#resonating echoes

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Welcome To The Outpost: Part 2.4 - Grief

gif from @midnightdjarin

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: CT-9904 Crosshair, Clone Commander Mayday Word Count: ~3875 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: Commander Mayday was grievously wounded during the avalanche. As Crosshair insists on carrying him back to base, Mayday reflects on his regrets.

Read Part 1.1 - Frozen Read Part 1.2 - Rise From The Ashes Read Part 1.3 - Lost Battle Read Part 1.4 - No Way Out Read Part 1.5 - Rock And A Hard Place Read Part 2.1 - Last Chance Read Part 2.2 - Broken Read Part 2.3 - Swept Away

The churning and tumbling had stopped. All around him was still, the weight of snow pressing and compressing his body so that he could barely hold the breath in his lungs.

And yet, through his closed eyelids, Crosshair sensed light. That meant he must be near the surface.

He began to struggle, thrashing his way through the seductive cold of the ice until he reached air, eyes shooting wide open as a gasping breath heaved into his body.

His chest burned from the time without air – how long had he been under the ice, at the mercy of the avalanche? And still the seductive cold of that whispering grave pulled at him, sapping his strength, willing him to lie down and sleep.

He fought the urge with a physical shake, pulling his arms free of the snow and righting himself. Dimly he realised he had lost his helmet. Perhaps that explained the cold, but also why his enhanced eyesight had noticed the faint filtering of light that guided him here. If he’d been shuttered behind the tinted visor, he might have stayed beneath the surface until suffocation took him.

The mountain air bit against bare skin already numbed from being submerged in the ice, so cold it burned. Crosshair grit his teeth together to keep them from chattering and tried to recall what had happened.

The avalanche, no doubt triggered by the resonance from the cave collapse. Running.

Mayday, pushing him out the way of danger.

Stumbling, falling.

Mayday’s body, swept up and dashed against a boulder with a sickening crunch. The last sound he had heard before his world became ice and snow.

Mayday.

Glancing around at the near-featureless expanse of white left by the avalanche’s destruction, Crosshair tried to pinpoint something, anything, to get his bearings. There was the mountain peak –the tunnels they came in by had most surely been buried in the surging snowfall.

A tiny spur of dark rock jutted up from the surface. Something constricted in Crosshair’s chest and, fighting the chest-high snow every step of the way, he began to head towards it.

Instinct, more than logic, saw him scrabble at the snow around the boulder, franticly sweeping at the surface until his numbed fingertips met resistance. His hands shook so much that delicacy wasn’t an option, but he did his best to be gentle as he brushed the snow aside.

He unearthed a familiar helmet, powdery ice crystals clinging to the fabric and grubby plastoid. It tilted easily, empty.

A rising tremor of panic shuddered through Crosshair’s body as he dived back into the snow. Now his gloved hands found hair, and flesh, and he grasped broad shoulders to pull the buried commander to the surface.

As he broke free of the ice Mayday choked a sodden breath, his body reacting automatically to the air. His eyes were closed, skin pale with cold, beard almost white with snow.

"Mayday... Mayday!"

It felt awkward to wrap his mouth around the unfamiliar syllables of the reg commander's name. He'd spent the whole time avoiding it, not wanting to give the impression of connection.

But now the instinct to call him by name came as easily as saying Echo, or Tech.

A soft groan in response was enough to assure him that the commander was surfacing from unconsciousness. Crosshair gave him another shake, leaning in close, breath clouding the air between them from his desperate, open-mouthed gasps.

“Mayday, wake up!”

Dark brown eyes fluttered open, glazed with confusion. Mayday tilted is head to the side, a weak cough signalling his return to awareness.

“Come on.” Crosshair barely recognised his own voice, the urgent plea in his tone. “We have to move.”

Mayday lifted a trembling arm from the snow, grasping weakly for Crosshair. The sniper caught his hand, ready to haul him up, but Mayday pushed him away.

“Go.” His voice was no more than a wheeze, and his eyes closed as another wet cough racked his body. As the spasm passed his breath hissed out in a sigh, his face contorting with agony. “I won’t make it.”

Crosshair paused his efforts, gaze roving over the commander’s face. Then he reached for the other clone’s helmet, carefully lifting Mayday’s neck so he could slide the protective headwear back into place.

Mayday choked a laugh through the vocoder as Crosshair looped his arm under his shoulders, gently positioning his body alongside Mayday’s and lifting him to his feet.

“Stubborn, aren’t you.”

Crosshair didn’t reply. Mayday was dead weight against him, unable to stand by himself.

“Where’s your bucket, lad?”

The sniper shook his head, taking a fighting step through the snow, hauling Mayday with him. “Lost in the avalanche.”

“Got your rifle?”

Crosshair paused, startled, his sudden stop pulling another grunt of pain from the commander. He hadn’t even thought about his rifle.

He cast his gaze back along the trough of disturbed snow where he had fought his way to Mayday. The dark metal of his firepuncher was half-buried where he had originally surfaced.

He could almost hear the weak grin in Mayday’s voice as he said, “Never known a sniper get separated from his rifle.”

“I had other things on my mind.”

Crosshair carefully eased Mayday back into the snowbank before wading back along the channel to retrieve his rifle.

Some deep part of his mind was horrified that he had let it go. It had been in his hands when the avalanche struck. He was trained never to leave himself defenceless. Countless missions, years worth of training; no matter how bad things got, the only way to get his rifle out of his hands was to pry it from his unconscious fingers.

And yet, fighting his way from the ice, his only thought had been to find Mayday.

Making his way back to the commander, Crosshair carefully lifted him again. Maday sagged against him, and he took the weight gladly.

This time he didn’t bother with reassurances, fighting the chattering of his teeth. He merely set his sights on the horizon and began to walk.

*

Mayday heaved another shallow inhale past the stabbing pain in his lungs, light-headed as the gasping breaths failed to deliver enough oxygen to his system. Every staggered step through the snow jarred his injuries, still unchecked, but there was no need to stop and assess them.

He was dying.

His memories following the avalanche were hazy. Crosshair’s voice had come to him as if from a long way off, tinged with desperation. He’d fought his way towards the sound, command instinct compelling him to reassure the younger trooper.

As consciousness gripped him and pain swamped his senses, he’d realised he wasn’t making it back to the outpost. Better to tell Crosshair to go on alone.

A command the sniper ignored. Instead he’d dug Mayday out of the snow, gentle as he could be when he cried out in pain, then carefully lifted his body to help him walk.

Not that Mayday was doing much walking. Crosshair was half-dragging him, Mayday’s own legs too unsteady to take him more than a few steps at a time.

But still the sniper carried him. So much for his earlier dismissive attitude.

A faint, distracted smile curled Mayday’s lips inside his helmet. He’d seen Crosshair’s façade for what it was early on, recognised the self-imposed distance that only those who truly cared – and had been truly hurt – ever exhibited.

He leaned a little more heavily into the sniper. Despite his acid demeanour, and all the rumours about the CT-99s, Crosshair cared. He could have left him in the snow and didn’t. Even when Mayday told him to.

Now it was Crosshair’s turn to stumble, almost going down in the snow. Mayday dropped to his knees beside him, trying to get his blurred vision to focus on the sniper’s narrow face. The thin clone was wracked with whole-body shudders, his armour not meant for the weather, what little body heat he had rapidly being lost through his unprotected head. His brown eyes were narrowed in a determined glare, but it took him two tries to push to his feet again.

Still, Mayday didn’t try and rise immediately. Instead his hands went to the strips of dirty fabric binding his chest, numbed fingers barely able to find the ends, and started to unwrap it.

Crosshair turned wearily, ready to help the commander stand, and stopped when he saw what Mayday was doing. He huffed an open-mouthed breath, too tired to speak, but the question was in his eyes.

“Gotta cover your head,” muttered Mayday by way of explanation, swallowing against pain as he moved his arms stiffly to unwrap the fabric. “Gotta keep you warm.”

Piercing brown eyes studied him as he wound the length of fabric round his hands, slowly revealing the white clone trooper armour he wore beneath.

His cuirass began to crumble. He’d been hiding the cracks in it for so long he’d almost forgotten them. Now, without the cloth wraps holding it together, the entire chest plate began to disintegrate.

He saw the soft horror in Crosshair’s questioning gaze and swallowed, summoning an explanation.

“Standard clone plastoid… isn’t designed for prolonged exposure to the cold. It goes brittle, cracks.” He panted with the effort of speech. “Doesn’t soak an impact, but it’s better than nothing. Least it’s another layer again the cold.”

Crosshair dropped to his knees with a strangled protest, stopping Mayday’s hands. His gaze was on the ground between them, unable to look at him.

Mayday lifted a trembling hand, clapped it clumsily against Crosshair’s shoulder in an attempt to reassure him. But the sniper covered his hands with his own, taking the bundled strips from him. Then he lifted the sliding bottom section of the cuirass back against Mayday’s ribs, beginning to ravel it back into place.

“What’re you doing?” slurred Mayday. “You’ll freeze without this.”

“So will you, if your armour falls off your body,” bit Crosshair, annoyance his tone, a mask for fear. He batted Mayday’s hands away and quickly resecured the bindings.

Mayday sagged forwards, forehead of his helmet coming to rest against Crosshair’s pauldron. “I’m gone anyway,” he said softly, a bitter chuckle sending lancing pain though his ribs to choke the sound off with a gulp. “You need to get yourself out of here.”

“Shut up,” snarled Crosshair, pulling Mayday’s arm back across his shoulder, heaving him to his feet. With his other hand he retrieved his rifle, thumping it butt-down into the snow. He levered himself against the rifle, starting their stagger forwards once more, feet dragging through the snow.

Mayday couldn’t contain the mewl of pain as he stumbled against the sniper, something in his chest dragging and stabbing further at the already damaged parts of him. Crosshair paused, a flash of concern crossing his drawn features. Mayday quickly shook his head, a silent plea not to worry, and forced his injured body to stand straighter.

Crosshair was exhausted. Just as exhausted as Mayday. And if Mayday didn’t keep walking, Crosshair wouldn’t either. He’d sit by his side and let the snow take him.

The question now was how long could he hold on, for Crosshair’s sake.

*

Day passed as a brightening of the snowstorm that turned the whole world to white. Night descended with it dulling to grey once more.

Through it all the two clone troopers trudged wearily on. Hunger gnawed at Crosshair’s insides, a familiar emptiness. They’d brought no rations.

Each time his long eyesight picked out an ice vulture circling overhead, he wondered if it would be the one to feast on their corpses.

But somehow they fought on. At his side, Mayday struggled through the snow, barely able to stand at times against the driving wind. Sometimes his arm slithered from around Crosshair’s neck as he collapsed to the ground, lost to the brief respite of oblivion that claimed him.

Crosshair had no such respite. Each time he lifted Mayday once more, draping the unconscious commander across his back and finding some inner reserve of strength to carry him.

Mayday always awoke before long. The movement of walking jostled him, starting him groaning as he came back to wakefulness. Crosshair didn’t investigate. There was nothing he could do about whatever injuries were hidden inside his armour, and the exposure would kill him first if he tried to inspect them. Better to ignore his cries of pain, and keep walking. Get back to the Outpost.

It was their best chance of survival.

No amount of dogged determination could keep Crosshair walking forever. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept. They’d walked all night to reach the raider’s base, then most of the day after the avalanche. That was without however long he’d been awake before that, nervously awaiting the mission, the flight to Barton IV and the fight at the depot.

Sleep was an alluring idea, but seductive though it was some deep-seated self-preservation told him it was impossible. A rest though. Just a short break, sheltered from the wind and driving snow, a chance to gather his reserves to continue. He could spare the time for that.

Not that there was anywhere sheltered enough to stop. He’d carry on. They’d walk a bit further. Surely he’d find somewhere they could stop.

The storm increased its ferocity. True dark enveloped the mountain, the kind even Crosshair struggled to see in. Still no shelter.

Crosshair could hear the commander’s laboured breathing through the vocoder of his helmet. He felt every grunt of pain that shuddered through the man, transmitted to him where their bodies pressed close together.

They had to stop. Mayday couldn’t go on.

Reluctantly Crosshair steered them towards the wall of the mountain. It wasn’t shelter. Not really. But the nook in the cliff-face was enough to rest against.

Levering himself up the slope with his rifle, Crosshair all but collapsed to sit against the rock-face, tucking his back against the dark wall. Mayday followed him down, half-staggering, and without thinking Crosshair wrapped his arm around Mayday’s body and pulled him close.

It was meagre comfort, his body too numb to feel the contact. But he draped his other arm over them too, rifle coming to rest across their laps. In response Mayday curled into him, knees and arms coming up as his helmet rested against Crosshair’s shoulder, a sigh of relief escaping him as his body sank against the sniper’s.

Crosshair tilted his face against him, ignoring the chill of the ice-crusted fabric as he pressed his cheek to Mayday’s helmet. He had to keep his mind busy. Couldn’t let sleep creep up on him.

Had to get them back to the outpost.

Had to save Mayday.

*

“Geo and Dene died in a snowstorm.”

Mayday’s broken laugh pulled Crosshair from the edge of slumber and he sat up with a jerk, startled by the unexpected comment. He settled his expression into a frown, pulling his arms, which had slackened, more tightly around Mayday.

“Ray of sunshine, aren’t you,” he grit out between chattering teeth. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It was my fault. I ordered the patrol.”

Crosshair didn’t know what to say to that. He chose to stay silent, but at least Mayday’s words had given him the jolt of adrenaline needed to stave off sleep.

The commander was no longer shaking. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Should’ve done better. Should’ve done more to protect my men.”

Mayday’s voice faded in and out, the edges of his words blurred by pain.

“That’s what a leader does. He protects his squad.”

A real leader protects his squad.

Look where that’s gotten you. They’re all going to die here because of your failed leadership.

Crosshair’s stomach seized, a churning sensation that would have made him feel nauseous if he’d eaten anything in the last thirty-six hours. Instead it was just cramps, almost indistinguishable from hunger pangs, except for his brother’s voice echoing in his memory.

“You did what you could,” he muttered, the platitude sounding hollow even as he said it.

“Should’ve done more. Should’ve… should’ve fought harder to get the Empire to send supplies.”

Crosshair’s answer was a bitter scoff. “You’re one man. The Empire weren’t going to listen to you.”

He hated himself as he said it. Hated the bitter taste of truth as he refuted his own delusions to reassure the other man.

For a moment Mayday fell silent. His head went heavier on Crosshair’s shoulder, and for a moment Crosshair feared he’d passed out. Then, “I’m failing you. Just like I failed them.”

“Shut up.” His voice shook. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Guilt was compounding Mayday’s grief over the deaths of his men, and Crosshair risked being pulled into the vortex of his despair. His brown eyes roved over Mayday’s helmet, snow-crusted and tucked so close to his chest.

He brought one arm around Mayday’s shoulders, giving a squeeze that he didn’t know if the cold-numbed commander would feel through his armour. His eyes stung hot despite the ambient temperature, and he pressed them shut before tears could freeze on his lashes.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he repeated in a shattered whisper. “Please don’t say that.”

He felt Mayday shift against him, didn’t open his eyes. Just held tighter, until Mayday straightened, righting himself so he leaned less heavily on him.

“Hexx was my oldest friend. We’d been together since… since forever.”

Crosshair grunted, easing his eyes open and letting his gaze relax over the swirling snowstorm outside their huddled position. He didn’t ease the pressure of his arm around Mayday.

“Been with him since the beginning. Thought I’d see the end with him, too. Never thought he’d go before me.”

His voice wavered, regret leaching into his words. “Kriff, I never imagined I’d have to go on without him.”

“You’re a trooper,” said Crosshair flatly. “You know the risks.”

“Yeah. Just… we’d survived everything up ‘til now. Almost survived this.”

Mayday’s voice grew stronger the longer he talked, like the train of thought was staving off unconsciousness. Crosshair wanted to tell him to be quiet, to keep his doubting, draining words to himself. He couldn’t find the heart to.

“I was just a shiny when we met. Fresh out of Kamino. He had green paint, but it was so new it didn’t have a scratch on it. He wasn’t much older than me.”

Crosshair huffed a soft breath of disbelief. That wasn’t forever. Him and his brothers had been together forever. Ever since he was a cadet, too tiny to remember a time before his brothers were his world.

Part of him wanted to stay quiet and listened to the older clone talk. Part of him burned as Mayday’s unsteady voice evoked those jealous, bitter thoughts about his own past.

“I remember after the order. Scouring our paint off. Stripping the armour back to white.” Mayday choked on a wet cough, the spasm wracking his body and causing him to collapse weakly against Crosshair once more. “Still saw green hexagons every time I looked at him. Couldn’t… couldn’t understand it at the time. Why the Empire wanted us all the same.

“Veetch never got to paint his armour. Never got… never got a lot of things, that boy. Lived on Barton IV, and died here too. Not much of a life.”

Crosshair thought of the two troopers who had shadowed Mayday when he first arrived at the base. They had both looked battle-worn and weary to him, their armour scarred by the elements and similarly bound by dirty wraps, just like Mayday’s.

He didn’t know which had been Veetch, and which had been Hexx. Usually he didn’t worry about that sort of thing. But now he was ashamed.

Mayday’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Tell me about your squad.”

With a surprised exhale, Crosshair almost laughed. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“What colours did you wear? Before the Empire put you in this.”

Mayday’s knuckles rapped weakly against Crosshair’s chest-plate. Crosshair caught the other clone’s hand in his own, wrapping his fingers round Mayday’s, for what little good the extra warmth would do.

“Grey and red,” he said, barely recognising the voice as his own. “Ash grey and blood red.”

Mayday’s feeble chuckle reverberated though their closely pressed bodies, and Crosshair found the sound elicited a wild, hopeful light in him. He rested his forehead against Mayday’s bucket, squeezing his eyes shut as he begged a maker he didn’t believe in to spare the commander, just a little longer.

“You clone commandos always were extra,” wheezed Mayday past his laugh. “Poetic.”

Crosshair found a shaky, shuddering laugh was drawn from him too, so unfamiliar that he panicked to hear it and clamped his jaw shut. When was the last time he laughed?

He didn’t remember. Too long. Not since before.

Before the order.

And now here he was, facing death in the freezing wilderness, and it felt hysterical and freeing to laugh.

Agonising, and cathartic, to let Mayday needle the memories of his brothers, like drawing poison from a wound too long unattended.

He replied at length, squeezing Mayday’s numb fingers in his own. “Yeah. I guess it was.”

“How was your armour painted?”

“With a crosshair. And skulls.”

Mayday’s snorted laugh set off another coughing fit, and Crosshair scrambled to his knees, leaning the commander forwards and holding him until it passed.

“A crosshair,” panted Mayday at last. “That’s on the nose.”

Crosshair just huffed a laugh, settling them back into their nook. The storm still raged, but somehow it seemed further away now.

“And skulls?”

A nod. “Yeah. All of us had them.”

“I’d’ve liked to see that.”

Crosshair lapsed into quiet, his thoughts turning inwards.

His stomach burned hot and sick with resentment, bile gathering behind his teeth as he remembered how they left him. But his fingers, numb inside his gloves, had other plans. With a trembling hand he reached up, began to trace the traitorous pattern on Mayday’s helm.

Half a skull. Even as he tried to shut out the thought, it was impossible to ignore the parallels between the long-haired commander and his estranged brother. His fingers skimmed through the crust of ice on Mayday’s helmet, picking out the pattern in perfect relief.

“They left me behind. After the order.”

He hadn’t meant for his voice to crack. Hadn’t meant for the sob to escape.

Now it was Mayday’s turn to fold his arms around him, drawing Crosshair close against his chest.

“I know, lad. It’s okay.”

Fourteen months since the order. Fourteen months under Imperial control.

Hunting his brothers down. Not understanding the buzzing in his head that wanted them dead.

Then wanting them to suffer the way that he had suffered.

Before they had left him. Again.

Something inside Crosshair broke. As inexorable as the avalanche had been, the tide of grief he had been holding back burst through the brittle dam of his self-control. The howl that ripped from his lips rivalled the wind, anger and sorrow mingling as his so-long repressed fears refused to be chained inside his heart any longer.

Mayday held him as he shook apart. And continued to hold him as they finally slept.

Read Part 2.5 - Betrayal

*something something broken armour Mayday showing Crosshair the fractures in his soul allowing Crosshair to feel his own loss*

I gave passing consideration to concise storytelling and then decided to completely disregard that in favour of writing whatever I liked to my heart's content. So sorry not sorry for the long chapter I guess :)

How are you feeling, beloved readers? There is only one more Angstpril prompt for me to fill: Day 29, Betrayal. I'm sure you all know where this story is heading.

Have you enjoyed all the stories this month? It's been great to work on this challenge in partnership with @kybercrystals94 and @the-little-moment! Keep an eye out for our last few stories, and the eventual master-post rounding up all our fics :)

[lotus-protector-official]

“You mean...those beings with grey icons are actually a subset of faceless spirits? Not just normal beings wearing grey masks and sunglasses as a disguise?” He is pressing X to doubt. 

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Being Human - Chapter 22

<= Chapter 21

Summary : Vanessa brings a scared little kid back to her manor. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/74145501

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HEEEEEEY NEW CHAPTER (sorry for the late update these days !) I hope you'll like this chapter !

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings​​ !

Uh if you’re interested, I post my progress on my chapters on Hatty Fan Time (the AHIT Discord server I’m moderating with two friends), so if you wanna join, go ahead !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 22 : “I n-need guidance.”    

The trek to the manor was something Snatcher could describe as anything but enjoyable. Being dragged by the one who had broken his heart and killed him, leaving him to rot in a cold cellar, all alone- no, the former shade was definitely not enjoying what was happening, far from it. He was terrified. Being dragged away by his murderer, not knowing what would happen to him, not knowing if he had even saved his friends earlier… His mind was a mess and his body was no better.

The now young Prince was being carried through the snow, his skin slowly getting blue from how cold the temperatures were. He could barely feel his feet anymore, just like his hands, his clothing certainly not made for such terrible weather. The more they walked, the more Snatcher had trouble keeping up, his legs shaking both from the fear and from the cold. No matter how much he tried to pull away, nothing he did actually managed to make Vanessa falter in any way.

He knew she would not hesitate to break his wrist should he keep resisting her. After a while, Snatcher stopped. All he could do while being dragged like this was to look at his surroundings- or what was left of his forest. The snow was covering everything up, a deep and thick white layer hiding the vegetation… And, to his great despair, most likely frozen statues of his minions, those who were too slow to flee.

The former ghost looked away and shut his eyes hard- he didn’t have the courage to witness any ice statue of someone he hadn’t been able to save. Again. He couldn’t help but feel like the same story was repeating itself, hundreds of years after it all started: Vanessa’s unstable thoughts acted up, she froze Subcon and all of its surrounding regions, and now she was going to lock him up again after killing everyone once more.

This was never going to stop, now, was it? Or, perhaps, it would… After one of them died, once and for all, putting an end to this never-ending story. However, at this particular moment… Snatcher wasn’t so confident about his own survival in the matter: with a frail and fragile body, completely powerless both figuratively and literally, the child had no way to get out of this without finding a good plan.

Would he find one, though…?

Soon, the silhouette of the old manor started to appear in front of them. Snatcher’s feet hurt and he could barely feel Vanessa’s strong grip on his wrist anymore. The sensations in his limbs were numb and so was the pain… But he knew this wasn’t a good thing, this only proved how much his body was suffering and was trying to survive. How long would it even last, given his situation…?

Snatcher’s eyes widened at the sight of the manor, ice visible on his lashes, the wet traces of the tears on his cheeks now completely frozen. It stung, it burnt- yet it was just the beginning of a new nightmare, the former ghost was more than aware of that.

The child’s stare fell on the two statues in front of the porch, unmoving but, he knew that, very much sentient and deadly. Snatcher felt chills running through him and a feeling of panic spread inside of him: as a ghost, he could deal with them, those had never been a big problem, to begin with… But as a human, no, as a kid… This changed quite a lot and, for a reason he couldn’t place yet, Snatcher felt like his emotions were even worse. Sure, becoming human again had felt awful in that regard, already- but now? He had the impression everything was just more… Intense, in some way. While, as an adult, he would have been just as scared from seeing the statues, now… Now, Snatcher had the urge to run away and cry, before curling up and hoping for something, someone to save him.

What… What was happening to him…?! The same thing had happened earlier while he had been facing Vanessa. Had his mind really become younger as his body had? Was this even possible? It didn’t seem right… He was still “him” after all!

So why did he feel so different?

Snatcher shut his eyes once more as they passed by the statues, a wave of intense fear hitting him- but nothing happened. Those things remained perfectly motionless, keeping the same pose as Vanessa dragged him up to the door.

-“There we are,” she cheerfully said, and for a brief second, she almost sounded like her old self. Almost.

With a swift gesture, the Queen opened the door and entered the manor, pulling him inside as she did so. The second Snatcher was in the entrance hall with her, she quickly closed the door behind him and… Locked it, finally letting go of the child’s wrist after that. The sound of the lock made Snatcher’s face pale up even more than it already was. Sure, this had to be expected… But, nonetheless, this just made him feel even more terrified. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, the organ pounding inside of his chest and his legs trembling at the terrible realization that he was now trapped with his murderer.

This simple thought seemed to put some order in his mess of a mind while his survival instincts took control of his body again. His life was on the line, and this place was dangerous, so very dangerous. Horrifying memories came back to him, only intensifying his urge to get out of here as soon as possible. Without thinking twice, his legs moved on their own and he dashed to the closest room- the kitchen.

He had to flee, now!

Unsurprisingly, the Queen hadn’t expected him to try to run away so soon after she let go of his wrist. A small gasp left her lips as she turned her head in his direction, a bit too slow to react. Snatcher’s little hands had now reached the door handle.

-“Stop right there!” Her voice echoed in his back, making chills run down his back, and the temperature dropped distinctly. Oh Gods, oh Gods…! Panic fuelling him, the child opened the door and dashed inside, closing the door as fast as he could. Oh, but he knew this would do nothing to hold her back… After all, she had frozen the entirety of Subcon, so a small wooden door was barely an obstacle to her. Still, fear and instincts were in control, telling him what to do without wasting any second.

And he was right to hurry: as soon as he closed the door and started to run away, the Queen opened the door again, entering the room. Her aura was now much darker and it was easy to see how annoyed she was. Ice was spreading around her from her feet, her shadow more prominent than ever, and her ghostly face even scarier than it previously was.

-“Come back here!” she yelled at him, but he kept running, turning to go to the other part of the room: the living room. He knew from memory that there was another door there, which he would be able to use to go back into the hallway, hopefully gaining enough time to disappear from her sight long enough to hide. She was quite hunchbacked after all, maybe he’d be able to distance her, even if just a little…!

However, his hopes were soon shattered as a loud, strident “enough!” resonated in the room, making it shake lightly. The temperature dropped considerably, to the point where Snatcher felt like he had been thrown back into the cold snow outside. This was a pretty good indicator of how irritated Vanessa was- he had learnt that the hard way in the cellar.

Before he was able to react, the Queen stomped her foot on the wooden floor. Instantly, a line of ice spread to his own feet, fast, trapping them and immobilizing him. It all happened in a blink, so much that Snatcher fell forward, still caught in his momentum. Yet, his ankles couldn’t move- and as his body hit the hard floor, a horrifying cracking sound echoed in the room, one he had heard oh so many times, one he had loved listening back when he was a sadistic ghost in charge of Subcon Forest- the sound of broken bones.

One of his ankles had twisted in an unnatural way as he fell down. The adrenaline and the cold allowed him not to understand what had just happened, temporarily blessing him with ignorance while all he could think about was to crawl away, in vain. His feet were stuck into the ice, preventing him from moving away from this very spot, no matter how much his nails were scratching at the floor in the hope this would help him to get away. It didn’t.

Panicked breaths left his lips, his heart pounding more and more into his chest. This was it, he was going to die, there was no way he’d survive this, absolutely no way-

-“You are quite the disrespectful child, aren’t you?” scolded a voice behind him, reminding him sharply of the dangerous monster standing in his back. Slowly, ever so slowly, the former ghost turned his head in Vanessa’s direction, his cheeks deadly pale and his heart stopping as his eyes met hers. Her red eyes were glaring at him and her shadow looked spikier than it usually did. The ice spreading off her feet was even more intense than before, slowly trapping the wood under its cold surface.

The Queen was livid.

-“I- I- I’m sorry,” he breathed out, unable to take his eyes off her, too terrified to do so. This was the end, this was how he was going to die- again: “I’m sorry, p-please, I didn’t-”

-“Quiet!” she shouted at him, her rage even more noticeable as the temperature dropped yet another time. The ice trap around Snatcher’s feet fortified, and it was only then that he noticed the strange position of his ankle. As if just seeing it was what Snatcher’s body needed to realize he had been injured, pain started to grow inside of him. The adrenaline wasn’t strong enough to contain it anymore. Tears welled up in his eyes as a silent scream escaped him, the pain becoming stronger and stronger as seconds passed.

It hurt so much!

Under so many intense emotions, the tears in his eyes finally fell, rolling down his cheeks as a few sobs left his lips. Oh, Gods…! He couldn’t move, no matter how much he wanted to- he knew it would just hurt even more should he try to crawl away again.

Quite surprisingly, Vanessa’s furious expression softened as she noticed his suffering and heard his cries. Had he not been in this situation, he would have found she looked like a mother staring at her injured child- but this was not the case, oh no, far from it.

She had been the one to hurt him, even indirectly. She was everything but a mother-figure, he knew that much. Still, contrary to what he had first thought, instead of hurting him even more, she crouched to his level. Her face had indeed softened, which… He wasn’t sure if he should see it as something positive, really.

At least, she didn’t look like she was going to kill him, so that was that, he supposed…

-“Aw, look at what you did,” she cooed with “compassion”, though he knew very well she wasn’t able to feel such an emotion. No, she was just a cold-hearted monster. Ha.

Then again, not the time for puns.

He glanced back at her, obvious fear visible in his eyes. What was she going to do to him…? More tears rolled down his cheeks, stinging his face with how low the temperature was in the room. Should they go lower, his tears would most likely freeze on his skin…

-“I told you to stop, didn’t I?” she continued with the same cooing tone, except this time it had a reproach side to it. Snatcher didn’t answer, too terrified to do so, only able to wait for his terrible fate. However, his silence didn’t seem to please Vanessa and she reached to his right ear, pinching it as a parent would do to a disobedient child, and pulling it up.

-“Didn’t I?” she urged him, irritated once more, and Snatcher just knew she was waiting for an answer.

-“Y-yes!” he gasped from the pain, sobbing more while his head tried to follow the movement for it not to hurt too much: “Yes, you… You did!”

As if this was enough, the Queen slowly let go of his ear… And instead, let her hand wander on his face, stroking it with affection. Her expression turned mother-like again and she tilted her head to the side, staring at him with tenderness.

What the Hell was going on…? Snatcher couldn’t move, paralyzed as he felt her sharp claws caressing his cheek, the only movements coming from him being shivers. That only reminded him of that time in the cellar… That time where she had frozen his right eye…

-“You look so much like him…” was her next sentence and the expression on her face turned to some sort of nostalgia, one that the previous ghost really, really didn’t like: “Is it why you’re trying to run away so bad?” she then asked with a lower tone, her hand suddenly tensing on his cheek.

Oh no. Oh no, Snatcher knew exactly this intonation, and this wasn’t good in the slightest. And just like he had thought…

-“Why do I bother?” added the Queen, her features hardening from what seemed to be both anger and frustration: “What if you’re just like him? Ready to leave for someone else, abandoning me and leaving me forever?”

Snatcher’s eyes widened as the gears in his mind turned and turned and turned- until he was starting to understand what was going on. Vanessa was in fact trying to-

-“Maybe you’re not worth my help,” she concluded, coldly, her eyes soon turning to daggers, just like they had been hundreds of years ago.

The Queen was seeing him as a kid who needed guidance, someone she could take care of in her own sick way, and the reason for that had probably to do with his appearance. She was mistaking him as a child who looked like her old lover, a child she could teach how to behave, a child she could control… A child who could fill the hole in her cold, dead heart.

And this was just terrifying- though this was nothing compared to what the former shade felt as he saw her lifting her clawed hand up, ready to end his life once and for all. Oh no. Oh no. No, no, no, no-!

-“W-wait!” he shouted with a loud, panicked voice, hoping the Queen would stop- even if just for a second. Snatcher had to say something, anything! His life depended on the words he would use, literally. Any mistake, any wrong sentence, and this would be over for him.

He had experienced it once, and this was more than enough.

To his greatest relief, the shadowy monster stopped, her motion interrupted as she watched him intently- he could tell she was waiting for what he had to say. This was his chance, his only chance.

-“I-I don’t know w-who you’re talking about,” he lied, his voice trembling and his chest heaving up and down from how scared he was: “I-I’m sorry for trying to leave, I was…” he gulped down, his eyes fixed on the hand that had been so close to killing him again: “I was scared. I’m… I don’t know better, I need…” he continued, trying to find what she wanted to hear. But would she believe him…? There was only one way to find out.

-“I n-need guidance,” he gulped down again, afraid of Vanessa’s reaction to his words. But then again, what other choice did he have in a situation like this ? “I… You know best, and I… I’m just a child. I… I know nothing.”

His lower lip was trembling as he stared at Vanessa, his body trembling. What was she going to do after that? Would she listen to him, or would she kill him just like she had years ago? The suspense was unbearable… If she didn’t end his life first, then his heart would do the job just fine by pounding more than what his body could handle. And after a few seconds, ones that had seemed like hours, days, no, centuries to Snatcher… Vanessa lowered her hand slowly, a tender and yet sick smile taking place on her features again. A few giggles left her mouth, but the child knew that they were nothing but poison.

No matter how human Vanessa seemed to behave sometimes… It was impossible for him to forget what she had done to Subcon, what she had done to the village, what she had done to its inhabitants and… What she had done to him.

-“Oooh…” she cooed affectionately, and while Snatcher hated that sound… He felt safer. Apparently… Apparently his words had worked enough to touch the Queen which, in his situation, was more than anything he could have asked for.

-“How cute,” she mused to herself, before focusing her attention on the former ghost once more: “Perhaps you’re not entirely like him… Maybe I could teach you how to be a suitable heir to the throne,” she told him, before adding in a lower voice, almost to herself: “And I’ll make sure to turn you into the perfect prince, unlike him.”

Each of her last words sounded like venom on her tongue, like she was sickened just by mentioning his old self. Now, her resentment was now fully apparent and Snatcher was more than relieved to know she hadn’t put two and two together about who he really was… Otherwise, he was certain that this icy, clawed hand would have ended his life without even giving him the chance to save himself.

His thoughts were interrupted as he saw her hand hovering above his trapped feet… And suddenly, the ice turned to snow, finally giving him the possibility to crawl away. However, the moment he tried to pull his feet away, an acute pain instantly stopped him, making him cry out: his ankle was still very much broken. The Queen seemed to notice this and she covered her mouth in a way that lacked sincerity.

She was just playing the role of the perfect Princess, reacting like the social rules used to dictate her behaviour in public- but now, whether it was out of habit or because she actually wanted to act this way, Snatcher just loathed her even more. Oh, how he wanted to put an end to her life, once and for all, to finish what he had never had the courage to do.

This needed to be done if he wanted Subcon to be safe someday, perfectly safe-

-“Don’t worry,” she told him softly, trying to reassure him like one would try with a scared animal. But the former ghost was anything but a scared pet, and this only terrified him even more. She extended her arms to him, as if she wanted to pick him up- the motion made Snatcher panic once more and he tried to crawl away again. However, despite what his survival instincts were urging him to do… All he could do was to stop, the pain preventing him from fleeing what seemed to be inevitable now. Not listening to his sobs, to his scared whimpers, the Queen lost no time in picking him up like one would do to a kid-

But that was what he had become, right? A useless, powerless kid, unable to save his friends, not even able to save himself! Rage fuelled him again, but not against Vanessa. This time, he was furious at himself, furious for being so weak, furious for not being capable of defending himself- he could do nothing, nothing but just wait for it to end.

What other choice did he have in his condition? He couldn’t run, couldn’t fight Vanessa, couldn’t wait for his friends to come and save him! From what had happened with the Time Piece, he had no idea if they had survived, and if the bow-wearing kid hadn’t found a way to escape the ice prison Vanessa had built around her, then… Then she was most likely dead.

This was the worst case scenario of this whole situation. More tears left his eyes, wetting his cheeks even more, stinging the places where his previous tears had frozen, had burnt his skin- all he could feel was fear and despair.

The joyful Queen readjusted her grip on him and held him like a toddler in her arms, ignoring his sobs and his trembling. No, on the contrary, she seemed like she was voluntarily not paying attention to them, only focusing in the beautiful and perfect reality she thought she was living in.

-“There we go, there we go,” she patted his back and, to Snatcher’s greatest horror, she started to walk towards the door leading to the hallway again.

Where was she taking him…?

As if she had guessed his thoughts, she merely smiled happily, laughing again with that awful giggle of hers:

-“Aw, don’t worry,” she tried to reassure him again: “A young prince like you could use some rest after hurting yourself like that,” she explained, before smiling again: “Luckily, I have a spare room for you!”

The former ghost’s mind was soon plagued by confusion. A spare room? He didn’t remember such a thing when he used to live in the mano- but then, it hit him. There was indeed a spare room in this cursed place.

The nursery they had commissioned for the child they eventually never had. And Vanessa was taking him there.

This was a pure nightmare… A nightmare Snatcher wouldn’t be able to escape that easily.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

Well, someone is going to have a good nap in a perfectly not scary nursery :)

I hope you liked this chapter, thank you so much for your likes and reblogs (also I read your tag and aaaAAAH THANK YOU) !

=> Chapter 23

[flooffybits]

Hands Off

Idol: Kim Bora (Dreamcatcher)

Request: Yep

Anon: Hello there! Can I request a scenario with DC’s Sua where the group is doing like a fan sign out in the public but one fan tried to like take Sua away? Her gf (who’s a member also) comes to the rescue and defends Sua maybe doing karate or smthing? Then the fans are like woah and praise the reader? If you arent comforting with anything feel free to change anything :) Sorry if its confusing and thank you for taking the time to read this. Hope you have a good day/night :))

Author’s note: after reading this, I actually found the way this was worded really adorable. I hope you enjoy!

“Jiu unnie!”

The loud chatter inside the van resonated inside and all the girls were laughing as Yoohyeon tried to push Bora off of her before she could pour her drink on the younger girl.

She wasn’t technically planning on doing so, but the dancer was always so keen on messing with her younger members just for fun. Their expressions were always so amusing, so she would tease them endlessly except for you and Yubin.

Yubin was very rarely teased because she knew that the rapper barely reacted to her advances. But on the rare days that she got something out of the younger girl, she won’t hesitate on targeting her for the whole day, if possible.

You, on the other hand, she could never tease in the same manner as the rest of the girls. Being her precious girlfriend, even though she was the shortest in the group, she would never let anything too bad happen to you even when you’ve assured her that you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.

“Y/n, make her stop!” The tallest whined and you giggled while looking at your girlfriend, who was too busy trying to avoid Yoohyeon’s hands and then proceeding to repeat her previous actions.

Laughing, you shook your head and then gently nudged Bora to catch her attention while Minji looked thankful that the chaos was alleviated, even just a bit, because right after, Gahyeon’s screaming echoed inside when Siyeon dropped a plastic roach on her lap.

Bora’s grin softened when she met your eyes and her arms quickly went around your waist while you press a kiss to the top of her head and then nuzzle into her. “You have to stop bullying Yoohyeon so much.” You chuckle while she presses a kiss against your collarbone. “It’s just so fun.” She replied playfully and you smile before pinching her cheek.

“I know I said to make her stop, but don’t be gross in front of me.” The girl said while scrunching her nose in false disgust. You raise a brow at her and Bora grins devilishly. “Would you rather she keeps teasing you?”

That shut her up as the rest of your friends laughed at the pouting girl. But it wouldn’t take you five minutes before someone started screaming again.

You were just happy you weren’t between your girlfriend and Siyeon.

..

Arriving at the venue, you could already see the amount of people that were waiting for you and excitement coursed through you veins. No matter how many times you’ve gone through fansigns, it was always leaving you with a giddy feeling to be able to meet and interact with fans.

Bora could already tell as you began to bounce on the balls of your feet that you were more than ready to see everyone. It made her heart melt at such an adorable sight. Despite it being years, you were always full of childlike glee whenever you were supposed to be in front of everyone. It made her fall for you more than she already did.

Due to her staring, Siyeon snorted before playfully bumping her shoulder. “Be careful or else you’ll catch flies.” She teased and Handong chuckled next to her. “Stop staring or else she just might melt.”

Even with that, the dancer couldn’t get rid of the smile that was on her face as she watched you happily conversing with Yubin and Gahyeon. The four of you, along with Yoohyeon, always got along well for some reason but none of the other girls questioned it after a while, having gotten used to your closeness and assuming it was because you were the maknae line.

Though Bora uses it to poke some fun in you by pretending to be jealous. She loved it when you showered her with compliments and affection.

“Come on, they’re all waitting for us.” Yoohyeon was already grabbing the leader’s hand and waving at everyone to follow, where you didn’t even hesitate and ran after them, latching onto the taller girl as Bora strolled her way over.

When she was close enough, her arms snaked easily around your waist and pulled you from the pair. “Come on, stick close to me.” She whispered softly in your ear before you grinned at her and pulled her closer, nuzzling her hair.

It would have been worrisome, but everyone knew how affectionate you were with each other and the other members. It was what made people believe that you were together.

If they only knew.

Once you were all lined up, fans were allowed to come closer and greeted each of you respectfully.

It was amusing to watch all of you together. Instead of being more composed, the unnie line held the most energy as they greeted fans and joked around whilst the maknae line spoke happily with fans.

At some point, you pointed to a certain fan that was holding up some sort of meme, making you laugh while Yubin grinned and walked over to retrieve it. Upon closer inspection, your laughter only worsened as you grabbed onto the younger woman’s arm to steady yourself. “Dami, you’re a legend.” You told her while she playfully fanned herself.

Bora watched from her place and grinned before she was pulling Siyeon closer to herself and them posing playfully for the fan she was talking to.

While everyone was busy and that it was a public space, people failed to catch the sudden fan that had approached the group and grabbed the dancer by the wrist, taking her away from the scene.

But luckily, at that moment, you had actually gone and checked to see how your girlfriend was doing, catching the scene just in time.

While the others looked surprised by the sudden turn of events, the look of panic on your girlfriend’s face made you quickly dash over to the man, your arm looping around his before locking it behind his back and then forcing him down to his knees. Your other arm grabbed the other to restrain him from moving any further, successfully pinning him to the ground just in case he had anything that might hurt anyone.

Bora, who stood still in surprise, stared wide eyed as you handled the fan until security came to take him away. And just like everyone else present, they were all dumbfounded by your sudden actions, phones whipped out and recording the whole ordeal.

The rest of your members rushed to your girlfriend, asking her if she was okay while Siyeon and Gahyeon were checking on you in case you had gotten injured, but you assured them that you were perfectly fine as they helped you to your feet, a new source of adrenaline running through your veins before you quickly looked to Bora, to see if she was hurt or not.

As soon as you were within arms reach, she had held onto you, trembling as you ran your fingers through her hair in attempt to comfort her. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. I got you.” You whisper, pressing kisses to her temple until she had calmed down.

This wasn’t something she thought would happen to her. With the years you’ve all been performing and meeting fans, she just didn’t think that someone would be capable of doing something extreme like that. And in broad daylight, nonetheless.

“I’m okay.” Your girlfriend mumbled against your chest, her body relaxing in the familiarity of your own. Her eyes closed briefly as she inhaled deeply, your scent helping in calming her nerves more. “Are you sure? We can go home.”

Minji looked especially worried as she asked for their manager if it were possible to cancel the event, but Bora had stopped her in time, reassuring everyone that she was okay and even cracking a smile. “I’m okay! Y/n saved me, anyway!”

But even when you all went with the fansign, fans were much more careful, noticing the way your girlfriend absolutely refused to leave your side, either holding your hand or arm, or needing your arm around her. They could all see she was still shaken up despite the smile on her face and how she tried to act like her usual chirpy self.

When it was all over, you had thanked your fans and apologized for the trouble, to which, they brushed off by stating that it was not your fault and even thanked you.

So on the way to the dorm, the girls did their best to keep the atmosphere as comfortable as possible for your girlfriend, pretending as though the incident didn’t happen, but their worries were clear in their eyes.

“Unnie, a fan gave me and Yoohyeon some snacks.” Handong called out while she rummaged through a paper bag and revealed the variety of snacks inside. “Oh, good. We don’t have to worry about going to the store.” Yubin commented while Siyeon scrunched her brows together.

“Are you sure? I feel like we need more.” She said while pretending to inspect the items, silently stealing one of the packs and then Bora grinned as she followed suit. “Yeah, I feel like this isn’t enough.” She said nonchalantly while she hid a can of pringles away.

You playfully shake your head at their actions while Gahyeon grimaced when she remembered how they both stole some of her snacks that she’d gotten as a prize from one of the shows you’ve been on.

“Jiu unnie, you know what’s gonna happen.” You pipe up and the leader sighs, though there is a fondness in her eyes as she crosses her arms. “Okay, fine. We’ll stop by the store to buy what we need.” She says, because aside from lifting everyone’s mood, she really couldn’t deny her members much when they asked for something.

So by the time you had all gotten to the dorm, there were snacks piled up in the kitchen and ice cream was being placed inside the fridge.

When you went to get changed in more comfortable clothing, your girlfriend quietly came into the room, and once you saw her, you flash her a smile before instantly opening your arms out to her. She’s back in your embrace after a few steps and then pecking your lips. “You know, I didn’t get to thank you for earlier.” She says lightly while her fingers trace the collar of your shirt.

“I was protecting you.” You tell her as she loops her arms around your neck instead, bringing your forehead down against her own. “You did. And everyone won’t stop talking about it.” She informs you, seeing all the posts online and the video of you when you restrained the man.

“Everyone is gushing about how super cool and amazing you are for saving me like that.” She adds in and one hand moves to cradle your cheek. “They’re right about you being cool. But honestly, I didn’t know that you could do something like that.” She says softly while you chuckle and rest your hands on her hips.

After the earlier scare, she was much more calm now thanks to everyone. But she had to thank you, the most. You had basically stuck your life on the line just for her, and knowing that fact just made her feel like she could melt into a puddle because of how far you were willing to keep her safe.

“Well, I had to be careful so self-defense became a must. Good thing I took lessons.” You tell her before she brushed your hair away so she could see your eyes better. “Well, they may have been right, but…” She smiles softly before leaning closer to brush her lips against yours.

“They don’t know just how amazing you really are.”

She doesn’t wait for you to reply before she’s fully pressing your lips together, showing you just how grateful she truly was.

[fauxfables]

“the woman who has his damndelion heart" Oh my god this was amazing! So cute . I loved it so much. Is there going to be a next part?

Aww hun my heart is bursting from your kind words, thank you so much! I don’t think I’m going to write a part III anytime soon since I had a bit of difficulty writing part II haha … maybe sometime in the future I will pick up the story but who knows. I will, however, leave you with this little blurb I had written as part of the series but never actually put it into the story. I’d imagine it fit right in between Braids and Excuses! 

Catnap 💤

When hefinds you on the couch, a few hours later, reading your anatomy textbook, hesighs from relief at the familiar sight (and the peace and quiet). Anne hadgraciously offered to shift the reunion to the backyard to give you a quietplace to study even though you had originally asked to go the library for a fewhours. The clangs of glasses echoed slightly from outside, but you didn’t seemto mind, lost in your own world from the way you hadn’t noticed Harry ploppinghimself next to you, laying his head on your comfortable shoulder whilecrossing his arms in an exhausted sigh.

“Love?”  

Yourefused to indulge him, determined to finish this week’s chapter.

“Pet?” 

The feelingof his curls rubbed sweetly against your neck as he peered up to look at you(damn him).

“Muppet?”

“Harry!” yousnapped stretching his name in annoyance. “Jus’ give me a sec.” You took a deepbreath to calm yourself as you flipped a page of your book roughly, eyes stillconcentrating on your readings. 

“Hmm,” a familiaraccusing tone surfaced in his groggy voice, “someone’s gettin’ snippy…”

His comment wasignored once again, but he didn’t mind. He felt quite smug at the moment. Theever so patient Y/N had crumbled slightly in the depths of his over-eagerfamily (despite him triggering the hindrance).

“She lasted longer than anyone,” Harry thought tohimself, eyes grazing over the complicated words of her book. His eyes droppedslightly, as a deep wave of exhaustion over took him. He gazed over to hisfamily through the glassed doors, his sister was holding Jamie in her arms andhe was grateful for the moment of peace without the little one. He loved her tobits of course, but she exhausted the wits out of him. He closed his eyes,finally, as a deep slumber over took his body.

⭐

You were just aboutdone your chapter when you heard a low grumble resonate in your right ear as a lean tattooed arm carelessly wraps itself around your stomach knocking the book slightly that was secured on your lap.

“Son of a bi—” Yourharmful idiom halts at the cold nose that sinks deeper into your neck.

You peer down athim, chest rising and falling steadily, eyes closed, as his usual dimples aretucked away from his puckered lips. You swear this boy will be the end of youfrom how positively adorable he was. I mean, how dare he interrupt yourstudying with grabby hands and an inkling for a cuddle? You tried to be angrywith him (as it was your default emotion whenever he was like this), for if youever actually gave in to the flutter in your stomach, you’d be a goner forsure. 

This whole reunionwas actually quite frustrating to say the least. It was borderline torture towatch him play with little Jamie all day, sparking fantasies of him andyou parenting a child of your own. And just about everyone gave you subtlehints about the two of you. His aunt practically gave you a speech aboutHarry’s ideal woman, a picture perfect description of the qualities you had(coincidentally) possessed. You should have been flattered, but it justseemed so cruel to daydream about stuff like that. Because as much as youlike to fantasize about being Harry’s one and only, you understood the world hethrives in – a grandiose one with exhilarating lifestyles of fame and beauty. 

You’ve always enjoyed being the person he’d go to when he’d want a break fromit all, but sometimes you wondered what it would be like to reassure him with a soft kiss to his lips instead of one to his cheek. Granted, you were never a jealous person, but it wasonly natural for the green eyed monster to surface as you imagine the luckywoman who would be pampered by Harry’s gentle heart.

But maybe, justmaybe, you can indulge yourself just this once. 

Your head carefully dropped tothe curly one on your shoulder, at the same time closing your book and movingit promptly to the side. You had no idea what to do with your now empty hands,contemplating their placement on the arm hooked around your stomach. Aware youwere taking huge liberties, you wrapped your right arm around his strongshoulders pulling him closer and tugging your feet in under you as you restedyour crunched knees on his lap. You settled yourself, wriggling a bitinto a comfortable position. 

By now, his head moved slightly from your shoulderto the skin of your collarbone, and you could feel his steady breathing as youembraced his warmth. He smelt deliciously good too, there was biologybehind that (with pheromones and all), but that had not stopped you fromdigging your nose in his hair as you took a deep breath. A soft whine came fromhim as his left arm moved around your back and your head snapped up.

He was awake!

You lowered yourgaze to him, but he grumbled and almost pouted. You sighed in content; he wasonly reacting to your warmth. Harry quietened finally as you began to doze offfrom his steady breathing.

“Only for a couple of minutes,” you thought, “thenI’ll get back to studying and he wouldn’t know a thing.”

⭐                                                  

Gemma was justabout done with Jamie now. She tried her best to get her into a deep slumber,but the child was restless, fidgeting in her arms and whining into her neck.Gemma padded inside the house then, carrying Jamie to her crib before sheskidded into a halt when she saw her brother and her friend having a bit of a catnap on the couch. 

Youwere both cocooned towards each other, your right arm wound around hisshoulder, the other resting on his right arm that had a strong grip on yourupper thigh which had been pulled further onto his lap. Harry’s face was hiddenbehind his hair as his left cheek rested on your chest, your small frame, tinyenough for his left hand to wrap around your back and reach around to the skinof your stomach.

“He always liked being the littlespoon,” Gemma thought to herself, fondly gazing at the sight. Shecontemplated on waking you both, but Jamie had an idea off her own as shescrambled out of her arms suddenly and dashed towards the sleeping Harry. “Ay,come back here!” she harshly whispered, following after the giggling child.

Your right cheekwas pressing oh so comfortably on the couch when a sudden sharp jab to your jawcaused your teeth to chatter roughly at the impact. Your eyes snapped opensearching for the perpetrator as you groan and grumble from distress. 

“Ow,” youmoaned, finding Harry (his hair sticking up in random order) sitting up asalert ever, trying his best to settle little Jamie on his chest as she yawnedfrom exhaustion.  

You grumbled loudly this time gaining his attention as your eyessquinted angrily at Harry mentally sending “youhit me ya jackass” with your stare. Harry took in your sleepy state, eyes puffy fromthe rude awakening, your face still burrowed into the cushion. Thoughts ofHarry kissing away your pouty lip and furrowed brows struck lightening throughhis body as he relished in your adorable frown. 

“Fook I’m sorry love, c‘mere.”He murmured slouching on the couch next to you and shifting Jamie’s head fromhis left shoulder to his right so he could get a better look at you.

You hissed as hebrought his hand to your jaw, moaning about his clumsy nature. “Shh, would yeh?Wanna make sure s’not broken.”

You snorted as yourhands went to rub the sleep from your eyes, “It’s not,” you confirmed, “if mytemporomandibular joint was dislocated I wouldn’t be able to talk right now.”Harry nodded at your complex words, knowing full well it wasn’t broken. He was just itching to feel your smooth skin on his fingertips. 

He glanced from hisinspection on your chin to your eyes, noticing how they fluttered shut due tohis touch, but before he could wipe the strand that had fallen onto your cheek;he was interrupted by his sister offering him a bag of ice with a knowing smirkbefore she walked off to quiet the guests that have now entered the house from thebackyard.  

And in the span of a few seconds, Harry’s intimate moment with you had been ruined as the rest of his familyjoined the both of you in the living room. You were awake then, gingerlyholding the ice pack on your chin as you chatted about recipes with hisrelatives. 

“Y/N,” he rasps quietly to you leaning into your shoulder a tad,“m’really glad yeh came.”

His confessioncaught you off guard, not from his words, but from a hidden emotion behind itthat you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His eyes were gleaming as it gazedinto yours, and because you’ve turned your head towards him you were nearlynose to nose in your proximity. Your face flushed and there was a stir in yourbelly, but you kept your composure and petted the hand that was squeezing yourlower thigh. 

“Me too,” you beamed, “even if your family is a little much attimes,” you chuckled quietly with him.

“I told yeh kitten,” he rasps with a grin. And as the laughter ceasedbetween the two of you, he indulges himself - just this once - as he kisses the tip of your nose and you scrunched yourface in retaliation. 

[needsmoretea]

[VICYUU FIC RECS]

Apologies in advance for clogging up your dash with the super long post. I’ve been meaning to do a YOI fic recs list since, like, forever, but then college kicked my ass, which is why it’s taken me so long to get this up. Hopefully you’ll come across something you haven’t read before, and please leave a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed it! 

A Glide In Your Step by Yuu-chii, complete, angst, 10k

Ah, Yuuri thinks as his skates touch down on the ice, and even as Yuuko watches him it’s the weight of Viktor’s eyes he feels on his shoulder blades, I’m not ready to let this go.

A Lesson in Wanting by awesometinyhumanbeing, complete, au, 12k

"He's so beautiful, Chris," he says it almost like a prayer. "He's beautiful and I was a fool, and I wish I didn't have to feel so guilty about loving him." The understanding that dawns in Chistophe's eyes is at once a relief and a heartache. "Oh, Victor," he says, and the smile he gives him is the smallest and saddest Victor has ever seen him give. (Or, alternatively: Victor ties himself into a knot known as Katsuki Yuuri—in more ways than one—and they navigate their way to each other in a series of fits and starts, miscommunication, and Herculean pining.)

Dancing Daffodils by grayclouds, ongoing, au, 55k

"As Love gently wipes away the tears that trail down his cheeks something within Victor quakes, its tremors resonating throughout his entire being like a deafening echo. He is in the arms of a god." A god falls for a man.

Details by Robotsquid, complete, nsfw, 3.2k

Victor is a very detail-oriented person. He always notices the little things about Yuuri.

Feast When You Can by autoeuphoric, complete, nsfw, 3.2k

At twenty-four, Yuuri has a lot of things most people don’t. Custom-made ice skates, chronic knee pain, over 8,000 instagram followers. Corporate sponsors, a wikipedia page, a modest but colorful collection of fanfiction written about him. But he’s never had a sex life before.

From the Moon by butterbeerbitch, complete, nsfw, 4.8k

Or that one time Victor finds out why Yuuri has never let him inside his bedroom because....well, we all know why…

Here On the Roof of the World by jibrailis, complete, humour, 2k

Figure skaters are such crybabies.

I Think I May Have Loved You First by perennials, complete, 1.3k

Here are the facts: Yuuri is drunk. Viktor is not. Yuuri is riding an alcohol-induced high so far up above the clouds he cannot even begin to comprehend the weight of his actions back in the human realm. Viktor is falling in love.

Kibitzing by euphemisms, complete, 4.3k

Some people think that Viktor Nikiforov could have done a lot better than Yuuri Katsuki. Some people should learn to keep their opinions to themselves.

Lay Us Down (We’re In Love) by chromyrose, complete, 4.8k

He meets me where I am. It was Viktor's love that taught Yuuri how to love himself.

Lie to Make Me Like You by cityboys, complete, au, 80k

It’s become a game, of sorts, to anyone privy to the fact that the pattern exists in the first place: ask Victor out at the beginning of the month, date for however many days, and wait for the end to come and for Victor to say, always: I couldn’t fall in love with you. Let’s break up. Or, Victor is a retired actor looking for love, and Yuuri happens to be the (un)fortunate soul to unwittingly ask him out at the beginning of the month. Except relationships don't come with a script, and it's much harder understanding love than roles.

Naturally Yours by chellethewriter, complete (part 4 of 4), 7.3k

Yuuri has never considered himself a “natural” at any particular activity. Almost nothing comes easily to him. Learning to land a jump, dropping unwanted weight, stifling his own overwhelming, crushing anxiety-- all of those things have cost him years and years of tedious practice and rehearsal… have battered him with rigid mountains of frustration and failure. Viktor’s smiles are fluid, passionate, overpowering -- worth more than money, worth more than anything that Yuuri could possibly offer. They’re worth all the stars in the sky and everything beyond. But he gives them to Yuuri freely, easily, every day. Viktor’s love is the steadfast “almost” standing between Yuuri and a formidable “nothing.” (In other words, Yuuri attempts to understand how and why his idol came to reciprocate his feelings.)

Of Glass and Gold by smudgesofink, complete, angst, 4.4k

“Just hear me out,” Yuuri presses. He can feel heat burning behind his eyes and he grits his teeth, fighting back the tears. If he cries now, Victor will be too occupied with comforting him to actually pay attention to what he’s saying. “I want you to be happy.” “I am,” Victor grounds out, confused and hurt. “I’m happy with you. What even gave you the idea that I’m not?" “Because I’m never going to win gold!” Yuuri shouts. His words echo like a gunshot, and the silence that follows it is haunting. (In which Victor is gold--magnificent, breathtaking, brilliant--and Yuuri is glass--transparent, thin, breakable.)

Pieces On a Board by Lavender_Showers, complete, character study, 1.3k

In the Rostelecom Cup, JJ knew that Yuuri Katsuki was not a king after watching his free skate. Now, in the Grand Prix Finals, JJ knew that his observation about Yuuri wasn’t wrong. Yuuri wasn’t a king.

Praise Please by surveycorpsjean, nsfw, complete, 5.2k

Viktor is a good coach. Strict, talented. But Viktor is kind. He gives praise like a waterfall, overflowing and loud and it makes Yuuri drown.

Prismatic by seventhswan, complete, fluff, 2.5k

“Ne, ne, Yuuuuri,” Victor says, clearly enjoying himself, “so it’s like that, is it?” It’s like nothing, Yuri thinks furiously, except he can’t actually say it because it’s exactly like that. The back of his neck is sweating. He feels as though it’s written on his forehead in big neon letters, KATSUKI YURI IS TOTALLY INTO EVERY WEIRD THING VICTOR NIKIFOROV DOES.

Show Him What He's Missing by airspaniel and dance_across, complete, nsfw, 10k

A good friend would get Yuuri some pants. A good friend would let Yuuri take a second to get dressed and compose himself after getting walked in on like that. But Phichit isn’t a good friend; Phichit is Yuuri’s best friend.

Some Things Require Leaving by idrilka, complete (part 1 of 3), 3k

It still amazes Victor, how much one person can feel like home. (Or: On leaving and returning.)

Specks of Silver In the Evening Sky by Winchilsea, complete, 3.9k

Loneliness compels you to get a dog, not wipe drool from the corner of a stranger’s mouth with your own thumb. (Or: Viktor's kink is taking care of Yuuri.)

The Clavicle-Snapped Wish by astoryaboutwar, complete, fluff, 6.5k

The sun glints off their twin gold bands, the band strikes up their first dance, and together, they follow each other into the rest of their lives. (Or: the wedding fic fix we all need.)

Unimaginable by emilyenrose, complete, time travel, 4.8k

Sixteen year old Victor spontaneously travels to the future, where he's... retired? And married?

With a Boy Like That It’s Serious by Kevystel, complete, 2.1k

‘I’m dating Viktor,’ Yuuri says, nervous despite himself. ‘Seriously?’ Yurio demands. ‘I thought the two of you were already married.’

Viktor Nikiforov and Katsuki Yuuri are an item. The world reacts.

With the Engine Inside by RC_McLachlan, nsfw, complete, 2k

Victor brought this on himself.

And of course, the omegaverse recs get a section all of its own because I read way too much of it. As ever, enjoy. <3

A Silhouette of Three by Anna (artic_grey), complete, hurt/comfort, 21k

Yuuri and Viktor are aiming for a third consecutive Grand Prix gold as the new skating season rolls around. Halfway through the qualifiers, however, Yuuri realises that he's pregnant. He can either tell Viktor, who he knows would freak out and demand that he withdraw from the Grand Prix, or he can keep his mouth shut, keep his mate at bay, and win the gold that he's worked so hard for. Easier said than done.

Be the salt on your skin by alykapedia, complete, 5+1 things, 2.2k

Yuuri’s heat arrives two weeks after Viktor shows up. (Or: the five times Katsuki Yuuri spent his heats alone, and the one time he didn't (and never would again).)

Calm After the Storm by garbage_dono, complete, 10k

Yuuri and Victor, newly bonded, prepare to become new parents.

Catch me when I start to fall for you by lazulisong, complete, 2.9k

It's really bad, worse than even meeting a beautiful boy at a stuffy banquet and getting a mouth and nose full of his scent and then that beautiful boy disappearing so thoroughly that Victor couldn't even chase after him. Victor was going to watch that beautiful boy win silver after silver, hundredths of a point behind Victor, and parade his gold medals around him. Look at me, look at me, look how strong and beautiful I am. Let me be strong and beautiful for you.

My Name On Your Lips by feelslikefire, ongoing, au, 89k

Yuuri Katsuki has been betrothed to the High King's son, Victor, since he was just a child; furthermore, as an omega, he's forbidden from practicing magic in combat. For years, he's been able to put off the former because the Prince was traveling abroad, and gotten around the latter by practicing with his mentor in secret. Now Victor Nikiforov has finally returned home, and Yuuri is being summoned to the capital for their wedding. He needs a plan to put off marriage long enough to find a way to break the betrothal, while keeping his practicing from being discovered. If only the Prince didn't have other ideas. (Or, the swords-and-sorcery arranged marriage AU.)

Want by applecheeked, complete, nsfw, 0.6k

On nights like this, when he’s cold and alone and wants nothing more than to fuck the heat out of Yuuri, Viktor imagines.

[lotus-protector-official]

“The Red Bone Demon…..how did this transpire?”

He’s quite tense, almost horrified…

[lotus-protector-official]

“Mo...Mo (  @crossed-worlds )  has disappeared?!”

He closes his eyes, searching for his energy, somewhere out there.

[lotus-protector-official]

“What in heaven’s name is happening with Red Son and Sun Wukong? And what’s this about- outfits?”

[lotus-protector-official]

“If the person who stole Red’s phone is a demon, which I am sure they are- I will not hesitate to cut them down at the nearest opportunity. I just have to wait until their instincts call to them and they attack some village or town.”

[lotus-protector-official]

He is looking away from Ao Lie/Bai Longma.

[lotus-protector-official]

(prev) That silence from Iron Fan was quite loud and he knew all too well what it meant. So he decided not to bring it up.

“Noted. Thank you.”

[lotus-protector-official]

@stxnekxng @crossed-worlds

“You simians will go to a doctor or so help me heaven.”

[lotus-protector-official]

“How does one not know what a day of birth is??”

[lotus-protector-official]

“I meant that I slept about eight hours every day...for six days. I apologise- I didn’t make that clear.”

[lotus-protector-official]

“Your lack of respect may be the death of you, Red Son.”