#he looks sort of like link here . lolol

[voetballers]

aspiration for a different destination to me

[moonferry]

fsioy chapter 15!

chapter fifteen is HERE folks. way less angsty than the last one which, again, i apologize for. basically some overflow ideas that are technically part of ch 14 but would've made it far too long lolol . anyway enjoy.

word count: 4642

warnings: mentions of death, fighting, grief, high emotions

summary: kent and willy deal with the aftermath of lee's death. kent can't seem to cope and willy offers a story from his past and some helpful insight.

ao3 link: here

other chapters: chapter master list

Kent stayed in Willy’s arms, tears once again streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t believe it. Lee was gone. He had lost both his friends in the span of two days. It made him wonder, just how cruel could the world be? 

The two sat in silence for a while, Kent huddled close to Willy and desperately trying not to look at Lee. He thought that, if he didn’t look, it wouldn’t be real. But it was real. His friend was gone. And he wasn’t coming back, no matter how hard Kent wished he would.

Willy glanced between the boy in his arms and the cooling form slumped against the wall. To him, they looked almost the same - someone far too young to experience something so horrible, so horrific, so… cruel. It scared him, to be honest. Willy had seen thousands of situations just like this, of boys taken far before their time. All because of this Yoba forsaken war. He looked at Kent and thought back to the promise he made. He couldn’t let something happen to Kent. A small sigh slipped past his lips and Willy tightened his grip around Kent’s shoulders. Kent was probably the closest thing to a son Willy would ever have. 

Kent sniffled, though he was grateful Willy was there with him. He wasn’t sure he could do this alone. When Danny died, it had been different. Kent still had someone he could talk to. Kent still had Lee. Now, he had no one - except for Willy, that is. Part of him was curious, though, at how Willy knew where to find them. 

“Hey, Willy?” Kent asked, tilting his head up to look at the older man. A small, concentrated frown formed on his lips.

“Aye, lad?” Willy asked, looking at Kent. He knew what was coming, though he wasn’t sure the best way to answer it. It’s not exactly the easiest thing to say “I didn’t trust you so I followed you”. 

“How did you find us, anyway?” Kent asked, his brows furrowing together as he tried to figure it out. He knew Willy had intended to explain when he entered, but the man hadn’t had a chance - due to some unfortunate circumstances. 

“Ah..” Willy started, parting his lips with a faint smack. He thought for a moment - debating how to word it. Another sigh slipped past his lips and he spoke once more, “To be honest, I overheard you and yer friend chattin’ - back at the base, y’see.. An’ well.. I sort of followed ye. Just to make sure you lads were safe..” 

“What?” Kent asked. A wave of disbelief crossed his face. He looked at Willy, his expression turning slightly hurt. “You followed us? Why?” 

“No offense, lad,” Willy started, cringing as there was no easy way to explain. He took a deep breath before adding, “But you and Private Leegland have a… track record for being a little.. Ah.. irresponsible.” 

Anger flashed Kent’s face. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Willy thought they were irresponsible? Sure, there was that time Danny had to pry Lee’s hand out of the fence with pliers after Kent had dared him to grab something on the other side. And the time where Lee managed to stir up a hoard of angry insects and Kent “accidentally” walked right into their warpath.. And the time where - you get the point. But, irresponsible? Kent was hurt that Willy thought so low of them.

“You really think that?” Kent spoke sadly, his voice layering with hurt. He looked away from Willy, ashamed. 

“Ah, no.. Kent,” Willy spoke, immediately regretting his choice of words. He stammered, trying to reconcile the situation. He spoke again, “I didn’t mean it like that, son.” 

“Then how did you mean it, Willy?” Kent snapped, his face contorting in anger. Tears welled up in his eyes. He continued, “Don’t you think I know how irresponsible I am? Don’t you think I’m trying my best? Don’t you think I tried to save them? Don’t you think that, deep down, the only thing I know I’m responsible for is the death and destruction of everyone around me? Don’t you think it hurts me to know that - when I try to do something good - it always fails miserably? Do you think I want to be this ‘irresponsible’, Willy? Have you ever stopped to think that - maybe - I didn’t want this responsibility? I’m only 18, Willy! Eighteen! And my whole life is collapsing in front of me. I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t even want to be here!” 

Tears streamed down Kent’s face as he rambled. He buried his head in his hands and let out a groan of frustration. It seemed that, no matter where he went, everything seemed to end up a mess. He started to wonder if, maybe, he was cursed. It seemed that way, anyway. 

“First of all, calm down, lad,” Willy spoke, attempting to ease Kent’s rampaging rant. He placed a hand on Kent’s shoulder before continuing, “Second of all, have you ever stopped to consider that I’m trying to look out fer ya? I would not be tryin’ this hard to save your skin if I didn’t care.” 

“Thirdly, you’re so caught up in yer own head that you won’t listen to me,” Willy spoke, shaking his head in slight disapproval before continuing, “I’m trying to explain. Now, if you’ll stop yammerin’ for five seconds, I’ll tell ye what I mean.” 

Kent narrowed his eyes, though he appeared to be listening to Willy’s words. He began to protest, though Willy gave him another shake of his head and Kent shrank down. 

“You asked how I mean it, and the answer is not that simple,” Willy started, pursing his lips together as the explanation formed in his mind. He thought once again about his promise and nodded. Now was as good of a time as any to tell him, he supposed. “A few years ago - maybe one or two, tops - your Pappy asked me to do something special for him.” 

“Chris and I were the best of friends - you know. I’d do anything for that man, and I’m sure he would’ve done the same, if our roles were reversed. Now, your Pappy comes up to me, and he says ‘Willy,’ and I’m like ‘Aye, what’s up, Chrissy?’ and Chris responds, ‘Willy, I have something to ask you.’ I’ll never forget what he said to me that day.” 

“Now, at the time, ol’ Chris had just returned to service - you remember, right? He comes up to me an’ he mentions this thing - this very important thing - and obviously, I’m like ‘Ah, sure, tell me what’s on yer mind,’ and so he does, but what he said surprised me. He turned to me - his face real glum - and he said, ‘Willy, if I don’t make it out of this and you do, I need you to promise me that if you ever see my boy - Kent - that you’ll take care of ‘em for me. He’s a bit immature now, but he’s got a good heart. Just like his Ma.’.” 

“I nod and tell Chris I will, though I mostly assume he’s jokin’ - I mean, I couldn’t imagine Chris “The Bear” Neilson not making it back, ya know? If anyone was made to withstand war, it was your Pappy.. But then, the unexpected happens. Chris… he.. Well, he thought he could save everyone, but… in the end he couldn’t save who mattered most - himself. I was so distraught - like how you are now, boy - and I couldn’t help but wonder why the ol’ universe would take someone as great as Chris. Then, I realized that’s all the universe does - it takes the good people and rewards the bad. Now, I’m no angel, I assure you, but I couldn’t help but wonder why I was spared and he wasn’t. I was there the day your father died, you know. I was the one that found him, pinned under the rubble. And with his dying breath - he wasn’t worried about himself. No, he was worried about you, Kent. The last thing your father told me was to remember my promise - to take care of his boy. So, I made it my mission to watch out for this boy who I’d only heard of. And then when you showed up on me boat that day? It felt like a blessin’ from the divine. From that moment, I knew I would do whatever I had to to protect you. So, yes, I followed you. But not because I don’t trust you, Kent. Because I don’t trust myself. I don’t want to let your father down. I can’t let your father down.” 

Kent was quiet, thinking about Willy’s words. His brows knitted together, a look of deep concentration crossing his features. He hadn’t known any of that. Willy had been watching over him all this time, all because of his father? Kent had spent the last few months in agony because he missed his father deeply. Because he knew he’d never have the comforting knowledge that his dad was looking out for him. But that wasn’t true, was it? HIs father had been there the entire time - just in a different way than Kent had hoped. He looked at Willy and a look of gratitude covered his features. 

“You’ve been looking out for me this whole time?” Kent asked, tilting his head in a curious disbelief. Willy nodded before replacing his hand on Kent’s shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze.  

“Aye, lad,” Willy replied with another nod. He turned to look at Kent, his lips forming a small line. He spoke once again, “I really cared about your father, ya know? I’d do anything for that man. Even if it means takin’ care of his son - even if said son just accused me of never lookin’ out for ‘im.” 

“That means a lot Willy,” Kent admitted, a small smile spreading onto his lips. He reached out and wrapped the older man into another hug before adding, “Thank you. Really.” Willy allowed himself to be hugged, patting Kent’s back in a fatherly manner. He glanced towards the other side of the room and frowned. Willy’s eyes landed on Lee, still slumped over and lifeless. 

“Ah,” Willy started, sadness evident in his voice. He motioned for Kent to pull away from the hug before standing and approaching Lee. “I’ll carry him back. Follow behind me - closely. I dealt with the one who shot this lad here but I don’t know how many more of those buggers are still out there,” Willy explained as he crouched down and gently scooped Lee into his arms. 

That’s right, Kent remembered, they still had to make it back to camp - now with Lee’s body instead of Lee himself. He was hoping he’d forget that part. Kent’s expression dropped once again as reality seemed to set in. 

The two walked in silence, Kent holding the small lantern in his hand and trying to light the path ahead of them. It wasn’t much light, but it would do. Kent glanced around uncomfortably in a desperate attempt to not look at what remained of his friend. However, despite his best efforts, his eyes always seemed to land on Lee. The stillness and quietness irked Kent. Lee had never been either of those things. It made Kent realize that this was no longer the Lee he knew. It made Kent’s heart ache. He stopped in his tracks, overcome with raw emotion. Willy glanced back at him and his brows knit together. 

“Come on, Kent,” He urged, attempting to get the boy to move, “We can’t stay here. We have t’ get ye back to camp. I don’t want ya gettin’ hurt - or worse.” 

“I just can’t stop thinking about him, Willy,” Kent admitted, a sigh slipping past his lips. He turned to face Willy and looked up at him before asking, “How did you cope with losing my father?” 

“Ye want the truth, lad?” Willy asked, his lips forming a thin line. Kent nodded. Willy gave his own nod in response before sighing. “I didn’t.” 

“It haunts me everyday. I see a lot of him in you, ya know. That makes it harder. But, you know the one thing that gives me comfort?” 

“What’s that?” Kent asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“Fishin’,” Willy replied, a small chuckle slipping past his lips. His eyes crinkled up as Willy gave a wry smile. 

“Fishing?” Kent asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief, “Seriously?” 

“Aye, but it’s not just fishin’, lad,” Willy started. He took a deep breath and began trying to explain, “When I’m fishing, I can be alone - just me, my thoughts, and the calm water beneath me boat. I start thinking about everythin’ and everyone I’ve lost. I look at the water and I feel like I see a glimpse into where they are now. More often than not, they look happy. At peace. It helps me find some sort of comfort - knowin’ that they aren’t suffering like I am anymore.”

“Does that really help?” Kent asked curiously. It seemed like an interesting concept - and one that was definitely worth a try. 

“It does, most of the time,” Willy confirmed with a small nod. He looked at Kent before adding, “It doesn’t have to be jus’ water, though. You can find glimpses o’ them everywhere. Like the sky, fer example. Look up at the stars and tell me what ya see.” He instructed, pointing a hand towards the night sky above them. 

Kent looked at Willy, skeptical. The man gave him an encouraging nod. Kent sighed, though he glanced up at the sky. At first, he just saw the faint speckles of stars filling the inky blackness. Then, he looked harder at the constellations. Instead of the usual star formations - all of which his wife could name by heart - there was a new one. It looked similar to two people resting against each other, one with their arm around the other’s waist. He squinted, allowing the image to come more into focus. The longer Kent stared at it, the clearer the image became. It eventually morphed into a reflection of his two friends. They appeared to be smiling - unharmed and at peace. A tear rolled down the curve of Kent’s cheek. The image began to blur and slowly fade. He sniffled, though he continued looking upwards - afraid that if he looked away, the image would disappear entirely. Kent now understood why Jodi was so interested in stars and astronomy. If it could give you a glimpse into a better life - a life free of suffering and pain - maybe space was worth exploring. 

“You saw them,” Willy started, speaking to Kent as the boy’s gaze finally dropped from the sky, “Didn’t you, lad?” 

“Yeah..” Kent nodded, his face a mixture of melancholy and bittersweet, “Yeah I did.” He placed a hand over his chest - bringing the necklace that was still clasped in his hand closer to his heart. Even though he was consumed by the grief of losing them, Kent was grateful that they finally had each other. That they could be together in whatever was after this life. A single tear rolled down his cheek and Kent placed the necklace in his pocket for safe keeping. 

“They looked so happy, Willy,” Kent admitted, finally turning to look back at the older man. Kent felt a small bubble of guilt wash over him. He squeezed his eyes shut to avoid the spillage of any more tears. Kent mumbled sadly, “I wish they could’ve been that happy while they were alive. If anyone deserved each other, it was those two..” 

“I get that, son,” Willy acknowledged with a small nod.

Willy looked down at his arms, his expression dropping as his gaze landed on the limp, sagging weight in his arms. He turned back to Kent and nodded his head - signaling it was time to begin walking again. He called out, “Come on, lad. Let’s get back. You need to rest - today has been one hell of a day.” 

The two walked in silence - neither having the energy or the motivation to hold much of a conversation. As they walked, Kent continued to mull over his thoughts - trying to wrap his head around the events that transpired earlier that day. He was still in shock so the complete grief of losing Lee mere moments ago hadn’t set in yet. He knew it would hit hard in the morning. He just wasn’t ready for it. 

Kent watched as Willy stopped by the medical tent to drop off Lee, but he couldn’t bear to see the man when he returned empty handed, so he sprinted towards his new cabin. He laid down on his uncomfortable stiff mattress and clamped his eyes shut. He silently hoped for sleep, though all his mind granted was images of the past few days - painful reminders of everything that has happened over the past 48 hours. That thought stung. Had it only been two days? It felt like weeks had passed. Kent had experienced more grief and suffering in 48 hours than most ever would in their lifetime. And to think, the cause of it all was this infernal war. Kent was sick of it. He made up his mind: tomorrow he was going to leave. No matter the consequences. With his mind made up, Kent closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep. 

When the morning rolled around, Kent sluggishly dragged himself into a sitting position, his feet dangling over the edge of his bunk and resting on the cool ground beneath him. His chest tightened as the grief began slowly settling in, but Kent shook the thought from his mind and pushed himself into a standing position. He didn’t have time for emotions right now. 

Kent began hastily gathering what few belongings he had and stuffed them into his suitcase. 

“What are you doing, Kent?” A voice called as they approached Kent, suspicious evident in their voice. 

“Packing,” He replied, not even looking over his shoulder to determine who he was speaking to. 

“Why?” They asked. 

“Because I’m leaving,” Kent retorted. He looked at them, his lips forming into a thin line. It was Ray, who was once again trying to strike up a conversation. Didn’t he know what Kent had been through? What was so important that he had to interrupt his packing? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He just wanted to pack in peace - and to not think. Kent knew that if he was left to his thoughts, he would surely break down. He was currently trying very hard to convince himself everything was fine. He was failing miserably. Kent clamped his eyes shut once more, stopping in his tracks as a sob built up in his chest. 

“I heard about Lee,” Ray spoke again as they approached, resting a gentle hand on Kent’s shoulder, “I’m sorry.” 

Hearing someone else speak Lee’s name seemed to break him. Kent heaved a small sob and gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going to cry in front of someone he barely knew. Instead, his sadness slowly turned to anger. He knew it was misplaced, but he couldn’t help himself. 

Kent turned around and gripped Ray’s collar, lifting the taller boy off his feet before harshly slamming his back against the wall. 

“You didn’t even know him,” Kent snapped, his anger overtaking him. Tears began streaming down his face and Kent sobbed again. He spoke again, his voice harsh and filled with raw emotion, “You didn’t know either of them. Danny and Lee were so amazing and… and now.. Now they’re gone, Ray. And all you have to say is ‘I’m sorry’?!” His knuckles turned white with how tightly he was gripping Ray’s collar. 

Kent looked at Ray’s face and saw the man was nodding, though there was the faintest hint of fear plastered across his face. Kent looked at his fist and recognition washed over his face. He instantly dropped Ray’s collar and stepped away from him. Regret added to the mixture of emotions he was feeling. He had never been the violent type, yet he lashed out at someone who didn’t deserve it. 

“Sorry,” Kent mumbled before turning away from Ray, ashamed of his actions. He couldn’t even bear to look at him anymore - afraid Ray would do something in response to his anger.

Instead, Ray exhaled a small sigh and approached Kent once again, resting his hand on the middle of Kent’s back. 

“It’s okay, man,” Ray spoke, his voice ripe with sincerity, “I get it. I was the same way when Ma died.” He looked at Kent, pausing for a bit before adding, “Do you feel better now, at least?” 

Ray’s response caught Kent off guard and the surprise flashed across his face. He thought about Ray’s unexpected question, his brows furrowing together. Did he feel ‘better’? He supposed. He didn’t feel nearly as angry, but he still felt awful. 

“I guess so,” Kent replied with a small shrug. He almost stopped himself from saying anything further, but his emotions began - once again - bubbling in his chest, threatening to boil over if someone didn’t turn down the heat. He sighed and added, “I just miss them so, so much..”

Ray gave an understanding nod, gently patting Kent’s shoulder. Before Kent realized it, he was crying once again. He turned and wrapped his arms around Ray, surprising the both of them. Ray’s eyes widened. He hesitated - trying to decide if he should push Kent away. He glanced down at Kent and noticed how fragile the other boy looked. A small sigh slipped past Ray’s lips and he wrapped his arms around Kent’s back. 

“I miss them. I miss them so much, Ray,” Kent spoke, blubbering through his tears. His vision went blurry, stinging as the salt tears streamed down his cheeks. He spoke once again, “And.. I feel like it’s all my fault they’re gone.” Kent hesitated for a moment, realizing he had just told this to Ray - of all people. His lips formed a thin line and he apologized, “Sorry. You probably have better things to do.” 

“No. Not really,” Ray shrugged, shaking his head as he spoke, “You just lost two people close to you, Kent. You don’t have to apologize to me.” 

Kent nodded. He glanced down and realized he was still hugging Ray. He removed his arms before apologizing and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Ray gave a slightly uncomfortable, yet understanding smile in response - though it looked more like a grimace, if Kent was being honest. 

He returned to packing and managed to stuff every item in his suitcase - save for the clothing on his back.  Kent reached into his pocket and took out the necklace. He inspected it, brushing his fingers over the cool metal and tracing the engraving of his friend’s names. Kent sighed, feeling hollow as he looked at the tags. He was grateful Lee had given them to him in his final moments, but he wished the owners of the tags were here with him instead. Kent put a hand up to his neck and revealed his own necklace - it held his own tag and wedding ring. A faint smile spread across his lips as he saw the ring. He wrapped his fingers around it and pressed it into his palm. He then released his grip on the ring and placed the tags around his neck, letting the necklace fall against his chest. The tags crashed together and created a melodic clinking. If Kent closed his eyes, the clinking of the tags sounded similar to the three of them laughing together. 

Kent grabbed his luggage and ran towards the door of the cabin. He abruptly pushed it open, sending it flying against the wall with a loud crash, and sprinted away from the camp. He managed to get a few feet before realizing he had no idea where he was going - when he and Lee arrived, they had been driven in a special vehicle. And, to make matters worse, a similar vehicle was pulling up next to him. 

Kent’s eyes widened and he sprinted faster. His legs ached and his lungs burned, but he kept running. He couldn’t risk getting stopped by the driver and being asked questions about what he was doing. He ran until his legs begged for a break. He ran until he felt like he was going to topple over from exhaustion. Yet, the vehicle always managed to catch up to him. The driver rolled down the tinted window and shouted out at him. Kent peered in, trying to see who it was. It was Willy. 

“Kent!” Willy called out as he trailed behind Kent, having to barely press the gas on the vehicle to keep pace with him. “What are you doin’, lad?” 

“Leaving!” Kent called back. He tried to walk slightly faster, but his legs were close to giving up. He didn’t want Willy to try and convince him to stay. There was nothing left for him here and he wasn’t too keen to die for someone else’s cause. 

“And where do ya think you’re goin’?” Willy asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. 

“Home,” Kent answered simply. He looked ahead, determined, before adding, “I’m going home.” 

“Not that way, ya aren’t,” Willy spoke, a hearty chuckle bellowing in his chest. He reached a hand out the window and pointed in a different direction than Kent was walking before adding, “City is that way, son.” 

Kent let out a frustrated groan, though he turned around and continued walking. Willy watched as Kent’s pace seemed to slow. He shifted the vehicle into reverse and slowly backed up to speak to Kent again.

“With that snail’s pace of yers, it’ll be sundown before ya even make it halfway to the city,” Willy spoke, another chuckle rising in his chest. He stopped the vehicle and motioned for Kent to get in, “At least let me drive ya.” 

Kent looked at him skeptically. Wouldn’t Willy get in trouble for helping him escape? He didn’t want to cause Willy his badge, but his legs were tensing up and pleading for him to stop walking. He scrutinized Willy. 

“How do I know that this isn’t a trick?” Kent asked, skeptically. “How do I know you won't bring me back to the camp?” 

“Get in, lad,” Willy spoke, a wry smile spreading across his lips. “Then, we’ll see if it’s a trick, eh?” 

Kent pursed his lips together, seriously debating Willy’s offer. He sighed and walked around to the passenger’s side of the car. Kent hesitated - his hand hovering over the door handle.

Willy spoke again, “You’ve been through a lot, lad. I’m not gonna make ye go back. I’m not heartless.” 

Kent glanced at Willy, allowing his words to set in. He reached his hand out and grabbed the handle. He opened it and plopped himself down in the seat. Willy smiled at his response, motioning for Kent to place the small safety belt over his lap.

“Now, let’s get you home,” Willy spoke. He turned the key in the ignition, letting out a hearty cackle as the vehicle roared back to life. “Hang on, lad. We’re going to do a little… off roadin’, heh.” 

Kent gripped the safety bar near his head, worried about Willy’s ability to drive. The drive over wasn’t pleasant, so Kent wasn’t eager to go through that again. It didn’t help that Willy was driving at a high speed in order to get Kent into the city limits faster. 

Kent looked out the window and gazed at the sky. He reached towards his chest and clasped his hand around his wedding ring once more.

“I’m coming home, Jodi.”

[some-internet-stranger]

revalink!!

https://www.tumblr.com/dizzying-faust/614856861677699072?source=share

(Answering that Other ask gave me the motivation to answer this one as well)

Thank you for the ask, it was a TON of fun, even If it took me forever to answer. Also, a little warning, this Post is LONG as HECK and Kind of rambly

Revalink- Ship It!!!!!!!

What made you ship it?

I played Breath of the Wild in 2021 during the lockdown because I was finally bored enough I guess? (Funfact, I actually hated Botw before it came Out, because I was a little hater and didn't Like that the Zelda formula was changing lolol). The important takeaway Here is, that I already knew the Story and all memory cutscenes before I played it. The Other cutscenes Not included were new to me, however.

Revali was the first Champion I ended up saving (revali's gale is the best ability and I needed it for the towers). I was faintly aware of the existence of Revalink but never seriously considered it. Now while I was freeing the Terminals and got Bits and pieces of dialogue I thought that it was funny to interpret Revali having a crush on Link and that being the reason he's so mean to him. And it is funny tbh, but at that Point it was Just a joke to me.

And then came the fight against Wind blight, and oh. The dialogue right before?? The dialogue after?????? I should mention at this point that I played the Game in German, so many translations were different. In english, right before the fight, Revali said something along the lines of "Good luck (...) I only lost because I was winging it" and german He tells Link to be careful ("be careful, you hear me?")(also the delivery of that line, bro, voice actor was Not messing around) This in on itself didn't make me ship it, but it Set the tone.

The scene after the fight when Revali is saved and gives Link His gale... I almost dont know how to Put it into words, but the tension in this Scene? When He Looks at Link as If waiting for him to say something? When He Turns around "nevermind Just Go"??? It feels Like there are so many Things left unsaid, Like There's so much more to be said, even though their relationship is technically wrapped up at this point? It honestly caught me so off guard. Not one Scene with any of the Other Champions has this Kind of tension, Not even mipha (who is a Love interest for Link).

Well, then I went on Tumblr and my fate was basically sealed, lol.

TL:DR: because I played the game

What are your favorite things about the ship?

I Love the Potential of this ship! Theres so many ways how this can be insanely funny (this is one sided rivals to lovers, does it get any better than that?), it can be so incredible sad (death!! Amnesia!! Letting Go!!! One sided!!! Unspoken!!! Not meant to be!!! Lots of Other Things Im forgetting!!)

Its INSANE how Well they Work together, especially since I doubt it was done on purpose.

I have so many more thoughts, but I can't Put them together properly, so I'll leave it at that. The next point is Sort of a continuation of what I Love about this ship anyway

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

The fact that this ship isnt Canon and will/can never be canon is actually one of the best things about it, in my opinion (dont know If its an unpopular opinion)

It fits right in, in a way.

I Love it when two characters are written in a way, were they Sort of complete each other. Where they Share parallels, goals, have opposing personalities that still Match somehow, where they are each Others Drive and Motivation. Where their Stories Just fit so Well together that you know that they were clearly written for each other.

Link and Revali were Not meant to work Well together, Not Like this at least. Of course Revali was written as a foil to Link (correct me If I'm wrong please, I think this was the Case), so them being opposing is intentional.

If you think about these characters for a certain amount of time, Just slightly more in depth, you will find yourself with the revelation that they are so very similar, they would likely be able to be friends If they Just worked through their differences. But they never do! They never have the time/ are too caught Up in pushing others away in their own ways. They could have been something, but never ended Up being.

This ties so nicely into the theme of destiny and fate (kinda.... I feel Like despite setting this Up as a theme, botw doesnt really Go anywhere with it, so it mostly works nicely in fanfiction and such... Although, If you think I missed something about botw, pls let me know. I'm Not an expert on themes)

Theyre doomed by the narrative and the narrative Said they could never be, so they never were (Its kinda fun how that element is true in the real world as Well as in game)(is what I'm getting at)(theyre Not written as Love interests but MAN do they Work as a romantic couple)(cruel, poetic, amazing, ughhh?!???)(them working Well together as a couple was a coincidence, which again, opposes the destiny thing)(this ship has me in a chokehold, can you Tell)

I'm Just saying a bunch of words, I Hope they make sense... I might have also went off the rails a bit... Eh

If you're still here, thank you so much for reading!!

I do actually really Love answering my Inbox and playing ask games, pls dont let my imcompetence to answer them in a timely manner discourage you from sending one😅😅

[achoshistor]

[totk] alternate dimension???

HAHA ok i simply can't go without writing this down but this time i will try my best to omit all spelling errors to preserve readability... tbh i wouldnt read this if you havent finished the geoglyphs

[spoilers!!]

ok im gonna be honest i've only finished botw and totk so this is gonna be moreso why the alternate timeline from botw is plausible in comparison to the actual placement of the timeline bc thats too much thinking and its been like a million bajillion years since i read the historia.

ok so firstly zelda doing different things in the past is def why the line would have changed from botw to totk but why was zelda the one who went back in time?? In botw the divine beasts are literally analogous to the current sages which is basically

vah rudania/daruk = yunobo

vah naboris/urbosa = riju

vah ruta/mipha = sidon

vah medoh/revali = tulin

that covers all four but what about link?? link gets his own divine beast (master cycle) too so why is zelda the sage and not link?? besides i heard this mentioned somewhere else (i forgot where) but link has the ability to literally slow down time when hes drawing his bow or looking through the scope and he can pause time with the menu but idk if thats actually canon LOL. either way link can also control time like zelda. But speaking of divine beasts the 4 helms can be found in totk as well but the item descriptions call them zonai while the general look of the pieces is clearly sheikha which is weird cuz whaaaat?? also idk maybe nintendo just wanted a way to explain amiibo gear but this just suggests that the divine beasts themsleves are also zonai of some sort. Ik people are saying they dont mention the divine beasts at all but impa and i think like one or two other npcs mention them meaning they are still here but zonai somehow which doesnt make sense in the context of botw.

also aside from the divine beasts theres some other things of note too: firstly, your house in hateno which zelda STOLE 😭😭liek man i paid good money for that sign... 3000 rs.... this is p minor but why would she just take the sign away unless it wasnt already there?? I mean ok maybe link wanted to live with her

[zora arc spoilers]

anyways point two about yona... tbh i thought she was ganondorfs spy or something at first because she came out of nowhere... im assuming she's muzu's daughter but we saw no sign at all of her in botw... maybe the devs hated sidlink that much lolol. In all seriousness tbh her appearance does seem to point to a shift in the events of 100 years ago unless she's not from hyrule which seems unlikley seeing that sidon grew up in zora's domain according to the botw dlc.

[zora spoilers over]

ok last thing... the bottomless swamp is gone!!

like whaaat theres a pond there now

I'm like 99% sure this is just because they needed a body of water that you can drop into safely but its also the only pond on ground thats actually got the lily pads from the sky in it which is interesting. I don't think they added any other new bodies of water aside from this though. Lorewise though it makes no sense at all that they removed that whole giant skeleton from here in a few years and even if they did iirc the ground around it was crackly and dry. Lanaryu/Zorana used to all be a desert and they said it took hundreds of years for it to become fertile so its kind of nonsensical that this area would only take a little while...

overall i think this is probably just nintendo trying to make it so that totk can be standalone but man it cant be that hard to write coherent lore

[fuumiku]

hiiiii you don't need to reply to this i just wanted to say thank you for the kimbliza :)c its always refreshing to see riza rarepairs and i think your brain is huge for liking kimblee/riza ... i rarely see people being interested in it and i think thats a shame when they only have one interaction in the entire series BUT it is kimblee calling riza out on her bullshit while also calling her ojouchan/little lady like cmon... just that leaves possibility for such an interesting dynamic.... and im personally obsessed with the valentines day art bc this meme instantly came to my mind when i saw it LMAO anyway!! thanks again for sharing your kimbliza i hope to get to see more of your art/thoughts of them!!! have a nice day!!

Omg thank you so much! :D I don’t usually answer asks like these out of self-consciousness but the meme is too accurate to keep to myself and you are sooo right! I loved your tags as well lol they gave me a good chuckle.

I can’t find the post again, but I once read a post that went like "the reason that you’re both touch-starved and touch-averse is that you’ve spent so long without human touch that you interpret every contact as a threat" and I really do think that fits them both. Hehe might as well put a song I love here that fits them and this theme really well: Touch by July Talk

If you want more of my thoughts, @fumifooms is the blog to look at! I’ll link my kimbliza tag on there here. I recently did a sort of masterpost of kimbliza crumbs in canon because I am starved. I’ll also shout out @tombraxas because they churn out awesome kimbliza posts and fanfictions regularly! I owe it to them for having radicalized me as a kimbliza shipper lol

Kimblee literally meaningfully impacted Riza’s character fundamentally so hard like damn!! For a rarepair that is a massive win. Idk the interaction they had feels so special. I do think people tend to forget that Kimblee doesn’t say the things he does out of malice, ouugh he’s so interesting!! I think Kimblee and Riza have soo many parallels actually. Blunt and strong convictions vs quiet, reserved and a follower. Both ready to kill their superior/commanding officer if the situation demands it. His iconic “don’t avert your eyes from the dead” speech was originally meant for her not Roy and no one can take any of this away from me. I’m like Denji eating the cake with my hands lolol. The flavor kimbliza has is simply unmatched. Riza is my special wet cat little war criminal princess (Wet cat and war criminal have the same first letters, if not equivalent then explain 🤨 /j)

I do plan on making more kimbliza art yes! I actually have a few actual Valentine’s day themed ones in the works lol. I’m rather slow and busy though… ;w; Also fics! I’ve already made two short ficlets, see them on my ao3! I’ve been hyperfixating on them for like 2 months now with no sign of stopping… I have so many wips. My kimbliza spotify playlist is my longest playlist ever 😭 I scoured both ao3 and ff.net and read everything about them I could find. I may be obsessed.

[jcwriting]

Written in the Stars

summary ↬ being soulmates with a werewolf? pretty easy. being jungkook’s soulmate? the easiest thing in the world. there’s only one teensy tiny problem. he doesn’t want to fuck you.

pairing ↬ werewolf!jungkook x reader

genre ↬ soulmate!au, abo verse, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort (this is so fucking dramatic and for what)

word count ↬ 10.4k my hand slipped

warnings ↬ swearing, angst (but with a happy ending bc im a sappy bitch), jk is stupid in love (emphasis on stupid), mentions of violence (very brief and i don’t go into too much detail but just to warn yall), slight nsfw (sex is a big topic for like half of this but not sex is had...i know im shocked too), half of this is background info/setting up the story the other half is finally addressing the summary lolol, jk is kind of an asshole but he has reasons!!!!!

authors note ↬ hello lovelies! here’s a small little thing for you all (laughs in 10k word count). this has been sitting in my drafts for fucking ever and i just needed to get it out there and out of my hands. im thinking about writing a part two where the actual ~*/sex/*~ is had but im still on the fence about that. please let me know what you think! i literally crave your interactions so pls dont be shy,,,,,okay love you bye :)

(ps i was so close to naming this Rewrite the Stars but since this has absolutely nothing to do with The Greatest Showman i didn’t. but i was close,,,,so fucking close)

You always knew Jeon Jungkook was destined for great things.

It was written in the stars, your mother had told you after he had first stepped foot into your family-owned grocery store. Your mother didn’t have any special powers, she just had a thing for astrology. While you normally shrugged off her random proclamations about divine intervention and planetary alignments, you found that Jungkook was something you couldn’t ignore or chalk up as your mother’s latest tea leaf reading.

From the moment you set eyes on him you knew he was different. While your family held zero claim to any sort of mystical or magical inclinations, you were well aware of those who did. It was no secret that non-humans roamed the Earth in plain sight, even though it had taken humans eons to realize this. After years of savage wars and civil unrest, agreements had come into place and governing bodies were adjusted to accept the changes that had finally been made. But, this was all before your time. You were the generation that was born into the period of peace, the first children to not experience bloodshed before they could walk. The world you knew now was almost a complete one-eighty of what it had been.

Where before those who were not of human blood had to do everything they could to blend in, now could be free of the shadows. Your classrooms had both humans and non-humans in their rosters. Some of your teachers were hybrids. Curriculum expanded to teach humans about a world that had once been entirely unknown to them. One of your favorite teachers was a witch who regaled your tenth grade class with stories of goblin wars, wizard duels, and vampire covens. All tales that you had once thought were nothing but fiction were now anything but.

Which is why, the second Jeon Jungkook entered the grocery store that your parents owned and that you had worked at since you were old enough to speak in full sentences, you knew who he was. You didn’t even question it.

He was a werewolf. A powerful one. You could see it in the way he carried himself. The purposeful strides he took down the narrow aisles, the confidence in his broad shoulders. Humans weren’t nearly as sensitive as their hybrid counterparts but you also paid attention in your classes. Or, perhaps you were more aware than other humans. Never in your life did you have the issues other faced when meeting a non-human for the first time. You always knew who they were without them having to tell you. You just knew.

So, when Jeon Jungkook stepped up to your register with a bottle of water and some raw beef, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t bend under his dark gaze or shuffle your feet in an awkward attempt to break the silence. Instead, you flashed him your customer service smile and rang up his items. He didn’t say a word as he paid, barely sparing you a second glance as he strode out of the store.

“He’s going to be a great and powerful man,” your mother said in that feathery light voice of hers. “It was written in the stars.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

Jeon Jungkook came into your store everyday for the next month. He bought the same thing every time. A bottle of water and a package of raw beef. The only time he spared you any words was to say thank you or the occasional hello if the sun was shining. Usually, he was alone. Sometimes, he came with a few members of his pack. You liked those days. He smiled a little brighter and talked a little louder when they were around. Especially around Taehyung.

Then, after a month, he didn’t come in. Not for an entire week. From Monday to Sunday, you hadn’t seen a hide nor hair of him. A part of you was worried, so worried that you almost stopped Taehyung in the middle of the street to ask of Jungkook’s whereabouts before realizing how insane that made you look, the other part was chastising yourself for caring. Jeon Jungkook was a customer. Nothing more, nothing less.

The following Monday had come and you had finally stopped glancing at the sliding doors every five minutes. You no longer expected his commanding presence to rock your little world. Instead, you continued your day as if it had been any other. That was, until, Jeon Jungkook stepped through the entrance looking as if he was walking on air. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“Did you have a good heat?” You asked when he stepped up to your register. Jungkook fumbled the water bottle he had been setting onto the conveyer belt before turning to stare at you.

“What did you just say?”

You didn’t shrink under his intense glare. “I was asking if you enjoyed your heat. Seems like you did.”

“How do you know I was in my rut?”

“Oh, is rut the correct terminology? Sorry, they always interchanged them in class, I was never sure what was appropriate.” You shrugged and rang up his items. “It was kind of obvious, though. You seemed pretty agitated about a week-and-a-half ago, then you disappear for a week, and now you’re back looking happier than ever. If it wasn’t your rut then I want to know where you went on vacation because that’s where I’m heading to next.”

Jungkook laughed. That almost made you jump out of your skin. You had never heard him laugh before. It was throaty, it was deep, and it was wonderful. “I’ll be sure to send you the link to the Airbnb.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

He smirked. “I’m here every day, aren’t I?”

You tilted your head as you accepted the cash he handed to you. “Clearly, you’re not that reliable.”

Jungkook laughed again. It was becoming your new favorite sound. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to appear flaky.”

“You’re forgiven,” you decided as you handed him the plastic bag of his purchases. Teasingly, you added, “just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

He flashed you a smile that showed off his sharpened canines. “Don’t worry, darling. I never make the same mistake twice.”

Jeon Jungkook kept his promise. He showed up everyday, like clockwork. Bought the same thing. Arrived at the same time. The only thing that changed was how he treated you. It wasn’t that he treated you badly before, he had always been polite. But now, he talked to you. He asked you questions and answered yours. More often than not, he laughed.

(It had become your favorite sound.)

For three months, this continued. The two of you had settled into a comfortable routine, something you relied on and expected. Until, he changed that.

Until, Jeon Jungkook asked you out on a date.

“What did you just say?”

“Are you free? Tonight?” You glanced around, almost expecting to see some sort of supermodel posing behind you to explain the absolute absurdity of the situation. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the hidden cameras. I think I’m getting Punk’d.”

Jungkook sighed and placed both hands on the counter that separated the two of you. “Look at me.” You did. Slowly and warily, but you did. “Does it look like I’m lying to you?”

Narrowing your eyes, you regarded him carefully. He seemed serious. But, then again, do you ever really know someone? “I don’t know. I’ve never actually seen you lie before so I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Fine. Ask me what color my shirt is.”

“What color is your shirt?”

“White,” he deadpanned. You glanced down at his chest. His shirt was black.

“Jungkook!”

He threw his head back and released a full bellied laugh. Even in your exasperation you couldn’t help but soften a little. “I’m sorry, darling. I couldn’t help myself.” Annoyed, you huffed and spun to face the cash register. Stabbing your finger onto the touchscreen, you ignored Jungkook’s obvious presence on the opposite side of the counter. Until his hand reached around the card reader and grasped a hold of your chin. The warmth of his fingers forced your head to turn to meet his.

“Come to dinner with me.” His voice was nothing but a rumble in his chest, his eyes so black and all-consuming you couldn’t do anything but agree with him. He seemed pleased by your response as his fingers tightened against your skin and a grateful smile flicked past his lips. His gaze darted down to your mouth and your breath froze in your chest.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

“No.” You tried to shake your head but his grip didn’t allow you much movement. He was taken aback by your answer, a small frown tugging at his mouth. You quickly backtracked to fix the situation. “I don’t want our first kiss to be in a grocery store. That’s a new low that I refuse to reach.”

Jungkook chuckled and tapped your chin gently. “Alright, darling. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Again, he kept his promise to you. He showed up at your parents house exactly at seven, wearing a button-down shirt and slacks. The tulips he had gotten for you was thrust into your hands the moment you opened the door. Flashing him a genuine smile, you hurried into the kitchen to set them in water while your mother grilled him on his birth time. You were quick to drag him away, practically throwing him towards the car as you waved goodbye.

“Sorry,” you sighed as Jungkook opened the passenger door for you. “She has a…thing for astrology. She’s probably creating your star map or whatever right now.”

“It’s okay,” he responded once he got into the drivers seat. “It’s sweet of her to care.”

You snorted. “She’s delusional is what she is.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t believe in astrology?”

“Do you?”

Jungkook shrugged as he pulled out of your dirt driveway. He looked so damn attractive behind the wheel it was honestly unfair. “Not really saying I do or don’t. All I know is that there are a lot of things out there that are out of our control. If believing in the stars and planets helps you gain some of that control back, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

“God, don’t talk like that in front of my mother. She’ll want to start dating you.”

He grinned and placed a hand on your knee. “Tell her I’m already taken.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond to that. Not that he didn’t give you one, it was just that you literally had nothing to say. With just one sentence he opened the floodgates of your brain and the amount of thoughts that were flying through your conscious was painful. Anxiety fluttered in your stomach and you pressed your lips together to keep you from word vomiting onto him. No, it was better to keep your mouth shut and let the moment pass.

By the time you reached the restaurant you were a trembling mess of nerves. Were you guys dating? You thought this was just a ‘testing the waters’ date, not a ‘you’re my girlfriend now’ date. Did you have to make it Facebook official? You hated that shit.

Jungkook didn’t comment on your obvious distress, though. He merely placed a hand on the small of your back, ignoring how you jerked in surprise, and led you into the quiet bistro. Nodding politely to the hostess who was practically panting at the sight of him (you honestly couldn’t blame her) and pulled out your chair for you. When he sat down, he started talking. Idle chat at first. Commenting on one of the dishes, asking about the college classes you were taking at your local university. Before you realized it, wine was in your glass and your shoulders were loose. Previous nerves forgotten, you lost yourself in Jungkook. You drank, you ate, you laughed, and genuinely enjoyed his company. Honestly, it was the best date you’d ever been on.

“I have to be honest with you,” Jungkook spoke after he finished his raw steak. “I have an ulterior motive for asking you here tonight.”

“Oh,” you mumbled around the shrimp you had just tossed in your mouth. “So…this isn’t a date?”

“No, it is,” Jungkook clarified quickly around a dry chuckle. He seemed…nervous. It put you on edge immediately. “This is definitely a date. And, also, more.”

“More? What, is this a proposal too?” You were joking. A 100% joking. But Jungkook was staring at you so seriously it made you panic. “Jungkook, if you get down on one knee here I swear-”

“I’m not proposing,” he assured you. “This is something more than that.”

“More?” You parroted. Jungkook sighed.

“Do you know what a true mate is?”

Right there, in that quaint little bistro, on a date with quite possibly the most untouchable man you’d ever met, he explained how you were irrevocably his. His true mate, his soulmate.

Jungkook explained everything in great detail, which you appreciated, because honestly, you had no words. He explained how when he was born, the witch who cared for him told his father that his future glared brightly ahead of him, but only when he met his other half. True mates were rare. Mating was common, the wolves in his pack could have multiple mates or a lifelong one, but true mates were destiny. Someone or something out there had forged the two of you together. You were essentially each others other half. He was made for you and you were made for him.

“But…aren’t true mates only for wolves? I thought it’s impossible for a human to be a true mate,” you asked in a shaky voice once Jungkook took a breath.

“It was supposed to be impossible. Until, I met you.” Jungkook stared at you with a sort of reverence that made your entire body blush. “I have no idea how you are. I’ve spent hours researching. I’ve consulted with members of my pack and others. No one knows why.”

“Are you sure, though? I mean…what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not.” Jungkook shook his head. “I visited the witch right after I met you. She took one look at me and told me that I had finally found my true mate. She said she’d never seen a future so bright before.”

You had no words for that. For the first time in your life, you were speechless. Jungkook seemed to understand. He let you sit in silence as he paid for the bill and walked you out to the car. The drive back to your parents house was the same. You couldn’t speak. The shock rendered you stupid.

By the time Jungkook pulled into the driveway you still hadn’t spoken a word to each other. You stepped out of the car before he could open the door for you. Walking up to the porch steps in a trance, you didn’t hear him follow you until he clasped your wrist in his hand. Turning to face him, you were surprised to see his brown eyes so big. They practically sparkled in the moonlight and he looked so soft and sweet you nearly melted into the wood beneath your feet.

“Please,” he whispered. “Can you…just - are you okay? You’ve been so quiet. I’m worried I’ve scared you off or something.”

With that voice, it was impossible to deny him. So, you said the first thing that popped in your head. “Do we have to make it Facebook official?”

Jungkook stared at you before bursting into laughter. “Really? That’s all you have to say?”

You blushed and glanced down. “I’m just worried, that’s all. I can’t remember my Facebook password so even if you wanted to change it I don’t think it’ll work.”

“So that’s why you never accepted my friend request,” Jungkook teased. Before you could squeak out a response, he wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you forward. You kept your arms crossed across your chest but let yourself fall against him.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whined as you buried your face into his shoulder. He smelled so good, a mixture of pine and spice. “My brain hasn’t worked since you told me I’m yours, so bear with me.”

Jungkook chuckled and gently swayed you from side to side. “Does that mean you’re okay with this? All of this?”

Sighing, you lifted your head up and stepped away from him. Jungkook was not impressed and pulled you back to him. Your heart swelled in your chest and you wrapped your arms around his neck in consolation. “Honestly? I haven’t really processed anything. You’ve had your whole life to come to terms with this. I just found out thirty minutes ago that I’m someone’s soulmate. It’s a lot to take in.”

Jungkook nodded as he tapped his fingers against your hips. “I know. It’s a lot…I’m a lot. I just want you to know that you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to be with me. I won’t-”

Now it was your turn to burst into laughter. You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth. It was easily the most absurd thing you’d ever heard. “Jungkook, I want to make something very clear. I have no problem being your true mate. That’s not the issue here. Well, there really isn’t an issue. It’s just…hard to believe, I guess. I have to process that this is my new reality.”

“Really?” Jungkook perked up and looked so fucking cute you couldn’t help but cup his cheeks. His skin was so warm despite the cold autumn air that surrounded you both. “You want to do this? Be with me? Be mine?” All you could do was nod. You were so overwhelmed with emotions. The shock was evident, but a piece of you was so happy. You felt whole.

Jungkook’s face split into a wide smile that caused his nose to scrunch up. He wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you around. Squealing, you slung your legs around his hips and held on. Normally, you’d rather die than show this much affection to someone. But, this was Jungkook. Your soulmate.

“So…what do we do now?” You asked once Jungkook set you down. “Is there, like, a ceremony or something?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted as he stared down at you. He had a hand against your jaw and was rubbing your cheek tenderly. “I really didn’t think I’d get this far.”

You scoffed at his ridiculousness. While recognizing you were Jungkook’s true mate was going to take some time, believing that he thought you’d deny him was utter nonsense. “What if…what if we date, first?” You suggested timidly. “I know that sounds kind of weird considering we’re supposed to be the loves of each others lives. But, I don’t really know you all that well. And, I think this is going to take sometime for me to get used to. Maybe we should date, get to know each other, and just learn how to be with one another.”

“Whatever you want,” Jungkook agreed. “We can do whatever you want. Just as long as I have you, I’m happy.”

Two years passed.

Two blissful, wonderful years. Two years of dating, two years of loving, two years of being Jeon Jungkook’s. It was everything you could’ve asked for and more. You had never felt so loved and cherished in your entire life. He respected you, he took care of you, and most importantly, he was there for you in every sense. Since the moment you met him, you hadn’t been alone. He hadn’t let you. Jungkook knew you better than you knew yourself.

And, it was the same for him. You were there for him when he transitioned into the leader of his pack. You were there when he took over the CEO position from his father and encouraged and supported him every step of the way. You let yourself be loved and in return he let you love him. It was wonderful.

Except, for one tiny thing.

While the emotional aspect of your relationship flourished and bloomed into something beautiful, the physical side remained stagnant. Make out sessions and heavy petting were a norm in your relationship. At first, it didn’t bother you. In fact, you loved that Jungkook was taking things so slow and so seriously. But, eventually, your needs began to grow. You found yourself wanting him in more ways than one, wants that only he could satisfy. Jungkook refused. Every time.

It wasn’t like he refused your every need. No, Jungkook was extremely attentive. When it came to himself, that’s when things got dicy. He had no problem spending hours between your legs, worshipping you until you were crying from the overstimulation. Yet, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near him. Not without lack of trying on your part. The minute your hands went down to his waistband, he pushed you away. Every time you tried to dip your mouth to the obvious bulge in his pants, he lifted you up and kissed you breathless until you forgot your name. It wasn’t until after a year of dating that he finally let you grind on his clothed cock. Even then, he held off until you finished and then walked out with quite possibly the worst case of blue balls. You hated that he did this to himself. The worst part was, you couldn’t understand why.

The one time you had brought it up to him it had resulted in the worst fight the two of you had ever gotten into. It was the only argument that was never really resolved. After the yelling and the tears, all you got out of Jungkook was that mating with a wolf was not pretty. It was extremely dangerous and he refused to put you in that kind of danger. End of discussion. No matter how hard you tried to persuade him or broach the subject, he shut it down. Hard. Eventually, you gave up.

He even spent his ruts away from you. Every three months, he left you for a week. You knew he had a place somewhere up in the mountains and you assumed that’s where he went. You had no idea. There was no point even asking to come along. You loved your boyfriend and didn’t want to purposely give him a heart attack. You hated it when he left. As much as you tried to hide it and convince him that you were just fine, he wasn’t stupid. Being away from him was tough. A piece of you was missing whenever he was gone. And you were only whole again when he returned.

This past week had been one of those weeks. He had left on Sunday for the mountains. He was agitated and clingy, how he normally was pre-rut. Jungkook wouldn’t let you leave his side and you spent most of the weekend on his lap or wrapped in his arms. Not that you minded. When he left your parents house on Sunday night, you’d had to coax him out of the door. Promising him that you’d be okay and that you’d see him next week. It wasn’t until several kisses later did Jungkook finally leave.

While you’d been doing this for two years, it never got easier. More manageable? Sure. But definitely not easier. All you could do was go through the motions. You went to work at the local bakery, came home and helped your mom with dinner, watched TV with your dad before going to bed. Taehyung and Jimin would visit often, threatened by Jungkook to keep you company. While you assured them it wasn’t necessary, you secretly didn’t mind. They made you laugh and made you temporarily forget your boyfriend was miles away from you. Sometimes, if you were lucky, he’d call you to tell you goodnight. But those times were rare. Normally, you didn’t hear from him until Friday or Saturday when he was finally coming out of his rut and returning to the world.

By the time Sunday rolled around, you were a jittery ball of nerves. Not in a bad sense. You were just excited. The anticipation killed you and it took all of your willpower to sit and wait for his text to tell you to come over. Your parents always left you alone on these Sundays, unable to deal with your hyperactiveness and constant fidgeting.

This Sunday was no different. You puttered around your room for the better part of the day. You spent the other part in the kitchen, baking like your life depended on it. Jungkook loved your cookies and you always made sure to come over with at least three batches after his ruts. He always said that was his second favorite part about coming home, after seeing you, of course.

You had just finished packaging the final batch in a glass cookie jar when your phone dinged. You didn’t have to read the message, you knew exactly what it said. Pure joy rushed through your system as you threw on your coat and shouted a hasty goodbye to your parents. Juggling the cookies and car keys, you sprinted to your car. The drive to Jungkook’s was thankfully not long. About ten minutes, as long as you didn’t hit any traffic on the main road. Luck was on your side, though, and you showed up at Jungkook’s house in eight minutes.

Taehyung’s car was in the driveway when you pulled up, which wasn’t odd. Although Jungkook owned the house, the members of his pack were almost always around. While most preferred to travel in their wolf forms, you knew Taehyung and Namjoon preferred cars. Something about being able to listen to their own music without comments from the peanut gallery. You didn’t really understand and didn’t really need to. You had just chalked it up as one of their many quirks.

Carrying the trays of cookies in both hands, you shut your car door with your foot before speed-walking up the stone walkway to Jungkook’s home. The screen door was shut, but the wooden door was swung wide open. You had just reached for the metal handle when you heard it.

A deep, threatening growl ripped through the peaceful quiet and froze you in place. You knew it was Jungkook. While you had only heard it once, you’d never forgotten it. It was when the two of you had attended a party and an alpha from a neighboring pack had cornered you in the hallway. Jungkook had found you cowered against the wall as the other alpha had caged you in. The sound that had left his chest had given you equal parts comfort and fear. Comfort, because he was there and you knew you were safe. Fear, because you could see in the way he bared his teeth and how his muscles vibrated, he had been furious and bloodthirsty.

That’s what you felt now, fear.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

From your vantage point in front of the screen door, you could see directly into the kitchen. Taehyung was leaning against the granite countertop and Jungkook was seated at the island. The tension was so thick you practically choked on it.

“Enough, Taehyung.”

“No,” Taehyung snapped, seeming just as angry as Jungkook. “I’m not dropping it. Not this time.”

“Yes, you will,” Jungkook snarled. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Too fucking bad.” While Taehyung was also an alpha, he acted so much like a beta you never really noticed. Until now. “I’m not going to sit by and watch you do this to yourself anymore. Not spending your ruts correctly is only causing you more harm than good.”

“I’m doing things the way I want to, and it’s working-”

“The hell it is!” Jungkook growled at the interruption but Taehyung ignored him. “It’s not working, and you know it. Anyone with two fucking eyes knows it. It’s getting so bad that the pack is noticing, too. Even Namjoon has realized something is wrong, and he’s as oblivious as they come.”

“If they have a problem with me they can take it up with me.”

“No, they can’t. Because you won’t listen. Your head is so far up your ass you can’t even hear yourself anymore. What you’re doing right now is not working. Something needs to change.”

“Like what?” Jungkook spat.

“You know what,” Taehyung bit back. Jungkook was practically vibrating from rage. You knew you needed to go get someone, someone from the pack to calm the two of them down. Things were only escalating, but you couldn’t move. Your brain screamed at you to run but your legs were rooted in place. “That’s is what’s so frustrating, Jungkook. This, all of this, could be solved. She’s right there-”

“Don’t.” Jungkook stood up so fast the chair he sat on flew backwards and hit the wall with a resounding crack.

“Why?” Taehyung threw his arms up in the air. “Why not? I don’t get it-”

“Because I don’t want her!” Jungkook yelled, the force of it rang throughout the house. You had no idea who the she was that they were referring to. You assumed it was someone from the pack. It was well-known that wolves with human mates sometimes turned to other she-wolves to help with their ruts. You figured that’s what Jungkook did whenever he went away for a week. It had bothered you at first, but you knew he had his needs and that they were at a biological level. You refused to make him feel guilty or ashamed for taking care of himself.

“You don’t want her?” Taehyung was enraged. You could tell by the way he straightened his spine and unfurled himself to his full height. Jungkook bristled in response and the muscles in his back strained against the thin material of his shirt.

“No, I don’t!” Jungkook exploded. “What don’t you understand about that? I don’t want her around me. I don’t need her, I’m fine on my own. The thought of having her there when…God - it makes me physically ill.”

“She’s your girlfriend. Above all of that, your true mate. You’re seriously going to deny yourself of her, for what? Just because you don’t like having her around?”

Oh.

That’s when it hit you. They weren’t talking about some random she-wolf. They were talking about you. You were the one Jungkook didn’t want. You were the one Jungkook didn’t need. You were the one he didn’t like having around. As the weight of the words sunk into your mind, you felt your chest becoming tighter and tighter.

Then, you’re heart broke right in half. You dropped the container of cookies and didn’t flinch when it shattered against the wooden slats. The sound unstuck your feet from their position on the porch and your fight or flight system took over. Without a second thought, you turned on your heel and ran.

You didn’t know if anyone was behind you, you didn’t turn around to check. Hands fumbled for the car door as you threw yourself into the drivers side. Pain ricocheted throughout your chest cavity and you struggled to breathe. Your brain was blank, the only thing your mind did was move your body to get you somewhere safe. You had to leave and you had to leave now.

Miraculously, your fingers found your keys and inserted them into the ignition on the second try. A flutter of movement occurred to the left of you but your eyes didn’t let you look that way. Instead, they focused on the rearview mirror as you reversed out of the driveway. Your right hand found the gearshift and moved it to drive. Soon, you were tearing down the street as your ears refused to register the agonized howls that echoed behind as you kept staring forward. Adrenaline pumped through your system and your body shivered in response, the splash of hormones had created a blanket of fake calm over you. The emotions, the pain, the thoughts were swirling inside of you, ready to break free and drown you, but your brain wouldn’t allow it.

It wasn’t until you reached the end of your long driveway that you felt the original spike of adrenaline fade away. Your mother was in the front, tending to the flowers, and looked up when she saw your car fly into its usual spot. She stood up and her face twisted into a frown when you got out of your seat.

“Honey, your aura…it’s concerning.” The blanket was yanked away and the pain crashed over you.

You couldn’t say a word, all you could do was collapse in your mother's arms and cry, cry, cry.

It took you two days to calm down. The tears had stopped rolling and your shoulders no longer shook from trying to hold your sobs behind your teeth. Your mother hadn’t left your side, leaving your father to answer the door whenever someone knocked. The only person who did was Taehyung and Jimin. Jungkook never showed up.

Well, that was a lie.

Jungkook did show up every morning and night, without fail. But he never came to your doorstep.  Instead, he was in the woods behind your house, patrolling, not daring to leave the protection of the forest. A part of you wondered if he was respecting your obvious need for space or if your mother had paid a witch to set up boundary lines that didn’t allow him to cross. Either way, you were grateful that you couldn’t see him. There was an incessant tugging in your heart to be near him but you staunchly ignored it, which would’ve been impossible if you saw his achingly beautiful face.

I don’t want her. I don’t need her. Having her there makes me physically ill. Those three sentences played in a constant loop in your head, like a horror movie you couldn’t escape from. You were the protagonist who couldn’t escape the maze, but the villain wasn’t kind enough to kill you off. No matter what you did, your brain wouldn’t stop repeating those three sentences. Your mother burned sage, she pressed crystals into your palms, she muttered ritual after ritual, but nothing worked.

You hated how affected you were. You had always told yourself that you would never be the girl who’d get so wrapped up in someone else they didn’t know who they were anymore. Independence was something you prided yourself on, but you seemed to be at a complete loss now. You couldn’t stop the waves of sadness and self-hatred at your depressed state. It was amazing how empty you felt yet so full of pain at the same time. Your mind and heart couldn’t seem to decide which hurt worse; your heart for having your soulmate so obviously reject you, or your brain for trying to make sense of the situation. When did this happen? How did this happen? How had you been so blind as to not see it?

“I don’t think we’re soulmates,” you rasped to your mom on the third morning. It had been the first words you had spoken to her since you had fell into her arms. She looked up from the bundle of herbs she was smoking.

“Why do you say that?”

You stared at your hands that had curled in on themselves. “I don’t make him happy. I-I never realized how uncomfortable I made him. I wish I had known. How did I miss it?”

Your mother tutted gently and gathered you in her arms. She smelled of lavender and wax. “This is good. I’m glad you’re letting yourself have this moment. Let’s sit in this and allow yourself to be embedded here.” But you didn’t want to have this moment. You didn’t want to have any moment and you’ve felt enough to last a lifetime. Instead, you rolled over, let sleep overtake you and tried to ignore the distant howling that rattled your window pane.

By nightfall of the fourth day, you were forced out of bed. Partly by choice, partly by force. Your parents had dipped out to run to the grocery store, despite your mother’s insistence that she could stay. You and your father managed to convince her to leave and you had gotten up to wave them goodbye. Sure, your heart was broken, but the least you could do was kiss them on the cheek before they left. You had turned around to shuffle into the kitchen to try and shovel something down your dry throat when a loud knock sounded at the front door. Hesitating, you carefully peeked through the kitchen window and saw Jimin on your front doorstep, dressed in all black.

Sighing, you stumbled over and pulled the door open. You figured you couldn’t avoid them for much longer. “Hey, Jimin.”

“Christ, you look like shit.”

You huffed out a laugh as Jimin stared at you in horror, not having the energy to be offended. You also knew, in a weird way, that this was Jimin’s way of caring for you. “Yeah. My mother’s covered all the mirrors in the house.”

Jimin nodded as he glanced at you from head to toe. “I want to ask if you’re okay but…” He gestured to your gaunt frame swaddled in a heavy sweatshirt and sweatpants. For the first time in two years, they were your own clothes, not Jungkook’s.

“I’m fine, Jimin,” you heaved a heavy sigh and leaned against the doorframe. “Do you want to come in? I think my mom boiled some tea not too long ago.”

Jimin shook his head. “Can’t. Jungkook would have a fit if I got that close to you right now. I’m already pushing my luck just by showing up.” He doesn’t care, you thought bitterly, and almost said it out loud but you caught yourself at the last second. Jimin wasn’t stupid, though. He knew what you were thinking. “Hey,” he murmured, eyes going soft, “are you ready to talk about it?”

“No.” You shook your head. A wave of sadness washed over you but the telltale prick of tears didn’t come.

Jimin understood. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he rocked back onto his heels. “Are you going to talk to him?”

Letting out a heavy breath, you crossed your arms over your chest. “I know I have to. I just…I just need time.”

“Take however long you need.”

It was another 48-hours before you finally snapped. While you had spent the majority of the two days that had passed to make yourself resemble a human being, you couldn’t focus. You couldn’t move on. Why?

Because Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone.

His presence was constant. He circled your house every hour of ever day, the large shadow of him in wolf form darkened the trees behind your house. The howling had stopped but the pacing hadn’t. You hoped he was at least sleeping, but then you got annoyed at yourself for caring. You didn’t know why he was out there, it made no sense. Jungkook’s words were so different from his actions it made your head spin.

But, you needed to move on with your life. You had to. The only way it was going to happen was if Jungkook did too. It hurt. God, did it hurt. Yet, as sad and utterly pathetic as it sounded, you were used to the pain at this point, had resigned yourself to it. A part of you worried you wouldn’t know what to do without it.

Shaking off that depressing thought, you tugged on your rain boots and stepped outside for the first time in a week. The air was heavy with the promise of rain, the clouds low and gray. You tugged the hood up on your sweater to prevent your hair from completely frizzing out before you walked to down the back deck steps.

The backyard of your parents house was expansive. The home you had grown up in sat on top of a sloping hill that your mother had turned into her personal greenhouse. You stepped past rows of raised garden beds and pruned plants until you reached the line where the neatly mowed grass met the twisted ferns of the forest floor. As you had suspected, the ground was scorched with the evidence of past rituals. While your mother hadn’t out right admitted, you had figured someone had come and created a boundary line. It was obviously specific to Jungkook since Jimin and Taehyung were still able to visit. While your mother’s methods were extreme, you understood. As difficult as it was to move on with your life with Jungkook sequestered to the forest, you couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like if he was within a few feet of you.

With a deep inhale, you sat down on the damp grass and waited. After a few minutes, you could hear the faint sounds of paws hitting the wet earth. The galloping got louder and louder until there was a momentary stretch of silence before it changed to footsteps.

When Jungkook emerged from the trees, you weren’t prepared. Although you knew you wouldn’t be, you still weren’t expecting it to hurt this bad. Your chest squeezed painfully at the first look of his broad form. Technically, it had been two weeks since you two had truly seen each other, the longest you’d ever gone. What hurt the most was how badly you longed for him. You wanted nothing more than to run straight into his arms, bury your face into his chest, and forget everything. Just forgive and give your heart what it wanted. But you remained firmly in place.

Jungkook looked as if he had seen a ghost. Which, to be fair, was probably true since you hadn’t seen the sun in seven days. His normally golden skin was pale and even from where you sat you could see the dark circles bruising under his eyes. Clearly, he hadn’t been sleeping. You hated that you noticed. You hated that you cared. He was dressed in all black and his chest strained against the material of his sweater. His hands were balled into tight fists at his side and the sight reminded you of why you were here.

“Hi.” Probably wasn’t the best start but it was the best you could do. Jungkook didn’t respond so you soldiered on. “I-I know you don’t want to be here, so I’ll make this quick. I just…wanted to apologize. I had no idea I made you so uncomfortable. I’m not sure how long you’ve felt this way about me, not that it really matters, but I wish you had told me sooner. Maybe things would’ve been easier for you, who knows.” You released a heavy sigh and tried to shove down the stone in your throat as you forced the next words out of your mouth. “But, all of that doesn’t matter anymore. I think I understand what you need, now. I know you loved me at one point, but I’m obviously not what you need anymore. And…t-that’s okay - I swear it is. All I want is for you to be happy, Jungkook. And I think, in order for that to happen, I need to move on. We both need to move on-”

“Stop it,” Jungkook broke in with a harsh voice that cut your sentence in half. “Stop talking.”

It felt like he had slapped you in the face. A wave of humiliation washed over you and you visibly flinched. Staggering to your feet, you locked your gaze onto your boots in an attempt to hide the tears that dripped down your nose. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, not expecting it to change anything. You began to turn away but Jungkook stopped you in your tracks, again.

“Wait, no - stop. Stop. Please…don’t go,” he pleaded. When you turned around, his eyes were frantic. Jungkook’s hand was raised from his side as if he thought about reaching out to you but something stopped him. His words were at war with one another and you were caught in the middle, at a loss for what he was trying so desperately to convey to you.

“Jungkook, I’m so confused.”

“I know. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” Jungkook tucked his head into his hands before dropping down into a squat. “This is all wrong. This is all so wrong.”

You knew you should walk away. You had said your piece, it was time to move on, just as you had said. Yet, you couldn’t. It was as if your heart was tethered to him and your body couldn’t handle the pain of walking away. “Listen-”

“I don’t know what to do.” He cut you off but the bubbles of anger that had risen from being interrupted popped once you saw how lost he looked. His tattooed fingers threaded through his hair, allowing you to see the pure anguish that twisted his features. “Whenever I feel like this, I come to you. Because you always know what to do. Any situation, no matter what, you can handle it. It’s something I’ve always admired about you.”

The way he spoke to you now, so reverently and so full of awe, made your head spin. Nothing made sense.  It was such a blatant contrast to the brutality that he had spat out a week ago. As much as you wanted to believe what he said now, those stupid words could not get out of your head. It was a constant reminder that never shut up.

“I don’t know what to do either,” you admitted in a quiet voice.

“Tell me,” Jungkook begged, as if he couldn’t and refused to comprehend what you had just told him. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Whatever you want from me, I’ll give you.”

You were shaking your head before he could finish. “There’s nothing you can do, Jungkook. Nothing.”

“Don’t say that.” He stared at you, horrified. “Don’t say that to me. Please, there has to be something.”

“What could there be?” You cried. Tears streamed down your cheeks now. “You said it yourself, being near me makes you sick. Why would I stay? Why would you want me to? I refuse to make you uncomfortable anymore - so that’s that.”

“It isn’t,” Jungkook argued back. “It can’t be. I-I can’t lose you, I can’t. I need to make this right, please just let me. Please.”

But, you were tired. You were so fucking tired. You were exhausted of the emotional rollercoaster that you were on that you just wanted to crawl away and hide. All the fight seeped out of you as your shoulders slumped forward. Jungkook saw this and the blood drained from his face. You were giving up, he could see it, and it scared the shit out of him.

“Jungkook, I need to go, okay? I-I can’t do this.”

“No!” Jungkook shouted and shot up to his feet. The pure panic that choked his voice brought on a fresh set of tears that you struggled to hold back. “Just let me explain, okay? I swear to God, after you hear what I have to say, if you still want me to, I’ll let you go. I won’t fight you on it. But, please let me tell you the truth. Give me a chance to make this right. You deserve that.”

You hesitated for a moment. Deep down, you knew you should let him talk. Not because you necessarily thought he deserved to, but because he was right. You did deserve the truth, no matter how much it broke your heart. With a heavy sigh and a quick swipe of your cheeks, you nodded. Once Jungkook was sure you weren’t going to leave, he began pacing. Looking every bit like the wild animal you knew him to be but never got to see.

“Mating with a werewolf is…brutal. It’s intense, it’s painful and it isn’t pretty. It’s essentially a breeding session where I use you as a vessel to fulfill my innate biological needs. It’s not romantic, it’s not gentle. Even for she-wolves it can be too much. The thought of subjecting you to something like that - that type of pain…I couldn’t fathom it. I don’t think you understand just how precious you are to me. The image of you being battered and bruised because of me, something I did…it tormented me, day and night.” He paused for a moment, the pained look in his eyes made you shiver. You hated that he had gone through all of this turmoil on his own, and you especially hated how you never made more of an effort to try and relieve him of it.

“I couldn’t do it. That’s partially the reason I waited so long to tell you that you were my true mate. I knew ruts were something I would never expose you to even though it’s such a huge part of my life, a wolf’s life.” Jungkook looked you straight in the eye, the intensity of his dark gaze took your breath away. “I know the practices other wolves partake in when their own heats or ruts arrive. I know you know them too. But, I need you to understand something. The moment you allowed me to be yours and vice versa, I haven’t had anyone else since. I swear on my life, I’ve spent every single one of my ruts alone. I wouldn’t and I won’t do that to you.”

“Isn’t that painful, though?” Your voice cracked but neither one of you acknowledged it. While your knowledge on ruts were expansive, having done plenty of research since being with Jungkook, you had obviously never experienced one.

“It’s manageable. It’s way more painful for a she-wolf to go through her heat alone than it is for a male.” Jungkook clenched and unclenched his fists as he resumed his pacing. “The worst part is being away from you. I’ve been going through ruts since puberty, I can handle them. But not being able to be with you for a whole week…I hated it. Still do. I dread that three month mark. And as time went on, I became more and more miserable. Being apart from you was almost unbearable but the other option…I never even allowed myself to consider it.

“It came to the point where the pack was noticing. I wasn’t getting the proper pheromonal release from my ruts and it was beginning to affect those around me. Taehyung has been on my ass for months now to get over myself and take you with me during my next rut. Each time I’d give him some excuse, but it was getting harder and harder to justify what I was doing. At first, I was convinced it was because I was protecting you. But you’ve been so understanding and so patient with me and my life, those excuses were becoming useless. Eventually, I think it was because I was protecting myself. I was - am - so scared. I’m terrified that I could hurt you when I’m like that. That I wouldn’t be able to notice or worse, ignored, if something happened to you. Living with that type of fear became debilitating. So, I just kept my mouth shut and kept you away from that part of me.”

Jungkook shook his head and chuckled humorlessly. “Now I know that was the worst possible thing I could do. That I was just hurting you more. What you walked into last Sunday was a culmination of my frustrations that I was refusing to deal with. While it’s not a valid reason, I’m well aware of that, I need you to know that what you heard was not the truth. It couldn’t be further from it. Because the truth is that I’m hopelessly in love with you and the thought of being without you hurts worse than I ever thought was possible.”

It wasn’t the first nor would it be the last time that Jungkook left you speechless. It took you a full minute to process what he had said. Jungkook granted you the silence although he became increasingly more agitated as time passed. His boots scuffed the dead leaves that littered the ground and his pacing led him closer to the ashes that lay before your feet. Then, he’d suddenly stalk off with a growl as he was forced to keep away.

“I-” you cleared your throat around the lump that had found a home there. “I had no idea. This whole time…I thought it was because you didn’t want me.”

“God, no.” Jungkook swore heavily as his muscles bunched and coiled beneath his clothes. “The - the fact that…you - fuck. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. That’s not it, that’s not it at all. You’re my dream girl, you’re the love of my life, and I want you every second of every day.”

Maybe it’s because you were emotionally drained and had no mental strength left. Maybe, you needed to hear those words from Jungkook more than you realized. Whatever the reason was, it wasn’t worth trying to figure out an explanation as you sunk to the ground and burst into tears.

Jungkook lost it across from you. Broken whines stained the air as he carded through his hair anxiously. He kept trying to get to you, to try to soothe you. But the boundary was unfortunately doing its job and each attempt was met with failure. Curses were spat out until eventually, he got as close as the boundary would let him and fell to his knees. He began spewing whatever came to mind first, unsure of what to do. All he knew was that you were crying because of him and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He thought hearing you cry from your bedroom window was torture, but nothing could compare to hearing you break down in front of him. Nothing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m sorry…please, I’m so sorry. I - don’t cry, darling. Please don’t. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

It wasn’t tears of heartbreak that leaked from your eyes. Instead, it was tears of relief. While your heart had wholly accepted his words as the truth, the logical part of you reminded yourself that the two of you had way more talking to do. This was far from over, but the relief of knowing that he loved you and he was yours…it was indescribable.

You finally lifted your head up and were shocked to find Jungkook’s cheeks glistening with moisture. Your only thought was to comfort him as you scrambled forward to do just that. Instead of feeling his smooth skin against the palm of your hand, you were blocked by what felt like a wall although nothing stood in your way. Frowning, you realized with a start that the boundary worked both ways. Jungkook let out a frustrated growl as he glared at the ashes that was stopping both of you from getting what you wanted. It was silent for a few moments until an idea popped into your head.

“Wait here,” you announced before jumping up and taking off for the house. Ignoring Jungkook’s distressed cry, you ran inside. You yanked your car keys off from their designated hook and quickly typed out a text to your parents to let them know where you were going before spinning around and sprinting back outside. Jungkook was where you left him, although he stumbled to his feet when he saw you reappear.

“I’m going to your house,” you announced, breathless. “No witch is stupid enough to go that far into werewolf territory. If you want to talk to me there, then follow me.”

Jungkook stared at you for a heartbeat until the words you spoke clicked. “Y-yeah. Yes. Okay. I’ll be there.”

With a curt nod, you ran to your car. For the first time in a week, a faint sprout of hope bloomed in your chest.

It was the longest and shortest ten minutes of your life. The drive to Jungkook’s seemed to last a lifetime but also was over within a blink of an eye. The tears had stopped flowing by the time you pulled your car into his driveway, but you felt the telltale prick in your eyes when you saw him burst from the trees. Your heart ached as his long legs ate up the distance between you two as you wrestled with your seatbelt and threw the car into park. By the time you freed yourself, he was at the hood of your car.

The two of you stared at each other for a few breathless moments. You weren’t sure who moved first, but it didn’t matter as you crashed into each other’s arms. The moment his searing warmth enveloped you, you dissolved into another puddle of sobs. The feeling of his thick arms banded across your back, his torso molded to yours, and his hair tickling your ear, felt so right. Another wave of crippling relief washed over you and you practically melted against Jungkook. But he held you up, just like he always had.

He leaned against the front bumper while his hands were everywhere. Cradling your head into his neck, smoothing over your hips, or running circles over your shoulders. He was crying, you could feel the tears dampening your hair. But you were soaking his shirt so no one was in any position to complain.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t,” Jungkook hissed fiercely as he squeezed you tighter. “Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault, not in the slightest.”

“Kook,” you sighed and pulled your head back to get a good look at him. “It takes two to tango.”

“Not this time,” he argued. “You’ve put up with so much. You’re everything I could’ve asked for and more. It was my own fears that got in the way and created this mess. And I’m so sorry for that, darling. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shushed him gently, running your thumbs over his cheeks to swipe at the dried tears. “I know you’re sorry. I believe you.”

Jungkook dipped his head further into your touch with a pleased rumble vibrating through his chest. He kissed your palm gently, sniffing at your wrist. It made you giggle. “Missed that,” Jungkook mumbled as he stared at you with stars in his eyes. “Missed you. Missed you so much.”

A fresh wave of tears cascaded down your cheeks. You were positive that you looked like a mess, hair in a knotted bun, face red and puffy and you kept sniffling every two seconds. But Jungkook looked at you as if you held the world in your hands. “Missed you too,” you murmured in return. “Please, next time, just talk to me. I may not have the answers you’re looking for all the time, but I’ll always be here to listen.”

“I know,” Jungkook whispered. “There won’t be a next time, promise. If I happen to be stupid enough to put us in this position again, I give you full permission to punch me in the face.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You lifted yourself onto your toes to brush your lips against his, dropping back down to your feet when his head chased after yours. “Or maybe I just won’t kiss you for a week.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened comically and he actually looked terrified. “I’d rather you just punched me in the face.” You tilted your head back and laughed. Jungkook tugged you closer and nosed your throat before peppering gentle kisses along the exposed skin. Sighing happily, you tilted your head to allow him better access and rested your cheek on his shoulder.

“I love you,” you said quietly. Jungkook froze for a split second before he sank against you. Squeaking in shock, you scrambled to brace yourself against the sudden weight pressing you towards the house.

“Say it again,” Jungkook pleaded. You couldn’t deny him. Dusting feather light kisses to the shell of his ear, you repeated those three words again, and again, and again. Each time you did, Jungkook held you a little tighter and cried a little harder.

Eventually, you’re murmured promises became softer and softer until the two of you just enjoyed each others presence. “C’mon,” you finally whispered as you started to lift yourself off of him. Jungkook growled and refused to let you move an inch farther. “Kook, come on. Let’s go inside. Your ass must be numb by now.”

“Don’t care,” he grumbled but he at least shuffled forward a bit more so that your combined weight wasn’t squashing his ass against your car.

“You might say that now, but you won’t be saying that later.”

Jungkook grunted at your logic but he at least raised his head and looked at you with the sweetest eyes. “Please tell me you’re staying.”

Giggling, you asked, “do you want me to?”

“Obviously,” he scoffed. “I want you here forever.” Jungkook tilted his head thoughtfully. “Actually, you should just move in with me.”

Christ, this boy was going to give you whiplash. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Jungkook, we just made up. The whole reason we were in this mess is because of poor communication. Don’t you think we should work on that first before anything else?”

“But…we could work on communication all the time if we’re together 24/7.” Despite his pout, you knew he wasn’t totally serious. Although you were sure it was going to come up again.

“Alright, you maniac,” you said fondly. “Take me to bed.” Jungkook’s chest rumbled happily as he lifted you up and wrapped your legs around his trim waist.

It wasn’t a long walk to his bedroom, but the exhaustion of the past week caught up to you and the gentle rocking of his steps lulled you into a serene state. Not quite asleep, but not quite awake either. You were aware when Jungkook placed you on his bed, practically engulfed in his scent. The last thing you remember before falling asleep was the words Jungkook pressed into your hair has he slid in behind you.

“Love you forever, my darling girl.”

©jcwritings Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

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[mittensmorgul]

So for the most part, I outright reject the finale. But I do think, in light of the whole "Jimmy was supposed to be in the bar, and Dean was disappointed by that because his perfect heaven would have Cas in it" just makes me all the more convinced that the final episode was some kind of djinn dream. Like.... There's no other explanation in my opinion. If Dean's perfect heaven was supposed to have Cas, and he tragically gets faked out by Jimmy (????? Why tf would jimmy be there anyway), it just proves that it's not ACTUALLY heaven. That, along with he El Sol beer he's drinking is all the evidence I need. I think after 15x19, Dean and Sam got whammied by some monster, and are stuck in a hallucination, and that's what we're seeing. (My headcanon is that it's actually The Empty doing it, because it knows if it doesn't keep Dean and Sam occupied and spinning in circles, they'll invade the Empty to save Cas. So its trying to prevent that) :)

Hello, anon friendo! I am gonna start by offering the socially distanced version of a high five, because yeah... There is just so much to unpack here, and you provided such a succinct and all-encompassing series of statements to start from. Thank you!

*flings open array of questionable suitcases*

First off, Congrats on having rejected the finale. I know a lot of folks are still struggling with that one, for many reasons. But you have hit upon so many of the points I’ve been trying to make about the finale since it aired. I’d just like to start with some of the assumptions I’ve heard from folks about the finale that make it impossible for me to consider it fully honestly canon. Because so much about it just makes no goshdang sense... like... not at all...

One of the biggest issues I have surrounding the reception of the finale in parts of fandom is that it portrayed a “happy ending.” The show itself spent the entire final season telling us that a gravestone marked Winchester was not and never would be a happy ending (thank you Becky Rosen-- words I never thought I’d say, but honestly and most sincerely meant). Let’s break this down a bit.

Starting from the assumption that “heaven was fixed” so that characters could have true free will there, making it satisfying in any way that Dean died so young and never got to truly experience happiness during life, I would like anyone who has adopted this attitude to then explain Kansas the band. I mean... explain that in any satisfactory canon-compliant way. (hint: you can’t. it makes zero sense in canon, if heaven is truly reformed and “happy” with everyone in possession of free will.)

Which brings me to Misha’s comments about Jimmy being in the Roadhouse. Why, if heaven were truly fixed, would Jimmy ever in a bazillion years attend a party for Dean Winchester? If Heaven were truly a “happy” ending for Dean, why introduce this element of eternal tragedy and heartbreak to his heaven experience? Why taunt him with the eternal loss of Cas-- even if you don’t think he reciprocated Cas’s romantic feelings, he was canonically the best friend Dean ever had, and being forced to exist forever in a place where he had everyone else he ever cared for except for Cas? Is frankly horrific.

How the actual fuck is that a happy ending, in any sense of the word?

How is this the sort of heaven that Dean would’ve made for himself before it was “fixed?” At least in the memorex heaven, he could’ve lived in oblivious peace with Cas, even if it was always just his own memories and not ~actually Cas~. I honestly think that would’ve been happier than the abject tragedy of what we did get, and what we would’ve gotten had the original script played out.

All of this kind of makes me wonder if they ever even actually defeated Chuck. Like... it feels more like Dean got pulled into the Empty at that moment with Cas and Billie, and everything else after that point was the Empty’s endless experience of sorrow and despair we knew it subject its charges to. So that’s one potential for what could’ve actually happened. I mean, everything about the finale was sorrow and despair, you know? Dean didn’t even get to enjoy his pie at a pie festival because Sam smashed in in his face. How is any of it happy, in any way?

Because if that was actually heaven, there wasn’t actually any free will (because why tf would Kansas the band have chosen to put on that concert? why tf would Jimmy have been there, just to torment Dean with the taunt of Cas returning to him only to have that hope snatched away again? It’s cruel. It’s, in fact, a source of intense despair).

The djinn theory could also work, and I’ve read some excellent fix-it fic using that as a premise. But that doesn’t really explain what happened to Jack (and Amara, since she was in there with them) after hoovering up Chuck’s power, you know? I think the simplest explanations in canon are that Chuck actually won via the unified power of Light and Dark being transferred into Jack and effectively using him as a vessel. With Sam and Dean convinced they’d won, they effectively stopped resisting Chuck’s story for them, and using Jack’s understanding of humanity and the Winchesters specifically, Chuck finally was able to implement a version of his story that the Winchesters would just waltz into without thinking it was supernaturally influenced at all. Going bigger and bigger with monsters and cosmic troubles hadn’t worked, but going so small Sam and Dean would barely even notice the influence-- even with the incongruous reappearance of a vampire that appeared in their lives once, for like two whole minutes 15 years ago, and an unsolved case from the journal from more than 30 years ago that John had never even linked to vampires at all.

At this point, I need to mention that I’m watching 10.23 as I type this up. An episode in which we confront the Mark, along with Death, and Dean’s despair, where he learns a version of the truth (but by no means the full truth, or even accurate truth in some respects) about Chuck’s Story, Amara/The Darkness, etc. That would unfold more fully over the next five seasons. And what was the case Dean took in this episode? Vampires. LOLOL omg this show is nothing if not horrifically consistent, yes?

So because of this, I went haring off through my own blog looking for a post I made a long time ago about the symbolism of how various monsters are used on this show (because again, consistency). I got sidetracked by other posts in my monsters tag, including this from after 15.09 aired, which feels particularly awfully relevant. This was my reaction to Chuck’s Story he showed Sam in that episode, about what the future would look like should he successfully trap Chuck with a Mark, and which... yeah is basically exactly thematically consistent with what we saw in the finale, right down to a cheesy twist on vampires. Read the whole post right here, but this is the part that reached up and punched me in the face:

this is how Dean personally reacts when he loses Cas. We know how he reacts when he loses anyone else– think about what he did when Charlie died. He went on a murder rampage against the Stynes for killing her. When Mary died he broke some furniture and went full bore toward both resurrecting her and stopping Jack. But without Cas, Dean loses the will to fight. Sam has… always been different. He referenced Jess in 15.04 to remind us of how he was after she died in the pilot episode. Just like John, he picked up the revenge mission and ran with it. But for Dean, Cas is different. Without Cas… Dean gives up.

Because... Dean gave up. Sure, he and Sam weren’t overrun by vampires in the end. Chuck knew they’d never stop fighting the monsters, one way or another. The only way to get Dean to give up is something Chuck hadn’t quite figured out yet... maybe not until after 15.17, after confronting Cas in the hallway of the bunker, after absorbing Amara’s power, knowledge, and perspective on Dean.

Chuck needed Dean to give up, and honestly? Pushing Billie to clear him off the table and send him (and Cas, that pesky angel who never did what he was told) to the Empty would’ve been a direct way to deal with that... pretty much akin to having one sibling locked in a cage forever, yes?

Also, still looking through my monsters tag, I’m reminded of 14.15, and still cannot differentiate the version of Heaven in 15.20 from what was done to the people of that town. This... is not... paradise. This is actively what Dean has been insisting is the OPPOSITE of paradise since like… 4.22… No ending where Dean was a “Stepford bitch in paradise” ever had the possibility of being “happy,” at the core of things, and this “fixed” version of Heaven just doesn’t hold up to any degree of inspection. Something is seriously wrong here. https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/183465650390/so-can-we-talk-about-this-monster-of-the-week-for

And since I was unable to find the post I wrote who knows how long ago about Monsters and how they’re symbolically used on Supernatural to represent larger themes in the episode, I’ll just attempt to sum up what Vampires have been used for. Revenge. Vampires are always, in some way connected to themes of revenge.

(and hooray, I found at least a post adjacent to the one I’ve spent the last four hours trying to find... https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/187207052080/i-obviously-did-not-think-this-through, where I mention that shapeshifters are about revealing hidden truths (mostly about Dean since most shapeshifters are connected to Dean), zombies are about grief and the inability to move past it.)

So why... why at the end of their road is the monster that comes after them-- literally FOR REVENGE for something that had never been blamed on Sam or Dean to begin with, from season 1, directly connected to John’s revenge mission and the first time they learned about the Colt AND the first time they learned in canon that Vampires were even real... like... this feels very specifically like some kind of layers-of-meta levels of shade on them, you know? Vampires are for revenge, so what vengeance exactly is being visited upon Sam and Dean in this episode? If not Chuck’s entire story for them itself?

So yeah, 100% agree, something is incredibly rotten in the finale. And I am sick to effing death of people trying to convince us that anything about this was “good” or “happy” or “satisfying” in any way. Or even “how it was always supposed to end” with Dean dead bloody, as if the entire back half of the series hadn’t been suggesting that a true win was the subversion of all of Chuck’s story for them, and Dean finally being able to have his chosen family all alive, happy, and chilling on a beach somewhere watching the sunset. Nothing will ever convince me that the ending portrayed in 15.20 wasn’t exactly how Chuck thought he “won,” rendering it entirely irrelevant to the rest of canon, unless all of canon was ultimately the tragedy we’d been encouraged to believe would be firmly defeated in the end.

Folks, you can’t have it both ways. 

[teamhappyme]

a series of promising events (1/5)

aaron hotchner x female! reader

word count: 7.9k :)

a/n: hello hello hello! this is my first hotch fic, and the first of three parts (edit: it’s actually 5 now lolol). it’s going to cover 8 (maybe 9?) events over the course of several years, so it needed to be broken up in the most rational way possible. this is my baby, and has been in the editing process with my lazy brain since september. please, please, please, let me know if the timeline or anything is confusing to you! i have a tendency to under explain things (as my profs will testify to), and i don’t want y’all to be confused. i hope whoever stumbles across this enjoys!

also, big shoutout to @winterscaptain, you are a gift to the world, tali. i am in love with the ajf universe, and that shit inspired me to polish this piece up for the tumblr verse to see. 

alright friends, here we go.

link to part 2: here

**** 

June 2005

You wouldn’t forget your first day in the BAU for as long as you lived. It was forever ingrained in your memory, the good, bad, and embarrassing moments all stored away. Stored away that is until Derek Morgan decided to dredge it back up as you passed your six month mark on the job. 

Derek, Prentiss, Reid and yourself were finishing up paperwork in the bullpen after an unusually slow friday. You were usually the first one done, earning a groan from the doctor across from your desk. They all envied your English degree and professional writing skills. 

“Hey bobo,” The nickname Derek had assigned to you was named after your alma mater, and extremely annoying. “Remember your first day, when I tricked you into doing Prentiss and my paperwork for almost two weeks?” You shook your head, not having to look at Morgan to be able to hear the smirk in his voice. “Do you think I could trick you again?”

7:47. Thirteen minutes earlier than you needed to be. Yet the room full of agents you were supposed to join was already filled. You liked these people already, they were punctual and functioned in the morning. 

You pushed one of the glass doors open with your ballet flat, juggling your box of office supplies while keeping your crossbody balanced on your shoulder. The sound of fingers pounding on keyboards, phones ringing on loop welcomed you into the BAU. Along with a shove to your back, causing you to lunge forward. You felt something cold run down your back, cursing yourself for wearing a white blouse.

“Are you alright?” You looked up to find a tall mop of brown hair and big brown eyes looking down at you. “Well, I’m a little damp.”

He nodded while looking at your box full of sticky notes and pens. “You must be y/n l/n. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. We’ve been taking bets on what time you’d arrive. And you beat us all with your extreme punctuality.” You laughed. “Sorry to let you down. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” You extended your hand for him to shake, but he just stared at your extended limb.

“Yeah, he doesn’t do that sort of thing.” The new voice came into view, shaking your hand that was meant for Reid. He was tall like Spencer, but was lean with a smile on his face. Confident. “I’m Derek Morgan. When JJ told us the new recruit graduated with an english degree, I expected someone with tweed elbow patches and big round glasses.” 

“You’re an english major? Statistically speaking, only three percent of the agents that have been recruited for the BAU didn’t have any background in law enforcement or field experience.” This wasn’t the first time you’d been questioned at the FBI for being a liberal arts degree profiler. Your english degree and your fresh age of twenty five left many people to dismiss you through your time in the academy. But you got used to it. 

“Sorry to disappoint your stereotypical profile of an FBI agent,” You started, shifting your weight between your feet, now uncomfortable and a little embarrassed in front of your new co-workers. 

“Oh I didn’t mean it as an offense. I-” “He’s a genius, but he lacks some social cues. You’re the first girl he’s been around that’s his age in the workplace.” Morgan added and Reid elbowed his ribs. You covered the smile on your face as the two of them started to quietly bicker. 

“Let the poor woman go and settle in at least before you harass her.” A brunette woman in a black pant suit came walking toward you. She had a stern face while looking at the two men, but when she turned to you, her face softened into a smile. “Special Agent Emily Prentiss. You do not understand how happy I am to have another woman out in this bullpen.”

You laughed as she led you to the empty desk across from Dr. Reid’s. “Welcome to your new home.”

“Thanks.” You placed your box down before taking the place in. “I’m supposed to meet with SSA Hotchner,”

“Agent l/n,” All heads turned to the man descending the stairs into the bullpen. He was taller than the other two, and that was saying a lot since they practically towered over you. He had a clean boys haircut, paired with a suit and tie. No question that this was the unit chief you were to report to. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner. Welcome to the BAU.” He shook your hand before looking at the others. “JJ’s ready to debrief in the conference room.”

And just like that, the three agents sprung into action, leading the way to the board room. “We can go over the particulars when we get back from Nebraska. You ready for your first case?”

His face didn’t change, no change of tone in his voice. He lived and breathed for the BAU. Until you noticed the wedding band on his left hand. It was always the first thing you looked for when you met someone new. It was shallow and patriarchal, you knew, but it was instinct. And it put you at ease knowing there was someone out there he was doing this for. Someone he didn’t have to hold this demeanor around. 

“Ready.”

“Funny. But if you have any other insults to give, direct them to the head of the english department at Bowdoin. Mention that you’re talking about y/n l/n, with the 4.0 GPA.”

Prentiss led a slow clap as Derek shook his head. 

“I think that’s what the kids are calling a ‘mic drop’.” Spencer added and you couldn’t help your laugh. “Alright kid, why don’t you get out of here before we inevitably find ourselves back.”

You turned off the lamp on your desk and grabbed your crossbody and backpack. “Have a good weekend guys. And Reid,” He looked up, and you laughed as he pushed his hair out of his face. “Please recite the old testament for these two if they mock me while I’m gone.” He gave you a mock salute as Prentiss flipped you off on your way to Hotch’s office. 

In the six months you’d been here, these three people you shared the bullpen with had quickly become the siblings you never had. Morgan acted as your annoying older brother, constantly picking on you and Reid. Not only were you the newbie, but you were now the youngest, only a year behind Spencer. Emily Prentiss on the other hand, was the protective older sister you always dreamed of. She was confident and held her own against the male dominated team, but knew when to be soft spoken and caring with victims and the team when needed.

And then there was Dr. Spencer Reid. The smartest person on the planet, in your book. Sure, he was a little socially awkward and didn’t know when to stop listing off all the stats he knew, but you understood. He was consistently the youngest and smartest person in every classroom he walked into. There weren’t many people that wanted to get to know him without bullying him or picking apart his eidetic memory. Despite the problematic first encounter you shared, the two of you stuck together considering your combined intellect and young age. He taught you the ins and outs of the BAU, and helped you get accustomed to D.C. Although, Spencer himself hadn’t really ventured out into the city in the four years he’s been here. So the two of you tried to see as many things as you could in the rare weekends that you weren’t working a case. You worked your way through a third of the smithsonian's, and saw the Declaration of Independence. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little emotional while looking at it. Spencer had called you a nerd, and you didn’t mind one bit. 

You walked up the steps to Hotch’s office, case reports in your hand from this week. The blinds were open, you could see him working through the stack of files on his desk. Despite the exhaustion written all over his face, his sport coat was still on, tie still impeccably tight around his neck. Even when he was in private he kept up the put together facade.

You knocked on the door, and heard a quiet ‘come in’ as you twisted the door knob. “L/n,” “I have my case reports from this week.” “Just place them on my desk.”

“How much longer are you here for?” He let out a sigh while closing the file in his hand. 

“Another hour or two.” You opened your mouth to respond, but he beat you to the punch. “And before you offer to stay and help me, I don’t need any help.”

“You just don’t want to listen to me singing Coldplay under my breath.” He huffed out a semblance of a laugh. A month into your bout here, Morgan had accosted you on the jet on the way home from Milwaukee. None of you had slept in three days, and you were currently enthralled in your new mp3 player and Coldplay's newest album ‘X&Y’. After the third song, a paper cup was thrown at the back of your head, followed by a ‘I’m trying to sleep, bobo’ from Derek. It was a habit of yours that you had yet to kick. 

“That’s part of the reason.” “I knew it.” He opened another file, and you took that as a cue to wrap up the conversation. You rummaged through your purse, looking for the blue envelope you sealed this morning. 

“Um, I also wanted to drop this off. It’s for Jack, you mentioned he was being Christened this weekend.” You placed the card on top of the pile of paperwork, your cursive handwriting on top. “I was going to get him a stuffed animal or some type of toy, but he’s only three months old and wouldn’t know the difference. This check may be the penny that helps you guys afford Harvard.”

A real laugh escaped his lips now, as he picked up the card. “Thank you, y/n. You didn’t have to do this.” You smiled. “I know, but I wanted to. He’s a cute kid.” 

He looked at the framed picture of Jack on his desk, then back up to you. No one else had mentioned the Christening after Hotch first brought it up. He was quiet, and only liked to talk about his family if he initiated the conversation. You could tell you were the only person who had reached out like this, with a simple gift. 

Hotch had been the hardest person to get to know in your time here. Despite Morgan saying there are no secrets kept among the team, you knew these people had their demons. And Hotch certainly had enough both professionally and personally. You didn’t want to push the professional boundaries, but you always wanted to be present in the lives of people that you shared time with. To let them know you were thinking of them, and cared for them. It was probably your most damaging personality trait.

“I’ll let you finish your work so you can get home at a reasonable hour. Tell Haley I said hi.” He nodded. “I will y/n. Have a nice weekend.”

****

December 2005

You pride yourself in the fact that you haven’t shot your weapon in the year you’ve spent with the BAU. It meant that you were successful at connecting to these people’s emotions, despite the asterisk next to their name labeling them as a serial killer or sadist. Guns were there to protect you, and they were always the last result. But as you pulled up to a log cabin in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, you had a feeling your record was going to be broken.

The team was working a case where six bodies, two adult males and four teenage males, were found mutilated, along with a cut from sternum to belly button. It was the first case you worked that had no female victims. A small victory, in your mind. But, it was also the first case you worked that the profile of the unsub fit a sixteen year old girl, who had most likely been assaulted as a young child. When children were involved, the team acted differently. They were failed by the people that were supposed to care for them, they were consistently hurt with no one to turn to. And as a result, they would spend the rest of their lives paying for it. 

You, Prentiss, and Hotch got out of the suburban, strapping the bullet proof vests onto your bodies. Thanks to Garcia, you had found the unsub’s location once she turned her cell phone back on. A cruiser pulled up behind you guys, two more cops falling out. 

“Prentiss, you take the two officers down with you to the exterior basement access. L/n and I will take the main floor.” Hotch ordered as he pulled his gun from his holster. 

You could feel the anxiety rising in your chest, but there was no time to calm it down. You barely had enough time to strap on your vest. 

“Ready?” Hotch looked at you before taking another step toward the cabin. You nodded, pulling your own gun from it’s holster. “Ready.”

You followed him up to the front porch, announcing yourselves before kicking the door in. You cleared the living room as Hotch cleared the dining room and bathroom, leaving you both to meet up in the kitchen. 

That was where you found her. You saw her first, hiding half of her face behind the rifle that she had pointed at you. She was trembling, dried tear streaks left on her cheeks. She was petrified. 

“Stephanie Moore?” Her grip on the gun tightened at the mention of her name as you heard Hotch’s footsteps get closer. “My name is Y/n L/n, I’m with the FBI. I don’t want to hurt you Stephanie, but I need you to put the gun down.”

Hotch joined you on your left, both of you directing your weapons toward the young girl. “I did what I had to do to survive. They took everything from me, every last shred of dignity I had. I wasn’t going to let them kill me.” You never thought it would be possible for your heart to break while listening to an unsub. But this tiny girl standing in front of you, with her whole life ahead of her, it just hit you too hard. 

“I know you did, Stephanie. You were so brave and so strong. Not many people could survive what you did.” She started to loosen her grip on the rifle, you were getting through to her. “I’m here to help you. I want to put an end to all of this.”

You glanced at Hotch and he gave the slightest nod, giving you the okay to take a step forward together. “I couldn’t let them get away with it.” Ever so slowly, the gun started to lower in her hands. 

“You’re doing great. Just a little lower and this will all be over.” Before she could completely lower her weapon, you heard the storm door to the basement slam shut. 

Stephanie jumped, raising her weapon back up in her hands.

“You said you were here to help me!” She exclaimed, the gun pointed at you as Hotch took another step forward. “I am Stephanie, but other members of my team are trying to help the boy you took.”

Fresh tears started to fall down her cheeks and you knew you were losing her. “Y/n,” 

He whispered to you and she moved the gun from your chest to Hotch’s. “Shutup!”

“Stephanie, hey, look at me,” She shook her head, continuing her stare at Hotch. “He’s in on it, he has to be!”

“He’s not! He’s my boss, trust me, Stephanie.” You heard the safety go off, and before her foot landed as she took her first step towards Hotch, you emptied two rounds into her chest. He rushed forward as she fell, kicking away her gun and checking her pulse. Nothing. 

You lowered your gun as your breathing increased, looking at the lifeless sixteen year old lying in front of you. A hand covered your mouth as you realized what you’d done. 

You killed her. 

You remembered what it felt like to be sixteen. Struggling to find your identity, wanting so desperately to be noticed by someone. For anyone to reach out and help you. 

But you took that away from her. You ended her life before it even began.

“Are you guys okay?” You heard Prentiss come up through the basement, but your eyes were closed as she entered the room. “We’re good. Y/n took the shot.”

Hotch stood up and dared a look at you, taking in your grief stricken state. “Did you find the boy?” 

“Yeah, he’s gonna be fine.”

Before Emily could greet you, you ran to the corner of the room, heaving up whatever was inside your almost empty stomach. Your throat burned as you threw up for a second time, vaguely registering two people calling your name.

“You’re okay, y/n,” Prentiss approached you, gently resting a hand on your back. You coughed a few more times before a towel was being rushed to your side. “It’s okay.”

The whirring of more sirens forced you to open your eyes and straighten up from your sick position. Prentiss had eyes filled with concern, not letting go of you until you gave her a slight nod. She handed you a water before she exited the house, letting two uniforms in. They went straight to Hotch, asking questions and looking over the body before their eyes landed on you. You felt exposed, like you were the one lying lifeless on the ground for all to see. You took a few deep breaths to get your breathing under control, and tore your gaze away from Stephanie. 

Hotch finished his conversation with the officers before walking over to you. “Hey,” He rested a hand on your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but flinch. “It was a clean shot, but protocol states they have to take your gun and badge as well as give a statement to IA.” You nodded, taking your badge from your pocket. “They’re gonna take you back to the station and do an interview. This should all be wrapped up in a few hours. We’ll meet you back there, alright?”

You glanced up at his big brown eyes, warm as they bore into yours instead of their usual slanted nature. “Okay.”

The two officers escorted you to their patrol car, taking your badge and gun before you got in. You felt naked without them, like you were a nobody wandering the streets looking for someone to help, or looking for someone to help you.

It was a good thirty minute ride to the station from the cabin, and when you got there a detective from IA was already waiting for you. They led you into an interrogation room where they already had Section Chief Strauss hooked up through video call. Great. 

The questions they asked were pretty straight forward, nothing that couldn’t be answered by a crime scene report from the technicians. But the government insisted on interviewing cops involved in shootings, just in case it wasn’t legal. As if anyone wanted to deal with the psychological repercussions of taking another’s life. 

It took them nearly an hour and a half to get through the interrogation. In part due to you almost throwing up a third time as Strauss asked you to repeat the moment you shot Stephanie. They gave you a few minutes to regroup, some ginger ale and crackers from the vending machine to help settle your stomach. They took your fingerprints last, letting Strauss finish up with the bureaucratic discussion.

“That’s all for now Agent L/n. We’ll debrief tomorrow morning when you’re back in Quantico.” “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

They led you out of the interrogation room and back through the lobby leaving you at the conference room your team had been set up in the last three days.

The white boards were still littered with images of the victims, crime scenes, and the unsub. Piles of evidence were scattered along the table, and you tried to resist looking through them again. You knew if you went through the images of the mutilated boys again, you wouldn’t survive the emotional turmoil. But you needed to know that you made the right choice, the only choice to prevent more families from going through the same pain and suffering as the Corbins. 

You turned to the white board, glancing at the first victim. Connor Corbin was fifteen years old, on the varsity soccer team, and involved in musical theatre. He was cousins with the teenager that abused Stephanie. She targeted all the men in her abusers life, letting them know what he did to her. Wanting them to understand the pain she’d had to endure because of their ignorance.

You looked through the rest of the victims, the abusers two younger brothers, father and uncle were among those killed. The boys were only twelve years old. You brought a hand up to cover your mouth, remembering meeting their mother on the first day you were here. JJ was the one to speak to her, as the communications liaison, most people trusted her with being the most empathetic. That fact was up for debate, in your opinion. She was a wreck, and JJ needed help comforting her from Morgan. But you understood, boy had you understood. Her whole family was killed. 

“Y/n,” You jumped, startled by the new voices in the room. Hotch, Spencer, and JJ had arrived back at the station. “Did they clear you?”

You nodded as Spencer walked over to you. “Yeah, Strauss just wants to debrief again tomorrow morning.” “Of course she does.”

Section Chief Erin Strauss is a hardass and not the biggest fan of the BAU. “Did they give you your piece back?” Your hand immediately flew to your left hip, void of your gun and holster. “No, I completely forgot about it.” You went to move toward the door, but Spencer laid a hand on your forearm. “It’s okay, I’ll get it.” He gave your arm a comforting squeeze before leaving the conference room. 

You spared a glance at Hotch as you started cracking your knuckles. “JJ, why don’t you call the airstrip, tell them to get the jet ready.” “Yes sir.”

In an effort to keep your mind busy, you started to take down the pictures from the white board, erasing all Reid’s notes in his barely legible handwriting. The boy had three PhD’s, yet couldn’t figure out the concept of penmanship. 

“Are you alright?” “Fine.” You pulled an empty manila folder out, stuffing Connor’s pictures in. “You don’t have to clean this up for them.” “I know.”

He sighed. “Y/n, stop.” His voice was stern now and you dropped the files. “I asked if you were alright.”

“Why wouldn’t I be alright, Hotch?” You crossed your arms over your chest, letting a breath out. “We found her, we saved her from hurting anyone else, and we brought closure to Mrs. Corbin. Case closed, the BAU gets to go home.”

Your eyes started to water but you refused to bring your hands up to wipe them away. You wouldn’t let them fall. “We’ve all been where you are right now.”

“I’m confident that you’ve never felt what I’m feeling before.”

“Try me.” He didn’t flinch, his hands remained in his pockets, stare heavy on your own. 

“When JJ presented this case to us, that two teenage boys and their fathers had been murdered, it was a no brainer for all of us to take it. Two twelve year old boys dead, two more teenagers missing, how could we not take it? But then we got here, and we met with the victims' families, we learned the boys' backgrounds, the unsub’s profile.” You scoffed, not sure who you were angered with at the moment. “This girl was raped by a seventeen year old boy and his father for two years, and we’re still supposed to treat her like a monster, like Tim Vogel?” You shook your head. “I’m not condoning what she did, but, can you blame her? And then we went in, and she had a gun raised at us. I would’ve been able to talk her down, I know I could’ve saved her if she didn’t have the gun.”

“But she had a gun.” You nodded. “She had a gun and it was raised at you. And I didn’t even flinch to take the shot. All it took was two seconds for me to forget her pain, her trauma, and reduce her to a sick serial killer.”

Even though that’s what Stephanie ultimately was, you didn’t want to accept it. Because she was a person before she went through all that pain, she was someone’s daughter, who was involved in gymnastics and softball, and had stuffed animals scattered across her bedroom. God, were you ever going to forget what she looked like?

“Feeling guilty about taking someone’s life is a good thing. It means your human, that you care.” Hotch freed his hands from his pockets, taking the file you packed out of your grip. “You’re not like them, y/n.”

You dared a glance at him as you felt more tears spring to the surface. Those big brown eyes could tell a story all on their own, and right now, they were pleading for you to believe him. You would try. 

“Got the goods.” Spencer came back in, your gun and credentials in hand. “They really had the audacity to I.D. me, as if we hadn’t just worked a case with them the last seventy two hours.” 

He got you to laugh, which served you enough cover to wipe your eyes dry. And out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw a rare smile cross Hotch’s face. 

But Aaron knew there was more to your guilt than just this little girl. He was the leader of this team, it was his job to know the people he was in charge of like the back of his hand in order to keep them safe. And in the year that you’d been here, he noticed how reserved you were. Too reserved and too broken for a twenty-six year old. How you took on the giver persona to hide the fact that you were terribly closed off to others and your emotions. You would be the first to offer help, to be a listening ear, or lend your shoulder to cry on. But you never accepted it from anyone. Not that you had to, until today. 

When Hotch started to notice you and Spencer growing closer at the three month mark, he was excited. Proud, even. He knew you were struggling with the gruesome cases (he knew you threw up after every crime scene, despite your best efforts with barf bags and travel size mouthwash) and hoped you could share your burdens with the young doctor. But it seemed like they only grew in time, like the smile on your face. Hotch just hoped you knew your limits.

“Gather whatever else you guys need for Quantico. Wheels up in thirty.” Reid nodded for both of you as Hotch left the conference room, presumably to find JJ. 

“Everything okay in here?” He asked as you continued to empty the white boards, this time at a faster pace. Of course he had noticed the red rim on your waterline and the red tip on your nose. Spencer could read you better than anyone else, regardless of being a profiler or not.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just talked through the case.” His feet stayed nailed to the ground, yet his eyes continued to stick to the back of your head. You sighed and stopped moving, turning to face him. “Spencer, I can feel you boring holes into the back of my head.”

He had a sheepish smile and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. We have copies of all this back at the office, I already faxed it over to Garcia. Why don’t we spend the next twenty eight minutes searching for a good burger before the flight home.”

You smiled. “Okay. As long as I can get a vanilla shake, too.”

****

May 2006

Growing up, you always wanted an office job. A boring nine to five with your own cubicle, a script to follow when your phone rang and a customer needed help. You’d have a generic wall calendar pinned on the particle board, sticky notes littering your monitor screen, and maybe a few pictures of pets and future family. It was safe, predictable, and what you were constantly told all you would be capable of.

Now, as you’re sitting on the FBI owned jet with your six special agent coworkers, you can’t imagine living that life you once dreamt of. 

It was nearing two a.m., and you were two hours into the flight home from Los Angeles. Reid was passed out on the couch, Prentiss and JJ in the same state of mind in the cluster of four chairs, legs spread out. Morgan and Rossi were sitting across from one another, each listening to their own playlists. And by the way Rossi was tapping his fingers against the arm rest, you knew it was some genre of opera. 

This left you in the back of the jet, staring out the window as you passed over Nebraska. You always had the map up on your screen, wanting to know every state you passed over. No matter the case, you always looked forward to the plane ride. It calmed you, oddly enough. 

“Not tired?” Hotch took the seat across from you, handing you one of the two cups of tea. “Plane rides are too exciting for me to catch any sleep.”

You took a sip of the hot drink and your face scrunched out of instinct. You never liked tea, but you tried it again and again when people assured you that it would calm you down. It never worked. 

“You could just say no,” He added and you smiled. “I know. But my taste buds may change one of these times.”

He took a sip out of his own cup, no change of expression on his face. You couldn’t help the chuckle that left your lips and his eyes narrowed on you. 

“What?” 

“Well, you may enjoy the taste, but it seems like it’s calming chamomile effect has never worked on you, either.” “We’re not supposed to profile each other.” 

“Then don’t even think about rattling off excuses of why I’m not sleeping.”

He looked down at his cup, slowly nodding his head. “Well if you don’t want to talk about what’s really bothering you, because I know it’s not sleep, I can bore you with Jack’s sleep routine we have to stick to.” You smiled. “You know that I’m the only one on this team that would actually be interested in Jack’s sleeping routine. Hell, anything with that chubby little baby would interest me. Bring it on, Hotch.”

It was no secret that Jack Hotchner was your favorite person on the planet. Not only was he the chubbiest little nugget you’d ever seen, he was the result of two of the strongest people you knew. 

The first time you met Haley, she was six months pregnant with Jack, begging Hotch to leave the office early for a date night. You made the afternoon walk up to his office, dropping off some files for him to sign when you first saw her.

“Come on, Aaron. This baby is going to be here before we know it, and who knows the next time we’ll have any alone time will be.”

Before he could respond, you knocked on the open door. Both of their heads snapped over to you, and a red blush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks. “Sorry to interrupt, sir. Just dropping off some reports for you to sign off on.”

You smiled at the petite blonde woman while placing the files on the desk. “It’s okay l/n. This is my wife, Haley Hotchner. Haley, this is Agent y/n l/n, she started about a month ago.” She smiled back at you, extending a hand to shake. 

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n. I’ll leave the agent part out, it makes you sound like a robot.” She said and glared at her husband before placing her hand back on her growing belly. You laughed once you heard Hotch let out a breath, knowing he wasn’t offended with her joke. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” The smile only grew on your face as you looked at her, admiring her own belly. “Congratulations on the baby. It’s always exciting to bring a baby into the world.”

“Thank you. If only my husband thought going out with me was half as exciting, he would’ve been gone a half an hour ago.” “Haley!” He was more than surprised that she would speak so cavalierly while at the office, especially around someone he had barely gotten a chance to know yet. But the two girls only shared a laugh.

“Hotch, why don’t you go. I can hold things down around here.” “Y/n, it’s not your responsibility to. And quite frankly-” You dropped a file to the desk, boldly interrupting your bosses statement. You were only acting like this because you knew his wife deserved half the attention he gave to this place. “It’s a friday night, and your beautiful, pregnant wife is asking you to go to dinner with her. JJ and I will be here if anything comes up, I’ll even redirect your calls to my desk.”

“I like you.” Haley said with a smile, gently squeezing your shoulder. “She means business.”

Hotch let out a sigh, reluctantly grabbing his briefcase and punching a few buttons on his phone to make sure his calls went to you. “You or JJ call me immediately if I’m needed.”

“Promise. Now go have fun.” He gave you the smallest smile as he grabbed Haley’s extended hand to him. “Thank you, y/n. I owe you one.” Haley said as they exited his office. But you weren’t looking for a favor in return. You did this to make them happy, and you always felt better when those that surrounded you were at their best.

But Haley did end up paying you back. She asked you to babysit the first night her and Hotch went out after the baby was born. Apparently, she was impressed with your background in social services that Rossi had drunkenly let slip at the office christmas party. And only you would get excited to babysit a poopy baby, for free. And you continued to do it as many times as they needed you to.

You earned a smile from the reserved unit chief, and raised a fist in the air. “I’ll have to add that to the team tally sheet. I’m now tied with Reid for the lead in making you crack a human expression.” “Doesn’t matter who’s in the lead, you’re all behind Jack.” He quipped back and you returned his smile.

You looked back out the window of the jet, the view of any terrain was quite literally clouded. You could see the moon reflecting on the puffy clouds, and you knew then and there you could be converted to a night person if you could look at this view every night.

“I wanted to check in with you, about Randall Garner.” You looked back to your boss, eyes glued to your own, an earnest gaze in them. “With what happened last time-”

“Last time it was a sixteen year old girl. This time it was a psychotic father who was torturing his child. There’s a broad spectrum.”

“So you don’t feel guilty about taking his life?” The way your stomach flipped at the mention of your actions merely hours ago should have worried you more than it did. 

“Of course I feel guilty.” You quipped back, and quickly looked around to make sure you didn’t disturb anyone else. Hotch didn’t even flinch. “I didn’t take this job to play God. I wanted to help people, I wanted to stop people from getting hurt. To be on the other side of the heartbreak.”

Before transferring to Quantico, you worked as a social worker in Brooklyn for three years, straight out of college. You saw first hand the horrors and trauma that came with being in the foster system, and you wanted to help children going through the same situation you had. 

This became your life, even after you escaped it. And one day, it became too much. You needed a fresh start, to make a change and help people from a different platform. And with your degree in English, and minor in psychology, the BAU seemed to be a perfect fit for a new career. 

“Why did you leave DCFS?” It irked you to no end how his voice stayed so calm when he was clearly agitated. Especially since the silky smooth tone had talked you off an emotional ledge one too many times.

“Why are you interrogating me? Strauss said it was a clean shot, that she was proud to have a man like that dead and accounted for.” A direct quote from the ever emotionless section chief. If only she had any field experience, she would understand what this job was like. “Besides, I’ve been here for a year and half. You should have my file memorized by now.”

“Half of your file is sealed. Strauss must have a soft spot for you.” You actually laughed at that. Strauss most certainly did not have a soft spot for you. She was however under orders from the Attorney General of New York to keep my file sealed, no matter my employer. 

“My sealed file has nothing to do with the actions I took tonight.” You uncrossed your legs now and turned your body to face him. This conversation wasn’t ending any time soon. “If I needed help grieving this process, I would ask for it, Hotch. I’m fine.”

He wanted to believe you. More than anything else, he wanted to believe that you had found a routine that helped you forget the daily horrors you saw. But he knew that you were the last to leave the office every night, he knew you drove home with the light on in the backseat of your car every night. Deep down, he knew you weren’t fine. 

“We don’t ever truly know the people we work with. Despite the fact that we say there are no secrets in this unit, we all have our own demons we hold onto. I know you’re not fine, y/n.” You let out a strained laugh as you started tapping your foot anxiously against the ground. 

“I do though.” For the first time tonight, Hotch had no idea what you were talking about. His furrowed brow only made your throat tighten. “I know every single one of these people’s secrets. They confide in me because they know about my past with DCFS. Everything I knew was confidential, and it ate me up inside not being able to tell anybody the horrors these children go through.” You ran a hand through your hair; the flood gates were open. You feared there would be no turning back now. “It started out as me just wanting to get to know them. I wanted to be liked, and I wanted to trust my coworkers. And then overnight, I became Father l/n, sworn to secrecy by the Parish of the FBI. I’ve become a suggestion box, papers filling me up to the top and no one is coming to empty me out. 

“But I can’t even be mad at them,” I said as my eyes started to water, remembering what Spencer said to me two months into our friendship. “Spencer told me I’m the only person that’s ever listened to his problems without suggesting that he see someone to talk to. He said I was the only person that’s ever laughed at his stuffy jokes without making fun of him. I can’t be mad at them for confiding in me in their time of need. But I’m just,” You tried to smile as a tear rolled down your cheek. “I’m just really overflowing.”

Aaron Hotchner was lucky enough to have never experienced a heartbreak in his life. He met Haley his junior year of high school, she was his first and only girlfriend, hurling him into a life of love and happiness, sparing him any pain from loving someone too much. But as he watched you break in front of him, feeling so overwhelmed by the responsibility to be everyone’s rock, to be everyone’s source of light, he experienced his first heartbreak. And he was sure he never wanted to feel it again.

“So confide in me.” You didn’t think his tone could become any softer. His baritone voice had already been strained to keep from waking the others, and he somehow became even softer. But you shook your head, quickly bringing your hands up to wipe the tears that fell down your face. “Why not?”

“Because you’re the boss. You have all of us to worry about when we’re in the field. You have Strauss breathing down your neck, waiting for one of us to screw up.” He rested his elbows on his knees, slightly leaning toward you. “Most importantly, you have Haley and Jack that need you to be their confidante. That beautiful family needs you to be there when you’re not here.”

“Y/n, if you can’t come talk to me when you’re drowning in your own thoughts, I’ve failed you as a boss.” He sighed at your continued silence. “I can’t force you to open up. But I can’t watch you give and give and give without earning a reprieve of your own.”

So the two of you sat there, in a deafening silence, as you counted the seconds passing by. You were both too stubborn to pull away first, because that would be admitting defeat, and this conversation would end then and there. You counted to one hundred and eighty seconds, three minutes, when you finally got tired of staring into the endless brown eyes of Aaron Hotchner. 

You thought carefully about what you were going to say, what you would reveal in the magic that covered the two a.m. air. And no matter how hard you tried to in those one hundred and eighty seconds, you could not keep your eyes from watering.

“I grew up in foster care.” You started, scanning his face for any judgements. You weren’t going to find any. “The last, and most permanent foster parents I had were horrible. It was basic shit that happened to every kid in foster care, nothing scandalous enough to get them to be turned in. But their birth son,” You swallowed, trying to resist the urge to pick your fingernails. “He moved back in with them when I was fifteen. He was a loser, and he started to take a share of the subsidy checks. I heard him in the living room one night with Charlotte, one of the younger girls that lived there. She was only twelve, and I found him pinning her to the couch, a knife to her throat. And I just snapped. I lunged at him, knocking him off of her. It’s all blurry now, except for when I stabbed him in the throat.” My hand scratched at the side of my neck, subconsciously finding the spot I stabbed him. “He died before the ambulance got there. Charlotte and I both gave statements, and it was ruled as self defense. But the statement still lives in my file, and with some convincing, I got Strauss and DCFS to keep it sealed.”

In all honesty, Hotch didn’t know what to expect when you decided to open your mouth. But he never would’ve guessed this. Not from the doe eyed kid that never forgot a birthday, that got everyone a donut and coffee on Monday mornings. Not from the kindest person he worked with. 

“You know that took a lot of courage to get out, so it would be nice if you could say something.” You started to panic, wondering if he saw you as a monster, as a killer.

“You were the oldest one there, weren’t you?” Your eyes widened, how did he know that? “You grew up quick and took on the role of the parent for those younger kids. You wanted them to be safe, stay innocent for as long as they could.”

You finally tore yourself away from his gaze, starting to become too strong. Baby steps. 

“None of us had a family. I tried my hardest to shelter them from those people and make a family out of the five of us. And it worked. Because all four of them still reach out and tell me how successful they are.”

“But they don’t feel like your family.” You had a sad smile and looked back up at him. 

“Do you ever stop profiling?” He mirrored the smile you gave him. “No, they don’t. But I was old enough to understand that they needed each other more than I needed them. Besides, I found a pretty weird family to take me in.”

You earned another laugh from Hotch as you made a check mark in the air, referencing the team tally. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, searching through the cash and cards he had in there. 

“What are you doing?” He pulled out a thin wallet picture and turned it over to you. It was of him, Haley, and Jack on his first birthday. “You’ve got more than one weird family to belong to.”

He extended the picture to you, but you shook your head, the anxiety forming a pit in your stomach. “Hotch, this is your family. I can’t,”

“You can. And this family wouldn’t be half as happy as they are in this picture if it weren’t for you and everyone on this team.” You smiled down at the picture, Jack had frosting from his birthday cake all over his face. You reached out and took it between your fingers. “You’re a giver, y/n. You wear your heart on your sleeve and exude more empathy than we know what to do with.” You let out a laugh as you pulled out your own wallet now, tucking the picture in one of the plastic sleeves. “It’s time you learned how to accept the love you give.”

It was deep, too deep to be coming from your boss on the private jet at two in the morning. But he was more than just your boss, and they were more than just your team. And this job, boy this job was so much better than sitting in a cubicle, answering questions from a recited list.

****

[syilcawrites]

archived memories | 2

Series: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Type: Multi-Chapter Main pairing: Zelink (Zelda and Link) Rated: T Tags/Genre: pre-calamity, fluff (middle chapters mostly), hurt (toward the last chapters lmao), pining Summary: bits and pieces of zelink scenes strewn in between the canon memories in botw! Snippet from Ch 2: “Dancing with unknown men was better than being around someone that surely had no desire for anything more.” A/N: Takes place between Memory 1-3 this was supposed to be scrapped but I kinda liked it so I added it in lolol. Also decided instead of 6 chapters I'm gonna make this 8 (potentially 9 ehe). Thanks for reading! You can also read it on ao3! Click here to see all chapters on tumblr

Chapter 2: merry-go-round

Zelda twirled, twirled, and twirled with the rhythm of the music—an endless merry-go-round that she had to take part in, like a stringed puppet forced to dance until her feet bled.

She really did feel like it was, as the laughter of the Hylian men she danced with pierced through her ears, an endlessly constant reminder of who she was.

She stared up at the ceiling of the ballroom, watching the intricate designs turn blurred and dizzy in her vision with the constant movement she was in. Switching and turning, gripping the various hands of different men, smiling pleasantly at them, nodding, keeping her mouth shut—

As she twirled once more into the arms of another, she was met with a wave of familiarity. Her view of the ceiling was obscured by a red-headed woman.

“You seem awfully engaged,” Urbosa mused, smiling. Zelda let her shoulders sag in relief, relaxing just a little.

“I’m not one to fancy these… gatherings.” Zelda replied back, shrugging. “Especially when I can feel someone’s eyes poking my back throughout the entirety of it.” Zelda darted her eyes off to the side, tilting her head ever so slightly to the left. Urbosa followed her gaze, to the quiet knight standing off in the corner of the ballroom.

“Awe, come on now. He’s not so bad, is he?”

Zelda let out a short, stale laugh. “I can’t even hear my own thoughts when he’s around me.” Even though he never spoke, his presence was just… loud. At least for her.

Urbosa sighed, but with a smile, and gazed upon Zelda with eyes that reminded her of her late mother. “He is reliable, my little bird. Far more than you think. I think you two could be great friends if you would give him the chance, truly.”

Zelda mulled over her words, turning it over. A relationship in which they could be friends…

Before she could respond, she was once again thrown into the arms of a stranger.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Her hot breaths came out in puffs of smoke as she gazed upon the moon, sweat lightly dampening her skin, The gentle breeze cooled her down as she yearned longingly upon the land basking quietly under the moonlight. She had taken the opportunity to slip out of the ballroom, to the balcony, when no one was looking.

For once, she could hear the sound of crickets, of frogs, of the wind rustling through leaves—

A step behind her dragged her out from her moment of bliss, unsurprisingly.

Zelda didn't even turn around to see who it was—tonight, she was tired, and dreadfully sinking further and further into the murk of her thoughts. She didn’t have the energy to feel anything else.

“Not enjoying the ball, I assume?” Zelda asked, sarcasm coating her words. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shift. When she turned around to face him, he merely gazed at her with a gentle look. For some reason, it made her feel even worse.

She turned away from him, resting her cheek on her hand as she leaned against the railing of the balcony. “Don’t you hate being here?”

He responded with a shuffle of his feet. But the sound of the act meant nothing to her.

“Well, I hate it.” Zelda declared, loudly into the night sky. “Maybe you wouldn’t know, since you’re already so…” she trailed off. There she was, igniting her own anger once more. It was funny that she realized this now, during a time where she felt utterly defeated. “Since you’re already perfectly capable of doing your job. Expectations are already met, so you really wouldn’t know how it feels, right?” She knew he wouldn’t respond, but it felt better saying it out loud. Letting all of Hylia hear it, maybe even Hylia herself would hear the silent plea tucked in between the words she was expressing.

She knew he had shuffled closer to her, but why?

She turned around and he froze, as if he was caught in some unlawful act. She watched his hand, which had been just barely lifted up, go limp immediately. Her eyes darted back to those endlessly blue eyes, masked and shielded. Urbosa’s words swam around in her mind as she stepped closer to him, observingly. They were close enough that she could hear his shallow breathing and the light thump of his heart beat against his chest. Their breaths mingled for just a second.

Give him a chance.

An ache bloomed in her chest as Zelda shut her eyes for just a moment. The mere possibility of anything more than what they were simply pained her. She turned away from him, walking back toward the door. Dancing with unknown men was better than being around someone that surely had no desire for anything more.

But a moment of rest was not in Zelda’s agenda, since the second she stepped back into the ballroom she was whisked away within the next beat. The man’s grip on her hand was too tight—sweaty, as he pressed against her body as if he was try to hold her up.

“How do you do?” She strained a smile at him, trying to maintain some sort of proper distance between the two of them, but he was rigid. Annoyingly rigid. She didn’t really listen to him as he answered, because she was too focused on trying to push him off of her. If he took a hint, which he clearly did not, he didn’t show it. Whenever he spoke, hot breath smacked against her face. Whenever he moved, his hand that had initially rested on her upper waist moved further down her body, and his face dipped down closer to hers.

Zelda’s frown deepened, her face red with something between disbelief, humiliation, and anger. She was just about ready to shove this man to the ground—

A blade sliced the air between the man and her, close enough to nip a little skin off of the man’s nose.

A startled sound came from him as he jumped back from the blade that had come between him and Zelda, grabbing his nose as if it had been sliced clean off.

She blinked, looking at her own confused eyes in the reflection of the blade, but just as quick, it was pulled away. Zelda looked to her right, watching Link sheath his sword back.

As the man became a blabbering mess, pointing accusing fingers at him, Link merely casted him a shadow of an annoyed glance. He did not look at her and turned around, back to the corners of the ballroom.

[kirishwima]

Could you please write about RFA + V&Saeran reacting to MC playing otome games? I don't know if you ever wrote something like that before. Thank u ♥️

as a big fan of otome games i’m obligated to answer this OwO

Since you haven’t specified any pronouns, I’ll be using they/them for MC!

YOOSUNG:

* “MC, do you like playing games?” he asks one day whilst on a call with MC, the glee in his voice palpable.

* He’s so happy when MC replies with a shy yes! He’s about to ask them is they play LOLOL when MC cuts him off with a rush. “I-it’s probably not the kind of games you play though!”

* He’s a little baffled by that, but MC is quick to change the topic to Yoosung’s beloved LOLOL, and he’s sufficiently distracted to let the matter slide in the meantime.

* It’s only after he and MC meet at the party, only after they start dating and spending much more time together that he understands just what kind of a gamer MC really is.

* “MC! Stop paying attention to your fake boyfriend and come hug me! Me! Flesh and bone, right here!” he groans, patting at his chest and belly with a big sad pout-and really, MC you heartless fiend, how can you ignore those big puppy eyes in favor of an online hottie on your laptop?!

* He’s not nearly as upset over MC’s choice of games as one would think-so long as he receives sufficient amounts of kisses and cuddles, and reassurances that he’s their one and only true boyfriend, he’s good! He’ll even watch MC as they game on their phone whilst they rest their head on his chest.

* “Oh, MC, go with that guy! He looks um-” he blushes, wondering how to phrase his next words-how can he say that that dude with the choker full of spikes and smudged eyeliner looks hot?! “he looks...promising?”

* Oho? *MC will remember that.*

ZEN:

* He never really noticed what exactly it was MC was playing-he saw them giggling at their phone or laptop from time to time and found it cute, sometimes he’d see the background of a game but he’d pay no mind to it-if it was something MC wanted to share with him, they would after all!

* Well, one day he was sitting besides them as they played on their laptop, going over his lines when MC laughed and tugged at his shirt, nodding over to their screen. 

* “Zenny, look at this-doesn’t this guy look a lot like Jumin?”

* Zen raised a brow and looked at the screen-and he was floored. The man at the screen was a well-drawn, hyper-realistic man that really did look oddly similar to that Trustfund prick-and what was that? There was a dialogue bubble at the side of him that wrote ‘For you, my love, I’d buy the moon and all the stars.”

* “MC-are you not satisfied with me...?” he trembled as he uttered the words, his eyes fixated to the man on the screen-and he suddenly had a deep desire to punch Jumin the next time he saw him (doesn’t he always feel that way tho orz)

* It took a lot of explaining from MC to show him that yes, this is just a game, and no, this isn’t real-yes they’re super happy with Zen and don’t need any compensation from a virtual boyfriend, these are just fun games to play, same as Yoosung with his LOLOL.

* Eventually Zen eases into the idea, though not entirely-and if he catches MC playing any game like that, he’ll always urge them to go for the character that most resembles himself lmao

JAEHEE:

* She really doesn’t see the appeal-and doesn’t really have much of a reaction when MC tells her of their hobby. 

*She’s interested to learn of what MC enjoys in their free time, and she’s content to spend some time lounging around on the couch with them, her watching Zen’s musical whilst MC plays on their phone or laptop, and she’ll occasionally look to MC’s screen, offer commentary on the characters, but that’s pretty much it

* Until one day....MC discovers a Zen dating fan game.

* They figure Jaehee will be thrilled to see this, that she’ll want to play this right away! So they waste no time in showing it to them-the plot is fairly good and the art is great, so they know it’s a promising game...

* ...but Jaehee doesn’t seem all that interested. She shakes her head when MC offers her their phone, pushing it back to MC.

* “Thank you, but I’ve already seen this game before-playing as Zen’s lover feels weird, more so when he’s a dear friend. If you’d like to play it you’re free to do so though....” she lowered her head at that last bit, biting her lip. 

* With a bit of coaxing and a chin tilt so she’d look MC in the eye, Jaehee admitted her fear. “W-what if after playing this game you fall in love with Zen?! Of course I had no such fear with all the other games you play, they’re fake, but this is real and it’s Zen and-”

* MC had to kiss Jaehee to shush her, the phone all but forgotten, the game still gleaming on the screen. 

* “Let’s never play that game, ok? Neither of us has any use for it. I love you, and only you” MC whispered on Jaehee’s lips-and that was all the confirmation Jaehee needed.

* Zen couldn’t stop sneezing that night, poor dude lmao

JUMIN:

* “So....MC you enjoy playing as someone else’s significant other?”    “I mean...kind of but not really?”    “I see.”

* The conversation was as awkward as you can imagine-MC had been giggling at something a character had said while playing on their phone, and Jumin asked what they were laughing about, so they answered honestly-and that’s how they ended up here, sitting across each other, MC’s phone in the middle of the two on the dining table, the rich-dude-character still shining on the screen, his brooding expression perfectly matching Jumin’s.

* “Is there anything you feel is lacking from our relationship, that these games provide instead?” Jumin asked, nodding down to MC’s phone.

* “No! No, not at all-Jumin, these are just games, and these are simply characters. I enjoy playing the games, and I like seeing well-written characters, but that’s as far as my exchange with them goes. You-you’re here. You’re with me, and we’re together. I love you, and no game can change this or take that away.”

* This is getting too meta for me lmao

* “I see” Jumin said at last-the words sounded cold, but his lips betrayed a small smile as he stood up, coming around to kneel in front of MC, taking their hands in his. “Thank you for being honest with me, MC.”

* And that was that. Or so MC thought.

* Barely a week after this conversation, a notification popped up on MC’s phone. ‘New Otome Game, Exclusive-Corporate Heir Professes His Love?!’

* Curious MC cilcked on the suspicious link, assuming it’d be a prank from Seven or something of the sort-but hoo boy, it sure wasn’t.

* No, instead it was a full-blown, million-dollar-budget otome game; featuring Jumin Han himself, with his own voice, and a lot of cameos by Elizabeth the 3d-even the MC was built-in the game, designed to look exactly like...well, like MC.

* Jealousy, meet Jumin Han, the man that created an entire freaking game for his fiance to play, which he updates weekly so they’ll focus on him and only him lmao

SEVEN/SAEYOUNG:

* “Dude, you’re playing The Arcana?! Do Julian’s route, he’s one kinky motherf-mmf!”

* Seven’s words were cut short as MC put a hand over his mouth, stopping him mid-sentence. “Babe!” they screamed, “spoilers! I’m still on the prologue!”

* He plays any and all games, and otome are no exceptions lol, it just has to be good enough to catch Seven’s eye.

* He’ll often recommend games to MC, or lay in bed with them and play on their phone, choosing bad dialogue options on purpose to mess with them lol

* You’d think he’d make them an otome game featuring himself since they love them so much-and he might, but he’s a little too self-conscious for that lol, so he’d end up making it more of a meme than anything. He might add in a deep profound love confession unlocked through a series of tests though, just to see if MC would go through the trouble of achieving it~

* And they would-it’d take a lot of trial and error but they’d reach a point in Seven’s game where there’d be a blank screen and his own voice, simply telling MC how much he loves them, how he’d do anything to see their smile and how their every action brightens up his day. It’s short and simple, but enough to make MC’s heart melt, and make them run to Seven’s desk to jump in his arms and kiss him.

* Also he’s a total sucker for blushy innocent characters that can’t reckon danger if it were to punch them in the face, wAnna guess whY?

* also if u havent go play the arcana its p darn good

V/JIHYUN:

* He finds MC’s obsession with otome games to be pretty darn cute?! The way they giggle at some of the dialogue or point out their favorite and explain why they like that character to V is so endearing, and he’s always eagerly listening to their explanations-he’ll even play with them from time to time.

* He won’t really play otome games on his own, but he’ll sit with MC on his lap, his head resting on their shoulder as he helps them pick dialogue options (the best, cutest option, always-this man can’t be mean even to a fictional character, never)

* His favorite seem to be the overly sarcastic, blunt characters that seem to want nothing to do with the main character-MC questioned him about it once, asking him if he’s a masochist or something, but he gave them such an innocent look they just dropped the subject without much thought.

* One night MC was too busy playing otome games as V sat on the couch besides them, gently nudging their thigh with his for even a glimpse of their attention-but MC kept mumbling ‘not now babe’, focusing on their game and the moving dialogue.

* V pouted, prodding his lip as he leaned close to MC. “Baby, do you prefer these characters over me...?”

* Listen. Listen V does NOT get into these cutesy moods often so if he does you are LEGALLY OBLIGED TO DROP EVERYHTING YOU’RE GOING AND GIVE HIM ALL YOUR ATTENTION and that’s exactly what MC did, otome games be damned.

* V=Victorious

SAERAN/RAY/UNKNOWN:

* He’s so confused???!

* “Wait so the point of the game is to...date the characters?! All of them?!”

* MC nodded, a mischievous grin on their lips. “Sound familiar?” they asked, knowing full well that was how Ray once lured them to Mint Eye-a story as old as time now, now that he’s on his path to recovery, now that the two are happy together.

* Saeran grumbled under his breath, a blush spreading on his cheek. “It’s not like I really knew what these games were at the time...I just took a look at your search history, saw a lot of that ‘otome’ or whatever and made up a rouse based off of it. I didn’t know you’re that invested in them!”

* MC laughed at his obvious confusion, how he looked to MC’s screen, a desktop folder full of otome games open on their screen and glaring back at them. He pouted, furrowing his brow.

* “Wait but-you’re not like-you like me right?”

* MC rolled their eyes. He was slowly getting over his insecurities, sure, but there was still a long way to go.

* They leaned in close and kissed him, a quick peck on the lips before they leaned back, looking to their computer screen. “I could delete all these if it’d make you feel better. I love you. Only you.” they shrugged.

* Saeran’s reddened face was adorable, the way his breath hitched in his throat, his hands trembing as he came to rest his fingers over MC’s wrist. 

* “N-no it’s-it’s okay, I trust you. I um-I love you too.”

* He’s not a fan of otome games, especially not with the connnotations they have for him, but well, if his beloved likes them...he doesn’t mind building a proper game for them.

-send me a mystic messenger headcanon for character reactions-

[highsviolets]

of caf & conversations

pairing: non-toxic masculinity, wedge/luke if you squint

summary: “So, Luke Skywalker, hero of the Rebellion: what on earth is keeping you up at night?”

word count: 3k 

rating: G

A/N: lolol I said I would post the update for “steady” this week and then @blonde-avenger and I were talking and, well, this happened. I can never refuse Luke Skywalker shenanagins. Canon + Legends compliant.

OF CAF & CONVERSATIONS, a fic by corellians-only [read on AO3 | external references are linked]

Wedge felt a sharp dig in his ribs as he lifted his cup of caf to his lips. The slim pilot scowled as the precious liquid danced over the top of the metal cup and collided with his flight suit. A stain started blooming on the weighty fabric of his khaki-colored trousers, creating an intricate patchwork of splotches.

“Seriously, Tycho?” he asked, staring in askance at the blonde-haired human male sitting to his right. “What is so important that you couldn’t wait until I finished my caf?”

While the Rebellion was a self-defined group of informal group of fighters, politicians, and the galaxy’s strays that gave little thought to rank, Rogue Squadron was infamous for its blatant disregard for rules and regulations.

Be that as it may, a few unofficial ordinances that governed the squad of ace pilots to preserve what remains of my sanity, Luke had commented dryly a few months earlier, after a particularly colorful incident that featured commandeered Corellian whiskey, a broken ‘fresher unit, and Wes Janson’s bedsheets.

Rule number one: Never, ever, come between Wedge Antilles and his cup of caf.

Everyone knew that. General Jan Dodonna. High Command Leader Mon Mothma. Even roguish Han Solo respected the man’s right to enjoy his caf in peace. Captain Wedge Antilles’ devotion to the caffeinated drink was nearly as legendary as Rogue Squadron itself.

Tycho ignored Wedge’s griping, merely arching an eyebrow. He pointed to the opposite side of the rudimentary mess hall. In the dim light of the glow rods, Wedge could make out Luke Skywalker making his way towards them with a cup of caf in each hand.

“That’s Luke,” Wedge stated baldly, still peeved at the interruption.

Tycho sighed, a gentle sound that belied the fact that his patience was wearing thin. “I know, Wedge. I live with the man. So do you. Or are you confused on that front as well?”

Wedge rolled his eyes in response to his wingmate’s sarcasm. “What’s your point, O Noble and Wise One?”

“The point, my stubborn Corellian friend, is—”

“Wait, was Luke scheduled for a patrol?” Wedge cut him off.

“There we go. Knew the converters would fire up eventually.” Tycho sat back and nodded approvingly, crossing his arms as he did so. The heavy-duty winter uniform did nothing to hide the grace of his movements, a remnant of his Alderaanian uprising that not even harsh training at the Imperial Academy — or the irrevocable loss of his culture — could push aside.

From his relaxed position, Tycho extended a gloved hand and snatched Wedge’s cup, taking a sip of caf. He shuddered.

“Wedge, this is disgusting.” He thrust the offending beverage back into Wedge’s open hands, his tone hurt and betrayed, as though Wedge not properly sweetening his caf was a personal affront to Tycho’s sensibilities.

“That is not caf.” Tycho pointed at swirling black liquid. “That’s what Zraii uses to clean our X-wings.” He regarded Wedge with concern. “Are you sure Wes didn’t swap your cups again?”

“I don’t hear you complaining about how I take my caf when it makes me awake enough to cover your six.” Wedge shot back. “Besides, I’m not the one who worries about his hair in the middle of firefight.”

“If you’re done squabbling like an old married couple, you’re right, Wedge.” Derek “Hobbie” Klivian, another human male pilot from Ralltir, joined them, plopping down on the other side of Wedge.  

“I served a double patrol with Luke yesterday. Neither of us were scheduled for patrol today,” Hobbie added, discarding his outer layer.

Tycho winced in sympathy. Fourteen consecutive standard hours patrolling the Force-forsaken, freezing pile of bantha dung that was Hoth was dangerous, and not for the usual reasons. Hypothermia and avalanches were the most fearsome enemies on this planet — a far cry from the proton torpedoes and firefights that usually incited fear even in the most hardened of pilots.

Hobbie glanced up at Luke, who was rapidly closing in on the trio. “As far as I know, he was in meetings with High Command all day.”

“I don’t know,” mused Wedge. “I might prefer patrol to listening to politicians all day.” He frowned, considering the situation. “Then why is Luke wearing full gear? Is he crazy?”

Tycho shook his head, amused. “Stang if I know. But I’m glad you’ve finally caught on, boss.” He clapped Wedge on the shoulder in mock approval, a grin playing about his lips.

“Wait, am I the last one to notice this?” Wedge’s eyes darted from side to side, a look of incredulity spreading across his features. He was the squadron’s executive officer. Taking care of his pilots was not only his job, it was a source of pride — and if Luke was technically his commanding officer, well, that was a matter of semantics. And Rebels didn’t care much for those.

“Well, I wouldn’t say the last,” Hobbie inserted pragmatically. “I don’t think Wes knows.”

Wedge fixed him with a hard stare, not appreciating the comparison with the accident-prone pilot. “That’s not saying much, Hobbie.”

He shrugged apathetically. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

Tycho motioned with his hands in a be quiet motion as Luke approached. “Good evening, Commander,” he greeted Luke pleasantly, his tone abandoning its previous mischievousness.

“Hello, Tycho,” Luke responded in kind, his blue eyes clear despite the sheen of weariness that stretched over his features. “Wedge. Hobbie. Good to see you.”

“Is there something out there, sir?” Wedge gestured with his free hand, the one that wasn’t clutching the cup of caf, to Luke’s quilted white coat.

The collar was turned up to provide maximum protection against the elements, and Luke had piled beige utility vest on top. A scarf fluttered from its haphazard perch around his neck, obscuring the rank cylinders that Wedge knew lay on the left breast pocket.

Luke’s face and sandy head of hair were the only bodily surfaces not completely swaddled in fabric of some sort. The whole ensemble — combined with his boyish good looks and gentle demeanor — had the effect of reducing Commander Luke Skywalker, destroyer of the Death Star, to something akin to a young porg.

“Another suspected meteor?” Tycho probed.

Luke’s brows bunched together. “Uh, no?” He shook his head. “Situation’s normal — as though the nine hells of Corellia had frozen over.” He shot a playful glance at Wedge. “You would know something about that, wouldn’t you, Wedge?”

He bent over and placed the extra cup on the table as he spoke, but the movement lacked its usual swiftness owing to the bulk of his gear. Tycho leaned over and pulled out a chair, and Luke sat, nodding at him gratefully. The lightsaber attached to his hip bumped against his leg as he sat, catching the reflection of the glow rods stationed strategically around the room. The movement drew Wedge’s eye, and it occurred to him absently that the antique weapon seemed to gleam even in the dull illumination of the mess hall.

“Actually, I don’t think he would, sir. The nine hells kicked him out, so the powers that be made him our problem.” Hobbie eyed Wedge’s cup warily. “Have you tasted his caf? No sane human can drink caf that strong.”

“When will you three get it in your heads that not every Corellian is a scoundrel?” Wedge asked. He pointed to himself. “My parents ran fueling station. No spice. No smuggling. No bribes.”

“Weren’t you raised by a smuggler after your parents died?” Luke asked suspiciously.

“Well, that doesn’t mean that I was a smuggler,” Wedge deflected. “Besides, I was already a teenager when Gus Tetra Station went up in flames. Booster Terrik didn’t exactly have to tuck me into bed at night.”

Luke snorted in amusement. “With logic like that, I was never a moisture farmer, I was just raised by one.”

Wedge sobered slightly. Like him, Luke’s parents had died, leaving him to be brought up by his next of kin. But Wedge was lucky. He had known his parents still reflected on fond memories from his childhood. Luke had enjoyed no such luxuries.

Tycho butted in before Wedge could change the topic. “I agree with Luke.” He began counting off on his fingers, naming each instance in turn. “So, you never helped him with accounts? Installed illegal parts on his ship? Owned belongings that had been declared contraband by the Diktat? Never went with him to meet a client?”

Sensing defeat, Wedge inclined his head. “Well, that may have happened. And I may have used his contacts to secure my first deals before I went to the Academy. But those were legitimate. I, personally, am not a smuggler.” He raised his chin in an act of defiance.

“Well, well, whatever shall we do with such a disloyal son of Corellia?” Hobbie asked in mock seriousness, as though he were presiding over a trial.

“He’s still a Rebel,” Luke pointed out mildly, sipping his caf. “I think that counts for something.”

Wedge cleared his throat in a desperate attempt to bring the conversation back under control. This was getting out of hand, and Wes Janson wasn’t even here.

“If there’s no patrol, sir, why are you wearing full gear?”

Luke started at the change in topic and then blushed, a delicate tinge of red sweeping across his cheeks even in the coolness of the hollowed out ice cavern. “It’s always best to be prepared, Wedge.”

Wedge met Tycho’s eyes and had a feeling that the puzzlement he saw etched on Tycho’s face mirrored his own.

“Sir, we haven’t seen action in days.” This time it was Hobbie who spoke. “Unless you know something we don’t…” his voice trailed off, the question lingering even as it went unsaid. Is Rogue being deployed?

Luke shook his head. “No, you know as much as I do, boys.”

The mood shifted palpably at his announcement. His pilots, Luke had learned, did not actively seek out conflict, but being grounded for more than a few days at a time tended to make them restless. And impatient, reckless pilots get killed, Luke reflected. Maybe I can get them scheduled for some supply runs. He filed away the suggestion to take up with High Command later.

“Okay, so if you can’t answer that, then why do you have two cups of caf? Are you planning on taking on the entire Imp vanguard by yourself? You never drink more than cup a day.” Luke’s XO indicated the cup on the table and its partner, now clenched around Luke’s gloved hands.

“C’mon, Wedge. If I wanted to take on the vanguard, I’d at least let you vape a few of your own.” Luke turned his head and grinned lightly at Tycho. “Leave Tycho here to clean up the mess and deal with this group of loca kung.”

“Hey! Watch who you’re insulting in — well, whatever language that is,” Hobbie protested weakly and turned to Tycho, hoping he would back up the beleaguered pilot.

“Don’t look at me.” Tycho lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I wasn’t the one who insulted you.”

Wedge cocked his head. “Was that…Huttese, Luke?”

Blue eyes averted brown, fixating on some amorphous clump of snow directly above their table. “Maybe.”

Something about the gesture unnerved Wedge, and he began to examine Luke more closely.

Sure enough, Luke’s leg was bouncing, and his shoulders were hunched together, as though he could keep the warmth closer to his body by closing in on himself. He couldn’t see Luke’s hands, but Wedge would bet his last round of sabaac winnings that Luke’s knuckles were white underneath his gloves, latching onto the warmth provided by the caf in a vice grip.

And with the precision of an ion cannon, it all clicked into place. Heavy jacket. Moisture farmer. Two cups of caf. Huttese.

“Hey, Luke?”

“Yeah, Wedge?”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Uh, last night, Wedge. You were there.” He sounded bemused.

“No,” Wedge corrected. “I saw you get into your bunk. I don’t know if you actually slept.”

“Well, I slept.”

“You sure?” Wedge pushed.

“Pretty sure, Captain.” Luke’s tone was firm, and Wedge winced at the use of his rank.

“Just making sure, Commander.” Wedge tossed back the rest of his caf. “Can’t have Rogue Leader operating on backwash fuel,” he added, as though the comment had been a casual afterthought.

Luke’s eyes widened, but he kept his tone even. “Is there something to suggest otherwise, Antilles?”

“Honestly, sir?” At Luke’s encouraging nod, Wedge shrugged. “A few things. The jacket. The caf.”

Luke’s blue eyes narrowed. “You knew I was’t sleeping because I wore a jacket and drank caf? And because you didn’t physically see me sleeping?”  

“Wedge knew you weren’t sleeping because he was stalking you, sir” Tycho put in, easing the tension that had settled over the group. “I, however, had a feeling that you weren’t sleeping because I haven’t seen you hug anyone in days.”

“Tycho?” asked Hobbie. “Shut up. That’s even creepier than Wedge’s assessment somehow. Luke doesn’t want to hear that.”

Hobbie turned to Luke. “I thought you weren’t sleeping because you didn’t make one joke about womp rats yesterday — not once, over the span of fourteen hours, with nothing to stare at but ice, did you mention those infernal creatures.”

Luke shook his head ruefully. “Am I really so obvious?” he questioned aloud.

His pilots looked at each other. “Yes,” they answered in unison.

Wedge met Luke’s gaze. “Look, Commander, we’re just concerned for you. As your friends, not as your pilots. We have every confidence in your ability to lead us, sir.”

Luke smiled wanly, and he looked older than his 22 years. “No cylinders, Captain,” he instructed softly, the fight having drained out of his voice.

Hobbie sighed dramatically and reached up to unpin his rank. “Oh, thank the Force. I hate having to dance around rank like we all haven’t seen each other —“

“Thanks for listening, Luke.” Tycho spoke over Hobbie’s sarcasm and placed a hand on Luke’s arm.

“I can’t very well ignore my best pilots, now, can I?” His blue eyes met Tycho’s own. “Especially when they’re my best friends.”

Tycho smiled.”That’s what we’re here for. He squeezed Luke’s arm before releasing his grip and leaning back into his chair once more. “So, Luke Skywalker, hero of the Rebellion: what on earth is keeping you up at night?”

“Well, we know it’s not women troubles,” Hobbie quipped, frowning when two pairs of eyes fixed him with a steely glare.

“Not. Helping,” seethed Wedge between gritted teeth.

Hobbie ignored him. “Well? Is it?” he queried Luke.

The younger pilot shook his head. “No.”

“Okay. Gambling debts? R2 unit can’t be repaired? Missing family member? A strangling feeling of impending doom?”

Luke shook his head at each suggestion. “None of the above. Although, I think the feeling of impending doom is just you, Hobbie.”

“A pity,” Hobbie returned wryly. “It does wonders for one’s health.”

Luke took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Honestly, guys? It’s not that deep. I’’m just really cold.”

“You can’t sleep because you’re cold?” Wedge blurted, unable to contain his incredulity.

“I’m from a desert planet with two suns, Wedge.” Luke’s voice held a hint of his regular self with the teasing. “What did you think would happen when you put me on a snow planet?”

Wedge exhaled slowly. “Well, when you put it like that —“

“—which I do —“

“that kinda makes sense,” he admitted.

Luke smirked. “Good to know I’m not barvy as well as sleep-deprived and freezing.”

Tycho placed his hands above his head. “Well, I gotta say, that’s kind of a relief, Luke. I thought you had combat fatigue or something. This is problem is a piece of ryshcate compared to that.”

He looked at Wedge. “Did I say it right?” he asked, referring to the invocation of the famous Corellian dessert.

Wedge shook his head. “Well, technically yes, but your pronunciation is atrocious. I think Gamorreans could say it better than you.”

“Gentlemen.” Hobbie extended his hands palm-first. “If we could return to the task at hand, I propose a simple solution.”

“I’m all ears,” Luke said seriously.

“Luke can’t sleep because he’s cold. What’s the simplest way to conserve heat? Stick close together. So, the three of us take turns bunking with Luke to conserve body heat and make sure our dear old Commander finally catches some shut-eye.” Hobbie stated his conclusion apathetically, as though he hadn’t just suggested what sounded suspiciously like a squadron-wide sleepover.

“Hobbie.” Tycho stated slowly. “You hate being close to people.”

Hobbie shrugged. “So get Dak to take my place. Does it matter who it is as long as it’s one of us and it means Luke can sleep?”

Wedge searched Luke’s face for signs of misgiving, but found none. “Are you okay with this?”

Luke considered. “Would you care even if I wasn’t?”

“You know I would.” Wedge’s voice was low and serious.

“Yeah, I’m okay with it.” Luke smiled brightly and met Wedge’s brown eyes. Even without reaching out in the Force, Luke could feel that Wedge was radiating warmth and concern.

“Well, it’s a plan then,” Tycho confirmed, looking between Wedge and Luke. “Wedge, you’re up first.” His eyes twinkled. “Time to take our dear old Commander to bed.”

Luke reached across the table and lightly punched Tycho in shoulder. “Hey, watch who you’re calling old.” He yawned, screwing up his face and rubbing his eyes as he did so. With a concentrated effort, he heaved onto his feat.

“Mind if we turned in?” he asked Wedge. “I know it’s relatively early but—“ Luke blushed for the second time that evening — “I really haven’t sleep in weeks.”

Wedge nodded. “Of course, Luke. Whatever you want.” He stood, matching Luke’s stance, and the two walked away, speaking softly.

Hobbie looked at Tycho, who was watching them with a grin on his face. “Did you do that on purpose?”

“If I didn’t, you’d never know.”

[m1smatched-starsigns]

How many fics have you started/completed and which new fic will you post next? Love your work.

Hello! Strap in because I’m the queen of unfinished fics! :D

My very first fic was titled C-H-O-I-C-E-S, and it was a Bluestar/Oakheart AU (I’d just finished Bluestar’s Prophecy for the first time and was deep in my feels). It revolved around Oakheart joining Bluefur in ThunderClan and helping raise the kits so that Bluefur could still become deputy.

My second fic was called Hollyleaf’s Second Chance, and it was an AU in which Hollyleaf lived through the Great Battle. After my Hollystar AU got so much positive attention, I’ve started thinking about reviving this one! It wouldn’t be anything like my original fic because that idea needed a lot of work lol.

The third fic was Thistles in the Snow, an AU in which Snowfur saves Thistleclaw from being killed in the Great Battle, but accidentally reincarnates them both as ThunderClan kits. Snowfur remembered the past but Thistleclaw didn’t, so she makes it her mission to keep him on the straight and narrow this time around. I’ve always had a soft spot for this fic and I’ve considered reviving it before, but I don’t see it happening anytime soon. 

The fourth fic was Dark Shadows, a Blackstar/Russetfur AU. I think I made it to chapter 15 before I quit writing for about a year, and when I picked up the pen again I couldn’t stand to look back at old chapters, so it was deleted as well. A lot of longtime readers actually discovered my account through this fic and sometimes they reference it in reviews, and it always warms my heart. Also, the first time I ever got fanart was because of this fic!

The fifth fic was F-R-A-M-E-D, a Mousewhisker/Minnowtail murder mystery AU! It took place shortly after the Great Battle, when Mousewhisker’s apprentice is murdered and he’s the prime suspect. He is banished from ThunderClan so Minnowtail convinces Mistystar to take him in while they work to prove his innocence and solve the case!

(this is where everything becomes foggy in my head)

My sixth fic is The Impossible Life of a SkyClan Warrior, which is still alive! I’m in the process of revising it for the third time but I’m determined to complete this one! Although I didn’t publish the first chapter until 2017, it was one of the very first ideas I ever had. It’s very sentimental to me which is probably why I’ve made so many changes to it, but I think this is going to be the last time I make any major changes.

Oh look, fanart!

Rebel was my seventh fic and a real roller-coaster ride for a lot of readers! It was an Icecloud/Smokefoot AU and basically followed Icecloud going through her teenage rebellion phase lol. I deleted/revived it at least twice and it became very popular, but I would fall in and out of love with it too often to ever complete it. However, it did serve as inspiration for my next fic…

My baby, Dawn Frost! Oddly enough I went into this fic with the mindset that I would probably delete it after a few chapters, and it didn’t receive any reviews at first so that was discouraging, but right around chapter four I found my stride and couldn’t stop writing. It slowly gained popularity until completion, and to this day I still get reviews/messages about it. I learned a lot from DF and I’m still so proud of it.

Dawn Frost also has some lovely fanart that you can check out here and here! The coverphoto is also fanart but I can’t seem to find the link rn!

The ninth fic was How to Come Home, a Breezepelt/Heathertail redemption AU! I published the first chapter just a few days after completed Dawn Frost and I went into it thinking I would complete it, but five chapters deep I felt like I wasn’t doing Breezepelt justice. I had his character in my head but I couldn’t seem to translate it to paper, so I deleted it. I fully intend to revive it one day, and I still have all of the old chapters saved in a doc, but I don’t want to tackle a complicated character like Breezepelt until I’m confident that I can handle him :)

I believe Written in the Stars came next. Of all of my ideas, I’ve daydreamed the most about this monster. It’s very close to my heart and for five years I thought I would never publish it, but I took the plunge in 2018 and it’s still alive! I actually took a break from revising it to write this post, but I’m halfway done with revisions now. Once those are complete I’m going to do a second, more thorough round of edits and then I’m going to redraw the outline again. Hopefully everything I’m doing now will prevent me from revising the entire fic/outline three different times!

Fic number eleven is actually a one-shot collection titled Five Truths! I started this collection as a way to shine a light on the characters who didn’t necessarily get one in the main series. Honestly, it’s just a way for me to share my headcanons lol.

Fic number twelve is a two-shot called If Wishes Were Falling Stars. It’s nothing special, just a fluffy two-shot about two cats falling in love. It focuses on young Hailstar/Echomist from Crookedstar’s Promise and features Best Boy Shellheart, Not Evil Rainflower, and Oblivious Timberfur.

Alone on the Water is a one-shot that started writing on a whim in History class, and I published it two hours later. It’s a Mousewhisker-centric fic following the Great Battle and the PTSD that nobody talks about. I’ve never struggled with PTSD but I talked with somebody who has, because I wanted to get it right. I never thought I would be confident enough in my skills to portray something like PTSD, so I’m proud of it.

Lucky number fourteen is The Trouble with Soulmates and I deleted it after two chapters. It was originally meant to be a lighthearted Blackstar/Russetfur AU, but as I was outlining it I realized I wanted to make it a darker, behind-the-scenes sort of AU. So this one will definitely be revived in the future, I’m just not sure when!

I started my fifteenth fic, SHATTERED, on a whim and deleted it two days later lol. It’s been my brain baby for a few years but it’s not quite done cooking, so this one will likely be revived sometime in the future!

My most recent work is another one-shot collection titled S H A D O W S, and it’s entirely Blackstar/Russetfur centric! The name is a reference to Dark Shadows, and it’s to hold me over and stop me from starting another fic about them.

As for any future works, I’m not sure what I’ll publish next. I really want to focus on Written in the Stars and The Impossible Life of a SkyClan Warrior, and ideally, I would like to complete one of those before I publish anything new. But I think my track record proves that I have no restraint lolol

There is one fic that I’m actively working on, and that’s Only in Dreams, a Windflight/Poppydawn fic. I’ve got the first five chapters sitting pretty in a doc, waiting to be published, but I’m controlling my impulsive urges for as long as possible! Of all of my fics this one is the most personal, so I’m hoping to do it right the first time and not have any revisions down the road! 

If you actually read all of this then you’re probably judging me already, so drop by and tell me what your favorite title is! I think my personal favorites are How to Come Home, The Trouble With Soulmates, and Only in Dreams

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Prompt 53 from the list; if you dont want to you dont but I'd love Vasquez saying it to Rhys just b4 Jack comes in and saves the day Afterwards sexytime Rhack is always great too ;D

This was like, the best goddamn prompt anon, both in terms of substance and ooey-gooey tropes BLESS YOU. Also, Vasquez doesn’t survive this one folks LOLOL Nothing too horrible happens to Rhys here; ya’ll know my content and I’m not ready to get into total non-con area juuuust yet xD You can check the tags on ao3 if worried tho ^___^

From this prompt list :)  53 was “Do you think you can keep quiet for me?” This labeled as The Executive Treatment. My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here.  Also found on my ao3 here.  

–

“I know how much you’ve wanted this, Rhys.”

He didn’t want it, though. Maybe that was the whole point. And maybe Vasquez knew that, too.

The blackmail he had over Rhys could destroy him. And it’s what currently had him bound by the wrists over the bigger man’s wide desk in Hyperion-made tech with his pants around his ankles. He couldn’t back out even if he wanted to; both from the manacles and fear of a fate far worse than letting Vasquez do whatever he wanted to him.

“Y’know, men like us shouldn’t have to put up a front for what they want,” he continued on, not at all perturbed by Rhys’ silence or red-faced glares, and why should he be? He was fully clothed after all and not bent over a desk, after all. “You gotta just reach out and take it without shame. That’s what power really is, Rhys. I can appreciate the theater of it, of course; all bark and no bite,” Vasquez said as he stroked down Rhys’ lower back to caress the bare cheeks of his ass. “Never took you for the dramatic type. Though, I’ve gotta say, you’ve got bigger balls than I thought.”

Figuratively, of course, though it was courage bought from fear that had him bent over against his will. Rhys would never be here and never offering up his ass to his hated rival if not for the very real threat of a live-flaying. This was hardly about sex and everything about power. And Vasquez knew that, of course; peppering in reminders of why Rhys was here in case he thought to give Vasquez trouble.

“…Or is it just the circumstances that made you brave? Either way, I win.”

Rhys didn’t answer, and he was pretty sure the other man didn’t expect a response, either.

It didn’t stop him from bringing his hand down on Rhys’ ass, though, wrenching out a surprised yelp that echoed in the large office and brought further shame-red to Rhys’ face. Vasquez did it again, harder this time, that damn golden pinky cutting through the sting of the smack to almost make Rhys jump at the firmer pain as he bit his lip to stay quiet.

His legs he could’ve closed but for the foot Vasquez kicked them apart with, but he couldn’t move much more than that, prone over the desk with Vasquez’ other hand lazily pushing him down. The restraints were well-made by the company after all, and the hard steel didn’t even protest against Rhys’ cybernetic arm as he tried to curl in on himself even the smallest bit. He wondered if this would actually be worth his life, and if just the once would do it. Vasquez had implied that this was his price, after all, but there were no explicitly-stated terms between them; just the threat that the bearded man’s silence came at a high-price, and right now, that price would be paid or else.

“You’re being rude,” Vasquez’ deep voice almost sounded pouty, the hand coming to rest gently above one of Rhys’ asscheeks not lulling the bound man in the slightest. “It’s almost like you don’t want to be here…”

Rhys snorted and turned his head what little he could manage. It was enough to catch the smirk on Vasquez’s face, and the glint in his eye that said he thought he was far better than Rhys even now. Though Rhys was full of shame at the corporate secrets he’d passed along, he still had personal pride, and he was ready with a sarcastic response. “Shouldn’t you be used to this? I’m pretty sure this is the only way you ever get laid.”

Vasquez huffed, the pout on his face turning into a thinking frown. He glared down at the other man, but that confident gleam to his eye remained. “Well, if you don’t like it, Rhys, I can let Handsome Jack know he’s got a spy in his midst…” He chuckled at the genuinely-terrified gasp that Rhys let loose, and the easy smirk on Vasquez’ face came back. “How do you think Handsome Jack would feel to know his personal assistant has been feeding Maliwan information, hmmmm? I’m pretty sure that would be professional suicide. Or at least, that’s how they make it look. Or so I’ve heard.”

Rhys’ whole body went tense at the reminder of how much Vasquez actually knew. The files he’d accidentally sent to an incorrect echo frequency were enough by themselves for him to be airlocked. That the files had been intercepted by Maliwan, however, was a guaranteed painful death if Jack ever found out.

Yeah, Jack liked him as far as bosses liked their personal assistants, but the information had ultimately resulted in a lost negotiation for Hyperion– a direct correlation, Rhys knew, as Maliwan had contacted him to mockingly thank him for the heads’ up on what was to come, and expected continued insights if he didn’t want their CEO getting wind of it.

Jack was still irked by it, enough to mention it even months later, whenever the rival company came up in conversation. Maliwan’s price hadn’t been too steep, actually. Rhys was good with numbers and chose his losses carefully, and so far his paltry offerings of tidbits of information here and there had kept a sort of stalemate going for a miniscule advantage. He hadn’t wanted to get drawn in deeper, but by now he’d handed over multiple pieces of information and had no idea how to get himself out of this mess.

That it had to be Vasquez of all people who picked up on the fact only added insult to injury. Small mining deals he knew he could reassign Jack’s soldiers to enforce for him shouldn’t have taken much notice. And sending a few ‘bonus’ products in trade deals with weapons not yet released to the public gave Malian a heads-up, perhaps, but truly didn’t impact Hyperion’s bottom line. It was little, potentially-harmless things like that that he’d hoped no one would notice, but somehow, Vasquez had.

Rhys had been controlling the situation the best he could, and was managing a happy stalemate while he still tried to figure out his exit-strategy and hide what he’d been doing from Jack.

Vasquez though… As much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, Vasquez was not someone he could control. Not since he’d beaten the other man out of the very position he now held as Jack’s right hand man; something Vasquez had taken as a mortal offense and personal theft. After all, Jack was the most powerful man in the universe. It was a power that extended to those who worked directly under Jack, making them normally untouchable out of a fearful respect for the CEO.

And it was a power that Rhys was terrified of being turned against him. Maybe he hadn’t been thinking straight when he agreed to this little ‘meeting’, but the bluntly-stated proposition that Vasquez wanted Rhys crying on the end of his cock– or he could cry from the torture Jack would subject him to- had Rhys indignantly dropping his pants and leaning over the desk with as much furious poise as he could muster.

Vasquez demanded he submit to being bound for this exercise in humility; he knew what Hyperion cybernetics were capable of, and he wasn’t going to allow Rhys to fight him on this matter when he was balls-deep inside of him. Rhys would take exactly what Vasquez would give him until he was totally satisfied that Handsome Jack wouldn’t be needing any anonymous info packets the following morning.

“You know, Rhys, I’ve always been fond of your voice, but this office isn’t entirely sound-proof, I’m sure. Do you think you can keep quiet for me? Wouldn’t want anyone walking around at this hour to know why you’re here, would you?”

Rhys refused to dignify that with a response, his whole body tensed while he kept telling himself– begging himself- to relax. For his own good.

Vasquez ironically huffed at being ignored, and his hand came down across Rhys’ ass again, hard, and Rhys’ legs kicked out on reflex. He caught Vasquez across a shin as the bigger man cursed and stepped back, rubbing the area and muttering in pain.

The quick steps towards him told Rhys that Vasquez wouldn’t take that for the accident it was, and he backhanded him across the face. It made Rhys bite his own lip, his tongue immediately searching out the sting to soothe it. He tasted copper and tried to focus on that; remind himself that the alternative to this was being tortured before his body eventually gave out. This was nothing to being experimented on by R&D. Being a traitor was almost worse than embezzling from Handsome Jack himself; he could endure this to save himself from that.

“I was gonna go easy on you at first,” the bigger man said as he grabbed a handful of Rhys’ hair to look at him properly. They glared at one another with open hate. “Regardless of what you might think, I’m actually a considerate lover. But I Get the feeling you wouldn’t much appreciate that, would you?”

“Fuck you,” Rhys muttered pathetically, embarrassed at the strength of his own voice; the helplessness he was definitely feeling in both situation and action.

“That’s the whole point, but still, rude.” Vasquez dropped his hold on Rhys’ hair unexpectedly and Rhys dropped a bit faster than he’d have liked back to the cold of the desk. Vasquez’ hand found its way back to his lower back, and he kicked Rhys’ legs aside again so they were spread enough that he wouldn’t get inadvertently kicked.

Though he was still fully clothed, Vasquez grabbed the smaller man by his naked hips and ground himself against his ass, and Rhys valiantly stayed absolutely silent, not making a nose to the cloth erection being ground against him. Vasquez groaned appreciatively and cocked his head to try and look at Rhys’ face during this particular humiliation. “You know, I’m less inclined to share your secrets if you act a little more enthusiastic, Rhys.”

Rhys felt a lump form in his throat at the combination of fear and the indignity of what Vasquez wanted. As if being fucked by him wasn’t already bad enough, he wanted Rhys to show appreciation for being dry-humped? Rhys wasn’t sure he could pretend that, and he realized as his cybernetic arm tugged in vain on the metal holding his wrists to the desk, that it must’ve been a reinforced alloy of some kind and not steel. He was truly and utterly at Vasquez’ mercy, and furthermore, he had no guarantee that Vasquez wouldn’t just leave him here to go and report him even after he was done.

There were some muted sounds from outside the office doors as Vasquez was really working himself up against dry-humping Rhys’ ass, followed by a kick that was loud enough not to just be passing janitors. Vasquez was mid-stride to see what the hell that was when the locking mechanism was shot out, electric-sizzling and the smell of ozone in the air before the security system was totally disabled, and in strode Rhys’ savior and terror all wrapped up into one gun-toting CEO.

Rhys laid prone where he was, not moving and knowing any attempt at hiding himself was entirely in vain. Vasquez stood where he was halfway between the office doors and the desk, hard-on still protruding from the front of the pants he wore. Jack took one quick sweep of the situation he’d just walked into, lingering on Rhys’ terrified face a moment, and twirled his gun in his hand playfully.

“I have been calling and calling my hot little PA’s number for over an hour now and I just had to track down his comm and see what was so goddamn important he’d ignore me over. And I really gotta say– what’s happening here?- Not super impressed right now.”

“S-sir I can explain… Rhys-” Vasquez started expectantly, looking down at the half-clothed man forcibly bound to his desk with slapped-red asscheeks and his chin stained with a fine line of crimson from his bitten lip.

Rhys knew an opportunity when he saw it, and didn’t speak or come to Vasquez’ defense. Instead, he locked eyes with Jack– very aware of his own defeated body language- and the look in the CEO’s eyes made his heart speed up all the more. He looked away quickly, biting his lip and wincing as the movement made the cut there bleed anew.

Whatever Jack saw in Rhys’ own eyes had worked, because as Vasquez’ stuttered denials turned into pleading and bare accusations, there was a second shot of Jack’s gun, and a shocked inhalation followed by a muted thud some steps away from the desk where the bearded man had tried to quickly flee.

Jack whistled lowly, moving towards Vasquez as the man was in the throes of death, and quickly searched his pockets until he found what he was looking for. He left the still body as he approached the desk once more, and Rhys was still laying there, silent, barely registering the fact that Jack was uncharacteristically silent as well, and he was still strapped down.

Did Jack already know? Was this a coincidence? …were the dirty fantasies on the echonet fanboards actually true?

No, this wasn’t some fantasy. Jack had just killed Rhys’ longtime rival, and he himself had committed base corporate treason and was strapped down half naked at the mercy of the most powerful man in the universe. Any arousal he had at the idea was suddenly drowned in anxious fear.

Rhys felt his heart pounding in multiple areas; the side of his neck that Jack could break so easily; against the desk from within his chest that a bullet could easily pierce.

The rush of blood in his ears, and his vision going in and out, completely distracted from the older man’s approach, and only the smell of the gun discharge in his nostrils finally drew Rhys back enough to his senses to realize that Vasquez was most certainly dead on the floor, and he could very well be next.

Rhys turned his head dumbly towards Jack, dazed and confused and frozen with fear. The frown on Jack’s face wasn’t indicative of anything good. Rhys feared for his life.

“Y’know,” Jack said as he reached into his pocket and leaned against the desk, shooting Rhys’ ass a pointed look the younger man could see, “I’ve had an awful lot of fantasies that have started this way…”

Rhys found his voice, licking his split lip with a wince. “Jack I–” He was struck mute as the restraints binding him clicked with a mechanical whirr, and everything recessed back into the desk without a trace. Jack tossed the unlock mechanism back towards Vasquez’ body but otherwise stayed leaning on the desk right next to Rhys.

Rhys rose up just a little– slowly, as if to test how free he really was- and exhaled shakily as he curled his palms into fists, fighting his renewed fear of the man at his side. Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire. Just because he’d been freed from Vasquez did not mean he was safe. He was scared to lift himself further, but slowly, slowly stood.

“Buttercup… Not that I don’t think it’s kinky as fuck, but just what the hell do you mean by bending over for that asshole? Ever? I mean, I’m all about hate-sex, but Wallethead himself?”

Rhys could feel his heartbeat pick right back up into a terrified tatoo against his ribs. Could it be possible Jack didn’t know the things he’d done? Was there a way out of this? Jack didn’t suffer traitors easily. He’d seen people dropped down the hatch in Jack’s office for way less.

“Hey…” Jack’s voice turned serious. “Rhysie… Talk to me here, baby.”

If he could just play it cool long enough to get his ass off this space station, maybe he could disappear somewhere… Somewhere beyond the reach of the companies. Though that idea was hardly realistic, unless–

“Fuck. Hey, you freakin’ out in there or what?”

–he could fake his own death? He was good at programming… if he survived this encounter here, then maybe hacking security footage and using an O2 mask–

“Rhys.” Jack’s hands found their way to his shoulders, and Rhys’ eyes finally snapped to his own, widening a bit as if he just remembered where he was, who he was with, and that his pants were still around his ankles. Jack cupped the younger man’s cheek in his hand, stroking with his thumb as he studied the pallor on his face. He gave Rhys’ shoulder a reassuring squeeze with his other hand. “It’s okay, pumpkin. I was just teasing. What the hell did he do to you? I thought I got here in time but maybe I killed him too quickly now,” Jack said with a disappointed look at the still-warm body.

“I-I’m alright,” Rhys stuttered, lifting a shaking hand to Jack’s wrist and holding it there. He couldn’t help it; even terrified of what might be his last few moments, he still wanted Jack; craved the comfort he was offering. Rhys genuinely liked Jack, and they usually got along so well, too. Jack often complained after meetings that Rhys was the only one on this space station he could stand. It was only going to cut that much deeper when Jack found out.

It’s not like it was his choice to betray Hyperion, but he knew the CEO well enough by now to know it didn’t matter. But he wanted what few moments of comfort were given before the final shoe dropped, and relished in the warmth of Jack’s thumb stroking his cheek. “I’m okay.”

Jack huffed a little, lips twitching into an uncertain smile. “How’d he ever get you here, kiddo?” the older man asked with real concern, his question obviously referring to being trapped against a desk. “Why didn’t you call me on your echoeye? …that wasn’t consensual right, Rhysie?”

“He was blackmailing me,” Rhys stated simply, an answer to all Jack’s questions.

“Yeah, yeah I gathered that when he was calling you a traitor moments before I blew his brains out.” Rhys wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Jack correctly guessed the source of his distress. “This about that Maliwan shit, ain’t it, princess? Unless your sordid little life is more interesting than I ever thought.”

Rhys’ jaw dropped and all the blood fled his face. “How did you–”

“First of all, I’m all-knowing,” Jack bragged with a haughty smirk. “And second– you sent those messages from my desk that day, remember? When I took a nap on the couch?”

Rhys would remember that day for the rest of his life as it had ultimately gotten him in the exact situation he was in right now. It had been a Friday, and Jack had taken apart Rhys’ monitor as it kept having compatibility issues with his echoeye and the personal patches Jack had done to help him be more efficient.

Jack had had Rhys do his work from his desk while he customized the younger man’s workspace to better suit him, and Rhys had handled multiple communications that day. It had been in a moment of distraction at a lame ‘data-size’ joke Jack had made that Rhys had sent the detailed plans to the incorrect address, and had only noticed it the next day because that address had contacted him and told him exactly what he’d done and what he’d continue doing to buy their silence.

“We got lunch that day, remember? I sent you home early and I didn’t go back to the office until Monday morning. You left your mail open at my desk, buttercup. I’ve known what’s going on the whole time. You’ve been handling it like a pro, so I’ve only been keeping an eye on things from a distance.”

Rhys was close to hyperventilating, but Jack still stood there as nonchalant as he had, as Rhys tried to meet his eyes. “A-Are you going to kill me?”

“Hey, I saved you, if you don’t recall,” Jack grumbled with a dismissive look at the still-warm body. “Why would I kill you? For fucking that asshole? I mean, I won’t lie, I am jealous as hell, but talk about unne–”

“I never slept with Vasquez….” Rhys trailed off weakly, realizing how stupid he felt saying so as he was still standing there with his whole dick and balls out for anyone to see; though he didn’t want to draw further attention to that fact by pulling his pants back up. It wasn’t like Jack was looking anyways, though that might’ve been because the CEO was preoccupied with the obviously-spooked expression on the younger man’s face, and giving his shoulders reassuring squeezes.

Rhys looked up a moment from his pondering as his brain suddenly processed the fact that Jack said he was jealous over the idea of Vasquez fucking him…. Even with the idea Rhys thought he’d been selling Hyperion out.

The look Jack was giving him was somewhere between the pout the older man liked to pull when asking Rhys to cancel meetings for him, and the playful smirk he usually reserved for poking fun. He clearly wasn’t teasing right now with the way he occupied Rhys’ space. Rhys dumbly repeated his denial of involvement with Vasquez, any other words currently escaping him.

“Then what’s the problem?” Jack’s hands were gentle on him, but Rhys knew what the older man was capable of. Jack’s eyes kept jumping all about him, as if he could see what was making Rhys so cagey if he only looked hard enough.

“I don’t understand… Not that– Don’t take that to mean I want to die,” Rhys quickly got out, afraid to accept that he was possibly going to get out of this alive. “But why aren’t you, like, shooting me? You bring up that deal we lost all the time…”

“Seriously, kiddo? One, I’m brilliant, and that would be a huge waste. And yeah, I like to win so I’m still annoyed at those assholes thinking they won that time, but you’ve given me an opportunity I haven’t gotten anyone to pull in a long time.”

Rhys looked at him blankly, and Jack just smirked and gave him a gentle pat. “You’ve got those idiots to trust you. They think they’ve got you by the balls. Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you cherry-pick what intel to give them.” Jack grinned as if all the information and access Rhys had been giving to business rivals was somehow a good thing. The CEO rolled his eyes as Rhys clearly wasn’t getting it; as if anything about this conversation was normal. “What I’m saying here, princess, is that they know your information’s been good, and they know you haven’t compromised them by telling me. Otherwise ‘Big Bad Handsome Jack’ would have blown you out an airlock already.”

Rhys was still confused how any of this was good news, but Jack still didn’t seem upset with him. If anything, he seemed pleased. Rhys really wanted to pull his pants back up right now, but he didn’t want to break the spell of whatever this benevolent mood was.

He also didn’t want to have Jack let go of him to make such a movement, drawing strength from the hands on his shoulders.

“What I’m sayin’ is, you’ve opened up the perfect opportunity to sabotage them from the inside. Once I’m ready to give the word, we’re going to feed them bad intel and really take ‘em apart. Hoooo that almost gives me a stiffy, I can’t wait for those dickbags to realize what we did.” Jack chuckled to himself with a grin for the younger man.

“You’re… really okay with all of that?” Rhys asked seriously, watching Jack with a hanging hope as the older man smiled at him.

“Not only okay with it, but I want you to keep it up. If you have trouble deciding what info you wanna give those losers, we’ll make something up, okay? I’ve got enough money lying around to throw those idiots a bone if they still think you’re working for them. It’s an investment I’ll collect on when the iron is hot, or however that shit goes.”

It was strike when the iron is hot, Rhys knew, but didn’t want to give Jack any ideas about striking anything while he was still pantsless. “I seriously cannot believe you’re okay with this,” Rhys muttered with something of relieved shock. “The last person who sold company secrets got sent down to R&D, and they still haven’t come back.”

“Yeah, put ‘em in the hybrid breeding program or something, I don’t know. Anyways, pumpkin, even if that wasn’t the case, I still wouldn’t kill you. You are way too damn cute and that would put a huge damper in my chances of someday getting laid,” Jack said with a half-joking tone, though the look in his eyes smoldered a bit as he smiled in implication.

Rhys couldn’t believe things were going completely his way. Jack wanted to… to fuck him? Even after all of this? Jack found him attractive? Like, yeah, he wanted Jack, but who on Helios didn’t? That Jack was genuinely interested… Well.

“I’m just… I am so relieved you found out, actually,” Rhys laughed a little, unhinged at just how perfect everything had gone. His rival was dead, his attractive boss didn’t want to kill him, and apparently, all his jerk-off fantasies were going to come true if Jack was to be believed.

“What, kitten? You think I don’t keep regular tabs on anyone close to me?” Jack purred dangerously into his ear. “What’s that saying? ‘Keep your friends close but hop into bed with your enemies’?”

That made Rhys’ heart give a little fearful lurch, but he couldn’t help the snort it got out of him, either, as he decided he believed the older man. “I don’t think that’s the phrase, Jack,” he said softly with a little smile growing on his face as Jack grinned shamelessly. “And I’m hardly your enemy.”

“Hardly, huh?” the older man teased as he somewhat crowded against him in correctly reading the signals. “Heh, get it Rhysie? ‘Cuz your pants are down, and it’s making me hard.”

It had to be one of the stupidest things to have ever gotten a laugh out of Rhys, but he could blame that on the adrenaline still running through him, and the sheer relief that he wasn’t about to be murdered.

“There’s my little princess,” Jack said with a grin, boxing him in with hands on either side of the desk. Rhys was still chuckling, cheeks red, as Jack wasn’t through. “Or maybe I shouldn’t say little anymore, hm? …Grower, not a show-er, sweetheart? This guy finally getting in the game? What did it? The talk of screwing over Maliwan, or the part where Jack got to play the big hero?” he teased.

“It’s adrenaline,” Rhys discounted quickly with a smile, though he supposed Jack about had it right; who in their right mind would get a boner for their boss when moments before he thought said man would murder him? Let alone get aroused with a body in the room? He wasn’t even ashamed of it to be honest. Chalk it up to the thrill of still being alive. “And my dick size is– Why are we talking about that right now?” Rhys genuinely laughed, about ready to reach down and pull his pants over the semi he had going anyways, but loathe to break the proximity of Jack’s nearness.

Warm puffs of breath went over Rhys as Jack lightly chuckled and moved in just a tad closer; either teasing or testing, Rhys wasn’t sure, but the hand the younger man wrapped about the outside of Jack’s shoulder gave an encouraging squeeze, and Jack’s smile widened.

“You’ve got two choices here, buttercup,” the older man said with a smirk that did nothing to quell the plumping of Rhys’ cock, “And I’ll respect whatever you choose. We can cover that up,” he said with a quick glance down between them so Rhys knew his meaning, “cover that up,” he said with another look in the direction of Vasquez’ useless shell, “and you can go back to being the best damn PA I’ve had in a long, long line of unprofessional idiots, and I won’t press it any further, or,” Jack said with an edge of uncertainty Rhys wouldn’t have caught if he didn’t know the older man so well, “you can let me show you just how irreplaceable you are on a less than professional level, and how very much I don’t wanna kill ya. Whaddya say?”

Rhys’ heart rate picked right back up from where it had been finally calming, but this time he wasn’t afraid. The exact opposite, actually. “You mean–”

“I guess I did cockblock you, right?” Jack joked with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Technically, I mean,” he mocked a little, then smirked, emboldened by the squeeze Rhys’ hand gave his arm. “And here you are all… pantless with no dick-being-sucked. It’s a travesty is what I’m saying, kitten; dicks being out, left un-sucked. It’s un-Hyperion. Goes against everything my brand stands for.”

Rhys couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him, and it was a small movement to lean the top of his head on Jack’s shoulder, shaking with laughter and relief and holding tight to the older man to try to reign it in. Jack himself couldn’t have been more delighted by that, and Rhys could feel the smile against his skin as Jack turned and spoke, lips just barely kissing his jaw.

“Whaddya say, pumpkin? How would you like a little executive treatment, hmm?”

Jack’s lips pressed chastely against Rhys’ jaw as the younger man pressed into the gesture, and Rhys stood back up to smile, allowing Jack to take his chin in his hand and press their lips together. The action stung where he’d bit himself, and Jack licked his own lips as he pulled away, wrapping both large hands around Rhys’ hips and smirking expectantly.

“…Please?” Rhys asked, wanting the comfort, the ironic safety the older man represented, and everything else he had to offer.

Though he’d alluded to it already, Jack still surprised him by dropping to his knees in front of Rhys, hands on the younger man’s thighs as he came face to face with his cock, and wasted no time getting himself quite acquainted.

Rhys was learning a lot about himself today. Namely, that he probably wasn’t as good a person as he thought he was if he was able to get fully hard and enjoy one hell of a blowjob with a body in the room, but also that he’d been willing to go a great distance to protect his own interests– which he was a little proud of- and that his little crush on Jack, along with his hero-worship of the man, was definitely not going to change any time soon… even when potentially fearing for his life.

None of that mattered right now though, because as great and as varied the skills that Jack was rumored to have were, it didn’t prepare Rhys for the reality of the CEO on his knees completely taking him apart with his mouth alone.

That was okay though. He had a feeling that Jack was going to be there to put him back together again, too.

–

kofi | ao3

[somethinglacking]

Shooting For Stars: Chapter 1

Summary: 

Hyuna Lee just started college, and while procrastinating decided to give a popular MMO called LOLOL a try. Here she will meet new friends, battle monsters, part takes in epic quests, and potentially find love!

Most of this will take place in LOLOL at the beginning.

This takes place a year/ year and a half after Seven's good end, and the secret endings. Yoosung x OC

**Update's once a week**

Smut in later chapters, of course ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ Hyuna groaned as she sat staring at her computer. Her assignment was to draw something that inspires you, some sort of introductory assignment for the Professor to get to know her small class of Art Student Misfits. Nothing seemed to inspire her as of late, and no matter what she did manage to sketch out onto screen seemed to call her out: The Un-Inspired Art Student with no muse or motivation. Her fingers ran the length of her caramel brown locks, and her nails lightly scratched her scalp trying to ease her growing frustrations. Hazel glared at the taunting screen before her, daring it to keep on challenging her. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the artist sighed in defeat. Nothing was coming to her, and the lines she had managed to get down didn’t seem to be coming together as anything. Annoyed with herself and lack of a muse, she set her tablet to the side and opened her social media. Not much was going on, and she didn’t really have any friends anymore. Her sister posted a photo of her and her little class of second graders. They were cute and her sister looked happy. Smiling at the photo she offered it a thumbs up. 

When she was done scrolling her newsfeed she opened boogle. Bored she searched for fun things to do on the internet. The search results varied in interest, but an ad on the web page she was on showed a popular MMO and a free trial. Curious she clicked it and went to the homepage of the game. She read of the spec’s and nodded noting it would work on her pc. She clicked the download icon and downloaded it. 

Hazel eyes read every bit of detail the game had to offer her as it booted up the character creator. Feeling a little nervous, having never played an MMO before and unsure if she’d actually like being in contact with actual people. Logically she knew she could just play solo and ignore the events, or even delete her entire account after the free trial ran out and simply say she tried it. Biting a plump bottom lip she was greeted with page after several final updates. 

First, she selected her gender debating on being a boy, but ultimately settled for female solely because she knew their armor would be cuter the further she got into the game. She clicked through the races and settled on an elf. She smiled customizing the hairstyle and making the hair a lovely hue of blue. The eyes matched her avatar's hair. Hyuna chooses the least appalling beginner to wear praying she would be able to get something that wasn’t such an eyesore to wear easily. Overall the artist was pleased with the look of her new online persona and moved onto the next page.

Here she had to choose a username. Chewing on her lip she knew she go to Sapphire would be already taken in such a massive game, but gave it a go anyway. Slightly disappointed when it was already taken she contemplated what to use. She typed in several weird spelling of the name before Sapfyre worked. Making a surprised and pleased noise, she made haste to click the arrow button that would take her into the game. 

The screen loaded and she took her time going through the tutorial and getting the hang of the world, and command functions. Hyuna watched as her pretty avatar moved about doing little missions and basically busy work with prompt boxes explaining the gameplay.

 Soon enough she had completed her ‘training’ and was warped to a busy square full of other players. Hyuna blushed feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number of avatars on the screen. She had picked one of the busier servers, but she hadn’t imagined it’d be this popular. Chewing her lip she ran around getting used to the shops and how the currency worked. Hazel eyes scanned the screen and took notice of where the world chat was, besides it was a little icon that lights up red with a little 1 beside it. Curious she clicked it and noticed it was the private messaging system. 

SupermanYoosung★: Hey you look lost ^^ SupermanYoosung★: You must be new! SupermanYoosung★: If you want help doing some quest or anything let me know. Hyuna tapped the pads of her fingers against her lips reading the message over and over again honestly wanting to take them up on their offer. Yet, she also felt rather shy about it too, it was strange. It wasn’t like it was a real interaction with someone, just two gamer bros going on a digital epic quest, so to speak. That being said, the artist wasn’t really a people person. Taking a moment to think about the other player's offer she opened the tab at the top that showed the servers rankings and who was online at the moment. Hazel went wide as she stared at the first couple name’s noticing the friendly strangers rank. They where rank number 2, basically LOLOL royalty. Hyuna let out a girlish giggle in disbelief. She clicked back onto her private messages and re-read the person’s name. It was for sure rank #2 SupermanYoosung. Before her brain could catch up to her fingers the typed with speed across her keyboard. 

Sapfyre: Oh wow! Sapfyre: I just check up on you, and it says your rank #2 ^^; Sapfyre: You must have better things to do than help a little noob like myself!

Before she knew it an impressive tank build avatar ran towards her. Hyuna bumped her forehead lightly with her fist watching as he positioned himself next to her Hobo of an Elf avatar. What a contrast that was to behold. However, if he did have time to waste with her, she almost wanted to beg him to help her get something more suitable for her avatar to wear. Something less beggar and painstakingly noob. 

SupermanYoosung★: Hahaha Yup! That’s me, I’m pretty awesome, huh? 

Hyuna couldn’t help but roll her eyes as a smile played at the edge of her mouth.

SupermanYoosung★: I’m also pretty free at the moment. I have no issue bussing you through some dungeons and helping you get some decent equipment.  SupermanYoosung★: Plus once you get passed level 20 you can join guilds! SupermanYoosung★: If you want, I can invite you to mine, haha!

This person seemed pretty nice and welcoming, Hyuna mused smiling to herself. She didn’t want to get his hopes up, nonetheless. Still unsure if she wanted to pay for the month to month subscription, or would even bother logging in again once she decided she had procrastinated enough for the evening and got back to her assignment. Best to play it coy. 

Sapfyre: Well alright then!  Sapfyre: Lolol can you add me to the party, I have absolutely no idea what I am doing  SupermanYoosung★: Oh! Sure thing!

The notification of a party invitation popped up. Hyuna clicked it and accepted. Soon there was an Icon over the two opposing in style avatars linking them together. 

Sapfyre: Wow they really go out and show you who you're with, huh? Sapfyre: We should get out of the public eye, haha… Someone like you hanging out with a LOLOL hobo can’t be good for the reputation! ^^ SupermanYoosung★: lol naw, it’s fine, I’m buying potions. I’ve got a feeling you’re gonna need them at the start ^^ SupermanYoosung★: I know just the Dungeon that shares exp! It’s pretty high rank, but I can handle the monsters myself. You can just sit back and enjoy the show! Cheer for me too! Sapfyre: I might be a noob, but I do freelance as a cheerleader on the side Sapfyre: It’s not much, but it’s honest work~ Sapfyre: Go! Yoosung! GO!  SupermanYoosung★: Haha! I didn’t expect you to actually cheer for me >_< SupermanYoosung★: Now I definitely have to help you get to at least level 20!

Hyuna’s character automatically followed the party leader’s avatar about the busy town square. There was an option to turn it off, but she didn’t feel like it. It was fun watching the two of them run around side by side as this Yoosung got the supplies she would most likely need to brave the dungeon. The artist clicked on her avatar and gasped in surprise. 

Sapfyre: There are little social action commands! Sapfyre: Ooooh~ 

She made her Elf do a little tribal type dance around Yoosung. She giggled as he made his brolly tank dance with her in the middle of the square. That was cute! 

SupermanYoosung★: Hahaha >_< SupermanYoosung★: They do! And some of the actions are special to race, gender, and class. SupermanYoosung★: Oh! You get to pick a class at level 10 SupermanYoosung★: Any ideas on a build you want to make? Sapfyre: Thank you for the dance Monsieur~ Sapfyre: I dunno what build to make??? Sapfyre: I guess I want something ranged so I can hang back. 

A box popped up on the screen declaring that SupermanYoosung would like to item share with her. Hyuna clicked yes and his inventory opened along with her own. She flushed when she saw all the cool things he was carrying and how she only held a level 2 stick from one of her tutorial missions at the beginning. She watched as Yoosung threw 99 potions, and 99 mana restore potions at her along with a level 2 wooden helm. She giggled equipping it to her Elf. 

Sapfyre: Now my look is finally complete. What a sexy helm! SupermanYoosung★: lololol, sooo sexy~ SupermanYoosung★: Back on the topic of builds SupermanYoosung★: Ever consider being a support healer? SupermanYoosung★: It’s sooo hard to find a decent one D:

Sapfyre: I dunno if I’d make a good support ^^; Sapfyre: If they are hard to find there must be a reason right?

SupermanYoosung★: They just don’t know how to build themselves, and/or try to fight when the tanks have the situation covered and die, SupermanYoosung★: I never built a healer before, but I do know a few things. I could help you if you want?

Sapfyre: Welllllllll Sapfyre: Sure why not~~! Sapfyre: Since you’re helping me out so much already, I don’t mind trying to be a healer for you.

SupermanYoosung★: Thank you! SupermanYoosung★: Rest of the guild will be so jealous when I show off my own personal little healer~ haha~

Sapfyre: >_< lololol I’m shy~

Hyuna bit her lip re-reading the messages. It almost felt like this guy or girl or whatever they are was flirting with her. They couldn’t possibly know she was a girl. She assumed many male players would make a female avatar, let's be honest, the higher rank armor leaves little to the imagination. She wrote off the interaction as this Yoosung being friendly and excited to help her create a healer support he seemed to need desperately. 

SupermanYoosung★: Haha that’s okay! SupermanYoosung★: Do you have a headset, it’s easier to chat that way while in dungeons.

The artist flushed again at the thought of letting a stranger hear her voice. She could see why it would be more convenient. Seeing as she had never played an online game, and preferred solo JRPG’s or Horror survival-

Sapfyre: I never required a headset before

SupermanYoosung★: It’s okay, it just means we are gonna crawl dungeons a bit slower since we’ll have to type to one another. 

Sapfyre: ^^; I’ll look into investing in one in the future. Sapfyre: I’m on a college student allowance, it’ll have to be a cheap one.

SupermanYoosung★: Haha, I’m a student too. I get what you mean. SupermanYoosung★: No shame in having an off-brand HS since you’re just starting SupermanYoosung★: I’m gonna teleport us to a level 30 dungeon. Keep your guard up

Sapfyre: Sure thing ^^

They were off, the screen turned into a load for a moment before both of them spawned in a dungeon. The artist smiled as she watched the other player navigate the surrounding area. She was careful to fall back when zombie looking monstered spawned and swarmed them. All level 30, which made sense, Yoosung had stated it was a high-rank dungeon. Turns out level grind was a bit of a grind, even for beginners. Luckily it was a shared exp dungeon and since there were only two of them in the party it got split in half. Slowly where minimal communication since she lacked a headset they crawled through the Dungeon. Yoosung was kind enough to allow her to loot the corpses and the treasure chests. 

They had even run into some other players who would say hello to Yoosung via the world chat. They had custom speech bubbles, and Hyuna was interested in obtaining some of her own. It was impressive how immersive this game was. You could build sperate skills like smithing, mining, fishing, cooking, act. It was super customizable. Yoosung had rattled off about how there was an event boss just recently and the cool stuff he got for himself. Hyuna smiled, sometimes even giggling to herself as she read Yoosung’s messages. 

Even though she had gotten some pretty decent armor and weapon’s they couldn’t be equipped before she was level 30. It was probably a power scale to disallow players to equip armor so far above themselves early. Yoosung assured her in a few sessions he would have her beefed up and ready to stand on her own in no time. Hyuna despite herself agreed to meet up tomorrow evening and found herself genuinely enjoying the game. Maybe she was just enjoying Yoosung’s company, who knew. 

Once they finished the dungeon, Yoosung warped them back into the town square and sent her a friend request. Hyuna didn’t even think twice as she accepted it. 

SupermanYoosung★: This way we will get notifications when either of us logs on, and it even shows where we are on the map.  SupermanYoosung★: I’m gonna be on a little while longer, you good?

Hyuna looked at the clock and gasped blinking, unbelieving what she was thinking. Had she really wasted three hours? Was it really 1 am?

Sapfyre: OMFG!!!! It’s 1 am!!! I have an assignment due tomorrow morning! SupermanYoosung★: It’s 1 am for me too, we must be pretty close. Lolol SupermanYoosung★: You should go get the project done SupermanYoosung★: Guess I’ll see you tomorrow~ ^^

Sapfyre: Ya tomorrow! I’ll be off! Sapfyre: Enjoy ruling the online virtual world!

With that Hyuna was quick to log off and sighed to herself. It had only meant to be an hour break, and somehow she got so caught up in it she was looking at either failing her first assignment or not sleeping. Looking at the clock she grabbed her a tablet and the pen and looked at whatever these lines she had drawn were suppose to be. Deciding to delete all the progress she had apparently made, she settled herself in for a long night of drawing her assignment for her 8 am class. 

[lilredgummie]

BOTW RANT-ISH INCOMING

Okay okay..since the botw 2 sequel trailer, I’ve been thinking of something..

Nintendo, for breath of the wild, decided to give a reason behind Link’s silence for the first time. (Correct me if I’m wrong) saying that he felt the weight of hyrule on his shoulders and felt like he couldn’t put his say in anything and bear the huge responsibilities if I’m remembering correctly.

So we see why the hero is mostly blank and silent in the flashbacks with Zelda and the Champions.

But yet..they continued this blank slate even through the cutscenes that took place in present time. I know that Nintendo said that they really wanted to emphasize the “a link to the players” shit more so than ever this time around.

But in my opinion..I feel like if that was going to be the case..then maybe they shouldn’t of acknowledged Link’s silence and actually given it a reason.

They said before that his memory loss indeed did affect his personality afterwards. (I believe this was in the master works) that he was back to being more expressive and talkative since now no one knows he’s here or something of that sort.

Though..we still see him being silent in the present day cutscenes anyways? Again, I know that Nintendo was just really focused on him being a blank slate for the player but..that’s why I’m saying they shouldn’t of told us why he became silent, and shouldn’t of told us that he wasn’t completely that way anymore after the memory loss..cause then it makes you wonder why he looked blanked with Tiba or Sidon, etc. (I’m talking cutscenes, not small things like him happily cooking or smiling and waving hello to people. It’s just so much inconsistency.)

They shouldn’t of drawn attention to his silence.

Do I think the “knight who became silent because of all of eyes on him” is a good plot? Yeah I do, I actually really like that. I like knowing he was able to open up and trust Zelda too. But it just frustrates me to know that they kept that going in the present day cutscenes when that’s now incorrect with the information that Nintendo themselves gave us. They shouldn’t of even said anything, lol.

So what am I getting to when it comes to the sequel?

Well..Nintendo likes to keep things up to the player, right? Even when it comes to love interests in the Zelda games.

Though in my opinion, I feel like they do obviously favor zelink. Giving them more content from other options. Of course there are going to be people out there that will disagree and always deny it and hey..that’s completely fine. You do you. Have fun.

But I’m not just saying this because I am a zelink shipper..I’m saying this because I personally like to follow ships that get the most obvious attention. So I pay attention to what truly is written there and shown to me in front of my eyes. So I will see and admit to when Link and Zelda are not given attention, and I will see when they definitely are given more attention.

Breath of the Wild definitely being one of them that definitely does favor giving them more attention. The content they are given is too much for me to even list here. There are already great posts out there to do that for you.

Now I know all of this so far sounds like rambling and admittedly it probably is..but I mention this to let you know that even though I do feel like link and Zelda are more favored in this game then in some others, that I don’t expect Nintendo to actually confirm anything. No, of course not. I don’t think they ever will. They still want to paint it as “player’s choice” after all.

But what do we know so far?

Link opened up to Zelda, his true personality came back after his memory loss (in my opinion at least it was his true personality before making himself a rock) that Zelda has something to tell Link when she sees him again, and that Link knows about the princess’ crush on him.

Now..there are some problems with some of those that may seem obvious.

What I’m worried about with the sequel is what Nintendo’s cowardly choices will be.

Since they’re so fixated on “YOU CHOOSE YOUR ROUTE” I feel like they’ll still keep what you ended on in the first game, vague.

It would mean no progress in the things that you discovered in the first game.

Does this link remember Zelda and all of his friends like you worked hard to do? Or is this link the link that rushed into hyrule castle immediately and clapped Ganon’s ass cheeks and didnt regain his memories?

I know in the end, it’s still up to your imagination and you just go with your own headcanon. And yeah, that’s fine..I understand the freedom in that and all.

But I’m personally someone who likes to have things shown to my face and confirmed. I personally have more fun in that. So if the second option is the route they will be taking then..yeah of course I’ll live. Of course it’ll all still be fun. I just wish Nintendo would do a change with Link for once. They were starting to..especially with SS Link but..yah know.

And the “Link knowing Zelda’s crush” thing I understand you can only have Link discover that if you finish Kass’ quests. I understand if that one isn’t as important for Nintendo to focus on in..some ways. But I thought I’d mention it anyways.

So I feel like because of all of that..because Nintendo will still want it to be “it’s whatever you choose” that they won’t address things in a satisfying way. They won’t show the link that opened up to Zelda. They probably won’t make Zelda try to make things happen between her and Link because I feel like they still don’t always want to show confirmation between ships. (Also they will be too busy with GANON..so of course you know that could be a reason too lolol)

Again it’s not about “I’m a zelink shipper and I want to see them finally happen!” It’s more about..okay Nintendo, you are the ones drawing attention to certain aspects in the story and character’s romantic insterests for once and if you’re not going to progress and expand upon that then like..what are you doing lol..

I just..after Nintendo themselves saying that his personality does change after the memory loss..I don’t want to see him being blank again in present day. Nothing progressing..nothing being talked about between characters. Not after all of the attention they brought to his backstory and even Zelda’s feelings.

But I know that’s probably going to happen.

But hey! Maybe I’ll be proved wrong.

Of course this is all super earlier thoughts and worries since we don’t know shit about the new game, haha. I’m just spitting out what comes to mind.

And I know it’ll be more about the deep story Nintendo is wanting to show which, awesome! I’m excited! More excited for that to be honest.

Again, I don’t mean to repeat my self here and you probably won’t believe me from how much I’ve said this now, but this truly isn’t about me being a zelink shipper.

It’s literally..

Nintendo.. if 👏you👏are👏going👏to👏actually👏draw👏attention👏to👏why👏Link👏is👏silent👏and👏actually👏confirm👏that👏a👏zelda👏legit👏told👏someone👏that👏she👏has👏eyes👏for👏her👏knight👏then👏dont👏dodge👏the👏shit👏you👏put👏on👏the👏table👏yourself👏and👏not👏address👏your👏shit👏and keep👏link👏being👏a blank👏slate👏when👏it👏no����longer👏makes👏sense👏then👏what👏the fuck👏writing👏are👏you doing👏

....

This👏is👏no👏longer👏the👏past👏link👏But is👏now👏the👏link👏you👏said👏has👏changed👏👏👏

Again, this stuff probably ain’t even a second thought to other people..I’m not saying this is the most important shit in the world to me..this is just something that I thought about and decided to let out cause I just can haha

Sorry that this is so unnessarily long.

I can lose focus and wind up not even getting to my point or not making my point clear..so..like..I’m sorry, lol. I probably explained myself horribly.

[moonb-eam]

24, 25, 45, 46 😁

kate my love!! thank youuuu 🧡

asks for fanfic authors

24. favourite scene you’ve ever written

ah sorry babe, i answered this one already!! 😓 i’m going to link to that ask if it’s okay!

you can find it here !

25. favourite line you’ve ever written

do you know what i had to go back through my fics to figure this out what a ride asdfjk

and i think i’ve decided on a little paragraph from interlude - the gallery, which isn’t one of my most popular pieces or anything, but when i wrote this bit i actually sat back and went, whew, okay (and that doesn’t happen very often lolol)

Lucas drains the rest of his wine, makes a face at the taste, and thinks about diving into Eliott’s giant painting. Maybe he can make a home for himself underneath the smudged lines, can wrap himself up in Eliott’s brushstrokes and fingerprints, and stay there. Unobtrusive. Unnoticed.

45. share the synopsis of a story you’re working on that you haven’t published yet

hmmmmmm okie 👀👀

i’ve talked about this story a bit already, so it might not be that exciting? but i’ll give a little synopsis for my dark academia au (i hope i can make it sound a little appealing asdfjk)

here we find lucas, a freshman attending the infamous, prestigious montvera university in france in the mid-1950s. he’s going on a scholarship, which, at this school, are few and far between. it’s something he was only able to get because of the connections his father has with the schooli.

it’s a strange school in a strange place, isolated from the rest of the world in the french countryside, the only town near it small and hushed, with locals who watch the students of montvera with careful eyes. they say there’s something odd about the students of that school, something that they can never put their fingers on, but it’s something that makes them shiver, makes the hair on their necks stand.

lucas doesn’t know this when he arrives at montvera, but there’s a lot he doesn’t know.

he doesn’t know about the things he’ll find there: hidden messages in the library, strange happenings in the woods, disappearances, ancient secrets, shadows that travel like ghosts.

he doesn’t know about he people he’ll meet there - an exclusive club of the institutions best and brightest, fascinatingly strange and intoxicatingly mysterious. he doesn't know about the boy that belongs in that fold - a quiet boy with green-grey eyes, a boy that’s been waiting for lucas for years without even knowing it.

(i’m also making a pinterest board for the story 🤠 you can find it here if you like!)

46. share a scene of a story that you haven’t published yet

alright, since i’m on a roll with the dark academia au i’m gonna just go ahead and post the entire prologue under the cut, which is essentially an intro to the school!

(the prologue is second-person pov but the fic will be third-person never fear)

It’s a place that’s familiar to you even if you’ve never been there.

Old brick buildings covered in ivy, cobble stones paths winding between them, students dashing between doors with textbooks held over their heads to avoid rain, a place so dripped in history and tradition that if you touch one of the walls your hand comes away sticky with it.

You’ve read about it, perhaps, the university north of Paris that is notoriously difficult to gain acceptance to. Perhaps you’re familiar with some of its graduates, notable names frequently seen in the news, from political leaders to famed scientists, academics to artists. 

Or you may have caught a whisper of one of the many rumours about it: the haunted buildings, the bribery schemes, the crushingly challenging curricula. You could take your pick of outlandish story, as places such as that, places with an inherent air of secrecy and prestige, are bound to be shrouded in infamy whether they want it or not.

(Although, perhaps it is better to be talked about, regardless of whether the words are good or bad. There is an immortality in infamy, don’t you think?)

You know of it, and perhaps you’ve seen it, that view from the passing roadway where you can just make out looming gothic spires through the mist, most of the view obstructed by a wrought iron gate and ancient, gnarled oaks. Perhaps your father stops the car, makes the entire family get out to try and get a better look, and you have to stand there while he waxes poetic about a school such as this.

What I wouldn’t give, your father says, for one of my children to go here.

But you take one look at the gate, at the giant “M” formed in the middle, and you know very well you will never belong in such a place. You know that this is a place for those who are brilliant, wealthy, well-connected. A place for people that are of a different caliber than yourself.

Eventually, your father allows you all to return to the car, and you carry on back into the city. You don’t think much more about L’Universitie de Montvera, only listen with half an ear when you hear your classmates bemoaning their rejections from the school. It becomes nothing more than a haze of fog in your memory, slipping out of loose fingers.

It’s a funny thing, how quickly memory can return with the right prompt.

Only a year later you’re on a train, travelling north to see your grands-parents and a boy takes the seat across from you. There’s nothing particularly remarkable about him to you, so you do nothing more than smile politely, taking note of his tweed jacket that’s been haphazardly sewn at a hole in the elbow, his brogues that are scuffed, his suitcases, dark blue with a faded Lallemant embossed at the closure. But then your gaze is caught on something, a piece of paper sticking out of the leather bag he sets on the ground, practically begging you to read it.

Bienvenue au L’Universitie de Montvera, it says, and immediately you’re back there, standing at those gates, wishing for once your father would be satisfied with his own children.

Oh, you think, eyeing up the boy with more interest now. You’re one of them.

You wonder, what sort of things wait for you there?

You do not ask. You just watch as the boy gets up at the second stop, takes his bags and stumbles out of the train, into the fog that always seems to plague this part of France.

You watch him leave, and you can’t decide if the breath you let out is because you wish you were him, or if you’re relieved that you’re not him.