#va fic

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“I still think about it.”

“What?”

He’s tucking her blankets up under her chin and she’s staring at him, pupils blown from the drugs and the darkness.

“Us.”

He hesitates. It feels unethical to ask her for more information, even though his curiosity is piqued. He thinks he knows where she’s going with this. Us. Such a little word to hold so much weight. “You’re not thinking straight,” he says gently instead, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “You’re high.”

She hums pleasantly, turning into his touch. “Do you still think about us?”

“I try not to,” he answers honestly. But yes. All the time.

“What a waste,” she mumbles as she burrows into the comforter.

He smiles and hums affirmation, but his heart grows heavy with the sentiment.

“We would have been so good together,” she continues, her voice muffled but her bright eyes still on his face.

Dimitri checks the time on his phone as an excuse to look away. “It’s late,” he tells her, wondering if she has noticed how odd his voice sounds when he says it. “You should go to sleep.”

“Do you ever think about elephants?”

That startles a laugh out of him.

“If we didn’t know about elephants they would be really weird. They have such long noses.”

“They do,” he agrees, indulging her drug-addled thoughts.

“I should go to sleep.”

He’s starting to wonder if she’s just talking to herself and he’s just along for the ride. “That’s a good idea.”

“Kiss me first?” she asks innocently.

“No,” he answers, smiling. “Go to sleep.”

“What about a hug?”

“Roza,” he says her name in an exasperated sigh. The temptation to be close to her is always at the back of his mind. How easy it would be to slip up, just for a moment. This could be one of those moments.

“Please?” Rose presses, pouting.

He leans in, touching the side of his face to hers awkwardly. Her arms snake out from under the covers and lock around his neck.

“Gotcha,” she whispers playfully in his ear. He shivers as her breath plays across his neck and beats back the amoral side of him that is suggestively making note of the way she has pulled herself against him.

He tries to pull away, but the drugs haven’t had any impact on her grip strength. She clings to his neck stubbornly, holding him down.

“Rose,” he warns disapprovingly, moving his hands over hers as he tries to wrest her away from him.

“Dimitri,” she answers, mimicking his chastising growl.

“I’m stronger than you,” he says pointedly. His fingers are working at hers, trying to find leverage.

“I’m faster,” she returns boastfully. It’s not really true, but he doesn’t correct her when she pulls away, moving her hands in faux karate chops. Her lips are pursed and her cheeks are puffed with air as she makes sound effects to go along with her movements.

He extricates himself from the bed quickly, smothering a smile. It takes her a moment to process that she’s accidentally released him.

“Damn,” she mumbles, letting her hands fall to her face.

A swell of affection warms his chest as he watches her. Like always, it’s sincere and full of earnest friendship. Tinged with something deeper, awestruck and compelling. As though he has a higher power to thank for her simply existing in proximity to him. It’s so much more than platonic, but he’s afraid to look too closely at what that is.

Day 19: Believe

Thank you @queenlissa for the inspo on this one because i had nothing 😅

(slight context: guardian trials in a dimitri was never turned au)

“Are you meditating?”

Rose, leant against the wall of the barracks, forced her fingers to stop drumming against the fresh wood and cracked open an eye to find Dimitri standing, arms folded and imposing, before her.  She opened the other eye and grinned at him, allowing her gaze to drift over him for one, long, delicious second to distract herself from the other students and instructors milling around.

“Struggling not to fall asleep,” she lied just to make him frown.

She was rewarded with a crease forming between his eyebrows and he shook his head, even as some of tension in his shoulders eased at her joking tone.  “Rose,” he said, moving closer, and it wasn’t quite a chastisement but there was something warning in his tone.  “You need to take this seriously.”

Rose rolled her eyes half-heartedly but her smile widened.  “Please,” she scoffed.  “You and I both know I could do this blindfolded.  Hell, maybe I will.”  She threw him a suggestive look despite their audience and practically purred, “And maybe I’ll let you take it off for me later.”

His eyes darkened at the implication of her words, at the thought of the celebration they could have later, just the two of them, for the trials that were closer to a graduation for her than any ceremony would be.  Then he shook his head, muttering something in Russian that sounded like a plea for patience.

Dimitri’s arrival had been a welcome distraction but even he couldn’t stop her wince when a loud cheer, followed by a low groan, rose up from the crowd looking down on the arena just on the other side of the barracks.  She gritted her teeth and forced herself not to twist around and look, not join those crowding the doorway to see what their classmate had done to trigger that reaction.  Rose focused her gaze straight ahead and tried to summon a sense of calm back to her.

Dimitri, careful eyes not missing a detail, eyed her with renewed concern.  “Rose,” he said, too purposefully for her to ignore.  “You’re going to be fine.”

“Of course, I am,” she said, but the bravado from moments ago was gone from her voice.

Dimitri glanced around at the others sharing the space, before sliding an arm around her shoulders and nudging her in the opposite direction of the arena until they were alone outside.

“Talk to me, Rose,” he said quietly, as she leant against the wall and ducked her head.  He put one hand on the wall beside her head, wishing she would meet his eye but she remained steadfastly staring at the ground.

“What if I screw up?”

The words were barely more than a whisper, but they clanged through Dimitri so that he couldn’t help but bring up his other hand to trace it down the side of her face, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“Why would you think you’re going to screw up?  You’re so talented-”

A frustrated sigh escaped Rose and she leaned away from him, folding her arms with a scowl.  But he instinctively knew that it wasn’t him she was angry with.

“Yeah, I’m talented, that’s what everyone always says, but what good is talent if I can’t use it at the right time?”

“You’re talented,” Dimitri said again, as if she hadn’t interrupted.  “But more than that you’ve put in the hard work, Rose.  You’ve studied, and you’ve trained, and I know you’re going to do well.”

Her mouth twisted but there was a shrewd kind of hope shining in her eyes as she finally looked up to meet his gaze.  “You believe in me?”

“Of course I do.”

Rose pressed her lips together and glanced away but this time Dimitri thought it was a different emotion she was suppressing this time.  “No one’s ever said that to me before,” she admitted, wrinkling her nose at her own vulnerability.

Before Dimitri could respond she looked back at him and reached up to slide a hand behind his neck as she rose up on her toes.  It was instinct to wrap an arm around her waist as she leaned in to press a sweet, unusually chaste, kiss to his lips.

“Okay,” she breathed once they separated only far enough for her to lean her forehead gently against his.  “Let’s do it.”

“You can do this,” he said firmly and she nodded.

She wasn’t at her usual level of Rose bravado but there was something more sure and settled in her as her eyes fluttered open and she nodded again, lowering back down but not looking away from him.

Sydney carried the brown paper bag in her arms tightly as she walked down the corridor. She’d spent the past hour in the grocery store, strolling through the fresh produce section before sneaking into the aisles. The bag was packed with whole foods, though she’d sprinkled in some snacks she’d remembered Adrian pouting over. A few treats couldn’t hurt, especially after the week he’d had. All day yesterday he’d been texting her, complaining about his boredom and lack of food in the cupboards. She’d been too busy with her assignments to respond. Ms. Terwilliger had practically run her off of her feet.

Sydney shifted slightly as she reached for her set of spare keys, opening the apartment door after a moment’s struggle. “Hey,” she called as she pushed the door open. “Guess who’s here to save yo-” The words caught in her throat. The bag of groceries dropped to the ground with a thud, and Sydney choked at the sight in front of her.

By popular demand. Road trip bonding set in Blood Promise.

“You got any tunes on this thing?” 

Sydney slapped her hand away from the dashboard without even looking away from the road. “No.”

“No?” Rose leaned down to untie her boots. They had been on the road to Baia for an hour and a half already, and the Alchemist was being incredibly withholding about how far they had left to go. So, she was gonna get comfy. Rose tucked her socked feet up and under her, without undoing her seatbelt. Sydney didn’t say anything, but Rose saw her nose wrinkle the tiniest bit. 

“You got something to say?”

“Are you going to listen?” said Sydney dryly. “I’d love to go into how rare those seat are, how expertly restored the leather is, how I don’t let anyone with even a drop of moisture or dirt on their clothes even into this car, but I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your feet, suddenly free of your shoes, up in my car.”

Rose stared at her. That was perhaps the longest Sydney had spoken in front of  her without the words ‘impure’ or ‘unholy creatures’. She raised an eyebrow, unfolding one leg and resting her foot up on the dashboard in front of her. “Better?”

The Alchemist’s didn’t blush when she was frustrated, but she did suck in her cheeks like she was trying to sip the thickest milkshake in the world through a straw the width of a pin. It was kinda cute. 

“I’ll put my shoes back on if you turn on the radio.”

Sydney glanced at her foot on the dash briefly. Rose wiggled her toes. “Fine, but I get veto rights. What do you want to listen to?”

Battle won. Who said Rose Hathaway could only fight Strigoi? “Anything but country. Or...music from the eighties. I don’t do retro.”

Sydney cocked her head, considering. She reached for the radio. “Well, it’s still retro, but what about classic rock? I think it’s less offensive than early Madonna, I guess.”

It fit her. Something about the Alchemist suggested cafe music, acoustic, but plenty of history. Rose didn’t know any musician names really, perks of growing up in pop culture isolation, but it still fit her. As she thought about this, she took a moment to really look at Sydney Sage, who’s shirt was buttoned so far up it had to be restricting her breathing a little. Rose looked down. She was dressed for a fight, but her neckline looked almost indecent compared to Sydney’s starchy vibe. The only thing that didn’t match the cream blouse, the tan dress pants, the simple accessories of a tiny cross and the golden lily itself, was the hair. If she had styled it a little differently, Rose would almost describe the short, layered cut as edgy. It was miles away from Lissa’s soft platinum princess waves. 

Rose grinned, teeth catching her lower lip. “Sure,” she said, but now that she noticed she had to say something. “I like your hair, by the way.” 

This time, Sydney went red. “Thanks,” she said hesitantly, as if Rose was joking. She turned the radio on, but everything was in Russian. Rose knew Sydney understood, but she kept flipping through stations, trying to find something in English. “I don’t get that comment often.”

“You should.” 

Huffing out a little laugh, Sydney shook her head. “It takes forever to look right, and the Alchemists aren’t a big fan of the organized chaos look. We don’t do sock buns.”

“What’s a sock bun?”

“Wow,” Sydney looked a little pleased. “Normally I’m the most out of touch in the room.”

Rose bared her teeth. “Yeah? I grew up in a fortress. In Montana. The only reason I know what internet it is cause I broke out and lived it up with the humans for two years.”

“Well, I’m from Utah,” returned Sydney. “I had the Dewey Decimal System memorized before I knew who Britney Spears was.”

Facing her, Rose leaned forward, grinning. “Who?”

That got her a real laugh. “Okay, this time I know you’re joking.”

“Maybe,” Rose settled back in her seat. “But let me tell you, Alchemist, the hair works. Trust me, I can spot a rebel a mile away, and well...”

This did not have the desired effect. Sydney clammed up, jaw snapping shut, eyes fixed firmly on the road. “I’m not a rebel,” she said stiffly.

Rose shrugged skeptically. “So you’re personally driving me to a blood whore town....just cause? Is that part of the God given cause?”

Sydney looked actually offended. “Of course not! The Alchemists would never condone those kinds of...settlements. I have no idea why you’d want to go there.”

“For someone I love,” said Rose, clamping down on the pain before it threatened to wreck what was left of her heart entirely. She resisted the urge to check in on Lissa, to escape thinking about this conversation. “Is that so hard to believe? That a dhampir, a non-human, a creature of the night or whatever, would risk everything for someone they loved?”

Something in the hard set of Sydney’s jaw relaxed. Just a tiny bit. “You aren’t the only one who’d go to the ends of the earth for someone you love.”

CORINTHIANS: CHAPTER TWELVE

“Don’t be so hard on her. Besides, I heard you and Stasla got up to some pretty unsanctioned activities back in your heyday.”

One month ago, a woman named Stasla Belikova died in the Ural Mountains.

Belikova was a ghost according to Court. She didn’t exist in the eyes of any database they put her name into, but what was a guardian with hundreds of molnija marks doing in a remote village on the Kazakh border?  

A young dhampir breaks into the queen’s bedchambers on a mission: someone inside Court killed her mother and she wants to find out who, starting with the decades-old murder of a guardian named Rose Hathaway.

Day 17: Darkness

part of a longer fic that you can find on my ao3 and ff.net.  this isn’t perfect but i’m sick of looking at it.  warning: my knowledge of therapy and ptsd is limited to my googling.

It’s taken Dimitri a while but he’s come to accept that there are always going to be days where it’s harder to outrun the darkness.

Dr Matthews, who he stills calls Dr Matthews no matter how many years he’s been his therapist or how many times he says Xavier is fine, shifts in the armchair opposite, chin cupped in his hand and notebook balance precariously on his knee.

“Do you want to tell me about last night?”

Not really, Dimitri wants to say but doesn’t because he’s older now, and those days of sessions spent in stoic silence are a thing of the distant past.  And besides, he’s the one who scheduled this emergency appointment.

“Not much to say,” Dimitri says, voice almost monotone as he looks out the window at the grey sky.  “My heavily pregnant wife, who’s not supposed to be exerting herself, had to call her best friend to help her with our sick toddler screaming for half the night because I was having…”

“A PTSD episode,” Dr Matthews supplies when he can’t finish.

“Yeah,” Dimitri sighs.

He shuts his eyes, cringing as the memory of the night before plays over and over in his mind; lying, frozen, in bed and listening to his daughter’s insistent cries but not going to her because he was terrified of what might happen when he picked her up.  Feeling Rose jolt awake beside him, seeing understanding chase away her lingering sleepiness and having to look away because he couldn’t handle the torn look on her face as she debated staying with him or going to their daughter.  Hearing her hiss of pain as she levered herself upright from the bed and the baby undoubtedly shifted against the pinched nerve in her back that had been plaguing her for weeks and hating himself even more.

“Do you think that’s how Rose would characterise last night?”

The question throws Dimitri enough for a loop that he stirs, looking away from the window and back to his doctor.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean do you think Rose would see it as her having to rely on someone else to help her with your daughter or would she see it as the community the two of you have built coming together to help support her partner through a PTSD episode.”

He has to fight against the impulse to protest, to automatically argue that he should have been stronger than that, should have been able to handle it.  Dr Matthews knows him well enough to know what’s currently running through his head because he smiles a little.

“Can I ask you something?”

Dimitri raises an eyebrow.  “That’s kind of why we’re here, Doctor Matthews.”

“How would you feel if one of your friends called you needing your help?  No more details than that, they just need your help right away, what would your response be?”

Dimitri huffs, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.  “Point taken, Doc.”

“Point taken?” Doctor Matthews prompts.

“That I hold myself to a higher standard than everyone else, and am more willing to offer help than to accept,” Dimitri says, repeating something he’s heard in this office countless times before.

Doctor Matthews’ smile widens slightly, “It’s a work in progress but keep at it.”  His eyes flick up to the clock.  “And that’s time, Dimitri.  We’ll go back to weekly sessions for the next little while?  Make sure this is an isolated incident.”

Dimitri breathes a sigh but nods.  “That’s probably for the best.”  The time between episodes has grown longer and longer, the last having been before Anastasia’s birth, so it’s hard to feel like this isn’t a setback.

“Alright, I’ll see you next week.  And just remember, when your community is trying to be there for you, try leaning in instead of pushing back.”

“Yeah,” Dimitri says, standing from the lounge.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He’s still running Doctor Matthews words over in his mind when he pulls up in the driveway of the house and hears the babble of voices coming from inside.  Hands still resting on the wheel, he almost backs right back out again, until he steels himself and opens the car door.

“Try leaning in instead,” he repeats.

So he puts one foot in front of the other as he mounts the front steps and pushes open the front door.  The first thing that hits him is the noise of a full house, the second being the two toddlers he almost trips over on his way through the door.

“Unca Mitri,” Hayden babbles, stopping short of chasing Mason around.

“What are you two monsters doing?” He takes a deep breath and forces himself to trust that his hands are gentle enough as he ruffles the soft hair on the crown of their heads.

“Monsters, monsters monsters,” they cheer, chasing one another in circles around his legs.

Dimitri chuckles and steps carefully between them to continue down the hall.  He encounters Sydney, who flashes him a friendly smile as she follows the sound of the toddlers.  When he steps into the living area, it’s a chaos of sound and movement.  Adrian, Eddie, and Mia are arguing over a hand of cards, Lissa is nursing newborn Rosalie, and chatting to Rose who’s propped up on a mountain of cushions on the lounge.

“Hey Belikov,” Christian says over the breakfast bar that separates the kitchen from the rest of the living room.  “I’m making bacon sandwiches, you want one?”

Dimitri smiles softly, appreciative of the clear attempt at normalcy.  His eyes find Rose, whose head has perked up at the sound of his name.  She’s rubbing her stomach with one hand while the other cradles Anastasia’s little head where she has her ear pressed to Rose’s stomach.  There’s a hint of worry in his wife’s face, and he knows she’s wondering if this is what he needs right now.

“Daddy daddy daddy,” Anastasia squeals in delight and Dimitri crosses the room to sweep her into his arms.

Day 15: Fire

holy crap, two updates in three days? who is this productive bitch? couldn't be me. truthfully this update would have been out last night but uh i was drinking and did not trust myself to finish editing and post it.

Every single muscle in Dimitri’s body locks up tight when the alarm starts to blare, loud and insistent, through St Vad’s. It takes him a long moment, but he realises that it isn’t a breachment alarm but a garden variety fire alarm. Not that that’s any less worry-inducing, but he is at least able to breathe again.

Yuri, with whom Dimitri is in the middle of sharing a coffee, turns to him, eyebrow raised in something between genuine concern and exasperation. They know it’s not a drill - they would have been alerted beforehand if it was - and it’s likely due to a minor incident in one of the Moroi’s magic classes. Regardless, they both set their coffee aside and are on their feet in an instant, heading towards the door.

“I swear if it ends up being one of those punk fire-users pulling a prank…” Yuri mutters under his breath before trailing off.

Dimitri forces himself to huff a breath of laughter. He knows logically that it probably is, just a joke or a classroom exercise that got a little out of hand, and yet he still can’t find it in himself to unclench.

They emerge from the building and Alberta falls into step beside them, her quick pace meaning that she easily keeps up with Dimitri and Yuri both despite being nearly a foot shorter than them.

“Know what it is yet?” Dimitri asks, glancing sidelong at her.

“One of the magic classrooms?” Yuri interjects, but Alberta shakes her head grimly.

“Home ec.”

Dimitri’s blood instantly runs cold and he stumbles, mind running over Rose and Christian’s schedule because of course even with her limited duty she’s on today, and of course Christian has home ec class right now. He lengthens his stride, forcing Alberta and Yuri to practically jog to keep up and even that doesn’t feel fast enough, not when every instinct he possesses is screaming at him to run.

When they finally make it up the stairs to the classroom they find the fire out and the room in a state of organised chaos, having been beaten there by half a dozen guardians as well as Dr. Olendzki. One guardian is standing at the front of the room with the teacher who is shaking her head, hand over her mouth, as though she can’t quite comprehend what has just happened. The other guardians are checking the damage which seems contained to a large scorch mark on a wall near one of the stations. Most of the students are gathered in the back corner amusing themselves, but two are sitting apart with one being tended to by Dr. Olendzki.

When Dimitri sees who it is, he crosses the room in a handful of long strides, Alberta and Yuri on his heels.

“Roza,” he says, the loving moniker coming out without even thinking as he touches her shoulder. “What happened?”

Rose glances up at him, seemingly unperturbed by both his worried expression and the fact that her arm is currently being examined by the doctor. She rolls her eyes half-heartedly, flicking a stray strand of hair out of her face. “Nothing, just the idiot behind us stopped paying attention to what he was doing and his damn station nearly exploded.”

“Rose reacted so fast,” Christian puts in, uncharacteristically impressed. “The flames were coming right at us and she shoved me out of the way.”

Rose grins up at them, hiding a wince as Dr. Olendzki prods at her arm. “If only one of you guys had been around, you would have given me full marks for my response time.”

“Is she alright?” Dimitri asks Dr. Olendzki, ignoring Rose’s wisecracking.

“I’m fine-”

“Is she alright?” he asks again, a little more forcefully.

“Just a first degree burn, and a rather mild one at that,” the doctor says, looking faintly amused.

She indicates a slightly red area on Rose’s forearm, and, unable to help himself, Dimitri takes Rose’s arm in his own hands, forcing himself to be gentle despite his haste, and looks for himself.

“I’ll prescribe some burn cream to put on it, but that’s more for her own comfort than anything else.” Dr. Olendzki turns back to Rose. “I’ll send some to your dorm later, okay? But come see me if the pain continues after three days.”

Dr. Olendzki touches Rose’s shoulder reassuringly and snaps her bag closed, nodding to Alberta before making her leave.

“You’re done for today,” Dimitri says instantly to Rose, who, predictably, opens her mouth to argue.

“No, come on, I’m fine.”

“I said you’re done.”

“I’m on limited duty already, I need to be on today”

Alberta raises an eyebrow, glancing between them with a hint of surprise at their vehemence. Yuri coughs uncomfortably and excuses himself, while Christian, looking perplexed, also glances between them.

“You heard Guardian Belikov,” Alberta says finally, putting an end to the argument. “He’s responsible for you and he said you’re done, so you’re done. Go back to your room, Rose,” she continues, voice softening a fraction. “Take the rest of the afternoon off and put some cream on that burn.”

Rose still looks ready to argue but Alberta simply walks away, protests falling on deaf ears.

Christian clucks his tongue in vague sympathy. “Sucks, Rosie.”

Rose directs a vulgar gesture towards him and Dimitri doesn’t even have it in him to sigh at their bickering or reprimand her. “Come on,” he says, touching the back of her shoulder to usher her out of the classroom.

“I really am fine, Comrade. You didn’t need to do that,” she sas as they walk down the hallway, frowning when she doesn’t respond. “Hey, what’s up?”

Dimitri merely shakes his head, unable to describe the level of panic that had swept over him when he’d realised she might be in trouble. The panic that seems only inches away lately with everything that’s been going on and the constant reminders of how easily she could be taken away from him.

“Seriously,” she says, stopping and grabbing his arm to force him to do the same. “You’re worrying me now.”

Dimitri takes her by the elbow, gentle and mindful of her burn and pulls her into a forgotten alcove, where he brackets her against the wall, hands on either side of her head. “Tell me the truth,” he says, staring intently into her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she says, her voice sure, all lingering traces of amusement vanishing. “I’m okay.”

The air leaves Dimitri in a rush and his eyes slide shut as he leans forward to rest his forehead against hers.

“Hey,” she whispers, hand coming up to rest lightly against his cheek, fingers tapping out a nervous, staccato rhythm, the only sign that he’s still worrying her. “What’s wrong? I’m okay.”

I know, he wants to say. He wants to say but can’t because he doesn’t know if she really is these days. He doesn’t know if she’s okay because she seems to have all these hurts that he can’t do anything to fix. These hurts that he would do anything to fix but doesn’t know how.