Accepting each new mission with complete decorum before bowing to the seated assembly to make their exit. Ensuring space for the next General to enter the yellow rotunda of decorative inscriptions and curtain walls before encircling chairs and the distant panorama of Coruscant’s tallest structures.

All to receive critical orders.

That included Anakin and Ahsoka, who, by request of Master Windu, had departed from the Temple just the other day for the Bith System.

All and all, it had been nearly a week of Kenobi’s colleagues rejoining their clone forces to tackle the Separatist threat. After almost a month of virtually twiddling his thumbs while the men in his battalion laid down their lives without him. A scenario that weighed on the Master Jedi.

Thank the Maker that was no longer the case.

The first set of Council members— Obi-Wan Kenobi, Plo Koon, and Shaak Ti— had finally received their first returning assignments since the full communications lockdown. But while those other Masters were expected to lead their respective battalions alone or be the sole Jedi representative on other worlds, for the first time since Anakin was his Padawan, Kenobi would have a companion.

A being, by Master Yoda, he was tasked with integrating into the Order. And, as a high-ranking Council member, one whose true identity Kenobi needed to protect. An individual who had mentioned to him earlier their plans of meditating on the contemplation balcony before his morning meeting. And because of that, a Jedi he knew exactly where to find to inform them about their mutual deployment scheduled for tomorrow morning.

You.

The auburn-haired man paused mid-step, brown boot hovering over the next, grayed stair for an instant before gently touching down as his senses attuned to their surroundings. His ears perked while a subtle distortion washed by stilled feet, like the elusive splash of a puddle that just happened to knick the edge of his shoe.

With a hand on the thick, wooden guardrail, The General’s curious head smoothly tilted over the staircase, as if to spy the source of the atmosphere’s twitch that he found so strangely difficult to describe by simply peering at the level below.

His brows twisted in slight confusion. Mostly because, after conducting a quick analysis of his environment, the Master Jedi found the subtle sensation’s presence to be quite foreign to him. It wasn’t anything he believed to be particularly concerning. Though he couldn’t admit to having encountered it before. No matter his countless meditation sessions or travels to other worlds.

Perhaps that too was why, despite its innocuous nature, the sudden shift in the encompassing hum of the Force still gave him pause.

Resting his eyelids, Obi-Wan focused his mind on the strange discrepancy, reaching out with the tendrils of his senses to ascertain its truth.

It was as if, within the Force’s steadily taught string, a subtle dip pried down one insignificant section of its intrinsic flow. As if in its everlasting stream that moved throughout every being and world, a fly became caught, with wings too soaked to free itself.

Overall, it was a feeling that wasn’t quite… right. Something that shouldn’t necessarily be there, he gleaned.

An otherwise benign inconsistency Kenobi was confident you wouldn’t mind him investigating. Even if it meant a delay in hearing the details of your upcoming, joint mission.

The blue-eyed Jedi resumed his trek down the spiraling staircase, spry footsteps leading his loosened form. This time with his aim shifted toward the curious ridge that etched into the Force and canopied his senses.

With ample time to reach the variability and a wandering mind, Obi-Wan took the empty moment to consider the Grand Master’s decisions regarding his delayed assignment.

Of course, The General understood the logic behind Master Yoda’s insistence that non-Council members be deployed first while those left behind delegated such commissions. If the Republic expected to recoup its battlefield losses, it was wisest to finalize those strategies with the senior decision-makers still in one place. All while those uninvolved in the planning process took those first, few important strides toward implementing the Grand Army’s ever-evolving designs.

Still, the wait became arduous. The bearded Jedi was usually more patient when it came to such matters as these. And, to be sure, he wasn’t particularly enthused about the encroaching sleepless nights or measureless tasks that were destined to cut into his meditation time.

But now that most of the overarching battalion strategies tailored for the Jedi’s return had been finalized, General Kenobi could not wait any longer to dig his heels back into every effort the Republic put forward to preserve peace in a Galaxy threatened by shadowy forces. Agents of the Dark Side like Count Dooku who, week-by-week, further convinced Master Yoda of his Sith identity.

One of two beings Obi-Wan could never risk permitting either of which to entertain the idea of your existence.

“Master Kenobi!”

Traversing the last few stairs onto the Spire’s median platform, Obi-Wan promptly raised his head toward the adolescent voice. Taking note of its high-strung manner as a dash of jet-black locks jounced into the lower creases of his vision, followed by a flash of green orbs ablaze with panic.

He tilted his head inquisitively.

“Yes, youngling? Is there something wrong?”

But the winded, wide-eyed boy couldn’t answer, mouth agape like a Bluefish thrust from the ocean. Instead, he flung out one distressed arm, grasping Kenobi’s own to tug it frantically toward the platforms behind while breathless words tumbled from trembling teeth.

“We… we need help! Silvey needs someone… someone to help them!”

A raw chill surged up Obi-Wan’s spine, spreading across his cheeks like icy roots that temporarily sucked the color from his lips. Providing enough of a momentary shock at the boy’s words to nudge Kenobi’s heels forward as the youngling dragged him along.

The Guardian, in need of help…

Considering how stubbornly independent you’d always been, this notion certainly worried the Jed Master. It would’ve taken a great deal for you to request any sort of assistance. And from a youngling, no less…

Something must’ve been seriously wrong.

And, as the Jedi whose only indefinite assignment to himself was to ensure your protection, the idea of you being seriously injured or worse fleetingly triggered Obi-Wan’s anxieties about the future in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Not since his experiences as Qui-Gon’s Padawan, at least.

“Slow down. Tell me what happened to Silvey. Are they alright?”

Both Kenobi and the youngling fell in step, the former walking briskly with the semi-jogging boy across the rotunda’s cobalt blue carpet while he continued to tug at the Jedi Master’s sleeve.

“I don’t know!” He huffed, slightly sniffling as he gazed up at the elder Jedi with teary eyes. “We were just talking and they fell and they looked like they were in a lot of pain! They told me to get help, so I did.”

Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, attempting to calm his mind from the initial surprise.

He had an idea of what could have caused this, yet it didn’t make any sense. The bearded man thought that these stress-induced headaches had resolved. At least, that’s what you had told him. He’d become convinced that your efforts to focus that bright mind on differing matters had finally compelled them to fade into the background.

But, if that was the case, what could have possibly changed all that in the matter of a day? Of an hour, since last he saw you?

“Where are they right now?” Kenobi coolly spoke as agile Jedi and youngling stepped onto the contemplation balcony, the gleaming rays of Coruscant’s blazing, yellow sun beating down on the pensive man’s searching face.

“I told them to wait in the Redweeds Circle where they were meditating.”

Obi-Wan halted, forcing the glassy-eyed yet somewhat more sedated boy to skid to a stop, fingers still tightly clasped to his brown sleeve as he frighteningly gazed up at the bearded man.

“I will go and check on Silvey, youngling. But I have one very important task for you while I do that.”

The boy emphatically nodded, lifting up a pair of knuckles to swipe away a dribble of snot leaking down his lips. Still, he listened, green eyes glistening.

Kenobi exhaled, kneeling down to address the boy at his level. “What is your name?”

“Petro,” the youngling sniffled.

“Young Petro, I want you to run up to the High Council Chambers and find Master Windu. Tell him what you told me and where to find us.”

A slight twinkle flickered in the boy’s eye. “I can do that.”

“I know you can,” Obi-Wan graciously smiled while resting a hand on his knee to stand once more. “Now go. I will see to it that Silvey is alright. Have no fear. You did well.”

The black hair boy nodded.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi,” Petro vocalized, a modest upturn gracing the corners of his mouth.

With a pivot of his foot, the youngling trotted back toward the inner spire, beginning his lengthy journey to the tower’s highest point where the Council chambers lay. Still, despite his frazzled signature and hurried pace, Petro still found a moment to call back to Master Jedi who’d just resumed his trek toward your being.

“I hope Silvey will be ok!”

And Obi-Wan certainly agreed with him.

Trailing the copper-tinted curvature of the Spire’s outdoor platform, Kenobi quickly sped toward the Redweeds Circle, passing the occasional Jedi and botanical display in his tempered jog to reach you. He paid no mind to the blue lekku that hung smoothly from either side of Master Aayla Secura’s head as he glided by her deep, meditative trance at the terrace’s outer border without a second thought. He brushed off the District streets’ eddying fumes, accompanied by an unbroken chain of droning speeders and stirring winds that echoed down the path toward the secluded divisions of the balcony.

But the instant his bounding steps brought him within reach of those familiar fiery shrubs, Obi-Wan suddenly found, with his legs uneasily immobilized just before the alcove’s parted entrance, that a familiar distortion had weaved its way back into his senses. And in a fashion that couldn’t simply be ignored.

Because it was the same bend in the Force that he’d sensed on the main Spire’s stairway just moments ago.

A discrepancy, Master Kenobi realized, as he was once again driven to spin through the verdant corner and onto the meditative alcove, was coming from you.

Drinking in your slumped-over spine and cradled head in a blink, Obi-Wan’s unexpectedly spurring heartbeat bolted him toward your figure, stirred to quicken his pace as another pained groan escaped your lips.

“Silvey,” Obi-Wan called out, concern tugging at his sternum while he slowed to kneel beside you.

Eyeing your obscured countenance, Obi-Wan tried to slightly lean in, hoping to catch a glimpse of your face to help gauge the severity of your condition.

But that wouldn’t change the fact that Kenobi had never seen such a strong, physical reaction like this from you before. Especially with regard to the migraines of the last week.

“What is happening? Is it the headaches? Have they come back?”

“Obi-Wan?” You croaked, flicking your head out of cupped palms in startled search of him.

But what Obi-Wan saw nearly made him stumble out of your line of vision altogether.

In place of your brilliant, silver eyes had emerged a thin, gray film, wrapped around the delicate orbs like a taught bedsheet. Seemingly acting as a buffer in your vision during your aimless search for Obi-Wan, despite him being knelt directly in front of your wandering gaze.

“Where are you?” You intensely inquired, vision oscillating from side to side.

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. “I’m right next to you.”

Puzzlement jerked at your brows. “I- uh. I don’t see you.”

“You’re sitting on the contemplation balcony with me.”

Lifting a hand, he reached out for you, placing his palm on your sun-kissed shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze as a freezing tinge enveloped his fingertips.

“Do you feel my hand?”

“No, I can only feel this damned headache!” You groaned. “And I’m gonna have to disagree with you, Obi-Wan. Wherever I am, it’s definitely not the balcony, and it’s pretty hard to move.” The Master Jedi spied as your hand shot back up to massage your temple. “It doesn’t help that this ache is weighing me down.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth devolved into a thin line, worry etched across his features as he absorbed your troubling words.

“I’m not sure I quite understand. Are you saying you’re seeing some other… place?”

“If you can call it that, yeah.”

The bearded Jedi’s blue eyes narrowed, unsettlement bubbling like a steeping tea at the uncertainty of your condition.

“Tell me what you see.”

“I’m…”

Kenobi dropped his hand while your head swiveled, scanning the encircling vermillion bushes and bronzed terrace below as if you could truly see those landmarks through swathed orbs.

“I’m on some sort of… island. But it’s made up of these strange rocks. They’re oily, covered in soot, and… seem to act like quicksand around my feet. Uh, there’s a lake? It’s surrounding the island. But, Obi-Wan?”

Your neck swiveled like a droid urgently conducting a scan as you again searched for him, uncertainty contorting your features.

“I’m here, Silvey,” Kenobi reassured, scooting his knees against the smoothed floor to resettle directly in front of you as your cloudy eyes stilled straight ahead.

“What is it?” He implored, attentive stare unmoving. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“The water… it’s… black. It’s so black it’s like a shadow in my hand.”

The Jedi Master did not like the sound of that at all.

Kenobi steadily exhaled, a swirling array of thoughts fighting for dominance while he attempted to ascertain what could cause such a condition. And, more importantly, what he could do to stave off its symptoms to ensure your stability, even if temporary.

“What worries me is…,” his eyes refocused on your shifting gaze as words trickled past his ears. “…Is that’s what I called my headaches. The name Master Windu told me to assign to it. Black Water. And now that’s what I see. But when I touched it, it started to boil.”

Your brows contorted in realization, jaw tightening while you spoke.

“I think it’s gonna flood the island…”

Instantly, Kenobi felt his forehead will toward yours. Slowing just inches before your nose as if proximity would make his voice clearer to you. As if it would bring your mind back from being trapped inside this bizarre realm.

“Can you get out?” He implored, a serious quickness charging his tone. “Is there somewhere you can go?”

“There’s another tall island on the opposite side, but I can’t reach—“

An audible gasp ladened with visceral pain tumbled from your tongue, followed by a stiff exhale from flaring nostrils. It was enough to draw Obi-Wan to launch his hands out to clutch your upper arms, holding them so staunchly like it was the only thing keeping you talking. Like it was the only way to keep your body from disappearing too.

He was supposed to be protecting The Guardian, and, by the unnerving sight before him, it looked like he was already failing at that task. A notion that only drove him to accelerate his spoken tempo in an attempt to seek the answers he needed to help you.

“What was that?” He worried, eyes softening at pain transparently emanating from your features. “What’s wrong? Tell me what’s happening.”

“The waves,” you swallowed with stitched brows, rubbing the back of your hand while you spoke. “It splashed my hand. They’re moving closer. And every time I step back to get away, I sink deeper into the island. I don’t think I can walk any further. And I can’t use the Force here to pull myself out.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze sunk, allowing his arms to fall to his side as he settled into folded legs in an effort to parse out this rapidly developing situation.

Master Windu still hadn’t arrived, and there was no way Kenobi was leaving you by yourself to deal with this unpredictable vision only to fetch a distant Healer. If he could call it a vision. The General had certainly never heard of a Jedi becoming fully imprisoned within their own mind by one.

Though, despite being trapped by his own expeditious attempts to decipher the imminent disturbance, the uneasy man still noticed out of the crest of his vision a splash of reddened skin with peeling flakes as your soothing fingers uncovered the striking development.

And it was a sight perplexing enough to compel Kenobi to grab your wrist, just when you began to pull it away.

“Silvey…” he spoke lowly. “You hand.”

“What?”

“It’s red.”

“What? You can see the burn?” You asked, confusion dripping from your cheeks. “How? You’re not in my mind.”

“It’s here. It’s on your hand here. On the balcony.”

“Oh,” you vocalized, scrunching your nose as you continued.

“That’s really not good.”

Kenobi’s already galvanized chest hammered deeper, threatening to fracture a rib.

If, much like The Muntuur, this strange affliction within your mind had a devastating effect in the real world, it was quite possible that were this dubious river to flood your mind’s island before you had the chance to escape, your body would likely go down with it.

And, given your tightening jaw and sucking, painful breaths in your continued purveyance of invisible surroundings, Obi-Wan at least knew this:

That he had to do something.

It was his duty, after all. Even if that meant putting his mind, or life, on the line for The Guardian.

Not just for you. Or Anakin. Or the Order.

But for the Galaxy itself.

For Qui-Gon.

Positioning his hands on each knee, Kenobi rested his posture into a taught line, hoping to focus his racing thoughts on reaching out to the swirling energies that glided throughout him. Paying careful attention to narrowly avoid that dip in the stream that characterized your being and infected the flow.

“Hold on,” he murmured, releasing his mind into the Force. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Obi-Wan, no,” you rejected, vehemently shaking your head. “We still don’t know what this is. This is my mind we’re talking about. You know, the one Master Yoda had trouble analyzing? The one Master Windu hasn’t broken through? It’s too dangerous for you to even try exploring it in this state.”

“You forget,” he jested, pressing against the severely weakened barriers to your signature while his eyelids swung shut. “Facing danger in service of others is a Jedi specialty.”

But despite the confidence leaking from the bearded Jedi’s whimsical words, it was still not enough to prepare him for the astonishing sight that beclouded his bright blue orbs as Master Kenobi shouldered through the thin, protective layer that gave way to your inner mind.

—

You knew the uphill battle of hiking away from steadily rising waters lapping at a disappearing shore would inevitably sink you far enough into the mound’s squirming pebbles to trap you indefinitely. Thwarting away any hope of putting another inch between you and the frothing black liquid whose gurgling waves rolled over each other as thickly as a bubbling oil field.

You just didn’t realize that waist-deep would be the cutoff.

The deadly river roiled just a few meters away, unleashing its intensifying rage with sporadic splashes scattering far enough to swipe searing lines across the sides of your neck and forearms.

Yet, even then, the distance still appeared skewed, mostly by steaming rocks transferring the stream’s burning heat against the protective layer your robe provided. Its slender fabric barely cut their progressing fever while they buzzed with an intensity akin to the campfire rocks you remember scavenging during those late-night cave explorations on Hoth. And, with memories of prematurely dispersing those pebbles with the help of a sleeve, it didn’t take long for you to realize, eyes fixed on the unfortunate sight, that your ash cloak’s thickness wouldn’t be enough to stave off the shards’ uniformly climbing heat for long.

“It appears you could use a hand!”

Your gaze flung upwards, eyes narrowing pryingly at the rough skirt of the grassy precipice from which a carrying voice resounded down the crag and bounced across the humming buzz of scalding waters, all the way to you. Vision sharpening through rising smoke plumes, a hazy emergence snagged your focus while a brown robe flapping around similarly tinted boots crystallized in the fog.

You crossed your arms, elbows gracing the wriggling, sizzling pebbles as an incredulous smirk charmed your expression.

“Last time I checked, that was my line.”

Your brows furrowed in bewilderment.

“Wait—“ you exclaimed, having fully registered Kenobi’s presence within the inner facets of your troubled mind while your arms released to gesticulate your point.

“—How are you here?! Master Windu and I have been working for weeks to even access my thoughts!”

“Whatever this is, it has severely weakened your barriers!” He called out, a swelling wind swishing auburn curls and a shadow of unease clouding his countenance.

Soon, Obi-Wan’s lost stare raised to absorb your mutual surroundings in his scan of the endless, inky mounds whose rolling bodies far surpassed your being into the outstanding, elusive expanse. And, inside those few, short seconds, it became clear that whatever he saw germinated an element of disfavor that stitched like a spasm deep into his blue orbs.

“I sense a great darkness there!”

“Fantastic,” you huffed lowly, sarcasm nurturing its steady drip while you returned toward the preoccupied Jedi with a pointed stare and wry chuckle.

“Still think it’s just stress, Master Kenobi?” You poked, raising a brow.

And you could tell from the Jedi’s mixed expression that he realized he definitely deserved that.

A searing slap at your cheek drew out an uncontrollable hiss, snapping your gaze back toward the sizzling rapids. During the progression of your exchange, the raging waters had crept close enough to now densely crackle less than a meter away from your confined frame.

“Uh, any ideas?” You vocalized, nervously eyeing the encroaching, greasy waters.

“You’re going to be alright!” Obi-Wan shouted, arms extending over the cliff side with fingers pointed toward your figure below about thirty meters away. “I believe I can access the Force here! Don’t move!”

“Thanks for the advice!” You deadpanned, feeling a slight pressure begin to tighten under your armpits, and bow your elbows. “I was originally planning to practice Form Four while stuck in these quicksand rocks, but now I know not to do that.”

With the rise of his palms, your torso harshly tugged upwards, bringing the borderline of writhing pebbles roughly below your rear while the belligerent waters licked at the unstable land mere feet from your anchored form.

“You know what I meant!” He objected tensely, forearms straining in his continual heave skywards.

Another squeezed yank, and most of your heated legs were finally freed. Loose, burning shales tumbled back into the cavity hatched by limbs kicking out to freedom during your hasty retreat to elbow onto flatter land.

And just in the nick of time too.

Boiling liquid instantly engulfed the mound that once had you ensnared. Only seconds after you’d finally, gratingly freed a boot momentary wedged among interlocked shales.

Still, despite your newfound freedom, you couldn’t help but refocus your mind back on the black river’s looming essence as you were promptly reminded by the mounting deluge that your temporary haven would be just that.

Temporary.

“Obi-Wan…” you uneasily droned, sights locked on the molasses-like liquid traveling intelligently across the last few inches that divided its scorching heat from your fidgeting, sweaty feet.

“I don’t understand!” He nervously exclaimed, drawing your stare while he viciously grappled with thin air before his arms fell with a grunt. “I can’t move the rocks! Can you see anything that could be used to block the overflow?! Or to help you move away?!”

“No!” you shouted, fruitlessly surveying the endless mounds of black shards to your rear before facing the quite visually unsettled Jedi. “And if I move back any more I’ll get stuck again!”

Tensely biting your lip, you stretched your neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of any way across the crashing waterway— a loose path of stepping stones perhaps— when your vision once again spied the rocky cliff towering fiercely in support of Obi-Wan’s faraway figure. And while you scrutinized the plateau’s craggy outer foundation that fabricated a makeshift shoreline, you did happen to spot amidst its rugged construction two round, graphite boulders of particular interest balancing against each other toward the divide.

They stood at about half your size and appeared sturdy to move, you assessed. Making them maybe, just maybe, durable enough to get you off this death trap of an island.

So, extending your mind through elongated fingers, you attempted to clasp onto one of the shapes.

That was before learning the hard way that on that faraway shore too, you could still not manipulate the Force.

“What is it?!” Obi-Wan called out, having seemingly noticed your distant focus and budding frustration.

“Those boulders below you!” You replied, motioning for his probing peer to traverse back over the river’s murky depths. “Can you move them?!”

“I can certainly try!” He exclaimed.

An echoing grunt reverberated down the cliffside while Kenobi struggled to negotiate the boulders’ dense builds. Even from your remote spot through clouds of smoky fog and under overcast, gray skies, you could almost glimpse the blossoming of thick veins that tirelessly pulsed throughout both of the Jedi’s tautened arms.

But it wasn’t before the obvious strain brought Obi-Wan’s two, forcibly planted feet teetering just at the cliff’s edge that you felt compelled to somehow strategize a new plan. Because no matter how dangerously close those bubbling waves came, you were far more driven by the heightened danger Kenobi inched toward with each onerous yank at the structures below, effectively stiffening every muscle in your body.

Until the tiniest twitch in the right boulder stifled your breath.

Within the span of a blink of an eye, Kenobi had, by all accounts, unearthed the brawn demanded to barely lift the grayed boulder, prying it from the delicately balanced pile that slumped noisily from its removal.

He hovered it through the splintering waters, securing the object against crashing waves that threatened its journey. Holding it steady enough to shakily maneuver its shape before finally allowing it to clatter inches before your feet.

“I’d like to know why you can access the Force in my mind when I can’t!” You complained, grappling onto the giant stone with grayed sleeves clutched between your fingers as you rose atop its structure, two rapid heartbeats before the dark waters encircled the drifting, black rocks below.

“Never mind that now!” He remarked. “I’m going to build you a bridge!”

“You can’t!” You called out, boulder quivering up your legs from the rushing stream. “It took nearly all your energy to move just one of them!”

His eyes dilated with apprehension at the truth behind your words. Until that was all washed away by an element of reluctant resolve.

“When you have another suggestion I’d be happy to take it under advisement! But, for now, this is the plan!”

With rounded lips, you sighed, whispering lowly to yourself as you considered this rapidly developing predicament that you somehow now roped Obi-Wan into.

“This is not gonna end well…”

So, for those next several, tense minutes, once you acquiesced to Kenobi’s plan, it became a desperate race between you and the troubled waters persistently frothing its deadly torrent always just below. Obi-Wan constructed you a path to deliverance brick by brick, with a cacophony of strained grunts and shouts to watch the slippery corners that, following one misstep, were sure to lead to a scalding demise. It certainly didn’t help that the river had once again proved its near sentience, with the blubbering, hot liquid countering your bid for freedom by striving to surge and crack against the ascending bridge, passion like an Alessian Terror Moth to a Glowlamp.

Though, despite the restless undercurrents of anxiety breaking against your own subconscious from the absolute instantly that was this situation, a small part of you eased at the ongoing effectiveness of this thrown-together strategy Kenobi had arranged. With every available effort, the auburn-haired Jedi briskly lugged each shiftable boulder ahead of the flooding river and rising steam. And, you had to admit, his perseverance had certainly helped alleviate any general unease surrounding the plan’s ill-advised nature, calming nerves that you didn’t even realize had heightened before the adrenaline began to shake out of your system.

That was, until his complete exhaustion started to manifest through heavy perspires, drenching his face and tunic and stiffening his increasingly stuttering movements. Especially once you passed the waterway’s halfway point, those sluggish maneuverings of trembling boulders barely lifting off the ground soon became a new cause for concern.

“You need to take a break,” you advised with a comforting gaze and more standard projection, now able to make out the bearded Jedi’s entirely drained complexion from just twelve meters away. “The water will still be safely low enough for a few minutes at least.”

All Master Kenobi could do was nod while labored breaths struggled in and out of his lungs, hands reaching for rigid knees as he subsumed the brief instant greedily, fatigue dripping down every inch of his hunched body.

It was really difficult to see him like this, you absorbed, eyes glued to the troubling sight. Obi-Wan was by far one of the most intelligent and capable Jedi you’d met during your time at the Temple. So much so, that had Qui-Gon seen this day, you knew he would’ve been immeasurably proud.

Then, to watch him crumble within the confines of your strangely infected mind? Putting every piece of himself as he was known to do in service of others? Toward some crisis you could’ve escaped on your own had you held out for just a little bit longer?

You felt awfully guilty.

You sighed, attention so strongly levied on the recovering man just above and beyond that you almost missed the nearly imperceptible, detached rattlings that ostensibly reflected from the torrent below.

Ears perked, you glanced around the set of stacked boulders that precariously buttressed your balancing, skyward frame. Allowing your severely debilitated senses to lead you into a turn as you tracked the clatter toward the flooded land from which you just barely escaped. Still, despite being initially met with the broad flood of shadows, you encouraged your vision to center.

It was a decision that empowered you to quickly spy a thread of black specks emerge from the dark waters, swelling quickly in their rapid, squirming approach up the bridge with movements so coordinated you assumed they had to have been connected by some invisible thread.

“What in the Wampa…” you whispered to yourself while trying to discern this strange sight with squinting eyes.

Neck craning to take a closer look, you soon recognized the flecks’ familiar snaggy shape and greasy complexion as they melted into a pebbled form.

With nowhere else to go, and a healthy bought of curiosity driving your gaze, you observed as the black rocks slithered up the last few boulders, wondering if some strange wind trap created by the manmade bridge had somehow twisted these shards up and out of their sodden cradle.

But you were swiftly proven wrong when, madly wrapping around your leg like an unshakable boa constrictor, the reactive pebbles seized you into a downward tumble, preventing you a chance to even react. Still, your eyes grew wide at the twist while a startled Kenobi called out after your disappearing figure.

Your back slammed roughly against the bridge with each jolt, forcing you to twist and wrestle for an imperfection to grip. All the while blistering rocks jabbed into your leg with a wildness that made you gasp.

With fingernails continuing their descending scratches against a flux of smooth surfaces, you finally felt your arm give as it locked onto an indent in one of the jutting boulders. Eliciting another groan while the gravely serpent continued to tug at your commandeered limb just before the simmering heat that now suddenly reigned a centimeter below.

With a heartbeat exploding so hotly it felt as if the organ itself would stop altogether, you floundered to face the earthy creature. Spine twisting and arms tightly hugging the boulder beneath while you attempted to somehow come face-to-face with its pants-shredding clutch, hopefully without plummeting off either edge of the narrowed bridge.

Soon, however, by the swing of your other limb flipping your body, you were finally able to secure a newfound position of dominance. With the resulting urgency that rushed through your veins playing a pivotal role in raising your uncaged leg to rally a string of unfettered stomps across the organism’s linked skeleton.

One by one, you snapped off each wedge of the unwelcome parasite, feeling each incisive, prodding sting until you watched the last pebble fall with a hiss and whine back into the deluge. One that, any second, threatened to nip at your ankles.

“Nevermind!” You yelled, leaping to your feet in a desperate race back up those few, squeaky boulders you’d collapsed down.

“No time!” You continued, finally reaching the bridge’s incomplete brink and nearly stumbling over it altogether before halting just in time to spot an aura of relief wash over Obi-Wan’s features the instant you emerged.

“The rocks are alive and they’re trying to kill me!”

Kenobi’s head retracted in befuddlement from registering your words.

“What?”

Another clamor of pattering clicks rang out from the rear, soon overwhelmed by a racket of grating cracks and splashing plunges that whipped your head so quick it took a full second for your hair to catch up.

Alert eyes stilling on the alarming sight, you quickly registered that, in place of the bridge segment once fastened to the tumultuous waters below, now stood a fractured crater. In fact, the structure’s first disappeared steps into ascendancy had overflowed with squirming oily shards and rushing black liquid. The same conscious elements that began twirling like waterspouts with the intention of shimmying up to the next set of boulders, only to girdle the masses with a tight squeeze that sent another section of the bridge bursting into useless fragments.

Staunchly pointing at the rear development, you addressed the perplexed Jedi once again.

“Now they’re eating the bridge!”

“What?!”

But it didn’t take long for Master Kenobi to understand what you meant, as the last few levels of the hazardously erected configuration began to buckle under readily collapsing supports, drawing you into a falter while you tried to steady yourself atop the highest-reaching boulder.

Clearly, this situation was becoming far more dangerous than you could have ever predicted. And with that came a very real realization—

That the longer Obi-Wan remained here in his futile attempts to save you, the more jeopardy he’d be entrenching himself in.

You’d had your fair share of tight circumstances before. And, no matter how dire this one seemed, you knew by your track record that you could probably figure some way out. But, each time you faced down another bloodthirsty Wampa with a broken arm and fractured clavicle, or defended against greedy pirates who’d temporarily stolen your lightsaber, or even traversed icy plains after becoming lost in the dead of night, you still felt comfortable taking such risks.

Because you had faced them alone.

There was no one else you really had to look out for that prevented you from subjecting yourself to the perils necessary to survive.

Until now.

With this danger unlike any other.

One that you could barely predict. And one that had tangible consequences transferable to the physical realm.

One that siphoned the security you usually experienced in attempting such perilous schemes into unruly disquietude. At least since an unpredictable element by the name Obi-Wan Kenobi illuminated the fact that you’d now be endangering a life other than your own.

The land he stood upon was much safer than the vanishing oily mounds below. You understood that. But such a belief would only hold true for so long. It was just a matter of time before the troubled waters threatened to swell and engulf the bearded Jedi whose features contorted in uncertainty as he stared down at you.

Even if he waited until the absolute last second to escape— at the instant when your dreadful doom was sealed— you didn’t believe that the Master Jedi could pry himself from your mind fast enough. At least, not before it was wholly consumed by slippery shadows.

And, most importantly, if you knew one thing, you knew this, and with the confidence of a simple math equation no less:

That if Kenobi got hurt because of you, you would never forgive yourself.

In the short time he’d known you, he had already done so much. Acted as an incendiary to healing discoveries about yourself that you had no previous notion of exploring. Stayed at your side during those inner battles of painful migraines despite your initial attempts to push him away for his own protection. Truly, you couldn’t allow a man as kind and affecting as that to put his life on the line for you. Not when the Galaxy needed Jedi like him.

Not when his death would feel like losing a piece of Qui-Gon all over again.

Besides, being The Guardian of The Chosen One didn’t just mean protecting Anakin, but anyone who you believed to be a part of his destiny.

And you were quite confident that his former Master certainly qualified.

With the prospect of an untimely and horribly painful end slapping you in the face, your sheet-white face finally gravitated toward the unsettled blue-eyed man above you. For the first time since you were both thrown into this bizarre mess, the two of you exchanged a lingering gaze, silently arguing about the best next step as you gradually came to terms with the prospect that your insatiable luck may have finally run its course.

But while your features drowned in realism and pursed lips, Obi-Wan’s seemed to harden with sharpened brows and a newly robust determination, one that threatened to cut down your soberness with a mighty slash.

Because, if you remembered correctly, Obi-Wan Kenobi never believed in any such thing as luck.

“You need to jump—“

“—You need to go.”

His jaw tightened.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“The water is rising too quickly, Obi-Wan. You took so many rocks from the cliff side that it will probably collapse once it nears my position—“

Another quake in the tottering bridge jumbled your feet onto a slippery edge, nearly toppling you off the bridge altogether before a strong yank tugged you back by the hood of your robe.

Quickly, you replanted your boots, releasing a shuddery exhale as you spotted Obi-Wan’s outstretched fist lunged toward your figure, an agitated sigh falling past his evenly firm lips.

“There is no choice, Silvey!” He sternly repeated, heavily lowering his outstretched arm. “You must jump!”

“It’s a death sentence either way!” You yelled before dropping into a pragmatic tone.

“It’s too far for me without my abilities. I’ll fall.”

“Then we’ll work together,” he suggested, closing his eyes and releasing his spine as he spoke.

“Focus on my connection to the Force—“

With literally not a second to lose, you did as the wise Jedi advised, pressingly reflecting his posture amid roaring waves and collapsing boulders that you did your best to drown out with eyelids that fluttered closed.

“—And repel the shadows.”

But it was hard to sense his meaning.

The instant you tried to reach out to Kenobi’s figure with every branching fiber of your being, all that you were met with was a brick wall. As if the rising steam had congealed into some sort of smoky barrier that reigned all around you and deepened the blur of your senses. Suffocating your connection to these strange surroundings in a way you didn’t think was possible. And in a way that you couldn’t control.

“It will feel like a bright flicker in the darkness.”

Darkness? Could that be what this was? A pure, unadulterated aura of the Dark Side? And encompassing a portion of your grievously debilitated mind, no less.

You’d never had the occasion to sense the Dark Side of the Force, having only known one light side Jedi during your isolation on Hoth. You didn’t even know what it felt like. Master Kenobi had mentioned he could sense it here. Perhaps that was why your connection to the Force felt indefinitely cut off.

And, if that was the case, then maybe you were going about this all wrong.

Rather than force the shadows away in their immovable form, rather than controlling forces quite unknown to you, perhaps you could glide through them.

And the instant you endeavored through this tactic, you soon realized that Kenobi was right.

As you reached out again, this time wading past the confusing blockades that bloated into mist as you tapped them away like drifting bubbles in search of anything familiar, you finally tasted it.

A gentle orb of glaring light that, despite its size, radiated with the strength of a thousand suns.

An energy so sweet, tangible, and linking within these ubiquitous, observational shadows, that you felt lured with shaky fingers to touch it.

“Find your connection, Silvey. Whatever you must do, find your way back to the light.”

An aura so intoxicating, that you took a bite.

An unparalleled sensation of light surged through your veins. Radiating up your arms and throughout your body with an intensity that wrenched your eyes open with a sharp inhale as you felt the tingling buzz of the Force reactivate through standing hairs across your frame.

After a moment to settle into this stream’s bright yet anomalously quivering touch, with prickling cheeks gradually subsiding, you finally felt able to breathe into the remarkable feeling. First encouraging your nerves to cool while electrified eyes refocused on the auburn-haired man above, who appeared similarly disoriented and breathless.

You couldn’t blame him, though. With a quick glance at the deluge below and the rapidly ascending shards bouncing behind, you both registered that you had mere seconds to make a decision. Still, despite perceiving a reconnection to at least some piece of the Force through Obi-Wan’s dependable guidance— no matter how strong that initial connection felt— you couldn’t help but sense it to be much weaker than you’d ever experienced in the real world.

If you were being completely honest, as you readied yourself with heels digging into the slate boulder, you didn’t think this was going to work.

But waiting any longer meant giving more time for the troubled waters to reach Obi-Wan.

And that was unacceptable.

You needed to move.

With a hand boldly cast down, he yelled for a final time, imperious, blue stare burrowing into yours.

“Jump!”

And, so, you did.

With this newfound connection to the Force, the faith it partially imbued, and the man you needed to protect in dire need of saving—

You jumped.

Your feet soared above the lapping waves of piping liquid as the bridge’s final pillar shattered, toppling the structure’s remains into gurgling oblivion. You felt the blistering swipes of the ensuing, loose droplets at your ankles, catapulted by the boulders’ untimely descent while you neared the overhanging, verdant ridge from which Kenobi’s hand remained firmly extended with eyes locked tensely on your gliding frame.

However, what you had judiciously feared, and what the Master Jedi hadn’t seemingly predicted, was that, despite the helpful boost in mending a fraction of your Light Side connection, the degree to which you became entwined with the distant Force appeared to fall short of your immediate needs.

With ash-like steam thrusting against your face, you began to lose propulsion too soon, leading to the drastic turn that sent you hurdling toward a lower portion of the cliff face with no discernible crevices to grab ahold of.

Subconsciously, your legs began to kick, arms outstretched to brace yourself as if that would cushion the inevitable crash that was sure to bounce you back into the boiling, black river rumbling just below.

But that darkness never came.

In an instant, Obi-Wan had vaulted over the precipice, using one hand to grab the crag’s lip while he swung in between your collision course. Tirelessly flexing arm outstretched, he slid a loose, sweaty palm into yours, clutching it tightly before ripping you out of your momentum and into a brief twirl, leaving you both to dangerously dangle feet above the boiling stream that steamed your swaying boots.

“Maker…Are you insane?!” You screamed, a crimson outrage blooming on your face at the sheer recklessness with which he acted. “Why did you do that?!”

“I seem to have learned…a thing or two…from our mutual friend,” he grunted, attention focused on your upward escape while his knuckles whitened on either end.

You didn’t want to believe it, but you were confident in its truth.

If you stayed like this, you both were going to fall.

“Obi-Wan,” you gulped, a chill running up your spine against the smoldering background as you tried to calm your voice.

“You need to let me go.”

His bewildered gaze snapped toward yours.

“Absolutely not!”

“You’re just going to get yourself killed…” you explained, ogling him sensitively.

His eyes softened.

“Then save us both,” he hushed. “The Galaxy needs you just as much as Anakin.”

Kenobi’s eyes warily flickered past your figure as his voice intensified.

“Now, whatever you may have done earlier, I suggest you try it again before we both become another ingredient in this ghastly stew!”

You followed his stare, catching sight of the same encroaching waves that churned inches from your toes, thickly crashing and gurgling up black spouts over the array of sporadic boulders.

Wait.

“I have an idea!” You exclaimed, digits extending toward the smoky, gray body of a nearby boulder. “Cover any exposed skin!”

Tapping into that tiny spark of light blooming in your chest, and in cahoots with any and all available facets of energy remaining in your wearied body, you heaved the giant rock, clenching every possible muscle in an effort to nudge it upwards.

With a guttural cry you had no idea was your own bouncing off the cliff side and across the rumbling river, the rounded mass finally broke free, following a sedated, wobbly climb up the crag toward both of your hanging bodies.

Only a third of the way up, you became numb, extremities tingling while you focused your entire consciousness on ensuring this last-ditch plan’s success. So much so, that as your eyelids drooped in and out of blurred vision, you didn’t even realize that your clasped palm had begun to slip.

Until Kenobi let out a pained gasp, taking on the brunt of the collective weight by clamping onto the remaining loose fingers so tightly that you would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t broken one or two.

But that extra two or three seconds was all you needed. Within that frame, you’d raised the dense boulder to hover just beside Obi-Wan’s swaying form, providing a stepping stone of sorts to the ledge just above.

“Climb,” you arduously breathed, skin itching as your muscles threatened to give out.

And you certainly didn’t need to tell him twice.

Using his robe to protect himself from the rock’s blistering heat, Master Kenobi swung one leg and then the other onto its rounded body, heaving himself up with every procurable limb that wasn’t attached to you. All the while you desperately held the boulder in place as black dots began to dance at the creases of your vision.

Swiftly, he found his bearings, using the newfound surface to lunge onto the grassy knoll that characterized the plateau’s surface before immediately swiveling to drag you up with him.

“Let go of the boulder!” He exclaimed while his other arm reached down in urgent search of your Force-wielding fingers.

But the moment he told you to release it, those digits fell limp, collapsing just as quickly against your side as the giant rock plummeted back down to the dark, troubled waters below.

Yet, crouched over the cliffside, Obi-Wan refused to give up.

Tracing the outline of your slumped limb with the back of his hand, you felt the warm thread eventually reach your frozen palm, grasping it eagerly before the Jedi Master tugged you upwards by both arms.

Slowly, but surely, you felt your body lift while rising steam dissipated into a cold sweat, eventually permitting weak feet to mindlessly carry you over the partition and onto solid, green ground that pushed up against your soles.

You blinked.

“Silvey?”

The familiar sway of red-orange bushes and distant commotion of cityscape bustlings suffused your senses. In time, you spotted Obi-Wan, crouched directly in front of you with a particularly troubled tint lining his features and a warm palm resting gently atop a shoulder that you barely distinguished as your own.

You were back.

But something felt…

Off.

You shot up, legs buckling slightly as if you were trying to walk for the very first time in years. Brushing off Obi-Wan’s touch with the back of your hand in an attempt to continue your driving stumble forward.

“Wait a moment,” Obi-Wan insisted while bolting upwards, propelling opened palms to hover by your sides as you momentarily stilled in between them. “Take it slow—“

“What is going on here?”

Squinting, you spied the familiar figure of Master Windu, brows crossed in stoic reprimand as he whisked toward you both, brown cloak whipping behind him. With a wandering gaze, you narrowly spotted out of the far corner of your eye a familiar set of black locks. Peaking out from an inconspicuous hiding place behind one of the far vermillion shrubs that betrayed their location in its periodic swerves against the breeze.

“Master Windu,” Kenobi called out, waving him over. “We require your assistance.”

But with a body that, for some reason, felt uncannily like your own, it became hard to focus.

Master Windu eyed you critically. “What happened?”

A dizziness overtook the distant migraine of before, black splotches from your mind returning with a vengefully accelerating frequency. It blurred your vision into a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors that soon mutated the eyes, and noses, and lips of the men before you into an unnatural, dripping putty.

Your mouth opened disjointedly, yet no words came out.

“Master Kenobi, what’s going on?”

You reached for your head.

“I’m… unsure. Silvey? Is it still the headache?”

Weightlessness.

“Woah woah.”

Warmth.

“Youngling, fetch us a Healer—“

“Silvey, can you hear me?”

“—And then see if Master Yoda is available.”

“Silvey?”

End Part I: Rescue of the Fates

Taglist

@js-favnanadoongi

@panandinpain0

@randomwriter435

@soleywoley

@burnthecheshirewitch

[ohnono1]

A Teaser for my Future Story.

Happy @barrissday everyone! I wanted to join in on the fun. So in Honor of my favorite Mirialan, I wanted to give you guys a peek at my future story. A story with 2 franchise into one. Here you go!

______________________________________________________________

What felt like hours riding across the Plains of Rohan, Barriss could only wonder what she could face in this new world. It was a day ago when Alex and Ahsoka freed her from her cell. None would dare free a traitor. None would free a murder. But that didn’t stop Alex from seeing the light still burning inside her. With the Galaxy now hunting for the trio, it seemed hopeless to outrun and hide. But the memories of home still lingered in Alex’s mind. 

Here they are, a planet in the Outer Rim. A place far from the Republic and the Separatist’s influence. A place where they can lay low and help the Mirialan. Barriss has been given a second chance. Not only is she receiving help from her friends, but also Alex’s four old friends. A Wizard, a Dwarf, an Elf, and a Man. 

Coming over the small hill, the 6 riders halted. There they saw a town. Primarily built of wood. A dike and mighty wall and thorny fence encircled it. A green Terrance laid within the town. The Great Halls of Men. The Capital of Rohan, Edoras.

The sight of the wooden town dumbfounded the two girls. They expected the city to have some sort of technology. But from where they stood, it was obvious there was an absence of tech. It was also breath of fresh air from massive towers that dwarfed an ordinary person on Coruscant. 

“Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld.” The White Wizard announced to others. “There dwells Theoden, King of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown. Saruman’s hold over King Theoden is now very strong.”

From the words of Alex and the other four Fellowship members about the Fallen Wizard, Ahsoka and Barriss increasingly became nervous. Though they never met Saruman, they can only infer that he was dangerous. More dangerous an Sith Lord. 

“Can we do anything to help him?” Barriss asks Gandalf. Concerned about the situation. 

“Yes.” Gandalf replied. “But don’t think that you’ll be welcome here. The people of this city have never seen anything like you and Ahsoka before. With Saruman’s hold over the Halls, his spies could reveal that the Jedis have returned to Middle Earth. It could spell danger for you. Best you three cover yourself.” 

Barriss’ worries only increased more. But understands that revealing themselves could get both her, Ahsoka, and Alex into trouble. 

“Be Careful what you say. Do not look for welcome here.” *The group continued onward towards Edoras. The Jedis immediately use the hoods to cover themselves the best they could. Hoping to their appearance won’t spell trouble. 

______________________________________________________________

Inside the Hall, the White Lady of Rohan, Eowyn kneels at the bedside of her recently dead cousin, Theodred. She was the only one who’s grieving over the lost of the King’s son. Her Uncle whose mind is overtaken and doesn’t react when his niece gives him the news of the death of his son, her brother Eomer banished from Rohan, she was alone. 

As Eowyn continues crying by the bedside, the Counselor to Theoden and the mole for Saruman Grima Wormtongue enters the room. Standing by the doorway, watching Eowyn. 

“Oh, he must’ve died sometime during the night.” The pale mole softly spoke as he walks towards grieving woman. “What a tragedy for the king to lose his only and heir.” He moves and sits on the bed. “I understand. His passing is hard to accept. Especially now that your brother has deserted you.” Grima finishes as he places his hand on Eowyn’s shoulder.

“Leave me alone snake!” Eowyn jumps up as she stands away from the Sycophant. Unfazed by his “words” of comfort.

“But you are alone. Who knows what you’ve spoken to the darkness.” The Flatterer gets up from the bed and begins to walk around the Shieldmaiden. “In the bitter watches of the night… when all your life seems to shrink. The walls of your bower closing in about you. A hutch to trammel some wild thing in.” 

“So fair. So cold.” Grima places his hand to Eowyn’s cheek as she closes her eyes. Running his hand down her throat. “Like a morning of pale spring…. Still clinging to winter’s chill.”

Tears slowly formed in Eowyn’s eyes. Breathing steadily and softly as Grima continues to feel her neck. But opens her eyes. The woman stared at him for a moment. His words of comfort did not work on Eowyn. Regaining herself.

“Your words are poison.” 

She runs out of the room to the entrance of the Golden Hall. Leaving Grima disappointed. Passing through the doors of the Hall, she stands staring out at the wooden city. She felt hopeless. Her brother is gone, her uncle under the influence of Saruman, and her cousin dead. As she stares out, she sees three horses from the distance. Riding towards Edoras. The flagpole next to her, flutters loosen and is carried away by the wind. Signaling the state of decay the kingdom of Rohan is in. 

Gandalf and the others arrive to the gates of Edoras. As they move in, from behind Aragorn and Alex reaches the outside gates. Both see the Rohan standard flutters falling down to the ground next to them. Before entering the city, Alex quickly summons the flutters with the Force to his hand. Quickly putting the flag away. 

The group entered Edoras. Ahsoka and Barriss looked at the surroundings. Trying to make sense of the place. Confusion quickly overtook them. It was obvious that there was an absence of any form of technology. There were no droids, crates, nothing. What Alex had told them. Any type of technology doesn’t exist in Middle Earth. As the company continued their way towards the hall, they received sidelongs looks from villagers. Aragorn, Alex, and Ahsoka would see a maiden dressed in white, standing in front of the Golden Hall.

The anxiety increased further for Ahsoka and Barriss. They sensed the despair among the people. Barriss continued to hide herself in her hood. The memories of the Clone Wars flooded back into her mind. Barriss recalled the times where she saw towns or city in the similar state as Rohan.  

“You’ll find more cheer in a graveyard.” Gimli comments as he looks at the situation Rohan is in and the side-longing looks from the villagers. 

As her looked back up at the Golden Hall, Aragorn sees that the maiden is gone. 

______________________________________________________________

This is my First Story Project. So I’m new to this. Also sorry if the dialogue or description is wack, I’m new to this again. So please, lend me some advice so that this story can turn out perfect. Not only that but Tumblr as well. So to sum all of this up, I’m new to all of this. So please help me these sort of things. Thank you.

Coming soon: Star Wars: War of the Ring.

Happy Barriss Day!

P.S. Expect the first chapter somewhere this month. Due to my laziness and work for skhool, it will be a while. Sorry.

[svchengss]

a second chance

PAIRING | spiderman!mark lee x gwen stacy!reader

GENRE | angst, fluff, spiderman!au

WARNINGS | no way home spoilers, death, self-blaming

WORD COUNT | 588 words

LISTEN TO | fourth of july // sufjan stevens

it all happened in the blink of an eye. mark lee, the neighbourhood’s friendly spiderman was walking through a dark alley when some kind of golden, sparkly porthole magically showed up from a short distance. rather than being scared, he actually approached the unknown creation, also hearing voices saying “yo, mark, it’s us! come here!”. he was bedazzled upon whoever might be calling his name. he then entered the door, only to find two complete strangers who also exchanged puzzled glances when he removed his mask.

it then came to his knowledge that there are three mark lee’s, all coming from different universes, all having the spiderman alter ego. that quiet night then turned 360°, him joining forces with the other two mark lee’s in curing the villains evilness. yes, it might be impossible but they had hope - and they succeeded.

while he was busy trying to inject the serum into dr. connor’s lizard-like limbs, he could hear mj’s screaming as she fell back, down towards the ground. as if it’s all going in slow motion, the other mark lee jumped down in efforts to catch her body - only to be knocked off by green goblin’s glider. immediately, mark ran towards the edge and jumped off, catching mj’s waist and landing on his feet. only one thing ran through his mind - you. you who fell to your death in the clock tower, you who he failed to catch and ran out of time with, you who he promised to always be on the same path with.

“are you okay?” mark asked, not realizing that his eyes are starting to water.

“yeah, i’m okay. thanks,” mj frantically nodded, helping herself to get back onto her own two feet.

that eventful night eventually came to an end, the villains and him going back to their own universe. the one thing he forgot about is how one major event could change his whole timeline - in his case, electro not existing, causing the big battle to not occur at all. oh how shocked he was to find you sitting on a bench at the park the next day, reading through your novel.

“mark, where have you been? i’ve been waiting here for half an hour,” you exclaimed, putting your novel aside and approaching him.

“y/n? what- what are you doing here? you’re alive?” mark rubbed the back of his neck, his mind still comprehending the sight of you standing in front of him - healthy and well. he even pinched his cheeks slightly, in case all of this is just a dream.

“yeah, of course i’m alive, what is up with you today?” you raised your eyebrow. what is going on? he’s being extra weird.

“god, i’ve missed you so much,” he wasted no time in pulling you into his embrace, inhaling the scent of you, the scent that he’s been missing the most. his mind kept on replaying every second of your death since the incident, he couldn’t seem to forgive himself. it’s not like he was at fault but he can’t help but think so.

“wow, okay, i miss you too,” you laughed a little, enjoying the sudden affection he’s giving you.

mark took this as a reminder of how special you are to him, his other half, he supposed. nevertheless, he’d never want to feel how he felt during the first few months of your passing ever again.

“come on, we’re gonna be late to the movies!” you pulled his wrist, leading him to your date today.

A/N | this is what i imagined will happen after the events of nwh since the change of major events will change your timeline (the butterfly effect) and i like to think that tasm’s peter and gwen are living somewhere, happily married !! also, the mark lee in italics is equivalent to tom holland’s spider-man and the normal text one is andrew’s, if that makes sense. lmk your feedbacks on this, xoxo

NETWORKS | @koffeenet @ficscafe @nct-frathouse @kwritersworld @prism-nw @neoturtles @ankathi-a @kdiarynet @ultkpopnetwork

[outofangband]

@foxindarkness asked

Hey! I think you haven't done Nan Elmoth yet in your flora and fauna series, and I'd really really love to see your take on it, especially if you feel like making one of your gorgeous boards to go with it!

Flora, fauna, geography and environment of Arda

As always this is not a complete list! Please always feel free to ask for more details about any category (birds, fern, spring plants, etc)

Nan Elmoth or the Valley of Stars was a deep forest East of Doriath and on the Eastern banks of the river Celon, a tributary to Aros which was itself a tributary to Sirion.

We can only speculate about the species of trees that grew here with the primary descriptor being that they block the sun. 

The climate and habitat is a deep, mixed deciduous forest with high moisture, higher than most of Doriath.

Mountain ash or Rowan, common beech and oak, and some towering pine trees are the most common species. Importantly, Yew trees grow throughout Nan Emloth and produce patches of near darkness where little else can grow.

Field and wych elms grow by the banks of Celon, needing the moist, sandy soil.

Bitter or woody nightshade grows throughout the vale as does arum, sweet violet, Great sallow, soft rush, royal ferns and bracken, common fragile fern, baneberry, black touch me not

Green shield moss, silky forklet moss, thyme moss and grey-cushioned grimmia are examples of species of mosses that grow on land in the valley.

Destroying angel mushrooms grow in the birch groves and funeral bell, panther’s cap, false death cap, bay bolete, lichens like Cladonia bellidiflora, Lobaria virens and beard lichens grow throughout on and around both decaying and healthy trees.

There was apparently a small lake or pool called Gladuial. This was likely a spring fed by ground water or a vestigial pool that remained fed by precipitation throughout the year

Common water moss clings to rocks in the river Celon, thriving in the shade the trees of Nan Emloth provide. Water starwort also grows here. 

There are a number of vernal pools dotted throughout the forest Small vernal pools like these are always wonderfully diverse mini ecosystems. 

Curled pondweed, amphibious bistort, bur-reed, frogbit, and least duckweed among other plants grow in these.

In the spring and summer, the chorus of frogs alights the forest at night and throughout much of the day

Pool frogs and agile frogs are the most common species though common tree frogs.

Smooth newts, palmate newts, and fire salamanders can also be found.

Crested newts can be found in small pools in less shaded areas closer to the riverbank

The forest is a quiet one and songbirds are rare and unnaturally taciturn during all but a few hours each day

Common nightjar, common nightingale, and red necked nightjar

Thrushes love the berries of yew trees which are poisonous to most others. Common blackbirds, redwings, mistle thrush.

Butterflies flit in open groves, feeding on the elm, birch and herbaceous plants of the vale. These include autumnal moth, wood white, and mourning cloak among others

Mollusks can be found in both the freshwater and terrestrial habitats of the forest. Point snails, Platyla gracilis, dusky arion slug, pond snails (Galba truncatula), and marsh slug among others.

Like in the Nan Tathren, large animals are rare in Nan Emloth. Those that do enter the valley are elusive

I like to think about prehistoric creatures roaming the lands around Doriath specifically Nan Emloth and the lands North of Neldoreth. I can make a post about that in more detail if there’s interest!

[the8gates]

The Bug Collector: Chapter Twelve - Butterfly

Word Count: 7.3k

WARNING(S): Assault. Implications of planned SA. Blood. 

When Kakashi is appointed as the Sixth Hokage, he reveals that Obito Uchiha did not die in the war and that he plans to offer his former a friend a chance at rehabilitation and redemption. The few people who are aware of this secret project are supportive of the effort. Expect for Reiko Miki.

After her mentor, Shikaku Nara, was killed during the war, Reiko struggled to come to terms with his death. This issue is only made worse when Obito is placed in the only other house on her street. With seemingly everyone against the idea of serving true justice, Reiko decides to take matters into her own hands and make the Uchiha pay for all of the crimes he committed.

However, there may be more grey in the black and white picture she’d painted than she originally anticipated.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - AO3 - Chapter Thirteen (END)

When Reiko entered her house for the first time in three weeks, she hovered in front of the closed front door for what felt like thirty minutes. It was quiet, dark, and most of all, empty. Spending all of her time in the Hokage Tower and the Jonin Barracks had forced her to find comfort in the multitude of people that surrounded her at all times. Even late at night, when she was curling up behind Shikaku’s desk to get a few hours of sleep, she could hear people moving around in the large building. The sound of a cart wheeling down the hallway outside the door as one of the janitors arrived early to mop. The squeaking of sandals on linoleum or the groaning of desk chairs. Occasionally, the hushed, hurried, sound of Kakashi darting past her office and towards the stairs to his office with Yamato in tow, both of them grumbling and hissing to each other about some urgent matter that she wasn’t privy to. 

It was nice. Or, at least, it made her feel less alone. 

Returning home nearly felt like returning to a site of destruction. An empty school house, sitting directly in the middle of a war-torn battlefield. An abandoned church weeks after a fire had charred the wood and collapsed the ceiling. A safe space that no longer felt safe or inviting. It was strange that she felt this way about her own home, considering most of the heartbreak had occurred in Obito’s dining room turned bedroom. 

“Maybe the loss you’re feeling isn’t in regards to Obito. Maybe it’s mourning over the loss of yourself. Or who you used to be.”

Interesting. Perhaps that was the reason that she didn’t feel comfort when she looked at the multitude of knickknacks on her bookshelf anymore. Or why the idea of sitting on her own couch felt like an intrusion. This house belonged to someone else. The Reiko from several weeks ago had found refuge behind these walls, but the Reiko from the present wasn’t at ease here. Just down the road from the site of calamity and hiding in a den full of objects that had belonged to another person. She frowned, but took a step further into the house, glancing around to see if she could pinpoint what felt out of place, but the only answer that graced her was that everything felt wrong. 

“Just gotta re-decorate. Remember how we used to change the layout of the office every once and while?”

She did recall that. Once a year, on a random date that she was never privy too, Shikaku would arrive and look around their shared office with destain. His hands firmly planted on his hips and his nose wrinkled up. He would shake his head and motion for her to stand. Telling her to get up because they needed a ‘change of scenery’. Then, they would spend the first part of their morning pushing around furniture and changing some of the walls hangings. It always did manage to make the space feel new, even if it was only temporary. She also remembered that Inoichi would appear distraught anytime he came to talk to them in the weeks after one of their ‘big moves’. He always liked things to be in a particular space… not a big fan of change. 

“You’re rambling.”

Right. Redecorating… With a sigh, Reiko set her duffle bag of dirty clothes on the living room floor, surveying the land before settling on a game-plan. First, get these clothes in the washer. Then she would tackle the kitchen. 

—————————————

“C’mon Rei. It’ll be fun. You’ve been locked in that office for literal weeks. I know it’s not really your thing and you know it’s not mine either… but I think a night out would be good.”

Kakashi said, leaning casually against his desk as he spoke to her. She’d only come up to his office to provide him with some paperwork and a couple mission reports. They’d gotten about halfway through everything she’d come to tell him before he’d taken a detour in his train of thought. Apparently, Kakashi and several of the other high ranking Jonin in the village were going out tonight. For a night of drinking, unwinding, and general ‘debauchery’. Those were Kakashi’s words, not her own.

“I don’t know, Kakashi… It might not be the greatest idea for all of the village’s high-ranking officials to be out of commission for the evening. If you’re out partying, who will be here if something urgent comes up?”

She asked, her arms crossed over her chest and one hip jutted out as she fixed him with a judging look. Kakashi waved his hand dismissively, standing up and away from the desk just so he could walk around and sit back down in his chair. 

“Iruka is going to keep an eye on things for the night. Unless something truly horrifying happens, it will be fine. We can’t just deny ourselves of life’s pleasures because we’re afraid something bad MIGHT happen, Reiko. Gotta seize the day.”

He returned, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his desk top, his hands coming up to form a little cradle for his chin. She scoffed in turn, rolling her eyes but unable to fight the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“I don’t know what self help book you pulled that from, but you’re skipping over a pretty significant problem. I don’t go to parties, Kakashi. And, all of those Jonin are my subordinates. I don’t think everyone would have such a fun time if their boss was lingering around them all night.”

Reiko countered, but Kakashi was already prepared with his counter argument. 

“I know you don’t go to parties. I don’t either. But I am serious when I say I think it would be good for both of us. Just come out, have a few drinks, and if you’re still miserable you can always go home. It might even look good for you to do something like that with the Jonin. Makes you more approachable. Plus, other people will be there too. Yamato, Kurenai, Anko, Gai-“

Kakashi listed off, bopping his head back and forth with every name. At the last one, Reiko wrinkled her nose and cringed a bit. Gai… he was a loud presence. One she was never equipped to handle. 

“Don’t make that face. Just… just come out tonight. I promise it’ll be a good time.”

He finished, watching her reaction for a moment more. However, when she didn’t budge and the sour look on her face remained fixed in place, Kakashi sighed and dropped his eyes back to the scroll in front of him, prepared to go back to work as usual. Since their little run in the other night, Reiko had all but given up maintaining the professional boundary between them. Kakashi was her friend, and she realized that she’d been treating him unfairly in recent weeks. She couldn’t really still be angry at him for his decision regarding Obito’s release. That would just be hypocritical. But a party? With some of the Jonin and his friends from the Academy? It really didn’t sound like her cup of tea. 

“And what is? Going home and curling up on the couch so you can watch hours of trash television? Alone? In the dark?”

Actually, that did sound kind of nic-

“Oh, come on, Reiko. Kakashi’s right on this one. It would be a good rapport builder. And if you never work on your social skills, then you can’t be upset if they’re rusty. Have a few drinks, relax. It would be good for you.”

Ugh. Reiko sighed, pulling her gaze up from where it had fallen to her shoes. Kakashi was still looking down at the scroll, scribbling his signature against the paper every so often, but she could see he was still peaking up at her hopefully. She brought her hands up and smacked them down against her thighs as she caved. 

“Fine. Fine, I’ll go.”

She said, watching as the man across from her jerked his head up. It was insane how his expressions could still read so clearly despite the mask that was permanently fixed to his face. Kakashi’s eyes shut and curved, a clear smile hidden by the black fabric. 

“Good! How about this… Yamato and I will even pick you up from your house tonight. That way you don’t have to show up alone.”

Kakashi offered, and she scoffed at his obvious intentions. 

“Yeah, and so I can’t back out at the last second, right?”

“Ah… that would just be an added benefit.”

Reiko let out a humorless chuckle through her nose before eventually nodding, raising her hands in surrender. 

“Alright. Deal. I will see you both tonight then.”

She finished, turning on her heel to leave his office before he could rope her into something else. 

—————————————

Miserable. Absolutely miserable. That was the only way Reiko could describe her current situation. The music was too loud, the drinks were too strong, and the overlapping chatter in the bar was maddening.  So far, the best part of the night had been the walk from her house to the venue with Kakashi and Yamato. They didn’t force conversation, and when they did speak, it was mostly to each other. She’d enjoyed listening to them bicker, much more content with being a mildly amused observer than an active participant. But everything had gone to hell in a hand-basket as soon as they’d arrived. 

Kakashi had failed to tell her that they would be arriving ‘fashionably late’, which meant that every eye in the room was on them as soon as they walked in the door. The peaceful, low-maintenance, calm was ruined in an instant by people who had began drinking well over an hour beforehand. All of Kakashi and Yamato’s friends had swarmed them the moment they were in eyesight, shouting and cheering as the Hokage made his first appearance at a Shinobi function since his promotion. In the blink of an eye, the only people she was truly comfortable around were whisked away, leaving her standing stupefied in the entry way. 

At first, she’d tried to brush it off. It wasn’t an intentional slight and there was no one to blame but herself. Reiko had never really cared to make friends, so it shouldn’t have surprised her when no one went out of their way to approach her or engage her in conversation. However, she had gotten her hopes up a bit in the hours leading up to the party. Kakashi had framed this outing as an opportunity to unwind and have fun, and she’d allowed herself to fantasize as she got ready. Feeling a little giddy at the idea of laughing with friends until her stomach ached. Or having some drinks and gaining the confidence to dance with a stranger. In fact, she’d gotten so swept up in her optimism that she’d almost buzzed with excitement while getting ready. Putting actual effort into her makeup and hair and going out of her way to dress up in her best outfit. The dress she was currently wearing was one she hadn’t put on since a cocktail party she’d attend with Shikaku when she was around nineteen years old. The black fabric fit the contours of her body beautifully and it was just short enough to put her lean legs on display without coming across as trashy. When she’d slipped into the garment, she’d even stared at her own reflection for a while. Admiring her shape and the way the long sleeves of the dress made her arms appear spindly and elegant.

All of this effort and excitement, just to sit at the bar by herself the entire evening. Reiko sighed, taking another sip from her drink and wrinkling her nose at the strong flavor. Being left alone had been fine for the first thirty minutes or so. It gave her a chance to acclimate. But as the time drug on and minutes turned to hours, she lost what little confidence she’d drudged up in preparation for the party. That disappointment twisted into sadness, but the liquor was steadily whipping that up into irritation and anger. Every passing moment reminded her that she did not belong here. And every time she was reminded of that, she felt embarrassment gnaw at her bones. She would tug at the short hem of her dress and wiggle uncomfortably on her stool, just to reach for the never empty glass in front of her and attempt to drown the feelings with numbness. 

In a room full of people, she was the loneliest she’d ever been. If Shikaku were here, she could have easily made the rounds in his shadow. Following closely behind him as he spoke to everyone like an old friend. She could chuckle at his jokes. Give him a nod in the affirmative when he asked if she was having a good time. Minimize her presence because his commanded so much attention… Without him here as a shield or a grease for the wheels, she just filtered between feeling like everyone was staring at her and being upset when she realized that, in fact, no one was. 

At one point, she even began fantasizing about Obito. If he were here instead, he would make sure she never felt alone. Even if it meant he never got to leave the bar stool next to hers. He would stay by her side dutifully, taking it upon himself to let her know that she was the only person he was looking at. That she looked beautiful in her dress. He would make her laugh. Press a sweet kiss or two on her glossy lips and not care to wipe the excess from his mouth. Obito would fix her with that dopey smile, and when she asked what he was looking at, he would blush and stutter. 

At the thought, her jar clenched and a knot formed in her throat. The sound of Gai laughing entirely too loud from across the room pulled her from her extended fantasy jarringly and she was reminded of reality. Her eyes re-focused, but she quickly turned them back to the glass in front of her, snatching it from the bar top only to swallow the remaining liquor in a single swallow. 

“Reiko?”

A voice asked from over her shoulder, and she would never admit it, but her heart skipped a beat. Torn between praying that whoever it was would go away and being excited by the prospect of someone taking notice of her. How could she crave interaction, yet be so resentful of it at the same time? Still, she turned in her seat to see who had finally approached her, being met with the deep crimson eyes of Kurenai Yuhi. 

“Oh. Hi, Kurenai.”

Reiko responded, smiling a bit as the other woman rounded to sit down on the stool next to hers. 

“I didn’t think I would see you here… when did you come in?”

Kurenai asked, polite and unassuming, though Reiko couldn’t help but feel cut by the words.

“I came with Kakashi and Yamato. A couple hours ago.”

Reiko answered, the promising conversation being cut short by an awkward silence as Kurenai realized the implications of her response. She’d arrived hours ago, and Kurenai had only just taken notice of her. When the bartender wandered their way, Reiko raised her hand and gestured to her glass, welcoming another bitter drink at this point. 

“Oh… Well, are you enjoying yourself?”

Kurenai questioned, attempting to side step the tension and even if Reiko was miserable, she couldn’t justify being dismissive or rude to Kurenai in this moment. The other woman was always friendly and well intentioned. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I am.”

Reiko lied, forcing a soft smile as the bartender refilled her cup with golden liquor. Kurenai seemed pleased with the answer, nodding and gesturing for the man behind the counter to provide her with another bottle of beer. He was quicker with her order, dropping a brown bottle on the wooden table top before disappearing to assist someone else. 

“That’s good. You look nice.”

Kurenai complimented, flashing Reiko a genuine smile as she collected her drink. She muttered a soft ‘thank you’ in return before the dark haired woman was excusing herself to return to her post and ‘babysit’ Gai. Reiko watched her dark hair swish through the crowd, cutting her way across the room and disappearing from her line of sight, before turning her head back to the glass in front of her. A sigh escaped her and she made a sudden decision. If she wasn’t going to receive social fulfillment tonight, at least she could get plastered before returning home empty handed and disappointed. The last bit of fight left in her body caused her hand to wrap around the glass with purpose and she drained the drink in three powerful swallows, only to alert the bartender as soon as the cup was empty. 

—————————————

“What?”

Obito hissed, his eyes narrowing as he processed what Kakashi had just said. They were standing in the middle of his living room, the sound of static on the TV undercutting the entire conversation, but Obito was sure he’d heard the Sixth Hokage clearly. 

“I convinced Rei to go out to the bar tonight. I just thought you would like to know. She’s going to be out in public. Probably all dressed up with some drinks in her system…”

Kakashi repeated, waggling his eyebrows in a manner that only served to infuriate Obito further. He knew exactly what his friend was hinting at. Reiko was going to be at a party this evening and it would be what Kakashi considered the prime opportunity for Obito to approach her. 

“Oh for- would you please stop trying to meddle in my life?”

Obito groaned, turning away from Kakashi to prevent any harsh words from leaking out. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend how fucked up this was. And he definitely couldn’t explain all of the nuances to Kakashi. 

“C’mon, Obito. You’ve been moping around here for a month! I’m just trying to help.”

Kakashi defended before Obito could fully talk himself down off the ledge. He spun on his heel to face the other man, able to feel the fury in his own eyes as he reeled forward. 

“Help, how, Kakashi? What about you coming here and telling me that is meant to help me? This isn’t some rom-com where I put on my best suit and show up at this party to whisk Reiko off her fucking feet! You have no clue about how or why our relationship ended, but here you are, trying to play match maker and sticking your hands into a pot that doesn’t belong to you! It’s not that easy. Even if I wish it was. And on top of all of that, it’s not like my situation is public knowledge! Half of the village doesn’t even know that I’m alive. So, please, tell me how this scheme of yours is supposed to help me.”

Obito shouted, finally blowing up after weeks of keeping his mouth shut. He’d given Kakashi the bare minimum information surrounding his falling out with Rei, because despite everything, he didn’t want to implicate her in any crimes. In addition, he’d found it difficult to speak about something he considered to be a major personal failure. However, Kakashi had taken his tight lipped silence as an invitation to attempt to intervene in his personal affairs. Without Obito’s input or concern or feelings being considered in the slightest. And he had the nerve to try and present in a way that indicated he was so pleased with himself. 

“Obito… Really, I was just trying to help. I didn’t… Maybe I didn’t go about it in the best way. But I just know how happy you were when Rei started coming around and I thought that, maybe, if you guys could work out your differences then that would be a step towards normalcy for you. You think I don’t know that you’re struggling to adjust? All of this is incredibly difficult to cope with but I know that it could be easier if you had someone to help you through it… But I realize that I don’t know all of the details, so I apologize if I stepped on any toes.”

Kakashi replied, the red fading from Obito’s vision just in time to see his friend’s dejected face. The regret in his dark eyes and the embarrassment in his stiff shoulders. Oh, great. Now he’d gone and upset the sitting Hokage. He sighed, bringing his thumb and forefinger up to rub the bridge of his nose. 

“Listen, Kakashi… I’m sorry I blew up on you. But you have to understand that what happened between Reiko and I… It’s private. And I don’t know if it’s something we could ever really reconcile. I understand where you’re coming from, but it’s just not realistic.”

“Why not?”

Kakashi immediately asked, throwing Obito off a bit. His eyes grew wide as he tried to consider the question. Why not? Well, for starters, she’d tried to kill him. Though, if he was being honest, he’d made peace with that. He was on the cusp of truly forgiving her, but he believed he still needed an explanation. One he would never get because it would be impossible to bridge the gap between them. 

Why? 

Huh? Because… Well, because Reiko didn’t want to see him. Obviously that was the issue. Even if he could gather the courage to approach her and demand that they talk it out, she would just slam the door in his face. 

Are you sure about that? 

In all fairness, she had cried and begged him to let her explain herself the night he’d caught her. She’d pleaded with him to hear her out and he’d shunned her. So, maybe, the real problem was Obito. If she was willing to try and talk things over then, why would she turn him away now? 

“I… Honestly? I’m worried she won’t want to talk about it.”

Obito replied as the realization dawned on him. The ball had been in his court from the moment he’d kicked her out. And after all of the tumultuous emotion had passed, he’d been looking for excuses not to see her. For one, because he was afraid of rejection being piled on top of everything else he’d been struggling with in recent weeks. The second reason… maybe he felt that this seemingly never ending turmoil was his punishment for what he’d done to her. He’d killed someone close to her without ever even knowing her name. And now that he was in love with her, it felt like the ultimate betrayal. How many more people had he hurt or killed without considering their lives? Their families and friends? If he had met Reiko before everything, would that have changed anything for him?

“Obito? Did I lose you?”

Kakashi asked, snapping fingers in his face and pulling him from his existential crisis. Obito blinked twice, and Kakashi came back into focus, his silver eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“Sorry, I was thinking… just… what did you say?”

Obito questioned, already deciding on what he had to do before Kakashi even spat out his next words. 

“I really think you should talk to her. Even if it’s not at the bar tonight… But if you do decide to, then we will work out everything that comes afterward. You being in public and alive… We’ll take care of it. You can’t keep living like this. In the shadows. Even your house is set up like some cave. It’s time you get some closure and rejoin the world.”

Kakashi finished, reaching out a hand and grabbing Obito’s shoulder in a sign of affection. Encouragement. He was right. 

As Obito stood in the mouth of alley way across from the bar, he silently cursed Kakashi for placing this idea in his head in the first place. Following a woman who hated him enough to attempt to kill him to a party had to be one of the most shameful moments of his life, simply because he was mortified by his lack of self control. He hadn’t planned on attempting this tonight. Despite Kakashi’s encouragement and Obito’s realization that he had to speak with Rei, he had convinced himself that it would be best to meet her in a different setting. Trying to have the conversation that they needed to have in a busy, bustling, bar would only result in more confusion. 

Then, he’d just happened to be refilling the cat’s food bowl on his front porch when he saw Kakashi and Yamato walk back down the road. He knew that Kakashi had said he was going to be back later in the evening to pick Rei up, but Obito darted back inside before his friend could make any more comments or push the envelope on his agenda any further. Instead, Obito peered out of the hole in his newspaper covered windows again. He’d watched as Kakashi knocked on Reiko’s front door, waiting on bated breath to see her face again. When she’d opened the door, he’d felt the oxygen leave his lungs in record time. 

Reiko Miki was the purest image of beauty he’d ever seen. Her brown hair was twisted up into a bun on the back of her head that caused the ends of her straight hair to fray in several directions. Like a spiky halo. The second thing he noticed was her dress. A short, black, garment that clung to her bird-boned body in a way that made him ache. When she’d descended the porch, he’d watched her elegant face screw up in concentration, clearly not used to the feeling of walking in high heels. But she managed to complete the task with grace, a prideful smirk tugging at the corners of darkly painted lips. He could see the peaks of her hipbones through the dark fabric as the group walked past his house, Reiko quickly falling back to allow Yamato and Kakashi to walk side by side. She clutched a small purse in front of her with both hands, glancing down at it almost bashfully as one of them paid her a compliment. After they’d turned the corner at the end of their road and he could no longer see them, Obito had realized that he hadn’t taken a single breath since she’d opened that front door. 

He’d been hiding in the shadows of this alley for several hours now, but the time didn’t seem to matter. Not when his job this evening was playing the role of Reiko’s protector. Seeing her all dressed up and ready for a night of drinking hadn’t sat right with him after several minutes had passed without her in his line of sight. Looking as gorgeous as she did, if she had too many drinks, someone could hurt her. Or follow her home. She wasn’t a Shinobi and he didn’t know the extent to which she could protect herself, and he’d never forgive himself if something like that happened to her. Whether they were on speaking terms or not. So, he watched and waited patiently. 

He couldn’t see the interior of the bar from this position with all of the windows being made of frosted glass, but it didn’t matter. His eyes watched the front door like a hawk. People rotated in and out, all varying degrees of inebriated, but none of them took notice of him. He’d gotten too good at hiding in the shadows. Even the Anbu put in place to keep an eye on him were unaware of his absence. Briefly, he had realized that this was his first time leaving his and Reiko’s little valley since he’d returned from the war, but he tried not to think about it too deeply. If he did, his skin would start to crawl. His scars would itch and he would feel eyes on his back. Breathing on his neck. The muffled sounds of people laughing and music playing loudly from inside the establishment across the street set his nerves on fire. It had been a long time since he’d been in public like this. Vulnerable and bare faced. Again, though, all of it was worth it if he could just make sure that Reiko made it home safe. 

The door creaked open again and Obito prepared himself to be disappointed, but to his surprise, the person stumbling out of the bar was the exact one he’d come here for. Reiko struggled momentarily to put one foot in front of the other, but she seemed to get the hang of it once she let the heavy bar door swing shut behind her. She took a deep breath, glancing up and down the dark road between them before nodding to herself a bit. A little self assurance that she was good. She could walk home in her condition. He’d seen her briefly earlier in that night, but her now her eyelids were heavier. Her stance wider as she tried to balance herself. And the bottom hem of her dress was stretched out and wrinkled in several places, indicating that she’d spent the entire night tugging it down. 

That thought was the one to snap him out of his stunned daze. Why had she felt the need to cover herself so desperately? Had someone already pressured her? Hurt her? His heart was beating a furious symphony in his chest, and he felt the urge to approach her immediately. To wrap his arm around her shoulders and guide her home. Ask her if she was okay. If she missed him as much as he missed her. But then, she glanced in his direction and he froze solid, staring back at her as his heart lurched up into his throat, sealing out the oxygen around him. What startled him the most was the look in her dark eyes. Framed by even darker make up, she looked exhausted. And sad. Pleading. Almost on the verge of tears with her inner eyebrows hooked upwards. This was it. She’d seen him so easily and his cover was blown. He wouldn’t have the option to just follow her home and make sure she got in safe. She was going to make him do this right here, right n-

Reiko sighed, shaking her head like she was trying to dispel a silly thought as she turned to look back down the road and away from him. After a second of disbelief on Obito’s part, Reiko took a few shambling steps forward, starting her trek home. Obito let out a sigh of relief and waited a few beats before slipping from the alley to follow several yards behind her. He stayed close to the shops and alleys, ready to turn around or duck into one if she decided to glance over her shoulder again. However, as he stalked behind her, he realized that she was too inebriated to notice much about her surroundings. Occasionally, she would stumble over a small pebble or catch her heel in a tiny hole, but she always managed to recover from the slip up. He told himself that he wouldn’t intervene unless something horrible were to happen. So, even if she fell face first in the dirt, he would have to allow her to pick herself up. 

After a while of walking, Reiko took a sharp right turn down an alley and Obito hadn’t been expecting it. He supposed that it technically was a short cut to her home, but he’d just assumed that she would favor the partially lit roads over a dark alley in her condition. Apparently all of that cunning intelligence was forgotten once she’d had enough liquor. He sighed, having to break into a slight jog to make up the distance before she disappeared into another connected alley and he lost track of her. When Obito rounded the corner, all he could see for a moment was darkness. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the lack of streetlight, but when they did, his blood ran cold. 

—————————————

God, she’d drank entirely too much. Every step down this road she’d walked a million times before was taking considerable brain power. All she could really think about was putting one foot in front of the other. That and the general direction she needed to go in order to get home. If she thought about how heavy her head felt or how short her dress was one more time, she was going to have to make a pit stop and empty her stomach in some poor shop owners potted plant. So, instead, she trudged forward with her eyes mostly closed, moving on pure instinct and muscle memory, only widening her eyes occasionally to make sure she was still on track. 

It felt like she’d been walking for an hour at this point, but she hadn’t even made it past this block yet. Ugh. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep this feeling off. Miserable. Drunk. Sick. Missing a man she couldn’t have. Maybe, instead, she’d stumble up onto Obito’s porch… beat on his door until he let her in and she could safely pass out in his strong arms. She peeled her eyes open to survey her path again and noticed the alley coming up on her left. That was a shortcut through the village. This alley would lead to series of others that would cut her walking time in half. If it was the alley she was thinking of. And if she could navigate the labyrinth beyond. It was worth a shot. If she kept one hand on the right wall then she could find her way out no problem. Or was it the left wall? Where had she heard that before? Shikaku was no help. He’d been surprisingly silent since she’d passed the point of tipsy and fallen over the cliff into hammered territory. 

Reiko sighed, reminding herself to breathe as she rounded the corner into the alley. It was darker here than the streets, but she could see light coming from windows above her. Bedrooms and apartments above the shops. If she focused hard enough, she could use those to guide her. As she neared the end of this corridor and had the choice between a right or left turn, Reiko chose the left. Then a little further down, she went with right. And another left. Neck deep in the maze, she continued to walk until the tip of her heel caught on a trash bag sitting behind someones shop. Everything happened too fast for her to comprehend and, before she’d even realized that she was falling, something soft, yet sturdy, caught her. 

A hiccuping gasp left her at the sudden change in angle. Stuck somewhere between upright and leaning heavily against something. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, gently rising her to her feet, and she realized that someone had caught her. 

“Hey, boss… What are you doing out so late?”

A voice asked, one that scratched an itch in her brain but not one she totally recognized. Reiko’s face scrunched up as she tried to place it. Her head was still so heavy, but she managed to tilt it back to try and get a glimpse of the man holding her. Instead, she was met with a large hand cupping over her eyes. 

“Ah-ah. No peaking. Probably wouldn’t remember me anyway… Since we’re so beneath you.”

The voice said, his voice lowering an octave. Reiko was still confused, and she struggled in his tightening grip. But the arm around her shoulders was too strong. The hand over her eyes holding her head at an awkward angle. The words failed her, but panic was beginning to rise in her chest. When he pushed forward, she stumbled backwards until she could feel the scratching of wood siding against the back of her calves. Was he pining her to a wall?

“But I remember you. Crystal clear. Have to. You’re the boss, aintcha? Mm… But only when you feel like it. Only when you get to tear someone down, isn’t that right?”

He continued, but she was having a hard time keeping up. Was he a Jonin? One of her subordinates? Someone she’d ‘torn down’? All of these questions flooded her liquor soaked brain, the grip he had her in limiting her senses so that all she could focus on was his words. That was until the arm wrapped behind her shoulders moved, his other hand wrapping around her neck and forcing the back of her head to smack the wall he’d corralled her against. The pain didn’t register in her drunkenness, but Reiko gasped against the sweaty hand on her mouth anyway. Her body lurching forward as she finally realized what was happening. She struggled against her attacker, trying to bring a leg up and kick him in the stomach. But he was quicker and, by all accounts, sober. So, he pressed closer and shoved his thigh between her legs, effectively ceasing her movement and stopping any attempts to retaliate. 

“You’re not going anywhere. Understand? Not until I’m done with you. Ya know, when you marched into the barracks a few weeks ago, all high and mighty, I thought that you were better suited to be a house wife than the fucking Jonin Commander. Then you tore into us for fighting over a woman. Said we were children and horrible representatives of the Leaf, if I recall correctly.”

The man said, forcing her to dig through her memory for an event from several weeks ago. Fighting over a woman… the barracks. He was referring to her breaking up that fight. The one that Kakashi had sent for her on her day off to handle. Right before she’d made the first move on Obito. This was one of the Jonin she’d berated and placed on punishment. He pressed closer to her, grinding his leg upwards and dipping his head down to speak directly in her ear. Reiko tried to push him off, but she was weak and her arms felt like jello after too many drinks. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you said. You also said that we weren’t fit to be Shinobi. And see, silly me who dedicated my entire life to this shit… I took that personally. By the time you left, I didn’t think you were some housewife anymore. But I did think that you needed to be reminded of your position.”

He continued, hissing the words in her ear as the hand around her throat tightened. That last sentence sent a jolt of pure horror through Reiko and she did the only thing she could think to do. She tried to scream for help, but against the huge palm on her face, the sound was nothing more than a muffled plea. The attempt also earned her head another smack against the wall behind her. 

“Shut the fuck up! Who the fuck are you to tell us that we aren’t fit to be Shinobi, huh? Stupid, useless, bitch who only got her job because she was blowing the guy who died in office. If you were even the tiniest bit qualified, you wouldn’t be so fucking sad and weak right now. So, that must mean you’re only good for one thing. And it sure as hell ain't being a house wife. Or the Jonin Commander. Nah. Women like you with your sour fucking attitudes and your ‘holier than thou’ schtick are worthless except for what you’ve got between your le-“

The man continued to spew filth at her. Seething with a hatred that she could feel in the harsh breathing he was doing against her neck. About halfway through his rant, he’d taken the hand off of her eyes just to move the one on her mouth to cover her entire face, grabbing her head and pushing it back against the wall as his now free hand wiggled down between them. Her heart was pounding, and she tried again to fight him off, but he just kept talking. His hand kept moving. Just as she was about to give up, a sickening crack sounded out next to her ear. A warm liquid splattered her cheek and, all at once, the body pressed against her went limp. The hand on her face slithered down and the pressure between her thighs disappeared. 

Her eyes ripped open, finally able to see her attacker as he collapsed on the ground in front of her. The adrenaline pumping through her veins made her eyes vibrate in her skull, but she could still make out his appearance in the dark. In fact, it felt like her vision was better with all of the fight or flight chemicals flooding her brain. It was one of the Jonin she’d put on cleaning duty several weeks ago. Months ago at this point. The one that had snapped at her and almost been escorted out by Yamato. As soon as she made the connection, she noticed something else. A slowly expanding, dark, pool under the Jonin’s head. It was dark, but that sight combined with the crack she’d heard earlier… it had to be blood. That’s when she realized that someone had to have done this. Reiko jerked her eyes up from the ground. 

Standing just in front of her on the other side of this Jonin’s unconscious body was a shock of white hair. A tall man with a muscular build. He took a step forward, into the dull light coming from an apartment above them, and Reiko felt all of the adrenaline in her body leave her in an instant. Her savior dropped a heavy brick on the ground next to his feet and he reached out a hand for her to take. Obito’s stark white fingers were covered in a spray of blood and when she brought her eyes back up to his face, the concern in his gaze stunned her in place. 

“Are you okay?”

He asked, his voice and question causing her bottom lip to tremble immediately. She didn’t take his hand, but she watched as she glanced down at the body between them, snarling his nose in disgust. When he made eye contact with her again, he seemed to notice the blood on the hand he’d offered her. He lowered it, rising his clean, tan, one in its place. 

“I know it’s a lot… just trust me, okay?”

He encouraged and maybe it was the liquor. Maybe it was the attack he’d just saved her from. But Reiko nodded without any further hesitance, reaching out to interlock her hand with his. Obito gave a soft grunt of approval before assisting her in stepping around the Jonin. When she was close enough to him, he jerked her forward and wrapped his arms around her shoulders in a bruising grip. Obito buried his nose in her hair and Reiko wondered if this was a dream.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

He ordered, voice gravelly and tight despite the tenderness in his coaxing just a moment ago. He pulled back, hands gripping her shoulders so that he could look down at her face while still keeping as little space between them as possible. His pointed eyebrows were drawn down in a stern expression, pouty bottom lip pressed into a tight line against his top one. And Reiko nodded again, drawing the same gesture from Obito. After staring at her for a moment longer, he moved to instead stand by her side, gripping her hand like a life line. 

“Let’s go home.”

[my-emotional-self]

Toxic Love Chapter 3

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing.  But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings:  18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy)

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story!  I apologize in advance!

Two days later you found yourself back in the same elevator at the Avengers Tower, only this time with Bucky.  It was a surprise when you opened up your apartment door to see Bucky standing there, ready to escort you to the tower as you planned on walking there yourself. But you didn’t mind one bit.  In fact, you found Bucky Barnes to be rather charming and quite adorable with half of his hair in a little bun in the back of his head.  

The elevator doors opened on the same floor as last time.  Bucky walked in front of you as you followed closely behind him and that was when you spotted Steve.  He was dressed much more casually this time in a pair of black sweats and a gray t-shirt that looked about two sizes too small.  His arm muscles practically ripping the seams of his shirt.  It was definitely a sight to see.  

Steve was leaned over the island counter looking at some paperwork and turned when he heard the two of you enter.  This time, a small smile graced his lips.  He walked right up to you and quickly apologized.  “I’m sorry for the way I acted the other day.  I’ve been under a lot of stress and while I couldn’t be more happy to have finally met you, the timing is just not that great.  I truly am sorry and I hope you can forgive me.”

Looking up into those baby blue eyes of his, your body melts.  You hadn’t noticed the first time you saw him just how bright his eyes were. Could you forgive him?  Sure, you could only imaging how stressful of a job this must be for him and the rest of the Avengers.  

“Yeah, I forgive you Steve,” you replied with a close lipped smile.  

“Great, why don’t we head into the living room and we can talk,” he said as he held his arm out towards the living room.  

You sat on the large couch, right in the middle while both Steve and Bucky sat on the chairs on either side of the couch.  Both men had their hands clasped together with their elbows on their knees, leaning forward.  They were watching you intently, waiting for your decision.  

“Umm, alright I can start,” you began to say, giving your lips a lick as your mouth felt parched.  “After two days of thinking it over, I have decided to move in here…if that’s ok with you both.”  Why were you so nervous this time around?  Was it because Steve was actually being nicer and taking his time to talk to you rather than talk down to you?  Was it because both men were intently staring at you?  Whatever it was, you hadn’t felt quite this nervous in some time.  

“Of course it would be alright with us if you moved in.  Isn’t that right Buck?”

“Absolutely,” Bucky replied, a bright smile on his face.  

Giving both men a shaky nod, you chewed on  your lower lip nervously, knowing what was coming next and you just hoped they weren’t going to be too terrible.  And if they were, hopefully they would be willing to compromise on a few.  

Steve cleared his throat as he stood up from his chair; Bucky following his lead as they both stood in front of you.  “Should we go over the rules then?” Steve asked with authority in his tone, but you knew that was just part of him being the ‘alpha’ of this relationship.  Giving him a subtle nod, Steve began with the rules.

“Rule number one.  You are not to leave the tower by yourself.  You either have one of us go with you or at least get someone else living in the tower to go with you.  We would prefer one of us, but if we are on a mission, then that’s understandable.  We don’t want you getting hurt and we only want to protect you,” he stated.  

Ok, this wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.  While you were more of a hermit anyways, not really going out much even during the day, this rule seemed pretty easy to follow.  “I can agree to that rule,” came your reply.  

“Good, rule number two. No lying.  We want an open and honest relationship and if you lie to us, we can’t help you and it will certainly not help with trusting you. Same goes for us.  We won’t lie to you either.  Deal?”

“Deal.”  Wow, this was much easier than you thought.  

“Rule number three. No touching yourself without one of us.” And there it goes, all out the window. You could feel the embarrassment creep up on your neck and cheeks.  “I know this rule can be a little out there.  But Bucky and I want to be the ones that give you pleasure.”

You weren’t innocent, of course you got yourself off.  Hell, you had a whole drawer full of toys.  But this seemed a little excessive.  You didn’t plan on jumping into the sack with either of them for a while, not until you got to know them and bringing pleasure to yourself was one of your biggest stress relievers.  

“Ok, but what if you two are on a mission for weeks, if not months?”

Bucky and Steve gave each other a look.  It seemed as if they were speaking to each other telepathically, knowing what the other was thinking just by that one look.  

“How about this,” Bucky began to say, his shoulders relaxing.  “If we are gone on a mission that is more than two weeks, we can try phone sex perhaps.  That way one of us is still technically bringing you pleasure with at least our voice.”

Letting out a breath, you thought about it for a minute.  It’s not like you were a sex crazed maniac; you didn’t need to get off five times a day.  It would be difficult though, especially in the beginning of the relationship, but it was possible.  “Ok.  I’ll agree to that.”

“Good,” Steve stated, giving you little smile.  “Rule four. You don’t need any money or income. Bucky and I have more than enough for us to live very comfortably and we can provide for you.  We would like you to not work if you do have a job right now.”

“Nope.  Hard no,” you exclaimed.  You loved your job, it was your passion, your hobby.  When you were dating John, he made you give it up. When you told him no, well, that was the first time he hit you.  He had backhanded you across your face, leaving you bruised for weeks.  When you finally got out of that relationship and he was thrown in jail, your job was the only thing to keep you from falling over the edge.  “Look, I don’t need my job either.  It pays well and I’m good at saving.  I have plenty of money in the bank for a rainy day.  But I can’t not do my job.  It is my passion and my one true hobby.  I am begging you, please don’t make me quit,” you spoke with a trembling lip and damp eyes.  

In the blink of an eye, Steve was sitting down to your right, Bucky to your left.  They each placed a hand on your knee in comfort.  “Maybe we can compromise on this then.  What is it that you do for a living?” Bucky questioned.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and willed the tears away.  “I’m a gamer.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t really know what that means,” Steve said.  

“A gamer.  I go online and play games on a site called Twitch. I live stream as I play games and people watch me.”

“People watch you to play games online and you get paid to do that?” Bucky asked with confusion.  

A chuckle left your lips. “I know. It sounds silly.  But I love it.  I really do.  I work from home.  I make my own hours.  I can work ten days in a row if I want and I can take a month off if I want.”

“So how often do you work?” came Steve’s question.  

You shrugged your shoulders. “It depends.  Lately I’ve been working about four to five nights a week on average.  But if we compromise, I can easily go down to two nights a week and I’d still be ok with that.”

There it was again, Steve and Bucky looking at each other.  You swore they were talking with their minds, but then again, they have known each other for what, over 100 years now?

“Alright.  Two nights a week we will start out with.”  You squealed in excitement as your arms wrapped around Steve’s neck in a tight hug before doing the same to Bucky.  

“Thank you for compromising with me,” you sputtered in excitement.  “Are there any other rules?”

“Just one more for the time being.  If we need to come up with more rules along the way we will.  But for the last rule, we want you to be healthy.  That means eating three meals a day and getting a good night’s rest.  We don’t want you up at all hours of the night and sleeping during the day.  We try to eat as many meals as possible together. Mainly breakfast and lunch during the weekends and dinner every night if possible.”

Well, that one will be really difficult for you to deal with.  You never ate breakfast.  Hell, you barely ate lunch.  You really only ate on average one meal a day and then snacks here and there.  “I can definitely try with the eating three meals a day.  I normally only eat one meal a day and then have snacks but I promise to try.  But when I do my job, it is done at night and sometimes I am up a little later than normal.”

Steve nodded and you watched as his jaw clenched.  “Just try to get to bed at a reasonable hour on those few nights a week that you work alright?”

There was this deep feeling inside of you that made you not want to upset your soulmate so you quickly nodded your head in agreement.  

“I do have one question,” you asked quietly.

“Go ahead,” Steve responded, eyes on you.

“What if I do break a rule? What happens then?”

Steve cocked his head to the side, thinking about it.  “Well, I guess it depends on what rule you break and how severely you break it.  It could be something as simple as not being able to go to your hobby room on the communal floor, or having you spend time in your room alone.  This is new territory for us to so we might have to make the punishments up as we go.”

“Ok, that sounds doable,” you agreed.  

Bucky touched the small of your back and you turned to face him.  “Is there anything in particular on your end you wanted to say?  Any kind of rules for us  you wanted to discuss?”  

You thought about it for a minute, but only one came to mind.  “Yeah,” you began to speak quietly as you looked down at your hands in your lap. “You can call me doll and sweetheart and any other terms of endearment like that.  But please don’t call me ‘babe’.”  Memories of John growling out that word to you as he punched and kicked you until your ribs broke came flooding back to you.  You never wanted to be called that word again.  

“I think we can manage that,” Bucky agreed.

“That won’t be a problem on our end at all,” Steve quipped.  “Now how about we order some pizza and we can get to know you a little better?”

Just then, your stomach grumbled at the thought of pizza.  You were starving.  “Pizza sounds amazing right now.”

[rogerslovesstark]

No More Love

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader, Sharon x fem!reader [platonic, for now ;)]

Word Count: 2,020

WARNING: ANGST, mean Steve, Sharon being a sweetheart because she is portrayed negatively, I've done it but girls support girls!

“Steve, where are you going?” You ask quietly, scared of his response because it seemed that he was always on the verge of exploding when you spoke to him. You felt like you were walking around eggshells whenever you were around him. 

Ever since he came back from Bolivia, he was constantly angry when he was around you. You noticed something was off when the night he came back, you tried to give him a massage and he jerked himself away from you. That was two months ago, and he was away for almost three months.

You wrote it off as him being tired and annoyed from the almost failed mission. However, as days continued, Steve kept keeping a cold shoulder to you. Avoiding you in the tower, skipping on date nights saying that he had mission reports to file, sleeping in the tower instead of coming home.

It was almost like he didn’t love you anymore.

Steve saw you approaching him in the tower, he also noticed that there was no way of avoiding you without causing a scene. So he just let you come to him, the new trainees in awe of the two superheroes who were supposedly madly in love with one another. 

You beamed at your boyfriend, he had just come back from Bolivia a few days ago and you hadn’t had the chance to speak with him properly, Steve was constantly swarmed in paperwork because of the operation. 

You knew that he was stressed when he didn’t want to have sex after his mission, but you also didn’t want to force it on him. It was odd that you wouldn’t want to have sex after two months away from your girlfriend, only having jerked off while on the trip. You had doubts that Steve remained loyal to you during the mission but you hid them deep in yourself because you didn’t want to doubt the loyalty of Steve.

Steve faked a smile when he saw you walk over to him, just to keep appearances with everyone around them. He hugged you loosely and quickly pulled away, not making many conversations with you and then excusing himself claiming he needed to speak with Fury about something important. 

You stood in the hallway, visibly upset that your lover wouldn’t spend five minutes with you.

You were starved of basic affection from your boyfriend. You didn’t even know what you did wrong.

Steve was on his way out the door when he heard you ask him where he was going. Just hearing you ask him where he was going angered him so much. You were acting like his mother all the time, so needy and annoying. 

“Out Y/n, why? Do you need anything?” He asked trying not to blow a fuse, his temper was so short with you. 

“Can we please talk before you go?” You asked him, you needed validation and affection so badly that you were itching just to have him hold you again. 

Steve huffed and dropped his keys on the side table and walked towards you, sitting on the couch near you, just not touching you. 

“Are you angry at me Steve?” You asked him, desperate for an answer. You just wanted your boyfriend to kiss you the way he used to.

“No, Y/n.” He answered shortly, temper slowly rising, he was getting annoyed by you already and you hadn’t even said more than 20 words to him yet. 

“Are you sure? You can tell me if I did something wrong, it won’t hurt my feelings,” You said reaching to hold his hand, in need of some sort of affection. Even if it was just holding his large hand. 

“Y/n enough, stop acting like a child, okay?” He shouted, pulling his hand away quickly when he realized that you were going to touch him. “Y/n I need to tell you something, don’t interrupt me okay, I don’t love you anymore, I don’t what happens but I just don’t love you anymore,” Steve said, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders.

You sat on the couch stunned, absolutely stunned by what your boyfriend had just said. He didn’t love you anymore? What does that even mean? How do you just stop loving someone? You were processing 10 different emotions at once. The one you felt most was pain, so much pain that you couldn’t even cry because of how much it hurt.

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, you just stared at him in shock. You didn’t know what to say, you just sat on the couch, feeling like an outlier in your own home. 

Steve just stared at you, seeing you process what he had just said. He didn’t know how you would take it, but it seemed like you were taking it pretty well. He didn’t say anything else to you, he just grabbed his keys and shut the door behind him. Sam and Bucky were waiting for him at the bar, it was boys night and he was finally free from the leash of your relationship.

+++

You quickly grabbed your things from your side of the closet. You still didn’t feel the urge to cry about this relationship. Maybe because you already knew it was over subconsciously. Why cry over something that you were kind of expecting. 

You left his apartment an hour after Steve had left, with your two suitcases and a large bag filled to the brim in tow, you walked to the tower. It was a far walk, from Brooklyn to Mid-town Manhattan. You received so many strange looks because what kind of crazy person didn’t just call an Uber with all that stuff. 

It took you over an hour to reach the tower. You took the elevator up to your floor, constantly asking FRIDAY for updates of where everyone is inside the tower. Once you reached your floor, you requested FRIDAY to lock your floor to everyone until further notice, ban Steve from entering your floor, and disable people from requesting your location within the tower.

You placed all of your things inside your room, not having enough energy to put any of your things away. You walked over to your bathroom and started the shower, the heat as high as it would go.

You stood under the stream of burning water, you tried to avoid thinking of the situation. You still didn’t feel like crying, just the feeling of being numb and cold. You were probably cold because your insane ass walked from Brooklyn to Manhattan in a thin shirt and jeans. 

You turned the water off and changed into a teeshirt, crawling into your bed and requesting FRIDAY to close the curtains and not to open them until you were out of bed, whenever you awoke the next morning.

You laid in the darkness looking up at the ceiling, torturing yourself with the words Steve had said to you. Constantly replaying them inside your mind, hoping that he was lying, hoping that when you woke up the next morning that he would be laying next to you, holding you to his chest.

As you replayed the words in your head, you finally felt the tears coming on. You sobbed softly thinking of your failed relationship, thinking of what you did wrong. 

You finally fell asleep, cheeks wet from all the tears. Sleeping a dreamless sleep.

+++

Steve was drinking the mead Bucky had on hand, a welcome gift from Thor. They were in some club on the lower west side. Some blonde woman was sitting in his lap, talking about something Steve didn’t even care about. All he wanted to do was to sleep with her and kick her out. 

He didn’t care for anything at the moment, not when she had died at the cost of his stupidity. 

Janet, an inter who Fury had placed on the mission in Bolivia because he believed that she was ready to take on the mission with the supervision of Steve.

The first two weeks of the mission was filled with the sexual tension between the two. It happened after dinner had ended and Steve and Janet were buzzed, Steve had walked her back to her hotel room. She kissed Steve, and they ended up entangled in her sheets, any thoughts of you were completely forgotten by Steve. The night ended with the best sex of Steve’s night.

Once he woke up, he noticed that Janet was laying on his chest naked, and he was also naked. Steve had no regrets, he didn’t feel any remorse that he had cheated on you. So he continued the relationship with Janet, claiming that he didn’t love you anymore, that Janet made him feel something that you never made him feel. 

The night before they were meant to leave, Janet went to the local supermarket to get some wine and cheese for the two, to celebrate their relationship. Only to be shot and killed before she could even make it to the store. 

Steve was devastated that Janet had been killed, he mourned her death so painful. Steve genuinely believed that Janet was the love of his life.

Steve began getting annoyed of the blonde woman in his lap just chattering away, so he kissed her quiet, and took her back to her place, tidy and small. He would expect nothing more from a young woman working in some low-paying field, she had mentioned it but Steve was too caught up in his thoughts about Janet to even care about what she was saying.

As soon as Steve finished, he got up and left. He finally made it to his apartment, expecting you to be in the bedroom, but you weren’t here. Good, it's better that way, you were so unbelievably annoying that he could barely stand to be around you. 

He climbed into his bed, the sheets still smelled like your shampoo. He had to wash the sheets as soon as possible, whenever he found the time. 

+++

You had been in a dark place for the last 3 weeks, you had begged Fury to not place you on any mission, you explained the situation to him, with him being infuriated, almost going to the length of finding Steve and shooting him in the leg. 

You realized that you were in such a depressive state and hadn’t been taking care of yourself. In 3 weeks, you had barely eaten, showered, or spoken to anyone. 

You forced yourself to get up, shower, eat a proper meal, and go for a run. The amount of energy it took to even complete those tasks was so unbelievably exhausting that you only wanted to lay in bed all day and read.

You ended up calling Sharon, asking her to come to see you and hang out to take your mind off the hurt you were going through. You and she were friends, meeting each other during the SHIELD initiative. Sharon was always so kind to you, you could sense her attraction to your boyfriend but then again who would be. Well, ex-boyfriend.

You cried your heart out to Sharon, laying in your bed with her, while she stroked the back of your head trying to soothe you, you ended up asleep in her arms. You woke up to a clean room, and Sharon wasn’t in your bed. She was in your kitchen making something to eat you were guessing. 

“Hey N/n, you need to eat some dinner, I’m making spicy penne al vodka, it’s almost ready,” Sharon said while stirring the pot she was using. You took a seat at the counter, waiting to be served by your friend. You stared out the window, just wondering what Steve was doing right now.

“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, hello,” Sharon waved her hand in your face. She was confused as to why you kept daydreaming, he left you, you should move on because he was a piece of shit anyways.

“I’m not hungry Shar, I ate earlier, I’ll just eat later,” You said while staring out the window.

[demonictales]

P O I S O N - ZEWU JUN x READER

request: The reader and Lan xichen meet at a fancy banquet and the reader gets poisoned. At first she just doesn't feel to good but then it gets worse and Lan xichen is super worried. She almost dies but he takes care of her and saves her

TW: POISONING, NEAR DEATH, extremly ooc xichen

As most cultivators knew by now and were gathered at Koi Tower to celebrate the first full birthday of the little heir to the Lanling Jin sect, all of the town was filled with people from everywhere. It was bustling.

Your small clan had been invited as well and since your parents were busy handling your new born baby brother Zizhen you attented as the oldest child from the Baling Ouyang Clan and entered the Koi Tower a few minutes ago, just a little after you had arrived you were greeted by Jin Guangyao. You returned the gesture of bowing respectfully and thanking him for the invitation you had received as well as apologized for your parents absence due to your little brother being born.

The gap between you and your brother was about twenty three years, quite a lot but your parents had birthed you rather young, so it was no big deal. You were excited to have one more family member and a plus point was that you had a little brother by your side now.

Moving along into the hall, you spotted the familiar blue and white attire of the Gusu Lan sect. Immediately your features seemed to be even brighter as you approached Lan Xichen. "Zewu Jun. --- Pleased to meet you here. How have you been these days? "

You had met him several times before, either through lectures or other meetings and occassions where you had crossed paths. It always delighted you to meet him and be able to exchange a few words with him. " Greetings, Lady Y/N. I've been quite alright. I shall hope you had nothing to worry about either." Xichen spoke in his usual quiet and refined tone and you nodded with a smile. "Yes, I've been fine. My brother was born a couple days ago. -- It will be very lively for the next few years in Baling. " You answered him with the news of your brother coming to walk this planet. "Congratulations. He will be a happy and strong boy with an older sister like yourself by his side. --- " A rose colored blush graced your cheeks before you smiled. "Thank you, Zewu Jun. I will let him know you think this way. My parents will be joyful to hear such words of blessing for Zizhen."

Soon the dinner would commence and lots of guest were talking and enjoying the festivities including yourself during the night, cheeks adorned by the blushing heat of the wine that did give you a little to much warmth. You told yourself you'd drink no more as you felt rather dizzy from what you were given. It was so unusual since you were not a lightweight, you could hold your liquor but something about this red firewater was setting you off. Perhaps it was just stronger as you expected it to be though it did leave a bitter taste on your tongue.

Excusing yourself you went outside, you needed air and to cool down a little. Clenching your eyes together to get a better vision was one thing you did as you stood up and started walking towards the doors, however, the room did not stop spinning and you felt incredibly nauseaous when your heart started racing like crazy. Holding onto the door frame for security got you no where.

Lan Xichen had joined a few cultivators outside for a talk when he noticed your struggling figure at the entrance. He did not think much of it before you in fact threw up a massive amount of blood unbeknownst to yourself for you had blacked out the moment you fell to the ground. "Ouyang Y/N!" Zewu Jun hurried over to you, feeling your pulse. It was weak, barely tangible. Crimson colored blood ran down you lips and nose, your already dark red colored robes were sweat drenched. None other than Jin Guangyao rushed to Xichen's side wondering what happened. "She has been poisoned. If we are not quick to find the culprit and the antidote, it might bring terrible consequences."

Zewu Jun requested Meng Yao's help to send out people to find out who poisoned the young lady of Baling. What nobody knew was this seemed to be an assasination attempt on Jin Guangyao which had been failed as your wine had been switched by an unknown servant and was served to you instead of Meng Yao.

It was only a matter of time before the perpetrator either escaped or was caught. You were given into the care of the doctor of Lanling which was instructed to give updates on your health as each of the cultivators present and the apprentices of the Jin clan were sent in search of the assassin. Even Lan Xichen was involved. He knew you didn't have much time and you needed the antidote before the sun rose high in the sky to survive or it would be too late for you.

Hour after hour passed as your health and sign of life disappeared within you and the closer they got to find the culprit. He was disguised as an errand boy inside the clan of Lanling when being searched they had found someone fighting back. Everybody was doing their best to get the antidote or Jin Rulan's name would be tainted by the death of an accquired clan members death. They could possibly not let that happen.

Meanwhile you were losing strength to hold onto live, you did no longer react to the doctor calling your name, your unconsiousness dragging you deeper and deeper into the dark void of nothingness. However, your subconcious could make something out just a little, a liquid was running down your lips and every bit inside tingled by a slight burning sensation. It wasn't too strong of a pain, but it was bearable. What once felt like you had been turned to mush inside now felt like it was burning and restoring itself. What in god's name had happened? What is happening and why were you coughing all of a sudden.

Bright light blinded you when you opened your eyes, your head bumping tremendously , a stinging pain as you sat up, the song of clarity being played in the far corner of the room you were resting. As your dark orbits adjusted to the sunlight you were surprised to see Zewu Jun who sat and played the melody. You watched quietly taking a deep breath as the calming effect took over you. Eventually, you got up and quietly walked over, steps still a bit wobbly as you did so. "Zewu Jun. "

Your voice was dry and it matched your even dryer mouth. His eyes met yours as he came to a quiet and soft stop of playing the guqin. "You are finally awake. Let me pour you some tea. " He spoke in his usual quiet and calming voice. " How long have I been out? -- The celebrations were yesterday, am I right? " All you remembered was that you had maybe drank a bit to much wine, and went outside, but that was it. "Lady Y/N, you have been resting for three days. Do you not remember what happened? "

You were slightly confused because you did not quite understand what he was saying. You shook your head and took the tea he offered you with a small smile. "Thank you. --"

After a brief explanation of the events of the past five days you starred at him blankly. You had been poisoned, which had been an assasination attempt on Jin Guangyao but the maid ended up serving the poisened wine to you on accident and basically Jin Guangyao was the one who had recovered the antidote while Zewu Jun had fed it to you and played the Song of Clarity for your quick recovery. Lips were parted as you tried to speak but no words came out. How? That was the question, how did you end up getting caught up in an assasination attempt on Jin Guangyao.

"I believe I owe you very sincere thanks. " Quietly you stood up and bowed to Lan Xichen, who had stayed two days and three nights playing the clarity song for you. "The Baling Ouyang clan is deeply indepted to you, Zewu Jun. --- You have our undisputed loyalty for as long as the Ouyang Clan exists. I myself am indebted to you as well. " Lan Xichen's reputation was much more than that and you knew how humble he was but you did not bent. You were sincere in the fact that he had safed your live.

"There is no need to bow. " His hands touched your elbows and brought you up. " Instead rest well for another two days before you go home. " He insisted. You nodded and did as he spoke.

From that day on, you had sworn yourself as a sister to Zewu Jun for saving your life and he greatly accepted your offer.

[cursestothemoon]

They Forgot Everything The Minute They Were Together

Requested: yesss

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: war, death, animal death, briefly mentioned moment of intimacy (not overtly crude), children, marriage

Summary: Draco Malfoy and Y/n L/n were arranged to be married, this is their story of growing into love while a war looms over everyone’s heads.

Word Count: 3996

✧✧✧

The weather was a biting cold, the kind of cold that makes the tip of your nose numb and your eyes water. Snow was anticipated all over the grounds, the bitter cold mirroring the somber mood of the pale blonde boy inside. Draco Malfoy was sixteen, and his life already seemed to be planned out for him. It wouldn't have bothered him, not really, to be arranged to marry a girl of high society. Someone wealthy, and snobby, and incredibly cold. Someone who deserved to have the luxury of free will ripped away with a firm hand. But he was arranged to marry you, Y/n L/n. He loved you, he was sure of it, it was the only thing he was ever really sure of. You’ve been there for him for as long as he could remember. You grew together, and you were kind, and sweet, and you were everything soft and gentle while Draco was cold, and sharp, and nothing like you. He had jagged edges and loose wires, Draco was everything that you weren’t and it was in the search of your warmth to soothe his frostbite that he fell in love with the smell of your shampoo and the crinkle of your nose. And now as he stood looking over the railing of the astronomy tower, he wished he didn’t love you, not after what he's going to do.

The time neared for their arrival and the boyish innocence that remained somewhere in him was slowly dwindling with the job he was given, but he thought of you to calm his nerves. Draco was lucky, he was well aware of how rarely arranged marriages are between two people already in love. The wedding had been planned since his birth, neither you nor him old enough to understand the meaning of what your mothers whispered about. It was a vague memory, both of you aged six, when the bond became more official. Lucius Mlafoy and your father, Y/F/N, made the arrangement a promise, a vow. Narcissa was the one to bind the unbreakable vow between the two men, and a younger you placed bright purple heliotrope flowers delicately into the almost transparent blonde hair of Draco’s.

Since then the two have been inseparable, whether they liked it or not. They had started as innocent friends, a young girl and boy who often spent summers, Christmases, and birthdays together, always joined at the hip. This continued until their second year of Hogwarts, both of you entering a rebellious phase that didn’t end until the end of fourth. Draco would sneer at you and you’d send it right back to him, he hated the arrangement then, he hated that he’d have no choice, and most of all he hated that he was starting on to hate it at all. You felt similarly, he was rude, and arrogant. You didn’t like the way he treated people and you hated how when he focused on something, face relaxing into a look of wonder and gentility, you felt the incredible need to smother him with love.

It was the end of fourth year, Cedric was dead, Voldemort was back, and Draco and you found comfort in each other. For the first time in three years, you and Draco were friends again. Your relationship hadn’t developed yet, instead always teetering on the edge of friendship just waiting to be pushed over. That push came during the summer after your fifth year.

Draco and you were set to get the Dark Marks. Pledge your loyalty to a man who both of you were brainwashed to believe was meant to be a leader. You, ashamed of it now, were quiet about your disagreement with the Dark Lord's ways but Draco had told you to keep quiet, to keep it to yourself. It seemed Draco matured far faster than you during this time, every flinch and the plethora of bruises forced the snarky little boy to grow into a looming man. One whose eyes were swimming with despair and pain, and whose cries kept you awake during the nights you spent at Malfoy Manor.

“Don’t say that! Don’t you ever say that about him!” Draco bellowed

You felt yourself shake with rage at the way he acted so spineless, “You can’t tell me you agree with what he’s doing.”

He took a breath, his shoulders coming down and his face relaxing into a look of eerie stoicism, “Don’t speak of the Dark Lord like that, he is far more powerful than you and me combined. We weren’t made to be heroes, so don’t waste your energy.”

Your eyes followed Draco as he left the room, the ceremony was starting soon.

The room was dark, curtains drawn, fire extinguished, the only light coming from the dim flicker of the overhead chandelier. Two families stood in a circle, the L/ns and the Malfoys, along with others such as Bellatrix Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, and Severus Snape amongst other unrecognized faces. In the middle stood you and Draco, waiting for the arrival of the Dark Lord. It was with a spine chilling whoosh that he appeared, Nagini and Wormtail in tow.

“Ah, Draco...Y/n. My youngest.” His voice was light, the happiness seeping through each word.

Your heads were kept down, neither of you being able to meet the snake like man’s eyes just yet. The air seemed to thicken with discomfort when you felt a hand wrap around her, pushing your face into the chest of Lord Voldemort. His robes smelled of mildew and something else that you couldn’t put your finger on, and they felt just slightly damp and cold much like his skin. You tried not to gag as the smell of decaying skin assaulted your senses, eyes watering as you prayed to Merlin you’d be freed. Draco also seemed impatient for him to let go of you, he worried you were going to burst, do something to get yourself killed. He took a welcome breath of the mildew smell, relishing in the fact that you were still there, silent and obedient.

“Wormtail, the sacrifice.” The command was drawled out, lips stretching to a smile.

Wormtail drew his wand and muttered a few words, none detectable by you or Draco. He thrust his wand one final time toward the floor in front of you, making a white dove appear along with a white rabbit.

“The rabbit is yours, Y/n. Remember, you must use all three curses.” Voldemort instructed.

You stepped forward, eyes falling onto the snow white bunny. Its red eyes looked back at you, its nose twitching ignorantly.

Stupid bunny, you thought. It won’t even try to run.

It was ironic really, you'd only realize this years later.

The shake in your hand was masked impressively, your wand pointing straight at the white rabbit. You took a breath before muttering the first curse, Imperio, and the bunny moved at your will.

Next, Crucio, and the rabbit flopped and squealed in pain as you waited for your Lord to tell you it was sufficient. The rabbit started to twitch as it fell to the floor, the painful sounds of a prey animal suffering filled the room for what felt like hours until Voldemort called for it to stop.

“Next one, my girl. Go on.” He coaxed you, his tone far too excited.

With a final look at the animal still withering in pain, you found this curse was the easiest to do out of the rest as it would put the suffering bunny out of its misery.

“Avada Kedavra.” Your words were firm but nothing happened.

“As suspected, though it was quite impressive you were able to use the Cruciatus curse.” Voldemort smiled at you before he gave Nagini the ok to eat the suffering animal.

Whilst the snake took advantage of the opportunity, Voldemort continued, “Bella, if you will.”

Bellatrix hoped to your side, wand waving excitedly as she grabbed your wrist roughly.

“Good work you did there, girl. Marrying my nephew, you two’d make a strong alliance for the Dark Lord.” She cackled, pointing her wand to the inside of your left forearm.

She muttered the words for a spell you’ve never heard and the pain was almost instantaneous. White hot, searing pain that made you gasp and instinctively move your right hand to try and push Bellatrix’s wand away. She was quicker than you, her free hand shooting out to grab a chunk of your hair, pulling your head back, her face getting closer to yours making you feel her breath on your cheek.

“Feel the pain. Own it! You do it for the Dark Lord.” She smiled, her teeth yellow and cracked on display.

The mark was finished and Bellatrix let go of you roughly, a sharp cackle coming from her mouth as she pranced back to her spot. Your eyes connected to Draco’s, his holding a look of worry intermingled with horror, but he refused to let them wander down to the mark.

“Draco, my boy. You next. And I’ll be the one to gift you my mark.”

Draco remembers that night, although tinted with horror, with a smile adorned on his face. You had been quiet the entire dinner, and as everyone left you were silent in the retreat to a spare room. This was odd, seeing as Lucius always insisted that you two share a room when together ever since youth. Both of you have grown accustomed to sharing his room when you visit and him making himself comfortable in your own room when he makes the trip to yours. With a destined marriage, it seemed that your parents wanted to push you two impossibly close. This is why Draco was a bit frantic when he opened his doors to see a completely empty room. He ran through the manor, his parents already in bed, their room equipped with a silencing charm in order to keep out the bustling of house elves and visiting death eaters seeing as the manor was the meeting place for most things. So Draco wasn’t worried about his heavy footsteps waking his parents, nor his calls for you.

He found you in the back acres of the house near the little purple flowers, they were your favorite.

“They tried to take them out over winter holiday, had to fight tooth and nail for them to keep it in.” Draco said, a soft smile coming to his lips when you looked at him.

“Thanks.” Your voice was cold, calculated, and Draco hated it.

He moved to sit down next to you, his arm pulling you down with him as he put his back to the grass. Both of you looked up at the stars, wondering how they were still shining so bright when everything inside of you felt like it was dimming steadily.

Draco slowly slid his hand into yours, his cheeks blossoming in a heated tingle as you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. He focused on the sky again, his hand coming up to point at a cluster of stars.

“That’s the constellation, Leo. Has the star, Regulus.”

You recognized the name but kept quiet hoping he’d continue.

“That one- can you see it? Just there?- is Cassiopeia. Then there’s Cepheus, her husband an-”

“I hope we are to become stars when we die.” The words slipped past your lips almost unknowingly to you.

Draco looked at you, eyes searching yours to understand how you were feeling, but he only found the sparkles of wonder.

“You’re a bit late to the party.” He laughed as you gave him a knowing look.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” He admitted quietly, turning to look back at the stars.

Your voice greeted him again, “Where’s Draco?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m with you right now.” He answered back, a small smile playing at his lips as your hand came out to shove his shoulder.

“Alright, alright. It’s just there- no you’re looking in the wrong area- next to the Big Dipper.” He said, pointing in the direction of the constellation.

You propped yourself up on your forearm, looking at Draco who was still flat on the ground.

“How do you know all this?”

He shrugged, fingers going to play with your own absentmindedly, “Mum would bring me out here when I was little and had a bad dream. She’d point out the constellations and stars, our family, she’d call them, until I fell asleep.”

Draco spoke calmly but his voice was heavy with emotion, his eyes unmoving from the sky above him as he longed for a simpler time, for a time he could run to his mother when he had a nightmare instead of having to self soothe.

You noticed the way he seemed to get lost somewhere, and you knew it’d be best if you didn’t pry. Draco was never good with prying and you understood he was vulnerable now.

“I’m quite lucky to be marrying you, Y/n.”

The smile you gave him was gentle, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I’ll be marrying someone I love.”

The confession had you giddy, unable to form the right words because just an ‘i love you too’ would not satisfy the magnitude of how deeply you loved this boy. Deciding to show him instead of  tell him, you were quick to lean down to his lips.

Draco moved fast, his hand not wasting any time to grab hold of your jaw and draw you in closer. He pushed himself up onto his elbow, face now level with yours, though only for a moment as he used his weight to push you to lie on your back. He heard you whimper into the kiss, making electric jolts shoot through his body before he pulled away slowly.

“The stars aligned when you were made to be my wife.” He whispers, his thumb going down to caress the fresh Dark Mark that seemed to not belong on your ethereal body.

Draco felt his lips tug into a smile at the memory but it didn’t help the tremble in his hands. His eyes wandered through the sky trying to find the constellation, his constellation. But he exhaled hopelessly as it seemed the stars had turned their back on him this night.

“Draco, they’re here.” Your voice was rough, and you spoke in breaths as you told him of the success of the vanishing cabinet with the news of the newly arrived Death Eaters.

He gave you a quick nod but his eyes welled with tears, “I suppose it’s too late to throw myself off this tower then.”

“Draco, you don-”

His anger seemed to take over as his face contorted to an expression of frustration, “Don’t- don’t say that. You know what he’d do to my family, to me. You know what he’ll do to you. I have to do this.”

“He’s doing this to punish your father Draco, he knows you can’t do it.”

This only seemed to fuel the fire, you soon realized.

“I can do it! I will do it, for you and for my dad. You can't change my mind.”

You took in a breath, battle already lost as you said, “I know. And I know you’ll hate yourself forever if you were the one to do it.”

“As long as I still have you to love me, the sun will shine again.” His tone turned cold before starting again, “We should go, he’ll be coming back any moment now.”

That was the night you and Draco had a hand in catalyzing the war.

The war was dark, especially for those marked with the remnants of death. You watched on the sidelines, a bystander to evil, and watched your family commit unspeakable acts. And you’d do it all over again if it meant your memory would be cleared of the way Draco slowly crumbled as the war went on, his cheeks sinking in, and eyes losing their shimmer. You’d go through it all if it meant you could forget the way Draco ate away at himself from the inside out.

Draco was running on empty as the Battle of Hogwarts began, the thought of being with you in the end was the only thing really keeping him going. It was the way you’d still curl into his side during the nights you spent in his room, your hand reaching for his underneath the dinner table when the Dark Lord would torture his next victims high in the air, and it was your body that was warm and bare that seemed to make him forget, just for the night, that he was destined to be the villain.

His hands ran down your bare sides, his head buried in your neck as he kept pace with his thrusts. Your moans spurring him on and your fingers that ran through his slightly sweaty hair, starting from the nape of his neck.

As Draco slowly drew out your release, he wasn’t a killer, he wasn’t a Death Eater, and he wasn’t fighting on the wrong side of the harrowing war. He was just your lover, grateful for the trust you instilled in him to care for your body as no one else has.

He pressed a kiss to the black swirling of the Dark Mark on your wrist, you had already fallen asleep as he did so. He looked at the mark as a disgrace to the skin he believed to be free of any and all imperfection. Draco hated it.

It was with fear and guilt that you two fought at Hogwarts, not for the cause but for each other. Every spell and every curse was in the name of your lover, and you couldn’t help but pray that it ended soon.

Ended, it did, with Draco and you finally fighting for a better cause. The Dark Lord had just been killed, his body crumbling to ash horrifically, and Draco was quick to grab your hand as he walked somewhere with purpose. He knew what would happen to those with the mark still on the grounds, regardless of who they helped in the end. He couldn’t lose you, not when you had just won.

That was how you had found yourself, hand in hand with Draco, in front of a fairly good sized house in the countryside somewhere. The house was old, not in condition, but in style. It stood tall as Weeping Willows extended delicate tendrils over the area, the exterior was a gentle sage green with white accents and many, many windows.

“It was left to me by my great-grandmother. It’s our home now.” Draco whispered, not wanting to ruin the fragile moments.

The emotions seemed to hit you like a tidal wave, not just from today but the past two years were finally over. Your shoulders shook with your cries and Draco watched nervously, worried you had changed your mind of loving him, and he wouldn’t blame you.

“What’s wrong, Darling?” Draco asked as he pulled you into his chest.

He smelled of ash and dirt, but his familiar scent of expense peeked through carefully. His clothes were tattere, much like yours, and hair messy but when you pulled away to look into his eyes you couldn’t help but think he was the most exquisitely attractive person you had ever seen.

Your hands came up to cup his face, “I love you, Draco. So much.”

He smiled before kissing you gently, then his lips dropped to the inside of your left wrist placing another kiss there before pulling you towards the house. Walking on the white and grey cobble path made in the grass toward the house, you noticed the same little purple flowers that you had accompanied you when you kissed Draco for the first time outside of the manor.

Upon entering the house, you noticed the way it was evident it belonged to a family of wealth. The inside looked freshly cleaned, everything in its place. The interior was beautifully Victorian, it was proud as it basked in the light that pooled in through the large windows.

This was your home.

You and Draco loved your home, you married behind the house in the intricate garden with family and friends, your bouquet adorned generously with Heliotrope flowers. You healed your wounds of foolish childhood and rushed maturing within the walls, and it was in this home where you raised your children.

Arcturus Malfoy, named after a boy with a brave story that mirrored your own, a son whose pale blonde hair and cool blue eyes derived directly from his father, along with his nose but he got his stubbornness and sarcasm from his mother. Asterope, an asteroid that blazed bright without hesitation, the twin sister of Arcturus. Her hair and eyes were just like yours, but her lips were shaped like her father’s and her quiet stealth and calculated thinking was also, just like her fathers.

“Come on, we can’t have the train leaving without you two on it.” You said, holding your son's hand as Draco had your daughter.

Your daughter’s voice piped up, “It’s rather ridiculous this is the only way there.”

“Your dad said the same thing when we were almost late our fifth year.” You smiled at the memory.

Draco laughed at the way Asterope scrunched her nose at the other children making their way to platform 9 ¾. She was far too mature for the ripe age of eleven but he failed to remember himself as just the same way.

“You can just swim, Aster.” Arcturus said with a comically straight face before his lips split into a grin as he looked up at you.

You guys stopped in front of the barrier, fond memories warming your heart as you looked at the bricks.

“What now?”

You looked at Arcturus with a smile then turned to Asterope as you motioned for her to come stand next to her brother.

“You run through it.” Draco informed as he stood next to you, hand snaking around your waist.

“How convenient.”

“That doesn’t seem very safe.”

Both twins responded at the same time making you and Draco laugh. Eventually, Arcturus was the first to run through the barrier with his cart, Asterope following with furrowed eyebrows.

“You know she’s just like you.” You said, making Draco scoff.

“I was so much worse, Darling.”

His answer made you laugh, bringing up your intertwined hands to your lips. Placing a careful kiss to the barely there mark, it had started to fade the moment Voldemort was killed. Draco felt his heart flutter at the action, wondering how he got so lucky.

“Whatdya say? Run through it for good luck?” A mischievous glint flashed in your eyes.

“Of course.”

The otherside of the barrier was just as you remembered it, and the nostalgia made your eyes tear up. The goodbyes were quick, but still incredibly difficult for you and Draco to let go of your kids when they hugged you before boarding. You two waved as Asterope and Arcturus found their ways into the train.

You and Draco turned to leave as your kids settled into their compartments with kids they, presumably, just met. A mixture of blonde, brunette, and raven haired kids sat in one compartment no longer needing the ready hand of a parent.

“Y/n! Wait!” A voice called behind you, and if you had paid a little more attention maybe you would’ve recognised it, but instead you stood a bit frozen with Draco still wondering who it was.

“I still remember what you did.” The voice said again, making you finally turn around.

Your eyes found the culprit and you gulped, worried of what he was going to say.

“I never got to thank you.”

Fred Weasley smiled at you, his hand resting around the shoulders of a young boy with bright red hair and his father’s lopsided grin.

[to-star-lake]

Mars [ I ]

pairing | kth x reader genre | ahistorical au, military au, yandere!taehyung word count | 5.5k

The first time you saw him you were alone. 

It was dark. Pitch black behind the counter of an abandoned cafe where you were hiding. You were split up from the group you’d been traveling with during the raid. You heard the whoosh of an incoming bomb somewhere in the distance, then the thundering boom when it hit. The building shook. Dust and soot fell from the ceiling. You clasped your hands together over your head, hiding your face between your knees.

Outside you could hear screams from all directions. The sound of rapid gunfire. The crunch of wooden beams and bricks being crushed under the weight of the enemy tanks that rolled over them in the streets. 

You were scared, but you didn’t cry. Actually, you couldn’t remember when the last time was that you did cry. How long had it been since you were displaced from your home and your family because of the war? How long had it been since you were in the company of anyone you knew? The last you saw of your hometown, a small quiet village by the sea - it was burning, lost to a cloud of flames and ash. You’d long since stopped crying. Long since stopped wishing for the war to end, wishing for better days, for safety, for any kind of comfort. You came to accept the hunger, the cold, the stench of burning bodies in the streets, being on the run. 

You heard the sound of glass shattering. Where was it? The building across the road? But the sound was too close. You lifted your head from under your arms and before you, as a reflection in the glass of the cabinet once meant to hold pastries, you saw the shadow of a man entering the cafe. He was alone, you noted. You had a chance. 

Sliding further down under the counter, you held close to your chest the small pastry knife you found on the counter when you first entered the building when the raid warning horns blasted across the town. You became conscious of every breath you took, breathing in and out slowly and with purpose - to slow down your heart rate, and in hopes of concealing your presence. 

Glass crunched under his boots as he walked into the building. You gripped the knife tighter in your hand. He stopped moving. You inched yourself just ever so slightly to your left, so you could find his reflection in the glass again but it was too much. 

The glass shattered in an instant as a bullet hit it. You quickly ducked your face behind your forearms, you could feel the sting on your skin as stray shards streaked across it. You shouldn’t have looked. He saw you. 

He fired thrice more, breaking the glass of the counter above you. Broken glass fell all around you and you pulled your limbs in even closer, hearing your own shallow breaths like an echo in your ears, ringing from the sound of the gun firing so close. You waited until it was quiet again. And you ran. 

You stood, and forced your legs to pick up as much momentum and speed in a few seconds as your weak body could muster. Just to the door. Just to the exit out the back of the building. But as fast as you tried to move, he was faster. 

Wood splinters broke off from the door frame where he fired another shot as you tried to run through it. You heard his steps behind you, wondering just how it was possible he was able to catch up to you so quickly. You swung around, lashing the knife in your hand but he ducked back, the blade missing the skin of his cheek by centimeters. His hand gripped around your arm, squeezing your wrist in a painful clutch. Your hand fell open, the knife dropped to the floor, clattering as it hit the broken glass under your feet. 

You writhed, trying to break free of his grasp but failed. The darkness made it difficult to see, but he towered above you, a vice grip on your wrist, and his eyes were hidden behind a veil of dark hair. But even in the dark you could tell the uniform he wore - a black coat with gold trimming, the patch over his chest, an emblem of the enemy. 

“Please..let me go..” the words you uttered would sound like a desperate plea, but the tone of your voice showed him that you were resigned to whatever fate will bring. You knew you were done for. You’d been captured. There was no way he would just let you go. 

Thoughts of what will befall you ran through your mind. Would you be sent to the labor camps in the north - to work, to freeze, to starve, to die a slow, painful, diseased death? Would he claim you as a spoil of war - make you serve him, a slave girl, to use you in any way he pleased? Or would he be merciful - and put a bullet in your head here and now? You prayed for this last. 

Past him you could see a tank turning onto the road, the flash of light from the high beam flew past your face, and you felt him run a hand behind your head, lacing his fingers into your hair, pulling your face back into the light. This pain barely registered, lost between the deafening ringing in your ears and the blood that trickled down your arms from splintered wood and crushed glass, your nerves were frayed after years of being on the run. 

He stepped closer, so close you could feel his breath on your skin. You could see the splatters of blood across his face. The overwhelming metallic smell of blood on his clothes made you nauseous. You held your breath, and from behind the long strands of his hair, dripping droplets of blood onto his cheeks, he examined your face. 

It was only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, he let go of your hair, but kept his hand around your wrist and pulled you out from behind the counter. He brought you out onto the street, tugging you while you screamed in protest, though you knew no one was there to answer your pleas for help. Your bare feet dragged and pulled against him on the gravel and broken glass in the street. He brought you to an armored vehicle outside the building. 

You screamed in protest, pushing against the metal frame of the door, writhing and wriggling your body in any way you could but it was useless against the force and strength of his arms. He pushed you onto the passenger seat and held both your wrists up to the handle above the door. He looped a zip tie around your wrists and tied you up to the handle, so tight you swore the plastic material cut into your skin. He then tied your ankles. 

All around you was fire, ash and smoke. Bodies dropping to the ground under a cloud of red dust. He moved swiftly around the vehicle, jumping into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, and you fell back against the seat, swaying with the force of the car as he turned and sped down the road through the burning town. 

You must’ve been in the car for hours when he pulled up to a set of black iron gates, guarded by six men armed with machine guns that hung around their torsos. They seemed to recognize him immediately, saluting and greeting him. They exchanged glances and shot you looks, but no one made mention of you, only opening the gate immediately to let him drive through. 

He stopped in front of a large stone estate. You recognized it. It had once been the home of the governor of this land. Now it housed the enemy combatants. You wondered what happened to the family that lived here before the war. 

He walked around to the passenger side and pulled a knife from his belt. You flinched but he reached up to untie you from the handle above the door. He cut through the ties that bound your feet. You grimaced as he pulled you from the vehicle, the cut-up soles of your feet stung against the rough gravel. 

“Captain!” 

You turned at the voice. A young man, tall and thin, donned in the same uniform as the man that captured you, appeared from within the estate. Only now in the brightly lit lot of the compound you could see his young man had far less pins and medals than the man that brought you here. 

He hurried down the steps of the building and saluted the man beside you. 

“The town’s taken.”

Hearing his voice for the first time shocked you. Partly because it was at a much lower register than the young man saluting him, and partly because you did not expect him, the enemy, a dog of war, to have such a sophisticated tone. 

“Sir, that’s excellent, the General will be glad to hear of it-”

Before he could finish, the man beside you pushed you forward, causing you to momentarily lose your balance, and you would’ve fallen to the ground had the young man not caught you in his arms and steadied you back onto your feet. 

“Take her to Inah.” 

“Um..sure, uh, I mean, yes sir!” the young man called out. 

The man he called Captain swung the heavy machine gun he carried around his torso off, and slid off his overcoat. Even though the shirt he wore underneath was black, you could tell from the way the material was dampened and stuck to his skin that it was drenched in blood. 

“And Soobin,” he turned to address the young man as he walked up the steps. 

“Yes, sir?” 

“No one touches her.” 

The young man made a face. “Sir?”

The Captain turned and continued up the steps. “Have Inah tend to her wounds and get her some fresh clothing and food. Then bring her to my quarters.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Once the Captain had gone, the young man turned and looked down at your face, speckled with dried blood and ash and dust, your hair clumped together from not having been washed in what felt like ages. He wrinkled his nose at the sight of you. 

“Come on,” he grabbed onto your arm and pulled you roughly up the steps of the building. 

Inside there were many guards, roaming the halls in pairs. The rooms were dimly lit by wood-burning fires, or candles on chandeliers overhead. It was surprisingly quiet inside. So quiet it brought a ghastly unease, a stark contrast to the shell-shocked war zones you’d fled. 

He led you up a marble stairwell, down several hallways, until you reached the end of a narrow hall and he knocked on a single door at the end. The door creaked open and you saw a woman emerge from behind it. 

“The Captain wishes her to be cleaned and given fresh clothing,” Soobin pronounced, and you watched as an almost indetectable flicker went across her eyes, but she quickly regained her composure. 

“...the Captain?” she asked in a small, squeaky voice. 

“Yes, and once that’s done, the Captain wishes she be brought to his quarters. And instruct the servants to bring his supper as well.” He shoved you forward through the open door. 

“Yes, sir,” the woman said, bowing. The young man turned swiftly and left down the hall. 

She closed the door behind him, and looking around, you found yourself in the drawing room of what looked to be the servants’ quarters. There was no decor, sparse furniture, and the room felt cold compared to the rest of the house. 

“Lira,” the woman sighed. 

“Yes, Lady Inah?” you turned and saw a girl who could not be older than you emerge from an adjacent room. 

“Please go down to the kitchen and instruct the servants to bring supper to the Captain, he’s returned.” 

The girl gave a small bow before turning and leaving. As she left, two other girls came into the room. You stood, arms clasped in front of your chest, cold and unsure what to do. 

“Bring water and a washcloth,” the woman instructed. One of the girls nodded, bowing and leaving to her task. “And a fresh gown.” The other girl followed suit. 

The woman looked at you up and down, walking a circle around you like an appraiser assessing an item. The girls returned and they assisted the woman in stripping you of all your clothing against your yells of protest. They cleaned your face and body with washcloths and warm water that smelled of berries and mint. They poured water over your head, and ran a brush through your hair, and cleaned it with rose fragranced water. They cleaned the scrapes and cuts on your arms and your feet, and bandaged them lightly with linens. Then they pulled a white gown over your head. It hung loosely around your chest and torso, the straps were adjusted to keep from falling off your shoulders.

“Follow me,” the woman said. 

She led you out into the hall, through a labyrinth of turns and stairs to the uppermost level of the house, to a set of large double doors in a glossy, veneered oak. One of the doors was slightly ajar, and you could see the orange glow of a fire from within. 

“You will not speak unless first spoken to,” the woman instructed, coming to a halt before the doors. “You will obey the Captain’s wishes, all the Captain’s wishes.” She knocked quietly on the doors. “The Captain has never brought back a servant, and he has never wished to take any of the girls here at the compound,” she lowered her voice. “Consider yourself lucky. If the Captain fancies you, you may be allowed more freedoms and be given more rewards than any of the other servant girls here. The General holds him in the highest favor because of his wrath and cruelty in war. He is an esteemed soldier.” 

“Come in,” you heard his voice from within the room. 

You felt your chest tighten.

“Just keep your head down, and do as you’re told,” were her last words before she adjusted her posture, and cautiously, pushed the door open a bit more, and entered. 

“Sir, I have brought you the girl,” she pushed your forward. 

The room was expansive, and there were doorways you saw that led to adjacent rooms. At the far end, there were  large windows, reaching from the ceiling to the floor, they must’ve been eight meters tall. Two of them were doors, with large bronze handles that led out to a marble balcony. The room was lit by a billowing fire from a stone hearth. Against the wall there was a large bed under a velvet canopy. Occupying the rest of the room was a round table with two chairs beside it, on top of which held dishes, steam rising from them, a basket of assorted breads and pastries, and a tea set. And beside that, close to the fire, you saw a cot, low to the ground, covered with a wool military-issue blanket and a small, square pillow. 

“You may leave,” he said, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. 

The woman took a deep bow, and turned to leave the room. She closed the door behind her and all there was was you, standing in the middle of the floor of his room. And him, unfastening the buttons of his shirt, and sliding it from his body, and all he had was a dark t-shirt, tucked into the black military slacks. 

He sighed, tossing the shirt aside onto the floor before looking up at you. 

He’d pushed his hair back, revealing his eyes and in the orange glow of the fire, and in his dark irises you could see only what you’d always seen in the enemy - brutality, savagery, violence. 

He stood, and you listened to the thump of his boots against the marble floor as he made his way over to the table beside the fire. He pulled out a seat and stood behind it. 

“Sit.” 

You moved cautiously toward the table, your legs buckling from pain of overuse in all your running and hiding. You sat slowly, and he took a seat across the table from you. 

“Eat,” he moved an empty porcelain plate toward you, and began putting morsels of food onto it - a piece of bread, a bowl of soup, some kind of vegetable and meat dish you hardly recognized because it’d been so long since the last time you tasted anything other than stale and moldy bread. He began plating food onto his own dish as well, and you watched, listening with disgust as he held a piece of bread to his lips, ripping off a piece with his teeth. The sound of him chewing made you nauseous, you wanted to throw up. 

He stopped, noticing your obvious discomfort - you’d pushed yourself against the back of the seat, your body rigid. He set down the fork in his hand, sighing. 

“Eat, you must be starving,” he reached across the table, pushing your plate closer to you. 

You didn’t move. 

He brought the napkin that laid on his lap to his lips, then dropped it onto the table. “What’s your name?” 

You didn’t answer. 

He sighed, standing up and moving his chair beside you. You flinched. He sat down, too close to you for comfort, and took the utensils that lay beside your plate and began cutting the food into bite-sized pieces. He took the piece of bread and broke that up too, dropping pieces of it into the soup to soften. 

Your eyes caught the balcony door behind him, not five feet away - it was slightly ajar. He noticed this. 

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” his voice lowered, setting the utensils back down on the table. “I can’t do anything for you if you leave this room, if you attempt to flee. My men will shoot you immediately.” He sat back in his seat, resting his hands on his legs. “What’s your name?” he asked again. 

You still did not answer. 

“Even the people of this godforsaken country have names,” he sighed. 

This woke an anger in you. 

You grabbed the dinner knife from beside your plate and lunged toward him, but just as before, he was faster. He grabbed your arm, squeezing it and the knife fell from your hand. He pulled you onto the floor beneath him and he closed his other hand around your throat with enough force that you felt your larynx would be crushed if he closed his hand just the slightest bit more. He could kill you like this, and it would be easy for him. 

Your eyes began watering. You weren’t crying, the warm droplets that fell were due to you the pain of the hand closed around your throat, your eyes stung from the salt of your tears as you gasped for air. 

“You’re nothing but a killer..” you choked out. Something seemed to flash across his eyes, and he dropped you to the floor. You coughed hacking breaths, fighting for air. You had only the strength to hold yourself on your forearms. “This was a beautiful country, a peaceful country of farmers and horsemen. Why did you come..you destroyed everything..you know nothing of this land, of its people, you kill and torture indiscriminately..” you rasped. 

Through the hair that’s fallen over your face you could see him lean onto his elbows on his legs, sighing. After a moment he stood, bending over to pick you up in his arms, but you screamed and yelled, hitting him with ineffective fists and he walked you over to the cot in the corner, dropping you on it. 

You tried to stand, but your legs failed you, and his hand fell on your shoulder, and with just the smallest amount of force he was able to push you back down. 

He crouched in front of you, and reached a hand up to brush a few strands of hair from your shoulder, to examine your neck. You flinched at the contact, and he retracted his hand quickly. 

“I’ll have them keep the food here, but it’ll become cold if you don’t eat it soon. You’ll sleep here. I apologize this was all I could manage for tonight, I will arrange for better accommodations tomorrow. The adjacent room is my office, I’ll be taking meetings tonight and working, I hope that will not disturb you too much. Servants will also be coming in and out to bring tea, help yourself to whatever you’d like. There is a bathroom through that door on the other side.” He stood. “Do not attempt to escape. I say this for your own sake.” 

---

For as long as he could remember, he’d been a soldier. When he was young, in the dusty streets of his hometown, impoverished, homeless, without family, living off of what he could beg for, what he could find, what he could steal. 

All around him was uproar, anger and fury, unrest amongst the people. Disease ran rampant in this poor country, there was not enough food and water, the people suffered. He heard tell of a nation to the west - a thriving nation, of lush green fields that rose on high white towers of rock above a pale blue ocean. Of abundant food, of smiles and laughter, without worries of whether one would live to see the sunrise the next day. 

He lingered on that thought - the thought of sunrise. How long had it been since he’d seen the sun, shining clear and bright in the sky? When it didn’t seem so far away in the distance, hidden behind the billowing clouds of brown dust that plagued this nation? When was the last time he didn’t feel the hunger? The thirst, his skin and lips cracked and bleeding in the dry heat. 

War lords had risen across this sickened nation, amassing followers to their various causes, committing atrocities, pillaging towns and stealing what little was there in the first place. Until a man rose above it all, preaching that he would bring prosperity and hope to the people - that he would seek to bring the riches of the nation beside it to the people who were in real need of it. He tended the small, flickering flames that were people’s anger and discontent and grew it into an army, built on fury and malice, with a singular goal of bringing down the nation beside, and to share and revel in the riches that it would bring.

The boy was nineteen when he first saw a piece of dusty war propaganda on the street. He brushed the layer of dust away, and his eyes opened wide at the image it held - a drawing of young man in a peaked cap, facing a bright orange and red setting sun beyond the ocean, he stood on a cliff beside a pony, in grass so tall and lush it rose to his chest. 

He wondered what that would feel like. The grass that tickled at your skin, how soft it must be. The smell of the ocean. Rays of a warm sun hitting his bare skin. 

He’d kept the same spirit, the will to survive, and it served him well in the army. He rose through the ranks quickly. He fought well, better than anyone. He was ruthless. 

Soon, he’d gained the favor of the General, who named him Captain to an entire legion, which he led to devastating effect across the plains of the west to the ocean. 

He’d never wanted to kill anyone. He’d never wanted to burn down entire villages. He wanted to feel the sun, to dip his feet into the ocean, to know what sand would feel like beneath his feet. It began as a simple wish to do just that, but that wish became darkened by the deeds he piled up over the years, afflicted by an endless war, for the General did not stop at simply conquering this nation - his ambition and greed grew to an invasion of the entire continent. 

And as the years passed, he grew tired. Tired of the fire, of the burning smell of bodies in the streets, the wanton death and destruction. When he finally reached the ocean, the warmth of the sun on his face was not a welcoming sensation - the heat burned against his raw and scratched skin like a punishment for his sins. The waves of the ocean crashed against his body, cold as ice, and seemed to forsake him, pushing him back ashore. 

That night was not unlike any other he’d seen in the past six years. The general had instructions to burn down the three villages nearest to the compound they’d taken up, the former governor’s residence. His battalion was efficient, they had done this hundreds of times before. The homes and buildings in this small town burned down like butter close to a fire, this had become so easy for him he’d become numb to it. Numb to the destruction. 

A bomb dropped nearby and the row of buildings across the road from where he stood shook, cracks ran through the glass storefronts. Inside the buildings appeared dark and empty, he walked closer and broke through the glass of one of these storefronts. He detected movement, and on instinct, fired his weapon into the glass when he saw a figure stand from behind the counters, making a run for the rear exit. He fired again, but stopped immediately when he saw the long strands of dark hair. 

When he grasped onto your wrist and turned you to face him, he wondered how one could be so small, how one could be so fragile - he could break your wrist in his hand with just the slightest effort. When he looked into your eyes he was shaken by something familiar, something he recognized, a painful nostalgia. It was the look in your eyes - your spirit, that once held a will to fight, a will to survive, like he had as a child. But he could see that that spirit had been whittled down over the years, broken by a hopelessness so vast and heavy one could not escape it - you’d given up hope. 

“You’re nothing but a killer.” 

Your words echoed in his mind as he walked into his office in the adjacent room and took a seat behind a large mahogany desk. He felt goosebumps rise on his skin at the sight of your eyes, looking directly into his, without a single shred of fear - that they were cold, distant, detached, as the ocean had been when he’d finally touched it. They held no sympathy, though he did not expect they would. They were empty. 

“Sir, the General is here to see you.” 

He was brought out of his thoughts by a gentle knock on the door, and Soobin appeared through the frame, bowing. 

He nodded, “Soobin, please make arrangements to have furniture brought into this room first thing tomorrow. A bed, an armchair, and a nightstand to start. Have Inah bring the best linens she can find.” 

“Sir?” Soobin asked, a perplexed expression on his face. “What about your desk and chairs and books?”

“Have them moved into my room.” 

“Yes, sir,” he bowed again, and the Captain waved him off. As he left, the loud thumping of boots came into the room. 

“Taehyung.”

“General,” the Captain stood from his chair, taking a bow and saluting his commanding officer. 

“Oh please, there’s no need to stand on ceremony, it is only you and I here,” the General walked around to his side of the desk, his hands closing around the Captain’s arms, giving him a pat of approval on the shoulder. The Captain stepped aside, offering his chair to the General, who took a seat immediately. 

“The three towns northeast of here have been taken, tomorrow we will have scouts return to assess-”

“Oh Tae, there’s no need for that, I can get the details from one of the Lieutenants,” the General furrowed his brows, impatiently waving a hand in the air. 

“As you wish.” 

“Now tell me,” the General swung in his chair to face the Captain directly, his hands clasping together across his stomach. “I’ve just arrived here with my men, and what’s all this hubbub I’m hearing about a beautiful servant girl you’ve brought back?”

His jaw tightened. 

“Now, if I know you well, and I’d like to think I do after six years,” the General tilted his head quizzically to the side to look at the Captain’s face. “You are not the type to take a girl. Sure, all the men have taken girls for themselves, they have needs you know, I do not fault them for that.”

He looked down. 

“But you have seemed, over the years, to be quite, how shall I put it, well you look at the men with a bit of disdain? Though that would be a bit hypocritical, would it not, I know you’ve visited brothels here and there, I do understand that even you, the most stoic and controlled of soldiers must also give into your basest needs at some point..” 

He said nothing. 

“Oh now, surely I do not judge you, you are the best after all, you’re my favorite, you’ve won countless battles for me!” the General let out a nervous chuckle. “So it makes me wonder, who is this girl that you’ve suddenly decided to claim? Where did you find her? Where is she, may I see her?”

No, he answered definitively in his head. 

“She is being looked after by Inah,” he answered carefully after a moment. “She will be a serving girl in the compound, she will work in the kitchen and clean.” 

The General pondered this silently, much to the Captain’s dismay - he’d hoped he would not be questioned further on this. 

“So you mean to say..” the General began slowly, raising an eyebrow. “That this girl is free to serve whomever here?” 

The Captain stood abruptly. “Sir, as you said, I have done much for your,” he caught himself. “Our cause. I don’t yet have plans for this girl, but I do intend for her to earn her keep. As to whom she serves, I would greatly appreciate it if you and the other captains would remember that she belongs to me.” 

The General stared in incredulity at the Captain for a few moments, but the corners of his mouth soon lifted and he broke into boisterous laughter. “Oh Taehyung, my boy, look how serious you’ve suddenly become!” he stood, laughing and making his way over to the Captain. He put his hands around his shoulders once again, “Of course, she belongs to you, you found her, who else should we have her serve? Oh come now, you must be exhausted after this week, get some good rest. Though, if what I hear of this girl is true, you may yet have more physical exertion ahead of you tonight,” he chuckled. 

The Captain felt his hand close into the fist. It took all of his concentration and effort not to hit the General’s face, puffy and red from years of overindulging in liquor and food and tobacco. He composed himself, giving a low bow to the General as he turned and walked out into the hall. The Captain quickly closed the door behind him and took a deep breath in to calm himself. 

Slowly, he moved to the door on the opposite end of the room, peering quietly over the opening. Past the small dining table, he could see you, huddled back against the wall beside the cot. You sat on the floor, your knees pulled in tightly to your body, your head leaned to the side against the stone wall. The light emanating from the fire allowed him to see your face, your expression - that it had not changed since he left you a few moments ago. Your eyes held resignation, a numbing coldness. 

The Captain moved slowly back to his desk and took a seat in the leather armchair beside it. He reached out for the map that laid on the top of his desk and looked at the large red circles and arrows on it. In the far bottom-most corner of the map he brushed his fingertips past a small town by the ocean. It’d been untouched by the war, thousands of miles away from the fire and famine. He thought about what he would do next. 

[you-didnt-see-that-cuming]

Soft Touches | Draco Malfoy x Reader Part One

Summary: When Y/N had first met Harry and Ron on the train, she would have never thought that that interaction would have led to years of adventures and near-death experiences. Throughout their time at Hogwarts, several things had become clear. First, there will be at least one thing that tries to kill you a year. Second, Draco Malfoy was Harry’s archenemy. Third, no matter how hard she tried, Y/N still had just as big a crush on the blond as the first day they met. Harry and Ron would never let her live that one down while Hermione was at least a little understanding. Y/N knew that some of the things that Draco had done were horrible, and she would probably never forgive him for the things he had said to Hermione. And yet, she still liked him.

Warnings: No warnings yet!

Words: 1779

AO3 Link

Masterlist

A/N: Lmao I’m back and I’ve been on draco tiktok

As expected, being a fifth year student was far more stressful than anyone could have imagined. Not only did they have the O.W.L.s to study for, but ever since Umbridge had been brought on as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, you had to practically teach yourself if you wanted a proper defense theory. At this rate, a muggle would probably know more about defense against dark magic. Either you practiced on the weekends, which almost no one aside from Hermione did, or during free periods.

It was only a few weeks from Halloween and autumn was in full swing. The grounds were painted with trees that held an array of yellow, orange, and gold leaves and there was a strong smell of bonfire, hot cider, and butterscotch that wafted across the hills during the day. On late afternoons, when the air was crisp and the sky slightly darker than what it had been during the first month of term, the courtyards and hills near the Black Lake were the perfect places for students to relax.

Y/N was sitting on the sill of one of the arches that opened into the courtyard, writing in a leatherbound journal with her green quill when one of her textbooks slipped out of the opening of her bag and smacked onto the stone floor below. She had barely registered the sound when someone had reached down and picked it up, extending their hand to her. Y/N’s eyes followed the line up the owner of the hand’s toned arm until she had reached their face. 

Instead of Draco’s usual sneer, there was no wrinkle between his brow, and his features were soft. Her hand slowly extended to meet his, and their fingers brushed against one another as she grasped the book. His startling blue eyes were veiled with an unreadable expression.

She was still too shocked to say anything, but the corner of her lips turned up slightly in a silent thank you. Draco stared for a few more seconds before his hand fell back down to his side and he turned, striding down the empty corridor. Y/N stared at his retreating figure. He wasn’t wearing his robes, despite the crisp chill that hung in the air, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, displaying his forearms and the distinct veins that ran across his skin. 

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

It was nearly nightfall when Hermione had found her, still staring at the end of the corridor, deep in thought. 

“Where have you been? It’s time for dinner, Harry and Ron have already started without us.” Hermione questioned softly. Y/N turned her head, looking a little dazed.

“I’ll tell you later tonight, in the dormitories.” Hermione tilted her head and smiled a little.

“Knowing you, you’ve probably been out here for hours. Come on, before Ron eats all the best parts.” She stretched her hand out and pulled Y/N from her seat. Together, they walked arm in arm to the Great Hall, taking in the setting sun through the tall window panes and the lingering chill that had swept over Hogwarts over the past few days. 

It was getting colder, and the Winter recess was creeping closer day by day. As the two girls walked to the Great Hall, all they could smell as they walked through the open-air corridors was birch smoke coming from Hagrid’s hut and cold air. Y/N breathed deeply and sighed contentedly. She was convinced that there was absolutely nothing better than autumn at Hogwarts, and not even Professor Umbridge could spoil that. 

The second they opened the door to the Great Hall, it was like being hit by a wall of warmth, light, and the wonderful smells of the banquet. Y/N finally snapped out of the haze she had been in all afternoon once she realized how hungry she truly was. Hurriedly, the two of them sat down on the bench across from Ron and Harry, both of whom were animatedly discussing the upcoming quidditch game against Slytherin. They were discussing different strategies to use, especially since the Slytherin team was notorious for cheating. 

Y/N had joined the Gryffindor team as a Chaser only a year after Harry had and had experienced her fair share of Slytherin fouls to last a lifetime. Y/N caught sight of some serving platters and began serving herself along with Hermione. 

“So what were you doing all day? I haven’t seen you since breakfast this morning.” Y/N asked as she filled the corner of her plate with mashed potatoes. 

“Isn’t the answer obvious? She was in the library of course, where else would she be?” Ron interjected as he stole a roll of bread off of Hermione’s plate. Evidently he and Harry were done talking about quidditch, Ron had piled loads of food on his plate and Harry was stuffing chicken into his mouth. The two started to bicker until Ron shoved the entire roll into his mouth. 

Y/N was watching amused as Ron tried to speak around the bread roll when a flash of blond hair caught her eye. Just over Ron’s shoulder, Draco was just beginning to sit down next to Pansy Parkinson who was absorbed in a conversation with Blaise Zabini who sat across from her. Draco and Y/N’s eyes met briefly before both of them shifted their gazes. Hermione paused for a moment, looking at Y/N and then to Draco before a subtle look of realization dawned across her face. Suddenly, she switched the conversation to their History of Magic paper that was due by the end of the week.

“What have you two chosen for your topics?” Hermione questioned, making Harry and Ron freeze. They obviously hadn’t chosen a topic yet, let alone begun writing. 

“Erm, well… Here’s the thing Hermione-” Ron had begun stammering when Hermione cut him off.

“What is wrong with you? Professor Binns assigned this paper over two weeks ago!”

“I haven’t had time, I’ve had quidditch practice nearly every day and Snape hasn’t exactly eased up on Potions assignments, has he?” Harry defended himself, poking at a carrot on his plate and avoiding Hermione’s gaze. 

“Harry, I’ve been at the exact same quidditch practices as you and I’m almost finished with my paper. I’m writing about Grindelwald’s rise to power. You need to find a topic and fast!” Y/N said pointedly. Ron sat up at the mention of Y/N’s topic. “And no, you cannot use that topic, pick something else!” Ron deflated once again. 

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

They eventually finished their dinners, filed out of the Great Hall, and began heading towards Gryffindor Tower. Once they had finally entered through the portrait hole, Hermione grabbed Y/N by the crook of her elbow and pulled her up to their shared dormitories. Once she had shut the door behind them, she whirled around to face Y/N and pointed to her bed.

“Sit. We need to talk.” Hermione walked over and sat across from her. “What was that look that you gave Draco at dinner?”

Y/N looked down at her hands, an embarrassed flush across her cheeks. She was fiddling with the hem of her skirt and refused to look Hermione in the eye.

“Well, earlier today I was by myself writing in the courtyard, and I guess I must have knocked over one of my books because the next thing I know, Draco was just standing there, handing it to me. It felt like I was in a dream, he didn’t say anything, but he looked… different. I don’t really know how to describe it. He looked… soft, almost?” Y/N groaned and threw herself backwards onto the pillows, her legs hanging off the side of the bed. Hermione shifted so that she was lying next to Y/N and facing her.

“Okay,” she said carefully, “what does that mean exactly?”

Y/N paused for a moment in thought. What did it mean? Y/N had never thought about Draco in that way before, and the spark she felt when their fingers brushed together couldn’t have just been her imagination.

“I… don’t know. I don’t really know how to explain it. Whenever I start thinking about it, I feel this squeezing in my chest, like I can’t breathe properly.” Y/N closed her eyes and pictured Draco’s face once again. Hermione also seemed to be lost in thought, but those thoughts were most likely not about how handsome Draco looked with his hair pushed back and his sleeves rolled up. Hermione stretched her hand out and grasped Y/N’s hand.

“Well, I suppose it could be worse. It could have been Goyle handing your book back to you.” The two girls looked at each other before bursting into laughter. Goyle wouldn’t touch a book, let alone read one. In fact, it was unclear of whether or not he could actually read.

Once their laughter had died down and the two were sitting in comfortable silence, a thought dawned upon Y/N.

“You won’t tell Harry or Ron about this, will you? Knowing them, they’ll make a fuss about it and then never let me live it down.” 

Hermione smiled in response.

“‘A fuss’ is a bit of an understatement. ‘What do you mean you fancy Malfoy?! He’s a git!’” Hermione’s impersonation was spot on and the two girls laughed once again.

The two girls then spent the next few hours talking about their classes, Y/N and Harry’s upcoming quidditch match, and making plans for their weekend in Hogsmeade. Y/N wouldn’t have to worry about Draco until the quidditch match, and that wasn’t for another 3 days. So for 3 days, Y/N would avoid him and distract herself with studying for midterm exams and Quidditch practice.

[ladywaifuuwrites]

The Hotel

Pairings: Sanemi Shinazugawa x fem! Reader

Synopsis: Sanemi goes to your peculiar hotel which is for dead people.

Warnings/Tags: Hotel Del Luna! au | blood | verbal torture???

a/n: Major manga spoilers ahead! Picture not mine!

I have been aching to write this for months and finally here it is. I added some elements of the hotel on my own since it’s been so long since I last watched it, so forgive me if there are some differences. This is not drama accurate okay?

I don’t know why but I feel like using “(Y/n)” instead of “You’ here.

The hotel is operating as usual in the night, the main floor is busy accommodating the lost souls. The hotel changes its appearance during the night, growing into a taller building towering among others in the city. People would freak out if they saw a building pop out of nowhere, but normal people can’t see the hotel.

Dead people would.

They would naturally find themselves at the front of the hotel as if it were calling their name. It was indeed calling his name as Sanemi found himself standing in front of it. 

The architecture was different compared to the other buildings in the city. It was majestic and quite ahead of its time, like it was separated from the rest of Japan. He was staring up at the hotel, mouth slightly open because it was his first time seeing something like it. 

Then a cold breeze passed by him and when he looked beside him, his eyes were gonna pop out of its sockets. 

“Hello Shinazugawa-san!” A bloodied demon slayer was beaming at him brightly. The smile on the demon slayer’s face dropped down as if he realized something. “Are you dead too?” The boy asked but Sanemi didn’t answer, so the boy sighed. “I hope Muzan will be defeated soon. I trust our comrades.” He mumbled under his breath.

Sanemi couldn’t speak a single word for he was confused. Dead? Was he dead? Then he remembered the previous events, he was thrown to a building by Muzan’s tendrils. He looked down to the ground and he was indeed dripping with blood but he can’t feel any pain. He faced the young demon slayer. “You go ahead.” He said hesitantly and the boy nodded happily, opening the wide doors of the hotel.

“What is this place?” Sanemi walked in and found himself agape in awe. To his right side, there was the front office with a huge key rack. A weird door stood in front of him, and a bright crystal thing was dangling above him. Everything was so new and beautiful that it filled Sanemi’s empty heart with joy.

He curiously trudged forward, having a staring battle with the weird door. He tried opening it but it was hard as steel. But he still pushed it with all his strength but no luck. 

He sighed as he parted his hair in frustration. Wet trickling sounds came closer to him as he felt a colder breeze. Sanemi’s heart jumped at the sight beside him. A woman who was bloodied and drenched in water pushed the circle button and the doors opened.

The woman entered and Sanemi followed suit. “Thank you” He said quietly but he heard no response. 

What the fuck is this place?

Sanemi could feel that he was moving upwards and he felt quite nauseous. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The moving finally stopped and he heard a “ting!” sound.

When he opened his eyes, he was not prepared to see all of these. It was an even bigger floor than the one earlier. A large shining crystal chandelier hung on the ceiling, big grand staircase at the middle, luxurious looking furnishes, illuminating bright lights and people everywhere. He stepped out of the elevator and circled, taking in the marvelous sight around him. It was like a breath of fresh air, everything was so foreign. So enchanting. 

He finally stopped sighing in awe when two large guys approached him. They grabbed both of his arms and dragged him away. 

“Stop it! You fuckers! Don’t touch me!” He struggled with all of his might but the two large men was far more strong, possessing impossible strength.

He was brought to a tall wooden door adorned with intricate golden details and expensive polished wood. One guy knocked, not letting go of Sanemi. They waited for a few seconds until a feminine voice spoke.

“Come in!” 

They pushed the huge doors and Sanemi was welcomed into an equally large room. The room itself screams luxury. But the woman sitting prettily at the center sofa was even more luxurious and beautiful. 

Sanemi never saw someone as beautiful as her.

“What is this?” 

“A human at the lobby.” The woman’s eyes widened and her mouth formed an “o”. She blinked a few times and stood up. “Leave us” She ordered and the two large men exited.

(Y/n) furrowed her brows and took a closer look at Sanemi. “You’re not dead.” She said in an amused tone with a slight smirk. (Y/n) sat down and poured tea into two cups. 

“Sit down” She ordered and Sanemi sat down opposite her. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. There was an aura in her that was commanding and enticing. Her hair was tied up, stray hairs framing her beautiful face, she was wearing a long beautiful kimono which Sanemi was sure that was made of expensive silk, exposing her collarbones. 

(Y/n) pushed the tea forward to him and gestured for him to drink it and Sanemi bowed before drinking, he seemed to have calmed down. 

“(Y/n) (L/n)” She introduces herself.

“Sanemi Shinazugawa.” He introduces himself which brought a smile to the beautiful woman’s face.

Her eyes went to the blade attached to Sanemi’s hip and you let out a snicker. “There’s an awful lot of you coming here tonight huh?” (Y/n) said in a teasing tone but somehow there was an underlying hint of pity. 

“A troop of demon slayers came in about an hour ago. It’s like I was watching a demon slayer parade.” (Y/n) lightly chuckled, sipped on her tea and continued. “They were confused about being dead, poor kids losing their lives so early.” She says while shaking her head.

“They were the ones who didn’t follow your master’s command. Stubbornness leads to death I suppose.” (Y/n)’s eyes creased as she she keeps on talking to the man in front of her. Sanemi’s eyes widened because how in the world did this woman know that information?

(Y/n) kept talking and Sanemi grew impatient by the second. Anger bubbled in Sanemi because this girl who was living in the lap of luxury was taking his comrade’s deaths so lightly. 

“Listen here.” Sanemi says with a stern voice that made (Y/n) look at him in surprise.

“Those demon slayers fought with their lives to protect civilians like you. Those kids were brave until their last breath so don’t speak shit of them.” Sanemi spat which brought a smile to (Y/n)’s face.

She was about to say something but was interrupted by a knock on her door. (Y/n) said to come in and an old man with smiling eyes laid a folder on her table and left.

“That is the manager of the hotel. He’s the only human here.” (Y/n) said as she looked at the pages inside the folder.

“Hotel? Only human?” Sanemi asked in confusion but (Y/n) didn’t answer because she was focused on what she was reading. It took her for a few minutes to answer and put down the folder, shifting her focus to Sanemi.

She hummed in agreement, legs crossed and hands intertwined. “But apparently there are now two humans in the hotel. One of them is you.” (Y/n) points at Sanemi.

“Listen here.” She playfully mimicked Sanemi and leaned closer to him. “My hotel is called Hotel Del Luna. This is a hotel to accommodate souls before they go to heaven.”

She smacks her glossy lips and Sanemi can’t help but follow her movements which places a little smirk on (Y/n)’s lips. 

“As for your case, I don’t know why the hell you are here when you are not even dead. You are just on the verge of death with all the injuries you’ve been sporting.” She points out his now healed injuries. His clothes were not bloodied anymore too. 

“My room door has a magic beautifier and healer because no filthy being can enter here, but those injuries will come back when you wake up so don’t expect anything.” She continues. “You need to go out of the hotel because you don’t belong here. Besides if you stay here for long, you will really die.” 

(Y/n) stands up and motions Sanemi to follow her. “Let’s go wind hashira.” 

Sanemi’s heart jumps at her calling his title of wind hashira. The way it rolls of her lips is different from when others say it.

They are now outside the hotel and the outside turned into a tunnel. “This wasn’t the entrance before.” Sanemi thinks to himself, his train of thoughts is cut when (Y/n) calls out his name. 

“Go through the tunnel and you will find your way back. Don’t look back or you’ll be stuck here forever as my slave.” (Y/n) says half-playfully and half-serious, but she was mostly serious. 

Sanemi looks at the dark tunnel and back at the hotel owner. “How can I see you again?” Sanemi asks, he really wants to see her again even though it seems quite impossible.

(Y/n) laughs. “Die.” 

She deadpans which erases Sanemi’s hopeful look. But she laughs again which made the air around them lighter. “I don’t want you to see me again.” (Y/n) said in all seriousness and Sanemi could feel his heart become heavy.

“Because I will be the one to see you, I will visit you.” She says while smiling at Sanemi, and the man’s hopes returned, making a soft smile appear on his face. (Y/n) pretends she didn’t want to melt at his smile.

“Oh, don’t worry about your brother. He’s in good hands.” Sanemi smiled when he heard this and tears filled his eyes but he didn’t dare let them to fall. A comforting silence fell upon them until Sanemi spoke.

“Sayonara.” The white haired male said to her and she nodded her head slowly. 

“Sayonara.” She replied to his goodbye.

Sanemi turned around and headed towards the dark tunnel. But before he could be near to the entrance of the tunnel, (Y/n)’s hand tugged at his wrist. Sanemi could feel that her (e/c) eyes were sparkling with hope. 

“Muzan is long overdue, I trust you and the demon slayer corps that this night will be a successful one. I trust that you guys will bring that demon to me.” (Y/n) says with a smile and Sanemi held both of her hands. 

“We will.” 

*Sigh* 

“Don’t tell me this guy is gonna die again?!” (Y/n) stares at Sanemi’s collapsed figure. She crosses her arms while looking at the kakushis who are giving medical aid to the wind hashira. (Y/n) could feel her anxiety starting to grow by the minute because Sanemi won’t open his eyes. 

A moment after she sighs again, Sanemi opens his eyes and (Y/n) let out a breath of relief. She heads over to where Sanemi is laid, hovering above his body. He can’t see her right now because she is on invisible mode. (Y/n) caresses his cheek and Sanemi let out a “Fuck...”  

She chuckled and moved away from them. Then she glanced at the red haired boy with the hanafuda earrings, (Y/n) smiled and silently thanked everyone’s efforts before making her way back to where she belonged. 

BONUS

“Finally, Muzan Kibutsuji! I’ve been waiting for you...” (Y/n) says with a sinister smile, her red polished nails gripping Muzan’s shoulder tight. 

Muzan glares at her in annoyance, his dark locks falling in front of his face. 

“You’re so pathetic that you expected to pass down your legacy don’t you?” (Y/n) pouts in front of Muzan’s face, wanting to see his limits. The demon attempts to move but he just winced in pain.

“Uh oh. Have you forgotten 400 years ago? I tried slaying you but I wasn’t successful, and you tried killing me but you can’t. We’re just going back and forth back then.” (Y/n) laughs thinking of the time where she attempted to slay Muzan.

(Y/n) sighed mockingly. “Sadly, I’m not the one who will punish you. It’s not my job, my job is to make good souls comfortable. And you’re not a good soul. Wait for the mago, vengeful spirit.” (Y/n) winks at Muzan provokingly who’s tied down with a heavy enchanted chain. She walks away and closes the door behind her, leaving the demon in the darkness. 

Finally, everything was in place. 

She can’t wait to visit Sanemi after this!

a/n: (Y/n) got that Tamayo energy. Tamayo mvp. 🥳

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

I absolutely LOVE how you write angst, I'm always looking forward to a bit of hurt lol How'd the guys(romanced) react to being hit by the berserk syringe and start attacking Sole but come back to their senses right before actually killing Sole!?

i can’t imagine any of my boys hurting sole. this is such a unique scenario and i’m absolutely here for it! i’m not proud of this but please enjoy! <3

*i’ll edit this in the morning cause a bitch is tired.

[ tw: depression/violence/blood/injuries!!! ]

-

never in a million years did they expect the only person they’ve ever trusted to be the reason for their death. well, not the main reason, as the berserk syringe was the cause, but the fact that they were the reason why sole had been helpless on the floor only added on. they towered over sole, who laid in their puddle of blood, gasping in immense pain as they tried to use the last of their strength to plead. sole let out soft sobs, watching as their other half pointed the pistol at their head with no sense of remorse. this wasnt the way they expected to go, not by the hands of the only person they found love in.

“st..op..” they cried, trying to find the power to reach out to him. all the memories flashed through their mind; memories of their life before the bombs dropped, the moments they spent in the wasteland, and the day they fatefully encountered one another. they refused to die this way. sole mewled out his name, begging for him to stop. and just like that, they hesitated and regained consciousness, taking a moment to ground themselves into the situation and realize the horror of it.

-

Danse:

this was everything he’s ever feared since sole had landed into his life. he had dreams - not many - but definitely a fair amount of his loved one dying in his arms and he feared it may have been an omen wading in the darkness waiting to come to life - and it did, just not in the way he visualized. the sight of sole bleeding out in front of him brought him to a whole new level of fear. “sole?” he choked out in disbelief, unable to move. it’d take him a minute to piece everything together as his eyes darted from the weapon in his hand, to his surroundings, then the syringe... and it hit him. “shit!” he cursed, making his way to sole hurriedly and carried them off the ground, running towards goodneighbor. he had no time to talk, to cry, nor to feel sorry for himself. sole could be seconds away from dying and it’d be the last damn thing he’ll let happen. once someone had taken sole into their care, he would absolutely refuse to leave the building without knowing their status.

danse would sit in the chair or stand impatiently for hours on end, all thoughts of doing basic human necessities, such as eating and sleeping, completely slipping his mind. the minute he was given the chance to see sole, he did nothing but that and finally let the tears spill into the palms of his hands as he sat near soles bedside. sole would take him into their arms, kissing his hair gently as they caressed his head. “it wasn’t your fault,” they repeated constantly as reassurance, “none of it was.” despite soles words, he’d continuously blame it on himself for not being more attentive and have constant nightmares about what had happened, often finding himself in tears as he jolted awake. he’d explain to sole how he didn’t deserve them and how he was afraid it might just happen out of the blue again. it would take a long while for danse to get over his actions and a lot of reassurance from sole, who was more than glad to help him through these rough times.

Deacon:

deacon had panicked many times in various situations; you name it, it’s probably happened. but this? this was a different type of panic. one that he couldn’t avoid no matter how much he tried, regardless of how many lies and jokes he told himself. he darted to sole, taking them into his arms in a panicked manner as his breathing began to release in irregular patterns. “i didn’t do this, right?” he tried to push everything away, run from the truth that obviously surrounded the two, “sole, you know i’d never hurt you, right?” his voice trembled, hands shaking as he tried to move the hair out of their face. his stained hands and clothing told him nothing but the truth- he was responsible for what happened and there was nothing he could do. when sole let out a small, “i know,” and proceeded to look up at him with a tired expression, he broke down and held them close to his body, burying his face into their neck. “i’m sorry,” he sobbed, “i’m so fucking sorry.”

once sole had made it back to hq, he practically begged carrington to do everything in his power to help them survive. it took multiple people to hold deacon back as he fought against them, not wanting to leave soles side as they were taken away to a separate room. once carrington had given him the go to visit sole, he found himself rushing to the room, nearly ripping the door open. without another word, he latched onto them, letting everything he’s ever wanted to say to them spill out within seconds. how much he loved them, how they had changed his life, and things he wouldn’t normally say on a daily basis. sole would notice how he’d become excessively clingy right after that fateful moment and notice his attempts to cheer them up through jokes or little things he did for them throughout the day. during nightfall, he’d hold them in his arms, muttering apologies to them as tears spilled from his eyes. he didn’t know if he could forgive himself.. at least not for a while.

Maccready:

he choked on his own breath, throwing the gun to the side as far as possible. memories of lucy began flooding his mind and the thought of him being alone once more with additional blood on his hands only heightened his panic. with a loud sob, he dropped to his knees and brought sole to his arms, shakily caressing their cheek. “sole, sole. hon, look at me,” he choked through his tears, trying to keep them awake. he stroked their cheek with his thumb, trying to comfort them through the pain with words, touches, anything. “don’t close your eyes. please don’t leave me.” despite the condition they were in, they opened their eyes obediently, staring up weakly at mac who continued to sob. his tears fell off his face and right onto soles cheek, washing away any blood that trailed down. “we’re gonna get you help and you’re gonna get better. you’re gonna come home with me, duncan, and shaun, okay?” his hand moved down to lock with theirs as he gave it a reassuring squeeze, “they’re waiting for us at home, remember?” sole began to tear up, intertwining fingers with mac, “tell them i love them, please.” something triggered in mac and he shook his head, lifting them from the ground and finding his way to the closest town he could find, yelling at anyone for help.

after their wounds had been treated properly, the doctor had led him to the room where he saw his other half lay in bed, all patched up and taken care of. “they will be okay. i advise letting them rest for a while and try to stray away from any physical activity until they show signs of improvement.” the man noticed how mac stared at them with tears in his eyes and he coughed, “i’ll give you a moment, sir.” the sound of the door closing behind him would ease the tension he had in his shoulders and he would lean down, pressing a kiss on soles forehead as they slept.“you hear that, hon? you’re gonna be okay.” as soon as sole made it back home with him, he’d do everything he can to ensure that sole would recover properly. mac would do all the dirty work sole usually did and checked up on them as much possible, visibly worrying to death about them. at night, he’d have a hard time sleeping with the guilt weighing on his shoulders but soles words and affection were more than enough to ease his worries.

Hancock:

to say he hated himself at that very moment was a huge understatement, this being the cherry on top of everything on his list. he knew he’d fuck it up someday, but he never expected himself to go this far. even knowing that it wasn’t his fault and the syringe was the reason why he started attacking, it didn’t change the fact that it was done by his hands. he dropped and tended to soles injuries as much as he could before taking them back to goodneighbor. hancock used everything sole possessed- stimpacks, med x, etc while whispering reassuring things to them, knowing that blaming himself won’t do anything good. when sole weakly grabs his wrist and stares at him with fear and shock, he feels all his intentions of being calm sink to the ground. “am i gonna die?” oh god. never once in their time spent together has he ever heard them say something so heartbreaking. even in the craziest situations, they would always remain hopeful. hancock dropped whatever he held and scrambled to take them into his arms, attempting to soothe their mind. “you’re not gonna die. i’m not gonna let that happen.” he reassured, “there’s no fucking way in hell i’m gonna lose you.” hancock entering goodneighbor with sole in his arms would automatically send a message to the rest of the town and they’d begin readying the medical rooms and collecting all the medical supplies that were available for dr. amaris use.

sole had been discharged eventually into hancock’s care and he’d dote on them 24/7, ensuring that all their needs were met and would go above and beyond with everything they requested. while sole slept, he’d release his anger and bottled up thoughts by taking chems or going out to shoot things to release some emotions. whenever they were awake, he’d trace the wounds with his fingers gently and kiss their skin, apologizing about his actions endlessly. “it fucking hurts to know i did this.” he mutters, “i’m the one who’s supposed to be protecting you, not fucking doing the opposite.” sole would take his hand and brush their lips over his knuckles, “you’ve always protected me, none of this was on you,” hancock watched them with soft eyes, “we’ll get through this together, alright?” the mayor would nod, sending them a sad smile, “alright.”

Nick Valentine:

one of the many who refuses to say anything, but reacts quickly in response. he has no time for mourning or apologies right now and his main priority is to get sole help, even if it means kicking someone’s door down, then so fucking be it. he immediately wraps his coat around sole and carries them to the direction of diamond city, which was thankfully nearby. he whispered things he hoped they could hear despite their unresponsiveness, and silently begged that they’d be okay. when the doctor attempted to take sole into the emergency room, they had grabbed his wrist firmly, catching nicks full attention within seconds. “n-nick, don’t leave.” they pleaded weakly, tearing up when he looked down at them with grief and concern. nick rested a hand on their cheek, placing a soft kiss on their forehead. “sweetheart, i’m never gonna leave you. once you wake up, i’ll be here. i’ll always be here.” he whispered.

“promise?” sole whimpered, their hand still wrapped around nicks wrist. “i swear on it.” he looked up at doctor sun, who was assessing the injuries quietly, “we must act fast.” nick gave him a nod of approval, slowly feeling soles fingers slip away from his touch. as nick promised, he was there the minute sole had opened their eyes. he cupped their cheeks, leaning his forehead on theirs as he let out a shaky breath. “i’m so, so sorry.” they’d shake their head and remind him that it wasn’t his choice nor did they expect it to happen. nick decided to trust their words and though it did tend to lurk in the back of his mind often, he pushed it away as much as he could. he’d definitely become more cautious the next time they would hit the road and sole would notice that his paranoia reached to a whole new level.

Preston:

this seemed too familiar. the sight of his hands full of soles blood brought him back to when quincy was attacked by the gunners. it reminded him of how much people he couldn’t save back home and it surfaced emotions he yearned to forget, only this time.. it was way worse. “no, no, no.” he weeped, taking sole into his arms, “please, please tell me it’s a bad dream.” they had never seen preston so devastated in his life as loud sobs escaped his lips. sole weakly wrapped their fingers around prestons forearm, staring up at him through half lidded eyes. “it’s okay, preston.” their voice was strained and the color draining from their face only made his cries louder. “no, it’s not okay! i can’t lose you,” he said, “i lost everything in my life. i cant lose you sole, anything but you.” and without another word, he’d hold them in his arms as he ran to get help.

he wasn’t about to repeat the events that occurred at quincy and sole wasn’t gonna be another person he couldn’t save because of his careless actions. sole was the last person he wants to let go and there’s nothing that will stop him from ensuring their safety. he would fall back into his depression during soles recovery, knowing he was responsible for what happened to them and would find it absolutely difficult to ever forgive himself. even with sole reassuring him constantly that it was okay, he’d still deny it and cry as sole held him in their arms. just like deacon and danse, it would take nearly forever for preston to let go of what happened and it would eat him up inside and out every second of the day. it would take a lot of reassurance and self trust for him to understand that there was nothing they could’ve done.

Sturges:

he’s absolutely paralyzed, the gun falling out of his fingers unconsciously as he gazed at sole who desperately called out his name. sturges stared at his hands that were painted with that gut churning red and felt himself grow dizzy, hearing nothing but static fill his ears. he was so used to seeing that black/brown fluid paint his gloves that this contrast of red and black made him feel sick. this is why he didn’t step outside the comfort of his home and why he utterly refuses to hold a weapon. soles voice would break his train of thought and he’d immediately rush over to them, realizing that sole was on an unknown time limit. seeing their face so pale and lifeless scared the absolute shit out of him, and knew that there was nothing he could do at that moment to ease their pain. sturges grabbed their bag, searching for anything and everything that could possibly help them, eventually bringing out a stimpack and jammed it into their arm. when sole let out a pained whimper, he turned to face them and held their hand gently, his voice shaky as he spoke, “i’m here, sweetheart. i ain’t going no where.” he continued searching their bag and his eyes fell on the flare that was given to them when they had gotten recruited. that’s right, sanctuary wasn’t very far off from where they were, somebody was bound to see it one way or the other. quickly, he loaded it up and pointed it upwards, pulling the trigger.

once the bright flash appeared in the sky, he crawled over to sole and propped their head on his lap as he held them close. “helps comin’, sweetheart.” he whispered into their hair, “just hold on.” after those events he conspired and sole was given proper treatment and care, he’d be unable to focus on his tasks, his mind retreating back to those horrid memories he yearned to forget. he’d become more quiet and more inconsistent with his duties as the thoughts began to stick with him more. even the sight of a weapon would trigger him, immediately paralyzing sturges as the memories began flooding back. eventually, sole would have to confront him about what had happened to truly ease his mind off the tragedy, giving him some sense of comfort that whatever had happened was out of his control.

Gage:

one moment, he was shooting down gunners left and right and now, he was on his two feet, about to do the same with the only person who’s ever given a fuck about him. he should’ve killed the fucking bastard who shot that syringe at him- gut him clean with his knife and hang him up for display. none of that mattered now, the man was long gone and dead. the only thing that did though was sole. quickly, his hands traveled throughout their body where he could spot the visible injuries and pressed against them, as if it would halt any of the bleeding. “boss, can ya’ hear me?” he felt the fear surge through him the moment they remained unresponsive, eyes closed despite his small taps on their cheek. “fuck,” he breathed, “wake the fuck up.” his voice became more desperate as he attempted to shake them awake, but when sole showed no signs of opening their eyes anytime soon, his heart dropped. “don’t think you get to fuckin’ die on me. not now.” his voice was full of anger- not at sole, but at himself - as he carried sole in his arms to bring them to the nearest infirmary he could find. ‘not ever’, he thought, going as fast as his legs could take him, ignoring the growing pain in his limbs as he did so.

the infirmary he brought sole to informed him that they were not able to take them in due to the rooms being occupied and he pointed his gun at every single one of them, an angry expression painting his face. “now, if ya don’t take them in, i’ll be sure to take care each and every one of ya,” every worker in the building swallowed nervously, raising their hands in surrender, “i don’t make any empty threats, so get goin’ or things are gonna get dirty.” the doctors swallowed nervously, nodding in agreement as they hesitently took sole from his arms. once sole was treated and given time to recover, he’d properly confront them after days of thinking to himself. gage would give a proper and heartfelt apology, guilt wading in his eyes as he spoke. if sole tried to do anything that was against the doctors orders, he’d snap at them, annoyed at their stubbornness, “dang it boss, lay the fuck down.” he’d spit, eventually letting out a sigh as he turned his back at them, “i fuckin’ got it. just say the word and i’ll do it.” he’d feel himself flush, embarrassed at his temper as sole remained quiet, “i just,” he choked on his words, “i want ya to get better. i’m the reason why yer hurt and shit, so let me do this. please.”

[vi-maxwell-blog]

Hjerte: This only happens to me

By Duo V.P.V.M.

Chapter 3

The description of his emotional state at the time could not be summed up as simple anger. No, it was definitely worse, he was Jealous, he was fuming and there was no doubt that he would dismember Roger Davies as soon as he saw him again. So much was his anger that he did not hear that someone was calling him.

He climbed the spiral staircase to the astronomy tower as fast as he could. It wasn't until a Tripping spell hit him, knocking him against the steps, that he realized he was being followed.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Weasley!" The dark-haired man yelled furiously.

"I've been yelling at you since the Great Hall and you didn't listen to me, so I thought I'd throw something at you, but I only had my … wand," he explained, blushing when he heard how stupid it had sounded.

Seeing the boy's pained blush, Blaise took pity on him and his anger subsided somewhat.

“What were you calling me for?” “I wanted to thank you. With all the hustle I couldn't do it before. Thanks for helping me with the Death Eaters.” “ It Was nothing” “For me it was a lot. You could leave me there, alone, fighting for my life and no one would have said anything. One more Weasley or one less Weasley doesn't make much of a difference."

Blaise Zabini for the first time in a long time was shocked. He was used to the arrogance of the Slytherins, their thousand masks to avoid showing his weaknesses. That someone openly accepted the insignificance of their existence was something new. And disturbing.

"I couldn't leave you lying there," he replied coldly, seeing how his sapphire gaze darkened slightly.

For a second that was it. Ronald had thanked him and that's it. He could go on with his life, without thinking about it anymore, but a part of him that sounded a lot like his mother asked the same question over and over again. That's all?

As obsessed as he was with the redhead and was that all?

No, he was a Slytherin. He was cunning and knew how to take advantage of opportunities. This was the best chance he had in a long time.

Encouraged by his thoughts, the brunette ran after the redhead.

"Weasley!" He yelled. The mentioned turned to face him at the foot of the stairs. “Zabini? Something wrong?” "I saved your life," Blaise snapped. “I know, I thanked you for that. Don't you remember it? Did you hit your head or something? ”Ron agreed, quite confused by the Slytherin's words. “I'm fine, I remember everything clearly, I'm only clarifying one point.” Blaise assured crossing his arms over his chest. “I saved your life, and as a pure-blood wizard that you are, you have a blood debt to me.”

Very proud of himself, Blaise Zabini watched as the redhead's face changed color until it became as red as his hair.

“WHAT!?” Yelled the lion “You, damn snake! You're just looking for a way to take advantage of others.” “Exactly my dear weasel. It's called cunning, something lions don't seem to know. Now, redhead, I will tell you the rules that we will follow to pay your debt.” The brunette smiled sideways “During the following months you will spend at least an hour with me. Whether in the gardens or in the library. “Are you crazy? Pay a blood debt with my presence? Is it some way to humiliate me?”

At the boy's words, the brunette's smile widened.

“Clearly you know that it will not be everything, but in general yes, with that you will pay the blood debt.” “Well then, do you need anything else, your Highness, or can I go?” "Just one more thing, Weasley," said Blaise, approaching Ron. "Stay away from Roger Davies. He may have come at the last minute to your aid, but it was I who chased the Death Eaters away first. I don't want you less than a meter from him.”

And without further ado, Blaise Zabini returned to the dungeons pleased with himself.

-D & H-

In the infirmary things were no less confusing and complicated.

Once they were able to enter, Lucius Malfoy took it upon himself to scold his son for recklessness, while Severus Snape held back from cursing him for discovering his loyalty to Bellatrix.

Remus Lupin was singing a song softly as he stroked Harry's hair that was lying on his legs, trying not to let Sirius' frantic movements, spinning like a caged lion, make him dizzy.

“Sirius stops spinning” Begged the youngest “I'm getting dizzy”

“I'm trying to figure out how to get you out of this mess. So leave me alone!” growled the man

“Don't talk to Harry like that! Nothing that happens is his fault, so control yourself Sirius” the wolf scolded him as he felt the minor shrink from the scream of his godfather. “I speak to him as I want. And yes, if he is to blame, he could well have sent the blonde snake far away, but no! He had to accept his help “he said wryly “And now Malfoy believes that it is his property ! “he finished screaming even more exalted than at first.

The aforementioned only closed his eyes tightly trying not to show how much the screams of his godfather affected him.

An angry roar interrupted the ex-Gryffindor's speech, as a blob of silver moved with astonishing speed against Padfood.

“Listen well to what I am going to tell you Black, because I will not repeat it” He said in an audible whisper “If you do not stop saying all that garbage that is hurting my Hjerte, I will cut your tongue into pieces and make you eat it like dog´s food”

The little blond went to the table where Harry and Remus were, who gave him his place so that this time it was the Slytherin who stroked the jet black hair.

“I think Sirius, you should pay attention to young Malfoy” Said the wolf with a little smile when he saw the adorable image that his cub and the little snake projected. “Lupin is right, be careful what you do Black, my son when he was little was already possessive of his belongings before receiving his inheritance. He has never liked others to mistreat what he considers his and at this moment, like it or not, Potter is his and he will not accept seeing the boy sad or dejected because of you.” Explained the older blonde.

Sirius noticed for the first time, since they had entered the infirmary, his pup. The boy looked like a kitten as Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair.

He knew he was being overprotective, but it was his pup, the only thing he had left of James and to suddenly find out that he practically already belonged to someone else was a real shock . He slowly approached where his godson was under the watchful eye of the blond Veela.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I just… I'm a bit stunned and I didn't want to yell at you, will you forgive me?" asked the last of the Blacks.

The green-eyed man opened his eyes, at the words of his godfather, smiling.

“Of course Paddy, you know i do” “Thank you little one, I promise not to yell again” Sirius said, still feeling guilty for the outburst of him. "Otherwise I'll make you pay," Draco interrupted, looking at him straight in the eye as if he wanted to make him disappear. “Don't bother him Malfoy” the green-eyed chided him "I believe, Potter, that I have every right to worry, and if Black, or anyone else hurts you, I have every right to take revenge." The blond's haughty look prevented him from pleading anything. He was sure that no matter what he said, the other would not stop thinking that he was right. "It is better to inform Albus of this, we will need his help" Remus proposed, smiling conciliatory to those present.

Before anyone could even reply about what the Lycanthrope had said, the infirmary door opened giving way to a couple of orange and brown blots, followed by the old wizard who was Albus Dumbledore.

"I'm sorry for the interruption, but I came across this pair walking around outside the infirmary and it seemed to me that they would have a syncope if I didn't let them in," the director explained with a calm smile on his face.

The two indicated blobs were on top of the stretcher where Harry had been moments before, hugging him and checking that he was alright, not to mention that they had, in some way not understandable to the rest, thrown out of his place the arrogant Slytherin, who now had his aristocratic ass rested on the cold floor of the infirmary.

Holding back a smile thanks to his well-rehearsed mask of coldness, the eldest of the Malfoys spoke “I suppose that you are aware of all the minor details of the current situation, No headmaster?” “You assume well my dear Lucius, but not for the reasons you think. I hoped I could do things in the right way, unfortunately seeing the current situation I will have to do without the normally agreed presentations” With a wave of his hand the door of the infirmary opened again and a man entered through it “Now that we are all here, it will be better to make sure that the walls do not listen ”The old man joked, who with another gesture of his hand applied a silencing spell to the place.

Everyone present stared at the stranger, all but one blond boy who was elegantly shaking his pants while keeping his silver gaze on the golden trio.

"First of all I would like to introduce you …" The director stopped his explanation when he heard a growl. "Is there something, Young Malfoy, that you would like to say?" “I really want to hear that interesting explanation that you will give us Headmaster” He let out with sarcasm bordering on rudeness “But it is impossible for me when Granger and Weasley are wrapped around my Hjerte” He said with a deadly serious voice, almost exposing a death sentence. "Your what?" Hermione asked curiously, leaving aside, for a moment, the meticulous inspection of which the brunette's body was imprisoned. “My Hjerte. The one that you are crushing Weasley- He said looking at the ceiling, feeling the killing instinct tempt him.

Ron looked below him, but didn't see what the Slytherin meant. Instead he realized that his best friend had a blue-violet hue due to the suffocation.

“HARRY!” He shouted “I'm sorry brother, I didn't notice” The redhead quickly got off his friend allowing him to regain both air and circulation H”ey Malfoy, I think you are confused, there is nothing of yours here. Your jertere or that thing is not here” Finished the youngest of the Weasleys turning around on himself looking for anything that was there with the appearance of being Malfoy´s.

“Weasley, Weasley. Poor and innocent weasel "He said with a strange smile" My Hjerte… It's Potter, you damn fool! "The blonde snapped. In two strides he was already in front of the green-eyed man and taking him by the waist lift him to the other side of the bed where he hugged him. “Malfoy stop fighting like a little boy, I'm not a toy for you to hug me like that” Harry intervened “And I would appreciate it if you let me go, I can stand perfectly alone” He finished, already a little annoyed.

The aforementioned kept his face impassive as if he had not been scolded and just carefully posed the brunette on the ground.

"Now director, please continue," Harry asked. He sat on the gurney behind him, settling next to the blonde so that the boy slipped his arm around his waist in a subtle way. He didn't move, he supposed it was something necessary considering the blonde's newfound nature, they would talk about it later. “Thanks Harry. As I was saying, I introduce you to the new DCAO teacher, Matteu Beurk” He said pointing to the man next to him. "Aunt Margge's boyfriend," the green-eyed whispered. “I would rather forget that unfortunate incident, I even thought of asking our kind director to obliviate me” The man smiled taking a step forward “I was supposed to get closer to your aunt so I could get to know you more easily, but it was a little more difficult and traumatic than I imagined” A chill ran through his body at the memory.

The brunette believed him. Just imagine falling in love with Aunt Margge … Eww! Better not think about it and remove the mental image. Devils! Too late, he will have nightmares.

"You said that you did it to meet me?" He frowned. "Why would you want to meet me?" “Well, because we're family Harry” said the man showing his gleaming teeth. “Family? But if all my family is dead or in Private Drive” Harry replied “Not all. Let's say that a small part of your family remained distant …” “Distant? Do you mean they knew they were my family and didn't say anything?” The boy asked surprised, “I spent ten years of my life in a cupboard, thinking that my only family didn't love me, that I was alone. Distant? It's some kind of joke?” Rage filled him to such a degree that some tears escaped from his eyes.

Matteu approached slowly, getting at his level and wiped his cheeks “We didn't know you were from our family until a couple of months ago. My mother was kicked out of the Black family for being Squib. With what little she had she managed to leave the islands for Italy, where she met my father Antuan Beurk, a wizard. They kept Mom's identity a secret for reasons I don't understand. A couple of months ago my mother was seriously ill, we all believed that she wouldn't make it, so she decided to reveal her secret to us. After that I did some research and it turned out that she had more family… Much more. My mother had brothers Pollux, Cassiopea and Dorea. The latter was your grandmother, so technically I'm your second uncle.

The youngest looked at him surprised.

Wait a second, he said he had brothers, that meant he had more family!

“Do you have more siblings?” Harry whispered, making the brunette smile. “Yes, two brothers and two sisters, I'm the one in the middle. Austin, the youngest wanted to come with me but her husband is 5 months along and does not give him time to rest between one craving and another” Matteu commented with laughter “My sisters on the contrary asked me to inform you, whether or not you want to, you are spending Christmas with us , either in Italy or here.

Harry's face lit up at the prospect, family Christmas. With the Dursleys, Christmas was about making dinner and hiding in the cupboard waiting for them to go to sleep to steal some food. The Weasleys were great, but it always felt out of place. And with the war looming, the times that Sirius and Remus could be with him were few. Family Christmas sounded amazing.

“I will go only if Sirius and Remus can come” He said calmer “Of course they can come, anyway Mom wants to meet the last Black.” "Didn't you say that your mother had died?" The Lycan asked, confused. “Oh! No. Mom got seriously sick, but it turned out that when I told her that I had found Dorea's grandson she was … she miraculously recovered herself. She is currently destroying what little sanity my father has left, while he decorates the room you will occupy. I must say that this is the fifth time that he has changed the tapestry on the walls” He said with a grimace conveying part of his regret.

He must have been the one who helped change it, the brunette thought with an internal chuckle.

"Well, I already warned you to put a double bed in that room, because where Potter goes I go," Draco intervened. Harry blushed to his ears at the comment, but only managed to slap him on the arm to make him shut up.

Matteu watched them with amusement. Those two were really made for each other, he thought. Now the only thing missing was for the teenagers to realize it, and it had better be soon because if not, he didn't know how they would survive when the whole family arrived; Our family.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4