#PAMPERED BUT WELL-MEANING NAIVE PRINCESS GOT IT

[miyacults]

begging on my hands and knees for a sequel to the daddy gojo fic but w sugu please please please

a/n: my dear nonnie this is less than u actually deserve but i hope it fuels the stsg daddy agenda im pushing here.

violet, blue, green, red to keep me out… i win.

( ft. suguru geto. )

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

< part one.

wc: 3k (proofread? probably not)

cw: [ 18+ explicit content minors dni ] technically this is part two of a gojo fic (linked above) but can be read individually so no biggie. fem reader (female bodied). teacher!suguru meaning he did not deflect here okay, we’re living a happy life away from the pain. first one was gojo action so this is for geto action only but poly satosugu is clearly implied, that’s the whole point of this basically hehe. daddy kink and daddy dynamic so be very careful! minimal to no prep. unprotected sex. p in v sex. mentions of blood. mentions of death. these two pamper reader too much so reader’s a little spoiled but in the good way. geto is a sweet pretty much. if i forgot anything to put here lemme know. enjoy! <3~

From time to time, Suguru wonders about his soul in genuine distress. Perhaps out of guilt and worry and only in moments like these—well past midnight with bloodied nuckles and heavy footsteps echoing through thin walls, dragging himself up the stairs of the palatial home he and Satoru bought together, with nothing but a familiar sense of anxiety building in his chest. But it’s not like his personal cup of remorse is filled with all the haunting thoughts of the bad things he has done and seen in his life thanks to his sinister line of work, or as if such awful thoughts could actually pull some strings within his untainted heart—because that’s far from being the case.

It’s just—it’s just who he is. The blessing and the curse of being a Sorcerer, of swallowing venom as a whole to save the lives of those who live an ignorant bliss.

White marble stains in scarlet as he approaches his bedroom in silence, mind reflecting on the fact that things should be good now, that everything’s fine and danger has been erased. Any man in love would have handled the situation in the exact way he did, wouldn’t they? He wonders about this, too, quite frequently, and he hates to admit that the question lingers on his brain for far too long for his own liking. It makes him dread the fact that he’s not doing a good job in taking care of you.

Yet it doesn’t matter, as Suguru already knows the answer better than anyone—and he doesn’t qualify much for the kind-hearted-person term (or so he’s been thinking since the last blossom of his youth and the tragedies that showered his naive teen years catches him off guard). But he really doesn’t want to either, because then that would mean that he can’t successfully protect the thing he cares about the most in the world. And he can’t let that happen.

But the look Satoru shoots at him as soon as he opens his bedroom door and finds him sitting comfortably in the wide couch—awaiting his return, as usual—has him breathing correctly again, mind turning back from unwanted ideas that bother him to no end.

“You got busy tonight, huh,” Satoru murmurs quietly, head lolling to the side while scanning his best friend’s tired figure.

“I took care of the scum,”

“And didn’t invite?”

Suguru’s lips turn into a devious smirk, heavy body finally falling between the many soft pillows his large bed has.

“Princess was so upset, needed you to stay by her side,” he resolves quite calmly, dried blood forcing a horrid contrast to his charming features. “If I’m not there to hold her, then you must,”

There’s a silent warning to his words, and Satoru doesn’t have to make an effort to catch it immediately. He already knows it by heart, he always has—he always will.

“She couldn’t stop crying for over an hour anyway,” he ends up retorting sharply instead, hoarse voice weighing a tone of suppressed anger. “Hope you gave the bastard a merciless death,”

How couldn’t he after what he did to you?

The day had started quiet, tranquil—the week itself abnormally peaceful for them. Maybe it was the fleeing summer coercing the unpleasant job of Sorcerers into days of calm, long work hours slowing down and making them believe they couldn’t relax a little bit. So they decided that it would be a good idea to take you to that new coffee shop in Shinjuku you were dying to go lately. And it was fine, of course, you were incredible happy to be outside the walls of home as you hold hands with both them in a sea of smiley people.

Until it wasn’t.

That desolated look on your face when you found yourself trapped into the arms of some Curse User seeking vengeance towards them—Suguru memorized it, because it caused him some undescribable pain he couldn’t possibly explain even if he tried to. His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces at the sight of gleaming tears drying in your cheeks and the sound of broken sobs, garbled whimpers of their names coming out of parted lips as you held onto nothing for balance, unable to stop yourself from breaking down at the fear, the horror, the trepidation it forced your body into a shock.

He couldn’t prevent what happened after they took you back and he tried to calm you down by placing you in Satoru’s lap, hurriedly murmuring something about making it right. It’s gonna be okay, princess, you’re gonna be okay. He won’t hurt you ever again. I’m here to protect you.

Maybe—just maybe—you heard the strained tone that bathed his words in that moment. And maybe you didn’t understand it right away, or maybe you didn’t want to.

Because Suguru has always been there to make things right, and nothing else has to matter when he and Satoru are there to protect you from the dangers of the world.

Like they have devoted themselves to do.

Suguru doesn’t remember the exact time you came into his life—he doesn’t really care to, because he knows you’ve pretty much always been there. He has no idea where do his memories begin or end at, but the teary-doe look of your face has been plaguing the tissues of his brain for so long now he can’t find himself to remember a time where it hasn’t been there.

He remembers his first day at Jujutsu High, during the spring of him being fifteen and you a little less than that, when he saw you adverting everyone’s gaze as you walked behind your mother (an assistant director, of all things) towards the offices in silence—floral dress wrinkly as you seated in some chair and patiently waited for your mom to finish off her work. No complaints but with a huge pout, bored to death.

He remembers the first time Satoru made you cry by telling you you were a weak nuisance (and how he shortly laughed at that), and he remembers the sickening feeling of nausea that infected his stomach shortly after—and he remembers how it didn’t disappeared until he handed you a beverage from the machines and you smiled at him like none of them ever harmed you in the first place.

He remembers you admiring your mother’s ivory dress the day she married principal Yaga, and he remembers the way he took your hand into his to give you a little bit of courage as you and Satoru walked down the aisle side by side, carrying the rings of the newlyweds.

He remembers the winter of Satoru’s eighteenth birthday, when the white-haired man accidentally dropped a box full of the school’s Christmas decorations over you, making you trip down the stairs and hurt your ankle. He remembers the tears that stained his posh pajama pants when you shouted at him—immediately, instantly—crying out his name and seeking comfort. He also remembers the way Satoru moved around you like a lighting bolt, reaching and lifting you up in his arms before Suguru could arrive. Soothing sweet words into your ear, kissing your cheek as he darted a glare in his direction.

He remembers that they both shared the same thought at that moment, even though it was never vocalized.

He remembers how you have always made him feel this sick—as if you’re infesting his body and refusing to let him cure himself off you at all. He remembers because the feeling doesn’t really stops, never has, probably never will, and he has now grow a little too familiar with the lingering explosion of things that do make him feel alive bubbling in his chest. He’s now used to you setting his soul on fire and making him sick.

But it’s special, nonetheless. A sugary sweet method of inflicting pain—as Satoru likes to say.

Because Suguru Geto is not exactly a good person by his own perspective—but he likes to believe he’s a good man to both you and Satoru, for selfish that could be. The kind of man that puts your safety and well-being on top of anything else, the one that ensures both of your happiness above his own. He’s the type of man that allows some of his darkest desires to die in a fire, following what he believes is the right thing to do.

Suguru’s nowhere near salvation—soul too damned to expect something else—yet his heart aches, breaks, and cries blood at the mere thought of not deserving you. He might have made a path down the cursed side of being a Sorcerer with Satoru next to him, making the best of his efforts on keeping you away from that devilish facade of his you haven’t seen yet, and although he’s the one to blame when you finally do, well—he can’t hide anymore. That’s the price that comes with being one of the Strongests.

“Sugu?”

He can hear it clearly, so vivid and bright and sweet it makes him terribly sick all of a sudden. Singsong and gently voice, coated in saccharine sugar echoing through his ears as the most enthralling tone wraps around his name like a prayer, the deliberately long uttering of ‘Sugu’ forcing the curves of his lips to fall abruptly, his heart stopping without notice and an invisible punch to the guts knocking all the air out of his lungs.

“‘Toru, Daddy, where are you?”

Suguru waits—pretends he doesn’t really care as your footsteps sound closer, closer, closer, and his posture maintains, seemingly calm, apparently unbothered, somewhat bored. But, oh, Satoru knows.

Satoru knows as he sits by his side on the obsidian sectional sofa, with legs crossed and arms splayed over the border, that his best friend’s mind is going on a haze, a brand new sense of anxiety crawling under his skin like a thousand bugs eating him alive. Satoru’s almost certain, he’s sure that if he gets a little closer, the violent sounds of Suguru’s heart pounding in alarming violence against his ribs would cause him physical pain. It puts him on edge; the mere thought of his best friend’s reaction at what’s about to happen now.

If it were him, he wouldn’t care. He hadn’t care in the past, actually. Satoru has always been more than happy to let you near the side of him that glows closer to hell than heaven itself.

But Suguru is different, he thinks.

“She’s supposed to be sleeping,” Suguru stares at him blankly, a hint of irritation in his voice. “It’s long past midnight, and she gets all cranky in the morning every time she stays up,”

“She was sleeping,” Satoru stands up, a sigh sliding past his lips while moving to the bedroom door. “But you already know how she gets if she wakes up for water and is all alone in bed. She gets all needy,”

Suguru raises an eyebrow.

“And who’s fault is that, huh?”

“It’s not polite to finger-point, Suguru.”

Both of them stay silent for a bit, carefully paying attention to your sounds. Suguru tuts his tongue when he hears you calling his name near the bathroom hall.

“I’m too bloodied for her to see me like this,”

“Clearly. Just stay there, lemme—,” Satoru scoffs, opening the door and then closing it behind him swiftly before you can catch a glimpse of the inside. “Oi, sweets, what do you think you’re doing out of bed?”

“But ‘Toru,” you complain in a hushed whine. “You left me alone, you know I don’t like that. It didn’t felt warm anymore,”

Suguru can’t see you—all he has is a muffled sound of your distorted voice, and he swears he knows exactly the way your lips are pushing the loveliest pout to ever exist, the way you’re looking at Satoru through sleepy eyelashes as you put your little complaint out.

And he also knows Satoru might have rolled his eyes playfully at the sight, pulling you closer to steal a kiss from your frowned lips.

“So needy, my baby is so needy,”

“Is Suguru not home yet?” you ask slowly, perhaps setting your groggy eyes into Satoru, staring at him with that enamored look they both know too well.

“Do you want Daddy?”

“Yeah, I do,” you snort.

“I’m your Daddy and I’m home, so,”

“I want both,” you giggle softly, so sweetly Suguru can feel his insides melt at the sound of your bubbling laugh.

He’s sure Satoru has you entangled in a hug, probably sneaking his hands all over your body and tickling your sides to pull a smile.

“Oh, your dumb Daddy, too. Alright. I dunno where he is, sweets,” Satoru states, as if.

“How mean, ‘Toru.”

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

“Mean. You’re lying to me.”

Suguru smirks at that. He stands up from the bed and walks towards the door to open it and find you both in the exact position he predicted.

And the look you shoot his way, the frown that forms in your face and your pretty features contract in sudden worry when his frame appears in front of you—it all has his heart pounding like crazy, he feels so loved, he feels so full of you. He feels insatiable.

“Oh,” you let out a little squeal as you shift from Satoru’s embrace and into his, “Sugu, you—”

“Don’t worry much about this, princess,” he mumbles, catching you inside his arms like the world depends on it. “I’m okay.”

But he’s sure you’re crying anyway.

And you don’t even stop to think about the blood. You don’t even care that he reeks of death and violence and Curses as you hold onto him for dear life, with arms that wrap tightly around him and pull him closer, closer, even closer; as lips caress the skin of his neck and little mewls echoe softly against his throat. Pants of I love you, I don’t want anything bad happening to you, I love you, fueling his mind like a bomb ready to launch.

Satoru laughs it off with a devious smile.

“Poor baby, you have her worried sick, Suguru,” he falsely chides. “Guess you gotta make it up to her.”

“Uh-huh,” Suguru nods. “My poor princess, do you want Daddy to make it alright?”

You nod in between heavy breaths, head still buried in his neck. Satoru gives a soft slap to your ass whimsically.

“So needy,” the Strongest murmurs, but he rapidly turns away and aims for the stairs. “I’m gonna go find a snack though, I’m starving. And then I’m gonna prepare a bath so you both can meet me there in a bit,”

Suguru nods.

“Go on. Let me take this princess to bed in the mean time, then we meet you in the bathtub,”

Suguru takes you to his large bed and places you in the middle of many soft pillows cooing in your ear to wash the concern out of you, but you’re reluctant. You cup his face and scan him looking for wounds, soon realizing the ugly streaks of scarlet that stain his face are, in fact, not his. But even then you don’t flinch. Instead, you let your hands wander all over his chest—desperate to pull him into you, to merge your bodies and never letting him go, never separated.

“Oh?” Suguru smiles at your scattered words. There’s still blinks of sleep tugging at your tired eyes, and he can’t help but fondle your face cautiously. “Are we merging with Satoru too, hm?”

You nod, sulky little look fighting sleepiness with all you got.

“Of course, Daddy, always with ‘Toru,”

“That’s right, princess. Always with Satoru,”

You inhale a deep breath. It’s easy for Suguru to notice every little thing about you, so he caught up on your train of thoughts before yourself. You were struggling with some words, biting your lip, eyelashes fluttering, thinking hard about something.

“What is it, baby?” He wonders carefully, hot breath colliding with your face, nose caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he inhales your scent.

“Did you do a bad thing, Sugu?”

The question lingers on his brain for a few seconds, mind resisting on reflecting such thoughts. Yet his expression doesn’t change, he maintains serenity as the brush of skin above yours doesn’t stop. He holds you like a priced possession, like your mere existence could ever absolve the decaying all Sorcerers are damned to. Like you could kiss him and save him, like you could hug him and guard him—as if you could turn blood into holy water or death into salvation.

Maybe you can.

“Will you still love me if I did?” He asks, not dreading the answer.

“I will never stop loving you, Daddy,”

It ignites his body. Fire burns at his fists and he kisses you deeply, mouths meeting around a new heat, with tongues slipping and teeth clashing desperately. He has no intention of letting you catch a break, mouth falling to your neck where he bites at the sensitive skin and causes you to mewl.

“Ow, Suguru, that’s mean,” you grumble, but you part your bare legs anyway when his hands drop and brush at your thighs.

“Can’t help it, princess,” he press a chaste kiss to your lips once more. “You gonna let me play a little with this pretty pussy, yeah?” The words flee his throat in a raspy tone, and his hands don’t stop. He hikes up that oversized cashmere sweater, that can only belong to Satoru, barely above the line of your lacey black panties, enough for him graze it and get a glimpse of your puffy lips against the fabric, awaiting for him. Suguru traces a finger along your cunt, causing you to shiver at the cold digits. “How gorgeous,”

You pant. “But—The bath, Sugu,”

“He can wait a little,” he says into your mouth “Gonna make you feel really good, princess,” he breathes heavily, rocking his hip a little as a thumb strikes tenderly your cunt through your panties.

And he notices right away—in the way you shiver under his touch when he hovers completely above you, how a breathless sigh escapes past your parted lips and your fists grab a handful of his shoulders to attach yourself onto him and make his bulge nudge your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, mouth leaving stray kisses in your neck and already throbbing cock humping your covered pussy through his pants.

“Sugu,” you whine at one particularly hard thrust of his hips, involuntary loud moan reverberating from the back of your throat. “‘Toru,”

“Shh, princess,”

Suguru is fast at parting your panties to the side, and he says there’s no need for prepping you tonight, says it’s gonna be real quick so you can both go back to Satoru—with his cock an angry shade of red as its released free from his trousers and it aims for your tiny hole fast, thrusting in one go. You’re whimpering at how fast it happens, cunt burning at the sudden intrusion since he is usually the one that takes his time to properly prep you to take his cock.

You guess he’s feeling off, so you happily comply if that’ll help him.

“Want you, Sugu, I need you,”

“Ah-ah, my good girl,” he grunts lightly, hands steadying you by the ass as he finally bottoms out. “Can you keep doing that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

A loud hiss vibrates through clenched teeth as you wrap your legs around his hips, head nodding many forms of yes as you inch closer to him in distress.

“That’s it baby, take it pretty,”

“H-Hurts a little, Sugu,” you murmur softly, eyes glued to where he’s slowly sliding in and out.

“I know princess,” he pants. “Give it a minute,” He’s practically caging you shortly after, thrusting up roughly as stretched out walls wrap him and suck him deeply. You’re not given a chance to recover or adjust properly, but the burning does start to fade away. Discomfort grows into pleasure and whimpers turn into soft moans as you bury your face on his neck and his hot breath collides sharply against the shell of your ear. “You’re so brave, my good girl. So pretty, my princess,”

You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, dainty fingers digging the flesh of his shoulders when he grunts. And it doesn’t take long for tears to collect in your eyes as heat floods your body once again, the familiar throb of your clit making you aggravate the hump of your hips so your swollen bud finds a little bit of friction. Suguru doesn’t fail to turn you into a needy mess, strong hand coming to cover the cries emitting from your mouth.

Muffled chants of Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, alongside his hoarse grunts and the lewd slap of skin against skin are the only sounds that fly the room when he cums—bruising fingers grasping your flesh harshly as he paints your walls white, and nearly immediately you’re creaming all over the tip of his sensitive cock firmly pressed against your cervix.

“Not leaving you baby,” he pants out. “Not leaving you at all.”

[secret-engima]

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret DoTF Characterization Rant

OKAY, ME RANT RAMBLING ON LUNA’S CHARACTERIZATION IN DAWN OF THE FUTURE IS A GO.

This is … likely going to get messy, but I’ll try to keep it at least moderately coherent. Lemme start by saying that- for the most part- I did actually enjoy Luna’s chap. I’ve been enjoying the book (kinda-sorta-mostly, I really liked Aranea’s chap at least) and I don’t think it’s like- a BAD book? Necessarily? But I feel like it is extremely telling in regards to how the characterization/lore is treated that my brain is automatically filing this thing under “fanfic that’s not my HC but is okay-ish” rather than “canon I will be gleefully tweaking as I please”. My brain is literally looking at this officially licensed book and equating it to fanfic. To fanfic that NEEDS EDITING.

With that out of the way, lemme attempt to summarize my (main) issues with Luna’s Characterization and then I’ll expand on them from there. Get ready for the salt.

1. Luna’s backstory is inconsistent. She herself states multiple times that Oracle training is grueling and involves both physical and mental trials as well as things like fasting for long periods of time WHILE doing said training, yet she is mostly treated like a well-meaning but overall pampered, naive princess who is only now being forced into hard circumstances and has to adapt accordingly. She is also treated like she doesn’t know “common people” that well and doesn’t know how to interact or pick up things like lies (????). A common example is how she treats Sol as trustworthy but reserved when according to Sol’s POV she is literally debating shooting Luna as a possible threat. And Luna supposedly doesn’t pick up on this danger. But we’ll get back to that.

2. Luna is characterized as being oblivious to how people outside Rich Oracle Circles live. That despite traveling all over the world she has never really seen it’s “ugly” sides because she’s always traveled in fancy guarded processions with the sick brought to her. Pretty sure the book specifically mentions at one point that she’s never “considered” what it would be like to be anything other than an Oracle. Admittedly this issue could go under number 1 or 3a but I’m putting it here because I’m salty.

3a. This and the next problem are heavily intertwined and, not going to lie, I could make an entire rant just about these two issues all by themselves, not just in Luna’s context. The first is that Luna is portrayed as not being able to make her own decisions, not even wanting to make her own decisions, until she is forced to or has her “eyes opened” by Sol, our jaded Long Night survivor character. The author treats Luna’s sense of duty as some form of social brainwashing she needs to “get over” and spoiler alert I hate it with every fiber of my being.

3b. Playing right off the whole “Luna is incapable of making her own decisions and that’s why she does her freaking job until someone ‘opens her eyes’” is the idea that Luna’s faith is a character flaw. Lemme reiterate. The story treats Luna’s faith. As a character flaw. Rather than the entire cornerstone to her character and one of the big reasons she’s as amazing as she is. Her faith is treated as foolish and shortsighted, something that has only survived for this long because it has never been challenged and, heads up, the rant I am going to go into on this one specific thing is going to be long and extremely salty.

Alright I think I’ve covered the basics. Starting from the top, BRING ON THE SALT.

…

1. Luna is pampered, well-meaning but naive and bad at reading ulterior motives of people.

….*slow, deep breath* Luna. The Oracle. Who became the youngest Oracle in history. Because her mother was murdered in front of her while her home was burned down and conquered by the people who then proceeded to rule her country, subvert her brother to their cause, and generally control and monitor every aspect of her life that they could. Luna, who was fully prepared to take a single suitcase and escape her own home and run off alone to get to Altissia and had to be stopped by her own brother (who you’ll note brought a bunch of soldiers with him, which indicates he did not expect a submissive response if he came alone).

This girl who was canonically physically abused as a child by a Niflheim officer (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZHzBtIfpdg slow this down if you need to confirm, but she is grabbed and manhandled and hit by an adult man when she only looks to be twelve, around the age Tenebrae first fell), who has spent twelve years living under the rule of a nation that is not only aggressively atheist but has willfully attempted to kill one of the very beings she serves and openly plans to do so again. The woman who successfully survived the fall of Insomnia with only one magic-less glaive as her backup for most of the event, then evaded the search efforts of an entire empire with only her own wits, a dog, a Messenger who has only ever been shown to talk rather than fight, and the extremely grudging on-off help of her brother who works for said empire. All while waking up the Astrals and forging covenants that were slowly killing her from the strain, which is the exact thing the empire was trying to prevent her from doing. Then, when it became necessary to complete the last covenant, turned herself in to the very same empire that has imprisoned her since she was a child and has been actively hunting/trying to stop or kill her since Insomnia’s fall.

That girl. Is pampered. Is naive. Is bad at reading people and telling when they have ulterior motives or are lying.

Pull the other one. I’ll kick you.

But seriously, how are we supposed to believe this? Luna’s life post Tenebrae’s fall to Niflheim is only pampered in the sense that she was given fancy clothes and fed regularly (outside the grueling fasting periods mentioned in this same book). She had no freedom, no privacy, her guards were all either men who wore the same uniform as those who killed her mother or were monsters infected with the very scourge she is sworn to purify. The Oracle is famous, is revered by the people. To keep the people on their side, the Empire would have flaunted her, would have taken her to all the shiny events. Luna would have had to dine with, converse with, even dance with the very same people who ordered and condoned the murder of her mother, her own imprisonment, and the brainwashing of her own brother to the enemy side. She would have been the epitome of a bird in a gilded cage or a dog on a silk leash and humans are not meant to live like that.

Am I really expected to think she survived a situation that oppressive, that toxic, that actively hurtful, for years by being naive and bad at reading people? Am I really expected to believe that she cannot tell when people are out to use her or hurt her or are lying to her? Am I really expected to believe that she is pampered and doesn’t have, at the very least, PTSD from seeing her mother murdered and her brother join the very people who did it, let alone everything else that would have followed over those years?

Really?

Luna didn’t have a pampered life. She suffered abuse. Longterm emotional abuse, likely sporadic physical abuse until she learned to play along well enough to escape such punishments, and almost certainly gaslighting (again: religious leader being held captive by an aggressively atheist nation that wants to kill the pantheon this religious leader communes with).

Luna would have learned to navigate the canonically cutthroat politics of Niflheim while being at best an outsider and at worst a target because of her beliefs, her nationality, and her loyalties to the Lucians (nobody was surprised when Luna went on the run. Nobody. Her continued devotion and loyalty to the Lucians -Niflheim’s enemy- was absolutely a well known factor). She would have learned to pick truth from lie and when to pretend she hadn’t noticed in order to survive. She would have lived twelve years knowing that any mistakes or misplaced moments of trust would be paid for in either her suffering of the suffering of the people close to her like her servants, or just the citizens of Tenebrae in general.

And none of this is taking into account her Oracle training, which the book does not elaborate on but repeatedly states was hard and grueling and she completed it years earlier than any Oracle in history.

There are a lot of words I would use to describe Luna, but pampered and naive are not among them.

…

2. Luna is oblivious to how people outside her rich circles live and has never considered being anything else but an Oracle until Sol specifically points it out.

The book states that she mostly travels in procession (ie, with tons of servants to serve her every need and bodyguards to keep the masses at bay) so clearly she can’t go anywhere too dangerous, otherwise her servants wouldn’t be able to come. Right? Oh boy where do I start with this.

I know! Let’s start with the fact that Luna canonically maintains the blessings on Havens! You know those things. They’re your only safe place to camp at night and they can be found in all sorts of nifty locations like the middle of the wilderness where cars can’t go, chocobos won’t go, packs of wild animals will literally leap out of the bushes to eat you (Voretooth packs can get up to twelve or more members all trying to eat you at once, fun fact), and poor choice in clothes will lead to broken ankles at best? The ones that can be found in the depths of locations so dangerous that even the Hunters are leary of going inside and are actively forbidden from approaching unless they are a very high rank?

Off the top of my head some of the Havens that come to mind is the one in the middle of Malmalam thicket, the top of an active volcano, multiple spots in the middle of the voretooth and coeurl infested desert, two up in Vesperpool aka the home of all demon crocodiles and flocks of cockatrice that are bigger than the average car and can literally turn you into stone if you aren’t careful.

Yeah those places. She maintains those. Depending on how often Havens need to be maintained and if the weather/nature shortens that time then she might also have to periodically enter the dungeons Noctis explores in game that also have Havens hidden inside where it is always dark all the time and infested with daemons.

The book also states that the sick (who are highly infectious and not supposed to be touched by people who can’t heal the scourge and in the later stages of sickness become extremely violent and prone to biting in order to infect other people) are … brought to her…

By whom? Exactly?

Moving on from that giant and obvious plot hole to the “never seen or considered other lifestyles” bit: Luna has traveled literally all over the world. In her duties of healing the otherwise incurable she has gone all over Niflheim, Tenebrae, and Lucis. She has walked through the streets of cities filled with lights and glamor and stood on the dirt roads of towns so small they have to go to the next town an hour or more away to buy groceries or check their mailbox and who’s royal hotel suite is just a caravan with a new coat of paint and “welcome Oracle!” sign. Luna’s work is to cure the Starscourge, which is a disease that I can almost promise the rich don’t get. Because the rich and fancy do not risk their lives by going into daemon territory (Prompto, a middle class Insomnian, didn’t even know what wild animals would be like, you expect the rich and famous to be any better?).

The vast majority of Luna’s patients would be people like Dave the Hunter, or Sania the scientist who wades into the wilds. The truck drivers and the farmers and the electricians risking their lives to repair power lines in the middle of nowhere. She wouldn’t be going to cities except to talk to the refugees who fled there from the outside and thus picked up the Scourge. Her only two social circles would be Niflheim’s cutthroat nobility and the “unwashed masses” who come to her for healing. Guess which ones she’ll be more invested in getting to know on a personal/friendly basis and interacting with.

Of course Luna has interacted with and understands “common folk”. Luna is a caregiver, not just physically, but emotionally. She is beloved by the people because she is kind. That means she talks to them. More importantly, she listens. She has held the hands of the farmer as he begs her to heal him, because the harvest season is so close, and if he can’t work, if he dies, then what will become of his wife or the people his farm feeds? She has embraced the sobbing refugee mother as the other breaks down in gratitude for a child who’s skin is a healthy shade and who’s veins no longer bulge a sickly purple. She has met people who are not rich, but who are content. Who have lives that do not hinge on the razor thin dance of staying true to self and not exposing weakness to those who want to eat her alive. Who can laugh with their neighbors and kiss that nice boy down the street just for the fun of it, who can defy curfew to dance in the rain with the person they love and risk, at most, a lecture and a weekend grounding.

And no, they aren’t rich, no, they aren’t influential or powerful, but they are peaceful. They are happy.

Am I really expected to believe that Luna has not looked on these people’s lives from afar, listened to their rambles as they try to distract themselves from the sickness she is drawing from their veins, and not yearned to be the same? That she hasn’t thought over and over again about running away and being free from her gilded cage? That she doesn’t know anything about the lives of the people she heals even as she walks down their streets and steps into their houses so she can heal those who are too sick or too violent to be safely taken out of their room? That she has never thought about what life could be like if she wasn’t an Oracle as she watches the landscape roll by and walks through the wilderness to find the lonely farmsteads that the townsfolk tell her has sick children that cannot be let out of the shed for fear they will bite?

Setting all of that to one side, what human hasn’t thought of being someone else? What person on this planet, hasn’t looked at another person’s life that is so very different from their own and gone “huh, I wonder what that would be like” even if only for a moment before moving on and forgetting about it? Humans are creatures that dream by nature, that are curious by nature. To assume that Luna is not just because she gets to have the fancy dresses and servants is stupid.

…

3a: Luna is unable to make her own decisions and is only the dutiful Oracle because she doesn’t know any better and needs a “wiser” rebellious character to “open her eyes”.

Okay buckle up. I have tried to suppress the salt until now but over these last two points I don’t care. I will be salty. I will be sarcastic. I will be mean. I will reference Real World faiths (tho I’ll try to keep that to a minimum).

Both 3a and 3b are actually systemic issues in storytelling (particularly noticeable in movies/shows but maybe that’s because I’m pretty lucky with my book choices) that I despise with a passion. Specifically 3a relates to the chronic issue writers seem to have with characters not being allowed to be happy with their role in life. There’s this persistent thought, this narrative push, that if a character is following in the footsteps of their family, is entering the “traditional” profession that their parents (or grandparents, or entire generations of predecessors) have been in before them then they must be unhappy with their lot in life. That this is clearly the character being “repressed” and that if they are content then they are either a bad guy (see: every antagonist from a proud military family or every ruler who thinks they are better than everyone because of bloodline ever) or they are just blind to their own unhappiness.

Now, the basic idea of “character discovers they are unhappy in current role and seeks a new one” can actually be done really well. But those stories that do it well have a lot of internal conflict, a lot of self-reflection and searching and choosing to take a new path after really giving it some thought. Maybe they have help along the way, or encouragement, or another character to show that it’s possible by example and that’s okay.

What is not okay is infantilizing a strong, intelligent character by saying “oh it just never occurred to them until they are told that they are unhappy by this much more worldly wise character and then they went and did it”. That is not okay. It not only trivializes the efforts of every real person who has proudly followed in a parent’s footsteps to become something (a doctor, a missionary, a soldier, an actor, even an electrician, pick a life goal and I promise someone has been inspired to do that by their parent being one before them) but it also takes an otherwise strong, dedicated character and implies that they are too stupid to think for themselves or have any free will until the plot and a Shinier Character demands it.

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret is an Oracle, as her mother was before her, and her mother before her, and all the way back two thousand years to the very first Oracle we see in canon. Possibly back even farther, depending on if any of Aera’s ancestors were Oracles too. That isn’t a suffocating tradition, that is a heritage, that is a culture, that is a necessary, life-saving service that canon proves literally kept the world from falling into eternal darkness (Luna was the last Oracle, the day after she dies is literally the last time we players see sunlight until the end of the game when Noctis dies to restore it). Luna is not stupid or repressed for following in those footsteps, she is breathtakingly strong for shouldering her heritage as the Last Oracle with pride even when the forces controlling every other aspect of her life want her to be ashamed of it and give it up.

The empire that took over her home when she was twelve are actively anti-magic and anti-Astral. Luna is someone who speaks to the Astrals and is born with a magic that can heal the very sickness they want to weaponize. They couldn’t outright forbid her from training to be the next Oracle because that would cause the people to riot, but they could and absolutely would try to make her give up in any way they could. They would have insulted her, demeaned her, hurt her, and imprisoned her. They wouldn’t have wanted a “real” Oracle, they would have wanted a puppet who said pretty promises and then did nothing to stop them.

It would have been so easy for Luna to go down the same path her brother did. To give in to the empire and it’s propaganda that she would have been forced to listen to every single day of her life for twelve whole years. It would have made her life so much easier to be a puppet Oracle who didn’t have to walk miles through the wilderness to maintain Havens, or defy the empire by maintaining loyalty to Lucis, or leave her manor home to heal the sick that could not come to her themselves. As a puppet Oracle she could have stayed in the Manor and only treated cases that could reach her doors and were vetted by the empire. She could have eaten the finest foods and worn the best dresses and never had to worry about a pack of hungry Voretooths or a rogue Behemoth tearing her apart. Most of all, Niflheim wouldn’t have been nearly as oppressive or violent. They would have gladly given her the illusion of freedom and control as long as she played along rather than been fully willing and prepared to run into the jungle with a suitcase just to escape as seen in the movie.

Luna was not blindly fitting into a mold and she was not and has never been incapable of making a decision. The fact that she shows up in canon as a strong, dedicated woman who is in control of her emotions and not afraid to face down a giant sea monster with the power to summon tidal waves with just her words and a glorified pointy stick proves that. The idea that she needs a “wiser” character to come alongside her and “free her” from her own duties is not only stupid, it undermines one of the key things that makes Luna such a strong character despite her relative lack of screentime.

Furthermore, canonically, one of Luna’s main reasons for sticking with her duty as Oracle isn’t because it’s tradition, it’s because of what Niflheim did. In the Kingsglaive movie, when Nyx Ulric is getting angry at Luna for doing really reckless, life-threatening things, she tells him quote:

“I do not fear death. What I fear is doing nothing and losing everything.”

That’s not a woman who is blindly following a path laid out for her. That is a woman who is desperately, furiously fighting against the people who killed her mother in front of her the best way she can: by being the Oracle they cannot stand for her to be.

But sure. Luna is only the Oracle because she doesn’t know better and it never occurred to her to be anything else until some jaded kid with a shotgun made a snide comment about it.

3b: Luna’s faith is a character flaw that has only survived this long because it wasn’t challenged by a worldly wise character who knows better.

Not going to lie but words cannot express how much I hate this trope. This is another thing that shows up a lot in television/movies but also in books too, and that is that a character is not allowed to have a faith in something/religion unless they are 1. Foolish, 2. Brainwashed/tricked into it, 3. A crazy fanatic, or 4. It’s a character flaw they have to overcome by becoming more jaded and atheist and hateful.

Because … that’s not how it works. There are- millions (billions) of people all over the real world who are intelligent, well educated, thoughtful, kind, and religious. And no I’m not just talking about Christianity (tho I am Christian so you can see why this trope grinds my gears so hard). There’s Hinduism, there’s Islam, there’s Buddhism, there’s Judaism, there’s so many faiths and belief systems okay. And no we don’t tend to play well with each other or accept the validity of the others but that doesn’t mean we’re fanatics or brainwashed or stupid. And no we really don’t appreciate it when media introduces a character who follows a religion (even fictional ones!) only to make them an antagonist or rip it away from them in the name of “improving their character”. Just like every other cultural group ever who really doesn’t like their heritage and culture being used as a butt of jokes or is turned into a caricature or used as the basis for the antagonist being Evil™.

But no. We can’t possibly have a character who’s faith makes them strong or gives them comfort in times of hardship unless they are deluded. We can’t possibly have a character who is both intelligent and faithful. We can’t possibly show a character who is breathtakingly courageous and selfless as well as religious unless we point at their faith and go oh look a horrible character flaw to overcome by having non-believer characters open their eyes via sarcastic commentary.

And look. Look. I am well aware that the plot of Dawn of the Future has Bahamut as the Bad Guy™. I am fully aware of that. But if you want to be purely honest and technical, that doesn’t invalidate Luna’s faith because (spoilers) the other Astrals fight Bahamut to save the world. They hear her cries and the come to fight on behalf of Lucis and Noctis and all of Eos and they kill Bahamut even when that ensures their own destruction.

But we’re not actually here to talk about whether the Astrals deserve Luna’s faith in them, we’re here to talk about why insisting Luna’s faith is, by nature of being a faith, treated like a flaw and why it is treated like something so weak it only survived to this point because Luna didn’t face anything “bad” enough to “snap her out of it”.

Spoiler alert, it’s not a flaw and it’s not weak.

Going back to something I have mentioned several times already: Niflheim is an empire run by people who actively want to kill the very beings most of the planetary population worships. The very same people in charge of Luna’s life for twelve years, starting from when she was twelve and very emotionally vulnerable and traumatized, hate the Astrals. I repeat: They hate the Astrals. They have devised weapons to try (and spectacularly fail) to kill them. Half their continent is a winter nightmare-land because they tried to kill Shiva the Glacian and she went “haha, nice try, lemme leave a fake corpse here that constantly pumps out freezing temperatures and blizzards”.

Am I seriously, honestly, supposed to believe that these people didn’t try to tear down her faith at every single opportunity? That Ravus wouldn’t have tried to bully and cajole and harass her into abandoning her faith because he knew that her faith was what kept her walking her chosen path as Oracle and that said path was destined to kill her? Am I seriously supposed to believe that Luna didn’t spend those twelve years having to sit there and bite her tongue to keep from raging at these cutthroat nobles as they gloated and sneered and spat on the names of the Astrals who gave Luna the very magic she uses to heal those in need?

Luna never needed Sol to come along and say “what have the Astrals ever done for you?” because I promise that she’s heard some variation of that exact phrase from everyone in her life. From her own brother to the Emperor himself she has heard some form of this question, this taunt. In the Kingsglaive movie, General Glauca even says something to the order of, “To what god do you pray? The gods do not listen.” Right before he kidnaps her.

Luna’s faith isn’t something blind, and it is not a flaw. It is a cornerstone of her character. Luna’s faith is a bloody, stubborn, tenacious thing that she has nurtured and shored up and been steadied by through twelve years of emotional abuse and physical imprisonment. Luna’s faith is an unshakeable thing that can only come from long nights spent crying into the silent dark of the room and asking “is this real? Am I right? Should I give up? This hurts so much, what do I do?” and finding the answer to be “yes this is real. Yes I am right. No, I won’t give up even though it kills me. Yes it hurts, but what I believe in is stronger than this pain.”

Faith is not optimism and it is not fanaticism. Optimism can be broken by hardship and fanaticism has no room for selfless kindness or acceptance of other people not being as devoted as they are. Faith is personal. Faith is a bedrock, and maybe it’s a bedrock that makes no sense to people on the outside, but it is a bedrock and it can make mountains move.

Just as Luna proves when she runs rings around an Empire to win the respect and cooperation of Titan and of Ramuh, to stand amid the rain and tell an enraged TideMother that “it is in mercy that men offer praise, and in shedding grace that the gods solicit worship” and not flinch because she knows she is right.

Luna’s faith is a fierce, scarred thing that has taken every kind of suppression and propaganda and poison the empire could throw at it and kept on going.

Furthermore. Luna’s faith is treated by Sol as something empty. Because when did the Astrals ever help her or comfort her or save her?

I can answer that. They helped her when they gave her Umbra and Pryna, who kept her company through her life and gave her a way to talk to Noctis. A way to reach out to a person who was not either imperial, warped by imperial propaganda, or too afraid to speak out against the empire for fear of dying. They comforted her when Gentiana became a second mother for Luna after the death of Queen Sylva. A physical shoulder to cry on, a sounding board to bounce fears off of, a well of advice when it was asked of her, a rock to retreat to when Ravus turned away from her and the empire continued to control as much of her life as they could.

Gentiana, who is really Shiva in disguise, has been with Luna since she was a small child.

One of the Astrals themselves has been with Luna for almost her entire life. Has guided her, has comforted her, has led her to safety as she fled Insomnia’s ruins.

Shiva had no reason to do that. The Oracles have done their duty since the time of Aera without her help or company. Shiva didn’t have to stay. She didn’t have to linger and offer comfort and become Luna’s friend. She didn’t have to listen to the last words of a scared young woman who wanted only to see her fiancé one last time and promise to carry them to Noctis in the event of her death. Shiva didn’t have to cry on behalf of Luna. Shiva didn’t have to help Luna remember what it was like to be an ordinary woman (“Yet others need not hide their grief. Is she [Luna] so different from them?”), and in fact, if Shiva had played up to most of the stereotypes, she would have done the opposite and done her hardest to suppress any part of Luna’s personality that wasn’t her Oracle duties.

But she did. Shiva was there, and she remembered. Shiva loved and we as a fandom may yell at the Astrals a lot for not doing more to take care of the Starscourge, but of all of them Shiva gave the most because she came down and she lived, and walked, and loved this Oracle, this scared child, this frightened, weary woman who couldn’t even turn to her own family for comfort. Shiva’s husband Ifrit was betrayed by humankind and yet Shiva still defended them, she kills Ifrit to protect the man (the king) that Luna loved.

And at the end of the game, in those final moments outside the Citadel, when it’s just Noctis and his Retinue against all of Ardyn’s armies of daemons, when Luna calls out to these Astrals whom she has remained faithful to her entire life, even unto her death…

They answer.

Every. Last. Astral. Who is not corrupted like Ifrit, comes down at her prayer and fights. Even Leviathan who’s only voiced lines are screaming wrath against the humanity that forgot her, even Bahamut who otherwise remains aloof in his plane of magic beyond the concerns of the mortal world. Luna calls, and they answer her.

“What have the Astrals ever done for her” indeed.

Luna’s faith is a driving force of her character, it is irrevocably intertwined with her duty, with her choices, with her desire to help people and save the world even if it costs her own life, and in the end her faith is rewarded. Not in the way we want for her, because we love the ultimate happy endings where everyone lives and nobody dies. But Final Fantasy XV was never a story about happy endings. It was a story about coming of age, and tragedy, and sacrifice. Of holding onto hope against all opposition, and of having faith that someday the dawn will return, even if bringing about that dawn requires personal sacrifice.

…

Okay this is over 5k words, I’m tired, and I’m extremely salty so I can’t really figure out how to wrap this up but there we go, my salty personal rant about why I think Dawn of the Future messed up some really critical parts of Luna’s characterization and why it’s Really Bad that they messed up those specific things.

Also I kinda despise them making Bahamut the bad guy in DotF because yes he’s a jerk and yes he really could have done the whole Prophecy thing a ton better, but in the original FFXV one of the things that made the game so heartbreakingly tragic to me is that most of the characters involved weren’t pure evil. They could be greedy, and flawed, and crazy, but in the end the source of the problem was too big to pin on one character.

Do you pin the entire thing on the god of war for his mistakes in trying to bring about peace, or the god of fire for trying to destroy humanity and no longer being there to do his job and purify the plague? Do you blame the Astrals for their hubris or humanity for theirs, because Ifrit loved humanity until they betrayed him so deeply he went mad? Do you hate Ardyn for causing the Long Night or pity him for being a victim of Somnus’s greed? Can you blame Somnus for everything even though the Scourge was going on long before him and kept spreading long after he sealed Ardyn away? The whole thing is a tragedy because at this point it’s a problem too big to fix without someone paying a price too heavy and we hate that because the characters who pay that price are the ones we grow to love over the game.

But that is an entirely different rant for an entirely different day when I am not so tired and my hands no longer hurt from writing this much in one sitting. Thank you and good night.

[angelguk]

the one where jeongguk was your best friend until uni hit and you drifted apart. you hadn’t thought about him and you didn’t think he thought about you. until one day you walk into a bathroom that felt more like a closet full of skeletons. oc is ?????? about jk. there’s angst folks! 1.6k words. listen to safe place by kiana v

You didn’t even want to go out. At all. Jaehwa’s the one who forced you out of your comfortable nest of solitude. Why would you want to leave your cosy apartment when you could binge-watch all of Avatar: The Last Airbender uninterrupted? But she’d insisted, and because you had a tiny soft spot for her adorable whiny face you’d relented. She’d painted your face, squealing in delight at the prospect of finally being able to play with glittering golds and wispy dark tones on your eyes. She had enough pallets stacked in her room to build a house, although you never commented on her obsession with make-up since it was literally what she did for a living. A part of you was thrilled too, brain already organising an outfit that corresponded with the look Jaehwa had granted you. It’s not like you never went out; you had your fair share of wild nights during the course of university but fourth-year had taken a toll on your social life. When you had the energy, you’d rather do something simple like attempt a Nigella Lawson recipe (which — by luck — worked well most days), or stare at your ceiling while listening to your favourite songs from high school on repeat, longing for the time when the future didn’t feel like a great big abyss on the verge of swallowing you whole.

Everything felt right when you left, both of you giggling into the sweet summer air, your arms intertwined and your breaths tinged with tequila. She’d kept murmuring about her current infatuation, the glitter in her eyes brighter than the evening stars scattered above. Every time she mentioned his name, her cheeks flushed rose, features a picture-perfect image of contentment. The love that radiated off her made your lips twitch in a smile. You’re ecstatic that she’s found someone who makes her feel like that; Jaehwa had been through too many messy relationships with people that didn’t deserve her kind heart. If anything you just wanted to meet the guy to warn him that if he was going to worm his way into your roommate's life, he better treat her well. You didn’t even know his name yet, but you wouldn’t hesitate to punch him right in the face if he didn’t handle her with care.

That is until you met him.

You didn’t mind that Jaehwa vanished at some point during the party. It was given considering that you were both aware her new partner was coming here tonight too. You knew the hosts well enough to linger in the living room, Jimin splayed out on top of you as he slurred out another anecdote that left you laughing into the cushions of his couch, the grin on your lips delirious. The drinks were endless too, overflowing from your cup as he tipped them down your throat. It didn’t take long before you were squeezing your thighs together, eyes spying for a moment to break away and head to the bathroom. But Jimin was persistent, his knee nudging against your bladder more often than you’d like. Until Taehyung appeared. An individual you vaguely knew but Jimin adored him. You broke away the moment the two collided, scampering off upstairs as quickly as your comprising saunter would allow.

You didn’t think as you kicked open the door, your brain focused on finding the nearest toilet. But then your eyes fell upon on a scene that seared itself into your memory.

He’s got his hands on her, deft fingers buried in between her legs and his lips latched onto the span of her neck. You hear the crack in your heart, so loud that it rumbles in your head, a warning for what’s to come. You know it’s Jaehwa, the little flustered laugh that drifts from her rosy lips nothing but evidence for your suspicions. It’s worse because you know exactly who she’s with. How could you forget him; from the broad span of his shoulder to the soft chestnut curls that gather atop his perfect head like a halo. It’s like your insides are spilling out, vision hot with wetness you didn’t know was pooling there until he turns, gaze descending on you with disinterest.

That changes swiftly, the flash of recognition that sparks in his honey eyes ripping your heart out of your chest. It tumbles to the floor, forlorn, an emptiness eating you alive.

“Sorry,” you croak out, tearing your eyes from him.

“No, no, it’s okay!” Jaehwa shifts, flustered but there is no trace of shame in her moment. She tugs her skirt down playfully, unbothered by the trail of your gaze. You just clocked that she wasn’t wearing any underwear in the first place. “Um — uh. I’m sorry, this is so awkward, I didn’t want you guys to meet like this.”

His eyes snap onto her, jaw tight. You can’t help but swallow hard, the jumble of words in your throat demanding to be released. They claw and scratch, harsh and vengeful. You swallow again, shaking your head, the forced smile on your lips courteous. “Don’t worry about it."

She jumps into an introduction then, pretending like his hands weren’t working her open mere moments ago, while the two of you stare at each other; strangers who weren’t strangers. You take the chance to observe him, ignoring the delight colouring her voice when she says his name, your gut twisting with contempt. Somehow, he’s gotten buffer, his broad figure evident even with the loose black top billowing from his frame. His hair is longer too, cascading from his scalp in delicate ringlets that you would have gingerly brushed back if you could touch him again. His eyes are the same though, doleful, wide, with an innocence that spurs you to take him under your wing, pamper him like the prince he was.

He should be with Jaehwa — she's a princess in her own right. Even in the dim light of the bathroom, you can see how well their bodies slot against each other; her fragile frame a direct contrast to his broad one. His arm is slung around her waist too, tugging her close like he used to do with you.

You don’t know why this hurts. You attribute it to the alcohol trickling through your system.

“Hi Jeongguk,” you say softly, the feeling of his name on your tongue is foreign. You distinctly remember the last time you said it. A long hurtful fight that left the two of you standing on opposite plains, staring as the long-standing bridge between the two of you burst into flames. “Nice to meet you.”

He nods, curls swaying with the moment. “Likewise. I guess you need to use the bathroom?” His hand slips into her’s. You feel like you’re sinking. But you nod, give them another false smile. The exchange is brief, Jeongguk already tenderly drawing Jaehwa out the door. “Apologies for hogging it. Didn’t mean to,” he says. Jaehwa mutters another apology as they leave. The air around you sticks to your skin, squeezing your lungs tight.

“Come find me later, okay? I want you guys to be friends! You’d be great friends!” She’s so animated you’re not sure how to squash her pipe dreams without hurting her. You and Jeongguk being friends? That was nothing but a castle in the sky. But you promise to find her, shutting the door gently, even though your fingers itch to slam it in their faces.

You don’t know how your feet make it to the toilet, but you collapse on top of it after swinging the cover down. Your head meets your knees next, the waves of emotions inside of you rolling and crashing into each other with a violence that makes you feel sick. The bile in your throat is bitter, tasting exactly like the resentful words on your tongue. The universe must despise you. That’s the conclusion you reach, body cold as you curl into yourself. How you managed to bump into the one individual you managed to avoid for nearly three years straight was nothing but a calamity you didn’t deserve. And the fact that he was with Jaehwa? The one person you treasured more than anything. Jaehwa had helped you find yourself after Jeongguk had left you in shatters.  You wish you told her his name — maybe this could never have happened.

The pain spiking in your heart refuses to wane, cruel with its clamour for acknowledgement. You could leave, flee from Jimin’s place and return to the sanctuary of seclusion waiting for you under your bed cover. But if you left Jaehwa would be hurt. And Jeongguk would know you’d gone because of him. Even if you loathe him, even if he caused you enough pain to last a lifetime, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction that he’d gotten the best of you again. But how on Earth could you explain to Jaehwa that her lover was none other than the boy whose name you never said? The boy who trampled over you like you meant nothing to him. The boy who was your first friend ever, who kissed your cuts and bruises when you were in elementary and saved a seat for you beside him during your joint library lessons. The boy whose bed you’d started your first period on, who punched any asshole who was rude to you, who carried spare headbands in his pocket in case yours snapped or you lost one as you were prone to do. The boy who baked you a cupcake for your birthday every year, who made you laugh and cry and scream with joy when he attacked you with tickles. The boy you thought you knew until you landed here, young adults naive in their navigation of the world. The boy who was your best friend - until one day he wasn’t.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 11

Yep this is a long one, and I’m sorry since it’s mainly an exposition chapter. But I was trying to set up familial ties and character dynamics and inner conflict so it kinda came out like this...Though I’ll admit it may not be the best, I still enjoy it and I hope you do too. Especially with the obscure references. I hope someone can guess whose children, the new characters that appear at the very end are. 

“Did you get any news last night?” Aziz sighed when he saw Jordan’s pinched frown.

It was early dawn and the small group was waking up to the smell of stale coffee, the garbage cans, and preparing to start the day.

They had been at it for four days now. Jordan, Jay in his goon disguise Calix magicked up for him, and Calix would leave to meet Uma at the castle and look around for any important documents and spy, always coming back around midnight or later when he and Lala were already fast asleep from full day of frustration and confusion.

Their days were like the blind leading the blind since Aziz didn’t know anything or anyone here, and Lala didn’t frequent the urban section of the Isle enough to know who to potential recruit or where anything was.

They did the best they could with mixed results. Asking questions like “Where is the Aladdin-hating club?” or “Do you want to overthrow tyranny?” was met with suspicion. To be fair, most questions Aziz asked were met with suspicion, even what he thought were innocent ones like the bathroom. He still hadn’t got an answer to that last one and he was a bit concerned.

They had tried following particularly bad-tempered and miserable folks to see if they could be goaded into joining a revolution, but it was clear that no matter how unhappy people were, they weren’t willing to fight against the Coven.

Yesterday, they broke through with one small lead. That lots of minor followers like the Forty Thieves and Hun soldiers, and Hook’s crew liked to go to Gaston’s bar, and tended to have loose lips about their bosses’ going-ons after three kegs of beer. Aziz was hoping in their alcohol-fueled state, they would divulge where to find big guns like Clayton or Morgana. Or at least rile them up to join their people’s revolt.

Jay stretched and yawned, and rubbed the dusty window pane that showed the backroom of Jafar’s Junk Shop. The alleyway behind it was their current sleeping place.

Aziz had wanted to ask why they didn’t just sleep inside since it had been confirmed that the Coven members rarely left Maleficent’s castle and that Jafar’s Junk Shop had been closed for weeks. There was no chance of them getting caught but he sensed that would be a sensitive topic.

There was a certain sort of sadness, nostalgia and perhaps even fear that crossed Jay’s face whenever he peered through the windows which was quite often. Usually when he thought no one was looking.

But Aziz was always observing people around him. He just found it fascinating to watch people’s quirks. Those quirks were always so telling of what people, and usually hinted at something going on beneath the surface of those perfect princess smiles or in this case, the suave confidence of a thief.

From what little he knew of Jay’s relationship with his father was that though Jafar had been neglectful, Jay had idolized the man and was still having a hard time breaking away from all the lessons he had been taught and encouraged over the years such as focusing on himself and viewing relationships as a give-and-take rather than a bond of mutual trust and equality.

Perhaps Jay was remembering his childhood sitting in that junk shop with useless shiny baubles, waiting for praise to be turned away to  get something better.

But Aziz’ thoughtful imaginings of the potential inner workings of Jay’s mind soured as he saw Jay take another discreet glance around the group to see if anyone was watching, looked directly past him, and then turned to look through the window again.

Maybe Jay did know Aziz was watching but didn’t care.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone looked right through Aziz. After all, he was apparently a forgettable despite the prestige behind his parentage and what he thought were moderately sizzling good looks.

Very rarely was he featured in Auradon news. Is name was always behind more well-known princes like Chad and Ben or even behind Doug since the media loved the story of the Evil Queen’s daughter falling in love with a dwarf.

It was the same in his own kingdom. He was the third child, third for the throne. Well, second since Zahrat formally relinquished any rights to becoming sultana to Cassima. And he doubted Cassima would ever tire of the job of being Sultana.

It was not like he wanted to be Sultan, but since he was not heir to the throne, people didn’t pay much attention. He wasn’t like the other princes who had royal training for ruling and their marriages and lives planned out.

He was on his own, and his pursuits of parkour, and people-watching and the occasional theft was not that interesting enough to make him stand out.

Unless it was Jay who did it. When Jay did parkour or thievery, people immediately noticed it was he. People easily recognized his swagger and smirk.

Whereas he was a pale imitation of his father, and inferior skill set to Jay to boot.

That’s why Jordan chose him to scour the streets of the Isle without a disguise. In her words, “Aziz you’re great at blending in with a crowd, no one will even notice you. They’ll just think you’re the son of one of the forty thieves or something.”

He blended with the crowd. He looked like any other prince. Like any other thief. Forgettable.

“Day 4 of Castle Reconnaissance has brought no new results. It sucks.” Jordan sighed dramatically, and turned around to pace by the dead-end of the alleyway, tapping at the earchip Carlos had given her. “I’m going to talk Ben and Evie,and see what we should do next if results don’t come quickly.”

“Fine, can you at least give me some baklava before I head out?” Aziz asked which Jordan casually did with a snap of her fingers and a warm piece of baklava appeared in his hands.

“Oh, you’re talking to Ben and Evie. What did the say about Uma?” Jay jumped up to join her and Aziz rolled his eyes.

Jay was still admentally against Jordan’s decision to team up with Uma, and had been hoping the two would agree with him that it was a bad decision and no matter what happened, they wouldn’t help her or Harry or the rest of her crew off the Isle.

However, Ben and Evie both were of the mind to give Uma, and her crew a chance since Ben felt like she had a valid point of how he had broken his pledge to invite other kids off the Isle. Evie believed that every teen on the Isle deserved a chance to grow their potential in Auradon, and that everyone included Uma.

Aziz did agree with Jay that it was probably a bad idea to trust Uma, and an even worse one to promise her a chance to go to Auradon, but he trusted Jordan more. She wasn’t naive, and she undoubtedly was inwardly preparing herself for ways to combat an inevitable betrayal. He also knew that Jordan was still insecure about her role as leader and was probably glad to latch on to Uma who was so put-together and already a respected captain.

“Finally, you’re ready.” Lala got up from where she was polishing her spear, dangerously close to the nose of a still-sleeping Calix.

“Well, you know how it is, I’m a pampered prince. I don’t wake at sunrise like you common hunters.” Aziz faked the haughty air that Chad often used which Lala answered with an eye-roll and mock curtsey.

Surprisingly, he and Lala had settled into a comfortable rapport despite only knowing each other for a week and forced to complete a fruitless, irritating task together.

They worked efficiently together, studying potential targets to follow and ask, and shared the bond of being bored and hangry as they walked through the dusty, surprisingly cold streets. They even shared some jokes over some exceptionally dumb sidekicks getting the boot or wonderings of how one could stoicly walk around with a six arrow embedded into their shoulder like a pincushion. She called him a pampered prince and he jokingly humored her by acting the part.                        

It probably helped that Lala didn’t think much of him to treat him with hostility.

On the second day of their recruiting mission together, she made a joke, and Aziz didn’t stop himself from saying, “The jungle princess is capable of joking?”

Lala shrugged and replied, “Well, you’re not much of a threat to me. I can relax. I mean you’re so quiet and not such a loud-mouth fake like Jay or anything really. You’re like…. hmm like a sidekick. You observe. You’re not going to outshine me or be able to go up against anyone.”

“He was so quiet.” “Not a threat.” Not like Jay who always managed to draw attention. He didn’t come up with witty lines on the spot like his father.

He was like a supporting character. Friendly, smart, capable of surprising people, but not very special.

He tried. Allah knew he tried. He maintained his grades. He was great at conversation with adults, he studied up on foreign affairs and he could charm diplomats with his mom like a pro. He did tourney and he practiced as much as he could, but he didn’t want to get so over muscled as Herkie as to not being able to perform his usual flips through Agrabah’s alleyways. He loved to go to the dances, and going on adventures in the dunes with some street rats during vacation. He did all the things that fellow royals did, his father did, all the heros did.

And the secret thing was that though he had fun, he always felt like an exhausted, nervous wreck after every single event.

He was never able to stop his mind from thinking during the conversation. Thinking of what he was going to say, if what he wanted to say was stupid or lame, what if the other person got offended, what did the person mean. He would think of a bunch of conversational scenarios, ones geared toward topics he knew, and witty remarks he could use, but those never went into effect because it felt awkward to try. He didn’t want to appear like he was trying too hard.

He was only able to relax and stop those racing thoughts with people he had known for years like his family or Ben and Lonnie. But with others..he always ended up listening more than talking.

He was perfectly fine listening to people. He didn’t feel the need to add useless, extraneous remarks just so he could talk. He would talk when he had something meaningful to say. That’s why he and Jordan got along so well because when she felt like it, she could talk for hours and Aziz could listen to it.

When he listened to others talk about a school scandal, he could hear all the different views and biases and piece together what happened, he could analyze their actions and motives, and why they were reacting in a certain way. It was like a psychological puzzle, and standing behind and listening allowed him to glean more information and more pieces to add in. 

For example, everyone saw that Audrey had dyed her hair to match her mother, and assumed it was ‘save face’ after Ben publicly dumped her for Mal, pretending she was over it. Aziz had seen Queen Leah berate Audrey, and surmised that the hair dye was less a reputational pressure but at the influence of familial pressure.  

Jordan said he was an amateur psychoanalyst which amused her because she liked listening to his theories about the motives of their classmates; Yet it annoyed her when the tables turned and he tried to encourage her to talk about her feelings like a normal person. She always shut it down with, “Not now, Sherlock Freud. Analyzing me is off-limits.”

Yet in this world, he was required to contribute to the conversation or else, people would forget he was there. Being the backgrounder he was he already heard other students discuss party invitations and he was left off the list since he was ‘boring” and ‘just there.” On the other hand, he was also invited to parties for the same reason. He was so forgettable that it didn’t matter to people if he was in the room or if he wasn’t.

Rationally, he knew he wasn’t boring. He had great stories to tell, and if anyone asked, he would take them for an adventure of a lifetime in the dunes of Agrabah, and teach them tips to tame wild horses, but that wasn’t how people saw him. People usually went by first impressions, and he wasn’t interesting enough to warrant a deeper look.

Though he tried to change and be outgoing as was expected for a prince- He asked his dad for advice under the guise of flirting tips, he memorized Genie’s standup routines, he forced himself to attend every one of the Tourney teams fundraising events, games, and afterparties- But he was always outshone by the other extroverted people in the room. He could act outgoing, but it was always harder for him. It was never going to be enough compared to those who were naturally outgoing. There was always going to be someone better than him.

“Aziz,” Lala snapped her fingers in front of him, “Stop zoning out, and let’s go to the bar.” “You know where the bar is? Yesterday, you said you knew where the docks were and led us to Facilier’s shop.” Aziz said. “It smelled like sea water.” Lala defended.

“It was bayou water. I’m pretty sure bayou water should smell different than sea water.” Aziz retorted.

“Whatever. I do know where Gaston’s bar is though. I have actually been there before, and you find it by following the crowd.” Lala nodded toward what was indeed a large crowd of shuffling, drunk-looking men and women shoving each other to enter the large front entrance that boasted moose antlers in front.  

Due to their healthier bodies and sober states, Aziz and Lala were easily able to edge through the sluggish crowd and enter the vast bar area with its permanently wet and sticky floor, numerous wooden tables and roaring French-styled fireplace.

Lala didn’t slow down, tugging Aziz’ arm to go to the backroom where another door led them to a junkyard with more tables, and a hastily constructed wrestling ring with a cage.

They sat down at the nearest table, and began their wait, disinterestedly watching the current match between a Hun and the infamous Stanley that was on Gaston’s team. But their primary focus was on the patrons surrounding them, unfortunately none looked like Agrabahian or like a sea monster in cahoots with Morgana. He did spot one young woman who looked like a more sinister version of Cruella if her black and white hair and maniac smirk was anything to go by.

A few minutes went by when their silent observation was interrupted by a voluptuous yet haggard blonde barmaid with a tray of ribs that were half boiled, and what looked like mold surrounding the edges, “You’re Lala, right? Dad sent this. Good. Enjoy. Bye.”

“Oh, thank you.” Lala flusteredly broke off a bone marrow and handed it to him.

“Your dad’s here?” Aziz looked around trying to spot another Atlantean in the crowd just as everyone jumped up to cheer when the Hun body-slammed Stanley against the cage and began beating him with his own hands. “Wait..you know your dad? I thought most Vks--”

“Most Vks don’t know both their parents, it’s true. But my dad stayed around a little longer. Stop looking around like that, you look like a frantic meerkat. He’s not out here. He must have seen me when we were inside or something. I’m kinda easy to spot with the white hair and all.” Lala said, chewing a bit too nonchalantly on a bone.

“I guess he must have liked you enough for him to send-” Aziz began to say but Lala held up a hand.

“Now don’t get your little happy Auradon beliefs up. He doesn’t like me. I remind him too much of my mom. The women who tried to strangle him. If he comes out to greet us which I sincerely doubt he would ever, you’ll see the marks around his neck. He’ll give you an action-packed story of how he fought off Turblat with only his bare hands, but it wasn’t the gorilla. It was mom.”

“Oh okay,” Aziz deflated a bit. He wasn’t as naive as Lala, and Jay and Uma seemed to think he was. He couldn’t imagine villains like Jafar or the Evil Queen would find it in their selfish hearts to love their children, he was just surprised that Lala seemed to have some sort of relationship with her other parent, and what he thought was a good one with free food. “I can imagine that your dad doesn’t love you as I know most parents love their children. But he hates you specifically because you remind him of Queen La? It’s not like you’re the same.” Aziz said before sheepishly adding, “And would I know who he is? Is he a villain? Or is he just a sidekick?” 

“Ha! My mom sleeping with a sidekick? That’ll be the day. My dad’s Muviro. He came from the same tribe as her. Though they didn’t know each other then, and got exiled at different times. And I am like my mom. I look like her. I’m jealous like her.” Lala fiddled with her food.

“You’re not..” Aziz was about to protest, but he trailed off. The Core 4 had proven that they weren’t like their parents, but that didn’t mean they didn’t share the same flaws as their parents, and weren’t capable of acting like them in some moment of anger or weakness. He remembered that Lala wasn’t helping them out of a sense of moral righteousness, she was getting a wish out of this, a wish to have her own kingdom. She wasn’t one of the good guys. 

“What do you mean?” Aziz asked, automatically getting riveted with what he imagined should be an intriguing backstory.

Lala hesitated and Aziz could imagine cat-like hackles rising as she trained her slitted cat eyes at him. She looked like she was about to snap with some comment to put him in his place, but then her eyes softened as she considered his face.

She must have remembered how she didn’t consider him a threat and began to speak.

“Well my mom, and dad..um I guess. I don’t know how to say this. I know they weren’t in love. There is no such thing here. But they stayed together for a while. They had had a child before me, and my dad stayed around till I was 7. My mom usually cheated on my dad, but then she found out he dared to cheat on her too. That was bad, but what really made her snap was that he said he could do better than her. You do not tell my mom there is someone better than her. She still hates Tarzan for choosing Jane, and she considers him to be her perfect mate. And my dad, someone who is just a warrior, not a prince or anything saying he could do better than the Queen of Opar…” Lala trailed off with a pregnant pause.

“Yeah, that is a bad move.” Aziz inhaled with empathetic pain as he imagined the vicious scene.

“After that he left, and…He actually didn’t hate me then. He invited me over here to this “civilized” area away from the “nutcase.” That’s what he calls her.

“But...my mom kept saying that he was choosing the slut over us, and I thought about how he could have children with this woman. Would he think those kids were better than me like that woman was better than my mom? And that wasn’t right. I’m his firstborn daughter. I’m the one he taught how to hunt. I’m the one who knows how to specially hunt eagle feathers.

I got jealous, I stalked him and his girl around and I found out she was a prostitute, but I thought she was cheating on him. I told him and said it showed that even she thought she was better than him. He couldn’t do better than mom and I. He didn’t take that well. He said I was just like my mom. Was I planning to murder ‘the other women’ so I could have his attention too even though I thought I was better than him?” So he stopped inviting me, and..yeah.”

“But what about now? If he hates you,why is he giving you food?” Aziz asked, surprised to find that he had almost finished the ribs, mold and all.

“He said one angry La mad at him is enough, he didn’t want to deal with two. So we sometimes come here and chat. We hunt. Not much now since puberty hit, and I got my white hair and all. It’s too difficult to look at me and not see her.” Lala shrugged again, looking down at the table, clearly trying to pretend the whole matter was cool with her and she didn’t care.

Aziz didn’t know what to say. He wanted to pull her into a hug and comfort her but he knew that wasn’t the way here. She’d probably scratch his eyes out first before admitting emotion.

But still.. It was slightly infuriating to think about. Lala had only been 7 years old. It was natural, she didn’t want to be replaced by some new family. Even if her stalking was unwarranted, the intention was kind of good, what with her concern that her dad was dating another woman who thought she was better than him. Albeit in a badly worded argument.

“So what about this brother you mentioned? What did he think of all this?” Aziz tried to smoothly turn the subject to a less intense topic.

“Oh umm nothing. He died before I was born.” Lala answered.

Aziz cringed, “Sorry. I mean not sorry. I guess you didn’t miss much since you never knew him. It’s just that I have a lot of siblings so when there’s family drama, we usually like to discuss it. Or sometimes fight about it if we disagree,” He saw Lala’s confused face, “Ugh, I’ll stop talking. I’ll stop. Right now.”

“I had a lot of siblings too.” Lala said, “Two sisters, three half sisters, and three half brothers. Plus Musala. That was the one I didn’t know.” Aziz whistled, inwardly contrasting her past tense with his present, “Wow nine’s a lot. I have two older sisters, Zahrat and Cassima, well three if you count Jordan, which we all do. One younger bro, Amal and another sister, Noor. Plus a nephew. That’s Zahrat’s son.”  

Lala had a pinched smile as she listened to him talk, not because she seemed disgusted but more like she was trying to suppress it. Not that she was succeeding too well, “What do you do together?”

“Uh lots of stuff. Mainly formal banquets because we’re royalty and all, but sand dune surfing, parkour. Though that’s just Cassima and I, but we’re getting the little ones into it. Horseback racing. That’s a big one. We have running tally between all of us, and I’m winning but Zahrat is going to beat me if I don’t win another one before her.” Aziz said, surprised by how enthusiastic he sounded as he talked about them, but then he realized how little he got to talk about his home life. In Auradon, everyone was so concerned with school and fashion and latest Vk gossip/rumors no one cares to ask about home life. They just figure they know all they need to know about Agrabah and his family.

“My siblings and I used to have a tally on our hunts too. We had such fun trying to get many prey as we could in one hour. One time I even convinced Ewuare that a speckled baboon was an actual creature, and he was so determined to be the first to..” She paused, caught in the memory before dismissing it, “I know what you’re thinking. But I didn’t actually care about them. Why should I? They succumbed to the jungle, they were weak.”  

Aziz didn’t buy it. If he had his eyes closed he was sure he would have believed her lie. Her matter of factness betrayed no wistful emotion. In fact, she sounded downright annoyed at the fact that weak people existed.

But her look didn’t match her voice. Despite not looking at him, where she looked was telling. She seemed to be staring out to the wrestling ring where the Hun was still beating up Stanley, with a brick this time, but her gaze was unfocused, and her lips were pursed thoughtfully. He wondered when her siblings died-if she had memories of hunting side by side in the jungle, secure in the knowledge that she had one person to trust on this Isle of liars, murderers and thugs. 

Or alternatively, if one of the siblings died just a few months old and she secretly wondered about it growing up. “When did they die?” Aziz ventured to ask, whispering with what he hoped was the appropriate amount of reverence.

Lala visibly tensed and then relaxed, and looked at him with a calm poker face.”When I was three, no two, I think, my mom gave birth to twins. One didn’t get a name because she died within a few hours. The other was Taytu Betuvira, she was my dad’s favorite because mom allowed him name her after himself.” The pinched smile returned but Lala bit it back, “I don’t remember much of her. I think, I thought she was cute. Like a baby cub. But she died a year later from a snake bite.”

“So when I was around four, my mom tried again with Rourke for a stronger child. You know, since dad’s kept dying off. Rourke didn’t stick around. Actually, I don’t think he even knows he had a son. Anyway, that son was Ewuare. He was the best.” Lala shook her head with a fond smile, clearly forgetting her “I didn’t care about them, they're weak” statement.

“But my mom wanted more than one child, so she slept with Clayton too. She got Leopold out of him. Clayton visited the jungle more often than Rourke but only when dad wasn’t around. His visits were more for hunting than for Leopold. Leopold was my mom’s son rather than Clayton’s. Clay was Clayton’s son.

It was nice for a while. Ewuare, Leopold, Clay and I. Clayton even let us use his gun sometimes so we could get used to a different weapon. But then Leopold got mauled by Sabor three years ago. He was only 8.” Lala reflexively clenched her fist and unclenched as she talked, her face growing stony with focused anger when she got to the part about Sabor.

“By then my dad was gone, Mom cheated on Clayton with Gaston and got a girl and boy, Amina and Shaka. They were the biggest babies by far. 8 pounds each. I was around 7 I think, and by then, I was expected to pick up the slack in the hunting department. It was awful. Ewuare was a natural hunter but Leopold kept dragging us down by wandering off. I mean I guess I shouldn’t expect more from a 2 year old, but by the time I was 2, I was a very obedient child. I don’t get why she was so relaxed when training him. I-“

“What happened to Amina and Shaka?” Aziz asked, seeing Lala was getting sidetracked by her mother apparently treating her differently from the twins.

“Oh, yes. They grew up, lasted a year longer than Leopold. But Amina ended up in quicksand, and Shaka tried to help her….” Lala paused again, thinking and composing herself to continue.

“Moving on. By the time I was 10, my mom decided she got the strong, powerful child she desired with Mozonroth. Her name was Sarraounia and she was mom’s favorite because she was starting to show natural magical powers once the barrier came down. She could make little illusions out of smoke. Her favorite was to pretend she was a panther. She was obsessed with panthers.”

“Oh no.” Aziz muttered to himself, half-listening to Lala’s comments about panthers and Sarraounia.

Lala cocked her head to the side like a cat which Aziz had to muse, so many things Lala did reminded him of a cat.

How quick her moods could change from curious look to ready to hiss and attack. Even her movements were catlike, full of grace and fluidity whether she walked on her two feet or as she climbed trees on all fours. The way she arched her back and stretched in  the morning, and whenever she smirked, it didn’t look human. It looked more like a crafty feline smile.

“What no?” Lala asked.

“Mozonroth’s my uncle.” Little known fact around Auradon was that Mozonroth was Aladdin’s half brother. Aladdin’s very evil sorcerer half brother that ruled over the Black Sands and wanted to rule over Agrabah too.

Aziz should have guessed that Mozonroth had a child. If a man like Lefou could have a child, surely Mozonroth was capable of it. Especially with the alleged hotness that he had heard so much about from Aunt Eden.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he has another child somewhere. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl though. It’s not Sarraounia. She died this year from fever.” Lala said taking a few deep inhales and exhales.

“My mom didn’t sleep with only one magical Agrabahian man though. She accidentally had a one night stand with Jafar.” Lala paused, clearly waiting for his reaction.

Aziz’s eyebrows shot up to hide behind his bangs, “So that’s how you know Jay.”

“Not that well. I was 13 and Jay was like 15 and even then he was arrogant and annoying. He kept trying to steal my teeth momentos, and pretended he could fight animals. He still keeps insisting that he is just as good a hunter as I am.” Lala huffed with annoyance at the memory.

“Jafar just came over to the cave to make sure my mom wouldn’t give him parental responsibilities of anything. Not that it mattered. My mom got sick with the yellow fever that was going around here, and almost died. I almost died trying to take care of her and getting the yellow fever. The baby came out dead so that was that.”

“Did Jay get to see it?” Aziz asked, starting to wonder if Jay’s pushed friendliness towards Lala was some sort of attempted almost sibling camaraderie.

“It was a she, and no. Jafar didn’t want to have anything to do with her.”

Aziz realized that she mentioned all her siblings’ deaths, but one. It was obvious she skipped over it, and he knew it must have been something terrible if she was glossing over it completely, but his curiosity urged him to know.

He stopped, opened his mouth and then closed it, and opened before finally asking, “What happened to Ewuare?”

Lala looked away, blinking rapidly, “He died four months ago. My jealousy struck again.”

Aziz waited as Lala pulled herself together after that cryptic comment.

“Like I said Ewuare was the best. He was smart, and fast, and such a good hunter. Such a good hunter. He always knew the right time to strike, and he was determined. My mom sometimes...she’d say Ewuare was better than I am in not getting scratched or I was better than him in hand to hand combat. She was trying to make us compete so we’d work harder. And Ewuare didn’t care who was better at what. But I-I got jealous.”

“Just that week, we got ambushed by coyotes and Ewaure got an awful bite on his shoulder, and I was happy. I knew it was going to leave a huge scar and Mom couldn’t hold my scars over me. So when we managed to fight them off, I continued hunting and let him Ewuare walk home alone. I let him because- “He was the magnificent Ewaure,”- he could heal himself.” Lala turned to face the wrestling ring as her nails dug into the splintered wooden table surface as if she was holding onto a liferaft to keep from drowning in emotion.

“..I-I was wrong. He didn’t get a scar. The coyote bit some vital veins and.. and he bled out as he walked….”

Without thinking, Aziz asked “How did you feel?” and Lala slowly  turned to give him a stony stare, her jaw clenched tightly and her eyes filled with unbidden tears.

The tiny voice in his head that sometimes sounded like Jordan berated him, “Not now, Sherlock Freud. Analyzing is off-limits.”

“I mean..um” Aziz stammered, and started talking about the first thing that came to his head, “Uh I get having a little sibling who's obsessed with big dangerous cats. Amal and Noor love our tiger, Rajah. They have these little posters and stuffed tigers all over their rooms. Noor pretended she was a tiger for a whole year and would only communicate in purrs and growls.”

Lala looked down at the table, and looked up, breathing shallowly in a clear attempt to keep grief at bay. At least she looked grateful for the topic change more than annoyed since she eagerly grasped at the opportunity to move on from Ewuare’s death. 

“Sarrounia was just as obsessed with panthers which made it pretty easy to train her. I would tell her all panthers had to know how to climb a tree properly so she would stop ignoring me and listen. And she was very eager to mimic cat sounds.” Lala followed it by a very realistic imitation of a leopard’s rasping yowl that caused Aziz to jolt back and nearby patrons stopped their cheering to stare at her.

Aziz laughed nervously from the sudden surprise, “Can you speak leopard?”

“No. I just sound like one. It scares other animals, and people.” Lala nodded satisfied with herself, and made a point to growl at a hefty looking pirate who was still staring curiously at her. “You’ll have to teach me that sometime. I tried to copy Rajah’s growling but I suck at it. I’m much better at speaking monkey.” Aziz said.

“You speak monkey? You’re a prince that speaks monkey?” Lala looked at him in disbelief, her lips quirking up in her usual feline grin as she tried to wrap her mind around the idea.  

“Yes. Fluently.” Aziz smiled smugly when Lala began to laugh at his talent, continuing to talk with some mock-indignation, “Though some of my classmates did think I was weird when I started to talk to some monkeys that broke out of the Auradon Zoo which is such a double standard. How come princesses can sing to the birds and the racoons without judgement but when I talk to monkeys in their own language..”

Aziz trailed off seeing that Lala was caught up in the hilarity of the fact he spoke fluent Monkey to listen to him. So he allowed himself the chance to observe her without fear of a berating glare. He was surprised to hear how it breathy her laugh was, ending with a snort after each gasp.

As he looked at her another figure caught his eye and made his heart jump into his throat.

He had seen that face many times in Uncle Genie’s magic “flashback shows.” Though the face was a little dirtier and a little bit bigger as if the man had been sampling one too many baklavas these days. 

There was no doubt that it was Abis Mal in the flesh. A helpful clue was the presence of a skeletal thin man that Aziz instinctively knew was Abis’ lazy and constantly annoyed assistant Haroud Hazi Bin.

“There’s Abis Ma!” Aziz hissed, jumping out of his chair to follow the bald bandit and his servant that were heading towards the alleyways.

As the pair left, two slender shadowy figures peeled away from western side of Gaston’s backyard wrestling ring. The dark side where no moonlight illuminated the area giving all manner of people the privacy to drink, to fuck and do what have they.

The two figures sat down where Aziz and Lala had been, licking their dark paws, their eyes glinting with fiendish delight.

“What would we have here, brother? A chance for a family reunion..” The female purred, her sharp teeth glinted brightly in contrast to her night black fur.

“Yes. Mozonroth and Marcellus should have a chance to kill the child of that infuriating Aladdin.” The male smirked, his shendyt fluttering in the night air caught the attention of a pirate’s kid who tried to grab it only to be scratched by the wearer.

“And not only the child of Aladdin, but...any other do gooder who helped him get here. It’s clear he didn’t come on his own.” The girl added, sharpening the claws of her right hand with her left.

The male laughed heartily, “Imagine how they’re going to lacerate him. This is going to be delightful to watch.”

Note on names: Like Ranavalalona, all the names are taken or slightly modified from real life African rulers like Taytu Betul of the Ethiopian Empire, Musa of the Mali Empire, Amina queen of the Zazzau city state, Shaka of the Zulu Kingdom, Ewuare of the Benin empire, and Sarraounia, the sorceress queen of Azna who was heavily associated with panthers. The only exception is Leopold named after King Leopold of Belgium who was a vicious colonizer of Congo and whose bloody hand would probably been respected by villains. 

[mavda]

Melted

Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4 | Ch.5 | Ch.6 | Ch.7 | Ch.8 | Ch.9 | Ch.10 | Ch.11 | Ch. 12 | Ch.13 | Ch.14 |

Ch.15: Going back

Illia tried to clear her mind. It was rather difficult, worrying had been part of her since she had been a child. She worried about her father, about Link, about the children, about the village. It felt natural, and it had been easy. Her father had given in after her mother's death, if Illia voiced an opinion it was immediately heeded. The children saw her as a caring and scary big sister, they loved and feared Illia enough to follow her orders. The village saw her as the Mayor's daughter, always thinking about the village, always working for their betterment, they loved Illia as much as she loved Ordon.

But Link had always given her headaches. Lonely, proud, resourceful, sly. He wouldn't go to her if he was troubled, he wouldn't ask for advices, he wouldn't ask for help, he wouldn't let her worry. He only went to her after he was beaten, or he had failed, or he had realized that he needed someone else for his plan to work.

Illia felt the cold water of the spring as she moved around Epona. Manual work cleared her mind, brushing Epona had always been a peaceful and relaxing time. But now she couldn't help but remember that Link was leaving.

Illia could only hope that he didn't come back defeated.

Illia asked Epona to bring him unharmed, or at least alive. She tried to remind herself that Link was an adventurer, the most prepared person to face the outside world. He had saved the world, for Hylia's sake. But all Illia could see was his dirty, tattered clothes as he ran up to her, screaming that he had finally been able to control an Ordon goat.

Epona nudged Illia. They had been away for too long now, even Epona could get tired of being pampered. Illia let the brush fall and shrugged. Link had replaced all of his silences with silly talks and naive questions. He had, by all means, stopped his self-imposed silence, but now Illia had the urge to shut his mouth.

He was saying nothing. He talked and talked. And he said nothing.

He hadn't recovered. His nightmares persisted, loud noises woud startle him, he would train day in and day out, and the mention of even the tiniest of nuisance would make Link grab his sword and take care of the problem immediately.

Illia could also sense his eagerness to leave. Nothing too over the top, it just wasn't his style. But he had made sure to prepare his gear, resupply his stock, leave Illia in charge of his house, and made sure that Uli accepted the money he had given her, even though it had been a hundred rupees more than what Uli would need.

Illia had laughed about his preparations, asked him if he really meant it when he had promised to come back for his birthday.

Link had looked at her, almost pained, "Of course I meant it, I'm coming back," and Illia had shut her mouth.

Link had never lied before.

Epona neighed, and Illia started the way back to Link's home. It was no use worrying when the other person didn't want to share his troubles. I was just no use.

If Illia kept on pressing him to share his troubles, she would only end up being the last person he would trust to tell said problems. It was like starting a frienship from scratch.

Illia heard laughs before she could see Link's house. Beth, Colin and Talo were trying to poke Link with wooden swords.

Trying.

Link moved with grace and blocked every move that looked as if it had a chance to succeed. He tickled them whenever they got close to him.

He was smiling. Laughing.

When Illia came into Link's field of view, he blocked Talo's sword with his hand - while Talo whined that that wasn't fair -, and let himself fall,  arms raised.

"I yield!"

"No, you don't!" Beth flung herself at his neck.

Colin and Talo started to celebrate their victory, hands in the air and dancing around Link.

Link rose with Beth on his arms and thanked Illia for taking care of Epona. The boys went around tidying up, they had been all invited to Uli's to have lunch. Before they could take the road that led to the village, Talo started to run towards it, making fun of Colin and Beth. Beth wiggled out of Link's arms and started to run after Talo, screaming at him to treat her like a lady. Colin looked vexed, and looked at Link as if to ask for advise. Link's smile was all he needed, and he went after his friends screaming for them to wait for him.

Link wiped the sweat off his forehead and muttered something about being left with leftovers. Illia got in pace with him.

"Nervous?" asked Illia. They had been talking about nothing else but Link's journey to the Castle.

Link shrugged, "Halfway there, should I be?"

Illia cocked her head, "I mean, you are friends with the princess of Hyrule, so I don't think you should be that worried? But then again, you are friends with the princess of Hyrule, which means that you should be."

Link smirked, "Yeah, exactly, I don't know how to feel."

"But you are happy."

Link huffed, "Guess so."

"Guess so," Illia mocked, "you are brimming with excitement, Link, don't lie."

"Fine. I'm eager, nervous, and positively excited."

Illia hummed, "Can I know why?"

Link remembered the cloaked figure he met as a wolf; Midna's horrified expression as she realized Zelda had given her her light; the dread that had filled his guts when Zelda had attacked him; the rage that overtook him when he realized Ganondorf had possessed her body; the tear Zelda had tried to clear away before he saw it when Midna had shattered the Mirror of Twilight.

"The princess of Hyrule wants to honor my work by rewarding me with a title and land, I'm a little bit proud."

Illia laughed, "A little bit proud, you are hilarious. Be proud, I'm fighting with myself here, a little. Sure, I don't want you to look dumb so I'd advise you to not engage too much with them, but then again, if they're mean and dumb, be as obnoxious as you can and have Zelda protect you, I don't know. Don't let them trample over you, that's all."

"Careful there, I might take it to heart," but Illia was still laughing with worry filling her face, "Illia, don't worry, if I have to punch someone in the face, I will. What will they have me do? Exile me? We kind of live in exile."

It was meant to be a joke, as they lived in the farthest place from the Castle, but Illia grabbed her arm in silence, and Link let out a breath.

"If you can't get used to life there, there is no shame in coming back," Illia said.

"I know."

"If you feel burdened, or sad, overwhelmed, or, or-"

"I'll come back, promise," Link bit down his 'It's only a month, Illia' because it was a serious issue for her. And there was no way in the Sacred Realm he was going to tell her that he was going there even if some nobles were to make fun of him because all he wanted was to see Zelda.

Illia looked at him, "I'm serious, Link, you have done more than enough."

Link snickered, "Thanks. And, uhm," he scratched his nose, "It's not that I don't appreciate what you're saying, It's just-"

"That you feel you can do more, I know. You are too good for this world."

He nodded, not too sure about that.

"Link, what you did made a difference. You saved countless lives, a kingdom. Princess Zelda knows it, too."

He shrugged.

"Link, the world is not your burden to carry."

"I know."

Link found it hard to tell Uli that his nightmares were still happening. He found it hard to accept that even though he had tried to help himself, he had failed. Link knew, with the same sixth sense that Uli had for him, that Uli was three steps away to ask him the question Link had come to dread.

Step one had been Uli giving birth to Lily, it was as if the baby had heightened Uli's senses. Link would be playing with Colin and he would feel Uli's eyes on him, and then he would laugh too hard, or worry too much over Colin, be too conscious of himself. He would feel chills run down his spine, because she knew. Uli knew.

Step two had been Link not asking more questions about his childhood, and forgetting about his nightmares. Too many smiles, too much talking filled with nothing. Too much of taking care of Lily just as an excuse to get away from Uli's glares.

Step three had been Illia's concerned look, again. And Link smiling and filling the silences with innocent questions. Sure, he wasn't clamming up now, but the only thing that had changed was his way of covering his pain.

So when Uli sat down next to him after the meal was over, and she stayed there in silence, even though he was still chewing, Link knew this was it.

It was coming.

"What are you so scared of?"

And he had to make an answer about what she meant, and about how he didn't really understand her question.

He left with smiles and hugs and promises to Uli he wasn't sure he could really keep up.

He was terrified to put his burdens on his family.

He was terrified they would realize he was not the same as before.

Zelda... Zelda... Zelda could take care of it.

 He had little luggage.

"Link, are you sure you are all set?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Illia gave him a look, "Well, sir," she marked the word, "I think you are a little underbaggaged."

Link snorted, "No, really, I'm all set. It's only a week? At most a month if Zelda wants me there longer," he patted his bags, "necessities only."

Illia sighed, "First, Link, please refrain from calling princess Zelda Eugenia Harkinian Hyrule by her given name alone," Link scrunched his face, mumbled an apology, "and also, I know you'll be there for a short period of time, but really?" Illia eyed his bags with worry.

"Come on, I can take care of myself. I travelled long and wide, and I'm alive."

"Yeah, well, I have come to question how you did it."

Link raised a finger, "Careful, missy, I may forget to bring presents your way."

Illia swatted his finger away and smiled, "Be careful."

"You too."

She sticked out her tongue, "It's not me who's going into the wolf's mouth."

"So dramatic. I'm going there as a guest of honor, they'll ruin their reputations by disrespecting me."

Illia shook her head, "Make sure to bring me a gift, you doofus."

He mounted Epona, nodded to Illia.

"See you later."

She waved to him till she could no longer see his back.

[lubdubsworld]

Amor Vincit omnia ( 3/20)

Yoongi/ Oc gang AU. 

chapter 3

"The next time you walk out on me like that I'll wring your neck." Yoongi snapped, standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom, buttoning up his shirt. I sat on the bed, staring at him. For reasons he refused to diverge, he'd moved in with me at the penthouse. He slept in the same bed as me , although the bed was big enough for us to sleep without coming anywhere near each other. Some days he didn't come home till the early hours of morning . I ended up having to cook breakfast for him. But he didn't eat all that often. Somedays he glared at me and left. Some days he threw the food in the trash.

So why did I do it?

Because it made me feel good, to be honest. Rejection and abuse isn't exactly a novel experience for me. I'd grown up with neglectful, abusive parents and I'd long mastered the art of finding happiness by myself. I enjoyed making breakfast and I felt good doing it for him. How he chose to take it, didn't really bother me all that much.

I'd read somewhere that Pain is inevitable but suffering is optional. I had no intention of suffering because of the way he saw me. He was welcome to his beautiful girlfriend and I was happy enough by myself. I was happy just being away from my abusive, violent father and his ham like fists. I was happy being able to wake up in the morning , fearing what wrong step was going to earn me a belt to my torso.

Yoongi wasn't at all like my father. He was angry most of the time, smiled very rarely but he was honest and fair. His anger towards me was warranted so I didn't really judge him for it.

He looked very handsome in a plain white shirt and tailored black slacks and I wanted to tell him as much. But I didn't say anything.

"I think my parents might be coming home for dinner tonight. Don't over do the whole happy bride act you've got going on. It makes me sick to my stomach." He snapped , slipping on a tie and fixing it in quick deft movements. He had really nice fingers, long and well formed. I thought he'd be exceptionally good at pottery. I'd left all my pottery tools at home and i did miss my hobby sometimes. But I also enjoyed needlework and I'd managed to sneak most of the supplies from home.

"I'll make sure dinner is ready. At what time will they be arriving ?" I asked. He stared at me through the reflection in the mirror and my face started heating up. Yoongi had the habit of gazing unblinkingly at people when he was deep in thought. It's a bit too unsettling to get used to.  It doesn't help that his eyes look rather fierce on most days.

"Around seven I think. I don't know. Like I said, don't over do it. And for God's sake why don't you cut your hair? It's so fucking long it looks like its trying to swallow you whole!" He snapped. I blinked in surprise. Honestly, I didn't really like my long hair. I'd only ever had it because my father refused to let me cut it. I hesitated, not sure what to say.

"I'll...cut it then?" I meant to make it a statement but it came out as a question and he looked even angrier.

"Talking to you is like talking to a fucking doormat. You don't even argue or put up a fight with me. What the hell do you even want from this marriage ?" He said angrily. Before I could reply, he stalked out of the door, slamming it shut behind him. I stared at the shut door, surprised. One would think a guy like Yoongi would be happy to have a doormat for a wife. And really what right did he even have to be annoyed? I'm not a doormat really, I just don't enjoy fighting or arguing with people who would never understand what it was like to just be able to breathe without worrying who you were upsetting.

I spent the day cleaning the house and rearranging the little knick-knacks around the house. By evening the house fairly sparkled and I smelled a bit like week old laundry. I took a long shower and then tied my hair up in a long and neat plait, letting it fall back behind me. My husband was right. It was rather freakishly long. I made a mental note to visit a salon and get it cut.

Yoongi's warning to not over-do it stayed in the back of my mind and so I barred myself from makeup, wearing just minimal lipstick and some eye-liner. The lack od make-up made me look rather young and naive so I changed my mind about a navy blue strapless dress and replaced it with a simple peach colored gown with a mauve trim. I wore simple sterling silver earrings and left my neck bare.

I'd just finished setting the table and making sure everything was ready. I also directed the two or three men who would be in charge of serving the dinner. The doorbell rang just as I finished slipping on some peep-toe heels.

When I opened the door , the last thing I expected was to see Lee Hye Mi .

She looked enviably normal in jeans and a t-shirt. I bit my lips as she stepped in , brushing right past me without a word. She turned around near the couch and gave me a look.

"Well, aren't you the perfect bride?" she sneered. I stood still staring back evenly.

"What do you want?" I said casually.

"You're the most shameless bitch I ever met." She spat out angrily and I stifled the urge to smile.

"I've heard worse. What the hell do you want?"

"Min Yoongi. I want my man back." She said shrilly.

"Look around, he's not here. If you don't know where he is , that's something you should work out between yourselves." I pointed out brusquely. She looked like she may explode.

"You think you're so great, forcing my Yoongi to marry you? Do you honestly think this is going to last forever?? He's going to dump your sorry ass the moment he turns twenty seven and the inheritance becomes his." She said gleefully.

This was news to me.

I nodded understandingly.

"Alright. Does that mean you'll stay out of my face for the next year at least?" I smiled sweetly .

She laughed then.

"You won't be smiling when I'm through with you. Did you think today was about meeting the parents and having a good time? Think again bitch. He's going to tell his parents that he wants a divorce. I told him to. " She said fiercely.

That made me freeze.

What ?

"You're insane. Get out of my house." I said angrily. She smiled again and moved to the door.

"I'm warning you. you better let him go before you regret it." She snapped before sailing out of the place furiously.

I stared after her in mild apprehension. I wasn't scared of her but I was a little afraid of her influence on Yoongi. He didn't seem like the sort of man who would listen to a woman no matter how much he loved or cared for her. He'd married me because he couldn't stand up to his parents . He wouldn't tell his parents he wanted a divorce, would he?

An hour later I realized that I was right. He wouldn't tell his parents he wanted a divorce.

But he would happily tell mine.

I stood perfectly still, watching my husband as he poured a drink for my father. I couldn't catch his eye. He wouldn't look me in the eye. I was desperate, the pulse pounding in side my veins. When he moved to the kitchen to fetch something I rushed after him.

"Please don't tell them you want a divorce." I said without preamble. He gave me a look.

"Either you do or I do. You can pick." He said calmly, taking the crushed ice and filling up the container. I struggled to think straight.

"I will. I'll give you a divorce. Just..give me a couple of weeks. Just a few weeks. I'll find a way to move out and I swear I'll give you a divorce." What was I saying? I had no education. I wouldn't last a day outside.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? I told you I don't want to stay married to you. And your parents are wealthy enough to find you some other poor sucker. " He snapped.  

"I'm telling you I'll leave you. You can marry your girlfriend soon after. Just give me some time.."

"Does this even make sense? Your father is the richest guy in town! You should be happy about going back to your life as a pampered princess!! I'm beginning to think there's something seriously wrong with you. Are you a crazy person?" He snapped. Looking back, I could've told him the truth . That my father was a monster. But I didn't . Because I was ashamed. Because I was afraid he wouldn't believe me.

I dropped to my knees without thinking.

"Please...I'm begging you, don't tell my father..." I stopped when a familiar shadow crossed over the threshold.

"Don't tell me what?"

I went still as a corpse. He wouldn't , would he?

I shut my eyes.

"There's something we need to talk about, abeonim." Yoongi said.

Darkness closed over me as I realized that my life was about to be finished.

"You little whore." My father's voice resonated through the large , empty foyer of our home. I'd just come here, summoned by my father. I stood perfectly still. I was actually numb inside and out. My brain wouldn't function anymore. I swallowed nervously.

"I didn't do anything wrong, father." I said softly.

He gave me a look of utter revulsion.

"Like you never did anything wrong with me, I suppose?" He sneered and I flinched when his hands moved to his belt buckle.

"I'm married now. I don't have to stay here." I told him firmly.

"Well, your husband seems to disagree. I told him I'll take you back and he was only to happy to agree." He grinned evilly and I swallowed bile.

Yoongi had signed my death warrant.

Slowly terror began bubbling up inside me as I realized that my father was going to kill me . His face was morphing in that way I was so familiar with. Fresh rage shone through his gaze and his face looked florid with hatred and fury. My hands began trembling as I took a step back.

"Father. Please."

But it was too late.

"You thought you could come back here and suck the life blood out of me again? Did you really think I'd put up with you again, just when I was sure I got rid of you? I'd sooner see you dead and buried!!"

My father grabbed me by the shoulder and rammed me straight into the wall, the impact jarring me so bad I couldn't breathe for a few seconds. White noise filled my head as my skull came in contact with the oak and mahogany finish of the fireplace. I could feel my skin split wide open, liquid gushing out. My tongue was too think in my mouth and I felt like I was drowning. But my father wasn't done with me. He hit me right across the jaw, harder than ever before and I felt like my entire face had been set on fire. He punched me right in the stomach and my knees gave out, I sank to the floor, vision swimming and unfocused.

The next second , searing pain shot through my scalp as my father dragged me up by my hair and i scrambled to follow him as he dragged me to the front door. I tried to move closer to ease the pressure on my scalp but he yanked me faster and faster till we reached the front door . He pushed me hard enough to send me hurtling down the two small stairs that led to the driveway. I felt something crack inside me when his boots connected sharply with my ribs. I lay there panting , bleeding and aching. It was freezing cold and my breath clouded in front of me. My coat was still in the inner closet and I was wearing a thin blue dress.

"You'll stay here till morning. If you're still alive, I'll think of a solution." He spat on me and stormed back in.

I lay there perfectly still, summoning every ounce of my energy just to sit back up.

If I stayed out here, I would freeze to death. Yet my biggest fear was that my father would change his mind and open the door and drag me back inside.

Moving felt like hell but I managed to walk out of the driveway. The guard looked so stunned at the sight of me he didn't move. When I reached the road, I clung to the walls that lined our estate,  trying to assess how badly I was hurt. Everything ached and common sense told me I would have to get to a hospital . But if I did , they may send me back to my father , who may likely drag me back home and make sure he finished the deed.

Struggling to breathe against the pain in my ribs, I walked all the way to the convenience store about seven blocks away. I stood there, suddenly realizing that I had no one to call for help. No friends. No family. Only a husband who had abandoned me when I'd begged him to help. Pain lanced my heart and I couldn't stop the tears that stung. I cried for a long time, got all the emotions out. When I was finally done, my jaw aching and my emotions ripped to shreds I actually pulled myself together and evaluated my situation.

I'd hit rock bottom.

I would have to find a way to survive WITHOUT Yoongi or my father. I did have a high school diploma. I could get some low paying job. I still had my watch and my diamond studs on. Not to mention the platinum wedding band that lay in a a small chain around my neck. I could pawn those off for cash and it should at least support me for a while.

As I thought about it, I felt something very new and exhilarating fill my heart. For the first time, I was taking an active role in my own future.

Fuck Prince charming.

I would rescue myself.

But first things first. I needed medical attention and I needed it quick. Who to call? Who did I know who would do me favors?

Kim Namjoon.

He was Yoongi's friend and literally the only person who had been anything close to civil to me. I got his number from the information desk and when the first ring went through I almost hung up in fear. Some of my bravado faded. What if he told Yoongi?

"Please don't tell Yoongi..." I said repeatedly, once he picked the phone and I told him I was hurt.

"Okay..don't worry, Everything's going to be fine." he said confidently. He asked me where I was and advised me to find the nearest bench and take a seat. He would be there in fifteen minutes tops. I sat down quickly and sure enough a white mercedes pulled up in front of me , less than ten minutes later.

But it wasn't Namjoon who got out.

Min Yoongi stepped out of the car and I felt my heart drop down to my knees .

He took one look at me and went even paler , if that was even possible. He stared at me for a few seconds, eyes carefully noting the bruised skin on my bare shoulders, the torn fabric of my dress and the blood congealed on the gash on my head, stark against my light brown hair.

Before I could say a word, he stepped close and , very very gently, gathered me into his arms.

"I got you." He grunted as he carried me to the car. I stayed quiet, anger and helplessness battling for dominance inside me. But I swallowed my words. I wouldn't speak to him. To my surprise, he slid in next to me. I tried to stay still but found myself leaning helplessly against him as the car drove through the suburbs. He immediately wrapped an arm, just over my ribs, fully supporting my weight and keeping the pressure off my ribs.

"It's alright. I got you." He said again, his voice scarily tense and his face like a thundercloud. If he was so angry why was he helping me??

In the hospital, no body stopped us to fill forms or to talk. I was laid on a stretcher and the moment my head hit the soft pillow, every ache magnified and I went limp with exhaustion.

But through the dim haze I heard someone question.

"Who's she , sir?"

And then Yoongi's voice, low and furious and shaking with anger.

"She's my wife."

I shut my eyes and lost consciousness.

[bangtancanrelate]

BTS written ship please ~.

Can I get a ship with BTS please?? I’m INFP 😆 Casual and cozy are my style. I’m an honest person and keep my words. I care others’ feeling and always put them before myself. I believe people deserve respect and happiness. I’m not confident. Others may find me quiet and reserved but I’m actually outgoing and clumsy … very much 😫. I like talking and am bad at lying. Sometimes, I can be naive and friends love to tease me about it. I love my family very much and we are extremely close. Seeing them smily and happy is my happiness. I’m a eat lover especially sweets. I love animals excluding worms and cockroaches. I can’t resist dogs. If I find any big one or puppies 😍, I’ll immediately run to them and pet them. I like almost every flowers in the world not only because of their beauty but also because of their own meanings. I love being outdoor and travelling. I enjoy themeparks, hiking and camping, and festivals. They are all fun places we can all having fun. I like walikg because I like it when I can pay more attention on surroundings, whether it is a people, an architecture or an atmosphere. I usually listen to music while taking a walk. I also like cover songs. Those who have a great voice are attractive to me. Sometimes I found myself unconscious humming song when in a good mood 😁 I like taking a photo of a view or people when they don’t notice. That way the photo would contain more feeling. I like drawing as well. Horror movies are my fav. I’m really slow when it comes to love. There are times I don’t even know that they were flirting with me (My little sister said it’s because I don’t pay attention on this thing and I think too much sometimes 😑). Thank you. Please, take your time ❤️

@chana-ninja Hello there, yes of course, you can have a ship yayy~ and also, thank you for being patient with this! ﾍ(=￣∇￣)ﾉ  [WARNING: EXTREMELY LONG]

I ship you with~ Jin!

Runner up(s): Maknae Line

OMG I’m also an INFP (or maybe because it’s just from my syndrome lol) Wow, okay so ignore that. Anyways, moving on~ I should start explaining first about the runner ups ^^. I personally think the maknae line is perfect for you because your personality matches the girl that’s perfect for them, ranging from your love to your family to loving animals and interests that’ll actually look good to them as a boyfriend material. But I thought Seokjin is perfect for you since he’s actually a combination of the maknae line if you look on the other angle. Again, the maknae line is perfect for you but your naivety needs someone mature— and there we have Seokjin. Although sometimes we see him goofing around, wondering our whole life’s existence if he’s really the oldest of the group but he’s actually mature and a GREAT husband material. Ha, lucky you, he can also be a wife and mother material as well which means you’ve got the “man who can do both” ;)

Your relationship will turn out perfect as you may describe it as both of you cares for others and even putting them first before yourself which can also be a negative trait because you might forget your own health— that might be a cute idea thinking about a scenario where you got sick from putting others’ safety first and he will be there to take good care of you but then what if BOTH of you got sick thinking about others’ safety? That’s why you have to be balanced when it comes to certain circumstances :)

Your style is similar to Seokjin since he doesn’t really go for extremely fancy or crazy outfits or sometimes formal but whenever he does, he’ll be looking hella fine. I remember that elevator prank on Bangtan where everyone became uncomfortable and meanwhile, there’s Seokjin, concerned about the girl.

I’m naive myself too, and I personally think naive girls needs an independent, reliable, and responsible man who can not only take good care of us but ones where we can learn as well without being spoiled and pampered too much.

Seokjin is the oldest of the group but that doesn’t stop him from coping up with the younger ones’ energy so you’re really perfect for him since you’ve said it yourself that you are an outgoing and fun person. Imagine the endless fun you’re going to have as a couple!

Relationship: Sometimes weird dates (ofc it was his idea) but you will find it cute and sweet (example: having a date with what it may seem like a thousand dogs around and if you ask him why, he’ll tell you something like, “there are millions of dogs in the world to love but I love you the best” or “we’re surrounded by these adorable creatures but I still chose to look only at you”) random seokjin fact: he said his ideal type is someone who looks like a puppy/dog; ensuring everyone’s safety and satisfaction; giving each other sass and then laugh about it later; PUNS from him; talking nonstop to each other from ‘how was your day?’ to ‘do you think our firstborn would be a pink alpaca?’; he would sometimes make fun of you since you can be naive for he can find it amusing but the odds of him doing that is almost impossible because he knows that it your weakness and therefore he must protect you instead; so if someone teases you for your naivety, he’ll be drop-dead serious telling them to stop even if they are your closest friends; will treat you like an actual princess Peach because he thinks you’re a precious child; he’ll cook for you family, especially when he gets the chance to go to your country/home and meet your parents; common boyfriend? Nah, he’ll prove to your family that he’s a responsible man and will take good care of you for the rest of your life (help your family cook, clean the house, *insert stuff your family does*); you won’t even have a hard time to convince your parents that someday, you’re going to marry him because since day 1 they met him, their vote has been set to him and that will never ever change even if you break up, in which of course let’s hope never to happen; eating and eating om nom nom nom; JJANGGU; travel and take aesthetically pleasing and candid photos together; mostly will give you presents that’s related to your favorites like flowers (ex. Floral dresses, flower-designed jewelries); MORE PUNS from him; him singing a song for you or sing a song together with different music genres; drawing when boredom strikes (you’ll have a good laugh at his drawings lmao); go for horror movies and scare the sht out of each other. Seokjin is a level-headed man and again, he’s mature enough to handle such situations— arguments and little fights. He knows you can sometimes be slow and can’t properly decide and can be naïve at things so he’ll keep his calm and patience. He won’t even try to make a big fuss over things, big or small the situation is which is really great. Overall: Not your typical sweet and romantic couple where you learn from each other ♥

♥ Hope you like it! ♥