#though you’re still going to be confused as to why the last fight resembles Zero at the end of drakengard 3 but it’s still 2B but

[2bschinmole]

Dear Final Fantasy XIV and Drakennier fans:

I find it hilarious how often I either see someone in chat in the Nier alliance raids ask if playing the drakennier series will clear up any confusion from the mess that is the plot/lore of the alliance raids and myself and two to three other nier fans chime in to say that no, no it doesn’t.

#Yoko Taro just wanted to fuck with us but since when does he not? #and like real answer is you’ll have just more ability to identify things like… #oh! that’s a seed of destruction #and finding the bullet hell sections of the raids to be not that hellish #though you’re still going to be confused as to why the last fight resembles Zero at the end of drakengard 3 but it’s still 2B but #the theme that plays is Kainé #nier automata #nier #YoRHa dark appocolypse #ffxiv #it’s a crossover episode #drakengard #just gamer things

[ehovocrown]

Ground Zero

Author: ehovocrown

Pairing: Alpha Team (Special Ops) Captain Byun Baekhyun x Air Force Lieutenant Reader

Genre: Special Forces!AU, Angst

Warnings: Cursing, slight sexual content, violence, mention and use of combat weapons

Author’s Note: Hi there! this is the first one shot that i’m posting on this account, it’s been collecting dust on my notes app so i thought maybe it finally deserves to see the light of day. :’)

Word Count: 2,017 words

—

Smoke bombs & gunshots were his norm, weaving through the constant precipitation of bullets as he fought every waking day for freedom, honour, and protection. Meanwhile for her? The skies were her territory, unlike him who was totally grounded on soil, she was the captain of the skies. Flying, fighting, and pursuing freedom in the air. But there was one thing that they had in common, and it was that every waking day was a fight for survival.

—

[Spring 2017 - D-1 to special ops]

“Operation failed. Our troops and allies are all dead. ARE YOU NOT GOING TO FOCUS?!” Captain of the Special Ops Unit Byun Baekhyun’s booming voice resonated through the warehouse, frustration and anger clearly evident in his features.

“I’m sorry Captain!” The youngest soldier replied, earning him multiple sighs of exasperation from his team followed by a whirling sound and sudden gasps.

A knife, flying ever so closely by their captain’s head only to impale itself on the wooden panel behind him.

“Get your fucking boy scouts together Byun! Or maybe go the fuck home.” Captain Kim called out, snickering as he turned to the group of laughing soldiers behind him.

Baekhyun scoffed, turning around to pluck the combat knife from the panel. “If he keeps doing shit like this I might have to rebel again.” And with that he whirled the combat knife back towards its original owner, making sure with exact precision that it would end up on the wall between the laughing captain’s legs, right in between where it would hurt.

The snickering was definitely put to a halt, and both teams suddenly found their captains heading toward’s each other, hands balled into fists and ready to salvage their own pride.

But the fight never came, because just as they were about to deliver their first hit, Baekhyun felt the cold barrel of a glock against his temple.

“Break time’s over boys. Looks like the regiment has been going too easy on you for your troops to be playing around like this.”

The captain turned slightly towards his aggressor, only to lay his eyes on a lady, his lady, in her Air Force uniform, long hair cascading past her shoulders making it impossible for him to see her rank, or her name patch.

“Easy, do you even know how to use that?” Baekhyun taunted as he motioned towards the gun that was still pointed at him, the lieutenant raised a brow, smirking at the captain’s obvious arrogance.

“Looks like playtime is over for you, Byun.” The other long forgotten captain spoke, snickering once again at the sight of Byun Baekhyun who was currently at the mercy of the Air force pilot.

Captain Kim’s glory moments didn’t last long though, because his snarky remark earned him a kick from Y/N who clearly had both him and Baekhyun at her mercy.

The kick landed behind his knees, causing him to fall to the pavement, pride clearly shattered to pieces, ironically the same one that he was trying so hard to salvage just a few minutes ago.

“Play time is over for you too, take your squad back to your quarters or you will receive word on disciplinary orders tonight.” Y/N spoke simply, and Captain Kim wasted no time in leaving.

On the other hand though, the coldness of the barrel did nothing to aid Byun Baekhyun’s pride, deciding that he too was tired of being held hostage, the captain moved swiftly to snatch the gun from the lieutenant in front of him.

First, a grab on her wrist.

Second, his hand overpowering hers.

Third, a quick snatch of the weapon from her delicate hands.

And fourth? Turning the tables so that her back was now pressed against his chest, his arm keeping her restrained while his other hand dismantled the gun in front of her face.

“Do not, play with me like that ever again.” His voice was deep and hoarse as he whispered against her ear, “understood?”

Y/N simply rolled her eyes, scoffing at the captain’s sentiments.

“As if. Did I hurt your pride Captain? Angry because you didn’t get to dig your fist into your opponents smug face?” Her tone had the captain smirking in no time, turning to his men to subtly signal them their dismissal.

He watched them leave, now relieved that the eyes that were watching him and Y/N were gone.

“Lieutenant, i think you’d be falling for me in no time once you see me in combat.”

The lieutenant only scoffed, turning to face her lover the moment he released his hold on her.

“I think you’re wrong Captain.” She whispered, arms wrapping around his waist and her words ghosting against his lips due to their close proximity.

Personal space was now a foreign concept and neither one of them were willing to let go, not when they are so grateful that the both of them were able to see each other again.

“And why is that?” The captain hummed against his lover’s lips, his heart feeling fully content in her presence.

“Because, there will never be anything attractive about seeing you get hurt.”

Baekhyun only shrugged in reply, deciding that he has been patient long enough he took her lips into his, pressing a passionate kiss that dripped of longing and worry that his heart was unable to suppress as his lover went on her mission approximately 5 nights ago.

Her return felt like heaven to him, and he knew just as well as she did that this was the consequence of falling in love in the force. But neither one of them were willing to give up what they had, even if that meant living in a state of anxiety when one of them would get deployed.

———————-

Back in the captain’s quarters that night they found themselves tangled in sheets, bodies speaking not with a language of words but with passionate kisses and thrusts, of fingers that were intertwined so tightly that both their knuckles turned white, and of heavy breathing as their names escaped each others lips in pleasure.

For Baekhyun? Hearing his name on Y/N’s lips was his revival. In every day that he was deployed to the field he felt like half of him was already in the grave not knowing whether he would even make it out alive.

But here with her, with every passionate kiss, every loving and lustful touch, every mark that he left on the canvas that was her body, and as his name escaped her in sighs of pleasure, he knew that he was fully alive. He knew that his heart had every reason to keep on beating.

But for the lieutenant?, For Y/N, Baekhyun was her grounding force, her safe haven. He was home, and the captain of the sky barely made it home today but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

And as she embraced being on the receiving end of the captain’s every kiss, and every touch and everything else in between, she held on to him, flipping them over so that she could return the favour.

Her every touch left goosebumps on the captain’s skin, kissing the scar on his temple, down to the one on his chest, and the other on his hip. And with every passing second that she spent straddling him, she poured all her love onto him in ways that he could also feel.

And with a climax that ran through them more intensely than the wages of war, they both prayed to the heavens to not take this love away from them. Not when each other was the only form of sanity left for them to hold on to.

——————-

[Spring 2017 - Special Ops d-day]

“Promise me you’ll fight.” Y/N whispered as she worked on buttoning up the captain’s uniform.

“Promise me that you will do everything in your power to stay alive.” She placed his dog tag over his head watching as it landed on his chest.

“Promise me, that i will see you again and not just your tag being handed over.” The lieutenant stepped back, eyes still trained on the dog tag around her lover’s neck.

R.O.K. ARMY

Byun, Baekhyun

- 050692

Blood Type: O

“Captain Byun Baekhyun, promise me that you will come home.” And she raised her arm in a formal salute with utmost respect overflowing despite the tears that fell relentlessly down her face, and the Captain did the same.

And as they stood in his quarters with a silence that was as deafening as the aftermath of an exploded grenade, Byun Baekhyun spoke. Not with with words but with a kiss that conveyed everything that he wanted to say to the lieutenant who stood before him, I love you, until my heart stops beating, and maybe even then I’ll love you.

_________________

[5 years later]

“Mommy these flowers are pretty!” the little boy smiled as he eyed the bunch of roses in his hands. The roses that resembled the scar that sat on his father’s temple, and the same scar that sat on his.

“They really are, aren’t they Raiden?” Y/N smiled at the boy who was walking beside her, kneeling down so she could face the little boy better. “Should we give them to daddy?”

The little boy flashed a toothy smile as he nodded, never letting go of his mother’s hand.

“Mommy, where did i get this necklace?” The little boy asked in curiosity as he examined the silver tags around his neck.

Y/N smiled at her son, eyes welling with tears as she watched her little boy try and read the letters on the tags.

“Rai, you know that Daddy was a very brave man right?”

“Yes mommy!” Raiden smiled, to him Byun Baekhyun was a hero, like the avengers as he would like to call it.

“Well Rai, daddy used to wear that necklace whenever he would fight bad guys.”

“-Then why do I have it now?” the boy tilted his head, confusion evident on his innocent face. And in that moment it was as if the former lieutenant’s heart broke all over again, and as she suppressed the tears that were threatening to spill she looked at the picture of her lover. One that sat behind the glass window next to an empty urn that held nothing but an engraving of his name.

“When daddy had to fight for the last time, he asked uncle Sehun to give it to mommy.”

“-but why mommy?”

Y/N fell silent, how could she possibly explain to her little boy that it was because his father was not supposed to be identified incase he was killed on enemy grounds? How was she supposed to say that his father surrendered his tags because he knew that the operation was a suicide mission? How was she supposed to explain, that until the very end his father gave it his everything, but it wasn’t enough for him to be able to come home, and so he left his tags for the woman that he was no longer going to be able to come home to. His way of saying, I’m sorry, but i will always be here, and you will always be my home.

Taking a deep breath, the former lieutenant gathered her thoughts, “because daddy wanted you to remember him Raiden, that’s his way of saying that he will always be with you.”

The little boy nodded again, eyes still scanning the tags he wore before noticing the same ones that hung around his mother’s neck.

Examining both his father’s and mother’s necklaces, Raiden looked on with curiosity, “what does it say mommy?”

Y/N took both tags in her hand for her son to see.

R.O.K. ARMY

Byun, Baekhyun

- 050692

Blood Type: O

R.O.K. AIR FORCE

Y/L/N, Y/N

- 080514

Blood Type: _

“This is daddy’s name, and this is mommy’s name.” Y/N explained, and the little boy smiled with pride. Then she flipped the tags over, a new engraving, one that she had made shortly after Raiden came into her world.

To our son Raiden Byun, we will love you even after our hearts stop beating.

— end.

#exo #exowritersnet #byun baekhyun #baekhyun #baekhyun fanfic #exo au #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #exo angst #exo fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun scenario #juno writes #exo fanfiction #kpop angst #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #ltyhaven

[paper-mirio]

Decrescendo

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Summary: When making hero costumes, the job of a support company is to maximize the efficiency of a quirk while also making sure the hero is protected. However, a massive oversight is made when nobody considers the consequences of constant exposure to loud explosives.

Words: 4,782

Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of harmful accident, mentions of surgery, slight angst

A/N: I’d like to issue a major apology to @pawpaw-sev for taking a full year to write this. It’s finally here, and I hope you enjoy it. (I also peppered in hints of HOH!Midoriya, simply because I felt like it.)

"Tch, I get that you can't stand the old man, but at least give me a warning next time you pull some rebellious bullshit. You could've gotten us killed."

You took in a deep breath, willing down the words that threatened to spill out in anger. Not wanting to lash out at your boyfriend (since you knew that wouldn't result in anything pleasant), you steadied yourself and prepared to defend your actions for the third time that evening. The sight of Bakugou, focused on his phone and not even bothering to look at you when delivering the scathing comment, nearly made you snap. Having just sat through a lecture about holding responsibility and taking accountability for one's actions from a hero who seemed to do neither, you were reasonably on edge. Luckily, you'd managed to convince Endeavor you were being honest. You'd hoped your boyfriend would be just as willing to hear you out.

"It wasn't 'rebellious bullshit,'" you repeated, using air quotes. "I already told you, I didn't hear him give the order."

"Mhm, sure. Whatever you say."

It would seem he was not, in fact, willing to hear you out. You rolled your eyes. It wasn't as if his opinion mattered, anyway. He was only your boyfriend, the person you trusted with your heart.

"Let's just get back to campus, I need to go talk to Recovery Girl," you said before walking away. You'd only made it a few steps before being stopped by a hand on your shoulder. Bakugou stepped in front of you, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you up and down.

"What do you need to see her for?" he asked, the bite in his voice from before missing. "I didn't see you get hurt earlier. What happened?"

You paused, confused by his question, before recognizing the look in his eyes as concern. Giving him a teasing smirk, you placed your hand atop the one that rested on your shoulder, giving it a small pat. "Aww, are you worried about me?" you laughed. "I'm fine, Endeavor just wants me to check in with her to make sure nothing's seriously wrong and that I can keep doing work-studies without any issue."

Bakugou raised an eyebrow. "How the hell does that answer my question?"

You let out a sigh. "My ears? I told you I didn't hear his instructions earlier. And like you said, I could've gotten us killed."

He narrowed his eyes at you before letting his hand fall from your shoulder. Turning on his heel, he began walking away. “Fine,” he grumbled, “but don't take too long. We had this movie night planned for weeks now, and we’re gonna start without you if you’re late.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, placing your hand on your chest as you followed him. “Have you no loyalty, sir?” As you caught up to him, you made sure he saw you wipe a fake tear from your eye. “And here I thought I had a faithful boyfriend, but he would watch a movie without me?” Your attempt to hold in your laughter failed as Bakugou roughly shoved your shoulder. “And now he’s violent! Are there any lows you won't reach?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, though you see a slight smirk forming on his lips. “Don't be late and we won't watch it without you, dumbass.”



You were late to the movie. Recovery Girl had apparently been off-campus, assisting with a surgery in Musutafu General Hospital. A third-year student interning under her was in her place at the infirmary. After taking you through a few examinations, she told you that you had some mild hearing loss, though it shouldn't impact your ability to continue your work-studies. Satisfied with this, you thanked her and returned to the dorm.

Despite trying to enter through the front door as silently as possible, you heard a shout of your name as soon as you stepped in. “There you are!” said Ashido, waving to you. “You only missed a few minutes, so hurry up and get over here! Bakugou saved you a seat.”

You laughed, closing the door behind you. “Alright, give me a second!” You quickly removed your shoes and ran over to the couch, ignoring Iida’s warning not to run. You dropped into the spot next to Bakugou, wasting no time before snuggling up into his side. He scoffed, but immediately wrapped an arm around you.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered. “I told you not to be late.”

“Oh? Weren't you the one who tried to get us to wait for them?” joked Kaminari. “What happened to the concerned boyfriend we saw just a few minutes ago?”

“Aww, you did?” you cooed. You leaned up and pressed a kiss onto his cheek, giggling at the blush that quickly formed. “Thanks for trying, Katsuki. Sorry I was late.”

Bakugou scowled, ignoring the teasing from your classmates after your display of affection. “Whatever, let's just watch the damn movie.”

You settled into your spot, a smile on your face as you directed your attention to the movie. After a few minutes, your smile began fading. You tried your best to follow the film, but at moments you just felt lost. It seemed the dialogue would reach your ears, but you couldn't quite make out what was said. Still, you could gather most of it, so you tried to bear with it for a bit longer. Eventually, however, you realized you weren't going to understand the plot if you couldn't hear everything. You let out a sigh, looking around the room. “Alright, who has the remote?”

The others looked to their surroundings, checking to see if it was near them. Bakugou raised an eyebrow, glancing at you. “Why do you need it?”

You gestured to your ears. “Can't quite understand it, so I was gonna turn on the captions.”

Bakugou nodded, before saying, “I can just raise the volume if you need me to. The captions are gonna take up a bunch of space on the screen.”

Mina shook her head at that, saying, “Uh, Aizawa-sensei said we needed to keep the volume down tonight. We already have it pretty high as is...”

Sero waved to catch your attention. “Wanna switch spots? You might be able to hear better closer to the TV.”

You frowned, shaking your head. “Ah, no, that's okay. Thank you, Sero.” You felt guilty about disrupting the movie this much already, and you didn't want to inconvenience anyone further. “I can just try and follow along as much as I can.”

“Found it!” exclaimed Kirishima. “It was beneath the couch cushions. I can turn on the captions for you if you want, (Y/N).”

You glanced around the room at everyone, shrugging to yourself. “If it won't bother anyone...”

Midoriya cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Could you turn them on, please? I kinda need them, too...” Kirishima smiles at you two before hitting a button on the remote. You all turned back to watch the movie as it continued, now with captions accompanying the dialogue.

Bakugou, on the other hand, was looking over at Midoriya, something resembling guilt in his gaze, before glancing back down at you. “Your hearing’s not that bad, is it?” he murmured.

You shook your head, leaning into his side with a smile. “Probably not,” you answered. “It's just been a long day, I think. Nothing to be worried about.”



Bakugou coughed, the smoke and dust from the debris clouding the air around him. After clearing his lungs, he looked at his surroundings. The remains of the building surrounded him, but he luckily avoided being crushed under any of them. The sound of his commlink turning on ripped his attention from his surroundings, as one of Endeavor’s sidekicks spoke up. “Suspect is detained. Ground Zero and (H/N) stunned him enough for us to capture him while he tried to escape. Status?” Each member of the team gave their location and status, and medical teams were dispatched to those who needed them. Bakugou gave his location and reported that he had no injuries. “And (H/N)?” asked Endeavor.

Silence. No response over the comms. At this, Bakugou startled, quickly looking around him only to see nobody within sight. “Ground Zero, they were with you, correct?” asked the sidekick. You were. You had been right there, fighting the villain at his side. After cornering the villain, he'd shouted at you to move before rushing the villain. He'd set off a large explosion in close range to the villain, stunned by your attack, and to you, who hadn't moved. That was the last he'd seen of you before the roof collapsed, and now you weren't responding.

“Ground Zero?” Endeavor called, bringing Bakugou back to the present. He cursed under his breath, quickly standing and beginning to search the area for any sight of you. He looked around the area, hoping you had managed to avoid the falling rubble—unlike how you failed to avoid his attack. Shaking his head, trying to dismiss the thought, he continued to look for you, now shouting your name and waiting for some kind of response. If you had been trapped under the debris, there was nothing he could do but wait for help to come.

Cursing again, he spoke into the comms, “I need a rescue team at the northern side of the building. I can't find (H/N), and they're not responding.” As the sidekick began to assure him that help would be arriving soon, he heard loud coughing nearby. Quickly rushing to the source of the noise, which was a few meters away from what was left of that side of the building, he found you. You were leaning against the wall of the adjacent building, hands on your knees and trying to catch your breath.

His relief at seeing you, alive and safe, was quickly overshadowed by anger. He'd thought you were seriously hurt or worse, because you failed to dodge when he told you to, and you couldn't even be bothered to answer anyone when you were within range to hear the multiple times he called out to you. With a scowl on his face, he stormed towards you and went to grab your shoulder. “(Y/N) what the fuck was that back there—“

The second his hand met your shoulder, his world flipped and he was on his back on the ground. You’d pinned him down, moving to restrain him before meeting his eyes. Your eyes widened, and you quickly released him. “Katsuki?” You stood, reaching out a hand to help him up. “Geez, give me a bit of a warning before you sneak up on me like that. I thought you might've been that villain.” You grinned. “Nice attack, by the way. Pretty powerful too; my ears are still kinda ringing from it. Did they detain him?”

Bakugou looked at your hand reaching out to him, confusion plastered on his face. Maybe your commlink had been broken in the attack, he reasoned. That would explain your lack of response to the team, but...

“Yeah, they got him,” Bakugou explained, taking your hand and standing. “Don't fucking scare me like that again though, you hear me? When you didn't answer I thought—“

“Uh, Katsuki?” you cut him off. “Could you speak up? Can’t quite hear you when you mumble like that.”

“I’m not fucking mumbling!” he shouted. At this, both his and your eyes widened in shock. Yours, because you saw him clearly yelling at you, yet no sound reached your ears but the constant ringing. His, because he saw the small amounts of blood coming from your ears.

“Shit,” you both said.



You arrived back to the dorms with Bakugou, hands intertwined. It hadn’t even been a day since the mission, after which you'd been taken to a hospital. You'd undergone surgery to repair your ruptured eardrums, but your hearing couldn't be salvaged. In less than a day you'd gone from mild hearing loss to complete deafness in one ear and very little hearing in the other. Endeavor had excused you from your work-studies for the time being, as you needed time to adjust to things.

You took in a deep breath and squeezed Bakugou’s hand lightly to grab his attention. He looked to you, squeezing back to let you know he was listening. “I’m just gonna head to my room and get some rest. It's been a long day. Do you want to come with?” you asked, trying to put on a smile.

He nodded, not saying anything. He leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, causing a far less strained smile to appear on your face. You squeezed his hand again to ground yourself before opening the door to the dorm building.

Almost immediately you were met with the sight of your classmates, all rushing to greet you. Some looked excited to see you, while others had looks of concern on their faces. All of them, from what you could see, seemed to be shouting at the two of you, probably asking questions about what happened while you were gone. You saw Bakugou shout something at them before they all went silent, focus solely on you now. You flushed under the attention, curling in on yourself slightly before giving them a small wave. “Hello?” you tried, not quite sure how to address them.

You saw Kaminari ask something while pointing at his ears, so you nodded and hoped you'd guessed his question right. “I got surgery on my eardrums because they got ruptured during the mission,” you explained, pointing to the cotton padding you had in both ears. “I have to keep these in for the next few days, and hopefully the support company will deliver my new hearing aids by then.” As soon as you mentioned hearing aids the questions started again, with many lips moving at once adding to your confusion. “In case I wasn't clear,” you stated, raising your voice and hoping it would be louder than they were, “I can't hear you all right now.”

That, again, shut everyone else up. From his spot near the front of the crowd, Midoriya waved to get your attention. Once your eyes were on him, he began to sign, “Are you alright?”

You smiled at him, suddenly very grateful that Midoriya had decided to teach you JSL when the two of you were younger. You let go of Bakugou’s hand, missing the way he frowned and looked at you in response, before signing back, “I will be.”

Koda perked up upon seeing this exchange, quickly joining the conversation by asking, “You two know sign?” When the two of you nodded, he turned to you. “Everyone's been asking what happened on the mission. Last we heard, you got taken to a hospital. Bakugou wasn't answering anyone’s calls or texts.”

You sighed. Of course Bakugou wouldn't update anyone. You couldn't help but think bitterly that you might've been in bed by now if Bakugou had answered everyone’s questions beforehand, but you didn't dare voice this aloud. You knew he felt guilty enough as is. “There was an accident during the mission. Certain...circumstances during work-studies meant I was slowly losing my hearing over time, making it harder to hear my team.” Those circumstances being constantly working with Bakugou without any ear protection. Explaining it to someone made the situation feel much more real to you, and you found yourself taking deep breaths and fighting back the burning tears in your eyes as you continued. “I wasn't able to move in time to dodge an explosion, and the blast pretty much took whatever hearing I had left.” Midoriya flinched at this, turning his gaze to Bakugou and narrowing his eyes.

Seeing this, you let out a shaky sigh before speaking aloud. “If it's alright with you all, I’d like to head to bed now. I'm very tired. Midoriya, if you could repeat what I said to everyone I'd really appreciate it.” Then, without giving anyone a chance to respond, you grabbed Bakugou’s hand again and rushed out of the room, heading upstairs to your room. You weren't able to hear how you sounded back there, so you could only hope nobody heard the shakiness of your voice or saw the tears building in your eyes. The last thing you wanted was for them to try and comfort you when you just wanted to be alone with Bakugou.

As soon as the two of you entered your room and the door shut, you let the tears fall from your eyes and pulled Bakugou into a hug. He hugged you back without hesitation, pulling you close. The two of you found your way to your bed, where you laid together in deafening silence for the rest of the night.



“How does it sound?”

The first words you heard clearly in over a week were spoken by Aizawa-sensei, who was sitting in Recovery Girl’s infirmary and observing as you tried on your new hearing aids. The small devices were high quality and incredibly expensive, though the support company that provided your costume had them delivered to you for free. According to Recovery Girl, your hero insurance would've covered much of the cost anyway, but the company appeared to be trying to avoid a lawsuit for not providing your protective equipment in the first place. Regardless, you weren't complaining about getting your hearing back for free.

“It's quiet,” you answered, but a large grin quickly overtook your face. “But I can hear you!” You saw Aizawa-sensei nod in response, a small smile on his face.

Recovery Girl handed him a small device. She was standing more than a few feet away, so she sounded much quieter, but you could just barely hear her. “Use this when you're teaching in class. It will send your voice directly to their hearing aids, so they won't have to worry about falling behind in class.” She made her way over to you, her voice increasing in clarity the closer she got. “As for you, while you're still benched from going on any further missions, those hearing aids will double as comm links when necessary.” She held out her hand, in which she held several small devices. “These microphones are smaller versions of the one I just gave your teacher. They're meant to be given to your teammates working in close range to you, so you can hear them without using the commlink up to a certain distance.” After placing the microphones back in the box with your new support equipment, she gently grabbed your hand. “Things won't quite be the same as they once were, but I know you'll be able to adjust. You’re a strong hero, after all.”

“Hero-in-training,” Aizawa-sensei corrected. “Speaking of which, class will be starting shortly. Are they free to go?”

Recovery Girl nodded, waving her hand dismissively, “Yes, yes, they can go now.”

You beamed, quickly standing up before bowing to Recovery Girl. “Thank you!” You rushed out of the infirmary, running towards class before your homeroom teacher could stop you. You rushed towards the 2-A classroom, throwing open the door before shouting into the room, “They work!”

The screams and shouts that filled the room couldn't have sounded more beautiful to your ears.



It was the first movie night the two of you had since you lost your hearing, and Bakugou wanted it to be special. Through some gentle persuasion, according to him, he'd managed to convince Sero and Kaminari to let the two of you use the common room that night, even though the two of them had already planned to play Mario Kart that night. Though you couldn't quite hear the conversation they had, the looks on their faces told you that the persuasion he used probably wasn't as gentle as he suggested.

But that didn't matter anymore. What mattered to Bakugou was you, cuddled up to his side under the blanket, a smile on your face as you looked at the screen. He had one arm draped over your shoulder while you hugged his torso, and the other hand held the remote. He was scrolling through the streaming service, looking for something that appealed to both of you.

“What about that Peerless Thief movie? Looks like it's finally out, and I heard it got good reviews,” Bakugou suggested, pointing at the screen where the poster was displayed. You shuddered at the sight of the titular villain; despite knowing it was just an actor in costume, he captured the image of the infamous villain with terrifying accuracy.

“No thanks,” you muttered. “I'd like to actually get some sleep tonight, if that's fine with you.”

“Pfft, what? It's not that scary, it's practically a documentary!” Bakugou teases, glancing down at you. You had buried your face in his shoulder, not wanting to look at the poster any longer. “What, you think the Peerless Thief is gonna come get you?”

“I don't know, maybe! They never caught him! For all we know he could still be out there, being a menace under the radar!” you exclaimed, throwing one arm up in exasperation. “Just hearing about him in class is scary enough, I don't wanna see any of that!”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, reaching his hand up to ruffle your hair. “All the more reason to watch it, then,” he said. “If you're so worried about him being out there, you can study this and see how he works so we can take him down together.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Right, because two heroes-in-training can take down one of the most infamous villains of all time,” you muttered. Something caught your eye on the screen, and you pointed at it. “What about that one? A Heart That’s Ours to Share? I remember reading that book back in junior high.”

Bakugou looked to where you were pointing and grimaced upon seeing the poster. “Really? A shitty romance? This is what you wanna watch?”

“I know, I know, it looks kinda silly,” you started. “But trust me, it's a lot better than it looks. It ends up being closer to an action-thriller as it goes on. The romance is there, but it's mostly used to drive the rest of the plot forward.”

Bakugou opened his mouth to argue again, but swiftly closed it. He had to remind himself that tonight was about you, and letting you relax. If you wanted to watch some stupid romance, who was he to stop you?

“Tch, whatever,” he grumbled before hitting play. “I'm choosing next time, though.”

You grinned before leaning up to press a peck to his lips. “Thank you, hon! I love you!”

He blushed, letting out a huff. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too, dumbass.” He set down the remote, using his now free hand to wrap around you. He pulled you into his lap, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. Arms now resting around your middle, he leaned back into the couch with you and watched the movie play on the screen.

You looked at the screen, an excited grin on your face. As the opening credits ended, however, your smile faded as faint sounds entered your ear. Once you realized it was the dialogue, a frown settled on your face. The TV was outside the optimal range of your hearing aids, and the words spoken by the characters were nearly unintelligible.

“Um, Katsuki?” you mumbled. Upon getting a hum of acknowledgment, you continued. “Could you turn on the captions, please? I can't hear what they're saying.”

Bakugou inhaled sharply, muttering a shit under his breath before quickly reaching for the remote, being careful not to jostle you in the process. As soon as it was in his hands, he turned the captions on and rewound the film to right before the dialogue started.

Now able to understand what was being said, the smile returned to your face. “Thanks, Katsuki!” You leaned your head back to press a kiss to Bakugou’s cheek. Giggling at the blush on his face, you turned back to the screen and leaned back into his chest, relaxing as you focused on the film.

As you watched the movie together, you frequently glanced back to Bakugou at the more exciting or shocking parts to see his reactions. Much to your dismay, each time you looked you saw a deep frown on his face as he stared ahead at the screen. You sighed each time in disappointment and turned back to watch the movie. Maybe he just doesn't like it, you eventually thought. I’ll make it up to him next time, though. The two of you continued to watch in silence before you began to notice something. At some points throughout the movie, Bakugou would randomly tighten his grip on you, pulling you closer to him, only to let you go once you started to shift in his grasp.

Curious, you began to take note of when this would happen. After about three more times of this happening, you noticed it would happen during the more intense, action-packed scenes. And about an hour into the movie, you realized it only happened when an explosion was involved.

Ah, you realized. That’s what this is about.

You quickly reached for the remote and paused the movie. You turned in Bakugou’s lap to face him, eyebrow raised. His eyes were still on the screen for a few seconds before blinking a few times. He shook his head and turned his gaze to you, eyebrows furrowed.

“What the hell? I was watching that,” he grumbled. Despite his annoyed tone, he moved his hands to rest on your hips and pull you closer.

“Mhm, sure,” you said. You paused before raising a hand to place on his cheek gently. Letting your thumb stroke his face, you made sure to look him in the eyes as you asked your next question. “Katsuki, you know I don't blame you for what happened, right?” you asked. You immediately knew you hit the nail on the head, as he averted his eyes and his grip on your hips loosened. You saw his lips move as he mumbled something, but the sound didn't reach you. You sighed and shook your head. “You know damn well I can’t hear whatever you just said. What was that?”

“I said, I can't see why you don’t blame me,” he repeated, loud enough for you to hear. “This wouldn't have happened if I'd just...I don't know, listened to you!”

You frowned. “You know...maybe you're right.” At his shocked look, you shrugged. “Maybe if you'd listened to me, we might not be in this situation. Or maybe it might've happened anyway.” You saw his eyebrows furrow, so you continued, “Maybe if the support company provided equipment to protect my ears, I might not have lost any hearing in the first place. Maybe if Endeavor didn't assign us together so often I wouldn't be exposed to your loud explosions so often. Maybe if I'd had the common sense to think that constantly being around explosions might damage my hearing, this could've been prevented. But that's a whole lot of maybes.” You smiled gently at him leaning your forehead against his. “There's probably a lot of ways things could have happened, but they didn't. I’m deaf now, and that's just something I have to deal with. The only thing we can do now is move forward.”

Bakugou looked at you in stunned silence, unable to do anything other than nod. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, and he responded eagerly. Your hands gently cradled his face, while his remained on your hips. After pulling away, you pouted at the frown on his face. “Now, could you smile for me Katsuki?” At your request, an unamused look sat on his face. You giggled, before pressing a peck to his lips. “No need to be grumpy!” Another peck. “I won't stop bothering you until you smile!” Another. “I can do this all night, you know.”

He smirked at that, his grip on your hips tightening. “Who said I wanted you to stop?”

You laughed, pressing one more kiss to his lips before turning back around to your previous position on his lap. “Come on, we’re about to get to the best part of the movie. I’ll kiss you as much as you want when it's over, deal?”

Bakugou leaned his head onto your shoulder, pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Deal.”

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha reader insert #bnha x reader

[kpop-zone]

Maniac | Chaeyoung

Genre: fluff

Wordcount: 3,366

Summary: Just a normal day in Chaeyoung’s life: scribbling some new lyrics, taking Kuma for a walk, bodyslamming the wrong person...

A/N: Have I written this just to be able to use a picture of her new hair? ...maybe

“Ok Kuma, we’ve got this. Your mum doesn’t have much faith in me, so we will have to prove to her today that I can take good care of you.”

Chaeyoung said determined to the little brown fluffy ball that was walking right next to her.

Jennie spontaneously had to leave this morning for a photo shooting, and Chaeyoung offered to take care of Kuma till she returned. The older member had thrown a skeptical glance at her, remembering the day that Chaeyoung had left the door open in the dorm and lost all four of Lisa’s cats while looking after them. But after some begging and convincing, Jennie finally gave in and gave Chaeyoung the chance to prove her ability to take care of animals that weren’t trapped in a glass tank.

The first part of the day after Jennie had left, wasn’t that hard. Chaeyoung just scribbled away some lyrics in her notebook while patting her housemate’s precious baby time after time- and paranoidly checking whether the front door was really closed at least five times. But now Chaeyoung had to face the biggest, but gladly last challenge of the day: taking Kuma for a walk.

How difficult could that be though, Chaeyoung thought to herself.

That dog probably weighted less than a container of milk and Chaeyoung knew this park in her sleep. Nevertheless, she tightened her grasp on the leash a bit, too afraid that she would accidentally drop it. Kuma on the other hand, chipperly sniffed every blade of grass that he came across while being completely unaware of his temporary owner’s anxiety.

With every second in the park, however, Chaeyoung began to relax more and more. She had spent some beautiful evenings here before. Whenever there had been fights in the dorm or stress in the company, this park right around the corner of their apartment had been her harbor. Almost no other place in Seoul offered a better view on the sunset while being relatively undiscovered by the public.

Automatically a smile started to play on Chaeyoung’s lips as she noticed that the color of the sun beams playing between the branches slowly turned from a light golden color to orange. It wouldn’t take long anymore till the sun would kiss the earth goodnight, making Chaeyoung’s heart beat faster in anticipation.

“Come on, Kuma. Let’s save a good spot!”

She excitedly said to her companion of the day that lifted his puppy dog eyes for a second to look at her before devoting his attention to a large black dog across the park again. With or without his approval, she pulled him across the place to find the perfect spot to watch the sunset.

Eventually Chaeyoung ended up sitting on a bench right at the edge of the park from where she had a perfect view over the city and the setting sun behind it. She sighed contently before pulling out her phone and snapping some pictures of the beautiful spectacle in front of her.

“You know, I think we spent a pretty awesome day together, right?”

Chaeyoung asked the puppy next to her as if he could understand her while averting her gaze from the purple and pink clouds that had claimed all her attention till now. Her eyes followed the leash in her hand all the way to the end, only to find... nothing but Kuma’s collar.

Adrenaline flooded Chaeyoung’s body, making her heart stop for a second and frantically slam against her ribcage the next.

“Kuma?!”

She squeaked panicked before jumping to her feet and checking all cardinal directions for the little dog.

But no matter how much Chaeyoung narrowed her eyes, she couldn’t spot him anywhere.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.”

She muttered under her breath while grasping her forehead in an attempt to steady her thoughts that were shooting through her mind in an alarming speed.

“She’s gonna kill me.”

Was the only thing Chaeyoung could think of, making her feet automatically carry her body through the park.

“Kuma!”

She kept yelling over and over again, in hopes that he liked her enough to return to her. But unfortunately, he seemed to want to cause her death.

That didn’t stop Chaeyoung, however, from at least trying to save her life. She combed through the park a thousand times while cursing herself for not taking any treats with her. How could she have lost him? She should have focused on him instead of the stupid sunset.

“I can never go home again...”

Chaeyoung had experienced a variety of emotions by now; shock, panic and now defeat. She was about to collapse to the floor to wallow in self-pity when she suddenly spotted a person halfway across the park with something brown and fluffy in their arms. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Was that Kuma? Intently she zeroed in on the little bundle until it suddenly started moving, leaving no doubt that it was indeed her dog.

“Kuma!”

She yelled at the top of her lungs, causing everyone in the park to look at her, including the person carrying Kuma. But after giving her their attention for a second, they turned their head and started walking towards the exit of the park.

“Oh I don’t think so.”

Chaeyoung wouldn’t let anyone steal Jennie’s dog and seal her death.

With her gaze focused on the target, she started making one step after the other until she was running at full speed. Her hair was wildly flying in the wind, making it resemble a lion’s mane while her face was all scrunched up in anger. How dare that person? They didn’t even seem to be in a rush, making it easy for Chaeyoung to catch up to them. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t take any chances to let them get away.

“That’s my dog!!”

She growled before pushing herself off the ground and tackling the person from behind. With a loud thud, they landed, but Chaeyoung quickly picked herself up to confront the thief.

“Did you really think, you could get away with stealing my dog??”

Chaeyoung asked in disbelief between heavy panting due to her unplanned exercise. But she didn’t care, she had caught the thief, that was all that mattered.

----

You left out a groan as your body hit the ground. Your face was hovering just inches above the dirt and you needed to shake your head to comprehend what had just happened. Only when you felt a weight shifting on top of you, you realized that someone must have tackled you to the ground. A voice made you snap your head around and you saw that the girl that had tackled you had already bobbed up again and was looking at you expectantly now.

“W-what?”

You responded in confusion because you hadn’t understood a single word that she had been saying.

The girl, however, just grunted in annoyance and grabbed your puppy. To her surprise though, he snarled menacingly before jumping off her arms into yours again.

“Kuma?”

His rejection had apparently come unexpected, leaving her perplexed. You used this chance to finally recollect yourself. What was this girl thinking?

“Could you please leave me and my dog alone, you maniac?”

You gritted through your teeth before pushing her off and getting on your feet again.

For a second, the girl remained on the ground in confusion before meeting you on eye level again.

“Your dog?”

She repeated your words slowly before inspecting the dog in your arms. You could see that her eyes were scanning his body from his head to his paws until she suddenly gasped loudly. In shock, she covered her mouth with her hand and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Oh my god...”

Those three words were the only thing that she exclaimed before staring at you wordlessly for a second.

“I’m so sorry...I-I...don’t know what to say. I just lost my friend’s dog and she loves him more than anything else on this planet. He looks just like yours, except that he doesn’t have a white paw. I guess, I just wanted your dog to be him. I really don’t know how to tell her...”

With every word more and more tears started to pool in her eyes until they were streaming down her cheek in a rapid pace. Your anger immediately vanished and made room for pity in your heart.

“Oh- It’s fine. Please don’t cry.”

You were quick to backtrack, but the girl vehemently shook her head, making her tears fall to the ground.

“I’ve already searched everywhere! He’s gone!”

She sobbed and the sound broke your heart.

“No! Don’t say that! We can find your dog together!”

You offered quickly, because you couldn’t stand to see her sad for a second longer.

Finally, the girl looked at you although tears were still rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t say anything, making you awkwardly shift from one foot to the other; you really weren’t good at handling crying people. Quickly you cleared your throat and held out your hand to break the silence.

“Um... hi. I’m Y/N by the way.”

You introduced yourself sheepishly, but the girl just kept staring at your hand.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I just tackled you to the ground.”

Her cheeks became a light shade of pink and you couldn’t help but giggle when you remembered the incident a second ago. This evening stroll had definitely taken another turn than you had expected to.

“I would have reacted the same way if I had thought that someone tried stealing my dog.”

You shrugged, causing the girl to glance up at you before groaning.

“Ugh I’m such an idiot.”

She sighed while crouching down and burying her face in her hands. Awkwardly you watched the ball of misery in front of you for a while before hesitantly patting her shoulder.

“Hey don’t say that. Your friend should at least give you some credit for the effort. I mean you literally bodyslammed me to the ground...”

You hoped to cheer her up a bit, but when her sad gaze snapped up to you, you started questioning your ability to comfort people. Suddenly, however, a silent giggle escaped her lips and she stood up again.

“I guess you’re right about that.”

You smiled proudly when you saw that her expression had lightened up a bit.

“I’m Chaeyoung.”

This time it was her to hold out her hand and you grabbed it happily.

“Nice to meet you! Shall we search for your dog?”

You asked and finally a smile appeared on Chaeyoung’s lips, causing your heart to suddenly miss a beat. All this time you had been so distracted by her miserable state that you hadn’t noticed how pretty she actually was. Her eyes were still a little puffy, but you were sure that you had never seen a prettier person in your life. Dumbfounded you scanned every detail of her face from her white, pearly teeth to the cute crinkles on her nose because of her smile. You were completely lost and only her voice managed to rip you out of your trance.

���Yes! Let’s find him!”

She stated with a sudden burst of positivity before marching off.

Quickly you shook off your trance and followed her. She greeted you with another wide smile after you had caught up to her, making you realize that you were hopelessly falling for her.

“What is his name?”

Chaeyoung cut through your train of thoughts another time by reaching out to pat your dog on your arms that you had completely forgotten until now.

“Um... Yeontan!”

You stuttered surprised by her question, making it seem like you had just made that up.

Chaeyoung looked at you confused for a second before devoting her attention to Yeontan. He seemed to like her a lot better now and licked her hand, causing Chaeyoung to giggle. Like on command your heart left its steady rhythm again and you cursed yourself for being so easily wooed by her. This was the same girl that had tackled you to the ground not long ago.

As you remembered the incident, you finally noticed how your leg was actually hurting and you rubbed the spot that had had to bear your whole weight earlier. Chaeyoung immediately looked at you concerned.

“Is it because of the fall? Are you in pain? I’m so sorry about that.”

She looked like she was about to cry again, so you were quick to put on a smile.

“No, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry.”

You assured her but Chaeyoung kept looking at you worriedly.

The awkwardness from earlier returned again, but you didn’t want to allow it. You wanted to keep listening to her beautiful voice and get lost in a random conversation. Therefore, you gritted your teeth and picked up the pace to proof that your leg was absolutely fine.

“How did you lose your friend’s dog anyways?”

You asked to change the topic and Chaeyoung looked at your leg a little longer before snapping up her gaze.

“I was looking at the sunset...”

She mumbled sheepishly, making you bite back a grin. She really looked adorable when she was flustered.

“Ah that happened to me too before.”

You responded to ease her bad conscience.

“Really?”

She met your eyes as a slight pout on her lips was making your heart flutter.

“Yup. I tied up Yeontan’s leash because I was tired of carrying it, but then I got so lost in eating my sandwich that I didn’t notice how the leash untied and Yeontan walked off by himself.”

Chaeyoung nodded understandingly and started telling you how much easier it was to take care of fish. Without you noticing, the two of you had already rounded the park once while talking about this and that and looking for Kuma. If it were up to you, you wouldn’t mind talking with Chaeyoung the rest of the evening, but you could see how she got more worried with every minute.

“Be honest, Y/N. We won’t find him, right?”

She asked eventually and you scratched your neck helplessly. The park wasn’t that big, and you were sure that you had checked every corner by now. It was likely that Kuma had run off and finding a small puppy in a 10 million people metropolis was pretty hopeless. You sighed sadly and opened your mouth to tell her to go home when you saw a person walking into the park with two dogs next to them. A large black dog and a tiny brown one.

“Kuma looks exactly like Yeontan, right?”

You probed while keeping your eyes on the dog across the park.

“Yeah...”

Chaeyoung answered while following your gaze. She gasped loudly once she found what you were looking at.

“You don’t think that’s...”

She trailed off, but you nodded in response.

“Come on, it’s our last shot.”

You motioned Chaeyoung to follow you while already starting to walk towards the little brown dog.

“Please don’t tackle that person though.”

You chuckled once you almost reached your destination, making Chaeyoung slap your arm lightly.

“Stop.”

She whined, causing you to laugh even more. You hoped that you would get the chance to tease her even more about your first encounter in the future, because you surely didn’t want it to be your last.

The nearer you came to the two dogs, the faster Chaeyoung walked. You could see the hope in her eyes, and you prayed that she wouldn’t get disappointed another time.

“Kuma?”

She called out almost hesitantly once you were only a few steps away from the dogs. The little brown one actually raised his head and looked right at the two of you. It took him a while, but then he suddenly wagged his tail and ran to Chaeyoung in lightning speed. She squealed in joy and sank to her knees to lift him up in her arms.

“You naughty dog! Why did you run away?”

She tried scolding him, but her shaky voice was betraying her.

You smiled as you watched Kuma licking Chaeyoung’s face, causing her to giggle happily.

“Thank you for finding my dog!”

She said to the owner of the black dog.

“No problem. He must have followed us out of the park. I was already halfway home when I noticed him trailing behind us.”

They answered and Chaeyoung shook her head.

“How could you, Kuma? I was worried sick.”

The little dog didn’t seem to have that big of a bad conscience though as he was already starting to get distracted by the black dog again. This time, however, Chaeyoung didn’t take any chances and put his collar around his neck again. Precautionary she picked him up and turned to both their savior another time.

“You can’t believe how grateful I am.”

Relief was written all over her face and she couldn’t stop thanking the owner of the black dog that had to leave eventually though.

“What an evening.”

Chaeyoung sighed once it was just the two of you again.

“I better get going home now. Jennie is probably going crazy by now.”

Although you had known that the two of you had to part eventually, your heart still sank. You wished that you had more time.

“Yeah, I think you probably should.”

You mumbled while avoiding Chaeyoung’s gaze and looking at your shoes.

Nevertheless, you could see in the corner of your eye that she hadn’t made a move to leave yet. Instead, she was standing in front of you while fidgeting with her fingers. This could be your chance to ask for her number or to at least tell her that you enjoyed this evening, you thought to yourself. Your brain worked at top speed. You needed to choose your words wisely; you only had one shot that you couldn’t mess up. No matter how hard you tried though, it seemed like you had lost all your eloquence. The words in your head were jumbled, making your throat dry out.

Impatiently Chaeyoung started shifting from one foot to the other as silence surrounded the two of you, causing your nervousness to increase tenfold. It was now or never. But when you met her eyes, your carefully prepared words suddenly disappeared in the back of your mind again and you were left speechless. Instead, Chaeyoung cleared her throat at last.

“Well, thanks again for your help. Um... bye, I guess.”

She said while slowly starting to walk backwards.

Helplessly you met her gaze, but when you opened your mouth no words came out, causing her to sigh and turn around.

“Come on, Kuma. Let’s go home.”

She mumbled and you cursed yourself inwardly. What was wrong with you? You needed some sort of wake-up call.

Like the heavens had heard your cry for help, Yeontan suddenly barked in your arms and you almost dropped him in shock. The noise made Chaeyoung look over her shoulder again, allowing you to take a glance at her beautiful features one more time.

You simply couldn’t let this chance slip.

Only a few more steps and she would disappear through the gate of the park, but finally your courage seemed to have found you.

“I’m here every day. Same time.”

You yelled, causing Chaeyoung to turn around. A wide smile was playing on her lips when she met your eyes.

“Good to know. See ya.”

She winked and you were sure that someone had just shot an arrow through your heart.

“See ya.”

You mumbled to yourself while waving awkwardly and watching Chaeyoung disappear.

She was out of your sight for a while now, but your feet were still firmly planted on the ground and your eyes fixated on the gate until Yeontan barked eventually to rip you out of your trance. You almost yelped in surprise, but quickly put him down to finally go home as well.

“I hope you’re prepared, buddy. We’ll go on a lot of walks the next weeks.”

You chuckled, causing Yeontan to snort disapprovingly as if he had understood your words.

Who would have thought that you would fall for the maniac tackling you to the ground?

#blackpink scenario #blackpink #rose scenario #chaeyoung scenario #girl group scenario #girl group #kpop scenarios #kpop #blackpink imagine #rose imagine #park chaeyoung

[rwbyremnants]

WARNINGS: FREEZERBURN: alcohol, skinny dipping, outdoor sex.

So there's been a lot going on with me. Not all of it good, not all of it bad; I won't bog you down with all the details. But I am glad to be getting back to work here! More fanfics coming soon, I promise!

=Chapter 35

The first thing Blake did the next morning was draw a bath and follow through on her promise. Weiss jokingly offered to “help” and received a glare of blistering death for her trouble.

Delicious smells lured her downstairs while waiting for the bathroom to free up. Kali made an incredible breakfast for the four of them, and her mother looked delighted with the spread - and she had a suspicion they had been working on it together for at least an hour. It was sweet and domestic… even if strange that two women were so domestic together.

Not that they were together together. Just cohabitating.

That sounded even worse in her head.

“Morning, sweetie,” Willow greeted her with a little wave, sipping her coffee. “How did you sleep?”

“Not… as well as I hoped,” she admitted truthfully as she dropped into her chair. “New room and everything. But that will probably get better soon.”

Kali arrived to set down a platter of bacon - a full platter of it, overflowing and sizzling. “Blake didn’t keep you up too late, did she?” The eye that Willow couldn’t see winked at her playfully, and Weiss was glad she hadn’t started eating yet or she might have choked.

“No,” she told her stubbornly.

“Good. I noticed when I looked in on you that the two of you were snug as bugs in a rug.”

While Weiss was busy trying not to blush - and ignoring the smirk that lingered on the other woman’s face - her mother was cooing, “Aww, that’s just the most precious thing! I felt so sad when you agreed one of you would sleep downstairs… that’s no way for two young girls to get along.”

“Mmm,” Weiss hedged as she tried her own coffee. Not that she made a habit of drinking it.

“Well, they were all wrapped up in each other when I saw them,” Kali commented casually as she finally sat, the breakfast spread complete. “Makes a mother proud.”

“A mother like you, yes.”

Her eyes danced as she raised her own cup to her lips. “I don’t follow.”

“Suuuuure you don’t.” Then she turned to smile at her mother. “How did you sleep? Does Mrs. Belladonna hog the covers?”

“No, not at all,” she reported pleasantly. “She was… this was the first good night’s sleep I’ve had in years that wasn’t because I was too drunk to wake up. Sleeping beside Jacques made that impossible; sorry, Weiss.”

“Don’t apologise to me! I know how awful he’s been, and… and I’m glad we’re away.” She didn’t sound completely convincing. What she really wanted was for her father to be a good person, to treat his family with respect and affection instead of trying to rule them with an iron fist. But that wasn’t in the cards.

“I’m glad you are, too,” Kali put in, abandoning her teasing to reach over and pat Willow’s arm. “This might be temporary, but I would be alright with hosting you indefinitely. Anything to protect you from that.”

It wasn’t clear if “that” was Jacques or from the situation. Either one worked. Weiss decided to let them have their moment of comfort and camaraderie, and focused on tucking into her breakfast.

Nearly an hour passed before Blake joined them, and she was freshly-scrubbed and in a pleasant mood. Weiss caught her eye and smiled, and she rolled her eyes, trying to avoid confronting what they both knew had taken place in that tub.

“Sorry for taking so long,” she sighed. “We’re probably gonna be late for school.”

“Probably. But I think it’s alright after yesterday.” As Blake nodded sleepily, picking at the cold breakfast, Weiss added in a casual tone, “So apparently, you were snuggling me again this morning. You’re a clingy sleeper, I guess.”

Blake paused with the rasher of bacon halfway to her lips, eyes wide.

“It was like a Rockwell painting,” Kali teased with a smirk playing around her lips. That only made Blake’s cheeks flush even brighter. “I wish I had a photograph of you two, all cozy like that.”

“Mom…”

“Aww, me too,” Willow added, and Weiss giggled. They were all going a bit overboard teasing Blake, but it was fair play after Blake had been so heated about their parents spending “too much” time together. And besides, this teasing was all in good fun; everyone knew she was dating Yang and unavailable.

“Do you want me to have breakfast here or not?”

“Alright, alright,” Kali chuckled. “Sit down and eat before I have to tan your hide like I used to.”

“OKAY, MOM! ENOUGH!”

----------------------

Eventually, they made their way to school. It felt a little odd to be riding on Blake’s bike instead of Yang’s - especially after how close they got during the dead of night. Someday, she would have to get her own bike… but that day was going to be in the far future at the rate they were going.

Her family was penniless. Jacques Schnee no longer counted as her family as far as she was concerned; Whitley was debatable. But she and her mother were destitute, forced to depend on the kindness of a family friend to keep from winding up in the gutter. It was a bleak future. Still, at least they were alive and healthy, and had a network of strong women around them. Might as well keep her eyes on the horizon and try to make the best of a bad situation.

“Hey, uh… watch where those hands are going, Schnee.”

“They’re not going anywhere weird!” she protested, redoubling her grip around Blake’s stomach. “I have to hold on, don’t I?”

She sighed impatiently as they came to a stop at an intersection. “Yes, but you keep moving them around! And you almost grabbed my boob a couple of blocks back!”

“Oh, you’re exaggerating.”

“I am not!”

Things continued in that way all the way to the school - good-natured bickering over where the boundaries of propriety lay when they were both forced to be so close to each other. They dismounted and greeted the other Dragons with waves and smiles. Emerald was there, even though Cinder wasn’t quite recovered enough to be discharged - mostly according to Cinder, of course.

But Yang seemed to have something up her sleeve. A paper bag was clutched in one hand that was a lot larger than one for lunch, and must have been quite unwieldy to carry all the way there while driving a motorcycle.

“You bringing lunch for everybody?” Coco chuckled.

“Sit on it, Adel.” Her eyes swivelled to find Weiss, who took a step away from Blake on instinct. That was stupid; they hadn’t done anything wrong. Or at least, not while conscious.

“Hey,” Weiss said with a slight smile.

“Hiya. Wanna talk to you.”

Dread flared in the pit of her stomach. “Oh?” But when Yang opened the bag and pulled out a large bouquet of flowers, she felt the dread turn into butterflies. “Ohhhh… what’s this for?”

“For you. I, um, I wanted to ask… if you maybe… wanna go with me to the homecoming dance?”

The other Dragons sent up a chorus of wolf-whistles and cheers, punctuated with laughter, and Yang grimaced as if fighting down a blush. Weiss did feel a little embarrassed, as well, but mostly she was beyond pleased that she had been asked at all. Though one or two boys had asked before she went to the hospital, they were turned down flat - she didn’t want to lead them on, especially if they had zero chance of progressing past a polite dance.

Speaking of people with no chance…

“I’m happy for you two,” Blake said with a fairly convincing smile, clapping for them along with the rest. Weiss knew she wasn’t happy, but that she was at the same time; she would have to give her an extra hug later. “And for the extra steamy time you two are going to have in the locker room that night.”

“What?” Weiss asked in some surprise. “Steamy time? Why would we go to the locker room?!”

It was Coco who answered, smile casual and bemused. “Well, the gym is where the dance happens. And the locker room is right off the gym… and nobody will be thinking about two girls necking in there when they’re so busy watching for boy-girl couples. So…”

Weiss and Yang exchanged a bashful glance. It was the surprised princess who said, “Oh.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Emerald snorted, elbowing Coco. It seemed that now the dust had all settled, and she realised how hard Weiss had been trying to help everyone instead of actively setting things on fire, she was back to regarding her as something resembling a friend. “You two could just have a good time sock-hopping and then neck afterward. Don’t let Adel talk you into anything.”

“I’m not!” Coco protested, hands on her hips. “Just want everybody to have the best time possible. And we could all have it in the locker room.”

Blake squinted at her. “Will you stop trying to get that to happen? Nobody’s buying what you’re selling.”

“What?” Weiss asked in some confusion.

“Don’t worry about it,” Yang sighed in annoyance. But when Weiss still looked confused, she relented. “Oh, Coco wants to try a, uh… ‘petting party’ kind of thing. Been trying to talk us all into it ever since that night some of us tried Velvet on for size - which was a completely random situation! And we’re not all loose women like you are!”

Coco scowled. “Hey, I’m not ‘loose’; I am highly selective about who I pet and who gets to pet me. I just so happen to think all of you qualify, that’s all.”

The penny finally dropped, and Weiss held up a hand. “Wait, wait - are you talking about… about all of us having sex in the same room?!”

“I’m talking about all of us having sex with each other.” She glanced at Yang’s glower and rolled her eyes. “It was an idea, Xiao Long. Cool it. Pardon me for wanting to give my girl a big sendoff, okay?”

Velvet was already flushing scarlet. “Y-you do remember that I felt awful after the last time, don’t you? It w-wasn’t anyone’s fault, but…”

Her hands came to rest on Velvet’s shoulders, caressing up and down to soothe the timid little bunny. “Cinder’s fault, a little bit. But you’ve come a long way, baby. Like I said, I’m only interested if anyone else is; they aren’t, so I’ll drop it.”

“Thanks,” Yang sighed, reaching over to knock her shoulder gently. “Sorry, I’m just kinda… I dunno. Not really into that whole thing, and not into making Weiss try it on for size when she’s so green.”

Conflicting feelings rose up in Weiss at those words. She was very slightly irritated at Yang speaking on her behalf… but also found it satisfying. Yang was so protective, and always looking out for her interests. It was nice.

“Me, either,” Blake said, looking between Yang and Weiss. “Though it could be fun, it could also be really strange - and make all of us feel ooky afterward. Let’s just not and say we did.”

Then they heard the bell ring. “Back to the salt mines,” Coco sighed as they made their way toward the building. “Let’s go, spoilsports.”

But Weiss saw Blake looking morose as they moved off. She wanted to ask why, but decided it would keep until later.

----------------------

And later arrived.

“What do you mean by that?”

Shrugging in a would-be nonchalant way, Weiss leaned her elbows back against the china cabinet in the Belladonna dining room. “Nothing. I’m simply asking if it’s really alright if she-”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Blake shot at her tiredly. She looked as if she had just run a marathon, merely because of Weiss asking the question. “You two can’t walk on eggshells around me all the time. It’s better if I start getting used to you going around together. Like I have been trying to do. For weeks.”

“But we didn’t know you were swooning over Yang when we started! Now we do- or I mean, at least I do, and we don’t have to-”

“Hey, come on. Cut that out. I’m not a baby, I can handle myself.”

“I never said you were a baby!”

“No, but you implied that I-”

“Girls, girls,” Kali laughed as she edged through the kitchen door with a meatloaf sizzling in the pan, caught between her oven mitts. “What’s all this commotion?”

Sounding even more petulant than she looked, Blake turned away and muttered, “Nothing.”

“Sounds familiar,” Weiss muttered herself.

Blake’s mother rolled her eyes. “Well, it sure is a whole lot of noisy nothing. Come on, it’s time for dinner.”

So they ate. It was a nice meal, and both Blake and Weiss could let the matter drop for the time being, instead focusing on tales from school, and Kali’s work. Willow tried to participate as best she could, but her day had consisted of either sitting around or crying, so she mostly kept her silence while encouraging the others to go into detail about their stories.

“Your mom’s nice,” Blake admitted later when they were doing the dishes.

“What?” she gasped theatrically. “Can this be? Blake complimenting a Schnee?”

“A one-time event, you jerk. But… yeah, I’m…” Handing another dish over to be dried, she relented completely. “I’m even more sorry now about telling you to stop setting her up with my mom. Especially since…”

Weiss waited a few seconds before prompting her, “Since?”

“Since you might be right. They’re close, but I haven’t seen ‘sparks’. Just two good friends, and someone your mom needs to lean on. My mom needs more companionship her age, too.”

“To keep her from trying to get the baby Dragons into bed.”

“Yeah.” They both chuckled, and Blake smiled fondly at her. It was a real, honest-to-goodness fond smile, and it was directed at Weiss. She seemed to realise it a moment later because her eyes snapped down to the dishes and she scrubbed a little harder than was necessary. “You dodged a bullet there.”

“Oh? And how did I do that? You saying your mother isn’t good company?”

“No, I’m saying she’s too good company. And she doesn’t really do… monogamy. As in, ever since Dad died and Raven cut her out of her life…” Discomfort crept into her eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this stuff about my mom. It’s probably not nice.”

“I won’t tell her, I promise.”

“Well, okay. It’s just that I’ve never seen her get serious about any woman. Raven, she might have, but we’ll never know now because of how everything hit the fan. Any other girl she’s played with has just been that: playing. Like a toy a little kid forgets about two days after it comes out of Santa’s stocking.”

Frowning down at the dish she was still drying long after it had been cleared of water, Weiss set it down. “That’s really… sad. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t kill my father or make Yang’s mom a bitch.”

“Blake!” she gasped, but Blake only let out a cruel little titter. “Good golly, you can’t call her that - she’s an adult, and she’s-”

“A bitch,” she repeated firmly. “If anyone deserves that word, it’s Raven Branwen. And you know I’m right.”

“Maybe. Still not very nice - especially when we both know she's been trying harder lately.”

Amber eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “You're such a goody two shoes. But… I guess that's not such a terrible thing.”

Weiss tried not to let her smile look too overly pleased as they went back to washing.

----------------------

The weekend finally arrived. Even though everything with her father still loomed over her head like a black cloud, establishing a routine at the Belladonna household definitely helped both Weiss and her mother regain some sense of normalcy. The single bathroom tended to be a bit more clogged with four women always vying for its attentions, and Kali had to adjust her recipes to be a bit larger, but they were all such relatively easy fixes and everyone seemed more than ready to try.

That said, she still felt a bit grateful when Yang showed up out of the blue on her motorcycle, commanding her to hop on. Waving to the two mothers, she slipped on her jacket and headed out the door.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise!”

“Why so many surprises lately?!”

“That’s a surprise, too!” But the gales of laughter that floated out of the blonde afterward told her that she was just playing around. As usual.

Once they got out of the city, Weiss began to truly worry, but they didn’t go much further until they crested a hill and a beautiful meadow stretched out before them in the late morning sunlight. Yang quickly guided the cycle toward a little copse of trees along the side of a lake and around it, leaving them mostly shielded from the road. Only the lake lay out before them.

“Hey, what is this?” Weiss asked with a little smile as the driver took off her helmet. “Either we’re going fishing, or…?”

“Got the answer riiiight here.” Yang reached into the copse and pulled out… a picnic basket.

“Huh?!”

Still wearing that coy little smile of hers, she carried it a little ways from the trees and opened the top, pulling out a chequed blanket and spreading it over the ground. “Well, it feels like I don’t get to see you all that much lately. Lot of crazy stuff happening. Plus if we don’t do it now, it’ll be too cold to do stuff like this pretty soon. Wanted to have a picnic with you while we could.”

Heart melting, she quickly flitted over to Yang’s side and leaned up to peck her on the cheek. “Awwww!”

“Alright, alright,” she giggled. “Help me get everything set up. Grab a couple of rocks from the pond, willya?”

Weiss complied, and Yang used the rocks to anchor the corners of the blanket against any winds that might try to upset their little lunch. One at a time, she began to take out little Tupperware containers of various foods.

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Just since last night,” she told her, popping one of the containers open. It was full of ambrosia - Jell-O mixed with marshmallows and nuts. She closed it again and reached for a different one. “I dunno, I really wanted to do something. You were pleased as punch about me taking you to homecoming, which is great, but… it kinda reminded me that everything’s been so wild around here lately. We need to fix that.”

“We definitely do.” She snuggled into Yang’s side as she retrieved chicken salad, a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese. Then the last item emerged and Weiss gasped, “Yang!”

“What?” she laughed, reaching back in for a corkscrew. “I mean, we won’t be driving again for a few hours. Besides… I really want this to be a real date.”

Smiling even as she rolled her eyes, Weiss helped hold the bottle steady while Yang opened it. “We don’t need wine for it to be a real date. But… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. I’m just not as much of a fan lately.”

“Yeah…” She shrugged as the cork popped out and she tossed it and the screw back into the basket. “I know, your mom and all. But we’re not her, and it’s not the wine’s fault. That was just… y’know. How she dealt with things. But I can pour it out if you-”

“No, no,” she cut Yang off quickly, kissing her cheek to reassure her. “I want to share this with you. All of it.”

So they set about making themselves little sandwiches, hacking the bread and cheese up with the knife she packed. Yang kicked off her boots, and Weiss followed suit by shedding her saddle shoes. They laughed and ate and talked, mostly about school and Dragons business. A little about their parents and Blake, but those subjects were a tad touchier so they didn’t dwell nearly so much.

By the time they were into the ambrosia, passing the spoon back and forth, they had reached the topic of Ruby and Qrow. Though Yang wasn’t thrilled with it, she was a little too inebriated from the wine to put up much of a fight.

“You’re totally right,” she admitted begrudgingly after swallowing. “I should maybe try not to be so… so mad, I guess. And I’m already trying with Ruby! Isn’t that enough?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t. Just that you could try… getting along with Qrow, see if he’s open to starting over. He’s family, right?”

“My uncle. Doesn’t make him a good person. Enough,” she cut Weiss off before she could protest as she set the bowl down, hands on her hips as she stared out over the lake. “Promise I’ll try harder, okay? But I don’t wanna think about that right now. I want… to swim.”

Weiss was still blinking in surprise when she saw Yang tossing her jacket aside, then reaching for the waistline of her jeans. “Swim? But… neither of has bathing suits.”

“Sure don’t,” she told her, casting a wicked little grin over her shoulder as she pushed them down to her ankles, taking the socks with them. Her bare, firm ass was on display.

“YANG!”

“Come on, nobody’s around for miles. That house on the other side of the lake? It’s abandoned. Everybody moved into Vale, or down the road the other way.” Her hands unbuttoned her blouse the rest of the way and dropped it to rest in a pile with the other clothing, leaving her wearing nothing but a bra and a foxlike expression. “Just us.”

Swallowing hard, she gazed up at the perfection that was Yang Xiao Long. That hourglass figure that was only strengthened by her formidable muscles, not diminished, and legs that seemed built both for kicking down doors and modelling pantyhose at the same time. “Wowee…” Then she pushed to her feet as well. “Want some help with that?”

“Yeah, I would.” Weiss made quick work of the clasp as Yang asked, “Does that mean you’re gonna join me?”

Heart leaping into her throat, she was quick to hiss, “What?! NO! Jeepers, I couldn’t- I mean, out here in the- I would be naked!”

“That’s the idea, Schnee,” she laughed as she turned, displaying everything God had given her to the nervous paper shaker. “Let’s get you out of that dress.”

“But…” Her cheeks were already flushed from the wine, and they only got worse. “W-well… did you even bring a towel?”

“Nah. We can dry in the sun; there ain’t a cloud in the sky.”

Chewing her lip, she looked around at the lakeshore again. She was right; the only house she could spot was very far away, and looked like it had half-crumbled. “Ohhh… I… alright, but…”

Yang stepped on the toes of Weiss’s socks, reaching up to hold her shoulders. “Go on.” She walked backward out of them, trying not to giggle at the slightly ticklish sensation of their toes fighting with each other. The minute she was barefoot, Yang reached down to the hem of her dress and whispered, “Are you ready? I’ll only do it if you say ‘yes’. Not gonna throw you in the water if you don’t want me to.”

“Fine, go on,” she sighed irritably, and Yang laughed as she helped her out of it. Hands roamed instead of assisting with her underwear, so she swatted Yang’s shoulder. “Cad.”

“Hey! I’m allowed to do a little heavy petting with my own girlfriend!”

“Is that in the rules somewhere?” They both chuckled a little as Yang finally did unclasp Weiss’s little bra. She always felt so self-conscious when their chests were on display to each other, since hers was so much smaller, but Yang didn’t seem to mind at all. “I can’t believe we’re skinny dipping, I feel so childish…”

“Really? Because you look like a real woman to me.”

Pleased more than she wanted to let on, Weiss pursed her lips to keep from grinning and finally stepped out of her panties. Yang had already seen her, after all - it just wasn’t in such a public setting. “Okay, there. Let’s get in the water so I don’t feel like such a… a degenerate!”

“Wow, touchy,” she chuckled as she stuffed the clothing into the basket. Then she turned and scooped Weiss up in one fluid motion.

“HEY!”

“Okay, so,” she began as she took long strides toward the water, “I may have told one teensy… little… FIB!”

Then she tossed Weiss into the water.

“AAAAH!” she cried out. “IT’S COLD!”

“Too bad, Schnee!” she cackled, beyond pleased with herself. Of course, it wasn’t particularly deep there, so it only took a few seconds of floundering and sputtering for her to get her feet under her and stand up, shivering and glaring daggers at where Yang was wading in, taking her sweet time.

“I’LL SHOW YOU!” she shouted - as she tugged her down into the water with her.

“No fair!” Yang shouted, though she was already laughing. Of course it wouldn’t work quite as well on her - she might have known.

The two paddled around for a few minutes, just laughing and splashing. Weiss had to admit she was having a lot of fun; both because of the whole trip, and because it was such a bold and obscene thing to do. Her mother would have kittens if she knew! Yang’s mother probably would even have something to say about it, about how foolish it was to let down their guard that way, even if she didn’t care about the nudity part. It was quite freeing, having nothing between her body and the water, even though it also felt unsettling having it ripple past certain sensitive areas.

“So,” Yang asked some time later - she couldn’t be sure how much. “Great idea, or greater idea?”

Shaking her head, she muttered, “So full of yourself” before pushing at Yang’s head. The blonde only laughed more. “But… okay, this is fun. Next time, I think I would prefer a bikini, even if you don’t think we needed one.”

“Awww, but I like knowing I get to do this whenever I want,” she purred, reaching out to poke Weiss’s nipple. She recoiled instantly, covering her chest. “Hah!”

“Don’t do that!” To retaliate, she did the same, and Yang also let out a little gasp before laughing. “See how it feels?!”

Biting her lip, she fluttered her eyelashes before whispering, “Feels pretty good. Do it again.”

“No.”

“Come on…” Unable to stay mad, a smile escaped Weiss’s guard as she poked a second time. “Oooh… you really have the Midas touch.”

Drifting a little closer, she began to caress over Yang’s ample bosom more earnestly, and saw the shift in the taller girl’s expression. The playfulness remained but muted, moved to behind a wall of pure lust. Her other hand grazed past the Dragons brand in the center of her chest on its way to the other breast, grazing over the erect nipple - as if they could be anything other than erect in such frigid waters. This felt like a terrible idea but she couldn’t help herself around Yang sometimes.

“O-okay,” Yang said with a shaky little laugh. “Maybe… we should take to this to the shore.”

“What’s the matter?” she teased, grinning at being the pursuer instead of the pursued for once. “Thought this was the whole idea.”

Shoving her hands off, Yang grinned wolfishly. “Giving me a run for my money, Schnee. Nah… I really did want to swim with you.”

That made her feel all warm inside, despite the chill on her skin. “And I’m having a great time.” She pulled her in for a deep kiss, hands ghosting up her back. It felt weird with their legs swirling around each other in the water, feeling wet skin slip and dimple under her fingertips, but it was oddly wonderful. New and beautiful and full of magic.

After another hour or so, they paddled back to the shore and stretched out on the blanket. The sun beat down on them from almost directly overhead, warming their bare skin. She glanced down along Yang’s body, at her sizable mounds and the flat plane of her stomach, the thatch of golden hair that disappeared between her legs. Every once in a while, one of them would twitch their foot over to poke the nearest one of the other person, just as a way to check they were still there.

“How long did you want to hang around here?” Weiss finally whispered, as if not wanting to break the comfortable silence that had grown between them. The sounds of the birds overhead and the gentle lapping of the lake water demanded their attention.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have you home in time for Perry Mason. Or whatever you watch in Casa Belladonna now.”

“I used to watch What’s My Line? with Father. But now… I don’t know, it won’t be the same anymore. Even if I did try it.”

Yang’s hand drifted over to pet up and down Weiss’s trim little abdomen. “Sorry. I know you didn’t want life to turn out… well, like this. And it’s kinda my fault.”

“No!” she cried, rolling to face her. “Come on. I may have lost my father, but… I got my mother back. I’ve missed her so much! And even if I never met you, I’m sure something else I did would have set him off, and… and I would have had no big, strong Dragon to help protect me. You or the others. So… I mean, yes, I’ve had a few pity parties about the whole thing, but for the most part? This is for the best. Really.”

The smile on Yang's face told the whole story. She already felt the same way, but couldn't help the lingering guilt from flaring up since she had started her down this path of deviance and iniquity. She pressed a gentle kiss to Weiss's lips, pulling back to gaze down into her eyes.

“Love you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, reaching up to grasp her by the hair and yank her down for another kiss, and another.

It wasn't long before their nude bodies were entwined as their lips danced, enjoying the warmth and the familiarity. The warmth built until it blazed, thighs slipping between thighs and rubbing against where the heat seemed to be collecting. It always seemed like Yang's was much hotter than hers. The more their bodies shifted, the slicker the trails they left behind until it felt like they had never left the lake at all.

“Weiss…” Their lips only parted long enough for that one word to slip out, and yet it was enough to double the passion for the young Schnee, rolling to perch atop Yang's body as their hips began to slam harder and harder. That broke the kiss for good, as they were beginning to need more and more air to keep going. “Weiss!”

The few people who ever got to see the mighty Yang looking so open, so submissive and given over to her own pleasure, should count themselves lucky. Weiss certainly did.

Within a few more minutes, the two of them were completely spent and lying curled around each other, catching their breath. Nothing had changed while they let passion take over. Birds still chirped in the trees and circled overhead, and the water still moved, and the wind still stirred the blades of grass surrounding their little blanket-island.

“Okay, so…” Yang began petting up and down her stomach again. “This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I brought you up here.”

“Liar.”

“Really! I'd be lying if I said I wasn't secretly hoping for it, sure, but… I also just wanted to have a nice day with you after all the craziness.”

Chuckling lightly, Weiss leaned up to press her lips into Yang's cheek. “Mission accomplished. I've been having a great time. Whoopee or no whoopee.”

“Who still calls it ‘whoopee’?” she chortled, earning her a hearty pinch on her ribs. “OW! Hey, hey!”

----------------------

They took their sweet time in getting dressed and the picnic packed up. Partly because Yang kept trying to undress Weiss again, and she had to take time to swat her away - even though she spent the whole time grinning. It was exactly what the two of them needed after so much strife in their lives lately.

“Wish I didn’t have to call it a night already,” Yang said over the road noise as they got back into Vale proper. “But… I kinda promised myself I would.”

“Promised yourself?”

Yang looked a little awkward. Weiss loved seeing her that way; it made her feel less like the only fish out of water in their relationship. Seeing her girlfriend display some vulnerability reminded her that they were both human, both figuring things out as they went.

“Well… your mom has had a really rough time, y’know? I don’t want to keep you out until all hours and make her worry.”

“Oh…” Her lips turned up into a small, pleased smile. “Yang, I… I didn’t think you ever thought twice about my mom. Thank you. I mean, on her behalf. That’s really sweet of you.”

Looking somehow proud and embarrassed at the same time, she dipped her head slightly. “Awww, it’s nothing.”

“No, it isn’t.” She leaned forward and squeezed her girlfriend a little tighter. “You’re a real gem.”

However, when they turned the corner and saw someone waiting on the Belladonna lawn, their little bubble of happiness receded - not completely, but the confusion definitely intruded on their bliss.

“Ruby?” Yang asked the worried-looking girl when she arrived. “What are you doing here?”

Stepping forward, the diminutive little sister tried to speak, but it came out more like a squeak than a speak. “I’m s-s-sorry if this is a bad time… but… do you have a minute?”

#princess and the dragons #freezerburn fanfic #freezerburn smut #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants #nsfw-Text

[joonsrack]

+Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

+Genre:  One shot (maybe an eventual series). It’s not fluff, it’s not angst, it’s....idk i’m bad at this.

+Word count: 2.1k

+Summary: 

“Here stands Kim Namjoon, tyrannic CEO who has made the last few months of your life a blur of stressful weeks and nonexistent weekends. He's a workaholic on a good day, and a demon on the bad ones. Not a...whatever this is.

‘He’s flirting, right?’ The little voice from the back of your mind supplies. ‘Shut up’ is all you answer.”

Meeting your boss in a BDSM club is probably the last thing you were expecting coming here.

+Warnings: NSFW (nothing graphic but story takes places in a BDSM club), BDSM themes, implied switch namjoon, implied dom reader, i know nothing about BDSM and BDSM clubs, don’t @ me. (if i should have tagged anything else pls let me know uwu)

+A/N: This is my first reader x member type of fic, and i gotta say, it was pretty fun. I wrote this for the Secret Santa event organized by the amazing people at BTS writers collective, as a gift for the lovely @freekyegg​ 💖💖💖. You said your fave namjoon was harness and choker namjoon, so my brain went straight for the kinky stuff.... I  hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it! Also this fic has nothing to do with Christmas, idk how that happened..

ENORMOUS thank you to @spicykoreantatertots​ who edited this on a 2 hour deadline, when it wasn’t even finished yet 🥰💖

Of all the places you thought you’d be spending your Friday night, sitting in the office of a BDSM club owner, discussing SSC and setting up your membership, was not one of them. But here you are, sitting in the office of a BDSM club owner, going through the terms and conditions of your membership.

Jung Hoseok smiles at you before handing you a gold pen. The man looks immaculate in his double breasted gray suit, not a crease in sight. Despite his smile, there’s a dangerous aura to him. One of complete and utter control.

“Sign here, here, and here. It’s very important that you respect these rules, for everyone’s safety. We also insist that first timers stick to observation during their first visit. Wear this.” He says, putting down a red bracelet on the desk before you. “Then other customers will know not to propose you. You can also choose to wear this bracelet whenever you feel like just watching from the sidelines.” You hand him back the membership contract after you’ve finished signing on all the proper lines, and he examines your signature before nodding in approval. “There’s a bar at everyone’s disposal, but we don’t allow heavy alcohol consumption, since we prioritize clear consent.”

The nameplate on the desk with 'Jung Hoseok - Headmaster' engraved in cursive makes you feel like you’re back in high school. Except this is not high school, and sitting on the other side of the desk is a successful attractive young man, not a bald idiot.

“There’s some private rooms to everyone’s disposition, which you can either reserve in advance or the same night depending on the availability. We have one room for people who like to have an audience, which we call the Window Room.” 

You nod along with him, a little overwhelmed by all the information. He smiles reassuringly at you, noticing your deer in the headlights look. It feels more predatory than anything else.

“There's single mixers every last Thursday of each month, open to the BDSM community, and sometimes there’s special events, themed nights or performances, which are posted on the website. Any questions?”

You shake your head, feeling so far out of your element, sitting in this chair, about to enter a whole new world you’ve been fantasizing about but never dared to seek out.

It took your best friend, Taehyung, digging a little too deep in your closet for one of your blouses and finding your box of accessories and outfit. You had flushed a deep red in embarrassment at having your secret exposed, but your friend had been quick to reassure you there was nothing to be embarrassed about. 

Then he’d shocked you into admitting he had a similar interest.

“You asked me once why I have a leash at home when I don’t own a dog.” He had said, shrugging one shoulder, and that had been an eye opening moment for you.

And then, after revealing you’d never shared with anyone your interest for all things leather, whip and power dynamic, he had talked to you about this club.

“It’s called Club Dionysus. It’s for people interested in BDSM. There are spaces reserved for scenes, but you can also just chill at the bar and observe. It could be good for you, to explore this side of you, you know? Without any pressure to participate in anything.”

A few days later, after a hellish week of dealing with your tyrannic boss, distracting yourself with a new experience seemed like an excellent idea.

The corset is hugging your body just right, your sheer stockings held in place by some garter and disappearing into your leather pencil skirt. The heels you have on would never be appropriate for a setting other than this one, making you feel like there’s power to each of your steps.

It’s definitely not the kinkiest outfit you own, but you chose to keep it tame for you first visit.

Taehyung is waiting just outside the door as Hoseok dismisses you from his office, wishing you an excellent time. He steers you toward the bar area, but that doesn’t stop you from mapping out the place. You had sneaked a peak at the club before being ushered into the Headmaster’s office, but it’s still a lot to take in once you’re finally free to let your eyes roam around.

The general theme colour seems to be dark palettes, dark wood details, and a little touch of red here and there, but definitely less than you were expecting. There’s the bar corner, which looks like any other club, save maybe for the bartender’s outfit. There’s some tables and then an open space, but it doesn’t seem to be for dancing, judging from the handcuffs hanging from the ceiling.

“For public punishment.” Taehyung specifies once he sees what you zeroed on.

You try to act unaffected, but it’s definitely going to stay in the back of your mind.

There’s a hallway that leads to a few closed doors, some with signs on them. It’s probably safe to assume these are “occupied” signs. Then there's a corner with a small stage, where those performances Hoseok mentioned probably take place. A Saint Andrew’s cross is placed on it, which you were kind of expecting, coming here.

Then, there’s a ceiling to floor window, giving into a darkened room.

You leave Taehyung at the bar waiting for you drinks, curious about what is standing on the other side. The room is dark, so you need to stick your face to the glass and shield your eyes from the light to see anything beyond the window.

You see some outlines, but you can’t make out exactly what’s in there, other than some dark furniture. You push your face even closer, tightening the shield around your eyes.

“You’re allowed to peak inside through the door, you know.” Someone says from behind you, startling you from how close they sound.

Your body seizes up in fight or flight response, survival instinct kicking in at the familiar voice. You know it so well; Too well. It follows you all day long, barking orders left and right, calling you at all hours to add to your workload. And then it wakes you up in the middle of the night, most of the time from stress nightmares.

Most of the time.

You deliberate about turning around and facing the most humiliating moment of your life, or just going straight for the exit without turning back. There isn't a lot of patrons in the bar right now, so the path to the door is probably clear. The only problem is that your feet are grounded to the floor, your heels feeling like they're suddenly made of concrete.

There's a little voice in the back of your mind whispering something that resemble 'Don't forget he's here too', but right now all you’re able to focus on is the presence you can feel, hovering over your shoulder. 

That's probably what describes best your relationship, him hovering over your shoulder.

Kim Namjoon has been breathing down your back since the first day you started working as his personal assistant, making your every waking moment a living hell. Go figure he would be doing it here too.

You brace yourself for his usual cold demeanour. You're persuaded this man hates you, always bossing you around and criticizing your every move.

You aren’t expecting the soft grin pulling at the corner of his lips. 

Neither are you expecting… everything else.

Gone is his everyday slicked back hairstyle, his silver hair coiffed into a more relaxed, swoop to the side look. He’s wearing this black satin blouse with see through sleeves and leather jeans, which is already a lot to compute, quite different from the suit you’re used to seeing him in. What makes your brain short circuit though, is the harness. 

A leather belt cinches his slim waist, two leather straps attached to it, running over his strong shoulders. There’s two leather cuff on each of his wrist, over the sleeves ends, and the harness look is completed by a simple black choker, looking stark against Namjoon’s neck.

You feel your mouth go dry, your breathing getting a little short and heart beating a little faster. 

All because of the stress of meeting your boss here, of course. No other reason at all.

“Hello sir.” You say, finally finding your voice. Your head is in a state of chaos, your brain on a loop of everything going on with Namjoon’s outfit. 

“Rule #6 if I remember correctly; Relationships and dynamic with people you might know outside of these walls do not apply inside Club Dionysus.” Namjoon recites, eyes on your red bracelet. He takes a very small step back that doesn’t do anything for the lack of space between you. 

You would feel caged in, except he has his hands in his back.

You’re not exactly sure why he’s telling you that, although you vaguely remember Jung Hoseok mentioning this earlier. The confusion must show on your face, because Namjoon carries on.

“You don’t need to address me as sir here.” He says, his smile turning sharper. “That is… unless we’ve previously agreed upon that.” 

Oh. Oh.

There’s something happening here. A shift in the air. A glint in his eyes. 

You swallow, and it sounds ten times louder than usual, despite the soft background music.

“I- hm. Interesting.” You’ve probably never sounded so dumb, but you can’t think over the sirens going off in your head.

This is a weird situation. Something you were not expecting, not in a million years. And how could you? 

Here stands Kim Namjoon, tyrannic CEO who has made the last few months of your life a blur of stressful weeks and nonexistent weekends. He's a workaholic on a good day, and a demon on the bad ones. Not a...whatever this is.

‘He’s flirting, right?’ The little voice from the back of your mind supplies. ‘Shut up’ is all you answer.

Unaware of your internal struggles, Namjoon snorts at your lack of response, looking...endeared? Is that the correct word? Is your obvious lack of brain cells endearing to him?

“I’m not your boss here, and you’re not my personal assistant.”

“Ehrm, I see. Should I call you Mr.Kim then?”

“If you wish to.” He says, looking particularly amused by your awkwardness.

Which, rude. This is a stressful place to meet your boss, how dare he.

“If I wish to, huh? So, I could choose to call you anything I’d like?” You can’t stop the slight flare of temper, not liking being made fun off. If he wants you to treat him as an equal, then treat him as an equal you will.

Namjoon nods once, his tongue quickly wetting his lips before adding, “Of course I will need to agree to it beforehand.”

You catch Taehyung from the corner of your eyes, waving at you from the bar with a question mark on his face. Namjoon follows your line of sight, focusing on your friend and frowning.

“Would you agree to being called ‘baby boy’, then?” you taunt, standing straighter than you have so far. 

He snaps his attention back to you, looking taken aback by the switch of demeanor.

You can’t stop your mind from conjuring the memory of those dreams, the one that wake you up in the middle of the night. Blurs of a long body tied to a bed, a diamond choker sparkling on his neck, a voice, usually hard, sounding soft and whimpery.

The wide eyed look Namjoon is giving you is pretty close to the one you usually see on his face during those short nighttime visits. 

“I-” He says, but stops, looking flustered. You feel a growing satisfaction at having reversed the roles.

The novelty of the situation, that left you feeling unsteady, is starting to subside, leaving you sure footed in your stilettos. 

You purse your lips, cocking a brow.

“Only if you agree, of course.”

You see his throat work, making his choker shift as he swallows once, then twice.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not allowed to take part in the events tonight,” You say, showing off your bracelet. “so I guess we should keep this discussion for next time.” You side step him, never breaking eye contact.

“After all, we need to talk about what you’re going to call me, too.” 

“In fact,” He finally says after a moment of silence, his earlier confidence replaced by something more tentative. “we should discuss it in great detail.” He finishes.

You smile in lieu of a response, before giving one last appreciative look to his attire, lingering on the black choker. You feel his eyes on you as you make your way back to the bar, already looking forward to next Friday.

#magicshopnet #secretsanta2019 #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #namjoon fic #i hope you enjoyed Roxy uwu

[saiilorstars]

The Fairy Tale Memoirs

Author’s Note: This is part of a one-shot/AU companion story to Stars Dance & Falling in Temptation that features Avalon Reynolds and the Doctor (from 9th-13th Doctor) along with other companions + Lena Reynolds.

// Current Masterlist //

taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog

Ch. 2: Aurora

Summary: Avalon Reynolds bumps into a future incarnation of the Doctor, the 13th Doctor, and it’s pretty hard from the Doctor’s end to keep things…spoiler-free especially when she has a weakness.

A/N: An AU based on the last chapter of Falling in Temptation.

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

"She's a miracle. Just like you."

No. She was no miracle. She was a connection. She was a connection to the last person Avalon Reynolds would ever see in her life and yet the person she wished she could see with all her heart.

Aurora Leigh Reynolds was the tiniest being Avalon had ever seen, the tiniest thing Avalon had ever carried in her arms. She was afraid that one of her movements might hurt the infant but Aurora was a relentless, smiling infant. Instead of fussing like any other newborn, Aurora went right for the squeals. One of them actually scared Avalon who'd thought that something was wrong.

"She's just happy, that's all," Rory assured her after one particular squeal made Avalon panic.

"I thought newborns were supposed to be quiet," she said with a thoroughly puzzled face. Her grandparents chuckled at her.

"Well human newborns usually are," Rory said, purposely trailing off so that Avalon would get the jist without having to hear it. It could be too soon.

Avalon would of course understand. Her face fell sad for a moment. She passed a hand over her newborn daughter's tuft of brown hair. The simple movement earned Avalon a small smile from the infant. Aurora seemed to never want to stop smiling.

Already she was resembling her father.

"So, what do you want to do?" Amy pulled Avalon out of her thoughts. "You can come stay with us on Earth and we can help you raise her or...you can stay on New Earth. It's completely your choice."

Avalon nodded, silently thanking her for that. She didn't have many options anymore, not since the Doctor decided to drop her and her grandparents off on Earth nearly a year ago. He never gave her the option to choose whether or not she wanted to stay with him and fight the Silence. No, he decided that it was on him to fight Kovarian and her stupid war. He decided that she and everyone else had to stay away from the TARDIS. He took her decisions away and yet, as mad as she wanted to be right now, she couldn't find the energy to. Aurora was relentless in that aspect as well. No one could be sad around her. At only two days born, she had the talent to make anyone smile and laugh if they were around her. Her mother would definitely need that.

Up until now, Avalon didn't realize how much she would need her daughter to stay. When the Doctor left, everything became like a haze to her. Days passed by without a care. Time was nonexistent. All she knew was that her Fairy Tale Man left her and with no sign of when he would come back, if he would ever come back. She didn't want to think of the possibility that the Silence might get to kill him. But all that had to be set aside the moment she realized she was left pregnant.

At that moment, she had to first get over the fact she. was. pregnant. If she was throwing up during those first days, it was mostly because she was so shocked. She and the Doctor had never had that conversation and suddenly it seemed like one of the things they should've talked about way in the beginning.

"Maybe we should try to get in contact with the Doctor," Lena had suggested to Avalon during the first week after they'd learned of the pregnancy.

Avalon stood in front of her long wall mirror. She'd taken to staring at herself in those days, like she'd soon find herself wearing that belly bump already. She swallowed hard. "You think I haven't tried getting through to him?"

Lena glanced at Amy and Rory in the room. They were treading carefully but they were aware that one thing, even a small thing, could make Avalon explode. She'd been through a lot and now she'd have another thing — a small, crying thing — to handle.

"The stupid Fairy Tale Man left me out of heroics and now he doesn't know that he's..." Avalon gulped. It was still all so new and surreal. "He's going to be a father."

"We could try River again," Lena was still waiting for Amy and Rory to make a comment that they would try phoning their daughter again. Neither of them said anything. In fact, neither of them were even looking at her nor Avalon. They were exchanging secretive glances.

Avalon caught them through the mirror. "What?"

Amy cleared her throat. "Um...Rory and I have been talking..."

"Yeah, we just don't want to upset you..." Rory said slowly.

Avalon turned sideways and met her grandparents' nervous gazes. "What is it?"

"Don't get upset, Ava," Rory took a few steps towards her, "But maybe...maybe it's best if you don't contact the Doctor."

Avalon's reaction was quick and expected. Her face scrunched in outrage. "What!?"

Even Lena was left confused. "Guys...how could you say that? My big brother would definitely want to know that he's going to have a baby!"

"No one is saying he wouldn't," Amy clarified first, holding her hands up to show she wasn't interested in arguing. "Of course he would...but you also have to realize why he left us in the first place."

"The Silence," Avalon said quickly. Of course she knew why the Doctor left all of them in Leadworth. How could she forget?

"As painful as it was for him to leave, Avalon, he did do it for a noble reason," Rory slowly came up to Avalon. "He doesn't want us to get hurt."

"Rory—"

"Just think for a second, Ava," Rory clapped his hands together in a praying gesture, "What would the Silence do if they found out that you were pregnant with the Doctor's child?"

Avalon's breath was caught in her throat. Fear blossomed across her chest as she realized what really would happen. She turned back to the mirror, her hands coming to rest over her stomach. A fierce protectiveness took her over that for a moment, one split moment, she forgot about the Doctor and herself.

Thebabythebabythebabythebaby. She swallowed hard. Tears filled her eyes once she realized what she had to do. No matter how much it hurt her — and it did — she couldn't let anything happen to her baby. The Doctor had put her first and now she would put their child first.

Little Aurora Leigh Reynolds had been born healthy and strong on July 29, 2011. Avalon had been terrified during her pregnancy about what she would do with a baby but the moment she had held her daughter, she didn't care anymore. She didn't care about the fear nor the fact that she knew zero about being a mother. The Sapling had been such a different story but he had never solely depended on her...not like Aurora.

"New Earth," Avalon finally decided. She met her grandparent's eyes with a sad but certain smile. "I'm going to spend some time on New Earth. If the Silence dare to come for us at least New Earth has more protection than our Earth."

Nobody could argue with that logic.

Avalon lightly touched her daughter's cheek. Almost immediately she was granted a smile. It created a whole new type of a rush, a sweet one that she wouldn't trade for anything in the world. The Silence will never touch you, she silently vowed. The Doctor had taken on his mission and now so would she.

~ 0 ~

Over the next months, Avalon trained herself to always look over her shoulder. She lived with her family on New Earth, using those first years to learn everything she could about being a parent to her daughter. Her uncle Ryland was the best teacher she could've asked for. She learned how to differentiate the cries of her daughter to know when she was hungry, when she needed a changing, and simply when she just wanted to be with her mother.

It was all so new to her.

As months turned into years, Avalon fell into the role of a mother. She couldn't help wonder how she was doing it but sometimes she realized that she hadn't realized she was being a mother. Sometimes, things just came easily.

Right now was one of those moments. Aurora was just over a year and, by far, still the smallest and softest thing Avalon had ever seen in her life. She was drinking from her bottle on her mother's bed, dressed in a fuzzy white onesie with tiny roses. Avalon was lying right beside her, helping to tilt the bottle every now and then. Despite it being a year later, it was still so strange to Avalon how Aurora was hers. The little baby, toddler, was hers and just hers. Aurora depended solely on her and even though it was the hardest job Avalon ever had, she couldn't fathom turning it away. Giving up Aurora was like giving up her life in the process. Avalon wasn't interested.

Aurora pulled the bottle from her mouth to yawn, making her mother chuckle lightly. Avalon set the empty bottle on the night stand then reached over the toddler for a pink blanket. "Someone's sleepy." Aurora reached up for the blanket, and in the process her legs too. Avalon laughed. Aurora was a giddy toddler even when sleep beckoned her. "Settle down, Aurora. It's time for sleep." Aurora yawned and turned her little body towards Avalon. "Oh no, I know that trick," Avalon shook her head. "One turn, and then you're all smiley and suddenly...Mummy has one loud, wide-eyed baby!"

As if Aurora understood — and Avalon was sure that she did — she giggled. "Yes!"

Avalon shook her head again. If it didn't hurt her to admit it, she would say Aurora was acting a lot like the Doctor right now. "Okay, c'mon now," Avalon draped the blanket over her daughter, making sure to turn Aurora flat on her back. "Shhh, just lay for Mummy," she gently stroked Aurora's hair. "It's time to sleep."

Aurora brought the blanket to her nose to start that odd rubbing Avalon noticed a long time ago. It was Aurora's own self-lullaby. Her eyes watched Avalon continue to stroke strands of her hair.

'I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam..." Avalon sang her daughter's favorite bedtime tune. It was funny how things worked sometimes. Aurora's favorite bedtime song was the very song that her parents shared during their most special moments together. "And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream..." Avalon smiled softly as Aurora's eyes slowly fell shut. In a matter of minutes, she was fast asleep. "Goodnight." Avalon lowered her head down to kiss Aurora's forehead.

~ 0 ~

Avalon began to notice just how different her daughter truly was — and would be — from all the other children. Trying to be a good mother and offer her daughter some normal social interaction, she enrolled Aurora into school, but she did so with a different name to keep her identity hidden: Aurora Smith. A light call to her father who was still missing. Aurora turned out to be a model student, a student who excelled at almost every task assigned to her. Even as a baby she'd hit all her milestones far before a human baby would.

Aurora learned to be cautious like her mother but even she was aware that she knew more than she should. What's more, she liked knowing that fact. She liked knowing that she could learn more, retain more, and handle more. She didn't understand before, and her mother wouldn't exactly explain it, but she knew that her ability stemmed from her parents...and when she was older, she understood that her father played a vital role.

"I love it, sweetie," Avalon was in tears when her five year old daughter presented her newest project to the family.

Aurora had recreated the TARDIS as a small model. Unlike her great grandmother's wooden painted model, Aurora had created the model out of actual metal. She'd carved the small police sign outside on the doors and small glass fragments — something her mother was actually furious about — to pose as the windows.

"And watch, Mummy!" Aurora reached for something under the TARDIS and with one flick, lights twinkled at the top. "I figured out how to—"

"Create electricity," Avalon sighed with a smile playing on her lips. "Of course you did." Of course her daughter would be able to figure out how to add light to a frikin toy model with absolutely no help at all.

"Do you think Daddy would like it?" Aurora's question left Avalon frozen. The five year old was excitedly waiting to hear her mother's answer.

Avalon ultimately nodded her head. A few tears escaped from her eyes. "Of course he would," she sniffed. "Come here!" She moved to the couch and opened her arms for her daughter to join her.

Aurora beamed. She swiped the TARDIS model off the coffee table and jumped on her mother's lap. "I want to leave it somewhere Daddy might see it. Then he could find us with it."

Avalon's vision blurred. She almost sobbed right there and then. No matter how many years passed by, she couldn't let go of the pain the Doctor's abandonment caused. She knew now that he was trying to protect her, trying to sacrifice himself for her — because it's the same thing she was doing for Aurora — but it never stopped. Her heart was as broken as it was the day she saw the TARDIS disappear from her sight.

"Mummy, where can I leave it?" Aurora asked as she toyed with the model in her hands.

"Um," Avalon sniffed, "Maybe...maybe in Mummy's bedroom window." She suggested that because her room faced the backyard away from the streets. No one would be able to see it and draw attention. She was sure that Aurora would understand the concept of 'hiding' but she never wanted Aurora to know that the terrible story — the history — of her family fighting the Silence. So, Avalon would re-invent a few stories here and there to avoid her daughter finding out the terrible truth.

"Mummy," Aurora called, her fingers tinkering with the twinkling lights of her toy model, "What's the real TARDIS like?"

"Oh, Aurora, you already know," Avalon said. She had little to no hope that Aurora would desist on the question. It was one of her favorite stories involving her father.

"I know," Aurora let her head fall against her mother's chest, "But I like to hear it. You say she's like one of my grandmothers."

"She is," Avalon wrapped an arm around her daughter. She played with Aurora's ginger waves. "Your grandmother River is my Mum but...the TARDIS is why Mummy is so different and, by extension, you too. The TARDIS is a wonderful place. It's infinite inside."

"Goes on forever and ever," Aurora recited with a giggle. "There's a swimming pool, a big library like in Beauty and the Beast!"

"Yeah," Avalon chuckled. "It went on forever and ever. You could walk the hallways and the TARDIS would move them around to make it easier for you."

"Or when she was trying to be silly with you," Aurora tilted her head up with a giggle.

Avalon looked down at her daughter and felt her heart skip a beat. Aurora's eyes were a perfect copy of the Doctor's. Bright green eyes blinked up at her with all the excitement in the world, yet another exact trait of the Doctor's. "Yeah," Avalon whispered and gently touched her daughter's cheek. "She was very silly with your Mum...but she was also very kind. She made a whole media room just for me."

"That's where you used to watch movies with Daddy," Aurora prided herself with her memory. She remembered all the stories her Mummy would tell her. "And danced! You said that's where you first danced with Daddy."

Avalon's face started to fall at the bittersweet memories. "Yes..." She didn't like remembering them often, it hurt too much, but it was also painful to forget.

"Do you think Daddy would dance with me?" Aurora asked suddenly.

Avalon smiled softly at her. She tucked a ginger wave behind Aurora's ear. "What other princess would he dance with?"

"You," the child answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

Avalon laughed shortly. "I, uh, I think my time as the Princess ended a long time ago."

"Right! Because you're the Queen now!" Aurora hopped off her mother's lap and twirled around with her TARDIS model above her head. "And I'm the princess! And Daddy's the King!" She hummed a tune to herself while she continued to dance.

Avalon watched her daughter with tears in her eyes. "A knight," she said loud enough for Aurora to hear.

She stopped for a second. "What?"

Avalon quickly cleared off the loose tears in the corner of her eyes. "Your father never wanted to be a prince. He was a Knight in shining armor." She heaved a heavy sigh. "Because he was always there to save Mummy."

"Well, where is he right now? Do you know?"

Avalon struggled hard not to sob on the spot. "No, sweetie, I don't. Knowing your Daddy...he's probably still out there saving the world." She hated what came next because it was always the same. Aurora would ask when her father would come for them. Each time Avalon would come up with an answer to dissuade Aurora from asking anything else. She feared the day where a simple-worded answer would no longer suffice for Aurora and that her curiosity would lead her to go in search of real answers that could hurt her.

~ 0 ~

Aurora would continue to grow up with an exceptional intelligence. It would come to the point where Avalon could no longer stay in the same area. Teachers, parents, people, were starting to notice Aurora more and more. She couldn't let that happen but she didn't want to stunt Aurora's natural intelligence either so the only logical thing to do was move. It broke their family's hearts to see them move but being in a new city would mean a new start. Aurora could continue being herself and that's what mattered.

Avalon long ago abandoned her own dreams and ambitions to make sure no one noticed them. And as the years went by, she became used to it. Her only priority was Aurora and her life. She was keenly aware of everyone that knew them, what they thought of the mother and daughter. When she became aware that once again too much attention was being drawn on them, she made plans to move.

"Why are we moving again?" Aurora would question her mother as soon as she came home and top up their apartment was full of boxes. Aurora resembled a ten year old girl but, with her parents' biological inheritance, she was nearing fifty now.

"Oh you know, Mummy's weird like that," Avalon offered her daughter a warm smile. "She wants to see another city."

The truth was that Aurora had inadvertently drawn too much attention during one of her science fairs. There were too many scholars coming after them with questions. Avalon couldn't allow that.

"Where are we going?" Aurora let her school bag drop on the floor. She came to the nearest open box and peeked inside. She saw portraits of their family stuffed inside.

"Um, two cities down," Avalon headed for the kitchen. "Let me make sure I packed your mugs. Can't forget those, right?" Aurora had created special mugs that somehow cleaned themselves after being used. Something about using the right metal and adding 'a few tinks here and there'. She had sounded so much like the Doctor when she said that, it almost made Avalon cry on the spot.

Aurora picked up one of the portraits from the box in front of her. It was her Mummy when she was younger. Well, Aurora knew that her Mummy was younger. Avalon didn't age fast. She looked the same in almost every picture.

This one had Avalon in a park, sitting under a tree with her grandparents, Amy and Rory. They were laughing at something and Aurora guessed it was something to do with her great grandfather. He did say that they liked picking on him sometimes.

"I got them," Avalon returned shortly after. "Don't take out things, young lady, or we might forget something."

"Can we go to Earth, Mum?" The question stopped Avalon in her track. Aurora turned the portrait over for Avalon to see. "Grandma Amy and Grandpa Rory say they have a room for me in their house. Why can't we go live with them?"

Avalon sighed. "We've been over this, princess." She walked over to Aurora and bent down beside her. "Earth doesn't work like New Earth does. If we go back and I say that you're my daughter, they're going to ask a lot of questions. Plus, take it from someone who was nearly as smart as you are, Mummy had a lot of trouble at school because she knew more than human children did." She brushed some ginger strands out of Aurora's face. "Mummy never wants you to hide your intelligence. New Earth is where you can shine like the star that you are." With some supervision, she silently lamented. "You don't need the restrictions that Earth has. But tell you what, we can have Grandma Amy and Grandpa Rory visit us in our new house."

"And Grandma River!?"

"...sure," Avalon said with a tighter smile. Despite having a rocky relationship with her biological mother, she never let it affect the relationship River had with Aurora. Even if it pained her to admit it, Avalon knew that River was the only person qualified to teach Aurora about space and its mechanics should something were to ever happen to her. Avalon didn't like thinking that the Silence might one day capture her but she had to for the sake of her daughter. She had made a plan a long time ago that if something happened to her, Aurora would go to River. River knew more about the galaxies and civilizations which meant she was the only one, besides the Doctor, who could effectively hide Aurora.

Several cities later would see the entire Ponds reunited in Avalon's new home. Aurora was ecstatic to have all her grandparents in the same room. She was eager to show everyone the new inventions she'd come up with but also to play a good old fashion tea party with them.

"She seems happy," River remarked to her own daughter whilst they watched Aurora force a tiara onto Amy's head.

Avalon nodded silently. She often became reserved when River was around. Fifty years after learning River was her real mother did nothing to smooth over their relationship.

"You know that if you ever want to leave New Earth...you can give me a call," River met Avalon's glance.

"Thanks," she said quietly. "But for now I want to keep Aurora on one planet. It's bad enough that I keep making her change cities, I won't make her change planets too."

River nodded, understanding completely. Though she didn't always talk to Avalon, she was aware of how many times they'd moved around.

Avalon watched her daughter move around Rory as she talked him up to be a Knight in shining armor...just like her Daddy. "Have you...do you know where he is right now?" The question had come out in a frail whisper.

River's head snapped in Avalon's direction, eyes wide to the brim. In fifty years, it was the first time Avalon asked about the Doctor. "I don't..."

The tears were quick to pool in Avalon's eyes. "I just wonder if 50 years have passed for him or...maybe centuries. Is he still alive? Did the Silence win? If they didn't and he won...why hasn't he come back?" Maybe he'd gotten over the Ponds altogether and he was traveling with someone else. It broke her heart but not as much as the thought that Aurora would never get to meet him.

"I don't know where he is," River admitted. "I haven't exactly searched for him either."

"Do you think he's still alive?"

"Very much, yes."

Avalon gave her a questioning look. "How do you know?"

River smiled. "Because that man never dies. I imagine he's still fighting out there."

"Or maybe he just moved on..."

"Never. No one could get over you, sweetheart."

Avalon chuckled genuinely. "Right." She let her laugh die in the following seconds. She watched Aurora explain to her grandparents how the story of their tea party would go and to no one's surprise, it involved a lot of space travels. "River, she's been asking about the places I traveled to in my days in the TARDIS. She wants to go."

"I imagine she does," River smirked. With the parents she had, it was no surprise that Aurora would want to seek the stars as well.

"I can't go gallivanting around the galaxies. I'd put us in danger. They know my face but they don't know Aurora's yet. Maybe, one day, if you'd like, you could take Aurora somewhere. Like a field trip."

River was thoroughly shocked. "Really?"

Avalon nodded. "Yeah. No one on New Earth could teach her the things you already know about the galaxies. I certainly don't know as much as you. Aurora's young but I know that she wants to be up there. She should have the opportunity to learn."

"I'd love to," River said in a heartbeat.

A warm smile spread across her lips. She met Aurora's gaze and laughed. The child had switched the toys around so that Amy held the sword and Rory wore the tiara.

A/N: Part 2 is on the way!

#ocappreciation #doctor who #11th doctor #dw imagine #11th doctor imagine #11th doctor fics #doctor who fics #dw fics #fic: falling in temptation

[queenofmoons]

For Blue, Blue Skies

Read it Here on AO3

Mathematically, one of two things should have happened when Peter and Harry became friends. The first solution was that Peter’s negative social status would bring Harry down. The second solution was that Harry’s overwhelming social prowess would make Peter popular enough that Flash Thompson would invite him to a party.

It actually ended up equalling zero.

Flash had stopped bothering him. At least, he waited until Peter was a few steps ahead of him before telling Liz how much Peter Parker could suck it. That was something Peter could handle.

Peter was invited out because Harry was going out.

“Come get drinks with us,” he would say as he stood in the mirror tying his tie. He’d watch Peter in the reflection as he flipped through the radio channels pretending to be busy. He was waiting for Harry to leave so he could slip out the window and into the night. “I convinced Gwen to come.”

For the first time, Peter had something resembling a friend group, even if the only people he could consider himself close to were Harry, Gwen, and MJ. On the occasional Friday night he found himself out instead of swinging around. He went to parties, he flirted, he fell in love. Peter actually got to be Peter instead of being Spider-Man, and it felt amazing.

The first time Gwen leaned into him, cheeks flush from the alcohol, and whispered into Peter’s ear that she hoped they could do this again, he forgot Betty Brant’s name altogether.

Peter wasn’t an outcast looking over his shoulder anymore. He also wasn’t too popular for his “job.” Harry’s friendship had helped develop a happy balance between social life and vigilantism.

Social indifference wasn’t the only benefit to Harry’s friendship. Having a place to live was decently nice, especially since he was letting Peter stay in his apartment for free. There was also the fact that Harry’s father was Norman Osborn, owner and CEO of the largest tech company on the east coast.

“Take the job.” Harry urged for the umpteenth time. “You’re a hard worker. It’s a job you’ll be able to get on your own eventually. It’s not cheating to get a head start.”

That’s exactly what cheating was. That didn’t make the offer any less appealing.

“It doesn’t feel right, Har,” Peter said because his suit felt hot under his clothes. Harry didn’t know just how well Peter actually knew his father. Thankfully, Norman hadn't shown any sign of remembering his stint as the Green Goblin. That meant that he didn't remember Peter being Spider-Man, but Peter was sure that luck would run out eventually. If a hit to the head could make him forget, what said a harder hit to the head wouldn't make him remember? It was also because… “I don’t want to get a job just because I’m your friend.”

“Fine.” Harry kicked his shoes off as he pushed into the apartment. “How about this? You interview with my dad, just like anyone else, and you see how it goes?”

Peter hesitated. He was going to be out of college soon enough, and a leg up would be nice, especially considering the fact that he'd had a hard time in class due to his "job." Besides, if Norman was going to remember him, not taking the job wouldn't change that.

“No guarantees?” The corner of Peter’s lip twitched.

Harry held out a fist. “No guarantees.”

Peter got the job. When he approached Harry about this, straddling the line between ungrateful and triumphant, Harry had simply shrugged and slid the bowl of cereal he had poured across the table to Peter. “I guess this calls for celebration, then. You were qualified. I’m proud of you, man. When you start making bank I’m gonna start charging you rent.”

Peter smiled and ate a bite of cereal.

Harry’s friendship didn’t come without its downfalls. It was something Peter picked up on slowly. Piece by piece. After the night at the theater, after their fight. After Harry had tried to kick Peter out.

Harry had more pills in his medicine cabinet than a pharmacist had at work. Quite a few of them weren’t legal. Even more were, which was more concerning.

Spider-Man could fight off villains (and he did his fair share of that), but Peter couldn’t approach Harry without getting trod on.

More than once broaching the subject led to an argument. It was always the drugs-- and MJ, sometimes, but most of those arguments were had when Harry wasn’t in his right mind. Peter felt, sometimes, like he was trying to hold onto a fraying thread. Being Harry’s friend sometimes felt like a full-time job, and that wasn’t something Peter could handle on top of work, school, and babysitting the city.

He talked to everyone he could think to-- MJ, Gwen, even Norman, but it didn’t do anything. The night Norman Osborn died, Harry was on bed rest and still suffering from a bad trip. For the past few days, the apartment had been quiet and eerie, but not nearly as unsettling as walking into the Osborn mansion and finding a discombobulated Harry. If Norman had let him see him, Peter might have been able to understand. He may have been given a chance to see his best friend as himself one last time. Instead, Peter saw him confused and lost, looking for someone to help him understand. Instead of helping, Peter continued his search for revenge.

When Norman Osborn died it didn’t take long for the papers to start blaming Spider-Man. For once, J. Jonah Jameson wasn’t publishing lies, just not the full truth, and the fact made Peter a little sick to his stomach.

After the glider had impaled him, Peter took the time to remove Norman's Green Goblin costume to ensure anonymity.

He did it to assuage his own guiltlessness.

Spider-Man doesn’t kill. Until he did, that is, and Peter was disgusted by how unashamed it made him feel. He had just killed someone-- he had just killed his best friend’s father and he felt nothing as he shifted the body back into position and prepared to leave with the mask and costume.

Even the thought of an avenged Gwen didn’t fill him with relief.

Peter returned home to find MJ outside their apartment. He took his confusion out on her.

They'd gotten medical clearance for Harry to attend Norman's funeral. Standing in line, Harry still looked gaunt and shaky. Peter watched him carefully. His Spider senses were tingling, but he couldn't figure out why, so he forced himself to chalk it up to MJ pointedly avoiding his gaze.

When the funeral ended, Peter put an arm out for a hug. Harry fell into him, his head buried in Peter's shoulder, his arm tight around his neck. Peter held them both upright as Harry shuddered. For the first time, Peter felt the stirrings of guilt.

"C'mon," he murmured into his friend's ear, "Let's head home."

After returning to the apartment, though, they simply sat in a simmering silence that Peter didn’t know what to do with.

“I hate him,” Harry said. There were tears streaming down his cheeks. Peter looked up, confused. “Spider-Man. I hate him.” Peter’s lips formed an ‘O.’

“They don’t know for a fact that it was him,” he tried carefully.

“God, not you too.” His hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist. “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck--”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Peter looked down at his lap.

“Everyone is out there defending him and saying what a hero he is--”

“I just meant--”

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Peter.”

“I am on your side,” Peter shot back. “Everyone is on your side, Harry. All any of us have wanted to do is help you.” He cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. “I know how you feel.” He chose to ignore the glare Harry aimed at him. “When my uncle died all I wanted to do was find the guy who killed him and… But that’s not the way, Har. You’ll get so obsessed with revenge that you’ll lose track of everything else.”

“That’s not the same thing.” Harry’s tone made Peter flinch. “The man who killed your uncle got arrested. I know who killed my dad, and no one is going to do anything about it but me.”

“People are investigating--”

“He killed Gwen, too. Are you just going to forget that?”

Peter’s heart jumped. He could tell by the look Harry was giving him that the line was meant to hurt him. He was supposed to rise to the bait. Instead he answered calmly, “of course I’m not.” and stood. “I should probably--”

"Wait, Peter." Harry reached out and grabbed Peter's wrist. "I’m sorry. Pl-please don't go."

Peter looked down at where they were connected. He swallowed, then met Harry's gaze. His eyes were wide and wild, and Peter suddenly thought about any medicine they'd missed when he, Gwen and MJ had swept the apartment. He thought about Harry, high, pleading, "please don't go. How will I know that you were really here, Peter?"

he said finally, "I'm just going to grab some water… I'll get you one, too."

MJ had silently forgiven Peter for the night Gwen died. She arrived at his apartment with two cups of coffee and a serious expression on her face. That was the day he broke down and told her. She'd taken it better than he expected (what was the proper way to respond when you found out that your ex's best friend is Spider-Man?), But she hadn't judged him or shied away.

“Gwen,” she said, “You didn’t…”

Peter shook his head. “She fell from the bridge. I tried to catch her. I don’t know what killed her, if it was the fall, if it was the webbing-- I don’t. I don’t know.”

“And Goblin was…”

“Harry’s father, yeah.”

“Jesus,” she breathed. “Peter, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. He ducked his head and stared at the top of the kitchen table. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.”

MJ put a hand on his. “I don’t blame you.” A pause. “But you gotta move on, Peter. Don’t let this eat you up.”

Coffee dates became something of a weekly event.

“You can’t save everyone,” MJ reminded him gently. They were sitting on a rooftop, staring out over the city. He could tell it bothered her too. Harry was her friend just as much as his. “He’s sick.”

She’d said this before the declaration. Before Harry-but-not-Harry had looked Peter in the eye and sworn to kill Spider-Man. Before he hadn’t heard from Harry in two weeks.

Peter took a long swig of his coffee. He was in his suit, but his mask was off. Sweat clung to his forehead and his muscles were sore, but this break made him restless. It was one of the first times he'd been out since Norman Osborn's death had been publicized and he'd forgotten how much he missed the freedom, the weightlessness.

“I can try,” he said. He felt guilty as soon as he said it. He tried again, “I can try to save him, at least.”

MJ sighed. “I’m not going to try to stop you,” she told him, which he knew meant do your best.

Trying his best started by talking to him as a friend. Harry, pulled up into himself, eyes glinting with something that wasn’t quite human, looking past Peter. It’s the drugs, Peter reminded himself, but it didn’t make him feel better.

It had taken Peter a while to find him. He was holed up in his father’s old house-- a place Peter hadn’t been welcome since Norman kicked him out when Harry had overdosed.

“I know a doctor,” Peter told him. “We can get you help.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry argued, and Peter sighed. He thought about the first time they’d had this conversation when Peter had tried to talk him out of taking so much medicine. That had been the first time Harry had warned him to mind his own business. “I’m fine.”

MJ had tried to talk to him, too. She was the only one who ever managed to get through to him, but he didn’t even budge this time.

“I’m not in the business of listening to women that aren’t dating me,” he said, and he didn’t apologize when MJ recoiled.

“It’s not him,” Peter reminded her, quiet, but he wasn’t sure anymore. He turned his attention back to the friend they were trying to help. “Why don’t you come home? This is a big place to be in all alone.”

“I’ve been using my father’s research,” Harry said, “It’s too much to bring home.”

“His research?” Peter leaned forward in his seat. “What for?”

Harry looked up with only his eyes and said simply, “I’m going to kill Spider-Man.”

When Peter saw the Green Goblin again, he didn’t have any doubts about who it was. The fight was harder than he’d expected it to be. He was disappointed.

He’d expected Harry to be better.

When Harry died, it was the silence that tore Peter apart. When his hand went slack in Peter’s, it wasn’t grief that struck Peter first. It was relief, and then guilt, and then crippling loneliness.

The ambulance sped up. EMTs swarmed. Peter realized it didn’t matter. Harry died gripping Peter’s hand. Silent. When the ambulance pulled up to the hospital, Peter swung away without looking back.

He recounted the battle to MJ on the front porch steps of the funeral home. His forehead was in his hand. His voice was steely.

This wasn’t the first time Spider-Man had failed to save someone. He’d gotten used to that. Being a hero meant losing people. It meant trying, and failing, and trying a little bit harder. This feeling was different. More Personal. It was akin to watching Uncle Ben die. Except, no one could blame Spider-Man for this, not even Peter.

For the first time in his life, Peter had failed to save someone.

“That’s not true, you know.” MJ frowned at Peter when he finished explaining this. “You did save him.”

Peter scoffed.

“I’m serious,” MJ said. She looked guilty. Peter hadn’t noticed that before.

"He asked me for help," Peter said. "The night Gwen died."

"Peter, you can't--"

"He begged me for help, MJ. And you know what I did?" Peter laughed, harsh, but tears welled up in his eyes. "I ignored him, and I went out, and I killed his dad."

MJ didn't respond. Her head was bowed, face cased in shadow. She was crying, sniffling quietly into the night.

“This might not have happened,” Peter said. His jaw was set. His eyes were misty. Part of him was tempted to reach out and comfort MJ by putting a hand on her shoulder, but it didn’t feel right. He kept his hands to himself. “If I had stayed.”

“Or it might have.” MJ wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. “What difference does it make? You can’t change the past, you can only live with what you’ve done.”

“What if I can’t?” Peter’s voice was hoarse.

“I don’t think you really have a choice.” MJ looked at him. She reached out and took his hand. Gentle. “I think about that night outside the theater all the time. And the next day. I was awful to him. I can’t take that back.”

Peter slumped and rested his head against the side of hers. People were starting to file out of the funeral parlor: classmates, family, press. Peter hadn’t realized how alone they’d been until they were suddenly in the middle of a crowd.

“You were able to give him peace, you know,” MJ said, just loud enough for Peter to hear. “Before he died. Forgiveness. Not everyone gets that.” She was rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand. “Sometimes saving people doesn’t mean punching their enemies.”

Peter closed his eyes. He hummed, something of agreement, or acknowledgment, or exhaustion.

"I said some pretty horrible things to you that night, too," he said. His voice was hoarse. "I never apologized for it."

"I know," MJ answered simply.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

The parking lot emptied out. Once again, it was just MJ and Peter outside of the funeral home, still connected, still holding hands. MJ sighed, long and low, and Peter hummed again. For a moment, he could imagine he was in the back of the ambulance again comforting his best friend. Reconciling. He thought, again, about that being a form of saviorism. The thought made his chest tight, but not in a bad way. He hoped Harry was at peace.

#this fic is nearly a year old so i thought I’d promote it #it’s one of my faves but it’s ALSO my first spider-man fic #it’s comicverse #comicverse #spider-man #spiderman #harry osborn #peter parker #mj watson #spider-man fic #spiderman fic #drug mention #fic #fanfiction #ao3

[welllpthisishappening]

All Was Golden in the Sky (24/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

— Rating: Mature AN: In which there are pirate ships in a bottle, dress fittings, genius Will Scarlett, sword fights, and day-drunk heroes. 

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam || 

“A ship in a bottle?” “Yup.” “Like. A bottle. An actual bottle?” “Regina, why would I make this up?” Emma asks, slumping further into the chair she’s considering never getting out of. Regina glares at the mirror in front of her, not able to actually turn towards Emma without facing the wrath of the woman currently pinning her dress together. 

“That is fair,” Mary Margaret reasons. She’s also being pinned, standing on a short stool on the other side of the room with her hair piled on her head because the top of her gown is only a little ostentatious and there may be hand-stitched flowers involved. 

Regina’s glare gets more potent. 

Emma is worried for the future of the mirror. The last thing they need to do is start destroying mirrors. Bad luck, or whatever. 

“Blackbeard claimed that Ursula did it,” Emma continues, “some punishment for giving Killian the bean--”

“--To get to you,” Regina finishes.

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’m just trying to get all the moving parts of this story to stay still for a moment.” “It is pretty romantic, don’t you think, though?” Mary Margaret asks. Emma makes a noise – mostly because it is pretty romantic, but she also knows that there’d been darkness involved and Killian may be ok, technically, they’re both be ok, technically, but his ship is also in a bottle and there’s a self-loathing streak that runs a mile-wide between the pair of them. 

Emma is going to fix this. 

She just can’t figure out how. 

“Here,” she says, twisting in the chair again until her legs are pulled up against her chest. One of the Arendelle women clicks her tongue in reproach, probably because Emma has refused to be measured for her gown and came into the room wearing actual pants, but it’s also the most comfortable she’s been in days and--”Look at this.” 

Emma brandishes the bottle in the air, meeting Regina’s eyes in the mirror. Eyes that go very thin, very quickly. “I’ve done everything I can think of,” she adds. “Focused my magic, tried to coerce the magic on it--” “--Wait, wait,” Regina interrupts sharply. “There’s magic on it? Still?” “It feels that way. Almost like it’s pushing back on me.” “Huh.” “That’s it? That’s the best you’ve got?” Regina shrugs -- only to be immediately reprimanded by a woman with what must be an unnecessary amount of pins in her hand. “Gods,” Regina grumbles. “Relax, I’m barely even moving. Emma, is there water in it?” “And did you steal that?” Mary Margaret adds, words shaking when she tries not to laugh. Emma presses her lips together. “Oh, you did, didn’t you? So what--he’s got no idea that you’ve copped his pirate ship?” Regina is definitely moving now. Her shoulders are shaking. They’re going to get banished from Arendelle for refusing to follow the rules of dress-fitting. “The pirate ship in a bottle,” she says, something almost resembling a smile on her face. 

The door swings open, colliding with a wall and, honestly, they’re never going to get new clothes again. Regina throws her hands up, flames flickering around her fingers as soon as Emma slams her feet onto the ground, her own magic surging under her skin and even Mary Margaret’s standing a bit straighter, a noise just audible outside the window. 

Bird wings. 

“What the hell is this?” Ruby demands, Will half a step behind her and sounding a little out of breath. She gapes at them, a skeptical look on her face because they all look like they’ve lost their minds. 

“Why do you not know how to enter a room normally?” Regina challenges. She blinks, the flames retreating back to wherever they actually go, and the woman next to her has dropped all of her pins. She looks very pale. 

Emma shakes her head. “It’s ok,” she says, not sure, exactly, who she’s talking to. Maybe herself. Her knuckles have gone very white around the bottle in her hand. “Just--Ruby is enthusiastic.” The pin-lady hums, neither an agreement nor disagreement, but rather something that sounds a bit like a condemnation and Regina throws her whole head back when she sighs. Ruby makes a face. “Jeez,” she mumbles, moving further into the room and hooking her foot around the empty chair next to Emma. “Tough crowd, huh? Did we get to the fun part yet?” Emma blinks. “What fun part?” “I’m going to assume that’s a no.”

“You’re a genius,” Regina drawls, hardly looking surprised when Ruby rolls her eyes. “And we’ve encountered a rather unexpected issue in the plan.”

“I figured that was just a rule for us at this point.”

“Ah, that’s decidedly negative,” Mary Margaret says. She hisses when a pin pricks her skin, a soft exclamation of pain that leaves her seamstress mumbling apologies under her breath. “And weren’t you supposed to bring David with you?” Emma is going to crack the bottle. Maybe that will actually help. That’s one of the few things she hasn’t tried yet. 

“He’s doing something else,” Ruby answers. “Something with Kristoff. Explaining captain of the guard duties. Or, you know, something. So I brought a replacement.”

“In a way that doesn’t sound as much like a lie as that,” Will says. He kicks the door closed behind him, flashing a smile at the pin-lady because that’s not very royal either. They’re all exceptionally bad at this. “And,” he adds, “David said that he didn’t want to see Mary Margaret’s dress before the ceremony. Something about that pesky tradition Elsa hates so much.” “I think you’re mixing references,” Emma mutters. 

Ruby hums in agreement, dropping back into the chair and draping her legs over the side. It makes her skirt look even more voluminous than it is, far too many layers and pieces of fabric and Emma refuses to acknowledge the metaphor there. It’s ridiculous anyway. “Is whatever you’re holding our unexpected and possibly negative issue?” “The issue itself isn’t negative,” Mary Margaret argues, but Emma’s already nodding, loosening her grip on the bottle and it takes her a moment to realize Will is staring at her. 

And cursing. 

Loudly. 

“That seems like a very negative issue. Here, shove over,” he adds, trying without much success to move Ruby. She growls at him, kicking back as soon he gets an arm around her waist, moving her himself. 

Emma nods, the tip of her tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek because she hasn’t known Will Scarlet very long, but he’s got a rather obvious thinking face. It leaves his forehead slightly wrinkled. “Cursed by Ursula and putting up quite a fight of returning to its correct size.” “Shit, she was the worst.  So, what? You’ve been trying to fix a boat?” “Ship.” “Ah, whatever,” Will mumbles. “Is it magical?”

“Were you a scholar in the Land Without Magic?” Regina mutters, Will huffing in response. That might be Ruby’s fault though. She’s perched on his left leg, her whole body shaking with the force of her cackle and he has to move his arm to make sure she doesn’t inadvertently elbow him in the side. 

It doesn’t work.  “It’s very magical,” Emma responds. “But that’s the part I don’t get. I’m--well, I’m me. And Ursula isn’t in this realm anymore--” “--But she had magic here,” Will interrupts. “And you and Jones brought magic back. I mean...like, across the board.” “Where are you going with this?” “Fuck if I know. I guess it’s not entirely surprising that the magic is holding. You said it, you’re here, Em. The future of magic and all that shit.” “You think the ship is staying in the bottle because I’m making sure the magic still exists?” Will shrugs, and Emma is certain she can actually hear the gears working in Regina’s head. “Oh, that makes sense,” Regina breathes, a soft laugh and another muttered string of words that ends with her hiking up the ends of her dress and spinning on the stool to stare at Emma. “You said there’s water in there, right?”

“Yuh huh.” “It’s not the bottle. It’s the water. Ursula could control the water and--well, how did she shrink it?” Emma is going to say something sarcastic. It will be snarky and un-royal and it will get Regina to stop staring at her like that. But then. “Oh fucking hell,” she whispers, Will snickering and Ruby not appreciating the way it makes her shake on his leg. “Blackbeard said they were on the water when it happened. He’d been sailing and Killian was already gone and the Dark One showed up on deck and--” She exhales, a quick swipe of her tongue over her teeth because this makes sense and she’s very glad Will is there. With his thinking face. “He said Ursula did it, the shrinking, I mean. And I never really thought about it, but that’s got to be what happened, right?” “You’re making zero sense,” Ruby says. “And it’s going to be really hard to get to the fun stuff if you don’t have a ship to follow through on the plan.” “Wait, what?” Emma’s lungs need to be studied. She tilts her head, confusion rippling down her spine, but then Will’s groaning and still staring at her. She doesn’t blink. “Ursula attacked us with all that water in the bar, right?” he asks. “And that’s how she cursed Jones too. Added a bit of something to the water so it would fuck up the bean when he used it.” “Yeah,” Emma agrees. “Keep going.” “The water is the thing, Em. She could manipulate it, magic it, whatever, to do anything she wanted. And then she’d just...sing people into insanity.” “I’m sorry, she’d what?” Mary Margaret sputters. She steps away from another round of measurements, sinking onto the edge of her stool in a cloud of fabric and flowers and more than a few unstitched strings. 

“She was a siren,” Emma explains. “She was trying to get Killian to remember things by playing music in the bar. And, you know...drowning us.” “Right, right, right. That leaves the Jolly where, exactly?” “Shrunk,” Regina answers. “By magical water that’s still touching the ship. As long as the water is in there, then---” She trails off with a huff of frustration, eyes flitting towards Ruby with unspoken plans that are only a little annoying. 

Emma clicks her teeth. “What aren’t you saying? I mean...this is not great, but if we can’t figure it out--” “--No, no, you can,” Will cuts in. He nearly throws Ruby on the ground when he jumps up, an exuberance and energy that she’s not sure she’s ever seen from him before. It’s impressive. “You’ve got to counter the water.” “Excuse me?” “The water is the magic, right? And you’ve been...what? Battling a bottle?” “It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that.” “Well,” Regina muses, and Emma is only a little disappointed that her several thousand scathing retorts die on the tip of the tongue she’s currently sticking out. 

“I mean, it is a little bit,” Will reasons. “But I get it. You think it’s all about the cage and it’s not. It’s about what’s inside the cage.” “This is getting way too existential for me,” Ruby mutters. “We’ve got to get the ship out of there, Em. That’s really the point.” “What’s that now?” Emma asks, not sure where to let her gaze land. Everyone looks increasingly guilty and surprisingly hopeful, Will asking the pin-lady if he can borrow her notepad because he’s got ideas for fighting magical water. “Scarlet, what are you doing?” Ruby groans. 

“No, no, this is important if you’re going to do this, Rubes,” he promises, brows furrowing in what Emma assume is concentration. “Em, listen to me. The bottle isn’t the issue. It’s the water that Ursula used because, let’s be honest, she could fuck with water.” “What a ridiculous sentence.” “Yeah, well, I’m stuck in some magic realm and my best friend’s a pirate with a ship stuck in a bottle that his magic girlfriend can’t figure out, so maybe this is just how things are going to go from now on.” “You been holding that in for awhile, huh?” Ruby muses, Will shaking his head because Emma can only imagine the look on her face. If it’s anything like the feeling of guilt swirling in the pit of her stomach, it can’t possibly be good. 

He sighs, running his free hand over his face so he can crouch in front of her. “None of this is anyone’s fault. Is it some messed up, weird, magical shit? Yes, absolutely But it’s not anybody’s fault. And there’s got to be a reason I’m here, right?” “You think you’re here to unmagic the Jolly Roger?” Mary Margaret asks. “How?” “You know what’s really good at dehydrating things? Alcohol.” Emma can feel the muscles in her face shift again, another expression that probably isn’t very good, but might be a little curious and Will’s eyebrows jump. “What are you suggesting, exactly? We get the water drunk?” “Look who’s being ridiculous now.” “Be more specific then.” “I was really good at mixing drinks at home, you know,” Will says, and it only takes a moment for Emma to understand. Regina’s quiet oh damn, that may work helps too. “Won awards from Time Out once. They were very complimentary. Ursula broke the frame in her water gun battle.”

“You’re not doing a great job of making me feel better, honestly.” His eyebrows are almost worse than Killian’s. “What I’m saying is, I can mix things. And while I’m not suggesting we get the water drunk, I am suggesting that battling magic water with anything except some other form of magical liquid seems almost pointless.” “Huh.” “Yeah, that’s exactly the reaction I was hoping for.” “Maybe you deserve to be more than the court jester,” Regina says, sounding almost genuine. “What do you think you could use to combat that?” “You have potions here, don’t you, Your Majesty? That’s how magic should work.” Regina levels him with an even stare, but Will doesn’t bat an eyelash and Emma isn’t really that surprised. Because, for the most part, both he and Belle have taken this in stride and, she hopes, they’re maybe happy or at least on the way there and she didn’t even think of attacking the water. “You’ve got a few rather sweeping opinions on the state of magic, don’t you?” Regina asks, and Will makes a contrary noise in the back of his throat. 

“I got an A in high school chemistry one year.” “And that Time Out award. Whatever that actually is.” “It’s a magazine. If I hadn’t been fighting for my life against your magical enemies, I totally would have brought it with me. Proved my worth or whatever.”

Regina scoffs, and Emma expects more of an argument. It doesn’t come. And the pin-lady has very clearly given up on getting any of them to follow the rules of an appropriate gown fitting. Emma’s probably going to blow off her appointment. She’ll feel bad about it later, apologize to the pin-lady and her, apparently, very large team of pin-type people, but she’s starting to feel cautiously optimistic and maybe a little hopeful and she’s willing to try anything at this point. 

She’s getting this ship out. 

And she’s getting Killian Jones back on the water. 

As soon as possible. 

“Potions are complicated though,” Mary Margaret points out. “That’s more science than magic.” Will sighs. “Did you miss my quip about getting an A in high school chemistry?” “I doubt you’ll let us forget it,” Ruby grins. “Alright, so let’s get this straight. You think you can what? Mix up some concoction--” “--Oh, good word. Magical, mythical.” “Gods, shut up.” “I do like concoction more than potion,” Emma says, and Will may actually try to wink. He’s still crouched in front of her chair. “Regina, do you think that’s possible?” Regina’s lips twist, ideas and possibilities playing out on her face. “You’re the spark of magic, Emma. That’s always been the case. I think if you find the right way to combat any kind of magic, particularly dark magic, your--well, participation and, let’s say, your feelings on the subject will be able to do just about anything.”

“I did that though. Tried to--I don’t know, feel particularly True Love’y.” Ruby chuckles, Mary Margaret tugging her lips behind her teeth so she doesn’t join in on the noise. Regina doesn’t look all that surprised. “And, as the jester has mentioned, you were using that to enable the wrong weapon. The bottle is there to hold the water. The water is magical. That’s it.” “Well, you don’t have to be insulting about it.”

Will winks again. That one is a little more successful, less scrunched face and more encouraging, particularly when he reaches out to squeeze Emma’s knee. “I bet there’s some concoction that, coupled with your very strong, decidedly obvious feelings about pirate captain Killian Jones, will make ships grow. Large. And wooden.” “Oh my God.” “What? That’s a genuine belief of mine.” “I’m going to magic you,” Emma warns, the threat sounding decidedly unthreatening. 

“Yuh huh, sure you are. What about Alice in Wonderland?” “What about her?” “Well she drank that thing, got big and had enormous tears. I bet I could find something in Wonderland that would fix a pirate ship.” “You’re still making misplaced references.”

“I am theorizing. Because I know for a fact that you’re trying to sneak out of this dress--”

“--Gown.” “Whatever,” Will mutters. “You’re going to ignore this fitting thing, go find the aforementioned pirate captain and do that eye nonsense you do.” “Eye nonsense.” “You definitely do an eye thing.” “You absolutely do,” Ruby confirms. “And you don’t get to complain about it, Scarlet. We’ve all been living with it since they were kids.” Emma’s jaw cracks when it falls open. “None of you were around us when were kids!” “Yeah, but you were very bad at sneaking out,” Mary Margaret says. “The birds, Emma. And secret passageways. And balls.” “Plenty of yearning,” Regina adds, and Emma nearly slides off her chair. She’d kick Will in the chest if she did. That’s not entirely unappealing. “Almost too much, honestly.” “I don’t yearn,” Emma objects. The words deserve the laughter they get. 

“Sure, you don’t. But he did. Does. Presently. And gave up his ship to find you. So let’s all be honest with ourselves. You’re going to do whatever you can to get it back for him, because that’s been your MO since you were kids. The jester will make some concoction, you’ll help magic it together, defeat the evil water and--” “--Gods, how can there be more?” “Then,” Regina repeats, “we go back to Misthaven, preferably with the pirate ship that is only slightly piratical now and we all--” “--Live happily ever after,” Mary Margaret finishes. Regina glares. 

“That is way more pedestrian than we were trying to make it sound,” Ruby mutters. 

“And how,” Emma asks, “are you trying to make it sound?” Regina’s lips curl up, half a smile and that same bit of hope that Emma’s been clinging to since they got back to this realm. “No one knows this realm better than Killian does,” she says. “He’s been everywhere and it’s...well, we’ve been thinking about that quasi democracy Belle was talking about.” “She was talking about the British royal family. And, I hate to remind you Regina, but no one voted for us.” “If you’re going to cherry-pick what political terms I can and cannot use, this is going to be very difficult for all of us.” “You’re not making any sense!” “We want this to be equal,” Mary Margaret says, taking care on every letter like she’s practiced them several times. “Maybe not democratic, per se, but at least a little--what’s another word?”

“Egalitarian,” Will says. He sighs when Emma’s mouth falls open again. “What? I went to college. Did you?” “I was kind of busy saving a magic kingdom I’d been cursed to forget about.” “Yeah, that’s fair I suppose.” Mary Margaret stands up, rustling fabric and heels clacking on the tile because there’s no point to a gown fitting if they’re not wearing appropriate shoes. Or so Emma has been told several times. “What I’m trying to say is that we think we can do it. A counsel, rather than a monarchy. All of us--Will and Belle included, and uh, well…Captain Killian Jones and Her Royal Highness Emma Swan as official envoys to the rest of the realm does have a pretty good ring to it.” Emma is glad her mouth is already hanging open. It makes it easier to huff out every molecule of oxygen in her lungs. She assumes they’re molecules. 

She never went to high school, either. 

“It’s up to you of course,” Mary Margaret continues. “But, well...we think it might be part of the prophecy too.” Emma’s eyebrows jump. It matches up with the inexplicable rhythm of her magic, surging up her arms and curling around her right shoulder blade. It bursts in the back of her brain, an idea and a possibility and-- “The future of magic,” she breathes, Regina humming in only slightly pointed agreement. “That’s...that’s what I told Killian.” Emma knows she shouldn’t take as much pleasure in the stunned expressions she’s met with, but it’s been that kind of day and she thinks she remembers that spell she used when they were kids. The one that deflects attention. 

They haven’t actually seen much of Arendelle. 

“What?” Regina asks, quiet enough that it’s hardly a word. 

Emma nods. “A prophecy doesn’t just end, right? And it changed. The seeress, all of us, we thought it was talking about Rumplestilskin at first and that was wrong. It was always me and Killian. The light in the dark, the Swan and the Knight. All of it. And well...I know we’re not fighting, technically, anymore, but it might just be--” She clicks her tongue, ignoring whatever pride-type look has landed on Ruby’s face. “--Protecting it. We got Anna back here, got Hans out of Arendelle--” “--Totally screwed over King Arthur,” Ruby adds, and pride has quickly morphed into something closer to gloating. 

“You think Guinevere and Lancelot are going to get married before David and Mary Margaret do, or, like, what do you think the odds are on that?”

Ruby nearly falls over, arm wrapped around her waist to stay upright while she starts cackling again, and even the pin-lady joins in on that. Emma’s eyes widen, meeting Regina’s because Regina still hasn’t actually said anything about this plan and--

“We didn’t realize the ship was in a bottle,” she mutters. “Getting it out would probably help. If that’s what you want.” “Is that an option?” Emma doesn’t really mean for the words to come out quite as bitter as they do, but she is also kind of tired and it took what felt like several years to find pants. The ones she’s wearing are Killian’s. She magiced them to fit. 

“It is now,” Regina says, a promise and just enough something that any doubts Emma’s mind has managed to cling to disappear in something almost resembling smoke and just a bit of her own magic. “From here on out. You’re always going to help people, Emma. And you’re more equipped to do it than any of us. That’s--well, that’s how it’s worked since the start. So we get the captain’s ship, we get the captain and then we start taking bets on how soon a different wedding is going to take place.”

Ruby falls over. Mary Margaret’s eyes bug to an impossibly large size. And Regina looks incredibly smug. 

Emma can feel her cheeks flush, but any words she’s got regarding any sort of possible objection to that get caught in her throat and the wave of magic she’s doing her best to fight against, another round of water-based puns that are wholly out of place. 

“He did take the box back,” Will mutters, working another screech-like sound out of Ruby and a dramatic gasp out of both Mary Margaret and Regina. The second is more surprising. “Also, let’s not forget I am also betrothed.” “Betrothed, huh?” “I’m hanging out with royals now, something fancy’s got to stick.” “Yeah, I bet that’s it.”

“How long has there been a box?” Mary Margaret hisses, moving closer to Ruby so she can claw at her arm and swat at her shoulder. 

Will shrugs. “Long time, I guess. Emma totally freaked when she saw it.”

There are more noises – hands over mouths, and vaguely accusatory stares, even more out of place water-based puns because they’d been cursed and Killian had been dead and--"Ah, fuck it,” Emma mumbles, twisting her wrist and focusing on the feeling tugging lightly in the very middle of her. 

She lands with a soft thump, leather shoes on a slightly shaky ground that isn’t actually a ground. It’s a dock, wooden planks under her heels and she should have figured. She takes a deep breath, trying to figure out where that sound is coming from and what that sound, actually is, and her smile is a little ridiculous. 

It feels very wide. 

And the sound is swords. 

Emma spins on the spot, unsurprised by what she sees – Killian with his jacket off and hair matted to his forehead, a soft laugh and sure-footed moves. He keeps twisting the blade in his hand, a practiced challenge in every shift because that’s exactly what this is. Practice. 

With Henry. 

And the swords. 

“Stop watching my hand,” Killian says, and Emma knows it’s not the first time he’s done that. “It’s not about that. It’s about--” “--The sword, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard,” Henry groans. He dodges another move, jerking his arm up and the clang of metal on metal makes Emma flinch. That’s lame. She pulls her hands up to to mask her potential gasp, but she didn’t take her magic into account. 

Killian snaps his head around, brows pulled low until his eyes land on her and whatever happens to his entire face makes Emma’s magic do something else entirely. Something romantic. Something possibly drifting towards yearning. 

And adventures. 

And a ship. 

She’s going to magic the fuck out of Will Scarlet’s chemical concoction. 

Or, whatever. 

“You might want to watch your back,” Emma says, crossing her arms and nodding in Henry’s direction. Killian’s eyes widen, chest shifting when his breath hitches and he just barely turns in time, bending his knees to block Henry’s jab. 

He laughs when Henry groans again, clearly annoyed his maneuver didn’t work. “What were you trying to do?” Killian asks, another flick of his wrist and quick lunge that’s barely more than a blur and Henry’s sword clatters when it lands on the dock. “Take me out at the kneecaps?” “You weren’t paying attention,” Henry grumbles. “That was rule number one through, like, forty-seven or--” Emma can’t help the laugh that flies out of her, scrunching her nose when Killian turns on her as if he’s been explicitly betrayed “How many rules are we talking?” she asks, and Henry mumbles a word much larger than forty-seven.

Her magic jumps again. 

“It’s not forty-seven,” Killian promises, although Emma gets the impression it may be more than that and she does her best to make her hum sound as sarcastic as possible. “Did you see that parry, though?” He leans forward, tapping the side of the blade and Henry’s arm. “I think he’s starting to get the hang of it.”

She hums again – less sarcastic, more endeared, entirely magical. “Was this your idea, then? And should we be using real swords?”

“It’s almost offensive how dull these blades are. And no, it wasn’t my idea. What did you say we should call it, lad?” Henry grits his teeth, a bit of color on his cheeks. “Bonding. I’ve never...well, we didn’t have a lot of swords in Neverland and Killian’s really good.” “See, Swan,” Killian grins, thumb tapping out a rhythm against the hilt when he rests the sword on his shoulder. He knows he’s cheating. Emma pushes on her magic, and it’s a little dirty, a little unfair, really, with a kid there who wants to bond over sword fighting, but Emma’s mind is still racing just a bit and--”Incidentally, what are you doing here, love?” “I’m uh…here to--” Emma wavers, Killian’s smile getting stronger and more smirk-like the more she stumbles over words. Henry might nod. That might help. “I’m here to ask you out because it’s stupid we haven’t done that yet.”

The sword slides off his shoulder. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you out?” “You are incredibly old fashioned, pirate.” Killian nods, taking three, measured steps before he’s in Emma’s space and it really is ridiculous how attracted she is to him. Particularly when holding a sword. And wearing that shirt. Without the jacket. She really does like the jacket, though. 

“Are these my pants?” he asks lightly, twisting his hook around inexplicable belt loops. “They look awfully familiar.”

“That’s not an answer.” “True, true. It’s a crime we haven’t gone into the city yet.”

“Is that a plan I hear?” “Aye, it could be. You know how I feel about plans and their ability to come together, your highness.” Emma groans. So does Henry. The second one is louder. Emma is still kind of charmed by the whole thing. “I can play decoy,” he volunteers, and that part is a little surprising. “You know...if you want me to.” “And all it’s going to take is more sword lessons, right?” Killian asks knowingly. 

“You’re really good, Killian.”

Emma laughs again, burrowing closer to Killian’s chest and he kisses her hair before he glances back at Henry. “Right, right,” he mutters. “Well, you’ve successfully negotiated your first deal, my boy. It was very impressive and you got plenty out of it.” “You get to date Emma.” She stops laughing. And not for any other reason except the way Killian tenses slightly, another hitch to his breath that makes her wonder and worry and that lasts, approximately, three seconds. He smiles at her. 

“Aye, I do. Alright, Henry, we’ve an accord.” He tosses the sword back to his feet, holding his hand out and Henry nearly trips over himself in his effort to take it. It’s also pretty goddamn charming. “I’ll make sure they spend forever on my clothes,” Henry yells, sprinting away from the docks in a blur of belief and childhood determination.

And Emma doesn’t move immediately, lets her head stay exactly where it is so she can count the beats of Killian’s heart under her ear like some goddamn creep. Who can’t remember if she’s ever been on a date before. 

She doesn’t think so. At least, not really.

“I think I remember that spell,” she says, tilting her head up to find him grinning at her already. Or still. The specifics of it probably aren’t important. 

Killian kisses her temple. “Good. What do you want to do first, Swan?”

They go into the city below the Arendelle castle, which does not appear to have a name. 

“Do you think that’s a rule?” Emma asks, the fluttering at the back of her brain proof positive that the spell did, in fact, work. People keep glancing at them and looking away, focusing on what she can only assume are coronation-related tasks because, while the city doesn’t appear to have a name, it does have a general hum to it and a rhythm that probably lends itself to using the word coronation in some sort of kingdom-wide cheer. 

Like a Yankee game or something. 

Emma wonders what would happen if she brought up the Yankees in Arendelle. 

It’d probably make Killian laugh. 

“A rule about what?” he asks, and Emma’s nearly forgotten she even asked a question. They’re weaving their way through the central market because the city appears to have more than one market depending on which neighborhood it is and maybe she shouldn’t bring up the Yankees at all. She should bring up grid systems and their efficiency in city planning. 

“Swan,” Killian mutters, nudging her lightly in the side. It’s not easy, their fingers twisted together and magic in the air around them and it had taken her nearly five minutes to cast the goddamn spell because he kept kissing along her jawline. 

Dating is kind of fun. 

“The town in Misthaven doesn’t have a name. This doesn’t. I know two isn’t much more than coincidence, but I guess--” Emma shrugs, glancing up and he’s smiling at her like this is the most important conversation either one of them have ever had. Whatever her magic does has nothing to do with the crowd around them. 

He totally knows that too. 

“Maybe it’s just a sign of royal laziness,” Killian suggests, the expression turning from something dangerously close to adoring into something far closer to teasing. “You know...you build your giant castle, you dig a moat, get some rather expensive clothing and then you can’t be bothered to name the city because you’re so exhausted.” “Yuh huh.” “It makes perfect sense to me.” “Sure it does.” “Is that doubt I hear, love?” He does something absurd with his eyebrows, not quite magic, but at least a move that defies some type of gravity. 

She rolls her eyes, turning on him quickly and she’s going to do dangerous things to her own ego if she keeps claiming victories in such normal moments. As it is, Emma has started hoarding them all, a return to possibility and incredibly good flirting, hands flat on Killian’s chest and his fingers dancing along the hem of a shirt that is, in fact, hers. 

“No doubt,” Emma promises, letting her fingers drift towards the charms around his neck. She flutters her fingers over the rather absurd amount of skin his shirt shows off, chewing on her lower lip because she’s really starting to get greedy with her victories and she knows this will work. 

It does. 

Killian lets out a huff of air, head falling forward just enough that it ghosts over the side of her cheek. “Some kind of royal punishment,” he mutters, and Emma can’t help whatever sound she makes. It’s a giggle. She just doesn’t want to admit it. 

“And what, Lieutenant, would you think your crime is?” “Captain, Swan, we’ve been over this several thousand times.” “Thousand?” “At least.” Emma hums, fingertips dragging across his collarbone and she genuinely does not mean for her magic to surge into the touch, but she’s still got a few thoughts regarding swords and magic kids and pirate ships in bottles. She needs to tell him about the plan. Or offer. Or whatever the term for it is. 

And she would have. Honestly. The words are there, on the tip of her tongue and the magic in her fingers, but--

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m--” The man gasps as soon as he realizes who, exactly, he’s just bumped into and it’s probably their fault. The magic distracts. It doesn’t make them invisible. And they are dangerously close to yanking on each other’s clothing in the middle of the central marketplace.

Without a name. 

Or, possibly clothes. Eventually. 

“Your Highness,” the man continues, eyes darting anywhere except Emma’s face. She can feel Killian laughing against her, tugged back against a chest that is shaking almost too much. “I’m sorry to bother and--Captain, sir. It’s uh...thank you.” Killian stops laughing. “What?” “Thank you?” “No, no, I heard you, I just--I’m not sure I entirely understand.”

The man flushes, digging the toe of his boot into the ground and Emma does her best to temper her impatience and her magic. She’s not sure either one of them work. And it’s been years since she’s heard that tone of voice, a question in the words and anticipation in the syllables, the hope of enough and could-be.

It’s the best victory she’s gotten in...ever. 

“Well, we’ve heard the rumors, sir,” the man stammers. “You and--the princess. Finding our Anna and bringing her home. Bringing Queen Elsa home for that matter. And helping rid us of Hans. We--the people are very thankful for it. For both of you. For--” He ducks his eyes, tongue flashing between his lips and his voice is barely a whisper when he finishes. “--defeating the Darkness. It’s all they can talk about in the taverns.” Killian blinks. And his fingers curl tight around Emma’s as soon as she reaches for him. “That so?” she asks, the man nodding enthusiastically. 

“Oh yes, ma’am. Right heroic, that was.”

She doesn’t giggle, so that’s something, but she does laugh and it’s nothing except joy. Pure and unadulterated, some kind of destiny-type finish with prophecy and Killian’s thumb brushing over the back of her wrist. The color in the man’s cheeks gets even brighter, a red that rivals several mermaid’s hair, and he flinches when Emma reaches towards him.

“If you had to suggest the best tavern for someone celebrating something right heroic, is there one in particular?” HIs eyes widen. His mouth hangs open. And Killian’s head drops again -- so he can press a kiss to the side of Emma’s neck and she has to bite her tongue to stop herself from doing something distinctly un-royal. 

She’s done enough of that already. 

“Oh, yes, of course your highness,” the man says quickly, waving an arm towards an alley and a sign Emma can just barely make out. “Good ale.” “Well, what more could you ask for?” He bows, which is only slightly absurd, but Emma supposes, much like gowns and cities without names, it’s something she should probably get used to again. Maybe after the ale. 

And the man is gone before she can thank him, or ask his name, a blur of feet and pants that weren't magiced to fit correctly. Killian’s fingers squeeze hers. “I couldn’t tell you the last time I’ve had ale,” he mutters. 

“Doesn’t really fit the pirate stereotype, does it?” “Pray tell, your highness, what pirate stereotype is that?” “Please,” Emma groans, trying to pull her hand back to her side. He doesn’t let go. She didn’t really expect him to. “Drink up me hearties, yo ho. All that. And a bottle of rum.” “Really bad eggs.” “Exactly. See, don’t act like you’re not understanding my references.” “I think that’s you trying to tell me that I’m incredibly intelligent,” Killian grins, tugging her towards the alley on the other side of the marketplace and the sign does, actually, have words on it. The pub is named The Crooked Prince. 

“Not exactly exactly inspiring a lot of confidence in the monarchy is it?” Emma asks. “You think that’s some kind of sign?” “It is a sign.” “Oh my God.” He chuckles, far too many teeth in his smile. It’s not quite predatory though, more...something positive. About clothes. And his pants. That she’s wearing. Gods, she really cannot stop thinking about the sword thing. “You are on a compliment roll, love. First you tell me I’m smart and now you’re acknowledging my jokes.” “I have said not any of those words.” “Ah, that’s not how I’ve been hearing it at all,” Killian objects, still grinning. They’re going to get run over if they don’t move away from the tavern door. Emma doesn’t lift her foot. “And you heard the man, Swan. You’re a bloody hero.” “So are you.” She’s fully prepared for him to open his mouth, the way his brows pull low and his forehead creases slightly. So Emma reacts. It’s proactive. And he tries to nip at her finger when she presses it against her lips. “You are ruining this,” she grumbles. 

Killian hums, hook around her wrist to tug her hand back down. “I have never said the words yo ho in my entire life. That is an incorrect stereotype.”

She’s, admittedly, less prepared for that. 

Emma’s body sags, head colliding with his chest and Killian doesn’t flinch. She’s sure he’s smiling too, insufferable and attractive and several other contradictory adjectives that make perfect sense. Hero and pirate, princess and...probably scallywag or something. She’ll have to look up other piratical terms. “You did just say it though. If you...you know, you want to get technical about it.” “I do not want to get technical about it.” “You were definitely drinking rum in that one tavern in Misthaven.” He leans back, a little dumbfounded, like he’s actually got the gall to be surprised she remembered that. Emma rolls her eyes again. “That’s true,” Killian agrees. “But the options were rather limited then. And I can’t imagine that place has the same reputation as the vaunted Crooked Prince.” “Seriously, you think you’re hysterical.” “No, Swan, I know I’m hysterical, there’s a major difference.”

“You must have had drinks at Scarlet’s.” “Why are you bringing up Scarlet on our date?” Emma refuses to acknowledge whatever her heart does at that. Jumps and explodes, possibly, a burst of magic that is going to fuck with the magic she’s already done and Killian's eyes widen with the clear force of his suspicion. “Swan,” he says softly, an even more obvious prodding and she’s starting to think he may already know about the plan. 

The sword fight makes a little more sense that way. 

“Do you have a drink of choice?” Emma asks, a rather pitiful attempt to redirect the conversation. Killian’s eyebrows are the worst. “Like...you know, cursed you who couldn’t drink ale? Do they make ale in New York?” “I think that’s just craft beer, honestly. Hops or whatever.” “What are hops, exactly?” “I’ve got no bloody idea,” Killian laughs. The door opens behind them, another body barely avoiding them as he stumbles back towards the rest of the city. Emma gasps as soon as Killian pushes her forward, hips far too close to each other far too quickly and one of them probably freezes when they realize she’s flush against a very solid wall. 

She swallows. “So, uh...no to the hops then?” “Scarlet turned thirty a few weeks before you got there, you know. It was very dramatic, lots of hand-wringing and he was nervous about proposing and he wanted to go out. Belle planned the whole thing, looked up reviews of places in the Village--” “--He owned a bar!” “You can’t drink your own stock, that’s bad for business, Swan.” Emma scoffs, rolling her shoulders back, but that only lands her even closer to wall and her back arches on instinct. Killian’s jaw clenches. “So, uh--” he bites out, and Emma cannot laugh. She doesn’t. Kind of. “Well, we went out and have you ever had sambuca?” “I don’t even know what that is.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Killian mutters. “Belle claimed this place had good reviews and lots of choices, she drank something that was blue, I think, some variation, and it had just opened. There was a sale or a deal--” “--A sale on alcohol?” “Swan, you can’t keep interrupting.” She shrugs, which only serves to make more of her touch more of him and if she doesn’t get some alcohol in her, in the middle of the goddamn afternoon, as soon as possible, she might actually explode. “Anyway,” Killian says, “we went, there was quite a bit of sambuca, I’ve never seen Scarlet that drunk and--” “--That’s what made it your favorite, isn’t it?” Emma cries, waving a dismissive hand because she’s interrupted again. She’s not sure how her arm ends up draped over Killian’s shoulder. “And you, somehow, what...managed to stay perfectly sober the entire night?” “I’m very good at holding my liquor.” “Yuh huh.” “Honestly.” “Drink up me hearties, yo ho?”

Killian makes a noise in the back of his throat, a mumbled c’mon that’s a little raspy and probably not meant to be attractive, but then they’re moving and The Crooked Prince smells like hops. Or so Emma assumes. 

She has no idea what hops are. 

And Killian Jones cannot hold his ale. 

She’s not sure how long they stay in there, tucked into a slightly dark corner that’s all the more impressive since it is, in fact, the middle of the afternoon, but Emma can’t bother to keep track of a menial thing like time when she’s fairly positive Killian is exuding heat next to her. 

His coat shifts every time he moves, crowding into her space and he can’t seem to stop touching her. The back of his knuckles drag over her arm, his hook pressing lightly into the side of her hip when he starts to wobble just a bit. His forehead rests on hers, warm breath on her nose and the side of his jaw becuase, eventually, it appears his neck is not all that interested in being a functioning part of his body. 

It is intoxicating. More so than the ale. Which is, in fact, pretty disgusting.

The room has started spinning a little. 

“Lightweight, lightweight, lightweight,” Emma chants, drawing a shaky and drunken laugh out of him. He bites lightly at the side of her neck, making her yelp and they’re starting to play a very dangerous game. 

“That is another out of place phrase in this realm, my love.” Emma’s entire body--well, she’s not sure what it does. She is not a doctor. Her education is stunted at best, a muddle of memories and moments and moments that were incorrect memories, but that makes everything settle just a bit. 

It’s a subtle change and not even much of a change, if she’s being honest. It’s always been true, if never explicitly voiced, and she can’t hold him accountable for much of anything he says because he’s absolutely sloshed. Her mind does not give one single fuck. It give negative fucks. It gives victory and want and greedy, greedy, greedy and-- She yelps when his hook finds its way underneath her shirt, cool metal against suddenly flaming-hot skin and Killian grins when she glares. “Gods, but you’re a menace,” Emma groans. He hums. Into her shoulder. 

His neck shouldn’t even count as part of his body anymore. 

“You were talking a big game before,” Emma says. “You can barely stand up now.” “That is a bald lie.” “Bald face.” “Hmmm?” “Bald face,” she repeats, not sure if there’s actually a name for the feeling working its way through her. It warms her from the inside out, like doing shots of tequila and she was loathe to realize there was not, in fact, tequila available at The Crooked Prince. “The phrase you are looking for, o ye so sure he’s the smartest man in every room, is bald face lie.”

Killian makes another noise, nuzzling closer to her until Emma doesn't have a choice except to move her arm around his middle. “You’re a genius, love.” “And you are drunk.” “No, no, no, that’s not true at all.” He mumbles a few more words, pulling his head slowly like he’s looking for something in particular. “Are you?” “Nah.” “Nah?” “Nah.” Killian nods, lower lip stuck out far enough that there’s not much of an option except to catch it with her mouth. He groans, twisting further around her like he’ll be able to cover her or something equally romantic and slightly absurd because Emma’s magic is on overdrive. She’s genuinely surprised she hasn’t done damage to the windows in this tavern. 

“Day drunk,” Killian mutters. “That’s the right phrase. See, smart.” Emma laughs, another sound that’s far too much like a giggle and one of them probably moves first. Towards the door. And fresh air. It’s almost responsible. “You are just saying words now,” she accuses, and none of her steps are particularly even. She nearly falls over more than once, the rocks on the ground looking bigger and far more threatening than they had a few hours earlier, and Killian moves like he’s actually going to try and carry her. “If you lift me up, I will punch you right in the face,” she warns, a threat that loses all of its venom when she practically shouts the words. 

And immediately starts laughing again. 

“That is gallant, Swan. You’re going to break something.” “You’re going to break something,” she challenges, only to be met by another serious nod and whatever his mouth does Twitches. Taunts her. Makes her wonder if she can teleport them back to that feather bed when her head feels like it’s swimming. 

“And I wasn’t just saying the words. That’s a phrase. Have you never heard that? Something about brunch. Belle was always going on about brunch. Did you not have brunch in Storybrooke?” “I think Granny would have shot you with a crossbow if you even suggested that.” He snickers, nosing behind her ear. They’ve made it back to the marketplace much quicker than Emma expected, hustle and bustle and other rhyming words that, in her current state of mind, sound particularly hysterical. 

“And Storybrooke was--” Emma clicks her tongue, words suddenly very difficult. It’s because he’s kissing her neck. They’re going to get arrested. She can’t remember how long this spell used to last. It probably wasn’t tested against the force of Arendelle ale. “It was different than the Land Without Magic. Not quite as much...culture? We knew we had magic. There were potions and everyone knew what we were capable of. Mary Margaret brought birds into her classroom and--” “--No brunch?” Emma shakes her head. “No brunch.” “That’s unfortunate. There are usually mimosas involved.” “Your experience with that realm’s alcohol is much larger than mine. Granny had one bottle of tequila that David enchanted to never run out.” “And you called me a pirate!” “That’s thrifty, and cursed. There’s a difference.” Killian nods, eyes flitting towards a stand a few feet away and it only takes one gust of particularly strong wind for her to realize what he’s looking at. She can smell it. Toffee. “You know,” he says slowly, “as far as I’m aware brunch always ends with some kind indulgent sweet.”

“Why are there so many rules about brunch?” “Do you not want toffee?” Emma scowls, but they both know she definitely wants toffee and there’s something oddly cyclical about this. It may be that she feels like she’s spinning. Killian’s lips quirk when she grips the front of his jacket. “I don’t have any money. Do you? Did we pay for those drinks?” “What kind of date do you think this is?” “You are a pirate.”

He clicks his tongue, a flash in his gaze that leaves Emma trying to dig her heels into the ground. To prove there is a ground. And she’s not floating. One of her knuckles crack when she holds his jacket tighter. “I have no idea what kind of coins they use in this kingdom,” Killian mutters. “So I dropped the handful of gold I had on the counter as we left. Whoever was there could probably buy the block now.” “I don’t think that’s the technical term.” “I have no money.” “What are you suggesting--” She feels her mouth form a perfect ‘o’ when she realizes, Killian’s brows jumping into his hair and the flutter in her veins isn’t magic or anxiety, so much as it’s excitement and possibly misplaced flirting in the form of petty theft. “Are you serious?” “Are you?” “You’re drunk!” “So are you,” Killian points out. “And, honestly, are these my pants?” Emma scoffs -- a pitiful attempt to make sure he doesn’t notice her magic, but the deja vu is too strong and her magic is some kind of unstoppable force and--”Something about deft fingers and soft steps, right?” He grins, ducking his head to catch her lips and the tongue thing should not inspire confidence, but Emma feels as if her spine is growing. She rolls her shoulders, pressing her lips together tightly, the only way she doesn’t start waxing poetic about that one piece of hair falling across his forehead. 

“Quick,” he adds. “The magic’ll help, but I don’t want to tempt fate.” “This was your idea! And how did we decide I was the one who was going to do the actual stealing? That seems unfair.” “Quiet may help too.” “You think they have bail in Arendelle?” “I don’t have any gold left, so you’ll have to do this quickly.” Emma gapes, the tip of Killian’s tongue pressing into the side of his cheek. “But I would gladly break you out of several brigs if the situation called for it, love.” “Promises, promises,” Emma grumbles, but that’s a little disingenuous and neither one of them really needs to prove anything to the other anymore. Except how much better she is at stealing than he is. She’s weirdly competitive when she’s drunk. “Alright, what do I win if I do this?”

“Toffee, was that not obvious?” He’s still grinning when she snaps her head around, eyes distracting and staring straight at her, less deja vu becuase it’s never really changed. And Emma will never say she was explicitly confident when she walked towards the stand, but she was, at least a little determined and the man doesn’t notice her at first. 

She lets her fingers drag across the edge of the counter, chewing on her lip and trying not to breathe too loudly. There’s a stack of sweets on the corner, an easy mark that she should be more than capable of picking off. She’s good at this. Could shoot a target at twenty paces in Storybrooke, cast spells with ease in Misthaven and--well, she’s the goddamn Savior. 

Stealing toffee should be easy. 

And it is. For a moment. 

Until Emma’s ankle rolls underneath her, destroyed by the same rocks Killian was ready to defend against. Her hand slams onto the counter, a loud thud that leaves her grunting in pain, elbow colliding with the wood and the man snaps his head towards her, eyes wide with accusation because she’s clearly day drunk and very clearly trying to steal toffee. 

“Ah, God damn--” 

She doesn’t finish, an arm around her waist and voice in her ear and--”Run,” Killian says, laughter coloring the words. 

They do. His fingers find hers almost immediately, still impossibly warm, tugging her towards a different alley and there are too many alleys in this city. She’ll tell Elsa that eventually, once they’re done hiding them. 

Emma can hear people shouting -- calls for the guard and they went that way and it’s not funny. It’s not. But Killian’s out of breath, an arm above her head with her back pressed to a different wall, the ends of his coat fluttering around his ankles and well...something about adrenaline probably. And chemistry. 

She pushes up on her toes, reveling in the noise it elicits, somewhere between a gasp and a groan and there’s too much momentum behind her movement. Emma’s nose squishes against Killian’s cheek, the jut of her chin colliding with his and maybe she’s the one groaning because the whole world feels like it flips when his hips cant up. 

Emma works an arm under his jacket, letting her mouth open as son as his tongue brushes against her lips. She knows it should hurt more when her head falls back against the wall, but she’s still blissfully drunk and they’ve always been very good at this. 

Killian’s lips fall back to her neck, scruff scratching at her skin and--”You can’t leave marks there,” Emma mumbles, fingers finding their way to his back. That makes both of them groan. Loudly. 

“Is your foot ok?” “I’m fine,” she promises, nodding for good measure because he does look genuinely worried, pulling back to meet her gaze with clearer-than-earlier eyes. “Really. Although I may take you up on that offer to get carried back to bed.” “Right to bed, huh?” “You’re the one who keeps trying to bite my neck.” “This is making out, Swan. That’s how dates work. And I’m not aware of any vampires in this realm either.” “If there are vampires in this realm, I’m out.” He chuckles, another quick kiss that’s almost better than the searing ones. “Aye, that’s fair. Maybe we’ll work on the high-points of stealing after we talk about the ambassador-ship we’ve been offered, huh?” “I knew it! I knew you knew! Is that why you were sword fighting with Henry?” “You think I was sword fighting with an actual child to alleviate my anger?” “Well, when you put it that way…” “That’s not what I was doing. David showed up before Henry did. Told me what they were thinking about and how Ruby was planning her own intervention while you were avoiding the gown fittings and--” He shrugs. “It’s something to think about, I suppose.” Emma hums, bumping her head again. “Yeah, it could be. But, uh...well, I may have been running from the gown fittings and the questions and the plans and--” She twists her lips at the look on his face, because--”Oh, you totally knew that, didn’t you?” “As soon as you landed on the dock.” “That’s stupid.” “That’s romantic,” Killian corrects. “And I was never opposed to the date, love. Even cursed.” The honesty in his words makes Emma’s eyes flutter shut, an irregular beat to her pulse. She flips her hand up -- the one not still under his shirt. And Killian’s laugh will probably give up their hiding spot, ringing out around them until Emma’s certain she’ll hear it on loop for the rest of the day. That’d be nice. 

The toffee in her palm is starting to melt. “Pirate,” he mutters, and she grins. “So, uh...the making out, then? Is that the end of the date or--” “--An interlude.” “Right, right,” Emma nods, taking a bite if only because she knows it’ll make Killian’s eyes widen. “These are totally your pants.”

She has to magic some of the toffee off her fingers later, far too busy kissing and laughing and Ruby barely bats an eyelash when Emma and Killian appear in the hall outside their room that night. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she smiles. “And I’m only here to tell you that you’ve got to get your dress finished tomorrow, Em.”

She’s gone as soon as the words are out of her mouth, which is probably for the best because the door is already open, Killian making quick work of the laces of Emma’s pants or his pants and the specifics aren’t important when they’re on the floor. 

“That’s probably how the date’s supposed to end, right?” Emma asks, Killian half an inch above her with a distinct lack of pants as well and--

“Exactly,” he says, more honestly and another word that sounds like a promise and neither one of them wakes up once during the night. 

#cs ff #captain swan #all was golden in the sky #that stupid witch fic #yikkkkkkkes that was a lot of words #i don't remember writing that many words #mostly i just want emma and killian to have some fun

[uncultureddirt]

Day Zero (Part 3/4) - Park Jisung (Post Apoc!AU)

~REQUESTED~

“This can’t be my fate.”

Warnings: language, violence, angst, intense/stressful scenes 

[3 Years Later]

The concept of time was something that you never were able to grasp. Your understanding of it changed with the seasons, with your mood, and with your heart. When you encountered periods of desperation or loneliness, it felt as if you were pushing a boulder up a steep hill. Time ambled painfully. Though during moments full of love and happiness, time moved fast. You wanted to reach out your hand and hold on to it, maybe even keep it in a bottle. In these times you would sit upon the boulder as it glided down the hill. It descended at a speed far faster than it went up, even though it was traveling the same distance. Time. It was strange to you. 

With Jisung you swore the earth spun faster. Times were still tough, but being with him made everything worth the pain. 

On this particular night, you were wide awake, Jisung slept peacefully next to you. The sun had set a long time ago, and the world had been dark for hours, but you could not sleep. The tree next to your home’s branches had been growing since you established residence, and soon, with the help of wind, became an issue. The branch was now able to tap on the window above where you slept with an inconsistent rhythm. Some nights the breeze was gentle, and once in a while, there would be a tap so mild you weren’t sure if you heard it or not. But some nights, nights like the one you were presently faced with, the wind was angry and the drumming was frequent. So there you lay, on the heap of sweaters and blankets, listening to the endless tapping above you. Your mind was full, it was always at night, but you couldn’t even allow yourself to think properly, as your thoughts were constantly disrupted by the irritating branch. Time. You were thinking about time.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Your thinking is loud,” you heard a mumble escape Jisung’s mouth. He stirred slightly, and you wondered if he was still sleeping. 

“Can you hear what I’m thinking about?” You whispered, deciding to play along.

“Yes,” he turned over and rubbed his eyes, “You’re thinking about going outside to snap that branch off once and for all.” A small, tired laugh escaped him. 

“That’s exactly it.”

He stared at your face, absorbing the few features he could make out in the darkness before he spoke, “Come here.” 

You squeezed next to him, completely closing the gap between you two. You felt him place his arms around you, your body immediately feeling warm. As you began to relax, you returned to your thoughts, the concept of time still flooding your mind as you imagined yourself flying down a hill on a heavy boulder. The wind felt nice in your hair, and the sun felt warm against your skin. The last thing you thought about as your mind drifted was drifting into sleep, though, was that you also felt afraid, as you had no control of when you were going to stop or slow down.

While you finally let yourself rest, the branch outside remained on duty, its relentless tapping settling only slightly. Someone would probably mention it began to resemble more of a ticking sound than a drum.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

~

Jisung walked inside, a subtle grin playing on his face.

You were laying on your stomach, flipping through a ‘Fishing and Travels’ magazine, left behind in the wreckage of your thrifted home. Jisung had gone out to do something, leaving you alone for a bit, and you found yourself bored without him. It wasn’t often that you two weren’t together. Thinking was a pain, so you turned to what was around you. You had already read the stack of books and magazines about fishing and tried to assemble a fishing rod yourself with the broken pieces of what you assumed was one previously. It was when you turned went through the piles behind the old front counter that you discovered a new stack of magazines and books. Wiping the dust off the pile, you skimmed through the articles. “How to Catch Bass,” “Fishing Into Your 70s!” and even “Fishing Hot Spots: Are They Near You?” became common reads for you. In your couple years of occupying the shop, you read too many things about fishing, even for fishermen themselves. 

“Y/n, you’re gonna be the best fisherman one day,” he laughed, noticing you reading again. He stood across the room holding one arm behind him. 

You smiled and put down the magazine, “What’s behind your back?”

“Oh yeah, look,” he moved his arm and waved it in the air, “This dude won’t bother us anymore.” 

You started laughing as you saw what he held in his hand. It was that damn branch.

“Why didn’t we cut it off earlier?” you asked.

“I don’t know. But it’s off now.”

He joined you on the floor. Outstretching his legs, he began dusting off the powdery dirt which decorated his black jeans. You tilted your head and watched him, feeling a question arise in your throat. 

“Where else were you? You were gone for longer than a branch removal.”

“Oh,” he stiffened a bit, “I went back to the old place to see if it was still empty. I thought I could get more of our stuff.”

You tried to hide your excitement “And?”

“It wasn’t empty.”

He felt bad about it, you could tell. That place was his home, and now it belonged to someone else. There was pain in change, stepping into something new and watching the familiarity of things drift away. You placed a hand on his leg and spoke softly.

“I’m sorry Jisung.”

He placed his hand on top of yours, “It’s okay. You’re here, so it’s okay.”

You stared down at his hand noticing how it fully covered yours. You felt safe with him, like the heavy feeling of terror and worry was miraculously lifted. He was your distraction; he was your peace

“Come on, it’s late, you’re probably tired.” You got up and took his hand, walking towards the bed. 

You sat down in front of him and patted the space next to you. Instead of sitting down, he crouched down in front of you so your eyes met. You furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Jisung?”

He smiled lightly and took your face into his hands. He leaned in slowly and placed a soft kiss on your lips. As he pulled away, he took a finger and traced the edge of your jaw, admiring the shape of your delicate face. You sat before him in awe.

Without saying a word, he sat down next to you and laid back, crossing his legs and resting his hands behind his head. After you laid down, you moved in so you were close to him. Today you were tired. Typically, it took you some time to fall asleep. You would count to one hundred and then back down to zero or even imagine your fate if Day Zero never fell upon your life. Today none of that needed to occur. As soon as your lids fell, you began to listen to Jisung’s breathing. The deep rise and fall of his lungs lulled you to sleep before you could think any further. 

Jisung watched your face as you fell asleep. He smiled to himself as he thought about the times he’s kissed you, remembering the soft feeling of your lips as they collided with his own. His stomach danced quietly to itself, as he thought about you and saw your face so at peace. To him, you were everything

Everything.

Everything was at peace.

But everything can only be at peace for so long. 

Change is inevitable.

~

“Fuck,” Jisung sat up quickly in bed, “They couldn’t have found me again.” There were shouts at the door. 

“Jisung?” You rolled over slowly, feeling him sit up. He looked at you and stroked your face. His eyes looked worried. 

“Hey pretty. This is bad right now, but I promise I’ll take care of it. I-”

The noises from outside were heightened with the addition of several gunshots. Jisung brought his face to yours and kissed you deeply.

“I’m coming back, ok?” He kissed you again. “Stay here, please.”

You sat up once the situation registered with you. “No. No. Jisung don’t leave.” You were pulling on his shirt. You knew what this meant. You knew who was outside, and you didn’t want to let him go. 

“I love you.” He pulled your hands off him and walked towards the door, grabbing his rifle as he stepped out into the war zone. 

You sat in silence watching him leave, feeling tear drops escape your eyes. 

~

The guns were silent for a while, but the yelling remained constant. The voices stabbed through you and laced your body with a familiar feeling. Fear. You clenched your fists tightly, fighting the urge to go outside, and warding off the fear that Jisung could be hurt.

“He’s fine. It’s fine. He’s fine,” you whispered to yourself repeatedly. Your chest burned. You were quickly drowned in an ocean of panic. “He’s fine. It’s fine. He’s fine,” you said again. It wasn’t helping. 

You jumped at the sound of a gunshot. Instinctively, you grabbed a knife, not knowing if you’d need it or not, and held it close to your chest.

It was then, at that moment, you started to feel it. 

Everything was growing hazy. Dark smoke began to fill the room as flames crept up the surrounding walls. Your home began to burn before your eyes. Fire. An unapologetic element, with intent to ruin and destroy. You felt yourself choke as your skin grew hot. 

“Jisung?!” you screamed out in between coughs. 

‘I’m gonna die.’

After shoving the knife into the side of your pants, you pushed your way through the smoke, heading for a window. The fire was all-consuming, and you were about to be devoured by it. You elbowed the window hard. Nothing. You did so again

Crack.

The glass shrapnel which sliced your arm was the least of your concern for the moment. You heaved your body out of the window, hitting the ground hard. As you stood up, feeling dizzy and slightly sick. You began to walk but your body halted you. Your knees gave out, dropping you to the dirt. You began retching, your body forcing out the contents of your stomach. Lifting your head, you found the world around you spinning. You felt defeated, weak, and robbed of everything you loved. You collapsed once more, feeling your face pressed into the dirt. It felt cool against your burning skin. Maybe you should stay here. Maybe you should. You began to lose touch with sounds and feelings around you. Everything began to fade and melt together into the static of an old television. 

‘Get up.’

The television turned off. You weren’t sure whose words those were, but you heard them strong and clear. You looked around slowly, wiping the bile off your lips. 

‘Who said that? Jisung?’

No. It couldn’t be. Perhaps it was you. Perhaps it was your instinct to survive that ordered you. You had to get up. But as soon as you pulled your weak body off the ground, you faced another challenge. 

“Who’s the girl?”

“Where?”

“She’s back there, go get her!”

You watched as the men began to charge at you. Your body was paralyzed in fear, it felt like a nightmare. The kind where your actions wouldn’t cooperate with your brain. That voice played again, louder than before. 

‘Start running. Go. Now!’

A switch flipped in your head, and you began to run, carrying your tired body as fast as you possibly could. You had no idea where you were and you had no idea where Jisung was. You felt yourself getting tired and losing steam. You were breathing hard, sweat streaking your ash-covered face. Hadn’t this happened before? Hadn’t you run for your life on more than one occasion? Why did you feel so weak this time?

“Grab her!” a voice said, they were gaining on you.

Chills covered your entire body. You’ve heard those exact words before. You knew that voice inside and out. And before you had time to react, a pair of large hands wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed tightly. As you screamed for not only your own life but Jisung’s, as well, you silently wondered if this was it for you. Was this where your story ended?

They pushed you to the ground, tying your hands behind your back, but you wouldn’t let up. You shook violently, sending kicks in all directions. 

“One, it’s that girl,” said a man with a five under his left eye. He then turned to you, “You knew you wouldn’t be free forever, right?”

“Shame for her, huh?” The man called One said, exposing his blackened teeth in a sinister grin. “Don’t worry, we aren’t going to hurt you right now. Since you made us go out of our way to find you, we’re going to bring you back for a special finale to your pathetic life.”

They remembered you. How couldn’t they? You had caused them so much trouble due to your escape. And now they were planning on making you pay. While they continued speaking, you struggled to understand them. Not because of how they spoke or what they were saying, but because that voice, your voice, was speaking to you louder than they were.

‘Kill them.’

You strained to sit up, you couldn’t use your hands. You surveyed the three men hovering above you. “Where is Jisung?”

“Number 23? He went back home.”

“Sorry ‘bout the fire,” the man with a five said, laughing, “I couldn’t help myself. I love watching things burn.”

‘Kill them.’ 

You swallowed heavily, the madmen in front of you only fueled your thoughts. You wondered if Jisung was alive; you wondered if he was okay. You needed him at this moment and you knew wherever he was, Jisung needed you. 

“So he went back?” you asked gritting your teeth. You were fighting to keep your emotion down, you couldn’t show any signs of weakness. 

One nodded, pulling out some makeshift radio. “Two? Two, can you hear me?” He turned to the two men near you, “Monitor her, I need to update the base.”

As they turned to look at their leader, you wiggled your hands. As you’d realized countless times in Tartix’s restraints before, they always used too much rope. Once your hands were free, you kept them held together, no need to let them know. Even though your arms were once again mobile, you had no idea what your next move would be. You had your knife, but how were you going to grab it?

The man named One walked further, hoping to get some sort of service for his device. The other two men turned to you. 

Amidst your three seconds of planning, One returned. “The batteries are duds! Does either of you have a spare for this piece of shit?” 

You had less than a couple seconds of them being distracted, and that was just enough time to grab the handle of your knife and pull it out of your waistband, still pretending your hands were tied. Your survival instinct was overwhelming your sense of fatigue. You were ready to move again. Your adrenaline was pumping.

‘Kill them.’

You had never killed anything before, nor had you ever dreamt of it. The men before you changed that. There was nothing more you wanted than to hurt them and end their evil existences. 

One and the man with a four on his neck were occupied, it was your only chance to do something, if anything at all. 

“Hey.” you breathed, enclosing your hand around the knife.

“What?”

“I have a question.” you relaxed your body and prepared to strike. The man with a five on him squatted down and looked at you. “No, it’s a personal question.”

“What the hell! I’m not playing your games. Yo-” He started to exclaim loudly.

One looked over for a second, “What’s going on?”

“She wants to ask me a ‘personal question’ or something!”

One laughed, “Five, she’s delirious, and she’s about to die, just entertain her question.”

The man they called Five shrugged and lowered his ear to your mouth. 

You began to whisper slowly as you snuck the knife under his neck, “It’s funny. He thinks I’m on my deathbed when you’re really on yours.” Quickly pressing the knife into him, he dropped on top of you, no time to react or fight back. That was the thing with Tartix, they never struggled with opponents because they never gave victims time to react or fight back. 

He was dead. Two more to go. 

“What the fuck?” One yelled. 

You grabbed his gun off of him and stood up, scanning the two men across from you. Where were their guns? You didn’t see any on them. You relaxed a bit, exhaling deeply and stepping over the dead man. The gun remained in your clutches as Five’s blood dripped down your arm. 

Everything you had was destroyed. Everything you loved was stolen. 

Your veins coursed with hate for the men who stood before you. You won once, and you didn’t plan on having your victory taken away. 

~

“Y/n?” Jisung pushed his way through the door, covering his nose and mouth with his shirt collar. His eyes burned, and he limped heavily. Tartix had shot him in the leg milliseconds before the house was lit ablaze. His own home felt like walking through Hell. A harsh orange glow and the smell of burning wood surrounded him. The further he traveled in, the more painful it felt and harder it was to see. He called your name over and over again but heard nothing. 

“Y/n!? Where are you?!” he shouted, feeling his lungs go raw as the heat attacked his respiratory system. Jisung hobbled out of the home and began walking into the woods. He didn’t know where you were or where he was going. The blackness of the night placed a blindfold over him as he walked. He pressed his thigh, ignoring the blood which began to soak his pants and hand. He needed to find you. 

‘Fuck. She could be dead. It’s all my fault.’ he thought to himself as he scratched at the tattoo on his neck. He choked on his breath before letting out a small sob, allowing a tear to drip down his face. 

Jisung felt defeated. His leg buckled and forced him to fall forward, his face meeting the ground. He began to pant, trying to pull himself forward before passing out. 

The sun and Earth had collided, lighting his world on fire. 

~

You sprinted away from the three dead bodies laid before you. You should have felt satisfied, but all you felt was sick again. Everything felt wrong. As you ran, you began to wonder what it was you were running from. The attackers were dead. You worried about Jisung: you had no idea where he was or how he was. Your mind was racing and you couldn’t think properly. All you could do was run. And run. And run. 

It was then that it became clear. You weren’t running from a tangible thing. You were running from your fears. From your past and from your misfortune. In one night your life had been overthrown, leaving you with nothing but a heap of memories. You couldn’t turn back time and fix things. The only way time moves is forward. 

So there you were at the bottom of the hill, pushing the boulder again. It looked bigger now. It felt heavier. But the boulder wouldn’t move by itself. And the only way through was up. So you kept pushing. And you kept running, fearing what you may see if you turn back. 

To be continued…

#Park Jisung #park jisung imagines #park jisung fanfic #park jisung imagine #jisung fanfic #jisung angst #angst #kpop fanfic #NCT #nct dream #nct u #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct dream fan fic #nct fanfic #nct dream imagines #nct au #kpop au #HEY GUYSSSSSSS #SO #here is part threeeeeeee #im very excited to post this and im hoping to complete part 4 soon #thank you all for giving this fic so much support it really makes me sos sos so happy #LOVE U ALL

[megamanxfanfics]

S.V - Ep. 16: Intervention of Destiny

----------------------------------------------------------

INT. ZERO SPACE – Zero’s Lair – DAY

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The logo of Dr. Wily is prominently displayed in the background as it glows from red to purple.  Zero slightly levitates above the floor with his Ominous Virus power and looks down at X.  He observes his darker image in the black and gold Ultimate Armor and smiles.

ZERO: ............X...I'm very happy now...I've never been so happy...

X: ............

ZERO: Just look at us! We’re both in our peak forms, at the top of our Game.  Nothing can stop us!!

X narrows his eyes.

X: …Except each other…

Zero grins and nods to X with respect.

ZERO: My mind is becoming very clear... as though I have known everything... I don't care about the Mavericks anymore... Or the Prophecy…  I just need to do one thing...

X: …And what’s that…?

ZERO: Destroy Sigma!

X’s eyes widen, surprised.  He was not expecting to hear that.

X: …What?

ZERO: That is the mission!  We still have to finish him off, don’t we?

X: (cautious) Zero... you are Zero, aren't you...?

He makes a familiar, irksome smile.

ZERO: We’ve already been through this...The energy readings are still the same...and there is no Maverick reading, is there...? You are reading my normal data. This is my true form...

X: …You've been consumed by the virus and yet...  You’re starting to sound like your old self…

X blinks, confused and takes a deep breath.

ZERO: Heheh…  I was never consumed…  I Am the Virus!

X widens his eyes and shakes his head in disapproval.

ZERO: From the moment I woke from my Host Pod years ago, he has evaded me and avoided death. Part of my DNA infected him and caused him to become far stronger than he ever should have been.

X: And now most of his DNA made YOU stronger than you’re supposed to be!!

Zero gives him a smug smirk.

ZERO: Maybe… But that still doesn’t change anything.

X: IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!

[Insert Title Card – Intervention of Destiny]

ZERO: Let’s face it.  Until now, neither of us has been able to fully destroy him.  It’s time to rectify that mistake.

X: And what about us..? What about all that before, huh??

X points back and forth to himself and Zero, then he cricks his neck.

X: You were vey quick to write me off as an enemy a few hours ago, so what changed!?  Did I knock some sense into you??

ZERO: Heheheheh, Hahahahah!!!! The Prophecy is still unfulfilled, but I realized… I don’t really care about that anymore. This is My Life.  No one else’s.  Not the Hunters, not Sigma’s, not my Creator’s.. and certainly not yours…  

X nods with a scowl while clenching a fist.

ZERO: …We may be destined to kill each other; you - the Ultimate Creation of Light, and me – the last of Wily’s numbers… But despite all that, I’ve been thinking…  Maybe there’s a reason why you just won’t Die. Perhaps we were always meant to converge.

X: Hm!?

ZERO: …I could use someone like you on my Team. If we take down Sigma together for good this time, we can rebuild this Colony and form a Regime of our own.  

X: Huh? What do you mean…?

ZERO: It’s chaotic out there, X. I can feel the Virus levels of Earth’s citizens coursing throughout this World.  The people are lost and angry.  They’re going to need a real Leader to rein them in, and Sigma… is not it.

X: …Neither are you….  Why not let the Maverick Hunters do their job???

ZERO: Hahahah, Maverick!? This isn’t an issue of Mavericks, X!  We are embarking upon a New World, where soon… there won’t be such a thing as Mavericks, or Irregulars.  It will just become the Norm.  And once all of our instincts align, then we’ll achieve true peace.

X: So you mean to tell me that you’d just let the Humans and Uninfected Reploids die!??

ZERO: We failed these People, X. It’s survival of the fittest for them, now.  And whoever comes out on top, I’ll make sure that they all fall in line!

X vehemently shakes his head.

X: Absolutely not!!  I won’t let you!!!

ZERO: Then you’re in my way!!!! Last warning: You can either stand with me or against me!!  But whatever the outcome, Sigma dies tonight!!!!

X: That… may be the only thing we agree about, but this still isn’t you…  Your data readings...... they’re the same as Zero used to be...but... your motivations are impure… You cannot be seen or analyzed correctly as data anymore. You taught me that, Zero. There’s something evil within you...! Similar to Sigma... Or should I say, even worse than Sigma!?

ZERO: DON’T compare me to that Parasite!!!

X: Even though his virus infected you, you’ve never been damaged! You have only become more powerful since the infection; too powerful, in fact!! I cannot allow this to go on any longer... Zero... I don't want to lose you... but I'm really worried about you......

ZERO: Hmph… There you go again, showing your big heart… That is your kindness and your weakness…  I don’t have time for this…

X narrows his eyes.  

X: Sigma has changed you, and played us against each other! That's why I have to fight even harder and bring you back.

ZERO: Hm!?  ...Then I don't need to give you more explanations...!

X: I'll destroy you, whoever you are, and bring back the true Zero!

ZERO: Hmph!!!

Zero dashes into X, who charges up, but cannot hit him in time.  Zero gets the first attack with a Z-saber slash to the chest.

X: Agh..

X is pushed back from the attack, but he is surprised how unfazed he is by the saber.  This Ultimate Armor was stronger than he remembered.  With his charge-cycle complete, he instinctively pulls up his Buster and tests the Plasma Shot. It immediately knocks Zero down to the floor.

ZERO: Ogh!! No. You won’t defeat me!!!

He gets right back up, defiantly.

X: This isn’t about defeating you. Its about purging that virus from your system!

X runs after Zero with a glowing fist.  He tries to punch him in the gem, but Zero catches his wrist.

ZERO: Uh uh uh…

He blasts him directly in the stomach with a fully charged Z-Buster.

X: Auuughh…

X is knocked against the far wall.

ZERO: Two can play at that game…

X favors his stomach as Zero simply taunts him with a grin and a flickering open palm.

ZERO: Come on, X.  We haven’t even gotten started.

He allows X to get up, who smirks at the challenge.

X: You’re right…  Lets see what we can really do.

-cut to-

----------------------------------------------------------

INT. FALLEN COLONY – Sigma’s Lair - DAY

----------------------------------------------------------

SIGMA: Muahahahahahah!  This is perfect…

He folds his arms as he eagerly watches his monitor with interest.

SIGMA: Now I’ll finally see who is the Strongest Hunter…

-We pan to the monitor and zoom in-

-pan to-

----------------------------------------------------------

INT. ZERO SPACE – Zero’s Lair - DAY

----------------------------------------------------------

X slips a special chip into his X-Buster, while Zero charges up again.

Zero shoots two new, heavy blasts from his Z-Buster that resemble that of a buzz-saw.

The attack frightens X and causes him to kick-jump up the wall for safety.

ZERO: Hah!  Coward…

With a swipe of his blade, he manipulates the wind-gust of his slash to trail into X and knock him down.

X: (hurt) Aghh!  One cannot wield so much power and sustain it!  Why do you think I get rid of all the weapons after every mission?  All those armors…?

X tests out the Ultimate buster chip.  Without effort, he fires his large Plasma Shot into Zero, which engulfs his side and chips away at Zero’s armor.

ZERO: Gaawww!!

The blast chips his left shoulder piece.  No longer does it bear the Z logo it once did.  

X: Your power is going to Kill you, Zero!  And I won’t let that happen.

His armor shifts into dark green, where he unleashes a Super Double Cyclone into Zero.

ZERO: GHHAAAAAAHHHH…

Zero is shoved against the wall, winded.

ZERO: (coughing) Kuugh, no, instead you’ll just kill me, right? Heheh..

Zero’s armor shifts into black as he powers up even further.

ZERO: (continuing) …at least you TRIED!!!!!

He dash-jumps right next to X and slams his fist into the ground.  His enhanced Giga Attack erupts the entire room with waves of dark energy that crash into X and cause him to go down. His new Ultimate Armor just received its first battle scars as X closes his eyes and turns his head.  

ZERO: (smiling) Hmph.

He gives X a respectful nod as he rises to his feet.  Then, he turns around and starts to walk away.

X: (faint) …Hey…

ZERO: Hm?

He turns around to see X, back up on his feet with a golden aura surrounding his dark armor.

X: You can’t get rid of me that easily!

In an instant, he unleashes the Nova Strike, which propels him into a swift air-dash, surrounded by atomic light energy.

Zero’s mouth is agape as the bright figure of his old friend bashes into him.

ZERO: AAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!

X returns the favor as his Nova Strike crashes against Zero’s Virus barrier and shatters it.  The power singes Zero’s chest as X air-tackles him.  When the Nova Strike dissipates, X grabs him by the neck and forces him down to the floor, pressing his other hand against Zero’s gem.

Zero cringes and struggles while X concentrates on powering up his own hand.  

ZERO: Grrr…  Ungghh.. That’s not gonna.. Work!

Zero grabs X’s wrist and forms a buster with the other hand.  He then, impales X in the ribs with his Thunder God Attack.

X: Ooooh….

X stays down, curled up into the fetal position as Zero slowly gets to his feet.  He shakes off the pain, annoyed.

ZERO: Damn, dude.  You really do pack a wallop.  …Why don’t you just join me?  We’re wasting time!

X favors his bloody side, as he activates a sub-tank.

X: (panting, recovering) I…  could say the same thing…

ZERO: Hmph.

Knowing X just used a supplement, he does not hesitate to fire his buzz-saw blasts at him again.

X: Hah!!

He immediately jumps and air-dashes out of the way.  With renewed energy, he flips over and lands a drop kick to Zero’s face.  

ZERO: Ooof..

X: How do you like that?

X takes two swings at Zero, which he easily dodges. Then, his virus barrier goes up again. Zero easily retreats with a back-dash and levitates away.

ZERO: Hmph.  Fool...

He takes out his Z-Saber.

ZERO: I’m /BEYOND this now!!!

At the dash, Zero /slashes a huge dark wave of energy from his saber, which scares X.

With a gasp, he turns black and yellow and releases a Super Twin Slasher out of desperation.  The giant power slashes cancel each other out, which enrages Zero.

ZERO: Daamn yoouu!!

Zero rushes over to X in a rage, flies up and performs a flaming stab from his Z-Saber

X’s eyes widen as he thinks fast.  He uses a Super Goo Shaver barrage of ice blocks to knock Zero away.  X, then advances with an air-dash as he summons a wave of Super Frost Tower spikes.

One by one the giant ice spikes multiply and crash down on Zero, around the room.      

X pants as he looks down at Zero with regret.

X: Give it up, Zero...  Come on.

Out of nowhere, X is surprise attacked by an after-image of Zero.

X: Auugh

ZERO: You’d like that, wouldn’t you!?

Zero dashes into him and performs a Shippuga slash.

X bends down, favoring his stomach again.

ZERO: Hahahaha.

He grabs X by the head and knees him in the face.

X: Khaa!!

X retaliates with a Super Rising Fire Uppercut, which catches him off-guard.  From mid-air, X doubles down with a Super Ground Fire wave, which blasts Zero back against the wall.

X & ZERO: AAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!

When the fire dies down, Zero flies right into him again and the two grapple once more.  With gritted teeth, they butt heads. X’s new helmet is much stronger than Zero’s, causing him to falter and release his hold. Then, X can see the damage he’s done.

Zero wavers a few steps back until he re-gathers himself. Blood trickles down his cheeks as he points at X, weakened.

ZERO: (wounded) You would NEVER be this powerful without the help of your precious Dr. Light.  

X: I already told you, I’ll do whatever it takes to win! And I’m not through yet!!

ZERO: Hmph...I don’t need any upgrades to defeat you…

X: You’ve received enough of one already...

He blasts Zero in the chest with a Super F-Laser, which burns a hole through his plating and carves quite a scar across his under-armor.

ZERO: Ourghh.. Daamn, you...

X: (continuing) I’m gonna undo what Sigma made you... and…whoever that is.

X points at the Dr. W logo in the background.

ZERO: His name, was Wily!  

Zero bashes another Messenko Giga Attack across the room.  X back-dashes in an attempt to evade it, but still gets knocked around by the waves of blasts. He decides to counter with a Crescent Forcefield and dash into Zero.

ZERO: Agh!!

Zero levitates upwards.

X uses his thrusters to hover in mid-air.  He grabs Zero by the chest and lets his Forcefield carve more scars into his dented armor.  He punches Zero in the face, sternum and gut before his thrusters cease and he is forced to land. Upon touching down, he shoots a Plasma Shot at Zero, turns yellow and catches Zero in a Super Lightning Web.

ZERO: (shocked, struggling) Grr..aarrghhh...

X doubles down with strikes of Super Tri-Thunder, which clash right against Zero, knocking him down through the Lightning Web. He cancelled out his own attack, but it was worth it.  Zero was smoking.  He could sense the Virus around him, fading.

Zero starts to hurt as much as X had before.  He covers his swelling head and curls up, showing a rare sign of vulnerability. His Armor fades from black to red.

ZERO: (v.o, thinking) Damn it.  This is not good!

An idea comes to Zero as X walks over to him.  

X: Hey...  Are you alright?

ZERO: I... think so...  H-help me up...

X’s eyes widen, as he immediately drops his guard and holds out his hand.

ZERO: Hehe.. FOOL!!!!!

Zero immediately uppercuts him with a flaming Ryuenjin slash, which burns X at the chest and knocks him down.

ZERO: /Hahahah. /HAHAH!!!

Zero blasts him twice with two buzz-saw blasts and both catch him, causing direct explosions against his armor.

X: AAAGGHH HAAARRRGGHH!!!!  HOW DARE YOU!!?

Irate and damaged, X rises up from the destruction and jumps after him with brown-tinted armor.

In mid-air he summons a Super Soul Body, which creates 5 after images of X.  All of them air-dash into Zero at different angles, and knock him back down.

ZERO: Waaaaaaagggghhhhh!!!!! 

X capitalizes on his punishment with a Plasma Shot that blows a hole through his ribs.  

ZERO: Aaaaghhhh!!!!!

X: You’re beaten, Zero. Lets call it even.

ZERO: (stubborn) It’s not over yet...

He Hisuisho air-dashes back up, knocking into X, who falters back a few steps.

Zero proceeds to furiously punch X in the face, the side of his head and then his chest, but X blocks it. X blocks another punch aimed at his stomach and shoves Zero away.

X heel-kicks him in the head, but Zero catches his foot and pushes X down to the floor.

Zero lifts up his saber, but X shoots the hilt straight out of his hand.  Annoyed, Zero shoots at X with a full Z-buster blast, directly to the chest.

X: (surprised) Ahhh!

ZERO: (smirking) Gotcha…

X: No ya don’t...

From the ground, X lets out another Super Soul Body attack, which Zero manages to dodge and analyze as he evades the attack with glowing eyes.  Zero picks his saber back up as he runs away.

X gets up, dashes behind him and punches Zero in the lower back.  It was not like X to fight dirty, but at this point, it was do or die.

ZERO: Agh!  

Zero elbows X directly in the forehead.  He turns around and shoots X three times with huge white blasts.

X: (in pain) Ghaaawww…

The powerful buster shots feel worse by the moment, but X rises to his feet, knowing that this pain was nothing compared to the pain Zero caused all those people for so many years.  Indirectly or not, Zero was still responsible for everything.  Maybe the Prophecy was true.  Maybe everything was going to end tonight.

X clenches a fist as it starts to glow blue.

ZERO: Come on X!!  What are you gonna do now!?

X: If I can’t save you... thenI… am going to finish you!

The two run after each other.  X’s inner-power swells as a golden aura surrounds his body once again.  While maintaining a glowing blue fist, X takes flight.

X: NOOOVVVAAAA STRIIIIIIIKE!!!!!!!

Zero stares at X carefully and his gem flashes white.

ZERO: TWIN DREAM!!!!

Zero announces a new attack as he creates a Soul Body, after-image of his own, which strikes at in the heart with a soul saber, just as hard as Zero’s physical saber clashes against X’s Nova-powered body.

ZERO: HUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

X: AAAAAAAAAAaaaahhhhh!!!!

The two fall, parallel to each other, head-to-foot.

X spits out blood as he lands from their attack.

His body immediately powers down.  His Ultimate Armor relinquishes itself and reverts back to his Base Armor.

Zero’s body equally shows no trace of the Virus, as he pants and sweats in his red armor.

They both writhe in pain, immobile on the floor.

X: Aaaggghhh! I thought I won... I didn't expect you to do that... I never expected you to use Soul Body... Ohhh...I'm losing...consciousness...

Zero puts his hand over his aching heart.

ZERO: ...Uh, Ugh......X, X...

X just lies there, unconscious.

X: …......

ZERO: …......

After a long lapse of silence Sigma fades into the room with two fists full of energy.

SIGMA: … Ha ha ha...  You’ve done very well, X...  I will make your end easy!!

Zero looks on, annoyed at Sigma.

ZERO: ...NO, I won’t allow you to! I know everything you’re trying to do!

He jumps in front of X and guards him.

SIGMA: Then, be a good boy and just die!

Sigma blasts Zero with both arms, creating a huge explosion that tears him apart.  Immediately, he is swept away from the blast.

ZERO: (struggling, resisting) ...Uh, Uwaaaaa!  ...X...X... Please survive...!  ...Survive!  X...  Live... for... me...

Zero’s body is ripped in half, as he falls right at X’s side.

With his wires exposed at the torso, Zero is helpless to defeat.

Sigma looks down at his contemporary and frowns at what could have been.

SIGMA: You’d almost fully evolved into your true self...  It’s a shame you didn’t quite make it, Zero.  You had so much potential.  Oh well.. Farewell!

He walks over to X and smiles.

SIGMA: Well...  it is only you and me now… X - The strongest Reploid!  Bwah ha ha!

X: (hurt, weak) …......  ...I’m...losing my strength... and......energy...  I... can’t... see any...thing... ...Ze... Zero... Don’t... leave... Please... stand... by... me... ...I’ll... protect... you... Zero...

X passes out with a whisper in despair.

SIGMA: Awww, isn’t that sweeet...  Come...  It is time we made our preparations...

He bends down and hoists X over his shoulder.  Then he looks down at Zero with a scowl.

SIGMA: Hmph. I will let you live this time. But I won’t be so kind next time you try to betray me. And there WILL be a next time, won’t there, boy...?  Hee hee hee...  

He grabs what little remains of Zero’s body and teleports away with them.

-cut to-

----------------------------------------------------------

INT.  FALLEN COLONY – Sigma's Lair – DAY

----------------------------------------------------------

Sigma appears in the middle of his lair, with X and Zero in hand.  He positions one under each arm as he carries them both to two broken Pods.  One is blue and the other is red.  These are their Host Pods, retrieved from the Forbidden Place – the area in which both X and Zero were first discovered.

SIGMA: Rest up, boys. We have a World to control.

He grins as he places them both in their respective pods.

SIGMA: See you soon…!

-Freezeframe. Grainy effect-

-Fade to Black-

#MMXFanfics #Season V #Ep. 16 #Intervention of Destiny #X vs. Zero #Decisive Battle #Rematch #Eurasia #Stage 3

[oldguybones]

Summary: “I'm just tired of being the same broken kid." “We're all broken, Richie.” Group Home AU

Pairings: Reddie & Stanlon (Eventually Benverly too)

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4/? (Read on Ao3)

Warnings/Tags: Aged Up Characters. Lots of dark subject matter, including: abuse, self-harm, mention of sexual abuse, mention of suicide, mention of panic attacks. Bold ones are included in this specific chapter

“A little to the left. No, no, no. My left.”

“Would you like to come do it yourself?”

“That's perfect! Now c'mon, let’s do this!”

Richie shook his head, though he wore the fondest smile as he joined his sister on his bed. They had set up her phone on his desk and move it so it stood right in front of them. He crossed his legs under himself and pulled his guitar into his lap.

“Remind me again why we're recording this?” he asked, fingers giving the strings a few test strums.

“Ummm...so that someday we'll be famous,” she replied matter-of-factly, “Then we'll be able to get out of this hell hole.”

Richie nodded and offered a small smile, “Ready?”

“More than.”

Richie shook away the implications of those words and counted to three aloud before beginning to strum a soft melody. Shortly after, Sydney joined him, singing the words to match.

“All I have is one last chance

I won’t turn my back on you

Take my hand, drag me down

If you fall then I will too

And I can't save what's left of you.”

Richie smiled to himself as they both sang, adding some soft harmonies to accompany hers. He had to admit, they sounded pretty damn good.

“Say something new

I have nothing left

I can't face the dark without you

There's nothing left to lose

The fighting never ends

I can't face the dark without you.”

He glanced over at his sister. Her eyes were closed, head nodding along to the music while her fingers drummed against her thighs. She was in her element and it'd been a while since he'd seen her so happy. He only wished she could always be like this. She deserved to be. Happy and carefree.

A slam brought both of them to a halt. They shared a brief look and slumped off the bed. A loud obnoxious voice sounded through the apartment. They both cringed at the addition of a second voice, this one male. There was no intelligible words, merely sounds and gibberish.

“You think they're drunk or high?” Richie pondered aloud, grabbing his guitar and walking it over the closet.

“Ohhh, I'm sorry,” Sydney continued, voice resembling that of a game show host. “The answer is actually the hidden third option of both!”

Richie chuckled bitterly, stashing his guitar on the shelf in his closet.

“Why do you keep your guitar in there?”

Richie scoffed, “So it doesn't get pawned for drug money.”

“Fair enough.”

12:30am. After a fitful couple hours of trying to sleep, Richie found walking downstairs He planned to see if Bev was out back. They'd developed a habit of smoking together at least a few times a week. Before he could confirm her presence, he was distracted as he passed by the living room. The soft glow from the TV illuminated the otherwise dark room.

Eddie sat on the sat, feet tucked under his knees. He wore a pair of baggy sweats and a t-shirt, which hung just above his belly button. His heart fluttered in his chest for two reasons; first of all, Eddie looked extremely cute and secondly, though dark, Richie could see what looked like a scar on the right, lower part of his exposed stomach. He didn't have much time to process his observation since Eddie's attention was drawn over to him.

“Hey,” he said with a sleepy smile. “Wanna join me?”

“Sure,” he replied, almost making it to the couch before Eddie's hand flew up and pointed to a nearby chair.

“Before you sit down,” he called out quickly, “Can you grab that blanket?”

Richie chuckled softly, grabbing said blanket and tossing it to him. It landed on his head, most of it falling to drape over his body. “Perfect,” he retorted sarcastically.

Richie pulled the blanket down for him, letting it pool in his lap. He licked his lips as Eddie's face was revealed, a lot closer than he anticipated.

“Sit down,” Eddie requested, patting the space beside him. When Richie took the spot, he lifted the blanket and then draped it over his lap so they were both under it. Richie enjoyed the way Eddie's knee rested on his thigh. It was a simple, but intimate touch.

“So what brings you down here?” Richie asked, softer than he’d meant to.

Eddie shrugged casually, “Couldn't sleep. Figured I'd come down and watch some TV.”

“Friends? Really?” Richie asked incredulously. He wasn't necessarily judging the other's taste in television shows but he just had a hard time believing this was something Eddie was into.

“What? It's a good show!” Eddie defended, smacking his arm playfully, “It's easy to watch. You don't have to pay too much attention and it's funny. Perfect for late nights.”

“If you say so,” Richie chuckled, sticking his tongue out as Eddie shot him a glare. “Why aren't you upstairs shacking up with someone else then?”

“Okay, I haven't 'shacked up' with anyone in a long time,” Eddie retorted, emphasizing the phrase with air quotes.

“Ohhh,” Richie cringed, nodding in mock realization, “Is that why you're so cranky all the time?”

“Ha. Ha.”

They both fell silent, attention turning to the show playing on the TV. For a few minutes, they just watched before Eddie finally spoke up again, breaking the silence.

“Stan's been sleeping with Mike for the past few weeks.”

Richie nodded, “Yeah, I know. We share a room.” Ever since that night, the two of them hadn't spent a night apart. Every night after Mrs. Hanscom checked in on them, Stan would walk through the bathroom that connected their two rooms and slide into bed with the other boy. He strode quietly every time and, had Richie been asleep any of those times, he wouldn't have woken up. Some nights, Richie would mind his own business and continue to pretend he was in fact asleep. Other nights, he peeked over where the other two laid. Stan usually pressed up against Mike's side, who had his arm tightly wrapped around the other. Sometimes they would spoon. Richie tried not to make a habit of watching the two because he didn't want to be such a creep, but it was truly endearing how well the two fit together.

“Right,” Eddie murmured softly, his eyes briefly caught on the blanket in his lap. Sucking in a breath, he looked up at Richie. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You technically just did,” Richie replied, flashing him a cheesy grin.

“I'm being serious,” Eddie insisted, his voice soft, but firm. When Richie nodded, he continued, “Why did you react like that? When you walk in on it...”

Richie immediately felt his skin grow hot. The answer to this question was not only complicated, but also something he did not want to get into. Richie definitely no longer classified them all as strangers, but he still held no desire to express his deepest and darkest secrets to the others, or anyone at all. Especially not to Eddie. Despite the amount of compassion he'd witness from the other, voluntarily making himself feel weak in front him was the last thing he wanted to do. As much as he wanted to deny it, he simply couldn't; he had a crush on Eddie. Not only was he cute, but he cared about everyone close to him and took zero shit from anyone. Richie knew it was stupid and it certainly made him feel like he was in middle school all over again but he just couldn't help it.

He quickly tried to cover up with a half-hearted chuckle, “I mean, I'm not heartless Eddie.”

“That's not what I mean,” Eddie replied in all seriousness, his gaze remaining fixed on him.

Richie tried not to get distracted by Eddie's soft skin or the way his teeth subconsciously chewed at his bottom lip. He also tried to ignore the subject they were apparently discussing now. Richie didn't want to lie to him, especially with the crush he was harboring for him. But he also didn't have any interest in telling him the truth. So he did the best he could and concocted a statement which answered his question without divulging the intimate details.

“Someone I knew from school killed herself last year,” he said, barely able to choke out the words. Eddie could probably tell it was a lie, but if he could, he didn't let on.

“I'm sorry,” he said gently. A moment of silence passed between them again as a new episode began to play. Eddie's head fell to rest on Richie's shoulder. “This is my favorite episode. Will you stay and watch it with me?”

Richie found it impossible to say no to such a request and the weight of Eddie's head resting against him made his heart flutter. “Yeah, sure,” he whispered breathlessly. After a while of stillness, Richie worked up enough courage to press a kiss to Eddie's hair. The action resulted in a sleepy sigh, followed by slow, steady breathing. Richie peeked down at the boy sleeping on his shoulder, making sure he didn't make any sudden movement. He gently let his head fall to rest on Eddie's and let his eyes slip shut.

Richie woke hours later, jostled by the sound of footsteps shuffling along the floor. He squinted, eyes struggling to see through the darkness of the night. When they finally adjusted enough, he saw Bill standing in the middle of the living room, facing away from them. Over the TV that was still going, he could hear a soft mumbling. He groaned as he struggled to sit up, Eddie was now pressed against his side, leaning the entirety of his weight against him. He felt Eddie stir, but otherwise showed no indication of waking.

“Bill?” Richie asked inquisitively.

“Georgie?” Bill spoke gently, voice resembling a small child.

Richie frowned in confusion. Did he really just hear Bill's voice? He couldn't recall a time when he actually heard it before. “No it's Richie. What's going on?”

“Georgie, I miss you,” Bill whispered, the tears evident in his voice. “Things haven't been the same since you left.”

Richie opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the sound of Eddie's sleepy voice, “Bill, wake up,” he called, not even opening his eyes. After a minute, Bill turned around to face them, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“C'mere,” Eddie insisted. His eyes were still shut and he was still pressed against Richie's side. He held his arm open as Bill walked over to the couch. He sat down beside Eddie, dropping his head down to rest on his thigh. Eddie rested his arm around Bill, his fingers idly trailing up and down his forearm.

Richie remained still, his gaze peeking over at the sight beside him. It wasn't long before both of them were fast asleep, Bill clearly comforted by Eddie's touch. In the short amount of time they'd known each other, he could definitely relate. Rather than dwell on it, Richie simply rested his head back on Eddie's and, shortly after, joined the other two in slumber.

In the morning, he woke before Eddie. Bill must have woken up before both of them, as he was no longer by Eddie's side. A smile graced his lips, as Eddie appeared almost angelic, bathed in the bright sunlight breaking through the windows. His fingers seemed to take on a life of their own as they gently raked through his soft, brown hair. The gesture earned him a sleepy sound of approval, which in turn only made his smile grow.

“Mmm, morning,” Eddie murmured softly, throwing his arms up over his head in a long stretch. When he did, his already short shirt rode up even further. Richie swallowed hard, eyes drawn to the newly exposed smooth skin.

“What's this?” Richie inquired, boldly brushing his thumb over the scar on Eddie's side. He'd be lying if he said he didn't notice the way Eddie shivered under his touch.

“A scar,” he answered sarcastically, only continuing when Richie stuck out his tongue in response, “Got my appendix removed a couple years ago.”

“Yikes, must've been scary,” Richie responded.

Eddie shrugged, “Not really.”

How in the world someone could be so fearless was beyond him. He'd never met anyone quite like him before, that's for sure. “We better get ready for school,” Eddie said, patting Richie's knee then using the hold to push himself up. “At least it's Friday!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms up in fake enthusiasm as he walked towards the stairs. Richie's gaze followed him. He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh. This boy was going to be the death of him.

Even it being Friday wasn't enough to pull Richie through the day. With each hour that passed, he grew more and more anxious, completely unable to shake the feeling. His mind took him all over the place; the group therapy he'd have to endure the next day, the sound of his sister's voice ringing in his ears, the way it felt to have Eddie's warm body curled up against him. Basically his mind went everywhere except the schoolwork he should be focusing on.

He noticed, gradually, it became harder to breathe; a familiar tremble tickled the tips of his fingers. He desperately wished he could ignore the feeling creeping up on him. No. Not here.

Despite the protests of the teacher behind him, Richie flew out of the classroom and ran down the hallway. He ducked into the first unoccupied room he found. Only one thought hit him as he glanced around the room. Of fucking course.

Momentarily his train of thought was distracted by the pure irony of the situation. All he could do was laugh. He slumped over to one of the many chairs, flopping down in it. He hung his head in his hands, attempting to ignore the elephant in the room. The closer he felt to complete helplessness, the more he thought fuck it.

His shaky hands grasped the neck of the closest guitar, pulling it into his lap. The familiarity washing over him brought him a slight amount of comfort. As his fingers strummed the chords, he tried to recall the last time he played. The melody filling the room gave him his answer.

“Say something new

I have nothing left

I can't face the dark without you

There's nothing left to lose

The fighting never ends

I can't face the dark without you”

He closed his eyes and, in no time, he was back there again. Sydney sat beside him, her fingers tapping out a rhythm against her leg, one Richie could not hear. He looked over at her. Her lips were moving, but producing no sounds. His eyes were drawn down to her wrists; the contrast of red pooling against the white fabric made his stomach churn. All he could hear was his own scream, deafening even in his own mind. But it felt so incredibly real that he couldn't even hear the melodies he was creating.

The whole song played out, practically unheard to his own ears.

“Wow,” Richie heard from the doorway. He peeked up and saw Eddie walking over to him, taking the chair next to him. “That was beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Richie whispered, the imaginary ringing beginning to fade and allow him to hear again. He set the guitar back on its stand and laced his fingers together, rubbing his thumb along the palm of the opposite hand. Richie wished he didn't know exactly where he picked up this habit. But an image flashed in his mind, hands moving in the same motion, frantically trying to wash the blood from his hands. The way the water ran red below his hands reminded him. He quickly dropped his hands, letting them run anxiously along the fabric of his jeans.

“I didn't know you played,” Eddie commented, “You don't have a guitar, do you?”

“Uhhh, no,” Richie murmured, reluctant to divulge the real reasoning for his lack of guitar. “It, uh, got smashed in the move.”

“That's too bad,” Eddie said, placing his hand on Richie's knee, “Are you okay?”

The words posed an innocent question. He knew the truth. He knew the answer he wanted to give. His whole time there he'd only fed them the answers he wanted, his words spinning a half truth, which kept them all at arms length. Just the way he wanted. So he surprised himself when his eyes met Eddie's and, with no hesitation, told him the truth.

“No.”

“And that's okay,” Eddie spoke gently, taking Richie's quivering hands in his own, “You know that right?”

“I'm just tired of being the same broken kid,” Richie whispered, staring down at their hands. The warm touch stilled some of the trembling in his hands. It was the most truth he'd told in a long time and it truly terrified him.

“We're all broken, Richie.”

In Eddie's eyes, he saw pain and understanding. He also saw patience and compassion. A silent moment passed between them. “But things get better. Give it time.” Eddie ducked his head down to press the softest, chastest kiss to his lips. “If you ever want to talk or anything, I'm here.”

Richie didn't even have time to process his confusion as Eddie stood and made his way towards the door. Right before he hit the door, Eddie spun around.

“Mrs. Hanscom wanted me to tell you,” he began, unknowingly making Richie cringe with those words. “She's taking us all to the carnival tomorrow.”

“The carnival?” Richie asked incredulously.

Eddie chuckled, sarcastically adding, “Yeah, because apparently we're all eight years old.”

Richie laughed along with him, still hung up on the tingle Eddie's lips left on his. It felt nothing like any kiss he experienced before. There was a different motive behind it. It didn't elicit a wild uncontrollable race of his heart. All he felt was calm, at ease. “It'll be fun,” Eddie said genuinely, flashing a toothy grin. An unfamiliar feeling washed over him. Home. But not the home he knew; the home he always wanted.

Richie couldn't say he was entirely thrilled to be in the middle of the annual Derry carnival. The lights were blinding, all the sounds deafening. The token carnival music that seemed to be playing every step of the way, sounded just slightly the wrong tone. Richie couldn't put his finger on it but it didn't sound right. Plus in the short amount of time they'd been walking around, at least four clowns crossed their path and Richie did not care to see any more.

But his attention was captivated by something else. Eddie walked alongside him, clad in a white t-shirt underneath a pair of denim overalls. They were cuffed at the bottom and joined by a pair of red converse. Richie found it hard not to stare. Eddie was indescribably cute right now; the way he rocked the overalls he wore, his carefree smile and the little bounce in his step as they walked along. Beverly had ran off with Ben and Bill, saying something about checking out the fun house. Stan and Mike were a few paces ahead of them, fingers tightly laced together. Eventually Stan pulled them off to the side to a booth with prizes to be won.

“Oh!” Eddie exclaimed, throwing his arm in front of Richie's face to excitedly point towards the long queue to their left. “Lets ride that!”

Richie looked over at the roller coaster the line belonged to and let out a chuckle, “Are you sure you're even tall enough?”

Eddie scoffed in offense and shoved his hands against Richie's upper arm. There wasn't a whole lot of strength behind it and, had Richie not felt weak in the knees already, he wouldn't have stumbled the way he did. “Jerk!” he shouted, though it quickly faded into an infectious laugh. Eddie's hand slipped into his own and tugged him in the direction of the line.

Much to Richie's surprise and contentment, their fingers stayed locked together the whole time they waited. He could feel a pulse of Eddie's hand squeezing his and, when he looked over, he noticed the other boy tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.

Richie smiled fondly, “Nervous?”

“Yeah,” Eddie admitted breathlessly, looking up at Richie in a way that made his heart flutter. His soft brown eyes bore into him, yet left him vulnerable at the same time.

“Yeah, me too,” Richie mumbled, though his words seemed to hold a completely different connotation.

As the roller coaster took them towards the sky, Richie couldn't decide which made him more nervous; the way Eddie gripped his hand like his life depended on it or the inevitable fall they would soon face. The drop brought about a sense of weightlessness, as did Eddie's thrilled shout which faded to the most melodic laugh when the ride pulled into the gate. Richie hadn't a clue how good it would feel, the brief moment where all his burden washed away. Much like the top of the coaster, he felt on top of the world. It was a feeling he'd never experienced before, but he wished it could last forever. But also like the ride, after such a great height came a devastating fall.

But the second Eddie looked over at him and said, “Let’s go again,” Richie immediately found the courage to agree. He wanted to fall again.

So they rode again and then moved on to a multitude of other rides. All the while, Eddie's hand still held in his own. Even on the tamest rides and the trips in between them, he didn't let go. And Richie wasn't about to. He would never dream of it.

“I'm gonna throw up,” Eddie whined, his other arm clutching his stomach.

Richie snorted in laughter, having spent the last fifteen minutes watching Eddie shovel a variety of carnival food into his mouth. The whole time, Richie was torn between two thoughts: how in the world could Eddie fit that much food inside his body and how could he look so damn cute doing it?

“Well yeah,” Richie chuckled, stating as if it was obvious, “You ate half the carnival.”

“Huh...” Eddie trailed off thoughtfully, then glanced up at Richie as he continued, “Maybe that's why my breath smells so funny.....Get it?” he lightly jabbed his elbow to Richie's side, “Half the carnival, half the clowns. Clowns are funny!”

Richie shook his head, offering the softest laugh, “You can eat them all. Clowns are creepy as fuck.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks, eyes squinting suspiciously as he peered over at Richie. A teasing smile spread over his lips, “Are you afraid of clowns, Richie?”

“I don't feel the need to answer that,” Richie retorted, crossing his arms over his chest and sticking his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “What? You don't have any irrational fears?”

Eddie's smile faded all too quickly, “I do,” he answered somberly, “Sometimes I'm afraid I'll wake up in the hospital and this has all been some kind of crazy, drug induced dream.”

“That makes mine sound kinda stupid,” Richie mumbled quietly. Sure, he had plenty of other fears but he enjoyed pretending that wasn't the case. At least for the time being.

Things stayed quiet for a moment before Eddie let out a roaring laugh, “Gotcha! You shoulda seen your face! I was just kidding!” Richie had a sinking suspicion those words were a lie, but he had no right to press Eddie for any kind of information. He wasn't exactly forthcoming himself.

“Wanna go on the Ferris wheel?” Eddie quipped, eyes reflecting gold in the sun. For a moment, Richie was breathless, staring into Eddie’s eyes like they were the last thing he’d ever see. And somehow, in that moment, Richie wouldn't mind if that came true.

“Only if you don't barf on me,” Richie teased, embracing a moment of boldness and slinging his arm over Eddie's shoulders.

“No promises.”

A big smile broke over his face as he felt Eddie lace their fingers together. “I'll take my chances.”

Sunday was quickly coming to an end, no matter how desperately Richie wished otherwise. For the first time in a long time, he felt okay. The previous day had been the best he'd had since he didn't even know when. His mind wasn't bogged down with sadness as usual, but rather there was an unfamiliar clarity. Richie chalked it up to one thing and one thing only: Eddie. Something about him rendered his body completely at ease. He felt as calm as the twilight settling around them.

After dinner, everyone went outside to enjoy the mild evening. To no one's surprise, Mike sat in the grass, Stan's head resting in his lap. He plucked small dandelions from the ground and tucked them into his blonde curls. Bev, Ben, and Mrs. Hanscom all chatted idly on the deck. Eddie stretched out on the hammock, both hands tucked behind his head. Since it was his turn to do the dishes, Richie was the last to join everyone outside. His first instinct led him over to the hammock. But then he noticed Bill laid out on his stomach, with a sketchbook in front of him, hand scribbling across the page. Intrigued, he went over and crouched down beside him. On the paper was a beautiful sketch of two people, one resembling him, the other with similar features but much younger.

“Wow, that's amazing,” he whispered breathlessly, eyes fixed on the image that seemed perfect, yet it was a mess of eraser marks. Right around the smiles both of them wore the paper looked weak, like one more swipe of the erase would rip a hole in it.

Bill wore a small smile as he slowly flipped through the other pages. They were filled with an endless array of beautifully sketched people, some appeared to be a family; there was at least one of each person there, though Eddie had multiple pages.

But one picture stood out. He frowned as his hand darted out to prevent him from turning to the next page. When he scanned over the sketch, his heart immediately began to race as did the tremors to his fingers. His mind felt hazy and he could barely maintain his balance as he stood, fingers gripping the sketchbook as tightly as he could.

“Who the fuck is this?” he asked through clenched teeth.

Drawn out on the paper was a young, dark haired girl with sharp features that mirrored his own. The more he stared at it, the more he saw it. Her. Sydney.

“Who the fuck is this?” he repeated, his voice much louder this time, attracting the attention of those around them. Bill peered up at him with a look of pure confusion. “Where did you see this?! Where did you sketch this from?” Richie's hands shook violently as he shoved the sketchbook into Bill's view. He couldn't control the way his volume kept increasing. He could hardly control the words coming from his mouth.

“What the fuck is your problem? Why won't you answer me?” he yelled, ripping the page out and chucking the book itself behind him. By this time, Mrs. Hanscom and Eddie rushed over, while everyone else watched on, expressions somewhere between confusion and concern.

“Richie, knock it off,” Eddie said gently. He grabbed at Richie's upper arm, trying to pull him away from the scene but his grip was immediately and forcefully shrugged off.

“Not until you answer me! Where the fuck did you see her?” When he was met with no answer, he laughed and shook his head. The small part of his mind still aware of the situation wondered why he laughed in this moment but the tears rolling down his cheeks told a different story. His chest heaved drastically as he fought to breathe; his fingers desperately tore at the paper, an action which should've been easy but due to the way they tremble and his dwindling strength, it was a struggle.

“Richie, you need to stop,” Mrs. Hanscom pressed firmly, placing herself between the two of them. Bill looked absolutely terrified, but he still remained silent. “You need to sit down and take a breath.”

A wave of dizziness washed over him as his legs wobbled under the pressure to support him. He watched Eddie move over to stand beside Bill, pulling him into his arms. A part of him was grateful as his vision began to blur, unable to see the look of disappointment presumably etched across Eddie's face. There were more words on the tip of his tongue. He didn't get the chance, however, as everything went dark and his head smacked against the ground.

--

Special thanks to @reddie-to-fight for beta-ing this for me! 

Taglist:

@reddiexxmileven @mtvreddie @richies-trashglasses @stanuterus @cyber-nini

@i-is-gazebo

#reddie #stanlon #my work #kitd

[moonbelt]

»kaleidoscope

↳soulmate au | baseball player au

⇢ pairing: park jinyoung | reader

⇢ genre: fluff + soft angst

⇢ word count: 7.227

author’s note: born out of this anon request and the unbecoming amount of love i have for soulmate aus lmaoo

It's a cold, dark and windy day in the middle of April when you first see through the eyes of someone else.

Cold weather, although comfy when in sweatshirts and cardigans, isn't your favorite thing in the world, and given your luck, the weather isn't the only thing that has been slowly creeping up your skin. Your boyfriend — ex now — had given you the whole breakup speech a day before. The usual "it's not you, it's me," as he slid his fingers into the ones of his newly found soul mate. You don't intend to sound like a broken record to your posse of friends, but you find yourself repeating the same words every ten minutes.

"Fuck soulmates."

Your closest friend, Althea, laughs at your statement but doesn't try to talk you out of your self-indulgent mourning. You'll be honest, you don't hate the concept of soulmates but you do despise how quickly Nathan had dropped you; like hot coal. With a flick of his wrist, you were gone and replaced by Mr. Nice Guy. You didn't bother to remember Nathan's soulmate's name, why would you? You'd thought you and Nathan were forever. As it turns out, forever only lasts a year and six months. A whole year and a half of Nathan and you asserting that having soulmates 'didn't matter in the grand schemes of life.' Now you realize, that had all been wishful thinking and the height of naiveté.

Grabbing the nearest bottle of soda, you crack open the lid and down half of it in one gulp, pretending it's something stronger. You're on a mission to not drink any alcohol because of him. And even though your chest is a mass of emotions and broken promises, you figure you'd rather die than give Nathan the satisfaction of crying over him. Not that he'd care. He doesn't seem to care for you at all anymore and you're on track to doing the same.

Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a heartwarming experience. Colored by streams of light and love, something you'll tell everyone you know - and the people you don't - because you finally found the one made for you. You understand that you're being a tad cynical but, what happens to the person who was left behind? What happens to you? The glitch in the equation. Do your feelings suddenly, by some sort of miracle, become invalid? Because at this moment, you are sure there's nothing worse than feeling like discarded leftovers.

It wasn't like you didn't know the both of you had soulmates lounging around and about out there in the world. You knew this. But you'd thought it had no effect on your connection. It's not like you'd ever met your soulmate before to have something to compare your relationship to. Nathan himself had called you his one and only love, proclaiming to the heavens and back how he was willing to fight for you. You scoff. All his words, about how the soulmate business didn't faze him, coming to bite you in the ass.

Soulmate or not, the two of you had loved each other. Or at least you loved him. And now you were trying to un-love him all on your own.

"You know what we should do?" BamBam, who originally was a distant friend of a friend but nuzzled his way into your group, perks up in his seat. "Ditch this dump and head to Club Medusa. I swear you'll forget Nathan even existed within ten minutes."

"I'd rather spare my lungs Bam," you say rolling your eyes as you kick your head back and stare at the fluorescent overhead lights.

The fast-food joint you and your group of friends are currently inhabiting is a newly established one. Freshly opened and with zero regular customers, which in turn made it one of your favorite places. You'd rather be here than in a club where personal space was akin to the devil.

Althea reaches over with her boot-clad foot and nudges your knee, dragging your attention back to her. Her face is pressed against her palm as she leans on the table's surface, a look of pity painted across her features.

"If it makes you feel any better, you're lucky he found his soulmate now and not later down the line. I mean, imagine if he left you at the altar? God, or worse if he —"

BamBam hits her arm... hard, effectively cutting your best friend off. "You are not helping. Like at all. Let me handle this, okay?" He angles his body back at you. "[y/n], believe me when I say anything," he flashes a pointed look at Althea. "Beats eating burger and fries — alone — after a breakup."

"I'm not alone. I have you guys," you say feigning ignorance, raising your hands to your chest and bowing them into a heart. "I love you guys."

Althea snorts out in laughter while Bambam shakes his head in bemusement. You really do love them, honest, more than you bargained for. Platonic soulmates are something you're glad to believe in, especially now that your friends haven't ditched you even with all your moping and sulking.

At the back of your mind, however, you acknowledge BamBam's logic. It does suck to eat junk food after a breakup but rationally, you think Althea is kind of right. You are somewhat lucky that Nathan and you called it quits before things got too serious. Even though almost two years in most relationships would be considered pretty damn serious. You thought it was serious, apparently, Nathan had not. Besides, you're trying to look at the bright side of the situation and not resort to crying your heart out in a near-empty restaurant. So just to prove a point, you reach over and stuff your mouth with a handful of fries.

Fast food might not be the answer but you sure as hell are going to make it work.

BamBam swats your hand away when you try to grab another set of fries, going on another rave about how Club Medusa is the shit. You know it's just another excuse for him to go on a dabbing spree in the cloak of darkness and an intoxicated crowd. You're about to tell him off for the umpteenth time that night; you are most definitely not getting drunk off your ass just because you got dumped. You're not that pathetic, you think. However, before you can get the words past your lips, a wave of nausea inflames your senses.

It floods over you so quickly that you don’t have time to register what’s happening as your vision darkens to pitch black. When it relights, it's to a completely different view.

Loud cheering and even louder panting usher you in. It feels... like your chest is about to implode in on itself, sweat relentlessly pooling at your armpits. You've never felt such an adrenaline rush before. Sure, you've done a few workout routines here and there but this felt oddly contrasting and for a moment your body freezes up, clutching the only thing in your hand for support. Which so happens to be a bat? But even with the peculiar item, you strangely feel at ease. Safe. Like you've done this a thousand times before even though you're positive you have not. Still, more than anything, you're confused by your situation. And when you raise your head in an attempt to determine your surroundings, you almost lose your footing.

Maybe it's due to the feeling of unfamiliarity that seeps into your bones once your eyes connect with what's ahead of you, or maybe it's because your heart has faulted in its beating, but you suddenly can't breathe.

Large expanses of sand and neatly cut grass lay onward. There's a distinct cheer that filters through your ears. "Jinyoung. Park. Jinyoung. Park." It's loud. It's deafening. And it is taking up all the space left in the stadium. Contrary to what you think, it gives you an unusual sense of calm? But in spite of that, you can't stop the one question relaying in your mind: what the fuck is going on?

Your eyes connect with the man directly in your line of sight. Posture prickly straight with a cap sitting low on his head. Blue uniform loose yet fitting against his form, and a gloved hand dangerously close to his chest. The urge to scream in fear is daunting. What, the ever-loving-fuck, is going on? You have absolutely no idea. You vaguely remember that it resembles the dreams you used to have as a kid. Back in a time when you placed baseball players on a high pedestal, aspiring to be a professional later in life. Reality came in a hard dose of ridiculous hand-eye coordination and your father urging you to quit early to prevent catastrophic injuries.

Faster than light, the man in blue whips his arm back, his leg positioned slightly ajar as he releases the ball. Your eyes barely follow the white baseball that comes flying straight at you. On impulse, you're prepared to swing at it with all your pent-up frustrations. But just as fast as you were dragged away from your world, you are ruefully brought back. Clasping your chest like your life depends on it, a sheen of heavy sweat lining your forehead and brows, eyes wide as you wait for the ball to connect with — hopefully — not your face.

"Holy shit," you manage to stutter out long after the sensation has come and gone. Your heart took its time with catching itself back in place. Your friends don't seem to have noticed your out-of-body experience. Instead, their bickering is the only thing that remains constant.

BamBam is shooting Althea an unimpressed look as he draws his words out dryly. "All I'm saying is, [y/n] needs a break from relationships. Don't set up some stupid blind date and think you're doing the Lords work because I can assure you, you are not."

"This has absolutely nothing to do with you!" She exclaims incredulously, flipping her hair to the side. "[y/n] loves my blind dates, don't you [y/n]?" Althea cocks an expectant eyebrow at you, waiting for your input.

"Holy shit! Holy freaking shit!" You say instead with a voice louder than before, toppling over your chair in a bid to stand up and pace the adrenaline away. "Oh, my fucking gosh. D-did you guys see what j-just happened?"

"Um... no?" Bam's concerned gaze flicks incessantly between you and Althea like maybe the two of you are telepathic and are holding out on him. "Why are we freaking out? I want to know why we're freaking out. I can't freak out if I don't know what happened!"

"I-I just saw something. Or at least... I think I did."

Althea squints her eyes at you not exactly confident on where you're going with this, but nevertheless, she rises to her full height and clamps two calming hands on your shoulders.

"Deep breaths [y/n]. In out, in out. Whatever it is, it can't be worse than Nathan dumping you for Mr. Nice Guy —"

"Althea!" BamBam's exasperated voice booms out as he throws his arms up in the air. "Don't bring up that asshole, not now—"

You cut the conversation short. "I think I just connected with my soulmate," your voice reverts back to whispering. It's a miracle that Bambam can even hear you. "I mean, I'm not sure... but I'm positive I just saw a snippet from their life or something. Again, not sure about this, but I swear I'm not making this up I—"

"What?!" Althea cuts you off, her eyes widening in disbelief but also curiosity. All of you seem to be cutting each other off today. "You're not shitting us, are you?"

Amidst the pounding of your heart, you relax at her facial expression. "Do I look like I'm shitting on you right now? This has never happened before. Does this mean what I think it means or am I being delusional?" You look to Bambam for support.

He shrugs his shoulders in astonishment. "Why are you looking at me?! I've never met a rare before."

Soulmates — no matter how commonplace they've become over the decades and with the advancement of science, are still an enigma to the world. Why do they exist? How did they suddenly come into being? And most importantly, in what forms do people find them?

The most common had to be the name business. Finely printed letters across wrists, something you never got even after clocking seventeen. Closely after that came Soul marking — in which you only know your soulmate by touching them and getting a peculiar mark from them in that area. Add that to the never-ending list of stuff you've never experienced. But then there's the ultimate rarity, God tier level if you will, instances where people suddenly could see through their soul mates eyes; snippets that barely lasted four minutes.

You'd read countless work about them in your high school Advanced History class, some fabled and some rumored to be true, but not once did you think you would be the one experiencing it.

Terrifying yet thrilling at the same time.

"Do you know how amazing this is?" Althea is bouncing up and down, her arms caging you in a hug. "Loser Nathan can suck it. Your soulmate exists!"

Bambam quickly gets the memo and wraps his hands around the two of you, cementing your bond closer. You're still in a daze as your mind grasps the implication of what happened. You don't know if it is right to feel as elevated as you do.

Twenty-four hours ago, you had a relationship and although that has since become dust, you can't help the little attachment tying around your heart. What if your soulmate already has someone? Someone who is obviously not the one the universe wants for them, but someone nonetheless. What if they don't pull a Nathan and dump their significant other? What if they genuinely love them? More than they love a practical stranger at least. What if —

"This is a cause for celebration, isn't it?" Bambam shoots you a shit-eating grin as he releases his grip on you. "There's no reason why we can't hit Club Medusa —"

"I agree!" Althea nods her head adamantly, long hair falling across her shoulders.

You try, a little, to pay attention to the excitement of your friends but it proves to be a feeble attempt. Your mind - and heart - can't stop racing. It feels like you've flown closer to the sun, electricity flowing through your veins, lighting everything in sight. And even though you're sort of scared of how weightless you feel, you don't want to ever let this feeling go. You still have insecurities plaguing your mind, probably won't cease just because you want them to. But like before, you decide to only look at the bright side of the situation. At long last, the Universe is getting on your side and you're not stupid enough to jinx it with negative thoughts.

Soulmates might not be the end all and be all of the world, but you'd rather not spend the rest of your life wondering about the might-have-beens. At least for today, you vow to revel in this sensation, like everything is finally right.

Soon after, you find yourself leading your trio to Club Medusa, thoughts of your ex-banished to all hell and replaced by thoughts of the person with the bat. Two words piercing through your thoughts consistently. For reasons you don't understand, you get inexplicably lightheaded from them.

Park Jinyoung.

It has a nice ring to it, you think. Comparable to how you believe hitting a home run would feel like. Exhilarating; like you're gliding on ice and nothing can stop you. Not even death. Maybe it applies almost exclusively to death? As if this feeling won't ever stop, regardless if time passes.

It scares you. After all, almost every fairy tale you know of was spawned out of tragedy. And you're not stupid enough to believe completely in things you can't see. But for all that you do believe in, you want to trust this feeling.

Not to sound philosophical or anything like that, but life is all about moments. Moments before life, moments during life and moments afterlife. And no matter how coincidental you believe a situation to be, it most likely wasn't accidental or simply by chance. It comes as no surprise to you then that you find yourself repeating this mantra to yourself, more often than not, over the next few days since the incident.

You haven't experienced a really out of tuned snippet like the one you had back at the fast food restaurant. In fact, since then all you'd had were dizzy spells. Instances where you could taste something when you weren't eating. Or when you closed your eyes to doze for a bit, you'd wake up disoriented with the feeling of being in a body that is not yours. This happened for two weeks. Two weeks of you almost feeling your soulmate but not.

To be quite frank, you never thought you'd be one of those people. You know, the ones who become obsessed — to the point of borderline insanity — over their soulmates. Ergo Nathan. Okay, maybe you're still holding a slight grudge against him but it's not like you're a saint. Or want to be. And it's not like you want to relentlessly think about your soulmate, but for the life of you, your brain seems adamant on not listening to any of your demands.

Like right now, as you filter through the orders of the day. Working at the only on-campus coffee shop/bakery was quickly proving itself to be a bad decision. You work the late evening shift and half the time it was scarce, a big difference compared to most afternoons where orders were constantly flooding in.

The only downside of not having enough orders to occupy your body was that your mind was consistently straying away from the present. Weaving vivid descriptions of your soulmate. How tall would they be? How loud did they laugh? What kind of things did they do for fun? You're so far gone in your thoughts that you don't realize a new group of customers have walked into the store. In fact, you don't return to the present until one of them, a lean and tall yellow-haired boy, clears his throat loudly.

Your shoulders jump back, startled. It's a group of six boys all in white baseball uniforms and even though you consider yourself pretty tall, they tower over your height as they make their way to the back of the store where the speakers are located. They barely give you any attention, instead, they leave Blondie to handle their orders.

The blonde boy who winks at you, like maybe you're taken aback by his admittedly unabashed beauty and not the intrusion of your personal space. You manage to awkwardly offer him a smile, your eyes scanning the pack that has now settled in a corner booth.

Usually, you worked your shift alongside Yuri, a Nursing major, but due to unforeseen circumstances, she had to check out early. Yuri was the one that dealt with the jocks, for a lack of a better term. Not that you had anything against the athletics department, you'd just rather not put yourself in a situation to interact with them. Your view on them may have been slightly tainted due to experiences in high school. But life was all about moments, you tell yourself, and right now you're trying to get past the faint lingering smell of sweat and dirt.

"What can I get for you today?" You try to put a pep in your voice but it falls flat.

"Can I have, uh, you?" he replies with an unexpected grin on his face. Like he knows how cringe and unreasonable he's being but is engaging you in his humor. You roll your eyes at him.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that and spare both of us the embarrassment, okay?" You say, not really expecting an answer from him but still offering him a cocky smile regardless. The store is CCTV protected and your manager will bust a vein if he found you being slightly ominous to any customer, even if you had a right to it. "Is there anything else you and your buddies want to order this fine evening?"

He doesn't seem at all fazed by the sarcasm dripping from your voice, if anything, his cheeks expand even more. "I like you; you're funny." Blondie casually remarks before he narrates his and his teammates' orders. He gets through five orders before he draws a blank, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he turns around and gets the attention of his friends.

"Jinyoung, what’s the order for today?"

Your eyes follow to where the other boys are situated and fall on the boy in question. A dark baseball cap sitting on his head, his eyes tear away from his phone and focus on Blondie and you. His voice comes out low and serene but at the same time loud enough to travel the path to your ears. You fumble a little with ringing up the total and Blondie snickers when you finally hand him the receipt. He sends you another wink, this time more playful than flirty before he makes his way over to his friends.

As you work your way through the requests, you wonder what's up with your luck these days. First, you get the scare of your lifetime by being thrown into a baseball game mid-pitch and now you're coming face to face with a pack of baseball players. Just your luck that the only name you can remember from the snippet is Park Jinyoung.

You found out over the course of the past two weeks, that Park and Jinyoung were among common names that came in the same package. Or at least common enough for you to be in class with four other namesakes. The only reassurance you had was that you were positive that if you ever came in contact with the Jinyoung from back then, you would know.

You also know not to get your hopes up. There probably is more than one Jinyoung in your university's baseball team. Moreover, you're not sure which baseball team your soulmate even plays for. It could be the university a few towns over, it could be pro-league... in fact now that you really thought about it, it could be any team on the planet. Well, aren't you fucked? You think to yourself solemnly.

You're so distracted by your thoughts that you almost burn your hand under hot water, but even then, your thoughts don't stop twisting and turning around in your head.

It takes longer than usual but once you complete their full order, you look up to grab the attention of Blondie but you're met with Jinyoung's intent gaze instead. It's not quite daunting but at the same time, it doesn't put your heart at ease. Head cocked to the side and his lower lip threatening to crack between his teeth; he looks like he's desperately trying to glue pieces of something together.

You raise your hand to wave him over and in an instant, he's standing to his full height and walking over to you. You'd naively thought that he would've sent Blondie to do the deed instead, this Jinyoung didn't strike you as someone that liked communicating with people unless he absolutely had to. You guessed wrong.

He takes long strides to the cashier and you try not to stare as he does so but your eyes have other plans. He has a boyish yet manly vibe to him, and even though he looks stoic in appearance, now that he's come close, you can see how his eyes differ. They hold something akin to warmth and you find yourself staring into them longer than necessary. Today just isn't your day, you tell yourself to justify how weird you've been acting. You do not ogle boys in the cafe. You simply don't.

"Thanks," he says, grabbing two of the trays. "I hope Yugyeom didn't weird you out? He does that a lot... sorry."

Not expecting him to apologize for his friends' antics, words die in your throat but you force a chuckle out of your lips at best, you refuse to be on the same level as a mannequin.

Jinyoung nods his head as if your laughter is a good enough response. The corners of his lips tilt up before he's hauling his way back to his pack and you finally let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Christ, since when did you get so weak? It wasn't like this was the first attractive person you'd ever met. Get it together! Your soulmate was out there. Probably a few thousand miles away, but out there nonetheless!

You flip your notepad to a new blank page and proceed to doodle on it. Little trees sprouting from the corners and swirling lines outlining the borders but soon enough you find yourself lettering Park Jinyoung along with those as well. You don't even know if this name belongs to your soulmate. You're relying on trial and error and now that you're thinking about Jinyoung, your eyes flick up and lock in on him.

You wonder if he's your soulmate. Probably not, but you wonder regardless. How would you know? It's not like the heavens are going to split open and a white dove will appear above his head. He isn't Jesus, you reckon, and you aren't either. You're about to disregard thoughts of him from your mind when you feel a familiar sensation wash over you.

Gripping the corners of the table you try to anchor yourself. It's a futile attempt because in an instant you lose your sight and by the time you regain it, you already know you've parted with your body.

The chatter is annoyingly loud, most likely because you've been thrown in the midst of it. To your sides sit boys on a baseball team. You're not as surprised as you ought to be when your vision connects with Blondie — Yugyeom. He's making a joke about hitting a home run and one of them, the loudest besides Yugyeom, laughs maniacally at that.

Your body freezes up as your eyes drift over and count how many of the boys you can see. Five. Five and none of them are Jinyoung. You can tell someone is drilling holes into you; desperate to grab your attention so you quickly raise your head. Well, if you're being technical, it's not your head. But that's easily understandable.

It's weird and honestly terrifying to see your own body looking at you. Not the same as looking at yourself in a mirror but not completely different either. Eyes wide and a tad bit glassy stare back at you in shock. A shock that you're sure is mirrored in your borrowed pair of eyes. You sit there staring at each other for what seems like hours until you're dragged out of your reverie by one of the boys tapping your shoulder.

"How do you feel about sporks?"

"Huh?" Your voice comes out deeper than you know and it shakes you to your core.

"Dude," the black-haired boy with a perpetual smile on his face, rolls his eyes. "Aren't you listening? Sporks, you know those things that double as forks and spoons?"

One of his friends rubs his hands against his face as he sighs out, exasperatedly. "Sporks are not a thing, Jackson. Jesus Christ, no one calls them that."

Jackson seems highly offended by the statement. "What do you mean? Everyone calls them that! You're so —"

You don't get to hear the ending of his rant. Jackson and the loudness of the table fade to distant chatter in an instant as you return to your rightful place. Damn, you don't think you'll ever get used to this. What are you supposed to do now? You'd thought finding your soulmate will automatically put things in perspective. But right now, as you barely stand at the back of the cashier and peer over at him, you can confidently say that nothing makes any sense.

It's not like you can walk up to him and demand the two of you run into the sunset together. Okay maybe that's a little extreme but that's pretty much what Nathan did if your memory serves you correctly. You can't really do much with this situation, truly. You don't want to introduce yourself to him in front of his teammates, imagining the looks on their faces already did the honors of turning your feet cold.

"Ah," you sigh out to yourself.

Maybe you should sneak him your phone number? No, no, no! Abort! Your brain waves a red flag. Not only is that the cliché of clichés, you are assertive the napkin will find its end in a nearby dumpster and not his contact list like you want.

You nibble on your bottom lip, deep in thought. None of the stories that you'd read prepared you for this moment. They'd all ended with the two soulmates [tearfully] acknowledging each other. Bells ringing in the distance and love blooming in their eyes. You snort. What a fucking joke. This is awkward. Awkward as fucking hell. And you have no idea how you are supposed to break the ice. Perhaps ask him about his take on sporks?

Maybe you should just wing it? And see how it goes? If the stars are bent on putting the two of you together, it shouldn't matter if you embarrass yourself a few times... right? Before you come to a conclusion on the matter, you hear scraping of seats and the thudding sounds of sneakers hitting the floor as the one group you've been avoiding eye contact with, gets up and begins trudging out.

"See you around sweetheart," Blondie calls out, winking as he does. "Maybe next time I'll win you over with my amazing skills?"

No, you think, but you're too distracted with trying to discreetly watch Jinyoung as his friends drag him out. He seems out of place, his body being pushed against his will. He looks at you like he wants to say something but then decides against it. You open your mouth to... call out to him? You're not sure. But you end up closing your mouth remorsefully, as the door to the store swings shut.

Well, there goes chance number one. If your luck was anything to go by, you probably wouldn't meet him again for weeks. You could always religiously jog past the baseball teams’ practice field but you figure that will turn out really creepy really fast.

Busying yourself with your closing routine, you quickly buzz through wiping tables and accounting everything for what they're worth. In the back of your mind though, you think about Jinyoung. How he looks without that cap shadowing his face. If he ever won that game. If he has any idea how the two of you are supposed to connect. If he can honestly feel the low strumming of wires been set ablaze under your skin, or maybe it's just you.

Once you've finished everything that needs to be done in the store, you lock up and make your way out of the university center. The time on your watch reads 10:12 and you wonder if you'll be able to make the last bus to your dorm across campus. Your boots crunch dirt under your path and you tighten your hoodie closer to your skin. It's awfully cold for April but you don't question the weather.

The weirdest thing you've come to understand about the soulmate euphoria is that no matter how life-altering or intense a feeling like that continues on for, so long as it happens within the constraints of your mind, nobody else knows.

Your skin might sheen over with sweat, your mind buzzing with incoherent words but nobody else in the world knows what's going on and sometimes not even you.

"Are you following me?" Your voice comes out tentative because what if you're wrong? Oh, the embarrassment.

There's a ruffle somewhere behind you and then a pair of white shoes come to a halt beside you. Two forceful coughs later comes out his reply.

"I wasn't following you, honest. I was looking at the moon."

"Why do I feel like you're lying?"

He shrugs, not bothered. "Do you usually accuse everyone you meet? Or is this a thing reserved for me?"

You decide to not answer. Instead, you pick up the pace and continue the walk to the bus stop. In five minutes the bus is going to vamoose out and you're going to be left with no other option than walking back home. It wasn't the worst, but it certainly wasn't the best or fastest.

It doesn't take him that much effort to catch up to you. In fact, you're afraid he barely has to huff out a breath to reach you.

"Hey, wait. Are you ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?"

You steel yourself from sparing him a glance. "No, it's not you per se. But the bus waits for no one and I hate walking."

"Really? I like walking. Feels good. Also, you use the bus?"

"You do play baseball, it'll be more of a shocker if you didn't." You say finally looking at him. Nervous energy emits from him, his fingers wringing around one another repeatedly. "Cars are expensive and well, buses are cool... kinda."

There's no plausible reason why the two of you are engaging in this conversation other than the fact that you're both trying to break the ice.

"So," you make an attempt, the butterflies in your stomach making house. "Do you usually come to the cafe? I've never seen you there before."

He shakes his head. "First time. I lost a bet and Yugyeom wouldn't stand for me chickening out."

"What, you're too good for coffee or something?" You hope there's a joking tint in your voice because you're not being snobby, you're trying to joke around. Oh God, no one ever prepared you for this.

Luckily, he understands and he laughs aloud. Your heart calms down at this, you feel strangely accomplished.

"I hate coffee but since I lost, I didn't really have a say."

"What bet did you lose?"

He bites his tongue in uncertainty and you wonder if it was okay for you to ask. The two of you haven't even exchanged names and you're already prying. You feel your body heating up, for more reasons than one.   You're ready to tell him that it doesn't matter when he says:

"I got struck out by the pitcher in my last game. I told the guys that I was gonna hit a home run but uh, you know that thing happened and..." his voice trails off.

You add two and two together, not like it was any hard. You had totally missed that swing that time. Damn, as if it wasn't enough that you'd went and lost, you'd also helped him lose a bet? This soulmate thing was supposed to be o' so rosy and beautiful, wasn't it? You are beyond mortified and the only thing saving you is that you've arrived at the bus stop.

However, the last bus is nowhere to be seen and your heart sinks into your chest as you turn around to face Jinyoung.

"I'm so sorry,” you focus your eyes on his nose. “I really thought I had that. Is there a way I can make it up to you?"

He waves away your apology with his hand. "It's no big deal. I mean it's not like either of us had it coming, plus you must have been terrified. That guy has one of the fastest pitches in the bracket. I was surprised I didn't walk out with a black eye."

"That bad?"

Jinyoung nods solemnly but the light in his eyes eases the elephant stomping on your chest. "Don't sweat it. Anyways," he takes a look around. "I don't think your bus is still here."

He is right. Just thinking about the ten-minute walk to your dorm is enough to put a damper on your mood. It sucks but it's what you get for being so absentminded all day. One good thing came from this though... and he was standing right in front you.

"Seems like I'll be walking. How about you? Are you heading straight?" Even though you want to continue talking to him [you feel like you could listen to his voice for forever], you know better than to push your luck with these things.

"Yeah. You?" He asks as he readjusts the strap of his Nike duffel bag on his shoulder. It looks ridiculously heavy and you wonder what's inside it.

Fate, you guess, is having a field day. You nod your head in agreement, allowing your hair cascade around your face in a bid to hide how giddy your feeling. The awkwardness is still there but something more is pushing it to the back of your mind until it lies dormant. You want to enjoy this feeling. The fact that Jinyoung hasn't gone running the opposite direction is enough faith to have you willing to test this whole soulmate thing out.

The two of you, without much words, fall into step next to each other on the way to your respective destinations. You play a game of kicking the stray stones on your path, playing footsie with yourself. You bite your lower lip, asking your inner gods for strength.

"So," you start a new conversation. "How long have you been playing baseball?"

"Since I was ten," Jinyoung replies as he raises his cap and runs a hand through his inky black hair. You're in awe at how chiseled his face looks. Beyond what you are expecting but you're not exactly complaining. "Twelve years." There's unabashed pride in his voice.

"Ooh," you clap your hands together in astonishment.

He takes a mock bow and you laugh at him. He's actually pretty cute now that you think about it. At first, you had been intimidated by how intense he looked at you but as the moments' tick on you're beginning to warm up to him or maybe he is warming up to you? Either way, you're finding it harder and harder to contain the heat seeping through your body and you're sure he can tell the effect he's having on you.

"How about you? Do you play any sports?"

You clear your throat. "Well, of course. I'm exceptionally skilled in the arts of procrastinating and crying about said procrastinated work when I accidentally miss a deadline. I'm self-taught and a professional."

Jinyoung's laughter lifts weights from your chest and frankly, you're surprised when he doubles over, clutching his sides. You like him already. Anyone that can put up with your lame jokes is a keeper in your books. You don't mean to compare but Nathan had never once cracked a smile at them. Okay so maybe you do want to compare, Nathan can suck it.

"Tell me more about this sport of yours," he says after he has regained his breath and his chest isn't threatening to explode.

"It usually ends in regret and soon after that I'll vouch to never procrastinate again but as expected, I never listen."

He chuckles lightly at that but lets the conversation die. This time the silence is comfortable and you don't feel the need to fill it with words. However, you do want to ask him for his phone number and maybe if you're daring enough, ask him to hang out tomorrow after your shift; to get to know him better. It's one thing finding your soulmate, it's another actually bonding with them. You wonder if he's thinking along the same lines as you are or if he's a go-with-the-flow kinda person.

Before you know it, you've arrived at the front steps of your dorm. Lone college students stream out of it, probably on their way to a frat party or maybe they enjoy the cool night air? Who knows. You turn your gaze back to Jinyoung, steeling your resolve. If you don't ask him now for his contact then when? Unless he drops by the cafe sometime later or if you indulge in perpetually jogging around the baseball's practice field in hopes of seeing him again, you doubt the universe is going to give you another chance.

"Do you mind if —" you begin just as Jinyoung says, "Should we exchange —"

Your lips lean upwards and you do nothing to stop the laughter bubbling up from your ribs. You motion for him to say his words first and you snort [internally] as you watch him fiddle with his mobile phone, nervous.

He clears his throat. "Should we, uh, exchange numbers or something? Only if you want though."

Instead of answering him directly, you reach into your back pocket and produce your mobile device and hand it to him. As he swaps his phone with yours, your fingers brush against each other and you swear you can feel your nerves expand and burst... if that's even possible.

The pair of you make quick work with inputting your data and you're about to hand him his phone back when you see him raise your phone to his eye-level and take a picture. Ah, profiles. You filter back to edit your contact and do the same. The lighting is bad and your hair is a mess but your smile is bright. Brighter than you imagined. And after fruitless attempts to rein it in, you hand Jinyoung his phone in optimistic silence.

He takes one glance at your saved contact before he stuffs his phone in his pocket. "You can call me whenever you want... Even if you don't have a reason to."

"Okay," you say. "You too. Maybe we can meet up sometime?"

"Sounds like a plan."

You're about to head up the steps and fly to your room when you finally remember that you haven't introduced yourself to him yet. You whip your head back and push a palm out. "I'm [y/n], by the way."

He gives you a lopsided smile that kind of melts your insides as he grabs your hand, his wrapping yours in its entirety.

"Jinyoung."

It feels like the two of you have created a pact. You're definitely attracted to him and to God you hope this soulmate system is actually something to swear by. But if the butterflies in your stomach are anything to go by, this — whatever it is — is something good. You manage to utter a goodbye before you're dashing up to your room, afraid to turn back because you know he'll be able to tell that you're three steps away from falling headfirst over him.

Althea and BamBam are the first things on your mind. Right now you just want to scream out in joy. And even though three is a crowd, three is also company. Company that you’re sure will lose their shit along with you by these turn of events.

You're almost in the safety of your room, already pulling open Snapchat when your phone chimes with a new message.

Park Jinyoung >-< » by the way, I got tongue tied earlier [10:42 pm]

Park Jinyoung >-< » but you are so very cute, my god [10:42 pm]

A/N: woo! i hope people like this and tell me what they think. thank you very much for reading!

⇢ masterlist

©️ 2017 kai, moonbelt [aka high-on-food]

#princejinyoungday #got7 #jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung imagines #kpoptrashtag #got7snet #bang7net #kreativewritersnet #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 jinyoung #jinyoung park #jinyoung park scenarios #got7 fake texts #jinyoung texts #jinyoung smut #jinyoung fluff #got7 fluff #got7 smut #got7 angst #got7 meme #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop texts #jinyoung scenario #high-on-food #kpop angst #boyfriend!jinyoung #soulmate au

[corvid-knight]

Demon Eyes - chapter 8

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740258/chapters/31885545

The "something" that Jake was working on turns out to be a full-out tarot spread, you find as you follow Dirk into the kitchen, Karkat and John a few steps behind. Most of the kitchen table is covered in carefully-laid-out cards, an arrangement that's more complicated than any of the ones you know. Then again, the subset of tarot spreads that you know only includes one or two; Bro stopped trying to get you to learn when he figured out that your predictions lacked the weird clarity that Jake's have always had.

When you come in, Jake's perched on a stool that's too high for the table, a thoughtful look on his face as he examines the complicated patterns he's created. He only looks up when Dirk puts a hand on his shoulder, glancing between Karkat and you for a second before a grin spreads across his face.

"There we are." He slides off the stool, tapping the card at the center before stepping over to give you a quick, much-less-stressful half-hug. "You've certainly gone through the wringer, haven't you Davey? You and your demon both."

"He's not exactly my demon." Jake's still half a head shorter than you, you realize as he steps away to take one more look at his tarot spread. Nice—you're not totally surrounded by guys who're taller than you. "His name's Karkat, by the way. I'm shit at intros, sorry."

"You're absolutely fine, don't worry!" He aims that bright smile at Karkat, who looks completely disconcerted at the hand that Jake holds out. "Jake English, at your service."

You seriously wonder if Karkat's going to accept the handshake or if you're going to end up privately prompting him. After a second, though, the demon grins (no sharp teeth, thankfully) and shakes Jake's hand, letting go as quickly as he can while still being polite. "I really fucking hope you don't say that to just any demon you work with."

"Oh gods no, I'm not as much of an idiot as this one—" a shove at Dirk's shoulder than pushes him a step closer to John and makes you want to tense up at the prospect of upcoming violence— "would have you believe. That'd be John."

"I'll kick your ass, English," John immediately offers. He slips behind Dirk as he says it, but the grin on his face reminds you that the probability of actual fighting here and now is really fucking low. "C'mon, come and get me—"

"Don't you dare start a fight in the kitchen." Okay, that voice is new. It's a lot like Dirk's (and a little like Bro's) but it's from behind you, where there shouldn't fucking be anyone—

You don't register your own movements until Karkat steps up next to you and slides a hand under your arm, pulling you out of the defensive crouch you've already fallen into. Shit, you're running your hands across your waistband, too, looking for a fucking weapon. One that's not there, thank god.

You're okay, Dave. Anyone who'd hurt you goes through me, and that's a lot fucking harder than it looks.

Without his steady voice in your mind, you probably wouldn't be able to just straighten up again, take a deep breath, and glance over at Dirk like you do.

Dirk just looks irritated and resigned. "Hal," he says with a calm that's probably deceptive, "get off the fucking fridge."

"Hmm...no."

You look up.

The guy perched on top of the refrigerator looks kind of like Dirk. The facial structure is the same, but this guy's as pale as you are, other than red tracery that looks like tattooed circuit lines running from his temples down the sides of his face. His hair's white instead of warm gold, shorter and spiky, exactly how Dirk wore his a couple years ago, and his eyes are the same red you're used to seeing in the mirror.

Karkat tilts his head to one side, considering the guy on the fridge. "Okay, I'll bite. What the fuck are you?"

"Hal Strider." He shifts slightly, still grinning down at you. You don't think you've ever seen someone look so pleased with themself in your life. "I'd offer to trade information, but I already know that you're Karkat and you're a demon, and the one that has a certain family resemblance to Dirk and I would be Dave, right?"

You realize that that was kind of directed at you, and nod. "Uh...dude, I have no fucking clue who you are, okay?"

"It'd be amazing if you did." Hal shrugs and shifts his weight, just jumping off the top of the fridge and landing on his feet with all the weightless grace of a cat. Standing, he somehow manages to look more and less like Dirk at the same time. "I didn't exist last time you were around."

"Still don't really understand here." You have to look over at Dirk for help. Before he can do more than open his mouth, Karkat reaches out to poke Hal's shoulder experimentally, which Hal allows with the same faint smile that seems to be his resting expression.

"It's a golem," he announces.

"He's a shikigami," Dirk corrects with a sigh, rubbing at his forehead. "Sort of."

You have no fucking clue what a shiki-whatever is. Karkat, however, evidently does, because he immediately points out, "Shikigami don't have self-awareness or willpower, and this thing obviously does, so..."

"Pronouns would be nice instead of just 'this thing.' I'll answer to any of them, although I rather like the sound of 'he' and 'they.'" Hal smiles sweetly at Karkat, tapping one finger against the circuit-marks along the sides of his face. "Also, you're absolutely right; shikigami don't have free will. Not when they're created from inert material and a driving force, anyway. However. If you add a harddrive containing a sentient AI—that would be me—"

The look of confused horror spreading across Karkat's face is actually a little comical. "You can't fucking do that."

Dirk groans and shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Dude, you have no idea how much I wish that was an accurate statement sometimes."

"Anyway," Hal continues, just slightly louder, "if you add a sentient AI to the mix, as per said AI's instructions—"

"We all know you came up with forty percent of the plan, give it a rest already." Dirk's grumble and eye-roll suggest that they've been over this territory already.

"Dave doesn't know, so shut the hell up. You add the AI, as per said AI's instructions so you don't fuck it up like the incompetent meatbag you are, and a few steps later you have me." Hal spreads his hands in a gesture you recognize as an echo of one of Dirk's, smiling wider. "One superbeing."

"One freak of nature," Dirk corrects.

Jake laughs and shoves very gently at your cousin, wrapping an arm around him. "You love him."

"You might love him. I certainly don't."

"He doesn't exactly have to love me if he doesn't want to." Hal shrugs, eyes fixed on you with an unblinking intensity that's more than a little disconcerting. "Brothers fight, don't they? Unless it gets to be a little more than scuffling, you don't need to worry about us, English. And it won't get that far, now will it?"

"Not unless you do something especially asinine."

"Oh, I don't intend to." He's speaking to Dirk, isn't he? So why the fuck does he have to look at you like that?

Stop. I'm being fucking paranoid.

Except you look away from Hal and Dirk's watching you too. Jake's more focused on Dirk, but his eyes slide towards you when you glance at him, and away again as soon as he meets your eyes. Doesn't want to stare at me. Fuck. John's talking to Karkat, but there's a pair of excited blue eyes fixed on you too, flicking back to the demon every few seconds—of course John wouldn't care about staring, he was always honest about shit even when we were kids—so upon that further examination, everyone's looking at you, and that's...

That's not how shit's supposed to be. This isn't supposed to happen to me, you think, and hate the panicked edge the thought has.

Dirk's saying something and you have zero ability to focus enough to listen to it. Which is just as fucking wrong as you being the center of attention, you're supposed to fucking listen to him, fucking listen to Bro—

"Dave." And, maybe because he can tell you're a little past verbal responses, Karkat switches to words that go straight into your head, private and silent and weirdly safe. Dave, you know you're safe right now, right? That fucker's not here. It's Dirk, not your Bro.

Fuck. Yeah. You know that. Can't fucking think, man. And you make a deliberate effort to let him feel what you're overwhelmed by—like you're the only one worth looking at in a crowd, because you fucked up—

Karkat growls, loud and startled and deep, and Jake lets go of Dirk, and now everybody—other than Hal, who's still watching you thoughtfully—is staring at the demon. Which is just as fucking bad because they're hunters and you know what hunters do—

"Jesus fuck," Karkat growls, shaking his head. "John, right? And Jake? You both want to ask me shit, right?" When he gets a definite nod from the former and a slightly less emphatic one from the latter, he continues, "Open season on questions, as in I'll answer anything you come up with for the next—" Dave, how long?

Fifteen minutes. It's a number you pull out of nowhere, but it feels right, and Karkat slots it into his sentence without any discernable pause.

"—fifteen minutes, so long as you ask it in a different fucking room." He crosses his arms and scowls at John. "Fair enough?"

John's expression suggests that the deal is more than fair, but he just nods, grabbing Jake's wrist and all but dragging him into the other room after Karkat. The door shuts, and you're left with just Dirk and Hal.

Where the fuck is Hal?

"Calm down." Dirk sighs when he sees you glancing around, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs and sitting down. "He's on the fucking fridge again."

"Oh." The shikigami grins at you when you look up at him. When did he even get back up there? "Is it even worth it to ask you why?"

"It's an excellent vantage point." Hal shrugs.

"Try, 'I'm an asshole,'" Dirk suggests.

"Well, I can't argue with that, but we all know who I'm modeled on, don't we?"

"You guys are always like this, aren't you." You don't make it a question, and you don't look at either of them to see if they nod. If they're still staring at you, you don't fucking want to know. Instead, you sit on Jake's stool—which feels wrong; it's too tall and too isolated, too obvious—but you made the choice to sit on it and now you're stuck with that choice—and look over his tarot spread, mentally naming the cards you recognize as a way of calming down a little.

This spread is a mess, really. He's using the major arcana and (you think) the four royalty cards from each suit, but you don't see numbered cards from anysuit. Despite that, you're pretty sure there's more than thirty cards on the table, and you see the Tower at least twice. Which means more than one deck.

What the hell.

Of the layout itself, you can tell that it's centered on three cards: Knight of Swords and Knight of Cups side by side, with the Lovers card laid over and half-obscuring both of them. Beyond that, you don't know enough about the order or layout to read, but those three cards make a hell of a lot of sense to you.

"Jake's been drawing those two when he tries to read for you, the past few days." Dirk leans over to tap first Cups, then Swords. "You, and Karkat."

That feels backwards, but going by the meanings of the cards it really isn't. "So he's been reading for me."

"I asked him to, yes." When you glance up at him you meet honey-orange eyes that're too fucking familiar for you to not wince. "Why, do you count that as spying?"

"Depends on what you learned from it." You don't count it as spying, not really, but you need to know what Dirk already knows so you don't reveal more than you have to.

What the hell am I even thinking? I don't have to hide shit, there's no consequences if he finds out things Bro didn't want known... Well, other than your discomfort, maybe. Not that that matters.

Dirk sits back, watching you. "Jake didn't finish telling me about this one, obviously. But when he went over your past he got abuse, willpower put to bad use, increasing domination—"

You know which cards he's talking about. Out of the corner of your eye, you can almost see them light up out of the spread on the table. "Strength and the Magician, both reversed. The Emperor." It makes you shiver. You know exactly what Jake read as the sum your past—or, more accurately, who. "Bro."

"I didn't know you knew the meanings so well."

"Yeah. Can't get an accurate read on anything, but I know the cards."

"Ah. The Moon came up in most of the spreads—"

"Deception." There's other meanings, but that's the one you fix on. It's hard to keep your hands from folding into fists again. "He was a fucking liar, so that's accurate."

Dirk tilts his head and you think of Karkat. Stupid. "You're angry at him."

More than you're ever going to know. "He's dead. So no, I'm not."

"...fair enough, I guess. I might be pissed enough for both of us."

He keeps his tone calm, and you still want to flinch at the words. You don't do that, but you do look down at the cards instead of at Dirk. "Not really a reason for that."

"Bullshit there isn't." The twist of emphasis he puts in that is savage enough that you look up at him, hoping he doesn't see the unpleasant jolt of fear he just sent through you. There's no anger on his face, at least. "I knew him. I hunted with him—not alone, D never let Bro take me out unless he was coming along, thank god—but I knew how he was, we all did."

"Yeah, no. You didn't." He was worse, trust me. The cards are interesting, maybe if you look at the layout just a little longer you can figure out how it works, and if you look at it you don't have to look at Dirk...

"Dave," he says quietly, and when you still don't look up at him he keeps talking. "You know why we didn't cut him off after he killed that girl?"

"She was a fucking were. She killed—"

"It wasn't about her. Him killing her was fucked up, both how he did it and that he did it at all—she was a kid, she killed a couple fucking horses in her first change and we should've paid for the damages and gotten her settled with a pack, not let him get his hands on her and torture her to death."

Shit. "He told me she killed someone. Not some fucking horses..."

"Lying bastard."

"Yeah." The fact that you just believed him is worse.

"You know why we didn't cut him off?"

"No."

"D wanted you back." When you look up in surprise, Dirk nods. "Yeah. The whole reason he never ran Bro down and made him answer for that shit was because they made a deal—that bastard got to leave, go wherever the fuck he wanted, so long as he left you with us. Except when I finally got ahold of him after that last fight, he said you took the money he'd had on hand and took off. He said he didn't know where you went."

"I—" You almost did that, but not until a full year after when Dirk's talking about. The first time you woke up with Bro in bed with you, with your head fuzzy from the alcohol he'd bullied you into drinking the night before and your shoulder aching where his teeth had drawn blood, feeling more disgusting than you ever had in your life, you almost left him. Almost. But in the end? "I'd never. I couldn't."

"Yeah. I was an idiot to believe him, I know. I'm sorry, Dave—"

"Don't!" Fuck. That was louder than you should've let it be, and you can sense rather than see Hal shift slightly on top of the fridge—getting ready to attack you if he has to, to protect Dirk? You don't know. "Don't apologize for that shit, don't fucking do it, it doesn't help, it makes things worse—"

You look at him again and you can't fucking see him clearly—no, tears, not that, I can't fucking cry, I can't, I—

Karkat, please—

Something shifts. Something twists. Something in the center of your mind changes, and it's been changing for a while, hasn't it? Since the first time you felt the tingle of wards as you passed through them, before everything started. But this time you feel it adjust itself to what you need, just a little more, and it's terrifying to feel that but it's so, so relieving, because you feel him. You feel Karkat, and when you blink your eyes are clear again.

Unfortunately, it's John that you're looking at. Not Dirk. Holy shit, you try to say, but instead of that you feel your mouth shape the words, "Dave, what—" and it's his deeper voice that you feel in your throat.

No. His throat.

Too much, you think, or maybe he thinks it, but it's true either way. Too fucking much, go back, make it stop—

You're not sure whether it's you or Karkat who triggers the flip back. It doesn't really matter. You blink again and you're staring at the kitchen tile, which is a hell of a lot closer than before because you're on your hands and knees on the floor. The stool's overturned, knocked halfway across the room, and Dirk's kneeling next to you with one hand on your shoulder.

"Dave?" he asks, then, more hesitantly, "...Karkat?"

"Right the first time." Sitting up is hard, but you instinctively push Dirk away when he tries to support you. "Don't—don't touch me. For a sec. I need—" Karkat.

"Your eyes—"

"What?" Because you need Dirk to see that you're you, your eyes aren't the changing red of the demon's, you force yourself to look at him. Just for a second. Long enough to catalogue the confused concern on his face. Then you just close your eyes, cut off sensory input from that quarter.

"Did he possess you?"

"No! I—" I'm so fucked. Hunters don't do this shit. I'm a hunter, I can't do—whatever that was. "I. I possessed him? Dirk, I don't know—"

You bite down on your lip, hard enough to taste blood, before that last word can turn into the panicked wail it really wants to be.

"Dave, it's okay—" Dirk begins, and abruptly stops as the door slams open again. "Karkat, what the hell—"

"Don't you fucking block me from him," Karkat snarls, and you think you cringe.

Please don't hurt him, don't fucking hurt him, please—

"No one's getting hurt, Dave. I swear to you." Dirk's hand leaves your shoulder, and Karkat's replace it, one resting on each shoulder and giving you a comforting sensation of presence, for a moment, before he moves them up to press against your temples. "Open your eyes."

"No—"

"Just for a second, okay? You just did something that should be really fucking difficult for a human, I need to make sure you're okay. Just a second and then you can do whatever you want." Karkat's voice is gentle and coaxing again, nothing like how he snarled at Dirk a moment ago. It's all right, Dave, I swear. Just look at me.

I'll cry, you warn him.

"Yeah. I know. That's okay."

You open your eyes. Thankfully—and somewhat surprisingly—your vision's only a little blurry; you can see Karkat's face fine. Dirk's sitting just being him, arms crossed and expression purposefully blank and unreadable.

"I'm okay," you say to both of them. That's not even kind of true.

"Shush." Karkat's thumb strokes across your cheek. It's a stupidly reassuring sensation. "You can close your eyes if you need to now. Nothing's fucked up structurally..."

You shut your eyes immediately when he says that, trying not to shake as you start thinking about how this looks. I did something. Something magic, the kind hunters don't use. With a demon. I'm so fucking screwed, this isn't—

"Dave. Dave, shush. Come here." His hands leave your face and you nearly panic enough to open your eyes. Then he slips an arm around your shoulders, pulls gently enough that you could definitely get away if you wanted.

Instead, you lean into him. We're fucked.

"We're not fucked. Dirk, tell him."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be telling him," Dirk protests.

There's a very soft noise that you can't quite identity from behind you, and someone else's hand brushes against your hair. "Want me to do the talking, brother dearest?" Hal asks calmly. "I actually have some kind of handle on the situation here, which you don't."

"If you upset him more I'm kicking your ass."

"Fair enough. Dave?"

Words. Gotta have words. "Yeah."

"The talented are welcome here. Do you understand that? I can't tell what sort you are, but I can see the empath link between you and Karkat, and I'm assuming there's more—"

"No."

"Ah. There might be later, or maybe not. But that's an asset, do you understand?"

"It's not a fucking hunter thing—"

"Dirk's something between an artificer and a technomancer. Jake's a diviner, possibly one of the best alive. Rose—you remember Rose, don't you?—she's a witch, engaged to a vampire." Hal's hand rests against your shoulder again and just as quickly withdraws. "And you already heard what I am."

"We're not like him." This from Dirk again; when you cautiously open your eyes, he's sitting back on his heels in front of you. "Maybe he told you hunters were fucking bigots, but that's not fucking true."

"...yeah." Karkat?

"Yes?"

Tell 'em I believe them. Can't talk. Mostly because you really are crying now.

"You don't have to, don't worry."

He starts relaying not what you thought at him, but what you mean, and you relax against him, close your eyes again, and really start to calm down.

#demon eyes

[stardust-lightning]

Starchild: Dream Maker Chapter 5 - A Cream-Colored Envelope

Okay, so now I understand the Dreamscape a little bit better. It’s still raining outside softly and there’s not much happening. It’s not a bad thing though, it’s peaceful…

It’s still raining outside on the covered balcony, softly falling on the terracotta roofs. Zero is holding onto my index finger with a small, soft smile on his face. The entire atmosphere is really serene and peaceful, which is comforting considering that this dream journey can go crazy at any given moment so I want to take in all peaceful moments as much as I can. Even though we sit in silence, silence is golden as we just take in the cool evening air to relax. It’s great.

Our moment is interrupted by some yells and screams heard downstairs. Even the older gentleman with his guitar turned his glance into the stairwell.

“What’s wrong?” Zero asks, really worried.

“No sé, los niños.” The older gentleman rises from his seat and looks down the stairwell, his guitar held tightly in his hand.

“What did he say?” Zero asks, not familiar with Spanish.

“He says he doesn’t know.” I tell him.

We hear a glass bottle smash against a wall. The older gentleman rushes down the stairs with his guitar in his hands, ready to swing and fight whatever is going on in the lower floor.

“¡DETENER ESTA TONTERÍA!” He yells downstairs and proceeds to yell in inaudible Spanish.

Walking closer to the top of the stairwell, Zero hides behind me, cowering in fear as I brace myself, holding my sketchbook as my only weapon. We both walk carefully as the noise of the commotion grows louder. At the base of the stairwell, we come in time just as we watch two people engage in a full-blown fist fight as the men surrounding them were trying to split the two brawlers apart. The two fighting individuals, a Latino-looking human and a mint-green skinned individual with a body-builder’s stature and wild silver hair, are finally dragged apart to reveal their bloody faces and no doubt broken bones. I manage to catch a glimpse at the mint-green guy’s face and find that his eyes are completely pitch-black.  Zero and I then watch as the mint-green body-builder and his company leave in a huff into the pouring rain, which at this point has started to grow heavier. The noise level of the crowd in the tavern is filled with shock and confusion at the events that have just unfolded.

“What happened?” I tap a little girl, who looks about eight, on the shoulder.

“The verde man started giving ol’ Señor Matías crap, tryin’ to ruffle his feathers. It eventually lead to the verde man pushing Señor Matías around and then the two starting throwin’ hooks. He looks like he enjoyed it, even if he got his butt kicked.”

“Gotcha. Gracias.” I thank her.

“Don’t worry about him, chicos. He’s an alborotador.” The older gentleman with the guitar spoke up next to us in English.

“A troublemaker, eh?”

“Me llamo Santiago. This is mi hija, Elena.” The older man addresses himself and his daughter, the young girl who spoke to us earlier.

“Me llamo Airika y Zero.” I introduce myself and Zero. I knew just enough Spanish to communicate normally with other people. Elena and her father then lead us to an empty booth in the back corner. The candle burning on the blue fat bottle flickers as we take a seat.

“Did ya see that guy? He looked muy loco. I mean, he had those piercing ojos to him. He even had this malo aura around him. Tan extraño…”

“Wait, a malo aura?”

“Malo means bad.”

“Yeah, it gave him a bit of an edge,y’know?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Zero turn pale.

“Don't over-exaggerate, Elena. He was just a mischievous diablo, nothing serious.”

“He was loco though...”

“Who was that guy?” I pipe, seeing an opportunity to speak.

“I dunno, but he was quite the character. His eyes were negro.”

“He’s one of the Eronos.”

“Eronos?”

“A street gang that has gotten really popular lately. I wouldn’t mess with them if I were you. Now that I think about it, a lot of nasties have been prowlin’ around lately...”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

“La taberna is about to close.”

“Already?”

“Sí. One last thing.”

“Yes?” Zero and I responded together.

“You two aren’t from around here, are you?”

“N-No, sir. Why do you ask?”

“My apologies, but I could help but listen to your conversation upstairs” Santiago lowered his voice, “Are you the Dreamlord’s apprentice and the Mortal?”

“We are.”

“Let me see your hand.” Santiago asked to Zero. Zero gave him his right hand without question. Santiago looked at the palm of hand studying it.

“You are indeed who you say you are. I can see your blood running through your veins, along with the magic of your ancestors. As for the Mortal, she needs no explanation; her aura is enough. Now I own this tavern here. If you wish, and I insist, there are some guest rooms upstairs. With people like you, you can get hurt or worse if they knew who you two were. I don't want to risk seeing you in trouble. Stay here tonight.” Santiago explained.

“It's not a bother?”

“We’ve taken in guests all the time. It's not a hassle!” Alena chimes in.

“What do you think, Zero?”

“If it's okay with you, Airika.”

“Don't worry about the charge. There’s no fee because you two have a lot more to worry about.”

“Oh thank you!”

“Come now chicos. Better get some sleep while you can.”

“Wait, how do you know who we are, besides the conversation?”

“I was met by an older Japanese shaman who told me to look out for you two. She wanted me to give you this message.” Santiago explained as he gives Zero a tiny cream-colored envelope with an ocean-blue seal with a strange symbol engraved in it.

“Older Japanese shaman…?”

“Oh! He’s talking about the Celestial Gatekeeper Rhiannye!”

“Sí, she's the one. Go ahead and get some rest. Alena will lead the way.”

--------An hour later--------

We settled into a small room upstairs with only one bed, a dresser and a window with stained-glass shutters. I don't know about Zero, but I don't have a problem sleeping with someone else, regardless of gender. I set my sketchbook on the dresser near the window. We then started to take our jackets and shoes off. I look over at Zero, who is facing the wall and not saying anything.

I start to see dark blue lines on his back through his thin, white shirt that resemble closed wings and they're glowing.

I try to strike up a conversation to keep me from staring at the tattoo on his back. Zero sets his jacket and his shoes on the edge of the bed and takes up the cream-colored envelope, clutching it in his hands, staring at it.

“Y’know, this place here is a beautiful town, with the red roofs and the flowers all about in a gorgeous display of colors. I wouldn't mind staying here a while if we didn't have a deadline.”

Zero turns and sits in the bed and I see his face. He looks white as a sheet and ready to have an anxiety attack.

“What’s wrong? You look really anxious.”

“S-Sorry, what?”

“You look like you've seen a ghost. Something bothering you?”

“Y-Yeah…I-I can't stop thinking about it…”

“About what?”

“The Dreamscape…”

“Why?” I probe him, sitting next to him on the bed.

“I think there's something really wrong here. I know that this is my first time out here, but even I can tell when something's not right.

“For one thing, the Celestial Courtyard and the atmosphere surrounding it are never that dead silent. There are always people going to and fro the Courtyard.

“Second, Celestial Gatekeeper Rhiannye is never alone; there is always one or two other Gatekeepers in each Courtyard to help run things. The only time when one Gatekeeper is alone is when there’s something serious and they leave one behind to keep the Courtyard running.

“Third, when Alena and her father were talking about the mint-green guy, they kept talking about his eyes and his dark presence and how ones like him are poppin’ up lately.”

“Why does his description bother you?”

“The eyes are one of the ways you can tell a Nightmare Spirit from a normal person. I keep getting a feeling that mint-green guy was a Nightmare Spirit.”

“Well, we’ll never know 'cause we weren't there, though you're not the only one with that gut feeling,” I try to reassure him, “What's inside the envelope?”

“I don't know…”

Zero breaks the seal and holds his breath. I look over his shoulder as he takes out the letter. The text is written in Enochian, I knew that much.

“What does it say?”

“Here goes.”

To Zero and Mortal Airika,

Listen to me very carefully: Be on your guard at all times. It has been discovered that some Nightmare Spirits have escaped into the Dreamscape. They may be already among you. When this became known, a horrific discovery was found: the Seven Elders are missing from Plasmatio.

“W-WHAT!?!?”

“Is there more!?”

Diávolos has regained his strength since his last attempt at controlling the Dreamscape and has risen again with his demonic armies. The Seven Elders are in the possession of Diávolos and his Nightmare Spirits, using their power to destroy and wreak havoc in the Dreamscape. Should this continue, the Dreamscape will crumble much faster that it already has and eventually cease to exist. The vessels that keep Dreams, Memories and Thoughts contained will be broken and they will dissipate into nothing. If the Dreamscape collapses, Zero, the fabric of your being and everyone else here will be erased from existence. As for you, Airika, you will never come back to reality for you will instead float in limbo-like purgatory for the rest of your existence. 

In order to prevent this tragedy, you two must find the Seven Elders before the Dreamscape crumbles at the heart. The souls of the Seven Elders are trapped in the bodies of the seven Archdemons Lucifer, Beelzebub, Abbadon, Mammon, Belphegor, Sathanus and Asmodeus. I have designated their locations on the map in Airika's sketchbook. I have been called to battle against these tyrants, so you may see me again.

Remember what I said: Be on your guard.

Gatekeeper Rhiannye

We try sleeping later after reading the letter, but it's very hard to when it feels like your heart is about to pop from beating so hard.

#Starchild #Dream Maker #my writing #Fifith chapter