#i can barely think i can’t make decisions my memory and recall have gotten so much worse

[barley-st-band]

hey does anyone know how we’re supposed to survive it all. asking for a friend

[potatoes-is-are-food]

Made For Each Other [Part 1]

~4500 words (I may have gone a little overboard I just really love poly erasermic)

Yandere erasermic x reader / soulmate au 

| NSFW warnings: noncon, threesome, vague threats of violence

I’m gonna be putting this into parts (I’m thinking around 3?)

The first few weeks had been especially bad. Waking up with a chain connecting you to the floor in a bed that wasn’t yours in clothes that weren’t yours had been terrifying. You’d been scared of your captor, Shota Aizawa, to the point of tears at first, but now you were sitting on a barstool in his kitchen watching him make dinner.

“Hizashi is coming back tomorrow. You’ll have to get used to him being around, too,” he said, capturing your attention away from the book he’d given you, “He’s loud and excited to see you, but I’ll try to keep him calm.” You nodded when he looked at you, turning back to adjust something on the stove. You weren’t allowed all the way in the kitchen yet, but he said if you behaved you’d be able to soon.

“Wait, Present Mic? Why is he coming here?” You asked when he didn’t elaborate.

“He’s my husband,” he answered flatly. You furrowed your brow, but didn’t question it out of politeness. You nearly laughed at yourself aloud, worrying about being polite to someone who literally kidnapped you.

It had been on your way home from work. You got off the train at your usual station but much later than usual, having to stay late that day. Walking home didn’t seem too dangerous since you lived in a safe area, but that had been a terrible decision. Before you could process what was happening someone had come up behind you, dragged you into an alley while you kicked and attempted to scream, and been shoved to the pavement.

You’d taken some hard hits from your assailant when Eraserhead saved you, tying the guy who attacked you to the dumpster and scooping you up just as you lost consciousness. The newspaper you’d seen the other day said you were missing and there were no leads. There was a separate article about how a vigilante had tied some petty criminal to a dumpster but he still died from his injuries. How convenient.

Realizing you’d been staring at the same page for several minutes, you sighed and closed your book. You set it on the counter and leaned back, boredly swinging your legs and listening to the music Shota had put on. You didn’t recognize it, but every now and then he would hum along for a second.

He set a plate in front of you and handed you a glass of water, watching you carry both to the couch and taking his own to join you. It had become a routine in the last week that you’d both sit on the couch together and he’d put on something to watch while you ate. It was an unspoken agreement that you’d talk to him if he wanted and he wouldn’t touch you or stare you down.

You glanced at him, settling into the cushions and trying to relax. He still made you nervous, but he hadn’t done anything to hurt you, just threatened to chain you up again if you tried to get away, which you hadn’t. He scared you way too much to try before you knew you could get away with absolute certainty.

He settled on some sit-com you knew he didn’t care about, signaling he’d want to talk today. You moved your food around with a spoon (he wasn’t allowing forks or knives yet but also used a spoon in solidarity), waiting for him to say something. He didn’t.

“It’s good,” you said softly, fidgeting a bit awkwardly. His intimidating presence chilled you, making you want to subdue anger he probably didn’t even have. You quickly added, “Thank you.” He grunted in response, shuffling slightly closer to you.

“Y/n, eat all of that and drink all your water. I’ve been lenient until now but you’re going to have to eat more and stay hydrated now. You’re going to have rules now,” he said sternly, sliding your glass a little closer to you. Obediently you took a sip and another bite of your food, letting him continue as you chewed,

“You’re sleeping in my bed from now on,” he took a sip of his drink nonchalantly as you looked away, feeling blood rush into your face. The most he’d touched you was to pat your head a few days ago and that had made you jump. He continued, unaffected by your flustered disposition,

“I wanted to give you more time first so I won’t get mad if you slip up, but ‘Zashi coming home sooner than planned changes things,” he explained softly, bringing his hand up to stroke your hair. Your breathing sped up and you resisted the urge to get up and run.

“Why…” you breathed, finally looking at him with tear-filled eyes. One spilled down your cheek and his finger gently caught it, wiping it away.

“You can’t see it, but I’ve got a red string on my wrist attached to you and Hizashi. And he had our names on his arm. Didn’t you notice yours before now?” He arched a brow at you, watching as your eyes widened almost comically.

“I…” you thought back to when you first could see colors. You’d been young, only 12 when you’d been saved by Present Mic, but in all the chaos of the villain attack you couldn’t tell who was the cause and you were too young for it to matter. Your second mark was on the back of your neck, a timer counting down to when you’d meet your other soulmate. Since you couldn’t see it and had been preoccupied the past several weeks, you’d forgotten how close it was to hitting zero.

“We’re all made for each other, kitten,” his face had been slowly approaching yours as you’d had your epiphany, now centimeters away. More tears fell down your face, too shocked to move as he kissed them away. You couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him, unconsciously leaning into his touch. He placed another kiss to the very edge of your lips and a final one to your forehead before leaning back, taking the plate you were very close to dropping and setting it on the coffee table.

“B-but then why-” your voice trembled and caught in your throat. You choked back a sob, clenching your hands in your lap. You felt sick, the dinner your soulmate had made threatening to come back up. Your head felt fuzzy, like you’d been drinking.

“We had to, sweetheart,” he cooed, wrapping an arm gently around your tense form, “you thought it was a good idea to walk home alone at night, your job was stressing you out, and you wrecked your car not too long ago. You need us to take care of you and getting attacked was the perfect opportunity,” he pushed some of your hair out of your face.

You crumbled, sobbing and letting him hold you, so desperate for comfort that you actually clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and crying into his neck. You couldn’t see it, of course, but he was smiling as he swiped his fingers soothingly along the timer on the back of your neck that would be at 00:00 forever.

When you calmed down he handed you your water, rubbing your back as you finished it and leaving you on the couch to take the dishes away. You sniffled and let him pick you up, carrying you into the bathroom and getting ready for bed together in a daze. You even let him change your clothes, settling into bed pliantly as you figured out that he probably put sedatives in the food.

The next morning you woke to Shota’s warmth pressed against your back, an arm slung around your waist. You sat up, nearly falling over again groggily. You turned to look at him and saw his eyes open, locking onto you instantly.

“Hey there,” he husked, his morning voice catching you off guard. You pursed your lips, scooting away from him slightly,

“Did you drug me, Aizawa?” You crossed your arms, moving to sit on top of the covers and create some distance. He groaned softly, sitting up,

“Don’t call me Aizawa.” His reminder made your face heat up. He’d let you get by with awkward “hey”s and tapping his shoulder, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t be doing that anymore.

“Did you?” You press, voice a little softer in an attempt to accommodate him. He blinked at you, waiting. You relented, “...Shota?” His expression softened.

“I couldn’t have you running off. Besides, you needed a good night’s sleep. I know you’ve been tossing and turning,” he shrugged, stretching and standing up. You took his hand when he extended it to you, still a little “softened” by whatever he’d dosed you with.

He lead you into the bathroom he’d been having you use, completely idiot-proofed with no way to hurt yourself or anyone else or an escape route. And with all that he still made you keep the door open, doing stuff on his phone while you did whatever you had to do. You saw him pull up a messaging app as you entered, running the shower and stripping, shyly glancing at him often to reassure yourself he wasn’t watching.

When you got out he gave you something new to wear, an actual dress instead of one of their shirts. You didn’t question where he’d gotten it, simply thanking him quietly and putting it on when he turned around to give you the illusion of privacy. He hadn’t given you anything to wear under it, though.

“Um, Shota?” You called, looking everywhere but directly at him. He turned around, looking you over and giving your head a pat. You shuffled your bare feet awkwardly, “Can I have something to wear under it?” His hand rested on your waist lightly, eyes roaming your figure leisurely.

“I’ll have to go out and buy you some. Hizashi bought this a while ago when we figured out your identity,” he smiled, probably recalling a fond memory with his husband. Your other soulmate. You really didn’t want to admit it, but it felt nice that someone had been so excited to meet you that they’d gotten you a gift.

He made breakfast, insisting for the first time that you sit on his lap to eat. The day was mostly uneventful, you read and Shota let you make tea while he supervised. By six you were sitting at the bar in front of the kitchen, watching him chop vegetables.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the door open, Shota eyeing you to make sure you wouldn’t try to run.

“Babe?” You heard Hizashi call, recognizing his voice easily from all the times you’d listened to him since you’d been there and even before.

“In here,” Shota called back, still tending to dinner. You looked at him for direction but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care to give it. Footsteps sounded behind you and you spun in your stool, facing your other soulmate for the first time since he’d saved you as a child. He dropped his bags, keys, and a water bottle he’d been holding, jaw dropping as he stared at you.

“Sho you didn’t,” he breathed, and for the briefest of moments you thought he’d be against this and rescue you again, but that was not the case.

“Happy anniversary,” Shota appeared, pulling the blonde in for a kiss. Hizashi tore his eyes from you and cupped the other man’s face as he repeated the expression. They really looked in love.

“She’s even more beautiful in person!” He beamed, closing the distance between you so fast if you’d blinked it would have seemed like he teleported. He immediately pressed his lips to yours, holding you tightly as you weakly struggled, tugging his sleeves and making muffled protests against his mouth.

“’Zashi, calm down, I haven’t trained her and I’ve barely touched her,” Shota placed a hand on his shoulder and he pulled away, leaving you panting and slightly panicked in his grasp.

“Aw, come on, Sho,” he whined, continuing to hold you against him, “She seems like a good girl she probably barely needs any training,” his hand stroked your hair and he pressed his cheek against the top of your head. You gave Shota a wide eyed look,

“Trained?” You asked nervously, squirming a little in Hizashi’s arms. Shota’s tired expression morphed into something more devious, the corner of his lips twitching up,

“We need to be sure you’re not gonna run off on us, kitty,” he cooed, “We need to…” he paused, searching for the right word, “house train you, so to speak.” His tone made you nervous, shrinking into the arms holding you.

Shota pecked your cheek and returned to the stove, giving the food a stir and asking about Hizashi’s trip so casually you’d think he hadn’t just implied something sinister. Hizashi picked you up, sitting in your stool and pulling you into his lap as he chatted with his husband. You fiddled with the hem of your dress and vaguely wondered if they intended on getting a special license to add you into the marriage as they did for people with multiple soulmates. You really hoped things wouldn’t get that far.

A hand trailed along your thigh, massaging the soft flesh and making your dress ride up a bit. You shifted, pressing your knees tightly together and making sure it didn’t go too high as another settled on your waist, gently rubbing up and down, dangerously close to your breast. You were suddenly very aware of your lack of underwear, nipples pebbling and sticking out against the fabric. You shuddered.

“I picked this out for you, doll,” he said quietly, breath tickling your ear before he stooped and planted several light kisses on your neck, “Do you like it?” You writhed slightly, but stopped immediately when you heard his breath hitch and felt something stir under you.

“Please…” you whispered, trying to plead with him the way you had Shota, whose head snapped around to send you a look that had tears instantly welling in your eyes.

“Y’n,” he said, staring you down. You sniffled, brows knitting together as you fought a sob.

“It’s fine, Sho,” Hizashi said calmly, stroking your shoulder and kissing the top of your head, “sweet little girl just needs some guidance, isn’t that right?” his voice dripped condescension and he pinched your cheeks, chuckling lightly as his had whetted with tears.

Shota sighed, “Tell ‘Zashi you liked the dress,” he started plating the food, leaving Hizashi to comfort you. He seemed to enjoy the task, wiping your face and kissing your temple. You told him you liked the dress.

You let him dote on you, clamming up when his hands wandered to uninvited places. You were seated in his lap again in the dining room as you all ate, the two men making light conversation and Shota telling his husband how he’d kidnapped you and your progress from terrified mute to scared yet willing to seek comfort from your captors.

“She’s done well, overall. I think once we solidify things it’ll go even faster. We could probably start making wedding preparations by October,” Shota discussed you casually, like he was telling Hizashi about the weather. Like you weren’t there.

“Wedding...preparations?” You asked nervously, picking at your food with a fork for the first time since you’d been stripped of freedom.

“Of course,” he continued, giving you a slight smile, “you’re our soulmate.” They discussed plans to get you more clothes, making you tense as taking your measurements was discussed. When you finished dinner, Shota cleared the table and tended to the dishes, leaving you alone with Hizashi for some bonding time.

“And if you want, we could do a destination honeymoon,” he rambled, ignoring your borderline catatonic state as you stared off into space, sinking further and further into a mental space you didn’t understand. Wedding? Honeymoon? How long would it be before you’d be able to escape?

“You’re gonna overwhelm her,” Shota’s soothing voice came from behind. He patted your head when you turned to look at him, taking note of the way your eyes looked a little glossier than usual, “Come on, we should head to bed. You must be tired.”

Hizashi grabbed his bags, following as Shota took your hand and lead you back into the bedroom. You sat on the bed, yawning as you realized constantly being made to go to bed so early had you tired already. You expected them to toss you another big t shirt and a pair of sweats too tall for you, but instead Shota pulled you up so you were standing in front of them.

“Are we going to bed?” You eyed the dresser, unsure if they wanted you to choose or something. Hizashi snorted, working the buttons of his shirt open as Shota turned you around to unzip the back of your dress. He ran his hand down the bare skin of your back, sliding the fabric forward off your shoulders.

Your hands shot up, pinning the covering to your chest as your breathing sped up,

“Shota?” you looked back at him over your shoulder as he rubbed along your skin. He didn’t answer, pressing his lips to your shoulder and gently coaxing the dress down until it bunched around your ankles on the floor. Your lip trembled as you tried to cover yourself with your hands, arms crossing your chest.

“So pretty,” he murmured against your shoulder, sliding his hands up your sides and gently tugging at your arms. Tears spilled onto your cheeks as Hizashi joined, stripped to his boxer briefs, dropping to his knees in front of you. He kissed the center of your chest just below your breasts, hands settling on your hips. You shook your head,

“Please don’t,” you whimpered, “d-don’t look,” you crossed your legs, arms locked against your chest as Shota rubbed them, attempting to get you to drop them yourself.

“But you’re so beautiful, angel,” Hizashi spoke softly, trailing kisses down your stomach while Shota wiped your tears away and pulled you gently into a kiss. It was the first time you’d kissed him properly, and the sense of fulfillment that settled into your chest made you both gasp against each other, making you melt a little.

Hizashi’s lips trailed along your hips, not wanting to distract you from kissing Shota. When your mouths parted you felt warm, nearly sinking into his adoring gaze before remembering how he’d kept you chained, cold and alone as you screamed and cried in that room. He must have sensed your conflict, kissing you again before trailing down your neck and giving Hizashi’s jaw a little tap.

Lips departed your hips as the blonde stood, leaning down to kiss both your tear-stained cheeks and then your lips, the jolt from him significantly less intense thanks to him pouncing on you earlier. It still felt good, though, as much as you hated to admit it. His hands cupped your face and without thinking you placed yours over them. You felt Shota move lower, caressing your hips and kissing along your back, lingering where it dipped at your waist.

You squeaked, flinching away from Hizashi as you felt Shota’s hands kneading your ass, spreading and squeezing your cheeks. Your arms wrapped around Hizashi’s neck as you tried to wriggle out of the other man’s grasp. He chuckled, holding your hips still for his partner rather than helping. You whined, burying your face in his neck as fresh tears fell onto his skin. He rubbed a hand soothingly along your back as Shota continued, kissing and then biting the flesh.

You sniffled, breathing shakily and hard into Hizashi’s neck, fingers tangling in his loose hair. He shushed you like a child, hugging you close and nearly groaning at your breasts being pressed flush against his chest.

“Maybe we should’ve given her wine at dinner, Sho,” he said softly, brows furrowed as you sobbed softly on him, “She’s nervous, aren’t you love?” Gently, he pried your arms from around him, leaning back to look at you.

“She’ll be fine, taking both of us so close together will probably help a lot,” Shota stood, sweeping your legs and making you fall into his arms. He deposited you onto the bed, licking his lips and kissing you heatedly, lapping at the inside of your mouth. You groaned against him, holding onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself.

Hizashi tugged at Shota’s shirt, making him break your kiss to let him remove it. He straddled you, pressing his bare chest to yours and resuming his tongue’s exploration of your mouth. You whimpered, feeling him shifting atop you as Hizashi rid him of his clothes, placing a playful smack to his ass once it was bare. You felt his cock, hot and heavy, tap against your thighs, making you clench them together and sob against Shota’s lips.

He leaned back, wiping the trail of saliva that followed away, and crawled off of you. Settling behind you, he pulled you up into a sitting position so you rested against his chest, instantly grabbing and pinning your arms as you tried to cover yourself. He kissed your head, murmuring little praises as his husband pried your legs apart, settling between them to take in the view as close as possible. You writhed, Hizashi pinning your legs as you struggled, openly sobbing,

“Please don’t do this,” his face as he gazed at your twitching, wet pussy looked euphoric. He inhaled deeply, eyes rolling back at your scent.

“Sho, she smells good enough to eat. And she’s wet,” he smirked, swiping his finger along your slit and holding up the glistening digit for his accomplice. Shota groaned in your ear, trapping both your wrists in one hand and kneading at your breast with the other.

“Eat her, then,” he growled, husky voice making your back arched a little involuntarily.

Your soulmate obliged, not needing to be told twice as he closed the distance, flattening his tongue and smearing your juices up to your clit. You cried out, trying to wriggle away as he circled his tongue around the little bud. It was like he already knew how to make you tick, flicking his wet appendage along every spot that made you squirm and hitting your sweet spot the second his fingers penetrated you. In seconds you were moaning, tears drying on your face as you bucked your hips against him.

Shota flicked and toyed with your nipples, leaving your hands free. You reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging it as the pleasure continued to build. You groaned his name and then Hizashi’s, occasionally still babbling for them to stop. Your orgasm sent waves of the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt jolting through your body, making you writhe and cry out as your soulmate lapped up your fluids.

You started to cry again as he continued past the point of pleasure and into painful territory, fingers leaving black locks to pull at blonde ones. He groaned, pumping his fingers faster and harder into your throbbing heat and flicking his tongue harshly against your overstimulated nub. You came again, muttering incoherently as he slowed to a stop, leaning back and wiping his face with a satisfied grin.

“She’s so cute,” his hand trailed up your thigh, “You should try,” he told Shota, watching your cunt twitch and chest heave.

“Later,” you looked up to see him licking his lips and watching you heatedly. You shuddered, sniffling as he wiped away a stray tear. Noticing Hizashi watching, you closed your legs, sitting up and bringing your knees to your chest.

“Are we done?” Your voice came out quiet and coarse, a little shaky as your eyes continued to flood. You bit your lip, looking between the men.

“Not quite, kitten,” Shota’s lips pressed to your back, working up between your shoulder blades and sucking when he reached your neck. He left several bites and hickeys as his husband cupped your face, kissing you softly and slipping his tongue past your lips. You whimpered against him as Shota abused the sweet spot on your collarbone, one hand on your thigh and the other in Hizashi’s hair.

He broke the kiss, planting another soft one on your forehead, “How did you hold back so long, Sho?” he breathed, nuzzling his face against your hair and sighing happily as Shota pecked his lips.

“Wanted to let you go first,” he murmured, kissing him again before readjusting you to the same position as before, resting against his chest with your wrists in his hands, “go ahead.”

Hizashi pulled your hips forward a touch, spreading your legs with his knee and spreading his pre against your weeping slit. His tip against your clit made you twitch, back arching as he toyed with the sensitive nerves. When he’d finished he lined up with your entrance, pressing in slowly to avoid overwhelming you.

Your mouth opened and your eyes clenched shut, head falling back against Shota as he pushed in, inch by inch sliding in until he was buried to the hilt and his hair pressed against you. He groaned sinfully, humping shallowly as you got used to his size. A choked sob left your throat as he started thrusting, pulling out nearly all the way and sliding back in as gently as he could manage when your cries made you pulse around him.

“You feel so good,” he panted, “Good girl,” his thrusts got rougher as he leaned forward, tongue slipping into your open mouth and swallowing your half-pained half-pleasurable moans. Shota let go of your wrists, stroking your hair as well as Hizashi’s as he took in the sight. With your arms free you desperately clung to the man pounding you into his husband, crying against his lips and swirling your tongue against his in a bizarre attempt at seeking comfort from him.

Shota’s fingers intruded on your kiss, collecting saliva from both of you and making it drip down your chins before moving the slicked digits to roll circles into your puffy clit. You gasped at the contact, eyes opening and rolling back into your head as the blonde broke the kiss, licking up the tears lingering on your cheeks. His hips sputtered, lewd squelching noises reverberating through the room as Shota continued his assault on your abused bead.

You came first, back arching, tongue flopped out of your mouth, eyes half-lidded and rolled up into your skull, head braced back against Shota’s chest as you spasmed, clenching around Hizashi’s cock and milking him for all he was worth. He released deep inside, cumming directly against your cervix and rolling his hips to hump against you, riding out both your orgasms. As it subsided, you fell limply against your dark-haired soulmate, completely spent and feeling as though you were floating, disconnected from reality. You felt hands caressing your thighs, hips, and gently pushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

“...re so good for us,” you focused enough to take in their praises, still shaking as your cunt twitched and drooled Hizashi’s seed. You blinked a couple of times and saw him staring at it, reaching down to collect what was dripping and push it back in, making you whimper weakly. He licked his fingers clean and crawled over you to kiss Shota, both men shifting and gently readjusting you until you were pressed back against Hizashi’s chest. Shota settled between your legs, thumbs spreading your pussy apart for his inspection.

You felt fresh tears stinging your eyes, “Please… please no more,” you croaked, weakly squirming. He leaned down, kissing your inner thigh and inching closer to your fucked out hole.

“Shhh, kitten,” he gently licked up your folds, smearing Hizashi’s cum across your skin and making you flinch when the muscle flicked your overstimulated clit, “You can handle a little more for daddy, right?”

[eldritchqueerture]

Chapter 3: Songs We Sing

Chapter Summary: Jon debates whether to inform his assistants about what is going on, while grappling with the scary truth about his future, that the Archivist has presented him with. A decision is made for him, when a certain statement proves more dangerous than the archival staff initially thought.

CW: Elias Bitchard and his very own manipulation station, canon typical worms and associated descriptors, spiders, injury (glass cuts), unreality

Author's Notes: This one took longer than I expected but finally here we are! I'm still very excited about this fic so don't let the time between updates give you the wrong idea kdfjgkjijh god i have IDEAS Anyways, I gift to you this chapter and I promise you I am not speedrunning Tim's arc. Not even a little bit.

Work Summary:

Jon awakens with a tidal wave of memories that don’t make any sense. In an attempt to go on with his life, he searches for the cause of the turmoil in his mind. He knows, though, that something inside him is waking up.

Likes are greatly appreciated, but please consider reblogging so other people may see it! Thank you 💜

~~

The next months slip between Jon’s fingers like liquid, and before he can blink he’s staring at March in his calendar. It feels significant, strengthens his already high anxiety, yet he can’t figure out why. Nothing in the archives feels different; they’ve been researching and recording statements as normal. Bits and pieces of information slip into Jon’s brain, just to be swept away by the current of his memory. He’s gotten pretty good at differentiating real statements from false ones; they feel different and the real ones demand to be read out loud. Jon knows why that is even though he can’t quite put words to it. He knows a lot of things that way – vague hunches and feelings, but no real substance, no actual knowledge he can use.

That is one of the reasons he hasn’t explained anything to his assistants. The incident with Naomi Herne lingers over them like a storm cloud, and they’ve been asking about it at first, worried. Martin was the first to let it go, opting instead to go about everything as if nothing happened, for which Jon is, frankly, grateful. Sasha asked him twice, and has been observing him intently ever since, but Jon could deal with that. What he couldn’t deal with was Tim, who progressed from gentle concern to anger.

“Jon, for the last time,” he says, placing his hand flat on Jon’s desk. “Get it through your stuck-up head, I’m worried about you. You’ve been acting strange ever since you took this damn job, let us help , for Christ’s sake—”

“I told you it’s none of your business, Tim.” Jon presses his lips together. “Maybe you should put this energy into something more useful, like work.”

“God, you are impossible !” Tim throws his arms in the air with a look of outrage. “You can’t do everything alone! That’s not how life works!”

“I don’t recall asking your opinion on how I should live my life.” Jon’s voice is cold, and he stares into Tim’s eyes with drawn eyebrows.

“Fine!” Tim shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Maybe you’re a lost cause, whatever. I’m done wasting my energy.”

He turns around and the office door slams behind him.

Jon sighs heavily and hides his face in his hands. Tim’s anger feels familiar and right in some way; he knows he deserves it. Tim is right – he knows he can’t do it alone. He wishes he could tell them what’s happening, but he barely grasps it himself and he can’t come up with a way to explain it. They wouldn’t believe him, they’d just think he’s finally lost his mind.

He realizes the irony of that fear, and yet he can’t tell them. He doesn’t know where he would even begin, and he decides that he needs to understand, truly understand what’s going on before he involves anyone else in it. Especially if it’s dangerous – and Jon has a feeling it is going to be, if it isn’t already. Perhaps ignorance can shield his assistants until the matter is resolved.

Of course, Elias pays him a visit the day after Naomi leaves, claiming to have heard what happened, and scolds him for driving away a statement giver. Jon is too tired from the nightmare to care, and he just agrees to everything, barely even listening. Elias stares at him again with his cold steel-grey eyes, trying to read him, but then he just shakes his head slightly and leaves.

After all that, no one brings up Naomi Herne again.

Jon makes a surprising discovery that only his relationship with Martin hasn’t suffered in the past months. While Tim had apologized for his earlier outburst, both he and Sasha have been quite reserved ever since (or was it Jon who have grown distant?); Martin however clearly wanted to keep the energy of the office up. Jon expected to hate it but, despite the pain and the persisting feeling of loss, he’s been enjoying his company. Martin has been consistently bringing Jon tea to his office, three hours before lunchtime – sometimes in the afternoons when Jon stays in the office past the clock – and Jon can’t help but admit he’s started to look forward to it.

He grows restless, however. The Archivist’s warning lingers in his mind: Martin will be first. First to what? Die? Jon doesn’t want to believe that. It can’t refer to the worms – the nightmare is so real in Jon’s mind that he feels he’s already experienced it before anyone else. Although, now that he thinks about it… He recalls a statement, the name Timothy Hodge. Could it be connected to his nightmares? Why would they come after them, though? Why would they come after Martin ?

As March comes, the feeling of not remembering something vitally important grows like an incessant weed, combating every attempt at eradication. Everything seems ordinary; Martin brings him tea and goes out for a follow up, Sasha quietly taps at her computer, and Tim is deeply engrossed in a Wikipedia article only tangentially related to the case he’s currently working on.

Then, the next day, Martin doesn’t show up for work. Jon stifles his panic because Martin clearly texted him he’s sick, but something feels off. The following two days are pretty much the same, with Jon fighting himself on whether it would be appropriate to check up on him; he even hopes the Archivist shows up in his dreams to explain this sudden alarm, but it doesn’t. He just dreams the same nightmare full of worms.

After a week of empty messages from Martin and a fifth unanswered call, Jon decides it’s enough. He puts his phone down on the desk and starts drumming his fingers.

“Hey, Jon, do you want some coffee?” Sasha shows up in the door to his office. “Or tea, I suppose. I’m going out for lunch, and I can get you something since Martin is still—”

“Do you know where he lives?” Jon asks suddenly and stills his fingers, looking up at her. Sasha blinks.

“Uh… what?”

“Martin. Do you know where he lives?” He prays she can’t hear the nagging anxiety in his voice. Sasha takes a breath, her eyes wandering to the side, thinking.

“Um… I don’t know. Why?” Jon tsks, and the drumming resumes. Sasha frowns with concern. “Are you okay?”

“He’s not picking up his phone,” Jon informs her dryly. Sasha shrugs.

“Maybe he’s just tired—”

“It’s been a week.” Jon’s lips form a tight line. “I need to see if he’s okay.”

Sasha looks genuinely surprised.

“You’re… actually worried,” she states more than she asks, and Jon looks at her again.

“Yes, of course I— Why is that surprising?”

“I just…” She shrugs. “I didn’t think you cared this much.”

Something tightens in Jon’s stomach.

“Well, I do,” he says after a quick pause. “Could you check his address for me?”

“Alright.” Her eyes linger on him for a moment, but Jon can’t figure out what exactly she’s thinking.

While Sasha sits down at her computer to do her digging, Jon leaves his office, following a sudden idea to check what Martin had been working on before he disappeared. He looks at his desk and searches the pile of documents; some notes about a residence on Boothby Road and a couple of unfinished poems (Jon feels his cheeks grow hot; he discards them hurriedly, pushing the bundle of feelings out of his mind). Finally, he finds it – statement of Carlos Vittery, the man followed by a creepy spider. Is Martin targeted by the Web? Is it at all related? Jon realizes he doesn’t know why he searched for the statement at all and leaves it be on the desk. There’s no evidence that Martin is even missing , he scolds himself in his mind.

“Do you have anything?” He asks, walking up to Sasha’s desk.

“Yeah,” she says, not looking at him. “Stockwell. I’ll text you the exact address.”

“You’re amazing, Sasha,” Jon says before he can stop himself and, not paying any mind to her surprised expression, takes his bag and leaves the Archives.

It is when he finds himself in front of Martin’s building that he realizes he has no idea what he’s doing. He wants to check on Martin, yes, but the anxiety in his gut is only rising and he has a feeling this isn’t a natural occurrence at all. The Archivist’s words have echoed in his brain the whole journey there: You better apologise to Martin in advance. He will be first.

He has no idea how to fight whatever he finds inside. All he has on him is a couple of loose documents, a book and… a tape recorder? Jon frowns. He definitely did not take it. He shrugs and turns the recording on.

“Even better that I have it,” he says. “I’m outside Martin’s house and I know whatever it is that is inside, is going to be supernatural. I don’t know why, but I just know . I’m recording this in case… Just in case.”

He puts the recorder back in his bag and opens the door. He pays no mind to the fact that he shouldn’t have known the code to the door; it comes too naturally to him. He quietly enters the silent building, his legs shaking a little. His eyes fall on the fire extinguisher in the corner, and he sighs.

“I’m taking the fire extinguisher as a, uh… A weapon. I don’t know how useful it can be but um… It’s better than nothing.”

As he climbs the stairs, he wonders where this certainty of a paranormal nature of this incident is coming from – no tangible facts would suggest that. Is he just making a fool of himself? Only further proving that his mind is deteriorating under the Archivist – if it is even real at all? Jon shakes his head and continues quietly but surely, wielding the fire extinguisher. This is no time for existential detours.

He finally reaches Martin’s floor, and he halts, fear stopping him dead in his tracks. The sound makes it to his ears first – the wet writhing and heavy breathing. Next is the putrid stench of decay, bringing tears to his eyes. He idly wonders how is it that no one in this building noticed anything. Were they all gone?

Jon steels himself and rounds the corner to face what he already knows is there.

The creature from his recent nightmares stands surrounded by all too familiar worms. Its hair is dirty and looks sticky as the worms move among it. Its punctured hand is knocking on Martin’s door, and it smiles baring more worms to the world. It turns to Jon slowly and looks at him with eyes full of goo and something black.

“ Archivist… ” it whispers. Its voice is distorted somehow, elongated, and just sounds… wrong. Jon finds himself frozen in his place for a moment, as the worms start crawling in his direction. Blind panic overtakes him, his mind plagued by the sensation of those same worms digging into his skin and feeding on his flesh. The next moment, he tightens his grip on the extinguisher and, not thinking at all, sprays the worms with the CO2. The creature hisses at him and the hiss lingers in his mind as the worms writhe in pain and try to escape the gas.

“ We’re not done… Archivist… ” The creature hisses. “ Their song… You shall hear… Their song… ”

Then the creature melts into thousands of worms and bugs that scuttle towards the window and leave the building. Jon keeps spraying them, mind cut off from processing, until the remaining worms are either dead or gone.

Feeling a bit light-headed already, Jon pounds on Martin’s door.

“Martin? Martin, it’s me, Jon!” He hears a little yelp from the inside. “Are you alright?”

“J-Jon?” A faint voice comes from the inside.

“Yes, it’s me! Open the door, Martin, it’s— that… thing , it’s gone now!”

He looks around again to make sure no worms made it back and leans one hand on the wall to steady himself. After a moment he hears a key turn in the lock and the door cracks open to reveal Martin.

He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in a couple of days. He’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie depicting a cow. His hair is in disarray, and he looks overall a mess.

“Jon? What—” He starts but Jon interrupts him by opening the door wider and pulling him into a hug.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Jon mumbles.

For a moment Martin is too shocked to do anything, but then his arms carefully wrap around Jon’s shoulders. Jon really shouldn’t be surprised that Martin is an amazing hugger, especially that a part of him already knew that, but he relaxes a little bit before he comes back to his senses and realizes he is actually hugging Martin, his assistant . He awkwardly withdraws to lean on the door frame, clears his throat, and crosses his arms on his chest, cheeks burning.

“You weren’t bitten, were you?” He asks very matter-of-factly, hoping to save face. Martin shakes his head.

“Uh, no I-I was here and—Jon, what is going on?” His insistent gaze clears a bit of the brain fog that the CO2 has left Jon with.

“Ah, I’m—I’m sorry. I, uh—” His eyes scan the flat over Martin’s shoulder. “Can I… uh, come inside?”

Martin looks nervous as he takes a step back to let him in.

“Yeah, sure, but,” –He stops when Jon sways unsteadily as soon as he lets go of the wall’s support. “Jon?”

“Sorry, uh… That’d be the CO2, I think,” he laughs. Martin steadies him and leads him to a couch, then closes the door. Jon takes a couple of breaths.

“You can open the windows, Martin, they, uh… they’re gone now.”

“How—,” He sighs and shakes his head. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Jon rubs his face. He stands up carefully and walks up to a window that Martin now opens. He closes his eyes; takes a deep breath of fresh air and can feel his brain clear up a little bit.

“Do you, uh…” Martin starts. “Do you want some tea?”

Something tightens in Jon’s chest, constricting his breathing room. He raises his eyebrows at this, frankly, ridiculous question, given the circumstances, but Martin’s disconcerted and confused expression doesn’t let him point it out.

“Yes, sure,” he says instead, noticing Martin nod with determination before heading to the kitchen.

Silence falls over the flat for a while, only broken by Martin’s tea preparations. Jon takes his time, clearing his lungs of the CO2 and Martin, even though he must be itching for an explanation (Jon scolds himself for the choice of words), seems to give him all the time he needs. When the two cups are ready, he places them on the kitchen table and takes a seat. Jon opens his eyes then and follows suit.

“How—" Martin begins. “Wh— H-How did you know…?”

“I…” Jon stares at his tea as he realizes he did not plan that far ahead. He didn’t plan at all . How is he supposed to explain? “You weren’t picking up your phone.”

Martin blinks.

“I wasn’t…” He exhales, trying to follow Jon’s thought process and shoots a glance at the apartment door. “But h-how did you—”

“Honestly, it was dumb luck,” Jon chuckles nervously and sips his tea, still not looking at Martin. “I grabbed the fire extinguisher randomly to have a weapon and… turns out it works on them.”

Martin looks down and swallows.

“Are you okay?” Jon asks, finally looking up. “How are you feeling?”

Martin takes a sip of his tea.

“I… I think this is, uh… I think I have a, um… a statement to give.”

“A statement?” Jon repeats and immediately reaches to his bag. He takes out the running tape recorder and places it on the table between them.

“Wh—W-Why do you have a tape recorder running?” Martin asks in disbelief. Jon shrugs.

“I wanted to… uh, have proof. In—In case something like this happened.”

“I thought you—”

“Just tell me what happened, Martin,” Jon interrupts, not very keen on answering questions he doesn’t have answers to. Martin sighs and nods. Jon takes a deep breath.

“Statement of Martin Blackwood, archival assistant at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding…?”

“A close encounter with something I believe to have once been Jane… Prentiss,” Martin fills in, looking down.

“Recorded direct from subject, 7th March 2016. Statement begins.”

Silence falls over them when Martin finishes talking. Jon swallows and looks at him.

“Why didn’t you come to me before going back there?” He asks and Martin scoffs.

“You wouldn’t have believed me! You said dying encased in web surely had a natural explanation! No, I needed hard proof.”

Jon sighs and rubs at his face, pushing his glasses up to his forehead.

“This is probably as far as hard proof goes,” he huffs out. Martin doesn’t laugh. Jon looks up at him; he looks thoughtful, staring at a point in the table. “Statement ends.”

He clicks the STOP button on the tape recorder and clasps his hands together on the table. Martin is still in his thoughts, frowning slightly. He looks… sad. Jon feels a soft chill on his skin all of a sudden.

“Are you okay, Martin?” He asks quietly. Martin blinks, as if settling on something and looks up at him.

“Jon… why? Why did you, uh… I mean, don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate it and you, you might have just, uh, s-saved my life but, uh…” Martin fidgets with his fingers. “Why did you come here?”

Jon feels as if someone just stabbed him in the chest. He instinctively moves his hand to grab Martin’s but stops himself and takes a hold of his empty mug instead. He knows it doesn’t escape Martin’s notice, his green eyes following Jon’s hand, even though he doesn’t react. He does have rather pretty eyes, doesn’t he?

“I…” Jon exhales and looks down, shutting down that line of thought before it starts in earnest. “I just… I had a bad feeling.”

“A—A bad feeling?” Martin repeats and Jon sighs heavily.

“Yes, I know how it sounds, coming from me. But look at that, I was right! Even if I… don’t really know why. Or how.” Jon bites his lip and looks away. “Look, I… I want— no, I need you to know that, uh… That you’re valued at the Archives. And, uh… I was worried. About you. I’m… I’m glad you’re okay, Martin.”

Out of the corner of his eye Jon sees Martin look at him in surprise before turning his gaze onto the table. His face shows no emotion and his stare seems empty.

“Oh,” he lets out and nods slightly. “Th-Thank you for coming.”

Jon wants to comfort him somehow, but he doesn’t have the first clue on how to do it. He’s not exactly well suited for helping people come to terms with trauma, so he clears his throat and says the only thing he feels makes sense in the moment.

“We need to get you to the Institute.” His voice is deeper and more in control, and it grabs Martin’s attention. “You’re not safe here. I have a place in the document storage where I sometimes sleep when I stay in the Archives for too long, it should be enough to provide a safe space. I’ll ask Elias to double up on security and to maybe get more CO2, just in case.”

“Wh—uh… What do you think this means?” Martin asks.

Jon starts drumming his fingers on the table, but his mind is providing no useful insights. As he turns his attention inwards, all he feels is guilt. Could he have stopped this? If he just remembered, if he just… what? Listened to the Archivist?

“I think…” He starts. “I think something bad is coming, Martin.”

~~

Elias Bouchard leans back in his chair, up in his office in the Magnus Institute. The office is immaculate and neatly organized, every book on the shelf and each document on the desk exactly in its designated place, as if afraid to step out of line under the Head of the Institute’s watchful gaze. Above Elias’ head, on the wall, there is a portrait of an older, greying man, wearing a monocle on a thin golden chain. Below it, on the frame, are three words, etched into the wood.

Vigilo. Audio. Opperior.

And that is exactly what Elias Bouchard is doing. He watches the two men enter the Institute and quickly head down to the Archives. He listens as they explain to their friends what has happened. And he waits for The Archivist to come to him, asking questions.

Elias can’t say everything is going according to plan. In fact, from the looks of it, he’s going to have some troubles with his current plan in the near future, but it doesn’t bother him much at the moment. The Archivist is bound to his position, as are his co-workers. He trusts in his own abilities to improvise should the need arise.

What Elias does not understand is what in the hell happened to Jonathan Sims.

He felt it; he’s fairly certain every Avatar of all of the fourteen powers felt it. The night before Jon’s first day as the Head Archivist something happened. Elias doesn’t know what and it bothers him like a splinter in the flesh of his mind. Something changed in the very fabric of the universe, Elias could feel it tear and split, and then sew itself back up as if nothing happened. But something happened. And after seeing Jon that morning, Seeing him absolutely torn apart, his whole being scattered like bricks of a toppled tower, he knew this was the result of whatever happened in the night. He’s tried to get a look into Jon’s head for a while now, but he’s become… guarded. His mind has created protections that his Eye couldn’t penetrate, and it was… frustrating to say the least. It doesn’t necessarily thwart any of his plans, but he has to assume Jon now possesses some knowledge and abilities, and that does pose a threat.

Elias sighs and straightens in his chair. Here he comes.

As expected, there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Elias says. Jon comes in and closes the door behind him. Elias does his best to read Jon’s expression, but he’s closed off, as ever.

“Martin was just attacked by a… worm hive we believe to once have been Jane Prentiss.” Ah, there it is. The anger. Not in complete control then, Elias chuckles in his mind. Now, that would surprise him.

Elias decides to play his part. Jon may already know his identity and perhaps his role in all this, but that doesn’t mean he needs to open his cards just yet.

“Martin was what?” He asks in disbelief and frowns. “What are you talking about, Jon?”

“I’ve seen it, Elias.” He revels in the little emphasis on his name, subtly saying ‘I know your secret, stop playing around’. As if that’s leverage. “Thousands of worms. And I’m sure you remember that statement about Jane Prentiss. It has to be her.”

Elias sighs and stands up.

“Alright, if you say so. Is Martin okay?” Elias glances at Jon. Anger flashes through his eyes. Oh, how curious he is to know what exactly Jon knows now.

“Yes. I said he’d be able to stay in the Archives until the matter is resolved.”

“Very well,” Elias nods reluctantly and runs down the stairs. “Does that mean you’re going to fix your sleep schedule?”

“I—what?” Jon blinks. Elias shakes his head.

“Since Martin is taking over your temporary bed in the Archives I’d think you’ll start going home earlier to get some proper rest.”

Jon doesn’t answer.

They walk the rest of the way to the break room in silence. Martin is sat in one of the chairs with a blanket over his shoulders and a hot cup of tea in hand and Tim is sitting next to him, telling a story. He stops as they enter.

“Martin, are you alright?” Elias asks and Martin nods.

“Yes, I’m—I’m quite okay now.”

Elias nods curtly and glances about the room.

“Do you have any proof of those… worms, you said?” He turns to Jon just in time to see his lips press together in stifled frustration.

“I have it all on tape,” he almost growls, and Elias raises his eyebrows.

“All of it?”

“Martin’s statement included. You can listen to it if you so wish.”

Tim raises his eyebrows, looking from Jon to Elias, while Martin continues to stare at his tea. Elias makes a mental note that Jon is already seeking out statements to feed the Eye.

“Very well. Do you need anything else of me, Jon?” He turns to the Archivist.

“We need extra security at the Institute’s entrances and more fire extinguishers,” he says.

“Thank you,” Martin says quietly and Elias nods in acknowledgement, his lips forming a slight smile.

“Whatever you need, Martin.”

Jon stares after Elias for a long while after he leaves, his lips forming a thin line. Thoughts crowd in his brain like ants in an anthill that has been stepped on. How much does Elias know of what’s going on in his head? How much of this is his plan? If so, what would be the next step? And, most importantly, how does he stop it?

“Jon, are you okay?” Sasha materializes in front of him, and he jumps at her voice a little.

“Oh, I… Yes, I’m fine. Why?”

“Elias left five minutes ago, and you’ve been unresponsive.” She frowns. “This must have been traumatic for you too, sit down and we’ll—”

“What…? N-No, I’m—I’m perfectly fine.” Jon sighs and shakes his head. “Elias gets on my nerves.”

Tim scoffs sympathetically and nods.

Jon unzips his bag and takes out the tape recorder, then places it on the table. It’s almost the end of their work day, but he can’t stand the thought of leaving Martin alone here.

“Do you mind if I play it?” Jon asks. Martin looks at him confused, so he adds. “The tape. From the… from today.”

“Oh,” Martin looks down for a moment. “I… I’d rather not listen to it, if that’s—”

“Absolutely,” Jon nods and takes the tape recorder. “I’ll be in my office then.”

As soon as he’s alone, he plays the tape. He listens to it intently, noting the static when he approaches Prentiss and the heavy distortions when she— when it speaks.

As the tape winds to an end, a memory resurfaces in Jon’s mind – a spider on the shelf, that shelf collapsing, thousands upon thousands of worms crawling into the Archives like a flood. It looks just like his nightmares, except Jon can swear he’s lived it. Besides, in his dreams he is always alone, and in the memory Sasha and Martin are with him. It’s a quick flash but the knowledge stays with him as he fumbles for a notepad.

Jane Prentiss is going to attack the Institute.

The tape finishes playing and the only thing that can be heard is Jon’s drumming fingers.

~~

The walls hum a tune Jon doesn’t know, that nevertheless sparks a feeling of familiarity in his mind. The office is empty and would be quiet if not for the humming, getting progressively closer. He can’t determine the nature of the sound – it doesn’t sound like any instrument he’s ever heard. Despite containing no words, it speaks of warmth and love; family. Jon abandons his research on the desk (he can’t even recall what he was researching, but that doesn’t matter) to inspect a wall behind his chair, the only fragment of it not obscured by shelves. The surface vibrates ever so slightly under his touch, and he feels a surge of anticipation run through his body. Whatever hums on the other side of the wall yearns for him, and he finds that he yearns for it back. His heart goes out to the feeling of wholeness – unity – and he needs to find the source.

He locates the weak spot in the wall, cracked open so many times before, but he stops. A spider sits in the corner, just next to the place where Jon thinks a hole should be, and its black eyes glisten in the light of the office. Jon’s blood freezes and he withdraws, searching the surface of his desk for a weapon. He finds a thick book and lunges it at the spider without a second thought. The book and the spider carcass both fall to the floor, and all is still. A shiver of disgust and fear passes through Jon. It’s dead, it will no longer stand in his way.

“ That was very stupid. ”

A distorted voice comes from behind him, but as he whirls around he sees nothing but shelves and the absence of the door – all perfectly ordinary. The voice laughs, now somewhere to his right, and Jon wills his fast-beating heart to slow. He just needs to get to safety. The humming is getting closer still, inviting him into its embrace, calling him home; he carefully steps over the dead spider and punches the wall with his hand.

He expects pain and debris, but the wall gives way and tears easily, almost like wet paper. The dark tunnel inside is cut short by a door that, in the light getting through the entrance that Jon has made, seems to be pale yellow. The humming swells in his ears and a dizzy spell has him reaching out for the wall for balance. The stone is sticky and wet, as if covered in slime. Jon takes his hand back to see a squished white worm on his palm. He fights a wave of nausea as he frantically tries to get the remains of the worm off of his skin, a sickly sweet smell of decay filling up his nostrils and clouding his brain. The humming starts to sound suspiciously like wet writhing and the warm feelings of home rot in his chest, shrivelling and squirming in the pit of his stomach. Small bodies stir within him, moving in time with the beating of his heart – a sort of tickling but nauseating sensation – and he screams, revulsion making his body recoil.

The Archivist’s words ring in his mind – You can’t control the dream but following it until it ends usually works . He struggles to turn the handle of the yellow door the right way, the dizziness making it difficult to establish left and right. He needs to get away, somehow, run away from what’s inside him. The worms want to claim him as one of their own, a home, but none of the previous feelings Jon now recognizes as illusion could penetrate his utter disgust at this violation.

The door opens into a brightly lit corridor and Jon falls through onto the floor, the door closing behind him immediately with a gentle click. He gives himself a moment to breathe heavily, relieved at the feeling of his insides once again belonging only to him. Then, he blinks and sits up, trying to assess his current situation.

The corridor is hazy, doused in various hues of orange, red, and yellow light as if from an early sunset, except there are no windows to be found. It stretches for at least a mile ahead, Jon thinks with growing unease, joined by other corridors at different, peculiar angles. He can see one going up from the ceiling, another going diagonally up and to the left, and yet another one several dozen feet away from him dropping straight down. The walls are covered in an old-fashioned yellow wallpaper with dark wood moulding and a colourful flower pattern swirling into spirals that immediately give Jon a headache. On both sides of the hall hang mirrors of varying sizes.

Jon scrambles up to his feet, squinting in the light. The corridor smells like new carpets and paint, and he frowns at the sudden acrid intensity of it. For a second it’s so overwhelming he has to shut his eyes, but then it passes as if it never happened. Jon shakes his head and turns around to the door—

Only to find it gone, replaced by a floor length mirror. He flinches back, startled by his own reflection. Have his arms always been this long and thin, his fingers swirling into serpentine streamers, with nails so sharp they cut his eyes just by looking at them...

Jon staggers back, shutting his eyes again, and breathes slowly. He can get through this if he just follows the dream wherever it goes. If it happens to be down this wretched corridor then he just has to accept it.

He turns away from the long mirror before he opens his eyes again and starts walking at a brisk pace, careful to go around the hole in the floor that the branching corridor creates. His eyes involuntarily stop on the mirrors he passes, each showing a twisted reflection of himself.

He decides not to take any turns for fear of getting lost and continues ahead for what feels like twenty minutes. He then looks back idly but stops short in shock. There is a left turn behind him, right the way he came, yet he is sure he was going straight forward the entire time. He backtracks to see what is past the turn and finds an irritatingly similar yet nonetheless entirely different corridor than he has just been in. There’s a star shaped mirror on the wall that Jon is sure he would have remembered.

“This is impossible,” he mutters.

He turns back around to see a dead end, and a floor length mirror in front of him. His reflection is just slightly elongated with otherwise natural proportions this time, but its arms are crossed on its chest, and it looks at Jon expectantly.

“What—” he chokes down on the word and takes a step back.

“ Yes, it is quite impossible, isn’t it? ”

His reflection speaks with the distorted voice Jon had heard before.

“Wh—Where am I?” He wills his voice not to shake under his own scrutinizing gaze.

“ What an excellent question! ” The light, almost playful tone of the voice doesn’t match the hard expression on the reflection at all, even though the lips move with the words. “ You are nowhere and everywhere. You are here and you are there, but you also quite aren’t at all. ”

The voice giggles and Jon feels sparks of irritation break through the fear.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he says and his reflection laughs again.

“ Oh, but it does make sense! It makes all the senses, the sight, the smell, the touch... ”

Jon feels something brush against the back of his neck and he flinches violently, only to realize it must have been his hair.

“How do I get out of here?”

“ What makes you think there is a way out? ”

The reflection moves to another mirror and Jon blinks, suddenly dizzy.

“ Perhaps you have always been here, the outside just a dream? ”

“No.” Jon shakes his head, trying to assemble his jumbled thoughts. “I know that’s not right.”

“ It is certainly not the first time you are here ; you know that as well, don’t you? ”

“I...” The corridor sways and, as he moves his eyes, his vision clips, as if the world moved ever so slightly to the left, sending a mild electric shock to his brain. “No, you’re lying.”

“ Well, isn’t that just stereotypical now, ” the voice lets out a mock scoff. “ I do so much more than lie. And yet it doesn’t change the fact that you don’t know what the truth is .”

And isn’t that right? He doesn’t know what’s real anymore, his head is heavy and spinning, and he looks up at his reflection staring down at him with contempt. In the corridor behind it, Jon notices a dark figure spotted with green. He whips his head around but all there is behind him is a wall, the flowery pattern on the wallpaper swirling hypnotically. He tears his eyes away to look back into the mirror, where the figure still stands in the distance. Determination rises in his blood.

Without unnecessary delay he slams his fist into the mirror and lets out a cry of pain when the shards of glass cut through his skin. The reflection shatters into pieces and disappears in the glass on the floor, leaving an empty frame on the wall. Jon is about to berate himself for acting on impulse, but he turns around and the corridor that he saw in the mirror now stretches before him, along with the dark figure looking at him with its hundreds of green eyes. The tape bounds wind down to the floor and snake right up to Jon, connecting to the cuts from the mirror shards on his palm.

“ For a moment or two I thought you would not make it ,” The Archivist speaks in Jon’s head. Its voice is emotionless and coated in static, as always, although Jon can’t help feeling judged.

“But I did, no thanks to you,” he retorts, looking apprehensively at the blood trickling down the magnetic tape. Every movement of his hand causes the tape to move in the wound and Jon grimaces at the uncomfortable feeling. “Were you watching?” He asks with a considerable amount of sarcasm.

“ I try to .”

Something in its voice suggests that these words have more meaning that Jon is able to see at the moment.

“I have some questions for you.” Jon decides to change the subject and get to the point before their time is cut short.

“ Of course .”

“When you said Martin would be the first, did you mean what happened with Prentiss? That he would get trapped in his flat?”

The Archivist nods and guilt churns in Jon’s stomach.

“How did you know it would happen?”

“ I’ve already told you ,” it sighs. “ This has all already happened. I’m here to change that, but I can’t . ” It raises its arms along with the heaps of tape. Jon frowns.

“Not that I don’t feel bad for Martin, but isn’t changing the past a little much for stopping someone getting trapped in their flat for a week?”

The Archivist blinks once.

“ This is just the beginning. Jane Prentiss is one small piece of the grand puzzle. ”

“Alright, what exactly are you trying to stop then?”

“ The end of the world. ”

Jon lets out a small sigh.

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe that.”

“ After what you’ve seen I am very much expecting you to. ”

Jon scoffs, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes.

“Jane Prentiss is... a one in a million chance. Most of the statements are utter nonsense and the ones that aren’t are few; besides, my understanding of the role of the archive is that unnatural things, as rare as they are, have been happening for centuries! What’s so different now?”

“ You. ”

“Uh... What?” Jon falters slightly.

“ You are going to bring the end of the world. Unless I stop you. ”

Jon suddenly feels very cold.

“So, you do want to kill me,” he whispers, but the Archivist shakes its head.

“ No. There are many things that are going to want to kill you but I am not one of them. As far as I understand, you are essential for my own survival, such as it is. ”

“Right,” Jon nods with bitter humour despite the fear gripping his chest like a vice. “Because you live in my head. So, if I die, you die?”

“ It’s more complicated than that… But simply put, yes. ”

Jon takes a deep breath. The Archivist hasn’t moved since they started talking and Jon decides its presence was less unnerving when it was sitting down.

“What if you die?” He asks suddenly. “What happens to me?”

The corridor is quiet for a moment and Jon is uncomfortably aware of his own breathing.

“ The only way for me to die in this state would be from hunger, ” the Archivist begins; Jon can’t help but think its words sound more careful. “ But I don’t think that will be happening any time soon. ”

“What do you mean?” Jon insists. “How do you... feed?”

He grimaces and the Archivist blinks for the second time.

“ You don’t need to know that. All you need to know is that it isn’t hurting people. ” Somehow, Jon suspects the word yet has been left unspoken.

“But you haven’t answered,” Jon points out. “What happens to me if you die?”

“ Worst case scenario, you continue on your fated path like before. You make the same mistakes, and you bring about a world of fear. ”

“And what's the best-case scenario?”

“ You die with me. ”

Jon opens his eyes wider.

“You said you didn’t want to kill me.”

“ Your death is better than your ignorance. ”

Jon swallows and nods, more as an acknowledgement than an agreement.

“And—And what happens if I free you?” He asks, feeling a warm darkness starting to envelop his vision. Their time is running out.

“ Our minds become one. ”

Jon exhales sharply.

“So, my choice is either dying or becoming a monster?”

The Archivist chuckles quietly and bitterly.

“ It’s the only choice you ever really had. ”

[rivers-rambles21]

The one with the road trip

Part 15 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Warnings | 18+ only  - no smut but mentions of it

Chapter 15 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

Apologies for any mistakes, this has been written on my phone and its a bit difficult to edit. Once I’m back with a working laptop I’ll give it a once over :)

Bucky had intended on renting a bike so you could ride down to Louisiana but with Sam’s suit it would’ve been an impossible feat. 

He settled for hiring an SUV and added you both to the insurance so you could take it in turns driving on the long trip down south. 

“Been together one day and we’re already on our first trip” You teased as you rested your feet on the dash, taking in the scenery as Bucky drove. His metal hand gripped the steering wheel as he peaked a glance over to your bare legs, resisting the urge to pull over. 

“You’re the one having a mid life crisis doll not me” You feigned offense and swatted the soldier beside you, pleased to get a hit in as he tried to dodge your attack. His eyes remained on the road as he grasped your hand in his. “Less of that thank you” He laughed, bringing your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on the back before giving it back to rest on your thigh, his hand not leaving yours. 

“Looking forward to seeing Sam again?” He didn’t respond but his face said it all. “You’re so dramatic” You chuckled as you leant down to root around in your bag for the road trip snacks. Retrieving a bag of cashews, you offered it to Bucky who gladly took a handful. 

“I just know he’s going to ask a billion questions about stuff we’ve not even discussed yet, that we’re probably not even ready to talk about. He didn’t stop asking about you y’know? Y/n this, Y/n that…he kept threatening to ask you out.” 

“Oh he did” 

The car swerved slightly as Bucky's grip on the wheel tightened, his concentration lapsing for a split second. 

“He did what?” He asked, tearing his eyes from the road to glance over at you. 

“It was just a bit of harmless flirting-” You began before being cut off. 

“We flirted.” Bucky stated, his jaw clenching. 

“We also did a lot of things just friends don’t do. Relax Sarge, he only asked to get a reaction out of me.” 

Bucky grunted in response, knowing his reaction was a tad over the top but he couldn’t help it. You were his. 

“We could always mess with him in return.” You pondered as you took a swig of your drink. “Maybe hold off on telling him about us, it’s only meant to be a flying visit anyway isn’t it? So we wouldn’t have to pretend for long… play him at his own game?” 

Bucky smirked in response, completely on board with your little plan.

  The next few hours passed with the typical car games and a quick power nap as Bucky continued driving. 

“How long until you start at Starks?” 

“A month thank god, the GRC wanted me gone pretty quickly, I didn't have to work my notice which was a blessing really. I’ll schedule a day to go and clear out my desk and say my goodbyes. Will you still get your pension if we live out of the country?” 

“I’m not sure to be honest, I can pick up work wherever we are though, it wouldn’t be the first time. I’m good with my hands” 

“You’re telling me” You muttered under your breath. Bucky heard you loud and clear and let out a laugh as he recalled how you spent most of last night. “Are we crazy? Travelling with no plan, barely any money and only just starting out as a couple?” 

“Oh absolutely”

Eventually Bucky took a break from driving after you stopped for food in a roadside diner. It had been a while since you’d driven but you wanted to give Bucky the chance to get some sleep, something you knew he still struggled with. 

Despite telling him to try and get some sleep on the back seats, he remained upfront with you, doing his best to battle the drowsiness that had overcome him. He’d not gotten much rest the past few weeks, from battling the Flag Smashers in Europe, to hunting down Zemo and then back to New York. In truth he was worried he’d have a nightmare and wasn’t sure on how he’d react but upon your insistence, he tried to get some shut eye. After an hour or so he dropped off, the sound of you humming along to a song on the radio sending him off into a dreamless sleep. 

Bucky couldn’t quite believe it, he couldn’t remember the last time he slept without being haunted by memories of the Winter Soldier. Granted, he only got four hours of sleep , but it was the best he’d felt in a long time.

When it came to your turn to get some shut eye Bucky insisted on stopping over in a hotel for the night. You’d tried to convince him a motel would suffice after you lost the battle of you sleeping in the car but he was victorious. 

To be frank, after spending so many hours in the car, you were grateful to be sleeping in a bed with your super soldier by your side. 

As you slept, Bucky took the time to fire off a few emails advising he’d be ending his lease. Having slept earlier, he felt energised and was content in browsing the internet as you slept tucked into his arm. 

He did his best not to wake you as he opened a selfie from Shuri of her with Ayo and Nomble, a chuckle escaping his lips as Shuri and Nomble looked to be thoroughly enjoying themselves on a boat trip in New York whilst Ayo sulked in the background. 

He also replied to an email from his therapist's office, letting them know he’d be absent from his next session but planned on returning the following week.

Bucky was tempted to let Sam know he was coming but thought it best to surprise him.

The next day was much of the same, both of you switching the drive and stopping off at diners for food. Due to the lack of respect Bucky had for the speed limit, you were making good time and would be in Delacroix the following morning. 

“-it was like I didn’t exist. Honestly it was the most humbling experience of my life” 

“Sergeant Barnes in his uniform… now that is something I’ve got to see.” 

“Maybe one day”  

Your eyebrow perked at the thought. “Good god man” You groaned dramatically and sank further into your seat, giggling as you caught sight of the blush covering his cheeks. “For what it’s worth, lack of nutrients from the rationing clearly messed with her eyesight.” You were genuinely baffled how Peggy didn’t swoon for the man next to you.

“Where were you in the 40’s when I needed you huh?” 

“I doubt I’d have been your type” 

“Intelligent, strong woman with a great sense of humor? And thats not even mentioning your ass.. Oh no, definitely not my type” He replied sarcastically. 

“Ha ha fine, I’ll take your word for it.” 

“I’d have taken you dancing, maybe gone to a show or even the carnival. Anything you wanted.” He took your hand in his again and kissed the back of it as he pondered just how he’d of won you over back then. He usually didn't like to dwell on life before the war, the pain of losing his family and the future he lost was too much but having you in his life somehow made the memories hurt less. Having you with him now along with the future he could picture with you helped him make peace with his past life and accept that it wasn’t something he could ever go back to. 

When Steve was returning the stones, he did wonder whether he should go back with him but the realisation that there wasn’t anything waiting for him apart from a time that he didn't belong to made his decision to remain in the present resolute. And by god was he thankful he stayed.

On your way to your final hotel before arriving at Sams, you’d taken over the driving and had kept Bucky entertained with your off key singing and terrible car games. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” As it turns out, Bucky was a sore loser. 

“What? It counts!!” 

“You cannot see bacteria Y/N” 

“Yes I can! It’s right...right… right there!” You pointed to a random bit of the car interior and held back a laugh at a clearly unamused Bucky.

“You’re so full of shit” 

“How do you know I can’t see it huh? Guess it’s my turn again, I spy with my little -” 

“No” He cut off as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Absolutely not. I’m going to choose a game.” 

You let out a little smile and continued focusing on the road until the super soldier landed on something he liked. 

“Okay okay, would you rather sounds fun. Doll, would you rather have the superpower of being invisible or ability to fly.” 

“Aw come on Buck these are tame! If I have to answer, without a doubt invisibility.” 

“Not dirty enough for you sweetheart?” A tingle rang down your spine at your new nickname. “I’d have to agree, invisibility easily.” 

“Buck you’re an actual superhero, you’ve already got powers, leave some for us mere mortals!” 

“... you think I’m a superhero?” 

“....you’re literally an Avenger.” You reached across towards the man beside you, keeping your eyes on the road as you pressed your hand against his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes at your sarcasm and swatted your hand away from his head. “Fine you made your point.” 

You shook your head as you returned your hand to the steering wheel, tapping away to the song on the radio. 

“The rest of these questions are boring” He muttered as he furiously scrolled through his cell. 

“C’mon, go R rated” 

“It’s no fun when I already know the answers to these!” 

“Pfft doubtful, come on, hit me” 

“Spit or swallow, you’re a swallower doll.See?” 

“Okay okay! You’re right, I give in. How about we just ask each other some questions?” 

“But you already know everything,” He remarked, throwing a few cashews into his mouth. 

“When did you first see me as someone other than a friend?” You’d thrown him off guard with that question, his hand stuck in mid air as he went to throw more snacks into his mouth. 

“Wouldn't you rather know my most embarrassing sexual encounters?” He offered but was met with silence. “Fine……. I’ve never seen you as just a friend. Yes we were friends before we became more and honestly Y/n if it never progressed further than just friendship I would’ve been fine with it, more than fine with it y’know? Meeting you was the best fucking thing-” “Buck, it’s okay” Your hand reached out towards him and squeezed his thigh as you kept your eyes on the road. 

“There’s more… before we officially met in the lobby when that creep wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone, I’d seen you around. I was coming back from lunch with Yori and he was complaining about having gone for burgers instead of our usual and there you were, headphones in completely oblivious to the world and searching for your keys in your purse as usual. You were just so carefree - everything I wanted to be. And then a couple of days later we met and I was a goner.”

You bit your lip as you fought back a smile, overwhelmed by his honesty. It was a welcome feeling, knowing you weren’t the only one that felt an attraction almost immediately. 

“I’d seen you around too, before we officially met I mean. It’s kind of hard to miss you” You chuckled as you snuck a glimpse over at him and found him doing his usual glare. “It was pretty early on for me as well, do you remember when we went for coffee?” 

“And you ordered us two cups of sugar? Yeah I remember” 

“Mocha Latte’s aren’t bad for you… they just give you a bit of a buzz” 

“Especially if you order extra cream…” 

“Anyway! I’ve always been attracted to you, I’m not blind y’know but after seeing this dark looming strong man consume a drink like that, and have some residue cream left on his lower lip mind you, I just knew that it was more than just a crush. There’s something oddly charming and attractive about seeing someone so intimidating be so soft. It’s like I’m the only one who gets to see that side of you and I love it” 

Bucky didn't quite know what to say, he was slightly flustered at the compliments you were throwing at him and by the knowledge that you’d been interested far earlier than he had ever dreamed of. 

“We’re idiots aren’t we? For not realising sooner.” 

“Oh without a doubt”

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[flooffybits]

What

A love like yours knows no bounds, but a love like yours should remember that a heart like yours is precious above all.

Warning: character death, blood, cheating

Back || Next

Minji stared at you, the silence stretching as the tension grew thick.

Your breathing had yet to revert back to your normal breathing pattern and she could see just how shaken you were after asking her what Haneul showed you in your dreams.

You hated how you weren’t sure if it was another one of his tricks or if it really was another suppressed memory. But judging by how Minji had reacted to your question, you were beginning to believe that it was the latter.

“Minji…” You call and she slowly withdraws her hand to rest them both at her sides. Shame filling her features before she let out a shaky breath. "I promised to tell you if you asked." She whispers, and you barely even catch it with how low her voice had gotten.

Reaching to finally turn the lamp on, Minji shifts after, just so she's facing you, wanting to look you in the eyes as she answers your questions as truthful as she could. Though how quickly she'll be able to answer would be on how complex your question would be.

"Wendy… she's been another person Haneul strung along with keeping us separated." She started with a sigh, the bitter feeling coming back to her chest when she remembered the first time she'd met the woman, but she quickly shakes it off when she sees your face and remembers the expression you wore when she found you with the other. “We found you a little later compared to now and… you were married to her in that lifetime.”

You felt your heart sink at that and the images of what happened in your dreams kept rewinding in your head. “We didn’t hurt her, I swear.” She whispers, but when she recalls that painful moment, she can’t bring herself to look you in the eyes. “I’m sure he’s told you already, and while it was never my intention… you had an affair with me.” She quietly admits and you had to pause at the new information.

“Wendy found out about it and… she was upset, and she left your house but-”

“She got into a car crash...”

Minji nodded her head regretfully as you finished her sentence for her and you just felt sick to your stomach at this point.

"We tried to help her but… she didn't make it through the surgery, and right after that, Haneul brought us into another lifetime and wiped your memories again." She sighed out. "He didn't give you the chance to grieve. He didn't let you properly say goodbye and we just…" You could see just how difficult it was for her to continue, yet she pushed through, believing that you deserved to know the entire truth.

"Show me."

Minji blinks in surprise at your words, but when she remembers that your memories were back, she was quick to understand what it was you wanted her to do.

"You can still do it?" She asks softly before you nod your head, though the shaky exhale you let out after nodding informs her that you're not too enthusiastic about this decision either. “Y/n, if you don’t want to-”

“I just…” You cut her off with a pained look crossing your features. “I just want to know. I have to know. In another life, someone died because of me.” You try to hide the crack in your voice, but the way Minji’s expression shifts shows that you failed to do so.

She knows how much you care, even with the years apart. You cared too much for those around you, so finding out that you were the cause of your own wife’s death, even if it were in a different life, it was sure to affect you more than one would think.

“I understand.” Minji assures you before she gestures for you to lay down, and you do. Laying on your side so that you’re facing the older woman, she soon follows suit, leaving a little bit of space between you before bringing one hand up for you to take. And with one more inhale, you carefully take her hand before letting your eyes close, Minji looking at you for a few more seconds before she follows suit.

..

Minji brings you further into her memories and you watch as the scenery around you shifts in the blink of an eye.There are places that you deem familiar, yet there are those that are too blurry for your mind to fully comprehend.

But before you can question her about any of these places, it all comes to a halt and you find yourself standing in front of a house, walls painted a light blue and the lawn clean with the grass trimmed and flowers just watered maybe at least ten or so minutes ago.

“This is where you lived when I found you.” Minji spoke, her hand releasing yours as she walked closer to the fences. “It’s a beautiful home, and I honestly should have known by then that you weren’t the only one residing in it.” She mutters, a sort of grimace on her expression, but she quickly brushes it off before gesturing you to the house.

You quietly walk closer to the entrance, and instantly, the door opens for you, allowing you access into the house with Minji following after you.

The inside was as simple as it was outside, though having a few more decorations. There were pictures hanging on the walls and some resting right on the shelf above the fireplace. A coffee table sat in between that and a long couch, then a television was set on to the right, a few feet away from the archway that led to the dining room and kitchen.

“Y/n, come on, I’m going to be late!” A familiar voice meets your ears and you see as Minji’s shoulders tense for a split second before she’s forcing a calm look to show you that everything was alright.

There’s giggling that comes after, and you see another version of you holding the short haired blonde in your arms as laughter spilled from both of your lips when you refuse to let go of her.

“It’s still early, come on, do you really have to go so soon?” You ask with a small pout that makes your wife coo before she’s pressing the palms of her hands against your cheeks, a kiss being pressed to your forehead and drawing a sigh from your lips at the comfort that washes over you.

“How are you seeing this? You weren’t around for it.” You can’t help but ask, eyes straying from the couple to the woman standing next to you, but her eyes don’t look away, almost reminding herself of what she had once ruined.

“Because these are your memories.” She replies without looking. “The front may be mine, but at this moment, these are your own memories, connecting with what I have.” She explains softly, a sting to her heart in seeing you completely enamored by another woman who wasn’t her.

But it’s not your fault, she reminds herself.

You watch when Seungwan leaves the house and you don’t take too long to leave for your own job. The moment the door closes, you notice the shift outside, and you soon find yourself in Minji’s presence this time, a look of conflict in your eyes when the two of you stand not too far away from the Han River.

The older woman’s hair was dyed a vibrant red, and it suited her, you think. The brightness of the color complimented the bright expression she wore on her face as she gazed up at you from her crouching figure, searching for a flower before she finally found the one she was looking for.

“You know, red suits you.” You had said and the other looked a bit surprised, though her expression never falters as she giggles with a soft hue coating her cheeks before she’s holding the flower up to your face. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve been told, but white suits you a lot.”

And there comes the conflict again, because yes, you have been told that white suits you. Everyday, your wife would offhandedly comment on it whenever she saw you with either a white shirt, pants, or anything, really.

Innocence and purity.

But your thoughts were neither of those two because here you were, spending time with another woman whilst your wife did her best for the life you were supposed to live together.

You watch as your past self plucks the flower from Minji’s hands before gently tucking it behind the older girl’s ear, the white contrasting with her red hair, yet she looks ethereal either way.

“I don’t think anything could compare to your beauty.”

Your breath hitches while you watch yourself pull Minji closer, her front flush against your own before you had both leaned in. You only force yourself to look away when your environment begins to shift again and you’re once more inside the house.

“Tell me the truth.” Seungwan’s broken voice feels like a sharp blade running through your heart and you’re forced to watch whilst Minji could only look away in shame after Seungwan had arrived right when she was supposed to leave. “Tell me, Y/n.”

“I…” Your fists clench at your sides before your shoulders fall, slumped in defeat as you slowly shake your head. “I’m so sorry.” You whisper as the tears your wife had tried to keep at bay finally trailed down her cheeks as she took a step back.

“I don’t think sorry is going to be enough to fix something like this.” She chokes out, gesturing to you and Minji, and you finally lift your head when she races out the door, keys in hand. “Wendy, wait!” But as you reached the door, she was already starting her car and, soon, driving away from the home you had both built.

The home you carelessly destroyed.

Never mind the rain that pelted against your vulnerable form. You watched as the car slowly disappeared into the distance with tears of your own mixing with the water droplets that hit your skin while Minji tried to think of what she could possibly do to help you.

While you watch, you notice Yubin lurking somewhere in the distance, covered by the darkness with a small frown on her face. However, her gaze snaps to the direction Seungwan had gone off to when a bird perches itself on her shoulder, there’s worry on her features and it doesn’t take you long before you find yourself standing in front of the wrecked car, exactly like Haneul had shown you.

“She died before they could get her to the hospital.” Minji finally speaks again, watching as your figure stood watching as the flames consumed the car, the sounds of sirens echoing in the air whilst people began to crowd around, trying to see what had happened.

And among those people, you can see all of the girls littered around, blending with the crowd with apologetic and sorrowful looks on their faces when you tried to help your wife out of the damaged car, only to be pulled away so that the paramedics could get her into the ambulance when they got the stretcher ready.

“We wanted to help, but there wasn’t anything we could have done…” She added regretfully and before you had a chance to see further, Haneul came out of nowhere, placing a hand over your eyes.

And before the girls could spring into action, he waved his free hand and everything faded to black.

..

When you opened your eyes again, the sun was already peeking into the horizon and Minji was looking at you, the same sorrowful look in her eyes mixed with guilt and shame of what she had done, and you can’t help subconsciously squeezing her hand.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers and you slowly shake your head, a frown on your lips as you bring her hand to them just enough so they barely brush against her knuckles. “No matter how much I want to fix it, I know I was part of why that happened.” She uttered out. “Your grief may have been short lived but I hated how he didn’t let you feel any of it. And now that you know…”

She doesn’t need you telling her, because she can feel it throughout the entire trip through her memories. The air had shifted when it all came back to you and she knew it was only then when the pain actually came crashing down on you, slapping you on the face to make you see just what it was that you had gone through.

As they say, no matter how much you delay the pain, it will only hurt worse once it comes back to you.

“You didn’t know I was married…” You whisper and she slowly shakes her head. “I only found out when I saw you together at the grocery. Sua spotted you and that’s when I realized you were seeing me behind her back.” She explains, her voice laced with the pain and burden she’d been carrying.

“Why you didn’t tell me, I don’t know. But that night… I was supposed to tell you that I didn’t want to keep hurting her behind her back, even if she didn’t know anything.” She explained quietly. “That was when she caught me at your home. A friend of hers had caught us, together. And seeing us had confirmed her claims.”

“But you wanted to stop it from happening.” You try to reason, yet she shakes her head one more time. “As much as I love you, I could never do that to another person. I had you taken away from me once, and I know how much it hurts. I didn’t want anyone else experiencing the same pain I did, so I tried to avoid it.” She sighed out, letting her gaze move to the ceiling. “I thought to myself, in another life, I have a chance. But this one, I have to let you go even if it hurts.”

And it’s there that you understand just how deeply Minji has loved you despite your time apart.

Because no one would willingly sacrifice their hearts for the sake of someone else. And no matter how many chances she had, she’s not once given up or passed up the opportunity to reach you.

You had her heart from the beginning, and she wasn’t willing to take it back.

..

“Try again.” Bora’s gentle instruction meets your ears and you let out a huff before shutting your eyes for a brief moment, only to open them again and then stare at the pocket watch sitting in front of you.

Right after lunch, the older women whisked you away and brought you behind the house just so you were in a less noisy environment to help you focus more. But you didn’t understand why you were trying to recall the memories of an inanimate object instead of a living being instead.

“Judging by your behavior these few days, you don’t remember everything.” The older girl stated and you flinched when the memory of Minji that morning replayed in your head. “So, to recall, while you can look into people’s thoughts and memories, you can also recall how things come to be.” She gestures to the watch.

“That, for example. You can recall how it was made or how it came to your possession, when and where I got it for you, so on. In one of your older notes, you’re capable of doing more, but you just lack the practice. So now, we’re starting from scratch.”

Out of nowhere, a cloth wrapped around your head, covering your eyes and stealing your sight before Bora gave your shoulder a pat. “Best way to help you enhance your senses is by taking one away.” She states before her voice slowly becomes farther to your left.

“I don’t see how this-”

“Shush, just focus on what you want to do.” She tells you and you grunt. “I want to go back inside.” You say with a huff and she rolls her eyes before the end of the cloth flicks your ear. “Ow!”

“Focus!”

You groan but do as told, anyway, focusing your energy on the pocket watch after blindly searching for it in front of you, letting your hand wrap around the cool item and letting the image of it form in your head.

While you’re busy with the watch, Bora watches you from the side, arms crossed with a thoughtful look on her face when Minji walks out of the building to join the two of you, water bottles in hand to make sure you don’t overwork yourself.

“How is she doing?” The older of the pair asked and Bora let out a sigh. “She’s agitated, that’s for sure.” She nodded in your direction as you kept fiddling with the watch in your hands, but with how minimal your movements have been compared to earlier, it was clear to them that at least something was working.

Minji pursed her lips before nodding slowly. “Do you think I can help with that?” She asked slowly and Bora turned her gaze away from you to look at her friend properly. “Are you sure about that?” She questioned and Minji finds it ironic how she had asked you something similar earlier that day.

“If it’s going to help, then I don’t see why not.” She answers, trying to appear nonchalant, but Bora sees right through her. “Unless you’ve had a change of heart, what’s the reason you’re suddenly willing to use your powers on her?”

Minji huffs before crossing her arms. “I just want to help her.” She mutters, but Bora knows her well enough to know that she wasn’t telling the whole truth. “Jiu, whatever is going on between you guys, I don’t want you doing something stupid that could end up hurting both of you.” Bora stated before she looked back at you, watching as you stayed still where you sat.

Your shoulders were tense, but it’s not exactly long when your thoughts come spilling out and Bora can see her past self going through stores and eventually picking the watch up.

A silent smile creeps up her face as she nodded her head before the memory shifted to when you saw the watch smash against the wall in your dreams up until she had fixed it for you.

Once that stopped, Bora allowed the cloth to fall from your eyes and drape loosely around your shoulders, giving you back your eyesight that it causes you to blink at the sudden brightness that hit you.

“Well, you were able to do what you were aiming for.” Bora comments when she walks over, her hands folded behind her back, noting the slight exhaustion on your face when she walked closer. “But we have to keep your powers under control. They’re spilling over again and as helpful as it is sometimes, you know that it’s just as dangerous.” She explains while you nod your head and Minji kept quiet as she listened to the conversation instead, opting to not say anything for now since her own thoughts have yet to calm down after that morning.

Bora tries to come up with a way that could possibly help you, however the idea that pops up in her head causes her brows to furrow before she’s glancing at her friend, almost a little reluctant. “The way you’re looking at me is making me worried. What is it?”

Minji didn’t need her to say anything to know, and you look up at the pair. “I mean, the best way for your thoughts to run rampant is when you’re panicking… right?” Minji’s eyes widen at the suggestion, staring at her best friend as though she’d grown a second head. “You’re not asking me to do what I think you’re doing.”

“You said you were willing to do anything that will help!”

“But that’s too much!”

You reach for one of the bottles and take a quick sip before rolling your shoulders. “If you’re suggesting for unnie to use her abilities on me, then I don’t mind.” You cut in on their conversation, causing both their heads to snap in your direction. “If that’s what’s going to help, then it should be okay.”

“But I don’t want you to get hurt.” Minji argues, fists clenched at her sides while you shoot her a small smile. “I know you won’t do anything to intentionally hurt me.”

Your words cause her to go quiet and Bora takes that as a sign to keep going. “In the event that things go south, you can calm her down and reverse everything. I’ll be here to keep a hold of her, so we’ll be okay.”

“Fine.” She breathes out, opening and closing her hands before she lets them rest on her sides. “Just, if this turns out badly, I’m not doing it again.” She tries to sound firm, but it’s clear that she’s afraid. After what happened with Haneul, she doesn’t know what she would do if she were the cause of your distress again.

Bora gestures for you to sit against the wall before the cloth is back over your eyes. And without another word, chains wrap around you to prevent you from moving too much and potentially hurt yourself or anyone near you whilst Minji takes a cautious step closer.

She’s aware of Bora’s eyes on her as she moves closer. As soon as she’s kneeling next to you, Minji slowly reaches to rest her hands against your jaw, carefully cradling your face as she leaned closer, pressing her lips lightly against your temple before moving them near your ear, enough for you to feel her breath against your skin.

“I trust you.” You whispered when you could still feel her reluctance and Minji let out a breath before nodding her head. “I’ll be right here.” She whispers before she finally closes her eyes, whispering a single word before she feels your body grow rigid under her touch.

There’s a spike in your memories and thoughts. All the worries and fears come creeping up and your shallow breathing had alerted Minji and Bora that you were now in the state they were aiming for.

Minji doesn’t move away from your side, wanting to snap you out of it as soon as it becomes too much, and she was quick to do so at the first whimper that came from your lips. Bora even ran over, letting the chains fall to the ground while Minji ripped the cloth from your face.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe.” Bora instructed, rubbing your back as Minji pulled you into her arms. “You’re okay, it’s okay. We’re stopping.” She whispered while running her fingers through your hair.

But despite the inner panic you had just experienced, you were more than willing to push through. “Again... I want to try again.” You panted while shaking your head. “But Y/n-”

“It’s okay.” You argue. “I can keep going.”

The pair exchange looks before they’re reluctantly agreeing, putting you back in the same state. It’s a cycle for the next few hours, and they can see that it’s taking its toll on you. By the time the sun starts setting, the rest of the girls have come to check on your progress, only to see the weary looks on the two eldest members of your group.

“Is this working?” Yoohyeon quietly questioned and Bora grunted while wiping the sweat off her forehead. “She’s trying, and we’re getting there. There’s just too many suppressed memories - emotions, that she’s facing.” She explains when Siyeon carefully grabs her arm to balance her.

“But you’ve been at it for hours. This is too much for all three of you.” Handong stated with a frown. “Unnie, I think you need to take a break.” Yubin tells them when she approaches your hunched over figure.

Gahyeon lightly squeezes Minji’s shoulder before her own frown deepened at the sight of blood trickling down your nose, an indication that you were overusing your powers and that you were pushing yourself far too much than you were supposed to.

Aside from that, they could all feel the frustration and exhaustion you were currently dealing with. But what makes them all worry even more is the image of the burning car that your memories bring to all of them.

“I think that’s enough for today.”

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

I'd like to see how you think Vinca would admit she has feelings for MC, as if she couldn't take it anymore and admits to being in love with her.

“So you didn’t come to nag at me? At all? You’re just… just going to sit there? Silent?”

As she had done for the past hour, Vinca thoroughly ignored you. Never mind the fact that this was your shop, during your shift. You had gotten accustomed to Vinca hanging out here, to her snark and jokes and intense gaze, but today she was…

Weird.

“I like this silence,” you muse, tinkering with the price tags on some of the bikes. “I feel like I can actually think, for once. It’s amazing what not being insulted every second does for your humor. Didn’t think I’d ever feel peace with you on the same room.”

The silence stretched, thick. It irks you, makes you shift uncomfortably.

“Then again, having you like this is just so weird. Did something happen? Something must have happened. Was it Laz again? What did he do?”

You turn your head just slightly. Vinca jerks her head to the side, blue eyes as hard as little diamonds, staring into the door so hard you’re afraid it’ll burst into flames.

Did you just catch Vinca staring at you…?

“Okey, what’s up? You’re creeping me out.”

Vinca was the sort of person to run you over with her opinion or thoughts, never afraid of the consequences, her pride a stubborn shield. It didn’t make sense for her to hesitate, to keep silent.

“If you don’t tell-”

The bell jingles. You sigh, standing up, going to greet the costumers. It’s a little boy, vibrating in place, eyes darting around everything offered in the store. His mother walks in a moment later, giving you a small, apologetic smile.

As you help the boy decide what bike he likes the most, your gaze wanders towards Vinca again, catching how fast her gaze drops towards her phone.

You’re so kicking her out for creeping you out later. Once you finish your shift, you might coax what’s troubling her so much with some ice cream and that movie she likes.

“Will I faster than mum’s car with this, miss?”

You blink down, a delighted smile spreading over your face. “What?” You giggle, crouching, too focused on the little kid to notice how Vinca reacts to the sound, eyes snapping towards you, wide with wonder. “Oh, I don’t know. How fast are you?”

He puffs out his chest. “Faster than The Flash!”

His mother gets this blank expression, probably recalling some sort of accident. You recognize it well enough – it’s the same expression your mom always gets when she talks about the pot incident you had had when you were small.

The next few minutes are spent lightly teasing the boy, his mom admonishing him from running around so much, and a successful purchase moments later.

“Remember to drive safe!” You shout, just before the door closes.

“He’ll probably crash,” Vinca huffs, somewhere behind you.

“Oh, so now you’re talking?”

When you turn, your first thought is that Vinca probably is sick and that’s why she has been acting so weird. After all, how else would you explain the red tinting her cheeks, spreading down her neck?

She’s a full-body blusher, huh, you muse, momentarily distracted.

Hold on… full-body… Blush? Wait, Vinca is blushing?

“Is everything-”

“You’re- You’re good with kids.” She interrupts, gaze wandering.

“Not really, he was just…” Your eyes narrow, catching the way she’s moving. Slow. Uncertain. “Don’t change the topic. Why are you-”

“Shut up for one second, okay?” She snaps, back to her usual self. You blink, confused but not startled, used to her abrupt change in humor. “I just.” A pause. Her eyes flick towards you, and she takes a deep breath. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

“I’m in the middle of my shift-”

One snap of her fingers, and a demon materializes near the counter, expressionless.

“You have to be kidding-”

Her hand snaps towards your arm, claiming it in a vice-like grip. Vinca proceeds to drag you out of the store and into her car, occasionally adjusting her grip and making it gentler, and you only sigh and follow her, deciding do keep silent for now.

Seems like we’re getting that ice cream a bit sooner.

Curiously, Vinca doesn’t head to that ice cream parlor you usually frequent, choosing instead to lead you out of town. The place she wants to go instantly clicks in your mind, memories of a fight – the fight where you had first learned of demons’ existence – flashing behind your eyes.

“Are you going to perform another ritual?”

“No.” Vinca says, dryly. “I would never do something to hurt you.” There’s a pause, but you don’t make any comments. You can tell she’s not quite done talking. “When… when I did it the first time… the ritual, I mean. And it- when it didn’t work out, and you got hurt – cursed with being Dorran’s vessel, I felt so… miserable. I’m not any better than him. Considering how I acted, and all.”

“Hey, you helped me get exorcised. That must count for something.”

“I could have done it sooner.” She huffs. You can see her eyes darken, lost in memory

You shrug. “You were desperate, back then. And you’ve changed a lot. You actually care about me now, for one.”

Her lips thin. “Yes.”

That makes your thoughts skid into a stop. You expected her to huff, glare at you, and say something similar to ‘don’t let it get to your head, pipsqueak, you aren’t that important’.

But Vinca doesn’t look like she’s going to add anything of the sort, so you just stare at her, mouth agape.

“Did you just admit you care about me?”

You see her take a deep breath, feel how her grip tightens against the steering wheel. Her gaze is locked on the road, resolute. “Is that too hard to believe?”

You begin to say yes only to clam up when you detect the edge on her voice. “I’m just… surprised. You don’t usually admit how you, uh, how…”

“That’s going to change, starting now.” She says, guiding the car to a gentle stop near the abandoned factory where everything had transpired. She motions at you to get out of the car and heads inside at a brisk pace. You fumble with your seatbelt and hurry to follow.

The shadows loom, threateningly. Your gaze is drawn towards the center of the room, the traces of a circle barely visible. “I’m listening, then. To everything you have to say.”

You join her, sitting just a few meters near the entrance, backs against some boxes left there a lifetime ago. Vinca closes her eyes and sighs, deeply, and you only watch her. Watch the arch of her back, the knives on her dress glinting against the pale beams of light that manage to sneak through the windows.

“Just a heads up, but I didn’t expect this.” She finally says, after minutes of silence. “I thought I had better tastes.”

“In… what? Abandoned factories?”

“No, in- agh, just listen. I used to think you were someone I’d enjoy breaking, you know? In the show.”

“Oh yeah, I remember all your challenges.”

“But you turned out to be tougher than you look. And smarter, too, even if you sometimes make dumb decisions. Like following me to an abandoned factory minutes before a ritual.”

“I didn’t know you were going to-! But okey, yeah, fair point. It was a bit stupid. I should have called the cops on you.”

“Right, well. And then you powered through Dorran’s manipulation – I have to hand it to you, that was pretty badass. And throughout it all, you’ve… I used to think you were after me because you wanted an adventure. I mean, I’m hot, I’m rich. What more is there to love? But-” She throws you significant glare when she sees your mouth open, and you obediently close it so she can continue, “I understand now that it was never about the adventure. You just… wanted to get to know me. Not Pride, just me. Not the woman involved with demons, and not the woman involved with ghosts. You just wanted me, as I am, imperfect. And you never… you were never pushy about it. I could see it in your eyes, how you were connecting the dots about everything, but you never used it against me.”

“I never would have,” you mutter, gently. Vinca’s breath comes out in quick puffs of air. She’s visibly nervous, twirling one of her tiny knives between her fingers, her blush beginning to spread over her chest.

“You… somehow, you… I’ve felt it before, you know. Flings. Something destined to shatter when the other person can’t put up with me anymore, but with you, it’s… it’s different. I don’t feel like it will shatter. You keep me on my toes but I never feel like I will fall. You make me feel alive when all I want is to hide myself from everything. Somehow, I…I’ve come to love you. I’m honestly impressed, pipsqueak. I really thought I had better tastes.”

“What can I say?” You shrug, trying to be smooth but failing because your heart is thundering against your ears, your voice too soft out of the sheer wonder you are feeling right now. “Doing the unexpected is my passion.”

“You are too damn dorky.” Vinca hisses, turning her head just slightly. “I am ashamed of myself for loving- for falling in love with someone like you.”

You reach for her, and she lets you guide her so your eyes meet, sparkling blue against warm chocolate. You inch a bit closer, feeling her warmth envelop you. “Didn’t you just say I’m impressive?”

“I’m taking it back.”

“No can do, Wren. You fell in love with me despite, or should I say because, of my dorkiness. I’d say your bitchiness and my dorkiness complement each other quite nicely.”

Vinca groans. You can feel the vibrations of her voice travel down your hand, making you smirk even more, leaning closer, closer-

“Why did it have to be you?” She laments, but closes the distance despite it all, her movements intense and sure and glad. You can feel the heat of her skin, of her blush, pressed against yours as she quickly takes control of the kiss, pushing you backwards, curling herself around you.

Happiness surges inside of you. You smile into the kiss, melting against her.

You’ve both come a long way. This place, gray with memories of a fight, quickly takes on another meaning. One of acceptance, of overcoming challenges that kept both of you rooted into the past. With Vinca, you feel like you can finally leave it all behind.

[yuthoe]

Day 22: Reunion (MONSTA X: Yoo Kihyun)

TODAY'S LATE PROMPT FOR MTM IS:

Day 22: Fake Dating

ah yes, one of the favorite tropes in fanfic and i did not do it justice at all lmao. truthfully i was really excited about this, but the fic took a left somewhere and grew its own mind or smth. i think the poor writing is a combination of burnout and getting really distracted lmao.

tried to make kihyun the savage guy that he is, but still polite and considerate and i think i did that???? question mark???? please tell me what you thought about this lmao, i've never been to a high school reunion (except for my grandma's) and will never go to one anytime soon.

PAIRING: Yoo Kihyun x reader. GENRE: fic, fluff, mild angst. WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol, swearing. WORD COUNT: 1,769.

---

“Act natural,” you say as you smooth down the lapels of your friend’s coat, dust some lint off the shoulders. “Like, just act like normal. We just have to say hi to a few people and then go after an hour or something.”

Kihyun is looking you over as well, straightening out the sleeves of your shirt and making sure your hair is nice and styled and perfect. “I’m taking that as a go signal to tease you in front of everyone then, gotcha.”

You roll your eyes and take his hand, tugging him towards the glass door of the events hall. “Very funny, but you know what? These people might buy it even more, so go ahead.”

He intertwines your fingers as he pushes the door open for you. There’s a smirk on his face that says you’re going to regret what you just said. “If you say so," he says, as you pull him along with you.

Everything is decorated like a senior prom from the early 2000s--balloons everywhere, streamers hung up on the walls, a disco ball suspended in the middle of the room. There's a stage set up at the far wall, and popular tracks from your high school days play softly on the sound system. People are already mingling, table hopping when they see a familiar face.

You go to the small registration booth off to the side, Kihyun in tow, and sign on the space next to your name, walking away quickly to find a table. It's easy to weave through the thin crowd to your spot, and thankfully no one goes up to talk to you as you settle in.

A relieved sigh escapes your lips as you deflate against the seat; Kihyun chuckles at the sight.

"Why are you so nervous? You were so confident when you asked me out,” he says, smirking at your flustered state.

“Hey,” you counter, sitting up straight and pointing at him. There’s a smile of embarrassment threatening to crawl up your face, but you force it down. “This isn’t a date. I didn’t ask you out—I respectfully asked if you could come with me to my high school reunion and pretend we’re dating. There’s a difference.”

He tilts his head and laughs. “Okay, fine, this isn’t a date. But you’re shaking like a hamster, dude. What’s got you so jittery?”

Before you can open your mouth to say something smart, a yell of your name behind you makes you stop. Suddenly a flurry of pink silk ruffles envelops you, cold metal bracelets press against your face and neck, and a tinnitus-inducing squeal is blasted in your ear.

“OMG, I can’t believe you made it!” The offending classmate plops down the seat beside you and… you can’t say you remember her. You know you have a questionable memory, but you can’t recall anyone with a scarily-toothy smile and long acrylic nails. “I was wondering if you were gonna show today, I missed you!”

You smile warily. “Yeah, I thought I’d stop by, just for a bi—,”

“And who is this with you?” she interrupts, gaze fixed on your friend now.

Kihyun still has a polite smile on, eyebrow raised and patiently waiting for you to introduce him. You meet his eyes and take a steadying breath.

“This is, uh. Kihyun. My boyfriend.”

Your batchmate immediately extends a hand out to him. “Hi there! I’m Danhee. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Kihyun grasps her hand and shakes it firmly. “Likewise.”

Danhee (apparently, that’s her name. Still doesn’t ring a bell.) turns back to you, props an elbow on the table and rests her chin on her hand. “So what have you been up to lately?”

“Oh, you know, nothing much,” you say, twiddling your thumbs under the table. “Work’s keeping me busy, mostly. It’s pretty—,”

“Great! How’d you two meet?” Her eyes are sparkling, in that menacing way you’re familiar with when someone is hunting for gossip. “Probably work, right? I know Y/N isn’t that outgoing so I doubt—,”

“You know what, I’m gonna go get a drink.” You turn to Kihyun, desperate to get away. “You want a drink, Kihyun? Cool, I’ll get you something.” The chair screeches as you push away from the table and make a beeline for the buffet.

The air conditioning helps cool down your flaming face as you leave to get some reprieve from the suffocating air of the table. No matter how much you wrack your brain you can’t seem to remember anyone named Danhee; maybe she was in another class and part of the popular clique, a group you tended to stay away from.

You take a deep breath, surveying the array of finger food and wonder briefly what the main dishes are. The arrangement is no different from the ones you’ve seen at company parties—save maybe for the small picket signs that have slang from your high school days speared into some of the food. Despite looking delicious, you feel nauseous at the thought of taking a bite.

The drinks corner offers coffee, the kind that tries to pass off as Americano but ends up tasting more like candy because people keep putting too much sugar in it. It’s what you and Kihyun call “conference coffee” and shit on for the entirety of the conference you’re attending, even as you keep drinking it because there’s usually no other choice. Water is an option, as well as a fruit punch of some kind. If you’re being honest, you’d really like a beer right now, but you know the alcohol won’t come out until later.

In addition to the mound of paperwork you forced yourself to finish earlier, this week has just been plain exhausting. You’d hoped that coming to the reunion would help you relax, but apparently not.

Ice cubes clink as they go down the tall glasses. The coffee, however sugary it turns out to be, still smells heavenly and wakes you up some. You water both servings down a bit, if only to tamp down the syrupy sweetness.

“Hey,” a familiar voice says, hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. Kihyun moves into your line of vision, brows slightly scrunched. “You okay there?”

You don’t answer, thinking of words to say that won’t make you look pathetic in front of your work partner. You’re usually great at explaining and justifying your actions to your superiors, but words fail you this time.

So you just shrug and hand him his drink. “Can’t say for sure.” You take a sip and cringe; your mouth feels like it’s coated in a thick layer of sugar. Kihyun watches you and decides wisely to put his drink down, but pours two glasses of water.

“Do you know her?” he asks, concentrating on the drinks.

“Danhee? Nah. I mostly avoided her type back then. Being around them made me uncomfy.”

“‘Cuz she looks like a part of the Plastics from Mean Girls?”

You scoff. “No,” you say, but smile all the same as you walk back to your table. “Because I was a loner and operated on the mindset of ‘I’m not like other girls’ throughout high school.”

Kihyun laughs loud. “God, I didn’t think you were the type.”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” You sigh as you sit back down. “Thankfully outgrew that in college, though. Turns out being surrounded with a lot of open-minded people does something to your personality, and,” you open your arms, presenting yourself to Kihyun’s amused smile. “Now you have me, your beloved hardworking partner that throws snark at you everyday.”

If anything, his grin gets wider. Kihyun raises his glass of water, and you toast. “I’m proud of you for becoming so mature.” He takes a drink, making faces like he’s downing whiskey instead of regular water. “Although, apparently not mature enough to just ask me out plain and simple.”

You want to strangle him, you really do.

He’s right, though. Part of the reason why you invited him as your plus one is for moral support and to show people that the wallflower can also nab a man as great as Kihyun. But the other reason is that you’ve wanted to ask Kihyun on a date, but just didn’t know how to without embarrassing yourself.

You sigh and take a swig of your water. “Yeah, well, can you blame me, though? We always keep professional at work and I barely see you outside the building, so I haven’t really gotten a chance to ask.” You’re not lying—Kihyun being here is only possible because you left the building at the same time last week and asked him then before you chickened out.

He tilts his head in assent and takes another sip before crossing his arms on the table to whisper at you. “How about we make this a date, then?”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling like you can’t believe he suggested such a ridiculous thing. “What—here? My high school reunion that I only invited you to because I didn’t want to be alone?”

And maybe it’s the trick of the light, but you think you see his eyes go soft. “Well, yeah. I mean, it’s not ideal, but we’re here anyway. There’s free food, shitty coffee, and some entertainment.” He tilts his head to the stage, and you follow his gaze to where a couple of your batchmates are discussing something, mics in their hands. “Whether it’s the good kind of entertainment or the cringy kind though, we’ll find out soon,” you hear him whisper.

In theory, you have nothing to lose. Nothing really to hide. Perhaps the worst part of the night passed when you had that panicked moment with Danhee earlier, and all that’s left is to enjoy the night. You can still leave in an hour or two like you planned, but now with a higher chance of getting a few drinks afterwards, too.

So you make your decision and look back at him. “All right, Yoo Kihyun,” you say. “You’ve got yourself a date.”

His smile morphs into a smirk, the trademark confident grin making a small shudder run down your spine. You try to keep your composure as he slides a hand to your thigh. “Perfect. Wanna bet you’ll last an hour before you want to leave?” His fingers are massaging your knee, soft hands gentle on the meat of your thigh.

You scoff, grabbing at his hand to make him stop. “Deal. I’ll bet you an hour and a half.”

And before you turn your attention back to the stage, you see his smirk again, excited for the challenge.

[naerysthelonesome]

Before I Go

A Jeyna fic no one asked for.

Listened to folklore again and was cursed with feelings. I’m sorry.

Please, picture me in the trees I hit my peak at seven Feet in the swing over the creek I was too scared to jump in But I, I was high in the sky With Pennsylvania under me Are there still beautiful things?

Reyna, Jason had found in the two years he’d known her, did not tell people things about herself. And she sure as hell did not talk about her childhood. So he was surprised and more than a little gratified when she’d decided to tell him about her life in San Juan.

He couldn’t stop thinking of her now, as a happy little girl with untidy braids and a bright smile, strolling the cobbled streets with her big sister. Dancing around in the dappled shadows of the banana trees as the salty breeze blew past.

She’d told him of how she’d tried to catch a Coqui frog once, but had failed spectacularly. She gotten herself scratched up and muddied, and ripped all her clothes. Her older sister, she’d said, could be scary when she was mad, and Hylla had been infuriated at the state of her when she got back from the field. She spoke of that summer like it had been the best one of her life.

He couldn’t begin to make sense of how he felt about Reyna, but knew without a doubt that he liked the idea of spending a summer with her in San Juan. They could walk down the streets and she could point out her favorite cats, and trees, and rocks, and he’d make sure to remember every single one of them. They could spend long days with the old men playing dominoes, sucking on Piraguas without a care in the world.

But he knew these were just dreams, memories of a life long gone. Reyna barely spoke about her home town, let alone made plans to go back. Jason was not nearly dense enough to believe her life back then had been all sunshine and beautiful colours. They were demigods, and all demigods had monsters. Maybe someday, Reyna would tell him about hers.

Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Your braids make a pattern Love you to the Moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

Jason was nothing more than a ghost now. Barely even a lare, who unlike himself, could be seen and talked to. That was alright. He wasn’t here to be perceived.

He’d tried to visit his friends multiple times over the months since he’d died- to see them one last time, for just a moment of closure- but this was the first time he’d had any success.

Of course the first person he came to see had to be Reyna. He’d missed her more than he knew he could miss a person. He supposed it was because he hadn’t so much as had a proper conversation with his best friend since Juno had so rudely snatched him away. And then it had taken so much time, time he only later realized he didn’t have to waste, for his memories to return fully. All he’d had of her for so long had been a space in his heart where she should have fit. Not a name, or a face, but a feeling. He wished he’d had more time to find his way back to her.

Reyna meant more to him than he had ever told her, and familiar regret came bubbling up like bile in his throat. Wasn’t the afterlife supposed to give him peace? But how could there be peace when there she sat, thick braid hanging loosely over her shoulder, sharpening her silver dagger? She looked so beautiful in the moonlight, her breath fogging up in the cold air seeming to breathe life into his dead soul. He’d never stopped loving her.

He was glad she’d found a home with the Hunters of Artemis. For the first time in a long time, she looked free. And while it meant they wouldn’t meet again anytime soon, he was glad to know she had the chance to live a long, long life. One full of the adventures and love and happiness she deserved. A small, perhaps selfish part of him hoped she wouldn’t forget him along the way.

And I've been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted Your dad is always mad and that must be why I think you should come live with me And we can be pirates Then you won't have to cry Or hide in the closet And just like a folk song Our love will be passed on

Wanting to strangle someone that didn’t exist was a strange feeling, but one that was evoked in Jason every time Reyna mentioned her father. Neither of them had had happy childhoods or good parents, it seemed. Well, that was something to bond over.

It hadn’t been easy for Reyna to talk about him, which he understood, especially now that he knew how that story ended. He didn’t blame her one bit for what she’d done, but couldn’t help but wish she hadn’t had to make such a decision at all. The burden it seemed she would always bear was heavy, and she shouldn’t have been made to carry it at all. Not speaking ill of the dead kept getting harder by the second.

Maybe if her story had gotten better after she and Hylla had run away, his nerves wouldn’t be feeling so shot. Circe’s island should have been an escape. With its sandy beaches, and palm trees, and miles of sparkling blue ocean Reyna liked to describe in such detail. But no. All the adults in their lives had to be exploitative bastards. Reyna hadn’t sounded too angry about it though. She’d laughed as she recounted her tales of turning pirates into guinea pigs, coerced into the act as she may have been. Jason couldn’t lie- he saw the allure.

Speaking of pirates- the one’s Reyna had escaped with unfortunately hadn’t been the swashbucklery kind either. They’d been the cut-throat, cruel kind and now Reyna couldn’t stand sea shanties anymore; which was alright with Jason since he couldn’t sing anyway. The only reason the sisters had to escape with them at all had been because two upstart demigods she refused to divulge the names of, decided to blow up the island. Jason couldn’t decide whether he wanted to smack them upside the head for it, or thank them profusely for unwittingly steering Reyna to Camp Jupiter.

He hoped that here, she’d finally found a home and a place to rest. It wasn’t perfect, not even close, but she was making it hers. Reyna was already well on her way to becoming a praetor, and he knew she’d make one of New Rome’s finest.

Please, picture me in the weeds Before I learned civility I used to scream ferociously Any time I wanted

Jason often wondered how Reyna had thought of him after she’d found out about his history. There hadn’t been much he’d been able to remember about his own childhood. He’d been only two years old when he’d been given to Lupa, and all his memories of a family were little more than a blur. His home had been Camp Jupiter for most of his life, and he truly couldn’t remember another.

When he’d told her all he could remember of how it was to be raised by a wolf, she’d only looked amused. She’d simply looked him up and down and laughed. She had a cute laugh, all snorts and shaking shoulders. He didn’t always understand the things that made her laugh, but laughing with her felt so natural he did it every golden time.

He wondered if she’d had anyone to laugh with when he was taken away. Had she missed him? Every memory he’d had of her had been snatched away, but there were some people with whom you were so completely intertwined, even the Gods couldn’t untangle the strings. Perhaps he couldn’t place a name to what had been missing, but he had remembered her. Even in death, he would remember.

Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Pack your dolls and a sweater We'll move to India forever Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

What he wouldn’t give to go back and have one last Hot Chocolate with her in the Garden of Bacchus, to speak one more sentence in Spanish (Te amo, Reyna) and hear her snort at his accent, to brush her hair behind her ear once more. He hadn’t told her nearly enough times, how much he’d loved her laugh.

What he wouldn’t give to have one last chance to confess to her how he felt, with Aurum and Argentum there so she knew none of it was a lie.

But there was nothing he could give to turn back time, or build himself a different fate. They could only be together now in stories, and memories, and alternate universes. If there were any kind Gods left, perhaps in an afterlife that wouldn’t come for centuries.

Maybe he should feel sadness or loss, looking at her now for the last time. Mourn the loss of all the happiness they could have had together. He was going to leave again without a way to say goodbye or wish her well or have her look at him, but all he felt was contentment. She sat around a glowing fire, surrounded by her friends and sisters, singing soft campfire songs and telling stories of old. Maybe someday, she’d narrate their story too.

Jason finally found peace in the knowledge that his girl was going to be okay.

[kirboner]

The Curse of the Blood God

TW: Gore/blood descriptions, attempted suicide mentioned, major character death, swearing (not much).

WORD COUNT: 2,738

This is a mainly c!Technoblade centric along with c!Philza, other DSMP characters are also mentioned :] (if there are any tags I missed please tell me!)

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Growing up, Technoblade was always surrounded by violence. With violence came death, so the concept of it was never unfamiliar to him. Never jarring, never shocking. It happens to those who are too weak to keep fighting, who make stupid decisions or let their guard down. It happens to those who lose, and Technoblade never loses. 

Technoblade never dies.

So, when the tip of his blade pierces through an enemy’s throat, or when their blood spurts against the snow, and they collapse in a heap against the frost- Techno feels nothing. Partially because he doesn’t know them, but mostly because they made a stupid decision and they lost. They challenged The Blade. The Blood God. To Techno, losing a life is like losing a game, a challenge, a bet. 

The L’Manburgians that suffered once he spawned the Wither let their guards’ down. The Butcher Army by challenging him had made a stupid decision, and those he challenged and triumphed against were weak. So, they lost a life, or a few.

Maybe that’s why betrayal hurts him so deeply, why the feeling aches in his very core. Someone has to be close to him to betray him, he has to put his trust in them, he has to care about them. For someone to then betray him, to betray The Blade, is a stupid decision on their behalf. However, that’s not the half of why it hurts so much, why the feeling stings and burns and engulfs him. It’s because he made the stupid decision to put his trust in someone traitorous. Yet, regardless of his stupid decisions,

Technoblade never dies.

Techno has few constants in his life, so he tends to gravitate to those he can control. Roasted potatoes and gapples, a royal gown he stole a long time ago that he wears as under-armor, a golden crown. Small things, items he carries with him as he flees location. However, one other thing remains a constant in his life, something he can’t pack in a suitcase or strap to his back- and that’s Phil. 

His memories of his life growing up in the Nether are a mix of vivid snippets and utter vagueness that he’s had to piece together through whisper and rumour. He remembers fighting with other Piglin half-breeds in The Pit, uncomfortable nights spent unslept on hard nether rack, fractures and purple bruises left blotched across his torso. Gashes that reopened, scabs that refused to heal. The jeering and hissing crowd that surrounded him, as he was forced to rip apart his opponents; orphans just like himself. Losing their parents was the worst thing that ever happened to them, Technoblade being a close second. He could recall the *clink* of golden nuggets pooling at his feet, quickly soaked in the ever-growing pool of his opponent’s blood- this time a larger Piglin boy who laid face down, iron pickaxe lodged firmly in his spine. The crowd cheering his victories and spurring him on. Shrieking for more.

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD--

How he left- or rather escaped- the Nether falls into the latter category of utter vagueness. Phil had told him he came across The Pit when trading rare spider eyes on the black market, as he heard the value was higher in the Nether due to the specific spiders only existing in the Overworld. However, upon discovering The Pit he had, in his words, “gotten into a bit of a domestic over it with the ringleader,” which Techno suspected to be an understatement. Phil, apparently, had “completely non-violently, and totally consensually” taken himself and the other half-breeds to the Overworld. Techno, again, believed this to be a massive understatement, as Phil and himself to this day could not enter the Nether without a fight of some kind. 

‘So, what ever happened to the other orphans?’ He asked, throwing a match on their fireplace. Living in a Tundra, while isolated and peaceful, required near constant temperature adjustment.

‘I spent a while rehousing them all across the Overworld, it took around two months to actually find homes for all of ‘em,’ Phil shifted more firewood closer to the hearth. A spruce log, dark and dense. Techno shifted in place, ‘Uh, what about me?’ He wanted to elaborate more on the question, rather than sound like a small child, but didn’t. Phil chuckled, ‘You were different, Techno,’ to this Techno quirked an eyebrow, ‘Different?’ He probed.

‘Well, let’s see... I did try a couple times to find you a family, y’know?’ Techno frowned, ‘Not because I didn’t like you, but because I was worried about you. I have a pretty dangerous line of work, and I thought you deserved a bit of a more stable life,’ Phil sighed. A beat of silence followed ‘So how well did that plan turn out?’ Techno asked sarcastically, earning a chuckle from Phil. His confidence rebuilt slightly. ‘I wanted you to have a constant in your life, but I also didn’t want you to be unsafe,’ Phil looked at the hearth, crackling quietly. ‘The more time I spent with you, I realized you already had a constant, Techno,’ He looked at the kindling, long charred and crumbling to ash. ‘Violence,’ Phil breathed, barely above a whisper. ‘You needed more than just violence in your life Techno- and trust me, I know I’m not always the best example- but I wanted to be that constant’ Phil continued, ‘And I’m glad I made that decision,’ he smiled.

A silence stretched for a moment, a tight feeling developing in Techno’s chest. He got this feeling whenever Phil said something particularly sappy, though the tightness was never painful. It was a pleasant feeling. It was kind. ‘Even if it means you can’t trade spider eyes on the black market anymore?’ Techno deadpanned, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘Oh trust me, the market value for spider eyes has plummeted since the ‘90s, I was just trying to cut my losses,’ Phil smirked, leaning back on his hands. Techno rolled his eyes, ‘Christ you’re old, man,’ he said fondly.

A constant. Phil was a constant. He had been there to mend his tattered gown, tend to his wounds (now shallower, and fewer and further between). He had fought alongside him, brothers in arms, working together in the fight against tyranny. Phil was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, rightfully earning the title as The Angel of Death. 

‘Who first started givin’ you that name, anyway?’ Techno asked, swinging his axe down and splitting a spruce log down the middle, watching it splinter and fall in two smaller heaps. The chill of dawn was warmed little by the sun peaking over the horizon, a reminder of the Autumn season soon to come. ‘What name?’ Phil looked at him, confused before shoveling another mound of snow to make room for their new vegetable patch installment. ‘I know you well, mate, but I’m not a mind reader,’ he chuckled. ‘The Angel of Death- who first started callin’ you that?’ Techno elaborated. Phil heaved another shovel-full, ‘God, it’s been a while since someone’s called me that. I reckon it started way back, before the Antarctic Empire,’ he paused for a moment, his shoulders tense. ‘I remember when I was little, I had a pet bird and I used to let it sleep in my bed,’ Eyes downcast, the air seemed to grow chillier. ‘It was the night before my 6th birthday, and I had a dream that I was standing in a cave, the walls covered in this weird writing I couldn’t read and... I could hear a voice whispering to me, but there was no one there,’ Techno heard him suck in a breath before continuing, ‘It said: you are the angel of the men befallen to you, you are the choice you will wish to unchoose. An unvindicated angel, an angel of death.’ 

Techno’s axe was frozen in place, feeling significantly heavier than before. ‘The bird was dead when I woke up,’ Phil swallowed thickly, before plunging his shovel back into the slush. ‘That’s, uh... heavy stuff, Phil,’ Techno shifted uncomfortably. ‘Well, it was a long time ago now, I don’t really think about it much. It is a bit weird how people started calling me that a while afterwards, though,’ Phil chuckled dryly. Techno blinked, deciding to continue chopping firewood rather than probe the topic. It’s not like he had much of a need to fight now anyways, Techno was perfectly capable and willing to take on the world for Phil. 

From then on, time passed by quietly.

The Syndicate was formed, consisting of his fellow anarchists. Small battles were fought, but nothing extreme. Well, at least the ones Phil participated in. Techno’s bloodshed, however, did not slow. He was never one to insert himself into battles he had no stake in, but he found the “stakes” he held in the battles he fought became less about what he gained, and more so existed for the sake of fighting. Time passed, yet Techno never felt the effects of it.

The same could not be said for Phil, nor his peers. As the years passed, Phil seemed significantly older. The timeless winged angel he knew growing up seemed... ancient. As isolated as they originally were in the Tundra, the people he once knew became even further and further away.

The Winter winds of Snowchester became harsher than what Tubbo’s infrastructure could withstand. The damage to the buildings became too severe, Tubbo and Jack resigning to move to a warmer climate. Tommy went with them, unsurprisingly. Ranboo and Niki left the Syndicate to join them.

Eventually the Egg and its cultists seemed to disappear below the surface. The dead bloodvines oozed a mix of light blue and red when cut, any residual whispers too quiet to make out. Sam wasn’t seen outside the prison anymore now, and new visitors were always refused. George and Sapnap allegedly left Eastward towards a mycelium biome, the looming walls of Pandora’s box an apparently unpleasant reminder for them.

More people disappeared; their reasons unknown to Techno. Some set sail across the ocean in search for something new, something untainted. Some died in smaller territorial battles, or over Casino winnings. Others went to the Nether and never came back. Phil could only fly for short periods of time now, and it took a great toll on his body.

‘So, see anything new out there birdman?’ Techno inquired, brewing a potion of Swiftness II. ‘I saw a gravestone I never saw before, near L’Canyon,’ Phil coughed, slowly adjusting himself in his chair. ‘L’Canyon... I don’t remember anyone being buried there. Who’s was it?’ Techno asked, mildly interested. ‘The hedge stone was too eroded, it could’ve been written in Endlish for all I know,’ Phil paused for a moment, ‘You might be able to read it, you have better eyesight than me, mate.’ Techno looked at Phil, surprised. ‘That’ll be a pretty long journey by horse, we’ll have to load up on supplies,’ Techno muttered, adding another cup of Redstone powder into his brewing stand. ‘I’ll fly us,’ Phil smiled as Techno looked dumbfounded at the fragile man before him. He was pale, the feathers on his wings greyed, his face lined and tired. Techno swallowed, ‘Phil, I don’t think--’ ‘C’mon, mate. Just like old times. If we leave now, we’ll have plenty of daylight,’ Phil interrupted, placing a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. No matter his age, Phil was just as stubborn as always, so despite his better judgement Techno agreed on the trip. 

‘I’m still bringing a map, compass and overnight supplies in case we don’t make it before nightfall,’ Techno announced. ‘Of course, mate. I’m stubborn, not crazy-’ Phil was cut off by another fit of coughing. Techno eyed him nervously, ‘You’re sure you can hold my bodyweight, plus supplies?’ He inquired, dubiously. ‘Course, mate. Don’t stress about it,’ Phil reassured.

As anxious as Techno was, he trusted Phil’s judgement in his abilities. Plus, he couldn’t deny the rush he got from being in the sky. The wind flowing through his hair, the air fresh and crisp. He felt like a child again, riding on Phil’s back across the SMP. Soaring to the heavens at unimaginable speeds. He looked down at the pure whiteness that was their home, fading into dense spruce forestry, slowly becoming pure green Plains. Eventually, the green was abrupted by a deep, grey crater. 

They landed clunkily, more of a barely controlled fall than a proper landing. ‘You okay, Phil?’ Techno called out, standing up quickly, and wiping grass stains off his gleaming Netherite. Phil was further North of him, lying in a crowd of thistles. His body was contorted at a strange angle, ‘I’m ‘right,’ he called, his face wincing. Panic surged through Techno as he got closer, ‘Phil your bleeding, what the hell happened?’ He yelled, grabbing the medical kit out of his backpack. ‘It’s okay, mate. It was gonna happen soon, anyway,’ another labored breath, ‘Just wanted you to see the sky, one last time,’ He coughed, blood spurting across his chestplate. Techno hastily grabbed disinfecting wipes, Phil winced as his chestplate was removed.

A deep gash spread across Phil’s torso, below his ribs. His upper half impaled on a sharp tree stump shrouded within the thistles, his breath growing more ragged. ‘Phil- fuck. We’ve gotta get you off this thing,’ Techno swallowed, beads of sweat forming at his brow. ‘It’s too deep. The branch’s lodged in my intestines,’ he cringed, ‘at this angle, it’ll rip through my lung if you move me,’ Phil whispered, smiling weakly. He was right, the wood was splintered and lodged firmly in his core. Dark crimson blood leaked out from the gash like treacle, almost black and intense in volume. ‘I can- I’ll get healing potions from the house,’ Techno hyperventilated, wiping the disinfected cloth around the jagged and bloody stump. ‘If that doesn’t work, I’ll find a totem of undying-’ ‘Techno,’ Phil cut him off, placing a hand on his face. He hadn’t realized he had been crying until now. ‘It’s at least a 3 day walk back to the house on foot,’ Phil chuckled weakly, interrupted by a another fit of coughing. ‘Then what can- tell me what to do,’ Techno pleaded, wiping the cloth across the gash again and again as the crimson continued to leak out. 

‘Isn’t it painful, watching bleeding only to see more blood?’ Phil sighed, his breathing shallower, ‘It hurts but its undeniable, Techno...’

‘What is?’ Techno rasped, hands shaking.

‘...How good you are at wounding,’ Phil smiled, clasping his hand tightly. 

‘Phil, please’ Techno felt sick, his shoulders shaking. ‘It’s okay, Techno. I wanted this. I wanted to see the sky one more time,’ Phil swallowed, ‘-with you,’ His squeeze on Techno’s hand growing feebler. ‘Bury me at the gravestone I told you about,’ Phil’s eyes fluttered slightly. ‘But- I thought that was...’ Techno trailed off. 

It wasn’t fair. Phil had never betrayed him. He wasn’t stupid- his decision were always calculated. He was careful, he set traps around their base- he didn’t let his guard down. He wasn’t weak, he was an enemy’s worst nightmare on the battlefield. And yet, despite this, he died. Bleeding out, impaled and contorted near the shattered remains of his late son’s country. Phil died, just like everyone else.

Techno was alone. Phil, his constant, was gone. The other Syndicate members had disappeared, Wilbur died with L’Manburg and Tommy had long considered him an enemy. He was desolate and barren, the air felt cold as he sobbed loudly. His hands beat against the ground as he screamed until his throat grew hoarse. For the first time in his life, Techno ached. 

It had been weeks since Phil had passed, Techno felt too sick to eat or drink anything. The freezing nights did little to numb him, blistering days did little to warm him. His muscles did not deteriorate, nor did his legs give out beneath him. Physically, his body was fine. 

Back in the Tundra, his poison potions made him feel nauseous, potions of damage stung at his skin. No matter the mob, or the damage he sustained, he would respawn in his bed. The ache in his chest did not subside with time, the loneliness of the base encroaching upon him constantly. Yet, despite his stupid decisions, or letting his guard down around any mob he faced. Despite his weakness...

Technoblade never dies.

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Hi so that was an AU i wrote that got way too long lol. Hope you enjoyed! Likes/RBs appreciated :] <3.

[tigerseye46]

Same anon, sorry I keep requesting so much but Bajie and Wukong were married and Pigsy has remembered his previous life and started up his relationship with Wukong again. And Wukong wants to propose again but is scared of doing so. With B46/47/54/63? Thanks!

You’re fine! I love when people request stuff! Also I love this pairing so I don’t mind! I’m working on your other requests btw.

TW: Small mention of death and blood

B46. “I made you dinner.” B47. “I lit up candles and everything, you deserve to relax.” B54. “Marry me.” B63. “Don’t worry, you look beautiful.”

Wukong leans against the railing of the ship, his mind plagued with thoughts. He reaches for his pocket, feeling a box, he sighs and takes his hand out. He taps his fingers against the rail and glances at the silver bracelet around his wrist. He traces small patterns on the pink gem in the shape of a heart in the center.

It felt foreign to wear it after all this time, he was more used to keeping it on his person than his wrist but the feeling was welcome, it was a reminder that he had gotten his husband back.

His Bajie, his Pigsy, was finally with him again. It was a while before his love had gained his memories back and remembered their beautiful union. He recalls his husband telling him how confusing it was to sort out the memories especially with the memory of his death. Wukong gulps, it must have been hard, no, terrifying to remember your life flashing before your eyes as you bleed out.

Wukong shakes his head, better to push it to the back of his mind.

After their long talk about things which involved the king sobbing into the pig’s shoulder, they made the decision to take things slowly, go back to how it was when they were dating. Thank gods, the pig still had feelings for him.

It had been going remarkably well and Wukong decided that maybe he should propose again. How was he going to do that? Would the pig even say yes? Maybe he could do it the simple way or he could hold back.

Ugh. It felt more difficult this time.

He lets out a small sigh, his ears perk up when they pick up a “Wukong?”

The king turns to see his partner in his adorable pajamas. “Hi, love,” he greets with a soft smile. “What are you doing up?”

The pig snorts and approaches him. “I could ask ya the same thing. Why are ya up?”

“Just thinking, babe.”

“About?”

He flashes his teeth, the signature of his nervous grin. “Nothing.”

Pigsy crosses his arms. “Uh huh. You forget that I know you.”

He boops his snout. “That you do, babe, but don’t worry about it.”

“Are ya sure?”

“Completely.” He takes his partner’s palms. “Now why are you up, my lovely?”

“I was missin’ my boyfriend. Got sad when I woke up to see you not there.”

His smile drops to a frown. “I’m sorry, babe.”

Pigsy makes a dismissive hand gesture. “It’s no big deal, hon,” he replies and presses his head against his chest. “Just missed you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay.” He grabs Pigsy’s waist and rests his chin on top of his head, he kisses it. They stand there and take in each other’s scent, warmth filling their chests. They separate minutes later, their fingers intertwined.

“We used to do that a lot, huh?”

“Yep. Now let’s go back to bed.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The pig drags him back to their bed where Wukong gets changed into his own set of pajamas and makes sure that the small black box doesn’t peek out of the pocket of his other pants.

They lay beside each other and touch their foreheads, they share a long smooch and gentle words before drifting off to sleep. Wukong can figure it all out in the morning.

And he does so, planning out the best way to propose while hiding it all from Pigsy who suspects something is up.

He tells the others one night about his plans and they react with complete and utter joy, that manages to ease his nerves a little. He asks them to help by distracting Pigsy for a bit.

The king places the silverware on the table and lights some candles. He wipes his sweaty palms off on his pants then checks the item.

“Wukong,” his partner yells. Just in time, he hides it with haste. His partner steps towards him, his chin cocked to the side and a small curious frown marking his features. “What’s this?” He asks and gestures to the set up.

“I made you dinner. I lit up candles and everything, you deserve to relax,” he answers and pulls out a chair.

“Okay? I guess I’ll go with this.” He sits down, smooching his boyfriend’s cheek in thanks when his chair is pushed in. “Thank you, baby. You didn’t have to do this.”

He flops down in his chair and responds, “I wanted to.”

The pig nervously chuckled. “I wish ya would have told me. I could have worn a better outfit.”

“Don’t worry, you look beautiful.”

The pig ducks his head to hide his flushed cheeks. “Thank you. What did you make?”

Wukong opens the various dishes to reveal shrimp with vermicelli and garlic, peking roasted duck, spring rolls and Pigsy’s special noodles, made by Wukong but he did his best to follow the recipe to the letter. “Here.”

“Wow. You really went all out. Did I miss one of our anniversaries?”

“Nope. Just wanted to surprise you.” He smiles with teeth bared.

Pigsy crosses his arms. “Sure. Now let’s see.” He takes a bite of the peking duck and licks his lips. “Not bad. Although it could be better.”

The king scoffs. “I think I liked it better when you didn’t complain with what food you were given.”

“Times change.”

Wukong gulps and bobs his head. “Yea. Yea, they do.”

Recognizing the look on his partner’s face, he says, “This is great though, babe. I love it.”

“Thanks. I wanted it to be special.”

Pigsy twirls the fork in his hands. “So I did miss an occasion.”

“No, you didn’t. Can’t I just shower my beautiful partner with love?”

The chef’s cheeks glow with a pretty pink. “Yea, you can. I’m just checkin’.”

“Don’t worry about it, babe. You’d probably hear a lot of teasing if you missed one.”

“How is that different from normal?”

“It just is, my darling. Now let’s eat.” He gives the pig’s hand a gentle squeeze which is greatly returned.

They talk to each other about various topics and different memories, careful not to bring up anything too heavy. Their faces are lit up with red and when Pigsy’s giggles, Wukong decides he has to do this now while the pig is in a good mood.

He clutches his jeans and breathes deeply, his features shift to one of complete seriousness. “Pigsy…”

Pigsy stops in his tracks and places the hand that was near his mouth to his lap. He hardly ever sees the king this serious, only in dire circumstances. “Yes, Wukong?”

The king swallows, desperately trying to push the lump down his throat. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yea. Of course I know that. Is somethin’ wrong?”

He ignores the question with another of his own. “And you love me too?”

The pig scoffs and replies, “What if I say no?” The monkey sucks in a breath at the response and Pigsy frowns. “But yes, I love you very much. What is this about?”

“It’s just… I am so happy to have you back in my life. To know you still want me after all this time. That you still love me. When you…. When you passed, never once did I stop thinking of you. You were, are my everything. I love you no matter what life you take on. So what I’m trying to say is…”

He slowly lowers himself down on one knee. His partner’s jaw drops. “Wukong, what are you-?”

Wukong pulls out the box and opens it to reveal a shiny golden ring. His heart beats rapidly against his chest. “Marry me. Zhu Bajie, Pigsy, will you do me the honor of marrying me all over again?”

“Wukong, I…”

“I know we said we would take it slow but I can’t wait any longer. I finally have you back in my arms.”

“I…”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just thought it would be nice.”

He is about to ramble on again when his partner grabs his cheeks and tilts his head upwards. The pig has tears in the corner of his eyes. “You silly monkey, let me talk.” The king closes his mouth. “My answer is yes.”

“R-really?” The king questions, letting out a small undignified squeak.

“Yes! I’ve already married you once, I would love to marry you again. Did ya think I would say no?”

Wukong rubs the back of his neck. “I was kinda preparing for that, yea.”

“Silly monkey.” He sniffles and wipes his tears then places his arms around Wukong’s shoulders. “You could ask me a thousand times and the answer would always be yes. I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too.” Wukong slides the ring on his finger, they stare at each other before melding their lips together in a slow and passionate kiss. Their chests are full of butterflies. When they separate minutes later, they peck each other multiple times on the lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much too.”

They press their forehead together and enjoy each other’s warmth, staying there for hours.

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Thirty: Whatever Master Wants

(Previous Chapter Here)

Hey so I’ve been coming up with a more detailed outline and I like the titles I’ve come up with and before they were only on Ao3 but now I’m adding them here.

Also I’ve already completed 31 and 32 before this so yay you guys get three chapters in three days (yes this is the second time this has happened lol)

Cryptor takes a deep breath, trying to ground himsel- itself? He- that, it… uh.

The nindroid tries to redirect the thoughts to something else, but it- he- the. Cryptor- or, General?

Teeth gritting, the nindroid wishes that things would just make sense for once. Everything is such a blur, a mix of conflicting memories and orders and feelings. Or, well, the feelings are just programmed, so they aren’t real feelings…

Are they?

Sighing, the nindroid leans its- his head against the back of the locker. Life- or the digital program that mimics it- has never been so frustrating.

Well. That he can remember. It’s pretty sure that it’s missing some of his memories. They’re all so blurred- it can only faintly remember anything from before he was here.

The most prominent memory of before is about another nindroid. General doesn’t remember much else, but he can remember the other’s face, and a name to go with it.

Sentry.

But besides that… it’s all so glitchy. He thinks it can recall something about gold armor and a purple snake, but even that is hazy.

From the memories it has of the facility, it knows that he’s had some kind of connection to Original. Some gut feeling makes it think that he knew the other before, maybe even by a different name. But nothing is clear enough to make sense of.

It’s about to try and unscramble more of his past- hopefully remembering more about Sentry- when he suddenly registers footsteps coming from outside the locker.

Tensing, it stands up straight again, making sure to wipe away any and all emotion.

It’s really not in the mood to get hurt today.

He remains quiet and compliant as it’s taken out of the locker, keeping his gaze blank and straight, not risking any kind of eye contact.

It feels itself trying to frown as it recognizes them seemingly going towards the training room. They- General hasn’t been taken there in a while, usually it’s only when he does something wrong, but… it can’t recall disobeying any orders recently. What else could it have done? It’s been doing what it’s supposed to, why-

When he’s chained down, he feels another wave of confusion hit him. It thinks he can vaguely remember the official in front of him, but they definitely aren’t one of his prioritized masters. So why-

His thoughts are cut off by a sudden blast of electricity, and it can only barely muffle a curse at the intensity. Still, his mind is racing as it stares at the chains holding him.

They still haven’t told it what it did.

Shaking, trembling, Cryptor can only just barely stay quiet. Teeth clenched and gaze lowered, it takes everything it has to hold himself together. What-

A particularly sharp and painful blast finally tears a real cry of pain out of his chest, leaving him panting.

Trembling, it finally looks up at the official. He knows it’s not supposed to make eye contact but at the moment, he’s too confused and stressed to care.

“Master?” It gets out, hoping that the way his voice is cracking will be ignored. It pauses, waiting for the official to reply. But much to his dismay, the only response is another painful shock.

A low pained gasp leaves it at the sharp pain, and in that moment, Cryptor makes a decision.

Fuck the rules, he wants to know what the hell is going on.

“Master!” He repeats, louder this time. “I- what am I being punished for? I- I want to know to avoid it in the future.”

As soon as the words are out, it curses itself internally. No, he’s not supposed to say ‘want’, they don’t like it when he implies he can feel or have desires, it-

The official studies him for a moment before he replies. “You didn’t,” he answers.

The confusion only increases. “What?” It questions, fighting the desperation that begs for it to strain against the chains. “What- what do you mean?”

“You haven’t done anything, General.”

“Then why-“

“Because.” The official glares. “You’re not alive. It doesn’t matter what I do to you. I’m human, and I’ve chosen to bring you here, and that’s all that matters.”

Shock floods through his systems. Staring, he tries to wrap his head around the words. What- no! No, it’s one thing to be punished for a mistake, but that- he can’t-

“That’s not fair!” Cryptor snarls out the words before he can stop himself. “If I didn’t do anything wrong, then-“

The words are cut off by his own cry of pain as the voltage is abruptly raised, a wave of agony flashing over him.

Gasping, it can feel its power source heating up in panic. Okay, okay, this- usually when he’s punished, there’s something he can do to lessen it. It’s not allowed to beg for mercy, but usually if it accepts the punishment and agrees that it deserves it and acknowledges the mistake then that’s considered good enough. What is he supposed to do here? Just… suffer?

Cryptor lowers its gaze, trembling. Everything inside it is screaming, screaming to resist, screaming to submit, screaming incoherently to the point where it can barely even register the world around it, the only thing that even seems to exist in that moment is the pain flooding its systems.

It’s times like this that he wishes he was allowed to lower his sensitivity. It’d be really helpful if he could just numb himself to these unfairly painful shocks.

Every moment that passes feels like an eternity. It doesn’t have anything to focus on, no behaviors to reconsider, no rules to remind itself of, no realizations it can make. The only thing he can do is just sit there with the agony.

It’s not allowed to beg for mercy, either. As a nindroid, he shouldn’t be able to have these wants or desires, and definitely not enough to cry for it.

Shaking, General feels himself slowly losing more and more control. Everything inside is a mess, everything is so murky and blurry and confused and it hurts-

Faintly, he can hear a door open. It’s a struggle, but he manages to direct his attention towards it- a thing that thankfully becomes easier as the shocks lessen some. Master had probably gotten distracted by whoever had-

Kyle.

Shit.

The blond walks into the room, glancing around the scene. “Hey, wh-” With a sudden pause, he looks between the official and Cryptor. “Wait, what's going on?”

Cryptor keeps his head down. It knows that it’s not supposed to have preferences- he thinks- but Kyle has always been a source of fear for it. Or, well, digital fear.

Even though it’s not looking directly, it can still see the official turning to look at Kyle. “Training program,” he answers. “Out of your jurisdiction, I believe.”

“Out of my- What do you mean? I work on this project, I should know!” The blond looks over at Cryptor again, and this time it makes sure to avoid any kind of reaction, even as the shocks continue.

He sounds annoyed and maybe even a little angry- both things that never end well for General.

Although Kyle has been acting differently recently… it’s not really sure why, though. Probably some other kind of test.

He risks glancing up to see the encounter. Something important seems to be going on here…

“My orders came from above you,” the official glares. “This is none of your concern.”

While maintaining eye contact with the blond, he hits General with an even more intense shock- and this time, it’s only just barely able to prevent itself from crying out.

“Oh, I can promise you it is,” Kyle growls, the words pointed enough to almost make the nindroid start trembling.

“What the fuck is going on?”

The electricity seems to be increasing in power- another test. Or, well, it probably really is just the official trying to vent- Kyle doesn’t seem to be helping the matter.

Through the rising pain, Cryptor keeps his teeth clenched, forcing it down. The official doesn’t seem to be backing down, and it’s kinda starting to hope Kyle wins whatever argument this is- Cryptor thinks it prefers tests and punishments to being used as a punching bag.

“Look, why don’t you go back to your job?” The official sounds almost condescending, now. “I’m sure your supervisor is looking for you.”

“Oh, my supervisor? So you think I'm just some intern?” Kyle chuckles dangerously, the sound all too familiar to the nindroid.

“Does the name 'Kyle Griffin' ring any bells for you?”

The words are spoken conversationally, but there’s a sharp underlying threat beneath them.

General can only barely see through the pain at this point- until it suddenly stops, and he can only barely stop the relieved gasp from escaping him at the sudden release.

The official stumbles back, looking at the blond with a horrified expression. “Wh- wait, you’re…”

“Yep, it's me. I know I don't look like what people might expect.” Kyle wears a tight, forced smile, even though he doesn’t seem to be trying to hide the threat in his voice. “And if you don't want to know what you'd look like fired, I suggest you go report to your superior before I go report to Marth- Ms. Finch.”

Cryptor feels programmed shock settle into him as he watches the official nod his agreement and start backing towards the door- even picking up his pace when Kyle intensifies his glare.

When he’s gone, and the footsteps have fully receded, the blond sighs with a small shake of his head. “Can't believe I still have to pull out the 'Martha' card these days,” he mutters to himself.

It has to force itself not to tense up when he comes up to it, crouching down to the nindroid’s level.

“Hey. Have the shocks stopped?” He prompts, wearing an almost sympathetic smile.

For a moment, all it can do is stare. After that, the realization that he’s ignoring a direct question hits him like a bucket of ice water, and it quickly nods. “They- they have, Master,” he confirms.

“It hurts, what they're doing to you, doesn’t it?” Kyle shakes his head ever so slightly. “I mean, I know for a fact it's been worse than before.”

Cryptor ignores the way the blond’s eyes scan over him in favor of trying to figure out if he’s supposed to answer that. Was that a rhetorical question? Or does he actually want to know if it hurts? Well, obviously he knows it does, but-

It quickly pushes the thoughts from his mind and chooses to try and answer. Better safe than sorry, right?

“Yes, Master,” it agrees quietly. How could any of this not hurt?

Kyle sighs, still with that sympathetic look. “But you're stubborn. You won't let yourself go, even when you know it'll lessen the sting.” The words sound almost consoling, somehow sounding so wrong and so right at the same time.

“Maybe it's time you let go, you know,” he says gently. “Because they won't stop until you do."

It’s a struggle to keep itself from shaking. This is just… it’s the crux of the war that he’s been waging all this time. Stay or go? Yes or no? Fight or yield?

“You can stop, now,” Kyle assures. “It's way easier. You've been fighting a losing battle. Don't you think it needs to end?”

After hesitating for one final moment, General nods. “Yes, Master,” it gets out, the waver in its voice steadying towards the end.

Looking back down at the ground, it feels an almost peaceful feeling overtake it. A calmness after the war that’s been raging for so long.

“It does,” it says simply.

And it has.

[cakejots]

Unstained, Chapter 1

After certain events that happened in the day, Chat Noir revealed to Ladybug that he knows who she is under the mask. Her reactions astounded him. After certain events that happened in the night, Ladybug unveiled to Chat Noir why she can’t do what he asked of her. His reactions astonished her.

Rating: T, Words: 6938. Chapters: 4/4

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

Read on AO3

Exiting from the bakery with a sigh, Marinette was glad that she had at least 15 mins to spare and relax before returning to class. The bakery had a massive order to attend to and Marinette wanted to ease the burden on her parents. She just hoped that the pastries she had for lunch were enough to last.

*SLAM*

Marinette jumped and looked up to find the source of that sound a few metres ahead of her. Adrien had just stormed out of his car and up the stairs into the school court. She regarded his back and did not bother to look at the car leaving the school grounds. Something seemed off.

Not long after the car left, Adrien’s head peeked from the entrance door, and he darted out of school.

Something is clearly wrong.

“You are a failure as an Agreste.”

These words were still fresh within Adrien’s mind. His day was already as agonising as it is, given that it is his final year in lycée, he had a ton of workload to deal with on top of his private lessons and whatnot he had agreed to as conditions set by his father.

That was fine. Those were fine.

After all, he would do anything to avoid getting locked up in that mansion again.

Yet, during his lunch ‘talk’ with his father, he had to go the extra mile to make Adrien feel like shit.

“Think pragmatically, that degree you have chosen is useless and brings no benefits to the family business.”

How dare he deemed the degree Adrien had in mind useless. How dare he assume that Adrien would even want to continue working under him. How dare he imply that he is not capable of making his own decisions.

His father did not even address his name throughout the whole ‘discussion’.

“Your mother would have hated how you turned out to be.”

He stopped running. No! His mother would have supported his decisions. His mother would have— his mother would have…

What would his mother have done?

Had he really left his memories of her behind to the point where he can’t remember much anymore? Had he really moved that much forward that his mother meant nothing anymore?

That admission had Adrien taking a step back and tears welling up in his eyes.

Would his mother have really hated him?

His surroundings were silent, so silent that he could footsteps running towards him.

“Adrien!”

He turned his head to see Marinette running towards him. But before he could wipe his tears away from his face, he heard a voice speaking in his mind.

.

As soon as she saw the cursed butterfly fluttering towards Adrien, Marinette bolted towards him and shouted his name.

But it was too late. A purple mask was already visible on his face. Marinette ran harder and made sure to ram into him to sway his focus from his mind. Her hands were on his shoulders, shaking him violently, with tears flowing down her face.

“No, no, no, no, please, please, please! Adrien, fight it! Nothing good comes out of this, please!” Marinette cried.

She will do anything to prevent a repeat of that timeline.

She will do anything to protect her kitty.

Marinette grabbed his face and slammed her lips onto his, hoping that shock was able to jerk him out of his trance.

She pulled back and looked him in the eye; his eyes had widened but he was not looking at her.

This is not good. This is definitely not good.

Adrien was not responding, which meant that the brainwashing was going well. Marinette sobbed. She needed to transform as soon as possible to restrain Chat Blanc. She knew where the Akuma had gone. She would make sure the fight ended as soon as it started.

No, she had to.

“Save me,” Chat Blanc pleaded all those years ago.

Marinette hugged Adrien and whispered, “wait for me, I’ll definitely save you this time.”

And with great reluctance, she left his side.

.

“What do you… ?”

Adrien was barely listening to Hawkmoth. His astonishment that Marinette had just kissed him roughly was enough to ignore and reject Hawkmoth’s offer. The purple butterfly materialised on his ring and fluttered away.

And save me? What did she mean by that?

At the same time, Ladybug dropped right in front of him, disbelief written on her face.

Adrien was surprised to see her. What was she doing here? Did he miss patrol? Was there an Akuma attack? Akuma?

Adrien clutched his head as his memories from moments before came rushing back to him, reminding him that he was the one who was in the process of transforming into an Akuma. The last thing Adrien remembered was Marinette calling for his name.

Adrien quickly checked his phone and surroundings, there were no Akuma alerts, and they were in a secluded area. There was no way anyone else knew about the Akuma appearing. Adrien also recalled that they had a patrol planned, but that was supposed to happen at night. Adrien became aware of his own heartbeat. For Ladybug to appear on the scene so quickly—

Marinette is Ladybug.

Ladybug’s shoulders visibly sagged and she let loose a sigh of relief. She was about to turn around and leave when Adrien grabbed her forearm.

Marinette?

That was what he would have like to say, but he respected his lady’s insistence on secret identities, so instead, he went with:

“Ladybug? Is something wrong? Where’s the Akuma?” Adrien asked with concern as he took notice of Ladybug’s red eyes.

“No no, just patrolling the area, have to keep Paris safe and all!” Ladybug reassured.

Adrien unwillingly let go of her hand but nodded nonetheless. At this, Ladybug faced him and placed her hands on his shoulders firmly.

“Adrien, if something is bothering you, please don’t hesitate to reach out to a friend. It’s a lot better than keeping it all bottled up inside.”

Marinette was the only one who saw his tears. He now had real confirmation that Marinette is Ladybug, and replied with a smile that doesn't quite reach the eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Thank you for the advice.”

.

Looking at the illuminated lights from the ground to the sky, Ladybug was sitting at the edge of a random building, waiting on Chat before they began their patrol. The scenery in front of her might not have existed if she failed to—

Ladybug heaved a sigh. That was all over now, she would not think about it any longer. Ladybug was so impressed that Adrien was able to break free from Hawkmoth’s connection. An affectionate smile fell on her lips, and she made a mental note to bring his favourite passion fruit flavoured pastries the next time they meet up for patrol. It was too late to go back to the bakery now that he was arriving at their meetup spot.

She stood as Chat Noir landed behind her.

“Ladybug… I know who you are.”

She froze, before turning her head towards him. “Huh?”

“I know who you are behind the mask,” he clarified while looking nervous.

“How?”

“If I tell you, I’ll… I’ll risk giving out my identity,” unease laced in his voice.

“Fair. Then, who am I?” She was fully facing him now.

“You’re… you’re Marinette.”

Ladybug stared. She stared at him for so long that he legitimately thought he had gotten it wrong.

Until she seemed more relaxed than she had ever been the whole day.

“Guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?” She quipped with a quick bark of laughter.

She sat back down and petted the area next to her.

Chat was not expecting her to react like this. Shocked and disbelief at his discovery? Yes. But laughter? Never. His heart broke at the sight of Ladybug so near her breaking point, and furious at himself for not reaching out to her more. He knew that living the double life was tough, it was something he hoped no one experienced. But now that he knew Marinette is Ladybug, he felt even more anguished. The burden she carried must be equivalent, if not more than what he had.

He cautiously approached her side and took a seat. Ladybug was now looking at the sky with her palms placed behind her on the roof tile beneath them, seemingly regarding the vast canvas before them. He figured he followed suit, to enjoy whatever this was before the inevitable “talk” happened.

“Ladybug, are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, just exhausted is all,” she breathed.

Time passed, and noises can be heard all throughout the bustling city. But between the two of them, silence reigned. Feeling anxious with the quietness of the situation, coupled with his curiosity, Chat Noir broke the ice with that one question he has had ever since he discovered Ladybug’s identity.

So he asked, and she answered.

“So, are you going to take my Miraculous away?”

“I suppose.”

[pupuprinssi]

Merry Christmas and such. Here’s a small fic. ❤

Jon blinks. The lights in the archives are bright and the smell of mulled wine is so strong it's almost nauseatingly pungent and sweet, and he has little memory how he came to be there. At first, he panics; it's a reasonable response to finding one's self in the midst of a situation that cannot be recalled or reasoned with. But it feels... benign. It feels celebratory, so he leans back in his chair and takes a breath, tries to remember how he got there before making any rash decisions. There is a mug there on his table, the same table he's been working at for years, on top of a statement he assumes he was interrupted examining if not reading when the mug arrived. He touches it with his fingertips, the warm side of it, to assure himself that it is real and this is not a hallucination. His head aches a little, but everything seems to be alright; the mug is corporeal enough, its ceramic side smooth and polished, and as he turns it he feels a little... awkward reading the text printed upon its side. Tears of my employees, it states. The tears are red, the pungent and sweet smell lingering heavy in the steam that rises from them. Jon forces himself to laugh a little. He doesn't remember how the mug's gotten there, but... it feels appropriate enough. With a shiver he turns the text away from himself and lifts the mug to his lips, if only to continue reassuring himself that this is normal.

Of course it's normal. This is the Institute he works at. This is his... his office, his territory, his Archive. It seems significant, but it's mundane. He's been here for years, hasn't he?

He drinks the mulled wine and places the mug back on the table. Yes, everything is as it should be. He's just tired. He doesn't sleep well, after all. That sounds like him. His fingertips turn the page of the statement idly before he leans over it and clears his throat.

*

"Hold it," Martin breathes out, and Tim's fingers wrap around the kitten more firmly.

It's struggling, the little beast. Sasha doesn't look like she approves of what they're doing.

"Hey, Sasha? It's a cat. It'll be fine," Tim tells her, noticing the same sour look upon her features. "Cats love boxes."

"Could you just wrap a ribbon around it or something?" Sasha asks. "This just seems cruel for no particular reason. It doesn't have to be literally wrapped up."

"It's fine, Sasha, I'm leaving it a lot of space to breathe. It'll only be there for like, five minutes," Martin assures her. He's almost finished measuring the square of wrappings they need to cover the whole cardboard box. The paper's got some cartoony trees printed upon it with little golden, metallic stars on top of them and floating about the space inbetween. He's feeling a little... antsy, really. Jon makes him feel that way. It's nothing new, of course, he just... he's just a little bit in love. It's fine. That's how it should be. It feels right. "Okay. Drop her in, will you?"

Tim grabs the kitten under its tiny arms, and it meows loudly in protest even as he cups its behind in his palm. He lifts it up to his face and smiles at it, fingertip running down the top of its small head and between the two grey-brown, black-tipped tabby ears - they've got little tufts of fur on top sticking up like a lynx's ears. Martin watches him, unable to help the soft smile on his face. Jon's going to love it. They've talked about it before, haven't they? Martin can't exactly remember, but he knows Jon's wanted a cat for a long time. This one's a... a rescue. Someone's accidental litter. It's going to be a great cat for Jon, and Martin had to get it because... because Jon's never going to, right? He doesn't plan for the future like that. He's too stuck being a workaholic. He needs something to get him going home in the evenings.

Martin lifts the box and holds the top open, and Tim lifts the cat up above it and slowly places it inside. The kitten meows again even as its body meets the towels inside that Martin brought from home to have them smelling like him, but it appears to calm down soon and curiously sniffs around itself even as the lid of the box is closed again. Sasha lets out a disapproving sigh, but doesn't contest it when Martin places the box down on the square of paper laid out on the floor and begins to wrap it up.

"You know they say don't ever buy an animal for somebody else as a Christmas present? That's how you get strays," she says then.

"Ah, drop it, Sasha," Tim says cheerfully, stretching his arms up above his head. "Martin's right, Jon's never going to do it and he needs something soft and warm to cuddle at night that isn't literally Martin. Maybe it'll relax him a little bit, I don't know. Really, it's harmless. He'll love it."

"Well, just tell him I'll take the cat if he ends up feeling like he has to give her up," Sasha says with weight in her words, and Martin nods.

"I'll tell him that. It's going to be ok, Sasha, we've talked about it before. He wants a cat, it's just... never a good time for him. So, you know. We just thought we'd pick a good time for him."

Sasha leans her body to Martin's office desk and lifts up her mug of eggnog. Tim notices and parts his eyes from the box now containing a small cat, and he lifts his gaze to Sasha, smirking. It takes Sasha a moment to realise her drink has been contaminated.

"You didn't," she says, barely containing a snort to retain her fake-judgemental voice.

"Oh, I'd never," Tim reassures her, smiling brightly.

Martin eyes his own eggnog suspiciously, but he's got his hands full of wrapping paper and tape. The truth will have to wait. *

There's a knock on the door. It comes at a good moment: the mulled wine he drank almost without noticing was most certainly alcoholic and Jon can feel it in his relaxed, warm body. His anxiety's toned down and everything feels temporarily almost alright, even though the statement he spoke into his recorder still lingers at the edges of his consciousness where he's laid it to rest.

"Come in," he calls clearly through the haze.

Martin peeks his head in, and Jon's chest tightens. He smiles a genuine, relieved smile, although he's uncertain why he feels that way at the sight of him. Maybe he was afraid Martin wouldn't be there. After all, he's still not really sure how he ended up there himself - he just knows that it's alright that they're all there. They... all. Yes; behind Martin he can see Sasha peeking in, and behind them stands Tim, carrying a thermos with him. They all file into the room and close the door behind them. Martin at the head has his arms wrapped around a gift-wrapped square, and Jon has the creeping feeling he'll be the recipient of it.

"Ready for a second round?" Tim asks, stepping forwards and leaving Jon no time to decline before he's already poured him a second mug of the same mulled wine. "Nice mug."

Jon tilts his head a little uncertainly, attempting a smile. "Thank you," he says, not for the comment on his mug but for the drink that he didn't ask for. He's got a feeling that he wants to be a little intoxicated today, that he's been due for a little relaxation for a long time now.

"Don't drink too much," Martin says as he steps up next, taking Tim's place at the front. "Tim's probably been more than a little heavy-handed with that, if the eggnog is anything to go by."

"I'm just making sure we're all having a good time and we all know that the only way to have a good time at the Magnus Institute is to be really, really drunk so you don't know that you're there to begin with," Tim states in a contented tone.

Martin rolls his eyes and places the box in front of Jon. "Merry Christmas, Jon."

Jon reaches his hand forwards, then retreats it and glances up at Martin. He's smiling so softly, his eyes warm as they meet Jon's, and Jon's heart skips a beat. He smiles back and pulls his mug closer as if for emotional support, and then he looks down at the box which is... making a sound, a scratching sound that alarms him, makes him question where he is again. Is it something bad? Will something change if he opens it? He picks up the little card attached to the ribbon.

"From Martin, Tim and Sasha. To Jon." The back of the card, in Sasha's handwriting, states: "Open quickly."

Jon lifts his gaze back to Martin for comfort. If Martin's there then nothing inside the box can be that bad. It'll be alright, he knows it will. He knows it like it's plain as day to him, the only thing he needs is to reassure himself that Martin's with him. He wouldn't take a noisy box like that from anybody else but he trusts Martin, at least. He loves Martin. The thought warms him up almost as much as the mouthful of mulled wine he drinks before he sets his fingers to the task of unwrapping a cardboard box. There's a sound... a sound that a little baby might make, he thinks, and his hands stop over the box for a moment. No, not a baby, a baby animal: it's either a little whimper or a meow. His lips part and his heart races a little faster, and he turns the flap of the box to pull it up.

Inside he finds a tiny, curious tabby: black stripes, yellow eyes, white paws and chest and a brownish coat underneath all those markings. Its little pink nose lifts up and sniffs his fingers and it meows again, lifting its paws onto the edge of the box and pulling itself up to climb out, but the box is too tall, so Jon reaches in and helps it onto his hands. It's so small, so fragile in his palms and so completely unthreatening and mundane and good that he almost tears up at the sight. The silence in the room is ringing in his ears before he lifts his gaze, and he's got that stupid smile of wonder on his face that he knows makes him look at least ten years younger than he is, and a hundred younger than he feels.

"Thank you," he breathes out.

Martin chuckles. Sasha exchanges looks with Tim, who's grinning in his usual way.

"We all thought you needed a friend," Martin says, daring to step closer to the desk again. His hands land on the edge and he breathes out, shivering before a chuckle escapes him. "You can name her whatever you'd like."

Jon's holding the cat against his chest now, and she's very quiet there, no longer struggling but simply soaking up his warmth. He feels an emotion he can't really describe that makes him reach out his other hand and touch Martin on the cheek, and Martin closes his eyes and smiles and leans closer, and they kiss softly over the desk. The audience lets out a mixed response: Sasha chuckles, Tim sighs.

"There they go again," Tim says, that same grin lingering in his voice.

Jon ignores him. "Would you help me pick a name?" he asks, his lips still very close to Martin's.

"Tonight after work?" Martin asks, and Jon nods.

He knows that they're headed for the same address - wherever in London that is. It all feels... very good now; so very real that he can almost believe it.

[celestialmark]

Solitude - Part 5 (finale)

Characters: Mark Lee x reader, members of nct

Category: sniper! mark, mafia au

Word count: 15.8K

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death, blood, violence, drugs, guns. 

Navigation: preview | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue 

Author’s note: hello hi! it’s been soooooo long, how are you guys? I hope you’re well and healthy! so after how many months of working on this series, I am so happy to share to you the final part! I'm so sorry for the wait, life really does come at you full blast at times hahaha but I had so much fun writing this series as a whole and I just want to thank you for patiently waiting for each part to come out regardless of how long it took me to write it ;; thank you so much for journeying with me and the characters throughout the whole five parts! all that’s left is the epilogue now! I do hope you enjoy it! and once again, thank you all so much <3 ilysm!!! 

“What happened?”

Mark is the first to come through the door that’s barely hanging off its hinge. He sees Taeil pacing back and forth the hallway, phone in his hand, his distraught eyes scanning all the furniture that’s broken to pieces and overthrown to the floor. Johnny and Jeno are the ones to follow after, walking past Mark and examining the damage behind Taeil.

“Mark!” Taeil exclaims. Mark can see his fingers shaking. “They, they took her. She’s gone.”

“Who took her?” Mark asks calmly just as Johnny and Jeno fall beside him. He’s trying to stay calm but on the inside, Mark is anything but calm knowing you were somewhere they didn’t know.

“I don’t know,” Taeil says weakly, his voice faltering. “I woke up and y/n wasn’t in her room anymore.”

Jeno looks upwards and scans the entirety of Taeil’s house. “Do you have CCTV around the house?”

Taeil is quick to nod, “I do. But they destroyed the cameras too. I’m not sure if there’s anything there.”

“Can we have a look?” Johnny asks.

Taeil leads Johnny and Jeno away while Mark makes a conscious decision to stay behind and look around the place a bit more. In his mind, he’s already pointing fingers to potential suspects but he knows he can’t act without solid evidence first. His thoughts drift to you as he steps over the remnants of the damage, feeling worried all of a sudden with the thought of you being scared.

Mark bends down when a shattered picture frame catches his attention. When he picks it up, carefully removing the broken shards of glass, you’re the first one he sees on the picture, along with Taeil who’s grinning widely beside you, an arm slung around your shoulder. There’s a date stamped on the bottom left corner and from what he recalls, it’s the date of your birthday. You look so happy in the photo, your smile travelling to reach your eyes and it saddens him that the last memory he has of you, was when you gave him a sad smile yesterday, both of you unknowing and unsure of what’s ahead.

“That was the last birthday she ever celebrated before her parents died,” Taeil pipes up from behind Mark when he sees him holding the photo. He bends down beside Mark, smiling somberly. “The last time I’ve seen her smile like that too.”

Mark’s heart clenches at the thought of you having to go through so much suffering in the absence of your only family. You had such a blinding smile in the photo, it literally pains him to think that even that, had been taken away from you.

“She’s been through so much,” he says quietly, feeling too helpless and clueless of where even to start.

“You know,” Taeil starts, averting his eyes from the photo and onto Mark. “Yesterday, she told me what happened I felt really relieved when she said she’d found her soulmate and that her soulmate was you.”

Mark looks at Taeil. “Taeil, I almost killed her.”

“But you didn’t,” Taeil corrects and he smiles. “Mark, do you know the exact percentage of the amount of people who get to meet their soulmate?”

Mark blinks.

“A little less than forty percent,” Taeil points out. “Even though we’re all pretty much born with one, with a mark on our skin, it doesn’t guarantee we get to meet them. Hell, I’ve never even met mine and I don’t think I’ll ever will.”

“But you…” Taeil pauses and claps a palm on Mark’s back. “You’ve found yours. You’ve found her,”

“And I find great comfort in that because there’s someone out there who will for sure look after her for the rest of her life.” Taeil stands and extends a hand out to Mark who takes it, pulling him up. 

“You’re the closest thing to family she has left, Mark.”

On the return to the loft, Mark is the last to enter when Johnny and Jeno lead the way with Taeil trailing right behind them. Mark is about to enter the door when someone grabs a hold of his arm and pulls him backwards. What meets him next is a hard fist to his cheek causing his whole body to sway to the side, a groan coming from his throat. His head spins momentarily and when he regains his balance with much difficulty, he sees Donghyuck who’s in the middle of swinging another fist at him, this time landing on his other cheek, sending him flying to the opposite direction. Mark grunts lowly again, feeling his lower lip split open. His fingers fly up to examine the damage and it comes in contact with his blood, the stinging on either of his cheeks so raw and painful. It’s expected, Donghyuck had always been the strongest one when it came to physical fights.

Mark doesn’t get enough time to process the whole situation fully when Donghyuck grabs him by the collar of his shirt, hauling him until his face is mere inches away. “How dare you fucking betray Taeyong?” he hisses. “What’s gotten into you Mark Lee?”

Johnny rushes back outside when he hears the commotion, immediately breaking the two apart. “Hey quit it!” He blocks Donghyuck from Mark, who’s panting from the blows, still trying to recover from the impact of Donghyuck’s fists.

“You have no sense of loyalty whatsoever you traitor!” Donghyuck growls, trying to push past Johnny, pointing an accusing finger at Mark. “After all that Taeyong’s done for you!”

“Donghyuck stop it,” Johnny advises as politely as he can. Donghyuck may be strong, but Johnny was definitely stronger.

Donghyuck gasps for air, his screaming not ending soon, “And all for what? For a girl? For a pathetic girl who’s going to die anyway? Wake up Mark! She’s not worth—”

“Donghyuck she’s my soulmate,” Mark interferes quietly, eyes imploring his angry ones, hoping he would somehow understand, hoping that his best friend out of all people would console him.

But he doesn’t.

Donghyuck frowns and attempts to push past Johnny again but to no avail, “What the fuck? That’s the reason why you turned your back on Taeyong? That’s a lousy excuse. That doesn’t mean anything! She’s still supposed to die—”

Mark doesn’t hold back, walking up to Donghyuck and swatting Johnny’s arm away in the process. With Mark’s already balled fist, he swings back and lands a forceful blow on his face. Still, Mark isn’t content, giving Donghyuck another blow when Donghyuck stumbles backwards. Mark is about to swing again if it wasn’t for Johnny who has to use all his might to pull the younger back. Mark is fuming and Johnny can feel it in the way his chest rises and falls heavily along with the shaking of his shoulders.

“You don’t know shit Donghyuck!” Mark roars. “You can’t say shit about me or y/n when you have no fucking clue what’s happening!”

Donghyuck spits blood to the side, his eyes glowering as they fall on Mark. “Look how pitiful you’ve become Mark,” he gestures at his friend, scoffing at him as he rests his hands on either side of his hips. “You think saving a girl will make your life a whole lot better? What did you say? A soulmate? How fucking ridiculous.”

Jeno and Taeil emerge from the doorway and watch the scene unfold quietly. Donghyuck catches sight of Jeno and scoffs once more, shaking his head, “And you’ve gotten Jeno to join you in the dumb ordeal.”

Donghyuck turns around to leave, but not before sparing one last look at Mark and the rest,

“Good luck to you, bastard.”

“Based on the footage caught in Taeil’s CCTV just moments before they destroyed it, it was definitely Kun’s doing,” Jeno announces, spreading out screenshots from the CCTV footage onto the coffee table minutes after the commotion outside settles.

Mark studies the pictures and frowns, “How do you know that? These guys are masked.” He switches from one picture to another until he comes across a blurry screenshot of an unmasked Kun in the middle of trying to make his way into Taeil’s house. 

“What do these people want from y/n?” Taeil, who’s sitting on the couch asks, frowning at the pictures.

“Revenge,” Jeno replies curtly.

A sudden lightbulb goes off in Mark’s head. “Taeil, y/n’s mentioned how she was nearly stabbed before, if it wasn’t for you. What happened that day?”

Taeil nods and shivers as he recalls the memory. “I was supposed to pick up something from her house when I found her front door open which was really unusual because she always made sure to extra lock her doors for safety ever since she began getting threats. I went in and found someone with a knife literally metres away from her. When the stranger realised I was there, he ran away but not before slashing me with his knife.” Taeil lifts the hem of his shirt until a scar located to the side of his lower abdomen comes into view for the three to see.

Johnny grimaces as Mark forms a fist.

“Can you remember what he looked like? What he was wearing?” Johnny questions.

Taeil taps his chin with his index finger, “He was wearing all black, really tall guy. We couldn’t see his face because he was wearing a hood too. But I did see a tattoo of a wolf all over his middle finger.”

Jeno frantically types away in his laptop the moment Taeil finishes talking and not even three seconds later, he’s already turning his laptop around so that the three can see his screen. “It was Lucas.” On the screen shows a picture of Lucas as well as the tattoo Taeil described on the said finger.

“Lucas is under Kun,” Johnny explains to Taeil. “Kun was the person behind the death threats.”

“For what reason?” Taeil questions.

“Y/n’s parents owed him a lot of money,” Jeno says, returning his laptop in its original position in front of him. “Same goes for Taeyong and the main reason why a lot of people are after her life.”

“So does that mean one of them is behind the murder of y/n’s parents?”

Mark shakes his head, “Not sure. It’s not Taeyong. And we don’t have evidence Kun did it.”

Jeno pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Wait. You said Yuta wanted y/n as well right? In exchange for the proposed deal?” Mark nods. “Did he give you a time limit or some sort?”

“A week.”

“From what Jeno has been telling me about this guy, I don’t think he’s the type to sit around and do nothing for a whole week,” Johnny suggest, crossing his arms just as his brows knit together in utter concentration. “You’re sure Kun’s behind y/n’s kidnapping?”

Jeno nods and firmly and gestures to the pictures, “Taeil’s CCTV says so.”

“And who is this Yuta guy?” Taeil asks, dumbfounded, scratching and tilting his head upwards.

“Some mafia guy from Japan who also happens to want y/n’s life,” Johnny replies with a frustrated sigh, nothing was adding up.

Taeil’s eyes widen, “Just exactly how many different people are after y/n?”

“Just the people we’ve mentioned,” Jeno answers and clucks his tongue after, “So far.”

Mark suddenly stands up from the couch and grabs his jacket in the process. Taeil and Jeno watch him and when he’s about to walk past Johnny, the elder stops him from going further by placing a hand across his chest.

“Woah, where are you going?”

“Kun’s,” Mark replies. “I want to see if she’s there.”

“Are you crazy? We don’t even know where they’ve kept her,” Johnny reasons, brows knitting together in the middle. “They wouldn’t keep her somewhere so obvious, Mark. Why don’t we do a little more research.”

“Johnny, I have to start somewhere,” Mark defends, eyes hard. “Every second that passes is making me worry so much it’s making me crazy.”

Johnny nods understandingly and drops his arm, “Okay but let’s not act so irrationally. We have to—“

“Johnny, I have to go,” Mark insists. “I have to know she’s okay.. I, I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to her.”

Johnny sighs and nods after a few seconds of finally giving in, “Let me go with you at least.”

You’re hungry, thirsty and beyond exhausted. You don’t even know what time of the day it is or where you are because of the blindfold that’s been covering your eyes the moment you were snatched out of your bed this morning. There’s fear running through your veins as a bead of sweat rolls down the side of your face, too helpless to do anything with your hands tied harshly to your back with a rope that feels painfully aggressive on your skin. You couldn’t even scream for help, the cloth tied around your head to cover your mouth, feels too bitter on your tongue. But what you do know is that you’re in a moving vehicle, in a corner of what you imagine to be a container van, the occasional bumps along the round making you sway in your seat. But more than fear, you’re preparing yourself for the worst, for the probability of the end because you’ve been running for as long as you can remember and at this point,

you just wanted it all to stop.

Someone grabs you by the shoulders when the van comes to a complete halt. There’s indistinct yelling in the distance but you don’t make out the words, the growing pains in your body you didn’t notice before, becoming too prominent it makes you groan involuntarily as you’re forced to stand. You’re led out the van and when your feet comes in contact with the ground, you hear multiple footsteps coming in all directions.

“Bring her to the back,” one of them says and your head immediately snaps to its direction before you’re being pulled away again. Whoever was clutching on to your arm, was definitely not the most gentle, their grip on you sure to leave marks on your skin later or maybe even bruises. The more you squirmed under their hold to signal how uncomfortable it’s becoming, the more they seemed to clutch you tighter.

You know you’ve reached your destination when the stranger shoves you away from them, finally letting you go. The sound of the door shutting rings in your ears and not long after, you hear the door being locked. With no concrete plan in mind, you walk around aimlessly, hoping to find at least something, or even just get a feel of where you are. Minutes of shuffling only bring you to a conclusion that you’re most likely in an empty desolate room with the lack of furniture you thought you were going to bump into, only ever coming in contact with walls in all directions you’ve possibly covered.

You heave a sigh, falling to the ground when the exhaustion catches up to you. You scoot blindly until your back comes in contact with the nearest wall, your shoulders drooping instantly when it relieves the pressure. You’re panting, the energy left in you becoming depleted with each passing second and you’re sure you’ll pass out soon, the subtle ache in your head beginning to pound against your skull.

The click of the lock becoming undone awakens your senses with the door emitting a screech as it opens following a second after. Your head is directed straight ahead and you vaguely estimate the door’s located to your right, judging from the footsteps that are coming from that direction and towards you.

You feel someone in front of you and they say nothing when they’re reaching for your mouth cover, pulling it down until it falls around your neck to set your mouth free.

“Who are you?” You demand, your throat dry and your voice hoarse from not having spoken all day. You know you’re not going to get an answer though and your futile attempts of trying to guess who’s behind all of this becomes tossed aside when they don’t speak to answer your question. Instead, you feel fingers graze your chin, tilting it upwards. You feel the tip of what you guess is a bottle touching your lips.

“Water,” they say, voice low and deep and you know it’s belonging to a man. You down the water straight after, the temporary hydration making you feel a little better. He lets go shortly after he’s sure you’ve had enough. You hear him move away from you then but you feel his lingering presence, eyes on your helpless state.

He says nothing more, the only sound getting lost in the suffocating air being the door shutting and locked.

“Renjun?”

Almost everyone’s heads in the room follow where Mark is looking the moment he calls out the said person’s name. Renjun is there, standing awkwardly by the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he grows too conscious by everyone’s questioning eyes.

“H-hi,” Renjun utters quite lowly, a complete contrast to his usual demeanour that exuded confidence.

Mark tears his eyes off Renjun and shifts his attention to Jeno who had been staring at Renjun just a few moments ago before redirecting his focus to his laptop. “We could do with a bit of help,” Jeno mutters when he feels Mark’s eyes linger on him.

“Wow, you knew about this too?” Renjun asks when he sits beside Johnny. Johnny nods and ruffles the younger’s hair with a brotherly smile. Renjun’s eyes fall on the stranger sitting across him, “Renjun.”

“Taeil.”

“So I’m guessing Taeyong told you guys?” Mark asks cautiously, still pacing back and forth the floorboards in poor attempts to keep calm.

Renjun nods, “Yeah. He isn’t happy. Which is expected, I mean, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“What about the others?” Jeno questions.

Renjun shrugs, “Donghyuck stormed off to somewhere and Jaemin… I don’t know where he is. I tried to get him to come here.”

Johnny points at Mark, an unamused expression on his face, “Well, Donghyuck stormed here and punched Mark a few times.”

Renjun blinks, “Sounds like him.” He leans forward and laces his hands together as he rests his elbows on his thighs. “So what’s your plan?” he directs the question to Mark who takes a moment to stop his legs from taking further steps, contemplating Renjun’s question too hard.

“None yet,” Johnny answers when Mark doesn’t.

Renjun raises a brow, “None? That doesn’t sound like you,” he genuinely sounds confused, still directing his words to Mark. “You always have a plan.”

At a loss for words, the silence drags on for seconds, everyone now blinking up at Mark. Johnny and Jeno silently agree with Renjun, thinking back to all the times Mark had conjured up excellent plans even under pressure and even under lives were at stake. Mark knows Renjun is right and the lack of concrete plans even after hours of brainstorming proves how much he fears for your life; any wrong move, and it can cost everything he’s trying to protect.

And even when Mark doesn’t say anything, just excuses himself to get some fresh air, Renjun understands. And so does Johnny and Jeno when they see the confusion and dread in Mark’s eyes before he leaves. Renjun releases a sigh. In all the years he’s known Mark, never has he seen the member be so stuck in a predicament and now that he’s confronted with a Mark who appears so helpless, he isn’t so sure what he can do to help ease the burden on his shoulders. Renjun runs a hand through his hair in frustration before staring directly at Jeno.

“Okay, so what do we have so far?”

Jeno and Renjun are discussing amongst themselves with the occasional pitch in of ideas from Johnny and Taeil, their chatters resonating in Mark’s loft along with the tapping of Jeno on his keyboard. Johnny takes it upon himself to begin sketching helpful diagrams and notes they would find useful in the future while Renjun and Taeil analyse the situation over and over again while trying to think of potential events that could go wrong once they do try and attack.

All of this comes to a halt when someone, Jaemin, bursts through the door in a panic. Renjun can already tell Jaemin is going to bring nothing but bad news by the way he’s panting and from the distraught on his face.

“They have Donghyuck.”

Kun is smirking when he sees his desired target sitting helplessly on the chair before him, hands tied to the back to render him powerless and defenceless. Donghyuck’s  face is dotted with bruises, glaring up at Kun the moment he was forcefully pushed down to take a seat. Kun’s smirk grows wider by the second, taking too much pleasure in the defeat of the enemy in front of him.

“We can do this the easy way,” Kun announces menacingly, “Or the hard way if you choose not to cooperate.”

Hendery, Lucas and Sicheng are standing behind Kun, watching the scene before them unfold. Hendery and Lucas are enjoying just as much as Kun is, having been the ones who had made all of this possible.

Donghyuck stays silent on the chair, the loathing in his orbs intensifying, his hands behind his back twitching and aching to land a fist to Kun’s face.

“Alright, let’s get started shall we?”

Kun circles Donghyuck’s chair once, an arm folded across his chest while he uses the other to tap a finger on his chin. “How much has Yuta offered Taeyong in exchange for that arms and drugs deal?”

Donghyuck doesn’t bat an eyelash nor does his features give way no matter how surprising it might have been for him for Kun to have some knowledge about their overseas affairs.

“Well?” Kun asks a moment after when silence ensues, bending down to meet Donghyuck’s eye level. Donghyuck’s eyes are seething and it only heightens Kun’s amusement. Kun doesn’t hesitate though, delivering a forceful blow on Donghyuck’s left cheek, making the hostage swing to the side.

“You asked for the hard way, you’re getting the hard way.” Kun straightens up briefly, rubbing his knuckles with his palm. “I’ll ask you again,” his voice rigid. “How much did Yuta offer?”

Donghyuck raises a brow and spits out blood pooling in his mouth from the punch before smirking up at Kun, “And how come you just can’t seem to ever mind your own business?”

Kun clenches his teeth and strikes at Donghyuck again, this time on his stomach, making him groan in agony yet still managing to smirk afterwards. No way was Donghyuck going to give Kun the satisfaction of seeing him suffer no matter how many blows he was going to get.

“What is it? Too incompetent to even get that info without needing to take one of us hostage?” Donghyuck challenges, as the corner of his lip begin to swell. A mocking laugh emits from his mouth after, “How pathetic,” he grins but his eyes piercing. “As usual.”

Kun is about to come for him again when he stops himself, realising how easily he’s been biting Donghyuck’s accusations. He takes a step back, a stoic expression finding appearing on his face as his brow arches upwards, “Alright, let me change the question.”

Donghyuck narrows his eyes at him.

Kun grins.

“How much did Yuta offer for y/n?”

You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep, for who knows how long, until you’re being jolt awake with the feeling of someone bumping into you. You gasp in horror as the stranger groans beside you, doubling over in pain after he’s thrown to the ground.

“Wait!” he yells rather loudly as he scrambles in his spot and what you hear next is the door being slammed shut again. You scoot away from him, suddenly feeling extremely cautious of the unknown man in the same room as you. Though you figure he’s being held captive just as you were.

“Y/n?” he calls out toward the direction you’re resting yourself against the wall which, apparently isn’t too far from where he is despite your efforts to move away. You jump in your spot slightly at the sound of your name being called. It’s a voice you’ve never heard before. It wasn’t Johnny and most definitely not Mark.

You listen as he scrambles again, trying to pull your hands apart in hopes of snapping the rope into two so that you could defend yourself for the danger you felt was about to come your way. Your efforts are in vain and before you know it, you feel his presence right next to you. You hold your breath as your heart hammers against your ribs, preparing yourself for the worst.

“One sec,” he mumbles and even when his voice comes across as reassuring, you don’t let go of the breath you’re holding. You feel him move even closer to you and you grow weary with the way you feel his breath tickle your skin. You feel him swerve away from your face and settle onto the side of your head as you stay completely still, too scared to even move an inch. But then it dawns on you what he’s doing when your blindfold is lifted away from your eyes, the faint light of the bulb above, too harsh on your eyesight for a few seconds.

A moment passes and you’re successful in readjusting your vision to your surroundings. That’s when your eyes land on the person in the same room as you, dropping your blindfold to the ground, that had been in between his teeth seconds prior. His hair is messy, strands sticking out in all directions and face mottled with bruises and cuts, hands tied to his back in the same way as you. He looks like he’s about to pass out anytime soon with the way he’s panting hard to catch his breath but he doesn’t, only stares at you.

“Shit, you really are alive,” he says, eyes growing wide.

You frown, trying to add bits and pieces together from his statement but nothing’s coming to mind, the possibility of who he might be, too wide. “W-who are you?”

The boy with brown hair opens his mouth but doesn’t speak and you know he’s hesitating. You have a small inkling that he knows you too well than you might have expected. “Donghyuck,” he answers not too long after.

You don’t even need more than a second to remember who he is. This guy is one of the people who wants you killed. No wonder he looked oddly familiar, you had caught a glimpse of him at the day of your shooting and he was the one beside Mark in that photo you came across. Instinctively, you move further away from him, the thought of what he could do to you right now drilling into your head despite the tie around his hands.

“You know who I am?” he asks carefully, eyes too gentle to even want to kill you at this moment.

You nod slowly, “You were there, when I was shot.”

Donghyuck blinks and confirms your answer with a nod of his head. You watch as he scans you from head to toe wearily and slowly. “Did, did they hurt you?”

You don’t remember criminals to be this concerned about their target’s wellbeing but then you remember how Mark and Jeno proved you wrong. Donghyuck sounds genuinely concerned and he doesn’t stop searching your body for any signs of injuries even when you eye him in suspicion, too doubtful of his kindness. “No, they didn’t.” You swear you see him sign in relief.

“Why are you here?” You ask, not really sure whether he heard you or not with how quiet your voice came out that originally intended. “And what happened to your face?”

Donghyuck grins mockingly, “Kun’s boys don’t exactly like me.”

“Wait, this is Kun’s doing?” you ask, finally getting an answer to what you’ve been pondering ever since your abduction.

Donghyuck nods, then raises a brow. “How do you know Kun?”

“Kun is after my life,” you reply curtly. “That’s why I’m here.”

Donghyuck raises a brow, “How did Kun find out you’re alive?”

You shrug your shoulders, “No idea. Jeno says it’s got something to do with Kun tailing you guys’ backs since day one.”

Donghyuck smirks again, “Well, we take pride in that.” The smirk disappears just as fast as it appears when he leans forward. “Wait, why does Kun want you killed?”

“Apparently my parents owe him money. It’s for the same reason as Taeyong. Revenge, they said.” He nods slowly then, letting all of it make sense in his head. “Donghyuck, what day is it?”

“Wednesday.”

“Woah, okay I’ve been here for a day.”

“Yeah, I heard the guys are going crazy trying to figure out how to get you out of here,” Donghyuck points out, looking around the empty room.

“Guys?”

“Johnny, Jeno and Mark.”

You think of Mark then, your heart clenching at the reminder of missing him.

Donghyuck smiles at you when he catches you blinking into nothing.

“No worries, y/n. We’re going to get out of here, I know how.”

Jaemin and Renjun are busy trying to develop a plan on how to get you and Donghyuck back with Jeno and Taeil in the living room while Mark has excused himself out of their sight to give himself time and space to think and re-evaluate the whole situation. Nothing is making sense and it’s making his head ache, the pounding of his brain against his skull only worsening with the mere thought of your life in danger. He doesn’t remember ever feeling this worried nor determined to save someone else’s life, not even the guys. It’s an unusual feeling for him, foreign almost, to put someone else’s safety and life before his own. All Mark remembers ever feeling is the sheer conviction of staying alive from all the other times he’s been so close to actually losing his life. 

He figures he’s fought greatly up until now so he could save yours. 

Mark lower his head from staring up at the sky in his conservatory when he feels a presence step in his space. He finds Johnny beside him, an ice pack held out in his hand. “Gotta look after yourself too before you can save y/n.” 

Mark musters a small smile as he takes the ice pack from Johnny, thoughts of you making him momentarily forget about the hard blows he received earlier in the day. When the cold finally sinks in his skin, he feels relief wash over him for the first time ever since you were gone and it soothes the pain on his cheeks he didn’t even notice until now. 

“She must really mean a whole lot to you, huh,” Johnny says, looking straight out the window. 

Mark snaps his head to the side and finds Johnny smiling slightly, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. Mark redirects his gaze ahead when he repeats his words in his head a few times to grasp what they mean. “I.. I guess.” 

“I don’t think I've ever seen you this worked up about anything, anyone before,” Johnny adds, his tone friendly and coated with ease, an utter contrast to how Mark has been all day. “It’s... good to see.” 

Mark raises a brow but lets out a scoff, “Y/n being in danger isn’t good to see, Johnny.” 

Johnny finds the strength to laugh, trying his best to lift the younger’s mood, knowing painfully well just what he's feeling. “I meant seeing you care for someone else this much is good to see.” 

Mark lowers the ice pack from his face and purses his lips as he dips his head low, his eyes now meeting the floor. Johnny’s right. Mark felt it. The short span of time he isn’t around you is enough proof of that. And he knows it’s not just because you’re his soulmate, though it’s somewhat a big part of the reason. 

“Y/n... I don’t know,” Mark begins although unsure of what to say next. “Just, I just, I feel the need to protect her you know? No, I want to protect her. And it’s not just because I’m the reason why she’s in this mess, even though that’s a part of it too. I just, I,” Mark stops to catch a breath when he feels the words getting caught in is throat. He lifts his head upwards before exhaling, “I just, want to keep her safe. By all means. Even if it costs my life. And I can’t think about anything else but her, and getting her out of there.” 

Mark shakes his head after he utters his final sentence, wondering just when he began to feel this way. “Is this what soulmates do to you?” 

Johnny chuckles with a shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe.” 

Mark rolls his eyes and nudges Johnny’s side with his elbow. “Thanks for the advice.” 

Johnny falls silent, his thoughts taking him to Ari, a sudden gush of longing overtaking him. He smiles fondly to himself at the thought of her, at the realisation of seeing himself in Mark when he was once put in a similar situation some time back. He remembers how good it felt, how exhilarating everything had become and how everything appeared a lot more colourful somehow whenever Ari was around. 

“I think,” Johnny smiles wider at the memory of Ari smiling at him blissfully, “It doesn’t take much for you to eventually feel like you’ve lost all control. One day, you’re living your life normally like you always do, and then the next, it all changes, everything you thought you knew, you’re suddenly questioning.” 

Johnny turns to Mark who’s now staring at him with curious eyes, “We’re all born with a soulmate and beyond our reasoning and understanding, it just... happens, loving them becomes second nature even before we know it.” 

Mark half smiles, his thoughts drifting to you as Johnny speaks, feeling the words fit all too well. “I think it’s crazy how the universe works sometimes.. How can it just know, how can it just know Y/n is the one for me from the beginning.” 

“There will always be things we will never understand and sometimes, I think, not knowing is better,” Johnny smiles again, “We just gotta be thankful.. To be given someone in this lifetime you feel in your bones you will love for the rest of your life.” 

Mark runs a hand through his hair and lets out another chuckle, “I don’t even know if she feels the same. She probably hates me right now after all that’s happened.”

“So you love her?” 

Mark blinks. 

Then he turns to Johnny again, a frown now evident on his face, “Do soulmates guarantee.. that the other feels the same?” 

Johnny laughs, feeling all too relieved to lift Mark’s spirits up briefly during such a challenging time. “There’s only one way to find out Mark.” 

Mark’s shoulders droop almost instantly at the reminder of your absence and at the reminder of the impending danger if he didn’t act soon. Johnny sees it and senses the younger’s anxiety shoot up even more. He claps a palm to Mark’s back, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. 

“We’ll save her, alright?” Johnny reassures, earning a small smile from Mark. 

There was no way Johnny was going to let Mark experience what he did. 

You watch in awe as Donghyuck frees himself from the rope that once held his wrists together. You’re not too sure how he’s done it, only ever seeing him wriggle here and there for what seemed like a few short minutes before he’s moving over to you to get rid of your restraints. You heave a huge sigh of relief when your wrists finally become free, your fingers immediately flying to rub the now burning skin. Donghyuck takes both of your hands to haul you up on your feet, dusting off your dirty clothes when you find your balance.

Donghyuck surveys the empty room, its dirty white washed walls not really giving much option for an escape. He examines all four corners, until his eyes stop on the rectangular glass windows lining up a portion of the far wall, opposite the door. Donghyuck walks closer to it and draws a conclusion this room must be basement from being able to make out the ground through the blur of the dirt of the panes. The windows look too small for two people to escape through, the height of it seemingly a bit too high with a width that’s almost too narrow, meeting the ceiling and Donghyuck isn’t too sure either where this route will lead to nor is it guaranteed there is no one keeping watch on the other side.

But they’ve got to try. And they’ve got to try quick.

“Step back y/n,” he warns lowly, mentally calculating the mechanics of what he’s about to do. You don’t say anything when you follow as Donghyuck says, secretly growing weary of the dark glint in his eyes you didn’t see before.

Donghyuck takes two steps backwards before he’s charging forward, his right arm drawn back fully with his hand forming a firm fist. His fist meets the glass in less than second when he pulls his arm forward, the momentum he’s gained from his short jog adding to the strength in which his arms could muster. You wince in your spot when you hear a bang, the mere sight of Donghyuck trying to dismantle the glass making you feel the pain on your own wrist. You turn around to look away when Donghyuck charges again, the glass merely deflecting his efforts the first time around.

The glass cracks the second time and on the third, Donghyuck uses all his might to finally break it, shards of glass falling to the ground, some falling outwards on the ground. Donghyuck hisses when his fist begins to bleed, small pieces of glass digging into skin. He’s shaking his right palm as blood trickles down his fingers at an alarming rate.

“Donghyuck!” you exclaim as you run up to him and study the damage on his hand. Bright red blood gushes in more than one spot on his bruised skin and you’re extra careful when you gently pick at the shards that had sunk into his skin. Donghyuck stays still and lets you do what you’re doing as he continues to investigate the gap he’s made. It’s dark outside and the lack of light coming from outside makes Donghyuck hopeful that no one is out there to guard.

When Donghyuck looks back down, there’s a cloth wrapped around his knuckles and he realises it’s the blindfold he once took off your eyes. “Donghyuck we have to wash it,” you absentmindedly say when you finish tying a knot to keep it in place.

“Y/n, that’s the least of our worries right now,” Donghyuck says sternly. “We have to get out of here.”

He pulls you towards the window then and your eyes widen with the idea that’s now beginning to unfold in your mind. “I’ll go up first so I can help you from up there,” Donghyuck is already moving before you can even process his words.

Donghyuck climbs with ease, stealthily sliding himself through the gap, broken glass dropping to the floor when he does. In no time, he’s successfully made it outside and stays lying on his stomach with his hands outstretched to you. “Come on,” he urges. “Run towards me and jump and I’ll catch you.”

You nod in determination, wanting to get out desperately and feeling the need not to disappoint Donghyuck. You do as Donghyuck says and when you jump, he catches your hands as promised. Donghyuck uses his incredible strength to haul you upwards and you begin to worry when you see his knuckles bleed through the thin cloth. You purse your lips together as you use your feet to scramble against the wall just as Donghyuck grits his teeth hard to pull you out.

But you’re screaming the next second when you feel being aggressively pulled from the wall, strong arms wrapped around your body until your hands are no longer grasping Donghyuck’s. You’re thrashing around, kicking your legs into the air to try and rid of the body that’s keeping you from leaving, but they’re way stronger than you and already carrying you out through the door you didn’t notice had become opened during your attempt at escaping.

“Keep still,” the man carrying you growls into your ear and you recognise him as the same man who had given you water yesterday.

You catch a glimpse of Donghyuck when you look back and he nods firmly at you before he’s getting up on his feet to make a run.

Donghyuck won’t let you down. His eyes said so.

Donghyuck runs frantically for his life, his legs having no sense of direction with the only focus of escaping to bring help to you before the worst can happen. He’s relieved when he comes across no one in his path, but skeptical with the lack of people guarding the opponent’s headquarters. Nonetheless, he sets that thought aside and exerts his remaining energy in seeking refuge.

Donghyuck falls back on the ground when his body collides with someone else’s after a sharp turn. He groans inwardly, his head spinning as he lands on his injured hand, feeling a new gush of blood seeping out the cracks of his skin. Donghyuck can only see a silhouette when he looks up, eyes squinting to adjust to the light behind the stranger after having ran in the dark for so long.

“Hyuck!”

He recognises that voice anywhere.

“God— ow, that hurt like a bitch,” Donghyuck curses under his breath, letting his guard down completely when Mark helps him up off the ground. “Watch where you’re going idiot!”

Mark rolls his eyes, “I should be the one saying that to you.”

Behind Mark, Johnny emerges who is now staring at Donghyuck. “What happened to your face?” Johnny asks, eyeing the younger from head to toe. “You look horrible.”

Donghyuck swipes the back of his hand across his swollen lower lip, “Kun happened.”

“Jaemin said they caught you,” Mark says, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of the situation. “What happened?”

Donghyuck shrugs, “They took me on the way home from yours earlier. You know, Lucas, Xiaojun and Sicheng?” Mark and Johnny nod. “Yeah, them lot. Thought they’d just taken me for the fun of it, since you know, they hate our guts. Turns out they wanted information from me.”

“Information?” Johnny asks.

Donghyuck rests his palms on either side of his hips. “Yeah, about Nakamoto. Didn’t budge though, that’s why they beat me up.”

“Wait, they know about Yuta?” Johnny questions, the pieces of the puzzle seemingly not adding up to make up a picture that makes sense.

Donghyuck nods, “Y/n’s in there too, Mark. I tried to get her out with me but Xiaojun caught her just in time.”

At the mention of your name, Mark’s hands balls into fists, chills covering every inch of his skin at the thought of you hurting under their mercy. Mark purses his lips in sheer anger, mentally promising to get rid of anyone who dared lay a finger on you.

“What are you guys doing here anyway?” Donghyuck inquires.

“We came as soon as we got the news about you,” Johnny answers. “And because we had our suspicions they had y/n too. We were going to get you both out.”

Mark doesn’t hear a word Johnny says when he pushes past Donghyuck, the thought of saving you the only thing running in his mind, the hours of structuring a plan flying out the window. Every moment that passes where he’s unsure about your safety, the more impulsive he becomes into compromising his life just to save yours.

Donghyuck is quick to get in Mark’s way, succeeding in stopping him in his tracks. “Mark, going in there isn’t a good idea.”

“What do you mean! She’s in there Hyuck— I have to save her.”

Donghyuck firmly stops Mark again with a palm to his best friend’s chest. “Stop,” he calls out and looks at Mark straight in the eye. The desperation in his friend’s eye is devastating because it spoke of just how much he was willing to give up just to save you. “I need you to listen to me. And I need you to listen well.”

Johnny steps in beside Mark to make sure he doesn’t move an inch. When Donghyuck is sure he’s gotten all of Mark’s attention, he begins but not before drawing in a deep breath, “When I was in there, Kun asked me about everything I knew about Yuta and Taeyong’s proposed deal. Mark, they know about our shit. Somehow they’ve found out. Now is the time to be careful and not take any careless chances.”

“Hyuck what are you trying to say—“

“Kun asked me how much Yuta offered in exchange for y/n,” Donghyuck’s voice suddenly lowers, as if to save the remaining intact parts of Mark to refrain them from shattering.

“Mark, I think they’re giving y/n to Yuta for money.”

“It’s happening tomorrow, Kun’s boys are leaving their headquarters one by one to secure the the port they’re meeting at tomorrow,” Jeno announces, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“We have to get to them before they can even meet Yuta,” Mark insists, his hands clasped tightly together, sitting on the centre of the counter table, the rest of the boys sitting on either sides in front of him.

Johnny leans forward into the table and shakes his head, “They’re on high alert Mark, they know as much as we do, how dangerous of a person Yuta is. Going in there to snatch someone they could get millions for is basically a death wish.”

“But wouldn’t it be more dangerous if we go in there at a later time?” Renjun points out, tapping is chin. “Intervening when Kun and Yuta’s guys is the biggest death wish to me. We’d be outnumbered,” Renjun pauses and glances at everyone around the table. “By a lot.”

“And knowing Kun’s boys and how much they hate us, they definitely wouldn’t hesitate to kill, especially if there’s a lot of money on the line,” Donghyuck adds, his bruised and wounded face now all patched up thanks to Johnny.

There’s silence for a while, everyone getting lost in their own thoughts. As much as Mark hated to admit it, everything his comrades had said was right and as much as he wanted to save you, he didn’t want to put anyone’s lives in danger like that, even though his job literally meant risking his life every day. He wanted as little casualties on his end as possible. It was the least he owed his friends for being in on this despite it being against their will and against Taeyong.

“Jeno is there any way we can meet Yuta before tomorrow?” Mark asks lowly, his eyes hard and directed at Jeno.

Jeno blinks once before he’s typing away again, all eyes now on him, “He’s supposed to be arriving sometime tomorrow in the morning and according to my sources, he’s supposed to be leaving the day after. I think we can possibly meet him if get in contact with him now.”

“And can we do that?”

Jeno nods and cranes his neck towards Renjun, “Renjun and I will trace his contact.”

Mark nods gratefully. “Thanks.”

“What do you plan on telling him?” Johnny asks, looking up from where he sits on the couch.

Mark draws in a breath, “I don’t know yet. I just have to talk to him before they do.”

“You don’t want to get through to Kun first?” Jaemin asks curiously.

Mark spares a glance in Donghyuck’s direction, guilt seeping in him to see his friend in such a state. Mark shakes his head firmly, “No. He has his eyes set on Yuta. He’s never gonna settle for anything less than what Yuta would have offered him, and I’m guessing it’s a lot.”

Jaemin nods slowly, realising how much Mark must have thought this through in his head.

“But I’m going to need eyes on Kun,” Mark continues, rubbing his chin with his thumb and index finger. “Just so I know they’re not harming her while I negotiate with Yuta.”

Johnny volunteers as he nods, “I’ll do that.” He turns to Taeil beside him, “Taeil will help me.”

Taeil blinks unsurely at the mention of his name but nods after a good five seconds when Johnny’s words finally sink in. “Yeah, we’ll keep an eye.”

And no one sleeps for the rest of the night. Jeno, Renjun and Jaemin study the blueprint of the port Jeno has somehow managed to get his hands on, locating potential hideouts to put themselves in until they can execute their plan. Johnny and Donghyuck are in a corner teaching Taeil some of basic self defence, knowing he’s never fought anyone in his life ever while Mark is busy readying his guns for tomorrow, a sick feeling coating the pit of his stomach when he realises he’s in the room you came across that day you realised he was the one who had shot you. He sets his sniper down and turns to find your picture still pinned on the board. He takes it and examines the picture in a way he has never before. It’s a random photo of you he had gotten off the internet, but taking a closer look now, it’s one of you smiling, your smile reaching your eyes. You looked beautiful, he thinks and the guilt of putting you in more danger than you already were in seeps in stronger than ever. Mark swears he’d never be able to forgive himself if there was anything to happen to you.

Mark continues to long for you as he keeps gazing at your photo, he doesn’t notice Donghyuck sliding in the room until he’s beside him and craning his neck to look at where Mark’s attention is focused on.

“H-Hyuck,” Mark calls out as he clears his throat, setting the picture aside.

Donghyuck throws him a knowing look before picking up a small gun previously laid on the table, “Miss her already?”

Mark is about to shrug Donghyuck’s question off knowing he wasn’t usually the one to talk about these things, but Mark feels it’s okay to be vulnerable tonight, especially to the friend who knows him the best. “Yeah, I do,” he finally admits, dropping his head low.

Donghyuck smiles a little, satisfied Mark trusts him with this side of him, a rare side one would never think he possessed because with what Mark did for a living, there was almost always no room for emotions or second guesses.

“We’ll save her, okay?” Donghyuck attempts to console his friend, the feeling unfamiliar to him for the mere fact they’ve never been put in this situation before. “We really will.”

Mark smiles gratefully as he glances at Donghyuck. “Hyuck, what really happened today? How did Kun catch you like that?”

Donghyuck disassembles the gun he’s been holding with ease before he turns to Mark, an already apologetic glint in his eyes. “I, when I left after screaming at your face earlier, I thought about what you said. And Kun’s boys aren’t exactly the discrete type of people so I found out about them having y/n earlier. and,” Donghyuck sighs, “I realised just how important she was to you.. you know after you punched me like that because you’d never do that. You’d never do that to any of us. Never. So I knew I had to do something.. I, I don’t want what happened to Ari happen again.”

“So I went in there, without a plan in mind, just the thought of needing to do something. And I thought I had it, I thought I had her. Turns out Kun needed me for other reasons too and made their job of abducting me a whole lot easier for them,” Donghyuck stifles a laugh.

“You were there to save y/n?”

Donghyuck nods. “Not sure what I was thinking, it was really irrational. But.”

“I realised she might just be what you have left..” Donghyuck trails off. “I mean you have us, you’re always going to have us. But, soulmates are different I guess, even though I literally said they meant nothing earlier. I guess I needed you to punch me a few times before I could finally understand.”

Donghyuck sighs and turns to Mark, “Look, I’m sorry for what I did to you earlier and for all the things I said. I guess, I was just too angry at the thought of betraying Taeyong and keeping everything from us but after thinking about it now, I think I understand better why you did what you did.”

Mark breaks out into a small smile. “I’m sorry for punching you too.”

Donghyuck grins, “Nah, I deserved it.”

The two chuckle together, bruised cheeks lifting into smiles.

“She’s gonna be okay. We’ll make sure of that.” 

And Mark believes and holds onto his best friend’s words. 

Mark kicks at the ground outside his parked car just when the sun is about to peek from behind the horizon. The air is cold and crisp, the occasional breeze blowing towards his direction making him ball his fists deeper into the pockets of his jeans. The sound of the water hitting against the shore echoes into the stillness of the air and it offers Mark some sort of comfort, his mind unconsciously bringing him back to the time he confessed to you, to that morning he explained just why he had tried so hard to save you. And just when his mind is about to completely become filled by thoughts of you, his chest tightening at how much he just wants to see you, the sounds of cars pulling up in the distance snapping him out of his trance. Mark instinctively straightens his back and pulls himself from against his car, twisting his body to greet the oncoming cars coming his direction. He lifts his wrist to view, the time on his watch reading seven forty in the morning, the exact estimated time Jeno and Renjun had predicted in the earlier hours of dawn during the planning process.

Mark steps in the middle of the road when the series of cars drive nearer to him until they eventually come to a stop when he impedes their path. Mark lifts his chin up in full confidence, inhaling a breath of hair to prepare himself of what’s to come. Securing a meeting with Yuta was impossible despite Jeno’s skills and so interfering like this to buy even five minutes of his time had to do.

The driver of the first car opens the door of the van and steps outside, eyes trained on Mark with a frown. Mark spots the gun tucked underneath his belt but doesn’t cower. “Who are you?” the stranger, a big man, inquires, coming forward but far enough from Mark as a precaution.

“I need to talk to your boss,” Mark replies calmly. “I know he’s in the car behind yours.”

“My boss doesn’t see just anyone,” the man replies sternly, crossing his arms across his chest just as another man, who had been sitting on the passenger seat, exit the vehicle also. “And it really isn’t a good idea for you to be out here either.”

Mark scoffs and tears his eyes off the two men momentarily, darting them to the ground before looking back up at them again. “Is that a threat?” Mark was going to do anything to spare a few minutes of Yuta’s time but it didn’t mean he was going to submit to them so hastily, knowing all too well how quickly they’d be in control of the situation if he lets them.

“You decide,” the second man replies, slightly smaller in build than the other. “The fact that you know who we are, should be enough for you to decide.”

Mark makes sure the two sees him roll his eyes, to ensure they know he’s clearly mocking them. “I think I’ll decide once I’ve gotten a word with your boss.”

“And how many times to we have to remind you it’s not possible?”

Mark mirrors the man’s actions by crossing his arms across his chest. “Tell him it’s Mark Lee. Either you do that right now or we stay here like this all day.” Mark’s voice shift in an instant, his tone lowering and deepening just as his eyes darken in the same way. “And I'm sure neither of you,” Mark leans to his side and eyes the cars lined up before standing straight again, “Or everyone else here has the time.”

The two exchange unsure glances until one of them eventually walks away to make his way to what Mark can make out to be car behind the one in his view. Mark taps his foot at the ground as he waits impatiently, the man left behind watching him closely.

It isn’t long before Mark hears another car door opening and shutting in the near distance and another moment that passes further before Nakamoto Yuta comes into view, a small smirk already playing at his lips. He walks forward, two of his men following closely behind him.

“Ah, Mark Lee,” Yuta greets with a sinister smile when he stops in his steps, a metre away from Mark. “I haven’t heard from you since.”

Mark shrugs his shoulders, “We couldn’t get through you for some reason.” The only reason why Yuta severed ties was only because he knew you were in someone else’s hands now, shifting his focus completely to whoever had a hold of you, despite attempts of making negotiations with Mark first during the initial encounter in Japan, a fact that Mark knew very well, getting a good grasp of who this Nakamoto Yuta really was.

Yuta breathes a laugh, “I’m a busy man. I must have missed you,” he tries to shrug off even though he knows Mark isn’t buying it. He shakes his head a raises both of his brows, “Well, what brings you here today?”

“I’m here to propose a deal,” Mark replies instantly, refusing to beat around the bush.

“A deal?”

Mark nods firmly. “Double of what Taeyong initially proposed you.”

Yuta arches a brow, the corner of his lips turning upwards. “That’s quite a deal Mark. Does Taeyong know about this?”

Mark ignores the question and keeps his eyes trained on Yuta. “Are you going to take it?”

Yuta lands his palms on either side of his hips and swipes his tongue across his lower lips. “In exchange of what?”

Mark looks at Yuta directly in the eye and without missing a beat, he replies,

“Y/n.”

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

All heads turn in an instant, Donghyuck’s mouth hanging open in the process. Mark tightens his grip around the duffle bag hanging in his hands as he lets go of the door he has just locked. Johnny and Jeno exchange weary looks towards one another while Renjun, Jaemin and Taeil blink at the uninvited guest.

“To get y/n.” Mark breaks the silence that seemed to stretch on forever.

Taeyong smirks mockingly and kicks at the ground mindlessly, his gaze shifting to somewhere else in the distance before returning it to Mark. “With this amount of people? With what reinforcements exactly?”

Johnny raises a brow, “What are you doing here anyway?” His tone of voice rigid, his jaw taught, an unpleasant taste in his mouth at the sight of Taeyong.

Taeyong stuffs both of his balled fists in the pockets of his jeans and shrugs his shoulders, “Trying to stop you all from getting killed.”

Johnny laughs, but he isn’t amused. Renjun cowers at the sound that leaves Johnny’s lips, knowing that whatever was about to come out of it next won’t be anything good. “Brave of you to talk about preventing ourselves from getting killed when killing has been the only thing you’ve been doing all your life.” There’s a menacing glint in Johnny’s orbs as he speaks, his eyes directed straight at Taeyong, making sure every single word jabs at him directly.

Taeyong inhales a sharp breath as he shuts his eyes for a few seconds, already expecting this hostility from his once best friend. He tries to compose himself in the silence in dire attempts of looking for the right words to say to convince them of his genuine intentions to help.

Mark watches the scene unravel and when it appears that the current situation wasn’t going to improve anytime soon, especially not when Johnny and Taeyong are around one another, he takes it upon himself to get moving first, walking past Taeyong without saying a word as the younger ones follow behind him.

Jaemin and Donghyuck glance at Taeyong sadly just when they’re about to pass him and Taeyong catches it, nodding at them both reassuringly before they’re out of his sight, following Mark to his van. Taeyong also catches sight of Johnny’s glare when he’s the last to walk away from him, his anger clearly indicated in the way he purposely bumps his shoulder against his.

When Taeyong hears the doors of the van slide open behind him, he inhales another big breath, clenching his fists tighter than ever, still contemplating if the words he’s about to say are the right ones.

“I want to help.”

The six halt in their tracks again, Taeil’s leg hanging in the air just as he’s about to get into the van first. Mark sees Johnny frown from where he stands on the opposite side of the van, eyes hard trained on the roof of the van. Mark looks past Johnny and sees Taeyong still standing there, his back facing them.

Before Mark can even speak, Johnny beats him to it, “The last time you offered to help, you killed Ari.”

A loud sigh gets lost in the wind when Taeyong finally turns around at the same time Johnny does. Taeyong looks furious now as he storms towards Johnny, steps heavy and desperate.

“How many times do I have to keep telling you that wasn’t meant to happen,” Taeyong almost yells, his shoulders now heaving with anger. “How many times do I have to fucking apologise for that one fucking mistake!”

The raise in Taeyong’s voice only aggravate Johnny further and the rest of the boys are quick to divide themselves between Taeyong and Johnny in order to prevent an impending fist fight that’s waiting to happen.

“Why are you the one all worked up?!” Johnny practically yells even though Taeyong is a mere two meters away from him. “You’re not the one who lost her!”

“Because you’re being unreasonable!” Taeyong retaliates as Renjun and Donghyuck stand closely beside him, hands on either sides of his shoulders to stop him from trying to advance. “Because no matter how much I apologise to you, no matter how much I try to make up for it, you still act like I wanted it to happen!”

“Hell you have no idea how much—“

“Of course I have no idea!” Taeyong exclaims exasperatedly, throwing his hands in the air in utter frustration. “I’ve never been in your shoes before! I can only fucking imagine how much it must have hurt but shit, how many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry until you finally—“

“Until it no longer fucking hurts!”

Taeyong stares at Johnny, shoulders drooping low when he sees the hurt in his eyes that have now brimmed with tears. The boys switch gazes between the two helplessly, despair and disappointment running through their veins when they watch the two people, who were once the best of brothers, go at each other’s throat.

“Until... I forget it ever happened,” Johnny’s voice is cracking but he’s gritting his teeth in futile attempts not to crumble. “Until I get the image of Ari dying right before my own eyes, out of my head.. because, that’s all I see before I sleep, all I think about when I remember her..”

Taeyong drops his head low, the sight of a broken Johnny for the first time ever in all the years he’s known him, too much for him to see. He feels his heart breaking, knowing all too well the immense damage he’s caused because of that incident, yet not fully realising how much it has ruined his friend all these years. Johnny was a friend, he always has been, in fact, one of the closest Taeyong ever holds close, and man did it hurt to see strong friends like that crumble.

“I.. I really am so sorry, John,” Taeyong breathes, his eyes sad and hurt as he looks up again. “I’m sorry.”

Johnny’s eyes are blank as he gazes towards Taeyong,

“Me too.”

Mark has never seen Johnny this quiet before but he knows he’s following well even when it appears as if his eyes are blank and staring into nothing. Taeyong speaks fluidly, the steps in executing his proposed plans flowing out one after the other with so much ease, as if he’s already mulled the situation over a million times before, having even constructed alternative plans in the event that something does go wrong.

The younger ones keep silent, letting Taeyong do all the talking, only ever nodding when the elder clarifies if they’ve been keeping up with everything he had just said. Renjun and Jaemin are too stiff in Mark’s eyes, and he figures it’s gotten something to do with how Taeyong initially exploded when he found out about him saving and hiding you, too afraid and too cautious to say or do something that might upset the alpha who hasn’t stopped talking ever since he sat down on the couch, drawing everyone’s attnetion to various maps and blueprints of buildings with the help of resourceful Jeno.

“You know it would really help if I got some feedback from all of you,” Taeyong suddenly says, pausing midway his evacuation plan when he notices everyone avoiding his eyes.

Taeil purses his lips as he fiddles with the loose threads of his ripped jeans, Taeyong’s presence still sending chills down his spine, remembering he’s the one who was after his best friend’s life in the first place. He feels the hairs on his skin stand when Taeyong cranes his neck to look towards his direction and when he meets his eyes briefly, Taeil’s heart drops, the sensation alone making him turn his head somewhere else in less than a second. Taeyong’s eyes were too much, too intense, and too scary, no wonder everyone in the room fell silent when he spoke.

Mark, who’s standing by the edge of the table, overseeing every plan spread out on the coffee table, crosses his arms across his chest and raises a hand to grasp his chin as he envisions the plan coming to life. When he’s about to speak, Renjun beats him to it unconsciously, “The plans sound good. Better than the ones we’ve come up with honestly,” he glances towards Mark wearily who only nods at him encouragingly, silently agreeing with him. “But those plans involve a lot of manpower. We only have, like, what? Eight of us?”

“You’re not the only ones in this mafia, are you?” Taeyong asks lowly.

Donghyuck raises a brow inquisitively, “Wait, what? You mean-”

“I’ve already told everyone else. All transactions and activities are on hold right now to focus on this. We have way more manpower than we need.”

“Everyone?” Jaemin clarifies.

“Everyone.” Taeyong confirms.

Jaemin, Renjun and Donghyuck smirk amongst themselves, already feeling the success of their plans, knowing all too well how brilliant Taeyong’s people were when put altogether. Taeil nods silently, relief washing over him, the thought of you coming back to safety seeming more and more possible.

“So let me get this straight,” Johnny says abruptly, leaning over the table, too lost in his own thoughts all this while as the others conversed amongsth themselves. Taeyong directs his gaze at him, a hint of comfort bubbling inside of him after years of being invisible to Johnny’s eyes. Johnny meets Taeyong’s eyes when he looks up from the table and he sees Taeong with expectant eyes, his eyebrows arched upwards to urge him to talk. It feels foreign, Johnny thinks, to be speaking to someone he considered gone for years.

“You want to propose another deal to Yuta in exchange for y/n?”

Taeyong nods.

“And what makes you think he’d agree?”

Mark knows Johnny isn’t mocking Taeyong, though his tone of voice and the blank expression on his face could easily make anyone else think so.

Taeyong doesn’t sway though, deciding that he’d put up with anything Johnny decided to throw at him if it meant earning his forgiveness.

“Because it’s a deal he won’t be able to make with anyone else,” Taeyong answers confidently, straightening his back. “We’re the strongest mafia in Korea. That, combined with what I’m about to offer him is something only an idiot would decide to pass on.”

Johnny falls silent, the conviction in Taeyong’s eyes and words enough to tell him he means it.

“This deal...” Jeno starts carefully. “What kind of a deal is it?”

Taeyong pauses before answering, “Remember that time you went to Japan? Remember what we initially offered him?”

Renjun, Jaemin, Donghyuck nod as Mark raises a brow.

“Triple that price. More drugs. More arms. A formal alliance between us and them.”

Mark frowns while the three widen their eyes. Johnny looks up from the floor and up at Taeyong. He doesn’t know the actual price or the amount, but knowing Taeyong, anything that was double or triple anything was a lot.

“Taeyong, that’s a lot you’re putting on the line,” Mark points out. Even though he wanted to so badly save you, he was unsure Taeyong risking his livelihood for someone he barely even knew, would be something that would benefit not just him, but the entirety of his mafia in the longrun. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

Taeyong nods firmly with no hesitation whatsoever.

“We can always think of other plans, we can come up with other deals,” Mark reasons, knowing hell would literally come upon them if they made permanent alliances with someone as manipulative as Yuta.

Taeyong breaks into a small smile, appreciating what Mark was doing. “He's rejected your proposal already, Mark. There’s nothing else as good as this one that Yuta would even consider thinking about. It’s the best we can offer.”

“But-”

“Mark, I’ve made up my mind. There’s no changing it.”

Mark’s shoulders droop in defeat, knowing that it was completely useless arguing with Taeyong once he made up his mind.

“Are you sure?”

Taeyong glances at Johnny for a second. And then he looks back at Mark.

“Very.”

The sun is up high in the sky when Taeyong’s troop arrives at the agreed meeting place; a deserted factory by the docks at the edge of the town neighbouring theirs. As planned, Taeyong, Donghyuck and Jaemin are the only ones who appear in the open while the rest set up camp in isolation on either sides of the factory, in order to position themselves in their designated locations. Taeyong rolls down the window of the van a soon as he hits the brakes when he’s stopped by Yuta’s men just outside the gates of the meeting place. Taeyong doesn’t speak, even when two big men scrutinise his face for a good two minutes and even when one of them stick their head in through the window. Donghyuck fakes a salute with a smirk on the passenger seat while Jaemin raises a brow to feign confidence.

The stranger nods at the other men impeding the entrance and they eventually part from each other, the gate sliding open, the bars separating from each other from the middle. Taeyong rolls the window back up and drives straight through.

“We’re in,” Donghyuck speaks into his mic that’s concealed very well, no one would suspect it ever existed, just like the others’. “Taeil, status?”

“We’re in position,” Taeil’s voice rings in their earpieces. “Not sure about the other side though, we can’t see them from where we are yet.”

“Renjun?” Donghyuck calls out just as Taeyong comes to a halt when he finishes parking. “You guys good on the other side?”

“Yup,” Renjun replies. “We see them now.”

Taeyong unbuckles his seatbelt but doesn’t exit the van. He ducks his head between the gap of the steering wheel and the windshield to inspect the location, a tall, rundown building with cracked windows greeting him. It’s exactly like Jeno’s blueprint, he thinks.

“Mark, I need a visual,” Taeyong inquires.

Mark, who has the highest point of visual due to the mere fact he’s situated on the rooftop on the building next to the factory, aligns the viewer of his sniper left and right. “They’re preparing to leave. They’re packing up as we speak.”

“Right,” Taeyong answers. “Alright everyone, the goal is to prevent them from leaving. I need all potential exit points secure and as soon as anyone gets a visual on y/n, report immediately. Do not shoot unless extremely needed.”

Taeyong, Jaemin and Donghyuck begin to set out from the van and into the building after having their identity confirmed by the men manning the main entrance into the factory. Once in, they’re escorted by another five, who surround them as they lead through the corridors and walls of the place. Donghyuck and Jaemin play dumb even when they know this place like the back of their hand, having made many transactions here in the past with Taeyong. Taeyong does the same, mindlessly following the man in front of him until they come to a complete stop in what he remembers to be what used to be the main packaging area of the old factory.

Taeyong sees Yuta in the middle of the room, examining the last remaining boxes that are being packed by his men, of contents he presumes to be from Kun. Yuta turns around when he feels company enter the room and he greets Taeyong with a smile for show.

“Taeyong,” Yuta’s voice echoes as he walks up to them to meet them halfway. “Your guys sure are persistent.”

Taeyong lets out a breathy laugh and tips his head forward slightly. “We don’t stop unless we get what we want.”

Yuta smirks, “And that’s a vital quality in our world, isn’t it? Persistence.”

Taeyong shrugs, “Depends if it gets you what you want in the end.”

Yuta laughs and it booms through the empty room. Once he’s gotten a hold of himself he holds his palms out and gestures over to the three. “So what can I do for you today?”

“A deal.”

Yuta arches a brow. “Another one? Mark proposed one to me yesterday as you may know.”

Taeyong nods, unfazed. “A better one.”

Yuta holds a hand up to stop Taeyong from going further. “So let me get things straight. Mark wasn’t able to settle a deal with me yesterday, so now Lee Taeyong, the alpha of the group is stepping up to try and seal another one?” Yuta grins and rubs the palms of his hands together, a dark glint coating his orbs. “Well this should be one heck of a deal then.”

From the corner of Jaemin’s eye, he sees Taeyong clench his fists and he knows Taeyong is about to submit himself into something that’s potentially going to be the cause of their downfall as a mafia.

“Triple the price of what we initially offered. Triple the amount of arms. Triple the amount of drugs. And a formal alliance between you and me.”

Taeyong doesn't skip a beat nor does he breathe as he speaks his words and everyone else listening on the line are holding their breaths, already preparing themselves for what’s to come in the near future once the deal does go ahead.

Donghyuck shifts uncomfortably in his spot when silence follows. Yuta’s expression doesn’t change as he continues to eye Taeyong who doesn’t cower away either. Yuta presses his lips into a thin line and exhales a breath before asking the next question.

“And in exchange for what?”

And Taeyong doesn’t hesitate.

“Y/n.”

Yuta breaks out into a smile immediately, his teeth coming to full view. He shuffles in his spot until he’s comfortable and rests both of his hands on either sides of his hips. “Wow,” he exclaims sarcastically. “What the fuck does y/n have for her to be in such high demand?”

Taeyong remains stoic and Jaemin and Donghyuck behind him remain quiet.

“First, it was Kun, yesterday, Mark and now you? Lee Taeyong? Lee Taeyong, also known as the strongest and most powerful mafia leader in the country, willing to basically give his life away for some damsel in distress?” Yuta taunts with so much hostility dripping from his words. He steps forward and keeps going until he’s a mere inches apart from Taeyong’s face. “Tell me, what does this girl have for you to go this far? Surely, it’s more than just money, more than what her net worth is.”

Taeyong can feel Yuta’s breath against his skin and if it were another day, he would’ve already punched him once or twice for invading his personal space. But today was different because your life was on the line and he had to do everything in his power to behave, even if it meant letting go of something as small as this.

“Like you said, she's worth millions,” Taeyong calmly replies, meeting Yuta’s eyes. “A person worth that much doesn’t appear very often.”

“But you tried to kill her,” Yuta questions.

“Her parents owed me money. They died before I could kill them so I opted for her instead.”

“And what made you change your mind?”

“For the same reasons you want her. Money.”

If there was one thing Taeyong took pride in, it would be his lying skills, something he's mastered overtime for having been involved in businesses like this for years. It’s a skill no one questions and one that his peers usually are confident in, but knowing how notorious Yuta was, and how his skills may just be on par with Taeyong’s, he’s suddenly questioning whether Yuta can see through his lies no matter how hard he’s tried to conceal the truth.

Yuta shrugs and steps away for what feels like decades. “I have to thank you then, for not killing her completely in the first place. Otherwise, you would’ve left me with no choice but to come for you.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Yuta laughs again and shakes his head, his hair swaying along with the motions of his head. “No, I’m not,” he smiles. “But it is my way of politely saying no to your deal.”

Taeyong frowns.

“The deal is off Taeyong.”

Taeyong is about to retaliate when a gunshot is heard in the distance, making everyone in the room jolt in their spots. Two of the men behind Jaemin and Donghyuck leave the room immediately while the remaining three are quick to grab a hold of them each.

“Fucking hell, some bastard just tried to shoot me,” Johnny speaks into the earpieces.

Yuta curses under his breath and signals for his men to drag Taeyong, Jaemin and Donghyuck away and before they know it, they’re already being pulled from the room. Taeyong grits his teeth together, his jaw becoming taught.

“Johnny, people are coming over to where you are now,” Mark points out. “Ready yourselves, and we’ll send backup. Renjun?”

“We’re on it,” Renjun answers and orders half of his guys with him to head onto Johnny’s location.

“Taeyong? Status?” Mark calls out.

When Taeyong, Jaemin and Donghyuck are some place quieter, along a corridor that appears to be deserted, Taeyong is the first to fight by pulling himself away from the man who had been holding him, elbowing him squarely on the face, catching him off guard and leaving him no time to recover as he stumbles backwards with a groan. Once the other two men let go of Jaemin and Donghyuck to assist their comrade, Taeyong has already pulled the man’s gun from his stow, shooting him in no less than a second, followed by the other two, knocking the three down in a glimpse.

“We’re good, but that won’t be the case for long,” Taeyong answers. “Alright, Jaemin and Donghyuck I need you both to search the entire area and find where they’re keeping y/n,” he instructs just as the two finish taking the abandoned guns from the two unconscious men. The two nod before they’re out of Taeyong’s sight in search for you.

It’s not long before a series of gunshots resonate in the distance and Taeyong runs in the opposite direction in hopes of finding you. Mark from where he’s located on the rooftop, try to block incoming enemies heading towards Johnny’s direction by shooting at them one by one, not missing a single target. Johnny and his troop do a good job of securing their hideout by defending and while all the attention is drawn on to them, the rest of Renjun’s troops that were previously left behind to man their area, move in slowly to infiltrate and secure the inside of the factory while it remains unguarded.

“Movement by the South,” Jeno speaks. “They’re heading for the factory.”

“We’re moving in,” Johnny declares when he takes the last man down. “Any signs of y/n yet?”

“None yet,” Donghyuck breathes into his earpiece. “We have two more locations to check, she should be in one of those, but I think we’re going to need backup, that place is probably guarded too.”

“Coming Hyuck, I need a location,” Johnny says.

“Basement. There’s a room by the clearing after the second corridor, we’re keeping watch here. A lot of them are evacuating to see what the commotion is outside. Be careful on your way in.”

“Copy.”

“Mark and Jeno, stop anyone from coming in the factory, I need Renjun’s troops to come in easily,” Taeyong commands as he shoots a stranger in his path.

Mark and Jeno do as they’re told and switch their target to those incoming the factory. Mark shoots the first of the lot coming in from the gates and when the rest of them try to figure out where the bullet is coming from, Jeno takes advantage of that time to begin his shooting spree with an eighty percent success rate.

“Jeno, we’ve checked everywhere in the basement, she’s not here,” Jaemin admits when two minutes pass. “Is there anywhere else we could have missed?”

“There’s nothing on the first floor,” Taeyong adds.

There’s silence on the line as Jeno racks his brain and tries to recall even the most minute detail of the blueprint he’s studied for four hours straight. “Unless they’ve taken her out of there already.”

“Shit,” Taeyong hisses.

“Secure all exit points guys, we cannot, and I repeat, we cannot let them leave,” Mark announces loudly and firmly so make sure everyone hears.

Taeyong ducks down immediately when he hears a gunshot in his vicinity and judging by the way the bullet penetrates the wall beside him, that it was intended for him. Taeyong shuffles behind the said wall as he huffs, “Renjun and Johnny, I need backup on the first floor.”

“Got it.”

“I have a visual on Yuta coming out of the factory from the back,” Jeno confirms.

Mark squints his eyes and attempts to get a visual through his viewer towards the back, “I see y/n with him.”

One of the other groups within the area are quick to act on their feet and begin shooting once localising Yuta’s whereabouts, taking down the men guarding him in one blink. This prompts Yuta to head back into the shelter of the factory, aggressively dragging you with him.

“They’re headed back inside,” Mark warns. “Johnny and Renjun, keep a lookout. Jaemin and Donghyuck I need you both to come back up the first floor and help Taeyong and the rest. The rest of you all, stay on guard outside and intervene as appropriate.”

Once Mark and Jeno secure the outside and see no unusual movements, they both pack up to leave the rooftop and set down to infiltrate the factory themselves. Meanwhile Taeyong keeps hiding behind the wall, knowing all too well he’s outnumbered by the enemies who are gradually coming closer to him. He scans his surroundings and in all directions, is a dead end, leaving him no option but to stay put for the meantime.

Johnny and Renjun are just in time when they come across the crowd trying to target Taeyong, shooting at them relentlessly and succeeding with major ease as their troop falls behind them in assistance. Taeyong emerges from behind the wall when the gunshots cease in less than twenty seconds. He nods at Johnny as a token of gratitude but falls to the ground straight after when a bullet penetrates his body. Taeyong’s world spins in the process, meeting the ground so harshly in a blur.

Renjun and Johnny immediately shift their focus to the right and there stands Yuta with you held as hostage, his gun now pointing dangerously close to your temple. Taeil, who had been hiding behind another wall, as per Johnny’s instructions, see everything happen and retreat behind his shelter to report. “Taeyong is down, I repeat Taeyong is down. Yuta is here and y/n is with him. First floor, main hall.”

Taeyong at this point is struggling to breathe, the bullet in his neck making blood gush out faster than anything else. He finds the strength to lift his hand in attempts of stopping the gush, using a piece of clothing he’s teared off from his shirt as a makeshift gauze.

“Put your guns down or she dies,” Yuta taunts, eyes glowering, an arm wrapped tightly across your neck. “Down!” He growls when no one does as they’re told.

Renjun and Johnny are the first follow his commands, slowly lowering to the ground and putting their weapons on the ground and raising their arms in the air shortly after as the others behind them follow suit. Johnny keeps a close eye on Taeyong on the ground and sees that Taeyong is by now, barely moving, the colour of his skin becoming drained of colour at an alarming rate.

Your hands are clasped on Yuta’s arm, tears brimming down your face at the sight of Taeyong struggling to keep his eyes open. There’s a piece of cloth covering your mouth and any noise you make comes out in inaudible muffles. You try to break free from Yuta’s grip, tugging down at his arm every now and again but his strength only seems to grow with each passing minute. Johnny is the only familiar face in the crowd but even seeing him, doesn’t give you much comfort.

When Mark and Jeno enter the scene from different ends of the room, they immediately position themselves in a secluded corner to prepare for what’s to come. Mark sets up his sniper on the ground, his eyes locked on you the moment he catches sight of you. His heart breaks when he studies you, even as he crouches down to align his sight to his viewer. You looked exhausted, your hair disheveled and sticking up in various places, your body looking as weak as ever as you desperately try to cling onto Yuta just to hold yourself up, your sunken features evident as ever behind your tears. Your clothes are dirty and splattered with dirt and when Mark takes a closer look, he can see blood stains on your shirt.

Jaemin and Donghyuck arrive at the scene and just when Donghyuck is about to run over to Taeyong to help him, Jaemin stops him by holding him back when he sees Yuta in the middle of the room.

“Yuta we don’t have to do this,” Johnny warns lowly, inching a little closer to Yuta in the most subtle way possible.

“You all started this,” Yuta spits and tightens his grip around you even more, making you tilt your head further up just as to not restrict your airway. “If you had taken my no for an answer, we wouldn't have gotten to this.” He gestures at Taeyong with a nod of his head.

Mark aligns his viewer to Yuta, who now has his back facing him, still oblivious to his presence.

“Yuta-”

A gunshot is fired and it’s followed by a scream.

You let out a muffled scream when you see the person beside Johnny crouch down in pain when Yuta’s bullet penetrates his leg. “Renjun!” Jaemin exclaims and flies out of his spot to help the his friend. 

Yuta fires his gun up in the air once again and it startles you so much the shaking of your limbs don't stop. “I said no one fucking move!” 

Renjun groans in pain as Jaemin presses his palm to his wound to stop the bleeding. “Somebody help Taeyong!” Donghyuck screams when he looks to see Taeyong suffering by himself, a pool of blood beside him becoming bigger with each second that passes.

“One more person move and I'm killing y/n!” Yuta screams, his gun now pointing back at you. “I mean it! I’m serious! No one fucking move!”

“Taeyong needs help now,” Donghyuck snarls under his breath loud enough for Johnny to hear. Mark hears this over the line and aims for the back of Yuta’s head stealthily.

“Johnny, help Taeyong,” Mark speaks in his mic quietly while Johnny listens without moving an inch. “If Yuta shoots, Jeno and I have visuals. We’re right here with you. Everybody else, be on guard your surroundings, there may be some of Yuta’s men left.”

Not withstanding the sight of two injured people right before your eyes any longer, you gather the last remaining bit of your strength your body can muster and lift up your leg only for you to stomp in on top of Yuta’s foot forcefully. Yuta groans in pain and that’s when you take your chance to elbow him in the gut, making him let go of you momentarily as Johnny uses this opportunity to dart to Taeyong who’s just on the verge of passing out.

Donghyuck holds his breath when Yuta grabs a hold of you again and that’s when you come into full view in Mark’s direction, your whole face appearing in his viewer, his target now becoming you as Yuta keeps a hold of you again across the neck, ready to pull the trigger. You yelp loudly, the cloth falling off your mouth after having the chance of tearing it apart from your mouth in the short seconds that passed. Mark’s skin grows cold as he shuffles to slightly shift his sniper to Yuta who’s face is dangerously close to yours, making it almost impossible to penetrate through him without harming you.

“Shit,” Mark curses under his breath.

You continue to struggle under Yuta’s hold and you’re sure he’s going to shoot you when you hear the faint sound of the trigger clicking. Jaemin’s attention shifts to the group when the remainder of Yuta’s men flood in, everyone suddenly shooting in different directions to get rid of them.

And it all happens in no less than a second.

Half a second is all it takes for Mark to make his shot, heart racing and sweat running profusely down the side of his face, the feeling of nerves flooding in like waves just like that time he had tried to shoot you for the first time as he lets go of the trigger he’s been trying to hard save for the right moment. Half a second is all it takes to make get his target. All the successful critical shots he’s fired before didn’t matter to him anymore because all that mattered now was if this one saved your life. 

Either he succeeds by taking down Yuta or blames himself for the rest of his life for killing you instead. 

You drop to the floor, your knees landing first, your ears ringing, your head pounding against your skull. You’re sure you saw the bullet whizz past you and you’re not quite sure if you’re the one hit. But Yuta falls right next to you, his whole body collapsing to the ground, face first, blood streaming out of his head like a waterfall. 

Mark just killed the person responsible for your parents’ death. 

Your shaking hands are trying to block out all the gunshots that don’t stop even when Yuta falls, every single one causing you to jolt. And when you realise what had just happened, you croak out a weak sob, the utter fear and exhaustion getting the best of you.

Someone’s yelling in the distance, but you can't make out what they’re saying when the ringing in your ears don’t stop. And through the blur of your tears, someone’s running over to you, the sun that’s shining in your eyes making it impossible for you to decipher who it is when the person’s silhouette is the only thing you see.

But then he holds you. And that’s when you know who it is.

“Y/n! Y/n!” Mark’s exclaims, his hands grabbing a hold of either of your shoulders, lightly shaking you to bring you back to life. Your eyes finally refocus and that’s when you see him, Mark Lee is there, eyes so worried and features still as perfect as you remember them to be. “Y/n! Are you okay?”

You don’t say anything, too overwhelmed from having missed him so much, from having wondered days on end if you’d ever get to see him, from having been so incredibly scared for you life. So when your words betray you, your waterworks take over. You lower your head down, too ashamed and embarrassed for Mark to see you in this state. But when the gunshots die down until they completely halt, Mark moves closer to you and uses his index finger to gently lift your chin upwards. “Hey look at me,” he says quietly, his features softening. And you do, you look at him even when your tears are making it difficult to do so. “You’re okay now. You’re safe,” he comforts you, pulling you into his embrace. 

“I am so sorry for being so late.”

And you break down in his arms, for so many reasons.

But the biggest one being that,

It was all finally over.

[iwach4n]

Reminisce (Iwaizumi x fem!Reader)

This is incredibly self indulgent but by god i want to marry Iwa. I want to marry him so bad.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

warnings: mild swearing

word count: 1889

read time: 7 minutes

11:30am was not a particularly early time to wake up, but considering that you had returned to the hotel room at 3:00 after hours apon hours of drinking, dancing and chatting with friends and family, it was actually quite impressive. You looked and felt a mess, with sweat remaining from the shower you had been too tired to take, hair sticking out in every direction and remnants of makeup, sloppily removed in early hours of the morning, smudged around your face. And yet, Iwaizumi was still looking at you like you were the most amazing thing on Earth.

"What?" you laughed, shifting closer to him under the covers.

"Just looking at my beautiful wife," he responded, with an expression so lovestruck it made you giggle more.

"I'm never going to get used to that."

It was his turn to laugh, pulling you closer against his bare chest, "You better, Mrs Iwaizumi, because I'm going to keep saying it."

You smiled with an expression mirroring his own. In the five years you had been together, you never got tired of mornings like these. Waking up in his arms, taking in every detail of his face, memorising exactly how his body felt pressed against yours. And now you were married. There was nothing better in the world.

"What did I do to get so lucky?" he mused, making you shove him half-heartedly with a laugh.

"Save the compliments for when I don't look like shit."

His arms didn't relent, wrapping around you and pulling you ontop of him. A soft kiss was pressed to your lips.

"I'm not kidding. If someone had told me seven years ago that I'd get to marry you, I'd be overjoyed, and also never believe them," Iwa said, before catching himself on his words.

"Seven years ago? You mean like first year?" you asked, a hint of amusement in your voice as you rested your chin on his chest. He groaned a little in embarrassment.

"Okay, so I may have lied when I said I started liking you at the start of third year."

You couldn't help but start laughing for real now.

"We didn't even talk in first year!"

"I know, but I was sixteen! What was I supposed to do, not fall for the cute girl who helped me with my English homework?" he defended as you rolled off him in your laughter, finding his reaction funnier than the actual situation.

"You're so adorable," you said, pecking him on the lips and giggling at his red face.

"Asking you for help with that English was probably the best decision of my life." His hand found its way to yours under the covers, calloused fingers intertwining with your soft ones.

"I can't believe that's actually what got you," your laughs were softer now. At the start of your relationship, you had been a little insecure as to whether Hajime liked you as much as he said he did, but you'd grown past that now. Though you sometimes wondered quite what he saw in you, you knew he wasn't lying about anything.

"You were pretty and nice to me and you told Oikawa to fuck off. At the time, that was like, my dream woman."

A snort escaped from your mouth as you nestled into the crook of his arm, tracing patterns along his chest.

"I think the moment I really fell for you was when I first saw you play in a match," you mused, remembering being dragged to watch with your friends in second year and not regretting it one bit. Your husband gave a small hum of encouragement, as if telling you to continue, so you did.

"I mean, I thought you were hot and cool and whatever before, but on court, you were just so... driven. You kept pushing for one more point," you said, eyes glued to your finger as it wove its way through invisible paths along his torso, "it was like a whole new side of you."

As you spoke, he had buried his face in your hair, and you felt him smile against your scalp.

"Honestly, that's the only way you would've fallen for me. I'd have been much more awkward if I'd known you were watching."

"Looking back, you were so awkward," you recalled, thinking back to your highschool days, "but at the time, I just thought you hated me or something."

"For real?" It was his turn to rumble in laughter.

"You were always avoiding me!" you said in defence, pouting at his growing laughs.

"I'm sorry for making you think that," he said, unable to keep the grin off his face, "you were so ridiculously pretty that I got nervous. And it's only gotten better from there."

"Someone's sappy today," you giggled as he rolled over, hovering over you. He only hummed in response, planting a sweet kiss on your lips, "but seeing as we're remembering the old times, remember when you first asked me out?"

These words were enough to make him groan and collapse off of you, arm going up to cover his reddening face.

"I wish I didn't. Most embarrassing moment of my life."

"I think I need to refresh your memory," you managed through giggles.

"No!" he groaned, "you do not."

"Oh, I'm going to."

Hajime always got embarrassed when you brought up how he asked you out on your first date because it was a prime example of how awkward he'd been at the start of your relationship. You still remembered it vividly, and his reaction to you telling the story was almost as cute as the image in your head, so you would remind him every chance you got.

"Can we talk about the proposal instead? I was a lot cooler with that one."

You ignored his pleas, beginning your narration, "Imagine it-"

"You told this like fifty times yesterday. Stop," he was laughing too, despite being bashful.

"This isn't just what I told yesterday. This is the unabridged version, just for you," you said, and he finally gave up on arguing with a sigh, "imagine it; the last week of third year, and it was coming to the end of a maths lesson - a class I didn't share with the hero of our story. In my head, I was thinking about the lovely ace, who is currently looking at me like if someone was to shoot him, he wouldn't complain, but that his dying wish would be for me to shut up. I was wondering if I should make a move on him."

Iwaizumi's face turns from one of annoyance to curiosity - he hasn't heard this part of the story. You'd never really told him what went through your head that day. Noticing his change of expression, you decided to expand on that train of thought.

"You see, there was only a week left. After that, I might not get the chance. I might never see him again - at least, this is what I thought, as I didn't know that we were both going to the same university the next year. Part of me thought that it was now or never, but I decided on never. He was cool and popular and always seemed confident. If he liked me, I thought, he would make a move himself. This thought crossed my mind as I began to pack my things, and then, as if on cue-"

Iwaizumi's arm returned to covering his face. This was his least favourite part of the story.

"My knight in shining armour burst in, having been let out of his class early, and shouted, in front of the whole class, '(Y/N), I really like you, and have for a while! Please go on a date with me!'"

Your husband let out a long groan at this, the embarrassment still fresh despite it having been five years. Usually, this is where you stopped. It was pretty much the end of the story. But you continued.

"Naturally, I agreed. But, as if things weren't already awkward enough, our good old friend Oikawa decided to pipe up from behind you-"

"Oh my god," Hajime interrupted momentarily, "I forgot about this bit."

"And the somewhat sweet confession was finished off with the lovely note of 'Woo! They're finally gonna bone!'. The end."

It appeared the little addition shook Iwa out of the annoyed mood the story usually put him in, because he uncovered his face and laughed reminiscently.

"We both got detention for that," he chuckled, pulling you back into his chest.

"Was it worth it?" you asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

"Take a look around. We're married. Of course it was worth it," what was probably the hundreth kiss of the day was placed on your forehead, "I'd sit through a million detentions to keep you with me."

"Good thing you don't have to. I don't think I'd be able to go a million hours without you," you said, beginning to fiddle with his hair, "can I try and plait your hair?"

"No," was the short answer, "we're gonna talk about that first date I asked you on."

"Why?" you asked, cocking your head as your fingers left his hair. The date had been nice, but other than the fact it was your first with your now husband, there had been nothing particularly special about it.

"Don't think I've forgotten about when you tried to say you were hungry and instead said horny, and were so shocked by the fact that your mouth did that that you spilt your drink all over both of us."

"Oh my god, even I forgot about that."

"I'm gonna give you a dramatic narration."

"No!"

The rest of the morning and early afternoon was taken up like this - reminiscing about notable moments in your relationship. Everything from your first kiss, which had turned an uneventful 'date' of running errands together into a special one, to your first 'I love you's, which had slipped out on a late night call. Each of you gave vivid retellings of meeting the other's parents for the first time, which had gone swimmingly for Hajime, but had been incredibly awkward for you until his father made some comment about thinking his son was gay until then because of the amount of time he spent with Oikawa. That really broke the ice between you, but it put Iwaizumi into an adorably disagreeable mood for the rest of the night. Iwa finally got to talk about the proposal, which you had to admit had been very romantic, and then you talked about the wedding the night before.

Eventually, you moved on from the past and talked about the future. Where to go for your honeymoon, where you'd like to settle down one day, how many kids you'd like and when. You decided you'd move to the outskirts of Tokyo, and start a family in your late twenties. You settled on two kids, but maybe a third a little later on. And then, when you retired, you'd move to the Okinawa prefecture and live by the beach. By the time you got hungry enough to need to get up, you felt like your entire life was planned.

You couldn't wait to make it real and have more things to reminisce about.

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- HERMIONE'S HELPING HAND

Between The Boy Who Lived, and this chapter title, Ron is once again left out of the gift of getting one explicitly named after him, poor thing. Hell, even the twins and his mum got one.

 HPHPHPHP

Remus hesitated, his eyes lingering on the book, his hand brushing where his chapter had ended, but his eyes traveling from Lily, whom he owed the book to, to Harry. James' words lingered in his mind now more than ever, and well, he couldn't think of a better opportunity, while Harry still seemed so pale and unsure, and the topic had just been presented...

"Harry can I talk to you?" He made the snap decision, not letting himself talk himself out of it again.

James and Sirius exchanged a pleased smile when Harry said yes at once, nothing but surprise, and perhaps a hint of guilt as he followed him out of the room up the stairs.

Lily watched them go just as curiously, before turning accusing eyes on the boy's left, "and what's that about?" Easily recalling Remus' foul mood this morning and hoping it was all going to be put away for good when they came back.

"Why should we tell you?" Sirius asked with a slight touch of sulk in his voice. "You won't tell us who the Half-Blood Prince is, though you clearly know."

Lily pursed her lips in answer, preparing to launch a volley of defenses as James turned to her as well, but then shocking both of them, he said, "Dumbledore hasn't been the only thing on Moony's mind of late, the way he's been acting towards Harry in this future, or I should say hasn't been around him at all, it's really been getting to him. I encouraged him to have a chat with Harry about both of those things, I'm glad to see he's finally taken my advice."

"Prongs," Sirius whined. "You've gone soft! Where's my Marauder that would dangle this over her head until she gave something up!"

James just shrugged without answer, and it was Lily's turn to frown at the expression on his face as he turned to Sirius and easily distracted him with a chat about Tonks, offering new solutions to a problem they weren't even sure she had yet. Still, she eagerly jumped into this least anything else surface.

    Harry waited patiently for Remus to order his thoughts. He'd known he deserved whatever was coming for ages, and whatever had finally gotten Remus to deliver it he was grateful. He just wasn't sure what to expect. His past experiences only offered what Vernon or McGonagall would have done. He was positive in this instance to lean more towards McGonagall, with a stern lecture about his temper and how Harry should think before he vented what he had on Remus the previous day. He wanted to start with another apology, which Remus truly deserved. He even still had some unanswered questions about their last talk, but held it all in, letting him speak first like he was owed.

"Harry, I just wanted to say before this went on any farther," he couldn't help making an agitated face already, the whole summer had been bad enough, but for him to not have even been heard of that breakfast, "I really do understand why you lashed out at me, I deserved it and can quite easily believe how you grew to resent me over the years. Just please hear me that I'm trying, I won't so blindly follow Dumbledore again-"

"Remus, I never resented you!" Harry finally cut through, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. "The thought never even crossed my mind! I guess, I mean, you could have turned out worse." He felt a little guilty for adding that, but he also seemed determined to speak his mind. "You could have been like Snape."

The thought had been lingering for ages. He often wondered why the idea didn't baffle him a lot more than it should, his mother being friends with someone like Snape. It made him briefly at times consider he'd somehow learned this on his own, though he had not a clue how that was possible, clearly Snape wasn't sharing that information. It still made his point though, "Snape hates me even though he and my mum used to be best friends, and you could have been the same way. You could have blamed it all on me." Remus' scandalized expression simply made Harry nod, thinking that proved his point.

"I'm still ashamed I took that out on you," Harry went on before Remus could pull himself back into speaking, forcing himself to get this all out while he had the chance. "If I can find a way to make that up to you I will-"

"You already are," Remus promised, only hesitating for a moment before reaching out and taking his shoulder. "What you're giving us is a gift we wouldn't have even known to ask for, that's more than we could ever thank you for, so everything in between should just stay in this house, eh?"

Harry grinned at once, completely relaxing and all at ease now just as he was. It was still baffling, how little his proximity seemed to bother Harry. No matter how much he kept seeing to the contrary, he still kept expecting Harry to pull away from him for any number of reasons, but he never did. There was a longing in his eyes, one that didn't quite match what he held for the rest of the family. It was almost regret, or something more, but what Remus was sure of was that Harry wanted to know him. If it really was because they grew closer in this future then he could finally rejoice he'd done something right at least.

The smile dimmed for a moment, but before Remus could even start to worry what crossed his mind, Harry offered, "ah, I feel like I should, I don't know, apologize for everything Dumbledore does as well. I don't know, it's kind of weird since he hasn't done it to you all yet, but I can see how much he means to you. I, get that, for so long he's the only one who," he stopped with a now familiar pained expression, but waved him off, promising he wasn't pushing any farther. "Well, considering how my first lesson with him went, let's just say now they probably won't be going better the rest of this year, but I just, can't, despise him for everything." He finished lamely. He really couldn't wait until he never had to deal with this feeling again, of being incomplete. A piece of his mind that was missing a huge chunk of this conversation, that just like no matter what Snape did, he couldn't hate him with all his being.

Remus surprised him by laughing. "I'm a big boy Harry. I promise I can deal with whatever thoughts I have towards Dumbledore without blaming you."

Harry winced in shame, and Remus realized that wasn't the best choice of words, so he soothed, "we promised you we wouldn't do anything until we heard all you have to say." Not that they had a choice, he couldn't help mentally grumbling with one eye out the window, but his point still stood.

"Thanks Remus," Harry grinned at him. When he looked like he was just going to wave it off, Harry insisted, "I mean it, for everything, then and now."

Remus beamed, and Harry grinned right back. That look never failed to make the premature lines across his youthful face vanish, and Harry wished he'd seen that smile outside this house. He couldn't recall one though, and very much hoped it was somewhere in his future.

He led the way back downstairs, the cheerful mood still pouring off both of them now. The other three noticed at once. The slight tension between the two for the past few days finally leaving almost a physical thing. James and Sirius felt like hugging them, they couldn't stand to see the two fighting, or whatever that passive ignoring each other nonsense had been.

Lily almost happily picked up the book and began at once. Despite the climate Harry was still living in, his sixth year having the same air as all seven years of their school with the way it had started, there was finally something to be smiling at that couldn't be taken away by this book.

As Hermione had predicted, the sixth years' free periods were not the hours of blissful relaxation Ron had anticipated, but times in which to attempt to keep up with the vast amount of homework they were being set. Not only were they studying as though they had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had become more demanding than ever before.

"You're giving me horrible flashbacks," James sighed, rubbing his own forehead with the memory of those first few weeks coming back, all that homework that never seemed to end.

Harry barely understood half of what Professor McGonagall said to them these days; even Hermione had had to ask her to repeat instructions once or twice.

Sirius mock fainted in surprise.

Incredibly, and to Hermione's increasing resentment, Harry's best subject had suddenly become Potions, thanks to the Half-Blood Prince.

Lily began giggling hysterically again like that was still the funniest thing she'd ever heard. James rolled his eyes at her while Remus and Sirius just grinned at Harry, congratulating him on at least finding one class he could have an ease of, they wished they'd had this thing in school.

Nonverbal spells were now expected, not only in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but in Charms and Transfiguration too. Harry frequently looked over at his classmates in the common room or at mealtimes to see them purple in the face and straining as though they had overdosed on U-No-Poo;

Causing at least the four graduates to burst out with further laughter and Harry to huff he was just so glad it was so funny to look back on for them, he certainly hadn't been as amused at the time.

but he knew that they were really struggling to make spells work without saying incantations aloud. It was a relief to get outside into the greenhouses; they were dealing with more dangerous plants than ever in Herbology, but at least they were still allowed to swear loudly if the Venomous Tentacula seized them unexpectedly from behind.

"One of the very few reasons I actually liked that class," Sirius agreed with a crazy grin still in place. "Got to use quite a bit of language in that class, and the one time she ever told me off for it was when it was directed at Snivellus."

"He deserved it," James said fairly when Harry looked like he was trying not to laugh. "I don't know what crawled up his arse that day to decide to drop that thing down Padfoot's pants, but-"

He was cut short by Harry bursting out laughing as hard as they just had. He was honestly a bit relieved, he hadn't been entirely convinced Harry still would laugh at that kind of thing after what he'd seen in Snape's memories.

One result of their enormous workload and the frantic hours of practicing nonverbal spells was that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had so far been unable to find time to go and visit Hagrid. He had stopped coming to meals at the staff table, an ominous sign, and on the few occasions when they had passed him in the corridors or out in the grounds, he had mysteriously failed to notice them or hear their greetings.

"Oh," Lily sighed, she couldn't imagine how much that would sting for the poor dear.

Remus just clucked his tongue. He felt a little bad for Hagrid, but surely a teacher would know not to take it so personally a student wouldn't continue with the class. He had any sympathy at all because this would be his first year with such a sudden drop, especially his three favorite students.

Over breakfast Hermione was looking up at Hagrid's huge empty chair at the staff table that Saturday and insisting to the boys they should explain themselves.

"I'm sure he's just busy," Sirius tried to sooth, as Harry started to look very guilty for this. Neither of them believe it, but Harry appreciate the attempt anyways.

Ron protested they had Quidditch tryouts this morning.

"Whoo!" James hooted at once.

And besides that, how were they supposed to tell him they hated the stupid subject?

"Next time start with the bad and end with the good news of tryouts," James huffed when Lily had kept going, but he was still smiling hopefully for that to come.

Ron told her to speak for herself, if they hadn't dropped that class they'd be teaching Grawp to tie his shoes right now.

"Ehh," Sirius waved his hand vaguely, and Harry wasn't all that reassured no one here really denied Hagrid may have tried to get away with that for an 'advanced' class.

Hermione insisted she hated not talking to him, so Harry assured her they'd go over there after tryouts.

"Priorities," Lily huffed, wishing he'd set his friend first, especially after a full week of not going to see him.

He too was missing Hagrid, although like Ron he thought that they were better off without Grawp in their lives. Still, he reminded her that with as many people had signed up, this was going to take all morning. He had no clue why the team was so popular this year.

"It comes and goes every year," James waved off.

Hermione got impatient with his naivety, telling him it wasn't Quidditch that was popular, it was him. Frankly, he'd never been more fanciable.

Harry suddenly looked quite alarmed at his friends deduction, surely she couldn't be right about this one! It didn't help no one in here looked likely to protest it, they just looked a bit amused. Now that his affection for Cho had been entirely eradicated, they'd actually been really curious who would catch his eye next, so Hermione bringing it up was quite entertaining.

Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione spared him one look of disdain before turning back to Harry and explaining now everyone knew he was right, they found him quite brave holding his ground like he had last year. You could still see the marks that evil woman had left on his hand last year.

Harry's hand twitched uneasily at the reminder again, and it didn't help they all adopted the same murderous faces now as they had first hearing of this. Whatever those centaurs had done still didn't feel like good enough retribution for leaving a permanent mark on their boy.

Ron inserted you could still see the marks where those brain had attacked him, even beginning to shake his sleeve back to prove it.

-And it didn't help he'd shot up a few inches, Hermione finished, ignoring him.

"Honestly, if those two dance in anymore circles, they're going to put a moat around Hogwarts," Remus sighed.

Ron inserted he was tall.

Sirius snickered hard for Harry's friends, somehow finding this even more entertaining than Prongs and Evans had been.

The post owls arrived, swooping down through rain-flecked windows, scattering everyone with droplets of water. Most people were receiving more post than usual; anxious parents were keen to hear from their children and to reassure them, in turn, that all was well at home. Harry had received no mail since the start of term; his only regular correspondent was now dead and although he had hoped that Lupin might write occasionally, he had so far been disappointed.

Lily's heart had started to grow heavy at the start of this, the sting always present of being denied this for her child never appreciated when it was pushed to the for-front of her mind. By the end she was trying to stop herself chewing on the inside of her cheek, the unease for Remus squirming so much inside her she thought she was going to be sick. With an uneasy glance up though, she saw both were trying to pretend like they hadn't heard a thing. It was of some relief, at least, that their little chat had soothed what once could have been a very awkward moment, but for now she tried to get past that as fast as she could like the boys clearly wanted.

He was very surprised, therefore, to see the snowy white Hedwig circling amongst all the brown and gray owls. She landed in front of him carrying a large, square package. A moment later, an identical package landed in front of Ron, crushing beneath it his minuscule and exhausted owl, Pigwidgeon.

Harry, unwrapped the parcel to reveal a new copy of Advanced Potion-Making, fresh from Flourish and Blotts.

Remus couldn't help it, even knowing Harry didn't hold that against him, at least now, like he did, he still made a face that a bloody book store sent more mail to him than he did. That could just never be right. It helped that James, sitting right next to him, still just looked miserable like the rest of them rather than resentful like Remus wouldn't have blamed him for.

Hermione was delighted, saying now he could give that graffitied copy back.

"Graffitied," Lily gave a half-hearted giggle to at least try and push the good mood back in.

Harry told her she was mad, and proceeded to mutter 'Definido' over both covers of the books, while Hermione looked scandalized.

"For what you're doing, or ruining a book?" Sirius asked with genuine curiosity, clearly ignoring Moony's moment as much as he could.

"Couldn't tell you, a bit of both probably," Harry answered naturally enough.

He then swapped the covers, tapped each, and said, 'Reparo!'

There sat the Prince's copy, disguised as a new book, and there sat the fresh copy from Flourish and Blotts, looking thoroughly secondhand.

All four of them started chuckling, a pure sound of amusement they all needed. "Clever," Lily couldn't help but congratulate, having never thought for a moment he was going to give it back, now he even had an excuse. The temptation to tell him exactly whose book he was keeping was still on the tip of her tongue, but she restrained herself, they'd just gotten their good mood back, no need ruining it with certain information.

Harry decided he'd give the 'old' copy back to Slughorn, who wouldn't complain, it had cost him nine Galleons.

"And that man has never passed up a bargain," Remus smirked.

Hermione pressed her lips together, looking angry and disapproving, but was distracted by a third owl landing in front of her carrying that day's copy of the Daily Prophet. She unfolded it hastily and scanned the front page.

Ron determinedly asked with a casual tone if anyone they knew was dead this morning, as he had every morning.

Lily sighed, this was honestly the reason she hadn't gotten the paper through much of her youth, it was depressing to turn every page and expect as much.

Hermione did tell of an arrest, and Harry asked with some curiosity who, keeping to himself the hope it was Bellatrix Lestrange.

All five of them scowled for her name being brought back up, Azkaban was almost too good for what they owed her. Almost.

Stan Shunpike, apparently.

"Ouch, didn't see that one coming," Lily muttered, her lower lip pouting in surprise.

She read out the article which gave the details f his arrest as being under Death Eater suspension.

Harry at once said there was no way, while Ron offered he could have been under the Imperius Curse.

"They still shouldn't have arrested him until they knew for sure," Harry seethed.

Sirius just gave his shoulder a reassuring pat, honestly wishing this was more of a surprise to them. They heard all the time of arrests from the last people you would think. Crouch was a good example, but there were others out there doing explicit things you wouldn't think to point a finger at.

Hermione read out the rest, he'd been caught overheard knowing of Death Eater plans, and that didn't seem the kind of thing the Imperius Curse would let you shout about.

"That's even worse!" Harry snapped.

"Calm down Harry, I'm sure it won't last long," Lily tried to placate, though none of them were really any happier about this development, they weren't sure why Harry was in such a temper over it. It was just too common place to them.

"He shouldn't be in there, he doesn't deserve it!" Harry insisted.

Ron instead switched to saying he was probably showing off then, hadn't he been that bloke boasting to a veela at the World Cup about becoming the next Minister of Magic.

"That was also a moment you claimed a broom could reach outer space, so," James trailed off with a pitiful shake of his head.

Harry agreed that was him, and was still aghast anyone could take Stan seriously.

Sirius suddenly flinched, his favorite joke escaping him as they all realized where Harry's ire could be stemming from, and maybe he didn't even realize it except his own choice of words.

Harry couldn't say anything, not looking at any of them. Sirius sighed unhappily, not wanting to say any empty words, but shimmied just a bit closer to him anyways, as much a promise as he could offer they wouldn't let this happen to anyone again.

Hermione explained the Ministry wanted to look as if they were doing something, people were terrified after all. The Patil twins almost hadn't come this year, and Eloise Midgens had just been withdrawn last night by her father.

Harry's misery only grew at this news, that was as depressing as it could get, hearing of more parents like Seamus' mother. It was somehow even more sad to see this didn't surprise anyone around him, this sort of thing must have happened all the time.

Ron was dumbfounded, surely parents knew Hogwarts was the safest place for anyone with Dumbledore here.

Hermione lowered her voice to the barest whisper as she pointed out they may not really have that.

Harry glanced to the staff table in surprise to find he wasn't present. In fact when he cast his mind back, their headmasters seat had been as empty as the Gamekeepers this week.

"That is, unusual," Remus agreed slowly, trying to keep the accusation out of his voice and almost getting there this time.

"I mean, not really, if you think about it," Lily tried. "Maybe the Ministry reinstated all of his titles in the community, plus the Order of the Phoenix, he can't just be sitting around in his office all day."

"We never exactly kept tabs on him at the table, so I couldn't say how often he was there at our time," James agreed slowly.

Hermione kept lowering her voice further as she wondered if he was doing something for the Order? It was all looking very serious.

Sirius was already smirking, and without any preamble this time stated, "I always look Sirius! I hate using anything to change myself otherwise, who would want to deny the brightest star!"

Harry snickered in surprise while his friends rolled their eyes.

Harry and Ron did not answer, but Harry knew that they were all thinking the same thing. There had been a horrible incident the day before, when Hannah Abbott had been taken out of Herbology to be told her mother had been found dead. They had not seen Hannah since.

Harry felt cold chills erupting all along his arms as that memory was given back. He didn't even have to pretend what that news was like, he'd lived it only days ago hearing his parents weren't going to be in this world with him much longer.

When they left the Gryffindor table five minutes later to head down to the Quidditch pitch, they passed Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Remembering what Hermione had said about the Patil twins' parents wanting them to leave Hogwarts, Harry was unsurprised to see that the two best friends were whispering together, looking distressed. What did surprise him was that when Ron drew level with them, Parvati suddenly nudged Lavender, who looked around and gave Ron a wide smile. Ron blinked at her, then returned the smile uncertainly. His walk instantly became something more like a strut. Harry resisted the temptation to laugh, remembering that Ron had refrained from doing so after Malfoy had broken Harry's nose; Hermione, however, looked cold and distant all the way down to the stadium through the cool, misty drizzle, and departed to find a place in the stands without wishing Ron good luck.

"I'm sensing a triangle forming," James said extra loudly, well aware Harry just couldn't keep a smile in place this time around. Surely even the coming Quidditch tryouts would help with that!

"At least I'm not anywhere in that shape, though I'll still probably be hearing about it," Harry huffed.

As Harry had expected, the trials took most of the morning. Half of Gryffindor House seemed to have turned up, from first years who were nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful old school brooms,

"Poor things, not being Harry Potter and all," Sirius snickered while James puffed up his chest, well aware none of them would be making the house team, breaking his sons record of being the youngest in a century.

to seventh years who towered over the rest, looking coolly intimidating. The latter included a large, wiry-haired boy Harry recognized immediately from the Hogwarts Express.

He came forward with confidence, reintroducing himself as Cormac McLaggen, and explaining he was here for the Keepers tryouts.

Harry asked if he'd tried out last year, thinking the size of him would surely block all the goal hoops without him even needing to move.

Remus snickered in surprise while James mind was already wiring clinically. "Nah, doesn't necessarily mean skill if he can't stay on the broom."

"Or Ron just beat him out," Sirius sniffed.

He explained he hadn't, he'd been in the hospital wing that day. He'd eaten a pound of doxy eggs on a bet.

"Well I can't help but like him just for that," Remus burst out laughing even harder.

"Honestly, I'd probably be rooting for him if Ron weren't trying for the same spot," Lily agreed.

Harry made a face at both of them, he had no good will towards him, even if he couldn't explain the feeling.

Harry dismissed him then to stand with the others, pointing over to the edge of the pitch, close to where Hermione was sitting. He thought he saw a flicker of annoyance pass over McLaggen's face and wondered whether McLaggen expected preferential treatment because they were both 'old Sluggy's' favorites.

"He'll learn fast," James scoffed.

Harry decided to start with a basic test, asking all applicants for the team to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch.

"Not bad at all," James approved, his eyes many miles away back on the pitch himself. "Get a good handle on just how often they're in the air."

Harry couldn't help the shy smile, blushing a bit at the praise he hadn't been expecting. He was only doing what he thought was obvious at the time, to help out his team.

This was a good decision: the first ten was made up of first years, and it could not have been plainer that they had hardly ever flown before. Only one boy managed to remain airborne for more than a few seconds, and he was so surprised he promptly crashed into one of the goal posts.

Causing all five of them to burst out laughing, Harry hardest of all as he'd tried to hold it in at the time.

The second group was comprised of ten of the silliest girls Harry had ever encountered, who, when he blew his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching one another. Romilda Vane was amongst them. When he told them to leave the pitch, they did so quite cheerfully and went to sit in the stands to heckle everyone else.

Lily scoffed at that one, they would have made better cheerleaders. She didn't even like the game and couldn't understand why they'd bother if they didn't either.

The third group had a pileup halfway around the pitch. Most of the fourth group had come without broomsticks. The fifth group were Hufflepuffs.

The Marauders laughed extra hard at that one while Harry rolled his eyes, thinking they could go annoy their own tryouts.

Harry was getting seriously annoyed,

"What did I do?" Sirius demanded.

"I'm sure you weren't any help to dad when he was going through this," Harry shrugged without remorse.

"Don't encourage him by responding to that Harry," Remus groaned, when he laughed was bad enough.

"No, Harry was right that time, Sirius was laughing his arse off and I had half a mind to kick him off the field. I was Siriusly annoyed by him too," James couldn't help joining in with a chuckle that time, causing Remus to make a face at him of pure betrayal while the others just laughed harder.

as he shouted that anyone else who wasn't from his house should leave now! There was a pause, then a couple of little Ravenclaws went sprinting off the pitch, snorting with laughter.

"At least someone was enjoying themselves," Harry gave a grudging laugh as well, everyone around him still giggling too much to hold onto that agitation that had been hovering over him at that time.

After two hours, many complaints, and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth, Harry had found himself three Chasers: Katie Bell, returned to the team after an excellent trial; a new find called Demelza Robins, who was particularly good at dodging Bludgers; and Ginny Weasley, who had outflown all the competition and scored seventeen goals to boot.

Harry was beaming at this, he had a really good feeling at least these weren't decisions he'd regret. It was the other positions he wasn't feeling as sure of, and hoped he wouldn't let his dad down with any of the others.

Pleased though he was with his choices, Harry had also shouted himself hoarse at the many complainers and was now enduring a similar battle with the rejected Beaters.

He had to even threaten some away with hexs if they didn't stop badgering him about it.

"Yeah, I'd believe him," Sirius nodded along, having actually done as much to one who had the gall to tell Prongs what a sham he was after all that.

Neither of his chosen Beaters had the old brilliance of Fred and George,

"A shame twins don't come along more often," James sighed, still eyeing Lily hopefully, who was ignoring him.

but he was still reasonably pleased with them: Jimmy Peakes, a short but broad-chested third-year boy who had managed to raise a lump the size of an egg on the back of Harry's head with a ferociously hit Bludger, and Ritchie Coote, who looked weedy but aimed well. They now joined Katie, Demelza, and Ginny in the stands to watch the selection of their last team member.

Harry had deliberately left the trial of the Keepers until last, hoping for an emptier stadium and less pressure on all concerned. Unfortunately, however, all the rejected players and a number of people who had come down to watch after a lengthy breakfast had joined the crowd by now, so that it was larger than ever.

"Ah well, I'm sure Ron's over all that by now anyways. He won the last tournament after all," James smirked.

"This next one both will be playing in it, it's going to be a blast," Sirius already agreed with high energy to get to that!

As each Keeper flew up to the goal hoops, the crowd roared and jeered in equal measure. Harry glanced over at Ron, who had always had a problem with nerves; Harry had hoped that winning their final match last term might have cured it, but apparently not: Ron was a delicate shade of green.

"He could be nervous and still readying himself," Remus pacified, all of them at ease and sure Ron would do fine. He'd lived through the worst of it last year after all.

None of the first five applicants saved more than two goals apiece. To Harry's great disappointment, Cormac McLaggen saved four penalties out of five.

"A tough score to beat," James grudgingly nodded. "I suppose if they tied you'd just have them do it over again?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed with agreement, fingers crossed it wouldn't come to that and Ron would do brilliantly.

On the last one, however, he shot off in completely the wrong direction;

Harry blinked in surprise, rubbing his forehead for why that would cause a stir in his memories.

the crowd laughed and booed and McLaggen returned to the ground grinding his teeth.

Ron looked ready to pass out as he mounted his Cleansweep Eleven.

Someone called a good luck for him.

Harry looked around, expecting to see Hermione, but it was Lavender Brown.

"Ooh, bet Hermione loved that," Sirius rolled his eyes. He already disliked her for her previous tendencies in Trelawney's class and hoped Ron didn't really return the affection. He'd still take Hermione's stubbornness over some giggly girl.

He would have quite liked to have hidden his face in his hands, as she did a moment later, but thought that as the Captain he ought to show slightly more grit, and so turned to watch Ron do his trial.

James gave a sympathetic nod, thinking there had been many times during his captaincy he'd had to show more restraint than he had all previous years of school because of that badge.

Yet he need not have worried: Ron saved one, two, three, four, five penalties in a row. Delighted, and resisting joining in the cheers of the crowd with difficulty, Harry turned to McLaggen to tell him that, most unfortunately, Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen's red face inches from his own. He stepped back hastily.

McLaggen began smearing at once, stating his sister hadn't really tried, she'd given him an easy throw.

"Urgh, what a sore loser," Remus wrinkled his nose up in disgust as well as the comparison.

"Honestly, even if they had tied I'd rather Harry give it to Ron now just for that," Sirius agreed.

Harry coldly responded what rubbish that was, Ron had nearly missed that one.

McLaggen took a step nearer Harry, who stood his ground this time.

"That'a boy," James approved, his eyes narrowing and his hand twitching for his wand. Even knowing Harry could handle himself against some pompous seventh year didn't mean he was going to stand for that.

McLaggen demanded another go, but Harry refused. Ron had the better score, he was Keeper. End of discussion, now McLaggen needed to leave.

He thought for a moment that McLaggen might punch him, but he contented himself with an ugly grimace and stormed away, growling what sounded like threats to thin air.

"And good riddance," Lily sniffed, as happy as any of the boys for the way this turned out.

Harry turned around to find his new team beaming at him.

Ron was congratulated on doing brilliantly, and this time it really was Hermione running toward them from the stands; Harry saw Lavender walking off the pitch, arm in arm with Parvati, a rather grumpy expression on her face.

"Wonder if Hermione did something to her, or said something," Sirius snickered.

Ron looked extremely pleased with himself and even taller than usual as he grinned at the team and at Hermione.

After fixing the time of their first full practice for the following Thursday, Harry, Ron, and Hermione bade good-bye to the rest of the team and headed off toward Hagrid's. A watery sun was trying to break through the clouds now and it had stopped drizzling at last. Harry felt extremely hungry; he hoped there would be something to eat at Hagrid's.

"Quick, check he has all his teeth!" James yelped in alarm.

"And all his sense," Lily agreed with a giggle while Harry rolled his eyes at all of them. Not all of Hagrid's cooking was that bad...

Ron was happily running them through his experience, applauding Demelza for what a tricky shot she'd pulled, had a bit of a spin on it.

"I missed Ron doing this!" James laughed.

Hermione looked amused as she again agreed how brilliantly he'd done, and Ron furthered this by laughing at McLaggen going in the completely wrong direction for his last shot! He'd looked like he'd been Confunded, he finished with a laugh.

Harry missed the others laughing around him this time, an idea just on the edge of his mind-

To Harry's surprise, Hermione turned a very deep shade of pink at these words.

and then he nodded to himself, a slight smile in place as he thought it was all but confirmed.

"Oh, she didn't," James said, a look of mingled exasperation and amusement in place.

"I'm thinking she did," Sirius nodded slowly, like he couldn't decide if he should be outraged at such a display of interference in Quidditch or laughing his arse off she'd pulled something like that.

Lily easily decided on laughter, at all of the boys expression for this, for Hermione herself, she was just giggling up a storm for so long they couldn't help but join in. Hermione was very many things, but they couldn't deny she helped her own too.

Ron noticed nothing; he was too busy describing each of his other penalties in loving detail.

The great gray hippogriff, Buckbeak, was tethered in front of Hagrid's cabin. He clicked his razor-sharp beak at their approach and turned his huge head toward them.

Hermione backed up a step with nerves, saying she still found him a bit scary.

Sirius scoffed, he quite liked that beast and was honestly considering getting his own now.

Ron scoffed she'd ridden on his back once!

Harry ignored them both and came forward to bow, waiting until it was returned before going up and stroking him. He whispered for the hippogriff alone if he missed him too?

Lily's voice hitched in her throat, her hands shook across the cover. They'd actually managed to go two whole chapters without that being brought up, and yet somehow it was worse as Harry reminisced with a beast of all things about it.

They were interrupted by an angry shout telling them to get away, he'd take some fingers off! Then Hagrid recognized them. He stood and looked at them all for a split second, then turned and strode into his cabin, slamming the door behind him.

"Oh dear," Lily sighed.

"That could have gone better," James agreed with a wince.

Hermione looked stricken, but Harry grimly said not to worry about it.

"I disagree," Sirius looked a bit wide eyed with alarm. "The last people Hagrid was ticked off with got their heads nearly knocked off."

"I haven't cursed McGonagall lately," Harry half-heartedly defended.

"It's been a week, surely he's just making his point clear they offended him." Remus pacified. "Soon as they get to talking to him he'll come around."

"Wish he would have already," Lily sighed, still wanting to smack him for treating her son that way.

He walked over to the door and knocked loudly, telling Hagrid to open up.

There was no sound from within.

"I'm just picturing him on the other side, arms crossed, pouting," Sirius laughed a bit, though it did nothing to erase Harry's uneasy frown.

Harry threatened if he didn't, he'd blow this door down, even pulling his wand out.

"You've been a bit violent today," James noted.

"Not taking any nonsense with his friends, right after you," Sirius agreed good naturedly.

"You actually pulled it out!" Lily gasped, she honestly couldn't picture it.

"I'd have really done it to," Harry said without too much remorse. He wouldn't just let Hagrid ignore him.

But before he could say anything else, the door flew open again as Harry had known it would, and there stood Hagrid, glowering down at him and looking, despite the flowery apron, positively alarming.

"I, can almost imagine," Remus said slowly. Despite the obvious contrary, he rarely thought of Hagrid as intimidating. It wasn't pleasant picturing that anywhere near directed towards Harry.

Hagrid growled he was a teacher, even calling him Potter to emphasize this.

Lily couldn't help but make a little face at that. It hadn't even registered until this moment Hagrid, as a teacher, had never actually referred to Harry as such and the contrast now was startling.

Harry apologized at once, addressing him as sir.

Hagrid was stunned at this, asking since when did they call him sir?

Harry returned since when did he call him Potter?

"Harry's really got all the teachers on their toes this year with that mouth," Sirius gave an appreciative laugh.

Hagrid was not impressed, calling them ungrateful little things,

"Ungrateful is a little harsh," James frowned in defense. "Honestly Hagrid, would it have been much better if they'd forward you they were dropping the class?"

"Maybe a bit," Remus sighed, he still felt some sympathy for Hagrid despite his attitude about it.

still mumbling darkly, he stood back to let them pass. Hermione scurried in after Harry, looking rather frightened.

All five of them scoffed at that. Honestly, even at his worst they'd never actually be afraid of him, and after what Hermione had just done, they would have thought she'd be more bemused at his behavior like they were.

Fang was happy enough to see them, drooling over their robes at once, while Hagrid demanded what they wanted? Thought he was lonely down here without them?

"Um," Lily muttered, feeling a little bad she'd never really thought about it. The other teachers could all converge in the staff room if they wanted company, but it was a bit depressing to suddenly wonder how many went out to go see Hagrid just for a chat.

Harry at once corrected they'd missed him, and Hagrid snorted in disbelief.

"This is getting offensive," James sighed. "I'm all for the theatrics to prove your point man, but you're holding a bit of a grudge against students not wanting to take a class."

"Hagrid's always been big on gestures, I'm sure this seemed like a significant one to him," Harry sighed, though even looking back he wasn't sure what he could have done differently.

He stomped around, brewing up tea in his enormous copper kettle, muttering all the while. Finally he slammed down three bucket-sized mugs of mahogany-brown tea in front of them and a plate of his rock cakes. Harry was hungry enough even for Hagrid's cooking, and took one at once.

James still had the urge to knock that out of Harry's hand for his health.

Hermione began talking to him timidly, when he joined them at the table and started peeling his potatoes with a brutality that suggested that each tuber had done him a great personal wrong.

"Never pictured your face on a potato before," Sirius snorted, "though I'm sure it's helping Hagrid a bit."

She said they really had wanted to continue with his class. Hagrid gave another great snort. Harry rather thought some bogeys landed on the potatoes, and was inwardly thankful that they were not staying for dinner.

"Thank you, now I'll never eat at Hagrid's again, not that there was much of a chance before," Remus muttered.

Hermione insisted they had, it just wouldn't fit in their schedules.

Harry agreed without belief.

"Oooh," Lily huffed, wishing to make him look at her and really acknowledge what his problem was. She couldn't blame him for being a bit hurt, but now he was starting to make her son look guilty for something he really couldn't help and she wouldn't lightly stand for that.

There was a funny squelching sound and they all looked around: Hermione let out a tiny shriek, and Ron leapt out of his seat and hurried around the table away from the large barrel standing in the corner that they had only just noticed.

They felt some concern start lighting up the room, surely Hagrid hadn't found something even more horrible than Grawp already!

It was full of what looked like foot-long maggots, slimy, white, and writhing.

This was so entirely the opposite of what they'd just been fearing, they all got a good laugh for the harmless things and the overreactions to it.

Harry asked what those were, and Hagrid crisply answered grubs.

Ron uneasily asked what they'd grow up to be, and Hagrid said nothing, they were for Aragog.

"Naww," Remus offered, though he was the only one who bothered, the others got a shifty look in place at the reminder of him.

And without warning, he burst into tears.

"Ooh, that poor dear," Lily said in sympathy at once, suddenly realizing Hagrid's overreaction to the kids may have actually been out of focus for something else.

"Please tell me you're talking about Hagrid," James still had his nose crinkled in disgust, even as it flagged a bit for Hagrid in sympathy.

She ignored him, actually trying to keep going with just the tiniest bit of hope they were misunderstanding this. She never would have thought she'd be hoping for an Acromantulas good health, especially this particular one, but Hagrid had this way of making her care for things she never would have thought she could simply by his own huge heart.

He explained in half broken sobs Aragog was dying, he'd been getting more ill over the summer! He didn't know what to do, they'd been together so long!

Sirius couldn't help but frown for the poor man as well. Aragog had technically been the reason Hagrid was expelled, and yet Hagrid still cared about him so much. It really was sweet, even if he couldn't bring himself to feel the same for something that had once condoned eating Harry.

Hermione patted Hagrid's shoulder, looking at a complete loss for anything to say. Harry knew how she felt. He had known Hagrid to present a vicious baby dragon with a teddy bear,

Sirius still managed a gag for that, he'd somehow prefer the man eating spider to that monster!

seen him croon over giant scorpions with suckers and stingers, attempt to reason with his brutal giant of a half-brother, but this was perhaps the most incomprehensible of all his monster fancies: the gigantic talking spider, Aragog, who dwelled deep in the Forbidden Forest and which he and Ron had only narrowly escaped four years previously.

Hermione offered if there was anything they could do to help, ignoring Ron's look of panic.

"I'm sure Ron would be exempt from this offer," James offered half-heartedly.

"Remind me to grow arachnophobia so I can be as well," Sirius huffed.

Hagrid explained there wasn't, his family had been acting a bit funny lately and it probably wasn't safe for anyone else with how restless they've been.

"Funny?" Remus repeated slowly, wondering if Hagrid was really ignorant of their true nature in this. It didn't seem likely, with as knowledgeable as he was of species in general, but surely Hagrid knew it wasn't common of someone to go in and out of a nest like theirs so freely.

Ron muttered he'd seen that side of them.

Harry was the only one who managed an uneasy laugh, the other still couldn't for that not so friendly reminder.

He thanked them through, it meant a lot they'd offered.

After that, the atmosphere lightened considerably, for although neither Harry nor Ron had shown any inclination to go and feed giant grubs to a murderous, gargantuan spider, Hagrid seemed to take it for granted that they would have liked to have done and became his usual self once more.

"Was that all it took?" James sighed. "Next time I'll bring one along with me!"

"Please don't dear," Lily muttered, not entirely sure if he meant it or not.

He explained he'd known they would probably have to drop his class anyways, they'd have to get a Time-Turner with how busy they already were.

Hermione said it wouldn't work anyways, they'd all been smashed in the Department of Mysteries, she'd seen it in the Prophet a few weeks ago.

Lily shivered, but altogether tried to ignore the goosebumps flying up her and her soul crushing for once again having to remember all that had transpired in there.

He still apologized for the way he'd acted, though the errant thought slipped out if Grubbly-Plank had still been teaching they'd probably-

At which all three of them stated categorically and untruthfully that Professor Grubbly-Plank, who had substituted for Hagrid a few times, was a dreadful teacher, with the result that by the time Hagrid waved them off the premises at dusk, he looked quite cheerful.

"See, lying and flattery really does get you everywhere!" Sirius burst out laughing. Even Lily gave an uneasy chuckle back just to hear him keep saying such things, the constant reminder he may not be able to one day made almost all of his many annoying habits just a bit funnier than usual.

Harry, who had abandoned the rock cake after an ominous cracking noise from one of his back teeth,

"I was joking," James muttered.

was eager to get back to the castle for dinner, especially before he had to endure Snape's detention.

As they came into the castle they spotted Cormac McLaggen entering the Great Hall. It took him two attempts to get through the doors; he ricocheted off the frame on the first attempt.

Lily snorted enthusiastically and Remus couldn't help snickering as well. The two Quidditch zealots still looked more torn than anything, deeply wanting to praise Hermione's clear conniving skill and even the lingering effects the spell had, but she'd interfered in Quidditch!

Ron merely guffawed gloatingly and strode off into the Hall after him, but Harry caught Hermione's arm and held her back.

He flatly asked her if she really had Confunded Mclaggen?

Hermione blushed, but admitted to it, he should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny.

"Urgh, I'd have done it on principle as well," Remus scowled.

James gave a little huff, but the worst part was he really could picture Moony doing the exact same thing, and he still wasn't sure if he'd laugh or scold him for it either.

He had a nasty temper, there was no way Harry actually wanted him on the team.

"This is true," Sirius sighed. "It's just the principle of the matter, it's like cheating Ron's way onto the team!"

"The one time you don't condone cheating," Lily rolled her eyes.

"Quidditch," James insisted, "is not to be trifled with!"

Harry didn't disagree, but pointed out her prefect status, this was a bit dishonest of her.

"And?" The three Marauders muttered, that really was the least awful part of this, it was quite brilliant under any other circumstances in fact.

She snapped at his smirk to be quiet, while Ron reappeared and looked at the two suspiciously what was keeping them.

"Poor Ron's jealousy might be making a comeback," Sirius chuckled uneasily, hoping Ron didn't get the wrong impression and pick another row with Harry.

Harry just scoffed, it was a ludicrous idea to him what Sirius was implying, but at the same time something uneasy lingered in him for it about Ron getting the wrong idea.

Harry and Hermione together said it was nothing, and they hurried after Ron. The smell of roast beef made Harry's stomach ache with hunger, but they had barely taken three steps toward the Gryffindor table when Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them, blocking their path.

He was enormously pleased to have caught up to him, asking if he'd instead like to spend the evening with his group of classmates from the train again?

"Ugh, and so it begins!" James groaned.

"You're lucky you had so much practice ducking away from Lockhart, you'll be using that on this one as well," Sirius groused.

He'd already invited McLaggen and Zabini again, and Melinda Bobbin would be coming, her family owned a chain of apothecaries,

James was already miming snoring at this point, and Sirius and Remus were shifting restlessly like they would have walked right past him already. Harry honestly wished he'd done the same.

and, of course, he hoped for Miss Grangers company as well.

Lily was ignoring them and smiling fondly at this, having quite the flashbacks to her own years in school again, some of the happier times.

Slughorn made Hermione a little bow as he finished speaking. It was as though Ron was not present; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.

"Ouch," all five of them muttered, Remus most potently as he'd experienced that along with... well every time Slughorn had tried to catch up with James and Sirius.

Harry said he couldn't, he had detention with Professor Snape tonight.

"The fact that you use his title," James scrunched up his face in disgust, even as he weighed in his mind which would be more reprehensible to listen to that night. Both really were coming out equally unappealing.

Slughorn gasped almost comically, saying he couldn't stand for that. He'd speak to Snape and see them both later!

Sirius did get a good laugh out of that, very much wishing Harry could sit in on that conversation.

"I'll bet Slughorn's hoping to use his old status on him to get his way," Lily said fondly.

"Was Snape in this?" Harry asked in disgust, his respect for this stupid club dropping every moment more it was discussed.

"Yes," Lily frowned reproachfully. "We spent so much time debating in class, trying to outdo each other with our potions, he thought we were a riot and invited him along all the time."

Harry tried very hard not to roll his eyes while Lily bit her tongue for a moment to stop herself pointing out Harry should be very grateful to him this year in particular.

Harry hardly waited until Slughorn was out of earshot before scoffing Slughorn had no chance, Dumbledore had been the only one that detention would be postponed for.

"It's honestly a miracle he did it the first time," James agreed.

Hermione wished he would come, she didn't want to go alone! Harry guessed she was thinking about having to spend more time around McLaggen.

"Don't know what she's thinking, I'd take the chance to further Confund him," Sirius' smirk turned into that cruel little twist Harry uneasily recalled getting first hand experience of in a Pensive. He'd seen it several times in here as well when they were speaking of Snape. "Wonder just how many times you can use that spell on someone, think they'll miss their mouth and start shoving food up their-"

"And this is why I never wondered why Slughorn only invited you to his big parties, instead of all his gatherings," Remus rolled his eyes.

"She does know she can just, not go," James snorted.

"Suppose she felt morally obligated or some such, him singling her out like that," Harry shrugged without much concern.

Ron snapped Ginny had probably been invited! He didn't seem to have taken kindly to being ignored by Slughorn.

Remus sighed in pity for Ron while the others seemed happy enough to gloss over this. They obviously couldn't care that much, since his friends blew them off and Lily couldn't find them much of a big deal since she went to so many. He however knew exactly how Ron was feeling, and he hadn't even cared that much for it.

After dinner they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. The common room was very crowded, as most people had finished dinner by now, but they managed to find a free table and sat down; Ron, who had been in a bad mood ever since the encounter with Slughorn, folded his arms and frowned at the ceiling. Hermione reached out for a copy of the Evening Prophet, which somebody had left abandoned on a chair.

She was again asked if there was anything of interest in there, and Hermione agreed she'd found Ron's dads name, hurriedly tacking on he was alright as he looked up in alarm.

"That's not how you start a conversation!" Lily squeaked as Harry had nearly startled out of his seat in alarm as well. Considering all these kids had been reading of the paper, not to mention past events, Hermione should start with the end of that sentence!

She read out how his job had been tipped off about the Malfoys house, though nothing had been found.

"Aw, see Harry, he wasn't dismissing you at all," James grinned.

"Pity he didn't find anything," Sirius sighed.

Harry told the two about their conversation back on the platform, and decided Malfoy must have taken whatever this was with him into the school already.

Hermione disagreed he couldn't have done, they'd all been searched upon arrival.

Harry was startled at this news.

"The Boy Who Lived to be the Chosen One is far to special for such a thing!" Sirius dramatically declared while Harry fought back the compulsion to whack him upside the head, he hated both of those titles, let alone them being strung together!

Hermione explained of course he hadn't because he was late, but Filch hadn't let anyone in until they'd been probed, she knew for a fact Crabbe had a shrunken head confiscated.

"Eww, why would he even have that," Lily muttered.

Momentarily stymied, Harry watched Ginny Weasley playing with Arnold the Pygmy Puff for a while before seeing a way around this objection.

Harry got a blissful little smile in place for just such a small moment the others hardly noticed. They hadn't thought about this at least since Malfoy had stamped on Harry's nose, quite the distraction, but now they were back to wondering just what was up with that. Hermione did have a point it should be next to impossible for Malfoy to get anything to horrible into the school, could he possibly be putting this project of his off until next summer?

Harry redirected his mum could have owled it to him.

"Nah, mails probably still being checked," Sirius disagreed.

Harry was painfully wrenched from his little memory of watching Ginny, her hair the same color as the fire behind her surely making her stick out more than she should, and responded with agitation, "thought only Umbridge did that mess!"

"She was much more invasive about it," Lily seethed at the reminder, but more calmly explained, "but it has been known to happen in a more broad sense, just to know the kind of thing getting in, not what it actually says or what it is."

Hermione replied Filch had been bragging that was checked as well.

Really stumped this time, Harry found nothing else to say. There did not seem to be any way Malfoy could have brought a dangerous or Dark object into the school.

"It's a good thing Malfoy doesn't know about the secret entrances into the school," James agreed with a sigh.

He looked hopefully at Ron, who was sitting with his arms folded, staring over at Lavender Brown.

Sirius gave a suggestive smirk, muttering what could possibly be on Ron's mind, while the others ignored him.

He tried to ask his thoughts on the matter, but Ron snapped at him to drop it.

"Well he's not in a fun mood," Remus rolled his eyes.

Harry was riled at once, saying it wasn't his fault Slughorn had ignored him.

Ron didn't want to hear it, announcing he was off to bed considering he didn't have any party invitations.

Remus winced while the others just sighed, honestly feeling a bit bad for Ron but there was no good answer for that problem.

Demelza Robins came in then, and went to Harry with a message from Snape. To quote, he was to come to his detention tonight no matter how many party invitations he'd received.

"Of course he'd rub that in, as if Harry asked for it," James grumbled.

"The one time Slughorn could have done some good," Sirius sighed in agreement.

He should also know he'd be sorting rotten flobberworms, and there was no need to bring gloves.

"He wouldn't have bought gloves anyways!" Remus snipped. "So the warning was just a preinsult."

"That's Snape for ya," Harry agreed.

Harry grimly thanked her for the message.

"I'm finished," Lily told with a shake of her head. That could have been, worse, she supposed. At least overall it wasn't getting into the terrible state it could have been, considering Harry's past track record.