#but then a quick look at ao3 tells me that something similar with a nearly identical title (lyrics from the same song) already exists!

[dragon-creates]

Five Times Jax and Pomni Share Dreams of Their Past Lives (And One Time Where They Remember)

Read on AO3

1/2/3/4/5/6

Well well well. You've arrived at the dreaded chapter 5. I hope you're ready for what I've got in store for you.😈😈😈😈😈

Also quick trigger warning, Jack does come across one of his old abusers that he mentioned in chapter 2 and had a brief flashback of his childhood. Nothing bad that happened to him is described and is just mentioned but I wanted to give you a heads up. It will start when you see (1) and will end at (2). As always I want to keep everyone safe so if this is something triggering for you than please feel free to skip this fic.

As for the rest of you -especially my homies from discord - .............prepare to suffer.

5. You're Losing Me

It was a pool day, that’s what Caine’s adventure was going to be today, a pool day. Honestly, everyone needed a break from the constant life-threatening shenanigans the AI constantly put them through. Caine had set up some activities for them, with inflatable pool floats, water guns and even refurbishing the water slide with more twists and turns, even making it higher for everyone else to enjoy when they slid down. The circus members seemed to be having fun, with Zooble lounging on the pool float, Ragatha was encouraging Gangle to come in the water and Kinger…well, he seemed to be well acquainted with absentmindedly shooting water from the water gun everywhere.

Jax had decided to sit by the edge of the pool, his eyes were on Pomni the whole time while he stood idly by. He was hovering, he knew that, but he had his promise to keep. Be there for Pomni, keep her safe, that’s what matters. She seemed to be doing okay, opting to walk around the edge of the pool while watching everyone else relax. He froze when she caught him starting, but the tension released when she gave him a small wave, with him returning it with his own.

Currently Pomni’s head was swarmed. The memory of her falling asleep on Jax’s shoulder earlier this morning made her cheeks burn red. When she had woken up, she repeated a mantra of apologies to him, only for the rabbit to laugh and to tell her not to worry about it. She liked him, she really liked him. But the other half of her mind was still thinking about those dreams. They couldn’t just be happening for no reason. Why was this happening to her? What purpose did they serve in a place that didn’t allow dreaming? Wait, what if this was something similar that happened to Queenie? If she thought too much about the real world, would she start to go insane? Would she abstract if she kept dreaming?! But she didn’t want to let go of those dreams, they were the only thing keeping her feet to the ground. But what if it didn’t last? Queenie was searching for a way to escape, only for Kinger to lose her. Pomni was still searching for a way out, would she abstract if she kept trying? Would dreaming inch her closer to that?!

Jax immediately stood up the minute he saw Pomni deteriorating, ready to help her from spiralling into a full-blown panic attack. He had nearly reached her, until Caine and Bubble floated right up close to his face, making him stumble back a bit. “Ah Jax, there you are!” he boomed, “Just the rabbit I was looking for!”

Jack scowled at him, “You’re gonna have to look for me another time Caine, I’m busy.”

“Now, now! No need to be like that!” Caine put his hands on his hips, “All I need is a simple favour-”

“No,” Jax spat, trying to shove past the AI, “Move it dentures.”

He was stopped by a rough grab to his shoulders. He looked up to see Caine glaring down at him, Jax forced himself to repress a shudder. “Jax, as a member of this circus, you have a duty to obey your ringmaster,” Caine said, “After all, I let you off easy with your little white lie about Bubble in the carnival.” Jax gulped, he found out! “However! I am fair! And I’ll give you the chance to make up for it!”

Jax sighed, going along with Caine was the best option right now without things escalating. “Fine dentures, what do you need me to do?”

“I’m glad you asked!” the AI bellowed, “We have a couple of gloinks still loitering about inside, the last thing we need is for them to come out and ruin anyone else’s fun. We need a scheming mind like yours to come up with a plan to lure them away!”

“That’s all?” Jax asked, “I’ll be able to come right back outside after that?”

“My dear Jax, you will have the rest of the day to have fun after this one teeny tiny favour!” Caine bellowed, patting the rabbit’s shoulder. Jax shoved it off.

“Fine,” he huffed, turning away back to the tent. Pomni will be okay, I’ll be as quick as I can and get back to her. It’s gonna be fine. She’ll be fine.

Caine watched as Jax went back into the tent before floating back up into the air to observe the rest of the circus member’s fun.

Pomni managed to calm herself down a little bit. She wondered why Jax wasn’t there to help, usually he would be by her side to help her. Come on Pomni, that’s not fair for you to put all that pressure on him. Jax needs a break as well, stop being so selfish. She walked a bit to the edge of the deeper end of the pool, wanting to be away from the rest of the group to think by herself for a while.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a purple butterfly flying towards her. Her gaped a little bit, she hadn’t seen any bugs yet in this digital world, it was beautiful. The butterfly landed on the centre of her face, where her nose would be, making Pomni giggle as she went cross eyed to look at it. The sudden movement of her laughter made the butterfly fly off and onto the ground next to her. “Look at you,” she breathed, reaching her hand out towards it, “I haven’t seen anything like you here.”

The butterfly came forward a bit, examining the appendage in front of it. It was about to land on her hand, but the moment she and the bug made contact, the butterfly glitched and clipped into the ground. Pomni let out a frightened yelp, backing away quickly. Unfortunately, her foot slipped on a wet patch, making her trip, hit her head on the edge of the pool before blacking out when she landed in the water.

No one heard her…

No one saw her…

Apart from Caine…

Jax groaned as he walked back outside, his hand rubbing his lower back. Who knew dealing with a bunch of gloinks could be such a pain?! Maybe this was payback for not helping Zooble and shoving Gangle and Kinger into the gloink hole…who was he kidding, of course it was. It didn’t matter now, all he had to do was get back to Pomni.

Only, she was gone from the spot she was at. He scanned the area, hoping she was with someone else, whether it was resting with Zooble on another float or swimming with Ragatha, heck even spraying Kinger with a spare water gun! But the jester was nowhere in sight.

He began to panic, no one ever disappears…apart from abstraction. He felt his heart become lodged in his throat at the thought of Pomni abstracting. She could! She can’t! He can’t lose her! He ran up to the other members in the pool, “Has anyone seen Pomni?!”

Zooble sat up on their float while Ragatha and Gangle swam to the edge, Kinger had also put down his water gun and walked up to see what was going on. Jax’s stomach sank when everyone shook their heads.

“She was just here a minute ago,” Gangle said, “I don’t think she’d gone far.”

“We’ll help you look for her,” Ragatha got out of the pool, going up to Jax and placing a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

“Yeah,” Zooble appeared next to them, “The girl’s a weirdo, but then again so are we. We gotta stick together right?”

“She made a flag for Queenie,” Kinger murmured, remembering the joy gifted to him in the form of Pomni’s generous present. “We can’t leave a good soul like that stranded.”

Jax let out a shaky breath. No one was mad, no one was upset. They wanted to help him…they wanted to help him, that was new. “Okay,” the rabbit nodded, “Does anyone have any idea of where she could have gone?”

Before anyone could answer, Caine came up behind them, making them jump. “Oh, she’s currently in the pool right now!” he told them cheerfully, “Although, she didn’t appear to be conscious in any way shape or form.”

Jax felt a piece of him shatter as he slowly turned to Caine. “You saw her in the water while unconscious. And you didn’t do anything,” he whispered, dangerously.

“Caine!” Ragatha cried, “Why didn’t you tell us when that happened?! She’s in serious danger!”

“Nobody can die or have any serious harm in the amazing digital circus!” Caine grinned, “Do you have a few loose stitches for you to forget Ragatha?”

“That doesn’t mean she can’t still feel pain!” Gangle whimpered.

“Seriously Caine!” Zooble shouted at him, “What the f;;;;ck is wrong with you?!”

“I am merely stating the rules for this world!” he informed them.

Jax had blocked everyone out, their voices becoming muffled as he started at the pool. She’s in the water she’s in the water she’s in the water she’s in the water she’s in the water she’s in the water-

But then it all caught up to me, I was taking a bath and I just…passed out, there and then.

Without wasting a second, he ran up to the deep end, ignoring everyone calling out to him as he dove in. His vision was blurred from the water, but he was able to see Pomni’s small red and blue form sinking to the bottom. He padded quicker, racing against time as he neared closer and closer. He had to make it, he promised he would protect her, he promised! Once he reached her, he scooped his arms under her shoulders, pulling her as he swam back up to the surface until they finally reached the air. Jax carried her over to the edge, setting her down before putting her on her side, hoping that he was able to get some oxygen into her.

When she didn’t respond, he put her on her back again, opening her mouth before pressing his lips onto hers and blowing air into her mouth. It was after a few puffs when Pomni spluttered and choked, Jax put her back on her side again, rubbing her back as she coughed out as much water as possible. When there seemed to be no more water left, she tiredly lifted her head to face the rabbit. “Jax?” she mumbled out.

“I-I’m so sorry Pomni,” he said.

Before she could ask him what he meant, the rest of the circus members ran up to her, with Ragatha wrapping a towel around Pomni’s shoulders. The jester was starting to shake from the chill and the sudden event catching up to her.

“Oh Pomni,” the ragdoll wept, “Are you okay?”

Pomni didn’t say a word, only staring at the ground as shock filled her from head to toe. Everyone began to crowd round her, with Jax backing up to give them more room. He didn’t deserve to be near her right now.

“Wow Pomni!” Caine beamed as he floated over, “This was your first time experiencing digital drowning! What an accomplishment!”

Pomni didn’t react, still shaking with terror swarming in her eyes.

“Caine,” Ragatha looked up at the AI as she spoke slowly, “I’m going to take Pomni inside to help her dry off.”

“What?!” Caine howled, “But our pool day hasn’t finished yet!”

“She nearly drowned dipsh)))t!” Zooble growled at him, “I don’t care if it wasn’t real! You could have helped her!”

Pomni let out a whimper, Ragatha wrapped her arms round her tighter. “I’m taking her inside. Zooble, do you mind doing damage control?”

“By all means, go ahead rags,” Zooble said, still glaring at Caine, “I’ve got it from here.”

Ragatha nodded, she and Gangle led Pomni inside while Zooble continued to chew Caine’s metaphorical ear off.

Jax stayed glued to his spot. He shouldn’t have gone inside, he should’ve stood up to Caine. He managed to do it before, why didn’t he do it now? He was a coward, just a dumb coward who got others hurt. Because of him, Pomni got hurt and he could’ve been there to prevent it!

“Jax?” Kinger went up to the rabbit, placing a hand on his arm, “Are you alright?”

Jax turned to the chess piece, his pupils had become slits and his eyes were wide from the scare he had with Pomni. “I broke my promise.”

“What?” Kinger tilted your head.

“I promised to protect her,” he murmured, “I broke it.”

“Jax, you saved Pomni!” Kinger said, squeezing his arm, “You dove in after her the minute you found out something was wrong!”

“I should’ve been there!” Jax’s voice broke, ripping his arm free. “I should have been there like I promised, otherwise she would…she wouldn’t have…”

“But she didn’t,” Kinger told him, “Because of you.”

“Stop speaking to me as if you know me!” Jax screamed, “You’re nothing but an insect-obsessed, stupid piece of wood who can barely remember his name!” Jax felt a pit form in the bottom of his heart. He hadn’t lashed out like that since he got there. It was Kinger’s crestfallen expression that really got to him though.

“I-I understand,” Kinger whispered meekly, “I’ll leave you be Jax, just so you can clear your head.”

Jax wanted to go after Kinger when he walked away but stopped himself. He didn’t earn to ask for Kinger’s forgiveness, people like him don’t deserve forgiveness. Not from Kinger, not from anyone, and not from Pomni.

He turned and went back inside. He trailed his feet up to his room, before stopping outside of Pomni’s. He could hear Ragatha inside, speaking nothing but comforts to Pomni. Jax found himself being jealous, wishing it were him who was taking care of her. But he broke his promise, how could he possibly take care of Pomni if he was reckless enough to break his promise to her?

He went into his room to change into his pyjamas and gathered a few blankets and pillows, he didn’t warrant to sleep in a comfy room after what he did. Maybe he could make a small space on the stage for him to sleep on? He didn’t care.

He spared one more glance at Pomni’s door, before turning and heading downstairs.

The lights were out, everyone else was probably heading to bed as well. On the stage and behind the curtains, he made his little bed bundle before settling down. It wasn’t the best bed in the world – it was terrible – but this is what he deserved. The look on Pomni’s face, so scared and vulnerable. He was supposed to make sure that she never had that face. A few tears leaked, he turned his face to muffle his sobs into his pillow before the exhaustion hit and he cried himself to sleep. Pomni’s face still burned in the back of his mind.

Meanwhile, Pomni shuffled under the blankets after Ragatha tucked her in, the shock wearing off. “Caine saw me,” she said, “And he didn’t even help me.”

“Caine’s mind works a little differently here. He doesn’t really understand humans,” Ragatha explained, “But he shouldn’t have done that to you. You’re lucky Jax got to you.”

“Jax!” Pomni jolted up at the sound of his name, “Where is he?!”

“Easy Pomni,” Ragatha laid her back down, “Jax had a…peculiar reaction when Caine said you were in the water. I think it’s best if we leave him be right now.”

“You don’t understand,” Pomni tried to sit up again, “I need to see him.”

“What you need is rest after what happened,” Ragatha tried to reason with the stubborn jester. “Please Pomni, try and get some rest. You can see him in the morning.”

Pomni sighed, she knew she couldn’t win against the protective ragdoll. “Ok, goodnight Ragatha.”

“Night Pomni,” The ragdoll smiled before going over to the door and shutting it behind her.

Pomni buried herself under the blankets. She could still remember the feeling of being under water, unable to wake up and feeling the burn of her lungs constricting, begging for air. She might not be able to drown, but she could still feel the fear of being unable to wake up and breathe. Then Jax was there, she could sense him the moment she felt his touch as he pulled her out of the water, she never felt safer than she did whenever she was with him. Even despite her unconscious state, somehow, she knew it was him.

She wanted him here, to thank him for saving her, for him to hold her as he soothed her from what happened, to make sure that she felt safe while falling asleep. A few tears fell, she wanted Jax.

She rubbed her eyes, she just needed to rest.

But even as she twisted and turned, even as she felt herself drifting off, she still found herself craving Jax’s presence.

.

.

.

Jack was engaged! He was the luckiest and happiest man in the world!

He was currently waiting in line at the coffee shop across the street. He wanted to pick up some of Penny’s favourite sweets and hot drink order. His fiancé – he still couldn’t believe he gets to use that word now – had just been hired to stay at the Lionheart Assembly Theatre to create costumes for more of their upcoming shows, and not only that, but had other theatre companies trying to reach out to her! He wanted to spoil her with all her favourite treats this evening, he wanted to spoil her every day but unfortunately their schedules didn’t allow that.

He opened up his phone to text Penny, admiring his new lock screen with the photo of him and Penny with the cheesiest grins as they squished their cheeks together while he held up her hand with her engagement ring. He was so locked onto that photo of them that he didn’t notice someone crashing into him, making him drop his phone. “Shit!” he reached down for his phone while trying to answer the person he bumped into, “Are you okay-”

(1)

“Well, well. Jack Bloom, in the flesh! It’s been a long time,” a familiar voice drawled out. A voice that made Jack’s blood freeze as the memories of his old foster family came rushing back to him. Particularly the ones with an older boy sneering down at him, ready to hurt him in any way he could.

But then there was their kid, Luke. He was a few years older than me, but he made sure me made my life hell. He’d beat me, spit on me, say things that still won’t leave me head till this day.

“Luke,” he stood and lifted his gaze to the man in front of him. Luke was a pale and measly person with sandy blonde hair and sickening green eyes.

“Look at you,” the blonde sneered, “Little Jack, all grown up! I gotta say, you look good.”

“Excuse me if I don’t give a shit about what you say,” Jack retorted with a glare.

“Ouch! Easy there!” Luke cackled, “I was just giving you a compliment! God, you were always so easy to rile up!”

Rile up? That’s how he saw his years of tormenting Jack? Riling him up? “If you’re just gonna be here to be a dick Luke then I’m heading out.”

“Woah, no need to be so sensitive,” Luke grinned, it sent a chill up Jack’s spine. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your recent engagement.”

Jack blanched, “How do you know about that?”

“I like keeping tabs on my old pals,” Luke said casually, as though he didn’t reveal that he had been stalking Jack online. “I found your twitter account a few months ago and saw what you’ve been up to. I see your C&A’s new shiny toy, not only that, but I also got a good look at your girl. Penny right? She is a pretty girl.”

Jack’s fists tightened, the way that Luke said that. It made him want to drag him out of this café by the hair. “You better watch yourself.”

“I’ve gotta watch myself?” Luke placed a hand to his chest, “I’m not the one who’s psychologically damaged.”

“I wonder whose fault that is,” Jack growled lowly.

“All I’m saying is that I’m glad you found someone who can tolerate you,” Luke shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve seen that fucked up head of yours, do you really think you’re good enough for her? I took one look at her and I can already tell that she’s not the type of girl that’s gonna last long around you.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Jack.

“But I do, I’ve seen just how fucked up you are to know how this is gonna go,” the blonde smirked. “I can see it now! Poor Jack, unable to keep his job! No matter how much he tries, he can never forget the scars of his past. Soon, he gets fired for being a stupid piece of shit, runs back to his apartment, looking for some support from his loving wife! Only to find out that she’s leaving him because she finally realised that he’s too broken for her and can’t stand another minute around him before he takes her down with him!”

“That’s enough,” Jack told him, “People will hear you.”

“Please,” Luke scoffed, “Even if they do I can be able to turn this situation around and make you look like the perpetrator. Do you really think someone as good as her is right for someone like you? You’re nothing but damage Jack, damage that is eventually gonna affect her as well.”

“Stop it,” Jack spat.

“You’ll break her,” Luke wasn’t finished. “That little heart and spirit of hers will break the longer she’s with you, she’ll find out just how emotionally draining you are, just how much of an asshole you can be. Do you really wanna chance that with her? Might as well just let her go before that happens. It’ll save you both time.”

“I’m getting the help I need!” Jack retorted, “I’m in therapy to heal because of what you and your parents put me through! I would never put all that on Penny!”

Luke huffed, “Please, you really think a shrink is gonna undo your whole mess. You’re nothing but a ticking bomb Jack, a ticking bomb who’ll take everyone he loves down with him. Including your sweet little Penny.”

“Luke please,” Jack’s voice was barely a whisper, “Stop.”

Luke grinned, his work here was done. “Congratulations again Jack.”

Jack watched as the measly blonde walked out the coffee shop. He looked at his phone to check the time, only to find out that it had cracked when he dropped it, each fracture scarring the pixeled photo of him and Penny.

Why did Luke have to be here? He was fine with his life! He was finally happy, why did he have to be in the same shop as Jack at the exact time he was there?!

All of a sudden, he was a freshman in high school again, fearing to return back to his foster home and what type of cruelty awaited him there.

Worthless!

Disgusting!

Get out of my face boy!

You little bastard!

Aw little brat is gonna cry!

What have I told you about crying?!

You caused this pain yourself!

You have only yourself to blame!

You were born to take a beating Ja-!

(2)

“-ck Bloom?” a voice pulled him out from his storming mind, “I have an order for Jack Bloom?”

He turned to the counter, his order was ready. He pressed his forefinger and thumb to the bridge on his nose, pinching and rubbing it to help ease the forming headache he was about to have. “That’s me,” he said, going up and taking the paper bags and coffee cups from the cashier, “Thanks.”

He made sure to leave a tip before walking out the door.

Jack let out a sigh when he eventually walked into the apartment, dumping his bag on the ground and going into the kitchen to place his and Penny’s sweets and coffee on the countertop. He could hear her turn the sewing machine off in her work room, opening up the door and bounding over to him. “Hey!” she beamed, as he heartily accepted her welcoming hug and kiss, “What’s all this you got?” She gestured to the assortment of hot drinks and snacks.

“Oh you know,” Jack hummed against her lips as they leant in for another kiss, “Just something to celebrate my beautiful fiancé getting hired.”

“Well aren’t you just a gentleman,” she suddenly noticed the tensity in his shoulders and the forced smile he was giving her. Something was off, “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” he didn’t want her to know what happened in the coffee shop earlier. Luke wasn’t worth bringing up, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, rubbing her thumbs underneath his tired eyes, “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know,” he nodded, bringing her in closer, “I’m always good whenever you’re here.”

She sighed, pressing her forehead against his, “Okay, just tell me if there’s anything going on if there is.”

“I will,” he meant it. He’ll bring Luke up to her…eventually. He just didn’t want to put any more on her plate right now. Penny didn’t deserve that. “Now, how about we ruin our diets and have dessert for dinner?”

Penny giggled, “I like the sound of that.” She would get back to him on that. He didn’t want to take about what was bothering him right now, but that was fine. She decided to give her the breathing space he needed so he could talk to her about it. That was what they always did, just give each other a moment to bring up the problem and they would solve it together. That was what Jack needed right now, and she would help him with it when he’s ready to tell her.

Jack felt a bit of relief when her mind was taken of the subject. Another part of him felt guilty for not telling her, he would, just not now. He just wanted to spend the rest of his evening with fiancé and forget about Luke.

He could forget about Luke…right?

.

.

.

Luke was still fresh on his mind when Jack came into work the next week. He hated it, he hated Luke, he hated how worthless he made him feel, he hated that he came back into his life when Jack was finally happy! But most all, he hated how he kept thinking about what Luke said about Penny. More so what he said about how Jack would treat Penny later on in the marriage.

What if he made her feel like she had to carry his burdens? What if he couldn’t be the husband that she deserved? What if he really wasn’t good enough for her and break her heart? Like how David broke Amber’s?

No, this was just Luke in his head, he’s nothing like what he described. But what if he was? Was he really just a hopeless case that was meant to stay broken? Maybe he was just a ticking bomb getting ready to explode. No, you’ve come so far since you moved out of that place! Think of Penny! Don’t backtrack now because of Luke!

He stared to walk faster down the hall with the files in his arms, so caught up in his head that he didn’t notice bumping into someone, sending the papers flying.

Jack cursed, gathering his files back into a pile while the other person helped him, “Sorry about that, had a train of thought going off the rails there.”

“Eh, no worries,” a young male voice said, holding out a hand to help Jack to his feet, “It happens to the best of us.”

When Jack stood up and got his bearings straight, it was then when he finally noticed those to whom he was talking. “Oh my god!” he gasped, “You’re Samual Abel!”

“Yup, that’s me,” he smiled shyly. He was quite small and skinny, with ivory skin, brown eyes and dusty brown hair. He seemed to be at least 18 years old, which meant it had to be 9 years since…oh god, he was 9 when his parents went missing.

“I’m really sorry again,” Jack apologised, rubbing his neck nervously. How does someone talk to the kid of the parents who went missing from this company?

“Hey, it’s fine. No one got hurt,” he reassured him, before his eyes glanced down at a file he picked up for Jack. “Oh, I remember this game.”

Jack peeked over at what the boy was referring to, “Oh yeah, ‘The Amazing Digital Circus.’ That was the first game created at C&A.”

“That’s right!” Samual’s face brightened, unable to stop the flow of words coming out of his mouth. “My mom and dad started this as a kick-starter to help pay for bills and school, but he also made this for me. I was only 4 so I didn’t know that much about video games, all I knew was that I loved the world that my parents created just for me. Soon, it blew up for both kids and adults and that’s how we got the C&A we know today. You know, they were actually gonna remake this game.”

“Really?” Jack raised a brow, he never heard about that before.

“Yeah,” Samual nodded. “Jason suggested to my dad that it would sell more to audiences if we remade a well-known game. So, one day came my parents went into C&A and got to work…then the next week they disappeared.”

Jack gulped as he watched the light in the boy’s eyes fade a bit, “I didn’t mean to bring up old memories-”

“-Oh no! You didn’t! That was just me getting lost in my head,” Samual said, “You get what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Jack sighed, nodding. He could understand that perfectly, “I’m really sorry about your parents.”

Samual looked up, “Oh it’s fine! But thank you, really. Not everyone talks about my parents round here a lot anymore, so its kinda nice just getting to speak about them sometimes. It just feels like everyone here is so keen to forget them.”

“Seriously?” Jack gaped as Samual handed the rest of his papers back to him. He could understand if the boy had lost them recently, but years after? It’s not too much to ask to talk about your parents in the company that was essentially the only thing Samual had left of them. Even then, they were still the founders here. Why wouldn’t anyone want to talk about them?

“Seriously,” Samual repeated, his face matching’s Jack’s concerned expression.

“Ah! Sammy!” Jason’s voice boomed as he walked over to the two, with Samual flinching at the sudden noise. The older man patted the younger boy’s shoulder, “I see you’ve gotten acquainted with our newest employee!”

“Jason!” Samual replied, slightly exasperated, “You know you can just call me Sam or Samual.”

“We’re practically family Sammy, families give each other nicknames,” Jason turned to Jack. “I’ve been helping his aunt and uncle with raising this little tyke, been taking care of him for the last 9 years! I’m getting him ready to take over this place one day!”

Jack noticed Samual fidgeting anxiously with the sleeves of his hoodie at those words, he couldn’t blame him. Taking over the company of one of the greatest game developers of all time – who also just so happened to be his missing parents – who wouldn’t have anxiety over that?

“Ah!” Jason noticed one of the files on Jack’s hands, “’The Amazing Digital Circus,’ now that’s a game I haven’t heard in a while.”

“We were mostly talking about it was originally going to have a remake,” Samual said, Jack nodded in agreement.

“Those were the good old days, before…” Jason trailed off, his face darkening for a moment before it completely shifted back into his cheerful expression. “But enough about the past, right now we need to talk about the future. Well, specifically, your future Jack.”

Jack was taken aback, “Me?”

“That’s right,” Jason grinned, “You’ve got VR equipment at home, don’t you?”

“Yes sir, that’s right,” Jack confirmed.

“Perfect,” the older man took his hand off Samual’s shoulder and placed it onto Jack’s. “Our LA branch has a team working on a new VR game, so I need you to brush up on your skills because they saw your game development and have asked me to promote you to lead game designer in that branch!”

“VR?” Samual paled, “A new VR game?”

Jason turned slowly to Samual, “Of course! Jack has proven to be one of our most qualified employees for the past few months he’s worked here, he’s more than capable of helping with the game design.”

“Yeah but-”

“-and it’s not the first time we’ve created a successful VR game,” Jason continued until he noticed the subtle change in the young boy’s demeanour. “Are you alright Sammy? You don’t look well.”

“It’s just…” Samual paused, looking to Jason and then to Jack. The boy held his gaze for a moment, Jack noticed a flicker in his eyes. Something laced with fear and another emotion he couldn’t put his finger on. Samual sighed and gave the two a tired smile, “Nothing, congratulations of the job offer Jack.” He walked away, his shoulders low and his footsteps small.

Jack finally registered in his head what Jason had just offered to him. He couldn’t believe it! He got a once in a lifetime offer! “You’re kidding!” he exclaimed.

“Nothing of the sort,” Jason chuckled, “Think of the game you’re developing right now as a test run, you’ll be working with the big dogs soon so this is gonna be bigger than anything you’ve ever imagined. We’ll make sure that you’ll be able to work on your game while leading theirs at the same time, after all, yours seems like its going to be a triumph in the making.”

“I have no words,” Jack let out a breath, “I genuinely have no words, thank you sir!”

“Of course,” Jason grinned as he patted Jack’s shoulder again before wrapping it round both of them. “They’ll be starting development on June 19th, we’ll sort out everything from your plane tickets to your living arrangements-”

“Wait, June 19th?” Jack felt his stomach drop at the mention of that date.

“Yes,” Jason confirmed, “Is everything alright?”

“It’s just…that’s the date of Penny and I’s wedding,” Jack told him, his face falling. “I’m sorry but that’s something I can’t rearrange.” 

Jason sighed as he tightened his grip on the man’s shoulders, “Listen. Jack. I won’t lie, there will be times when this type of work can have an affect on your personal life. But it’s worth it. This is an opportunity you might not be able to get if you turn it down now. This promotion will go to someone else if you don’t take that leap! I don’t want that to happen to you.” He unwrapped his arm and put both his hands on Jack’s shoulders instead. “It’s time to really start thinking about your career Jack. And I’ve heard how you talk about your fiancé, she seems like a sweet girl. If she really loved you like you say she does, she’ll understand. Weddings can be rearranged, this can’t…it’s up to you.”

With that, Jason brought his hands back and walked away, leaving Jack there to ponder alone. He loved this job, he really did. But the answer was obvious for him. Penny. It was always going to be Penny. At least, he would have said that before Luke. Now, there was nothing but a storm within him. He wanted to marry Penny, he wanted to marry Penny more than anything else in the world. But did he really deserve her?

He shouldn’t even be considering this offer right now. There would be more, there would always be more. Especially when he’ll release his own game – the game that Penny inspired him to create. But that temptation to just run, run so far. Far away from the stress of Luke looming over his head, from telling Penny everything that happened that day, away from the fear that he would break her heart because he didn’t want to risk that for her! It would be so much easier.

The thoughts didn’t leave his head even as he tried to fall asleep that night. The blaring red numbers of midnight on his alarm clock was basically screaming at him to go to sleep. But he couldn’t, the storm wouldn’t let him.

He sighed as he watched Penny as she slumbered peacefully. She was on her side, her hair spooled round her face, her chest rising and falling with each breath while fisting her pillow every few seconds. Jack let out a silent laugh, she reminded him of a cat kneading its claws whenever she did that.

He sighed, he loved her so much. All he wanted was for Penny to be happy, no matter how, what – or even who – he would give her that happiness. What if…what if Luke was right? What if he couldn’t be that person for her? Would she eventually realise that he couldn’t give her the pure bliss she craved? Oh god, what if he doomed them from the moment he met her?! No, he couldn’t do that to her, not to Penny. He had to make sure – despite how much he loved her – she would be okay, that she would survive. His heart began to throb with panic. Run, danger, get away, we can’t do this, we just can’t do this! Run, now! This is bad, this is really bad! Get away! You’re just going to hurt her!  Run! Run! Run! Run! RUN!

He gasped, swinging his feet and nearly falling off the bed with dread and cold sweat, creating a distance between him and Penny as though he burned her. He was relieved when she didn’t wake, instead she mumbled incoherently in her sleep.  

He let out a defeated sigh, grabbing his phone and silently padded out of their room, shutting the door behind him and walked into the kitchen. He rested his elbows against the countertop as he swiped his thumb over the cracked cover, going over the contacts in his phone before it landed on Jason’s. Taking a breath, he dialled the number.

It took a while, maybe he should’ve phoned later instead of in the dead of night. But honestly, he wasn’t sure if he could wait.

Finally, Jason picked up. “Jack?” his voice with thick with sleep, “What’s going on? Why are you calling me this late?”

“Hi Mr Wood,” Jack rubbed his hand over his face, making his final decision, even if his stomach churned when he spoke into the phone, “I wanted to talk to you about that job offer.”

.

.

.

Jack sipped the last of his coffee as he packed his bag for work. Last night had been on his mind the whole time, he dreaded telling Penny, especially want she woke up in such a chipper mood this morning, talking about the wedding, it’s venue and how much she couldn’t wait to marry him. He felt ill, he knew this couldn’t wait. Even if he wouldn’t tell her about Luke, this was something she’d find out eventually. It was better to rip the band-aid off now, even if it would sting like hell.

“So, work from home day for you, huh?” Jack said, wanting to start this conversation light.

“Yeah,” Penny grinned, bounding up to him, “Nothing but me and my imagination. And yes, I’ll give you a peak of what I’m making.”

Jack smiled, placing a chaste peck on her lips before she pulled away to prep her own coffee. He didn’t want to do this, he really didn’t want to do this. But he didn’t have much of a choice.

He sighed, placing his empty mug in the sink before turning to his fiancé, “Penny.”

Penny looked up from the coffee machine to meet his eyes, “Yeah?”

“Um, I wanted to tell you something,” he took a deep breath as her sweet chocolate eyes gazed into his. “Yesterday, uh, Jason came up to me with a new offer. He wants to transfer me to the LA branch for a while to be the lead designer for their new VR game.”

“Oh my god!” Penny beamed, wringing her hands excitedly before grabbing him into a hug. For a moment, he pretended that there were no catches, no dates, nothing he would have to say next that would bring everything down. Just him and his fiancé celebrating his promotion together. “That’s amazing! We gotta celebrate tonight! What do you think? Dinner at home or should go out and paint the town…red.” When she pulled away, she caught his crestfallen expression, “Hey, I know it’s long distance but we can make it work. You were there for me during my job crisis, I’ll be there for yours.”

“I-It’s not that,” he mumbled, “It’s the date. Jason wants me to leave on June 19th.”

“Oh,” Penny was taken aback, now that created some issues. “Okay, um. We can figure this out. I mean, what should we do? We’ve already paid for the venue and sent out invites and…”

Jack paled, here came the hard part.

“Jack,” Penny started, “What did you do?”

“Penny I-please understand,” he said, “I, I…I took up the job offer. Please just listen-”

“You took it?! And you knew it was on our wedding day?!” Penny backed away, running her hands through her hair. “You didn’t even talk to me about it! Oh my god, what the fuck Jack!”

“I didn’t have a choice!” He argued back, “I had to take it!”

“You always kept telling me that this was a job that always offered opportunities!” she cried, “I would’ve supported you! We could have figured out something together! But you took the job! And you didn’t even let me know before!”

“I’m not proud of it either,” he told her.

“Oh really?!” she retorted, “Then why would you put this above our wedding?! We were so excited for this, we had so much planned and you just threw it away this moment this landed on your lap!”

Something ugly began to wind itself around Jack, “Well it’s not like this marriage would last long anyways.”

“…what?” Penny exhaled.

“You heard me,” Jack crossed his arms, “This is just a disaster waiting to happen. So why should we even bother with this wedding.”

“Jack, what are you saying?” Penny asked, “Where is this coming from?”

Jack bit his lip, the ugliness wrapped tighter. “Look, both you and I know that I’m fucked up. I’ve been nothing but shit to my family the moment I thought that I was free of my foster family’s grasp. No matter how hard I try, or how hard I think I’m gonna change, I’m nothing but this stupid idiot who just rips the people who care for him apart.”

“But Winter’s family – your family was always there for you. I’m always here for you,” she told him. “And they never let you rip them apart. They always helped you even if you think you’re beyond helping, and because of that you’ve extended that same kindness towards me. You’ve been there for me no matter how low I’d sunk to rock bottom. You always picked me up, always saw how much worth I have and encouraged me to keep going every single time. Whatever this is we can work through it together.” She cupped his face in her hands, “I love you Jack. Please. Let me in.”

He pulled away. “I’m a lost cause Penny,” his voice wavered, “I know that you’ve seen the parts of me that I hate. We can’t keep going like this. You know what I went through! You know how I’ve been hurt! How could you think I could ever come back from going through something like that!”

“Jack you’ve never talked like this before,” she said, “I know the stuff you’ve been through is horrible, I really do! And you might not get rid of the darkness they put in you, but you’ve accepted the light that people have given you because they love you! Because of the you were able to get help and become better than what your foster family put you through! And I might be able to understand all the pain that happened to you but I’m here for you every step of the way!”

She was right, but the ugliness has its claws sunk in deep and refused to let go. “Why do you keep lying to yourself!” he spat, “Why do you believe that we can do this!”

“Because we’re both flawed and fucked up individuals!” she retorted, “But we always kept fighting back because we know that this life is worth fighting for!”

“That’s the part that you don’t get!” he yelled, “I’ll fuck up your life. Your incredible, kind and talented! I’m…I’m just the mess that’s gonna affect you too and you’ll realise it! And to be honest, I wouldn’t marry me either!”

Nothing else was said, a pin would drop and yet nobody would hear it. Jack thought she was finally done until Penny spoke.

“Then say it,” her voice was flat yet still held her determination, “Say you don’t want to marry me.”

Jack was silent, his voice stuck and the claws kept reaching down to grab it.

“Say it,” Penny said, “Say you don’t want to marry me.”

His jaw tightened, the ugliness kept wrapping tighter and tighter, suffocating him, reaching for his voice. He was unable to fight back.

“Say it Jack!” she yelled, “Say you don’t want to marry me!”

“I DON’T WANT TO MARRY YOU!” he screamed.

The ugliness finally uncurled.

Clarity started to fill him again and the sobriety hit him like a freight train.

Oh no.

He fucked up.

Jack really fucked up.

A single tear fell from Penny’s eye as she walked a few steps away from him. Soundlessly going into the living room and sat on the sofa.

He shouldn’t have had this conversation, he shouldn’t have picked up the phone last night, he shouldn’t have taken that job offer. In that moment he wished he could reverse time more than ever. Change it to that he was only going to another day of work, smothering Penny with kisses before leaving to tell his boss that he was refusing the offer. But he couldn’t. the damage was complete.

What had he done?

“Penny,” he walked over to her, trying to place a hand on her shoulder, only for her to flinch away.

She didn’t want to be touched.

“I-” a reminder pinged before he could continue, he had to leave. “Penny I…we’ll talk when I get home, okay?”

She nodded silently, “You should go. I don’t want to hold you up.”

Jack’s stomach twisted as he walked to the door. It was halfway open when he looked back at Penny. He wanted to say something! Anything! I’m sorry, I love you so much Penny! I want to marry you so badly, I want to do that more than anything else in the world! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!

I’m sorry!

I love you!

I want to marry you!

Instead, he left. Shutting the door behind him.

The moment Penny held the door click shut, she allowed herself to cry. She reached into her pocket, fishing out her phone and hastily tried to find Amber’s number, waiting for the dial to finish before she heard her mother’s voice.

“Hello?” Amber spoke from the other side as she heard her daughter’s light sniffles, “Penny, honey, what’s going on?”

“Mom,” Penny’s voice broke, “I really need you right now.”

.

.

.

Jack sunk into his chair the moment he got into his office. He wanted to be home right now, cuddling with Penny and whispering sweet nothings into her ear until everything was okay again. Why, why did he have to let Luke into his head?! Just when he thought he was strong enough to leave him in the past. That was where he belonged, to be nothing but a shadow for Jack to run away from. But that wasn’t how shadows worked, wasn’t it? They always attached to you despite how fast you ran.

There was a knock at the door, with Jason leaning by its edge. “Jack!” he exclaimed, “I gotta tell you, it’s gonna be great having you in LA. You’ve got great things heading your way.

He already lost the greatest thing he had though, “Yeah, thanks.”

“Hey,” Jason spoke, “I know this is a hard decision, but trust me, you made the right choice.”

“Sure,” Jack replied numbly, “I have to get back to work sir.”

Jason nodded, oblivious to his employee’s inner turmoil, “Of course, good job Jack.” He walked away, shutting the door behind him.

Jack slammed his head against his desk. Why did he have to be so stupid?! How the hell was he going to make things right with Penny? He heard his phone ping, it was Winter. The conversation must have gotten back to her, probably Riley too – there was no doubt that Penny’s older sister was planning every single possible way to get away with murdering him. Honestly, he would let her, he deserved it.

He just wanted to disappear right now.

He groaned, picking up the headset her brought he home. Jason wanted him to brush up on his VR skills so it was better to do it now. A few tears formed in his eyes, he really wanted to be with Penny. To make things right, to kiss her, comfort her, love her in every way he could. He rubbed his eyes, making them blurry as he clicked on the file that appeared in front of him on his computer. What did it say? ‘ama…cir’? It didn’t matter, Jason had already given him list on what to do so this must be one of the games he had to go over.  

He let the game start up as he prepared what he needed. His notes, his bottle of water for when he needed a break and the headset.

Once everything was prepared he got to work.

He put the headset on.

.

.

.

“Okay, okay Winter,” Amber nodded on the phone. “Just keep us updated when he calls you back. And make sure Riley doesn’t go on a killing spree just yet. Okay, thanks again hon.” She hung up and put her phone on the countertop before going back to join her daughter on the sofa.

“I just don’t understand,” Penny whimpered, “We’ve never fought like this. I just…I know he’s hurting, but he won’t say anything. I just want to help him.”

“I know baby,” Amber wrapped a blanket around her and pulled her daughter close. “Sometimes people don’t want to be helped. But Jack does, and Winter told me that this isn’t the first time he’s done this. When she gets a hold of him we’re all going to have an intervention with him and his family to get to the bottom of this.”

“He says he doesn’t want to marry me,” Penny sniffed, “What if he’s telling the truth?”

“I haven’t watched that boy tripping over his feet every time he made eye contact with you just for him to say he doesn’t want to marry you,” Amber said, “He loves you so much baby, whatever this is, we’ll find out.”

“This is my fault,” Penny mumbled, “I should’ve seen the signs.”

Amber gripped her daughter’s shoulders. “None of this is your fault. Whatever is going on with that boy, whatever happened to him, is not your doing. Your job is to be there for him, not to fix him. Trust me, you being there was enough for him, and he knows that. When that boy gets back, we’re gonna get him the help he needs. All you need to do is be there for him, okay?”

Penny smiled wetly, “I’ll be there for him as much as he’s been there for me.”

“You already have baby,” Amber pressed a kiss to her head, “You already have.”

Amber’s phone went off again, the woman stood up and went over to answer him, “Hey Winter, any luck?”

“Mrs Reed!” Winter exclaimed into the phone, “It’s Jack, he, he-!”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down honey,” Amber replied soothingly. Penny perked up and went to go over to listen to the conversation. “What happened Winter?”

“It’s-It’s Jack,” Winter panted, “Riley and I are on our way to his work. We tried to call his boss but he said, he said…he said Jack disappeared. He called the police but-I-I don’t-what if-!”

Penny gasped, gaping at Amber as the woman returned with the same look. “O-okay,” Amber stuttered, “Penny and I are on our way just hang tight.”

Amber hung up, “We gotta go.”

Penny didn’t have to be told twice, already grabbing her coat and rushing out with her mother.

The drive felt achingly longer than it should’ve been, but they made it. Penny’s stomach twisted when she saw the police cars outside the C&A building. Winter and Riley had just arrived as well, getting out of their car to meet up with them.

“Did you hear anything else?” Penny asked, going up to the couple.

“No,” Riley shook her head, “All they said was to get here.”

“This better be a false alarm,” Winter snipped, biting back tears, “This better be some cruel joke that Jack is pulling.”

Penny hoped, no, prayed that her sister-in-law was right. That this was some cruel joke and Jack would come running out to her from the building, wrapping her tight in his arms and muttering a mantra of apologies to her. But her the back of her mind knew better.

A police officer walked up to them, “Evening ladies, I know the call was abrupt but I believed it would be better if we met face to face. Especially with you two being from the FBI.” He gestured to Winter and Riley.

“What does this have to do with us being in the FBI?” Riley questioned.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Winter snapped, “Where’s Jack?! Where is my brother?!”

The officer sighed, “That’s what I was getting to. I know that you and your wife have taken on the disappearing cases, right?”

Penny paled, as well as Winter, who became unable to say another word.

“Y-yes,” Riley continued for her, “How does this-?”

“Mr Bloom went into the building this morning, but his employees confirmed that he never came out,” the officer explained. “His office was the last place they saw him. Unfortunately it was described just like the other people that went missing in your case. A switched-on computer with nothing opened, a damaged headset and Mr Bloom being nowhere to be found. I’m really sorry.”

Winter let out a blood-curling cry, sinking to the ground as Riley embraced her, comforting her as best she could.

“Penny,” her mother called out to her, “Talk to me baby.”

Penny stood, frozen with ice-cold shock running through her veins. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. This can’t be happening, this shouldn’t be happening. She slowly faced her mother, her throat closing up as silent tears began to roll down her cheeks. Her mother took the initiative to come forward and envelop her daughter into her arms, running her fingers up and down her back.

“It’s okay honey,” she whispered, rocking Penny soothingly, “It’s gonna be okay.”

But it wasn’t. How could it be? He was gone.

Jack was gone.

.

.

.

Months had gone by.

Winter was nearing the end of her pregnancy, Riley was up dusk till dawn taking care of her wife and working on Jack’s new case at the same time. For the past few months, everyone had tried to look for Jack. Organising search parties, asking online, making missing posters, going to places he would go to, anything! But nothing, it was like he never existed.

Penny took some time off work – with her boss understanding completely - locking herself in her and Jack’s apartment, grieving. Grieving his laughs, his smile, his smell, his touch. Grieving everything.

Amber and Riley had made sure to come by, making sure that Penny was eating and staying healthy. They didn’t want to lose her to. And though she did eat and hydrate, she would spend most of her days in her bed, glued to her mattress, unable to face anyone or anything. Her curtains were shut, her room was a mess, but she was more so. Her hair was tangled, her clothes sweaty and her eyes were red with bags under them from crying every night.

She wasn’t proud of herself.

She knew that she was disgusting, but the loss of Jack weighed harder than the will to get up, their last conversation of them fighting just made it hurt so much more.

Amber would come by the days Riley didn’t, sometimes helping Penny shower and attempt to get her outside, it didn’t work but Penny had made an internal promise to try for her mother to come out one day. Even if it made her sick to think about.

Once a day, she would get up and go to his old computer to see if anyone he worked and collaborated with in the past knew where he was, but to no avail. That was the only time she got up throughout the day.

Penny sat there on her bed, getting up to go to the computer again, a blanket wrapped round her shoulders as she plopped herself onto his old chair and logged onto his computer. She did the usual, trying to find anyone he knew, asking if they knew where he was, get told that they didn’t know and rinse and repeat.

She was about to turn off the computer when a file popped up. It was a simple file with the title ‘The Amazing Digital Circus’ underneath. She clicked on it, the sound of nostalgic 90’s game music flowing through the speakers as the game menu came up. There was a sentence in the corner of the screen.

Attach Headset.

Was this an old game Jack worked on in the past? If so, maybe there were people on this game’s server who knew where he was. She zoomed to Jack’s corner of the room, fishing through the box of his old equipment. Jack always had two pairs of headsets, one for work and one for at home. He took the ‘work one’ with him on the day he disappeared, maybe…yes, the other one was still here! She pulled it out of the box it was laying in before rushing back to the screen, the blanket falling off her shoulders as she sat back down.

Her heart was beating faster than ever, the chance to finally find Jack was finally at her fingertips! She hooked up the headset and clicked play on the game.

Carefully, she placed it on her head and over her eyes.

Her face burned! The headset tightening around her eyes, crushing her head. She tried prying it off, she felt like it was stabbing into her! It wouldn’t come off, it was stuck! A white light blinded her, making her sob out in agony. She wanted to cry out for help! Why wasn’t she crying out for help?!

MAKE IT STOP!

MAKE IT STOP!

MAKE IT STOP!

MAKE IT STOP!

MAKE IT STOP!

……. then there was nothing.

“Caine! Is this one of your NPC’s or is this a new sucker? Cause if it’s a new character, we’re gonna have to redo this whole theme song!”

“What’s going on? I put on some weird headset and now I’m…here. Who are you people? Why can’t I take it off? Where am I?!”

Man! Don't you just hate cliffhangers? 😇

[water9826]

Cursed Guardians (A JJK Fic)

AO3 Link

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There was something truly comforting in a well-made dessert. It was easy to tell that there was clear effort put into the sweet treat. Skill too. Experienced bakers could create the most delicious of  foods with the simplest of ingredients. They can make any dessert look beautiful as well, so beautiful it hurts when you have to take a bite. Candy was not as much of a labor of love, but it brought memories of happier times with its burst of sugary flavors. Additionally, it was a great way to get a quick energy boost when your curse technique burns through energy like a steam train. All in all, sweets had never been associated with anything negative. 

So why…

“Why am I crying?” Satoru spoke with his mouth full of the pastry he just bit into.

He had never been a person with manners. No matter how many times his clan elders or Yaga or even Suguru reprimanded him for his total lack of respect and etiquette, Satoru remained the least polite person on the planet. His tears streamed down his face, causing the teen to taste a slight saltiness when his tears reached his mouth. 

“Beats me. I only teared up when I tasted it for the first time.”  A man in a blindfold with stark white hair replied as he leaned back in his chair with a grin. He was dressed in a black shirt and white pants. The outfit’s resemblance to the man who had nearly killed Satoru had made the younger boy shiver. When the elder explained why he wore the ensemble, all of Satoru’s worries were mostly put at ease. He was a tall man that made Satoru feel like a toddler in comparison. Scars littered every inch of pale skin visible. It looked like the older one had been put through some shredding machine and lived. Despite his scarred skin, the man didn’t seem to be in any pain as he stretched his broad arms over his head. “You’re just a cry baby.”

Quick to forget the sadness Satoru was feeling, he dropped his fork to slam his hands on the small table. “I am not, old man!”

“Hey! I am not old!”

“Says the man with gray hair.”

“We have the same hair color, kid.”

“Nope. Mine’s more of a snow-white. Your’s is definitely much duller ‘cause you’re old.”

“...I think I finally understand Yaga now.” 

“Because you’re both old?”

A lollipop was thrown at Satoru’s face, no Infinity to prevent it from touching. However, the teen didn’t care. It felt nice to be a normal teen with normal teenager capabilities. Even if temporarily, the perpetual weight on Satoru’s shoulders was lifted, and he relaxed further into his own chair. Wiping his eyes with his hand and placing his fork down, Satoru picked up the fallen lollipop and began unwrapping it, only to find that the candy had been broken from the throw. He frowned. “You’re a dick.”

“That makes you one too, little shit.” 

Gojo Satoru looked at his apparent alternate self with a raised brow. It was hard to believe the man considering he had been a monstrous entity who had terrified Satoru hours ago. Well, it felt like hours had passed, but Satoru had no idea as to how much time had passed in the real world. One moment he was fighting for his life and the next he was at a bakery eating with a man who shared too many similarities with him. While the reprieve from battle was appreciated, Satoru knew that Nanami was still missing and Suguru was likely panicking with him out of commission. When he had first appeared in this strange mindscape, Satoru was horrified to find that all his powers were gone. Even his Six Eyes had disappeared. Before he could panic, the man currently eating with him had popped out of nowhere. 

“Kid, I know this is really confusing for you, but I need you to listen to me.”

“I can’t let you leave until I’ve shown you what you needed to see.”

“There’s no need to be scared, little me, you’re with the strongest sorcerer in the world! Gojo Satoru, the original! Just call me Infinite, ‘kay?”

It was quite difficult to believe that Infinite was not who he said he was, but Satoru knew better than to trust anyone’s word besides his own…Or maybe Suguru’s and Shoko’s. Whatever. No one else’s opinion mattered to Satoru. However, this older version of him was hard to ignore. Especially since the man had taken Satoru on a tour of the best bakery he had ever seen. Infinite had shown the teenager this place, which somehow served all of Satoru’s favorite treats. Even the more obscure desserts that Satoru had tried on a whim and loved. For example, the manifested bakery served the strange crunchy, fluffy thing that was covered in powdered sugar that Satoru had tried in a sketchy convenience store a while ago. He did not even know what the treat was, but it appeared in the strange bakery all the same. No one knew about Satoru’s more random sugary finds. Listening to Satoru’s rants about regular desserts was more than enough, so nobody wanted to learn about Satoru’s odder adventures in satiating his infamous sweet tooth.

The evidence was on Infinite’s side, but Satoru was nothing if not stubborn. 

Not having his Six Eyes was the main reason as to why Satoru was so hesitant to trust the man. If he had his ability to see the unseeable, Satoru would not have had this many doubts. However, the pastry that Infinite had just given him only proved he was telling the truth even more.

On the outside, the pastry did not look like the perfectly constructed desserts Satoru was used to buying. It was a simple apple pie that had definitely seen better days. The crust was golden brown, but it was quite uneven and lumpy. An attempt at a lattice was on top, asymmetrical and torn in some areas. Despite how rough it looked, the taste of the pie itself could only be described as comforting.  The pie was warm like it was just taken out of the oven and was stolen before it could completely cool because someone had gotten tired of waiting. Besides the literal warmth of the pastry, the delicious taste made Satoru delightfully warm inside. It was cheesy to say, but the boy didn’t care. Saturu was someone that could not emit heat of his own. His peers always joked that he could make a snowman shiver or freeze water if he touched it. No matter what he did, his coldness never went away. People would flinch when his cold hands touched them suddenly. He couldn’t provide the comfort his friends gave him. Compared to Satoru, Suguru was a living heater with his constant heat. Whenever Suguru embraced him, Satoru melted into his hold. Satoru could never do the same for his best friend. Or anyone. 

But he was warm right now. 

The gooeyness of the apple filling caused memories of gentle touches and lullabies to appear. All the spices and sugars mixed wonderfully to produce a taste so comforting that tears spilled from Satoru’s eyes the moment he tried it. While the crust and lattice were not pleasing on the eyes, its buttery flavor made all the tension in Satoru’s body dissipate. 

There was an additional element to this pie, however. It was delicious and comforting and so warm…yet there was a sadness that permeated each tiny crumb.

“I’m sorry that you can taste his feelings in the pie. I know he would have hated that, but this place is made of my memories, so I can’t change it.” Infinite sighed and placed his chin on one of his palms. There was an untouched slice in front of the older man with steam gently rising from the fresh pastry. 

“He?” Satoru let his surprise show. He did not have his glasses either to shield his expressive eyes, so the teen had all of his reactions on full display.

“Yup. He. I know that Yuna-san had made it for us when we were children, but someone very dear to me tried to replicate it.” A raspiness made its way into Infinite’s voice, revealing how difficult it was for him to talk about this cherished person. The elder cleared his throat and offered a soft smile. “I told him about it one day, but I was surprised that he remembered it…It tasted just like her’s.” 

“Yuna-san…” Satoru whispered.

 The woman had been his primary caretaker after his parents died. He had been too little to remember the short time his father had been with him before sickness took him. Yuna was part of the staff that specialized in caring for Satoru’s needs as a young boy. The others treated it like a box to be checked, but Yuna treated Satoru with so much love that he had genuinely thought she was his mother. After a harsh scolding from an elder, Satoru stopped trying to call her ‘Mama’ or ‘Kaa-san’ entirely. Still, he adored Yuna and was uncooperative to anyone that was not her. It got to the point that Satoru refused to listen to his tutors during lessons, his martial arts teachers during training, and especially his instructors meant to teach him about everything surrounding jujutsu sorcery. All because they were not the only maternal figure Satoru ever had. Evidently, the elders were not pleased with the little boy’s worsening rebellious behavior and presented the child with an ultimatum. Either he obeyed and behaved like a respectable person or they would never let Satoru see Yuna again. As any five-year-old would when told such upsetting information, Satoru had a complete meltdown and sobbed for his favorite caretaker. Despite the child’s heartbroken wails, the elders treated it like a tantrum from a spoiled brat. They had simply dragged the crying child to his room and ordered that he could not leave until he apologized for his horrid behavior. Unbeknownst to Satoru, the elders had also commanded that all staff, including Yuna, were not allowed to enter Satoru’s room for the rest of the day. If they went into his room, then the elders would see it as treason and offer a punishment fitting for such a crime against the clan. Without anyone to comfort him, Satoru cried and cried and cried until he ran out of tears. He nearly made himself pass out when his sobbing grew into hyperventilating. He wailed for Yuna over and over again, becoming more upset the longer that he was left alone. 

At some point, Satoru had fallen asleep on the floor and woke up to see that it was night. The child felt sick to his stomach, dizzy, thirsty, and very hungry. His dried tears and snot were uncomfortable on his face and his head pounded from his breakdown. Satoru tried calling for Yuna one last time and started to cry all over again when she didn’t show up. Before his sobbing could transition into ear piercing wails, a gentle knock stopped him. Yuna had finally appeared with a soothing smile on her face. At the time, Satoru was too young to notice the fear and despair hidden in the woman’s dark brown eyes. All he knew was that she hadn’t abandoned him and immediately ran to hug her legs tightly. Her warmth washed over Satoru’s body as her gentle voice chided him to be more careful. Yuna gently pried Satoru off and revealed the steaming pie she had in her gloved hands. She had two objects in a pocket in her still messy apron. With his focus on the dessert, Satoru stopped crying and smiled widely with his stomach rumbling. He tugged on her apron, and Yuna let out a warm laugh as she sat down. She took off her apron and placed the pie on top of it, taking off her oven mitts to take out a fork and a water bottle she had swiped. Unsurprisingly, Satoru clambered into her lap and begged for his dessert. When the child usually did this, Yuna would remind Satoru that he needs to eat properly. However, she allowed him to sit in her lap, knowing how horrible Satoru’s day was…and how it was her last day with the energetic boy. In her soothing voice, she spoke of how this dessert was from America and that it was her favorite guilty pleasure growing up. The pie itself was gorgeous with its perfect crust and braided lattice. She told Satoru that she wanted to apologize for being so late and that she wanted him to eat however he wanted tonight. Satoru, too happy to be with his caretaker, did not see Yuna’s watery eyes and quivering lips. He agreed and stabbed his fork into the pie unceremoniously, scooping it into his mouth. When he asked if Yuna was going to eat, she shook her head and said this was all for him. It was delicious and made Satoru forget the trauma he had experienced at the callus hands of the elders. The rest of the night, Yuna told stories that made Satoru giggle and sung lullabies until Satoru fell asleep. 

When Satoru would wake up, Yuna was gone. 

Forever. 

Satoru bit his lip to stop it from quivering. He never spoke of his clan for a reason. His disrespect towards the elders and other clan members was very intentional. When Yuna disappeared, Satoru got quieter. At first glance, it seemed like an improvement to the others. They would be proven wrong as Satoru would spend the rest of his childhood being angry and aggressive towards everyone. In fact, the young boy ran away often, ignoring any attempts at punishment with a scowl. When the elders tried threatening him after his twelveth time running away, Satoru threatened them back and told them how they had no right to boss him around. The preteen spoke about how he would kill them without remorse if they tried reprimanding him again. He said how he would make their deaths as slow and painful as possible because that’s what ‘old, useless geezers like you deserve’. With his piercing, murderous gaze, Satoru successfully managed to terrify the elders enough that they left him alone.

He had gotten used to being alone. 

After Yuna’s death, the members and staff of the Gojo clan feared Satoru, and Satoru never bothered to change their perception of him. In fact, he threatened them often growing up as his strength grew exponentially by the day. The disconnect that formed between Satoru and any other human being made befriending others impossible. Satoru had to treat the world around him as if it was more fragile than glass. A simple high five from him could break someone’s wrist if Satoru was not careful. It was not worth the effort in Satoru’s opinion to restrict himself at all times if he wanted to play with weaklings. Though, labeling others as weaklings was his immature way of dealing with his lack of friends growing up. In actuality, an aching loneliness permeated every waking moment of his childhood, something Satoru hid with a cheeky smile and even worse personality. Spending most of his time by himself caused Satoru to become an arrogant egomaniac. Who wouldn’t? No one had the power he had. No one could best him in a fight. He was leaps and bounds above his own teachers and sorcerers.

 Everything changed when he met Suguru for the first time. As a fellow special grade, Suguru understood Satoru on a level no one else did. He, Suguru, and Shoko were the only first-years and would become quick friends from spending every single day together. Suguru and Shoko spoke to him like a person, not a god to be feared and revered. It did wonders in weakening the god-complex Saturu had begun forming. He had been truly happy with his friends. 

Then there was Riko’s death by Toji’s bullet. 

Then there was Toji nearly killing Satoru and Suguru.

Then there was the devastating loss of Haibara. 

And Satoru had been alone again. 

Shoko had become buried in her studies in medicine and healing, so she never had time to do anything anymore. Any time spent with her was short and silent as Shoko smoked countless cigarettes or fell asleep mid-conversation. The following months after the failed Star Plasma mission were a blur for Satoru as he spent many sleepless nights mastering his techniques and being sent on endless missions. He lost count of the amount of nightmares Satoru had. He would wake up screaming more often than not, but nobody came to comfort him. In the past, Suguru would break down Satoru’s door the second the black-haired teen suspected something was wrong. This time, Suguru never came. Suguru rarely spoke after the incident, no matter how hard Satoru tried. It was like talking to a wall. Any words Suguru did say were quiet and empty, nothing like his usual lively and smooth voice. When Haibara died, Nanami had locked himself in his room for days and refused to interact with anyone outside of missions. It was a loss that hit the group hard. Satoru, Shoko, Suguru, Nanami, and Haibara had been a tight-knit group for a long time. Despite this, they spent no time grieving together. Satoru would try to go to Suguru when the grief got too great, but the other was somehow even more unresponsive than before. At that point, Satoru gave up. The higher-ups sent Satoru on more missions with the loss of Haibara and Nanami being ‘unavailable’. Words were not enough to describe the agony that Satoru had felt when he was no longer allowed to be sent on missions with Suguru. He had noticed the decline of his best friend first-hand. Suguru never smiled anymore and his usual neat hair grew tangled and greasy. Even with the presence of his remaining friends, the loneliness that Satoru had thought he had forgotten about crept up behind him like a spider about to entangle its prey. 

“Makes you think a lot, huh?” Infinite’s voice broke Satoru out of his whirlwind of thoughts and memories. For a moment, Satoru had genuinely forgotten about what he was doing. With a knowing smile, the scarred man stood up and pointed to the endless land before them. “Now that I’ve let you reminisce for a bit, it’s my turn to walk down memory lane. Come on, I’m on a time limit here.”

Satoru could barely mumble a response before Infinite warped them to an unfamiliar house. It looked like it was straight from a magazine. While decorated, the place held no sense of warmth or coziness. Based on the pristine state of the white couch, carpet, marble, everything , it was obviously not lived in. Infinite towered over Satoru, a feat most could not accomplish with Satoru’s own lengthy limbs, lips pressed into a thin line. Infinite gestured his head to the side that led to the kitchen, expecting Satoru to follow without a word. Which he did. There was a heaviness in the atmosphere that was preventing the chatty teen from saying anything. Once they reached the kitchen, the reason for the heaviness was apparent.

A boy with pink hair was sobbing next to an open oven. He was curled up in a fetal position, his legs being hugged tight by trembling arms while his face was buried into his knees. Still without his six-eyes, Satoru could not pinpoint the nature of the crying boy or the place he was in. Based on Infinite’s earlier words and the blurred edges of the house, this was a memory of his older doppelganger. However, the painful sobs of the boy made any attempts at analysis halt in Satoru’s mind. Upon getting a closer look, Satoru saw the broken remains of an apple pie on the floor. The pan was metal so it was not broken, but the pie itself was damaged. The identity of the ‘he’ Infinite had mentioned earlier clicked. Satoru could see why Infinite had sounded so pained when speaking about the boy. Even Satoru was feeling an ache in his chest as the boy continued to sob uncontrollably. He was younger than Satoru, which made the ache even worse. The warmth of the open oven was overshadowed by the sheer devastation the pink-haired boy was emitting. At first glance, it could be seen as silly for someone to be so broken over dropping a pie. However, Satoru knew better than to assume the boy was crying for that one reason.

Footsteps from behind Infinite and Satoru alerted them of another presence. Infinite was stone-faced with his fists clenched tightly. Glitches seemed to occur in Infinite’s body, reminding Satoru of a faulty video game. However, the new arrival prevented any further questioning. A man that looked exactly like an unscarred Infinite ran into the kitchen. The crying boy did not react to the man’s gentle nudges at all. 

“ Yuuji-kun, what’s wrong? We’ve been looking for you all day, and you haven’t responded to anyone’s calls or texts. ” After closing the oven door, the man knelt down in front of the boy, carefully taking the boy’s trembling hands into his own. He kept his movements slow and gentle, treating the younger like a spooked animal. A soft sigh escaped the man as the boy’s cries continued. Eyes identical to Satoru’s own held a mixture of grief, pain, and anger. It was a look that Satoru had had when he had learned of Haibara’s death. Clearly, this boy meant a lot to Satoru’s second look-alike for the man to have such a reaction. Without hesitation, the man embraced the shaking boy, hands soothing over his back. “ We were so worried, Yuuji-kun. You know how dangerous it is to travel alone with Sukuna and Kenjaku out there .”

The name of the most feared entity in the world caused Satoru to jolt. Sukuna was supposed to be a thing of the past, no chance of him ever appearing in the future. Satoru glanced at Infinite again, but could gather nothing from Infinite’s expression. The glitches, however, had gotten more frequent. Satoru ignored the unease in his gut to observe the two on the floor. Besides sharing the same eyes and hair, the man held a similar cadence to Satoru’s voice. It was deeper, but all the other tells were the same. He simply sounded and looked like an older Satoru. On the other hand, Infinite looked more like a broken copy of Gojo Satoru. 

Satoru decided to call the man hugging the pink-haired boy Gojo. Infinite had his own name, and no version of Satoru would be left nameless! Additionally, he hated being called Gojo as it made him feel old. Thus, making the name choice perfect for this older version of him! Said version was speaking quietly to the boy, continuing to rub the poor child’s back. Eventually, the sobs turned into sniffles, and Gojo leaned back. Yuuji, which is what Gojo seemed to call him, was reluctant to let go. Gojo held the boy’s hands again to supplement the absence of his hug. As his thumb soothed over smaller ones, Satoru noticed how Yuuji’s hands were covered in scars. The skin of his knuckles was worn and bore heavy scarring. What caught Satoru off guard was the missing pinky on his left hand. Based on the gruesome scars left behind, it was likely that the appendage had been ripped off.

With a worsening feeling of dread building within him, Satoru had no choice but to watch the broken exchanges between Gojo and this ‘Yuuji-kun’ he cared so much about. The words they spoke to each other in comfort had the complete opposite effect on Satoru. Mentions of Sukuna, Megumi, someone named Kenjaku, something happening in Shibuya, the ominous Culling Games, the date December Twenty-Fourth, and so much more that Saturu did not understand. He felt especially sick at the talk about saving Megumi, the little boy Satoru had unofficially adopted last year, from Sukuna’s grasp. Countless apologies flooded from Yuuji’s lips, which were met with gentle reassurances from Gojo. From what Satoru had heard, Gojo was Yuuji’s teacher. It seemed ridiculous to imagine himself as a teacher, but Gojo acted like helping his distressed student was as easy as breathing. The clear adoration and trust Yuuji exhibited for his teacher only disproved Satoru’s doubts. 

“Is that why you ran off to this safehouse? To make this for me?”

“...Yeah. Your fight with Sukuna is tomorrow, Sensei, so I wanted to make the pie you told me about. Do something good… But I messed up…”

“Nonsense, Yuuji-kun! Your cooking has always been the best, and I bet your baking is just as good! The pie isn’t unsalvageable! The stuff is still in the pan, so let’s bake that stuff! We wouldn’t want it to go to waste!”

“But Sensei-”

“But nothing! We’re going to bake this pie, it’s gonna be delicious, and then we will go to eat dinner with the others, okay? Choso will probably refuse to let you go for the remainder of the day, but no one is actually mad at you. Everything is going to be alright, Yuuji-kun. Your Sensei will win, and this mess will finally be over. Does that sound good, Yuuji-kun?”

“Yeah…Yeah it does.”

Yuuji uncurled completely and lifted his head. Before Satoru could see any other features besides the boy’s golden-eyes, the surroundings around them disappeared into a void of black. All the dread that had been building up within Satoru reached its peak as he saw the glitching form of Infinite towering over him. His mask was still on, but Satoru could still feel the other’s gaze boring into him. 

“Do you finally believe me?” Infinite tilted his head like a curious bird. His arms were behind his back, further increasing Satoru’s unease. 

“Huh?” His sudden fear had clouded over Satoru’s more rational mind. He was frantically trying to remember what Infinite was talking about, but his chaotic thoughts offered no answers.

A giggle left Infinite. “Do you finally believe that I’m Gojo Satoru? I’ve made the effort to prove that I am telling the truth. I’ve shown you things that no other soul is supposed to know. I was generous enough to show you a memory of mine to prove that I’m not a mindless curse. It was even a memory that held information that will be useful to you in the future.” 

The question unsettled Satoru. It reminded the boy that the pleasant bakery Infinite had shown him and the memories Infinite had resurfaced and shown was not done out of kindness. Taking away his Six Eyes and Limitless technique was not done to give Satoru the reprieve he desperately needed. No. It was all done for Infinite’s benefit alone. He had been foolish to even entertain that such a monster could be his alternate self. His guard had been let down from the painful memories and nostalgic sweets. 

This was all an illusion conjured up by a twisted abomination. 

Nanami and Suguru still needed him. 

“No. I don’t believe you. You were pretty damn convincing, but it wasn’t enough!” Satoru readied his body for a fight, lifting his fists. His powers weren’t back, so Infinite had the advantage in a potential battle. Even so, Satoru was not going to let this monster continue to manipulate him any longer! “You’re not me!”

“Is that your final answer?”

“YES! You’re making me hallucinate because you’re a fucking monster!”

“Ugh. I knew you were going to be stubborn, but I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. Sorry, kid. I don’t have the time to convince you any further, so we’re gonna do things my way.”

“Wh-”

In a blink, Infinite grabbed Satoru by the throat and lifted him into the air with one hand. His blindfold had vanished, revealing eyes that caused terror to surge through the teen. The grip on his throat was too strong for Satoru to escape from but not tight enough to suffocate. However, Satoru was only capable of extremely shallow and painful breaths, making his remaining strength dissipate. He had no choice but to stare at Infinite’s crazed face. Each glitch that appeared on Infinite’s body revealed the true nature of the creature slowly strangling him. The eyes of Gojo Satoru had always been his most well known feature. Seeing his eyes on this imposter was more unsettling than Satoru wanted to admit. While the striking color was the same, Infinite’s pupils were a cloudy white. It was the cloudiness that marked the end of a life. The eyes of a corpse. Not to mention, there were six of them. The main pair was staring at Satoru like a piece of meat. The upper pair of eyes were completely black while the lower pair was fully clouded over with blood leaking from them. Satoru tried to thrash around to escape, but the appearance of claws stopped him. This was it. This was the monster that had tormented Nanami and made Satoru feel weak for the first time. 

“I’ll make this quick. I am the cursed soul of Gojo Satoru, a sorcerer who perished in a world that no longer exists. It’s like resetting a computer. All the information is gone, so you gotta start all over again. Us cursed souls are like some random codes that stuck around. Make sense?” The squeeze to Satoru’s throat did not allow the teen to answer. Infinite’s hand did not budge even with the frantic clawing and thrashing from Satoru. “Codes can get corrupted, though. So corrupted that there is no resemblance to what they were prior to said corruption. That’s a cursed soul. We are what little remains of an erased world. We’re a sliver of a whole. So you can imagine that we’re not all there.” Infinite used his other hand to tap at the side of his head. His crazed expression grew into something dangerous as the grip on Satoru’s throat tightened so suddenly that Satoru’s vision went black for a moment. 

When the grip eased, Satoru felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes. Black spots were still in his vision, and his chest was in agony from the lack of oxygen. All of his struggles proved futile in Infinite’s iron grip. His words were swirling in Satoru’s head. While it was there, it wasn’t sinking in yet for him to form a coherent thought about it. Wheezes escaped Satoru’s lips and his hands tried to claw at Infinite for the umpteenth time. His lungs ached, yet his heart was pounding in his ears. Fear surged through Satoru as Infinite suddenly squeezed harder. His grip tightened and tightened and tightened until Satoru could feel his eyes bulge out of his head. The black spots grew, and the ache within his lungs turned into an inferno of pain. His body was screaming at the boy to take a breath, but Satoru’s windpipe was currently being crushed. Tears of pure terror flowed down Satoru’s throat. His mind was blaring alarm bells, telling Satoru that he would die if he did not take a breath. It hurt . Satoru’s chest spasmed with the desperate attempts at taking in a breath. He could not stop his body from trying to get air, causing indescribable agony for the poor boy. Fuck. He was going to die. He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it this time. Suguru and Nanami still needed him! He couldn’t die! But his brain was fuzzy and his chest hurt too much to care. Satoru felt a wave of exhaustion hit him. His eyes were fluttering and his limbs had gone slack. 

Then Satoru was released.

Immediately, Satoru inhaled deeply to get as much air as possible. He held his throat as a coughing fit overwhelmed him. All his prior dignity was shattered as pitiful sobs shook Satoru’s lean frame. His resolve to defeat Infinite was gone. The mere thought of the other made Satoru scramble frantically to create distance. Infinite was staring at Satoru like the teen was an animal in a zoo exhibit. His body had grown long and spindly as Infinite slowly stalked towards Satoru’s retreating form. Even with his slow gait, Infinite reached Satoru once more. When he was close enough, Infinite crouched down and stared at Satoru, who had stopped trying to get away. 

“My bad. I lost myself for a bit there. This stable state doesn’t last that long, ya know? That’s why I’m in a bit of a rush.” Infinite grinned at the shaken teen. Sweat covered Satoru’s heaving form, caused by the fear and strain from being strangled. “I intended to show you everything slowly. Ease you into it. But convincing you to believe me took more time and effort than I thought, so you don’t have that luxury anymore.”

“Show me what.” Satoru spat with a raspy voice. 

“Everything I suppose.” Infinite sat down with his legs crossed. Though, it looked more like a snake coiling itself up to strike. “We’ve always been the strongest. It’s our burden to bear that cannot be shared with anyone. Afterall, we have something no one else has. Our Six-Eyes are much more powerful than you think. It transcends time. We can perceive something as long as we want and no time would have passed in the real world. Currently, seconds have only passed. Suguru has not realized what is going on. I’ve already shown Nanami what I need him to know and I will soon talk to Suguru. The aftermath of showing you three such things will be much more time consuming in reality than the act of speaking with you in the first place. Don’t worry though! Suguru and Nanami will be alright! I’m not as sure as to what will happen to you, though.”

The mentions of his friends caused Satoru to tense. Is that why Nanami suddenly disappeared? If Infinite had been aggressive and terrifying with Satoru, then who knows how unstable he would be with Suguru. What had Infinite shown Nanami? What information does Infinite need to show him? Satoru gritted his teeth. He was sick of Infinite’s vagueness. “If you’re in such a rush, just spit it out already! I have never been very patient with ugly pieces of shit!”

His nasty remark only elicited a laugh from Infinite. “Spicy! I forgot about how bratty I was as a teenager!” In seconds, Infinite’s jovial tone disappeared. His constantly switching moods were disorienting for Satoru, but he knew he was slightly similar in that regard. The air grew impossibly colder as Infinite stood and walked a good distance away. Despite his glitching form, Infinite had no problems with moving. His arms spread wide as the glitches took over his body. Where a man once stood, there was no the same beast that had terrorized Satoru. A shriek of laughter left the beak of the creature as Infinite crawled on all fours to the horrified teen. Somehow, his talons left gouges in the empty void as if he was walking on a real floor. Infinite’s tail spread out to the fullest, countless eyes staring at Satoru with the intensity of a thousand suns. 

All of Satoru’s limbs were paralyzed. Despite his desperate desire to run, Satoru could not make a single finger twitch. His body was not listening to his brain's frantic commands.

A distorted voice filled his ears, and Satoru felt his heart stop.

You’ve been a pain to deal with, kid. You’re lucky that I need you alive or else I would have killed you long ago. 

Listen. This world is a new, altered copy of an old one. What occurred in the old world we cursed souls are from cannot happen again. This is why I need to show you and your friends certain pieces of information. I’m sorry for attacking you. I’m not supposed to be able to speak or think this clearly in the first place. It’s a secret that you have to keep. My awareness is underestimated, and I’d like to keep it that way. So no telling. Especially Sukuna! 

And if you do tell, no one will believe you because I will revert back to a beast the moment I’m done speaking with you boys. This may be the last time I’ll ever get to be lucid again, so you better shut your trap and listen.

I know that you don’t deserve this, but I don’t have any other options. We’re the strongest in every world, kid. I was hoping that you would be able to live a more peaceful life than mine, but the world is a cruel place. Listen very carefully, okay? Sukuna has returned. His allegiances and goals are much more beneficial than before, so I highly suggest gaining his trust. You have the chance that I never did of having a better world, but you will need Sukuna’s help. A much greater evil will emerge, and you will lose without Sukuna. If he thinks for a second that you or the other sorcerers are a threat, then he will kill everyone. 

If you are going to listen to anything, listen to this. Sukuna’s sole purpose in life is to protect Itadori Yuuji. It’s my and the other cursed souls' purpose as well. We will not show mercy if Yuuji is harmed by any of you. That is a promise. Got it? Good. Moving on.

As an inheritor of the Six-Eyes and Limitless, your brain is capable of handling vast amounts of information without imploding in on itself. What I showed Nanami and will show Suguru is miniscule compared to what I am going to show you. 

You will receive twenty-nine years of information in the span of twenty-nine minutes. The memory I showed you earlier was real, and you will see many memories like it. I don’t care if you don’t believe me anymore. It’s your funeral if you don’t.

If you are idiotic enough to ignore everything I have said, then I will take matters into my own hands to ensure that Yuuji is safe and cared for. Trust me when I say that you do NOT want that to happen. You may be my alternate self, and I do want you to live a good life, but Yuuji’s happiness is my number one priority. 

Now, then. Are you ready?

“N-No…” Satoru gasped out. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to be ready. Ever . What Infinite had just told him was already frying Satoru’s brain. How the hell would he manage to handle over two decades of information?! Having the constant input of his Six Eyes was one thing, but such vast amounts of data, memories, and whatever else is too much! The past year has been so horrible already. He didn’t want to know anything that Infinite had to show him! So what if he’s the strongest?! He’s just a teenager! 

Are you scared?

The strangely gentle tone spooked Satoru. He still could not move, but he was able to grit his teeth in frustration. “I’m not! I don’t want to listen to your bullshit!”

It’s not bullshit. I know this year has been hard. I went through the same thing, only it got even worse. 

“You’re not me for fuck’s sake!” His angry shout sounded more like a choked sob. A quiet hum came from Infinite in response. Satoru’s head pounded from the stress while his lungs continued to ache fiercely. He hated him. He hated Infinite so much. “JUST SHUT UP ALREADY!”

Suguru was supposed to defect today. 

Satoru froze. 

This very night, Suguru was supposed to leave Jujutsu High in secret. He was supposed to leave on a train, get assigned a sudden mission to a village whilst on the train, go to the village, and slaughter every civilian in it. Over a hundred died by Suguru’s hand in a single night. This night. If I hadn’t intervened and caused trouble in Sendai, you would have never been sent on this mission with Nanami. Neither of you would have called Suguru. And Suguru would have done the same thing he did in my world. Because I intervened, Suguru is with you instead of that train. 

“Suguru was going to…” The teen trailed off before he could finish such a terrible sentence. His desire to defend his best friend was competing with the many worrying signs that Suguru was going down a dark path. Satoru had seen the emptiness within Suguru grow by the day. He noticed Suguru’s lack of scolding when Satoru would say something rude about non-sorcerers. He is aware that with Satoru and Suguru being assigned separate missions, Suguru has spent more time alone than ever before. He has heard Suguru mutter to himself time and time again when the black-haired boy thought he was alone. He remembers Yaga’s concerned eyes when Suguru stopped participating in class. He knew that Suguru had been distancing himself from everyone the day after collecting Riko’s corpse from the Children of the Star facility. Satoru’s denial was completely shattered with his last thought.

The few times that Suguru spoke, it was always about getting rid of the ‘monkeys’.

His mouth went dry at the realization that Infinite was trying to help Satoru. The person who benefited the most from Suguru’s presence is Satoru. Losing Suguru would be too devastating for Satoru to handle. If Infinite, this crazed monster, was telling the truth, then he had to experience the loss of his one and only today. 

It’s in the world’s best interest if Suguru does not become a curse user. You’ll need to stop him from such a fate. If you fail and Suguru commits to his plan of massacring all non-sorcerers, then you must do everything you can to keep him alive. His abilities are greatly sought after by an entity named Kenjaku. No matter what, Suguru cannot come under Kenjaku’s control. Kenjaku takes over the body of his victims by switching their brain with their victim’s body. They can mimic the behavior of their victim perfectly and they can copy the cursed technique and cursed energy of the body they inhabit as well. The only way that you can detect Kenjaku’s presence is a scar that appears on the forehead of whoever they’re possessing. The scar looks like stitches. 

If all else fails, kill Suguru and make sure to burn his body immediately. Don’t let your feelings get in the way. Having Suguru live is the best choice. I don’t want you to have to go through what I did, so please listen to what I have to say.

Tears burned behind Satoru’s eyes, but he refused to let them out. The images of his future self killing Suguru mercilessly invaded his mind. He didn’t want that to happen. 

He would make sure it never happens.

“I’m ready. Show me everything.” Satoru steeled himself for the influx of information. His mind was cycling through the names of the people Infinite had mentioned. Sukuna. Yuuji. Kenjaku. He repeated the names in his head to commit it to memory. “You said we’re the strongest, right? The strongest is supposed to protect the weak. Heh. That’s what Suguru used to tell me.”

And he would be right. Despite what he did in my world, my Suguru always had more sense than me. It’s likely that the overload I’m about to give you will cause a degree of brain damage. It won’t kill you, but it will have an effect on your sanity. Hell, you might be stuck in a mindless state for a few months. In my opinion, as a fellow Gojo Satoru, you’ll wake up in a couple days with some screws permanently loose. You’ll have Suguru to help you, so I see no future problems with your diminished sanity. Sound good?

Satoru let out a wet laugh. He pushed down all his worry and dread with a harsh swallow. The boy smiled widely with a cocky look in his eyes.  “Well, we’ve always been the strongest, not the sanest, right?” 

Right! Good attitude to have, kid. I know I’m making you sacrifice a lot and not giving you a choice to say no. You’re still so young. You should be enjoying your youth with your friends. 

“Yah don’t say.”

Let me finish brat. It’s likely that Kenjaku is going to be an even bigger threat than before. You’ll see why that’s super bad really soon. 

“Ooo! Lucky me!”

I deserve that, I’ll admit. Anyways! I’m sure that Kenjaku will take ten years to stir up trouble like they did before. You’ll have a decade to prepare. Take care of Megumi and keep an eye on Suguru and Nanami. I might even pop in for a visit during those years. Who knows? Maybe I’ll let you see Yuuji. 

“To be honest, I do want to meet the kid.” A much more genuine tone made its way into Satoru’s voice. 

As would anyone else! Now, I need you to remember not to tell anyone. Use these years to grow stronger and develop a bond with Yuuji. If Yuuji likes you, Sukuna and his vessel Ryomen will…tolerate…you. The higher-ups cannot know about any of this. They won’t believe you and will try to send you to the loony bin anyway. Just talk about it with Suguru and Nanami. Shoko and Yaga are trustworthy, so do as you wish with that. Utahime too. However, you cannot trust Mei Mei or Gakuganji. The old geezer is obvious as to why he’s trustworthy. I can’t remember how Mei Mei is at this age, but the Mei Mei I know only speaks in cash. Maybe try to change that? It’s not a priority but it’ll be a relief for your wallet!

“Huh. Thanks for the tip.”

You’re welcome. And, kid?

“Hm?” Satoru locked eyes with Infinite, who was now centimeters away from his face. The birdlike creature gave the boy a musical trill. The mask around his face disappeared and Satoru saw Infinite’s six eyes again. This time, they were clear, no cloudiness in sight. They each held immense relief and gratitude in them. Satoru took a deep breath, knowing that the banter was over. “So…You gonna do it?”

Infinite cooed in response, getting even closer. He was so close that Satoru could feel the white fur and colorful feathers tickling his chin. The scent of the beast was strange as well. It was like breathing during winter. The air was crisp but it made your nose feel cold. It was an even odder sensation to feel the beast’s fur when Infinite wrapped around Satoru. It was soft and dense with the occupational fluffiness of a feather. Additionally, the outer layer of Infinite’s white fur was cold, yet Satoru could feel the warmth of the bird’s core. It took Satoru a few moments to relax in Infinite’s grip, but he eventually caved in with the lack of attacks on Infinite’s end. It was like being hugged in all directions. Satoru could not help but think of the penguin documentary Megumi had forced him to watch two nights ago. He remembers how Megumi, who was normally grouchy and quiet, lit up as he explained how emperor penguins huddled together to preserve warmth during arctic storms. 

Satoru definitely felt like a penguin at that moment.

It was nice. 

The tip of Infinite’s sharp beak suddenly pressed against Satoru’s forehead. On instinct, the teen closed his eyes. His thoughts all came to a stop as Satoru solely focused on the warmth on his head. Of all things, Infinite’s beak was the warmest part of the bird’s body. It somehow made Satoru relax even more. Warmth was always good in his mind. Infinite spoke once more within the teen’s mind, his voice much more subdued than before. 

You will experience all my pain, all my anger, all my loss within moments.

It’s gonna be agonizing, but you’re strong. Stronger than anyone. 

You’ll be shattered, repaired, and shattered again. 

But you’ll come out stronger. Stronger than me. 

You may feel more alone than ever before after this.

But eventually…

You’ll be happy. So, so happy. I promise you that, kid.

No matter how tough it gets, just remember that everything will turn out amazing in the end. 

I know that you’re going to suffer, but I also know that you’re going to be loved. Megumi may not show it now, but he loves you so much, kid. Yuuji has barely been in this world, but I can already see the endless love he’s going to have for you. 

Suguru is going to love you if you give him the chance to.  Don’t miss that chance.

You’re a good kid. A real good one. Remember that, okay? 

Satoru’s Six-Eyes and Limitless technique immediately returned in full force. 

Everything turned into a blinding white. 

Your life will turn out so much happier and longer than mine could ever hope to be. 

__________

The first thought that went through Suguru’s head was simply: OW .

It felt like every inch of his body had been battered and bruised. Even the tips of his fingers ached. Normally, Suguru would try to sleep off any ailments that he had, refusing to go to Shoko more often than not. As a special grade sorcerer, Suguru was strong enough that most curses were not able to place a scratch on him. The only injuries he ever sustained on missions were the occasional bruise or cut. Sore muscles were not a new thing for Suguru, but the aching within him felt different than a strained muscle. 

All his energy had been sapped away. Suguru’s body desperately wanted to go back to bed, but his mind was too active and chaotic to allow him any opportunities to rest. Reluctantly, the teen opened his eyes with the grogginess of an elderly man. Once he managed to sit up, Suguru wiped the crust from the corners of his eyes and tugged on his cheeks to further wake up. After a few minutes, Suguru was awake enough to notice the strange room he was in. 

He was in the infirmary.

“I see you are awake, Getou-san.”

The quietness of Nanami’s voice caused a jolt of adrenaline to shoot through Suguru. He was startled, sure, but most of his shock came from how beaten Nanami was and the memories that came with his wounds. 

Nanami and Satoru’s terrified pleas. A shriek of laughter. Six monstrous entities. Eyes. Too many eyes. A baby. A bloody man with white hair. The existence of cursed s-

In an instant, Suguru jumped from his bed to kneel next to Nanami’s. His legs were too unstable to keep the older teen upright, so his short journey to the younger caused several things to crash. He grasped the white sheets of the infirmary bed tightly. His breathing turned heavy as he bored his tired eyes into Nanami’s surprised ones. Suguru analyzed every part of the blonde’s face. Once he was sure that Nanami was not a hallucination and was actually a living breathing person, he sat back on his heels with a sigh. 

Never one to beat around the bush, Nanami broke the silence quite bluntly. “You’ve been unconscious for nearly six days. Yaga-sensei and the higher ups are looking into the entities we encountered on our mission. There has also been a halt on all missions for the three of us until Yaga deems us fully recovered.” His left arm went to rub his injured right arm, which was currently in a sling. The hospital gown he was wearing did little to hide the countless bandages wrapped around the boy. There were more than a few burns across Nanami’s pale skin as well. When the younger noticed Suguru’s staring, he sighed like he had aged ten years. Nanami, someone who made sure to look everyone in the eye, was currently glancing anywhere but at Suguru. In fact, the underclassman was staring at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Gojo-san is currently being held in one of Tengen-sama’s strongest cells. He woke up a day after I did and immediately tried to attack you. I tried to intervene, but he did not hesitate to attack me as well.” Nanami numbly gestured at his injuries. 

“Satoru attacked you?” Suguru felt like he was in an alternate dimension. The Satoru he knew would rather live without sweets than live in a world where he hurts the ones he cares about. Moreover, Satoru was disrespectful to the higher-ups, but he was smart enough to play along with their cowardly orders. He was strong enough to get away with his behavior, so to hear that his best friend was imprisoned did not sound real. What’s worse, Tengen’s barrier was being used to contain Satoru and Satoru alone. Those barriers were strong enough to keep all curses in Japan, preventing them from spreading into other countries. The fact that one of those barriers is now holding Satoru like a dog in a pound made white-hot anger flow through Suguru. 

“It was done to prevent Gojo-san from killing you.” As if sensing Suguru’s incoming rage, Nanami was quick to respond. Once more, the blonde sighed heavily, his exhaustion evident from the sickly paleness of his sin and the dark bags beneath his eyes. “We were all given hallucinations of some sort by the entity that resembled a draconic bird of prey. Shoko-san said that it’s likely that Gojo-san’s Six-Eyes caused him to experience a much worse hallucination than us, thus causing him to be in an altered state upon waking up.”

“That damn bird.” Suguru snarled beneath his breath. When he tried to remember what the shrieking menace had shown him, Suguru’s head immediately grew fuzzy. It was shocking to hear that Satoru had been restrained for Suguru’s sake, but that was not what was weighing on his mind. What concerned him most was Nanami’s mention of Satoru’s Six-Eyes causing his best friend to suffer intensely. No matter how hard either tried, Satoru could not explain his ability to Suguru and Suguru failed to understand the poor explanations Satoru provided. It was something that could not be put into words, something Suguru hated. To put it simply, Suguru liked knowing things. He refused to be left in the dark about anything, so he often went out of his way to gain any knowledge he lacked on a mission or lesson. This included going to forbidden areas to learn the stories Yaga was forced to omit during teachings. 

And Suguru knew just the place to get the knowledge he needed right now. 

“Shoko-san warned to not exit the infirmary without her permission.” Nanami said monotonously. Though, the boy did nothing to stop Suguru from shakily exiting the cramped room. 

“You got hurt. Satoru’s imprisoned and not acting like himself. I don’t need to know anything else.” While stern, Suguru made sure to keep any anger from his voice. His mind was still reeling, but time was of the essence. He could not afford to waste time being shocked or waiting for Shoko or Yaga to inform him on what happened. Satoru was still in that awful trance, and Suguru did not trust the higher-ups or the Gojo clan elders to not take advantage of his best friend. Every second wasted was a second added to the torture Satoru’s mind was going through. Despite his greasy hair and messy hospital gown, Suguru felt stronger than he has in months. He nodded reassuringly at Nanami. “You need to rest much more than me, Nanami-kun. I’ll take care of things from now on. I apologize for making you take on the work I was supposed to do, I have been weak for far too long. Thank you for carrying that extra burden, but it is now my turn to take it back.”

To anyone else, it would seem that Nanami had not reacted whatsoever to Suguru’s words. However, Suguru had known Nanami long enough that he knew all the tells of the stoic boy’s body. Nanami’s eyes, albeit slightly, had a watery tint to it. His right hand, the hand that Nanami used to carry his blade, twitched. It showed just how much Suguru’s words had meant to him. 

The edges of Nanami’s lips twitched up in a ghost of a smile. “Thank you, Getou-san. Though, to me,  your strength was not diminished in the least. It was simply redirected to something else.” Nanami returned Suguru’s nod. When the underclassman looked up, there was a knowing spark in his eyes. “Be careful with your studies.” 

“I will.” 

.

.

.

After stumbling into his room for proper clothes, Suguru found that there was a fresh uniform left for him on his bed. The suitcases he had packed prior were tucked into a corner, which nearly made Suguru pass out from panic. However, he quickly calmed down when he read the note attached to his uniform. 

If you’re reading this, then I assume you lost enough brain cells to go after Satoru despite being unconscious for several days. Dumbass. 

Here’s one of the uniforms you packed up. You better tell me about those suitcases or else I’ll cut off all your hair and burn it. I’m sure Satoru will help me hold you still. Dumbass. 

Satoru’s meant to be the idiot of the group, so do some magic true love gay shit to bring him back. I can’t handle more than one dumbass at a time. 

Good luck, lover boy.

-Shoko

Suguru had simply pocketed the note, ignoring how his face felt like it was about to burst into flames, and changed into his clean uniform. It was almost pitiful how eager Suguru had been to leave Jujutsu High and the Jujutsu world in general just days ago. Yet, his entire plans had been put to a screeching halt by a loud-mouthed white-haired boy he cared too much about. No one was stopping him from leaving. Hell, Suguru’s suitcases were still fully packed. It’d be easy.

But the thought of leaving now only caused bile to rise in Suguru’s throat.

With one last look at his suitcases and empty room, Suguru made his way to his destination with no further hesitation. 

The Catacombs of the Disgraced Ones

[onthewaytosomewhere]

🍹& FirstPrince, I don't mind smut so you do you 😘

alright luv here ya go - this took an unexpected turn and now here we are:) this can also be found on ao3

under the cut for smut :)

Alex sees Henry across the bar. He had run up to their room to grab something they had forgotten, and they still had time before their car arrived to pick them up, so he had asked Henry to order them drinks. Henry is seated at the end of the bar, one of the few people in this bar not part of a couple or larger group. Alex can’t help but think about how damn attractive he is, this man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. An idea pops into his head, and he figures out why not; they haven’t done that for a while. He walks over and acts like he doesn’t know or recognize Henry, placing his hand on the stool beside him, “Is this seat taken?” He can tell Henry recognizes the phrase and the amped-up southern accent Alex uses for what it’s meant to be—an invitation to play a game they sometimes pull out on vacation.

“It can be, if you want it?” It’s the standard reply they use for this game of theirs worked out years ago as a way to show they were just as ready to play as whoever initiated.

“I’d love that,” Alex pulls the chair out and motions to the drink in front of him. “Were you expecting someone?”

Henry huffs out a laugh, “I thought so, but he seems to have disappeared, so it’s all yours if you want it.”

Alex takes a sip and realizes it’s the local whiskey they discovered a couple of days ago, and he can’t seem to get enough of it. He moans around the flavors in his mouth. “Their loss is my gain.” He rakes his eyes over Henry, “In both drink and company. So, what brings you to the island?”

“Oh, just a little vacation? You?”

“Oh, same. Though I must say, it’s just gotten better. I didn’t think I’d meet someone who takes my breath away tonight.” Alex drags a finger across Henry's hand resting on the bar between them.

Henry chuckles, “That’s sweet to say, but I must tell you I’m sure my fiancé won’t like you hitting on me so blatantly.”

It takes Alex a moment to process what he said. Once he does, his heart stutters, and he chokes out, “Fiancé?”

Henry pulls a ring box out of his jacket pocket and pops it open “Well, if you’ll say yes? I’ve been holding onto this all week, trying to find the ‘right time,’ but I realize that maybe that’s just a construct of my mind. So—”

Alex cuts him off with a fond, “Bastard …” he pulls a similar ring box from his pocket, “This was what I had to go back up to the room for. I had planned to ask you later.”

“You still can; this can be my proposal; well, if you give me an answer, you can still have yours later.”

“Fuck … yes … always yes, Henry.”

Henry slides the ring from the box in his hand onto Alex’s finger, and Alex can’t get over how it looks there. Henry whispers, “I love you, Alex,” and Alex nearly melts.

He looks at the time on his watch and then leans in, “We have 25 minutes before the car will be here. Come with me?”

They down what’s left of their drinks, and Alex drops some bills on the bar by the glasses. He pulls Henry toward the private restrooms he remembers seeing, and once they’re in, he snaps the lock in place. Alex pushes Henry toward the wall and gets his hand on his belt buckle as he drops to his knees. He has the belt undone with a speed and dexterity borne of years of experience. Alex undoes Henry’s fly and pulls his cock free. He takes a moment just to look, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how something like a cock can be so damn pretty, but Henry’s is the prettiest he’s ever fucking seen. He loves the way the foreskin plays around the tip and watching it pull back as Henry gets hard.

“If you stare at my cock too long, I won’t have time to return the favor before the car gets here.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah, this is gonna be quick and dirty. But the first time, I get to blow my well, halfway-fiance.”

“Halfway?”

“Yeah, it’ll be all-the-way-fiancé once I get to do my proposal later. Now stop distracting me so I can suck your dick.”

“By all means,” Henry says with a moan as Alex takes the head of his cock into his mouth, sliding the foreskin back to tongue at that spot right under the head of his cock that drives Henry wild. The back of Henry’s head hits the wall, and he is lost in a litany of moans and curse words. Alex wants to take his time but knows they’re on a time crunch. He makes good use of his lack of a gag reflex and works Henry fast and sloppy. He hasn’t given this sloppy of a blowjob in quite some time, but if the sounds he’s pulling from Henry are any indication, he’s enjoying himself. He feels Henry’s hand clench in his hair and reminds himself he’ll need to check it before they leave. Henry’s hips move in that way that tells Alex he’s close, so he hollows his cheeks and sucks. Henry’s coming down Alex’s throat in almost record time, and Alex works him through his orgasm, savoring every last drop.

Henry pulls Alex up and kisses him, licking into his mouth as if he’s chasing the taste of himself. It’s dirty and hot in a way that always gets Alex going. When Henry turns them and drops to the floor, fly still open and cock still out, Alex drops his head back to the wall. Henry attacks his belt and fly with a vigor reminiscent of their early days. Alex feels Henry’s mouth around his cock, and he’s not sure that he’s going to hold on long, but he supposes that’s the plan since they don’t have a lot of time.

The way Henry’s mouth feels on his dick is something that never gets old. Alex jokes sometimes that Henry could ‘go pro’ at cock-sucking, but he doesn’t want anyone else to know what it feels like to come with Henry’s mouth around them. Henry’s mouth is a national treasure in two nations, and Alex is so damn close to coming. Henry sucks, and that’s all it takes before Alex is falling over the edge, Henry working him through his orgasm. Henry’s mouth slides off Alex’s dick with a ‘pop’ that is nearly obscene.

Henry tucks Alex back into his boxers and does his fly back up, before standing and putting himself to rights. Alex pulls him in for a kiss and kisses him with every bit of love he’s feeling. Henry returns the kiss in a way that reminds Alex why he’s so damn in love with this man. He reluctantly pulls back and looks at his watch. He leans in and says softly, “Our car should be arriving any moment, and I’ve got big plans. After all, I have to make you my all-the-way-fiancé yet.”

Alex gets to make his proposal, and when they return to the hotel they make love for the first time as engaged men. As he lies cuddled up to Henry after, Alex thinks he can’t wait to make this man his husband.

[inkberrry]

Do Your Worst

The road to Baldur's Gate was long, and all Vehnrix wanted was a few moments alone with Gale. Taking matters into his own hands, Gale found a way to give Vehnrix the pleasure he sought without the need for full privacy.

Read below or on ao3. Smut below!

Vehnrix made the mistake of telling Gale to do his worst. 

It started off in Gale’s tent, the two of them interrupted by the sound of the others waking outside. Vehnrix groaned as he rolled to his back, his arm wrapped around Gale’s middle. A few more minutes , he’d whined. That’s all he wanted. Gale chuckled and pushed himself to an elbow, the shadow of desire behind his eyes when he looked down at Vehnrix. 

“No time for us this morning, it seems,” he said, utterly cheerful in spite of the situation.

“There’s never any time for us,” Vehnrix countered with a sigh. He let his hand trail across the soft of Gale’s stomach, through the thick patches of hair. With the little privacy their camp provided and the ever present threat of danger, it wasn’t often the two of them could indulge. 

“And what if we stole some time during our day?” Something in Gale’s expression piqued Vehnrix’s interest, and he pushed himself up to sit. “Oh, nothing as extravagant as I’ve done before — no rushing away to our own private pocket plane. Something we can enjoy while we travel?”

Vehnrix narrowed his eyes, both curious and just a bit apprehensive. “And what’s that, Gale?”

Gale sat, too, and began to move his hands in a familiar motion, the light of his magic filling the tent. Nothing happened, though, and Vehnrix raised his brows in question when Gale gave him a satisfied smirk. 

“What did —“ Vehnrix started, but his words cut off, turned into a surprised groan when he felt the warm grip of a hand wrap around his cock and give a quick tug. He looked down to see nothing , then back up to Gale looking incredibly similar to a smug cat. 

“A little trick of mine,” Gale explained, and the grip around Vehnrix’s shaft loosened while it slowly stroked the length of him. “A really very clever use of mage hand . Invisible to everyone, but with no loss in dexterity and maneuverability.”

Vehnrix groaned again, leaning back on his elbows as the hand worked him to full stiffness. “So, what,” he said, resisting the urge to push his hips up into the unseen motion. “You’re just going to tease me all day with this?”

“Precisely,” Gale answered, his eyes locked on Vehnrix and the way he was certain his skin flushed in pleasure. “If, of course, you’re amenable to this little treat?”

“Oh, I am. Do your worst, Gale.”

And, it turned out, Gale’s worst was much more devious than Vehnrix had thought the wizard capable of. 

Not at first, though. The two of them dressed and donned their weapons. They broke down the tent and helped to repack supplies. Gale prepared breakfast for everyone, his attention focused away from Vehnrix. It was enough to make the memory of the morning fade into the background, other matters taking its place. 

They set off on the road sometime before mid-morning. Baldur’s Gate was still days ahead of them, but at least the way was mostly clear. Whether that was a good sign or an ill one, Vehnrix wasn’t certain. He walked ahead with Astarion, the two of them bickering over which one of them got the good dagger today, after it had mysteriously gone missing from Astarion’s hip the night before. 

“I know it was you, you little wretch,” Astarion complained. “No one else in our merry band has the skill or the audacity .”

“You have no proof, and why would I —“ Vehnrix nearly stumbled, his words again cut off by the surprise pressure of a hand pressing against his cock. He cursed, and forced back a soft moan as the pressure increased and started to rub.

“Are you dying ?” Astarion asked, eying Vehnrix gleefully. “Because, dear, that is what you get for stealing my dagger.” 

Vehnrix took a breath, centering himself. His eyes darted to Gale, in the midst of a conversation with Wyll. Going on about something, not even sparing Vehnrix a sidelong glance. 

“I’m not dying,” Vehnrix said, turning back to Astarion. The mage hand still rubbed at him, the friction of fabric between him and the magic curling his toes inside his boots. “And like I said — if you want your dagger back just be better at keeping it.”

It only got worse from there. Gale seemed intent on rising to Vehnrix’s challenge, and getting him to rise, too. At the worst possible moments. Each time was more intense than the one before, the mage hand not limited to between his legs but brushing back his hair, trailing ghost-light touches down his neck and over his ears. Vehnrix stopped trying to suppress the shudders it caused him, and Karlach asked more than once if he was catching a fever. 

And Gale, Gale , with his easy smile for Vehnrix whenever he looked at him, his cheery current of conversation with no hint of misdeeds. Vehnrix more than once imagined pulling him off the road and behind a copse of trees or bushes and showing him just what he was doing. But that would be giving in — that would be letting Gale win , and Vehnrix was too stubborn by far.

It was only when mid-afternoon rolled around that Vehnrix started to think this was a mistake. Gale was being particularly relentless, mage hand cupped tight around the bulge between Vehnrix’s legs. It squeezed and stroked, the pace and pressure exactly how Vehnrix liked, thanks to Gale’s intimate knowledge. The heat in his body rose, a tingling starting at his core and racing down, pulsing through him.

“Shit ,” he murmured, pausing by a tree and bracing his arm against it. His breathing grew ragged as he tried to control his pleasure. His cock twitched and swelled, heralding Gale going too far . 

He must have noticed, as the pressure vanished not a second too soon. Gale walked up next to him and placed a fully solid and visible hand on his shoulder. He was smiling again, eyes alight, and Vehnrix had the distinct realization that this is what he must look like when he was in the middle of teasing the wizard until he was clay in his hands. It was wonderful.  

“You’re having fun, aren’t you?” He accused, swallowing back the remainder of heat. Slowly, he stepped away from the tree.

“Oh I most certainly am,”Gale said. “Watching you get flustered all day is quite the experience. I can’t deny it has gotten me a tad worked up, too.”

Vehnrix shook his head, half a laugh on his lips. He leaned in close to Gale, conscious of the rest of their group watching from a distance. “Gale, I am going to fuck all that arrogance out of you tonight.” 

“Oh?” Gale raised his brows, undaunted. “Do you think you’ll make it that long, Vehn? I really am rather curious to see how you’ll continue to hold up.” 

And there was the pressure again, the tingle of magic working its way through Vehnrix’s pants and down into his skin. He let out a surprised whine, the sound carrying too well. 

“Fucking Selune’s tits,” he groaned. “You are awful.” 

“But you love me anyway, don’t you?” 

“Yes .” Vehnrix admitted, eagerly, willingly. “Nine hells , I do.” 

By the time they made camp for the night Vehnrix was certain one more touch would set him off for good. Gale had kept him on the edge for the last jaunt of their day, never pushing too far, but never letting him rest either. It was a new side to him, one that was more cunning and sly than Gale often let on. Vehnrix loved it, loved that Gale was showing him more of himself, that he was comfortable enough to tease and play. 

But now, their tent set up and the two of them blissfully alone for the first time since they’d woken this morning, Vehnrix had other things on his mind than telling Gale how happy he was. 

He pressed himself against Gale the instant the tent flap closed behind them. His hands wrapped around, pulling Gale tight. The heat of his body spread, and he opened his mouth to speak when he felt the mage hand return.

“Still?” He whined, his hips bucking into the invisible hand, into Gale’s body pressed close. His breath caught, his body taut. All the tension wound up in him from the day uncoiling too rapidly to stall, too weighty to stop. “Gale, fuck , you have — shit.”

Vehnrix buried his face into Gale’s shoulder as he shuddered, finally, finally releasing all the built up pleasure. He bit down on the fabric of Gale’s robe, muffling the low, long moan that tore from his throat. Sticky warmth coated his cock, seeping through the clothes he still wore. 

“Oh, I may have overdone it, haven’t I?” Gale’s voice was light, laughter hiding just beneath his words. His arms slipped around Vehnrix, holding him just as tight. He kissed the tip of his ear, then his cheek. “Lesson thoroughly learned.”

Vehnrix just huffed out a weak laugh and lifted his face to look at Gale. “No, no, your lesson is just starting,” he teased. “Because now it’s my turn.”

[albatmobile]

The Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Chapter 7

𓅪 After not hearing from Roy or Jason for five years, you suddenly find yourself taking in extra income as a babysitter for Roy and Jason's child.

𓅪 Rated: M | 7k  includes: bumping into Tim, arsenal and red hood “save you” from a robbery, Lian heart to heart, opening up to Jayroy, Bed sharing what more can I say?

fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist]

Chapter Seven: There is a Light | ao3 - wattpad

Once Roy leaves, Lian begs you to cook. You end up deciding to make scones so she can also have them for tomorrow.  

“Are you sleeping over again?” she asks cutely.

You chuckle, ruffling her hair a bit, “That was by accident, but no. You already have two dads; you don’t need me here too.”

“I only have one dad.”

There it is again.

“Why do you keep saying that when you have two?” you ask.

“Oh, you mean daddy?” She's looking at you like you're slow.

“Yes, dad, daddy, whatever! You have two dads, though, right?”

She gives you a tiny head tilt. “No, just one,” she startles you by holding up a singular finger directly in front of your face, “my dad.”

You push her finger away lightly with a snort, “Alright. One dad it is, then.” 

You're definitely bringing this up to Roy and Jason later. You hope in bringing it up that they'll tell you why they’d contacted you in the first place if this isn’t even their kid. All things considered, Lian looks absolutely nothing like either of them.

“You keep promising me a real tea party.” 

You know where this is going. Ever since you’d shown her videos of baristas making specialty tea drinks, she’s wanted to experience one for herself.

“What do you mean? We do have real tea parties,” you try to reason with her.

“That’s apple juice." She looks at you like you're dumb. "Maybe if I were three, I wouldn’t know the difference.”

You can’t help but guffaw, imagining a toddler Damian saying something similar. 

“You want tea?” She bobs her little head up and down at your question. “Alright, let’s go get tea.”

You’ll never say no to a quick caffeine boost, even if it is already practically dusk. That and you're still equipped in Roy’s highly questionable outfit.

You take her to the small coffee shop just down the street where you'd spent endless hours studying during your year at GSU, figuring it’d be good and cheap enough for the both of you. Lian’s content to skip beside you the entire way, humming some theme song adorably enough to bring a smile to your face. Inside, there’s a young barista behind the counter who's taking an order for a dark-haired man. Over in the back corner booth sits a group of four older gentlemen who seem to be deep in conversation.

You let Lian order when it comes time, but not before you can ask if they offer decaf. The barista nods, showing you the selection of decaffeinated tea. Lian, on her tip-toes, picks which two she wants, considering she’s probably going to want to try yours too (aka end up drinking it all, too).

Before you can finish collecting your change, your cups are set down at the pick-up counter. 

Considering all the barista has to do is pour hot water and add the tea pouch, your order comes out while the man in front of you in line is still waiting on his coffee. He silently steps back to let you grab your cups. When you turn around with your drinks, you nearly spill them all over a flustered Tim Drake. 

You gasp at the sight of him. How many years has it been?

You notice with great amusement that Tim’s less focused on the fact that he almost had two cups of boiling hot tea spilled on him and is, instead, short-circuiting at the sight of your erect nipples through Roy’s provocative shirt. 

You figured it would probably be best to leave the booty shorts at home after what happened during your last stroll in them. Instead, you elected to change into the oversized sweats Roy’d given you. 

Watching Tim eye you up and down, greedily absorbing your form into his memory, you hear Stephanie’s words ringing true in your head. You wonder if maybe some of the other things they said were true then, too...

After a few seconds have passed and he’s done taking you in with dark cheeks, he looks down at your side. 

“Woah, guess I missed a lot these past few years,” Tim says after he catches site of the little girl running in circles around you. It’s then that glances from Lian to you with a calculating gaze. “You guys look nothing alike.”

“That’s because I’m the babysitter,” you say. “This is Roy and Jason’s kid.”

“Jason has a kid?” Tim rubs at the nonexistent wrinkles on his forehead. “Guess I’ve been out of that loop for too long.”

You shrug, understanding that it’s just something that happens when you get older. 

“Supposedly, but she keeps saying she just has one dad, so who really knows.” Lian scurries off at this point to get the biggest booth in the whole store for just the two of you, but it seems empty enough that it wouldn’t be an issue. After all, it's just you, Lian, Tim, the barista and the group of guys in the entire place. “Anyway, what’ve you been up to? Have you and Bernard moved in together yet?”

“Ah, yeah. That.” You tilt your head in confusion at his words. “We broke up a little over a year ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said genuinely. You hadn’t meant to bring up anything uncomfortable.

“It’s not like Damian keeps tabs on me enough to let you know, so,” he trails off awkwardly. 

You wince, feeling the ever-present wall still very much present between them. You think back on your past interactions with Bernard before shifting to how Stephanie's words from the restaurant ring true in this case too. 

Bernard has always had an unhealthy dose of jealousy. Maybe Tim had finally had enough. Bernard's effects still obviously linger, though, with how difficult it is to catch up with each other like how you used to.

“Well, I could reach out to you…” Is it still considered awkward? “If that’s okay, that is,” you add quickly, not wanting to overstep.

You and Tim had been so close until Bernard came into the picture. Ever since his appearance, it'd been radio silence. Each time you tried to talk to Tim, Bernard was always somehow there, swooping in with an excuse for Tim to leave.

“For sure,” Tim says with one of his signature sweet smiles, handing you his phone to put your number into. “We still haven’t gone on that photo shoot.” You're drawing a blank, unable to remember what he's talking about when it hits you- your old Red Robin fanblog.

“Oh, god. I totally forgot about those photos.” You shake your head in embarrassment, remembering how you'd shown Tim your ass-shot collection of Red Robin. “I haven’t really been out since then, to be honest.” 

You’d mostly been preoccupied with graduating, getting a job and paying bills. You've been so concentrated on maintaining financial stability that everything else somehow finds its way to the back burner. Anything to avoid the burden your parents have placed upon you.

“Not a Red Robin fangirl anymore?” He looks at you doubtfully.

"Please," you laughed, “the more I’m coming into contact with these vigilantes, the less I'm enjoying the comics."

“Ah.” He smiles lightly, causing his deep blue eyes to crinkle. "They say never meet your heroes, right?”

You laughed again, “Seriously.”

“Hey!” Lian calls your name. You look over to see her waving at you. “Bring your dad over here.”

You and Tim burst out laughing and offer him a way out of it. “I think he’s got a paper to work on, Lian. Tim has to get going.” Tim's carrying his backpack and laptop with him- typical Tim Drake study gear. “You’re still at GSU?”

“Not all of us can be super-freaky hacker geniuses like you and skip out on three years of college,” he says as he points to his Gotham State University course syllabus. “I’m graduating later this year, so I’ll get out somewhat early.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard that nickname yet," you giggle at his description of you. "I like it a lot, though.”

“Super-freaky hacker genius who’s also psychic because I do actually have a paper that’s due in,” he looks down at his silver Rolex and then back at you, “t-minus two hours? So, wish me luck!” He gives you a half hug with his computer secured in the other arm before going over and giving Lian a high-five. “See ya, cutie.” She gives him an adorable toothy grin that you can tell melts Tim’s heart. “One thing I know for sure is that nothing this sweet could’ve come from Jason.”

“Don’t I know it,” you concur.

After this, Tim leaves with a final wave. You let Lian sit to finish her tea before making to leave as well.

You make it to the threshold of the entrance when the doors burst open to reveal two unruly-looking men in long coats and hats walking in. 

It definitely looks like trouble. 

Your first thought is to just leave. You are at the entrance and everything. One thing stops you, though. A quick glance at the sidewalk outside shows a man in similar attire posted up right next to the entrance, essentially blocking it off.

You don’t hesitate to grab Lian’s hand and hightail it to the bathroom just as you see the two men unveil their semi-automatic rifles to the extremely frightened barista. 

You feel guilt settle in the minute milliseconds between the rapid beats of your heart, shifting into autopilot with only one thought: keep Lian safe.

You click the bathroom door shut as quietly as you can and turn to her tearful eyes. 

You put a finger over your mouth and ‘shh.' She repeats your action with a wobbly mouth. You give her a thumbs up and start to look around for anything you could possibly use to your advantage, just like the Waynes had taught you. You sigh, looking around, only finding paper towels, toilet paper rolls and a trashcan.

Trashcan! 

You quietly remove the top of it and place Lian into it before pressing your ear against the bathroom door. Upon placing your ear on the wood, you startle backward, nearly tripping in the process as the thugs begin to fire off a couple of rounds. You pull yourself together, using the noise to cover up the sound of you placing the lid back over the trashcan and go to the sink to grab a stack of paper towels to dump on her head to conceal her further.

You duck quickly when a stray bullet comes barreling through the door. The bouncing bullet begins to ricochet until it hits the porcelain base of the toilet, shattering part of it upon contact while jostling the tank lid on top. This is definitely something you can use.

During the next round of bullets, you use as noise to cover up the removal of the hefty porcelain lid. In the meantime, you ready yourself to smack the shit out of anyone who dares to fuck with the door… Which ends up being way sooner than you expected. 

Your heart sputters when the door handle begins to jiggle, then drops when whoever's out there begins to kick it in.

You count the seconds in between each kick and prepare to unlock the door in between them. You estimate an average of 3-4 seconds in between each and steel yourself when you unlock the lock and throw the door open. You back up just in time to miss the strong kick that's sent toward the now-opened door and smash the toilet tank lid right on top of the intruder’s familiar red helmet.

Red Hood.

By the time you realize it's him, it's too late. The lid is already shattering across his head, leaving him visibly dazed by your unexpected attack.

A man with a bionic arm complete with a crossbow frantically makes his way over to you. He briefly looks down at his partner before acknowledging you. “Anyone else in here?”

You squint at his panicked voice, wondering how he knew to ask. “Are you with the guys robbing the place?” you respond cautiously.

You’ve never seen his suit before.

“Does it look like it?” He gestures down to his obnoxious red suit, placing a gentle hand against your forehead. “You look a bit flushed. Maybe you should sit down.”

You feel your own forehead and notice that, yes, you are extremely warm. It probably has nothing to do with his ripped arm and crazy hot bionic one that leaves you captivated. Yeah, nothing…

You don’t mean to stare, but it’s truly an insane prosthetic.

“It looks like it could have a laser gun or something,” you say, biting lightly at your lower lip, nodding your head in its direction. He looks at you, then looks down at it like he’s making sure you’re talking about his arm. “You’re like Cyborg or, no, wait- Bucky Barnes.” You can’t help but internally swoon at the imagery of the Winter Solider. 

Definitely, Bucky.

“Enough drooling, kid, you’re gonna make me blush. It's just Arsenal.” He rubs slightly self-consciously at the metallic forearm currently under your inspection as you take in his name. “Now, are there any others in here?”

You sigh. You don't necessarily consider Red Hood, who's currently pulling himself off the ground, a threat. This Arsenal dude, though you don't exactly know much about him, doesn't seem to be one either. 

You hastily decide you can trust them as you hesitantly retreat back into the bathroom to pull Lian from the trash. Once she's out, you remove a stray paper towel from her hair, quickly checking her over for any injuries. To everyone's surprise, she reaches out toward the men in front of you like she's going to hug them. 

Okay, no. Nope. They may not be threats, but they're also definitely not touching Lian. You quickly hug her to your side.

“Lian, stop. We don’t touch strange men!” She looks at you like you’re crazy and attempts to reach for Arsenal again. “Lian, stop!” you chastise, wasting no time in picking her up to prevent her from trying it again. “I get you tea and this is how you repay me?” You boop her on the nose, causing her to laugh. “And you,” you point to Red Hood, “are you stalking me?”

"Woah, there," he holds up his hands defensively, “presumptuous of you to think I’d even remember you.”

"But you do," you challenge him with a gaze so strong that he has no choice but to give in to it. “How could you not?”

His partner audibly gulps, but Red Hood remains his ever-elusive self.

“Nice to see you in somewhat normal clothes, I guess.” At his admission, you cover your nipples by adjusting Lian in front of your chest. “Your kid?” He motions to Lian, who giggles at his tiny wave to her.

“Daddy!” she says, leaving you to flush again.

“Seems like she’s more yours than mine. I’m so sorry, I don’t know why she’s acting like this.” You look down at her with a look that says, ‘please be normal,’ “Lian, what is going on with you today?” 

You tickle the tip of her nose until she retaliates with attempted bites, eventually coming a little too close to actually chomping down on your finger.

Red Hood saves the day again when he reaches over to let her bite at his gloved hand. “She’s cute,” is all he says.

“Again, not mine, but thanks.” You look between the two vigilantes, then at the robbers who are tied up and knocked out on the ground. “Alright, well, nice seeing you again, and, uh,” you casually step over piles of rubble and discarded goons as you make your way toward the entrance with Lian still in your arms, “don’t follow me home. Awesome, ‘kay, bye!”

“Woah, wait there, missy.” The voice comes from the arrow dude whose name you’ve already forgotten. You’ll have to remind yourself to look up ‘bionic crossbow arrow vigilante’ later. “We can’t just let you walk off like that. There could still be trouble out there. At least save us the trouble of saving you later and let us walk you home.”

You feel like he's fucking with you, but you know nothing about him, so you aren’t exactly sure. 

With Lian constantly reaching out for him, all you want to do is get away from these two, regardless of how they’d helped you.

“It’s daylight and it’s not happening. Take a hike.” 

You sigh when you feel their bulky presence behind you as you set off in the opposite direction, hoping Red Hood won’t notice or remember, but, of course, he does.

“I think you’re supposed to be going in the opposite direction,” he chastises you playfully. Well, as playfully as he can through his voice modulator. He leans in over the shoulder where Lian isn’t perched over to warn, “Wouldn’t want to lead me on another goose chase, now would we, sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that.” You cringe away from him and hold Lian closer to your chest.

The arrow dude, whose name still escapes you, pulls Red Hood back towards him with a commanding bionic grip. “Stop being a creep, dude,” you catch him lowering his voice to reprimand his partner for scaring you off.

You don’t want to admit to yourself how much the arm is doing it for you, but that was when you were trying to stay focused on keeping Lian and yourself safe. Now, though? Now you can't help but bite your lip at the thought of Roy’s own prosthetic arm.

Actually, now that you think about it, it seems to be the exact same color as Roy’s. You turn back with a squint to watch them bickering.

“Oh, that’s rich,” comes Red Hood’s signature robotic tone. 

You can hear them arguing now in hushed tones behind you as they try to agree on a new approach. This is how you reluctantly decide to let them trail behind you as you walk them back to Roy and Jason’s apartment. The exact same place Red Hood had attempted to drop you off after your run-in, for lack of better terms, in the alley.

When you arrive, you hope they’ll take the hint to fuck off, but they don’t. More and more, you're coming to realize these costumed-fucks are nothing like the comics modeled after them. No. Rather, they're insanely invasive.

“Thanks for the help and all, I guess,” you offer. They both look at you funny, well, you're only able to read arrow's face on account of being unable to see through Red Hood’s helmet. “Have a great day,” you say before shuffling Lian toward the safety of the apartment building.

Yes, reading comic books and experiencing vigilantes in real life are seriously two different stories. After all, you can’t just tell someone’s motive by looking at them, so why should you put any more trust into them than necessary?

“Do you need any money?”

You startle from your thoughts instantly. “Excuse me?” 

You turn on your heel to glare at the offending vigilante. It’d been the arrow dude who'd spoken.

The fuck do you look like? Charity? Besides, you had the whole thing under control… Mostly.

“I don’t know why I said that," he sputters out sheepishly, but it's too late. You're pissed. "I’m sorry,” he adds quietly.

You give them an incredulous glare, not bothering to respond as you slam the apartment building's door shut behind you. You check behind yourself once inside with a stern gaze to make sure neither are following you, but they remain exactly where they are. Whatever.

You can’t believe the audacity of these motherfuckers.

As soon as you get back to their unit, you call Roy to let him know what happened and to assure him that you’re both safe.

“That’s horrible. Who saved you?”

“Well, I mainly did,” you boast, leaving him to laugh easily. “But Red Hood and some arrow dude, too, that I don’t know.” You hear Jason cackling in the background and begin to chuckle a bit in confusion. “What?”

Jason’s voice cuts through, “Forget it, babe.”

You draw in a quick breath at Jason’s nickname, hoping your slip-up isn’t audible enough over the phone for him to be able to hear it.

“We’ll be back soon," he reassures you. "Just stay put.”

You nod in relief before realizing they can’t see you. “Sounds good.” 

You didn’t realize you’d begun to shake until you couldn’t steady your index finger enough to click ‘end.’

If you're feeling like this, how is Lian faring?

“How are you holding up? That was really scary today at our tea party.”

 “It was too loud,” she agrees by covering her ears with her hands. 

You rub gently at her tiny shoulder. “I’m really sorry. You can always talk about how you're feeling with me,” you sigh, not really knowing what else to say. “I want you to know that I will always protect you no matter what, just like today. We’re in this together." 

"We are?" she asks. 

"You helped me today, too.”

God, you really don’t know how to do this comforting thing.

“I did?” Her eyes gleam back at yours.

You think back to how her presence alone forced you into your training mindset, allowing you to keep a cool head to attack the situation.

“You kept me calm and helped me think of a plan. Plus, you followed all of my instructions by keeping quiet, which is all I could’ve asked for from you,” you say as you run your fingers through her short, inky hair. “You're as brave as Superboy.”

She beams toothily at you. “You think?”

“For sure.” You ruffle her hair lightly with a smile. “Now, do you want to help me cook dinner before your dad comes home?” You’d given up on saying ‘dads’ because she'd only correct you that she only has one dad.

“And scones,” she says as she follows you into the kitchen, where the two of you go through the motions of cooking enchiladas and chocolate chip scones. An odd combo for an odd day. 

You think about Jason and Roy and decide that it won’t be too much more trouble to make a few quiches as well. God, you spoil them. Well, anything to get your mind off of...

You know that if you feel this stressed, she must be feeling it ten times over for being so much younger. After your conversation earlier, it's clear that she understands enough about what happened to be affected by the robbery and those feelings don't just go away after one talk.

As dinner nears completion, you're taking the scones and quiches out of the oven when Lian suddenly stops and looks at you. 

“Do you think I can sit down?”

“Of course,” you say, placing the tray of scones on the stovetop to cool before taking the oven mitt off to guide her to the couch. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel tired.” She looks like she wants to say more and after some gentle coaxing, she does. “I feel scared and that makes me weak.”

Damn.

How old was she again?

“You’re probably feeling drained from the stressful moment we had today, but that’s totally normal.” You can’t deny the ever-present dull headache you'd acquired nor how sore your body feels after the extended release of adrenaline that now leaves you feeling empty. “And being scared does not make you weak. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

“I think you’re brave,” she says shyly.

“Thank you.” You hear the timer buzz and you pat her shoulder. “I’m gonna go get you a plate, then we can do an early bedtime story, okay?” you yawn as you stretch and get up from the couch.

“Can you turn on Superboy?” That was her way of asking you to turn on Young Justice. You nod, grabbing the remote to turn it on. When the TV blinks to life, Speedy and Robin are on screen, followed by some girl in an odd mask with sais for weapons. “Those are my parents,” she insists while pointing at the screen, causing you to laugh.

“You and me both, kid.” 

Kids say the weirdest shit, though you can't deny that it helps bring your mood up a bit.

You get her a plate and sit down and watch the episode with her where she dozes off halfway through finishing. You discard your plates in the sink and shuffle her off to get ready for bed while you clean up.

You think she’s asleep when you get to her room and are partially hoping she is because you’re ready to drop any moment yourself, but she has a book already picked out for you. You let out a soft laugh when she sleepily forces the book into your hand. The one she picked out is a short book, it really is, but it’s so mind-numbingly repetitive that four pages in, you’re falling asleep alongside Lian.

You awaken with a snort to the sounds of pained grunting just in time for Roy and Jason to see you with drool dripping down your chin and the book page that's still stuck to your cheek. You all shoot each other questioning glances before painfully ripping the page from your skin. You yawn as you get up to place the book back on Lian’s bookcase, wiping at the remaining spit on your face.

You watch Roy limp around and shoot him a questioning glance that Jason answers as soon as you shut Lian’s door.

“It was a rough night,” Jason groans tiredly, smacking Roy on the ass, who, in turn, groans in pain. 

Your mouth drops at the sight in front of you and you quickly shut it, hoping it was before either of them could notice. You all walk, well, Roy limps, into the kitchen, where they earnestly begin digging into the leftovers you'd made with fervor.

Staring across the kitchen island at them, you can see that they're both covered in impressions of something on their faces, with spatters of dirt and blood all over their clothes, but you don’t push. If they're allowing you to see this much into whatever this is, you can only take it to mean that it’s them trying to break down their walls a bit with you. 

You refuse to jeopardize anything by overstepping.

“Us too,” you remind them gently.

The playful attitude is sucked from the air instantly. Jason’s fork stills. “How are you holding up?”

You shrug. 

It seems like a new habit of yours to run into trouble like this, but it doesn't mean you're handling it any better than before. “I was really worried something was going to happen to her and that I'd have to tell you guys that I let you down…” You're allowing yourself to be completely vulnerable with them.

They both come to your side instantly, well, as instantly as Roy can with whatever's going on with his leg, to wrap you up into their arms. You immediately allow yourself to melt in their grasp.

“You could never let us down as long as you live.”

“You truly care about her and we can see that,” Roy says, rubbing gently at your back.

“Of course, I always want to do right by you and your family.” You lean your head on his shoulder, quickly realizing that it’s not metal. Hmm. You attempt to play it cool, but you must’ve had a moment of hesitation at the contact that Roy interprets as rejection and goes to pull away. You're having none of this, though and pull him back before continuing where you’d left off. “I told her that today, too. I want to be able to protect her in any way I can.”

You really mean it after all they’d both done for you over the years. Even if they'd disappeared for so long, it doesn’t negate all the other times they and their families had been there for you when your own wasn’t.

Roy whispers your name, “You have no idea what it means to hear that from you.”

You blush at his sincerity, further weakening when you see Jason’s eyes soften when they meet your own. 

“You’re all my family,” you try to play your words off, but it’s hard when tears have already wedged their ugly way into your throat. “No matter what, I’ll always be around.” Even if you guys weren’t always around, goes unsaid. You change the subject. “I think the closest you guys came to losing your daughter today wasn’t the robbery. It was the vigilantes who came in at the end,” you joke. “She was seriously trying to pawn herself off to Red Hood and that arrow guy.”

Roy groans as Jason cackles, “I think the other dude’s name is Speedy.” Jason barely winces at the punch Roy throws his way and, if anything, only serves to make him howl louder.

You think back to the Speedy that ran around Star City while you were living there and compared it to the dude that saved you today.

“Mmm, I don’t think so. I’ve seen Speedy and this looked nothing like him.” You short circuit, attempting to recall his bionic arm to compare to Roy’s, but it’s tilted in just a way that keeps his hand out of your line of vision. Weird. “He had a really sick arm, just like Roy’s hand,” you start slowly, watching them but ultimately don't find anything suspicious about either of their reactions.

“That’s cool,” Jason says.

“Indeed, cool,” you respond, completing your old inside joke. He smiles lightly, seeming to pick up on it instantly.

“All this attention is making lil’ ol’ me blush.” Roy leans over and kisses Jason over you, unwittingly filling your head with thoughts of what may or may not have happened in the library all those years ago.

You still aren’t buying it.

You push at Roy’s stomach lightly, mindful of whatever injury he may have, to shift him off of you. “You can kiss and smack each other’s asses all you want, but your kid ratted you guys out.”

“How so?” Roy looks nervous. At the same time, Jason tenses.

You look between them awkwardly, not understanding why they've reacted in such a way unless they know that you're about to reveal some real shit.

“She says she only has one dad still.” you raise a confident brow, challenging them to prove you wrong this time. “And she keeps saying Red Arrow and the Cheshire lady from Young Justice are her parents,” you snort, expecting them to do the same. Instead, they elect to stare at you as if you've just uncovered some crazy secret, but that can't be it… Oh, shit. They're mad you let her watch something violent. Fuck. “What? I figured because it was on Cartoon Network it would be fine for her to watch…” you trail off uncertainly.

They both seem to breathe sighs of relief.

“Oh,” Roy says simply.

“Oh?” you squint at him.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Jason mocks before answering. “She calls me daddy.”

You choke at his casual use of a word that instantly gets you hot and bothered. So much so, that you don’t even care that he completely blew past your other piece of evidence.

Thinking back now, you remember all the times Lian had technically corrected you on dad and daddy.

You fucked up.

“Daddy?” you parrot dumbly.

“Yeah, just like that,” his deep voice reverberates deeply in the small space, which appears to be closing in with each word he forms.

You gulp, feeling a steady heat growing from your cheeks all the way down to the elastic band of Stephanie’s shorts.

“Alright, guess that solves it,” you play it off and tug self-consciously at Roy’s ‘World’s Sluttiest Dad’ t-shirt.

“Do you not want us to be together or something, princess?” Roy asks suddenly, throwing you off-guard.

You shake your head quickly to dispel any further awkwardness. He's completely misunderstood your angle.

“Did I say that?” You look at them incredulously, causing them to back up with hands held up in surrender instantly. “I’m still just trying to make sense of the whole situation.”

And make sense of your unsaid past and, now apparent, present feelings for both of them.

They may have left you, but the feelings they cursed you with never did. You know one thing: you aren't going to be the first one to open up.

It's all in their hands, seeing as you're growing tired of all the mixed signals and the even greater fact that you're no homewrecker. You know deep down that your delusional self probably made this whole thing up from the start, anyway, but you still can’t find it within yourself to come face to face with this fact just yet.

It'll crush you.

You reckon that Roy's always been a flirt, so he obviously never meant anything and Jason... Well, Jason was probably just picking on you, like how he picked on Damian. He probably thinks of you as an annoying little sister. God, how you hoped your obvious crush on him would wane with the years, but it never did.

You don’t want to make an embarrassment of yourself by reading into something that's not even there.

“You seem a bit tense,” Roy tries.

“Do I, Roy?” your response is completely sarcastic. You sigh, slumping a bit, “It’s hard getting used to the hours you need me for. I keep falling asleep at the weirdest times in the weirdest positions.” You think back to the other night when you’d fallen asleep on one of their towels. Hell, even back to just a few minutes ago in Lian's room.

They look a bit guilty, realizing that they've been calling you over randomly to come babysit for an untold number of hours a night and that it's probably not fair.

They’d also conveniently forgotten you're a young woman, you probably have other shit you want to do on a Saturday night (aka tonight). According to your usual weekend plans, you should be hanging out on Damian’s yacht... Not babysitting. No offense, Lian.

“We didn’t even think about that,” Roy says. He then peers over at Jason with a look Jason seems to respond to, but you’re clueless as to what nonverbal conversation they’re holding.

“We’re sorry.” They both seem earnest enough that you start to feel bad for even bringing the complaint up.

You wave them off, seeing as it isn’t the main problem you're plighted by, but you can’t let them know that. “It’s good. I’m just stressed.” 

It's been a long week, to say the least and today's been the cherry on top of it all.

Roy nods understandingly. “You've been attacked twice. I’m sure with your past, it must be difficult.”

Jason’s eyes hold your own as he addresses you, “We’re always here to, you know, talk and stuff if you want to.”

As hard as it is to comfort someone else, it's even harder to allow others to comfort you. You've been used to dealing with shit on your own ever since you can remember.

It seems like there's so much more he wants to say but can’t bring himself to.

You wonder if he's going to mention all the time they’d spent away, but you're only met with the usual dead end. If they're going to put up a wall, you'd be stupid not to put one up, too. After all, you aren’t going to allow yourself to get hurt by them again. You'll make sure of it.

“What are you thinking about?” 

You look up guiltily at Roy, not realizing your thoughts have been so transparent.

“Just a lot happened today. I’m just tired.” Your stomach sinks at the memory of being held at gunpoint, then further when you realize you can't call your best friend to tell him about it. Damian still hadn't bothered to reach out to you since sending you a pic of what he was planning to wear on the yacht before you’d left.

It feels like a sucker punch knowing Damian really thinks those things about you and hates you enough to say them to your face. He’s been the person you’ve trusted and confided in for so long and now you're at a true loss of support.

You’d known he liked you at some point, but that still couldn’t be, right?

You bury your head in your palms with a loud sigh, “Oh my god, I’m so fucking stupid.” You still and look at Roy and Jason through the slits between your fingers and wince. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Care to share with the class?” Roy asks.

They put up a wall, you put up a wall.

It isn’t yours to share with them if they won’t share… well, anything with you.

“You have your stuff to hide, I have mine.”

Speaking of hiding, you check to see if Roy’s hand is visible enough to compare it to arrow man's, but it’s still secured behind his back, obscuring it from sight. It's suspicious, especially when there’s still no answer for his limp or their constant, post-work disheveled appearances.

“It’s not like we’re trying to hide it from you,” Jason tries to reason with you, but you don’t seem to want to listen. “If we could tell you, we would in a heartbeat. Eventually, we will,” he hesitates, looking to Roy, who seems shocked that he’s even saying any of this.

You can’t tell if it's butterflies or an uneasy warning, but your stomach spurs into a flurry of flips. It's like you're finally having an actual conversation with them and they're somewhat opening up to you. Maybe you can do the same? 

Should you, though?

Jason places a hand on the place where your thigh meets your skirt and rubs circles. You gasp at the unexpected contact, immediately shifting to Roy to assess his reaction to it. He pays it no mind, merely bringing his arm to rub up and down the expanse of your back.

“We’re all tired,” Roy says. As if on cue, you yawn loudly and sheepishly cover your mouth. “How would you like to sleep in an actual bed tonight?” 

You gawk.

This is dangerous, you realize- no, convince yourself. Really dangerous. Close quarters like this could get you in far deeper than you've ever imagined, but were you going to go through with it? Yes.

Fuck.

What exactly did they want from you? 

Damian’s cruel words reverberate around in the back of your mind as you think through your answer. Either A. Go home to your sketch apartment and twin bed, or B. Sleep in a king-sized bed with two of the hottest guys you knew and potentially ruin whatever remained of your dismal friendship.

It's B. You're picking B. Who are you kidding?

“As long as I can have a different sleep shirt,” you say, tugging at the offending fabric with distaste.

“Bet you want Jason’s shirt,” Roy pouts at you, but there's a devilish glint blatantly hidden in the depths of his verdant eyes.

You blush. “Do not.” You quickly rephrase, “I do not care either way.”

“I’ll get you a shirt, babe, unless you want my boxers too.” He’s absolutely fucking with you and Roy’s just letting him. Even going so far as to join in.

Two, well, three can play this game.

“If you wouldn’t mind.” You shrug innocently. “I’ve been going commando since I got here. I wouldn’t want to get cooties on your sheets.” 

Both of them sputter at your confession, but Roy recovers faster to howl with tears of laughter.

“Coochie cooties,” he says with visible tears in his eyes

You choke. 

You expected the joke, but hearing him losing it bad enough that Jason’s deadpan face tells him that it’s not even funny, you can’t help but join in with mirthful tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

“You guys are incorrigible,” Jason snorts, shaking his head at the pathetic sight in front of him. “When you’re done being slap-happy idiots, meet me in the bedroom.” You stop laughing immediately, noticing the way his eyes trace down the curves of your body ever so slightly. He sees you watching and watch as his Adam's apple bobs slightly before turning on his heel and muttering, “Fucking losers.”

“Well, you heard the man,” Roy says as he smacks lightly at your hip. 

You jump off the stool to follow after Jason hoping neither of them can see how badly you’re tensing up. It's way too intimate and you hate how you picture yourself waking up next to them and doing something in their bed other than just sleeping.

You feel wetness leaking onto your bare thighs and hope Roy would have the decency not to look at the decent-sized wet patch you’d left on his light gray sweats, but of course, he can’t let it go. 

“Did you piss yourself during the robbery, or are you just really happy to see us?”

You nearly dislocate your shoulders as you attempt to cover your crotch with both of your hands as red stains your bright cheeks. “I can’t even think of a response right now because I’m so disgusted,” you groan, wrinkling your nose at him but eventually giggle a bit when he starts laughing.

“Change in here,” Jason says, handing you a thin white shirt. 

The light fabric strangely reminds you of the one he'd given to you all those years ago when you'd been forced to help clean up after the party. You doubt he put that much thought into his PJ choice for you, though. You eye the cotton boxers he's included, which have a string tie for you to adjust so they’ll actually stay up around your waist. 

Sick.

You quickly go to their bathroom and snoop around to see if either of them has a skincare routine.

Negative.

You need supplies here and stat.

How do men get away with not using moisturizer?

They do, however, have a spare toothbrush that you snag and use before hopping onto their quicksand-esque mattress. You sink into it to the point you have to crawl on your hands and knees up to the pillows where they're lying. 

“This bed is a fucking workout,” you pant as you move in between their shirtless bodies. 

You take a moment to catch your breath, sitting back with your claves underneath you and resting your hands on your splayed-out thighs. Suddenly, you short-circuit as you second-guess your decision to stay when you can clearly see the dangerous looks lit up in their eyes.

You're playing with fire. Do you really want to get burned?

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Jason rolls over toward the window and turns off the light, continuing to face away. You pout slightly, taking it as rejection even though he was the one to suggest this. Roy seems to pick up on your train of thought and draws you from it. He pats at the space between them with his non-prosthetic hand to beckon you closer while his other arm remains covered by the duvet and the darkness of the room.

You hesitate once more before waddling over on your knees to get underneath the covers.

“Oh, damn!” Roy instantly jumps away as your legs make contact with his hairy ones. “Why are your legs that cold?”

Jason snorts. You see the back of his silhouette shift up and down in tandem with the noise.

“Both of you are fucking lizards or something. Am I the only one at a normal 98.6? Fuck, man.” But, eventually, read: reluctantly, he lets you steal the warmth of his leg and you fall asleep to the combined sound of their breathing.

A/N: I wrote the toilet tank lid scene then watched IT and saw it in a scene w beverly and i was like o.o

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[savage-rhi]

Mending Shadows // Chapter 11

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

As soon as Ardyn closed the doors to his residence, he pressed his back to the wooden frame. An irate sigh coursed through him as he could feel his phone blowing up in his left jacket pocket. He wanted nothing more than to hit a wall, however, he couldn’t afford to cause a scene. Not when there were several Imperial Help and guardsmen lurking about the halls. 

Rubbing his forehead, Ardyn lingered on Y/N’s last remark in the bathroom. The same guilt he had while at Verstael’s lab bubbled up inside of him. He wasn’t one to feel remorse like this, and it troubled Ardyn a great deal. Before it could consume him further, he looked up and noticed the Imperial Help he had dismissed from Y/N’s side. She was humming a faint tune, somehow off key, and Ardyn could scarcely believe it. 

An idea began to brew while he observed the Imperial Help rearranging some plants near one of the grand windows, looking out into Gralea. Ardyn wanted to limit Y/N to himself given their precarious partnership, but he knew that wouldn’t last forever; not when he was going to primp them into becoming an imperial icon. Then there was his duties as Chancellor. He had more than enough missing assignments to last a lifetime after his absence, which didn't leave much wiggle room to be at Y/N’s side minus the time he had painstakingly carved out. 

There was also a sinking thought that dwelled in Ardyn’s heart: he didn’t want Y/N to feel isolated from the world. As much as he held bitterness toward them for past transgressions, he dare not put them through anything similar to what he endured at Angelgard. 

Thus, Ardyn eyeballed the Imperial Help. He raised his brow every so often at her odd mannerisms while she cleaned. He could tell she was clumsy. Not someone he would stake counting on for his personal use, but he tried to keep in mind that Y/N seemed at ease with her presence. Keeping Y/N complacent and content was what mattered the most.

He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, then decided to make his presence known. 

“My dear,” Ardyn raised his voice. His gaze neutral while he watched the poor woman spin around and stumble, nearly knocking over a tall vase with flowers in it.

“C-Chancellor Izunia!” Tuti exclaimed, quickly brushing her apron and performed the formal cordial head bow. Somehow in between greetings, she managed to almost trip over herself. “Is there something you need, sir?” 

Ardyn furrowed his brows. He was beginning to have second thoughts about this arrangement, but convinced himself that he shouldn’t be quick to judge. 

“How did you get along with my guest who you so kindly helped bathe before my arrival?" 

Tuti raised her brows. Of all the questions he could have asked her, this was quite forward. Then again, she shouldn’t have expected anything less given the rumors that surrounded him. 

“They were nice!” Tuti nodded out of reassurance. “A little sad, and they looked miserable, but I was comfortable in their presence. Do you need me to assist them further?” 

Ardyn grinned. “That’s what I like to hear!” 

“Chancellor?” 

“You see,” Ardyn paused, filtering through his head on how to word his request. Like he had told Y/N earlier, Imperial Help were known gossipers. He needed to be tactful, but honest. “My dear guest isn’t of this land. They are having trouble finding their feet. Since the both of you got on so well, I’d like for you to become their personal keeper.” 

“P-personal keeper?” Tuti made a face, unsure of herself. “Beg of your pardon, Chancellor, but what would that entail?” 

This woman can’t get any more dense… Ardyn thought to himself. He sighed and smiled reassuringly. “It’s a rather simple affair, my dear?” 

“Tuti,” She almost squeaked. “My name is Tuti, sir.” 

“Tuti,” Ardyn repeated it to himself then continued. “If my guest is hungry, you get them food. If they aren’t feeling well, you call for aid on their behalf. If they need someone to rant and rave with, you let them vent. Are we on the same page?” 

“Yes, sir. So essentially,” Tuti raised a brow while her mind combed over his words. “You want me to be an assigned friend?” 

Ardyn shrugged and nodded. “In a manner of speaking, yes. However, there is an extra layer of responsibility to this position, actually, quite a few if I’m being honest.” 

“Sir,” Tuti spoke up shyly. “I’ve been working in the palace for only two years. I don’t have clearance for this sort of assignment, and I don’t think the Palace Warden will approve of something beyond my station.” 

Ardyn chuckled at her expense while hearing the fright in her voice. “Do you fear the warden?” 

“Um, fear is putting it mildly, sir.” Tuti rubbed the back of her neck, unsure if she should be honest with someone of his standing. “I’m-I’m sure you know he’s a no nonsense kind of fella!” 

“Very observant of you. I must say I am relieved I’m not the only one who thinks as such.” Ardyn smirked, watching Tuti begin to ease herself in his presence while she giggled nervously. He rested his right hand upon her shoulder, feeling Tuti freeze up like a doe. 

“At the end of the day, I am the Chancellor am I not? My word would surely override someone such as a Warden. Wouldn’t you be inclined to agree?” 

“Y-yes sir!” Tuti nodded. She felt her face turning red, mostly out of fear. Though his touch didn’t hurt by any stretch, she felt a sense of foreboding. As if Ardyn was letting her know he could easily destroy her life if he so wished. 

Tuti gulped. “What about my current  job position and duties?” 

“Think nothing of it!” Ardyn mused. “I will have a personal chit chat with the Warden and the arrangements will be made without you having to lift a finger!” 

“Okay,” Tuti murmured, not having the strength to challenge someone of his caliber. “Um, is there anything important I should know about your guest while they’re staying in Niflheim?” 

“As a matter of fact, yes. My guest,” Ardyn lowered his voice and leaned in. “Is facing an ailment that none of us should even wish upon our enemies. They are important to the empires research. I’m sure you understand what I am hinting toward.” 

Tuti’s eyes widened in shock. “The star--”

“Shh,” Ardyn put a finger to his lips to silence her. He gave Tuti’s shoulder a squeeze. “You, my dear, are one of only three people in the entirety of Niflheim that know of this. Should I hear slander, or if my guests presence alerts authority on caliber to my calling, I’ll know it was you who squealed. Do we understand each other?” 

Tuti swallowed, feeling her life flash before her very eyes. She nodded quickly to Ardyn’s statement, and froze at a singular thought. “Am I---am I---”

“Infected? No, my dear,” Ardyn shook his head. “My guest cannot spread it. If they could, they wouldn’t have the pleasure of being in my company.” 

Ardyn’s golden eyes lingered over Tuti, making sure he had instilled enough fear into her before he let go of Tuti’s shoulder and straightened his posture. He put on a wholesome smile, acting as if he wasn't menacing mere seconds ago. 

“This will be a grand opportunity for both you and my guest,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact. His smile never waning. “I am counting on you to make Y/N feel most welcome in Niflheim!”

“Certainly, sir!” Tuti gave a thankful bow with her head. 

“Grand,” Ardyn exchanged the same pleasantry in return before he gestured past Tuti. “I must be on my way to a meeting. Whatever tasks you have assigned at the moment, disregard and go back to my chambers. Keep Y/N occupied. I’ll talk to the Palace Warden about my throwing a wrench into your schedule. Good day, Tuti.” 

Ardyn brushed past her and began his journey out of the palace. All the while, Ardyn braced himself for an onslaught of discussion. The phrase “nothing is guaranteed in this life but death and taxes” crossed Ardyn’s mind, and he stifled a laugh, knowing he broke the mold with both subjects. 

At the top of Zegnatus Keep, in the hollow end of the grand imperial room, Ardyn could feel time slipping away bit by bit while he listened to the debates being had. It was such a dreary affair that he caught himself almost dozing off. Nevertheless, Ardyn was poised and focused. He had meticulously tuned out most of what was being said, save for any interesting tidbits he could later exploit or needed to make note of. 

Seldom did Ardyn offer much to the conversation overall, preferring to weigh out his options before committing. That didn’t stop him from making a jest here or there to either lighten up a bad moment, or to throw someone under a bus for humorous expense. Ardyn considered himself quite a snake in this regard, remaining coiled and silent, and only striking when necessary. There was only so much venom to go around after all. 

“Gentlemen, I am proposing that the surplus in Niflheim’s treasury, be allocated to the war efforts.” Ravus, the prince of Tenebrae began while taking the reigns of the conversation to a new subject. 

“And I’m assuming you want a pound of flesh for yourself?” Verstael chuckled from afar, smirking while Ravus cast a brief glare toward him.

The tension between the two men was so thick, that Ardyn was half tempted to tell them both to get a room. He had to stifle a laugh, earning a few raised brows from the group before he went back to listening to Ravus’s proposal. 

“As I was saying before being interrupted,” Ravus cleared his throat. “The surplus couldn’t have come at a better time. As we stand, despite taking over the Western coastlines of Lucis, we remain outnumbered when it comes to ground troops, and it’s been reported to me that the people of Tenebrae on foot are growing weak. They have been without the basics for quite some time. I implore the council, and his excellency,” he bowed his head toward Aldercapt for a brief moment. “To allocate forty percent of the surplus to be distributed to the men and women fighting this war on our behalf.” 

After Ravus made his peace, the councilmen began to talk among themselves. The sudden screech of a chair being moved grabbed everyone’s attention to Verstael, who stood up from the table and smiled at Ravus. 

“Pardon my interrupting,” 

Ardyn looked to the left at his colleague, noting the smile Verstael wore wasn’t one of kindness. It was one of malicious intent. If Ravus was a lion guarding a meal, then Verstael was very much the cunning hyena that would try and steal a morsel from the jungle kings meal.

“As it so happens,” Verstael gestured. “The Research Ministry is in need of more funding. I am in the midst of a breakthrough that will ensure the next generation of magitek soldiers are more formidable than the last. You see, gentlemen of the council, my staff have discovered the faulty gene that has made generations 4 and 5 deteriorate too quickly. It’s a relatively easy fix, however, the equipment to pull off such a large scale upgrade will be costly. I am proposing that the Research Ministry be given eighty percent of the surplus, with the rest going to Tenebrae, out of courtesy to our alliance.” 

“Eighty percent!? Hasn’t the Research Ministry taken enough funds to last several lifetimes?” Ravus, exclaimed while he stood up from the war table, casting a glare to Verstael who simply huffed in annoyance at the accusation. “Chief Besithia, your faction has received enough gil to build a magitek army five times over, while my people are starving in enemy territory!” 

“I mean no disrespect to you nor your country’s patriotism,” Verstael feigned sincerity as he gave an apologetic bow with his head toward Ravus. “However, the majority of the fighters in this war are not humans, but biomechanical soldiers. They will eventually outnumber the Lucians to where your people won’t have to put themselves in danger. I am merely trying to expedite the process so that there is not a huge loss of human life.” 

“What about the men and women currently present?” Ravus gestured bitterly. “Tenebrae has sacrificed much on behalf of the empire, and this war, for the greater good! I wish to ensure this alliance of ours continues to proposer, but I cannot continue to use living people as expendables for machines.” 

Ardyn zeroed in on the conversation, preparing himself to make an entrance. 

“Are you threatening to pull out, Deputy?” One of the councilmen spoke up concerned. 

“I am merely bringing gravity to the situation at hand,” Ravus said in his defense. “Every time there has been a new budget proposal, the majority always goes to the Research Ministry. I mean no accusations, but given how much money is being thrown at Chief Besithia and his staff, I am failing to see why anymore is needed.”

“Are you calling for an audit, dear prince?” Verstael forewarned with a gentle yet firm voice. “By all means, if you’d like to see my receipts, I wouldn’t mind us having a heart to heart. Perhaps I could even give you a tour of one of our new facilities since you seem so skeptical.” 

The underhanded threat was enough to make Ravus learn forward, tempted to crawl across the very table and wring Verstael by his thick neck. Word of mouth throughout Gralea stated that if Verstael invited someone for a lab tour, they were never found again. Ravus had come to find out that it was an open secret. From there, the words between the men and the rest of the council became less strategic and more or less bickering. 

“Excuse me,” Ardyn raised his hand, giving a playful wave while he grinned. “I have an inquiry for our esteemed Deputy Commander!” 

The chattering ceased, while all eyes drifted onto the Chancellor. Even Aldercapt watched intently and smiled. 

“Chancellor,” Ravus addressed Ardyn, giving a curt nod toward his ally. His shoulders tensed. 

Ardyn gave a bow with his head in return and smiled. “Precisely, how many battles have you won?” 

Everyone in the room was silent. The only words exchanged were physical non verbal expressions. Ravus himself was taken aback as he thought it over.

“I’ve won over fifteen, and I have led over twenty five factions into combat. Chancellor Izunia, may I ask why--”

“So you would say you’re quite competent when it comes to fighting?” 

“Yes, as you know I’ve been trained since I was a boy to become a warrior. As heir to Tenebrae, it's my duty to be competent in battle.” Ravus’s firmly stated with caution. “Chancellor Izunia, may I ask why--”

“Precisely how many wars have you won?” Ardyn interrupted. He canted his head curiously toward Ravus. 

There was a long silence among the entire group before Ardyn chuckled. “Has a goblin ripped out your tongue?” 

“I haven’t won a war,” 

“I’m afraid I didn’t catch that, can you speak up?” 

“I haven’t won a war, as of yet.” Ravus bitterly corrected toward the end, now seeing the trap he had unintentionally set up for himself. He glared while Ardyn continued. 

“As of yet,” Ardyn repeated gently, almost out of spite. Some of the councilmen chuckled quietly, while Ardyn observed Ravus grow red in the face. 

“Chancellor Izunia--”

“Deputy Commander,” Ardyn raised his charismatic voice, interrupting once more and smiled. 

“While myself and the rest of the imperial council do not sense an ounce of incompetence in a man such as yourself, my esteemed colleague Chief Besithia has you outmatched in two ways: one, Niflheim is winning this centuries drawn out battle due to the applications Chief Besithia’s staff has created. And secondly, it’s because of these very applications you yourself have made rank up the chain of command. Do pardon the potential insult, but if I so happen to recall, Chief Besithia ensured the empire’s victory over Tenebrae some odd years back thus winning a war. You did say you have yet to win one, so he has you beat there.”

“What is your point, Izunia?” Ravus glared. He was clenching his fists so hard, that his skin was turning a blue tinted opaque. 

“The point is, Ravus, that you have no credentials to justify that huge of a finance to be gifted to your country. However, I admit I could be wrong too!” Ardyn playfully said. His voice flexing to further drive home the point that he couldn’t entirely be trusted. Nevertheless, Ardyn stood up, physically commanding the entire council to gaze upon him. 

“I’d like to kindly propose to his excellency, Emperor Aldercapt, and the councilmen of the treasury to consider letting me run the numbers if only to sate the quarrel between the two gentlemen before us!” 

“Then so be it! Our Chancellor will give the final say to this transgression. I entrust a swift judgement will come along within the month.” Aldercapt exclaimed, not giving anyone in the room the chance to debate or take a vote. It was painfully obvious he was eager to move on from the subject, out of what little tolerance he had for both Ravus and Verstael. 

Ravus didn’t say a word as he sat down, although he didn’t hide his disappointment while he crossed his arms and eyed both Verstael and Ardyn with contempt. He knew damn well what Ardyn’s final decision was going to be, and he didn’t like it one bit. 

“Chancellor Izunia,” Emperor Aldercapt’s croaking voice took hold of everyone, even grasping Ravus out of his self pity. “It’s a blessing from the gods that you are still with us after your terrible malady!” 

Behind Ardyn’s smile, he gritted his teeth at the remark. While Aldercapt wasn’t a deeply religious man, he played everyone else in the council with such religious proclamations. It was a tool Ardyn himself used. 

“You honor me a great deal, excellency,” Ardyn gave a formal bow, taking off his hat and placing it over his heart. He put it back on and took a seat.  

“A pardon Emperor Aldercapt, while we are all grateful for the Chancellor’s return to chambers after taking to illness, the Deputy Commander did bring up a vital point regarding the war that has led into a bigger issue at hand.” One of the councilmen sitting next to Ravus decreed, bringing all eyes onto himself. He swallowed before continuing after no one protested, and stood up so he could project easier. 

“My reputable resources have informed me that Lucis is taking advantage of low morale amongst our human troops and Insomnia’s anti-imperial propaganda is flooding every mainstream outlet across Eos. It has gotten to the point where my colleagues and I have heard whispers that factions in Accordo may be planning rebellion.” 

“As it stands, how much ground are we to lose in Lucis?” Aldercapt asked. 

“More than thirty three percent,” The councilman sighed sadly. “That counts for the coastlines we worked so hard to establish bases near. At the rate we are heading, we can forget about re-establishing rule in Leide and Duscae.” 

The councilmen began to whisper amongst themselves in a slight panic, and Ardyn watched as Aldercapt’s face began to mirror the emotions the men all held. He glanced at Verstael who gave him a faint nod and a smile, knowing it was almost time to pull out the trump card they had carefully crafted together. 

“While we know that the Lucian army in the grand scheme of things isn’t as powerful as us, their resolve to stand together is strong. Unless we can counter their propaganda with something more effective, we may win the war but lose the people’s favor and in time, that can undo all the years we’ve put into securing Niflheim as the greatest nation in Eos. I’m not even going to elaborate on the quarrels happening among our own men in the Gahlad Region and how that has already undone peace talks with Lucian reps.” 

“Dear councilman, I may have a solution to our misfortune!” Ardyn chimed and stood up once more. He grinned in a childlike way that made Ravus tense uncomfortably. 

“Aren’t you just full of them tonight?” Ravus balked in a whisper, earning a raised brow from Aldercapt before he looked upon the Chancellor with curiosity. 

“Proceed, Chancellor.” Aldercapt gestured. 

“Most certainly! I must profess that what I am about to share may be upsetting to some, and I kindly implore the gracious men of this room to lend an ear and remain silent until I have delivered the entirety of my thoughts.” 

Ardyn took advantage of the initial shock from the council, grabbing the reigns with his words. He further solidified his dominance as he stepped away from his chair, and began to walk around the table. His stride was careful and exuberated his flamboyancy. 

“As it so happens while I was on leave, I came across a most remarkable creature while visiting our coast! This person shared with me their perilous tale of how they braved the oceans of Eos seeking refuge in Tenebrae, their ship having capsized during a storm. Once I garnered their trust, did they reveal to me that they hailed from Lucis.” 

As Ardyn suspected, the majority of the councilmen couldn’t resist chattering. An event this bold was too much to get men to shut up. Despite the scrutinizing stares, shocked faces, and even the looming glare Aldercapt held, Ardyn persisted to uphold his end. 

“After further interrogation was performed, I found the reason for their self imposed exile. This Lucian is quite disenfranchised with the monarchy, and has been unfortunately abused by the very people--the very soldiers--who were supposed to protect them during the war. The actions committed against them are so grievous, I dare not speak it aloud, not wanting to break their confidence. I leave the rest to your imagination. Even before councilman Gregor mentioned there may be descent among our ranks and those of nations we have conquered, I saw fit that taking the Lucian to the capitol would prove to be fruitful in our pursuits of winning the hearts and minds of our enemy. Think about it gentlemen: what better way to beat the Lucian’s and their propaganda than to use a citizen of their own country against them? The timing is perfect!”

“A little too perfect,” Ravus remarked loudly. He shot a calloused look at Ardyn as he drifted by his seat.

Various comments were made soon after as the chambers erupted. 

“Chancellor Izunia, while this is rather...grand in a manner of speaking, there is a strict penalty of death for enemies that cross into our lands during war. This is unheard of!” 

“No one has broken the law like this in centuries! How could you be so reckless?” 

“Can a Chancellor do that?” 

“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” Ardyn gestured his arms outward while he projected his voice. Despite the growing restlessness among the flock, Ardyn remained vigilant in his charisma. He smiled warmly and acknowledged everyone with a quick look to the eyes, further pulling the men into his web. 

“I’ve heard your concerns, and as your Chancellor, I take the word of you lot seriously! So may I indulge on the facts of the matter?” He shifted his gaze onto Emperor Aldercapt, relinquishing some of his power by throwing the ball into the old man’s court. 

Ardyn knew this was risky, for Aldercapt’s eyes were embedded with a quiet rage. An anger ferocious enough to cut down a man’s logic. He could easily flip the tables, and call for Y/N’s execution before another word could be spoken. Ardyn remained audacious, even as sweat pooled at the back of his neck while he observed the stern cast of a scowl that seemed to be permanently etched on Aldercapt’s wrinkled face. 

“You may proceed, Chancellor.” Aldercapt begrudgingly stated, and gestured for the room to quiet down. 

Perfect...He had the emperor ensnared in the net along with the rest. 

“Gentlemen, I know our laws quite extensively and am aware that my bringing a Lucian back to the capitol sets a dangerous precident. Nonetheless, I followed protocol when it comes to enemy interrogation. Chief Besithia can vouch for my good faith in the Lucian. He has personally examined them too.” 

Verstael quickly got up, clearing his throat after he coughed. Ardyn couldn’t help but give a slight roll with his eyes. 

“Chancellor Izunia’s words are truth, and I and my staff have found no such information to indicate the Lucian is a spy, nor part of the Glaive.” Verstael said with confidence as he gave a bow with his head toward Aldercapt, signaling that on his neck he was being honorable. He sat back down, peering over at Ardyn with a knowing smile that he had lied through his teeth. 

“Even with this Lucian harboring such hatred for their own land, what makes you believe they will comply with being a propaganda piece for Niflheim? You said so yourself they were seeking asylum in my country.” Ravus spoke up. He narrowed his gaze upon Ardyn, making his intentions well known that he was going to try to pick this thing apart. If he could get the Chancellor to fumble, it might secure his chances of obtaining the surplus from earlier. 

Ardyn chuckled amusingly. He knew exactly what the boy was driving at. Ravus didn't have a leg to stand on, however. 

“Believe it or not dear prince, they were quite grateful for the hospitality I offered and agreed to adhere to whatever terms and conditions I or the empire see fit. I have already begun the application process to take the Lucian as my ward. If our guest behaves in a manner that is deemed worthy of great penalty, I will take responsibility for any potential trespass. Think of it as insurance. None of you standing here, especially our great excellency, will not have your reputations soiled on account of an idea gone awry.” 

Ardyn paused and felt euphoric hearing the gasps from the men within the room. If there was one thing Ardyn prided himself on, it was playing into the theatrics of the miserable old fools before him. Ardyn was slowly starting to see the light form in each of their eyes; how they were warming up to the initial idea now that the threat to the men’s egos, morals, and power had been curbed. All that he was uncertain of, was Aldercapt. 

The commotion was silenced by a wave of Aldercapt’s hand as his right arm shot up. The tension in the chambers was thick as the old man remained calm while he made his decree. 

“As unorthodox as it may seem, and quite risky, I commend Chancellor Izunia for thinking outside the box to help our great nation be seen in a warmer light across Eos. We cannot win this war without demonstrating that we are as merciful as we are indomitable,” Aldercapt turned his head to councilman Gregor. “Councilman, I would like for you and Chancellor Izunia to create a more cohesive plan of how to best exploit this idea.” 

“Yes excellency,” Gregor stood up quickly and bowed before taking his seat. 

“And Chancellor Izunia,” Aldercapt paused as his eyes lingered on Ardyn, he offered a genuine smile for the first time during this meeting. “I trust that you’ll continue to lead by example and ensure the Lucian is integrated into our customs.” 

“With the greatest of honors, my liege!” Ardyn boldly proclaimed.

“It’s settled then,” Aldercapt closed his eyes and let out a tired breath. He could feel his body yearn for rest, and decided to make one last announcement before ending the day. “Given the late hour, and these recent revelations, I believe we have conducted enough business regarding the war for the day. You are all dismissed.” 

Aldercapt stood up, observing his lessers follow suit. After the cordial bows were given, did he fixate his attention on Ardyn. 

“Chancellor, do kindly hold back.” 

Ardyn stopped mid walk upon hearing his summons. He furrowed his brows and confusion settled on his face. His mouth opened to speak, but he dare not interrupt the final conversation Aldercapt was having with one of the war sponsors. 

When Verstael walked by and toward the exit, the two men made eye contact. Ardyn rolled his eyes in the direction of the emperor. Verstael made a face and shrugged, looking beside himself as to why Aldercapt would want a private meeting since everything went well. The chief researcher then gestured with his right hand for Ardyn to text him later about the ordeal to which the latter nodded. After giving a thumbs up, Verstael departed. 

Ardyn waited until Aldercapt’s discussion finished and the last man left the war room. His eyes carefully followed the sponsor, up until the man closed the door behind him. Once the latched clicked, did Ardyn make his way over to Aldercapt. He respectfully took off his hat, placing it over his chest while giving a faint smile and a light bow with his head. 

“You wanted an audience with yours truly?” 

“Hmm.” Aldercapt nodded then gestured with his right hand. He led Ardyn and himself to one of the great windows looking down from Zegnatus Keep and into the capital. A fondness grew in the emperors eyes as he studied how tiny the world was, how it all was beneath him. 

“Tell me Izunia, what do you see when you look upon the capital from this height?” 

Ardyn raised a brow but nonetheless made his observations. While his amber eyes combed over clouds and little dots of light emitting from the ground, Ardyn was calculating. Trying to be a step ahead if possible. Alas he was stumped. He scratched the side of his nose while putting his hat back on. 

“Should only your thoughts on the subject account for anything?” Ardyn encouraged. He turned his head toward Aldercapt and offered a sincere shrug. “You are after all, the great ruler of this nation. I merely carry out your command.” 

Aldercapt smirked. “Ever the cordial gentleman. Too humble for your own good.” 

Ardyn watched Aldercapt step closer to the glass. He noted how the emperor placed his hand upon it and went neutral. 

“I’ll tell you what I see,” Aldercapt began. “I see stepping stones. Every person under my rule is a piece of a larger puzzle that will lead me to what is rightfully mine: the gift of immortality. That which you promised with your brilliance.” 

Ardyn made a fist with his right hand before he settled, he then laughed. 

“Are you worried about the progress dear Verstael and I are making? Fear not! The closer we get too obtaining the crystal from the Lucians, the sooner I can make due on my oath. I am a man of my word. You will have your immortality and perhaps your family back should the gods continue to show favor!” 

“Ah,” Aldercapt acknowledged. He then removed his hand from the window before his fingers tensed upon the glass. “You mistaken my remarks for impatience. Allow me to explain further regarding my metaphor.”

Ardyn remained perplexed. He had dedicated years to studying the psyche of the Niflheim emperor. So much so that the grand leader himself didn’t know he was a pawn in a much larger game than the one he had been conducting against Lucis. Ardyn didn’t like this “knowing” Aldercapt seemed to have now. It was as if the emperor was holding onto a secret, one that not even the Adagium could break through. 

Aldercapt’s expression suddenly became threatening. “From Zegnatus Keep, and all through the slums of Gralea, I know where every puzzle piece goes within my realm. You can imagine my shock when just now I’ve come to find that there’s an unknown variable among my grand design. A piece that doesn’t belong. I’d very much would love to hear an explanation for why the Chancellor, my second in command, neglected to touch base with me regarding his harboring of a Lucian.” 

Ardyn felt his pulse rise as did his thoughts. The groused tone of the emperor foretold where Y/N truly stood in Aldercapt's eyes, and Ardyn instinctively felt an urge to protect what was his. Hiding his trip to Lucis mattered a great deal, but as far as Ardyn was concerned, it took second precedence. 

“A thousand apologies for my serious lack of foresight,” Ardyn morosely stated while concocting a lie on the spot that he could bend to his will. He performed a full bow as an act of begging for forgiveness. "I was not myself while ill. Between the ailment and the war, communication slipped my mind. I want to assure you that the Lucian will be of no consequence to your vision. You have my word." 

The answer seemed to please Aldercapt, but an air of suspicion remained. He grunted for Ardyn to rise back up to which the Chancellor obeyed. 

“How compliant would you say they are with the propaganda plot?” 

“Thus far there has been no opposition, but do keep in mind that the poor thing has been through much. I am breaking them in little by little. I implore you to have my confidence when I say it’ll be easy to sway them.” Ardyn said as a matter of fact, making note of the doubt that began to show itself in Aldercapt’s weary eyes.

Averting his gaze toward Gralea below Zegnatus Keep, Aldercapt contemplated over Ardyn’s idea and explanation. A part of him was still enraged that the Chancellor, someone only a ranking below himself, kept something like this a secret.

“Continue to proceed with grooming this Lucian to our liking.” Aldercapt murmured. “I do hope however that this side project doesn’t become a distraction to your research on my quest for immortality.” 

“If I may,” Ardyn began, making note of Aldercapt raising a curious brow. “I understand I overstepped a great deal by not coming forth. I know too that the risk of assassination and plotted coups are nigh, and that the empire cannot afford to be weak in its homeland. If I need to be made an example of at a later time, I won’t stop your judgement.” 

Aldercapt’s eyes widened at the proposition. He raised a hand, waving down Ardyn and chuckled while shaking his head.

“No such thing will come to pass. You are Niflheim’s Chancellor. The law doesn’t touch the likes of you and I. However,” He paused and captured Ardyn’s gaze in full, daring him to try and look away.

“Yes?” 

“I don’t like being undermined,” Aldercapt stated firmly. “What you did, though it was out of seeing the greater picture of our current issues, made a mockery of me to the council. You have helped the empire a great deal with your many years of service, and have turned the tide of the war to our favor, but at this point I cannot condone acts of bad faith. I consider letting a Lucian live despite our laws, to be quite treasonous. I already let slide your little tantrum in Insomnia years ago. I will make this clear to you once and only once: step out of line again, and I can easily have you thrown back onto that sorry island known as Angelgard, where you were once a nobody. Do we understand each other?” 

A cold numbness fell upon Ardyn. Still playing to his role, he took his hat off, putting it to his chest and gave a bow. “Noted and understood.” 

“You are dismissed, Izunia.” Aldercapt said, waving him off. 

“Excellency,” Ardyn put his hat back on and began to take his leave. He was almost to the doors when he heard Aldercapt clear his throat. Ardyn stopped and turned his head to the side, listening intently. 

“Sir?” 

“A word of caution from one man to another based on observation,” Aldercapt advised. “Don’t get attached to all your ideas .” 

Ardyn scoffed, shaking his head and ventured out. As soon as the large doors closed behind him, he allowed his frustrations to show through his face. Not caring if anyone passing by took heed of it. There was no time to dwell on threats. He needed wine, a few treats, and time to ground himself for what was to come.

[rindecisions]

Stranger Tales: 16

A poll based Stranger Things fanfiction

Read all of it on AO3

“You alright, man?” Gareth asked, snapping Eddie out of watching Steve rush out of the bar.

“Yeah…” Eddie said softly before shaking his head. “Yeah,” he repeated more firmly, turning his attention back to the stage.

—

“I should go apologize,” Max said quickly, standing up.

“Wait,” Robin stated. “I’ll go.”

Max nodded. “Can you tell him I’m sorry if I actually upset him?” she requested.

“Of course,” Robin smiled and stood.

Max watched her leave and returned to the booth with her mother.

—

As soon as Steve left the bar, he took a deep breath of the summer night air. He walked a ways from the door and leaned against the brick wall of the building, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He made quick work of lighting it and sighed out the first drag as he put the pack away. With a deep groan, he ran his hand through his hair and lightly hit the back of his head on the wall. How could he look at a man like that? Could it just be because he associates him with a woman now? He took another long drag and let his hands fall to the side.

It’s not like the thought of gays grossed him out or anything. He groaned when he remembered how many times he was forced to act like it did when he was in front of Tommy and the others. ‘Forced’ probably wasn’t the right word. Technically, he had the choice to say otherwise, and technically he could have used other means to insult guys, but calling someone queer was such an easy fallback that it became automatic. He never meant it, hell he didn’t mean most of the shit that spewed from his mouth back then. Ugh, I was such a douchebag.

Steve knew he liked women way too much to be gay, which made comprehending his pull toward Eddie that much more confusing. Can you like both? He vaguely recalled something about David Bowie being… what was it?

“Hey,” Robin said softly, startling Steve.

“Shit!” Steve exclaimed, nearly dropping his cigarette.

Robin waved the smoke from her face and stood upwind of it. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“No,” Steve cringed and took a long drag. “I’m sorry for running out like that.” He spoke out the smoke as he tossed the half-finished cigarette to the ground and snuffed it with his sneaker.

“It was a little dramatic,” she teased, leaning on the wall next to him.

“I know,” Steve groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “I just…” He combed his fingers through his hair. “How could I…” he trailed off, staring up at the night sky. “I don’t know, Robin. I’m just… confused.”

Robin sighed and looked at his conflicted face. A part of her knew what he was going through. She fought a similar battle the first time she realized she had a crush on a girl. While she’d grown fond of Steve, she didn’t exactly want to come out to him. Sure, he seemed like he’d changed, but she’d heard him bad mouth too many people using slurs for her kind to be comfortable with him knowing. Plus, she still had to work with the man. This was a topic she had to broach carefully. “Because you were vaguely attracted to a man?”

“There was nothing vague about it,” he mumbled.

“Trust me when I say this is something you need to figure out for yourself. Don’t let Max or anyone else tell you how to think.” Robin stared at the library wall across the street as she spoke. She knew Steve had turned his head to look at her and that just made her more tense. “Don’t name names or tell me anything you’re thinking about, but just roll with me on this, okay?”

“Sure,” he said warily with furrowed brows.

“Think of someone you’ve had a crush on or, even better, someone you loved romantically.”

Nancy was obviously the first thing that came to his mind.

“Now swap that person’s gender. Do your feelings for them change?” She paused to let him think. “Again, don’t tell me,” she added quickly, holding her hand up momentarily.

Steve sighed and did as Robin asked, swapping Nancy’s gender in his mind. To his surprise, he found it cute, and his feelings for her remained unchanged.

When Robin heard a second sigh, she continued. “And what about if things got intimate?”

Steve felt his face warm up at the thought of Nancy’s cute male body under him. Not only did it not bother him, but he kind of liked it. In his mind, she was still petite and slender. It was easy to imagine her without boobs, but imposing a dick on her was another story and he found himself laughing at it.

“You okay?” Robin asked.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled. “It’s just funny to think of her with a cock.”

Robin winced at the crude word. “Gross.”

Steve laughed a little harder at her cringing face. “Thanks though,” he said sincerely.

“Did that help clear some things up?”

Steve took a deep breath and crossed his arms. “I’m not sure, but it definitely gave me some things to think about.”

“You’ll figure it out, Steve.” She glanced at him and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Steve stated with a contemplative expression. “What is David Bowie?”

Robin looked at him in total confusion. “A… pop singer?” she said slowly and squinted.

“No,” Steve groaned. “I mean his sexuality.”

“Oh!” Robin perked. “Bisexual?”

“That’s it!” Steve snapped his fingers and pointed at Robin. “That’s when you like both men and women, right?”

“Yes,” Robin chuckled.

“So, do you think I might be like Bowie?”

“Like I said, don’t let other people decide for you, but there’s always a possibility.”

Steve hummed in deep thought.

“Think you’re ready to go back in, or did you want to head out?”

More fics by Rindecision

[vii-is-free]

The Path to Freedom, a HOTD fanfic

Summary: Ser Crispin and Rhaenyra run off together, pissing everyone off

Read/Review on AO3

Read Prologue here

Chapter 3

She dreamt of the Unburnt again.

Rhaenyra found herself at a funeral pyre, surrounded by desert sand and the night sky. , The mourners around her were of tan skin and black hair. All except for one -the same woman who walked through the fires of her enemies.

Yet, Rhaenyra saw her different this time. Smaller. Weaker. Fragile.

She was on her knees, staring helplessly at the burning embers. She cradled three dragon eggs in her arms as she cried over the deceased - a large wrapped body laid next to a tiny one, crackling in the flames.

Rhaenyra’s heart sank, and she was back at her own mother and brother’s funeral.

The woman then stood. Holding the eggs close, she carried them towards the flame, straight into the fire.

“Daenerys, stop!”

Rhaenyra stood with them all night until dawn. The pyre finally settled at sunrise, and a figure stood from the ashes.

Rhaenyra rushed to her with the others. Her clothes were missing, skin covered in soot. Rhaenyra wiped the ash from her skin finding it unharmed.

Relief and joy overcame Rhaenyra, and she smiled as she watched three hatchlings crawl on their new mother.

“Behold, the Mother of Dragons!”

——----

“Mother of Dragons....”

The mid sun bled through the curtains, stirring her awake. Rhaenyra struggled out of bed, her back and hips sore from last nights adventures.

The man truly didn’t let her sleep, teasing her and fucking her until the dawn. She vowed her revenge, but they had to get out of this predicament first.

Rhaenyra shuffled into the chamber for a quick bath. After she washed and dried, she walked around looking for something to wear. She opened the door to the hall to find a trunk. To her delight, Daemon had given them some proper clothes.

A leather dress, reminiscent of dragon skin. Similar to the dress she wore while traveling with Syrax. A black tunic for Criston, a simple gray with buttons adorned with the Targaryen sigil. She hopped onto the bed and shook her lover awake.

“Wake up,” she whispered, “It’s time for breakfast.”

-————-

As they entered the dining hall, Rhaenyra found herself surprised by the simplicity in its design. Daemon spared the room of his typical Targaryen sex art that had invaded her castle. The floor to ceiling windows along the walls gave light to the room, which held the a long, dark oak table. It held various plates of breakfast foods, hot and ready for them.

“Sleep well?” Daemon bemoaned. “I didn’t. The two of you went on all night like dying cats.”

“Not true, Uncle!” Rhaenyra chastised.

He nodded at Criston, an eyebrow raised. “Black suits you well.”

Criston ignored him as he plated his food. Daemon waited as the pair took their seats beside him

“Now, you’re welcome here as long as you like,” said Daemon, “but at some point we will need to to say something to the king.”

“You heard from Father?” Rhaenyra asked.

“No, I believe he’s,” Daemon waved his hand flippantly, “angry at me or...something.”

Rhaenyra looked at Criston, then back to Daemon. She stood up so suddenly the men nearly jumped.

“Tell him nothing. We are leaving for Essos. I plan to marry Ser Criston and become a sellsword’s wife. We will spend the rest of our days as free people traveling the Narrow Sea, chasing oranges and cinnamon.”

Daemons mouth dropped. “Chasing what, now?”

Criston stifled a laugh.

Rhaenyra continued, “I no longer choose to wait for something to happen to me. I am taking life into my own hands.”

“Ah, I see,” said Daemon as he returned to his meal. “And while you’re chasing...oranges or whatever, what shall you do with your status as heir? When your father dies, will you drop your cloves and return? Or will you continue your free folk life?”

Rhaenyra quipped, “I don’t see what that would upset you, seeing as I am your obstacle.”

Daemon shrugged. “Well, there are now three more obstacles aside from you. But will you really will throw away your birthright to a couple of brats?”

Rhaenyra shook her head. “My father will name Aegon as heir regardless of how I live my life.”

Daemon set his knife and fork down. “You truly think that low of him?”

Rhaenyra pursed her lips. She thought of the nights with Father, where he spoke to her on the prophecies. She recalled the blade. She glanced at Cole, and mouthed a “sorry”.

A matter this important had to be spoken in High Vaeleryan. Rhaenyra retrieved the daggar from her pockets, setting on the table.

“What do you know of the Song of Ice and Fire, Uncle?”

Daemon jolted, as if he had heard a name long forgotten. He gave Rhaenyra a long, cold stare. He waved his hand again and chuckled in common tongue.

“A bedtime story that my foolish brother thinks is real.”

“He showed me this blade,” said Rhaenyra, continuing in her ancient language, “He told me this is why he chose me as his heir. To unite the world against impending darkness. He could have borne his three children and said not a word to me, but he still did.”

Daemon responded in in High Vaeleryan. “When my brother sets his mind on something, he is absolutely driven to it.”

“I know.”

“So,” said Daemon, glancing at Criston, “I take it that you are not renouncing your claim as heir. Correct?”

Rhaenyra looked at Criston, conflicted. She had every intention to run away until speaking of the prophecy. She felt the need to solve this ancient mystery, believing herself the only heir who could.

Or would. Rhaenyra thought. No, she had to at least see this through before she could walk away.

Luckily, Daemon did not let her answer.

“Ah, forget it,” Daemon mused aloud, “You have decades before the old man croaks. Best not to spend it mulling. Go live your life for the sake of the gods! See the world, go...learn something! Experience life outside those damned walls.”

Go...put cinnamon on oranges or whatever you were prattling on about. If you truly wish to rule the six kingdoms, you should visit the other five.”

Rhaenyra felt relief. “Of course, Uncle”

“Worry not about your father, he will come around.” Daemon motioned towards the hall and said, “I have a gift for you in the library. Go take a look and wait for me.”

She stood and took a glance at the men before exiting.

Surely they won’t fight again.

————----

“What was that about?” Criston said, confused and irritated at the conversation he could not understand.

Daemon let out a heavy sigh. “I really do hate knights.”

Criston ignored him, knowing Daemon would never dignify him with an actual conversation. He finished his plate as fast as he could, ignoring the tension flare up in his muscles in case Daemon decided to continue.

Daemon threw his hands in disgust. “All the men she could run away with...and she chooses you.”

“Alright then,” Cole stood up to take his leave.

“No, no, do sit!” Daemon exclaimed, and he motioned Criston back to the chair.

“It’s not a personal affront. Please, sit.”

Criston regretfully sat back down, staring Daemon in the eyes. “You rather it be another? Yourself, perhaps.”

Daemon looked speechless, then chuckled and raised his teacup. “For someone who cares so much about getting his knockers chopped off, you sure do have a heavy pair.”

Sipping his tea, Daemon glanced at the dagger Rhaenyra had left, and back to Criston. A soft clink filled the dead air as he set the cup down.

“I love my niece, deeply,” said Daemon, “Like one of my own. Had I considered marrying her for the title? Of course I asked. I was refused.”

Criston swallowed, his jaw tightening.

“And no, Ser Knight, I have no qualms about bedding and wedding my niece if it gets me whatI want.”

It took everything in him not to pummel Daemons face in.

“Ah, hold on, Ser Honor! Before you break my table.”

Criston realized his hands gripping the ends of the table, to the point where his knuckles turned white. He took a deep breath and relaxed his jaw.

“I do like this table,” said Daemon, “Now, as difficult as it may be for one as haughty as you to understand...”

Daemon turned his body toward Criston, crossing his arms. “Rhaenyra means the world to me. And despite my ambitions...I care for her happiness. I too, had to betray the love of my life to enter into an appalling marraige.”

Daemon made a face at the memory, which Criston found slightly amusing.

“And I mean, appalling.”

“I cannot imagine...” Criston replied.

“You can’t, you really cannot,” Daemon chuckled, “Anyways, if an obstinate prude such as yourself is what makes her happy, then I will convince my brother to give his blessing.”

Criston was astonished. “Thank you, Prince Daemon--“

“And!” Daemon inturrupted, “Since it must trouble you at night, I will personally make sure that no blade will ever go near your cock.”

Criston buried his face in his hands, hiding the blush. “Thank you. Prince Daemon.”

Daemon cackled as he took a sip of tea. “Honestly, you knights and your cocks. What are you so worried about if you don’t even get to use them?”

This man is so vulgar. Criston thought.

“I should warn you though, Ser Criston Cole.”

Criston looked up, astonished that Daemon finally got his name right.

“Rhaenyra,” said Daemon, and as he spoke his voice grew low and stern. “She and I are kindred spirits. You don’t see it now because you’re all flustered in love. But if you think you’re going to carry her across the Narrow Sea and live a life of complacency, you’re wrong.”

Criston listened intently, and did not argue. He could already see what Daemon warned.

“Rhaenyra, like myself, has the blood of the dragon. You see the difference, between my brother and I? The blood of the dragon leaves you restless. Leaves you wanting endlessly. And do you know what that want is for?”

Attention? Criston chuckled to himself.

“For power,” said Daemon “Once my brother dies, Rhaenyra will want to claim the throne. Whatever peace you have with her will perish once she has claim.

“So decide today, Ser Cole, how deep your love runs for her. Because no one can tame a dragon.”

Criston kept his tongue while his thoughts went wild. My love runs deeper than your cruelty. I will stand beside her, always.

Daemon rolled his eyes, “Gods, you knights are so pathetic.”

Daemon stood up and reached behind the chair for a large leather case. He sat it on an empty space on the table. He opened it before Criston to reveal pieces of silver armor. Criston flinched as he recognized the braided patterns of the chestplate

“You’ll need this for the rest of your travels through Westeros.”

Criston stared at the white cloak, folded neatly between the steel, in disbelief.

“Where did you...”

“I’m a collector. I like to collect things.

——————-

The library was like Rhaenyra had remembered years ago. Lined wall to wall with books, both in common and ancient languages. She dragged a finger along the dusty study desk. There, in a small wicker basket, beheld a black dragon egg wrapped in linen.

“You stole it again?!” Rhaenyra chastised in High Vaeleryan as she picked up the egg.

“I can’t help myself, you know that.” Daemon snickered as he entered the room. He kept his hands in his pockets and he stared fondly at the egg.

“I found Syrax’s nest this morning. I picked this one for you.”

Rhaenyra turned towards Daemon as he approached her. His hands slid out of his jacket and raised to meet hers. He held the egg with her, his warm fingers gliding across hers.

“It’s for your firstborn.” Daemon said. “Pale eyes. Curly brown locks. A Dornish Targaryen will be quite a look.”

They shared a soft laugh.

“I’m sure the noblemen of Westeros are quite tired of us marrying each other.” said Rhaenyra, “This will be good for the realm.”

Daemon nodded, eyes fixed on the egg. “Hm, yes. Why him though?”

“He’s my white knight. He’s been at my side for years. It’s natural to develop -“

“Cut the shit dear niece,” said Daemon and his eyes met hers. “You’re not in the Red Keep. He’s the clear opposite of you.”

Her eyes pleaded his to stop. “His nobility does not matter!”

His eyes refused, and rose in flames with his voice. “I’m not talking about his house, I’m talking about him. He’s self righteous, he goes on about his own honor like it’s all he has.”

“It is.” Rhaenyra said.

Daemon scoffed and withdrew his hands. “So the heir to the Iron Throne isn’t enough for him? He has to take you away from me?”

Rhaenyra looked down at the egg. The skin of her fingers grew chilly and began to miss his warmth.

“You may not have seen what he did to that boy but I did. There was nothing left of his face!” Daemon stopped in front of the window, staring out into the hills beyond the castle.

“I was actually impressed,” he chuckled, “I didn’t think the pious knight had it in him. Then I remembered his life before. The marches. Quite a bloody war. Do you think he was goodly and honorable when he was killing his own men?”

Rhaenyra wondered that herself. The thought of Cole being...like Daemon. Bloodthirsty. Sweat and blood dripping from his brow. His chest heaving.

It excited her.

“You had your chance Uncle, are you having second thoughts?”

“Ah,” Daemon mused as he turned to face her, “So this is to get back at me?”

Rhaenyra grew angry. She set the egg down and stormed up to her uncle, faces close enough to touch. She resisted the urge to slap him and said, “You left me. In a brothel. I’d hate to see where you leave me as your wife.”

Daemon stroked her cheek. “I asked your father for your hand. He refused. Since his approval doesn’t matter....”

His finger trailed down her neck, to her chest. Hood his fingers around her collar. Her breath stopped for a moment.

“You asked me to claim you. We could wed today, here at Dragonstone. Your position would be sealed.”

The anger dissapated, revealing what was already there. That burning desire.

Daemon leaned closer.

She stepped away, taking his place in front of the window.

Daemon chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well...he may bore you to death slightly less than Ser Laenor. Bring him to a battlefield and he may actually excite you. Look how flushed you are just thinking about that.”

“Stop.” Rhaenyra covered her face. She peeked through her fingers to see Daemon looking at her, amused.

“This isn’t about desire, Uncle. In you...” Rhaenyra paused as she dropped her hands, spinning the rings on her fingers. “...I see the person I want to be. That’s what I truly desire. To be free to do what I want with little repercussion.”

Daemon scoffed. “Not little, I’ve been banned from King’s Landing a total of three times now.”

Rhaenyra turned her back to him, now facing the window.

“If I could take a stab at the why if it all,” said Daemon, “You took my prior advice to heart. You gave the option to Ser Cole, and he was angry.”

Rhaenyra’s heart sank at the memory.

“He...accused me of making him my whore. He said I soiled his white cloak. I never intended to hurt him.”

Rhaenyra stared out into the clear, blue sky. All she wanted to do was fly away. She felt hands on her shoulders, then the warmth of his arms as Daemon pulled her into an embrace.

“Mysaria wasn’t happy with our arrangement either.”

“Why didn’t you marry her?” Rhaenyra asked softly.

Daemon chuckled. “Because I’m not you. I’m not that brave.“

He rested his head against hers. “I didn’t want you to whither away at King’s Landing. But I should not have taken advantage of you like that. However...if my lapse in judgement brought you happiness. Then, your welcome.”

Rhaenyra felt her eyes well up. She swallowed, burying her tears.

“Did I sign his death sentence, Uncle?”

Daemon kissed her temple. “Don’t worry about your father. Or the Sea Snake. I have a plan to regain his favor.”

“Oh?” Rhaenyra looked in interest as Daemon patted her back. He walked to the desk and picked up a letter. Rhaenyra immediately saw the sigil of house Valeryon on the paper.

“It seems his daughter took quite an interest in me,” said Daemon, “A marraige will repair our houses’ shaky ground.”

Rhaenyra nodded. “She’s beautiful. And older now.”

Daemon threw his hands up in jubilation, the letter flying into the air. “Thank the gods, a wife I can fuck! And enjoy fucking.”

Rhaenyra had enough. “I’m leaving, Uncle”

“Never not enjoy fucking, dear Niece!”

“Goodbye, Uncle!”

She hurried out of the library, and in the hall towards her bed chambers. She turned the corner and bumped into Criston. Her desire came raging back to her, raging like the fires of old Valyria.

“Princess-“

She pressed her lips against his, the force of her body shoved him against the wall.

“I need you, Ser Criston.”

“Right here? In the hall?”

Daemon shouted from the library, “I won’t intrude!”

Rhaenyra laughed. Grabbing her flustered knight by the collar she guided him to her bedchambers.

-——————

“You still haven’t told me.”

Rhaenyra laid on his chest, playing with the gold chain of his necklace. “Told you what?”

Criston rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, the thing?”

“What thing?” Rhaenyra teased.

“The blade,” Criston said, unamused. “It clearly means something.”

Rhaenyra sat up, taking the silk robe from the edge of the bed. She redressed herself and bent down to the pile of clothes she left on the floor, taking the dagger.

“You’ll think I’m mad if I tell you.”

Criston sat up. “Tell me first, then I’ll decide.”

He left the bed and redressed to meet her in the sitting area. He took a seat next to her on the sofa, admiring the trove of candles on the table. Rhaenyra unsheathed the blade and held it over the flames. Criston gasped as he witnessed a line of red script adorn the blade.

“I...can’t read that.”

“It’s in High Vaeleryan,” Rhaenyra said, “I really should teach you.”

“And risk me knowing what you two discuss?” Cole said cheekily.

“Oh stop it,” Rhaenyra admonished, then continued,

“It says, From my blood, come The Prince That Was Promised and his will be the Song of Ice and Fire.”

“What does that mean?”

“This knife belonged to Aenar Targaryen.” Rhaenyra said. “He fled to Dragonstone after his daughter had a dream. That dream correctly predicted the Doom of Valyria, and is the reason I sit here with you.”

She paused and glanced at Criston, who placed a hand on her back.

“I’m grateful for that.” Criston kissed her forehead and said, “Go on, I don’t think you as mad yet.”

Rhaenyra scoffed slightly as she sheathed the blade and continued, “My family...we have these visions that we call dragon dreams. They come to fruition in one way or another.”

“The naked woman in your dreams,” said Criston, “You think that a prophecy?”

Rhaenyra had forgotten about her. “It’s possible but...I don’t know what it means yet.”

“Does it have something to do with the blade?”

“Oh, no,” Rhaenyra continued, “Aegon the Conqueror had a dream that showed him the end of our world. It begins with a terrible winter. He inscribed his dream onto this blade, and called it the Song of Ice and Fire.”

“Winter is coming.” Cole mused.

“What?” Rhaenyra looked at him, startled.

“I’ve heard northmen say that before. It’s the words of House Stark,” said Cole, “I heard that and thought...isn’t it always bloody winter up there?”

They both chuckled, and Cole continued. “Perhaps House Stark knows about this prophecy.”

“No, it’s only passed down the heirs,” said Rhaenyra, “Aegon believed that the only way to prevent the end times is to to keep a Targaryen on the iron throne.”

“That’s silly.”

“What is?”

Cole paused to read her face. Rhaenyra placed a hand on his knee, encouraging him to speak.

Criston sighed and said, “Well...to have a prophecy of the end of the world and...fail to share it to the world?”

Rhaenyra’s mouth dropped. Criston immediately backtracked. “I’m sorry Mi’Lady, it wasn’t my intent to insult you.”

“No - I...you’re not wrong.” Rhaenyra said, “I just...haven’t thought of it that way before.”

The seeds of a plan began to sprout in Rhaenyra’s mind. Criston was right. To prevent the end of the world, why keep it to herself? Rhaenyra could not trust that baby Aegon would take the weight of this so seriously.

At some point she would have to talk about this with House Stark.

And these dreams...of the woman Daenerys. The only Daenerys Targaryen she knew of was from generations past.

Was this a message from the past...or the future?

“It seems we won’t be sailing to Essos after all.” Cole quipped, breaking her thoughts.

Rhaenyra, overwhelmed, began to tear up. “I’m sorry.”

Cole shook his head and smiled. “Don’t be.”

Rhaenyra jumped from the sofa into his arms, throwing her arms around his neck. She held onto him tightly and affirmed, “I won’t let them take you from me.”

“We don’t have to think about that right now.”Criston picked her up and took her to the bed. She stayed in his arms, again playing with the necklace. She looked upon the sigil of House Cole embroidered on the gold.

A gift, from Rhaenyra, to her sworn shield.

“What are the words of House Cole?”

“Fuck Dorne.”

“It is not!” Rhaenyra laughed.

Cole chuckled. “Steadfast and True.”

“Hm.” Rhaenyra kissed his lips. “You really are.”

Next Chapter

---

A/N: From what I could find, House Cole doesn’t have an official phrase so I made one up.

GRRM based the sigil of house cole is actually...coal. Which I found very interesting.

It’s a crude source, one that a lot of us want to stop (for many good reasons), yet it’s one of the top 3 sources of energy on earth. I think it’s a great allegory for the smaller houses in Westeros - like House Cole. They’re considered lowborn, lesser than the noble houses. But these great houses, despite treating them like shit, still rely on them for stewardship, protection, etc.

I tend to see these minor houses as having unwavering loyalty to each other - after all they have no one but their own brothers and sisters. My headcanon of House Cole is that they’re small and they are loyal - to each other and those they love. Hence, steadfast and true.

Also, I’m not trying to debate the use of fossil fuels in our world right now. I’m more so using the impact of coal in our lives in relation to the smaller houses, including the Coles, in Westeros.

[staranon95]

DinCobb Week Day 5: Sharing Cultures (SFW)

for @dincobbweek​ with a wedding!!

@astrangebird​ drew some fantastic art and i decided to write a piece about it. that’s that. that’s all of it.

AO3 Link

Wait For Me Here

“We should get married,” Din idly said one day when they were in bed, side by side to wait out the worst of the day’s heat.”

“Oh yeah?” Cobb asks. He’s on his stomach, pillowed on his arms. Din knows this without even having to look because he knows Cobb likes sleeping on his front, usually one leg tucked up a bit, sometimes one arm stretched out for Din as if he’s reaching for him in sleep.

“Think about it. We live together.”

“Mm.”

“We cook together.”

“Mmhm.”

“We fight together.”

“Mm.”

“And we have a child together.”

Cobb snorts. “Sharing custody of your child with a Jedi might be putting it a bit generous.”

“There are also the school kids.”

“’cause half the time I have to tell them not to get into shit they shouldn’t.”

“Still.”

“Still,” Cobb says and breathes in. Then he opens his eyes and Din turns on his side to face him. “Marriage, huh?”

“Mmhm. Unless if . . .”

“Unless?”

“I don’t know what marriage customs are like on Tatooine, and the ones I’ve been invited to were Tusken in nature.”

“Well, shoot, partner, I reckon we go just as hard with our wedding flair as them Tuskens do.”

“Is that so?”

Cobb nods tiredly against his arms and closes his eyes. “Two-day affair most of the time. Eat and drink late into the night, sleep a few hours, and then get up in the morning for the breakfast feast. Everyone comes out with everything. Real big community thing as well.”

“I, I might like to see that.”

“What about you Mandalorians though?” Cobb then shifts suddenly, rising up long enough to lie himself across Din’s chest and hold him close with a leg in between Din’s. “I know you’ve . . . I know it’s not easy for you.”

Din sighs. The fallout from the survivors of his clan is still fresh. At least they didn’t strip him of his armour, but he doesn’t think they see him as Mandalorian anymore. He saw to their relocation on Tatooine with Boba Fett’s help, and finally they can live without the fear of being seen or being caught. But they will not accept Din as one of their own, not anymore, not after he gave up the Darksaber, allowed his face to be seen, and nearly broke every Creed he had taken on as a young adult.

“Well, the weddings were mostly, they were short,” Din admits. “Usually it requires an exchange, especially if one member were coming from a different clan.”

“An exchange of what?”

“Equipment. Weapons or armour. I once saw someone approach the Armourer to ask her how to show them to make a knife for their betrothed. It’s meant to be personal to a degree. Either you got this weapon in battle or you’re offering up a piece of yourself, your beskar’gam.”

Cobb hums. “Sounds very official.”

“Marriage is a pact. You raise warriors. You grow the clan. You protect the clan.”

“Mm. I can work with that.”

Din smiles. “You’re a very agreeable partner.”

“I try.”

…

What starts out as a simple comment quickly turns into nearly a town wide event. Neither Din nor Cobb know how the secret got out. They were thinking, originally, a small affair with their closest associates. Boba is even willing to host at his palace, and Din is fine with that. But then word gets out, as it always does, that the Marshal and the Mandalorian are planning to get married, and now here they are, eating breakfast at Werlo’s cantina, getting approached by one of the mothers in town who’s there after dropping her kids off at the school, no doubt, casually talking like Din and Cobb know what’s going on.

“Marshal! Have you decided on a date yet?”

Cobb blinks and looks to Din before looking at the woman. “Excuse me?”

“For the wedding! Gaia said you and the Mandalorian were planning to marry.”

Din chokes on his caf.

“Um, well.” Cobb reaches out to pat Din’s hand. “We were planning a small ceremony.”

“Nonsense! I know you’re both busy men. We can handle all the logistics for you. All you and your fiancé need to do is show up to the day!”

“Well, Lee, thank you for the offer,” Cobb says, and Din can see he’s trying to be polite about it, but Din knows Cobb has a hard time turning down any of the favours the townspeople show him.

“It’s my pleasure, Marshal. It’s been some time since we’ve had cause to celebrate! We’ll be in touch!”

“Yeah, Lee. See you.”

Once she’s gone, Cobb looks to Din, and Din tries to smother his smile behind his hand.

“Hey, this is your town too,” Cobb says.

“I know. I guess a small ceremony is no longer in the works.”

“They were going to find out one way or another.”

…

From how Cobb explained it, Din thought he had a good idea of what entailed a Tatooine wedding from the settler-slave population. Good food, good drinks, good company.

“Have you thought about a house yet?”

Din looks to Jo as he’s elbow deep in a speeder. “What?”

“You know,” she says like Din should know. “A house.”

“Why would I—”

“Oh. You don’t know. Right.” She pops her lips. “It’s a Tatooine thing. ‘specially for freed slaves and poor settlers. It’s a thing of pride to be able to provide a place like a home. I know my dad worked hard to get an apartment for me and my ma while he also worked to get our manumission. Tiny one bedroom place ‘til I moved out here. But he was very proud of that place when he had it. Point is—what are you bringing to the table, Din?”

Din blinks and reaches for a towel to wipe sweat from his brow. “I hadn’t thought of anything.”

“Let me give you the one up ‘cause I know the Marshal won’t be asking’ for it himself.” She slides down from her perch on a workbench to lean over the speeder. “Man needs himself a proper house. And I’m talking a proper house. Most of the buildings here are temporary. They’re not built for long term which is why they require so much maintenance. Houses underground are the way to be. They take a while, sure, but when you’ve got a village.”

He frowns. “I thought that was for raising children.”

“Villages are for everything here, Din. If you want to give him something good, really show you love him, come find me when you’ve got free time. I’m pretty sure I can help you out with that issue.”

She then leaves and Din tries to return to his work at hand, but he’s stuck on the thought of a house. Of building a house for him and Cobb and for Grogu when he and his Jedi visit. Where they can host friends and not feel too crammed in Cobb’s home as it is. Where they can actually bring their lives and interests together in one shared space. A shared unit.

Cobb enters the garage looking like he’s dressed up to head into town, and Din stands to greet him. “Hey, darlin’!” He kisses Din on the cheek. Din wrinkles his nose.

“I’m dirty.”

“We’ve been worse to each other. Now. I’m headin’ into town for a bit. Told Jo to hold down the fort and you’re here for back up.”

Din nods. “You don’t want me coming with you?”

“Baby, I know you don’t like to travel to Mos Eisley. Take it easy. I’ll be back shortly after dinner.”

“Okay.”

He helps Cobb push out his speeder onto the main street of Mos Pelgo and kisses him once more before Cobb pulls his scarf up over his mouth and nose and pulls his goggles down over his eyes and offers Din a two fingered salute and then he’s off.

Din trudges down the street towards where Jo is leaning against the wall of the cantina. “So. A house.”

She nods. “Come on. Let’s talk logistics.”

…

In what they originally wanted to be a quick and short wedding turns into a several month-long affair as Mos Pelgo comes out in spades to support their Marshal and Mandalorian in tying the knot. They plan for food and for drinks. They send out invites to the local Tuskens, who also seem enthused that Din is getting married. They think it a good match, and well, at least Din has their approval.

The building of the Marshal’s new house is quietly under wraps. All Cobb knows is that a new house is being built, but he thinks it for one of the families in town, even comes by to watch Din at work in the staked-out pit, helping to dig down and remove sand until they come to the more compacted ground that they can put stabilizers against and hold in place before they’re pouring the plaster and concrete for the walls.

Whenever Din has a spare moment, he plans with Jo for the interior. A nice open kitchen. A large room for the both of them with an en-suite bathroom. There is not only one guest room but two. One that will largely be Grogu’s when he’s here to stay, and also one for the Jedi if he plans on staying the night. Sometimes he does.

Then there’s the living room, circular in design that could hold a dozen people comfortably, and knowing Cobb, he’ll like the opportunity to entertain more. Din thinks it’s perfect, and he finds as he puts the work into making a home, he realizes he’s looking forward to it not just for Cobb’s promised happiness, but also his own. He can’t remember the last time he’s actually had a proper home like this. Not since Aq Vetina anyway.

“You’re in a good mood,” Cobb says that night when they’re finishing the dishes after dinner.

Din shrugs. “Just happy I guess.”

“Good.” Cobb kisses him quickly on the cheek. “You deserve to be.”

…

One of the next steps for the wedding is the clothes themselves. For Cobb it means he’s getting a robe made for himself. White, flowing fabric with a fancy gold trim around the hems. It’s a standard piece of Tatooine marriages, and Din feels himself sort of bereft that he doesn’t have something similar.

So he plans a visit to Boba’s because they have a shared lineage, and Din can’t exactly walk up to where his old tribe is and ask, “Can any of you help me dress for my wedding? Even though you see me as dar’manda and probably wouldn’t accept my marriage to an outsider?”

Best not to think of it.

He rides with Cobb to the palace, but Cobb isn’t planning on staying.

“I got business in town,” he says. “Might be a while. You okay staying here tonight?”

“Of course.”

“’kay. Kiss.”

He tilts up for Din to lean down and kiss him before waving him off. Then Din heads towards the palace and is let in by the guards.

It’s one of Boba’s work days, meaning he’s not seeing court, which means he’s pouring drinks for him, Fennec, and Din to enjoy. He always serves the strong stuff, which makes Din’s throat burn, but he’s getting used to it.

“So how is it anyway?” Boba asks, reclined on one of the sofa’s where Fennec can press her feet against his thigh.

“Going well,” Din says, keeping his eyes on the dark liquor in his glass. “The house is coming along.”

“You still haven’t told him yet?” Fennec asks.

Din shakes his head. “I want to keep it a surprise for him.”

“Sounds like you got it bad.”

“And you don’t?”

Fennec chuckles and Boba smiles amusedly.

“Fennec’s not exactly my queen here,” Boba says.

“That’s right. I’m an empress.”

“Still. A house sounds like a good idea. Putting down roots. Settling in.”

“It’s about time,” Din says, taking a sip. He smacks his lips. “But it’s getting close to the day and . . . the seamstress offered to tailor me something, but I was hoping for something more—”

“Familiar?” Boba offers. Din nods.

“I think you can help with that,” Fennec says. “Despite what he might say, Boba’s become a real fashion snob.”

“It’s not fashion when you have to wear it to impress people who won’t take you seriously otherwise. The battle armour doesn’t always work.”

“Sure,” she says. “We’ll go with that.”

“I’ll see what I got.”

They eventually move to Boba and Fennec’s shared private quarters where Din can examine the clothing in front of a mirror.

“If you’re looking for something more Mandalorian,” Boba says from within his closet. “I’d suggest the lavalava. Especially if you’re aiming for tradition.”

“Bring out the blue one if you have it,” Fennec says.

Boba returns holding what Din first sees as a skirt, but recognizes the design of it when he was first living in the Fighting Corps’ barracks as a child. It’s meant to be a more formal piece of Mandalorian wear for more casual settings if one didn’t want to dress up in full battle armour. It’s meant to just sit on the hips.

Boba gets him to try it on right there. “You’d probably just wear a light pair of leggings underneath,” he says.

“Oh, and then,” Fennec says, rising to her feet and entering the closet. She returns with a lighter blue cloak and a red sash. “Tie it off with this sash here.” She wraps it around his waist. “And then the cloak like this.” She lets it sit on one shoulder and brings the two ends together to pin at his other shoulder. “You know, I might have a broach that could fit this. Din, hold this for me. I’ll be right back.”

He does as he’s told and looks at himself in the mirror.

“Not bad,” Boba says. “Colour suits you.”

Din turns a bit to admire himself in the mirror. He looks at Boba in the reflection and asks, with his stomach fluttering, “Have you spoken to the clan?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Last week I think.”

Din hums.

“They’ve settled in just fine. Getting along with the Tuskens just fine, but seems like they got more in common than they do the settlers.”

Din nods. “I had a feeling they would.”

“Have you . . .”

“Not since they relocated.”

Boba hums.

“Here we go,” Fennec says, coming back into the room with a silver brooch—in the shape of a Mythosaur skull.

“I didn’t know you had that, cyar,” Boba says.

“It was a gift from a long time ago. Guy who gave it to me certainly wasn’t Mandalorian, but I think it’s best to return it to someone it should actually belong to.” She fixes the brooch to the cloak and then turns Din to face the mirror directly. “There. Now you look ready to get married.”

Din runs his fingers through his hair. He might want to get it cut before the wedding, but he knows Cobb likes it when it’s longer and it holds its waves more. He should at least shave. The uneven scruff on his jaw isn’t all that appealing to himself.

“Stars, it’s going to be a mad house on the day of,” Boba says. “Seems like we’ll have to bring the good stuff, Fennec.”

“You’re telling me.”

…

In the days leading up to the wedding, Din sees to the final touches of the house, ensuring the furniture is in place with room for more when they make the final move. He plans on surprising Cobb that day.

They have a good celebration the night before at the cantina, drinks on the house, and then, in Tatooine fashion, the couple are separated the night before. Din is headed off by Boba and Fennec to Din’s new house, and Cobb is dragged away by his deputy Jo to his house.

“Rest up, vod,” Boba says. “You got a long day ahead of you.”

The next morning, Fennec helps him get ready for the day, making sure his hair is just right, and the cloak is sitting on his shoulders just so. Boba is there in his armour, and Din feels a sour note in his stomach that he’s not wearing any of his. He wouldn’t feel right after his expulsion from the clan.

“You still want the Mandalorian vows?” Boba asks.

Din nods. “If you can.”

“I’d be honored, vod.”

And then he’s led out with his friends on either side of him down the main street with everyone and then some—Tuskens, out of town friends, some of Boba’s closer associates—have come out in full force down the street as it’s been fully decorated for the day.

The ceremony itself is held at one end of the town where an arch of bone from bantha horns has been carved as a gift from the Tuskens. And that’s when Din sees him—Cobb, dressed in white with gold trim and with the hood up over his head, a red sash at his waist as if to match Din’s without even knowing. His back remains turned as Din walks up the aisle towards the arch and then he’s standing next to Cobb, shoulder to shoulder, with Cobb’s lifelong friend and impromptu wedding officiator Issa-Or standing before them. Din keeps his eyes forward for now, waiting for the right moment to face his soon-to-be husband head on.

“Now, I know ya’ll have come out and taken time off of your busy schedules,” Issa-Or says. “And we don’t have much time to dilly-dally like they did in the nicer districts in Mos Eisley and the rest. Time wasn’t a luxury for people like us, so we had to make do. Which is why we’re here to see that Cobb Vanth, Marshal here in Mos Pelgo, spends the rest of his days married to none other than a Mandalorian! Someone he chose to let into his life, his home, and share the rest of his time in this mortal coil with.”

Din feels himself blushing, feels a smile breaking out over his face.

“Cobb?”

He sees Cobb lift his head.

“Why don’t you take a look at your man?”

He feels Cobb reach for his hand and Din gently turns with a little prodding. And as he turns, he sees Cobb pushing back his hood, and Din feels as if he could cry at the sight of him.

He sees Cobb’s lower lip tremble before he smiles, as bright as Tatooine’s suns themselves. “Din.” Cobb lifts Din’s hand and holds it between both of his own. Then Cobb laughs despite himself. “First time I’ve been without words in a while.”

There are a few laughs among the crowd.

“Darling, my love. First day I laid eyes on you, I knew I couldn’t let you go. And I am a richer man for having you. Even if I don’t got much but my name and my reputation and the good will of the people before us, I hope to give you everything you could ever need.” Then he raises Din’s hand and kisses the back of it tenderly.

“At this point, we’d say a done deal and have a feast,” Issa-Or says. “But as it is, Din is a Mandalorian, and we want to respect that part of him, so he comes with his own vows.”

She steps aside to let Boba come up.

“If you’ll both repeat after me,” he says. “We are one together.”

“Mhi solus tome,” Din says, quietly, only enough for Cobb and Boba to really hear.

He watches Cobb smiles, the pink curl of his tongue before he’s repeating in Basic. “We are one together.

“We are one when parted.”

“Mhi solus dhar’tome.”

“We are one when parted.”

“We share all.”

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

“We share all.”

“We shall raise warriors.”

“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

“We shall raise warriors.”

“Oya, vod,” Boba mutters.

And Din finds himself feeling bashful, and that’s when Cobb pulls him closer by his hands.

“Now I consider that we’re well and truly hitched now,” he says, and Din rushes in to cup his face and kiss his riduur in front of an adoring and loving crowd.

…

The rest of the day is pretty much a blur of being at Cobb’s side, being dragged away from Cobb, of Cobb being dragged away from him. Dance until his feet ache and he’s dizzy. More food than he’s used to. More drinks than he can tolerate, and falling asleep in a tent when he’s imbued too much with a pink cheeked Cobb next to him.

A few hours of sleep later and they’re back at it again for a more restful filled breakfast and relaxed conversation before finally, the festivities are over and people begin to head back to their business.

“Do you want to go home?” Din asks.

Cobb stretches and yawns, looking exhausted but content with his station in life. “You have read my mind.”

They walk down the street together, their clothes in a state of disarray before Din is leading him elsewhere.

“Babe, where . . .” Then it dawns on him and Din can’t help but smile. “No,” he says.

Din nods. “Come on. Let me show you to our home.”

Cobb is speechless when they enter the new partially buried house. He’s taken by how large it is, how high the ceilings are now, and how cool and inviting it is. Then he rushes forward to kiss Din and hold him close. “Oh, you are full of surprises.”

“Jo told me it’s a custom.”

“Well, not always a custom, but we pride ourselves on being able to provide.”

“Then let me provide for you.”

They kiss again, deeper this time until Cobb pulls back to rest their foreheads together. “Mm. As much as I’d like to christen this place, I’m bushwhacked.” Then he’s pulling Din into the bedroom where they collapse onto the bed as husbands, as riduurs.

…

“Hey, Din. You awake?”

Din stretches out on the bed and opens weary eyes to find Cobb kneeling on the ground next to the bed.

“What time’s it?” he asks.

“Afternoon-ish. Just went out to get some things from the old place, and, um, I guess now is as good a time as any to give this to you.” He sets a bundle of cloth knotted off with string on the bed before Din, and Din rises up on one elbow to look at it.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Din says, tugging at the strings.

“Yeah, well.” Cobb rubs the back of his neck, a nervous tic of his. “I felt like I had to for this one.”

In the cloth is an ornate dagger with its own leather sheath. When Din pulls the blade, he’s mesmerized with how the blade shimmers. A single piece that looks like it’s been carved from onyx.

“Cobb, I—” Then he sees the mark in the hilt of it.

The mark of his tribe. The Mythosaur skull. On the other side is the mark of the mudhorn.

He looks up to Cobb. “Where did you get this?”

“Well, I, I went to your clan.”

Din breathes out and sits up in full with the dagger in his lap. Cobb comes to sit on the edge of the bed.

“When you told me about your customs, and seeing your armour just sitting in our wardrobe for months, I wanted, I wanted to confront your clan. I know things are rocky between you and them, but I went in there to just speak with them at first. Then next thing I know, I’m sitting on the ground drinking tea with your matriarch.”

Din closes his eyes for a moment.

“And I don’t tell her everything, I don’t ream her out or nothing. I know you hold her in high regard. But I told her I was intending on marrying you and I wanted to do it right by you. No one else. So, she said she’d show me how to make something. And each time I visited, she’d ask about you and I’d tell her that, oh, you were a guest speaker in the school today, or you had fixed the power generators. And she’d tell me my smithy skills were shit and tell me to begin again.”

Din laughs. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“Then she asked me why I wanted to marry you. And I told her I wanted to spend the rest of my days making you happy, giving you everything you could ever need. And she said, he deserves it.”

He lifts his head to look at Cobb. “She said that?”

Cobb nods. “I think she misses you. She won’t say it, but she does. I think it’s just taking some time for her and some of the others to come around to this new world order of theirs. But next time I go, I want you to come with me.”

Din nods. “Yes. Yes, I’d love that. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He kisses Cobb several times and holds him close with the knife on the bed spread next to him.

They don’t plan the trip out to Din’s clan for some weeks yet. They have a house to settle into after all. But then one day, they’re setting out on Cobb’s speeder. This time Din is wearing his armour with the knife at his hip. And this time they are facing Din’s clan together as one.

[kashimos-hajime]

reflection (4/8) | r.b.

summary: He thinks that’s what he clings to the most. The Candidates, and the chance to see you again, just to give what he wrote to you. Or, the truth comes out.

WARNINGS: angst!!! swearing, yearning pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 4.9k

a/n: part 4!!! time to get sad!!! a shorter chapter but the next chapters are MUCH longer until the end so enjoy!!

masterlist

crossposted on ao3

Reiner walks all the way back home to grab it. 

His mom was blissfully unmotivated to interrogate him, and he slips the metal tin into his breast pocket, one he bought as soon as he returned to Marley as he leaves the house. It’s similar to the one he used to store Ymir’s letter to Historia. The only difference now is what it contains.

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about it. No one knows he even has this little container of secrets—it’s been hidden underneath his mattress, wedged between it and the frame for four years, only removed on birthdays, holidays, days where he can’t even recall why he should get out of bed which seem to be more and more often as of late. If anyone found out, he’d probably be interrogated, possibly killed.

It’s treasonous, but he can’t bring himself to fling it.

The silence is nice. There aren’t a lot of people in the streets, considering the show. Not even his thoughts are raging against him, and the sun is warm even as it slips below the horizon to make room for the moon. Glancing up at the clouds, purple and yellow and red, he shoves his hands into his pockets and closes his eyes.

The wind curls against his face, all gentle-like, a caress almost, and his heart begins to ache.

“Isn’t that Vice Chief Braun?”

His eyes open, and he catches two kids standing by a mailbox, gaping at him and he smiles softly waving at them.

“Hi, Mister Braun!”

“Get to the show, kids,” he calls back, and they glance at each other, eyes alight with pure joy. It’s enough to make his smile last until they’re gone, and he turns his gaze back to the path he’s walking. With every step, though, the tin in his breast pocket seems to weigh heavier. The faint clinks and scraping noises of metal against metal accompanying his heartbeat, he sighs.

Not for the first time, he hears his mother’s voice in his head, chastising him for not continuing their honorary bloodline, and not for the first time he imagines a home by the sea, with kids of blonde hair and a certain twinkle in their eyes running along the sands.

Reaching up to his breast pocket, he pulls the tin out and cracks it open, looking down as his feet take him to the stage. The sunlight dies, and as the last rays fall on the gleaming metal band inside the metal container, he pinches it in his finger and lifts it up to the orange. The silver winks at him, all mocking, and he shakes his head, looking down at the letters inside.

A thousand apologies, confessions, regrets, inked down in crazed ramblings as his body tried to heal from the battle in Shiganshina on a ship sailing back to Marley. Some written after that. Sometimes, he can barely even look at what he’s jotted down or else he’ll tear it to shreds.

Most of the time, though, he wants to give it to you. He thinks that’s what he clings to the most. The Candidates, and the chance to see you again, just to give what he wrote to you.

Shaking his head, he puts the ring back into the tin and closes it with a tight click before sliding it back into his breast pocket. In the distance, he can hear someone whistling a familiar tune, and he frowns, trying to place it.

He still has some time. He could try to find who’s whistling, or he could just get to the show early. 

It’s not like he’s exactly needed anywhere before hand.

Pricking his ears, he veers off the road and into an alleyway. 

.

Reiner and Bertholdt might be traitors. Maybe it’s both of them, a voice in your head murmurs as you ascend up the wall. 

Armin, why did you trust me to tell me about Annie?

Your shoulder and leg are screaming at you to stop moving, and the pull of the wires at your hips makes you feel like a million pounds as you manage to get to the top of the wall. Mikasa greets you there and you flash her a quick smile, one she returns faintly before procuring something out of her pocket.

Do you think I’m a traitor, too?

“My sling?”

“Put it back in before you lose all feeling in that arm.” You let out a relieved sigh as she helps you unbuckle your gear, and your hips feel like they’re melting at the relief. Sasha comes over as you clutch onto your shoulder. It feels inflamed and swollen under your gentle touch, and you wince as you bend your elbow, sharp pangs slicing through your joint.

“Here, let me help.” Sasha grabs your unequipped ODM gear as Mikasa pulls the sling over your neck and guides your arm through. Your limb feels like a pile of rocks, and you let it hang numbly in the bandage.

Maybe, I’m the weakest link.

“Thanks, guys. Really.” Mikasa only nods, patting you on your uninjured shoulder and you turn to see Eren pulling Reiner up the wall. The mere sight of him sends a shiver down your spine and you look away, clenching your jaw.

Him, a traitor?

Bertholdt gets to the top, climbing out all long-legged and lean, before helping Reiner ease down away from the ledge.

And Bertl? You, too?

Still, Hange’s orders echo in your mind and you remind yourself that nothing’s changed until it’s confirmed. Walking over to him, half-limping, you catch golden eyes and a half-smile. Cross legged, Reiner straightens up when he sees you and you feel a smile pulling at your own face.

What am I saying? How could I ever suspect them? They’d never betray us. We’re… we’re family. Maybe it’s all one big coincidence. Maybe Annie worked alone. That’s how it is, isn’t it? Annie works alone and I’m left hanging.

You wonder if this is why she never answered the letters you wrote to Stohess, asking how the MPs were. Reiner always said it was probably because she was busy. No. No. The more you think on it, the more the convoluted web in your head begins to straighten out and you shake your head.

“Hey.” You reach the boys as Bertholdt walks to the other side of the wall, leaning over with his hands on his knees as if calculating the distance, and his face is so innocently concentrated that you can’t help but stare, imagine him as that giant red Titan with soulless eyes. Electricty dances down your back. Deciding to leave him to his own devices, you slowly sink to a crouch beside Reiner as he reaches out to touch your shin.

“How’s the leg?”

“Been better.” Goosebumps rise along your arms and you swallow tightly. “We’ve got matching slings, now.”

Reiner smiles, and a soft, poisonous voice in your head crows, You never suspected Annie, and look what that got you. Civilians killed like sport.

Your blood chills. Everything feels so sluggish after the long night they’ve had, and they both look it. Your movements are dragged, like you’re swimming through honey as you reach out to touch his arm. He looks like hell’s beaten him up, and Bertholdt straightens up, sends him an uneasy look over his shoulder. Reiner’s flesh is warm through the bandages and a sick curiosity pricks at you.

If you’re really a traitor, you wonder to yourself, what would you do if I… 

You let your fingers push deeper against a mark you feel through the sling only for him to flinch back.

“Son of a bitch!”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry,” you whisper, hushed, and he sends you a scandalized look as Eren looks over his shoulder. “It seems bad.”

“You all right, Reiner?”

“Not by a long shot.” He covers his face with his hand, pain twisting his voice. “A Titan nearly gnawed off my arm. That was… pathetic. I thought I was done for.” Scooting closer, you rest your hand on his shoulder as his eyes slide shut. The words he says next sound like that of a soldier, and your eyebrows screw up as he talks mostly to himself. 

Sharing an uneasy glance with Eren and Armin, you try not to say anything until—

Second time? Second time you nearly died? It bounces off your skull until your mouth opens and the words tumble out before you can stop yourself.

“Annie almost… killed you?” you breathe. Reiner nods numbly, fist to his brow and you look down at the stone. “Reiner…”

Then, you can’t be a traitor, you try to reason quickly. Why would she kill her ally? 

But what about what Armin said? About how Reiner asked about Eren’s location? Carving it into her hand. He was always making excuses for Annie at every turn. For her skipping out on training, her being exhausted and sleeping in. No, this isn’t right. No, no, no—

And that realization only makes you nauseous as you sit back and stare at Reiner’s fractured expression. Reaching a shaking hand up to his face, your entire body freezes as his frenzied gaze stares right through you.

Reiner…

Stomach turning, you glance up at the tall boy who only looks more and more concerned with every passing second. He catches you looking and his eyes only widen even more almost guiltily. Jerking your gaze away, you press your lips into a thin line and look at the blond sitting before you. 

Bertholdt…

Someone calls them over your shoulder and you see it’s Connie. Getting up much too quickly with a groan, you send one last look at Armin and Eren out of the corner of your eye before walking over to the others unsteadily. Your entire body feels tilted, your legs struggling to push forward as if trying wade through thick sheets of ice, and even though Sasha bounds up to help you forward, you don’t think you have ever felt heavier.

What have you done?

With the quick update from Hannes and the unsettling revelation that there is no hole in the wall, you cannot stop your eyes from flitting to Bertholdt again.

He speaks to Reiner as they begin to walk away, and you fall into step beside Mikasa, your limp only more pronounced now that they realize this was all for nothing. The adrenaline is drained from your body, and your boots drag along stone as your shoulders fall forward.

Silent, Mikasa slows down her pace so you can keep up and you stifle your wince with every step as you look out the wall. 

The sky is as grey as ash. It looks like rain, soon. Not good if they have to fight in this weather, for their bodies or for their ODM gear. Visibility might be a near zero. 

Reaching up to cup your shoulder on instinct, you sigh.

“Is your leg okay?” Mikasa finally asks, stopping.

You nod. “It will be.” Glancing back at her, you frown when you realize you’ve walked on without her and turn to look over your shoulder, only to find her glancing back at Reiner, Eren, and Bertholdt. Eyes narrowing at the confused anger warping Eren’s face, a thousand weights slam down into your gut. Mikasa’s stare hardens and you walk back towards her, ears pricking. You can’t make out the words from where you stand with her, but you can read the tone, and by whatever Reiner’s saying, it’s making Bertholdt nervous.

Your spine goes ramrod straight, and suddenly, you wish you hadn’t taken your ODM gear off so early. Glancing back, you wonder if you can ask Sasha to strap you back in before you realize what you’re thinking and your limbs turn to lead.

No, you realize. It’s too late.

When you look back at the three again, a cold stone lodges right next to your heart, chilling you from the inside out.

“Hey, we’re leaving!” Armin calls, but you don’t budge. Neither does Mikasa. Eyes widening, you can only watch as Eren crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head back. Mikasa’s hand moves to her hand grip, unholstering it and sinking it into a blade. The sound of metal scraping makes you blink as the wind begins to pick up. Something clicks. Your heart skips a beat.

Howling in your ears, your muscles lock Eren begins to walk back towards them, but your eyes stay on your best friends as the air seems to shift. It smells like static and iron and something bitter, too. The clouds drift speedily above them, and your boot shifts along stone just as one of the flags snaps in half, the wood splintering under the force of the beginnings of a storm.

Everything freezes.

The only sound is clattering wood against cobble and your rapid heart.

Then, against all odds, sunlight.

It’s blindingly white, streaming through the clouds that drift off in the current, and you swallow. You can hear something rattling and you know it’s Mikasa’s hand on her blades, fingers trembling against the triggers of her gear as gold spears through the dim grey, slamming into the wall and illuminating the stone. Your arm in its sling ways heavier by the second and you shift your forearm against the fabric, your hanging hand rolling into a tight fist.

Your eyes find Reiner’s back, staring as hard as you can, but he only hangs his head and you step forward against your will as his voice grows louder, more deranged. 

The coldness in your chest spreads.

It sinks deep into your muscles, bites into your bones with fangs of steel until you think you hear them break as he lifts the sling off his neck and turns around. 

“But the only choice for me now is to face the consequences of my actions.” Lifting his hand, you can see the blood begin to steam and your mouth drops open when it evaporates off his skin. “And as a Warrior, fulfill my duty to the bitter end.” The flesh begins to close, orange embers flecking off his forearm. Your knees lock.

“Reiner!” Bertholdt’s voice scratches with desperation—the sound of a horrified beast pulled out of its cave too early, too soon and all too against his will. A darkness overtakes his face, and it punctures you as Reiner flicks dried blood off his arm. “Are we doing this? Now? Right here?”

“We settle this… right here! Right now!” 

You force yourself to move, but still, you barely budge as Reiner stalks up to a paralyzed Eren, and you feel it more than see it as Mikasa takes off to a sprint, the sound of metal scraping against metal filling the air. She runs around him, slashing through his arms, blood spraying the stone in sickly splats. Lodging the blade through his forearm, there’s a ragged shout as she whirls around. 

Blood seems to fly everywhere as metal swings to cut Bertholdt down next.

You stand, entranced at the mere sight of it; red droplets splash through the air like the crystalline water in that fountain in Trost, years, no, months, weeks ago. The memory strikes through you like a bolt of lightning, and for a moment, you are not on Wall Rose but in a café sitting in the sun, watching children flicking coins into the water, waiting for someone you weren’t sure would come.

“What do you say to a game of twenty questions?”

“Sounds perfect, creampie. I promise, I’ll be perfectly honest.”

Bertholdt’s ragged wet screams jolt you back into your body, and for a moment that is all you see. Mikasa running towards him as he falls onto his back, clutching at his neck, the image growing clearer and clearer, bigger and bigger, as she pins him down with a boot to a shoulder and a sword in two hands, poised to plunge through his throat. Blood spreads over the floor as his gargled screams, wretched and raw, scratch the heavens.

It is then you move.

Your feet slap against the stone as you lift the sling off your neck and toss it aside. Heart pumping, ears roaring, you don’t recognize what you’re doing until your hands are on Mikasa’s shoulders and you’re wrenching her off with a force you cannot recognize you muster. A burning ignites in your chest, spreading through your entire body, engulfing your heart until it sputters out flames.

For a moment, there is nothing; no colour, no blood, no sound. Only pure instinct and your best friend about to die. 

“Bertholdt!”

Mikasa lets out a infuriated scream, blades flashing in the grey sunlight as she’s thrown back and you whirl around. Frozen over Bertholdt’s body, your eyes meet widened, bloodshot eyes and you whisper his name, fragile and full of broken glass just as the sound of footsteps patter behind you. Turning, you watch as Mikasa’s arms shoot forward, her knuckles white around the hilt of her sword.

Your thighs seize and Bertholdt’s hand lifts weakly, just barely brushing your shin. His lips are moving but you can barely make out a word. Is he speaking? You can’t hear over the blood flowing out of his mouth. “St-stop—“ 

Your heart beats in your head, once… twice… waiting for your legs to bolt into action, for Mikasa to see you.

But she isn’t stopping—not even if you stand in her way, she’ll cut around you if she can but in her eyes, you see it. The one question even you don’t know the answer of anymore.

TRAITOR? TRAITOR? TRAITOR? TRAITOR?

You’re shoved out of the way and blood flashes across your face, landing in warm, steaming droplets. 

Falling aside against hard stone, your ribs explode in pain as Mikasa’s eyes widen. Her sword sinks deeper through Reiner’s eviscerated arm and she jumps back, releasing the blade with sharp, vicious breaths.

You struggle to your feet. Crackling yellow light burns into your irises yet you can only look into Reiner’s eyes as he stares through you, face resolute. 

You think the sight will haunt you for the rest of your days as he only looks at you, as unfeeling as he ever has. Maybe more honest than he’s ever been.

“Reiner!“ You lunge forward but arms hook underneath your own, hauling you back and you kick out your feet as his name is torn from your chest. “Reiner, no!”

“Stay back,” he whispers harshly, turning away, and you struggle to your feet, boots sliding along the stone.

“No…” The word comes out so quietly you think he hears your heart shatter. “No… you—you can’t be—They can’t be right about you. They can’t. I know you! This isn’t you!“

And somewhere, lingering in the back of your mind, is his voice, promising you: “I’ll break you first.”

He doesn’t answer as the clouds begin to gather above them, and you hear Armin scream as your gaze tears to Bertholdt who only stares at you in guilt, regret, fear. Tears trace down his skin, and your hand reaches out for him as Mikasa wrenches you back one final time.

“No! Let me go!”

The other Scouts run towards them but there is nothing anyone can do as lightning spirals down onto the wall and cracks the stone, striking Reiner and Bertholdt. Wind howls in your ears until your skin is burning from the cold, and debris flies past your face. Steam erupts, burning away the numbness as chips of stone fly at your face. Throwing up your arms, you feel shards dig at your skin as hot steam swarms you. Scalded, you let out a piercing shout as you fly back, Mikasa’s arms only tightening around you as they’re flung off the wall.

Activating her ODM gear, she manages to catch them both and you let out a choked groan when you stop abruptly, your shoulder screaming, your body on fire.

Grabbing the arm firmly around your waist, you plant your feet into the wall and look up as ribs sprout from thin air and dig into stone, cracking it easily. Your eyes begin to sting, from tears or from pain, you don’t know. A huge shape appears out of the steam that sears your face. 

Head swimming, you watch numbly as the blistering gales force them into stillness and the giant figure with glowing yellow eyes reaches for Eren.

.

Brushing the itch off your cheek, you adjust your grip on the sack of apples when you see Sasha standing there, packing her bag and you stop when she calls your name, watching for a moment.

“Hey.” 

“Hi,” you reply unsurely. You glance at the stables where you’re supposed to go to make sure your new steed is rested and well fed for their expedition. The past three months have passed in a strange sort of blur for you—whether it’s going to sleep late or waking up when the sun barely rises, sometimes both—you can’t recall ever being so alone. You don’t even remember the last time you spoke to any of your comrades outside of missions. Ever since the coup on the government, you’ve stayed out of the way. You helped mine the crystals from the Reiss Chapel cave, trained with the new Scout recruits, but you didn’t want to go out of your way to talk to them. 

After all, what is there to say? You saved Bertholdt’s life back on the Wall. Even if now it means his powers can be transferred, you hadn’t know that back then. You just didn’t want him to die.

 The blood of the Scouts lost getting back Eren is on your hands.

“Good luck on the mission,” Sasha says at length. You nod. “You could sit with us at the feast tonight.” Lips pulling back, you give her a fake smile. “We miss you.”

“Uh, no thanks, I’m not going,” you tell her. Sasha’s face falls and you look away, eyes fixing on the ground. “I don’t want to put a damper on your guys’ fun. Besides, I have some last minute preparation to do.“

“That’s a lie,” Sasha blurts, and your eyes snap to hers, but her eyebrows are arranged fiercely on her face, a warm determination burning in her eyes. “You’re acting just like you did when you first came to the cadet corps—we’re not strangers, you know? We don’t hate you.”

Your fingers tighten on the sack of apples you have in your hands. “Thanks, Sasha. That’s really nice of you, but I really have stuff to do.”

What you don’t say is that you find that hard to believe. With every waking second, you’re reminded of everything that’s happened. Preparing for the return of Shiganshina had only prompted another round of interrogative looks, whispers behind your back. You suppose you deserve it. Three years, and you’d been the closest to all three of them. What’s to stop you from being a fourth traitor?

There’s coincidence and then there’s correlation, and you’re more than aware of which side you fall on.

“It’s hard to kill your friends. We’re still with you. We understand—“

“I have to kill my family, Sasha. That’s who they are to me,” you murmur stonily, and Sasha’s eyes widen as you meet her gaze wretchedly. “I don’t want to go to the feast, but thanks for inviting me.” Again, quieter, softer, you tell her, “It was really nice of you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You turn to walk into the stables, and you find your horse near the back-middle in the right row of stalls. Horses lift their heads at your approach, and you sigh. This has always been a quiet place for you—horses don’t judge nearly as much as humans do. One of the steeds near the front nudges at your shoulder, and you smile to yourself, retrieving an apple for the stallion before moving on to your own horse.

A pretty dappled grey mare, she nickers at your approach and you reach up to scratch her ear before running your hand down her nose, stroking at the dark grey specks between wide black eyes. Leaning forward, you kiss her snout and she huffs against your cheek.

“Alright, alright.” Reaching into your bag, you retrieve another apple and she lips at the fruit before taking a bite and you smile when she drops it to the ground by your feet, a huge chunk taken out the side. Bending over to pick it up, pangs collide with your chest when you see the juices dripping over the bright red peel.

The sound of hooves against the dirt catch your attention, and you look up, picking up the apple and straightening up again. As soon as you spot black, you already know whose horse it is.

“Captain Levi.” You dip your head to your superior as he passes you, leading his black steed back into the stall next to yours, and he only gives you a brief surveying look. You feed the apple back to your mare.

“I heard you were visting Leonhart earlier today,” he says, pulling the door open and his horse walks in dutifully, turning around so Levi can take the harnesses off.  

Dipping your head, you hold the back tight in one fist and reach to cup your horse’s cheek, stroking the underside of her jaw to her delight. “Yes, sir.”

“She crack?”

“No, sir.”

He hums, as if he expected as much. Your shoulders drop. You know you shouldn’t relax, around Captain Levi especially, but the first month after the revelation of Reiner and Bertholdt had left the captain as your principal babysitter just to make sure nothing was out of sorts with you. 

It meant you had to sleep in separate quarters as the rest of the Scouts, was on Levi’s beck and call with tea, medicine, food, whatever he needed while in the office or otherwise. You had to force him to sleep a couple of times, and although you weren’t in the mood to be persistent, it still nagged at you until the month was up and Levi told you to stop following him.

“I could read out the report I wrote to Erwin for you, if you’d like,” he had said dryly. “Quiet, keeps to herself. Complies nearly to a fault—a model officer of the Survey Corps. Which is what you are. You’re not a caretaker or an administrative assistant. Now stop taling me like a lost duckling and get to work.”

You shake your head and sigh, extending the bag to Levi. “Does he want an apple, sir?” He eyes the bag apprehensively before taking it, pulling the bag open and extracting another gorgeous red apple. Lifting it to his horse, he hands the bag back to you as your horse nestles her head against your chin and you smile to yourself at the warmth emanating from her. 

She must be able to sense whatever’s off about you. Holding her head close, you kiss her quickly before stepping back but she lets out an impatient whinny, neck stretching to bump her nose against your cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whisper. “Get some sleep, girl.” Scratching underneath her chin, you turn to look at Captain Levi who eyes you for a moment, then gestures for you to follow to the back where the tack room is.

“I know what the stakes are for you, but you’re not the only one who is putting everything on the line here,” he says and you nod as he hangs up the leather harness before washing his hands. “Whatever happens, happens. We don’t have time to dissect your guilt over tea anymore.”

“With all respect, Captain, I just don’t think it’s wise for me to come.”

“Commander Erwin thinks differently.” You nod again and Levi meets your stare, flinging off the wet on his hands before grabbing a clean towel and wiping himself off. “We need all the soldiers we can get to reclaim Shiganshina for humanity. That includes you—no matter what your ties are to the enemy. You aren’t having doubts, are you?”

“No, sir.” You swallow, throat bruised. “I’m just scared the moment I look into their eyes, I’ll hesitate. And it’s not because they’re humans,” you add quickly. “Had my fair share of human bloodshed during the coup, but I should be angry, right? I should be so fucking mad, and I think I am, but mostly, I just want them back. There has to be something wrong with me.”

“I’m not here to psychoanalyze you,” he tells you. “But nothing’s wrong with you. You’re probably more sane than most idiots who join the Survey Corps.” Eyes widening, you meet Levi’s impassive stare, but he only continues, “Get something to eat tonight, then get some sleep. This is your nerves talking.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that, he nods to you once more before hanging the towel up and walking past, out the stables. Looking down, your eyes find the sack of apples still in your hand and you lift it up, peering inside. Taking one out, you set the bag inside and head over to the sink nearby, washing the fruit off before looking up at the mirror hanging on the wall.

Closing your eyes, you take a bite and the sweet juices explode in your mouth. Smiling faintly to yourself, you can almost imagine a pair of lips teasing at the corner of your mouth and your heart aches when you realize you can barely remember what it’s like to kiss him.

[imjustwritingg]

pillow talk part 2

Hi friends! This second installment was highly requested here on tumblr and I figured after what happened in 8x14, it was a good time to write it. So here you go friends! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! 🥰

Also on AO3 and FFNet!

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“You jammed me up. That’s not okay.”

His words play over and over in her head as she drives to his apartment. She knows he might not want to see her, the look of disappointment on his face at the crime scene enough evidence of that possibility, but she can’t let the night end without talking to him or at least trying to.

She parks her car and goes inside his building, heart beating wildly in her chest as she makes her way to his door. She rattles her knuckles against it and waits, knocking twice more a few moments later, when there’s no answer, but the door still doesn’t open and it feels as though someone has just punched her in the stomach.

She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and calls him, brings the phone to her ear, but it goes right to voicemail. She ends the call and waits a minute or so before she redials, hoping that maybe he’s on another call and is distracted, but she just gets his voicemail again.

He doesn’t want to talk to her. Doesn’t want to see her. And her stomach lurches, shoulders heaving raggedly as her breath gets stuck in her throat.

She can’t blame him. She had put him in the most compromising position tonight, taken unnecessary risks, and made questionable choices to say the least.

She looks at his door longingly, thinking if maybe she stares hard enough it’ll open and he’ll appear out of nowhere, but the door remains closed and he’s nowhere to be seen.

She turns on her heels and wipes under her eyes at the burning tears threatening to spill over, a horrible ache pulsating inside of her as she walks back to her car and starts to head home, ready to crawl into her bed and try and sleep this night away.

When she finally turns down her street sometime later she spots his truck parked up outside of her building. He’s standing next to his driver’s side door, arms crossed over his chest and head tilted towards the ground. He’s waiting for her and the sight of him makes her heart nearly stop beating.

She can just barely make out the look on his face in the glow of her headlights, but it resembles something a lot like betrayal and it sends a rush of guilt through her immediately.

She parks a few spots behind him and takes a deep breath as she gets out of her car. She tries to somehow prepare herself for whatever he’s about to dish out to her, but she’ll take whatever he has to say because at least he’s there.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you tonight,” she says quietly, approaching him with slow moving steps and a once again fast beating heart as she shoves her hands into her coat pockets.

As she stands in front of him she takes in the soft look of his eyes and the anguish that curtains his face. She realizes it wasn’t betrayal she had seen just moments ago, but sheer disappointment instead, just like earlier at the crime scene, and it guts her again.

“Figured we should talk. I didn’t wanna leave things the way we did at the scene,” he tells her, his voice a matching tone of quiet and reserved.  

“I went to your apartment. Tried calling.”

“My phone died so I just came over,” he says.

She responds with a tilt of her chin towards her apartment building in silent invitation and he follows a few steps behind her inside.

They ride the elevator up to her floor without uttering a word, him standing in one corner and her in another, time seeming to pass too slowly as if taunting her. She glances over at him, but his eyes are down to the floor, lost in his own mind and thinking too hard.

When the elevator finally halts and the familiar ding chimes through the car they step out onto her floor and head for the door of her apartment, him still a few steps behind her and keeping his distance.

She lets them into her apartment, closing the door after him and turning the deadbolt, but she’s quick to notice he doesn’t move any further inside than where he stands by the door.

She steps away from, pulling off her jacket and tossing it over the back of the couch before throwing him a look over her shoulder. “Water? Beer?”

He shakes his head and stays planted where he stands, hands in his pockets now and staring back at her as Hailey moves towards the kitchen island. She leans back against it, crossing her arms in front of her as she looks at him. He still doesn’t move or take off his jacket, and it makes her stomach churn at the memory of them standing in similar positions not too long ago when she had been so certain he was going to leave her.

She knows she made a mistake, a few of them, and she knows she hurt him and the last thing she wants is him to leave or think she wants him to, so she blows out a deep sigh and walks towards him.

“I’m sure you might want your space from me after what happened and I have no right to ask,” she says, words coming out in a rush before she hesitates, breathing out and looking at him with near desperation. “Will you please stay?”

Jay stares back at her for a fraction of a moment and it’s long enough to set her mind reeling in fear that she’s jeopardized everything between them now, but he surprises her like he always does and gives a slow nod.

“If I wanted space I wouldn’t have come. I didn’t think that’s something either of us needed right now.”

His tone is sincere despite the sadness looming over his face and she breathes out in relief as she offers a small smile and takes another step closer towards him. She reaches for his arms, pulls his hands from his pockets, feels his eyes burning into her as she pushes his jacket down over his shoulders.

She drapes it over her arm and holds onto one of his hands, her thumb brushing over freckled skin as she lifts her eyes to his, then whispers, “I’m really glad you came.”

He nods again and gives her hand a quick squeeze, but doesn’t say anything more, just follows her with his eyes when she lets go of him and goes to place his jacket down over hers on the couch. She makes her way back to him and reaches for one of his hands again, twining their fingers together as she leads him into her bedroom.

They fall into their usual routine, one they’ve created and perfected with one another since that first night together many months ago, although tonight it’s silent between them. There’s no mindless small talk or teasing one another from across the room, but it’s still so domestic and easy and somehow comfortable despite the circumstances. It sends an ache through her chest as they do their own thing, but they still do it together. As if they’ve been doing it for a lifetime already.

She strips and changes into a pair of clean underwear, and grabs a t-shirt from the basket of fresh laundry on the floor that has yet to be put away. A mindless chore she’ll save for tomorrow when she has more energy.  

She pulls the t-shirt over her head and when it falls to just above her knees, it’s only then she realizes that the garment doesn’t belong to her, but to the man standing across the room in just his boxers.

She glances over at Jay who quickly catches her eye and looks her up and down as he settles beneath the sheets and leans back against the headboard. “Is that my shirt?”

Hailey makes her way to the bed, pulling her hair out from its ponytail and dropping the tie on her nightstand as she climbs in beside him. She sits in a pretzel position as she faces him and gives a shrug of her shoulders. “I just grabbed it from the basket. I can change if you - “

He shakes his head, smiling fondly at her. “You look good in my shirt Upton.”

The corners of her mouth tip upwards at his comment, but she can’t help fiddling with her hands that rest in her lap.

“I’m sorry,” Hailey breathes out, not able to withstand the awkwardness in the air between them any longer and needing to talk to him, really talk to him. “I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have gone into that house. I put you in a tough spot tonight and I’m so sorry.”

“God, I hate that word,” she scoffs then before he can say anything and runs a hand through her hair. “Sorry. It doesn’t fix anything and I know it’s not supposed to, but apologizing still doesn’t condone what I did tonight.”

He gives a slow nod and glances down and she can tell he’s trying to find the words. The right words because he won’t be mean or raise his voice to try and make a point. Not with her.

She watches the way his shoulders rise and fall with each deep breath he takes, and then he looks back up at her with tired eyes from the stress and the chaos and the worry of the day behind them.

“I accept your apology, but I don’t want you to be sorry Hailey,” he says quietly before releasing a dejected sigh. “I want you to be safe. I want you to be smart. You crossed a line tonight and it was the same exact line you crossed that got you shipped off to the Feds last year.”

“I know,” she says quickly. “I got caught up in it. The case and Voight coming down on me and I started second guessing myself, and then that kid was killed and all I could focus on was finding the guy who killed him. I just didn’t care about doing it the right way. I felt like I had to prove something, but I just ended up losing control again.”

“I get it Hailey. Trust me, I get it. Especially when it comes to kids. And I know the system is flawed and it doesn’t always work the way it’s supposed to, but if tonight had turned out any differently than it did, we’d be screwed right now.”

“You’re right,” she says with another nod, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes because she knows how bad a turn things could have taken with her behavior and the thought alone makes the guilt inside her thicken. “I was so blinded by all of it and I just reacted. I don’t know why I keep doing these things. Crossing lines and pulling people down with me. Pulling you down with me. I was so stupid. I was reckless and I put you in jeopardy.”

Her heart is pounding in her chest, anxiety creeping up on her, as she lifts a hand to run it through her hair again.

“Voight’s not stupid though,” she continues a moment later. “He knows you covered for me. He knows we lied. I don’t want you getting in the middle of those crosshairs, not for me. I don’t wanna cause problems for you. I don’t wanna change who you are because I make dumb decisions.”

He shakes his head at her and leans forward, reaching for one of her hands and holding it tightly between both of his. “I’m not worried about Voight. He’s not exactly the poster boy for doing the right thing. I chose to get out of the car. I chose to follow you inside that house. I made my own decisions and I take full responsibility for that.”

“I put you in that position though!” She groans, blowing out a deep sigh of regret. “You know I didn’t do that intentionally right? You have to know that.”

“I do,” he confirms with a squeeze of her hand. “And you know I’d follow you anywhere Hailey, but it’s a slippery slope that you’ve been walking on and what happened tonight? That can’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” she whispers.

She knows her words are meaningless, but it’s a promise she can still make. One that she’ll follow through on. Because of him, because of them, because he really does make her better. Makes her want to be better.

She’s not sure she deserves the softness of his eyes or the warmth of his fingers wrapped tightly around hers, but she’s never been more grateful for the way he anchors her in place in that moment. The way he keeps her from spinning out completely from the frustration and the guilt of her bad decisions and the events that have transpired over the last few days.

“Um, there’s something else you should know,” she says with caution in her voice and he raises an eyebrow at her curiously. “I had to stop off at the district earlier after we wrapped at the crime scene for paperwork and I told Voight we’re together. Officially I guess.”

“Didn’t he already know? Or at least assume anyways.”

“Yeah, but I also sort of made the suggestion of getting a new partner,” she confesses. “He said he wasn’t gonna split us up though. Said we’re a good team.”

“Well, that’s one thing he’s right about. We’re good together. Always have been,” he tells her. He glances down at their joined hands and then looks back up at her, a curious gaze lingering in his eyes. “Do you really want a new partner?”

She gives a slow shake of her head and a look of regret comes over her face. “I only suggested it because I thought I couldn’t have both worlds, ya know? You and me on the job, you and me here like this. I’m trying to figure it all out, us and the work stuff. I thought I had to give up one to have the other and I’m really glad I didn’t have to do that tonight.”

“That’s good because I don’t want a new partner. I just want you, but I need you to hear me when I say you’re not alone. You don’t have to deal with these things on your own. The cases, Voight, any of it. I know that’s not how you’re used to things, having someone on your side like that, but I’m here Hailey. Let me help you carry some of it, okay?”

He squeezes her hand for good measure and stares at her with his bright green eyes, soft and sweet, one of the only ways he ever looks at her these days. It sets her skin on fire, chest aching, every nerve ending shooting off with so much love and appreciation for the man in front of her. She’s not sure what she’s done to be so lucky to have a partner like him, not just on the job, but in life as well, and it makes everything inside of her ache in the best possible way.

She nods, looking back at him with a teary eyed smile and bringing her free hand up to her face to wipe at her eyes.

“I really love you, you know that? I swear I don’t deserve you,” she tells him. “And that’s not me being self-deprecating or cynical, it’s just me appreciating what I have. What we have. I got really lucky with you.”

He grins at her instantly, the sound of her saying she loves him being one of his favorite things and because he knows exactly what she means. Their track records in dating and relationships and love have all been a wash. Nothing tangible, nothing to hold on to, to depend on. But this thing with them, this unadulterated thing with its strong foundation and an ability to communicate so perfectly, even when it’s hard, reminds him that this is the kind of thing they’ll be talking about years from now.

When they’re old and grey and still together, still talking, still loving, still trusting. Their story will be the one people ask to hear about at parties and dinners and holidays. The one that people will hear when the question is asked, “How’d you do it for so long? How’d you make it work?”

He already has his answer for when those questions are asked. It’s the same one he whispers to her now in the quiet of her bedroom and the soft glow of a bedside lamp.

“It helps having a good partner.”

Her smile widens at his words and she drops her free hand down on top of his, plays with his fingers and squeezes them against hers.

“This is becoming our new thing, ya know?”

“What’s that?”

“This pillow talk business. Our old thing was some dive or Molly’s over beer, but I gotta say I much prefer my bed,” she tells him with a grin that matches his.

“Well, I do love your bed. I might love you just a little bit more though,” he says.

It’s tooth achingly sweet the way the words roll of his tongue so easily and it has her rolling her eyes, but she can’t rid herself of the smile stretched out over her face.

It still amazes her, still makes her head spin, how they can go from talking through such serious topics of conversation, of hashing things out, to teasing one another so playfully, so intimately.

The last few days have made her second guess everything. Her ability to be a cop, to be better, to separate her work life and her personal life with him. She knows it won’t be easy, but she knows they’re going to make it. They’ll make it work.

She doesn’t have much time to dwell on the thought of it not working out with the way he smiles at her still. His eyes soft and glistening with so much love and affection as he stares at her.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Jay says then, as if reading her mind, but she doesn’t even question it. He’s always been able to read her. Know exactly what she’s thinking. Exactly what she needs.

“Yeah, we are,” she agrees with another tight squeeze of their joined hands.

“Come here,” he says with a tug of her hand.

She lifts herself to her knees to crawl the short distance to him and he pulls her down beside him. He helps her settle under the covers, their bare legs tangling together beneath the sheets, and his arms wrap her up in a cocoon of love and safety that only he has ever been able to provide her.

Her head lies against his shoulder and her arm falls across his torso, hand resting on his stomach and their eyes stay on one another in a tender gaze. She drags her fingernails over his skin in feather light caresses and he moves his arm up her shoulder to glide his hand through her hair.  

“This is my favorite part of every day,” she mumbles into his shoulder.

“Mine too,” he says, angling his head down to press his lips against her forehead. His lips linger there, pressing into her skin again, then once more before he pulls back to look her in the eyes.

“I wish I could do tonight differently,” she finds herself whispering as she stares at him. “I wish I could take it back.”

He knows instantly by the sound of regret laced in her words and the sudden appearance of sadness clouding her eyes again.

“What’s done is done. Whatever happens as a result, we’ll deal with it together,” he says squeezing her side. A gentle nudge reminding her they’re okay, that he’s got her, that things will be okay.

She turns her face into his shoulder, pressing a kiss against his bicep and moving her hand up to his chest, right over top of where his heart lies under skin and muscle and bone. It beats slowly beneath her palm, another steady, gentle reminder that he’s still there with her, that she hasn’t ruined this, them. That he’s still in it.

He stretches over her for a moment to switch off the lamp on the nightstand on her side, and then his arm falls back around her. He tightens his hold on her just a fraction more around her body as he tilts his head and kisses the top of hers before they settle into the softness of the bed and each other.

She’s always wondered how couples could sleep this way, cuddled together so closely like they show in movies and on television. She had always thought it couldn’t be comfortable for either person, but as she lies in bed with him, nestled under covers with her body pressed up against his and his arms holding her tightly, she realizes she wouldn’t want to fall sleep any other way. Wrapped up beside him is her favorite place to be. Her own little safe haven where nothing can hurt her or cause her pain or make her feel like less of who she is.

She’s never been dependent on anyone. Hasn’t ever needed anyone until him. But it’s not because she’s that kind of person, someone who needs a relationship or a significant other to make her feel better about herself or to quiet the voice in her head that whispers she’s not good enough, not worthy enough.

It’s because he makes her better. Makes her want to be better despite her actions tonight. He makes her feel invincible. Like she could face any battle and win a million times over because he has so much faith and trust in her, so much unwavering love for her.

She’s certain that regardless of everything that has happened over the last few days they really will be okay. That this thing between them is going to last, both their relationship and their partnership, that they’re it for one another. They’re the endgame.

[ravs6709]

The Girl Who Didn't Cry- Lee Jihye Centric

Read on ao3 here. (Tbh, recommend you read it there, it's around 17k words)

I'd originally planned this to come out back in March 8 for orv ww, but I got busy and this got long. It's basically just a fic of her grief from beginning to end (so spoilers for everything throughout, and lot of canon scenes are used because I wanted to explore povs)

Relationships are meant to be all platonic

I just think ljh is cool, and there's not enough stuff about her... (the title is a quote from orv theatre arc, and I have feels)

Warnings: General orv warnings (canon typical violence, death, grief), vomiting in one scene

•~•~•~•~•~•

[The constellation, 'Maritime War God' encourages you to keep on going.]

Lee Jihye ignored the message and instead closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she would be sprawled on her bed, buried in blankets. Or maybe she'd wake up to her best friend poking her face to get her to wake up because she accidentally fell asleep in class again.

When she opened her eyes, she would wake up from whatever sick, twisted nightmare that she was having.

When she opened her eyes, everything remained the same, the notification still in front of her blocking her view of the bloodstained wall.

[The constellation, 'Maritime War God' knows that you can get through this.]

"What the f*ck," she whispered, her first words in a few minutes.

Those three words could not even begin to express a proper reaction to what had just happened. She relaxed her hands, only just realizing that her nails were digging into her skin. It was nearly enough to pierce it.

Well, she thought idly, looking at a stats window similar to ones that she'd seen in video games; with her strength stat it probably wouldn't even be hard to draw blood. But if she had such a high strength stat, shouldn't she have had the strength to not be in this situation in the first place? Shouldn't she have had the strength to not kill her best friend?

"What do I do?" Lee Jihye asked, pointedly looking away from the ground. If she looked down, she would cry again, and if she cried she would break.

⸢"Hey crybaby,"⸥ she could hear Na Bori say.

No. She wouldn't cry again. She wouldn't.

[The constellation, 'Maritime War God' warns that the area will become dangerous, so it is best to start moving.]

She had to keep moving? How exactly was she supposed to keep on moving, when the person who'd been so dear to her was dead? But she had to… she had no choice but to keep on moving.

Not looking down, Lee Jihye exited the classroom and went to her locker to change into her PE pants, then went to the gym to look for something that she could use as a weapon.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Despite the fact that she only had a baseball bat as a weapon, getting to Chungmuro wasn't as hard as she thought it was going to be. There was the occasional rat that came charging through the tunnels, but her Ghost Walk skill allowed her to land a few sneak attacks on them. And if the situation seemed too dangerous, she could use it to flee.

⸢"Oh crap," Na Bori whispered, yanking Lee Jihye backwards. "I see a teacher, we'll have to move quietly."

Lee Jihye peered around the corner of the wall so she could take a quick peek. When she saw the face of the teacher, she quickly moved back and sighed.

"Hey Bori," she whispered, making sure to be even quieter than before. "Remember that teacher I had last year that I hated?"

Na Bori tilted her head in confusion, before understanding dawned in her eyes. "Don't tell me…"

Lee Jihye nodded. "Yeah, him. I swear that he can hear everything, it's ridiculous."

Na Bori scowled. "Ew, how are we supposed to get past him? The exit to the school is so close…"

"You go first. Wait for me by that dumpster."

Lee Jihye kicked a locker and ran to distract the teacher. That gave Na Bori the chance to sprint for the exit. Lee Jihye hid in one of the empty classrooms, and once the coast was clear, she began making her way to the exit. She moved extra carefully, making sure that her shoes wouldn't squeak against the floor.

The teacher was back where he'd been standing, but he was on his phone, back facing towards a wall. Lee Jihye moved past him as silent as if she hadn't even been there, and got to the exit. She walked over to the dumpster that Na Bori was waiting by.

"Did she get caught?" she could hear her murmur.

Lee Jihye placed a hand on her shoulder. "Bori-yah, I'm here now!"

"Holy crap!" Na Bori shrieked. "You're like a ghost or something, I didn't even hear you!"

She laughed. "Aw, were you scared?"

"I was not!"⸥

Sneaking past those floating purple enemies was significantly harder than sneaking past a teacher or even the ground rats. But it was nothing that she couldn't handle. The real issue though was Chungmuro itself. Some old man named Gong Pildu and a bunch of his friends were hogging the biggest green zone in the entire station.

Upon realizing that the green zones were required to survive the night, she tried asking them if she could stay, but they charged her a stupid amount of coins. They didn't even let her take a few minutes to just use the washroom! It was ridiculous!

Lee Jihye held her head up high, ready to challenge Gong Pildu.

⸢Hold your head up high Jihye," Na Bori told her, using a hand to tilt her head up. "That bully keeps picking on you because you make it easy for her."

"She's not going to leave me alone just because I defended myself once," Lee Jihye pointed out. "She'll just find a new way to torment me."

Na Bori hummed. "I guess you're right. Still, hold your head high. It makes you look confident, and when you look confident, the less people want to mess with you.⸥

But then she remembered the large turrets that were assembled within seconds that had shot holes through someone who didn't have enough coins to pay.

She looked down and ran off, ignoring the laughter that came from the group. It was only when she left the station that she slowed down to a walk.

"Damn it, I can't even do that much," she muttered.

[The constellation, 'Maritime War God' informs you that you made the right choice. The group would have been too strong.]

"That is not helpful at all. Still, did I have to run away so pathetically like that? They probably think I ran off crying or something."

Admittedly, Na Bori wouldn't have tried to fight the group, and maybe she wouldn't have tried to talk back. She would, however, not have run off like a coward.

"Hey, you okay?" A voice asked.

Nearby was a group of teenagers and young adults. The one who spoke looked concerned, he probably heard her talking out loud. After telling them that she was fine, she offered to lead them to Chungmuro Station. It also helped clear her mind from earlier.

[The constellation, 'Maritime War God' warns you to watch out!]

Lee Jihye swung her bat at a ground rat, but she was late on the timing and it bit the bat. The bat was torn from her grasp and she no longer had any weapons to fight with. If that wasn't bad enough, there were even more rats that came out of nowhere. Neither her nor the group would be able to defeat them, and Ghost Walk wouldn't do much when there were too many targeting her.

Was this it? After everything, was she going to die? One of the ground rats lunged, its mouth open wide.

I'm sorry, Bori—

A black blur rushed in front of her, and the rat's head was cut off within moments. That black blur moved on to the other rats, each slice of the sword cutting off the head cleanly.

"Who are you?" Lee Jihye blurted, because holy crap that guy was strong.

"Yoo Joonghyuk," the man said, turning to look at her.

"How'd you learn to fight like that?"

The stress that came from almost dying was replaced with the excitement of seeing someone so strong. He moved with ease and no hesitation, strong enough to kill the rats in one blow.

"Training," he answered curtly, his black coat fluttering.

"If I follow you, can I become stronger too? Will I be able to survive in this sinking world?"

He nodded. "If you come with me, I will teach you how to fight."

Lee Jihye nodded enthusiastically, then nodded even harder when he took out a longsword and handed it to her. She slid it out of its sheath and stared at it with wide eyes. It was still shining as if it were brand new. He was really going to give this to her?

"Thank you Master!"

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Who does that ahjussi think he is?" Lee Jihye grumbled, glaring at the stairs that led to Gong Pildu's room. Then, louder, "Master, can we kill him?"

She'd grown stronger under Master's guidance, and he was really strong. The two of them were surely capable of killing Gong Pildu.

Instead, he looked at her blankly. "No. He'll be useful for the next scenario."

"Can we kick him out of the room at least? It's because of him that so many people aren't able to survive the nights."

"The people are going to die anyway."

The words were said with a dark certainty, and if Lee Jihye were a better person, she'd argue that the people deserved to be helped. That if they were going to die, they should at least have the chance to fight for their lives.

But Lee Jihye was not that person. She looked at those dying people and knew that they had no chance. (Just like how she knew someone who was never given a chance.)

And if Master—the strongest person that she'd seen—knew that there was no chance, then there really wasn't. There wasn't any point. Any thought of remorse or guilt she shoved into the back of her mind along with the other many things she refused to think about.

(Or, shoved there until even that part of her mind overflowed with thoughts. Shoved there until she had some privacy, even from the constellations as they instead watched the ground rats tear apart the people who weren't able to get a room. It was much more exciting than watching Lee Jihye trying and failing to sleep.)

She did go out and hunt food for everyone at the station though. With her strength, she was capable of hunting for everyone, and then she'd give the meat to Master to cook. She wouldn't protect them, but she could do that much at least.

During one of her patrols around the station, she found another group of people wandering. It'd been a few days since anyone had arrived at the station, so she was surprised.

"Who are you?" she asked, raising her blade. "Don't you know that this is our hunting grounds?"

"Ah, this girl..!" The brown haired woman gasped.

Before Lee Jihye could ask what she'd meant by that, she noticed a purple stone in the hands of one of the men.

"Did you guys beat the spectres?" she asked, surprised. "How did you… I thought only Master could catch them?"

The spectres were the weird floating purple monsters that she'd avoided on the way to Chungmuro. She tried telling Master that she could handle them now, but then he told her that their power was to trap people in illusions of their nightmares.

That had been enough to get Lee Jihye to shut up. She could hardly bring herself to think about Na Bori, but if she was forced to relive that memory…

It was a really good thing that she'd avoided them.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Lee Jihye took the group to Chungmuro. A group of old drunk men that she was familiar with had a conversation with them, and tried to scam them, but she quickly put a stop to that by pointing her sword at the men.

The men paled. "This young child has already learned bad things."

She already had learned many bad things. She committed what should have been the unthinkable. What those men thought of her didn't matter, not when the person whose opinion she valued most was gone.

The men fled, not daring to risk her wrath. They'd already seen her kill someone innocent so she could get a room.

Right as she turned to leave, one of the men in the group she brought over—the one who'd fought the spectres—called out for her.

"Is Yoo Joonghyuk here?"

She spun around and stared at him warily. "Who are you?"

Who was this man that he knew Master?

"I am a companion of Yoo Joonghyuk who has come back alive."

She narrowed her eyes at him. What a load of crap. Master took her in, but he never actually considered people to be his companions. "Companion, how is that possible?

The man only shrugged. "That guy will know when you tell him. Where is he now?"

"Master isn't here right now."

"Really? This is difficult, I have something I need to tell him."

Lee Jihye left them so she could find Master, so he could deal with the situation himself.

To her surprise, Master didn't immediately try to kill him, and they actually seemed to know each other.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Lee Jihye," Master said, "I have a job for you."

"What is it, Master?" she asked excitedly. This would be the first time that he needed her to do something.

"I'm going to the Daehan Cinema," he pointed at the movie theatre beside them, "I need you to stay here and guard the entrance. Don't let anyone in. I should be back before night. If not, survive the night and come back immediately. "

"Yes Master!"

Lee Jihye waited there. She heard voices talking on the floor beneath her, the floor with the landlords. She could also hear Kim Dokja, the man from earlier talking to them.

"Of course, under the condition that you bring both women with you," a landlord said.

"Tell him that I'll think about it," Dokja ahjussi replied.

Lee Jihye gritted her teeth at the laughter that emerged. Footsteps grew louder as Kim Dokja started climbing the escalator that led up to where she was. What was he doing? With a grin, she activated Ghost Walk and quickly ran behind him. She unsheathed her sword and pointed it at his neck.

"I'm disappointed, ahjussi."

Not just by what he'd said to the landlords, but also his bad reaction time. If she'd actually tried to kill him, she could have easily done it.

"Don't you know what will happen to those women if you make a deal with them?"

She wouldn't do much about the deaths that happened so frequently, but those men had much worse intentions than murder.

"I know," he said calmly.

She put away her sword and they walked towards the entrance. She made sure to dash ahead so she could block his path.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked.

"Why are you standing there?"

"Master told me to defend the place." She mimed slicing a neck with her hand, warning him that if he tried anything, she'd kill him. Whether he was Master's companion or not, she wasn't letting him past.

"I need your help."

"My help?"

"Today, I'm going to take down Gong Pildu and his party."

She narrowed her eyes. This man? This man was going to be the one to take down Gong Pildu? "Are you serious? Ahjussi isn't strong enough. You won't be able to get rid of them."

"Even if you help me?"

Really? He was asking for her help? Part of her felt eager, but then she remembered her failed attempt at challenging the landlords.

"I have a plan," he continued, "and I can pull it off if you help me."

She'd gotten a lot stronger since then. She'd barely been able to fight off ground rats, and now she hunted them. She had a weapon, and some experience with it. "Master told me to stay here."

"If you don't help me, most of the people here will die."

"The people will die anyway," she said flatly, just like Master had said to her. It wasn't like she wanted them to die, but what else could be done?

"Did Yoo Joonghyuk say that? The boy we talked to yesterday is dead. Don't you understand?"

The same boy who asked if she was okay when she was almost spiralling from self-loathing. The boy who was enthusiastic about Master and helped showed the newcomers around. She hadn't seen him die, but she could easily guess that he died during the night without a room to protect him.

"...I know."

"Maybe he could've lived. Then today, he'd be rushing out at us to talk about Yoo Joonghyuk."

"That—"

"Yoo Joonghyuk killed him. Yoo Joonghyuk could have saved him."

Other than the landlords, her and Master were the two strongest people at the station. Dokja ahjussi was right, Master—she could have done more. But she wasn't a good person, she was awful.

"I saw the video of your scenario when I was on the subway."

Her eyes widened, and she couldn't stop herself from trembling. What?

"It was a video where you killed your friend to survive."

⸢"Jihye-yah…"⸥

"Stop," she whispered.

"In fact," Dokja ahjussi continued, cruel fingers clawing into her brain, carelessly picking out all of the things that she'd refused to think about. "You didn't want to do that."

⸢"I'm sorry, Bori-yah."⸥

"What do you know?" She spoke through gritted teeth, her jaw clenched so hard her head began to hurt.

"I just know what I know. Of course, I don't actually know, I'm just talking to myself. But while I'm talking, I'll say this. If you turn away today, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

Her eyes stung with the sudden emergence of tears, and forced herself to will them away. She would not cry. With all her strength, she looked at him blankly as she tried to filter through all of those thoughts that he carelessly extracted from her brain. He… he was right. She would regret it, and deeply. She wasn't a good person, but it wasn't like she wanted those people dead.

Master had the power to save so many of them, but he wouldn't. She admired him for his strength, found him to be one of the coolest people she knew. But… but maybe he was wrong about what he'd said. The people deserved a fighting chance, they could even live, but it could only happen if they were given that chance. Maybe she could give them that chance.

(Would a bad person think about the dying innocents so frequently? Would a bad person wish to save those people, only not doing so because they hadn't seen the point when deaths were meant to happen anyway?)

Dokja ahjussi stood there patiently, awaiting her answer.

"If I help, will all the people here be able to live?" she couldn't stop the hope from seeping out.

The emotion startled her, she hadn't felt hope since the scenarios had begun, and she thought that she wouldn't feel like that again.

"Not everyone, but some will be able to survive."

That light feeling that had been beginning to take root was being smothered. Yet hope still remained, even if only a little bit.

"What should I do?"

He told her his plan, and though he found his plan to be ridiculous—and she made sure to tell him so—she'd made her choice. She'd told him that she'd think about it, but the choice had already been made since the beginning.

Once he went back down the stairs, once he left her alone, the tears that she'd been fighting back were let out. This time she had no privacy from the constellations, nothing to distract them from seeing her like this.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Lee Jihye did what had been asked of her, and destroyed as many of the green zones as she could. She watched as Dokja ahjussi's group destroyed the other ones too, including the giant one that Gong Pildu had been living in.

The third scenario changed, all the ground rats that usually came out during the night came pouring like a flood. Dokja ahjussi made sure to break the stairs so no one would escape.

Wait, what? That wasn't a part of the plan! How was this supposed to save anyone? She initially panicked, but eventually all the people below the stairs worked together to fend off the monsters. Lee Jihye sat at the top peacefully, just watching them all fight for their lives.

It was cathartic—enjoyable, even— to watch them fight for their lives the same way all the ordinary people had to. So while she felt bad for them, she also felt that they deserved it.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Get down everyone!" a soldier yelled.

⸢Soldiers ducked down to avoid the barrage of gunfire coming from the enemy ships.⸥

Three hundred ships surrounded them, but Lee Jihye could hardly pay attention to that. The ship rocked, the waves loud, and it made her feel a little queasy.

⸢"Hey, you're doing alright?" Na Bori asked. "You look a little sick?"

Lee Jihye shrugged. "I'm fine, the ocean just makes me mildly queasy sometimes."

Na Bori reached for her hand. "Do you want to leave? I wouldn't like it if you threw up here."

"It's not that bad, don't worry."

She leaned back against the seat and smiled. Na Bori turned back towards the movie screen, looking delighted as Yi Sunsin managed to win the battle with only his thirteen ships, despite being vastly outnumbered. Between the look on Na Bori's face and her hand still in hers, the nausea she felt could easily be ignored.⸥

The ship jolted from another attack, and she grabbed the nearest surface to hold on to. She held on the rail, taking deep breaths to stay stable, though she was still a little unstable from one of the earlier movies. But this, this was worse, everything about this was awf—her stomach lurched and her throat burned as she threw up.

She couldn't. She couldn't do this.

[The constellation, 'Maritime War God' is sorry for you.]

She knew what he wanted. Her sponsor wanted her to take command and win the battle, just as he had. But…

"I can't," she rasped. "I can't do it!"

[The constellation, 'Maritime War God' is encouraging you.]

"Never! I will never do i—"

A particular violent rock of the ship caused her to puke once more.

[The constellation, 'Maritime War God' is looking at you with sad eyes.]

Her body was grabbed and shaken, and she could only vaguely tell that it was Dokja ahjussi.

"Lee Jihye, stop it, quickly."

"I don't want to! Urgh… the three of you can handle it!"

"Can't you endure it a little bit?"

Endure? Endure this? Endure being in the movie that her best friend liked? Endure the fact that in this situation, she had to act as the movie's protagonist?

"Endure? Ahjussi doesn't know."

"No, I know."

What?

"The reason you're like this isn't because you're seasick, it's because your dead friend liked this movie."

⸢Jihye-yah…"⸥

"How… how did you—"

"Don't ask how I know, there's no time to explain."

She looked up at him, trying to force back the tears that hadn't started flowing yet.

"You killed your friend so you could die like this?" Dokja ahjussi sounded so, so cruel, pinning her into place even when a hook was launched at her.

He grabbed her and yanked her away, and she couldn't stop herself from shaking.

"You can run away here right now, or you can stay and fight. You'll never be forgiven. But if you wake up now, you can at least save some people."

Lee Jihye trembled as he brought her towards the fighting. She didn't have the strength to resist. All she could do was watch as the Japanese soldiers surrounded the others.

"Lee Jihye! Wake up now!"

"I-I'm disgusting. I… I don't deserve to be alive."

How could someone like her, who had killed her own friend to live, deserve to live on? All those tears she'd been suppressing came pouring out like a storm.

"Survive and take responsibility! Atone for the rest of your life or live a garbage life. Just somehow survive!" Dokja ahjussi turned to her, his eyes somehow colder than they'd been before. "Or do you really want to die here?"

I don't want to die, she thought.

⸢"You must live."⸥

She had to live, she had no choice. Whatever had driven her to kill Na Bori, she needed to use it again and make the choice to live.

[The constellation 'Maritime War God' has responded to the will of 'Lee Jihye'.]

[The character 'Lee Jihye' has received a new stigma.]

Pointing her sword forward, she activated her new stigma Ghost Fleet, and summoned the other twelve ships she needed to win the battle. Whatever she needed so she could live.

•~•~•~•~•~~

The relationship between Master and Dokja ahjussi… Lee Jihye found that it explained a lot about both of them. Dokja ahjussi had looked annoyed at the idea, but there was no mistaking his actions. They probably had an argument, which explained why they seemed so stiff yet also familiar with each other.

It changed her viewpoint on the two of them. It seemed to make more sense as to why Master was so closed off, it was because he'd lost someone he loved.

It made the silences between them less stifling. It'd take a while for him to admit that he cared for Dokja ahjussi, or even her, but his actions would prove otherwise.

After all, why would have taken her in on that day, why decide to train her? Master didn't seem like the type of person to recruit or put up with someone solely on impulse. Maybe taking her in at first was just looking at who seemed strong, maybe her sponsor had something to do with it.

But he didn't have to put so much effort into training her. Most of it was the basics, learning to swing a sword effectively, but he indulged her whenever she insisted on sparring with him, even when he was way stronger than she was. All he had to do was make sure she survived, but as much as he tried not to show it, he did more than that.

•~•~•~•~•~•

As Master and Dokja ahjussi began working together more often, Lee Jihye began to see more of Dokja ahjussi's group more often. She'd fought with Heewon unnie and Lee Gilyoung back in the theatre dungeon, and knew Sangah unnie from her leading Chungmuro Station, but she hardly knew Hyunsung ahjussi or Shin Yoosung. She'd also met Sooyoung unnie after.

Even Dokja ahjussi himself. He could be rude and was ugly and not as cool as Master was, but she couldn't help acknowledging him for everything that he'd done.

And they… they began to feel almost like a family to her. Lee Jihye honestly didn't know if her parents were still alive or not. She never had the time to check her house when the scenarios first started—forced to run underground. She'd almost tried going to her house briefly when she'd been teleported to Taepung, but she couldn't bring herself to actually do it. It'd been weeks at that point. What if they weren't even there?

What if they were?

What would they even think of her if she saw them again? What would they think of her when they learned that she'd killed Na Bori? Of how much blood was on her hands?

She was too scared to try and reach out to them, too scared to know their condition. It was easier to stay blissfully ignorant with the family that she'd created, people who may not necessarily know what she'd done, but had supported her through the scenarios nonetheless. As long as she had them, things would be okay.

So when the dokkaebi announced that the strongest incarnation in Seoul was Kim Dokja, only to announce moments later that the scenario for the sacrifice of the strongest incarnation had been cleared, she was in disbelief. She knew Dokja ahjussi, she knew how he was. He constantly deceived the dokkaebis and the constellations; it would be easy to cheat the scenarios too.

“Dokja-ssi has a skill that allows him to resurrect,” Heewon unnie told the group.

Lee Jihye had vaguely heard about something like that happening during the Disaster of Floods fight, but she hadn’t seen it for herself.

“We just have to find his body,” Hyunsung ahjussi continued. “He's probably resurrected by now, and he’ll find us soon.”

But none of them had actually seen him in a while, so they silently agreed to go look for him. To her horror, his body was found, lifeless. It’d been over an hour, which according to the others was more than enough time for him to revive. Was he… was he really dead? They waited longer to make sure that he actually would resurrect, but then he didn’t, not even after two days.

A Hwarang began digging to bury his body, and Lee Jihye could only stare in shock. Dokja ahjussi… the strongest incarnation…

“Ahjussi, wake up! Is this a joke?"

His body remained unmoving as he was placed into a coffin, as Min Jiwon told his tale to all who were at the funeral. He was silent, he wasn't saying anything, he wasn't there to smile at them.

Lee Jihye tried holding back her tears, but eventually she snapped. "Where did Master go? Master could save ahjussi! Where is Seolhwa unnie?"

Master wasn't even around, and she knew that he wouldn't actually be able to do anything about it.

"Ahjussi," she cried, her tears breaking through the dam she'd held up.

She kneeled down next to the coffin until she was forcibly dragged away so it could be buried. Over the next week, she visited a few times, until the next main scenario started.

Dark Castle. She went into the scenarios on her own, not knowing what to do with herself. She was strong, she would do okay. That's what she told herself. But that confidence was merely fueled by her grief and guilt, and she thrusted herself into the scenarios so she wouldn't have to think about it. It was the only way she knew how to do so.

That recklessness would cost her, because the difficulty of the scenario was way worse than the previous ones. She was lucky that she was able to find a protective barrier, even if it was only temporary.

"I wish Dokja hyung…" Lee Gilyoung said from beside her.

"Don't say useless things, fool. You've been hurt so go to sleep," she told him. He fell asleep after he was hit on the head.

"Ahjussi isn't dead. I don't know how I know, but that's what I feel," Shin Yoosung added.

Why did they keep bringing him up? He was dead! No amount of wishing would bring back a dead person.

"That person is in hell," she said bitterly. Just forget about that ugly face."

She and Shin Yoosung then discussed Dokja ahjussi's appearance, and she realized that she didn't really know what he looked like. She briefly wondered that if it took this little time to forget, how much would she forget in the future?

"You cried so much at his funeral," Shin Yoosung pointed out.

"I was just acting, you idiot. The constellations donated many coins to me."

[Some constellations ask Lee Jihye if it was really acting.]

She bit her lips. She hated admitting it, but it wasn't an act. She really was crying for real, like some crybaby. But… she owed a lot to him. He really helped her get through the previous scenarios, as much as she didn't want to admit it.

The barrier that was protecting the three of them from the monsters had only one minute left. "Yoosung, take Gilyoung with you when I give the signal."

"What?"

"Listen to me."

It was odd, doing something like this. She wasn't the type of person to sacrifice herself like this, maybe that was why Na Bori was the one to do it back in the first scenario. If given the chance, would she have done the same? But that didn't matter now, right now she was making this choice, she'd decided that this was what she was going to do.

"Quick! Run and ask for help! Do it before I go to hell!"

There probably wouldn't be anyone nearby to protect her. But she needed the two children to be safe.

The barrier went down and the two children ran, while Lee Jihye rushed forward.

"I don't want to die," she muttered.

"I want to live."

She did, she really did want to live. Not just for other people, but for herself too.

Light descended in front of her, and there was a man there, a man with a face she didn't know, but she also knew it at the same time.

It was Dokja ahjussi.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Somehow, Dokja ahjussi dying became a regular thing. The next time it had happened, it was right after the garter belt incident.

She still wasn't even over that. Dokja ahjussi wasn't her favourite person, but why was his affection score for her only six points? The others all had at least forty points! She didn't even get to see his score for Master! (Okay, realistically, she knew that there wasn't actually a relationship between the two, but there was a lot of tension between them, and it was fun to think about).

His next death had been right after he fought the Outer God and defeated it. It wasn't as shocking, because now she knew that he would resurrect after three days. But still… he died for them, and he shouldn't have had to.

She'd need to be stronger so he wouldn't have to do that again. She trained as much as she could, and tried getting Master to teach her skills that weren't from the constellations, but there wasn't much that she could do.

But her getting stronger wouldn't be enough, not in this world, where the constellations sacrificed their probability all to kill one person.

She could only watch in disbelief as Master and Dokja ahjussi fought for the jade that would transform them into the demon king, only for Dokja ahjussi to win that fight.

She and all her other companions were forced to fight him. Master was the one to land the finishing blow, and she didn't even think about wondering what something like that could mean. All she could think of was Dokja ahjussi, and what Master could do to bring him back. Master knew so much about the scenarios, if anyone could bring Dokja ahjussi back, he would.

"Master!" she screamed. "Say something!"

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know what happened to Kim Dokja."

No. It couldn't be.

Her heart and mind felt like it had been shattered into thousands of pieces, similar to what it had felt like when Na Bori had died. She'd only recently been able to piece those shards back together, only recently had begun to let herself truly live—only for her heart to break all over again.

She wasn't even allowed to have the time to grieve, they all had to leave Seoul. With Dokja ahjussi gone, they didn't know what to do, so they all spent their time trying to deal with the Kim Dokja sized hole that he'd left behind.

She involved herself with her companions, she spent a lot of time with Heewon unnie, or training. Master wasn't even around, he'd gone out on his own. She cleared the scenarios to the best of her abilities, because what else could she do?

•~•~•~•~•~•

Lee Gilyoung pulled out a 100 won coin.

"What are you doing?" Shin Yoosung asked.

"If I flip the coin and it lands on heads, Dokja hyung is alive."

"Don't be stupid," Shin Yoosung replied. "That's not going to bring ahjussi back!"

Lee Jihye sat on a chair nearby and watched them.

"I'm sure he's alive, you're the stupid one!" Lee Gilyoung said, then tossed the coin.

It fell onto the ground with a clink, and spun until it finally stopped. Lee Jihye looked closer, and saw it landed on heads.

"See! Dokja hyung is alive!"

A mixture of disbelief and hope was on Shin Yoosung's face. Lee Jihye felt the same. She knew that this meant nothing, yet she couldn't help but feel hopeful.

[The constellation, 'Maritime War God' has sacrificed some probability.]

Lee Jihye looked up instinctively. What was that about?

"Flip it again," Shin Yoosung said, despite being skeptical.

Lee Gilyoung nodded. He tossed the coin into the air, but this time, it landed on tails.

"I'm doing it again!"

The coin landed on heads.

"Do it again!"

The coin landed on heads again.

"Again!"

The coin landed on heads.

Each and every time, the same message played.

[The constellation, 'Maritime War God' has sacrificed some probability.]

As she watched the coin be thrown and fall over and over again, the more she was able to notice the very faint sparks of probability.

Lee Jihye looked up. Why use it on something like this? Doesn't he know he's wasting his strength?

The two children stopped at fifteen, eight for heads, seven for tails—eight for Dokja ahjussi being alive, seven for him being dead.

Over time, the flipping of the coin became a habit (twenty heads, fifteen tails), each and every time her sponsor would consume probability (thirty three heads, twenty seven tails). Even as it slowly weakened him, she couldn't truly blame him, because they all needed some kind of hope, including the kids (forty one heads, twenty nine tails).

Then hope came once more when Heewon unnie's sponsor said that she'd found Dokja ahjussi. She'd gone missing immediately after, but still, there was good news for the first time in a long time. (Fifty nine heads, forty one tails).

•~•~•~•~•~•

"So Dokja-ssi and Joonghyuk-ssi are in danger?" Heewon unnie asked.

Sangah unnie nodded. "There's going to be a 'great misfortune'."

"We've got to help him then!" Heewon unnie said.

"I'll go," Sangah unnie said. "Sooyoung-ssi, you—"

She was cut off as she looked down at the panel in front of her.

"Hey, Yoo Sangah, what is it?" Sooyoung unnie asked.

"Joonghyuk-ssi requires three of us for some kind of competition."

"The Demon King Selection," Sooyoung unnie murmured.

"I'll go!" Both Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung said, then glared.

"We'll flip the coin," Lee Gilyoung said, "I pick heads."

The coin was thrown into the air, then landed on tails.

"I can go too," Sangah unnie said. "Is that alright with you, Sooyoung-ssi?"

Sooyoung unnie made a face. "Yeah yeah, go ahead and save them. Not like I'm able to go. So who's the third? Lee Hyunsung would be a good person to act as a tank if they need one. But Jung Heewon's also strong."

Heewon unnie turned to Hyunsung ahjussi. "Hyunsung-ssi, shall we also flip a coin? I pick tails."

He nodded, and she took the coin from the sullen Lee Gilyoung. The coin landed on heads.

"I'll make sure Dokja-ssi is safe," Hyunsung ahjussi vowed.

"Go save ahjussi," Lee Jihye told them, and the three of them left.

Other than Sooyoung unnie, she was the only one who didn't insist on going, but she knew that they needed this more than she did. Though…

"Heewon unnie, we'll be joining them soon, right?" Lee Jihye asked. "They're going to need our help."

Heewon unnie nodded. "Of course."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Once she arrived in the 73rd Demon Realm, Lee Jihye didn't have any time to hesitate. So many constellations were attacking her party, and she had to help defend them. She didn't stop to stare at Dokja ahjussi, instead she fired the cannons to distract the constellations. When the giant train came crashing down to destroy everything, she used all her strength to slow it down.

Once it was all over, she was relieved. Things were going well. All her companions were alive, the 73rd Demon Realm was safe, and they'd won against the constellations. They spent the next few days recovering and rebuilding.

One thing that Lee Jihye noticed was that Dokja ahjussi was going around giving everyone gifts. Even she herself received a gift—a large helmet. It seemed to be better.

Until the darkness came to overtake the realm. The transcendents Breaking the Sky Sword and Kyrgios weren't able to deal with the existence of that darkness that couldn't be explained. The group wouldn't give up though, they'd defeated Surya, but they could beat this too.

Which was why she was surprised when shackles bound her together, she was shocked. All she could see was Dokja ahjussi staring down the darkness, while her companions screamed for him to either come back, or let them die with him.

[The constellation, 'Demon King of Salvation' is looking at the party.]

[Please live.]

His voice was simultaneously void of emotion yet filled with it.

All they could do was watch and scream wings and horns emerged from him—just like how he'd died the last time—and he flew into the expanse of darkness. Lee Jihye screamed loudly as she tried to fight against the shackles. Her throat burned and her arms ached, but she screamed and fought until she was too weak to do so anymore. Until the world went dark and she opened her eyes to the brightness of Seoul.

Why, why, why?

•~•~•~•~•~•

Past and present were blurring together. The world was dark as it had all happened. The dark sky shone with stars as various constellations and dokkaebis watched from above yet they did nothing as it all happened.

A difficult decision to make, a fight that had to be won. A choice to survive, or die to let someone else survive. It was a choice that Lee Jihye was never allowed to make when she wanted that choice most.

A person who stood strong, willing to go through danger. Their faces solemn yet determined, a wan smile that only made her heart hurt.

⸢"You must live."⸥

Lee Jihye had made the choice to survive when Na Bori offered it to her. It took so long for her to come to terms with herself, but it wasn't resolved. It would never be. But she'd learn to survive, she'd learn to live with her companions.

⸢[Please live.]⸥

But how? How was she supposed to live through something like this? She was stronger, she was smarter, she was more experienced. She was ready for the dangers that would inevitably come in this cruel world. She'd done so much, tried so hard, but she couldn't stop herself from losing more than she'd already lost.

How did anyone ever expect her to live on?

"Jihye noona," Lee Gilyoung murmured, his face buried into her side.

A sob came from her other side, Shin Yoosung's tears staining her shirt. Lee Jihye bit her lip and closed her eyes, fighting back her own tears. She held them both tightly, and squeezed a little tighter.

Those two kids… they were so young, younger than she was even when the scenarios had first started. They were much closer to Dokja ahjussi than she'd ever been, she wouldn't be able to understand just how much pain they felt. They were just kids.

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She looked up to the stars. She didn't say anything, not when she knew that her voice would break. But she swore that she'd live, so she'd do so.

And if she wanted to live, she had to be strong. She'd be strong for them, she'd be strong for the two kids that were like younger siblings to her. Lee Jihye was an only child, but she remembered hearing one of her friends from Taepung a long time ago complain about how annoying her sibling was, but had an almost fond smile on her face.

Looking at Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung, Lee Jihye understood how her friend had felt. She squeezed them a little tighter. She'd be strong for them, she'd hold back her tears in front of them and be strong.

So she thrust herself back into the scenarios, fighting so she could earn more skills, stories, and weapons. It was just like how it was when Dokja ahjussi had made them kill him back during the tenth scenario.

Fight and fight and fight some more. If she wasn't doing that, she was training, or helping the adults help create more order. Alliances between various groups were made, and she made sure there weren't as many rebellions. Continue fighting, because that was all she could do.

(And if Lee Jihye made reckless mistakes that nearly got her killed, it was only a sign that she needed to be stronger.)

•~•~•~•~•~•

As days turned to months, and months turned to years, Lee Jihye began to adjust. She adjusted to the scenarios that only grew more difficult as time went on. She grew adjusted to the two gaping holes in her heart, but she learned to piece the rest of the shards back together. She wasn't completely okay—she wasn't sure if she'd ever be—but she was doing better.

She spent a long time with Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung, she was often grouped with the two of them. Sangah unnie grew weaker the more she used her stigmas, Heewon unnie and Sooyoung unnie began fighting after it was revealed that Sooyoung unnie was the First Apostle, and Hyunsung ahjussi could only do so much mediating.

It really was up to Lee Jihye to be there with the kids as their older sibling.

"As members know the Busan Alliance," Lee Jihye began. "We've got to choose a leader. And as the oldest, it's gotta be me."

"Excuse me?" Both Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung asked, before glaring at each other. "Why should you be the leader? I'm better!"

"But unnie, I'm the one who had the highest score on the affection metre! Ahjussi would have chosen me to be the leader!" Shin Yoosung argued.

"Wh- excuse me!?" Lee Jihye sputtered, putting her hands to her hips. "That was so long ago—and that doesn't have anything to do with this!"

Shin Yoosung continued, "I'm also the smartest—"

"Says who?" Lee Gilyoung asked. "You're stupid, Yoosung."

Shin Yoosung glared at him. "You're the stupid one!"

"Again, I'm the oldest, I choose," Lee Jihye said, louder.

The two of them paused their bickering to both glare at her.

"I think Sangah unnie or Heewon unnie would agree with me," she said, and they looked a little more dejected.

They all knew that if they went to them they would likely appoint Lee Jihye as the leader because of the same reason that she'd mentioned.

"Fine noona," Lee Gilyoung muttered.

The three of them went around dealing with the returnees that would appear.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Yoosung!" Lee Jihye called out. "What the hell are you doing?"

They were fighting some of the returnees when Shin Yoosung put down her weapon and started crying.

"Ahjussi…" she said in a small, weak voice.

"Did you just say that frog is Dokja hyung?" Lee Gilyoung asked, breathless.

"Are you sure?" Lee Jihye asked.

The frog had been a little more passive compared to some of the other disasters she'd faced.

"Yes, I'm sure!" She sounded confident about this.

Lee Jihye sheathed her sword.

As soon as she did, the frog jumped at her.

"Sh*t!" she hissed as something pierced her shoulder. "Help! That piece of sh*t's not ahjussi!"

The two kids rushed to help her, but the other returnees kept getting in their way.

Lee Jihye thrashed so she could pull out her sword again, but her shoulder hurt too much, especially with the frog on top of her. After a few minutes, she was finally able to break free and fight back properly.

"Where'd you even get the idea of that being ahjussi?" Lee Jihye asked.

Shin Yoosung looked apologetic. "...I don't know. I just had the feeling."

"Well I'm going to have to go to Seolhwa unnie now. Fly me there?"

•~•~•~•~•~•

Lee Jihye stared down another group of returnees.

"Hey, kid," she said to Lee Gilyoung. "Do you want to deal with them or should I?"

"Let's flip a coin and see."

[The 'Ugly Squid' is provoking you.]

What the hell was that? Excuse me?

She narrowed her eyes. "Actually kid, I'll kill that squid."

The squid started waving its tentacles around.

"Ugh, disgusting squid. Die!"

She rushed at it with her sword, cutting through some of the small tentacles at the top.

"Noona, cut the big tentacles instead of the smaller ones!"

"Shut up!"

As she continued to fight it, it began moving weirdly. Lines were drawn on the ground.

⸢I am a good look ing squid. ⸥

What the hell?

She activated Demon Slaying and moved even faster than before.

[The 'Ugly Squid' is provoking you.]

[The 'Ugly Squid' has sponsored 91 coins to you.]

Lee Jihye frowned at the unexpected message. "What?"

[The 'Ugly Squid' has sponsored 91 coins to you.]

"Do you think I won't attack you if you keep giving me this?"

If she fought more, maybe it'd give her more.

[The 'Ugly Squid' has sponsored 91 coins to you.]

Why such a random number???

"Don't be so annoying! It's not even in units of 100!"

[The 'Ugly Squid' has sponsored 9158 coins to you.]

She froze. That was a lot more than the previous 91.

"Noona, why'd you suddenly stop fighting?" Lee Gilyoung asked.

"It keeps giving me coins," she replied.

"Coins? Is it a constellation?"

"What kind of constellation would have a modifier like the 'Ugly Squid?' It also keeps giving me 91 coins."

"91?"

"Yeah, and then it gave me 9158 after that."

"That's a lot of coins," Lee Gilyoung mused. "Is it a hidden scenario? Or is there something meaningful about it?"

[The 'Ugly Squid' has sponsored 7942 coins to you.]

"7942? Hmm…"

[The constellation, 'God of Wine and Ecstasy' has entered the channel.]

[The constellation, 'God of Wine and Ecstasy' claims that the number '91' is a type of numerical play.]

[The constellation, 'God of Wine and Ecstasy' says the squid must be an intelligent one.]

"It's a hidden piece. Will the squid donate coins every time it gets cut?" Lee Gilyoung asked.

[The constellation, 'God of Wine and Ecstasy' is nodding.]

"Alright Gilyoung, we each take half!"

They continued fighting until Shin Yoosung finally arrived.

"You haven't finished dealing with it yet?" she asked.

"I'm trying! It's just that it's a very strange disaster. It keeps giving me coins. I honestly feel a little bad…"

Shin Yoosung stared at the squid, and suddenly it started moving. As it came closer, Lee Jihye attacked it. Her eyes widened when it didn't avoid her attack for once. It only continued moving towards Shin Yoosung at a slow pace. She rested her hand on the disaster's head.

"Ahjussi?"

They all froze.

"I think the squid is Dokja ahjussi."

Both her and Lee Gilyoung stared at her. This wasn't the first time she did it, nor was it the second or third.

"This is Dokja ahjussi?"

"Hyung can't be a squid, idiot!"

"Really! It really is Dokja ahjussi!"

Shin Yoosung insisted on bringing the returnees to Seoul, knowing that they weren't allowed. Eventually they allowed her to, since they figured she'd take the blame if something bad happened. Every time they brought his name up though on the ride, the squid kept reacting.

She wanted to believe that it was actually Dokja ahjussi, but she couldn't bring herself to hope. It'd been three years since he was gone, why be back now? Why be a disaster?

Could that even be him in the first place? Was it really possible? No… It couldn't be. The tassel attached to her sword shook slightly, and she smiled at it.

They continued flying until the Gyeonggi Alliance came to try and stop them. Heewon unnie arrived and dealt with them, and then Master and the squid were fighting each other. Sword against tentacle, the two kept fighting.

If the squid really was Dokja ahjussi, what would he do against Master?

He was fine in the end, laying on the floor as Master stabbed the ground next to him. Smoke enveloped him and when it was gone, Dokja ahjussi was lying there.

•~•~•~•~•~•

With Dokja ahjussi back, it felt like the dynamic of the party had changed a lot. He gave out instructions on how to clear the scenarios like Sangah unnie had (though, it was him who had told her in the first place). Master went off on his own a little less since he spoke with Dokja ahjussi more. Sooyoung unnie and Heewon unnie seemed to have sorted out some of their differences during the 46th scenario. The kids were more cheerful now that they had their father figure back.

One of those lost pieces of her heart had come back, though it only seemed to loosely fit, always on the verge of breaking again. She knew that was just how Dokja ahjussi was, he was someone willing to take the punishment if it meant those he loved could be unscathed. He always had the most outrageous plans that confused everyone.

She would never be able to guess his plans, but the least she could do was fight with him, and help out as much as possible. She'd do it to protect everyone.

But the damage to Sangah unnie accumulated until it became too much. She laid in the hospital bed, stories flowing out of her. She hoped that Dokja ahjussi would be able to save her, he was able to save everyone.

Aileen told everyone that she had only thirty minutes left, and Lee Jihye was terrified. She couldn't lose another person.

"There has to be a way," she insisted.

Heewon unnie held her tightly as Dokja ahjussi said that he'd already tried.

⸢ Everyone. I'm fine. So…⸥

⸢"I'm fine."⸥ Sangah unnie said constantly, as she grew weaker and weaker.

⸢ Gilyoung, noona is fine. Don't cry. Yoosung too.⸥

⸢ Heewon-ssi. I really like Heewon-ssi, did you know that?⸥

⸢ In addition, Jihye…⸥

Lee Jihye could hardly hear anything over the sound of her heartbeat intensifying, she tried to hold back her tears. It didn't work, she grasped the bedsheets and stared at Dokja ahjussi.

Please ahjussi. Please have a solution.

Sangah unnie spoke to the others, but she could barely handle it.

"Everyone, please go outside," Dokja ahjussi said suddenly.

She barely processed the words, but it was Heewon unnie who moved first.

"Everything's gonna be okay," she said, and the hands that were still wrapped around Lee Jihye tightened. "It's Dokja-ssi, we'll let Dokja-ssi do his thing."

Lee Jihye didn't want to get up, but she hoped that Dokja ahjussi would be able to do something. She left the room with everyone else.

Soon after she left, the room shook violently. She rushed back and flung the door open, only for the sparks to push her back and slam the door shut again.

"Jihye, what the hell just happened?" Sooyoung unnie asked.

"I don't know, there were a lot of sparks."

"Should we go inside?" Heewon unnie asked.

"Is it safe?" Hyunsung ahjussi asked.

Sooyoung unnie held the door handle. "I'm giving that idiot five minutes. After that we'll go in."

They all nodded. After five minutes, they rushed inside and they were all confused. Sangah unni's body had disappeared entirely, and there were sparks enveloping Dokja ahjussi's body, and his body looked almost lifeless on the ground.

"Sh*t," Sooyoung unnie hissed. "A probability storm. What the hell did he do?"

"Is ahjussi going to be alright?" Shin Yoosung asked.

"Yeah yeah," Sooyoung unnie replied. "Don't touch him until the sparks are gone. Then we'll put him into bed and wait for him to wake up."

After five days, Dokja ahjussi was awake again, and he told them how he saved Sangah unnie by taking her soul and letting it rest inside of him. He didn't explain much more than that. The details didn't matter to her, what mattered most was that she was alive.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Despite that good news, there seemed to be some kind of bigger problem going on. When they went to the Duet Between Good and Evil, Master started fighting Dokja ahjussi. There was some kind of intense anger, there was genuine killing intent radiating from him to the point that the party had to interfere.

After that situation, Dokja ahjussi called them all over—save for Master, who was now unconscious.

"I have something to say to you."

What was that about? He looked almost hesitant to say whatever it was he was going to say.

"Ahjussi, what is with you all of a sudden? You look scary," she said.

A pause. Dokja ahjussi looked around at everyone, and the silence began to be unnerving. He bit his lip.

"Some of you… are characters from a story."

Huh?

"I know it is hard to understand my words," he continued, "I'll explain it all from the beginning."

Lee Jihye listened to each word carefully, but with each word, she couldn't believe what was being said. There was a novel that he used to read before the scenarios. Then suddenly, that novel came to life. He met most of the party members already knowing who they were; their hopes, their fears. He knew the future but told no one about it. He used that knowledge to deceive people.

"...Thus, I brought you here."

She could hardly process the words. What she did know was that Dokja ahjussi knew everything. So what, did he recruit them into his party because he knew that they were strong?

"Then until now, you knew all about the future…"

Was that all? Was that all they were?

"Yes," he said calmly. It reminded her of how calm he was when spoke to her about her trauma—

Her trauma. He'd known. He'd brought it up all those years ago because he knew it would get her to act.

Lee Jihye gritted her teeth. "Then now… why are you telling us this?"

What was the point in bringing it up now? Was it because he couldn't keep it hidden anymore? Out of some kind of stupid guilt?

Why?

Her shoulders trembled as she looked down. How was she supposed to ask all the questions that she had?

She looked up again. "Let's say that you knew the future."

He stared at her, silent.

"Say it was all planned and ahjussi used us for your purpose. Let's say that we're characters from that damn Ways of Survival and everything has been set!" She bit her lips, damn it, was she crying?

Still, she needed to get out the question she wanted to ask most.

"Then… why did you throw your life away for us so many times?"

He opened his mouth several times, but he didn't say anything. Did he not expect this from her or something? Did he think she was going to take out her sword and cut him down? Did he really not know her well enough to know how she felt? (Though, maybe she would've done so in the novel that he read. She had no clue as to what to what felt or thought anymore.)

"Answer me!" she screamed at him. "If we are really characters in a fictional novel, why did you die for us over and over?"

He stared at her with wide eyes.

She wiped her tears and left the room.

She spent the next week training on her own, hoping that this whirlwind of feelings she felt could calm down a little bit.

Characters. Characters in a novel. Who did that make her then? Was everything that had happened to her destiny? Was Na Bori's death just some random plot point in her life?

Characters. Did that mean that none of the choices she made were ever her own? That it was just how her "character" was supposed to be? Did Dokja ahjussi really become her companion because she was a character? Did he help her get this far solely because she was a character? Would he have ever told her otherwise if Master hadn't found out and fought with him over it?

Again, if she was a character, why throw his life away to save hers?

"Ah, I can't stand it anymore!" Heewon unnie said. "How long will this atmosphere last?"

Everyone was shocked by that.

"Jihye, you! Are you going to just stop talking to Dokja-ssi forever?"

"...I don't know."

"Are you still angry? No matter what, you should have a conversation."

"I'm not angry!" Lee Jihye shouted. "If I think about it, it's not a big deal… it's similar to the prophets. And I know ahjussi is a good person. I just hate the word 'character'!"

"Certainly, we don't know how Dokja-ssi is feeling right now," said Hyunsung ahjussi. "A few days ago, Joonghyuk-ssi disappeared."

The others nodded, then they all stared at her.

"Jihye."

"Ah! I mean! How can I say anything when ahjussi is walking around like a dead man?"

After Master had left, Dokja ahjussi didn't look well and looked empty.

"Still…"

"Then why didn't Dokja ahjussi say anything? He just deceived us the whole time…" The words felt a little weak to her own ears.

"Jihye," Heewon unnie repeated. "We can't ignore Dokja-ssi's choice just because we don't understand it. I don't know the reason but it must've been necessary for Dokja-ssi. Dokja-ssi."

"Unnie, do you think that we're just characters?"

That was another thing that plagued her mind.

Heewon unnie told her that she also didn't know the answer to that question. "It isn't Dokja-ssi's fault that such a novel exists."

Heewon unnie was right about that. Dokja ahjussi was just a reader who wouldn't have realized that the novel would become real life. He had nothing to do with this. She and all the other characters were merely puppets.

She bit her lip. "I understand. I'll go and talk to him. Hyunsung ahjussi, Yoosung, you should come with me."

"I've already spoken to him."

"What?" she shrieked. "Am I the only one who hasn't talked to him yet?"

•~•~•~•~•~•

"I guess I'm the last one to see you, ahjussi," she said to him. "Sorry for not coming earlier. It's just… It was a lot to take in."

Dokja ahjussi nodded awkwardly. "It was."

"Ahjussi made that choice for a reason. Sorry but I can't comfort you, I'm not good with that. If I'm really in that novel, shouldn't you know that?"

There was silence, and she couldn't help but fiddle with the tassel attached to her sword.

"I'm upset, but I'm not mad at you, I think. I still trust you. That's all I can really say."

"Thank you, Jihye."

She nodded.

•~•~•~•~•~•

They were separated as they arrived on the Isle of Reincarnators, but Lee Jihye managed to find Dokja ahjussi.

"Ahjussi, can I ask you something?"

"Ask."

"When did that novel start?"

A slight pause. "More than ten years ago."

Wow, that long?

"How do I appear in the novel?"

While he considered what to tell her, she continued maintaining the campfire.

"You…" he began. "You are very similar. The Admiral who becomes skilled with the sword; first in order to survive, then to protect your companions."

He told her more, each sentence carefully selected.

"It's so good that I feel kinda bad. Was there that much detail?"

"The novel is a bit long."

"Even so…" she hummed. "Oh, how do you even remember all the details?" God, if she had the memory like his, she would have been acing all her classes.

"I read it a lot."

"Still, to remember it so meticulously… I feel bad."

"I was a middle school student at the time, and my only hobby was reading the novel."

It was a small, yet major insight as to who he was. No one—not even someone like Shin Yoosung who was his incarnation—knew much about him. Imagining a small Dokja ahjussi huddled in a corner reading on his phone… it was kind of sad to think about that. He always seemed like such a lonely person, a star shining alone out of reach.

It was too sad to think about. "Ahjussi was a middle school student?" she laughed. "Then you were younger than me when you first read it? That's ridiculous."

"Everyone was fifteen years old once."

She grinned. "That's right, I was also fifteen once."

She looked down at the sheath of her sword fondly, where the tassel dangled.

⸢"Jihye, look at me."

Lee Jihye turned to look at Na Bori. "What is it?"

Na Bori grabbed her hand and she felt something be placed in her hand. Lee Jihye looked to see what it was and saw a little gift box.

"Happy fifteenth birthday, Jihye-yah. Open it!"

Lee Jihye grinned and quickly opened it. Inside the box was a tiny white bunny attached to a red tassel.

"This is so cute!" She leaned over and hugged her best friend tightly. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome." Na Bori smiled, pulling away. "Now don't go breaking that one too quickly, how long did the previous one last, two months?"

Lee Jihye shoved her shoulder affectionately. "Hey! That wasn't my fault and you know it! Besides, it's my birthday so you gotta be nice!"

"Hey, you can't say I'm mean to you!"

Lee Jihye grinned, glad that she was able to spend her birthday with her best friend.⸥

Hey Bori, she thought, I haven't broken it. Hope you're happy.

It'd been four, maybe five years since she'd received it. It really had been a long time, hadn't it?

"Are you okay?"

She looked up and saw Dokja ahjussi's gaze on her tassel.

"Do you know about this keyring?"

"A little bit."

Oh. He knew that much too? "There is nothing private."

Neither her worst memories nor her best were kept for solely herself.

"Do you know what happens to me at the end of the novel?"

Did she live? Did she die? Did she ever truly heal from her self-inflicted wound?

There was a bell that rang, which meant a monster would be near.

"You will live to the end and be happy. It was the same in the novel. Now run towards the village, I'll buy some time."

"I don't want to! Ahjussi, you run away! Aren't you weaker than me?"

"You can't deal with this monster. It isn't possible even if we join forces. Go to the village and get some help."

"But…"

"Hurry! I have a way to avoid it!"

"Really?"

"Of course, don't you know who I am?" The corner of his mouth tilted upwards a tiny bit, and part of her felt relieved.

She nodded. "Hold on! I'll be back with help!"

She ran off, and she could hear the growl of whatever monster it was. She stopped running and turned back. Dokja ahjussi was such a liar, smiling that unlucky smile of his and thinking he could get away with it. As if she didn't know that every time he smiled like that, he was about to put himself through some kind of danger. Who did he think she was anyway, did he really think she was going to just let him die?

When she got back, the troll had its club ready to swing. She charged forward and pierced its stomach with her sword. The wound healed instantly, and her sword went flying.

Lee Jihye could only laugh. "Let's die together, ahjussi."

She would rather die for the small chance of saving someone than live and have no chance at all.

(And when she saw relief briefly flash on his face, she realized that he never did expect her to abandon him, it was the opposite.)

A silver sword was swung and cut down the troll effortlessly. They'd been saved.

•~•~•~•~•~•

They spent the next week or so resting on the Main Island, Dokja ahjussi training to learn Story Control (she tried to convince her Great Great Master—since he was the Master of her Master's Master—to teach her but he refused). Dokja ahjussi left early, but some of her other companions had arrived so she stuck with them.

The next island was hard to deal with, but as the Admiral, it was nothing that she couldn't deal with. She cleared it and after going through the portal, she ended up in a city with Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung. The androids couldn't target the kids, so she used it as an opportunity to level up. At least… until there was that shutdown that prevented the two from fighting, forcing her to deal with them all by herself.

After they eventually woke up, they went to take the Turtle Dragon ship. When they arrived at the battlefield, she was shocked at the sight. Reincarnators were dying all over the place, Heewon unnie held Hyunsung ahjussi's body tightly, a Demon King stood triumphantly as a battleship prepared to fire at them.

No. She could see the slump in Hyunsung ahjussi's body, and her blood boiled.

Lee Jihye took command of her new ship, and fired away. She attacked with all her might, and her sponsor helped too, firing away until all the enemies were either dead or had retreated.

Even then, Lee Jihye didn't have the time to grieve—she never did, not in this apocalypse—as various nebulae all entered. The rest of her companions joined too, Sooyoung unnie and Master and Dokja ahjussi.

Dokja ahjussi then said that Hyunsung ahjussi was alive. She stared at him in disbelief, somehow she couldn't find in herself to really believe it, but he brought up the point about his sponsor and her heart lightened, even if only a little bit.

The Chaos Points began to rise drastically, until it reached 100 points. Lee Jihye was shocked at the idea that someone would willingly awaken the Apocalypse Dragon, but she prepared herself to fight.

[The constellation, 'Demon King of Salvation' has activated Sacrificial Will Level 8!]

All eyes turned to Dokja ahjussi. Lee Jihye was more than familiar with that damned stigma, it meant that something bad was going to happen to Dokja ahjussi. The fact that it even reached level eight in the first place…

He insisted that he'd live, then proceeded to block the electric shockwave caused by the First Tail-Flick. He didn't die, fortunately, and Lee Jihye was absolutely relieved.

She rushed towards him and shook his shoulders. "Ahjussi! I thought we'd end up as grilled squid, you know!"

She couldn't help but grin briefly at her choice in words.

They didn't have time to joke around though, there was the next phase to go through. Despite it being about heat, Lee Jihye joined in when she saw Sooyoung unnie and Heewon unnie in danger.

She fell unconscious briefly, and when she woke up, the situation that she feared was happening. Dokja ahjussi had summoned the being that had destroyed the Demon Realm, and he was ready to have himself sacrificed again.

(Just looking at the Nameless Mist struck fear in her, she still had nightmares over what had happened that day.)

She had to do something, she kept fighting even when it seemed to do nothing. Kept fighting as Master, Sooyoung unnie and Heewon unnie went to save Dokja ahjussi. The Ark came for everyone to board, and they boarded it.

Heewon unnie made her return, then Sooyoung unnie, both placed their trust in Master to save Dokja ahjussi. Minutes that felt like hours passed, and Master finally made his return. Only… he returned empty-handed.

[We need to disembark now,] the 'Master of The Ark' said.

"Wait!" Lee Jihye said.

But the 'Master of The Ark' didn't wait. They left the Isle of Reincarnators without Dokja ahjussi. A story had been given to them, Seasons of Light and Darkness, but the person who made it all happen was absent. Master was unconscious for a while, so she couldn't even hear about what had happened. So she busied herself by repairing the Turtle Dragon, or staying with the two kids. (Lee Gilyoung flipped the coin a few times, despite Shin Yoosung's insistence that she could tell that he was alive.)

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Dokja ahjussi is alright," Shin Yoosung said. "He's definitely alive, I can tell."

"Okay, but how do we get him back?" Heewon unnie asked. "Do we just expect for him to get back by himself?"

"That bastard will just leave again," Sooyoung unnie muttered.

"When he comes back this time, let's just throw him in a coffin and bury him somewhere," Lee Jihye suggested. "It'll be better to let him out only after the scenarios are over."

Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung stared at her; half approving, half horrified.

Probability sparks appeared before anyone could continue the conversation, and various dokkaebis including Bihyung appeared.

[New main scenario has arrived!]

Bihyung spoke. [<Kim Dokja's Company>. It's now time to leave for the Final Scenario.]

All of them were skeptical about such a thing, after doing the previous scenario they didn't feel prepared at all. After being told that the scenario wouldn't immediately start and there was a limited amount of tickets, they agreed to go. Sooyoung unnie seemed to think that's what Dokja ahjussi would have wanted.

Only… the Great Dokkaebis told them that they didn't have the qualifications. All they had to do was get themselves another Giant Story. They'd make a retelling of Journey To The West.

"Alright," Sooyoung unnie said, "since I'm the writer, I'll be the Scenario Master. Got it?"

They all nodded, even Master.

"We need a good plot that will blow their minds. What about a regression story?"

Master looked at her blankly.

"Look, they're popular. We don't have to make Sun Wukong an edgy bastard like you."

"You're not any better than him," Heewon unnie muttered.

Sooyoung unnie ignored her. "We can just let him do nothing so we can get most of the shares…"

Sooyoung unnie explained carefully about the basic premise, and why the judges would like it, while Master offered his own input (mostly criticism) based on what he knew.

"Can we make him the Demon King of Salvation?" Lee Gilyoung asked.

"And that's how Sun Wukong originally died? Sacrificed himself too much to the point that he was imprisoned?" Heewon unnie added.

Lee Jihye grinned. "Doesn't that sound like something we want to do to someone we know?"

Sooyoung unnie's lips curled into a smirk. "Oh, I'm feeling inspired. And if that bastard ends up hearing us…"

Even Master looked almost amused, before his expression went neutral again. "We have a basic premise, but we don't have an ending yet."

Sooyoung unnie scoffed. "Obviously. I'm a genius beautiful girl writer—"

Heewon unnie coughed.

"—meaning that I'll be looking at the reactions of everyone to figure out how to work out the rest."

"That… almost makes sense..?" Heewon unnie hummed.

•~•~•~•~•~•

They were supposed to have Jang Hayoung join them to act as their Sun Wukong, but she ended up being delayed. Some constellation none of them had ever heard of took the role instead.

It didn't take them long to figure out that the random constellation was actually Dokja ahjussi. Really, it didn't even seem like he was trying that hard. He acted the same, talked the same. If he thought that she wouldn't be able to figure it out, he was an idiot. And also a horrible actor.

Still, she was relieved to see him, and she focused on clearing the scenario. When the constellations of <Emperor> descended to stop them from getting the Giant Story, she made sure to defend.

She crouched down and held her sword in her hand. This was a technique that she'd practiced. She'd intended for its first use to be against Dokja ahjussi (she knew he'd be fine), so he could see just how far she'd come.

Instant Kill. She used it to cut through all of her opponents, and once they were dead, she laid on the ground, exhausted.

"Ahjussi. You're okay, right?" It almost felt like he was watching over her, and maybe that was why she'd asked. There was no answer though.

She'd just have to find out the answer herself once she was ready to head back into battle.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Well, would you look at that," Heewon unnie said. "Dokja-ssi finally told us something."

Heewon unnie referred to the whole explanation of multiple worldlines and that there were multiple Masters going around changing things. Lee Jihye personally thought that it was way too confusing.

"He's gonna make us all go into more scenarios," Sooyoung unnie groaned.

"Don't we have a lot of free time on our hands?" Lee Jihye asked. "We can't always be doing scenarios just because ahjussi said so."

"Even if he does say so, we're his company," Heewon unnie mused. "The company can't do its job when the company is revolting."

Lee Jihye grinned. "Does that mean we can knock him out and take a vacation? Hey Master, can we do that?"

Master looked at them blankly, before nodding. "You've all worked hard."

Lee Jihye cheered internally. Yes! Even Master agreed! He was also someone who prioritized getting the job done, but even he understood that a vacation was needed!

"Damn, can you believe that this bastard treats the company better than Kim Dokja?" Sooyoung unnie laughed. "I'd never want to actually have him as my boss."

Shin Yoosung looked torn between defending her sponsor and agreeing. Instead she said, "Ahjussi wouldn't just willingly relax. He'd want us to clear the scenarios."

"Sh*t, you're right," Sooyoung unnie murmured.

"Can't we just give him a scenario?" Sangah unnie chimed in. "We have our own dokkaebi, after all."

[Baat!]

"And I think she's already willing to help us."

Kim Dokja's Company sat around and created their own scenario for Dokja ahjussi, grins on (most of) their faces.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Even though the "vacation" was only a day long, Lee Jihye found herself having a lot of fun. Ever since the apocalypse started, they never truly had a break. She spent so much time doing scenarios, training for the scenarios, or she was anticipating the next one.

It wasn't as if she'd never taken a day off—she had—but she never had many chances to just hang around with her companions freely. The closest thing she had was during the end of the three years that Dokja ahjussi had disappeared. But that disappearance was a crack that wasn't able to go unnoticed, and Sangah unni's worsening condition only tended to make the atmosphere more grim. Hyunsung ahjussi wasn't conscious at the moment, but at least Dokja ahjussi was confident that he'd be okay.

Sure, Master wouldn't share any of the meat he grilled, instead choosing to feed it all to Yoo Mia, but she got to play around with Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung. She almost felt like she was sixteen again. Then she suddenly realized that she was an actual adult. She already knew that, she was made aware of it in 'Next City', but it really had been four years, hadn't it?

Had it really been that long since she was able to sit back with those she loved and enjoy a fun meal? Lee Jihye decided that once the scenarios were over, she was going to annoy the others and drag them out all across Seoul, exploring the areas that she couldn't always do since she was too busy fighting.

⸢"Hey, Jihye, what do you think you'll be doing in the future?" Na Bori asked.

Lee Jihye shrugged. "Um, school?"

Na Bori rolled her eyes. "Obviously that, but I'm talking about something more fun!"

"Honestly, I don't know?"

She knew that she should probably have an idea as to what she would do in the future, but she couldn't really think of anything that she wanted.

"I'll move in with you," Lee Jihye declared. "We'll live together and go travelling and go to parties and eat a crap ton of food…"

"Even when we're broke uni students?"

She nodded. "I mean I'd rather not be broke, but yeah."

"I'd really like that!"

It was comforting that Na Bori liked the idea too. If she had at least one person by her side—her best friend, the future didn't seem so daunting. They could figure it out as they went.⸥

"Ahjussi, what would you like to do after the scenarios are over?" Shin Yoosung asked Dokja ahjussi.

She only half paid attention, since she was eating some really good food, but it was enough to hear…

"I want to buy a really big house and live together with everyone."

Lee Jihye turned to Dokja ahjussi in shock. That was the first time she really heard him ever mention something that wasn't related to surviving the apocalypse.

She thought about that answer for a few seconds, and found that she really liked it.

"In that case, Dokja-ssi, you'll be paying for the house, yes?" Heewon unnie asked.

"Ahjussi, you're really loaded, so you might be able to get a house in Gangnam," Lee Jihye teased, but it was true that he was absolutely loaded.

The conversation quickly led to talking about said house, the design of it and what they'd do.

After dinner, Lee Jihye sat down next to Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung while they had one of the competitions. Things were quieter now, they'd settled down, and Lee Jihye felt nostalgic for the past that was such a long time ago now.

I miss them, she thought.

Her closest friend was Na Bori, but the two of them hung around their other classmates too. She remembered the study sessions that always devolved into goofing off, the delicious meals.

Being with Kim Dokja's Company had definitely helped her piece the shards of her broken heart back together, but that didn't mean all the shards were there. There was still the gap left by those long gone.

Na Bori… her friends… her parents… she really did miss them.

She was jolted from her thoughts by a poke to the shoulder. She turned to see that it was Dokja ahjussi. Huh?

"What's this, ahjussi? You finished with the dishes?"

"Yeah."

How come he was initiating a conversation with her? "H-mm… Wait, did you come here because of the scenario?"

"It's not entirely about that. But…"

"I don't have any particular complaints, so you don't need to talk to me, though? Why don't you speak to others first?"

Did she have complaints? Technically, yeah, but they would've been the same as all the others. All of them had the complaint that he sacrifices himself too much, that he should let himself rely on the others. He didn't even need her to tell him that. In the context of this scenario, it didn't even count as one.

Besides, she was growing to accept it, the way she'd been growing to accept Na Bori's choice. She'd never understand it, not completely, she'd still wish for a different outcome, but this was her present now. She could stay strong, not just because she had to, but because she wanted to. The grief and weakness she felt could stay buried deep inside of her.

"You can talk to me any time. If you don't want to talk to me, then it'll be fine with someone else, too. But you don't have to huddle in a corner and let it fester inside you."

Huh? Did she hear him right? For a brief moment, that guard she held up faltered, and she blinked at him.

"Ahjussi, don't try to act cool, okay?" She smirked and punched him, feeling satisfied at his wince.

She was shocked by what he'd said, but he wasn't wrong. It wouldn't really hurt to do it, but well…

Lee Jihye stood up and shook her beer glass. "Alright then. Since I'm full, I should go and stretch my legs for a bit."

…It was easier to not address it.

"You shouldn't exercise after drinking, you know."

"I feel fine, though?"

She swung her sword and moved on to do a little more sword practicing. After that, she sat around the campfire with her companions and watched in amusement as Dokja ahjussi failed his scenario. They bought papers and pens, and passed their papers around. It was fun.

Too bad the mood was ruined by the accidental usage of a hologram screen that displayed the erasure of the American continent.

•~•~•~•~•~•

The final scenario was arriving soon, and Lee Jihye was simultaneously both stressed and confident. Kim Dokja's Company kept making more and more enemies of the nebulae, but she had faith that they could take them on.

They managed to wake up Hyunsung ahjussi, and while she didn't join in on their emotional reunion, she was glad that the group was finally together—properly. They were able to all fight together for the first time since Dokja ahjussi had disappeared for three years.

They won against the Papyrus nebula, but there was still the matter of protecting Earth from the Outer God Kings. The first group was going up against the Living Flame, but that group consisted of most of the Company and the constellations that had been supporting them.

Lee Jihye didn't feel good about the second group consisting of only her, Dokja ahjussi, and Hyunsung ahjussi.

"I don't get it, though? Sure, I get why with Hyunsung ahjussi, but me? Is it because we're on the sea?" she asked.

"Something like that."

"But, my sponsor is a Historical… no, a Narrative-grade. You said that even a Myth-grade can't stop the guy that's about to show up, didn't you?"

Lee Jihye may had been stupid to underestimate her sponsor, but she wasn't stupid enough to think that her sponsor could deal with this.

"It's not the General, but you that I believe in."

"…Eh?"

"The Constellation being a Narrative-grade doesn't mean his Incarnation is also a Narrative-grade."

Lee Jihye blinked, confused. Once again, he surprised her. Not knowing how to feel, she smirked.

"What are you on about? I'm not even a Constellation, you know."

[Constellation, 'Maritime War God', nods his head after hearing his words.]

Her sponsor too?

Hyunsung ahjussi came to talk to Dokja ahjussi, so Lee Jihye took the chance to look around. No use getting emotional now, when it was time for battle.

A giant wall approached them, and they reached the scenario area. Giant waves of status hit them, and there began to grow a crowd of Outer Gods. A giant battleship rode alone, a ship with a dragon-shaped figurehead that was all too familiar to her.

No way.

The Turtle Dragon that she saw was much larger than the one that she had. Lee Jihye turned to Dokja ahjussi in fear. Had he known?

He nodded, and she didn't know if it made her feel better or worse.

【Load the cannons,】a familiar voice said, though the voice sounded much more ancient.

【Fire.】

Lee Jihye's own Turtle Dragon turned back to avoid the gunfire, but they couldn't dodge it all. The ship began falling, and it was only after she got it to fly when she realized that the ocean had been split apart.

【Load the cannons.】

"Ahjussi! Do something!"

That true voice filled her with fear—and not just because it was intimidating. It was because it was just like herself.

[Item, 'The White Flag of Complete Surrender', is activating!]

[Now your enemies should be able to spot your complete surrender from even afar!]

"Ahjussi, have you gone insane???"

"It might not look like it, but this item is an SSS-grade."

A white flag was an SSS-grade item???

"There's no guarantee of us surviving just because we surrendered, you know!"

She would've surrendered, but how could she say the same for this alternate version of her that was hell-bent on tearing the Earth apart? On destroying the place that had been her home?

"Well, Lee Jihye on that side could be a kind girl. Let's believe in that."

"How can you crack jokes in this kind of situation?"

Dokja ahjussi just waved the flag, calling her name to attract the attention of the Outer God version of her. Surprisingly, the cannons didn't fire at them. A lone figure stood on the deck, and despite how ancient she sounded, Lee Jihye was surprised to see that the 'Master of The Sunken Island' looked only a few years older than her.

Dokja ahjussi spoke to the Outer God, bringing up memories that could have potentially been hers if she was closer to Master. Some of those words… she would have liked to have heard them a long time ago, when she was still the Wounded Sword Demon.

The 'Master of The Sunken Island' didn't give in and kept firing. Hyunsung ahjussi wasn't finished preparing the steel needed to protect them, so Lee Jihye moved to the front of the ship.

"Ahjussis, stand behind me. I'll do whatever I can about this."

Lee Jihye studied the frontline. If anyone could figure out how to manage the opponent, it'd be her. The opponent was herself, after all. An opponent who became someone who she would never want to become.

"This fight… is my fight."

"I don't know what the hell this 999th turn is nor what happened in that place. However, if there is another 'me' trying to destroy this world with the pretext of tragedy from another regression turn… I will never forgive another 'me'."

No matter how much grief she had, no matter what happened, Lee Jihye refused to damn the world for it. No matter how much she'd hated the world for taking away what she loved, she'd never try to take it out on the world. She let people die in the past, thinking they couldn't all be saved. But even without Dokja ahjussi's influence, she'd still provided food for the people of Chungmuro when she never had to.

For 'her' to do something like this, Lee Jihye would not let it slide.

[Constellation, 'Maritime War God', is unleashing his Status!]

[Nebula <Kim Dokja's Company>'s Probability is permeating within the Incarnation, 'Lee Jihye'!]

The Giant Stories that she had fought for her, the Korean constellations provided probability to activate a stronger Ghost Fleet. No matter how many Outer Gods there were, she was going to fight for her world.

"Load the cannons."

[Character 'Lee Jihye's' attribute evolution is imminent!]

Her sponsor looked at her, she could feel his gaze. She wasn't too close with him, but he always did all that he could to support her, had done so since the beginning. Back when she was at her worst.

[Character 'Lee Jihye's' attribute has evolved to the 'Monarch of the Great Sea'!]

【Fire.】

"Fire!"

The two ships shot at each other, and if it was any other opponent, Lee Jihye might have been able to face them. But the 'Master of the Sunken Island' had the exact same attribute. Still, she refused to give up.

['Disconnected Film Theory' is activating!]

[Giant Story, 'Demon Realm's Spring', has begun its storytelling.]

The scenery changed, and Lee Jihye could recognize that moment in a heartbeat.

⸢[Please live.]

"Ahjussi! Don't! Stop it! I said stop!"⸥

She repressed a shudder at the memory, and looked away from where the Story was displayed. She could almost feel the atmosphere of the Indescribable Distance looming. Then another Story began to unfold.

The 999th version of Master stared down the battlefield, and dark chaos could be seen around him. His voice was tired, with a faint determination that was familiar to her.

⸢"Master! Stop! I said stop!"⸥

That cry sounded so much like her own.

⸢"You must survive."⸥ 999th Master spoke those words.

⸢"You must live."⸥ Na Bori had once told her, before letting herself die so Lee Jihye could live.

⸢[Please live.]⸥ Dokja ahjussi said, before sacrificing himself so the others could live.

Those words that haunted her for years broke down her walls, and before she realized it, she was crying. A brief glance at the other 'her' showed that she was crying too.

Guess I never grow out of that one even when I'm older, huh? Bori would've had a fun time with that, Lee Jihye thought randomly.

She didn't have time to dwell on it though, and the thought was quickly abandoned as she realized just how similar the two stories were.

"Ahjussi, isn't that…"

The 999th Lee Jihye approached them, and her skill was so much better than her own. Lee Jihye was flung away, and blacked out for a bit. When she woke up again, the 'Master of The Sunken Island' and 'King of the Silver Heart' (999th Lee Hyunsung) were talking. Something about 999th Lee Jihye wanting to bring this world down so she could gain hers back.

Just as things seemed dire, Master woke up and joined them. It seemed like it was the Secretive Plotter who was inside him though, and the peacekeeping attempt wasn't really working. All she could do was fight as hard as she could. Dokja ahjussi managed to do something, and the Outer God Kings finally stood down.

•~•~•~•~•~•

As the speech that Dokja ahjussi played on repeat, Lee Jihye realized something. His face seemed clearer, less pale, more lively. He seemed to shine brighter, more like the sun than a distant star.

He'd want to go deal with preparations for the Final Scenario, he'd promised not to sacrifice himself again, but she couldn't even tell if she trusted him enough to actually keep that promise.

In the end, the sun was also a star; while it was closer to them, it was still so far out of reach. After all this time, she and all the others truly hadn't been able to make their way up to him yet. She still wasn't that close to Dokja ahjussi, and looking at the expressions of the others, neither were they.

Lee Jihye just hoped that the truth given to them by Lie Detection would be enough for them to be sure that the sun wouldn't drift away, leaving the world cold and lifeless.

They finally made their way to the Final Scenario, where the Bureau offered them to leave the worldline as it got destroyed. But she knew she wouldn't agree with that, and neither did Dokja ahjussi. With that decision having been made, the contents for the Final Scenario changed, and her heart stopped.

『Clear condition: You must kill the 'Enemy of the Story', Outer God King Kim Dokja.』

Dokja ahjussi began transforming into an Outer God, his voice filtered with the damned ■■. Various Outer Gods crowded around him.

[Please kill the 'Enemy of the Story', Kim Dokja.]

What the actual f*ck? What just happened? Why did he transform? Did he know about this? Had he planned for this? But he'd just promised—

Dokja ahjussi's figure began to change, erasing itself until he became something so unrecognizable. It was worse than his face just being blurry, this was so much worse. He grew taller and taller, as if he were some impenetrable wall that nobody would ever be able to breach past. Lee Jihye had hoped that they'd be able to breach the walls around his heart, but clearly not.

Why else would they be in this situation?

There were so many things she didn't know, so many things she didn't understand. Yet there was one thing she did know: Lee Jihye was going to protect Dokja ahjussi with everything she had. She couldn't get to do so in the past, but she'd do it now, even if it meant siding with the 'Enemy of the Story'.

With her ship, she hovered in the air, facing towards whoever was going to fight them. Even when the Great Dokkaebis warned them and chose to fight back, she and the rest of the company would protect Dokja ahjussi. Even if they were right about the fact that they didn't understand him—which hurt to think about—they wanted to do this much for him.

Sooyoung unnie provoked the constellations, got them to donate coins to be used as probability. That wall shrunk a little bit, and he became something more recognizable again, he finally looked like Dokja ahjussi again. The other Outer Gods transformed too, they looked like people she knew, some even looked like her. Just how many of 'her' were there?

She didn't even have time to think about that for long, the battle grew more and more hectic. The Bureau began interfering more and more, and for a moment Lee Jihye thought that they were all going to die until there was a bright flash and she'd been teleported. All she knew was that she had a scenario to destroy some core of the ship she was in.

She managed to find some of her companions in the 'Hot Naraka', and was able to see Dokja ahjussi and his group fighting so many constellations. He wasn't alone, he had Master, Sooyoung unnie, and all the constellations that had helped them out so far with him. They fought harder than she could've ever imagined, to the point of letting themselves be beaten to make sure that Kim Dokja's Company could move on.

She became so used to feeling the gazes of so many stars on her, that it hurt for all those lights to disappear. Did all those constellations die? Even the 'Maritime War God', her sponsor? Everything that they'd worked for, was that it? They'd all just die?

She couldn't see much past her tears, couldn't feel much beyond the absence of those she cared for, the world only muted. There were people speaking with Dokja ahjussi, probably talking about something important but she couldn't bring herself to care. All she could do was march up to him and demand to know what the hell was going on.

"Ahjussi. What the hell is this? Huh? Was this a part of your plan, too?" she grabbed his collar and shook him hard, back and forth over and over again. Until he finally gave an explanation.

Most of her companions stared silently, but Sooyoung unnie grabbed her.

"Let me go!" she screamed, thrashing in her grip.

"They're not dead yet," Sooyoung unnie told her.

"How?" she asked, "how do you know that?"

"I can sense them."

Lee Jihye slowly stopped flailing. Was it true?

"Wipe your tears away and take a good look. Look at the state of the bastard you're choking right now."

Lee Jihye looked down, feeling shameful. She looked back up at Dokja ahjussi, and was surprised to see that there were tears in his eyes… she'd never seen him cry before…

She let go of his collar. Sooyoung unnie then punched him in the face, also demanding an answer. He said that there might be a way to save the constellations.

What they had to do was go see whatever was beyond the wall, see the sick bastard that was responsible for everything. Her heart thrummed with anticipation, and her hand twitched to her sword. Soon, she told herself. They fought their way to the [Final Wall] and broke it down, they were getting closer and closer to the being who orchestrated it all.

They entered the library, down the elevator, then into the subway that would lead them to the Oldest Dream. Underneath the anger she felt was also curiosity and excitement, they'd come this far, and now there was something beyond the wall that they could get to see.

Who was the Oldest Dream? Were they a dragon? Or maybe even the author..? Though, Dokja ahjussi didn't think they were the author.

The subway doors opened, and they moved to the subway platform. There was a bench there, with a small, pale boy sitting there, his school bag next to him. Despite the fact that Lee Jihye had never seen this boy before, she knew who he was.

Ahjussi..?

Her heart stopped. There was no way. She couldn't… she couldn't believe this. It felt like the world had paused at this revelation—or maybe she had, she had no clue. The great being beyond the wall, the Oldest Dream was Dokja ahjussi.

But… how? How could this be?

It had to be impossible. There couldn't have been any way that things turned out like this. He couldn't be Dokja ahjussi—

Her world that had been on pause suddenly continued as she saw Dokja ahjussi strike the barrier with his sword, only for the sword that had never broken since she'd met him to break. Before she could register what was happening, he then took what was remaining of the sword and stabbed it down to his neck.

Ahjussi! she wanted to scream, but her throat felt blocked up, so she ran towards him.

Master had already gotten there first, and held it before Dokja ahjussi could stab himself. Her companions grabbed different parts of him; Lee Jihye grabbed his waist and held him tightly. If she let him go, he was going to do something that would get himself killed, she knew it. If they held him, he could stay safe.

Or, at least, Lee Jihye believed that until the Secretive Plotter walked towards that indestructible barrier to go to the Oldest Dream.

"Secretive Plotter!" she screamed, "No, don't kill him!"

She didn't know much about the Secretive Plotter, but she knew that he was another version of Master, and that he wanted to end the Oldest Dream because of the suffering he went through. A transparent wall blocked them from going to stop him, and it felt like all the life in her had fizzled out, and she fell to the ground. All she could do was just watch and hope.

She didn't register letting go of Dokja ahjussi, too fixated on what the Secretive Plotter would do. To her shock and relief, the Secretive Plotter chose to spare the Oldest Dream. She looked back at Dokja ahjussi, only to see him crawling on the ground, scrambling for his broken sword.

The Secretive Plotter must have noticed though, and spoke to him. Things were going well… things were going to be okay. They were brought back to the subway car that they'd arrived in, and watched as they passed by so many stars that were fading away.

"It's over now."

Over. It's over. How long had she wanted for the apocalypse to be over? Four long years of terrible grief and horror. Of having to fight for your life, of gaining so much trauma.

It's over.

She felt so relieved that she wanted to cry. She looked outside, at the <Star Stream> that was crumbling. Though…

"By the way, what will happen to the world-line we've been living in?" Lee Jihye wondered.

Everyone turned to look at her.

"You know, that thing. If the Dokkaebi King is to be believed, this world is merely a dream of the 'Oldest Dream', but if that dream is over, then…"

Fortunately, Biyoo told them that the world was still functioning (though, that practically gave her a heart attack because Biyoo could speak in words???). It would take a while for the <Star Stream> to fully break down, meaning that they had no reason to worry.

They all agreed to meet back at the Industrial Complex, but before Lee Jihye went there, there was somewhere else that she wanted to go to first.

The subway stopped and the doors opened, and she could see Taepung Girls' High School right nearby.

"See you guys in a sec," she said, then left the train car.

She slowly made her way towards the school. The apocalypse, her story as the Wounded Sword Demon had begun here. The apocalypse had now ended, and so was that lengthy story. Coming here, it was like an epilogue to her, it'd be the closure she needed to truly end this story. After this, after the epilogue, she was going to have a new story, one where she'd happily live the rest of her days with her companions—her family—together in that large house.

(And if she was crying, these were not tears of sorrow and grief, they were tears of joy because she could finally have happiness.)

•~•~•~•~•~•

Orv taglist: @subrosasteath

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[welllpthisishappening]

Emma Swan, Olympian is not a phrase Emma Swan, totally normal person, ever expected to hear.

But she never expected one night at a party hosted by her college's baseball team to change her entire life, either. So, it should really come as no surprise that Emma Swan, Olympian, is now something of international sensation. Or that her husband has become a bit of a social media star.

——— Rating: Teen with sports feelings Word Count: 7.5K AN: As promised and because of who I am as a person, I wrote Olympic fic. I can neither confirm nor deny that there is an actual plot here, but there is a surplus of fluff and sports-based feelings. So, that’s something. Thanks to the Detroit Lions, specifically, for posting this Tweet and to my husband who is very much aware of what content I want the internet to provide me. Operation: Make Killian a New York Yankee as often as possible continues.

|| Read on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

———

No one told her the questions would start to blur together.

That would require media training, Emma imagines. And no one is giving a first-time Olympian in a sport that only a handful of people marginally believe warrants notice from the IOC any sort of media training. She got, like, an orientation packet. With a lopsided staple in the top left corner. On her commercial flight. That she booked herself.

Twenty-plus hours crammed into a seat that she’s only a little concerned did permanent damage to her right knee, with a meal that was so chewy Emma was about four seconds and one exasperated, entirely exhausted exhale from asking if it was, in fact, made of plastic.

Mostly, the staple is what’s still managing to frustrate her. As frustrated as she can be at the Olympics. No one is supposed to be frustrated at the Olympics. Not really. Not while experiencing the pinnacle of athletic achievement, the calluses on Emma’s fingertips some sort of badge of honor that she’s wearing with at least a modicum of national pride, and everything is fine.

Her qualifying time was absurd. Where absurd is a compliment and very close to a record she’s suddenly determined to shatter.

So, she’s alone.

Big deal. So is everyone else. This Olympics, at least. Plus, Killian wouldn’t have been able to come no matter what the state of the world was. Even so, the quiet stands are admittedly weird. All these empty arenas with empty seats, the distinct lack of a roaring crowd no more obvious than when the world’s best athletes step to the line. Staring at the climbing wall in front of her four hours earlier, Emma swore she could hear every single beat of her heart echo between her ears.

And that’s—well, solitude is par for the course with an adolescence like hers, half-filled suitcases and brand-new faces in brand-new towns, but she’d gotten used to one town, and the town is actually a city, and the city has long since felt like home, and her fingers reach for the rings dangling above her Team USA t-shirt. They did give her an absolute shit ton of t-shirts, so that was nice.

Except—

Something keeps tugging. Nagging at the back of Emma’s consciousness, almost like she’s forgotten her keys on that flea market table they found in Park Slope two weeks after they moved into the apartment. Because for as well-versed Emma may be in that singular sort of existence, she’s also well-removed from wanting it, and at least three of her knuckles crack. Curling around her rings.

Muscles in her cheeks stretch, another nod and quick blink to avoid the threat of blinding via camera flashes. Someone really should have told her about this. She probably should have assumed. Human interest is the driving force of at least three-quarters of the stories in sports, and Emma’s not used to being the story, per se, but even she has to admit most of hers makes for a good one and they are still asking her questions.

Emma blinks again. Hopes she doesn’t look like a serial killer or the weird blonde, slightly sweaty cousin of the Joker, her smile starting to feel as if it’s painted on her face. She nods. Hums. Listens to questions that are startling in their tonal similarity to Charlie Brown’s teacher, and Emma wonders if Charlie Brown ever got a different teacher or what the school structure of the Peanuts’ universe is and, God, how old was Charlie Brown, even? To withstand that sort of consistent bullying. Was Linus the same age as him? No, right? How long did he carry the blanket around? Was Linus the same age as Sally? Why didn’t the red-headed girl with curly hair get a name?

She nearly falls out of her chair.

That might make the front page of several blogs. Possibly even the back page of a New York tab.

Careful to keep her feet on the ground, Emma lifts her head, directing her eyes toward the source of a question that must have been asked several times if the note of amusement mixing with deadline-based exasperation is anything to go by. Her smile definitely makes her look like a serial killer.

“Sorry, sorry,” Emma mumbles, and none of the oxygen she does her best to inhales makes it even close to her lungs. “I, uh—what was the question?”

The reporter grimaces.

“I wanted to know if you’d seen the video of your husband yet.”

Ice runs down her spine. Every single drop of wholly disgusting sweat falling in rivulets down either one of her cheeks freezes. Oxygen disappears from the room. Or so Emma assumes, what with the crushing feeling pushing down on her lungs and whatnot.

Her mind whirs. Races through possibilities and pitfalls with a speed that would be impressive if Emma weren’t already so close to that record, and she is going to break that record. Somehow she manages not to fall, though. From her chair or the metaphorical climbing wall in her brain, ignoring the sudden dryness of her mouth and the increasing size of her tongue.

Her nails are going to leave little half-moon creases in her palm.

“I don’t—” she starts, and eventually she will wish she was more articulate. For what turns out to be a very nice story.

Standing up, the reporter’s seat creaks as she moves toward the desk they deposited Emma behind after even. Several Olympic officials move to block her, but Emma shakes her head again, and she’s not exactly high-priority on the list of defensible athletes, anyway. So, none of them flinch when the reporter slides a phone closer to Emma, her crazed thoughts briefly lingering on how many phones a reporter could possibly need, but then her eyes drop, and she’s not sure if her ears can actually perk, but Emma certainly tries because she hears him yelling before she sees him.

Her smile shifts.

And the cameras flash again.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s collegiate life, because Anna demands it.

She’s only half-listening, so Emma can never be entirely sure what it was, exactly, she was agreeing to, but in her experience, the agreement doesn’t matter so much as the action, and her roommate’s younger sister is unstoppable when it comes to action. So, Emma is dimly aware of a plan. Something about the baseball house and that one left fielder is in a handful of her classes.

David—something.

He’s got a girlfriend, too. A nice one. Who always smells like sugar when she slides into the seat next to David whatever his last name is, sitting in the row in front of Emma during their Tuesday-Thursday statistics class.

Emma hates statistics.

She doesn’t hate Anna, though. Or her roommate, one of the better college-based surprises, and either Anna has magic or Elsa is an enormous pushover because somehow all three of them are ready at the same time, and the walk to the baseball house isn’t far.

First-year players guard the door — passing out color-coded wristbands that absolutely do not do their job because it takes about six seconds of well-meaning flirting and batted eyelashes between Anna and a mountain of muscle masquerading as the team’s starting catcher to get them inside. With purple wristbands and two tickets for jungle juice instead of the keg.

“Victory,” Anna cries, twisting through the crowd. Half of it is already teetering on the edge of drunk, the rest free-falling into the pit of imminent hangovers, and Emma isn’t sure she’d classify their drinks as a victory, but it’s definitely better than watered-down beer.

And it doesn’t take long, really. By Emma’s shaky count, it’s not even a half-hour before the muscle — who introduces himself as Kristoff, and really is pretty cute, actually — returns, standing unnaturally close to Anna’s left shoulder, furtive glances shared out of the corners of their eyes. Emma rolls hers. Elsa’s appear perpetually stuck to the ceiling. It looks oddly sticky up there.

“Go,” Elsa says, and it’s not an instruction. Barely counts as more than a whisper, really. Anna lights up all the same. Like an alcohol-fueled Christmas tree.

Who does not need telling more than once.

Hands reach and smiles widen, Kristoff mumbling something that sounds like it was nice to meet you before he’s following Anna back to the beer pong table, leaving Elsa and Emma standing in the middle of a sea of raging hormones. All of which want to be there way more than either one of them does.

“Well,” Elsa mutters, “that was polite.”

Emma snickers into her glass. A mostly empty glass. That’s surprising. “Got that going for him.” “Plus, his on-base is nuts this year.”

“Say that again.” “On-base percentage,” Elsa repeats, making sure to do it slowly for maximum sarcastic emphasis. Emma’s eyes are going to fall out. That won’t end well. There are too many shuffling feet in this room.

“What does that mean?” “How often he gets on base.” Opening her mouth does nothing. Closing it does even less. Elsa looks overjoyed. “I know things,” she shrugs, “and I’m pretty positive Anna and Kristoff have been not-so-secretly dating since the start of the semester, so—” “You stalked your sister’s secret boyfriend?” “Stalk’s a very dirty word, don’t you think? No, no, there was no stalking. There was light research. One Google search and a single click to the team’s roster, and now I know he’s from Minnesota, too.” “Awfully convenient for the romance of the century.” Humming, Elsa takes a larger-than-usual sip before scrunching her nose in displeasure. At her empty cup. Emma has no idea how they ended up with empty cups so quickly. Suddenly the baseball house feels a bit like a time warp. Enter and drink and find the love of your life. Or something like that.

“I got next,” Emma says, ignoring Elsa’s laugh because she is not the sort of person who says things like that. It’s this house. This place. With its music and its happiness, and she’s not really a sports person. Can only marginally understand the joy of watching other people accomplish something. She has no idea what on-base percentage is.

Still.

Her feet move. Fingers curl over the rim of red solo cups, like the most cliché version of her college self. Her drinks get refilled. And it’s just as Emma’s about to let herself wonder if, maybe, sports aren’t all that bad and might even possess a bit of inherent romanticism, she slams into something.

Someone, more like.

Taller than her, he has to peer down his nose to glare at Emma. That’s fair. They’re both far more damp than they were ten seconds before. Some of that moisture ensures that the hem of his shirt sticks to his stomach. A very flat stomach. That draws Emma’s eyes because she’s human and slightly intoxicated, and it takes quite a lot more than she’s willing to admit to lift her chin, but then she’s glad she does. Even with the understandable glare.

“Shit,” she breathes, “your eyes are stupid blue.”

He narrows them. She hates that. Which is about all it takes for her to get royally pissed off, too.

“Can you pay attention to where you’re walking?”

The stupidly blue eyes blink. Darken a shade, like all his frustration is centered directly around his pupils, and the shirt he’s wearing is team-branded. Another baseball player, then.

“You ran into me!” Oh, Oh. Well, that sucks. He’s got a good voice, too. Eyes and voice and the few strands of hair that fall toward those eyes when he continues to glare at Emma likely aren’t supposed to make her stomach flip.

It’s the alcohol’s fault.

Or sports. Like, in general.

“Because you take up so much space,” Emma snarls He leans forward. Looms, really. Over her and around her, smelling like punch and body wash. It’s gross and absolutely wonderful. “Gotta pick a lane, love. Either I ran into you, or I was in the way.”

“It can definitely be both and there is nothing resembling love here.”

“So I can see. You have a name, wrecking ball?” “My shoes are never going to unstick from this floor.” To his credit, he does waver. His lips twist — which makes it all too obvious how much Emma is staring at his lips, but, seriously, the alcohol. Plus, it’s so hot in this house she can barely think straight. She wonders where he buys his body wash. He smells better than he should in this house. So, it's clear he considers. Ponders, even. Until his hands dart out and those hands are somehow warmer than every person in this house combined, heat scorching through Emma’s t-shirt as he lifts her off the ground.

Only to deposit her approximately fourteen inches to her left.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” “Look,” he grins, “you’re unstuck.” “Bastard!” “Eh, not technically.” “What?” “Not technically a bastard. Orphan, I suppose. But that’s kind of a mood ruiner, don’t you think?”

Emma’s fish impression is really going great. The grin becomes a smirk. Her stomach refuses to stay still. “Is there a mood to ruin?” “Might be if you tell me your name.”

Emma wavers, that time. Considers and ponders. Weighs the pros and cons while laughter drifts past her ears, consummate collegiate experiences that she’s only ever let herself be passably jealous of. A dark-haired girl’s talking to Elsa in the opposite corner.

And the hand hanging in front of her wiggles its fingers.

It’s still ridiculously warm when she grabs it. “Emma Swan.” “Killian Jones.”

Anna’s secret relationship becomes a real relationship no less than sixteen hours following what Elsa begins to call the Drink Incident.

And they become—

Baseball people.

Becoming baseball people is not bad. Not really. Emma likes the baseball team. She understands what WHIP is, now. Kristoff adores Anna, so that’s good. David, who does, in fact, have a last name, continues to be as nice as assumed, and his girlfriend sort of quasi adopts Emma. Mary Margaret Blanchard brims with positivity and an innate sort of joy that would usually annoy Emma, but most of that joy also serves as a direct counter to the snark that Killian Jones appears flush with. So, it’s something of a wash, really.

Plus, he’s a very sore Monopoly loser.

And Emma finds it endlessly entertaining.

“Stop that,” he grunts, glaring at the board with the sort of force Emma’s become accustomed to in the last few months, while she taps on the space in front of her, “I know how many spots it is.” Emma smiles. “So move, then.” “I’ll be bankrupt.” “Capitalism does that.” “Tell me more about capitalism, Swan.”

She doesn’t startle, so there’s that. Not much else, though. Not when a noticeable bit of equally familiar heat skitters down her spine. Her head tilts. His head remains frustratingly still, staring at the board like the spaces will change or Mary Margaret will tear down some of her hotels on Marvin Gardens.

Neither thing happens.

The heat pools. At the small of her back, inching dangerously close to that space between her hips, like it’s trying to tether her to this spot and this moment and its people. Baseball people. People who so clearly care about everything so much that even the cynic in Emma can appreciate it. Plus, they’re all ridiculously competitive.

David had to take a walk when Mary Margaret bankrupt him earlier.

“That’s about the extent of my capitalism knowledge,” Emma admits with a shrug, “I sucked at economics.” Pulling his gaze away from the board, Emma’s less prepared for the force behind Killian’s eyes than she was for the appearance of a nickname that might not warrant the title. It’s just her name, after all. But it sounds like more than that. Sinks under her skin with alarming ease, the precise tone of it wrapping its way around a variety of internal organs until they’re all beating at the same tempo and— “Move my piece for me.”

Kristoff groans. Mary Margaret chuckles. Elsa looks far too sure of herself. Knows everything, indeed.

And it’s not really a command, but there’s that same sense of something that found its way into the sound of Emma’s name and Killian’s voice, and he catches her by surprise. On a variety of levels. His fingers jump the moment hers reach out, all heat and an alarming size difference, his brows lifting when she turns her head.

“You’re taking this game way too seriously, you know,” Emma says. What she doesn’t say is more important, though. Because they’re not friends, really. They’re—acquaintances. Some kind of appropriate metaphor regarding a planet’s many moons and the tendency of those moons to orbit something far bigger than them. But they like each other, too. As much as they dance and twist, do their best to avoid getting hit in the batter’s box, Emma’s more comfortable bantering with him than just about anyone she’s ever met, a challenge in every conversation, and she’s rather loath to realize she’s memorized the different ways the blue in his eyes flash.

Now it feels a bit like a spotlight.

“Matter of pride, Swan.” “Is it just?” If there are other people laying on their stomachs in that living room, half-empty glasses by their hands and equipment stacked in various corners, Emma forgets about them. Quickly. Immediately. Killian doesn’t move his fingers.

He nods.

And Mary Marget only kind of gloats when she bankrupts him.

She dances when she wins, though.

It’s embarrassing. It’s absolutely, goddamn wonderful.

Realizing that baseball is a game of statistics ruins kind of Emma’s day. It makes Killian laugh. Her favorite sort of laugh. Where he throws his head back, an arm around his middle, and his shoulders shaking. Those same strands of hair she noticed that first night fall back toward lidded eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting in an angle Emma is sure she could determine if she just didn’t hate math so much, and it takes about four seconds, her head tilting back and forth twice and one swipe of her tongue to lean forward on the couch they're sharing, tilt her head up and press her lips to his.

Press is a vast understatement.

Crash, more like.

A bases-clearing double into the left-field gap.

She knows so many baseball terms now, it’s ridiculous.

It’s because she keeps going to games. With Anna. Without Anna. With Elsa. Without Elsa. With Mary Margaret every single time. And it creeps on so slowly, she’s practically a Jane Austen heroine, but then Emma finds she cares as much as everyone else. Screams herself hoarse at every crack of the bat. Jumps and fist bumps with startling regularity. Experiences the flutter of butterflies in her flip-prone stomach before ninth-inning rallies.

She memorizes statistics. Killian’s statistics, especially.

Because the Draft is a week away, and the nerves rolling off him are even more potent than his body wash. Bought in bulk from a locally-owned company, she learns.

Killian hates capitalism, too.

Which is only part of the reason she likes him, but right now all of the reason is centered around how it feels as if the world is shifting on its axis and what, precisely, he is capable of with his tongue. Quite a lot if this first time at bat is anything to believe.

Emma laughs.

Joy bubbles from the very center of her, pushing at the seam of her lips, and it’s not much of a seam when her mouth is open to accommodate tongue, but it’s enough of a sound that Killian pulls back. No glare. Definitely eyebrow movement, though.

“That’s not the best confidence boost, you know.” “I’m straddling you,” Emma counters, nodding toward the knees on either side of his, and she has no idea when her fingers found his hair. It’s very soft.

“How did that happen?” “What was that about confidence?”

Dropping his head, she gets a different sort of laugh, one that’s just as potent in its ability to settle into her bloodstream and the empty spaces around her heart, and sports have turned her into a sap. “I like you a lot,” Killian murmurs. Emma’s heart explodes. Metaphorically speaking.

“Good.” “Expand on that, for me.” She pinches his side, almost prepared for the way it leaves him bucking beneath her. Less prepared for the mutual groan it causes. Killian’s eyes widen. “I like you a lot,” Emma repeats, and his arms tighten, and her heart knits itself back together, and the second time through the kissing order is even better.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s nearly-adult life, because Anna demands it.

“I just think it’ll be fun,” Anna says, not for the first time. And, not for the first time, she ignores the pointed look Emma and Elsa exchange. Elsa’s lips have all but disappeared behind her teeth “Think about it,” Anna continues, “we need something to do before the game, anyway. This way we’re—you know, staying active.” Emma’s eyebrows jump. Fly. Soar into her hairline where the level of her disbelief sits, all too aware of the ring hanging around her neck.

A Draft Day gift. As much as a family heirloom can be a gift. But Killian claimed it was good luck, his brother’s ring, because turns out that snark is at least a partial product of a wholly depressing childhood, and Emma supposes there’s something to be said for common ground. Understanding, too. Stories shared over weeks that turned to months that turned to years and seasons in the minors, and it absolutely figures Killian’s Major League debut is happening in Cincinnati. Where Kristoff plays.

It’s ridiculous how in love with him she is.

Killian. Not Kristoff.

Anna is still talking. “There’s nothing else to do in Cincinnati,” she reasons, which seems unfair to the city itself but not entirely untrue, and even the concept of chili on spaghetti grosses Emma out. “Also,” Anna adds, sounding as if she’s reached the final bullet point on her list of possible arguments, “I’ve got a Groupon deal for this place.”

Elsa blinks. “I didn’t realize Groupon was even still a thing.” “Surprise!”

Emma’s laugh isn’t entirely honest, but her sigh of acceptance is and—

Turns out she’s pretty good at it.

Goddamn fantastic, actually.

At rock climbing. Indoor rock climbing. Her feet push her up the wall with ease, the steady ache in her arms welcome and wonderful and a slew of other alliterative adjectives. That leave Killian grinning like a maniac, but it’s been a weird and equally wonderful day, without a hit, but two walks, so that ups the on-base, and Emma’s really, seriously in love with him.

“I don’t know what it was,” she says, preening just a bit under Killian’s stare. Hotel lighting casts shadows on his cheeks, slumped as he is against every pillow they could find. Even the ones in the closet. He’s not supposed to be in here for much longer, both of them aware of the team-ordained curfew hanging over them, but the pre-game nerves are long gone. Replaced instead with exhilaration and endorphins, the kind that could win Elle Woods a headline-making case. “But,” Emma continues, “I just kept moving, and the guy said it was, like, a course record. Is course the right word, you think?” Killian lifts a shoulder. Even as it’s covered in ice and tape. The play he made at third is going to show on loop. On TV. In Emma’s memory. She’s never yelled that loud before.

People took pictures.

And then she cried. Like a giant sap.

“This is your show, Swan,” Killian chuckles, pride infusing the words. As if she’s the one who deserves the pride today. It’s entirely possible she cried for multiple minutes after that play. They definitely showed that on the YES Network. Mary Margaret texted her no less than forty-seven times.

“I was really fast.” Killian hums, fingers fluttering enough to make it clear he wants her closer. Emma doesn’t argue. They’re a mess of limbs and mouths and that tongue thing they’ve collectively gotten better at giving and receiving over the years, hands that warm with the sort of confidence borne of repetition. Some joke about BP and finding your swing.

“Plus,” he says, a soft laugh at Emma’s noise of displeasure when talking means far less kissing, “becoming a rock climbing savant means more upper-body work, and you know how I love your arms.” Guffawing the way Emma does is not particularly romantic. Doesn’t matter. The sound comes, and the joy remains, a steady stream pumping through all her extremities and clouding her thoughts. In the best way possible. Before Killian, Emma didn’t know this could be that. Fun and easy, not quite simple, but something she’s willing to work for. Athletes are notoriously determined, after all.

Part of her wonders if a proclivity to rock climbing makes her an athlete, too.

“Please,” she says, laughter clinging to the letters even as she finds herself moved directly over Killian’s outstretched legs, “provide, in detail, everything you enjoy about my arms.” “I didn’t say enjoy.” “Were you misquoted, Jones?” His eyes flash. Glow, honestly. At her and because of her and athletes also know how to work their opponents. Goad them into making mistakes. Something about a pitcher’s duel and a battle in the box. Where the box is this bed. And Emma’s winning.

“I love your arms,” Killian says. Dragging his mouth against the column of her throat leaves goosebumps on Emma’s skin. Her back arches. His hand flattens. The compliments continue. Turn into promises. Guarantees. Of a future that’s spread out at their feet now, if only they reach for it.

Turns out Emma’s pretty good at reaching for things. When she wants them.

“This isn’t, like, free-scale, though, is it?”

Her heart cannot be expected to handle much more of this.

“Don’t worry,” Emma says, “all proper safety precautions were taken. Plus, I wouldn’t fall off the wall.”

Killian’s expression shutters. Not in any of that frustration Emma so clearly understood when his shirt was damp, and her shoes were unsalvagable despite his best efforts to get the school’s equipment manager to dry-clean them. No, it’s—it’s something big and important and unspoken, and Emma pulls his hand up. To rest directly over the rink that’s still tucked beneath her t-shirt.

His t-shirt.

It’s got his last number on it, at least.

“Would you catch me if I fell off the wall?” He doesn’t answer at first. Doesn’t mention the absurdity of a question that does not make sense, but those literal and metaphorical clock hands are ticking, and if they don’t replace his ice soon, they’re going to destroy these sheets. “Every single time, Swan.” “Right back at you.”

Killian doesn’t miss curfew, but it’s pretty close.

And Emma wakes up to twelve texts with links for indoor rock climbing gyms in the greater New York City area.

“Holy shit, this is hard.”

Grunting more than laughing, Emma’s fingers curl around the rock in front of her. Chalk cakes itself on the pads of those fingers, stuck beneath her nails and, somehow, the bend of her elbow. “Are you not an All-Star?” she asks, glancing at Killian.

“I do not see how that factors into this at all.”

“Huh, weird.” “Suspiciously sounds like an accusation.” “Weird,” Emma repeats. They’re halfway up a wall only one of them is really supposed to be on, but the other person several feet below them is faring far worse than the pair of them combined, so, that takes precedence in her mind. “He knows a lot more curse words than I realized.” “He’s showing off,” Killian grumbles, forehead resting against the wall.

Will Scarlet hasn’t moved in five minutes. Possibly six. Maybe a round ten. He's much better at second base.

“I cannot feel my arms,” he calls, and Emma’s laugh is better that time. Purer, somehow. As if happiness can actually have a sound. Even happiness that comes with sweat on her temple and a noticeable ache in her triceps and she sort of loves this.

Sort of is a vast understatement.

“Showing off, huh?” Emma asks. She finds her next footfall with ease, happiness blooming into confidence that’s become nearly consistent these days and weeks and years. It does not take her long to feel the stare that’s lingering on her. On her ass, specifically.

She glances over her shoulder. To find her fiancé smiling at her. And staring at her ass.

“Can I help you, love?” “Whatcha doing?” “Ogling you, obviously.” “Forearms feeling good?” He nods. Sort of. There’s a distinct slope to the back of his neck and more sweat on his brown than Emma’s. Not as much as Scarlet’s, probably. “Fantastic,” Killian drawls, “keep going, Swan, someone’s got to show us how to do it.” “Try not to fall off the wall, huh? Last thing we need is the might of the Yankees front office coming after us.” “I don’t think I can move my hands,” Will shouts. Killian doesn’t move. It’s impressive forearm strength. Blushing on the wall is not usually how Emma’s days go.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises, and Emma moves. He follows her. Up the wall and to the top, a quick brush of his lips against her shoulder that leaves Scarlet cursing even more, despite his presence on the floor, but then there’s lemon-flavored water and exceptionally soft towels and Emma’s caught a bit off guard by the question.

“Are there leagues for this?” Will asks. “Because you should probably be winning things for this.” Emma blinks. Considers. Wonders. Turns to Killian.

He’s still smiling. Broadly, in fact.

“We could look.” They do. They fill out paperwork. Buy fancy climbing shoes that Emma claims cost too much, but Killian’s a pushover and even more stubborn and she wins the first race she signs up for.

Plus, ten more after that.

Emma climbs indoor rock walls. Killian hits home runs. Occasionally they do these things simultaneously, and it usually leads to her nearly falling off the wall because everyone in her Tribeca gym knows what it means when WFAN is playing on the speakers.

Sometimes they shout out John Sterling’s home run call with him.

She gets better. He gets better.

They do end up destroying sheets in various hotels across the country. For various reasons. Not all of them post-game or ice related. There are games and events. Wins and losses. Back page spreads that Emma frames and hangs on their apartment walls, right next to other, smaller frames, with the same smiling faces who, once upon a time, called a sticky-floored baseball house home, and Killian’s fingers are warm in hers when the tears prick her eyes at Anna and Kristoff’s wedding.

There are stories. Think pieces and hot takes on a variety of drive-time radio shows. Those are all about Killian, though. He’s the athlete. The true one, some stories say. It’s impressive what Emma does, they admit, but it’s a hobby, and she’s got a grown-up career, anyway. So, she’s got more climbing records than she knew ever existed, but she’s not doing it for press, and both Mary Margaret and Anna weep at her and Killian’s wedding.

She wears her ring on a chain next to her other one when she climbs.

Every time Killian notices them hanging there, Emma swears, his eyes brighten. It’s her favorite thing in the whole, goddamn world.

“What is this?” He doesn’t answer. Just holds the sheet of paper he must have printed out in the clubhouse because they certainly don’t have a printer at home, and one of the edges is bent. Like he had to fit it in his back pocket.

“Going the stoic route, huh?” Emma quips, but there’s a noticeable hitch in her pulse. One that’s been there for weeks. Since the rumblings started, and the rumors began, whispers of possibility, and first-ever has a very nice ring to it. One side of Killian’s mouth tugs up. “Oh, that’s not fair.” “I’d like the record to show, that the only reason I didn’t know immediately was because I was in the trainer’s room, so—” “What were you in the trainer’s room for?” Killian ignores her. Well, sort of. His eyes shift, and his gaze holds, and Emma knows. Right down in the marrow of her. What the paper is and how Scarlet is the one who printed it out, but she’s even more confident Killian carried it home, and that does something funny to her entire worldview. Widens it and minimizes it at the same time, focusing on this and them and the possibility that creates.

In an athletic sort of way.

“My shoulder’s kind of sore.” Emma scoffs. “Oh, that’s pointed.” “I’m sure your shoulders are fine. Golden, even.’ “This is not your best work, you know that?” “Look at the paper.” “Did you fold it yourself?” “And then took a car back home. You really didn’t see yet?” Emma shakes her head. He knows the answer, too. He’s the one with the Google alert, after all. Because she’s still a bit of a pessimist at heart and an adult with a real job, and this is too much and abjectly terrifying, and the last thing she expects is for Killian to crouch in front of her.

One of his knees cracks.

“Don’t,” he warns, even as Emma does her best to swallow her laugh. Warm hands land on her thighs, a quiet steadiness that helps the state of her pulse and makes the possibility of the unknown a little less overwhelming. The lines crossing the center of the paper are absurdly straight. “You’re going to go.” “Oh, that sounded like a decree.” “A suggestion.” “A strong one.” “Mmhm, with the utmost confidence.” Emma makes an impressive sound. “Who’s doing your media training? What an impressive vocabulary you’ve got on you.” “Ready and willing to use it in a persuasive manner.” “Keep talking like that, and you won’t have to.” The smirk disappears. Evolves into a grin that is only Emma’s and only appears in moments like this, support clinging to air molecules and the ends of hair that constantly seems determined to fall into Killian’s eyes. “Passed, huh? All cool with the IOC.” “Decidedly cool. Officially an Olympic sport, now. Although the name could use some work. Sport climbing lacks a little oomph, don’t you think?”

“What would you call it?” “Emma Swan wins Olympic gold.” “Kinda wordy.” “Prophetic,” Killian corrects, hands shifting and pulling, and Emma has to widen her legs. His head’s at a very good kissing angle. “You’ve already got the qualifying numbers.” “You looked at the qualifying numbers?” “Don’t insult me like that. What do you think I did in the backseat?” “Planned the entire 2020 Olympics, apparently.” “Not the entire Olympics,” Killian counters, "just the part involving you. And maybe my individual expectations regarding the United States baseball team, but that’s another conversation altogether.”

“Naturally.”

“You’re using that voice.”

Widening her eyes does nothing. Emma didn’t expect it to. Not after years and games and events because rock climbing has events, and one time Mary Margaret made her a sign. Killian held it. He’s taller, that’s why.

“Don’t,” Killian repeats, “this is happening.” “Yuh-huh?” “You heard me. It’s your turn, now.” Melting is an impossibility. Like, for a human. Even so. Emma feels like she’s melting. Some of that pessimism evaporating under the warmth of Killian’s gaze and his hands and the determination in the precise angle of his chin. Same one he uses when he steps into the box with runners in scoring position.

Lumping herself into that group isn’t as insulting as Emma once believed it would be.

“God,” Emma groans, “that’s romantic.” “You’re really selling it, love.”

“This is supposed to be a hobby.” “One you’re exceedingly good it. World record good at it.” “I like you.” “That’s my end game, yeah.” She laughs. Smiles. Continues melting. Which is easier once they get rid of their clothing, and their bed is way more comfortable than any hotel they’ve encountered. And she falls asleep with Killian’s lips against her ear, Emma Swan, Olympic gold medalist whispered on loop like it’s a mantra he’s been practicing.

They postpone the Olympics.

It sucks. Everything sucks. Baseball sucks. Gyms are closed. Emma gets creative, and Killian gets research-prone. They build a makeshift wall. She tosses him BP.

People write stories about it.

It doesn’t help.

Until—

Time passes. Some things change. Others don’t. Their wall stands up to the elements of their building’s courtyard, and Killian’s hitting better than ever this season, a victory Emma’s going to claim as at least partially hers. And then the Olympics are back, and it’s qualifying and racing and a record that’s just out of reach, but she’s good enough even without it, and, this time, she’s the one packing a suitcase.

He kisses her.

Does the tongue thing.

Holds onto her like he’s only a little afraid she’s going to fall off the wall, but now the wall is international competition, and Emma’s freaking out a little.

“I love you,” she says into the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten. “I love you too.” “Gold medal?” “Gold medal.” “Hit some home runs while I’m gone, huh?” Lips graze her temple. Her forehead. The bridge of her nose. Emma might be crying, and Mary Margaret’s definitely recording, a small mob of red white, and blue surrounding them. “I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises.

“Good.”

He hits three before her first qualifying round. So, Emma takes that as a challenge. She’s an athlete now.

It’s why, she figures, her fingers don’t slip on her first run.

Her feet are sure. Her breathing is steady. There’s no one cheering her name, but she’s long since memorized the exact way Killian’s voice lifts above a crowd. How he pushes up on his toes to watch, as if standing up taller makes sure he’s closer to her. Should she need him when she falls off the wall. Only, Emma doesn’t fall, and she’s got no intention of ever falling and—

Her laugh shudders out of her in a watery sort of way that makes the journalist still standing in front of her flinch ever so slightly. Twitter makes sure the video starts playing again as soon as it finishes, which is somehow the best and worst thing that has ever happened to her. Best because, well, Emma’s honestly not sure she’s ever seen her husband like this.

Worst because she’s very nearly goddamn crying. Again.

Bobbing on the balls of his feet in front of his locker, whoever’s recording the video — it’s Scarlet, obviously — is practically frenzied behind the camera, barely able to contain their laughter. Killian doesn’t notice. He’s holding his own phone, all five of his free fingers firmly entrenched in the back of his hair. It’s gotten softer with age, Emma thinks.

She can’t stop watching him.

Every inhale is a clear struggle, the bobbing turning into pacing and quiet mumbling she can hear perfectly. As if she’s standing right in front of him.

Or at least slightly to the side. So as not to stand on the logo in the middle of the clubhouse.

Athletes are notoriously superstitious, too.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Killian chants, another noticeable snicker from Scarlet, “right there, right there, and pull, pull—Swan, pull up!”

“I did pull up there,” Emma mumbles. To the reporter, maybe. Or the world. Possibly her husband. Who was definitely more nervous about the first run than her.

God, that’s romantic.

Killian’s still talking. Shouting, more like. It’s a miracle Scarlet hasn’t fallen over yet.

“Faster, faster, you can go faster than that, Swan—” Emma clicks her tongue. “That’s kind of insulting.”

There’s an appropriate titter of laughter from the peanut gallery, which is a joke she was not trying to make, but she’s also dangerously close to swooning in the middle of press and she should have asked the Yankees for media training. Someone would have made sure she didn’t make a total ass of herself.

“Show me the time,” Killian yells, another demand that isn’t that. It’s too wobbly a string of words to hold any real power, just the supportive sort of desperation Emma’s felt in a variety of ninth innings and series-clinching moments. “Faster! Faster!” “Talking to the time or the judges or your wife?” Scarlet asks.

Killian nearly snarls.

Emma blinks. Hyperactively. Crying is not usually her shtick. More camera flashes...flash, Emma barely noticing them with her eyes glued to a phone screen that isn’t hers because she at least knows not to bring her phone to a press conference, and she can only imagine how many text messages she’s gotten.

Even on the other side of the world.

They post the times.

She knows because Killian gets some rather impressive height on his celebratory vertical. Fingers abandoning his hair, his fist pumps the air, and Scarlet’s not laughing so much as he’s whooping, a steady stream of yeah, yeah, yeah in the background. And for about half a breath, Emma’s worried Killian may turn one of his ankles on his landing, but he’d think that was insulting, and she’s really just full-on swooning now.

“How many people have seen this?’ she asks the reporter, already knowing the answer.

The reporter smiles anyway. Emma should learn her name.

“Pretty much the whole world.” When Emma was a kid — the sort of kid who believed alone was better, and there was strength in singularity, that would have terrified her. Bowled her over, really. Left her running without looking back, desperate to shed any sort of notoriety because notoriety meant attention, and attention meant inevitable disappointment.

Maybe that’s why she was never much of a sports person.

Sports disappoint you. They build you up and let you down, a sharp and sudden fall without a safety net. But sometimes. Sometimes, every so often, something wonderful happens. Sports lift you. Right up an indoor wall. Because, she knows, sports’ power comes from belief, from surrendering yourself to something bigger and better, and she’s back on that alliterative kick, but the tears are barely clinging to her eyelashes now and Emma herself is bigger and better, now.

In an international, decidedly romantic sort of way.

The video’s playing away.

“Let’s go,” Killian cries, and there it is. Her sound and their sound, cheering across an ocean and time zones that are still kind of messing with her sleep schedule.

Emma’s smile stretches.

“Let’s go,” she repeats.

It ends, as with most things in Emma’s gold-medal-winning life, because Anna plans it.

Stepping out of the terminal, it takes less than a full breath for the cheers to start. For the banners to lift and the tears to flow, a small platoon of support covered in the sort of patriotic gear they definitely got from the Old Navy in Herald Square.

Flashes burst behind Emma’s eyelids because she’s got to blink or she’ll definitely fall over. Her legs wobble beneath her, contending against a wave of triumph and jubilation, which is sort of the same word, but they’ve got a game at the Stadium tonight, so she doesn’t expect, she just hopes and reaches, and he has to twist around both Anna and Mary Margaret.

It’s wonderfully cyclical.

As is the way Emma slams herself against him. On purpose, this time. Killian’s arms tighten, more cheers and shouts, and people a few feet away start chanting USA over and over. Emma barely hears them. Her feet aren’t touching the ground, so she’s kind of preoccupied.

They’re all arms and mouths, and her legs wrapped securely around a body that probably shouldn’t be supporting hers when she knows he slid into second two nights ago, but Killian clearly has no intention of letting her down, and the medal around her neck bumps against her rings.

“You’re a very good cheerleader; you know that?” He hisses. In what, Emma can’t imagine. Embarrassment, if the red tips of his ears are anything to go by, and she’s got ideas as to why that is and how long the conversation about social media with Scarlet went, so Emma does the only reasonable thing.

She slams her lips against her home-run hitting husband’s, doing her best to make sure the gold medal doesn’t mistakenly impale either one of them, and the world tilts again. With victory and sports-based support and the sort of love that comes from believing in something bigger.

And better than Emma could have ever imagined.

“I didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

“Please,” Emma scoffs, “don’t insult me like that. Plus, I’m claiming every one of those home runs as my own, so comparatively—” He kisses her before she can say anything else.

That’s for the best, probably.

“Your arms looked ridiculously good the whole time.”

Her laugh doesn’t even sound like her when Emma hears it played back — another video that someone tells her goes viral, only she doesn’t care about hits or site traffic, just about the particular shade of blue in Killian’s eyes, and she wears her medal to the game that night.

Because they’re a sports power couple, now.

Or so the New York Post back page claims the next day.

Emma frames it.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Nie Huaisang/Wen Ning - after Guanyin Temple, Nie Huaisang offers his patronage to Wen Ning as one last fuck you to JGY, which escalates into friendship and more because they have a lot in common - weak younger brothers with a hidden scary side, the last in their family standing after JGY got the rest killed, and they probably both have a great morbid sense of humor. who says romance is dead?

ao3

Untamed

After everything that happened, Wen Ning knew that Wei Wuxian was too fragile to deal with him – Wei Wuxian might not notice the slight flinch every time he saw him again, remembered again, all the darkness and misery that came with making Wen Ning what he was, all those bad memories with only a few good ones to leaven them – and so he stayed back, lingered.

Maybe that was why he saw it.

Nie Huaisang, the undisputed victor of an all-around terrible evening, sitting on the steps of the temple, looking exhausted and miserable, as if he’d won nothing at all.

Wen Ning found himself drifting over to him.

“Sorry about getting you possessed,” Nie Huaisang said without looking up when Wen Ning got close enough. “Baxia doesn’t have much respect for other people.”

Wen Ning hadn’t actually minded being possessed, if he was being honest about it. Sure, in retrospect, being used as a living puppet that could harm his friends – again – was somewhat distressing, but the actual experience hadn’t been that bad at all.

“It was very warm,” he said, because it had been. Warm and safe, cradled within a stronger power that would take care of everything – it had reminded him of his older sister. “Baxia feels things very strongly. She loved you a lot.”

A quick flash of surprise, almost a smile. “I appreciate that,” Nie Huaisang said. “I always got the impression that she thought I was – well, useless, right up until I started planning on doing this, and that’s when she decided she liked me.”

“I don’t think so,” Wen Ning said, and sat down next to him. “She liked you before that. It was more – watching someone you care for grow up, and in a way you approve of.”

He thought about it for a second.

“But please don’t do more of that,” he added. “That was – a lot.”

Nie Huaisang snorted. “You have no idea.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes more.

“Speaking of more,” Nie Huaisang finally said, “what are you planning on doing next? You can’t keep following Wei-xiong around all the time.”

Wen Ning really couldn’t.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe spend some more time with A-Yuan.”

Not too much, though. He deserved to be with people his own age, doing things they liked, not stuck with Wen Ning.

“Lan Sizhui? Good idea.”

Wen Ning blinked, and turned to look at him. “You know?”

“I’m smart, I can do math, and I’ve gotten Xichen-xiong drunk at least a dozen times over the years,” Nie Huaisang said. “Yes, I know.”

Wen Ning decided not to comment. “Other than that, I have no idea,” he said. “Why do you ask? Do you have any use for a corpse puppet?”

“None whatsoever,” Nie Huaisang said, and Wen Ning was struck by the strangest feeling of disappointment at the answer. “I could use a good nurse, though, if you’re available. I heard you were once very good at that.”

Wen Ning stared at him.

“This whole business hasn’t been very good for me,” Nie Huaisang said with a shrug that was far too casual for the subject matter of the conversation. “My family – we’re not the best at swallowing our rage, and I had to do it for sixteen years. There’s some damage from that. Could flare up any time.”

Qi deviation, he meant, and Wen Ning’s heart lurched at the thought. He’d been possessed by Baxia, who remembered what her master had endured; the idea of the brilliant mastermind, Nie Huaisang, being struck down so brutally, and all because he wanted to see his brother avenged…

Wen Ning had had to see his older sibling struck down, too. He didn’t mind ruthlessness in pursuit of vengeance nearly as much as Wei Wuxian seemed to.

“My medicine skills are out of date,” he blurted out. “But I could try to help, if you like.”

“I would,” Nie Huaisang said firmly. Why he had faith in Wen Ning when even Wen Ning didn’t, Wen Ning had no idea. It was a feeling a bit like having a sibling again. “I’ll warn you in advance, though, that even if good sense says I need one, I don’t actually want a nurse – much less one capable of picking me up and forcing me into bed –”

It sounded like that was exactly what Nie Huaisang wanted, and based on the rapidly fading memories Wen Ning had gotten from Baxia, very similar to what his brother used to do when he worried too much about Nie Huaisang’s health.

“– but as a final fuck you to Jin Guangyao, who always wanted his own corpse puppet and failed to get it, it would be pretty great. I hope you don’t mind that reasoning.”

“Not at all,” Wen Ning said. “It’s actually rather nice to have someone just – talk about it. Wei-gongzi mostly pretends that I’m still normal, except for when he needs someone to be strong.”

“I can’t believe you still call him Wei-gongzi,” Nie Huaisang said. “Haven’t you known him for years and years at this point? Sure, there was a bit of a break in the middle, but I was calling him Wei-xiong after about three sentences. You should be on closer terms.”

Wen Ning noted to himself that he was probably going to get his own closer terms very shortly, if that was how Nie Huaisang did things.

He didn’t mind the thought at all.

“I think it’s time for you to rest,” he said, noting the way Nie Huaisang’s knuckles were white where his fingers clenched on Jin Guangyao’s bloodied hat. “You’ve started talking nonsense, Sect Leader Nie.”

“Call me by name, please,” Nie Huaisang said. “If you’re going to tell me that I’m talking nonsense, you can call me names the way everyone else does.”

“I don’t think I will,” Wen Ning said. “But I might call you Nie-xiong, if you don’t mind.”

Nie Huaisang actually smiled at that.

“You can also feel free to go with ‘Huaisang’ at top volume,” he offered, mouth twisted crookedly.

“My sister liked yelling A-Ning at the top of her lungs,” Wen Ning agreed. He knew the pain that curled around Nie Huaisang’s heart far too well. “Come on. Up you go. Gloating over your successful revenge can happen just as well after a good night’s sleep as before.”

“I wasn’t going to gloat,” Nie Huaisang complained, although he allowed Wen Ning to lead him away. “Maybe have a few drinks. Toasts. Something like that. I actually used to like him, you know – and now er-ge’s going to be mad at me forever, and I still mostly like him, too, even if he is a bit of a twit when it comes to people he likes – plus Wei-xiong, of course, he’ll disapprove, he’s all righteous and well-meaning, all best-foot-forward – and where he goes, Jiang-xiong and Lan-xiong go, of course – I mean, it’s not that I didn’t know I wouldn’t have any friends left after this –”

“You can have me,” Wen Ning said. “Now – where are you staying? And who in the world in your sect let you go out with no protection?”

“You make assumptions,” Nie Huaisang said dryly, and nodded his head up towards some of the rooftops; when Wen Ning looked up, he saw archers in dark colors that hadn’t been there before. “He wasn’t making it to Dongying, one way or another.”

“You are a good planner.”

“Very stubborn, that’s all.”

That seemed accurate. Certainly he was dragging his feet like a stubborn donkey.

“Do you want me to pick you up?” Wen Ning asked.

“…yes please.”

Wen Ning had been the useless younger brother for the first half of his life, and the fearsome corpse puppet used as a weapon for the second. He’d never been needed to care for anyone before.

He thought he could very happily spend the next third of his life doing just that.

“Come on,” he told Nie Huaisang. “Let’s get you home.”

[onceuponamirror]

flutter

consequences? of her actions? it’s more likely than you think. nace oneshot, post 2x12, speculative fight and feelings. [read on ao3]

She wakes up disoriented. Her brain adjusts to her surroundings—creaky bed, filtered natural light streaming through plastic curtain panes, and faint smells, all mixing awkwardly with the dull neon sign over Gil’s bed.

Gil’s bed. Right. Now she remembers finding herself outside the Bobbseys’ at midnight, unable to stop herself. It feels like Nick all over again, when she buried her feelings in someone else and begged for a distraction from her own brain. But she keeps seeing Ace on that ledge when she closes her eyes, and can’t bring herself to let the thoughts linger.

The bed is empty, cool to the touch where another body should be. He’s been up for a while then, she thinks. Nancy sits up, straining her eyes against the morning light. Gently, an aroma of coffee and eggs wafts into Gil’s room, and she smiles, realizing he must’ve gotten up to make breakfast.

She pulls on her jeans and boots. Gil hadn’t seemed the type to cook a girl breakfast after a booty call, but maybe she’d misjudged him. She drapes her jacket over her arm and follows her nose to the kitchen.

“That smells gr—oh.” Abruptly, Nancy cuts herself off. It’s not Gil by the stove, but Amanda, who also quickly falls silent halfway through a laugh. At the counter, in his lucky pullover and an unbuttoned flamingo shirt, is Ace, who visibly straightens in his seat when he sees her.

“Uh.” Nancy finishes pulling on her jacket, adjusting her hair around the collar. Her neck feels very hot as she puts the pieces of the scenario together. The three of them, all before 8 am, all at the Bobbseys’s. She flashes Amanda an awkward finger gun. “You’re not Gil.”

Amanda smiles back at her sympathetically. “Sorry,” she replies. She glances down at the eggs sizzling quietly in the pan, and then back to Ace. “But I make a much meaner omelet than him anyway. Want one?”

For a long moment, Nancy just stares back at her. Red alarm sirens are ringing in her thoughts, but she’s still settling with the fact that both she and Ace seemingly slept here. “Is…Gil…here?”

“No. He left, about twenty minutes ago,” Ace says, his voice low. Nancy wonders if he always sounds this grumpy in the morning. “Forgot to mention you were here, though.”

Nancy blinks. “He left? Like—left? Is he coming back?”

Amanda turns off the stove and faces her. “He said he got a freelance gig that he couldn’t pass up. Kind of left in a hurry.” With a slight grimace, Amanda sighs. “Nancy, Gil can be…easily distracted. It makes him forgetful, you know? Of his manners, mostly. He doesn’t mean to be.”

Nodding distractedly, Nancy runs her tongue along her teeth. Of course he runs out the day he was supposed to help her out. After a long moment of Amanda and Ace watching her, he clears his throat. “Why? Did you need him or something?”

Ace’s tone is uncharacteristically harsh, and both she and Amanda turn to look at him. After another awkward beat, Nancy says, “Um. Well, he was supposed to help me run a boat over to this beach for the case I’m working on. It’s kind of…a two man job.”

He looks annoyed, but Amanda just smiles at her. “Well, we can help. Right, Ace? It could be fun. I’ve always wanted to go on one of your mystery adventures with you and Nancy,” she adds. Ace glances between the two of them, looking uncomfortable, but finally nods.

“Sure,” he says slowly, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, we can help.”

“Great,” Amanda says cheerily, and plops the eggs she was cooking onto two plates. “Well, I’m gonna just take a quick shower. You two have these and then we can go!”

She disappears into the back of the trailer, and a few moments later, the sound of running water filters across the room. By the time Nancy glances back at Ace, he’s nearly finished eating the eggs before him, almost as if stuffing his face will keep him from talking to her.

Nancy takes a small bite of the eggs, chewing as painfully slow as she can. “This is good, actually. Maybe Amanda wants Grant’s old job. We still kinda need a line cook.” At the mention of his brother, Ace finally meets her eye. He doesn’t say anything, though—but she notes that he hasn’t left either. Attempting to fill the awkward silence, Nancy pushes on. “You know, I think this is the longest time you’ve been in a room with me since he left.”

“Yeah,” Ace sighs, and averts her look. “I’ve been busy.”

“Really?” She replies, skeptically. “Because it kind of seems like you’ve been avoiding me. Like, I don’t know, you’re mad at me?”

He glances at her again, like he’s considering his words. “Maybe I am.”

Nancy puts down her fork. She’d known this was coming, and hoped it wasn’t. Her hands slide over her face. “I know, I know, this is about the list of names. But…it was an emergency, Ace. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t let you—” She drops her hands from her eyes. “And—and anyway, I fixed it!”

“Yeah, you fixed it with Celia Hudson,” Ace replies curtly, getting to his feet. His voice rises. “You traded the list for letting a murderer get away with killing 12 people on that ship. You didn’t fix anything, Nancy, you just moved it to another place! You made me responsible for you doing—for those 12 lives instead!” 

For a moment, chest heaving, she stares at him. “No,” she says finally, finding a level in her tone. “I made me responsible for the Bonny Scot. Not you. And I will find another way to bring Everett to justice, okay? There’s always another wa—”

“What if there isn’t, Nancy?” He shakes his head, pacing towards her. “Not everything is a puzzle you can just solve, okay? What if he gets away with this and hurts someone else? We know he will. And you’ll get pulled in deeper with the Hudsons. And when that happens—that’s—that’s on me.”

“Then it’s my burden, Ace!” They’re practically shouting now. Dimly, she hopes Amanda can’t hear this through the shower. “You’re right, Ace, okay, I did trade your life for the witnesses and then I traded the witnesses for the Bonny Scot.I made a necessary calculation in a crappy situation. But I did it, not you!”

“For me!” He yells back. She’s not sure she’s ever heard his voice this loud; she wasn’t sure his vocal cords could physically reach this decibel. He exhales, deflating and running his hands through his hair. “It was… a total Slytherin move, Nancy. Okay? Just…admit you didn’t think it through.”

She scoffs, throwing her head back. “Well, that’s rich.”

Hands on his hips, he glowers at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How many federal databases have you hacked into by now, Ace?” She exclaims, throwing her arms out. “I think I stopped counting after you broke my dad out of prison!”

“That was different,” he mumbles. “That was an—”

“Emergency,” she finishes flatly, raising her eyebrows.

Ace purses his lips, and he finally seems somewhat calmed. “Your dad’s life was in imminent danger. I didn’t risk anyone else in the process. But I told you, Nance, at the paper mill. I told you I didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else’s life. ”

“Well, I was responsible for yours,” she replies softly, defeated. He stares at her, chest heaving. “And…I told you, I couldn’t lose you.”

He still doesn’t say anything, but a look passes between them. Her heart flutters so madly against her ribcage she’s afraid he might hear it. She’s reminded of that night after the wraith in the woods, when he’d told her something very similar. He didn’t want to lose her, then. She wonders if he’s thinking the same.

There’s a long moment of silence.

Finally, she nods, and her hand finds itself home on his arm. “I’m sorry I made you feel responsible for the Bonny Scot, Ace, I really am. But…even if you’re right, and I can’t find another solution, then…it’s still my fault. Not yours. It’s my problem, my burden, okay? Please, Ace. I can’t have you mad at me. I can’t…focus when you are. I need you on my team.”

When she meets his eye again, his expression has softened. She can tell the fight has gone out of him. Eyebrows knitted, he says, “No.” Her face falls, but then he continues. “I’m a Hero of Horseshoe Bay too, you know. You shouldn’t have to shoulder it all alone.”

“Yeah, well,” she says, before she can plan otherwise, and steps back from him. She lets out a self-deprecating sound from the back of her throat, thinking of how Gil abandoned her the night after her promised to help. She thinks of Owen Marvin, dead because of her. She thinks of Nick, who was right to have ended things with her. Finally, and bitterly, her thoughts jump to how happy Amanda and Ace had seemed before she walked in. “I’m used to alone.”

His face crumples and he opens his mouth, but whatever Ace is about to say, she’ll never know. Amanda has emerged from the back of the trailer, toweling off her damp hair and already dressed. “Okay, I’m ready,” Amanda says, striding towards them. She pulls to a stop after a moment, having picked up on the strange energy lingering in her kitchen.

Ace is still looking at her with an expression she can’t—won’t—name. If she had to try, it might be pity, or a kinder version of it. She inexplicably feels like crying, but swallows it, unwilling to feel weak in front of Ace’s girlfriend.

“Everything okay?” Amanda asks gently, and Nancy can’t help but think, that’s why Ace likes her. She’s sweet. Her heart squeezes again. Don’t think about it.

Exhaling, Ace nods at Amanda, and then back to Nancy. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

She hopes it’s true.

[bourbonbees]

Suptober Day 15- Blue Skies and Apple Pies

Patience and Pie

Summary: Dean, Cas, and Jack spend some quality time baking an apple pie for Sam and Eileen. It's not perfect, but what is? Other than their family, which Dean would argue is pretty damn perfect. Domestic fluff, pastry related mishaps, and flirting ensue!

Read below the cut or on Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34521685

“There’s no way vodka is supposed to be involved in making a pastry.” Cas argues, stopping Dean from pouring the alcohol into the pie crust mixture. Dean simply heaves a sigh and pulls up the recipe he’s found on some mommy blogger website.

“It does, see! Even Marie says it makes the crust flakier. Honestly, do you think I’m that much of an alcoholic? Wait, don’t answer that.” Dean groans, handing his phone to Cas and letting him read the recipe, waiting patiently, hand on his hip, apron covered in flour.

“Why does she go into such intimate detail about her husband’s work schedule. Where is the recipe?” Cas’ brows are furrowed as scrolls down the article trying to find the recipe, having to go almost all the way to the bottom of the webpage.

“Who knows. All of them do that, overshare. Apparently, that’s a requirement of running a recipe blog, a tendency to over share and owning half of everything you can buy at Crate and Barrel.” Dean explains, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“You know what Crate and Barrel is?” Cas questions, glancing up from the phone and studying Dean suspiciously.

“Don’t act like you don’t hide all those home store catalogues under the bed like some sort of weird porn stash. You thinking of redecorating or something?” Dean teases, gently kicking at Cas’ ankle with the toe of his boot. He found the stash a week ago and has been avoiding bringing it up, just in case Cas was planning to run away and start a new life somewhere more normal.

“Well, you know, ever since Sam and Eileen moved out, this is more our place. You, me, and Jack. Not that I don’t appreciate the simplicity of the Men of Letter’s design sense, but it could do with a bit of a homier touch. Jack deserves a normal home. Don’t you think?” Cas does make a good point, he makes a lot of good points, that’s probably why Dean loves him so much.

“I like it here.” Jack announces as he walks into the kitchen, clearly eaves dropping just outside in the hall.

“Hey kid, if you’re going to lurk, at least make yourself useful.” Dean, tosses Jack an apron and hands him some apples and a fruit peeler.

“Okay! What do I do with these?” Jack asks genuinely, nearly running the peely end of the peeler over his thumb. Dean sometimes forgets the kid is only a toddler since he looks much older, until he does things dangerous things like these. He springs into action, taking the peeler from Jack and holding it by the handle.

“It’s for peeling the apple, like this.” He demonstrates, holding the apple and peeling a strip of the skin off.

“Oh, okay. I understand now.” Jack nods, taking the apple and peeling it over the trash can.

“Ah, it does say vodka. My apologies Dean. But you do understand my skepticism, since you tried to pour bourbon into your cereal that one time.” Cas points out, leave it to him to bring up Dean’s questionable drunk choices.

“I was drunk. It was cocoa puffs, logically, bourbon and chocolate pair really well together.” Dean defends, taking the peeled apple from Jack and starting to cut it into small slices.

“He’s technically right, the flavors are kind of similar.” Jack supplies, always quick to defend Dean.

“How do you know what bourbon tastes like?” Cas asks, Dean raising a finger to his lips to tell Jack to be quiet.

“I don’t.” Jack lies with a shrug, taking another apple and peeling it, pointedly not looking at Cas.

“Damn it Dean, we talked about this. He’s too young to drink.” Cas immediately catches on, hand on his hip as he watches Dean cut up the apples.

“So quick to blame me. What’s wrong pumpkin, don’t you trust me?” Dean tries his best version of Sam’s puppy eyes, hoping it will work on Cas.

“I trust you to be the parent that allows all sorts of shenanigans.” Cas says with a fond shake of his head.

“Shenanigans. You’re so old.” Jack laughs, finishing peeling up the rest of the apples.

“I am, millions of years old and you two make me feel every single one of those years old. If I weren’t an angel my hair would certainly be gray.” Cas points out, running his fingers through his hair, distracting Dean from the work at hand.

“Fuck!” Dean swears when he accidentally nicks his finger with the knife.

“Swear jar!” Jack calls out, pointing to the jar that was mostly full of dollar bills that belong to Dean.

“Not now, he’s hurt. Swearing has been scientifically shown to reduce pain. He gets a pass.” Cas is already next to Dean with a paper towel, wiping up the blood before using his grace to heal his finger.

“You don’t have to do that you know. I can handle a little cut.” Dean frowns, he hates when Cas uses his grace for small injuries like this, he knows it drains his energy at least a little bit. Cas, as always, just shakes his head and places a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Now be careful.” He adds sternly, backing up so Dean could finish cutting the apples.

“What can I do next?” Jack asks, setting the peeler on the counter.

“Get the sugar and these spices.” Dean instructs showing Jack the recipe on his phone. With that Jack disappears into the pantry on a quest to find all the things Dean needs.

“It’s your fault you know, that I cut myself. You’re too sexy for your own good.” Dean says softly, winking at Cas once they were alone.

“I don’t mean to be.” Cas blushes, licking his lips as he watches Dean put the apples into a bowl.

“See that’s the problem, right there.” Dean is tracking Cas’ tongue, then his lips, he crowds him against the counter and kisses him deeply, pulling him closer by his tie.

“Oh, is this adult time, should I go?” Jack gasps when he comes back to the kitchen with the sugar and spices.

“What, uh, hmm. Oh, no.” Dean fumbles as he comes back to reality, moving away from Cas.

“Sorry Jack, Dean has poor manners.” Cas chuckles fondly, shaking his head at Dean.

“I don’t mind. I’m just happy that you’re happy.” Jack says honestly, earning a smile from Cas that melts Dean’s heart. It is moments like these when he realizes how incredibly lucky he is to not only be alive, but to have such a loving family.

“Okay, here, you add the sugar and spices to the apples.” Dean offers, wanting to let Jack help some more.

“On it!” Jack nods, lifting the sugar sack, about to pour the whole thing into the bowl of apples.

“No, Jack. Use the measuring cup. Two of these.” Dean laughs, handing Jack a stainless steel one cup.

“Oh! You need to be more specific. I’ve never made pie.” Jack says with a roll of his eyes.

“You angels, so literal.” Dean groans, Cas placing a hand on his chest in mock offense.

“You humans, so cryptic.” Cas mocks, Jack giggling and giving him a high five.

“Whatever, I knew what I meant.” Dean shrugs, handing Jack the spices one by one along with the measuring spoons.

“That’s the problem Dean, you think everyone thinks like you do. In my eons of experience, no one thinks like you.” Cas jabs, picking up a hand towel and gently swatting Dean with it.

“Thank you!” Dean beams.

“Wasn’t a compliment.” Cas corrects, flinging the towel over his shoulder.

“Oh well. Good thing I love you.” Dean says it so casually these days, it wasn’t always like this, it used to be an incredible feat for him to discuss any of his feelings let alone tell Cas he loves him in front of anyone. Cas knows this, and every time Dean says it, he lights up.

“Can you stop flirting and help me. What’s next?” Jack asks impatiently, making Cas laugh.

“Stir everything up, here, with this you animal.” Dean snorts, handing Jack a wooden spoon when he almost digs his hands into the bowl.

Once the filling is mixed, Dean helps Jack carefully add it to the crust. They work together to put a lattice work crust on the top, it’s lopsided, but they conclude that neither Sam nor Eileen would care when they gave it to them.

As the pie bakes the trio watch Harry Potter and the Sorcer’s Stone for the 3rd time this week. Sam has lent Jack all of the Harry Potter movies to educate him further on nerdom. They’ve yet to make it past the first one, since Jack concludes it’s the best movie ever, then begs to watch it over and over.

When the pie is ready they load it into the Impala along with the massive pile of gifts Cas has insisted on buying. All of it for Sam and Eileen’s baby to be.

“Babies need lots of things you know. Some of this, I bought it for Jack but never got to use it, obviously.” He explains as they struggle to close the door and squeeze Jack into the back seat.

It’s all worth it when they see Sam’s face as they bring the massive amount of gifts into the little cottage of house he and Eileen live in. Out back, where the party is set up, a baby shower. There's cupcakes and balloons, it's all so precious, it's rare they get quiet moments like this. Moments to celebrate and do normal family things. Eileen gives Jack the biggest hug when she sees him arrive with the pie, her bump making it difficult for them to get close.

“How did you know?” She signs.

“Sam told us you were craving apples.” Dean says proudly. It’s a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, the blue almost rivaling Cas’ eyes.

Almost.