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inkspiredwriting · 1 year ago

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The Diner of Destiny - Part 2

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: Okay, some of you wanted a second part. So I thought why not? I've never written a second part to any of my stories, so I'm not so sure if the second part is any good.

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6, angst

Five wandered through the fractured remains of countless timelines, driven by a singular purpose: to find y/n, the woman he had unwittingly erased from existence. He had become a phantom, slipping between realities like a shadow, his resolve hardening with each failed attempt. Every timeline, every world was a dead end, a cruel reminder of the life he had obliterated with one careless choice. But giving up was never an option. He had to find her.

Weeks blurred into months as he tirelessly pursued the faintest hints of her existence. Fragmented memories, distorted whispers, and fleeting visions of a woman whose face he had never truly known. Each clue led him deeper into the labyrinth of time, and each step weighed heavier on his conscience. He was close—he could feel it.

Finally, one day, in a timeline that felt strangely still, as though it had been waiting for his arrival, Five found her.

She was sitting in a small, secluded garden, surrounded by overgrown ivy and vibrant flowers. The sun cast a warm, golden light over the scene, but there was an air of melancholy that clung to the place, as if it remembered the things that had been lost. Y/n was there, her back to him, her head bowed as she absentmindedly traced patterns in the dirt with a stick. She looked almost like a statue—beautiful, but untouchable, frozen in a moment that he had shattered.

Five approached her cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. His footsteps crunched softly on the gravel path, and y/n looked up, startled. Her eyes met his, and for a brief, agonizing moment, it was as though she recognized him. But then the flicker of familiarity vanished, replaced by confusion.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice tinged with wariness but not fear. There was a gentleness in her tone that cut Five deeper than any anger could have.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, and for the first time in a long time, he hesitated. How could he explain the unimaginable? How could he make her understand what he had done?

“My name is Five,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m not sure how to say this, but… you were supposed to be someone important to me. To all of us, actually. But I made a mistake, a terrible mistake, and I… I lost you.”

Y/n’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of his words. “Lost me? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. We’ve never met before. How could you have lost me?”

Five’s chest tightened with the weight of his guilt. “You’re right. We’ve never met. But we should have. I was supposed to find you, fall in love with you. You were supposed to be my anchor, the person who kept me—and all the other versions of me—grounded across the timelines. But instead, I got involved with someone else, someone named Lila.”

At the mention of Lila’s name, Y/n’s expression softened, but only slightly. “Lila?” she echoed, the name unfamiliar and distant.

Five nodded, his voice trembling. “Yes. I thought I was making the right choice at the time, but it was the wrong one. Choosing Lila… it erased you from our lives. You were supposed to be there, and because of me, you weren’t. I took away your life, your future, and I didn’t even know it until it was too late.”

Y/n stared at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of deception or malice. But all she saw was a man haunted by his mistakes, a man who had come to her not for forgiveness, but for something even more elusive.

“What do you want from me?” she asked quietly, her voice laced with a sorrow she didn’t fully understand.

Five closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the strength to continue. “I don’t know if I can make things right, but I had to find you. I had to tell you what happened, even if it doesn’t change anything. I’m sorry, y/n. I’m sorry for what I took from you, for what I took from all of us. I just… I wanted you to know that you mattered. That you were supposed to matter.”

Y/n looked down at the ground, her hand still clutching the stick. She was silent for a long time, and Five feared that his words had only hurt her more, that there was nothing left to say. But then, she spoke, her voice soft and distant.

“Do you really believe we could have been happy?” she asked, almost to herself.

Five’s heart ached at the question, at the lost possibility of what could have been. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “But I would have liked to find out.”

Y/n nodded, her expression unreadable. “I can’t remember you,” she said softly. “But something in me feels… something. Maybe it’s just the idea of what could have been. Or maybe… maybe there’s something more.”

Five watched her, his breath catching in his throat. This was it—the moment that could change everything. But even as hope flickered within him, he knew the truth. He had come too late. The damage was done, and there was no going back.

“I wish I could change what happened,” he whispered. “But all I can do is tell you the truth. You deserved so much more than what I left you with.”

Y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with a sadness that went beyond words. “Maybe we were never meant to be,” she said quietly. “Maybe… maybe this was always how it was supposed to end.”

Five shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “No. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. But it’s what I’ve made it. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Y/n stood slowly, the stick falling from her hand as she faced him fully. “I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I appreciate that you tried to make things right. Even if it’s too late.”

Five nodded, the tears finally spilling over as he met her gaze. “I’ll never stop trying to make it right,” he vowed. “Even if I never see you again, I’ll keep looking for a way to fix this.”

Y/n gave him a small, sad smile, the kind of smile that spoke of acceptance and resignation. “Goodbye, Five,” she said softly. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, her figure growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the distance. Five stood there, alone in the garden, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He had found her, but he had also lost her—again.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the garden in a blanket of twilight, Five knew that this was his burden to bear. He had made a choice, and now he would live with the consequences for the rest of his existence. The woman who was supposed to be his anchor, his salvation, was gone, and he was the one who had pushed her away.

And so, with a heavy heart and a mind full of regrets, Five turned and walked back into the shadows, disappearing from the world that could have been his. The timelines would go on, fractured and unstable, and he would continue his endless search for redemption. But deep down, he knew the truth—some things could never be undone. And some losses were meant to be permanent.

The garden, now empty and silent, bore witness to a moment that had passed, a possibility that had slipped through time’s fingers. And as the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, Five’s silhouette faded into the night, carrying with him the memory of what could have been, and the sorrow of what never was.

#five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five imagine #number five x reader #the umbrella academy #number five #number five one shot #five hargreeves

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yvesssssssss · 5 months ago

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No way out(2)

Part 1

Nagumo Yoichi had always been a storm. Chaotic, unpredictable, and impossible to ignore. And just like that, he had swept back into your life, leaving a trail of confusion and nerves in his wake.

The Sakamoto store felt too quiet after he left, even though nothing had changed—except everything had.

Shin still looked like he was struggling to process what had just happened, arms crossed as he paced in front of the counter. “No, because I still don’t get it. You and Nagumo? How? Why?”

You sighed, pressing your fingers against your temples. “Do we have to do this right now?”

“Yes, actually.”

Sakamoto handed you a bottle of water before going back to inventory, acting like this was just another Tuesday.

Shin, on the other hand, was vibrating with secondhand stress. “Nagumo is—he’s Nagumo! You know what he’s like! He’s irresponsible! He’s dangerous! He pisses people off for fun! Do you really think he’s gonna be a dad??”

You didn’t answer. Not because you hadn’t thought about it, but because you had—over and over, until your head ached.

Nagumo wasn’t the type to settle down. He wasn’t the type to take responsibility for anything unless it amused him. The idea of him being a father was so absurd that you had convinced yourself it wasn’t worth telling him.

And yet.

He hadn’t run away. He hadn’t laughed it off as a joke. He had stayed.

That was more than you had expected.

Shin groaned. “This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Not our business,” Sakamoto reminded him without looking up.

“You keep saying that, but it is our business! She works here! And if Nagumo’s gonna keep showing up—”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Shin.”

“What?”

“Drop it.”

Shin’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he huffed and muttered, “Fine.”

But you knew this wasn’t the end of it.

Not by a long shot.

|Later That Night|

You were exhausted.

Closing up the shop had taken longer than usual, mostly because you kept getting distracted. Your mind wouldn’t shut up, replaying the scene over and over. The way Nagumo’s smirk had flickered, the way his black eyes had darkened when he realized the truth.

You still didn’t know what he was thinking.

You locked the door to your small apartment, letting out a slow breath. Your place wasn’t much—just a one-bedroom with a tiny kitchen and a couch that had seen better days. It was enough.

At least, it had been.

You ran a hand over your stomach, biting your lip. Soon, it wouldn’t just be you anymore.

You had been planning for this, preparing for this. You had told yourself you didn’t need anyone else.

So why did it feel like your world had tilted off its axis the moment Nagumo found out?

A knock at your window nearly made you scream.

Your hand flew to the nearest object—a lamp—before you turned.

And there he was.

Nagumo Yoichi, standing on the fire escape like he had every right to be there, grinning at you through the glass.

You scowled, yanking the window open. “Are you insane?”

“Debatable,” he said, swinging a leg over the sill and slipping inside, landing with practiced ease.

You pointed at the door. “That exists for a reason.”

“But this way is more fun.”

You wanted to strangle him. Genuinely.

Instead, you exhaled sharply. “What do you want, Nagumo?”

He leaned against the wall, tilting his head. “Just checking in.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Bullshit.”

He placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. “You wound me.”

You crossed your arms, staring him down.

For a moment, he just looked at you. The usual teasing glint in his eyes was still there, but underneath it, something more serious lurked. Something you couldn’t quite place.

Nagumo Yoichi was an expert liar. But right now, you had a feeling he wasn’t faking this.

“Look,” he finally said, his smirk softening. “I know you think I’m gonna bail.”

Your throat tightened.

He wasn’t wrong.

Nagumo had always been a wildcard. He came and went as he pleased, slipping through people’s lives like smoke.

“I’m not gonna bail.” His voice was quieter now. “I meant what I said, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

You hated how much you wanted to believe him.

Your fingers curled into fists. “Why?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“Why are you suddenly acting like you care?” Your voice wavered despite yourself. “You don't do responsibility, Nagumo. You don’t even take yourself seriously half the time. So why are you here?”

He was quiet for a long moment.

Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

You should have moved. You should have put more space between you. But you didn’t.

Nagumo reached out, his fingers brushing your wrist. It was a fleeting touch, barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“You think I don’t care?” His voice was low now, almost dangerous.

You swallowed hard. “Don’t you?”

Something unreadable flickered across his face.

Then, to your surprise, he chuckled.

It wasn’t his usual mischievous laugh. This one was softer. Almost… fond.

“Y’know,” he mused, rubbing the back of his neck, “this is probably the worst way for you to find out, but—”

“Find out what?”

Nagumo smirked, stepping back. “You’re not the only one who’s been avoiding something, sweetheart.”

Your stomach twisted. “Nagumo—”

He winked. “Get some rest. We’ll talk later.”

And just like that, he strolled toward the window again, slipping out onto the fire escape before you could say another word.

You stood frozen, heart pounding in your chest.

Not the only one avoiding something.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

One thing was for sure.

Nagumo Yoichi was about to make your life very complicated.

#sakadays #sakamoto days x reader #nagumo x reader #nagumo yoichi #sakamoto days #nagumo yoichi x reader

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104cadetlauren · 2 months ago

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Rivetra was a tragedy of timing / Levihan was a tragedy of restraint

⚠️ hot take incoming ⚠️

If you can’t handle your fave ship being shipped with someone else, go ahead and keep scrolling. this post isn’t for you.

this is for the people who actually enjoy digging into the messy, layered dynamics in Attack on Titan's complicated and subtle relationship dynamics. the ones who don’t mind exploring the in-betweens and what-ifs, the subtext and the missing pieces that canon never fully spelled out.

So yeah. let’s talk about Levi, Petra, and Hange. buckle up.

I’m a hardcore Levihan shipper (and I strongly believe this to be canon, don’t fight me!), but if someone ever asked me if Levi had another possible love interest other than Hange—well, sorry Eruri fans, but no, it’s not Erwin. It would be Petra.

Wait, what? I thought you were Levihan for life???

Yes, and I always will be. But let’s not forget these characters are multi-faceted. They have layers—complicated pasts, subtle choices—and the plot itself helped mold them into who they became by Season 4.

Season 1, while tragic, still had a clearer structure. Titans = enemies. But as the story evolved and they reached the other side of the wall, the narrative shifted. The real threat wasn’t just titans anymore—it was the entire world, planning to erase the existence of Eldians. And that changed everything, including how our characters saw themselves, each other, and their purpose.

Levi and Hange were different people back then. Even if they were close, even if there was a bond, their dynamic wasn’t exactly what we saw later. (more on this in a bit.)

Let’s try to seal the intentional gaps left by the story—to stay in-character and to make sense of the subtle ways Levi’s relationships were presented in the earlier seasons.

A quick reminder of the timeline: by the start of Season 1, Levi was probably in his early 30s and had already been with the Survey Corps for around six years (based on ACWNR), which means he’d known Hange for at least that long. Petra, on the other hand, was relatively new—she’d been with Levi’s squad for about a month.

Now, when Levi and Hange were introduced in the manga, they were introduced side by side (like Eremika, hello?). Hange was teasing Levi about how if people only knew what a neat freak he was, they wouldn’t admire him so much. And right after that? The hair grab scene. Levi pulls her close and says “kokoda” in that deep, near-whisper voice—and the way it's animated, it’s clearly meant for her and only her. It’s intimate. (Mike literally looked tired of their shit. Iconic.)

Sure, this wasn’t in the manga—but the anime added it to emphasize their relationship. Let that sink in.

From just this small interaction, you can already feel the closeness. It even flirts with flirtation. Look at Hange’s eyes when she teases him—girl’s either crushing hard or just enjoying the chemistry. And Levi? Let’s not forget that he’s a clean freak and Hange… well, isn’t. So him pulling her that close? Look at how her hair scrunched from Levi’s hold. That’s not nothing.

Let’s be real: if I were Hange’s boyfriend and saw her “best friend” do that, I’d be flipping a table. So let’s simplify things—Levi and Hange were that pair. The two friends who swear they’re “just friends” while everyone around them silently suffers through their PDA. But no, they weren’t together during this time. They were simply them—deeply bonded, constantly orbiting each other, sharing laughs, rants, and quiet loyalty.

Now let’s talk about Petra.

Petra Ral was 19. Levi was around 31–32 (and still not fully aware of his Ackerman lineage). Yes, there’s a significant age gap, but this is just headcanon territory—trying to connect the dots the narrative left scattered.

Even if Levi wasn’t actively thinking of retirement or family, he was still human. And at that age, even the most closed-off people start wondering: What next? He probably didn’t have a detailed fantasy of domestic life, but maybe—maybe—he had moments where he thought about coming home to someone. Not someone romantic, per se, but someone stable. Someone who wouldn’t mind sharing tea in silence.

Now, Erwin? Out of the question. Levi knew he’d serve the military till death. Pixis-style. The next closest person was Hange. She was a confidant. The one who understood him without needing him to explain. She never judged him. She tolerated his harsh words. She knows him well.

…But she was obsessed with titans. She had purpose and obsession that extended far beyond Levi. Even if he wanted to offer her a quiet life, she wasn’t someone who could stay still for it. She needed freedom, curiosity, movement. And Levi—quietly—wanted that for her too. He wouldn't chain her to anything.

Then Petra entered the picture.

She was young, but she was also warm, kind, and clearly devoted to him. Levi noticed. How could he not? Petra worried about him—even though he was humanity’s strongest, this is evident is some scenes like in S01E09 where we first got a preview of Levi fighting.

Levi handpicked her for her skills, sure. But maybe also because of her balance—her strength and her care. Yams even said Levi thought Petra was cute. And when she died, Levi lingered. He stared.

Look at this picture, even in death, she was beautiful.

When Erwin died, Levi didn’t even take a keepsake. But Petra? He collected her patch, though he gave it to another soldier who needed comfort more. And when her father approached Levi in the street, talking about Petra being too young to marry, it was painful. Petra’s father had clearly misunderstood the letter she wrote—one where she declared her dedication to Levi. Not to the Survey Corps. To Levi.

In Petra, Levi saw a distant, fragile future. Not plausible, but… possible.

And that’s why he cared.

But what about Hange in all this?

I think Hange was the first to realize her feelings for Levi were more than friendship. All that teasing, the time spent together—come on, it was bound to happen. But Hange being Hange? She probably buried herself in her lab, blasting Heather by Conan Gray while dissecting a titan carcass (I’m joking… kinda).

The thing is, Hange’s smart. She’s observant. She probably saw the shift in Levi. She noticed the way he treated Petra, the stolen glances, the growing bond. And even though their bond (Levi and Hange’s) was stronger, she saw that Petra offered something she couldn’t: devotion without distraction. Petra had one purpose—Levi.

And Hange? She had a thousand obsessions. She probably told herself that Levi deserved someone who could give him time, stability, care. And she couldn’t. So maybe she quietly let him go.

Hange isn’t the typical “waifu” material. She’s not soft and kawaii—she’s chaotic brilliance, messy hair, explosions in the lab. Meanwhile, Petra was gentle, sweet, nurturing. The kind of person who'd write home about Levi. The kind of person Levi could come home to.

Hange, maybe, told herself Levi needed that. And she stepped back.

But here’s the thing: Levi couldn’t quite step back from Hange. Even if Petra represented a possibility, Hange was gravity.

He kept coming to her lab. He still sought her out. Even when he didn’t understand why. Even when she seemed to be moving on, fully immersed in her titan research.

When Petra died, that fragile possibility of a quiet future died too. And maybe Levi finally realized that he was never meant for “normal.”

After his injuries, he spent more time with Hange again. And guess what? That pull? Still there.

He starts asking for her attention. He pesters her. He picks her up from her lab, pretending it’s nothing. But it’s something.

And as time passes, especially after Erwin’s death, Levi and Hange lean on each other more. By Season 4, they’re inseparable. Partners in everything. Understanding each other without speaking.

And I believe—truly—that they only fully acknowledged what they felt from the moment Hange saw Levi broken and near-death… all the way to Hange’s sacrifice.

That’s what makes Levihan canon for me. Not in the loud, dramatic way. But in the slow-burn, unsaid, devastatingly beautiful way.

Star-crossed lovers. Never given a real chance. And that hurts. But it also fits.

Petra mattered. Her presence made Levi think about the future. She was part of his emotional evolution.

Hange? She was always there. The constant. The one person who knew Levi more than any one else, she took the time to know him, and in spite of Levi’s coldness, she stayed.

And okay—remember Hange had a thing for Keith Shadis? Yeah. Look at her type. Grumpy, brooding men who never smile. (Girl has a pattern.)

So even if the stories look different—Petra and Hange are vital to understanding Levi’s emotional core. They shape how he responds to grief, to love unspoken, to futures imagined and then ripped away.

Petra was an almost. And with Hange, he was finally sure. But by then, it was already too late.

Ps: Petra was beside Hange when Levi saw them in the mist. We can’t ignore that.

What do you think? Agree? Disagree? Let’s talk about it. Just don’t send hate—this is a safe space for headcanons and heartbreak.

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aeriikiesss · 8 days ago

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WHAT WE LEFT BEHIND TWENTY-ONE

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

TAGS: angst, past lovers, bittersweet, sports AU, squid game doesn’t exist, reminisce

A/N: i’ve been SO fixed on 2521, best kdrama ever! i miss hee-do and yi-jin so bad to the point i had to write in-ho and reader as them in another universe :( i suggest watching that drama if u like slice of life and youth kdramas!

DIVIDERS: chachachannah

PAIR: news anchor!in-ho x fencing!reader

The gold medal around your neck feels heavier than it should—its weight dragging against your chest like a reminder rather than a reward.

You thought this moment would feel cleaner. You had imagined it dozens of times—your victory on the world stage. The screaming crowd. The anthem. The tears that weren’t supposed to be sad. And yet, now that you’re here, now that you’ve climbed the mountain you’ve been scaling since you were seventeen and broke and hungry and alone—

It doesn’t feel like the top.

It feels like the edge of something vast and empty.

The announcer’s voice crackles overhead, echoing across the stadium.

“And now, a special post-victory interview with South Korea’s fencing champion, L/N Y/N, led by our lead anchor, Hwang In-ho.”

Your fingers twitch at your sides.

You’ve trained your whole life not to flinch. Not when a blade flies past your face, not when reporters ask invasive questions, not when the weight of expectation sits on your shoulders like armor. But now—now you almost do.

Because it’s him.

Of all people.

Hwang In-ho.

The man you loved when love was all you had. The boy who once held your face between his palms and whispered, “You can do anything. Even if I’m not there to see it.”

You hadn’t realized how deeply those words had burrowed inside you—until you spent years trying to hate him for saying them at all.

You walk toward the stage slowly. With purpose. You remind yourself of the cameras, the sponsors, the reputation you’ve spent half your life earning. You are composed. You are graceful.

But your pulse thunders when you see him.

He stands exactly as you remember—rigid posture, pressed suit, neat hair, elegant watch ticking quietly on his wrist. But his face…

His face is a betrayal. It hasn’t changed. Not really. Older, yes. Wiser, perhaps. But those eyes? Still the same brown you used to memorize during lazy Sunday mornings and cramped subway rides and sleep-deprived midnight calls.

Still the same man who kissed you behind gymnasium bleachers after your first regional match.

Still the same man who walked away because loving you hurt too much.

Your heels click against the stage floor. He turns toward you with the calm, public smile of a professional—his mask so perfectly in place that for a moment, you think maybe it was all in your head.

“Y/N, congratulations,” he says, voice smooth, low, practiced. “You’ve just made history. How does it feel, standing here with the gold?”

You take the mic from him. Your hand brushes his—just barely.

Your skin burns.

You force a smile. You look out into the crowd, bright lights burning into your vision.

And then you say, “It feels… heavier than I thought it would.”

There’s a pause. Just long enough for the people watching at home to think it’s poetic. But you see the corner of his mouth twitch, just slightly, like it always used to when he wanted to ask what you really meant.

He doesn’t.

You keep going. “I dreamed of this moment for so long. I thought it would feel like flying. But instead… it feels like I’m finally breathing again after drowning for years.”

He nods, lips still shaped into a press smile, but you catch it—that flicker of something in his eyes.

“Your journey’s been incredible,” he says. “You started with nothing—no equipment, no coach, no team—and now you’re here. A global champion.”

You tilt your head, voice softening. “Not nothing. I had someone who believed in me once. Someone who made me believe it too.”

There’s another pause—longer, heavier. The audience might think it’s dramatic effect. But between you and him? You both know what it is.

You stare at each other a second too long. Enough to make the silence feel intimate. Enough to make the cameraman shift uncomfortably.

He blinks. Looks away.

Still the same coward, you think. But there’s no real anger in it. Just the echo of what could’ve been.

“Were there moments,” he says carefully, “when you thought of giving up?”

Your smile is immediate. It’s not happy.

“Every week. Every match. Every time I had to eat instant noodles for the fifth day in a row because training cost more than living. Every time I watched my classmates graduate, date, fall in love, while I spent Valentine’s Day with blisters and bruises. There were moments where it wasn’t just a question of giving up. It felt like surviving was the sacrifice.”

You meet his eyes then. This time, there’s no smile.

“But I never stopped. Because someone once told me I’d win. And even when he left—” You falter. “Even when the world told me I was wasting my youth, I kept chasing the echo of that promise.”

He swallows.

You see his fingers clench around his cue card. See the veins in his wrist twitch like they used to when he was nervous.

But he doesn’t say anything.

He can’t.

The interview wraps up with a few more formal questions. You answer them. Laugh once or twice. Thank your coaches, your team, your fans.

And when it’s over, you step off the stage without looking back.

Until—

“Wait,” he says quietly, behind you, after the cameras go dark.

You stop. But you don’t turn.

His voice is softer now. Raw.

“I watched every one of your matches. Even the qualifiers. Even the ones that didn’t make the news. I stayed up at 3 a.m. refreshing the live scoreboards. I—I knew you’d make it.”

You inhale sharply. Keep your back to him.

“Then why didn’t you call?” you ask. “Why didn’t you stay?”

“I thought it would hurt you more if I stayed in your life and became the reason you failed. I thought… I thought letting go was how I could protect you.”

You finally turn.

“You weren’t protecting me. You were protecting yourself.”

He flinches. But doesn’t deny it.

“I never stopped loving you,” he says instead.

You nod. “I know.”

And it should be enough. That admission. That honesty.

But it isn’t.

Because the person you loved is still standing there in a suit, behind a camera, and the person you became learned to win without him.

“I loved you too,” you whisper. “At nineteen. At twenty-one. And even when I hated you, I think I still loved you.”

His jaw tightens.

“But I can’t go back,” you say, a bitter smile ghosting your lips. “I worked too hard to become someone without you. And now I don’t know how to be that girl again.”

He nods slowly.

And that’s when you both understand.

This isn’t a love story.

It’s a memory.

A scar.

A beautiful, broken part of your history that shaped who you are—but doesn’t get to stay.

You step closer—close enough to see the lines time etched on his face, close enough to smell the familiar scent of his cologne, something citrusy and warm.

You press a hand to his chest.

“Thank you,” you say. “For loving me. For leaving. For everything. But I have to go now.”

And he says nothing.

Because there’s nothing left to say.

That night, as the plane takes you home, you sit by the window with the medal in your lap.

You watch the clouds pass by and wonder where he is.

In a studio? On a train? Lying awake thinking about the version of you he once held at twenty-one?

Maybe.

But you don’t call.

And he doesn’t chase.

Because sometimes—love isn’t meant to return.

It’s meant to be remembered.

masterlist

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shadytimetravelinfluencer · 2 months ago

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Wanderer fic writers I got a plot for y’all hear me out (or has this already been written if yes then PLEASE DROP IT HEREEEE)

Wanderer with a sunshine!reader who is also a scholar at the Akademiya, and somehow always manages to follow him everywhere. Reserving him a seat in the library, sitting with him during lunch, walking with him in the Akademiya grounds. Why would someone like you, the smart social butterfly known by almost everyone for being nice (you know, like the complete opposite of him) hang out with well...him, of all people. A guy who doesn’t even care to say pleasantries. So he does his best to shake you off his back. He says the meanest things whenever he’s flustered, walks a tad bit faster than you do, purposely leaves your shared table first. He reminds you he’s a sinner—that he’s a mistake in this world, someone who should never have existed, a hollow puppet with no purpose and nothing under his name. And he’s irritated (blushing) when you still stick to him (stubbornly so), when you tilt your head and answer him “okay, so what? You’re a nice person! You stack the books I always talk about in our usual table in the library, buy me the food I like whenever we eat, and...” blahblahblah has he really been doing that?

PS. If someone sees this and deems it worthy enough to write add a jealousy scene as a wake-up call for our dear Wanderer to realize his feelings too, likeee Y’ALL PLEASE I NEED TO SEE SOMETHING LIKE THIS 😭

#wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #wanderer genshin #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche #wanderer

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emilija04acer · 8 months ago

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Jayvik fics list (pt 1)

(+ some Jayvikmel)

They are soulmates, Your Honor, whether platonic or romantic is irrelevant.

Firstly, here is an essay by isdisorigionale. Yes, they apparently wanted to write about a brotherly relationship. But it doesn't really read like that, in my opinion.

An Aroace Analysis of Jayvik—Not Necessarily Romance, Absolutely Not “Bros”

Their summary>

An essay I wrote in 90 minutes 2 hours after finishing Season 2 Act 3. Notably, those two hours were spent screaming to my friends on how fucking generational that Jayvik was.

Or: They obviously didn't need to make them make out to show how much they love each other, but I’m also pissed at how apparently this is being called a bromance like ?????

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Now onto the fanfics >

Green is my thoughts on the fics.

Those are shorter fics that I read...After the finale, fanfiction is helping me cope. I'll make a separate list with older and longer fics.

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You're Dreaming by Skullsz_Writes

Viktor & Jayce are researching in the library, but Jayce falls asleep...

Short and sweet fic about Viktor crushing on Jayce in season 1

An Epilogue by GwenEani

In the countryside of Demacia two men arrive one day, no one knows anything about them, no one even knows their names for certain. But they know one thing: they are partners and are here to stay.

What if Jayce and Viktor didn't die in each other's arms but were teleported away and were living domestic lives? There are a lot of these here, and rightfully so. They deserve some happiness.

to rot and ruin by ember360

The first words Viktor says to Jayce are immortalised on Jayce's wrist. The first words Jayce says to Viktor... are not what he thinks.

Soulmate AU for these two was a need. I love Soul Mark fanfictions.

Fortune Kooky by setbet

“And you end up with… a beard!” she exclaimed pointing at Jayce’s face.

Viktor rolled his eyes while Jayce looked on, amazed at her prophecy.

“And then…” she turned her gaze to Viktor. “You turn into a robot!” cried out the fortune teller, falling back in fear. “A terrifying robot bent on taking over the world!”

“Eh, sounds fake,” said Viktor.

“Viktor, don't be rude!” said Jayce, but starting to feel a bit doubtful at this point.

A fic about two academy boys visiting a completely accurate fortune teller.

Universal Constants. by Azurita25

“Yes, well… there is also the idea of constants, no? Universal constants. Gravity is always present, the Earth always spins around the sun–”

“And we always end up doing laundry together?”

“I do not think the laundry is the part that’s important,” Viktor stressed.

“So what is?” Jayce replied, making Viktor laugh, shake his head.

“You are.”

--Or, a glimpse into all the universes where Jayce and Viktor find each other.

wrong bedroom by a1sher

“Wait a minute, this isn’t my bedroom.” Viktor and Jayce tries to break into Heimerdinger’s lab only to end up in Viktor’s bedroom;)

What if Mel accepted Vik's excuse?

…And They Were Roommates! by draconabraxas

Mel Medarda never thought she’d go on a date with a taken man; homewrecking was beneath a woman of her standing.

In her defense, nobody in their circle seemed to know if Jayce and Viktor were together, either. So, how was she supposed to know?

Miscomunication and more miscomunication! Mel isn't a sidepeace!

Why Love Songs Exist by Slither

"All these timelines at our fingertips." Viktor pauses. He smirks in such a way that Jayce knows he has a silly idea. "It would be funny if I were a worm in an alternate universe," he says.

"I think you would be a cute worm," says Jayce—his Jayce—without hesitation, and then he shrugs. "I would put you in the best garden I could find and feed you the freshest fruits," he adds casually.

Giopara is silently mouthing the phrase "what the fuck" behind them, as Viktor's mouth falls open. "Oh."

Oh, he says, as if that did not remind him of everything Jayce revealed before they sacrificed their souls to contain the Arcane. Oh, that he was beautiful. Oh, that he was...

Desired?

Or Jayce basically confessed his love, but the specifics remained unclear to Viktor.

Kiss me like one of your Zaun Boys by setbet

“They’re making out in the lab.”

“Yeah, they do that a lot.”

“But they’re not boyfriends?”

“We don’t talk about it.”

The first time Viktor kissed Jayce, it was a quick peck on the cheek, followed by a casual conversation. The next time it's on the lips, but then it's back to talk about formulas. Jayce concludes it must be a cultural thing, and also starts to kiss Viktor back. Everybody else is confused.

A story of two friends kissing each other, who are definitely not boyfriends.

only you by babybirb

Jayce and Viktor don't quite cease to exist. Instead, they are side by side in each breath, in each droplet of blood, in each wave of sound and light. What seems to be the end, is only the beginning for them. And together, they pave their way forth.

An ethereal alternate after-ending to Jayce and Viktor and the love they hold for each other. With it, they exist within all possibilities.

not to me, not if it's you by brewstersbru

They were supposed to die, then, a better ending than Viktor expected. Far sweeter than he deserved. Jayce’s hand warm and broad against his neck, foreheads tipped together, breaths fanning over skin. It was neat. It was nice.

And then he woke up, splayed in a field, draped in the tatters of Jayce’s blanket. A groan rose from his left, then some pitiful shuffling before a final, loud thump, accompanied by a slight warble.

perfect imperfections by bbgghost

In his dying moments, Jayce revisits some important moments he has shared with Viktor. And makes some new memories along the way.

i knew you in another life (you had that same look in your eyes) by coefemi

Jayce shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank me. I’d do it for you. I’d do anything.” He sounds so earnest too, and Viktor believes him. He is safe with this boy, he decides. Jayce’s smile makes him feel like he can eat the world raw, and Viktor wants to hold onto it forever.

When Viktor and Jayce's foreheads touch, all the infinite what-could-have-beens spill through their minds.

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2x7 AU\No Hextech AU

I'd love to see more of this AU and will also write fanfiction about it.

Quiet Resonance by Qakk281

Jayce rarely wakes up before Viktor, but on the rare mornings he does, he savors every second.

After the events of Act 3, Jayce and Viktor found themselves in a different timeline, where Hextech doesn't exist.

what could've been, would've been (what should've been you) by ghostlyecho

They got married in this universe.

Jayce grabs Viktor’s left hand, examining it. He looks at his own.

Twin rings adorn their fingers, Viktor’s golden, Jayce’s silver, both holding a fragment of blue crystal in the middle.

They’re married. They vowed their life to the other, they promised themselves to one another, they actually acted upon the deep-rooted emotions that coursed through the garden that was their relationship, that stubborn weed called love, that always came back no matter how many times you plucked it.

What if it was Jayce who got to see his life in an alternate universe

What Could Have Been by TheUnknownGoose

When Jayce woke up he nearly leaped out of bed when he realized bed? Why am I in bed? His heart was pounding against his rib cage as he looked around. He was in a bedroom, not his though.

Or Jayce sees what could have been if one thing had gone differently.

In Every Universe, It's You by AniresNevil

In an Alternate Universe, a young scientist Jayce loses his hopes and dreams when an explosion in his studyroom takes a life of an young girl. Dean's assistant Viktor still seems to find him in every lifetime, and together they accomplish something once again with the power of their partnership. And maybe with something more.

What happened to Jayce and Viktor in the Universe where Ekko traveled to in season 2?

Both arms cradle you now by Alexthestarlover

They're meant to be. In every timeline of any universe, throughout all the endless possibilities of actions and worlds. Their souls are intertwined. But is it possible that they're together in death too?

there was something about you, but now i cant remember by DipitinPuddinggg

He held out a hand for a shake, "I'm Jayce."

At the edges of his mind, a familiar voice echoed through the walls of his skull. A voice that was the same but also not. A face that was so familiar, but too smooth at this point in time, not yet marred by years of labour and hardship that not even the strongest person in Runeterra could survive on his own.

"I don't even know your name."

Viktor smiled and shook it, "Viktor."

After getting sucked into the rune, Jayce and Viktor get transported to a different timeline without the memories of their previous life. Except, some things start seeping in.

you'll never shine if you don't glow by hexcorehomos

Viktor woke up, his fact was hot, sweat dripping down it. Where was he?

He looked around, it looked like Piltover. He slowly tried to get up, still confused. He should be dead, he exploded with the Arcane. That's when he figured out that his leg was back to normal. He groaned, falling face down into the grass. He wondered if Jayce was here too, oh, Jayce. What would Viktor do without him?

He saw a few people pass, but he got the courage to speak up when he saw familiar blue hair, almost like Jinx's. "Uh, miss.." he got her attention, turning towards him.

"Hello, sir?" she responded. She had gorgeous blue eyes. "I need- I need help. My cane is gone, and I cant walk without it." he lied, desperate for help.

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The Poly relationship>

Radical Violence Theory by begaydocrimes10001

When Mel Medarda realizes that she's completely ignored Viktor's potential as a scientist, as an academic, she quickly seeks to remedy that. He may not be Jayce Talis, but he has his own brain, and he seems to be far more useful than most think. She's a practical woman, after all- it would be useful to have another genius on her side.

And when she realizes Viktor is also in love with Jayce Talis, and Jayce loves them both? She's still practical, after all-- she sees an opportunity.

(Or, Mel and Viktor are more similar than one might think. That applies to who they love, but it applies to how they love too.)

Mel and Vik are platonic in this one, and I love it. Sadly, the positive interaction between them in Cannon is non-existent.

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Explicit> (some are 2x8 specific)

Wild Like a March hare by crow_brain

Wild are the glimpses of their life, hot coals burning the soles of their feet. They dance like animals, trying to close the gap between.

(Or the body worship Viktor's always should've gotten)

Cosmic Coitus by Wink_Wonk_Wank_Wenk

Now that there’s nothing but space around them, they can do whatever they want.

Inevitable Change by magisterpavus

Viktor isn’t the same when he comes back.

Jayce is determined to make it work anyway.

convince you by spectacularorange

after being rejected once, viktor must find a way to convince jayce to join him.

2x8

Partners. by lw192

Taking place during the fight scene in the councilor's room, Jayce and Viktor reconcile and realize just how much they need each other.

(Jayce and Viktor fuck on the councilor's table.)

Can I hold you? (Even if its just pretend?) by Issavandra

“My partner died in this room,” he ground out.

“Do I seem dead to you Jayce?” Viktor asked. Jayce could feel him moving closer, he swore he felt something brush his nose. “I have never been more alive.”

A cool, metallic finger passed over his bottom lip in a featherlight touch. It felt almost reverent. “Do you want me to show you just how alive I am?”

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Pt 2is here>

https://www.tumblr.com/emilija04acer/768620668211331072/jayvik-fics-list-pt2?source=share

Pt 3 (new fics)>

https://www.tumblr.com/emilija04acer/769136252271362048/jayvik-list-pt3

#arcane #arcane fanfic #jayvik #jayvik fanfic #fanfic list #jayvikmel #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #arcane mel #league of legends #i can’t fucking believe they find each other in every timeline #Bromance??? It was supposed to be a bromance?

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endless-ineffabilities · 10 months ago

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this world was never meant for a fire like yours (part 4/5)

Daemon Targaryen x modern f!reader

word count: 6k

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

series synopsis: After a fatal injury on the battefield, Daemon wakes up in a foreign land - our world (where GoT / HoTD does not exist). He meets the reader, a nurse who tends to him and helps him navigate everything. They grow close, and slowly, but unequivocally, fall in love.

themes/warnings: language, separation, intense yearning, actual bonding between Daemon and Vizzy, magic use, manipulation

September 2023 / the 9th Moon, 113 AC

The fire in the hearth flickers weakly, casting shadows on the stone walls in Daemon’s chambers. His fingers drum restlessly on the arm on his chair, his mind elsewhere.

Across from him, Viserys is lounging calmly, the faintest smile playing on his lips. He had invited himself in Daemon’s company, under the pretence of discussing the plans of the Realmwalkers. And they did just that, but the King’s eyes remain bright with amusement—a cruel irony, given his brother’s predicament.

Daemon has been back from Korzion for several moons, and he yearns for you to such a degree that it lingers like an ache in his bones.

“So, what was this other realm like?” Viserys breaks the silence, his voice curious. But Daemon mistakes it for taunting.

“What was it like?” Daemon repeats, his voice a low rumble. He can feel his temper rising, as it almost always does when anything related to you is mentioned. When he has to speak of you, and be reminded that you are an entire world away.

Viserys leans forward, with a boyish eagerness to listen to tales of distant lands. “We never did get to have a proper discussion, brother. I would love to know. The… priestesses… called it the Realm of Steel. Now what does that mean? And its inhabitants are connected to devices? That must have been odd, indeed.”

Daemon stares at the fire, its fading warmth doing little to soothe the melancholy creeping into his thoughts. “You saw it.”

“Why, yes, brother,” Viserys nods thoughtfully, reclining again. “In the brief whisper of a moment that I spent in that realm, I was certainly able to familiarise myself with their ways.” His tone is clearly teasing, but Daemon finds no humour in it.

Daemon clenches his jaw, forcing the words out. “The only thing worth mentioning from the realm, the one thing that would have kept me there—”

“—is her, as you have mentioned before.” Viserys cuts in smoothly.

Daemon glares at his brother icily, his jaw clenching.

Viserys’ smile only widens. “Must you be so cross?”

“I am not cross,” Daemon responds petulantly. “I am mourning.”

Viserys waves a hand dismissively, as though swatting away a trivial complaint. “You will see her again!”

“And until then, I will remain in mourning.” The finality in Daemon’s tone seems to sober Viserys, if only for a moment.

“Daemon, you and your penchant for theatrics,” Viserys says, leaning back in his seat, indulging in a private jibe only he understands.

“Are you mocking me?” Daemon’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. For all his love for his brother, there are moments—far too many moments—when Daemon considers drawing his blade, simply to see if Viserys would still be so smug with Dark Sister at his throat.

Viserys holds up a hand in a placating gesture, though his eyes still sparkle with mischief. “What if I am? Will you strike at your King?” When his brother merely glowers at him, he continues, “There was something on her table. It possessed a dark hue, with a sheen to it. It looked stiff and peculiar…”

“Aye, she calls it a laptop,” Daemon says, his voice turning softer. He could see it so vividly in his mind—the glowing screen, the smooth surface of the strange object that seemed to hum with a life of its own. You had been understanding when he broke the one you owned originally in a fit of desperation, when the sentient overlord in the object called Google offered no answers.

Viserys’ face twists with confusion. “A lap… top?”

Daemon chuckles darkly at his brother’s obliviousness. “I called it a magic box at first.”

Viserys laughs out loud, the sound filling the chamber. “A magic box?”

“Pray tell,” Daemon drawls, “are you simply going to echo every word I utter?”

“Forgive me, brother,” Viserys says, his laughter dying down. “I am simply… amused.”

Daemon turns to face the hearth, the smirk that tugs at his lips growing impossible to hide. It was absurd, really—the man he had become in that world. A prince, warrior, and dragonlord brought low by strange, glowing boxes and foreign jargon that tumbled awkwardly from his lips.

But you… you had made him feel like none of it mattered. In your arms, he wasn’t so out of place.

Daemon sits silent for a moment, the memory of your time together tugging at him as he stares blankly into the flames. His lips twitch into the rarest of smiles—something soft and affectionate, uncharacteristic of the Rogue Prince.

“I nearly set fire to her home once, trying to cook us supper.”

Viserys raised an eyebrow. “You? Cooking?”

“I was so determined. Yet I managed to make a complete mess of something they call pasta. She ended up fixing what I ruined.”

“She must possess the patience of the Mother herself.”

Daemon hums in affirmation. You were a marvel, an anomaly, because you took him in—a complete and total stranger. You saw him, accepted him… and you loved him.

You love him still, Daemon hopes.

“She once took me to this…gods, what did she call it?” Daemon waves a hand vaguely, trying to summon the word from his mind. “A farmer’s market. A market without any actual farmers, mind you. Just a sea of stalls with trinkets and food. She insisted we buy strawberries, and they were strange—too sweet—but she fed me one anyway. Right in front of everyone.” He chuckles at the thought. “We were walking along, her hand in mine, not a care for the smallfolk surrounding us.”

Daemon’s eyes glaze over with a fondness that was rare for him, as he continues sharing more of your world with Viserys. He speaks of how you worked as something called a nurse– a healer—but you were far more skilled than even the Grand Maester himself. He shares how you introduced him to coffee—some bitter, muddy brew he loathed at first but came to crave due to its association with early mornings spent nestled with you on your couch. And how you made him try pizza, which he found oddly addictive.

“She insisted on doing things,” he says, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t quite believe it. “Not just ruling or politicking. Simple things. Like spending hours in a bloody shop trying on clothes that I did not need. But... It made her smile. And I would have done anything to see that smile.”

For a moment, the tension between them lifts, and Viserys watches his brother with an expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement. Daemon, the fearsome warrior, enchanted by something as lowly as venturing into a mundane market, utterly captivated by a woman who lived a life so unlike anything he had ever known.

But as Daemon’s musings grew quieter, his gaze hardened again, the sweetness slipping away. “Enough of this,” he says gruffly. “We must direct our attention on how I will be with her once more.”

October 2023 / the 10th Moon, 113 AC

The hospital’s antiseptic scent wraps around you like a damp cloak as you trudge through the hallways. Every beep of the machines and the chatter of your fellow nurses feels like a reminder of the normalcy you are desperately trying to hold onto. Little do they know, you are living a life that has been effectively tinged by dragonfire.

You don’t quite feel like a beacon of hope; more like a walking, talking paradox. You try to save lives while secretly plotting how to summon a Targaryen prince from his world.

Your mind flickers to Daemon as you begin your shift. His silver hair, that smug smile, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world — any world. If only he was back at your apartment to welcome you after your rounds, maybe things wouldn’t feel so heavy. But alas, you’re stuck in scrubs and not some elegant and puffy gown like those worn by the noble ladies in his kingdom.

Hours pass, and after a particularly exhausting shift, you finally make your way to Dessa’s apartment, your mind buzzing with excitement. She is an odd mix of energy and seriousness, her presence a grounding force. The moment you enter her living space, you’re assaulted by the scent of herbs and spices, the walls adorned with what looked like genuine dragon scales. Or maybe they’re just really expensive home decor from an antique shop? Who could say?

“Ready for another night of magical chaos?” Dessa asks, grinning as she sorts through her collection of peculiar knick-knacks.

“Chaos is my middle name,” you quipped, waving a hand dramatically. “At least it is now, thanks to you.”

“Just what I want to hear, my child. And I am honoured to be your guide through this madness.” She picks up a sliver of moonstone and winks. “Shall we start with the moonstone or the raven’s feather this time? Or should we just sacrifice a bloody goat and see what happens?”

You snort at her dark humour. “Let’s stick to the gemstones for now. I’m not ready for gruesome sacrifices.”

Dessa grins as she hands you the moonstone. “Good choice.”

The two of you settle in for your practice, the atmosphere thick with magic and your unspoken hopes. You take a deep breath, recalling the steps that would lead you to Daemon. This is your chance to strengthen your connection, to reach through the veils of reality and grasp him once more.

“Envision your destination clearly,” Dessa instructs, her voice encouraging. “You don’t want to end up in the middle of the Dothraki Sea.”

You laugh nervously, though you’re unsure what or where a Dothraki is. “Right.”

“Priorities, my dear.”

You prick your palm with the moonstone, and the sharp pain jolts you into focus. The blood meets the raven’s feather, and you begin to chant in High Valyrian. The words roll off your tongue, you can feel the energy building, swirling around you like a hurricane, almost intoxicating in its intensity.

But as the ash begins to swirl around you, that familiar sensation of panic surges in your chest. You focus harder, envisioning Daemon, and that wicked smile of his that haunts your dreams. The way he smells, the way he tastes. Just when the memory is strengthened in your mind, a wave of fatigue crashes over you, and everything immediately falters.

“Dessa, I—” You gasped, collapsing against the couch. “I can’t… It’s too much.”

“Take a breath, you can do this,” she urges, but the energy flickers out like a dying flame. “We can try again.”

“I’m starting to feel like a joke,” you mumble dejectedly. Are they sure that you are one of them? Maybe this was all a fluke.

But you try once more and you fail. Over and over. Each attempt feels more hopeless than the last. You could practically hear Daemon's mocking laughter in your head, though you knew he wouldn’t be so cruel—not to you.

“Let’s take a break,” Dessa suggests, concern knitting her brow. “You’re pushing too hard. It’s not a race.”

But all you could think about was the chasm of distance that lay between you and Daemon. “I just want to see him. I want to feel him.”

After the long night of failure, you trudge home, fatigue pulling at your limbs like lead. You slump onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. The room feels empty, devoid of magic and warmth and Daemon. The excitement that had buoyed your spirits is now like a distant memory.

Just as you begin to drift off, the memory of Daemon flickers behind your eyelids. Suddenly, something sparks within you, igniting the embers of your determination. You shoot up, adrenaline surging through your veins. The thought of giving up is unbearable. The very real possibility of losing him for good is enough to pull you out of your rut.

With a newfound sense of purpose, you gather the same tools from earlier, the moonstone and raven’s feather, and focus your thoughts. You envision Daemon, standing with him in the middle realm.

This time, your heart races not with self-doubt and gloom but with renewed hope. “I will find you,” you whisper to yourself. “I will.”

You prick your palm again, reciting the chant with a fervour you didn’t know you possessed. The energy swirls around you, coiling and tightening, feeding off your will. The feather turns to ash, and the world around you begins to shimmer and crackle, and with a rush that sends a thrill through your core, you feel yourself being pulled into the connection. The fog envelops you, and suddenly, you reach it.

But it isn’t just the middle realm. It’s everything you wanted, everything you long for.

And then, just like that, he appears. His silver hair gleamed in the soft light, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of surprise and wonder.

“This is real?”

Your voice comes out soft, hesitant. You’re unsure if you’re speaking to Daemon or to yourself.

Your senses are overwhelmed, and you feel somewhat floaty, as if you’re nowhere at all. Perhaps you are nowhere, not in your realm and not in Daemon’s, but somewhere in the middle. Everything feels so distant and dreamlike as you glance around, taking in the fog that seems to curl around the furniture, draping your bedroom in a surreal haze.

“Am I doing this?” You murmur in disbelief. “Is it working?”

Daemon doesn’t answer immediately. He stands frozen, his eyes wide and burning with an intensity that nearly undoes you. Then, something in him breaks, and he charges forward with a purpose, as if nothing else in the world matters but closing the space between you.

He grips you, his hands rough, desperate, holding onto whatever part of you he can—your face, your hips, your hands. His touch is possessive, like a man who fears he’ll lose you again. His lips crash into yours with a raw hunger, and it’s as if the entire world melts away, leaving only him. Your Daemon.

“My darling,” he breathes between kisses, his voice rough with desire. “All of this is fucking astonishing, and we can certainly marvel at what you can do to no end, but quite frankly, right this moment I could hardly bring myself to care.”

His lips devour yours, moving against your mouth with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. He kisses you as if it’s been years, as if this moment might be the last chance he’ll ever get. And for a brief second, the sensation overwhelms you — the smell of him, the feel of his hands gripping you with such raw need. Your fingers tangle in his silver hair, pulling him closer as if you could merge your two bodies together.

Daemon is not one to waste time, that’s for sure. His lips trail down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin of your collarbone as you arch into him.

“I miss you,” you breathe, as he kisses the hollow of your throat.

“As I you, my love.” Daemon purrs, breathing you in. “You simply have no idea…”

But even in the heat of his touch, the fog surrounding you reminds you of the truth. This moment, as real as it feels, is a trick—a fragile connection. You feel him, but not entirely. His body presses against yours, but there’s something missing. You can’t feel the warmth of his skin, can’t hear the familiar rustle of his breath against your ear.

It’s not enough.

“Daemon… this is…” You try to voice out your concern, despite the moment. Dessa was right, your corporeal forms cannot meet through your projection; the two of you stand in your bedroom, but everything seems to be enveloped in a thick haze. If you press hard enough, you think your fingers will simply pass through Daemon as if he were a spectre. You realise that he knows this, too, but chooses to ignore it.

He tries to brush it off, tries to ground you in the present. “This is the closest we’ve been in far too fucking long, my love.” His voice cracks slightly, his frustration bleeding through. “It would have been sooner if those cunts made greater effort to—”

You snort, confronted once more with how brash he can be. “Daemon, those cunts? Really? I am one of them, you know. Besides, it’s not their fault.”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” he mutters, his lips tugging into a slight smile as he rests his forehead against yours. His hands roam your back, pulling you impossibly closer. “Let me have this. Have you. I need you.”

He’s right. In physical form or otherwise, he is still your Daemon. And you have craved each other too much to be denied any kind of reunion.

“Okay.” Your hand reaches up to cradle his face, and he leans into it. He then looks around, appraising your chambers, as he used to say.

“Nothing has changed.” He hums, while holding you tightly to him, as if he’s afraid that you might dissolve into the fog. “What is this now? Ever the reader, my heart.” He reaches for the crisp, new paperback novel lying on your dresser.

You snort softly. “Oh, that’s… yeah, someone lent it to me.”

“It certainly does not seem too suited to your tastes.” His tone is bemused, and he turns the book over in his hand.

You let out a humourless laugh. “Astute observation. It’s my neighbour’s. He apparently thought I needed something new to read.” When he gave you the book, Tom happily explained how he thought you should, “…expose yourself to other things. Things you possibly haven’t tried out before. New films, books, friends. You know to help you forget all about…”

Daemon’s eyes narrow slightly, the shift in his posture immediate, almost imperceptible, but you’ve always been able to read him. He lowers the book slowly, his gaze hardening with suspicion. “Your neighbour — what was he called? Tim?”

“You remember his name, Daemon.” You roll your eyes at your lover, and his poorly-veiled jealousy. You were one and the same.

Daemon’s lips curl, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “You have been letting him inside your house?” His voice drops an octave, the dangerous undertone unmistakable. His hand rests on your waist, possessive, reminding you that you are his.

You nod slowly, carefully. “He’s been visiting every now and then. It’s not a big deal.”

Daemon tilts his head, his smirk darkening into something more sinister. He leans in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Has that mongrel taken my place, dearest?”

Your breath catches in your throat, his words sending a jolt of heat through your veins. There’s an unspoken challenge in his voice, and your heart races in response. But you don’t back down.

With a calm you don’t entirely feel, you lift your chin and meet his gaze, eyes locked in a battle of wills. “Has any lady taken mine? In that amazing, grand realm of yours, Prince Daemon?” Your fingers slip beneath the collar of his tunic, the soft fabric yielding to your touch as you ghost your fingertips across his skin.

Only Daemon has ever been able to elicit this out of you.

He enjoys the way you directly meet his eyes, unwavering in your stead. No one ever looked at him in such a way; not one has ever seen him as you do. Daemon has always inspired fear and intimidation in others. Those who find themselves comfortable enough to hold a conversation with the Rogue Prince tend to feel ill at ease or on their guard. As if he might turn on them at any moment.

People usually mosey up to him because of a favour. Because of his status, his reputation. Because they want something out of him.

But not you. No. Daemon knows that he has only ever inspired love in you.

Well, that and what might have been absolute surprise followed by wariness, when he was suddenly sprung into your world, injured and in a coat of full armour.

He chuckles, a low, throaty sound, before kissing you again, slower this time, savouring the feel of your lips against his. The kiss is deep, full of promises and unspoken words, and when he pulls away, he whispers, “No one can ever replace you.”

He has never been a devout man, but in that moment, he curses all the gods that you two are apart. Meeting in this middle-realm is insufficient. He feels you, somehow. But he does not feel you truly, not the goosebumps on your skin and the hitches in your breath. You are there, but you are not.

But it will have to do. For now.

“Is this ailing you? Sustaining a connection like this, in this place?” Daemon asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

You shake your head. “Not really,” you admit, though there’s a heaviness in your limbs that you know will come crashing down later. “Dessa says I’ll feel quite exhausted afterward, but it shouldn’t take too big of a toll on me. At least, it’s not as bad as when I will actually be able to transport myself fully. I’m learning the ropes, and there’s a lot to learn. I mean… this is fucking insane.”

Daemon’s eyes flicker with something unreadable—pride, awe, something deeper. “And here you thought me extraordinary. When it was you all along.”

“Hardly.” You smile in return. “I’m not the only one, it seems. And, my great-grandmother… she was from your world.”

He brushes a stray strand from your face.

Suddenly, the memory of that first night hits you, and maybe you had already known then. Maybe you had always known.

“The Rogue Prince and his Realmwalker. We were always meant to find each other.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them away quickly, unwilling to break the fragile spell that’s bound the two of you in this moment. “Always,” you whisper, the word filled with every ounce of longing you’ve carried for him.

But then panic grips you as the fog begins to dissipate. You can feel your magic waning, the connection fraying.

“Daemon!” you call, but his figure fades quickly.

With a sudden rush, you're pulled back into your realm, losing him once more.

“Fuck!” Daemon curses aloud, his voice echoing through the empty tower. Treesa, ever watchful, takes a cautious step back, unsure whether to comfort or retreat. She’s seen Daemon angry before, but this—this is different.

“My prince?” she inquires softly. “I felt the shift. She made contact, didn’t she? You saw her?”

He shoots her a dark glare, emotions swirling within him. “Get out,” he growls, the anguish unmistakable in his tone as he wrestles with the loss of you.

“She will find a way,” Treesa says, her voice filled with conviction, just before walking through the doorway.

He wonders what you’re doing now. Are you just as exhausted, lying back in your bed, trying to regain your strength after the toll of the projection? He imagines you staring at the ceiling, thinking of him, feeling the same ache in your chest that he feels now.

He curses under his breath again, fists clenching at his sides.

This is unbearable.

December 2023 / the 12th Moon, 113 AC

The clutter of your apartment feels oppressive, and you feel as if you don’t recognise it anymore. Like it’s no longer yours, but not only because of Daemon, but because of everything you've been going through in the past month.

Shadows cling to the corners, stretching out as the waning light filters through the window. Shards of moonstone and ashes are strewn across the floor, remnants of failed attempts, each one a testament to the desperation that fills the air. In the centre of it all, you stand, your palm decorated with pinpricks of blood.

Dessa, once a nurturing figure whom you thought you can lean on, has become an intense shadow, her eyes blazing with expectation. “Again,” she commands, her voice unwavering.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to focus. You feel the familiar warmth of your magic stir within you, a fountain of energy waiting to burst forth. “I can’t keep doing this,” you admit, your voice strained. “I’m exhausted.”

Dessa’s expression hardens, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You must,” she insists, her tone sharper now, laced with an urgency that makes your stomach churn. “Time is running out. You need to learn to harness your power. It’s the only way to reach Prince Daemon.”

A flicker of anger rises within you, as it had several times before. On one occasion, you had nearly screamed in an outburst, saying, “If it’s that important, why can’t you just transport me to Westeros yourself? You’re the one with the experience.”

The air had grown thick as Dessa’s eyes flashed with something dangerous. “If I could, don’t you think I would have done it already? It takes immense power to transport another Realmwalker, and it might harm me in the process.”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you. Dessa has sacrificed so much, and it’s not fair to place your own frustrations on the woman who has dedicated herself to training you. Yet, beneath the guilt lay an undercurrent of anger—a rising tide that threatens to drown you in self-doubt.

“I’m tired of feeling weak,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dessa’s expression softens for just a moment, but it quickly hardens again. “Weakness is a luxury we cannot afford,” she replies, her voice firm. “Every moment you hesitate, you risk losing him forever.”

The words strike a chord, igniting a fire within you. You feel the heat of your magic surge, almost instinctively. It catches you both off guard, your energy force spilling out unbidden.

The air crackles around you as your power begins to swell, something that demands to be unleashed. Your connection to Daemon calls to you, guiding you through the storm. And for a moment, you stand on the precipice of something immense.

“Channel that feeling!” Dessa encourages. “Let it guide you! You’re capable of so much more than you realise.”

With a determined breath, you extend your hands, feeling the now-familiar rush of energy coiling within you. You recall the incantation, the rhythm of the words echoing in your mind, and you begin to chant.

Dessa watches, her expression shifting from pride to mania, and you catch a flicker of something darker behind your mentor’s facade. The obsessiveness in her eyes, the way she leans in closer as if willing the magic to surge faster—it’s unsettling.

“Keep going!” Dessa urges, her voice now tinged with a hint of urgency that hints at deeper stakes. “You’re almost there!”

Your pulse races, the magic thrumming through you like a living entity. But you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. It feels like a game of cat and mouse, where you are the latter, running from unseen predators lurking in the shadows.

You feel the world around you dissolve, and in the swirling chaos, you steel yourself for what lies ahead.

With a final surge of strength, you push yourself into the void.

You are no longer in your apartment.

The familiar surroundings of your measly apartment have vanished, replaced by a darkness punctuated by the soft glow of stars overhead. A cool breeze brushes against your skin, carrying the earthy scent of pine and damp soil. As your heart races, a thrill courses through your veins—you’ve done it.

You’ve Realmwalked, so to speak, and the woods you stand in are unfamiliar, but you sense that you’ve landed in Westeros. Hopefully, close to where Daemon is, if your visualisation proved effective.

But something feels off. As you stand there, trying to catch your breath, an uneasy sensation creeps into your chest. There’s something lurking in the shadows. Something—someone—is watching you.

With quick, purposeful steps, you begin making your way through the dense trees, senses heightened as you listen to every rustle of leaves, every whisper of wind. The path before you is faint, but you follow it, hoping it will lead you closer to Daemon. The thought of him fuels your determination, but the further you walk, the deeper the sense of unease sinks into your bones. The woods feel alive, as though the very ground beneath your feet is shifting. Something is wrong.

Then, as if answering your fear, a figure steps out from the shadows. She’s tall, with sharp, regal features and eyes that seem to pierce through the darkness.

You freeze, heart pounding in your chest.

“You are finally here,” the stranger says, her voice smooth yet dripping with sinister intention. “We have been waiting for you.”

Panic rises in your throat. “Where… where is Prince Daemon?” The question flies out of you.

Her lips curl into a predatory smile as she steps closer. “You have come to us, just as we hoped. Dessa was right. I can… feel you… and you are more powerful than my sister made you out to be.”

“What do you want from me?” you demand, though a part of you already knows the answer. If Dessa is her sister, this can only be Treesa or Verness. Realmwalker too, from what little you’ve heard of them.

There’s something deeply unsettling about the way she looks at you—like you’re not a person but a weapon, an object, something to be used.

“The time has come to fulfil our plans,” Treesa replies, her smile chilling as she closes the distance between you. “You were the last Realmwalker in Korzion. Your power is vital for what is to come.”

“I won’t be part of your plans. I just came here for Daemon,” you spit, taking a step back. But as you do, you feel the weight of Treesa’s magic press down on you, nigh inescapable.

“You do not have a choice,” she says, her voice soft and musical, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “You are part of something much bigger than you can comprehend. You cannot escape it.”

And then it hits you. This was a trap all along. You were led here—by Dessa, by their lies—and now they have you. All the training, the pushing, it was never about helping you find Daemon. It was about getting you here, into their hands.

Before you can react, Treesa makes her move. With a flick of her wrist, a sudden wave of magic surges toward you. Your entire being feels heavy as the force of it pulls you down. You try to fight it, adrenaline roaring through you as you attempt to run, but it’s too late. She has the upper hand.

Treesa steps closer, her voice laced with satisfaction. “You are ours now.”

Your vision blurs as Treesa’s magic takes hold, and suddenly, everything becomes fuzzy.

“No,” you mumble weakly, your body collapsing against the cold, damp earth. “I won’t let you…”

“Let me?” she laughs mockingly.

Just as you succumb to nothingness, you mumble weakly, “Daemon will find me...”

Not far from the edge of the woods, a few smallfolk huddle near their huts, tending to their evening fires. The sky above is painted with the deep coating of the midnight hour when they notice something strange—a woman, dressed in unfamiliar garb, struggling against another in the distance. They don’t dare get too close, but they watch, wide-eyed, as the second woman drags the first into the shadows of the trees.

A few whispers are exchanged, and soon, one of the men runs off to report what he’s seen to the Gold Cloaks.

Hours later, word reaches the Red Keep. The rumour travels quickly—Gold Cloaks to the Kingsguard, the Kingsguard to the Hand, and finally, it reaches the ears of King Viserys himself.

He listens with a frown, trying to make sense of the strange report. But it isn’t until Daemon enters the room that everything clicks into place.

Daemon’s expression shifts the moment he hears the tale. The description of the woman—the unfamiliar clothes, her behaviour—it all points to one thing, one person.

You.

“She is here,” Daemon says, voice tight with certainty. “I know it.”

Viserys looks at him, startled by the sudden intensity in his brother’s voice. “Do you truly believe so?”

Daemon nods, his heart pounding. “She has to be.”

Before Viserys can respond, the heavy doors of the throne room swing open. Otto Hightower enters, purposefully striding towards the gathering at the head of the room.

“Your Grace,” Otto begins with a slight bow, his eyes flickering over Daemon. “There has been another incident. The priestess Treesa… She is nowhere to be found within the Red Keep. Her chambers have been emptied, and we also questioned the servants, to no avail. She is no longer here to be subject to questioning.”

Daemon’s jaw tightens, a fury building inside him. His voice is cold, his temper barely contained. “When did anyone last see her?”

“in this previous twilight's hours,” Otto replies. “Since then, there has been no sign of her. I have sent guards to roam the keep, but nothing.”

Daemon lets out a harsh laugh, though there’s no humour in it. “Of course she is gone. Mayhaps they have been planning this the whole time. And we let them.”

The realm feels unsteady beneath his feet, the ground trembling with the potential for chaos. Do they not know who he is? Are they not afraid of what he is capable of? Even devoid of sorcery and magic and whatever fucking trickery those priestesses have devised, he is still Daemon Targaryen.

“Prepare the men,” he orders, voice sharp and decisive. “We will search every inch of the Seven Kingdoms until we find her.”

If they think they can take what is his, they will learn that he is not called the Rogue Prince for nothing.

And he will find you.

*flashback* February 2023 / the 2nd Moon, 113 AC

One chilly evening, you decided to introduce Daemon to the concept of proper movie night. You had gathered a few classics, a mountain of blankets, and an assortment of snacks that would put any royal feast to shame.

“I still cannot believe that this is how you spend your evenings, ” Daemon mutters sardonically as he examined the spread.

“You know it. It’s all about relaxation and enjoyment,” you replied, tossing him a handful of popcorn.

You settled onto the couch, and as the opening credits rolled, Daemon found himself surprisingly captivated, laughing at moments that you found endearing.

“What sorcery is this?” he exclaimed after a particularly action-packed scene. “How can a mere flickering light command such power?”

“It’s all about storytelling,” you explained, leaning closer. “It takes you away from your world, even if just for a moment.”

He turned to you, his expression softening. “And what story do you wish to escape to, my love?”

As you paused to consider his question, you felt a warmth spreading within you. The film played on, but your mind raced to find the right answer. For the first time in your life, you realised that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to escape to anywhere anymore.

You glanced at Daemon, his eyes reflecting the light from the screen, a small smile dancing on his lips. In this shared space, enveloped by blankets and laughter, you understood that he had become a part of your story. Whether it be in distant lands or magical realms, or simply in the confines of your apartment, if he was with you, then it would be an adventure.

It would be a tale worth telling.

“I think,” you said softly, as you faced the screen with a faraway look in your eyes, “I’ve found a place where I want to stay.”

Daemon’s brow furrowed slightly, and he studied you with a look that suggested he understood more than you had said.

“As do I,” he replied.

series taglist: @omgsuperstarg @moonmaiden1996 @iilsenewman @padfootsvixen @teapartydreams @sleephereicome @dixie-elocin @simplymurdock @cecespizza01 @imissyoudarling @rentsturner @itevilhag @kindaslightlyacidic @naelys-the-aster @zoleea-exultant @moongirl27 @schniiipsel @dreaming-for-an-escape @llovinjoonie @outocean @caspianobsessed @grimistangel @ladespedidas @nanabarnes @luckythirtxn97 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @stella-cadante @milber32 @canvashearts @nitimurinvetitumsposts @kryzeira @captainweirdo42 @eternallyvenus @fuzzybunny83 @cookielovesbook-akie @queenofshinigamis @avadakadabra93 @rebeccawinters @partypoison00 @misspendragonsworld @praline357 @mysingularitybts @milber32 @rikishima19 @ivvypg @novellaquill @fan-goddess @ayamenimthiriel @uniquecroissant

Some notes in the margins...

This chapter was a bit dry, I must admit. But consider it as a setup for the fiasco that is the finale, which will be 18+. Just a heads up.

Any guesses on what will happen? As always I am keen to hear your thoughts 🖤

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fanfiction #fire like yours #house of the dragon #hotd #matt smith #matt smith x reader

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illusioncanthurtme--art · 2 months ago

Note

You know, i think i a litlle tiny part of ford kinda wishes he wins.

Just FOR SCIENCE!!

How would pregnancy work on a cisman?

Will he just grow a womb and then they will have to give borth with that surgery i forgot the name?

Yes Yes he knows all about pregnancy... in theory.

That little voice in his mind goes, but we can feel it hands on! The world NEEDS to get this knowledge.

That little voice :JOURNAL4! JOURNAL4 LET'S DESCRIBE OUR PREGNANCY.

the rest of Ford's brain is in denial that voice exists

HAHAHA YEAH you're definitely right!!

Hopefully I'll delve into his curiosity arc soon.

I can't believe I'm saying that LMAO, WHAT HAVE I BECOME. WHAT'S HAPPENING

You've brought up an interesting point though, because I honestly don't know. I haven't given it too much thought, besides the fact that the whole thing is terribly cryptic and ford knows it. But the mention of a c-section reminds me of something: If this whole thing ends with ford actually getting pregnant, I'd like to base the baby on the recent May 9th event, where a book of bill artist drew the aftermath of the "SEE YOU IN NINE MONTHS PAPA" ultrasound from the website. And in his tweet, he says "After a long and difficult pregnancy and a complicated C-section, I have great news for you: you are a parent! Say hi to your new son, Papa!"

Here's the tweet if you wanna see it

So yeah. You may be onto something LOL

#ask #answered #nonamenotitles

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librababe99 · 10 months ago

Note

Veronica, please stroll with me.

Imagine fem!reader caught Jason humming and then singing a few lines from one of these songs (your choice to pick!): angel baby, die with a smile, i like me better while idly folding clothes, looking so domestic (ughhh, my heart, also idk if it sounds right...english is not my main language) and cozy and war-

Imagine his face! Flustered, yes! Cute, yes! Cheeks looking so squeezeable, 100×yes!

And the ending? You and him sing together while cuddling!

Kat!! Another solid request😍😍 I love all of the song recommendations you gave, but I decided on "Die With A Smile" ---Plus Jason in a domestic setting *swoons*

Title: Die With A Smile

cw: NONE. Fluff. Jason Todd x Fem Reader

Summary: In the Warmth of your shared apartment, you realize how much Jason means to you, cherishing the tender intimacy that exists beyond the chaos of Gotham's streets.

WC: 1.3K

A/N: To enhance the experience I recommend listening to the instrumental version of the song (Here!) while you read along <3

The apartment was quiet when you stepped through the front door, a welcome change from the chaotic rhythm of the city that always seemed to vibrate through Gotham’s streets. You had expected it to be silent—Jason was usually either buried in his work or out on the rooftops, chasing down something far more dangerous than the late autumn chill that clung to the air.

Ooh, Ooh

You paused, sliding your shoes off with a quiet thud, and closed the door without making too much noise. The melody became clearer now, and it wasn’t hard to place the song. Jason wasn’t exactly the type to blast pop music in his free time, but you’d caught him humming to it more than once when he didn’t think anyone was listening.

I, I just woke up from a dreamWhere you and I had to say goodbyeAnd I don't know what it all meansBut since I survived, I realized

But instead, the soft hum of a familiar tune drifted through the air.

Following the sound, you found him in the kitchen, half-hidden by the doorway, his back to you as he worked on something at the counter. He hadn’t noticed you yet, to absorbed in his task, his humming getting louder as the chorus approached.

Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow Nobody’s promised tomorrow So I’ma love you every night likes its The last night Like it’s the last night

Your breath hitched at the sight. There was something so intimate about this—Jason completely relaxed, not donning his Red Hood mask or the weight of his past trauma. He was just himself—a man in a worn t-shirt, hair tousled from sleep or maybe just laziness, muscles flexing as he absentmindedly stirred something on the stove. His voice, though unpolished, carried a soft warmth that tugged at your heart.

If the world was ending I’d wanna be next to you If the party was over And our time on Earth was throughI’d wanna hold you just for a while And die with a smile

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed as you watched him, a small smile curling on your lips. How had you gotten so lucky? Jason wasn’t just the damaged vigilante the world saw. He wasn’t only the hard-edged, brash man he had been shaped into by Gotham’s cruelty. He was this—soft, thoughtful, utterly unguarded in the safety of your home.

If the world was ending I’d wanna be next to you

His presence was like gravity, always pulling you back, always reminding you that no matter what he did when the mask was on, he was yours in moments like this.

Jason started to sing under his breath as the song reached its crescendo, his voice uncharacteristically light and free. You could tell he was lost in thought, barely aware of what he was doing. It was such a simple thing, and yet it filled you with a warmth you couldn’t quite put into words.

It wasn’t the moments of adrenaline-fueled action that you cherished, though those had their place. It was this—the quiet, the mundane, the feeling of being a part of his life when the world wasn’t crashing down around you. It was the way his eyes softened when you were alone, how his touch became more tender. He was so much more than the Red Hood. He was your Jason.

Oooh, Ooh

You didn’t want to interrupt the moment, but as if sensing your presence, Jason suddenly paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying that gravelly edge that always seemed to linger even when he was relaxed. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though you could see the faint surprise in his eyes. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” you teased, pushing off the doorway to cross the kitchen toward him. “Didn’t know you were so into pop ballads.”

He chuckled, setting the spoon down before turning fully to face you, leaning casually against the counter. “What can I say? I’ve got layers.”

Oooh, lost, lost in the words that we scream I don’t even wanna do this anymore cause you already know what you mean to me and our love’s the only war worth fighting for

You raised an eyebrow, resting your hands on his chest as you closed the distance between you. “More than you let on,” you murmured, letting your fingers trace along the worn fabric of his shirt. There was something intoxicating about being this close to him—his warmth, the scent of coffee and whatever he was cooking, the way his hands instinctively found their place at your waist.

Jason’s gaze softened, his thumb brushing lightly against your hip. “You okay?”

Your heart swelled at the concern in his voice. Even after all this time, he always checked in, always made sure you were alright. It was a little thing, but it meant the world to you.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your eyes meeting his, drinking in every detail of him. “Just… appreciating the view.”

Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow Nobody’s promised tomorrow

He smirked, tilting his head as if to challenge you. “Oh yeah? You like what you see?”

“Always.” The word slipped from your lips without hesitation, filled with quiet sincerity.

So i’ma love you Every night like its The last night Like it's the last night

His expression shifted, the teasing edge fading into something softer, more vulnerable. It was moments like this that made you realize how deeply you connected—no words needed, just the shared understanding that you had both found something rare in each other.

Jason pulled you closer, wrapping his arms fully around you now, holding you tight against him as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The world outside your apartment seemed so far away, like it didn’t exist at all.

You stood like that for what felt like hours, just holding each other, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. Eventually, Jason pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice barely a whisper as he broke the silence.

“You know I don’t deserve you, right?”

You lifted your head to look at him, frowning at the hint of self-doubt in his voice. “You deserve more than you think, Jason.” Your hand cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing gently over the rough stubble. “You deserve this—us. Everything.”

If the world was endingI’d wanna be next to you If the party was over And our time on earth was through

His eyes searched yours for a moment, the tension slowly melting away as your words sank in. Then he smiled—a real, genuine smile, one you only ever saw in moments like these.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, his voice low and full of affection.

You smiled back, leaning in to kiss him softly. The kiss was slow, unhurried, a quiet promise between you. When you finally pulled apart, Jason rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of your apartment.

I’d wanna hold you just for a while And die with a smile If the world was ending I’d wanna be next to you

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice rough but gentle. “Let’s go sit down before I burn dinner.”

You laughed softly, and together you moved to the couch, settling in as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Jason pulled you into his arms again, and you nestled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder.

Right Next to you Next to you

For a long time, you simply sat there, the soft hum of the city outside the only sound. You could feel the steady rise and fall of Jason’s chest beneath you, his warmth surrounding you like a blanket. It was the kind of moment you wished you could freeze in time, hold onto forever.

And as you closed your eyes, listening to the faint, lingering melody of the song still playing in your mind, you knew one thing for certain—this, with Jason, was everything you had ever wanted.

Right next to you Ooh-ohh

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zacwuv · 5 months ago

Text

“SOOTHING ACHES” a Sidon x Link 18+ fanfic | 2 Dicks / Rough Sex / Messy / 4.3k Words / Minors DNI pls

Sidon and Link reconnect at the Goron City hot springs. (Set after the events of BOTW)

Story start:

Upon arriving at the Goron Hot Springs, Link is surprised to find Sidon already wandering the area. He approaches Link with the whirlwind of energy that Link has become accustomed to receiving from Sidon since they first met.

“LINK!” he booms, and lifts Link into a crushing hug despite all of the gear on his back. Link wheezes into Sidon’s shoulder, but smiles through it. “My dear friend. It’s so good to see you!”

Link nods against his neck and feels his muscles relax into Sidon’s friendly embrace. Link doesn’t know when that response developed, but he has to admit that he and Sidon’s monthly meetings have become a sort of respite for Link. Despite Ganon being gone, there’s still so much work to be done for Hyrule, and thus, so much politics. That side of world-saving has always been Zelda’s forte, but unfortunately, there aren’t many others to represent Hylians at the moment. So, until there are, Link has to brush elbows with the bureaucrats just as much as Zelda has to. Zelda tries to comfort Link by reminding him that at least it’s better than what life was like before.

Link understands where she’s coming from. But, secretly, he misses the gritty combat and exhaustive exploration. He misses pushing himself to limits he never knew existed, and pushing his mind into solutions against life or death. The thrill, the unknown, the adventure…

Is Link complaining that life is too peaceful now? Possibly. But just as possibly, perhaps he was never meant for geo-political communications. Not to sound brutish, but…he’d rather punch things. Talking out problems makes Link want to pull out his teeth.

“Link?” Sidon questions against the side of his head. Link startles. Sidon is still holding him above the ground, and he stares down at Link with a frown. “Where did you go?”

Where did he go? Link stares up at him in confusion. He shrugs.

“I’ve said your name several times. You must be exhausted. You were meeting with Bludo all morning.”

Link closes his eyes and drops his head against Sidon’s chest with a heavy sigh. Yes, he was. Altogether it was supposed to just be a simple check in, an overview of the current state of monster sightings. But Bludo tends to get off topic - at length. Link will still think they’re talking about the East Death Mountain border, when suddenly he’ll realize that Bludo has somehow transitioned to his aching knee. It’s almost amazing how subtle the Goron is, if it wasn’t also incredibly irritating.

Sidon bellies a hearty laugh and sets Link on his feet. “My friend, you need a moment of reprieve. And what better place to do it! Look at how fantastic these pools are!”

As Sidon steps away to gesture at the glistening hot springs, Link starts taking off his weapons and gear. These days, there aren’t many monsters to use them on, but he likes to be prepared. Sidon carries the conversation as Link piles his things to the side, then starts to take off his clothes.

“I’m ecstatic we’ve decided to meet here before our journey together. I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by! I have always heard tales of the Goron’s heated water, and I wonder - Oh, Link! Should I take my outer clothes off as well?”

Standing naked at the edge of a spring, Link looks Sidon up and down and nods. It’s not that Sidon is even technically wearing clothes, but there are a few fine jewelry and cloth items on him.

Sidon talks as he takes them off. “We usually keep our accessories on even while swimming. But I want the full experience!” He places the last metal bracelet atop his tiny pile beside the spring. “There we go!” He claps and rubs his hands together. “Let’s do this!”

Link watches, lips twitching, as Sidon approaches the edge and dips a toe into the water. When he gasps loudly and jumps backward, Link doubles over in laughter. “It is HOT!” Sidon yells, and Link continues snorting into his hands.

Link descends into the hot spring casually, just to tease Sidon, even though it is incredibly hot. He always enjoys Sidon’s company. The Zora Prince’s friendly energy and innocent excitement always makes Link’s day better, no matter what he’s up against.

When Link sits on the rock ledge in the water, Sidon puffs himself up and resolutely steps down into the spring, face posed in pure determination and creating waves due to his dramatic steps. Link claps lazily when Sidon finally sits.

“That wasn’t hard,” Sidon smiles. “Just shocking. This is lovely. Have you been here many times, Link? You’re so fortunate to travel across these lands and see all of their cultural gems. When I was younger…”

As Sidon shares stories about his childhood, Link slowly lowers into the water until his head can lean back against the floor. It means the water is almost to his nose, but he doesn’t care. His whole body is melting, finally releasing stress that has been building and aching for months. Link has frustrations when most people monologue at him, but when Sidon does it, Link doesn’t mind. The sound of Sidon’s voice is soothing.

“When we return to my home, I can show you the hidden crevices surrounding our mountain. After you talk with my father, of course. He’ll tell you, there’s been a slew of packs seen on the Southern peak -”

Except when Sidon talks about work. Augh. Just like that, Link’s shoulders tense right back to how they were. He sighs heavily and lowers himself beneath the water. The air bubbles tickle his face as they rise to the surface.

For a moment, it’s only blissful silence and warmth. Then he has to breathe. When Link resurfaces, Sidon is silent with concerned eyes. Link resettles himself without comment.

“Link,” Sidon starts, in a tone that makes Link swallow nervously. “How rested are you?”

Link only shrugs, though the true answer is not at all. For months, he’s been going and going. His body hurts enough that it’s affecting his sleep. He just dazes for hours and hours, staring up at the stars.

“Your shoulders have been held very high. In dealing with Hylians, I’ve learned that’s a sign of stress.” Sidon suddenly beams, and inches closer. “Link! We may be different creatures, but our skeletal and muscular structure have an incredible amount of similarities!” He places his big hand on Link’s shoulder and shakes it gently. “I could soothe you!”

Link stares up at him in confusion. He trusts Sidon, and he sort of understands what’s being said, but he has no idea what Sidon means by soothing or why it would have anything to do with their physical similarities.

“Link, this is perfect!” He flings out his other arm in excitement. “This hot water will help ease your body, and I can help as well! The goddess is looking out for you, as always.” Sidon slips his hand behind Link and pushes him forward. Link allows himself to be moved, but still isn’t keeping up with the conversation. “I’ve trained before on this art, since our diverse terrain requires various physical exploits. Pulled muscles, aching joints. We must take care of our bodies!” Sidon pulls Link in front of him and bends Link over the edge of the hot spring.

Uhm.

Link sits up quickly, flushing red from the positioning. He twists around to stare at Sidon incredulously. But Sidon is smiling wide, sharp teeth glistening, and rubbing his hands together in excitement. “Are you ready, Link?”

Ready for what!?

Sidon’s giant hands swing down so quickly that Link braces himself for impact. He knows Sidon would never hurt him, which may be why a combat response promptly flees from Link’s mind. He’s still surprised though, that when Sidon’s hands meet Link’s skin, it’s with a gentle deftness that pushes into the aching muscles at his back, and makes Link flop against the stone like a ragdoll.

It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t not hurt either. Sidon’s strong thumbs dig into various areas of Link’s back and up to his shoulders. For his shoulders in particular, when Sidon rolls the muscles at the juncture of his neck, it makes Link grip the edge of the rock with white fingers and groan into the ground. It’s a bit overwhelming.

“Deep breaths, Link,” Sidon says softly. “You are doing so much! Always moving, running, fighting, solving, lah, lah lah…all the time. Deep breaths.”

Link breathes in deeply, and as he breathes out, Sidon slides his thumbs down the sides of Link’s spine, to the top of his hips. It sends tingles across Link’s skin.

“For the savior of Hyrule to be so tense…” Sidon mutters behind him. “Link, is your new position wearing you down?”

Link groans again into the ground. He wants to beg Sidon to stop talking, especially about positions, but his thumbs glide back up Link’s back and dig into tense muscles the entire way. Link’s brain is muddled by the confusing mixture of pain and pleasure.

“This reprieve came at the perfect time!” Sidon states, and rolls his fists into the soft spots of Link’s shoulders. Link’s breath wooshes out of him from the intense relief of his muscles yielding. He decides to push the possible oddness of this situation to the side, and allows himself to melt further under Sidon’s hands. Sidon notices, and towers over Link, pushing him down into the ground with more force. “Very good, Link! There we go!”

Sidon continues to encourage Link as if this were a mission. Meanwhile, Link becomes putty under his hands, and goes bleary eyed from the attention. Sidon’s voice fades into a muted sound of praise that washes over Link’s ears like a pleasant waterfall. Big palms and fingers travel to Link’s arms, neck, and hips casually, sometimes digging and sometimes just gripping, or rolling, or grazing. At random times, Link finds himself groaning, shivering, or sighing.

Link is aware that his cock has grown hard, but the ministrations feel too good to be embarrassed, so Link ignores it and sighs into the attention.

That is, until Sidon suddenly grips Link from under his arms and flips him around. “I hope I did well, my frie -”

At the same time they both see the tip of Link’s cock peeking just above the water line. For a moment they’re both silent, then Link’s face heats up and he slowly tenses in embarrassment. Sidon, whose hands are still on Link, notices. He quickly runs his hands down Link’s body in a soothing gesture that does not soothe Link, and in fact, makes it worse.

“Do not be shy, Link! It’s completely understandable and quite flattering, in fact, as I wasn’t sure how well I was doing -” Link grips onto Sidon’s wrists in panic as his hands attempt to travel further. He can’t meet Sidon’s wide eager eyes. “- but now I know I’m rather good at this, aren’t I?” he says with a smile that’s almost sly.

Link gapes at him. Sidon releases a hearty laugh and Link blinks in surprise. Right. This is Sidon. Of course Link shouldn’t be embarrassed.

Except, then Sidon doesn’t say anything for a moment, and just stares at Link’s cock with a considering expression on his face. Link gulps down some sudden nerves and waves a hand in front of his eyes.

“Oh! Sorry, Link,” Sidon laughs. It’s the most nervous he’s ever heard Sidon sound. “It’s just…I’ve never seen a…I’ve never seen…” Sidon stares down at him, mouth opened to speak, but no voice coming out. Then suddenly, he booms, “HYLIAN’S SEXUAL ORGANS ARE QUITE INTERESTING!”

Link flinches back in surprise from his volume and hits the edge of the spring. Sidon rubs his hand soothingly into where Link hit the edge. It makes his skin tingle. They’re so close that Link’s cock almost hits Sidon’s stomach. Link stares down at their distance, mulling over very questionable ideas that are suddenly railing through his head.

“It’s just, I’ve heard that yours are external, and obviously I have seen them in a casual state, as it is hard to miss. But I didn’t realize they got so…long! I suppose. And they’re still mostly the same color as the rest of your skin. Ours are very different, since - what are you doing?”

Link doesn’t know. But he holds Sidon’s big hand and guides it under the water to touch the shaft of his cock. Gently, at first, then Link carefully thrusts his hips forward. Sidon’s face doesn’t change from the open mouth shock it’s frozen in, but his fingers do hesitantly wrap around Link’s shaft. His fingers twitch tightly for a moment, and Link bites his lip against a soft moan.

Sidon leans forward quickly, mouth at Link’s cheeks. He breathes out heavily. Link’s heart races. “Was that sound you?”

Link nods. The pupil’s of Sidon’s eyes go wide, and he shivers.

“I see. That was…nice. You…sound nice.” Link shudders under Sidon’s gaze, stomach flipping. Did he just make Sidon lose his words? “Was it because…” Sidon’s fingers twitch again. Link nods quickly and lets another little moan escape, since Sidon seems to like it.

Sidon’s other arm wraps around Link’s waist as he lifts Link up to sit on the edge of the pool. Sidon is so tall that the top of Link’s head still only comes up to just above Sidon’s chin. Link leans forward and kisses the bottom of his jaw gently.

The fingers on both of Sidon’s hands flex again against Link. “You don’t mind this?”

Link shakes his head.

“May I…explore?”

Link wraps his arms around Sidon’s neck and nods.

“Fantastic,” Sidon chokes out. “Wonderful. Alright, then.”

Slowly, so, so slowly, Sidon drags his hand up and down Link’s cock. The only sound amidst the tension is their heavy breathing.

The sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing from Sidon’s big hands makes Link feel a little crazy. Very soon, his hips attempt to flex forward, but it’s difficult while sitting on the edge. He brings an arm down to brace behind him, then slowly fucks up in time with Sidon’s fist.

“Oh,” Sidon says plainly, swallowing hard. Link moans softly. All sane thoughts have left his brain. This is Sidon. His comrade. Friend. Someone he’s never known shame with. If there’s anyone that Link can let go with, can just be with…

“There’s something…” Sidon thumbs at the precum leaking from the tip of Link’s cock. “It smells salty. That’s similar to ours, did you know?”

Link did not know. He chuckles weakly and tries to encourage Sidon into a quicker pace by speeding his hips, but Sidon either doesn’t understand or he’s too preoccupied by his precum, because he keeps the same agonizingly slow pace that’s melting Link’s brain.

“One moment. I want to see -” Instead of finishing his sentence, Sidon lowers himself into the water until his head is just above Link’s cock. When his tongue drags against the underside and laps at the tip, Link’s hand shoots for purchase on one of Sidon’s head fins. Link moans gutturally and his hips twitch from an almost-orgasm. Link closes his eyes quickly and breathes deeply, cutting it short with difficulty. Some cum still oozes from his tip, and Sidon licks his lips at the sight, eyes blown wide in interest.

“Delicious.”

Link opens his eyes at the sound of Sidons voice. It sounds…deeper, somehow. Gravelly.

“I will not harm you,” Sidon says without looking up at Link. Link is about to ask what he means, but then Sidon opens jaw and swallows down Link’s entire cock.

Link yells in shock and falls onto his back in pleasure, bucking into Sidon’s mouth without meaning to. Sidon’s hands hold down his hips, nails digging into his skin. His long tongue loops around Link’s length and squeezes in time to the excruciating slow pace of the rise and fall of his lips. Link grips onto Sidon’s head fins for dear life, crying out in quick and shaking breaths. He wants to beg Sidon to go faster, harder, anything, everything, but the incredible wet slide of Sidon’s long tongue is so overwhelming that Link can’t seem to catch his breath.

Just as suddenly as it started, Link’s orgasm slams into him. Link writhes as he cums down Sidon’s throat, groaning as Sidon continues to suck even though Link feels wrung dry.

Link gently pushes at his head. With a final drag of his lips and tongue, Sidon slips off of Link’s cock and licks his lips.

“Fantastic,” Sidon growls. Link breathes heavily up at him. His whole body feels flushed and little sparks dance across his skin.

Sidon stands, breathing heavily. The water only reaches to the very top of Sidon’s thighs, so his two hard blue cocks are fully on display, jutting out of their sheath and reaching for Link.

Taking a large breath to steady himself, Link grabs onto Sidon’s hips. Before anything else can be said or done, Link yanks him closer.

Above him, Sidon chuckles. “They’re all yours,” he says, staring raptly down at Link. “Do what you want.”

Link nods and cradles each cock. Just like the rest of Sidon, they’re silky and soft to the touch, and large enough that a thrilling shiver of curiosity runs down Link’s spine. Link releases one to put both of his hands on the top one. Even with both of his hands on the shaft, there’s still a decent amount of length left uncovered.

He squeezes from the base and to the tip, and Sidon groans above him. The sound makes a pang of pleasure shoot straight down to Link’s cock. His heart raps quickly. Link is…excited. That thrill he remembers from the old days rattles in his brain. He wants more.

Link leans forward with his tongue out and drags it against the tip. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Sidon’s fingers flexing at his sides. Under normal circumstances, Link would lead the hands to his hair, but Sidon’s nails are sharp. It’s probably not a good idea.

Speaking of not good ideas…

Link pushes himself up completely to his knees and spreads them wide. He suckles gently at the head of Sidon’s cock and twists one of his hands in motion with his mouth. Above him, a soft growling fills Link’s ears, and sparks of excitement rush down Link’s skin in response. Link slips one of his hands underneath himself to prod at his hole.

As Link sucks Sidon’s cock while stretching himself, Sidon gets progressively more twitchy. Link can see his hands flinch to grab at Link’s head, only to swing back down in frustration. Link wants to laugh in perverse glee, but his mouth is full, so it just sounds like a choked groan.

“Link,” Sidon growls deeply above him. Link truly moans this time, slipping a third finger into himself and quickening the pace of his bobbing head. There’s no precum that Link can taste from Sidon’s cock, but there seems to be a natural lube on the surface. It feels amazing on Link’s tongue. Pretty soon Link has so much of Sidon’s cock down his throat that he can barely breathe.

When Link convulsively swallows, jaw achingly wide to take as much as he can, Sidon’s hips suddenly thrust forward and salty cum explodes down Link’s throat and across his tongue. Link gags, but matches Sidon’s short thrusts as best he can, doing his best to swallow everything. But there’s too much. It spills out the sides of Link’s mouth and down his chest.

Sidon was right. It does taste similar to a Hylian’s.

When Link pops off the softening cock, he takes a desperate breath in and starts coughing so hard that tears spring to his eyes. Sidon grabs both sides of Link’s face and holds him still, leaning over and thrusting his tongue inside Link’s mouth. Sidon licks every crevice he can reach from Link’s wide open mouth, even as Link still tries to catch his breath.

Soon, they’re just open-mouth kissing, tangling their tongues together roughly. Link pushes at Sidon’s chest until he steps back enough so Link can slip his legs back down, then around Sidon’s waist. They continue their frantic kissing as they fumble around for a position.

Sidon raises Link’s legs to his shoulders which doubles Link over himself. Leaning over Link, Sidon completely covers him, impacting his breathing. But honestly?

Fuck it. Link is the fucking savior of Hyrule. He can handle this.

Sidon’s lower cock, still hard, nudges against Link’s entrance but doesn’t quite catch on his hole to slip in. Link huffs in annoyance after a moment of it sliding against his ass to no avail. Sidon laughs into Link’s mouth, the growling almost a purr at this point, and guides his cock against Link with his own hand.

The tip catches and Sidon pushes.

Link worries, for an incredibly painful second, that perhaps he didn’t prep himself enough; or worse, that saving Hyrule may actually have no regard for his ability to have sex with a half-fish man with a monster cock.

Except after that second, the natural lube of Sidon’s cock suddenly kicks in double time, and the blissfully wet slide into Link’s ass fills him to the brim with a full-bodied pleasure that makes Link shake.

Link’s entire mind shuts off and he’s only left as a moaning and desperate mess as Sidon growls deeply in his ear and begins to thrust. One of Sidon’s hands grips at the back of Link’s head, so Link’s only option is to stare up at Sidon’s so-wide-they’re-black eyes. Sidon’s other hand grips harshly onto Link’s thigh, using it as leverage to keep Link completely trapped in place to take Sidon’s progressively more brutal thrusts. Link takes everything Sidon gives, uncaring of the volume of his voice or the nails digging into his skin or the sounds of Sidon’s cock slamming into his ass. Perhaps the Goron’s can hear them even from the town.

Who cares?

Certainly not Link. He’s too busy getting fucked into the ground, possibly literally due to Sidon’s strength and size. He can’t even see anything since his eyes are now rolled to the back of his head. His entire body has melted into a dizzying combination of pleasure and pain, which then only translates to more pleasure. There’s a very real possibility he may faint.

Meanwhile, Sidon certainly doesn’t care about volume or propriety. In fact, he may have completely forgotten where they are. All that’s on his mind now are the frantic thrusts of his hips, and the velvet feel of Link’s ass around his cock. Link stares up at him with such overwhelming wonder that Sidon is surprised to realize that despite Link’s victories, Link may not be allowing himself certain pleasures in life.

Sidon is happy to fix that.

His second cock has grown hard again amidst the pleasure of fucking. Sidon licks at the side of Link’s neck and bears down his last few thrusts to a tortuous grind that makes Link scream. Sidon cums deep inside him, hips twitching with small thrusts, until his cock is spent. He slips it out and straightens his back to stare down at Link with a smile. He can feel how feral he must look, but he doesn’t care. Link looks wrecked beneath him in the best of ways.

Keeping Link’s feet on his shoulders, he holds his re-hardened top cock and thrusts inside with a graveled laugh. Link’s entire body bows upward and his fingers scramble for purchase on the stone. As Link yells out in pleasure, Sidon holds him down at the chest and stomach. Link grabs onto his arms then, and his nails dig into his skin. With every punishing thrust, Sidon can feel the bulge of his cock under his hand on Link’s stomach.

Link’s cock hasn’t been touched, and the sight of Link writhing is so distracting that it frankly hasn’t occurred to Sidon to do so. To Link’s shock, though, an orgasm rips through him with such force that the arch of his cum hits the bottom of his own chin. He gapes at his own cock, sputtering and leaking cum continuously, more than he’s ever cum before.

Sidon’s thrusts and growls become more desperate. Link loses his breath when Sidon seats himself completely inside of Link with a final grunt, then cums. Just as before, it spills out of Link, and Sidon slips out and lets the rest cascade across Link’s body.

For a moment, they’re frozen, breathing heavily, and staring down at Link’s chest and stomach covered by both of their cum. Link is shaking and his vision is a bit blurry. Sidon’s eyes slowly slip back into color. Their eyes meet and a sinking worry blooms in Link’s chest.

Sidon’s lips twitch.

That’s all Link needs in order to know that everything is fine.

They both erupt into giggles that transition into full laughter, until Link needs to lay back completely and close his eyes against his vision swimming in exhaustion. He’s still laughing shakily as Sidon’s arms wrap around him and he’s bundled against Sidon’s chest. He sits them both back in the water and helps Link wipe off his chest.

Between the activity and warmth of the water, Link finds his eyelids immediately drooping. He leans into Sidon, in a manner that may be dangerously close to cuddling. But Sidon’s thumb gently grazes back and forth along Link’s shoulder, and Link sighs happily.

“Rest, little Hylian. I’ll remove you before your body prunes like a raisin.”

Link laughs and pokes at Sidon’s side with a finger. Sidon squeezes him affectionately, and Link knows Sidon has to be smiling, too.

Comfortable and tingling with satisfied exhaustion, Link’s eyes close. He promptly falls asleep into the best nap he’s had in…

Ever.

End.

#soothing aches #loz fanfic #sidlink #prince sidon x link #link x sidon #sidon x link #monster romance #monster lover #hot monster #monster boyfriend #fantasy romance

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narcjsistx · 1 year ago

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Omg heyyy!, I find your writing quite good, keep up the good work ♥️. May i request Izana x gf reader. Just reader being smitten and whipped for him, like he could literally be beating /killing someone and shes just staring with lovesick eyes and thinking 'Oh Izana , such a cutiepie. My cute boyfriend. I'll even help him hide the body if he wants.....'

And Izana stating she is his Queen and the Queen of Tenjiku

— Oh, my toxic loverboy

Izana is my favorite poison, my obsession. I know, I shouldn't feel this way, but I can't help it. Every time I see him, the world comes down to him, every thought, every breath, everything is for him. I want it with such intensity that sometimes it scares me, but it's a fear that I like, that excites me. We found each other, and from that moment it's as if we couldn't do without each other. We are always together, united in this strange vortex that for others might seem toxic, but for us it is everything. I don't want to run away from this, in fact, I just want to dive deeper

— Izana: If I ever had to kill Mikey, what would happen between us?

- You: I would help you get rid of the body, my loverboy

Our arguments, our fights, are just another way to feel alive, remind us of how much we care for each other. It doesn't matter how much we get hurt, because in the end we always come back together, hungrier than before, more eager to own each other. I know that others don't understand, that they look at us with that look of disapproval, but I don't care. No one can understand what it means to be with Izana. He is my dark half, my reflection in a distorted mirror, and I am his. We are united by something stronger than simple attraction, something that consumes and nourishes us at the same time

— Izana: You're a whore when you do that, but please, come home. I need to see you, I love you and you know it

— You: Scream at me one more time and I'll smash that damn record of yours that you care about so much. I'm coming back, I hope it's for a good reason

Izana has become everything to me. I wake up thinking about him, and go to sleep with his name on my lips. And Izana… Izana wants me all to herself. He can't stand the idea that there is something or someone between us. He's jealous of everything, even my time: he isolates me from friends, family, and I let it happen... deep down, I'm convinced it's a sign of how much he loves me

— Izana: You just need me. Others exist only to distance us, right?

— You: I push others away, I need you to breathe. To feel alive I need you to be by my side

— Izana: Good girl

Yet, there is a part of me that feels suffocated. I'm short of air, but I can't tear myself away. When we are not together, I feel lost, empty, as if a part of me remains with him even if I don't know where he is. And when we are close, the whole world seems to disappear. But I know, deep down, that this isn't love: it's obsession. A mutual dependence that is slowly destroying us, but which I can't do without. It's a sick bond, and yet, I would never want to break it

— Izana: We both know it's obsession and not love, right?

— You: Yes. But it doesn't bother me

— Izana: Until death, then?

— You: And even after, my loverboy

The truth is that I got lost in him, or maybe I allowed myself to get lost. I no longer recognize who I was before Izana came into my life. At first, it was like he filled a void I didn't even know I had. His every gesture, every word, seemed to be exactly what I needed, and so I let myself be carried away. I've realized that I no longer make decisions without first asking myself what he would think. Every thought, every action, is filtered through his gaze. And him? He does the same. He tells me that he can't imagine his life without me, that I am his reason for existing after years of suffering

— Izana: You will be my bride within a year maximum, Mrs. Kurokawa

— You: I like your last name

— Izana: I'll like it more when you have it too, love

I have asked myself several times if it is possible to live without him. But the very idea throws me into an irrational panic. It's like I need his chaos, his possessiveness, to feel real. And so, I continue to remain trapped in this relationship that is slowly consuming me, and I like it. I don't know if it's love, or just fear of being alone, but one thing is sure: Izana has become my obsession. And I his

— Izana: Oh, my Queen. The Queen of Tenjiku, the only woman who will ever and never leave my life

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atiny-for-life · 2 months ago

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Ateez's Full Storyline Explained - Part 24

Masterlist

Golden Hour: Part 3 - Diary Entries:

Thanks to @loving-that-officey-feel, I've now been able to get my own version of the Diary Entries, which is why I can tell you how to access them! Upon purchasing the Poca album, you'll receive a QR code which you can scan with the Poca app to receive your digital content - this includes all the songs and a tab labeled "Exclusives" where you'll then find the Diary Entries in both Korean and English.

When we last left of, Wooyoung made his wish to Sopro, which is precisely whose POV we're now reading from at the start of these entries. Yes, it's Sopro itself who's now speaking to us:

I am alive. If anyone were to ask why, I honestly could not answer. For as long as I can remember, I have always been alive. I was not brought into existence by my own will. I had lived without thought until one day, I suddenly became aware – aware of the fact that I had been born. But then, where did I come from? Who am I? What am I?

As we will later be reminded once again, Sopro is not an inanimate object - it's a spirit, a being, something seemingly capable of thought and self-awareness. And as we now find out, also the ability to converse with the world itself:

"Who am I?" I shouted out to the world, hoping the world might answer me. "Who am I?" the world echoed back the same question. It sounded just like my own voice. "So, you don't know who you are either?" I asked the world again. And once again, it responded the same. "So, you don't know who you are either?"

After Sopro's conversation with the world turns out fruitless, we get to see the exact moment it gets to feel emotion for the first time. And what is that emotion? It's pure, overwhelming joy. And soon we'll learn why and how that came to be.

We're with Wooyoung now, the day after he made his wish to Sopro, and it's past noon, though for Wooyoung, it might as well be morning since he only fell asleep at eight a.m.. Still, he's feeling surprisingly good this day and even greets his reflection before he compliments his own appearance and chuckles to himself.

Why he's feeling so upbeat soon becomes apparent when we learn the following:

Wooyoung had made plans with San to attend Hongjoong's book signing event together.

Even more so, we learn that just before the sun rose that morning, the members had all texted Wooyoung, one by one, each to let him know they agreed with him now and also wish to get back together again:

Jongho: I've always related to how you felt. I kept thinking we should come back together as a group, too. Let's try this, hyung! Yunho: Honestly, I was a little scared. But after what you said last night, I realized – there's nothing we can't do. I'm in. Mingi: I woke up this morning feeling like we could do anything. I guess I was just tired last night and got a little grumpy. Let's give it a shot. Seonghwa: Let's see it through this time. As far as we can go. San: I'm always on your side, Jung Wooyoung. You know that, right? I'm with you. Hongjoong: I guess we were all a little afraid, since we'd gone too far down our own paths. But, somehow, I'm sure now – We can really make it this time. Let's make it happen, Wooyoung. Yeosang: I think I said too much. I don't even know why I did that. After sleeping on it, I couldn't help but think, was there really anything more important than our dream? Anyway, I want to be part of this, too.

Internally, Wooyoung then acknowledges that Sopro likely changed his members' minds, but that if they really made it this time, surely they would all be happy in the end, no matter what.

In a flashback to the previous night, we then find out what Sopro's powers look like as they work: it emits a light, one which travels from the mouth of the one who voices the wish to their own body before it disappears.

This matches what we see at the end of Crazy Form when the bluebird soars through the sky: the pulsing bright light as it connects to the people of Strictland, uniting their emotions.

We return to the present where Wooyoung is on his way to the book signing event:

The weather was as bright as his mood. This time, it truly felt like nothing could stop them. Wooyoung was sure of it. Things were already looking up. Some members had become famous in their fields; one could produce music, and another had the means to fund it. It was no longer like those earlier days when all they did - and all they could do - was work hard in vain.

But at the event, just as Wooyoung was about to greet Hongjoong, a fan he was signing a copy of his book for spilled tomato juice directly onto his head in front of everyone but, of course, instead of getting angry, he merely laughs it off:

Hongjoong smiled warmly, reassuring the reader who had spilled the drink. 'Same as ever. I doubt he even knows how to get mad,' thought Wooyoung. Hongjoong had always been like that. He instinctively put others' feelings before his own. Whenever Woo Young had to deal with a difficult passenger, he'd think of Hongjoong – someone born for this kind of work.

Despite Hongjoong's reaction though, Wooyoung gets a little pissed at the fan who proceeds to forego an apology in favor of making a weird joke:

"Hahahahaha! It's like you get to experience Spain's tomato festival right here in Korea! Isn't it great?" Huh? What kind of nonsense was that? That was definitely not the kind of attitude you'd expect from someone who should be apologizing. Wooyoung stared in disbelief. He couldn't hold it in any longer. "Hey, jokes are fine and all, but don't you think you should apologize fir-" Wooyoung was cut off. Because, all at once, the room burst into laughter. People glanced at one another, grinning.

Just then, San arrives but instead of relieving Wooyoung of his confusion as hoped, San merely starts laughing alongside everyone else in their vicinity:

Wooyoung: "Why are you laughing?" San: "Why? Obviously, because I'm happy. Hahahahaha."

But when asked, San can't even tell Wooyoung why he's happy - he just is.

The situation escalates further when another person in line flings their drink at someone. The two involved look at each and yet again burst into laughter, triggering others to follow their example.

All the while, Hongjoong and San simply watch, cackling at the steadily unraveling chaos. And it doesn't stop there.

When someone else decides throwing drinks or getting splashed is no longer enough, they begin ripping pages from the book in their hand and stuffing them in their mouth before chewing on them like a snack. The sight alone leads to even more giggling, more laughter from all around, like everyone has suddenly lost their minds or at least turned into a bunch of children high on sugar.

People begin to copy what they witnessed, leading to more torn pages, more mouths full of paper. And then Hongjoong reaches for the book in front of him and rips one out as well.

But just before he could put it in his mouth, Wooyoung snatched it out of his hand. Wooyoung: "Hyung! What the heck are you doing? Pull yourself together!" Hongjoong: "Hahahaha. Isn't this hilarious, Wooyoung? Hahahaha." "Isn't this hilarious?" Wooyoung couldn't wrap his head around what Hongjoong meant. But for some reason, Wooyoung was laughing too. Wooyoung's reflection in the glass was laughing.

In that moment, Wooyoung realizes what he's thinking and feeling are completely disconnected from one another. The dissociation which comes with the realization leaves him nauseous.

He begins dry heaving, runs to the bathroom, but just as the sixth wave of stomach churning sickness crashes into him, a bright, ruby-red light leaves his mouth and leaves him frozen still.

He stares, watches the thing hover mid-air in front of him. And it's then that his brain clicks: it's Sopro.

Zooming around him, once twice, as if in greeting, it completes its rounds before it whizzes onward and flies right into San's wide-open, laughing mouth.

The sight has the crowd cackling even harder.

Reaching up to his own face, Wooyoung checks if he himself is also still laughing, but discovers he's finally stopped. His expression has turned grave, mirroring his emotions. But for now, he's the only one.

Grabbing Hongjoong and San, Wooyoung begins dragging them the six hundred meters to the fire department Seonghwa is currently working at (where they'd originally planned to meet). But with both of them still cackling, and everyone else they come across also bursting into laughter, the six hundred meters drag on to a one hour walk.

And even when they get there, Seongwha is nowhere to be found. The fire chief's daughter (a big fan of Mingi's) greets them instead and takes them to her father - who is of course also laughing hysterically.

Upon inquiring about Seonghwa's whereabouts, Wooyoung is told a huge fire had broken out at the printing factory so Seonghwa was dispatched to help put it out.

Hearing that it was only a 15-minute walk, Wooyoung decided to head there. It seemed that the fire chief - and all the other firefighters at the station - were too busy laughing. At that moment, Wooyoung wanted nothing more than to find someone who felt the same as he did. He had a faint hope that Seonghwa of all people wouldn't let himself get caught up in this strange phenomenon. After all, he had never seen Seonghwa laugh hysterically before. Seonghwa: "Gyahahahaha! The fire's being extinguished. It's going OUT! Hahahaha."

Although the fire has been brought under control, Wooyoung gets a pounding headache when he realizes everyone was laughing at the burning remains of the factory - including the factor owner himself. The disconnect, the absurdity, is getting to Wooyoung, making him feel like he's the bonkers one for still being serious while everyone around him is so full of joy.

But right as he puts his hands in his pockets and turns away to take a second to just breathe and listen to his own racing thoughts, he finds a crumpled piece of paper in his pocket: the page he'd taken from Hongjoong so he wouldn't eat it. The page from Hongjoong's book.

The text printed on it was about Z's brainwashing speech - one of the ones he'd used to manipulate the people of Strictland.

As he read it, Wooyoung felt a strange sense of irony. How odd, he thought, to find himself relating - even just a little - to the words of Z. Wooyoung: "A small error is a crack, and cracks lead to pain. Pain. Pain is an unnecessary emotion and a negative element in life. We want to protect you all." In the face of the paradoxical situation he was currently trapped in, Wooyoung was stunned. Without thinking, he began to read Z's words out loud. That was when, though it lasted only for a brief moment, Hongjoong, San, and Seonghwa stopped laughing.

The effect only lasts for a second but it's enough for Wooyoung to view it as potentially meaningful, so he does it again:

Wooyoung: "A world without cracks is always beautiful. You, living your life in your position, are the world itself." It wasn't just his imagination. As Wooyoung read Z's speech aloud, the three stopped laughing and clutched their heads, as if struck by a wave of pain. San even began to gag. It was working! Wooyoung: "Don't doubt yourselves. You're always right." He recited the words "Don't doubt yourselves" over and over, and Hongjoong, San, and Seonghwa began to show signs of confusion. San kept gagging until Sopro was finally ejected from his body. At the same time, Hongjoong and Seonghwa screamed in agony from the intense headaches. Sopro, still floating in the air, flew rapidly around them as if it were scanning everything around it. Like a bee, it buzzed past the burnt factory, the bright-red fire truck, the blue sky, and the lush trees. HWUP! Taking in a deep breath, Hongjoong, San, and Seonghwa looked around like they had just woken up from a deep sleep. They were no longer smiling. Finally!

All three call out Wooyoung's name when they come to, leading Wooyoung to put on a policeman-tone to order them not to laugh because he can't stand it anymore.

But of course, that exact tone only has all three of them cackling, leading to a brief period of despair for Wooyoung when he thinks he failed.

Seonghwa: "It's not what you think. It's just... the way you said 'don't laugh!' with such a serious look on your face..." San: "Seriously. How much trouble did we put you through with our laughing?" Only then did Wooyoung finally look up and examine the members' faces. While they were smiling, they weren't laughing hysterically like they had been before. Wooyoung studied the crumpled paper in his hand. As soon as he felt the relief of having the members back to their usual selves, a question arose in his mind. Since Sopro was an item from World Z, he wondered if it might be reacting to Z's words. Wooyoung: "Does this mean that Z saved us?" Hongjoong: "When you were reading that, flashes of the events we experienced in World Z began appearing in my head. It was as if my mind were a giant popcorn machine, and our memories were the popcorn bursting inside." Seonghwa: "It's not so much that Z saved us, but that Z's speech brought back memories of our time there. It caused this burning pain in my head, but then, all of a sudden, my mind cleared."

With no better way to explain what happened, they all run with Seonghwa's theory and look around at the still cackling people around them.

Right. Without having those same memories from World Z, the same words wouldn't work on anyone but the eight of them. So what now?

Still caught up in his thoughts, Wooyoung's attention is drawn by San who asks how all this could have happened in the first place. But before Wooyoung can answer, Sopro decides to continue wreaking some havoc by picking its next host: the printing factory owner.

The man, who had been laughing hysterically as he watched his life's work go up in flames, swallowed Sopro and instantly stopped laughing.

Having found a new host, we're now back with Sopro right as it first left its state of solace, its state of only having the world to talk to, because now it has felt emotion and what it's like to have a body and it's gotten hooked on the experience.

I was so happy. It felt like my chest might burst, and laughter just spilled out of me. People called this feeling - this sense of saying yes to everything - joy. Some called it delight, or amusement, or excitement. Joy, joy, joy. The word sounded so pretty, I couldn't help but say it over and over. Everything felt new-the water splashing into the air, the sunlight sparkling all around, even the simple act of breathing in and out. The crinkle of smiles at the corners of people's eyes, the trees swaying as if waving back. It was all so strange, so beautiful... so exciting, so delightful, so funny, so full of joy. How had I gone my whole life without noticing any of it?

While residing within San, Sopro discovered emotions beyond joy - a whole rainbow of them, but it can't make sense of them so, in search of something new, it leaves its second host on its own accord, only to realize life without a body is dulled. It can't feel this way, can't interact with its surroundings, so it seeks out another body:

It was then that I noticed him, a person who looked just like an empty shell. He wasn't far from the first two hosts I had entered. The man was sitting on the ground, laughing at the sight of a burnt building. And so, I dove toward him. Splash. The sensation was akin to diving into a deep, dark sea. I lost all sense of direction, unsure of which way was up or down. I wanted to escape, and so I kept swimming. After a while, I began to wonder whether I was swimming toward something or simply sinking.

We're back with Wooyoung right as he's getting embarrassed at having to spill what he did with Sopro. As sure as he'd been the night before, saying it all again now in bright daylight felt a bit... awkward.

Recounting the events of last night back to the members, he was reminded of Yeo Sang's words: "Grow up. How long do you plan on acting so recklessly?" Part of him felt so wronged. Is it really so reckless to still be chasing a dream? Is it such a childish thing to do? Embarrassment and frustration fought inside him, and, for a moment, he felt as if he might cry. But he didn't. His ears just burned a deeper shade of red instead. San: "So you think it synchronized our emotions? That sounds half-right... but also half-wrong." Hongjoong: "Sopro didn't come inside me, so I don't really know much about that. What I felt was more like... this overwhelming surge of happiness and joy." Seonghwa: "I guess you could say it was kind of like being a little drunk. Sort of like when you're already in a good mood and the alcohol just makes you even more giddy." Hongjoong: "Yeah, exactly. But unlike alcohol, it didn't mess with my memory or anything. It was just the emotion, vivid and clear, like it was all I could feel"

Hearing them talk like that, Wooyoung feels surprised. He expected a scolding, to get blamed for what he did - chewed out, maybe slapped and told off - but all they were focusing on was the Sopro-situation? Getting more nervous, all he can think about is that he just wants to get the consequences over with.

Wooyoung: "Sorry. It's my fault you all got dragged into this mess." Seeing how visibly deflated Woo Young looked, the members began confessing their own wrongdoings one by one, looking as though they had no other choice. Hongjoong: "You know, three years ago, when we were all starting to get busy on our own and drift apart, I thought about using Sopro myself. I even went to see Yeo Sang about it, but ended up turning back empty-handed." San: "Back when I first started setting up my food truck, I needed money, so I went to ask Yeo Sang for help. That day, I saw Sopro at his house and also thought for a second that maybe I should use it to bring us back together. But honestly, I was too afraid to even touch Sopro, so I never did." Seonghwa: "I think it was some time around the start of this year? I was drinking with Yeo Sang, and he pulled out Sopro. He said he still feels guilty whenever he thinks about how his father's opposition split us apart. Now that he's strong enough to protect us, he wondered if we could come together through Sopro-at least in spirit."

Their confessions cause something within Wooyoung's mind to click: he'd been so sure Yeosang had given up on their dream of being together, but... How could he have ever thought that when it was Yeosang who'd sacrificed himself by breaking the Cromer so the rest of them could be safe? If anything, Yeosang had always valued them and their dream above all else.

Seonghwa: "Using the buzz as an excuse, we were actually planning to activate Sopro. I also really missed our time together a lot. But then, suddenly, Yeosang said something." "Hey, hyung... What if what the guys are doing right now becomes their dream?" Seonghwa recalled how Yeosang's words snapped him back to his senses. Lost in the past, he had momentarily forgotten about his dream of becoming a firefighter. Seonghwa liked his job as a firefighter. While it may not have been his original dream, that didn't mean it lacked any meaning to him. "What if-and these are all just 'what-ifs.' What if the guys have found new dreams? If we were to use Sopro now, and go back to how things were in the past, wouldn't that mean I'd be robbing the members of their dreams again?" Seonghwa: "Your first love isn't your only love. And that is why, in the end, we put Sopro back in its place." Though the red hue in his ears had faded, Woo Young felt even more embarrassed than before. He realized that Yeosang was definitely so much more mature than himself. Even the fact that he had felt resentful for a brief moment made him feel ashamed now.

Voicing his thoughts, Wooyoung hangs his head while San and Seonghwa both step up to him, each wrapping an arm around one of his shoulders, leaving him in their midst while Hongjoong steps up to him:

Hongjoong: "We're not saying all this to make you feel bad. What I wanted to say is that we all wanted to use Sopro, too. There's no need to blame yourself." Hongjoong gently tousled Wooyoung's hair. How could Wooyoung not love these kind-hearted, understanding friends of his? It made him realize once again that, while he did want to make music and perform and dance on stage, the most important part of that dream was being together with the other members that he loved so dearly. Looking at the three pairs of feet gathered around him in a circle, Wooyoung clenched his fists. This was no time to wallow in self-pity. He was the one who awakened Sopro, and it was up to him to find a way out of this.

Recalling what Left Eye told them back in Z-World about the creation of Sopro, Wooyoung explains it must have reacted to Z's words as a result of its origin.

The members nod in agreement, yet Hongjoong also points out that no one else but them reacted to the quotes, which means something else might be going on.

But right as he says it, everyone stops laughing at once.

The four of them look around.

All while they were still trying to make sense of what had happened, a fire hose suddenly fell to the ground with a thud. The firefighter, who was wrapping up, let go of the fire hose and slumped to the floor with a heavy sigh. Waaaaahhhh. He groaned, and soon after, he burst into tears. His crying grew louder and louder until it was a sorrowful, heavy sob. It sounded both deeply painful and sad. Wahhhhhhh Waaahhhh. The sound of crying erupted all around them like a water dam breaking into a flood. The whole city - its shops, apartments, house-lined streets, and public squares - filled with sadness. The members, who had been making their way out of the alley and looking around the main street, seemed momentarily overwhelmed by the grief and paused for a moment, holding their breath.

Upon realizing the printing factory owner has disappeared, Wooyoung finally understand what happened and what it means for the rest of them. Swiftly telling the others, all four take off in a sprint, hoping to quickly track down the source of everyone's grief.

As they run, they find people previously caught up in laughter now slumped over on the ground, either sobbing loudly or lying motionless as they cry silently. The ones still standing have their faces buried in their hands as they weep.

And this? This is worse than the laughing had been.

After a while, it's San who points out Yeosang who seems to have been on his way to Jongho's recording studio before he froze still, overcome by grief and now silently crying.

The image of Yeo Sang standing there on the other side of that glass window reminded them of how he had looked trapped by the Guardians and desolate of hope. It seemed as though while Yeosang's body was here in World A, his mind was still stuck in that moment, in that place in World Z. Tears flowed from his empty eyes. Wooyoung: "Yeo... sang." At the sound of his name being called, Yeosang lifelessly turned to look at Wooyoung standing outside the window. Seeing the deep, dark despair clouding Yeosang's eyes, Wooyoung felt his breath catch in his throat. Back then, after the others had finally made their way back to World Z and saved Yeosang, it was as though he'd lost his voice – as though he were someone who had lost all feeling, devoid of emotion and showing no reaction even to the members' words. It wasn't until much later that Yeosang began to open up about that time. "I thought there was no way out. At first, I tried to find ways to survive, to escape, but before long... I realized there was no way. I don't know if the Guardians stole my emotions from me, or..." Yeosang swallowed his words and left the thought unfinished, but the members knew what he meant to say. Though they wanted to fully understand what Yeosang had gone through during his time trapped alone there, they also knew that there are times when effort alone is not enough. The most they could do for him was to hold his frozen hands and hope that the warmth might reach his heart. No words felt right – no words were enough. As if he understood everything without needing it to be said, Yeosang simply smiled, bright and gentle, and continued: "Still, I like who I am more now, after having gone through all of that. I used to think that there was no way out, but it turns out that was just something I decided when I was lost in despair. There's a huge difference between living with that understanding and living without it, don't you think?" After going through all of that, Yeosang would sometimes joke that he was, by far, now the most mature of them all – If anything, they should all be calling him hyung. And so, the members believed that Yeosang had overcome his pain and that they understood, at least to some extent, the pain that he had endured. But that was all only an illusion. In Yeosang's dark, tear-filled eyes, the wounds left by despair and fear were still there, raw and unhealed. Someone once said that even a speck of one's pain feels heavier than the vast pain of others – that it's the same for everyone. And now, Wooyoung felt like he finally understood what that meant. The pain he had thought was unbearably heavy was, in truth, so small compared to what Yeosang had endured – or was perhaps still enduring.

Shoving the plan of chasing down the factory owner aside, Wooyoung dashes forward and rips open the glass door to get to Yeosang, incapable of bearing the idea of him being trapped another second.

As soon as he reaches him, he grabs Yeosang's hand, feeling cold skin just as he had back then. In his mind, Wooyoung hopes his own warmth will be able to reach Yeosang.

'I finally understand your dream now, Yeosang. You wanted to be free. From the cage your father put you in, from the Guardians' glass room... And you are, Yeosang. You made it. You built a world of your own, and you found the strength now to protect both yourself and everything you hold dear. You're amazing, you know that? Truly incredible.' Wooyoung spoke with his heart as he clutched Yeosang's hand and looked into his dark eyes, praying that his feelings would somehow reach him. And at that moment, he saw it – a small flame flicker to life in Yeosang's once lightless eyes.

The tears pouring from Yeosang's eyes ceased but he was still visibly sad, so Wooyoung's keeps hold of his hand and pulls him along as they continue onward to Jongho's studio alongside the others.

When they arrive, Jongho is surprisingly well - no tears, just calmness. Sopro seemingly had no effect on him.

Despite his cute appearance, Jong Ho could be almost frighteningly incredible. Jongho: "I just got lucky. I was listening to ATEEZ's music when it all happened."

After texting with Wooyoung last night, Jongho headed straight to the recording studio so he could start figuring out what kind of music they'd be making together from now on - the excitement had been to great to simply stay home and wait for their meeting the next day.

Earlier, Sorpo had actually been able to influence him too, but his joy had led him to play Ateez's music from their time in Z-World which had brought back all the memories. The pain resulting from that had then brought him back to his senses.

Jongho: "Yeo Sang hasn't woken up yet, right? Hold on..." Hearing from the other members what had happened, and seeing Yeosang drowning in sorrow, he decided to use the same method that had worked for him. Like a doctor diagnosing and treating a sick patient, Jongho calmly played ATEEZ's music for Yeosang. For a moment, Yeosang held his head in pain, just like the other members had, before life returned to his eyes as he regained consciousness. Wooyoung pulled Yeosang in for a tight hug, sorry that he had misunderstood and resented him for so long. Though a bit awkward, but not unpleasant for him, Yeosang gently patted Wooyoung's back a few times, before quietly asking: Yeosang: "So what exactly is going on?" Haaah... Wooyoung let out a long sigh to which Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and San looked at him and quietly laughed. Wooyoung: "Just how many times am I going to have to atone for my mistakes today? Can we maybe find Mingi and Yunho first before I explain myself again?" Yeosang, who was staring at Wooyoung with a straight face, sighed and responded: Yeosang: "Jung Wooyoung, I knew this would happen. You touched Sopro, didn't you?" 'Damn you, Kang Yeosang....' Woo Young thought.

"Taking coffee orders. Anyone who doesn't respond in 5 minutes is getting an Iced Coffee." "lol!!! Song Mingi look behind you" "Met up with Yunho at the café. We'll head over together." Those were the last messages Yunho and Mingi left in their group chat. It was clear that the two were together and at a café somewhere nearby. Jongho copied ATEEZ's music onto his phone so that it would be ready to play to the crying members once they found them. But first, the group put their heads together and tried to sort out what they knew about Sopro.

After Wooyoung told the others he could primarily recall feeling relief once he voiced his wish to Sopro, he also lets them know he didn't even notice Sopro had entered his body back then.

To this, San explains he felt like Sopro had suppressed all emotions within him except for joy and, as soon as Sopro had left, he'd been able to tell he was being manipulated before, even though it had all felt natural while it had been happening.

Exchaning that information makes all of them realize something must have changed between when Sopro was using Wooyoung as a host versus when it was within San.

Yeosang: "So what Left Eye told us about Sopro was wrong?" Jongho: "Maybe it's not the emotions of the person using Sopro that are synchronized with others, but the emotions that Sopro chooses to feel instead." Seonghwa: "But that wasn't what Wooyoung experienced. When it was inside Wooyoung, we were sharing his feelings."

As they continued to ponder, Wooyoung decides to voice something he believes he might have noticed earlier:

Wooyoung: "When Sopro left San, it looked a little bigger. At least compared to when it left me." Wooyoung spoke with uncertainty, unsure and suggesting that he might have been mistaken. Meanwhile, Hongjoong, who had been leaning against the wall listening to the other members talk about their experiences, seemed to gain some certainty after hearing Wooyoung's words of observation. Hongjoong: "Could it be that Sopro is getting stronger? The only difference between Wooyoung and San's experience was the order – Wooyoung was first, and San was second." The other members looked at Hongjoong with expressions that clearly said they didn't understand what he meant. Hongjoong, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step closer to the members, continued: Hongjoong: "Try to remember what Left Eye said. According to the legends of World Z, Sopro is a magical spirit (靈) born out of the breath of Halazia. It's not a magic stone, battery, or anything like that. It's a spirit (靈). Do you understand what this means?" It's not an object, but a spirit. What does that even mean? The members pondered the meaning of Hongjoong's words. After a moment, they all answered in unison: "It has a will of its own?!" Yeosang: "It seems like the most plausible theory for now. If Sopro is a spirit with a will, then everything that happened makes sense." Wooyoung: "When the spirit first awoke, it was weak." San: "And by the time it moved to me, it was a little stronger." Jongho: "What about when it switched from joy to sadness?" Seonghwa: "Could it be learning different emotions?" The other members' eyes widened at Seonghwa's words. If, as Seonghwa said, Sopro is experiencing and learning emotions, that would explain their current situation. Hongjoong: "To sum everything up, Sopro is a spirit (靈) with will, and it needs a vessel to contain it, like a body. And each time it moves bodies, it gets stronger." Yeosang: "While doing so, it learns the main emotion each vessel is feeling in that moment. It can also force or impose any emotions it wants to feel onto its shell." Wooyoung: "In other words, Sopro is growing." At Wooyoung's words, everyone looked at each other with their mouths agape. In such a short period of time, it had already made its way through three bodies, and its power had grown to the point that it could force people around it to instantly synchronize with a particular emotion. Like Wooyoung said, Sopro was growing – and it was growing fast. Jongho: "Something's happening." They all turned their heads toward Jongho. Without any further explanation, he held out his phone. The screen was open to Jongho's social media feed, and they could see people's posts were disappearing in real time. Jongho looked up Mingi's account. It read "No Posts." Mingi, an influencer with over 10 million followers, now had an empty account. They kept refreshing the page in disbelief... then Mingi's account disappeared. San: "We need to find Mingi and Yunho!"

#ateez #ateez lore #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #golden hour part 3 #golden hour series

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