#I will drop a show if and when it becomes unrecognizable and stops to interest me so yeah

[screamsviakeyboard]

There's something weird about the DC movies. Specifically WW 1984 and The Flash. Both movies have pretty clear morals to their climaxes, and those morals are basically "don't hope too much or try to change things." Which are weird ones to have in anything, but especially mind boggling to have in superhero media.

Wonder Woman 1984

So, for those who don't know, WW1984's villain is a dude who fuses with a magical wishgranting rock, but, when you make a wish on the rock, you have to give up the thing you value most in exchange (the rock doesn't tell you this ahead of time). So the dude goes around granting wishes until he gets access to every screen on the planet and gets everyone to make a wish on him so he can take their most valued things. In order for Wonder Woman to beat him, she shows him that this is hurting his son (by destroying the world) and he convinces everyone to renounce their wishes. The day is saved, and WW can go try and move on from her dead boyfriend or whatever.

Now, the thing is, the guy who was granting the wishes wasn't actually doing anything. He was absorbing power from the people who were making wishes, but he wasn't using that for any purpose. What was destroying the world was the wishes themselves. Every single person who makes a wish on screen wishes for bad shit. Like there's a lady who wishes for someone to die and then the dude just drops dead. Shit's fucked up.

What this means is that the thing causing the danger isn't an evil villain; he's only creating the opportunity. What's to blame for the oncoming end of the world are the wishes of humanity. It is, in effect, bad to wish for things, not because you might get your shit sucked out by an evil rock, but because your wish might come true. It is only by not wishing for things that you can help Wonder Woman save the world.

The Flash (spoilers, if you care)

This one's about Flash trying to change the past. Time travel, woo. He goes back in time to save his mom from being murdered, and he actually succeeds, but he gets knocked out of the time travel and realizes that as a result of his actions all the super heroes are MIA and Zod (evil general superman) is about to invade.

Flash meets up with himself from this time and gets the band back together, with Batman and Supergirl because Superman didn't arrive in this timeline. Then they go to fight Zod. Montage, music plays, big battle scene, until, they lose. Supergirl and Batman die, so the Flashes need to go back to the past to try and save the day.

Then they fail. And it's kind of interesting, I guess, because we're trained to expect the heroes to succeed at this sort of thing. Then they go back in time again to try and save the day, only to fail again, and again, and again.

Our flash explains to the new flash that this is because this is fated to happen. Zod wins and the planet is destroyed, there's nothing they can do about it. The other flash refuses to listen and keeps trying to save the day until he threatens the fabric of time and space and an evil monster appears.

The twist is that the monster is the other flash, after countless attempts to change the outcome, he's become unrecognizable and now he's here to stop our Flash from stopping him from saving the day. He tries to kill our Flash, but the other Flash takes the hit, dying in the process and erasing his future self from existence.

Our Flash realizes what he has to do, he goes to unchange the past, and then he returns to the present, where his mom's still dead, but at least his dad isn't in prison anymore.

Once again, the Big Problem, isn't the villain. Zod's an obstacle, sure, but the thing threatening to destroy all of existence isn't him, it's the fact that Other Flash wants to save the day. If he just gave up, then all solvable problems would be solved. And it's by giving up on, uh, having a living mother, that our Flash does save the day in the end.

So you can see my problem with this

The moral of the story is that some things can't be changed, and if you try to fix them, you'll only hurt yourself and others. The moral of the story is that if you wish for things, you'll wish for something wrong and selfish, so you need to not wish. These are morals, kinda, if you squint at them, but they suck. They're depressing and hopeless.

And they're especially bad in a Superhero Movie.

The whole point is to reach for what's impossible. We're here to watch larger than life figures prevail against impossible odds and save the world. We're here to change the things that can't be changed, and to wish for a brighter world. These morals are practically antithetical to the genre they're presented in. And if you're, like, writing fucking Watchmen, then sure, that's fine, but when you're writing blockbuster bright and colorful superhero movies—when Watchmen's already come out, when we've got more evil supermen than we have fingers and one of them's already appeared in your own universe—what're you even doing?

These are for kids, man. And the kids in us if we're lucky. Let 'em hope.

[isabeljkim]

LN: Homecoming is Just Another Word for the Sublimation Of The Self

DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU HAVE READ THE STORY HERE.

People assume that Homecoming is autobiographical or reflects my emotions in that the main character’s perspective is my own. I think this happens a lot when someone writes Immigrant Narratives, and I have a hard time saying “hey people shouldn’t do that” because I also think that a lot of time the application of the self into the story is true. But when people have talked to me about Homecoming, they’ve assumed a specific background/state of mind for me which isn’t necessarily accurate. 

It’s a pretty personal story for me in that I dropped a lot of cosmetic details about my history into the story, but not a personal story for me in that I don’t think it reflects any sort of immigrant angst that I feel, only sort of a clean desire to explain to those who have non-diaspora lives that diaspora is complicated and people don’t always feel the way you think they should feel about it. My goal with the story was to really just drive home the thesis that diaspora is messy, you don’t get to choose who you become, the line between foreigner and homeland is thin, America is like a worm that gets into your brain, please experience being uncomfortable for 6000 words, I am not here to play.

I feel a weird need to disclose that I’m not technically an immigrant. Everyone who reads this assumes I am, but I was born in NJ, and my parents lived in the states for 20 years before they had me…but I spent a lot of my childhood in Korea because my dad got a job in Korea right before I was born. I spent the first ten years of my life shuttling between California and Korea because he was a professor at universities in both countries, though I went to school in Korea. I call myself 1.5 gen, haha. I’m an edge case. 

This story was one of those cases where I wrote something kind of sad and I thought “this isn’t that sad” and everyone I showed it to was like “dude this is sad as shit” and I was like “oh is it sad?” because I considered the story more about the tension between the decisions about your life that you get to choose, versus the ones that are chosen for you, and I didn’t feel that was particularly sad as much as it is one of the clean realities of life: a lot of the choices that create who you are get made for you. 

I wrote this story because I felt that I hadn’t read any immigrant/second generation narratives that talked about the tension between the fact that we live in a global world and it’s not hard anymore to return places, held against the fact that you can never actually return to somewhere you last left, and the compounding fact the person you are has changed in the intervening time so that they would be unrecognizable to the self you left behind. 

I felt that there wasn’t a story for Guys Like Me, who went to Korea most summers after moving to the states until they stopped and then eventually realized that they had turned into someone who can confidently say “I’m from New Jersey” rather than tentatively say “I’m from New Jersey?” and what that means about loss and change. 

I also wrote this story because I thought “haha wouldn’t it be fucked up if immigration worked like github instancing?”

I don’t know if I’m going to write more things about Korea Stuff. This is my first bigboy publication (but check out my game at Sub-Q!! It’s good!!) and I don’t want to get pigeonholed as a diaspora writer/asian things specifically by the market. I am just some guy who likes wizards and lasers. I am kind of an ambivalent asian. i just go here. You just think I go here because I’ve got the eyes and hair and skin tone. 

The folktale about the knife, fisherman, is a bastardized version of a folktale I heard in elementary school, which I couldn’t find online even though I searched for it quite a bit. There’s a lot of stories about “guy goes to the fae court under the sea, comes back, oh shit, time has passed,” but I made up all the stuff about the knife, the killing of the self, etc. Based on a real story though! That’s real! 

I named Soyoung after my childhood best friend, who I’ve lost touch with for the last decade on account of her living in Korea and me moving permanently to the states. Don’t read too much into that. Claire Soyoung Ko if you’re out there…..

I accidentally named Jungwon after one of my cousins because I forgot it was his name because I always call him by his American name and now I can’t show him the story because it has his name in it. I swear this wasn’t on purpose.

In the first draft, Soyoung was bisexual, but I couldn’t fit that fact in the final draft. Know in your heart that this is true and canon, though.

The grandfather’s apartment, the Shinsegae department store basement, and the grandfather’s gravesite are all based on my actual human grandpa’s apartment/grave/places near it, and it was really just an exercise in nostalgic laziness that I described places I was pretty intimately familiar with. (If you want to know something meta that’s a little sad and strange related to the story: my family is talking about what to do with my grandfather’s grave now, because it’s too far from most of the family for them to visit. We’re trying to figure out where to take my grandparent’s ashes. I learned about this a month after my story was published and felt some kind of way).

Homecoming really is the best example I’ve written of how a story is sad or happy depending on where you end it. I ended it at the saddest moment. Soyoung��s life ends up pretty good! Soyoung ends up happy mostly, in the way that happiness is a mutable state for most people.

I cannot stress enough that Dr. Crouton, best cat, does get sent for and Soyoung DOES get her cat back. This is fucking crucial.

I always think about doing more with this story, because I think it’s an interesting concept that says a lot about migration/diaspora/immigration stuff, but I hesitate because I don’t know if I’m the best writer to write a story about this. 

[mage-ellie]

Going Back

Another Goro akechi x reader oneshot. I love writing fluff hkafjdshkfdh

Link to original post: Click me!

Warnings: Spoilers, fluff, angst, mentions of blood and wounds, kissing, cuddling

Word count: 6,409

Summary: Akechi's sacrifice left a bitter taste in your mouth that even Akira's amazing coffee couldn't fix. So you did the only thing you could think of doing that would help you feel better. You went back for him. You'd get him out of that criminals palace, whether he was dead or alive. He at least deserved that much, right?

You felt sick.

Goro Akechi, the 'traitor', just gave his life to save you all while in Shido's palace. He had spilled his horrific past to you all moments before his sacrifice. Shido's puppet version of Akechi said that all Akechi wanted was to be loved. To be wanted by someone. That broke your heart.

No matter how he had acted in the past, he was still a victim. A victim you couldn't save.

You couldn't deny the blossoming feelings you had for the conniving detective. Twice a week for the past 4 months, you had met up with Akechi at Jazz Jin in Kichijoji to just relax in each others presence. Most of the time, you wouldn't talk. You'd just enjoy the music and the taste of the fruity virgin cocktails that he would recommend. When you did talk, you explored all kinds of topics with him. You two would talk about your dreams, current events, work, and sometimes even the Phantom Thieves.

Akira introduced you two back in August when Akechi had stopped by Leblanc for some coffee. While you didn't immediately get along with him, he was still fun to converse with. During one of your nightly outings, you had ran into the detective at the station. He had asked if you would be interested in joining him for a drink and you had accepted. Even though he just wanted to grill you about the Phantom Thieves, you found yourself enjoying the mindless banter and before you knew it, meeting up with him at the Jazz Club had become a regular thing.

Currently, you were sitting at the bar in Leblanc with your head in your hands. Akira was behind the bar, mindlessly making coffee in an attempt to distract himself from what had just happened. Morgana was curled up on your lap, trying to comfort you.

The sound of a cup shakily being set onto the counter prompted you to lift your head. Akira's normally clean and neat coffee cream art was messy and almost unrecognizable. It was hard for him to make the cream look nice when his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

"Are you thinking about him?" Akira asked, his voice was deep and quiet.

You swallowed as you slid your fingers around the warm mug. "I can still hear the gun shots." You whispered. The ringing in your ears still hasn't stopped, despite it having been over an hour since the whole event happened.

Akira nodded as he made himself a cup of coffee. "Me too."

As you sipped your coffee, Akira rounded the bar to join you. Having him around was comforting, but you couldn't stay here all night, even though you wanted too.

Once you and your leader had finished the coffee's he had made, you decided to take your leave.

"It's getting late. I don't want to miss the last train." You said as you lifted the soft black and white kitty from your lap and set him on the counter.

"Goodnight Y/N. Be careful getting home." Morgana said softly, his big blue eyes filled with pity.

Akira stood from his seat and walked you to the door. Before he could open the door, you wrapped your arms around him and pressed your face into his chest. Akira has always been like a brother to you. You considered all of the Phantom Thieves to be family.

He immediately returned the hug, squeezing you tightly as you did your best to not break down sobbing. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?" He asked, gently stroking your hair.

"As much as I'd like to, I can't. I left all of my homework and school stuff at my apartment." You mumbled, mentally scolding yourself for leaving your stuff behind.

You and Akira pulled away from each other after a moment of silently reveling in each others warmth. He opened the door for you and said a quiet, "Goodnight," as you walked out.

On your short trek to the station, a thought popped into your mind. It definitely wasn't your greatest idea. You could go back for Akechi. Akira had kept you in the backlines when Akechi had challenged the Thieves because he knew of your feelings for the detective, meaning that you still had most of your strength. If anything, you could at least bring his body back to the real world. He deserved a proper funeral.

Before doubt or hesitation could sink into your caffeinated mind, you hopped onto the train that went to the Judicial district of Tokyo. Determination filled your veins as the train came to a stop at your destination. Or maybe it was adrenaline. Either would work. You just wished that you had prepared more. You didn't have any healing items, so you'd be relying on your Persona, as well as your sneaking skills.

The moment you entered Shido's palace, you sprinted towards the entrance. Your feet silently hit the ground, the speed of your sprint made your hair flow behind you. You could do this. You wanted to prove to Akechi that he was special, that he was wanted, even if he wasn't here to see it.

Shido's palace was filled to the brim with shadows who were all on high alert. The only way to traverse through his palace even somewhat safely would have to be through the vents. While you would be able to handle a few of the shadows on your own, you could easily get overwhelmed with the amount of them roaming the palace.

You weren't sure how long you had been crawling through the dusty and cramped vents, but you finally managed to find a way into the boiler room.

Silently dropping into the room from a high up vent on the far left side of the room, you crept towards the place where the detective would be. Despite the amount of shadows that had been in the room when Akechi had trapped himself in it, there were none to be seen. Thank God. Your aching muscles wouldn't be able to handle all of them.

There he was, slumped against the wall that kept the Thieves from helping him. He was sitting in a small pool of his own blood, a few bullet holes riddled his body. His head was hanging down, his body limp. He looked so small, so sad.

The sight of him made you want to scream. You were frozen in place, unable to move because of the flood of emotions that washed over your body. Regret pricked at your bones. You wished you had tried harder to show him your love. You wished you had confessed your feelings to him. You wished you had been there for him like he needed you to be.

Taking a shaky and deep breath, you willed your legs to move. Standing around in this area was dangerous and would accomplish nothing. You came here to get him out, so that's what you were going to do.

Finally, your legs moved you towards the detectives body. It took all of your strength to not start crying. You could mourn his death when you got him out, when you were safe.

You were now standing close enough to him to see the skin of his face. He looked so pale, faint tear stains were the only thing coloring his face. Gently, you crouched down beside him and gazed at his form.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lifted your hands. Your left hand removed his shattered mask and your right hand tenderly stroked the soft skin of his cheek. His skin was cold, but it wasn't freezing like you had expected it to be.

A slight movement on his face caught your attention. His piercing maroon eyes had opened ever so slightly and were trained on you.

Your heart stopped, hands froze, mind going completely blank as you stared back at the man you had thought to be dead. Goro Akechi was still alive. Was his will to survive this strong?

Carefully, you removed his helmet, his slightly damp chestnut hair fell around his face. Even like this, he looked so handsome. You lifted one of your legs and put it on the other side of him so that you were straddling his lap.

You lifted his head as softly as you could and pulled his body into yours. His head rested against your shoulder and his chest pressed into yours. You combed your fingers through his soft locks and rubbed his back as you called your persona.

"Orpheus." Your voice was barely a whisper. The stringed man appeared beside you as you gathered your strength to cast the skill Cadenza. It wouldn't heal Akechi all of the way, but it was the only healing skill your persona knew.

A warm, healing light wrapped itself around you and Akechi. The ache in your muscles lessened as Orpheus did his best to heal you both. The warmth in Akechi's skin was returning, his breaths were becoming deeper as his body took in more oxygen. His strength was returning. Slowly, Akechi wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

As the green light faded, Akechi pushed you backwards, forcing you to lay on the ground with him on top of you. His legs were in between yours and he was squeezing you as tightly as he could. His face was pressing into your neck as his body began to shake.

"It's okay. I'm here now." You whispered as you held him back with just as much force. A choked sob ripped from his throat as he began crying into your shoulder.

"I've got you. You're okay." You continuously murmured words of comfort as he broke down on top of you. You shifted slightly underneath him so that you could wrap your legs around his hips in order to hold more of him. Your mind was a jumbled mess, thinking of ways to get him out of here and what you wanted to say to him. A part of you wanted to yell at him for what he did, a larger part of you just wanted to cry and hold him forever. You wondered if he could feel how fast and hard your heart was beating.

Your mind was struggling to comprehend that he was still alive.

"I'm sorry I took so long." You croaked, raising a hand to brush his hair out of his face. Hot tears started trickling down your cheeks as your mind came to terms with the fact that Akechi was still here. Your words only made him cry harder.

His tears were soaking into your metaverse outfit, though you didn't mind. You'd let him cry like this for as long as he needed to.

Slowly, his sobs became soft whines and his shaking body calmed down. Turning your head, you gently pressed your lips to the top of his head as you continued to stroke his hair. Akechi softly sighed into your neck and he nuzzled his face into your shoulder once more.

Finally, he lifted himself up to look at you. His eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks were tinted pink.

You reached up and cradled his cheeks in your hands. "Let's get out of here together." He closed his eyes and leaned his face into your touch, nodding in response to your words.

Akechi pulled away from you and stood, offering you a hand to help you up. You accepted his offer and he pulled you to your feet.

"Come on. I came here through a vent at the end of the room." You pointed to the open vent and began walking towards it with the 'Princely' detective in tow. You couldn't help but wonder why he had been so quiet.

You looked up at him and scanned his face. He looked so tired. "Are you alright?" The soft tone of your voice was filled with worry. His jaw visibly clenched for a moment before he started speaking.

"This just doesn't feel real is all." He had a far away look in his eyes, like he wasn't actually looking at you, but looking through you.

You couldn't stop the dry chuckle that left your lips. You reached for his right hand with your left, entwining your fingers with his and squeezing his hand tightly. "You can say that again." Akechi gripped your hand back.

Your trek to get out of the palace with Akechi was slow and clumsy. While you had healed him for the most part, your persona couldn't give him back the blood he had lost, so he couldn't move for too long without needing to take a break. He didn't comment on his constant need to slow down, but you could tell he was annoyed. The light coming back to his eyes was making his maroon eyes glow crimson.

Currently, you were sitting in a small closet with him while he rested. His fingers were still wrapped around yours. You gently leaned your head against his shoulder and stroked his arm with your free hand in an attempt to comfort him.

"Why?" His voice was so small. You knew what he was asking. He wanted to know why you came back for him. His hand began to shake as he awaited your answer. It took you a moment to put the words together. Your nerves started to take a hold of you as you contemplated telling him your feelings for him. You should do it now, just in case this really wasn't real.

"I love you Goro." You could feel his body tense as you whispered your response. "I couldn't just leave you here alone. You deserved better than to just rot in a palace where you'd never be seen again. I wanted to give you a proper burial. You deserved that much at least." Your voice was tight. It was a struggle to force the words out as you confessed your feelings for him and how you had thought he was dead.

Goro's breathing had become shaky again as he processed your words. You didn't stop rubbing his arm or holding his hand as you let your words sink in. Even if he didn't feel the same, at least he'd know that someone out there did love him and want him around.

"I'm glad you're okay." You finished and closed your eyes as you leaned into him more, reveling in his warmth. He didn't say anything in response, but he did lean his head against yours and squeezed your hand tighter, rubbing circles gently into the back of your hand with his thumb.

You both sat in silence as he slowly took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. This was probably the first time in a long time that someone has told him that they love him like this.

"Let's keep moving." He whispered as he pulled away from you and stood. His hand was still locked around yours though, so he pulled you up with him. You collided with his chest and he pulled his hand away from yours as he wrapped his arms around you for only a moment, giving you time to hug him back before he pulled away and opened the door.

As you exited, he slid his hand back into yours. The rest of your journey through the palace with Goro went by a lot faster. It took you a while to find a saferoom where you could exit, but once you did, relief flooded your system. Even Goro visibly relaxed once you had entered the room.

Pulling out your phone, you transported the two of you to the entrance of Shido's palace.

Silently, you pulled Goro towards a busy road and hailed a taxi. He didn't question you when you pulled him into the taxi with you or when you gave the driver your address. He didn't make any comments when you led him by the hand to your empty apartment. You silently thanked your mother for being away. She was currently overseas for some business convention and wouldn't be back for another week or so.

You gave him a little tour of your home and proceeded to give him a clean shirt and a pair of pants that he could wear to bed.

Finally, you turned towards him and spoke. "I know it's late, but you should eat and drink something before you go to bed. Do you have any requests?"

Goro pondered your question for a moment. "Just something light." Was all he said before he locked himself in your bathroom to shower.

Since you didn't have much energy and you conveniently had some leftover rice from yesterday, you cut up some carrots, green onions and fried some bacon, mixing it all together to make a basic meal of fried rice. After adding a pinch of a few different spices, you had your light dinner complete.

You set up two spots at your kitchen table with a bowl of rice and a cup of water, just in time because Goro walked out of the bathroom after you set the cups down.

You watched as Goro took a deep breath and eyed the food on the table. "Should I have made more?" You asked, observing the way he looked like he wanted to devour your serving too.

"Perhaps." He mumbled, still staring at the food from the hallway. You brought a hand up to your chin for a moment to think.

"Why don't you go figure out how to work the laundry machine, and I'll add eggs to the menu? How to you like your eggs cooked and how many would you like?" You spoke as you turned your back to him and walked towards the fridge.

"Two please, and surprise me." When you turned back around to look at him, he was gone. Since he didn't have a preference, you decided to make them sunny side up. By the time you had plated the eggs, he was sitting at his spot at the table, patiently waiting for you.

Goro said a soft, "Thank you," as you set his plate of eggs by his rice. All you did was smile at him in response before beginning to eat.

It didn't take the two of you long before you both finished eating. He oh-so-generously offered to do the dishes for you while you took a shower, which you gratefully accepted. You were exhausted and just wanted to sleep.

Once you finished and walked out of the bathroom, you noticed Goro had made himself comfortable on your couch.

"I hope you don't mind, but I stole a blanket from your room." He didn't look at you as he said that, he was just staring at the TV.

"Are you not going to sleep in my bed with me?" Your question caused him to snap his head to the side to look at you. A look of uncertainty crossed his eyes.

"Only a few hours ago I had tried to kill you and all of your friends." His voice was sharp, harsh, but you could tell that it wasn't directed at you.

"Only a few hours ago you sacrificed yourself to protect me and all of my friends. I didn't crawl through dozens of vents to find you to just let you sleep on my couch." You retorted. Your heart tightened at the memory of what he did.

"You thought I was dead." He responded, his voice not as abrasive as before.

"I had planned on giving you a proper burial, a whole funeral. Thankfully, I don't have to do that, so the least I can do is give you a proper bed to sleep in tonight. Come on." You didn't leave any room for arguing as you turned and headed to your room.

You could hear the TV turn off and the sound of footsteps sounded softly through the hall as Goro made his way to your room. You turned off your lights, leaving only the lamp by your bed on.

He stood at the entrance of your room, looking unsure as you slid into bed. When you made eye contact with him, you opened your arms and opened and closed your hands, signifying that you wanted him to come to you.

He just stared at you, unmoving.

"Goro." You said softly, hoping that he would join you.

In the dim, warm light, you noticed him swallow, his adams apple bobbed as he did so. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he eyed you from where he stood. Slowly, he began walking towards you, the uncertainty in his eyes was blinding. You were beginning to worry that you were making him uncomfortable.

For a moment, he just stood beside you, looking down at you. Your arms were still open to him, inviting him to you.

Finally, he crawled on top of you and laid down like he had done back in Shido's palace. He hooked his arms around the arch of your back and pressed his face into the left side of your neck. His breathing immediately became shaky as he made contact with you.

You reached over and turned off your lamp, letting the darkness consume your room, before you slid your fingers through his hair and rubbed his back. His grip around you tightened as he held back his tears.

"It's okay. You're safe now." You whispered into his hair as you continued to soothe him. He finally let go and cried into your shoulder. His body was wracked with sobs and hiccups. His shoulders shook and his arms were trembling.

You gently hooked your legs around his as you kissed him repeatedly on the top of his head. His left hand slid up your back so that it was resting in between your shoulder blades in an attempt to hold more of you.

You weren't sure how long you've both been laying like this, but you definitely knew that neither of you were going to go to school in the morning. After all that's happened, you deserved a break, plus you were worried that Goro might have a breakdown if you left him for too long. His mind must be a mess after causing himself to have a psychotic breakdown.

Eventually, his sobs quieted, but he was still shaking. You wondered if he's ever been held like this. That thought made your heart ache.

"Did you mean it?" His voice was hoarse and deep.

You reached over and pushed the hair out of his face. "Did I mean what?" You asked softly, still combing your fingers through his hair.

"Did you mean it when you said you loved me?" His shaking got worse after he clarified.

You exhaled slowly as you held him tighter against you. "Of course I meant it. I love you so much, Goro Akechi." The beating of your heart increased as you confessed once again. Goro could definitely feel your heartbeat this time.

Goro pulled his arms out from under you and propped himself up onto his forearms, so that he was hovering above you. You could feel his breath fan across your lips from how close he was.

"Say it again." His lips brushed against yours as he whispered that, causing a shiver to go down your spine.

You could barely make out his russet eyes in the darkness of your room, only being lit by the light of the moon. Tenderly, you reached up and cradled his face like you had done back in Shido's palace.

"I love you Goro." You gently pulled his face down to yours. He didn't try to stop you as you did.

Goro's lips pressed against yours in a soft, unmoving kiss. You both held this position for who knows how long.  

You relaxed out of the kiss, pulling your lips away from his, only to have him quickly close the distance and kiss you again. Your lips began melding with Goro's in a slow and steady rhythm, gently sucking on each others lips, savoring this moment.

His lips were soft and warm and he tasted so sweet. You didn't want this moment with him to end. He must've thought the same thing because he slid his arms under your upper back and rested his body against yours, keeping you from pulling too far away from him.

After a few minutes of your heart warming make out session, he pulled away, his nose was brushing against yours as he hovered above you once again. You opened your eyes to look at him. The darkness of your room kept you from seeing most of his face.

He removed one of his arms from underneath you and brought it up to hold your right hand, which was still holding his face. Goro leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to yours as he gently stroked the back of your hand.

You sighed softly as you rubbed your fingers over his cheeks.

"I..." He began. If your heart wasn't beating fast before, it definitely was now. It took him several moments before he was able to finish his thought. "I love you too." His voice was deep and velvety, firm. Goro meant it.

You couldn't stop the smile that spread across your cheeks. You squeezed his face between your hands and rubbed your nose against his as you softly chanted, "I love you," over and over. He responded with a chuckle and did the same thing, only to say, "This is grossly cheesy," and pull away from you to lay on the other side of your bed.

Though, he wouldn't let you sleep too far from him because he grabbed your arms and pulled you onto his chest.

"You love it." You quipped, nuzzling your head into his warm chest as he hooked his arms around your waist once again. Your consciousness immediately began drifting into sleep as you got comfortable on the detective.

"I suppose I do." His voice sounded so far away in your sleep hazed mind, but you still heard it. You also felt the chaste kiss he gave you on the top of your head before you passed out from exhaustion.

-----------

Despite his exhaustion, Goro couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. He still couldn't believe that this was real. He was afraid that when he did fall asleep, he'd wake up alone in that boiler room, dying from blood loss.

How could he believe that this was real? You had come back for him, not only that, but you loved him back and were currently passed out on his chest. The sight of you softly breathing beside him pulled at his heartstrings.

If this truly was real, he wouldn't take it for granted. Goro couldn't help but feel like he didn't deserve this, but he wouldn't break your heart like he did back in Shido's palace. Not again. He clearly remembered the look on your face when he confronted you all in the boiler room. He remembered the tone of your voice as you cried out for him when he had trapped himself with Shido's cognitive version of himself and the shadows.

You sounded so broken, so angry. Even when he had caused himself to have a psychotic breakdown and tried to kill you all, he couldn't stop the weird feeling he got whenever he looked at you as you broke down in Futaba's arms. He felt so gross, disgusting, for doing what he was doing. He never wanted to feel that again.

He wanted to feel that warm and tingly feeling he got when he opened his eyes and saw you, kneeling beside him. The look of pain and concern written across your face, only to dissolve into shock and what he could only describe as a mix of relief and terror when you made eye contact with him.

He had held on for as long as he could, hoping, praying that someone, anyone would come back for him, and you did. He wasn't sure if you were the person he expected the least, or the most. Besides Akira, you were the closest one to him, but since he did what he did, he didn't expect you to be the one to come back for him.

Goro held you just a bit tighter as his mind went over the feelings and memories he had. He melted when you gently rubbed circles over his rapidly beating heart, silently comforting him.

You were so kind, and warm, and loving. He wasn't sure what he did to deserve someone like you.

And before he knew it, he was drifting off to sleep as well.

-----------

You had made sure to turn off your alarm before you went to sleep so you could sleep in, so the sound of something beeping made you groan. Rolling over, you squinted up at Goro who was sitting on the edge of your bed, turning off his alarm.

"What are you doing?" You mumbled, almost falling back asleep immediately. Your eyes hurt from how tired you felt.

"We have school today you know." He smiled down at you, dark circles surrounded his eyes. You couldn't believe what he was saying. He nearly died last night and he's talking about going to school today. If you had the strength, you would've laughed.

Slowly, you sat up and crawled over to him, only to wrap your arms and legs around him and pull him back onto your bed. "No." Was all you said as you pulled your blankets back over the two of you. He seemed to accept his fate of ditching school with you because he rolled over and pulled you into him. Goro brought one of his hands to rest on the back of your head and the other held you by your hips.

It didn't take you long before you slipped back into dreamland.

-

This time when you woke up, you were alone. Panic and dread immediately sunk into your soul as you reached for your phone. It was currently noon and there were over a dozen text messages from the other Thieves, asking where you were and if you were okay.

You quickly slid out of bed as questions slammed themselves into your mind. Had that all been a dream? Was Goro actually dead?

But before you could come up with any more devastating questions, the door to your bedroom opened and you launched yourself at the detective who was entering. You stood on the tips of your toes and locked your arms around his neck. Goro immediately grabbed onto you and held you back with an iron grip.

"Sorry. Did I scare you?" His tone was light and airy, full of warmth. All you did was nod in response as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, clinging to him with all of your might.

It was Goro's turn to stroke your hair and rub your back to comfort you. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you slowly calmed down. Taking deep breaths, you let go of his shirt and played with the ends of his hair as you took in his scent. It wasn't just a dream.

"I made breakfast." He mumbled into your hair as he slowly began to rock side to side, swaying to the beat of a song you couldn't hear.

You relaxed your tensed muscles and leaned into him, enjoying the sweet moment you were sharing with him for a bit before you let go.

Goro took your hand and led you to your kitchen and sat you down. He served you a plate of eggs, bacon and rice. "No pancakes?" You joked, smirking up at him.

He immediately frowned and sighed. "I never want to hear that word again." His response made you laugh. A small smile twitched at the ends of his lips as you giggled.

You both ate in a peaceful silence before your phone buzzed, receiving a flood of messages from your worried friends. "We're going to tell them that you're alive, right?" You asked, looking away from your phone, eyes locking with his.

His eyes darted away from your gaze. "If you want." It's clear he didn't want to talk about this, but the other Thieves deserved to know.

"Obviously I want to. The others were upset by your sacrificed too, you know." Your voice was soft, but he still wouldn't look at you. "Akira wants to send the calling card ASAP, so we'll be meeting at Leblanc once everyone gets out of school. We can tell them then." Goro only sighed. You wanted to give him a bit of time to prepare.

In the mean time, you responded to your friends texts, saying you were okay and you just needed to take a mental health day because of what had happen. They all understood why. It's not like you kept your feelings for Goro a secret from them.

-

As 4:30 P.M. rolled around, you and Goro finally got dressed. You had spent the day cuddling with him on your couch, watching movies together.

Once you were ready to go, you paused and looked up at him. "Are you ready?" You asked, concern filling your voice as you scanned his face.

"As ready as I'll ever be." He responded. His face remained stoic as he spoke, but you could see the turmoil swimming in his eyes. "Are you ready for the stern lecture you're going to receive from Makoto for going back into Shido's palace alone?" He smirked at you this time, probably enjoying the terror that crossed your face.

"Yup." You squeaked, causing him to laugh. He clearly didn't believe you at all.

Goro gently grabbed your hand as you both made your way out of your apartment and to the subway station.

Upon arriving at Leblanc, you noticed that you were the last ones to arrive. Goro's hand was shaking ever so slightly as he gazed at the door. You looked up at him, prompting him to turn his gaze down towards you. You gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand. He released a shaky breath and smiled back down at you.

He walked in first, opening the door for you like the gentleman he was. The sound of the bell above the door ringing signaled to the others that you had arrived. They all lifted their heads and directed their attention towards you.

You watched as their faces paled and shock took over. Their eyes widened and their mouths dropped open.

For a long moment, no one said or did anything other than stare. That was until Akira stood from his seat at the bar and walked up to Goro. Akira didn't hesitate to pull Goro into a hug. You backed away from the boys as the others came out of their shock.

"Y/N. What the fuck did you do?" Ryuji said, not looking away from Goro.

"Witchcraft." You joked, not taking your eyes off of Goro as he slowly returned Akira's hug. A smile pulled at your cheeks as you watched him relax slightly into Akira, his only other friend. He clearly wasn't going to show any more affection than that.

Haru was the next to stand and make her way to the boys. She came up beside them and hugged them both.

Goro visibly tensed as Haru hugged him.

Before you knew it, everyone was hugging Goro. The sight made your heart sing. He still had a lot to make up for, but for now, the Thieves put that aside to show him just how happy they were that he was alive.

"Alright. That's enough." Goro spoke up, pulling away from Akira and wiggling himself out of the group.

"Aww you loved it." You teased as you looked at him. All he did was scoff and roll his eyes.

"Now." Makoto spoke, suddenly standing right in front of you. Your body immediately tensed and you instinctively took a step back. "You went back for him? Alone?" Her tone was harsh, she was definitely angry with you.

"Yes ma'am." You squeaked as you shrunk under her intense gaze.

"Lighten up Mako-chan. If N/N-chan hadn't done that, Akechi wouldn't be here with us now. Besides, she seems to have made it out just fine." Haru spoke up in your defense. You couldn't thank Haru enough because her reasoning caused Makoto to relax a bit.

"I suppose you're right, but don't do anything like that again, understood?" You nodded vigorously in response. She seemed satisfied with your answer because she turned away from you and made her way back to her seat.

For a moment, you locked eyes with Goro, who was smirking at you from his seat at the bar. You gave him a half-hearted glare in response.

Goro spread his legs a bit and gestured for you to come over and stand in front of him while you all spoke about the calling card. You sighed softly and walked over to him. He slipped his arms around your waist once you got to him.

Ann stared at you for a moment as the detective shamelessly clung to you. "So like, are you both..." She trailed off towards the end of her sentence, not sure if she should finish it or not.

A blush quickly spread over your cheeks as everyone turned and looked at you both again. You tilted your head back slightly and looked at Goro, who was looking expectantly at you, waiting for your answer. You could only assume that Ann was asking if you were dating.

Looking away from him and not meeting the eyes of the others, you said, "Yes," in a soft voice. A few of them cheered and others groaned as they all took out their wallets. Apparently, they had placed bets on whether you two would get together.

Goro's grip on you tightened as you pinched the bridge of your nose due to the fact that the Thieves were now arguing over who got how much money.

"I love you Y/N." He whispered into your ear, gently nuzzling his nose into your hair. His voice warmed your heart.

Turning your head to face him, you whispered, "I love you too Goro." A smile breaking out onto your face.

Thankfully, the Thieves didn't seem to notice your little moment with him.

[arysthaeniru]

aAAA the joy of seeing an update on your current favorite fanfic is just aAAA

I always felt that kiwami 1s Nishiki was just a bit too,, I dont know how to describe it; but essentially he just felt off, granted yakuza 1 is a product of its time and therefore the plot is a bit dated and whack as all hell

The way you write Nishiki just feels so much better and realistic; in the original he just seems so uncaring towards Kiryu? which just feels kinda OOC? You'd think he still cares about Kiryu despite it all, especially when you take Yakuza 0 into consideration; and i feel like you portray Nishiki much more accurately

I never thought much about Yumi, because honestly, in the original she was kinda just, there? You actually made her a very interesting person! like I'm actually invested in her in your story! (side note you ever think about her clone who got tortued and died? yeah who WAS that???? thats never brought up is it??)

Theres so much more to talk about but in short; This is the best fix it/rewrite of a game plot I have read to date and it brings me joy in my current stressful school life. and no I will not stop praising it or the author, because this work has made me very happy. ;)

I just have a gift for picking favorites that end up dying,,aand another favorite of mine is Mine

imo theres a lack of soft, reassuring Minedai, i just feel like he'd need a reminder that people love him as a person and not just for the money he can provide, even if its obvious

I'd love to see how you'd write them, but I understand if theres more interesting/appealing drabble requests!

- Carp

CARP, thank you for this <3 this is so sweet!!!!! I’m so happy you enjoy my Nishiki! I had fun playing with what Yakuza 0/the Kiwami additions gave us about Nishiki’s personality and outlook on the world, and trying to reconcile that with the plot that Yakuza 1 initially had. Ultimately, I fell on the side that you did: even if Nishiki’s ambition took him down a monstrous path, I don’t think he’s the sort of person who neglects to pay back his debts. And he’s aware of the huge debt he owes Kiryu. Not to mention, their bonds of trust and love vanishing completely because of jealousy felt unreal to me. Their relationship becoming twisted or strange? Yes, but vanishing entirely felt unsatsifying to me. 

And Yumi!! I had so much fun excavating her character from the clues we get of her in canon. I worry sometimes, that she’s unrecognizable, because you know, I’ve given her a college education, and a whole bunch of interests beyond hostessing alone, but people seem to like it and like her, which is great!! I hate fridging women characters, so keeping her and Reina alive was important to me, hahaha. (RE: fake!Mizuki, there’s this substory in Kiwami that actually addresses who she was, BUT IT’S EVEN MORE HORRIFYING. So that’s why Yumi in my fic is the one captured and tortured by Nishiki’s men, because the thought of this poor innocent woman getting dragged into the mess was just untenable to me.)  

Anyway, thank you for your support and kind words, and I hope you’ll continue to read and that my fic can continue to relieve stress. I--tried to write this about Mine, but Daigo kind of stole the spotlight a little??? I hope you still like it--if not, I will try a ficlet from Mine’s perspective too. I enjoy minedai a lot, but I haven’t had room to think out their dynamic yet, so this took me a while. 

Daigo’s no stranger to being desired. He’s attractive, he knows this—his mother’s beauty lives in his veins, and he’s always had the money to look after himself. Fancy soaps to wash his face, the invisible retainers to keep his teeth straight, fancy suits and skin-tight shirts to show off his frame. For all that Kiryu insists his charisma is something that comes from the soul, Daigo knows it wouldn’t be able to draw the sort of attention he does without being attractive.

Which is to say that Daigo’s not especially thrown off by the intensity of Mine’s gaze. It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. The thing that surprises him is how much he relishes in being seen by Mine.

Maybe it’s because Mine’s an island in a stormy sea, one of the only yakuza his age who’s sensible and level-headed enough to make it big. Maybe it’s because Mine’s gaze is always so reserved, polite, never overly lusty or overstaying its welcome, and Daigo has so rarely been desired so quietly. Or maybe it’s because Majima and Kashiwagi so clearly disapprove of him—Daigo’s always been something of a rebel, and he hasn’t shaken that off, even now he’s in his thirties and is the arbiter of rules for the Tojo Clan.

Daigo can’t quite put a pin on why he’s so comfortable with Mine’s yearning looks, but he’s never been one to hold back when he wants to indulge in something good. Not exactly a hedonist, not by yakuza standards, but Daigo has never kept himself from enjoying life, in the name of some dubious ‘honour.’

Which is why, in an after-hours meeting with Mine, as they eat cheap takeout sushi together, Daigo takes his chance. A momentary slip, the slightest hint of wasabi left at the corners of Mine’s lips and Daigo swoops in, rubs a thumb over the corner of Mine’s lips. Mine stutters to a stop, mid-sentence through a rundown of the real-estate that the Hakuho Clan’s been purchasing up, and stares at Daigo, eyes bewildered.

“Sixth Chairman?” he asks, his voice still remarkably composed.

“Wasabi.” Daigo says, nonchalantly, as if it’s nothing, and sticks his thumb into his mouth, slowly licking it off with a lingering lave of his tongue. He feels a sharp stab of satisfaction as Mine’s eyes turn darker, and his gaze follows Daigo’s hand down.  

Daigo straightens up, languidly, and cracks his neck, casually. At this point in the day, he’s untucked his shirt, and he knows that a slight strip of his stomach will be visible when he stretches out his arms towards the ceiling. And as predictably as clockwork, Mine’s gaze darts downwards, to that pale expanse, to catch that brief second of skin. Daigo can’t help but feel warm. Something about being watched by Mine is exhilarating.

“Smoke?” offers Daigo, but as usual, Mine refuses, with a polite shake of his head.

Daigo knows from hearsay that Mine’s something a health-freak, so he’s not entirely surprised. It’s already too late for Daigo to preserve his health—he knows that his liver’s already been pretty ruined from long nights of binge-drinking as a youth, and this job’s too stressful to withhold from vices like smoking and drinking, without an optimal end-goal. So he walks over to the window, cracks it open a little, and lights up.

The breath of nicotine curls over his body, a tender caress, and Daigo feels his shoulders drop, as the relaxation hits. He pulls off his cufflinks, tosses them into his pockets and rolls up his sleeves. He takes it slow, runs his fingers over his skin a little more than strictly necessary. Surreptitiously checking the reflection in the window, Daigo watches Mine watch him, and smirks at how intense that gaze is, how Mine’s mouth has opened, and Daigo can just see the soft pink of his tongue.

“Dojima’s just fine, you know. When it’s just us two.” Daigo says, turning over his shoulder. He smiles, one of those charming smiles that had always gotten him whatever he wanted as a child, “We’re same-aged friends, after all.”

“Dojima-san.” Mine acknowledges, after a brief pause.

Daigo turns around, to properly look at Mine and lifts an eyebrow. “Dojima. Or Daigo, preferably. Dojima-san’s always my father in my head.”

Mine nods, face impassive. Daigo can’t read him like this. Maybe that’s why he likes when Mine stares at him, filled with longing. At least then, Daigo feels like he knows him. In moments like these, his implacable gazes might as well be a brick wall. “Right. Your Father was also in the Tojo Clan.”

Daigo smiles, wryly, and blows out a puff of smoke. “One of the most horrible men I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting—and I had to call him Father. But damn if he wasn’t good at the job.” He sighs and stubs the cigarette out against the ashtray. “...sometimes feel like I’m competing with his dead spirit. Everybody’s looking at me and wondering if this is what my Father would do. Or what Kiryu-san would do.”

“You’re doing better than any of them.” Mine says, immediately, with a vicious ferocity that Daigo wasn’t expecting. He can’t quite stop his eyebrows rising in surprise, and Mine straightens upwards, looking self-conscious immediately. Daigo regrets his instinctual reaction, immediately. “That is to say, Dojima, that I think that you’ve pulled this Clan into somewhere far more respectable. From what I’ve heard of your Father, he didn’t have the temperament to do proper business on this level—too insistent on formal obeisance and unable to be flexible as the times require. And Kiryu-san might be very honourable, but we are yakuza. There are certain things you have to do as a Chairman, that he couldn’t bring himself to do. But you are practical and do what is necessary, while also not overstepping into excessive violence. You are uniquely suited for this job, Dojima.”

...he’s taken aback a little, he can’t deny it. Daigo wonders if his cheeks are colouring, wonders if his obvious shock is offputting, wonders if this is how Mine feels every time Daigo teases him lightly about his obvious attraction. A startling warmth spreads through his chest, and Daigo can’t stop the slight smile that touches his face. Has anybody ever said something so unreservedly kind and measured about Daigo before?

Maybe this is the difference between everybody else’s gazes on him, and Mine’s gaze. It’s based on something more than desire alone. Respect.

Daigo runs a hand over his slicked-back hair and ruffles it free, with a rueful smile, a smile that he couldn’t take away from his face, even if he tried. “I appreciate that. You know I couldn’t do it without you, right?”

He’d never really believed himself capable of attraction to a man like Mine. All of his previous childhood crushes had been on bright, cheerful conversational, pure-hearted people. Daigo had always figured they would balance out his sardonic cynicism. He’d never thought someone as reserved and principled as Mine would ever make his heart flutter. But then, there was something about that deep hunger and passion that Daigo craved. Perhaps it was because he was no longer the gloomy punk of his youth. Maybe his tastes have changed towards tall, dark and handsome. Maybe Mine’s just that special.

“Dojima—” Mine says, clearly trying to refute it, but Daigo cuts him off.

“I mean it. Everybody in this fucking Clan wants me to do something or be somebody else. Kashiwagi-san wants me to be my mother. Majima-san wants me to be Kiryu-san. Everybody else expects my Father. But not you. You deal with me honestly, and with candour, and never hold any expectations against me except success. I appreciate your faith in me.” Daigo takes a couple of steps forward, until his shoes almost brush up against Mine’s own. He leans down over Mine’s chair. “I could not do this without your backing and help. Truly. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone like you in my life. A true friend.”

Mine tilts his chin up to meet Daigo’s gaze, a hungry devotion in his eyes, and Daigo, for a moment, wonders if this is wrong. If he should hold back, like Kiryu would. But Daigo is Daigo, and Mine clearly wants him anyway, so he leans down and kisses him.

Mine’s mouth is velvety smooth and wet and hot and it is oh-so satisfying a feeling to put his hand against Mine’s broad neck and feel his warmth up against Daigo. He pulls back, with a satisfied sigh, and feels the burn of wasabi across his lips, a final parting kick.

[lilana163]

Reunited: Chapter 3

Cygnus Black definitely had a favorite, he wasn't the best father but he was certainly better than Druella when it came to parenting, for the most part. Bellatrix was seen as a disappointment because all Cygnus ever wanted was a boy to call his own, even though the poor girl did everything to please her father and mother. Andromeda was always quiet and kept to herself, Cygnus never thought of his second as a disappointment or disgrace because quite frankly she never gave him a reason to. Narcissa was much like Andromeda, the blonde had a liking to being invisible so it was rare that the angel of the Black sisters would have to face the wrath of Cygnus or Druella. Aurora on the other hand always had a goofy and kind persona, she never felt the need to go invisible and not be herself or beg for the attention of either of her parents, which is why Cygnus Black adored the raven-haired girl the most.

So when he overheard Walburga speak to Orion about Druella almost torturing his daughter into insanity all he could see was red, he loved his wife and would sometimes agree to the punishments she gave their children, but the only person Cygnus loved more than Druella Black was Aurora his precious little star, or so he called.

The black-haired man furiously slammed the door to both his and Druella's bedroom open, his wife sat on the couch with a cigarette between her fingers as she stared into nothingness.

" You almost tortured her into insanity!" Cygnus screamed slamming the door behind him, a bitterness crept on Druellas face as she glanced at her husband.

" That girl needs to learn how to behave," Druella spoke letting a tear fall from her eye, Cygnus rushed up to the blonde lifting her up from where she sat, pinning her up aggressively on the dark green walls grasping onto her neck tightly making the blonde gasp for air.

" You don't torture her to an extent where she could be driven to insanity, if I lose Aurora because of you I'll kill do you hear me?!" Cygnus screamed into the blondes face tightening his grip around her neck, his grey eyes watery as they stared into Druellas green ones.

" You wouldn't d- dare," Druella managed to respond her words barely audible from the tight grip on her neck, Cygnus let on an amused laugh that disturbed the blonde who slowly started to let fear consume her.

" What makes you say that?" Cygnus asked his wife who stared into his cold watery eyes, she then figured out that the man who stood in front of her isn't the man she married but just someone who looked like the shy man who said I do many years ago.

" Because you love me," Druella muttered her words making Cygnus expression soften, he let her go dropping the blonde on the floor, Druella held onto her neck taking as much air she could, Cygnus walked over to the door opening it but before Cygnus left he glanced one last time at his wife.

" Don't count on love, it can get you killed," Cygnus last said leaving the blonde alone in the room. Druella curled up into a ball laying on the floor allowing her tears to fall, she looked at her reflection on the wall desperately crawling to the mirror. Druella winced as she touched the marking of her husband's hand on her neck, she stared into her eyes crying with uneven breathes Druella Black a protective mother, loving wife, a broken woman, she was slowly falling apart, her perfect picture life getting harder to maintain by the day. She was lost, the woman who stared back was unrecognizable she had no idea what her life was to become, and that fearless woman who wasn't afraid of no one was now fearing for her life in many ways.

Cygnus walked across the manor to find his daughter, he reached Aurora's room finding Walburga pacing back and forth in front of the closed white door. His loud footsteps caught the attention of his sister who looked back at him with worried eyes.

" Walburga?" Cygnus whispered loudly slowly approaching the black-haired woman, her grey eyes held concern and nothing more, she was a vile lady but that didn't stop her from caring which was an emotion all Blacks learned to hide, at moments like these maybe it was appropriate to show feelings, yet that's showing weakness, and Blacks are far from weak.

" I'm to assume that you're here to check on Aurora?" Walburga asked Cygnus not bothering to cover the worry which laced in her words.

" Yes," Cygnus replied not quite sure what to make of the situation, his sister never showed anything but coldness, so it would be an understatement to say that he was surprised.

" I would like to know of my niece's well-being, so if you could find me after you see Aurora, that would be much appreciated," Walburga quickly stated rushing off to the direction Cygnus came from with her long black dress flowing behind from the quick movement.

A gentle knock was heard behind the white door alerting all the young Blacks of someone wanting to enter, they all shifted their gaze to the young black-haired girl who put on her brightest smile in an attempt of easing the tension.

" Come in," Aurora announced watching as the door opened revealing her father, the man seemed tense but once he locked eyes with his daughter's green ones he felt his body relax letting out a loud breath he hadn't known he held.

" How's my little star?" Cygnus approached the young girl standing on her bedside, Bellatrix loudly scoffed at the nickname earning a hard glare from Andromeda.

" I'm doing just fine Papa, I could outrun you in a race if I really wanted to," Aurora teased her father nudging him lightly with her elbow, he let out a low laugh playfully shaking his head.

" Rubbish, I always win when we race!" Cygnus boasted puffing out his chest and fixing his posture, looking down at the girl who held amusement in her eyes.

" Because I'm nice enough to let you win old man," Aurora revealed laughing as his facial expression dropped at the word old, the group around them awkwardly stood around the pair feeling nothing but envy at the interaction, though a certain blonde smiled brightly at her father and sister she was certainly happy that they had the relationship they did.

" How about we go and paint, what do you think little star?" Cygnus asked Aurora who nodded excitedly jumping out of her bed, she stumbled a bit from the effects of the cruciatus curse but the little girl managed to hide her weakness and masked it with an energy she didn't have, at a young age Aurora Black learned how to mask and hide things away, not for her but the benefit of those around her, all she ever wants is for good energy to surround those around her which meant that she would have to learn how to hide her true self, but everyone always has that one person who could see through their fake happiness and Auroras person was Narcissa Black.

Cygnus and Aurora left the room not before saying one last goodbye to the others, the father and daughter duo walked across the dark corridor into an art studio, when Aurora was younger she found Cygnus painting and from there, Aurora took interest in her father's hobby which soon became hers.

The studio was surrounded by painted canvases all that belonged to both Aurora and Cygnus, the artwork around them always had a deeper meaning than what caught the naked eye. Cygnus taught his daughter that Art should always have a deeper meaning than just art drawings of an apple and so on, the black-haired man believed that art is one way to express feelings, thoughts, a story, and observations. He always made sure that his daughter's art held a bigger purpose and each canvas the little girl painted always did.

" I'm going to start a new painting Papa," Aurora hummed making her way over to a blank canvas taking it to her easel and paint.

" Fine by me little star, may I ask what you plan to paint this time?" Cygnus told his daughter while he prepared himself to finish his own painting he started two weeks ago.

" You'll find out," she glanced at her father with a small smile before sketching her face on the blank canvas occasionally looking into the mirror she set up beside her.

" Papa, do you love mum?" Aurora mumbled not moving her eyes from her work, Cygnus stared at the girl in shock she had always been so upfront with him on many occasions but this particular question set him off.

" Of course I love your mum Aurora, why wouldn't I?" Cygnus answered going back to his painting not without sparing a few glances at the girl who took a while to respond.

" You two argue a lot, are you sure you love, mum?"  Aurora stated glancing into the mirror analyzing her mouth and each detail that came with her plumped pink lips.

" Do you love mum?" Cygnus returned with a question watching how Auroras let out a genuine smile that reached her eyes.

" Of course I love mum," Aurora turned to met his gaze smiling lightly before turning back to the canvas which stood in front of her.

" But don't you two argue a lot?" Cygnus sent a cheeky grin to his daughter who playfully stuck her tongue out at the grey-eyed man.

" Touché, Mr. Black," Aurora said nodding her head in amusement, Cygnus chuckled at his daughter's reaction before resuming back to his half-done painting.

" I heard you singing to Sirius a few weeks ago, I must admit I'm oddly curious where you heard such a song," Cygnus let out changing the subject unknowingly triggering something inside the little girl.

" You heard that?" Aurora dropped her attention from her painting instead focusing on her father, he rose a brow at the girl her confidence no longer lingering in her tone.

" It was quite a beautiful song, I'd love to listen to it, who's it by again?" Cygnus questioned glancing at his green-eyed daughter who blushed by his comment.

" I actually wrote the song," she shyly whispered Cygnus looked at his daughter not knowing how to feel, he had only heard a few sentences as he passed the corridor though it was enough for him to realize the song was made because of dark thinking.

" I only ever wrote it for Sirius and me, it brings peace to us," Aurora added trying her best to hint that he wasn't meant to hear the song, Cygnus had a worried expression covering his face recalling each word he managed to hear.

" And you relate to the song?" the grey-eyed man queried hoping he was wrong, Aurora simply nodded moving her uncomfortable gaze to her canvas.

" The shadows in your head, they've got you down again, got you feeling low," Cygnus softly spoke staring deep into his daughter's side, Aurora felt his burning gaze but instead kept her focus on the canvas before her.

" It's just words," Aurora remarked fiddling with the hem of her white dress, Cygnus didn't know what to make of the idea of his daughter or nephew feeling such away, so he sat there on his stool letting the silence linger once more.

" Songs are considered art, and art is not meaningless it always tells a story," Cygnus responded under his breath loud enough for the black-haired girl who sat across the room to hear.

" I'm aware Papa," Aurora said with tears brewing in her eyes which she quickly blinked away before they could get noticed and attract unwanted attention.

[grimmseye]

Business

Read on Ao3 Here

Rating: Gen

Fandom: She-ra

Relationships: Hordak & Entrapta, Hordak/Entrapta (pre-relationship

Chapter Characters: Hordak, Entrapta

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Once again, 1500+ words of Hordak’s thoughts about Entrapta, Season 1, The Battle of Bright Moon

— — — — — — — —

 They were so close — the closest they have ever been. Outside was a breathtaking scene: the glow of the Fright Zone, black clouds funneling about, shards of red light fracturing the sky and casting his empire in its glow.

 It was marvelous.

 As he stood on a high balcony, Hordak realized he couldn’t recall the last he’d breathed open air. His days would keep him locked tight inside his lab, occupied with projects or pain, but this was a sight to behold. He only wished he could see its true glory, in what were soon to be the ruins of Bright Moon. Were his armor functioning properly, he would be there now, commanding troops in the field to ensure victory.

 As it was, he could only wait and direct from afar. Force Captain Catra had proved to be an effective leader, despite her record showing no such conditioning. All of Shadow Weaver’s focus had gone to She-ra,neglecting four cadets in favor of a future traitor. And yet, he’d found she needed little intervention in his observations of her work. This had been her discovery, after all. Catra could be trusted with the frontal assault on Bright Moon. It was her fellow captains who needed a guiding hand.

 Almost on cue, his communications pad chirped. It was an alarm, a reminder. His troops were due to make their first strike soon.

 Hordak took one last, lingering glance at the sky. It was an image he hoped his brother would one day see through his eyes, the fruits of his labor. And not just his, but those he held at his side. Force Captain Catra, whom his empire had raised, who had in turn found the key to their success and led them to victory now.

 He committed this moment to memory, and then headed for the Black Garnet chamber.

 Princess Entrapta had commandeered the room for this assault. A web of monitors had been arranged to display various video feeds through his soldiers’ helmets. They were still in the Whispering Woods, nearly unrecognizable through the blizzard. From a speaker in a console below came a voice: “Arriving in Bright Moon in ten minutes. Force Captains Catra, Scorpia, Howler, Grizzlor, are you ready?”  

 Catra was the first to respond. “Ready. Cannons will be set to charge two minutes to arrival.”  

 The others echoed similar statements. As they spoke, the audio feed buzzed out as it was overridden by Catra’s line. “Entrapta, report.”  

 At that, a grate moved. Hordak’s eye ridge lifted as he saw a stout form drop from the ceiling, hair extended like great limbs to carry her body from above and below. She swung in midair, going from a headfirst drop to let her shoes hit the floor, bouncing to the console and leaning down towards its mic. “Everything is going great!” She chirped. “The power drain has stabilized. It should only take a few minutes for the Moonstone to become vulnerable; without it’s magical support, it will become brittle enough for focused fire to shatter it.”

 It was unexpected how her voice went soft instead of peaking into a shout. Imp’s recordings had given a certain impression of Dryl’s princess, the little fiend finding it amusing to capture her excitable moments and shriek them back into Hordak’s ears. Yet now, from her profile, Hordak saw her face go blank.

 A tendril of hair pulled her mask into place, and she continued, voice still chipper, “Anyway, you said I should tell you when there’s nothing new to report so: there’s nothing new to report! Good luck Catra!” She toggled a button, linking another communications line. “And good luck Scorpia!”

“Awww, thanks. Good luck with your, um, science!” came Force Captain Scorpia’s voice.

 “Thanks!” Entrapta said. Another lock of hair turned a knob, quieting the audio feeds until they dimmed to a background murmur.

 Hordak took that moment to announce himself, heavy footfalls catching the princess’ attention. He folded his arms behind his back, keeping his posture straight and looking down his nasal ridge towards her as she turned.

 “Oh, Lord Hordak! Hello!” Her mask flipped up in an instant, and rather than a bow she greeted him with a beaming grin. “Have you come to observe the experiment?”

 He might have corrected her if there weren’t more pressing matters. Instead, Hordak narrowed his eyes, giving a curt, “Indeed.”

 “Great!” A tendril of hair reached for his wrist. He growled and smacked it away, making Entrapta cringe. “Oh, sorry!” She gave an apologetic grin, redirecting her hair to point to the monitors. “I meant to tell you that you can watch everything right here. There’s audio as well but I’d appreciate it if you used the headset instead of the speakers, all the chatter makes it hard to focus.”

 He grunted, finding the headset as she requested. He left one ear uncovered, listening to the stream of voices through the other. All the while, eyes tracked the princess as she worked. From time to time she would spot him looking, give a smile, and then return to her task.

 It was unusual. Hordak was used to his gaze earning him flinches and pale complexions, but Princess Entrapta hardly seemed to mind his presence. She narrated as she worked, a stream of noise he found far more interesting than the captains’ pre-battle checklist.

 Her commentary about the Garnet’s status had his gaze shifting to it, the looming crystal now rigged with cables. They couldn’t bore into it, but the First Ones’ tech the princess had acquired allowed them to somehow integrate tech without installing ports. How Entrapta was combining magic with technology, he wasn’t completely certain.

 It was aggravating.

 “Princess Entrapta,” Hordak called, then realized that in looking away, he’d lost track of her. It took him a few moments for him to spot her, dangling upside down where one cable ran into the ceiling. Her gaze was directed towards him, so he continued, “I would like you to walk me through precisely what you have done with the Black Garnet.”

 The haste of their mission meant she hadn’t submitted a proper report. It was humiliating to not understand how they’d gotten this close to victory. To think that this princess had knowledge he lacked, on this primitive world.

 When he realized she wasn’t speaking, Hordak scowled. “That was an      order.    I hope I do not need to remind you that authority in the Fright Zone is held by me.” And not any wretched princess.    

 “Oh, I understand!” Entrapta said, her voice muffled. He looked to her again, finding her hands covering her mouth, eyes squinted up like she was — smiling?  

 She flipped in midair, landing heavily on the floor and bouncing in place, her hands squeezing around a thick lock of hair thrown in front of her shoulder. “Sorry, I just — you want me to explain?” Her voice came out in a gush, eyes wide.

 “That is what I said,” Hordak ground out. “In as much detail as possible.”

 There was a — squealing. He squinted, realized she was emitting the noise, and was about to inquire about her condition when she leaped for a table. She scooped no less than four data pads up, flipping rapidly through each one and shoving them in his face. He squinted, pushing one tendril back so he could actually take in the screen.

 It was, to put it simply, brilliant. She had to have been experimenting with First Ones’ tech for a long time to have such a sophisticated understanding of how it worked. She was a princess without a Runestone, and yet her breakdown of magic nearly had it making sense. Despite its erratic nature, there were rules it followed — the conditions that made a storm, that formed gales lightning. It was more than he could process all at once, he would need more detail in the future, but the broad picture? Suddenly magic had stopped being something volatile and unknowable, and started being another force of nature.

 It was a ping to his direct communication line that finally interrupted them, irritation spiking through him before he remembered what was on the line. Time had slid by without his noticing.

 He answered to a display of Force Captain Catra, a smile twisting her lips.

 “Lord Hordak,” she started, “we’re two minutes out from Bright Moon. Cannons are charging currently. After the first volley we’ll be sending in the first wave of foot soldiers. We’ll blaze through the city and move directly for the castle from the front. Aerial transport will deliver our troops from the sides and back. I’ll be occupying She-ra while our drones go for the Moonstone.” Her smile grew, vicious. “We’re ready.”

 There was such vitriol in those last words. Hordak echoed her expression, teeth bared in a smile. “Then proceed.”

 The video ended, and he turned his gaze back to the various screens to watch soldiers take their final positions, illuminated by the cannons’ glow.

 “When we are victorious,” Hordak said, looking down at Entrapta, “I will require a full report on what we’ve just discussed.”

 She was still smiling at him. Discomfort started to well in his chest, chased by annoyance. This wasn’t the sharp grin that came with new discovery or conquering enemies — it was soft. He couldn’t comprehend what could possibly be provoking such an expression.

 “Sure thing,” she said. After a pause, she added, “Thanks, by the way. I don’t usually get to talk with people about this stuff. Bow kind of got it, but we really only talked for a few minutes.” Her smile faded for a moment, but then her expression brightened. “But Catra and Scorpia ask me about my projects, and Scorpia even listens, even if she doesn’t get it. And you do. Get it, I mean.” The smile grew. “It’s been fun talking with you.”

Fun. He squinted at her. “This is for the purpose of conquering Etheria, not for fun,” he sneered, crossing his arms.

 “Maybe not, but I still enjoyed it at least.” She shrugged, then walked over towards the monitors. On the screen, through one soldier’s visor, he could see as they broke the boundary of the woods, the cliffs of Bright Moon rising up and topped with its opulent castle. The scene was bathed in the toxic glow of plasma, brightening as each cannon signaled its charge.

 Entrapta flipped her mask down as the first shots rained against the cliffs, and into the city built upon them.

[pagingevilspawn]

Could you please write a fic like the continuation of you said you would grow old with me that their child is born and jo tells their child about alex ?

wishin’ you were sitting here, right next to me

okay, this is being posted right at midnight (lets pretend) , happy new year! i’ll fix it later lol.

this is like a part two to ‘you said you’d grow old with me’. so if you haven’t read that one already, you can read it here! 

Twelve year old Bree Karev sat on her bed in her room, confused, and even a little bit mad. Today marked yet another failed attempt to set her mom up on a date. Ever since she was eight, Bree had been trying to push guys toward her mom. It was never hard for her to convince men, one look at Jo and they’d be gone, but her mom politely declined. Every. Single Time.

Bree was a hopeless romantic. One that believed in happily ever afters and love at first sight. She knew that her mom was still in love with her dad, that she always would be, but it had been nearly thirteen years since his death. She just wanted her mom to be happy, and what better way to be happy than have someone to laugh with and smile until your cheeks hurt?

Never once had she seen her mom with a man that wasn’t a friend. No boyfriends, and as far as she knew, any potential one-night stands would’ve occurred when she was out of the house, so who knows if she even had any of those.

The girl is broken from her thoughts when she feels a soft knock on her door, looking up to see her mom in her doorway, a small smile on her face. “Get ready for bed, you have school tomorrow.” Jo says, about to turn around when her daughter’s voice stops her.

“Wait,” she says, looking at her mom with implying eyes. “Why do you always say no?” she asks.

Jo looks at her daughter, her small smile dropping from her face. Truthfully, she had fully forgotten about her daughter’s little set up from a few hours before, more focused on spending time with Bree than her attempts to meddle with her love life.

“I know you still love him, I do too. But, it’s been so long.” Bree says, not noticing how Jo’s eyes grow sad, too focused on picking at the skin near her fingernails.

Jo sighs, making her way over to her daughter’s bed and sitting down next to her, ruffling the grey and white floral comforter underneath them, which matched the rest of the bedroom’s decor.

“Why don’t you want to move on?” the girl asks.

Jo lets out a loud sigh. It was time Bree learned their story. Their crazy, messed up, love story that was like something out of a soap opera. She’d been putting it off for years, waiting until Bree was older, more mature. She would’ve preferably waited until she was sixteen, but she knew her (not-so-little) little girl was getting frustrated. Jo knew that Bree’s intentions were pure every time she tried to set her up. It wasn;t because she felt she didn’t have a father figure, it was something she wanted to do just for her mom.

The mom purses her lips, prepared to let the words flow out of her mouth. Right now, she wouldn’t let her brain filter through what she was going to say. She wasn’t going to hold back. Bree deserved that.

“Your dad taught me what love was- no, showed me what love was, real love.” she feels Bree’s eyes on her. Telling her daughter about her past was something that was terrifying her to her core. It was something she would’ve liked to keep secret, but knew that that couldn’t be the case.  

Jo lets out a shaky breath. “I was twenty-two when I met Paul Stadler.” she starts, not needing to look over to know that her daughter’s eyes were wide. Her mom wasn’t one to talk about ex’s. Granted, Jo didn’t really have many.

“He was charming, funny, kind,” Jo huffs, taking her daughter’s hand in hers and rubbing her thumb against the back of it. It didn’t matter how many years passed, Paul and memories of what had been would always haunt her. While she was pregnant with Bree, her nightmares had started back up again. It wasn’t until a while later when she realized the only reason she stopped having them for all those years was because she had Alex holding her while she slept, when she felt completely safe. They had dialed down over the years, but occasionally she would wake up in cold sweats, her dreams feeling too close to reality.

“I thought he was Prince Charming, coming in and sweeping Cinderella off her feet,” she says honestly, feeling sorry for the girl she used to be. She stopped cursing herself for those years a long time ago. It wasn’t her fault what happened to her. It took years of therapy, but she knew that now. She was a survivor, not a victim. She saw what everyone else did in Paul, what he wanted to show.

“He was every girl’s dream. He seemed perfect. And that first year, he was.” She looks over at her daughter, her eyes glossed over. “So, when he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him-” Jo swallows roughly, squeezing Bree’s hand, “I said yes.”  

The girl was shocked to say the least. Her mom had been married previously? Why had she never heard that before? Her mom was fairly open about her life, so why hadn’t she heard about her mom’s first husband?  

Jo sighs, “After our wedding, Paul… changed,” she settles on, feeling Bree’s curious eyes on her. She really wished they were having this conversation when she was older. Bree was smart, mature, more so than other kids her age, but Jo still wanted to protect her from the world.  

How was she supposed to tell her that monsters didn't live under the bed, but rather slept beside you every night?

“He was angrier, the Paul I had gotten to know fading away quicker than I could even realize it.” she squeezes Bree’s hand again, giving her the strength she needed. “About two months after we got married, everything shifted.” Jo knew that she wouldn't go into detail. No matter how strong her little girl was, no daughter needed to hear about the abuse their mother suffered.  

Bree sat frozen on her bed, not knowing what to say.

“For three years, I was in a relationship that made me loose who I was. I was unrecognizable, he controlled everything. To say i was a shell of my former self is an understatement. I spent years trying to tell myself that he would go back to the man I fell in love with if I did what he wanted, if I did everything perfectly. It took me three years to figure out the man I fell in love with didn’t exist, it was all just a facade.

“After graduation I ran. I stole some money from him, ran away, and changed my name to Jo Wilson.”

Bree looks up to her mom, her palm held tightly in the woman's, “Jo’s not your real name?” she asks.

Jo shakes her head. “No, Jo is my real name. It’s just not the one I was born with. ‘Jo’ was always inside of me, the person I always was, she just never had the chance to come out.” she answers honestly.

“When I came to Seattle I had one goal, and that was to be the best surgeon I could be. I thought that maybe I'd date a few guys here and there, but nothing too serious. That obviously didn’t end up being the case.” she lets out a soft chuckle, letting the memories of her intern year flood back to her. God, back then she was so scared, so frightened so downright terrified. It was hard to believe that it was twenty years ago she first laid eyes on the man who became the love of her life. How time flies. She still remembers being that wide-eyed intern that thought Meredith was Medusa, who thought that Alex was the world’s largest asshole to walk the face of the earth.

It was crazy; how one person could have such a large impact on your life, to have been a part of the process of who you are today.

She decided that she needed to hurry the story along and not get too lost in the past. “When I first met your dad I hated him.” she says bluntly, making Bree’s eyes widen like saucers. Of all the things she was expecting to hear her mom say about her dad, finding out that she hated him at the beginning of it all was not one of them.  

Jo chuckles, “It’s true. He was a huge asshole who’s already slept with all of my friends and flirted with any female that had two legs.” she smiles at the flashback pouring in through her head.

“Do you mind?”

“Sorry”

“Why are you following me?”

“I’m your intern for the day.”

“Hello intern, you have a name?”

“Jo Wilson.”

“Nice. I like chicks with boy’s names.”

“I have absolutely no interest in you since you’ve already slept with every single one of my friends”

How ironic, she thinks.

Jo tucks a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear, looking into the eyes that were a mirror image of her own. Bree’s lips quirk up into a crooked grin, a sight that melted Jo’s heart every time. Their daughter had inherited Jo’s favorite feature about Alex.

“It only took getting drunk at a wedding, sharing about our crappy childhoods, and fake crying our way into a hotel room for us to become best friends overnight.” she lets a smile paint over her lips. “After that day we were inseparable. I would crash at his place most days of the week, passing out on the couch I bought for him after drinking beer, ordering take-out, and watching action movies together, oblivious to my feelings for him.”

Jo internally laughs at herself, trying to decide if she could go back in time whether she would’ve waited to get together with him or not. If she didn’t wait, she would’ve had longer with him, but something she always held so close to her was that they fell in love with each other even though they’d never kissed. She always thought it was just a small example of how strong their love for each other was.

“I dated a guy, the guy wasn’t a good guy. I finally realized I was in love with your dad when a tree came crashing through his living room.” she chuckles, Bree doing the same. Leave it up to her mom to have a life changing realization during the middle of a disaster

“This thought was weird, foreign to me. I’d never kissed him before, never really hugged him, so being in love with him was terrifying. But when he told me that he loved me?” Jo smiles, her eyes flutter shut as their conversation in the supply closet plays out before her.

“This place looks so different in the dark.”

“Yeah... You think the tree ruined my couch?”

“I think it ruined your entire living room.”

“Listen, I have to tell you something.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“I think I do and you shouldn’t.”

“Jo-”

“I’ll mess it up, Alex. I mess everything good in my life up, and… we work as friends really well, and-and I don’t want to mess that up.”

“You won’t mess anything up. Last night, before the tree, you asked me a question. You wanted to hear me say the words. So I'm… saying them right now.”

“I don't hear anything.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay but i’m-”

“I’m serious.”

“Fine.”

“I love you.”

“The first time we kissed and I looked into his eyes,” Jo shakes her head, bemused with herself. “All I could think was, ‘There you are, it's you. I’ve been waiting for you for so long’.” she chuckles despite herself, wiping the single tear making its way down her cheek, knowing that whenever Alex was right now, he was shaking his head at her, trying to hide a laugh at her heartfelt statement, but yet holding it close to his heart, knowing that she meant every word.  

“We were far from perfect. We bickered back and forth, called each other names. Not to mention, our stubbornness always got in the way of us. But none of that really mattered, because at the end of the day, we’d fall asleep in each other’s arms, whether we were fighting or not. And even if we were fighting, he would always kiss me good morning and good night. Always. No matter what.” Jo lets out another huff of air, still being able to remember the feel of his lips on hers, the way they tasted, the way they moved. She smiles a small cheeky smile, “Good morning and goodnight kisses were important to him.”

She longed for it. Another kiss. Another moment. Another conversation. Another beer. Another crooked grin. Another boyish laugh. Another inappropriate joke. Another steamy shower. Another nuzzle with his scratchy beard. Another round of doughnuts in supply closets. Another chance to fake cry to get a hotel room. Another annoying comeback. Another hug. Another ‘I love you.’

One more second. One more second with him, so she could tell him about their beautiful little girl. One more second, so he could meet her, hold her, hug her. That’s all she wanted.  

They sit in silence for a while, taking in the peace around them. Jo observes the light grey walls, white furniture, messy dresser, the string lights on the wall, the photos on the strings. Bree gets up unexpectedly, grabbing a photo from the wall walking back over to the bed with it in her hand, passing it to her mom as she sits down again.

Jo traces her finger over the photograph, a lighthearted smile making its way to her lips unconsciously. It was an older photo, one from about two years after she and Alex had started dating. It was a simple couple pose; Alex standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her middle, Jo leaning into him, her hands placed over his. She was smiling wide for the camera, while he was half-smirking, half-grinning.

“Oh oh! I wanna take a picture!” Jo exclaimed excitedly as she stood on the ferry boat, the sun casting a breathtaking pink, orange, and yellow glow over the normally dark blue water.

She hears him groan behind her as she leans over the railing, elbows resting on the bar as her hair blows in the breeze, a gentle smile painting her lips.

She was a sight to see, Alex couldn’t help but grin right then. He always loved her the most when she was like this; calm, messy hair, a little bit of leftover makeup from earlier, just completely content with herself and everything around her.

He watches as she tilts her head back, eyes closed as she lets the sun’s rays shine onto her face, creating a natural glow that only seemed to add to the beauty she so naturally possessed.

Jo looks over to him, flashing Alex an overly sweet, sugary smile. “Pleaseee.” she begs, eyes dancing with childlike joy. He would gladly do it, he just didn’t want to look like a tourist. He freaking hated tourists.  

He mumbles something inaudible, which Jo takes as an opportunity to ask again. “Just one! Please Alex, just one picture!” she gives him her best puppy dog eyes, pointing up one finger to show him that she was true to her word.

“Fine.” he huffs, scratching the back of his neck and extending his palm, “Gimme your phone.”

His girlfriend gives him a confused look, “Um no, what do you think you’re doing?” she asks, furrowing her brows.  

Alex’s face twisted into one of incredulously, “Taking your picture?” he asks.

Jo shakes her head, “No, you’re taking the picture with me.”  

Alex grimaces, “Nuh-uh.” he hated taking pictures. His smile was weird and he felt like a gun was being pointed to his head whenever someone tried to correct the crookedness of his grin.

“Please Alex,” Jo pleads, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

She could see the internal battle playing in his head. He normally wouldn’t mind taking a photo, but there were people around, and if there was one thing Alex Karev hated, it was public embarrassment.

But how could he resist her? He couldn’t, so with a huff and a ‘you’re lucky i love you’ mumbled under his breath he watches as Jo asks a random woman to take their photo. He wraps his arms around her, her fingers interlacing with his as she leans back into him, standing between his legs with her head against his chest.

“One, two, three, smile!” the woman says enthusiastically.

Before three, Alex quirks his lips up, reaching down slightly so he could speak in Jo’s ear. “Tourist.” he says, making her laugh right as the woman took the photo.

Jo feels her daughter's eyes on her, but she still looks at the photo. They looked so young, so free. Back then the only care was whether or not Meredith would be coming over to kick her out of bed that night. Fun times.

“I just want you to smile like that again.” Bree says quietly, Jo’s eyes snapping up with confusion.

“Sweetie…” she trails off, tucking a stand of her daughter’s long brown hair behind her ear, eyes shining with unshed tears. She picks up a photo from Bree’s dresser, holding it side by side to the picture of her and Alex.

“I smile like that all the time.” she grins, the same smile on her face now as it was in the two photographs in her hand.

Bree had never looked at it like that before. The two smiles were identical, you could tell when you held them next to each other. She grins widely, she makes her mom as happy as her dad did.  

The girl feels her mom wipe a stray tear, one she hadn't even noticed had escaped her eyes. JO wraps and arm around Bree, pulling her into a side hug, holding her there for as long as she pleases.

“How different do you think life would be if he was still here?” she asks her mom, eyes glossy and shining with love.

Jo chuckles, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Well…” she starts off. It felt good talking about Alex. She had never talked about him like this before. She told stories, spewed little facts here and there, but never went into too much detail, fearing that it would hurt too much. Turns out, it actually felt really good.

“You would have siblings, that’s for sure.” Bree shoved her mom’s shoulder, a laugh escaping her lips. The mood grew more serious, “But, if he was still here…” she looks into the corner of the room, imagining the love of her life standing there right now, arms crossed in front of his chest, signature crooked grin plastered in his lips, a little child hanging onto his leg like a monkey.

“He would’ve braided your hair.” her eyes grow teary as she smiles softly. “And, he would’ve called you Princess.” she swallows the lump in her throat. “You two would always be getting into trouble together. God, you would’ve been such a daddy’s girl.” she doesn’t even bother to wipe a tear from her cheek, knowing that they would just keep coming. “There would be full cooked breakfasts on the table nearly every morning, since he would get up early just to make it. And he would say that you weren’t allowed to date until you were forty.” she laughs.

Bree looks up at her mom, confused. “But Mom, you do all that.”

Jo smiles, placing another kiss on the top of her head full of brown hair. “I know, and I do it because it’s what he would’ve done.” she wipes tears from her daughter's cheeks.

“But I want you to know that I love you, okay?” Jo reassures her. “I love you more than anything else in this world, you hear me? And even though your dad’s not here right now,” she points to her heart, water dripping down her cheeks rapidly, her voice squeaky and broken. “He’s right here, with me. Every second of every day. And I miss him, I will never stop missing him, but that doesn’t mean I will ever love you any less. And I am so happy baby. I am so, so happy, and that’s because of you, okay?”

Bree wipes at her eyes, smiling up at her mom. “Okay, I love you mom.”

Jo gives her a watery grin, placing a delicate kiss on her forehead, “I love you too Bree. So much.”

[dinfeanoriel]

Safeguard

Hey! I’ve been gone awhile, but I’m back with a little something! 

~~~~~~~~~

His face was familiar.

Then again, all of their faces were familiar because they were their own. As strange as it was to say, the resemblance between the nine was uncanny and undeniable. 

But his...His was far more familiar to Time. Something about it nagged at him. It was constantly poking and prodding, urging him to delve deep into his mind and strive to uncover, to find out, why he recognized him more so than the others. 

With Twilight, it had clicked into place they were somehow related. A descendant of his from far down the line. 

Could it be the same with him? 

Remember. 

Remember! 

But he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to remember. Where he’d seen his face? That was a rather pointless endeavor and would undoubtedly lead to a fruitless search. 

He recalled their first meeting vividly and both had experienced an eerie familiarity with one another for reasons they were unsure of. Time could tell from his carefully crafted expressions that Warrior recognized him also but was at a loss as to how and why. 

This further confirmed to Time that they must have met once upon a time. 

But when? How? 

Surely, Time would have been able to recall such an extraordinary event. It wasn’t everyday one met an incarnation of themselves.  

It also wasn’t everyday one met eight incarnations of themselves, and yet, here they were. 

But, Time digressed 

The resemblance between the two was striking. All of the Links had been taken aback and put off by it. 

~~~~

“Are you two related?” Wind once asked. The Sailor was sitting between Warrior and Four, constantly looking between the Knight and the Old Man across from him. 

“Thank you, Wind, for asking!” Legend expelled a breath, “I have been wanting to know for a while now!” 

Wanting but never asking. 

The others appeared to have wondered the same if their sudden interest in the conversation was of any evidence. 

Twilight was certainly curious. While he and Time knew they were related, it was always possible for there to be more relatives. 

Warrior gave a warm chuckle and shook his head, “No. We aren’t.” 

He disheveled Wind’s hair for good measure, ignoring the Sailor’s indignant cry. 

Time couldn’t help but frown at the answer. Something about it bugged him. Was it the forced sincerity behind Warrior’s voice? The frail conviction in his eyes? The bitterness and subtle scowl Warrior skillfully hid from the others? 

He never dared to ask. 

~~~~

Of course, it wasn’t only the Links who recognized the uncanny resemblance between the two. Time’s wife, Malon, had noted it. When Malon had first been introduced to the Links, her eyes were drawn to Warrior and then Twilight almost instinctively. Her eyes shuttered with something unknown, her heart tugging at something foreign yet more than welcome. 

Time had already informed her of having met a descendant of their’s. At first, Malon believed it to be Warrior, then possibly Wind, only to discover later it was Twilight. 

However, Malon appeared to be dissatisfied with something Time couldn’t pinpoint. She was overjoyed and exuberant from having learned they had a descendant. She’d been unable to quell her excitement and contagious, toothy, smiles for several days. She’d gushed to Time in a neverending stream of proud words and happiness about being able to meet Twilight. 

~~~~

“That boy reminds me of you from when you were younger,” Malon once remarked to Time, drying a plate with a hand towel. “Sixteen, I’d have to say.” 

“Warrior?” Funny how he knew exactly who she was referring to. 

Malon hummed with a nod of her head, “He looks so much like you, it’s unbelievable! I was almost convinced I was staring at a younger version of you. As the Hero of Time, I wouldn’t have doubted it was.” 

“You aren’t the first to make such a claim,” He’d informed his wife, instinctively searching for Warrior among the group of Heroes running about outside. They were indulging Wind in one of his favorite games, looking far more relaxed and at ease than Time had ever seen them. 

He found Warrior nearest Twilight and struggled to hold back a laugh when a disgruntled Cucco leaped out from behind them, angrily flapping its wings and clucking furiously. The pure and unadulterated fear that crossed their faces and the comical widening of their eyes was something Time would forever remember. 

To think a Cucco of all things was able to extract such sheer and absolute terror from those possessing the Triforce of Courage...

Wonders never ceased, Time supposed. 

He’d never seen them move so fast before. Twilight and Warrior were gone before he could blink, kicking up a cloud of dust as they bolted across the ranch to safety. Legend, Hyrule, Wind, and Four were quick to drop everything and follow their example, fleeing for their lives and leaving behind an utterly baffled Sky. 

Ever the bold one, Malon snorted, 

“I believe it.” 

Time hadn’t been able to shake those words from his mind ever since. 

~~~~

It frustrated Time to no end that he was no closer to uncovering the answer he’d been seeking. It was so close yet so far away. Almost out of reach. Time wasn’t sure how to cross the distance without alerting Warrior. 

When in the heat of battle, Time more-often-than-not found himself partnering with Warrior. The two made for an unbeatable duo who conquered the battlefield with hardly any effort. 

They worked well together, adapting to one another’s style and technique without trouble and swooping in with a killing blow when the other faltered or stepped aside. 

It pestered him. 

A strange, niggling sensation told him this wasn’t the first they’d fought together. Nor would it be the last. 

How was it possible? 

What really took the cake was what occurred that night. 

The Links were weary from a long day of travelling and exhausted from the three battles they’d partaken in. Setting up camp took longer than usual due to the bone-deep fatigue affecting each Hero. Still, Wild put together a wholesome meal for them to enjoy and the Links slipped into sharing a couple or so stories of their adventures. 

Time merely listened, his stoic gaze slipping towards Warrior every-so-often. The Old Man had noticed something about the Knight. For as much as he loved to talk, his voice filling the silence and becoming something they were accustomed to listening to, they knew next to nothing about him. 

Time mulled on this surprising fact, troubled. He sifted through a list of what he knew about the Knight: 

1. He was a Knight 2. Obtained a nasty scar from the Dragon Knight Volga 3. Fought Ganondorf and a sorceress called Cia 4. Faced Dark Link 5. Fought a war 6. Has several sisters

The more Time thought, the steeper his frown became. He hardly knew anything about Warrior. 

Why was this? 

Warrior skillfully crafted each individual conversation he participated in. He manipulated the subject away from himself and slyly shifted the topic to others. When directly questioned about his adventure, Warrior gave a simple summary, skimmed over details, and wrapped it up promptly. None of them noticed for the way Warrior would speak, how he would draw them into a fascinating tale and keep them on their toes with suspense, distracted them from recognizing how he never directly spoke of himself. 

Tonight, the Heroes were showing a few of their instruments to pass time until Wild finished cooking. 

Legend and Sky compared their harps, Wind whipped out his baton and Spirit Flute, Hyrule revealed his recorder, and Twilight allowed Four to admire his Horse Call. 

“What about you, Time?” Wind curiously asked, drawing the oldest Hero from his thoughts, “Do you have an instrument?” 

Suddenly, Time found himself in the spotlight once more. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to join in just this once. 

“I do,” Time replied, watching the Heroes perk up and look to him expectantly. He smothered a smile and shook his head, “I don’t suppose you would want to see?” 

Wind bounded forward, “Oh yes!” he cried excitedly, “I want to see!” 

Time huffed out a small chuckle, pausing long enough in his rifling through his pack to ruffle Wind’s already disheveled hair. Warrior would undoubtedly fix it later. 

“Very well. It is a rare and incredibly important instrument.” 

“Why is that?” Surprisingly, it was Legend who voiced the question. The snarky Hero drew closer, influencing the others to do the same. Before Time knew it, they had formed a crescent moon around him. Warrior sat across from him, Wind in his lap and arms loosely wrapped around the enthusiastic sailor. Twilight, Wild, and Hyrule were to their left with Legend, Sky, and Four to their right. 

“It was given to me by Princess Zelda,” Time explained, carefully shifting through his pack to find his beloved instrument, “And it helped me greatly on my adventures.” Legend nodded in understanding. 

At long last, Time felt the familiar outline of this beloved instrument and he delicately slipped it out for all to see. It was a tad amusing to see the awe and wonder appear in their eyes. Wind was especially amazed by the blue, peculiarly shaped and unfamiliar instrument. 

“What is it?” Sky asked, briefly meeting Time’s eye. 

“An Ocarina,” 

Time stopped, mouth open but no words having escaped. The answer to Sky’s question lingered on the tip of his tongue, dissipating into nothingness the instant a different voice replied for him. 

His gaze snapped to Warrior immediately. The Knight’s grip on Wind had tightened imperceptibly, his back and shoulders stiff, and disbelieving eyes glued to the Ocarina of Time. There was a strange, unrecognizable intonation to his voice Time told himself to pay close attention to. 

He narrowed his own gaze, wondering at Warrior’s unexpected reaction. There was something more to it. The familiarity in which Warrior stared at the Ocarina of Time and the shock carefully hidden behind deep pools of blue. 

Wind dropped his head back, peering up at Warrior quizzically, 

“You’ve seen one before, Warrior?” 

Upon hearing his voice, Warrior slowly blinked and shook himself from whatever daze had overtaken him. That infamous, charming, smile Warrior was known for stretched his lips and he answered,  “I have, a long while ago,” 

Time frowned at the vague response. 

“They are incredibly rare, however,” 

And there he went, deflecting the attention from himself back to Time. 

“They are indeed,” Time agreed lowly, studying Warrior intently, “To my knowledge, there are only two Ocarinas. There could be more, but I have yet to find another.” 

Before anymore could be said, Wild declared dinner was ready and the Links were up and gone in a flash. 

~~~~

Young Link sat idly on a boulder in Hyrule Field, small legs kicking in the air as he hummed a catchy tune to himself. The battle had long since ended and he took this precious little time to rest and regain his strength before they moved out once more. He knew the call to march would sound soon and sorrow swelled in his heart. Young Link had seen plenty of darkness, death, and despair. He had witnessed the world’s end many times over and struggled to rescue a land threatened by a looming moon and a Mask wielding a great and terrible, ancient, power. He’d traveled through time, back and forth and back and forth, until he’d put an end to the King of Evil, returned the Master Sword, and warned Princess Zelda of the oncoming storm. 

Now, here he was, warped into another world and whisked away on yet another adventure to help beat back the darkness poisoning the lands of this Hyrule. 

In his hands, Link gingerly held the Ocarina of Time. Princess Zelda had given it to him- claimed it might one day help him. A subtle way of telling Link he would need it someday. The thought terrified him. 

Everything was doom and gloom nowadays and it saddened Young Link to know of the evils and horrors people were capable of. Of the atrocities and tragedies many would suffer down the road. 

It was hard accepting not everyone could be saved. 

The quiet shuffling of booted feet drew Young Link from his dark, restless, thoughts and the boy in green turned his head to find a familiar Hylian approaching. His face was blurred, his figure distorted in a way to hide his identity. He could recognize the color green and blue and the blonde hair, but other than that, nothing. 

Hands rose and signed quickly, gesturing to the Ocarina curiously. 

Young Link grinned, a tinge of nostalgia slipping into the gesture, and answered, 

“This is an Ocarina. The Ocarina of Time,” He presented it freely, unafraid. He knew he could trust this stranger implicitly. 

The blurred figure nodded to themselves, and Young Link could imagine an intrigued frown twisting their lips. 

“It’s an instrument!” Young Link brightly elaborated, cradling the Ocarina and bringing it up for the other to get a better look. He knew the knight wouldn’t try to steal from him, “A beautiful one too. It was given to me.” 

“Ocarina...” The ghost of a whisper caressed Young Link’s ear and the child snapped his head up in surprise. This was the first time he’d heard the other’s voice. It was surprisingly warm and soft. Amiable and kind. 

“You should talk more,” Young Link chirped from where he was perched, startling his companion, “You’re voice...it’s...it’s nice to hear.” 

A shy chuckle echoed in his ears before darkness ringed around the edges, closing in...

“Thank you...” 

~~~~

Time blinked his eyes open drowsily, squinting when tendrils of sunlight pierced them for a blinding moment. The remnants of his dream lingered in his mind, troubling the Old Man as he pondered on it. 

It felt...familiar. 

Real. 

Like a distant memory. Lost due to the passage of time and then found again. 

He sat up, his mind foggy and thoughts whirling in confusion. He raked a hand through his golden hair, wondering at the dream. Had it been a simple dream? Or was there more to it? 

The more he mused on it, the pesky sensation in the back of his mind became stronger- telling him this was a memory he’d somehow suppressed and had freshly excavated. 

The voice...

It struck him as eerily familiar and yet unfamiliar. He’d heard it once before. 

“Old Man?” 

Time blinked slowly, raising his head to find Legend standing before him with an eyebrow raised. 

“I’ve been calling to you for a while now,” The red-clad Hero huffed, crossing his arms and inclining his head, “You were staring into oblivion...” 

Time would have smiled at the hidden concern behind Legend’s words. His extremely subtle way of expressing worry and asking whether or not he was okay. 

“I’m alright,” Time said, suppressing a groan when he drew himself to his feet. He must be getting old. His body kept protesting against movement of any kind. He was no longer as agile and nimble as he once was, but he was stronger and wiser. The older Hero clasped Legend’s shoulder and looked to find the seven other Heroes efficiently packing up camp under Warrior’s guidance. The Captain’s scarf fluttered in the strong breeze and Warrior fumbled to keep it from unraveling. 

Warrior...

~~~~

Young Link watched his friend care and wash his blood-stained scarf. He scrutinized every inch of the fabric, checking to make sure there were no rips or tears. 

“You really like your scarf, don’t you?” The small Hero stated with a small smile. His friend reminded him much of himself and how he treated the Ocarina of Time as if it were the most precious item in the world. 

It was to him, and he supposed his friend held similar sentimentality towards his scarf. 

His friend paused momentarily, sparing him a glance. His face was soft and open. There was no harshness or sternness now that the battle was over and they were granted time for respite before they would start again. 

His friend’s eyes glimmered with an unknown emotion as he regarded the scarf he held in his hands. 

“Yes,” He softly murmured with a nod of his head, “I do...It reminds me of him.” 

Whoever ‘he’ was, Young Link never did discover, but he knew whoever they were, they must have been important to his friend. 

~~~~

Time pursed his lips at the Knight. It aggravated him that he couldn’t pinpoint why he found the Captain awfully familiar. 

Legend shuffled in place, gaze flitting from Time to Warrior. The intense look on their leader’s face, the narrowing of his eyes and searching gaze... What could he possibly be looking for? 

Time hummed to himself, uncertain and curious, “I suppose a few questions are in order...” 

Legend quirked an eyebrow at him but Time said nothing more. Instead, he pat Legend’s shoulder and moved away to help Wind untangle himself from the shrubs he’d miraculously caught himself up in. 

The Sailor was a giggling mess, a fondly exasperated Warrior and amused Sky hovering about attempting to tug him out. 

“Of all things, Wind, and I just did your hair-” Warrior halfheartedly scolded the teen, 

“Come now, Warrior,” Time interjected smoothly, slipping beside the Captain, “I recall a certain incident at a particular waterfall-” 

Legend’s curiosity was piqued when Warrior turned a surprising shade of red, stuttering, 

“I-I have absolutely no idea what you’re referring to!” 

Time’s deep laughter encompassed the air, his shoulders shaking from the movement. The Links looked on with interest. It was rare for their leader to laugh so freely and with such unrestrained warmth and mirth. 

“Wait, what incident?” Hyrule wanted to know.  “Yes, do tell!” Four encouraged. 

Warrior floundered desperately. 

“No, don’t!” 

~~~~

It was when they were abruptly transported to Warrior’s world that things took an unexpected turn. 

Twilight’d thought Warrior would be thrilled to return to his home and give them a tour of his Hyrule but his keen senses told him otherwise. Warrior was displeased and reluctant. 

His confident and sure stature had wilted and his booted feet thumped against the ground a little heavier than normal. 

He plastered on a fake smile to fool the others, but Twilight saw right through it. The Knight did not appear at all happy to be here and it baffled Twilight. The forced cheer in Warrior’s voice when he would speak and the faux-prep in his step were a facade he kept tightly wound about himself. A vain attempt to convince the Links he was beyond enthused to be back. 

Twilight ambled a little behind Warrior, off to the side. He caught sight of the dark frown twisting his companion’s features and the contemplative, almost strained and hesitant look on his face. He could practically see the gears turning nonstop in the Hero’s head. His eyes had dimmed, becoming dark and stormy. 

Quickening his pace, Twilight moved to walk alongside the Knight. Warrior snapped out of his thoughts upon catching his movement and shot the Ordonian a questioning look. 

“Something you need, Twilight?” 

Twilight shook his head at the split-second transformation he witnessed steal over his companion. The amiable tone, weak smirk, and glad expression. 

“You aren’t fooling me, Warrior.” 

Warrior faltered. It was slight, not really noticeable, but Twilight noted it. His smirk faded, growing frail and crackly until it vanished completely and the grim expression from before replaced the faux-delighted one. He looked away- another sign that something was bothering him. 

It had to be something serious if it affected Warrior this much. 

“Sorry,” Warrior apologized a little gruffly, staring down the path they were on, “This road brings back some awful memories.” His demeanor visibly darkened, “And what lies at the end is worse.” 

Twilight could understand. While he didn’t know Warrior’s story, he knew how it could be. How a simple object, place, or person could dredge up the worst of memories. 

“Is there a different path we could take?” 

Warrior looked briefly surprised by Twilight’s suggestion, but shook his head.  “Unfortunately, no, or I would have taken one. But I cannot-” Warrior cut off, clenching his fists, “Will not,” He managed to say between clenched teeth, “Run from it. I was bound to face it one day. Might as well be this one.” 

Twilight averted his gaze. He was never one for sentimentality or comforting, but he darn well tried. 

“It might not be much, but we’re here with you.” 

This time, Warrior stopped briefly, lifting his head to stare at Twilight for a moment before a small, genuine, smile curved his lips and he started walking again. 

“That’s more than I could ask for,” He admitted in a quiet murmur. Twilight recognized it for the thanks it was. 

He stayed next to Warrior for the remainder of the trip and never strayed even as the sun began to fall and the moon gradually ascended. 

~~~~

He walked alongside a tall, intimidating, Dragon Knight, swallowed up by his shadow. Volga had surprisingly taken a role as his protector- though Young Link had little need of one. He could hold his own quite well, thank you. 

Their fellow soldiers were grim-faced and determined. 

This tale was drawing to an end. 

At least, he hoped. He didn’t want his friend to suffer more than he already had. He didn’t want him to experience the same horrors he himself had. If he could spare his friend that, Young Link would. It was a vow he kept close to his heart and strove his hardest to achieve. 

The road was long and dark. The roiling clouds above thunderous and ominous, instilling a sense of foreboding in the armies trudging beneath them. Already, Young Link recognized the wavering resolve in some of the soldiers and he scowled. 

Would there be more turncoats? Traitors? Those hurt his friend more than any physical wound ever could. 

Speaking of his friend... 

Cobalt blues scanned the faces of the nearby Knights, searching for one in particular. He spotted him marching up ahead, accompanying the Princess and General Impa discussing strategy. 

Without a word, Young Link bounded away and hopped to his friend’s side. He could see the steely resolve in his face- so alike his own. Young Link had no doubt that his friend would succeed in ridding this world of the Sorceress’s curse and consequently saving Hyrule. 

Hyrule was, in his empirical opinion, useless when it came to times likes these. It always fell upon the shoulders of the Hero to struggle, suffer, and strive to save her. 

There was also a look in his friend’s eyes that Young Link found he didn’t like. Ever since his friend had retrieved the Master Sword, he’d grown reckless and prideful. Never a good combination. 

Young Link feared for his friend. The upcoming battle would no doubt be the most difficult and trying and he knew if his friend didn’t snap out of it, he would wind up getting himself killed. 

Well then, Young Link would just have to stick to his side and make sure he didn’t. It would be easier said than done, but more than worth it. 

Without much thought, Young Link reached and tugged on his friend’s sleeve, drawing his attention from the Princess and the General. Then, grasping his hand, Young Link looked up to him. 

“We’re almost there,” 

His friend, Link, smiled and nodded curtly. His eyes- no longer hidden from sight or blurred- glinted with a strange light and Young Link found he didn’t like it. 

He was far too confident. Far too sure now that he wielded the Master Sword. 

“Cia’s house...” He murmured. 

Once, Young Link celebrated and reveled in the rare moments his friend would speak for himself rather than through his fairy, but now...

He wished Proxi had spoken instead. 

~~~~

“There it is,” 

It was Warrior’s solemn voice that brought Time back to the present. His brow creased from the fickle memory that had come unwarranted to him. He wasn’t sure what had triggered it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this road they had taken was known to him. 

The Links took in the sight before them. 

The dark, foreboding Fortress Warrior knew they would have to seek shelter in for the night loomed in the distance. Time wandered closer to where Twilight and Warrior stood on the edge of a cliff. The instant his gaze fell on the building, Time knew where they were before Warrior told them. 

“Cia’s House,” 

The aloof tone unsettled the Links and they discreetly shot looks of concern towards Warrior. From the guarded look on his face, they knew he had some kind of history with this grand and eerie place. 

And not a good one. 

Legend thought he sensed dark magic poisoning the air and the ground and wondered at it. Warrior was strongly opposed to magic- especially dark magic. Had something happened here that served to influence the fierce hatred he bore against it? 

Time frowned deeply. 

Cia’s House...The place from his memory. He’d been here once before. But when? How? Why couldn’t he remember? 

He looked long and hard at the structure as if it held all of the answers he sought. For some reason, he felt a stirring of anger, an odd coiling of fear, and fierce protection well up inside of him. 

Protect...

Protect.

Protect! 

Time winced when the word thundered in his mind, ricocheting off the walls and fading into nothingness. 

Protect? 

Protect what? Who?

A hand settled on his arm and Time turned to find Wild worriedly peerkng at him from beneath his hood. 

“You doing alright, Pops?” He asked upon recognizing the pain and confusion minutely distorting the older Hero’s features. 

“I...yes,” Time nodded slowly, a strong hand giving Wild a couple reassuring pats on his shoulder. 

Wild clearly didn’t believe him but he knew better than to press. Something was frustrating Time yet the teen couldn’t tell what. He’d been watching the Old Man closely. Lately, he’d been absentminded and earlier, when they first started down the path after Warrior, he’d withdrawn into himself, eyes far away and mind distant. 

It was as if he was recalling something- a faint memory of sorts. Wild knew that look well. He’d worn it more times than he cared to count. 

“Look after Warrior,” 

“Huh?” Wild blinked at the sudden words. Time didn’t appear to realize he’d spoken at all, instead starting forward and following the group down the cliffside to Cia’s House. “Look after Warrior..?” He repeated, bewildered. He scratched the back of his head and shrugged to himself. 

Warrior had been acting odd. Perhaps Time was concerned for him? 

~~~~

It was General Impa’s gruff cry that alerted Young Link to the fact that something was severely wrong. The genuine worry she didn’t bother to hide alarmed the small hero. 

“Link, wait- that idiot!” She tripled her efforts, her large, sharp blade viciously swiping enemies and sending them sailing in all directions. 

A sharp pang of pure, unadulterated fear raced through Young Link’s veins. His friend had run on ahead, just as he’d suspected he would do. 

The Dragon Knight Volga slammed his weapon into the ground, flames encompassing his form as fury tinged with concern distorted his masked features. He scowled, fangs flashing in the light, 

“That boy is going to get himself killed!” 

Young Link snapped his head toward the displeased Dragon Knight, eyes wide with unrestrained worry. 

Without waiting for Volga, Young Link shot off, a trail of destruction left in his wake.

“I have to find him!” 

The urge to use the Fierce Deity Mask festered within the young hero, but he valiantly quashed it. He effortlessly destroyed any enemies that got in his way- the need to make sure his friend was safe and sound feeding this newly found strength and sudden rush of adrenaline that kept his legs pumping. 

A burst of hot air slammed into his back and past him as Volga sprinted along side him, 

“You are just as reckless,” Came his guttural growl, flames brilliantly bright. 

“Link is surrounded!” Came the Princess’s powerful, reverberating, voice, and another blast of sheer terror stole Young Link’s very breath away, “There are Dark Links appearing everywhere!”

Young Link willed himself to go faster. Dark Links? As in plural? His friend had no experience facing an evil incarnation of himself! How could he face more than one? 

He desperately clung to the hope he would reach him in time. 

~~~~

When Time next stirred, it was a handful of hours before dawn. Heaving a quiet sigh, the oldest Hero drew himself up into a sitting position and turned his head to appraise the slumbering Links around him. 

Wind was curled into a tight ball underneath his blanket, Four calmly sleeping nearest him with his hands folded on his chest. Hyrule had one arm and leg cast out from underneath his thick cloak, and his head pillowed on his left arm. 

Twilight and Wild were back-to-back, the former of the Heroes having chosen not to transform for the night. They slept near identical to one another, with an arm curled beneath their heads and cushioning them from the unforgiving, stone, ground and blankets drawn past their shoulders. 

Sky was a mess of sprawled limbs. Time huffed out a quiet laugh at the ungainly sight. For such an amiable, kindhearted, and soft-spoken hero, Sky moved an unbelievable amount during the night and often awoke with his arms and legs haphazardly thrown here and there. 

Legend was lying on his stomach, his pack shoved underneath his head and an arm bent close to his face. His face was smoothed over in his sleep, the typical scowl and moody furrow creasing his brow absent. He looked young, untroubled, and unburdened. Sorrow tugged at Time’s heart. He knew Legend had experienced much- more than most of the others combined and he wondered why the Goddess had chosen to send him on one adventure after another. 

Yet, Time also held admiration and respect for the teen. Despite everything he’d gone through, Legend still persevered and pressed on. He had become almost detached to life and did his best to avoid making connections, but little by little, he was starting to open up and establish a strong, unbreakable, bond with the rag-tag group of wayward Heroes. 

A troubled frown pulled at Time’s lips. What would happen after this adventure was over? What would become of the Heroes? Would they still be able to contact one another? Or would they never see one another again, left only with memories they would forever treasure and cherish? 

He stubbornly silenced the thoughts in his mind and looked to the Knight still on watch...

Only to find Warrior gone. 

Time stiffened and turned every-which-way in search of the Captain. 

He was nowhere to be found. 

The Old Man stood immediately, ensuring the make-shift campsite was secure before heading off to find the missing Link. Where could he have gone? Why had he abandoned his post? It was unlike Warrior to do so. Even if he went to investigate something, Warrior knew better than to go alone. 

What had prompted him to leave on his own without waking one of his companions? 

Time didn’t know but he was going to find out. 

He left the campsite and turned down the vast corridor towards the main room of Cia’s House. His feet moved instinctively, knowing exactly where they would find the Knight. 

It might have been ages ago, but he still remembered...

Brief flashes and blurred images flickered across his mind the deeper into the House he went, and Time realized he did know where he was heading. 

He’d been here before...

Long ago. 

In a time long forgotten and newly remembered. 

~~~~

“He’s in trouble!” Young Link cried, bolting down the corridors and racing towards where his friend was trapped. 

Volga chased after him. They were joined by a determined Ruto and seething Midna, both racing to reach Link before anything ill befell him. 

“He’s more of an idiot than my idiot,” He barely overheard Midna hissing in displeasure.

“We can lecture him later,” Ruto peacefully intervened before the Twili could continue, “Right now, we have to reach him before the Dark Links do!” 

~~~~

Time’s lips curled back in a grimace at the paintings decorating the walls. He certainly did not miss the sight of those. 

The Sorceress had been wholly and utterly obsessed with the Bearer of the Triforce of Courage. It was disturbing. 

The Hero of Time continued on his short trek through Cia’s House, slowing to a stop almost instinctively when he reached the room he dreaded to see. 

~~~~

Young Link couldn’t describe the onslaught of emotions and feelings that took him captive when he skidded around the corner to find his friend surrounded by Dark Links. 

His heart leaped into his throat and his eyes went impossibly wide with terror when they lunged at him simultaneously. 

“NO!” The desperate, heart-rending cry ripped from his throat. 

“You IDIOT!” Midna practically screeched. 

“LINK!” 

“We won’t reach him in time-”  It was the Dragon Knight’s terse declaration that shattered Young Link’s world completely and made him understand. 

They had arrived too late. 

~~~~

Time peered into the vast chamber he knew Warrior would be in. 

The Knight stood only a few feet inside, not daring to move any further. His face was a blank canvas, carefully shielded, and eyes dark and stormy as he recalled those terrible days. 

He was silent. Grave and solemn. 

It was a sight Time had never before seen. Not with Warrior. 

He was small. Insignificant compared to the expansiveness of the room they were in. 

“I almost died here...” 

Warrior’s voice was quiet. Steady and collected but his tone shook with an unknown emotion. He swallowed thickly, a fist pressed to his chest. 

“I thought I would...”  

- The unbridled fear. The widening of cobalt blues, swimming with undiluted terror and horrified understanding- 

The Old Man was reminded of a time not too long ago in which Sky allowed Hyrule to wield the Master Sword. The words Warrior had stated so simply and nonchalantly back then lingered in the back of his mind, troubling the Hero...

~~~~~

“Just a beauty, isn’t she?” Warrior remarked as the Links watched Hyrule admire the Master Sword he held in his hands. The beauty and craftsmanship took him aback. They could recognize the awe and wonderment in his dark eyes. 

“I’m at a loss for words,” Hyrule admitted in a respectful whisper, a smile splitting his lips as he pointed the Master Sword forward. She moved with such grace and elegance. A fine blade. No other could hope to surpass her. 

“With that blade, you feel invincible,” Warrior said, wagging a finger in Hyrule’s direction. Twilight’s gaze flicked to him, a slight frown on his face, 

“That’s a dangerous way of thinking,” The Ordonian remarked, voicing Time’s thoughts aloud. 

Warrior said nothing to defend himself. 

“Almost cost me my life,” 

~~~~

“You were reckless,” Time’s low voice quietly broke the silence encompassing the room. 

Warrior didn’t startle. He’d likely sensed Time’s presence before the Hylian had spoken. A self-deprecating laugh fleetly followed. 

“I was overconfident,” The Knight agreed, lowering his head with shame, “If it hadn’t been for the others...For Lana...I wouldn’t be here.” 

Time moved swiftly, coming to stand beside Warrior. 

“Sometimes, I wonder what might have happened,” Warrior continued, lifting his gaze and staring ahead, unable to look Time in the eye, “If I had fallen- if Lana had been a second late and the Darks succeeded... what would have become of Hyrule if I had failed?” 

Time shook his head with a stern frown, grasping Warrior’s shoulder gently but firmly, 

“No one can give you an answer to that, Warrior. There is no way to know and you will never find out. Dwelling on what-ifs is a wasteful endeavor- and one that does more harm than good. Because of Lana, because of your friends and allies, you still live. You are still here.” 

“And for that, I am forever grateful,” Warrior earnestly told Time, clenching his fists, “But that doesn’t change the fact that because of my foolishness and pride, my overconfidence, I could have cost Hyrule everything.” 

Time hummed, “That is a possibility, but that is all it is- a possibility. There are things all of us wish we can go back, erase, and start anew,” The Hero smiled wanly, “But if it weren’t for those experiences, for the lessons we learned, or the struggles we underwent, none of us would be where we are now. There are regrets. There will always be lingering regrets we will never truly rid ourselves of...” Time knew this well. It was and always would be the harsh reality, “You have learned and grown since then, Warrior, and have taken to teaching the others what you yourself have learned.” 

Now Time felt he had an understanding of Warrior. 

“Almost cost me my life,” 

The simple statement that had bugged Time for months now made more sense. He was issuing a warning. It was subtle but it was there. He was telling the others not to allow the power of the Master Sword to go to their heads. He was making sure none of them would take the Blade of Evil’s Bane for granted. A lesson he had learned and taken to heart. 

“I suppose,” Warrior conceded with a slight nod. 

Time appraised him somberly. 

“Forgiving one’s self is the most difficult and arduous task we will all experience in our lifetime,” He squeezed Warrior’s shoulder, “Some will succeed and some will not, but, Warrior, though it may amount to nothing, I never held it against you. Nor did any of the others.” 

Warrior’s head snapped up at record speed. For a second, Time believed he might have given himself whiplash. Stunned cobalt blues bored into Time’s own, confusion mingled with a faint trace of hope easily recognizable. 

“You..?” 

Time released another warm laugh, “I thought I recognized you from somewhere,” He told the Captain, “But for the life of me, I could never pinpoint from where or when. During the past few days, I started to remember. That little boy in green you met on the battlefield? The one wielding the biggoron sword?”

Why on Hylia’s green earth Time had chosen to use that blade was still beyond him. It had been far too big for him then.  

Warrior could have choked, “That was you?!” Then his expression brightened and a brilliant, beaming, smile broke out. It was a most welcome sight for Time to see. The genuine happiness, shock, and relief Warrior sported meant more than the Captain would ever know, “Of course it was you! I thought- I couldn’t bring myself to believe it-” He trailed off, raking his fingers through his hair as he attempted to wrap his mind around this unexpected revelation, “The Ocarina was a dead give away but I thought it was mere coincidence you had one.” 

“That was the first time I heard your voice,” Time found himself saying. Warrior chuckled faintly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I can’t believe it...” Still, the smile never left Warrior’s face. “It was you all along.” 

“You would think the title The Hero of Time would have given it away,” Time mused, a hint of teasing in his tone. 

Warrior turned red and floundered pathetically, “Yes- well- I-um...” He deflated, grumbling moodily, “There is nothing I can say in my defense.” 

Time ruffled his hair. Then, without warning, he cuffed the back of Warrior’s head. The Knight cried out indignantly, leaning away from Time and shooting him a mild glare, 

“What was that for?!” 

The Knight rubbed at his head with one eye squeezed shut and the other locked on the Old Man.

“That was for being an idiot,” Time promptly answered, “I was too short to knock you on your head last time.” 

And too relieved.

But as Time listened to Warrior’s unrestrained, if a bit embarrassed, laughter and shaky apologies, the Old Man knew deep down in his heart, that he would have done anything to safeguard the Captain. He would have given anything if it meant saving Warrior.

~~~~

The instant Lana’s barrier fell and the Darks were taken care of, Young Link dropped everything he held and spun around to throw himself at his friend. His poor, frantically beating heat did not slow, unable to handle the terrible scare it had suffered. 

His friend crashed to his knees, catching him in his strong arms and crushing him close. Young Link threw his own around his neck, clutching tightly and he screwed his burning eyes shut against the tears gathering within them. 

Both refused to let one another go. 

Young Link feared if he did, his friend would disappear. What had nearly happened, the close call his friend had experienced, did not release its hold on him. He’d almost lost his dear friend. He’d almost borne witness to his gruesome demise. 

If they had been a millisecond too late...

His small body trembled and Young Link realized his dear friend, Link, was also shaking. His breathing was uneven and hitched every now and then and the boy in green understood his friend was only now realizing what the true cost of his pride and overconfidence could have been. 

“Don’t ever do that again!” Young Link fiercely whispered in one pointed ear, tightening his hold. He might be choking his friend, but he was too relieved to care at the moment. “Ever! I thought-” His voice caught on a sob, droplets of silver rain falling free, “I thought I was going to l-lose you!” 

The blue-scarfed Hero exhaled shakily, burying his face in his hair and murmuring tremulously, 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” 

His hands trembled violently, his body quaking and Young Link pulled back to give his friend a wobbly smile. 

“Don’t be,” He hiccuped, dragging his arm across his eyes and meeting his dear friend’s watery gaze. There was deep regret, heart rending remorse, and unfathomable guilt swimming in them and he shook his head, “I’m just...happy you’re still here.” 

He was given a similar, shaky, smile, 

“Me too.” 

~~~~

[obaby-me]

Ok how about this, all of the brothers (or Belphie if you can't) reacting to an m/c who died and became a very angry ghost

This was so hard. You gave me an out, and I instead took that as a challenge.  And a helluva fuckin’ challenge it was.

I thought it’d be pretty repetitive if the MC died the same way each time, or haunted each person in the same way.  So I tried to give a variety of scenarios for what an “angry ghost” might do.  Haunt a specific person, haunt a place, and different ways to haunt someone.  Hopefully you at least find it interesting.

Lucifer

You’re screaming.  You’re sobbing.  It’s an echo down the halls, a reminder of his guilt:  Why?

Why wasn’t he there? Why did he let this happen?  Why did it have to be you?

Why, why, why?

Lucifer knows why.

Because he’d scoffed at your warnings.

Because he wouldn’t even consider that anything could happen.  

Because you were his.

And he was Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride.  The first of the seven lords.  None would oppose him.  None would dare.  He so adamantly believed so.

He should have been more careful.  He should have listened.  He should have been there.

He’ll shoulder the burden, just as he has with Lilith.  But there was a small saving grace for his sister.  

There was none for you. And you were resentful, and unforgiving. And you had every right to be.

So, he’ll bear this punishment; he’ll listen to every scream, and he’ll take every hit—because he knows this is what he deserves.  He failed you, and he’s willing to pay for it.

If there’s even a modicum of hope to give you a chance at peace in the afterlife, he’ll do all he can to give it to you.  It’s the least he can do.

Mammon

It hadn’t been anything to do with you.  It shouldn’t have involved you in any way shape or form.  You were an innocent bystander in a dispute between himself and a loan shark.

He was scum, everyone said so.  You’d never thought so.  You defended him when no one else would.

But in your death, he’d proved himself scum.  Proved to you they were right.

It was his fault.  All his fault.  If he could be anything else other than greed incarnate, this wouldn’t have happened.  If he’d never gambled himself away.  If he hadn’t taken that loan.  If he hadn’t then ignored that loan.

If he hadn’t, if he hadn’t, if he hadn’t.  If, if, if.

You’re watching him constantly.  Empty eyes boring holes in him, following him, judging him.  You say nothing, but you communicate to him just fine just how much you hate him.  Just how much you loathe him.  Just as he deserves to be.

Despite the guilt he feels with your presence, despite the way his skin crawls when he sees you hovering around him, he doesn’t want you to leave.  It’s sick, in a way.  But it’s still you after all.  And seeing you is a reminder of what was, what could have been.  And he holds on to that, clings to it.

He hasn’t got anything else.

Leviathan

Levi’s use to being alone. But somehow, it’s lonelier now than it’s ever been before.

There’s a void in him he can’t fill.  No game, no concert, no show, no manga ebbs the pain—the clench in his chest.

For once the excitable avatar is quiet, every so often, quiet sobs choking him until his ducts can’t produce much else.  While he’s always been terrible eating, now it’s nearly non-existent.  It’s only when his brothers demand and watch him eat that he manages to get anything down.

He spends most of him time lying in bed, sleeping because at least then he doesn’t have to feel it anymore.

Yet, there’s no real safety in sleep.  You torment him.  You’re shouting most of the time, though he never understands what you say.  But he doesn’t need to.  He knows what he is.  He knows what he’s failed to do.  He knows you know it too.

Sometimes you only sob, frustration welling up in your eyes, brows knit.  You don’t bother to look at him.  And he thinks that that’s worse than when you’re screaming.

If he could save you, spare you from this, stop your tears, make it so you stopped harboring so much hate, he’d do it in a flash.

He just hasn’t the first clue as to how.

Satan

His brothers are terribly concerned.  There’s been an unusual increase of outbursts, violent and unreasonable. They’ve no idea what has come over him.

None know but him.

You’re uncontrollable, you’re inconsolable, you’re furious—and there’s no one who understands that feeling better than Satan himself.

What they’d done to you was unforgivable.  The way he’d found you, unrecognizable as the bright beacon he’d known you to be, lifeless there on the floor—the rage he felt, indescribable.

You’d always been his much-needed balm.  The one to soothe him, calm his temper, end his tantrums.  All that yet remains of you is your fury, too stubborn to let go.

And now?  Now you were fuel to his fire.  Now you encouraged him to lose himself into his anger.  You whisper into his ears—dark encouragements to indulge in.

He can resist you only for so long before you become demanding.  He’ll appease you with whatever you suggest, letting go and wreaking havoc.  But never enough to satisfy you.  He makes sure to reign it just enough.

You can’t leave him alone again.  He misses you.  He misses you terribly.  But you haven’t left him yet—you’re still here, so long as he holds on, so long as he rages, you’ll be here.

 Asmodeus

Asmo visits the same alley every day.  He brings a flower or two, sometimes a whole bouquet.  It really depends on what the florist has—and he’s sure to bring the best.

It’s dark and it’s damp, and it’s cold and it smells.  It sinks the reality of the horror you must have experienced here deep into his skin; crying out for help, left for dead on the pavement.

Just around the corner used to be a nightclub, one of the liveliest around.  Demons would line up, right down into this very alley for a chance to get in there.

But the club’s since closed down.  Occupied by just one.

Occasionally he’ll see a curious demon or two camped out inside the building, wondering if the rumors are true that a human haunt its walls.

You tend to verify it quickly.  Violently. Sometimes they make it out without injury to more than their pride.  Other times they’re lucky to be alive.

While Asmo doesn’t camp in, he does come to greet you at least once a day.

Sometimes you recognize him. You’re even happy to see him on some days.  Asmo loves those days.  He comes just for those chances, those moments.  He holds on to those and stays for as long as you can hold your sense of self.

But it’s never for very long.

He has to leave quickly. Abandoned remnants of the club become weapons—chairs, tables, shards of broken bottles and windows.

You screech obscenities, you threaten death.  Your form contorts warped by your hatred.  Crawling, oozing, reliving that night where you cried for help, dragging yourself out of the club in attempt to find safety.

You suffer terribly and Asmo wishes desperately to relieve you of it.  But you remember so little, and he has so few leads.

An entire club full of people and not a one remembers a thing—or doesn’t wish to say if they do. But one day he will.  One day you’ll be freed of this.  This he swears.

 Beelzebub

Every week, on routine, Beel goes for a run.  He runs mile after mile until he reaches the fields on the outskirts of the devildom where you were last seen alive.

At 6:57PM exactly, you flicker into existence and he watches as you float on a pre-determined path. You look as if you’re being carried by your arms, and you head moves wildly from side to side, eyes staring into air, but seeing something that causes you fear.  He can see your mouth moving, he knows you’re screaming.  You’re begging.  You’re pleading.

You’re thrown to the ground and you flicker out.  It’s a scene you play out, every week, on time, without fail.  You’re carried away, and thrown to the ground.  These are the final moments of your death.  They’re the only hint he has to know what has happened to you.  

You’ll be back again soon; he only has to wait.  You’re being dragged this time, but to where he has yet to determine.  He has to be quick.  He has to be quiet.  You can’t be alerted or you’ll break from the scene.

But he’s never been able to follow you yet.  There’s always something that interferes.  A branch out of place, an animal that rushes past, another demon camping out nearby.

And then his only lead he has disappears, only to be replaced by a nightmare instead.

The image of your battered, decomposing body rising to confront the distraction, as you screech and wail. You’re terrifying to see, to hear, but the worst is the way you latch on and thrash about, with a strength that tosses even the heaviest set demons to the ground.

It’s a heart wrenching experience every time to see you this way.  It breaks him down, piece by piece; emotionally, physically.  His meals have halved, and his workouts decreased.  He cries more than he sleeps, and he does so little of both these days.

But he comes back every week.  He comes back to try again.  He has to. Your body is out there, somewhere, waiting to be found.

He couldn’t save you then.

But maybe he could save you now.

 Belphegor

The avatar of sleep ironically gets very little these days.  He struggles to stay awake, knowing that the second he falls asleep, he’ll be reliving the nightmare.  Your pleas, your scream, your gasps for air, and that gargle of blood that choked you.

He’s terrified to sleep. And even more terrified of waking up.

When he wakes, he knows you’ll be there.  Hovering just above him, pinning him down with a strength born of your malice.  The lethargic demon who never would want to move now praying he could, but the paralysis you impose would never let him.

You wanted him to see. To remember.

You’ll replay your grief for him, re-enacting your death for him, wailing and begging the way you had in your final moments before quickly fading.  The sleep he used to love you’ve warped into his greatest fear.

Nodding off feels dangerous. Like you’re waiting at the edge of his consciousness for him to drop.

The guilt of what happened was overwhelming, but the exhaustion even more so.

He’ll do anything to make it stop.  If only he had any strength to do so.

[seafleece]

sand plucked from the sea, or: five times the divine belgard considered her place in the universe and one time she did not

i.

“I wish I had known. What it was. I should have known.”

“Would you have said yes?”

Belgard does not whisper. Can’t. There’s no cause for it, no medium.

“I don't know,” Belgard whispers.

The empty body of Empyrean stands, wings dropped. Head fierce and tall against the awful light and dark of Volition.

Belgard is quiet. There’s this faint, but repeated pull at her, like the tide— she wants Signet to return. Wants to think about anything other than that she looked like this, once.

“Can you carry them?”

—

ii.

“Can you open the Exuvia?”

It’s a bad day. The latest in a series. Belgard’s cables lace over her suit instead of where it ends, where the sleeves of it don’t quite meet her shoes. It’s too much to touch, to feel, to be felt.

She opens an eye. It’s crawling along the floor, miles away. On days where her hands would be wrapped proper in the sashes, she’d let herself drop, fall and fall until the cold panels of the bottom of Belgard rushed to meet her and catch firm, swaying. Reach down a hand and snag it, and ascend again, like something arboreal.

But the swing she’s cradled in isn’t fashioned from her own twisting, it’s Belgard knotting herself together under Signet, holding her aloft. She doesn’t even rock.

She tugs, downward, and Belgard lowers her.

The Exuvia goes still in her hands, like it knows crawling would make her drop it again.

“Here,” Belgard tilts Signet in her swing until she’s mostly horizontal, still curled in on herself like an oyster around grit, no pearl in sight.

“I don’t— I don’t know how to tell you about them yet.”

“I know. I thought I would read to you instead.”

The wings of the Exuvia flare out and close again.

—

iii.

“Signet,” Belgard says, “Signet, Signet.” She sounds like she’s smiling, but she should be crying.

Signet scrabbles at the straps around her wrists. “No.”

“You know it already.”

“Don’t.” She can’t say it. In the air, even between them, it will exist, and the truth of it is so compelling and awful she can’t bear it.

“Such a beautiful passage. My favorite, I think.”

The Assemblage is so long that a favorite passage is meaningless. She knows it, and Belgard knows it. To pick one and hold it above the rest is like emerging with a single grain from the ocean floor. Beautiful, maybe, in the sunlight, but what makes it separate from the others is only that it happens to be in your palm. That, rather than sweeping your hands through the rest of the ocean, you’d leave that one there instead. To make it yours, and give it you. To forgo.

A Divine is for people. Not a person. Belgard telling her that she is Signet’s is saying the worst thing there is to say. That she’s done.

There's a plate on Belgard’s wing that’s shaking loose. Big enough to enclose her, carry her to safety.

“Please.” She reaches out, desperate, buries her hands in two straps, then four, ten, like gathering up a kelp forest. All of them wind around her, enclosing her.

Belgard’s entire body rattles with the force of another explosion, but in the open space of her cockpit she keeps Signet still. Screens open in the corners of Signet’s vision like compound eyes— first, who it is that needs healing, then their middle name, their favorite color. All of the things they can continue to be, if Belgard stops being.

Belgard holds her for a second, and another, and another.

Then, she lets go.

—

iv.

“Hello, Belgard.”

“On the shore the seas gathered themselves like gifts, folded lines like petals unfurling under newest light. How are you?”

They laugh. It sounds like crumpling paper.

“Not so bad. Did you get to meet them?”

“They were busy with rites, the keeper told me. I think they are nervous to see me.”

Shore waves a hand, drawn with age and shaking. “Don’t worry. They’re a good egg. They just want to get it right the first time.”

Belgard doesn’t have eyes to close. Instead she simply tries to picture fewer things, and sticks on the roll in Shore’s shoulders as they laugh quietly. “They’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“That if things were right the first time, we would not be part of the fleet. Yes.” She lights up her panels to prove she gets the joke, even if Shore can’t see them.

She can tell when they look at her again, a fierce and fixing thing unmitigated by their position. She wants to spread her wings and unpin herself from it, feel her Excerpt weaving the two of them out and away from Thyrsus. But Shore is here, and dying, and so she has nowhere to go.

“You’re going to be okay.”

She says nothing.

“Belgard.”

“On the shore the seas gathered themselves like gifts, folded lines like petals unfurling under newest light.”

It’s a beautiful passage. She wonders if Shore can tell she is afraid of when she can no longer say it.

“You talk through it, okay? When it feels like the world should have stopped with you. You explain why you can’t do the things you need to, and one day you find you can.”

“Shore.”

“They’re going to pick Meadow, at the ceremony. They asked me what passage was your favorite and I didn't tell them it was mine. Because it isn’t. Don’t let it be.”

“Shore.” Belgard has no function resembling tears. Her panels, unseen, flare with frustration instead.

“You have to love them, too. Not because they’re the next me, but because they’re someone else.”

She’s a large being, enough to cover Shore a hundred times over. The love for them feels like it spills out of her already.

—

v.

She feels the moment Signet starts to go slack. The Exuvia clips its shell into a single golden dome again.

Belgard has never written for the Assemblage. The few left to tell stories had no time to read them, and then there were none.

She thinks about breaking rocks into sand and scattering them into the sea. Her hands are shaped like hands by coincidence more than anything else— they’re erosion incarnate, even so.

The singular grain that is Signet goes fully limp in her cables and Belgard wants to be smaller so she can press against her contours.

She carried Empyrean’s body home after they fled it. Signet brought the unrecognizable threads of them to her and they wanted her to inhabit her shell again for the shell’s sake, not the ocean. They begged her to keep the sand in her fists, and Signet is safe, quiet and asleep and here, because she held on. First to Signet, and then to herself.

In the dark, the Divine Belgard holds her grain of sand and thinks on becoming an oyster instead.

—

i.

“They marked scars of light in pitch; born in fiercest purpose, and beheld as the signet sealed upon our pact. You look so beautiful like this.”

Belgard flares all around her and grows dim again in a moment— laughter, surprise, captured as a reflex. The cables around Signet’s arms, her waist, slacken and tighten. Not unsure, but aware.

Signet is content to let that thought sit with her— like she had leaving Polyphony’s city. Something to turn over and over again in her mind like a stone, worried smooth over time and trips across the system and to Thyrsus, to ask for someone who liked to sing.

It is such a different thing, to be alone with them again. They must know, she thinks. Must have felt it from her when they met again, that something they had given her had been so rattling as to stay with her. She looks down at them from where she’s suspended— thinks, actively, about what the places where she and Belgard meet must look like in other eyes— and flushes.

It’s Belgard who speaks instead. “Are you afraid?”

Polyphony laughs. Properly.

“No. I don’t believe it will hurt me.”

Belgard says something else to Polyphony, something about bravery, but Signet doesn’t hear it. A cable curls along her wrist and she wraps her fingers around it.

You are beautiful like this, Signet. If only they could see you when you are even more beautiful, when—

Startled, she falls a bit in the cables and Belgard holds her fast.

Below, Polyphony looks curiously on as Belgard’s panels flare again, another show of mirth.

Belgard’s alive with this infectious sort of curiosity today, buzzing where they meet. She pulls on the cable in her fingers, questioning.

I am interested in who it is that would make you ask to be sung to, Signet. I think I get it, now.

Below, Polyphony gathers their skirts under them and accepts the second swing Belgard offers. The weight sends connected cables bouncing for a moment with momentum, moving Signet about.

Belgard moves every single part of herself with purpose. If cables move towards Polyphony that, at another junction, find Signet, Belgard wants her to feel Polyphony in them.

She grips the strap in her fist and presses her smile to another one, captivated by the quiet brazenness of it all. Belgard hums and they sway again together, lazy and thrilling.

Jealous? she teases.

A single panel lights near Signet’s face. A restrained laugh.

You are a different kind of beautiful when they are near. Call it comparison.

Things grow quiet and tense again as they near Volition, and Belgard doesn’t tease her when she returns alone with Polyphony’s lipstick blooming wistful and faded blue at the corner of her mouth. She merely offers the little cable, unconnected to any controls and empty of data, and Signet holds it fast and presses her mouth there, shaking with things unsaid and trusting she will be held in kind.

[ongaku-ato-kakikomi]

After reading that those breakup senarios for monster prom I was crying 😭 so do you think you could write some getting back together senarios?

(A/N): I’m sorry for making you cry, hun! Here are the getting back together scenarios you asked for (sorry it took me so long, these are very long to write). I hope you and the others will enjoy them!

This is a follow-up of the Breaking Up With Them (Monster Prom Characters)

Miranda Vanderbilt:

Getting you killed for broking her heart was probably Miranda’s greatest regret of all time, leaving her wishing she had spared your life so she could have the chance to see your face from afar. She was missing everything about you: every expression, every tone of voice, every simple touches… In fact, she missed you so much that not a single thing about you ever slipped from her mind, the simple thought of you tearing her insides apart over and over as she internally screamed in agony at your absence.

And it was all her fault.

She needed to see you again, at least one more time. It didn’t matter to her if you would hate her with all of your soul, or even go live your life and be with someone else, all she wanted was for you to just be alive in front of her again… to see you smile one last time.

And to be able to get that miracle she desperately needed more than anything else, she needed to sacrifice at least a hundred of her serfs to an obscure god she learned about from Zoe. She won’t lie to herself, none of them seemed really happy to get slaughtered by her guards in order to get you back to life, but at this point, she didn’t care to even act like it was in their best interest. They’re her serfs, they’re nothing to her.

And you’re her entire world.

While her guards sliced and cut serf after serf, her eyes were locked on your corpse she made them put on the podium earlier, observing every inch of you. She didn’t like to see the state you were now in, the weeks you’ve been dead having rotten your skin to a point where you were almost unrecognizable. But Zoe said it didn’t matter how long it has been, and she believes her. And with a hundred offerings, you better come back looking exactly like you were before dying: Perfect, like a divinity.

“Princess Miranda.” Her attention turns away from you as soon as one of her guards speaks up, her eyes settling on him. “The last serf has been killed.”

“It’s only a matter of time, now.”

Dark fumes suddenly both engulf you and her, everything turning dark only to reveal a giant and monstrous form grinning in the blackness.

“Miranda Vanderbilt.” His low voice makes her question her action, fear slowly rising in her soul. “Thank you for your generous offer… here’s the price you’ve wanted in return.”

A bright light emanates from your body when his black finger touches it, blinding her so much that she has to hide her eyes with her arms.

“Princess Miranda!”

Her guards’ voices bring her back to reality, and she blinks a couple times to adjust her vision as she frees her face from her arms. When she looks back at you, she feels her heartbeat stop in shock, your (e/c) eyes looking back at her in pure confusion.

“… Mir’?”

“Oh, my dear (Y/N)!” She throws her arms around you in a desperate manner, her tears already flowing down her cheeks and unto your shoulder. “I am so delighted to see that you’re back with us, love!”

“But… you killed me…”

She tenses up from your words, the memory of the spear getting through your body flashing in her thoughts.

“Ah…” She frees you from her embrace, her eyes looking down at your lap to avoid looking at your expression. “I’m deeply sorry for that, dear… I acted without thinking and, well… There’s no excuse for it, so I would understand if you despised me now…”

She wipes away a tear from her eye, your silence only answering her words for a while.

“Well…” A rush runs through her spine when your fingers touch her cheek, making turn her head towards yours so she could your smile. “I forgive you, Mir’.”

Her heart melts like a burning candle when your lips capture hers in a small moment, her whole body having craving this kind of touch for a long time now. More tears follow the path of her skin when she realizes that you’re not holding any grudge against her, a few sobs escaping her throat when you part away.

“Oh, Miranda… why are you crying?”

“I thought… you said…” She shakes her head to try and reassembles her thoughts. “You said you wished to leave me…”

“Ah, yes, but…  you see, being dead kind of gives you a whole new perspective on things.” You give out a sweet smile, giving her lips a small peck. “For example… leaving you would be a huge mistake since you’re the origin of my happiness.”

She couldn’t have been happier in that moment. Because not only did she managed to get you back to life, but you were also back to be hers.

And that is the greatest gift she could ever ask for.

Damien LaVey:

He hated this.

He hated how you were standing there by your locker, smiling and laughing with one of those stupid monsters he didn’t even know the name of, while he was simply here, constantly feeling overly angry and lonely since you left him

He really fucking hated this.

Why couldn’t you be happy and stay with him? Why did you say being with him was draining you from any happiness you had left when it was when you were with him that you were the happiest? Why did you think it was his fault that you were feeling numb? Why didn’t you tell him anything-

“Damien.” He comes back to reality when Vera snaps her fingers in his face, the gorgon clearly being annoyed. “Do I need to remind you that it’s primordial for you to listen to me? This heist could be disastrous if you don’t.”

“Yeah, the heist, yeah…” His tries to not let his eyes look back at you giggling at what that other stupid monster just said, but he’s unsuccessful at doing so. “I hear you.”

Vera quirks an eyebrow and looks in the direction he’s looking at, only to roll her eyes upon seeing you.

“Are you regretting not killing her or something?”

Damien groans, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans his shoulder against one of the lockers. “I regret letting her go.”

“Then go get her back, you idiot.”

He gives her a surprised look. “Huh?”

“I suggest you do it soon, or else that monster over there’s gonna beat you to the chase.”

He looks back to where you’re standing to see you slightly push your friend’s shoulder in a playful way, your laughter echoing in the hallway because of one of the monster’s joke. A flash of hatred burn in his eyes when he sees the dummy subtly getting closer to you, and Vera smirks proudly when she sees his expression.

“Show him his place.”

Damien unconsciously cracks his knuckles, preparing his fists for a future impact as his own lips stretch out in an evil grin. “With pleasure.”

He hits the space between you and your friend with his fist as soon as he arrives, leaving a deep mark on the metal of the locker. You give him a shocked look at first, then sigh in annoyance when he stares at your friend like he’s going to twist his head off his body in a few seconds.

“Leave.”

Despite being terrified of dying, your friend gives you a small look over Damien’s shoulder. “B-but-”

“I said leave!”

He doesn’t wait for the demon prince to add anything else as he runs away without looking back, leaving Damien turning to your annoyed face.

“That was my friend you just scared off.”

“Your friend was about to kiss you.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him while taking some books out of your locker. “And why should you care?”

He grins at your question. “Because you’re mine.”

You close your locker, holding your books closer to you as you look back at him.

“That’s funny, I thought we broke up.”

“And I’ve decided that we were back together.”

You give out a chuckle. “You do realize you can’t force me to do that, right?”

“I’m going to be the King of Hell, I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“Hm…” You approach his face to yours, his breath getting caught in his throat in hope. “… but you’re not the King of Hell yet.”

You playfully tap his cheek with your free hand before walking past him, letting out a surprised yelp and accidentally dropping your books when he suddenly grabs your arm. You look back at him, a little frustrated, but your words disappear from your mind once you see the pain in his eyes.

“Please.” He moves his fingers down your arm to finally hold your hand with his, his claws almost digging inside your skin in desperation. “Please come back.”

Your expression soothes down to a sweet one, your eyes full of sadness.

“Even after I hurt you, you still want me to be a part of your life?”

“I don’t want it, I fucking need it, okay?” His words contrast with the fact that he gently puts his lips on your fingers, not wanting to let go of your hand as he gives out a sad chuckle. “I fucking hate that I need you and you don’t. I know you don’t love me, but I wish you could just for one more minute.”

“I do love you, Damien.” The world stops around him, and he stares at you in disbelief. “I was unhappy, I still am a little, but it has never been because of you.”

He blinks a couple of times while processing what you just said, then he frowns in what seems to be anger or frustration. “Why the fuck did you lie to me then? Why the fuck did you hurt me?”

“I…” You sigh, looking down at your hand still trapped between his. “My feelings were so… dark. It was slowly killing me and I was scared of dragging you down with me if I stayed with you. So I lied because I knew that with the real reason, you wouldn’t have let me go.”

“For fuck sake, of course I wouldn’t have, you idiot.” You’re surprised when he takes your head between his hands and puts his forehead against yours, his breath feeling shaky against your skin. “Now you better let us get back together so I can help you fight this or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“… okay, okay.” You look into his eyes, your smile slowly becoming bright. “We can go back together.”

You can’t help but giggle when he attacks your face with a huge amount of kisses, his lips against your skin feeling like a thousand tickles.

“You won’t let me go that easily now, will you?”

He ends the attack by giving your lips a small kiss. “Never.”

For a moment, he never thought you’d say it. He never thought you’d let him hold you in his arms again nor he thought he’d get to taste your lips one more time.

But he is so fucking happy that you let him back into your life.

Scott Howl:

Since you left him, Scott’s skills in the football game-play have incredibly deteriorated, making his team lose almost every single match they had against the other schools up, and the practices weren’t any better. No matter how much his coach encouraged him to do better or how his cousins threatened him to stop hanging out if he didn’t stop playing so bad, he just couldn’t get himself to focus on anything. Football didn’t matter to him, and if he ever had any interest in any school subject, he definitely didn’t have any at all now.

All he wanted was you.

And therefore that’s all he could think about.

It hurt to not have you by his side, constantly. How could he stay the same when every inch of his mind and body kept screaming in agony, begging the universe that you would come back to him?

He couldn’t play because you weren’t there to cheer for him, he couldn’t study because you weren’t there help him with his homework and he couldn’t breathe because you weren’t there to hold him.

He couldn’t live without you.

And you noticed it.

It made you so worried about him. You almost regretted lying to him when you break up seeing how much you hurt. But it was to save him from yourself, it had to be done.

But one day, when you see his dull eyes looking down at the floor has you pass by him, the boy no longer looking up at you with a little hope like he used to do, you couldn’t stop yourself from talking to him.

“Scott.” Your voice makes every one of his bones respond to it from memory, his eyes finally looking back into your (e/c) ones. “Are you okay?”

“I miss you.” His words pierce right through your chest, your heart begging you to run over to him. “I miss you so much, (Y/N).”

You made a mistake. That’s the first thing that goes through your head after hearing him. Maybe you shouldn’t have broken up with him, even if it was to save him from your own dark feelings. You loved him so much, but you haven’t noticed how much he loved you back too. And god, he wouldn’t be so heartbroken if you had just told him the truth, wouldn’t be?

“Hey.” You give him a sad smile. “You have a football match tonight, right?”

“Yeah…” He looks back down at the floor, his foot kicking a ball of paper away from him. “But what’s the point in it, anyway? I’ll just lose it again and get kicked off the team.”

You really did a mistake.

“What if we made a deal?”

His head perks up when he hears you say that. “What kind of deal?”

“Well, if you win this match…” Your smile turns to a sweet one as you tilt your head at him. “… we can go back together.”

You’ve never seen his eyes light up so bright and so quickly, a huge grin breaking out of his lips while grabs your shoulders in excitement.

“We can?”

You giggle, part of surprise and part of happiness from seeing his. “Yeah… Yeah, we can.”

“Deal!” He crushes into a tight hug, his cheek pressed against yours in a loving way. “I’ll win this match if it’s the last thing I have to do!”

When he frees you to run towards the school’s field so he can practice properly, you can’t help but smile at his leaving form, your heart warming up at the thought of making him happy. Of course, the boy was too excited about having another chance to be yours that he forgot to ask you what would happen if he loses the match, but honestly, it’s not something neither he or you had to worried about…  because he won and crushed the other team completely that night, not only earning back the school’s and his teammates’ respect along with a good pat on the back by his coach, but also you.

He won you back.

When he looks back at you smiling at him beside the bleachers full of monster, he can’t help but worry that this is not what you wanted, that you accidentally trapped yourself in a situation you wouldn’t be if you hadn’t had pity of him and made a deal. Those thoughts made him sad, but he kept on a fake smile for his cousins who were cheering him on, and he kept it when he walked back towards him.

“Hey.” You welcomed him with your usual sweet smile, the one he was craving to see again for so long. “You won.”

“Yeah, I did!” He’s really happy that he finally managed to get back on track, but what about you? “But, (Y/N)… it’s okay if you wanna call of the deal.”

You give him a surprised look. “Really?”

“Yeah, because…” Despite the sadness in his eyes, he manages to give out a smile. “I only want you if you want me too.”

“Scott…” You grab his giant hands with yours, looking up at him with a huge smile. “I love you so much more for saying that.”

His heartbeat tries to get out of his thoracic cage as soon as you say that, his brain reviving with hope.

“You do?”

“I knew you would win the deal, Scott.” You tiptoed in order to be somewhat at his height, giving his nose a quick kiss like you used to do. “I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t.”

You yelp when he suddenly wraps his arms around your form, bringing you up in the air so he can turn around with you in his embrace. You let out a loud laugh along with his, both of you enjoying this happiness running through your veins.

“You’re back! We’re back!” He finally puts back down, but only so he can crash his lips against yours for a small moment before parting away. “I’m so happy!”

And you have no idea how much he is.

Liam de Lioncourt:

Somehow, acting like he didn’t care that you were gone made everything worse. He thought that if he showed that it was something he wanted as much as you, it would make things easier for him, that he’ll be able to move on much quicker, but he was wrong.

He felt like dying all the time.

It didn’t help that he had to be your friend. Sure, he managed to not see you as much with excuses such as secret meetings that didn’t exist or a random art calling that he needed to do alone, but he still had to hang out with you when the group wanted to go out. And that was pure torture because he had to see you smiling and laughing up close, which constantly reminded him that he could no longer be that source of happiness for you.

And that’s not even counting his followers, who have noticed that he deleted all the pictures you were in, and have been harassing him about the situation ever since it happened.

‘Where’s (Y/N)?’, ‘Why did you delete your pictures?’, ‘Have you two broke up?’.

He tried to ignore those comments, but he couldn’t. They were a constant reminder of his failure at loving someone, at loving you, and it kept digging holes in his heart each day.

Of course, they are times that you can’t hang out. No real excuses except for something along the lines of a weekly meeting of some sorts, which kind of reminds him of his own excuses. Only he’s pretty sure your meetings are real, unlike most of his, and you’re doing a pretty good job at hiding what it is.

Until today.

He wasn’t trying to learn anything about you, in fact, he was trying his best to avoid you at all costs. It’s a coincidence that you happen to arrive with another person in the same area as him. I mean, not in the same area, but close enough for him to be able to hear the conversation he didn’t really want to hear. He was about to leave, wanting to have some peace and quiet where he wouldn’t be able to hear you laugh with someone else until he learned what your meeting with this person was about.

It was a meeting for people who are in depression or were in a state of depression, you and the other person having been paired up and meeting each week to talk and listen so you could try and lift each other up. It shocked him to learn that you had been going to those meetings for months, way before you had broke with him, only to try to fix something inside of you and thus without telling him or any of your friends. Why you hadn’t told anyone was beyond him, and he was glad to learn that the other person was agreeing with him.

“You need to tell someone close to you, (Y/N). Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you found help by coming to me, but at some point, you’re gonna need someone you love to be there for you.”

“I don’t want to drag them down with me.”

Your reason made him so worried about you. It suddenly didn’t matter that you shattered his heart into a million pieces. All that matters was that you got better.

“Is that why you broke with Liam? To protect him from your feelings?”

“I didn’t tell him the real reason.” The whole world around him exploded from learning this, his eyes widening in shock. “Trust me, it’s easier that way.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He hasn’t noticed that he had moved to where you and your friend were sitting, your shocked expression now looking back at him in both surprise and fear.

“… Liam?”

“It’s not easier that way.” He sits down beside you just as your friend subtly leaves, letting him take over. “You just end up alone for the wrong reasons and it’s worse than anything else.”

“I-You…” You hide your face with your hands, trying your best to control your breathing so the tears don’t come out. “You weren’t supposed to hear this.”

“But I did.” He takes your hands off your face, his serious expression staring back into your “e/c) ones. “And now you’re gonna listen to me.”

Staring into his yellow eyes calms you down enough to slowly nod, and thus despite the fact that you’re still feeling quite embarrassed and ashamed of yourself.

“You’re not gonna hide this from me anymore. Every time you’re gonna have a bad thought or a bad feeling, you’re gonna tell me about it and I’m gonna help you get through it.” His hands hold yours tighter to support his point, and you think you see a flash of sadness in his yellow eyes. “I don’t care if you think it’s gonna hurt me, you will tell me about it. I have lived for centuries, (Y/N), and I’m telling you, I prefer staying with you so we can help each other enjoy life even in the darker days than being away from you and feeling like dying.”

Your heartbeat gets louder to the point of hurting. “Liam…”

“I love you, okay?” He puts his forehead against yours to give you some comfort. “I love you and I am not going anywhere.”

The tears finally fall down as you try to keep in a sob. “I-I thought you didn’t care. You said-”

“My pride got in the way.” He smiles when you let out a small chuckle, his fingers wiping away a few tears from your cheeks. “Thought, you did hurt me pretty bad.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Everything’s fine now.” He gives your forehead a small kiss, a thing he would have never done in public if it wasn’t for the fact that he loved you so much. “I won’t let you push me away again.”

And you’re not even gonna try, because you love him too much to watch him go a second time.

Polly Geist:

Polly never gave up on bringing you back.

Well, at first, she was utterly devastated. Her heart was broken and crushed at the exact moment you left her, and she tried to forget the pain by partying way more than she already used to do (which, knowing her, is a freaking lot). But then, she thought about your smile, about the way you made her happier than she ever did, and she thought…

… she can’t let you go just like that, can she? That you two had just simply cannot end like that.

And so she had tried to win you back ever since, no matter how much you tried to push her back. Nothing worked on her: not the insults, not the cold demeanor, not the silent treatment, not the threats, not the begging, nothing. No matter what you did, and how extreme you went, she was still there by your side, smiling and bugging you constantly about taking her back. At least for one day.

It was both painful to your heart and also extremely annoying.

“Baaabe.” She pokes your cheek to get your attention away from your book, your eyebrows instantly frowning in annoyance. “Talk to meee.”

“Don’t call me babe.” You hide your face closer to your book, trying to ignore the flash of hurt in her expression that you spotted from the corner of your eye. “We’re not together anymore.”

“But we could be again!” She pushes down your book so she can see your face, her hopeful grin staring back at you and making the guilt grow inside your gut. “What do you say, (Y/N)? For old times sake?”

“Why-” You sigh, trying your best to not explode in anger at her. “Why are you constantly bothering me with this? It’s been weeks, Polly. Move on.”

“I can’t.” She flutters her eyes and accidentally let a few ghostly tears appear in their corners, her grin still somewhat present on her face. “I love you too much to do that.”

“God, Polly-” You make a pause when you feel your heart twist from the guilt, your brain just screaming at you to take her back and hold her. “You’re just hurting yourself that way.”

“No, I’m not.” Her lips stretch out as she looks into your eyes. “You are.”

You quirk an eyebrow in confusion. “What-”

“I know why you broke up with me, (Y/N).” She tilts her head at you, her expression sweetening. “You’re scared of hurting me, right?”

You stare at her in disbelief, blinking in silence for a while until your turn your head towards where Vera is sitting in the cafeteria. The gorgon subtly waves at you with a huge grin on her face as he drinks her vodka, clearly amused by your death stare.

“I guess someone doesn’t know how to keep secrets.”

“Does it really matters in the end?” You look back at Polly when she grabs your book and puts it beside her, a new determination showing on her face. “You don’t need to be afraid of hurting me. I’m already dead, there’s nothing to save. In fact, I should be the one saving you instead of the other way around.”

“You-You don’t know how it feels, Polly.” You put your hand on your chest, grabbing the fabric when you feel the tension in your heart rising. “It’s dark, it’s intense and it is there constantly. I don’t want you to be exposed to that.”

“It’s part of you.” She takes your hand away from your shirt to hold it, her ghostly fingers touching your skin making your spine tremble for a moment. “And I love every single part of you.”

Your breath gets cut in your throat. “Polly…”

“Just take me back, okay?” Her smile shakes a little, the ghost trying her best to hold back a sob. “I know I’m not the best at dealing with these kinds of feelings and I probably won’t understand everything, but… but I promise I’ll try my best to be there for you.”

You feel yourself melt at her words, your brain burning at the sight of her loving you so much.

“Okay…” You intertwine your fingers with her, her excitement already affecting you. “Let’s try this one more time.”

She doesn’t wait for you to say anything else that she’s already putting her lips against yours in a heated passion, her whole world feeling bright once again.

Vera Oberlin:

Vera did everything in order to move on from you quickly.

The first thing she did was to order someone to kill you because she just knew she wouldn’t be able to do it herself. You might think that she could have also spared your life, which would have been easier to do, but just the thought of you going out with someone else at school not only made her cold blood starting to boil but teared apart her heart like a simple piece of paper. You had to be gone in order for her to be happy again, it was the first step.

The other step was to try her best to not think about you. Of course, the fact that you were now gone made it a little easier. Can’t think of someone if you never pass by them in the hallways, right? But it wasn’t as easy as she would have thought, because you were constantly in her head and it was enraging her.

At first, all she could think about was the last moment you two shared: the moment where you grabbed her heart inside her chest and pulled it out so suddenly that she almost cried in public. And she let that memory feed her anger and despair, fueling her enough to be even crueler when she killed people and stole money from them. The memory of you was making her more respected around, and so she didn’t see the problem of getting rid of you from her mind.

But then, she started to remember you differently. It was small moments that kept coming to her brain at random times. Moments where you said a funny joke that made her laugh, moments where you gave her incredible gifts no one gave her before, or sometimes she would just think that you would have loved this thing or that joke, and her dark heart kept twisting in pain every time it would happen.

Then she tried everything to stop thinking about you, from dark spells to unknown sacrifices to gods, but either the things she tried didn’t work, or she wasn’t able to fully commit to it and dropped it at the last second. Because in order for her to stop thinking about you, she would need to completely forget you, and she wasn’t ready for that. As much as she hated to think about it, you were everything to her, and she needed to acknowledge that.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have killed her.” Was a thought that kept creeping into her brain one day, her steps echoing in the hallways because of her high heels. ‘Maybe then we would have a second chance.’

But it’s too late now. Her stupid pride got mixed with her emotions and you were gone. There’s no way she could bring you back without giving her soul to an unknown god. She shouldn’t give her soul to have you back, she’s smarter than that.

But maybe-

She stops walking when she hears a familiar laugh; your laugh. The one she adored hearing no matter where and no matter when. But it couldn’t be you, could it? You’re dead. Her hitman assured it-

Her eyes go wide when she turns into a hallway and see you laughing with Polly, your translucent body floating in the air right next to the party girl.

You’re back as a ghost.

You’re back!

You stop laughing when you spot her staring at you, a sweet smile still staying on your lips.

“Vera, hi.”

The gorgon closes and opens her mouth a couple of times. “H-hi. You’re… you’re a ghost now.”

“Yeah…” Your smiles stretches out. “Yeah, I am.”

Polly looks between you and her best friend with a huge grin on her face, a giggle soon coming out of her throat before she disappears into the lockers to give you two some privacy.

“You’re beautiful…” Vera gets lost in your eyes for a second, but soon regains her confidence as she clears her throat. “I mean, for a ghost, you don’t look half bad.”

Your smile stretches out. “Thanks, Vera. You’re gorgeous as ever.”

Her cheeks burn down from your compliment. “Of course. Your death gave me a new glow.”

She has to remember that you destroyed her with the breakup, and she cannot be too friendly with you even though her heart’s begging her to just claim you back. But how would you want to be with her when she’s the one responsible for your death?

“I can see that.” You tilt your head at her, floating back down towards the ground so you can be at the same level. “Thanks for killing me, by the way.”

She gives you a shocked look. “What?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but it freed me from… well, kind of dark thoughts and emotions I had all the time.” Your smile falters a little at the memory. “Plus, I deserved it for hurting you.”

“I wasn’t hurt.” Vera gives you a hard look when she feels her walls starting to crumble. “You’re wrong if you thought you could even give me a slight amount of pain.”

“If you say so, but I probably should tell you the truth.” You look away for a moment, hesitating. “Vera, I didn’t break up with you because you didn’t make me happy… but rather because I was afraid I would drag you into my depression.”

She stares at you in disbelief as you continue to explain.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me, and I knew you would listen if I told you the truth, so I made up a lied. I shouldn’t have, because I ended up hurting you more, but… I did. So I’m sorry.”

She continues to stare in silence, making you feel uncomfortable, then she suddenly stands a little straighter and gives you a smile.

“Tonight. Seven o’clock.” She slowly passes by you with a proud smirk. “Be ready.”

It’s your turn to give her a shocked look. “Huh?”

“We have a date. You owe me one for hurting me.” She stops at the end of the hallway to give you one last look, her eyes lighting with happiness. “If it goes well, we’re going back together and you can’t say no.”

You don’t think you would have said no anyway since she left you there alone but feeling the happiest you’ve ever been.

[batfamily14]

Jason Todd x Reader Part One : The Party

Jason!Hades x Reader!Persphone

An: As Zeus preys after young Persephone, Hades takes up Althea’s offer and hides her in the underworld. Things grow tense as the polar opposite meet but soon they both find themselves helplessly falling for another.

Zeus : Bruce

Hades: Jason

Hera: Selena

Hermes : Damian

Eros: Richard

Helios: Tim

Artemis : Cassandra

Athena : Stephanie

Persephone : you

Aphrodite: Barbra

Apollo : Duke

Jason’s POV

Jason was never in favor of Olympus’s gatherings, but he attended them anyway , of course , especially if Zeus had demanded it. Among the Gods you could imagine the ruler of the underworld, was not the most popular guest. Now in a carriage to Olympus, he already began to feel his patience drain. Jason held a goblet of fresh wine to his lips, inhaling the sweet aroma. He took a small sip, enjoying the nectar taste that was warm on his tongue. The fine spices of the unrecognizable wine brought his mind to ease.

“ Are you actually in a good mood.” Helios questioned. Jason rolls his eyes.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is the great sun god drunk? Who so ever will pull the sun in the morning?” Jason batted his eyes innocently as Helios scolds him. “Tim, you’re drinking too much for the occasion.” He looks at the poor god. His face was already flushed red, the young man gave him a toothy grin. “Aren’t you enjoying the wine? Isn’t it a swell offering?” He took another swing of his goblet, that refilled almost instantly. “Do you think Demeter made it especially for you?”

Jason didn’t answer, he knew what Tim was baiting at. Instead he stares out the carriage windows. After a moment, Tim laughs. “Don’t be so dull, I only meant don’t you think it’s nice she’s warming up to you.” Jason frowns. Demeter was tipcally harsh to him, she didn’t even invite him to the opening , it was Zeus after all who sent for him. “We are nearly there, could you not stir trouble this evening?” Jason sighs. Tim brushes his long hair, which had fallen into his eyes. “Lighten up. I’m sure this will be a day to remember.” He. Jason snorts as the carriage hauls. They exit out walking the golden streets of Olympus to the pearly gates that protected the garden, in front of Demeter’s home. Green vines wrapped around the metal bars in a warm welcoming. “Flattering.” Tim mumbles . Suddenly the gates open and the two gods walk a path surrounded by the flowery fields. Jason notices Demeter’s customary approach, the flowers were evenly placed in an row and neatly grown. One color melting to another. It was....practical. The stars lit the way as the two approach the banquet. The other gods already there mingling among each other. Jason sits at the table as Tim followed behind and sat next to him. Jason looks around at the garden amused. “She never really changes does she?” He comments. Tim scowls, “Come on give her credit, and besides you know how she is.” He grumbles . “Maybe something new will happen-” he stops at the yell of Poseidon . “Persephone, you sneaky girl!” Jason and Tim share a look as they both glance to see the commotion. A young girl with long dark hair dashes through the crowd with a trident in her grasp giggling loudly. The weapon was far too large for her hands, and often she nearly drops it as she weave through the others. “Catch me is you can!” She squeals. She tumbles over when she leans the weight too much, and collides with Jason. Jason steadies the Goddesses with his free hand. “Oops.” She gasps. Looking at him she smiles. “I apologize, Hades.” Jason recognizes her almost immediately as the daughter of Demeter, Persephone sometimes called Kore. “It’s alright.” He says. “That’s a dangerous weapon you have there, and I believe it belongs to Poseidon.”

“Not today it does.” She challenges . Poseidon finally catches up , slugging slowly to the two out of breath.

“You are quicker than you look!” He huffs bending over. “Hades, can you believe she somehow swiftly pulled it away in a mere second? I didnt even see the little thief.” He pants. The girl looks at him smirking. “I think everyone can.” She lightly punches his arm and hands the trident back.

“Persephone!” Demeter towers over the three angrily. The Goddesses’s face gleams in gold, flush with anger. “How could you embarrass me? Disgrace us in front our guests. I thought I told you how important today was, I thought you’d behave but no. You’ll return inside to your room at once.” Persephone eyes widen. “Mother, I didn’t mean-” Demeter holds her hand up silencing her. “Enough. Come now.” She grips Persephone shoulder making the young girl whine , leading her away. “I am sorry .” She mumbles to the guest as she leaves . Darken lilies grow where her feet laid.

“Don’t be too harsh, Demeter.” Poseidon warns. Demeter scolds him, shaking her head. Persephone enters their home. “Good evening.” She calls to them as she exits inside.

“Good evening.” They echo.

Tim scoffs after the whole display. “Unusual girl.” He remarks. “Nothing like Demeter.”

Jason nods, sipping again from his wine. “Nothing at all.” He agrees, glancing at the fresh grown lilies .

——————————————————————

Y/n collapses into her bed, tears stream down her face.

She groans to herself miserably . She turns over pushing herself up on her forearms. Outside she hears the party continue. A shout of laughter makes her emerge from her bed, she creeps gazing out the window to the man earlier. He smiles cheerfully at Athena.

She stares longingly at him without realizing.

——————————————————————

“Hades.” Athena greets him, flashing a small smile. She curls her long blonde hair behind her ear.

“You’ve finally gotten out your kingdom? Have you been caught up on all the good news?” She chimes. “No, I hadn’t known there were any.” He grunts. Athena shrugs drinking from her goblet , “Would you like to?” She asks . “Sure.” Jason says. He wasn’t really intrigued by the news about Olympus, he was never really interested in anything here. “Have you heard about Persephone? Demeter has chosen her to harvest Spring.”

“Really? Interesting choice. I’ve never seen her harvest before .” Jason responses. Athena nods knowingly. “It’ll be her first.” Jason eyes swept the guest, as the conversation continues. They flashes by Helios and Eros having a drinking competition, and Artemis with Aphrodite gossiping near the orchids. He sighs tiredly. As he gazes around mindlessly, he catches a peek from Persephone peering out her window.

“It was indeed a good decision.” Athena said. Jason eyes snap away from Persephone to her.

“With all the grief she causes Demeter, maybe this will show her potential. She wants to be one of Artemis’s maidens.” She nods approvingly.

“That’ll make Demeter at least happy.” Jason says.

Athena stifles a laugh. “No doubt, Persephone, She runs loose with the shades on Gaea under the name “y/n” and creates the most distasteful aspects of nature according to Demeter.” Athena pursers her lips. “Artemis has yet to approve of the request however she said that she will. Zeus is growing uneasy waiting.”

Jason looks puzzled at her.“A beautiful young maiden that’s a virgin, scorning love? Not a challenge for Zeus , and as controlling as Demeter is neither for her.” Jason says. It wasn’t unusual for Gods to force what they pleased especially under Zeus’s will.

Athena bit her lip. “Truthfully, I don’t think she’s ready for that kind of thing. Artemis and I keep her safe, I’ve befriended her in the process.” Suddenly Jason notices Artemis has disappeared from the garden and is now in the window frame where Kore once stood , closing the panels. “When she becomes a maiden she plans to woe to anyone. God or man. I fear Zeus will lose his patience with us.” Athena gazes into Jason eyes, worrisome.

“I’ve been wondering if she was no longer available to pursue if he’d forget about her.” She comments quietly. Jason raises an eyebrow. “Maybe even out of sight.” She continues. Jason felt his chest tighten as he squeezes his eyes closed. Rubbing his temple he asks, “Are you telling me to pursue miss Persephone?” Athena gives a lopsided smile. “Or at least hide her away.” Jason stiffens. “The underworld is no place for her.” He imagined the poor girl cowering in the dark palace of the underworld, frightened by the sight. “Please, it’d only be for a while.” Athena pleads. Jason frowns. “And Persephone agreed?” Athena shrugs, “We convinced her it’d be in her best interest.”

Even though Jason believes her , he still doubts the idea. The kingdom of the dead housing the goddess of spring? The thought was laughable.

“She is a welcomed guest, as long as there is no trouble.” He says, making his leave from the party.

————————————————————————-

The Next Week

The Garden of Eden was an overwhelming sight. Jason sat in the carriage overlooking the flowers. The winged horses attached to the carriage plucked lazily into their mouths the grass below. A shadow began to cover the fields above them in the sky. Wings flapping loudly , whipping the plants with there forceful winds. Jason covered his eyes and resisted the urge to sneeze as the pollen floats in the air. A white pegasus stands before him fiercely superior to his. He squints in the sun light, at the two women on the horse’s back.

“Althea.” He says, going to greet her. He kisses her hand gently. “It’s great to finally meet you formally Persephone.” He says turning to the girl. He admires her for a moment , her long raven hair curls around face flowing to her ankles, and her unnaturally bright eyes with a tint of gold in the (your eye color).

“And you my lord.” She deadpans. Jason is taken back by the cold greeting, remembering nothing like the nights before. His eyes shifts to Althea who fails to hide a smile. “We’ll leave when you see you fit.” Jason insists. He turns back going to wait in the carriage. He silently watches as Persephone hugs Althea, they share a few words before she departs. Persephone hesitantly enters , sitting far from him.

“Farewell.” He waves off to Athena. The carriage begins to sink into core of the earth to the underworld.

——————————————————

The Underworld

“This is my home.” Jason announces, as the carriage lands on the cobblestone steps outside his palace. Persephone was still quite, only staring at the large kingdom in response. He didn’t know why he expected any difference . The castle is more ancient than any soul in the underworld . The once smooth rock is pitted and scarred. The stones, built from blood and bone.

A goddess who’s hands dwell at the mercy of life, who’s young and beautiful would never be enchanted by death and the darkness of his world. “Welcome to the underworld, lady Persephone.” He said , opening the carriage door. He stands outside and offers his hand as she exits, she ignores the gesture. “Let me show you in.” He said, brushing it off. They walk into his home, Jason leading as Persephone drifts behind. The great hall was polished in marvel, the ceiling was twenty feet high. Designs of fruit such as pomegranate , a carved painting of Jason’s mother Rhea, and a beautiful child with wings of fire looks down at them from the ceiling painting.

“Beautiful painting.” Persephone complements. “I recognize your mother Rhea , but what of the small boy?” Jason rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Thank you.” He says. “And the small child is me.” Persephone only hums in response, eyes falling to his throne as it sat at the head of the room.

“Your throne?” She questions. Jason nods. “If you’d like Kor-Persephone, I could arrange that you have one made to suit you too.” She looks puzzle at him. “It’s y/n, my lord. Also why would you do that?” She spat. Jason stares as in her disbelief , every word like toxin burning his skin. “With a title such as yourself , you deserve no less, y/n. Where else would you sit?” Y/n glances at him slightly frowning, cheeks glowing gold . “Forgive my rudeness, through this whole trip I’ve been brat. Artemis at the Garden opening feared you had plotted to steal me here to marry you instead of Zeus.”

Jason winces at her words , shaking his head. “You don’t belong to me or anyone y/n. You may leave anytime.” She freezes at him in shock, seeming unsure . Till a smile tugs at her lips.

The gold in her eyes shimmer like the morning sun, gleaming in the dark hall.

“I hope this has been a pleasant welcome.” Jason smiles back.

[svtmin]

     disclaimer: i am not related, in any way, to the boys or JYP. this is mainly for entertainment purposes and to humanize the boys a little further by diving into their struggles. please know i mean no harm to anyone and events might be briefly mentioned but other than that, is all invented

DIARIES OF GOT7: ENTRY ONE  — YUGYEOM

Bowling.

It was possibly one of the things we least liked to do, as individuals and friends, but i think it was mostly because of what it meant rather the activity it was. Because bowling by itself was pleasant, while laughing and drinking some, spending time with each other. However, we all knew deep inside ourselves that JB only really planned a night of bowling when it was to deliver bad news. Bringing bad news was already tough but doing it over the phone or even in a meeting room? That’s not the GOT7 way. That’s not the JB way. We can all be relaxed, enjoying ourselves, and the bad news won’t sound so bad. But since this is an habit earned over years and how it usually plays out, there is already a hole in the pit of my stomach, an uneasy feeling I can’t release myself from. And I know I’m not the only one; Bambam beside me is restless, pale digits tapping to a fast tempo, uncoordinated and unpleasant, but who am I to tell him to stop? It’s not at the sound at the low beat of the song, nor of my heart, but he’s restless, concerned, every emotion i mirrored, and I’m not going to be the one to snap. Instead, we remain in silence, despite my burning wish to ask, to reach, to stop his hand. I feel everything and I hate how oblivious my mind refuses to be and acknowledge the gravity of the situation.

We finally pull up at the alley we are used to call as home, Bambam leaving the car without a word. We’re not being ourselves because of the unpleasant feeling the night brings us, but the fresh air calms my nerves, my eyes closing as I leave the car. Breathe, I tell to myself; I know it’s probably silly to feel this nervous, this uneasy over a night with your friends - half of me thinks I should’ve stayed home, despite my social nature pulling me on the opposite direction.

“ —Hey, are you coming? “ my eyes open to see Bambam a few feet away, bleached brows risen as the black hoodie wraps around loosely around his small frame. I nod, voice unfound to this new reality and he nods back “ —’kay, then stop daydreaming, we’re already late. “

I know him — Bambam is usually the first one to crack a smile or a joke in tense situations to make them a little lighter, but we both knew this wasn’t a good time for that. I followed energies better than I created them so I remained quiet: i wasn’t interested in becoming the outcast of the night and Bam clearly set my tone for the night. My steps matched his (finally, the tempo fell right) and we finally got into the bowling alley, pushing the glass door open.

Whenever GOT7 bowled, the alley remained empty and quiet. I suspected that each time, JB rented the whole place for us, to make sure we could hang without being bothered by fans, but I couldn’t be too sure. The place remained dark, tense, with the fairy lights and low smokey illumination above the surfaces making it rather groovy. There was some song playing, calm and yet pacey, but I didn’t recognize it — I was too nervous at this point to see it. My fingers slid through the soft surface of the counter, my shoes already on top of it beside Bam’s, and I grabbed them, head turning inside. And then I saw them.

I hated how tense they seemed already. Mark was sitting back on the sofas, trying to look casual but his clenched jaw already translated to the knowledge of what that night was about. Jackson was next to him, sat on the back of the sofa with feet next to Mark’ seat, leaning forward with brows in a furrow — it was strange, too strange really. Youngjae was standing with JB, both of them absorbed in conversation in small whispers and with how low JB’s head was, it was definitely not a good conversation. Jinyoung seemed not to have arrived yet, which was definitely strange. I stood, near the counter, while Bambam stepped closer and for the first time in about three hours, his smile was gleaming.

“ —Boys! The party has arrived, what’s up? Who’s ready to lose? Who’s with who? Wha— wait, where is Jinyoung? “ he shakes his head, looking back at me with a smirk “ —Guess he’s always late, huh? “

Their faces briefly showed some emotion, a hint of a smile, before returning to the same gloomy environment it was before we arrived. I had set my tone — I was going to be quiet, and after trading complementaries with the two, I sat next to Mark, leaning forward while looking at my hands. We absolutely hated that feeling, but until we were all present, JB wouldn’t say much. Fortunately didn’t took long either until Jinhyung rolled in too, his hair completely messed and pale features showing soft concern, panting slightly. Small apologies rolled from his lips and then and there I knew it was off, we all did. Jinyoung didn’t apologise unless the situation was critic. My stomach turns, my urge to vomit increasing and I saw movement, when Youngjae sat beside Bam. This was it.

The soft silence was only filled with the song unrecognizable song that played on the alley, and it took a few moments until JB finally spoke. Now JB — he sported his neutral expression, almost like unfazed to the situation. Maybe that was why he was a good leader, never transparing his concerns and fears onto us, but made these types of situations ten times worse. We didn’t knew what was coming — if we had been kicked out of JYP or if he had tripped outside; he remains calm, stable, strong for us. I’ll never have words to thank him for that.

“ —Sorry for the last minute invite. I think we all need this. “ he started, soothing voice, and I couldn’t look up towards him, like I was sure the others were. It pains me, but I would clearly see how disturbed he would be “ —Before we start … I just wanted you guys to know I had a meeting with the boss today. JYPE. Anyway. “ there is a brief pause and I feel Mark move uncomfortably in his seat — oh, he knows “ —Once again, he rejected all the songs. I’m not sure how are we going to pull our next comeback, honestly, but we’ll think of something. Hum— I guess Mark? You choose who you wanna play with and we’ll figure out. “

The sudden change of topics made me lift my head. That’s it? Well, wasn’t good either way, but I was expecting the absolute worse. The worst of the worst, technically speaking. In a way, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting or maybe JB wasn’t expressing himself well. Or maybe I just didn’t saw the real gravity of the situation — it happened sometimes. I look at Mark as he gets up, looking around himself before speaking,

“ —What about rappers against vocalists? We haven’t done that in a while. “

“ —Where does Gyeom fits in that? “ Jinhyung smirks looking at Mark and I feel my mouth drop, wanting to just laugh; if it was out of nerves or if it was actually funny, I wasn’t sure. Either way, made everyone laugh, thank god. Youngjae’s loud laughter fills the empty alley better, making my heart lift but I focus once more as Mark grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet.

“ —Yugi is actually a good bowler so we’ll take him, thanks. “ he sticks his tongue out and we see Jinyoung’s face fall, for the big pleasure of the rappers “ —Koo really taught you to play, Yug. You think you can give us all strikes? “

One of Jinyoung’s infamous stares later, and we’re having fun finally. There is still some sort of cloud behind it, like we’re all thinking the same but no one wants to go back to the gloomy feeling of before. Sometimes I catch Mark staring at the wall instead of celebrating Bam’s points or JB biting his nails like he usually does when he’s nervous. Something tells me that wasn’t all he had to tell us but I don’t want to be the one ruining a perfectly decent night. Maybe it does sound selfish of me but if it was truly serious, JB would tell us … right? 

I ended up sharing the car with Bam and Jackson, like one would. I was sleepy and leaning against my window and Bam was talking about something I don’t remember. Unlike before, he was comfortable, energetic and fun like his natural self and Jackson was feeding onto it, like he was so used to him. Sometimes I wondered what I was really doing there, but I was happy someone was feeding Bam’s fire; the previous ride had concerned me heavily. I kept thinking how tight Mark hugged me when we said our goodbyes because a) it was rare to share hugs in such common hangouts and b) it had been tight. It worried me, but if he wasn’t engaging the problem, neither would I.

“ —Yo, Yugyeom, are you even listening to me? “

“ —Huh? “ my eyes turned to Bam, who was looking at me with his brows risen again, Jackson smiling wide on the other side “ —Hum, no, sorry, what was that? “ I blinked, trying to ride that sleepiness again, but I only saw Jackson’s head shake.

“ —Nah bruh, this night is over. He’s legit sleeping over there. “ our senior falls back on the seat before smiling at Bam “ —Besides, we have early schedules so … we better go to sleep. “ 

Whatever it was, they didn’t tell me. I was so sleepy that I barely remember Dalkyum’s pleas of affection and how he snuggled so close to me when I fell on the mattress. I was tired but I don’t remember why — the bad news hadn’t been that bad, we could definitely write new songs … right? This was the huge problem with JYPE in general, we never knew what we could count with. And with ahgases so patiently waiting for us, we didn’t know what to do. My hand scratches Dalkyum’s torso and I leave my head to rest, closing my eyes for a moment. It finally falls on me, how serious this is. How we depend on this comeback, how we want to make our fans proud … and nothing is working in our favour. Not now. Not again. But that’s a problem for tomorrow. It has to be. There is nothing to now.

Part of me knows this, but I know Mark and JB are somewhere right now, fully awake, trying to come up with answers.

I wish I could be of more help.

[riviae]

so this is long & rambly but i’ve been working on this for awhile now.... anyway, starts out very introspective!regis-y but becomes geralt/regis fluff real quick lol. hope y’all enjoy: 

Before crossing paths with a witcher who proved himself to be a man worth following into the very jaws of death, the seasons hadn’t meant much to Regis. 

He knew the cycle of things--life and death, warmth and cold, planting and harvesting--but he was an outsider to these things just as everything else on the Continent. Time passed. Wars were fought. Blood was shed. Empires rose and fell. All the while, Regis remained, burdened by an immortal life lived alone. To take part in humanity, to love it to some extent, but disappear into the shadows when a curious eye took interest in him. When a hand reached out--something that rarely occurred, unless holding a sword, pitchfork, or torch--he knew it was time to pack up and leave, lest he get too attached. 

Self-preservation, for higher vampires, was confined to the affairs of the heart and the mind--their bodies were not in danger of ruin, but memories and emotions were often ruinous for his kind. 

Yet, whatever contentment he could find as a bystander to the world’s happenings and goings was dashed the moment he met Geralt. All those years ago, Regis had fled from Dillingen to his home in Fen Carn, a cottage in the midst of an elven cemetery, in an attempt at avoiding the ever-encroaching war. 

And in perhaps the same cosmically infinitesimal chances of the Conjunction of Spheres occurring, Regis’ entire life changed at the sight of milk-white hair and amber cat-like eyes. He stepped out of his hiding spot, brushed away the stray leaves that clung to his clothes, and faced his destiny with a reserved, tight-lipped smile. 

He’s a witcher, Regis thought, the wolf medallion at the man’s sternum sparking a tiny flame of uneasiness in the vampire’s gut. Then, a more logical thought followed: I’ve always wanted to meet a witcher under amicable circumstances and now, here one is, practically at my doorstep. What luck! 

As his journey with Geralt and the hansa continued, as they traveled and fought, bled and healed, wintered in a land akin to a fairytale, Regis had a startling realization. Something had thawed inside him and he was fairly certain it was the stirrings of love. Like a change in season, like the subtle shift from winter to spring, where one wakes in the morning and sees that all the snow has seemingly melted in the night, unaware of the slowly melting ice with each sunny day until it was completely gone, so Regis was caught unaware by what he felt for the hansa--by what he felt for Geralt in particular.

Just how far would he go for these humans? How much would he sacrifice for these flickering beacons of light, here one moment, gone in the next? It was the ghost of himself--the monster he once was--that would have asked these questions. But the Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzeiff-Godefroy of the present loved his friends even more for their fragility, their tenacity in the face of a world that seemed at the ready to send them into an early grave. Love, he decided, staring at the smiling faces of the hansa at their breakfast table in Beauclair Palace, was a good enough reason to die for--and a good enough reason to live for, when he was on the cusp of nothingness. When any other sentient being would have longed for death in the throes of agony, Regis held on. For them. 

Memories spilled from his head at the first touch of magic-touched flames, nails clawing helplessly at the air. Fear burned him alive, ate away at his flesh until nothing but a pillar of ash remained. It was a pain worse than anything he had felt before--worse than anything he could have ever fathomed. He was neither alive nor dead, but something grotesquely stuck in the middle, unable to pass on to the comforting abyss of oblivion. 

Between the coldness of fear and not-death, between the pain of a body futilely attempting to regenerate from nothing, Regis did find some respite. He dreamed. And dreamed. And dreamed. He was transported to memories of the past, and while some were happier than others, even the painful recollections felt better than the aching emptiness that threatened to swallow his consciousness whole. 

Angouleme’s encouraging laughter whenever he used one of her... unique phrases. A warning pinch from Milva when he veered too far off topic, followed by an apologetic, but brief pat of his hand. A comfortable silence between himself and Cahir as they stayed up to guard the group during the night, sharing a small tincture of mandrake hooch to pass the time. Dandelion’s rapt attention to Regis’ stories, one time so transfixed that he caught his sleeve on fire as they all sat around the campfire and didn’t even notice. Geralt telling him about Ciri, voice warm, eyes crinkled in a rare unguarded expression of fondness. 

He thought back on his journal entries, the once severe, cerebral scrawl now sprinkled with mentions of the hansa. 

Angouleme somehow stole a dozen baguettes from the last tavern we stopped at and took only a quarter of one for herself before distributing the rest to the unfortunate people living in the slums of the city--and I never would have noticed (her prowess as a bandit is not something to be dismissive of, regardless of her youth) if she hadn’t also tried to search through my satchel while I “slept” in the hopes of finding olive oil to spread over her bread. For a child raised by cruelty, her morals are far better than mine when I was her age--or, rather, when I was developmentally at her age. Well, better in certain respects. She’s been quite a menace to the echelon of Toussaint... 

Milva means to show me how to hunt like humans do, meaning that I must learn how to be an archer. I don’t have much skill with human weapons--for nothing is as deadly as a pair of claws or teeth built to pierce and bleed flesh--but I will try my best all the same. Perhaps after this we can continue our reading lessons. For as much as she bemoans academics and learning for the sake of learning (as in things not readily helpful in her everyday survival), she is a naturally charming and brilliant pupil. Her “common sense,” as Angouleme often calls it, has kept us from harm plenty of times--which is why her ability as a student doesn’t surprise me. Now, if only she would stop climbing up a tree whenever our lessons start to bore her... 

Cahir, to my surprise, has taken on the role of doing the laundry for the group. Granted, we all have very few vestments to spare, but what clothes we do have that can reasonably benefit from a soak, Cahir takes and washes in the lake. Which, while I appreciate the sentiment immensely, I still found myself mildly panicked when I went to dress in the morning and my trousers were nowhere to be found. The man is quite young, probably no more than twenty-two years, but he has an old soul, as the saying goes. I would not be surprised if he finally grows sick of war, having grown up in an Empire where bloodshed is the status quo, and decides to make his living as a fisherman or farmer after we reunite Geralt with his ward. I sincerely hope that he gets the chance. 

Dandelion, ever the poet, has shown me his latest ballad. And imagine my surprise when I realized it was about me despite my immense caution on writing anything regarding higher vampires at all. It’s incredibly vapid--a shame, since he is quite the wordsmith when not preoccupied by romantic affairs--but I admit, if it were published, it would become popular within a week. He took the story of my youth and twisted it into something nearly unrecognizable, save for the titular character being named Rex. A two-crown romance with the nominative case of my name attached... perhaps this is a caution to everyone: never make friends with a writer if you value your privacy. 

Geralt dozed off beside me with his head on my shoulder. Now, him sleeping close to me is not all that uncommon--we spent many nights as a company huddled around a dwindling campfire together. What was uncommon was that he sought me out--practically barged into my room--to take his late afternoon nap... all the while I remained as still as a statue, attempting to process the sudden show of affection. Toussaint had softened Geralt in a way, so much in fact, that he apparently saw no harm in falling asleep next to a higher vampire, his swords still leaning in the corner of his room. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of his unusual straightforwardness. Where others might embellish their words, dress them up (or down) to suit their agenda, Geralt forgoes words entirely, instead letting his actions speak with a refreshing honesty. I heard the “I trust you, Regis,” as clear as day.

He thought back to all the times were his cowardice had kept him from voicing his feelings and it paralleled to his past, as if he were the same blood-abusing fiend of his youth. Centuries had passed and glimpses of the same shy, timid vampire who drank blood to be accepted, to make friends, only to lose himself in addiction, still rose to the surface. Blood was no longer a problem, but the fear of otherness, of being ostracized by those he cared about, still tempered his actions. And he was absolutely tired of it.

It was then that Regis made a vow to himself: If I live, If I become whole again, I will tell him the truth. He got his chance almost a decade later, when he was as whole as anyone could be after regenerating from nothing but dust and a drop of blood.

After Dettlaff was placated, no longer a danger to himself or others, Regis visited Geralt at Corvo Bianco. It was summer then, a season that saw him at the witcher’s door just as the last of the rows of sunflowers turned towards the sunlight in the midday heat. 

He knocked on the front door, politeness dictating his actions. A disheveled witcher opened the door, familiar cat-eyes widening marginally at the sight of Regis, as close to a slack-jaw moment of surprise as anyone were bound to get from Geralt. 

“Expecting someone else?” Regis teased, clutching the strap of his satchel as he crossed the threshold into Geralt’s home. He gave a cursory glance about the homestead--it had been decorated fairly well since the last time he visited to drop off the mutagenerator. In fact, the interior was downright cozy, a far cry from what he imagined a witcher keep to look like. 

No matter what Geralt says, his years spent on the Path have influenced him. Only someone who expects to wake in the morning would bother to decorate their home--or to have a home at all. 

The witcher shook his head, long, tangled locks spilling over his shoulders as he scratched tiredly at his beard. “Wasn’t expecting anyone. Thought if it was you though that you’d let yourself in.” 

Regis held his tongue, wanting nothing more than to sit Geralt down and trim his beard. He knew from their time with the hansa that the witcher preferred to be clean-shaven, but hated trimming it himself. The vampire pushed the thought aside. “While I could have simply misted through your window, I didn’t wish to give you a fright.”

“How considerate,” Geralt said, voice rough but teasing. “You chose to wake me instead of letting yourself in.” 

“I assumed you’d be awake. I didn’t realize that respectable vineyard owners slept in until noon.” 

Geralt rolled his eyes at the well-natured jab before walking to his room, leaving the door open behind him. Regis remained in the foyer, focusing his attention on the rather impressive collection of witcher armor that Geralt had acquired. Yet, his supernatural hearing made it impossible not to eavesdrop to some extent; he heard the rustling of fabric and the soft thud of an article of clothing hitting the wooden floor. 

“Hey, Regis,” Geralt drawled. 

“Yes?” he replied a beat too quickly, turning towards the open door. 

“...Gonna get in here? Or do I need to invite you into every room?” 

Scrambling somewhat, the vampire entered just as Geralt tugged a clean white linen shirt over himself. At meeting the witcher’s gaze, the man gave a wide grin. “You came at a good time. I’ve actually got something for you. But close your eyes first.” 

“Geralt, what are you--” 

“Shh. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” 

A brief flash of fond irritation flickered in Regis’ expression as he gave a long sigh, but obeyed, shutting his eyes. He listened to the tempo of Geralt’s heart-rate, the usual slow and steady rhythm having quickened by a few beats. Ah, so he’s excited, Regis mused. Even witcher mutations couldn’t rob him of the biochemistry of his sympathetic nervous system. Then, a sour thought: I hope this isn’t the last time I get to witness such a jovial mood. 

The sound of his heartbeat grew stronger as the man approached, some sort of fabric draped in his arms, if the rustling earlier was any indication. Gently, Geralt placed the mystery item in Regis’ arms and backed away, the old floorboards creaking under his weight. 

“Happy birthday, Regis.” 

The vampire opened his eyes to see Geralt smiling warmly at him. Peering down, he couldn’t stop the look of absolute surprise upon his features, mouth agape.

“This is...” Regis trailed, fingers running delicately over the soft fabric, briefly pausing to rub his thumb against the black fur which lined the inside. 

“It’s not the exact cloak, given what happened at Stygga Castle,” Geralt paused, briefly wincing at the horrid memory, “But I thought you’d appreciate a new one.” 

Regis opened his mouth and then immediately closed it, unable to find the words to express how much the gift meant to him. You remembered... years passed and you still remembered. 

“I know you can’t feel heat or cold like humans do, but...” he shrugged, a hint of sheepishness in his posture, a hand rising up to rub at the back of his neck. “It’s been weird not seeing you with one. You never took that damn thing off so I thought it must have meant something to you.” 

“Geralt,” Regis finally replied once he found his voice again. It was the only warning he gave before the vampire laid the cloak on the bed and moved to seize the witcher in a tight embrace. 

Geralt looped his arms around Regis’ back in return, chuckling. He made no attempt at ending the embrace even as the time spent pressed together stretched on. “So... guessing you liked the gift, huh?” he finally asked, leaning into the gentle swaying of their bodies. 

When Regis spoke, it was barely past a whisper, but Geralt heard him all the same. “Thank you. Thank you for listening to me--for knowing me. Thank you, above all else, for being my friend.” 

“I think I should be thanking you. All I got you was a cloak--but you helped bring Ciri home. Almost gave up your life. Can’t imagine that... risking your immortality for someone like me.”  

“Geralt,” Regis started, pulling away to stare the witcher in the eyes, expression serious, “You are exactly the kind of person that inspires sacrifice. You have a noble heart and, despite your best attempts at proving otherwise, it is a heart full of compassion for others. I know you would have done the same if our roles had been reversed.” 

The witcher was silent then. When he finally managed a response, he did so while clasping Regis’ shoulder. It was something the vampire had noticed ever since meeting Geralt again--the man was more tactile than he’d been before his regeneration. As if he was making sure that Regis was real. Alive. Of flesh and bone. Not something that would crumble at his touch or slip through his fingers like a ghostly apparition. 

“I don’t know if I deserve your kind words, Regis. i haven’t always been... noble. There are things I haven’t told you about. Things that pertain to you.” At this, Geralt’s grip on his shoulder faltered and he pulled away suddenly, as if he were expecting to be hurt. “Truth is, I’ve been keeping a secret.” 

Regis blinked in surprise, a retort resting on the tip of his tongue, but he paused. He noticed, for the first time, that Geralt did look genuinely nervous. Geralt had never looked nervous in his presence--at least not because of Regis. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth all the same.

The vampire took a step forward. If Geralt was also planning to tell him a long-kept secret, then he wanted to tell his own confession first. While he still had the courage to do so. “I too have kept something from you, Geralt. I hope we can still remain as close as we were after this... revelation, if you will. But I understand if you’d prefer some time away from me afterwards.” 

“I doubt there’s anything you could say that would make me want you to keep your distance, Regis. Not after Stygga.” 

Regis gave an attempt at a half-hearted chuckle. “Hearing you say that really warms my heart--especially the certainty in your voice--but I’m afraid that what I need to say will change the course of our relationship, for better or worse. You see, Geralt, I’m... quite fond of you.” 

“I’m fond of you as well...” Geralt replied, confusion twisting his features. “Is that really your big secret?”

“Oh, for the love of--” Regis cut himself off, reaching instead with one hand to encircle Geralt’s wrist while the other cupped Geralt’s cheek. “I love you, you stubborn witcher. I’ve loved you for awhile now, really. Even before Stygga. You’re incredibly easy to fall in love with, though I see now that you’re completely oblivious to this trait.” 

Regis’ hold was gentle, light--something Geralt could easily pull away from if he wished to. But he didn’t. Staring into his own reflection within the coal black of the vampire’s eyes, Geralt closed the gap between them, answering Regis’ confession with his own: a kiss. 

Between kisses, Geralt paused, huffing out a short breath. “...You know, I’m feeling like a fool for not telling you that I loved you sooner, Regis.” 

“Likewise. Which is not something I feel all that often.” 

At this, they both laughed before resting their foreheads against each other. It had been a long road to this--to love--but it was well-earned. Later, Regis’ cloak found a home within a closet in Corvo Bianco. Though the weather in Toussaint was rarely cold enough to warrant a fur-lined cloak, Regis wore it as often as he could, but Geralt left an empty hanger in the closet all the same--just in case. 

Seasons hadn’t meant much to Regis... but now, watching the morning sunlight from the bedroom window pool against the witcher’s back, he felt a tug of warmth at the first touch of Fall, at the chance of donning his cloak and the memory of the day it was gifted to him. He didn’t want to replace the painful memories, the memories of those he loved but lost, but he also knew that somewhere, surely, Milva, Cahir, and Angouleme were smiling down at them. And that was a sense of peace with his past that he wouldn’t trade for the world. 

[oh-so-scenarios]

damn but, you is amaze… ♥| Part 12

↠ Prince Jungkook ends up meeting his Cinderella, and he tries to find her before the clock strikes 12 and the fairytale magic fades.

**A/N: Errors, there are spealling and grammar errors. will fix them later! Idk how I feel about this chapter...not my best work in my opinion.

◀ last|part twelve|next ▶

•Masterlist•

Y/n sat staring at her phone. The messages from Jungkook continue to pile up. For the past few days, Jungkook has been sending sweet messages, not expecting a reply.

Jungkook: Good Morning Y/n, I hope you have a wonderful day!

Jungkook: Good night sweetheart, sweet dreams.

The early morning shines through her bedroom window while she sits at the edge of her bed. Sunny sits at the desk settled not too far away. She stares at Y/n waiting for a response to the question that has been hanging in the air.

It is the day of the Spring Gather Ball. The media is buzzing as Kings, Queens, and royalty from different nations land in Korea. Media are already trying to sneak in to catch a glimpse of the decorated hall. Performers and the entertainment are already doing rehearsals in the hall. Social media is already flying with tweets.

What Y/n didn’t know was the special performances would be available on a live stream through the Royal Family’s official website. It seems there is a bigger audience this year, all waiting for the Prince’s mystery girl.

The question that is hanging about is whether Y/n wants to go.  Unlike last time, Sunny won’t be there to encourage her. She’d be there on her own, to face the Prince.

“I made the nail appointment for 9am, so it’s up to you Y/n.” Sunny urges. Y/n doesn’t respond but looks down at her phone again. The screen was black and before she could unlock it, a ding sounded from the device.

[8:12 AM] Jungkook: Good morning sweetheart, I hope you slept well. I am hoping to see you tonight. Have a wonderful day :)

She sighs and nods, slowly getting up from her bed. Sunny squeals in excitement, springing up from her seat.

“Perfect! I’m so glad you’re going!”

Y/n doesn’t have the energy to respond, making a slow walk toward the bathroom. She sets her phone on the bookshelf by the bathroom door and proceeds to complete her morning routine. Her pace was slower than usual, anxiety running scary thoughts in her mind.

After stepping out the shower, she puts on her bathrobe and makes her way out the bathroom. She finds Sunny on the phone.

“So it’s done?” She mumbled with a smirk on her lips. She brought her finger up to her mouth, biting her nail. As she met my confused gaze, her smile widened.

“Thanks, Marco! You’re the best!” She hangs up the phone, turning around to show Y/n a big smile.

Y/n leans back, fearing what Sunny could be planning. Her proud grin only gets larger as she sees Y/n hesitate.

“Who is Marco and what has he done?” Y/n questions as she makes her way towards her bed. She begins to lotion her body watching as Sunny giggles to herself.

“Marco is a guard at the Spring Gather today, I know you don’t like a lot of attention so I arranged for him to sneak you in the side door. The whole grand entrance walk down the staircase is so not your style.”

Y/n hums in agreeance, and though she doesn’t show it; she’s very thankful to Sunny for caring so much to go out her way.

Y/n stops what she’s doing, letting her mind drift as Sunny runs around the room getting things prepared.

“Sunny,” Her voice comes out soft, and distant. She’s becoming lost in her thoughts, her mind wandering into the far future.

Sunny stops her movements to stare at her frozen friend. When Sunny doesn’t reply, Y/n continues to speak her thoughts.

“A lot is going to change after tonight, isn’t it?” Y/n didn’t need to know Sunny’s answer because she already knew the answer.

Rather than answer the question, Sunny moved onto a different topic. She was worried that Y/n was going to chicken out, and was hoping to keep her from overthinking.

“Get dressed, we have to go to the nail place and after that, I’ll help you learn how to keep a low profile at these events. When all that is done with, we gotta go to hair and makeup.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and fell back onto her bed. She stared up at her ceiling, keeping a grip on her towel so it didn’t slip off her body.

“It’s going to be a long day.” She whined. Sunny poked her head into the girl’s view, blocking the plain ceiling her eyes were focused on.

Sunny’s blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, with a few short strands flying loose and around her face. Her oversized shirt that held the logo of some old rock band was slipping off her shoulder yet she still managed to look amazing.

A wicked smirk pulled at the corner of her slightly chapped lips, “If you’re lucky, it’ll be a long night too!”

Y/n scoffs at her words, reaching around her to grab a pillow. However Sunny moves faster, dodging the pillow Y/n throws.

“Sunny! Stop having such dirty thoughts!”

“Have you seen that man? He ain’t my type but I know you’re in for a good time.” Sunny winks before exiting the room.

“Jungkook!” The Queen called her son who ran from her once again.

“Jungkook!” She shouted even louder, picking up speed. Her green sundress flowed in the wind as she chased after her son, nearly knocking over some of the ball preparers in the process.

“Stop him!” She yelped, causing her son to throw a glance over his shoulder. He meets her eyes and snickers at his mom’s antics. Jungkook thinks he’s in the clear from his mom’s demanding questions when he crashes into what he thinks is a wall.

He stumbled back to meet his father’s vexed face.

“Father.” He muttered. Before he could collect himself, his mother’s warm hands clamped onto his shoulders. She stood at a short 5’2, but she held onto her son for dear life.

“How long are you going to avoid our questions?” The King asked staring at his flustered son, “your mother and I have the right to know about our future daughter in law.”

Jungkook shook his head at his father’s words and gently brushes off his mother’s hands.

“That’s just it, I don’t know if she’ll even appear tonight, she doesn’t like the spotlight and she really doesn’t like the talk or marriage so soon,” Jungkook explains.

“Well, what did she expect? You’re going to be King, you need a Queen.”

“Please for the love of God stop saying that! I don’t need someone who fits the role of Queen, I need someone who fits me and is right for me.” He argues back to his mother. He runs a hand through his hair, leaving his parents in stunned silence.

They didn’t think their son had thought so deeply about someone to marry. He never really showed much interest in who his Queen would be. The King and Queen were expecting a swift arranged marriage being enough for their son, but now they see that they were wrong.

“So this woman,” The King speaks in a softer tone, “this mystery woman if she appears tonight what’s the goal?”

Jungkook shrugs, “I don’t know what the goal is...I just want to see her.”

“So the goal is just to see her?” The queen mirrors her son’s words.

Jungkook laughs awkwardly, “Yeah, see her, talk to her and get to know her better.”

There is a silence between the three before both parents share a look with each other. In a wordless exchange, the King and Queen come to an agreement. Both nod at the same time, taking their son by surprise.

“If the goal for tonight is just to see her then that’s it. We won’t push you on it, but if things are going well..try to at least let us say hello. We promise not to scare her off.” The King states bring a big smile to their son’s face.

“Great!” Jungkook chimes, his smile only staying on his lips for a brief moment.

The question is if she’s going to show up. Jungkook says goodbye to his parents before continuing down the hallway. He makes his way to his room, pushing open the wooden double doors. He shuffles to his bed, catching a glimpse of the suit picked out for him. It was something simple. A black thin fabric turtle neck with a black suit jacket, a thin silver chain, and a red pocket handkerchief. He throws himself on the bed, laying on his stomach with his eyes closed.

Though it seems that his whole mind is wrapped around Y/n, he also has to make sure to speak to the Kings and Queens from different nations. He remembers his father mentioning the important diplomats he needs to get familiar with. He groans and digs into the pocket of his jeans. The regular texts in the group chat with the guys. Yet. notification from Instagram.

He opens the app and goes to his direct messages. Y/n read it but did not reply. Jungkook closes his eyes in defeat, dropping his phone on the bed beside him.

“Please Y/n,” He whispers to himself, “Please be here tonight.”

He stays like that for some time, not moving and almost falling asleep till his phone pinged. Jungkook moved quickly, hoping to see Y/n’s name. It was the group chat instead.

From Jin: Good vibes and good luck for the ball tonight! See yall at 7!

Jungkook could only close his eyes and try to resume the half heart rest he was getting.

“Done!” Sunny shouted as she finished Y/n’s hair. Y/n stared at herself in the mirror, gawking at the person staring back at her. Her make up was done beautifully while her hair was pulled into an exquisite updo that looked like strands of hair were graciously laced together. Y/n’s make up was simple with a neutral eyeshadow look and a deep brown matte lipstick.

“Y/n, you look beautiful!” Sunny exclaims, “Jungkook is gonna lose it when he sees you! Ugh, he’ll probably ask you to be his Queen right there and then!”

Y/n rolls her eyes, but can’t rid the big smile on her lips.

“You think so?” Y/n nervously twiddles her fingers, not able to part her eyes from her reflection. She looks beautiful, but she’s thankful to Sunny. The person in the mirror isn’t unrecognizable. She still looks like herself.

“Absolutely. Now let's have you step into the dress.” Sunny scurried over to the large garment bag that was hung up in Y/n’s closet. The dress was beyond belief and the fact that Sunny was able to pull it together so quickly is even more amazing. Y/n stands up from her seat, dropping the silk robe she was wearing to reveal her undergarments. Sunny quickly takes the dress out, preparing it for Y/n.

Once ready, Y/n steps into the dress and Sunny helps her put it on, closing the buttons in the back. After managing to get her heels on, Sunny helps Y/n pack her clutch purse.

Sunny exhales, her lips spreading into a huge smile. She looks Y/n up and down, “You look amazing.”

Y/n looks down at the red sparkle ballgown that reaches the floor with a bit of a train. The off-shoulder straps and v neck that showed just enough cleavage seemed to not take too much away from her. Y/n was worried it would look more like the dress was wearing her.

But, she should have known that Sunny would get it right and that she did. The feeling of being dress up like this made everything feel more real. She was going to meet Jungkook.

She lets out a shaky breath, her eyes dashing to the clock. 7:02 PM.

“It’s good to be fashionably late.”

JUNGKOOK SMILED and waved as he and his family entered the ball, escorted by the claps of all the guests that were in attendance. His eyes scanned the big ballroom to the best of his abilities. His eyes settled on as many faces as he could, hoping to find Y/n’s beautiful eyes looking at him.

To his disappointment, those kind eyes were nowhere to be found. As he and his parents reached the bottom of the staircase, a microphone was handed to his father. Cameras flashed as media captured the moments. It was at that moment that Jungkook became aware of the flashing lights. His mind was so preoccupied with searching for Y/n, he almost forgot the eyes of the media on him.

He didn’t realize that as his eyes scanned the vicinity, the media watched expectantly hoping to catch the moment Jungkook locked onto his future Queen.

Noting her son’s look of disappointment, the Queen leaned over to whisper words of encouragement to her son, “I’m sure she’ll be here, son. The night has just begun.”

Jungkook shared a small smile with his mother before tunning into his father’s speech.

“...having all of you here is such an honor and we are thankful for coming to celebrate the Spring Gather with us. The ball is the celebration Spring ending and entering the 6th month of the year. We are halfway! Please enjoy the entertainment.”

The King ends quickly, prompting applause from the audience. The entertainment begins immediately. A world famous children’s choir is performing, their glorious harmonies and vocals filling the hall. Some people were watching while others danced and mingled.

Before Jungkook could make his way into the flood of people, his father stopped him.

“Remember son, smile.” That’s all he said before releasing his son. Jungkook slowly walks into the congregation of people, meeting familiar and new faces along the way. Stopped by the Prime Minister, Japan’s King and Prime Minister as well.

They no longer saw Jungkook as the small boy who hid behind his father. They were speaking to him on policies and how he plans to rule as King. Jungkook honestly felt overwhelmed at first, almost wanting to search for his dad in need of help.

Yet, as time went on, he found a way to relay his feelings and plans in his own way. Jungkook managed to escape the diplomats conveniently finding his group of friends.

“There he is,” Yoongi said as Jungkook approached them. The guys were all gathered around the table that held the food drinks. Jungkook wordlessly grabbed a glass of what seemed to actually be white wine. He took a small sip before turning his back to his friends.

“She hasn’t shown up huh?” Namjoon questioned. Jungkook shook his head, searching the crowd once more. The handsome Prince felt his hope slowly leaving him as he continued to search the room.

“Have you guys seen anyone arrive? Have you seen anyone walk down the stairs that you haven’t really seen before?” Jungkook questioned his friends.

“Nope,” Hoseok answered, “The media has been keeping their eyes peeled just as much as you have. She would have been bombarded with cameras and questions of who she was before you could even find her.” The Duke took a sip of his wine, his eyes also darting around the hall.

Jungkook took another sip of his wine, his eyes now focusing on the opera singer that was belting a lovely piece on the elevated stage across the hall.

“She could be running late?” Jin suggests, trying to ease Jungkook’s tension. Jungkook stands with the guys as they talk and watch the opera singer.

“I'm going to get air.” Jungkook suddenly says, setting his glass down and making his way through the people to get to the glass double doors that lead to the garden. The garden was decorated beautifully with lights and the warm summer air complimented the decor. Jungkook needed to catch his breath. The different smells of perfume as different Princesses and diplomat’s daughters approached him were starting to make his head spin.

It was only 8:26 PM and he already wants the night to end. He reached the doors, surveying the hall once more. Media already has their cameras pointed at him but he doesn’t pay them much mind, proceeding outside anyways. As he slowly strolls down the walkway line with beautiful rose shrubs, he comes to the big fountain in the middle of the garden. It was lit up, water streaming from the porcelain fish figurines at seated on the top of the structure.

The large circle base of the fountain was filled with water and as Jungkook approached closer he heard voices.

“Well, I think singing in your choir is probably a lot more fun than being a Princess. Princess’s actually have a lot of hard work.” A voice teased. Jungkook found himself slowly walking around the circle base of the fountain, to see the speaking person. He came to an interesting sight.

The children who previously performed gathered around a woman in a red gown. She sat on the rim of the fountain speaking to the children kindly. All Jungkook could see was her backside, but that all he needed. He swallowed as he felt his hair begin to pound in his ears. It felt like his whole body was pulsing as he took a shaky step closer.

“Oh, the Prince!” One of the little girls chimed, grabbing the attention of all the other children. She points Jungkook’s way and the sudden attention made him stop walking. Jungkook watched as the woman rose up from her spot, turning around with curious eyes.

Y/N FROZE WHEN she met Jungkook’s wide doe eyes. In that second, it felt like electricity was running through her system. All she could hear was the breeze blowing gently and her heart pumping blood.

Say something...say something! Y/n’s lips parted but it seemed like her voice was trapped in her lips.

“Sweetheart…” was all that left Jungkook’s lips. He sounded out of breath like he had the air knocked out of him.

“Is the prince here to see you?” One of the kids asked, snapping Y/n out of her trance. She presented a nervous smile, not sure how to reply to the girl’s question.

“If the prince is here to see you, then you are a real princess!” The girl squealed in excitement, drawing out a chuckle from Jungkook. Y/n’s gaze moved back to Jungkook as the kids slowly said their greetings. His focus was on the kids for a moment, leaving Y/n to take in his appearance.

She exhales, her chest rising and falling dramatically. There is no way he’s real. Such a beautiful and radiant man stood in front of her. She was stunned. The aura radiating off him is too strong. She wonders if that’s what was causing the tingles she felt when she first met him at the previous ball. She felt confident until now.

The air around him was on a different level in itself. He’s a prince. A Prince. He’s going to be a King. She felt herself growing intimidated again.

She remembers standing in the shadows, watching as he and his parents descended down the stairs. It felt like she was watching a movie. Watching from afar as he spoke with world leaders and diplomats.

He’s a natural. That simple man she was speaking to through Instagram is a big deal.

Second-guessing herself for a moment, she took staggering steps backward. The children were making their way back inside, giving Jungkook the chance to bring his attention back to Y/n. He looked up just in time to see her retreating back. He felt his heart drop a bit.

Before he could think, his body moved.

“Sweetheart, wait.” He calls out, jogging to keep up with her. He jogs in front of her, blocking her path. She nervously keeps her eyes on the floor, taking in a deep breath and catching Jungkook’s subtle cologne.

“Were you trying to run from me again?” He jokes, hoping to lighten the tense atmosphere. Y/n can’t help but giggle, managing to peak up at the shy smiling man in front of her. Once he’s caught her eyes, she can’t look away. There it is, that electricity again, Another shaky breath escapes her lips as he takes hold of both her hands.

“I feel like I had so much to say and now that you’re here...it’s all left me,” Jungkook speak honestly.

Y/n giggles, understanding his words. She looks down at her hands in his and wonders how such a simple gesture was able to erase her doubts. Why does this feel so natural? The longer he held her hands, the hotter her body felt.

“I think I’ll start by saying, thank you for coming. Also, I am sorry for the way I spoke to you at the mall. It was so rude and unfair to you.”

“I-it’s okay, I understand that it wasn’t anything personal...you had a lot of girls coming up to you. How were you supposed to know it was me?”

“Still, I want to apologize. I am sorry, I hope I am forgiven.” He raises an eyebrow and Y/n narrows her eyes at him. She slips her hands out of his to fake think.

“Mh, I’ll probably have to think about that and get back to you.” She teases.

“Your friend isn’t with you tonight?” Jungkook holds Y/n hand again, and starts guiding her on a walk in the garden.”

“Nope,” Y/n says, “And it’s really too bad...the drinks are actually alcohol this time.”

“I knew you’d like that! I was expecting sparkling cider again, but I got a big gulp of white wine.”

“Sparkling cider is no fun!”

They both strolled through the garden, chatting and cracking jokes like they’ve known each other for years. The stars twinkled beautifully in the sky but that wasn’t enough for Jungkook to take his eyes off Y/n. He felt his heart swelling up with happiness the more they spoke.

He could almost see the walls of worry breaking down as they spoke. Once she stepped out of her shy shell, her personality was shining through. Jungkook wasn’t sure what to call the soaring feeling that had overcome him when he was with her, but he knew that he didn’t want the night to end.

Y/N’s POV:

We walked around in silence for a few minutes. It was a comfortable silence, Jungkook’s hand wrapped gently around mine. My eyes wandered around a bit, taking in the lovely garden and twinkling stars in the night sky.

I could feel Jungkook’s eyes on my profile but I was too nervous to make eye contact, feeling chills go down my spine as I watched his eyes grow darker out of the corner of my eyes. His eyes stayed on the side of my face for a while, slowly trailing down to my neck and lingering on my chest for a few seconds before coming back up to my face.

“So, you’re going to become King soon,” I say a matter-of-fact, finally meeting his intense gaze.

He nods and speaks meekly, “Yes. I knew it would happen eventually, but it’s coming faster than I expected. I’m starting the necessary studies to take the crown.” He squeezes my hand as if to convey just how nervous he is.

“What type of king do you want to be?” I’m not totally sure why I brought this topic up. I was trying to distract myself from the heat that was growing throughout my body.

He sighs as if the question was one he was waiting for, “Rather than what kind of king do I want to be...what kind of king do you think this country needs?”

I was taken off guard, not expecting him to bring the question back around to me. I stopped walking, making Jungkook do the same. He turned his body to face me, one hand resting in the pocket of his pants while the other held my hand, his thumb drawing circles on the back of my hand.

“I think this country needs a king who wants to see the people reach their highest potential. Not only working to grow the country among others but working to also grow the people in the country. Programs for those who want to go to college but can’t afford it. Programs to grow the talents and interest of the younger kids. Working to those who are too old to work, yet have no money saved for retirement.” I paused, trying to read Jungkook’s expression.

He was listening and watching intently. His lips were turned up in a small smirk, but not in a teasing or belittling way. He was happy with what I was saying.

“I think this country needs a king that can work for a better future for his people. Someone who is passionate, caring and ready to work. I think you’re all those things, so don’t doubt yourself Jungkook. Lead with your heart also well as your mind and you’ll be fine.” I finish my short monologue, smiling up at him.

He let go of my hand and place his hand on the small of my back. He slowly brought me closer to him, staring down at me fondly.

My lips parted while my heart picked up the pace.

“You always seem to say the right things. What else do you have under your sleeve?” His voice falls to a soft whisper, his eyes flickering from my eyes to my lips.

“I don’t have anything under my sleeves, I’m just plain old Y/n who takes pictures. Plus my dress doesn’t have sleeves.” I giggle at my own remark, also making Jungkook giggle.

Before I could finish my small laughter, Jungkook brought me closer to him, our chests basically touching. It all happened so quick, him leaning close, my eyes fluttering closed and slight brushing of his lips on mine. As if he was testing the waters.

That slight touch was enough to run chills up my back cause me to tremble slightly. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know he was smirking at me. His lips met mine again. This time stronger. His lips were so warm, smooth and welcoming.

Our lips parted for a moment before resuming. He was kissing me like it was the only thing he knew how to do. Sometimes my lips capturing his, or his capturing mine. Both my hands slid up his chest, causing what sounded like a growl to escape his lips.

His other hand placed itself higher up on my back. He tilted his head a bit deepening the kiss. It was like we couldn’t get close enough, and though my legs were turning to jelly, I’ve never felt so secure in a person’s arms before.

I pulled back from his lips for a few seconds to catch my breath. Our foreheads touching, I opened my eyes to see his eyes still closed. I leaned up, kissing him again. Slow, and short kisses, followed with heavy breathing in between.

“Jungkook are you out her-- Oh! Oh, I am so sorry!” The voice said. I swiftly stepped back from Jungkook, turning my back to the new man in embarrassment.

“Jin Hyung, what’s up?” Jungkook said casually. I straighten my dress a bit planning to turn around the man Seokjin who I think is a Duke when my eyes settle on something. I focus till I recognize what seems to be a camera lens, about three of them,

It feels like my blood freezes over. Were we being watched the whole time? D-did they get pictures of us?

I am taken out of my internal panic by Jungkook’s voice.

“Y/n?” He calls me. I spin around to meet his curious eyes, “Everything okay?”

I nodded, “Yeah.” I turn to face the new man with a small smile. Jungkook’s hand rests on my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Hi, I’m Y/n, it’s so lovely to meet you Duke Seokjin.” I bowed, earning a chuckle from both men.

“Please, there is no need to bow to me Y/n, and call me Jin. I’m just an older more handsome version of Jungkook.” He teased. Jungkook rolled his eyes at his hyung’s words.

“Hyung please!” Jungkook whined.

Jin shrugs looking my way for support, “I mean, did I lie?”

I opened my mouth to reply when Jungkook spoke, “We probably have to make our way inside,”

“Fair warning,” Jin begins, speaking to me more than Jungkook, “everyone already wants to know where the Prince has disappeared to….so when you walk in everyone’s attention is going to be on you Y/n.”

I take a deep breath and glanced at Jungkook who smiled encouragingly.

“So once you step into that room your face is gonna be known to the world so I’d take a moment to catch my breath.” Jin mumbles. Jungkook playfull hits his hyung earning a shocked look from Jin.

“What did you hit me for?!” Jin shouts.

“You’re not helping her nerves at all hyung! Why would you say something like that?” Jungkook urges.

“If you don’t want that attention, I could have someone sneak you out?”Jungkook offered.

“It’s fine, let’s go and get it over with,” I muttered walking ahead of the two men and towards the doors.

“She’s spunky.” Jin comments, “I like her.”

I stopped at the double doors, waiting for the two men to catch up.

“Let’s get this done with, I’m gonna have to get past the cameras to grab some wine,” I say throwing Jungkook a smirk. He wraps an arm around my waist and though I’m shaking in my boots right now, I won’t let him see that.

He opened one of the doors for me and I stepped back into the hall. It seems that everyone was watching another performance. Some of the media took glances at me and didn’t think anything of it till they saw Jungkook trailing in behind me while Jin followed. Once Jungkook took hold of my hand, the camera flashes were beyond belief.

However, it didn’t seem to bother him, I shielded my eyes from the lights, not really able to understand any of the questions being yelled at me. It wasn’t long before some tall and heavy set men placed themselves between the media and Jungkook and me.

“See, all you gotta do is ignore them,” Jungkook whispered in my ear, and then we proceed into the hall, all eyes on us as he led me towards the table that had all the drinks and food.

I tried to keep my breathing steady with all the eyes on me and tried not to see so eager to grab a glass of wine. My attention was on seeming unfazed that I didn’t notice the dukes watching me down this glass of wine with a new found fondness.

“Oh,” I said out loud, “I probably look like I have a drinking problem but I don’t I promise.” They all started laughing at my words.

Seokjin, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung. Jungkook’s small and only group of friends. They were all very excited to meet me, not hesitating to tell me about Jungkook’s nervous moments.

Taehyung, in particular, was trying his best to calm my nerves and I am very thankful. None of them mentioned anything about me being Queen and I was glad. Though it seems that the word was being shouted at me by the media and reporters.

“I am not gonna tell them about the ice cream incident!” I hissed at Jungkook who couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Jimin’s eyes lit up, “No, no tell us!”

“Okay so she was--” Jungkook begin but I placed a hand over his mouth.

“Nope! Nope! Nope! We are not going there! You don’t see me airing out that time you had issues with oatmeal.”

“Oh man, Jungkook told you about that?” Namjoon chimed, “If your ice cream story tops that then we gotta hear it!”

“I’d rather jump from the balcony of this palace!” I exclaim removing my hand from Jungkook’s mouth.

“That’s a bit extreme,” Hoseok added, “Jungkook will just tell us the story later.”

I scoff, “Of course he will.” I playfully glare at him, only for him to scrunch his nose and smile.

I felt like I was already part of the friend group, giggling as the guys tried their best to embarrass Jungkook in front of me.

The night was slowly coming to an end and slowly music is playing as people pair up to slow dance. I exhale in relief, realizing that the night is almost over and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

Though it seems that I relaxed way too soon.

“Y/n,” Jungkook whispered into my ear. His hand rested on my back and he leaned towards me, his lips right beside my ear.

“Yes?” I reply, turning my head to face him. The playful air changed suddenly. His lips centimeters from mine. I turn back around to look at the guys who were joking around once more.

“I’m so glad you came today, and I know I may have already pushed you out of your comfort zone...but can I ask one more thing of you?”

“Okay,” I agree, “I’ll cost you though.” I keep my eyes forward. “You’ll have to make up to me.”

I looked up at him once again, grinning slyly. It felt like we were in our own little bubble for that moment. Even the increasing camera flashes couldn’t break my attention.

I like him, a lot. Maybe too much and that’s okay. He’s right, I am way outside my comfort zone but since it’s with him...it’s okay. Maybe I can get through this, as long as it’s with him.

“Make it up to you? How should I do that?” He whispers eyes flickering to my lips.

“Wow, you two are like this already? Please get a room!” Yoongi wines. Jungkook turns to stick his tongue out at his hyung.

“Hush up Yoongi, I think it’s cute!” Hoseok scolded, “Please continue.”

Jimin’s brows furrow, “I just think Hoseok is a pervert!”

“If thinking new blooming love is cute and deserves room to grow means I am a pervert than okay!” Hoseok defends.

My cheeks heat up at the mention of love, but it Jungkook doesn’t even notice.

“Anyways,” He says loudly to shut down the bickering of his friends. He turns back to me with a soft look in his eyes.

He hesitates, biting his lips nervously, “My parents want to meet you. Just briefly. It’s nothing formal or official, they are just curious.” He nearly pleads, beaming at me with an uncertain smile.

I don’t answer right away, my mouth opens as if to speak. Meet his parents? At a public event like this? No matter if it’s a formal meeting or has anything to with possibly becoming Queen, the media will see it and label me as the Crowded Princess and future Queen.

“Sure, I’ll meet them.” I finally say. Honestly, it was worth it, seeing the huge smile on Jungkook’s face.

“Great! We’ll say our greetings to them then I can take you home? It’s been a long night.”  

We walked through masses with the occasional hellos to Jungkook. I could just about see the King and Queen in sight and I spoke suddenly.

“You think they’ll like me?” I spoke in a small panic.

“They’ll love you Y/n, don’t worry.” He reassured me. We caught their attention as we approached. Actually, we caught everyone’s attention. The eyes of every single person were on Jungkook and I as we approached the King and Queen.

The Queen was smiling kindly at me, and it was clear that she was eager to speak to me.

“Hello son,” The King said to Jungkook. Jungkook got his height and stature from his father for sure, but he looked a lot more like his mother. The same sweet smile on her lips was copied onto Jungkook’s face.

“Mom, dad.” He greets them, slowly pushing me forward. I didn’t realize that I was practically hiding behind him.

“This is Y/n.”

I bow at a full ninety degrees, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” My voice was a little shaky, but I doubt it was noticeable. I stood up straight and was immediately pulled into a hug.

“It’s so nice to meet you Y/n!” The Queen almost sang. There was an audible gasp in the room. The Queen’s action wasn’t expected and I froze up in her arms.

She squeezed me tightly, “I wanted to meet the girl that has my son’s head in the clouds!”

She pulled back from the hug and smiled widely at me, “It’s so wonderful to meet you. Ugh, I really didn’t expect my son to find his Queen so quickly.”

If I was stiff before, I’m a plank of wood now.

“Mom!” Jungkook hissed, noticing my reaction. The Queen hopped back, covering mouth with her hand. At that moment, the older woman looked like a scolded child.

“I’m sorry,” She spoke in a hushed voice, “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her cute action, “It’s okay your highness.”

“Oh stop with the formalities! I’m Mrs. Jeon!” She chimes.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Y/n. You’re a very beautiful young lady, my son has good taste.” The King said grinning widely.

I had the urge to bow again but didn’t get the chance as the Que-- Mrs. Jeon stopped me.

“Nevermind the bowing, tell me more about yourself.” She hooked her arms with mine and began strolling. I looked over at my shoulder at Jungkook who was trying to follow after us. His father stopped him, speaking with him as well.

Mrs. Jeon and I walked around a bit as I spoke to her about my work, my education and family background. I didn’t feel any judgment as I spoke with her and she often cracked jokes making me believe Jungkook’s goofiness is as a result of his free-spirited mother.

“I am so glad I was able to meet you tonight. I promised my son I wouldn’t come on too strong but I failed horribly. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. To non-royals, our dating and marrying process can seem rushed.”

“I was a bit thrown off, but it’s okay. I understand it’s all in the best interest of Jungkook.”

“I hope we’ll keep seeing you around Y/n.” The Queen’s voice was softer.

“You will,” I said, confirming her unspoken question.

I wasn’t with the Queen for much longer, Jungkook coming to snatch me away from his mother. We said our farewells, and though he apologized about his mother over and over again; I assured him that I enjoyed talking to her.

We departed quickly, saying goodbye to his group of friends and sneaking out without media catching us.

And the end of the nice brought us to the back of a fancy black SUV parked outside my apartment complex. Jungkook’s driver kept his attention forward as Jungkook turned to face me.

“I don’t want to let you leave..” Jungkook spoke softly.

“Really?” I said, finding myself scooting closer to him. His hand that was resting on my thigh moved its way to the small of my back.

“Kind of scared you’re going to disappear on me.”

I pouted at his words, “I won’t disappear on you. I gave you my phone number and you know where I live silly. You’ll totally see me again.”

I leaned forward to peck his lips. When I pulled away, his lips followed mine. He kissed me again, long, slow kisses.

I was the one to pull away, earning a small whine from him.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said as I caught my breath.

He nodded eagerly and kissed me once more, “Yes, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

[luobingmeis]

so i’ve got an amnesty theory

and i had to wash off some negative feelings in the shower so i had a lot of time to think on this so, forgive me, bc this might get a bit long

but i think what travis/aubrey said was right, that this particular abomination looks almost staged, that it’s meant to be scary. and, with that, i think someone is targeting the pine guard/amnesty lodge.

bc, just think, a blonde vampiric woman (suspect: dani) walks into the hornet’s nest (motive: jake coolice’s ex friends) and commits an act so grusome and literally monstrous (evidence that ties into monstrous acts: the cryptonomica) that it can’t be ignored by kepler. it’s meant to be scary and look monstrous because it is.

but, first, let me backtrack: the abominations. as they had said in the episode, the other abominations looked like accidents. the beast looked like a bear and, with that, any fatalities could be a bear attack. if calvin owens drowned in the pool bc of the water monster, it would look like just that: he drowned while training. the calamity tree was literally made to make purposeful events look like accidents. no normal person would look at a bear attack, or a kid who drowned, or a car crash, and think “oh, it’s a monster.”

but a fanged woman who seemed to grow in size and literally mutilate and tear into bodies so badly that they’re unrecognizable? most people’s first thought would be, “oh, it’s a monster.”

and that’s where i think the targeting of amnesty lodge comes in. of course, this raises the question of if it’s dani. i don’t remember if it has been said in canon, but i highly doubt that dani has never left amnesty lodge. i’m pretty sure she’s been out in kepler before. and, since we know that kepler is a small town, there’s probably at least a few people that, in good lighting, could recognize her. so, for whatever reason, if dani wanted to turn on amnesty lodge/mama/pine guard/whatever, i think she would know how to do it.

but i don’t think it’s dani.

i think the abomination can shapeshift. we saw that happen with the terrifying gregor moment (which i have more to say on later) and it could be what happened with dani. perhaps the abomination incapacitated her, therefore feigning memory loss, and went and tore into the hornets.

so, to reiterate, i think this new abomination is targeting amnesty lodge, or is at least working for someone who wants to target amnesty lodge, which leads me to my next point: this abomination will perhaps be the most dangerous one yet

obviously all the abominations are dangerous. and, honestly, most of them were dangerous because of their abstract state. a beastly form that can absorb other animals and become a prime hunter? a water spirit that can infiltrate any place where there’s water? a tree that grows new timelines? it’s all scary bc it’s so inhumane and unpredictable. but this abomination can at least appear human. whether or not to say it actually is, it does a pretty damn good job at looking human.

this abomination has more autonomy than the other three ever could, and i think we’re about to enter a very interesting dichotomy between the monsters in amnesty and the abominations. bc, you know how when someone constantly says “this is fine” and, every time they say it, you believe them less and less? that’s kinda how i feel with mama constantly saying that the abominations and the monsters in kepler are nothing alike. now, i’m not saying that the residents in amnesty are these horrible, abominable creatures. fuck, ned trying to tell mama that when they were dealing with billy is fucking painful bc you can just feel how badly ned fucked up. no, i think we’re about to enter a part of the story where it’s shown that, while the abominations and the amnesty residents are not one in the same, one can become the other a lot easier than anyone else would like.

i think it’s also important to note that, if this is true, it means the abomination knows enough to be able to not just properly target amnesty, but also enough to know what’s going on w/ the pine guard at any time.

which leads me to my next point: i think someone, and perhaps that someone is the abomination, is watching amnesty lodge.

now, quickly, let’s break down the “normal” npcs that are, knowingly or not, involved in what’s going on with amnesty lodge:

leo: ex chosen one, already knows what’s going on, knew for longer than duck did. he already has a major role in the story, so i’m sure he’s fine

pigeon wilson: ngl i kinda forgot abt her, but she knows a lot. but, still, she had her “place” in the story in fighting the monsters, and i don’t think she’d try to target amnesty. if anything, she’d want to get involved w/ the pine guard, but i digress

calvin owens: a high school kid who was attacked and, against his will, dragged into all this shit. i honestly think he’s terrified and doesn’t want to get involved anymore

sheriff owens: knows more than he’s actually aware of, but he’s so fed up with ned and the cryptonomica that i don’t think he believes any of it yet. right now, i think he’s a source of tension in the story.

juno: knows that something is going on bc duck just happened to know that the train-thing was gonna crash. if im being honest, i don’t know enough about her to make a judgement call yet

the hornets: this one’s obvious, but i guess it’s good to note that keith knew the most first, but none of them know what’s fully going on yet

so, all these people (and forgive me if i’m missing some i don’t have the wiki pulled up) are people who have been directly involved one way or another. either they learned something from one or more members of the pine guard, or has taken part in monster hunting, or, in leo’s specific case, was a monster hunter

but there’s one npc left that ik we all love joking abt w/ his apparent obliviousness, but i think we should all start being just a bit more wary of: agent stern

now, this is where i myself am still piecing things together, bc i don’t necessarily think that stern is an abomination or is in cahoots with an abomination or what have you. but, honestly, i wouldn’t be surprised if he knows more than he lets on. bc, listen, i love the “bigfoot’s number one fan, agent stern, is served pancakes by bigfoot every morning and has yet to figure it out” joke just as much as the next person, but i think he might end up knowing a lot more than we think. i mean, for one, he’s living in amnesty, and has been for months. i’m not saying that he saw actual bigfoot walking out of the hotsprings, or opened a wrong door and found thacker, but there’s probably been some close calls.

(okay this is commentary from my proofreading but i just remembered the fucking creepy stunt “thacker” pulled when he seemed to be posessed and talking to aubrey through the speaker and that might be connected, might not be, but i don’t even have time to unpack that)

but, still, that’s not really what i think is happening. i don’t think stern is gonna show up one episode and be like, “aha! i knew it! i have been working with the abominations to figure out what you guys are doing!” no, per se, i think the abomination knows that stern is in amnesty lodge, and that stern works for the FBI in unexplained phenomena, and that stern is currently surrounded by unexplained phenomena.

which leads me to backtrack back to this abomnation: if the theory that i thought about while avoiding my feelings is actually true, this abomination knows a lot. this abomination knows to “become” dani, the explicit vampire in amnesty lodge. it knows that jake used to hang around with the hornets but now there’s some bad blood and, not only that, probably knows that aubrey threatened to burn keith alive (bluffing or not, she still said it). and this abomination is in kepler, home of cryptids and monsters and every other unexplained phenomena. 

but, with all that, this abomination seems to know the pine guard’s plans. like, it knew that they were going to the morgue!!! i don’t think “gregor” actually being not-gregor and the actual gregor being dead and the pine guard being there at that time was not some coincidence!!! whatever this abomination is, and as of rn i think it’s some shapeshifting thing, it knows a lot more than it should.

and then, to tie this all up in a messy bow, my personal thinking as to why this abomination is targeting amnesty lodge is this: to start conflict between the humans and the monsters. griffin has been dropping stuff everywhere about wars that broke out on other planets similar to ours/sylvane. janelle told aubrey that sylvane is not her world to save because of the war it could cause. 

i think abominations have a lot more awareness than we give them credit for, and i think this is how we’re going to start to see it. i think this abomination is following around the pine guard, feigning amnesty residents as suspects, and committing crimes that can be seen as motives because of the devastation it would cause. bc, it was said in the episode w/ regards to the hornets, if people knew that monsters were real and living in the town, would they stop at just the “bad” monsters, or would they do anything to be rid of all of them?

which this, i think, can raise the questions as to why this abomination would want to cause war, or if it’s against sylvane or against kepler or against both worlds in general, but i don’t even know if i’m right in any of this and i don’t want to make this post any longer than it already is

but, still, thanks for coming to my ted talk