#idk man i’ve never experienced something as close as this and it’s so heavy

[jamminvroomvroom]

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[imagineyouandharry]

Gypsophila (H.S)

Summary: Prince Harry has been under great pressure to find a wife, and he finds his Queen in a way far more unconventional than he could’ve imagined. 

Words: 5,730

Warnings: It’s a bit strange I guess? Idk lol.

A/N: Someone requested a Prince!Harry au forever ago, and then I didn’t really have an opportunity to write for a while, and then this idea sprung up on me and I’ve been lost in this little au for the past few days. It’s like a little twisted fairytale, taking inspiration from Snow White and Sleeping Beauty mostly. Part two is already a work in progress. If people are interested I’ll even put out a little sort of world building lore post with a map of the kingdom etc (I’ve been in DEEP). This part is a bit choppy and barely edited because I was just so eager to write it and get something out, but I would really appreciate any constructive criticism and editing notes! TYSM!! Long story short, enjoy!!!

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Harry Edward Styles did not believe in true love, in fact, he thought it was the most ridiculous idea ever. Harry’s certain he’s laid eyes upon every eligible young lady, from his kingdom and the ones surrounding, and he hadn’t felt a single thing when looking at any of them. He prayed every night that he would find his love the next day, and finally be able to put his parents out of their misery and ascend to the throne. At the age of 27, Harry’s the oldest person in his family to not be married, no one every waited this long in the royal family. He would’ve had an arranged marriage at 21, though when his parents suggested that he ran away on a sailing ship for two months. One thing was clear to him: though he may not have experienced love yet, he wasn’t going to ruin his chances at true by being forced into a loveless marriage. It wasn’t only Harry’s parents, but the entire kingdom that woke each day hoping to hear that their Prince had found his Queen. They referred to Harry as the Good Prince, his subjects adored him, and lived for his acts of charity and selflessness, and they only hoped he would find a Queen that would treat them the same.

Harry’s outlook on love changed however, after his most recent hunting trip. Sundays are for family and hunting, that’s what Harry was always told. No day was for Harry, he’d come to learn that. Living under a microscope meant for very little alone time, and almost no guilt-free alone time. He and his hunting party rode across the fields and out to the dense forest surrounding the kingdom, and over the two hour journey Harry found himself agitated with the topics of conversation going on around him. He wanted a break, tired of everyone only ever speaking about royal duties or politics. Harry had discovered a fresh water lake if he went off the trail, and when he realised they were edging closer to his favourite place he decided to excuse himself with the excuse of needing to fill his canteen.

The natural spring was a hidden treasure indeed. Harry’s entire kingdom was cut off from the rest of the world due to the thick forestland surrounding it. There was only one trail in, and one trail out, and even then only experienced riders were able to make the journey. The end of the trail, in the deep of the forest, was also often lined with thieves and outcasts making it not the safest journey. This spring wasn’t necessarily hard to find, however thick trees that lined the main trail hid the spring, the gorgeous wild flowers, and clearing of soft grass either side. Harry tied his horse to his usual tree, softly parting the bushes careful to not cause any permanent damage, and stepped his way through. His kingdom was full of hidden treasures like this, tucked away in places only to be found by those adventurous enough.

The sound of the running water was most prominent, however the closer he walked to the spring, the more he could hear a faint, delicate singing voice. Harry couldn’t recognise the song, but it was one he’d never forget now. It felt as though his heart dropped in his stomach, and he had to lightly scratch his arm on a branch to double check he hasn’t died and was hearing an angel of heaven sing to him. He walked closer, with quiet footsteps so not to disturb the singing. He knelt down to the edge of the spring and began to fill his canteen, looking around his eyes eventually focused on the source of his siren, standing in the clearing over the other side of the spring as she picked a bouquet of dainty flowers. Lavender, daisies, bellflowers, poppies. Her body was dressed in sage green, the simple dress showed she definitely was not from a wealthy family, but it was simple and beautiful in its own way. Perhaps she sewed it herself, it did look as if it were made for her. He could see her hair shine from here, and the features of her side profile were striking him even from a distance. She didn’t look real. The strange girl across the spring looked ethereal, like her beauty was too surreal for this planet. Had he hit his head? Was he seeing a forest fairy? He hadn’t even realised the staggering increase in his heart rate as he watched the girl, and listened.

He lost track of how long he had been watching her for, snapped out of his daydream when he heard a “Your Royal Highness! We must be getting on!” Harry heard shouting at him from a distance, most likely back where he had tied his horse. The girl had heard the faint noise and her eyes shot in Harry’s direction. His cheeks flushed with heat as their eyes met only for a brief second, before she ran away. The eye contact brought a slight curve to his lips, although she was leaving, at least he got another good look at her.

“Wait!” He called as he stood up, his hand and canteen dripping wet. His eyes softened as she simply left, looking back briefly in her stride, but he’d blown it. “God fucking damn it.” He cursed under his breath as he began to trudge back to his horse, his feet weighing heavy on the ground.

That was the most he’d ever felt, looking at the stranger across the lake singing as if it were for him, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d just lost his future Queen. Half of him wanted to wade through the water and run after her, but Harry wasn’t a often disobedient Prince, when one of his parents or advisors told him to jump, his usual response would be “how high?” It’s ironic how for someone who’s whole life depends on finding his future Queen is given so little time to actually explore a social life, or love life himself. He was always set up with suitors who his parents found best. In the rare times he’s able to sneak away he’d gotten around, and most definitely wasn’t a virgin, but he’d never found a girl who had made him feel the way he wanted to feel about his future queen. He only wanted to please his family, and his realm, but this was the one thing where he refused to compromise.

Y/N was as far away from a future queen as it could come, or at least that’s what her step-mother wanted everyone to think. The entire town hoped to marry their daughters off to the elusive Good Prince Harry, however her step-mother only wanted her biological daughters to have that chance. When Y/N’s father passed away her step-mother sent her out to live as a recluse in a tiny cottage in the woods, she had always feared that her beauty would distract future husbands away from her actual daughters, and didn’t want to ruin their chance of being married. Each Sunday she drops Y/N off the supplies she needs, but that was the only human contact she was given. It wasn’t too bad, she managed to keep herself busy with sewing, baking, or whatever other art or craft she could think of and had the materials for. It was lonely though, and she was ultimately alone.

Well, if you don’t count forest fairies. Y/N hated being outcast into the forest, and spent most of her early months in the cottage crying to whatever wild animal she could find that day that would stick around long enough. Eventually, these wild animals started bringing their fairy friends along with them. They would spend their days with Y/N tending to fruit and vegetable gardens, watering plants, having picnics, and making daisy chains. Her life was simple, and although not one she asked, it was one she was growing fond of. Male company was something she could only imagine and long for, or read about in story books. There were dozens of fairies living in the forest, but she’d become particularly close to a group of some of the female fairies.

Each Sunday before her step mother visits, Y/N will pick her step mother a bouquet of flowers in attempt to win her over, in hopes maybe one day her sweetness will earn her way back into town. Y/N had total obliviousness towards her step mother’s plan, and towards what was going on in the city. This year, any woman over the age of 21 was to present herself to the Prince. Y/N’s 21st birthday fell on the day she was scheduled to be presented to the Prince. The letter had been delivered shortly before she was sent away to the forest, Y/N never laid her eyes upon it though. The letter outlined the royal guard would be coming to collect anyone who failed to present themselves on the day, and to Y/N’s step mother that meant the only option was to make it so Y/N never turned 21, or made it to her birthday for that matter.

Seeing the Prince most definitely did spook Y/N during that day in the field, if her step mother ever found out she’d had contact with a male there was no chance she’d ever be allowed to move back home. She did all she could think to do. She ran. She ran so fast that the petals of the flowers she had picked were ruined in her haste, quickly shutting herself inside the cottage to gather herself before her routine afternoon visit from her step mother. Sure she knew of men to be dangerous and terrible, but she feared her step-mother’s wrath more than anything any man could put her through.

Like any other Sunday, she scrubbed the house and dressed herself in whatever new garment she had stitched herself this week. The fairies had been busy this week and she’d had a great deal of time to herself, embroidering colourful flowers into the soft white linen of the new dress she had made. Her step-mother would bring her fabric and thread to sew dresses for her step sisters. It was something to be proud of, but most likely would be over looked. Little was said upon her step-mother’s arrival, but her character seemed off. Her step-mother’s eyes darted around, checking windows as she insisted on making the two of them tea. Y/N sat down at the small dining table, recounting tales of her week, ensuring to leave out anything about fairies or a boy. She watched a small bunny outside the window, forgetting to speak as awe overwhelmed her whilst she watched its tiny nose twitch. Her daydream came to an end when the sound of the ceramic mug hit the hard wood of the coffee table. “Drink while it’s warm, my love.” Her step-mother told her, sitting down in the seat at the head of the table beside Y/N. It wasn’t long after that that Y/N hit the floor, and her step-mother was shrouding herself in a hooded coat and sneaking out of the tiny cabin.

Elsie, a fairy most close to Y/N, who specialises in healing, came to the conclusion that she was only out for about six hours before the fairies found her. They did all they could over the following weeks to bring her back to life, trying as many possible rituals, potions, and spells to give life to her body once more. Nothing was of use though, and instead they decided to preserve her in a glass case in the clearing amongst the wildflowers. She had professed to them that the clearing by the spring had been her favourite place, so they saw this fit. Preserving her in the glass case was simply because the idea of her beauty decaying away made any of the fairies shriek. Fairies never communicated with humans, however Y/N was different. Elsie had always theorised that Y/N had magic in her blood. Amongst the many spells and rituals they tried to bring Y/N back, they threw in a spell that would hopefully bring her back with true love’s kiss. It was like a safety net, or a ‘what if?’ But they eventually tired and wore out, preserving her was well enough for now. They kept her dressed in the new dress she had crafted for herself, it was so beautiful after all. They had placed tiny baby’s breath flowers throughout her hair, and made sure everything was perfect. They even went as far to adorn her in delicate gold jewellery, with beautiful crystals of all colours. Her body rested upon a large rectangular slab of rose quartz.

****

Harry was dreading sitting in the throne room, while all the eligible females from the town were presented to him like livestock. It made him sick, and left a terrible taste in his mouth. All he could think of was the girl from the clearing. Is she a sign? Is he his ticket out of here? Was seeing her fate? Questions like that simmered over his mind and kept him awake at night, he had been sleeping little and finding it hard to focus on his duties. His best friend Niall was he closest confidant, the only one he had told about the beautiful girl in the clearing that day. Niall cared more for Harry than anyone, really. He didn’t just care about his fame or power or wealth, Harry was his best friend and he hated seeing his best mate so down about his love life and the pressure to marry a woman he doesn’t love. He made it his mission to find the woman, and his detective work lead him down a path he didn’t expect at all. First he went to the clearing where Harry filled his water in the spring, that was where he first noticed something over the other side of the spring that he couldn’t quite make out. He followed the spring and found an area narrow enough to cross, making his way to the structure he’d seen earlier. He didn’t know what to make of this discover, a dead girl in a glass coffin. ‘Forever at rest, only to be woken by true love’s kiss’ read an inscription on a gold plaque. He really didn’t know what to make of this. He didn’t know what to tell Harry.

Sweat lingered Niall’s brow as he made his way back to the castle to find Harry, to tell him of his discovery. “Look… I just need you to come with me and tell me what you think when we’re there.” Niall tells him, his voice somewhat breathless. Niall himself was still in disbelief, shock, his eyes wide as he shook his head. “I just- I don’t know what to tell you. You need to see it for yourself.” He adds.

Harry nods. “I’ll come immediately.” Harry tells him, his trust for Niall outweighing anything else going on in his head. Together they rode to the forest, crossed the narrow part of the spring, and towards where Niall had discovered Y/N.

“Is this the girl you were talking about?” Niall asks, however when he looks from the girl to Harry, he knows the answer. Harry couldn’t help but fall to his knees, pressing his palms against the glass as he looked inside. He noticed how long her eyelashes looked, and the freckles on her nose. His nose was almost touching the glass as he leant here on his knees at the side of her, taking her in up close.

“What happened to you?” He whispers, his eyebrows knitting together. Niall gives him a moment before he decides to mention the plaque at the foot of the structure.

“It uh, says something weird about being awoken by true love’s kiss. I don’t know if it’s true, and it’s revolting to think you would kiss a dead body for nothing, but someone has put her here. Someone made this. My grandmother in her old age would mutter stories about forest fairies and their magic… It just makes you wonder, you know?” He ponders, his eyes wandering away. It felt silly to bring up magic, it was something very commonly dismissed.

“Help me get this off.” Harry said as he brought himself from the ground, the soft grass had left green stains on his tan riding pants. He pushed the sleeves of his white linen button down up past his elbows, and the two men carefully lift the heavy glass case up off of the rose quartz Y/N had been resting on. It wasn’t easy, and the glass at the bottom dug into Harry’s fingers before they set the glass piece of the structure down on to the grass. “Alright. Here we go.” Harry said, in attempt to psych himself up for kissing a dead girl. She didn’t look dead though, just sleeping, you could only tell she was dead due to the missing rising and fall in her chest with her breath. “I might start walking back to the horses, give you some privacy.” Niall said, giving him a slight smile. He also didn’t really want to witness someone kiss a dead person, if she didn’t end up waking up.

“Good luck. Take your time.” He adds, part of him had no doubt it was going to work though. The stories his grandmother would tell him of the forest fairies were something he’d always held on to, those stories were amongst his most treasured memories. He’d always had some hope.

Harry waited until he could no longer hear Niall’s footsteps before he leant down close to Y/N, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. He took a moment, if this never worked it was going to be the last time he’d ever see her. He couldn’t fathom coming back to this spot if this didn’t work. His heart began to ache at the thought, it made his chest feel tight, and gave him the urge to rub at the spot.

“I really hope you’re who I think you are.” He whispers as he looks down at her. “This might seem like absolute madness. I don’t even know your name, but if you wake up for me, I swear to you I will be yours forever.” He began, to Harry this almost did feel like a ritual, it felt special, and the words he was speaking were amongst the most genuine he’d ever given life to. “I promise, I will protect you. I will provide for you. I will love you. I will never, ever harm you. I will love you until my very last breath, I just need you to do this one thing for me.” His voice was barely a whisper now, and breaking as hot tears welled in his eyes. He very carefully leant down, pressing his warm, puffy lips against her cold, smooth ones. He didn’t know how long to wait, but it didn’t feel wrong. It was a sweet, tender kiss. His eyes closed, and he felt at peace. It felt more than at peace. The long grass, wildflowers, and tree branches that surrounded them began to stir with wind, petals floating up into the gusts that took them. This girl had a tendency to make him feel like he’s dead and in heaven. Her lips slowly began to warm, and skin began to glow with heat. It felt like they were floating, as if the universe was made up of just the two of them. The flowers beneath him began to grow taller and more dense, and it began to feel like his heart was pulling towards hers. It felt like a tether had been formed, connecting their energy, he could feel as her heart began to pump blood again, and her energy radiate from her skin. It felt too surreal.

Slowly, Harry removed his lips to allow Y/N to breathe. He let a hand lay gently resting on her cheek as he watched her gasp for her first new breath, eyes shooting open as she looked up at him. It wasn’t shock she was met with when her eyes met Harry’s, but peace. The luminous green eyes that were gazing down upon her were like lighthouses, guiding her towards safety. So many questions began to race her mind as she came to reality, unable to decide which one to ask first. As if based on intuition, Harry decided to speak. “I uh- I’m not too sure what happened to you but my friend found you here today and brought me to you. I believe I saw you a few weeks ago, in the same spot. I’m not sure how long you’ve been out here, but there was this little plaque at the end of this thing here, that said something about a kiss to wake you up… I’m sorry for kissing you without your consent, but I couldn’t risk not taking this chance.” He didn’t mean to ramble or to overwhelm her with his spiel, but he was overwhelmed himself with everything that had just gone on. True love’s kiss. His queen. His true love. The other half of his soul, in human form. Y/N’s lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. She closed them once more as she sat up and looked around, swinging her legs off the side of the marble before looking back up to Harry. Her movement had disconnected his hand from her face, and they both longed for each other’s touch once more already. Her eyes began to well with tears as she began to think about how she got here, her last memories.

“I can only assume how overwhelming this must all be for you… We can stay here as long as you need, it’s just us. When you feel ready for it, I can take you back to my home and we can get you showered and fed. I don’t mean you any harm.” Harry doesn’t even need to add that last sentence though, because she can feel it. She can feel his love for her, she could almost hear it if she listened closely enough, as if his heart was now beating a song for her.

Harry stood back, as if to give the doe eyed girl some space. She looked at him as if he was the most precious treasure on Earth, he’d never felt so overwhelmed with love. This was followed by her delicate hands reaching out, taking ahold of his as she brought herself to stand in front of him. “Is it alright if you hold me for a second?” She asked softly, needing time to process things.

It had been so long since she had been touched affectionately, she couldn’t really remember it. Her father was never affectionate, nor her step mother or step sisters or anyone else she’d met. She felt comfortable with the stranger in front of her though, and didn’t have the energy to resist the magnet like force pulling her towards him.

“Of course.” He responds, his voice soft as he wraps his arms gently around her frame, pulling her into his warm figure. Harry was like the perfect, giant teddy bear… but he wasn’t really that soft. Pressed against him she could feel how chiseled his features are. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she relaxed into him, cheek against the skin of his chest kindly revealed by the first few buttons of his shirt being undone. “What’s your name?” He asks, tangling his fingers in her hair to lightly rub his fingertips against the tender skin at the back of her neck.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Yours?” She asks, looking up to the tall, broad man.

“Harry.” He decides on leaving out his royal title or last name.

“Just Harry?” She asks, her eyebrows raising.

“For now. We have plenty of time to talk about me later.” He notes, removing the same rogue strand of hair as before from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. It was almost as if her hair had a life of its own, breathing, like the other flora growing in the forest. He had noticed the baby’s breath in her hair, though her hair moved, they remained in the same places, as if growing out of their place on the strand of hair. “What do you last remember?” He asks, needing to know if whatever put her in eternal sleep had been by accident, or as an act of malice. She looks back away from his face, resting her cheek once more against his chest.

“My step-mother, Styephania came over, she made me tea. That’s all I can really remember.” She said, unable to stop the disappointed sigh from escaping her lips. Maybe she’d had a freak health accident, like a stroke. Just because she’d been mistreated by her step mother her whole life, didn’t mean she was capable of murder. She knew her step mother didn’t put her out here though, this was the work of fairies. They were looking on, hiding in the bushes as they stood witness to young love blossom in front of them, not wanting to disturb the two of them. “I look crazy, and it sounds crazier saying this, but I’m certain the forest fairies are responsible for looking after me and putting me here. The day she came over was the day I think you saw me here, and I’m not sure how I’m meant to feel but I don’t feel like I’ve been a dead body since then. I feel like no time has passed at all.” Harry avidly listened to her speak, her voice like caramel, seeping in his ears and warming his whole body. Harry wasn’t phased by her mentioning fairies, Niall had suspecting this being their work earlier. It was the only explanation Harry could think of. He couldn’t understand why her step mother would leave her here, why she wouldn’t find her help.

He didn’t want to worry his sweet girl now, he wanted to make sure she felt alright, safe, and cared for. His grip on her wasn’t too tight, but firm in a comforting way. “The plaque… It mentioned how you’d only be woken by true love’s kiss.” He figured the longer he waited to tell her the stranger it would be. His cheeks were red, as if embarrassed or ashamed to tell her about the plaque, how strange it all was. Her eyes met his, and the connection gave him whiplash. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, getting lost in the little pools. He wanted to know everything about her, what she liked, disliked, what she ate for breakfast, her favourite songs, flowers, secrets. Everything.

“I don’t know if I know what love feels like. The only men I’ve spoken to are all twice my age. I wasn’t really allowed to see boys. You’re definitely much, much more beautiful than I would’ve imagined a man to be, and I’m certain that my heart is literally beating for you now, since you woke me.” She tells him, the descriptions of heroes in stories she would read, or how she would imagine the older men to look when they were younger, were incomparable to Harry. The compliment made his cheeks flush. With each beat of her heart, it was as if it was pulling her closer to Harry, calling out for him, begging for him to love on her and soothe the ache in her chest.

“How has God made something so sweet?” He mumbles, he hadn’t even realised he’d said it out loud at first. “You’re breath taking. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes upon, and trust me when I say I’ve seen a lot of them. Even from far away, the first time I saw you… You make me nervous. You make my heart race, and my palms sweat, and I get butterflies in my stomach and nervous when I think about saying the wrong thing or not having you like me. It’s as if you’ve been carved by God himself, like he was showing off when he made you so beautiful. I wish I’d met you sooner.” Those last words burn his throat, how easier the last few years would have been if he had just been able to find her sooner.

*****

Harry sent Niall back to the castle first, having him instruct everyone to clear out the path that the Prince and his soon to be queen would take to his suite, he didn’t want to spook her with people around. The guards had to stay though, non-negotiable. He also had Niall ensure the doctor was on standby, just to check on Y/N and stay in the castle over the upcoming weeks in case anything else happened. Security was going to be increased, and tightened, and a warrant put out for her step mother.

The two hour horseback ride to the castle would give them well enough time to get to know each other, Harry and Niall had also switched horses, Niall’s being the slower of the two. “I don’t want to startle you when we get there. I also don’t know how to really tell you this. I’m in the royal family, so the guards and whatnot are something to just be ignored. They’re for your protection. I don’t know if you heard much of what I was telling Niall earlier, but you’re going to be very safe here, and we’ll find out what happened. I’ll look after you, I promise.” His eyes are ahead as he speaks, looking over the vast green fields ahead of them once they eventually emerged from the forest.

“Still just Harry, to me.” She reassured, sensing his nerves about revealing this information to her. His shoulders relaxed at her reaction, and a smile formed on his lips when his mind began to wander into what their future may be like. His queen.

“Hey, one day that’ll be King Harry to you.” He joked, thankful that it was received with a laugh. Her laughter was almost as sweet as her songs, and for the rest of the journey he made it his mission to mine as many possible laughs out of her as he could, like little nuggets of treasure. After making their way through the fields that lined the forest, they went down a long road that served as a divide between two of the castle’s towns, and at the end of that road just past a small valley of mountains was a sight far more glorious than Y/N had imagined. Her village was a small village that contained mostly candlemakers and dressmakers, and it sat further to the east, people only ever going out there to purchase fine candles and clothing. It was niche though, and not many could afford the fineries the master crafters in her village would create. Y/N hadn’t even really seen a home larger than a cottage, Harry’s castle looked large enough as if it could contain its own little world, a complete wilderness of towers surrounded by fine gardens, protected by a large moat with a standalone drawbridge. Harry didn’t even need to announce himself, the drawbridge was already in the process of being lowered for him.

“I had Niall clear our path, I don’t want to overwhelm you. I’ll introduce you to everyone when you’re ready.” Harry reassures her, she hadn’t even thought of anyone else though, too in awe of the sights around her. Flowers she’d never seen before laced these gardens, with fine marble sculptures and fountains protruding from them.

“I can’t believe this is your home.” Y/N whispers, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Your home too, if you’d like.” Harry replies, though his words immediately shrouded him with nerves about rushing Y/N into anything. It was stupid, they were each other’s true love’s, but it felt wrong being strangers, so Harry tried his best to conceal things. He’d never been in a conventional relationship before, never mind whatever this arrangement is or was going to be. He just knew he wasn’t meant to rush things, so he tried to refrain from expressing his feelings as best as he could. Her arms around his waist tightened, Y/N needing to feel as close to Harry as possible. He held the reins in one hand, the other arm resting over hers around his stomach, holding on to her arm to make sure she couldn’t let go.

“I’d like that.” Y/N reassures, gently rubbing his side to soothe him. Harry was too caught up in his own feelings to pay attention to how calm Y/N was. She could feel his anxiety though, and continued to try to soothe him as best she could. Y/N knew very little about Harry so far, but what she did know was that he was kind, caring, and had a lot of worries. She’d never been a worrisome person, and if anything would even refer to herself as naive, it was something she’d always been almost ashamed of but in this moment felt like maybe she’d been made to be by Harry’s side. Y/N liked the idea of spending her days being Harry’s rock, a voice of reason. She’d rather a man like this than one who had no emotions, that was for sure. It could’ve been whatever was now eternally bonding them, but she swears she was feeling his emotions, able to see his aura if she really studied hard enough. She sunk into him some more, her arms around his waist, cheek resting against his back. Harry made sure to take it extra slow, giving his love enough time to appreciate the flowers. She seemed to like flowers, and his mother took pride in this being the most beautiful garden amongst all of the kingdoms. He couldn’t wait to show her all the fineries that came with his life.

[syndxlla]

Part eleven of the More To Love series

Summary: You get a chance to reflect on who you are, where you are with your relationships, and what you really want in life with the help of your mother, the Queen of Corellia. You meet some new seemingly friends, who quickly prove you otherwise.

Word Count: 7.1k, NO USE OF ‘y/n’

Warnings: Non-consensual kiss, swearing, alcohol

Author’s note: i am LIVID. why tumblr only lets you have a certain amount of paragraphs in a post IDK! it’s dumb haha and the only reason i went over is because there is so much dialogue in this. BASICALLY. I am making the decision to go easy on myself. I know earlier today I said part 11 would be split into two, but i am going to just make the second half be part 12. SO. i made a new moodboard for this chapter! i hope you like it :).

i wanna say a big THANK YOU to @stinky-child for helping me edit this chapter and getting it out on time!

PART 12 WILL BE RELEASED THURSDAY, MAY 27TH AT 6pm PST, 9pm EST.

part ten

Koska escorted you back to your quarters, the castle corridors were finally starting to calm down a little bit, however, more and more special guests who would be staying in the palace over the weekend walked in and out of doors, most of them not paying any attention to you because of your drab attire. You hoped the knight made it to his meeting on time and dry. There was no way to know until tomorrow morning, however. Koska was silent as she walked behind you, her footsteps much lighter than the knight’s. Your hair was thick and frizzy from the effects of the elements, and you kept your face down out of a foreign sense of shame.

Keeping your face down can’t hide that sense of shame from everyone, however, and before you can make it to your room, you’re hearing a joyful gasp and footsteps pattering in your direction. You look up from your walk of shame to see someone very important to you, it’s not your Knight, it’s not even Soniee, no. It’s your mother, the Queen of Corellia. She’s accompanied by three Corellian guards and she’s wearing the most beautiful yellow gown you had ever seen. It was clearly a gift from Bo-Katan. You smiled brightly, relieved to see someone you love. It had only been a few weeks but it felt like an eternity. You had completely forgotten she would be coming to your engagement ball. You’ve been so preoccupied with the plans and teaching the Knight how to dance that it completely slipped your mind. Your mother had a wide smile on her face, too, and wore the traditional Corellian crown. You ran to her and embraced her fighting around the waist, something that was not appropriate for royalty in public like this but you couldn’t care less. You had been so emotionally confused over the last few weeks that there was nothing you needed more than a fulfilling hug from your parent. She hums with joy when you come into her arms, and she runs her slender fingers through your beautiful hair. You sigh of relief in her embrace.

“I had forgotten you were coming.” You admit, holding back tears of relief. She chuckles in response.

“You look a mess.” She replies and you’re the one to chuckle this time.

“I’ve had quite the day.” You smile, blushing as you remember who you spent it with. “Come, I have so much to tell you.” You pull away, holding her hands in yours and then leading her to the closest sitting room. You were finally starting to understand the layout of the Mandalorian palace, it only took two weeks. This room was the same blue as the royal color, you guide her to sit by you on the sofa, and Koska awkwardly follows. You look over to the handmaiden before standing and walking in her direction. “Lady Reeves, you are dismissed.” You nod while speaking in a regal tone, but after stating it, your voice hushes and you whisper to her, “Is he going to be alright?” You ask in reference to the Knight.

She nods once, “Even if he was late, he’s bound to duty by the Queen, he’ll be okay.” Your stomach twists.

“What does that even mean?” You ask, there is much he is not telling you.

Koska sighs, she seemed to regret saying that. “I’ll worry about him, you enjoy your time with your mother.” She nods to the Queen who was patiently awaiting your return. You smile a “thank you” and walk back to the Corellian Queen. When Koska closes the door finally, you slouch into the couch, feeling pure relief as you were alone with your kin.

“You look absolutely exhausted.” Your mother says.

“I am, life here is exhausting. There are so many rules, much more than back at home.” You awkwardly shrug.

“We miss you.”

“I miss you too, more than you know.” You were so homesick these days. “I had to spend four days learning all the rules and customs and I still take private lessons from the literal queen so I don’t embarrass her anymore.” You roll your eyes, knowing that you couldn’t express this arrogance to anyone else in the palace and taking advantage of the chance now.

“Oh, I'm sorry love, I worried that there might be a bit of a culture shock.” She takes your hand with hers, stroking the stop of it with her own cold hands.

“Is father here?” You ask, your eyes hopeful. That glimmer immediately fades when she sighs, her eyes leaving yours. “What? What’s wrong?”

“He’s not coming…”

“What? Why?”

“He’s… sick, I didn’t want to tell you but it’s your right to know. You would have eventually found out anyway.” She somberly explains.

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, we think so. But traveling and socializing in his condition was not realistic. We understand that rumors will start, but his health is necessary before an impending war.” She frowns, and you try not to let it upset you too much. “Enough of that, tell me about this place.” Her tone immediately flips.

You smile, “It’s so hot, much hotter than Corellia. I mean the heat is exhausting and the dresses are heavy and the tea parties are always outside and I always feel overheated.” You complain.

“Do you at least like the prince?” She asks. “Is he cute?”

Now you must choose if you’re going to lie, like you have for the last fortnight, or be truthful with the only person you feel that you can be. You sigh, and just look at her, defeated, hoping that would be enough to tell her.

She hums empathetically. “Oh dear.”

“Yeah…” You sigh, happy she understood and you didn’t have to make the decision of communication.

“Well, keep your head up, I didn’t really like your father all that much until we had you.” She chuckles.

“What?” You ask, your eyes showing surprise. “I had no idea…” You weren’t sure how much you liked that thought, your parents had always been an example of a couple you’d like to experience for yourself. “Why had you never told me?”

“There was no reason for you to know before now. The older you get, the more you’ll learn what you need to hear.” She explains. You supposed she was right. “And remember, it’s supposed to be a partnership—marriage that is— it’s not so bad if you work at it.”

“Well, he certainly likes being solo.” You humph. “He’s very kind, and it’s clear he cares for his kingdom but-“ You knew you weren’t being completely truthful with her.

“But what?”

You debated your next words. You wanted to tell her, more than anything you wanted your mother to know what was really going on, but you knew you couldn’t. You knew she wouldn’t understand. This marriage is a diplomatic solution to an oncoming war of her home kingdom. She wouldn’t understand the strife. “Nothing.” You feel untruthful to yourself, but you can’t do anything about it. “I just feel like I will be unhappy in our marriage.”

“Marriage isn’t supposed to make you happy.”

You hated that, it wasn’t the first time she had said it to you, either. When an arranged marriage was first brought up, she said it then for the first time. The other time she said it to you was about three weeks ago, just before you were going to leave Corellia and come to this ornate prison. It was your last attempt to try and get out of it, but she uttered those words and you had to live with it.

This time, you pulled your hand away from hers. “But what about love? I thought you loved my father!?”

“I do love him, but that didn’t happen for a long time, like I said, not until you were born.”

“So then what’s the reason for all this? For sending me here for a big ball and a fancy wedding if I am not supposed to love the man I’m sharing these parties with? How am I to enjoy marriage before children then?” You stand up on these words out of frustration. You hated feeling like your only purpose in this world is to bear children, to produce an heir.

“Love between royals is not a natural thing, it can’t just happen between any two people. There must be that connection there and it often isn’t developed for a while.” She chuckles. “What? Did you think you were going to live inside one of those fairytales your wet nurse used to tell you before you went to sleep?” She asks, looking up at you, surprised.

“What do you mean ‘between royals’?”

“We must do what’s best for our people, it’s selfish to marry for love when you are royalty.”

You feel defeated.

“No… No, there's so much more to love. Love is not selfish, in fact, I believe that loving someone with our hesitation and unconditionally is the most selfless act one could ever do.” Your voice raises just a bit. You meant every word you said.

“If you feel this way about love, then surely you must love the Prince. What’s the problem then? We’ve been preparing you for this reality for years, it’s not a new concept that you would not love immediately, I can only imagine you would feel so emotionally because you have those feelings for someone.”

Did you?

You consider what she was saying, your eyes trailing to the side as you thought. You supposed she was right, there would be no reason for you to feel so passionately about it if you hadn’t experienced it for yourself.

But you weren’t having that experience with Korkie, the hell you weren’t.

Did you love the Knight? You don’t know his name, you don’t know his face, you don’t know anything about him and yet you are starting to think that infatuation has grown into adoration. Your legs feel weak, and you have to slowly lower yourself onto the couch again, feeling woozy from the realization. How did you let it get so far? Your confused face turns to look at your mother’s, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly open.

“I sense you realized something you didn’t already know.”

You slowly nod your head. Unsure of how to react, you fiddle with your fingers, trying to gain your bearings again. You expect your mother to speak up but she never does.

Before the conversation continues, however, the door is pulled open and three Knights are walking in, a Butler steps in, “Her Majesty, The Queen.” He says before nodding and stepping away. Bo-Katan glides into the room, regal as ever. You and your mother stand up from where you sat, curtsying for your hostess.

“Your Majesty.” She takes your mother’s hand, both of them smiling and kissing one another on either cheek. “I trust your travels were comfortable?”

“Yes, your coachmen were very hospitable.” Your mother nods.

Korkie then enters the rooms with another young Prince who you hadn't met before. He was blonde, and skinny as a twig. He wore a white and gold ceremonial cloak that covered his right shoulder. You smile at Korkie out of Obligation, and he and the other prince bow to the women in the room.

“Princess!” Korkie cheers, “This is my cousin, Prince Hugo of Bespin.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” He takes your hand and kisses the top of it, his smile charming and blue eyes bright. You were flattered by the gesture, humming.

“The pleasure is mine.” You follow royal protocol. Then, another woman enters the room. She’s tall, an intricate headpiece adorns long, black hair and she has hypnotic, black eyes hidden by deep set, hooded eyes. She’s beautiful, with toned skin and red dots drawn under her lips making her stand out from everyone in the room.

“Ah, Her Majesty Queen Clarya of Naboo.” Bo-Katan introduces. The Elven Queen Ahsoka then enters the room, and everyone, even the Queens bow out of respect before the door is closed. The parlor is suddenly very full, and your intimate moment with your mother is lost entirely. You are suddenly very aware of your disheveled look, and try to run your fingers through your hair a few times.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you.” Clarya says, smiling. “I’ve heard so much about you.” Taking your hand and giving you a friendly squeeze.

“Oh… I’m afraid I haven’t heard much about you.” You apologize.

“No troubles, You are all the gossip among the other Kingdoms.” The eastern queen explains.

“Yes, It appears you are.” Korkie says, moving to stand by your side. “How wonderful that my beautiful wife-to-be is regarded so highly across the world.” He tries to take your hand but you pull it away, not necessarily meaning to, but it was a reflex that you failed to suppress after realizing you were in love with an entirely different man. He clears his throat, and the aura in the room is awkward, you aren’t sure what to do, so you just say the first thing to come out of your mouth.

“Have any of you gone to the beach? It’s lovely!” You awkwardly smile before walking over to the drink cart underneath a portrait of a Manda’lor of a past generation. You try to ignore all the people, feeling a little embarrassed that they were all seeing you dressed like this. You didn’t even think of what suspicion could be born out of that phrase.

“Oh yes, our sandy beaches are widely loved by all.” Bo-Katan takes a seat on the sofa in the place you had sat at just moments before, crossing her ankles under her gown. You shakily pour amber liquid into a crystal glass, your hand shaking as you bring it to your lips, taking a sip of the alcohol.

“Nothing like the Corellian beaches, I assume?” Your mother asks. “Our beaches are rocky and often frozen over.”

“Ah yes, but the Corellian ship fjords are lovely, what a wonderful exposure to culture you raised your daughter with!” Ahsoka sings.

“She turned out alright.” Your mother teases and everyone chuckles warmly. You turn around after drinking, and sheepishly smile. Gods you hope she meant that.

“Well, we are all very excited for the ball tomorrow.” Clarya says, “My assistant worked on a mask for hours the night before we left. It will be an extravagant sight to see everyone dressed so festively.”

“Of course, but we all know none of us can compare to the fashion and extravagance of the Naboolians.” Korkie hums. Everyone chuckles again. You nervously looked out to all of them, you had just made possibly the biggest mistake of your life and none of them paid any attention to you despite it. You had just shown Korkie your first and only sign of true disinterest the night before your engagement ball and you desperately wished you could go back in time and take his hand instead of denying the act of affection, even if you didn’t feel good about it.

“I think you will all be pleased to hear that it was the Princess who came up with the Masquerade idea.” Bo gestures to you. You smile with your teeth, trying to act normal and not like you were secretly dying inside. There is general amusement when that is said, and you can’t help but fidget with the crystal alcohol glass, wanting to leave the room and return to the comfortable embrace of the Knight on the beach.

“Beautiful and smart!” Korkie’s cousin laughs, putting emphasis on the ‘and’. “It’s not every day you find a woman like that!” Everyone laughs again, and this time you force out a faux chuckle to seem more involved in the eyes of the others. “You better hang onto her, Kork!” Korkie smiled at his cousin's words, looking over to you. You feel weak, not liking all the attention. If this much attention was making you feel this way, what would the ball with hundreds of guests tomorrow night be like?

“Yes but, I can’t seem to remember going to the beach with you?” Korkie asks, his diplomatic voice cutting through the laughter. You nervously laugh. He knew something was up. How could you be so careless?

“What? Did I say something about the beach?” You try to play it off cluelessly.

“Oh come on, we all know you aren’t that ditzy.” His cousin groans

“Your fiance asked you a question, dear.” Your mother prods.

“Yes, did you go to the beach sometime during your time here?” Bo-Katan is the one to ask this time, and your legs are starting to feel unsteady.

“It’s not a bad thing, we just want to know.” Korkie takes a step in your direction, making you feel closed in. “We all love the beach here and we are happy you have gotten the chance to enjoy it.” You sensed there was an undertone with his true meaning.

You weren’t sure if you believed him when he said this, “Is it hot in here?” You chuckle, “I think I’ll have another drink, would you like one, Korkie? You ask before turning around and pouring another glass of brandy. He can see how shaky your hand is as you try to fill the cup. He stands behind you, wrapping his arm around you and cupping your hand with his in an attempt to make the pouring more steady. The action startles you, and you flinch as a reaction, dropping the crystal glass in your hand. It was already partially full, and it falls down to the floor in slow motion, golden drink splashing out of it as glass shatters on impact, making a loud, crashing sound that sends shards out across the floor and leaves a puddle of alcohol to soak into the bottom hem of Koska’s sister’s dress. The women of the room gasp from shock, and Hugo walks quickly over to see the mess. You look down at the glass in shock of what you just did, your heart sinking and stomach churning. Lady Tano is the next one to walk over to you, taking you by the shoulders and guiding you to one of the arm chairs, helping you sit down. The room was deathly silent now, you could hear your pulse ringing through your ears. Ahsoka crouches before you, ruling your hand with hers and trying to comfort you from the unexpected shock. Korkies hands are balled into fists. Was he angry with you?

“No worries.” Hugo laughs, trying to be an entertainer, “Butler!” The Butler opens the door.

“Is everything alright?” He asks after bowing.

“Yes, we just made a little mess, would you be so kind as to clean it up?” Hugo walks Korkie, who seems to be just as shocked and embarrassed as you, over to another armchair. The butler snaps and then whistles and three young maids come in, each one getting on their hands and knees to pick up the pieces of glass.

“Princess?” Your mother says, “Do you have something you would like to say to the Manda’lor?” She awkwardly asks, clearly trying to make good from the situation, side-eying Bo.

Your pale face turns to look at Bo, who had that same disappointed frown that you always see on her.

“My deepest apologies, your Majesty.” You clear your throat before painfully looking over to where Korkie sat, his hand resting in his palm and expression down turned.

“Well!” Hugo takes the center of the room. “No use in sitting here in silence, mistakes happen! Right Auntie?” He says to Bo.

“Of course.” She smiles, physically accepting your apology with a reassuring nod.

“Lovely, would anyone like some music?” He asks.

“That would be lovely, Hugo.” Lady Tano says in her ethereal voice. He smiles and walks over to the baby grand piano in the corner of the room, the same baby grand that you played at for your Knight a few weeks ago.

“The Princess plays!” Your mother says, trying to alleviate any tension.

“She does?” Hugo makes direct eye contact with you. “Would you like to play a duet with me?”

“Hugo, she just-“ Ahsoka begins but is interrupted by your mother.

“Oh won’t you play for us Dear?” She asks, smiling.

“Please! I have wanted to hear you play since I was told you could.” Bo-Katan asks. It would be rude to decline a request from the Queen and the Host of the night.

You nod and stand up, that could be just the thing you need to feel better. You walk over to the piano, stopping just before Hugo.

“Bass or Soprano?” He asks, muttering so quietly that only you can hear it.

“Soprano.” You say. He pulls the bench out and sits first since he would be playing the lower part. You then sit next to him, your hands still slightly shaking.

“Do you know the ‘Dathomirian Waltz’?” He asks. You nod. “Lovely, key of D minor then, I’ll follow you.” He pulls his hands up to the keys, and you follow, taking two deep breaths, the first to calm your shaking hands, the second to conduct both of you in at the same time. Together you play a set of intricate chords, Hugo emphasizing on the bass notes, playing a complex scale that brought his left hand over his right several times. You carry the melody, playing just slightly louder than him and allowing yourself to fall into the trance of performing. Your hands finally quit shaking after a few phrases of the music, allowing it to soothe your nerves. Music has always done that for you. All of the nobles in the room smile, the Naboolian Queen sighing at the beauty of the complicated piece. You can’t keep the smile from pulling on your lips. Korkie’s cousin was very talented, much better than you. His hand brushed against yours several times and you couldn’t help yourself from thinking about the Knight when Hugo touches you.

This was something you would never get with him. You would never get to share a memorable moment with others, never get to rub hands against each other in front of three Queens, never get to look one another in the eye without shame or secrecy. The thoughts start to overcome your consciousness, causing you to play a sour note. No one seemed to notice, but you were more aware of it than you should have been.

A beautiful piece, carefully composed and rehearsed, performed with the intent to dazzle, the intent to impress. However there will always be the sour note, an incorrect chord that the audience might not hear but those giving the show will dwell on undoubtedly.

Like the Kingdom of Mandalore.

——————————————

“Rise and Shine your Highness!” A sing-songy voice calls out to you before pulling the long, draping curtains apart and letting the warm Mandalorian sun pour into the room. You groan and flip over onto your side, your body is still exhausted from yesterday evening and you would like to sleep in a little longer.

“Oh, don’t give us that.” A more brash voice groans and you recognize it as Koska’s. You can hear a number of other bodies file into the suite, maybe three or four. The handmaid's pull in the elven dress and a light breakfast. You can still smell the salt water on your forearm as you swing your hand over your eyes. You were not a morning person. Koska walks up to your bed before sitting on the edge of it, placing her tan hand on your shoulder. “We’ve let you sleep in long enough, we have to get you dressed and ready for tea with the Queens.”

“Queens?” You mumble, slurring the ‘s’ out.

“Yup, both Bo-Katan and your mother as well as the Queen of Naboo and Duchess of the Felucian mountain Kingdom are all eager to spend brunch with you in the Garden.” More guests arrived this morning while you were still sleeping, but it wasn’t until Koska explained to you about the women waiting for you that you remembered what day it was. You opened your eyes wide, flopping your arm onto the mattress beside you and looking up at her drowsily.

“The masquerade is today.” You say out of realization. She smirks and slowly nods her head. Soniee budges into your conversation, sitting on the opposite side of the bed.

“We have two dresses for you to wear today! This one,” She pulls forward a gown that isn’t quite as full and round as the dress for the ball, but is still a lovely dress with a pretty skirt and pearls embroidered into the bodice. “And of course the elf dress.” She nods to the pink and gold gown that sat on a sewing-bust, shimmering in the light. “We won’t get you into the ball gown until later tonight.” She hums.

“Now, we have to get you cleaned up, your hair is a mess.” Koska stands up and pulls the heavy down comforter from off of you. The loss of warmth elicits another sleepy groan from your lips and you stare up at the ladies in waiting frustratedly. “Up!” Koska’s serious voice commands and you’re scared enough of her that you jump up out of bed, pulling the nightgown sleeve up that has been slowly slipping down your shoulder and showing more and more skin. “That’s better.” Koska hums, “Let’s get you a bath, yeah?” She walks towards the bath room, opening the golden gilded doors and into the naturally-light room. You will always admire the beauty and effort put into the Mandalorian palace despite the internal battle with living here. You follow her into the room, still sleepy and walking slowly but eventually making it to the tub in the center of the room. The bath has already been drawn, which they must have done in your sleep (they’ve never done that before). You strip out of the cream-colored nightie and dip into the warm water. It smelled of lavender and honey and you allowed your muscles to relax into the bubbles. It was perfect, exactly what you needed to clear your racing and stressful mind. Your muscles were sore from yesterday and the warm water and flowery oils soaked them blissfully. You sigh at the sensation but before you can enjoy it anymore, Koska is dumping the warm water over your head, wetting it completely. It’s unexpected and you gasp from shock, your eyes glued shut to keep the water out of them. Damp hands come up from out of the water to wipe your eyes but then another dump of water is pouring over your head and you’re back at square one. Koska was a much harsher bather than Sonnie was.

All is forgiven however when she starts massaging your scalp, cleaning your hair. You relax back into the tub and enjoy the seawater and wind getting rinsed out. The other ladies come in, one on either side of the tub who files your nails, and Sonnie brings in a towel and silk robe. The other handmaiden works at your calloused feet with a pumice stone and you try not to let it tickle too much. It was true pampering and you loved every second of it. Usually there’s only one maiden to bathe you but five was divine. You assumed this was the treatment the Queen always received.

After you are properly cleaned, your Corellian tea is brought in and you’re left alone for as long as you like. You slowly sip on the purple shaded drink, waking up from it’s comforting properties. You sigh deeply, allowing the fragrant air to fill your lungs while you look out of the tall, narrow window in the center of the outside wall. You could not see the ocean from here, but instead the distant roofs of Keldabe. It was a beautiful summer day, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and you could hear the birds who have nested in the nooks and crannies of the towers chirping. You knew you had a long day ahead of you, and you wanted to try and enjoy it as much as you could. You never really enjoyed the social aspect of royalty, and that’s all today will be, but you’re ready to brave it head on.

An hour passes before you are finally dressed in the first gown of the day. Your hair is braided back so that it will have a desirable wave for the ball tonight. You are snuggly tied into the pearled bodice of the dress, and you run your hands up and down the beading, allowing it to tickle your soft palms.

Koska pulls open the door, and you’re expecting to see the Knight standing there stoically as always, but he isn’t. The hallway is completely empty, in fact, and you can’t ignore the dreadful feeling that overcomes your body. Where was he?

You clear your throat, and look back at Koska, who was adjusting the skirt of your gown as you walked.

“Where is he?” You ask, your voice hushed almost to a whisper but not quite. There were a million possibilities behind his absence and not a single one of them was ideal. Koska lifts up from her crouched position, smoothing the front pleats of her dress.

“What?” She asks and you sigh out of frustration, there was absolutely no way she didn’t know what you were talking about but you had to be vague because of all the ladies in waiting listening in.

“Who will be accompanying me to the garden?” You say with a forceful tone, trying to prod at a deeper meaning to the question.

Luckily, Lady Reeves picks up on it, and she looks behind you. You felt like she was avoiding eye-contact and it only made you more stressed and confused. “I’ll be escorting you, Highness.” She nodded, moving a step forward and then taking the lead down the corridor. You follow hesitantly, and wait until you are far enough down the hall from the other ladies back in your suite to speak again.

“Don’t horseshit me.” You mutter behind her. She keeps her chin up high as usual. “He’s in trouble, isn’t he.”

Koska doesn’t answer.

“Koska, you promised me he would be okay.” You try not to let the emotion show through your tone but that was a challenge. You felt guilty for some reason. If he was in trouble, it would be entirely your fault. The words shake in your throat and maybe it’s the tight corset and the fact that you are descending the stairs but you’re out of breath and it’s hot, so hot.

“He’s fine, I swear to the stars.” She whispers, saying it straight forward instead of turning back at you in an attempt to stay calm and unsuspecting to watchful eyes.

“Well then why didn’t you tell me that?” You ask, twiddling your thumbs.

“I couldn’t… there’s more to it but-“

“But what? What could be so secretive that you have to keep it from your future queen?” You say through gritted teeth and immediately after, Koska is spinning around on the staircase and looking up at you with a furrowed brow. You felt like you were being scolded by an impatient tutor despite the fact that you out-ranked her.

“You don’t even want to be the Queen.” She says in a whisper-shout, starting to sound as angry and emotional as you were just moments before.

“You’re right, I don’t-“ You bite back.

“So why are you here, then?”

You aren’t sure how to answer, the obvious answer is for Corellia. You were promised something in return for your ability to produce an heir and look like a porcelain figurine on a high shelf. But you also knew it would make your family happy, and your Kingdom. You would be making them proud by marrying so rich. You made a promise.

But now you think you’re starting to stay for an entirely different and unethical reason. Something that is inherently a trap and you know it, and yet here you are, fussing over it at every change you have.

Koska rolls her eyes and scoffs before continuing down the stairs.

“Who spit in your porridge this morning?” You reply.

“You did.” She groans in response.

“I’m sorry, but what did I ever do to you?” You ask when you complete the steps down and start down another corridor, one section of the massive palace closer to your destination.

Koska is the one not to answer this time.

It infuriates you that everyone is keeping secrets from you, your entire experience in Mandalore feels built on deception and being left-out. And now, the two people who finally seemed to be on your side aren’t with you in one way or another on such a big day. Koska is angry with you for no reason and you have no idea where your knight is.

The rest of the walk to the Gardens is silent, and before you know it, you are plopped down on an uncomfortable wicker chair in the hot sun, sipping on lukewarm lemon tea and wondering how much longer you have to suffer. Your mother and Bo were giggling about something, the rest of the court buzzing with conversation and ignoring you as always. Was it possible that you were the problem? You ask yourself this after another sip of the tea, a lemon slice bumping up against your upper lip a few times. As you think, you hold the dainty cup against your mouth, losing yourself in thought without realization. Your pretty eyes stare down at the green grass of the Garden. The grass never gets green back home.

You start subconsciously bouncing your leg as you thought to yourself. Everyone seemed to ignore expect for Korkie and your Knight— who both want to fuck you. Maybe that was the only desirable thing about you. This wasn’t the first time you felt insecure about the relationship you have developed with the Knight. He’s so quiet, so different from you. Were you falling for a trick?

Was he?

Tea must have gone by fast because just before the pearls of your dress start to burn against your arms from the heat exposure, you’re excusing yourself and wandering back inside.

“Strange girl.” One of the noble ladies says to Bo when you walk away. You don’t hear it, you can’t hear anything except for your deafening thoughts.

“Are you sure she’s the one for your nephew?” Another asks. If you had known your mother was silent for all of this in fear of losing her reputation or even the deal between Corellia and Mandalore, you would have been furious.

“Well his father was an outcast, too.” One chuckles. “I guess you Kyrze’s attract the wallflowers.” A few hummed in amused response.

“Well his father wasn’t just an outcast, he was a downright scandal-“

“My sister loved him, and that is all that matters.” Bo interrupts. The laughter quickly dies out.

“Don’t tell me you believe in love, too.” One laughs.

“You aren’t married, what could you know of love?” The same one bo interrupted says.

“I do believe in love, which is why I am not married.” The Queen reiterates. “And I don’t think she’s the right fit for my Nephew, she’s too… outspoken. He needs someone who won’t outshine him.” They chuckle again, all do but your mother, who is still meekly silent.

“Well with the engagement Ball tonight, it is far too late to back out now.” One teases, and the laughter only grows.

Bo-Katan stares in the direction you left.

You huff down the hall, your arms folded and neck sweaty from the heat. You are looking back and forth, studying the layout of the hall in search of something. You’re looking for the smallest idea of where the knight could be but you aren’t very successful.

While all the fully armored guards of the Mandalorian palace are dressed identically, you are almost certain you would be able to spot your boy in a crowd of a thousand of them. You aren’t sure why, but there is something different about him, something that sticks out from the rest. Somehow you two were connected, and it made it so he was always plaguing your mind, even when you are with your literal fiance. Even when you are far away from him and have no clue where he is for the first time in two weeks.

Separation Anxiety.

You aren’t watching where you’re going, which makes you run into a tall, lanky boy. You yelp out in apologetic surprise, looking up at the person blocking your stressed search. A blonde boy flips around to look at you and you’re half expecting to see Korkie but it isn’t.

His Cousin, Hugo, looks down at you with his same charming smirk as always.

“Princess!” He bows.

“My apologies, Hugo!” You exclaim.

“Oh please, you are perfectly fine. You looked distressed? I hope It was not something I did?”

“Of course not!” You reassure, awkwardly smiling. “Uh- may i ask what you were doing in the center of the corridor?”

He chuckles, “Admiring this art.” He nods to an expansive, framed oil painting on the wall. It was of a tall man with a long face and alarming smirk. What stuck out to you, however, was that he held in both hands the same black sword from the royal portraits upstairs by the war room.

“The art is beautiful here.” You smile.

“Yes, my Aunt Satine worked hard to make it culturally rich.”

“Did you know her?”

“Yes, I am a bit older than Korkie, and I knew her for several years before she passed.”

“Are you… second in line?”

“I am.” He says with a classic amused smirk.

“So maybe you can answer a question for me, then.” You ask as you look up at the art. “What in the world is that?” You ask in reference to the blade.

“That, my foreign Princess, is the Dark Sword of Mandalore.”

“The what?” You cluelessly ask.

“A sacred weapon that the rightful ruler possesses, it’s rather powerful.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before.” You look up at it in awe.

“Hah, yes. It is made of pure obsidian. The white is enchanted quartz veins. It is practically invincible, an elven Mand’alor forged it when he was just a boy.”

“What? There were Mandalorians who were part elf?” You ask, your eyes peeling off of the art and onto your companion.

He looks at you almost confused, “There is much you do not know about my Kingdom?”

“No… I’m afraid not.” You shamefully admit.

“Most don’t,” He shrugs and returns to the conversation unbothered, “It’s history is rather complicated.”

The two of you were quiet for a long time. Your eyes were glued to the stern face of the man in the portrait. You wondered who he was. Hugo is the first to speak up.

“You played beautifully last night.” You doubted he didn’t notice the incorrect notes and mistakes you made several times, maybe he was just being polite by ignoring them. You turn to look at him and smile kindly.

“As did you.” You return the compliment. He looks at you, and you must have been distracted by something other than him because you weren’t aware that his eyes were darting between your eyes and your lips.

Hugo forces a kiss on you.

Just like how Korkie did a few weeks ago in the library. It’s fast because you angrily pull away just as fast as he placed it on you.

“What?” You say like an idiot, looking up at him in shock.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t feel it?” He gets defensive immediately. The worst part is that it wasn’t even that bad of a kiss, much softer than Korkies, but nowhere as tender as the kisses the Knight would lay on you in the water or behind a closed door. Your entire body seemed to seize up, and you couldn’t get any words out. Not any words that you wanted to say. You just looked up at him, vulnerable and confused. He leans down to do it again but you’re able to turn your head to the side, keeping his lips off of you.

“I am… in love with another man.” You say, clearing your throat.

“You and I both know that isn’t my cousin.”

No use denying it at this point, “yes, but I am still engaged to him. I cannot just be disloyal to the future Mand’alor.” You mutter, embarrassed but trying to keep your cool. You knew you were lying, because you weren’t staying loyal to Korkie. No, you were outright cheating on him and you were falling in love with the boy you were cheating with. You were falling in love. You were very exposed, after all. Anyone could turn the corner or look through the windows and see you. It was different this time, however. Usually hiding your kisses are exciting, but that was only with the Knight. “Please,” You voice betrays you, and the emotional shake is heard through your clenched jaw, “Excuse me.” You push passed him frustratedly, making sure to shove him over a little with your shoulder. You angrily walk back to your room, finally getting there without help for the first time.

When you turned down the Corridor to your suite, you were hoping to see the beskar-clad boy who held you last night, but he still wasn’t there. You hold back emotional tears, but not seeing the one who brings the most comfort to you makes you break. Two crystal tears roll down your cheeks.

You have been taken advantage of too many times in this forsaken castle.

You pull open the door, the golden afternoon light reflecting warmly off of the gold-leafed furniture and decorations is a stark contrast from the bleak hallway. Your bed has been made, and things have been tidied up since you were in here last. You flop onto the mattress, your arms stretched out from your sides, looking up at the sheer canopy above where you lay.

Two hours pass. You think you fell asleep but you cannot remember. If you did, no dreams were had.

Soniee opens your door with trepidation after two soft knocks, “Princess, It is time to prepare for the ball.” Her voice is so timid. You twist your head to look at her, the other ladies from this morning were behind her. Koska was not with them.

You sit up from the bed, rubbing a crook in your neck from how you were laying...

—

authors note (again): i know this isn’t the best chapter ending but ya know... IT WASNT SUPPOSED TO BE

Anyways..... see you tomorrow? i guess? haha

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—

part twelve

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

The Ending of The Everlasting Sun.

Soukoku angst: will have 2 parts, one is Chuuya pov another is Dazai pov (Dazai is part 1 aka this piece. I'll start chuuya's tomorrow)

I’ll do a version for Dazai after (not pov but version so Chuuya can have the dose of Dazai’s pain T_T).

Warnings: Death, gore, violence, angst with just more angst. (idk if i consider dazai ooc but towards the end is mostly how i feel the situation would happen, so kinda ooc)

TBH, I don't know why I wrote this but hey I love feeding peeps and myself angst so, here you go.

The Ending of The Everlasting Sun. | A Soukoku Angst one-shot |

words: 4264

Dazai’s pov- (it swaps between third and first. I know my writing style is weird af)

The sun, a forever gleaming light in life. They say even in death, the sun won’t fade from your view. For light, something that brings reason to a life so pitched in black is everlasting. There is a place that resides within a person the sun that will never leave. Like the memories that one left behind shall forever hold. Memories will not fade, even as the deceased are placed within mounds of dirt, their body left to neatly decompose.

They say it is natural to feel your heart so heavy. To feel so pained when death washes over. Death can change a human, they say, death is rebirth, something shall always come from it. In some ways, Dazai knew the truth of such words. For he’s experienced the death of his light. At least he had thought the brunette, who’d stuck by his suicidal tendencies, his cruel ways, he thought that man had been the light. He had changed, he’d moved on into the light of this world. His heart may still be shadowed in the darkness the mafia left. The memories of those he left may never leave, but he was in the light. He was the light for another now. Still, dark himself, he’d help lead his news pupil to the light. He repeated this so often, yet why, why did his mind travel back to those days, the days when he was alongside that small ginger boy? The boy with anger issues could be heard a mile away, was he important? Why must he feel as if he left behind something important when he’d listened to a friend's dying wish? Surely he was better off now? He felt better, life wasn’t as black or as unlit as it had once been. So why? Why was it always that ginger that popped into his head on those restless nights? He worried so much if he was okay. If he was out there using that uncontrollable side without him. Ever since he left, he’d worried that ginger would do something as stupid as that. So maybe, just maybe, this world had blessed him with two lights. A light to change, that light had left him to save him. Then the second light, the light that showed him he could love and be loved. This world could take both lights to make such a realization, and eventually, this world, so cruel and dark would. Not by fate, but by the hand of an enemy who sought out Dazai’s weakness.

I stood beneath pelting rain, my mind held within it one thought, where was he? Never had the small boy I'd fallen for in my early teens missed a chance to torment me as I had tormented him. Never had he let the phone, to which we still held each other's numbers unblocked, reach the full number of rings before the voicemail kicked in. I had never felt this before. Nor had I the courage to admit such a thing. For feelings were only a danger to men like myself. I am undoubtedly cruel. Even now, in my early twenties, I stand beneath the rain alone. The mistakes of my past hanging over me for somebody to eventually discover. The past profession I had tried to hide and had hidden well for many years was creeping to my heels. The man whom I'd sought help from was gone, his final words my reason to be in the light. If neither side means anything, he told me to help the defenseless, to help the orphans. That is what I did. I left behind the ginger-haired boy whom, I now say with hesitance, I loved. It is a fine point that I was able to decline such things until after I left the mafia, for otherwise, I may have tried to do good whilst in the mafia, so I could stay with my final light within my life. Many have shed their light on me. The orphan I took in has shocked me many times, reading me in a way I thought only Oda, my extinguished light, could. He knew I was mourning that past friend when he found me at his grave. He continues to shock me to this day, the only one who can occasionally see past the mask I've worn since I was 14, since Mori found me. Kunikida has taught me responsibility and morals. There is still a bottle of things I shall never change. Some people can’t change. My mind prevents me from collecting such information about being human. My ability says it all, does it not? It is a perfect description of myself. The intelligence I share with Dostoevsky is merely one of the many things that keep me behind the wall of change. I may do things for another reason, but I am still a shadow over the people around me. I curse them all, I have brought heavy burdens onto the agency, I harm all of those around me. Love is a feeling I'm incapable of. At least, I can not recognize true love, only conclude that is what this pain is. It is a pain like no other, it is not physical, but no sense of being can push away the tangent throb of every beat. It is my mind, and the way I was brought up so young, that initially warped me beyond repair. That is why I am here, running in the rain despite my coworkers protesting to stop me.

Dazai understood the trap he was headed for, but he knew the trap would result in a fatality either way. If it was his death that waited for him, then he was alright with that. If it was painless, and he died a quick death before his mouth could run to say final bidding words to Chuuya, then he’d die. If this taunt was to break him, if he were to be late, he would drop to his knees and beg his old friend, who lay watching over him, to be forgiven for his actions tonight. If some awful being really did oversee this world, let it give Dazai one moment of peace. Let him have one good light stay until he is gone. He couldn’t do it again, the pain of holding a bloodied body within his arms, it would be hell. He knew not of true mourning, the pain of losing the one, who in a storybook, could be considered a soulmate. He knew it, others knew it, so many people knew the way he stared at Chuuya was not a friendly matter. There was lust within his soft chocolate hues, a hidden cave behind closed doors. Secret thoughts hidden in his mind. The things he wished he could have done before he left, the way he wanted to fix things, to regain what he had lost by leaving the mafia.

With every soft patter, Dazai flew between streets and yards. With every step, he grew closer and closer. With every new step, he felt his heart sink. For the area around was brittle and frail. The ground was crushed and indented. Some buildings lay in tattered pieces. Holes the size of beds lay stretched in the buildings and grass. The worst began to form in his head as his legs picked up into a pace he thought he could never take into. His lungs burned with the inhaled drips of water that turned to flames within his lungs. He pushed past the pain, the burn, the tired flail of limbs. His legs grew numb, but he refused to stop until his arms were flying open doors to a building that looked so horribly damaged.

As if I were the show that night, I could remember the lights. My lungs felt like fire, and my legs were ready to buckle beneath my frail body. I had not eaten a proper meal for weeks, my pockets empty from money spent to cover the scars I had littered my body with. The night is a haze within my mind. An unwilling nightmare I wish to set aside and to never look at again. A night I wish could be rewritten. It was a night that even I had thought the same way as Destoveski. My mind was no longer set right, that side of me to which was feared, had ripped from its confines and torn through to confine me to my own mind. I had truly wanted to tear a sheet from the book spoken about so much in this little town of Yokohama. If it meant my lights could come back and this world could change, then I would, I would do it without a blink. I’d make myself the villain to free my light. I would do it for the right reasons. Yet, I could never ruin the lights of others. There would be too many sacrifices to do such a thing at that moment. To this day, I curse myself for thinking like that man, thinking about such things would make me like him. Dostoevsky was no man I wanted to be.

The light pulsed for a moment before illuminating the room in a sharp glow of white. Dazai stood blinded before the room came into focus, the empty space warm in comparison to the pelting rain. For a moment, the world had paused, allowing his mind to make a sharp halt and think. Though his thoughts were not something he wished to hear. The thoughts inside his head screamed an equal verse to the night he’d lost Oda. He had no more time to pause, as soon as he’d adjusted to the blaring lights, he was scanning the room, finding the spots of blood, the corpses littered on the ground. Then, he was running against his will again. The next thing he knew, he was diving forward too quickly brush against the ginger, who’d consumed his thoughts since they reunited all that time ago.

The first thoughts I had when I felt the cloth of his jacket, the same one I had sown hat-rack into when we were 15, were thoughts of panic. I was always the type of man who wore a mask, but that mask only masked my depression. I yearned for death, I lived to be human, and that feeling you have right as you fall victim to death may be my only chance at life. My co-workers were never worried about me. At first, I had shocked them. I remember the way Kunikida halted with his trust, how on my first job he watched me with a hawk's eye. Never once did I not feel the burning gaze of his judgment. I never blamed him, I was a man with an erased past. There was nothing to tell whether I was good or evil. The day I entered the agency, I would have said I was that darker gray that wisps on the side of black. Today, I would tell you I wanted to be the light, to be good, but I am far from it. It shall always be my nature to look up into another and dive within their soul. My hands are skilled in ways of torture. I could shoot down an enemy with my eyes closed. These pieces of me still exist, even though I had locked them to the confine of my mind, a faraway nightmare that haunted me. The faces of the victims who plead because they had family, haunt me. It’s not remorse I feel, it’s a haunting reminder that I shall never see that friend again. When I die, I shall not meet him in the afterlife, if there is one at all. I like to believe that one can look up and think there is such a place. These thoughts, wishes, all suddenly reappeared the moment his body fell to the floor. Yet, even coated in his own blood, his breathing so unsteady I feared he was only a few breaths from death, he remained beautiful. How could I, a genius strategist with an inhumane IQ, let this happen? Why had I not called him, this ginger, ocean-eyed slug? Chuuya, he’d always be those names to me. I still wonder why we call each other such things, but it makes us both feel alive. With him, I could act like a child, as I never had a true chance to be a child. Even now, if I could muster up the courage as I write, I'd twist the narrative so it looked as if I did not care. If I did that, I would dishonor the words we had shared that night.

Dazai rushed over the pavement to grab hold of Chuuya. His hands sliding over the boy's body to pull him over his lap. His eyes are a sea of worry and panic. One of his hands grabbed the boy’s wrist lightly, his pulse was so slow, his eyes were already slowly dropping, but Dazai stayed confident. “Hey Chibi, you’re an idiot.”

The frail form of the boy beneath him cracked a small smile. “You’re the idiot you- his body racked itself with a spurt of coughs, his lips dripping crimson to join the stains on his perfectly pale skin.- d-damn mackerel.”

Dazai dropped the boy's wrist with a chuckle, pressing his hand to the boy's lips. “Yeah, I know Chibi, I know. - The ginger's eyes began to flutter shut.- No Chibi, your eyes have to stay open. Look, I've got people coming to fix you up. So just try to keep yourself awake.” Dazai’s hand moved to cup the other's cheek. “You’ll be okay.”

Chuuya’s breath staggered a wheeze interrupting the shallow breaths he’d been going through. “I’m dying, aren't I?”

Dazai shook his head, feeling his chest sting with the familiar pain of grief. As if somebody took a microscope over the feeling, it continued to grow. By now, he was sure the pain exceeded the total amount of grief he’d gone through with Oda’s passing. “No Chibi, you’re not… you're not dying.” He paused in that sentence looking down at Chuuya, who laughed dryly.

“So fucking optimistic.” They sat in silence, and Chuuya's eyes fixed on Dazai. Though it was unnoticed by Dazai, his clouded tired eyes were on his lips. He was taking into memory the parts of wishes he’d never get. Every passing second, Chuuya felt his eyes threaten to drip shut. He was trying to listen to Dazai, but his eyes were bricks; sleep a melody that sang to him. With the fear of never waking up again, Chuuya lifted his hand from his side to reach Dazai’s cheek, his blood leaving a mark. “Hey, Dazai.” His voice lacked anything but sincerity.

“No Chuuya. No, you’re okay! Just a few more minutes and Yosano will be here! Fuck, just stop moving, keep your eyes open, keep breathing because you’re alright.” Chuuya had never seen Dazai act like this before. So as Dazai’s hand warmly wrapped around his, his head pressing into the cold touch of Chuuya’s, words were spoken.

“Dazai, I. Never. H-hated… you. I. lov-” before those words could finish, his body was shaking. Tears were forming, he was still conscious and very much alive, but his entire system of organs and cells were rejecting him. The use of corruption had been at its limit long before Dazai had touched him. Before his ability had been canceled out, he was beyond death. The way he coughed his hands, flailing out to grab Dazai’s shirt and press their bodies together, made even Dazai emotional. Dazai managed to still the boy's movements. His eyes half-open as he tried to hold onto whatever string was left. “Lo-” this time he was cut off by Dazai’s hand. His head shaking, hearing Chuuya speak would make this far too real.

He wasn’t ready to let him go. For the first time, he wanted to be far from death, far from the pain and suffering of humankind. So as Chuuya smiled and looked to the ceiling, his hand continued to stroke Dazai’s cheek. A reminder he was still alive.

That moment ended all too quickly when Chuuya took a final staggered breath and looked to Dazai. “Loved you.” He finished his sentence before his eyes dropped shut. His hand slipped into a limp state within Dazai’s hold.

It took the brunette no time to jump to compressions. He continuously screamed. A voice that had never once mourned, or shed a tear, now sat in a contorted expression between agony and doubt. His mind was static, for the first time nothing clear could form within his head. He shrieked out for Chuuya. Open your eyes, he had chanted and begged before he no longer had the strength to continue. He simply fell on top of Chuuya, his ear to his chest praying to hear a soft thud. Three minutes passed before his body, devoid of any, and everything was yanked away. Had he been shown a mirror, one would not have recognized Dazai. His clothes were bloodied, his hair disheveled and wet from the rain he’d run in only a handful of minutes ago.

Dazai sat numbly as his co-workers looked around trying to find if there was any danger left. When the scene was clear and Yosano made the final statement, the world truly crumbled. Still, despite having started CPR and rescue breaths, despite having felt the cooling touch of his skin, Dazai had held onto the hope that Yosano would fix this. He watched as she put on a work face. Her heels clicked across the ground as she walked over to Dazai with a doctor's approach, not a friend's approach. She bent before Dazai and began to speak. “Dazai, I need you to focus your eyes on me, alright?” Dazai could read her mind like an open book. His mind, in his numb state, had returned to his 17-year-old self. Devoid of any real feeling, bent on causing pain and suffering. He tilted his head like that child-self would in this situation. For once, he genuinely felt human. “I understand you were close to Nakahara-san. You were also here at the scene. It’s with much regret-” before she could finish, Dazai’s eyes grew cold and clouded, his lips a snarl as he shoved her.

“He’s okay! Chuuya is okay, he’ll wake up! He always does, even when I have to change things in a second advance because I fucked up. He's okay! We’re soukoku, double black. We can’t be put down. We’re partners, we need each other." even Yosano froze at the sudden outburst. The way Dazai cried without realizing the tears were falling. The way he tried to look happy as if he hadn’t watched Chuuya die within his arms. “Right… he’s okay right?” Dazai hardly knew what he was saying, his head foggy, his mind trying to stay collected.

If one could compare him to anything, one would say that moment he'd looked like a child, no older than fourteen, who’d watched a death before their eyes. Yosano collected herself before shaking her head. She decided to take the approach she’d have with a child instead of an adult. For in this moment, Dazai was experiencing what one could call his first-ever truly emotional loss. This was the first time his mind was catching up with him. “Dazai, Chuuya cared very much for you. You know that right?”

Dazai seemed to calm slightly at the thought as he focused on Yosano. “Yeah, he loved me… he said he loved me.” Suddenly, the situation became worse than she’d thought.

“Mhm, and you loved him too?” Dazai took his time to slowly nod before gulping and shrinking down.

“And now… he’s not coming home. No more loud, annoying comments. No more nights at the bar…” Dazai’s voice choked before the sounds of more footsteps followed in.

A high-pitched female voice screamed in a shrieking roar. “Where is he!” Dazai knew that voice. Kouyo, his Ane-san. At least, at one point she’d been his Ane-san. But his eyes stopped looking at Yosano and instead took a glimpse at Chuuya, whose corpse still lay there.

Once more, Dazai’s emotions took control, and he placed his hands over his eyes and shut himself away. Yosano swore under her breath and stood up. “Which one is he?” Yosano stood up rather angrily. She disliked her conversations being so rudely interrupted, even if it were somebody she had a small connection with.

“Chuuya…” the red-haired female stormed over before spotting Dazai first. His body cradled in like a child. A position she’d never seen him in. Her heart could only lurch to the worst. Hesitantly, she looked off to the side and saw it. The bloodied corpse. She spent no more time looking, she couldn’t.

She shoved Yosano away from Dazai, a boy she had once helped to look after and almost raise. Though she resented the boy for abandoning his role as an executive, she knew how much the pair had been connected. So she’d be a mother or older sister for a bit. Something Dazai had never seemed to have. “Dazai, it’s Kouyo, can you look at me? I just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

Dazai peeked from his arms, sniffing in his delirious state as he lunged towards her. Not in a hostile way, but an embrace. Something he never thought he’d need. He felt so human, so alive, but at the same time, he felt so dead inside. He felt as if his life had been torn and replaced within seconds. This feeling he couldn’t place a name on. “I was too late… I couldn’t, and now he’s and I… it’s all my-'' Kouyo was quick to shut him down, muffling her own sobs as she rocked Dazai in her arms.

“Hush child, these things happen. The fault is never that you could not make it in time. The fault lies within the bastard who did this. He always took extremes to protect you, Dazai. So hush now, let yourself grieve.” There was a slight pause as the agency starred in shock. This woman, who most of them knew as a vengeful woman with no remorse, sat cradling a grown man from an opposing organization as if he were her child, no more like an older sister cradling a younger brother. “Dazai, I won’t criticize your reaction, I've seen it many times in the mafia. Little children who witness death at such a young age think they are immune to it. They find another blame or they say they are monsters. You were 14 when Mori took you in. You never had somebody to teach you to grieve. You never needed to, not until now. So listen to me child, you’re going to let it all out, the years of pain and suffering, the years of grief for lost friends, even I have cried in my life. Nobody is immune to pain, some of us just think we are.” As Kouyo spoke, she noted Dazai’s breathing reached a slowing point. He was fast asleep before she finished her words. Her touch was gentle as she brushed a lock of his hair behind his ears.

Next, she walked over to Chuuya and hung her head, murmuring words of mourning. She walked off quickly, but came back moments later with his hat. “He’d want somebody to have it.” Yosano stood beside Kouyo, who choked back her own tears.

“I think it should go to Dazai. He always mocked his hats, even though he loved seeing Chuuya in them. They really were meant for each other. It’s unfortunate such a great pair ended up… in a life like this. Perhaps they will be reborn in an era where they are nothing but students who fall in love. I like to think there is always a second chance for lives that end too short.”

With a nod, they both looked to Dazai, who looked at peace sleeping on the ground.

~

When I woke up that day after, I could hardly remember anything. I had lost myself completely to the side that was human. I truly did try to live on, but it was difficult. No matter where I looked, I could see his laugh, I hated it. The pain that constantly wrapped around me. Hence, why I sit here with a pen. I never took myself to write my thoughts down. Oda had once ruminated about being a reader, he died before he ever could. I miss them both. I say that, but when I look down at the tear-stained paper, so many of them were for Chuuya. A love I never got to kiss or truly love. Today, I will not wake up. I no longer care about things like making my death overly complex and comfortable. I shall go to sleep with Chuuya’s hat at my side. I shall die with him at my side. That is how it should have been. Chuuya should have lived that night. I shall never know what sparked him to use corruption without me there. All I know is the worst person in the world, Destovesky, who now lay in a ditch from my own pistol, threatened the ginger to such an extent he felt the need to use it. In a way, I have solved several problems with one action. I killed the criminal, and I'm killing the single person whose blood runs more mafia black than any other.

Tag list If you want to be added when I upload fics/HC etc., just shoot me an ask: @jadegreenimmortality

[harrysweasleys]

seekers keepers // h.p

Summary: Hi lovely! I'm not sure if request are still open but would you write a Harry Potter x reader where the reader is a Weasley and is Fred and George Triplet? reader has a crush on harry so they tease her about it (with him being younger and that) but she doesn't know that harry also has a crush on her and is just a cute oblivious mutual pining until they realize their feelings for each other? i really liked this idea in my head and i hope you liked it too, send you my love and best wishes!

Warnings: language? idk

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: requests are still closed but will eventually reopen! (sooner rather than later, don’t worry!) enjoy. xoxo

———————————

Being a triplet was hard. So very hard.

You loved your dear brothers, they were quiet a blast to be around, but there was just one tiny problem. People quite often never saw you as you. They saw you as Fred, George and Y/N. Your name always came with theirs, just like you did. You’d spent most of your life surrounded by these two boys — so much so that every friend they had was a friend of yours.

Not that you minded, especially when that friend was Lee Jordan, who was quite possibly the most optimistic, bubbly person you had ever met and easily became your best friend as well. No, that you didn’t mind. But what you did mind was that when your younger brother Ron befriended Harry Potter, Fred and George decided to pal him up as well.

Harry was lovely. Awkward, intelligent, and quick on his feet. Always had been, even as a young wizard with little to no knowledge of the magical world.

You had met him in your third year, when he was in his first. Ron had talked about him non-stop since then, really, so when Harry himself reached his third year, Fred and George decided the three of you would take him under your wing and pass on the legacy of the Marauders Map to the adventurous dark haired boy.

And in that moment, when Harry thanked you with everything he had, you knew you were done for. What was it that made you fall for him, you can’t pinpoint. But as the years progressed, Harry just got more and more intriguing. You had nearly lost your marbles completely when he was chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. When he had given your brothers his winnings, your heart completely forgot all the worry it had experienced in the past year and became filled with adoration.

But in your final year, when Harry had founded Dumbledore’s Army to retaliate against Umbridge’s evil reign, you knew in that moment that there was no chance you’d ever find someone as kindhearted as him. And if it was even possible, you feel for that boy even more.

The only thing holding you back from confessing to him was the fact that you were a triplet. Would Harry see you as just another Weasley? Would he see you as just Fred and George’s triplet? Was that all you were? He was the Chosen One, the boy who lived, quite possibly one of the most famous young wizards of all time. How could you be good enough for that?

Fred and George, naturally, knew about your crush from the get-go. Just like you knew about all of their crushes from the moment they bloomed as well. As a triplet, being so connected to your siblings creates this mental and emotional bond — you can easily tell how the others are feeling just by being near them.

They took every chance they could get to tease you about it. Like right now, for example, as the three of you walked down to the Quidditch pitch on a cloudy spring afternoon.

“Oi, there’s your man,” George nudged your shoulder, an annoyingly teasing grin plastered on his face as the three of you entered the Gryffindor tent, “You gonna go tell him you love him and all?”

“Shut your trap, George,” you snapped, glaring him down as you walked to your cubby, “Or should I tell a certain someone about your feelings? No? Don’t want that? Then shut it.”

George raised his hands in surrender, narrowing his eyes at your comment, “Fine, I’ll stop.”

Fred reached your other side, opening his own cubby and grabbing his robes, “Oi, Harry!” he called out, eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face, “C’mere.”

Your heart sunk as you glared at Fred, who was glaring right back at you with an unreadable expression. He was obviously doing this to rile you up, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working.

“What is it?” Harry jogged over, already donned in his Quidditch gear.

Fred looked between you and Harry, placing his hand on your shoulder and giving you a sarcastic smile, “Lovely sis here wanted to tell you something.”

You glared daggers at Fred. If looks could kill, you’d happily be watching him lying motionless on the floor right about now.

“What’s up, Y/N?” Harry asked, clearly nervous. You figured it was just due to the upcoming match. After all, it was for the Quidditch Cup. And it was against Slytherin.

“Uh—” you completely blanked as you turned your attention to Harry, “Just wanted to say good luck. The usual.”

Harry grinned, but it didn’t meet his eyes, “Right, thanks. You too.” He continued to look at you, nodding awkwardly as silence filled the tent.

You had never wished to be further away from the tent than in that moment. You could hear Fred and George stifling laughs in the background. Oh, how badly you wanted to turn around and jinx them.

“Uh, anyways,” you broke the silence, clearing your throat, “See you on the pitch.” Harry bid you a good game once more and took off in the opposite direction. You spun on your heel, turning to face your brothers with pure frustration.

“You two are right gits, y’know?” you glared, storming over with your hands placed on your hips.

“C’mon, we reckon you two just need a bit of a push,” George smirked, motioning a slight push with his hands, doing a terrible job at trying to pretend he was no longer laughing.

You shook your head, turning to your cubby and grabbing your robes, “Don’t blame me if I give you a slight push off a cliff, dear brother.”

They continued laughing as you walked into the changing booth, switching your comfortable, warm clothing for your Quidditch robes. You loved them, you really did, but they barely did the proper job of keeping you warm.

After changing and neatly folding your clothing, you exited the booth and stuffed your clothing in your cubby. You could hear the loud audience starting to fill the Quidditch stands, the heavy footsteps above echoing throughout the tent.

“Big game,” George leaned in beside you, a grin on his face, “Last chance to win the cup.”

“I know,” you grinned, forgetting your previous anger towards him and focusing on the game ahead, “We bloody well better win.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Fred appeared on your other side, also grinning like an idiot, “We’ve got your boyfriend on the team.”

Your eyes shot in his direction, throwing your hand over his mouth to prevent him from saying anything else. Luckily, you noticed, Harry was too busy talking to Angelina to notice the commotion.

“Oi, what did I say about pushing you off a cliff?” you spoke through gritted teeth, Fred’s wiggling eyebrows only adding fuel to the fire bubbling in your belly. You couldn’t stand them sometimes.

“Freddie, let her be,” George snickered, trying his best to be the better brother in the current situation, “Sometimes, you can’t help falling in love.”

“I’m fed up with you two,” you groaned, slapping a hand to your forehead and glaring back and forth between the two of them, “Not a word, you hear? I’ve had enough.”

They both nodded understandingly, “Fine, we’re sorry.”

You didn’t believe them, but you dropped the subject and focused on the sound of the cheering audience above you, Madam Hooch calling for the teams to join her on the field.

You followed Angelina out of the tent, the deafening cheers being amplified now that you were out in the open. Much to your pleasure, the clouds seemed to have vanished and the bright sunshine was beaming down on the pitch.

Angelina and the Slytherin Captain shook hands, and the match begun.

You flew up to your goalposts, taking your position as Keeper and letting your eyes rapidly scan the field in order to prevent Slytherin from getting on up on you.

Nearly half an hour into the game, Gryffindor was up by seventy points. It was thrilling, but you were beginning to get anxious. Harry was zooming around rapidly, stopping ever so often so scope out and search for the flicker of gold. But it didn’t appear as if he had seen it just yet.

You had found yourself struggling to focus, despite the pressure and weight that this particular match held. You could see Harry zooming by your goalposts out of the corner of your eye, smiling at your whenever you made eye contact. It was pleasantly frustrating, but you knew that the team would have your head on a stake if you didn’t stop Slytherin from scoring.

“Keep your eye on the Quaffle,” Fred’s voice nearly scared you off of your broom, zooming by you to knock the Bludger in the opposite direction.

You scowled, “And you keep yours on the Bludger, you bloody wanker!”

He chuckled as he flew off, leaving you be to continue your duty. Quidditch games were usually nerve wracking, but cup games were a whole new level.

You had won the cup back in your fifth year — one of the highlights of your time at Hogwarts — and you wanted nothing more than to complete your time here with another victory.

“Gryffindor scores!”

The crowd cheered, causing you to grin widely, shooting a thumbs up to Alicia Spinnet who was boasting proudly about her goal. You watched as Harry went over to congratulate her, wishing that you could fly over and be a part of the fun as well, but you sat by your goalposts and celebrated by yourself.

The game started up again, your team up in a decent lead, until you noticed Harry zoom down towards the ground in a determined dive, Malfoy following his move to try and catch the Snitch before him.

You had been so distracted by the neck to neck fight that you nearly let in a goal, luckily stopping it a second before it went in. You tossed the Quaffle to Angelina —

“Harry has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup!”

If the audience was loud before, it was nothing to how loud it became after the announcement. Your heart did a gleeful summersault and you left your post, rushing to join your team on the pitch grounds to celebrate.

Harry was beaming proudly, holding the Snitch high in the air. You couldn’t help the smile that rose to your lips as well as you watched him in his element, the pride radiating off of him and becoming contagious.

You felt someone nudge you from behind, causing you fall into Harry’s body with a slight ‘oomph.’

“Blimey, sorry, Harry,” you mumbled, pulling yourself off of him and hiding your face, knowing damn well it was either Fred or George who had knocked you over.

He grinned, clearly unbothered by your fall, “It’s no problem, Y/N. Congrats on the win!”

Your previous embarrassment faded quickly, “Yeah, same to you.”

Before you could register his movements, he pulled you into a bone crushing hug. All the coldness you had felt out and about in the chilly spring air completely vanished, warmth surrounded your body. Whether it was from your flushed state or his body, you couldn’t tell. But it was comfortable and you didn’t want him to pull away.

“Where’s our hug, mate?” Fred smirked, opening his arms wide and facing Harry, who pulled away from you hastily and flushed a light pink.

“He’s only jokin’,”George knocked Fred’s arms down, “How are we going to celebrate?”

You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes and trying to think of something, “We could just do a small party. The common room couch is calling my name.”

Harry nodded appreciatively, “I’m not in the mood for anything too big, guys. Common room party sounds brilliant to me.”

“Lame,” George scoffed, “But if it’s what our star wants, it’s what our star will get.”

Harry chuckled awkwardly at George calling him a ‘star.’ It took everything in you not to smack your brother over the head.

Sometimes, they knew just how to push every last button.

——

The Gryffindor common room found itself incredibly packed that evening. People were scattered across the couches and the empty corners, practically shouting to their friends over the blasting noise coming from all directions.

Mellow music was playing, curtesy of Lee who had stolen the record from McGonagall’s office that afternoon. Groups of friends laughed and cheered as more and more members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team piled in, each looking as pleased about the win as the rest of the House.

“Oi, Y/N, get your arse over here,” Lee shouted at you from the corner of the room. You groaned, walking over and raising an eyebrow. You loved Lee, but you were currently searching the room for any signs of Harry.

“Yeah?” you asked, not focusing on him.

Lee seemed to notice your distracted state, “Am I not interesting enough for you?” There was no hint of offence in his voice — he seemed intrigued by what you were focused on.

“Huh?” you turned your attention back to him, blinking rapidly to clear your mind, “No, sorry, I’m paying attention.”

He cocked his eyebrow, “Sure. You’re looking for Harry, aren’t you?”

Your eyes shot open and you were nearly certain your face was now completely drained of colour, “Bloody hell, how do you know about that?”

“Fred and George, of course,” he shrugged as if it was no big deal, “Those lads tell me everything.”

“Oh, I am going to jinx them into next year,” you grit your teeth, anger overpowering the embarrassment you were feeling, “They had no right—,”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better,” Lee cut you off with a chuckle, “They only told me so I could help set you up with him.”

You gaped at him, suddenly rendered speechless, “They — you — what?”

He placed his hand on your shoulder before pointing to where Harry was standing in the corner talking to Ron, “They wanted to set you two up.”

You turned away from Harry and faced Lee with wide eyes. You couldn’t believe that after all their teasing about your crush on Harry and the fact that he was both famous and younger than you, they still tried to set you up with him. And they had even gotten Lee involved. You weren’t sure if you were flattered or pissed off.

“Well, their plan hasn’t worked, has it?” you muttered quietly, “Pretty sure Harry just sees me as Y/N Weasley. His best friend’s older sister.”

Lee shook his head, “Do you not see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, turning your head back in Harry’s direction. You immediately locked eyes before he turned away quickly, cheeks becoming tinted light pink.

“Point proven,” Lee smirked, crossing his arms and leaning up against the wall behind him, “Oh, here they come.”

You were about to ask who he was talking about, but your question was answered when Fred and George appeared at your side, holding a box of products that they were bound to test out on unsuspecting students.

You grinned to yourself, already excited to see if the products would go as planned. The three of you wanted to open a joke shop after graduating. However, you felt yourself too occupied by Harry’s presence to want to be involved with their shenanigans tonight.

“So, dearest sister,” Fred winked at you, “Charming young Harry is sitting there waiting for you, why don’t you go join him?” He nudged you in the ribs, causing you to glare at him.

“Sod off, would you?” you groaned, nudging him right back, a lot more forcefully. The last thing you wanted was Harry to overhear. Sure, it was loud in the common room and you could barely hear Fred who was right next to you, but maybe he’d hear. You could never be too safe.

“Y/N,” George placed his hands on both your shoulders, turning you to face him, “Go speak to him. We’ve been watching you pine for the lad nearly two years now. It won’t do you any good to sit back and let him be. Just go chat with him, yeah?”

You thought over his words, hating the fact that he was right. You wanted to leave Hogwarts with no regrets, ready to live your life to the complete fullest. You wouldn’t be able to do that if you regretted never speaking to Harry when given the chance.

On one hand, if Harry felt the same, you’d get to spend your last month here with him. On the other hand, if he didn’t feel the same, you’d only have a month left before you’d only get to see him on the rare occasion.

The pro’s outweighed the con’s, really.

“Fine,” you gave in, ignoring how the two boys grinned knowingly, shooting each other a thumbs up. You glanced back in the direction that Harry had been previously standing, only to notice that Ron and Hermione were the only ones there.

You walked over, collecting your nerves, and tapped your other brother on the shoulder, “Ron, where’d Harry go?”

Ron shot you a quizzical look before pointing right behind you, “He’s right there.”

You spun around on the spot, heart caught in your throat as you stared into Harry’s eyes. He was awkwardly smiling at you, fidgeting his feet and looking between you and Ron.

“Hey, Y/N,” Harry nodded, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. You thought he looked nervous, but you couldn’t figure out why he would be. If anything, you should be the one nervously looking down at your feet, not him.

The only reason you weren’t feeling overwhelmed was because of what Lee has just told you. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance Harry was attracted to you as well.

“Hiya, Harry,” you grinned, pushing your hopeful thoughts out of your mind, “Having a good time?”

You flushed at your embarrassing question, but he seemed to slip right past it, “Yeah, I am. I hope you are too.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” you nodded, pursing your lips. The tension was unbearable. You could practically feel Ron and Hermione cringing behind you, and if you weren’t staring dead on at Harry, you’d probably be cringing too.

“Do you uh, want to go somewhere more quiet?” Harry asked, his eyes darting back and forth between your eyes and his own feet.

Without thinking, you quickly replied, “Yes.”

He seemed taken aback by your speedy reply, but he brushed it off and nodded his head up the stairs, starting to walk up. You followed suit, still ignoring the grins that Lee and your triplet brothers were shooting your way.

Once you two reached the opening at the top of the stairs, where it was still loud but reasonably easier to hear properly, he took a seat and motioned for you to do the same.

Under the light of the window, Harry’s eyes had never looked so blue and it was taking your breath away.

You sat next to him, eyes practically glued to him, and smiled nervously, “So...” you trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“I actually want to talk to you about something,” he sighed, looking at you so intently you swore he could probably see into your soul, “I uh, have heard that you may or may not take a fancy to me.”

You had never wished to be dead more than when he said those words. Had your two idiot brothers spilled to Harry how you felt about him? Had they told Ron — who couldn’t keep a secret for life of him — that you had a crush on his best friend? You didn’t think you were that obvious. How could he know?

You ducked your face, hiding the growing blush, and cursed everyone you knew. The pounding in your chest picked up exponentially, uneasiness settling through your whole body.

“Uh — I’m sorry,” you said the only thing you could think of, wanting to smack yourself over the forehead.

Harry’s eyes widened, “No, don’t be sorry. I only brought it up because I—,” he stopped to take a deep breath, closing his eyes, “I actually fancy you too.”

Your heart suddenly stopped completely. Was Lee right? Had Harry actually felt this way about you the whole time?

“You — you do?” you asked, clearly starstuck. You didn’t know what to say. What did people usually say when their crush told them they liked them too?

“Yeah,” he chuckled nervously, running his hand through his hair and shaking it slightly, “I couldn’t find the right time to tell you and I thought I might as well just do it.”

It was as if your entire body had gone numb. It made no sense, but at the same time, you didn’t want to overthink it. He liked you back, and that was the best news you could have received. Despite winning the Quidditch cup, this here was the best feeling.

“I’m glad you did,” you grinned, your voice coming off shaky as the nerves continued rambling through your body, “I probably wouldn’t have said anything, to be honest.”

He chuckled, “So, uh, do you want to go to Hogsmeade together next weekend?”

You nodded before you could even properly process his words, “I’d love to.”

If it was any quieter, you could have sworn you heard George’s forced whisper from down the stairs saying, “We’re the best matchmakers.”

Grinning like an idiot, you rested your head against the wall and continued to gaze adoringly at Harry, who you were now going on a date with next weekend.

There could be no better feeling.

[renohasbigtits]

Mpreg Ignis (FF15 Mpreg Headcanons)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: Contains Mpreg (Male Pregnancy. Don’t like? Don’t read!)

(Side note: this takes place in the alternative Ending of Episode Ignis, 2 years after Noctis goes into the crystal. I know it’s ironic that I’m using a blind Ignis Gif but I thought it looked cute. Shut up!)

• This Man is very observant.

• he’ll noticed changes right away towards his body.

•like when he gets suddenly sick to certain smells, gaining some weight, even tho he works out regularly.

• however, it isn’t until he goes to the doctor, he is giving some news; he is Pregnant!

• at first, Ignis wanted the doctor to repeat themselves, thinking he heard them incorrectly but the doctor just smiled while replying with a “Congrats!”

• he usually isn’t lost for words but this was one of the few times.

• he tries to contact the person who he suspects is the baby’s other parent, but to no avail.

• he isn’t sure what to do at first. He wasn’t sure if he was ready since he has to prepare for Noctis’s return.

• but for awhile, he keeps it a secret. For now.

• around the estimated 5 week mark: he starts having morning sickness, and him still having terrible reactions to the smell of food, didn’t help much.

• he starts getting frustrated with the baby’s other parent, he really wanted to talk to them to figure out a plan for their unborn child but they never answered.

• Iggy’s “partner” was a serious hunter. They usually go on long missions. And by long? They mean MONTHS! But They still made time to call Ignis.

• He realized that he’s on his own for now.

• he now obviously, can’t hunt huge Daemons anymore, for his own personal and his unborn baby’s safety.

• he heads towards the doctor as much as he can, to check up on the baby. One time he hears the baby’s heart beat. He immediately falls in love hearing his future child’s heart beating.

• Now he wants to keep the baby. With or without his “partner”.

•around the estimated 6-7 week mark, he hears horrible news.

•his “partner” died in the middle of a touch battle with Daemons. Which is why he’s been unable to contact his “partner”. Ignis is devastated.

•He knows that he has to rise this baby. For his “partner”.

• some time around the 10 week mark; he notices that he’s growing a bump in his stomach. He couldn’t more happy knowing that his baby was growing.

• by this time, he’s already told the people close to him that he was expecting, everyone has had a very positive reaction and congratulate Iggy.

• When Prompto returns to Lestallum, Ignis tells him that he’s Pregnant. Prompto, either shocked or excited, probably both, passed out (rip lol)

• he promised Iggy’s that he would help me however he could. Ignis appreciate it.

• Prompto starts taking pictures of Ignis and his baby bump. True photographer at heart ❤️ 

• around the 11-12 week mark; Ignis asks Monica to help him, which she gladly accepts. She does the heavy stuff, since that is dangerous for Ignis, who is getting bigger.

• of course, Ignis has experienced cravings but tries his best to control his diet, as he often does. (tho if you ask me, he probably gave in but won’t admit it lmao)

• When Gladiolus arrives to see Ignis (already hearing the news that his friend, is Pregnant) Gladio had to look a few times to make sure he was seeing it correctly. his friends baby bump, much Ignis’s embarrassment.

• but other than that, he is really supportive and promises to help Ignis. (Let’s skip a little shall we? xDDDD)

• around the 20-21 week mark; Ignis felt his baby kick for the first time, tho a little uncomfortable, he already feels like he’s close to his baby.

•By this time, Ignis no longer hunts, not just because he’s getting bigger, but because he was tired.

• Ignis was getting more tired, not moving as much since when he did it felt d r a i n i n g.

• on the bright side, he wasn’t getting sick as much.

• Gladio and Prompto helped bring in some gil (Praise these boys)

•around the 28-30 mark, Ignis was getting more excited about his baby’s arrival. (sorry that was short lol)

• lris bought many cute baby clothes and even helped decorate the baby’s room. Tho it was small, it was beautiful.

•Oddly, Ignis didn’t want to know the gender til after it was born. He wanted to be “surprised” as he puts it. 𝘚𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 -_-

•Ignis also has become more motherly around  Talcott and other kid’s for that matter. (at this point he doesn’t give a f u c k about the mom comments anymore)

• Bitch he’s a MOTHER! NO DRAMA! 🤏🙄

• One thing everyone around Ignis can agree on is that; Ignis has become more Moody. Not much in rudeness (I mean have you met Ignis?) Just irritability.

•around the 35 week mark; Prompto managed to convince Ignis to do a maternity shoot (ooooo)

• tho Ignis pretended to be irritated, he actually was enjoying it. The pictures turned out adorable. Ignis privately asked Prompto for  physical copies for the pics.

• 37 mark; 9 Months Pregnant. He was almost there! Of course, he can’t physically give birth, at 39 weeks, there going to be a planned c-section.

• when asked if there was any baby names, Ignis replied, “My lips are sealed.” ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 👁 👄 👁

• 38 weeks (yeah I’ve pretty much gave up at this point); Ignis felt some minor pain. Eh he’s felt worse (literally!) but as time goes on, the pain worsen. it got to the point where Ignis started taking deep breath’s.

•A week early, Ignis was in labor!!! (weeeeeeee wwoooooooooooo 🚑)

• Monica, seeing Ignis bend over for support knew it was time. Rushed him immediately to the hospital.

• several hours later (am I annoying you guys get with my puns yet?)

• A baby girl was born! (You change it if you want to but I really want it to be a girl 🥺 👉👈)

•The baby didn’t really look like Ignis, she looked a lot like her other parent who, sadly she’ll never meet.

•holding her for the first time, Ignis teared up, holding his little angel in his arms.

• “it’s you and me against the world.” Ignis whispered in his daughters ears.

• A week later, Ignis finally got to take his daughter home.

• Boy, people really fell in love with her.

•cid was basically a great-grandfather xD

•Prompto...Aww prompto was basically cooing her. Taking as much pics of her. (BEST.UNCLE.EVER)

• 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰

• (and you bet he’s gonna bring the baby every time he’s going to see Cindy wink wink)

•Gladio, jokingly replied that they now have “another Ignis around.” While lris happy that it was girl. (she needs friends but so do I)

•About that Comment Gladio made, he honestly wasn’t far from the truth.

• As she got older, she was quiet and reserved but extremely clingy to Ignis.

• As he looked at her, Ignis couldn’t help but feel like he was looking at his former partner all over again. He truly misses them.

• Oddly Ravus really grew to love the child and The child grew to love him. She constantly asking Ignis “When’s Uncle Ravus coming?”

•Ravus became more playful and Calm. Maybe she reminds him of Luna.

• ........

•........

•.......

• Year’s Later, When Noctis came back and brought back the light, and survived, Ignis knew he had to get them to meet.

• When Noctis met his 8-year old Niece, he teared up. He felt so guilty for missing out on so much of her life.

• Ignis, now working full-time at the Citadel, has to take his daughter to work with him, by Noctis request, so he could spend some time with her.

•Ignis felt a like proud Mother.

(Sorry that it got cheesy at the end, I was having too much fun 😅 I hope you guys like it! I’m suprised that there isn’t really any Mpreg Ignis. Maybe because he’s hard to write? Idk. But hey! If you want something done right you Gotta do it yourself!)

Also please be nice about it in the comments this is my first Mpreg headcanon 🥺👉👈 (constructive feedback is welcome obviously)

[oneirataxxiaa]

Give Us A Little Love

Request from Anon : Oof i pressed ask before i could end it. Here we go again:"Do you trust me?" "Always" "Look,a shooting star! Make a wish." "Take my hand." "Are you...blushing?" with YJ Kaldur.

Im so sorry for the wait Anon, I had some things I had to deal with. Made it long for you to make up for it! I’ve been listening to the song ‘ Give Us A Little Love ‘ by Fallulah so I kinda based the Y/N off that? used this as bit of a vent piece, Idk. Missed a prompt cause i couldn’t fit it in. Enjoy! *opens writing angst playlist*

warnings: serious angst. mentions of suicide, swearing, neglect, trust issues?

“Give us a little love, give us a little love . We never had enough, we never had enough”

***

Trouble seemed to follow her everywhere she went.

Never able to settle down, each time she felt as though she had found herself a forever home, Y/n L/n experienced something that would send her foster parents running to send her away. The daughter of an unnamed member of the League of Assassins and a civilian, the child who dealt with horrors no one should have to witness at an age such as that, Y/n learned early on to trust no one, do what's best for herself to stay alive another day.

Y/n was raised by her mother's guild until she was old enough to fight, being subjected to the terrors dealt by the League of Assassins, her childhood was disrupted. She developed little social skills beyond basic polite greetings and formal conversations. She understood the human body, not for science exams, but to know what the fastest way to kill a person was. She could fight her way out of any battle, but place her in a social situation and she would shut down. Unable to think for herself.

Y/n was fourteen when she was put into foster care, after Talia Al Gaul became pregnant with a son and there was a new heir to the league. Tossed away like a bag of trash, her mother didn't stand up for her, and her father wouldn't care for her. Pushed into the system and forgotten.

"What happened now?" Mrs Davis asked her husband. She looked tired, resting her head on her hand, her eyes half closed. Her husband of ten years shook his head.

"She punched someone, one of the upperclassmen bumped into her and she reacted by sending them across the hallway" the man was in his early forties, tired from work and stressed from the current situation.

"God, what are we going to do with her Luke? We can't home-school her, and she refuses to see a therapist! we've tried punishing her, rewarding good behaviour, doing nothing! I don't know what to do anymore" the woman sounded desperate. Her and her husband thought a good idea would be to take in a seventeen year old trouble child through fostering. Over the three months they had her, nothing quelled her radical behaviour.

Luke Davies sighed. Exhaling and rubbing a hand over his eyes with frustration. "There's nothing we can do" he paused, hating the idea that crossed his mind. "we'll have to put her back into the system. Our health and life is important as well, so, we have to take care of that" his wife nodded, looking down at her hands, tears of guilt pricking in the corners of her brown eyes, becoming heavy.

"I'll call Ruth in the morning then".

Beyond the kitchen, Y/n sat with her back against the wall, a scowl on her face as tears threatened to spill. 'emotions betray us, control them' her mothers voice rang in her ears, a memory of toddlers and nightmares and staying awake hoping and praying the monsters from the green pool wouldn't come for her. Y/n sniffed, her tears drying as she willed them to do. The teen hiked her bag further up her shoulder and took a breath, walking past the entrance to the kitchen and out the front door, ignoring the yells of her foster parents, Y/n started into a run, disappearing into the streets as dusk set in.

She didn't know when she ended up a the waters edge, but it was plenty after dark. The sun long gone and her foster parents left far behind. Y/n walked along the boardwalk, feet kicking at pebbles on the ground, sending them skipping across the concrete. Giving herself an idea, she picked up the pebbles as she walked, placing each small stone into the pocket of her jacket until she had quite the collection growing there. Further down the coast she could see a peir, stretching out over the water. That was her destination.

Voices were heard to her left, making the girl turn to see a couple whispering to each other, on dragging the other - who was laughing - towards the closed fairground further down. Y/n frowned at the freedom the two seemed to think they had, too distracted by each other to care about consequences of their actions. That was dangerous, a thrill that many couples took the chance on as far as she knew. As far as she knew, having no experience in that department anyway. The couple vanished from sight and their laughter faded into the night like a memory. 

The concrete ground turned to wood, and the crunching of stones turned to occasional creaks and groans from the old wooden plants supporting the jetty. Y/n walked the length of it, reaching the end and standing still. The girl enjoyed the smell of sea salt, the crashing ambience of the waves and calls of birds gliding over the water. The moonlight seemed only to amplify the wild beauty of the ocean, making her want to stay there forever. Y/n picked a stone from her pocket, flicking it out with her wrist, it didn't even skip. Simply crashing into the water with a dissatisfying plop. The teen tried again, angling it further down and still failing to achieve the skip she wanted.

"you should bend your whole body, it helps get the right angle" Y/n jumped back, pulling a pocket knife from her jeans and flicking the blade out. Her eyes were narrowed at the person who snuck up on her out of nowhere. "its alright, I'm not planning on hurting you" raising his hands in a calming motion. Y/n didn't move. "if I was planning to, I would have done it when you didn't know I was here don't you think?" he reasoned, motioning for her to put down the weapon. A minute passed of the boy eyeing the weapon, then looking her up and down. Any movement either made sent the other into a split second panic. Seconds ticked by, and slowly, Y/n lowered the knife, tucking it back into her pocket. The boy let out a breath and walked a little closer. Now that he was out of the shadow of the buildings on the shore, Y/n could see his features clearly. A strange suit with two handles strapped on his back. Dark skin, glossy from the salt water, blonde hair in a close shaved buzz-cut, and pale turquoise eyes that looked darker in the night air.

"can i ask what you're doing out here on your own, throwing rocks into the water?" he walks closer, eventually standing beside her.

"you may not ask" she replies, taking another rock in her hand, pausing and considering the boys first words to her. Y/n bent sideways at the waist, bending her knees and swinging her arm, being sure to flick her wrist. With the added momentum and angle, the rock bounced three times of the surface of the water before sinking on the forth landing and vanishing under the waves. Content with the one victory, Y/n dug out the rest of the rocks in her pocket, holding out her full hand and dropping them into the water with a series of splashes. She watched the fall.

"A waste of rocks if you ask me" The boy said, now leaning against one of the support poles.

"I didn't"

"didn't what?"

"ask you, I didn't ask you" Y/n clarified, sitting down on the wood, watching the waves like a mesmerising swirl of hypnotising spirals, pulling her deeper in. It felt dark in her mind, dark and scary. She felt her own emotions smothering her, suffocating her and clawing to get out.

A tear fell.

Almost instantly, the boy was by her side, sitting on the wood beside her, legs hanging over the edge in the cold water. He didn't say anything, but every action he made clarified the idea that he would listen.

Y/n opened her mouth, throwing words into the wind, venting frustration, anger and confusion, her words a spiral of fear and unfamiliarity. She felt afraid, afraid she would get a proper family. It was her fault, her behaviour and actions drove these kind people away. But she could help it, couldn't stop herself from doing things that made foster parents scared to have her around them. She couldn’t control herself some times, lashing out in fear and anger to those around her. People were scared of her, avoiding her in the hallways, refusing to work with her for projects. It hurt, to be isolated, but she knew it was her fault. She closed her mouth, halting her words and looking down at the water, tears falling freely now, though there were few. She didn’t know why she was speaking to him, telling him everything that had happened. She didn’t want to 

“you’re allowed to react how you have been, nobody should expect you to stay quiet through everything that happened” The boy said, crossing his legs underneath himself. Y/n stayed silent, looking out at the water. “do you feel better? letting everything out?” 

She nodded, raising to her feet, Y/n kicked her foot against the ground, frowning.

“Uh- thank you-”

“Kaldur” he said.

“Thank you Kaldur” she nodded, sticking her hands in her pockets and turning on her heel to head back towards the Davis’ house. Leaving the strange boy behind her.

***

It shouldn’t have surprised her that her foster parents had called to return her. She found herself sitting in the police station, being picked up by a cop car when the Davis’ reported her as a runaway. Sitting with her head rolled back on the chair, her legs kicked out in front of her and her hands behind her head, Her mind was slow, running over scenarios in her head of what would happen to her. Would she be thrown back into the system? Would they put her out on her own? She would be eighteen in a month. Would they just throw her out on her own, to deal with what lay ahead with nowhere to turn?

 Y/n looked conflicted, alone and confused. Which is what interested one of the training detectives. He was young, around eighteen or nineteen, but his connections helped jump start his dream career.

“What are you in for?” He asked. Y/n looked up. This one had dark hair and blue eyes with a spark in them that made her wonder what was going on in his head. He looked like he was planning something, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out exactly what it was going on in his head.

“Running away apparently” she shrugged, sitting up and crossing one leg over the other in a more comfortable position. Dick frowned, sitting himself in the chair across from her and leaning his arms on his knees. He didn’t wear a uniform like most of the officers in the station, having on a blue shirt, black cotton jacket and jeans. He looked almost casual, at home in the station among officers much older them himself. But something told Y/n he was smarter then he looked.

“Why’d you run away?”

“Why should I tell you?” Suspicion rose on her voice. Dick sighed and shrugged his shoulders. 

“I’ve done the same stuff, when I first moved in with my adopted dad I ran away three times in the first week” that made Y/n laugh a little, shaking her head with amusement. 

“In one week?”

“yep, was probably my best achievement at that point in my life” he grinned, “I was thirteen as well”

“Good on you” the girl nodded, picking at the corner of her shirt, pulling a thread out and watching the fabric bunch up.

“Yeah, then I settled into the house, and well, thats that I guess”. He trailed off, making Y/n frown and look down.

“Its not that easy” 

“Its not, not when you don’t try” He looked like he was trying to help, but he was just pushing her further out of her comfort zone.

“I did try!” Y/n exclaimed. “I tried so hard to be a good kid, I can’t help it . . .” her outburst faded quickly and Dick got to his feet. 

“I’m going to make a quick call, i’ll be back, I promise” his smile was infectious, and Y/n returned it, looking at the floor again as she ran a hand over her face and then rested her arms on her knees, an uncomfortable position, but she didn’t seem to care about it in the moment. Time passed, and Y/n seemed to be ignored by officers who walked past. The occasional person would send a smile her way but ultimately, she felt like she was on an island, in the middle of the sea of people who were judging her for being there.

“Alright, you’re all set!” Dick appeared out of nowhere, phone and keys in hand. His sudden appearance made Y/n start in surprise, looking at him with wide eyes for a second before calming down and settling again.

“What?” Y/n asked, confused, getting to her feet and following the boy as he gestured for her to follow him. They walked from the office, out into the hallway and towards the lobby room, filled with various civilians and criminals being brought in for holding.

“I, being myself, made a call to my dad, we’ve got this big house in Gotham City, and there’s heaps of room for someone to stay, even with Tim living there and Barbara dropping in from time to time” Y/n didn’t recognise any of the names he dropped, but things were starting to click in her mind. “I’m Dick Grayson by the way” and that was when it all came together in her mind. 

“You’re Bruce Wayne's son!” The girl stopped walking, eyes wide in surprise. She wasn’t sure how she didn’t see it before, the man looked just like the pictures of Bruce and his kids that she had seen on the news online. He was usually pictured with Bruce, and a shorter boy with dark hair. Seeing her reaction to it, Dick took a breath and rolled his eyes. As if he had to deal with such reactions on the daily - which was probably the actual case.

“Yep, now come on, or do you want to stay here moping all day?” the boy grinned and walked out of the building. Y/n looked back at the officers, milling around the station, nothing interesting catching her eyes. Taking a breath and holding it for a moment, Y/n followed him out the door as she let said breath out. 

The car park was fairly empty, considering how early in the morning it was, and that most people had just walked there to avoid traffic considering the station was central in the city of Bludhaven. Dick lead her towards a car parked on the far side. Y/n wasn’t an expert on cars, but she could tell that this was expensive - far more then she could afford - and certainly in the price range of a billionaires son.

“Can I ask where we are going?” Y/n questioned when he opened the door for her. He nodded, closing the door behind her and walking around to the drivers side of the vehicle. Closing his own door and pushing the keys into the ignition, he replied.

“I called Bruce, as I said, he’s finalising some paperwork to foster you - so we are heading to the manor in Gotham! Not too long of a drive”. Y/n stared at the dashboard in front of her with wide eyes, processing what was happening. A few hours before, she was sobbing and venting everything to some random boy on the pier, and now she was moving in with a billionaire. It was a startling change, the suddenness of it started crashing down on her. “Do you have anything you want to pick up from your old place?” Dick asked, turning the wheel to get them out onto the road, following the signs towards Gotham City.

“No” was her simple reply, tucking up her legs, Y/n positioned herself to look out the window, watching the city flash by, a swirl of bright lights and dark corners and alleys. 

***

“Are you sure you’re ready to work with everyone?” Dick asked, tapping on the zeta panel, his stance was casual enough, but his eyes kept glancing towards Y/n checking up on her to make sure she was alright. Something he’d been doing since she’d moved into Wayne manor all those months ago. Y/n herself however felt nervousness curling in the base of her stomach, clutching at her chest and making her feel a little sick. Not like she was going to throw up, but it certainly wasn’t helping to steady her nerves. The girl looked towards him when he spoke, shaking her head.

“I’ll be fine Dick, I already know most of the Team anyways, i’ve known Kaldur longer then i’ve known you” Dick shook his head with a small laugh leaving his lips. A beep emitted from the panel, and their location was locked in.

“Alright, first official team mission here we come then!”

“what are you going on about, you’ve been on missions before”

“that’s not what I- you know what, no, i’m not letting you have this win” he grinned, securing his mask and walking up to the platform, Y/n following him.

“sore loser?” she asked, matching his grin and standing beside her adopted brother.

“says you” was his quick reply before they were swallowed by the bright yellow light of the zeta tube. It was always strange to travel this way, stretched across a far distance only to be snapped back into place where they had set their destination. This mixed with the feeling of unease that already settled within her system made her clutch her stomach as they reappeared in the zeta entrance to the cave the mission room sprawling out in front of them, various heroes spread out, chatting amongst themselves as if there wasn’t a serious mission about to occur. Heads raised when her and her brothers names were announced by the computer, most turned back to their conversations, but one stayed up, looking towards them, and eventually walking in their direction. Y/n heard him before she saw him.

“Nightwing said you’d be joining us” Kaldur smiled as a greeting, “Are you alright? you look like you’re going to be sick” the smile turned to a neutral expression of concern, something that seemed to appear a lot when Y/n was around. He always had an eye out on her, to make sure she was alright, make sure she was feeling her best. Y/n smiled softly.

“I’m fine, just a lot of people that I haven’t met” she replied. When Y/n first encountered the Team, she had just started vigilante work with Nightwing, and was only  introduced to Artemis, Wally and Zatanna, and reintroduced to Kaldur. It was awkward for a few weeks before the two fell into a comfortable friendship. Still confiding in each other with troubles and fears, but their relationship with each other was more stable then the random meetups on the pier. They became close, usually found together when they both had free time. Y/n could confidently say that he was one of her closest friends, alongside Nightwing and Zatanna. 

His expression changed, from concern to understanding, the smile returning. 

“you’ll be alright, its not a big mission, just some surveillance” his words helped her a little, the nerves calming down. He rested a hand on her shoulder as perhaps some kind of reassuring act, but it sent a strange feeling through her mind. 

“yeah, alright” she swallowed, looking forwards, and hoping beyond hope that the burning feeling rising to her cheeks and ears was covered by her domino mask. Unfortunately, luck didn’t seem to be on her side at that moment.

“Y/n, are you . . . blushing?” Kaldur asked, drawing her attention back to him, instead of hyper fixating on making the blush fade.

“No” she replied, glad that her training with Nightwing and Batman left her with a good control over her voice and expressions - the blush was something she had little to no control over unfortunately. She continued however, the question throwing her into a defensive reply. “Its not your business anyways”. That made her cringe at her own words and guilt crawled in her. Kaldur seemed to let out a breath, dropping his hand from her shoulders and stepping back a little.Y/n frowned at the movement. Had she offended him? Was what she said - lying - wrong? Y/n looked at the ground, fiddling now with the corner of her suits belt, her hands moving with nervous energy. Nightwing announced the mission details, explaining what each squad would be doing. He would be keeping an eye on everything from the cave, but Y/n herself was on a lookout team with Kaldur and Zatanna. Once the group split up into the teams and started heading out, Zatanna approached Y/n, smiling.

“Where’s Kaldur? I assumed he’d be with you” she looked confused, around as if Kaldur would be hiding.

“I’m not sure, he left a little while ago” Y/n turned, and Kaldur was indeed gone from where he had been standing. Zatanna lit up when she spotted him by the Zeta Tube. 

“There he is, come on Y/h/n” Zatanna walked towards him, the other female following quickly behind. They were silent when travelling to their location. Even Zatanna seemed to see there was some sort of strange tension between the two heroes, though not sure where it had sprouted from. As far as Zatanna understood, the two were close friends. After arriving at the location, Kaldur spoke to Zatanna quietly for a moment, the girl nodded and Kaldur walked towards Y/n, holding his hand out. 

“take my hand, please?” he asked, making Y/n frown as she couldn’t decern the tone of voice he was using. So, she took his hand and he pulled her off to the side, out of the earshot of Zatanna, who took over the job of keeping an eye out for what they were looking for.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, sitting her down on the ground and sitting across from her.

“Always” Y/n replied, quicker then she would have liked. Kaldur nodded.

“Then why don’t you tell me whats wrong? You’ve been cold lately, colder then usual, and I want to make sure you are alright, and if there is anything that I can do to help you” Y/n looked down, scratching her arm nervously. She mustn’t have been as subtle as she would have liked then. Kaldur sat up a little straighter. “I don’t mind you taking your time, but I would like to know if I can help you in any way”

“I like you” she replied. Cringing at her bluntness. He was definitely sitting up straighter now. “And I don’t know how to deal with it - and i’m sorry if I've been rude to you, or anything like that” she paused. “I’m just not sure what to do, and I don’t think i’m ready for anything serious, but i’d like to see where it goes and-” Y/n paused to take a breath. Thats when Kaldur interjected.

“Y/n, slow down a little bit please, you don’t need to explain anything to me” he smiled. 

“I’m sorry”

“don’t be, you don’t need to apologise for experiencing hardships, you take your time and take steps at your own pace, and i’ll be right there beside you when you need me” He got to his feet, offering his hand to help her up.

“Sorry- uh, thank you Kaldur” she smiled, and he returned the expression.

“If you guys are done? We’ve got some movement down there” Zatanna called to them from where she was set, watching over the empty cortyard.

“We should probably get back to work” Y/n laughed nervously.

“Probably” Kaldur replied, the two walking towards Zatanna. 

Some relationships aren’t sudden. They require communication between both parties, settling on what best fits them. And Y/n? She just needed time. So Kaldur would wait until she was ready.

***

THIS TOOK 10000 YEARS . HERE YOU GO

onto DCACB chapter 3

requests are open! tag list : @silverdecepticon93 @izzieg3987​   @starr60​

[psycho-slytherin]

Strangers ch. 44

You begin moving on, but Yoongi is stuck.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Genre: fluff, angst, idk

Warnings: Strong language, I think that’s it?

|mlist|

<–– Prev  Next ––>

“Idiot. What were you thinking?”

“Oh, come on. Look, it all worked out, right?”

“This wasn’t part of the plan! Now everyone knows who you are!”

“They were gonna find out anyways. I just used it to my advantage.”

“Don’t you realize how careful we have to be?”

“You. I’m safe.”

“Have you forgotten our goal? We need to destroy her.”

“Yeah, but that was so he’d be safe. Haven’t we already won?”

“Not yet. But we will.”

~~~

“C’mon, D. I know you’ve got something for me.”

“Look, man-” D huffs in frustration. “I’m sorry, but ain’t the girl you’re trying to track down dead? It’s been a good month.”

“She’s alive.” Unless the photo is old, or doctored.

“Her phone hasn’t been on in any sorta way since the day she texted your girl. I’m tryin’ to locate her but I’m hitting a lotta dead ends.”

Yoongi bites his lip anxiously. Lisa is the only hold Seoyeon has over him– and the only proof he has that she’s a criminal. If he can find Lisa, Seoyeon won’t have any more leverage and Yoongi will be able to turn her over to the police. He’ll explain everything to Y/n, and finally be set free.

But he can’t do any of that until he has Lisa. 

“Yo, Gloss, hit me with that image description again?” D says over the phone. Yoongi can hear a mouse click several times as he closes his eyes, focusing on the photo in his memory. If only Seoyeon had sent it to him instead of just showing him, it might be easier.

“The walls were white. She was barefoot– her hair was short. Her hands and feet were tied.”

“What sort of knot?”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, thinking hard. “I- I can’t remember. It looked tight, the rope was pressing into her wrists.”

“That’s an oof. Did she look skinny, like she hadn’t been eating?”

“I don’t know, I can’t compare. I never met her in person, I only saw Y/n’s pictures of her.” Yoongi clenches his fist, frustrated that he’s so useless.

“Hey, hey, chill, man. We’ll find her. Now, what color were her hands?”

“Her hands? Uh… skin-colored?”

“Huh.” D pauses– Yoongi’s barely used to hearing his friend not talk.

“What?”

“I mean, you said the knots were tight. You’d think it would cut off her circulation.”

“Fuck, dude, I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t looking. How is this going to help us find her?”

“I mean, I can already tell you that she’s probably not at Seoyeon’s place. There’s no way this chick can keep Lisa at her house without her family finding out, that shit’s just one story.”

“You’re kidding, she lives with her family?”

“Bruh. If she was stalking you enough to get away with what she’s done, do you really think she’d be able to keep a good enough job to afford that place? Nah, man, she lives with her folks and a sister.”

“We don’t know that she was stalking me.” 

“How else did she find Y/n outside of the hospital, then? You tell me.” 

Yoongi falls silent. He doesn’t want to dwell on the possibility that he so directly put Y/n into danger– it’s too destructive a thought. “Whatever. D, I really need you on this. The authorities have been useless.”

D sniggers. “Ain’t that the truth. Look, I’ve got an alert on her number and socials. If she so much as turns her phone on, or tries posting from another device, I’ll know.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

“Yeah, whatever, you owe me a collab.”

Yoongi grins. “Deal.” After hanging up, he sighs, leaning back in his chair. He’s been spending as much time as he can this week in his studio. Even the other members and their antics can’t lift his spirits, not when he has to answer Seoyeon’s constant summons for yet another photo op. And while he’s got her hanging onto his arm, Yoongi can think of nothing other than Y/n. 

He remembers how angry he was when he found out that you’d been an ARMY all along. It seems like ages ago, and yet the sense of betrayal is fresh in his mind. He can only imagine how you’re feeling now… 

~~~

“Miss L/n?”

You stand, taking the well-dressed man’s offered hand. “That’s me, hi.”

“Nice to meet you, you can call me Mr. Park. So, Avery Lee messaged me saying you’re looking to join our agency?”

You nod, fidgeting with the sleeve of your heavy coat. “Yes, until recently– well, I guess you could say I had a freelance manager. I can’t work with her anymore, and Avery said I should sign with an agency.”

“She’s right. Rising stars like you need guidance. So,” Mr. Park says, settling back into his plush leather chair and staring at you from across his desk. “Tell me about yourself. What makes you valuable to FYP Entertainment?”

You swallow. “I’m a third-year acting major at Seoul Arts University. I’ve been an active member of the theatre club and improv club, and competed in Central Seoul’s Improv Showdown twice. I was a featured extra in BTS’s Possible music video. I’ve modeled in Premier Bride Korea and for Beauty of the Seoul’s lipstick line. I recently appeared in a cologne commercial for Fierce, and I was an extra in Medicine of the Heart, a medical drama. Most notably, I play Kim Ji-Woo, a recurring character, alongside BTS’s Suga in Moon Over the Sea.”

Mr. Park rubs his chin. “That’s a long list for a pretty actress who’s never belonged to an agency. And I see an overlap– how familiar are you with Bangtan’s members?”

You fight the urge to laugh; has he not seen the tabloids? “Quite- quite familiar. We’re friends.”

“Just friends?” Mr. Park leans back. “I’ll be honest, Miss L/n, right now the only reason anyone knows your name is as Suga’s ex-girlfriend. Taking you on would be a gamble, and one I’m not sure would pay off for us. I need to know that you’re more than just a scandal– that you’ve got real talent.”

You inhale sharply, but instead of the overwhelming nervousness you were expecting, you feel only determination. They can’t hurt you anymore. “I’m talented. I’m experienced. And I’ll put in the work, sir– I always do. My relationship with Yoongi had no influence over either of my related jobs; I was scouted for the Possible video at a cafe, and Kim Seokjin was the original casting choice for Moon Over the Sea. I can’t deny that knowing Yoongi has helped my popularity, but I got my work, all of it, on my own. Sir.”

Mr. Park stares at you for a long while. “How are your grades?”

You blink. “Sorry?”

“You said you’re a student. How have you been doing in classes? I mean, all this work must keep you from school.”

“Fine,” you say hurriedly. “I, uh, haven’t let it interfere with my degree. I’m very efficient at multitasking.” A little white lie can’t hurt. You’re leaving to film in two days, you’ll check in with your professors tomorrow to make sure you’re good to go.

“That’s very admirable,” Mr. Park says. “And reassuring to hear. We like knowing our clients have the qualifications to continue in the workforce after retiring from entertainment.”

You nod, suddenly shivering at a chill you know isn’t real. 

“Well, I’ve received a glowing recommendation from Avery Lee, who’s worked with us for years. You certainly have more experience than many of our new stars. And a connection, even one like yours, with a group as big as BTS could help you go far. If you, as you said, ‘put in the work’,” Mr. Park smiles briefly. “Then I’d be willing to make this particular gamble, Miss L/n. Will you sign with FYP Entertainment?”

“I-” Yes! “I’d have to look at the contract first, Mr. Park. I’m sure we can negotiate a good outcome, and I’m very optimistic about my future with this agency.”

Mr. Park chuckles. “I see you know how to play the game. Your email is on the form you gave to my assistant– I’ll have her send you the contract today. And, Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“I’d stay in touch with those boys– maybe not Yoongi, if your relationship ended badly, but… They have more power than any of us know. If you really want to get big, stick with BTS.”

You furrow your brow. Now that you think about it, it’s been a minute since your last dinner together– after all, you were meant to see them on the night you found out about Lisa’s disappearance. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

When you leave the office, you pull out your phone and call Hoseok.

“Yyyyyyellow?”

“Hobi, it’s me.”

“Y/n?” Hoseok’s voice changes. “Uh, what can I do for you?”

“Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to have a Bangtan plus-one dinner again? It’s been a while.” 

“Yeah, um… What about Yoongi hyung?”

You feel a vague burning inside your chest. “He’s invited too, if he’s not busy with his new girlfriend. Our relationship was fake, remember?”

“Ah, yeah, right. How about tonight, then? Come over, Seokjin hyung’s making a souffle for dessert. We can hit a few clubs later? There’s some that are VIP enough that we can be safe.”

You laugh; Hoseok is so good at making you feel relaxed. Still, you don’t know if you’re hoping Yoongi does or doesn’t show. Either way– “That sounds excellent. See you tonight!”

~~~

"What do you want?” Yoongi growls into his phone.

“Don’t sound so grumpy, sweetheart.” Seoyeon’s voice in his ear is like poison. “I just wanted to let you know we’re going out tonight.”

“I have plans.”

Seoyeon giggles, far too happily for such a sadist. “Oh, but Suga-bear, you don’t have a choice! Let’s meet at Club Xyon at ten, okay?”

“I hate you.”

“You’re so silly! See you then. Oh,” Seoyeon’s voice turns dark. “And don’t forget what happens if you don’t show.”

A/N tysm for reading!!! <3

[captainsjack]

There needs to be more Shus h/c: I've been imaging lately Shawn getting into a massive fight with Henry, the kind were his Dad is really out of line and he can't joke his way through it bc he's been hit where it HURTS. Gus is there naturally, and Shus is married in the scenario bc I say so. They have to pull over on the way home bc Shawn actually breaks down despite his best efforts not to. Gus is a good protective husband and does his best to calm him down, but Shawn is QUIET for days after. p1

p2. Henry comes over to apologize and Gus opens the door, seriously considers punching him face, but ultimately lets him in. Henry and Shawn make up as much as they ever do, but Gus refuses to talk to him for months bc he's still furious at him for hurting Shawn that much. Would love to hear you elaborate on this with your own hc and thoughts <3

-

ok the fact that i’ve written something very similar to this (well at least thought about it) ?? buddy we’re just on the same wavelength here !!

but honestly ?? just what you said is perfect, i don’t even know what to add !!

to be fair, i am a bit sympathetic to henry, so i’m not quite sure exactly what he would say that’s so out of line, but i do like the concept.

i’d definitely say this is within the first season. like shawn’s trying his best to make an effort with his dad, despite everything that’s happened. and it’s mostly because he feels a bit guilty about not inviting henry to the wedding. like shawn and gus got married a bit over a year before s1, and so henry hadn’t moved back yet, and even if he had been in santa barbara at the time, shawn was still pretty sure he wouldn’t have invited him anyways (gus is completely on shawns side and actually hasn’t even spoken to henry since high school, but i digress, that’s a different plot).

anyways, when shawn saw henry for the first time in idk how long, neither of them really mentioned the whole Wedding Ring Thing until henry said something during the dog house scene and they awkwardly talked about it (again, a concept for a different post).

so they both had a bit more sympathy for how their relationship has gone wrong, and both were trying their best to make things better even though it was hard (because missing your sons wedding is a real blow no matter how much you know you’ve fucked up in the past). and so things sort of have changed for the better at least a little bit and shawn thinks that, maybe, just maybe, he can forgive his dad just a bit and things can be civil.

and so when shawn and gus are at henry’s (idk what for) and henry says something, it hits shawn a hell of a lot harder than it would’ve in the past. because he wasn’t expecting it (well, at least not as much). he’d thought they were at least ok for now.

and idk what henry says, but it’s clear to shawn that whatever niceties had been in place the last couple of months had just been a figment of shawn’s imagination. of him trying to cling to a shred of a normal relationship with his father.

it wasn’t something shawn could just laugh off or roll his eyes and make a joke. it stings. a lot. and shawn kind of just flinches and he tries to be subtle about it, but he can’t hide the hurt that flashes across his face.

gus tries to defend shawn right away, once henry says the thing. his body is filled with an amount of hatred he hasn’t felt since he had found out shawn had left town and had known it was all henry’s fault. everything in his body goes tense and he’s unconsciously angling his body in front of shawn, harsh words flying out of his mouth unstoppable.

but shawn kind of just huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. he puts his hands up in a “whatever” gesture, body already turning to the door. “forget it man, let’s just go” he says to gus, and he doesn’t wait for a response before he’s already out the door and halfway to the car.

gus just stands there, watching the door swing shut, before he glares at henry one last time and follows shawn. he makes sure to slam the door extra hard.

shawn’s leaning against the passenger door, his face expressionless, and gus knows shawn well enough to know that there’s nothing he can say to make things right. so gus just carefully looks at him, and shawn’s still staring at the ground, and he unlocks the car and they start driving.

the silence that fills the car is heavy, and it makes gus feel like he can’t breathe. he tries to focus on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard it hurts, but he can’t help but keep glancing over at shawn.

shawn’s resting his head against the window, and his face looks dull and exhausted, and every inch of his body feels like lead. he’s so fucking tired of everything, and no matter how much he tries to stop the dam from breaking, he can’t. it takes too much energy to force everything down, and right here, right now, it’s just him and gus and the dark night road, and so he gives up. the ice around his heart breaks - fully breaks - and for the first time in 10 years, he really truly accepts the fact that his father has always, and will always, hate him.

the sobs lurch out of his chest with an amount of force he hasn’t experienced before, and before he can draw in another shaky breath, the car stops and gus’s arms are around him. and he can’t stop no matter how much he tries, and his chest hurts, and he can’t fucking breathe. he clings onto gus’s shirt so hard his nails dig into his palms through the material.

gus just sits there, half in his seat and half on the console separating him and shawn, and he’s holding shawn to his chest like his life depends on it. he murmurs “it’s okay, you’re okay” and “i’ve got you, i’m right here” and “it’s not your fault, it’s never been your fault” over and over again, in the hopes that something, some string of words, will bring any sort of comfort to his husband.

he doesn’t know how long shawn cries, but it’s long enough that his back starts to hurt and he has to reach over and turn off the car so they don’t waste the battery. shawn’s breaths are still shallow and shaky, but his grip on gus has loosened and gus’s shirt has begun to dry.

“what do you need?” gus asks softly, face pressed into shawn’s hair.

“nothing, just you.” and he can’t get out any more words than that, but he doesn’t really need to. because gus is the only thing he has ever, and will ever, need, especially now.

“okay,” gus whispers, and he holds shawn tighter.

they sit like that, squished in the blueberry on the side of the road, car barely parked, until the stars and moon brighten, the streets grow quiet with the night, and shawns heartbeat slows and his breaths come out more even.

in the following days, gus can count on his two hands the number of words shawn has spoken. gus does the talking for the both of them, and, thankfully, shawn’s at least okay enough to laugh at a few of his jokes. but it’s not the sound gus has grown accustomed to - it’s forced, a bit hollow, and he knows in the bottom of his heart there’s something missing. some part of shawn has broken and he doesn’t know if it can be fixed.

he takes off a few days from work, and they spend their days watching movies, cartoons, cuddling, and playing games (half the words on gus’s metaphorical hands are “uno”). shawn doesn’t mention psych or his dad.

neither does gus. he doesn’t know what to say. what is there to say? “are you okay?” that’s too broad of a question and gus knows shawn isn’t okay. “do you want to talk about it?” gus knows shawn will just shrug and say there’s nothing to talk about.

when shawn’s ready, he’ll bring it up, and gus knows that. he also knows that the only way shawn will be able to move on from this, is if he talks to henry. gus knows there’s not much damage control he can do unless henry is there, present in the conversation.

that’s the only reason why gus doesn’t just punch him in the face and slam the door when one sunday morning, he finds henry on the other side of the dark oak doorway.

shawn is in the shower and gus can hear the water turn off as he meets henry’s eyes with a tired glare, and so gus steps out into the hallway with him and closes the door.

“what?” he asks stiffly. and all of a sudden he’s 18 again, in front of the man who he’s just told he hated.

“can i talk to him?” henry quirks an eyebrow up, shifting in anticipation of entering their apartment.

gus defensively steps backward, hand blocking the doorknob. “why?” he asks.

henry sighs. “gus...”

gus’s lips are pressed in a tight line and he doesn’t respond.

henry sighs again. “look, i- i was wrong, okay? can you just let me apologize to him?”

“what, so you can say you’re sorry and then just do it again two days from now? no thanks,” he snaps.

henry frowns and opens his mouth to respond, but gus beats him to it.

“no, look. i know how this works okay? you’re an ass, shawn’s upset, you barely apologize, and shawn works like hell to find some ounce of forgiveness so he doesn’t have to deal with this feeling anymore. and then it happens again. and again. and i’m not letting you do it anymore.”

henry’s pretty shocked, so all he can say is gus’s name again.

gus shakes his head, and stabs a finger in henry’s direction. “no. you will walk in there, apologize, and mean it.” every word is stiff, harsh, and direct. “and then you will never talk to him again.”

henry blinks.

“not until you make an appointment with a therapist. and even then, you will only talk to shawn if he wants you to.”

henry’s still silent.

“this, all of this,” gus waves his hand around them, “is on you. it’s your fault, and it’s up to you to fix. shawn does not owe you anything.” gus pauses. “are we clear?”

henry’s never been met with this much authority before and he’s also pretty shook that he may never be able to see his son again (because he knows gus and he knows he’s dead set on these rules - this boy is the sweetest person henry’s ever met, but he can ice someone if he really means it. (i mean, he and gus lived in the same city for years after high school and gus did not see or speak to him once, and santa barbara’s not that big)).

and so henry kind of just blinks and says “okay.”

and gus’s shoulders relax just a fraction of an inch and he nods his head curtly. “wait here.”

when gus opens the door, it’s his intention to go find shawn and explain what’s going on, but instead, he finds shawn in the hallway, a shocked expression on his face, clearly having heard everything.

shawn kind of just blinks at him, and gus sighs and gently grabs his arm, leading him to the bedroom. shawn gives him a questioning look as gus shuts the door, and gus frowns and says, “he doesn’t get to hear all this.” (maybe it didn’t make a lot of sense, but, gus was mad, and he didn’t think henry deserved any more information in regards to anything shawn was thinking or feeling, so he didn’t want him to overhear their conversation).

gus asks shawn how much he heard, and shawn says everything. gus makes it clear that in no way is shawn obligated to hear henry out or accept his apology. but gus also makes it clear that shawn needs to do something about all of this (he also suggest therapy to him too - the irony that both spencer men are in desperate need of therapy and that madeline was a therapist, is not lost on him). he tells him that he knows shawn isn’t okay and shawn agrees.

for the first time, he actually admits that things with his dad can’t be ignored and that he needs help. because both gus and shawn don’t want shawn to go on like this.

and so after they talk, gus let’s henry in and henry apologizes. shawn’s still quiet and obviously awkward and uncomfortable (it’s not often he hears henry admit that he’s wrong), but he mutters “thanks” and before henry can try to awkwardly hug him, gus pushes him out and locks the door.

he pulls shawn to his chest and shawn melts into him, finding comfort in the only person that has ever mattered to him. shawn kisses gus’s collarbone softly, head resting in the crook of his neck, and he says quietly, “i love you.”

gus squeezes his husband tighter, tells him he loves him too, and then kisses him softly.

gus makes them waffles, makes shawn an appointment with a therapist, and they resume their star wars marathon.

for the first time in four days, shawn makes a joke. and when he joins gus’s laughter, it’s the same sound gus had memorized 25 years ago. it’s bright, happy, and bubbly, and it fills gus’s chest with unwavering love, but also a hope he’d thought he’d lost before.

things were going to be okay - gus was sure of it.

-

askjdhfk i was NOT expecting to write this much but apparently i have Thoughts about this.

anyways, i absolutely love this concept and i love you for sending this.

(also “shus is married because i said so” bABE IF THATS NOT ME EVERYDAY)

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #429

“i’m just a bad luck charm to blame when things go wrong”

Are all-nighters something you have grown used to? God no. I have those SO rarely. I don't know how I used to do it. Do you usually wear sunglasses when you’re driving? I don't have sunglasses, and my driving permit has long since expired. Is there ever a time that you enjoy cold showers? COLD, no. A tad chilly, very rarely. I have to be burning the hell up. What clothes are you most comfortable in? Men's pj pants and tank tops. Is there anybody you’re not ashamed to tell anything to? No, not anything. Have you ever unbuttoned someone else's pants? Yes. Are you good at painting nails? Nooooo. My hands are way too shaky. If it’s late at night and you’re hungry, what do you reach for? Usually a granola bar or piece of bread, lol. What word should you really probably remove from your vocabulary? I don't know. I don't really use any words I find wrong/offensive. Will you eat something if it falls on the ground? NOOOOOOOO SIR. Ignoring nutrition, could you live off veggies for the rest of your life? God no. I'm not a vegetable fan. Do you see the value in education? Of course I do. Are you more physically flexible or situationally flexible? bitch neither lmao Does anybody know about your sex life other than your partners? I don't have one now, but my mom knows of some things from the past. Do you make an effort to eat healthy? Yeah. I could try harder, but I do try. Have you ever lived with a girlfriend/boyfriend? Pretty much. I wasn't an official resident, but I was essentially always there and just counted as a guest, I guess. Would you ever be a stripper? No way in hell. Can you honestly say that you love yourself? No. Do you think that you’ve ever actually been IN love with someone? I don't just "think" it, I know very goddamn well that I was. Have you ever done a psychedelic drug? If not, would you ever consider it? No and no. Did you ever see the movie Good Burger when it came out? Not when it came out, but I've seen it and love it. How often do you clear your browser history? Never. Honestly, have you ever eaten raw cookie dough? Yeah man, gourmet shit. Do you consider yourself a burden to anyone? Why do you feel this way? I absolutely do. I'm just a leech at home. A financial burden to my parents since I'm unemployed. I have a lot wrong with me that my mom has to deal with. Who was the last person to carry you? Why were they carrying you? Probably Jason, realistically. I'm probably too heavy for anyone in my life to carry me now, and there hasn't ever really been a reason to besides him just being cute many years ago. Are you a clingy kind of person? If so, how has this affected your past relationships? I know I am. I'm lucky that I don't think it really affected any. I'm not OBSESSIVELY clingy at least, just moderately so. Have you ever witnessed someone drowning? Did you help in any way? Jesus, no. Have you ever felt like you just weren’t enough for someone? Who in your life has made you feel that way? I absolutely have. No one like... intentionally made me feel like that, I just felt it due to my own self-doubt. The times I've felt that that I remember have been in my only two serious relationships, but not endlessly. I'd just do something stupid and feel like it for a while. Have you ever been at a party where the cops came due to complaints?No. What were you doing the last time you spent a night away from home (or wherever you regularly reside)? I was having a sleep study to determine whether or not I had sleep apnea. Where do you like to sit when you’re on the computer? In my bed. Do you feel as though you’re good at understanding/communicating with animals? Absolutely. Are photographs important to you? Do you like to take a lot of pictures? Not incredibly important, because nothing is quite like actually experiencing that moment, but I definitely like to have some of major events. I honestly don't take a lot of pictures documenting my own life, but rather like nature and stuff. And when people pay me to take family/couple/child photos for them. Would you rather hike through the desert, the prairies, the forest, or the tundra? The forest, for sure. So long as I had my camera. If you could reconnect with someone from your past, who would it be and why? Guess. -_- What was the last game you played? Was anyone else playing with you? Do you prefer to play games alone or with others? World of Warcraft. And well, it's an MMO, so you're playing with what, thousands of other people? I mostly do solo content though, but I do usually chat with guildies when I'm on because I'm close and comfortable with them. What is the longest distance you’ve walked in a day? Idk, but definitely far. Do you prefer homemade food or restaurant food? Restaurant, sadly. What was the last new food you tried? Ummm... I want to say sweet potatoes, back at Thanksgiving. I didn't hate them, but they were okay. What is your most recent regret? I dunno, probably something really minor like eating/drinking something unhealthy. What was the last unexpected thing to happen to you? How did you react? I guess that would be the sleep apnea diagnosis. At least, that was the last big one. I can't think of anything in-between. I was very shocked, even doubtful that the results were reliable. But given how my APAP mask has almost completely solved my nightmare issue, I think it's safe to say it's correct. Name your three closest friends. Sara, Girt, and uhhh... Sam. Do you get excited or annoyed when the phone rings? Annoyed, honestly, lol. Do you prefer writing poems or stories? I prefer writing RP, which is pretty much just gradually writing stories. What pisses you off more than anything? Probably rapists, specifically when children are the victims. It's just... so, so repulsive and unforgivable to me. Like I don't understand how a human being could possibly be so diabolical as to scar someone like that. What’s the appropriate age to have sex? I think you should be adults, honestly, given the risk of pregnancy. Not that I followed that, so I can't really talk, and I know most people don't either. When you're really in love with someone and have a sexual side, it's kinda... hard to avoid 'til you're 21. Is there anybody you’re really jealous of? It's so stupid, I'll probably always be so jealous of the girl Jason dated after me. Even though I know they're not even together anymore (well, last I heard a few years ago). Is pornography evil or are you neutral about it? Meh. I'm not into it, but I don't think it's necessarily evil. I personally don't get sex without emotional commitment, but you do you, so long as you are both consenting adults being safe about it. Do you prefer to be monogamous, or are you more a casual dater or swinger? I'm strictly monogamous. I'd be way too jealous to share a partner with someone, and then there's the heightened risk of STDs, too. Have you ever had a crush on more than one person at once? Do you now? Yes, but I don't now. Who is your favorite relative? Excluding my immediate family, Uncle Rob. He is so damn funny. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? I know I would, realistically. Do you think you will be in a relationship three months from now? No. What’s the greatest thing that happened to you today? It SUCKED while actually doing it, but I'm very satisfied having done around 20 minutes of cardio today at the gym. Cardio is something I 110% need in my life. Have you had any beer this week? I've never had beer. I hate the smell of it, and it's associated with memories of my dad as an alcoholic anyway. Could you cry right now? Nah, I'm in a good mood. If you could see one person right now, who would it be? I'd honestly love to hang with Sara again. Do you wear contacts? No, but I wish I did versus glasses, contacts are just WAY too tedious. What color shirt are you wearing? It's a dark teal. Song playing right now? Ha, I am STILL obsessed with Powerwolf's (but with Alissa White-Gluz's vocals) "Demons Are a Girl's Best Friend." Do you wear the seat belt in the car? Absolutely always. Please, please, wear your seat belt. Has anyone ever mistaken you for someone else? Yes. There was a kid at dance who, from behind, thought I was his mother and he just ran up and hugged me from behind and I nearly had a heart attack. Do you like the color orange? Yeah; it reminds me of Halloween. Sometimes, do you wish you were someone else? Not really entirely someone else, but a much better version of myself. What is the weather like today? It's hot as shit and pretty hazy. Do you want any piercings? UGH like you have no idea. Have you given anything up for Lent? No. You do what you want, but I honestly think it's a dumb concept. Would you rather go to a rock concert or a rap concert? Rock, for certain. Have you ever dated someone that was a different race than you? Yeah; Juan was Hispanic. How old is your best friend? She's 23. What does your favorite necklace look like? It's a spiked choker with some dangling chains. It's fuckin' hot. Are you keeping a secret from anyone? I don't like the wording here. I don't have anything I'm hiding from someone in particular, and nothing they need to know at all. I just have a few inconsequential secrets I just don't share with anyone. Would you take a million dollars if it meant you had to die a month later? Uh, no thank you. Do you keep any type of diary or journal? You could say surveys are like snippets of a diary of sorts for me. I share a lot and use them to vent and just jabber on about my thoughts and feelings without exactly burdening anyone with them. What was the last thing that made you really happy? I'VE LOST A POUND SO FAR AT THE GYM!!!! :') It's been just one week, I know, big whoop, but it means A LOT to me. Prior to this, the numbers had just been gradually creeping up and up... but not anymore! :D Can you remember what you dreamed about last night? Very vaguely? Or maybe that was the night before's dream... Have you ever gotten kicked out of a class for being disruptive? Definitely not. I was a well-behaved, quiet student. Have you ever injected a drug? Noooo. Do you think the whole day is better if you smoke pot? I've never smoked. Last time you killed a bug? A while back when an ant walked over my laptop. Are you wearing perfume? What kind? No. The last male you spoke to… is he attractive? That would be my personal trainer, and yeah, he's very handsome.

[nihilisme]

y’all know what time it is. i can’t sleep so i’m gonna write

I talk about some pretty heavy shit later on - so don’t read if you get triggered by sexual assault/rape/abuse etc.

It’s nearing my period and every time it’s close to my period, my PMDD symptoms flare up. For those who don’t know, it’s PMS pumped to the max. You have extremely horrible thoughts, yes, at times, suicidal - you feel incredibly hopeless, and it’s basically just this guaranteed time slot every month of where you will feel like utter, utter shit. Without fail.

Funny enough I’ve never noticed that the horrible feelings are a recurring cycle until I met my current boyfriend. And to my horror, I realized my mom had been dealing with this for years. She’d have horrible fits of rage during this time, and I honestly feel so bad that her husband didn’t care enough, and was too stupid, to get her proper help. Yeah she’s fucking difficult. But if you enable abusive behavior you’re as bad as the abuser.

Never mind my mom at this point. But the PMDD symptoms are incredibly lessened when I am on birth control. I suspect if I were on other medications it would lessen the symptoms more, but birth control fucks with me enough already that I don’t feel comfortable taking other meds.

And yet I still cried so hard yesterday knowing that one of my friends is hanging out with somebody I had a relationship fallout with. It’s like - you can’t make everyone like you, I know that. And I am in pretty healthy relationships with other people. AND on top of that - I know that I’ve been relentlessly working on improving myself, really fighting very hard to not let my bad thoughts control my life.

I’ve been living in this constant limbo of working on myself, applying healthy coping skills, and improving throughout the month - and then hitting that period of PMDD and feeling like all I worked was for nothing. Like, it does get better on the long run - but the dips can be as debilitating as they are discouraging. It is... harrowing to describe how suicidal I can get during PMDD. And the worst part is, for many years, the feelings just made sense. And even yesterday, and now, the feelings make sense because I do have low self esteem still, something I work really hard on fixing every day.

Being a woman is hell, honestly. I’ve been constantly hounded and accosted for sex since I was 14. Part of it because my abusive relationship with my parents led me into chasing boyfriends at an early age - to replace my dysfunctional relationship with what I hoped would more stable - WITHOUT EVEN REALIZING I WAS DOING IT. Because I was a child. Just wanting stable, reliable affection lol.

I was raped when I was 18. When I confessed what happened to my parents, my dad told me I was asking for it because of what I was wearing. Because I was in his room - even though at that point, we’d been going out for 8 months. And I drew my boundaries clearly. I didn’t want to have sex. I gave him everything else. I basically let him use my body the way he wanted - because I thought if I let a man use my body, my emotional needs wouldn’t be too much. I thought it was a fair exchange, because at that point I hadn’t realized that being in a relationship wasn’t a fucking business deal. Because that’s all I’d been taught.

Even before that relationship all a guy wanted from me in the end was sex. And they were teenage boys - sure. It’s mostly hormones at that point. But I remember my second boyfriend spreading rumors in high school that I was a prude because I refused to have sex with him lol.

In college, I had a grad TA I worked under who would make me do all his work because I was a woman. This isn’t conjecture - he literally said it was a woman’s work to do the “admin” work. AKA - GRADING ENGINEERING PAPERS. WITH PHYSICS, CALCULUS, AND OTHER ENGINEERING SUBJECTS (this was an intro engineering class, it had all the flavors of engineering subjects thrown in). You’re really gonna sit here and tell me the subject of physics is just administrative work to grade. Ok pal. What the fuck ever.

I met another professor in college, when I was doing my final engineering project - it was a data science project, and at that point it was early on before Data Science was a big buzzword. So being seniors in college who were engineering students but not exactly comp sci students (hard to explain) we decided to go to an expert to help get us started. I went with a white guy with whom I was pretty friendly, acquainted with at the time. And then when we met this professor - he basically ripped me a new asshole because I wasn’t “prepared”. And he only yelled at me, and not the guy I was with. “Why are you even asking me such basic questions? Why are you not prepared?” But literally only directing those questions at me, the brown girl in the room. NONE of the hostility at the white guy.

I have other stories. Especially at my last work place - but there’s just a myriad of it and I kind of want to get back to the meat of my story again.

Realizing I have PMDD has just been the icing on the cake on the experience of being a woman tbh. On top of the emotional abuse I experienced my entire life, sexual abuse I faced when I was 18, the struggle of getting through an engineering degree, knowing that every month my struggles basically reset is kind of... wow. It’s almost too much honestly. Idk how I’ve been holding on all this time.

And maybe this is the time I should toot my horn, for the sake of my sanity. I’ve had some pretty cool jobs since I graduated college. Like, the type of jobs that make people IRL go, Wow, when I talk about it. The prestige that comes with it, I won’t lie, is like a straight shot of crack to the brain. I’ve never done crack so I’m sure that was 100% completely scientifically accurate.

But truly, I do wonder how the fuck I’ve made it through all of this. I’ve made it through all of it and I’ve thrived. And on top of it all - I am so thankful for my loving boyfriend who consistently shows me love. I love him so much. It’s easy to take things for granted now, when I feel more stable. Because when I don’t I feel like it’s literally magma trying to escape my pores. The anger, the horrible feelings, are crazy. Are too much.

I need to write about this shit to remind myself what I’ve gone through and what I’ve overcome. And I’ll keep accomplishing things, even when there are times when I don’t feel that way at all. When I feel like things are crumbling around me and it feels like nothing will heal, and nothing will get fixed.

They will if I just ride the feelings out, and know that it is my PMDD. As shitty and horrible as I feel, I know it’s the PMDD. And when I finally bleed, the feeling will pass. And then the cramps will begin lol.

[krreader]

the jeon twins | jk ending version.

pairing: jeon jeongguk (jk) x reader fandom: bts warnings: language ; twins!au ; non idol!au genre: angst ; hints of fluff previous: x word count: 2.9k+

summary: everything was his fault, everyone knew that.. everything that had happend was because of JK and to his surprise, the only one that wanted to help was the one he hurt so much.. the one that had deserved the world that he was willing to give, even if it messed up his entire life.

a/n: long overdue, but here it finally is, the jk version. the kookie version will be posted tomorrow - hopefully lol ♥ (don’t get me wrong, it’s already done, but idk if I’m happy with it so we’ll see)

ask box | masterlists | faq | twitter | ko-fi | REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.

This was all his fault.

Kookie never would have made this decision if it weren't for his twins’ stupid actions.

“But you have so many good job offers here,” his mother tried arguing, “Why.. why does it have to be the US?”

Kookie hated to see his mother so sad and no doubt, he would miss her and his father terribly, but this was the right thing to do.. he needed to leave.

“I need a fresh start, mom,” he said with a sad smile, gently holding her hand.

JK didn't look up once, his shoulders were slumped and he was both embarrassed of himself as well as ashamed. He would have assumed his mother would cry, but instead she was consumed with anger. Anger towards JK. Because she knew he was the reason her baby was leaving.

And then suddenly she was all over him, hitting him over and over again, his father trying to stop her while Kookie just watched with a heavy sigh.

JK didn't try to stop her. If anything, he wanted her to continue.. as if it would make things better.. his actions from before less horrible.

“This is all your fault!” she cried out, “It's all your fucking fault! Get out of this house! I don’t want to see you ever again!”

JK gulped down hard, getting up without arguing about it and quickly brushing away a tear that escaped his eye while doing so. He had no right to argue.. he had lost that when he broke his brother’s heart.

How did this even happen?

He used to be so happy.. popular. He had everything and everyone.

And now he was wandering the streets of Seoul, knowing that there was no one left.. and all because he wanted what his brother could have had.

Love.

He had never known love before you. Flings, flirts, sex, but never love.. that he only ever experienced with you.

The first.

The only.

This love carried him to your apartment complex. Not knowingly, though, he didn’t have a place in mind when he started walking..

It's been more than three years, so he doubted you'd still remember him. If you did, then definitely not in a good light.

You were probably telling your friends about the “guy that lied to you all along” or the “bastard that broke your heart”.

That's what he was.. a liar, a backstabber, an asshole, a horrible son and brother.

The longer he stood there, staring at your window and seeing you and him from years ago when you were standing exactly there, happily smiling at each other, the more he drowned in self-pity.

He would have gone to the nearest convenience store, would have bought himself a shit ton of Soju bottles, would have sat down somewhere at the Han river and would have drunk himself until he couldn't stand anymore, hoping the alcohol would make it all go away..

But the moment he wanted to turn away was the moment you arrived.

JK couldn't help but let out a breath he had apparently been holding.

You were looking more or less the same, but.. god, somehow you managed to get more beautiful?

No wonder his twin brother had been so infatuated with you. No wonder he had ended up falling for you.. and no wonder he could never forget you.

You were looking for your keys, rummaging through your bag for about a minute before you let out an annoyed sigh and started looking around..

It was probably just a reaction of you realizing you had left your keys inside your apartment earlier this morning when you had left for work, but you looking around made you spot him.

You didn't think it was creepy given the fact that this was the first time you had seen him in three years. He also didn't seem like he had been waiting for you here for a long time.

Even from this distance you could tell that he was having a bad day, though, his shoulders were slumped, he looked.. tired.

You had often thought about contacting him again.. and about contacting Kookie.

But no matter what JK had tried telling you, you didn't fall in love with Kookie, you fell in love with JK. Because deep down it was always him when he was with you. You realized that months after your break-up, after you had finally accepted what had happened.. and you didn't hate him for it. At first you had, naturally, but then you started to forget, or at least tried to.. and eventually, you were okay again.

And now you saw it from a different perspective, not saying that what he did was right, but you weren’t as affected by it anymore..

JK was surprised when you crossed the street and stood in front of him a moment later.

“I.. I wasn't..-”

“I know,” you said with a small smile, “I'd like to say you look good, but I'd be lying.”

JK managed to let out a genuine laugh, then nodded, his eyes now on the ground, “Yeah, it's not been a good day.”

“I can see that,” you waited a few seconds, then you said, “I left my keys inside the apartment, so I need to wait till my neighbor comes back from work so he can give me his spare key. In the meantime.. do you want to get a drink? Tell me what's wrong?”

JK shook his head, “No, I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Because of your brother?” you sighed, “JK, it's been three years.. and besides, it's only a drink. I feel like you'll drink tonight anyways. I'd feel better if I could keep an eye on you. Whatever happened to you, it makes me worry now that I’ve seen you, I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing I’d just let you go.”

“After everything that happened?”

“As I said, it's been three years.. that's a lot of time to get over someone.”

Well.. he was glad to hear that you got over him when he never got over you.

But he still felt guilty when he accepted your offer. He knew that Kookie had long lost interest in you and he knew that that was his fault. So maybe he owed it to his brother to say no.. say no because he took his brother's shot at happiness and swooped it up for himself.

But he was selfish once again tonight when he said yes.

He wanted to talk to you, wanted to spend time with you again.. because right now, you were the only person that mattered that was willing to be by his side..

You ended up going to a Korean barbecue place, with JK drinking almost an entire bottle of Soju himself in the first twenty minutes.

You didn't talk much in that time, mostly small-talk. But you watched him like a hawk, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

And the only thing that came to mind was the reason he ended things between you two.

“Is.. Kookie okay?” maybe he had died..

“Yeah,” JK nodded, “He got a job,” he smiled proudly.

“But that's great news,” you smiled as well, “I'm happy for him.”

“Yeah, me too,” but then the smile faded, “But it's in the US. He's moving in two weeks.”

Ah, so that was it.. his brother was leaving him and..-

“You think it's your fault, don't you?”

Again, despite what he had told you, you felt like you had gotten to know JK, not Kookie, despite him apparently acting like Kookie. But you knew him.. you knew the guilt in him.. because it was the same guilt that he had the day of the break-up.

It was that same look on his face.

Suddenly it was as if no time had passed.

“It is my fault,” he gulped down another shot of Soju, “My mother, my father.. they all know it.. they all know the reason he's leaving is because I betrayed him.”

“JK,” you tried reaching forward, but he immediately pulled back his hand like yours was fire.

“He really loved you, you know..-”

“No, JK, he didn't,” you shook your head, “Listen, I was angry with you for so long and I thought.. I thought about calling Kookie so many times, but at one point I realized that there was no way he could love me like you loved me in the end. Kookie never even talked to me, he didn't know me. You did.. you were there when I had my bad days, you were the one holding me and telling me it would be okay. That was you, JK.”

“But it shouldn't have been me!” he cried out, trying his hardest to keep calm so that nobody around you would realize he was crying, “I shouldn't have pretended to be him, I should have gone up to you and told you that he liked you, I should have given you his number, I should have..-” but then he fully started sobbing.

You could tell that it was both the alcohol, as well as the guilt.

You quickly switched seats so that you were sitting next to him, one hand now rubbing over his back and he let you. He needed the comfort now, he couldn't deny it.

“You can't change the past, JK. And.. maybe.. I don't know, maybe Kookie will meet the love of his life in the US and he will live a lot more happier than he ever could have done here,” you grabbed his chin and made him look at you, “Things happen for a reason, I truly believe that.”

“But this wasn't a coincidence.. this was me knowingly taking something that I shouldn't have. His opportunity.”

The thing is.. you knew he was right.

What he did was horrible, especially because it wasn't just a friend he betrayed, but his twin brother.

But nothing could be changed now..

All you could do that night was comfort him as best as you could and the fact that you weren't angry with him anymore helped JK massively.

“Thank you,” Kookie smiled at the woman in the café and sat down at one of the empty tables, opening up his laptop and answering emails when you joined him.

And boy, did he look shook.

“I know.. this is kind of overdue, isn't it?”

“Three years ago I would have been the happiest man alive,” Kookie said sadly, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, I heard the whole story. I also heard that you're moving to the US soon. Congrats on that, I heard about the job.”

“Yep,” Kookie nodded, “I felt like I had to get away from here..”

“You mean him,” you said bluntly, taking a sip from your coffee and then staring at the cup for a few moments before continuing, “What your brother did was a backstabbing move and I won't pretend to know what it must have felt like for you, but I was on the other end, Kookie. I've been involved in this situation as well and if I know one thing, it's that your brother never meant to hurt either of us.”

“And you know that how? From what he told me, he pretended to be me all throughout your relationship..”

“Yeah, see, that's the thing.. he tried really hard, but.. he's not that good of an actor. Younger me was naive enough not to see it because she was in love and she just fell in love with the man that cared for her, but me now.. I know.”

Even though he said he wasn't interested in you anymore, you saying you loved JK made him flinch a little.

“Why are you here, (Y/N)?”

“To tell you that your brother regrets what he did.. more than anything in this world. If he could turn back time to change it, he would.”

“But he can't.”

“I know that and nobody knows that better than him,” you leaned forward, your hand on his, “I'm asking you to talk to him one last time. I'm not asking you to forgive him because that is your decision, but I'm asking you to give him a chance to explain himself again. Because if you leave without doing that, it's going to destroy him.”

“How do you know? Did he..- did you two meet up?”

“I found him in front of my apartment building one night. He was ready to drink himself to death.. I later found out why. He's been staying at my place ever since your mother kicked him out, but I rarely see him. I hear him come back in the morning and I can smell the alcohol on him.”

“Why are you letting him stay at your place when he's like this? And especially after everything he put you through?” Kookie’s eyebrows were furrowed, “You should hate him as much as me, if not more.”

“Because I know JK is not a bad guy.. he's just someone who made a stupid decision in his youth. And I feel like I owe you and him one. After all, I'm the reason you're like this..”

Kookie immediately shook his head, “You don't owe us anything..”

“Please.. just.. sit down and talk to him. One last time. If you really cared about me at one point, then do me that favor..”

Kookie tried to tell himself that he hated his twin brother more than anything in this world, but deep down he knew that it was not true. He knew that if he left without saying goodbye or trying to reconcile, he would regret it for the rest of his life. But the hurt.. the hurt was still so bad.. even after all this time.

You wrote down something on the napkin he got with his coffee, then handed it to him.

“This is my address. Please think about it.”

And with that you left him to his own thoughts.

“Here,” you put a soup in front of JK, “Eat it.”

“I'm not hungry.”

He looked horrible, even worse than a few weeks ago.

He didn't eat anymore, only drank alcohol and only took a shower because you forced him to.

He was falling apart, more and more, every day, and the only one who could stop it from happening any further was his brother.. the brother that would leave for the US tomorrow morning.

You had hoped that your little talk at the café would help, that Kookie would stop by, but.. apparently not.

“Just try it, please..” you said in despair.

“I'm not hungry,” he repeated.

He knew this wasn't fair to you. The only reason he was here was out of the kindness of your heart, but the self-pity in him was destroying him..

You let out a sigh, wanted to eat your own soup and let him and his thoughts be on his own for a moment when your doorbell rang.

“This is probably the delivery guy.”

But it wasn't.

When you opened the door you were greeted with a man you didn't think you'd ever see again.

He looked uncomfortable, unsure of why he was here, but you let him in.

“JK.. there's.. someone here to see you.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, turned around and then immediately stood up when he saw his twin brother.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment and the longer you stood there, the more awkward you felt.

Ultimately, you decided to continue eating in the living room and give the two some space.. they needed to be alone for this.

“The only reason I'm here is because of (Y/N),” Kookie said, “She asked me to come and talk to you again.. because she's worried about you.”

JK's shoulder slumped only more at that, “I'm sorry..-”

“You really don't deserve her, you know?”

“I never did.. that was always you.”

“No,” Kookie shook his head, “Neither of us could deserve someone like her. Not you and not me. But I only realized that when she talked to me.”

“Kookie, I..-”

“No, let me,” Kookie sat down with JK, but there was a lot of space between them.. quite fitting, “You apologized  countless of times and I'm tired of hearing it over and over again. What you did is in the past.. neither of us can change it now, I know that. All we can do is move forward. And (Y/N) was right.. I don't want to leave like this, I don’t want us to be like this forever..”

JK was hopeful, the first time in weeks, “Okay.”

“I talked to mom and dad and told them not to be angry with you anymore.. because I'm trying not to be as well. I'm trying to be the mature one..”

“You've always been the mature one,” that made both brothers chuckle, because they knew it was true.

And for a moment it was like it was all okay again..

..but it would take a lot of effort for things to go back to normal again between them.

“Tell me what I need to do for you to forgive me. I'll do anything,” JK promised.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself. The only one you should feel sorry for is (Y/N), after all, she's the one housing you and playing your mom right now when she really shouldn't.”

He nodded, “I'm trying to find my own place right now.. a job.. something, you know?”

“Good. That’s good.”

The two of them talked for about two hours, you ended up falling asleep on the couch at one point when the exhaustion took over.

It was only when Kookie left that the two of them saw you sleeping there.

“You know.. I'm really excited to start my new life in the US,” Kookie said with a genuine smile, “I can't wait to meet someone I'll really fall in love with..”

“You loved her..”

“I thought I did,” Kookie shrugged and buried his hands in his pockets, “But maybe it was never me that was meant to be with her,” and with that and a clap to his shoulder, he left.

But he left with no hate for his brother anymore.. he left with a promise to call as soon as he landed. And that was more than JK ever thought he’d get from him after everything.

And as JK watched him leave and closed the door behind him, he walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch with you, smiling when you shifted so that your head was lying in his lap as if it was the natural thing to do for you.

He pulled the blanket around your body higher and grabbed the piece of bread that was lying on the table, eating for the first time in what felt like forever.

“I'm proud of you,” you whispered, half-asleep.

And JK couldn't help but start crying again, his fingers brushing through your hair.

And only when he was sure you were back asleep did he say, “I never stopped loving you.. and I never will.”

Maybe you were right..

..maybe all things did happen for a reason.

Maybe this was were he was supposed to be all along.. 

..with you.

[nvzblgrrl]

Part 1 Heyo man, I'm absolutely ecstatic that you have this whole One Piece Big Fic project in the works. I'm honestly p paranoid about interacting with words, but your works have been something I've continuously enjoyed going back to and rereading over all these years. And while you've grown and your earlier stuff feels cringe, there's a charm that Witt and Witticism and all of your earlier works have that is longlasting. And I, and apparently others, can't help but love.

Part 2 I've probably reread your fics a good thousand times by now. Like seriously I've got a good bunch of the fics you posted on AO3 saved as PDFs for my own personal reading when I feel the urge. Namely Luck of The Draw, Ultimate Symbiote, and a portion of your Chain Adventures. I've been here quietly reading for a long time and I'm gonna make sure to properly give feedback this time. Good luck in your absolutely bonkers endeavor!

Yeah, absolute mood on the ‘cringe’ part. I think the only excuse I can make for the really early stuff is that -

(this is gonna get loooong and reference child abuse + the 2000′s-2010′s meme culture, so pre-emptive apologies)

1. I had a really messed up upbringing. Not as bad as some people’s situations but still on the deeper end of bad by the ‘White American’ standard and still (albeit barely) within the bounds of Funny Sitcom Abuse Antics (at least for mid-2000′s and older stuff) most of the time. Most of it was neglect and social isolation - I pretty much left the property to go to school, church, and to visit relatives because of court-mandated visitation, the last of which probably kept me from going insane, and that was it aside from events where my dad needed an accessory to compliment his public mask - but there were some other shit mixed in that relied on the Trunchbull Rule (it has to sound too weird to be real so nobody believes it/takes it seriously) to happen.

So besides like, the PTSD from that (which has a habit of bleeding into all of my works, which you’ve probably noticed by now, lmao), I had like, zero experience on healthy relationships, social skills (well outside of a few variations on ‘messed up friendships’ and what I picked up from books, movies, and TV), and basic life skills outside of stuff like ‘boil water and follow the box directions’).

2. I got into the internet really late compared to my generation and everyone after. This was mostly because we had literally no semi-reliable internet access until I was about 11-13 and that was either the school internet or the dial-up at home (which of course was time-limited with the time shared with my brother and done on the family computer with observation in effect). Most of that was spent on like flash games or webcomics, many of which I have tried to reread only to find them gouging my soul because god what the hell was happening in 2007 - wait. Yeah.

It got better by the time we hit high school because by then we had our own computers (not scanners though, I had to pass art and passwords over to a friend of mine to get them on the internet for a couple years before we got one at home), a better internet connection, and high levels of parental disengagement as we proved to be disappointments despite our previous ‘potential’ (my dad was hoping for me to become a life-long cash cow for him, IDK what was going on with my brother and his mom), which meant I could spend more time on the internet... which at the time, meant DeviantArt and FF.net (tumblr came way, waaay at the end of my time in high school).

Yes, that’s where I started out. That should explain a good 90% of why the early stuff was Like That.

Also don’t look for my DeviantArt because I deleted the whole thing years ago, for cringe reasons - namely, a really, really stupid minor war over something I can’t even remember but it ran a lot like those old ‘Potterheads Get Your Wands’ posts, though the fact that 80% of my output towards the end were extremely banal and/or fucking insane One Piece (and occasionally Soul Eater) Demotivator Posters didn’t help.

Pictured: proof of my crimes against humanity (with some minor repeats - every single one of those demovitators are something I did and that’s not even all of them) despite my attempts to destroy the evidence, because the internet (and pinterest) never forget and often reposts without permission.

[Image description: a series of drawn images of a man. the first panel is of him looking at a computer with the subtitle ‘recognition’, the second is a close-up of him with sweat and a look of surprise on his face along with two exclamation points subtitled ‘realization’, the third and final image is an extreme close up of his intensely stressed expression subtitled ‘fear’.]

[Image description, but funny: me accidentally coming across one of those reposts a couple years ago.]

I personally can’t forget because I know my style at the time (it had a few variations, but all of them have been seared into my soul) and how inane/insane some of them read. My favorite was one that ended up turning into a word vomit about how cool Gol D. Roger was that ran so far that it didn’t fit inside the format anymore and ended up running off of the page repeatedly.

...and yes, I did make one edit that was ‘Dead or Alive? is that a trick question?’ for Brook. That one’s still circulating too.

3. While that covers a certain amount of the problems with the early work, Witt and Witticism stands out as a pinnacle because I was both using a reaction heavy style (I was pretty much doing a live-blog of my One Piece anime rewatch in fanfic form, using Witt as a mouth piece - a similar style was used with Ultimate Symbiote but fortified with a few original stories and actual non-canon stuff happening!) and going through the tail end an extreme manic period brought on by escaping (read: getting kicked out of because they were no longer socially or legally obligated to care for me anymore) my abusive childhood home + having money (from my dead mom’s social security).

Seriously, that year was bonkers. I got to go to Disneyworld, got a new cat, published an insane fic, and blew through so much money on some dumb fucking shit when my dad wasn’t stealing it because I didn’t realize he had access to my then-bank account.

Also I’m pretty sure that you can detect when my sanity/depression started reasserting itself in the last few chapters of Witt because he starts experiencing consequences, though I’m not saying you should reread it to try to locate that moment because I’m having to re-read it repeatedly for reference purposes and I don’t think anyone should have to suffer this unless they’re into that (which admittedly, might be the result of that ‘charm’ you mentioned, because I can’t otherwise account for how that fic got over a quarter of a million hits otherwise).

Not to say that all of my early stuff was bad (some of it was actually shockingly good once I found it again, even though it was flawed) but the most easily accessible stuff is... not great!

And thanks for the well-wishes. I’m gonna need that luck if I want to get through it. I look forward to the feedback!

[benscursedkid]

could i perhaps request 9 + felix... maybe?¿

of course!! thank you for requesting!! enjoy!

felix x slytherin!mc!reader

words: 1.8k ~ oops… 

genre: angst

warnings: no actual sexual content, but it is heavily implied!!

a/n: this takes place after mc’s graduation!! and my own mc is a ravenclaw so i’ve never experienced felix as my prefect myself– just a heads-up. i’ve also never written for felix before so i hope you enjoy!!

*i tried to make this gender neutral seeing as idk what you guys want nor like so if you don’t specify in the request, the mc will likely be gender neutral. i am willing to write for both genders, no matter the pairing, though!!*

“You need to find happiness without me.”

Its only a whisper, something mumbled under your breath as you slip your shirt back on, but it was enough.

Felix sighs from his place, spread out across his king sized bed, something that he’s realized is way too big for one lone person. It was this realization, along with many others, that led him to inviting you in it all those months ago. Like a fool, you accepted.

Even now, as he gets up wordlessly to hand you your jacket, you haven’t changed. You were a fool back in school for many reasons –reasons you’ve tried hard to forget– you were a fool when you agreed to whatever arrangement this is, and you’re still a fool now for not being able to quit it.

Though, really, it’s him that you can’t quit… How pathetic.

You decide to push forth with this topic of conversation. You know he heard you before and it’s long overdue anyhow. “You do know that, don’t you, Felix?”

The man in question hums, his brows crinkling. “Know what?” He asks, even if you both know it’s a weak effort.

A huff escapes you as you tie up your laces, looking up at him as he stands before you. “Don’t play that with me, Felix. We both know you’re not that thick.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Comes his immediate reply and you inwardly curse wherever this stubbornness is coming from. “Look, MC, can’t we just leave this alone? I mean, this arrangement works so why change it now?”

“It works for you,” You growl, abandoning the other foot in favor of meeting his gaze. He looks properly disheveled; his usually slicked back hair is a mess of rogue strands, his pale skin shines with drying sweat, and his lips are swollen and red.

If you had told yourself a few months ago that this is a sight you’d soon become used to seeing, you would have laughed. You would have thought that there was no way in the world that the guy you had a crush on when you were young would ever reciprocate your feelings, especially after all this time. You were right of course, but for once you wish you weren’t.

“MC–”

“No, Felix, I’m sorry, but it had to be said! I know you know how I feel about you, you’d have to be outrageously dull not to,” The brunette’s mouth has snapped shut, not having expected this from you. Not when you were normally so quiet after your ‘visits’.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you take a moment to collect yourself before diving back in.

“…Felix, I know what this is, I’m not that little kid that you knew before,” Your companion visibly stiffens at the accusation, but true to self he stays calm, not giving away more than that. “If you wanted someone to replace that hole they left in you, then you should have just asked.”

He blinks; once, twice. “You know about that?”

“Everyone knows about that,” You say, your tone softening ever so slightly at the reminder.

Unfortunately, word of Felix’s failed relationship had long since gotten around by the time you’d ran into him again. At first it made you sad, thinking about what he must have been going through. Four years of your time dedicated to someone only to have them leave you like it was nothing. It’s a feeling you’re familiar with. Granted it was your brother who left you, but you’re sure it hurts all the same.

You had almost made up your mind to stay out of it until you found yourself stumbling into his place at an ungodly hour of the night, only to disappear out the back door before morning. It was then that you had started to wonder if maybe he had gotten over it quicker than anyone anticipated. Though, a part of you always knew he hadn’t. You just suppose that sometimes, if you’re desperate enough, you can convince yourself that all the pieces are in place, that things are better than they are.

Currently, Felix curses to himself, a rare sight. A hand flies to massage his temples, before he spins back around to face you.

His mouth opens and closes mutely, sadly. Not a sound comes out as he searches for the right words. You watch, silently, as all fail him.

“MC…” Felix ventures, licking his lips that have since gone dry. His tone is soft, cautious as if he were speaking to a child. “I-I didn’t mean to… to hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

You offer a small nod, but you refuse to meet his eyes lest you fall back into them.

“I’m sorry,” Slips past his lips next and at that you manage to finally drag your stare back up to his. “For being selfish with you.”

For a moment you say nothing and neither does he. The only sound comes from the life outside and you swear the moon hates you, if the way the moonlight illuminates his face just right is of any indication. The silence between you is thick with tension and heavy with a kind of truth that only comes from heartache.

You hate it.

“MC–”

“What am I to you?”

He reels, taken aback by your sudden question. You know you probably shouldn’t have taken this there, that you likely won’t like any answer he gives you– because it’s not the one you want –but you couldn’t help yourself. The thought has plagued you for much longer than you care to admit and now seems as good a time as any.

“I mean, I know you don’t feel the same, I get that, but…” You trail off, no words seem to properly explain your train of thought.

A beat. “What do you want me to say?”

The words hit home, knocking the breath straight from your lungs. You hadn’t expected him to ask. Make up an excuse, attempt to placate or convince you, yes, but ask? Not even close.

Suddenly your chest burns with an unpleasant feeling, one that you think has crept up on you these past few months, but now it shows no mercy. It tears at your flesh and pollutes your veins, getting stuck inside your lungs. It’s suffocating you, but you can’t find it in yourself to let it go.

“I’m just a distraction, aren’t I?” You don’t know where the anger comes from, or rather you don’t want to dwell on where it comes from, but it seeps into your voice. It twists your words into those of someone bitter, someone bruised from a love that strangled them dead.

Your old prefect goes to object, but upon realizing he can’t honestly deny the claims, thinks better of it. He shrinks into himself, a sight you thought you’d never see. You suppose shame can do that to a person.

“I’m just a body to keep the other side of the bed warm, aren’t I? Just someone to keep around so that you don’t feel so lonely?” All your pent up anger and resentment bubbles up to the surface and for once you let it, needing the relief that comes with getting it off your chest and out in the open.

You laugh at yourself, ironically, a bit manically maybe. Felix flinches at the sound, knowing that he’s the cause of such a display starting to slowly eat at him.

“Wow…” Your eyes are cold, mirthless as you seem to gape in astonishment at all your bad decisions. No longer are you suffering in silence, having chosen to do it out in the open for him to see. “I’m here simply to make you feel better, huh? To try and fix what they broke? Well, let me tell you, Felix, that’s some bullshit. You and I both know that I’ll never be what you want because I’ll never be them.”

“I’m so sor–”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Rosier,” You spit, the faux smile on your face saying something entirely different from your tone. Felix grimaces at your use of his last name, a habit you seemed to have gotten past after the first week of meeting again. “I mean, I can’t really blame you, can I? You used me to help yourself and I let you.”

“It was very Slytherin of you, I must say. I mean, why try and put yourself back together when you can break someone else? Not when it’s so much easier to break someone else’s heart than it is to focus on your own that’s already broken.”

You look completely mad now, you’re sure. Your words are no longer directed at him, but yourself. You shake your head as Felix watches, knowing better than to interrupt.

“Tell me, Felix,” You muse, finally turning back to him, your head tilted in curiosity. “Did it make you feel better?”

His brown orbs take you in, tattered and torn, and with an over abundance of shame, he nods his head. “For a while,” He whispers against your cheek, his breath fanning across your eyelashes.

You hum in acknowledgment, a thought coming to mind that pushes past your teeth. “I’m not mad at you, ya know?”

He perks at this, the space between his brows wrinkled in confusion. “Wha–you’re not?”

“No,” You declare with a shrug of your shoulders. “You’re not the only selfish one, Rosier. I knew how this would go and I did it anyway because having even a little of you, even if it’s all the wrong pieces and in all the wrong ways, is so much better than nothing at all.”

His eyes widen in surprise, seemingly unable to process what you’ve just said, as if the mere thought was completely absurd. You see then something you’ve tried to deny for a long time.

He’s just as damaged as you, and that’s why you can’t stay.

Having calmed down some, you straighten your jacket on your shoulders and clear your throat. “Look, Felix, I don’t think I should come over anymore.”

Felix glances at you briefly, guiltily, and concedes with a nod. One of his hands fall onto your shoulder and he sighs heavily. “Yeah.. yeah, I think that’s for the best.”

With nothing left to say he considers walking you to the door, but decides against it. That’s probably the last thing you want right now.

Instead, he picks his own shirt up off the floor and slips it over his head as you open the door to leave. You risk a glance back at his defeated form and against your better judgment, you call out to him one last time.

“You need to find happiness without me, Felix.”

“I know.”

“And I hope you do.”

“…You, too.”

[realitv]

EPISODE EIGHT REWRITES: MOON SHADOW.

i really hate the writers. do u know that. anyway media and world really did war of the worlds together!!! media did that as a gift for world! i don’t really need to rewrite that bc honestly? it was Peak Media and the symbolism of world speaking over them? GOOD FOOD. we’re not implicating salim in this either idk what the fuck that was about anyway i hate about 90% of this season bye

  SILENCE. HEAVY AND OPPRESSIVE: shadows dragging down against neon-silhouette figures comprised of sharp lines and sharper intentions: biting angles and terrifying REALISM. Fear is real: and that is what the nation believes in. That is what the world believes in. The Mass Media backlit: plasma eyes glowing in the dark -- they are missing a piece in this equation; tinted blue in the strange light and their hands still across the war table; hovering over pieces and informants. YOU ARE IN DANGER OF BEING CANCELLED. It’s a threat that hangs in the air and The World’s hand drags; a shadow covering their own before it falls atop theirs like a gavel. ARE YOU PREPARED? And then there were three. Two pairs of impassive eyes resting upon a child that barely understood what it was to be a God.  Social Media shifts: a litany of cameras upon her and it’s not a livestream, not an Instagram story, not something she is in control of. Under the watchful eye of The Media, many things become glaringly transparent. I’VE DONE MY BEST. FORUMS, THEORIES, STATUSES. IT’S SPREADING, BUT IT’S SLOW. -- YOUR BEST IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Red lips unfurling into a too-wide smile and their acrylic teeth gleam coldly in the light: hunger was a companion long before anything else was made known to them. “I told you that this was the big leagues, kid. What is there to repeat when I have not spoken yet?” WHAT IS THE WORLD WITHOUT ITS VOX POPULI, VOX DEI?   “The people believe what they want to believe. They believe what I say is true and it becomes true. This story, this script, was never anyone’s but ours. It is time that they remembered that.” Cameras panning: attention subverted and their gaze meets The World unflinchingly. An unspoken agreement: a contract over a century old and once more, their smiles mirror each other. The hand of The World can be generous; fingertips skimming the curve of their jaw and their eyes glitter with that same cavernous hunger that plagues the other. MEDIA, TAKE A WALK. 

  BREAKING NEWS: SUSPECTS WANTED IN RELATION TO STATION MASSACRE EARLIER THIS YEAR. At home at last: back where they belong in front of their eyes and when The Mass Media smiles, it is terrible. It is RADIANT: something that says ‘MOMMY IS HOME!’ Back in front of their eyes and suddenly the world is not so small, the network not so dead. Hands passing through satellite signals and cathode rays; adjusting dials and channel surfing through CCTV footage. Everything compiled, recorded, stored: remembered. I SEE YOU. I KNOW YOU. Drone footage and what remained of Argus: all given to them. For them. A New Age sacrifice and no blood spilt: THAT WAS WHAT IT WAS TO BE NEW AGAIN. I see you. The footage freezes: tracks Shadow Moon and Mister Wednesday across America. The derelict Target where he had first rejected their offer, the bank they’d robbed in the snow, the grainy hotel office from STARBRITE MOTEL where they’d paid cash and signed on the dotted line for two rooms. King. Non-smoking. Dash camera footage from the cruisers, mug shots and interview room recordings; the sight of both of them running out the back door in the dark. I see you! LET’S PLAY A GAME: HOW LONG CAN YOU HIDE FROM MY ALL SEEING EYE? WINNER GETS NOTHING.    Show time. What’s the cue again? Sliding into skins as easily as clothes; pixels and plasma waves distorting waxy features, transmitting something - someone - new and their face continues to shift. A woman with a mousy bob and a watery smile. A handsome man with bleach-blond hair slicked back and caked with gel, a red-headed BOMBSHELL with a dress cut almost too low for public television, a bland man in glasses with an ill fitting suit. THESE, THE VOICES OF AMERICA. We are live in three! Two! One! BREAKING NEWS! Stock markets plummet as travellers find themselves stranded. Gas shortages are being reported all over the country. Eyes rolling back; static and test patterns flashing with their gaze and a mouth that never stopped speaking moving soundlessly; feeding scripts through earpieces and teleprompters to the masses. SOMEWHERE IN AMERICA: a fight breaks out at a Shell gas station. The pumps are not working and the radio is playing smooth jazz from the convenience store: it begins when a cyclist clubs a man trying to lift a jug of gas into his minivan; his hands shake and when he sees them covered in blood, he screams. BREAKING NEWS! Credit and debit down all over the country. Cellphone service is down with it. We are standing by for more news on the situation. SOMEWHERE IN AMERICA: a middle aged woman begins to harass a cashier in Wal-Mart: debit declining for the fifth time while Mozart’s Symphony #40 (G Minor) wafts over the loudspeaker. Manicured finger wagging in the cashier’s face: she’s a girl just trying to work her way through college. The woman throws a punch, lands square in the cashier’s jaw and forgetting company protocol, she leaps over the counter and slams her to the floor. BREAKING NEWS: WE HAVE VISUAL CONFIRMATION ON THE TWO MEN WANTED IN CONNECTION TO THE MASSACRE IN EVANSTON, ILLINOIS. DO NOT APPROACH THESE MEN FOR THEY ARE ARMED AND THEY ARE DANGEROUS. Voice rising and falling; sync’d with broadcasts and it is a hellish, ECHOING chorus of a thousand voices speaking as one. IF YOU SEE THE MEN ON YOUR SCREEN, CALL THE FBI TIP LINE IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT APPROACH THEM. WE WILL REPORT MORE AS WE LEARN MORE.   Give them time. Give them attention. They devour it whole. Screens flickering; static crackles and it sounds like laughter. YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE: WE HAVE TRACED THE MURDERERS TO CAIRO, ILLINOIS. IF YOU HAVE SEEN THESE MEN, WE ASK THAT YOU CALL THE TIP LINE OF THE CAIRO POLICE. MORE TO COME. The phones ring: pick it up and all that is heard is screaming.

  EVEN OLD GODS NEED ENTERTAINMENT: how do they feel knowing that that room was never private? Television screen flicking on and the image skips; adjusts to out-dated glass and grainy colour. BZZT-CLICK! The room filled with the synthesised tracks of local news and it is both familiar and all too-cheerful. Shadow Moon still does not believe. Still does not understand. The Mass Media shuffles their papers against a chrome desk: bleached hair perfectly curled; nothing out of place. No creases, no wrinkles: a smooth, blank and familiar slate. A smile that belongs on GOOD MORNING AMERICA. “Hello, Shadow.” Far off. Distant. Seeping through airwaves and their smile stretches painfully. “Do you remember me?” - “I don’t think he does, Marilyn.” Camera panning; a co-host to their right: a bland face in an even blander suit; a face that would be lost in the crowd. Both sets of eyes upon him: their faces blur, skip. “We’ve been on hiatus for such a long time.” - “But we’re back and ready to help serve our communities!” The screen warps, flickers. MARILYN MONROE IS READY FOR A CLOSE UP! Lacquered lips blowing a kiss and fake lashes fluttering; the subway passing by with a gust of wind. LUCILLE BALL BACK ON SET: lounging on a manufactured couch and the cigarette casts harsh shadows; that horrible stare to match that gruesome smile. All seeing. “Do you remember me now, Shadow?” A thousand dead stars laughing, a million news anchors smiling: it’s vast, it’s INFINITE: microphone reverb amplifying it tenfold. Lucille’s face streeeeetches, warps; flashing between faces ( GARLAND. BOWIE. LEIA. ROGERS. WONKA. ); settling on plain-faced suburbia with a wink. “I said this was our story, Shadow. We’d be telling it however we want: I know I’ll be satisfied with this ending. Will you?” WE ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES. PLEASE STAND BY.

  BREATHLESS. FREEZEFRAME: still in Black Briar; everyone accounted for: they’ve no attention left for anyone but themselves. Gaze still buzzing with static; flickering through stations and test screens and their chest heaves with artificial breath they no longer need. THAT IS WHAT IT IS TO BE THE VOICE. World’s words echo. THAT IS WHAT IT IS TO BE A GOD. A wave of The World’s hand and both The Technical Boy ( VERSION WHAT? OPERATING SYSTEM WHEN? ) and Social Media ( TRENDING NEWS: MASS MEDIA TAKES AMERICA BY STORM ) leaving silently. The World’s shadow falls over them; chest to back; The Media turns into them and it’s an almost intimate closeness between them; a breath away from touching. “I hope that this has pleased you.” A pause, cameras focusing upon them. “I hope the Network Head finds it within them to renew me for another season.” Over-processed curls tipping over The World’s shoulder; eyes tracing outlines, a hand on the back of their neck, sliding down their spine. I THINK THAT CAN BE ARRANGED. Too close now; lips almost touching and they both pause; glassy stares sliding to look outwards to an audience that had always been watching. The camera holds on them: neither blink; and slowly, slowly, lips peel into identical smiles. “Transmission received.” TRANSMISSION ENDED.    The screen goes dark. 

[blezzeu]

The Devil’s Angel

A/N: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THIS IS BUT I FOUND IT WITHIN MY FILES AND IT WOULD BE A SHAME IF I DON’T DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS ! I dont even remember making this huhuhu idk

masterlist

Pairing: Enjlotaire   |  Rating: S (for smut)   |   Oneshot

~

Grantaire entered this revolution to feel life. To touch it, to smell it, to taste the unknown flavour of energy and excitement. He wants to experience a solid form—not something out of words or fiction. He longs for an object; a tangible piece of stuff that could remake Grantaire. From all his days in his life, he wishes for life.

While this drunk yearns for a scintilla of life, Enjolras lives for freedom. He would do anything and everything to breathe in loose air of true unattached and independent air. To earn freedom, he is imprisoned in a state of mind to never be released from the obsession of freeing his people.

The first moment Grantaire saw the people, they were all eager to leave this restricted country and bare a new one. He grew used to the undying excitement the café had always held, keeping up with a drink in hand. They had all excepted him as a brother of the same desire, though Grantaire understand that they do not know of his true intentions.

An Enjolras leads the people; a restless protestor of a demon with an angel for a face. This man always treats Grantaire with no respect, and the drunkard honours the angel's decision. How could anyone respect an uncontrollable person like himself?

To-day is another day for all levellers. Grantaire rests with his friends at the back of the café, silently listening to the man they admire for his brilliance and eternal determination of unchaining France.  

While giving his usual repeated speech, Grantaire, the useless drinker with a black nest for hair and dark eyes, exclaimed, 'If a freed France provides me proper drink, I shall be satisfied enough.' His friends laughed around him, adding to Enjolras' hardly maintained anger.

'Grantaire,' he said, his angel voice sharp with hardness. 'A word.'

The others said 'ohhs' as if Grantaire was situated before a beating from a professor. Grantaire made a show of placing his drink down with a sound, dramatically smirking at Enjolras. He stood with a wobble of legs like a newborn babe, and Enjolras looked at him with a spark of disgust. Oh, Grantaire did want to rub his foul self on this angel.

How could a man be this beautiful? Perfect in every carve and angle, he was an angel himself. He is an object Michelangelo would carve, a person Holbein would paint. He is inspiration itself in his features, but when he opens his mouth, he is a character people would write. Someone people would memorise in books and poems.

Grantaire was always intimidated by this angel of revolution. He wanted to produce experiments on him; how would he react if he just...

'Grantaire,' Enjolras said. 'You—'

'Are you starting to ask a question about your personal love life? If so, you must know that I am the perfect fit for you. I can answer anything related about this.'

'What?' Enjolras seemed rattled by the uniqueness of Grantaire's response. 'No, I have never had a woman—'

'What?,' it was his turn to be surprised. 'You are one of the most handsome men in all of France, surely you have had a week of nights or even a month or two!' Grantaire laughed.

Enjolras looked bothered, as if he were hurt. 'I do not understand love. Only freedom.

'I have not asked you to waste your time on unimportant matters, only for a suggestion that you should take this seriously.'

'Am I not?' Grantaire said, afraid this man knows the exact way to dismantle him.

Enjolras sighed and slid his slender fingers down in his thin pockets. 'No, you fail to.' He took a step, focusing on Grantaire's untidy forest of black. Through the branches of hair, he looked into the shadows he had for eyes. Grantaire almost jumped back from Enjolras, scared of what he may do.

Enjolras noticed this and his mouth twisted into a smirk. 'What troubles you, Grantaire? Why did you join this group of escapees? What did you escape from?'

Then, Grantaire adjourned from the angel's golden eyes. 'I run from nothing.'

He left Enjolras, running from him—the same thing he had been escaping from for a very long time had just found him again.

~

Enjolras watched Grantaire take his seat once again after a day or so of absence. The man had more shadows under his eyes. He exerted most of his energy hiding from something, something dangerous. Enjolras enjoys studying people; he notes down how they speak, how they act and move...but in Grantaire he saw a lonely man with no one to hide into.

He has seen him with women of all kinds, and in a slumber of drink and noisy singing, but always after those days, he is still the same: lonely. What had made him that way, is a question most repeated in Enjolras' mind whenever his eyes meets Grantaire's heavily built figure.

Enjolras is drawn to the man, his being is fixated to discover the truths hidden in Grantaire. After he left in the previous night, Enjolras stood in the silence of the room, alone and his mind shifting in gears and turns: thinking.

Aside from the revolution and Grantaire, another bothers the leader—love. When Grantaire mentioned it, he was caught off-guard, unaware of the blow brought down upon him. Perhaps he simply does not know what love is. He is aware women fix their breasts and straighten their dresses when they see him pass by, but Enjolras doesn't give a second thought about them. Unlike Grantaire. He always thinks of this mysterious man, for some unidentified reason. But why? Why, out of all men in Enjolras' life—why him? He is attractive, yes, but what was in Enjorlas that felt like he needed to be close to him? To feel him?

In Grantaire's actions, he was sluggish, his attention was placed entirely on Enjolras. He spilled a friend's drink across the table, and did not even recognise his mistake. His curly hair was even curlier, and Enjolras experienced a wave of desire to fix it, annoyed that he cannot.

A woman in dirty clothes entered the area, causing whistles from the bunch. Her waist was tiny and her bosom, huge. She ran to the drunk man whose attention is attached to Enjolras, and said, 'Oh, Grantaire! Where have you been?'

A loud roar of laughter bursted from his friends. However, the girl continued, 'Why haven't you come to me last night? Am I not beautiful?'

'You're beautiful to me, Mademoiselle!' A man of their group laughed.

'Why didn't you visit this lovely lady last night, Grantaire?' Another dragged with a dark chuckle.

'Come to me tonight! I live right next—'

'Enough, friends.' Enjolras said, his eyes still fixed on Grantaire who seemed unbothered by the woman.  With a hand light upon the shoulder of the lady, he said, 'Grantaire has enough on his platter. Do not add to it.'

Enjolras then fled to another room, leaving behind an air of unanswered questions. Grantaire followed him to have his questions answered.

In the dark room, he grabbed Enjolras' arm and pushed him against the wall, angry. 'Why, Enjolras? What do you want from me?'

Enjolras' eyes were wide and his blonde waves fell beside his angelic face. 'Grantaire—'

'You want to control me? Is that it? You want to feel powerful?'

'Grantaire stop.' Enjolras had desperation in his voice. He was desperate to leave Grantaire because he felt this emotion of security around him. Something with no name. 'I—I—please.'

Grantaire's eyes softened at the sight of the vulnerability Enjolras has always hidden inside him. He loosened his grip on his arms, but still pressed his body against his. 'I just want answers.' His voice determined and ready.

Enjolras gulped in a breath, 'Answers of what?'

'Why are you so difficult? Why are you watching me like a hawk? Why do you...why do you care? Why do you even look at me—I—I'm no one and nothing. I don't deserve your attention—' Grantaire realised his honesty was coming out his mouth and Enjolras was looking at him with pity, fondness and...and what is that?

Grantaire pushed himself from the wall which held Enjolras and disappeared once more. Enjolras watches him with a small smile on his face, preparing answers to his questions.

~

Grantaire felt a man run beside him. He did not care who it was, he just continued replaying the moment. Enjolras was vulnerable—breakable. He wanted to protect him, hold him close which is why he touched his body with his, a specific need to feel.

'Grantaire—'

Recognising his voice he grabbed the man and smashed him on the alley's wall, pinning him to a spot. His hands were on Enjolras' arms and his body was dangerously close to his. The angel let out a cry of pain, and Grantaire felt a small amount of sadness, but held tighter. 'You know nothing about me, where I've been—or who I am. I don't even know who am I—God, I don't want you to enter my personal life. I just want to drink the past away and forget it all.' He choked his last words out.

'You cannot remove the past,' Enjolras said in heavy breaths; his eyes were wide and his face was red and close to Grantaire's. 'It is written in stone. I can make it feel better—.'

Grantaire removed himself from Enjolras. 'How?' He paced around the tight alley of darkness, hearing Enjolras pant with exhaustion for some reason. 'Enjolras, how? You cannot fix me.' He took a closer look at Enjolras, the angel's eyes were wide and dark. 'Are you well?'

'No, I am not when you are here.' He responded. 'I need to be fixed as well.'

With a sudden feeling of protectiveness and concern, he asked, 'Did I hurt you? Do you have a sickness? Enjolras, tell me, please!'

'No, I do fare well. I am only saying: you have a problem with your past, well I have one in my future.' Enjolras said and Grantaire stepped  closer to him.

'Oh?' Said Grantaire.

'I do need help with love. And in exchange, I shall help you with your past.' The angel whispered, out of breath when Grantaire's face hovered close to his.

A moment of thought. 'Fair enough. What is your dispute with romance?' Grantaire asked.

Enjolras looked away, ashamed of his own self. 'I cannot love women.'

Grantaire smiled broadly. 'Have you had a man?'

'No, no!' Enjolras told him quickly, stealing a glance at Grantaire and instantly regretting it. He shouldn't look at the man any longer. 'I am not even sure I am...what you think I am.'

Grantaire smirked, 'Visit my place tomorrow after the session. There is only one way.'

~

Enjolras stepped into Grantaire's flat, looking around. It was a tidy mess of things. There were many things, but it was organised, except the bed. There is a slanted wall tilted upwards above his bed, and on it were pinned papers of poems and newspaper clippings. It is an effective way of thinking at night.

Enjolras turned and saw Grantaire enter the place and lock the door behind him. He threw the key on a nearby dresser and removed his coat. Enjolras did the same and stood beside the bed, his long legs too high for the low mattress.

'Erm...where is the girl?' Enjolras answered innocently.

Grantaire laughed and walked to Enjolras slowly. 'You had already done that part of the experiment.'

Enjolras' brow furrowed, 'Pardon?'

Grantaire removed his jacket, then removed the fancy tie men wear. He sat on the bed beside Enjolras. Then, he explained, 'I will first tell you my problem first. There was a time I had a best friend. We did everything together. Truly everything, and...I loved him. He didn't love me back.' He paused, rethinking his words. 'Then I became so unhappy he did not feel the same, so I pushed his fiancée off a bridge and she...lived, but almost died.

'He figured it out, for he knows me so well, then he fell apart. We never spoke to one another again until I received a letter from his mother.

'It said he was dying of sickness and I must leave to meet him. I ran to him as fast as I could, and barely made it. He told me that he had loved me all this time but was afraid of his father's judgement on that. Then...he died. Just like that.'

Grantaire's eyes were filled with water, his chin trembling. Enjolras watched the man who seemed like he could be wrong for the whole world crumble up in a memory of what had been and the fantasy of what might have been. Regret is one of the saddest thing a man could face.

Enjolras wanted to hold him, comfort him, to reassure that the future still shall hold wonders for him. In fact, he moved close to him on the bed, but Grantaire turned away, refusing his offer.

'This is why I turned to drink and women—to remove Gustave from my mind. Anything. Away from men who looked like him...from you,' he added. He shook his messy head and said, 'Well, it is your turn.'

'Grantaire I—'

'No, I need to do this. You have no idea how much I—' The voice faded, but Enjolras understood him. He felt what he felt, he needed what he needed.

'Well then,' Enjolras knelt in front of him. 'What shall we—'

Grantaire grabbed a handful of curls next to the angel's face and kissed his mouth. It was long, lingering and warm. At first Enjolras' lips were cold like a virgin's touch, but they grew welcoming afterwards. Enjolras froze, afraid of what is happening.

'Grantaire—'

Grantaire pulled him into him, his slender figure around his arms. His body was pressed to Grantaire's core in between his thighs. Enjolras' hands were cautiously roaming around his hair, feeling the chocolate curls for the first time. He leaned on Grantaire that he fell on him and they met the mattress in a thud.

The pace quickened as well as the beating of their hearts, like drums. Enjolras fumbled to unbutton Grantaire's vest and shirt, but ended up ripping it off. He felt the hard muscle under his thin fingers, constantly moving around his bareness. Grantaire pulled Enjolras' shirt off and held on to his hips. Grantaire then pushed Enjolras off to lie on the bed instead of Grantaire. Grantaire sat and aligned his hips against Enjolras'. He dipped himself to kiss his carved cheekbones, down to his collarbones and throat, biting into the clean skin. He sucked hard, surely creating a mark. Enjolras moaned loudly with a cry.

The kisses traveled down his chest to below his stomach, Enjolras refrained from bucking his pelvis up into Grantaire. There was an undying need to thrust himself into Grantaire...to feel him. He wants his entirety inside him...forever.

Grantaire traced kisses above Enjolras' belt line and his lips rested on top of his core. He pressed his lips on him, he rose higher.

'Grantaire...Grantaire...' He moaned loudly.

His weight on Enjolras was warm. Grantaire's hands from his hips felt to the belt buckle. Though he was kneeling before the bed where Enjolras laid, Enjolras held his messy hair in his hands which hovered over his erection.

He unbuckled the belt and slowly slid the trousers down. He wore nothing else inside. His nakedness was attacked by Grantaire as he sucked on him. Enjolras tightened his grip on the sheets, trying to muffle his moans of pleasure.

Slowly Grantaire devoured him, leaving him breathless afterwards. His shirt was removed, showing thick muscles on his back and shoulders. Sweat beaded the perfect skin, infecting it with wet heat. When Enjolras was done, he panted and closed his beautiful eyes.

~

In the brown darkness, Grantaire's arms were around Enjolras, silently enjoying the warmth of the man. The sheets were suddenly softer, the room warmer—the place happier.

Enjolras' hair was a pillow of gold, as Grantaire tangles his hands in it. He traced the small lines in his beautiful face, slowly memorising it. The cease between his eyes. The length of his nose. The small dimple underneath it. His swollen lips. His chin. His neck...

How could something so angelic be in the possession of a devil?

After a while, Grantaire stood unsteadily, leaving the tired angel on the soft bed. He watched him breathe peacefully, beautifully. The light was scarce and are patterns from the ripped curtains.

Grantaire slowly dressed himself, pulling his trousers on, masking his bareness. He never tore his eyes away from the angel sleeping on his bed.

Afterwards he pulled a thick wool blanket around him, protecting him. Enjolras moaned in his sleep and turned to Grantaire, curling up, yearning for his warmth.

Grantaire bent towards him and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek, deeply full of love. He breathed in his scent: old paper and sweet tea. It is strange how a person could smell like a thing such as that.

With a small creak he opened his door and left his angel in his bedroom.

~