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imagineabrighterworld · 3 years

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{Flowers} Midoriya x Reader

Summary// Soulmate!AU where everyone has different soulmate markers. Yours happens to be that flowers bloom where your soulmate gets injured. You just happen to be paired with the boy who breaks his bones daily.

Buds and small blossoms were the norm for you as a child. You would find yourself with little blooms on your palms or on your knees, your mother explaining that that meant your soulmate hurt themself. Maybe tripped or bumped into a table.

Your mom told you how the buds that bloomed on your cheeks meant someone was being mean.

As a teen you realize that the flowers on your body meant cruel things and cruel people.

"Hang on out there." You whisper to the flower on your shoulder, its soft petals tickling your skin. You wished you could talk to your soulmate through your skin like your mothers, how they could write on their skin and see the message on each other, or sing and hear the others voice like your uncle had with his wife. But you and your soulmate were connected by flowers.

What was going on in their life to have so many flowers? Sometimes you could feel phantom pains on your stomach as small bruise colored blossoms grew on your skin, or feel the sharp sting of a slap on your cheek the color of yellow daisies.

One day you're walking down the street when you bump into a green haired boy. You were in a good mood, lately there hadn't been new flowers on your body, which had to mean your soulmate was having a good week.

"Hi." You smile at the boy whose face immediately turns pink.

"H-Hi!" He stutters, his hand immediately going to the back of his neck. "Sorry for bumping into you, I should've been watching- not watching you! But watching out! You know- like how you walk and- and yeah.."

You chuckle. He was cute. Covered in freckles and with bright green eyes like the leaves of a tulip. "Don't worry about it." You hold out your hand and introduce yourself. "How about you?"

He shyly takes your hand. His grip is surprisingly stronger than you expected. "I'm Izuku Midoriya."

"Nice to meet you Midoriya." You smile and shake his hand firmly. "Guess I'll see you around."

"Y-Yeah." He smiles.

He smiles and for a moment the world slows to a stop.

You suck in a breath and hold onto your smile as you continue walking.

It's when you enter highschool that the flowers return.

You're in the middle of orientation when deep purple hellebores sprout from your finger. You flex your hand and feel the ghostly pains of a broken bone. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you listen to the droning of your homeroom teacher.

What happened to start the cycle again? Why was your soulmate hurting? Who was hurting them?

For the first weeks of school, you're stuck with that question as you do nightly checks. Your arms were constantly covered in flowers, and if you were capable of laughing at something so serious, you would debate selling bouquets with the flowers you were growing.

The day of the U.A. Sports Festival you sit between your moms and listen to the pro hero Present Mic as he introduces the classes.

Your mom cheers from your left. "We’ll get to see the first years that survived the villain attack!"

Your mother on your right chuckles. "You say it like it was planned darling, they're only kids. They're probably scarred."

Your moms debate the mental health of the 1-A first years as you watch the students from your spot in the stands. The blooms were getting better and had receded, showing your soulmate had healed which allowed you to focus on the games below.

But then a new set of questions popped up.

Would your soulmate be watching too? Were they interested in the sports festival? Were they quirkless? Did they have a quirk? Did they want to be a hero? You couldn't stop the questions that flowed freely in your mind.

You lean on your palm with your elbow resting on your knee. Your face lights up with surprise as you spot a familiar face in the crowd of students from Class A.

"Hey I know that boy!" You point to Midoriya and tug on your moms sleeves. A smile forms on your face. You didn't know he was going to U.A. but then again you never asked. You didn't think to ask.

"I never got his number though."

Your mother hums. "Too bad, he's cute."

Your mom pats your back. "You can try after the games are over."

During the first and second event, you keep your eyes glued to Midoriya. He was a good strategist. Even if he hadn't shown his quirk yet, you could see how skilled he was. It was a far cry from how you met him. Stuttering and shy. He was confident now, albeit a little emotional. He felt different to you.

"You can do it!" You whisper to yourself, your hands clenched as you see him step up to begin his match. You believed in him!

"Welcome to the first match of the finals tournament!"

From above you could see the student across from him begin to speak. Obviously you couldn't catch what was being said, but you had high hopes for Midoriya!

"Ready? Begin!"

Midoriya begins to run forward, but right as he nears the middle of the platform, he freezes in place and stays there. You feel a shiver run through your body as you watch him. Why was he staying still?

"The fight has just begun and Izuku Midoriya is completely frozen!"

The other boy’s lips start to move. Midoriya turns around and begins to walk back to his side of the ring.

No. He starts walking to get off of the platform.

“What is he doing?” Your mom mutters, “Silly boy, he's supposed to be heading the other way!”

Your mother murmurs in agreement. “Could it be his opponent’s quirk?”

You didn't quite care as you stood up from your spot and began yelling. “Come on Midoriya! You can do it! Don't give up!”

He was just a step away from the border of the platform when a giant blast of wind came from his hand. At that moment you felt the ghostly pains of your index and middle finger snap. Baby’s-breath grew from your fingers.

You look down at your hand in horror as the announcer screams over the intercom.

"What's this! Midoriya stopped just in time!"

Midoriya was an inch away from the platform, but all your focus was on the flowers that bloomed on your skin. Flowers in the same place as his injuries.

You sit back down, ignoring your mothers as they continue cheering when Midoriya goes back into action. You don't see what happens next, all you hear is that Midoriya won.

On went the battles, but your focus was on your hand and the flowers that slowly fell off as the broken fingers were healed.

When his next match came, you looked up from your stupor. He was fighting a boy who had so far sweeped his way through to the finals. A part of you wanted to cheer Midoriya on, knowing that his match would be a tough one, but the other part was reeling in horror at what would become of his body. He broke his bones using his quirk.

Day in and day out, you had seen flowers grow on you, and you never had a face to link them to.

Cuts, bruises, burns, broken bones.

All from him.

You don't watch his match, all you hear and feel is the shattering ice of his opponent and the flowers that burst from your skin in waves of color. First his fingers, then his arms.

The match ends, and you are left sitting with hydrangeas and hibiscus, poppies and peonies all littering your arms as if you were a living garden.

“Sweetie what happened?” Your mother finally asks from beside you, or maybe you just weren't listening before. “Could your soulmate be that boy- hey!”

You stand up and push your way through the crowds, running down the line of stairs and around the stadium. The students were in seats across from you, which meant they had to have an entrance nearby.

A door lay in front of you, blocked by several Pro Heroes. You transform into a butterfly, not caring about the pain that rattled through your body at shifting into such a small creature as you fly past their watch and enter the stadium reserved for the students.

You fly past doors marked as waiting rooms until you reach the recovery center.

The door was cracked open, and inside you could see him. He was bandaged up, his body covered in scratches and bruises.

You shift back into a human and slam your flower coated fists on a nearby table.

His eyes open and he straightens up on the recovery bed, wincing in pain when he moves his arms. His eyes were dull with pain, but they had the same light in them as when you had met him for the first time.

Did that light drive him to hurt himself so much?

“You again- how did you get in here?” He sits up properly.

Your eyes are full of tears as you look at his casts.

“You.” You wipe at your eyes, spreading pollen across your face. “I've been a living garden for fifteen years and all you have to say is how did you get in here?”

You can hear the confusion in his voice as he mumbles a small “I’m sorry?”.

Summoning a claw, you pierce the side of your neck and make a thin line.

From his neck, carnations bloom from his skin at the same site of your wound.

His eyes widen in realization.

You both stay silent until you let out a breathy laugh. Now he knew. Now the cogs were turning. You were always so careful to not get hurt to keep from scaring your soulmate, but did he ever put in the same care?

“We’re soulmates..” He whispers.

“For fifteen years.” You repeat silently. “For fifteen years, I’ve had sleepless nights, knowing you were being hurt. For fifteen years you gave me flowers. Looking at flower shops were so painful because they reminded me of you. I couldn't even stand being at my uncle’s wedding because the arrangements reminded me of your pain.”

“I’m-”

You hold up your hand. “Why do you hurt yourself so much? Why go through so much pain? This quirk.. Is it so important for you to become a hero if all you get out of it is pain?”

With blurred vision and eyes stinging from tears, you look at Midoriya who had a quiet look of contemplation on his face. It takes a beat before he looks you in the eyes.

“I want to become a hero that brings a smile to people’s faces. A hero you can rely on.” His Adam's apple bobs as he gulps. “A hero you can rely on. I never meant to make you cry. I'm sorry.”

You slump down to the floor. You hear him squeak and jump down from the bed, letting out a string of “ow’s” before crouching in front of you.

“Really, I’m sorry-”

You place a hand over his mouth and give him a stern look. “Just shut up.”

“Yes ma'am.” He mumbles from behind your hand, his face obscured by the flowers on your hand.

“Ma’am?” A small laugh threatens to escape you.

“I say things when I get nervous..”

Despite the weight of the emotions you had been carrying, you finally laugh.

He leans away from your hand, a blush on his cheeks as you hold you cover your own mouth to try and tame your laughter.

“So um.. Im free Sunday. If you want to talk about how this'll work..?” He questions meekly.

You wipe your eyes and smile. “I’d like that.”

Extra//

You hang upside down from a tree as you watch Midoriya train. He had come over for dinner but as you waited for your moms to finish cooking, you both took to the outside. He had looked to your training grounds in awe and quickly pleaded with you to try out the course.

“It’s my mother’s, not mine, go ahead.” And how could you deny his bright eyes and smile? The damned thing could light an entire city.

He was nearly drenched in sweat by the time he stopped his run through of the course and his small session of shadow boxing. He wipes away his sweat with the back of his hand and sits down under the tree where you hung like a bat.

“Nice huh?”

“Yeah. What does your mother do to have a space like this?”

“She's a hero. But she patrols the west region. She comes back every few weeks to visit us.”

He bonks you on the head as he looks up in amazement. “She's the Transformation Hero Mystique?!”

You quirk a brow. “Bingo. How'd you get that?”

“Lucky guess.” He mumbles sheepishly.

“You saw her hero costume didn’t you.” You ask bluntly.

He fiddles with his scarred fingers. “I may have taken a detour when I went to the bathroom..”

You turn your head and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Silly boy.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha izuku #bnha midoriya #bnha Izuku midoriya #bnha Midoriya x reader #boku no hero academia Midoriya x reader #mha #my hero academia #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha izuku #mha midoriya #mha Izuku midoriya #mha Midoriya x reader #my hero academia Midoriya x reader #- beta Zetzal

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dreamiguess · 3 years

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Day???: Coronation

A late submission for @fundyfiles FWT week.

Summary:

Some twisted, selfish part of him wants someone to walk in, to witness the first and last time he’ll be able to love Dream publicly, to cause such a scandal he’d be removed from the line of succession entirely.

On AO3: divine rights

“I shouldn’t have found out from your father.”

No. He shouldn’t have.

“Found out what?” Fundy lies, thin as silk and half as smooth.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” he answers, the ice in his voice melting. The disappointment is worse than the steel, and he feels as if he were to peel back another layer he would find nothing but raw hurt. Because it hurts, doesn’t it? For Fundy more than anyone else, maybe. Dream would come at a close second. He stares at the floor somewhere between them, not ready to face either.

“I didn’t know how.”

It’s a half answer to a question that wasn’t asked, tired and barely audible. He hadn’t known how to process it for himself either, with one sleepless night to churn the news in his head over and over again before preparations for the ceremony began. The work made it easier at least, kept him too busy to think or feel. But standing in front of the captain, his captain, in an empty hallway, there is nowhere to escape it. As the silence settles between them, he finds the courage to look up.

Dream looks vulnerable, too vulnerable to be out in the open like this. He wears only a half plate and sword belt, still more lethal than most would be in full iron but it looks unnatural for him to be patrolling the castle in anything but. It’s standard off duty garb, but it’s too fitting for him to still protect his heart at a time like this. He had pulled his mask to the side, and it’s more intimate than if he were completely naked, green eyes staring him down. They’re not angry, though, and he thinks that’s what breaks him.

“It was supposed to be Tommy.”

He’s in Dream’s embrace before the first tear can hit the ground, cries muffled in his shoulder before they can echo against the stone walls. It’s terribly improper, to be seen in the arms of a soldier, especially in such a public place. Some twisted, selfish part of him wants someone to walk in, to witness the first and last time he’ll be able to love Dream publicly, to cause such a scandal he’d be removed from the line of succession entirely. Even as the tears subsides he can’t bring himself to step back, just moves so the crown of his head is pushed into Dream’s chest instead of his face.

“It was supposed to be Tommy,” he repeats.

It was always supposed to be Tommy. On the surface level, he was a direct descendent rather than a grandson. But more than that, he was charismatic and loud, had strong opinions and voiced them frequently. He was loyal to a fault and way too sharp for his age. Most importantly, though, he wanted crown prince and, one day, the throne. Fundy wanted a street kid who climbed the ranks too swift and too violent.

With war brewing in the South, his Majesty was forced to choose the next successor far too early, and Tommy is still too young and brash for that weight to be placed upon his shoulders.

It haunts them. Laying in bed at dusk, a luxury they only allow themselves on the darkest halcyon nights, and tracing patterns down Dream’s back. He savors the moment, lets it melt in his ribcage and swallow him whole.

“What does this mean for us?” he asks, as if he wasn’t the one who should know better than anyone. They both know what he’s talking about, the glass shards lying on the floor for them in the morning.

“The end, probably.” Dream lifts his head enough to look Fundy in the eye. One would think he’d have forgotten how to hide his emotions after wearing a mask so long, but his face is as guarded as if he hadn’t taken it off at all. It’s a privilege, a blessing even, to see it at all and one he doesn’t take for granted. He venerates every scar and treasures each freckle, because he’s beautiful even if Dream himself cannot see it.

“You can’t marry below your station anymore.” He rolls to his back and sighs. “And if your uncles do not, you’ll be expected to produce an heir.”

Fundy can’t help but laugh.

“You really think they won’t?” he asks, disbelieving. It earns him a smile.

“Still. I have no noble blood.”

“Fuck the nobles.”

Like sin it follows them to the training grounds, dancing around it lest they reveal too much to the knights nearby. The entire family is expected to be military leaders in the event of conflict, and now doubly so for Fundy. Who better to practice with than their rising combat specialist?

“I’m on duty for the coronation,” he mentions over the clash of their practice swords. Fundy wants him to use steel, to put his life in the hands of his love and trust him fully and recklessly. The captain always refuses.

“I feel infinitely safer,” Fundy replies, pulling his weapon back and aiming for a slash to his side.

“I am honored to bring you peace of mind, your highness.” He blocks the attack and catches the blade with the hilt of his sword, turning his wrist to fling the broadsword from the prince’s grip. Before Fundy can react there’s a hand in his tunic and a swift heel sweeping his right leg off the ground completely. Dream lowers him to the dirt slowly, only truly letting him fall a foot at most. He falls all the same. The tip of his sword is cold underneath Fundy’s chin, it’s wielder haloed by sunlight above him. The instinct to bare his neck is too strong and Fundy is too weak, and he doesn’t have enough shame to delight in the way Dream swallows at the action.

“I yield.”

He takes the hand that’s offered, staring into the mask’s eyes the whole time. Their hands stay clasped for far longer than necessary because they’re equally terrible, it seems.

“I’m thinking about taking the promotion.” Dream drops his hand and turns to retrieve his discarded weapon, leaving Fundy to reel in his shellshock.

“For General?” He asks mechanically, another question they both know the answer to. He’s had a lot of them lately, and this time Dream doesn’t even respond. Just strides back to their arena and extends the handle out, ungloved hand wrapped around the blade in a mirroring act of faith. They’ve put their stone sword in the hand of Themis to balance her scales on, where the head that wears the crown rests opposite the hand that bears the shield. The power to absolutely ruin, offered freely.

Fundy doesn’t take it at all.

“I hate to leave early, but I feel a bit faint after that fall. Would you escort me back to the castle?”

Dream bows his head, never one to slip from their polished act.

“Of course, your highness. I should have been more careful.” After returning their equipment and strapping his swordbelt – his real swordbelt – back into place, Dream falls into step with him out of the arena. The October air is kind to them, leaving goosebumps where sweat had stained their skin just moments before. It’s peaceful for a few minutes, as morning doves and starlings steadily replace the ringing of steel and their gentle footsteps drown out the thumps of bodies hitting the ground. Time slowed since Dream broke the news to him, far too casual for something they had discussed for far too long, and Fundy can almost believe that the route he’s taken isn’t far too long to lead back to the castle.

“I thought you,” he starts once they’re well beyond hearing distance. “I thought you wanted to remain a captain.”

It’s difficult to phrase what he wants to say. Fundy is not Dream’s keeper and for his love’s sake if nothing else, he won’t act like one. He wants to, though, wants to hold on to him like a child and repeat every debate they’d considered since the offer was made. I thought it was too dangerous. I thought it was too much responsibility, you liked your squadron too much, hated meetings. I thought, I thought, I thought.

And of course, the drumming song beneath it all: I thought you wouldn’t leave me.

“I’ve always been a strategist,” he replies, voice too even to be genuine. A sigh escapes him, and he entwines their fingers and lets his head rest ever so slightly on Fundy’s shoulder. He’s living in the illusion, Fundy can tell, basking in the feeling of lovers talking a walk on an Autumn day. The prince can see right through him, can taste every thought he’ll never acknowledge, much less share.

“And the position needs to be filled sooner rather than later.”

This is what he means: We need to end, and I can’t stay if I can’t have you. He means to save Fundy from himself, to cut the chord so Fundy can’t try to keep him. To force Fundy to follow the rules.

“Bullshit.” He surprises himself with the outburst. “Leaving for some war won’t make me stop loving you. You don’t need to fucking protect me,” he throws their connected hands in the air and fights for words. “Protect me from-“

Dream tugs free before he can finish, unclasps his mask and throws it to the forest floor without even looking. He cups Fundy’s face in both hands, eyes shining with renegade tears.

“I don’t know how to do anything else.” He sounds broken and Fundy feels it like glass. There are too many things he should say so he says nothing at all, wraps a hand into the collar of his shirt like a man possessed and pushes until Dream’s back hits the tree and he can’t get any closer. He kisses him like he’s dying, kisses him like the world is ending, like they’re already on their future battlefields and Dream is his only lifeline.

The coronation arrives all too fast. He lives in a limbo between the grand hall and his chambers, between the seamstress and the head chef. The ceremony is beautiful, with green and gold filling the room and glass sparkling in the setting sunlight. He’s reached a state of calm he hadn’t believed possible only two weeks ago, looses himself in the dull ache of kneeling and the rhythmic voice of their Sage. No matter how foreign the crown feels, he doesn’t have to lie as he repeats the oath; he loves the kingdom, can swear to benevolence, to serve the people. The promises settle deep in his bones. The responsibilities, the service, was never really his problem.

“I present to you your crown prince,” the vicar finishes, and Fundy stands to face the people. He’d practiced the ceremony, knows he’s supposed to wait for quiet to settle once more and kiss his grandmother’s hand, to bow before his Majesty and show humility. Instead, he walks straight back down the aisle in long strides to where the guards are posted at the doors. The murmurs and gasps don’t matter, have faded from his awareness completely by the time he reaches Dream. And with sure hands, he pushes the stupid mask up enough to free the bottom half of his face and buries a hand in blonde hair, and finally falls into his love. He kisses him gently, and gentler when his love unfreezes enough to return the affection. In front of his father and his father before him and anyone else who cared to show up, Fundy claims his divine right.

Fuck the nobles.

#fundywastaken #fwtweek2021 #my writing #unfortunately due to my like. life rn i won't be finishing this series #i have half of day 2 written but i think i have to scrap it #thank you if you've kept with me during this series #always nice to enjoy the small corners #mine

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earliebirb · 4 years

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our tales are the building blocks of home

superfamily, steve/tony, domestic fluff, 1790 words

“Hey, Pop.”

Steve looks up from the book he is reading, thumb slipped between the pages.

“Yeah?”

Peter is lying across the long couch situated beside the armchair Steve is sitting in, tossing a Rubik’s cube up and down. It’s a lazy Sunday. Tony is still away on a business trip to Japan and Steve hates the thought of lingering in the too-wide bed without his husband, so he decides to make his way into the living room and make a dent in his reading list for the year. So far, he’s in the middle of his thirty-fifth book out of a hundred. Peter joined him in the living room an hour into his reading session, remnants of sleep in his heavy eyelids, sporting an impressive bed hair, and still dressed in his pajamas.

“Do you know that we’re getting into, like, the history of you in history class?”

“Pardon?”

“Yeah, we’re studying about, uh,” Peter says distractedly as he catches the cube as it falls down, “the history of Captain America, and stuff?”

“Really?” Steve smiles, intrigued.

“Yeah. And I have to say— Seeing pictures of you in my history textbook or pictures of Dad in my science textbooks? Weird. Still super weird. Probably will never stop being weird. Pictures of Uncle Bruce, too, for that matter. And Aunt Nat. And so many others.”

Steve chuckles. “Weirder than the detention video?”

Peter groans. “Oh, no. Of course not. That will always be the weirdest. They don’t really take into account the fact that having Captain America preach at you about following the rules isn’t really that effective when you’ve seen him cheat countless of times at Monopoly.”

“It’s not really cheating. There are no rules against hiding a secret stash of money before bringing it out when it truly counts to subvert your opponent’s expectations. It’s called being a good strategist,” Steve attempts to defend himself, even as his lips curl up into a helpless smile when he thinks of Monopoly nights with his family, always super loud, messy, and chaotic. Steve wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Ha. I beg to differ. Dad would certainly beg to differ.”

Steve leans back in his seat, raises his hands, palms out. “I rest my case.”

“Anyway… It got me thinking, I guess.” The tone of Peter’s voice morphs into something more serious. Contemplative.

“About?”

“About… It’s just—” Peter takes a deep breath, catching the cube for one last time before holding it against his chest. “You went through so much to get here today. It must have been terrifying. I can’t imagine what it would be like to wake up in an entirely new world. New technology, new way of life, new everything. All the places I usually frequent are gone or have changed in some way. All the people I know and love are dead. You must have felt really alone.” Peter looks at him, his gaze heavy and wistful.

Steve smiles ruefully to himself, remembering those first few months after waking up, a time when everything was so new and foreign and terrifying to him. Misery had settled deep within his chest, refusing to budge and sucking the life out of him like a parasite. He couldn’t stop feeling like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. Some days, he wished for death, or for him to go to sleep and magically wake up back in the forties where he belonged.

“I did,” Steve concedes, holding his son’s gaze.

“And it just made me think,” Peter says, breaking eye contact as he turns to lie on his side, cheek mashed against one of the couch cushions, one of his hands reaching down to the carpeted floor to trace random swirls with his fingers as his eyes follow the movement intently, “do you ever regret it?”

“Regret what?”

Peter shrugs, or moves in a way that is akin to a shrug in the position he is currently in. He is still not looking at Steve. When he speaks, his voice is small.

“Coming to this century. Meeting Dad. Meeting us,” Peter mumbles, and when he says “us” Steve knows he means not only himself and Tony, but also Harley and Morgan.

Steve’s heart twinges painfully as he gazes at his middle child, uncertainty present in every corner of his body, eyes still fixed on the carpet below. Steve knows him well enough to know that this question is something that must have been bothering him for quite some time, that the casual way in which Peter has approached him with the subject is a façade, that Steve needs to tread carefully here because whatever answer Steve gives him right in this moment is going to stay with him for a long, long time.

Steve takes a deep breath before moving to the couch Peter is lying on, lifting up Peter’s long legs and sitting down at the opposite end of where Peter’s head is resting, his son’s feet in his lap.

“Peter Stark-Rogers,” Steve calls gently, “look at me.”

Peter does so obediently and Steve thinks he sees something akin to fear flit lightning quick in Peter’s eyes.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Steve begins, slow and steady, making sure to look Peter in the eye. “There were times, those first few months after I woke up, when I felt like there wasn’t anything I wanted more in the world than to go back to sleep and wake up in the forties again.”

Something shifts in Peter and there is a shuttered look in his eyes.

Steve squeezes one of Peter’s ankles reassuringly.

“But,” Steve continues, maintaining Peter’s gaze, “when I look at you, at Harley, at Morgan, at Dad, at this little family I have right now?”

Steve allows himself a moment, glancing at the row of framed photographs on a nearby bookshelf. A photo of eleven-year-old Harley at his soccer match. A photo of Morgan, dressed in a purple tutu at her ballet recital. Another one of Peter and his best friend Ned, proudly presenting their project at a science fair. Another older one of Peter, Harley, and Morgan all crowded around a science experiment Tony was showing them in his workshop. A photo of Steve and Tony doing the first dance on their wedding day, the two of them utterly lost in each other, paying no mind to the onlookers surrounding the dance floor. Finally, at the end of the row, fitted in the biggest frame: a family photo of them taken on Steve’s birthday just last year. Steve’s eyes linger on that last photo in particular, taking in the details.

Steve was sitting on the very couch he is sitting on right now, Morgan in his arms, planting a kiss on his cheek. Seated on his right was Harley, hugging his arm with a bright expression on his face, mid-laugh. Peter was sitting down on the floor in front of them, back leaning against the small expanse of the couch between Steve’s legs, grinning up at the camera. Tony was standing behind the couch, hands pulling at Steve’s hair jokingly, a crazy expression on his face.

Steve looks at his own figure that was immortalized in the picture. Seated in the middle of his crazy bunch, he had tears of laughter welling up in his eyes, smiling so wide and looking like he was about to split his whole face in half. The winning detail of the photo is, of course, that each and every one of their happy faces was marred by bits of red, white, and blue icing here and there.

Steve meets Peter’s gaze again and with every bit of sincerity he can muster, he tells Peter what he knows is true:

“There is no part of me, right now, that wishes for things to be different from the way they are. I wouldn’t trade this for anything. Ever.”

Peter’s eyes are searching his own for the truth. Steve lets him, because there is nothing to hide.

Steve smiles, caressing Peter’s ankle with his thumb. “If I could travel back in time to before the serum, knowing what I know now, what I would have to go through, the people I would have to lose… I would still do all the things I did. Because I wouldn’t be able to give this up. You. Harley. Morgan. Your dad. Our family.”

Steve takes a deep breath and leans back in his seat, looking up at the ceiling wistfully. “Yes, I do miss the forties sometimes. I certainly miss my friends. I still think about them a lot. Almost every single day,” he confesses, Peggy’s brilliant smile clear as day in his mind’s eye.

“But this?” Steve punctuates his question with a pat on Peter’s shins. “I can’t imagine my life without all of you. I don’t even want to imagine a world without all of you. You guys—”

Steve pauses, his heart clenching with longing as he thinks of Tony resting in a hotel room somewhere in Tokyo after a day of meetings. He thinks of Harley with burgeoning pride in his chest, his eldest son who is away at college, the brightest freshman at M.I.T. He thinks of Morgan, the little rascal still asleep in bed in her room upstairs, a fierce need to protect her washing over him.

He thinks of Peter, his second child, who is currently looking up at him and hanging on his every word. Peter is a junior in high school now. His mind is brilliant as ever, his brown eyes always wide and curious. He reminds Steve a lot of Tony. He has a quiet and pensive side to him that shows up in rare quiet moments like this, showing that his tender heart feels things so much more deeply than he lets on. His middle child, slowly growing into adulthood faster than Steve would have liked. Affection surges through his veins.

“You guys make me so unbelievably happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. Happier than I thought I ever had the right to be.”

Peter swallows, sitting up on the couch. Steve doesn’t comment on the way Peter’s eyes glitter with something that looks suspiciously like tears.

Steve opens his arms wordlessly and Peter falls into his embrace, his thin arms looping around Steve’s shoulders.

“I love you, Peter Pan,” Steve whispers, turning his head to plant a feather-light kiss on his son’s cheek.

Peter sniffles against Steve’s shoulder and instead of complaining about the childhood nickname Steve and Tony had lovingly bestowed upon him like he usually does, he burrows further into Steve’s arms, whispering a quiet confession, voice low and rough with emotion:

“Love you too, Papa.”

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superfamily #superfamily fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something

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hellyeahheroes · 4 years

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Building Aqualad in D&D 5e

I told myself I will do at least one more of these for the Pride Month. This time it is technically for two characters who are two sides of the same coin. Despite opposite backstories they both share simlair abilitties. Kaldur’Ahm, raised in Atlantis leader of Young Justice and future Aquaman and leader of Justice League is in many ways what Jackson Hyde, his less-experienced, surface-raised gay counterpart from comics may become if he is allwoed to grow. So we will try to make a build that reflects on both of them and basically let YOU roleplay this growth.

As always (since I lifted template for these posts from Tulok The Barbarian we will kick it off with stating our Goals. First of all, we need to have power to use water as a weapon. Second, we need to have a variety of ways in which we can face our enemies. Finally, we need to be able to move as well on both surface and underwater

For Ability Scores we’ll be using Standard Points Array (15, 14, 13, 12, 10 and 8). If you want to roll or use point buy, use this as a guideline and keep in mind our Multiclassig Requirements will ask for at least 13 in Wisdom and Dexterity. Kaldur’ahm seems good in pretty much everything but Jackson does not...anyway, we will prioritize stats we need the most.

Strength: 8. Kaldur wore some heavy armors but we don’t really need this one.

Dexterity: 14, two-weapon fighting is traditionally associated with high Dexterity.

Constitution: 13, both have taken hits from some heavy hitters

Intelligence: 12, Kaldur is strategist of the team

Wisdom: 15, Kaldur is pretty stoic and Jackson has patience of a saint to put up with some of reckless people he is working with.

Charisma: 10, you either have Robin challenge your authority or you follow a smaller, angrier Robin.

For D&D way to say species, Race, whichever version of the character you want to be, your mother was from underwater kingdom of Xibil and your dad is Black Manta, a living proof of human assholery. There is no half-human half-Xibilian race, so we will go with Triton. You get +1 to Strength, Constitution and Charisma, can breathe on both surface and udnerwater, have land and swim speed of 30 feet, resistance to cold damage, ignore drawbacks caused by deep underwater enviroment, can communicate simple ideas to sea creatures, know Common and Primodial and can cast Fog Cloud once per day, heavily obscuring area in a 20 foot radius. Apparently Tritons come with a built-in smoke grenade. Atlantean training is hardcore.

We will build a custom Background, pick up Insight and Investigation as your skills, a proficiency in any campaign-relevant language and any thieves’ tools and Safe Haven feature from Faction Agent background, meaning you have a way to communicate with hidden allies providing you with a place to stay get information, but they won’t risk their lives or revealing their secret identities for you.

Now for Class Levels:

Level 1: We Will kick things off as a Ranger. First level Ranger gets proficiency in simple and martial weapons, light and medium armors, shields, Strength and Dexterity saving throws and three skills, pick Perception, Stealth and Survival for whenever your team gets separated again.

Your two features we will swap for those from Unearthed Arcana. Favored Foe lets you mark a target with a Hunter’s Mark number of times equal your Wisdom Modifier per long rest, letting you deal extra 1d6 of damage whenever you hit the target with a weapon attack and gain advantage on Perception and Survival checks to track it down and you can as a bonus action move it on to another target once icurrent one drops to zero hit points.

Deft Explorer lets you pick one of 3 features. Rowing adds 5 to your walking speed and ensures your climbing and swimming speed is equal to it. This is a little better than Triton giving us flat 30 feet of swimming speed.

Level 2: 2nd Level Rangers gets to pick a Fighting Style. Druidic Warrior is from the same Unearthed Arcana and lets you pick up two Cantrips from Druid’s spell-list. Which is nice since we get Spellcasting on this level as well.

Rangers know a specific number of spells, which we will use to roleplay some of kaldur and Jack’s powers and/or gadgets. Cantrips you can cast as many times as you want and they scale with your level, while spells you need to extend spell slots to cast (they regenerate on a long rest). You can know spells of level you have spell slots for avialable and every time you level up as a Ranger in addition to learnign a new spell you can unlearn one in place of another. if Spell asks you to make an spell attack you add your Proficiency and Wisdom modifiers to it. If it asks target to make a saving throw it must beats a DC equals sum of those two numbers +8.

Shape Water gives you limited, harmless control over water, mostly small stuff but may be fun to better roleplay.

Thorn Whip lets you make a spell attack against a target within 30 feet of you, dealing 1d6 damage on a hit. If it’s Large or smaller you also pull it 10 feet closer to you. This will be our Water Whip. Some of you may wonder why I’m getting is this way when a 3rd level Way Of the Four Elements Monk can use Water Whip which is actual water and deals more damage. The thing is, Monks cast this from their Ki Points, which is horribly limited. With this you can cast Kaldur’s iconic water whips as many times as you want.

Longstrider lets you for an hour increase your speed by 10 feet, which will also increase your swimming speed as well due to your Rowing abilitty..

Cure Wounds lets you cure 1d8+Your Wisdom modifier of damage dealt to you or someone else. Be it medipack or reassuring word, you know a thing abotu staying in combat.

Level 3: Tritons for some reason get Gust of Wind at this level, letting you choose a line and blow wind forcing all creatures in it to succeed a Strength saving throw (agaisnt your Charisma not Wisdom) or be pushed 15 feet away. I guess it’s some gadget picked from your teammates? Or maybe you can refluff it as a stream of water?

Anyway, some of you were probably wondering why I picked Druidic Warrior for Aqualad’s fighting style over Two-Weapon Fighting, since it is such an iconic thing done by Kaldur and Jake. Don’t worry, we will amend this one. 1st Level Fighter gets to pick another Fighting Style - Two-Weapon Fighting lets you add your dexterity modifier to an attack you make with your off-hand weapon.

You also get Second Wind, letting you regenerate 1d10+Your Fighter Level of Damage as a bonus action once per short or long rest. This keeps you up in combat longer, and whichever version of character you use, they are known for their heroic determination.

Level 4: 3rd Level Ranger gets to Pick a Ranger Conclave. I was thinking which one would fit best and arrived at a conclusion that it’s Monster Slayer from Xanathar’s Guide To Everything. Apparently it included Xibil, who wuld have thought.

Slayer’s Sense lets you a number of time equal your Wisdom modifier per long rest observe one creature in line of sight within 60 feet from you as an action. Unless it is shielded from divination magic, you learn what kinds of damage resistances, immunities or vurnerabilities it possesses, if any. Meanwhile Slayer’s Prey lets you as a bonus action designate one creature within 60 feet that you can see and deal it extra 1d6 of damage on your first weapon attack that hits on each turn. These two fit the idea of Kaldur as someone more level-headed, waiting for a good moment to strike.

Unearthed Arcana will let you pick Primal Awareness - it grants you a number of spells you can cast without expending a spell slot but the price is you can do it only once per long rest. As in, only one of all those spell per long rest. I guess it is some sort of Atlantean Sorcery focused on being one with the ocean. I will be marking these spells as (PA) when listing them with other spells you get (which now will also include Monster Slayer’s bonus spells, neither of which counts against your normal number of spells known).

Speaking of which, spells of this level:

Detect Magic (PA) lets you sense magic in the area of 30 feet, as long as it is not separated from you by (deep breath) 1 foot of stone, 1 inch of common metal, a thin sheet of lead, or 3 feet of wood or dirt. If you sense something you can use your action to also learn what school of magic it is and see its aura around any obcject in the room.

Speak With Animals (PA) lets you talk to fish and other animals too, no wonder you replaced Orin as Aquaman. They won’t tell you much but at minimum will inform you of monsters in the area and what they have seen within past day. If you persuade them (read: the DM) the ycan do you a small favor too.

Protection From Evil And Good lets you grant yourself or another protection against aberrations, celestials, elementals, fey, fiends and undead, imposing disadvantage on their attacks against the target, making the target imune to being charmed, frightened or posessed by these creatures and if that already happenned, they get an advantage on future saving throw to shake this effect off. Raven’s dad? A fiend. Ghost of Nabu? An undead. Whatever crawled from the sea to eat Arthur? Probably an Aberration. New Gods? Celestials. And I think Klarion counts as a fey.

Detect Poison and Disease lets you identify all kinds of poisons and diseases present within 30 feet from you, unless you are hidden by the same barriers as listed under detect magic. I guess you need to see them to be able to tell if this fish is poisonous or not.

Level 5: On this level Triton allows you to cast Wall of Water once a day. You can shape water into a straigth wall 30 feet long and 10 feet high or round one 20 feet long and 20 feet high, either of them 1 foot thick. It counts as difficult terrain, attacks passing through it have disadvantage and all fire damage of attacks or spells is halved, but if anything that deals ice damage is flung through it, it freezes 5 feet of the wall, turning it into a block of ice with 5 AC and 15 HP that is not filled when broken with an attack.

4th Level Rangers get an Ability Score Improvement, bumb your Dexterity for better attack rolls and armor class.

Level 6: 5th level Ranger gets an Extra Attack, letting you attack twice for each attack action.

And now for the spells, since you just got access to 2nd level ones:

Beast Sense (PA) let’s you strap a camera to an animal and see through its eyes and hear through its ears, but you cannto do anythign else while you watch it.

Locate Animal or Plants (PA) let’s you name a kind of animal or a plant and you know where, as in derection and distance from you, to find closest one within 5 miles.

Darkvision let’s you for 8 hours with no concentration see for 60 feet in the dim light as in bright and in darkness as in dim light, but iwthout discerning colors. This is something that you, as a Triton player, has spent last 5 levels yelling at DM you should have and WotC did a mistake to not let you have it.

Zone of Truth allows you to make it impossible to lie in a 15-foot radius. Creatures who are in the area or enter it must make a Charisma saving throw or are unable to tell a lie on purpose and you know they have attempted the save and passed or not. I’m not saying this would have solved so many issues in Young Justice but it sure owuld make things easier. Or not, I’m sure Vandal Savage’s Charisma save is like +15.

Level 7: We hop back to Fighter to get Action Surge, letting you once per short rest. Meaning you can in one turn make your full attack and cast a spell, make four or five attacks if you also use your off-hand weapon, or cast two spells. In fact, this is the only way to cast two spells (as opposed to a spell and a cantrip) in a single turn.

Level 8: 3rd Level Fighter gets to choose a Martial Archetype. Eldritch Knight lets you for a bond with both your weapons, meaning you cannot be unwillingly disarmed unless you are incapitated and if you drop the weapon, you can use your bonus action to summon it to your hand as long as you’re on the same plane of existence.

You also learn two Cantrips and 3 1st Level Spells from Wizard Spell List. They work the same as your Ranger spelsl except using Intelligence instead of Wisdom.

Booming Blade lets you make a single attack. If you hit you deal extra 1d8 thunder damage and if and the target willingly moves before start of your next turn it is dealt 2d8 thunder damage.

Shocking Grasp let’s you make a single meele spell attack, with advantage if target is wearing metal armor, to deal 2d8 lightning damage. Both this and Booming Blade increase with levels and let you imitate some of minor electric powers shown by both Jackson and Kaldur

Shield lets you add +5 to AC would you be hit by an attack, potentially making it miss you. I guess in your case it owuld be a water shield.

Absorb Elements grants you as a reaction resistance to acid, cold, fire, lighting or thunder damage - you cast it as a reaction when you take one of those types of damage and it lasts until start of your next turn. And during your next turn first time you hit a foe you deal extra 1d6 damage of that type. Kaldur withstood hits from Black Lightning and his dad runs around with a heat-beam blasting cooking pot on his head, this will be useful.

Chromatic Orb lets you make a spell attack against a target and deal it 3d8 of your choice acid, cold, fire, lightning, poison, or thunder damage. Most of the time you will likely stick to cold and lightning or thunder which are most fitting the character but you can refluff other options as special weapons for one-time use.

Level 9: Back to the Ranger, on 6th Level you get another form of Deft Explorer. Canny allows you to pick one more skill from Animal Handling, Athletics, History, Insight, Investigation, Medicine, Nature, Perception, Stealth, or Survival to get proficient in OR get your proficiency bonus to it doubled. Personally I would go with History - you know a lot about the world and have good memory and a number of times my party got themselves in trouble by failing a simple History check would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.

Also, you get Favored Enemy, since apparently Favored Foe only replaces the first one. Choose one type of creatures: aberrations, beasts, celestials, constructs, dragons, elementals, fey, fiends, giants, monstrosities, oozes, plants, or undead, or two races of humanoids. You get advantage on Survival rolls to track them and Intelligence checks to recall information about. Yes, that’s it. You see why I forgot this feature on America Chavez build on this level? To be fair you also learn one language spoken by whatever you picked, which mixes well with Kaldur being fluent in multiple languages. Though Ancient Greeks are not valid choice on any setting except theros and it would be extremly fucked up anyway.

Level 10: 7th Level Monster Slayer gains Supernatural Defense, letting you add 1d6 to escape being grappled by or to saving throws forced on you by targer of your Slayer’s Prey.

Our Spell for this level is Protection From Poison. The target that is poisoned has effects of one poison neutralized and for an hour makes all saving throws against poison with an advantage. Which is somewhat better than Kaldur’s resistance to poison of some udnerwater flora and fauna.

Level 11: 8th Level Rangers gain an Abilitty Score Improvement, keep investing in your Dexterity. You also no longer slow your movement for moving through difficult terrain and nonmagical plants and you get an advantage on saving throw against magical plants to impede your movement. I would say this applies to moving underwater but consult your DM.

Level 12: 9th Level Ranger gains access to 3rd Level Spells.

Speak With Plants (PA) make you make all plants in 30 feet from you GAIN SENTIENCE so you can question them or make difficult terrain normal one for the duration. I know some Aquaman comics argued there is a sea-faring force similiar to the Green that Arthur (and apparently in our take also Kaldur) can tap into but man, this is ridiculous.

Magic Circle is a force field of 10 feet radius and 20 feet height. At your choice it can be used so that creatures cannot enter or leave area inside it and pass a Charisma Saving Throw is they try to bypass that by teleportation, have disadvantages on attacks against creatures on the other side and cannot frighter, charm or possess them. This is likely another gadget or you somehow enchanced water to do it.

Protection From Energy is list a better version of Absorb Elements - continuous resistance to acid, cold, fire, lightning or thunder damage up to an hour on Concentration. Again, your dad wears a cooking pot that shoots heat beams.

ALTERNATIVES: Magic Weapon can be a good choice too since your blades/whips are weird and if DM doesn’t throw a pair of magic weapons your way, this will help you roleplay them better.

Level 13: 10th Level Unearthed Arcana Ranger gains the stealthsuit - once every short or long rest you can become invisible until start of your next round

Level 14: 11th Level Monster Slayer becomes a Magic User’s Nemesis, letting you attempt to foil an enemy within 60 feet of you from casting a spell or teleport by forcing a Wisdom saving throw on them. if they fail, their spell or teleport is fasted. I don’t even want to count how many times it would get Vandal Savage and rest of the Light in a tight spot.

Our Spell for this Level will be Water Walk, letting you for one hour give up to 10 creatures within 30 feet an abilitty to walk on water as if it was solid ground. It os not exactly water pillars Kaldur uses to save people from burning buildings but maybe if you combine it with Wall of Water...

level 15: 12th Level Ranger means another Ability Score Improvement, you should have Dexterity around 18 so now focus on Wisdom since more and more of your spells and abilitties require saving throws.

Level 16: 13th Level Ranger gains more spells and acess to 4th level spells

Locate Creature (PA) lets you locate a specific creature you know or a nearest creature of a type you have seen up close that is within 1 thousand miles, except if its in a different form or at least 10 feet of running water crosses the area between you and it. If the creature is moving you know its direction. Basically, if your team wants to track someone specific, like Ras Al’Ghul or Deathstroke or your dad, you can do it.

Banishment let’s you push a target into a portal to somewhere else if the fail Charisma saving throw - if the target is native to this plane of existence, it will be back once the spell ends. but if it’s not from around here and you hold the concentration for 1 minute, they are permamently sent back home. So theorethically you could roleplay this as kicking Darkseid into his own Boom Tube, just saying.

Freedom of Movement is basically a better version of your 10th level Ranger feature - you ignore difficult therrain and spells that would reduce your movement or make you paralyzed or restrained, being underwater does not impede your movement or attacks, you can spend 5 feet from your movement to automatically escape all nonmagical ways of impeding your movement or restraining you. Beast Boy will likely joke about you being slippery like an eel once you use it to escape being grappled by Grodd or Monsieur Mallah or ultra Humanite... Young Justice has fought a lot of gorillas, come to think of it.

Level 17: 14th Level Ranger gets Vanish, letting you Hide as a bonus action like a Rogue of a...2nd fucking level wtf Wizards... and make it impossible to track you by nonmagical means. Also, you get one more option to pick for Favored Enemy.

Level 18: 15th Level Monster Slayer gets Slayer’s Counter - if the target of your Slayer’s Prey forces you to make a saving throw you can make one attack against them. If you hit you deal normal damage and automatically succeed the saving throw. If you miss, you still roll as usual. Your old man’s cooking pot beam? Like a Dexterity save. Dark Robin’s toxin? Probably Wisdom. M’Gann trying to clean up your mind? Intelligence. I liek this abilitty because you have an image of someone like Psimon trying to mess with your mind and getting punched in the face.

Our Spell for this level will be Death Ward, letting you protect someone from dying. For 8 hours after you cast it, the spell goess of if one of two things happen - the target is reduced to 0 hit points, in which case it’s reduced to 1 instead, or is outright killed, in which case the effect that did it is negated. It has only one charge but it will likely protect someone from becoming another statue or hologram in your team’s hall of fallen heroes.

Level 19: 16th Level Ranger gets final Abilitty Score Improvement., go for Wisdom since more and mroe things you do require saving throws.

Level 20: We will finish with a 17th Level Ranger for a set of 5th level spells.

Commune With Nature (PA) let’s you gather informations about the area within 3 miles or 300 feet underground, letting you know three facts about terrain and bodies of water, prevalent plants, minerals, animals, or peoples, powerful celestials, fey, fiends, elementals, or undead, influence from other planes of existence or buildings in the area. Doesn’t work in towns or dungeons.

Hold Monster - you force a Wisdom saving throw on any creature and if they fail, they become Paralyzed until spell ends, you break concentration or they succeed another saving throw atr the end of each of their turns. I would play it as you wrapping your water whip around the target.

Greater Restoration let’s you remove one effect that charmed, petrified, cursed, reduced abilitty scores or hit points maximum of the target.

Overview: My take on Aqualad is a Triton Monster Slayer Ranger 17/Eldritch Knight Fighter 3. Let’s now see how well does it work.

Pros: You are pretty well-rounded in both defensive and offensive ways, letting you be able to deal damage and to mess with your enemies. Second, you have multiple ways to protect yourself or your allies. Third, there is no terrain that will stop you, if your DM loves using tricks related to that you two will have a blast trying to outmaneuver one another. Finally, you are pretty good at information gathering, meaning you can be team tactician, setting up plans for combat.

Cons: Your Constitution is mediocre, meaning your concentration will run out fast and your Hit Points aren’t that imnpressive - on average you should be slightly below 150 which is not bad but could be better. We didn’t cap either Dexterity or Wisdom - while +4 is not that much worse than +5, sometimes it will make a difference. Finally, a lot of your abilitties are situational and/or once per day, meaning there will be a lot of times when you won’t be able to utilize your strategic powers well.

Overall however, all these weak points fit your character - whenever you build Kaldur or Jacke, you are a team player. You don’t operate alone, you lay down a plan and you protect and support your teammates. A good party that works together and doesn’t underestiamte you will be grateful to have you on board

Alternatives:

Pick a Shillelagh as a Druidic Warrior Cantrip, replace your swords with a staff and for other fighting style pick Great Weapon Fighting, then maximalize Wisdom and Constitution. Fits well with you beinga tactical person as now you punch with your Wisdom. But it does stay away from Aqualad’s iconic blades.

Instead of Canny pick Tireless as your second Deft Explorer, giving you more ways to regenerate damage - you will be mroe a determinator than a wise guy, pushing you a bit closer to Jack than Kaldur.

In you want to sacrifice electric powers, grab Battlemaster archetype for Fight or even consider replacing it with Cleric - Protection, Solidarity or Unity Domains will work pretty well for you as a great team player.

- Admin

#Aqualad #jackson Hyde #kaldur'ahm #Young Justice #Teen Titans #DC #Dungeons & Dragons

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years

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Book Three: Pestilence (Ignis x Reader) Chapter Seven

Nighttime fell across all of Lucis. Prompto and Gladio split from the others once they infiltrated Fort Vaullerey to cause a distraction. Noctis, Ignis, and (Y/n) currently stood behind a few crates, crouching down and avoiding detection. The Horseman peered over the wooden crates, surveying the area. Her (e/c) eyes landed on a man in ornate armor walking straight toward them. "There. That must be the commander."

Ignis peeked out from behind their cover, listening to the man ramble on to his bodyguards. "The insolence of that up-jumped mercenary...And there is still no word. This cannot be borne. Such behavior besmirches His Radiance's good name."

"That's our target," Ignis whispered. "Let's follow him. Seize him on my signal. Stay hidden 'til then." (Y/n) and Noctis nodded in unison.

As they snuck alongside the commander using whatever they could as cover, the Horseman tuned in to the man's conversation as he rambled on. "What is that chancellor playing at? I'm no man's fool. He sent Highwind to watch me."

Continuing to sneak through the shadows, Pestilence ended up further ahead than Noctis and Ignis. She kept to the shadows, scanning the enemies that blocked them from moving forward. In the blink of an eye, she vanished and reappeared directly behind a soldier. She conjured a single chakram and sliced the blade through the man's back deeply, killing him instantly. She stepped back from the body as it fell to the ground before evaporating.

Noctis, spotting the second soldier not far from where (Y/n) was standing, warped and killed him with a single blow. The two exchanged nods before killing the next two soldiers in unison.

Further along, the duo eavesdropped on the commander's conversation as they took out another few guards patrolling the catwalks above. "It's no mere coincidence she and I meet wherever I go. Claims to "trust her as a person." Hollow words from the mind behind the magitek movement."

While distracted with listening, (Y/n) didn't sense the approaching patrol. She was suddenly tackled to the ground behind a large piece of machinery and out of sight before the trio of men could spot her. She winced in pain from the abrupt impact and stared up at the person who pinned her to the ground, unconsciously gripping their uppers arms in the process. She ended up staring into a pair of jade eyes masked behind a pair of glasses. She turned her head when she heard the guards' metal boots clacking against the ground on the other side of the machine they were hidden behind. "Seems I was careless."

"Forgive me for my abruptness, (Y/n)," he whispered to girl pinned underneath his lean body.

"I should be thanking you. I would've ruined our plan," she whispered in response, focusing her (e/c) eyes back onto him.

The two fell silent as they heard the commander's voice, once again, as he walked through another magitek-powered gate. "I may have acted in haste with that impudent steward back in Lestallum, but my mission remains clear. And I'll be damned if that mercenary gets her grubby hands on the prince before Caligo Ulldor."

(Y/n)'s and Ignis' eyes widen when they knew exactly who the man was talking about. The Horseman pushed against the advisor who still had her pinned to the ground. He refused to move, knowing she was just as angry as him and would act rashly. "Ignis," she hissed. "Let me-!"

"I partake of your detestation," he responds calmly. "But we must act accordingly."

Pestilence inhaled deeply before exhaling a heavy sigh. "You're right. I'll continue to aid Noctis in annihilating the guards."

Ignis was hesitant in releasing (Y/n), but he nodded and removed himself from her. She stood up, offering him a gentle smile before disappearing. He stared at the spot where she once stood before pushing forward.

<-------<<<<<<

Ulldor comes to a stop before another magitek-powered gate and gives orders to the magitek troopers standing guard on either side of him. "I'll give Highwind one last chance to respond. Stand guard here. If the commodore arrives, send her through."

Noctis and (Y/n) stood side by side on a catwalk above, watching the commander step through the gate and leave his guards behind. The Horseman could hear Ignis' voice from the prince's earpiece. "Now's your chance, Noct. Close in from behind. And remember: we need him alive." Noctis warp-strikes into position behind Caligo and hits him in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. (Y/n) appears at his side just as Ignis approaches. "You're in fine form. Keep it up."

An explosion suddenly rocks the base, grabbing the trio's attention. "Seems it's time," Pestilence muttered.

"Looks like they've set to work. (Y/n) and I will escort him off the base. You regroup with the others," Ignis said to the raven-haired boy.

"Guess it's time to let loose." Noctis throws his sword, warping away and out of sight.

The ivory-haired girl's gaze traveled down to the unconscious man beside her feet. "It will prove to be arduous to carry him out in such a state." She kneeled down beside the commander and placed his hands behind his back. Then, she hooked her hands around his wrists and created a pair of handcuffs out of solid ice. "There. Now, to wake him."

Ignis watched (Y/n) like a hawk as one of her hands was consumed in bright flames. She placed it against the back of his armor, the fire melting the metal and reaching the man's clothes underneath.

Caligo's eyes flew open and he cried out in pain from the intense heat on his upper back. He tried to yank his arms free, but the ice didn't crack or shift in any way. "W-What the hell is this?!"

Using her foot, (Y/n) turns the commander over onto his back with a smirk. "Glad to see you're awake, commander."

"Y-You..." He growled. "Get the hell away from me, you monster!"

Ignis crosses his arms, glaring down at Caligo. "It seems our esteemed guest is acquainted with your title."

"It appears so," (Y/n) said, her grin widening. She squatted next to Ulldor, eyes searching his face. "If I'm the monster, that would make you a hypocrite. A monster calling another person a monster is quite hypocritical, don't you think? Or is it because you believe all you've done is for a greater cause that benefits the entirety of Eos?"

"Go to Hell, Horseman," Caligo spat.

"Oh," (Y/n) snickered. "I've been to Hell and back. It's actually quite lovely this time of year. For tainted souls like yours...not so much. Now, on your feet, commander.

Ignis grabbed the man by the arms and yanked him to his feet, earning a yelp of pain from him. "You'll both pay for what you've done here," he growled. "A damn Horseman and the one and only royal advisor to Prince Noctis himself-Ignis Scientia."

"Seems he also knows you," (Y/n) remarks, looking toward the tactician.

"The hunters shall decide your fate," Ignis vehemently stated, dragging Caligo out of the fort and handing him over to the hunters in the area.

Once the commander was dealt with, (Y/n) and Ignis returned to Fort Vaullerey and searched for Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio.

While searching the fort, Ignis received a transmission from the hunters he handed Caligo over to only a few minutes ago. He frowns after receiving the news of the commander's escape. (Y/n) waited for the strategist to end the transmission before speaking. "I could pursue the commander if you desire, Ignis. That man has done unspeakable things and deserves to pay for it all."

"No," he shook his head. "I would much prefer your presence at my side."

Ignis hadn't realized what he said until it rolled off the tip of his tongue. He looked away from (Y/n), unable to meet her (e/c) gaze after such a comment. She clasped her hands behind her back, stepping forward to stand beside him. She popped her hip out and bumped it against his own, sending him tumbling sideways slightly. "I'll be right here when you need me, Ignis."

Unbeknownst to the royal advisor, Pestilence was smiling brightly as her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She took the lead, taking the opportunity to hide her slightly red cheeks and giddy smile.

They followed the sound of explosions and gunfire, which led them to the missing members of their party. Another booming explosion shook the fort as the trio took down one of the larger machines.

Ignis deactivates the security gate and he and (Y/n) stepped through, rejoining the others. "Glad to see you lot were successful."

"Does that mean you guys weren't?" Noctis asked, his sword dissipating from his grasp.

"We placed our captive into the hunters' custody, but we've just been informed he's fled. He lives to die another day."

"And I'll gladly help him with that."

As the five prepare to depart, (Y/n) suddenly grabbed Noctis by the back of his jacket and yanked him behind her. She summoned her staff just in time to block the lance that was heading directly toward the prince. "Not who I wanted, but you'll do, snowflake," the woman wielding the weapon chuckled darkly. She flips backward away from her, then takes up a fighting stance. "Never fought an immortal before, but you won't hear me complaining. Let's see what you can do!"

The woman charged at (Y/n), who swapped out her staff for her chakrams. She blocked her attack and managed to knock her off balance, creating an opening. She kicked the woman in the side, sending her to the ground. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to stun her.

The mysterious woman quickly recovered and swung her lance at Pestilence. Before the Horseman could block it, someone jumped in front of her and parried the attack. It was Noctis. Then, a gunshot rang out alongside Prompto's voice. "This doesn't look too good."

"Quite the formidable foe, indeed," Ignis said, using his javelin to attack the assailant.

Gladio swung his greatsword around, but the woman easily blocked each swing before putting some distance between her and the group.

(Y/n) switched out her chakrams for her staff, immediately casting a shadow spell the moment her hand wrapped around the thin, cool metal. A single black tendril surged through the ground and wrapped around the woman's ankles, preventing her from escaping. The boys swiftly swarmed her and attacked. She was only able to block a few blows while she felt the pain of the others.

Once the shadow tendril vanished from around her ankle, the woman leaps away from them to higher ground. She rids herself of her lance and feigns a pouting expression. "Aw, is it that time already?"

"What time?" Noctis asked curiously, eyes narrowed.

"Quittin' time. Sorry, but this girl doesn't work after hours. I could, but there wouldn't be a single gil in it for me." Her eyes fell upon (Y/n), her pout morphing into a grin. "We should play again sometime, snowflake." She leaps out of sight and disappears as quickly as she appeared.

"Who the hell was she?" The prince grumbled in bewilderment.

"I'm as baffled as you," (Y/n) confesses, dispelling her staff. "But by her skills in combat, she is no normal imperial."

"Does this mean we won?" Prompto's joyous tone sliced through the serious atmosphere surrounding the group.

"I do believe so," Ignis stated.

"Great," Gladio sighed. "Let's get the hell outta here and back to Iris."

The freckled blonde nodded in agreement. "Right behind ya on that one, big guy."

<--------<<<<<<<

On the trek back to Old Lestallum, Erra reappeared with a jubilant neigh. (Y/n) was glad to see her steed wasn't injured or captured by the empire. "Good boy, Erra," she smiled from the saddle of Ignis' chocobo. The horse followed beside the smaller animal for a few seconds before disappearing into a plume of smoke.

As the five were crossing the highway, numerous of black vehicles sped in their direction on both sides. The boys pulled their chocobos to a quick halt as all the cars slammed on brakes.

"Not again," (Y/n) murmured, Ignis being the only one who heard her.

The same group of men who ambushed them on the bridge emerged from the vehicles and circled around them, blocking any points of exit. The leader, Silas, pushed through his lackeys and slowly approached the chocobo Pestilence sat upon behind the royal advisor.

(Y/n) dismounted the bird, earning a glower of disapproval from Ignis. She crossed her arms with a frown. "Your men are in the way, Silas."

When the boys thought the leader of the gang was going to grab her, they were shocked when they saw him fall to his knees instead. "I beg of you, Pestilence. Grant us your power and we'll purge all of Eos of those who refuse to see the real beauty behind the Four Horsemen."

Her (e/c) gaze sharpened into a deadly glare, a bright flame lit in her eyes. "A desperate man never finds resolve. He only discovers more pessimism and desires to eradicate all."

Silas shook his head. "No! I only desire your power! Nothing more, nothing less."

"I should eliminate you where you stand," she hissed. "Leave before I act irrationally."

The man lashed out and grabbed the girl's arms tightly. "You will give me your-ah!"

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in shock when she saw the dagger embedded in Silas' shoulder. She recognized it as one of Ignis' blades and looked over her shoulder to see he had dismounted his chocobo alongside the others.

"Damn you!" Silas growled, glaring past the Horseman to meet Ignis' gaze as he ripped the blade from his flesh. He raised his hand in the air, signaling his men. They pointed their firearms at the four boys with their fingers resting on the triggers.

Before Silas could order his men to shoot, (Y/n) acted quickly. Her eyes scanned the crowd. One by one, men crumpled to the ground with blood oozing from their mouths, noses, and eyes. Many vomited blood before their bodies became lifeless. The only ones to survive her gaze were a couple of lackeys and Silas himself.

The man in front of her looked around after hearing his men fall. "N-No!"

(Y/n) stumbled backwards after feeling her own blood dripping from her ears and eyes. As she was about to fall to her knees, an arm wrapped around her waist and kept her from falling. Looking to see who caught her, she saw a familiar pair of beautiful jade eyes.

Ignis supported her body with his and used his other hand to wipe the blood excreting from her eyes. He was puzzled as to why she was bleeding in such a way. "What is the cause of such bleeding?"

"Exhaustion. If I exhaust my plague ability, some of the side effects rebound and affect my body," she explained just above a whisper, eyes fluttering and threatening to close. "I'll be fine..." (Y/n) used the remaining of her strength to stand on her own.

Ignis was reluctant to let her go, but he knew she could be stubborn when it came to her own well-being.

The Horseman decided to summon Erra and ride back on him to avoid getting blood on Ignis. She slipped a few times while trying to mount the horse, but she finally was able to climb on his back. She followed behind the four chocobos up the road, but she didn't make it far before her body slumped forward and she lost consciousness.

#ffxv x reader #ffxv #final fantasy xv x reader #final fantasy xv #ignis x reader #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #Noctis Lucis Caelum

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mintymiknow · 5 years

Text

Scintilla - ch. 12 | Bang Chan

summary & more info | masterlist

Characters: Stray Kids, Reader

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Summary: Thanks to the remaining boys, you and the others were rescued from captivity. As everyone takes the opportunity to rest, you spend a little quality time with your special someone. It was, after all, the calm before the storm.

Genre: Royal fantasy [Red Queen AU]

Word count: Approx. 7.7k

Warnings: A few fights/battles, mentions of blood, suggestive (may be steamy, but nothing explicit happens. Warning for those who don’t feel comfortable reading such things)

A/N: Again, apologies for keeping y’all waiting so long. I just get busier and busier every week :( I spend most of my days doing my academic obligations. But anyway, here is ch. 12! It’s been an emotional ride and quite heavy the past chapters, so let’s take a breather with this one. Feel free to send messages/asks if you have any questions or thoughts. Enjoy, ily all!

Yellow Wood seemed darker, less refreshing than before – than the last time Seungmin saw it. Because Ho and his followers attacked their secondary base, Woojin advised them to “camp out” in the woods since they might have returned to the base. Ho rarely stepped foot into Yellow Wood, according to Woojin, so they opted to spend the night in the secretive place. Seungmin paces back and forth, mumbling incoherent sentences to himself as his mind races with a million thoughts, nipping at his nerves like an army of ants. Felix teleports nearby, hearing the crunch of leaves under his boots as he steps closer with a small smile on his lips. “Seungmin, Jeongin’s been calling you for the past ten minutes. You good?”

Seungmin clears his throat, smoothing out the non-existent creases on his shirt,” Yes, yes, I am.”

“Well, come on.” he grins, lightly pushing Seungmin towards the center of the woods, “Woojin-hyung returned from his scouting. He says we should be resting after dinner for tomorrow.”

Seungmin nods, “Yeah, of course.”

At the central area of the wood, Woojin and Jeongin greet everyone. As soon as Felix and Seungmin have sat down on the logs nearby, Woojin gestures towards each young man, “Tomorrow’s the day, boys. You all ready?”

Felix cranes his neck to stretch it before nodding, “I’m sleeping earlier than all of you since I need the energy.”

“I’ve been practicing my snobby personality.” Jeongin smirks, raising an eyebrow in the exact same way Minho used to, “Gotta be in character.”

Felix and Woojin laugh at the youngest’s display, causing Seungmin to smile slightly. “And Seungmin?” Woojin smiles gently.

Seungmin takes a deep breath, mustering enough strength to tear his eyes away from the dried leaves on the ground to glance at everyone in the room, “I can…we can do this.”

“That’s the spirit.” Woojin smirks like a proud brother, “Just remember. Try not to engage in any battles with the Silvers. If ever that happens, leave it to me.”

“Roger roger.” Felix and Jeongin salute as Seungmin nods.

A few minutes later, Woojin motions for Jeongin to join him somewhere else, perhaps to go over the plan once again. Seungmin, on the other hand, sits very still on the log, eyes still glued to the ground. Outside, he seemed like a very bored, uninterested individual, but inside, his nerves were buzzing all over, the young man mentally panicking and feeling nervous. Felix happily grins, taking a seat next to him. “We’re used to rescue missions, but this is your first right?”

“Of course it is.” Seungmin says, expression nothing short of confused.

Felix laughs, “I know, I know. But like…theoretically speaking, if a Silver elite was kidnapped or taken away, how does the Council deal with it? How would you deal with it?”

Seungmin breathes out, suddenly forgetting about his uneasiness as he explains something he’s familiar with, “Well, it depends on who was taken. If it’s just any other Silver elite from the High Houses, the Council will send out the Royal Guard. If it was a Council member or Council child like me, Minho, or Hyunjin, they’d send out members of the Hwang House since they’re Silks. Shadows like Bambam could also be called for. If it was either y/n or Changbin, they’d send Minho, Shadows, Silks, and virtually almost all the Silences in Miroh.”

Felix makes an “o” with his mouth, slowly nodding as he listens to the Whisper spit all the logical explanations as to how rescue missions worked in Miroh. “Don’t you have a role in it, or like…are you reserved for the political stuff?”

“The Kim House and other Whispers are often strategists. We would advise, analyze, and strategize for the Council and the ruling family with any kind of decision-making. Be it rescue missions, political ties, meetings, we’re the highest form of advisers.” Seungmin says, tapping his temple with his finger. “If not, they’re sent to Dolorem to extract information from prisoners and well, guard the place.”

“Well,” Felix wraps an arm around Seungmin’s shoulder, “You’re a Whisper, so you totally got this. You’re stronger than you think. Y/n believes in you, so you should believe in yourself!”

“I guess.” Seungmin sheepishly chuckles, giving Felix an awkward albeit heartfelt pat on the back, “Thank you for trusting me as well.”

“You trusted us,” Felix grins, “even when every drop of your blood should tell you otherwise. We should be thanking you.”

“Trust goes both ways.” Seungmin quips, a wider smile slipping onto his lips.

Felix beams, smile brighter than the moon shining above them, “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Punch me as hard as you can, Felix. Twice.” Woojin gestures for the younger male to move closer, “Right here on the face.”

“Are you kidding me?” Felix panics, eyes wide with concern.

Woojin chuckles, “You really think we’d look like prisoners if we weren’t beaten up?”

The younger male groans, shaking his fist to ready himself. “As long as you promise not to hold this against me in the future!”

“Of course not!” Woojin shakes his head.

Felix takes a deep breath, jumping on the spot as he lunges at the older male. His fist connects right on Woojin’s cheek, sending the latter a few steps back. After, he sends another punch before wrapping his arms around Woojin’s torso in an apologetic hug. Seungmin and Jeongin grimace at the sight as Felix shakes the pain away from his fist, “That hurt me more than it hurt you!”

Woojin rubs his cheek, feeling the sting of “Well, I don’t think punching Felix and Seungmin would be appropriate, don’t you think?”

“Hell no!”

“Of course not!”

The two younger males exclaim at the same time. Jeongin laughs at them before shrugging with nonchalance, “Just put soot and mud and whatever all over yourselves. At least that would make you look run-down.”

Woojin smirks, “Get dirty, boys.”

After a few more “preparations”, the four males begin their journey to Dolorem, a rather zealous and determined spark in each step they took. As they pass the neighboring towns and cities surrounding the forsaken place, the air started to get heavier – more depressing – as if the very nature of the place was trying to suck the life out of their little crusade. With Jeongin in Lord Lee’s appearance, the people they passed by merely cowered in fear, hunching behind their home’s doors and scurrying away from the streets like mice. Despite the unbothered expression on his face, Jeongin was trembling inside; what had the Magnetron done for the people to feel so terrified with his presence?

Eventually, the group arrives at the entrance of Dolorem, the main gate of the city standing in front of them with an intimidating height. The black paint is stained with rust – or maybe blood – in a twisted, menacing manner, sending shivers down each of their spines. Jeongin musters all the strength to maintain his cold façade, waving a random guard over. The guard salutes, “My Lord.”

He glances at the three males behind Jeongin, eyes glued to their rope-bounded wrists. His gaze soon falls on Seungmin whose breath seems to hitch at the eye contact. Woojin nudges him from behind, and the younger male gets the hint, essentially relaxing his tensed figure. Jeongin clears his throat, fingers delicately playing with the chains on his shirt as Lord Lee would, “It would seem that these imbeciles tried to sneak into the castle. Unfortunately for them, I was right where they broke in.”

The guard eyes each person, squinting his eagle-like eyes particularly at Seungmin, “Well, if it isn’t the Kim child.”

A few more guards come into the scene, standing a few meters away from the group. Seungmin knew this protocol – it was the part they read the minds of anyone who wished to enter. The main guard raises an eyebrow, taking one bold step closer to Jeongin. Felix begins to feel the panic settle in his bones, his eyes glancing over to Seungmin. The young Whisper gulps, clenching his fist as he focuses his mind. Woojin notices how the other Whisper guards are slowly raising their swords, ready to strike at the head guard’s signal. Seungmin raises his head, usually gentle eyes now piercing the head guard’s own with an intensity sharper than their blades. Everything is so still, so quiet, as Seungmin and the guard have a stare-down. The younger male clenches his fists harder, so hard that he feels the blood seeping out from the skin breaking from his nails. A drop of cold sweat trickles down the side of his face, but just at that very moment, something in him snaps. Seungmin doesn’t know what it is or why, but he feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, the heavy, suffocating grip on his soul now dissipating like smoke. Within seconds, his mental abilities are clawing at every guards’ minds, tearing down their mental defenses like thin ice and molding everything like mere putty.

The guard lowly bows, followed by the rest as they withdraw their swords. The head guard exclaims, “My apologies for holding you back, Lord Lee! You may proceed!”

Jeongin acts as if nothing happened, dusting the non-existent dirt on his shoulder, “Naturally.”

Seungmin exhales as soon as they pass the guards, his heart doing a mix of happy backflips and nervous thumping. In his excitement, he accidentally reads Woojin’s mind, unable to hold back the grin that spreads on his lips as he picks up on Woojin’s proud and satisfied thoughts on his abilities.

“Knew you could do it.”

“Thank you.”

With a newfound confidence in himself, Seungmin finds it easier to manipulate the minds of every individual they pass by. They saunter over to the dungeons with ease, Jeongin never batting an eye as he snobbishly greets the guards with contempt. Woojin and Felix continue to act as if weakened, eyes heavy with pain and exhaustion as Jeongin leads them. Seungmin’s eyes turn icy as he continues to warp minds and control their thoughts, but the minute they make it to the dungeon’s deeper areas, his irises return with their usual warmth.

He shuts his eyes, collapsing onto the ground as he exhales, “My head hurts.”

“Must be a side effect of stretching your abilities.” Woojin rubs his back the minute their ropes are cut off by Jeongin.

“We gotta move quick!” Jeongin whisper-shouts.

Woojin nods, taking Seungmin with him to hide within the shadows of the dark dungeon. Felix disappears elsewhere, ensuring that no guards are nearby. Jeongin then struts along, observant eyes scanning the area for any signs of Minho’s cell. After descending ominous staircases and passing by cells occupied by half-dead men, the youngest catches a glimpse of one Royal Guard. Jeongin walks over to him, his commanding presence enough to garner the guard’s attention. “My Lord! What an…unexpected visit.” the guard stands straighter, saluting formally.

Jeongin pays no heed, gaze focused on the three individuals inside the cell. The sight of his leader – Chan – so bloodied and broken rips his heart into a million shreds, but Jeongin steels himself and pretends to click his tongue in disgust. Chan, however, is not oblivious to the single sliver of assurance that lingers in Jeongin’s genuine eyes. “I’m here to speak to my son.” Jeongin says directly. “Perhaps he has learned his lesson.”

Minho opens one eye, unbothered by his “father’s” words. The guard stays perfectly still until Jeongin sends a dagger-like glare at his direction. He steps away from the cell gate to open it. Once the gate creaks open, Felix appears from thin air, landing on the guard’s back, covering his mouth to prevent any noise from the latter’s shouting. The guard struggles to breathe with Felix’s arms tightly wrapped around his neck, but he is soon rendered unconscious. Jeongin quickly morphs back into his own self, Lord Lee’s cold features replaced with Jeongin’s bright ones. “Can you three move?” the youngest asks, motioning for them to get out.

Jisung slings Chan’s arm around his shoulders, quietly making it out of the cell. “Boy, do I feel good.”

Chan smiles at Jeongin and Felix, his weary eyes locked onto theirs, “Glad you could make it.”

Jeongin hugs Chan, “We weren’t alone.”

Felix grins as Minho makes it out of the cell, “Do you think you can walk and help us free the rest?”

Minho nods, and Felix continues, “I’m going to get Chan and Jeongin out of here, but while I do that, please go find the rest. I’ll regroup with you once I get Chan and Jeongin to safety.”

As soon as the Magnetron nods, Felix grabs Chan and Jeongin before teleporting away. Jisung turns to Minho, offering his hand as it crackles with electricity, “I’d say we’d get around faster if I bolted.”

“But then we’d also be spotted quicker.” Minho counters.

“Well, that’s why you’re here, right? Bend the metal bars and give them hell, Lee.”

Minho smirks, gripping Jisung’s hand tightly. That’s all it takes for Jisung to break into a determined grin, bolting away with his green electricity.

“You know, it’s probably around 4:00 or 5:00 PM right now.” Hyunjin whispers, pointing at the warm-tinted light piercing through the small window of the cell, “I miss the afternoon sky at this time.”

You sigh, feeling weak from sitting and surrounded by Silent Stone for prolonged hours, “I’m sure we’ll see it again soon, Jin.”

Changbin is pacing around the room, fingers to his chin as he thinks, “Where do you think the Councilors are now? Ho?”

“Since we’re technically gone, the Council is probably busying themselves in Miroh. ‘Watching over the city’ for us and all that.” you roll your eyes at the thought, “And Ho is either with them or rounding up his followers. I assume they haven’t found Seungmin and the rest.”

“Buddy’s a genius!” Changbin whisper-shouts, “Seungmin won’t let them catch him! He may not be street-smart, but he’s a quick-thinker!”

Hyunjin smirks, “That’s our Kim Seungmin!”

You hear footsteps approaching and hush the boys, “Shh, the guards might hear.”

A few seconds later, one Royal Guard stands in front of your cell, a hideous smirk on his face, “Just the daily rounds, brats. Feels miserable in there, doesn’t it?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Looking at you makes it more miserable, so I’d appreciate a change in view, thank you very much.”

The guards clicks his tongue, “Sassy just like Bang.”

“Where’s Chan? Minho? Jisung?” you hiss, eyebrows knit together angrily.

The guard wags his finger tauntingly, “The Council thinks you three are unbearable brats, but those other two – Bang and Lee – are detestable scum in their eyes. I don’t know why the Electricon was put with them, but the three of them aren’t given the luxury of seeing you guys. Especially when Bang is the princess’ lover and Lee is her protector.”

Hyunjin glares, his sparkly eyes dimmer than usual, “Isn’t the Royal Guard supposed to stand by the princess? Protect her? Minho commands you all!”

“Close.” the guard snickers, “First of all, Minho does not command us. We only followed his orders before because his father told us to. He was training Minho to be the Royal Guard’s captain in the future, remember? But we’re still technically under Lord Lee’s authority. The minute he told us that Minho’s authority had no more power over us, we were free to disobey him.”

“Then why betray y/n?” Changbin gestures to you.

“The Royal Guard is not loyal to the princess. We are loyal to our leader, Lord Lee.” the guard smirks, “Well, some Guards did resist, so they were thrown in here as well. Probably the ones who liked Minho and the princess.”

You cast your fiery eyes unto the guard, mentally turning him into a pile of ashes, “Minho doesn’t deserve to waste his time commanding a bunch of fools anyway. He deserves better men to command.”

“And I don’t need you to protect me.” you shrug, “My brother and friends have done a better job at that than you have.”

“But were you able to protect them?”

At that, Changbin is immediately right in front of the guard, the steel bars the only thing sparing the poor guard from the beastly anger that lay inside the prince. Just for a split second, you see the look of fear dancing along the guard’s empty eyes. With a deathly grip on the bars, your brother nearly growls, “You don’t know a damn thing. We both know my sister can turn your ass into ashes within seconds if it weren’t for these walls.”

The guard clears his throat, gripping Changbin’s throat, “Well, I guess that’s too – ”

The guard, however, is not able to finish his sentence as a steel pole pierces his chest so silently it catches everyone off-guard. He drops to the ground instantly, allowing Minho to come into view. “Minho?” Hyunjin exclaims as quietly as possible, getting up on his feet instantly.

Jisung appears from behind the Magnetron, waving brightly, “Hey guys. It’s time to bust you out.”

Minho bends the metal bars with ease, allowing all three of you to escape. Changbin and Hyunjin pat Minho’s back before Jisung envelopes them in his arms. You stand in front of Minho, eyes going over every injury he’s received. “Well, you look like hell.”

Minho’s lips quirk into a small smirk, tilting his head to the side as he licks the wound on his lip, “Guess I should get used to it.”

You wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest, “You idiot. I told you to be safe. Are you ok? How badly are you hurt?”

One of Minho’s hands find their place on your waist as the other one caresses your hair, “Are you crying already? Stop crying, y/n. We have things to do.”

Despite the sternness of his words, you don’t miss the comfort his voice gives you. You melt in his arms, smiling as his hand gently pats your back. “We’re ok.” he whispers against your temple, “We’re ok.”

Felix returns to the scene, somehow short of breath. As soon as he evens out his breathing, he grins, “I hate to break this wonderful reunion, but I gotta get the rest of you out.”

“Where are the rest?” Hyunjin asks.

Felix whispers lowly, “I’ve got Chan-hyung and Jeongin out of Dolorem. Woojin-hyung and Seungmin are somewhere here, but don’t worry. They have their own plans. I am getting y/n, Changbin, and Minho out since Minho might not be strong enough to run, and the Seo siblings can’t be seen whatsoever.” He then focuses on the other two before saying, “Hyunjin, Jisung, can you get out of your own without being seen? Woojin-hyung will sort of be the last defense if things go wrong.”

“Well, we’ve got to make it.” Hyunjin grins, “You all made it this far, so we all might as well get the heck out.”

“Great.” Felix grins, taking Minho, Changbin, and your hands in his, “See you all by the borders.”

Hyunjin and Jisung are left, grinning at each other. Woojin and Seungmin arrive, the two grinning happily. Hyunjin gasps, trying his best not to make a single noise as he hurls himself at Seungmin. The Whisper chuckles, hugging his friend back. “You’re alive! You’re alive!” Hyunjin pretends to cry, clinging onto Seungmin like a ragdoll.

Seungmin sighs, an amused smile on his lips, “Yes, yes, I missed you too.”

Woojin gives Jisung a fist-bump, “Good to see you again, Sungie.”

“Man, being in a cell with Lee Minho made me say all sorts of smarty stuff.” Jisung laughs.

“At least you gave him and Chan a little strength, yeah?” the older male gently smiles, patting his back.

Jisung winks, “As always.”

Woojin gestures for everyone to leave, “Let’s go, boys.”

The eldest male leads the group, but as they round one corner, a group of guards prevents them from making any moves. “Halt!” they command.

Woojin lifts one hand, clenching his fist calmly. Within seconds, the guards crumple to the ground as gravity shifts around them, crushing each of their bodies like an invisible weight. Another horde of guards approach, but Woojin merely swipes his fist, squashing them with the same shift in gravity as the first group. After a few seconds, the guards are no longer breathing, lifeless bodies laying all over the ground. Woojin proceeds calmly, continuing to lead the group. “Whoa.” Hyunjin utters, causing Jisung to snicker next to him.

As they continue to journey through the dungeon grounds, more guards appear and instantly attack the group. Woojin waves his hand, the shift in gravity causing their weapons to float above. He then clenches his fist, instantly sending the weapons plummeting and piercing the guards’ bodies as he increases the gravity to a maximum.

They ascend the stairs leading to the main level, only to be met with more guards. As Magnetrons, they command their spears to extend, charging at the group at full speed. Hyunjin ducks down, evading the pointed weapon with ease. Jisung bolts out of the way, pulling Seungmin with him. Woojin has his hand in front of him, adjusting the gravity to pull the spears down. Next, he lifts both his arms, causing all the guards in the room to float, only for them to land on the ground with a sickening crack as Woojin lowers his hands with force.

Woojin swings the door open, his expression serious as he looks back at the group, “The minute I crush everyone, you all get out of Dolorem’s gates, ok?”

“Roger that.” Jisung salutes, crouching down to get in position, green sparks surrounding his body.

The group takes a bold step out of the dungeons, slowly walking out into the open. As soon as they reach the middle of the city, guards, Whispers, and other Silvers are surrounding them. Woojin glances at each boy, nodding at them to get ready. He takes one step forward, the ground underneath his foot instantly cratering as the gravity around them changes. One by one, the Silvers find themselves pressed onto the ground, faces literally kissing the dirty pavement as Woojin walks by, heavy gravity following his every step. Jisung takes the chance to bolt away with Seungmin as Hyunjin slips away quietly. As more Silvers approach the Gravitron, Woojin pushes his foot further into the ground, smothering every living soul within the vicinity. A few small trees and decrepit buildings crumble to the ground as well, their material reduced to nothing but dust. Woojin calmly walks past every Silver currently sprawled on the floor, making it safely to the gates. As soon as he makes it away from the Whisper guards’ view, he relents his hold on gravity, smirking as he watches the gate guards abandon their posts to rush into the center of Dolorem.

Everyone regroups somewhere in the outskirts of Dolorem’s borders. Felix arrives with you, Minho, and Changbin. Felix runs over to Chan’s unconscious body, “How is he?”

Jeongin gently smiles, voice hushed and soft, “He’s just unconscious. His injuries have probably caught up with him, exhausted and all.”

Changbin grins mellowly, shaking his head, “Let him rest, I guess. Man’s gone through a lot.”

You kneel beside Chan’s figure, fingers soothingly caressing his cheek. A soft smile graces your lips as you press them against his forehead. Afterwards, you give Jeongin a quick hug, smirking at the younger male, “Must have been scary to march right into this hell-hole.”

“Well…kind of.” Jeongin beams, “But who else was gonna save your asses if we didn’t?”

You chuckle, “Thank you, Innie.”

Changbin throws his arm over Felix and Jeongin’s shoulder, teasing them about how much they’ve both grown up. As the three rough-house, you gently loop your arm around Minho’s, offering him a gentle smile. When Minho doesn’t smile, you begin to worry. You tilt your head, gasping lightly when you see a trail of tears slipping past his blood-stained face. “They’re all going to pay, y/n.” he whispers coldly, “My father, the Council, that disgraceful captain. I’m going to kill them all.”

You clasp your hand over his, gently rubbing small circles on his skin, “We’ll get them together, alright? All of us. You’re not alone, so don’t do it alone.”

The male blinks, a small smile forming on his lips, “I know that now, y/n. I know.”

Before you can say anything, Jisung has bolted in front of you and Minho, holding Seungmin close to him. “Seungmin!” you cry, throwing your arms around the younger male to envelope him in a tight hug.

Jisung laughs as you and Seungmin scold each other, laughing and crying with each word. Minho watches with amusement, but the serene smile on his face is replaced with a scowl when Jisung throws an arm around his shoulder. “You know, Minho. You’re really just a big softie deep down.”

“I don’t think you’ll be saying that if I had my chains or accessories.” Minho raises an eyebrow, the playful shimmer in his irises amusing the Electricon.

Jisung cheekily grins, raising his fist at Minho, “How I love your threats.”

Minho stares at Jisung’s fist, scoffing to himself as he bumps his own fist against his. “How I love your incessant ramblings.”

Hyunjin arrives, breathing hard as he bends over, hands on his knees, “I will admit. Woojin is one badass. And I mean badass.”

Jeongin beams at him, winking, “Don’t ever get on his bad side then.”

“Good to see you, kid.” Hyunjin grins, welcoming Jeongin in his arms as the younger male runs into them.

With their arms around each other’s shoulders, they begin to look like inseparable twins once again, teasing each other and rough-housing all the same. Woojin makes it back safely, a cheerful grin on his lips as he congratulates everyone. “Y/n, good to see you’re alright.”

You give Woojin a hug, laughing as he squeezes you tighter, “Thanks for coming, Wooj.”

“You really think we’d leave you all to die there?” Woojin winks, his gentle eyes now on his leader, “Not a chance.”

He turns to Seungmin, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Besides, this one did a great job. It’s about time he saw what he was capable of.”

“I know.” you laugh at the flustered mess Seungmin had become, “He’s always had the potential.”

A mix of cries, laughter, and scolding mingled as voices clashed with each other. Jeongin, Hyunjin, Felix, and Changbin had started jumping around in their customary celebratory circle while you, Seungmin and Minho had an emotional-looking chat. Woojin and Jisung hoist the unconscious Chan, throwing his arms around their shoulders in order to carry him. The eldest male calls out, “Guys, as much as this is really enjoyable to watch, we have to move. Mortem. Now.”

“What’s in Mortem?” Hyunjin asks.

“Mortem’s an all-Red town.” you say, “No Silvers, no Newbloods. Just Reds. They wouldn’t bother with us there. Do you have a base there?”

Felix shakes his head, “No, but Bambam offered to help us, but his instructions are only to be read once we’re in Mortem.”

“Bam?” Changbin smirks, “Nice.”

Once the whole group has made it to the dreary town of Mortem, Woojin leads the group to a secluded area before pulling out the note Bambam had given him. “First…Bambam wants us to wait in a pub called Woodstock. There, we’ll meet a man named Park Jinyoung.”

“Jinyoung’s a High House elite. Blood Healer.” you muse, “He’s…in Mortem?”

“Whatever it is, we need to go to that pub and find him.” Woojin nods.

Your group ventures into the town, Reds paying no heed to your bunch. They seem far too busy with their own activities to pay any attention, which of course, worked to your advantage. Once you stumbled upon this “Woodstock pub”, Woojin carefully pushes the door open. The place is empty, except for one man sitting by the bar, elegantly sipping a glass of red wine. “Um, excuse me sir. We’re looking for Park Jinyoung.” Woojin suddenly speaks, breaking the silence of the lonely pub.

The male turns around, his gentle eyes illuminating the princely features of his handsome face, “That would be me.”

You warmly grin, “Bambam sent us.”

“I know.” he smiles charmingly, “I’m your ride to his safe house.”

“What are you doing here though?” Hyunjin inquires before blushing in embarrassment, “I mean, not that you can’t.”

Jinyoung chuckles, his deep laugh smooth like butter, “Blood Healers can heal themselves, right? I always felt it was a little selfish for me to have the privilege of doing that, so I have spent quite a few years doing medical missions in poor towns like Mortem. I may not heal people with my abilities, but with whatever knowledge I have, I choose to help.”

“Bambam told me about your situation and asked me to assist you all into his safe house. I can help you get there safely since I usually travel with a big carriage, and no one would suspect me.”

“Well, that’s convenient.” Jisung chuckles.

“Come on.” Jinyoung smiles, “This way.”

The Blood Healer leads your group through the back door of the pub, revealing a large carriage parked nearby. “There’s enough room for all of you in the back while I control the horses.” Jinyoung states, motioning for you all to get on, “The sooner we get out of here, the better. Your injuries don’t look too good.”

You all pile into the back of the carriage, getting comfortable in the back. Minutes later, Jinyoung is steering the carriage out, embarking on a journey to Bambam’s safe house.

The journey is essentially quiet, with Felix leaning on Woojin’s shoulder, fast asleep as a result from teleporting a number of people several times. Woojin is also resting, eyes peacefully closed as Seungmin leans on his other shoulder, soft snores escaping his lips. Jisung’s eyes are glued to the small opening in front, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the view outside. Changbin and Hyunjin are busy talking as Jeongin checks on Chan every so often. Minho’s head lays on your lap, your fingers combing through his dark hair as he drifts off to sleep. Somewhere along the line, Hyunjin ends up laying on Changbin’s lap, fast asleep as well. Your brother glances at you, offering you a small smile, “You alright, sis?”

“Never been better, Bin.” you lightly giggle, “You?”

“I can’t wait to serve justice.” the prince laughs, causing you to chuckle.

You sigh and flash a satisfied smile, “You think Father would be happy with what we’re doing?”

“Happy?” Changbin starts, “He’d be more than that, I think, sis. He’d be proud.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” you grin, closing your eyes as well, “He would.”

After a few more hours of snoozing and maybe a little snoring, Jinyoung opens the carriages curtains and happily announces, “Guys, we’ve arrived.”

You all stir awake, stretching like a bunch of kittens. When you hop out of the carriage, you don’t bother concealing the look of awe on your face. Before you was a pure-white mansion surrounded with intricately-designed pillars. Colorful flowers decorate the garden like sprinkles on a cake with a little fountain in the middle completing the luxurious look. “So much for lowkey.” Jeongin giggles, motioning to the grand entrance of the house.

Jinyoung laughs, “Yeah? Well, none of the Council will dare step into this house. It would be messy since this is private property. I don’t know if this Ho person will find this since it’s literally very much hidden, but for now, you’re safe here.”

The Blood Healer ushers you inside, helping each of you get settled, “This safe house has several rooms, though some may have to share. Bambam has also prepared clothes for you all, so feel free to pick.”

Soon, everyone is doing their own thing, resting as if they owned the place or as if they weren’t nearly killed during their little rescue mission.

Woojin carries Felix upstairs to a random room, letting the young male sleep to replenish his lost energy. He then goes back downstairs, sitting by the elaborate dinner table where Jinyoung has prepared a “simple” meal – a simple meal consisting of the finest luxuries the Newbloods could ever imagine. Changbin, Seungmin, Jeongin, and Hyunjin join Woojin at the table, and soon, the group of males are happily eating while engaging in light-hearted conversation. Woojin continues to tease Seungmin for being so brave, causing the Whisper to choke on the cake he was eating. Hyunjin begins a rather serious lecture and discussion on the different kinds of food and dessert that lay before them, Jeongin curiously asking about each one as if a student sitting in a classroom. Changbin ends up arguing with both Seungmin and Hyunjin as they debate on which desserts are top-tier and which ones don’t deserve to be eaten at all.

Meanwhile, you just finished your meal and decided to move along and find Jisung sitting in the living room with Minho; the latter’s wounds are being tended to by Jinyoung. The Magnetron discards his dirtied shirt, and the sight of his beaten body makes you wince. Jisung hisses when Jinyoung’s hands press on the bruises and cuts, gauging the damage. Minho remains calm as Jinyoung cleans, disinfects, and stitches up the displeasing cuts littered all over his body. He lets out a breath of relief, craning his neck to stretch. After Jinyoung handles the wounds on his face, he smiles at you three like a gentle father, “I’m going to check on Bang Chan. Minho should be fine now. Oh, and Bambam says you’re free to take any of the chains and accessories in this house.”

Minho puts a new shirt on, giving Jinyoung a small smile, “Thank you.”

Once Jinyoung leaves, you take a seat next to Minho, “Don’t you want to rest or anything?”

“I’m fine.” Minho assures you, gently patting your knee, “You’re the one who should be resting, y/n.”

Jisung chuckles, “I think Hyunjin and the rest are already at the dining area. Felix is sleeping like a log.”

You smile at the two males, “You know, you’re both lucky to still be alive. We all are. Dolorem’s not exactly known to be the home of nice people.”

Minho shakes his head, “I’m surprised they didn’t harm a single one of you. It was just me and Bang.”

Jisung shrugs, “Maybe it’s ‘cause you two are the greatest threats? I mean, everyone knows you and Chan are like…the biggest obstacles standing between the Council and y/n.”

You nod, heaving a deep breath as you rub Minho’s back, “You are alright, though, right? Minho?”

“Y/n,” Minho ends up smiling, a light chuckle escaping his lips, “for the last time, I am. You need to stop worrying so much.”

“Rich coming from you.” you pout, earning a subtle snicker from Jisung.

“You really should be more concerned for Bang. He had it worse.” Minho sighs.

Your eyes meet with Minho’s instantly. You both stare at each other, both searching for something – something unknown – within each other’s irises. Yes, it was a surprise to you to hear Minho’s concern over Chan, the person he’s been angry with for quite a while. But there was a certain look in his eyes and a certain tone to his voice that was different than usual. What is was, you couldn’t say for sure, but it held no venom like before. There was no longer a poisonous tint to his steely eyes, nor the venomous hiss in his words when he mentioned the Newblood’s name.

Minho sees the confusion on your face as you blink rapidly. He chuckles to himself, features softening in a rare sight. He looks younger; he looks as if he’s just a young man and not the Lee Minho everyone wants him to be. After a million years, Minho’s smile is soft and genuine as he whispers to you, “Go on. Check on him.”

“Minho.” you breathe out, earnestly taken by surprise at this new side to your friend.

He smirks before turning to Jisung, “You said Hyunjin and the rest were eating?”

“Yeah, and I’m jealous so we should probably go there now.” the Electricon eagerly gets up.

Minho kisses the top of your head only to give your forehead a gentle flick. He gestures for you to go upstairs, “I’ll see you later, weirdo.”

With that, he and Jisung head to the dining area, leaving you to your confused thoughts. Nonetheless, a quirky smile graces your lips as you ascend the stairs, feeling as if you’ve gotten your best friend back. Before checking on Chan, you go inside one of the rooms, opting to take a quick bath. Feeling the cold water run encompass your figure felt like pure bliss. All the grime and blood that clung to you washed away like forgotten memories, disappearing into the dark abyss of the drain. Once you’ve gotten dressed, you slowly walk to whichever room Chan was put in, and for some reason, you felt your heart slowing and nearly freezing. You raise your fist to knock on the door only to hesitate on the spot, eyes nervously staring at the white structure in front of you.

Fortunately, Jinyoung gently opens the door, offering you a calming smile. “Chan is alright, princess. Would you like to spend time with him?”

You gulp, sheepishly smiling back, “If…if it’s alright.”

“Of course.” Jinyoung bows, “Just make sure he takes it easy since he’s had quite a beating.”

You nod, allowing Jinyoung to step out of the room. He smiles, “I will be returning to Miroh. You’ll be alright here, princess. I wish you all the best.”

“Thank you for everything, Jinyoung.” you curtsy, beaming with joy.

Jinyoung smiles, chuckling to himself as he descends the stairs. You, on the other hand, slowly peak into Chan’s room. Upon seeing him sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes dazed and almost lifeless, you enter the room as quiet as possible. You shut the door behind you, gently leaning on it. “How are you feeling, Chan?”

Chan’s head snaps up, eyes wide like a little kitten. His features soften the minute his eyes focus on you, a small smile stretching across his wounded lips, “I don’t know if I’m dead or alive.”

“Hah. Funny.” you slowly grin, chuckling ever-so-softly.

Without another word, you slowly make your way to the male, stopping as he accommodates you between his legs, arms immediately encircling your waist on instinct. You wrap your own arms around his shoulders, pulling his head snug against your chest. You feel Chan exhale deeply, eyelashes tickling your skin through the thin fabric of the nightgown you had worn. For a few minutes, you both remain in that position, allowing the silence to fill your senses as your fingers delicately dance with the hairs on the back of his neck. Soon, you both pull away, eyes attracted to each other like magnets. The warm embers flickering in your irises reflect in Chan’s own, creating an emotional dance of golden flames that sends a warm relief throughout your bodies.

Your hands cup Chan’s face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, careful not to touch the abrasions that decorated his soft skin. “I thought I was going to lose you, Chan.” you whisper, “Please don’t scare me like that ever again.”

Chan’s eyes are glued to yours, and you can see how watery they’ve become; the tears don’t fall, but the crystal-like glassiness that glazes his eyes is enough to break your heart. “I’m sorry, y/n, but I’d do it again and again for as long as I have to protect you. I’m not letting them have you.”

It’s your turn to tear up, closing your eyes as you urge your tears to hold back a little. You clear your throat, hands falling to Chan’s shoulders, “They won’t, Chan, so please. Don’t be so reckless, ok? I nearly lost you before, and I’m not about to lose you again.”

“No promises,” Chan smiles gently, “but I’ll do my best.”

Darkness enveloped the room with the only light source being a lamp. “I don’t even know if having any sliver of hope makes a difference.” you sigh, exhaustion lacing your words.

His eyes – the same eyes that witnessed countless tragedies – bore into your own; you could see that even in the darkness. Of course you could. The fire in his eyes burned stronger than your own flames. “Well,” he starts, “no matter how small it is, it’s still hope nonetheless.”

You look at the male with worry, “You think so?”

With a small but assuring smile, Chan confidently responds, “For people like us, a scintilla of hope is all we need, Your Highness.”

You feel your lips curling into a smile, worries going away – even for a moment – when he gently captures your lips in his. You found solace in the way he cradled you in his arms, softly caressing your hand. Perhaps, for now, a scintilla was all they really needed.

Then, Chan lifts you in his arms, shifting around the bed so that his back pressed against the headboard with you on his lap. He reaches up to play with the hair framing your face as you keep your eyes focused on his warm ones. Your attention shifts to his shirtless body, bandages and stitches adorning almost every part of him. Your fingers gently run across his chest before they journey to his abdomen. You sigh, biting your lip in an attempt to not break down, “I wish we had a Skin Healer. They’d get you fixed in no time.”

Chan takes your hands in his, lacing his fingers with yours, “Y/n, it’s fine. These will heal in time.”

“But – ”

As usual, the male silences you with a kiss. Just as quick as it happened, he also quickly pulls away. “I know we should start thinking of ways to strike back and get this whole battle over with, but I want the boys to recover.” Chan smiles, a playful spark lighting up in his eyes, “And, I want to spend a little more time with you.”

You can’t help but giggle, covering your mouth shyly as you nod a bit too eagerly than you usually would. As soon as you do, Chan buries his face in the crook of your neck, plump lips peppering your neck with feathery kisses. You can tell that goosebumps have started to scatter across your skin, especially when Chan provocatively runs his hands up and down your waist. The gesture causes the upper portion of your nightgown to slip, revealing your shoulder and the rest of your collarbones. Chan takes the opportunity to move his lips across your skin. His lips graze your collarbones, leaving behind a trail of fire that ignites a dormant fire in you. The sensation prompts you to lean your head back the slightest, but it’s enough invitation for Chan to return to ravishing your neck, now alternating between gentle nibbles and sluggish licks. When your hands clumsily fall to his chest, he drags his lips to your jawline. Your fingers curl as you shakily breathe out, “Chan – ”

The male merely smirks, pressing his lips on yours. It felt like forever since you last kissed the man, the suddenness of his actions causing you to gasp. It easily allows Chan to deepen the kiss, your lips automatically reacting to his fluid movements. All sense of personal space is eliminated when you pull each other closer, bodies pressed firmly against the other like nothing could tear you apart. Hands start to wander all over – clumsily grabbing, desperately squeezing, yet gingerly caressing.

Without breaking the kiss, Chan shifts around with you now laying underneath as he towers above you, settled between your legs. The gentle caresses he ministers on the skin of your thigh prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, an inexplicable wave of decadence rupturing you from the inside. Suddenly, Chan pulls away only to tug on your bottom lip, giving it a bite before licking the stinging sensation away. You allow him entrance at once, sighing into his mouth as his tongue explores your very secrets. It’s all so dizzying – tantalizing and delicious – when the male lowly grunts as your kisses become more provoking. When the two of you sigh at the same time, your nails end up digging into his skin just as he places a hand behind your back to arch it, pulling you closer.

You pull away, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. You whisper against his lips, voice so very soft and fragile, “Don’t leave me, Chan.”

“I wouldn’t even think of it, y/n.” Chan responds, voice attractively low. He places a chaste kiss on your swollen lips before smiling, “Never.”

He collapses beside you, pulling you close against his chest as you snuggle closer. The warmth that washes over you sends a rush of comfort through your veins, making you exhale in satisfaction. Chan chuckles, repeatedly kissing your forehead. “Rest for tonight, y/n. We’ll do everything tomorrow.”

You nod, stifling a yawn, “I’m sure Woojin and the rest would want to recuperate.”

“Hmm.” Chan hums, smiling, “We all would.”

As Chan runs his fingers through your hair, you feel your eyelids getting heavier. The sound of Jisung and Hyunjin laughing downstairs prevents you from sleeping, so Chan easily mutes it out for you. The only thing you hear now is Chan’s heartbeat, and for reasons only you would know, it was enough to lull you to sleep. As your eyes close, Chan finds it in himself to gaze at your sleeping face, features graced with a beautiful calmness.

He places one more kiss on the area between your eyebrows and whispers, “I love you.”

He knows you’re already fast asleep, but somewhere within the depths of his heart and soul, he knows – he believes – that you would have said the same.

He follows suit, fatigue taking over his consciousness. He’s soon asleep, cradling you in his arms protectively. The fight was far from over, but Chan was simply thankful for this brief moment of respite.

It did, after all, give him even more reason to fight and win against the enemy you were all to face soon enough.

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lins-fandom-hub · 4 years

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Murphy’s comfort

A quick story featuring the Quidditch cinnamon roll, Murphy McNully! Barnaby will always have my heart, but Murphy is very precious in his own way too. I figured he’d be a really good friend to Clara once they really got to know each other. Anyway, in tandem with the recent two Quidditch chapters that were released as well as the recent slew of chapters in year 6, I thought I’d write this. This has been on my mind for a while now, so let’s see how this goes.

Even with a blanket wrapped tightly around me, I still felt the thin veil of ice shroud over my limbs, chills tingling through my skin.

Drawing back the curtains of the four-poster, I glanced out at the window, at the sheer bright moonlight that glared back at me, and silently groaned, bringing my arms around my knees and hugging them close to my chest. This was not the best night to stay awake and wear myself out before the first rays of dawn; on the eve of the match against Ravenclaw and the fiercest Beater at Hogwarts, all players should at least get some rest. But this was also not the best night for the worst memory to resurface full force. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still see the spells that flickered between Ben and Rakepick, the brilliant green light that enveloped my best friend as she pushed him out of the way--how quickly her life dissipated without much of a hiss.

She was always a neat, orderly person, even if the way she tied her tie said otherwise. Now, with her belongings all taken home, there was not a single trace of her presence that used to grace the castle.

Without much thought, I grabbed hold of my blue mug beside my bedside table and slowly rose to my feet, quietly so as not to rouse my dorm mates still snoring like baby piglets. Easing now into the grey sweatshirt Barnaby gifted me and slipping into a pair of Niffler slippers, I slowly opened the door and tiptoed out, not bothering to close the door. It sort of became a ritual, honestly--whenever I was disturbed in the night by some unpleasant thought, I always found that a trip to the kitchens to help myself to hot cocoa would cheer me up. It happened even more so now that Rowan’s gone. I guess I couldn’t bear the thought of easing back into what once was normal with a large significant piece of the puzzle forcefully taken from me. The incomplete image would always stay with me no matter where I went.

Barely had I made my way to the common room, however, when my feet suddenly halted on the carpet floor by a strange sight by the armchairs in front of the fire. Sitting in Rowan’s old spot, his wheelchair set off to the side and his playbooks sprawled over the cushions, was none other than the Quidditch commentator and strategist, Murphy McNully.

In the midst of this whirlwind that was trying to ease back into my typical routine at Hogwarts, reeling the reckless back in line, protecting my sister with all I could, and planning executable strategies for the Circle of Khanna, I hadn’t thought that I’d see something else fall out of the ordinary.

“Murphy?”

The boy turned around in his seat to see me, and a small smile grew over his face which brought a warm wash of relief over me. The last thing I wanted was a long lecture about how I should prioritize rest at a time like this.

“Clara. Can’t sleep?” he asked, beckoning me to the sofa which I willingly accepted.

“No.” I crossed over to him and placed my mug gently beside the huge pile of playbooks on the table. Leaning back against the cushions, I wrapped my arms around my stomach as I gazed at the fire, flames flickering in its mesmerizing dance. “You?”

Murphy shook his head as well. “Honestly, sleep evades me at the worst times too. You’d think a Quidditch commentator wouldn’t experience the same thing the team he supports would...but I worry a lot. And you know how reading statistics brings me luck.”

“Haven’t forgotten,” I said with a faint chuckle. “I suppose given the circumstances, everyone would need as much luck as they can get.”

Murphy nodded in agreement as he gently shut another one of his playbooks and put it on the table. Then he turned to look at me. “So why can’t you sleep?” he eventually asked.

“I feel like I haven’t told you the full truth,” I admitted quietly. “Remember when you speculated that I may have been in a bit of a slump at one point?”

“As clear as day. There’s only a 14.6% chance I’d forget any of our conversations,” Murphy responded with a nod. “Why’s that?”

I sighed and turned to him. To this day, it still scared me that he looked very much like my boyfriend, Barnaby--except his hair was blond, not brown, and his eyes were a piercing stormy grey, not emerald. Still, there was no mistaking the glimmer of care that suddenly sparked in his eyes, and I felt my chest buzz, guilt spreading through my being.

“Do you know of a student named Rowan Khanna?” I asked him.

Honestly, I half expected him to shake his head. I figured that not many people in the Circle of Khanna would have as strong a bond with Skye, Murphy, and Orion as I have--I wasn’t even sure if Rowan knew them as well as I did. To my surprise though, Murphy nodded.

“Yes. Rowan and I were very good friends,” Murphy answered, a fond smile on his face now. “She and I used to discuss broomstick models, and she’s actually very passionate about Quidditch too. Sometimes we even played Wizard’s Chess together.”

“Has she ever mentioned me?”

“Loads of times! Sometimes we talk about the recent matches and the probabilities of each team winning each match and the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup. And the topic of you came up more than once--but she never really talked about you as just a player for Gryffindor. I figured you two were close,” he added quietly, tilting his head in thought.

“Very,” I confirmed, choking on the word as the happy memories returned full force, vivid and vibrant as they had been in the very moment. “And I’m still kicking myself over everything that happened. How, right now, we’re all still in danger despite the world slowly resuming its normalcy. There’s no sugarcoating the truth, either--this was why I was in a slump, Murphy. It’s not just about Skye and her strange behaviour. I’ve been so worried about what would happen to the rest of my friends and the school and my siblings that I let it get to my performance in...everything, I guess.”

That much, at least, was true. Most of my professors have noticed a slight deterioration in my academic performance after the incident, not to mention that I wasn’t sure whether the Circle of Khanna was actually working for the rest of my friends and peers. The longer we stayed within the confines of the castle, the stronger our enemies could potentially get. If they overpower us in the end...well, I couldn’t see why that wouldn’t bolster the headline for my failures. And if I failed...

“I won’t deny that I’m scared of the curse, too,” Murphy said after a bit. “I’ve seen the students and Madam Pomfrey in the wing. I know enough of the curse’s potential. But worrying over all of this will affect your performance in everything, and Rowan would not want that.”

“So everyone keeps saying--but--”

“No ‘buts’.” Murphy’s hands gripped at my shoulders now, eyes narrowing and piercing right through me. “I may not know you as well as the rest of your friends, but I still care as much as they do. Don’t let your grief swallow you whole. You have to keep fighting for everything that matters--and Quidditch is one of them, is it not?”

I nodded. “O-of course. I’d do anything for our Quidditch team.”

Murphy’s smile returned as he let go, and he picked up another one of his playbooks, cracking it open over his lap. “Speaking of which, did you find a lucky ritual for yourself?”

“I find that playing a piano piece I know very well in my head before flying out onto the pitch does wonders with my focus,” I told him then, a small smile fluttering back over my face as the warmth slowly seeped back into my chest, overpowering the icy cold that once held my nerves hostage. “And a mug of hot chocolate helps me get through any tough night,” I added, gesturing to the mug still on the table.

“Hot chocolate, you say? Now how did I not think of that?” Murphy’s eyes lit up at that, and he grinned at me now, abandoning the playbook still in his lap. “You don’t mind if I get a mug of it as well, and we can drink it together?”

I nodded. “I don’t see why not.”

Moments later, after making a trip to the kitchens and making two mugs of hot chocolate there, the two of us sat by the fire drinking hot chocolate and leafing through playbooks. The wee hours of the night came and went, and it only felt like a few minutes before the two of us eventually dozed off, enveloped by warmth and comfort from the others’ presence.

In scarce moments of peace like this, I have never felt more at ease with my conscience.

#sorry for the spoilers ahead of time hehe #hphm spoilers #hphm murphy mcnully #hphm clara lin #hphm rowan khanna #year 6 spoilers #hogwarts mystery #hphm quidditch #it's probably not the best thing ever but #every friend deserves comfort #and especially in their greatest time of need #so don't be afraid to reach out to a friend #you will never be a burden

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brittysaucefanfic · 4 years

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The Serpent and The Dragon

Chapter 3

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AO3)

The Serpent Lion docks in the port at sunrise the next morning, Hunk having taken the night shift for steering the ship with two or three wind warlocks to keep the ship sailing forward. Even if only slowly.

They wait for the rest of the day crew to wake up before getting off the ship so Lance can tell them his usual speech. No bar fights, unless someone else starts it, be back on the ship by morning, don't destroy the capital city again. The works.

For some reason they usually get Lance into trouble with the King, like they do it on purpose. Lance steps on to the dock in his finest outfit, something bright blue and sparkly and as formal as he's willing to get. Shay, Lance's royally appointed handler, meets him at the end of the dock with a smile. Lance smiles at her but her eyes are all for Hunk, who shuffles behind him to keep with Lance's smaller strides.

Lance looks back at Hunk to see him blushing.

"Hey Lance, hey Hunk, you guys are back early." Shay greets them. Shay is a big girl with dark skin like mahogany wood and bright green eyes that remind Lance of emeralds. Her hair is just as big as her personality.

"Not by choice I'm afraid. The Dragon's Fire raided the ship and nearly sunk us into the ocean." Lance explains. Shay frowns with a worried look, and Hunk jumps in to comfort her.

"But it's okay! Lance made a huge ice dome around the hull of the ship to stop the water and kept it there until the holes could be patched up." Hunk explains. He doesn't go on to explain that Lance was unconscious for two days for it, but Lance won't make Shay more worried than she has to be.

"Anyways, I feel I need to report to the King since I'm here anyways. You mind accompanying us so the guards don't accost us?" Lance says, turning on the charm to get her to agree. Shay rolls her eyes, knowing fairly well that the guards wouldn't step against Lance at this point. His face is well known in Altea since he befriended the Princess and she got her father to allow them to be pirates for Altea instead of against.

"Oh of course Captain McClain, wouldn't want you to have any troubles in your travel to the castle." Shay replies dramatically. Even going so far as to delicately place a hand against her cheek in terror. Hunk sighs behind him when she smiles as bright as the sun.

"Shall we then?" Lance asks, bowing and allowing her to pass him. She does as directed, and when Hunk steps to follow, Lance nudges him in the side. "Take her arm lover boy."

Hunk's eyes widen and he hisses at Lance to be quiet. Lance crosses his arms and gives him a pointed look. "Do it or I will." Hunk looks at him with a glare.

"You guys coming?" Shay calls over her shoulder, a good few feet ahead of them. Lance gestures for Hunk to take her by the arm and escort her to the castle. Hunk huffs and rushes ahead. Lance watches fondly as Hunk shyly rubs the back of his neck and offers his arm, not even looking at Shay.

He misses the bright red blush that darkens her cheeks and the even brighter smile that lightens her face. Lance walks a few feet behind them and watches in content as they talk and giggle with each other. The two of them are adorable together, practically courting but not officially because they're both shy.

The walk to the castle gates flies by and soon Shay leaves them with a smile. Hunk gets brave for a moment and kisses her hand goodbye, and watches as she squeaks and runs away with a love struck smile. Lance laughs and slings an arm over Hunk's shoulder, which is an awkward angle to reach but totally worth it in Lance's eyes.

They are greeted by the Princess herself, Allura Altea, the third of her name. She wears a blue dress that flows to the ground and trails behind her just slightly with pink accents and long sleeves. The dress is her favorite because it's the most casual one she owns. If it was proper for a princess she would just wear a loose peasant shirt and tight pants, but if her father were to see her like that he would scold her gently (after he looks at her with love and pride, which actually never goes away when Allura is around).

Lance bounds up the long steps and kneels at the Princess' feet, a hand over his heart and the other taking her hand to kiss. Allura rolls her eyes as he looks up at her with a charming smile.

"Your highness, what a magnificent sight for this weary Pirate. Truly an honor to behold a beauty such as yours My Princess." Lance lays it on thick, and goofy smile at his lips.

His flirting is more playful instead of charming since he sees Allura more as a friend and vice versa. Allura slips her hand from his grasp and flicks him in the forehead. He makes a wounded sound like he had been struck through the heart with a bullet.

"Enough Lance, stop being so dramatic. Though seeing you so soon was unexpected, I was happy to hear your return." Allura says, her smile quirking her lips to the side. "The castle has been almost boring without you here to ruffle the court's feathers."

Lance rises to his feet as Hunk catches up, slightly out of breath.

"Why of course it has, I'm the life of the party Princess." Lance says, wiggling his eyebrows to make her giggle. She always says he looks funny when he does that. His self satisfaction is justified when she laughs like he had wanted.

"I'll escort you to my father then, so that I may keep you on a leash and not let you torment the staff." Allura teases. Lance makes another wounded sound as they start to walk.

"How dare you, I am a delight!"

They take a few more turns before reaching the main hall, Allura and Lance bantering back and forth. As they approach the Throne room, Allura subdues herself. Lance understands why she does that, the court is a minefield of drama and as future Queen she can't allow people she doesn't trust to really see the real her. It would be political ammo and Allura wants to start her Queen-ship with no issues to deal with. But that's still a few years away. She's only eighteen, she hasn't even been crowned Heir Apparent yet.

Which it's only between her and her cousin Romelle. However Romelle is a free spirit who doesn't want a crown of thorns to keep her tied to the castle. Every once in a while Romelle will even accompany Lance on his ship, so that she might learn to be a sailor. One day, when Allura is Queen, Romelle will be the overseer of the military.

It's actually funny, because she might not look it but Romelle is a master strategist. She plans to learn every aspect of war before she takes over from her father, Prince Ronan. Which she will need to, since the peace talks with Daibazal are tense and on a thin line between war and peace.

Emperor Zarkon is being very uncooperative.

They enter the throne room and the chatter that had been there silences as the Princess enters. Lance falls back and stands tall, one arm behind his back formally while the other one is across his stomach in the same manner. The crowd bows and curtsies as Allura passes. She walks taller than even Lance, head held high and hands folded in front of her delicately. Her dress flows behind her making her seem like she's floating instead of walking. Even her shoes don't make a sound.

When Allura comes upon the stairs to the raised dais, she curtsies so low she almost sits on the ground. She rises when she wants, not needing to wait for permission since she's a princess. She glides up the stairs to seat herself to the right of her father. Prince Ronan sits to King Alfor's left, his daughter Romelle to the left of him.

Lance steps up to the steps and takes a knee with a bow, throwing his coat back to keep from kneeling on the hem. Hunk does the same, though far less elegant due to his massive size. Lance keeps his head bowed in respect until the King gives him permission to rise.

"Greetings, Captain McClain. You and your First Mate may rise up." Alfor commands gently. Lance rises with the grace of a lion. Hunk rises as gracefully as he can but he gets flustered easily when eyes are on him, so he's clumsier than usual when he does. Poor guy.

"It is a wonder you have returned so soon Captain, may I ask why?" The King asks, though Lance doesn't actually have a choice in the matter. Lance fights to keep a scowl off his face.

"Forgive me your Majesty. My ship was ambushed by the Dragon's Fire, and was badly damaged. I only just recovered from the magic it took to keep us afloat myself." Lance says with as straight a face as possible. Allura stares at him with barely contained shock, only visible through her eyes and only known by those who know her well.

"I'm sorry to hear that Captain. Did they take anything of value?" The King inquires, but Lance knows what he really wants to know. He wants to know if the Olkarion cargo was taken.

"No your Majesty, just some supplies. We had to come back to port to restock and prepare for another encounter should it come." Lance says. King Alfor leans back in satisfaction. Prince Ronan is the one to speak up next.

"Forgive me your Majesty, but may I ask something of the Captain?" Ronan inquires. Alfor waves his hand in permission. Prince Ronan stands up, a man as tall as Hunk but not so broad. His hair has grayed at the roots of his dirty blonde hair. His brown eyes sharp and piercing into Lance.

"Captain McClain, might I ask why you were not prepared for an ambush by the Dragon's Fire when you left us last?" The Prince asks. His question sends the court into a whispering mass. Lance fights his snarl at the accusation that Lance was weak. Which is exactly what the Prince has implied.

He replies calmly if not sharply.

"The Dragon's Fire has not operated in Altean waters before, which we were still in when the ambush began. My crew and I were expecting to dock in the outlying islands for more supplies." Lance begins. The Prince tries to say something else but Lance cuts him off before he can. "Captain Kogane is a pirate for the Empire, he only ever operates in Daibazal controlled waters, such as Daibazal, Balmera Islands, and the waters between Balmera and Olkarion. For him to venture so far into Altean territory is against even his Emperor's wishes."

"Thank you for clearing that up Captain." King Alfor says, rubbing his fingers over his signet ring. Obviously seeing his chance to speak has been cut short, Prince Ronan takes his seat with a glare at Lance. He's never liked Lance, made most obvious in this conversation. "What, pray tell, is your plan to rectify this Captain?"

Lance looks the King in the eyes.

"If you allow it your Majesty, I believe we can capture the Pirate Captain Kogane, better known as the Dragon." Lance says. There's another wave of whispering through the court. King Alfor quiets them with a wave of his hand, and then Ronan stands out of turn.

"You think you can best the Dragon? The same one who has not only beaten you once but three times? Unlikely." Ronan says. King Alfor takes on an almost murderous look.

"Enough! Sit down Prince Ronan." King Alfor commands. Ronan sits with a scowl. "Now Captain, Ronan does have a point. What plan do you have to best the Dragon?"

Lance smiles wickedly. "Oh my dear King, a good Pirate never reveals their secrets." King Alfor chuckles lowly, inciting the court to follow his example.

"So if a good pirate doesn't reveal their secrets," Ronan says, silencing the room as he speaks out of turn once again. "Then why bother catching the Dragon if he won't talk?"

A wave of whispers follow his words, but the King waves for Lance to speak.

"Because. A good pirate also knows how to extract information from their target. And lucky for you I know my target very well." Lance says with a small purr at the end. He does it on purpose to make the court think he and Kogane have spent a night together. Allura fights a smile because she knows the truth, but Lance has a reputation for being promiscuous.

He has to keep them believing that if he wants to keep people from trying to set him and Allura up for marriage. It's actually happened before. With the two of them being so close of friends, people like to expect that there's more to it, which would then be ammo against her reign as Queen.

"As you say then Captain," King Alfor says. "I give you permission to hunt down and capture the Dragon. Just be sure it's you who comes out victorious this time." He warns. Lance bows low.

"Of course your Majesty, and don't worry, my plan will work." Lance assures.

"Dismissed then. Daughter, do escort Captain McClain from the castle." Alfor says. Allura stands gracefully from her seat and glides down the steps. When she comes to Lance's side she turns and curtsies low once more for a longer amount of time.

"As you wish father." Allura says, still curtsied, before standing gracefully and leading the way out of the throne room. They walk in silence until the door closes behind them, and Lance speeds up to match with Allura's stride.

"You don't have a plan do you?" Allura asks. Lance smiles widely.

"Not a bit."

******

(First)(Previous)(Next)(AO3)

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usrfriendly-a · 5 years

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been working on this for the past few days, but here’s pathfinder opinion’s time! i didn’t want to take too much space on the dash, so i put them underneath a read more :)c

bloodhound i believe that bloodhound would actually quite dislike pathfinder, at first! and if not dislike, then at the very least, be a little wary around him. they seem like a traditional person who believes very much in their faith, and pathfinder being a sentient robot rubs against their ideals and what they see as natural. pathfinder is unaware of this as bloodhound is a quiet and solitary legend (also, he’s just a little bit clueless). but since they’re not outright mean or antagonistic, pathfinder is content when bloodhound is in his squad. they’re a very skilled legend and their sniper aim is very on par with his, so he definitely admires them and their skillset! they also don’t complain about pathfinder talking so much or his relentless optimism, so it checks out.

mirage assuming the cinematic trailer is canon, i think the OG squad that pathfinder competes with are wraith and mirage––so pathfinder is very comfortable around mirage and feels a sense of familiarity when around him. he’s a legend that he can quite soundly call a good friend! mirage talks to him like pathfinder has feelings, like he isn’t just a machine, and so he often feels a sense of belonging when around him, too. outside of the games, he’s a legend that pathfinder would love to hang out with (although when they’re around each other, they’re like...Absolute Chaotic Energies combining into one force).

wraith again, i’m going along with the fact that wraith was one of the first legends that pathfinder has interacted with! he feels quite comfortable around her, despite her being a little standoffish and cagey around why exactly she’s at the games. i imagine that if he finds out that she’s looking for answers about who she was, he would 100% jump on board and help her search facilities for the truth. i imagine their shared determination to find out about the past is what really strengthens their bond.

lifeline super good friends! the best of friends!! supports support each other!!! 👊 he always has her back whenever they’re on the same squad. she’s definitely one of the kindest people he’s ever met and her tenacity really inspires him. and even when she’s on another squad, he doesn’t hold any grudges if she takes him down. after all, it’s just a game! they would probably just mess around on his ziplines afterwards, anyway. he is also bffs with her little robot. (pathfinder petting d.o.c. like a puppy: who’s the best support? you are!!)

gibraltar pathfinder is really awed at gibraltar’s nature because people don’t typically leap in front of bullets all willy nilly?? but there he goes, jumping in front of everyone and using his shield without a second thought; he’s a human that pathfinder greatly appreciates. his loud and boisterous nature fits really well along with pathfinder, too. his hugs are among the top 10 hugs that pathfinder has ever recieved. as a very advanced robot, pathfinder can take care of himself and yeah, he knows that it’s true! but the fact that a human would find pathfinder worth protecting without hesitation never fails to surprise him. all of gibraltar’s moments of protection really stick with him, if you know what i mean.

caustic pathfinder is indiscriminately friendly towards everyone––but caustic is on thin fucking ice!!! he just finds the man to a downer to have on his team, since he rarely even laughs at pathfinder’s jokes and his gas always messes up his sensors. pathfinder also doesn’t care for how he refers to the mrvn like he’s a mechanical automaton. however, the really unbearable thing about caustic that pathfinder hates is that he treats his squad mates like they’re just variables in the equation to winning, and like they’re not friends! which sucks! if caustic says anything about the legends he cares about he’s gonna be >:| the entire time he works with him. basically, just keep in mind the cinematic trailer when he stepped on caustic, and that’s how you sum up how he feels about him.

bangalore pathfinder finds her to be quite an intimidating foe when she isn’t on his squad. her military prowess lends her to be a difficult opponent to outsmart and her skill with guns is indisputable. to put it plainly, he just thinks she’s a real badass! i’m certain that they would make a great team in combat, what with her smoke launcher providing cover for him to grapple him and take down other squads without them knowing what hit them. he probably values her opinion, too, as she seems to be a natural soldier and strategist at heart.

#just to make it clear: these are general views of how pathfinder feels!#and they will most certainly change depending on each individual i write with :)c #vii. ｢ ch. study. ｣

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reluctantwrites · 6 years

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One Last Chance

Part 7 - Trust (AO3 Link)

Athran heads off to perform his duties, and the team reconvenes to plan the final assault - the grand theft. But sometimes, even planning the plan does not go according to plan.

CW: violence, (very) minor character death, mentions of abuse

Athran released a shaky breath, his skin clammy, his hands curling and flexing by his sides as he walked a few steps behind his escort. The guard was one he’d only seen once before, but it had been recently, and it had been memorable. As they moved down the hallway the large man paused, turning, a thin smile curling up the corner of his mouth.

“Well, you’re looking better than when I left you. You elves must heal up well.”

Immediately, Athran looked down, casting his gaze to the marbled floor. He was meant to show reverence to the guards as well as the guests, and the last thing he needed was to anger the man who’d already beat him senseless earlier that night. His face still ached from where he had been struck for dropping the tray, and part of him wished he’d remembered to apply the salve. It would have helped numb the area; muted the pain.

He supposed a lot had happened between then and now.

After an extended pause, the guard scoffed and turned, continuing to walk. “Didn’t think I’d get many kicks out of this job, short as it is. Should thank you for being a clumsy bastard. Thought I’d die of boredom tonight.”

Athran hated the mercenaries. Or some of them, at least. There were no consequences for men hired for days or weeks at a time. They just did what they liked, and so long as it didn’t directly inconvenience Talveron, they got away with it. As most could never afford slaves of their own, they often treated it like a fun little experiment; a way to get a taste of what that might be like. Athran had learned quickly to avoid such men, but this time, that seemed almost impossible.

Although compared to some, this one wasn’t so bad.

The guard paused, glanced down at a card of paper, then huffed. “Right. Here you are.” Reaching out, he knocked three times, then stepped away, walking back towards Athran. He paused, leaning in close, his breath hot and honey-sweet with mead. “You have fun, eh? And try keep it down. Walls are thin ‘round here.” He snorted. “Or don’t. Some folks might like a bit of a show.”

It took everything Athran had to suppress a shudder as the guard slowly looked him over then left him there, standing alone in the corridor. Suddenly, he felt cold, as though instead of being surrounded by wall and stone, he was out in the open, afraid and exposed on an empty field. He wanted to run. Flee. Anything.

Then he remembered the warmth of Hanin’s arms around him. How, for the first time in eleven years, he’d felt safe somewhere, even if only for a few seconds before reality had come crashing back into place.

The door creaked open, snapping Athran back to the present. Even knowing who was behind it, his heart thrummed wildly, hands growing clammy as it opened and a man appeared. He was handsome. Tall. Well-dressed in a robe and subtle jewellery, his hair neatly combed, his moustache perfectly maintained. That didn’t mean much, usually. Most of the worst people in Tevinter looked something like that.

“You must be Athran, yes?”

Swallowing tightly, Athran dropped his gaze, horrified that he’d actually let himself look higher than the hem of the man’s expensive robes. “Yes, my lord.”

There was a pause, then Magister Pavus stepped aside. “It would be best if you came inside. I can’t say I’m particularly fond of holding conversations in the corridor.”

Athran obeyed, moving past the Magister, careful not to accidentally touch him. Some could be picky about that, and he really had no idea what to expect. He trusted Hanin as much as he could trust anyone he hadn’t seen for eleven years, which naturally left a bit of room for doubt.

Regardless, it was still more than he trusted anyone else.

The door closed and Athran released a slow, shaky breath, trying to keep it as silent as possible. Magister Pavus’ footsteps were slow and careful, moving in a wide circle until he stood in front of Athran, the deep crimson of his robe a blur of colour at the edge of his vision.

“I… don’t suppose you know who I am, do you?”

Athran wet his lips and bowed his head. “The Magister of House Pavus. I am here to serve.”

He heard the man exhale, the sound almost uncertain. “Ah. Yes, well… that I am. Although I tend to prefer Dorian, when not conducting business.” He moved again, over towards a set of plush chairs at the side of the room. A small table sat between them, a leather case sitting on top. Athran didn’t want to know what was in that, and he remained rooted to the spot, not entirely sure what to do. Normally he would have been given orders by now. It seemed the Magister also realised this, because he cleared his throat gently. “Come. Take a seat. There is much to discuss.”

Athran obeyed, settling across from the man, his heart still thumping hard against his ribcage. He knew Hanin wouldn’t lie to him. Logically, he knew that. But no one, slave or servant or otherwise, ever wanted to be alone with a Magister in their room. It never led to anything good.

“You are of clan Lavellan, yes?”

Weakly, Athran nodded.

“And you have been in the Imperium for quite some time?”

Again, he nodded, then hesitated. “Eleven years, my lord.”

Even though he wasn’t looking directly at him, Athran saw Magister Pavus stiffen slightly.

“I see. And please, Dorian is fine. I… know it may not seem as such, but I am on your side.”

If he wasn’t so utterly terrified, Athran might have laughed. As it was, he just gave a faint nod, feeling strangely light-headed with the motion, his stomach in a knot. “I was… told as much.”

“You were? Ah. Excellent.” There was a measure of relief to the Magister’s words and he seemed to relax. Good for him. “That saves us some time, then. But first, I recall the incident at the party. Are you well?”

This time, Athran did glance up, mostly out of sheer confusion. Magister Pavus must have read the expression on his face because he smiled kindly, shifting to clasp his hands in front of him. “Forgive me if I am wrong, but I struggle to imagine Talveron Idaris as a…. lenient man.”

The throbbing pain in Athran’s face was enough of a reminder of that fact. Even if it had not been Talveron’s hand that dealt the blow, he would have condoned it without question for embarrassing him with such clumsiness. “I am fine. Thank you.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“No.” The response was like a reflex. He had been asked so many times in the past and no one had ever been interested in the truth. But then, Athran paused, something about the way the Magister watched him with a kind of patient concern leaving him curious to test the waters. “Yes. My eye. Sometimes. It is nothing unbearable.”

“I see.” Magister Pavus nodded, then cleared his throat, turning slightly in his chair. “Adiran. Could you come here a moment?”

At first, Athran wasn’t sure what to make of that. Then a door opened at the side of the room and a young man stepped in, all nervous energy and tousled hair. “Yes, D--” His bright green eyes flicked across to Athran. “I mean, ah, Lord Pavus?”

“Would you mind fetching some ice from the kitchens?” The Magister’s pale grey eyes flicked across, then down, as if inspecting Athran’s form. It was hardly unusual, for him to be measured in such a way. The result, however, certainly was. “Something to eat and drink as well, if you please. Whatever you can comfortably carry alone.”

“Of course.” The young man bowed, straightened, smiled warmly at Athran, then hurried out of the room.

There was a lot Athran could tell from first impressions, and he discerned two things in that brief exchange. Firstly, the young man, Adiran, was not afraid of his employer. The smile had been as much for Magister Pavus as it had been for him. Secondly, the Magister himself, who had watched with a kind of fond amusement as his servant hurried out of the room, genuinely seemed to care about him.

That or he was a fantastic liar.

“Now, while we wait, I imagine you have a number of questions. I will answer what I can.” As the Magister spoke, Athran found his gaze returning to the man’s face. Dorian smiled at that, the expression encouraging as he reached out and snapped open the clasps of the leather case. “However, I find it is often easier to talk when partially distracted. It frees the mind from the burden of overthinking.”

Athran watched warily as Dorian removed a board from the case, unfolding it and setting it on the table along with a number of small pieces of various shapes. He worked wordlessly as he set it up, and Athran’s curiosity quickly got the better of him. “What is that?”

Dorian glanced up, and for a second, Athran feared he had become too complacent. That he had been tricked into a false sense of security; into overstepping. But quickly, a smile returned to the Magister’s face.

“A Ferelden game. They call it ‘chess’. I understand it’s quite popular among strategists.” Finishing, he sat back, two rows of pieces now standing at either end of the board; black and white. “Have you heard of it?”

Slowly, Athran nodded his head. “Yes. They played it in the Free Marches too, sometimes. But I never…” He swallowed, fingers anxiously plucking at the fabric of his pants beneath the table. There was no use pretending. “I don’t know how to play.”

Luckily, Dorian was not at all taken aback by the confession. Instead, his eyes almost seemed to brighten, and he waved a graceful hand towards the board.

“Would you care to learn?”

Hanin and Lyrene practically flopped onto their cots the second they stepped back into the overflow barracks, the twin sensations of relief arriving and anxiety flooding out of them overwhelming as Launcet closed the heavy door.

“And you’re sure this won’t be a fucking problem?” Cyrus, who had been with Launcet when Lyrene and Hanin were ‘summoned’, looked about as pleased as a rain-drenched cat. “Some Magister is going to be expecting a couple of slaves to show up at his door. What’s he going to do when they don’t?”

It was true. Hanin had to admit, the excuse had been… lacking. After Athran and the other slaves had been gathered and sent to their respective rooms, it had taken almost another hour before a second summons arrived, this time for Hanin and Lyrene. Apparently, they were to be taken to the rooms of Magister Sildarius, with Launcet and Cyrus as their escort. Instead, of course, they had returned to the overflow barracks.

“Do you think this is my first infiltration?” Launcet’s gaze cut between Cyrus and Hanin, as though sensing the elf’s silent agreement with the Orlesian. “I have it on good authority that Sildarius was drunk as a beggar by a brothel. With the hangover that old bastard’s going to have, he won’t remember asking for any company, yet alone enjoying it.”

Hanin’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s authority?”

“Mine.”

Hanin startled, turning, his eyes widening as Varlen slunk out of the shadows. “Sildarius was already pretty drunk at the beginning of the night, when I saw him talking to Riv,” the silver-haired elf continued. “By the end, he actually needed some servants to pretty much carry him to his room. It’ll be fine.”

“What are you doing here?”

Varlen stiffened, his resolve hardening before Hanin’s stern glare. “Helping, obviously. Dorian can’t go pulling that stunt every night, you know. Once, sure, people won’t really ask any questions. But more than that?” Varlen shook his head. “It’ll start looking suspicious. So unless you want Athran being sent around to other Magisters - which I sure as hell don’t - we need to come up with a plan. Fast.”

There was something about the way Varlen said it. So matter-of-fact. So callous, yet so undeniably true. Hanin’s jaw pulsed, teeth grinding, but eventually he had no choice but to concede he was right. As much as he hated the idea of Varlen taking the risk of being there, Hanin had to admit his insight would be valuable. “Fine. Stay.”

Varlen arched a brow, moving over to join the rest of the group. “I wasn’t really asking for permission.” When Hanin’s glare sharpened, Varlen swallowed and added quickly, “But, ah, real great to have it! Yep. Super great. Happy to help.”

Sighing wearily, Hanin turned his attention back to Launcet. “Did you get the new rotation?”

The man nodded, gesturing towards a piece of paper already on the table. He must have dropped it off earlier in the night. “Sure did. Was able to, ah… adjust it, too. Just a little. Couldn’t go tampering too much or folks would get suspicious, but swapping some names here and there won’t raise any eyebrows.” Hanin reached over, taking it off the table for inspection as Launcet continued. “We’re going to get you back into the slave’s quarters tomorrow, but that’s about the only part that’s staying the same. Instead of that charming bastard who was keeping watch tonight, we’re going to have an actual charming bastard do the job.”

Nodding, Hanin read aloud from the roster. “Daimon: slave quarters.” He glanced up. “That’s you, Ralon.”

Ralon just grinned. “Great. Should I bring a book?”

Lyrene snorted in amusement. Clearly, she had already briefed him about that aspect of the night. “Sure. Make sure it’s something sleazy, though. Gotta keep it authentic.”

The mood soured at that. Even leaving, the guard had taken it upon himself to make a lewd remark about Lyrene as she passed. It had only been the woman’s painfully tight grip on Hanin’s elbow that had stopped him from swinging around and decking the man.

“Keep reading,” Launcet interrupted, nodding towards the roster. Obediently, Hanin returned to task, scanning until a familiar name jumped out at him.

“Ayden: southern door.” Hanin paused at that, a thought dragging him from his task as he looked up at the young man. “How did you even manage to pass as a guard?”

An almost dangerously sweet smile spread across the blond elf’s face. “Aye, well, pretty easy to hide my ears under a helmet. Sleeping in the barracks got a tad tricky, but I just shared a cot with Cassius and no one dared get close enough to bother.”

Immediately, at the sudden wave of raised brows, Cassius, who had been quietly looming at the edge of the group, rolled his eyes. “Nothing like that. Get your heads out of the damn gutter.”

Ayden just grinned, jerking a thumb towards the tall human. “See? Who wouldn’t give that a wide berth?”

Grunting, but ultimately satisfied, Hanin returned to the list. It took a little longer for him to spot another familiar name, which was testament solely to the sheer amount of security Talveron had operating at his estate. “Livia and Kian: southern sector.”

Connors exchanged a glance with Cyrus and nodded. “That will provide you with clear passage to the wall.”

“Exactly,” said Launcet, pleased that someone had put the pieces together. “Now, I’m stationed up on the back wall, but I’m not alone. That’s where the problem’s going to be.” Walking to the table, he leaned back over the map of the estate. “There are no mercenaries on wall duty, just Talveron’s private guard, which means they’re well trained and probably not open to accepting a bribe.”

Hanin nodded. “Then we kill them.”

In truth, he had been expecting a series of groans and a few rolled eyes, but instead what he received was a tense, uncertain silence.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” was all Launcet said, arms folded tight across his chest. “But if that is what it takes… do it quickly and quietly. Leave no survivors. The Nightingale doesn’t want any talk getting out about who you lot actually are. If we can blame this on a rogue group of mercenaries, that would be ideal. From what I’ve seen, I can’t imagine Talveron interviewed them all personally.”

“Alright then,” Hanin said, glancing about the room. “It’s a start. But how are we--”

A loud series of thumps suddenly sounded at the door, hard enough to make it shake in its frame. Silence fell across the room, panicked glances darting about, everyone frozen in place as though they had forgotten how to move.

Then, the Dusk Squad launched into action.

Cassius had Hanin by the arm, hauling him to his feet, the others manhandling his squad in much the same way, shoving them towards the cots. “Go,” Cassius hissed, “under the cots. Hide as best you can.”

They scattered, sliding under beds, Hanin grateful for the first time in his life for the lack of armour as he shimmied his way beneath the low frame. It was a tight fit, but he managed, the floor pressed to his back, the bottom of the bed to his chest. Part of him worried if he breathed too hard, the whole frame might shift. Relax. Don’t think about it.

From where he was, Hanin could see a slice of the scene unfolding by the door. The Dusk Squad were out in the open, all clad in Inquisition attire, three of them sitting around the table, seeming utterly unphased as whoever was outside the door pounded a second time, the act somehow increasing in aggression. Breathing out, Cassius gave a final check of the room then threw the door open. The movement was so perfectly sudden and unforgiving that the knocking man staggered forward slightly, caught off-balance as the door gave way beneath his fist. From what Hanin could tell, he wore the colours of a guard. One of Talveron’s proper soldiers, if he had to take a guess, based on the crispness of his uniform and his carefully groomed exterior.

“Right. What’s going on in here?” He demanded, recovering from his stumble, tersely tugging his coat back into place. “You are all with the Inquisition, correct?”

“Sure are.” Daimon stepped forward, his face the puppy-like picture of confused innocence. “And I’m pretty sure nothing’s going on? We’re just staying up playing a few rounds of Wicked Grace. Right lads?”

As if on cue, Ayden, Krissa, and Livia gave a wave, the elven man smiling brightly as he fanned a handful of cards. Where those had come from, Hanin couldn’t begin to say.

“I’m winning, for the record,” Ayden announced, then yelped as Krissa kicked his shin, her scowl sharp enough to slit a throat.

“Not for long you’re not!”

“Ow - what the hell, Ly? That’s going to bruise…”

Sighing, Cassius turned away from the commotion back to the guard in the doorway. “There. That is what is going on here. I take it there are no rules at the estate against card games?” He thumbed back at the now healthily bickering group at the table. “If the noise is the problem, I’ll give them a talking to. We’ll keep it down.”

The guard stood his ground, something about the way he was looking past Cassius through narrowed eyes spiking Hanin’s heart rate. Slowly, the guard’s posture stiffened, as though he were being drawn up by a string at the crown of his head. “I know what you’re doing in here. Come clean, now, and I won’t report it.”

Cassius seemed at a loss for words, but Daimon quickly filled in the gap, two steps bringing him directly before the guard. “Afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific. Great that you know what we’re up to and all, but it’s hard to confess to something we don’t know ourselves.”

“The servants.” There was no room for argument in the guard’s tone, the words delivered sharp and clear. They sliced through the faux-squabbling of the table group like an axe through a neck. Shifting slightly, peering around the room, his hand drifted down to rest at the hilt of his sword. A warning. “Or slaves. I caught a glimpse of their uniforms slipping through the door. I don’t know why you’ve got them in here, but it’s over now.” When he was met with nothing more than stunned silence, he gave a frustrated sigh. “Listen. It’s late. Just bring them out and I’ll get them back to their quarters. So long as you haven’t done something stupid, like roughed them up, there doesn’t need to be a fuss over it.”

Cassius and Daimon exchanged a slow, uncertain glance. Then, after a moment, Cassius nodded and Daimon took a step away, removing himself from the conversation. “Alright,” Cassius said, spreading his hands. “You got us. It’s hard to resist the temptation of company after so long on the road.” He cleared his throat, turning towards the beds, the guard warily moving further into the room. “You heard the man! Jig is up. Come on out, you two.”

Slowly, not entirely sure what they were thinking, Hanin did as he was told, sliding out from under the bed. Or, more correctly, shoving the bed off of him, then rising to stand awkwardly in the space left behind. Lyrene performed a bit more gracefully, her expression sculpted into what Hanin hoped was a mask of fear. If not, he would have to find some way to make all of this up to her when they were back at Skyhold.

Luckily, none of the others took this as their cue to reveal themselves, and remained concealed.

The guard eyed them over carefully as they stood, revealed, lingering for longer on Lyrene. Hanin knew that look well. It was one he had given his squad many times. The guard was checking them for signs of injury, so Hanin made an effort to stand taller and raise his chin.

After a moment, the guard grunted. “Alright. Come on, then. You two know you’re not meant to be around the soldiers’ barracks, yet alone in one.”

Hanin was about to follow his instructions but noticed Lyrene was remaining rooted in place. As though she was terrified.

Or as though she was waiting for something to happen.

“They won’t be in trouble, will they?” Ayden asked suddenly, lurching to his feet and moving to the guard’s side. “Please, ser, it was just meant to be a bit of fun. We didn’t know they weren’t allowed.”

The guard regarded Ayden for a long, calculating moment. “Do you take me for a fool? You wouldn’t have hidden them unless you knew they shouldn’t be here. As for the slaves… I don’t deliver punishments. Just enforce the altus’ orders.”

“But--”

The guard raised a hand sharply, cutting off Ayden’s distressed protests, but something seemed to give way before the young man’s imploring. “Alright, look… I’ll keep it quiet as best I can. The altus wants this to all go smoothly, and this… it isn’t ideal for any of us.” He turned, brow creasing when he realised Hanin and Lyrene hadn’t moved. “Come on, then. Quickly and quietly. I’ll get you back befor--”

Suddenly, there was movement. Like a lioness pouncing on her prey, Livia was on him, the belt from her uniform wrapped tight around his neck. The guard jerked and staggered, rasping, hands flying to his throat, but she held fast, her once soft expression hard and grim. The chatty nervousness that seemed to shadow the woman had all but vanished, and she twisted the leather tighter as he bucked and clawed at the belt, his throat, her. She didn’t even flinch when he reached down, groping blindly for his blade, ready to slash blindly to save himself.

“Ah. Poor bastard’s looking for this, ay?” Ayden grinned as the guard’s hand passed through air where his sword used to be, then raised the blade himself, turning it over curiously in the lamplight. “It’s nice, you know. Think I might keep it. Bit of a souvenir.”

The guards movements were slowing, aborted coughs jerking his body as his lungs tried to pull in air. He sank to his knees, Livia’s hands still affixed to the belt, pulling it tight, crushing his throat. His face was almost as red as his uniform now, veins bulging at his temples, eyes wide and blood-shot as his fingernails raked his skin in his struggle to pull the leather from his neck. Slowly, almost inevitably, he slumped, a few more broken attempts to breathe causing him to spasm, until he went suddenly, impossibly still. Blood ran down his neck in slow trickles, soaking into his collar. Livia, expression blank, kept the belt tight well after he stopped moving.

“Shit,” Lyrene breathed, taking a shaky step back. Hanin couldn’t help but agree. None of them were strangers to death, it was true. But with a blade, it seemed different, somehow. Cleaner, or perhaps just less personal. Stab a man in the right place, and you can comfortably leave knowing he would eventually die. You were free to just move onto the next opponent on the battlefield.

But that…

“Y-You killed him.” Darren had made his way out from under one of the cots, his face stark-white, eyes staring at where Livia still held the corpse of the guard in a kneeling position. He seemed almost transfixed by it, stunned into a kind of emotional delay. “W… Why did you do that?”

Looking at the ‘Dusk Squad’ now, Hanin could see it. For the first time, he realised with no small amount of certainty that these men and women who had been joking and laughing with them moments ago, were agents. Assassins. Killers and murderers and thieves, brought together by order of the Nightingale to complete a task. His task. They were dangerous. Ruthless. Willing to get their hands dirty and cast aside morality to ensure success..

They were exactly the kind of people he needed.

But even knowing that, the look on Darren’s face made Hanin wish they weren’t.

“It was us or him, kid.” Daimon’s gaze cut away from the guard’s body, something cold and calculating in those brown eyes that matched his sister’s. It was entirely at odds with the person Hanin thought he knew. “We get sprung here, and it’s all our necks on the line.”

He didn’t even cringe at his choice of words, but Darren did. “But he… he was just doing his job. Wasn’t he?” He searched around imploringly at the crowd of faces. “Wasn’t he? I-I thought…”

“We’re not here to do things gently.” Kian spoke for what Hanin felt was the first time since they’d met. The young man’s expression was somber yet resolved as he leaned back on the edge of the table. “But this isn’t on your conscience. It’s on ours. It’s why we’re here. What we’re here for.”

Mortified, words failing, Darren turned to Hanin, distress seeming to radiate from him despite his silence as he sought something from him. Disapproval. Reassurance. Disgust?

Hanin just shifted his attention to Launcet, who was dusting himself off miserably as he crossed the room. “What do you plan to do with the body?”

Grunting, clearly far from thrilled, Launcet nudged the guard’s knee with his foot. Only when there was no response did Livia finally allow him to thud heavily to the floor. The most off-putting part was probably the way she slipped the belt back around her waist, as though it hadn’t just been used to choke a man to death.

“Might have to get creative with this one. Some mercenary would’ve been easy enough to deal with, but one of Talveron’s own?” Launcet exhaled in a rush, running a hand down his face. “Maker’s fucking balls...”

Daimon clapped him on the back good-naturedly. “C’mon, Launcet. Gotta earn your keep.” He paused, gaze drifting down to the guard, then shrugged. “At least we kept it clean for you. Good call with the belt, Liv. I was just going to knife him.”

Livia gave him a half-smile, her old mask slow to return. “Thanks. Figured we could use as little mess as possible.” She scuffed the floor with her boot. “Besides, it’s real hard to get blood out of wood...”

Turning away from the Dusk Squad as they argued over what to do with the corpse, Hanin found himself faced with a different kind of problem. Darren was sitting on the edge of one of the cots, Lyrene and Cyrus by his side. Ralon and Connors slunk nearby, the Antivan seeming perturbed while Connors showed about as much interest in the affair as she might give to a tree in passing. Sighing, sensing this wasn’t something he could just ignore, Hanin walked over to the group. Each step felt heavier as he approached. Each step left him less certain of what he was going to say.

“They murdered him.” Darren was speaking softly as Hanin drew near. There was less horror in his voice, now. Less everything. He just seemed... lost. Shaking his head, he looked up at his squadmates. “We don’t do that, do we? Just… kill people because it’s convenient?”

“No, we don’t,” Lyrene said softly, her arm wrapped around the young man’s shoulders. “We don’t, Darren.”

“But they do.” There was something about the way Cyrus said it; a kind of unspoken certainty to the words; that left Hanin both reassured and unsettled. “It’s why they’re here. The Nightingale hired them for this.”

“I know. I do. It’s just…” Darren just shook his head. “How are you all just okay with this?”

“Because the alternative would have been worse.” Hanin’s voice projected far more confidence than he felt, but when Darren turned those shocked eyes on him, something wavered. “Thata doesn’t mean it was right. Or just.”

“Then what does it mean?”

“It was necessary.”

Sometimes, when people change how they see you, it happens slowly and silently. Often, it’s strung out over a long series of events; events that form a picture different to what they imagined. Eventually, painfully, they realise, with ever-increasing clarity, that you were never that picture to start with.

But sometimes, it happens in the span of a sentence.

And Hanin knew. As Darren looked away, defeat written in the the curve of his shoulders, he knew he had lost something. Something important. Something that had been freely given the moment he was introduced to the young man as his Captain.

Trust.

There had never been a moment where Darren questioned him. Argued with him. Defied him. But this time, it was different. This time, the young man couldn’t seem to find a way to agree, even though part of him was undoubtedly desperate to. He couldn’t find a way to justify what had happened, even if it meant standing his ground alone. Even if it meant going against the word of his Captain. Even if it meant questioning what he was told to be true.

And, with all the doubt he carried, Hanin couldn’t help but feel that was for the best.

#dragon age fanfiction #grand theft athran #hanin lavellan #athran lavellan #the dawn squad #dorian pavus #varlen lavellan #cw: violence #cw: mentions of abuse #cw: minor character death #part 7 #hanin angst #darren angst

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exceptone · 4 years

Text

“How is he kicking all three of our asses by himself?”

“It’s her unique magic,” Pietro replies, chest heaving. “No magic we’ve thrown at her gets through that barrier.”

Piper groans and pushes herself up to stand. “I mean, Great - Grandpa Ailbhe is three times older than all of us combined.”

Pryor starts to grumble, “She’s never used her unique magic when we sparred before. That’s definitely che —”

“Enough banter!” The oldest sibling’s voice is a frantic shout. “Pryor, we need to move!”

Pryor’s arm is around Piper’s waist before she can blink; she sees him grab Pietro with his other arm and then, faster than a breath, they’re halfway across the courtyard. The spot they’d just been in just a moment prior EXPLODES in a ring of flame and fire that reaches towards the setting sun above them. Piper watches Pyror’s expression go mock - horrified, all dramatics, as he unceremoniously drops his siblings.

“WHAT THE HELL, OLD MAN?” Piper giggles helplessly from the ground while Pietro sits up and shoots him a horrified look. “ARE YOU ACTUALLY TRYING TO KILL US?”

Ailbhe laughs from the other end of the yard. “Of course not, sweethearts!” she says back; her voice carries without needing to shout to account for the distance. “Just trying to motivate you!”

“Old man? Show her some respect!” Pietro snaps.

“I would, but he’s — SHIT.” Pryor grabs his siblings once again, Piper this time ending up under his arm like a suitcase, and darts — she’s more than used to it, but she remembers the first time he’d held her while he used his unique magic, and how terrifying it was.

They make it out of the blast zone with less time this go around; Piper feels her bare feet get singed and bites back a curse. When Pyror stops, not letting go of them this time, she growls as her hand waves; flame manifests behind the old fae. When it fires at her, though, it meets the dome - like barrier of magic that surrounds her and dissipates uselessly. Their grandparent laughs.

“Now, come on, darlings. You’re the ones who asked to spar! Inviting your frail old great - grandma to fight when she lets your all visit her...” He sniffles, as though put upon. “And now you’re not even putting up a fight.”

Pietro scowls; the wand in his hand spins and thin flicks to the side. A large decorative boulder lifts and hurls itself at the fae; she effortlessly dodges.

Wait.

“Pietro, try something for me,” Piper says suddenly, voice hushed so that her great - grandfather won’t be able to hear it. “Try to summon fire inside her barrier.”

“What good will that do? He’ll just cancel it.”

“Just —”

Pryor shouts “Hang on!” and cuts them both off; they snap across the field just in time to avoid being burnt to a crisp. Some of her hair’s not so lucky. And she doesn’t have much of it left.

“Just try it! You’re the only one with magic strong enough!” she snaps at Pietro. “We can’t spend the whole fight dodging!”

“She’s right,” Pyror gasps. “I can’t keep using my unique magic. I’ve only got a few more Flash Steps in me.”

Pietro’s lips thin; and then he nods. He releases the two of them — Piper folds into a crouch upon the ground, as though prepared to leap forward, and Pietro stands straighter. “Pour all your magic into it,” Piper whispers, and he nods again.

“Got it.” His eyes go bright and his teeth grit — and he lets out a gasp when the flame manifests and BREATHES, even if just for a moment. It’s snuffed out quickly by the barrier’s magic, long before it can do any damage, but Piper’s grin goes sharp and cruel nevertheless.

Pryor laughs at the look. “Looks like baby sister has a plan for us, Pietro.”

“Extremely powerful magic can be used inside the barrier, even if only for a few seconds,” she gasps quickly, eyes darting.

“If it was as simple as that, I’d just ice her down,” Pietro says, “but I could barely keep the flame going.”

“Physical things can get through,” she gasps quickly, eyes darting. “Magic only lasts for a second, but that’s all your unique magic takes. He’s been dodging stones and debri, not blocking them with the barrier. If one of us is quick enough to get inside —”

“Pryor’s the fast one, not me,” Pietro says.

“But I don’t have to be the fast one,” Pryor says, eyes widening.

Piper’s voice is frantic, hushed and quick. “Pyror, next time you dodge with us us, let me —”

“MOVE!” Pietro shouts and instantly Pyror’s arm is around her body; but they’ve got less time this go around, and he can’t quite get the grip he needs before the magic is dragging him away. Piper’s eyes widen, and his do the same.

He drops her. He’s halfway across the yard, still grasping Pietro, but Piper doesn’t come with this time. The flame explodes under her and sends her flying with a scream — Pryor drops Pietro and Flash Steps nearer to catch her before she can slam into a wall. Her head lolls against him as he drops to a knee, eyes drawing closed.

“Piper! Shit, shit, I’m so sorry.” Her eyes don’t open. “Pietro, go get help!” She can hear her older brother’s footsteps bolting in the opposite direction; Pryor shakes her gently. “Piper!”

Ailbhe’s voice is frail and worried — she doesn’t move closer, but she does say, “Piper? Sweetheart?”

Her eyes peel open; she manages a drowsy smile for Pryor as he grabs her hand. It’s limp in his, exhausted and weak. She turns her head to gaze at the old fae, for all that her vision is hazy; the barrier around her remains, shimmering against reality. The old man suspects.

But that’s fine.

Out of the corner of her eye — Pietro. Running closer, coming up behind the fae. A drowsy smirk tugs at her lips.

“Got you,” she mutters.

Ailbhe‘s eyes widen; her gaze snaps to Pietro, a few yards behind her. The ground bursts to flame beneath his feet with a wave of her hand, but he’s not there any longer.

“Should I be worried that he’s this much better with my magic than he was last time?” Pryor mutters, and Piper laughs faintly.

Pietro reappears within the barrier, and even from this distance, Piper can see his grin. And Ailbhe’s shock. Pietro pulls his arm back as it wreathes itself in twisting magic, and the man’s unique magic breathes long enough for him to slam his fist into Ailbhe’s stomach. She flies and slams, hard, into the wall on the far side of the courtyard.

“Winners!” Pryor shouts just as Piper gasps out, “Release!” Her physical strength floods her body again, and Pryor sags against her as she pushes herself up. “Oh, man,” he mutters. “Feels good to have my magic again.”

“Feels good to have my muscles back,” Piper shoots back, standing and then helping him to do the same.

Pietro jogs to meet their grandparent; his triumphant laugh echoes throughout the space. Piper laughs, too, hands behind her head as she and Pryor make their way nearer. They meet his side as he pulls Ailbhe to stand; the fae is unharmed, and giggles with almost manic delight as she brushes debri from the now - fractured wall out of her hair.

“Well, look at you three!” he crows, hovering above the ground and flying into the air to loop the loop a few times with glee. “You finally beat me!”

“So the score’s what, now?” Piper laughs.

“Maybe like three - hundred to one,” Pietro shoots back. Ailbhe laughs again.

“You three did well! Excellent team work. Which one of you came up with that plan?”

“That was all baby sis,” Pryor says, slapping her back; she winces. The fairy’s eyes drift to Piper.

“Faking injury from my attack to mask the weakness you suffer when you use your unique magic was very smart.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t quite get the barrier up in time,” Piper says, smiling a little pained. “So the injury wasn’t entirely fake.”

“I didn’t even know you could use barriers!” Ailbhe exclaims, feet settling back on the ground.

“We — uh, we learned it in school recently.”

“Not many would have that much skill with it already. You’re working hard.”

“It wasn’t that much,” she says, eyes lowering; praise feels unfamiliar and a little bit wrong. “I just stole Pryor’s magic and gave it to Pietro so he could be fast enough to get close.”

“You did not just do that. You successfully figured out that my barrier only protects against magic, not objects or people, and that very strong magic can still exist within it for a few seconds. And then you constructed a split second plan to get one of your brothers close to me, making use of both Pryor’s speed and Pietro’s strength.” Piper’s head lowers further, and she bites hard at her lip. “If only you’d been born a few generations back; you’d have made an excellent strategist in the war.”

The girl is silent; Pietro’s hand rests on her suddenly shuddering shoulders. Ailbhe stops short in her praise and, after a beat lets out a low sigh, stepping closer. His hands find Piper’s cheeks and lift her head to look at him; he’s not surprised to feel warm tears against his palms.

“You did very well, darling.” Piper nods, lips twisting, but can’t bring herself speak. Ailbhe‘s eyes well, too, when she pulls the girl nearer for a hug.

#pipers not Close 2 her grandparents or great grandparents — they encouraged some of her Mischief which her parents didnt like — but #she loves em nevertheless #her great grandparent ailbhe is fully fae and also the one who taught piper the swears #drabbles.#this was mostly for me i wanted to bang out how well the kids can communicate and plot and also how fucking smart piper is #and how hard she works and how seriously she takes magic despite it all #i used 2 have a tentative fc for ailbhe but i dont remember who tf it was

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 5 years

Text

Book One: Death (Noctis x Reader) Chapter Nineteen

With help from Aranea, the four were able to get aid from two men-Biggs and Wedge. The men were now the new conductors of the train and would help the boys and Death reach Gralea. On board the train and departing Tenebrae, Noctis and (Y/n) were in the cabin. The boy had fallen asleep while the Horseman stood in front of the window, watching the snowy scenery zip by. In all the years she'd been a human and a Horseman, this was her first time seeing snow. Although she lived her entire life in Altissia, it never snowed in the beautiful, floating city due to the year-round warm temperatures.

The train suddenly lurches to a halt, causing (Y/n) to lose her balance and fall on the floor. She groaned in pain just as Noctis awoke from his slumber. He climbed off the bed with furrowed brows. "The hell was that?"

"Attention, eh!" Biggs' voice bellows over the loudspeaker.

"Yeah?" Noctis sighed.

"You may have noticed we've stopped. As for the cause... Outside, ya think?"

"We'll take a look." Noctis and (Y/n) left the cabin and headed to the passenger car to regroup with Gladio and Ignis. The Horseman offered Ignis a hand, the strategist gladly accepting her help.

"Hope it's just a quick snow-shoveling job," Gladio huffs as he follows behind Noctis.

"Indeed," Ignis said, gripping Death's hand gently.

Outside of the train, the snowstorm grew stronger and proved to be an obstacle due to the low visibility. "It's freezing!" Noctis hissed, rubbing his hands up and down his arms to create some friction. "Death would even call this cold."

Realizing what he said, (Y/n) broke into a fit of laughter. "Death happens to be walking right behind you."

"Better keep moving to stay warm," Gladio stated.

The raven-haired boy glanced over at (Y/n), still unable to believe this cold wasn't bothering her especially with how much skin her outfit showed. "You're seriously not cold?"

"Nope," the Horseman responded with a smirk.

"The Glacian did this," Ignis suddenly said as (Y/n) released him.

Noctis turned his head, narrowing his eyes as he spotted a large, frozen silhouette in the darkness. "I think I can see her."

Shiva's lifeless face can be seen in the snow beyond the tracks, looming ominously in the shadows of the snowstorm. "It's a shame. She's lying dead," Gladio said. "Damn, it's cold!"

"Let's clean up out here, warm up in there," Noctis stated.

"Better make this snappy."

Out of the blue, the four were attacked by several daemons. They all summoned their weapons and quickly disposed of the nuisances. After slaying the creatures, Noctis stands outside the train, trying to catch his breath beside (Y/n). From the doorway of the train, Gladio leans out and eyes the couple. "Hey, Noct, (Y/n)! You both better get in here. Something's not right."

Noctis headed to the train, but when he saw (Y/n) wasn't following, he turned and called out to the girl. "(Y/n)?"

Death was staring up at the sky, watching as the snow fell. She had been enamored by the sight that she didn't hear Gladio or Noctis call her name. Trying again, the prince called out to her and finally grabbed her attention. "Huh?"

"C'mon. Let's get back on the train," he said.

"Oh," she gasped. "Right."

Noctis and (Y/n) begin to board the train when they spot a figure walking down the aisle of the car. "No way," the boy muttered before rushing up the stairs to chase the figure. "You! Hold it! That son of a bitch."

Unlike Noctis, (Y/n) wasn't able to get a clear view of who it was. She stormed up the steps and into the passenger car, following behind the now furious boy. Peering past him, she recognized the chancellor from anywhere.

Entering the next passenger car, the duo found it to be filled with mist and a frigid breeze. "What the hell?" Noctis murmured as goosebumps appeared on his arms.

Making their way into the next car, Noctis opens the door, only to be buffeted by snow and cold winds again. (Y/n) felt the cold nipping at her skin, but it proved to be no hindrance due to her deathly complexion. Wrapping his arms around himself, Noctis struggles through each step to keep advancing down the aisle towards Ardyn. "Stop! Stop, dammit! Where is he? Where's Prompto?"

(Y/n) clutched onto the back of Noctis' jacket as he struggled to reach the chancellor through the blizzard in the train car. "Oh, there you are! I'm worried about your friends. They've fallen and they can't get up. Why not lend them a hand?" Ardyn smirked, the snow being no obstacle for the man. Noctis and (Y/n) manage to get a few feet from Ardyn. Beyond the chancellor, Noctis can see Ignis and Gladio on the floor, covered in ice and unmoving.

"A coldness that can only be hers," the couple heard Ardyn murmur.

Noctis falls to his knees, but (Y/n) was able to support his body with her own as she wrapped an arm around his waist and kneeled beside him. Her inky locks whipped through the frigid breeze, closing her (e/c) eyes as the dry, cold wind irritated them. The boy's vision begins to blur, but he was able to make out the silhouette of a woman in the doorway past Ignis and Gladio. Ardyn turns and realizes Gentiana a few feet away. His expression momentarily becomes one of surprise, then becomes dull. "Ahh, the face you wore the day you-"

Gentiana touches her index finger to her lips, then touches Ardyn's lips. Instantly, the man's entire body was encased in ice. "Let it now be done... as promised to the Oracle," the woman said as she walked towards Noctis and (Y/n). Her body was enveloped by a flash of blue and white light. As the light fades, the form of Shiva has taken Gentiana's place.

Noctis was shocked at the revelation. "Gentiana-it's you. You're the Glacian. Wha-"

"O King of Kings, restore Light unto the world," the Astral spoke, interrupting the prince. She raises her hands and conjures the Trident of the Oracle. She hands it to Noctis, who leans forward and grasps it. Shiva vanished in another blur of light.

With the newly acquired weapon, the boy approaches the frozen Ardyn with gritted teeth. Using the trident, Noctis impales and shatters the chancellor's frozen body. "Damn you."

(Y/n) walks up to Noctis, placing a hand on his back. He looked over his shoulder, offering a gentle smile. She smiles in return and glances at their friends. "Let's check on the others."

Noctis nods and stumbles onto the floor as he made his way over to his shield and advisor, the weapon disappearing from his hands. "Hey. Wake up."

Gladio and Ignis stirred, slowly getting to their feet. "The hell happened?" The brute groaned.

"Had an encounter with Shiva herself. She's gone now," (Y/n) answered.

"You guys check on our drivers," Noctis added.

"Got it." Gladio turns to Ignis and places his hand on his shoulder. "You good?"

The tactician nodded, grabbing his cane. "Yes, I'm fine. Let's go." Noctis remains on the floor as they leave. (Y/n) stood a few feet behind him, staring down at him in utter silence.

After Gladio and Ignis were out of sight, a spectral image of someone appears before them. (Y/n) didn't recognize the beautiful woman who stood before them, but Noctis knew the phantom all too well and muttered her name. "Luna."

Noctis slowly rises to his feet and reaches out to Luna. (Y/n) watches in awe at the scene, this being her first time seeing the Oracle. Luna smiles brightly and warmly at Noctis as he reaches out to touch her. Just as his hand was about to make contact with her arm, she vanishes.

Noctis falls forward when the phantom vanishes. As he sits back up, sylleblossom petals float into his open palm. He clenches his fist around the ghostly image and begins to cry. "It's so hard. Guess it was hard for you, too. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you."

(Y/n) wrapped her arms around Noctis the moment he turned to face her, hoping to comfort him. In response, the boy snaked his arms around her small frame and pulled her flush against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, trying to drown out his sniffles. Death could feel his tears cascading down her neck and shoulder, but she didn't mind one bit.

After a prolonged silence, Noctis released (Y/n) and lifted his head. Staring into her (e/c) eyes with determination. "I won't fail you like I did Luna, (Y/n)."

The Horseman got lost in Noctis' pools of lapis. "You didn't fail her, Noctis, and I know you'll never fail me, either. You should listen to your own advice sometimes," she giggled, placing a small peck on his lips. Noctis smiled, grabbed Death's hand, and took her to the next train car.

Halfway down the aisle, the eerie presence returned. (Y/n) turned to where they just came from and spotted a smirking Ardyn. "I feel I've earned the right to call you Noct. For a moment I felt death's chill wind, such is the might of the gods. But then, I remembered I'm immortal. Such is my blessing and curse. I am the same as the beautiful maiden that wields your heart, but we suffer from different malediction. Your attack hurt me, nevertheless..." The man's smirk suddenly turns into a fierce scowl and his voice becomes something of a growl. "My feelings at least."

(Y/n) couldn't help but chuckle. "You and I may both be immortal, but we are nothing alike. All I see before me is a pitiful man who thirsts for blood and will only be satisfied once he's atop the food chain."

Death's words caused the fire in Ardyn's gaze to fester. "Might you be careful where you are prowling, my dear. 'Tis mighty thin ice that will crack with the gentlest of touches."

"And you are treading in dangerous territory yourself, Chancellor. Be wary for you might wander into a swarm of daemons who will swallow you whole."

Ardyn chuckled at her response. "The kitten has claws and is not afraid to walk in the shadows. Death has changed you, (Y/n)-for the better, might I add. You have steeled your heart, but it still crumbles for one man alone." The chancellor's gaze fell upon Noctis, who tugged on the Horseman's arm and placed himself in front of her.

"What the hell do you want?" The prince hissed, glaring daggers at the amber-eyed man.

"Remember this?" Ardyn raises a familiar gun, Noctis and (Y/n) recognizing it as Prompto's pistol. The couple gasped as Ardyn grinned menacingly. "Ah, I should have asked if you remember him. Truly a blast from the past, nay?"

Ardyn casually walks up to Noctis and places the side of the gun against his chest. The boy tries to grab it, but the chancellor pulls it away and turns his back to them. "Ah, ah, ah! You mustn't take what's not yours."

"Where is he?!" Noctis demanded, voice brimming with anger.

Ardyn raised a brow. ""He"?" The man turns back to face Noctis and (Y/n). "The little gunman's a short shot away." The man raises his finger and points as if he were firing a gun.

"Where?" Noctis growled.

"Where else but Gralea, the seat of the empire? I'm sure he'll be delighted to see you. And you might even find your Crystal. With all these daemons about, you could certainly use it."

Ardyn walks past Noctis, deliberately pushing past him as he does so, then comes to a stop. "Off you go, then. I wouldn't want to keep you from your friend. Though, I do wish to make a new addition to my new collection." He raises the pistol, aims it at (Y/n), and pulls the trigger. Death wasn't able to dodge as the bullet went straight through her head before she could even register the projectile heading her way.

Noctis' eyes widened in shock and fear as he watched (Y/n)'s body collapse with a hole in the middle of her forehead. Blood streamed from the small opening as the prince fell to his knees beside her. He knew she was immortal, but he wasn't sure how severe a bullet to the head was. He placed his hands on the Horseman's cheeks and turned her head to stare into her now lifeless eyes. "(Y-Y/n)...?"

"A wound such as that shall take time." Ardyn raises his right hand, in which he is holding a small device. He presses a button on the small box-like object with his thumb. Then, he kicks Noctis in the side and his body went rolling down the aisle.

Grunting in pain, Noctis slowly pushed his upper body off the floor only to see Ardyn taking (Y/n)'s lifeless body in his arms. Gritting his teeth, the prince scrambled to his feet. "You bastard-let her go!"

When Noctis tried to summon a weapon, nothing appeared in his hand. Confused, he stared down at his empty hands. Ardyn took advantage of the boy's confused state and delivered another kick-this time, the target being the boy's gut. Noctis fell on his back and the wind was knocked out of him. The chancellor smirked as he held Death's body. "Ta-ta, Your Majesty!"

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #final fantasy xv x reader #noctis x reader #noctis lucis caelum

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eccacia · 7 years

Text

Everybody Wants to Rule the World

Notes: So, I watched 3x20 a few hours ago and I saw @briarsrosie‘s post on “when your flashfrost villain au comes to life” and I was so inspired by that that I sat down to write something (when I should really be sleeping)... Also, I read someone’s post speculating on how Savitar gave KF her clothes, so I incorporated that too. I’m really sorry but I can’t remember the source. I’d love it if you let me know so I can link it here.

Title is the song “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Lorde (originally by Tears for Fears). I listened to Lorde on loop while writing this. It’s an amazing cover and it does wonders for setting the mood.

Rating: T

Word Count: ~2,300

Welcome to your life There’s no turning back Even while we sleep We will find you Acting on your best behavior Turn your back on Mother Nature Everybody wants to rule the world

He’s watching her.

She knows this even with her back turned to him, even with his suit locked in place, even with the mask shuttered over his eyes. He is always watching her, and he has never tried to hide it.

“So this is your little hideout,” she drawls, running fingers over the grimy metal, leaving a trail of frost in their wake. “A bit of a dump, but I suppose it will do.”

“I’ve brought you clothes,” he says. He throws a sack onto the floor. “Wear them.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “A costume? Really?”

“Unless you want to stay in Caitlin Snow’s clothes?” he returns.

She looks down on what she’s wearing. A tight pencil skirt, a hideous top, and a torn lab coat. She frowns. “No. This is appalling.”

“Then wear these.”

“You could have at least handed them to me like a proper gentleman,” she mutters. She summons ice to bring the sack to her.

He lets out a sound that could have been a snort. “In every Earth I’ve been to, men found the need to be gentlemen because they believed women to be weaker. That they must be handled with care.”

It’s the longest sentence he’s spoken to her so far, and against her will, her lips curve into a smile.

She runs a hand over the fabric. It’s soft, lightweight, and durable, and clearly not from this Earth. “So does that mean that you won’t even look away?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Suit yourself,” she says, turning her back to him. She tosses Caitlin Snow’s lab coat away and gathers her hair to one side, and then, with a brief glance at his stony gaze, she untucks the blouse. She pulls it over her head in one fluid motion. She unzips the tight little pencil skirt and lets it pool to the floor around her ankles. She daintily steps out of them, and then she slides the dress he’d given her up her legs and over her bare torso.

“A perfect fit,” she says, running her hands over where the dress narrows to hug the curves of her waist. She turns to face him. “A little too perfect. How do you know my measurements?”

He does not look away, but he does not acknowledge her question, either. “You are to kill Tracy Brand tomorrow,” he says. “She will be at CCU. Do not fail me.”

And then he disappears.

The wind he leaves in his wake displaces Caitlin Snow’s clothes on the floor, flattens them against the walls, tucks them into dark corners.

She raises a hand. Frost crawls over the grimy, blood-stained clothes.

When she balls her hand into a fist, they shatter into pieces.

ii.

It’s my own desire It’s my own remorse

His interest in her is purely instrumental.

He tells himself this. He tells himself that it will be much crueler for them to be hurt by her hand than by his. He tells himself that he is only using her to bring them pain. He tells himself that she is to him as the queen is to the skilled chess player—the most powerful piece in his army, but a dispensable piece, nonetheless.

He tells himself this, but his eyes betray him.

When he watches her, he watches her not like a strategist moving pieces on a board; no, he watches her with hungry eyes. Her power is intoxicating. It’s raw and untrained, but so palpable that when she summons her frost, the air thrums with it. The temperature drops when she walks into a room. The ground she treads on freezes. Any liquid around her coalesces into ice as clear as glass.

He’d watched Caitlin Snow valiantly try to contain Killer Frost, but this sheer volume of power was never meant to be contained; it even leaked from her now, when she was not consciously wielding it. He had freed her, and she now she thrives. She flourishes. And she is even more powerful than he’d last remembered—because, even if he’d already been through all this before, there are always little details like this, like her, that manage to escape the prison of time.

He watches her now, from afar. She is looking at her hands. She has been staring at them for a long time.

No doubt Caitlin Snow is still struggling within her; no doubt she has not completely separated herself from her. No matter. It will take time. Once she makes a kill, Caitlin Snow will forever be silenced.

He sees her glance at the metal handrail. She lifts her hand. It turns into ice. She makes a fist, and cracks crisscross it, until it splinters and disintegrates into thin air.

She smiles a slow, feral smile.

iii.

Help me to decide Help me make the most of freedom And of pleasure Nothing ever lasts forever Everybody wants to rule the world

She fails to make the kill.

She is not afraid of Savitar’s wrath, but she cannot bear her own shame.

“Maybe there is more of Caitlin Snow in you than you led me to believe,” he’d told her. His suit had still been locked in, his mask shuttered over his eyes.

She’d willed herself to be as unreadable as he, so she’d kept her expression blank. The only indication of weakness she’d shown was to look away when he drew near.

There is no more Caitlin Snow in her. She had killed Caitlin Snow. Caitlin Snow is her first kill. But then, why the hesitation? Why had she run? It would have been so easy—pierce Barry’s leg, freeze Cisco to the floor, pin HR to the wall. She’d rehearsed it in her mind the night before. She knew her game plan by heart.

Now, Savitar takes a step back from her. “Perhaps you have never used your powers with the intent to kill.”

“What are you insinuating?” she snaps. “That I can never kill them?”

“Not without practice.” He crosses his arms. “Come. Fight me.”

She glares at him. “Don’t order me around.”

“You can’t, can you?” he taunts. “Because deep inside, Caitlin Snow knows that I’m still Barry Allen.”

“I fought Barry Allen,” she grits out. “I injured him. I made sure it was painful.”

“But you cannot kill him.”

“Don’t waste my time,” she said. Ice swirls around her hands, and the frost crawls over the ground beneath her feet, worms into the cracks in the concrete, slithers over the rough surface. “If you wanted me to kill you, you should’ve said so from the start.”

And then she lunges at him.

He meets her head-on and knocks her to the ground.

The impact to her stomach has her on her knees, gasping for air.

She gives him a venomous look, and then she coats the entire room in ice. She seals all the exits. She conjures icicles on them a foot long, so he would shred his insides if he even dared to phase out.

She finishes this in five seconds.

He stays rooted to the spot, unmoving, watching her with the same air of disinterest.

Is he mocking her?

She narrows her eyes at him, and with her remaining strength, she traps him in a circle of jagged icicles. She lifts her hand. Ice coats the surface of his armor. She will break him open, she tells herself. She will destroy him. She will tear him apart limb for limb and then vanish him to vapor—

But even when she closes her hand into a fist and digs in her nails into her palm, even when she draws blood from the flesh of her hand, she cannot break him.

In the next second, he phases out of her trap, and he stands before her, armor unscratched and gleaming. “Good,” he says. “Had I been Barry, you would have already killed me. Now kill the girl.”

And then he vanishes.

She uncurls her hand.

She hadn’t coated the walls in icicles, she realizes belatedly. He’d phased out of the walls.

Her wound closes. She smirks.

“Well played, Savitar,” she murmurs. “Well played.”

Yes, she is ready.

. . .

But, later, when she would come face to face with Cisco, she would realize that she could never kill him. Cisco, who’d watched movies with me every night after Ronnie’s disappearance, and then after his death. Cisco, who’d held my hair back while I’d vomited in dingy bar restrooms. Cisco, my best friend through thick and thin. He only had to shout Caitlin’s name, and her powers would be swallowed back by that yawning chasm inside her, where Caitlin Snow’s consciousness resides.

Before she blacks out, she would realize that she had referred to Cisco as my best friend.

iv.

There’s a room where the light won’t find you Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down When they do, I’ll be right behind you So glad we’ve almost made it So sad we had to fade it Everybody wants to rule the world

He sees her hesitate.

It’s only for a moment, but to him, that moment is an eternity.

He sees it, and he knows that she’s going to retreat. This would have been the second time she’d failed him. And her task had been so easy, too—she merely had to conjure an icicle from the ground to spear into Tracy’s body—but it seems that she’s more intent on proving to herself that she could hurt her friends without feeling any of Caitlin Snow’s remorse.

He does not tolerate failure. He’s had years to perfect his plans, after all, and even if he has experienced this all before, he wants to do things a little differently this time. He’d told himself that if she fails him a second time, he would dispose of her himself.

Yet when he sees that they are about to take her away, he is consumed by a sudden icy rage. They can’t take her away—she is his now, and her place is by his side. They. Cannot. Take. Her.

He is at the scene in the next second. He growls out a threat, and even as he does so he has to restrain himself from ripping all their throats from their bodies.

Her motionless form also stills his hand.

He gathers her limp body carefully into his arms. He tucks her head into his chest to shield her from the air pressure, and then he takes her back to their dingy hideout.

When he passes the doorway, he slows. He places her on a metal bed.

He folds into a crouch, disassembles his armor, and emerges from it a man.

With his human hands, he touches her wrist and searches for a pulse.

He’s seen himself go through these motions already, but he doesn’t expect to still feel the fear that rises in his chest as he waits for the whisper of her heartbeat.

. . .

When she comes to, the first thing she sees is a scarred face and familiar green eyes.

And then she looks down and sees that she is strapped down to a metal table.

“Relax,” he says. His voice, without the echo of his suit, sounds smaller, more intimate.

She looks up at him again, startled.

He is a man again, flesh and bone, soft and breakable. His expression is blank but his green eyes betray his undivided attention. “You were having seizures from Cisco’s vibes.”

The memories rush back in, and she shuts her eyes.

She hears him unclasp her restraints.

She blinks. She moves her fingers, and then her hands and legs. And then she mutely straightens into a sitting position.

She feels weak. She can hardly even support her own weight.

“Can you speak?”

She looks up at him. His human face and his deep green eyes are so achingly familiar that she feels a pang in her heart. She cannot bear to look at him when he’s so painfully human.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” she begins. She casts her eyes down to her hands. “I couldn’t sleep last night because Caitlin Snow was worried about you.”

He is silent.

“She wants to know why there’s so much hatred in you. She wants to know where you’d gotten that scar, why it doesn’t heal.” She takes a deep breath. “She’s… she’s still a part of me.”

He gives her a measured look.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally says. “You will be rid of her eventually, as long as you stay my ally.” He pauses. “Will you?”

She huffs. “Of course.”

“Good.” He moves closer to her. “And you will not betray me.”

“No. Not as long as I’m Killer Frost.”

He touches his fingers to her chin and smiles. “Good,” he says again, before pulling her in for a searing kiss.

She gasps. The effect on her is instantaneous—suddenly she feels the heady taste of heat in her mouth, flooding her system, rushing through her blood; she feels her strength return, and with it a drastic drop in the temperature of the room.

She slants her mouth over his. His tongue sweeps into her mouth. She tangles her hands in his hair, and she pulls away for a second to slam him into a nearby pillar. Her blood is boiling.

She has never felt so alive.

He runs his hands down the length of her body and nips at her ear. “Someone’s hungry,” he rasps.

She hums. “Ravenous.”

He smirks at her and flips their positions, so that now her back is against the wall and he is towering over her. She pulls him towards her by the lapels of his black jacket and wraps her legs around his waist. “Well,” she says breathily, intoxicated by the energy emanating from him in waves, “at least now I know how you got my measurements.”

His responding smile is sly, but he says nothing. Instead his hands leave trails of heat up her legs as they inch closer and closer to the hem of her dress.

She supposes that that is a good enough response.

. . .

They wreak havoc in the city the next day, and the day after that, and the week after that. Together are unstoppable.

Eventually, of course, Team Flash prevails. Caitlin comes to her senses, and she seals Killer Frost away in that dark place inside of herself.

But even then, Caitlin will look back those days with him, and even before she’s overcome by crippling guilt and shame, she will remember that rush of exhilaration, that power thrumming in her blood, that headiness of having the entire city in the palm of her hand.

#flashfrost #snowbarry #flashfrost fic #snowbarry fic #barry x caitlin #savitar x kf???#barry allen #killer frost #caitlin snow #3x20 #my fic

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