#hopefully the next chapter is a bit less trouble

[determunition]

OLD_FOLKS HOME chapter 25 is up on ao3! in this one the quarter finals continue in the grandkid deathmatch with Grimora v Trader! or, perhaps...Grimora v Trapper?

their match will decide the semi-final, which may not be the match-up you'd expect...in more ways than one!

this one's a big long boi, with a lot of little side convos and character developments; hope you guys enjoy the penultimate chapter to this tournament arc!

[got-the-cheese-touch]

More Than a Name - chapter one

Harry Potter x Sirius Black's Daughter!Reader

slowburn harry potter x reader

summary: The father you never knew but always feel makes his presence known. (indirectly)

a/n: chapter one. AAAAH i'm nervous. it's not as long as i would've liked but i didn't wanna drag it out for too long. (please reblog and like and leave a little comment! they make my day) no use of y/n

trigger warnings: nothing really except maybe poor grammar. lmk if there is something I missed. (reader does use she/her pronouns)

ty to @thecutestgrotto for the dividers <3

The Hogwarts Express rolled down the tracks with a satisfying chug, a low hum filling the silence of the train compartment. Next to you lay Remus, sleeping under his trenchcoat. His peaceful form was in stark contrast to your own. You buzzed with excitement. Your third year at Hogwarts. Hopefully, it would be less eventful than the other years (mostly for Remus’s sake. You were sure that if he received another owl telling him that you fought the Dark Lord once more he’d get a heart attack). 

When you learned that Remus was going to be teaching Defense against the Dark Arts you were relieved. Nothing could hurt you when Moony was around, of that you were sure. If Voldemort even tried to touch you or Harry, Remus could stop him. Your Remus could do anything. 

“Seriously, how is he still asleep?” you thought as you watched his chest rise and fall peacefully. Although, you supposed it was good that he was getting some rest. Recently, he was on edge. He’d pace around, reading the newspaper and shaking his head. He closed the papers and tossed it into the fireplace before you could see what exactly was on the headline; only catching a glimpse of a crazed smile as the page burned down. You had asked what it was and he simply gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“Oh, it’s nothing, mate.” He’d say, giving you a smile that’s too tense to be real. He picked up other odd habits too- cracking his knuckles, smoking a bit more than usual. One morning, you came out of your room to find him asleep on a chair outside of your door. He slept there all night, keeping watch. 

What he was protecting you from- you had no idea. 

But the strangest behavior of all happened one morning when you two were out for a walk. Remus needed to pick up his Wolfsbane and was hesitant to leave you alone at home. He also insisted on holding your hand the entire walk there which you didn’t mind, of course, but his grip would tighten at any startling noise. As you walked past a cafe you smiled and pointed.

“Look, it’s a dog!” You smiled and laughed at the sight- the dog looked out of place in the cute cafe. Remus’s head immediately turned and he stepped in front of you, protective. Remus’s eyes searched frantically for the animal like it was about to pounce on the two of you. 

His shoulders visibly relaxed when he realized that you were pointing to a small fluffy dog resting inside its owner’s purse. He exhaled shakily and tugged you along, walking a bit quicker than before and muttering something under his breath.

You figured that Remus’s new job would be good for him. He’d be closer to you, he’d be closer to help for his lycanthropy, and he’d be away from whatever news headlines were troubling him so much. 

In your daydreams you almost missed the three familiar figures walking past your train compartment: Hermione, Harry, and Ron. You slide open the door, creeping out quietly so as to not wake Remus. A whole summer without seeing your friends was torture. Harry was your first friend at Hogwarts- you liked that he was just as new to everything as you; he liked that you had tons of stories about his parents. Hermione had intimidated you at first. With her quick wit and effortless smarts. Those feelings quickly dissipated after she stood up for you when a group of Ravenclaws stole one of your letters to home. Your cheeks burned when they mocked your letter to Remus but seeing their hair immediately grow down to their feet thanks to a hex from the young witch cheered you up. 

 Once you stepped into the train’s hall you called out to your friends with a smile.

“Hey guys,” You call out to them “I’ve got a compartment. Be quiet, though. My dad’s sleeping.” You smiled at the sight of their surprised faces. Hermione ran to you with an excited call of your name, crashing into you with a tight hug.

“Oh, I missed you this summer! I would’ve written so much more but I was just so busy reading. I’ve been trying to get ahead. I mean, with the schedule I have for this year I’m gonna be in two places at once.” You shook your head with a smile. Of course she was studying over the summer. She was the biggest overachiever you knew. 

You were pulled from your embrace with her when Ron bumped her out of the way.

“You’d think she’s been gone from war, Hermione. Can you not strangle her before we get the chance to say hello?” You smile and let out a laugh, amused at the bickering. You brought him in for a friendly hug and you patted his back. Ron was a good guy. You wouldn’t say he’s your best friend but the shared trauma of exploding monster chess pieces has a way of bringing people together. “I see you haven’t taken off this jacket of yours.” He says, tugging on the sleeve of your- well, Sirius’s- leather jacket.

“And I see you’ve gotten some more freckles.” You tease back with a smirk. He pushes you off with a groan and a poorly concealed smile. 

“Merlin, not even two minutes into the year and I’m sick of you.” He snickers and steps into the compartment, training behind Hermione. You finally turn your gaze to Harry and two things quickly come to mind. The first is that he’s gotten tall. The second is that you hadn’t even noticed how much you really missed him until this moment. 

He wore a simple t-shirt and jeans, his wand tucked into his pocket. He wore the same wire framed glasses over the same pretty green eyes. 

“Okay, easy. It’s just Harry for Merlin’s sake. Not Gilderoy Lockhart.” You thought as you stepped up to him with a grin. He quickly pulled you into a hug and took a deep breath. 

Harry’s summer sucked (naturally). Staying with the Dursleys was torture. Not only did it mean that he was away from school. The months spent in that cupboard was a prison sentence. His warden? Vernon Dursley. 

That meant that he couldn’t take visits to see his friends, he couldn’t study for the upcoming year. He couldn’t even write letters either. 

But whatever troubles he had developed over the summer, he had quickly forgotten after seeing your smirk. 

“Missed you loads.” He says, his shoulders relaxing. You smiled. You didn’t need to say you missed him; you were sure he could tell. He had a weird way of reading your mind. You wondered if it was the same way with James and Sirius.

Harry was a friend that you could tell anything to. He’d been with you through thick and thin and you could say that he was, without a doubt, your best friend. He’s a partner in crime, a confidant, someone to lean on. 

It would be natural to wonder how you two could get along so well. It may seem shocking that the fact that your father is accused of brutally murdering his parents isn’t a setback in your relationship. Perhaps it would be an issue if Harry knew that unfortunate detail about your life’s history.

To save you from ridicule, Dumbledore and Remus both decided it would be best to enroll you in Hogwarts under Remus’s name. As far as anyone was concerned, you were a Lupin. You didn’t mind. It’s not like you knew your real dad. Remus was your father in every sense of the word other than blood. 

But Harry would probably mind. Did it make you a bad person not to tell him? Maybe.

But have you felt guilty about this every time he asks you to tell him some of Remus’s stories about The Marauders? Absolutely. 

You shove these thoughts to the back of your mind as you release him from the hug with a smile.

“Sap.” You say before climbing into the compartment. 

You slide in next to Remus who is still, somehow, sleeping over the noise of Hermionie and Ron’s arguing. You quiet them with a look and a nod towards Remus’s figure, covered in his coat. Hermione turns to you, her expression suddenly serious. 

“Have you been reading the papers?” She asks, her tone anxious. You shake your head. 

Remus had been hoarding the Daily Prophet for some reason. He hadn’t let you read the papers in ages. Another one of his odd habits recently. 

“I get them sent by owls. You ought to start staying up to date on this kind of thing. Especially considering the relevance it has.” Hermione huffs. She quickly pulls a folded up newspaper from her bag and holds it out to you. “We need to be concerned for Harry.”

You’re about to quip “When do we not?” until you flip over the pages to see the headline and your blood runs cold. 

His name. Your father’s name printed clearly on the front page. 

You stared down at his photo, the image moving as he snarled and thrashed at the camera. He looked angry and tired and sick and evil. His eyes were filled with intensity that made the hair on your arms stick up. 

It was like looking in a mirror. A sick and twisted mirror, sure, but still. The resemblance was uncanny. His eyes, his smile, his nose. Down to the sharpness of his canines. Thank Merlin that your friends were too occupied in the situation that they didn’t notice your state or your resemblance to the man. 

In your shock, you only catch the tail end of their conversation. 

“...The man’s a murderous, raving lunatic.” Ron deadpans. His sarcasm isn’t able to hide the pure worry he has for Harry. A strange part of you feels protective. He is your dad. You don’t feel the need to cut in with his defense: the fact that he hadn’t had a motivation or even a trial. Remus didn’t hate Sirius and neither did you. None of this would be helpful to point out. You look up from the photo at Harry. 

“It’ll be okay. Dumbledore won’t let anyone get to you, yeah?” You say, trying to be reassuring. You’re not sure if it’s for Harry or for yourself. Before anyone can cut in with their worries, the train screeches to a sudden halt. 

Rain pelts against the window as the Hogwarts Express jostles. You look at Remus who is miraculously still sleeping. 

“Why are we stopping?” You hear Hermione question. You shake your head, about to express your confusion before the lights of the train shut off. The newspaper in your lap is forgotten as you stand up to investigate. Before you can get to the door though, a lurch of the train sends you back to your seat. “Bloody hell” Ron gasps and you turn your head. The window has frosted up and you watch in confusion as the bottle of water on the floor freezes up. Your grip tightens on Sirius’s leather jacket, hugging the warm leather closer against you. 

A shadowy figure approaches from outside the compartment. It was ghostly and its presence filled you with dread. Suddenly you were four years old back in evil foster homes. You could only stare in fear and silence as it opened the door to your compartment. 

“Get Remus, Wake him up.” Your mind shouted as the creature stared at all of you. You felt like it saw right into your soul. You sat frozen.

The ghost looked towards Harry and you gasped as it drew close to him and inhaled deeply. Like he was sucking out Harry’s soul. 

When you finally found your voice, you turned to Remus’s sleeping figure helplessly and you shook him awake. 

“Dad, please wake up! Moony help!” You said to him as Harry slipped out of consciousness, his weight slipping onto you as the shadowy figure continued its assault. 

Remus quickly jolted awake at the sound of you and stood up with his wand. A burst of light filled the compartment, driving away the creature. Once it had fled, Harry slumped down. Remus sees the copy of the newspaper on the floor and he picks it up quickly, folding up Sirius’s angry stare and tucking it into his back pocket. Remus looked at you before he even noticed Harry’s state.

He starts rambling. His hands fly to the sides of your face, holding you worriedly. “Oh, mate, I’m sorry, are you okay. Merlin- Fuck, I’ll explain it all later. I should’ve told you. I had no clue the dementors would even be here. Dumbledore assured me that they’d be far away. Oh, Lovely- if it got its hands on you it would’ve-” 

“Dad.” You cut him off, “Harry.” You nod towards the boy who’s passed out. Hermionie and Ron simply stare helplessly.

“Oh! Yes, yes.” Remus mutters, moving to check on Harry now that he’s realized that you are okay.

“Not even at school yet and we’ve already gotten into some kind of trouble.” Ron mutters. He is quickly silenced by a swift kick to the shins, given by Hermionie. 

Minutes feel like hours as you wait for Harry to wake up. When he does stir, he sits up and looks around, confused. Remus pulls a bar of chocolate from his cloak pocket. 

“Here. Eat.” Remus murmurs comfortingly. Harry takes it, his expression unsure. He looks at me and I give him a reassuring nod. “It’s alright. It’s chocolate.” Remus says, encouraging Harry to eat. 

“What- what was that?” Harry asks shakily, adjusting his glasses. 

“A dementor. One of the guards of Azkaban.” Remus sits back in his chair. His gaze is heavy as he stares at Harry. “He’s gone now. He’s looking for the traitor Sirius Black.” Your friends don’t catch the way Remus’s jaw ticks and his shoulders tense at the name. They don’t notice how Remus’s eyes flick to yours for a moment or how you avert your gaze. They don’t notice the sadness in Remus’s eyes remembering his companion as though he was a murderer. You do. You notice everything about Remus. 

He stands and sets the rest of the chocolate bar in Harry’s lap before kissing you on top of your head. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” he starts as he opens the compartment door “I need to have a word with the driver.” He takes one more glance at all of you, his gaze landing on Harry. “Eat. You’ll feel better.” With that, he slips out and the door shuts with a click, leaving the four of you in silence. 

So much for an uneventful school year.

After the dust had settled and everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself in Dumbledore’s office, standing stuck to the floor next to Professor McGonagall. Her arms are crossed and her eyes are filled with concern as she talks with Dumbledore. Across the room, Remus is pacing back and forth, dragging his hands through his hair. The whole display didn't feel real. Maybe it wasn’t.

You were dreaming. A nightmare. Soon you’d wake up at home, tucked safely in your bed. Harry wasn’t attacked by a dementor. Your dad hadn’t escaped jail. 

You shivered at the thought. 

You knew he wouldn't hurt you. You were sure of that. But all those years locked away for wrongful imprisonment would probably make a guy want to settle some grudges. 

You were numb. Remus was livid. 

“What happens if they realize that she’s his daughter? Huh? Those dementors won’t think twice about killing her. They’ll sense his blood and give her the kiss before she can even pull out her wand.” Remus said angrily. He was smoking a cigarette. In fact, he was almost through a pack. 

Severus Snape stares at him coldly from across the room. Logically, you knew that Snape was trustworthy. Dumbledore wouldn’t be so loyal to him if he was truly evil. But there was something deep within you that told you Snape was no good. The way he walks, the tone of his voice, the condescending way he stares at you sends your blood boiling. Apparently he had a big feud with The Marauders when they were young. Even if it wasn’t in your DNA to hate Snape, you still would loathe the man for how he treated others. He looked away when muggle-borns were being bullied. He praised Draco malfoy, the prince prick of all pricks. Snape never passed up the chance to take points from houses other than Slytherin and he’s rumoured to be a death eater. 

Nothing is worse, though, than how he treats Moony. 

Your Moony. The one who makes you toast and dries your tears. The one who saved you, who took you in. Somehow Snape is able to bully your kind hearted, gentle, loving Remus. In the time that they’ve been in the same room, Snape has already mocked Remus’s lycanthropy, made snide comments about your upbringing (as if the fact that Remus wasn’t rich made your life with him any less happy), and he went so far as to insinuate that Remus was a traitor due to his loyalty to Sirius. 

Severus Snape was a dick. 

 “The dementors are instructed to stay far away, in the unlikely case that it becomes an issue-” Says Snape, his voice nasally and irritating. 

“Unlikely? A dementor has already attacked a student. Harry could’ve been seriously injured. Or worse!” Remus takes a deep inhale of the cigarette. He moves to stand at your side. “Call them off, Professor. Call them off or we’re leaving.” He looks to Dumbledore, his brow set in a determined stare, stubbornly making a point. Dumbledore sighs and shakes his head patiently.

“Remus, we just can’t do that. It’s standard protocol.” You hear Remus huff next to you, agitated. Dumbledore continues “I will speak to Harry about the encounter and I’ll talk to the ministry about the ordeal but we won’t call off the dementors. I’m truly sorry but there is nothing I can do.” He looks genuine. You give him a small smile and he gives you one back, a glint in his eye as he leaves. Snape trails after him next, giving Remus a snide look. 

Professor McGonagall remains with the two of you, turning towards the still fuming Remus. 

“Minnie, I mean what I said. I will leave and she’s coming with me. I promised that I’d keep her safe and I will not let her stay so close to those fucking things.” Remus starts pacing again, muttering angrily as Professor McGonagall tries to calm him down.

“Remus, listen to me, leaving will do nothing but harm. What happens if people think you are in cahoots with Black? Here, Albus will protect you both. Who will protect you if you are at home?” Her voice is sharp but not unkind. She looks at him with a motherly sort of fierceness. 

“If anyone tries anything, I’ll be the one in Azkaban.” Remus says, lighting another cigarette. 

As the two of them bicker back and forth, your gaze drifts to the window. The moon is bright and clear, almost full. That was probably another reason for Remus’s mood. He always got territorial and antsy when the full moon was closer. When you first moved in with him, the full moon nearing meant he would get distant. He was so scared that he would hurt you somehow. Once he became more sure of his place in your life, his pre-moon behavior changed. He would become fiercely protective. You supposed it was the natural instinct to protect enhanced by the wolf. 

Once McGonagall is able to calm Remus down (and confiscate his cigarettes) she sends the two of you out, ordering you back to the dorms and Remus to the professor’s quarters. It was funny seeing her scold him, it was like he was a teen again. He might be much taller than the old woman, but she still put him in his place quickly. 

“She should know better than that. I obviously have more packs than that.” Remus says, trying to lighten the mood as he walks you back to the Gryffindor common room. You simply stare ahead angrily. He looks at you and taps you on the head. “Lovely, don’t be mad. C’mon I don’t smoke that much.” No response. Remus sighs. “I want to keep you safe, kid. I can’t let anything happen to you. Seriously.” You stop and look up at him, upset.

“Sirius Black is out of Azkaban and you didn’t think to tell me? You didn’t think I needed to know?” You spit out. Remus recoils at the anger in your voice. “I’m not six anymore. You should have told me.”

“I should have.” Remus nods, stopping in his tracks. “You’re right about that. But when I found out, the only thing I could think to do is protect you, mate. I will always defend Sirius. You know that.” His voice is unsteady as she stares at you. “But Azkaban changes people. Who knows what he’s like now.” You look down, unable to hold his gaze any longer. He pulls you into him, hugging you. “And I didn’t even think. I just needed you safe, mate.”

When you arrived at the common room safely, Remus took a glance around before giving you a kiss goodnight. Harry, Hermionie, and Ron were sitting on the couch by the fire, talking quietly. Their conversation stops when they notice you. Remus gives them all a smile and a nod.

“Goodnight Ron, Hermione. Goodnight Harry.” He says before turning and leaving. When you face the group again, they’re all pulling you down to sit.

“What was that about? Where were you?” Asks Hermione, her head tilted curiously. What were you supposed to say?

“Me? Oh, just preparing for the oncoming dementor attack I’ll get because of the fact that my dad escaped from prison. Yeah, my dad is Sirius Black, sorry I’ve been lying to you all about that. And sorry about your mum and dad Harry.” 

You figured that that wouldn’t go over well so instead you give Hermionie the most convincing smile you can muster. 

“Just helping my dad settle in, no need to worry.” That seemed to have calmed her and she continues talking to Ron about the classes she’s enrolled in this year. You feel Harry’s unwavering gaze on your profile. You turn to look at him. “What?” You ask, hoping he doesn’t see right through you.

“That’s your dad, huh?” He says nodding towards the portrait hole Remus had just left. You swallow thickly and nod. “You look nothing alike.” You blink, unsure of what to say to that so you simply shrug. 

Leaning back against the couch, something catches your eye. It’s small enough to be overlooked but you caught the little carving written into the side of the side table: 

“Sirius was here” 

As your friends chatted away about the upcoming year, you stared at the little carving. A small act of teenage rebellion, nothing meaningful. It stuck with you though. Sirius was here. 

Sirius was everywhere.

He’s Remus’s sigh after a laugh, he’s the frustration in professors’ voices when they correct you, he’s the stubborn furrow in your brow that forms when you’re being defiant. He is there when you’re upset at the world. He’s there when you look at photos, or listen to music. He was there when you snuck one of Remus’s cigarettes one night over the summer. He’s in the common room- his name written on random surfaces or Prophet headlines. 

He’s inescapable. He follows you around wherever you go, whether you like it or not. 

 He’s the mangy black dog with shaggy fur and wild eyes that’s found a hiding place in the shrieking shack. 

notes: IF IT'S BAD IM SORRY. i'm not exaggerating when i say that i get so nervous posting this. please give me validation y'all i live for it. (some of your comments have me giggling and kicking my feet) also im so sorry that it took so long to post this chapter. i was going through it.

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FAR ILYSM!!!!

taglist, comment to be added <3 : @mmmunson @reesespeesees @starmaniii @deathmybride

(if you reblog, i'll give you my firstborn rumplestiltskin style)

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

"𝑨𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒚" (Aemond x Reader)

A/N: I want to first say. I STRUGGLE with writing dialogue in different periods. So if I make this into a fic it is going to take me so long because I will have to read other people's stories and rewatch the show so the dialogue can be somewhat realistic. Hopefully, I do well...If not. Don't tell me shit. I don't wanna hear it. // Divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: You return with your family to King's Landing to defend Lucerys against your uncle Vaemond but he is not the uncle you worry about. Your mind is filled with the man you were once betrothed to what he will say when he sees you, and how he will act. You worry about how your Uncle Aemond will treat you after all this time.

Next Chapter →

Tw: Oral Sex (f receiving)

Word Count: 5.4k (an absolute fucking monstrosity written in a couple hours)

"Would say it's nice to be home but I scarcely recognize it." Daemon hums slightly before walking around looking at every bit of the wall in disgust. Rhaenyra turns to you and your brothers. "I trust you three will stay out of trouble while we go visit your grandsire?"

Your brothers nod their heads as you all take your turn to look over what was once your home. It feels...darker than it did when you lived here, almost abandoned. If it was not for the servants walking around you would think it was.

Rhaenyra and Daemon walk away leaving you and your brothers.

"Come on. I want to see if that hole is still in the wall in the training yard." Luke rolls his eyes at the stupid memory which makes you smile. You follow after them as they try to recall the way there.

You don't listen to their conversation as Jace points out the hole that still remains. You can barely pay attention to anything anyone is saying. Your brain has been in panic mode since the moment you were told you would be returning here.

Scared to face your previous betrothed. You feel someone's hands wrap around yours and snap you out of your thoughts.

"Are you alright?" Luke says softly and looks at you worriedly. You nod and ruffle his hair with a smile.

"Im fine. Just...feels weird being back." He doesn't let go of your hand. You notice as he looks around at all the people staring at him and Jace. It had always been like this, people often compared you to your brothers in how different you looked. How you carried Targaryen features while they resembled Harwin Strong.

Unknown to you or your brothers at the time Rhaenyra and Laenor did truly try to conceive at least one trueborn child. But in the end, it was all too uncomfortable for them. It was only on their second try did they attempt it in another way. Laenor at first stayed in the room alone getting himself just before his peak so that when Rhaenyra came in all he had to do was empty himself inside of her. That one time resulted in you. The only child related to Laenor in both blood and name.

Jace comes and pulls Luke away to watch a fight you couldn't care less about. You walked around the yard looking at the various weapons laid out. You knew that you could fight far better than most of the men here, having been trained by Daemon himself.

Bored by the dusty swords and daggers you turn to watch the fight from the other side. Your heart dropped into your ass as you see the man before you.

He was tall...you always thought he would be. His hair sadly no longer carried those curls that once coiled around your fingers as he read to you. An eyepatch sat over his eye breaking your heart as you recalled the night.

"Get off of him!" "Stop it, Jace!" "Don't hurt him!"

You clamped your eyes closed wanting to fight off the painful memory. You were weak then, unable to help. You couldn't protect him in any way that mattered.

The claps of everyone around you had you opening your eyes once more. You watched as Aemond bested Criston in a duel.

"Well done, my prince, You'll be winning tourneys in no time."

"I don't give a shit about tourneys. Nephews...have you come to train?" You see the look on Luke's face and you feel bad for him. He and Jace had spent most of their time trying to learn High Valyrian and barely picked up a sword unless forced to. Aemond had clearly spent all his time training since the accident.

"Open the gates!" Everyone turns to watch as the guards open the gates and men carrying the banners of Velaryon walk in. You walk over to your brothers and hold onto Luke's hands as Vaemond passes by staring Luke down. Vamond's expression only softens as he looks at you and he offers you a warm smile.

The same smile he had given you at Laena's funeral as he took the opportunity to call your brother's bastards in such a sad time. You hear Luke audibly gulp and you try to soothe him by running your fingers over his knuckles.

"Let's go inside." You place a hand on Jace's back to calm him down as you notice the look of anger on his face at the sight of Vaemond.

As you turn to enter the Red Keep your eyes automatically land on Aemond who now wears an expression you can't quite place. His eyes are only on you and for a moment it feels like there's only you two but Jace is quick to step in front of your view and to give Aemond a look you can't see. Whatever it is has him turning around in anger and returning to sparring with Criston.

You walk with Rhaenyra and Rhaena towards Rhaenys.

"Grandmother" Rhaena calls out and basically runs over to her. You follow behind her.

"Rhaena..." Rhaena stands before her as Rhaenys holds her hand. You step beside her and Rhaenys looks over to you. She steps forward and places a hand on your cheek. "You two have grown beautifully." She kisses both of your cheeks.

"Baela said you might be here." Your mother comes closer, each step wary. "She's done well as your ward. You've um... raised her admirably." Rhaenys doesn't look over and keeps her eyes trained on both you and Rhaena.

"You honour me, Princess." Rhaenys smiles softly at Rhaenyra.

"Might I speak to the Princess alone, girls?" Rhaena looks to your grandmother almost for permission. She nods and lets go of both of you.

"Princess." Rhaena begins to walk away. You give your grandmother another kiss on the cheek before leaving.

Rhaenyra smiles at you as you walk away to join Rhaena.

"What do you think they're talking about?" You both look back once more before heading inside.

"I have no idea." You look at your mother who steps closer to your grandmother. Rhaene takes your arm and you turn to her. "Come. Let us go find the boys."

That night it rained and the sound of thunder filled your old chambers. His face filled your memories. His voice echoed in your ears.

"Can I kiss you Aemond?" Your fingertips ran over the dip of his lips as you imagined what they would feel like on yours."You never have to ask Princess."

You touch your lips at the memory of your first kiss. The only kiss you ever got to share with him. How soft his kiss was, how gentle he was. Your lips yearned for another kiss. Your body begs for his warmth and your heart breaks. It breaks at the memory of when your betrothal was cancelled when you knew the future you both talked about would never happen.

"How many children will we have?" Your head lay in his lap as he read a book, his fingers twirling your hair as you pick the petals of a flower. "As many as you are willing to bear me, Princess." You blush brightly which only brings a smile to his face. But your brain always knows how to ruin the moment as a new thought plagues your mind."Would you be angry at me if I had a girl first?" Aemond closes his book and looks down at you. "I could never be angry at you."

You sat up in your bed to the sound of a knock at the door. Your hands roughly smooth over your head pushing your hair back as if it wipes away the memories and dreams.

How can one live like this? How can one continue on in life like this? He is in every breath you take, every time you close your eyes his face decorates the darkness that you simply wish would consume you. You are reminded of him in every waking moment of your life.

Another knock comes to your chamber doors and you know you have no choice but to start your day. You sweat at the thought of seeing him again.

Will he keep to his words? Will he not be angry with you for being gone for so long? For not sending any letters? You did not want to find out. In truth you just want to stay in your chambers all day and sleep, but for the sake of Luke you would attend the hearing.

"The crown will now hear the petitions." Otto sits on the throne as his voice echoes throughout the hall. "Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."

Vaemond steps forward as everyone looks towards him. Everyone but Aemond. You can see him in the corner of your eye his gaze is focused on you. Never looking away, never taking a break.

You stand next to Daemon looking forward. Knowing that if you even willed your eyes to move it would land on him. And you couldn't bear to look at him.

"My Queen. My Lord Hand." Vaemond then goes on to talk about the history and the days of Old Valyria. You can't hear him, you can't hear anything once more over the beating of your heart.

"Iksis bisa iā qogror iā elekor?" [Is this a class or a hearing?] Daemon whispers to you. He notices your rigid stance and how you're taking in shallow breaths. He places a hand on your elbow and you look over to him. He gives you a look of "Are you ok?" to which you nod.

He returns back to staring Vaemond down hoping he will eventually burn holes into the side of his head and will fall dead where he stands but not everyone is that lucky. It is only then that he notices a one-eye fucker staring in his direction. He shifts his gaze and notices Aemond staring at you. Aemond can feel someone looking at him and looking towards Daemon before pressing his lips in a thin line and giving Vaemond his attention.

"As it does in my sons and daughter, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon." You are snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of your mother's voice. You look over to her. "If you cared so much about your house's blood Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful hair." Vaemond holds a look of anger towards her. "No, you only speak for yourself. and for your own ambition."

"You will have a chance to make your own petition Princess Rhaenyra." You look towards Alicent. "Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard." Next to her, you see the smirks of both Aegon and Aemond. You know they enjoy this, seeing Luke be openly called a bastard.

Why are your brothers blamed and dragged through the mud for what your mother has done? Are they not innocent in their own conceivement?

Vaemond gives Alicent a slight nod before turning towards your family.

"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?" He speaks to your mother in a condescending tone. "I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn't recognize it."

Your heart twinges for your mother. You feel conflicted all the time. On one hand, your brothers are indeed not blood-related to your father. But he had accepted them as his sons publicly no doubt. What could he have done for people to recognize them as his children? On the other hand, Vaemond proves a point in matters of blood. But is it not the last names people remember?

They both ride dragons, and they learn the tongue of the dragon. They are everything Targaryen but in matters of looks and blood. But that is more than enough for people to shun them. You want to side with them with your full heart, but how can you when you understand the opposition's points?

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

You look up in awe as you watch your grandsire slowly walk into the room. The only sound was the tapping of his cane against the floor. You had not seen him in so long, he looked so old and different. Hunched over and in pain.

You watch as he makes his way up to the throne and Daemon aids him. Otto moves over to stand next to Alicent and you can see the confusion and anger on his face. His plans are ruined and whatever chance he had at getting the Velaryons on their side is squandered.

"I must...admit...my confusion." Your grandsire breathes quickly as he tries to regain his strength. "I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession." You listen as he calls for your grandmother to speak.

You feel hot. This room feels hot. You pull repeatedly at the band on your wrist. A coping mechanism you developed when you felt so far away from everything. You snap the band against your wrist as you listen to your grandmother who only further pushes for Corly's wishes for Lucerys to be the next Lord of the Tides. You miss her announcing the marriage between your brothers and cousins.

You can't focus. He is still staring at you. You make the mistake of closing your eyes cause when you open them they are on him. You take in a sharp breath and stare back at him. Your heart feels as though someone is squeezing it, your chest heavy as if a dragon sits atop it. You want nothing more than to go over there but you keep your feet planted.

"That is no true Velaryon." You jump slightly looking towards your uncle as he angrily points at Luke. "and certainly no nephew of mine." Your mother tells your brothers to head to their chambers before attempting to silence Vaemond.

"You can not all be blind surely? To look upon both my grandniece and her sons and think they share the same father?" Everyone looks at you and for a moment you wish you could shrink into the walls, fade into the people behind you. "She even skips her daughter so that her son could inherit Driftmark when it belongs to my niece. She wishes to cover her tracks and erase my niece's future." You've never felt that way. You were never upset at your mother's decisions. Maybe you always assumed you'd end up with Aemond. "Gods be damned...I will not see it ended on the account of this-" Your eyes widen as you realize what he wishes to say.

You feel a heat radiate beside you and notice the body language of Daemon has changed. A hand rests on his sword as his head is cocked to the side.

"Say it." He whispers softly. Vaemond gives Daemon a smug look.

"Her sons...are BASTARDS! And she...is...a whore." Everyone gasps and you notice the heat beside you is missing. You watch as King Viserys unsheaths his dagger and calls for your uncle's tongue.

You then hear a thud and turn and see Vaemond's body hit the floor. His head was cut off at the mouth, his tongue still attached. Much happens in those moments but your eyes stay on Vaemond's body. It is only when your mother places a hand on your cheek you look away.

"Go with your grandmother. She might need comfort."

You stand next to Rhaenys, holding her hand as the silent sisters work on your uncle.

"Did you ever feel that way, little ocean?" You look over to her as her eyes are trained upon his seperated head. "As if your mother was trying to erase you?"

"No, grandmother. To be honest. I had always imagined myself living here, in the Red Keep." You looked around the room watching the sisters move slowly and carefully.

"Married to Aemond." Your quick to look back towards her she offers you a faint smile before turning to you. "Come back with me, to Driftmark. Your grandsire would love to see you and I have missed your presence." You nod, not caring to say that you should ask the permission of your mother and father.

The Grand Maester walks over and speaks. You stare at the body of your uncle once more. Is this justice? He called your mother a whore and your brother bastards...but was he wrong?

"The Stranger has visited me more times than I can count, Grand Maester." You feel her squeeze your hand. "I assure you, he cares little whether my eyes are open or closed." You watch as he leaves. "You should go, little ocean. Your grandsire wishes for you to eat with your family."

"Will you not dine with us?" You brush your fingers against her hand.

"I fear I have lost my appetite." She kisses your head. "We will take our leave on the morrow." You nod before leaving the room with a final look towards your uncle.

As you enter the dining hall your family is already there. The table already has its sides. On the right sit your mother and your family and on the left sit the Queen and hers. The separation hurts you and you wish you could do something about it. Mend it in whatever way possible. You would give your own life if it meant uniting your family.

Jacerys offers his seat so you can sit next to Baela and he moves to her other side. The switch puts you next to Aegon but you do not mind. He has never been one to bother you before, and only ever makes small jokes, which you would never admit to his face, can be funny.

"Mother?" Rhaenyra turns in her chair towards you.

"Yes, my heart?" She places a hand on your arm you smile at the name. Each one of you had one, Jace was often referred to as her love, Luke as her sweet boy, and you her heart.

"Grandmother has requested I return with her to Driftmark... I'd like to. To see grandsire, if that is all right with you." She smiles softly and brings your hand to her lips as she kisses it.

"Of course." You hear the doors open and see your grandsire being carried in. "We will talk more later. Go sit." You walk over to your chair and stand until he is placed in his spot.

As you walk over you look up and see his eyes on you once more. He stands at the head of the table watching you. You sit only when you notice everyone else does and clasp your hands together when Alicent calls for prayer. You've read about the Seven and know only as much as books taught you. You hear Alicent's prayer but you pray your own. You ask The Warrior and The Smith to give you strength, you beg for forgiveness from The Maiden for your thoughts and acknowledge The Stranger, for you both feel like outcasts in this world.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena." It is only then that you feel the weight of his gaze lift, as he looks at your brother on the other end of the table. Your grandsire calls for a toast to your brothers. He calls for another toast for Lucerys as the future Lord of the Tides.

"I also want to say. How beautifully my granddaughter has grown." You feel the eyes of everyone turn to you, and your mother smiles. Even Alicent gives you a genuine gentle smile. "Im sure by your next nameday we will have found a suitable match for your hand. Let us toast in hopes you will find someone deserving of you." Everyone raises their glass.

But it is only Aemond who does not. You watch as Aegon leans over you towards Baela.

"He does know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?"

"Let it be cousin," Baela responds clearly annoyed. Jace responds but you don't hear it whatever he says has Aegon sitting back down fully in his seat.

You stare forward as King Viserys makes a speech. You return to snapping the band against your wrist as you again feel the heat of his stare. Words are shared between the Queen and your mother before Aegon gets up and sets himself in between Baela and Jace.

"I, um I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask-" Jace bangs his hands on the table before standing up which leads to Aemond standing up as well ready to protect his brother if need be.

Aegon sits down quickly next to you. More speeches go on, too many speeches. You wish everyone would just shut up so we can all be done with this dinner. Either that or let us remove our masks and speak the truth. You have grown tired of this tension and fake genuineness.

You remain next to Aegon as food is brought out and Jace takes Helaena to dance. You can see the look on his face. He looks over your family with a sort of longing. Everything he has ever wanted on display in front of him.

"Would you care to dance uncle?" He looks over to you with a surprised look on his face. He puts down his cup and is about to put out his hand when someone clears their throat. You look over to the noise and see Aemond staring at the two of you.

"Not if I wish to lose my head." He picks his cup back up and returns to watching everyone. You look over to Aemond who only stares at you with no emotion.

You watch as guards walk over to your grandsire and take him away. You make a plan in your head to go visit him tonight to speak to him.

The mood is only spoiled as a pig is placed in front of Aemond. You hear the light chuckles of Luke and curse him in your head. You flinch as Aemond's hand bangs the table and he stands up picking up his cup.

"Final tribute. To the health of my nephews: Jace...Luke...and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise..." And in that pause alone you feel that separation between families grow. "...strong. Come...let us drain our cups to these three strong boys."

"I dare you say that again." You tense as Jace speaks already being able to tell where this is going.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment." Aemond lowers his cups and walks over to Jace. "Do you not think yourself strong?" Jace punches Aemond...or...attempts to. Aemond still stands unwavering and not a drop spilt from his cup.

Aegon grabs Luke who tries to walk over to help Jace and slams his head on the table. You stand up and walk over to Aegon and pull his hair, yanking his head back. He releases Luke and only smiles up at you. You put him in the same position he had your brother in, slamming his head against the table and holding him down until guards come and step in between you two.

You remain standing at the chairs as the sides are made once more. You stand somewhat in the middle. Jace attempts to run back over to Aemond but Daemon steps in front of him.

"Go to your quarters. All of you go now." Your siblings and cousins leave but you remain still standing in your spot. You watch as Aemond and Daemon stare at each other silently. Aemond then turns to you and so does everyone else, he looks at you and then hums to himself as he walks out of the room.

"Come little rogue." Daemon puts his arm out for you. You take his arm, your mother pats your cheek and you follow him out of the room.

You sit in your mother and Daemon's chambers caring for young Aegon and Viserys along with a couple of maids.

Your mother walks in and takes a seat next to Daemon.

"I will see the boys home. Then I will return on dragonback." She holds Daemon's hand.

"Just the boys?" He asks looking over at you.

"Grandmother has asked me to return with her and Baela to Driftmark." He nods.

"Head to bed rogue." You nod and stand up walking over to your parents. You kiss your mother's cheek and place a hand on her stomach before walking past Daemon and pulling on the small ponytail in his hair softly and leaving the room.

Daemon watches as you leave with a smirk on his face and waits until the door is closed to speak.

"Did you see the way he looked at her?" Rhaenyra is taken aback by Daemon's tone. He stands up and paces.

"Who, my love?" She rubs her belly as she watches her children play.

"Aemond." He scowls. "He's been looking at her since we arrived as if he wants to take her where she stands. Which is impressive since the fucker only has one eye." he sits back down.

"They were once betrothed Daemon. Before that, they were closer than any of the kids. They spent all their free time together." She smirks at her husbands's protectiveness. It didn't take long for him to see you as one of his own daughters.

"We should discuss her future marriage. Maybe it's time we start looking for a husband for her." Rhaenyra nods.

"We will speak to her about it when she returns from Driftmark. Vaemond was right about one thing...she is being erased...I had not realized I was doing that." Daemon took her hand and placed the other on her bump.

"That fucker didn't know what he was talking about. You are a great mother to her, and she has had no complaints about her inheritance." She knows he's right.

"Nonetheless. If there is one thing I can give her is a choice. She will decide who she marries. I would feel better knowing it's a man of her own choosing."

Your handmaids leave the room once you're finished being dressed for bed. You sit in front of your vanity staring at yourself.

When had you become someone you didn't recognize? When did you begin just walking the earth instead of living on it? When had you become so...lonely.

You walk over to the balcony and step outside. Pulling your robe tighter to your body against the cold air. You close your eyes and though you aren't sure who it is you are speaking to you beg them to help you. To bring you happiness and peace.

"Mandianna" You hear him from behind you. You turn around slowly and see him standing inside your room. You slowly walk in and close the balcony doors behind you, locking them.

"...Aemond..." You move to take another step to him but he raises a hand.

"For as long as I can remember you...Not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of you." You take a deep breath as he speaks. "And now that you're here...I'm in agony." He takes a step towards you. "The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you...I can't breathe." He stops in front of you a hand on your cheek. "I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me. My heart is beating, hoping that that kiss will not become a scar." He lowers his head so he hovers just above your lips. "You are in my very soul, tormenting me...what can I do? I will do anything you ask."

You stare up into his eyes and feel drawn into them. You drown in them putting up no fight. Wanting to feel that darkness that has followed you all these years surround you.

"Kiss me." And he does and it is everything you've imagined. You give him full reign and kisses you with the same intensity that a drowning man comes up for air.

When he finally pulls away he admires your bruised lips and brushes the tears from your eyes.

"Aemond...I have grieved for what we could have been...so much time has passed. And our families have only grown farther apart." He kisses the side of your cheek.

"But what is grief if not love persevering?" He wraps his arms around your waist pulling you right against him as his eyes meet yours. "I have yet to meet another soul who is fluent in my language..but you? You are fluent in me." You place your hands on his chest. "Marry me. In the tradition of our ancestors. Let my blood become yours, and yours mine." You see the hope in his eyes.

"And what of our families?" They would never accept this." You try to pull away but he holds you tight against him.

"I refuse to sacrifice the one person who sees me for who I am for a family who barely sees me for the mask I wear." He leads you towards your bed and sits you down at the edge of it before sitting before you on his knees. "You are mine. You were always meant to be mine."

His hands trail up your legs as a smirk spreads over his face.

"Aemond. We can't." He pushes up your nightgown while kissing his way up your legs.

"I will not spoil you. I will only wish for a preview of what will be mine." He pushes your dress up all the way and pulls down your small clothes. He pulls your legs over his shoulder as he lowers himself in between your thighs.

He wastes no time drinking you up. His tongue tastes whatever he can, his nose brushing against your bud softly. His tongue stiffens inside of you as he finds that place his brother had told him about. It has you lying down covering your mouth.

"Ae-Aemond..." He moans against your cunt in pleasure at your moans of his name. "Please..." you're unsure of what it is you are begging for but whatever it is you know you need it.

He brings a finger to better rub your bud as he fucks you with his tongue. He can feel you clenching and watches as you're soon arching off of the bed holding on to his hair.

The feeling is unlike anything you've experienced. A large opposite from how dark you have been feeling. You feel lighter as if pent-up energy has been released.

He gives your bud one last kiss before walking away and returning with a wet cloth. He wipes his face first before gently cleaning you. When he's done you sit up and he sits next to you pulling you into his lap.

You feel how hard he is below you and move so your legs are wrapped around his torso. You grind down on him and he looks up at you holding on to your hips. The friction against your bud only builds back up that feeling in your stomach. You kiss Aemond as he continues to guide you so you're grinding down on him. He picks up speed his mouth agape.

Without saying anything you reach and pull the eye patch off of him. Aemond stops and looks away hiding his face. You place a hand on his cheek and turn him back to you.

"Gevie." You kiss his scar gently and admire the sapphire that replaces his eye. He returns to grinding you down on him lewd thoughts fuelling his actions. His breaths become louder and you even hear a gentle moan from him.

"Fuck~" you feel him stiffen beneath you. He presses his forehead against your chest pulling you flush against him.

"I will speak to my mother and even my father. If they say no. I will come for you and only then will I fuck you and mark my name into your wet cunt so that they will have no choice but to marry us."

He kisses you again. You taste yourself on his tongue.

"You say that as if the breaking of Princess' maidenheads has not been hidden before. They could easily give me to someone who would not care."

"To that...mandianna. I tell you that idiots are highly flammable...and we ride dragons..." He kisses your exposed chest.

"I say...let them burn."

A/N: This was for the girls who dream of marrying a prince and end up falling for the misunderstood villain.

I have thought of doing another part or turning this into a mini-series at least. But for now, this is just a one-shot.

Shoutout to the Star Wars Anakin monologue that fueled me to write this anyway.

Taglist: @thought--bubble @valeskafics @dixie-elocin

[alkaline-wtr]

WE WILL SURVIVE

- - CHAPTER 6 - -

Ghost x reader Description: Ghost searches for Reader after their argument. Genre/Warnings: zombie apocalypse AU, Ghost x fem!reader, survivor!reader, angst, POV change, filler chapter WC: 1k

My Masterlist

** Oh? What is this you ask? Could it finally be?? a new chapter?! Yes. Yes, it is. Finally, I got Chapter 6 complete! Still iffy about how this one turned out but I NEEDED a Ghost POV chapter so bad. Please forgive my hiatus I actually had a chapter almost done when I came up with this one and I've been working on 6, 7, and 8 for some time... Just completely out of order and flopping between the three... So, anyway here is this, next one might be short as well but 8 will be HECTIC and looong so hopefully it makes it up to y'all. Also, yay!!(or not?) Ghost is back!! Teehee. Enjoy. (BTW My taglist somehow ended up a whole mess. So, if you are on there by mistake OR missing, please let me know thanks.) If you'd like to be added/removed from the taglist please, let me know.

<< PART 1 / << PART 5

*GHOST POV*

“Bloody hell.”

Ghost murmurs under his breath, standing in the middle of the empty master bedroom he’d left you in just a short while ago.

She couldn’t have stuck around a few more bloody minutes?

He thought to himself. He dragged a hand down the rough material of his mask. You as well as your things had vanished.

It's been less than an hour since I left her behind. She couldn't have gotten far.

Ghost searched the neighboring houses for you. His heavy boots flattened the unkempt grass.

Clearly, she didn’t need me if she took off so soon.

When he'd left, he had some time to reflect on your argument and how he’d stormed out. Thinking that maybe he had been a bit harsh. Which is what led him to turn around, backtracking to the house you’d been searching together. But now you were gone.

Why am I wasting my time? Not like she’s my responsibility. Besides, she can survive on her own. If she doesn’t… that’s not my problem.

Ghost knew the cost of caring for people, he didn't need attachments. Not anymore. He made that mistake before and wasn't going to shoulder that burden again.

He continued back into town, the mantra repeating in his mind, hoping to squash the guilt that pooled in his gut.

It’s fine. It’s fine… She’s fine.

The sun had set by the time Ghost reached the roof of a shopping center. He’d swept the shops clearing each corner before laying out all his gear to repack, minimizing the load and ensuring he only had necessities.

As he finished organizing his supplies Ghost took a much-needed smoke break.

The stale cigarette burned his lungs as he inhaled the smoke, leaning on his elbows over the ledge of the building.

The night was quiet. Trees rustled softly in the wind. The swirling smoke dispersed quickly as he blew it out into the night. The metallic tang lingered on his tongue.

For a moment he had no thoughts on his mind, successfully ignoring the gnawing guilt he’d been feeling all evening.

Until a distant car alarm caught his attention. It was faint, almost inaudible. Ghost chopped it up to one of the infected bumping a car on the freeway.

But then, a gunshot shattered the silence. Echoing across the empty streets.

“What the…”

He muttered, His scowl deepening as he scanned the dark road below. The night consumed the sky, leaving no light save for the cherry end of the cig burning away between his fingers.

Can’t be her. She only has a pistol—it wouldn’t sound like that.

He took another drag, forcing away the thought.

The second shot came quickly. Then a third.

The gnawing guilt crept back in stronger than before.

What if it is her? What if she’s in trouble?

He paused listening for another shot, but it never came. Finally, as the faint sound of the car alarm ceased, the worry poking at the back of his mind became too much.

“Damnit.”

He grumbles. He flicks the cigarette butt on the ground and snuffs it out with the toe of his boot. He pushed off the ledge Before gathering his things, abandoning his plans to camp there for the night, and headed towards the road again to investigate the shots.

Ghost is on the freeway when he spots you, perched on top of a truck, legs tucked under you, looking bored.

Immediately the tightness in his chest is replaced by relief and His grip on his bag loosens. Though he’d never admit it he was relieved to see you alive.

Your features were illuminated by a faint light as he looked you over. To his surprise, you seemed lighter somehow, not anxious or scared like he’d expected… as you had been before.

At least now he could follow through on his plan. Bring you through the city, get some supplies, find a safe place for you to settle in, and he’d be on his way.

He took a few more steps forward and opened his mouth to call your name but, froze when the figure of a man appeared beside you. Hands on his hips in a casual manner.

Ghost sunk low behind a nearby car taking cover in the darkness. His knees brushed the cracked asphalt.

His relief changed to irritation as he watched your interaction. You slid down off the roof of the truck and the man’s hand found its way to your back in a comforting gesture of familiarity.

The man turned, closed the door, and rounded to the back end of the truck. When he pulled himself to sit on the tailgate, that’s when Ghost got a glimpse of the man’s face.

“Graves.”

He growled. The name fell from his lips like a curse. It had been what felt like ages since he’d seen him. Ghost was in disbelief; he hadn't expected Graves to still be alive let alone have stuck around here.

Ghost couldn’t deny his anger; he’d lost daylight searching for you. He’d come all the way out here, in the dark, following gunshots because he was worried about you.

You were the problem.

He was losing his head because of you. Helping you on that road made you an obligation. You begged and cried, pleading with him to stick together, And for what?

He was torn with what to do now. On one hand, it bothered him, you being with Graves. But, at the same time, you were no longer his to care for. Although he didn’t exactly trust him, Graves was a capable man, and you’d have better odds sticking with him than going it alone.

And Ghost is too prideful to come crawling back with an apology, groveling at your feet to come back with him. Why drag you along with him when obviously you were more comfortable with Graves? As far as he was concerned you had gotten exactly what you wanted.

He watched for a few more moments. The wind carried the sounds of your light-hearted chatter.

What was it about Graves that left you in such a relaxed state? How did you not feel this safe with him? Ghost was always about caution and precision, but here Graves was hardly paying attention to your surroundings, and you seemed fine with it.

As you and Graves settled into the bed of the truck, likely to camp out for the night, Ghost sighed. You didn’t need him anymore, and he no longer needed to feel guilty.

Now, he too had what he wanted… He was alone.

PART 7 >>

Tag list

@yourfavbabigirl @keiraslayz @dcnocap207 @dustycrusty09 @jupiternighties @misspendragonsworld @etherealinthewoods @shadowcompanygirl @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @ghostieghoul711

[pjmmania]

If Snow Decides to Fall

10. “We’re out of time.”

Author's Note: Chapter 10! Fitting, since it feels like this took a decade to get finished! If you don’t like drama, don’t read this one ;)

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, medical drama

Taglist: @marihoneywk @amarawayne @chimmy-licious

Back to Chapter Index

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The middle-aged woman was scandalized to have learned what had been going on since she last saw her daughter. It almost didn't sound real. One gut punch after the other, and she'd only been there about an hour.

"I don't know what to say," she said, "I don't know how you've both managed."

Jimin answered, "We keep each other as sane."

Your mother was flabbergasted, "I still find this whole thing troubling. And as her mother, I can't say there aren't parts of this that I regret for her."

The younger man nodded, stained with an uneasy chagrin. His tone was meek, and he couldn't even look her in the eye as he tried to keep his voice from breaking, "I know. I understand, and I ask for your forgiveness. I'm aware that for her, a relationship with a different man would be a lot less complicated. I have watched her struggle so much over the past five, almost six months. Your daughter really is the strongest person I've ever known. The way she deals with this with so much grace..."

She seemed to agree with him, "I regret that she has to keep so many secrets and that the distress has manifested physically. Her poor body is already going through so much. But I no longer regret that she chose you."

Jimin looked across the room at her like a puppy, disoriented.

She offered him a weak yet authentic smile, "You love her in a way a mother can only dream someone will love her little girl. I could see it the first time I was here, but I will admit, I wasn't pleased by it. Now I am glad she has you. Maybe not your career, and everything troubling that has stemmed from it, but you, as a person."

"Thank you," he let out a sigh of relief, "I can't tell you how much it means to hear you say that. Am I to assume that he doesn’t feel the same, given he didn’t come with you?”

“My husband? Sadly yes. He’s…having a bit more trouble now that this rumor has spread.”

Jimin gulped, scared of the answer to the question he was about to ask, “Does he believe it?”

The woman sighed, thinking of a way to frame it non-combatively, “He needs some more time. I still have faith he will come around, as I have. As a father, I’m afraid that this news has only deepened his mistrust for now. When I return home I will share my thoughts with him. That will help.”

He nodded, “I get it.”

"So what happens next? Surely, there must be a way to get this rumor to go away, or punish this Seoyeon woman."

He twiddled his thumbs, "Well, no one can say for sure if she's the source in the story. It's still just speculation, but it seems probable. For now, Management is releasing a statement of denial."

"Do you think that will do the trick?"

Jimin shrugged, “I’m reluctant to assure you it will, but I feel good about it. For the company to take a firm stance on such a serious issue will hopefully persuade many people that the story is false. If I was the father of that child and the company lied about it, then they could be held liable for that in court.”

“I see,” her eyes carried a sense of dread, “Will this go to court?”

“Again, it’s hard to say. I hope not. That’s the last thing we all need.”

Your mother digested it, “Then it’s probably best we don’t let our minds go there just yet. We have enough going on in the present.”

Jimin concurred, “Yeah.”

Then a pause ensued. Feeling awkward once more, your boyfriend rose from his seat, “Can I get you anything? Sorry, it was rude of me not to ask earlier.”

“Oh, yes. Some water would be great. Thank you.”

He padded off into the kitchen to fix two glasses of water. He also peered into the pantry to grab a box of those cookies he always kept stocked. His sweet tooth wasn’t necessarily in play this time. He just needed something to mindlessly chew on, and he thought he’d offer to share them.

When he handed your mother her water, he showed her the box, “Want any?”

She smiled, “Those happen to be my guilty pleasure. Yes, please.”

“I’ll set them in the coffee table then,” he chuckled, “They’re my favorites too. I’ve been buying them like crazy nowadays. Y/N’s developed an affinity for them.”

“Ah,” she sighed, taking a cookie from the box, “That would make sense. I had a terrible sugar addiction when I was pregnant with her. They say mothers and daughters experience pregnancy in similar ways.”

“Really? That sounds like an old wive’s tale.”

She shrugged, “Could be, but every now and then those reign true. They also say that a sweet tooth during pregnancy means you’re having a girl, and I had one.”

Jimin couldn’t hold his laugh after swigging down some water, “I’ll make sure I mention that to her.”

Though glad this meeting was somewhat positive, he had to wonder how you’d react when you came home.

“Thank you guys for doing this.” you said before shoveling a mouthful of heukmi in.

The small group of fellow girlfriends nodded. Hana smiled, “Of course. Figured this would be a good time to talk.”

She was the one to reach out to you and invite you to lunch. You were in a small cafe located not too far from work.

Aejun and Yunhee gave you sympathetic looks. The three women were gutted for you.

“How are you both holding up?” Yunhee asked with detectable hesitation. She didn’t want to upset you more than you already had been.

“The best we can,” you answered honestly, “I take comfort in knowing that the company will work hard to disprove it. But I wish I stayed home today. I’m worried for Jimin.”

You’d been thinking of him most of the day, wondering if he was going stir crazy cooped up in the apartment.

“He doesn’t deserve this. I can’t imagine the kind of pressure he’s under.” remarked Hana.

“What do you need from us?” Aejun asked, “I mean, is there anything we can do?”

“Your friendship means more than anything. Seriously, I know we just met, but you three are the only peers I have. My parents don’t speak to me anymore, and I have a friend in my coworker, Chaeyoung, but I can’t tell her for obvious reasons. You guys are it for me.” you laughed a little, though there was little humor to be felt.

“Hey, three is all you need,” Yunhee beamed, “We are all in the same boat. We have coworkers and other friends that we can’t share this part of our lives with.”

“The scary thing is that someday soon, everyone will know about this part of my life.” you said.

Hana, sitting next to you in the booth, scooted and warmly nudged you, “Yeah, and you’ll have an adorable little baby.”

You began to smile wider. Their positivity was a godsend.

“Oh,” suddenly Aejun became alert as she looked down at her phone, mindful to keep her volume appropriately low, “They just released the statement.”

You inhaled deeply, as if to try to make your peace with it before hearing it. In this brief moment of anxiety, you felt a rush of dizziness return. It faded quickly as you took another subtle deep breath, luckily.

“What does it say?” Yunhee asked.

Aejun looked at you cautiously, “Is it alright if I read it?”

You hummed, giving her permission that she really didn’t need.

Reading from the company’s social post, she began:

“Hello, this is BigHit Music. This is a statement clarifying our position on a recent publication about BTS member Jimin. This article reports that Jimin has fathered a child, but this is unequivocally false. The woman at the center of the report is confirmed to be married. Therefore, to claim that he is the father of her child is deeply insulting to his character and integrity. We are currently investigating into the source of this libelous report, and will take legal action if it becomes necessary to prove our artist’s noninvolvement. Thank you.”

Hana tried to assure you by saying, “That’s a strong start.”

To your surprise, you were actually happy with how it turned out, “Yeah, it’s pretty good.”

“I think it will convince a lot of people that he has nothing to do with her,” said Yunhee as she sipped on an iced tea through a black plastic straw, “Especially those who are on the fence.”

You nodded, taking a sip of your ice water, “I hope you’re right. I take some comfort in knowing that they probably let Jimin approve it beforehand. If he’s satisfied with it, then so am I.”

As a foursome, you went about eating more of the food in front of you, mindful of the time, as you all had to go back to work eventually.

“In other news, the Black Swan video looks awesome,” Hana grinned, “Thanks for dressing our guys well.”

Another gut twist. You’d completely forgotten that it was due for release around this time. Sanghee had to have mentioned the release date to you at some point, but it must have gone in one ear and out the other.

You put a hand to your forehead, “What timing…”

Aejun giggled, “It seems that slipped your mind. No one could blame you.”

You appeared dumbfounded at yourself, “I don’t know how, but it did. Oh God, I hope it’s being received well, given everything else that’s going on.”

You were worried for Jimin, praying that he wasn’t receiving more hate on their own channel.

Hana assured, “When I watched it, there were a few comments questioning why they’d put it out now, but most comments were pretty typical.”

Aejun, with her dry wit, said, “You know, the thousands of strangers saying hot our boyfriends are.”

“Yeah, so don’t worry. Jimin isn’t being ripped apart on his own music video.” agreed Hana.

You breathed a sigh of relief, “Good. I just hope it stays that way.”

There was a brief, comfortable pause as each of you pondered the situation at hand.

“So basically social media is a BTS wormhole right now.” laughed Yunhee.

Then Hana and Aejun started to laugh too. Their energy being too delightful and infectious, you permitted yourself to laugh along. Sometimes, there was just nothing else to do. Your body needed that rush of endorphins, no matter how short-lived.

The four of you laughed until your stomachs hurt.

There was nothing you longed for more than the sanctuary of his arms. You’d received your daily helping of heartburn after lunch, as well as a tiny bit of back pain.

When you walked into your home, you slipped off your shoes and carelessly dropped your bag next to them. You set your keys down on the console table and unbuttoned your pants. Still bloated from lunch, even your newer maternity pants felt a bit tight.

As you walked through the entry hallway, you took off your lightweight cardigan, leaving you in a simple tank top and undone pants.

You didn’t hear Jimin call out for you, which he normally did if he was ever home before you. but you could have sworn you caught the sight of your mother’s signature black purse, resting on a chair in the living room.

You were in disbelief when you walked up to it, then greeted with the sound of her voice saying your name, along with your boyfriend’s.

Mouth slightly agape, your turned towards their voices. They seemed to have come out of the guest bedroom. This was the second time in your pregnancy your mother paid you a surprise visit, but this one was more unexpected than the first.

She looked a little different to you, maybe even aged. Her hair was tied back and her eyes had bags under them, which disappeared when she laid eyes on you. They glistened with tears as she bypassed Jimin quickly, arms open for you.

“Oh, my girl,” she smiled through her emotion, bringing you into her arms, “I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through. And I’m sorry I was so stubborn.”

You raised your brows as she hugged you the best she could in spite of your bump in the way. You met Jimin’s gaze. He was smiling, leaning against the wall as he shrugged at you.

Then your mother pulled away, holding onto your arms, “You look beautiful. How are you feeling? I was told about the blood pres-

You shook your head, “Mom, Mom, hold on. What are you doing here?”

She let go of your arms and then glanced back at the man in the room, before returning her eyes to you, “I came after I heard about this…situation. I just wanted to check on you, assuming you would have taken a personal day off work for this. But I’m glad I got a few hours to speak with Jimin.”

Your eyes widened, looking back and forth between the two of them, “You’ve been here for hours? Why didn’t either of you text me?”

Jimin pushed himself off the wall and came forward, “Didn’t want to bother you. Plus, we filled the time with a lot of talking.”

“Yes, he explained everything to me,” she said, “It’s been difficult for you both, and I’m so sorry for that. But I’m glad you’ve found a man who loves you to help you through it. A very good man.”

Jimin smiled to himself.

Taken aback by her compliment, you couldn’t speak. You just blinked a few times.

Then your boyfriend’s grin faded. He could tell you were growing frustrated, on top of your bewilderment. He knew this reunion wouldn’t be simple.

Your mother gestured for you to sit down. Slowly, you went along with it. Your boyfriend disappeared into the kitchen to fix you a glass of water and your prenatal vitamin, having noticed that you forgot to take it in the morning.

Overcome with confusion, relief, and aggravation, you stammered, “S-So what? You’re back in my life, just like that?”

“Sweetie-”

“You didn’t speak to me for months,” you protested, “Do you have any idea how isolated I’ve felt?? I’m having a baby in what keeps unfolding to be an impossible circumstance, and my own parents basically abandoned me. You think you can just show up and give me a hug and everything can be fine??”

“You have every right to be angry with your father and I,” she sighed, “It took far too long for us to get over our preconceptions about the situation and reach out.”

“There’s no ‘us’,” you disputed, “Dad’s not here. He’s still sticking to it, isn’t he?”

“I’m going to do everything I can to persuade him.”

You chuckled so you wouldn’t cry, “I’d actually really appreciate that. I’m…I’m sorry I’m so upset…I just didn’t expect this and there’s been so much going on.”

Conscious of your escalating nerves, Jimin walked back into the living room and presented you with some water and your vitamin. You thanked him and consumed both as he meandered to the back of your selected seat, placing his hands on your shoulders for moral support.

You put a hand on one of his, not put on a display of mutual support, but to make sure he didn’t go anywhere.

Your mother corrected herself, “I’m sorry. I just want to tell you I’m here for you, if you need me. Carrying a child is hard enough in itself, I can’t imagine what it’s like in your shoes.”

“It’s been horrible at times,” your posture relaxed as you made the admission, “But you were right. I have a very good man by my side. And you owe him an apology too, for how severely you misjudged him.”

Jimin gave you a tiny squeeze, giving your mother a reassuring expression, “She has, very graciously. And unnecessarily. I’ve always understood why you guys might not like me, so there are no hard feelings.”

You caught how she smiled back at him. It was then made obvious that her opinion of him truly had changed.

She stayed for a while longer, to catch up on your life. During that time, you felt the beginnings of healing take root. Your heart was still hurt, and it certainly wasn’t going to mend overnight. But at the same time, you were grateful she made the first step, defying her own husband in the process.

When she left, the second you closed the door, you turned to look to Jimin. He was standing close behind you, already starting to chuckle.

You shook your head, but couldn’t help your own grin, “What the hell has today been?”

“I thought that was very kind. Your mom is a very nice woman. And I’m glad I got the chance to get better acquainted with her, and she with me,” he said, inching closer to you, “After the initial awkward phase, we actually had a nice time while you were gone. You’re like her in some ways.”

Your back remained against the door as he drew even closer to you, “How so? Careful with your answer, by the way.”

His classic smirk appeared, “You’re both pretty stubborn. Neither of you are good at hiding your emotions…What else? Similar taste in clothes…”

You playfully batted at his chest, “None of those things are what a daughter wants to share with her mother.”

He brought you into his arms, “But all of those things are lovely, including the stubbornness. Strong people have a stubborn side, the good kind.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, “Nice save.”

Then he looked down at midsection and chuckled again, “Are these pants no longer comfy?”

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you broke free and began walking back to the living room, “No, they’re fine. I just had a huge lunch today and I needed to let our poor baby breathe. I went out with the girlfriends.”

“Oh,” he was thankful for some pleasant news as he followed you, “That’s great, baby. I’m sure they were a good distraction.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, plopping down on the larger sofa and stretching out, “For a little bit anyway. Today still wasn’t the best, as you could imagine. Chaeyoung and I went to speak with Minjun, actually. Her idea, not mine.”

Jimin sat down beside you and lifted your legs onto his lap to begin a light massage of your calves, “I’m aware. He called me afterwards. I think it’s good that they are aware of her current situation. He’s going to try and contact them. If, against all odds, it turns out that they had nothing to do with the story, he may ask them to put out a statement of their own.”

“Oh…How would you feel about that?”

He looked up at the ceiling as he thought of the right words to say, “I guess I’m not sure. I want this to be cleared up. And while I’m not super comfortable with Seoyeon speaking up, if it will put out this fire, then I’ll take it. Believe me, this affects the company enough that they will do anything to disprove it.”

You nodded, placing your hands on your bump, “That was definitely made clear in the statement. In one sense, I’m glad to hear it. But it also makes me worry even more about what they will do when we have to tell the truth. Not with me, but with you.”

He smiled at you softly, “You don’t need to be concerned with that. Whatever happens can be handled. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

His comfort was infectious to you, making you ease up. A gentle grin to mimic his spread across your face, “We have.”

“You and me, my love. That’s what we do. We make it through anything that gets thrown our way.”

You would have replied with some sweet thing, but that was postponed when your unborn child kicked, and you felt it against your palm. It was like a tap.

Eyes, widening, you gasped, “Jimin, come here. Quick!”

Curious, he scooted closer to you, lifting your legs off of him to allow more space. The taps kept occurring as you sat up, grabbing his hand. You swapped yours for his on your belly.

“Feel it?”

The two of you only had to wait a few seconds before the baby’s movements made another appearance. You felt it from the inside, him from the outside.

His face was pure glee, “Finally!”

“Thanks for showing up for us today,” you cooed down to your belly, “You’re becoming such a little squirmer.”

“Keep going, little one,” the father coached, “Come on, one more. Good job!”

You laughed, “All of the sudden he’s so eager to please.”

“She is eager to please.”

You sighed and looked down at your bump again, “Mommy and Daddy can’t seem to agree on whether you’re a boy or girl…We also can’t seem to pick a name for you. Or build you a nursery. Or buy you clothes and all the diapers we can get our hands on.”

Jimin chuckled as the kicking ceased, lifting your shirt so he could place a warm kiss to your bare flesh, “We will do all of that in good time.”

“Well I hate to say it, but the ‘good time’ might be now. Especially for the nursery. That will take time, which is something you don’t have a lot of.”

He smirked, sitting up, “I’ll make time. Why don’t we start taking things out of the guest room this weekend? Then you can pick a new color for the wall and I’ll get the guys to help me paint.”

You hummed in satisfaction, pulling your shirt back over your tummy, “I like the sound of that.”

"I'm glad, because I do have a tiny bit of sad news that you won’t like the sound of."

"Nothing could be worse than the bomb that was dropped on us yesterday," you said, "What is it?"

He went back to massaging your legs, "I'm afraid I won't be able to take you out on a discreet date anytime soon. Now that there's a rumor about me getting someone pregnant, I don't like the risk of showing up to even the most respectful places. You look too pregnant now, baby."

You nodded, "I know. Honestly, even if none of the Seoyeon stuff was happening, it wouldn't be a smart idea anyway."

His heart was burning with disappointment on your behalf. He remembered how important it was to you to be able to do those things, and now the opportunity had been totally squandered, for the time being. You had to go back to absolute secrecy - no exceptions.

Jimin lamented, "You know I think you deserve so much more, right baby?"

You caught the hint of shame, "I know it, Jimin."

The following day was more of the same - you went into work while Jimin stayed home.

Giving you a sense of deja-vu, Chaeyoung came into your office once again, as you were getting situated at your desk. Most days, you were happy to start your work day with a friendly chat, but the circumstances were squeezing the patience out of you.

There was something odd about her carriage this morning. She looked a smidge distraught, and fully shut the door behind her.

“Morning, Chae,” you sighed as you sat down, trying not to sound irritated, “What’s up?”

She sat in one of the smaller chairs, “Nothing, just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

You paused and looked at her directly, nerves ticking upward, “I’m fine. Why, do I look off today?”

“Other than the typical pregnancy look, no.” she said.

You smiled, “Ouch.”

“I just wanted to apologize for yesterday,” she folded her hands in her lap, “You were clearly uncomfortable going up to Management and I kind of forced you. Sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you to stick out your neck like that.”

“Oh,” your grin grew more genuine, “Thanks for saying that. It’s alright, I promise. I guess it just felt like something I shouldn’t do. Not my business, you know?”

Chaeyoung narrowed her eyes just the slightest bit for the shortest second, before nodding along, “Honestly, a part of me felt that way too. But I wanted to do something small that could help Jimin. I guess I sort of view all the guys as friends and I hate thinking about what he’s going through right now.”

You were detecting a change in her demeanor and naturally became more cognizant of your word selection, “They aren’t our friends in the traditional way, but I see where you’re coming from. I feel for him too.”

She said nothing for a moment, causing a bundle of nerves to take root in the pit of your stomach. You just had to make it through this weird conversation, you told yourself, and then you could go about your day.

Unfortunately for you, your colleague seemed to be in a curious mood today.

Chaeyoung leaned forward a little, lowering her voice despite the door being closed, “Yes…It’s easy to tell that you care about him.”

Your stomach did a flip. You felt your face flush, which only fueled your apprehension, making you paranoid that your nerves were on fully display.

You laughed uneasily, “Is it? How so?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, leaning in a bit more, “You just appear to enjoy your interactions with him in the studio.”

You were wiggling your ankle under your desk, “I do, actually. He’s kind and funny. Everyone feels that way about him. I mean, you can’t deny that you do.”

“No, he’s a very pleasant person to be around,” she replied, “All I’m saying is you’ve…developed an affinity for him, right?”

It was taking all of your will to summon composure, “Chae, what are you insinuating?”

She said nothing for a moment, but then she smiled, “I guess I really don’t know. I’ll leave you to it.”

Then she got up and started towards the door. You felt some relief, but there’d be a lingering dread. Now it was evident that someone at work had gotten suspicious of you and Jimin. You were eagerly waiting for her to exit the office, so you could let out a panicked sigh and let yourself react.

And then she halted, and turned back towards you.

Her face was almost in a state of a wince, taking no pleasure in any of this.

She started back towards you and plopped back into the chair, “Actually, no. I’m very sorry, Y/N, but I need to talk to you about this.”

“A-About what?” you kept up the act for as long as you could.

Chaeyoung’s expression hardened, “You know.”

Again, you spackled on a grin, “I truly have no idea.”

Then she reached across your desk to grab your hand, “You’re shaking. You can tell me. It’s okay.”

The realization that she most likely knew the truth was starting to sink in. For whatever reason and against your wishes, your eyes pricked with tears.

“I don’t know what you’re alluding to.”

Her tone softened, as if she pitied you, “You love him, Y/N.”

A tear rolled down your cheek, “I-I-”

“And he loves you,” she nearly whispered, “He’s the father of your baby. It’s okay. You don’t have to keep it from me anymore.”

Finally, you exhaled and gave up. You knew you should have kept lying, but you couldn’t help the desire to have some of this tremendous weight lifted from your shoulders.

You sniffled, wiping under your eyes, “How did you know?”

She smiled gently, “I wasn’t sure for a while. You guys do enjoy your interactions, but I was convincing myself that he’s just like that with everyone. But when I found out you’re pregnant, it clicked. Especially since you’ve never told me anything about the father.”

“Right…” you were still processing, “Please don’t tell a soul. You know what will happen.”

Sadly, she nodded, “I know. I can only assume that it’s the reason why you’re having health problems. I can’t imagine how difficult this has been for both of you. You have my word that I won’t utter a word.”

You shook your head, more tears falling, “I just told you this huge secret and you’re promising to keep it, just like that?”

She laughed lightly, “Of course. We’re friends. I want you to be well. Now we can finally talk about the fact that you’re having Park Jimin’s baby.”

You started to laugh through your tears, “Don’t say it too loud.”

“Sorry.” she lowered the volume.

“But why did you wait so long to confront me?” you asked.

She suddenly reverted back to being somewhat illusive, “Oh, I don’t know. I just got tired of you hiding it, after seeing the toll it’s taken on your health. I-I became more determined after you got sent home. I wanted you to have a friend here to, you know, vent to.”

You nodded, sniffling again as your emotions calmed, “I guess that makes sense. Thank you.”

“If you guys ever come clean,” she became more serious, “Can I trust that you won’t tell Management that I knew? They could fire me too, for knowing and not saying anything.”

“O-Of course,” you assured, “You’ve protected me all these months. I’ll protect you too. It’s the very least I can do to repay you.”

Then her face fell. You were perplexed yet again by her fluctuating moods. She crossed her arms over her torso in a self-embrace. Then she crossed her legs. It was the body language of someone who wasn’t saying everything. She was closing her body off, as if trying to conceal whatever had been left unsaid.

Nerves climbing, you tilted your head slightly, “Chae? What’s wrong? Does someone else know?”

She shook her head, looking like she wanted to sink into herself, “No, no…But there is something else I think I need to tell you.”

The suspense was holding you hostage, “What is it?”

Her emotional state escalated. She even checked to see that the door was indeed closed and locked, “I-I didn’t want to even tell you at first, but now I feel like I need to because it’s eating at me.”

Her timid energy rendered you speechless. You were at a point where you had to focus on your breathing. Your heart was racing, and you placed a hand on your chest to try to stabilize yourself.

“I did it…” Chaeyoung nearly whispered, “I’m the one who went to the press.”

You started to chuckle. It was hilarious.

“Come on,” you shook your head, “Don’t freak me out like that.”

“I did, though. I’m the source in the story,” she reiterated more calmly, “At the airport, I could tell that Seoyeon was putting the pieces together about you. It was in her eyes, and she clearly recognized that shirt she used to borrow from Jimin.”

Your gaze evolved into one of horror. She was really telling the truth.

“And then a couple weeks later, my husband told me that she’d spoken about you at their firm. She inquired about you to him, mentioning that you work with me. She was keen on asking if you were married or not. My husband told her you aren’t married and apparently that confirmed it for her.”

Your knees felt locked. Your chest was throbbing and you felt hot.

She went on, “Seoyeon isn’t trustworthy. I could feel that she was getting ready to exploit this. She was angling to go to the media herself, probably exposing you by name and perhaps even disclosing her own relationship with Jimin. It would have been crushing and so I decided to seize the initiative.”

You grew angrier, keeping your voice low, “You decided to what, do it yourself? So that you could be the one to cause all this mayhem? I-I don’t event know where to start. How could you?”

“I did it for your benefit,” she rushed, “I swear, Y/N.”

“Why did you take me through that whole song and dance about how you’ve known about us this whole time? Did you want to butter me up so I’d promise not to tell anyone about this??”

Your veins were surging with red hot blood. This was sending you over the edge, but it couldn’t be helped.

“No, of course not. Please listen.” she begged.

You shot up onto your feet and pointed to your door, warning her through clenched teeth so that you wouldn’t yell, “Leave now. I can’t bear to hear this anymore.”

She stood up too, desperately, “It was the right thing. If you could allow to me to explain, I promise you’ll see.”

You were infuriated now, your head pounding, hands shaking. You didn’t know whether to scream or burst into tears. Her actions had caused so much turmoil and damage, some of it irreparable. Because of her, there would likely always be some people who thought Jimin fathered another kid. This rumor would always be slung at him by rude commenters seeking to make a cruel dig. It would always follow him, and it would always follow you. And she, your own friend, was the culprit.

“I don’t want your…Y-Your explan…Explanation…”

Chaeyoung was remorseful and alarmed to watch you get increasingly unstable. Cheeks red, eyes slightly glassy. You swayed a little, experiencing a sensation as though you were floating off the floor. And then you collapsed onto it, losing consciousness.

“I don’t understand,” Jimin said, partially while biting on his finger, “How is this verified?”

Minjun was on the phone with him, delivering some confusing information, “I was able to speak with both of them, though she didn’t have too much to say. They are beside themselves, just like you are. They are going to call the same publication and make a joint statement, saying that the rumor is totally false and expressing their wish for this to die down. I have also ensured that there will be no mention of your previous relationship with her.”

“Wow…Sorry, this is not what I expected to hear. I was so convinced she was behind it,” he said, “She seemed troubled?”

“Very,” the manager confirmed, “She sounded as if she hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep. They also will be pursuing legal action.”

“I’m just so confused,” Jimin ran a hand through his dark hair, which was desperately in need of a trim, “Now I have literally no idea who it could have been.”

“My best guess would be that Seoyeon may have told those in her inner circle about you two. And maybe one of those people got the wrong impression.”

He hummed as he weighed the notion, “Could be. You don’t think it could be someone else at the company, do you? There would be a handful who would know that the two of us were together at one point.”

“We certainly won’t rule that out,” Minjun sighed, “But the risk for any employee of our would be too high. They’d have to be willing to put their job on the line for that.”

Jimin groaned, “None of this makes any sense…If either of those theories were true, then the individual would likely know that Seoyeon is married. And they’d have to create this story, probably knowing that it’s false. It would have to be a deliberate move. Whoever did this most likely lied, on purpose. Right?”

“I can see how that would be plausible,” the other man considered, “However, try not to deep dive into it. It’s our job to go down all the rabbit holes. The good news is, as soon as Seoyeon and Daejin release their statement, we will have gotten over the biggest hurdle. Once they dispute it, almost all of this will go away.”

Jimin was only partially listening as he concluded his sentence, his attention split by his phone buzzing. He was getting another call, but it was an unknown number. For obvious reasons, he declined to answer it.

The manager asked him, “You there?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just had another random call come through.”

“No worries. I was just saying most of this will go away very soon. I’ll stay in touch.”

“Sounds good,” Jimin said, “I’d like to get back in the studio soon.”

“Within the next day or so, don’t worry,” Minjun chuckled, “Alright, take care.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Almost as soon as he hung up, there was another incoming call. It was from Hoseok, so he accepted it with a sigh. He was probably just wanting to check in, being the good friend he was.

“Hey, Hobi.”

“Jimin,” his tone struck a different chord than anticipated, “I really don’t mean to pile onto your issues right now, but an ambulance came by the building. I’m on too high of a floor to see who was on the stretcher, but it kind of looked like a pregnant woman. Maybe you should check in on Y/N.”

It was the most unwelcome thought. A gap suddenly snapped within him, “I’ll call her right now. I have to go.”

There was no time to let Hoseok reply. He disconnected and called you immediately, heart knocking against his chest a little harder. When you didn’t pick up, the knock evolved into a batter.

Jimin called you several times over the next few minutes, each call ringing all the way through to your voicemail. That triggered even more panic, as if you were only in a meeting or something, it would have rung a couple times to be met with your rejection. The fact that it was ringing for that long each time gave the impression that you weren’t near your phone at all.

Then, a godsend, that same unknown number called him back.

Never, in any other case, would he think to answer a call from an unidentified source. This time, he felt like he had no choice.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Park. I’m calling from Seoul National University Hospital. We’ve received a Miss Y/N Y/L/N into our Emergency Unit.”

He felt like he could have been sick any moment, springing into panic mode. He hustled to get some shoes on and a jacket, “Oh my God…I-Is she alright?? What happened??”

“Her friend said she passed out at work,” the woman explained, “She has regained consciousness briefly, but has since gone back under. While you’re not her emergency contact, we were told by the friend that you should know immediately.”

He was hopeful and dreading that ‘the friend’ was Chaeyoung. He was glad to figure that you had someone who cared about you by your side, but painfully alarmed that Chaeyoung could have known to contact him. He could only imagine that it meant she suspected his involvement with you.

But that was secondary, for now. Jimin was shoving his feet into his sneakers, “I’m on my way.”

“When you arrive, make your way to the Maternity Wing. Fortunately for Y/N, her doctor is currently in the building. We are transferring her up there now.”

He barely understood. All he heard was ‘maternity wing’. His brain was moving a mile a second.

“Thank you, I’ll be there soon.”

It was impossible to hang up faster than he did. He bolted back and forth through the apartment for a few moments, forgetting his wallet and keys.

The drive to the hospital felt like hours. His mind was so clouded that it was a miracle he didn’t get into an accident. His only thoughts were of you. Even though he hadn’t been told that you were in critical condition, the woman on the phone didn’t say you were alright. He had no idea what to make of it, and that terrified him. Was the fainting spontaneous? Had you injured yourself? If you fell, could it have hurt the baby?

He parked a bit haphazardly in the lot, before storming inside. He had no mask on, no hat, no sunglasses. Totally recognizable with no room to care.

He rushed in and gave thanks to the universe that there was no one in-line. He had direct access to the receptionist, a woman who could have been close to his age.

Her wasted no time, and uttered a phrase that couldn’t have been more condemning, given the rumor that was swirling around.

“I need to find the Maternity Wing.” he said, slightly out of breath due to adrenaline.

The young woman’s eyes widened as she froze for a few seconds. It was then that Jimin became more aware of the drastic move he was making. He was standing, in a public hospital, frantic. It didn’t look good. And as soon as he made it to the right part of the building, it would do nothing to dispel his current predicament with the media.

The receptionist pulled her conduct together, “Y-Yes, you’ll want to head up to the third floor. The elevators are just around that corner over there. Once you’re off, take a right and you will see the entryway.”

The nervous wreck of a man nodded, “Thank you.”

Those behind the desk watched him as he hurried away, before gossiping amongst themselves about what had just happened.

Others in the lobby took notice of him as well, all of them too flabbergasted to even try to say anything to him. That was another gift from the universe - to not have to deal with over-excited fans in the middle of this.

Once off the elevator, he took a right as the right, just as the woman downstairs had said. When he saw the two large doors labeled with the right name, Jimin broke into a jog. He pushed open one of the doors and completed his journey to the next front desk.

More were shocked to see him there. He heard gasps and some whispering.

He made sure he kept his voice low, so hopefully no one would be able to hear your name, “I’m here for Y/N Y/L/N. I was just called.”

This woman did a better job of keeping a professional decorum, standing up, “Right, follow me please.”

Jimin couldn’t bear to look at his surroundings. He knew people were staring, and he was terrified of turning his head to see phones either taking pictures or recording him. There was no time to start to worry about the fallout. You and his little baby were somewhere on this floor, possibly hurting.

The door was opened for him. She said quietly, “Doctor Yoon will be in to check on her shortly. And don’t worry. If I have to, I will call security on anyone who may disturb your time.”

Once he caught the sight of you in that bed, his ears drowned out the sound of her voice. He wasn’t sure if he thanked her for doing him that act of kindness before the door was closed.

Chaeyoung was sitting in one of the side chairs, and suddenly Jimin’s overworked mind was split between dealing with her and his concern for you. He saw on her tear-soaked face that she knew the truth, so he didn’t bother saying anything to her.

He approached your bedside and pulled up a chair, eyes brimming with his own tears as he scanned your frame. His chest burned with hatred for what brought you to this point, your poor body filled with so much distress that it needed to give out for a while.

“She’s been in and out of sleep,” Chaeyoung said, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait,” he looked up from your resting face to look at her, “How long have you known?”

She pursed her lips together before croaking, “A while. But I won’t say anything. I haven’t this far.”

He nodded slowly, “How did you get my number for them to call?”

She smiled a little, “Y/N thinks she’s been good at keeping secrets from me, including her phone password. I unlocked it and found your contact.”

Jimin inhaled slowly, and exhaled, “Thank you for your discretion. I don’t really know what else to say. You’ve looked out for her.”

Chaeyoung’s soft grin eroded, “I’ve tried, I really have.”

“When you walk out, please don’t say anything to anyone if they approach you…I fear I’ve just launched another frenzy. Worse, I don’t think I can make my way out of this one.”

The woman nodded, “I’m truly sorry.”

“Thank you, Chaeyoung.”

She seemed to float out of the room, almost in a daze. It intrigued him, but all outside thoughts flew from his mind when you began to stir.

Your eyes closed tighter for a second as you hummed, causing Jimin to wonder if you were in pain. Then they opened, taking notice of him instantly.

The man took your hand and brought it to his lips, “You scared the hell out of me. Everything’s going to be okay, sweetheart.”

“I have a headache.” you said, squinting a little, “These lights are so bright.”

Jimin breathed out a sigh of relief that you weren’t complaining of more serious pain, “I’ll turn them off.”

He rose from the chair and walked towards the door, flicking the switch to create a much dimmer atmosphere for you. It soothed your forehead and eyes right away.

“I…” your voice was small, “I don’t understand. How did you find out?”

He offered you a smile sitting back down, “Chaeyoung apparently knows your phone password and had them call me.”

“She didn’t just call you herself?” you asked, “W-Why? Did she leave? Jimin, y-you can’t be here. Were you noticed?”

He put his hand on your belly, “Yeah, she left. And I don’t know, baby. That’s not important right now.”

“But-”

“Not important,” he offered you a soft, forced smile, “Don’t waste an ounce of your energy on what people may or may not have noticed. It’s only us, our little family.”

You nodded and placed your own hand on your belly, right next to his, “Did she tell you what happened?”

“Not exactly, she just said you’ve been drifting in and out of sleep. You passed out, right?”

Tears began to form in your eyes as you prepared to tell him what you had learned, lips quivering, “Jimin-”

He leaned forward to kiss your forehead and your cheeks several times, unable to withstand the sight of you like this, “Don’t cry. I know you’re worried about the baby. They said Doctor Yoon will be here any minute to make sure you’re both alright.”

On cue, the door unlatched and Doctor Yoon walked in.

Your attentive, inwardly petrified boyfriend put on a brave smile for you, “See?”

Sensitive to your needs, the doctor left the lights off. There was enough natural light in the room to conduct her business. She had your chart on her arms, but took a minute to show cater to your emotional needs.

“I know,” she sighed, “Not the most relaxed situation. It’s okay. I’ve seen this occur more times than I can even count and all will be well.”

You and Jimin nodded, both of you worried for your little one.

“However,” Doctor Yoon sat down in her cushioned black stool, “I think we’ve reached a point where I need to start running some diagnostic tests. Given the way your blood pressure has increased, even on the meds, I want to test for preeclampsia.”

Jimin’s brain couldn’t compute what that meant. He blinked a couple times, “Sorry, for some reason I can’t remember what preeclampsia is.”

“Don’t apologize, that’s why you have a doctor,” she said, “Preeclampsia is basically just another word for persistent high blood pressure. The reason we want to check for it is because it negatively impacts the placenta, which is in charge of nourishing your baby with blood, oxygen, and food.”

Horrified, Jimin looked down at you to make sure you weren’t unraveling.

“What kinds of tests do you need to do?” you asked her.

“First of all, I want to check baby’s size. You’re at a point now where we should see baby growing quickly. If your placenta is being compromised, he or she would be a bit small for their age. Then I’ll take your blood and a urine sample, which I can have the results for in a day or two.”

The two of you continued to be situated in silence as the professional went about the room, preparing the ultrasound equipment. Jimin was holding your hand, his increasingly sweaty palm cupping your knuckle. You felt horrible that he was so clearly petrified, but was trying to hold it all together for you. It was admirable, but hard to watch.

To help him, you made a conscious effort to appear more relaxed. If you looked calm, perhaps he would feel more at ease. Exhaling on a deep breath, you let your shoulders drop.

Doctor Yoon scooted next to you, on the other side of the less than comfortable hospital bed. It was like a routine ultrasound - she had you clear some space on your bump so she could place some gel. The cool jelly was swiped in circles over your flesh in circular motions.

A few moments later, the heartbeat of your child filled the room, filling both of you with a tiny fraction of relief.

“Still sounds strong,” the woman smiled at you both, “That’s a good sign. And you don’t appear particularly swollen, which is also encouraging.”

You did your best not to sound shaky as you asked, “Does he or she seem small?”

“Let’s see…” she sighed, “At first glance, this looks like a very typical size. A tad on the small side, but that could very well be genetic, if either of you were small at birth.”

Your nervous boyfriend tried to lighten the mood, “I’m not known for being tall, so that could be on me.”

You laughed a little, making the image on the screen bounce.

Doctor Yoon kept making some clicks, “Yeah, I’m not seeing evidence of abnormal growth. Another positive sign. And I love seeing so much movement.”

“There’s been so much squirming lately.” you said.

She smiled as she turned off the machine and wiped your belly clean, “That’s what we want to see. I’ll go order those labs for you, just so we can be certain. Sit tight, you two.”

As Doctor Yoon stood, Jimin caught her attention. He took an upward stance, again putting forth the effort to sound collected, “Oh, before you walk out the door…”

The doctor tilted her head slightly, “Yes?”

“I apologize for any unwanted attention you may receive. Curious eyes.”

You had a lump in your throat and turned your head to the side, gazing at one of the gestational biology posters on the wall.

Doctor Yoon offered him reassurance, “Those folks aren’t my concern. You don’t need to worry about that.”

He resumed his place by your side, “Thank you.”

When the door shut and the two of you were alone once more, he let out a hefty sigh. His fingers traced over any remaining bits of the clear gel on your belly.

“We got over a couple hurdles at least, right little one? You look like you’ve grown to a good size, and your heart is still going strong.”

You began to tear up, “Jimin I need to tell you something.”

His first reaction to seeing you cry was to lean over and kiss your forehead. He wiped your tears away, “Shh, it’s alright. Please don’t cry, sweetheart. Whatever it is, we will work it out.”

“The reason I passed out,” you said, “Is Chaeyoung. She’s the one who went to the press.”

His body rejected the notion wholeheartedly, causing him to smirk a little, “No, that can’t be right.”

“It is,” you were deadly serious, eyes wide and alarmed, “She told me she did. She said it was to protect us, in some weird way.”

Any trace of nonchalance on Jimin’s face eroded. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to trust in such a ridiculous suggestion.

You went on, “I-I didn’t know it before, but her husband works with Seoyeon’s. Apparently she learned that Seoyeon had been trying to dig for more information about me. Remember how I told you I thought she recognized that t-shirt at the airport? I must have been right. Chaeyoung thought she was preparing to go to the media herself, and that by beating her to it with a different story, she’d be protecting us.”

He didn’t know whether to shout or spit.

“I…I-I don’t know what to…She told you this??”

You nodded, “She admitted it on her own.”

Body tense, Jimin shook his head, neck drawing downward. Now he was having to fight back his rage, on top of nerves for the wellbeing of you and his child.

He couldn’t understand. Chaeyoung had been nothing but a decent friend to you since you’d known her. Watching her be a friend to you had been a source of comfort for him - to know you at least had someone to take the heaviness off a smidge each day at work. He saw many instances of her care for you. This didn’t make sense.

“She did seem off when she left the room,” his voice sounded a little distant, “But I never could have imagined…this.”

Furious tears were flowing down your cheeks at this point, “H-How are you not angry?”

Jimin’s head snapped back up, giving you a glimpse of the tense muscles in his neck, “Don’t accuse me of that, baby. Of course I’m angry. I’m just in disbelief and I’m trying not to explode while you and our baby might be in trouble.”

“Sorry,” you sighed, “We should both try to remain calm. This is just…”

“Such a fucking betrayal.”

You gulped, “Yeah.”

Jimin inhaled through his nose, lips tightly glued together and eyes closed. When he opened them, he saw your doe-like expression. You were being put through the wringer.

“One thing at a time,” he said, though you weren’t sure if he was trying to fortify you or himself, “We will find out what’s going on with you first. I’ll deal with Chaeyoung later.”

The way the latter sentence spewed from his lips carried disgust.

The man was exasperated, face planting into his palms. His fingers rubbed over his brow in circles before running all the way down, pulling his cheeks with them. He released a quiet groan.

“I’ll deal with her,” Jimin muttered once more, “I promise.”

“It looks like we are going to be forced to deal with ourselves before we can take any action. You were probably seen out there, Jimin. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are cameras waiting to greet us when we leave this room.”

He nodded begrudgingly, placing his hand on your belly again. The child inside you tethered him to what little composure he had left.

“We’re out of time.”

The words shook you to your core, despite the fact that it wasn’t his intention. Jimin had been so stolid in front of you this entire journey. Even though you knew it to be true already, to hear him voice genuine dread was rattling.

You remained in the hospital for a while longer, most of that time spent waiting for Doctor Yoon to return to perform your labs. Thoughtfully, she knew the two of you would prefer to have her do them herself, rather than have some random nurse practitioner waltz in.

As you were getting your blood drawn, Jimin made a call to his security. By the way his side of the conversation was sounding, you could tell his guard had questions, but he was giving no direct answer. All he kept saying was that he should meet at the hospital. Jimin explained that he’d parked in the main lot and would probably need assistance with the exit. You could only imagine how confused this poor security guard was, not being given all the details. Your boyfriend was trying to protect your identity for as long as he could.

Before you were mentally ready, the labs were completed. There would be a wait period of a couple days before results would come in, and in the meantime, you were to take it easy. Until given further notice, you were officially on bed rest. And now it was time to step out into the world, and, most likely, a totally new reality.

Jimin helped you out of bed once he had received word from security. Doctor Yoon bid you farewell and offered some kind words, and then left you to it.

“Alright baby,” he sighed, “We’re going to walk out the door and keep our heads low. There may be some people pointing their phones at us and whatnot, but I don’t think they’ll ask questions. Usually when people see me in public unexpectedly, they don’t make comments. We will head straight to the elevator and my guard will meet us in the lobby. Have you met him before?”

“N-No,” you replied, “I’ve probably seen his face before though.”

“Good enough…I feel like now would be a good time to ask you if you’re ready, but that’s probably a silly question, huh?”

You nodded, keeping your tears locked behind your lower lid, “I’m definitely not ready…I’m not ready for this to be out there. To lose my job. For all of your fans to know who I am, and probably hate me.”

Jimin’s soul winced. He gently took your face into his hands, eyes bearing into your depths. His voice was soft, a little raspy, “Before we walk out there, I need you to know something.”

You hummed, holding his wrists in place to keep the comfort of his palms present.

His dark eyes glistened over, “I need you to know that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, inside and out. You have a creative mind and a sharp wit, and you make people around you happy. So many people rightfully adore you, baby. I adore you, desperately. I and all those others will still be around after today. You have me, your mom, my parents, the guys, the other girlfriends.”

On the verge of tears, you gave him a small grin, “Why are you saying all of this?”

He kissed your forehead, “Because I want you to know that no matter what transpires from what we are about to do, you still have a village. And I’m damn lucky to be in it.”

You smiled a little wider, but it didn’t fully run up to your eyes. Then you released his wrists from your light grasp and placed your hands on the bottom of your bump, “And we still have the most precious gift to look forward to.”

Jimin captured your lips tenderly, “We are blessed, sweetheart. Even if it doesn’t always feel that way.”

Part of you felt convicted by that. Perhaps, despite everything, you could’ve shown more gratitude for the life you had.

“I know we are,” you sighed shakily, still filled with nerves, “And I’m damn lucky to have you. I love you so much.”

He kissed you again, “I love you too. I guess we’re postponing the inevitable at this point. You okay to leave? Need another minute?”

You wanted to have an excuse to stay.

“I’m alright. We should go. The longer we wait, the more the word may spread and the more people might be anticipating.”

Jimin took your hand and started towards the door.

“W-Wait,” you stammered, “You want to be holding hands in front of them?”

The man chuckled in that special way he always did to make light of tricky circumstances.

“I suppose an upside to this situation is that we no longer have to pretend?”

A second genuine yet apprehensive smile spread minimally on your face as you held his hand a little tighter. He mirrored your expression for a moment, before turning to the door again. Both of you took a breath as he placed a hand on the door handle, pushing it down and applying pressure to open it.

The pair of you stepped out into a silent hallway. Head low, you started to wish that people were speaking. The quiet speculation was way more uncomfortable than you could have foreseen. There were whisperings as you both walked with as much discretion as possible. Camera sounds too, undoubtedly coming from people’s phones.

Your skin felt hot and your chest buzzed as you walked slightly behind your boyfriend, allowing him to guide you. This moment was beyond surreal. You were in public, openly holding hands with him. It was nothing short of a declaration. All of the sudden, you felt painfully conscious of your protruding belly.

Jimin’s heart weighed a ton in his ribcage. Though this exact situation was brand new to him, he at least had gone through familiar things more times than he could count. He’d mastered the art of keeping his face even, posture and gait normal. And he was determined to make this time no different. After all, he wasn’t ashamed of you and the baby in your womb - why would he give them the impression that you were a scandal?

The elevator ride down carried two other individuals, but they were both a bit older and seemed not to notice or care who Jimin was. When the doors slid apart at the end of the ride, unveiling a crowded lobby of people, you clenched your boyfriend's hand tighter.

His security guard, whose face was familiar but whose name escaped you, was standing right by the elevator, prepared to lead you both out to his car. He was the only other person you were willing to make eye contact with. This man was pretty tall and big, with a somewhat perplexed expression when he saw you.

This uneasy glance lasted a split second, before Jimin muttered to him with haste, "Don't worry. You'll get an explanation soon enough, along with the rest of the world."

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught some people approaching you with their phones pointed, taking photos or recording. You began to feel a little woozy again, a stint of dull nausea that would never come to fruition forming in your gut.

Too afraid to even whisper his name, you gave Jimin's hand a small tug.

He looked back at you and saw it immediately. Your eyes looked droopy - you were feeling off again.

He turned his head back to the security guard, using a low mumbling voice again, "Come on, I need to get her home. Now."

The rest of the walk to the car was a blur. You concentrated on your steps and your breath, trying to keep yourself from becoming too lightheaded. Whatever was going on around you came second.

Once out in the fresh air, it got easier to not feel as suffocated, although some people followed you guys out into the parking lot. You heard their footsteps behind you. The security guard, doing his job correctly, saw that hardly anyone was near Jimin and faltered back to stand closer to you, ensuring no one would be able to touch you.

Not soon enough, you were in his car, which thankfully had tinted windows. You were both able to release pent up puffs of air, secluded from view. For the first time throughout this experience, you looked directly at the people, since they couldn’t see you. There was a swarm of them with their rectangular devices, lenses seizing their prey.

“There are many of them…” you observed.

Jimin sighed, “Yeah, that ought to cause a stir. How do you feel? Okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” you said, “I just want to get home.”

He started the vehicle, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Both of you. We’ll be home soon. And then I’ll probably get phone calls from everyone I know.”

[the-mountain-flower]

The Exiled And The Outcast

Chapter Twenty-Five: I’ve Never Felt This Way About Anyone

Ao3 link

Previous chapter

Content warning: illness (fictional), vague references to past trauma

Falst definitely didn’t do as well with the soup as Dainix had, but in his defense it wasn’t like he got to practice his cooking skills... well, ever.

But it smelled good and looked edible, so hopefully it was good enough.

Falst had to work not to stare when Dainix took the first sip. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much, so long as it was edible and hot it should do the job just fine. Still, the look on Dainix’s face when he tasted it made Falst’s heart leap in his chest.

He’d do it a hundred times over if it meant making Dainix smile the way he was now.

Dainix definitely wasn’t shivering as much as he had been earlier, less like a scared cub and more like a usual reaction from the cold. Falst kept feeling like he had to stop him from eating the soup while it was still burning hot, as if the Ignan hadn’t just had most of his arms directly in the fire not ten minutes ago.

Dainix put down the now-empty bowl with a sigh of contentment, then looked back up at Falst with a gaze that could melt his heart.. “Thank you, Falst. That helped a lot.”

“Good to hear.” Falst bit his lip to keep himself from saying the next thing that came to his mind, then immediately regretted keeping it in. Instead, he grabbed a second blanket from the pile and moved to drape it over the first on Dainix’s back.

Do it, you coward!

“Is the demon-fire thing giving you any more trouble?” Falst finally asked.

Dainix didn’t respond at first, and for a moment Falst wondered if he’d even heard the question before he answered, “I... I don’t think so.”

“Good.” Before he could overthink it, Falst sat down right next to Dainix and gathered the covers so that they lay over both of them.

“What-”

“Body heat.” Falst insisted, wrapping one arm as best he could around Dainix’s broad shoulders. “You know. To help.” What am I doing. Why am I doing this. This is a terrible idea. If he had a dime for every time the heat served to camouflage his blush...

“Thanks.” Dainix said softly.

For the second night in a row, they remained sitting by the fireplace in comfortable silence for a long time. Falst soon noticed Dainix’s breathing had slowed down and he was leaning heavily on Falst’s side. It couldn’t be that late already, but Falst supposed sleep was always a good thing with any illness.

Gently, careful not to disturb him, Falst moved Dainix so that his head rested on Falst’s lap, which was certain to be more comfortable than his shoulder and better for a decent rest. Dainix still clutched the Fire lacrima to his chest like a child with a stuffed animal.

Guess learning about lacrimas came in handy after all. Granted, at least half of them were already placed in housings that had the inscriptions before he took them out, and all he had to do was copy them onto the stones themselves (rather than take the risk of the housings not being fireproof and loosing his reference), but at least now he knew that he could do it in a way that worked. Even though Dainix was fireproof and would be alright if something went wrong, Falst definitely was not and wasn’t a fan of the smell of burned hair or flesh. Much better this way. It definitely looked like it was helping.

After a few moments, Falst thought he’d started purring again before he realized he was humming. He did that sometimes when he was alone and certain no one could hear him, but in front of Dainix? Well, at least he was asleep.

It was always a tune Falst knew from his mother. The songs she sang to him before her final days forever burned into his mind. They were some of the few things he still remembered clearly about her. This time it was a lullaby she’d sing when he was having trouble sleeping.

Would his mom like Dainix, if she got to meet him?

The thought stopped his humming faster than a punch to the gut.

Did it matter? Why would he bother thinking about such a thing?

But... would she? If his mom were still alive, what would she think of Dainix?

She probably would...

Falst dismissed the idea. He only remembered so much. And it didn’t matter anymore. She was gone. Unless he decided to try learning necromancy or something like that, he would never know the answer, so it was pointless to consider. Falst firmly shoved the thought out of his head. (Then dismissed the even worse idea of what Dainix’s parents might think of Falst. That one was mentally buried so far down it might as well be placed in one of Stone’s hearts.)

“You okay?”

Falst would’ve leapt in shock if he didn’t have someone resting on him at the moment. Someone who, apparently, wasn’t as asleep as Falst had thought.

“I- I’m fine. Why?”

“Stopped humming,” Dainix said, his voice still a bit shaky from the chill, but still sounding a lot better than it had earlier, “wanted to make sure.”

And apparently he’d heard that. Great. Just great.

At least this time, it actually doesn’t mean anything. I’m not the one who’s sick-

Shut up!

“It’s nothing.” Falst insisted. “You feeling better?” It was a genuine question, that just so happened to double as a diversion from everything Falst didn’t want to talk about.

“Hm, yeah. Much.”

“Good.”

Dainix reached up and took one of Falst’s hands in his own, still warm from the heat of the lacrima. “I’m sorry. This isn’t the first impression I wanted to make after... well, you know.”

Damn it, sick or not, Falst was very tempted to smack him if he dared to make him blush any more. He thought about the bruise on his neck, and figured a matching one would- Wait, no, not like that- UGH!!

“Hey, with my luck, it could’ve been much worse.” was the first thing he could think of to say that didn’t seem fatally embarrassing. Seriously? My luck? He’s the one who’s sick! Gods, why did he let himself into a position of caring about how he talked to someone? Most of his lifetime was spent running from or fighting countless dangers that might’ve destroyed any normal person, but this might be what ended him.

“I guess.” Dainix smiled softly, “a friend of mine first kissed her crush while covered in sandwyrm blood.”

“Ha! How’d that go?”

“Pretty good, actually. Apparently she thought it was hot. They’ve been together since.”

“Good for them.” Falst laughed. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how hot Dainix might look in that situation... SHUT UP!!

Yeah, he wasn’t going to last a day like this. But the only solution he could think of was... talking about it. That idea was scarier than getting caught in the middle of a fight between dragons. Though, if push came to shove, the two of them could probably survive that. That train of thought quickly led back to the mention of sandwyrm blood to kissing to the them making out last night. It really, really didn’t help that Dainix’s hair was still unreasonably soft, at least as smooth as it was when-

Why. The fuck. Was Falst. Running his fingers. Through Dainix’s hair. And how long had he been doing that?!

R.I.P. Falst. Cause of death: an unfairly attractive Ignan.

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I've seen fics where Dainix doesn't feel the cold much bc of Crucible stuff, and ones where it's different bc of Crucible stuff but he still gets really cold. I heavily debated which theory I wanted to use for this fic before deciding on what I used, which I don't regret one bit bc I'm getting a lot of good stuff out of it. Now, Red's confirmation that Dainix recently realized he's not as susceptible to the cold, officially brings this fic into canon non-compliance :)

Also, so remember a bit ago when Falst finds that bruise on his neck? See, my asexual ass was under the impression that necking was steamy and could be interpreted as sexual, but wasn't explicitly such. A few days ago I learned that most people take it as very sexual (why????), which was not my intention when writing that. So just know, I wrote that part as mostly romantic and not sexual, and I have zero intention of ever getting sexual in this fic. Sorry for any confusion that may have caused. (In my defense I am asexual, sex-repulsed, and was raised mormon and purity culture has a negative one hundred on the "good sex ed" scale. How tf was I supposed to know??)

Remember to drink water, eat food, take your meds (if applicable), and get enough sleep. Love you all, and have a great [insert time here]! <3

[wren-writes-stuff]

Of Lattes And Lab Rats Chapter Two- Gifted Kid

(See here for warnings and masterlist. This story is 18+!!!)

When Jayce comes strolling into your coffee shop the next day, it's fifteen minutes 'till close. You'd almost given up hope he was coming at all. By now, you'd put up all the chairs, bussed the tables, swept and mopped, and shut down most of the equipment. Poe, the owner of the coffee shop, never let you close early, no matter how slow it was. That didn't stop you from packing up as early as possible. I digress.

When Jayce comes strolling in, it's fifteen minutes to close and you are bored out of your mind. You'd brought your sketchbook today and were lazily sketching the tables and chairs laid out in front of you. "Hi, welcome in," you say flatly. You stand up, meet his gaze, and finally realize who you're talking to. You perk up immediately. "Oh! It's you. Sorry, it's been a long day." You wring your hands nervously and smile. "Welcome back." He smiles, and it gives you butterflies. Ugh.

"Figured I'd come back for another one of those teas," He says. "And possibly your name."

You nod and grab a cup, glad to have something to busy your hands with. "Well, you're lucky," you say to the counter. "I was just about to close up shop. But, I already shut down the hot water machine so it may take some time to heat up again. Did you want to order something else?" Jayce shook his head.

"That's okay, I don't mind to wait. It gives me more time to chat with you, anyway." he smiles again, but it's broken by a realization- "Only if that's not too much trouble," he adds. "I don't mean to create more work for you." You shrug.

"It's no problem. Tea is less mess and less work than espresso." You plug the machine back in, and it whirs to life.

There's an awkward silence as you fidget with your hands again, glancing out the window.

"So," He says, and you look back to him, "You still haven't told me your name."

You tell him with a shrug and a nervous smile. He repeats it to himself, committing it to memory.

"That's pretty. It suits you." His eyes glitter in the orange light of the sunset, and you have to look away or you might get dizzy.

"Hah, thanks. I dunno. I always thought it was a little plain. Um, I'm really glad you came back though." You try to change the subject to something other than yourself. "So, you go to the academy?"

Jayce nods. "Sort of. I graduated last year, but I work in the engineering department now." He chuffs a bit, clearly proud of himself.

"Wow, that's awesome." Smart and handsome? This guy really is the whole package. "So, you're a professor?"

"Ah, um, no. My research is funded by the academy. Um..." he hesitates, considering something. "Actually, did you have plans tonight?"

You gawk at him, bewildered by the off topic question; and his boldness. "Um..hah, no, I don't. Unless dinner with my cat counts?"

He chuckles lightly. "Well, would you like to go for a walk? Maybe grab a bite to eat? I have to grab some supplies from my lab before I head home for the night, but there's a fantastic sandwich shop on campus. And, if you're interested at all, maybe I could show you what I...what we're working on?"

You smile, and take a moment to consider. You open your mouth to answer, but before you can say anything, the water heater beeps obnoxiously. You turn to shut it off and fix the latte Jayce ordered. When you turn back around, tea in hand, he's looking at you expectantly- hopefully. "I'd love to," You say. "Here's your tea. I need to finish closing up, but I can meet you outside as soon as I'm done?" Jayce nods.

"Oh-" he reaches for his wallet- "What do I owe you?"

"Nothing," you shrug. "It's my free shift drink. I figured I'd save it for you." His shoulders drop, relaxed.

"Well, that was very thoughtful. Especially since I'm basically a stranger." He holds your gaze for a moment, then heads for the door. 'See you in a minute?"

You nod, "See you in a minute." He steps out of the shop, bell chiming as the door swivels. You stare at him a moment longer- he fiddles with something on his wrist, and leans against the window- before setting to work. There isn't much to do, but you rush through your tasks anyway, hands shaking with excitement. You were going on a date. With possibly the most drop-dead-gorgeous stranger you've ever met. Don't fuck it up.

You hang up your apron, your hat, and grab your keys before stepping out the door yourself. You look over at Jayce, who's watching you with an expression you can't read. You smile to force the anxiety out of your chest. It doesn't really work. "Hey, you."

"Hey, yourself," He jokes back. You try to steady your shaking hands as you lock the door, key's jingling. You shove your hands in your pockets as soon as you're done.

"Ready?" You ask him. He nods, then sips his tea. "It's a short walk over this way. Honestly, I pass your shop every day. I can't believe I've never stopped in before. It's lovely, though. I love how you decorated it." You laugh dryly, and he looks down at you quizzically.

"Um...it's not my shop, really," You say sheepishly. "Poe's the owner. It's just I'm the only one he can afford to pay. But, you're right, he does have excellent taste. Which is probably why he picked me." Jayce chuckles, and takes another long sip of his tea- and only now does it strike you as a little odd that he ordered a hot drink in the middle of summer. To each their own, you suppose.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have assumed."

"That's okay," you shrug. You look around at your surroundings, trying to find something to talk about. Jayce beats you to it.

"I've seen you drawing both times I've come in. Are you an artist?"

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. His brows furrow, waiting for an answer. "Uh...I mean, not really. No. No, I just paint as a hobby." That seems like a normal enough answer. Jayce seems satisfied with that.

"Maybe you could show me your work sometime? I thought your sketches were very good." You feel your face burn with embarrassment. You'd hoped he didn't see your shitty napkin scribbles.

"Heh....you saw those, huh?" You rub your neck sheepishly. Sheepish. What a weird word. "Well, maybe one day. I guess it's only fair, if you're showing me your lab. But, I'm no Valdiani. Don't get your hopes up." You look upwards to meet his gaze- you're not short by any means, but Janna's winds this man is tall. You decide to poke the bear. "How tall are you?" He looks slightly taken aback, but not offended, thank goodness.

"Six foot seven. I know, I know, I'm basically a yordle." He snickers.

"Damn. How many times have people asked you if you played basketball in high school?" You joke. You're tall for a woman yourself, but nowhere near as gargantuan as him.

"Hah-hah," he mocks. "I did wrestling actually. And swim. And soccer." You quirk an eyebrow at him.

"And the debate team and innovators club too, I guess, right?" You tease. You're not sure it's normal to tease someone you just met this much, but somehow it feels easy with him. He rolls his eyes, comically.

"No.....Just the innovators club. And maybe the chess club. And the student council." You snicker at his humblebrag, and he smiles down at you again. "C'mon. We're almost at the restaurant." He makes a right turn, dropping his (hopefully empty) cup into a nearby trash can, and you follow close behind him. When his hand drops to his side, part of you wants to grab it- but you resist, hoping that maybe there will be more of that in the future.

[villainsview]

Chapter 7

Country Roads...Sorta

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“W-where are we going?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, finishing tying his wrists behind his back with a proper knot.

I’d spent most of the day packing up and figuring out what to do. In the end I decided to wait for the cover of darkness. Allard was blowing up Jack’s phone, but it would probably take a while before he would send anyone to come looking.

Just before nightfall, I’d taken the kid out to my van to get him ready for ‘transport.’ Normally I’d drive to a random road just close enough to civilisation for them to not get in trouble before kicking a hostage out of my van and speeding off, but if I freed Erick before Allard’s all clear, it would only be a matter of time before he would get his hands on him again.

I had to tell his father how to get away from him first. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too busy to see me about his missing son. I shook my head a bit as I tied a blindfold over the teen’s eyes. If he was rich enough for Allard to demand millions, wouldn’t he have paid up already? Why wait almost two weeks?

Whatever, it wouldn’t be my problem anymore soon. I finished with two strips of tape over the boy’s lips to keep him quiet, in case he would get any ideas near a populated area.

“Lie down over here,” I instructed, guiding the boy to lie in the corner behind the passenger’s seat, so he wouldn’t be visible from any of the front windows.

I stacked my bag and some other bags next to him, obscuring him from view even further. I double-checked he was properly hidden, standing outside of the van as I lit a cigarette, peering inside, but I could only see my bags. I nodded satisfied, glancing over at the farmhouse a last time before getting behind the wheel and driving off.

As I drove back into the city, I noticed it was about time for the hourly news broadcast on the radio, so I quickly tuned into a more local station, so it would be more likely to hear something relevant. And sure enough, as I raised the volume, I immediately heard the kid’s name.

“...but even after today’s investigation, there is still no news about Erick James’ whereabouts. On a similar note, two days ago another teenager, Thomas Wong, was kidnapped from his family home, but police have ruled out any connection with the James case. Thomas’ family is desperate—”

I switched the radio back to my favourite jazz station, smiling smugly as the last part of the news alert seemed like the media had moved on from Erick’s case. That meant less heat and prying eyes on my back. But I wasn’t fully out of the wind just yet. I’d be at risk while I was in the city, but I couldn’t leave before handing off the boy.

I pulled into the parking lot of a superstore that was just about to close, turning off the engine before turning in my seat to look at the teen in the back.

“Not a fucking peep from you. Deal?”

The boy quickly nodded, shuffling a bit uncomfortably, before staying still and quiet. Satisfied, I got out, locked the van, before lighting another cigarette and beginning a walk to a nearby neighbourhood.

The houses were big, their yards and driveways even bigger. The gates were closed and the walls were high, so it was nearly impossible to get spotted by any of the residents…if they were even home. It was hard to tell.

I walked up to one of the houses about halfway down the street, only to find the gate blocked off with yellow police tape. I raised a brow, approaching the gate and peering through the bars at the house. All the lights were off…

“You another one of those true crime geeks?”

I turned around, finding a young woman taking her elderly dog for a walk.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“True crime?” the girl said, “First the kid disappears, now the dad…these wannabe podcast hosts have been coming here all week, thinking it’s some mysterious case…”

“But it isn’t?” I asked.

“Mr James was a fraud,” the girl said, “his lies caught up with him and he ran. I saw him rush away in the middle of the night.”

“What about the kid?” I asked.

“Probably dead,” the girl said with a shrug, “probably better that way.”

She moved on, her dog slowly following. I looked back at the house and sighed, checking the time on my phone before opening my contact list and scrolling down to the R.

Tito Rana was a frequent client of mine, a very generous one, but only because he considered us friends. He was a powerful kingpin in the Western states, and could even give Allard a run for his money, though last I heard he didn’t have a lot of territory in Phoenix anymore. Still, it would be worth a try. I pressed a dial button and held the phone to my ear.

“Fetch!”

I was a bit surprised at how quick and how loud he picked up, but I quickly recovered, keeping my voice down to avoid suspicion from any other neighbours.

“Evening, Tito,” I said, “I’m not bothering you?”

“Not at all!” Tito replied, “I was actually meaning to call you, but I wasn’t sure which timezone you’d be in.”

“I’m in Arizona,” I said, “anyway, I need a favour. Some information on a guy.”

“Oh? Having trouble with your hunt?” Tito asked, “I’m sure Jonas can arrange something—”

“Let’s not bother Jonas just yet,”  I quickly said, I hated that guy, “I’m working a ransom job right now, and the guy that’s supposed to pay up went into hiding. I’ll need your help to track him down.”

“Doesn’t your client usually handle all that?” Tito asked, “Why ask me?”

“Because Allard is a dick— Can you do this or not?”

“Of course I can look around for you, but would you mind doing something for me in return?”

“Name your price,” I said with a sigh.

“One of my couriers has been pocketing small amounts of merchandise and with that relatively large amounts of money, poor soul thinks I wouldn’t find out, so why don’t you pick up his daughter before he spends it all on her college?”

“How old is she?” I asked. I usually refused to go after younger girls, didn’t want people getting the wrong idea.

“Nineteen, I believe,” Tito said, “we actually have her on file because she bought a fake ID from one of my people to get into bars, you know how they are.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, “it won’t take too long, will it? Also where to?”

“Not at all, Fetch. Either he’ll pay up immediately or I’ll allow him to strike a deal. We don’t want to see the girl hurt, we just want to scare the guy straight,” Tito said, “besides, if I wanted to do some damage I would’ve sent Jonas instead.”

I rolled my eyes. Fucking Jonas again.

“Anyway, this’ll be close to home if you don’t mind the drive back to California, I’ll give you some time to recover from the journey before sending you further details,” Tito said.

“I’ll have to think about it,” I said, “I’ll call you when I get home and then we’ll discuss those details.”

“Of course, of course!” Tito said, “safe travels.”

He hung up, so I put my phone away and sighed deeply, lighting another cigarette before beginning my walk back to the van.

“So,” I said, getting back into the van after getting some snacks at a gas station, “let’s go over the rules again. You won’t talk, not to anyone, and not to me unless spoken to. I’ll give you a baseball cap, you never take it off unless I tell you to. You do not leave the van, until I let you out. Understood?” I turned in my seat to look at the teen in the back of the van.

He nodded timidly, backing away slightly as I got up and climbed into the back, though he quickly settled as I began removing his restraints. I cut his ropes off and removed his gag, looking at his wrists.

“Keep your hands down too, we don’t need people seeing those bruises,” I added.

“Y-yes sir…”

“Atta boy. Now try this on for size.”

I reached into the plastic bag I brought back from the gas station and pulled out a cap, tearing the price tag off before giving it to the teen. He looked it over for a second. It was faded orange, as it had already had too much sun exposure, but he didn’t voice any complaints and put it on after adjusting the velcro strap on the back a bit.

“Okay, you can come sit in the front now,” I said, returning to my seat.

There was a moment of silence, before I could hear him slowly shuffling behind me, hesitantly he slid into the passenger’s seat, flinching as I reached over to pull the seatbelt around him.

“Relax,” I said, “there’s some water in the bag at your feet, you should drink some. It’ll be a long drive.”

“C-can I ask—”

“No,” I interrupted, putting on my own seatbelt before driving off.

We’d barely left the city or the silence was already boring me, so I turned on the radio.

“Ah, Sinatra, my favourite,” I said, “you like jazz?”

Erick glanced at me, but didn’t particularly answer.

“You don’t have to like it just because I do,” I said, “come on. What do you listen to?”

“U-um….hip hop…r-rap, mostly,” Erick said quietly.

“Rap?” I repeated, “I guess it’s almost poetry, if it wasn’t so screamy or mumbly— It’s always one or the other…”

“Jazz is calming, I guess,” Erick quickly said.

“Do you know anything about jazz?”

“N-not really, sir…”

“Now, that’s the best part,” I said, “you don’t have to know anything. You just have to sit back and enjoy.”

I turned up the volume a bit, but Erick seemed rather uncomfortable still. I couldn’t blame him though. I could imagine it was very awkward for a teenager to make casual conversation with the guy that kidnapped you.

Whatever, it would only be a six hour drive, give or take a few rest stops. I made sure to stop only at places that didn’t have any buildings nearby besides a toilet building. I wanted to minimise the risk of being seen before arriving home.

I’d never taken a hostage home before. Normally I’d call it a classic rookie mistake, but I didn’t really have much of a choice right now. I made sure to arrive in the middle of the night, long after my landlady and downstairs neighbour had gone to bed.

She was sweet, but much too nosy for her own good. I rented the upstairs apartment of her building in Mission Beach; a shabby little building, just a block away from the beach. I was surrounded by small shops, tourist traps and bad B&B rentals.

There were new faces in the neighbourhood every day as one tourist made way for the other, while the locals simply didn’t care enough, they probably thought I was a repeat tourist, if they bothered to recognise me at all.

But not Ethel. No, she asked me about my work trips, kept my place dust-free and my fridge free of mould by tossing my perishables whenever I was away for a long period of time. If she spotted me walking inside with a kid she would be all over him with questions.

I even parked a couple feet away from the building instead of using the driveway to avoid waking her up. It opened up a flight risk for the teen, but I’d rather take that risk than Ethel. Besides, he seemed exhausted. He wouldn’t try to run now, would he?

I turned off the engine and turned to him, catching him hiding a yawn.

“You can rest soon,” I said, “first we’re gonna go for a little walk, and you’re gonna keep your head down and your mouth shut. Anyone asks any questions you let me do the talking and you just nod and smile. Understood?”

“Y-yes sir…w-where are we?”

“No questions,” I replied, undoing my seatbelt and getting out.

I walked round to the passenger’s side and opened the door for the teen, waiting for him to stop fumbling with the seatbelt and get out. I locked the van, leaving my things in for now, and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder to discourage any attempts at running.

He tensed, but stayed close to me as we walked down the street, up the stairs next to the driveway, and only pressed himself against the wall a little while I fumbled with my house keys, before opening the door and pushing him inside.

He anxiously looked around while I flicked on the lights, but there wasn’t a lot to see. The front door opened into a small sitting room, which I used more for storage than for seating as half the couch was covered in boxes. Straight ahead was an opening that led into a narrow hallway, with a bedroom to the left, a bathroom to the right, and a kitchen right across. But where would I put the kid without him being an inconvenience or trying to escape?

“Here. You gotta eat something,”

I displayed the last couple leftover snacks on the table after sitting the teen down in the kitchen. But the boy turned away, facing the wall rather than me, fumbling with the cap in his hands after I finally allowed him to take it off.

“I’ll eat when I get home,” he said.

“You’re far away from home now, it’ll take a while,” I reminded him, “you want anything else then? I don’t have much, but I can fix something up I’m sure.”

“...no beans?” Erick quietly asked.

“Fine, but only because I don’t have any anyway,” I said, “you know beggars can’t be choosers.”

I searched my cupboard, cursing the rusty latch that was only really installed to keep the door from swinging open because it had no other locking mechanism. I found a can of ham and a dusty box of pasta shells. If I could just find some canned tomatoes or even a jar that wasn’t expired yet I could make a decent sauce, but as I looked around I knocked over a mop or a broom, something wooden that clattered loudly into the unused space of the cupboard.

It was a bit of an unusually deep cupboard, because it connected with the built-in closet in my bedroom, separated by a piece of plywood as far as I knew. It wouldn’t be ideal, but if I cleared some stuff and the shelves, I could fit a spare mattress in there and lock the kid up for the night.

But first food. I found canned tomato puree. I could work with that. It wasn’t my best work, but it wasn’t for me anyway.

“Just see how far you can get,” I said as I served the sad plate of pasta, giving him a dessert spoon to eat with before making myself some coffee and sitting down.

Erick was taking small bites, chewing slowly, keeping his eyes on his plate.

“You close with your father?” I asked, purely out of curiosity.

“He’s always busy,” Erick replied after a moment of silence, “we never talked much…even before mom—”

He promptly shut up and took another bite. I decided to let it be and get to work on emptying the cupboard, clearing a place to lock him up in so I could sleep in peace.

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[theoncomingchaos]

Que Siming x Jinbao Novel

So, the novel isn't fully translated yet, but the last update was pretty recent, so hopefully we don't have to wait too long.

I read the first couple of chapters (1-3), so if you are curious about:

-Jinbao x Que Siming meet cute & first impressions

Spoilers are after the cut

First Impressions: (Note that they are small children- Jinbao is 5!)

Jinbao: Jinbao is a lot like what we see when he is an adult. He is brave, a bit dumb, and genuinely a good kid that listens to his parents. He doesn't like to hurt other people, but he can lose his temper. That being said, he hangs out with a group of boys and the leader bullies him a bit. He is willing to face scary and dangerous situations rather than lose their friendship because he's afraid to be alone. Growing up poor in a rural area, he has a lot of experiences being outside, catching fish, playing in the snow, rough housing etc.

Siming: Siming was born prematurely and gets sick a lot. This is likely the source of his germ-phobia.He is the son of a great retired general who had Siming fairly late in life, so his father dotes on him and is very over protective. He isn't allowed to go outside of the estate, so he doesn't have any friends. He is highly educated and wealthy, but really frustrated at how everyone treats him like he's breakable. He knows how to play his dad to get what he wants and he has a mean streak. He will often start bullying when Jinbao seems too happy about something, but then if Jinbao gets too sad or threatens to leave, he will do something nice for him. (It's nice to see Jinbao does stand up for himself and doesn't take Siming 's crap).

The Meet Cute: Jinbao is bullied into crawling through a long, narrow hole to sneak into the retired general's estate. When he gets through, he is immediately found by Siming . At first, Jinbao thinks he is a girl (fairy), but unlike Xiaobao he actually asks pretty quickly haha. Siming is so excited to meet someone his own age, but the boy is really dirty, so he makes him take a bath and it's the BEST bath Jinbao has ever had. They go to Siming's room, and Siming tricks him into eating medicine which was baked into a pastry. Then, he gives him a sweet one and makes it into a game. After that, he shows off his treasures and Jinbao is amazed! So, Siming gives him a glass grasshopper. Jinbao's mama taught him well, if someone gives you something, you give something back, so he goes to the courtyard, grabs some grass and MAKES a grasshopper. Siming is amazing by it, so Jinbaoo offers to teach him. Unfortunately, Siming gets upset about the dirty grass and Jinbao tries to wash it in the tub which is filled with all the dirt that came off of him, so Siming gets angrier. Jinbao gets upset at Siming being ungrateful and tackles him.

Siming decides at this point that he wants to keep Jinbao forever because even if he's uneducated and dirty, this is someone new his own age who will play with him and treat him like a person. However, Jinbao decides he wants to go home after their fight. He goes to leave, and Siming calls for help. His dad comes and Jinbao begs not to be killed for sneaking in. Siming makes a cute face and asks his dad to make Jinbao his playmate. So, Jinbao is allowed to go home, his parents are talked to and paid, and the next day he is brought to be Siming's playmate.

Basically, this means Jinbao can't go home without his parents getting into trouble because they more or less sold him...

[imjunebitch]

channelers chapter four: you are in trouble

VERY LATE I apologize, buuuut new Channelers chapter! read all of channelers at @channelers-series if you want! or catch up if needed! hopefully the next chapter won't take as damn long! I have no excuse except burnout and giving myself too many projects :p

cw: references to abuse, homophobic violence/language, lesbian yearning squared, nihilist god, dumbass teenagers, really bad art, a very old meme, non-communicative lesbians, profound loneliness, florida, and colm. fuck colm.

"-and you learned in high school that prayer helped a tiny bit. But no, you're right, we need to go back a tiny bit don't we. Okay, we can, we can do that. Because it's important to understand that the visions never did go away. Not visions, even, because they had real, lasting effects. And so you prayed to God because you thought you were supposed to. And that did help. Less attacks, anyway. Panic attacks, psychotic episodes, you didn't know.

You would draw these complex designs on paper, anything you found, on your skin if you had a marker. And that fucking helped a little didn't it? And the kids said you were weird and quiet and didn't you hear about what happened to Johnny, Lisa. Right well, see that kid over there, yes, the one doodling, well, that's his cousin. Crazy fucker. Worships the devil maybe. Anyway, Johnny disappeared after he went out alone in the woods a couple years back with his cousin.... Sounds fucking suspect, don't it. And that was a couple years ago but ▇▇▇▇▇ was never the same. Fucking spooky ain't it.

And that was part of why you left the Greek Orthodox school for middle school.

Middle school was rough but it always fucking is. And people liked to pick on you and hurt you but mostly you found a crack to hide in but you still never slept because every dark space had it in it, and your brain gave it the face of a goat but it had no face, you knew that, and that was so, so scary. So you started praying. You didn't believe in God, of course, but sometimes it genuinely is easier to do something than nothing, isn't it. Anything at all. Because. You knew you weren't alone, and you wanted to feel not alone in a good way too.

At this point you thought evil was demonic in nature. You stupid bitch. You fucking dumbass. So you got really really into Christianity. Again, dumbass.

You didn't know that God didn't give a fuck about mankind. That you're a fucking repository for what He wants. That your species is a tool. God needs you, not the other way around. Pray away, He isn't listening!

But I did need you, ▇▇▇▇▇. No. Fucking listen. Okay? You're the goddamn exception! You are important! Stop fucking looking at ▇▇▇▇▇'s body!

Hey, eyes up, now. It'll be okay. I know you don't remember any of this, there's a reason for that, I'll get to it, don't worry! You're not going to bring ▇▇▇▇▇ back by staring at her like that, so pay attention.

People still didn't like you very much in high school, but being the crazy fundie was better than being the 'school shooter waiting to happen,' in any case. Your parents were just glad you were involving yourself in something. If you'd become a fascist they'd have said thank God she's into politics now, and not spending her life doing nothing. And there was a little community in being the crazy fundie too. Some chap named Thomas found your faith admirable, and some popular girl started actually talking to you and being nice to you. And you humans have some strange thing in your society....Well, look. You wanted to shtup her, alright? It wasn't a secret to anyone but you. She knew, for sure. And her animal brain thought it was hilarious to string the shaky, sweaty, nervous little girl along. Oh, but you thought you were just so excited to convert her!

Well she invited you over to her house, you know the drill, you started talking about how much you.... Ah, God loved her, and how you were excited to be her sister in Christ, and how deep your Christian love for her was... Dumb. Ass.

She caught on pretty quickly, and you were shocked and overjoyed when she grabbed your shoulder, but the joy left when she hit you. And then she hit you again. And again. And again and again and again. Because for some reason some of you animals are concerned with what category of your kind others wish to shtup. She had seen a love in your eyes, and she cared enough that she would have beaten you to death.

You were crying, she was yelling, she was calling you names that you had never even heard and then it was like you were an insect being pulled apart. And you reached your hand out and grabbed her face and, in your terror, you commanded her head to explode.

And, ▇▇▇▇▇, in that moment, as you stood there shaking, and crying, and dripping with her blood, wishing you were dead instead of her, I was standing in a hospital sixteen years prior, holding a baby, viewing it's future, and deciding that you were the one. Ahriman was dead, and so it had to be y-"

~~

Yig loved Sunny the wrong way, and she even knew it in her heart, but not enough to really do anything about it.

An Elder God was supposed to love their priest, of course, and protect them, and cherish them. But they weren't supposed to serve them, not overtly anyway. It was meant to be the other way around. But Yig fucking loved her priestess and would do anything to serve and help her. Shit, more than anything it was liberating to worship someone. Yig wasn't supposed to do that to anyone, ever, but she had her fucking faith and she had decided that if Sunny could follow the personal religion of Indulging A Hungry Snake God, she could follow her own religion of Making Sure Her Friend Was Safe.

God, self reflective was not a thing she was. At least not well. Yig finished the crayon she was eating and stood up.

Piloting Sunny's body was the closest she got to physical contact with her now, but that was okay, obviously, because it meant that Sunny had someone looking out for her at night, while that Hot Fucking Bodyguard covered the day. So Yig hugged herself a lot and pretended it was Sunny hugging her. She was in the library right now, which was big and dusty and frankly not a lot of use to her because it was full of books, and Yig had no interest in reading. She'd read a little more earlier, when she and Sunny had just worked out the body thing, to be able to write letters better, but writing pissed her off. She knew she wasn't a good writer. She preferred drawing, not that she was any good at that either.

Yig thought about what she could do tonight. She thought about going on a run maybe, that sounded nice. But first, Sunny had written her a letter the day before, and she had been saving reading it for a couple hours.

She sped out into the Hallway, hoping to avoid Colm, and towards Sunny's room. It took a while to get there, big fucking house, but in time she was sitting on Sunny's bed, holding a letter in her hands written in neat, small handwriting, and smiling like a dork.

Dear Beloved Goddess (wow that makes me sound like a simp, haha):

Thank you for writing! I love reading your letters so much! You've gotten really good at spelling, and although you're not exactly even trying to punctuate, that's okay, haha. It's clear enough what you mean.

I hope you got my prayers! (that is a joke, I know you did :D) I am not certain as to whether I am "fumbling" Imani ( that is the name of my bodyguard she is not just a piece of meat you weirdo >:0) but regardless, I think that is the best thing I can do. It would be wrong to enter a relationship with someone who is my subordinate! That would be a manipulation of power. She is dependent on me! Not cool.

Anyway. I got a hunter construct sent after me, and Kai and Luci did as well. I think it's possible that someone is trying to kill us, but I don't know who! Just be on the lookout while you're puppeting my body! ( I know you already are, with Colm and Dad. And thanks for that always, for protecting me. I love you.) Just be careful, we're not sure what the hell is going on but I want you to be safe!

Give yourself a hug, it's from me! And kiss your ring finger, that's from me too! I love you, my divine serpent lord :P

-Your Most Favorite Cultist <3

Yig could feel herself smiling, and she followed the instructions, hugging herself, kissing her ring finger, and feeling pretty silly. She was an Elder God! Come morning, Sunny would enter her own body again, and Yig would be a giant fucking serpent in the dreamlands, a God in a God's flesh. It was something about wearing a person's body, repeatedly, every night, for so long... It made her think like one sometimes.

"There are worse things to be..." she muttered to herself out loud, and then she giggled, because there was scarcely anything more human than talking to yourself. Humans were cute. In general. Colm and Sunny's dad certainly weren't, but her, and her friends, made humanity seem pretty cool to Yig. There had been others, of course, in the past, but it was best not to think of people from before. Or you ended up mourning generations of friends and lovers, unknown by anyone alive. Yig didn't think about that though.

Instead, she tried to get changed with her eyes closed. Sunny always reprimanded her for not showering in her body, but the truth was that Yig was vaguely uncomfortable with the idea. She didn't want to feel like she was over Sunny in any way, and she wasn't very comfortable with seeing her body. It felt weird. Yig dressed how she liked, sleeveless shirt and baggy shorts, sunglasses, yes, at night, like the song... She found herself humming the fucking song, it was stuck in her head now. Awesome.

Yig realized, a bit late, that the letter she had just read implied that someone was out to kill her Sunny. This filled her with fury, and she was a little abashed at having not realized it prior, when she had explicitly stated it. She decided to keep that firmly in mind and collect as much information as possible for a future letter. She checked a clock.

Christ in heaven, it was only 9:35. Sunny had gone to bed early, leaving Yig with an abundance of fucking time to wander mindlessly around the property, alone, save for Fucking Colm. Out there somewhere, probably, because he always fucking was. And now she wouldn't even have an excuse for not showering, beyond the actual one.

She got up and walked towards the door, and saw another note taped to it.

Enjoy your run <3

She smiled, and shook her head bashfully. She liked Sunny a lot.

~~

Yig stretched, because she was supposed to do that, to keep her body and flesh operating correctly. She wasn't very good at it. The yard was huge, a sprawling field she could run down with her eyes closed for a few minutes without having to worry about running into anything. Which she really loved doing! It was her favorite.

She kept stretching, and realized that doing this wasn't very helpful. It just kinda made her sore. And Sunny as a result. Which made her feel bad. The yard was expensive, with tall grass. Bordered by thick forest, and swamplands that became mosquito breeding grounds in the spring and summer. Florida was perhaps not the most beautiful place Yig had ever been in, but it was far from the most humid, or the most filled with insects. And at least it cooled down at night here, by God. Keeping things like that in mind was what kept Yig happy and content.

Yig shut her eyes, or rather Sunny's eyes, and began to run.

There was something so damned contemplative about that, running with one's eyes closed. It was like high-risk meditation. Moving like a machine, without knowing or caring where you were going, wind swirling around you, existing as a being of pure motion, pure kinetic energy.

These were the reasons that Yig ran with her eyes closed at least a couple times a week. This time, it was good, and wonderful, and nice, for about a minute, and then she sort of slammed headfirst into what she thought was a brick wall, before she opened her eyes. And it was Colm. So yes. Practically a brick wall.

Yig snarled in rage, clambering to her feet as the human shaped tendon stared at her blanky.

"You bumbling fucknugget," Yig muttered. The man just stared blankly.

"Let it be known," she continued "That I dislike you a good deal. I think you suck balls. You friggin lick testicles. I dislike you, you fuck. You bully Sunny for your dumbass brother, and you stare at me like a creep, and stalk me. How can you be so massive and so quiet? Are you fucking batsman or whatever the hell they call him? Fuck you, fuck batsman. Why the fuck do you listen to your brother anyway?? Elder Gods eat their siblings as larvae."

Colm somehow made a lack of movement an action. He was pointedly still.

"Okay," Yig conceded. "So that was a lie. Elder Gods aren't really born... Any siblings we have are strictly metaphorical. So yes, I lied, I'm a little liar girl. I'm a lying snake. You make a decent point."

Colm, who had made no point, at least no intelligible one, just stared at her.

"Regardless, the point does stand. Letting your bro boss you around is pussy shit. Also, messing with Sunny is friggin barbaric. She's the sweetest girl ever, y'all should be ashamed of yourselves."

Yig squinted at Colm. He didn't look very ashamed. He didn't seem to have blinked either more moved much at all.

"I mean, dammit dude. What the hell are you even doing out here?"

Colm did respond to this. His lips parted slightly, and he quietly and affably said, in his unusually smooth voice, "My duty, Yig."

He turned and began walking back to the house. "No other answers, you fucking asshole?" Yig hurled in his direction, stand frozen with her fists tightly clenched. "Bastard! Still no real reason for why you fuck with Sunny? Get the fuck back here!"

If he heard her, he showed no sign of it. Yig huffed aloud, spinning on her heel, and walking back towards the house.

As she walked, she looked out at the street, and saw a hunched figure watching. She squinted at it, but it turned heel and fled.

~~

The next clock Yig read said that it was only 10:09. Yig was unreasonably angry at this point. She thought about maybe drawing Sunny a picture. She knew she was an awful drawer, but Sunny always seemed to appreciate her efforts. Who could forget such masterpieces as

this is what I feel a sense of without you (Yig, 20▇▇, green crayon on construction paper)

or

were best fucking friends btw (Yig, 20▇▇, green crayon on the back of a tax form)

Seminal works of her time. She was considering getting some paper and drawing when she heard quiet crying coming from Imani's room, just as she passed the door.

She leaned down and pressed Sunny's ear against the wooden door. It was definitely either sobbing, or high, panicked breathing coming from the other side. Yig briefly considered her options. Going in there would be weird, but leaving her there, crying... She would feel like a monster. And she wasn't stopping, or anything like that. Yig knocked on the door quietly. No response.

"Shitting shit," she muttered to herself, and she opened the door.

Imani was curled up on her bed, eyes squeezed shut, face wet, sobbing in her sleep. A nightmare, or something. It happened. Living like most Channelers did was incredibly stressful, trauma kinda came with the territory.

Yig sat on her bed, crouching over her body, and she tapped her on the shoulder. "Yo," she whispered. "Beefcake. It's alright, you're having a nightmare." Imani's eyes snapped open, and she stared at Yig for a long while, thinking she was Sunny, and then remembering that she wasn't. Yig could tell by the way that she looked at her with first a strange sense of duty in her eyes, and then a sudden coldness following her realization. Yig might have been upset, but it meant that Imani clearly had some sense of affection towards Sunny, so she couldn't be too mad. She got it.

"Thank you for waking me up," Imani said curtly. "I apologize for disturbing you." Yig smiled. "No problem, dude. Bad memories, huh?"

Imani seemed to weigh the benefits of honesty and deflection for a moment. She appeared to choose honesty. "Yes," she admitted. "I've seen a lot of shit, you know. And... I did fail a charge. Once. Significantly." She looked at Yig, and must have misinterpreted the curiosity on her face for apprehension, because she hurriedly added "Once. It won't happen again. It certainly won't happen in service of your priestess. I'm... Fonder of her than most of my charges."

Yig grinned at her. "Just goes to show that you have good judgement, beefcake! She's pretty fond of you too."

Imani frowned. "I'm... well aware. I assure you that I don't intend to abuse my position. Our relationship will remain... Well, no, I think I've already overstepped professional. So, friendly then." Yig shrugged. "She just likes having people who care about her," she said, not entirely dishonestly.

Imani nodded. "Okay. I can do that," she said, in a tone of honest candor. "I'm probably not going to fall asleep," she added. "It's only, what, 10:30? I imagine you don't get out of the house much, Miss Yig. Would you like to paint the town red?"

~~

As it turned out, Imani's brand of painting the town red was coffee at the Denny's a little ways into town. That was alright by Yig, she hadn't been sure what to expect anyway. Imani was a real gentleman, drove her there, made small talk, immediately clarified that she would pay for her... Which was good, because Yig didn't really have money, or any way to get money...

Coffee kind of sucked. But it was an experience, and Yig was fine of experiences. It tasted bad. And it felt bad. But she drank of it deeply.

Imani was watching with a detached, amused expression. "You can wait for it to cool down," she said quietly. Yig nodded. "Ah. That makes sense." She drank again, not thinking, and then hissed in rage.

There was a waitress in the Denny's. Yig thought she was pretty. Her flesh was old and rotting a little. She smoked. She had some underlying health concerns, and she was only fifty, but she was incredibly sweet and Yig liked her.

There were also a pair of teenagers a few booths away. One was much louder than the other. He had long brown hair, pimples, and he was wearing a dirty sleeveless white shirt. His eyes seemed to be perpetually half-lidded. He had a little stubble. He twitched and moved angrily. The other was a little more androgynous. Maybe a guy, maybe a girl, maybe neither, maybe both. They had longish, slightly greasy hair, and olive skin. They looked paranoid. Deep eyebags, wide eyes.

"...i saw the fuckin' devil man, fuckin' telling you, can't fuckin' go home, man," the quieter teen said, in a hushed rasp. Their voice seemed to be intentionally lowered and gruff. The louder teenager scoffed. "You didn't see the devil. You're a stupid loser asshole." The quieter teen shook their head. "fuckin' saw it, you asshole. fuckin'. horns. in the dark. fuckin' body's spreading like a rash in the forest." The louder teen laughed. "Yeah. Satan's coming to pull you to hell. Cause you're a faggot."

The quieter teen frowned heavily. The louder teen cocked his head and grinned. "I mean, you're cool though," he said, a little awkwardly. "I like you. I'll fight the devil. Faggotry nonwithstanding." The younger teen frowned, and muttered something petulant like "your faggotry is nonwithstanding."

The louder teen laughed again. "Shit. Wanna go to the bowling alley? Ray can get us some shit... Glue or paint thinner or some fucking shit." The quieter teen nodded. "okay. fuck. i just wanna be fuckin'. around people."

They looked to the side, eyes wide and paranoid, and they made direct eye contact with Yig smiled, and they blushed slightly, and hurried out behind their friend.

Imani looked at Yig, tilting her head. "The kids aren't alright, are they." Yig smiled. "I dunno. I think that one'll be alright. Maybe not though." Imani shook her head. "I don't think they will."

Yig drank her coffee and winced in pain again. Imani smiled slightly. "You don't like coffee, do you?" Yig weakly responded with "Thank you for buying it for me-" and Imani giggled, which was kind of cute. "Give me your coffee too," she said, shaking her head. "I'll get you something you like."

"Soda."

Imani shrugged. "Deal. Weird as hell talking to an actual god like this. Buying a god soda." Yig outstretched a hand and spread their fingers apart, crossing in the air. "Thank you, my servant," she said teasingly. Imani glanced at her shyly, and she smiled back at her.

"Thank you for taking me out, also, beefcake. I don't really get out of the house very often. And I don't see many people. I like seeing you." Imani smiled shyly again. "Thanks. I'll probably usually be asleep. I don't get nightmares often. It's just... A few years ago I did something I'm not proud of."

Yig waited expectantly for elaboration, and Imani seemed to consider elaborating, but all she eventually said was "I let someone down." And then she shrugged, putting her mug down and starting on Yig's coffee.

"Trust me," Yig said, "I get it. I've let a bunch of people down. I mean I've lived a long-ass time. I've betrayed, lied, killed... and I'll still be around, remembering everyone that I ever let down, by the time the Qlippoth consumes earth."

Imani stared at Yig with a completely blank expression. Yig chuckled quietly. "You have no idea what the Qlippoth is, do you!" Imani shook her head sheepishly.

"You must not talk much to many sorcerers! Shit, get Kai to explain it to you sometime, all i really know is it's a REALLY BIG Old One that's spreading inwards to devour everything. You'll probably be dead by the time it gets here though!"

Imani shrugged. "Everything I learn about the universe scares me more."

~~

Yig got her soda, thank god. The two sat together and drank in an oddly comfortable, familiar-feeling silence. Yig admired Imani's strong arms, and the loose dress she had hastily put on before leaving. Sunny better bag this chick, genuinely. The waitress busied herself quietly, and Yig decided that, having tasted both, she preferred root beer to human blood, as far as tributes went.

After a while, Imani paid, and the waitress called Yig "sweetie." Which she liked. Yig called the waitress "hot stuff" in response, which the waitress seemed to dislike, but Imani found funny. Then Imani led Yig out of the Denny's, staying very close to her, moving like a bodyguard instinctually. Looking in every direction. It was sweet how protective she was.

Imani drove the ruined car home. On the way, Yig thought she saw a figure out of the window, following alongside the car at high speed, from a distance, but as they drove through the woods it disappeared entirely from sight, and she decided it might be unrelated.

By the time the two of them were back in the house, it was two in the morning. The two walked into the hallway where their rooms were. Imani turned stiffly towards Yig and said "Thank you. For keeping me company on a rough night." Yig smiled and said "Thank you, for letting me go out of the house for a bit."

Imani nodded. "My pleasure. I think I'll try to get some shut eye." Yig sighed. "Alright. I'll be Sunny in a bit. So... Bye for now!"

Imani smiled. "Bye for now," she repeated.

The next five hours were profoundly lonely. But Yig reminded herself that it was worth it.

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 10: Troubled Water

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

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

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

Song Inspo: Bridge Over Troubled Water — Simon & Garfunkel

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

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

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Series Masterlist

Oh, when darkness comes

And pain is all around

Like a bridge over troubled water

I will lay me down

— Paul Simon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Black Water.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just never really put two and two together.

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

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

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

A skill you had yet to fully master.

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

And you certainly did your best.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yet, you found the opposite to be true.

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

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

“Hi.”

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

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

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

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

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

Stifling an endeared smile, you answered.

“My name is Silvey.”

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

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

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

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

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

You confirmed. “I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

The reasoning you presented then should do, you presumed

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

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

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

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

You hummed contentedly at the memory.

“They are quite wise, aren’t they?”

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

Time to take a new approach, you decided.

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

“I guess,” he mumbled indecisively.

Your brows skeptically raised as you probed his response.

“You guess?”

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes crinkled in serenity.

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Mas—“

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

“Thanks, Silvey.”

You offered a soft smile.

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

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

“Yes, it’s quite nice here.”

You faced the black-haired Initiate.

“And usually very quiet.”

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

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

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

And, for a moment, it was calm.

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

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

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

“How old are you?”

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

“That’s a secret.”

“Why are your eyes silver?”

“Family trait.”

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

“Gray.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get….”

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

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

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

“…help” you croaked.

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

Then, his alarmed gaze exploded in recognition.

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

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

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

“I can do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

From the Order itself.

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

Until it wasn’t.

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

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

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

But none of that ever happened.

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

But this was no ordinary haze, it seemed.

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

And no idea for how you got there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Decidedly, you needed to find a way over there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An instant immediately stolen.

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

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

“This is gonna be a problem.”

—

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

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

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

All to receive critical orders.

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

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

Thank the Maker that was no longer the case.

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

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

You.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Master Kenobi!”

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

He tilted his head inquisitively.

“Yes, youngling? Is there something wrong?”

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

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

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

The Guardian, in need of help…

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

Something must’ve been seriously wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Petro,” the youngling sniffled.

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

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

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

The black hair boy nodded.

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

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

“I hope Silvey will be ok!”

And Obi-Wan certainly agreed with him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you feel my hand?”

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

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

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

“If you can call it that, yeah.”

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

“Tell me what you see.”

“I’m…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Silvey…” he spoke lowly. “You hand.”

“What?”

“It’s red.”

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

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

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

“That’s really not good.”

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

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

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

That he had to do something.

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

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

But for the Galaxy itself.

For Qui-Gon.

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“It appears you could use a hand!”

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

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

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

Your brows furrowed in bewilderment.

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

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

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

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

“I sense a great darkness there!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And just in the nick of time too.

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

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

Temporary.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can certainly try!” He exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is not gonna end well…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt awfully guilty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“Now they’re eating the bridge!”

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

Because you had faced them alone.

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

Until now.

With this danger unlike any other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You need to jump—“

“—You need to go.”

His jaw tightened.

“I’m not leaving you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Focus on my connection to the Force—“

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

“—And repel the shadows.”

But it was hard to sense his meaning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An aura so intoxicating, that you took a bite.

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

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

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

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

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

And that was unacceptable.

You needed to move.

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

“Jump!”

And, so, you did.

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

You jumped.

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

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

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

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

But that darkness never came.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You need to let me go.”

His bewildered gaze snapped toward yours.

“Absolutely not!”

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

His eyes softened.

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked.

“Silvey?”

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

You were back.

But something felt…

Off.

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

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

“What is going on here?”

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

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

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

Master Windu eyed you critically. “What happened?”

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

Your mouth opened disjointedly, yet no words came out.

“Master Kenobi, what’s going on?”

You reached for your head.

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

Weightlessness.

“Woah woah.”

Warmth.

“Youngling, fetch us a Healer—“

“Silvey, can you hear me?”

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

“Silvey?”

End Part I: Rescue of the Fates

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At First Glance... Part I

A fanfic inspired by this post:

https://www.tumblr.com/eternalremorse/751163260305342464/at-first-glance-it-started-off-rather-simple?source=share

... 5.2K+ words

Chapter 1 >>> Chapter 2

...At the New Fifth Year

It started off rather simple really.

At first glance, he only noticed the new fifth year with her unorthodox late arrival for sorting. While he was indifferent to the girl being sorted into Slytherin, he still clapped in support of his house.

The next time he saw her was later that evening in the Slytherin common room long after she vanished when Prof. Weasley wanted to talk to her.

He already had some notion of the person from the bit of rumors spread:

The new girl fought a dragon.

The new fifth year had a ministry escort.

I've heard she’s been homeschooled with Prof Fig as their tutor and that's why she never came to Hogwarts.

Out of all the rumors, the last one made the most sense to him. It wasn't unheard of for parents to homeschool their child in magic if they had the means. Sebastian met those sorts of people before. Most were rich and snotty despite having less fame to their family name like Ominis or money like the Blacks but still had the ego to match.

They were a type he had no pleasure in befriending.

It's that new fifth year.

Can't imagine starting a new school this late.

He noticed the new student from the corner of his eyes as she entered the common room. Everyone at the entrance paused to look at her like she was a unicorn in the wild.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and decided to return to his reading. Unfortunately, he noticed the new fifth year decided to make her way towards him.

Hopefully, they'll go somewhere else. He thought.

However, the moment she was close enough for him to see that she actually wanted to talk to him, he placed his book down with a sigh.

"Can I help you?"

The new fifth year froze before frowning as if he was a professor who had reprimand her for asking too many questions. Sebastian could already see the gears in her mind turning, as if thinking, he's not worth the trouble knowing. Her step back was another proof to his best friend’s statement that he should watch his tone.

"You're become snappish as of late and rude to those who don't deserve it, Sebastian." Ominis told him once before.

"Did you see the way she just waltzed in at the end of the Sorting Ceremony?"

He frowned as heard the whispers nearby. The new fifth year was an enigma everyone wanted to know, a unicorn everyone wanted to see.

And all he saw in front of him was a new peer that had that had that similar look of a lost first-year in her eyes.

So, he decided to rectify his earlier tone before they bolted like a unicorn at the sight of unworthy people. Before she made a poor judgement of himself.

"-ah! You're the new fifth-year." He said with more cheer than what he would usually hold. "I'm Sebastian Sallow. Welcome to Slytherin." He smiled, wondering if he was literally the first to welcome him to their common room with how people talked.

"Thank you." She smiled as he heard another whisper in the room.

They're lucky they didn't end up as dragon food, like that poor man from the Ministry.

The new fifth year winced. It was a micro-reaction, but one he easily caught with the years of living with Uncle Solomon and the need to know his moods for his own sake.

If there was one thing Hogwarts was known for, it was for people talking about others, but never directly asking the source. Ominis can attest to that with all the gossip he gathered like the chocolate frog cards.

And Sebastian wasn't never above asking questions others were uncomfortable to do so. Plus, he was curious as well on what rumors were true. So, he asked them in a sentence that wasn't a question, but a leading statement:

"Not everyone has a Ministry escort to school."

"He’s a friend of Professor Fig's who merely joined us for the ride. Was." The new fifth year sadly smiled.

"Still - impressive. Dreadful way to go, poor fellow." While it didn't explain how the dragon came into play, from the pained look on her face, Sebastian thought best to end this topic. "Glad you and Fig are all right."

But it seems like the new fifth year didn't mind at all as she give a tidbit about herself and Prof. Fig being lucky to escape. While he wasn't able to ask more –not with that distressed look on her face when she responded how much of a blur it was after asking her how they escaped– it seems like the new fifth year took a shine to him as he answered questions about the book he was reading before asking about spells not taught at the school before he bid her adieu as she planned to know more of their year peers.

He couldn't help but to smile as she left to meet others with a bit more confidence in her steps.

That small conversation with new fifth year -MC, as she called herself- told him a few things off the bat.

The new fifth year wasn't a rich snobby kid. He was still on the fence about her being homeschool though.

The girl wasn’t afraid to talk about her recent trauma nor did she try to make herself seem grander for living through it.

She had a curious mind that seem akin to his.

And finally,

4. MC didn't seem to have the same reservation about magic like the others.

A kindred spirit after all. Sebastian thought to himself, still smiling as he returned to his book, spirit lighter than it had been before. Especially with the knowledge that there would be plenty of chances to interact with the new fifth year.

...

Those chanced interactions came quicker than expected.

The first being the duel he lost to the new fifth year. In front of the whole class.

The girl was quick with a wand, treating their battle as if it was a dance and the casted spells were a beat they moved with. He couldn't get in one shot.

Not one.

Worse, she timed her protego perfectly so that it was his own spell that did him in, ricocheting off her shield and knocking him off the dueling platform and onto the floor.

While he should have been embarrassed, should have been upset at this shocking defeat in front of everyone…Sebastian couldn't help but be impressed at her unusual fighting style. He wasn't even angry to see money pass between hands for bets lost with Prewett winning most of it.

No. He was interested in her.

He had to know more about the new girl.

And that’s how he ended up vouching for her to joined Crossed Wands.

The first and only person he ever vouched for.

...

If he thought seeing her fight in Crossed Wands was impressive and fighting with her was a joy, fighting side by side with MC against a troll was magnificence.

They moved like one mind, each covering the other's back, their time as partners in Crossed Wands coming into actual use now.

That seamless dueling partnership ended when the troll knocked him out.

He woke up moments later, to a buzzing feeling that surround his body. The air felt heavy with otherworldly magic and static that made the hair in the back of his neck and arms to stand as a flash of lightning blue surrounded him.

Sebastian was just able to lift his head in time to catch the tail end of MC’s solo fight with the troll as a magical blue volt stuck the creature with a BOOM!

The light was so bright, he had to close his eyes as the struck spell shook the ground.

Then everything was quiet.

The next thing he heard was the quick footsteps and her worried voice saying,

“Sebastian are you alright?” as she kneeled next to him, the smell of her orange citrus perfume greeting his nose.

“I’m fine…just give me a moment. I have a bit of a headache.” He mumbled. Headache being an understatement. It felt like a troll had clobbered him…which to be fair, had happened.

“I have some Wigglewend if you want.” She stated.

“Yes please.” Sebastian mourned, unconcerned as to why would she be carrying one around, just thankful that she did.

“I’m going to help you up. I rather you not die from choking on your healing potion after surviving a troll attack.” she teased.

“Haha very funny.” He moaned, head already aching from just listening.

Her hands were callused but soft with him as MC helped him up to lay against her lap. MC handed him the open vial of the green healing potion. Sebastian drank it as quick as he could, not a fan of the bitter taste the potion would leave on his tongue.

Yet, he was less of a fan of an oncoming concussion.

Between the Wigglewend doing its magic and MC’s cool hands on his forehead, Sebastian soon found himself finally pain-free and could open his eyes to see his new friend’s frown and worried eyes greeting him back.

“Why the sad face MC? It will take more than a troll to take me down.” He snickered, feeling even better when he saw her smile despite the roll of her eyes.

“Can you blame me? At first glance, I thought the troll killed you.” She croaked, voice tight and eyes bright with a shine that spoke of tears held back.

“Can’t abandon my dueling partner now, can I?” He smirked.

When he came to sit up, with MC supporting while apologizing for not watching his back, Sebastian saw that there was no troll body to be found. The wind took away the sudden pile of ashes that appeared in the center of their fight.

He glanced back to MC.

There was a nervous smile on her lips and apprehensive eyes that met his. They soon became frighten and her smile fell when she realized he connected the dots.

MC had vanquished the Troll. That there was not even a body left for said being.

Seeing them wield a different type of magic, one that made the very hairs on the back of his neck and arms to stand as they disintegrated the troll should have scared him. Should have told him that trouble found MC like moths to a flame. Should have made him back off from getting closer to the new fifth year for his own sake.

Most students would.

Sebastian wasn't like most students.

Instead, he found himself more mesmerized, a need to know more about this new person. So, he invited her for a butterbeer. Merlin knows his new friend needed one with how her fingers shook holding him.

Then it turned out that apparently, she already made enemies with Ranrok, Rookwood and Harlow. The latter two even demanded for new fifth year when the criminal pair found them in The Three Broomsticks.

Hot anger filled him.

They vanquished a troll when he was taken down, he'll defend them until his last breath here if it came down to it. Sebastian felt a need to protect his new friend he made in the short day they spent together.

With Sirona's silver tongue though and the pointed wands of the clientele, thankfully his dueling skills wasn't needed. But Sebastian found himself keeping an eye on his new friend ever since then.

MC needed someone to look after her.

And Sebastian wanted to know more about her, hoping that his mysterious new partner would finally explain what really was going on in the future.

Hoping he’ll have another chance to meet with them outside of Crossed Wands and class.

Hoping that they still wanted to meet him and be friends as they bid each other goodnight after arriving back late to Hogwarts and split ways.

...

It turned out that chance came in sooner than expected.

Days later after the Troll Takedown –as Sebastian liked to call it– the only moments Sebastian had spent time with his new friend was either in class or Crossed Wands (where the two of them would take on trios and possibility quartets at the rate they were going).

Then his opportunity arrived.

A chance to talk about things outside of school or dueling. A chance to be mutual friends.

While Sebastian had thought of MC as a friend, he wasn’t too certain that he was hers…

“Sebastian, there you are!” MC said as he whipped his head up to greet them.

…until now when she found him in one of the main halls. He was sitting on a bench, reading another book he ‘borrowed’.

“There you are!” He grinned before putting his book to the side with the cover down as he stood up to speak with them. “You promised me an explanation for what happened in the Three Broomsticks.”

Turns out, the more questions that were answered, the more questions he had about his mysterious new friend.

But the one thing that stuck out to his mind was the fact that she trusted him with each secret behind her late arrival. Secrets that not a soul outside of them and Prof. Fig should know. Secrets that he was now privy to.

“Understood. Your secret’s safe with me. Whatever it is.” He nodded.

Secrets that he would now be a part of as he led his new friend to the library and helped her sneak into the Restricted Section. He guided them while making light banter, feeling gleeful on the inside with each positive joking remark she would throw back. He had trouble keeping a blasé too-cool-for-school mask on with each second she spoke.

Everything was going fine until Peeves came along.

The mask broke.

“Let me handle it.” He said too quickly to pass for suave. “I have a way with the faculty when it comes to disciplinary matters. Besides, I like having friends who are in my debt.” He grinned, hoping it would be enough to calm that nervous look in her eyes.

Hoping that she’ll trust their nascent relationship enough that he can pull it off and keep them out of trouble.

“Now go. Good luck in your search.” He even threw in a wink for good measure. Sebastian had a reputation to maintain.

He then left to play damage control.

MC had his back last time. He’ll have hers this time.

It was the reason why it was a painful no brainer to take the fall when he got caught. Painful because he could only hope Anne would cover for him once the disciplinary owl was sent home and keep it away from their uncle. A no brainer because he didn’t even need to think twice about covering for MC.

Dueling partners always had each other’s back. Friends, even more so.

He could only hope she would be able to succeed without him as the librarian led him away from the Restricted Section towards certain doom.

...

Sebastian got a standard detention. The faculty, too accustomed to his unannounced presence in the restricted section saw nothing out of the ordinary with the usual, ‘you’re better than this’ or ‘think of the stress that you’re putting your family though’. While the first comment rolled off his back like dragon to fire, the second statement struck a bit too close to home for his comfort.

While Sebastian didn’t care for what Solomon thought, stressing Anne out was the last thing he wanted for her. At least in his next letter to her, he can at least mention with no doubts that he made a new friend like she wanted him to. The only thing out of the ordinary for this detention was a letter sent that morning that stated that he would serve detention with Prof. Fig tomorrow.

Curious. The only thing more interesting than this letter is what class does the new fifth year have today. I hope I have another chance to see her. Sebastian thought with a frown as he bit into his buttered toast. A late straggler to breakfast due to his midnight rendezvous, Sebastian was quick with his meal before making his way to his next class.

If there was a deity that listened to his prayer, Sebastian will make it a mission to know their name. Especially with the opportunity the class seating provided for him as he watched from his station the new girl walking downstairs before greeting the professor.

“Class, please welcome the newest rose in our garden.” Professor Garlick said as she introduced the new fifth year.

Sebastian stood tall, hands clasped together in front of him as he eyed his new friend, hoping they’ll look his way and notice that there was an empty spot next to him.

MC looked at him and smiled.

It was as if his world had tilted as she made her way to him and took the empty spot next to him. Nothing could bring him down. Not even the screams of the mandrakes as they repotted them or other heavy garden-tending activities they needed to do in order to maintain the plants and securing ingredients for potions for future usage.

How could he be down when the newest rose next to him laughed at his jokes before throwing a few of her own in for good measure. She even thanked him for his help last night with their “late night reading session” at the library. Sebastian wasn’t sure when was the last time he smiled or laughed this much before.

It was the best Herbology class he had in a long time.

...

Potions on the other hand, seems to become his least favorite class ever as he watched Weasley become buddy-buddy with his new friend.

Surely his jokes weren’t THAT funny.

Sebastian couldn’t help but glare at the red head, who didn’t even bother to acknowledge the detestation he was giving. He couldn’t help but sigh when MC finished speaking and left to go to the storage room. It was only then did he bother to focus back on to his own potion –whose color was becoming too blue for his taste.

So focused on preparing and then bottling the potion, he didn’t notice MC stopping by to talk to Weasley or see the delighted grin the boy gave to her. Or the ingredient that switch hands between the two.

Sebastian didn’t notice that anything was amiss until he heard the usual worried voice from Weasley that meant DANGER.

When Sebastian looked up, he saw sparks and fireworks fly out of Weasley’s cauldron as his station mate –Natty and Samatha Dale– ducked and threw their hands and arms over their heads to protect themselves from whatever effects Weasley’s mishaps could have.

Sebastian glanced back towards MC and couldn’t help but smile as he saw her pout shift to a frown as she watched the chaos that naturally came to Weasley.

Maybe that will teach her that Weasley isn’t as fun as she thinks he is. Sebastian thought with a cocky smile.

All was right in the world as Professor Sharp indirectly called out Weasley’s accomplice to answer to him. That’s when that frown on MC’s face turned into a grimace.

Unlike Weasley, at least I know how to keep her out of trouble. Sebastian thought with a frown as he watched MC slowly march towards Professor Sharp with a bottled potion to turn in for grading in her hand and a wince on her face.

The color of the potion she brewed doesn’t seem too far off from the intended goal. He thought. MC shouldn’t need to worry about it being judged too harshly for her first day…unless it was her…but she couldn’t…not with Weasley of all people!

Sebastian never had the chance to know it was her, not with his attention needed on the potion he was brewing and then helping out Ominis with his too. It wasn’t until class ended and MC still hadn’t left the room along with Weasley did Sebastian realize two things later on that day.

He realized who Weasley’s accomplice was

While he just became friends with MC, Sebastian wasn’t the only friend MC made.

That last fact was made clear when at dinner, instead of making her way to her house table, MC elected to sit with Natty and Weasley with a bright grin. Laughter came from the three and Weasley somehow managed to make MC laugh even though he got her into trouble.

Sebastian wasn’t jealous.

Not of Weasley of all people.

...

Chapter 1 >>> Chapter 2

[backtothestart02]

FANFIC TAGGING GAME

I got (honorable) tagged by the wonderful @theartofdreaming1- thanks!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? - 321

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,322,068 words (at the moment)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Still writing for The Flash, but every once in a while a new show/movie grabs my fancy and I write a few fics for that.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

An unimpressive bunch but here goes: Muse (456), Replacement Scrunchie (393), Fallen Star (357), Inconvenient Inspiration (343), and Drabbles (277). Muse is a handful of one-shots based solely off spoilers before I saw the eps they were for. Replacement Scrunchie is my sole fic for the TATBILB fandom about Peter & LJ's first date (which was way less impressive than what the sequel movie gave us, WOW). Fallen Star is my most popular westallen fic to date, so that one's actually not too surprising. But both Inconvenient Inspiration and Drabbles are requested (the latter) and spontaneous (the former) brainstorming ficlets and snippets for The Flash/WA. Bo-ring.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Eventually.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh, gosh, I have so many unfinished fics that it's hard to remember the complete ones that I finished that didn't end so happy, of which there aren't many. Maybe...Breaking Point though.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All the others have happy endings. Go read them. Lol.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

When I wrote for another fandom I did, but not really in The Flash fandom, which is nice.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yep. And uh...descriptive, I guess? I'm def not the best out there, but I do my best and for the most part smut-lovers seem to enjoy.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've attempted a couple crossovers, but I haven't completed any or gotten far with them, usually because there wasn't an audience for it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah, I discovered a whole bunch on another website years ago.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

In the process of it!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Stuck on Westallen atm, but I used to write Chair, and I was highly obsessed with them as well.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh god, I have SO MANY WIPs. One that I really want to finish but fear I won't though has got to be He's MY Barry Allen. I'm just stuck on what the next chapter will look like, and as of yet no one has come forward with a solution. Lol. The Problem is Tony Woodward is another one like that.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'd like to think I can hook people into my fics fairly well and drop enough cliffies to keep them coming back for more. But ofc the smut helps too. Most of my fics include at least some smut, even a single scene.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sometimes I have trouble making a chapter (or a scene for that matter) all that long. I've seen people write like 10k+ for a chap, and unless I'm crazy inspired, roughly 1-3k is what you're getting.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I actually dabbled in this a little bit for a westallen fic where Iris was learning Italian, I think? I did some research and managed to sift in enough for that one-shot, but I can't imagine I'd do it repeatedly or for a multi-chap.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I believe it was the STAR WARS prequels, but it might've been The Day After Tomorrow.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

It's unfinished, but there's so much untapped potential in my Flashpoint fic. Lots of world-building that's present as it rides the line between canon divergent and AU. Hopefully one day I'll get back to it.

...

As much as I'd love to tag a bunch of people, I can't recall anyone who still writes fic that I follow on here, so I'll just shout out my bestie @simplylove101 who is prob done with writing but may want to answer these questions either way!

[scribblytrash]

forgot to update it here but chapter 4!

(long burnout made this one later than planned n it’s a bit shorter as well but hopefully the next one gives me less trouble 🤞)

[lunapwrites]

I've gotten into the habit of doing my "next month at a glance" readings on the last day of the month. Kind of as a closing ritual of sorts. Cleaning house, preparing for the new, etc. I feel like this approach is nesting together rather nicely with my attitude towards... well, everything right now. Planning, reorganization, going into the day with my eyes wide open. I hate surprises.

So, my readings for the month of August came out with a theme...

Runes:

Gebo - a gift. Ehwaz - travel, or transformation. Kenaz, reversed - an ending, creative fires blocked. (Rude, tbh, I have a fest piece I'm trying to finish by the end of this month lol. But valid.)

Oracle deck:

Another two-card draw. Again, change and discovery.

Finally, the tarot reading:

I'm still having a bit of trouble understanding how the major arcana slots into the elemental dignities, and there doesn't seem to be any kind of clear consensus on this so I'm just kinda going by vibes rn.

The way that this spread is currently set up reminds me a lot of the little elemental models in my chemistry class in college, with the suit cards forming the molecules and the major arcana cards forming the bonds - in this particular case, the term that jumps to mind is a covalent bond. They feel very strongly connected in all directions.

Eight of Wands is kicking the door down and demanding action. Wheel of Fortune supports this idea: this chapter is done, and I need to turn to the next.

Four of Pentacles is a little warning that I need to get rid of things - literally, things. The trash cans and donation bins are about to be my best friends. The time to do this is now, not later. But there's also an element of security here, too. I'm in a good spot, I don't need all that other crap.

Strength is reminding me to keep a firm grasp of my emotional responses to things - which are many, and varied, and intense. Channel them appropriately. I've been doing really well with this I think, so... more of that. And then there's the Page of Cups, which speaks to a lot of creative potential brewing for this month. I've got a few things I'm trying to get completed and posted this month, so... Hopefully I manage that.

The fact that there's this much pointing towards creation tells me one of two things: either the creative block indicated by kenaz is more of a speed bump than a true block, or I'm not going to wind up working on what I want, and will instead end up creating something else entirely. Only time will tell.

...All I know at this point is that if I don't get chapter 19 of LTL out by this month I'm literally going to scream. XD (I'm supposed to be going on vacation next month but it's with my partner's entire family and will likely be less relaxing than I'd hope.)

[sugiwa]

Fan on Counterfeit Hearts and want to say I really love how you are building Penny's character. She has a rare quality that makes her actually feel like a One Piece character.

A lot of times I find that OCs miss that whimsical/fantastical nature that also feels grounded and not adverse with the world, there is often a feeling that there is something "off" about them. But with Penny, I feel you have really nailed the feeling of her belonging. Not super for her being absolutely connected to all the factions that are the 'good guys', I liked it more when she felt more disconnected and her relationship with the revolutionaries was more of occasional alignment then her more or less being an informal member, but its something I can accept because it kind of fits.

I will say though that I really hope you have Ace still die. While the obvious desire to have him live exists, his death is just such a critical thing that I don't think you should remove it. More over, I think it would be great for Penny's character, as well as Sabo's now. It would have Penny failing to save someone she wants to save, and would be a real kick in the but to start actively presuming her dream and power which she has kind of put on the back burner. And as for Sabo... well, we didn't really get much of how it impacted him since it was all flashback and what was the cause of his memory returning. But since you have him and Ace having reunited, I think the angle of "Sabo was the one who lived while Ace was the one that died" is just something you can't not explore with his character, because its the exact opposite to the reality Ace and Luffy thought were reality. There is just to much thematic and story meat there to just not do it because you want Ace to be alive and happy. "Kill your darlings" and all that.

Either way, really love your story and looking forward to where you take it. I would leave this comment in Ao3, but I don't have an account there, so this has got to be the next best thing.

Thank you so much! We still have a lot more to go and unravel about Penny, so hopefully, she'll remain a character that continues to grow. I really didn't want her to be too *serious* as we've seen really strong characters do stupid things all the time in OP, but at the same time have some sort of grounding. Penny basically identifies as a Pirate, so she'll very frequently try to negate good deeds with petty crimes.

As for the Revolutionary Army bit, Penny doesn't really like meet up with them or even consult them about anything. It's more like sometimes she'll encounter something she thinks would aid them and send it their way and a lot of the time that'll be people. She can't really take them on her ship because she doesn't want to 😂, so she'll throw the responsibility to the RA. Other times its information (she also sends reports to Shanks frequently, which we'll see in an upcoming chapter.)

For Penny, it's more about making sure her friends are safe and that their dreams also come to fruition, rather than about the Revolution, which she doesn't really believe in. I think that scene where Bard Lucy is talking to Dragon pretty much sums up Penny's exact opinion on what they're doing.

We'll see more regarding this because there is some tension between her and the RA. Especially given her old New World ties and relationship with Morgans (let's just say she fans the flames of chaos when it comes to some of his 'journalism').

As for Ace, though I frequently split my opinion between saving him and not saving him, the strongest narrative path is to have him die. I totally agree with everything you say here and given then path that Penny's on right now, it'll bring so much more character development to her story. One of the other things is that Penny very frequently escapes by the edge of a knife from serious trouble and while she's survived thus far like that, there's going to be an eventuality where her strength fails and that's when we're going to see what she's really made of. Can she pick herself back up or will she fall into that failure and let it consume her?

Also, the angle of Luffy being someone Penny has always protected. We saw it a bit on Foosha where she sees a little kid all on his own and kinda assumes the responsibility of watching out for him and now he's all grown up and she can't really protect him from the world anymore. It something she's going to struggle with when they reunite, because her urge is to shield him from it, but Marineford will completely upend that and it's going to be a breaking point for all of them.

But, then they've got these dreams of being Pirate King and telling the World's Greatest Story, so they have to really grasp life by the hand and not let go of it.

Lol, now I'm making myself depressed thinking about it.

Thank you so much and I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!! You can definitely drop an ask in my inbox at anytime. It's always a pleasure to hear what people think about the future of the story and the way it's playing out.