miss-mahal

[sidespromptblog]

Orange Eyed Delight

Summary: Virgil finds out about Logan's orange eyes.

Warnings: Minor blood and injury, hurt/comfort, negative self-talk (From Logan), and anxiousness (Virgil). 

Word Count: 2,318

AO3 LINK

The first time that Virgil saw it, it was an accident. 

He’d been sitting on the counter when it had happened, with Logan in the kitchen washing the dishes from the morning after Roman and Patton had just left. The steam rising from the hot water pouring into the sink had made Logan’s glasses foggy, until the logical side had eventually just decided to set them on the counter next to all of the clean dishes he had already finished. His was flipped over his shoulder, so that it wouldn’t dip into the water. And the long sleeves of the other’s shirt had been pushed up over his elbows, the occasional splatter of water made a dark stain on his black shirt. The noises of the dishes clanking together in the soapy water, and Logan’s small soft mumbles was a comfortable background noise to Virgil where he could just be on his phone in a comfortable silence with the other side. 

Logan seemed to get it, as he didn’t bother trying to engage in conversation with Virgil. 

It was their usual routine, a comfortable routine. 

Then there was a crash, and a loud splash of water shortly followed by a surprised sound from Logan. 

In an instant Virgil’s attention snapped up from his phone, and to the other side who was cradling his hand close to his chest in a wounded fashion. 

“Logan?!” Virgil jumped from the counter, quickly rushing over to the logical side. “What happened?” 

A short growl fell from Logan’s clenched teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut, a look of pain molded on every crease of his face. “My mug..” Logan managed to get out, before gesturing with his elbow to the pile of broken ceramic in the bottom of the sink. “It broke.” 

Virgil looked down first into the sink to all the shards that remained to be a dangerous hazard to anyone that touched them, and then at Logan’s hand. The heated red skin of the other’s palm had a long thin cut across it, with blood already starting to pool out of it. Similar smaller cuts peppered all over his fingers, as if Logan had attempted to pick up the shards that laid in the hot water purely out of instinct before realizing what he was doing. 

It was a painful looking cut, Virgil could give it that. 

“Shit L, fuck...” Virgil muttered, quickly pulling the logical side away from the sink and towards the kitchen to sit down. “Shit, I’ll be right back.” He said in a way that was clearly telling the other side not to move, or else. Just from the look on Virgil’s face, he could tell that the other side wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, Logan wasn’t stupid after all. 

Barely even glancing at Logan, Virgil was off. Rushing into the bathroom, he blindly scavenged for the first aid kit that was always in the bathroom per his own request. He had always made sure that every bathroom, even the ones in their own room had first aid kits in them. He had told the others over and over again that should something bad happen he needed to know that there was a first aid kit in there, they hadn’t had a chance yet to put one in the kitchen. The one place that statistically, most accidents happened in a home. Stupid.. Stupid. That should have been the first place that he had put one, that way he could have just grabbed it and helped Logan right then and there instead of just leaving him where.. Where…

There had been a lot of blood in Logan’s hand, and it was still bleeding. 

What if he bled out while Virgil was taking his time here?

“Come on… come on…” Virgil snarled to himself, digging through the messy underside of the sink cabinet even more frantically. “He’s not dying, he’s not. It’s just a cut, a cut that just needs to be sanitized and bandaged. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s…” Virgil seized the handle of the kit the moment he caught sight of it. “Gotcha!” 

Scrambling out of the bathroom, Virgil ran like a bat out of hell to get back to Logan.

By the time that he got to the logical side, Logan had unclenched his entire body as he stared down at his bleeding hand. His jaw was fixed firmly and his eyebrows furrowed, and from where he stood Virgil could practically feel the anger radiating from him like the heat from hot boiling water. Logan’s breathing was a practiced calmness, the way that it strategically rose and fell told Virgil that the other side was trying with everything he had to keep his temper under control. 

“I got the first aid kit Lo,” Slowly moving forward he knelt in front of the logical side, before unpacking everything inside. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?”  

For a moment there wasn’t an answer, and Virgil mostly figured that Logan was just keeping quiet due to the pain he must’ve been feeling. 

And then Logan sniffed, making Virgil look up from sanitizing the long cut that ran along his palm. “It was my favorite cup… and now it's broken.”  An unreadable look passed over Logan’s face, and his fingers curled just barely brushing against Virgil’s as he passed the alcohol wipe over his hand once more. “I’m sorry…”  

Virgil hastily looked up towards Logan’s eyes, alarm squeezing his chest. “Sorry? Sorry for wha-” 

Before he even realized it, the words died on his tongue and a whole new feeling flooded through him. His lungs seized in that moment not allowing him to take a single breath, and his heart thudded against his ribcage like a terrified bird trying to get out. It took conscious effort for him to let his mouth hang open, or for him to not jerk his entire body away from the logical side like he had just been struck. 

The last little remnants of orange were fading from Logan’s eyes, the hellish orange fading into the sad warm brown color that Virgil knew so well.

What was happening? Was Logan being taken over? Was he turning into a dark side? Was he… was he splitting in half like Roman and Remus? Was he okay? Was he even Logan anymore? Was he hurt even more on the inside than he was on the outside?

A million thoughts and questions ran through his head, all of them coming to a shrieking halt as soon as he managed to force himself look back at Logan. A feeling of hurt shot through him at the inner betrayal he had felt towards Logan, especially considering that Logan’s eyes looked normal now… as if nothing had even happened.

Unburdened by Virgil’s inner treacherous thoughts Logan merely shrugged, obviously not noticing Virgil's insane reaction, or perhaps just not knowing the shade of color that his eyes had just been. “Sorry for inconveniencing you, I should have been more careful so that it wouldn’t have broken in the first place.” Logan looked away, as Virgil’s body finally began to relax. “And now here I am, a new injury and I made you worry and fret over nothing...I should have been more observant of what I was doing.”

Logan… thought that his reaction was from the broken cup?

And then Logan carried on. 

“I know that I’ve been doing that a lot lately,” Logan explained, as Virgil slowly began wrapping his injured hand up in a layer of gauze. “Setting too high of expectations, and expecting any of them to go through. “I keep burdening all of you with my wants and wishes, and… getting a little upset when something else happens.” Something else flashed across Logan’s face, so quick that Virgil would have missed it had he not been looking for it. “I should know this all by now, what.. what’s going to happen when I just plan things... ” Logan waved his non-injured hand, gesturing to nothing. 

Virgil couldn’t help but to feel just a little bit sad over the resignation in Logan’s voice, surely… surely he wasn’t thinking about giving up on the whole schedule thing. Logan had worked hard on that, he’d worked countless nights to make it so that Thomas have even the slightest bit of possibility of getting it done. He had completely written out things that he would have liked Thomas to do, he had.. he had gotten rid of that astrology class that Thomas had promised him that he’d take. 

And yet… even after that he hadn’t been listened to, and…

Oh.

Oh...      

“Logan.” Virgil began cautiously, “Are you… angry with us?” 

There was a beat of silence, where Logan chewed on his bottom lip before looking away from the anxious side. His silence was the only answer that Virgil needed.

There it was, plain and bold for even him to see. 

It should have been obvious to him from the start, he was literally anxiety. He picked up on even the slightest hints if someone was angry with Thomas, he had even picked up Patton’s emotions as much as the moral side tried to hide them with his cheery happiness. And somehow he hadn’t managed to see Logan’s anger, hiding and being pushed down day by day by even the slightest things that they did. How often had they said something that made him angry at them? How often did he not know just what he was feeling towards them was anger? 

They had scorned him in such a way just for throwing a paper ball at Roman. 

This.. this kind of explained everything. 

“God I’m so stupid.” Virgil muttered, heavily sitting back with an exhausting exhale.  

Logan's head snapped back, a look of shock and mismatched emotions coloring his face. “No-”

Before he could even get another word out, Virgil shook his head, swatting the side of Logan’s leg. 

“Stooop!” Virgil groaned out, slapping his hand over his face. “I am! I am so stupid for not noticing. Of fucking course you’re angry at us Logan! You should be!” 

A pause and then: 

“What..?”

Peeking through his fingers Virgil saw Logan looking at him as if he was well and truly on his way to becoming insane, Virgil should have felt a little insulted from the look that he was receiving. But instead, he felt like he deserved it, if only for the reason that he was insane for having been so blind when it came to making sure Logan was okay. He had known that Logan needed help with his emotions, both in realizing that he was allowed to feel them, and just when they would be necessary. Of course, with all of their “help” Logan must’ve figured that any emotion that wasn’t positive should be shunned within himself and pushed down until he was convinced that it didn’t exist. 

He had been told he was allowed to be sad by Patton, but anger… 

They had never once allowed him to be angry. 

In some way, Virgil felt as if he had betrayed Logan. 

The glint of those bright orange eyes unconsciously reminded him of the other dark sides, how Janus’ one snake eye glowed a bright yellow, and how Remus’ eyes occasionally took on a toxic green color when he was up to no good. The orange couldn’t mean anything good, or even worse… if Logan thought that he no longer belonged amongst himself, Patton, and Roman. Then.. then what else was there? If Janus found out that they had basically chased Logan off, so that he was seeking solace with them… 

He’d never hear the end of it from him, a reverse Virgil he would call it. Virgil could just imagine it now…

But if that was what Logan would want… then who was Virgil to stop him? That would be hypocritical of him to even try, especially since it's common knowledge that he used to be one of them too.  He could at least try to make things better if Logan did try to leave, that way it wouldn’t just be out of the blue. This way at least he and Logan would still be alright, he could still protect Logan in this one way even if he did leave. 

Virgil knew that he’d have to force himself to not feel betrayed if Logan did leave. 

They’d done this to themselves after all. 

Nevertheless, he finally stood up and straightened his back.  After a long moment of consideration he finally looked into Logan’s eyes. “Logan.” He firmly said, “Logan, look at me.” The moment that the logical side finally did, Virgil nodded. “Anger isn’t anything bad,” He began, only shooting him a look when it seemed like Logan was going to interrupt. “It’s your brain’s way of trying to tell you that you deserve better, and that the way that someone is treating you is wrong. It's a self defense measure, and you’ve been ignoring it and letting us walk all over you. For years Logan.” 

Logan was silent, his brown eyes trained on Virgil’s face. He was finally listening, intensively. 

“Listen to it, if we don’t listen to you… listen to it.” Virgil got closer, gripping Logan’s shoulders as he did. “If we ignore and don’t listen to you when we should be… be angry. Let us know so that we will listen. Do whatever you have to, I won’t be angry. Because I’ll know that we deserved it, and we had it coming.” Virgil gave him the tiniest shake possible. “Raise hell.” 

The second time that Virgil sees the orange eyes, he supposes that it's no longer an accident. 

The uncertain look on Logan’s face slowly morphed into something else, as a burning look of determination and certainty finally sparked inside of him. 

Bright angry orange bled into the calm brown, completely overtaking it. 

“Okay.”

[mooniefics]

just one night

pairing : reiner braun / reader

word count : 2.9k

tags : fluff, angst, heartache, acknowledgement of reiner’s suffering </3

summary : being a field nurse had it's ups and downs, but everything about taking care of reiner braun was the best and worst thing about your job.

— originally posted 12 / 16 / 20 on ao3 —

"oh, you're finally awake." you set the tray of medical supplies in your hands down on the small desk beside the bed, shutting the privacy curtain before you returned to his side, "i was worried about you, you know?"

though most of his body had regenerated over the seven hours he'd been unconscious, he was still missing a majority of his right hand up to the wrist, the steaming, incomplete appendage he was now examining with a tired look on his face.

"what time did they bring me in?" his voice was husky with sleep, eyes low as they flitted over to look at you.

"around eighteen hundred hours yesterday," you said, placing the back of your hand on his forehead to check his temperature, "i administered some pain meds a few hours ago, but let me know if you need any more."

being a field nurse for the marleyan army wasn't the easiest job in the world, mostly consisting of lots of running around in the trenches with your heavy kit and avoiding as much gunfire and blood splatter as you possibly could while still helping the wounded. you had volunteered to work soon after the conflict with the mid-east allied forces had begun, seeing as it was either that or see your father be drafted out into the eldian unit to become cannon fodder like so many of the soldiers you'd seen barely able to crawl their way back over the sandbags just to bleed out and die before you could even begin to assess their injuries. you stopped keeping count of how many people you couldn't save after your first few days of active combat, becoming more focused on not going insane from how little you slept due to the rumbling of the ground from enemy artillery that shook the walls of the underground quarters and reading the letters your family sent from back home to maintain a shred of morale for the future.

though, the job did have some perks. it was always honorable for eldian families to have someone enlisted, and it also meant you could support your parents with your minuscule paycheck from the government. and, of course, meeting reiner braun was the biggest plus of them all, though you probably wouldn't admit it if anybody asked. you were a hard worker, and evidently had enough natural skill to quickly be promoted to the position that you were at now, assigned as one of the few nurses who monitored the wellness of the warriors and their prospective candidates.

"my regeneration has been slowing down lately, i should have more of my hand back by now." reiner murmured, more to himself than you.

"of course it has, you haven't been eating as well as you should be. i don't know much about titan biology, but i do know that a soldier like you, a warrior no less, shouldn't live off of sandwiches and beer, you've been losing too much weight."

he chuckled, a quick smile flitting across his face before he returned to his previous sulk. "you sound like my mother, chiding me about how i need to take care of myself. isn't there other patients that need your attention?"

"you wish. me and another nurse have already taken care of this entire hall, and you, mr. celebrity, get a room all to yourself." you grabbed a pen and his chart, scribbling down a few notes about his current status while you spoke, "plus, i'm supposed to be checking up on you every hour until you're all put back together, magath's orders."

he paused, thinking to himself before speaking. "so does that mean galliard is ok?" you nodded.

"and pieck?" you nodded again.

"and zeke?" you sighed, but reaffirmed once more.

"you've been checking up on me all night by the looks of it. aren't you tired?"

"gosh reiner, would it kill you to focus on yourself for a minute?" you rolled your eyes at his confusion, pulling up the chair at the desk to his bedside and seating yourself down, "this is my job, i'm used to doing my job. in fact, this is one of the easiest nights i've had in weeks. i don't know about you, but it shocks me that the guy they blew to pieces yesterday afternoon is asking me if i'm the one that needs to get some rest."

his brow furrowed, mouth drawing into a small frown. "sorry. i know that the war has been hard for all of us. i just don't want to make it any harder for you than it's already been."

you couldn't help but smile at his genuine concern, planting your elbows on your thighs and resting your chin in your hands. "you don't have to worry about bothering me, reiner." you replied softly, playfully adding, "you know you're my favorite patient anyways" just to see his cheeks flush red.

"is that so?" he murmured in reply, now smiling with you as he met your gaze.

"maybe." you teased, leaving him hanging for a few moments before you continued, "galliard's always awkward when i'm in the room, jaeger never has much, if anything, to say, and pieck, she's nice to be around, but she always looks so tired i feel a bit bad when i chat for too long with her. so, if it's anyone i'm stuck on the night shift with, i'm glad it's you."

you laughed softly at his expression, feeling a bit sheepish under his gaze. he'd changed quite a bit over the two years you'd known him, the shadows under his eyes deepening with a clear exhaustion, cheekbones becoming more pronounced and face growing gaunter as the stress of the war withered away at his physical and mental wellbeing. before you personally met, you'd always seen reiner as the physical embodiment of marley's armor, with his sturdy, unyielding frame, towering over nearly everyone he met from his stature, and the iron will that never seemed to falter no matter how many times he returned broken to the barrack's infirmary.

but now, you could see how everything had been taking a toll on him, how he was growing thinner and weaker each time he returned from a successful military assignment. you had come to learn that despite his regenerative properties, he felt every bit of pain that came with the injuries he sustained, experiencing the absolute agony of having his limbs shredded and bones shattered by cannon fire in his titan form and still having to push forward on the battlefield. you had an immense respect for him and his unyielding nature, but you always worried. even though you knew he would always manage to get himself back together again, you always worried for him. you remembered how you felt as you peeked over the sandbags, watching with a mixture of awe and dread as reiner threw himself in front of jaeger at the last moment to shield him from the unexpected volley of naval artillery, the way your heart thundered so loudly in your ears at the sight of his titan crumpling.

the relief you felt upon being ordered to his hospital room and finding him still alive was indescribable, and the relief you felt now being able to talk to him, to stare into his tired eyes and take in his handsome features you'd become so familiar with, flushed softly from your playfully exchanged words�� you didn't want to see him go again.

"l-let me go get you a blanket," you said, snapping yourself out of your unnecessary thoughts, "i packed it away since i didn't want the steam to overheat you, but now that its just your hand and ankle i think it'll be ok to let you have it back now."

you quickly got up from your seat and slipped past the privacy curtain, opening up the supply cupboard with sheets and extra clipboards and things of the sort to pull out the blanket you'd originally taken off of him and put away.

you had to control yourself, to stop letting yourself be distracted by these thoughts and concerns about him. you knew as well as anyone else in marley that he didn't have long left to live. you hated that everyone referred to it as his 'term', as if after two years passed he could return home to live a peaceful life away from the war and bloodshed, to enjoy the luxuries of a normal existence that had been snatched away from him from the very start of his life. he only had two years left before he had to be eaten by one of those children, children that had similarly had their innocence and adolescence stolen from them by the marleyan government. you had told yourself over and over to not let yourself get so close to him, to not trick yourself into believing that maybe something could work between the two of you after marley's greed for natural resources had been sated and all the nations were finally at peace.

but you knew better than anyone that these feelings had been growing out of control, and each day you spent tending to him, watching him out on the battlefield, finding more and more about who he truly was besides a soldier only fed the fire you'd been fighting between fueling and snuffing out for months now. taking in a deep breath, you forced a smile onto your face, not wanting to concern him with an upset expression and risk dumping all your pathetic emotions out under his scrutiny.

"here we are." you hummed, flapping out the blanket a few times before you stretched it over his lap.

for a moment your face was close to his, close enough to see the small brown spots freckling his golden irises and realize just how intently he was gazing at you. you quickly retreated back to your seat at his bedside, still feeling his stare lingering on you, stopping yourself from asking him what was interesting enough to make him look at you for so long.

for another moment, there was silence, and you debated on making up some excuse to leave the room, but you knew you would have to come back in an hour, and he most likely wouldn't be asleep by then, but he spoke before you could think up any other escape plans.

"you know, i was happy to wake up and see you." you felt your heart skip, blinking at him, trying to make sure you weren't hearing things.

"really?" you mustered, feeling your cheeks grow warm at the sight of his smile.

"yes, really." he affirmed, the brightness on his face dampening a bit as he continued, "most of the time when i sleep, i get a lot of... memories, from my time in paradis, and they're not the most pleasant things to see while i'm asleep. and i was having another one of those dreams just now before i woke up, so it was nice to not be alone, you know? it's always reassuring to see you."

you felt a light flutter in your chest, nodding in response, torn between feeling sympathy for his nightmares or happiness from honest words. no, you had to stop being selfish. you had to stop letting yourself play along in this fantastical idea of a happy future.

"y-yeah, i understand," you replied, fixing your gaze down in your lap as you tried to avoid his intention, "i could put in a request for sleeping aids, if restlessness is becoming an issue."

"you know that's not what i'm trying to say." his hand reached out to rest over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, imploring you to stop ignoring the obvious.

"reiner." you said firmly, lips pressing into a firm line, "we can't. i can't."

you could feeling that light, airy joy twisting down into something irksome, settling like lead deep in your stomach as he replied. "what's stopping you?"

"everything!" you snapped, stopping yourself to take a deep breath and regain control of your volume before you began again, "everything.. this war, this never-ending conflict, and.. y-your term, your life-"

"you think i don't know that?" he said softly, too softly, somber gaze flitting between the hand in his grasp and your face. he seemed so small just now, seated up against wall behind the hospital bed that was too little for him, barely covered by the thin, old blanket that was fraying at the seams, not at all like the stoic, unwavering warrior he made himself out to be in the public eye. "don't you think i'm tired of pretending? tired of having people toss the topic of my death back and forth like they're discussing vacation plans? i love marley, and i love what i can do for the people who look up to me, for the people who rely on me to be the hero. you never ask me about paradis, you never ask me about how i feel about all of this, you never expect me to be the hero, and you're still always here to listen, always here when i need you to be. but i just want to feel like i don't have to worry about all that, even if it's just for one night... i know it sounds counterintuitive, but i want to pretend like things will be alright.. for you, for me, for everyone. can't we just have this one night?"

your hand trembled, fingers lacing easily with his like you'd risked doing a few times before, tears pricking your eyes, feeling like there was something cinching around your heart and lungs and squeezing tight. the heat of his hand in yours was pleasant, calloused palm fitting perfectly against the contour of your own, thumb stroking softly over the side of your own hand.

you swallowed your apprehension, steadying your breath and blinking away the mistiness threatening to spill down onto your face as you moved from the chair to take a seat on the side of his bed. "ok. one night."

the relief that bloomed across his expression warmed your heart, the stress that had been creasing his face softening back into the relaxed, sleepy looking smile that you always poked fun at when you brought him his breakfast in the morning.

"you have to be up at seven, so lay down right, i don't want you to complain to me about your back hurting tomorrow." he complied, shifting back down in the bed to rest his head back on the pillow, allowing you to let go of his hand momentarily to tuck the blanket around him. "do you want me to go get you something to help you sleep?"

"no." he murmured, gazing up at you, "just stay here with me, please. i'll sleep just fine as long as you're here."

there was something so childlike about his words, not in the way of immaturity or naivety, but something that just made you want to take care of him, to protect him from the corruption of the world outside of the obsolete confinements of his hospital room.

"i will." you said, letting your other hand find the side of his face, "i promise."

and so you stayed, you stayed as long as he needed you to, alternating between stroking his cheek and slowly running your fingers through his hair. there were no words exchanged, but the silence was comforting, the quietest night you'd both had in weeks, only occupied by the intermittent footsteps of the other nurses making their rounds around the hall and the soft evening breeze blowing through the half-open window above the desk. you didn't care for how long you had to sit there, replying back to the small movements of his hands with your own reassuring squeeze as he slowly but surely fell back asleep. but even after his breathing had steadied out, and his grasp on your hand had loosened, you still stayed seated at his bedside, just gazing down at his sleeping face as your thought to yourself.

the war against the mid-east allied forces had come to a rocky close, most likely guaranteeing marley at least a few months of tension-filled peace before another nation made their strike on their borders once again. but you knew that marley wouldn't wait for that, you knew that they wouldn't stop until they had the world in their hands, paradis included. you'd heard the private murmurs of jaeger before you entered his room, seen the open pages of his journal when he fell asleep at his desk, you knew what he had been planning. and you knew that reiner would have to go running back to the island once again, and even if jaeger's grand scheme didn't drag him there by his collar, he would probably go searching out his own resolution him.

you checked your watch. 2:10. it was your turn to check the patients in critical condition down the hall. you sighed quietly, pulling your hand away from his and leaning down to gently press a kiss on his forehead, something you risked doing a few times before when you had these especially long conversations that made your heart ache for him.

but at least, you thought to yourself as you flicked off the lights, reluctantly leaving the room and shutting the door behind you as quietly as you possibly could, at least you could give him just one night of repose.

[claudiarya]

Hey guys, I’ve written a post RoW fanfiction. I warn you that it has a death trope in it, so beware.

You can also read it on Ao3 as well. 

Count words: 5990

Hope Suite

They didn’t know the moment when it all went wrong. Had it been when Kaz had accepted the job? Had it been when Inej had left Pekka Rollins alive, or when they had kept going despite all the adversities, they had encountered? The events of the last days were starting to become a blurring reel, that had done nothing but confuse them. What had started as a fairly easy job for the queen of Ravka, it then had turned out to be a major standoff with their enemies, which was putting not just one country, but the whole world as they knew it in peril. Maybe it had all gone downhill when Jarl Brum had managed to escape his prison cell at Hellgate, aided by one of his most trusted Drüskelle, his mind already too corrupted by the former General’s manipulations.

By the time he had been set free again, and had sought revenge against his detested neighbors, specifically against the witch queen and her monstrous husband, Inej, Kaz and his crew had already been too involved with their task to worry about it. How could they have known that once out, Brum was going to use everything in his power to bend Ravka? The Fjerdan man was aware that he couldn’t compete with its ruler, so he had worked out a different strategy entirely: if he couldn’t hope to win in a direct confrontation, he was going to annihilate her and her subjects from within, even if it would cost the destruction of his own country and more…

They didn’t know how Brum had gotten the information, but he had travelled to the mountains and had somehow liberated a certain shadow summoner from his sacrifice of eternal of pain, well before Zoya could do as she had planned. The shadow summoner in question had disappeared without a trace, only the Saints knew where he could have gone to hide away.

Needless to say, the darkness and its vampiric actions had started to spread again, at twice the speed. It looked like a ravenous beast had been set lose. It had extended in other countries as well, a silent and unannounced menace ravishing everything in its wake, that terrified even sailors at sea. If that wasn’t enough, Brum had also found out about Dirtyhand’s ‘involvement’ with the queen, and had made an ally with an ex Barrel boss, who had lost all his fortunes and power to a teenage crippled kid. Two powerful and dangerous men driven by their thirst for revenge had revealed themselves to be even more unstoppable than any of them had originally believed.

***

Inej remembered when Kaz had asked her to take a short leave from her sea voyages, to run one last time with him and the other crows in this task in which her skills at gathering information were going to be fundamental. Jesper had, of course, already accepted his friend’s proposition, and if at first Wylan had been skeptical, he had ended up joining the crew for the job. Perhaps for his natural instinct to follow wherever the gangly sharpshooter went, or maybe for the fact that he had made friends with the King consort, their shared love for science and ‘infernal gadgets’, as Kaz would call them, a fertile ground for common understanding.

“I won’t force you to do anything,” he had rasped to her while sitting on the roof ledge at the Slat to watch the tepid Ketterdam sun slowly blinking into existence in front of them; their intertwined fingers a testimony of how far they had already conquered together. The only thing that hadn’t won yet was their insomnia.

“Your particular set of skills is needed for this job, but I understand if you don’t want to be dragged into this,” Kaz had continued, and she had known he had slightly turned his head in her direction, as she had kept her eyes on the dawn.

After a while and still no answer from her he had sighed.

“Inej, what I’m trying to say is that we need you. I need you. I don’t think I can do this without you, so please tell me now, so I can send back a definite answer to Her Royal Pain.”

The Suli girl had marveled at his words: she didn’t think she had ever heard Kaz admit out loud that he couldn’t do something without the help of someone else.

“I’ll do it,” she had exclaimed, now turning her gaze on his stone-carved features. “But on one condition: I want Queen Zoya to help me fight against the slave trade in Ravka, and I want her to promise me that human traffickers are going to find the justice they deserve in her country.”

Kaz had squeezed her hand, the look in his eyes an oath to himself as well as to her.

***

Inej clutched her hand on her injured arm. She could feel the blood on her palm, as she watched Kaz keeping at cane point the last of the men who had tried to kill them. Their lead for the relic of Santk Feliks’s heart had taken them here, in an obscure abandoned, or so they thought, monastery on the Ravkan coast, right on the border with Fjerda. They had found out that centuries before, the order of religious men inhabiting the place had been the resting place of the only remaining part of the Saint. An easy reconnaissance job, an easy trail to follow. But ever since the spreading of the blight, of the Kilyklava, nothing had been easy.  It was as if for every movement they made, their enemies were ten steps ahead of them. Inej had never seen anyone outsmart Kaz like that. Usually, he was the one who had everything under control, who could predict every outturn, every maneuver his opponents were going to make. But instead, everywhere they had attempted to gather information, they had encountered a setup of sorts: mainly the place they had intended to scout, burnt to the ground. Had they a spying traitor in their mix? Inej had never seen him more on edge than she had in the last month, but now they had passed the pretense of this being another job. It had stopped being that when the world hab been threatened by an unstoppable force and Pekka Rollins had entered the picture. It was personal. And she suspected that he was also trying to keep true to the promise he had made her.

Inej had thought they had planned this out so carefully, she was sure they would not encounter any unpleasant surprise this time. After the too many (not) coincidences, they had started scheming their way for the hunt of the heart with only the four of them and Nikolai and Zoya, who had had to, although begrudgingly, leave out the Triumvirate and their closest friends from this particular matter of international importance. How was it possible then, that their traces had been tracked even here?  Kaz and Inej had offered for the job, a quick break in into the abandoned archives of the monastery, while Nikolai, Jesper and Wylan would wait for them on the Volkvolny to pick them up and leave after they had completed their task. Perhaps a smaller party was going to attract less attentions, their rouse of a devoted young group of people had served them well in the little town around the old holy building, and they had played their parts too well that Inej had forgotten for an instant that they had a bigger goal in mind. She was never going to forget the easy talk, the laughs they had shared around the table of the little tavern they had resided in, her hand clasped together with Kaz as a sort of lifeline for the both of them; her head resting delicately on his chest as they were lying down on the little bed they shared.

The four men that have been sent to kill them had caught them by surprise. Again.

Kaz had just uttered “We’ve got what we need, let’s go,” when the first thug that had tried to sneak up on him. Inej had made a quick work of the assassins, if her knives embedded in two of the men’s throats were of any indication. Despite that, one of the others had managed to graze her arm with a bullet, when she had momentarily lost her focus because the remaining one had kicked Kaz’s bad leg, eliciting a sound of pain from him. If only Jesper and Wylan had been there with them.

As she hobbled to where he was standing, Inej realized that Kaz was shaking from the effort of not to keel over in pain, his hand gripping the crow’s head of his cane so tightly, she feared he was going to snap it in half.

“Kaz...” she started

“You’re bleeding,” he rasped, diverting his gaze from the man to her, for the briefest of moments.

“It’s nothing,” she said. But she could see that he wasn’t really convinced, and with a soft grunt, he fished from his pocket a handkerchief and handed it to her, before asking to the person on the ground.

“How did you know we would be here?” his eyes two unforgiving coals.

The hired assassin didn’t answer at first but gave away in a little chuckle instead. Suddenly Kaz, still balancing his weight mostly on his good leg, brought down his cane on one of the man’s own legs. His scream of pain echoed around them in the old room.

“It doesn’t feel good, does it?” he said. This was Dirtyhands himself, any trace of the young man he had been with her at the tavern, vaporized.

“Now, tell me how you knew we were here, or I’m going to break every bone you have, and we both know how pleasant that is.”

The man chuckled again, but then he started talking.

“At times one shouldn’t look for spiders,” he said with a sickening grin. “At times, it’s the little insects nobody sees or cares to check because they’re believed to be harmless that tip the scales.”

Inej could see Kaz’s mind trying to figure out the man’s words, his gaze distant.

In that moment she realized that she was never going to tire to see that look on his face. Nor any other looks for that matter. Wobbly, the boy in question turned to her, he took the kerchief she had been pressing on her wound from her hand, and before she could realize what he was doing he tore it a bit and tied it around her bloody arm.

“Let’s get out of here,” he stated, wincing visibly as he made to move towards the door.

The man started laughing again as if Kaz had said something so funny he couldn’t control himself. Inej was on him before she could think. A knee on the thug’s sternum and her blade pressed to his throat.

“What’s so funny?” she inquired, looking down at him with disdain. She was tired, and she wanted to bring Kaz back to the Volkvolny, to get his leg looked properly after.

“In the end, you really are nothing but two delusional kids,” the man said, and Inej could feel his voice reverberate from under her knee.

“Stop speaking in riddles, or I swear to all the Saints known I’ll cut your throat right this second.”

He raised one hand in a gesture of mocking surrender. “Let’s just say that nobody is leaving this place alive,” he conceded.

“What do you mean?” asked Kaz from somewhere behind her, his tone menacing yet on guard. The tip of Inej’s knife scraped the man’s throat when he didn’t immediately answer back, two droplets of blood slid down the blade.

“This place and the whole town are about to be razed down by bombs and cannons. General Brum’s ships are approaching. They wanted to make sure our precious king consort and his flying machine didn’t leave this place unscathed. There’s no escaping your tragic fate now.” He snarled. His voice couldn’t conceal the hate he had for Nikolai, so he must have been one of those Ravkans from the West, unhappy with who was ruling over them now.

“No,” Inej said softly, and shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re lying!”

The man’s eyes lit with a manic light. “The world shall end in flames and darkness before being ruled by Gri –” He never finished his sentence, as Kaz brought down his cane once again, this time on his head.

The silence that followed could have lasted a minute or an eternity, Inej couldn’t be sure.

“Kaz,” she started again while standing.

“You need to leave. Now. I can’t walk, I think my leg is broken, but you need to leave me here and run from this place.” Kaz said, turning to look at her, the desperation palpable in his voice

“I’m not leaving,” she approached him. “We need to warn Nikolai. Tell them all to leave.”  

“Inej – ”

“Either pick up the comm and call them, or give it to me, Kaz. We’re only losing time like this.”  Her tone was unmovable.

Without any more protests on his part, he took out the little ingenious device Wylan and Nikolai had come up with. It permitted them to communicate even from quite long distances.

“Crow 1 and 2 to Too Clever Fox, do you copy?”

For the briefest of instants only there was only the sound of static, but then.

“Too Clever Fox here, I copy you. Kaz? What’s going on?” came the king’s voice.

“Nikolai, listen to me: you have to leave. Now. Get the Volkvolny and depart. This monastery, this town is about to be razed down by bombs. They knew we would be here; Brum’s ships are approaching. You – ”

“We’re coming to get you,” Nikolai interrupted him.

“No, there’s no time for that. You have to leave here now, or it will all be for nothing.” He looked at Inej then, his eyes searching hers in the dim light of the room with evident resignation.

“No! Kaz, Inej, no, we’re coming and we’re all surviving this.” Another protest from a different voice, Jesper’s.

“No! You have to listen and be quiet. I know where the thing we’ve looked for is. It’s hidden somewhere under the little place you train your soldiers. I also know how they’ve been able to predict our every move. Bugs. Check the war room for devices of the sort we’re using right now.”

“I will,” was Nikolai’s response.

There was another brief pause of static, Kaz spoke again, before he could be interrupted

“Jesper, Wylan,” he said. “The Crow Club and everything else is yours and Nina’s. You’ll find all the documents in my office back at the Slat. Do with them whatever you think it’s right.”

“Kaz, please we still have time, we can come and get you.” It was Wylan’s voice now that came from the other side.

Inej got closer and circled the hand in which Kaz was gripping the device with her own. “Wylan, you have to leave. Right now, ring the alarm bell of the town and go.” She started and then said:

“Guys… find my parents, tell them – tell them what happened, and that it was all for something better. We love you.”

Another anguished call for their names echoed around the room they were standing.

Inej took a breath a finished what she meant to say. “Nikolai the Wraith… take good care of her, and don’t forget our promise.  When you see Nina and Zoya tell them – ”

She couldn’t finish the sentence the threat of tears pricking her eyes. Luckily the privateer answered back.

“I’ll tell them, and I promise everything we did by far will not be in vain. Thank you, my friends. We will never forget what you did for Ravka and for all of us.”

Kaz and Inej could also hear the subtle sounds of distress of their friends, their family. She realized in that moment how much all of them meant to her. Funny how life had a tendency to remind you how deeply you loved someone when you’re about to lose everything.

Kaz brought the device back on his lips and in a clear voice said: “No mourners…” and before they could hear an answer coming from the other side, he had already thrown on the ground the device and smashed it with the tip of his cane.

The movement made so that he lost his balance. He would have crashed on the ground if Inej hadn’t been there to prevent the fall. She brought his arm over and shoulder and steadied him.

Kaz looked at her intently, his face turned in her direction, his eyes scanning her features and she knew what he was about to tell her even before he spoke the words.

“Inej, you can still make it, you’re fast, you have to run and save yourself.”

“I knew you were going to say this, but if you think that I could ever leave you behind you’re sorely mistaken.”

He did not relent, and as stubbornly as ever he removed his arm from around her shoulder, he gripped his cane with all his might so as not to fall again and faced her.

“Inej, please. Run now. Live. You have so much you still have to give to this wretched world.” Kaz Brekker never said please, never. Yet here he was, a broken boy standing in front of the girl he had grown to love.

“I can’t do that,” Inej simply replied while shaking her head in denial.

“It was all my fault, and you can’t pay my foolishness with your life, I won’t allow it. It’s not worth it. I’m not worth it.”

She took the short distance separating them and put her hand atop his on his cane.

“None of this was your fault, you have to get that straight. We’ve done something good, we helped our friends, our countries. And you’ll always be worth it to me.”

At her words she felt his breath hitch, but still his eyes held behind them a strange resolution.

“I can’t be the reason why you die here today, why can’t you understand that?” Kaz’s voice cracked, perhaps with the effort of holding back his desperation. Inej brought her free hand up and gently cupped his face with her palm. Her thumb grazed his cheek in a loving gesture.

“I’m not afraid to die, Kaz. But I’m terrified at the idea of a life without you in it. So, no. I’m not leaving, not now, not ever.”

***

As they stumbled outside the musty room of the monastery, Kaz with an arm draped around Inej’s shoulder for support, the Autumnal sun had started its descent. The soft orange and purple hues of the rays reflected on the sea surface, and the waves created a gentle melody. Inej couldn’t help but think that this was the Saints’ way to lead them onto their next job, their next adventure…

They dragged their feet until they were near the shore and lowered themselves down. For a moment that felt like an eternity, they gazed to the horizon, the sheer but peaceful resignation palpable in the air.

When Kaz clasped her hand and looked at her, she remembered a conversation she had overhead between the boy and Zoya.

They had adjourned their meeting after having gone over their plan again, everyone had stepped out of the room except for Kaz and Zoya, who had prevented him from exiting with a question. Curious as to why he hadn’t joined her outside, she had stayed behind the closed door, waiting in the long corridor. She had known that Kaz, and probably the queen too, were aware that she was there, but she hadn’t cared much.

“Just out of curiosity, why are you doing this Mr. Kerch rat?” she had asked, her voice reverberating even outside.

“I thought it was pretty obvious, Your Highness. It’s for the reward.” He had replied in that wry tone of his that she knew drove Zoya crazy.

“Oh, but I don’t think it’s just that.” Even without having been inside, Inej could picture the other woman taking one of the positions she had learned the queen preferred. Arms crossed and a frowned expression to better look down on him. In the crows’ time at the palace, the two Suli women had formed an easy and quiet friendship. The captain of the Wraith had helped her queen to reacquaint herself with her Suli heritage and Inej had even told Zoya that once the situation was over, she was going to bring her to her family caravans, to spend some time amongst their people. They had become sisters at heart and by blood.

“Enlighten me with your glorious knowledge then.”

Kaz had always liked playing with fire, but he was always walking a fine line with the sovereign of Ravka. Perhaps he wanted to see how much she could take before she decided to strike him out of existence on the spot.

“When you saw that this was getting dangerous, that it wasn’t going to be an easy job, you could have easily dropped everything and return to Ketterdam with you crew. Why didn’t you? Why stay when you knew the risks?”

Inej had heard genuine interest in Zoya’s voice that didn’t bore any resentment.

“I don’t know what you want me to answer.”

“Try with the truth, I know it’s hard for you, but indulge me. I know you’re not doing this just for yourself and your own benefit, as shockingly as it may seem. You’re still here for Inej, for the promise we had sworn to keep.” The queen had said as if she had found out the deepest secret of the man standing before her.

“Let me get this straight,” he had rasped. “I’ll always do what’s best for me, but I’m also a man of my word and I made a promise.”

There had been a few seconds of absolute silence, in which probably Zoya had studied him with those piercing blue eyes of hers.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but under certain aspects we’re not that different you and I. Your prickly behavior can only last so long, Kaz, but eventually you’ll have to let go. I’ve learned that even the thickest thorns have their purposes.”  The queen had said with a wisdom that at times made Inej wondered how many lives the queen had already lived.

“Ah, but here’s where your wrong, Your Excellency. In this scenario you’re comparing me to thorn wood, while actually I’m just barren land on which nothing grows.”

His lapidary answer would have been enough to render speechless anyone, but not Zoya the Grisha queen of Ravka. In her spectacular talent at having always the last word she told him: “You’ll realize that you can’t keep up this cold demeanor forever. I just hope it won’t be too late when you do.”

***

Inej squeezed Kaz’s hand tighter and looked him straight in his brown eyes, a shade lighter in the orange sun. From a distance they heard the sound of bells. Their friends had managed to give the alarm, she only hoped they were already on their way back to the palace. The tolls were shortly followed by another sound: propellers guiding the Fjerdan ships to face the town and the monastery. With a small smile grazing her feature she told him said.

“You were wrong. You were wrong that time when you spoke with Zoya.” If at the beginning of her sentence he had seemed confused, now she could see he understood what conversation she meant.

“You’re not just barren land, Kaz. You managed to build something from nothing, you survived all those terrible things in your life and in the process, you managed to grow, to thrive, to do something good for Ravka and your friends. I’m sure your brother would be proud of you. I know I am.”  He didn’t reply.

The rumbling of the aircrafts was almost cacophonic, in contrast to the peace they had basked in not a few minutes ago. Despite that, it was as if the two of them had been placed in a protective bubble of their own, in which not even those machines of war could destroy.

Perhaps it was the lightening, but Inej swore those were unshed tears glinting in Kaz’s eyes. In all the years she had known him, she had never even seen him get emotional or choked up about something, but here, now, on this shore with her, Dirtyhands was doing just that.

“I’ve never wanted for it to end like this – his shoulders shook as he held back a sob – for us, to end like this. Inej, believe me when I tell you that if I could go back, I would do so many things differently. If I could go back, I would start to show you how much I admire you, how much I love you so much earlier than I did.”

Inej’s hand found his face again. The tip of her fingers skimmed his lips in such a tender gesture that they parted under her touch.

“There’s no need for that, Kaz, I already know. And it doesn’t matter how early or late you started. You show me you love me every day.” Her limb continued on her exploration: she touched his brow, his eyes, his cheekbones. “I propose a deal: I’ll find you in the next life Kaz Rietveld, and even there I’ll be waiting for you perched on your windowsill feeding the crows.”

Still looking at her straight in the eye, he let go of her hand, removed his gloves discarding them on the sand and rubbed her disheveled braid between two trembling fingers.

“The deal is the deal. I’ll find you there then.”

The rumble of the ship cannons had reached a deafening peak as their beams struck mercilessly on the monastery in an unescapable trap of fire.

Before the very end, the two held themselves up on trembling knees and embraced the other. A small smile of resigned happiness on both of their faces.

“Stay with me,” Kaz whispered, and unlike another and far time her answer was clear.

“Always.” Inej swore.

Saints protect us both, was the last thing she thought.

And then there was nothing but searing light.

***

In Os Alta the feast on Sankt Nikolai was fast approaching, but even if she was the queen Zoya didn’t feel much festive. The white, still landscape of her country at this time of the year was an accurate representation of what she had been feeling ever since they had managed to find the heart of Sankt Feliks, save Ravka from the plague and its enemies with another peace treaty and bring the Darkling – or Aleksander as he insisted to be called – back to the little palace where they could control him. She knew they were taking a risk, but it was safer to have him closer than not knowing where he was. It had been a hard decision, but she wasn’t going to murder him in cold blood, she was not going to turn into a monster, as he had in his lust for power. In his loneliness.  

When everything had come back to a pseudo- normality, when she had had time to think and just be, it was then that everything she had been holding back for the sake of her country hit her with tenfold the force.

Zoya had understood that keeping emotions bottled inside you, was going to eat you alive in the longer run. It was something she was learning every day, and that she was willing to change, if only a bit. She had started letting go in the small gestures of affection she shared with Genya, in the loving words she had with Nikolai, in the playful banters she occasionally allowed herself to have with the rest of her friends. Her family.

And so, as the Grisha queen strode towards her garden, the winter sun barely a strip on the horizon of a new morning, she couldn’t help the tears that fell down in two cold streaks down her face. Zoya brought an arm up to dry them, the sensation of the thick wool of her winter kefta both prickly and a reassurance.

She opened the door of the little corner of her world. Nobody entered this sanctuary except for Nikolai, since she hadn’t allowed anybody else to see her soul from that close. The structure her king had built for her always managed to leave her speechless. The glass and iron were combined in perfect harmony, and when Zoya worked in it by day, the sun would cast and create a series of little mesmerizing rainbows. However, what would always speak to her were the walls, painted by Alina. The roaring dragon flying, the little fox, the ship resembling the Volkvolny mastering the sea, the colors and symbols of the Grisha orders were her most trusted companions during the solitary hours of her gardening.

It was there where Nikolai found her, tending to her plants and flowers. She heard him enter her safe haven, and she supposed he had come out to her when he had awoken and hadn’t seen her resting beside him.  He approached her and kneeled beside where she was on the ground, a rather small pot between her hands. Nikolai knew that when she was working here like this, he would have had to let go of his privateer side, and just be the man she had fallen in love with and married. In short, he needed to be her anchor.

“Those are nice flowers,” he said, pointing to the little thing with red petals. A genuine interest coloring his voice.

“They’re wild geraniums.” Was Zoya’s noncommittal answer. Her eyes hadn’t looked up at him.

“And what is that other sprout beside the flowers?” Nikolai prompted her again, indicating the smaller, yet visible plant growing alongside the geraniums. It looked like it was enveloping the geraniums in an embrace, its green leaves a stark, yet so right, contrast with the red of the petals.

This time she raised her gaze, and her blue orbs found a pair of comforting hazel ones staring back at him.

“It’s ivy.” Again, she didn’t let herself go into any sort of explanation.

“I remember you with a vase like this when you left for the Suli caravans.”

So, he had noticed, of course he had. Zoya was always taken aback by the fact that when it came to her, Nikolai was even a closer observant than he already was.  

As soon as everything had settled after the whole ordeal, she had decided that she was going to be the one to bring the news to the Ghafas. Her and only her with no escort and no Nikolai in tow. She had told him that she had to do this particular thing alone, and he had just hugged her and encouraged her to go. It had been a spiritual journey of sorts; one she had promised her other Suli sister they would take together…

“Yes,” she said in a whisper. “They were Inej’s favorite flowers. I brought a pot to her parents when I visited the camps. It was the least I could.” With her hand she showed him other three little vases with the same brightly colored flowers and green little sprout of ivy on the side. “Those are for Nina, Jesper and Wylan. It’s their present for Sankt Nikolai.”  

“Zoya,” he started. She knew they’ve been over this before, and yet she couldn’t seem to let her sense of guilt leave her.

“They knew what they were doing, it was their choice.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t make it any easier, Nikolai. When I met her parents – she shook her head – they treated me like their own. Like I was family. I’ve never felt so accepted, so… seen in my life, except for when I’m with you. And yet I’m part of the reason why their daughter has been taken away from them. They both have been taken away from them.” A small moment of silence, and once again she couldn’t stop the little tear escaping the corner of her eye.

“I just don’t understand how there can be such kindness after so much loss.” Zoya wondered out loud.

“It’s the nature of human beings, and also our strength.” Nikolai said. “Even after losing everything, we find it in ourselves to get back on our feet and fight for something new, something worth all the suffering.” He dragged himself closer to Zoya with his arms and then raised a hand to cup her cheek, gently steering her face in his direction. His thumb brushing away the stray tear marking her face.

“As long as there is life, there is happiness, Zoya. There is hope for a brighter future. And that’s exactly what Kaz and Inej had brought us: hope to build something better from the ashes.” He paused and behind his eyes she could see the same emotions that had been haunting her, testimony of the fact that he too had been grieving his friends.

“Don’t let your sorrow squander the hope they enabled with their sacrifice, because you wouldn’t be honoring their memories in that ways.”

“Oh, Nikolai,” she exhaled before throwing her arms around him with such a force he momentarily lost his balance. “Thank you!”

“Any time, my queen. I’ll always be here.” He promised.

“And besides, you know how much I love when I’m being all smart and wise. I couldn’t let this occasion to show it to you slip by.” He finished with a much brighter tone. Zoya softly chuckled, something she hadn’t thought being capable of mere months ago and told him with fake exasperation.

“Of course, you couldn’t. It’s your modesty I fell for after all.”

They remained in each other’s arms for an indefinite amount of time. The only indication of the time passing was the sun which har finally risen, and now was beating on the glass panels of the garden. Zoya continued tending to her plants, all a part of her in some capacity, as Nikolai watched her in a comforting silence, seated on the ground and with his back against a small tree.

“Why the ivy?” he asked her all of a sudden. His eyes returning once again on the pots near him.

“It can grow even in poor soils and although it requires more time for it to bloom than other plants, when it does its resilience it’s unmatched.” Zoya saw Nikolai nodding in understanding.

“I also found the meaning behind it fitting,” She added.

“What’s the meaning?”

“It symbolizes the constancy of love.”

There was a brief silence in which she saw him taking in the information.

“It is as fitting as it is beautiful,” he said, while he rose to his feet and brought her closer once again, placing a soft kiss on her dark mane.

As they left to go back to the palace, hand in hand, Zoya thought to herself that in life there were people whose souls were connected and strung in ways that couldn’t be explained by logic. She looked at Nikolai walking alongside her and smiled softly to herself, sure she had found the missing piece of her complicated puzzle in the golden boy beside her.

Her gait hadn’t felt this light in months.

In a glass garden, in a country ruled by a powerful Grisha queen with the heart of a dragon, a plant of geraniums and ivy grew stronger by the day, forever entwined in their embrace of constant love for the other.

[sneezefiction]

falling for you

Tsukishima Kei x reader - Scenario

a/n: ok so, trying to portray fluff with Tsukki was a challenge characteristically, but i’ll be damned if i don’t try. lemme know who i should try next~ i’m open for requests :)

warnings: slight cursing, mentions blood/wounds (nothing angsty)

wc: 1680

---

Tsukishima never intended to get to know you.

He had actually been avoiding you for quite some time.

You see, you got under his skin in the most irritating ways.

It wasn’t like how he loathed Hinata or Kageyama. Or his annoyance with incredibly slow grocery clerks. It wasn’t even similar to the exhaustive irritations he experienced toward the end of a full volleyball match.

Yes, these things are problematic, but Tsukishima can handle almost any obstacle.

You see, his cold, calculated presence soaks in every detail of life for the purpose of learning how to dismantle an issue. He resassesses, maneuver, and overcomes. There’s a reason the boy is so good at blocking. 

However of all the problems he could have... this one is the worst.

Previously, he had everything he possibly could, under his control.

But when you came along? Oh, he had absolutely no experience with handling this level of meddling.

Because it isn’t even your fault.

You just somehow manage to interrupt all of his patterns and sneak your way into a majority of his thoughts. 

Every. Single. Day.

So it isn’t a surprise that Tsukki, a master of mental strength and strategy, would be enraged by his inability to pin down his feelings for you.

For example, last week, you accidentally bumped into his arm, stumbling a bit. Tsukki grabbed your arm before you could hit the floor, but as his hand meets your skin he feels as though he’s taken a fall of his own.

His heart fluttered.

And when you immediately turned to him, apologizing and thanking him sweetly and sincerely, his whole mind went numb.

You make him feel confused. Uncertain. And… real.

But that doesn’t mean he likes those feelings. No, he doesn’t, Tsukishima tries to convince himself.

So why is it you that he pictures your figure whenever he closes his eyes? Or that your laugh echos through his head after someone tells you a cheesy joke from across the classroom? Or how whenever you call his name, he can’t help but temper his irate disposition?

You’ve got him spinning in circles and it’s driving him wild.

Because Tsukishima doesn’t want to need anyone. Not a friend. Not A lover. And he definitely isn’t in the market for another disappointment.

However, as much as he tries to avoid you, your touch, your smile, he can’t seem to stop running into you. He can’t bury his feelings for you, as much as he wishes he could.

Even though he’s tried to find reasons to hate, laugh at, or ridicule you, he simply can’t. Because the reason you are so bothersome and so obnoxious has nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with his inability to cope with how relentlessly wonderful you are in his eyes.

---

Your walk home conveniently crosses with Tsukki’s own path and every so often he’s out of volleyball practice just in time to run into you. An increasing occurrence over the past couple of months.

Tsukishima may not realize or want to admit it, but he treasures the rare moments where he’ll walk in sync with you. His stride subconsciously copies yours, slowing him down significantly, and somehow it’s okay.

You, harboring your own feelings toward the blonde, always try to make small talk or ramble about your day, doing your best to find some type of common ground with the tall boy next to you. 

He finds himself responding to you again.

He’s tried for so long to not get involved, but over the past few days, he can’t help but let his thoughts flow. You make him uncomfortably comfortable, if that’s at all possible.

His snarky comments are (currently) nonexistent. His abrasive nature, moderated.

I mean, of course he’s dripping with sarcasm, but Tsukki wouldn’t change that part of himself for anyone.

Today something seemed to have clicked between you two, likely due to Tsukishima briefly relinquishing his stubbornness and fear of connection. It’s infrequent, but with your consistency, he’s finding himself far more capable of seeing outside of his past.

As the conversation picks up speed, so do your feet. The pebbled path you walk doesn’t help you keep your footing, so you find yourself unsteady and sliding every once in a while. 

Suddenly, your feet are out from under you, and similarly to the week before, you plummet to the earth. 

You’re not quite as fortunate this time, because as quickly as Tsukki swoops down to catch you, your hands and knees are already covered in dirt, sand, and bits of rock. Scraped and bleeding, you do your best to calm yourself down and assess the situation… so you turn to Tsukki.

Poor boy looks so awkward, unsure of what to say, but still attempting to keep his cool demeanor.

“Are you okay?” He asks, crouching down to meet your eyes. As masked as it is, you see a flicker of concern in his expression.

He takes your hand in his, trying not to let his feelings intervene with your pain, and studies the tears in your skin.

“I- I’m okay,” You stammer, partially from the pain, but mostly from his gentle touch.

“Okay… let me see if I have anything that’ll help.” Turning toward his bag.

It aches and the grimace on your face shows just how nasty the gash on your knee really is. 

He gently lets your hand down, taking out tissues from his backpack and uses one to wipe off your knee while you use another to apply pressure to your hands. 

The air is very still, almost as though it chose to pause for this moment. 

“Hm, the weather actually is nicer down here for you short kids. I’m envious.” Tsukki jokes, breaking the tense silence.

“Haha, very funny. Maybe if you ever fall down, I’ll actually be able to catch you, since I’m already down here.” You retort playfully.

“Okay captain sassy, whatever you say.” He shoots back, “Now how ‘bout we see if you can actually stand up.”

He offers you his hand once again, the feeling making your heart race and his face go blank.

You attempt to straighten out your legs entirely, moving a foot forward, but find yourself in extreme discomfort.

Tsukki notices and without skipping a beat, suggests,

“Well, I can… y’know, carry you?” He turns his head, the lightest dusting of pink touching his cheeks.

You, still using his hand for support, look down, your face becoming red.

“I think that may be the, uhm, best option. It hurts a lot.” 

He silently stoops down, placing his arms under your knees and behind your back, making sure to not agitate the wound any further.

The walk continues in a nervous, but intimately close manner. Neither of your eyes knowing what to focus on.

So you decide to fixate on him for a moment, 

“I’m sorry about all this… I should’ve watched my step.” You express, “But… I’ve really enjoyed our walk together.” You crack a warm smile.

Tsukki returns your gaze, pulse jumping slightly, his honey-brown hued irises capturing your soft (e/c) eyes,

“Yeah, dumbass. You should’ve at least remembered how big of a clutz you are.” He smirks.

“But I guess this was nice… not so much the falling part…” He takes a moment to consider his next few words, breathing a little deeper.

“But these walks, speaking with you…” He averts his gaze,

“Just you, actually, y/n.” If your blush wasn’t already apparent, it was clear now.

He’s approaching your house as he finishes his sentence, but it feels as you’re both walking through time and space. A small galaxy opening up just for the two of you.

Reality stops in moments like these, Tsukki notes.

And it doesn’t feel… bad.

It feels right. Nice, even.

Before making it up to your front door, you reach your soft hand toward Tsukishima’s forcibly stoic face.

While outwardly, he’s kept his composure, his insides are producing so many SOS signals, it’s not even funny.

You lean forward, hand resting on his jaw, and place a short kiss to his cheek.

Leaning back, you catch a look of adoration in his eyes. Something he has no idea he’s physically showing right now.

He takes this chance to capture your soft lips in a kiss.

He hasn’t really done this before, but Tsukki gets how a kiss should work.

What didn’t cross his methodical, logic-based brain was just how good it would feel. Like a cloud, back-lit by golden sunlight, or a perfect chord progression to the most touching ballad.

It’s imperfect, but it’s electric.

Your lips melded with his so well, every second melting away his icier emotions. It began to introduce him to a new reason for life and a new meaning to love.

He eventually sets you down in front of your door.

But he has your hand lightly held in his, careful not to disturb the scrapes.

A huge grin spreads through your face, eyes lit up.

And he now knows why he can’t stop thinking about you. You really are a necessary part of his life. Worthy of breaking routines. Special enough to stop his flow and grumpily facetime you. Important enough to reshape himself to account for your existence.

With this final realization, Tsukki goes to his next line of action.

“So, are you free Friday?” He inquires.

“Actually, yeah! Can we go see that new dinosaur movie? I’m kind of obsessed with it.”

“Well, damn. This is gonna be even better than I expected.” He smirks, leaving you confused, but smiling at his response.

No, he wasn’t going to tell you about his discoveries from that day.

At least not in great detail.

But, thanks to this… to you, Tsukishima is learning to open himself up again. To take chances on himself and others. A process that is never too early to begin.

All it took was helping you back onto your feet to get you into his arms.

Something that both literally and relationally makes a whole lot of sense for some reason, Tsukki concludes.

[hoe-biwankenobi]

Dripping with Gold - Anakin Skywalker (1/2)

Apparently this is going to be the first SW fic I share. This is an interesting turn of event as I didn’t plan on having it done before my approx. 100000 WIPs, but honestly I like it, I truly do. So uh, enjoy!

PS: There WILL be a part 2 as there was a piece of dialogue I really wanted to get out there but couldn’t fit in this one. Stay tuned!

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Dark side!reader

Word count: 3304

Warnings: kinda emotional manipulation ngl, me liking evil monologues waaaaayyyyy too much.

Summary: “The dark side surrounds you. Your eyes, they’re--” There was a slight tremor in his voice and his breathing visibly accelerated. The anger that had momentarily flared in his eyes was gone now, leaving its place to a helplessness that made your heart ache. “This isn’t right, I’m dreaming, you couldn’t have--You led everyone believe you were gone, you led me to believe you had left me behind--”

The cold rain hit your face like ice shards as you laid on your back, motionless and in pain. You were surrounded by rocks and darkness, barely touched by the dull light of the day that began to dim already. Your breath was ragged and your limbs were numb to your command, even your voice wouldn’t respond to you. You tried to scream, you begged the force to let you call for help, to give you back control of your arms to at least attempt to flag a passing ship--any passing ship, but nothing came out of either actions. 

You didn’t know how long you had been there, or really what had happened. You had been on a training flight with your Master when your ship was shot down, you didn’t even know by whom. The crash had been rough, and the last thing you remembered before waking up in the crevasse was the ship breaking in half and propelling you in the opposite direction of your Master. It could have been any time measure really, but the dryness in your throat and your cramping stomach led you to believe you had been there for at least a day. You weren’t bleeding an awful lot, but you definitely had broken bones.

Nobody was coming for you. You had felt your Master’s force signature twice in the distance already, and no matter how hard you tried to project to him, he never answered. You were too weak, probably, and if it had really been an entire day, it meant he had abandoned the searches already. That much was the Jedi way, to be ready to let go at any time. You should have accepted it, after all, you lived by that code too, but something about the slow, agonising death alone in the cold that had taken a hold of you left a bitter hatred linger in your heart. 

Hot tears started to stream down your face, stinging your wounds and mixing with the burning ice of the rain. You wanted to scream, not for somebody to hear you, but to let out the choking pressure that gripped your chest with vicious hands. Despite your shivering in the cold, your muscles were burning with anger and fear of the tethering edge you were dangling from. You both wanted to run away from this planet, and to close your eyes with nightfall and never wake up. 

Then, a shadow settled over your still form. You could barely see who it was. 

“Master Ki-Adi?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, almost inaudible over the battering of the rain. 

“You must be mistaken, young one” An unknown voice replied as the figure crouched in front of you. “My name is Darth Tyrannus, but I can assist you all the same”

You willed yourself to snap out of the unpleasant memory with a snarl, hitting the armrest of the chair you were sitting in. The dark tapestry of the old temple you claimed for yourself on Jaguada greeted you back in the real world with a growing headache. If you started to have visions of the past, especially ones tied with the Jedi, it meant they were closing in. Yet, it felt strange to have this one in particular, one that was so intertwined to the dark side before you even turned. 

You knew who was coming for you. 

You couldn’t help but smile at how brilliantly your own fortune had turned. Out of all the Jedi that could have made the trip, it was the exact one you wanted to see more than anything. If you concentrated enough, you could feel his force signature slowly spread around the barren lands of Jaguada as he got closer to your location.

The last time you saw Anakin, you were both 17 years old inseparable padawans. He didn’t have a lot of friends at the temple, mostly due to him being trained outside of the regular padawan learners classes. You weren’t very outgoing either, so more often than not, you ended up hanging out together. It however became more than friendly interactions after a few years, and you found yourselves in love despite the Jedi code. His name alone brought memories of warm embraces and sneaking around between training sessions, something neither the Jedi or the Sith could ever make you let go of. Now, Anakin was the only vestige of your heart that was still rooted in the light side.

But you knew. You knew there was a darkness that clung to Anakin, there had always been. A frustration, a recklessness, an anger, an all encompassing fear of loss; you knew it wouldn’t be as hard as any other Jedi to convince him he didn’t belong on the light side of the force. Most importantly, you knew you could do it. You were almost certain his attachment to you ran deep enough to remain alive even after four years apart. 

You had followed his progress from afar, his slow descent closer to the dark side from his reaction to your death up to this moment in the Clone Wars after countless losses and traumatic baggage. You weren’t the only one either, you knew the Sith were interested in him as well, but you were determined to get him first. You wouldn’t let Darth Tyrannus, or worse, Darth Sidious get their hands on him first. 

You had been Dooku’s apprentice for a time after he had pulled you from that shipwreck. He taught you the ways of the dark side after giving you the push you needed to turn, but soon enough, you began to grow displeased with the Sith. There were always talks of a masterplan for which you were never privy, and you knew Darth Sidious did not like your presence by Dooku’s side. The Sith, whom you were told weren’t as restrictive as the Jedi, turned out to be exactly the same in the end; the never ending rule and the cycles of power designed to keep you kneeling only pushed you away in the exact same fashion as the Jedi. 

Your Master’s betrayal was the final straw. You could still vividly remember the harsh red glow of his blade greeting you in the middle of the night, your instincts jolting you awake and using the force to protect yourself. He had been sent flying so hard and so fast that the north wall of your quarters had collapsed on impact, partially burying him in debris. You knew you were stronger with the force than him at that point, but his experience far outweighed yours, so you grabbed your lightsaber and disappeared into the night before he could get up and resume the fight. 

Your journey to Jaguada hadn’t been easy, but you managed to evade the Sith and take residence on a planet that once belonged to them, to add to the irony. You were left alone in your retreat in the margins of the only city in the never ending desert, none of the occasional smugglers and scavengers brave enough to approach the temple. Your only visitor in two years was, in fact, the Jedi that had just crossed the threshold of the temple. Moments later, Anakin stood on the other side of the large, empty room, and your breath caught in your throat. While there was no doubt it was really him only by his strong and distinct force signature you’d recognize everywhere, it was like he was another person entirely. 

You observed him intensely as he did you, taking in how his features had gone from boyish to absolutely handsome, and how his larger shoulders and intimidating posture projected the image of an accomplished warrior instead of a teenager. His eyes, as beautiful as ever, were locked with your golden ones as a thousand emotions passed through them. Short lived relief, shock, disbelief, hurt, all of which were translated in echo in his force signature.

Then, your name was spoken softly, as if he wanted to make sure it was really you.

“Anakin” You simply replied, giving him a smile. “It’s good to see you again”

He didn’t return it, no, instead, his gorgeous features contorted with incomprehension and pain. “You’re a sith. All this time, you were a Sith”

Your smile dropped and your expression hardened. “I am most certainly not” 

“The dark side surrounds you. Your eyes, they’re--” There was a slight tremor in his voice and his breathing visibly accelerated. The anger that had momentarily flared in his eyes was gone now, leaving its place to a helplessness that made your heart ache. “This isn’t right, I’m dreaming, you couldn’t have--You led everyone believe you were gone, you led me to believe you had left me behind--”

“Anakin” You called his name again, standing up from your chair and taking a step towards him. The way he backed away hurt more than any lightsaber wound. “I never meant to leave you behind. All I’ve wanted for the last four years was getting back to you, but I couldn’t, I wasn’t ready yet for you to see me like this”

“What happened?” He asked under his breath, still guarded against you.

“We crashed the ship, Master Ki-Adi barely looked for me before leaving me to an agonizing death” You couldn’t hide the bitterness of your words. “Then I was found by Count Dooku, who showed me the ways of the dark side”

He took a step further away.

“I’m not one of them anymore, Anakin” You repeated, tempting a step forward. “I couldn’t--I wouldn’t stay with them, the simple mention of them brings a bad taste in my mouth. I left to make my own path, one where I don’t have to bend to pointless rules, where I don’t need to break my back to please, where I am free”

“Then come back with me to the Jedi Temple” He said, his eyes shining with something alike to hope. “If you renounced the Sith, you--you could return home, finish your training, become a Jedi again”

You couldn’t hide your sorrow. “I won’t return”

“The Jedi Council will understand--”

“I know they would” You cut him off gently. “But I don’t want to. I am not willing to give up my freedom for the people that left me to die alone. You are the only good thing left for me there, and I want you by my side, but not there”

“Don’t” He warned, his hand reaching for his lightsaber on his belt. “Don’t play this game with me”

You unclasped yours as well, but before he could ignite his, you handed him the silver hilt. His arm faltered at his side as he stared in confusion at your lightsaber, like he wasn’t sure if it was a trap or not.

“I’m not playing any games, Anakin” You insisted. “I have no desire to fight you. My heart and my life is yours, it has always been”

Before you could blink, the saber was gone from your hand and a blur of blue and red crossed at your throat. You however remained calm, meeting his conflicted gaze through the harsh purple hue from the lightsabers’ juxtaposition.

“Give me one reason not to bring your back to Coruscant as a prisoner now”

“Bring me, don’t bring me, it doesn’t matter” You replied. “Whatever you choose to do with me won’t quiet down the little voice in your head that knows you don’t belong with the Jedi either. I know about what happened to your mother--”

“You don’t know anything!” His voice rose up as the sabers inched closer to you. His teeth were gritted and his jaw locked tightly. “The dark side is lying to you, I won’t let it lie to me too”

“Is it? ” You raised an eyebrow. “They didn’t let you go help her when your instinct told you she was in danger. They frowned upon your actions when it was theirs that led to her death. I know what you did to the sand people who took her, and I think they deserved it”

His grip faltered, but he still held you trapped between the sabers. Pain, so much pain reflected in his eyes in a storm of emotions.

“And do you think what they did to your padawan was fair?” You added, and while you could definitely see a reaction through the shift in his expression, he remained unmoving. “Yes, I know about that too. They were ready to punish her for a crime that wasn’t her doing, they didn’t trust her because they didn’t trust you”

“Please stop”

“You need to open your eyes, Anakin” You spoke softly. “The Jedi are not what they were. They became politicians, they care more about appeasing the public opinion than upholding real peace. They will let civil war rage on, they will let people die because politics say they can’t be involved. They will let slave merchants go on their business because it benefits the Republic, in the end. Do you see how wrong all of this is?”

He retracted the blades of the sabers, letting his hands fall at his side, and you took the invitation to get closer until you were standing right in front of him. He didn’t push away from you or make a move to get away as his head seemed deep in troublesome reflection. 

“I am not bound by these rules” You whispered as your hand gently cupped his cheek, bringing back his eyes to yours. “Neither should you have to be. You are strong, the strongest Jedi to have ever lived, and you are destined to be so much more than a bell boy for the Republic. You could end wars, you could end slavery, and I want that too. Alone I can’t do much, but it will be possible with you by my side. There will be no Masters but ourselves, no code but our own. Nobody ever again will have to suffer as we did once we bring our justice to the Galaxy”

“I… I can’t do this to the Jedi order” He muttered, leaning into your touch. His words lacked the conviction he was trained to uphold, and while you knew you had to carry him to the edge just a little bit longer, you couldn’t help the triumphant feeling washing over you. He was so close to falling, it was almost euphoric. “I can’t do this to Obi-Wan”

You slowly pressed your forehead to his, closing your eyes at the more than familiar feeling of having him this close. Memories of stolen moments in the Temple away from prying eyes flooded your mind and soaked into your force signature in the form of a warm, all consuming wave. His arms around you, your hands caressing his neck, bright eyes reflecting the sun rays hitting down on you, hidden confessions and promises of forever. A single warm tear rolled down your thumb on his cheek, and that’s how you knew he was seeing the same images. The love you had for each other was tragically beautiful, but it wouldn’t have to be anymore. 

“Do you still love me, Anakin?” You finally said, your voice barely over a breath in the wind. 

“Yes”

“The Council would never let us be together” You slowly reopened your eyes, but his were still tightly shut. “They would expel us. They’ll never understand what we have, they’ll never understand what we mean to each other. I love you with all my heart, Anakin”

His breath hitched into a sob as you were met with his blue eyes glistening like crystals. 

“Stay with me” You offered once again. “Nobody will be able to take me away from you again. I’m already more powerful than Dooku, and you are more powerful than Sidious himself. There will be no fear, no pain, no hiding”

He just kept staring into your eyes as the remaining of the little resolve he had melted away like ice under a flame. The whirlpool of emotions he was projecting all over the room was intense and vivid as it swirled around you, and that’s when you felt it: a tipping in the force. It was clear and strong, and you knew this was it. He had made his choice.

“I don’t want to feel those things anymore, I want what you said we could have” His voice cracked. “How do I get there? Please tell me how”

“Kiss me”

A breath escaped his lips as he cautiously closed the small distance to press his lips to yours. You took the first slow moments to relax against him, savouring the feeling of wholy having him back to you. Your hand found the back of his neck and his hair that had gotten longer since his padawan days, tangling your fingers through his loose lock. The kiss turned a bit more hasty and aggressive as he began pressing into you, like he too realized you were his without being scared of the consequences. You finally broke away to breathe, meeting his eyes again where you could observe a newfound determination. 

“Let go of all that slows you down, Anakin” You panted as the distant sound of lightsabers hitting the ground reached your ears. “Tell me what you want”

“I want everything” He mumbled as his nose trailed impatiently on your cheek. “I want to stop the people who bring suffering to the galaxy. I want to hunt down slavers and let them know what true fear is, I want to free the galaxy of tyranny. And I want to love you through it all, I want you with me”

“Then it’s yours” You smiled. “It’s all yours. All you have to do is take it. Embrace it”

In a heartbeat, his lips were back on yours with a passion you had never felt in him before. His hands circled your waist and pulled you impossibly closer to him, his fingers pressing hard enough for you to feel it through your robes. You could barely keep up with his pace as he took full control of the kiss, bruising your lips with his furious pace. He was letting go of four years of pain, four years of stress where the world kept taking away from him without giving anything back. Now it was his turn to take.

He backed you up to the throne-like chair you had been sitting on earlier until the back of your knees hit the seat, but you flipped the positions around and gently pushed him back into it and broke away from the kiss. He slowly opened his eyes, a golden-like yellow matching yours greeting you instead of the blue you were used to. You took a moment to admire him as he sat back in his throne like a born king laying his claim on the world. He was even more handsome like this, with that little smirk on his face and power exuding from every fiber of his being. He reached for you and you straddled him, resting your hands flat on the dark tunic covering his chest. His left hand raised to engulf yours over his heart and gave it a little squeeze.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“Indeed it does” He teased, looking up and down your form on his knees. Then, he lifted his right hand and brushed his gloved thumb over your lower lip, eyeing his motion with what resembled fascination. “I feel it. The dark side of the force, I mean. It’s… stronger. Untamed. Pure”

“It’ll make you even more powerful” You smiled as he looked back into your eyes. “You can do anything now, it’s your choice, nobody can stop you”

He slowly grinned back at you.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Nearly Gone. PAIRING: Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader REQUEST: anon asked: “Hi! Can you please make an arthur/reader where the reader gets taken by the nite folk? She’s nearly dead when he finds her and he’s just v worried? Previously established relationship if you can“ WARNINGS: Some heavy stuff: torture, gore, kidnapping, murder, mentions of death. It’s mostly angst.  NOTE: This got...really long. I got really into it and it took off on me. It’s not a light read but things are looking up by the end at least. Anyway, I’m happy with how this turned out so I hope you all enjoy, much as I really leaned into the dramatics of it all here. 

...He was really hoping that wasn’t another body. 

Currently riding around in the swamps, the evening heat soaking into his skin, he knew he was pushing into territory that belonged to some rather terrifying folk. He’d heard the stories, seen a few of them. That weeping woman in the swamps, his concern met with knives and silence. The odd body he found tied to or hanging from trees, final letters confirming the horror the stories suggested. He’d even helped that man out in the swamps reclaim his house back from the bastards.

Regardless of his previous encounters, finding one of their victims was a disconcerting sight every time. 

Arthur spurred his horse into a quicker trot, approaching the tree with the strange shape that seemed to be growing out of the bark. However, the closer he got, the more he knew it was what he’d been hoping it wasn’t. It took him a moment to notice the details, the blood soaked ropes--and his stomach dropped. Along with knowing it was a body, he noticed the familiar clothing, blood soaked and torn, and the saddlebag that had been dropped at the base of the tree. 

He knew that saddlebag, it was the one he got you. 

He was looking at you. 

Words seemed to die in his throat, Arthur locking up a moment before he slowed his horse, getting out of the saddle and stepping down into the wet earth under his boots. Much as a part of him was saying he was cutting down your corpse--he could barely see your face, head tilted downward, your skin caked in grime. Yet, he still moved with great speed, pulling his knife out to cut away at the ropes around your chest. You weren’t dead, he wasn’t the one who found your corpse. 

As it would turn out, you weren’t dead but damn near close. 

As the ropes that were constricted around your torso were cut, you let out a sputtering wheeze, a bit of blood escaping your mouth with a quick, wet, cough. Arthur reached out as you sagged forward, quickly wrapping his arms around you as your legs made no attempt to keep you upright. He lowered you somewhat against the front of the tree next to your saddlebag, your breathing still a painful wheeze in his ears, but you were breathing. 

“I got you, darlin’, I--”

There was a sudden animal cry, one that sounded off yet familiar all the same. Arthur stood to his full height, keeping you sitting behind him as he removed his revolver. Sure enough, some people came running in out of the swamps, Arthur recognizing them as the Night Folk. Silent as ever, the only sound around him was the swamp and the crack of his gunshots as he took them out as quickly as he could manage. Much as it was better that you had nobody alive to trail after you, Arthur knew that his opportunity to keep you alive was rapidly closing with each shot he took. 

When the final body in the ambush dropped to the ground, Arthur wasted no time in letting out a shrill whistle to call his horse over. Again, more time being wasted, but when he scooped you up from the ground, you were still thankfully alive, letting out another rattling sound that might have been a noise of pain. Once his horse was close enough, Arthur lifted you up into the saddle, pulling himself up behind you before spurring his horse forward toward the Saint Denis doctor. Much as he didn’t want to show his face too much around the city currently, you would not survive the night back at camp. 

With the way you made no way to keep yourself upright in the saddle, your head lulled back against his chest and your body jostling with each beat of his horse’s hooves against the ground, he saw that clear as day. 

                                                           ***

Your legs were burning, feeling like you were losing control of your movements as you continued to try to sprint through the mud and water of the swamps. They were coming, you knew they were. You had heard a woman screaming, crying. Much as you had just wanted to get to Saint Denis, you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore it. Though, with the startle of your horse darting off into the trees and the woman rising up with murderous intent once you had gotten close enough, your mind had panicked and you took off sprinting. 

There was still the weight of your revolver around your hip, your run slowing after a good scramble to keep yourself going. To open the distance between you and these people, yet you couldn’t. With your mind racing, you stopped completely, pulling the weapon out of its holster and aimed it toward the people charging toward you. 

You fired off a couple shots, dropping a few as they came out of the trees. In the back of your mind, you knew you were already low on ammo. Some part of you just shrugged at the idea of heading up to Arthur’s room to get the ammo you needed. You figured you would just get more at the general store while you were in the city, and yet--

You pulled the trigger and it hit an empty chamber as more people moved out of the trees toward you. The whole time, outside of the sobbing from the woman earlier, there was no shouting, taunting. No gunshots, no horses being used to overtake you. If you had been more prepared, if you had known better, you might have had a chance to fight back against them. 

Yet, you made enough mistakes to make that an impossible situation in the moment. You ran from your horse and you were out of ammo. 

In a last ditch effort, you turned and flung your revolver toward the person nearest to you. It connected, you heard it, but you had turned around before you could really see in order to run. However, you were greeted with a solid body, your immediate reaction was to start swinging. Your fist connected with their gut, yet as you moved to side step around them, something solid came down hard across the back of your head. 

Immediately, there was a ringing in your ears, your exhausted legs giving out under the harshness of the blow. 

                                                         ***

Thankfully, the streets of Saint Denis were pretty bare at night. 

Arthur knew he could not afford to slow down for anything or anybody, his horse’s hooves against cobblestone echoing in his ears as he tried to keep you upright in the saddle with a steady arm wrapped around your torso. There had been no response to his words, his assurances. It seemed like you had no idea you were even alive still, just a mess of blood and mud stained clothes and dangling limbs. You couldn’t have been tied to that tree for long, they were hanging about to wait until he was distracted enough to attack and you were still alive. 

He was kicking himself--he should have known something like this was going to happen. With how everything had been headed for the gang, he figured this might as well have been something to expect. You had left to see what you could stir up in the city, had seemed somewhat excited about it. Remarked how you hadn’t been in one in years but knew how to work them for your benefit. You had placed your hand on his shoulder, commenting on the tightness of his expression before you pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“I’ll be fine, you just have to trust me on this.” 

Now it seemed like you were going to die in his arms. 

He steered his horse around another corner, charging down the street as it became more familiar. Eventually, he found what he was looking for, two figures standing just outside of the practice as it seemed to be getting dark. The doctor and one of the nurses who had been working glanced up at his approach, Arthur pulling back on the reins of his horse as the doctor started to walk toward him. 

“What happened?” the doctor demanded, Arthur slowing his horse to a stop next to him. 

“Found her out in the swamps, strung up like a...I dunno. She’s in a bad way.” 

“We had just shut the doors to the practice but--”

“She’s--” he paused, slipping off the saddle while trying to keep you from falling off with him before he could gather you into his arms. “She’s very dear to me. She ain’t gonna make it through the night if she can’t get any help…” 

“Alright. Alright, come on,” the doctor said, turning quickly as he gestured toward the woman standing a few steps behind him, meeting Arthur’s gaze with a bit of a wide-eyed stare. “Miss, we need to get the surgery ready. Please light the lanterns, I am going to need to examine her wounds.” 

Arthur followed behind the two of them into the somewhat dark building toward one of the rooms, the doctor opening the door before pointing toward one of the tables inside. 

“Put her down there,” he directed, Arthur slipping past him to do so as the room eventually grew brighter from the lanterns. You tensed and shook somewhat in his arms as he did so, another sign that you were still with them. Arthur placed you down on the table, your body still not doing anything to move on its own outside of the odd jerk or noise that would escape your mouth. 

Arthur stepped aside as the doctor moved in to look you over, examining the parts that were still bleeding and opening one of your eyes. 

“She’s not all that responsive, her head’s very warm…” he commented, shaking his own head, “I’ve seen these wounds before, too, on…” 

He didn’t finish his sentence, Arthur didn’t really need him to. You were probably in the minority who were alive enough to be taken to him for help after an attack from who you had run into. 

“I’m going to try to treat her wounds, stop the bleeding,” the doctor said, glancing toward Arthur, “You’ve done enough for tonight, you should try to get some sleep. There’s that saloon in town where you can get a room if you--” 

“I ain’t leavin’ until I know she’s not gonna be dead by the time I’m awake.” 

“...Suit yourself,” the doctor said after a beat, “There are chairs out in the hallway. You don’t have to leave but there’s no use in you standing behind me while I do this.” 

                                                         ***

You were jerked awake by sudden movement, someone pulling you up from the dirty floor of the cabin you had been kept in. You could still taste the rag that had been shoved in your mouth, any protest you let out at being moved being muffled. Your body ached from being dragged around, cuts and wounds starting to heal over, some burning with freshness. You had tried to escape many times, usually met with some resistance and recently the sharp edge of a blade shoved into your side. 

That wound was bad, making it hard for you to stand upright. 

Nobody talked, not to you and not really to each other. You knew they had some sort of system, mimicking certain animal noises that got certain responses from the people around you. Still, you had no idea what was going on. 

However, there was commotion, people moving about quickly in defense of whatever or whoever was outside. You were pulled harshly toward the back of the cabin and outside, your body protesting with sharp flares of pain as you tried to resist what was happening. The sounds of gunshots startled you, causing you and the person trying to sneak you out to flinch. You had never seen them use guns, not when attacking and they hadn’t used them when they had chased you down the few times you got further than a couple steps. 

With that knowledge, you started to thrash about in the grip of your captor--someone else was there. This could be your chance. 

You were dragged along, your screams and pleas for help were held behind the rag you couldn’t get out of your mouth and the force of being pulled along. 

With another breath through your nose, you managed to turn yourself around toward the cabin again where the fight was happening. You could see the people of the group keeping you dropping like flies, your eyes scanning for the flash of a gun. Eventually, your eyes found the source, the person moving along quickly toward the cabin. You took in another quick breath, your eyes widening. 

You knew that hat, that shirt. You knew that face. 

He didn’t see you, too busy shooting at the people coming out of the cabin. Still, you screamed, feeling the vibration of it behind the rag. With the gunshots and distance, it was no use but you tried. You screamed, tried to call for help. His name. All the while you were pulled around, your legs giving out in desperation as you started to sob as your struggle and desperation went unnoticed. You were pulled upright and over a shoulder, your eyes still on the cabin as they stung with tears.

Arthur, please…

                                                            ***

All he could really do was wait. 

The doctor left the room a while ago, wiping the blood from his hands as he directed the nurse there with him to help him move you into one of the beds in the other room. Arthur could feel the exhaustion from the stress and anxiety, the lack of sleep weighing heavily along with the guilt. He knew these people were out there when you had left--perhaps not to the full extent, he hadn’t really until he had got that cabin back for that man in the swamp. You had been missing that whole time and he had no damn idea. 

He should have warned you, went with you or--shit, he didn’t even know. Maybe that guilt was misplaced, some reasonable part of him arguing that he couldn’t have known this would have happened, and yet he couldn’t even bring himself to look at you when you were moved by the doctor and the nurse into another room. 

He should have said more to you. That he valued your presence, that you stayed with him even during points where he was angry, stressed, and a pain to even be around. Through the arguments. He loved you, he knew that long before this happened. He felt terrible that this was what pushed all of it further to the surface, but it was true. 

“You should try to get some sleep.” 

He was getting tired of hearing that. 

Arthur glanced up to see the soft eyes of the nurse that had been with them for the night, the streets outside getting somewhat lighter but still very much dark. He let out a small sigh through his nose, rubbing tiredly against the side of his jaw. 

“The doctor’s closed her wounds and stopped the bleeding, the most we can do now is let her rest and wait to see if she wakes up enough to drink and eat something. She’s very weak but until then...there’s nothing else any of us can do,” she explained, lowering her gaze somewhat, “I’ll stay tonight until another nurse comes in the morning. The doctor doesn’t like to give beds to non-patients with how things are in this city, otherwise I would offer you to stay with her, but…” 

“I understand,” Arthur said, somewhat clipped but not as stern as he had been a couple hours ago--he could feel how useless he was in this situation. They didn’t need to tell him that. 

“If you stay in the Bastille, I can send someone to your room as soon as she’s woken up,” she offered, Arthur letting out a small sigh through his nose. 

He really didn’t want to leave the building with them still not being able to give him assurance and you weren’t going to pass away while he was asleep, but…

“..Fine,” he said with a sigh, “Thank you. I’m gonna need to hold ya to that.” 

“Of course,” the nurse said with a small nod, Arthur returning it lightly as he stood from the chair. His limbs felt heavy, the energy his anxiety had given him had ebbed out and he knew exhaustion very well. 

There was nothing he could do right now. Still, he cast a glance toward the room they put you in before he relented and headed toward the door. 

��                                                         ***

It didn’t feel real anymore, but you knew you were running again. Running with reckless abandon, tripping and fumbling over exposed roots and mud that threatened to pull the boots right off your feet. 

Still, you needed to keep moving. They couldn’t find you again, they were going to kill you. 

Why they had kept you alive for so long, you had no idea. You were exhausted, being dragged from place to place, days blurred together. Yet, you saw your chance when the person watching you had succumbed to his own exhaustion, causing you to move toward the water and followed that along until you were far enough away to start running toward the road. 

Any damn road, anybody with people on it. 

You stumbled, the rope keeping your arms binded seeming to slip away through your struggling. Finally. You paused a moment to rip the cloth in your mouth away with a gag and stuttered cry of relief. Though, you knew that would be short lived if you didn’t keep moving. Working up a small amount of willpower, you started to run again, much as your legs felt like dead weight at that point. 

The swamp seemed to stretch on forever--just mud, water, and trees. 

Still, you continued to move, pushing forward as fast as your legs could carry you. Eventually, things seemed to even out, the ground becoming more solid. You slowed for a moment, looking around you while breathing and wheezing heavily. It was a road, one you had been hoping to find, yet it didn’t feel right. Everything felt still, like it was waiting. You were waiting. Why did you stop? You breathed out heavily, shifting before turning and started to run again down the road. You needed to keep going, needed to find your way to town or back to camp or--

The thoughts were cut short by a whizzing sound, your body suddenly hit the ground with the impact long before you felt the pain of it. Looking down, you could feel the sharp pain starting to shoot up your leg as a makeshift arrow stuck out of your leg. 

Shit, no. No, no no! 

You tried to get up, yet any movement had you sobbing out in pain as the arrow did its job. It wasn’t long until you heard footfalls coming toward you. Yet, that unreal feeling seemed to settle around you, the sound of a struggle coming from behind you before more people’s legs appeared in your line of vision. They were pulling someone along, hearing an all to familiar voice in your ears. 

Suddenly, you knew that person they were holding, the outfit, the satchel, the boots. You struggled to find your voice, couldn’t look up to see him but you heard him struggle, squirm, before there was a sickening sound, a gurgling that had your gut twisting and robbed the air from your strained lungs as you saw him stop moving, legs going limp before he was dropped. 

He landed in a heap on the ground in front of you, his neck stained with blood as Arthur stared lifeless into the space above your head. You seemed to find your air first, taking in a deep breath as you felt someone grip your arms and hauled you to your feet. 

In the doctor’s practice in Saint Denis, one of the nurses jolted and dropped a glass onto the floor when you, despite your injuries, managed to shoot upright in bed and screamed bloody murder. 

                                                           ***

It took a few moments for him to stir. 

Getting that damn hotel room felt terrible. Everything was too rich, too luxurious for what he had just been through. Still, a bed was a bed. It took some tossing and turning before Arthur managed to find some sleep--dreamless, despite everything. Still, he wasn’t too sure what that sound was until it happened again. Sounded like someone banging against something, until reality sunk in and he realized it was his door. 

Arthur sat up quickly, blinking heavily and stumbling slightly as sleep lingered, but managed to pull it open to see that nurse from before standing outside. She looked exhausted, somber. For a few moments, he felt his stomach tighten as a part of him waited for the words. 

We acted too late, she--

“She’s awake,” she stated around a somewhat tired exhale, “A tad hysterical with her fever, but awake. If you wish to see her, now is the time.” 

The relief he felt was instant, Arthur shutting his eyes a moment as he let out a breath before he nodded, stating he’d follow behind in a minute. He managed to pull himself together from the lingering effects from sleep, gathering his things before heading down toward his horse to make his way back to the doctor. He wasn’t too sure what would be greeting him when he got there, but if you were awake, that was a good sign. 

He walked into the building and down toward the room they had put you in, seeing the doctor from before in there as he was talking to you while you were nursing something from a tin cup. 

“You have to rest, straining your sutures like that again won’t be good,” he explained, your gaze on the blanket over your lap as you nodded lightly. 

You looked terrible. They had cleaned you a bit while you were resting, at least in the face and arms, but he could see the days of little sleep in your face. However, he didn’t get to linger on the thought long as you raised your gaze to meet his own. The expression that crossed your face was...strange. Your eyes widened, stare unwavering as if you were looking a ghost in the face. The doctor shifted, glancing over his shoulder toward him as well before raising to his feet, turning toward you. 

“I’ll give you two a moment, but you really need to rest.” 

Your gaze flickered between Arthur’s and the doctors, as if you were disbelieving that he was even standing there. Arthur finally moved forward as the doctor moved toward his surgery, all of which was watched by you in complete silence. He moved toward the bed, pausing a moment as he tried to find what to say. However, you raised your arms toward him, Arthur moving toward you at the invitation. 

He had been expecting you to pull him into an embrace, yet your hands found his face, cupping his cheeks as you seemed to take him in. Arthur let out a somewhat confused huff when he felt you tilt his head up as if to look under his chin for something. 

“Head’s still attached, far as I’m aware,” he commented, tilting his head back down as you pressed your hands against his cheeks again. 

“I thought you were dead,” you said, your voice rough and shaking somewhat. 

“What?”

“I-I-I saw you die!” you exclaimed, tears gathering in your eyes, “I saw...I saw your neck get…”

“I weren’t the one strung up in a tree,” he replied, bringing his own hands up to remove your hands from his face as he felt your fingers digging in a bit as if feeling the bone under his skin would be enough to confirm he was there. “I weren’t just thinkin’ you was, either. You came very close to dyin’.” 

“...They got me,” you muttered, closing your eyes tightly for a moment. 

“They don’t no more,” Arthur stated, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed as he held your hands in his own. Your hands were clammy and shaking, but he would take that over the lifeless body he had carried in the night before. 

“I ain’t lettin’ nobody take you again, I promise,” he continued, letting you pull your hands from under his own. 

Instead of pulling them toward yourself or shying away from his words, you reached out toward him again. Arthur shifted forward, wrapping his arms gently around your back as you held tightly to his shoulders, letting out a few shuttering breaths as you buried your face in his neck. He brought his hand up to the back of your head, holding you to him as you tightened your hold. 

“I’m scared I’m going to sleep and wake up...in the swamps or you’ll be gone and…” 

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Arthur stated, “We don’t have to go anywhere, either. Got a room in that saloon for a couple days, if the doctor’s got you out by then. I’ll explain what happened if anybody comes lookin’.”

You nodded lightly against him, Arthur feeling you relax in his hold somewhat. He shifted back as you did, but you didn’t pull away completely as your hands found his face again, looking deeply into his eyes for a moment before you nodded, seeming to accept that he really was there. 

Arthur leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the side of your head before pressing his forehead there. 

“Almost lost you,” he muttered, watching as you leaned your head against his own, screwing your eyes shut. “I love you, darlin’. Not sure what I would’ve done if I did.” 

“I love you, too,” you whispered, cupping your hand against the stubble on his cheek, “I’m not going anywhere, either.” 

Arthur nodded lightly against the side of your head, holding the gesture for a few more moments before he pulled away to let you rest back against the pillow. 

“You look exhausted,” you commented, making Arthur chuckle. 

“Yeah, but not as much as you. Should get some rest, let them do what they need and you’ll be fine.” 

You nodded lightly, holding onto his hand as you allowed yourself to nod off. Arthur squeezed your hand in return as you did so, glancing away toward the doorway somewhat. His chest still tightened uncomfortably at the thought of what you had been through, and his memories of the night before, but with your breathing evening out and your hand resting in his own, he finally felt himself relax. 

He still held your hand for some time after, keeping that moment. 

[western-writer]

Betrayal Beyond Forgiveness

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Warnings: cussing, descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood and death

Summary: The Whitetails conspire against Rook out of fear but things don't go the way they expected them to go.

A/n: Finally! I've been trying to produce content for the longest time but I couldn't finish anything to save my life. But here this is and I'm very happy with it. I also didn't proof read this but will be going back through as time goes on to edit things. Enjoy!

Betrayal is a funny thing. The stinging, burning sensation that pools and spreads like electricity throughout your chest and settles into a pit in your stomach. How it feels when that first jolt of Earth shattering realization leaves you reeling. Questions racing in your mind, yet somehow you’re unable to think or choke out the words caught in your throat. It’s funny because betrayal always comes from those you would least expect. That's what betrayal is. You enemies... you expect that much from them. You expect them to try to hurt you. You expect them you screw you over. But when it comes from those closest to you... it cuts deeper than you could imagine. 

Rook would’ve expected something like this from Jacob - a set up. But the Whitetails? Eli? Rook couldn’t wrap her head around it. 

It was just supposed to be a simple extraction of supplies the cult had taken. Stealth is her specialty, after all. Rook dropped the Peggies quick - almost too quick. To Eli’s dismay, this only drove his point forward and confirmed a suspicion he had for quite some time. Jacob’s trails had changed her and, the cult having been mostly under control, it was time to put her down. 

Eli and Tammy watched her on his cameras as she worked. Tammy wore a “I told you so" look as Eli ignored it. With a heavy sigh, he raised his walkie talkie to his mouth and spoke. “We proceed as planned. I’m sorry, Dep.”

Having no idea of this so-called plan, Dep went through the plan as she was told. The area is secure, now she needs to check to see if the supplies are there. 

This part felt a bit strange to Rook. Why should she check to make sure the supplies are there? If they sent her out on his mission, wouldn’t they already be sure they’re here?

Rook ignored her warnings going off in her head and she opened each container. Her heart dropped as she heard the familiar click and she knew what was coming. She had just triggered a count down to a bomb explosion. 

Thinking quickly, Rook turned and sprinted away as fast as she could, but she wasn’t quite fast enough. The explosion went off behind her, sending Rook flying through the air. 

Eli thought the plan had gone off without a hitch as a Whitetail checked her pulse and found no sighs of it. “I think she’s gone, boss. I think the plan worked.” Eli could only hope that she died a quick death. Tammy breathed a sigh of relief. 

“It’s better this way, Eli. She would’ve been a danger to us all. I’ve seen what happens to people after they go through those trails. Now it’ll look like she went down a hero. No one will know.” 

Eli sighs, getting ready to announce her death, but there’s one problem. 

Rook didn’t die in the explosion. She was knocked unconscious and came to just in time to hear about the conspiracy to kill her. She laid there for who knows how long just letting it sink in. Her head throbbed, probably due to the conclusion and she’s pretty sure she has a few broken ribs. Rook was pelted with shrapnel and is bleeding from multiple wounds all over her body. Multiple bones are horribly damaged.

Jacob, she would’ve expected to do something like this. Not the people she called family. Not after all that she’s done for them. The Whitetails are playing with fire and if she lives through these injuries, they’re gonna get burned. 

“Deputy, Deputy, Deputy...” Jacob’s disapproving voice rings in her ears. “Bet you wish you listened to me now, huh?”

Rook opens her eyes a little bit, fighting off the drowsiness threatening to take over. Her vision is blurry and her ears still ring intensely from the explosion. She'll be surprised if she doesn't have some sort of hearing loss, even despite the ear plugs she wears.

It was sad seeing the fearsome Deputy laying here in a pool of her own blood. Having been betrayed by none other than the Whitetail Militia. Pathetic, really. 

Rook, being the stubborn woman she is, struggles to sit up, only to have Jacob slowly push her back down. He cracks a smile, finding a bit of amusement in this. 

“What do you want, Jacob?” she tries to hiss, but it comes out weak. 

Jacob sighs. “I tried to warn ya. You didn’t wanna listen. Now look where you are. Alone. Dying. How does betrayal feel?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rook manages to growl. 

Jacob laughs. “I’ll hand it to ya, kid. You’ve got some real nerve. I can respect that."

Rook coughs, blood ozing from between her lips and she rolls over. Jacob watches her, almost like he's studying her as she spits out the blood. There's not a lot, but it's enough for Rook to be concerned.

"You have blood in your lungs," he tells her.

"No shit," she rasps. "Why... are you here?"

Jacob chuckles, wiping some blood from her mouth. "I hear everything, Deputy. These are my mountains, after all. I heard the whisperings. I'm honestly surprised they followed through. Their plan would've worked perfectly had someone bothered to confirm that you were dead. They just screwed themselves, didn't they?"

Rook nods slowly, beginning to wheeze. Jacob sighs.

"I guess I've screwed with you enough. C'mon." He extends his hand down and slide it under her back, lifting carefully.

"W-what're you doing?"

"I can't let them go and kill my best weapon, now can I?" He puts his other hand under her back and lifts her up. Rook doesn't bother with trying to struggle or fight him. She doesn't want to die. Not yet and certainly not because of people she would've given her life for.

Jacob picks her up, carrying her as gently as possible as to not injure her further. She rests her head on his shoulder, feeling oddly comforted.

Jacob felt oddly bad for the Deputy. It was never a feeling he expected to feel toward the young rookie. He felt her breathing against him, slow and raspy, pained. Anger burned inside him. Maybe he had a soft spot for her. He has to admit he holds a fair amount of respect for her. She's doing what most people couldn't, wouldn't, or would die trying to do. If he's being honest, he feels responsible for putting her in this situation, but at the same time, this is exactly what he wanted so why does he feel so guilty?

News of Rook's death shook the county. Everyone felt the sting of the loss all while she laid at the Vet's Center recovering and healing. Deputy Pratt stayed by her side the whole time in utter disbelief that the Resistance would do that to her. It took months for her to be well enough to stand and walk around but once she crossed that threshold when healed quickly, though, her loyalties had shifted just a bit and she would never be the same again.

Jacob tried to persuade her to forget about the Resistance. "After everything they've done to you," he said.

"It wasn't the whole Resistance, Jake," Rook defended them. "Just the Whitetails. And that still doesn't change the fact that what you and your siblings are doing is wrong."

Jacob just rolls his eyes. "If one part of the Resistance did this, the rest could easily too."

"The actions of the Whitetails don't speak for everyone, Jake. There's still parts of the Resistance that have fought beside me and some people have given their lives for me. I can't just forget that."

"Sometimes I think you're too loyal, Rook. I really do."

Now it's Rook's turn to roll her eyes. "Whatever you say, Jacob. I need answers and I intend to get them, whether you like it or not."

As Rook made her way out of the room, Jacob felt compelled to call after her, so he did. "Hey!"

Rook stop, turning to face him, seemingly annoyed. "What?"

"I just don't want them to burn you again. I don't want you to waste your energy on people that would literally murder you after all you've done for them. What if when you show up, they freak out and actually do kill you? I didn't save you just to have you be killed."

Rook would've be irritated with him if it weren't for the shock overriding her senses. This kind of vulnerability was incredibly uncharacteristic for Jacob, yet here he was. He showed her a side not many people had ever seen. His caring side. A side to him many people would argue is nonexistent.

Rook was confused at where the sudden concern came from but decided to brush it off - for now.

"It'll be okay, Jake," Rook responds, using her nickname for him to ease the tension. "They'll be too shocked to do anything."

Jacob watched her leave and sighs. At this point he feels a sort of obligation toward her and keeping her safe. The feelings confuse him greatly and he's unsure what to make of them. All he knows is that he hates it.

Rook stands in the doorway behind Eli, waiting for the perfect moment to make her presence known. She fights the angry trying to explode in her and reminds herself: you're here for answers, not to start a fight.

"Hey, Eli..." Rook says softly, making the man stop dead in his tracks and turn slowly.

"Deputy...?"

"Hey..."

With just a few strides Eli had closed to distance between them and hugged her tight. He was genuinely relieved to see her and know that he hadn't killed her. Guilt thumped in his chest like a drum as he held onto her.

"I thought you died..."

Rook had to admit, his embrace felt good. She wished she could forget the deception.

Eli pulls back and looks Rook in the eye. He notices that one has obvious damage to the cornea. Rook catches onto what he's looking at.

"Some, uh, some metal shaving managed to find their way into my eye during the explosion. Don't worry, it only took about 30% of my sight in that eye. My hearing though... I have about half of what I had."

"Dep - I am - I am so sorry."

"I also lost about 25% of my breathing capacity. Major concussion that will effect my cognitive function for the rest if my life. Broken skull and major brain bleeding. My left knee cap basically had to be rebuilt because of how shattered it was when I landed on it after the explosion threw me. My right ankle was broken, both wrists, my left femur, and both my radius and ulnar were pretty well mangled. Did I tell you that not only were multiple organs bruised, but my kidney had ruptured just a little bit? Oh and I had a ton of tissue damage, but I pulled through."

"If anyone could've done it, Dep, it was you."

"Yeah, it was me," Rook chuckles humorlessly. "After being left for dead on the ground... left to bleed out or die of organ failure... you'd never guess who found me but that doesn't matter right now." Rook takes a few steps into the Wolf's Den and looked around. The place was seemingly empty. "What matters is..." she trails off, turning to face Eli. "why'd you do it, Eli?"

A look of shock is plastered of Eli's face as he takes a step back. "D-do what?"

"Set me up, Eli. Why did you set me up? Why did you try to kill me? After everything I've done for you and this fucking county."

"I-I'm sorry, Dep. I really am. You were dangerous, or at least that's what they told me."

"You're smarter than that, Eli. Or at least I thought you were. Letting someone manipulate your thoughts like that... Who was it, hm? Was it Tammy? You know she never liked me."

"After the trials Jacob put you through-! She was terrified that he would use you against us. And I saw it Dep. How you took all those cultists down... it was unnatural."

"Are you fucking kidding me!? Seriously!? I have been fighting for my life, Eli! I've had to change to adapt my methods to fucking survive and you wanna say I'm dangerous because I had to get better? You really don't understand what I was up against. While you got to sit in here I was out there doing anything and everything you wanted me to do." She points to the door. "I was being kidnapped and shot and beaten. I killed for you and I wpildve DIED for you but THIS is how you repay me!? Fuck you, Eli. I thought you were family. I THOUGHT I could FUCKING TRUST YOU."

Rook steps forward, shoving Eli hard and he stumbles, falling to the ground. Rook stalks over, kneeling down next to him.

"You thought I was dangerous before? Get a load of this. Jacob saved me. That's right. Jacob. You know how much damage I could do if I wanted to? All I'd have to do is tell him where this precious hideout is and he'd come down on all of you so fast and so hard that you would never know what hit. You all would be dead before you could get your radio out. The Whitetails would be extinct and all it'd take is just a few words."

"You wouldn't dare," Eli hisses, glaring at her.

"Wouldn't I, though?" Rook answers dangerously. "All it'd take is a few words and your life would be snuffed out much like you tried to do to me. You involuntarily gave me so much power, Eli. Guess next time you'll check my pulse yourself, huh?"

"Dep... please."

Rook sighs, standing up and turning away from him. "And even though you'd fucking deserve it, I won't do that. But I will tell the rest of the Resistance what all of you did and let them decide what to do with you."

A crushing weight falls onto Eli. "I'm sorry, Dep. I really am. I never wanted any of this to happen."

Rook sighs and places her hands on the table in the main room. "You know I can never forgive you or any of the Whitetails for this, right Eli? I would've given my life for you guys... How am I supposed to forgive this? No. I can't. I just can't."

"I understand, Dep... I don't blame you."

Rook takes a deep breath and turns to him again, seeing that he has gotten to his feet. "I've been doing some talking and I've managed to talk Joseph down. They're not leaving but they'll stop targeting and recruiting unwilling participants as long as the Resistance leaves them alone."

"What does that mean for you, Dep?"

She smiles a bit. "I don't know... I mean I just experienced life altering trauma, both physical and mental. I have permanent brain damage. Another bad hit to the head could kill me. So I guess... early retirement. I'm partially blind, can't bear for shit anymore and get winded by walking for extended amounts of time so it's really my only option."

He wanted to say it again. He wanted to apologize until he lost his voice. He couldn't believe he had been so dumb. She will never forgive the Whitetails and neither will he. He will never forgive himself.

"Goodbye, Eli," Rook muttered as she left the bunker. All Eli could do is watch her leave and prepare for the chaos that is about to erupt. The Resistance will be furious with them. They'll be luckily if the rest of them don't kill them.

Rook found herself back at the Vet's Center and questioned herself for a moment before going inside. She could've gone anywhere but she chose here. She chose to come back.

Jacob is waiting for her as she enters his office.

"They thought I was a danger to them..." she mutters.

"Why?"

"Your trials... they thought you'd use me against them."

Just as Jacob feared, they had caught onto his plan. But she would never know that.

Surprisingly, Jacob walked over to Rook and hugged her.

She was stunned and almsot pushed him away before accepting the affection. God knows she needed it after the last few months she had. She never thought she'd find comfort in Jacob Seed but here she is.

And as for Jacob, feeling the younger woman in his arms did something to him. He didn't want to let go. He didn't want her to go. And he would do anything to make sure she didn't.

Some things are better left unsaid and Jacob is sure that this is one of them.

[idkxwriting]

Treacherous - Chapter Thirteen

Author:  idkhaylijah

Pairings: Reader x Elijah Mikaelson, Reader x Dean Winchester

Word Count: 5.9k (extra long chapter since it’s been a billion years since the last update and you guys have been sooooo patient!)

A/N: man, what a year I’ve had. But, my muse is back (for now) and I hope you guys like this chapter. I can’t wait to share the rest with you. Thanks for reading! If you don’t know by now, Treacherous is the last story I will be doing with a tag list - so if you want to stay up to date, follow @idkhaylijahwrites​ and turn on notifications as it will be only new work :) 

Chapter 12  - Masterlist - Leave Feedback

Y/N leaned back into the worn leather of the booth she occupied, blinking heavily. She looked around, taking in the familiar scene of the Mystic Grill before her. “I need another drink,” she commented.

Damon nodded and smirked. “Wait right here,” he said, making his way up to the bar.

Y/N smiled to thank him, and glanced around her old stomping ground. She let the warmth of the fireplace in the center wash over her as she thought about how many nights had ended with her, Caroline, Elena and Bonnie in the very booth she sat in. She smiled into the flames.

“Y/N,” Sam’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned to find him walking toward her, Dean in tow.

She hoped her expression hadn’t betrayed her, but as they approached, Sam glanced between her and his brother. His face fell as he realized he was once more in the middle of something he wasn’t sure he understood.

“Mulder, Scully!” Damon returned from the bar, drinks in hand. “Fancy meeting you two here.”

“Told you you were Scully," Dean said under his breath to his brother before clearing his throat. "We just wanted to relax a bit, grab a drink. Stefan mentioned the Grill. ‘Best bar in town,’ he said.” He glanced around. It wasn’t a dive bar, so it was a step up in his book.

“It’s the only bar in town,” Damon winked. “Have a seat,” Damon gestured, steering Sam into the empty bench as he flagged a waitress down. He was quick to sit next to Sam, leaving the only available seat beside Y/N.

Dean rolled his eyes, his jaw tightening.

Y/N scooted out of the booth. “Please, sit,” she gestured awkwardly. “I’m just gonna hit the restroom…” she shot Damon a disapproving glare, but his smug smile showed no remorse.

She brushed past Dean, her steps rushed as she tried to get out of there. She felt his eyes on her, and she quickened her pace.

As she turned the corner she slammed into a hard body, stumbling backwards. “Sorry,” she began, her eyes trailing upwards to find a familiar grin.

“Y/N?”

She couldn’t help but smile back. “Matt! How are you?”

He shrugged, his hand waving down the front of him. “Picking up a shift, what are you doing here?”

She also shrugged. “Just home for a visit,” she answered vaguely.

He knew better, Matt always did, but she wasn’t sure how much she wanted to fill him in, and truth be told, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be roped in. He laughed, bending down to hug her. “It’s good to see you.”

She shared in his sentiment, hugging him a little longer than necessary. “You too,” she grinned as she pulled away.

Matt glanced over her shoulder. “Is Elijah with you?”

She shifted uncomfortably as she shook her head. “Uh, no, he’s at Stefan’s, actually…”

Matt glanced at her with curiosity but didn’t push.

“Listen,” she started. “I’m gonna let you get to work, but it was good to see you.”

He nodded. “You too.” He hugged her once more and as he turned to walk away she called after him.

“Matt?”

“Yea?”

She bit her lip. “Do me a favor and maybe get out of town for a few days.”

“Y/N if there’s something I should know…”

“There’s always something,” she paused, considering her friend for a moment and everything he could be if he could just get away from it all. “You deserve better than Mystic Falls.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, and she knew he’d insist on being involved later. He always did when push came to shove. “I’ll catch you later,” he said, turning to clock in for his shift.

Y/N continued to make her way down the hall. The bathroom was empty, and she was grateful for a quiet moment to gather herself before facing Dean. She let out a deep breath, running her hand through her hair as she studied her reflection.

The image in the glass flickered, and she leaned in closer, sure her eyes were playing tricks on her. Her face reflected back at her, but it didn’t match. She reached out tentatively, her fingertips tracing the surface of the mirror. It was ice cold beneath her touch, and the lights began to dim.

Her heart raced as she realized it wasn’t a trick of the mind. Her reflection gave a sinister smirk and when she stepped back it screamed in horror, the high pitch shattering the glass in the mirror. Shards flew everywhere, the sharp edges slicing her skin. She was quick to cover her face, her forearms shielding her eyes as she tucked her head low, trying to drown out the unbearable screaming, but it was too much.

She dropped, sure her eardrums would burst, the pain unbearable. She tried to cry out but it was useless, the shrill shrieking drowning her out.

*****

The world went quiet once more, and Y/N opened her eyes, her surroundings completely different.

She was so sure she had been in the bathroom at the Grill, but she had somehow managed to find her way in the alleyway behind it, instead. She stood carefully, feeling disoriented. The sting the glass cuts had left had faded, and she studied her arms, finding no evidence of the shattered mirror at all.

“Y/N?”

She turned around to find Matt, trash bags in hand. He tossed them with ease into the large dumpster, and she looked around. “What happened?”

He furrowed his brows at that. “A little too much to drink, I hope…” he suggested cautiously, moving towards her.

She nodded slowly, her hands coming to rest on her temples as her head began to pound.

“You okay?” He asked, moving closer.

She nodded again, but began shaking her head, suddenly scared and angry. She backed away from him. “What’s happening to me?” She asked.

He moved toward her, gripping her arms. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

She felt her gums burn and panic set in. She struggled against Matt’s hold and he pulled her in, holding her close to him.

“Y/N, calm down, you’re gonna be okay,” he said, trying to soothe her.

Her vision began to blur and as he turned away to shout for help, she saw the vein in his neck throbbing.

Her panic subsided, and she stood tall, a feeling of control washing over her followed by a thrill she didn’t recognize. She lunged, and as her teeth met his flesh she covered his mouth - his muffled screams filled her ears and her world spun.

*****

Y/N gasped, catching her breath and sitting up slowly. She was back in the bathroom. She looked around, trying to get her bearings and unsure of what she had just seen. She felt disoriented, but relieved the screaming had stopped.

Until she focused in on the pounding.

“Y/N!” The hard pounding continued and she shuffled up onto her feet. “Open the door!”

Dean.

She reached for the door and pulled, but it didn’t budge. “Dean?” She tugged harder.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice muffled through the thick wood.

She didn’t know how to answer him, pulling harder on the door still. “It’s stuck,” she called.

“Sounds like a witch problem,” she heard Damon groan, the door shaking under his strength but not moving. “What the hell happened?”

She leaned her head against the door frame and took a deep breath. “I’m not really sure. The mirror shattered, and I think I passed out...I don’t know, I saw Matt…” her breath caught and she began to panic, shaking the door handle as much as possible in an effort to get out. “Oh my god, Matt...Damon you have to find him!”

“I can smell blood, and you’re worried about Donovan?” He said dismissively.

Y/N cut him off, the worry in her voice evident. “I’m fine,” she glanced at the few cuts on her arms, bleeding lightly but nothing she couldn’t recover from. “Find Matt, he’s in trouble.”

She heard them speaking, and she could make Damon’s voice out in a harsh whisper. “I’ll find the quarterback,” he sounded annoyed, but urgent. “Call Freya, get her over here, now.”

“Y/N,” Sam’s voice came in. “What do you remember?”

She shut her eyes, letting herself remember, though she wasn’t sure if it had happened or if it was a vision. “It was like...screaming...unbearable screaming...you didn’t hear that?”

“We didn’t hear a damn thing,” Dean said. "You've been in there for ages."

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she pushed on. “And then it all stopped, only I was outside. And Matt -my friend - he asked me if I was okay, and I started to panic, and then I felt angry. So angry. And I was scared, and he came toward me, and I...I…” she started to cry, remembering the way Matt’s muffled calls for help sounded as her teeth ripped into his flesh.

“Hey, just breathe, okay?” Sam tried to calm her, hearing her voice begin to break. “Take a deep breath, we’re going to find your friend and get you out of there.”

“Move,” she heard Dean grumble before a loud thud hit the door followed by a few curses as he presumably tried and failed to break down the door.

“What’s going on back here?” She heard an unfamiliar voice ask.

“Bathroom’s out of order, lady,” Dean snapped.

She heard a disgruntled voice before Sam’s cut in once more. “I’m going to fill Freya in, see if she can meet us over here…”

“Keep me updated,” Dean mumbled.

She heard him sigh, and she could only assume they were alone. Y/N sunk down to the floor, leaning against the door.

“You okay?”

Y/N glanced again at her arms, the cuts stinging, but mostly superficial. “It was like I was there...like I killed him…”

“I’m sure your friend is fine, and you’re right here, okay? You’re right here and I’ve got you,” he pressed his hand against the wood of the door.

She sighed at that, thinking back to their earlier fight, how she had ruined everything between them.

“I’m sorry…”

She sat up at that. “What?” She shifted so her ear was against the door, making sure she heard him right.

On the other side, Dean swallowed nervously. “I shouldn’t have said what I did tonight. I was angry,” his chest tightened, and he took a deep breath, pressing forward. “I know I blew it, and I’m sorry. The truth is, Y/N…” he swallowed nervously. “The truth is you’re the one good thing I’ve got going for me, and I don’t,” he sighed, hating that he was doing this here and now, that he couldn’t see her, but he couldn’t hold it back. “I don’t want to share you. Not with Damon, or Elijah, or anyone else. I know we haven’t figured everything out yet, but I don’t want this to be over.”

Her mouth went dry as she searched for her words, but before she could reply, Sam came back. “Freya is on her way,” he said.

She heard Dean clear her throat, knowing the conversation would have to wait until later. She felt guilty that she was relieved by Sam’s presence - grateful for the time to process Dean’s words. “And Matt?” She asked.

“Damon’s taking care of it,” Dean reassured her. He shot Sam a look of concern, as if he wasn’t sure he believed his own words.

“I’ll text Stefan,” he whispered, stepping away from the door.

The unease in the pit of her stomach grew - Damon should have been back by now. “Where the hell is he?” She asked.

*****

Sam and Dean had successfully blocked off the bathroom area, moving a wet floor sign into the entryway and redirecting the wait staff under the guise of being from the township looking at a water main. They were grateful the majority of staff were teenagers, either too dumb or too lazy to care to look into things more.

They kept Y/N calm, asking her to recount the events again and again as the three of them tried to piece together what had happened until Freya had arrived. Much to Dean’s annoyance, her brother and Stefan in tow.

“What happened?” Elijah demanded, immediately aware of the scent of Y/N’s blood, taking note that at least it wasn’t fresh.

Y/N sighed heavily behind the door, still worried about Matt. “I’m fine,” she grumbled.

“You’re bleeding,” Elijah countered.

Dean stepped back, leaning against the opposite wall as Freya immediately got to work, her hands hovering above the doorway, sensing the magic keeping Y/N locked inside.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. “The mirror broke.”

“Y/N?” Freya interrupted. “It’s a simple locking spell - I can undo it.”

“Great,” Dean mumbled. “Let’s get this done.”

Freya and Elijah both turned, shooting a look of disapproval at the elder Winchester, and he could see the relation.

Freya rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the door. “Did you see anyone?”

“No…” Y/N answered, tired of answering questions and eager to be out helping find Matt who had seemingly disappeared from his shift.

“This isn’t a complicated spell,” Freya explained. “Whoever did this wasn’t a witch - at least not a well practiced one.” She flicked her wrist and the lock clicked with a pop, the door unlocking.

Y/N stood and opened the door quickly, relieved to be out. She threw her arms around Freya. “Thank you,” she said before heading towards the back exit.

Dean’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm. “Not so fast,” he growled.

“I swear, I’m fine!” She shook Dean off, but when she turned back around Elijah stood in her path. She met him with a defiant glare, but he simply raised a brow, tilting his head slightly. She let out an exasperated huff, holding up her arms. “Just a couple of cuts,” she argued. “I’ve got to find Matt,” she said impatiently. “Please.”

Elijah stepped aside at her pleading, letting her pass through.

She pressed her weight against the heavy door, bumping it with her hip to open it. She rushed out into the alley by the dumpster, where she had so vividly seen Matt attacked. And yet there was no sign of the attack, no sign of Matt, or Damon for that matter.

Elijah and the others followed her outside.

“He was right here,” Y/N searched, kicking at the few trash bags along the side that hadn’t made it into the dumpster. She peaked behind the small gate that housed the recycling bin searching for any evidence that it had been more than just a nightmare.

“Is there any chance he could have just gone home?” Sam asked.

She shook her head absently. “He had just gotten here, and Matt wouldn’t bail like that.”

“And we’re sure he’s not inside?”

Dean shook his head. “The manager said she hadn’t even seen him show up for his shift.”

“I saw him!” Y/N argued, turning to face the group.

Elijah narrowed his eyes, studying the scene (or lack thereof) before him. He tilted his head curiously, taking a step forward.

Y/N caught his movements, watching him. “What?” She asked.

Freya also stepped forward. “Brother?”

He looked towards his older sister, his expression grim and as Freya moved toward him she stopped, becoming aware of whatever it was that caught Elijah’s attention.

“What is it?” Y/N asked.

“A cloaking spell,” Freya said cautiously. She bent down, her fingertips resting on the pavement as she began to chant quietly.

They all stepped back as the area before them rippled, like an invisible wall began to falter, until the scene before them was revealed.

In front of the dumpster was a pool of blood, thick and glossy as it settled. They followed the mess, splattered up the dumpster, sticky drops oozing from the corner like molasses.

Y/N stepped forward, her hand covering her mouth as she prepared herself. “What’s in there?” She asked, her voice weak.

Sam stepped forward and glanced over the edge of the dumpster, tall enough to see inside without climbing up. He winced, slamming his eyes shut and turning away, bringing his arm up to cover his face.

“Sam?”

He ignored her, glancing at his brother. “Help me,” he said, solely focusing on what needed to be done.

Dean nodded, and he leaned over the edge of the dumpster taking in the scene that lay there. “Shit,” he mumbled.

Sam reached in, heaving up and Y/N watched as a leather clad arm - Damon’s distinctive ring on the middle finger - came into view. Dean pulled and Elijah moved to take over when they got the body up and over.

Elijah laid him on the pavement gently and Y/N rushed toward him, her heart pounding. She leaned forward, trying to find any sign of life, but his body was still.

“Y/N,” Elijah said, reaching into Damon’s chest and yanking out a sharp object, seemingly a rusted screwdriver.

She breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he’d wake up.

But her relief was short lived, as Sam and Dean pulled another body from the rubbish, lowering the limp form of Matt Donovan carefully.

Y/N let out a choked sob, quickly moving towards her friend, her knees scraping on the pavement through her jeans beneath her. She ignored the burning, instead scrambling to reach for his hands, searching for the ring that would bring him back. “Matt!” She called, her brain trying to catch up with what she was seeing. “No, no no,” she cried upon finding the Gilbert ring gone. She pressed her head to his chest, crying into his shirt before shifting to turn his neck, seeing the damage to his throat.

“What happened?” Stefan rushed towards them, dropping to check on his brother first. He turned, seeing Matt and dropping his head in sorrow as his best friend continued to cry over his corpse.

“Did I do this?” She sobbed. She leaned backwards, her back hitting the side of the dumpster and she looked at her hands, shaking in front of her, covered in blood.

“Hey,” Dean knelt in front of Y/N, pulling his face into her hands. “You did not do this, do you understand me?”

She shook her head adamantly. “I saw this,” she sobbed. “I felt this. I was there...this is my fault.” She began to cry hysterically and he pulled her into his chest, holding her tight.

“This isn’t on you. There was nothing you could’ve done, you hear me?”

Elijah watched them for a moment, and he listened to the Saturday night crowd shuffle their way out of the front entrance of the Grill - closing time was approaching. “Get her out of here,” he commanded.

Dean looked up at the vampire, nodding in understanding as he stood, scooping her up with him, grateful that Baby was just around the corner.

*****

Damon groaned, his body stiff as he sat up from the couch in the Great Room. Stefan stood over him, his arms crossed. He glanced down at his chest, pulling his shirt away from his skin. “This was my favorite shirt,” he sighed. A blood bag dropped into his lap, and he looked up, shooting Elijah a grateful look as he tore into it, taking eager gulps.

“Do you remember anything?” Stefan asked, getting straight to the point.

Damon held a finger up, telling him to wait as he sucked the blood bag dry. He licked his lips with a satisfied sigh, laying back down onto the couch. “You got any more of those?” He asked, shutting his eyes.

“Matt Donovan is dead,” Elijah stated, his patience lacking.

Damon pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m honestly surprised he lasted this long…”

“Damon,” Stefan warned.

Damon sat up, rubbing the back of his neck before looking up at his brother. “I know, okay. I know he’s dead, and now I’ve got to figure out how to tell my girlfriend that her best friend is dead and I didn’t stop it, so I know, okay?”

Elijah eyed him with disdain, frustrated at Damon’s lack of ability to see anything outside his own world, and a small one at that.

“I already called Elena,” Stefan said.

Damon shot up. “Why the hell would you do something so stupid?” He shouted. “Now she’s coming back here!”

Stefan didn’t flinch at his brother’s outburst, holding his ground. “She deserved to know.”

“Niklaus is on his way back with Caroline...reluctantly, of course,” Elijah added.

Damon shook his head in frustration. “Look, I know I wasn’t his biggest fan, so maybe I’m biased - but maybe we should wait until after we kill Empusa before dragging everyone back for a funeral which is marching them straight into a trap!”

Stefan shrugged as if it were obvious. “Matt is dead, Damon. And he’s not coming back.”

Damon sighed and walked around to the liquor cart, pouring himself a bourbon.

“While I understand the frustration and concern, I believe what Stefan is trying to say is that our friends need us,” Elijah said.

He held his glass up in a sarcastic cheers gesture. “Well the good news is, no one will need us when they’re all dead.”

Stefan sighed at his brother, figuring it was best not to feed into his antics for the time being. “What happened tonight?”

Damon shrugged. “I went to look for the quarterback. I smelled blood, but couldn’t find the source, and I turned around and next thing I know, Y/N’s stabbing me in the chest.”

“It wasn’t her” Stefan started, but his brother cut him off.

“Well aren’t you just the world’s greatest detective,” he snapped sarcastically.

Elijah cleared his throat, deep in thought. “Why would Empusa keep you alive?”

“My devastatingly handsome good looks?” Damon suggested.

“Perhaps,” Elijah noted with an eye roll. He paused. “She enjoys toying with her prey…Niklaus believed Y/N was the key to getting to us, but what if we were wrong?”

Damon sighed, exhausted. “She got to you without needing Y/N,” he scoffed.

Stefan shook his head, his own thoughts circling for an answer. “It’s a game for her. She’s not toying with us, she’s toying with Y/N. Think about it. What’s the one way to guarantee to get Y/N’s attention? To pull her out of hiding?”

Damon placed his glass down slowly, catching up with Stefan’s thinking. “Kill the love of her life…”

Elijah’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “She had the chance to kill Y/N back in New Orleans…”

“Unless she needed her in Mystic Falls,” Damon suggested.

Elijah and Stefan exchanged glances.

“She’s not safe here,” Stefan said. No sooner had he finished his thought, Elijah was gone.

*****

Y/N moved through her house in a daze. She was vaguely aware of Dean hovering, trying to make sure she was okay, but she couldn’t be bothered to answer him. She had stopped crying, the guilt she felt over Matt’s death, the regret and not telling him to leave then and there, warning him...the pain she felt at seeing him lying on the cold, hard ground next to piles of trash - it was all too much. So instead she shut down. There was a lingering sadness, but mostly she felt numb.

“Baby, listen, you didn’t do this,” Dean knelt before her once more, finishing cleaning up the scrapes on her arm. She remembered the car ride home, repeating over and over that it had been her fault. She wanted to believe him, to know she hadn’t killed her friend, but it was all too real to ignore.

She shook him off, standing slowly. “I’m going to grab a shower,” she whispered hoarsely.

Dean nodded, watching her walk up the stairs slowly, wanting to follow, to make sure she was okay - but she clearly wanted to be alone. He sighed, dropping onto the plush couch and leaning his head back. He sat thinking, and listening for any indication that she would need him.

Upstairs, Y/N stepped into the shower, exhausted. She glanced around her bathroom, tucking herself under the stream of hot water. She focused on the sounds of the drops against the tiles like a lullaby. She closed her eyes, shoving away the thoughts of the day and rested her forehead against the wall of the shower, shivering at the stark contrast of the cool surface against the warm water rushing down her back. She let her mind drift away...

She found herself in a hallway, a mysterious haze clouding her vision. She rubbed at her eyes, and realized she was back in the bunker. Strange, she thought. She hadn’t remembered coming back here.

A part of her realized it must be a dream, but she wasn’t so sure. She placed her hand along the wall, the tile cool under her touch. She studied her fingertips for a moment, confused at how real it all seemed, when she heard a noise.

“Dean?” She called out. “Sam?” She followed their voices into the war room, where she found Sam pouring through books and Dean with his feet up on the table that sat in the center of the room. They didn’t acknowledge her as she entered, instead continuing their heated debate.

“It’s a crime against humanity…” Dean grumbled.

“I like it,” Sam argued. “Besides, Y/N’s here now, she can decide.”

“Decide what?” She asked as they turned their attention to her.

“Sam here wants to order pizza.”

“Great, I’m starving.” She felt hungry suddenly, placing her hand on her stomach curiously. Could you feel hunger in a dream?

Dean shot a glare toward his younger brother. “Except he wants pineapple topping. Fruit does not belong on pizza…”

“We always get meat lovers, Dean! At least do half and half…”

They began to bicker again, but Y/N tuned them out, preoccupied with how hungry she was. She turned, leaving them to their argument, and went in search of a snack in the kitchen. She searched through the cupboards, pulling out bags of chips, and Sam’s trail mix. She set aside a bag of his kale chips with a look of disgust, and kept digging until she found a pack of beef jerky. She opened it, biting into a small piece before spitting it out. She checked the expiration date, surprised to find it was still good, and tossed it back in the cupboard.

She then moved to the fridge, her stomach grumbling. Why was she so hungry??? She tossed through the contents of the fridge frantically, growing frustrated as she grew hungrier and found everything they had to be revolting.

“You’re not gonna find what you’re looking for…”

She slammed the fridge shut, and turned to find Dean. “We need a new fridge or something,” she sighed. “Everything in there is bad.”

He shrugged. “No, it’s not.” He shook his head sadly, sighing heavily in disappointment. “Everything in you is bad.”

“Excuse me?”

He gave her a slight nod towards her feet, indicating that she should look down, and when she followed his gaze she jumped back in surprise. There was a pool of blood beneath her, leading back out into the hallway. “Dean?”

When she looked up again he was gone.

She slammed her eyes shut, breathing intentionally. “It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream,” she whispered to herself, but when she opened her eyes, the blood was still there.

She gathered her nerves and followed the trail back out into the main room, a chill running up her spine when she realized the brothers were gone. The silence that fell over her was eerie, and she moved forward cautiously.

“Hello?” She called out.

There was no answer, and she stopped when her foot caught on something large, her balance lost as she tumbled over the immovable mass beneath her. She hit the floor with a thud, blood pooling around her, soaking her clothes. She felt the dampness coating her fingers, and jumped when she realized her hands were covered. “No, no, no,” she whispered as she began to shake. She turned to see what she had fallen over, and there he was, in the thick of it, his body lifeless.

“Sam!” She screamed, pulling on the massive man, shaking him violently. “No, come on Sam, no!” She tilted his head towards her, when she saw the vicious bite marks on his neck - identical to the wounds left on Matt Donovan. The flesh was torn, blood still pouring out. “Help!” She screamed.

She continued to scream until her throat was raw, her voice coming out rough and scratchy. She screamed until she was too tired to do anything but weep, holding Sam’s face in her hands, cradling it in her lap. She began to rock back and forth, hugging him tightly and slamming her eyes shut, praying to wake up from the nightmare that felt like it would never end.

“You did this,” Dean’s voice startled her, and she looked up, eyes swollen and red. “You took my brother from me.”

She shook her head, confused. “No, I would never…”

“Look at you,” he spat. “You’re a monster.”

She laid Sam down gently, rising to her feet, and as she took a step towards Dean, he took one back. “Dean, please,” she cried.

“I should have driven that stake into your heart myself,” he said, chin held high and his jaw set in anger as he looked down on her.

She furrowed her brow. “What?” Her gums began to ache, and she reached up to touch them. As her fingertips felt the sharp point of her canines, she ran toward the bookshelf, picking up a trinket and searching the reflective surface. She could just make it out in the curve of the antique glass, but there it was. The fangs were unmistakable, and in her eyes she could see the darkness as the hunger set in.

Y/N dropped the trinket with a crash, her hands shaking as the realization of what she was sunk in. She held her hands up, covered in Sam’s blood.

What had she done?

She turned to find Dean stalking toward her, his fist white knuckled as he gripped a stake like his life depended on it.

She instinctively stepped back, but she was pressed against the shelf behind her, and too broken to fight. She pleaded, but he said nothing. His eyes were cold, fueled with hatred as he pressed into her, lifting the stake to line up with her heart.

“See you in hell,” he snarled before shoving the stake into her chest.

Y/N crashed back into reality with a jolt. Her heart raced and she took deep breaths, suddenly all too aware that the water in the shower had gone cold. She made quick work of washing up, anxious to get warm again. She shut off the shower and bundled up in her towel, wiping the fog from the mirror and studying her reflection - relieved to find, though a little worse for wear, it was her own.

She pulled the oversize towel over her shoulders after drying off her hair, taking the time to calm down and gather herself before getting dressed and heading downstairs.

*****

Dean stirred awake, surprised to find he had dozed off at all.

“Sorry…” a quiet voice whispered.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes before looking over at Y/N, towel drying her hair damp. “Shit,” he mumbled. “I must have crashed there for a minute…” he glanced at his watch, unsure of how long he had been out.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Y/N said softly.

Dean shook his head dismissing her concern. “You hungry?” He asked. She shook her head, offering him a weak smile and stepping toward him. “You okay?” He asked, swallowing as he took in her appearance. She wore pajama shorts, the kind that hugged her ass and showed off her legs, and a cami that dipped low.

She bit her lip and stood over him, her legs straddling either side of his, forcing him to lean back. He placed his hands on her hips, holding her back. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

She ignored his protests, sitting in his lap and bringing her lips to hover above his, daring him to stop her as she ground her hips down into him.

He groaned, slamming his eyes shut as he tried to gather himself. “Sweetheart, I don’t think we should be doing this right now,” he said roughly, turning his face slightly.

She brought her hand up to his cheek, coaxing him to look at her once more, his green eyes boring into hers. She had her other hand on his chest  and began to slowly inch it lower. He gripped her wrists, pausing her movements. He used his size to flip them so they were laying and she was sprawled beneath him. He pinned her hands above her head so he was in control, forcing her to stop.

Still she persisted, her hips rising to meet his, searching.

“Y/N,” he groaned.

She ignored him, instead leaning up and silencing his protests with a kiss. When he didn’t respond she dropped her head. “Don’t you want me?” She pouted.

He sighed heavily. “Not like this,” he admitted, letting her go and pulling away from her. He got up, pacing away from her as he ran his hand over his face in frustration.

She sat up, pulling her knees into her chest. “So what’s the problem?” She asked, her voice small.

He rounded on her, his patience thin. “What’s the problem?” He shouted. “Y/N every single time I try to clear my damn head, you come in here like nothing’s happened! I can’t think straight!”

She sighed, standing and moving across the room toward him. “What exactly is it you’re afraid of Dean?”

He furrowed his brows, but before he could respond she gripped his neck with a surprising amount of strength, pushing him back until his back hit the wall.

“Hmm? That she’ll never love you the way she loved Elijah?”

“Empusa,” he growled, fighting against her hold.

She grinned wickedly, her eyes growing sinister. “I know everything about her, you know. How she thinks, how she feels...would you like to know?”

“Go to hell, bitch,” he spat.

Her knee raised, connecting to his gut with force. Dean doubled over, coughing, and she side-stepped, letting him drop. “Do you know she wished you were him when you shared her bed? She’s using you, Dean.”

He groaned, flipping over onto his stomach as he began to push himself up off the floor.

“Let’s be honest, shall we?” She kicked his back, knocking him down once more with a grunt. “She could never love you. You couldn’t give her all this,” she gestured to the home they stood in. “What can you offer her?”

Dean rolled over, his foot kicking and knocking Empusa down. He moved quick, grabbing the small knife he kept in his boot and rolling on top of her. “I’ve got some moves of my own to offer, sweetheart,” he huffed and slammed the blade into her side with everything he had and she shouted in pain before flipping him over, slamming him into the coffee table.

Y/N rushed down the stairs, alerted by all the commotion. She rushed forward, grabbing the lamp from the side table and slamming it over the intruder’s head, but Empusa simply turned her attention on her, unphased.

She took a few steps back as Empusa marched forward, and she caught a glimpse of Dean’s knife jutting out from her side. She kicked out, her shin connecting with the hilt and forcing the knife deeper.

Empusa’s steps faltered, and she reached down, pulling the knife out and slamming it into Y/N’s shoulder.

Y/N yelled as the blade pressed into her flesh, and she gritted her teeth - trying to breathe through the pain. She gripped Empusa by her hair, slamming her head with all her might against the wall.

The monster pressed her palms against the wall, shoving back with all her might and sending Y/N off balance, who fell backwards into Dean as he stood back up. He caught her, righting her once more, and they stood facing off the creature before them.

Empusa grinned, relaxing her stance as she wiped at her bleeding lip.

“Would you look at that, the bitch bleeds,” Dean commented.

She laughed humorlessly, her hands moving behind her back. “It doesn’t matter. Even if you manage to kill me, you’ll never manage to save her, and that’s what you really want, Dean,” she pressed her palm against the wall, a blinding light forcing Y/N and Dean to cover their eyes.

The room went dark once more, and Empusa was gone, the only evidence she had been there was the disheveled furniture and a strange symbol in blood on the wall.

“What the hell was that?” Y/N asked, panting and holding her injured arm.

Dean moved forward, squatting to study the symbol - similar to enochian, but not one he recognized.

As they stood in the living room catching their breaths, Elijah rushed through the front door.

“What happened here?” He asked, taking in the scene before him. Y/N stood in nothing but a large t-shirt, her hair damp. He eyed her, taking in new injuries, before looking at Dean accusingly.

“Well this night keeps getting better and better,” Dean grumbled.

[severetimetravelnerd]

Hatred and Love (ft. G Dragon) Mafia AU

Part 13

You finally get to tell Jiyong what you couldn’t earlier.

(I don’t own any of the images used. All credit goes to the original owners.)

Taglist:

@unabashedturkeytreeslime​

@happiestgirlontheeastcoast​

@kwonnansi​

@aarfyie​

@suhappysuho​

If there is anyone else who would like to be tagged, you can comment or leave me a message :))

I only write on this blog on tumblr, so if you see my work on any other platform, please let me know immediately.

Now, things are coming to a close. It has appearances from Daesung, Taeyang, TOP, Mino, Hanbin and EXO (mostly Kai). This continues with the EXO storyline, but again, I have nothing against EXO :)) I love them, but I had to use someone for the plot. This chapter has a lot of Suho. Sorry, for making him kinda evil!!! I love him in real life :))) It also has a good amount of Xiumin:))

Also, I think I’m almost done with this series. There is only one chapter left after this, I think :)). Hope you enjoyed it and please do leave feedback :))) I love hearing from you!! Sorry for being a little late to upload it this time

Warnings: Violence, Death(not main character), Injury, Blood, Eventual smut, Abduction, Guns and Knives, language. Injuries to a few people here. 

————————————————————————–

God, you had missed everything about him. He was so familiar, so warm, so comforting. You could barely stop yourself from melting further into the kiss. You guys still had to get things under control. You pulled away from the kiss, equally as teary-eyed as Jiyong, looking up to beam at him, cheeks hurting from how hard you were smiling. Jiyong stared down at you, shocked. When he first felt your soft lips press against his lips, he couldn’t believe what was happening. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t think, so for once in his life, he told himself to let it be and just do what his heart told him to do, which was kiss you back. He had just wrapped his hands around you and pulled you closer when you pulled away, leaving him in shock. He stared at your smile for a second before grabbing your hands and pulling you even closer. He sounded breathless, urgent, when he said, 

“No. You don’t get to do that to me. You don’t get to kiss me like it’s the most normal thing in the world and not something that I’ve been longing for, and pull away like that.”

 He held your face, his thumb lightly brushing against your lip. He leaned in for another kiss, but you lightly pushed him away. You gave him a half overjoyed and half pained smile and said,

 “Jiyong, I promise we can talk and sort everything out in a bit, but right now, we have to focus.”

  He didn’t respond, just sighing and getting up. For a minute there, when he got up facing away from you and didn’t respond to what you said, you felt devastated. He was mad at you. Maybe the two of you didn’t want the same things. A wave of tears threatened to follow. But then he dusted his hands and extended one to you, pulling you up. He had the brightest smile on his face when he said, 

“You promised, right?"

 You had to stop yourself from staring at him, and you turned away jerkily, your eyes landing on Jongin. You felt your throat constrict a little. You looked around again. Your apartment was a mess, but you could deal with that later. Jongin, and unfortunately, the bleeding Joonmyeon on the floor were bigger worries. Voice tight, you said,

 “Jiyong, we need to get these two to a hospital.” 

Jiyong nodded. 

“You’re right, love, but we can’t take them to a hospital without people asking questions.”

 Your cheeks flushed and your heart started beating faster when you heard him call you “love”, but you managed to get your point across.

 “Call Hanbin then. He has a friend who owns a hospital. We can take them there.” 

Jiyong got out his phone to tell Hanbin to do that. You went out to your balcony and blankly stared at the city around you. You had no idea what to expect when you first got there, but whatever happened, with all its ups and downs, you didn’t regret a minute of it. You were so engrossed in just thinking back to your time with Jiyong that you didn’t even hear him follow you out. He stood next to you and leaned on the railings.

 “Hanbin will be here in 5 minutes and then, we can follow him to the hospital.” 

You nodded, turning to look at Jongin. The blood around his head dried up and it didn’t look like he lost too much blood, but seeing him in that state was just awful. You couldn’t even do anything to help him because you were scared you would make things worse. You shuddered a little and wrapped your arms around yourself a little tighter. You turned to look at Jiyong. He was also staring at Jongin, looking dismayed that he had ended up like that. He had come to care for Jongin, no matter how annoying he could be. He had become part of the family. But then again, so had most of EXO.

You stared at him, getting lost in your thoughts. The way his hair fell in his eyes, soft and floppy, sticking up cutely every now and then. The way his sinewy arms tensed glaring at Joonmyeon. The way you could see a little bit of his tattoo under both his sleeve and his collar. The way his adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped. The way his face was shining from the sweat. The intense look in his eyes. He was definitely planning something. You looked down at his hands, wanting to see that familiar smiley tattoo and those long, graceful fingers when you realised they were bleeding. His hands were bleeding. You didn’t know why. And that realisation made you tear up. You weren’t with him for all this while. He was hurt. It could have been worse. And you wouldn’t have known. He would have been in pain and you wouldn’t have known. Your hands were shaky when they reached out to hold his, gently lifting them up to your lips. So was your voice.

 “Ji, what happened to your hands?”

 His eyes softened, his anger at Joonmyeon disappearing when he saw you. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. He gently lifted your hands and brought his lips down to kiss them.

 “They got cut earlier today, when I was running here. I tripped on the concrete.”

 It really wasn’t the worst thing in the world, and you had seen him with way more injuries, but somehow, when he said that, your lower lips started trembling. You bit down on it to keep yourself from crying. You had to hold it together. Jiyong needed to sort this mess out. You couldn’t bother him with this in the middle of it all. You would have continued down that road if Jiyong didn’t pull you in even closer, so that your face was resting against his chest. He gently kissed the top of your head, patting your back comfortingly. 

“It’s okay Y/N. It’s over. You’re okay. It’s all going to be okay.” 

And he held your shaking figure in his arms like that, letting you soak through his shirt with all the tears, gently patting your back until you calmed down enough to snuggle in even closer into his arms.

 An hour later, you were at the hospital, in Jongin’s room. Hanbin was pacing up and down nervously, worried beyond measure for his new-ish hyung. Jiyong was sitting next to you. You just watched Jongin, grateful that his arm was okay and his head injury was just a light cut. Joonmyeon was in far worse shape. A bullet in his foot, a light concussion and some bruising from the punches Jiyong threw at him. Minseok was with him. He wanted to be the first person to talk to Joonmyeon, because he wanted to make him see sense. All the other EXO members except for Sehun and Yixing were outside in the waiting room. They were worried about their hyung, because they knew it was a minor miracle that Jiyong didn’t kill him. They were definitely mad at him for hurting Jongin and you, because some of them had grown close to you, but he was still their leader and their hyung. They owed him a shot at forgiveness. They needed him to agree to the merger. It was all better that way.

You stared at Jongin and slipped your hand into his, squeezing it lightly and whispering, 

“Come on Jongin. Open your eyes. Prove to me that you’re okay and then I’ll be able to rest.”

 before looking down.

 Jiyong’s grip on your other hand tightened a little, his thumb reassuringly stroking the back of your hand. Hanbin was freaking out.

 “Fuck. Something seems wrong hyung. I don’t think he’s comfortable. Should I call the nurse? You know what? I think I’m just going to go ahead and ask the doctor to check on him again. I’ll also call the head nurse. I feel like he didn’t take a proper look at hyung because-” 

All of you froze when you heard Jongin’s rather croaky voice saying, 

“Hanbin, relax. I’m fine.”

 He opened his eyes, cracking a slight smile at the rest of you before struggling to sit up. You were about to go help him, but Jiyong was quicker. He was standing by his side, helping him up with one hand and adjusting the pillows beneath him with the other. Jongin stared at him in surprise. Jiyong hyung never really does that kind of thing for other people. Jiyong caught his look, blushed a little before deciding to address it.

 “What? I was worried about you.”

 Jongin’s smile grew even wider. Hanbin leaned on the wall behind Jongin, carefully watching him for any signs of distress. He knew Jongin hyung was stupid enough to pretend like it didn’t hurt. Jiyong came and sat back down next to you while Jongin got comfy. Jongin finally looked around and cracked a proper grin.

 “Don’t worry, I swear I’m fine! I was more worried about Y/N. I knew Joonmyeon hyung was out to get her, not me, and I wasn’t sure whether she’d be able to handle an unsteady, angry Joonmyeon hyung. How did you manage to hold him off Y/N?” 

He trailed off towards the end of the sentence, not wanting to upset you. You gave him a rather shaky smile, not wanting to get into everything that happened and said, 

“I just managed.” 

Jongin got the hint and didn’t probe any further, but Jiyong just stared at you in concern. Your hands had the slightest of quivers, and your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. He clenched his fists, knuckles white. You were scared because of Joonmyeon, that fucker. His gaze turned deadly. He wasn’t going to let him get away with that. Jongin quickly changed the topic, noticing your slight signs of fear and Jiyong hyung’s obvious anger, but even through all of that, with you laughing at Jongin’s ridiculous jokes and Hanbin’s snarky comments, Jiyong couldn’t join in. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

 Joonmyeon slowly opened his eyes, feeling unusually drowsy and looked around. It was a bright, well-lit room with an oddly distinctive smell. He sniffed. It was the smell of disinfectant. It was that damn smell. The smell of a hospital. Joonmyeon scrunched up his face in confusion. How’d he get to a hospital? EXO never took people to hospitals. And then, it all came back. You’d think he’d feel anger or rage at how Y/N shot him in the foot, and how she gave him a concussion, but more than anything else, he was filled by an overwhelming amount of guilt. Jongin. He had to be okay. Joonmyeon had been extra careful to make sure he didn’t injure him too badly. He looked around, trying to find more information about Jongin only to find Minseok hyung sitting there, staring at him. No matter how angry he was that the rest of them left to merge with Jiyong, Joonmyeon could never be angry with Minseok hyung. He could barely even look at his hyung because of how bad he felt for hurting Jongin. He knew Minseok wasn’t going to let that go. But all Minseok did was look him over once and hand him a glass of water, waiting for him to drink the whole thing before he finally spoke.

 “How are you feeling Joonmyeon?”

 Joonmeyon looked at him, a little unsure and then replied in a subdued, muted voice. 

“I feel okay. My head hurts and I can’t feel my foot because of the medication, but otherwise I’m okay.”

 Minseok nodded. 

“Okay. Get some rest Joonmyeon. Take it easy for a while.” 

Joonmyeon stared at him, unable to believe himself.

 “You’re not going to say anything about what I did? You? Who was always so vocal about hating my decisions?”

 Miseok’s eyes harden for a second and then he sighs.

 “I will. I’m just overwhelmed because you’re still alive. You know it’s a miracle Jiyong didn’t kill you, right?” 

Joonmyeon’s jaw tightened. That damn woman had stopped Jiyong from killing him, and now, he was feeling angry and guilty about it. Minseok continued. 

“We had a deal with Jiyong. He was supposed to not harm you, Yixing or Sehun. And he wouldn’t have harmed you until you decided to try to kill Y/N. And after that, honestly? We wouldn’t have been able to blame him for that.” 

Minseok’s jaw tightened a little.

 “She was nice to all of us, and you know what she means to Jongin.”

 Minseok’s eyes turned positively murderous. 

“And then there is what you did to Jongin.”

 Joonmyeon winced. The room turned silent again. Joonmyeon finally took a deep breath and said, 

“Hyung. Call for a meeting. With everyone. Now. As soon as Jongin and I can both participate. The most important part is Y/N has to be there.”

 Minseok’s eyebrows shot up, alarmed. 

“Why does she have to be there?” 

Joonmyeon looked at him, eyes determined.

 “She is going to be the deciding factor for whether we completely merge with Jiyong.”

 You sat down on the cold metal chair outside Jongin’s room, sighing. The nurse had kicked you out saying Jongin needed to rest. You subconsciously wrapped your arms around yourself a little tighter, face tense because you were worried. Jiyong had disappeared a while ago to make some calls, leaving you there, and if you were being completely honest, the moment he left the room, you became a little sadder. God, you had missed him. You wanted to talk to him. Explain things. Tell him that you loved him. That you couldn’t stand not being around him. That something was so very wrong when he wasn’t around. You hoped desperately that he still felt the same way, chewing on your lips nervously. You were so nervous that you didn’t even notice the same man you were thinking of slide into the seat beside you and watch you with loving, satisfied eyes. You only realised he was there when he offered you a cup of hot lemon tea, nonchalantly sipping on his own. He looked up from his cup with an adorable smile. 

“Your favourite.” 

You smiled and took the cup, sipping on it and letting the warmth of it spread through your tired body. Jiyong spoke up again, trying but failing to keep his tone light.

 “You said we could talk and figure things out?”

 You stared at his face. He was smiling, but you could see the small signs of nervousness. The way he couldn’t keep his legs still. The way he nervously tugged at his earrings. You missed them. You nodded as a reply to Jiyong’s question.

 “Yeah, I did say that.” 

Jiyong gave you a look that was an odd mixture of exasperation and adoration. 

“So, can we talk now Y/N?” 

You looked up at him and smiled again.

 “Yeah sure. Do you want to go first or should I?” 

You paused for Jiyong’s reply for less than a second before scratching that plan. Suddenly, all your nervous tics were visible to him. 

“Fuck it. Ji, when I left, I left because I didn’t want to be treated that way. I still don’t. but I never left because I didn’t love you. I thought I would be happier away from a place where I was being used as a tool. I wasn’t. I missed you. I missed you enough to drive me mad. I was upset. I was hurt. It was partly because I hated myself for doing what I did, because I couldn’t get your hurt face out of my mind. I felt like I had left because I wanted to prove a point even though I knew deep down that you never meant a word of what you said then. I also hated you a little, although it isn’t fair. I hated that you didn’t stop me. That you let me go so easily. I hated that you thought it was better for you to make a decision for me where you thought I would be living a better life when all I couldn’t see a life without you in it. I want you back. I want us back.” 

You looked up at him throughout your entire explanation, eyes glossy with earnest tears. Jiyong stared right back at you with an increasingly loving gaze, and after you finished, looking at him shyly, suddenly nervous, he lifted your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist, gently moulding your palm to hold his face. Taking a look at the one face that got him through anything, he gathered enough courage to tell you how he felt. Taking a deep breath, he began. 

“Y/N. I absolutely do not deserve you in my life. All I’ve done is brought you pain. I should never have spoken to you that way. I should have kept my promise. I should have made sure that you never saw the mafia side of me. It was all my fault that you went alone that night, and came back unconscious, in Hanbin’s arms. I put you in danger. And I couldn’t live with myself for it. I wanted to let you go, hoping that maybe if you got the better life you deserve, it would lessen my pain of having to let you go. Y/N, you know I’m a selfish guy, but for the first time in my life, I thought I should do the right thing and let you go. So, I did. And it was my worst regret. I should have begged. I should have apologised. But I never should have made that decision for you. Y/N, my love, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for putting you through this. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to keep you safe. I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise to you. I’m sorry I’m not the kind of man you deserve. I’m sorry I’m not giving you the life you deserve. But I’m going to be selfish and ask you to stay with me, because I know things will be different this time. I can change. I have changed. It’s not your duty or your job to make me a better person, and neither have you ever asked me to change, but I know I’ve changed simply because I want to be someone you’re proud of. I-” 

You cut him off, with a few tears streaming down your face. 

“Jiyong, I have never not been proud of you. And please don’t say I deserve better, or a better life. I want you. I want to be a part of your life. And I want you to be a part of mine. I could never want anyone else like this, no matter how seemingly perfect they are. Kwon Jiyong, I love you.” 

You smiled a stunning, warm smile through your tears. 

“And I regret not telling you that sooner.” 

Jiyong had turned slightly glossy eyed, and as he looked down at your earnest face, cheeks flushed, eyes teary and trusting, with not an ounce of fear in them, he knew he made the right decision. He pulled you close, pressing you flush against his chest and swore under his breath.

 “God, Y/N L/N. I love you too.”

 And leaned down to kiss those beautiful, soft lips that he had missed.

The moment you felt his lips against you with that ever so familiar scent of his aftershave, cologne and something that was just essentially him, you pressed back into the kiss, deepening it. It was slow, it was sensual. It was perfect. You could feel the apologies and the love through it. You pressed yourself even closer into him and gently nuzzled up to him, slowly kissing him, relishing every second of it. His arms wrapped around your waist as he slowly pulled away, smiling at you. You leaned up and pressed a light kiss against his jaw. 

“I love you Jiyong. I love you, I love you, I love you!”

 And you laughed a laugh of pure glee, happy that you finally told him. Smiling back at you and carefully brushing the hair out of your face, Jiyong kissed the tip of your nose and said,

 “Good, cause I love you too.”

 You settled into his arms, cuddling up to him, just sinking into the familiarity of it all while he wrapped his arms around you and held you, relishing the feeling of having you back in his arms. Jiyong heard a muffled voice speak against his chest.

 “Ji, did you quit smoking?”

 He smiled, resisting the urge to pull you onto his lap and kiss you again. 

“I did. How did you know?” 

He heard your slightly sheepish voice reply saying,

 “You smell different.” 

Jiyong grinned. He missed these small beautiful moments with you. The two of you sat like that for a while before you got a call from Hanbin. You sat up, worried that something had happened.

 “What’s wrong Hanbin?”

 Hanbin’s voice decidedly tight, replied. 

“Y/N, you and hyung need to get here. We’re having a meeting with EXO, and Joonmyeon says you have to be there.”

[bestillmyslashyheart]

part one || part two

They ended up needing the secondary location so it was a good thing Alex was conscious. Alex, or Jenna, Michael wasn’t exactly sure because he’d been a little out of it at the time, had spotted signs that the Indian School was compromised so Alex had diverted Jenna to his secondary location. Turns out it was his uncle’s house, not too far from the old school. 

Alex insisted it was safe, despite his father’s current proximity. No one wanted to argue with him so they parked the car as far away as they dared and trudged the last bit to the small house. It was surprisingly spacious inside, with one great room and a bedroom and bathroom. 

“We don’t have any acetone,” Liz pointed out as she and Isobel eased Max into a chair. “Our supply is at the lab.”

“There should be a bag under the sink in the bathroom,” Alex pointed to the appropriate door. “Should be stocked with basic medical supplies, toiletries, and nail polish remover.” Rosa grabbed it and dumped its contents onto the coffee table. Inside were two more bottles of acetone; one went to Isobel and Max, the other to Michael. 

“Maria?” Kyle crouched down next to her. She hadn’t complained once the entire journey but she had to be hurting. Max was able to heal the more life threatening aspects of her injury but he couldn’t heal all of it. 

“Got an painkillers?” She asked weakly. 

Liz fished the bottle she’d taken from Alex’s house out of her pocket and tossed it across the room. Kyle caught it in the air and quickly dumped out the correct dosage. “Here,” he handed it over. “Can I check the wound?” She nodded and leaned back for him to hike up her shirt and expose her abdomen. There was still a fair amount of blood on it but none of it was fresh. The puckered wound on her stomach was very fresh, though. Michael couldn’t look away from it, remembering the moment he’d seen the bullet enter her body and she fell to the ground. Michael would’ve sworn his heart stopped beating right then if Alex hadn’t gone down a moment later. And then his heart did stop. While Michael had been next to Maria when she was shot, Alex had been across the room and out of his reach. He hadn’t known then that Alex was fine, mostly, he’d just seen him hit the ground hard and not move for a moment. In that moment, Michael didn’t breathe and his heart didn’t beat.

Maria sucked in a breath when Kyle prodded the wound and Michael was abruptly brought back to the present. Dragging his eyes away from Maria he checked on Max and Isobel but both of them were okay. Max was as exhausted as he was and Isobel was cut up from the glass and a bullet graze but they’d gotten in here from the car mostly under their own power and that was all he could really ask for right now. It was certainly more than he’d managed, relying heavily on Jenna to get from point A to point B. Next, his eyes slid to Liz and Rosa. Liz was fussing over Max and checking on Maria but otherwise fine. Rosa looked a bit like she’d gone a few rounds with a weed wacker, her face and neck scratched up. She’d been sitting next to the window when it exploded in gunfire and had gotten an entire face full of glass for her troubles. He already knew Jenna was fine which only left...

Alex met his eyes evenly the moment Michael stopped trying to look away. He had a hand on his right knee, almost protectively. His jeans were cut at the knee, the bottom of the denim still soaked in his blood. Out of the crude short pant leg, Alex’s leg was unblemished. Michael didn’t exactly remember healing Alex but he’d clearly done so. And he’d done so with Alex’s blessing, though the look on Alex’s face gave him pause. Michael held Alex’s gaze for a while, both enjoying the fact that Alex was alive and well enough to glare at him and trying to decipher the message in Alex’s eyes. 

He didn’t get very far when his stomach decided to rebel against his extended power usage and acetone intake. Michael barely had time to clamp a hand over his mouth before he was running for the bathroom. He had enough presence of mind to close the door behind him but only just barely. After a few minutes emptying his stomach contents, Michael rinsed his mouth out and attempted to rejoin the group. 

“Guerin,” Alex’s voice came from his right. Michael turned to see the bedroom door open and Alex on the bed. He didn’t say anything else but Michael didn’t even look at the others as he answered the silent beckons. Eyes burned into his back as he shut the door behind him.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked. It was silent out in the other room so Michael tried to keep his voice low enough not to be overheard. A single door could only block so much sound. “I’m sorry for what I said back there.” Alex froze. “It was cruel of me to force that decision on you but I couldn’t just let you die.”

“I wasn’t going to die,” Alex scoffed. “Loose a little too much blood maybe but the cut wasn’t enough to kill me.”

Tell that to Michael’s heart when Alex went still and pale in his arms. He’d been breathing, Michael knew, but it the sight of his unmoving body was enough to terrify Michael for life. “What should I have done?”

“Respected my choice,” Alex replied immediately.

“You said it was okay,” Michael reminded him. He’d waited until Alex said yes to touch him but he honestly couldn’t say what he would’ve done if Alex had passed out before he could. Part of him would like to think he’d do as Kyle clearly intended and respect his choices but it was a small part. Michael knew himself better than to think he could sit there and watch Alex bleed and do nothing. 

“I said it was okay because you manipulated me,” Alex’s voice was hard. “You framed it-”

“I framed it as it was,” Michael cut him off. “It was harsh, yes, and not what you wanted to hear, yeah, but I didn’t lie to you. We clearly needed you awake and coherent to get us here and away from your dad. If you’d been unconscious when we got to the lab what would we have done?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Alex barely spoke above a whisper, clearly aware of their nearby audience but he might as well have shouted for the impact his words had. Because, yeah, Michael did know.

He swallowed hard, ignoring the lingering taste of bile in his mouth. “You protect me, Alex,” he said quietly. “You always have even when I didn’t realize or appreciate it. You’re a self sacrificing moron who puts everyone above himself and I knew if I reminded you that our li- my life,” he amended softly, “relied on you letting me touch you, you would.”

“Regardless of how much I didn’t want you to.”

Michael flinched. “I know it’s a big deal to you but I’ve-”

“Things are different now,” Alex reminded him. “You made them different. You don’t get to keep the allowances I granted you when you tell me you don’t want to see me anymore, that being near me is too painful for you.” Alex sucked in a shuddering breath, his perfect control slipping just a bit. “I allowed you to touch my leg because I loved you and I trusted you with every part of me-”

“And now you don’t,” Michael finished for him, sadly.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Alex warned, eyes flashing. Michael felt himself standing straighter in response. “It hasn’t changed, not for me,” Michael’s brain short circuited and he almost missed Alex’s next words, “but it’s hard to put that kind of trust in you again when I know you’re going to throw it back in face the next time you need to hurt someone.”

“No,” Michael denied instantly. He pushed away from the door and stood in front of Alex. “I would never do that, Alex. Never.”

“No?” Alex clearly didn’t believe him. “You’ve thrown everything else in my face, why not that?”

“I-” Michael didn’t know what to say. “I wasn’t trying to throw anything in your face,” Alex scoffed, “I just- I needed space and I need you to let me have it.”

“You could’ve just asked.”

“I did! And you were still there!”

Alex leaned forward. “Which one of us kept showing up at the other’s house? Which one of us kept asking the other for help? Which one of us wouldn’t leave the other alone despite very publicly moving on?” Alex shook his head. “You asked for space and I tried to give it to you but you kept showing up. And then you’d have to get in a parting shot every time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Alex sighed. “But I don’t want you to be sorry. I just want you to stop. Michael, I will give you whatever you need to be happy. You want space? I’ll stay away. You want to move on? I will champion your relationship so long as you’re happy. You want my help with something? I’m there. But for the love of God, stop being such an asshole about it.”

“I will,” Michael promised. “And I am sorry. I needed someone to hurt because it let me stop hurting for a just a minute and you just- you just took it and didn’t hit back and I don’t know maybe I was waiting for you to lose it? To get in my face and remind me how we ended up here?” Michael sagged against the wall, his new found energy leaving him. “You didn’t deserve that, though. Not any of it.”

“No I didn’t. But like I said, I’m here for whatever you need. If you need a punching bag so you don’t lose it on anyone else, I was happy to be that.”

“Dammit, Alex, I don’t want you to be happy for me to hurt you.”

Alex didn’t say anything. He just watched as Michael slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground. “Why’d you heal me?” 

“What the hell kind of question is that?”

“An honest one.” Alex stared at him evenly. “The past few months, we haven’t exactly been- well, anything, I guess. I was hoping we could be friends but I’m not sure we’ve managed it. You won’t come close to me let alone touch me so why volunteer to patch me up? Why argue with me when I said no? And why, when you were tapped out, did you try and heal me?”

He looked genuinely bewildered and Michael couldn’t stand it. “Because I love you.” Alex flinched backwards in surprise. “Dammit, Alex, I avoid you because if I don’t I don’t know what I’ll do. I lose control of myself when you’re around but we were never good for each other so I needed some distance. That doesn’t mean I didn’t love you. That doesn’t mean I have ever not loved you.”

Neither one of them said anything. Silence filled the room, heavy with everything they’d never been able to say to each other.

“Why is it that it took my father trying to kill us for us to talk about this?”

“I don’t know,” Michael sighed. “We’ve tried?”

“Not really,” Alex denied. “When was the last time we had an actual conversation?”

“The day I found out you knew my big secret,” Michael answered right away. “And you walked away.” Again.

Alex sighed. “You show a guy the spaceship you’re building to try and leave the planet and you’re surprised when he needs a minute?”

Michael looked at him sharply. “You left because the reality of what I am scared you.”

Alex glared. “I left because you told me you’d spent a decade trying to get home. To your planet. Your planet which is not this one!” His voice rose at the end. “If I ever made you feel anything like how I felt looking at the ship, I’m sorry. Just- looking at it and seeing how hard you’d worked and how long you’d been working on it to try and leave,” he shook his head. “I couldn’t do it.” Alex laughed once. “I have the missing piece by the way. I had it with me that day because I brought it over to give to you but then you told me what it was for and I couldn’t. I couldn’t let you go like that.”

“Keep it,” Michael said after a beat. Alex looked at him in surprise. “There’s nothing to back to and even if there was my home is here. Keep the damn piece.”

“Michael-”

“That’s the second time,” Michael cut him off.

“The second time?”

“The second time you’ve called me Michael.” Alex still looked confused. “You haven’t called me that since-” since just before his last deployment. They’d had a fight when Alex called to tell him he was being shipped out. Even at the time, Michael had questioned how and why he was bothering to fight with someone he couldn’t see, hadn’t really seen in months, but he was terrified of Alex going back a third time and it had manifested in anger. Michael had never been sure what they’d fought about but they didn’t speak again until Alex came home and he’d been Guerin ever since.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said softly. “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t.

“No, it’s not.”

“Okay. It’s not.” Michael took a deep breath. “How’s your leg?” 

“It’s sore,” Alex admitted, nonplussed by the change in topic. Michael’s name wasn’t nearly as sensitive an issue as Alex’s leg but they were similar enough. “Even if I had a working prosthetic I don’t think I could wear it right now. Or for a while,” he conceded. He looked down at it.

“Your uncle got any clothes here?” Michael asked. After the events of earlier, he knew Alex had to hate the sight of his leg uncovered. 

Alex shook his head. “He’s only here maybe once a year so he doesn’t really keep anything in the drawers.” He nodded at the door. “There should be a few changes of clothes in one of the duffel bags, though.” 

Michael staggered to his feet without a word. “Gimme a second.” He pulled the door open and closed it quickly behind him. Seven heads abruptly looked away and tried to appear busy. Michael ignored them in favor of grabbing the two bags from where they’d dropped them by the front door when they’d come in.

“Michael?” Maria called softly before Michael could open the bedroom door again. Michael looked back at her. “Is he okay?” Michael nodded. “Are you okay?”

Michael frowned. “I’m fine.” Maria looked like she was going to say something else but Michael pushed the door open and shut the others out behind him. 

Alex looked up from the bed. “That was quick.”

“It’s a small house.” He dropped both bags in front of Alex and let him rifle through them.

“I assumed they’d want to talk to you.” He glanced up at Michael, a glimmer of a grin on his face.

“They’re not particularly subtle are they?” Michael sat back in his previous spot.

“They’re nosy as hell,” Alex agreed. “But they mean well.” He pulled a pair of sweatpants out of the bag with a faint ‘aha’. Michael closed both bags and respectfully looked away while Alex changed his pants. “We’re burning those,” he announced seconds before his jeans hit the floor.

“Fine by me.” Michael had half a mind to see if he could explode denim as well as Isobel exploded crystal. 

“Okay,” Alex said after a lot of shuffling. Michael turned back around to find Alex tying the right leg into a knot. When he was done, his shoulders lost a good deal of the tension Michael hadn’t noticed he was carrying. “Michael,” he looked up and met Michael’s eyes. “I let you touch me because you’ve done it before. If this situation ever comes up again, then I am giving you permission to touch my leg as needed because you have done it before. I don’t want anyone else touching it.”

Michael nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of Alex’s words. “Okay. But Kyle-”

“No,” Alex cut him off. “I- I can’t explain it and I’m not expecting you to understand it but I need you to respect it, okay? Unless I am in a hospital, I do no want anyone touching my leg except for you. And even then, I would prefer if it was only as an absolute last resort.”

“Okay,” he said again. “I understand.”

Another bit of tension eased out of Alex. “Thank you.”

Silence fell again, lighter this time.

“You look good,” Alex said quietly. Michael scoffed, not even having to look down at himself to know he was a mess. “I mean it. You aren’t carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders anymore. You’re lighter and-” his lips quirked in a pale imitation of a smile, “you’re happy. It’s good to see. Maria’s been good for you.”

“It wasn’t Maria,” Michael replied.

“You don’t need to lie to me, Guerin.” He closed his eyes briefly. “Sorry. Michael.”

Michael made some kind of noise, he wasn’t sure what. “It wasn’t and I’m not. Being with Maria was great, she’s great. But it was me.” He’d had a few long conversations with Isobel and even Liz about it because he’d thought the same thing. “I’ve been doing better because of me.” Alex’s smile looked a little more genuine. “I care about Maria, a lot. But we were never meant to last.”

Alex looked surprised. “What?”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “You know we broke up.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her, Michael,” Alex replied. “You care too much about her to let her go.”

“I care about her, yeah, but not in the way she deserves. We’re better now. As friends.”

“Michael...”

“I love you,” Michael said. It was easier than he’d thought. He’d always imagined the words as having a weight to them and maybe they did. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, wasn’t even the first time he’d said it to Alex, but it felt more. He shrugged helplessly. “We may be bad for each other. And maybe that will never change, maybe we’ll never be able to have anything real. But I still love you. And I will always love you. That’s not going to change.”

“I love you too,” Alex replied softly. “But-”

“But,” Michael nodded gravely. 

A sharp knock on the door stopped either one of them from saying anything. Whoever it was waited a second before cracking the door open. Jenna peered around the edge. “Well if I’d bet money on what was going on in here I would’ve lost,” she looked disdainfully at their careful distance and fully clothed bodies. Alex rolled his eyes at her.

“What?”

“We have a visitor.”

Both of them scrambled to their feet, Michael having to steady Alex when he moved too quickly. Alex grabbed his crutch and led Michael out of the room. 

“Flint?” Alex stopped short, his body blocking the doorway and thus Michael. “What are you doing here?”

“He know you’re here?” Flint asked. It seemed like a dumb question to Michael. If Jesse knew they were there they’d be dead.

“Just because you never talk to Mom doesn’t mean I don’t,” Alex replied. Right. Because this was their mom’s brother’s house. 

Flint raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply. “Dad’s going to figure it out sooner or later.”

Alex scoffed. “Dad likes to pretend Mom’s family doesn’t exist.”

“He found the School,” Flint pointed out.

“You-”

“Oh no,” Flint shook his head. “Grandmother would whip my ass if I took soldiers into that building. Like hell I took Dad there.”

Michael was fairly certain Alex’s grandmother was dead. “You shot me,” Alex accused.

Flint rolled his eyes. “I shot your metal leg,” he protested. “That hardly counts.”

“It hurt!” Alex confessed.

“I could have shot the other one,” Flint told him. Michael took a step forward but Alex didn’t budge so he just bumped into him. Flint raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t seem all that worried. “Dad’s got new funding and a larger unit. Even if he did forget this place existed, he’ll find you soon enough. You need to get out of here.”

“Why are you helping us?” Rosa asked.

Flint glanced at her then did a visible double take. “Rosa?” Rosa rolled her eyes and didn’t deign to answer. “What the hell, Alex?”

“Long story,” Alex brushed him off. “Answer her question.”

Flint stared hard at his brother. “You got a choice, I didn’t.” Michael didn’t understand but from the way Alex stiffened, he did. “Now I am.”

Alex didn’t reply but after a moment he gave a sharp nod. “Thank you.”

Flint looked around the room. “You all look like crap.”

“Some assholes shot up a diner we were in,” Rosa reminded him. 

“And yet here you all are.”

“You killed Meredith Aires,” Alex said quietly.

Flint flinched. “That was a mistake.”

“That was a woman’s life,” Alex corrected. “She was a good person and you shot her because Dad told you to.”

“I didn’t shoot her!” Flint shouted. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I tried to make sure everyone got out alive. I tried, Alex. But I’m one guy and I can’t control everything.” He opened his eyes and gazed evenly at Alex. “You’ve got a few hours maybe. You can stay here and rest or you can run and try and get a head’s start. But either way you don’t have that much time.”

“Thanks for the head’s up,” Michael said. “Now get out.”

Flint glared at him but he did leave when Alex didn’t argue.

“We should go now,” Jenna advised. 

“We need to rest,” Kyle argued. “We’re all hurt.”

“We can switch off drivers, let everyone else sleep,” Jenna shook her head. “He’s got military resources. Staying here is suicide.”

“She’s right,” Alex chimed in before anyone else could argue. “Pack up. We’re leaving.”

“And going where?” Isobel asked. “We can’t go back to Roswell, right?”

“No,” Alex agreed. “We can never go back to Roswell.”

[starlightinhumanform]

Breaking Point

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Loceit (could be interpreted as platonic or romantic)

Summary: Sometimes being a light side just does’t cut it. After a particularly aggravating argument, Logan begins… changing. (Logan centric angst fic with guest appearances of most of the others,,,, but mostly Janus).

Warnings: Negativity/Coldness/Miscommunications Throughout, Mild Language Throughout, Some Mentions of Injury/Illness Used as Metaphors

Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

A/N: This was written for the wonderful Spring Fling event here on tumblr! It was so much fun and I can’t wait to participate again! I know I’ve been very inactive lately and I’m very sorry for that (mental illness can be a real kicker lmao), but I’m trying to get back into my groove of writing and posting!! Stay safe and healthy. I love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Link   Fic Masterpost    Fic Request Info

Logan was not a stranger to emotion. Despite popular belief, he experienced them like any other side. The difference was his ability to tamp them down, keep them from clouding his logic; it was an ability he prided himself on. Sure, sometimes his anger got the better of him when the others were being far too ridiculous. But for the most part, he was clean, calculated, cool.

Right now, though, his head was pounding. Virgil was shouting hoarsely and Roman was yelling back even louder. Patton just whimpered, trying to get the two to stop fighting but failing miserably as he flinched back from both of their raised voices. Thomas stood in the middle of it all with glazed eyes.

And Logan, what was he doing? Standing to the side. Being completely useless, it seemed. He pressed his fingers against his temples and tried to massage away the pain. His efforts once again failed and he turned his attention back to the situation.

Thomas had to choose whether or not to go to a Broadway audition and wanted to consult with his sides to get their opinions on the opportunity. Unfortunately his plan had backfired and now the choice was even less clear. It was a debate, they were trying to make a decision— Logan should have been leading the entire thing. Instead, he had been shoved to the side as Virgil and Roman turned the discussion into a fight.

“It’s too big of a risk! If Thomas fails at this, he may never audition again. Think about how that would hurt Patton. Think about how it could ruin his whole career,” Virgil hissed.

Roman answered too clearly, over-pronouncing his words as he spat them out like they tasted as bitter as his tone, “You’re suffocating me. You’re keeping Thomas from achieving his dreams. Your worries are simply too much. If anything is going to ruin his career, it’s going to be you.”

Virgil raised his eyebrows and gave a cold laugh, “Oh, I’m sorry? I thought we agreed it was my job to protect Thomas? So why don’t you just back the hell up and remember your place.”

“My place? And where exactly would that be?”

“Safety comes before your stupid fantasies.”

“This isn’t even about safety! This is about you being a coward!”

The room went quiet. Quiet, not calm. It was like the moments of silent after a lightning strike when everyone holds their breath, waiting for the roar of thunder. Logan needed to interject before things got even worse and this was his best opportunity to do so.

He cleared his throat, “If you two would like to pause this illogical arguing for a moment, I would like to make a few points.”

All eyes turned on him. He was nearly taken aback by the amount of anger in both Virgil and Roman’s gazes, suddenly turned on him instead of each other. It burned against his skin as they both glared at him. Patton tried to give him a smile but it was far weaker than usual. Thomas’ eyes were the worst— dazed from all the yelling, confused and torn apart from his aspects disagreeing so violently. Logan felt like he had failed; failed them all, but especially Thomas. It was his job to keep order, to weigh the pros and cons, to unravel problems, to make things clear. And when the others needed him the most, he had let it all fall into the hands’ of chaos.

“I just think there are better ways to make this decision. You two have been yelling each other for over half an hour and it’s gotten nowhere.”

“Yeah, because he refuses to admit that he’s wrong!” Roman interrupted.

Logan gritted his teeth, “Please try to restrain yourself from talking over me.”

Virgil was the one to break in this time, “Logan, maybe this isn’t the type of argument that you belong in.”

“Not the- not the type of argument I belong in?” Logan could almost laugh, “This is the exact sort of discussion I need to be included in because otherwise we end up in a mess like this!”

“Logan,” Virgil growled, “I don’t think you’re understanding what’s going on here. This is an issue me and Roman need to settle. No matter what that means.”

“No matter what that means?? Are you even listening to yourself? That’s the sort of talking that causes disaster!”

“No, Virgil’s right about one thing,” Logan turned his attention to Roman as he was interrupted once again, “This is between the two of us. Don’t get yourself involved.”

“If I don’t get involved, you’re going to tear Thomas apart trying to get your ways!” Logan could feel his temper slipping away from him just as his control of the situation was slipping through his fingers. These idiots had their heads so far up their asses, they couldn’t even see the damage they were doing to everyone else.

“Logan!” Roman snapped his name to get his attention, “Maybe you should just go.”

He scoffed, “Go? You really think you can solve this problem by yourselves?”

“Go.”

Logan glanced at the stairwell where Virgil had snarled a singular syllable at him, “Excuse me?”

“He said to go,” Roman was glaring at him, “And, in this case, I agree with him.”

Logan’s mouth fell open. It was ridiculous. They needed him, but apparently they just couldn’t see it. They needed him, but they didn’t want him. He shook his head. A laugh was rising up his throat but he couldn’t figure out what was so funny.

He looked around the room, “You really want me to go? Fine then.”

Thomas and Patton both seemed distressed but said nothing to stop him. Roman and Virgil didn’t have to say anything; the anger boiling behind both of their stares communicated plenty.

And that was all he needed. Logan sunk out of the room without another word.

He reached the mindspace in a matter of seconds, appearing in the dining room. The laugh that had been trapped in his throat bubbled over and crashed to the floor as it morphed into a cry. He clapped a hand over his mouth as giggles mixed with sobs and spilled past his fingers, filling the quiet room with hiccuping whimpers. It was just too much for him to wrap his mind around. His beautiful, perfect mind. And somehow they had managed to reduced it to this— a wreck, an absolute mess, emotions crashing into each other and spilling over onto his face so he could do little more than grip the back of a chair until his knuckles were white and he couldn’t even see through the ocean in his eyes.

His skin felt hot as the tears rolled over his cheekbones and directly onto the floor. He was not a stranger to emotion, but this— whatever the hell “this” was— felt brand new. New like new boots, the type that leave your skin blistered and red and raw. His body was shaking and his stomach turned and he was sure that if he sobbed any harder he might start retching.

He felt so vulnerable; he was a scar that had been scratched at so many times it had finally ripped open and started bleeding again.

Logan was angry. Angrier than he had been in years. He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t they see that? Why wouldn’t they let him help? But more importantly, why couldn’t he help? Was he useless? Was he a tool that had no purpose, tossed aside by the others like a spare screw that didn’t fit anywhere?

“Logan?”

His head shot up, back straightening and squaring up in under a second. Janus was standing on the other side of the room like he had frozen in the middle of his movements. His eyebrows were woven together in what seemed like concern.

“You don’t look ok?” His expression was a painting of confusion.

Logan rubbed at his eyes from beneath his glasses, “I- I assure you, I’m perfectly fine.”

Janus just laughed, silky and self-satisfied as always but maybe a little softer than usual, “Lying’s kind of my thing, remember, Logan? You look... great.”

Logan let his head hang, not even trying to keep up appearances now that Janus had called him out. He glared at the other side from over the rim of his glasses, “Can I help you? Or are you done ridiculing me?”

Janus took a couple hesitant steps forward, tilting his head to the side like he was absolutely fascinated by Logan. He began speaking slowly but it was obvious from his intense stare that his focus was very far from the words leaving his mouth, “Ridiculing? Oh dear, no, that was not my intention. What’s the matter? Something must be incredibly wrong to have put you in such a state.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Logan snarled, “Am I not allowed to act as irrationally as the rest of you? Is sanity expected only of me? Maybe I’m tired of it! Do you understand how exhausting it is to carry the weight of responsibility with no one to lend a hand? In fact you all fight against me, pushing me downhill and spiraling Thomas further and further away from stability. Well, maybe I’m tired of it. Maybe I’m so damn tired of yelling until my voice is hoarse, just because I’m trying to look out for the well being of everyone else only to be discounted because ‘it’s not fun’ or because I couldn’t possibly understand, being the cold and unfeeling robot that I am. I am sick of it!”

“Logan, I’m going to need you to calm down.”

Logan blinked back into the present.

Janus was standing in front of him, hands raised to hold Logan’s face. Logan was startled to find his cheeks damp once again with tears beneath Janus’ quivering fingers. Janus was staring at him with a combination of fascination and terror.

“Logan do you know what’s happening?” Janus’ voice shook nearly as hard as his hands as he drew them back to his chest.

Logan could feel his forehead crease as he stared back at Janus, “What do you mean?”

Janus laughed but it had lost its honeyed qualities; just a humorless, sharp exhale, “Look around you.”

He raised his head at Janus’ cue, taking in the room around him. A glass that had left on the table was now broken into pieces. The glass of picture frames hung on the wall now lay shattered on the carpet. Items scattered on shelfs throughout had tipped over or rolled onto the floor.

Logan’s mouth fell open, “Did I— How— What— Did I do that?”

Janus nodded his head slowly like he wasn’t sure to believe it either, “The whole mindspace started shaking.”

“What does this mean?” Logan reached out slowly to pick up a shard of the glass. His hands trembled as he studied the piece, turning it between his fingers as if he could find an answer in its angular edges.

“Well, sometimes when a dark side is distressed enough, they can negatively affect the environment around them,” Janus had been speaking in slow, almost broken segments as if he had been constructing the sentence word by word, choosing carefully and cautiously. Now, though, he started rushing his words out like they burned his tongue, “You know, like the screaming thing Remus does or when Virgil makes the whole room go dark, that sort of thing.”

“Wait. Janus, you said ‘dark side.’ And don’t try to lie to me, I have a perfect memory and I know what you said.”

Janus winced and tried for a smile, “Yes, well...”

Logan arched one of his eyebrows, “You are aware that I’m not a dark side, yes? And unlike Virgil, I was never once in my existence a dark side.”

“No, no I know that,” He clasped and unclasped his hands together serval times as if the awkward movement could fill the even more awkward silence, “I’m implying that you might be becoming one?”

“Oh, please,” Logan scoffed, “Is that even possible? And how have I even done anything to deserve the title of being ‘dark’?”

Janus mirrored Logan’s raised brow, “Oh, and I’ve earned such a label? The point is, you’re starting to act more and more like us. Whether or not any of us are actually deserve that title is a debate for another day.”

Logan studied the face in front of him. Janus was a master of deception— of course he was— but in this moment he seemed completely open, completely genuine. And if Janus was being honest... well, that could be a bad thing.

He opened his mouth to speak but the words were slow to come to his tongue, “So, assuming this hypothetical you’ve proposed, how could this happen? How is such a shift even a possibility?”

Janus gave another humorless laugh but at least he didn’t sound terrified this time, “I really don’t have the answer to that one.”

Logan stared done at the floor, eyes roaming the pattern of the carpet but his mind incredibly far away. Was that possible? Could a side go “bad”? More importantly, could he go bad? Was he bad? Had he failed Thomas so much, hurt the others so much, provided so little use yet so much ill-will that—

“If anyone has the answers, it’s going to be you.”

Janus’ voice broke through Logan’s thoughts, “What?”

Janus pulled out two chairs from underneath the table and faced them towards each other. He took a seat in one and pointed at the other, “Something is obviously wrong. Tell me what’s going on.”

Logan stumbled into the chair, stunned by the commanding note in Janus’ tone. He sat down and stared blankly across at the other side, unsure of where to even start. He pursed his lips for a moment, “Why does it matter?”

“Because you knocked my favourite mug off of its shelf and I need answers,” Janus rolled his eyes, “If what I think is happening is happening, that’s a huge change that could affect everyone— including Thomas. Now stop avoiding the question.”

Logan glared down at his hands gripping each other in his lap. His vocabulary had abandoned him. This simply was not a familiar situation to him. He shared facts, advice, outside information; but feelings, his subjective truth? That stayed locked away.

“Let’s start with why you’re crying, ok?” Janus’ voice was gentle but his question was still very clearly an instruction.

Logan jerked his head up as he realized there were tears running down his face. Again. He cursed under his breath as he rubbed them away, “I don’t even know. I guess I’m just not used to doing this, this sharing of emotions.”

Janus nodded, “And why aren’t you with the others? It sounds like there’s quite an argument going on up there. You usually jump right into the fray.”

“I don’t know,” Logan pinched his nose and tried to ignore the burning ache in his chest. It was strange, the emotion so raw and intense that it had the effect of a physical wound. It was like the tissue of his rib cage was being torn apart, “I tried to join in, to try and add at least a little reason to the discussion... but they refused to listen.”

“Logan, have they ever listened you about anything?”

He let his head fall back down to avoid looking at Janus, “Not really. I can’t help but think I’ve failed Thomas.”

Janus placed his hand on Logan’s shoulder, “No, no that’s not what I meant. I just wanted to know if the others took your advice.”

Logan raised his gaze to make eye contact with Janus, “Well, sometimes.”

“But do you have to work to get them to even hear you?”

Logan laughed, “Oh, yeah.”

“And to they ever listen to you about you? Do they even ask?”

“Why would they?” Logan paused, “Wait, should they?”

Janus stared at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, pity swimming in his eyes, “I think I see the problem. I think your negative interactions with the others is causing you to turn into a dark side. It’s almost like a defense mechanism or something.”

“But my interactions with the others haven’t been negative. They can be frustrating, yes, but they’re the closest things to friends that I would ever have. At the very least, they are my companions. Right?”

Janus grimaced, “From what you were saying about ten seconds ago, their treatment of you hasn’t exactly been positive. I’m not say they’re not your friends, just that... maybe they don’t act like it as much as they should. They don’t seem value you or what you have to say.”

“But I need them to,” Logan spoke slowly, deep in thought, “How else am I supposed to help Thomas, to fulfill my purpose?”

Janus said nothing and Logan continued he train of thought, “I guess it makes perfect sense for me to do what’s necessary to be heard. I can’t protect Thomas from their violent irrationality if they don’t listen to me. I guess this is just the natural course of action.”

Janus seemed hesitant as he nodded, “I mean... yes, I guess so.”

“Besides—,” Logan shrugged, “—maybe being a dark side isn’t so bad.”

“What do you mean?”

Logan smirked, “Sometimes you need to raise your voice to be heard; if I need to scare the others a little to cut through the chaos, then so be it. And it seems that I’ve been given the perfect tool to do so.”

“Logan, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea... ”

But Janus’ voice was already fading away as Logan rose back into the argument. He had been ignored for the last time. Never again would he be brushed to the side for being the cold outcast. They would listen to him— whether they liked it or not.

Logan was not a stranger to emotion. And right now, he was smiling. Grinning, in fact— ear to ear, power flickering in his eyes. He was the voice of reason and no longer would he be an accessory to their foolishness.

If you want to be added to my Sanders Sides fic taglist, just send an ask or reply to this post :p 

~ @phan-fander @abi-beehive @fandomfan315 @cas-is-a-hunter @reggieleigh07 @endless-rain-of-words @vicdehart @im-actually-ok @softnic @catolicabuena @icequeenoriginal ~

[clownsgobeepbeep]

Basically the next stuff that happens in my story that’s long dead

I believe that last thing I posted was some memories of Missy and Stripes when they were much much young, and that Stripes in the future timeline comes home to a bloody mess

As it turns out Ace and Ferry’s triplets are missing and surprise, surprise, they have been taken away by Missy. The kids feel somewhat lied to thanks to Missy who convinced them that Ferry and Ace hated her for no reason and prevented her from ever meeting her grandchildren. The one who is mostly attached to her is Bingo, because she has always felt that her spider-like/dark abilities have been repressed and finally she can relate to somebody who is also family.

Missy discreetly threatens Ace and Ferry, saying that she’ll eat up the triplets if they refuse to cooperate. Long story short, Ace has to take her to the D’Vitt mansion because he’s trusted. Once there, Missy rids of him and begins her bullshit since she has grown in power thanks to Risus. In the end, she finds Carol who she ends up kidnapping after badly injuring, in other words, Caroline eventually bleeds out.

With Ferry, who has been forced to stay with the triplets so that she didn’t run off to ask for help, Nalia and Decla visit to help break them all out of the lair. Bingo is very hesitant, but Decla convinces her and it’s emotional and stuff. Ferry takes the kids to safety and talks with the other clowns such as Jelly, warning them more about Missy who already knows she and the triplets are out. 

Back with Ula and Schrader who is somewhat over his existential crisis, they (along with Basil and Flora) go back to their dimension where they are met up with Cantarella.

Honestly, I’m just so tired of this so I’ll just bullshit the deets.

She leads them over to Jelly’s park again where they also see the band boys(everyone else is safe, hurrah). Unfortunately, the guys aren’t being very nice because they’re actually being used as puppets under Risus’ control. Iiiiiit’s fight time. Nobody can help because Risus has literally created a force field that prohibits anyone else from going in or out. Risus is using the boys’ internalized anger and jealousy/envy and using it as fuel to kill Ula and Schrader.

The boys try to beat them up and at one point the twins have Schrader down while Dante is choking Ula(remember that one picture from a long time ago?). However, Ula makes him snap out of it by singing his favorite song that they love to jam to together: Dancing Queen.

Dante snaps out of it, and so he helps break the twins out of it too.

Long story short, the baddies are quite pissy about it and they come out to play. Big fight ensues, oh no.

Basil and Flora help out, but they are weakened more and more thanks to Cantarella who is bringing out Schrader’s self consciousness and doubts, constantly reminding him that he just won’t end up with Ula.

At the same time, Missy is really taking down the kids who can’t do much for themselves while Ula is being chased by the nasty Ryder who has the audacity to make some nasty remarks. In an effort to make things better, Ula finds the chance to give Schrader a passionate kiss that boosts his confidence for just a bit.

With that, Basil and Flora find some strength and push Missy off of themselves. However, Cantarella intervenes and grabs Ula by the hair, dragging her away from everyone to finally kill her.

Cantarella is extremely strong and Ula can’t get out of her hold, so she comes up with only one thing since nobody else can help her: she transforms her arm into a blade and cuts off her own hair.

Cantarella is shook as Ula runs away, finding a spot to hide and conceal her cries of pain before Schrader manages to get away from Ryder and he holds her to help. Unbeknownst to them, Robyn and Rayden pick up the bloodied hair and keep it safe in their hiding spot by freezing it.

More fighting ensues and basically Cantarella’s insults towards Schrader are so bad + she reminds Ula that she’s already got a boyfriend who she has to prove her loyalty to that Flora fades away. Soon enough, Basil follows through, but he does so in Ula’s arms and he clutches her hand, actually smiling through the pain and telling her that no matter her decision, they will always love her.

Goood, that’s so terrible. I’ve ruined Basil.

In an anger, Ula grabs Flora’s basket(which did not disappear) and she calls upon Twoey(who she is told is the plant she has been growing ever since she was 10) and the plant buddy helps out in taking down everyone. Cantarella manages to rip through the vines and such, fighting the entire time. She even manages to land a powerful blow to Schrader’s head, not killing him but instead managing to finally deafen him. She then receives some degradation from Missy. In the process, some things about Ryder are spilled(a.k.a. what he attempted to do to Jelly, killing Ula at a very young age, etc.) and Cantarella finally realizes that maybe her parents aren’t such cool people after all.

Before making the escape of the century, Cantarella helps out a bit and even manages to ward off a very surprised Risus. 

Ryder and Missy are overpowered and have nobody else to help them, but Ryder still has some strength in him to try and attack the pair. However, Ula stands her ground and warmly smiles at him before speaking forgiveness. Ryder laughs at this and lunges once again, but he stops himself when he feels a weird sensation. Everybody sees as Ryder’s body begins to literally crack, light pouring right through before he basically explodes. 

With this explosion of light, Missy is blinded and is crawling her way trying to help herself. However, surprise surprise...Stripes has entered the chat. In an anger, he lands the final blow on Missy(by using Basil’s knife that has yet to disappear ‘cause of reasons...), and Missy is finally killed. 

Going back to Ryder who has technically died, Ula finds the blackened spot with a few lights. She gathers them up, realizing that a few had rolled away to one of the broken down stores selling “Garden Bud” toys. One of the light actually landed on top of one of the dolls, giving Ula an idea.

Timejump to the past(a.k.a. current times), Ula is in the park with her siblings. Davey is taking a nap and Cordelia is playing with her before they’re approached by somebody, and he introduces himself as Rowan. 

Rowan tells her that she might have heard of him because she’s good friends with his brother and sister, Basil and Flora. Ula is excited and basically becomes friends with him, especially as Rowan(while holding back tears, knowing what has happened in the future) says that they both love Ula very much.

Before they can talk anymore, Ula is called and she has to go home. She parts from Rowan who finally lets out his emotions while hiding behind some bushes and trees, but he feels a tap on his shoulder.

He looks up and, to his surprise, he sees Basil. The two share a warm embrace, Basil then leaving a hand on Rowan’s shoulder as they still go about their original plan: it’s now Rowan’s turn to watch over Ula, especially with a certain creep lurking around...

Any questions???

I literally just bullshitted that and probably forgot to include some parts, so ask if you’re confused. This story is shit, I know.

[teacup-crow]

do you hear what i hear?

Hey  @are-you-sure-its-me-you-see ! I’m your ZR Secret Santa! Thanks @runnerzero for organising!

It’s the first Midwinter/holiday party back at Abel since the events of Season 5, and Five and Sam are dealing with things sort of not really well at all.

Can you tell I’ve nearly finished S5 and am slightly too scared to end it because I want everyone to be okay? 😂 You said you did like some 5am and a bit of drama, so it’s a little angsty! I promise a happy ending, though. I also apologise for the first person, and hope it isn’t too cringey.

CW: blood + death mentioned

Spoilers up to the first half of ZRS5 at least (I haven’t played the last episode yet so probably a bit non-canonical)

Merry Christmas! Love Beb :)

It’s the first Midwinter dinner for a long time, actually.

Things have changed in Abel. We’ve lost so many people. Some quietly slipped away in the night, some were violently dragged from this world, kicking and screaming for every last ragged breath. The playground we all worked so hard to build became yet another burial pit.

But things go on, somehow. Our losses won’t define us. We can’t let them. We repeat the words over and over: maybe that will make them stick.

Snow blankets the roof of the farmhouse, muting the talk and laughter inside. Every last speck of Ian’s sliminess has been scrubbed from the building, and candles cover every spare surface that isn’t Janine’s huge oak table. Cameo is telling some long, over the top story, one arm still in a sling where a soldier shattered it with the butt of a gun. Nadia’s mouth turns up at the corners, even threatens a smile. Jack and Gene, back for the party, are pulling pranks like little kids - salt in water, custard balanced on the doorframe, the lot. People are eating quickly and carefully, lining their pockets with morsels of food no matter how many times Janine tells them they don’t need to.

And outside, no headstones, but mounds of earth where one day trees might grow. We did those earlier, said our goodbyes, planted flowers and talked and sang and now we’ve all moved on. That part of our lives is neatly boxed away. We live to fight another day.

I’m sitting not far from the farmhouse windows, in Archie’s shadow. She holds an apple in her left hand and a chicken under her right arm.

You should go inside, Five! They’re opening presents! I love presents!

“A few more minutes, okay?”

You’ll catch your death is what I’d say if you were mine, Sara Smith adds. I feel her tuck a hair behind my ear, and shiver. Point proven.

Oh look! Little Sara got booties! Oh they’re so tiny! They’re very purple, but I think we can forgive that.

“Five?” Sam is silhouetted in the golden light of the doorway. “You coming in?”

I shake my head. He closes the door, walks up and sits beside me, draping a coat and an arm over my shoulders.

“Didn’t think you were. Do you want to talk about it?”

I shrug, leaning into his chest.

“Are you sure? Because… because I think I do. But we don’t have to. We can just sit here. Whatever you want, okay?”

No matter how many times I try to piece Abel back to how it was, I can’t do it. I squint and I can see the square where Carina did her first cartwheel, Molly desperately trying to copy her, all chubby toddler arms and legs, but then it’s the same square where Owen got shot and shot and shot and the images meld and blur and drown in blood until all I can think to say is-

“Out. I need to get out. Just for tonight. Please.”

I know Sam probably wants more than anything to go back inside rather than freeze to death in a zombie infested forest, but he smiles anyway.

“Yeah. We can do that.”

***

We leave Tom festooned in party hats and happily playing with the comms rig. Crowded dinners aren’t really his thing yet, either.

Sam watches from the bottom with a stopwatch as I pound up and down the hill, not stopping for breath, up, turn, down, repeat. Can’t think if you don’t breathe. Can’t think if your lungs are burning, crackling. Lactic acid spitting at my legs. I push through harder, faster.

“Five? Five? I think you might want to- FIVE!”

I go sprawling on the icy snow, the pain biting into my hands grounding me for a moment as Sam tears towards me. “You okay? You all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding!”

I hadn’t noticed. I roll onto my back, picking some of the gravel out of my hands. It’s not so bad, although it looks dramatic. My own blood isn’t jarring. I know it well enough.

Sam collapses down next to me, and we’re suddenly both gazing at the same stars, trying to stop our hearts from hammering. I know he’s going to talk, and I won’t be able to find the right words. I stare at my hands instead of the sky.

“Y’know, sometimes I’m walking around and around the training circuit with Sara, trying to get her to sleep, and I think how could I have done it, Five? How could… how could we have brought a baby into a world like this? Why did I ever think it was a good idea?”

“Things were different.”

I told them not to at the time. My heart soared when they said it and I struck it down with my head.

I’m not going to say I told you so.

“Things were always on a knife’s edge.” His voice catches. “I keep a brave face but I can’t stop thinking that we’re never, ever going to be safe again. There’s always going to be someone. So we won this time. There’s always going to be a next time, and one day…”

“One day, there won’t be,” I try.

“I know you don’t believe that, or you wouldn’t be out here. You wouldn’t be hearing them as much as you have been.”

Archie and Sara Smith and even Moonchild are quiet, pensive, waiting on the edge of my mind to add something but coming up short.

Sam sits up, rummaging through his rucksack for a first aid kit. He takes my hand, and I hiss at the dabs of antiseptic. “But what I do know is this. We might not have tomorrow, but we do have today. Maxine says today is the only thing we can trust. Today we’re safe. We’re together. Today we are winning. Just for today, we can let it be Midwinter, Hanukkah, Christmas Eve and New Year all rolled into one. Not the future. Not the past. Now.”

“Sam, Runner Five,” my headset crackles into life, and I pull it off so we can both listen in. “Something weird at your nine O’clock. I’d get moving.”

“Something weird?” I manage, turning on the mic.

“Zombie weird, but the sound of the movement isn’t quite right. It’s hard to…”

“Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh shitting hell!” Sam stows the first aid kit, pulls me up.

“What do you see? My visibility is poor. Do you need backup? Shall I get Jane?”

“Are those zombies on, on, on-“

Tom calls it right as we do, seconds before the first one whistles past. “Skis! Aha, that’s what the noise is! Zombies on skis! Skiing zombies!”

“Surely nobody started the zombie apocalypse skiing downhill?! How did these guys even get here?”

“You worry about running now, Yao, think about the how’s and why’s later!” Tom’s voice becomes more Commander-like as the whooshing noises ramp up. “Forward. Turn right, go, go, go.”

We run clumsily, pulling each other along, trying not to slip again on the ice. But the zombies are flying by too fast to be a threat to us, their roars and growls muffled by the speed of the skis. 

“If this is someone’s… idea of a joke… it isn’t… very… funny!”

“It is a little funny, Sam. Reminds me of a time I was in Canada and-“

“Don’t… don’t… you absolutely do not have a past experience that was like this!”

***

“All right, they’ve mostly landed in a tangled mess at the bottom, but they’re going to intercept you when you get there. Best bet is to split up and each take a different route back to the gates. That should be enough to confuse them.”

“We’ve only got the one headset,” I pass it over to Sam. “You have it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Course. See you back in ten, okay?”

“Race you!” He replies, almost laughing at himself, and is swallowed by the darkness. “I need the head start!”

I’m alone. All I can hear is the crunch of ice and the moans of the crumpled horde. For once, there’s not a single voice to guide me. Running is usually enough to block out everything else, but I can’t stop thinking about them slipping away from me again. I’m alone, I’m completely alone, and I can’t breathe, and I almost run directly into the gates.

He isn’t here.

It’s stupid to panic. I’m faster. Of course I’m faster, I’ve been a runner for years. This is what I do. Every inch of me wants to go and find him

 He isn’t here in five minutes. 

Everything’s shaking.

I don’t know what to do. Did he get lost? Kidnapped? Do I look for him? What do I do when there’s nobody to tell me where to go?

“Why are none of you speaking to me!”

Moonchild whispers in the back of my head. You know I only pop up when you’re in imminent danger. It’s not like we have control over these things. Anyway. He’s right there. You’re only in danger of looking crazy. He can’t know you’re crazy.

Sam is staring at me, and I realise I must look even madder than I did earlier. Tears are running down my face, and I’ve run my fingers through my hair so much it’s standing up on end. He’s the only one who knows about the voices.

He definitely already knows I’m crazy.

“Five, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

It’s not his fault. Chin up. We’re proud of you.

It will be all good again. Always sunshine after rain! Big brave smiles, yes?

I take a long breath. He’s here. He’s still here. Solid. Real. He wraps his arms around me.

“Sam. I really thought we’d… I’m so scared that… I don’t want you to end up just another voice in my head.”

Just a voice in your head, Runner Five? Nah, I’m so much more than they are. Our connection runs so much deeper, y’know?

“Oh, shut up,” I mutter as Moonchild pouts.

“I can’t make any promises; nor can you. None of us can. But I have a crazy amount to live for. We’ve got this far, haven’t we? Who’s to say we haven’t another Midwinter in us?”

“... I’ll drink to that.”

“Let’s get inside first. It’s so cold out here, and I want to see what Jody made for Sara.”

“Purple booties. Archie semi-approves.”

“Five, hearing stuff is one thing, but if you tell me the ghosts give you creepy powers now-“

“We were looking in the windows!” I’m indignant, and he grins.

“That makes more sense. Come on, I don’t want to miss any more of this.”

I let him pull me into the tremulous joy of the farmhouse at last, leaving the voices of the dead behind in the snow for now.

[futurewriter2000]

Opposite Numbers - pt. 5

XX

It was cold. Cold and dark. Your fingertips were touching something- wood? Why did you feel wood underneath you? Where were you? You opened your eyes but it was still dark, the only light coming from the crack underneath the door. What door? Your arms tried to push you up but there was only pain in your stomach, ribs and mostly everywhere. It hurt, so you just laid there, trying to recall what had happened.

‘Voices, flash, darkness.’ you repeated in your mind over and over again, trying to search the darkest corners of your mind for a memory. Your hands pressed themselves against the wooden floor, your arm strength tried its best to push you up and with so much pain in your body, you were finally able to sit. The light that shone through the crack didn’t help much to help you figure out where you were. You lifted your arm to try and find the light switch but the moment your hand moved above your shoulder, pain stabbed your hip once again and you let out a groan. You felt like crying. There was everything coming to that point where you just knew you were about to cry.

‘But not today.’ you told yourself. Yes, it’s pain. Yes, it stabs and aches and hurts. Yes, you want to cry but guess what? You are not made of fragile bones. You are made of stones and stones don’t break.

Gritting your teeth, you pulled yourself together yet your legs could barely hold your weight. It felt like you haven’t walked in weeks but you still managed to help yourself with a shelf that appeared to be on your right.

“Shelf?” you wondered, moving your arms around the room. It was small and cramped with many objects. You knew exactly where you were. You were in a small cabinet, where usually the lost objects go to. You reached for the doorknob and tried to open it, but the door didn’t budge. “You have to be serious?” you groaned and looked around the darkness. Your hands tapped your robes for your wand but there was no wand with you.

There was no other solution than to look for the light switch. By now, you got so used to the pain that when it stabbed and scorched, you gritted your teeth and moved your hands on the wall until you felt something resembling a light switch shape underneath your hand.

And there was light. There was so much light your left shadow started to hurt and you closed your eyes before opening them slowly so they could adjust to the light.

If this was lost and found object room, then there has to be a wand somewhere here, couldn’t there. But who would ever be so reckless to lose a- “Wand?” you furrowed your eyebrows at the pack of wands on the second shelf. Apparently, a lot of students lose their wands. You picked the one that resembled yours. It didn’t feel right when you touched it and when you used it to unlock the door, it felt more foreign than ever. It took you four tries to get the spell correctly but when you did, you finally opened the door.

Morning light. Brighter and more powerful than the one you left behind. What time must it be? Perhaps five am in the morning? Maybe six?

Merlin, you just wanted to go to bed. Everything hurt and the more you limped towards your goal, the more adrenalin started to fade in your body. Your whole body was sore but it was still functioning and you were soon to enter your common room.

The next thing you knew you were standing next to your bed but you felt dirty, sleeping- if you could call it that- waking on a dirty wooden floor. So instead of just crawling into your bed, you took your towel and fresh clothes and went to the bathroom.

Boiling waterdrops were hitting your face, neck, shoulders, back, breasts, arms and legs. The shampoo from your hair moved down your back and legs. You looked down and you could see dirt- dark grey dirt and blood. There were bruises covering your legs with dark blue colour, purple shape spreading all over your right side of the upper body.

“Fuck.” was all you said when you noticed it. You felt the swollen flesh underneath your skin. It was numb, just like the flesh under every bruise. You walked out of the bath and wrapped a towel around your hip so that your breasts were exposed.

There you were. Bruised, beaten, defeated. There was even a thick line on your cheekbone. This one was more reddish than the other lines and shapes on your body.

There was something wrong? - Why couldn’t you cry now? When you woke up it was the first thing you wanted to do and now... now all you want to do is forget something had happened and go to sleep.

“(y/n)!” someone knocked on the door and you shot your head towards it. You knew that voice. It was Angelica’s, your roommate's.

“Yeah?” you replied with a raspy voice.

“Oh my God! You’re back! Are you okay?!” she shouted through the door and you looked yourself in the mirror. Bruises, marks, cuts...

“Yeah, I’m fine.” you replied and grabbed the clothes on the sink. “Give me a minute. I just need to get dressed.” and you heard some mumbles coming from the other side but the sound of your clothes being dragged onto your body overruled it. You twisted your hair into a towel and unlocked the door. Slowly opening it you found your four roommates staring at you.

“Oh my God!” Angelica burst into your arms, leaning her whole weight on you that it felt like your ribs were cracking all over again.

You gritted your teeth, trying to not let out a sound of pain.

“Where were you?” another roommate, Silvia, asked as Angelica let go of you.

“And what happened to you?” Angelica put her hands on your cheeks and brushed her thumbs on it. “Where did you get this cut?”

‘I’ve been beaten and locked in a lost and found cabinet.’ you thought.

“To be honest, I can’t remember.” you put Angelica’s hands away and moved passed them.

“You’ve been gone for three days- 41 hours to be specific and you’re telling me you can’t remember.”

‘41 hours?’ you stopped at the foot of your bed but still managed to put your dirty clothes in a bag and move to your nightstand.

“Can we talk about this later? I’m really beat and just want to go to sleep.” you uncovered the bed and was about to lay down.

“Hell no. You need to go to the hospital wing!” Silvia stormed over but you were already in bed.

“I’m fine.” you mumbled.

“Look at you?! What happened?! Tell us!” she demanded but you were already asleep. “(Y/N)?” she asked and kept glaring at you.

Were you asleep?

“She’s looking pale, Silvi.” Angelica ran to you and put her hand on your forehead. “And she’s burning up.” she panicked and looked at the others. “Go get the professor! Now!”

A few of the roommates left but Silvia and Angelica stayed with you. “(y/n), sweetie. Wake up.” Silvia kept moving your wet hair from your forehead. “Wake up, (y/n). Please...”

---

“We fixed the internal bleeding but the bruises and scars will have to heal by themselves.” a voice echoed in your ears, waking up your brain. “It was enough that she lasted for 41 hours. That much pain- it’s hard to handle but looks like you have one strong daughter.” you could see the figure talking. You could match the voice with a face. He was young, dark haired-

“Dad?” your eyes moved to the more familiar figure. Your voice was weak, barely coming out without sounding raspy. Your father’s eyes darted towards you and he was quickly by your side.

“Oh, sweetie.” he kissed the back of your hand and pressed it against his cheek. “You scared me.”

“I’m fine.” you simpered and he let out a small laugh.

“Once a stubborn child, always a stubborn child.” he smiled and you mirrored his expression.

“Where’s mum?”

“She’s on her way. She stopped by the house to get your documents but she’s coming.” he reassured, kissing your hand one more time.

“Hello Miss (y/l/n).” the Healer spoke and walked to your side. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

He smiled and lit the pocket light. You shut your eyes immediately, feeling strong pain in your right and left shadow. “Clearly not.” he put the light in his pocket and pulled himself a chair. His hands lifted your arm and he looked at you with his gorgeous brown eyes. “I will remove my hand and you will hold your arm up like this as long as you can. Alright?”

“Yes.” you replied and kept your arm like this, feeling like a fool.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Stupid.” you looked at him and smiled, showing him you were only joking. “I feel fine.”

“You keep saying that but I don’t know if I believe you.” He smiled and wrote something on the paper.

But then you felt it. The pain and you couldn’t help nor stop what happened next. It got dark again.

It didn’t take you long before you gained back your conscience but when you did, he was standing above you and looking at your eyes. “(y/n).” he said softly and you let out a small uh-huh.

“What happened?” your father cut in.

“Appears that her Basal Ganglia, the part of her brain that is responsible for her muscles, is either a bit dysfunctioning from 41 hours of not receiving any messages from the muscles or-” he stopped, glancing at you and your father.

“Or what?” you cut in before your father.

“Or it’s damaged.” he sighed and you felt your heart somehow squeeze in your chest.

“What does that mean?” you spoke before your father could say it.

“It means that it might still work but you won’t have much control of your muscles as you used to. Slower reflexes, not managing to lift heavy objects or flinching...”

“But- but I’m a wizard. How will I use my wand without knowing if it’s going to be okay or if it’s going to fall from my hand during a spell?” you started panicking, pleading the handsome Healer for him to tell you a cure or something to fix this.

“Until we do some more tests on it, I can’t reassure you anything but if you tell me what had happened, maybe I’ll understand better.” he sat back on the chair but you only glanced at your father and quickly at the doctor, shaking your head.

“I don’t know.” you lied and looked away.

The Healer looked up at your father and sighed. “Mr. (y/l/n), would you mind if I asked you to bring your daughter a glass of water. It’s important for her to drink a lot of liquid.”

Your father, worried, nodded and quickly left.

“Why do I need to drink a lot of liquid?” you furrowed your eyes.

“Stay hydrated.” he winked and put away the papers.

“You wanted to get rid of him.” you said and he leaned back on his chair.

“I thought you wouldn’t want him to know about your sexual activity.” he looked at you seriously and you immediately blushed.

“You thought right.” you buried yourself in the softness in the bed and he only chuckled.

“Do not worry. This is confidential. If you do not want them to know, you don’t have to tell me and so don’t I. You are 18 years old, legally an adult.” he smiled and you returned the smile. “Have you had a sexual relationship?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you on the pill?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” he checked something on the papers. “It’s good to know if we decide to give you medicine. Some cures can mess with the concentration pills. So it’s better if we know.” he nodded and you simpered. “Now.” he put the pen away as well. “What really happened?”

“I told you. I don’t know.” you lied one more time but there was something about him. The look in his eyes that wasn’t pity or forceful exactly. There was a soft feeling and that same soft feeling made you feel a bit guilty lying to the Healer.

“I saw how you looked at your father. You think that whatever you say, he will feel ashamed- or you would feel ashamed but you can tell me. If you tell me, I can understand your health better.”

There it was. That smile. It held the same power as the eyes.

He understood, so why were you still holding back?

“I don’t remember much. I was walking and I heard these mumbles and laughs. Suddenly, I was on the floor, there was a wand but I couldn’t see who it was because it was dark. I heard my wand snap and the next thing I woke up in a closed space.” you kept looking away from him. “I just didn’t want my dad to know he raised a bad wizard. I should have put my wand out sooner instead of running.”

“I can say one thing, (y/n). You may be stubborn but you’re definitely not a bad wizard.” he put his hand on your arm and looked at you seriously. “If I see anything in you. It’s strength. Not any wizard or Muggle, could go through this much pain and survive.” he smiled and you felt better after he said those words.

“I also took a shower. ” you added and he laughed. He had a wonderful laugh.

“And you also took a shower.” he repeated after you. “Most people wouldn’t take a shower but you were strong enough to.”

“You flatter me.” you joked and he let another chuckle.

“Go rest now.” he stood up, took the papers and leave you with the last smile before disappearing behind the door.

Who needs a cocky neighbor when you can have a handsome Healer? Right?

[vincent-frankenstein]

different anon, but heck yeah u should definitely infodump about lucid dreaming!! im really interested in it

aaaaa okay !!! uh hold onto ur ears yall im abt to talk em off lmao

so !! if u didnt know, lucid dreaming is basically when you become aware that you’re dreaming while youre in a dream. once you’re aware, you can take control of the dream in literally any way u want — u can do anything, go anywhere, meet anyone, all with the knowledge that nothing can hurt u and nothing can stop u

its a fascinating concept and, the feeling when u actually become lucid for the first time? its better than anything else in the world. its the most invigorating thing u can ever feel, i think. but actually becoming lucid is, ,, , , hm. a time and a half. 

putting the rest under a cut bc, hooooo boy this is gonna get long

first things first! you absolutely have to keep a dream journal. forgetting ur dreams is all well and good when ur not trying to accomplish anything in them, but if you become lucid and then wake up with only the vaguest memory of what you actually did? thats painful.

u can either go all out and get a fancy journal and write them down physically each morning, or u can do what i do and just download an app. i personally use the app Dream Catcher, which lets u tag ur dreams for easy organization. just get in the habit of writing down your dreams every morning, and if you really, really cant remember anything, just write down that you didnt dream anything that day. you’ll train your brain to remember your dreams better

secondly! reality checks! are absolutely imperative! the idea behind them is that, if you do something throughout the day that “proves” your reality, eventually you’ll start doing it in your dreams as well. for example, a common thing in my dreams is that i’ll have extra fingers, so i check my hands a lot throughout the day. 

it can’t just be a casual thing, too. if all you do is glance at your hands and b like “yo looks normal, we gucci”, then you’ll do the same in your dreams even if you have Weird hands. trust me, Dream-You is an idiot, you gotta be obvious with this stuff. take a few moments, look at your hands, count out your fingers, and really think to yourself “am i dreaming?”

try to get in the habit of doing that at least 15 times a day, and eventually you’ll start doing it in your dreams too. 

now, if you just stick with doing those two things — which is what i’m doing right now — your chances of becoming lucid will raise astronomically. even just those two tiny things can train your brain into realizing when the world around you is real and when it isnt. you can also attempt something really easy called a MILD — a mnemonic-induced-lucid-dream — which can help your chances even more without upping the effort 

whenever you go to bed, just take a few moments — even just five minutes can help — and just. lay there. and think to urself, again and again “the next scene will be a dream” or “i will become lucid in my dreams tonight” or something similar. get ur brain really focused on lucid dreaming right before you fall asleep and chances are, those Vibes will bleed over into ur dreams and you’ll become lucid

practice those three things consistently, every day, and pretty soon you’ll start becoming lucid. it takes time, though! dont be discouraged if you end up not becoming lucid for the first few weeks, or even months. sometimes your brain just needs a bit of extra training

that’s what ive been doing for the past year or so — bc damn do i Not have the energy to actually put in too much effort — but!!! there are other techniques!!

my personal favorite is the WBTB, or wake-back-to-bed method. with this technique, you set your alarm for roughly 5-6 hours after you go to sleep so you’ll wake up inside of one of your REM cycles, specifically one where your dreams will be the most vivid. dont do anything, just roll over and go right back to sleep. 

you can even use a MILD along with this, repeat whatever mantra u usually use as you fall back asleep. you should start to see hypnagogic imagery — blobs of color and vague shapes floating before your eyes. just observe them. at one point, they’ll start forming more familiar shapes, and places, and maybe even people — and there should be a moment, a snap, where you go from observing these images to actually being in the scene. you literally build the dream around yourself, its magical

i have read that WBTB can cause sleep paralysis, but i’ve never personally experienced any problems with it, aside from the fact that im always tired the next day.

another thing that could severely increase your chances of being lucid but also involves Effort — meditation. specifically mindfulness meditation. the act of bringing full awareness to your Existence, honing in on just Your body, Your mind, Your breath, will make you a more aware, mindful person, which in turn makes you more perceptive of dream signs. also, the ability to clear your mind and center yourself with a moment’s notice really comes in handy when the dream becomes destabilized and you have to take control

if ur an adhd lad like me — or neurodivergent in any way, really — the idea of meditation can be,,,, terrifying. honestly, i havent meditated in like six months now, because it really wasnt?? doing anything for me?? mostly because im absolutely incapable of sitting still for that long without Something to stimulate me

so! loophole! guided meditations. having someone else guide you through the process can make it a bit easier to focus. just find one that works for u on youtube. there are even guided meditations made specifically to prime ur brain for lucid dreaming!

so thats how you get lucid. now for when youre lucid

at first, lucid dreaming is going to be extremely hard. dreams fall apart very easily — if you get too overexcited or if a dream-character looks at you the wrong way or if you cant seem to do what you want to do, your lucidity can fade and you’ll either go back to being your normal dream self or you’ll wake up. dreams are volatile and hard to control, and even harder to master

thats where meditation comes in handy. youll have a much easier time controlling your dreams if you can look at the world around you, take a breath, center yourself, and know that you can control it. that being said, you can absolutely learn to take control without ever having meditated a day in your life. its all about your mindset!

you have to go into it with confidence. the key to controlling your dreams is knowing that they’re your dreams. you cant forget that you’re in control. thats why i feel like learning to lucid dream doubles as a lesson in self-confidence — you have to learn to trust yourself, trust that you can handle any scenario thrown at you and come out on top.

if you can achieve this mindset, you can literally do anything. ive had maybe 50 lucid dreams since i started learning about them — which… is honestly a really low amount, but. i havent really had the time/energy to really throw myself into it  as much as i want to. but just in those dreams, ive flown, ive shapeshifted, ive met my sides, ive teleported to vast, gorgeous lands and seen some of the most beautiful things ive ever seen. anything is possible in a lucid dream; thats why its so worth it to put in the effort

but when youre first starting out, itll be extremely hard to maintain that mindset. like i said, Dream-you is dumb as shit — you’ll forget youre dreaming, you’ll be unable to control anything, you’ll wake up before you manage to accomplish anything. more often than not, the dream will destabilize, which is Not Fun

if the dream starts to destabilize — basically, if things start going fuzzy or vague, if you suddenly cant see, if you can feel ur body in bed, basically anything that points towards you waking up — there are ways to fix it. literally just spinning around helps for some reason? spin around, fall down, run ur hands along anything u can find and feel the texture, or just demand that the dream stabilize itself. most of the time, thatll work

and if it doesnt, dont be discouraged. theres always another night to dream

so basically: start a dream journal, do reality checks, mmmmaybe meditate if youre up for it, and your dreams will become like. at least 10x more interesting. trust me, try flying: its literally the best feeling in the entire world

its just !!! such a huge, incredible thing, and its so fascinating to learn about too. all the different ways you can train your brain, all the different things you can do, all the studies done on the subject. i suggest reading about Steven LaBerge or keith hearne. hearne led the study that proved lucid dreaming existed in the first place! he got a lucid dreamer to signal to him that he was conscious while asleep using REM (rapid-eye movement), because lucid dreaming happens during the REM state. also, robert waggoner’s book Gateway to the Inner Self is really fascinating too!

hm wow i really went ham here lmao

thanku for giving me a chance to infodump im very happy rn

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Athazagroaphobia (Part 9)

Ruon Jian flinches. The noise tearing from the princess’ throat is absolutely unholy. It is layered and unnatural. A cacophony of suffering and all that is wrong in the world. Overlapping her normal, rather soft and soothing voice is something much lower. There is another something that is more like a wail and beneath that, something perhaps mechanical. 

Her nose and ears bleed profusely, and Ruon slinks further away. The infection...it could be in her blood. Can it transfer that way? Azula twitches and seizes. 

“I told you all, didn’t I!” Bujing bellows. “We shoulda killed her. She’s gonna be one helluva vessle with that blue fucking fire.” 

“Her leg…” Xuia points out. 

“Those things can’t feel pain, it’ll walk.” Bujing snarls. 

With a few more gurgling noises and gasping breaths, the princess goes rigid, her body seeming to lock with her back arched awkwardly and her fingers stuck halfway between a fist and being outstretched. Ruon Jian can’t gauge for exactly how long she held that impossible contortion. She seemed to have been suspended for ages and then her body drops with a considerable thud. 

As soon as her head hits the floor, she begins to weep. Ruon Jian shudders, her cries are more disturbing than those screams. He thinks it is due largely in part to how human and pained her natural voice sounds beneath the excess vocal layers. The others step back even further, but he draws nearer. 

“They’ve got him too…” Shinu trails off. 

Do they? He wonders. Is that what it is? Is his mind his own or are they compelling him to come closer? To join them. An image flickers in his mind. A morbid grotesque thing; his body merging and fusing into Azula’s. He casts it aside as abruptly as he can manage. 

He reaches a hand out to her, feeling the tension in her body slacken under his touch. Her body meets the floor. It looks so incredibly fragile and broken. She, though free from that disturbing living-flesh rigor mortis, goes completely still. 

“Azula?” He tries.

He shouldn’t.

He should back away with the rest of them. If he had any sense at all, he would. 

She turns her head and her lips part ever so slightly. For a moment, he thinks that she is dead. But then she slowly sits up, her hair obscuring her face. At last, self preservation kicks in and he backs away.

“My head hurts.” She mumbles. She brings her fingers to her nose and her expression seems to twist into something of pain and confusion. She looks directly at him. “You fool, don’t just stand there…” Her words are normal for her but her voice is uncanny and still holds traces of the layers. She is panting lightly. He wonders if she is even aware of the distortion in her voice. 

.oOo.

“I need…” What does she need? Help? A doctor? She won’t find either of those. Reassurance, the word comes to her head. She won’t get that either, they are afraid of her. No, beyond that. They are horrified through and through. 

For once it is not her own fault. 

The ringing remains in her ears. “Get me something to drink.” She feels sick. She hasn’t time to fully comprehend this before she hunches over and expels what little food is in her belly. Mostly what comes up is a viscus mix of chunky, clotted blood, and some sort of thick black ooze. 

It takes everything to keep herself awake and upright. She tastes rot and copper on her tongue and her stomach seems to be ripping at itself. She hugs her middle and gives a soft gasp of a cry. She squeezes her eyes shut and a single tear manages to escape. 

“I’ve seen enough.” She knows that the gruff voice belongs to Bujing. “Let’s kill it before it can kill us.”

She opens her mouth to protest, put can only manage another pained hiss, it probably doesn’t help her case.  

“Wait.” She thinks that it is Li. “This isn’t what the infection looks like, not entierly.” 

“Then it’s evolving!” Bujing declares. 

“You don’t have to kill her, Bujing.”

“And you don’t have to cater to her needs anymore, Xuia.”

Her vision blurs as the man draws nearer. “You didn’t think that she was going to last did you?” He’d have probably given her a good kick if not for his fear of making contact with her disease riddled body.

She doesn’t think that contact has anything to do with contraction. 

No, whatever this is. It is a disease of the mind. She supposes that it is bad luck for, whatever they are, that her mind is already sick. 

Such is her parting thought as she flops back to the floor. 

.oOo.

Her first moments of awakening almost pleasant; there’s a relief in knowing that she has woken at all. But the moment of jubilation passes as quickly as it had set in, replaced by a sense of wrongness, as though the universe is just off somehow. She looks around her room, everything is as it should be, where it had been last left. The colors are the same, it isn’t inexplicably lighter nor darker. 

But it is not the same.  

Azula can’t place it, but it just isn’t.

She supposes it is more of a feeling than any real, tangible physical sensation. Something is wrong not just in her room, but in the world. She wishes that she could shake this feeling away and as soon as she does she longs to have it back, for that unnerved feeling is nothing in comparison to the sheer and utter panic that follows its departure.

She is alone again. 

Alone and bound. 

In a final moment of disbelief, she gives the leather strap a tug. 

Azula jerks again with more force before letting an absolutely animalistic scream tear from her throat. Distantly, she notes that this isn’t the kind of behavior she should exhibit; that this is the kind of demeanor that would convince a person to tether her in the first place. 

But she wants out, she wants out now. 

Before she can go hungry again. 

Before she can go thirsty. 

And tired. 

And completely feral. 

Just at the notion of reliving her worst week, she may have already reverted into a feral state. She wishes furiously that the creature--mayhaps, may creatures--would have ripped the entirety of that memory from her. 

“Let me go!” She hollers her voice is raspy and with a harsh shrillness. “You worthless pesents, let me go!” But what if they have already vacated the palace in favor of a more secure place. A trickle of nervous sweat forms on her forehead. “You can’t leave me here!” She shouts to the darkness of the hallway. “You can’t!” 

She throws her head back against the pillow. At least this prison is more comfortable than the merciless ground in the Capital square. At least her position is more bearable. But she isn’t going to last as long here; there is no rain to provide her with drink and the palace is rodent free. 

She watches the sun wayne and she knows that hours have gone by. Hours without a sound or a soul. She wishes that Bujing would have killed her as he had vowed to do. The night deepens and so does her resignation. 

The initial shock and dismay gives way to a creeping numbness. In that numbness, that strange, off-beat feeling works its way back in. She fills the emptiness and quiet with trying to discern exactly what is not quite right about the world.

She doesn’t make much progress at all beyond noting that she is simply, somehow seeing the world through different lenses. But she still feels like Azula. She still feels as though she is in full control. 

Except for that one whisper. 

The one she can hear but only if she really tries to. 

She isn’t worried. 

That kind of thing had taken grip of her mind days prior to the comet. 

Azula turns her head so that her cheek is against the pillow. She forces herself to believe that she is simply going to sleep after the stresses of a normal day. 

.oOo.

“She looks normal to me.” Ruon Jian notes. 

“They all do.” Bujing counters. 

“That’s not necessarily true.” Says Shinu.

Ruon Jian looks to Li. The old woman seems to consider. “The incubation process I witnessed with my dear sister was much different.” She confirms. “I do hate to say it, but Bujing could be correct about an evolution.” She pauses. “A strain or possession that takes hold more rapidly.”

Ruon Jian’s stomach lurches. It was already bad enough when the progression was slow. 

“So what do you propose?” Bujing asks. 

“Keep her secure and see if she starts to deteriorate.” Shinu suggests. 

“No.” Ruon speaks without fully forming the the reason for his aversion to this plan. The small gaggle of survivors await further elaboration. “This thing affects the mind before the body, right?” 

Li nods. 

“So we should let her go. We’re not going to get an accurate picture if we chain her up and treat her like she’s already gone…”

“Ridiculous!” Bujing exclaims. 

“Fair.” Li disagrees. “We will let her go free until we have a reason to speculate that she shouldn’t be.” The old woman observes the cross and skeptical expressions she has just drawn. “Pay attention to how she walks…” and then she backtracks. “If she tries walking at all without crutches, that is the first sign something is amiss. If her gait is stiff, then she has been taken. If her body locks and tremors…” She slows her pacing. “I think that you understand what I am talking about. “We’ve all seen it.” 

They mutter among themselves, some in agreement while others protest. “I’ll undo her restraints.” Ruon volunteers. 

“Be careful.” Xuia requests. 

Her eyes are eerily vacant when he gazes into them. “Azula.” He addresses and sets a try of stale food on her nightstand. 

“Are you really here?” She whispers. 

In way of an answer he loosens the leather straps around her wrists and lets her wiggle her hands free as he works on the ones binding her ankles and then the largest one that locks her torso to the bed. 

“I thought that…” Her voice is hoarse. “You didn’t leave me behind?” 

He shakes his head. “We were out all day trying to fix our barriers as much as we can. We’re not going to be able to stay here much longer. I don’t know where we’re going to go.” 

Azula rolls her eyes, giving him a burst of reassurance that she is still the princess he sort of knew. “To the tribes, idiot. Like I told you.” She sits up and Ruon watches her movement closely. It is still slow, maybe some stiff. But it is the stiffness that comes with being confined to one position for too long, a theory confirmed when she stretches her arms and her good leg. 

“I got you something to eat.” 

She lifts it to her mouth and makes a face when the stench reaches her nose. Ultimately she eats it anyhow. “This is dreadful, did you scrape it off of a pan?” 

“I’m not too worried about you.” He ignores the ungrateful commentary. “Bujing seems to think that you’re possessed, but you seem fine to me.” 

“Fine…” she trails off. “I’m not fine.” She takes another bite and her face bunches. “But I’m not infected.” 

“Do you want to come to the dining hall?”

“And grace my ears with Bujing’s lovely banter? No thanks.”

“I think that you should come down and show everyone that you’re still you.” 

Azula sighs. “Yes, I suppose I should.” 

Ruon Jian lets her finish her meal before helping her out of bed. “Shinu is working on new crutches for you. Some of our fencing was broken beyond repair so he’s using those parts to make you something that won’t break as easily.” 

“At least someone is useful.” She huffs as she fights for balance. He holds her securly. “Is Chan the only one who died.” 

Ruon Jian flinches. “Yeah…” 

“What about my serving girl?” 

“Xuia? She’s fine. Sort of, she’s not taking Chan’s death too well; they were dating.” 

Azula sniffs, “only a complete dullard would try dating when the world is ending.” 

“I don’t think so.” Ruon disagrees. “People need to find something to live for.” 

“People need to face that there isn’t anything left to live for.”