#i loved them in the book but we're two episodes in and I LOVE THEM

[fictionadventurer]

Top five time travel movies/books! :D

See, the trouble is that while I love time travel as a concept, I haven't actually explored the genre that much. I haven't watched/read most of the time travel stories out there, sometimes because I just haven't gotten to it, other times because I'm very picky about content, other times because most of the time travel stories I run across are either "we're a bureaucratic agency dedicated to policing time travel" or "oh, no, what if we change history?" or "I fell in love with a hunky Highlander", none of which are the parts of time travel stories that interest me.

The most accurate version of this list would be a list of Doctor Who episodes (and maybe some Star Trek ones), but you specified movies and books, which is going to make this a much more difficult list to create.

The Day of the Doctor: Haha, I cheated, because Day of the Doctor was released in theaters, which makes it a movie! (So I can use it as a stand-in for all the Doctor Who episodes that are my favorite time travel stories). Thankfully, it's a fantastic time travel story and one of my favorites. It's a genius blend of both "stable timeline" and "changeable timeline" mechanics. Three different interweaving timelines. References to A Christmas Carol. Changing major events in the show's past without changing the timeline that resulted from them at all. A rejection once and for all of the "ends justify the means" mindset that had lingered over the reboot for too long. A masterpiece.

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens: It's the classic Christmas story for a reason--and one of those reasons is the time travel. Going with Scrooge across decades of his own life and watching him undergo character development from that is a great use of time travel. (And there happens to be a great Doctor Who version, too!)

Star Trek: First Contact: It's fun when you get characters traveling from the future to a different time that's also in the future. Love all the worldbuilding details of these characters interacting with their past/our fictional future, and it's a pretty good story.

Shadowhand by Anne Elisabeth Stengl: The Tales of Goldstone Wood series has a structure unlike any I've ever seen in fantasy, and this book is the reason. The first three books in the series are in chronological order. The next two books are prequels that take place like a thousand years earlier. This book, the sixth, involves characters from the later time period time-traveling to meet characters from the earlier time period, and getting swept up in a legend that they've known since childhood. I remember very little about the book beyond that, but it's such a cool concept (with an unforgettable ending moment) that I have to put it on the list.

Love Strikes Twice: It's one of the very rare Hallmark movies that's actually a decent movie by normal movie standards, so I have to give it credit. Instead of the usual boring time travel plot of "oh no, what if we change history?", we get someone who's trying to change history, who does change history, and it's a good thing. The time travel mechanics surrounding that make no sense, but who cares? It's a fun story with an engaging cast, legitimately funny jokes, a sweet romance, and a solid plot.

[yocalio]

SHŌGUN - Chapter Two: Servants of Two Masters "Wait, Mariko. I know you hold these priests in high regard, but I beg you to consider their motives. Your lord is in danger. And I have a ship."

[calebs-hangout-corner]

Thinking about Brooke again

[sage-nebula]

Thinking about how important it is that Wendy is a part of the Pines family. (Because she is, as much as Soos is. It's why she's in the family photos, such as the one representing Ford's happiness at the end of The Book of Bill.)

We don't know too much about Wendy's home / family life. Unfortunately, we don't a single Wendy-focused episode, and we don't get to learn too much about her outside of how she interacts with the main characters. But here is what we do know:

Wendy is the oldest of four siblings, with three little brothers. Wendy herself is 15. We are never given ages for her brothers, but given the photo that she shows Dipper of her younger self in "Double Dipper", I'm guesstimating that the youngest Corduroy brother (Gus) is about 6 in the present day. This is because young!Wendy was wearing braces and also noted to be "freakishly tall" for her age, and Gus was wearing a diaper in the photo (but standing on his own). Braces can take two to three years to be removed, and Wendy doesn't have them in the present day, meaning she was probably around 11 or 12 in the photo. Meanwhile, Gus was in a diaper but able to stand, meaning he was probably a toddler, likely around 2. So in the present day, Wendy is 15, Gus is around 6 (depending on if Wendy was 11 or 12 in the photo), and Marcus and Kevin (the middle brothers) are between 14 and 7.

Wendy's mother died when she was young. Given the age of Gus in the photo, we can estimate that Wendy's mother died when Wendy was, at youngest, 11 or 12 -- so, three or four years pre-canon. (Because any earlier than that and Gus couldn't have been born.)

Wendy's father is Manly Dan, who shouts just about every line of dialogue he has and routinely breaks things, including in his own house, albeit sometimes by accident. He also spends most of his time in a biker bar, though we do know that he does love his children. (e.g. is seen with the boys on both family fishing day and Summerween, is seen taking Wendy out for breakfast in "Dipper vs. Manliness").

Dan is the reason why Wendy has a summer job. As she says in "Gideon Rises", "If I can't work at the Shack, my dad's gonna force me to work at my cousin's logging camp up north." This implies that Wendy has to work somewhere, per a rule of Dan's.

In "Into the Bunker", Wendy has this to say when she comments on how she's excited to be going on an adventure with Dipper and Mabel: "It beats cleaning up after my dad at home." She says this with a frown, in a grousing tone. We're then treated to a clip of Dan breaking apart the cabin as mentioned above.

In "Society of the Blind Eye", before she's about to have her memories erased, Wendy confesses thus: "I'm stressed like 24/7. Have you MET my family?"

Wendy dreams about her mother every night. The glimpse of her dream that we're shown depicts her receiving a comforting hug from her mother.

The conclusions that I draw from the above are thus: prior to her mother's death, Wendy had what amounts to a normal family life in Gravity Falls. The Corduroys were a two parent household, her mother was there to help balance Dan out and raise the kids (Wendy included), and Wendy could, well . . . be a kid. It's possible, even, that some of Dan's more worrying traits (such as spending the majority of his time at a bar) didn't exist when Wendy's mom is alive. It's pure speculation on my part, but it's possible that Dan feels compelled to go to a bar to be aggressive (and drink, even if we don't see it because it's a kid's show) because that's how he processes his grief over his wife's death, away from his children's eyes and ears. He's trying to be a responsible father and not hurt his kids, while at the same time still not handling things in the most healthy way.

But back to Wendy. Once Wendy's mother died, the dynamic in the Corduroy household shifted. Dan was hit by the tidal wave of grief that comes with losing a spouse, as well as the sudden onslaught of being a single father to four children, one of whom was very possibly still in diapers. And if my speculation is correct and that he took to going to the bar to deal with his grief, then who is left to change Gus' diapers and get him potty trained? To operate the stove or oven or microwave to make sure that the boys (who would all be under age 10 at this point) got fed, and to make sure she got fed herself? To, in her own words, "clean up [her] dad's messes" when he was at home to make them by breaking apart the house with his own head?

Wendy.

Wendy was a child herself when her mother died, but she was the oldest child, potentially freshly into middle school while the boys were still in elementary, and the oldest daughter to boot. The girl, expected to know how to do "girl things" like cook and clean. I'm not saying that Dan told her to do these things, but we know from Wendy's personality that she is protective of those who need it (e.g. Dipper and Mabel) and, more importantly, that's her home and her family, and she does love them (she makes this clear in the Weirdmageddon episodes numerous times). She wouldn't let her little brothers starve, wouldn't let her youngest sit in a filthy diaper, would try to pick up the house if her dad and brothers wouldn't. Wendy would step up to do it out of necessity, even if she hated it and felt stressed out about it, especially while also feeling the crushing grief that comes with having lost her mother.

So Wendy, having lost her mother at a young age, probably had to step up into a pseudo-parental role in her own house, trying her best to fill the void that was left by her mother's passing even though she was only a child herself. And this is why she's "stressed, like, 24/7." Because not only are her father and brothers loud and chaotic (especially with Dan raising the boys into miniature versions of him), but because it's her responsibility (spoken or no) to keep the house in as much order as she can. It's little wonder that, outside of the movie that she and Dipper are watching in the beginning of "Into the Bunker", Wendy seems to spend as little time as possible in her own home.

So, how does this fit into it being important for Wendy to be part of the Pines family? Or, worded in a better way, why it's so important that she has the Pines as a second family, and the Mystery Shack as a second home?

As I said above, once Wendy's mother died, her ability to be a child in her own home effectively ended. Again, to make it clear, Wendy doesn't hate her family. In fact, it's the opposite; the Weirdmageddon episodes make it clear that she still loves her father and her brothers very much. But "Society of the Blind Eye" also makes it clear that they stress her out. She has a lot of complicated feelings, something that's understandable given her complicated situation.

But because she has to help keep the house together when she's at home, that means she can only really be a kid (or teenager, as the case may be) when she's outside of it. She has a lot of fun doing this with her friends, but sometimes a teen does need a home to relax in. And for Wendy, that home is the Mystery Shack -- and yes, that includes when she's on the clock.

Now, I know what you may be thinking: it's stated that Stan is a terrible boss, that he barks orders, that he yells -- how is that any different from her father? Well, I'll tell you how: the only time we actually see this is in "Boss Mabel", in which Stan being a boss who yells and barks orders at his employees is a plot point meant to create the conflict for the episode. Otherwise, we never really see Stan being an awful boss, and in particular we never see him being hard on Wendy. In fact, I would argue we see the opposite.

Here are things we know about Wendy's behavior at work, and Stan's response to her behavior at work:

Wendy constantly reads magazines while working the cash register, often right in front of Stan. Stan never tells her to put the magazine away.

Wendy often puts her feet up on the counter. Stan never tells her to take her feet off the counter.

Wendy goes up to the roof "all the time, every day" to the point where she has a chair and cooler up there. ("The Inconveniencing"). We don't know if Stan knows about this or not, but it's hard to believe he wouldn't if Wendy goes up there as much as she says she does.

When Stan told her to hang signs up out in the woods, she said, "I would, but I can't . . . reach . . ." while making no effort to get up to get the sign, and not removing her eyes from the magazine or her feet from the counter. Stan simply said, "I'd fire [. . .] you if I could." i.e. she got away with it 100%. ("Tourist Trapped")

When Stan double checks with Wendy and Soos that they'll wash the bathrooms while he's gone, Wendy says, "absolutely not" with a salute. Stan laughs and then says to stay out of trouble, not caring at all. ("The Inconveniencing")

Wendy was supposed to work the ticket stand all night at the party. She quit about ten minutes in and blatantly joined the party. Stan had to have seen her. He did nothing. ("Double Dipper")

Wendy claims in "Boss Mabel" that Stan doesn't let her have friends at work. In contrast, we see Robbie visit her at work all the time throughout their relationship (e.g. "Fight Fighters", "Boyz Crazy"), and Stan even comments on "is that the guy that's always making googly eyes at Wendy?" but otherwise has no problem with it. So again, it was a conflict invented for "Boss Mabel" that otherwise doesn't exist.

And that is just off the top of my head. The point is, Wendy is perhaps treated the easiest of the staff at the Mystery Shack. She's blatantly lazy and snarky and the most Stan ever does is grouse that he would "fire [her] if he could."

And this is a good thing.

The Mystery Shack, even if when she's on the clock, is clearly a place where Wendy can relax. It's somewhere she feels comfortable, rather than stressed. Yes, she's working -- but she's putting in the barest minimum effort because the stakes are the lowest they could possibly be. Because even though Stan grouses and complains about how little she cares, he won't fire her. He says he can't, but let's be honest, he could. One could argue that he'd be out a cashier, but he already is when the school year starts and Wendy has to go back to school. The Shack doesn't close down then, so it wouldn't close now if he fired Wendy.

But he won't fire her, because he knows that if he did, she'd be sent up north to her cousin's logging camp, a job she would hate and that would add on to the stress she already has from her home life. Stan has been in Gravity Falls for 30 years; he's been there since before Wendy was born. He knew her mother. He remembers when her mother died a few years ago. He probably saw how Dan's personality changed, how Wendy's personality changed from a more carefree little girl to a little girl who had to act more carefree than she actually was because she won't ever dare let anyone know she's anything but tough as nails, kinda like the guy he sees when he looks in the mirror. So he'll grouse at her about her laziness, and she'll complain about how much she hates having to work, but he'll also never hire another cashier even during the school year when the Shack maybe could use the extra help, and she knows that he both has an orthopedic back pillow and where it's kept, and that's as much as either of them will say about it. (Source for the orthopedic back pillow: "Soos and the Real Girl").

Wendy spends time at the Shack that would otherwise be spent at her home. When she decides to leave Tambry's party early, she goes to hang out at the Shack and watch movies with Stan, before the twins or Soos arrive ("Summerween"). She's likewise hanging out with the Pines and Soos watching television despite work clearly being over in the beginning of "Dreamscaperers". Wendy can relax at the Shack, can be in a home environment where she has no responsibilities, where she can simply be a teenager without also having to be a pseudo-parent. She can be a big sister figure to Dipper and Mabel without the added responsibilities of having to make sure they're fed and brought up right. She can be snarky with Stan, and he'll be snarky back, and there are no risks or consequences at all.

It's important that Wendy is a member of the Pines family, because here there are no complications for her. She loves her original family, but things got difficult when her mother died, and they won't ever stop being difficult. But things aren't difficult with the Pines. In a way, being with the Pines is as comfortable as the hugs she gets from her mother in her dreams every night. Being with the Pines feels right. It feels safe.

It's good that Wendy has them. It's important that Wendy has them. And fortunately, she always will.

[littlewriters-posts]

Hey darling! Can I request the Damon Salvatore x Fem!Reader? So maybe where the reader is the reincarnation or rebirth of Damon's old love, and Damon meets the reader's reincarnation like Elena in season 3, episode 22?

I love this idea so much!!

I spent hours writing this last night only for it not to save, so here is another attempt.

Plot: Damon thought his first love was dead and buried, so imagine his surprise when someone turns up in Beacon Hills wearing her exact face

1864

Katherine Peirce loved her boys - more importantly she loved how she had them wrapped around her little finger. Which meant of course, she could get whatever she wanted.

The three of them were sat outside in the gardens, enjoying the sunshine in the summer weather. Kathrine, Damon and Stefan all laughing amongst themselves like old friends.

"Your friend is coming today is she not?" Stefan asked.

Kathrine nodded, looking towards the road as if expecting a carriage to pull up at any minute.

"We're grateful you could offer us both shelter," she replied simply.

"Well if she's anything like you, how could we refuse?" Damon asked, a grin forming on his face.

Kathrine smiled up at him "She's exactly like me,"

This was a lie. Although Kathrine would never admit it, she often mimicked her friend's personality to get people to like her. Y/N was softer than Kathrine was, her heart not frozen from the years of pain they had both endured.

"What did you say her name was again?" Stefan asked.

"Y/N," Kathrine responded, "And it looks like she's here,"

A black carriage was pulling up, and a footman appeared to open the door. Kathrine was quick to race towards her friend, whilst the brothers hung back to watch the scene play out.

They watched as Y/N stepped out of the carriage, adorned in a soft green dress. She embraced her friend, a wide smile on her face as she chatted excitedly. Katherine drew her to where the Salvatore brothers stood, and Y/N shrunk slightly, stepping behind Katherine ever so slightly.

"Salvatore's, this is Y/N L/N, you'll forgive her if she's a little shy," Katherine smiled down at her friend.

Damon was the first to respond, taking her hand and pulling it up to his lips. "Damon Salvatore," he said, pressing a quick kiss to her hand.

Y/N curtseyed in response "A pleasure to meet you Mr Salvatore,"

Stefan was next, offering her a small bow "Stefan Salvatore, we hope you enjoy your stay here,"

Y/N smiled, looking between the two bothers "Thank you for having me, Kathrine tells me you have been most generous hosts,"

Kathrine clicked her tongue "Forgive me Salvatore's, but I believe I will be showing her around her new home,"

The brothers gave a small wave towards the girl in green, who gave a shy smile in response.

"What do you think?" Stefan asked his brother. Damon eyed the retreating figures of the two girls with curiosity.

"Well Kathrine says she's like her, but I don't think I've ever met someone so different,"

Neither Stefan nor Damon saw much of Y/N from that moment on, she would never be teasing them the way Katherine did, nor would she seek them out. They'd catch glimpses of her reading, or writing beneath one of the trees in the garden occasionally, but neither of them even thought of saying something.

They were too captivated by Katherine.

But then came the day of the Founder's ball. Damon was in a foul mood, since Katherine had decided to attend the ball with Stefan, and found himself wandering he halls of his own home, unable to escape the nagging feeling in his chest.

So he went to where he always went too when his thoughts became too much; the library.

It was a large place, with books lining the walls like leaves on the trees. But it was cosy also, with three large chairs huddled round the grand fireplace.

To his surprise however, there was already somebody there.

"Miss Y/N," he remarked, a surprised frown on his face "I thought you'd be at the party,"

It was true, as she was adorned in a beautiful purple dress, that looked to be one of Katherine's. Her hair was done in an elegant updo, but still she sat on the chair, a heavy book in her lap.

She blinked up at him, her fingers fiddling with the pages.

"I've never been one for crowds, that was always more of Katherine's thing," she said softly.

Katherine. The name felt bitter on Damon's tongue. He wondered though, if Y/N was like Katherine in other ways, in ways that had to be kept a secret from the rest of the family.

"Mind if I join you?" Damon asked, and Y/N shook her head.

"Not at all,"

There was a brief silence between them as Damon stared at the girl. She paid him little attention, her eyes darting across the pages of the book as if feasting off the words it gave her.

"You like to read," he observed, and Y/N jumped, forgetting he was there.

"I like to write," she corrected "But reading is the next best thing if I have nothing to write in,"

There was another silence, and Damon debated saying something else, but she didn't seem like the type to want to talk much, and he felt he should be careful where he tread. But to his surprise it was her who started the next conversation.

"What brings you out of the party?" Y/N asked, closing her book and setting it to the side.

Damon sighed, he couldn't tell her the real reason, for Katherine was her friend and he was not. But similarly he couldn't think of a lie, something about her made him feel guilty for even thinking about lying to her.

Y/N grimaced slightly, taking pity on the fallen expression of the man. "I see she chose your heart to break," she said softly.

"What?" Damon asked, taken by surprise.

Y/N sighed "You think you're the first two men that Katherine has set against each other? I love her dearly, but she does like her games,"

Damon shrugged "The price I pay for falling for the act in the first place,"

"If I may," Y/N said cautiously "If you want to win her affection's you needn't show it to her so much. Katherine likes to chase,"

Damon's eyes flickered slightly 2What are you suggesting?" he asked.

"Take someone else to the next founders ball," Y/N suggested, picking up another book from the table. "You're a handsome man Mr Salvatore I'm sure you'll have little trouble finding somebody who takes an interest,"

Damon sat back a little, before glancing at the time. The founders ball still had a couple of hours before it was over.

"Why wait?" he asked, a mischievous smile on his face. "I could get a date right now,"

"That's the spirit," Y/N said, not looking up from her book.

"So Y/N, would you do me the honour of attending the founders ball with me?"

Y/N's mouth dropped open as she looked up at Damon, who was now standing with his arm outstretched towards ger.

"I - I can't!" she said with wide eyes "I'm terrible with crowds, and I don't know anybody, and god forbid they try and talk with me-"

Damon cocked his head slightly as she spoke, sensing the panic in her voice.

"I'll stay with you, and if anyone speaks to us, I will be the one to answer, if that is what you wish. So what do you say - one dance?"

Y/N hesitated, before slowing accepting his hand and letting him pull her up. "Don't make me regret this Mr Salvatore," she warned.

He laughed, guiding her hand to he crook of his arm. "Please call me Damon,"

Y/N sighed, trying desperately to swallow the nerves about walking into a room full of people she didn't know.

In the hall, Katherine and Stefan were dancing gracefully, successfully ignoring the stares of the room.

"I do hope your brother isn't too offended by my choice of Salvatore," Katherine mused, earning a chuckle from Stefan.

"I do believe he'll get over it - or he already has,"

"What?" asked Katherine, but Stefan just nodded towards the other side of the room, where Damon had just entered, Y/N on his arm.

Katherine's eyes narrowed as Damon shot a smirk her way, before leaning down to whisper in Y/N's ear.

"Just follow my lead, you'll be fine,"

Y/N tried not to shiver as his breath hit her ear, and allowed herself to be led across the dancefloor.

"I never thought you'd be the dancing type," she admitted, looking up into his blue eyes.

"And why is that?" Damon asked a slight smirk playing on his face.

"I don't know," Y/N bit her lip slightly to stop herself from smiling "You seemed much too arrogant to bore yourself with something as frivolous as a party,"

Damon's eyebrows raised as he realised her teasing tone "I never thought you'd be so cheeky, I thought that was something that belonged to Katherine,"

Y/N shook her head slightly, a laugh falling from her lips "Katherine was always so serious, even when we were children. I suppose you Salvatore's have shown her a thing or two,"

Children, they knew each other when they were children, so Y/N must at least know what Katherine was, if she wasn't one herself.

"She's staring at us," Damon commented, realising that Katherine had stopped dancing with his brother, and was shooting curious looks to the other pair.

"Told you," Y/N shrugged, her voice lowering to a whisper "Nobody Knows Katherine like I do - perhaps now would be a good time to talk to her?"

Damon hesitated, he knew that part of him wanted to but the other part -

"We're having far too much fun dancing, don't you think?"

And it was true, Damon did enjoy Y/N's company. With her shyness beginning to ease, he enjoyed the small jests she'd make at him, and thoughts of Katherine began fading away.

The pair danced, and chatted until the early hours of the morning when the founders ball finally came to an end, and the last of the guests were leaving.

Y/N let out a yawn, and Damon caught her as she stumbled slightly.

"I think it's time I retire," she said sleepily "It's been a pleasure dancing with you Mr Salv - Damon,"

Damon brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a firm kiss on the back of it. "The pleasure was all mine, goodnight Y/N,"

He watched as she left, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Careful, she'll fall in love with you," came a sly voice to the right of him. He didn't need to look to know it was Katherine. "her heart is far too soft to survive a Salvatore brother,"

"You were wrong before, she is nothing like you," Damon commented "Enjoy my brother,"

And with that he walked off, feeling triumphant that he had been able resist the urge to fall right back into Katherine's arms, but he couldn't shake the Y/N from his mind either.

The next morning, Damon found himself outside the door of Y/N's bedroom, his hand ready to knock when she opened to door herself.

She jumped slightly "Oh - Damon?" she asked her eyes wide.

His lips parted in shock slightly, the encounter catching him off guard and all the rehearsed words in his head disappearing.

"Are you alright, you look like you've seen a ghost?" she asked, frowning slightly.

Damon cleared his throat, presenting a small brown parcel with his other hand.

"A thankyou gift, for coming with me to the dance last night," he said.

Y/N blinked slightly, gingerly taking the package from his hands, and carefully untying the string.

"You didn't have to -" she began, before trailing off as she revealed the leather bound notebook he had bought for her.

"You mentioned you loved writing, I figured this would help you out a bit," he said slightly nervously "Do you like it?"

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. "Thankyou so much Damon, this - it means the world," she said sincerely, clutching the book to her chest as if it may run away.

Damon's worried expression broke into a grin. Another difference between Y/N and Katherine, Y/N was sincere, was genuine.

He didn't even see Katherine glaring at the two from behind the pillar.

Katherine watched with resentment over the next couple of weeks, watching as Damon started pining after Y/N instead of her. Of course, anyone else she would have gotten rid of immediately, but Y/N was her friend, and she didn't have many of those.

Even Stefan noticed her change in behaviour towards the other girl, but decided it was not in his best interest to question it.

But Damon was oblivious, too wrapped up in wanting the attention of the shy girl he had met, yet seemingly unable to show his affections towards her.

Y/N carried on with her life, desperately trying to ignore the flutters in her stomach whenever the older brother entered the room, concealing her blushing cheeks with her hair whenever he spoke. Nobody noticed, besides Katherine, as the girl often hid herself behind her hair when people spoke to her, but not quite in the same way.

"I see you fell in love with him too," Katherine commented, walking in unannounced to her friends bedroom.

Y/N sighed nervously, she knew that Katherine got whatever she wanted, and mostly she allowed it which is why the pair were such good friends.

Katherine stepped closer. "What do you think he'll think of you when you tell him what you are?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

Y/N shook her head "I don't need to tell him," she said hoarsely, "I'm not like you Katherine,"

Katherine chuckled "You may not be a vampire, but you can't go around pretending to be human,"

Y/N glared at her friend through the reflection of the mirror, but didn't say anything to protest and Katherine smiled.

"I'm just saving you the pain of losing him," she said, before turning on her heal and waltzing out the door, no doubt to find the Salvatore brother herself.

Y/N sighed, her had laying on the book that Damon had gotten her, piled on top of all the other books she had written in over the years. Even if she didn't like it, Katherine was correct. Though her curse wasn't quite as visible as the older girl's, it was a curse nevertheless, and all curses had consequences.

"What did she mean?"

Y/N froze, the sound of the man's voice like ice in her heart. She spun round and came face to face with Damon, who was standing in front of the door he had just closed.

He took a step closer, his eyes searching her stricken and panicked face. Another way she was different to Katherine, she wore her heard and emotions on her sleeve, there was no having to interpret or guess with her, she was an open book whether she liked it or not.

"You don't have to be scared, I didn't tell Katherine's secret and I won't tell yours," he reassured her, stepping closer to take her hand.

"I'm not a vampire," Y/N said defiantly.

Damon shook his head "You don't have to lie to me," he promised, his blue eyes searching her nervous ones.

"I'm not!" she stressed, before breaking away from Damon's grasp and sitting on the bed "It's more complicated than that,"

Damon sank to his knees before her, looking up at her with wide and trusting eyes "Then let me help you,"

"I'm cursed," Y/N said quietly after a beat. "They call it the Phoenix curse. Every time I die, I get reborn from my ashes as my old body burns, forgetting everything from my previous life."

Damon frowned "But if you forget everything, how do you know you've died before?"

Y/N smiled slightly, raising her hand to brush the hair from his eyes. "I didn't at first. But I am always reborn at the age of sixteen, and people tend to notice when you're almost an adult and have no memories to show it. Katherine found me, and she had this made for me,"

Y/N drew out a necklace that was tucked away in her bodice. It was golden, and dainty, with a red gemstone in the middle of it.

"It allows me to keep the memories even after I have been reborn,"

Damon let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"Well that's certainly a raw deal on your behalf, at least Vampires get the added speed and strength,"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head slightly as she stood up.

"The books in your father's library say that I have wings, and that I can fly, but that remains a mystery to me, and I am immune to compulsion" she said with a smile.

Damon hesitated, a question on the tip of his tongue but unsure whether or not to ask it.

"Well it seems to me, that as long as I don't let anyone kill you, there doesn't seem to be much of a curse," he commented with a quick smile.

Y/N raised her eyebrows "Surely it is Katherine you would want to be around, speaking of which, how are you and her?" she asked

Damon shrugged "I found someone else that seemed far more appealing,"

Y/N turned to face him, her breath catching in her throat slightly as she realised just how close they actually were.

"Who?" she asked, unable to hide her blushing cheeks with her hair this time.

"You,"

Y/N's eyes widened, her brows drawing up slightly as she looked at him. Her lips parted as if wanting to say something, but no words came out, her heart pounding against her chest, the tightness of her corset making it difficult to breathe.

"Damon - Katherine," was all she could let out, but he shook his head.

"I don't want her, not since I met you. I no longer want to be chasing after a game, but I would chase after you for the rest of my life if that is what it took. I would tell a hundred jokes just to hear you laugh, and run a thousand miles to catch up to you,"

Y/N let him grab her hands in his own, but tugged away slightly "Damon you don't understand, Katherine wants you. And Katherine always gets what she wants,"

But Damon didn't relent "But I don't want Katherine, I want you," he said, the desperation leaking into his voice "But if you truly do not want me, then that is fine, but I need to hear you say it. I need to hear your say you do not want me if I am to go,"

Y/N shook her head, her gaze downwards "I can not lie to you Damon," she said quietly "I can not say I do not want you, when you are all I want,"

Damon breathed a sigh of relief, a slight laugh falling from his lips as he embraced her in a tight hug, pulling away only to cup her face in his hands, his blue eyes memorising every detail of it as if would disappear if he looked away.

"Meet me outside, near the village. You go out of the left gate at the gardens then follow the road until you meet the village square, I'll meet you there - I've got a surprise for you," he said, the smile never leaving his face.

"I will try, but I'm terrible with directions," Y/N teased "You may have to find me if I get lost."

Damon kissed her cheek, tucking her stray hair behind her ear "I will always find you," he promised.

Behind the door, Katherine watched the two lovers, a dark expression on her face. As much as she adored her, Y/N would have to go.

So as Damon waited at the village square, and the minutes ticked by, it occurred to him only too late that something terrible had happened to his new love.

That Y/N had disappeared without a trace.

2009

Y/N sighed with a heavy heart, as she lugged her suitcase behind her. She was grateful to have a suitcase, many of the children she was with in the foster home before had their stuff in plastic bin bags as they moved from house to house.

But Y/N had been adopted.

She found it odd that somebody wanted to adopt her, especially since she was three weeks away from turning eighteen, but it meant she no longer had to fend for herself once she aged out of the system, so she had to be grateful.

Rudy Hopkins

Y/N hadn't even met him, yet here he was willing to adopt the strange girl without a second thought.

That's if Y/N could find the damn house.

Mystic falls was a mystery to her, especially since she had never been there before - or so she thought.

"Y/N?" came a voice.

She spun round, and came face to face with a man she could only describe as beautiful. His eyes were wide, and blue, looking at her with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"Er, I'm sorry do I know you?" she asked with a frown, stepping backwards nervously as the man stepped closer to her.

He froze, his eyes glinting downwards to her neck, where not one bit of jewellery rested.

"Sorry, I thought you were someone I knew - Damon Salvatore," he introduced himself, but his blue eyes were still piercing her own, scanning her as if she were an odd puzzle piece he couldn't quite place.

"Y/N L/N," she responded, a slight frown evident on her face "Are you alright, you look like you've seen a ghost,"

Damon hesitated, her words echoing in his head, the same words she had spoken to him all those years before, yet she truly had no recollection of him.

He nodded "Sorry for bothering you," he said quickly, turning to walk away.

"Wait!" she called out, grabbing her suitcase "You don't know where Rudy Hopkins lives do you? He's my adoptive parent, but he didn't show up to the meeting point, he just text that I'll meet him at home,"

Damon's eyes widened, Rudy Hopkins was the father of Bonnie Bennet, there was no way this was a coincidence.

"Follow the road back down until you - " he paused, looking at her confused and slightly panicked expression, and he felt his heart tug slightly as he remembered her all those years ago wearing exactly the same face as she was now.

"I'll take you," he reassured "Something tells me that you're not very good with directions,"

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief "You aren't going to turn out to be some serial killer are you?"

Damon snorted "Bit late to ask that isn't it? But no, I can promise I am not a serial killer,"

Y/N smiled up at him as he walked next to her, and he found himself having to concentrate on not looking at her. She was exactly the same as she was all those years before, but with no memory of him whatsoever.

He was almost sorry as he left her on her doorstep, wanting to spend every moment with her, to see if it really was her, or just some cruel trick the world was trying to play on him.

She turned to thank him, but he was was already gone.

Damon had darted back to the Salvatore household, his head and heart both reeling from the encounter.

He burst into the living room, where both Stefan and Elena was sat cozied up in-front of the fire,

"Stefan," he said urgently, causing the two others to look up sharply. Stefan frowned at his brothers expression, Damon had many emotions, anger, hatred you name them, but never vulnrable.

Not until now.

"Stefan she's here - Y/N's here,"

Part two here:

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David and Michael in the interview with Ali Plumb for BBC Radio 1, 10th July 2023

I compared it with it's podcast version and there are some bits that are cut out in the video 👀 but I added them into the transcript ❤ 🐍😊 .

AP: If you're thinking I'm the kind of guy that rocks up to a Good Omens interview with...

Michael: With the book.

David: Oh, well done.

Michael: We'd be correct.

AP: Yeah.

[GOS2 Promo]

AP: So after such a successful and well received first series, what gives you guys?

David: Why risk it?

AP: Why risk it.

Michael: What gives you the right?!

AP: What gives you the cojones to do another one?

Michael: I know.

AP: How dare you?

Michael: It's terrible. When I wrote it.... Well, no, I mean, that's the thing, really, I mean, it's Neil and Terry's baby. And we'd always known that they'd gone beyond the world of the first book. In fact, there's stuff that's not in the first book, in the first series. So Gabriel is a character, you know, who's not there. So we'd always known that there was a lot more.

David: The ideas, the threads.

Michael: Exactly. And they even had a name for a sequel. 668: The Neighbour of the Beast. Which is hilarious.

[A cut out part that is not in the video, but you can listen to in the podcast version of it:

AP: Just take, write the joke and then work it out later.

Michael: The best Good Omens joke isn't even in the Good Omens book.

David: Yeah.

Michael: And so we knew there was all that. So I think given that, that gave certainly us the confidence to know that we were in, you know, safe hands.

David: Yeah.

Michael: And I think gave Neil the sense that it was worth exploring, going further, because I think without that, he would never have done it. If he didn't feel that Terry was part of that ride as well, then I don't think he would have gone on it.

]

AP: At the risk of reading from the scripture, this is what's in the hardback copy of Good Omens: 'Why isn't there a sequel? Neil: Well, we know how the sequel goes. We played around with the idea whilst we were on tour. We even discussed a few scenes, but we could never quite work up the enthusiasm. It'd have been fun. We'd split the cash. But we both had other things to do'.

Michael: Yes. It's very much how we felt, isn't it? We'll split the cash.

David: Yeah.

AP: And run.

Michael: You know, and if we got nothing else on.

David: Well, yeah.

Ap: And you kind of enjoy each other's company?

Michael: I mean, enjoy is a strong word.

David: We're very good at faking it.

AP: Actors. I love it.

David: Yeah, exactly, exactly.

Michael: Yeah, exactly.

AP: When, outside of a show's context or the film's context, have you felt physically, visually the silliest? Because I think in this show there have to be moments. Green screen, full orange wig hair, that you go, no one take a photo of me right now.

David: The opening scene of Season Two is set in space and we're dressed as sort of old fashioned-

Michael: That makes it sound like sort of an episode of Blakes 7 or something, it's not Sci-Fi space, is it?

David: There's nothing wrong with that.

Michael: No, there's nothing... I mean I love it.

David: Jesus,

AP: Are you stepping up saying Sci-Fi's rubbish at this-

Michael: No, no, no! Of course not! No. But what I'm saying is-

David: I don't know who this is

Michael: David is making it sound like it's like Aziraphale and Crowley are in a rocket ship.

David: It is set in space!

Michael: Well, yeah.

David: First series set in space! You can't... it's just factual.

Michael: But not like space 1999.

David: Just space.

AP: It's pure, undiluted space.

David: It's set in space. In fact, it is undiluted space. And for that, we were dressed as a traditional angel in a sort of nighties...

Michael: Yes, we weren't in silver spandex.

David: We were in nighties.

Michael: We were.

David: And we were strapped to make this floating in space - and they didn't have this on Blakes 7 - we were strapped onto these gurneys and moved up and down.

[hehe bonus pic :)]

Michael: I had a jetpack.

[again, cut out in the video but present in the podcast version

David: I mean, it looks beautiful. The finished, the finished piece.

Michael: It was very odd, wasn't it? Yes. We were both sort of just like.

David: Yes.

Michael: Hovering around each other.

David: And it was, it was ignoble. Some of the being strapped in and out.

Michael: It was. Yeah.

]

AP: At least it's not Jon Hamming into a room... full Hamm.

[GOS2 Promo]

[again, cut out in the video but present in the podcast version

David: The naked Hamm? The naked Hamm was... yeah. He seemed pretty...

Michael: He seemed very relaxed.

AP: He insisted on spending more scenes in that costume.

]

Michael: That was never in the script.

David: No, he just turned up on set.

Michael: That's how he showed up.

David: I had an idea, guys!

Michael: Yes. No, there's lots to look forward to.

AP bursts out laughing: Sorry.

Michael: And lots to look back on.

AP: This second series, having a little bit more wiggle room in terms of where you might be able to take the characters, I think it's fair enough to say. Do you feel more active input.

[again, cut out in the video but present in the podcast version

AP: Into where they might go? Because to me, they strike as having a very strong Woody and Buzz factor of...

David: Right.

AP: Bear with me here. You're both not very good at your jobs.

David: How dare you?

AP: It's true. One's no angel. One's far from evil.

David: That's true.

AP: And you kind of are fudging it constantly.

]

AP: Do you feel you have more room to kind of fudge here and fudge there and really muck about with the characters now?

Michael: I mean, I every day when we start, I like to first of all say, Neil, I've got no interest in hearing what you're going to say. This is what I think should happen.

David: Yeah.

Michael: I mean, the thing is, when you've got Neil Gaiman writing it-

David: Yeah.

Michael: -you should have just go, off you go, mate.

David: The last thing you want to do is start putting in your ideas. You don't want to limit anything that's going to come out.

Michael: It's like brain. It's like when Ringo says, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

AP: Yesterday, I have notes.

Michael: Listen, listen to what I've come up with.

AP: There's too much guitar in this.

David: Yeah.

AP: More drums.

David: Yeah.

Michael: Yeah. I think one of the things about Neil that is so wonderful is that he is so open and generous with ideas,

David: Yes.

Michael: and he's so not precious about what he's written. He is very respectful of what he and Terry created and is probably a bigger fan than any other fan, but he's not precious about it and he's very open to collaboration. In fact, he's probably the most collaborative

David: Yes.

Michael: I'd ever come across in my life.

David: Yes, absolutely.

Michael: So he loves watching what other people bring to the table, not just actors, but, you know, designers, everyone. And then I think he takes from that and is influenced by that. So it's very collaborative in that sense.

David: Yes. But if we influenced where the characters went in season two, it was sort of circumstantially.

AP: Right.

Michael: Yeah.

David: It was sort of by the act of what happened during season one and getting to know Neil and getting to know each other. But the great joy for us is turning up to these wonderful scripts and going, oh, I get to take this character here now. What a lark.

[again, cut out in the video but present in the podcast version

Michael: I mean, I wrote some very stern emails to him.

David: Yeah.

Michael: Which I was glad to see that he totally ignored.

AP: Screen time for me.

Michael: Yes, exactly.

AP: I like to think the 'I was right, or rather, you were right and I was wrong' dance was organic in the moment, not in the script. And could you give us a quick how might I recreate that beautiful...

David: Absolutely not. No. I worked with the choreographer for some days.

Michael: It's true.

David: Yeah.

Michael: It's true. And am I right in saying that... I wonder if this exists? But when we were filming it, didn't I, on the last take, I made you do it once with you thinking that you were doing it for real, but actually it wasn't for real. It was just so I could do.

David: It was so you could have-

Michael: So I could Strictly Come Dancing [british dance contest]-

David: Exactly that. Does it exist? I think it does exist.

Michael: It must have actually built... I had cards made with scores on them and David, God bless him, came in and did the whole thing again, thinking that he was doing it for the filming. And in fact, it was literally just so at the end I could go, 'SEVEEEEEEN'! [It was filmed, hehe, see here :)]

David: Yeah. But I don't want Amazon to think we're wasting your production...

AP: Money and time. No.

David: And it will show up on a blooper reel somewhere.

Michael: There was no film. There was no film.

AP: It was definitely not a waste of time. No, absolutely not.

]

AP: What would you say the fans have responded most to from the first series when you meet them at comic cons or on social media or what have you? Are there moments from the first series where they love talking about that scene?

Michael: Well, I think people really enjoy the going through history stuff, don't they? I mean, we thoroughly.

David: We certainly do. There's just something about the characters and their relationship, though, that seems to have just caught fire. I mean the amount of...

AP :I won’t read some ot the stories I’ve glanced upon.

David: Right.

AP: Yes. Fanfiction is quite….

David: Oh, I see. Oh that is not for us to read.

Michael: Oh I read it all.

AP: Oh you should. You write most of it, right?

Michael: I write most of it.

David: But it's lovely to see. And I have seen more than I can count. Aziraphale and Crowleys showing up. People dressed and always in twos, always in pairs.

Michael: Yes.

David: You know, and that's lovely. And that seems to absolutely encapsulate what the whole show is about, I think.

AP: Tattoos, fan art.

David: Definitely, yes. Seen a couple of tattoos.

Michael: Yeah.

AP: Yeah. Do you get fans in the street quoting lines or just pointing and staring? Because you two together can't really walk down the street.

David: Michael doesn't walk anywhere.

Michael: Those days are long gone.

AP: Jackpack.

David: Yeah.

Micheal: Yeah.

AP: Yeah, that's fair.

Michael: Well, I get a lot of ‘To the world’.

David: Oh, yes. Nice.

Michael: People like to… yeah.

David: Yeah.

Michael: And 'You go too fast, Crowley.’

David: Ooh.

Michael: There’s a lot of that. That gets jumped around.

AP: What about... and this is a kind of BAFTA winning question, so just send it my way.

David: Wow.

AP: Would you say these characters are in your top three most fun characters you've ever played? Because they strike me as being... I'd probably play these characters forever if I could.

Michael and David: Yeah.

Michael: This is like on what's that show when people have to say whether they want to date each other again? You go first. Top three?

David: I mean...

AP: Number two...one?

David: It'd be a weird scenario to say it wasn't.

AP: Yeah, I agree.

David: In this situation.

AP: Yeah.

David: To start something: well, I mean, it's sort in the little twenties. But... No, we did have an irresponsible amount of fun.

Michael: Yes. Not really like working.

AP: No.

Michael: I mean, I very much hope that we eventually get to, in one way or another, in one form or another,

David: Yeah.

Michael: get to play them just very, very old. And it may well be... I mean, we joke about doing a theatrical tour.

AP: And swapping.

David: I'm not joking. I'm not joking about that.

Michael: No.

David: It's a lovely little retirement plan.

Michael: I know.

AP: I'm dead keen on Good Omens 666. I think...

Michael: Oh!

AP: It's just there.

Michael: Yes.

David: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

AP: Think about it. Post apocalyptic...

Michael: Part, like Good Omens 1, 2, 3, all the way up to 666. I mean, that's a long running series. That's longer than Frasier.

AP: Big words. If a bad joke's worth telling. 666.

Michael: Telling over and over again.

AP: Over and over and over.

David: Yeah.

AP: Guys, I'm going to ask you one last favour as I wrap things up, which is I have at the front of this book, one Mr. Neil Gaiman.

[shows a copy of Good Omens signed by Neil Gaiman].

AP: He signed it and he said as he often does: Ali, have a good doomsday. Would you care to deface?

Michael: I heard the other day that someone went to interview George Harrison and the person who interviewed him said, would you mind signing this record? Whatever it know, the white album, whatever. And he went, do you want them all? And they used to all write each other's name, all sign each other's names.

David: Wow.

Michael: Because they had to do it so much.

David: Do you want to do mine?

Michael: Just get Neil to do that.

AP: Could you please sign as your man? I'll be very lucky.

Michael: On a different page.

AP: You pick your own page, deface as you will.

Michael: Yeah. Look at that. I do a little halo.

David: Oh, that's given me an idea.

Michael: Oh look at that, yeah.

AP: And then while I'm here, I'm going to do the super unprofessional thing of asking for a photograph, if that's allowed.

David: Yeah.

Michael: Oh, look at that.

David: That's perfect.

Michael: That's nice, isn't it?

AP: Beautiful. Would you mind helping me out?

David: Do you see what we've done there, Ali?

AP: Oh, thank you!

Michael: And yours is D for...

AP: I'm going to kneel behind you.

David: Sure.

Michael: I thought I should turn my M into wings.

David: Oooh.

Michael: This is, this is...

AP: Guys, as you may have worked out, big fan.

David: Cheers, Ali.

[queers-gambit]

Dinner At The Homesick Restaurant

( a 303-page novel by Anne Taylor )

prompt: behind closed doors, many families have secret turmoil. you experience your boyfriend's with him one fateful Christmas. or how Carmy finally made the decision to get away.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 10.4k+

note: highly recommend the book. also let author write out her stress and trauma please, this was GOING TO get deleted but 10k is a lot of effort so please be kind in what you say.

warnings: spoilers, cursing, toxic family, small hurt and comfort, loving someone despite toxic situations beyond anyone's control, Lord's name in vain, a little of what happens after THAT scene, reader nicknamed Peach.

⚠️ season two, episode six spoilers

"What're you readin', Peach?"

You looked up through the lens of your glasses, smiling at your questioning boyfriend as his bare feet slapped the polished floors of the hotel suite you sought refuge in. You greeted with a soft tease, "Good morning to you, too, sunshine."

"Yeah, yeah. You're right, sorry, hi," he smirked, bending down to kiss your lips in greeting. "Been up long?"

"No, no, just about a chapter or so," you lied, not wanting him to know you've been up for hours out of sheer anxiety. "I made us some coffee, too."

"My perfect girl," he smirked, bending to kiss you again. "Want a refill?"

"I'm okay, thank you." It was quiet for a moment before you heard Carmy fucking around in the kitchen, trying to focus on the novel in your lap, but being most unsuccessful. "Don't forget about tonight," you called in reminder, wondering how to broach the subject before just ripping the Bandaid off.

"What's tonight, again?"

"Carmy."

"I'm kidding," he chuckled, exiting the kitchen to take a seat on the couch at your feet, bringing them onto his lap. "I know, we're gonna go over at, like, 2..."

You nodded absently, seeing the distant look in his eye. "Are you sure it's okay for me to come?" You wondered, nudging him with your foot.

"Hmm?" Carmy looked at you in confusion. "Peach, you've been before, why would it be weird now?"

"I don't know, I wasn't a girlfriend all those times I attended."

"Oh, you're a girlfriend this year? Hmm... To who?"

Your eyes rolled as you pinched him; loving the easy smile on his lips. "Not funny, I'm just trying to be sensitive to all parties," you pouted.

"I know," he allotted, taking a mouthful of coffee before setting his mug down. He started rubbing your feet and ankles, admitting, "I'm a little nervous, I guess..."

"I know."

"It's nice that you'll be there," he nodded, sighing. "They all still give me shit for going away."

"I know, and it's not fair to you," you assured, "you don't deserve that kinda treatment. Say the word, Bear, and we'll skip it."

"Too late now," he wiped his tired eyes. "I need a smoke, Peach."

"I'm gonna hop a shower."

"I'll be in," he smirked, standing with his coffee after gently lifting your feet from his lap. You watched him move for the balcony sans a shirt and frowned when your mind repeated the passage you had just read. Quickly, you opened your book again and read what made your heart so very heavy:

"'You think we're a family,' said Cody, turning back. 'You think we're some jolly, situation-comedy family when we're in particles, torn apart all over the place, and our mother was a witch.'"

The similarities were eery. You saw Carmy light up through the glass door of your rented hotel suite, knowing his family was falling apart and he was powerless to it all; they all were. Carmy, his siblings, any loved ones... You tossed the book on the table, stood, and moved for the balcony.

Carmy leaned on the railing, glancing over shoulder as your arms slithered around his middle. With a kiss to his bare shoulder, you whispered, "I love you, Cream. So much."

He took a long, steadying breath, but replied with full sincerity, "I know, and I love you, too, Peach. So much."

Yeah, that's right, bitches. You were Peaches and Cream. Did it get cuter than that? Didn't think so!

Another kiss to his shoulder and you promised, "I'll be with you the whole time."

"I know."

"You're not alone."

"I know," he sighed. "I just... I know what we're walking into."

"We'll get through it - whatever happens. C'mon, come get a shower with me. It'll save water and shit."

However, you probably used about twice as much because as obvious romp in the glass-stall started. When clean, you both got out, dried off, did your hair, then your make-up; then both getting dressed and ready for one helluva holiday.

On the way, you stopped to pick up flowers for Carmy's mother, Donna, keeping hold of the homemade peach cobbler you had prepared. The whole drive, Carmy kept a possessive hand on your thigh; his nerves showing through as he nervously tapped a rhythm to your flesh. You reminded him to breathe, but he couldn't focus long enough to keep himself regulated.

You tried distracting him with conversation, but nothing stuck for too long. You tried letting a hand thread into his curls, but it didn't soothe him like it usually did.

Arriving, you and Carmy just sat in your car for a long moment. You didn't rush him, you did't speak, you just held his hand with one hand as the other extended to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck; and waited for his move. "All right," he cleared his throat, throwing his cigarette butt out the window before rolling it up and cutting the engine. "You ready?"

"We got this," you assured softly.

"There you are," Carmy smirked, hands catching your waist as you tried to pass through the hall, "thought you ran outa here already."

"We're just warming up," you purred, his chest to your back; your arms crossed to hold onto his engorged biceps. You grinned as your foreheads met for a fleeting moment of peace.

"I'm really happy you're here," he whispered.

"Me, too."

"Love you, Peach."

"Love you, Cream," you sang, making him chuckle a little.

"You know, some of the guys thought you and I finally getting together is all some big cover story."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm," he hummed, snuggling into your embrace as you both found a secular moment of seclusion to get in a much-needed recharge. "Say you're actually dating some hunky Italian model dude."

You hissed between your teeth, "So, so close, but he's actually French."

Carmy chuckled, then took a sobering breath and glanced over his shoulder. "Should get back. I found Mikey and Nat - they were on the front stoop, smoking."

"Good," you mused, turning in his embrace. "Gimme a kiss, please, then you can go," you pouted.

He looked up, then at you with mocking confusion, "But there's no mistletoe."

"I wanna kiss."

He snickered at your pouting, fat lip, leaning in to find your lips with his. There was a brief moment outside of time, space, and reality; and it was when you and Carmy kissed. God, was he a good kisser, albeit a bit wet, but still a damn-good kisser; and you relished every moment of it. His taste was like an intoxication. His hands hot. Smell prickled your sinuses delightfully. Body firm, love warm.

"Ewww," Fak gagged when he saw you two, "get a room, nobody wants to see that! Ugh! God!" He shuffled past you.

"Fak," you snipped, watching him pause.

"Sorry, Peach," he sighed, leaning in to peck your cheek. "You look beautiful as ever."

You hummed, patted his cheek, and then took Carmy's hand to enter the kitchen after Fak where Donna worked frantically. "Hi, Mama, Dee!" You greeted cheerfully, Carmy's hand already sweating.

"Oh! Hi, my baby, Peaches! Oh, good, good, good, you made it!" Donna rushed over to kiss your cheeks, hands held out to not get grease or sauce or fish on you. "You look so beautiful!" She gasped, "Oh, honey, you look - wow! Stunning! Just stunning!"

"Oh, you just like flattering me," you teased, feeling Carmy's hand tighten. "Something smells so fucking amazing - oh, this is going to be a dinner for the books, huh?"

"Who's flattering who now?" She laughed.

"It's not flattery when it's completely true," you laid on thick, hoping the compliments bulked up to fluff her ego enough to save the family from an inevitable breakdown later.

"Did you bring your cobbler?" She asked with glee.

"Of course," you beamed, "I couldn't come here without one, that'd just be criminal!" Donna laughed with you, and you thought now was a good time to ask, "Can I help with anything?"

"What? Oh! No, no, no, honey, Peaches, no, no, no, I just want you to get a drink and go talk - go mingle! It's the holidays!"

You looked at Carmy as she went back to cooking, flabbergasted as to what you could say. "I'm gonna stay, you go - sit," He whispered with pinched brows and nodding his head, rubbing your waist. "Go 'head, baby, it's okay."

"I could peel - "

"It's alright, Peach," he chuckled, pecking your lips. "Go." His lips moved to your ear, "I want you good and drunk by tonight so we can have really dirty sex later, huh?"

"Deal," you purred. "But I can sit over there - "

"Peach."

You glanced at Donna, then at Carmy, whispering, "I just want to help."

"I know, Peach. Not right now though, okay?"

"She likes me, though." He nodded in agreement, looking ready to cave. "Stop trying to get outta this, Carmy, and just accept it," you smirked. "I'm gonna get some wine and be back."

He hummed as you kissed him in parting, and when you exited, missed the way Donna smirked at Carmy, "Can't leave a room without a kiss? Didn't think you'd ever be so possessive, Carmy, honey."

"I'm not, she likes it," he eased. "Here, let me get that," he freed her hands, trying not to snap when she picked up her wine immediately after. Carmen got to work doing what his mother barked at him, but then the Faks came in, and you returned, and then Mikey arrived - it all turning into an overcrowded shit-show.

"Where's the cake!?" Donna worried.

"It's defrosting, Ma," Carmen answered.

"Ma, why don't you let him help you?" Mikey sneered. "It's, like, all he fucking does, he'd be great."

"What was that? Was that, like, a shot?" Carmy snapped.

"Baby, don't, c'mon," you tried, reaching for his waist to curl your fingers so he felt your long nails. Not too hard, just enough to assure him you had ahold of him.

But Carmen couldn't let it go, even when his mother tired to diffuse the siblings. He snarled at his older brother, "I'm the guy that does food. You're the guy that what? Y-Y-You, uh, start a hundred different businesses and have zero follow-through."

"Carmy, don't," you tried, but it was lost to the sea of voices all talking at once.

But his brother was antagonizing, his mother deflecting, and he snapped, "This is why - This is why I didn't wanna come home, why I didn't wanna bring Peaches home to you all."

You remained silent when his mother snapped, "Oh, fuck you!"

"What the fuck!? What!?"

"Why the fuck would you say that?" Donna snarled.

"It's fuckin' Christmas," Mikey tacked on. They both over lapped one another, and Carmy felt backed into a corner.

"Not in front of my girl, man, fuck," Carmy had snipped at them.

"Say the fuckin' words!"

Carmy paused, then answered, "I love you, guys."

His mother was pleased and kissed his cheek, going back to cooking as Mikey kissed Carm's head. He looked over at you, mutely taking your outstretched hand to give a squeeze for each count to five; regulate his breathing, and then nodding in assurance he was okay. He went back to doing whatever his mother directed. Before he could slip away, you leaned into his ear, whispering, "I'm gonna step out."

"Good," he nodded, glancing back at his mom - but Donna was distracted. "I'll find you soon," he promised, pecking your lips before you exited the kitchen.

"Hey! Hey, Peach!"

"Hi, Mikey," you smiled, looking up at him when you paused outside the kitchen.

"Listen, uh... I just, uh... Look, I know I put you in a weird position," he sighed, hand to the back of his neck.

"How so?"

"By callin' you... Textin' you..."

"You want to check on Carmy," you sighed, "and you're as good as my real brother, so, I don't mind."

"It feels wrong since, you know, y'all are together now or somethin'."

"Mikey," you eased, "I was your guys' friend first, then I was family, and then I was Carmy's girlfriend. If you need your friend or your sister, I'm here, but if you need Carmy's girlfriend, I'll have to tell him. Get it?"

He chuckled, "I knew you'd understand."

"All too well," you eased.

"He doin' all right...?"

"He will be. He's just," you took a pause to sigh, "really tired and stressed. He works really hard, Mikey... Like really, really hard. Like you wouldn't believe."

"Nah, I know, Peaches, I know."

"Might be nice for him to hear that sometimes."

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!"

You apologized and had to leave Michelle when you heard Carmen's elevated voice, excusing yourself to look around the corner and spot your boyfriend in some heated argument with his brother and his brothers best friend, who they called Cousin, Richie Jerimovich. You were about to step in when you froze, hearing the argument without the guys realizing you were standing there.

"Seriously?" Mikey laughed. "You seriously think you're gonna keep a girl like Peach? Man, we all know this is some bullshit fling, but seeing Claire Bear - Man Alive!"

"That doesn't even make sense!" Carmy snapped.

"Oh, c'moonnnn, Carmy," Richie groaned, "look, I love her, I do, but we all know there ain't no way Peach is, like, girlfriend material. She's still sowing her wild oats, you know, just, fuckin' around and shit!"

"Fuck did you say!?" Carmy snarled, lunging for Richie but being caught by Fak's faster hands. "Huh!? The fuck did you just say!? Callin' my girl a slut? Fuck are you on about - "

"No, I ain't say - "

"Better watch your fucking mouth," Carm growled, "and learn to respect our relationship 'cause neither of us are goin' anywhere. Peach is here to stay - like it or not - and she's here to stay with me!"

"But you had such the crush on Claire - "

"I had a crush on Peach, too!"

"But Claire - "

"Nothing about Claire, Jesus, fuck! I don't need y'all fucking meddling! Peach and i are good, fuck you doin' set me up with some other chick!? I don't want nobody else - I got the girl of my fuckin' dreams, fuck you guys doin' tryna ruin that!?"

"We're just tryna help you, man, talk you up, man! Fuck! Don't gotta sound so ungrateful - "

"You don't need to! You don't need to talk me up to anybody, you fuckin' idiots! I have Peach! I don't need you to talk me up because I'm good, okay? I'm good. I got Peach, I'm committed to her, so don't try to talk me up to anyone for any fucking reason - good intentions or not!"

"Y'all aren't even serious!" Mikey laughed loudly. "C'mon! Peach isn't a relationship kinda girl, ain't no way you're thinkin' y'all are gonna last or be some, like, serious thing. You're just bored! But we're telling you, man, Carmy, you don't gotta be anymore, 'cause Claire Bear is - "

"Not my fucking girl!" Carm snapped, temper loosening. "Fuck off! Ain't got nothing decent to say - then just shut the fuck up!"

They called Steven in and you panicked for a millisecond before evening your stride to look like you just arrived. "Hey," you smiled to the lads, "what's all the yelling about? Jesus Christ, it's like a holiday at my house when Meemaw comes to visit."

"I told you," Carmy's attitude directed at you, making you feel disarmed, "these assholes don't respect our relationship, they were trying to set me up with someone else."

You offered the others a stale look as your hand latched to Carmy's, sounding like a scolding mother, "Real mature, you guys. That's wildly disrespectful and it's hard not to take it personally."

"We don't mean it in a bad way, Peach," Richie sighed, "just that there's other options and neither of you have to settle."

"'Settle'?" Carmy laughed, and you had to readjust your stance to prevent him from charging. "You're forgetting Peach did whatever she could to make us work, she was loyal when none of y'all could bother answering the phone, and she always held me down. And then, when I was finally good, I promised her we could come home. So, you jagoffs owe her your thanks that we're even home this Christmas."

"None needed," you smiled, wanting to start screaming yourself but holding back for the sake of Carmen. "I'm sure their jealousy keeps them warm at night, who am I to take that from them by having them apologize?"

"Don't do that," Mikey groaned. "Get all high and mighty."

"How have I ever? You're the assholes shitting on your brother for having a girlfriend. Just 'cause you've all thought about me when self-pleasuring, doesn't mean take your jealousy out on our relationship."

The argument started up again, sighing as you didn't engage but instead tried to hold your boyfriend back when he bared his teeth at a few comments hurled at you both. You flinched away when Mikey started reaching for Carmy to physically pick at him, inciting his anger; making him snap back to not "fucking touch" him.

"Mikey, please," you tried to stave off, but Richie reached out and lugged a heavy arm around your shoulders. "Richie, for fuck's sake. C'mon, just fuck off. Mikey, don't fucking touch him - c'mon, guys!"

"Awh, you get so defensive for him, it's so cute," Richie laughed, jostling you a little as Mikey and Carmy still snapped and snarled at each other in the way only siblings could.

"'Cause y'all don't know how to fuckin' stop," you pushed Richie off you. But then...

"HEY!"

You flinched when a wooden spoon flew through the air to hit Stevie, who yelped in shock from the sting. "Hey! What the fuck?" He looked up and asked, "Auntie D, did you just throw a spoon at me?"

"Yeah, I did," Donna snarled, hanging in the doorway. "You, Richard, bring her the pop - "

"Deedee - "

"You, Carmen, I need you!"

This triggered another avalanche of voices to overlap one another. You moved towards Carmy as Mikey approached his mother, hearing Richie tell Carmen, "We're not done about this Claire Bear thing."

"Yes, you fucking are," you snapped, pushing Richie a half-step back. "Fuck off, Cousin, you're taking this too far."

"I only meant - "

"We all know what y'all mean, but go fuck yourself! We're happy, now either accept that or fuck off 'cause you're not gonna come between us. Go, goodbye, go, go, go tend to your pregnant wife - go, goodbye, fuck you," he tried to talk over you, sounding amused, "Merry Christmas, I love you and shit, but fuck you, go away."

He backed off as Stevie left the room, allowing you to turn for Carmy as he leaned on the arm of an armchair. His head shook and reached for you, bringing you in closer until his head rested on your stomach and his arms coiled in a vice grip. You frowned and thread your fingers through his hair, hearing his mother starting up another tangent about needing Carmen. With a sigh, he looked up at you, "Thank you."

"Hmm?"

"For just being here," he whispered. "I'm sorry about them."

"They're breaking your balls, baby," you smiled, curling his curls behind his ears. "C'mon, we should go help your mama."

Carmy sighed and stood to his feet, "You don't have to stay."

"But then how will I know you're okay?" You pouted, watching him smile and wrap his arms around your waist.

"I'm sorry about them," he whispered. "They don't - they don't know what the fuck they're talking about."

"It's okay," you matched his tone, ignoring your own burning-hot emotions. "They're just jealous."

He nodded, hearing his mother snarl something else about needing him; making Carmy sigh. His lips found yours in a slow kiss, pausing to lean his forehead on yours, "Really grateful you're here with me, Peach."

"Nowhere else I'd rather be, Cream," you grinned, starting to lead him back towards the kitchen.

"Hang on," he paused you, glancing around to see nobody lingering. "You know I love you, Peach, right?"

"And you know I'm very serious about this relationship, Carmy, right?"

He rested against you, breathing, "I know." Then his lips spread in a grin, "Gonna marry you one day, Peach."

"Good," you teased, but being honest, "because I can't see spending my life with anyone else but you, Cream. I mean, who else has a family this entertaining?"

He laughed as he followed after you.

"Help me, Peach, please, Goddamn it," Donna grunted, trying to lift a heavy, full cast iron pot. "There we go," she mused when you gabbed the other end to put it back on the burner. You didn't comment that it was the same pot she had Carmy move earlier, just doing as she asked.

She only let you in the kitchen because of Carmy.

Speaking of... "Behind, baby," Carmy muttered, a hand ghosting your waist as he moved. Sugar appeared and you only tried to minimize yourself as eight different timers were ringing for any unknown fucking reason.

Donna sent Carmy off to get saltines for a pregnant, nauseous Tiff, leaving you three women. "Oh!" Donna gasped, "You're almost empty! Here, here, Peach, here you go!" She cheered when she saw your nearly-empty wine glass. Sugar sent you a long look, and you knew this was eating her alive to watch her mother like this; but you hoped you were enough of a buffer for them.

A few minutes later, Donna asked if you could go grab another bottle of wine for you two to share. You froze, between a rock and a hard place; knowing you shouldn't but not wanting to upset the host. You had once done the same with your own mother, perhaps being a reason you didn't go home for holidays.

"Yeah, of course, one second, Miss Lady," you told Donna, sending a confused look to Sugar.

When you walked out, you nearly ran straight into Carmy. "Shit," he breathed, "sorry, baby, didn't mean to run into you like."

"It's okay, but where you goin', speed racer?"

"Mikey's gift," he actually grinned, watching you return his excitement after knowing how much thought he put in.

"You know we're doing exchanges later," you laughed lightly, watching him go. Finding the wine rack, you selected a bottle, and returned to the kitchen where Donna and Sugar were bickering. "Here," you smiled, setting the bottle down to uncork it.

"Thank you, honey," Donna purred, accepting your pour. When she turned for the stove again, you winked at Sugar and discreetly tipped the wine bottle over into the sink to drain it until it was about a quarter way full. "Carm? Where the fuck are my saltines?" She yelled.

When he returned, he gave his mother what she needed before approaching you. "Wanna take a break?" He mumbled.

"Dinner doesn't make itself, baby," you teased.

"Hmm," he hummed, pecking your neck, "I'm gonna run Tiff up some crackers."

You continued your work for several long minutes, when suddenly, Donna pulled one of the seven fishes from the oven. She turned, set it on the counter, but stumbled last second to accidentally knock her wine glass over. The shattering made both Sugar and Donna swear. You wanted to help, but Sugar was already on the floor trying to clean, causing Donna to seethe, "It's like I fuckin' have to do everything for everyone." You and Natalie tried to assure her, but she spoke over any reassurance, "No one fucking lifts a finger to help me."

"Look, I'm getting it right now!"

Donna leered over her daughter, making you freeze, "Can you just go upstairs and get Dad's gun out of my drawer," she held her thumb and pointer finger like a gun, muzzle to her temple, "and I think I'm just gonna blow my fuckin' brains out, and then you guys can make dinner - " Sugar tried to speak over her mother but was unsuccessful, "because I don't think anyone would fuckin' miss me!"

Natalie sobbed as she tried to say anything other than "No! You're okay!" When the older woman gabbed her daughter's cheeks in a pinching-hold, you felt like throwing up as the scene - the words - the actions - it was all too familiar to you. They still yelled over one another, but then, Steven entered the kitchen and disturbed them all.

He only got to greet, "Hey, Donna, Mama D - "

Before Donna screeched at him, "Oh, motherfucking asshole!"

"Out, out, out," You ushered, gently directing Stevie to the door; Sugar repeating what you said as Donna still snarled and yelled and insulted and cursed.

"Get the fuck out!"

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," you whispered when you pushed him out the door. "Thank you for offering, but we got it - it's okay."

You sniffled as Sugar collected the trash and promised to take it out; one of the timers ringing. Donna looked lost and confused as Sugar left, the matriarch whispering, "What's that for?"

"Is it the flounder?"

She didn't answer, lost in her mind, yet muttering, "Nobody would fuckin' miss me."

"Mama D?" You called, watching her startle back into reality. "Is that timer for the flounder?"

"Oh! Right! Yes!" She clapped, pointing at you, "And that's why you're my favorite, Peach. Tell you what," she scoffed, shaking her head, "don't you ever have kids. They fuckin' ruin everything, never show gratitude, never bother to help their fucking mother."

"Well, I'm not thinking about kids yet," you chuckled softly, hoping to distract her. "Still got a lot more life to live before that."

"Just don't do it," she spat. "Even with a sweet boy like Carmy, kids just ruin relationships. Marriage ain't no better, either. What - where's the fucking bread?"

"Here," you sighed, showing her the bread basket.

"Hey," Carmy entered the kitchen, looking exhausted, "can I talk to you for a second, Peach?"

"If your Mama doesn't need me," you nodded, not wanting to tell him too much about what you witnessed.

"I need you everyday, honey," she spoke softly, leaning in to peck your cheek, "but it's fine, it's fine - I don't need help. Go with Carmy. Go, go, go, go."

"Holler if you need us," you smiled, "even if it's just for hot gossip."

"My girl," she teased gently with a wink.

"C'mon," Carmy muttered, taking your hand, and leading you out a side door. He glanced around a few times, finally finding a secluded part of the house. When he came to a halt, you did too, and he sighed as his hands took your waist, "Sugar told me to come rescue you. Said something happened with Mom and I should check on you? The hell happened?"

You shrugged, "Just... Sometimes I forget what family feels like. I left mine for a multitude of reasons, maybe I feel like I fit in better with you Berzatto's. Mama D just got frustrated, and it reminded me of my mom. I wasn't scared, but I think I was triggered."

He nodded, "You need a break."

"I'm okay, I promise."

"You're not," he sighed. "You shouldn't be on the frontlines against her. Okay? It's too stressful for anyone and I need you with me. I need you whole. You know? Need you intact for me, and Ma's only gonna rip you to shreds."

You pouted, "I just... I thought if I helped, she'd feel calmer, maybe save you guys from taking her shit. We used to cook all the time together..."

Carmen sighed, reaching for your cheek to caress your jaw, "You really are a sweetheart." Carmy leaned in and claimed a kiss from your lips, making you both sigh in contentment. When he pulled back, Carmy whispered, "I love you, Peach."

"I love you, too, Bear."

"Carmy!"

He whined, deflating on your shoulder at his mother's cry. "Holidays are almost over, baby. Gotta hang on for a bit, I need you intact, too."

You parted ways, Carmy returning to the kitchen as you meandered around the rest of the rooms, peaking into each of them. "Hey!" Someone cheered, making you look up to a separate doorway leading to a sitting room.

"Oh, shit, hey, Pete!"

"Peaches!"

"Just Peach!"

He laughed and accepted your hug, "Merry Christmas! Happy holidays, seasons greetings, warm tidings, and shit."

"You, too," you cooed, glancing at the tin in his hand. "Oh... Y-You brought something?"

Pete blinked as the room snickered. "Yeah? It's... It's tuna casserole."

"And you brought fish... Why?"

"'Cause it's the Feast of Seven Fishes - "

"And by bringing tuna, it'd be eight fishes."

He sighed, "Yep, so I keep being told."

"I mean, good intentions, honey, but wildly misplaced," you winced. "Probably shouldn't let Carmy see..."

And of course, when you said that, your boyfriend came from behind to clap his hands and call, "Hey, family!" He tried to announce dinner but Pete was too happy to cheer loudly and greet your lover. "Woah, woah, woah. What the fuck is that?" Carmy demanded when he saw the aluminum dish tin.

"Don't tell him," Michelle voted.

"What do you mean, 'don't tell him?'" Mikey followed.

"It's nothin', it's nothin', I - "

"Peach," Carmy looked at you, making you freeze, "what is this? What is that? Peach, the hell is that?"

"Um, well," you tried to smile in reassurance, taking his stiff hand, "you know, you're gonna get mad, but Pete's heart was in the right place."

From behind, "Uncle" Lee told Carmy, "It's a tuna casserole."

You saw the way Carmy locked in on Pete, taking a half-step back but not letting go of his hand. "It's seven fishes, Pete," Carmy snapped. It started a new wave of slander. By the end, his hand was clamped around yours in a vice, leading you through the room and telling Pete, "Just don't let her see. Don't let her see!"

"Dinner," you reminded the room, following Carmy as Sugar passed to approach her husband.

"Wanna help me dress the desserts table?"

You nodded in agreement, and together, you and Carmy brought out all kinds of dishes to leave on the table. You were bringing out the peach cobbler you brought when you caught the tail-end of whatever Michelle was telling Carmy. "That's so nice," you interrupted, moving between the two to set down the cobbler, "offering up your place like that, but we have one."

Her head cocked, asking in interest, "You do?"

"My family does," you nodded.

"Well, think about what I said," Michelle told Carmy. "Would love to see you guys in the city," she smirked at you.

"Yeah, all right, sure," he agreed. When she left, you turned on your boyfriend with confusion, but he only sighed, "She was recommending I get away from this family-drama bullshit."

You shrugged, "Not a half-bad idea."

"We'll see..."

"Carmy," you frowned, "we'll do whatever is best and right for us. Okay? Nothing more or less."

"I hear you," he muttered.

"And I just got confirmation that we can use the apartment in Manhattan," you told him. "So, whenever we're ready to go, we can go, okay? We don't have to shack up in a hotel room for much longer."

"I don't mind it," he eased. "I'll make a decision... I'll make a decision by this weekend about New York, okay?" You agreed, him looking over your shoulder before taking your hand. "Dinner's on," he reminded, feeling your hand snake around his waist to rest; letting his arm raise to accommodate you, latch around your shoulders, continuing forward to the dining room.

However, before entering, you pulled Carmy to a halt. "Hey, hey," you smiled, turning him to face you, "I'm really proud of you for coming home. I know it's not easy, but you're so brave for going through this."

"'Brave'?" He scoffed.

"Brave," you agreed, nodding. "People associate it with knights slaying dragons, but in my opinion, it takes far more bravery to stand up to family than it is a stranger. Takes more bravery to confront those that haunt your home than it does to confront a literal dragon. Hmm?"

Carmy reached a hand out to curl a strand of hair behind your ear. "How'd you get so insightful?"

"That bullshit college you, Mikey, and Richie all roasted me about going to them years ago? Yeah, uh-huh, that education paid off."

"Didn't do shit for your grammar, though, did it?"

"Hush," you laughed, pinching his sides to make his squirm.

You and Carmen entered the dining room to see mostly everyone in their seats; slowly making it to your own on the other side of the table. "Here, Peach," Natalie smiled when you sat between her and Carmy; her at the head of the table. "Got you a refill," she set your wine glass in front of you.

"You're a literal angel."

"I have a question," Cicero addressed your half of the table as Carmy got up to check on his mother. "I heard why we call Sugar, Sugar, but where did the nickname 'Peach' come from?"

"Oh," you smiled at him, "Miss Mama Dee taught me to bake and helped me perfect this peach cobbler recipe. I brought it to all my family events, work events, and when I attended, all my school events. Since then, it just stuck as a name."

He hummed and nodded, offer a silent toast with his glass as Carmy returned - looking mildly startled.

You heard Michelle asking if she could start the process to dish up what she wanted to her plate, Carmy assuring her to wait until Donna; she was coming out at any minute. You leaned back in your chair, nuzzling your boyfriend's side; his hand latching around your upper knee to keep you close with you hugging his arm. "All right?" He mumbled, glancing down at you.

"Are you?"

"Mhm."

"What'd your mom say?" You whispered, feeling him stiffen. "Carmen, please..."

"She's upset, stressed; says nobody cares, nobody makes shit beautiful," he whispered frantically.

"Okay," you soothed in his ear, "just breathe, baby, I need you to breathe. Shh," his head was bowed so you pecked his cheek, "she's just stressed from the holidays. We all know how she gets."

He sighed and nodded, caressing the skin of your leg he had been gripping tightly. "Hey, Mikey?" Michelle asked sweetly.

"Yeah?"

"You wanna say grace?"

Mikey gave an awkward sort of chuckle, relenting, "I don't know, cousin. This motherfucker gonna cut me off?"

You blinked and reached for your wine, intrigue peaking. Uncle Lee, who the jab was directed at, cleared his throat and answered, "It depends. Uh, is it a grace we've heard a million times before?"

"Okay, okay," Cicero stepped in.

You offered, "Well, good Christians know the prayers 'cause they're said a million times, right? Huh?"

"Yeah!" There was another round of agreement, desperate to direct the attention away from the two men.

"Does that mean you wanna lead grace, Peach?" Jimmy asked.

"Oh, no, no, I think the honor should go to Stevie."

"Can I please not?" Steve blanched at the thought of public speaking.

His wife, Cousin Michelle, changed the subject by asking about the Feast of Seven Fish. Before you or anyone else could truly answer, Uncle Lee was overpowering everyone to give his explanation; trying to make a joke at the end about a Dutch oven by Baby Jesus' manger that burned him or something. You gasped when Mikey lobbed a fork at him, making a buzzer noise while he did.

"Oh," Carmy realized when you did, stretching his arm out to extend over you like a seatbelt; fork clattering to the floor.

"Did you just throw a fork at me!?"

"I did!" Mikey sang, chuckling to himself. "See, that's the thing, Lee, see, 'cause... Y-You see what you did, right? You remember you already bitched about the Dutch oven. See, you did that before."

"Michael," Cicero tried to diffuse, but Mike was deflecting like usual.

"And you fucking cut Peach off," Mikey snarled. "Trying to prove you're the smartest, right? Wanna answer a question that she'd answer the best? Last I checked, she studied different religions in college, so, why the fuck would you want to answer - instead of Peach - if not to just make a repeated, shitty joke?"

It made Carmy now bark, "Mike, hey, don't bring Peach in this, okay? Please, just - just chill out."

But Lee was just getting started. He was scolding Michael, and in the process, stuttered just a bit, but it was enough of a visible weakness. Mike started mocking Lee for his words and delivery, just angry at the 'uncle' without knowing directly what truly bothered himself. In fact, riding high on his angry adrenaline, Mikey looked over and asked for Fak's fork, but the tattooed family-friend wasn't too willing to hand it over; hoping this would pass and settle.

Mikey just reached for Fak's fork himself, promising he just wanted to borrow it. Yet he launched it in the air to throw at Lee again, the entire table voicing their discomfort and displeasure. Everyone tried to diffuse the tension; desperate to muddle the tension enough so it did not, at the least, escalate.

"Carmy," you worried, holding his protective arm, "we should do something. I can get Mikey out of here - "

"No," he muttered sharply, "you don't need to be so physically close to that kind of behavior."

You felt the air shift when Mikey told Lee he could throw forks if he wanted to because they were in his father's house. The tension brewed and your boyfriend looked more and more uncomfortable; leaning into his side enough to get him to do the same and lean into you while both sat rigidly.

Now Lee lit into Mikey in front of everyone about how he was living with his mother still, borrowing money from her and anyone else who listened to Mikey's "bullshit". Now Cicero was pushing back at Lee, not appreciating the turn of events after being labeled a "sucker" by Lee only moments prior.

However, Mikey stepped back in, assuring Cicero it was "fine" that he wanted to mouth off - and Lee angrily repeated it. But he was far from being over; starting a new tangent, calling Mikey a loser. Then he started to throw the man's drug use in his face, telling Mikey to look through the fog and understand that there'd be consequences if he threw another fork.

It was quiet.

Nobody said a word as they all waited for Mikey's reaction. Carmen appeared on high alert, waiting for someone to make a move in case he had to jump in. Mikey asked Pete for his fork, picking it up, and creating a new tidal wave of voices all begging Michael not to do shit. To put the fork down. To not do a fucking thing. Over all the voices, it was Sugar's that cut above; reminding her brother she loved him, begging him not to do this.

Stevie giggled nervously, apologizing for it - claiming he giggled when uncomfortable. But Mikey encouraged him NOT to apologize, to fucking giggle and, "enjoy this," 'cause, "this is fun!"

You were so fucking nervous for whatever was to come.

Carmy's one arm was extended over you, the other crossed over his own body to hold your hand through the arm of the chair he sat in. Cicero tried to diffuse everything, Carmy's voice snapping support; but nothing was truly registering in Mikey's brain. In fact, he stood, and Lee flinched when he moved as if to throw the fork; guffawing at and mocking the man's reflexes. This only created an opening for Lee to, again, take shots at Mike's drug use; claiming his flinch was a reflex, something someone had when their nerve endings weren't fried - like a junkie's. Naturally, it caused an entirely new fight.

One where, during which, Mike brayed and screeched like an animal; and by the end, it was Lee telling Michael to throw the fucking fork so he had an excuse to rock his shit. At this point, you were ready to scream and support the violent display if just to get this over with. Lee snarled and repeated that Mikey was "nothing", and for a moment, you thought all hell was about to break loose.

Yet you wouldn't ever know. "There she is," Cicero clapped, directing the attention towards Donna as she entered at long last. You looked at Carmy and squeezed his hand, leaning in to quickly peck his lips in reassurance. The table clapped for their drunk host, watching her dance to her seat with a full glass of wine and burning cigarette; asking them all what she missed.

"I missed something," she grinned. "Peaches? What'd I miss?"

"Hmm? Oh, uh," you cleared your throat, "we were just discussing the tradition of the Feast of Seven Fishes."

"Boo," she pouted.

"Actually, Ma, Stevie, uh, Stevie was about to say grace," Mikey deflected.

"Not Peach, who studied religion?" Lee mocked.

"Oh, honey, that would be so cool," Donna nodded at you.

"I think I'd like to hear Stevie's prayer," you smiled, "but if he fucks it up, I'll take over."

Donna giggled before sniffling and composing herself while Michelle reassured her husband enough to encourage him to lead the family prayer. You half-listened, distracted by your boyfriend's body language. His hand still held yours, but now, he was sitting up with the other hand covering his mouth. The table was shockingly quiet as Stevie spoke, everyone listening; liking his impromptu speech about love, family, holidays, and bears.

By the end, everyone was softly complimenting the man; his wife hugging him; Mikey even voicing a compliment. However, you were distracted by Donna's reaction as she sniffled her tears, wiped her face, and took deep, dramatic sighs. Cicero laid his hand on her shoulder in comfort, but Donna picked up her cig and muttered, "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter."

"Oh, Donna," Michelle cooed.

"It doesn't," she whispered.

As the table took turns trying to assure Donna that everything was gorgeous, you noticed the rigid way Carmy sat. "Baby," you whispered, watching him glance at you before leaning back a bit and wrapping his arm around you in an effort to remain close. However, before anyone could do anything, Sugar was asking those two words that triggered her mother:

"You okay?"

"Oh, my God," a few people muttered softly, Carmy and Mikey looking the most distraught by her words. Your lips pursed in nerves, watching Donna like a ticking time bomb; Carmy's hand sweating, leaving you anxious.

"Oh, Natalie," Donna sneered, "Rose Berzatto, do you know how much I fucking hate when you ask me that?"

"Okay," Sugar whispered, bowing her head, averting her eyes.

"Do you know," Donna enunciated, "how much I fucking hate - "

"Let's go upstairs."

" - that you have to do that!"

"Okay," Sug whispered again.

"D-Do you ask the rest of these people if they're okay?"

"No."

"N - " Donna stuttered, revving up. "Do I not look okay, Natalie?"

"Not really," Michelle answered as if without thought she had verbalized it, shaking her head.

You wanted to step in, you did; you own mother was an unmedicated, raging narcissistic, bipolar maniac with a drinking problem. You knew how to handle people like this... But this wasn't your fight, this wasn't your family; you were a mere guest, there to support your boyfriend in any way you could.

Donna glared at Michelle as Sugar offered to go upstairs again. However, the matriarch snapped, "Oh, fuck you, Michelle."

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," Carmy tried to rein his mother in.

"I didn't mean it like - "

"Do I not look okay? Did I not just bust my ass all day for you motherfuckers!?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Michelle rushed, looking down - like the others.

"This!" Donna stood, both hands gesturing to the table, "Is beautiful! Am I okay!?" She whipped around to glare at her daughter. "Am I okay!?" And then... She glared at you, "Well, let's ask, are you okay, Peach? Huh? Are you okay not having family invite you around for the holidays so you come here to fill a void and overcompensate by inserting yourself where you're not even wanted?"

You froze, brows furrowing. What had you done to deserve this unprovoked attack? You were used to it from your own mother, but that was because you were her child and it was an easy attack. This, however, was someone without blood relation laying into you about some deeper-seeded insecurities. Sure, you missed your family, but they were wildly unpredictable, unsupportive, unwelcoming, judgmental, harsh, and constantly at your throat about things that they had no business having an opinion on in the first place. It was better you stayed away - something Carmy still had to reassure you about, so to hear his mother use it against you stung beyond words.

"Hey, hey, woah," Cicero tried, Mikey voicing his own displeasure, but Carmy's was the most prominent.

"Don't bring Peach into this, Ma, please - "

"Are you motherfuckers okay!?" Donna screeched, silencing them all. "Are you okay, Lee?" She mocked. "You didn't do shit! This is fucking gorgeous!" She glared around the table she had gestured at, then, picked up a plate as she roared, "FUCK!" Then she smashed the plate to the floor, "YOU!"

You didn't flinch when you heard the shatter, instead, reaching a hand up to hold Carmy's cheek and keep him turned from the sight. One of his hands held your elbow, a way he communicated to assure you that he liked your touch.

"Fuck you!" Donna directed at the table again. Then, she muttered and pointed at Sugar, "Fuck you." Donna made her exit, sobbing, "Fuck you, Natalie."

The door slammed and you were left in a tense, ear-ringing silence. Slowly, your hand drifted off Carmy's cheek to just sit in silence, both your hands holding his. Nobody was sure what to say, and frankly, nobody wanted to be the first who broke the silence...

Until Lee exhaled deeply and opened his mouth - like he was some prominent member of the family, "Well, I guess we all knew that was gonna happen. So it's out, and, uh, maybe everybody - everybody can relax, huh?"

Your head shook.

"Yeah, that's, uh... That's the worst I've ever seen her," Michelle noted.

You wanted to snap that the mentally ill deserved kindness and respect like every other person. Perhaps they require a different sort of understanding, but you know what? Humans are humans for many reasons, one being the ability to empathize, and it wouldn't kill them all to try and offer Donna more understanding.

Especially in times of high stress!

However, nobody got to comment because Mikey let his temper flare from Lee's words. He picked up Pete's fork and lobbed it at an unsuspecting Uncle Lee; the metal utensil clattering to the floor, making Lee immediately snap, "You fuckin' piece of shit!"

Mikey rose to meet the challenge, purposefully overturning the poker table used as an extension off the "main" table; sending everything shattering to the floor as the Fak Brothers had to hold either enraged man back. It was a frenzy: Mikey and Lee yelling, Brothers holding them back, Cicero, Michelle, and Steve standing to get away from the fight as Cousin Richie directed pregnant Tiff to go with Uncle Jimmy.

Carmy rose, too, but you shot out of your chair, pleading over the noise, "Don't, please, not you."

He sighed at you, remaining put as you watched the escalated fight wage in the dining room. Richie was caught in the middle, trying to retain space between the feuding men; but it was all so very surreal due to Mikey just literally screaming to make himself feel big, bad, and heard. All of a sudden, in the very next room, there came a distant scream before a fucking car came barreling through the living room wall.

You had flinched into Carmy out of shock, and for a moment, nobody even so much as fucking breathed. Mikey was the first, approaching the car and begging for his mother to open the door; asking her what she had done; to please open the fucking door. Sugar remained seated, rooted in her spor; Carmy only moving like a zombie to get a better look - not believing his eyes. Everyone else was in shock and you just felt something click into place in your heart, mind, and gut.

No, you mother had never driven a car through the house, but you weren't a stranger to dramatic displays.

"Okay, okay," you cleared your throat, slipping past Carmy to moved for Mikey. "Hey, hey, hey, hey," you caught hold of him, pulling him off the vehicle, "you need to step back, okay? I'm gonna get it open, I'll get her to a hospital."

"No cops," Richie snapped.

"No cops," you agreed, "hence why I'll take her."

Mikey only shuffled when you stepped up, picked up a brick from the rubble, and with pristine accuracy and strength, shattered the back, drivers side window. Moving swiftly, you reached around to unlock the driver's door - yelping when Donna literally bit you.

"Fuck's sake, stop biting!" You snapped, unlocking the door and wrenching your arm free as you opened the door at the same time. "Donna, hey, hey, hey," you knelt, "you hurt? Hey, Donna, it's Peach, c'mon, I need you to tell me if you're hurt!"

She only cackled manically as she tried to stave you off.

You steeled yourself and lifted up only to keep at a bend so you could scoop Donna out. She started thrashing and you had to set her down, groaning, letting Mikey step in.

"She needs to get checked out right now," you told him.

"C'mon," Jimmy agreed as he stepped up, "I'll drive."

Mikey nodded in agreement and carried his mother out of the house, allowing you to sit in the car and shut it off. When you stood and looked around, there was still a heavy air of shock. Glancing at the damage behind you, you figured maybe you could back the car out so you could start cleaning.

"Richie, why don't you take Tiff home, I'm sure she's exhausted," you recommended softly.

"Nah, I'll help clean," he told you.

"Sure?"

"Yeah," he sniffled.

"Mind helping me get the car, you know, out of the living room?"

"Tell me what to do, baby girl."

Richie drove as you sat passenger, directing him; the two of you working to get the car in reverse and out of the wall. You got out to direct him the rest of the way, and left the car in the garage. When you got back in, you noticed that Sugar and Carmy were both gone, and you went into what your boyfriend called "Mama Bear Mode."

Tiff was allowed to rest upstairs, Michelle and Stevie left, and the Fak's left to go get you tarps and other equipment from their house since all stores were closed. You went outside and fought the cold to grab a wheelbarrow from the community garden shed about half a block away, and bringing it to the hole. Richie grabbed some snow shovels and dust pans and brooms, and together, you got to work on cleaning. It took the better part of a 3ish hours, things going a little faster when the Faks returned; helping pick up, sweep, and dump the material out of the house. They brought ladders and huge tarps, getting up to the wall to start installing the material to prevent the horrendous draft sure to come in.

Several times, the boys told you to sit - but you couldn't. So, you worked. And when it was done, you let the men to sweep the remains as you noticed the dining room still in disarray. Any layers of clothing you wore were shed, hair pulled off your neck and away from your face; preparing for the longest clean-up job you'd know.

You stored all food, organized the dirty dishes with the ones in the kitchen still, then worked on clearing space. The table was freed and you took advantage to lay out some bath towels, then getting to work. The reason you had organized the dishes was because you could wash all plates and set them in the drying rack; when done, you'd use a separate towel to dry the dishes and stack them on the dining room table.

Same for all saucers, utensils, glasses - water cups, wine glasses, and anything someone used for a stronger liquor.

Your feet ached, back protested, ears rang with the aftermath of the night. Richie took Tiff home, the Faks heading out as well; leaving you alone in the Berzatto house with only Carmy and Sugar.

You still worked so they wouldn't have to later.

Dishes stacked on the table, your fingertips pruned from the water, the sink decently filthy from food-waste. You didn't notice the time had passed until a pair of arms came wrapping around your waist - making you jump from being startled. But the tattoos on the hand was enough to assure you the man's identity; lips finding purchase on the slope of your neck and shoulder.

"You don't have to do this," Carmy whispered.

"I'm almost done," you promised, setting another bowl to the rack. "Where you been?"

"With Sugar. She was pretty upset, so, Pete and I were with her."

You nodded, "Good. She okay now?"

"She's asleep."

"You should be, too."

"You know I don't like sleeping without you," he sighed, and you felt his frown. "I'm... I'm really sorry."

"For what?"

"For us coming this year."

"I'm not," you promised. "It's okay, we'll take it in stride."

"It shouldn't be like this."

"No, it shouldn't. You deserve better, Carmy," you whispered, leaning back into his embrace - his arms tightening. "Heard from Mikey?"

"Yeah, he said the ER was still running a few tests," he sighed. "Might be another hour or more."

You nodded, "Gimme another few minutes and I'll be done."

"No, you won't," he chuckled. "Lemme help."

"Wanna dry?"

"Got me doin' dishes again, huh?" He smirked.

You matched it, "Take you back to the good ol' days?"

Carmy nodded, and for a few minutes, you worked in silence. It went smoother with help: you washing, him drying. When all was washed, you drained the sink with the garbage disposal, washed the basin out, and then started cleaning off the counters, stove, microwave, and any other appliance or surface Donna might've splattered on. Carmy noticed your system of dishes and did his best to match it, then mopping up the floor.

When you were both done, it was well past midnight and your adrenaline was waning. You eyed your boyfriend for a long moment, slowly approaching him after drying your hands; mimicking him from earlier and wrapping your arms around his middle. You felt Carmy give a long sigh, dropping one of his hands to hold yours on his stomach. "I love you," you reminded softly.

Carmy turned slowly, facing you with a soft, ginger expression. Both his hands rose to ghost over your cheeks, whispering, "I'm so fucking in-love with you."

Your smile was easy, "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Good."

He smirked, placing his forehead to yours. "Things got a little crazy," he whispered, "but I'm really glad you were here with me."

"I promise you, Carmy, I don't want to be anywhere else."

He sighed, pulling away to admire you for a long moment. "Even when Ma attacks you outta nowhere?"

"Even then," you promised softly. "Carmy, you forget, I had a mother very similar. Our relationship won't ever be the same, but the times I was around her, it taught me to walk on eggshells around someone. You're not alone in this and I promise, it doesn't scare me."

"Scares me..."

You nodded, stepping into his embrace, "I know, baby, I know. I'm so sorry. It'll get better, y-you'll find ways to deal with it all. Okay? I'm here with you."

His arms tightened, muttering, "Don't leave me, too."

"Not even if you beat me off with a stick," you teased. "Do you wanna go to bed, Cream?"

"Please," he groaned.

"You go up, I'll be there soon."

"You're not comin' up with me?"

"I think someone should be up when they get home."

Carmy sighed, "Probably..."

"Go to sleep," you encouraged, "I'll be up when they get in. I'll make sure Donna gets to bed, all right?"

"Nah, nah, I'll wait with you. Lemme grab some pillows and shit for us."

You didn't stop him, knowing you couldn't even if you tried. So after doing one last loop around the house, cleaning whatever needed it, you met Carmy in the second sitting room (the one Donna didn't drive into). He had a couple of pillows down and a comforter, changed into a pair of sweatpants and a muscle tank top. "Give me a minute to get changed," you whispered against his lips, hearing him hum in agreement.

You brought an overnight bag in case you were too tired to drive, now grateful for being "over prepared".

When you were matching in loungewear, you crashed on the couch with Carmy under a cushioned blanket. He was laid down the expense of the couch, you nestled between him and the back cushions. "How'd you do it?" He mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"Deal with your ma?"

"Put a lot of distance between us, enforced boundaries even if it made me the bad guy. Started therapy, read a lor of self-help books. All in all, I learned she was abusive in a different way and it affects me and all my relationships."

He sighed, "Think i gotta do the same."

"What's that?"

"Create distance... Think New York's far enough?"

"It'll have to be," you mused, snuggling close as Carmy picked up with phone. He mindlessly scrolled through his social media, you watching; the exhaustion catching up to you both, making you start to doze, but abruptly woke up when the front door burst open.

"I got her," Mikey waved you both off as you tried to yank off the tangle of blanket, assisting his drugged-up mother to her room after kicking the door shut.

When he returned, you and Carmy were sat up in interest. He sighed and tapped a cigarette from the carton, telling you both, "She's okay, minor concussion and shit... Nothing we can't handle, right? I'll be back." He excused himself out the front door.

You spared Carmy a look, frowning when those wide, baby blues locked with yours. "She's okay," you reminded softly, "and I'm here with you." You saw the fear flash in his eyes. "Carmy, you're not like anyone in your family - you're not like anyone I've ever known. You won't end up like them, you're not gonna slip off the deep end 'cause of their curse. It's sink or swim, and fuck's sake, I've got an extra life preserver, okay?"

He smirked, "What would I do without you or your analogies?"

"Get really boring advice," you teased, letting him kiss you. When you pulled back, you whispered, "She won't ruin you. I won't let anything tear you down."

He paused for a long while, nodding, "Think we should go to New York, then."

"I think so, too. You can't linger here, Carmy, or else you're going down with them all and I can't do anything to help. If we stay here, Cream, I'm afraid for what it'll do to us, and if you stay with your family, there's no telling what they'll do or make you feel." You told him softly, "Don't let them step in the way of what you want, Carmy. Don't let them dictate your life anymore than they do. You deserve a life, you deserve to live away from this toxic bullshit - to truly find and establish yourself without their extra dead weight."

He nodded sadly, wiping a hand down his face.

His eyes bulged naturally, and now, you could see clearly the red tinge from repressed tears and the swollen, blotchy skin from him rubbing so frequently.

"Carmy?" You waited until his eyes met yours. "Just because they're your family doesn't mean you're gonna end up like them. You're aware of the stress, turmoil, and abuse that's generated, and with this knowledge comes the ability to break cycles. Baby," you whispered, resting your foreheads together, "you are not the same, you can always choose to do better... To be better... To recognize slippery slopes and pull yourself back. They're your blood, yes, but that doesn't automatically mean you guys are the same now - or that you'll become like them in the future. You're different, Carmy... You're so different, you're going to do amazing things - they'll all see. And one day, I'll tell you, 'Told you so,' but it can all start today, if you want."

"You're right," he agreed, sighing deeply as he pulled away from you. "I do want that - I want us to get away and go live. We'll go..." He nodded in assurance, sniffling before pecking your forehead, "We'll go to New York and get the fuck away from this bullshit. It's not healthy, can't sustain ourselves here."

"For the time being," you corrected, "because never say never when thinking of returning home. But we've still got a lot of life to live before we settle down, right?"

"Right," he whispered, staring at you like you hung the moon and stars. "What would I do without you, Peach?"

"I imagine you'd be bored as hell," you teased, pecking his lips.

When Mikey returned, he found Carmy sprawled out on the couch with his arms tightly caging you to his chest; both looking utterly exhausted from the hectic holiday. He almost felt guilt for the rush to his blood from the drugs he used outside, knowing neither of you would be proud of him, and seeing you both look so at-peace solidified in his mind that he wouldn't burden either of you with his woes. So he vacated the front lobby just as your head lifted in confusion - feeling as if you had been watched and waking up.

However, when your burning-for-sleep eyes didn't see anyone, you settled back against Carmy.

rules and requesting masterlist

The Bear masterlist

[jmdbjk]

We are sure.

WARNING, SPOILERS.

I have no doubt that every now and then, especially in the beginning, at the end of a long day or when they are tasked with doing something they've never encountered... they look at each other and say ...

And it allows them to laugh it off. They said they were making memories they could look back on while doing their service. What a fantastic period of time they had to create these memories.

This ending scene of the last episode of Are You Sure? has changed the way I think about that moment of them from the Bangtan Bomb of their enlistment day.

On their enlistment day we were so sad and were convinced they were too. And they were. But at that time we had no idea the fun they had during these three fantastic trips, they ate some wonderful food, drank a lot of beer, saw sights they don't have time to see when they are traveling for promotions and performing, spent a lot of "just being" time together which is obviously something they enjoy doing.

And knowing that at the end of Jungkook's I Am Still documentary, there was a scene of him showing Jimin his shaved head... it's as close to seeing it all play out as we're ever going to get. Piece it all together and you have a clear picture of this strong connection they have with each other.

Like Hobi said in his recent Weverse letter, I hope Jimin and Jungkook have come to realize by now it will all be ok. 27 days left until Hobi is back. 8 months, 23 days until Jimin and Jungkook are back. 38 more Mondays.

And they gave us a tiny bit of hope that this isn't the end of Are You Sure.

Delulu time: They have a lot of time to scheme and plan a reboot. Planning the next trip can also help them have something to look forward to. Like Jin did, they can do a quick live at the Hybe building before jetting off to Bora Bora or Alaska to start filming the reboot of AYS. They can make it happen if they want to. It will be another ten days after their discharge before Yoongi is free too and the group can be one again. They can go away for a few days, get comfortable with cameras and civilian clothes again. Get busy, Universe! Please?

All along, Jungkook was expressing his love for these trips, his excitement for the experiences, his enthusiasm for the good food and his easy-going vibe because he's with someone who fits him so well. Jimin enjoys the vibe of being with Jungkook and enjoys watching Jungkook be immersed in everything that brings him joy. He said if we watched these episodes, this is what its like at home.

They made it clear there are no other people on earth either of them would rather be with than each other for these trips. Jungkook said it himself: these were the best trips of his life. Jimin teared up a little when it was time to head to the airport. This was a chapter closing in their lives. If it impacted them this much, they will for sure somehow try to do it again after military service.

Besides the fact the two loved creating this, the series has been ranking high in viewers which would help sway any decisions as to whether a reboot is worth the expense. Of course it is!

Questions: I guess the behind episodes will also be on Disney? Why would they be submitted for ratings if they were only going to be on BangtanTV? Or maybe they'll be on Weverse too?

With the purchase of the photo book, there is a digital code for 52 more minutes of footage. We'll begin seeing clips of that on Sept. 29 when people begin receiving their copies. Got mine! Can't wait for it to get here!

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Dead Man's Blood | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, daddy issues, mentions of parental death

Word Count: 5022

A/N: Cannot believe we're at the penultimate episode of my version of the first season Supernatural!! Crazy!! Thank you guys so much for the love and support; I truly appreciate it.

When season 2 starts, the taglist will be closed! If you'd like to join and haven't already, please let me know!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and the Winchester boys sat at a table in a diner searching for possible cases to take on. You sat at your laptop on the side of the table with Sam and Dean to your right and left. 

Dean looked through a newspaper and folded it up in frustration. “Well, not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What’ve you got, Sammy?”

“I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota... here. A woman in Iowa fell ten thousand feet from an airplane and survived,” Sam responded.

“Sounds more like ‘that's Incredible’ than, uh, 'Twilight Zone'.”

“Yeah, I agree,” you said.

“Hey you know we could just keep heading east. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh? Cool chick, man, smokin'.” Dean whistled lowly. “You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, maybe someday. But in the meantime we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that,” Sam stated.

“Yeah, alright. How ‘bout you, (Y/N)?”

“Uh, man in Colorado, local man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home,” you said, continuing to scan the web page before you.

“Elkins? I know that name,” Dean said.

You shrugged as Sam said, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Dean muttered the man’s name over and over.

“Sounds like the police don't know what to think. At first they said it was some sort of bear attack, now, they've found some signs of robbery,” you continued.

Dean took out his father’s journal and began to flick through it. “There, check it out.” He turned the book around to you and Sam and pointed at a contact reading “D. Elkins” with the man’s phone number next to it.

“You think it's the same Elkins?” Sam questioned.

“It's a Colorado area code.”

“Alright, Colorado it is. Let’s go, kids,” you said. 

***

You and the boys made your way to the remote cabin of Daniel Elkins and picked the lock to his home. You cringed at the sight of your messy surroundings once inside. Books were everywhere, mad scribblings on stray pages covered the floor, and the furniture seemed to not have been dusted in years.

“Looks like the maid didn't come today,” Dean remarked.

You crouched down at the entrance of the home and fingered something on the floor. “Hey, got some salt over here.”

“You mean protection against demon salt, or 'oops I spilled the popcorn' salt?” Dean asked.

You gave him a dirty look. “Clearly a ring. Elkins was a player?”

“Definitely,” Dean responded. 

You rose to go stand beside the brothers and look over the journal they were flicking through.

“That looks a hell of a lot like Dad's,” said Sam as he flipped through the pages.

“Yep, except this dates back to the '60s,” Dean added.

You led the brothers into another room and took in the shattered skylights. You moved your flashlight around the room and took in the fact that somehow, this room was messier than the other ones.

“Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one,” Sam said, referencing the damage to the skylights. It seemed there were two separate entry points through them.

“Looks like he put up a hell of a fight, too,” the older brother added. He crouched down to the floor.

“You got something?” you asked, crouching beside him.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Some scratches on the floor.”

“Death throes maybe?” Sam suggested.

Dean grabbed a page from a notebook on top of the desk beside you and placed it over the spot on the ground. He rubbed a pencil over the top to create an outline. “Or maybe a message.” He peeled up the paper that now had a lot of blood on the back and showed you and Sam the rubbings of the characters. “Look familiar?”

“Three letters, six digits. The location and combination of a post office box. It's a mail drop,” you said.

Dean looked to his brother. “Just the way Dad does it.”

***

You and the boys found a letter in the mailbox labeled with the numbers and letters from the floor’s message. You leaned over the back seat of the car and read off the letters on the envelope.

“ ‘J.W.’ Gotta be John Winchester, right?” you said.

“I don't know. Should we open it?” Dean turned his head to you.

A knock on Dean’s window came before any of you could say another word. You reared back and grabbed your gun from your belt, pointing it at the sound.

“Dad?” Dean breathed out.

You breathed out sharply as John opened the door and slid into the seat next to you. “I almost shot you, dude.”

He chuckled at you.

“Dad, what are you doing here? Are you alright?” Sam asked, turning to face him.

John’s gravelly voice seemed even more tired and worn than the last time you’d seen him. “Yeah, I'm okay. I read the news about Daniel; I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three at his place.”

“Why didn't you come in, Dad?”

“You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren't followed. By anyone or anything. Nice job of covering your tracks, by the way.”

Dean looked a little proud. “Yeah, well, we learned from the best.”

“Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?” Sam questioned.

John nodded. “He was— He was a good man. Taught me a hell of a lot about hunting.”

“Well, you never mentioned him to us.”

“We had a— we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years.” He gestured to the envelope. “I should look at that.” He opened it. “ 'If you're reading this, I'm already dead'... that son of a bitch.”

“What is it?” his eldest son asked.

“He had it the whole time.”

Sam looked at him confused. “Dad, what?”

“When you searched the place, did you— did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?”

You shook your head. “I saw an old case, but it was empty.”

John sighed. “They have it.”

“You mean, whatever killed Elkins?” Dean asked.

John started to get out of the car. “We gotta pick up the trail.”

“Wait, you want us to come with you?” Sam scoffed.

“If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun,” John rushed out.

“The gun? Why?”

“Because it's important, that's why.”

‘He’s even more of a hardass than Dean.’

“Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet,” the younger son protested.

“They were what Daniel Elkins killed best: Vampires.”

Your heart nearly dropped at the mention of those creatures.

“I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and others had wiped them out. I was wrong,” John said. 

“Damn right,” you jumped in, not realizing the sudden venom lacing your words.

The three men stared back at you, and you shrank awkwardly.

John continued to explain. “Most vampire lore is crap. A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late.”

Anxiety clawed at your throat. You hadn’t faced any vampires since the death of your family.

***

You and the Winchesters found a decently priced motel to stay in to get your bearings before you went after the vampires. You watched Sam and Dean sleeping peacefully on their beds, but you were unable to get a wink. You and John sat on opposite sides of the table in the room listening to the police scanner.

You admired Dean’s relaxed features. You rarely saw him this at-ease. You wished you could be sleeping beside him, but your own mind was keeping you awake. The eldest Winchester looked over at you and whispered over the hum of the police scanner. “How’ve they been?” he asked.

You sighed. “They’re alright, I think. Been driving themselves crazy looking for you, though.”

He chuckled softly. “I figured they were.” He paused for a minute. 

“They need you more than they need me,” you said. “You should stay with ‘em. I’ll be hitting the road in a little while, I think.”

“Don’t,” he said. “They’ll need you when this is all over.”

“What? You’re not gonna stay?” You turned your head to John.

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head. 

You were disgusted at him. “Look, no disrespect, but that’s crap.”

He seemed caught off-guard. “And why’s that?” he challenged.

“Sam’s a mess. You walked out on Dean. Your boys deserve their father," you whispered harshly.

“Don’t act like you know me,” he hissed. “Dean’s a grown man. He’ll get over it. Sam, too. I’m not abandoning them; it’s just not safe.”

“Just call a spade a spade, John. Abandonment ‘for their safety’ is still abandonment,” you argued. 

“You don’t think I wanna be with my kids—?"

“No, I don’t actually,” you cut him off.

Before he could continue to argue with you, something on the police scanner caught your attention.

“Unit 22 let me confirm. Mile marker 41, abandoned car. You need a workup?” the static voice said.

“Copy that. Possible 207. Better get forensics out here,” another voice said.

“Sam, Dean, let's go,” John slapped their feet as he stood, his voice still gravelly from his anger with you.

“Mm-hmm,” Dean muttered, though still asleep.

Sam sat up and Dean rubbed his eyes.

“There’s a call on the scanner,” you said.

“(Y/N), did you get any sleep?” the older brother slurred sleepily.

“That’s not important right now,” you told him. “C’mon.”

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“A couple called 911,; found a body in the street. Cops got there and everyone was missing. It's the vampires,” John explained.

“How do you know?”

“Just follow me, okay?” John said, leaving the room. 

You turned to Sam who was putting his jacket on. “It’s how they hunt. They lay in the middle of the road and wait for somebody to pull over. By the time they get up close and personal, it’s too late. Then they leave.”

Dean sat up, still half-asleep. “You gonna be okay?” he asked you.

“I’m fine,” you responded. You could tell he didn’t believe you, but you left him behind without waiting for an argument.

***

John was talking to the cops while you and the brothers stood back by the Impala under the cover of the trees. He refused to look at you after your argument, and you refused to speak to him. You wouldn’t engage with a man who walked out on his children and put Dean through so much.

“I don't see why we couldn't have gone over with him,” the brunet sighed sulkily.

“Oh, don't tell me it's already starting.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“What's starting?” Sam asked.

John walked up before either of you could answer.

“What have you got?” Dean asked his dad.

“It was them, alright. Looks like they're heading west. We'll have to double back to get around that detour,” John explained.

“How can you be so sure?” Sam challenged.

“Sam—” Dean tried.

“I just wanna know we're going in the right direction,” Sam told him sharply.

“We are,” John responded.

You stood back next to Dean, trying not to get involved in the fight.

“How do you know?”

John handed something to his oldest son. “I found this.”

“It's a vampire fang.”

“Not a fang, teeth. They’ve got a second set that comes out when they attack,” you explained, looking over Dean’s shoulder at the tooth.

“Any more questions?” John challenged Sam.

Sam looked away and stayed silent. 

“Alright, let's get out of here, we're losing daylight,” John said. Everything he said was said with authority. “Hey, Dean, why don't you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldn't have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it,” he gruffly spat at his son before heading to his truck.

You angrily stared after the man before looking over at Dean, who grimaced and got into the passenger’s seat.

Sam drove, keeping a close follow on John’s truck. You rested your chin on Dean’s shoulder, looking over the excerpt he was reading about vampires in your journal. He read aloud to you and Sam. “ ‘Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten. Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks.’ I wonder if that's what happened to that 911 couple.”

Sam grumbled, “That's probably what Dad's thinking. Course, it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks.”

“So it is starting,” Dean sighed.

“What?”

“Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year. Now we're not with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?” 

Sam huffed. “No. Look, I'm happy he's okay, alright? And I'm happy that we're all working together again.” 

“Well, good,” Dean said. 

The younger brother was unable to help himself. “It's just the way he treats us, like we're children.”

“Oh, God.” You sat back in the seat, doing your best to ignore the fight between the brothers.

“He barks orders at us Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal,” Sam argued.

“He does what he does for a reason.”

“What reason?”

“Our job! There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, alright? That's just the way the old man runs things.”

“Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids but not anymore, all right. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line and letting him run the whole show?” Sam looked over at his brother angrily.

Dean gave Sam a long look before strongly responding, “If that's what it takes.”

Sam shook his head and returned his eyes to the road.

A few minutes later, Dean was on the phone with his dad. “Yeah, Dad. Alright, got it.” He hung up. “Pull off at the next exit.”

Sam’s frustrated tone was back. “Why?”

“ ‘Cause Dad thinks we've got the vampire's trail,” Dean said matter-of-factly.

“How,” Sam somehow sounded angrier.

“I don't know. He didn't say,” Dean responded.

Sam gunned the engine, and pulled in front of his dad’s truck before slamming the breaks.

“What are you doing, Sam?” you asked.

Sam got out of the car without answering you.

“Oh, crap. Here we go.” Dean followed his brother out of the car. “Sam!”

You just watched from the back seat, deciding not to get between the family’s brawl.

You watched in the driver’s side rear view mirror as John and Sam got in each other’s faces. Dean was trying to pull the two apart, and you could make out some of what they were screaming at each other about.

Sam approached the car again before spinning back around at his father. You often got in fights like that with your own father but more about his treatment of you and your brother. You knew better than to argue his orders.

“You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!” Sam yelled loudly enough for you to hear.

Dean then shoved the two apart, forcing Sam back to the car. Sam got back in the driver’s seat, still enraged.

“Sam, do you want me to—”

“No,” he snapped at you.

“Oh-kay, then.”

***

You and the brothers sat in the trees watching the beat-up barn the vampires called home. Dean stood beside you and cursed, “Son of a bitch. So they're really not afraid of the sun?” as he watched the vampires climb into a car, shielding their faces with their hands.

“Nope,” you said. “Direct sunlight just stings like a badass sunburn.”

“The only way to kill 'em is by beheading. And yeah, they sleep during the day— doesn't mean they won't wake up,” John added.

“So I guess walking right in's not our best option,” Dean said.

“Actually, that's the plan,” John grinned.

You and the brothers flipped open the trunk of the Impala and began grabbing machetes. John did the same with his truck, but his was outfitted with a fancy, automatic, hidden compartment.

“Here, (Y/N).” Dean handed you a rusty machete.

You caught sight of the giant blade their dad was holding. “Whoa, why don’t you have any like that?”

Dean snorted and turned his head. “Wow.”

John paused, closing his trunk. “So, you boys really wanna know about this Colt?”

“Yes, sir,” said Sam.

“It's just a story, a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter,” John began. “Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow, Daniel got his hands on it. They say... They say this gun can kill anything.”

“Kill anything, like, supernatural anything?” Dean breathed.

“Like the demon,” Sam connected.

“Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun, and we may have it.”

“Wait, and you couldn’t tell your kids that why?” you snarled.

“(Y/N)—” Dean scolded, but you couldn’t help yourself.

John just looked at his eldest son. “What exactly made you keep her around for so long?”

“Both of you, stop it,” Dean said. "Let’s get these fuckers while we have the chance.”

You backed off, tension dissolving a little at Dean’s words. You looked between the boys and their father. Their faces conveyed complex emotions you couldn’t quite read.

Silently, you and Dean flanked one end of the barn while Sam took the other with his father.

You and Dean jumped through a barn window and walked around their hammocks carefully. Dean accidentally kicked an empty bottle on the ground, and you froze. You made a worried face and looked over to Dean, who froze as well.

The vampire next to Dean stirred, but didn’t wake up. You and Dean continued on until you found a woman tied up against a pole. You weren’t sure if she was sleeping or unconscious. 

“Dean,” you whispered, crouching beside the woman. He came over to you as you began to untie her. You heard a noise behind you, and Dean went over to investigate.

“There’s more,” he said, grabbing something to break the locks on the metal cages a distance away from you.

The woman you were untying began to stir, and you did your best to assure her you were here to help.

The woman awoke and let out an unearthly roar. 

“Dean!” you called, shooting up.

“Kids, run!” John called to you after hearing your voice. You and Dean sprinted out of the building, yelling for Sam as you did so. The vampires chased you, but you used the daylight to your advantage. You broke back through the trees and returned to the cars.

“Dad?! Sam!” Dean called. The two then came back up the slope. 

“They won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life,” John said.

“Well, what the hell do we do now?” Dean questioned.

“You gotta find the nearest funeral home, that's what.”

You knew where John was going with this. You smiled at the boys who seemed confused. “C’mon, Dean,” you said, patting his shoulder. You turned to the Impala, and Sam and his father got in the latter’s truck.

Dean cruised down the road to the funeral home you had found and were planning to break into. 

“What the hell was that earlier?” Dean asked frustratedly as soon as the car doors were shut.

“What?”

“With my dad, (Y/N), why would you say something like that?!”

"Look, we got in a fight while you and Sam were sleeping. I just don’t like how he treats you guys,” you admitted.

“Well, thanks, but don’t. Sam’s enough for me right now as it is,” he responded.

A few moments passed, and you looked down at your hands. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

Dean sighed. “It’s okay.” He snorted after a moment. “Not many people would stand up to my dad like that.”

You smiled, eyes still on your hands folded in your lap. “He reminds me a lot of my dad. John and Sam fight exactly how my dad and I did. Steven always had to break us apart.”

“I just don’t understand why Sam can’t leave the old man alone,” Dean told you. “I mean, we spent so fucking long looking for ‘im, and as soon as we find him, he’s pickin’ fights.”

You nodded in understanding. “I get why he’s upset, but I agree that it’s the wrong place and wrong time right now. I mean, despite the fact that I picked a fight with him. Again, mistake on my part.” 

“Agreed.”

You let a moment of silence pass before you spoke again. “Dee?”

“Hm.”

“Now that we’ve found your dad, do you still want me here?”

He turned his head toward you. “Of course, I do. You’re not gettin’ rid of us that easy.”

You grinned. “Good. After a year of all this, you guys have become my new normal. I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to being alone again.”

Dean smirked and turned back to the road, pulling into the parking lot of the funeral home. 

After a few lies and a bit of breaking and entering, you and Dean were headed back to the motel with dead man’s blood in hand.

“What does that stuff do exactly?” Dean asked you as he drove.

“It’s kinda like vampire food poisoning. Pretty useful stuff,” you explained.

“How’ve you been with this whole thing?�� he asked.

“What, the vampires?”

Dean nodded.

“Winchester, are you goin’ soft on me? Since when do you care to get into the touchy-feely?” you joked.

He rolled his eyes in response. “Answer the damn question, (Y/N).”

You sighed, dropping your plucky attitude. “I’m okay, I think. I just— I haven’t hunted any vamps since my parents died. Any time I sniffed any out, I ran the other way. It’s kind of ironic that the one thing I fucking hate hunting has the one thing we need to kill this demon.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, well, y’know… Just…” 

“There’s my boy. Having trouble with moments of sincerity once more,” you gibed but became serious once more as he rolled his eyes. “I know. If I need anything, I’ll let you know.”

***

You were surprised to find John and Sam laughing when you reentered their motel room.

“Whew. Man, some heavy security to protect a bunch of dead guys,” Dean said.

“Get it?” John asked.

You reached into Dean’s jacket pocket and pulled out a paper bag with a bottle full of blood inside it. You handed it over to the eldest Winchester.

“You know what to do,” he said.

***

You hated watching that creature feel Dean up and kiss him, but you knew you needed to let it happen for the sake of getting the Colt from the vampires. You’d already nearly beheaded her when she backhanded him.

Another vampire appeared behind the woman holding Dean in the air by his face, and that was when you made your move. You used a crossbow to shoot both of the vampires straight between their ribs, and the girl holding Dean dropped him.

“Dammit,” she cursed as you approached the group from the trees. “It barely even stings.”

“Give it time, babe,” you told her. “That arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood. Should be giving you a nasty tummy ache any second.” You pouted at her mockingly as she began to waver and lose consciousness.

“Load her up,” John ordered you and his sons. “I'll take care of this one.” Moments later, you heard a slashing noise and blood splattering coming from behind you as you finished loading the girl into Dean’s trunk.

***

You met John in a clearing in the woods where you and Sam were setting up a campfire. Dean tied the unconscious vampiress to a tree, and you circled her, fuming.

“Easy, tiger,” Dean told you. “Don’t kill her just yet.”

“I’m tryin’ not to,” you responded, gripping the handle of your machete tightly.

He chuckled at you and turned to his dad.

“Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready,” John commanded.

“Stuff stinks!” Dean coughed.

“That's the idea. Dust your clothes with the ashes, and you stand a chance of not being detected,” his father replied.

“You sure they'll come after her?” Sam asked his dad.

“Vampires mate for life,” you broke in. “She means more to the leader than the gun.”

“But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time,” John added.

“A half hour oughta do it,” shrugged Sam.

“And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can,” John stated.

The boys began to protest.

“Well, Dad, you can't take care of them all yourself,” Dean said.

“I'll have her,” John replied, referencing the passed-out vampire. “And the Colt.”

“But after. We're gonna meet up, right? Use the gun together. Right?” Sam looked at his father expectantly. There was a long pause before Sam spoke again. “You're leaving again, aren't you. You still wanna go after the demon alone." Hes scoffed mockingly. "You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like children.”

“You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe.”

Dean spoke up much to your surprise. “Dad, all due respect, but, uh, that's a bunch of crap.”

“Excuse me?” the older man scoffed.

“You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe,” Dean argued.

“It's not the same thing, Dean.”

“Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?”

“This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive,” John responded.

“You mean you can't be as reckless.”

“Look, I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mother's death… it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't,” John admitted.

“What happens if you die? Dad, what happens if you die, and we could’ve done something about it?" He let his words hang in the air for a moment. "You know, I've been thinking. I think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together,” Dean stated.

Sam nodded as his brother continued. “We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it.”

John’s walls went back up. “We're running out of time. You do your job, and you get out of the area. That's an order.”

Dean looked down at the ground, and you watched him carefully as he tried to suppress his rising emotions. 

***

After you and the boys freed the people that had been locked up in the vampires’ barn, you went to find John and the members of the nest. You found them just in time because John had been knocked on his ass by the vampire you’d kidnapped.

You and the brothers hurried out of the trees and began shooting vampires with a crossbow. You moved toward the leader with your machete, but he backhanded you and held you in a headlock with his arm around your throat. 

You struggled against him as he addressed Dean, who was holding a machete of his own. “Don't! I'll break her neck. Put the blade down.”

Dean hesitated.

Luther tightened his hold on your neck, causing you to struggle more. “It’d be a real shame for her to die.” He dug his nose in your hair and sniffed deeply. “She’s pretty. I’d love having her around. Drop it!”

Dean did as told, and his jaw clenched in fury. 

“You people. Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do,” the leader said.

“I don’t think so,” came John’s voice from behind you. The vampire spun you and himself around to face John, who shot the vampire in the middle of his forehead. He dropped you to the floor, and Dean rushed to your side.

You turned and watched a sigil appear on the man’s forehead where he’d been shot as his girlfriend screamed in agony. “Luther!”

The vampire slumped to the ground, dead. The vampiress started toward John, but was pulled away by her friend to get to their car. They took off, wheels screaming and leaving you in the dust.

***

You sat in the brothers’ motel room, having finished packing long before they had as usual. John entered the room and addressed his sons. “So, boys.”

They stopped packing and turned to face him. “Yes, sir.”

“You ignored a direct order back there,” he said crossly.

“Yes, sir.” Sam hung his head low.

Dean argued, “Yeah, but we saved your ass.”

John held his son’s challenging stare, and you swallowed nervously.

“You're right,” John admitted much to your surprise.

“I am?”

If it weren’t for the situation, you would’ve laughed at Dean’s adorably clueless face.

“It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So… we go after this damn thing. Together.”

You smiled as the two boys said in unison, “Yes, sir.”

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[malfoyswand]

𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

summary: your best friend, draco malfoy, plans a surprise to ask you to the yule ball.

word count: 1.8k

genre: fluff

warnings: none, just soft draco :)

author's note: thank you to the lovely reader who requested this, it's my first request so i really hope i did this justice! also yes, i got a little inspired by that one gilmore girls episode with the 1000 flowers for the proposal lol

➪ masterlist | requests

"Mate, I think you're overthinking this."

Blaise Zabini reported his opinion of the matter, but Draco Malfoy barely comprehended a word he had spoken. The only things on his mind were (Y/N) and of course, the bloody Yule Ball.

If he was honest with himself, Draco was at least partially excited for the dance. He knew it was meant to be one of the greatest nights he may ever experience while at Hogwarts, but he wasn't sure if he would. The dance was only a week away and somehow, Draco found himself without a date.

If anything, the Yule Ball was making him nervous.

"I'm not, Zabini!" He spoke quite loudly, then softened his voice as he realized students had looked their way. "This needs to be perfect, alright? This is (Y/N) we're talking about, you know how I feel about her."

Blaise couldn't help but sigh, with a smile on his lips as the two of them walked to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It was quite a feat for Malfoy to tell Blaise that he had romantic feelings for his best friend, (Y/N). Blaise knew that Draco dreaded being seen as anything but tough to the world, the fact that a girl had this much control over his emotions spoke volumes. 

"Exactly my point, Malfoy. She's been your best friend since first year, I doubt she would ever be disappointed or angry with whatever you come up with. Besides, she's just a girl. Just ask her to the ball like how you would ask a girl out on a date."

"Er.. well.." Draco began to speak, the hand that wasn't holding his books scratching the back of his neck. The two of them finally stopped walking besides the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Blaise's eyes widening as he tried to hide his laughter.

"You're telling me that Draco Malfoy has never been on a date before? Merlin!" His laughter echoed down the chamber, earning him a scoff and a playful shove inside the classroom by Draco. "Sorry, sorry. I just thought that with every other girl in this school begging to be your date to the dance, you would've taken at least one of them on a date." His voice was spoken quietly, careful that the other students wouldn't hear their conversation.

Draco shook his head as the two of them sat down in their seats, pulling out their books and parchment. "No. I've turned them all down. They're just not her, know what I mean?"

"You're down bad, mate." Blaise smirked slightly to himself, whispering the only advice he could really offer his friend. "Listen, girls like being asked out in a personal way. You know the kind of things (Y/N) likes, all you have to do is make it special and she'll be swooning."

"Right." Draco mumbled to himself as Professor Moody began to teach his lesson. However, he certainly wasn't thinking about Defense Against the Dark Arts. Instead, Draco glanced over to where you sat across the room. He knew you better than anyone, yet he had no idea how to ask you to the Yule Ball.

That was when the idea struck him. The new bag you bought last week caught his eyes, he noticed the way the bag had intricate floral designs sewn into it. A memory replayed in Draco's mind. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he wrote on a spare piece of parchment, folding it into a paper crane before sending it your way.

Your hands caught the paper crane, grinning as you knew exactly who it was from. You tried to ignore the way your heart seemed to skip a beat each time you saw one fly towards you. On the piece of parchment, it read:

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower tomorrow morning before breakfast? - D.M.

You lifted his gaze to meet his awaiting gray eyes, your head nodding before turning back to the professor's lesson. Draco did the same, but his mind was already running through a mental checklist on all the supplies he had to get to make his idea come to life.

The next morning, you woke up wondering why in Godric's name you decided to meet up with Draco this early in the morning. The sun was just starting to rise outside the window, and none of your other roommates were even awake. You groaned as quietly as you could, practically tiptoeing around the dorm bedroom to avoid waking everyone else.

As you brushed your hair in the girls' lavatory, you felt the butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter around again. You cursed yourself under your breath as you tried your best to focus on your breathing.

Lately, being near Draco Malfoy has always made you more excited than you really ought to be. Of course, he was your best friend so you had always been excited. But now, even one glance at him caused a warmth to glow within your chest. The feeling was a foreign one.

As you walked through the castle towards the Astronomy Tower, that warm feeling in your chest arose again as you caught sight of him. He was pacing near the entrance door, mumbling as if he was rehearsing something. You cleared your throat as you walked towards him, Draco stopping in his tracks.

"(Y/N)." He spoke your name, his lips forming into a soft smile. "Thanks for meeting up with me, I know it's a bit early for you." His tone was playful, he knew you were not much of a morning person. 

"About that, why so early in the morning, Malfoy?" You gently shoved his shoulder, he only laughed in response. He opened the Astronomy Tower door entrance, his hand indicating for you to step inside first. 

"You will see."

You walked up the long set of stairs up the tower. You couldn't see the fact that Draco was a nervous wreck behind you, his hands having to wipe themselves on his slacks to remove the sweat from his palms. As much as you hated to wake up this early in the morning, you knew the views up from the tower would be gorgeous. Draco knew that the Astronomy Tower was, quite honestly, your favorite place to admire the landscape.

“Oh my..” Your body stopped in its tracks once the two of you reached the highest level of the tower. Your eyes couldn’t take in your surroundings fast enough it seemed.

It was as if every surface of the tower was covered in red roses. Somehow, someone must have placed hundreds of roses in vases, scattering them around almost every corner of the room. The light shining into the tower only amplified their beauty, it was as if each petal seemed to come alive as the sun continued to rise.

“D-Did you know these flowers were here?” You stuttered as you started to pace around the room slowly, your fingertips grazing upon almost every petal there was. Their beauty took your breath away.

“I did.” Draco bit his bottom slightly as he watched you, desperate to know your reaction. He couldn’t tell if you liked or hated them. “They’re for you, actually.”

Your eyes darted from the roses you were admiring to Draco, your body facing his. Although you were truly flattered, the idea of him doing all of this for you made your head spin with so many questions. You knew Draco Malfoy better than he may ever know himself, you had never seen him do anything this nice or extravagant for anyone before. 

“You said a couple of weeks ago that you wish spring would come along so you can watch the flowers bloom again. Of course, it’s only December, as we can all see.” Draco answered your question, a slight chuckle falling from his lips as he pointed outside of the tower. More snowflakes began to fall, covering the castle with even more snow.

“So, I thought to bring the flowers to you. And I only assumed you liked roses, from your bag.” His eyes went from watching the snowflakes outside to your bag that was decorated with tiny red roses around it. Since when did Draco notice something so mundane, like a new tote bag?

“I just.. don’t know what to say.” Your voice came out as a whisper. Him decorating the entire Astronomy Tower with roses, just because you said you missed the spring and summer flowers, was entirely insane. You couldn’t come up with the words, so all you could do was step forward to hug him tightly.

Within an instant, you felt Draco’s arms wrap around your waist, his head resting in the crook of your neck. He closed his eyes, smiling softly to himself out of relief and joy. He was relieved and happy that you had liked the surprise, but he knew what he must do, even though it terrified him.

“That’s not the end of the surprise.” He said as he slowly pulled away from the hug. All of a sudden, it was as the boy became aware of every heightened emotion he was feeling. “But I must do this properly..”

Your eyebrows raised as you watched him turn around, picking up one of the red roses from their vases. If you weren’t convinced you were dreaming at the moment, you would have sworn you saw a small bit of sweat on Draco’s forehead as he looked towards you.

“I-er..” He took a step forward towards you, any closer and your bodies would have made contact. With a deep breath to calm himself, he handed the rose to you. “Would you want to go to the Yule Ball with me, as more than just a friend?”

Your lips slightly parted as you took the rose from him. You had slowly been falling for your best friend for the past four years, but you had convinced yourself that the Slytherin Prince would never fall for you. For four years, you had thought that he would never settle for you, when every other girl in this school begged for him just to look their way.

Once you realized you had failed to give an answer, you closed your mouth and smiled in his direction. “I would love to, Draco.” You responded, stepping forward once more to close the gap between you two. You pressed your lips softly to his cheek.

When you pulled away, you realized that Draco’s cheeks were slightly pink as his eyes widened. You couldn’t help but laugh slightly at the sight. Draco Malfoy was notorious for being the calm, collected one of the two of you. Seeing him as, essentially, a nervous wreck over you caused that warmth to be felt in your chest again.

“Who would have thought I could make Draco Malfoy this nervous?” You joked, attempting to calm his apparent nerves.

“Who said I was nervous?” He scoffed just as playfully, grabbing a few more roses to hand to you. You took them in your hands, smelling their pleasant aroma as you followed him back down the staircase.

“Malfoy, you were just as red as these roses.”

[somehow-a-human]

Whose POV is it anyway?

An Introduction

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

Cracking down on the storytelling of Good Omens season 2 through the lens of a changing narrator.

If you haven't read this interview with Good Omens cinematographer Gavin Finney, and you're interested in the fantastic dedication and detail that went into this TV show, definitely give it a read. Not only is it lovely, but Neil also posted the article with a caption mentioning that it's got so many secrets in it. Obviously that made me take a closer look.

I have already gone into a fair bit of detail about the different Lens Filters that Finney mentions in the article in a separate post and I will be referring to them quite a bit so if you aren't familiar with them I would suggest reading that first!

This first post is going to cover the basics of changing narrator/POV's and I'll be writing additional posts for separate episodes/minisodes/scenes since there's obviously way too much to cover in a single go. So shall we take our first look?

It's no secret that something's a *bit weird* with season two, and there are SO many theories about it. I love to read speculation, metas, theories, and opinions, it's definitely fun but my personal ideas align more with the idea that we're simply being shown the events of season 2 through the memories of multiple narrators, different POV's, and it slightly skews the story, sometimes within one continuous scene.

I am also a sucker for a good multiple timeline theory but that isn't this post.

Lens Filters

As I stated above, I wrote a post about each of these individual filters earlier. What I didn't go into in that post was speculation about the filters. While I think they're pretty straightforward, especially the filter for hell (Black Pro-Mist ((BPM)), I think the other two have a bit more room for speculation.

Bronze Glimmer Glass

BGG was described by Finney as being used for 'bookshop scenes', but after S2 back numerous times and paying as much attention as I could to the lighting and colouring of the scenes, I think this is generally true but not always true. There are times when bookshop scenes seem to use a different filter, and other locations also seem to be shot with the BGG filter as well. I think BGG aligns with Aziraphale's POV. Or if Not Aziraphale, an outside-of-Crowley narrator? Based on the scenes (which we'll specifically get into in other posts) which BGG seems to be used, context clues, character behavior, etc, I think BGG clues us in that we're seeing, if you will, through Aziraphale's eyes.

Black Diffusion FX

BDFX was described as being used for 'Crowley's present day storyline' and fuck me, that's not ominous or weirdly phrased at all Mr. Finney! This filter definitely aligns with Crowley. Most of the time he's separate from Aziraphale it seems that this is the filter being used, and certain scenes switch filters mid-scene when he begins to go off on snarky Crowley-centric commentary.

Catch-22 & Herzog

The books on Gabriels bookshelf, great books obviously, but I think books that are also meant to give us context about the story. Pride and Prejudice is a love story about making snap judgements on someone's character, and coming to recognize somebody might be good despite their title or appearance. The Crow Road is a story about life, death, love, morality, mystery, and God. 1984 details the tragedy of Julia and Winston's attempt at falling in love while living under in a police state. You see my point?

That's why I wanted to touch a bit more on Catch-22 and Herzog specifically when talking about the possibility of changing narrators/POV's in Good Omens 2.

Catch-22 frequently switches narrator and the events described are often not necessarily sequential. This way you're getting information about previous scenes as the story continues, so while you're reading the book you're forming a more complete image of the events as the story continues from different characters POV's and iterations of the story. Sound relevant?

Herzog is the other book I wanted to talk about. To be fair I haven't read Herzog in full like I have Catch-22 but I pulled out my copy to reference and flip through a bit to remind myself. Herzog unlike Catch-22 doesn't switch narrators but the narration by the main character, Herzog himself, switches between first and third person throughout. When he is narrating through his letters, you get a deeper look at his thought processes and emotions. It also relies on flashbacks to bring context to the life of Herzog.

While these books touch on other elements that are relevant to the Good Omens story, namely Yossarian's relationship and views of God in Catch-22, the way these stories are told intrigued me for this context.

Crowley's Hair

Yeah I'm gonna mention the hair, because I think the hair is linked. Crowley's shorter sideburns, trimmed mutton chops in the 1827 flashback, and shorter Job wig seem to be clearly aligned with the BDFX filter/Crowley's POV as far as I can tell. I don't know if this means it's just another way to denote POV, but it seems way too consistent not to mention it. The longer sideburns, fuller mutton chops, and longer Job wig all match up with Aziraphale's POV or the BGG filter. My thoughts here are that his hair is another hint of who may be relaying the information to us, AKA is it internal or external. I am making my best guesses though and there are still some situations that I feel less sure about. For example, when Aziraphale takes the Bentley to Edinburgh and Crowley is in the Bookshop with Jim his sideburns are long, is it because he's remembering these scenes unreliably? Is Aziraphale imagining the events? Is it because Jim is present? A brief fluttering thought I toy with from time to time is the fact that in the before-the-beginning scene they are long, and what that means in context of the rest of the season.

S2 Promo Posters

Finally this set of season 2 promo posters showing the characters thoughtfully considering scenes in their heads just gives me a lot of these POV vibes.

I'm planning on doing individual posts for specific scenes, episodes, and minisodes that require detailed breakdowns. I'll update this list with links as the posts are finished!

POV "Your 'Something's Wrong' Voice"

POV a Trip to Hell and a 25 Lazarii Miracle

POV a Companion to Owls

POV The Dirty Donkey & I think I Found a *Clue*!

POV Bodysnatchers & Cosplaying a bookseller

POV 1941

POV The Ball

POV The End?

Whose POV is it Anyway - a Conclusion

[starlight-bread-blog]

The Fortune in The Fortune Teller

This is an isolated look into this specific episode.

The Fortune Teller is the 14th episode of book 1 of Avatar: The Last Airbender. It is famous for supposedly developping the show's romantic subplot between Katara and A\ang. The episode does two things: A\ang attempts to flirt with Katara, and Katara is finally willing to consider him as more than just a friend.

However, I believe that this episode could have masterfully foreshadowed the pair not getting together in the end. In this essay I will detail how each step the episode takes towards a Kat@ang endgame is actually foreshadowing the opposite.

1. Katara and the Nature of Destiny

In the beginning, the Gaang meets a person getting attacked by a bear. He is acting incredibly passive, simply dodging the bear's attemps at his life. Then, A\ang and Appa interfere to help the man. When the Gaang questions him on why he was so passive, he says it's because the Fortune Teller told him he'd have a safe journey. They then have the following exchange:

The man's logic is obviously flawed. If the Gaang didn't interfere, if the man continued to passivaly dodge, the bear would have attacked him. Fortune and destiny come from agency – from actively shaping them.

However, Katara is delaited at the prospect of seeing the future. Her and the Gaang go to meet the Fortune Teller, Aunt Wu. Aunt Wu tells her she'll marry a very powerful bender. Later, she comes back asking more details about her future husband. Remember her excitment, fantacising about her future husband:

After that, Katara becomes somewhat reliant on Aunt Wu's prophecies. She goes as far as to ask her what she should eat.

And she obeys her "prophecy", despite not wanting to. She became like the man from the beginning. She knowingly follows the fortune even though it doesn't make sense. She had given up on forging her own destiny.

Although by the end of the episode, she is no longer in this state of reliance, she still believes in the prophecies. Then, Sokka says that A\ang is a very powerful bender. This reminds her of what Aunt Wu said about her future husband. I don't want to cherry pick, so I took 4 different pictures of her face when she realizes A\ang might be the powerful bender she is to marry:

With the look in her eyes, with her mouth tilted down and with the ominous music, this could easily be read as disappointment. Especially when remembering how she fantacized about the powerful bender earlier in the episode. She doesn't smile, but looks concerned. As if she doesn't want this. Earlier in the episode, she says this:

A\ang is like the papaya. The fortune says he's right for her, but Katara doesn't want him. Now, she isn't like the man, passively dodging the bear attacking her. She shouldn't sit and wait for the prophecy to come true point blank. She has the agency to shape her own destiny and not to choose A\ang as her future husband.

2. A\ang, Meng, and First Crushes

In this episode we're introduced to a girl named Meng. Aunt Wu told her she'd end up with someone like A\ang, and so she developped a one sided crush on him. Throughout the episode she attempts to talk to him, all to no avail. Because A\ang is not interested in her.

Interestingly, her one sided crush is directly paralleled to A\ang's crush on Katara.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Exhibit C:

Please note that in exhibits B and C in particular, there is an emphasis on the other party not reciprocating their feelings.

In this parallel the show draws, A\ang is Meng, the younger, shorter one the one who is in love; and Katara is A\ang, the older, taller one who... *checks notes*... doesn't reciprocate.

But in the end, A\ang and Meng have a heart-to-heart.

Sometimes you'll like someone, and they aren't going to feel the same way, and even though it's hard, it's okay. They're young, just kids having a crush. A\ang responds to this with "I know what you mean". Because he, just like the audience that watched the parallels, knows that Katara likely doesn't return his feelings.

———————

In conclusion, The Fortuneteller could have been brilliant foreshadowing to Kata\ang not being the endgame couple, and it would have done so through beautiful, mature lessons about first loves and destiny. Thank you for reading.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.6 K Warnings: None Prompt: Time to wrap it all up, and perhaps receive one or two surprises. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 42: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Wednesday, December 23rd

The art store was small, but filled with colours all around. Small little black cabinets with golden numbers on top behind the counter, and walls lined with different paint pots and colours, a wall with wooden frames and delicately separated boxes that held paint brushes of all different sizes and shapes and, by the bits you’d read, also materials. 

At the top of the cabinets there was a small display of colourful markers and pens and other things that you knew muggles used but you weren’t too familiar with. Apparently, they used stick glue instead of sticking spells to adhere stuff. You wondered how much of this stuff Sirius actually knew about and vowed to bring him to this place with you one day. 

And while you did appreciate art, thoroughly – you’d gone to multiple museums, both muggle and wizarding through your trips – you had no idea what the difference was between gouache and acrylic, or why the “Rembrandt” that claimed to be made out of oil, where much more expensive than the “Winsor & Newton” ones that claimed the same. It had to be because of the quality, right? 

“Good evening, may I help you?” a young man, probably in his late twenties asked as he approached you. He was dressed in rather formal clothes and had a pair of thin-rimmed golden glasses. You would have probably considered him attractive if you hadn’t been accustomed to Sirius’ dashing looks or Remus’ lovely smile. You really were lucky to be surrounded by handsome and pretty humans, you thought, thinking of the rest of your friends. 

You must have looked as lost as a Bowtruckle in the middle of New York since he looked like he would try to be overly polite. 

“I’m looking for a gift, my boyfriend loves to draw, but I’m… not really good with all the supplies and stuff, I was thinking perhaps a nice set of pencils and a sketchbook. I’ve been looking through the paints as well, but I don’t think he’s the kind to do the whole canvas thing, at least not while we’re in school.” 

“Well, does he colour his drawings?” 

You thought about it for a moment, what he’d shown you were mostly sketches done in pencil, though there were some with an underlayer of red and or blue. “I think he uses some for the base of the drawings.” 

“Does he overline them?” The expression you gave him when he asked made him clarify it. “After the pencil sketch is done, does he add a pen or marker to finish up the details?” 

Sirius did not do that, but you also thought how complicated it would be to do such a thing with a quill instead of the pens and trinkets the muggles had invented so you nodded in response. “Yeah… not that often but I’m sure he’d like something to be able to do it.” 

“All right, follow me,” he said as he motioned to one of the furthest walls. “This is where we keep all of our sketchbooks, the thicker the grammage the stronger pens and markers it will hold. Also, some can even hold watercolour, not sure if he’s into that too.” 

“Do you have like – a book on the basics of watercoloring? I feel like he might actually be interested in that.” 

“We do,” he said with a nod and moved to the other side of the store bringing you a few options. You picked one of them and then looked through the sketchbooks. There were different sizes and colours and the pages felt really different on most of them. Some were especially made for watercolours and some were for drawing. You took one with about 100 pages for watercolour and one with the same amount of pages but with a bit less grammage for sketches. 

They both had a black cover with golden elegant trims that you thought would definitely go with Sirius’ look, although one opened from the side, making it more of a panoramic view while the other one stayed horizontal. You handed them in to the guy and he took them to the counter as you continued looking around. You leaned into the watercolour section and started to look at all the different options available. 

“If this is the first time he’ll do watercolour, may I recommend you buy a set?” he asked politely as he showed you a small wooden case, when he opened it there were all sorts of small blocks with different colours on them. “These are my favourite brand, but really gentle with beginners, they also come with this interesting thing,” he added as he handed you a small brush with a clear section at the top. “It comes with water, you don’t have to dip your brush that often, really useful once you get the hang of it.” 

“You have more of those?” you asked and he nodded, showing you the different sizes of brush ends. After a while, and with a lot of his help, you ended up selecting about 5 different brushes and the colours that you’d fill the small wooden box with as well, which you thought was fantastic since you could fill it up with whatever colours you chose and not a set palette. 

“You’ll also take the marker set, the watercolour book and the sketchbooks, correct? Anything else?” 

“Uhh… Am I missing anything that he might need?

“Does he draw portraits or landscapes?” 

You thought back of the Remus drawing he’d shown you, and then of the one you had chosen not to see. “He draws portraits and anatomy studies. Though I’m sure I’ve seen him doodle other stuff too.” 

“He might like this book then,” he told you as he handed over another book. It was about proportions and hand drawing and a lot of very advanced-looking stuff, you smiled. 

“This one as well, please…” he was about to finish the bill when you stopped him, looking down through the glass display and pointing towards something, “Is that a penknife?” 

“Well, yes,” he replied, “Although sharpeners are used more often nowadays, some people still prefer them.” 

“I’d like one of those as well,” you added with a smile. 

“Excellent.” The man gave you your total and then handed every single thing in a thick paper bag. “You said it was for a gift, right?” 

“Yes,” you nodded and he walked to the back of the shop, pulling a very elegant and sturdy black box, he eyed the bag as if calculating if everything would fit and then handed it over to you along with a black and gold ribbon with the name of the store repeated over and over. 

As he handed it over he pulled it back for a second and gave you a smile. “That young gentleman is very lucky to have you as a girlfriend.” 

“I think I’m just as lucky as he is,” you responded with a small smirk as you took the box. 

“Would you like me to call you a cab?” 

You thought about it for a second. Your house wasn’t that far, and with a short levitating spell you wouldn’t have to carry much stuff either, but the Knight Bus did mention they’d be very busy and you had been walking all day. “Yes, thank you.”

The man called for one and you waited inside the store until the cabbie arrived. You gave him your address and he took you straight there. You took the lift of your building, using your wand to unlock the secret –magical- floor your parents had purchased in London and waited. 

When the two, golden doors of the lift opened to your drawing room, you sighed. Leaning down to take off your shoes. “Mom? Dad?” 

No answer. “What time is it?” you whispered to yourself as you looked at the clock, quarter past ten? That art store surely has late closing times, you thought as you leaned back down to pull your bags up and drag them to your room. 

There was a note on the table along with what looked like a delightfully looking salad and steak. 

We’ll be home late, serve yourself. See you tomorrow darling.

You sighed and after placing the bags on the table, and using a warming spell on the food, you ate. Once you were done, the plate disappeared from the table and instead, a chocolate cake showed up. You smiled, at least they knew you liked sweets. You took a few bites from that and took it, along with your gifts, to your room. 

That’s when you remembered you had promised to tell your friends when you arrived here so you quickly scribbled a few notes. Sending your owl –Resse– back to the Potter’s and Barnaby –the family’s owl– to Beth. Then you took some Floo powder and leaned over the fire. 

“Tom?” You asked as you peeked through his chimney. 

“Sly sprite?” He asked as he leaned over. “I was starting to worry,” he said as he left a book on the side. “You got home, all right?” 

“Yeah!” you said with a smile. “And I got a bunch of good stuff at the store too, it was worth it.” 

“It better have been! Beth is home too, we stopped by hers first.” 

You chatted with Tom for a little while more and ended the call when you started to yawn and he followed right after. With that, you went for a quick and warm shower and then back to bed. 

Thursday, December 24th

There was a soft knock on the door, you stirred on your bed but didn’t wake and then there was another one. “Sweetheart? Breakfast’s ready, come eat.” 

“On my way,” you said as you sat on your bed and rubbed your eyes a couple of times. The day was bright, you’d forgotten to shut your windows at night and now you had the perfect view of the Thames through your window. You thought back to Hogwarts and how all the splendour of it had been made by magic, while the splendour of London had mostly been made by muggles. 

The high skyscrapers, the Ferris Wheel across the river, the towers, palaces and bridges, all muggle-made, and without magic, it was fascinating. You didn’t understand why wizards had so many prejudices against them –aside from the whole burning on steak part, muggles seemed to be quite incredible and determined people.  Perhaps you should have taken that muggle studies optative. 

“Sweetheart?” you heard your father’s voice, a bit more stern than your mother’s. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you said as you shook your covers off and grabbed your wand from the nightstand. “As if they hadn’t been home hours after I got here,” you mumbled as you fished for a pair of slippers under your bed. 

By the time you got out of your room both your mom and dad were sitting on the living room table. Your mom was wearing a beautiful cocktail dress while your dad had a perfectly fitting black suit on with a small cape, draped elegantly behind his chair. You were still wearing a band shirt you had stolen from Sirius a while ago, and that you had been wearing under Remus’ jumper before the trip. “Lovely to see you,” you said with an awkward smile, “it’s been a while.” 

Your father looked up from his newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand only for a second, nodded and then went back to read. Your mom gave you a sympathetic look and nodded for you to sit down. After a couple of minutes, your dad bent the newspaper and placed it on the side of the table.  

“We’ve heard plenty of your Hogwarts Adventures,” your father said looking at you. “You’ve been doing a masterful job at maintaining our house’s name relevant.”  

You frowned at that, that had never been your intention. 

“You were incredible in the broom race though you lost,” your father said. “And you’ve won two quidditch matches–” 

“That was a team effort…” you said, your voice growing smaller as his hand dismissed you. 

“You’ve kept your grades high and you’ve even entered the duelling club…”

“Not to mention her Theoretical Magic grades,” your mom added with a smile. 

“And you’re dating one of the Black kids.” 

You swallowed. You had mentioned in your letters that you and Sirius had gotten along now that you were in the same house, but you hadn’t specifically mentioned you were dating him.

“The disowned Black kid,” your father continued. 

You straightened a little, you had discussed with your dad the things that happened back in your vacations with the Blacks. It hadn’t been particularly nice talk, but you weren’t going to back down, his political means could not be worth more than his morals. And things had been rather tense between the two since then.

When two people had such intense ideological differences and desires, they were bound to clash against each other, especially when those ideologies juxtaposed against the other often, being only furthered by the fact that you were –at least on breaks– living under the same roof. 

Your priorities had been wildly different and you weren’t shy about letting him know, which caused your relationship to deteriorate quickly. Not to say you –or him– had been particularly rude to each other, but you were much colder. It was almost Christmas, and you didn’t want to start a fight with him, let alone over something that you were most definitely not going to yield on. 

“I think it’s all right. He might have been disowned by his family but he still stays in contact with some of the other Blacks like Alphard and the other disowned child… whatever her name is…” Andromeda, you thought as you tried to process the fact that he had just said it was fine. “Just try to avoid mentioning him in tomorrow’s dinner. I’m sure Walburga wouldn’t be particularly pleased.” 

“Tomorrow’s dinn– Walburga will be coming?” 

“Of course not, they have invited us to their Christmas dinner,” he said. “It’ll be hosted in Rosier Manor, I believe.” 

“Whose manor?” You asked, your breath going short along with your question. 

“Mr. Rosier,” your mom repeated. “All important wizards will be there.” 

“I’d rather skip Christmas altogether.” 

“I’m sorry, darling. This isn’t a matter of preferences. You will go and then we’ll let you do whatever you please for the rest of the break. Visit muggle London as much as you want or dally with your friends, I really don’t care as long as you maintain your composure during tomorrow’s dinner.”

Your leg was bouncing slightly under the table. “I don’t believe I will be welcomed in that house.” 

“You will be welcomed because you are my daughter and I’m me,” he said with an air of finality. “We need to present a strong family front, play your part and you’ll be rewarded.” 

“Right, my part,” you said bitterly. You wondered if your mother was playing her part too, they were in love, that wasn’t questionable, but sometimes it felt like she became nothing more than an addition to his recollection of what a perfect life should look like. Did he marry her because of the love he felt for her or because she’d look like a delightful trophy wife by his side on political dinners? Had she not been as beautiful as she was, had she not been well educated, would he have married her either way? 

You wondered, when had Silas become the man he is now? When did his greed for power become so intense he would sacrifice his morals to achieve it? When you were smaller, you thought they loved each other, even now, you saw when they looked at each other with those adoring eyes, but… there was a tale of sacrifice weaved in between their story, and with one party constantly bending to the other’s wishes, you weren’t sure you could still call it love. 

When devotion became toxic, was it still something that came from love, or had it become something else altogether? 

“Indeed darling, we ask for nothing more than one night. Then you will not be bothered, free to go wherever you want and with whomever you please. Does that sound like a fair deal?” 

You sighed and nodded, “One dinner.”

Your mother smiled at that, letting out a nervous breath and then reached for your hand. “Your clothes for tomorrow are already in your closet, I also got you some nice potions and make-up.” 

“Thanks, Mum,” you said with a short smile and looked at your food. It looked delicious, it was French toast with berries and fruit on top –probably there to appeal to your sweet tooth and convince you to go– but you didn’t feel hungry at all. Especially not at the thought of having to go to Rosier Manor. As if you didn’t see enough of Evan at school, now you had to go see him on the break as well, bIoody brilliant. “Breakfast was great,” you said as you stood up. Both of them decided to ignore your almost intact plate, “I’ll be in my room in case you need anything else, you know like me playing the role of the perfect child of the politician if your friends come around or whatever.”

Your mom gave you a reproachful look while your dad gave you an impassive one, you raised your eyebrows at the two of them, almost tauntingly before you turned around, walking back to your room and letting the door close behind you gently –it was not the inanimate objects fault that your parents were acting like pricks. 

You sat on your bed and took a deep breath before you saw a small owl by one of your windows, you let him in and took the rolled parchment from his feet before feeding him some water. 

Dear Vix, Hope this letter finds you all right, Sirius was moaning about you going along Beth and Tom and not inviting him to buy Christmas stuff it was draining! Now I was not going to write to you about it because he said he would punch me in the face but I had to write anyway since mum and dad wanted you to have our address so you could come here through floo anytime.  Hope you’re having a great time, Sirius and I went flying with Pete today (he lives a few houses from us, did we tell you?), and while it was nice not having to worry about Sirius distracting himself from snogging you, we missed you still.  Mum and Dad send greetings to your parents, hope you’re also having a blast.  Your bestest friend, James P.  PS. Mum sent this tea for you, she said she thinks you’d like it with how much sweet stuff you eat and stuff.  PS 2. Love you, but I bet you’re missing me more <– That was Sirius. 

James’ stupid letter made you chuckle, especially the last bit, as if it had been necessary to point out that Sirius had been the one to write it. You placed the letter into a small box in your bag and smiled as you walked to pick up some of the stuff you’d be giving your friends as their gifts.  

You picked up some wrapping paper and started wrapping all of their gifts, the owls would have to do a couple of trips to take them all to their place, but you’d make sure to leave them plenty of food throughout the night, so they could continue their trips and the presents would be at your friend’s beds in the morning. 

You had gone through most of the smaller gifts first, writing small, and neatly written Christmas cards on them. Then you went for the bigger ones, the books you’d gotten for Lily, some of the stuff for Mary and Marlene, James’ pack, and of course, Remus and Sirius’. 

It wasn’t until then, that you realised how overboard you had gone with your gifts. You’d gotten Remus so many books, both magical and muggle, that you almost felt guilty you hadn’t gotten Lily and James more stuff. And then you tried telling yourself it was because Remus would spend Christmas alone and he deserved at least a bit of happiness, you weren’t deliberately playing favourites. 

And then Sirius’ pile was clearly a mess, you had all the music you’d gotten, the shirts, the penknife that you wanted to engrave with his name (you were researching for the right spell to do it) and a bunch of other stuff for him. Besides, you still wanted to make the playlists, so before you finished packing the bigger boxes, you started testing the recorder. Now there wasn’t exactly a step by step guide on how to record music, but there was a small booklet that showed you how the thing worked and you spend the rest of the day figuring it out, listening to music and making a playlist for each of your friends. Using all the songs you thought they might like.

When you were done with that, you continued packing all the stuff. Deciding to send all the music back to the boys’ room at Hogwarts so they could leave it on Sirius’ stash. Well, all of them except for the David Bowie tape you had specifically gotten for Sirius and that would look great with his shirt and the rest of the gifts you’d gotten him. 

You went out to get some food at some point during the day, and there was another note from your parents telling you they were off at an event. Well, good riddance, you thought as you went back to your room with a sandwich in your hands. You picked one of the books you’d gotten for yourself and you spent almost the rest of the day reading it while jamming to one of the playlists you’d made. A copy of the one you’d made for Remus since you thought it went well with the book you’d chosen to read. 

You fell asleep before your parents got home, with the book still in your hands and the music playing softly in the background until the cassette ran out of tape and was softly ejected by the machine. The sound it made had been so soft it didn’t wake you at all. 

Thankfully, you had remembered to leave enough water and food for the owls, since they had spent all night doing trips back and forth to your house and your friends’. 

Friday, December 25th

You woke up by being pecked in the face by a very big and very angry owl. 

“Oi!” you complained. “What’s wrong with you?” The owl chirped and picked you again, this time on the ear. “Bitch,” you mumbled as you pushed him back lightly, only for him to pick you in the finger again. 

You gave him an upset look and he pulled back just a little, tilting his head towards the window, and the lack of food and refreshments. 

“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been attacking me non-stop?” you asked as you stood up from the bed, failing to see the pile of wrapped gifts at the end of it. The owl chirped in response, a scowl that you weren’t sure was his natural face shape or an actual scowl directed towards you. “I’m sorry,” you added, “Barnaby and Reese must have eaten them all. They did many trips last night, you know?” 

The owl chirped again, a little angry as he flew towards the window, as if saying «I too flew many trips last night» looking as indignant as a Towny Owl could. You added a few of the special snacks you kept for Reese just to keep him from biting you again. You looked at the name tag and realised who the owner of the owl had been. 

Eun-ji, Minho had told you about her, she was his family’s owl and apparently, the name meant something like “kind”. So much for a kind owl, you thought as you looked at her, gobbling up Reese’s treats. You leaned over when you noticed there was a small letter attached to his feet and took it in your hands before the owl flapped his wings and left. 

Merry Christmas Star Seeker,  Hope you’re having a great time. Thought of giving you a special thanks for that one time you –quite literally– pushed me towards my crush and got us to start a conversation, that, well, you know how great it ended!  Even for a Gryffindor, you’re really nice, so I thought of getting you something for you to get some more hate from your fellow Gryffindor, Eun-ji must have left the gift near your bed.

You turned to the side in the middle of reading and stood agape, there was not only a green and silver wrapped gift in what looked suspiciously like the shape of a snake, but there were also a bunch of other gifts wrapped in all sorts of colours. 

Anyway thanks for everything, hope you have fun and all. I’m looking forward to beating you all next time we play,   Love,  The one and only, and your favourite Slytherin, Minho Cha. 

You rolled your eyes at the last bit, it had been very Slytherin of him, but since you knew Minho, you also knew he was playing it off as a joke on his own house, which made a joke inside a joke and you thought it was actually kind of funny. 

You took a deep breath and walked over to your bed. There were all sorts of gifts prompted there and you decided to unwrap Minho’s first. There was a small, green snake plushie with a bow on it that had a small pendant with something written on it:  “From the snakes that love you dearly,” and then it had the names of all of your Slytherin friends: Minho, Comet, Nox, Reggie, and even some you weren’t expecting like Dorcas and Solacis. You thought it was an adorable little thing, even if –and you were certain of this– your friends would absolutely hate it. Well, not Lily, she’d also think it was adorable. 

And thinking of her, was that you picked the next gift, wrapped in pink and yellow paper, and with her a small dedicatory on the corner, you instantly knew it was from her, her neat and perfect handwriting being the dеad giveaway. You smile as you read her small dedication. She wished you a very, merry Christmas and promised to tell you everything about the train with James as soon as you saw each other in person. She wrote something along the lines of not being able to put it on paper, which made you laugh. 

When you opened the present you were thrilled, it was a small leather notebook, dark red with golden trims and your name on the cover. Not Vixen, not Starshine, or any of the other nicknames that you had come to own and love since you arrived at Hogwarts, but your name. You smiled as you traced your fingers over the letters. There was a pen on the side, golden and apparently of some interesting muggle technology that wasn’t that popular in the wizarding world. You thought it was fascinating. When you opened the notebook you realised there was something written, again in her handwriting. 

You’ve had more adventures this year than I’ve had in my lifetime. I think it’s time for you to start writing down some of them, in case you ever want to revisit them. If journaling is not your thing (which I feel like it would be because I know you), you can just use this notebook however you want. You know grocery lists, songs for mixtapes, your favourite lyrics, poems, quotes, Sirius’ doodles, your doodles,  dried flowers, stickers, whatever you want, it’s your space, and you may use it as you wish! Love, Lily

You thought the idea of having your own journal was brilliant, you always admired her for keeping hers so incredibly neat looking, and perhaps being able to let some of your feelings go on a blank page would be better than keeping them bottled up. You doubted you would be nearly as consistent as her, but you decided to add your first couple of words in there, detailing the gifts you’d gotten and the few you still had yet to open. 

You’d gotten a box of your favourite candies from Mary and some incredible quidditch trading cards from Marlene, but she had also added some makeup to her gift because if not you and James would have gotten the exact same thing and you were her favourite between the two. You got a spellbook and a muggle prank book from Tom “to further your career” according to him. There was a large, embossed book from Nina, which you discovered was an annotated version of one of your favourite books and a small set of runes from Sybil. You had gotten her a deck of cards and a book about premonitions. 

There were candies from Nox and a muggle book lantern from Neil Perry, you had both complained at some point about reading with your wand and you thought the solution he’d found was adorable. Peter had gotten you a book about canines, packed along with a small fox-themed bookmarker and a note that said “Thank you for not busting my make-out session and Merry Christmas.” He also added, “PS. maybe with this one you’ll be able to tame Pads.” Which had you wheezing with laughter for a while. 

It took at least a minute to go for the next gift, it was a small box that said to be handled carefully. You opened it according to the instructions. “Shut the fuck up!” you said the moment you realized what was inside. A small Felix Felicis vial. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you repeated over and over again. “How did he even get his hands on it?” 

You picked up the paper from behind it, there was a small note. 

Okay say it: aside from Sirius, I AM your favourite Marauder.  You might be wondering, “How the hell did James get his hands on this?”. Well dear, I must say, I have contacts.  AKA my parents are expert potioneers and I somehow convinced Mum to brew one and that’s how I got my hands on it.  Now, I could have given it to any of my friends but I get the feeling you might be needing some of this soon enough. You know, from things I’ve seen and such (please don’t waste it on a quidditch match, though). Anyway, I know you’ll use it well, hope you have a very Merry Christmas!  Your favourite marauder AND bestest friend,  Prongs. 

You chuckled when you finished reading and went back to look at the vial with incredulity. Brewing one of these potions was arduous work, and it took weeks, which meant James must have had convinced Effie to do it even before she’d met you. Never underestimate James Potter, you thought as you grabbed onto the vial and placed it around your neck with a chain, casting a disillusionment charm on it so it wouldn’t be so obvious you had it with you. You thought the gift was brilliant. 

After that, there were only 2 gifts left. You picked the one with a silver bow first. It was a square box, about 12” wide, and had been wrapped in the same paper as James’, which made you guess who it might be from. There were chocolates and a small letter on top, neatly closed and with your name written on the back with Sirius’ almost perfect calligraphy. There was also a paper covering something, but you picked the letter up first. 

You know, I tried writing a love letter, but James wouldn’t stop making ridiculous comments about it not being profound enough and I feared I’d end up writing something close to the painfully ridiculous letters he used to write to Lily so I had to stop myself.  Who would have thought it would be that hard to put thoughts into words? I suppose if I were like Remus it would come out much easier but, unfortunately, you’re stuck with me. Actually no, fortunately you’re stuck with me, I’m delightful.

You laughed, he’s not wrong. 

Anyway, I suppose what I wanted to express in those dreadful attempts of being a poet was that I’m incredibly thankful that you came to Hogwarts and that you came back to me. I’m grateful that you tolerate me and my moods and that you love me for who I am, flaws and all. I wasn’t sure I’d ever found that kind of love, one that I even doubted it existed, and yet you’re always there to tease and make me laugh and– I already sound like James, but you know what I mean. You always know what I mean.  As you see, I am far from a poet, but there is something I like to do and I thought that perhaps, you’d enjoy it more than this terrible love letter.  You know, you and Remus were the first to ever see a sketch from my book, and I was feeling all sorts of things after I offered, and yet, you were there, reassuring me and telling me I didn’t have to do it if I didn’t want to. You know Walburga, it wasn’t much of a choice for me, so it truly meant the world, and fed me the courage I needed to let you see that part of me. And when you two finally saw it and praised me for my skills, for what I did with my own hands… You make me so incredibly gleeful, it’s almost scary how much power you could hold over me. But frankly, I’ll let you hold it all you want.  All right, enough of the sappy stuff, Merry Christmas Starshine, you know you shine brighter than my own star. Hope you like your gift.  Love,  Sirius 

See the letter here

You read the letter a few more times, smiling at the little details and jokes Sirius had sprinkled all over. And then you pulled on the bit of tissue paper covering the very last thing in the box and when you finally saw its content you couldn’t help but swear again, “Son of a bitch!” you whispered. 

There were still some small pieces of paper over the small portrait, and you carefully brushed them out to be able to lift it from the box. The image was a hand-drawn portrait of you. You had a big smile and were looking at what would be the camera if it were an image. It looked like it might have been from one of the pictures from Marlene’s party although Sirius had changed the outfit, you were wearing an oversized sweater and his leather jacket. You could tell it was his because it had one of the enamel pins you had gotten him as a gift on the lapel. 

There were touches of colours in the strokes, not quite painting the drawing but rather giving it relatively bright edges that made it look special, unlike any other doodle. And of course, he had framed it, it was a simple yet elegant frame, dark oak and with small carved details on the sides. On the left bottom corner of the drawing, there was something written in French: 

À l'étoile la plus brillante.  Amour, 

And then, instead of his name, he signed with a small and elegant star doodle. You smiled again, it was one of the loveliest things you’d ever gotten, even if it was a portrait of yourself, the fact that Sirius had been the one to draw it, made it the most special of things. There were portraits upon portraits of you in your house, with magic that allowed you to move and smile, and even talk sometimes, but none of them held as much value as the frozen drawing Sirius had given you. 

Eventually, you placed it on your night table and picked up the last gift still sitting in your bed. His box was smaller than Sirius’, about the size of a book, which had you assumed he had gotten you something along the lines of that. 

You opened the book and found a small, pocket-sized book. It was a Sreath Bàrdachd, according to the golden script at the top. You hadn’t quite realised as you pulled it from the box, but it was handmade. You looked at it in shock as you flipped to the 50+ pages, all in carefully and methodically written cursive, his handwriting. 

Later you realised it was something between a book of poems and a compilation of quotes from different books. You admired the booklet for a few more minutes when you spotted that there was a small letter, still waiting for you inside the box. You pulled it off and broke the seal with a small sword letter opener Nox had given you as a gift. 

As you did, a small chain fell from the letter and you picked it up. It was small and dainty, just long enough to wrap around your wrist, which made you wonder how he’d guessed the size. The chain was simple, and it broke off into two different sections, one with a small crescent moon and then another one with a small star. It also had one small gemstone in between the bigger charms. You looked at it with a smile and held it in your hand as you read the letter. 

Hey there, Little Witch,  Hope you’re having an incredible Christmas. By the time you read this, you’ve probably seen the Sreath Bàrdachd, and knowing how clever you are, you probably already know what that could mean. Yes, It’s a book of poems, but also a bit more than that.  I knew Sirius was making you that incredible gift of his, and I didn’t want to fall behind. Prongs didn’t tell us what he got you but he seemed pretty confident he’d have the best gift of all. Did he?  Never mind, don’t tell me, it’s a silly competition. Either way, I thought you might like having one of these. Mum used to have one, which is why I know they exist. She told me a good friend gave it to her and she has kept it ever since then. I remembered borrowing it from her once when I was little, and she taught me how to carefully flip through the pages as she read to me. She also mentioned it was a silly girl’s thing but I thought it was amazing, and went on to make my own.  Although wonky and, with quotes from children’s books, she thought I was quite a mastermind for making it by myself. Of course, I put a lot more effort into the one you have with you now. Or perhaps the same effort but with better skills. If you’ve flipped through the pages, which I assume you have, since you’re incredibly curious, you’ve probably seen some familiar quotes.  There’s stuff from books we’ve both read and stuff that only I have read but that I thought you might like. Some of my favourite poems too, and some quotes from movies that only you’d be able to get. There are even lyrics from songs, some that we really like, some that Sirius has heard so many times that I already knew them by memory, and since the two of you like similar music, I assumed you’d know them too.  Also, there’s a small bracelet in the letter. I’ve cross-charmed it, in case you ever lose the Sreath Bàrdachd (I truly hope you never do), the gemstone will shine as you approach it. I’ve also added a few luck charms that, while they won’t keep you away from trouble –I don’t think anything could– they may give you some luck while navigating it.  Don’t hit me for saying that, you know it’s true.  Love,  Moony.  PS. Prongs told me about your little quarrel with Sirius on the platform, Sirius definitely misses you more.

See the letter here

By the time you finished Remus’ letter, you were smiling as brightly as you had when you read Sirius’. You were so lucky you had found such incredible people in Hogwarts. Your bedsheets filled with torn wrapping paper were a testament to that. You spend the rest of the afternoon listening to some more music and reading through the book Remus had made. 

He had been especially careful with his handwriting which you thought was adorable, and there were a lot of quotes from Oscar Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Grey. He had written in pencil –so you could erase it if you wanted, not that you would– that it was your fault he was obsessed with his writing now. Taking poems and quotations from both, the book aforementioned and The Ghost of Canterville. You hadn’t read the latter yet, but you were almost counting the days to go back to school and ask him to lend you his copy. 

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and you had to leave the warm comfort of reading and listening to music in favour of changing into the clothes your mom had chosen for you. You sighed as the alarm clock you’d set earlier went off, and then went straight towards your closet. The dress she had picked was simple, yet elegant. It wasn’t a long dress like the one she’d probably wear, but a more youthful one with clever intricate details on the sleeves and a midi skirt.  

“Thank god it has sleeves,” you whispered to yourself as you pulled the edge of the sleeve of Sirius’ shirt up. While your skin looked almost smooth, the lighter (almost silvery) shapes where the new skin was growing over the gush Moony had made were pretty evident. You supposed makeup and a spell could make them less visible, at least for a while, but that would have probably taken you a lot more time to achieve. 

You plopped the black dress on, smoothing the sides as walking towards your vanity where your mum had left all the potions and make-up. You sighed, remembering how much more fun it had been to dress for the Gryffindor parties than it was to dress for this one. With the black dress and the pearls on your neck, you felt a lot more like you were about to walk into a funeral rather than a party. My own funeral, you thought with a laugh when you remembered whose house you’d actually be going to. 

You grabbed a pair of red, not-too-high heels, put them on, and took another look in the large mirror by the window. You looked lovely, at least there would be no complaints from your parents on that aspect. What they might complain about was the fact that you took a bag with an undetectable extension charm and filled it with a few of the books you’d gotten as a Christmas gift. You also took the journal Lily had given you and Remus’ Sreath Bàrdachd. And you weren’t sure who’d be attending that party but you sure hoped you’d be able to sneak into a corner and read a book rather than having to interact with some of the most disagreeable friends of your parents. 

“Sweetheart, are you ready?” your mom asked from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, coming,” you said as you grabbed a few more trinkets and dumped them in your bag, just in case. 

You were about to leave the room when you saw a small glistening thing in your bed and you went straight to grab it. It was the bracelet Remus had given you, and even if it took you a while to put it on, and you continued looking between your wrist and the door as you tried to get the clasp to do its job, you thought it was worth it. I could really use that extra luck. You thought. You accommodated the necklace Sirius had given you and that you never took off and then took off James’ potion and placed it on your bag since it might be safer there than around your neck. 

One last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in order and you walked out towards the living room. 

“You look delightful, darling,” your father said as he spotted you walking out of the room. 

You gave him a half shrug in response and then managed to mutter a “thanks” that you hoped didn’t sound as bitter as it felt. After another moment of silence, your mom grabbed her bag and finished clipping on one of her earrings. 

“We’ll take the floo?” you asked. 

Your father shook his head, “They’ve sent over a Portkey,” your mom explained and motioned to the table, there was a small, fancy-looking invitation right in the middle. 

“Nice,” you said as you used your wand to levitate the object and move it right in between your parents. Perhaps if it had been floo, you could have sneakily said James’ address instead of Evan’s and escaped the party altogether. Once there, your parents wouldn’t make a fuss about it in order to not make your insubordination evident. But of course, you weren’t that lucky, and you’d have to take the portkey and you’d have to go to the party. 

“In three,” your father said as he moved his hand towards the invitation, “two… one… go.” 

The three of you placed your hands on the invitation at the same time and you felt the very familiar pull on your lower back, in less than a second, the entire world distorted around you, and then, you weren’t in your house anymore.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Aww that was so cute wasn't it? Now it's time to strap on, we're about to dive head-first into the darkest side of the story, and it's going to be fun and sad and just a rollercoaster of emotions in general. Love, Lils xx

Read more Marauders Fiction

[beemo-clippin]

Etho talking about his cats over the years

Clipped from "Etho Plays Minecraft - Episode 276: You've Been Etho'd" (26:59-28:26) and "Etho Plays Minecraft - Episode 587: Trial Chambers" (4:38-5:47)

Transcript and video description below cut:

Video description:

Etho's POV in the base of his Let's Play world. The date appears in the bottom corner reading, "2013." Etho holds a book in his hand, the question of the day. While introducing his cats, he stands in a smelting room. As he talks about his one cat Snuckles, he walks across a river and stands near it. After saying how smart she was, he roams his base more, across the river, two bridges, and up a flight of stairs.

Sliding transition to Etho's POV at a swamp in his Let's Play world. The date appears in the bottom corner reading, "2024." Etho watches a black cat floating in the lake before him. After a couple seconds, Etho takes a rocket and flies across the lake, then deeper into the swamp, and the cat teleports next to him as he goes. He wanders the swamp and keeps the cat in his sight as he talks about Shadow and her kittens.

Transcription:

Etho (2013): I had a lot of cats growing up like, uh, outdoor cats. And they were... they were pretty cool, I liked them. They kept to themselves.

------

Etho (2013): There was this one... one cat I had, Snuckles. Um. She- Like she was a- she had kittens and stuff. She was a mother. And she was crazy, she would like go in the water, like choose to go in the water herself. Like- and, like, hunt ducks *chuckle* in the water. Catch them and then like bring them back for her- for her kittens, like just crazy cat.

Uh, always looked both ways before crossing the road. Just really, really smart and brave and very friendly to people, you know. She would, like, if she ever had kittens, you could go see them and she would just love to show- show you her kittens. It was pretty cool *laughs* Uh, so that was probably my favorite cat growing up.

------

Etho (2024): When I was a little kid, I had a black cat like this named Shadow. Green eyes but it had a bright pink nose and, like, the black coat. Super, super shiny silky smooth black coat on. It was a very nice cat. Super friendly! But it wasn't a needy cat, like it would stay, you know, within four feet of you. But it didn't need to be like at your feet kind of thing. Um, it just liked to be around you kinda. Um.

But it did this interesting thing like it was about to have kittens. And rather than, like, having the kittens at our home, she just vanished on us, and we're like, "oh... oh no" Did she get hit by a car? Did a coyote get her? You know, we assumed the worst.

But then a month later, she comes back to her home like nothing ever happened with her kittens, she had like five kittens. And she was all friendly again and she wanted us to check them out, show them- show us her new kittens. And she was all excited for us to to interact with them, you know. And then we go to pet them and they're like, "RAWR!" *laughs* They're feisty! They had claws already. They did not want to be petted.

[atxxzist]

the crown prince | c.s

summary: with the fall of the king, the kingdom of utopia rest on prince san's hand. but when bounties are put on his head as the consequence of his ancestors' actions, he realize there's a backlog of history to undo and a lot more to prove that he's deserving of being the rightful ruler

pairing: choi san x f!reader

genre: prince!san, commoner!y/n, medieval au, angst, fluff, suggestive

word count: 19k

(ao3) if you don't like lapslock

age 8:

you live in the fifth district, the poorest and most rundown of all districts, sitting at the bottom of the kingdom with a large body of water surrounding it.

the only remarkable thing about the place is the port that's often used for traveling in and out of the kingdom. other than that, rarely anyone from other districts would come down unless they want to be at risk of a flood--which always striked the district the hardest out of any others.

but even then, despite the limited portions of food your family has to survive on each day, or the hardrock wood mattress you guys have to sleep on that frequently gives your aging father back pain, life doesn't seem all that bad.

you still have your family and a roof over your head, and a mind too young and optimistic.

age 10:

just two years after, you soon find out how hard it really is for a kid living in the fifth district, and especially one without parents or someone to love and care for them.

the fishermen had said your parents fell overboard and their bodies couldn't be recovered.

you couldn't believe it at first that no one looked even the least concerned or urgent to search for your parents, but you soon learn that their lives are meaningless, and the people that threw you out after their death made sure you knew so is yours.

"ay, kid, we could leave you out here to die if we really want to," one of the tall, scary looking man says after your episode of protesting and crying starts to annoy him.

and easily like that, they both leave you in the orphanage that's already overcrowded with other children of similar circumstances.

you lose everything in one day; the house your father built from scratch, along with anything that's ever been handmade by your mother, it's all gone. they're both gone, and you feel yourself withering away with all the loss.

before the age of eleven, you become nothing more than a ward of the district and the responsibility to a bunch of strangers who probably doesn't care whether you live or die.

age 11:

it only takes a year for you to become almost nothing like the person you were once before who was cheerful and optimistic.

all of it beat out of you, watching every day as some of the children gets yelled at or punished for doing something so trivial, it desensitized you to the point you're no longer surprise to hear someone get told no one else would want them outside of the orphanage.

you don't talk to anyone or attempt to make any friends. you keep to yourself and would often read any books you could find or hunt for any sewing materials during the few time of the day they let you guys out.

age 12:

during dinner, you hear the group of kids sitting at the nearby table talk about the upcoming coronation of the prince.

"it's not even like we're gonna get to see it," one of the girls squeak, seemingly uninterested in the topic as she pokes her food because it's true.

events like that, especially any celebrations or gatherings are only reserved for those in the second and first districts, who are usually of noble and royal status. not nobodies like you guys down here living off of scraps and remnants.

"i want to see how the prince looks like," another boy adds with a mischievous tone.

you, too, want to see what the prince looks like, but you most likely never will. he won't come here and the chances of you going up there is damn near impossible, it might as well be good as a dream.

but all of the children agrees that he's the luckiest kid in the kingdom, and for that, they hate him for it.

age 13:

through the years, you've been watching as kids go and new ones would come in.

those that left were lucky to have gotten moved or adopted into a household that were willing to take them in, and you, like all the other kids in here, tired of the overcrowding and deteriorating state of the orphanage, hope that a kind family will one day swoop you away.

but it doesn't happen at age thirteen, and you continue to share a bunk with the same girl from three years ago who's been here longer than you.

age 14:

the states of the lower districts only seems to decline as you get older with the corrupted hierarchy and the rich taking all the resources for themselves.

for hundreds of years--you've learned, that it's always been bad, but everything's looking far worse than it has even four years ago.

but with the conditions in the lower three districts deteriorating, the citizens are growing more vocal, bitter, and resentful of those that resides in peace while everyone else is suffering.

the disparity not only made everyone despite the higher ups, but also each other as the stresses of the poor states get to them. and with you living in one of the three's, it made you harbor a hatred toward the top two districts as well, unable to see them past anything but greedy and power-hungry.

slanders of the royal family increased then. talks of overthrowing the king or starting a war for equal resources for all districts, and some even saying they'd rather swim across the ocean to reach kingdom aurora than to live in this "hellhole". but at the time, they were nothing but empty threats to make one feel better.

age 15:

you were so scared at first, hearing of all the horror stories told by the older, taunting kids who's gonna get moved into a family soon, that you're gonna be unlucky for the rest of your life and not get chosen like them.

that you're just gonna stay here until some lowly men decides to buy you off, or probably meet a worse fate.

but one sudden day when the director of the orphanage comes running into the dining hall and announces to all the kids to be on their best behaviors because someone from the second district is going to be coming down the next day, your life changes for the better at the age of fifteen.

you didn't think you had a chance at all, but you still wanted to try because no matter the intense dislike you hold for the two higher districts, if there's an opportunity for a better life, you're going to take it.

it's better than staying here and suffering. everyone else is becoming desperate and you're not any different.

the lady comes the following day as expected, her carriage alerting the entire place of her arrival as all the kids are on their knees with desperation in their eyes.

you guys have never had any visitors from a district so high up before, so this is very crucial.

when she walks in, everyone bows to welcome her, the sight as equally mesmerizing to others as it is to you. never in your life have you seen anyone with so many pearls and jewels, the gown she's wearing made of only the best materials.

it then hits you harder that however this lady decides to take you in, you're going to be living a comfortable life no matter what.

she takes one look around the room, all the children secretly crossing their fingers and it's when her eyes land on you and her lips turn up into a smile.

the director tells her you're a good kid. often guarded and doesn't really get along with the others, but well behaved nonetheless.

it feels weird to be the one everyone's envious of when you were usually on the opposite spectrum, but now passing all the kids as you make way to the front door, all their burning gazes planting a seed of guilt because you understand the feeling all too well.

but with the nation in this state, all anyone can do is look out for themselves. eventually, their time will come, and this just so happens to be yours.

the lady sits you down in the carriage next to her while the coachman leads the way back. she informs you will be working under the family as a servant but will be provided housing, food, and even freedom from time to time.

"i heard you like sewing."

you nod shyly at her words.

"i learned it from my mother."

"good. then you will have the opportunity to hone the skill."

the trip to the second district takes a total of three days, the only times you guys stopped was for food or toilet breaks. when the coachman announces the arrival, your first time seeing the scenery is that to of a fish fresh out of water.

you didn't even know trees or grass could be that green. or that it's not always supposed to feel like a sense of dread that takes the smiles off people's faces until they just look straight miserable.

it's as if you've entered a completely different nation, unable to comprehend the huge difference already, even in comparison to the third district.

the lady is quick to disappear into the house almost the size of the orphanage itself, calling for someone else to escort you around and show what the next couple of years (and possibly, the rest of your life) has in store for you.

you're to wake up at 5am everyday to prepare food for the noble family, and will be sharing a chamber with three other female servants: the main cook, the main cleaner, and another young girl about your age.

you're only allowed to wander during weekends with authorization and is only to go out for groceries or other necessities. other than that, any rule breaking will have consequences.

for the next couple of days, you practice the routine.

waking up in the early morning and prepping breakfast, then cleaning, and repeat for lunch and dinner. sometimes, you'd get to do different tasks like helping the noble daughter pick out a dress or shoes for the day, but that's only if you get called.

you pick up the cooking and cleaning quite fast because you used to help your parents a lot. and though the work hours can be tiring, the food you're eating and the place you sleep in is a lot better.

you also get the occasional freedom and access to improve your seamstress skills, and it's not the ideal life, but it is the best one for someone like you.

--

you hear a grunting sound close by one morning when you decide to wake up earlier than usual.

turning to the source, you see a figure far away near the tall gates, prancing around in his heavy armors with a sword in his hand. the sight definitely amazes you as you're only able to stare in awe before accidentally creating a ruckus that catches the attention of the stranger as he turns around.

it's still dark and you can't see his face very well, only until he starts walking toward you.

"can i help you?" he asks, voice a type of husky but innocent.

"oh, no." you shake your head, "i was just uhm... watching."

he chuckles and looks to the ground, your eyes trained on the way his dark hair ruffles along with his movements until he's staring at you again, finally out of the poor lighting.

he's cute and has childlike features. definitely not an appearance that gives away he could probably slice you dead right now if he wants to.

"you're the new worker," he vocalize, and it takes you a second to figure how he knew, following his gaze to the door of the chamber behind you.

"ah, yes i am." you nod.

"cool. well, i'm the gatekeeper. jongho."

"gatekeeper?" you crank an eyebrow, so far behind on rich people terminology, you have no idea what that means.

"i just protect and patrol the place in case of any intruders. it sounds fancy but it's really not. you don't have to keep it formal, though. we're all servants here."

"i see." you smile tight-lipped.

he also does look a little too young to be manhandling weapons or putting his life on the line, but you too, are also too young to be losing your parents and getting sold off as a servant.

for anyone in the lower three districts, it is all for survival.

you soon learn that jongho was born in the fourth district but he's been living and training here for so long, he can barely recall his time there.

and you're not sure what it is about him that makes you open up given the fact you've been closed off for so long ever since your parents death and the comprehension of the cruel world you're living in, but through the year and before you turn sixteen, you find your first true friend in choi jongho.

age 16:

you get acquainted with hongjoong, a friend of jongho and a messenger who travels in and out of the districts to deliver any important information.

you're not sure how he keeps his identity on the low in spite of the growing tension between all the districts, but jongho assures you he has his ways.

jongho spends his days training with many kinds of weapons; swords, spears, daggers, crossbows, and just about everything when he's not guarding the house--which he usually isn't because the second district is still relatively safe at this time.

but if there is any outside attackers, it would be jongho's and the other men's responsibilities to protect the noble family. it's what they've all been trained for.

you still cook and clean, and your sewing skills have gotten increasingly better that you also started picking up embroidery.

on the occasion, jongho would teach you how to use a dagger just so you'd have some knowledge of self defense and protection considering the alarming state of the nation.

and now that you're living under people of noble status, royal parties and balls were the standards. not that you'll ever get to attend them for yourself, always hearing about it for an alternative or watching the noble family dress up in pretty attires that cost hefty coins before they waddle off in their carriage into the first district.

hongjoong returns a week later, informing you and jongho that the conditions, especially in the fifth district, is really bad that some citizens have decided to risk their lives in hope of reaching the kingdom of aurora since ships and boats cannot be sailed without approval from the royal family.

"it's basically a death sentence to be living in any of the lower districts at this point. i fear if the king doesn't do anything about it, a civil war may be on the horizon."

age 17:

not much changes and hongjoong has said that the king, along with other royal and noble families, refused to take actions since the dividing of resources for all the other districts would cause the first and second to falter because they do not have enough for everyone.

it's better to keep some afloat than to put the entire nation at risk.

"but sir, that's only going to keep running the citizens out of the nation, and the ones that do stay are becoming angry. the first organization against the royal family already formed, calling themselves outlaws. and they're not just ordinary citizens. they could infiltrate the two higher districts if they want to. a solution is not to only keep them happy, but to also prevent a war."

"then strengthen the security. we also have equally skilled men, if not, more. send any able-bodied men to the gates of the first and second district and don't let anybody from the lower threes enter."

age 18:

things only get worse. nobody is allowed to travel freely between the districts anymore and anyone from the first two were strongly advised not to go down because the chances of getting robbed or assaulted are high.

the four working men in the house dwindled down to two because the other two, including jongho, would be sent to guard the entrance. but during rotation when he gets to come back to sleep and eat, he'd tell you that it's eerily quiet, but that all the lower districts know the higher ones are blocking off entrance and might retaliate soon.

"we should be prepared for the worst. hongjoong said the fact they're quiet might mean the organization is planning something."

age 19:

for a while, security at the entrance decreases when it looks like the lower districts weren't gonna try to do anything about it.

jongho and the other men in the house were able to stay around longer, sometimes even for a few days straight without going back, and the outrage did feel like it was just a false alarm.

no one in the higher districts, even hongjoong, were prepared for the storm that is after the calm.

"y/n! wake up!"

you groggily groan at the voice, sounding both hushed but eager as it jolts you from sleep.

it's jongho and he looks absolutely terrified, his figure hovering over your body still in bed.

"come on, y/n! we have to get going!"

you don't have the time to take in anything, jongho already pulling you up harshly to stand on your feet as you hurl out more groans and complaints.

"what's going on? i was sleeping, you know."

"the king is dead."

it's those words that makes you more awake than ever, unable to believe as you just stare dumbfoundedly while he ravages the drawers for more appropriate clothings.

"w-what? h-how?" you can barely form anything coherent at this point, your heart racing so fast.

"he was assasinated," jongho reveals, throwing a loose, oversized shirt at you. "we're not sure how they managed to get that far up the first district, but all this time, that must've been what they were preparing for--you need to get changed."

he throws you a pair of pants and continues speaking, at the same time going through almost the entire perimeter for anything that will prove useful.

you don't even care he's in the same room, your body going into shock and quickly pulling the night gown off before putting on what he gave you.

"hongjoong thinks they're planning a raid, starting from the second district and working their way up. if we stay here, we could get captured, held hostage, or whatever those outlaws want to do with us--here."

he finds the dagger he had given you sitting in the last drawer, pulling the extra sheath out of his pouch and running to tie it around your waist.

"keep this with you at all time, and remember what i taught you. just in case we ever get separated, you need to protect yourself," he demands, passing the dagger to you with an extremely serious look on his face along with the statement just now, making you queasy in the stomach.

you can't imagine having to part from jongho for whatever reason. you wouldn't know what to do.

he gestures to your shoes and you wear it quickly.

"now come on, let's go!" he grabs your wrist and your body flings forward, only managing to grab the pouch on top the dresser before your feet's following his steps out the door despite the lingering sleepiness and that you could be forgetting something else, but it's all happening so fast, your mind struggling to keep up.

you're about to ask him about the other servants, or the noble family, but as he whisk you into the nightly air, the breeze pushing past your skin, you realize that before jongho came, you were alone.

they all left you.

"where are we going?" you ask.

"down to the third district. hongjoong lended me a map and said to go through the forest, we'll catch less attention that way. he said we can stay at one of his hideouts for now."

for the next hours, you don't see anything but trees and branches in your way, and the moon high above the dark sky as it follows both you and jongho.

your feet tired and sore at this point, asking jongho to find a place to sit even for just a few minutes because you might just pass out.

"if we keep at this pace, we'll be able to make it to the third district by morning," he informs, handing over the costrel and telling you to drink.

you nod, passing it back after finishing, observing for a few seconds as jongho takes a couple sips.

"so where did everyone else go?" you finally bring up the question bothering you.

"to the lower districts. i heard some are hoping to reach the port so they'll get the chance to sail to aurora or dune, now that the royal family is in a crisis, people don't care anymore. but as you already know, we have limited ships and boats and it's going to be a bloodbath all around."

he goes on, "we only found out the king was dead when people from the first district started migrating, and then everyone in the second started panicking, and i honestly did too initially. i was about to start heading down until i remembered you."

you smile and nudge the boy with your elbow affectionately.

"if not for you, i probably would've turned into a corpse by tomorrow."

"pfft," he scoffs, "not a corpse but a captive maybe. their target is still the royal family, and now that the king is dead, they'll most likely go after the prince. the raid is just to scare people off so they can bask in the lavish that the first and second district has to offer. but still, it's better to be safe than sorry. they did killed the king, after all."

you take in the information, asking one last question.

"and where is hongjoong?"

"he was also in the second district at the time, but after lending me the map and instructions, he said he's gonna go up in order to get more details; hopefully talk to the prince and will report back in a few days."

"do you think he's going to be okay?"

jongho nods and stands up from the log, reaching his hand out to help you.

"he should be. he wouldn't be able to survive for this long if he isn't competent. but we should get going or else the trip will be delayed."

--

the hideout is a small shack in the corner of the wood, blending into the surroundings so perfectly, you and jongho almost missed it.

it's essentially a square with a single wooden bed, one chair, and a small table with an ewer sitting on top. jongho said the water in there should still be good to use, and that he brought enough breads to survive on for a few days.

"i can take the floor," he says, taking off the crossbow and sword that's been stuck to his body for an entire night and settling them down.

"we can take turns," you offer an alternative, pitying the boy because he's the one who's been doing most of the works.

"alright."

he nods it off. he wasn't gonna fight you on it.

you and jongho passes time by training for the majority of time. sometimes, you'd just watch, but when he isn't worn out by his own routine, he'd tell you the basics of a crossbow and a knightly sword and would proceed to watch you practice with the dagger.

"you're holding it like a coward who's never fought in their life," is his usual criticism.

"well maybe cause i am a coward who has never fought before," you will retort.

"when facing an enemy, you can't show that you're afraid. you have to believe in yourself."

"easy for you to say."

but regardless of his yapping that sometimes make you roll your eyes all the way to the back of your head, he's a good teacher and even complimented you. if saying that you're a lot less awful than when you started, counts.

three days later from when you both settled, the light, passive knock at the door alerts you and jongho, you almost wishing it was one of the outlaws, preferably a weaker member just so you can put what you've learned to use.

but it's hongjoong.

"so what did the prince say?" jongho asks, quick and eager.

"he's recruiting. said he'll take in anyone still willing to stand by his side while he figure things out. he needs time."

"what about the guards and men that were in the castle? isn't it their duty to protect the royal family?"

"more than half of them ran to the lower districts. the outlaws probably won't do much to a normal citizen, but they will be vile to anyone on the prince's side."

"and he didn't try to stop them?" you join, hongjoong turning his head to you and shaking.

"he said he wasn't gonna force anyone who didn't want to stay. but for those willing to fight by his side, he'll take them."

you don't mean to come off hypercritical, but you can't help but think that the prince is being careless.

"but the outlaws want him dead, no? he shouldn't be taking in just anybody. that's too dangerous."

hongjoong just shrugs.

"that was his order."

a silence hangs between the three of you after, and one glance at jongho, you see that conflicted look in his eyes and know that he's about to say something you won't like.

"i'll go."

you snap your neck to him so fast, there must've been a pop.

"what--jongho, no," you object, worry in your tone. hongjoong just standing by and watching the incoming dispute unfold.

"it's better than standing around and waiting for something to happen."

"but putting your life on the line? for all you know, there might not even be a solution at all. look at the state of the kingdom. people are running away, everyone fearing for their own safety. in the end, you could be dying for nothing. did you forget it's because of these people that us born in the lower districts have to live a shit life?"

by now, you're both facing each other and fuming through your noses.

"and did you forget that we haven't been to the lower districts in years? ever since we got the opportunity to move into one of the top two? even if we were just servants, we were living better than a normal family in the fifth district. i was guarding and blocking off an entrance because i was so much better than the people trying to get through. you think i enjoyed doing that shit? no. but it was my job. in some ways, we betrayed our roots, y/n. and you're right. the prince could be lying and stalling out of his ass, but you know... i'm hoping that he's not. because for once, i want to feel like i'm doing something worthy. i didn't train all my life just to guard gates where nothing ever fucking happens nine out of ten times."

you watch in disbelief as he turns to pick up his crossbow and sword.

"so whether you like it or not, i'm going."

he gives hongjoong a stern look, to which the older man returns one, but is soon carried away by your voice again.

"then i'm going with you."

and jongho knows he's going to sound like a hypocrite; the fact he cares for you as much as you care for him so he doesn't want you to put yourself in the face of danger.

he also understands that you share the same sentiment in regard to him, which is why you don't want him to go.

"no. it's safest for you to stay here. you don't have the same training and combat that i do. you can barely hold a dagger the right way and it's one of the most light and basic weapon. those outlaws will pummel you like a bug."

you roll your eyes and you can see hongjoong trying to hold in his laughter.

"well geez, thanks, master. but boohoo. all i know is that i need to stab," you snark, managing to pull a small smile from jongho before switching tone. "i'm serious, though. i know i'm not gonna be pounding anyone, but i'd still like to come with. it would put a lot of my worries to rest knowing you're alive and okay."

"i'll be fine, y/n," he assures, one hand on your shoulder, "and if it'll make you feel better, if hongjoong doesn't mind, he can come once in a while to inform you of what's going on."

you meet hongjoong's gaze at that and he nods with a thin smile.

but that's still not good enough for you because how can you possibly be okay with the only person you can call family, going off and risking his life?

you're not.

which is why when they both finally depart, you wait until they're a good distance away yet still visible to the eye, tying the sheath the way jongho did and sticking your dagger in before taking the costrel he left for you along with the remaining breads and following right behind them.

hongjoong used to travel on horseback but he has to be more discreet this time around, especially going up the higher districts.

you're somewhat thankful for that because you're not sure you can keep up if that was the case.

you stop when they stop, and rest when they rest. you would try listening in on their conversations but it's always inaudible from where you're at.

you put aside the pain of an aching feet or fear of the nightly forest, afraid you would give yourself out.

two days later, you're sure you guys are close. a part of you somewhat curiously pumped because you've never wander up the first district before.

with the sun setting and the stars soon to come out, you're hoping to arrive before it gets too dark because you really are dreading the idea of spending another night hidden behind itchy bushes.

dragging yourself up the steep hill, you can't help but to admire the scenery, the air of utopia still fresh and the birds still chirp like the nation is whole, resuming your steps only to see that you've lost sighting of jongho and hongjoong, and if you're any quicker, they will catch on.

you don't panic just yet, although you're getting nervous, but carrying on because the castle shouldn't be too far from here. as soon as you can spot it, it should be easy to trace it back to the two.

the only problem is how you're gonna get in once you reach it.

as you get closer to the top, you can spot the castle's head peaking, and once finally on flat land, you're able to see the entire thing, and the dazzling white architecture is hard to miss.

the heart and soul of utopia planted right in the center of the first district, and you've never seen anything more sophisticated in your entire life. but as you sneak closer, you're sure that you're not even gonna make it past the portcullis.

if you don't find jongho, you'd be coming all this way for nothing.

--

you've been watching the guards at the gate and their patterns of behavior for the last hour, every time inching closer to the entrance with the least amount of noise as possible.

but you should've known. you've overestimated your ability (by a large margin) thinking you can outsmart people who does this for a living, and of all places, it had to be royal family's. stupid.

you barely take a step when the pressure of a sharp object against your back make your eyes go wide in horror.

you're thinking this is it. you should've listened to jongho and should have not acted like such a know-it-all, because the next time he sees you, it will be in corspe form.

the beating of your heart is loud along with the stranger's breathing, their hand going retrieve your dagger from the sheath, and if they attack, you will have no other way to defend yourself.

"who the hell are you and why are you sneaking around my castle?" the deep, masculine tone drowns your ears.

my castle?

you foolishly turn around like an idiot, feeling the pressure of the object move to your neck instead, looking up at this mysterious stranger but unable to make anything out.

the running of footsteps and commotion can be heard from behind you, a series of voices and better lighting approaching with all the torches in the guards hands, and when you're finally able to make out the pair of eyes staring back, it feels as if you forgot how to breathe.

because if it isn't the most beautiful man you've ever seen, dark locks, sly and sharp eyes to that of a fox that looks disapproving of your choices before it turns slightly softer when he sees how harmless you actually look, the weapon in his hand lowering with a clear of his throat.

"what part of 'it's safest if you stay here' did you not understand?"

jongho's loud and frustrated voice echoes through the entire hall, pacing back and forth in place as he reprimands you in front of hongjoong, the prince, and his other royal companions.

the prince (who you have to make a point one more time that he's devastingly beautiful) was unexpectedly casual when you explained to him you were looking for your friends, even returning your dagger.

"i only came because i was worried about you. i know you would do the same for me."

"yes, but something could've happened to you. you could've gotten lost, or worse."

"as you can see, i'm fine. the most life threatening thing was the prince putting a knife to my back and neck."

"because you were limping around the castle like an idiot."

"well, what was he doing outside of it anyways?"

"why are you talking about the prince like that!" he yells, and the both of you having an awakening at the same time, registers how embarrassing and inappropriate it actually is to be having a screaming match in the royal family's hall, turns to the prince and bow in apology.

"sorry," you both mutter.

"it's fine," the prince dismisses.

when you were still living at the orphanage, some of the kids would often play guessing games about the prince just because the chances of ever meeting him were close to none, everyone might as well get creative.

some assumed he's a snob because kids being kids, they were all jealous of the fact he was living better, and so it's only natural he would think he's better than everyone else.

then some thought he looked like a troll, which was why the king and queen kept him inside most of the time.

none of you guys knew a lot about the prince, but there were words on the street that he almost never went out of the castle; some even using that as confirmation for why he's a stuck-up.

but after meeting him, he's nothing like the kids have predicted.

he definitely does not look like a troll or sound like a snob, at least so far. he's actually rather soft-spoken, though a bit aloof and stoic. but you suppose one isn't gonna be jolly after the death of their father.

--

jongho had insisted that you go back immediately, and you were considerate of the castle's deities enough to pull him outside just to object.

but you only got another line in the quarrel before the prince intervened and much to jongho's dismay, said you could stay for the night since it was getting late and traveling would be difficult.

"but you're leaving as soon as the sun comes up!" he proceeds to nag the entire time you tuck yourself to bed, the prince kindly offering a spare chamber for you to stay in.

"yes. i know," you reply, all snarky tone and turning to face the other way because he's getting on your nerves.

there's a quick silence before the edge of the bed creaks with his weight.

"look, i know you only came because you were worried about me, and you're right, i would do the same for you."

you toss slowly to look him up in the eyes from your position.

he goes on, now locking you in his gaze, "but it's way too dangerous for you to stay here, and we don't know when they're going to attack. and worse, if they see you're in alliance with the prince, who knows what they'll do? i'll be fine. this is what i've trained my whole life for. you just have to believe in me."

you sigh and frown, finally deciding to cave because you do know that jongho is capable. you've never doubted him. it's the opponents that you're unsure of, their next moves could be anything.

"i'll go back, but hongjoong still needs to follow the end of the deal."

jongho smiles warmly, relieved you're no longer trying to fight him on this.

"he'd be happy to."

you nod, figuring that since you're already here, you might as well ask.

"so how many men volunteered?"

"for now, three. me, someone named yunho from the third district, and another guy named minjun. but more might wind up later, who knows."

"i still don't think it's smart of the prince to be taking in just anyone. it's way too risky. you have good intentions, but what about the two other?" you voice concernedly, your forehead starting to crease from the distress.

you just met the prince, but you know that the idea is ridiculous and you don't want him meeting the same fate as his father.

"optimism maybe? i don't know. more than half of the royal family's protections are gone so he probably can't be too picky. but i'd like to think he knows what he's doing."

but he's also still young and is currently in a worse position than his father, the king, who couldn't even save utopia. you don't think anybody is ready to be in his place, let alone lead an entire kingdom that's falling apart.

"alright. then you should return to the others; help them look after the prince. he's going to need it."

"actually, he ordered us to stay with the queen and princess."

you shoot up from position, incredulity written all over your face.

"what--why? all of you guys? then who's going to look after him?"

jongho shrugs.

"i disagree as well, but after all, he's the prince. we can't disobey orders."

"you guys should be allowed to if it's foolish. what is going on in his head?" you shake your own, unable to believe it.

you just know that something bad is gonna happen, and it would be due to the prince's own incompetence.

jongho has no idea either given he only just met him as well, but he's crossing his fingers the prince will prove both of you wrong.

"i have to go. you should get some rest because you'll be leaving in the early morning. i'll see you then."

--

you're woken up by a heavy disturbance, the ruckus happening outside of the room but also sounding so close.

it might be best if you stay here; leave whatever the noises is to the guards in the castle, but you just feel it in your guts that your prediction have came true.

carefully opening the door, you peek your head out, immediately drawn to the bright light illuminating at the end of the hall, and soon, your quick and eager feet has taken you to the shocking sight.

the prince standing before jongho and another guard as they hold back someone you can't quite recall. one of his hand tending to the cut on his left arm, and you can see the red seeping through the thin white fabric.

the prince meets your eyes when he notices you standing outside.

"i knew it!" you screech, your turn to pace back and forth as jongho watches from the side. "he shouldn't have just taken in anyone!"

you found out it was minjun, one of threes who volunteered along with jongho, who attacked the prince. apparently, he had snuck away from the other guards and was in the prince's room within minutes, a sword aimed at the young royal that could've taken his life.

"luckily, he only got off with a cut. i can't even imagine what would've happened."

jongho groans anxiously, the first day on the job and the reality of it already showing its head.

"there's nothing luck-based about the prince's survival," hongjoong's voice has you both turning as he appears from the opened door.

"prince san isn't only highly skilled in all areas of fighting, but he's the best warrior utopia has to offer. he most likely knew about the attack beforehand, which was why he only got away with a cut considering minjun also isn't just an average member of the outlaws," hongjoong reveals, the new information makes you and jongho gawk at each other in surprise.

"y/n," he calls out, and you detach from jongho's eyes to look at him.

"yes?"

"i need you to do me a favor. i trust you enough, and you look rather... harmless."

you pinch in your brows. if he wants to go off about your terrible fighting and self defense skill, he might as well just spell it out.

"the prince said he has a plan, but we're going to need to buy time. and no matter how skilled he is, we can't keep dealing with people coming into the castle in attempts to severe the prince's head. it's best if he's away until we can figure things out, for his safety and the kingdom's."

you only hum and nod, wondering where exactly this is going.

"he'll be leaving with you in the morning."

your face falls in horror, unable to believe they're entrusting the prince to you. the thoughts of being alone with someone like him both terrifying but weirdly stimulating.

"oh my gosh, she's blushing..." jongho yelps, a smirk tugging at his lips. he's seen the way you'd ogle at the prince, definitely something you never did to any other men.

"i'm not!" you cry defensively, embarrassed. "i-i just don't think i'm the right person."

"we just need the prince away from the castle for a few days. for now, it look like the outlaws are not planning on moving up the first district entirely, so the rest of us should be safe as well for the time being. you still remember the way back to the shack, right?"

you nod hesitantly.

"good. then it's settled."

--

the following morning, everyone bids farewell to the prince, the queen and princess wishing him well as the guards and hongjoong stack him with equipments, while jongho makes you carry the food and water.

he takes off the royal attire, disguising himself in commoner clothings instead, as recommended by his companion, wooyoung.

hongjoong promises to report back once things get relatively better.

at first, it's nerve-racking because you just can't help it. the prince is so handsome and your touch-starved body just reacts naturally, but once you figure he isn't gonna talk to you, only gesturing or murmuring out short instructions, the spark wears off.

"we should stop and rest for the night," he speaks more than three words for the first time, laying down his stuff and nodding to the tall tree.

"alright."

you settle your things down as well, plopping against the tree and waiting for him to do the same but he instead pulls out the sword and starts slashing the air.

when he takes notice of your gawking from behind, he apologizes.

"sorry, i'm just... practicing, hope you don't mind. you can rest, i'll keep watch."

you nod it off, sleep soon taking over, but when you wake a few hours later, able to tell from the different color painting the sky, the prince is still practicing and seems just as eager as he was before.

"prince," you call out, his movements halting in place as he turns back at the sound of your voice.

"call me san."

you clear your throat, "uh... san, have you slept at all?"

he shakes his head.

"i was practicing."

you stand up, dusting off the dirts from your pants and growing concerned regarding the sleepless prince.

"you can sleep. i'll keep watch and if there's anything, i'll wake you up," you offer, but he's quick to reject the proposal.

"no need to. i'm not tired anyways. if you're feeling fully rested, we can keep going. the sun is almost up."

you watch in dejection as he goes to retrieve his things because you're not sure you can believe he's not even the tiniest bit tired from everything so far.

--

it takes almost an entire day to reach the destination, your body tired and aching for something to sit on, the minute you reach the shack, you're sprawled all over the chair.

the prince looks just fine, though.

"it's small, but comfortable," you assure the prince just in case he has any doubts in mind. because you initially did, too, but it was surprisingly homey when you last stayed with jongho.

he nods, eyes roaming the small interior.

"it'll do."

"you can take the bed. i don't mind taking the floor," you tell him, but he instead shakes his head.

"the bed's all yours. i'll be outside practicing."

you scowl and sit up from your seat.

"again? we've been traveling all day. you should really get some rest considering you didn't get any the night before."

but he's stubborn, grabbing for his sword again as you can only sigh in disapproval.

"i really don't feel tired."

"then you should eat, at least."

"i'm not hungry."

you end up going to bed alone, only listening to the prince's grunting and slashing outside as he practices like he's trying to reach out to something or someone.

the uneasiness consuming you, seeing him always looking so miserable as if something's bothering him, unable to rest or do anything else.

it's understandable because of the circumstances he's in, but you wish he would be kinder to himself.

you only give him another two hours before taking matters into your own hand, flinging the door open to his figure dancing around the area with his sword, calling his name softly that makes him stop in track to look at you.

"enough," you mumble, quiet but stern, prying the weapon out of his hold with so much power, you think jongho would be proud.

"no, i have to pr--" he reaches for the sword but you move back, the prince grabbing only the nightly air in place.

"no, you don't," you spit, your free hand going to grab his wrist and dragging him back inside. "you need to eat and rest."

the sword clinks the flooring when you drop it, sitting san down on the bed and grabbing some of the breads and dried meat before taking the seat next to him.

"i understand you're going through a lot right now and it's tough, but you need to take care of yourself. you can't wear your body out or punish it. you're not even fully healed from the cut. if something happens, if worst comes to worst, you need to be prepared to fight."

you push the food toward him but he doesn't budge the slightest. his eyes trained on it, but everything else completely frozen.

for a second, you think all the efforts is gonna go to waste because the prince won't listen, but much to your surprise, he starts talking.

"my father and everyone around me would always say i was the best fighter in the entire kingdom; that i was one of a kind, gifted from a young age, and the future of utopia. i used to believe that as well, but what kind of prick can't even save his own father?"

a small gasp fall, fussing under your breath, "san..."

"maybe i'm only as great because i had the access and materials to become great. but in actuality, i would be no more than average in any other scenarios."

"san, you are great. hongjoong said you are, and you even fought off minjun. it's not your fault what happened to your father," determination in your delivery, finding yourself oddly caring for someone you barely knew.

"father did always lived every day as if it was his last. he knew everyone was out to get him..." he fidgets with one of the breads before taking a small bite out of it. "i thought it would make me feel better if i caught his killer, but i really don't feel any different."

"so hongjoong was right. you knew about the attack?"

you watch as he ogles at the piece of bread like it's the most interesting thing in the world, noddling lightly and taking another bite.

"somewhat, yeah. i was the one who found my father's body, and you can imagine… it's not easy for any kid to see their own parent blue in the face, lying lifeless in front of them, and especially knowing their murderer got away. it made me vengeful, but i couldn't act recklessly. i had to set up a bait because i didn't know who it was, but i knew they were coming."

you listen to each of his words so attentively, and you make sure he knows.

"it could've been your friend, jongho, or the others that came along. it could be anyone. it could be all of them. but regardless, whoever it was wanted me dead just like my father and wouldn't have passed up the chance."

you exhale, looking at the prince with sympathy and sadness in your eyes, all this time you really gave him too little credits, one of your hand somehow finding itself on top his resting one and soothing it.

"i can't do much, but i'm here to listen. if we're going to be together for a while, we might as well have each other's back."

and when san finishes his food and actually goes to sleep for the rest of the night (although you did have to fight him about sleeping on the floor), you finally feel at ease, able to go to sleep knowing he's not pushing himself.

san is the first thing you see upon waking up, his figure bending down a couple feet away and drinking out of the costrel.

he knows you're up from the movements, turning to meet your tired eyes.

"good morning."

"good morning, san."

"you should eat first. i left some out for you."

"oh, okay."

you nod politely, throwing the blanket off and getting up from the makeshift bed, but first telling him that you're gonna go wash your face.

"i checked the ewer. there's no more water in there."

"hmm," you hum, attempting to come up with a solution. "i'm gonna go down to the river. i'll be back in a bit."

"wait." his call stops you in track, half your body out the door. "i'd like to come with."

"is that okay? i mean... will that be safe?" because now that the prince is with you, you feel it is your responsibility to keep him out of danger no matter how unskillful you are. you don't want a single sighting putting his life on the line (more than it already is).

"we'll make it quick. besides, i need to wash up as well. i don't feel too clean from all those practices."

the river is actually quite close by, having never been there during your stay in this district but following the sound of nature was relatively easy to do. and you suppose hongjoong chose the spot for this reason.

once there, you're splashing your face immediately and rejoicing in the cool sensation, only just registering san's been watching you the entire time when you turn and meet his piercing gaze.

his expression blank before dropping to a smile at your wide-eye. and the first time that he does, you realize you've never seen him smile, ever. your attention taken away by the deep indentations appearing from his cheeks, and for just a second, your heart feels like it might explode.

but it's his turn with the river, you observing as he mimics you until both your faces are wet and raining with droplets.

"here," you say, pulling out the spare handkerchief you had remember to bring before coming, offering it to him then using the other one for yourself.

he thanks you, about to wipe his face when the striking design catches his eye.

"this is beautiful," he comments, your head snapping his direction. "did you make it yourself?"

you nod shyly.

"i picked up embroidery somewhere after sewing for a while."

the conversation continues on the walk back, san asking the questions because he just grasped the revelation he doesn't know anything about you.

aside from trying to sneak into his castle and being the friend of one of his guards, that's as much as he can recall off the top of his head although you're quite literally in a life or death situation with him.

"you said you picked up embroidery, so are you from the second district?"

san knows almost everyone who lived in the first district, having spent his entire life and becoming familiar with the surrounding neighbors.

during the occasional balls and parties, he'd get acquainted with some from the second districts. but he's never seen you before. if he did, he would probably be able to recognize you.

but he knows that a hobby and skill like embroidery was something only those in the top two could afford. it was a luxury, as much as san hates putting it like that.

you giggle at the thought and shake your head.

"i was a servant for a family from the second, but i'm originally from the fifth. i picked up embroidery because the daughter of the family was pressured into learning and i was there to help sometimes."

"oh..." is all he says.

maybe he expected you to have some noble blood or be from greatness, but the only thing close to the two were the shoes you shined and the people you served.

your entire life, nothing about you was ever great or noble.

you may have ran from the lower district for a better life, but you were never ashamed of where you came from.

it made you who you are, and if anything, you're a survivor.

"yeah..." you mumble, stopping once reaching the shack again.

he picks it up from your tone, correcting himself to make sure you don't misunderstand, "no. i didn't mean it like that. i'm just, curious about you and your background."

"oh?" you squeak, "then what do you want to know, prince."

you take a seat where he was sitting before, reaching for the food he left for you and looking up at him from where you are, wondering what kind of prince would want to know about a commoner like you.

"an iris," he refers to the pattern embroidered on the handkerchief, "was there a reason why you chose it?"

you smile softly, the question taking you back to a lane of memories and nostalgia.

"it was both of my parents' favorite flower. they always did clung onto any sort of hope there was when it came to our living conditions, and father would always used to say the iris not only symbolized that, but also courage and bravery. i don't know how true that is, but i tend to associate the flower with my parents. it was all i managed to take when me and jongho ran from the second district."

"that's sweet," the prince says, making your eyelashes bat as he plops down at the end of the makeshift bed but he never once look away from you. "and where are your parents?"

the death of your parents was once something that was difficult to talk about; a reality that you used to deny because you couldn't accept that they're no longer by your side and sharing the same struggles. because you guys did suffered a lot, but you all had each other.

and suddenly, you only had yourself.

it wasn't until jongho that you started to open up again; learn to let someone into your heart; to share the same struggles and to suffer all over again, but at least with someone by your side once more.

and it's with that lesson that you allow the prince in as well, unveiling some parts of yourself, for some reason feeling like you can entrust it to him.

"they passed away. the fishermen said the sea took them. it's been a long time and i've come to terms with it."

you don't miss the way his chest fall and a sullen look takes over his expression.

"i'm sorry to hear."

his life experiences and pain could never compare to anyone from the lower districts, he understands that all too well; how good and privileged he's had it.

but grief doesn't discriminate, and the feeling is... debilitating.

it makes you go into denial, nothing but a directionless road laying ahead, unable to help but think if you ever will recover.

but he feels a little better after talking to you, a living proof that no matter the loss or grief one goes through, there's a chance he will make it out fine in the end.

--

you're about to go off to bed when you suddenly remember what hongjoong had told you.

"prince," you call from below, the title just naturally rolling off despite the plenty of time he's made clear you can call him by his name.

"we have to change the dressing on your wound."

you get up to go search through one of the heavy bags, digging for some clean linens and vinegar the others had made sure to pack for the prince.

"hongjoong said we should change it every couple of days," you tell him, sitting at the edge of the bed while he stands up from the sleeping position. "your arm, prince." you gesture and watch as he rolls up his sleeve.

your cheeks for some reason start heating up at the sight, the blinking and nervous twitch of your eyes give it away, causing a giggle to tumble out of the prince at your flustered reaction.

"y/n," he speaks, once you've stared for long enough and still have yet to remove the old cloth. "that's what jongho and hongjoong calls you by."

"y-yes." you nod.

"have you ever tend to a wound before?"

"well, no. but i've been instructed on how to."

"i see." he smiles, and you're about to crack at the man in front of you. beautiful smile, perfect features, and some muscular arms to go along with it.

once you've contained yourself (or at least look like it), you unwrap the worn cut-out cloth and replaces it with a new one, every steps of what hongjoong had laid out followed to the very best of your ability.

"thank you, y/n," the prince says one more time, and the last smile on him for the night makes you think he just might be teasing you.

the past few days that you've spent with the prince, he's proven your expectations and predictions wrong over and over again.

almost like everything you've assumed is untrue in the best way possible. his aloof and stoic ways melting into smiles and laughters when you'd tell him stories about the kids back at the orphanage and how they thought he was a troll.

spending days and nights confined to a small space with someone you just met, the idea sounding awful but the reality actually quite nice because it's comfortable with him.

he not only speaks well, his words always the most soft and unoffending as they can be, but he also listens well.

day by day, the doubts you had--whether he would be able to salvage utopia, changes to the hope and belief that he's more than competent to pull it off.

but there's still questions bothering you; the strangeness of the entire picture in how utopia managed to fall to a state this bad in the first place if the prince is as level-headed as he presents himself.

he at least should've been talking sense into the king.

so you finally ask, during a routine morning where you and san have gotten accustomed to waking up the crack of dawn, sitting facing each other and munching away on portions of food that becomes less the more days pass by.

"san," you start, his name now more comfortable on your lips. it makes him pick his up head from the food to you.

"hongjoong said you have a plan, right? the reason they sent you here was to buy time. i-i was just wondering where does it go from here?" you try your utmost best to not sound meddlesome.

you're just worried.

because as much as you enjoy the time together, the unknown makes you uneasy. you don't want to doubt him but you also don't want everything so far to be for nothing.

it's the prince's personal affairs and not yours, but you just wish for there to be assurances; some kind of proof that speaks he knows what he's doing, because the closer you get to him, the more you fear losing him.

"i have a plan, yes," he answers, the calm demeanor on him a complete contrast to the troubled one on you. "why? are you worried?"

you breathe out, eventually nodding timidly.

"it's just that the state of the kingdom right now is really bad and it's going to take a lot to please the citizens, especially the group of rebellions. the idea of peace just seems so... unreachable."

you already sound like you're about to break down, when the prince--the one actually having to deal with it, looks the most calm and collective.

he acknowledges the concern, thinking it's fairly reasonable. actually, he's surprise everyone's been able to restrain themselves from spiraling for this long.

if he was someone else, he don't think he'll be able to put his trust into an inexperienced prince in hope of him saving the entire nation as well.

"the people of utopia isn't aware, but about a decade ago, the king of aurora, the closest neighboring kingdom to us had offered to help the nation after witnessing the terrible conditions most of the lower districts were suffering from," san reveals, "but my father... he denied the help."

you squeeze your brows in disbelief.

"what--why?"

"the king of aurora only requested for utopia's protections and services in return. as you know, we may lack in every other aspects, but armed forces is our strength. almost every men in the nation has some kind of experience when it comes to fighting or self defense. aurora is a peaceful and harmonious nation, but their men do not have the same training, combats, or skills that we do, and the king of aurora acknowledged the fact. though aurora was very unlikely to get into an altercation with another nation, the king said he would feel a lot better with utopia behind them."

"my father didn't see a point in tying ourselves down, binding an 'unnecessary' responsibility to our back. he said our ancestors' done it for hundreds of years without help and it will continue to be that way. ever since then, aurora has shunned us. they're not gonna start a war over it, but in other words: they hate our guts."

there's a pause from the prince, something shifting in his eyes before he starts again.

"i love and cherish my father. he is my father after all, and most of everything i've been taught were from him. i also understand that some of the things he did were for my mother, me, and my sister. but i wouldn't ever tell him i also think he's selfish; that i disagree with his view of the world; with his way of running things."

the pain in the prince's voice and delivery is seeping, your heart curling at the amount of hurt he must keep to himself, but if you can be the one to lessen it just a little, you will listen to his every words.

"but still, he's my father and i miss him. no matter how selfish and unreasonable he was most of the times, i promise that after everything is over, i will hold a proper burial for him. i will also repay everyone that stood by my side... i promise that."

his volume tapers near the end, his gaze melting into yours at the last statement.

"i also promised i will correct the mistakes of those who came before me, and if it takes my life, at least i'll be content that i went down with my morals. that i fought for what i believed in, even if the ancestors come back to tear me to shreds for it."

you chuckle, attempting to hold back just the smallest tear pricking the corner of your eye because all you ever did was doubt and doubt, and every single time, he always proved you wrong in the best way possible.

"so you're going to attempt to make a truce with aurora?"

he nods.

"i have to try. if we want equality for everyone, we can't do it without the help of aurora. if we do it now, without aide, the nation will fall apart no different than it is now. no amount of transports based on utopia alone will be enough. but aurora's economy; the standing of their nation is stable enough that helping utopia back on its feet will barely feel like a lift of a finger to them."

"but how would the message reach them?"

"on the day that i got attacked, i sent out one of my men, seonghwa. he knows the way around the sea best. by now, considering it's almost been a week, he should have already reached aurora, but it will take another couple of days to return. that's why i need to buy enough time for seonghwa to come back. i know the citizens won't believe it until they see the king and prince yeosang of aurora for themselves."

"and just what if the king and prince rejects the offer?" you're just trying to touch upon all possibilities.

"you see... i've thought of that as well. in fact, there's probably a bigger chance of them dismissing it considering our history and all. but if that was the case, i had already told seonghwa to head for dune next. it will take him at least another week and a half because of the distance, but if worst come to worst, that's our last hope. dune would be a lot harder to get on our side because they're not lacking in anything, their only weakness is they don't have any kind of alliance. and i was hoping after we sign a treaty with aurora, we could try for dune because they'd be more willing then, knowing we also have aurora, but that's only wishful thinking."

"you really thought everything through, huh?" you have to admit, you're impressed.

"you have no idea. every night after my father's passing, i barely got any sleep... until you finally enforced it upon me."

you giggle, meeting a soft smile on the prince's lips.

"well you need it. and seeing as intricate the plan of action is, you're going to need it even more. don't overwork your body, get plenty of rest in preparation of the big day. i believe you'll be able to do it."

there's a quick silence in the air before the prince speaks again.

"thank you... for believing in me, and keeping me sane of all things."

"my pleasure."

"but if hongjoong doesn't show within a few days, or does with the bearer of the bad news, we'd have to be prepared for relocation. they will pick up that i'm not in the castle and will try looking for me. if dune is the alternative, we're going to have to buy even more time."

"here," san says, coming from behind to stand in front of you, pulling out his own.

after observing one of his practices, he had asked how familiar you are with daggers since he recalled ripping it out of your sheath that day.

you said all understanding you have of it were from jongho, though he liked to find fault in your execution, and after a couple demonstrations, the prince seems to agree that there's a few areas you could improve on.

"a dagger is a short distance combat. some of the most basic requirements in becoming somewhat skilled at is, is trying to master the three primary positions."

you watch him get into stance.

"the first one is a downward thrust, usually used for an opponent who's not experienced in knife combat."

he acts out the method, thrusting his weapon into the air and turning to you.

"you try."

you attempt to mimic what he just did, the weapon a lot light and easier on your grip because the training from jongho did pay off in some ways.

"not bad," he comments, "just more confidence, and don't be afraid. because trust, when the enemy is coming, they won't hold back."

he tightens your grip on the dagger before stepping away.

"this certain method can also be used when an opponent is equipped with another melee weapon, or a firearm."

you nod, his encouragement and gentle teaching style as he tries reframing from straight up saying you stink in some ways or forms, is definitely preferred.

"got it! you are a much better teacher than jongho by a mile. you're actually nice to me," you joke, and the most flattered smile acrossing san's lips doesn't go unseen.

--

you wouldn't ever say it out loud, not to the prince at least.

that though leaving the place and each other's presence will be for a good cause, in some parts of you, you're already starting to dread the separation.

the parts that already grew fond of him in such a short matter of time, you fear there will never be another chance like this. together.

after everything is over, things will go back to the way it was.

he is a prince after all, and you're just... you.

"so, prince, what is the best defense weapon. figure i should ask from only the most competent person in utopia," you talk from your seat, staring up at him as he preps for another hour of practice.

he promised it'll be only an hour today.

"pfft," he blows, "don't say it like that. you might end up unimpressed."

"i mean it."

"you haven't even seen me on the battlefield."

"but i believe in you."

you hop out of your seat to him, tilting your head, "so?"

"i would say a spear. distance is honestly the best defense there is, though i do enjoy practicing with a sword more."

and that's when it happens. all the long days and nights of peace and harmony comes crashing down, from the corner of your eye catching a cloaked figure from far away standing on top one of the hills with a crossbow in their possession.

"prince!" you cry out, pushing his body away from target the hardest ever as he falls to the ground, and then a short second after, the most painful sensation of your chest being struck takes your vision and breath away.

the last thing you see and hear before fading into utter blackness is the sheer horror on the prince's face as his hands are covered with blood, and the desperate call of your name.

"y/n!"

the sound of jongho's voice makes you think you're in a dream, only until your lids are fluttering open that you see the both, scared but relieved expression of your best friend.

"oh my gosh... thank goodness you're alive."

by how tight he's squeezing your hands, you're glad to know you're not dead just yet.

"where am i?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

"back at the castle. you were out for about four days."

"four days?" you repeat, when the memories come flooding back all at once and then some. "the prince."

you attempt to sit up but the dull pain from where you've been hit prevents you, your head falling back into the pillow.

"easy," jongho soothes your body back into position, "you lost a lot of blood, and not only that, the arrow had been poisoned. luckily, the castle has shelves of antidotes for it, but we were all worried that there was just the smallest chance you weren't gonna make it."

he pauses briefly, "the prince got you here in a day and a half... he felt really bad about what happened. he was by your side the entire time and only just left yesterday night when it was announced the king and prince of aurora have arrived."

"aurora have agreed to a truce?" your tone weak, but still filled with excitement, so happy for the prince.

"yes. and hopefully the prince can get them to sign a treaty. that's the plan. it's still going to take them another two or three days to reach the first district, but the prince wanted to go welcome them formally."

"will he be okay?"

"he's under disguise. but you should get some rest and stop worrying about someone else when you're in a worse condition than them," jongho snarks.

"just making sure..."

a smirk graces your friend, a coy look on him.

"what exactly happened back there that's now making you two act like an old married couple forced to be apart? i've known you for longer than the prince and he looked like he was in more distress than i was."

"nothing that is your business," you dismiss, hoping your cheeks doesn't tint a color that gives it away, a chuckle rolling out of jongho at that.

"you used to want to tell me everything. but fair enough. rest and wait until your body is fully healed. i'll visit you every day to update."

it's hard to wrap your head around the fact you didn't wake up for four days--which, more so, should've been the highlight, but you're more intrigued that the prince was by your side up until the last minute he had to go.

you don't want to get overly giddy about it; go beyond what's appropriate and assume that he did so because of another reason, and not just because he felt bad.

but you do wish to see him soon. even if just for a bit.

--

the next few days is a routine, usually consisting of jongho welcoming you with a wholesome breakfast that's more fulfilling than breads and dried meats, then another meal at dinner.

you're in bed for most of the time, your view usually the ceiling of the castle or the empty space around you, everyone busy and occupied now that the plan is becoming a reality.

jongho tries his best to visit you every day, and hongjoong on the occasion to check your condition, but if they're not patrolling outside, they're in halls discussing the next course of actions.

you've heard that the prince have returned just last night with the royals of aurora, not a single peace or quiet outside of your room since.

you can only hope that the loud and muffled voices outside is an indication that everything is going to work out for the prince; for the kingdom of utopia.

laying around in bed all day, only watching as the sun comes up and down as the wind sways the branches outside the window, wishing you could contribute more, if anything than just wait around all day feeling absolutely useless.

the first creak of the door ever since morning is heard, jongho having told you he won't be able to bring the next meal as he'd be out with the other guards but said someone else would.

and every time, no matter how hard you try burying the inappropriate sentiment, you wish it was the prince, even if just to see him for a minute.

you haven't seen him since that day.

but still, you're grateful to have any interactions at all. even if it's not the prince.

"hey," hongjoong greets, a thin smile on as he goes to take a seat on the stool facing the bed.

"hey hongjoong," you return, finally able to sit up without feeling like your gut's about to spill out.

"you doing better?"

you nod.

"a lot better compared to before."

"good. thought i should drop by to let you know about what's going to happen the next couple of days," his voice a deeper, stern tone, "the prince and royals of aurora will be going down the districts, one by one. the prince wants to let everyone know of the upcoming changes and fix that he has in plan. me and jongho will be away, but yunho and the rest of the guards will stay in the castle with the queen, the princess, and you."

"and how long are you guys going to be gone?"

hongjoong shrugs. "really depends. it could be a week, it could be more than that. traveling down to the fifth and coming back up here is gonna be a while. but as quick as possible, i hope."

"okay..." you frown. "just, stay safe."

you care for their safety and wellbeings more than anything. all three people of whom you're most familiar with, going off and risking their lives again. you're going to feel a certain type of way about it.

but they're doing it for a good cause. for the nation. for everyone. and so you allow to put your heart at rest just a little bit.

"don't worry. aurora brought some protections as well, and if we can convince the second district now overrun by outlaws, the rest of them should be easy."

hongjoong leaves after some last words of encouragment, and him wishing you a fast healing process.

later that night, they all left for the lower districts as stated.

--

the castle grows increasingly quiet, all ruckus from before now dwindled down to almost nothing.

the guards are usually busy patrolling outside, even more now that the prince is out, and the only people that seems to actually be around are the queen and princess.

the princess is the one to bring your meals, and you feel awful about the fact when it should be the other way around.

but she is wonderful. soft-spoken, elegant in her manners, and always with a smile on her face although you know it's not easy for anyone, especially what she's going through.

she bears almost no resemblance to san, but there's still some tell-tale features, like their eyes. the same foxy and slanted characteristic trademark on both siblings that looks so mellow on the princess, but entirely menacing on the prince.

"your tea."

the soft call of her voice would get you up from bed immediately, scooting over to thank her as you two meet eyes.

once you start feeling a lot better, able to stand on your feet and support yourself fully, you stroll the garden with the princess as she reminisce about everything crossing both of your path.

"i, too, wanted to be trained in weapons and self defense, but father said it wasn't suitable for someone like me. he would always take me out to the garden instead, in hope i'd develop a liking for it just so he didn't have to deal with the persistence. and i did... i did blossomed a love for gardening."

you scowl at the revelation.

"well, that's not right."

"it's not, but it was my father's order. he was a stubborn man and didn't like to listen to anyone. i wish i could say i saw anything else for father's ending."

both the prince and princess seems to share a mutual feeling regarding the father figure. though they understand the deeply flawed king, it's hard and conflicting when it's your own father.

"brother taught me what he could, which wasn't always possible because father was always around. but san is a good person... despite the amount of pressure father put on him, i believe he would be a great king. better than father himself."

a smile cross your lips at the mention of san.

"i believe he would be a great king, too," you add. you know he will be, and you wish for nothing more than all his dreams to come true.

"brother san seems to have taken a great liking to you," the princess brings up, recalling the signs and body language of her younger brother when he was with you despite your sleeping state and lack of awareness.

an act of affection and fondness she has never seen the prince give anyone before. not even the noble daughters that would show for events.

"oh, no," you deny, shaking your head, but the way your stomach swoops at the statement is real.

"why not?" she tilts her head, a brow raising. "do you not like him?"

"no--i mean, i do. i like the prince as a friend, but anything more than that would be innappropriate, i think." your volume tapers and your eyes shy away from hers, but the soft giggle makes you snap back.

"love is a beautiful thing. you shouldn't run from it, no matter the class difference or adversities. i know my brother wouldn't."

she smiles and pat your shoulder, abruptly taking your hand and leading the way out of the garden.

"so tell me, did you know that the kingdom didn't used to be divided into districts?"

you hum from behind, "actually, i do. i read it in an old history book i found back at the orphanage."

the kingdom used to just be utopia as a whole. no divisions of anything or labels to anyone. but when the capital found out they could cheat the system and hog all resources and supplies by dividing up the nation, the district system was implemented.

and those who lived furthest from the capital suffered the worst due to change, which was why the fifth district, a once fine ground for fishermen and access to the sea, declined overtime due to the lack of available care.

"yes," she mumbles, letting go of your hand and turning around, your feet screeching with the sudden stop. "brother wishes to abolish the system, after mostly everything gets taken care of, of course. by then, none of this 'social class' would matter as much."

you know she means it from the good of her heart; soul just as kind as her brother, but it is not only the struggle of being a fifth district kid, but also the reality of being a no one as compared to a prince.

--

you get accustomed to the newer routine, waking up the crack of dawn to go help the princess prepare breakfast the best your healing body can. just the smallest, throbbing pinch still there when you sit up, but you're fine nonetheless.

the morning when the sun hasn't even shown its head yet, your body still tired and mind hazy, the opening of the door gets a silent groan out of you as you turn to the source expecting the princess to have something for you so early.

but the sight jolts you from sleep, and you know that it's him, even in the faintest lighting.

"good morning," his voice like velvet has you sitting up, your gaze trained on him the entire time he goes to take a seat at the stool.

"good morning, prince," you return, the smallest amount of joy hiding in your delivery because you really are so happy to see him again.

he went back to the princely attire coloured in white, and his hair a slicked back kind that makes him so handsome, although some strands are loose and slightly messy from the many days gone by.

"san," he corrects you, the sound of his actual name so much better when you say it.

"san," you repeat, a short giggle after that he joins along. "so you're back already. how did it go?"

your expression changing to stern that instant, if you stare at him any longer, you might just burn a hole from how serious you are.

"a lot better than i expected," he answers, a thin smile on as he scoots closer. "i really owe it to the king and prince of aurora. if they hadn't took pity in me, i don't know what else i would've done. but for some reason, they chose to believe in me, and i really am so grateful for that."

he must've been so scared but unwilling to show it. unwilling to give away the fear that the kingdom in his hand is so close to crumbling down by a mere inch, everything could fall apart just like that.

but he had to persist through the hardships and doubts; masking any weaknesses because it would scare away the people if he did. if the ruler of the kingdom itself barely has any faith in the situation.

you reach for his hand, the stronge urge to comfort him as the soft look on you melt into his.

"san, they believe in you because they can see that you're capable. and i believe as well, that you from now on, you will make utopia a better place for the people."

he thinks that you always have such a way with words; how they always make him feel so warm and at ease every time. it's never felt so easy with anyone before.

"y/n," he calls almost in a whisper, taking his hands out of your grasp to now enclose yours. "i apologize for not visiting you. but as soon as i returned and had cleared everyhing with the royals of aurora, i came to you immediately."

"no. it's okay. you have a duty as the prince of the nation, i totally understand. there's no need to apologize."

you can feel his grip on you getting tighter, his eyes a type of desperate but also affectionate.

"but still, you saved my life. you traded yours for mine. to me, you're just as important."

you're surprise by the confession, an array of butterflies dancing in the pit of your stomach and you can see the prince growing more tense, but nonetheless, he persists.

"before i go any further, can i ask you one question first?"

you nod at that. "go ahead."

"you and jongho..." he starts, only to thin out before trying again, "are you guys... dating? or, well, do you like him?"

he's nervous and if he wasn't holding you, he would probably start fidgeting to hide the fact.

"me and jongho?" you quirk an eyebrow, failing to hold back the snicker from the thought while the prince just stares dumbfoundedly.

"i love jongho, but he's more like family than anything. we've been through a lot together but i can't see him in that light."

you've given similar answers out a couple times, especially to the other servants who thought you both had a crush on each other.

the prince's chest drop in relief and you can't hide the amusement you get from it.

"what? you thought me and jongho had something?" you can't stop giggling.

"well, i just had to make sure," he says, a hint of embarrassed and shy that is incredibly cute.

he wouldn't tell you that the one time he actually decided to come in the midst of everything, jongho was already by your side and if you didn't look so happy, he wouldn't have went back because he could tell jongho is someone special to you.

"so?" you await what he has to say, the eagerness only making him more nervous.

the grip on you loosening up to a more softer but more intimate one, one of his thumb running over your hand before he speaks.

"i know this might be too sudden and we haven't known each other for long, but, if your heart isn't taken by anyone, i'd like to ask for a vow."

you just stare ahead and wait for him to finish the sentence, your heart beating exceptionally loud.

"i understand it's a bit abrupt, but... i-i've never felt this way with anybody else. there's something special when i'm you, and i'd like to ask for a vow; a promise that we'll reserve our hearts for each other."

he's so scared, willing to take the chance at first because he will regret it if he doesn't. but now, he's afraid he might've ruined whatever he had with you in the first place, retracting immediately when there's only silence from you.

"but it's not an obligation. you don't have to. i'm just--"

"--i would love to," you cut, watching the panic on his face dissipate that instant.

"really?"

"yes. i would love to," you assure once again, the thinnest smile crossing your lips that soon turns bigger when he returns one.

he's absolutely over the moon to know the feeling is mutual; that what he felt and got from the time together wasn't just because you were compelled to treat him equal to his title.

that something more came out of it.

"but..." you mumble, the smile fading when reality sets in again. "is this going to be okay? you're a prince, and i'm just... me."

"of course it's going to be okay. i don't care who or what you are," he comforts, delivery incredibly passionate, you can't fight it. "but more importantly, before you give me your words once and for all, i need to know if you'll be okay with the conditions first. you can be honest. i won't be upset because i would never try to hold you back regarding anything."

"i'm listening," you acknowledge.

"the citizens of utopia have decided to give me a chance. that chance is not only to salvage the nation, but to also prove to them that i'm capable of leading and won't repeat the same mistakes those who came before we did. i don't know how long it's going to take; specifically how many years. but i will crack down on any remaining harmful outlaw members, i will be traveling in and out of the kingdom a lot, and i will be working on making this nation a better place for everyone. that is something i promised to do, and i will do just that."

he takes a deep breath and start again, eyes on yours. "so if you don't want to wait, i won't hold it against you. if there's things or someone better out there waiting for you, you don't have to accept my proposal. but just if you do... if you're willing to wait for me, once the nation is in a stable state and i don't have to stress too much about being all over the place, i promise then, that i will ask for your hand in marriage."

the bold declaration does take you by surprise, hard to grasp that the prince of all people would want to marry you.

"i know it's a lot to take in," he says, "but you don't have to give me an answer now. whenever you're ready."

you shake your head.

"no--i mean, i would love to. no matter how long i have to wait, i think it'll be worth it. after all, the nation is your priority and the people needs you."

he's taken aback by how fast you made up your mind, but overjoy that you want it just as much as he does. he can't be any happier.

"you're sure you want to do this?" he asks again just to be sure, but crossing his fingers you don't just so happen to change your mind.

you nod earnestly.

"i'm sure. besides, i doubt any guy would ever be interested in me let alone want to get married."

he chuckles, a sound you can to listen all day.

"even if they are, they can't get you now. so i don't want to see any of them trying to woo you or something. and you can't give in because you already gave me your words."

it's your turn to laugh, the jealousy endearing on him.

"well how would i know you'll keep your words, too? what if i wait and wait until i'm a grandma with grey hair only for you to take it back? marry someone else instead and say you don't want me anymore?" you tease.

"tskk," he sneer, "that won't happen, because i would never promise anything i knew i couldn't do. so you don't have to worry."

a reassuring smile spreads across his lips as so does yours, seconds passing by when the silence consumes the room and the both of you just stare at each other, completely smitten.

you notice the slightly fallen strands covering his eyes, going to move it with your finger but your hand stopping at his cheek after, a staring contest ensuing before something comes over you, leaning over to deliver a kiss to his other cheek.

when you pull back, the shy and flustered reaction of the prince brings another giggle out from you.

"i believe you, then. go and show everyone that they made the right choice in giving you a chance. go and make the nation a better place for the citizens. no matter how long, when you come back, i'll be right here... for you."

age 20:

you're twenty years old when the district system is abolished, and when you're nearing twenty-one, it will have been a year since you've spoken to the prince, and will be a few months that you've last seen jongho.

he had been given an opportunity to stay at the castle as one of the prince's permanent companions and took it.

as for you, you moved back to what used to be the fifth district, your heart and soul still full of regard for the place no matter how far you run because every last memory of your parents are rooted here.

you didn't want and couldn't ask for anything in return for the loyalty to the royal family during their toughest time, only taking the coins they had kindly insisted on giving and proceeded to find somewhere to settle. make a life for yourself.

the first few months after declaration of adjustments were as tough for anyone else as it was for you. no matter how positive of an effect, changes are always difficult.

the nobles having to reclaim their homes again after migrating from fear of the outlaws; the party finally retreating, and the former having to piece everything back together with the thought in mind that everything won't be the same, but it will be fair.

the lower districts benefitting the most from the changes but time is their biggest adversary, because though good things are coming, they're not going to come in an instant. having to wait days, months, years, for the full glory to show can be defeating.

but nevertheless, it's coming, and tomorrow will be better than yesterday and so forth. a year later and you can already notice the difference, especially the sea that once gave up on the nation ready to ripple once more.

where you're currently at, you couldn't have done it without the help of those around you. hongjoong who gave you full rights to his hideout in the fifth district because he won't have the use for it anymore, having also been promoted to work alongside the prince.

and with the coins the royal family gave you, you put it into materials to hone the skill you're best at, now finally making a living off sewing and embroidery.

over the year, you've renovated the small shack to your liking with the knowledge you carried from your father, building something for yourself you can call home.

you can still recall that feeling; the first sinking realization of being alone and the taste of freedom. you no longer belonged to somebody or owed anything to anyone. no longer the poor kid just waiting for a better life.

you were your own person, and it feels amazing to be free, though you think it would be even better if he was there.

the thought of him crossing your mind every couple of days, wishing for nothing but only the best for him, hopeful that one day, he will return to fulfill the promise.

"those are some fine handkerchiefs you have there," a young man's voice stops you, spinning around to greet him with a smile.

"you crafted them yourself?" he asks, his tone a type of mischievious that you don't even read into.

"yes," you simply reply, always putting on your best behavior when there's a possible customer. "would you like to take a look at them for yourself?"

"i'd love to."

you untangle the basket from your arm and start going through the many fabrics of your creation.

"wow. not only is the creator herself beautiful, but so are the creations. i've never seen these kind of patterns before," he comments, a smirk on that is both amused and flirty, you can't help the way your cheeks immediately reddens.

the man only seems to find the sight even more endearing as a snicker bubbles out of him while you're still just standing there because you've never met someone so shameless before.

you're about to say something when an arm is thrown around your shoulders instead, turning to the source and your body an immediate mix of relieved, joy, and a skipping heartbeat.

"san..." you say by natural instinct, his unreadable expression meeting yours before moving to the young man in front.

"i'm sorry, i told her to not go wandering by herself but she wouldn't listen. let's go back, honey."

he snatches the basket out of your hold with his other hand and hauls you back the other way.

"i've only been gone for a year and you're already flirting with another man?" he accuses once you're able to flee from his clutch, his steps following right behind you as a pout overtakes his face.

"i wasn't flirting. i was trying to make money," you weakly defend, focus on the path back to your place that you believe the word 'cottage' would be more fitting for.

"you're way too beautiful and talented to be out there spending your days talking to young men."

"pfft," you blow, "and you're way too handsome and princely to be traveling everywhere and going to other kingdoms in the presence of other noble and royal daughters."

"and i'd still choose you, baby."

your heels dig the dirt flooring, snapping around from the pet name, a laughter at the verge of coming out.

san can see the amusement on your face, only smirking in response.

"what? i know you like being called that."

this time, you really do laugh and he follows right after, absolutely in love with everything about you. whether that's snarking back or laughing at him.

"whatever you say, prince," you poke more fun at him before dragging him by the wrist into your place.

"cute what you've done," he pass a comment while you put the basket away.

"yes. and i have just about everything i need."

it's just a little bigger than the hideout back at what used to be the third district, but it has the same convenience in that it's close to the river, cutting out trips to the bathhouse which saves a lot of time.

he nods, the dimpled smile never leaving his face.

"so... what brings you here?" you eventually ask, sitting next to him on your bed, the atmosphere shifting because despite enjoying the banter and mischief of it all, you miss him and haven't seen him in over a year.

"we just returned and arrived at the port this morning, so i wanted to come visit and see how you're doing. you know, to make sure no one was trying to sweep you off by your feet."

you playfully land a slap to his shoulder, snickering.

"you're ridiculous. all year long and my love life is so dry, but the one day someone acknowledges me, you just have to come back," you reply with sarcasm.

"i'm sorry to ruin that for you, but you can't take it back. you promised to marry me, and i will make sure every guy in the kingdom knows that."

you remember the first time meeting san, his state of grief making him almost an entirely different person. quiet, stoic, and always in distress, it's the most wonderful surprise that he's actually a child at heart.

able to let loose once in a while and just have fun.

"no need to. you won't have any competitions at all."

he chuckles quietly at that and closes any remaining distance between you two.

"you speak too lowly of yourself when you're the most beautiful girl i've ever seen."

you bat your eyelashes, shying away from his gaze. you just blush way too easy.

he chuckles at the sight and moves the subject along, "but i also came because i have good news. the king and prince mingi of dune have agreed to a treaty."

"really? t-that's great!" you stumble your wording, beyond happy for him because this was everything he wanted and planned for.

"yeah. it wasn't easy but the fact we have aurora did most of the convincing. dune was... interesting to say the least," he says, briefly recalling the month he spent at the kingdom.

"you did it, though" you smile. "it's only going to get better from now on."

"i hope so. but it seems the real challenge just began. this place is going to need a lot of work."

"that, it is. but for now, you just need to relax. rest a little and eat if you already haven't. i can make you some soup, would you like that?"

he nods.

"i would love that."

he loves how comfortale and easy it is with you. when the weight on his shoulders gets too heavy, he can always rely on you to make it better, even if just for a bit.

--

"so where do i sleep?" he asks, walking back in after washing himself by the river with the towel you gave him.

the day had been nothing short of a dream, eating and cleaning together and just small exchanges that multiplies the butterflies in your stomach.

you wish everyday was like this.

"the floor," you joke, the response making him scowl.

"i'm carrying the nation on my back and you're gonna make me sleep on the floor?" he throws the towel over his shoulder, his wet strands of hair swaying along with his movements.

"that bed looks big enough for the two of us." he points with his chin. "besides, we're gonna get married anyways."

you roll your eyes, snatching the towel from him as you go to ruffle his wet hair with it, his shout of protests underneath coming out muffled.

"fine." you land the fabric back around his neck, crawling into bed and scooting to the wall to make space.

he lays down and faces you, your gaze burning into each other's when he cranks out a smile.

"i'll be leaving in the morning and you might not see me again for a while after. don't you think you should give me something to remember you by?"

your brows furrow, your mind jumping to conclusion considering the position you guys are in and the tone in which he said it.

"i'm not gonna have sex with you," you spit, prompting the loudest laughter ever from him, followed by confusion from you.

"no, of course not. i was talking about another of your handkerchiefs."

"oh..." you murmur, feeling embarrassed.

"not until we get married at least. then, we can do it," he states with confidence, the thought of taking you to bed and inserting control another way is tempting, and he can't wait for the day.

you smack his chest lightly, as flustered as you are, you can't help the giggle that slips out.

a few seconds of silence pass by before he starts moving closer, his breath ghosting your skin and finger going to caress your cheek.

"i really do want to kiss you right now, though," he confess, "if that's okay with you."

you nod as much as your pillowed head allows you to.

"that's okay with me."

you close your eyes shut, trying to keep from flinching as you await his kiss, moments later only for his lips to crash against yours, his hand moving to your jaw and his body pressing forward as the kiss deepens.

you kiss him like it's the last kiss between you and him; like your life depends on it, the bed creaking under as he takes it upon himself to connect your bodies.

he pulls back much to your disappointment, both of your chests heaving and trying to catch your breath, his forehead bumped with yours and tip of his nose brushing your own.

"good enough," he speaks, his breath still not yet returned, "any more than this and i might not be able to contain myself."

you giggle, placing a soft peck on his cheek, flashing one last smile.

"goodnight, prince."

--

"have a safe trip, and take care of yourself," you bless, blue in your heart as san makes his way back to you after speaking to the coachman.

all the laughters and butterflies of yesterday won't be experienced again until who knows how long. he will be away after this, and you will miss him dearly.

you wish he could stay but you know he can't. he has something bigger and better to worry about.

he stops before you, melancholy in his eyes as well. he doesn't want to leave you but he has to. and as much as he wants to take you along, he can't let you bear the same responsibilities and weight.

he wants for you to be there, when he already made everything better.

"you take care of yourself, too." his hands naturally finding itself cupping your cheeks. "don't overwork yourself."

"i won't."

you place your own hands over his, desperate to salvage his touch for one last time.

"when can i expect to see you again?" you ask.

"i don't have a definite answer, but i'll be back. i promise."

you two share one last kiss before you watch him go off, blue still in your heart, but you know that someday, he'll come back, and it will be to stay.

age 23:

you're twenty-three years old when there's a knock at the door one suspicious morning.

living in the middle of nowhere, and even over the years, you're only able to count on one hand the range of selection there is when it comes to who it could be.

"hongjoong?" you squint, the man you haven't seen in forever looking slightly more buffed; mature, his hair styled and attire new and shiny.

"great seeing you again," he greets, still on horseback and glancing down at you.

"would you like to come inside? for some tea or a drink?" you ask, figuring it's only proper etiquette you do.

"i'm good. i only came to deliver something."

you continue squinting, one hand shielding your eyes from the early sun, reaching out when hongjoong hands you a letter and unfolding it.

"an invitation from the prince?" you read, incredulity as you shoot up to look at him.

"yes. the prince is finally accepting his accession to king and the coronation will be held a week from now. that is all i have for today. i have to head back soon."

you have so many more questions but hongjoong already turns his back before you can ask them, settling for staring at the ink in awe when the sound of his voice picks your head up again.

"i hope to see you there. the prince will be expecting you."

--

you leave for the capital the following day, packing only essentials and enough coins, taking along pearl, the white horse you had purchased a year back for traveling purposes.

there's been a lot changes in the four years since san took the reign, all of them for the better, of course.

some of the homes have been revamped, some new ones added, and everywhere you passed, there are greens and beauty in each sceneries.

the citizens look happier, kids a lot less miserable and even those in the orphanages are coming around to the new implements along with those in progress to solve overcrowding.

members of the outlaws have dwindled over time and quieted.

for the first time in hundreds of years, utopia is able to live up to its name in some form; a place of ideal perfection.

so you couldn't fret too much; be upset that in the three years that have passed, san's only visited you once. because if it wasn't for him, the nation wouldn't have been able to achieve the current state.

you travel to the capital with hope, expectation, and excitement at the fact you will be seeing him again; a strong belief that everything will feel just the same as last time.

you stop at inns to rest when the nights fall and start again at dawn, reaching the destination in five days total, the day before san's coronation.

there isn't any difference to the castle, not even a bit. a touch of nostalgia hitting you when thinking back to the event four years ago.

entrance is easy to get through, showing both of the guards who seems to recognize you, the letter.

tying your horse to the nearest tree, you proceed to the door with a pounding heart, banging on it twice before the castle door creaks from the other side, absolutely no idea who the person could be.

"y/n!"

your eyes widen at the sight, that nervousness replaced by delight.

"jongho!"

before he can get another word out, you're already in his arms, the warmth of your best friend something you missed greatly in the full year you haven't seen him.

you can him hear giggling in your hair, pulling away to that goofy smile of his as one settles on your lips as well.

"you came," he simply says.

"of course i did."

jongho takes you inside, your nosy eyes wandering the interior that's also the same as before but still dazzling with all its history, cracks in some of the wall, and antiques.

you greet the queen and the princess who only gets more beautiful by the years, them welcoming you with warm smiles and you can tell immediately the new changes other than their appearances.

they sound happier; no other burdens or weight pulling them down, carrying it around like a haunting that won't go away.

you walk around the courtyard with jongho after, finally a time and place to catch up. all those time of being with each other, you didn't think you could survive if he wasn't by your side, but to have gone four long years only seeing him once in a blue moon, you'd say that's some character development.

"how are things here for you?" you ask him, walking alongside shoulder to shoulder.

"amazing," he answers almost instantly, "it's crazy. i never thought i'd get the chance to work in the capital, but the royal family's castle? with the prince? it's everything i've ever wanted."

you can't stop smiling, his tone telling of just how much he means what he just said.

"that's great. i'm happy for you. you did always say you wanted all those training to go into something."

he nods.

"and you? how are things down there?"

"much better. it's coming together. the people's the most tame i've ever seen them."

jongho hums in acknowledgement.

"i heard you're going to become queen," he suddenly brings up, and you almost choke in return.

"and who the hell said that?"

"--i did."

the familiar voice that isn't jongho makes the both of you turn around, your stomach dropping and heart palpitating because you know all too well who it belongs to.

you can only stare breathless as he takes a step closer, your throat dry.

he's just as mesmerizing as you remember but like hongjoong, time have passed and he has gotten more bulky, manly, and handsome if that's even possible.

"i'm glad to see you can come," he mumbles, a charming smile on that render your knees weak.

jongho clears his throat, attempting to hide a smirk as he goes to excuse himself politely and walks back inside, leaving you stranded in the presence of san.

everything still feels the same with him.

"yeah. i got the letter," you reply, glancing around the empty area, "though it seems i might have gotten a tad excited."

he snickers, and oh... how you have missed the sound.

"you're the only one i gave a personal invitation to," he unveils.

"oh." your eyes swell, only to break the tension after. "then i guess i'm special."

"you are," he assures, closing the distance and taking one of your hand. "i have promised you that once utopia is stable enough, i will ask for your hand in marriage."

you watch as he goes to pull something out of the pocket of his suit, one of his knees pointed to the ground, his entire body falling with it.

"and now that i've finally reached that goal... y/n, will you marry me?"

it takes a moment for you to process everything, overwhelmed with joy and happiness before you can properly nod.

"yes. of course."

and he will marry you, after the rise to king and acceptance of his title as the ruler of utopia, keeping the promise just as he did to every others.

permanent taglist: @moonchele

a/n: not me talking shit abt wanting broken era to be over only to go & write a 19k oneshot. but i loved writing this & had a lot of fun bc it was v different from what i'd usually write

[blackgirlsuperherorants]

IWTV rant incoming, spoilers for both seasons, be forewarned!

I've been seeing far too much Louis hate online recently, and while I'm of the opinion that none of these vamps are completely innocent by nature, I can't help but notice the disproportionate hate on my boy.

Honestly, it feels a little like fandom racism. And I think AMC IWTV fans have convinced themselves that they're beyond such things because of Jacob and Assad, but idk, everyone turning on the Black one at once seems... yucky?

First, I've seen a lot of "Louis is an abuser". Which... is a wild take on a show where most of the main characters hurt everyone around them?

I think some of it is coming from those who saw the episode in season 2 in which it is revealed that the big fight that Louis and Lestat had in S1 was more even than just Lestat beating up Louis, but y'all... we're not supposed to take S1 as a complete fabrication. A lot of y'all keep saying "oh, we haven't met the real Lestat." Sure, not in person and not from his POV until that ending, but we're not supposed to take it as Louis just lying outright. In the series, different from the books, OUR Louis calls Daniel back in 2022 to give him a more accurate version of the story. In the 1970s, he was just trash-talking Lestat. In 2022, he is remembering Lestat fondly while also remembering all the pain Lestat caused him. He only learns at the end of the season that Armand manipulated some of his memories. And only SOME. We're not supposed to think Armand made Louis misremember everything he and Lestat ever did together. So, we can take S1 as a version of the truth, even if it has some holes or misremembered parts... and in S1, Lestat is a scary guy. When Louis fought him, he was fighting a scary monster. You can't talk about it like he was a human man fighting his human partner because he got a little angry. He was a vampire fighting an even stronger vampire who, as far as Louis knew, was capable of awful things. And Lestat stalked Louis when he was still a human, fed on him without consent, killed the priests Louis turned to in fear... none of that was healthy courtship of a lover. To then turn around and call LOUIS the abuser? That's nuts.

And then there's Armand.

Armand is capable of great physical violence without even lifting a finger. You cannot look at me in the face and tell me that Louis slamming him into a wall was *abuse* after finding out that Armand mindfucked him for 70 years. After y'all saw what Armand did to Daniel. After Armand plotted Louis' death while manipulating Louis into thinking he was loved.

"Louis is an abuser" is a wild take after watching both of those seasons. Louis isn't an innocent princess, either, but compared to the two older vampires, he is the main victim of the story. Both Lestat and Armand emotionally abused him, manipulated him, and physically hurt him, and after all of it, he just ends up alone.

Now, believe me, I love Armand and Lestat. I think they're wonderfully awful people, and so much fun to watch, so fun to love, so fun to hate. But I think so many people left season 2 on their sides completely, just because Louis stood up for himself AND admitted that he was wrong about a lot of what he thought he remembered. And in all honesty, I think a lot of y'all like Sam and Assad because they're hot and... Jacob, while hot, is still Black. With Assad, you can give yourselves the benefit of the doubt because he's still a person of color, but he's a non-black person of color...

And Black people are not afforded softness or innocence, the way non-black people are. So, Louis doing something that's not good makes him not good, even if it's in the context of being a vampire. But Lestat and Armand get "brat prince" and "baby girl" even when they're cruel.

And also, it's not great to put the "abuser" label on someone standing up to their abuser. I dunno. Feels kinda yucky, in that sense, too.

Personally, I try to keep these people's vampire incarnations out of human morality, because being a vampire is inherently immoral because you need to kill to stay alive. So, like, when they physically fight, I can excuse it because they know they can't actually do much harm for the most part, because vampires heal fast and can't be easily hurt. But when... idk, you drop your fledgling from an extreme height, or cut someone's ankles and have them buried in rocks and locked away in a mausoleum... that's actually trying to hurt them (as Lestat admitted.)

And Louis' attempt to kill Lestat was because he and Claudia feared him. None of them disagree with that fact.

Anyway, have the same grace for the Black man that you do for your brat prince. Idk why y'all are trying to make Louis the bad guy. He never even asked to be a vampire. Lestat just wanted to keep him.