#(as in 'everything was miserable and horrible and everyone was foolish and ignorant')

[isfjmel-phleg]

Some of the takes in the notes on that T S G-related post are wild. I am going to have some Things To Say this spring.

[andessence]

Stupid to have asked, as if ancient arcane wisdom were just a shirt you couldn't find in your size and desperately asked a clerk to check out back for. There is no more out back. There are no better answers he can trade this one for, and he knows it before the final blow even comes, but the words that ring out refutal in his head wipe out the last foolish part of Edmund that could hope against sense.

His hand pressed against the vessel's chest balls into a fist in the fabric of its shirt, and his head bows as the tears overtake them both. Gone. Gone forever. And the emptiness of that truth echoing across two minds, as one weak human was never meant to feel it. One shaking inhale is the precursor to the first of many long, desolate sobs. "It's not fair! It's not fair! No, it's— I looked into his eyes, and I— I told him I wouldn't save him then because I'd do it someday, myself. Beatrice, I told him..." Edmund feels like he could vomit, and might have if he hadn't spent all day in the grip of this fixation, researching, hunting through everything he's learned, preparing and dashing the components of spell after spell that still wasn't going to be enough. He hasn't eaten today, comes a dim realization, ignored immediately. "I told him I wouldn't because I had to SAVE YOU."

He leans into Beatrice, moaning, and feels a comfort at the touch which in this moment can only disgust him. He doesn't want to feel better if this is true. He should be miserable, if misery is the only thing he'll have left of Theo, and to drown it out in the relief that comes in Beatrice's arms feels like a second betrayal. It feels like the selfishness everyone's always hated in him, saving himself at the cost of everyone else. That's what he did to Theo's spirit, isn't it? He held his hand and stroked his face and he said underneath his bright words of promise, 'No, my power's more important than your life. No, I just don't love you as much as I love me.' Horrible. He's a monster.

He reels back and away, turning his back and letting himself crumple bit by bit, doubling over, then crouching on his heels, and finally sinking to the floor. "He should have been the one to get you. At least he was a good person. He could have done so much more." It's the kind of irrational, self-hating what-if that he could only have concocted in this pit of despair; Theo died months before the Voice had been severed from the Web. It was never even a possibility. But the thought is so exquisitely excruciating, the perfect tool of torment to throw himself on. Theo deserved power. He would have asked better questions, made better allies, helped more people... "You s- saved me once, when I should've died. Maybe if he'd had you, you could've..."

edmund’s thoughts have no need to be spoken. they writhe and claw for purchase and do not breach his lips, but the voice experiences desperation swimming feverishly like a drowning thing that finds no lifeline. and for a moment, it does dig deeper.

it should not have had to stop to rethink it, and they both know the answer already. it does so like a bodily reflex. it rakes over what it knows, plunging human hands into the abyss of its ancient knowledge and withdraws nothing. nothing that could relieve this dread. only after it has done this, after it has listened to edmund’s request does it respond.

‘I don’t have another answer. magic cannot reach between life and death. not in the way you’re imagining.’

it feels that black sky reaching infinitely to either side and sits with heaviness it has never experienced. the agony of being severed from its home is a different color, a different guttural tugging at the soul. this is the black corruption that gnawed away at its divinity; raw humanity breathing, screaming, weeping.

tears drip from its chin, and it does not struggle as the grief washes over it.

[girlboss-molina]

Be Who You Are (No Conpromise)

A Julie and the Phantoms Modern Royalty AU

Chapter 9: Stand Tall

Ao3 Link

Words: 10158

Luke POV

…

Luke’s jaw clenched as he helped Alex fix his tie.

He wasn’t sure if he was angry, sad, scared, or some hellish combination of the three, but he wanted it to go away.

He felt hopeless. Guilty. Angry at the world, at the entire situation. He’d tried so many things, but nothing had worked. Alex and Julie were still being forced to get married. He didn’t get to be with her. Alex didn’t get to be with Willie. At least, not like they should’ve been able to.

Even his impulsive attempt to lessen the pain Julie would feel had failed. He was grateful, truly, but also angry because she was so damn stubborn. He knew he was being an idiot, but she didn’t deserve any of the pain, and she wouldn’t let him try to remove himself from the equation to hurt her less.

Luke wouldn’t pretend to understand how she felt. And part of him knew that leaving would’ve been an insanely stupid thing to do. But he just felt so hopeless.

“Luke,” Alex said, pulling him out of his head. “Breathe.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Alex pulled him in for a hug. “I know what you’re feeling, and it isn't your fault.”

“But it is! If I’d-“

“Luke,” Alex said calmly, “if you start spiraling about how it’s all your fault because you agreed to be my guard or come to Dahlia with me, and how you falling for Julie was a horrible decision as if you had any control over it, or how you’re a horrible person, I’m going to smack you.”

Luke scowled and looked away. That wasn’t exactly what he was going to say, but it was annoyingly close.

“Look,” Alex sighed. “I’m not going to pretend this is a great situation. But it isn’t your fault in the slightest. You didn’t propose an arranged marriage, my parents did. You didn’t approve it, the Dahlian council did. You, Luke Patterson, stood by my side through the whole ordeal. You stood by Julie. You were here for us the entire time, and I can only hope we were there for you as much as we should’ve been.”

“Since when are you the rational one?” Luke grumbled.

“One of us had to do it. And, let’s face it, it wasn’t going to be you.”

“It’s true, but you didn’t have to say it.”

…

Luke had eventually made his way back to the guards’ quarters to make sure he was completely ready.

He wasn’t sure that would ever happen.

His classic black and white suit was identical to Reggie’s, Willie’s, and Erik’s. As the groomsmen, they all had to be matching. Each one part of a set.

Luke did his best to ignore the nausea as he walked back to the ballroom and took his spot next to Erik, Willie, and Reggie next to the altar. To their left were Flynn, Carrie, and Mira, each dressed in soft violet dresses.

After a few minutes, the huge double doors to the ballroom opened and the crowd hushed.

Alex looked absolutely regal in his suit. The white jacket had glittering gold embroidery that shone in the sunlight filtering through the crystal-cut glass windows.

As Alex made his way up to the altar, Luke caught his eye and gave him a small, reassuring nod. Alex gave his best attempt at a smile, before his eyes wandered away.

And then there was Julie.

As she opened the doors, walking with confidence, Luke’s heart soared and sank at the same time, falling into the pits of the sky.

Everything about her was perfect.

Her dress was perfectly tailored, golden accents shining with her eyes, hair done to perfection, and the way she carried herself was befitting of a queen.

Luke had to stop himself from stopping the officiant as he stepped up to the altar and recited the vows.

Alex’s forced, choked “I do” broke Luke’s heart. Ever bone inside him wanted to wrap him in a hug, but he restrained, even through the distracted, resigned “I do” of the girl he loved.

When everyone held their peace instead of speaking out, Luke felt like crawling into a hole and falling asleep for eternity.

“Then here, under the witness of citizens Dahlian and Tamborian alike, I now pronounce you husband and-

Then, Luke’s heart dropped. He wanted to be unsure, but there was no mistaking the clear voice.

“Wait.”

-----

Reggie POV

…

Reggie adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket, looking up at his ceiling and willing himself not to cry. There was nothing else he could do but wait.

He sat down on his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He wondered if he could count every line in the polished wood, every fluffy strand in his rug.

One.

Two.

Three.

The grain of the wood swirled, lines mixing and meeting and dividing, as was natural. Nothing was perfect and orderly. The lines were impossible to number; it would’ve been an easier task to find the line between love and hate, if it existed at all. Both rooted in passion, just taking different courses, he supposed they were branches of a tree. Nay, there was no line between them, because they were intertwined.

There seemed to be a lot of that.

He took his bass from its stand, fiddling with the strings and playing out notes as they came, letting his fingers work through how he felt. The major key and note combination felt much too cheery and hopeful for the current situation. That wasn’t to say that major keys were always upbeat and minor keys melancholy, but the persistent feel of the music shook something inside of him, something telling him not to give up, to stand tall.

Then again, maybe that was exactly what he needed.

…

The ballroom was packed with people from all over Dahlia and Tambor. As he worked his way through the crowd, searching for someone he knew, the voices of hundreds of people echoed through the room, laughter bouncing off pillars of polished marble.

He finally made his way next to the altar with Erik, soon followed by Luke and Willie. Reggie stuck his hand in his pocket, fiddling with a stim toy so he didn’t start fidgeting more visibly in such a formal setting. He also just needed to distract himself until the inevitable moment when it all came crashing down.

An eternity must have passed before Alex pushed open the ballroom doors, but it wasn’t nearly long enough. It might’ve been foolish to want to prolong the inevitable, but then Reggie supposed he was a fool. Any lasting moments of freedom had to be cherished.

His heart broke as he watched his friend stiffly walk to the altar, and those pieces were crushed as Julie entered the ballroom with Ray beside her, an elegant bouquet in her arms.

Jaw clenched through the forced vows, Reggie willed himself not to cry. He held himself together for his sister, however miserable she may be, he didn’t want to make it worse. All he could do was be there for her through all of this, try and make it easier-

Or so he thought.

Because just before it was made official, he heard a voice telling the officiant to wait.

-----

Willie POV

…

Willie hated his suit.

It was stunning, of course. But it was all wrong. The tucked shirt was too tight, and the cufflinks on his jacket were too stiff. The tie around his neck felt like it was suffocating him, even though he could breathe fine.

His shaking hands refused to obey when he tried to adjust his tie, and he finally sat back down.

He felt Alex’s arms wrap around him from behind, and he immediately calmed at the touch. Alex’s head found his shoulder. Willie smiled softly as he turned around.

“Hey, Lex,” he whispered. He leaned up to give him a kiss.

“Hey,” Alex replied with a smile. “You okay?”

“No, you?”

“No.” They both smiled again, but the sadness laced in was tangible.

“We’ll be okay,” Willie finally said. “Right?”

“Yeah, we will.” Willie melted at the certainty in Alex’s voice.

“The wedding is just for show,” he added. “Julie and I have talked about it a million times. It’ll be complicated, with all the publicity, but we’ll be okay.”

“Okay.”

…

Willie’s spot in the ballroom was to the right of the altar, between Luke and Reggie. Erik, stationed to Luke’s left, caught his eye and gave an indecipherable look; somewhere between hope and sorrow.

Willie was silent, as were the rest of their group, groomsmen and bridesmaids alike. Willie straightened his back and adjusted his cuff, hating the stiff fabric.

He felt trapped. Even with the huge room, the cool, crisp Dahlian Autumn air, and the hum of excitement echoing around him, Willie felt like he was suffocating. The tightness in his chest, the pain every time he inhaled, it felt like when he was sixteen and had been struck by an out-of-control driver. He still remembered the blunt impact of metal going thirty miles per hour, the blinding headlights, the aching in his ribs.

This wasn’t very different, he supposed. There was a tight feeling in his chest that he couldn’t locate or breathe away, and the glowing chandeliers were far too bright for this grim situation.

In a way, he missed being a normal baker. He missed the routine of mixing batter and buttercream, decorating cakes and laughing in the sweet-smelling room.

But, then again, if he were still some random baker, he never would have met Alex. He never would’ve had the privilege of falling for him, never would’ve known the risk of reciprocating feelings forbidden by force.

He just wanted it to all be okay again.

When Alex entered the ballroom, Willie’s breath caught in his throat.

He was stunning.

The white suit jacket was perfectly tailored, golden accents lining the sleeves, collar, and chest. His perfectly done hair was sleek but lively, and he carried himself with confidence, even if it was just a facade trying not to crack.

When their eyes met, the gaze was full of all the words left unsaid, apologies and promises and hopes and dreams, all left to rust in the frozen air.

And then there was Julie, walking with such poise that it was impossible to believe she wasn’t already the queen, dressed in a simple but elegant gown with matching gold embroidery, golden and violet tulle laced into the skirt.

As they lied through the vows, Willie clenched his jaw and blinked back a tear, only letting it fall when his eyes opened in surprise, unprepared to hear such a direct denial and order.

“Wait.”

-----

Alex POV

…

The room was dark. Not pitch black, but enough to trick the eye out of sight.

Blank.

Quiet.

Alex was never scared of the dark as a kid. He was scared of the things that used it to hide. But now, he knew the only things hiding in the dark were his own thoughts.

His thoughts, and the crushing weight of silence, broken only by his shaking breath.

He felt like he was floating. The silence around him was deafening, no longer cut by his breathing, He was detached from the world, in an endless abyss of uncertainty and love and containment, shackled to the nothingness by chains of obligation.

He pulled at the iron chains on his wrists, trying endlessly to break free, trying, trying, trying, until the skin on his wrists had been rubbed raw, pain pulsing as the chains grew hotter, like coals in a fire.

Alex tried to scream, but he couldn’t find his voice. Every shout and cry, begging to be let out, every bit of sound was swallowed by the void, sentenced to an eternity searching for someone to hear them.

A voice pulled him out of his head, but it took a moment to register.

“…x?”

“Alex, can you hear me?”

Alex blearily opened his eyes to find that the room was not, in fact, dark. He was sitting in one of the prep rooms at the west wing of the ballroom, staring at the table.

“Alex?” He looked up to find Erik with his hands on his shoulders.

“Hi, sorry. Zoned out.”

“It’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Thanks.”

“The others are still finishing up getting ready, but we’ll have to go to the ballroom soon. I probably have to go now,” he added, glancing at his watch. “Will you be okay?”

“Yeah. See you soon.” Erik walked to the door, hesitating at the last second.

“Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I wish there was something else I could do.”

Alex nodded, unsure what to day. He felt pathetic.

Erik left.

…

Alex could hear the chatter of the crowd from the prep room, and it was too much for him to handle alone. He figured he should pay julie a visit in the other prep room.

Technically, he wasn’t allowed to. It was tradition for the groom not to see the bride until they were at the altar, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Besides, what were they going to do? Exile him?

He focused on the tapping of his shoes on the hard floor as he made his way to the other prep room, finally knocking.

“Come in,” Julie said. Her voice sounded authoritative; she was going to be a perfect queen.

Alex opened the door.

“Hey,” he said pathetically.

“Hey.” Julie stood up and wrapped him in a hug. He trembled, stiffening his shoulders to try and hide it.

“Here,” she said, and before Alex knew it, she’d sat him down in her chair and was wiping his tears away with a cold washcloth. He hadn’t even realized he’d been crying.

“Sorry.” He wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Don’t be. It’s okay to be upset.” Alex nodded, swallowing.

“You look beautiful,” he finally said. It was true; her white silky dress fit her perfectly, with elegant off-shoulder straps and a small v-neck as the dress hugged her and then flared at her waist. Golden embroidery matching his own decorated the bodice, and violet dahlias lined the bottom of the layered skirt.

“So do you,” she said with a smile. He grinned.

“I’m technically not supposed to be here,” he admitted, “but the guys had to go get ready, and I couldn’t just sit there alone.”

“I know the feeling,” Julie agreed. “And I know I’ve said it a million times, but I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.”

“Neither do you.”

“I know. I just… I wish I had a magic wand that could fix everything. I wish we could choose what we do with our lives, choose who we love for once. Or at least do it without committing treason.”

“Yeah, treason isn’t high on my to-do list.” Julie laughed, but Alex knew it was a facade.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. Alex sighed.

“Not much else to talk about. You?”

“Not much else. How’s Willie doing?” Alex looked down.

“He’s trying to keep up the act. You know how he is. He tries to be lighthearted and upbeat, but he’s trying to stay afloat.” Alex felt so bad for him. Willie had been nothing but kind, loving, and supportive through an impossible situation. He didn’t deserve any of this.

“Luke is sulking and blaming himself,” he added, knowing Julie would be wondering about her idiot of a boyfriend.

“But it isn’t his fault!” Julie protested.

“Oh, I know,” Alex agreed. “I’ve told him as much. But he’s annoyingly stubborn. He feels like he screwed everything up.”

“He’s an idiot.” Alex laughed for real that time. He’d almost forgotten the feeling.

“Yeah, I’m beginning to question your taste in guys.”

“For real. How I fell in love with such a dumbass, I’ll never know.”

“I mean, he’s cute,” Alex reasoned. “He’s got that going for him. Doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together, but hey, at least he’s cute.” Julie burst out laughing, as did Alex.

“I’m pretty sure our entire group shares a brain cell, and Carrie is the only one who ever has it.”

“You’re probably right.” They sat for a moment before Alex sighed.

“I should probably go,” he groaned. They’ll want me in the ballroom soon.”

“Probably. Unless you feel like faking your death last-minute.”

“Tempting,” he admitted, “but I think now we just have to grit our teeth and wait for it to be over.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”

As he closed the door, Alex sighed and wiped his eyes.

There was nothing to do now but wait it out.

…

As he waited outside the ballroom, Alex listened to the muffled voices of the guests. He hated this whole situation, but something about hearing people calmed him, which he never would have expected in a million years.

And yet, as he heard the laugh of a child, playful arguments between friends and couples, it reminded him that everyone in that room had their own life, just as complex as his. Everyone was going through things.

The thought made him feel a little less alone.

“Mijo,” Ray said from behind him. Alex hadn’t even heard him enter. “They’re ready for you.” He took a shaky breath.

“Okay.”

As he stood and walked to the huge, wooden doors, he hesitated. Ray put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I did everything I could.”

“I know. Thanks.” He tried again to bring himself to open the door, but he just couldn’t.

Without thinking, he tackled Ray in a hug. He was worried he’d done something wrong; he’d just hugged the king without warning. But Ray wrapped his arms around him immediately, and Alex did his best not to cry.

He felt safe. Warm. Protected.

Was this what a dad’s hug felt like?

He didn’t have time to dwell on that.

When he pulled away from the hug and met Ray’s eyes, Ray nodded.

“It’ll be okay,” Alex decided.

Then, without hesitation, he pushed open the ballroom doors.

…

Alex could feel people’s eyes on him the moment he stepped into the ballroom. But he squared his shoulders and walked with authority, just like he’d been taught.

His heart broke when he met Willie’s eyes. His hair was pulled back into a bun, suit tailored to perfection, but it was all wrong, It wasn’t him. Alex wanted to cry, to run to him and hold him, but he couldn’t.

It’ll be okay, Willie mouthed. Alex gave a small smile and nod, finally stopping at the altar.

Now, he just had to wait for Julie.

Then the nightmare would be over.

He stood up straight and closed his eyes, waiting for the sound of the doors opening.

Then, far too soon, there they were.

As Julie pushed open the doors, standing tall and strong, she looked like the queen she was always meant to be.

Ray followed her in and took her arm, handing her a bouquet of dahlias, roses, and orchids, all wrapped in white silk.

She looked beautiful.

And yet, Alex could see how forced her smile was, how she inevitably let it fall as she walked up next to him.

Ray looked at him and nodded. Alex nodded back, and Ray walked back to the side.

Alex’s eyes flicked to his parents.

They were in the first row, both dressed to perfection, sat with poise. His father, Xavier, wore a pressed suit with two medals pinned to it, his golden Tamborian crown at its place on its head, where it had been for twenty years.

His mother, Claire, wore a pale gold dress with silver threads, like a combination of moonlight and a sun ray. Her crown matched his father’s.

Both of them looked so damn proud of themselves.

His father’s piercing blue stare met his, and there was no love in Xavier’s eyes. Alex could tell what he wanted to say.

Don’t screw up.

He wanted to yell. Didn’t he get a choice? Why did his parents, the people who were supposed to love him no matter what, see fit to marry him off?

Some parents they were.

But next to them was his sister. Ava.

She looked beautiful.

Her dirty blonde hair was cut in a jagged bob, gently styled with a bit of flair. Winged eyeliner accentuated her grey eyes, and her aqua gown wasn’t too fancy. The layered skirt was manageable, and she had a white denim jacket with gold buttons over her shoulders.

Alex bit back a grin when he saw the toes of her Doc Martens peeking out from underneath her dress, and was even more pleased with his father’s disproving glare.

As the officiant walked to the altar, Alex’s jaw clenched, but he relaxed his hands as he took Julie’s.

“We are gathered here today,” said the officiant, “to bear witness to a beautiful, historic union. A union of peace, of harmony, of love.”

Yeah, right.

“Today marks the union of two countries, two people. Her royal highness, Princess Julie Molina of Dahlia, has grown up into a strong young woman, one led by her father, King Ray. She will soon ascend to the throne, and there is no doubt in my mind that she will lead us into the future.

“His royal highness, Prince Alexander Mercer of Tambor, has been a close friend of hers for years, and their relationship will no doubt hold strong, as will our countries. Prince Alexander has stood alongside Tambor as his parents, King Xavier and Queen Claire, have held a righteous, unshakeable reign.

“And now, this wedding seals an unshakeable bond between our two countries. Shall we move onto the vows?”

Alex met Julie’s eyes with a sad smile.

“Alexander Mercer, son of Queen Claire and King Xavier, do you take Julie to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to stand by her in sickness and in health, and aid her as she ascends to the throne, no matter what happens? And do you swear to hold true to her, as she would for you, as a faithful ally, confidante, friend, and husband?”

Alex hoped the tear rolling down his cheek would be mistaken for one of joy as he swallowed, the pit in his stomach growing deeper and more hollow.

“I do.”

“And do you, Princess Julie Molina, daughter of King Ray and the late Queen Rose, heiress to the Dahlian throne, take Alexander to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to care for him in sickness and in health, to trust him with your life as he would do for you? As you ascend to the throne, do you swear to care not just for your people, as the compassionate queen, but also for your betrothed, as a loving friend and wife?”

Alex looked at Julie, her brown eyes filled with sorrow and grief and anger, but above all, filled with hope and compassion for her people.

“I do.”

The officiant smiled, and Alex wished he could do the same.

“Wonderful. If anyone here today can see just reason why these two should not be wed, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

Five agonizing, silent seconds passed. Alex wished someone would speak, let go of their peace and intervene.

But nobody did.

“Then here, under the witness of citizens Dahlian and Tamborian alike, I now pronounce you husband and-“

“Wait.”

Alex’s heart dropped and soared at the same time.

Gasps echoed throughout the crowd, and Julie seemed confident as ever as she let go of Alex’s hands and turned to face the onlooking people.

“As the rising queen of Dahlia, I have spent my life advocating for peace, equality, and freedom among all our people,” she said. Alex’s grin widened.

“Neither Alex nor I wanted this marriage. We care about each other, yes. He's one of my best friends, and will be for the rest of my life. But he loves someone else,” she added, “as do I.

“Dahlia and Tambor have been allies since our foundation, and we have always valued the peace and freedom of our citizens above all else. So why, may I ask, was an arranged marriage necessary?

“King Xavier and Queen Claire of Tambor raised the idea of an arranged marriage to us and my father two years ago. We all protested. But when it was passed by the Dahlian council, there wasn’t much else we could do.

“I accept that, as a leader, I have duties and obligations to my people. But I will not let who I marry be one of them, and nor will Alex.”

Alex couldn’t stop smiling as he looked at Julie. He remembered when they first met years ago, the little girl with frizzy hair and missing front teeth. Even then, she’d been so strong, so passionate.

And now? Now, she was all that and more. She was a powerful, intelligent woman born to lead, to stand tall and make her voice heard.

“No,” he agreed. “I won’t.”

“This is nonsense,” interrupted Xavier furiously. “They don’t know what they’re talking about, they’re just teenagers. Continue with the vows,” he commanded.

“You are in my kingdom,” Julie reminded him tersely, “and while your title certainly demands respect, you are not in power here. And, if I may, if we are just teenagers who can’t even understand what we’re talking about, why should we be married off?”

Murmurs of agreement rang out through the crowd.

“Alex, sweetie,” Claire began. “We want only the best for you-“

“That’s a lie and you know it,” he snapped. He’d had enough. “Mom, you’ve always been a compassionate queen. But you never cared about what I wanted, you cared about what would help your reputation.”

More gasps rang out through the crowd. Alex knew he was being harsh, but it was true. And he was done letting his parents disrespect him.

“Look, mom, dad, Dahlia and Tambor are each other’s strongest allies. We always have been. You know that. The wedding was never about allyship, it was about control.”

“You are acting extremely ungrateful,” his dad snapped. Alex rolled his eyes. “What woman could you, an immature nineteen-year-old, be so gone for that you would refuse marriage to a princess?”

“Who I love is none of your business. I don’t owe you anything.”

That aside,” Julie added, “neither of us would reveal who they were without being sure that they were okay with it. I am speaking out against this wedding because I want no part of it,” Julie reminded him.

“Nor do I,” Alex interjected. It felt powerful to admit it, to tell the truth so openly.

“Exactly. Alex and I are both okay with saying this. We both love other people. But those other people have the right to privacy, if not under basic decency, under the Dahlian constitution. I would know,” she said before his dad could reply. “I was there when it was revised three years ago.”

“And would you be okay with them revealing themselves?” Xavier retorted. “I assume they’re in this room. Would you have them reveal their identities, or are you scared of public revolt?”

“You know what,” Alex said, “I would be okay with it. But even if I weren’t, wanting privacy doesn’t mean you’re scared, nor does it mean you have ill intent. It’s just choosing what of your personal life to share.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Julie agreed. “And, for the record, we aren’t scared. Not anymore. If we were, we wouldn’t be coming out at all. Us being okay with going public about our side of the story doesn’t mean the other people involved are obligated to.”

His mom was pale as a sheet, and his dad looked like he was going to explode. Alex almost felt bad. But then he remembered all the times they’d belittled him, tried to control every part of his life, and reminded himself that this was him taking control.

“King Ray,” Xavier said smoothly, like he was trying not to lose it, “surely you cannot be okay with this. Your daughter-“

“My daughter is a strong, independent, intelligent woman,” Ray interrupted, and Alex beamed. “She is a leader, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to stop her from doing just that: leading. She is the future queen of Dahlia. She has every right to decide who to marry, if at all. What I’m not okay with is the fact that you are so hellbent on controlling her, not to mention your own adult son.”

Xavier stammered furiously, one arm held by Claire, who seemed like she was trying not to pass out. Alex had to resist the urge to hug Ray for standing up for him.

“Do you really want to know who’s stopping your precious wedding,” chimed in Luke’s voice from behind him. Alex whipped around to see both him and Willie stepping forward, looking confident as ever.

“Do tell,” Xavier said with a hysterical laugh.

“We are,” Willie informed him.

Alex just about broke down crying. He was so happy, so proud, so enamored, everything inside of him was bursting with elation as Willie stepped forward and took his hand.

The crowd started clapping.

It was hesitant applause at first, led by a few, but soon the entire audience was on their feet.

“It’s our lives,” Alex shouted over the excited cheers, surprising himself with the words but knowing they were truer than they’d ever been. “We get to lead them!”

“Damn right we do!” Julie agreed. Luke and Willie laughed in amazement.

“I beg to differ,” Xavier screamed hoarsely. The entire crowd booed.

“Yes, you heard me! With royalty comes rules. I. Beg. To Differ .”

“Then beg,” Julie snapped back, and Alex gasped with laughter, wishing he’d been the one to say that, especially after seeing the look on his dad’s face.

Willie and Alex held up their clasped hands, and Alex ignored the horrified glares from his parents, instead focusing on Ava’s proud smile and applause.

“I, Princess Julie Molina,” Julie declared as the crowd quieted, “do not take Prince Alexander to be my husband.” Alex grinned; he never thought he’d be so happy to hear a denied wedding vow.

“Instead, I take my life into my hands and give him his. Instead, I swear on my very life to lead you into an era of prosperity, livelihood, and health, as my father has done.

“As he completes his reign, I choose to stand tall and step forward, whenever that time may be.”

“If I may,” Ray announced, stepping forward to the altar. “Julie has trained her entire life to be a leader, and she has done that and so much more. Since she was little, she has had a passion for life, for love, for hope. She has taught me and so many others to stand tall even in the face of adversity. And, given her display of bravery, intelligence, and pure nerve, as well as the prepared ballroom, I see no reason why that moment should be delayed.” Alex was practically vibrating with excitement. He knew where this was going.

After Julie and Ray had exchanged a few words of confirmation, she knelt down as he took off the crown.

As Ray placed the crown on her head, Alex clapped with the rest of the crowd, even his disgruntled parents.

“Your majesty,” Luke said with a cocky grin. He bowed, and Alex quickly followed suit. Soon enough, the entire ballroom was dipped in a bow, pulsing with respect and hope.

…

The dancing started soon afterwards. Alex was content to just hold Willie and sway to the music.

“We did it,” he said softly, gazing into Willie’s deep brown eyes.

“We did,” he agreed. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m happy for us,” Alex decided.

“You’re such a dork.”

“I know.”

‘It’s part of why I love you,” he whispered. Alex’s heart soared, dancing in the constellations.

“I love you too.”

…

“Julie?” Alex asked, grinning as she laughed at Carlos for some silly antics.

“Ye-“ before she could finish, Alex tackled her in a hug, holding her tight.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” she said. “You’ve been an amazing friend throughout all of this.”

“So have you. I’m just…” he tried to find the words but just couldn’t. Nothing seemed to be enough, not to describe how he felt, nor how amazing she was, how selfless everything she had done had been.

“I know. I don’t have the words either.”

“Yeah,” he sighed with a smile.

“So… will you be going back to Tambor? Because if you want to, I completely understand, but I’d love for you to stay here in the palace.” Alex shook his head.

“Oh, I’m staying. Don’t worry,” he said, elbowing her in the side. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

-----

Julie POV

…

Julie sat on a soft, cushioned chair in a small room next to the renovated ballroom, staring at herself in the mirror. Flynn and Carrie sat next to her on a leather ottoman, holding her right hand with theirs. Mira stood behind her, fixing her hair until the braids were perfectly woven from her temples to the base of her head, the rest of her hair gently coiling in a poof at the base of her neck.

She thought she would’ve cried; this wedding was the opposite of what she and Alex wanted. But her eyes were stone dry, her makeup untouched by what she felt. Mira’s hands fell to her shoulders, gently tracing circles along her skin.

“Thank you,” she said. “Mira, this is amazing.” She tried to smile, really, she did, but her face fell.

“Of course,” Mira whispered. “Jules, it’ll be okay. I promise.”

“No it won’t,” she replied quietly. “But I’ll live. We’ll manage.” Mira nodded.

Flynn sighed and wrapped her arm around Julie. Julie put her head on her shoulder.

She could’ve stayed there forever. Even though Flynn’s shoulder wasn’t exactly comfortable (seriously, how was she so bony?), it was preferable to just about anything else at the moment. Here, she was safe. She wasn’t being forced into a wedding with one of her best friends. She wasn’t being pulled away from the person she loved. Here, resting on Flynn’s shoulder, she had Flynn, Mira, and Carrie by her side, holding her close and whispering reassurances in her ear. Here, she was safe.

A knock on the door pulled Julie out of her trance.

“Yes?” she asked.

“It’s me, sweetheart,” came the choked voice of her father. Mira looked at her and when she nodded, went to open the door.

“Hi, dad.” Ray scooped her up in a hug, burying his head in her shoulder. She held on as tight as she could.

“I’m so sorry, mija. I did everything I could.”

“I know,” she whispered. “Thank you for trying.” Ray inhaled like he was going to say something else, but just held her closer.

Julie wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but it certainly wasn’t long enough. She immediately felt colder when he let go.

“You look beautiful,” Ray told her. She gave the most convincing smile she could.

“Thanks,” she said as she twirled. She hadn’t been hopeful, but Mira was some sort of sorceress. In a matter of days, she’d turned a heap of white silk and satin from a mess of pins into one of the most gorgeous dresses Julie had ever laid eyes on.

The off-shoulder straps met under her collarbone, leaving a small v-neck for the top of the dress. The slim fit was comfortable and elegant, flaring at the waist into a beautiful layered skirt with transparent violet tulle woven in. Golden embroidery shone on her shoulders and chest, and the purple dahlias that had been subtly added to the end of the skirt added the perfect amount of flair.

She’d refused a veil, despite traditions; her wedding day wasn’t the day she stopped hiding. She’d never hidden herself, and didn’t intend to start now.

“It’ll be over soon,” he told her. She nodded.

“I’m sorry this has stressed you out so much.” Julie sat back down and fiddled with the hem of her skirt, ignoring Mira’s disapproving look.

“Mija, if anything, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of this.” Ray put his hand on her shoulder.

“I know. But I’ve been told since I was a kid, being a princess comes with responsibilities. It’s amazing, being able to lead and help people the best I can, never having to worry about money, but there are always drawbacks. I feel bad complaining. So many people have it so much worse.”

“Dahlia is reaching zero homelessness sooner than projected,” he reminded her. “At this rate, we’ll be completely housed by Spring. And,” he added, “our wealth equality is some of the best in the world.”

“And that’s incredible! But I’m still incredibly lucky. I’m healthy, privileged, and one of the leaders of a wealthy, harmonized nation. That’s not to mention people in other places around the world, who have to worry about having food on the table or being killed for who they are. Just because we’re doing well doesn’t mean the whole world is.”

“Julie,” Ray interrupted before she could spiral. “You’ve always been so passionate about helping other people. It’s one of the things that will make you an amazing leader. But you can’t do everything at once. And even if you could, having a better situation than other people doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to be in pain.”

“Yeah,” Carrie chimed in. “Think of it this way: if you have the flu, but someone else has the flu and a broken leg, that doesn’t mean you don’t have the flu. It still sucks, and just because someone else has a situation that objectively sucks more doesn’t mean your situation is awesome. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“Thanks,” she sighed. “I get it, and I really appreciate it. I just feel like I have so much going for me that this is trivial in comparison.”

“Do you think that Alex being upset is trivial, given his situation?”

“Of course not! He-“

“Has the right to be upset,” Carrie finished for her. “Exactly. He has privilege too. So why does he get to be upset but you don’t?” Julie didn’t have an answer.

“I don’t know,” she finally said.

“You hold yourself to such a high standard, Julie,” Flynn added. “You’re so much stronger than I ever could be, but you need to allow yourself to accept that this sucks. Sometimes, no matter how good your life may be, things suck. Just try to remember that, okay?”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll try. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

She felt like there was something else she should say, but she couldn’t find the words. So she stared at the mirror, busying herself with the task of making sure everything looked good and ready for the wedding of hell.

…

After Ray had left to prepare everything else and greet guests, Flynn, Carrie, and Mira had to go and change. They were Julie’s bridesmaids. She and Alex had decided not to have a Maid of Honor or Best Man, because neither of them felt that they could choose. Everyone in their group had helped them so much, been there for them the entire time. It wouldn’t have been fair to honor any above the others.

Julie sat alone in the prep room, surrounded by tubes of makeup and baskets of accessories, none of which she touched.

Someone knocked on the door, and she sat up straight and put on her professional voice.

“Come in.”

Alex opened the door, and Julie could see that he’d been crying. It wasn’t glaringly obvious, but his eyes were a bit red and swollen.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” Julie stood up and wrapped him in a hug. He trembled, stiffening his shoulders to try and hide it.

“Here,” she said, bringing him to her chair and sitting him down. She took a washcloth and ran it under cold water, squeezing it out and gently dabbing at his eyes, tear streaks but a distant memory, bloodshot eyes calmed.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s okay to be upset.” Alex nodded, swallowing.

“You look beautiful,” he finally said.

“So do you,” she said with a smile. His perfectly tailored suit had the typical white shirt and black pants, but the jacket was white with matching golden embroidery on the cuffs. Alex smiled.

“I’m technically not supposed to be here,” he admitted, “but the guys had to go get ready, and I couldn’t just sit there alone.”

“I know the feeling,” Julie agreed. “And I know I’ve said it a million times, but I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.”

“Neither do you.”

“I know. I just… I wish I had a magic wand that could fix everything. I wish we could choose what we do with our lives, choose who we love for once. Or at least do it without committing treason.”

“Yeah, treason isn’t high on my to-do list.” Julie gave a halfhearted laugh, but her smile fell.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alex sighed.

“Not much else to talk about. You?”

“Not much else,” she agreed. “How’s Willie doing?” He looked down.

“He’s trying to keep up the act. You know how he is. He tries to be lighthearted and upbeat, but he’s trying to stay afloat. And Luke is sulking and blaming himself.”

“But it isn’t his fault!” Julie protested.

“Oh, I know,” Alex agreed. “I’ve told him as much. But he’s annoyingly stubborn. He feels like he screwed everything up.”

“He’s an idiot.” Alex laughed for real that time.

“Yeah, I’m beginning to question your taste in guys.”

“For real. How I fell in love with such a dumbass, I’ll never know.”

“I mean, he’s cute,” Alex reasoned. “He’s got that going for him. Doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together, but hey, at least he’s cute.” Julie burst out laughing.

“I’m pretty sure our entire group shares a brain cell, and Carrie is the only one who ever has it.”

“You’re probably right.” They sat for a moment before Alex sighed.

“I should probably go,” he groaned. They’ll want me in the ballroom soon.”

“Probably. Unless you feel like faking your death last-minute.”

“Tempting,” he admitted, “but I think now we just have to grit our teeth and wait for it to be over.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, Julie was alone.

…

The incessant chatter of the crowd was white noise behind Julie’s humming brain. It felt like a radio that, no matter which way you turned the antenna, only blared static.

Her dad’s voice snapped her out of it.

“Mija?”

She hadn’t registered that she’d been walking to the ballroom, but there she was, with a huge pair of gilded oak double doors protecting her from the choirs of hell.

“Mija?” Ray asked again.

“Hi. Sorry. Zoned out.”

“It’s okay. Julie, I…” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m so sorry.” She looked up and saw his eyes shining with regret and sorrow and anger.

“I know,” Julie whispered. “Thanks for trying.”

Ray scooped her up in a big hug, and she let herself soak up the warmth and relish it while it lasted. Maybe she could just stay there forever instead.

“You look beautiful,” he remarked as he let her go. Julie smiled and twirled.

“Mira really is amazing,” she agreed. “I had my doubts, but she somehow turned a heap of lace and silk into a dress.”

“You could say she’s a Mira-cle worker,” Ray quipped with a grin and a wink. Julie groaned, but couldn’t suppress her smile.

“Now I know where Reggie gets it.”

“He learned from the best,” Ray agreed.

Julie’s face fell.

“I have to go in, don’t I?” She already knew the answer, but her father’s resigned nod crushed her.

“Do you want me to walk you up?” he asked.

“Yes please,” she whispered.

“Okay.”

“But,” she added, “I want to open the door. I need to show them that I’m a leader, not just a girl in a dress.”

“Done,” he agreed. “You are a leader. And if they can’t see that, they’re blind.” Julie smiled for real that time, squared her shoulders, and finally pushed open the doors.

I’m a leader, she reminded herself as she took the bouquet from her dad and took his arm. They can’t tell me who I am.

And without her even prompting it, the gears in her head started turning.

…

Alex’s hands were cold and clammy, and Julie could see that his jaw was clenched. She tightened her grip on his hands, gentle but firm, making sure to pull him to reality. It seemed to work, too, because his jaw softened and he took a breath.

Julie finally risked a glance to Luke, and he gave a weak smile, which she did her best to return. His hazel eyes were full of love, anger, and melancholy, all warring behind earthy windows.

Julie looked back to Alex, wishing the officiant would shut up as soon as he started speaking.

“We are gathered here today,” said the officiant, “to bear witness to a beautiful, historic union. A union of peace, of harmony, of love.”

Yeah, right.

“Today marks the union of two countries, two people. Her royal highness, Princess Julie Molina of Dahlia, has grown up into a strong young woman, one led by her father, King Ray. She will soon ascend to the throne, and there is no doubt in my mind that she will lead us into the future.

“His royal highness, Prince Alexander Mercer of Tambor, has been a close friend of hers for years, and their relationship will no doubt hold strong, as will our countries. Prince Alexander has stood alongside Tambor as his parents, King Xavier and Queen Claire, have held a righteous, unshakeable reign.

“And now, this wedding seals an unshakeable bond between our two countries. Shall we move onto the vows?”

Julie looked back up to Alex, hating the resigned hopelessness in his eyes, even more so than the tear rolling down his cheek.

“Alexander Mercer, son of Queen Claire and King Xavier, do you take Julie to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to stand by her in sickness and in health, and aid her as she ascends to the throne, no matter what happens? And do you swear to hold true to her, as she would for you, as a faithful ally, confidante, friend, and husband?”

Julie closed her eyes as Alex tried to speak, finally managing an “I do.”

“And do you, Princess Julie Molina, daughter of King Ray and the late Queen Rose, heiress to the Dahlian throne, take Alexander to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to care for him in sickness and in health, to trust him with your life as he would do for you? As you ascend to the throne, do you swear to care not just for your people, as the compassionate queen, but also for your betrothed, as a loving friend and wife?

No, she wanted to say. I do not.

But when she heard the hushed whispers in the crowd, laced with excitement, when she remembered the bright eyes of civilians as the announcement of a union had been released, she bit back the truth.

“I do.”

The officiant smiled, and Julie wished she could do the same.

“Wonderful. If anyone here today can see just reason why these two should not be wed, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

The gears in her head were turning into overdrive, grinding thoughts and memories and emotions into her head and heart like an overloaded system.

Flashes of hazel eyes, crinkled with laughter, shining with hope, puffy with tears in the rain.

Blips of hands interlocked, the quiet voices of a baker and a prince, glances between a princess and a guard.

Voices that she could hear like it was happening before her.

“Actually, I win.”

“Hey there, boss.”

“You’re a dork.”

“Not a fan of coffee?”

“Understandable, have a nice day.”

“Technically, you’re not a trainee.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

“You’ll never lose me.”

Everything played in Julie’s mind on repeat, unshakeable and incessant, like the rushing of a river in Spring.

And then she heard the officiant’s voice.

“Then here, under the witness of citizens Dahlian and Tamborian alike, I now pronounce you husband and-“

“Wait.”

She’d known that words had power, but never in a million years would Julie have guessed that one word could be so big.

“As the rising queen of Dahlia,” she began as she let go of Alex and looked out at the shocked crowd, “I have spent my life advocating for peace, equality, and freedom among all our people.” She took a deep breath, catching her father’s eye, heart soaring with the pride radiating off of him.

“Neither Alex nor I wanted this marriage,” she continued. “ We care about each other, yes. He's one of my best friends, and will be for the rest of my life. But he loves someone else,” she added, “as do I.

“Dahlia and Tambor have been allies since our foundation, and we have always valued the peace and freedom of our citizens above all else. So why, may I ask, was an arranged marriage necessary?

“King Xavier and Queen Claire of Tambor raised the idea of an arranged marriage to us and my father two years ago. We all protested. But when it was passed by the Dahlian council, there wasn’t much else we could do.

“I accept that, as a leader, I have duties and obligations to my people. But I will not let who I marry be one of them, and nor will Alex.”

“No,” Alex agreed. “I won’t.” She turned to him, a huge smile on her face, heart racing.

We’re doing this.

“This is nonsense,” interrupted Xavier furiously. “They don’t know what they’re talking about, they’re just teenagers. Continue with the vows,” he commanded.

“You are in my kingdom,” Julie reminded him tersely, shoulders squared and voice echoing with authority, “and while your title certainly demands respect, you are not in power here. And, if I may, if we are just teenagers who can’t even understand what we’re talking about, why should we be married off?”

Murmurs of agreement rang out through the crowd, and each one flew into her like lightning bolts of confidence.

“Alex, sweetie,” Queen Claire began. “We want only the best for you-“

“That’s a lie and you know it,” he snapped. Julie was surprised; she’d never heard Alex snap like that. But she let him speak.

“Mom, you’ve always been a compassionate queen.,” Alex said with a sigh. “ But you never cared about what I wanted, you cared about what would help your reputation.”

More gasps rang out through the crowd. Julie didn’t budge, holding her post beside him.

“Look, mom, dad, Dahlia and Tambor are each other’s strongest allies. We always have been. You know that. The wedding was never about allyship, it was about control.”

“You are acting extremely ungrateful,” his dad snapped. Julie raised her eyebrows and took a step forward, suddenly feeling protective of her friend. “What woman could you, an immature nineteen-year-old, be so gone for that you would refuse marriage to a princess?” Xavier interrogated.

“Who I love is none of your business. I don’t owe you anything.” Julie bit back a huge grin; even though she wanted nothing more than to snap back at Alex’s parents too, she had a feeling it wouldn’t be appropriate.

“That aside,” Julie added, “neither of us would reveal who they were without being sure that they were okay with it. I am speaking out against this wedding because I want no part of it,” Julie reminded him.

“Nor do I,” Alex interjected.

“Exactly. Alex and I are both okay with saying this. We both love other people. But those other people have the right to privacy, if not under basic decency, under the Dahlian constitution. I would know,” she said before Xavier could reply. “I was there when it was revised three years ago.”

“And would you be okay with them revealing themselves?” Xavier retorted. “I assume they’re in this room. Would you have them reveal their identities, or are you scared of public revolt?”

“You know what,” Alex said, “I would be okay with it. But even if I weren’t, wanting privacy doesn’t mean you’re scared, nor does it mean you have ill intent. It’s just choosing what of your personal life to share.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Julie agreed. “And, for the record, we aren’t scared. Not anymore. If we were, we wouldn’t be coming out at all. Us being okay with going public about our side of the story doesn’t mean the other people involved are obligated to.”

Claire was pale as a sheet, and Xavier looked like he was going to explode. Ray, however, was glowing with pride.

“King Ray,” Xavier said smoothly, like he was trying not to lose it, “surely you cannot be okay with this. Your daughter-“

“My daughter is a strong, independent, intelligent woman,” Ray interrupted. “She is a leader, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to stop her from doing just that: leading. She is the future queen of Dahlia. She has every right to decide who to marry, if at all. What I’m not okay with is the fact that you are so hellbent on controlling her, not to mention your own adult son.”

Xavier stammered furiously, one arm held by Claire, who seemed like she was trying not to pass out.

“Do you really want to know who’s stopping your precious wedding,” chimed in Luke’s voice from behind her. Julie whipped around to see both him and Willie stepping forward.

“Do tell,” Xavier said with a hysterical laugh.

“We are,” Willie informed him. And before Julie knew it, Luke was by her side, clasping her hand with his. Willie marched next to Alex and did the same.

And, to Julie’s shock, the crowd started clapping.

It was hesitant applause at first, led by a few, but soon the entire audience was on their feet.

“It’s our lives,” Alex shouted over the excited cheers. “We get to lead them!”

“Damn right we do!” Julie agreed. Luke and Willie laughed in amazement.

“I beg to differ,” Xavier screamed hoarsely. The entire crowd booed.

“Yes, you heard me! With royalty comes rules. I. Beg. To Differ .”

“Then beg,” Julie snapped back, and the shouting of the crowd was deafening as people “OOOH”- ed, laughed, and generally lost their shit.

Willie and Alex held up their clasped hands, and Julie quickly did the same, holding up Luke’s.

“I, Princess Julie Molina,” she declared as the crowd quieted, bubbles of elation radiating through the room, “do not take Prince Alexander to be my husband. Instead, I take my life into my hands and give him his. Instead, I swear on my very life to lead you into an era of prosperity, livelihood, and health, as my father has done.

“As he completes his reign, I choose to stand tall and step forward, whenever that time may be.”

“If I may,” Ray announced, stepping forward to the altar. “Julie has trained her entire life to be a leader, and she has done that and so much more. Since she was little, she has had a passion for life, for love, for hope. She has taught me and so many others to stand tall even in the face of adversity. And, given her display of bravery, intelligence, and pure nerve, as well as the prepared ballroom, I see no reason why that moment should be delayed.” Julie’s heart soared, eyes widening.

“Papa, are you sure?” she asked him quietly.

“I am. Are you?” Julie took a breath and let go of Luke’s hand, turning toward the gleeful crowd as she knelt down on one knee, her father standing beside her as he took off his crown.

“The responsibilities will be challenging, but I have no doubt that they will be handled gracefully. Heavy lies the crown, yes, but strong is she who embraces it, not with hunger for power, but with compassion.

“Citizens of Dahlia, may I present to you, her Royal Majesty, Queen Julie Molina.”

As Ray placed the crown on her head, Julie’s heart set with determination. She rose, back straight, looking out to the crowd.

“Your majesty,” Luke said with a cocky grin from next to her. She turned to him and he dipped in a bow, eyes laced with love and respect.

Then, before she knew it, Alex was bowing too, soon followed by Willie, Flynn, Mira, Carrie, Erik, Reggie, and the rest of the crowd.

Her father.

Ray stood before her, smiling with the power and pride of all the stars. As he bowed, Julie smiled and knelt down, taking his hand and pulling him back up into a hug.

“I love you, papa,” she whispered.

“I love you too.”

…

The dancing started soon afterwards. Claire and Xavier kept to themselves, sitting at a table in the corner and ignoring glares from the crowd, and Julie danced with Luke without fear of being seen. Alex and Willie held each other, swaying to the music, not even talking. Just smiling.

As soon as she and Luke separated to dance with others, Reggie tackled her in a hug.

“Reggie!” she shrieked, stabilizing herself so she didn’t fall over.

“WE DID IT!” he exclaimed, and Julie couldn’t contain her laughter.

“We did!”

“I’m so proud of you,” Reggie told her. Julie wrapped him in a hug.

“Thanks. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, to be honest.”

“That just makes what you did even more awesome, though! In the face of danger, the honorable Julie Molina made her move and took her life back into her own hands!” Julie cackled.

“I’m not a TV character, Reg.”

“Are you sure? Because you’d be a pretty damn awesome one.”

“Well, then you’d be my amazing brother,” she said, deciding to humor him. Reggie beamed.

“Oh, speaking of brothers-“

“JULIE!” came Carlos’s excited voice from behind her, and before she knew it, she was being tackled by a skinny fourteen-year-old prince.

“Carlos!”

“Dude. You’re the freaking Queen now!”

“I know! It’s kinda freaking me out, but in a good way.”

“Duh. Also, I expect lots of queenly presents. And a shoutout.”

“A shoutout?” she inquired. “Carlos, you already have millions of middle school girls simping over your Instagram page.”

“Just trying to get my name out there,” he reasoned. Julie picked him up despite his protests and nods to his left, where Julie spotted Annie Danforth-Evans laughing. She grinned.

“Man, Carlos is so adorable and little and smitten?” Julie said loudly. And in situational perfection, the only person who seemed to hear her was Annie.

“You’re the worst,” Carlos informed her as he wiggled out of her arms. Julie laughed and let him go.

“I’m not little,” he said to Annie once he reached her, puffing out his chest as if to prove his point.

“Julie?” Alex asked, interrupting her laughs at her brother. She turned and faced him, mirroring his smile.

“Ye-“ she couldn’t finish before being tackled in a crushing hug.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” she said. “You’ve been an amazing friend throughout all of this.”

“So have you. I’m just…”

“I know. I don’t have the words either.”

“Yeah,” he sighed with a smile.

“So… will you be going back to Tambor? Because if you want to, I completely understand, but I’d love for you to stay here in the palace.”

“Oh, I’m staying. Don’t worry,” he said, elbowing her in the side. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

…

As the sun rose, the last of the guests went home, and Julie stood on her balcony, wrapped in a white dress of rebellion, graced by the warm light of a new day, a new era.

Luke’s hand on her shoulder anchored her to reality, followed by Alex’s on her other shoulder, Flynn’s arm around her waist, and Reggie ruffling her hair. Julie took a deep breath of the cool, crisp air, closing her eyes and letting her heart set.

This wasn’t the end, it was the beginning of something wonderful and new.

So as she stepped into the next part of her life, she reminded herself to stand tall, and remember that she wasn’t doing this alone.

[janetbrown711]

"We'll figure this out" - Yakko

Yakko always knew he had a silver tongue, but he honestly hadn’t expected this. 

Somehow, Yakko had not only convinced King Salazar to spare him and his siblings because they “knew a secret about the Wishing Star”, but he had also convinced the king to make them a full-on feast for them in his dining room. Yakko honestly had no idea the king would fulfill his request but was overjoyed that he did. 

Wakko and Dot hadn’t seen that much food in their whole lives, and were eating like madmen. Yakko was delighted to see how happy it made them, and Yakko knew that even if the king caught them and knew they were using him, it would be worth it anyway. The food was delicious. 

However, the King was getting impatient, but Yakko got quite a kick out of annoying him, and since he couldn’t punch him in the face, he figured annoyance sufficed. 

“Now, tell me,” Salazar demanded, slamming his fist against the table. 

“About what?” Yakko blinked at him innocently. 

“The Wishing Star, you foolish child,” He growled, but Yakko wasn’t afraid. 

“Oh right, that old thing,” Yakko nodded as he took a bite of the ham and kicked his feet onto the table. “Right, yeah, you see, the key to the whole thing is...” Yakko internally panicked as he tried to think. He looked at Salazar, who was a lot more threatening the closer he got to him. 

“You have something on your nose,” Yakko pointed at him. 

“What?” The King sat up and gasped. “Where?” 

Thank goodness the King was a vain egomaniac. 

“Right there,” Yakko pointed. 

The King then sniffled and rubbed nose, asking, “Did I get it?”

“Ehhhhhhh, no,” Yakko shook his head. The King did it again and Wakko and Dot picked up on what he was doing. 

“Did I get it now?” Salazar asked. 

“Ew, no, now it’s over there,” He pointed to the other nostril.

“Ew! Get it off! Get it off!” Wakko and Dot said in unison. Yakko then leaned over to the king. 

“Look- we’re trying to eat here. Could you go to the bathroom to take care of it?” Yakko asked. The King, being the major idiot that he was, nodded and went off to the bathroom. 

“Okay sibs, now’s our chance,” Yakko nodded at Wakko and Dot, who immediately understood and they started to book it down the hallways, holding each other’s hands so as to not lose one another. 

However, they came to a screeching halt when Salazar appeared in front of them. 

“You horrible, horrible children! Who taught you how to behave?!” He shouted at them. 

Was... was this guy serious???

“No one sir,” Dot’s face fell dramatically before she coughed weakly. “You see... we’re orphans,” Dot looked up at the King with puppy dog eyes, and Yakko and Wakko did the same, though they were nowhere near as cute as Dot. 

“Ah, right. Well, everyone has problems,” The King turned his back and Guards took them to the throne room. Yakko pondering annoying him further, begging for him to adopt them, but Yakko would sooner die than say that. After all, it was his fault that their parents were dead, that all of this had happened. Yakko remained silent. 

“Now, are you going to tell me the secrets of the Wishing Star or not?” King Salazar said. 

“Nope! Never,” Wakko stuck his chin up, and Yakko was forced to play along. He still didn’t know what to do, but Wakko’s response wasn’t going to make things easier. 

“Fine, we have ways of making you talk,” The King grinned darkly, and Yakko regretted his actions immediately. 

The King then snapped his fingers and the Warner siblings were dragged off by guards to a dark, filthy, disgusting, and dingy cave that was absolutely freezing and likely full of spiders and other gross things. 

“This blows,” Dot scowled at the area. 

“But it did get us some time. Maybe we can even escape from here,” Wakko suggested, still holding out hope. 

“Yakko, no natural sunlight reaches down here. we’re being illuminated by really old and dusty candles, look,” Yakko pointed up and Wakko saw them. “This is a cave, solid rock. We have to think of a secret and fast.” 

The siblings sat in silence and tried to think, but the cold was distracting, and they all huddled close to preserve body heat. That, and Dot’s cough was only getting worse because of how dust and dirt ridden the cave was, and that was hard to ignore too. Plus Yakko hated spiders and boy were they everywhere. 

Ultimately, Yakko had too much in his mind to think, which only frustrated him more, which made thinking harder, and eventually he just gave up and focused on keeping his siblings warm and close. 

“We’re still together... that’s all that matters,” He thought to himself before yawning. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was. They had done a lot of journeying in one day, and they’d have to somewhat repeat that if they wanted to go home, and hopefully they could avoid any other near-death experiences on the way back. Yakko had had more than enough already.

They sat there and tried to think for what felt like an eternity, hearing every creepy crawling thing move against the rock floor echo against the walls. Needless to say, it was a pretty miserable time, and they were almost grateful when the guards came and took them out and back to Salazar.  

“So... are you ready to talk yet?” The King smirked as he sat on his throne. 

“Yes, but please-” Dot coughed a little. “-don’t make us go back there!” She begged. Salazar chuckled. 

“We’ll see now,  won’t we?” He said and Yakko once again wanted nothing more than to punch him in his perfect teeth. He glanced at Wakko and it looked like he was having the same thought. 

“Now, tell me the secrets to the wishing star,” He demanded. Yakko gulped. He hadn’t thought of anything, so it looked like he was just gonna have to wing it. 

“It’s uh... not about what you wish it’s about... how you wish it?” He managed to say. Well, that wasn’t a totally terrible lie, and his sibs played along swimmingly, nodding their heads. 

“Really?” The king’s expression softened as he pondered it. 

“Oh yeah,” Yakko said, stepping forward and feining confidence. “You have to be really careful, things are taken so literally these days.”

“You don’t say?” The King stroked his stupid mustache. It was working. 

“Absolutely,” Wakko chimed in. 

“Now tell me, your majesty, what are you considering wishing for?” He said, sitting on the arm of his throne. 

“Well- the top of my wishlist is to own the world,” He said, showing said list to Yakko. 

“Nah, that won’t work. You’ll just get a globe,” Yakko said. “I bet that it’ll be nice, but it won’t be what you want. Try again.”

“Ah, I suppose that won’t do,” He frowned, crossing it off the list. Yakko couldn’t believe this was actually working. The King was such an idiot. 

“How about fame and fortune?” Salazar asked. 

“That’s the name of a popular book series. Try again,” Yakko shook his head. 

“Rats... Oh! I know! I could wish for the King Midas’ touch, where everything I could touch would turn to gold” He snapped his fingers. 

“That includes food, good luck eating a solid gold turkey,” Yakko rolled his eyes. Nobody could be this moronic, right?

The King huffed and leaned on the arm of the throne Yakko wasn’t sitting on. “I never realized this wishing business was so complicated.”

“Tell me about it,” Yakko huffed as well. 

“Oh, I know! How about I wish for youth and beauty?” He jumped up and asked Yakko. 

“That’d be more likely to get you a kid and a black horse than what you actually want,” Yakko shrugged, jumping down and rejoining his sibs on the floor.

“Well let me put it another way then... what about eternal youth?” He asked.

“You want to be a baby forever?” Dot raised an eyebrow. 

“I suppose that’s a good point,” The king went back to thinking, right before standing up. “I know! I’ll wish for a million bucks,” He grinned. 

“You do know bucks is another word for deer right?” Wakko tilted his head. Salazar growled in annoyance. 

“Of course I do!” He said, grabbing his cape dramatically. 

“Oh good, for a moment there I thought you were stupid,” Wakko grinned and Yakko internally facepalmed, fearing his brother had gone too far. 

“That’s it! I’ve had enough with you incessant and dirty little monsters!” The King’s face was red as a tomato now. Apparently, he didn’t take too kindly to being called stupid. Go fig. 

“Captain! Take them away!” He ordered and the Captain of the guard appeared in a flash. 

“And have them executed.” 

“Oh no, not this again,” Yakko panicked. 

“We had a deal!” Wakko stomped his foot. 

“Well, that’s the great part about being king,” Salazar leaned down. 

“I can do whatever I want.”

After that, the guards began to push and shove them with their guns and they were taken far away from the throne room. 

“Yakko- I’m sorry-” Wakko tried to apologize. 

“It isn’t your fault Wak,” Yakko stopped him. He did not want his brother dying on a guilty conscience, that was for him and him alone. 

Soon enough, the three of them were tied to two stalagmites in a different cave room (why on earth were there so many caves in this place?) and Yakko feared this was the end. 

“Sorry to do this kids, but it’s my job, so let’s get this over with,” The captain said, tying a cloth around Yakko’s eyes. Well, at least they had some shred of mercy in their hearts to not make them stare down the guns that would be their end. “Any last requests?” He asked. 

“Yeah, set us free,” Dot said. Yakko snorted a little. 

“No can do, pretty missy. I have my orders,” The captain said, his armor clanking as he shook his head. 

“Pleeeeaasseeeee let us go?” Dot said in her sing-song ‘i’m totally not manipulating you with how cute I am’ voice, and Yakko had no doubt she was using her puppy dog eyes, but alas, he couldn’t see because of the stupid blindfold.

“No way man! Forget it!” He said, though it was clear by his tone he was struggling to resist- Dot’s plan was working. 

“Pwetty pwetty pwease? With whipped cream and a cherry on top?” She upped her game. 

“Whoa, man! You’re working your cuteness on me, man! You’re irresistible cuteness! Stop,” The captain begged, but Dot had no mercy. 

“Pweasy squesy pweasey weasy wheeze?” Dot pleaded more. There was a pause for a moment. 

“Okay okay... fine! You win, man! You and your unspeakable cuteness! Untie them!” The captain ordered and the warners were untied. After they were freed, none of them hesitated to hug each other. 

“Now fire!” The captain said, his head in his arm as he cried (Dot really did a number on him, huh?), and gunshots echoed through the whole castle. 

“However can we thank you, sir?” Dot smiled up at the captain. 

“Don’t! You’re free!” The captain jumped away from her. “Just no more of the cute thing, please,” he begged. “Just go!”

“Wow Dot, I think you may have actually broken him,” Yakko examined the man, before noticing that all the other guards were in agreeance too. 

“I know, it’s a gift,” Dot smirked and flaunted her hair. Yakko rolled his eyes, and grabbed his siblings and they headed out of the castle as fast as their legs could carry them. 

Soon enough, they had managed their way out of the castle and they could see it- The Wishing Star. 

“C’mon sibs, we’re gonna make it,” Yakko said, a smile growing on his face as he ran. However, Dot screeched to a halt as a coughing fit overcame her, and she was forced to stop. 

“I-i can’t make it,” She winced. 

“C’mon Dot, we’re almost there!” Wakko begged. Yakko looked at his brother and they both took one of her arms and started to run again, practically carrying her. 

“We’re almost there, Dot. We’re gonna make it. We’re gonna-”

Yakko heard the sound of a cannon going off and before he knew it, a large explosion threw him and his sibs off of their feet. 

Yakko grumbled, having landed flat on his face. He struggled to get himself off, and he saw Wakko had landed right next to him and was rubbing his head. Yakko then looked over his shoulder and-

No. 

No, no, no, no, no, no, no! 

Behind him was Dot, sprawled out in the snow weakly. She looked hurt- badly hurt. Yakko and Wakko quickly got themselves out of the snow and ran to her. 

God, she looked so small and weak...

“C’mon Dot, please wake up,” Yakko pleaded, placing her head in his lap. She coughed weakly. 

“D-dot? Can you hear me?” Yakko said, his eyes filling up with tears as he rubbed her cheek softly. Dot mumbled and opened her eyes slowly, looking like it took an incredible amount of energy. 

Then, she smiled softly and touched his hand. 

“Tell me the story,” She said softly. Yakko sniffled. 

“Wh-what?” he asked, sharing a nervous, concerned, and confused look with Wakko.

“The story about mom and dad,” Dot said, giggling a little. “Tell me... one last time...” she coughed as it began to snow softly. 

Yakko shook his head as tears fell from his eyes. “N-no. You need to get some rest. W-we’ll take you home a-and y-you’ll be okay. R-right Wakko?” but Wakko was silent as he looked at Dot with tear-filled eyes. 

“Once upon a time...” Dot coughed weakly, “A brave knight married a beautiful princess, and they had two sons,” She said, looking at her brothers weakly. 

“B-but they wanted a daughter too, so they planted a garden...” she said, before coughing more. Yakko closed his eyes and summoned his inner strength once more so he could speak. 

“A-and out of the prettiest flower came..?” he asked.

“Me,” Dot smiled and squeezed his hand that was now on her shoulder.

“And so m-mom and dad took you home, a-and every night at bedtime they’d come in your room and they’d ask you ‘who’s the cutest girl’ and you’d say..?” Yakko was practically whispering. 

“I am,” Dot said, her eyes growing heavier. 

 “And they’d ask ‘how’d you ever get so cute’ and you’d say..?” He scooped her up and held her in his arms, rubbing his head against hers.

“I was born with that way,” Dot said, looking at him in the eyes.

She looked so much like Mom...

“And they’d say, ‘tell us your name,’“ He said, bringing her closer and closing his eyes, willing with all of his might that she’d stay alive. “A-and you’d say?”

“Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the Third,” Dot managed to say. “But you can call me Dot.”

“And they’d ask, ‘can we call you Dotty?’ and you’d say..?” Tears were streaming down his face as he opened his eyes to look at her.

“No,” Dot coughed. “Just Dot. C-call me Dotty a-and you... die...”

Dot went limp in his arms. 

Yakko couldn’t speak. He looked at her up and down, begging for there to be some sign of life. His breathing quickened and he rubbed his face against hers and he sobbed. 

“I can’t afford to lose them, she knows that. She can’t die- she can’t be dead- Sh-she just can’t-”

Yakko continued to sob, a feeling of anguish and pain that took over his entire body and was totally and utterly indescribable and unimaginable to those who had never lost a loved one before. He heard sounds of people talking and shouting behind him, but he didn’t care. 

His little sister had just died in his arms. 

“I-i didn’t mean to! They were just annoying me! Those two and- wait where’s the other one?” King Salazar said, and Yakko realized Wakko wasn’t with him anymore. Yakko watched, dumbfounded and numb as Wakko ran with all of his might to the Wishing Star. 

Everyone was cheering him on, while Yakko couldn’t get himself to say anything, still holding onto Dot. His eyes widened when he saw a cannonball be fired from the King’s Castle, and was aimed right for Wakko. 

“Oh no- please no- I can’t lose him too.”

“Wakko! Watch out-” Yakko had started to shout but there was a large burst of light and everything fell silent. 

Suddenly, Dot sat up. 

“I feel much better now,” Dot said, sitting up. Yakko blinked.

“D-dot???” He stuttered. 

“Hi,” Dot sheeped, embarrassed, but Yakko wrapped her into a hug he was determined never to let go of, sobbing yet again, but this time with relief and joy. 

She was okay.

Which meant...

Yakko stood up, and picked up Dot, before running to their brother, who was standing and facing the star. 

“Nice job Wakko, you’ve done well,” The face of a man in the star said to him. Must’ve been that fairy Wakko had mentioned earlier. 

“The power of the Wishing Star is now yours,” He said. Yakko blinked. 

That meant he hadn’t made his wish yet... He looked at Dot, who was looking away from him. 

Oh he was so going to talk to her about this later. 

“At the sound of the tone, please any wish you desire,” The man continued.

  “Okay.. here it goes,” Wakko said nervously, closing his eyes and focusing really hard. 

Abruptly, the Star began to glow and expand, and Yakko feared his brother might be standing a little too close. A bright burst of light broke through the area and suddenly the star was gone. 

Wakko blinked and looked at his hands before smiling. 

“Not one... but two ha’pennies!” Wakko showed them off. Yakko blinked, before walking over, setting Dot down, and examining the coins. 

“They’re real everybody!” He announced and every citizen of Acme Falls (and even the royal guards) began to cheer and celebrate. 

Wakko then looked up at his older brother nervously. “N-now I know what you’re going to s-say a-and-”

“You made the right wish Wakko,” Yakko put a hand on his brother’s back. “With that money, you’ll be able to pay for her operation and help revive the town,” Yakko said, smiling softly but proudly at his little brother. Wakko sighed a breath of relief. 

“I was so afraid you’d be mad at me- b-but once I saw that Dot wasn’t d-dea... you know, I thought this was second best,” He said. Yakko nodded. 

“Yes, you made the right call, it’s okay Wak,” Yakko said. Wakko nodded and smiled a little, before looking at Dot and hugging her immediately. 

Yakko sighed tiredly, but couldn’t get the stupid smile off of his face. He knew he was going to have to have a long conversation with his sister about the stunt she pulled later, but for now..?

She was alive. 

Wakko was too. 

For a horrible moment, he thought he had lost them, that he was going to be alone a-and...

But he wasn’t. 

They were there, and they were together and they were going to go home. 

Dot was going to get her operation, and everything was going to be okay. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

[tentimesthecourage]

A Pain?

Summary: Gotta (not) love those misunderstandings

“-and it’s just really annoying.”

Rinku’s ears perked up at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. He followed it with a smile before he paused at his next words.

“Yes, he is my boyfriend, but it’s still a pain. It’s annoying!”

He stepped back, smile falling. Annoying? Four found him annoying? A pain? Why didn’t he just tell him to his face? The older male usually had no problem expressing his thoughts and feelings on anything else. 

Was he simply toying with him like he previously feared? Rinku had never voiced these concerns to Four, finding them to be foolish. But what reason would he have to not just come out and tell him his actual feelings?

Not wanting to hear anymore, he turned around and bolted.

---

-You’re dating.- Wild deadpanned. -I think it’s natural you find each other attractive.-

“I mean you’re right, but not to this point!” Four groaned, tugging on his hair. “It’s annoying because I can barely think straight when I’m around him! My heart beat increases, my thoughts get all muddled and all I wanna do is just cling to him and not let go!”

-Maybe you should do that for a while. Find a quiet place and cuddle for an hour or two.- The champion smiled faintly in amusement

---

This was miserable.

For reasons Wild had no idea, Rinku was avoiding Four and it was bringing everyone down. His twin was constantly radiating hurt and heartbreak, but any attempts to talk about it were brushed off or ignored. Four clearly had no idea what was going on and the champion felt his heart twinge in sympathy every time he saw the look of heartbroken confusion whenever the older twin would pull away from him just from a touch.

Enough was enough. He wasn’t going to sit around and wait for them to resolve it because clearly they needed a push.

Wild grabbed his twin by the shoulders and forced him to sit down with him and gave him a warning look when he made to protest.

-You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on between you and Four.-

“Nothing’s going on.” Rinku looked away, there was that look of hurt again. “I’m just giving him the space he wants.”

His annoyance and exasperation melted into confusion. Space? What? Could Rinku seriously not see the confusion Four had whenever he pulled away from him?

-What are you talking about? Did you two get into a fight and he asked for space?-

“No, nothing like that.” Rinku shook his head. He looked uncomfortable, clearly not wanting to talk this out, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew Wild wasn’t going to let this go anymore.

“I… I heard him talking to someone. How he found me annoying… a… a pain…” He wrapped his arms around himself in a tight hug, not noticing Wild gaining a look of sudden horrible understanding. “And well… I figured it would be better if I just stayed away. That way I don’t annoy him anymore, right?” He looked up, confused at Wild’s expression.

“What?”

-You heard our conversation?-

“Your conversation…?” Rinku repeated and then he stiffened as his expression crumbled. Wild jolted, realizing the absolutely wrong conclusion his twin had come to.

“Am I really that much of an annoyance to you both that you have to talk behind my back?!” The younger male flinched at the pain in his voice, shaking his head rapidly. 

-No, Rinku, you’re misunderstanding!-

“What’s there to misunderstand?!” He barked and the tears that had been building finally started to roll down his flushed cheeks. “Both my brother and my supposed boyfriend find me to be a pain, but instead of coming to me about it personally, they instead hide how they actually feel about me!”

Wild winced, shaking his head again, this was bad. His ears twitched at the sound of footsteps and he glanced over hesitantly to see Twilight approaching them.

“Is everything okay here…?”

“Fine.” Rinku replied curtly and Wild looked panicked as he turned back to see him standing up and brushing himself off. “I need to take a walk.”

No, no, no, this was not allowed to happen. In an instant Wild jumped to his feet as well and wrapped his arms around his brother causing him to jolt and try to push him away. “Wild! Let go!” He shook his head and turned to a baffled Twilight.

‘Get Four!’ He managed to mouth to him, unable to sign. Luckily his mentor, though very confused, nodded and headed off. Moments later, Four came over, confused and wary about whatever was happening.

“What’s going on?” His quiet question made Rinku freeze before looking away. “Nothing. I just wanted to go for a walk. As soon as Wild let’s go, I’ll be out of your hair.”

Four looked to Wild who shook his head frantically, they couldn’t let him leave. Wild was terrified if they did, he wouldn’t come back, thinking it would be ‘better’ for them if he was gone.

“Seems he doesn’t want you to leave.”

“He’ll get over it.” Rinku grunted as Wild tightened his hold on him. “Wild, just let go already!”

“I… I-I w-won’t…” Goddesses, that hurt his throat, but it caused the exact effect he wanted. His twin stopped fighting him and instantly turned to glare at him, both anger and concern warring in his heterochromic eyes.

“Link! You know you’re not supposed to speak. It hurts you.” Wild glared at him in return. It was the only way to get him to stop trying to leave that he could think of.

“Perhaps you should stay and this can be talked about…?” Four felt vaguely uncomfortable about the tension between the twins. Plus, this was the closest he had been to Rinku in over a week without the younger one leaving him. He didn’t want it to end so soon. 

Rinku sighed heavily before his shoulders slumped and he reluctantly nodded. “Fine… let’s just get this over with already.”

The trio soon found themselves sitting together, though Rinku made sure there was plenty of space between him and the other two. He wouldn’t look at either of them and truly he looked ready to just get up and bolt.

“So… what’s going on?” Four was cautious but hopeful. Maybe he’d finally find out why his boyfriend was avoiding him. 

Wild gave his twin a look, sighing heavily when he didn’t acknowledge it before turning to Four. -Rinku heard our conversation from a week ago.-

“A week ago…?” Four repeated thoughtfully before he paused and his cheeks colored. “Oh, that one…?” 

Wild nodded before scowling, -But he has completely misunderstood it. I don’t think he heard everything. No, I’m positive he didn’t hear everything.-

That made dread and faint understanding start to pool in the smith’s stomach. He knew how quickly Rinku’s thoughts would spiral into the negatives and Goddesses, it had been a week since that conversation, he could only imagine what he was thinking. The more he thought about it, the more he was fearful that the other ‘going for a walk’ would have been his way of saying he was leaving permanently. This had to be rectified immediately.

“Rinku…?” A small shift in the ex guard’s posture showed he was listening. “What exactly did you hear last week?”

Rinku shot both of them a look. Seriously? They really wanted him to repeat those painful words? Was he that much of a problem to them that they wanted to see him hurt himself from remembrance?

“And it’s just really annoying. Yes, he is my boyfriend, but it’s still a pain. It’s annoying!”

Four winced at the out of context words while Wild rubbed his temples in clear frustration. Yes, that did sound cruel when the rest of the conversation wasn’t heard. Goddesses this was a mess.

Without either of them saying anything right away, Rinku continued. “Sounds pretty clear to me. I would have preferred being told to my face that I was being so bothersome, but-”

-Stop talking!- Wild snapped at him. -You don’t know the whole story, you’re taking a few words you heard OUT OF CONTEXT and making assumptions that have no bearing! You know Four better than that, you know ME better than that!- He moved close to jab his twin in the chest. -And you know damn well I have no trouble telling you exactly how I’m feeling and when I think you’re being a fucking idiot! Like right now; Rinku, you’re being a fucking idiot!-

“That’s enough.” Four cut in before Rinku could reply to Wild. “Getting up in arms with each other is not going to help with this. Wild…” He turned to the champion. “Could you give me and Rinku some time alone, please?” Wild saw his twin tense up, but nodded nonetheless. He’d keep an eye on them from a distance and if his brother ran off, they were definitely having words.

Once Wild left, Four turned his attention to Rinku. The other male was hugging his knees to his chest and not looking at him. Taking a deep breath, he moved closer to him, feeling a small pang of thankfulness when he didn’t move away from him. It was progress at least.

“Rinku-”

“Four, please.” He interrupted quietly. “I just want to get this over with so I can go. Don’t apologize, just tell me what you really feel.” Like ripping off a bandage, he just wanted it done. He heard Four sigh and tightened his hold as he braced himself.

“What I find annoying is that I want to be so close to you that I can’t think straight.”

Rinku stared at him in disbelief, but Four met his gaze steadily despite the heavy blush forming.

“It’s a pain that I’m so deliriously in love with you. All I want to do is hold on to you and not let go even though we usually don’t have time for such things.” Again he moved closer and again Rinku stayed still, frozen from the shock of his words.

“I could never find you annoying or a pain. Yes, sometimes you can test my nerves, but-” He emphasized the word, he would not let him dwell on that. “Those moments are few and far in between.” Four ran a hand through his hair.

“I was talking to Wild about my feelings because he’s one of the few who both knows what I’m going through and won’t try to tease me mercilessly for it. He suggested that we spend time together…” His blush returned with a vengeance, fiddling with his fingers. “C-cuddling for a while… that’s why I kept trying to get you to come with me this past week…” He wilted. “I had no idea you had heard any part of it and it killed me to have you brush me off and avoid me as much as you did…” Swallowing hard, he looked up at him.

“Forgive me… I never meant to hurt you.” He jolted as Rinku threw his arms around him and held him tight, hiding against his shoulder as the younger male’s own shook with sobs.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry!” He whimpered. “I-I didn’t mean-” Four hushed him softly, reaching up to rub his back. “Sh…. it was all a big misunderstanding… I’m not mad… I’m sorry… I’m sorry that this misunderstanding came about in the first place and that I didn’t just come to you in the first place.” He kissed his head gently.

Rinku sniffled softly, tightening his hold on him for a moment before pulling back. “D-do you still… want to…?” He trailed off and Four smiled tenderly, nodding.

“I do… but only if you’re alright with it.”

Later found Wild checking in on the couple. He relaxed when he saw them snuggled close together, Four settled on Rinku’s lap with his arms around him in a tight hug. The two were focused on the stars in the sky which allowed the champion to slip away silently.

[ijustwant2write]

An Unforeseen Future-Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader (Part 6/?)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Masterlist

Prompts List

Tags: @littlemessyjessi @hains-j @cliffdidanelvis @satsuma-livewasp-nightmares @miss-artemis-wild @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @millie67 @absolutelynoregretsonlychoices @the-loud-and-crazy-rabbit-pirate @mysticalfairytales @snowblazeblack @darkwolfpeanutskeleton @thatchampagnebitch @thiahilmarsdottir @mzliterarydreamer @newlifeforus@x-valhalla @jazzycasino @blonddnamedhandz @enchantedbones @severewobblerlightdragon @sad-letter @pieces-by-me @squids-for-knees

Summary: (Y/N) is stuck as Hvitserk stalks after Bo, and she is sure that he is intent on killing him. It seems that there is no possible way out, there is nothing that she can do to save him.

Characters: Hvitserk Ragnarsson x Reader, Harald Finehair x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mention of blood, killing, death, false imprisonment, swearing, drugging, manipulation, threats

                                  *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hvitserk!” I screeched, hurting my throat as I continued screaming at the top of my lungs.

My wrists were red raw from struggling against the rope, and I felt like I had pulled the muscles in my shoulders after thrashing around so much. With nothing near me to cut the ropes, I was truly trapped, with no way of getting to Bo. Even if I stepped foot outside, Hvitserk surely had his guards on strict orders to lock me up again. I had never seen Bo fight, I had no idea how good he was; even if he won against Hvitserk, his men would go straight after Bo for killing the prince.

I heard the front door open, but it couldn't be Hvitserk and Ivar, they wouldn't be back so soon. Falling silent, I heard footsteps approaching, tensing up when a guard entered the room.

"Stop screeching. You're pissing us all off." he snapped.

"Go retrieve Prince Hvitserk, he's about to do something incredibly stupid!" I urged.

"Like I would listen to you."

"I-I'm still the princess!"

“Oh, so now you want to class yourself as royalty? Well, your highness, would you please shut up?” He mockingly bowed.

I groaned.“Why can’t you see that Hvitserk is about to kill an innocent man because he is jealous? It’s ridiculous!”

“Many men kill each other to keep their women.”

“He’s not keeping me.”

“You seem to be kept here.” he gestured to the rope.

Looking up at my hands, I had an idea.“Look, I’ll shut up if you untie the ropes. Please, I’m not going after him.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“No, because I’ll never make it past any of you. Have you seen my wrists? The skin is cut, I’m bleeding. I just don’t want to be in pain anymore.”

He stepped closer, looking sympathetic as he glanced at my wrists (where blood was trickling down my arm). Now stood beside me, he leaned down, looking as if he was reaching for his sword. Yes, he was foolish just as I had planned, the idiot was going to let me go!

“If you stop moving about, it wouldn’t hurt so much.” he smirked.

I frowned at him.“Fuck you.”

The man said nothing as he left, but from the way he walked, I could see that he was pleased with himself. Slamming the front door shut to make a statement, I felt a horrible overwhelming feeling build up, a lump form in my throat before I started crying. My shoulders ached as they shook, tears running down my neck as I couldn’t wipe them away. Bo was going to die, I couldn’t do anything to help him. I was useless! 

Hours had passed since Hvitserk left, and the exhaustion from crying, struggling against my binds and fighting with Hvitserk had made me fall asleep. No sweet dreams visited me. I was sluggish as I woke, hating the painful feeling in my arms; however, the sight before me was what I truly loathed at that moment. Hvitserk was sat on the edge of the bed, hand on my thigh as he quietly called my name, he was the one to wake me.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), wake up.”

I jerked away from him, wincing as I unintentionally moved my arms.

“Try not to move, you’re going to be sore.”

“Please Hvitserk, I am in so much pain.” I cried again, my throat hoarse.

“Sh, here,” he reached over for a cup on a small table beside us, bringing it to my lips,“you must be thirsty.”

Moving my head away from him, I kept my lips closed, not wanting to take anything from him, despite desperately needing a drink. He had a smile on his face, even as he grabbed my cheeks with one hand.

“Come now darling, you must be parched. I just want to look after you.”

Having had enough of me, he pinched my nose blocking off any air to my lungs. Trying hard not to gasp, my eyes watered as I held on, though I knew I would have to take a gulp of air at some point, and so did he. With my lungs hurting, I attempted to subtly take in a breath of air, but of course that didn’t work. I choked and coughed as he poured the drink down my throat, spitting some out.

“What did you give me?”

“It’s alright, it’ll help you.” he stood, leaning over me as he began untying the rope. His hands were stained red, making my eyes widen.

“Y-you’ve killed him...you killed Bo!” I snapped. 

“Hush now, you’ll lose your voice.”

As the ropes loosened, my arms slowly fell down, the muscles stiff from being in the same position for hours. Despite the pain, I attempted to lunge for him, but somehow I wasn’t in control of my limbs, making me fall off the bed. Hvitserk chuckled as he caught me, lying me down on his lap, cradling my head.

“What...” my words were slurring.“What did you give me? Hvit...Hvitserk...help.”

“It’s to help you sleep. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”

I wanted to ask about tomorrow, but could only moan, words unable to form. Although my mind was screaming at me to fight, my body had shut down. He drugged me, he had a plan for me that he needed me to be asleep for, and I was petrified what was going to happen. As my body shut down again, eyelids heavily closing, I felt him stroke back my hair, flashes of his red hands being the last thing I saw.

                                         *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“She’s waking up.” 

The sentence was muffled, I couldn’t figure out who it was. My eyelids struggled to open, I rubbed my eyes, ignoring the ache in my muscles. With my vision still blurry, I went to speak, but my throat was too dry. Swallowing thickly, I cleared my throat, finally able to make out my surroundings. Two thralls stood at the end of the bed I was lying on. We weren’t in the cabin given to us when I first arrived, this one was different, more grand.

“Where am I?” I mumbled, trying to sit up when I felt a tightness in my chest. Glancing down, I realised I was in a dress.

“Please do not rush princess, you need to take things slow.” one of them said, hesitantly approaching me.

"Why am I in a dress? Who put me in a dress?"

"We did, we were ordered to by Prince Hvitserk."

My eyes widened."Why?"

They glanced at each other."F-for the feast."

"What feast? I'm sick of asking questions!" I winced, my head hurting as I raised my voice.

"The raid is set to take place in a few days. And it's also a celebration of your reunion with Hvitserk, everyone was worried about you."

I sneered at them, they understood they needed to elaborate.

"Prince Hvitserk set out to rescue you, after your kidnapping."

I groaned, rolling my eyes at the story. Of course he was telling lies, he had to make up a story to make him look like the hero. I was in a deep blue dress which had embellishment around the off shoulder neckline; it also had long sleeves, he knew he had to cover up my cuts.

"You're currently in King Harald's home, his room. The feast will take place here too."

I sighed."And when is this feast?"

"Tonight."

The thralls helped me to my feet, testing out whether I could walk by myself. I was slow, and I felt like I had been through a whole day and night of training. Dismissing them, I looked at myself in the mirror, wishing that I wasn't wearing such a beautiful gown to a miserable event. Thinking about who would be there at the feast, I remembered what I saw before I passed out; Hvitserk's bloodstained hands. Bo wasn't here, not any more. I couldn't fathom the idea of him being dead. Staring at myself in the mirror, I didn't see myself, this was the (Y/N) Hvitserk wanted. The good, little princess of his, his obeying wife.

"Oh, you look beautiful (Y/N)." I heard Harald's voice as he entered the room.

I frowned at him."I can't go in there."

"Come (Y/N), you will have a great time. There are old friends of yours in there, people who can't wait to see you raid-"

"I don't want to fucking raid!" my voice cracked."I don't want to be here Harald. I'm a prisoner."

"Things will get better (Y/N). If you go along with it, it will be as if nothing changed."

"And that's the problem. I can't act like everything is alright. He's killed my friend Harald! He's killed him for no other reason than jealousy! I would have gone along with his fairytale if that meant he would leave Bo alone, but he wouldn't listen. How can you stand back and watch as I, your friend, suffer through all of this? You know he's in the wrong!"

"Take a deep breath (Y/N)," he took a step towards me, reaching out to comfort me but I flinched away. As I did that, he furrowed his brow at me,"what is wrong with your wrists?"

I scoffed."You sound shocked. If you didn't know, I was tied up all night, then drugged and dragged here. And I was also dressed in this whilst unconscious, then told I was apparently kidnapped and that there was a feast being held partly for me tonight. This seems to be my life now."

"I...I do not know what to say."

"Then you are as speechless as I am." the sound of Hvitserk's voice made my skin crawl.

"Hvitserk, you should not sneak around like that." Harald let out a breathy laugh.

"Why? Are you two up to something?" Hvitserk was half joking, but tension rose in the room. Hvitserk looked me up and down, happily sighing,"You always look gorgeous in that colour."

I turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed again.

"I'm sure you must be starving. Your favourite foods are out there waiting for you, and the people will arrive soon. Let us celebrate your return." he held his hand out as if I would leap up and take it.

"Hvitserk, perhaps we should let her rest a while longer. I'm sure people will understand that." Harald tried to help me.

"Harald, would you please leave me and my wife? This should be between us."

My pleading eyes didn't work on Harald. He looked guilty as he left, but I heard him happily greeting people as they entered the hall, the noise level rising with the chatter. I was stuck again.

"Why don't you want to see our friends?" Hvitserk quietly asked, sitting beside me. He rested an arm behind me, and I knew he was itching to wrap it around me.

"My friends would see right through this act, so you didn't invite them. Your friends shall be there, as will all your followers."

"I chose this dress for you. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was the one."

"You knew it was the one to cover up my wounds."

"How are they?" he reached down for my wrists, smiling to himself,"I know what will make them better."

He was about to tenderly kiss them, but I shot up, tearing my hands away; we used to do that all the time for each other's scars (he had much more since I never raided again), it was a beautiful moment between us. A sign that we would always be there to look after each other, as if a kiss would heal all wounds. However, I suddenly went very dizzy, and Hvitserk was there to catch me again.

"Woah, be careful (Y/N)." it was disgusting how tight his arms were around my waist."Let's get you sat down and get some food in you. We shouldn't keep them waiting."

The way he now held my hand wasn't comforting. I knew that if I let go or refused to hold his hand, something else might happen to me. Now was not the time to cause a scene. Hvitserk wanted to put on a show for everyone, he wanted everyone to see how perfect things were now. His smile grew bigger as we made our way to the hall, the music and chatter getting louder. Cheers rang out as we appeared, Hvitserk waving an arm out as we went to take our seats. I managed to look somewhat content.

"Here they are, your prince and princess!" Harald had the audacity to announce, avoiding eye contact with me."Finally, two lovers reunited. This is the kind of uplifting and encouraging story we needed to give ourselves a boost of motivation for this raid! Everything is back to normal, and soon, we shall have even more riches to shower ourselves in! For tonight, we feast!"

The roar from the crowd was extremely loud, hurting my ears. I made sure to look happy, taking a cup with some form of alcohol in one hand as Hvitserk kept grip of the other. I flinched as he squeezed it, pulling me closer to him so that he could whisper in my ear.

"Do not ruin tonight." he warned, looking out into the crowd. No one was watching.

"You're going to tie me up again?" I snarled back.

"No. I know who else was on that ship with you. They can easily be tracked down, just as Bo was."

I pulled away from him, pushing the petrified feeling deep down inside me and remaining calm. Leaning back in my chair, I let out a shaky breath, scanning the room for any of the crew. None of them were here, and I could believe that Hvitserk had guards waiting for orders tonight.

How the fuck was I supposed to get out of this? Hvitserk had all the power. The only people that could help me were under threat if I made a bad move. I was literally trapped, I had no freedom to even think of a way to escape. Bo was dead, and if I didn't tread lightly, I would have more blood on my hands. It seemed that the only way out was me with no life left inside, and that wasn't an option in my eyes. This would be a waiting game, a long one, but I had to bide my time; because I would overcome this, I had to overcome this.

[parkhabits]

Movie Marathons {M}

Park Jinyoung x Reader Genre: Fluff / Smut / Drabble Summary: Halloween night and all you wanted is to have movie marathons with Jinyoung instead of being dressed up as Minnie Mouse and at a frat party.  

Word count: 4,546

He was irritated. Annoyed at best. His day was draining, his body exhausted physically and mentally. He always looked forward to home. Loved the quiet and comfort of his space. After long and tiring days he loved being able to shut the world out. Especially tonight of all nights while people were out partying and getting dressed up. He found satisfaction in curling into bed and rest. He was about to do just that until his phone buzzed. 

He could have ignored it. Yet something had been gnawing at him all day. The feeling in his gut poking at him to look at the message. 

Y/N [12:08am]: Jinyugkeeee Can you pleade come get me? 

He stared at it blankly. Debating to ignore it. It was apparent you were drunk. The state of your text message proved it. Deep down he knew why he had been on edge all day and short tempered. You had bragged on and on how you had been invited to Johnny’s house for a Halloween party. In fact, you couldn’t stop talking about how you were ready to let loose and unwind after a week of finals. That alone annoyed him. He never understood the need to party in order to unwind. The need to drink to let loose. There were plenty of other ways people could do that. Some that didn’t involve a house full of rowdy guys. He almost chose to ignore it out of spite, until his phone chimed once again. 

Y/N [12:10am]: please?

He was weak. Within two minutes of the last text message he had already grabbed his keys and wallet and was out the door. Abandoning his sanctuary to get you. Why? Because the thought of leaving you stranded there was enough to form numerous scenarios in his mind that made his blood boil and his foot step on the gas faster. 

The air was humid and thick, every inhale filled your nose with the stench of mixed alcohol. You needed air, fresh air as you pushed your way past the dancing bodies, moving past a drunk soldier and a barbie and ken making out against the wall. Side stepping past the boys dressed as ninja turtles who jumped for joy at the beer pong table until you stumbled outside onto the porch. Away from everyone. Rarely had you come to parties like this. It wasn’t your scene, not in your comfort zone. You pushed yourself though, even going as far by making your makeshift minnie mouse costume. Wearing a red skirt and finding the ears from the local dollar store. It was all in an attempt to try and seek attention from the one you really wanted to spend the night with. You had hoped it would have worked, that if you talked about it enough, the details of what to expect that he may have told you not to go.  Suggest doing something else. You felt foolish to think he’d ask you out. But there had been signs. Obviously you interpreted it wrong. 

You liked Jinyoung. Had thought your friendship with him was progressing to something more. There were moments. The kind that had your heart fluttering, the kind where you internally cheered him on. “Do it. Ask me out already,” or “Kiss me you idiot,”. He never did and it only made you feel like the idiot. You didn’t  have the guts to act on it either. You sat down on the steps, looking at your phone. He had seen the messages. Was he coming? What if he wasn’t? 

Your head felt heavy, your face hot and flushed by the alcohol that was pushed on you. Your minnie mouse ears constantly falling off your head. You knew your limit, why were you stupid enough to go beyond that. You rested your head in your lap, ears sliding down once again but this time you decided to just leave it. Waiting for Jinyoung to come. If he didn’t, then the porch seemed comfy enough to rest until you sobered up. There was a sleepy haze looming over you. 

“There you are,” there were footsteps behind you. It was the guy dressed as Fred Flintstone you met and talked to for a bit. “I’ve been looking for you,” he sat down beside you.

“Just waiting for my ride,” you murmur, head feeling too heavy to turn and look at him. 

“Already? The party’s just getting started,” he coaxed, “Come have a few more drinks,” 

You shake your head and even that requires a lot of effort. “I’m done for the night,” 

“It looks like you need to lie down. Come on, I’ll take you to the spare bedroom,” his hand moves to your lower back, and though you think he does it out of comfort the touch has you shuddering out of unease. 

“I’m fine,” you muster up the words and say it as carefully as you can so not to slur. “My ride will be here soon,” You hoped. You weren’t even sure if that were true. 

“Why don’t you lie down while you wait?” He continues to persuade. 

Annoyed and uneasy you stand to walk away from him. When you do, you feel and see everything around you begin to spin. You lean against the railing for support and without fail he snugs his arm around your waist. Trying to shift your body weight onto him so you’d be against him for support. 

“Let me go. I’m okay,” but you weren’t. You felt so nauseous, felt stupid that you had even got to this point. You tried to push against him but were just met with the solid stability of his body. 

“I’ll take you inside -“ 

“Y/N,” 

You look up to see Jinyoung, two Jinyoung’s actually, walk towards you. You smile, “You came,” 

Jinyoung wanted to curse at you right then and there. His hands were bawled in fists at his side. He doesn’t say anything, only walks to you and the dirtbag who had his arms all wrapped around you. He pushes him off you and you all but fall into Jinyoung’s arms instead. You knew you shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t control it. Your body and mind were disjointed. Though your mind screamed stand up, your body felt like jelly and your legs wobbled. 

Jinyoung sighs deeply. Maneuvering himself to best support you as he begins to guide you to his car. 

“Dude just let her- “ the guy doesn’t even finish his sentence as the ice cold glare Jinyoung sends over his shoulder advised him otherwise. 

“My ears,” you mutter, trying to turn back to get those damn mouse ears. 

“Leave them,” Jinyoung said through gritted teeth. Really? Out of all the things to be concerned about. 

If he had arrived a few minutes later, or worse. If he hadn’t shown up at all. The thoughts sent a rage through him.  If you weren’t so heavily reliant on him for support Jinyoung would have gone back and punched that Fred Flintstone jackass back to the dinosaur era. 

With the world spinning it was finally a relief when you sat down in the passenger’s seat of Jinyoung’s car. Through double vision you watched as Jinyoung rounded his car, saw the furrow in between his brows. He was mad. Maybe you shouldn’t have called him. When he got into the car, he still didn’t say anything. Nor did he even look at you. Your head was still fuzzy, your eyes closing as the silence and the drive tempted you to sleep. 

Jinyoung gripped the steering wheel hard. Focusing his attention to his driving and channeling his pent up anger elsewhere. Images of that guy’s arms around you flashing through his mind. He heard it as he approached the house, that sleaze ball trying to coax you to “lie down”. Whether it was innocent or not that whole scenario didn’t sit well with Jinyoung. From the corner of his eye he glanced at you. Your head was bobbing and he could tell you were fighting  the urge to sleep. Unbelievable. He was angry that you let yourself get to this point. If he hadn’t shown up who knows what would have happened. His blood boiled at the thought, slamming more aggressively on the brake to have you whiplash forward and startle you awake. You glanced at him wide eyed but still he said nothing. Did he have a right to be angry? No. Was it because he was deeply in love with you? Yes. 

“Oh no,” you managed to slur, a bit more alert from the realization. 

“I can’t pull over if you’re going to puke,” Jinyoung said through gritted teeth. 

You shake your head. “It’s not that. I forgot my purse there and my apartment keys are inside,” you explain though you were experiencing some bouts of nausea from the way Jinyoung was driving. 

“Roommate?” 

“Weekend trip with her boyfriend,” you internally curse yourself once again for getting to this point. 

“We’ll get it tomorrow,” Jinyoung says. His temper was too high to turn back. Even the littlest thing, like seeing the jerk’s face could set him off and into a fight. He sighed heavily, “You’ll stay the night with me,” 

You opened your mouth to object. Yet it sounded more like a command than an offer. At least he spoke to you though. Your heart pounded at the thought of staying the night in his apartment. Stomach swirling with nerves, anticipation and alcohol. 

You had been to his place multiple times before. The warm beige walls and chic black furniture. Tastefully decorated for a young man his age compared to the decor you saw at Johnny’s house. During the car ride you thought you had sobered up slightly however the minute you stepped out that proved untrue. The pavement seemed like it dipped with every step, a mix of uphill and downhill. You feel Jinyoung grab your elbow, doesn’t say anything as he guides you into his apartment. 

Suddenly you feel it. The lurch in your stomach. Something you hoped would never come. You push away from him, knowing your way towards his bathroom. As much as it felt like you needed to nothing came as you leaned against his tub for support. The toilet within leaning distance if need be. Now you regretted texting Jinyoung. Just as much as you regretted going out tonight. Your liver probably happy to know that you plan to abstain for a while. You buried your head in your lap, back against his tub as you remained on the bathroom floor. You groan miserably as even the floor seemed to rock, like you were on a boat during the middle of horrible sea storm. 

“Here,” You hear Jinyoung’s voice. His tone is softer now, not as harsh as earlier. 

You don’t want to lift your head for two reasons. First cause you feared any movement would cause the nausea to come about again, and second because you were too embarrassed to be seen like this. 

“Drink some water Y/N,” Jinyoung urges softly. Brushing your tousled hair and taking your hand to hold the glass. 

“I shouldn’t have texted you, but thank you for coming to get me,” you say as you sip the water. You grimace as you do so, your stomach not wanting anymore fluid in it. 

“I’m glad you did,” Jinyoung says as he sits on the floor beside you. 

You look at him surprised, “Are you sure? You seemed pretty mad,” 

“I- uh,” Jinyoung sighs heavily, “Was annoyed at you. Then I was pissed at the guy whose arms were around you,” he explains. 

The feeling in your stomach was good, not alcohol induced. But a giddy, almost excited feeling. “Because…?” you urged for more, staring directly at him. If he let another moment pass then you wouldn’t know what your tipsy self would do. 

“Because I like you. Maybe even more than that,” 

There it was. The confession you’ve been waiting for. Another moment and this time he had actually confessed. “Your timing is the worst,” you groan and let out a laugh as you bury your face in your hands. Jinyoung’s eyes widen. A sense of panic across his face and for a split second he wondered if maybe you met a guy at the party.

“You had to confess to me when I look and feel like crap,” you mutter as you keep your head down. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles and nudges you. “Whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” you tease, “If you would have confessed sooner then I wouldn’t have gone to the party and we could have spent the night in, watching scary movies,  cuddling and making out,” 

Jinyoung cocks his brow, “Well from now on, no more parties, movie nights only.” He smiles. “Very interesting image of a drunk minnie mouse though,” You groan again and Jinyoung laughs. “Come on, you need to sleep this off,” he says. 

“Just leave me here. I can’t move myself without everything around me spinning.”

“My bed’s comfier,” Jinyoung says, and in one easy and quick swoop he lifts you bridal style. 

Your arms wrap around his neck out of reflex as you let out a startled gasp. 

Your back hits the soft mattress. “You’re not gonna stay?” You ask as he begins to tuck you in. 

“I’m a gentlemen who doesn’t get into bed with drunk girls,” Jinyoung smiles.

“Can’t trust yourself?” You tease. 

Jinyoung chuckles, “Can’t trust you,” he pokes. 

You frown, snuggling into his pillows deeper. “I’m good,” you murmur. 

“Sure you are, but I’m irresistible,” Jinyoung kisses your forehead, “Good night Y/N,”

When he left you snuggled into his sheets, your world was spinning. Not because of the alcohol but the elated giddy feeling of having your feelings returned.

There was an incessant ringing. A large buzz pounded away at the already painful sensation in your head. You groaned as you finally registered what the sound was. An alarm clock. Why the hell did you put an alarm for a Saturday morning? Wait a minute, you don’t use an alarm clock. With painful regret you opened your eyes. Your body hurt, your head was a whole other level and the distance of the alarm clock on the nightstand from where you lay might as well have been a mile away. With a groan you reached over and slammed the snooze button before pulling the covers to block out the light. Did you forget to draw your blackout curtains? No, no you didn’t because you weren’t in your room. You weren’t in your bed. You tried your best to recall last night. Halloween, Johnny’s house, the drinks, too many drinks. You sit up immediately. Confirming and registering that you were in fact not in your own room. You winced at the brightness of Jinyoung’s room. Immediately you reach for your phone. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” You cringe to yourself as you read your message to him. 

You look around his room, the opposite side of you remained unslept. Where was he? Was he mad? More importantly, what’d you do? Reluctantly you dragged yourself out of bed and into his bathroom. “Oh god,” you say revolted at the image of yourself in the mirror. The smudged makeup, tousled hair, probably from having to rearrange those minnie mouse ears all the time. On top of that, the smell of alcohol stenched your clothes and made you nauseous. Where were your minnie ears? You glanced at Jinyoung’s shower, hopefully he wouldn’t mind. 

As the warm water washed over your body, relaxing and cleansing away all remnants of last night’s mistakes you tried to recollect everything else that happened last night. Judging you couldn’t find your purse before the shower meant that it was probably left at Johnny’s, hence why you’re probably at Jinyoung’s. What else Y/N? Then you gasped, covering your mouth in surprise as the hazy memories seemed to come flooding in. 

“We could have had a movie night in cuddling and making out,” You could hear your voice so clearly. Did you really say that? 

Because I like you.

You nip your bottom lip. His voice is distant but did it happen? You curse yourself for two reasons. First, if it was true and Jinyoung did confess you hated that you were too drunk at that moment to know now if it were true. Second, what if it wasn’t and now you were left with disappointment. There was only one way to find out you figured as you stepped out of his shower. After raiding his drawer and finding a pair of his sweatpants and tshirt you slowly open the door, peaking your head out to see if Jinyoung was around. It was quiet, however the smell of coffee tempted you to step out further. Your body craving the hot contents to flush away the rest of the toxins and hopefully clear your head even more. 

“Well, good morning,” 

You startle at the sound of his voice and you’d bet money he said it a little louder than usual on purpose to aggravate your headache. 

“Hi,” you basically squawk, turning around to face him. Hungover or not it didn’t go unnoticed just how good looking he was in his grey sweats and black t-shirt. 

“Funny, I remember you wearing something different to the party last night,” he looks you up and down. 

“I hope you don’t mind me borrowing these,” You tugged at his shirt sheepishly. 

“I don’t,” he grins, walking to his kitchen. “Coffee, water, advil?”

You basically groan as you flop onto his couch. “Yes to all three and if you throw in food I’ll worship you,” 

“I’ve got bagels,” He offers. 

“You’re amazing,” you hum as you sprawl on his couch. 

When Jinyoung comes with hot coffee and a freshly toasted bagel you could have kissed him right on the spot. “It’s official, I worship you,” you say with the first sip of coffee. You set aside your food, “Thanks for getting me,” you say bashfully. 

“Hoping it’s the last time,” he says. You nod in agreement. “Cause movie nights in, cuddling and making out,” he teases giving you a nudge. 

You cringe, “So it’s true. I did say that,” You bury your hands in your face. So did that mean? “Did anything else happen?” You prod. 

Jinyoung shrugs, “You tried puking and felt sick. You don’t remember anything?”  

You nod, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment. There was also a pit of disappointment starting to form. So Jinyoung’s confession must have been your imagination.

“How are you feeling now?” Jinyoung asks. 

Disappointed. “Good.” 

“No nausea? Don’t feel gross?”

You shake your head, “Nope, thanks to the shower,”

“Sober?” He asks. 

“Completely,” you answer. 

“Good, so you’ll remember this.”

For a moment, you think you’re dreaming or imagining things once again. That you were in fact still drunk. But then his tongue traces your bottom lip, grazing and meeting yours as your lips part in response. Lips moving with his. 

This was real. Very, very real and it was amazing. 

His hand moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your damp hair. Bringing you closer, the other hand resting on your cheek sweetly. With the slightest tilt of his head he brings the kiss deeper, eliciting the tiniest little moan from you. As the disbelief and first initial shock pass you find yourself wrapping your arms around his neck, inching closer you’re almost sitting in his lap. Before he draws away he takes one last nibble at your lower lip, both your breaths heavy as you pull away only inches from each other. 

“I like you Y/N,” Jinyoung softly murmurs. His nose nuzzles against yours in an eskimo kiss, “And you better remember that now,” he squeezes your side teasingly. 

You jolt, laughing. “So you did confess. Finally,” 

“Finally,” he agrees, taking your hand in his as he brings it to his lips. 

“So when do you think I should get my purse from Johnny’s?” 

Jinyoung lets out a little sigh with his laugh and you see the glint of amusement in his eyes as he pulls you to him to snuggle at his side. “After a scary movie marathon and some cuddling,” 

“And making out,” You tip up to press your mouth against his, warm and returning. There’s a surge in your belly, beyond the initial giddy feeling previously. You pull away slightly and the feeling in your gut still burns with need. 

You let it simmer. Jinyoung’s arm around you as the rest of the day was spent curling on his couch watching the good old halloween classics. There’s a comfortable silence between you two as you watch, settled in comfort. During the fifth movie you knew he was starting to grow restless as he starts tracing small circles along your shoulder. You try to be engrossed in the movie, pretending to ignore the way he keeps glancing over at you. Gradually breaking eye contact from the screen. A smile tugs at your lips and he catches the subtle way you nip your bottom lip. The simmer that you had earlier igniting into a needing flame. 

“Pretty sure the movie is more interesting than my face,” you tease, keeping your eyes focused on the scene in front of you.

“I beg to differ,” Jinyoung murmurs. “I like what I’m seeing more, less scary.” 

This time you look away from the screen and at him. Jinyoung’s smiling down at you, his grin mischievous, playful. His fingers continue to trace tiny circles along your arm, enticing goosebumps along the surface of your skin. 

“I think I want my shirt back,” Jinyoung murmurs, his hand already moving to the hem of his t-shirt you’re wearing. 

The sounds of screaming from the tv are ignored as you lean up to kiss Jinyoung. Feeling the warmth of his lips move in reciprocation against yours. The warmth in your belly ignites in a flame, moving to your core. Soon you’re moving onto his lap, straddling him. Grinding against him. His hands eagerly moving under your shirt to cup your breasts. His hands massaging and thumbs enticing in circular motions against your aroused buds. Your breaths are heavy, your kisses heated. When he pulls his shirt you’re wearing over your body you moan as his mouth immediately sinks to your breast. You moan, sinking your own lips to his shoulder as you nip. Your hips grinding against his clothed lap even more to soothe the ache between your legs. Feeling him hard under you. You’re hungry with need. Peppering his jaw with kisses, hands fisting in his hair as his mouth devours. His thumbs hook in the sweatpants you’re wearing. Bringing the cotton material down a little.

“Wait a minute,” Jinyoung looks up at you as he discovers something. 

“What?” you say breath heavy. 

He brings the material lower over your hips, “No underwear?” 

You shrug, “I obviously didn’t come prepared to spend the night and shower here,” You laugh at the pained groan that comes from Jinyoung’s mouth as he hoists you up to change positions as your back is now lain against the cushions of the couch. 

“If I had known earlier we wouldn’t have gone through five movies,” Jinyoung murmurs. 

“Nothing stopping you now,” You raise your hips to assist Jinyoung with pulling off your sweats. 

“No, no there isn’t,” Jinyoung looks up from his lash line as he trails kisses down your navel. He sinks down to your core. There was a flash of heat the minute his tongue comes in contact with your clit. Yet it didn’t diminish, it only continued to burn into a pinnacle of euphoric pleasure. Even as your hands fisted in his hair he only spread your legs further apart on the small width of his couch. You felt exposed, so open to him in the middle of his living room yet the way his mouth worked your core had you seeking more. Bringing yourself to grind against his mouth as his tongue circles and dives. Un-relinquishing ministrations of his mouth against your hot and sensitive center. You clenched around nothing, yet you felt everything. 

“Jinyoung,” you quiver. You’re at the edge, so close. You just needed the final push. 

As if hearing your inner thoughts Jinyoung slides two fingers and your heat relinquishes as you come around them instantly. Clenching and coming as his fingers curl up into you. The orgasm everything you had been wanting since you first felt his lips against yours. 

Yet it wasn’t over. Not as Jinyoung kneels up and brings his own sweatpants down then he drives into you. Building you up again. You adjust yourself on the couch, giving him more room to move as he begins his strokes. You gasp as he bottoms out in you, your hands gripping his shoulder to brace yourself. You begin to move as you accommodate to his size. Moving in sync with him as the sounds of both your moans drown out the tv. 

“Wait wait wait,” You say between breaths.

“What?” Jinyoung exhales, “Am I hurting you?” he eases off.

“No,” You prop yourself up on your elbows. “I just want to…” You kiss him softly as your hands press against your chest coaxing him to lay down. You straddle him again, this time taking him in you. Slowly you sink down on his length. Jinyoung’s eyes close, hands finding purchase on your hips. Then you begin to move, bowing up then down on him. You begin to ride him. Slowly at first, testing the new position. Adjusting to him from a new angle as you roll your hips. Hands resting against his chest for support. You arch back, and Jinyoung’s hands caress up your body. Hands back to your breasts. Your movements quickening against him as you begin to increase your pace, moving and bouncing on his shaft as you drive both of you to climax. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, falling forward barely able to keep moving as the pleasure becomes to much to bare. Jinyoung starts thrusting in return, raising his hips at the new angle deep into you. With erratic thrusts both of you cum. You sink back down against him, riding out the last of both your highs before collapsing naked on top of him, body limp and completely satiated. Still within you Jinyoung holds you close, catching his own breath. 

“I hope you’re comfortable because I don’t think I have the energy to move,” you murmur. 

Jinyoung chuckles, his fingers trailing up and down your damp back.  “We can stay like this forever I don’t mind,” 

You smile against him, then let out a low groan as you roll off him with reluctance. Jinyoung adjusts and makes room on the couch as he holds you against him. “Thought you wanted to stay like that,” he frowns.

“We’ll need sustenance eventually,” you curl against him. 

The loud scream on the tv startles the both of you, Jinyoung’s arms wrapping around you tighter in reflex. Both of you glance at the tv as the killer approaches one of the main characters. You laugh, snuggling against Jinyoung once again as both your attentions focus on the scene before you. However, five minutes later your attentions are both directed elsewhere again.  

[anomander-dragnipurake]

Possessed Chapter Two: E. Gadd

Luigi’s phone started ringing, the tone signified it was E. Gadd. … Possibly calling about King Boo’s escape, too bad it was far too late to be of any warning to Luigi.

‘Oh! E. Gadd!’ King Boo said internally, his grin spreading across Luigi’s face. ‘Let’s see how well I can impersonate you, huh?’ He pulled the pone out of Luigi’s overall pocket. “Howdy.” Unlike the other times he spoke, his voice quivered a bit and well… he did sound a lot more like how Luigi normally talked. Not exactly but… the difference probably wouldn’t be very noticeable over the phone.

“Sonny,” E. Gadd said, apparently fooled. “I got news. First off, King Boo escaped again, whoops.” ‘Whoops’ indeed, if Luigi got out of this alive, he might be tempted to strangle E. Gadd for losing King Boo for a third time. “And your dog is here. He seems agitated about something; he won’t shut up. You know what’s up with him?” He seemed more concerned about Polterpup than he was King Boo’s escape. But at least, Polterpup had gone for help, right? … Too bad he couldn’t actually tell E. Gadd what was going on.

“W-what do you mean King Boo escaped?” King Boo put way too much fake terror into his voice. E. Gadd had to see past it and suspect something, right?

“I mean he’s out and about again, what else would I mean?” Apparently not. “He was there last time I checked but gone this morning, don’t know what happened. Hmm… actually that might be what your dog is trying to tell me. Maybe he knows where King Boo is! You should come over. Maybe we can find him again before he lays his next trap.”

King Boo’s grin widened. “O-kay, if you insist.” More fake fear, poorly disguising evil delight.

Luigi pushed against King Boo, trying with all his might to say something, to warn E. Gadd. … He failed and with an internal laugh, King Boo hung up.

His stride much steadier now after a couple hours of coordination practice, King Boo started for the door as he repocketed the phone. Outside, the sun was starting rise, a testament to the hours Luigi had already spent trapped in his own body. It felt like ages though. He’d never been this tired before, he wanted to lie down and sleep for a year but instead, King Boo piloted his body towards his car.

‘I’ve never driven a car before so this should be fun.’ King Boo said as he got into the driver’s seat. Oh dear…

If you crash, I swear I’m going to kill you. Luigi was having a bad enough time as it was without adding ‘dying in a car crash’ to it.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t. I can’t have you dying on me before we say ‘hi’ to Mario after all.’ Oh right, that was a thing… maybe dying in car crash wouldn’t be so bad after all. King Boo’s only response to that thought was a laugh.

 -

“The longer I spend piloting your stupid meat suit, the more I hate it,” King Boo complained about an hour later. “It’s gross and getting anywhere takes forever even with a car. We’d have been there forever ago if we could travel my usual way. How do you put up with any of this without going mad or wanting to die?”

Leave then if you don’t like it. Did Luigi dare hope that all the inconveniences that came with a body might be enough for King Boo to abandoned this horrid plan of his?

“Nope, not happening. I can endure it to make you miserable, I just don’t understand how or why the living put up with it.” Well, that wasn’t surprising, so much so it wasn’t even really disappointing.

Weren’t you alive once? Boos were a special type of ghost, right? So, even King Boo had to have been alive once upon a time.

“Yep. It was so long ago I don’t remember it though. Which I’m glad for because…” He made a strangled gagging sound, fully emphasizing his annoyance.

With an internal sigh, Luigi did his best to go back to zoning out like he’d been doing ever since King Boo taken a detour to the clothing store. He’d bought a fancy white suit that and purple tie that he said was far more fitting ‘gross overalls’. Which, with how his possession of Luigi affect his appearance, was true. He’d thrown Luigi’s clothes out completely.

 -

E. Gadd’s lab was all the way outside of town and a fair way away from it, thus it was another hour before they finally reached it. King Boo pulled right into the driveway, parking very crookedly and just barely managing to not hit anything. If he had though it might’ve given E. Gadd some warning that something was wrong but… it was too much to hope for.

King Boo didn’t bother ringing the bell or knocking, he barged right in. The front door wasn’t even locked; E. Gadd could really use some lessons on proper security protocols.

Inside, neither E. Gadd or Polterpup were anywhere to be seen. They’d probably be further in, in the lab proper with all of E. Gadd’s experiments. All this room had was his monitoring equipment. None of it was currently turned on which probably explained part of how King Boo managed to escape so easily and not be noticed until it was too late.

King Boo hated the place. His feelings for it were intense enough that he probably couldn’t have kept them from Luigi if he’d tried. He’d been held captive here three times so of course he hated it. It made Luigi even more nervous about this upcoming meeting though.

Please don’t hurt the professor. Luigi begged because there was nothing else he could do.

King Boo ignored him as he strode in and towards the lab proper. His coordination practice was unfortunately very successful even after a long car ride. It meant if things got violent a trip or a stumble probably wouldn’t save anyone.

Polterpup’s furious barking was audible a second before he burst out of the back room and into King Boo’s path, blocking him from entering the lab. King Boo looked down at him, raising an eyebrow in annoyance. Thankfully he made no move to hurt him though.

“What is it dog- … Luigi?”

King Boo looked back up to see that E. Gadd had followed Polterpup out. As always, his large glasses made his expression hard to read but his mouth was set in a confused frown.

“You’re half right,” King Boo said, turning his evil smile onto E. Gadd. He hated him almost as much as he hated Luigi. “But perhaps you might want to call us ‘King Booigi’ instead.” He laughed at his own bad pun.

E. Gadd made a wordless sound of surprise before ducking back into his lab. Hopefully he could flee out the back or… something. King Boo gave chase, stepping over Polterpup with ease because Polterpup wouldn’t attack as long as it would hurt Luigi too.

In the lab, E. Gadd hadn’t gone for the back door but a Poltergust instead. Dammit! … But maybe he could… It didn’t even turn on when he pressed the switch, making an empty clicking sound instead. King Boo reached him before he could sort out whatever the problem was.

Please don’t… Luigi’s desperate plea cut off as King Boo balled up a fist and punched E. Gadd in the face hard enough for it to hurt Luigi’s hand too. The sound of his nose breaking was audible, a wet crunch that sickened Luigi almost as much as feeling it give way beneath his fist did. His glasses broke too, bits of them cutting into his face and Luigi’s hand. He went limp and would’ve collapsed to the floor if King Boo hadn’t caught him by the neck.

No, no, don’t, no! Luigi begged as he started squeezing as hard as he physically could.

‘You know the best part about having hands? You can strangle people!’ King Boo’s glee and satisfaction was sickening but not nearly as much as the far too clear feel of E. Gadd’s pulse in Luigi’s hands.

His weak eyes fluttered open, focusing on nothing. He reached a hand up to paw at Luigi’s hands but there was little strength in it. His face was already starting to turn purple, his eyes bulging.

Stop! Don’t! Please don’t! Luigi strained and pushed against King Boo’s control of him with everything he had. … Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring both their vision before spilling over and his hands twitched, loosening their grip slightly for half a second, allowing E. Gadd to take in a tiny gasp of air before King Boo pushed back, tightening their grip again. Luigi had done something but… it wasn’t enough… he couldn’t…

Something launched itself into Luigi’s side, making King Boo lose his grip on E. Gadd’s neck out of surprise and sudden lack of balance as something bit down hard onto his forearm. They fell over in a heap, the biter on top. It hurt bad enough that it took Luigi a few seconds to realize it was Polterpup. He may be a ghost dog but his teeth, though rarely visible, were sharp enough to punch through the suit sleeve and deep into Luigi’s arm, drawing blood.

Before King Boo could try to push him off or attack him in anyway, he let go and jumped back to stand in front of E. Gadd who lay on the floor, clutching at his throat as he gasped for air. Polterpup placed himself squarely in front him, growling protectively, his teeth dripping with Luigi’s blood.

Even despite the horrible throbbing and spreading warmth in his forearm as blood oozed from it, Luigi couldn’t help but tremble and cry in relief. Until King Boo put a stop to it though with an internal growl as he fully reinserted control.

‘You’re pathetic. I can’t believe I ever lost to you! Crying and whimpering over a foolish old man who doesn’t even respect you.’

Please… please don’t… hurt him… please. Luigi lacked the strength to do anything more than beg. There was nothing he could. He was going to have to watch as King Boo killed Polterpup and then E. Gadd with his hands, meaning in a way, he’d be the one doing it, right? He couldn’t… that wasn’t…

‘First, Polterpup is already dead, I couldn’t kill him again if I wanted to. Second, I don’t kill dogs or any other animals, they’re too precious even if some of them are traitors.’ He glared at Polterpup.

… ‘Precious’? … King Boo had soft spot for animals?! What? … Luigi probably would’ve fallen into a fit of desperate laughter if he had the means to do so.

‘Everyone has a soft spot for animals, you fool! Even Bowser’s got a cat. I heard it had kittens recently too.’

“What do you… want?” E. Gadd said with a cough, his voice horse and barely audible over Polterpup’s continued growling.

With a huff, King Boo stood up. “If you free my boos and destroy all the equipment for containing them maybe I’ll you let live.”

“And Luigi?”

“He’s my puppet for now. You can’t do anything to me as long as he’s mine. Also, might I add, he’s still in here.” He tapped the side of his head. “Watching everything, feeling everything. He was quite distraught when I was choking you. If only you could’ve heard his whimpering and begging. It was everything I dreamed it would be.” He allowed himself a small chuckle. “So, what’s it going to be? You going to cooperate or am I gonna have to kill you.” ‘The only reason I’m letting off for now is because of the dog. I’ll find a way to restrain him if I have to though.’ It was a promise he hoped to keep. ‘Also though, I don’t know where he keeps my boos, he separated me from them this time. Having him release them is faster and easier.’

E. Gadd fumbled and using a nearby machine pull himself up to his feet. He leaned on it as he pawed at his lab coat for a few seconds before pulling out an extra pair of glasses to carefully place on his face with shaking hands and a small wince. “Fine, I’ll… free your boos.” He grimaced, looking away, all his usual jovial energy completely absent. He was obeying though, which hopefully meant he’d make it out of this alive.

“And destroy all your machines meant for capturing and holding them?”

“Yes,” E. Gadd replied through gritted teeth, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fist.

“Good! I suggest you hurry up before I get impatient.”

E. Gadd glowered at him but moved to do as ordered almost immediately. He was alive though and really that’s all that mattered, hopefully he was smart enough to keep it that way.

[constancecunningham]

Safe as Houses || Constance & Remmy

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: Gallow’s End Estates

PARTIES: @whatsin-yourhead & @constancecunningham

SUMMARY: Shaken by her actions at the docks, Constance goes for a walk, but she isn’t alone. Remmy makes a proposition.

CONTAINS: Brief references to past abuse.

Remmy had a decision to make.

Life was still moving and they’d been standing still so long. It was time to decide if they were going to keep moving, or if they were going to stay still. Sure, they had forever, but that didn’t mean the people around them did. And forever wasn’t even guaranteed, was it? As long as slayers and hunters existed, nothing was guaranteed. Not that Remmy blamed them, but they had to accept the fact that even if they did nothing wrong, even if they presented no threat, did nothing bad, there would always be people like Alain who would cut them down anyway. Though he had agreed not to go after them until they hurt someone for real again, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t change his mind again. Or that someone else would come along who wasn’t willing to compromise. There were too many variables in forever, that was the one thing Remmy knew was true.

And so, it was with that in mind, that Remmy found themselves strolling through town, coming upon old places that they’d found comfort in in the past. Mooseventure, Al’s, the Commons...and lastly, the Bend. And the awful, dirty, shitty apartments they’d first lived in when moving here. And while the place had been just horrible, they’d met two of their very best friends while living here-- Blanche and Nora. And while Nora was off doing...who knew what, Blanche was still here. Still fighting. And Nora was around, she made sure maintenance came to the house to keep it in working order for the residents that did still live there, even if they were undead. They deserved a nice place, too.

It wasn’t until Remmy got closer to the building that they realized the person they’d seen standing out front wasn’t standing at all-- they were hovering, just above the ground, and Remmy could see straight through them. A ghost. Thoughts of Nadia flooded their head and Remmy hesitated a moment before they realized, again, that they recognized this ghost. She had been the ghost sitting next to Remmy on the bench in the park that day-- the day Morgan had died. This ghost was Constance. Remmy would never forget her face.

They walked up towards her nervously, but kept their demeanour calm. “You’re um...you’re Constance, right?”

Constance had fewer and fewer places left to her where she felt safe. Everywhere she explored, there Morgan was and there her rage blazed, weakening her grasp on her own soul, narrowing her vision to the size of a pinprick. And yet the sun rose and the sun set and she could not sleep. Perhaps, all this considered, returning to the outskirts where she had been born and the woods where she had played alone. Constance glimpsed the gray sunlight cut and scattered like flour through the many branches. She imagined that the sun remembered her, the trees remembered her, and the creatures she cared for and buried and the treasures she was so afraid to lose she buried them too and touched them not at all until they were useless--those must remember her too.

Drifting forwards, she explored further, searching for the way back home. Or what she had called and cursed as home. It had to be right around--

Oh.

Constance was no fool. This world had no love for brittle things like the excuse of a house she had been born in. No markers or ruins signified the life of her or anyone else she had crossed paths with. And yet, there were still ruins before her. Chipped and peeling print, exposed bricks of gray rock, falling shingles, a faint drip of a leak, somewhere. It almost brought a smile to Constance’s face, to know that this world, and this spot, was one still riddled with leeks. Inside people were cold, they cried, they hated, they starved. And most likely, no one would remember them any more than her. How to think of such a miserable life, now rendered into multiples like some catastrophic math riddle. Was it cursed ground? Was it her, or just the twisted bend of this world and the wickedness of the people who moved it?

She heard a voice call her name and turned. She knew the face, but its place didn’t come to her at once. “...Good day,” she said curiously. “You’re solid, real solid. I don’t have many of those that know my name. How are we--” And then it came to her. That day at the beach. Constance stiffened. “If this is another one of Morgan’s blessed stomping grounds, I can take my leave without being threatened,” she said. And she should leave, if this was true. She was so weak, and so angry. She wanted Moran’s death to be something precise, even elegant. She couldn’t manage that if even looking at the woman riled her to snapping light bulbs.

“What? No,” Remmy said, shaking their head. “It’s not-- it’s not. This is uh-- I used to live here.” They motioned to the apartment building down the way, as ragged and decrypt as the houses surrounding it. This had nothing to do with Morgan, and Remmy found it all the more quiet when they realized that, too. They turned to look back at Constance. “Why are you back? You know she-- she wants to hurt you, because of what you did, what you’re...doing.” They weren’t sure what to feel yet, only that they knew they could sense a deep sorrow coming from the specter, and the idea of one of her closest, best friends wanting to harm someone simply to harm them. That wasn’t the person they thought Morgan was, but it terrified them, deep down. And they weren’t sure if it was the thought of her hurting someone or the thought that Remmy hadn’t known her capable that scared them more. “It’s not safe here for you.”

Constance grew more confused. For people who were determined to align themselves with the Bachman family, Morgan’s friends demonstrated a strange amount of concern for her. “I never left,” she said carefully, waiting for the subterfuge to reveal itself. “I saw her bleeding on the street, and there was so much noise I thought even you wouldn’t hear how I screamed with relief. I was sure I had never done anything more perfectly. Did you know that there were only two other casualties? I regret them as sins and doubtless I will be punished eventually, but all those machines, all that glass and noise and screaming, and she was gone by her own doing with only two more people caught in the crossfire.” Constance’s voice softened, wistful. “And I thought, I want to stay to see the moon and the stars and a new sun, in a world with no more survivors of the Bachman line. And I saw it. And then I thought, alright, that must be enough now. Only I didn’t fade. And I think I’ve tried rather hard at it, but no one I ask can tell me the secret, because if they had it, they wouldn’t be here still. But here we are. I can only think that some part of me suspected the truth all along. I did nothing perfect. I only made her into more of a monster.” She went quiet, regarding the strange figure again. “I don’t care about being hurt. And I don’t care about what she wants to do. I want what I asked for.” What was so very hard to understand about that? “Why is this not safe? If you’re not going to beat me with iron or tell her where to find me, why wouldn’t I be safe? Why is it any concern to you in the first place?”

Remmy wasn’t good at this part. There was a struggle going on in their heart and it made them feel sick. Morgan was their best friend, they should be on her side for this-- but Constance was clearly suffering, too, and even if she’d been the one who’d put Morgan’s death into action, did she not deserve a chance at forgiveness as well? If Morgan got that chance, why not her? Simply because she was a ghost? And so young. Younger than Remmy. Younger than Nadia. Remmy wiped at their one exposed eye. “What’d they do to you?” they asked quietly, ignoring everything else for now. “The-- the Bachmans. What made you so...sad?” And they chose the word carefully, pausing for a long moment before saying it, because it was a very particular feeling they heard in her voice. It seemed like such an innocuous word, but Remmy could find no other to describe it. The sound was so familiar, so close to their heart. “It’s not safe because...when people want to hurt you, it doesn’t matter who you are or how you feel, they’ll do it. And it’s just-- it’s just another cycle of violence. Why does everyone wanna hurt each other so much? Why does anger have to be the emotion we respond to? Does anyone really think making someone else hurt fixes anything? Makes anything feel better?” They sniffled again. “It’s my concern because I don’t want to see you hurt. You or Morgan or anyone. I’ve had enough.”

Constance rolled her eyes and turned back to look at the building that had replaced her family’s house. She felt nothing as she drifted through the world, but she could feel the despair coming from this place. “Why do you care?” She huffed. “It was tragical, and foolish, and I lost everything. Even before I cast the spell, I had nothing left but myself. And handkerchiefs worth of objects I had on my person, but those were worthless, too.” A picture. A phony charm. Some cornbread. A flattened penny. The paper she’d used to make her plan with Agnes. A baby’s rattle would have been worth more in comparison. “My father said I was born melancholic. And cruel. He said a great many things, but perhaps he was right about the way I was born. It is difficult to come to an end such as this and feel as though you were not fated to pain from the start. And if you cannot understand a feeling such as mine, if you have never needed to see your pain paid back threefold, if you have never needed to feel a name and a line burnt out by time once and for all, I should think you wouldn’t want to taste it.” But the figure persisted, and Constance wondered if they knew Blanche Harlow as well. “Morgan is my only missing piece,” she said. “And my worst, for of course it should be this way,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “It used to be that you couldn’t walk half a mile without running to a Bachman relative, or Bachman owned land, or a Bachman friend. And now I have one fiend of a woman so small, she’s practically the size of a child. I think I’ve accomplished a great deal. I’ve changed the world.  If that was your only wish, and you’d paid for it with your self, wouldn’t you risk paying again to see it done? To be finished, and have your wish come true?”

“I don’t know,” Remmy answered honestly, “I just do. I can’t help it.” And they couldn’t. And the more they thought about it, the more they realized they’d always felt this way. They’d always had a bleeding heart, hadn’t they? Even when they were a child, so angry and lost and scared, all they’d wanted was to help other people. Taking the fall for things that weren’t their fault; letting others use them if only to make themselves feel better; helping others even when they were struggling themself. Remmy had always felt the pain of the world around them and wanted to help-- it had just taken death for them to realize that. Swallowing, they looked square at Constance. “No, I wouldn’t,” they finally said, once Constance was done speaking, and was looking at them for some sort of validation. “But that’s just me.” They knew everyone, everything was different. “Doing that will just turn you cold, you know. I-- I understand how you feel. Maybe not entirely, but I do, on some level. I grew up with nothing. No mom, a deadbeat dad, poor as shit...and queer, to boot. People all told me I was never going to be good for anything. That all I did was bring others pain. I was trouble. I wasn’t worth it.” They swallowed, clearing their throat of the tears that threatened. “But they were wrong. Because...they don’t get to decide who I am and what I’m worth. I get to decide that. And-- it took me a long time to figure that out, but I did. And it’s true for you, too. What do you even gain by killing Morgan? By destroying a family line? Whatever pain they caused you-- it was so long ago. Morgan is so far away from whoever really hurt you, the pain you cause now just starts a new cycle of pain and violence and-- why would you want that? Don’t you want peace? Don’t you want...to be happy?”

The story the figure told was so familiar, Constance couldn’t bring herself to trust it. Perhaps someone had written about her, perhaps her death had meant more than one more miserable, nameless body in the woods. Which was more plausible? That some misguided record and put down the details of her cruel existence, or that this stranger, this person who had screamed and cried over what Constance had done would possibly understand her? “You don’t understand anything about me,” she said stubbornly. She drifted away from the building, away from this...person. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m trying to conserve my energy and be stable! A solid like you wouldn’t understand that either.” She wanted them to go and leave her be. A world that ignored Constance was painful but it was at least familiar. And perhaps if she stomped on her feelings enough she could find the words to explain how hopeless she truly was, and how little she had left beyond her wish. She bound herself to it that night, however many moons ago. Constance wasn’t sure if she would know how to let go until it was finished, even if she was mad enough to ever want to.

“Yeah, I do,” Remmy insisted, following after her. “Life treated you like shit-- you never got anything good and happy. And then when you finally did, it took it from you, right? It tore everything away, including yourself?” They went around her-- remembering how Nadia had said she didn’t like being ignored and walked through-- and stopped in front of her. She could easily phase through them, they supposed, but it was the act that mattered, right? “If you really think you’re the only one that’s ever suffered, you’ve got a big reality check coming, Constance. I died, too, you know,” they said, crossing their arms over their chest. “Alone and afraid and only after watching the rest of my world be destroyed. The only difference is that I woke up solid and you woke up transparent. That doesn’t make you any less of a person, or-or any less worth being given a chance. Maybe-- maybe you’re still here because this is your second chance to do better, to be better. To be...happy. And don’t-- don’t tell me what I do and don’t understand. I understand a lot more than you-- or anyone-- thinks.” And they were tired of everyone thinking they didn’t. They were tired of being pushed aside.

“If only I had truly been here this long,” Constance said bitterly. “If I had really been here this long, I might have finished my curse before your wretched friend was ever born. But when I bargained myself, I went…” Constance didn’t know the words for what had happened to her. There was nothing like it in any scripture she had ever read, Christian, Pagan, or otherwise. “It was like sleep, but it wasn’t. I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know that my house was trampled like it never mattered, or that there were huge petrol beasts coloring the air or that a girl can get made fun of for wearing a dress now, that was a stupendous treat to discover while I was visible. By the heavens, I wish I had really been here for so many years! I would know what to do with this nothing body better!” She was getting upset again. Lights behind her were flickering, screaming strange, buzzing, artificial screams. “I...woke up...in a circle. When she brought me here,” Constance said carefully, voice trembling. “To hurt me. I died and then I...was there, and I had lost even more than I knew how to reckon for. And I don’t think I’m the only one who’s ever suffered. I just think I’m willing to do something about it. I wasted my power when I was alive, mostly, but I won’t make that mistake again. I was a witch beyond measure, and even in death I can rebalance the scales. If there’s anything being in this wretched era has taught me, it’s that time bends long and slowly. Maybe you don’t see the point in what I’m doing or what I want, but maybe the stars and the trees will, maybe the lives that can grow without so much destruction or meddling. And I will know. I’ll know I didn’t just take it, or give up or ‘get over’ it.” She sighed, and realized what a fool’s gesture it was. “I don’t know if I am a person. I don't feel that way all the time, and however I try to be better, whatever I touch so far has turned to destruction and hut, and not even that which I intended. I think my soul is...strange, at best. But I do appreciate...whatever it is you are trying to do. There are not many kind people here. It is good to know they continue to exist, however few.”

“Morgan isn’t wretched,” Remmy said quietly, “and neither are you.” They were quiet for a long while, not flinching when Constance made the lights flicker and screech with electric hums. They looked over to the decaying apartments, then back to the spirit, and felt another tug at their heart. “She didn’t summon you to hurt you, you know,” they finally said. “She just wanted answers. To why her life was always falling apart, to why she wasn’t allowed happiness. You can...relate to that a little, can’t you?” They didn’t know what they were searching for in any answers from Constance, but they knew that she was trapped in a world that she wasn’t allowed to escape, suffering more pain. Remmy looked at her with eyes full of sorrow. “This world is-- scary, yeah. There’s a lot of not good things in it, but...there’s a lot of good, too, you know. You just haven’t...seen it yet. I could show you, if you want,” they wondered if she was even still listening, “if you’d give me the chance. Not everything here is destruction and meddling, like you said. And...certainly none of it is because of one person. Cursed or not.” They paused, biting their bottom lip, before continuing. “You are a person. Maybe different than the kind of person you remember being, but...you’re still a person. Just as much as me, or anyone else. And I think...I think maybe your soul is just a little lost. And I don’t think you deserve to be hurt just because of that.”

Constance couldn’t cry or rail at the stubbornness of this person, not without destroying yet even more of the world, and she did not want to rush to disappoint herself or Blanche even further. But it was all she could do to keep herself from it. She wanted to laugh, or fall over from the incredulity of it all, but feared the impact of that feeling as well. Could a shade such as she disrupt the world from delight? Had such a thing ever happened before? “What manner of creature are you?” She asked, shaking her head. “You know better than many what I am capable of. What I have done. ...What is it you really want from me?”

“I don’t...I don’t want anything from you, Constance,” Remmy said back, shaking their head again. “That’s not...I just want to help you. I know you’re probably alone and afraid...and I know how that feels. I don’t want anyone to have to feel that way.” They mumbled, hands digging into their pockets. Constance wasn’t safe, just drifting out among the general population. There were hunters and exorcists and mediums everywhere. She was already having such a hard time even keeping her spirit body together. It reminded Remmy of some of the ghosts they’d seen wandering the old haunted mansion. Slowly, an idea struck them. “Hey, you, um-- you said you’re having trouble staying stable, right? Figuring out this...spirit thing? What if I had a place for you to go? Where there’s other ghosts and it’s safe. No one can hurt you there. Would you come with me?”

The idea of such a place had never occurred to Constance. She couldn’t imagine it in her head, except as some euphemism for a ghost prison. They didn’t make human proof vessels, only salt and iron lines that tore her apart for trying to exist. But this...whoever they were, were so persistent. Surely if this was some jest or a trap, they would be worn out by now? Or would they? Constance had learned the hard way how persistent a lie could be. Perhaps this was how they proved their loyalty to Morgan, by luring her into a trap.

Constance hesitated for a long time. She should know better than to believe in...oh, so many things. But she said, “Tell me where it is and I will find it on my own. I can find out if it’s what you say it is or not. Who are these ghosts who trust you anyway?”

“Right, yeah,” Remmy said, nodding slowly once Constance finally spoke. “It’s um-- here,” they motioned for her to follow them around the building to where the horizon broke and on top of a small hill sat the mansion, off in the distance, beyond the cemetery. “It’s that house there. I, um-- used to live there, actually. When we moved in, there were already ghost residents so we just sorta...let ‘em stay. Didn’t seem fair to make them leave, you know? We had to establish ground rules and stuff, but we made it safe. For us and for them,” they explained. “We’re all just people. I think they...liked being seen. I would sit with them, even the ones that didn’t talk. It felt nice...to be needed by them.” They paused, went quiet, then looked over at Constance one last time. “Come whenever you want, no obligation. But...it’s safe there. I promise.” And even if it wasn’t yet, Remmy would make sure it was.

[arieteis]

things you said: 15, 21, 49

she liked to think she had her life under control, quashing any unwanted emotions the moment they bubbled to the surface by hiding behind a practiced benign smile and accepting whatever was thrown her way no matter how distasteful she may have found them. anzu would have never labeled herself a pushover, if anything, she may have politely referred to herself as a people pleaser if she were ever questioned on why she never properly stood up for herself, but in either case she came out on the bottom. time and time again she found herself doing things she would never willingly choose on her own, but whether it be for work, an acquaintance or even a friend, she had a terrible time saying no. she liked to think it was her inner desire to keep everyone happy that led her to put herself last so often but even she knew it was that she lacked the courage to say no thus landing herself into an uncomfortable situation that she’d much rather avoid. though, despite knowing this, she was not bright enough to come to terms with the fact she was only making herself miserable by doing everyone’s bidding instead of just looking out for herself and doing what she yearned to.

her life, or what she could remember of it, was not particularly difficult, but there was something eating away at her nonetheless. her recurring nightmare struck her often, the screeching of tires and the sound of glass shattering haunted her often, becoming an image that not only plagued her sleep but also her waking thoughts. though she willed herself to remember, she was unable to piece together the puzzle that was the recurring dream, with time the scene had become longer and she was sure she had witnessed an accident, but she was unable to remember who had been hurt or why she had been there. anzu had clearly attested to something horrible and her lack of recollection was beginning to drive her mad but it was her own choice to keep it hidden, buried still beneath that laughable smile she always plastered on her face. it was easier that way. smile, sit pretty, and keep quiet. her aunt had told her that often, though it was typically winded in with stories of her own youth. as a teenager, instead of turning towards rebellion as many did, she simply accepted her title as a failure that her mother slapped upon her before shipping her off to another country. she was still unsure of what exactly she’d done to earn such a nasty name but she chose to never press on it. she never pressed, never questioned, just accepted.

then, leo entered, like a turbulent storm with the capability of breaking down anzu’s walls quicker than she was able to build them. she brought out the emotions anzu tried so desperately to regress, questioning her on things she’d have rather kept buried and never speak of again and it infuriated in hers she was unable to wrap her head around. anzu, as flippant and naive as she appeared, was quite keen on keeping her personal life completely to herself, but the other knew just the right buttons to press to cause anzu to slip if only for a few seconds, but no matter how much she deflected over messages, she’d mull about the conversation for hours afterword. it’d be easy to say she hated leo, but that wouldn’t exactly be the truth, as something kept drawing her back in to the other that even she was unable to place a finger on. perhaps it was some inner need of her own to be found out and draw her out of the shadows she’s cast around herself or maybe it was simply nothing more than her own foolishness. no matter the reason, it didn’t matter too much, for she found herself spending more time around the other despite the way the bickered over text and it seemed as though her run in with leo on the ground battling her own demons hand’t changed much. if anything, it may have tethered them together, despite the fact the two of them really had no reason to be communicating in the first place. 

realistically, anzu should have ran the moment leo decided to message her for the first time as she’d never been too fond of others acting too familiar with her upon meeting for the first time, but unlike those who she would have quietly ghosted, something about leo enticed her to continue messaging her back. sometimes, she thought she’d completely lost her mind reading back some of the things the other would send her, but in a way it was always exciting to speak with the other. if nothing else, she was always kept on her toes, there was truly no way to read what leo was going to do next and some small part of her enjoyed the thrill. maybe her slow descent into her own despair was chipping away at her brain, after all. she hadn’t had much to say besides deflection, easily playing the part of the innocent kitagawa anzu persona she’d built up, but despite being easily flustered, it wasn’t as though she really minded being teased. it at least reminded her she was capable of being sought after in a strange roundabout way.

all that knowledge she'd garnered of the other shouldn't have prepared her for anything besides the worst, but anzu had been imprudent and allowed herself to get swept away into the storm. still, standing before leo and that smug look she wore on her face paired with the way she had been speaking had her trepid nature melting away, replaced by clenched fists held steadfast at her sides, curled so tight her knuckles turned white. it wasn't as though she hadn't been angry before, but it was not often it was so openly directed at another person, instead it was an emotion she reserved solely for herself in the quiet comfort of her own bedroom, the emotion more often than not directed towards the white pillow perched at the head of her bed. however, this time, leo had pressed just a touch too far, the visage of her mom's disappointed look as she was dropped off at the gate of the airport as tears bubble up in her eyes at the forefront of her mind. the image is half recreated as she feels the familiar sting in her eyes, but she's not about to willingly let herself cry in front of the other. instead she stomps one foot like a petulant child, her brows knitting together as she eyes the other with slightly glassy eyes, lips turned into a grimace foreign on her face. 

"you know what?" she pauses, taking a shaky breath before she continues, her fingers curling tighter at her sides. "fuck you, leo. you don't know anything at all about me." somehow, though, she'd perhaps pieced together more about anzu in a short time than anybody had before and the fact was enough to frighten her into her defensive mode, something that usually brought out her vast amount of deflections. if there was one thing that could bring out the worst in anzu it was certainly the mention of her parents. their disapproval of her came suddenly, as from what she could piece together from her memories she'd been the model daughter until being thrown aside like nothing more than garbage. while they had been brought up during leo and anzu's messages on multiple occasions, something about having them mentioned to her face left her feeling off, but she assumed it had something to do with the way leo was so confident in her prodding. 

"you're always saying this and that about me but have you even taken a second to really get to know me? you're nothing more than an asshole who thinks she understands everything when in reality you barely know anything at all." another pause paired with another shaky breath, her body curling in on itself slightly as she takes a small step back, trembling with the force of the emotions that are right on the verge of spilling over, a thin layer of tears having now built up but not yet falling over the edge. "i feel like such an idiot for ever feeling bad for you that day. you didn't deserve it." another step back as she turns her head away, her hair falling in just a way it shields her from having to look at the other. a lone teardrop hits the floor and splatters and that's when anzu's facade falters, the girl taking a few more rapid steps back before she completely collapses in on herself, crouching down to hold her head in her hands as she attempted to keep her breathing from getting out of control, feeling overwhelmed on top of the sheer embarrassment from breaking down in front of leo of all people. 

she doesn't have the fight in her to even tell leo to leave, shaking with the force of all she was feeling it was all she could do to keep herself from completely falling onto the ground in a miserable heap so she chooses to ignore her presence, silently wishing she'd walk away and choose to not bring it up again, but she was not so ignorant to believe that would happen given the nature of their relationship to begin with. even with all the fight in her, she'd probably made a scratch in leo's smug armor, and she couldn't help but wallow in her own discomfiture right in front of the other. it was so terribly mindless of her to speak without thinking for, if nothing else, she'd just given the other more ammunition to torture her with. even so, at the end of the day, perhaps anzu deserved it. she could only hide from her troubles for so long.

[youknow-i-loveit]

Why I Still Feel Like I Need To Ask Permission Before I Do Anything Ever

Randomly hit with the realization that my parents are still holding me back because they never taught me how to act with autonomy.

They never taught me how to be assertive or how to tell people things.

(They also wrecked my self-esteem, which was pretty horrible to begin with.)

My parents were very “do this because I told you to” authoritarian types who didn’t like to answer questions, and especially hated it when you questioned them. Questioning other authority figures was okay sometimes, depending on who the authority figure was, but my parents wanted to reign over their children with absolute power.

They generally had issues with needing to feel in-control. They didn’t have great role models for what it means to be an authority figure- my mom was the youngest, doted upon and spoiled for being the only girly-girl in the family, and by the time her parents had her (the eighth child), they were exhausted and distant, permissive, laissez-faire parents- and my dad grew up under an abusive military man who routinely beat his children, who used his voice as a weapon, and when he was at work, his wife ruled through manipulation, primarily guilt-tripping. Since my dad was the second of his six brothers, he was considered to have a better idea about how to deal with children, so my mom generally deferred to him, partly because of that, and partly because if my dad didn’t feel like he was in charge, he would make sure everybody felt miserable.

And as they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. My dad very much took after his father. He thought he was being toned-down and “gentle,” and bragged all the time about how he had it worse, making it sound like he was going easy on us. He often threatened to act more like his dad. But while I feel bad for him and his brothers and the abuse they endured, that gave him no excuse to abuse us the ways he did.

I could go on and on, but the point is, my parents didn’t know how to be in charge, but they felt that it was their god-given right to be in charge-- literally, they kept throwing “Honor Your Mother And Father” at us from the Ten Commandments.

My parents never admitted to being wrong. In fact, my dad hammered it in that being wrong was shameful and something that none of us should ever, ever do- ignorance was considered shameful, and if we ever dared utter the sentence “I didn’t know,” he would mock us, roar at us, and quite often, make references to that moment for the rest of the day, if not the rest of the week. It took me years to be okay with admitting that I don’t know things. To teach myself that learning should be fun and exciting, and that teaching others new information should be seen as an opportunity, not as a burden.

So my parents are proudly ignorant control freaks with an abusive streak, who want to rule with absolute authority; so far so great right?

My parents were strict Catholics who wanted us to follow their faith. They took us to church every Sunday. They enrolled all of us in Catholic school until they couldn’t afford the tuition anymore. They insulted anyone non-Catholic- even other Christians- calling them stupid and sinners and sometimes even “evil,” and considered anyone who attended Catholic church but didn’t adhere to their beliefs “not true Catholics,” so they were lumped in with the rest of the riffraff who were apparently going to hell.

We were allowed to question authority figures that didn’t adhere to their strict beliefs, and even encouraged to make fun of them, but if we ever dared to question someone who did, my parents informed us with cold, cutting certainty that we were making the wrong choice and were in danger of going to hell ourselves.

We grew up pretty sheltered. Our parents wouldn’t let us participate in most of the fads that swept up everyone else in our peer groups. It didn’t even matter when those peers were all Catholic kids attending our same Catholic school- my parents still thought their parents were making the wrong decisions, and we were effectively isolated from socializing with our peers. For a window into this, consider that I was forbidden from watching or playing Pokemon during the late 1990s. At recess, literally everyone else in my class would “play Pokemon,” whether that meant they were actually playing the trading-card game or whether they were pretending to be characters from the show. Since I wasn’t allowed to participate, I was left alone on the swings, accompanied only by one of the lunch moms who took pity on me. (Her name was Mrs. Stevenson. She was funny. I liked her. For Halloween, she wore an ugly holiday sweater with Froot Loops glued all over it and said she was a ‘cereal killer.’)

We weren’t allowed to watch Sailor Moon, or Rugrats, or Dragon Ball Z. We weren’t allowed to play with Furbies. We were allowed to accept Beanie Babies as gifts, but our parents were too poor to buy us any, so I think the most I had was about six.

We were also (wrongly) informed that people different from us were all stupid. I questioned this from a young age, asking why people were different, but instead of actually answering me, my mom would go “Exactly!” as though that settled that.

So when I asked why African Americans spoke differently or dressed differently or said things like “black pride,” I was told it was because they were entitled and because they thought they were special, but that they were foolish and wrong. It was only later, on my own, that I learned they don’t do these things to set themselves apart from the rest of society out of some weird petty desire to be special and different, but because we stole their culture from them, and they need to reclaim an identity that they can be proud of. The system is stacked against them, so every act of embracing their blackness is an act of rebellion against the system that tries to crush them every day. They speak differently because of where they live, because of history and culture that have shaped their words that way, and if their grammar is improper, that’s most likely due to underfunded school districts, but it could also be code-switching so they fit in with their peers.

And when I asked why anyone would be anything other than Christian if the Bible really was the word of God, and God was real, I was told it was because they’re too stupid or jaded to see the truth. So when my uncle came out as Muslim when I was a teenager, our family ostracized him, berated him, and made fun of him relentlessly behind his back, because we all thought he was stupid. It was years later that I became an atheist and I realized the questioning process he must have gone through, the philosophy he must have studied, the books upon books he must have read, the agonizing introspection he must have endured, all while living under his parents’ roof... 

We were told that we were smart. That we were important and special. 

But we were also taught that we were constantly on the razor’s edge of being undeserving of love or redemption.

Naturally, this caused me to form strong attachments to characters like Loki, Bucky, and the Beast from Beauty and the Beast- characters who others saw as monstrous, but who seemed worthy of redemption, who didn’t seem to deserve everything that was done to them, even as much as they blamed themselves or got down on themselves sometimes.

The constant messages of “you need to be perfect or else” and “you are a disappointment,” accompanied by my dad’s ridiculously high standards, made me desperate for approval. 

I sought favor with my parents nearly every day, but was so often disappointed- especially by my dad. Even when I’d done something I was really proud of, he’d find ways to poke holes in it, talk down to me, call me stupid, and ask something to the effect of why I’d made such a horrible decision.

So I started looking elsewhere.

Friends. Partners. Teachers. Professors. Therapists. Co-workers. Bosses. Other people’s moms. Members of groups I joined. Anywhere I could get it, I was (and still am) constantly thirsty for validation, praise, and approval.

My parents probably weren’t trying to do this, but they taught me to constantly second-guess myself. They taught me that I needed to ask for permission to exist.

One of the things that was brought up over and over again whenever one of us would upset Mom was that “she gave birth to you.” On one memorable occasion, my dad went into graphic detail about how exactly the birthing process worked. He made it sound like some sort of accomplishment, or personal favor, that I should be forever grateful and reverent towards. But I never asked for this. Giving birth was something she couldn’t avoid. I should have never been guilt tripped into feeling like I owed her something for it.

Whenever my dad was a certain flavor of upset, he’d bark “Get out of my sight!” We would flee to some far corner of the house, behind some closed door, and cry where no one could see. In that moment, he had ceased to give permission to exist in his presence.

So when I first came out as trans, I struggled a lot, because I felt like I constantly had to ask everyone around me for permission to be myself.

It’s tragic that, in retrospect, everyone would have respected me a lot more if instead of asking, I had simply told them who I am and then been myself. I should never have felt so timid, so cowed. I should never have felt like I owed anyone an apology for asking them to use my name and my pronouns.

I should have been free to be me.

But when I lived under my parents’ roof, I wasn’t free. I was forced to hide, to pretend. I was forced to let them deadname and misgender me. I was still forced to attend church until I moved out-- I got out of attending weekly mass by pleading that it was detrimental to my mental health, after being forced to attend masses as an atheist for over a year. But in order to keep a roof over my head, I was still forced to attend Christmas and Easter mass every year, and badgered to attend more masses at nearly every opportunity.

I had to lie about who I was dating too. I had to hide all the ups and downs- the euphoria of new crushes and new relationships, the agony and heartbreak of breakups or bumps in the road. I couldn’t ask my parents for advice navigating this extremely important part of my life. Instead I had to figure it all out on my own, and lie, and pretend they were my “friends.”

My parents made me feel as though I couldn’t do anything on my own.

So to this day, I still often feel like I have to ask for help or for moral support in order to get things done. Not everything, but anything that my partner could feasibly be involved in or have any opinion on whatsoever. Filling out forms, looking things up, buying food, scheduling our week.

And anything that I’m not 1000% sure my friends would invite me to, or anything I’m not 1000% sure they want me to do, I’ll hang back on or stay silent. Any sort of physical affection that I’m not 1000% sure is welcome, I’ll hold back on or I won’t even offer, because I’m so scared of rejection or retaliation. Any complaints that I have, I’ll run by someone else first, and sit on for often weeks or months before I bring it up, if I ever bring it up, because I’m so worried that someone’s temper will flare, or that they will grow cold and distant and cut me off from their affection/ attention/ presence.

My parents never taught me how to ask for things.

They never taught me how to tell people things, simple things, like “I’m going to the store,” or “I’m a guy actually,” or say “Oh, you’re going to meet up with a bunch of people I know? Can I come?”

I’m self-taught in a lot of things, but socializing is one of them.

And as I’m sitting here typing this, I’m waiting for my partner, because we have to get through a lot of paperwork and beaurocratic nonsense this week, and even though not all of it strictly needs to involve her, I still feel like I can’t do it on my own.

It’s okay to ask for help. That’s something I’ve had to get used to too.

But sometimes I worry if I ask for too much help. >_<

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Internal Disputes ch.2 (baon)

Summary: Something strange is afoot. Edge isn’t sure what, but he can guess he isn’t going to like it.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter One | 

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge wasn’t sure what to expect from Stretch when he finished telling him the situation. Anger and disappointment, certainly, he and both Sanses had issues about broken promises. Perhaps it had been reckless of Edge to make such a promise to begin with, but he couldn’t have foreseen these circumstances. It was a lesson learned, he supposed, and a mistake he wouldn’t make again, but for now it wasn’t him who would be hurt by breaking it.

Sitting next to him on the sofa, the only change in Stretch’s expression was an increasing blankness. Of all reactions, he didn’t anticipate Stretch standing up silently and moving away from him. Automatically, Edge grabbed his sleeve, well accustomed to the ways of teleporters, but Stretch ripped it away almost absently. He didn’t shortcut off, only moved to stand in front of one of the windows, looking out. Dusk came early these days, but Edge sincerely doubted he was admiring the scenery.

“Love--” Edge began, but Stretch interrupted him.

“this weekend,” he said slowly. He stood with his back to Edge, arms crossed over his chest. “you’re going for this weekend. not only that, you promised me next time you wouldn’t leave me here. you said you wouldn’t leave without me again.”

This was not at all a reaction Edge expected, this strange calm. He hesitated, trying to gauge his next words, but in the end, he only said,“Yes, it’s just for this weekend. I should be back by Monday night.” No reaction, Stretch didn’t so much as twitch, showing none of his normal nervous energy, and Edge didn’t know what to make of that. He plunged on, “I know I’m breaking a promise and I’m sorry, but-”

A sudden quiver went through Stretch, his shoulders briefly shaking, and the faint sound of a stifled sob made a lance of pain go through Edge’s soul. It was pure instinct to stand, to go to Stretch and comfort him, but Edge wasn’t accustomed to being the one causing him pain, and he could only stand helplessly as Stretch wrenched away from him, stumbling back. Now that Edge could see his face, he could see the tears limning his sockets, watched as one broke free, trailing down his cheek bone.

“you promised!" Stretch hissed. He wiped angrily at his face with his sleeve, leaving behind a faint streak of pale orange. “you told me next time you weren’t leaving without me!”

“And I don’t want to, I don’t have any choice,” Edge tried, with as much gentleness as he could.

A wasted effort, Stretch only laughed harshly, “oh, please, no choice? did asgore even try to find anyone else, or did he just dump this on you like he does everything else? just like always. i swear, you all follow him like he’s some great savior who brought us up from the underground when he didn’t do shit but manage to not murder one kid!”

Shock left Edge briefly speechless. He knew Stretch didn’t care for Asgore, but that was horribly unfair and not at all true. That was a festering wound that needed discussion, but not an argument he wanted to have right now, especially when Stretch obviously wasn’t about to listen to reason.

“This isn’t about Asgore,” Edge kept his voice low, even, ignoring the lick of irritated heat in his soul, “I’ve been working hard on this, there are a lot of Monsters and Humans depending on this deal.”

“yes, but you aren’t the only monster who works for the embassy! are you telling me no one else has been working hard on this?” His stillness broke and Stretch turned away, pacing the length of the living room with short, brisk steps, hands twisting together.

“Yes, of course, but I’m the one who can do this!” Edge snapped. He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to keep his temper. They didn’t need both of them snarling and angry, and Stretch might be lashing out from his hurt, but he was hurting, blast it.

“do what? play bodyguard?” Stretch scoffed, “bullshit, there’s plenty of monsters who can do that. or you can let me come along!”

“No,” Edge said immediately. Every part of him rejected that, for exactly the reasons Asgore already expressed. Besides, Stretch wouldn’t be content to stay at the hotel, there was no question of that. He would be the only Monster in the city, wandering around alone, but surely that wouldn’t be for long. It would be trending on social media in seconds, less than, a public relations nightmare, and-- “I can’t endanger you like that.”

He knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment the words came out, all the fucking hells. Stretch stopped his pacing and looked at him incredulously, “are you serious right now? wow, thanks, kevin costner, but i don’t need a bodyguard. i’m supposed to stay tucked home safe but you can endanger yourself? blue? toriel and frisk? that’s nothing but an excuse! why can’t i come?”

This was spiraling out of control, far worse than Edge anticipated, “You wouldn’t be able to come to the meetings with us, you don’t have the clearance!”

“i have enough clearance to play all kinds of lab games for asgore but not enough to attend a meeting about rent and parking lots?”

“But no one else knows that!” Edge caught himself on a snarl. His LV, so agitated of late, was shifting uneasily in his soul and he viciously suppressed it. Not now, damn it, not now. “As far as most of the Embassy knows, you’re only a homemaker. I can’t bend the rules for you and even if I did, you’d be sitting there bored and fidgeting all day, you-“

“oh, now we’re getting down to it,” Stretch interrupted him and his smile was unpleasant, reminiscent of a very long time ago, back when the only emotion between them was closer to hate and every word was a weapon, “you don’t trust me to be able to behave properly for you. yeah, okay, i get it. go, have a grand time. it wasn’t like this weekend was anything important anyway.”

“What? That isn’t at all what I meant--" Edge began. Too late. In between one word and the next, Stretch was already gone and Edge had no idea where. He sank down heavily on the sofa, rubbing in between his sockets where a headache was looming.

Well, that went well.

Foolish of him to do this without Red or Sans here, at least they could have piggybacked on his shortcut and followed him.

No, it wouldn't have mattered. He should have known better than to promise and he didn’t have time to stay and make it up to him. The other diplomats were already waiting on him and the sooner they were gone, the sooner they could return.

Somehow, he’d make it up to Stretch when he got back, Edge told himself firmly. This was nothing more than an argument and they’d gotten past much worse. Perhaps he’d overreacted, and his accusations were going to need a long, serious discussion, but it was far from the ugliest spat they’d ever had.

Still, Edge couldn’t stand the idea of him suffering here miserably the three days they’d be gone. Even worse, the only other member of their little family who was staying behind was Red. Not a greatly sympathetic soul, his brother, and his idea of comfort might well end with a dustpan. That brought back his memory of dinner last night, the knowledge that something else was bothering Stretch, something to do with his brother. Who was also leaving him to go to California.

Whatever heated, lingering irritation of his own extinguished into cold clarity as he thought of Stretch being essentially alone for the entire weekend, hurting and feeling abandoned. The thought of it was nearly as painful as thinking of him wandering a strange city on his own, surrounded by curious, possibly aggressive Humans.

But Stretch didn’t need to be alone in New New Home.

Edge sat up, digging for his phone and quickly selecting a contact. It only rang once, Jeff’s voice curious on the other end of the line, “Edge? Hey, what’s up?”

He didn’t have the time nor the inclination to hedge. “I need a favor.”

“Name it,” Jeff said immediately, and someday he would talk to everyone in his family who hadn’t come from Underfell about agreeing to things without hearing the details first. Although Sans probably only needed the part about leaping into situations without considering the outcome.

“I need your discretion on this, few people know, but I’ll be going on a diplomatic assignment this weekend. Stretch is…” Edge hesitated, unwilling to share their private argument, “You’ll excuse me for not sharing the details, but Stretch is unhappy about it. Can I ask you to check in on him over the weekend? I don’t expect anything past your normal friendship, but--”

“Sure I can,” Jeff said. He sounded faintly amused. “I did know about the assignment, though, Blue told me earlier.”

Fuck, he’d even forgotten for a moment that Jeff was living with Blue. He needed to get himself together, now. “Of course he did, I am sorry.”

“It’s good, you sound a little rattled and I so didn’t mean to make a skeleton joke there,” Jeff laughed awkwardly, but settled into seriousness, “Look, I won’t get into the middle of whatever you two have going on, but I don’t have a problem being a friend.”

“Thank you,” Edge said, gratefully. That was the best he could do for now. He disconnected the call and heaved himself off the sofa, running upstairs. Time was running out on him and he needed to hurry.

Still, something was niggling at him as he quickly packed; he’d known Stretch would be upset about the broken promise but this reaction was so far out of proportion. Disappointment, he’d expected, perhaps some anger, but this? He’d mentioned this weekend more than once, what was-

Edge stilled, the shirt hanging from his hands crumpling to a ball as his fists clenched. It clicked, a key turning in the lock of his thoughts.

This weekend was their first anniversary.

Their first wedding anniversary and not only would Stretch be spending it alone, he thought Edge had forgotten.

He hadn’t, of course he hadn’t, he’d even been making plans. As much as Edge enjoyed grand gestures, this first anniversary he’d anticipating spending the night in, preparing a meal of both their favorites to enjoy in front of the fireplace for an evening of private romance.

The grand gesture came in the gift Edge planned to give him; a touch ridiculous to some, perhaps, but he knew his husband, knew he would love it. The little origami figures Stretch often snuck into his lunch bag made Edge curious enough to learn how to fold a few himself and it was while researching those that he learned of the tradition of folding one thousand paper cranes for a wedding. According to the legend, such a thing would grant good health and good luck, perhaps even a wish.

He’d also learned paper was considered by some to be the traditional gift for a first anniversary and it seemed like the perfect combination of traditions, something to inspire interest in Stretch, whether he knew about the legend and would delightful explain it to Edge in his own way, or he didn’t and would listen entranced while Edge explained it. Either way, Edge was very much looking forward to giving him the garland of paper cranes he’d been folding at night after Stretch fell asleep, each one painstakingly made and strung. It had been sitting finished and hidden for a few weeks now, waiting to be given, for Edge to be given a chance to see the happiness light up Stretch from within when he saw it.

But Asgore’s unexpected request made the dates slip his mind, and Stretch, who already felt poorly used by Asgore now felt like Edge was choosing him over his husband.

Fuck.

He fumbled out his phone, calling Stretch without much hope. It went straight to voicemail, not unexpectedly. Edge sank to sit on the bed, his skull in his gloved hands.

It was too late to call this off, the diplomats needed a guard and even if there was someone else who could handle it, there wasn’t time to make the arrangements. He didn’t have a choice.

There was a faint tremor in his hand that Edge ignored as he selected Stretch’s contact again on his phone, choosing this time to send him a text, I love you. He followed it with a number of the ridiculous emoticons Stretch adored, even if Edge didn’t always understand the meanings behind them.

There was no reply, not that he truly expected one. It still hurt and it was not his LV stirring in his soul as he roughly finished his packing and zipped up his suitcase. He’d make it up to Stretch when he got home, he’d fix this, but until then, he needed to be focused on his duties.

It didn’t make leaving the house any easier, light pouring out from the living room window because Edge didn’t want Stretch coming home to a dark room. It would be fine, they’d get past this.

And if he found himself fiddling with his wedding band far too often, well, he had an entire flight to California to settle his mind.

~~*~~

TBC

Notes:

Okay, I know what you’re thinking.

“But Keely! Their anniversary is in October and you already posted a Halloween story! What gives!”

I know, I know, I try to write this series sort of ‘in the now’, but I got my timeline a little wonky here. This story has been planned for a while but I couldn’t quite get my writer brain focused on it.

So my options were to hold off on the Halloween story and have kids trick or treating in November, or drop this storyline. Neither idea appealed so we’ll have to pretend that I didn’t mess up the dates and all is well. I might rearrange the story order later, might not, for now, go with it for me?

Cause, you know, it’s astounding. Time is fleeting. Madness takes its toll...

Also hj_skb did a picture for this over on twitter! Please go look!

[lygerastia]

emotional jinx (Nero) - Part 3

Summary:  You are Nero’s childhood friend who disappeared on him one day, leaving him heartbroken and confused: and straight into Kyrie’s arms.

Now, you have returned–and the demon hunter’s world turns around as he remembers his forgotten feelings for you. But he’s with Kyrie and… What will he do? And what will you do when Nero believes you like Dante?

Warnings: none

Chapters: 3 / 4 [Completed] 

READ IT ON AO3.

Part 1. / Part 2. / Part 3. / Part 4. 

**

Things have changed; and you had no idea why.

No—you did. Ever since Nero found out that you ‘liked’ Dante, the younger demon hunter started ignoring you. Or, more like, stopped being personal with you. He still talked to you like nothing was wrong, but there wasn’t any warmth in his words. Whenever he was around you, he acted as if he wanted to be somewhere else entirely. It hurt. It was as if you were acquaintances and not childhood friends who went through a lot in the past. He wasn't acting like your partner lately—and you didn't even bother to partner with him after that. In fact, you did the opposite: you resorted to hanging out with Dante—just out of spite. You loved Nero's small scowls whenever he saw you two around, even if he had no right to. Sometimes he made rude remarks about you two getting a room, to which Dante responded by hugging or kissing you on the cheek (very sensual, might I add). That would leave Nero fuming. 

It was kind of annoying, but you pretended like nothing was wrong. If Nero wasn’t going to believe you, then fuck him. You enjoyed making him squirm. Everything that happened with Dante was casual, especially when Nero was not around. He's been missing lately; you didn't want to think about him spending time with Kyrie, but that's probably why he was gone all the time.  And was it just you, or was he sulky? 

You moved on. You didn't care: if he wasn't going to talk to you, then so be it. He's a big boy now, he can take care of himself and solve whatever problems he had. 

So here you are, after a long day’s work, chilling in (surprisingly) peace and quiet in the van, on the couch. No one’s there to bother you, everyone went about their business. The perfect time to get lost in thoughts and maybe sleep. You just wanted to close your eyes and—

“[name]!” So much for that.

You let out a long, dejected sigh, “What is it, Dante?” You shouted, cursing Dante for not leaving you alone on this fine day.

“Yo!” The brusque opening of the door startles you and you blush, angered that he made you jump. “Hah, did I scare you?”

“Fuck off, Dante. What do you want?” You resume your relaxed position, willing him away. 

“Well,” Dante closes the door and you hear his boots clomping on the floor, “I need you for something.” He sits down on the couch, at your feet. His fingers tentatively comb over your knees, but don’t go any further up.

“What? Not another prank of yours, please.”

“No, no, nothing like that—in fact, today I am serious.” That took you by surprise; that it rarely happened. Something was troubling him. You wondered what it was so you opened your eyes and stood up, giving him your full attention.

He deserved it—and you were genuinely curious about helping him.

“Wassup then, my mischievous demon hunter?” you ask, staring into his beautiful eyes. You started to feel slightly uncomfortable at the closeness between you two; but it’s nothing new. Being alone with him put you on the edge, even if Nero was not around. And about the topic of this serious discussion…

Nah. No way—

“It’s about Nero.”

Your heart instantly calmed down and you let out a suppressed sigh that you didn’t know you had inside. At least it’s not about you and Dante; but then anxiety crept up inside your heart, cold tendrils chilling your blood.

What was it with Nero?

Did something happen to him?

Was he hurt?

Missing?

All of these questions, Dante could read on your face, and he tried to reassure you with a smile.

“Nothing serious, promise,” he tells you. “It’s just—ugh, how the hell am I going to tell you this?” He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, frustrated. 

“With words?” you try to joke, but it comes out dry. What was going on here? He takes a deep breath, “Nero and Kyrie—” What about them? “—they broke up.”

The world comes tumbling down like thunder. You lose focus for a few seconds, your head spinning with shock and shame that the first thought that crossed your mind was: “I have a chance now!” That was horrible. You didn’t really mean it for them to break up. You wanted Nero to be happy, not miserable—and if Kyrie was his special one, then so be it. Hearing this piece of information baffled and upset you. Sure, Nero could’ve lied about how well he is doing in this relationship, but he was an honest person. He wouldn’t lie. So—

“Wha—” your throat feels dry, and you have to gulp to stabilize your voice. “What happened?”

Dante shrugs, “The kid won’t tell me. He was just mopey lately and then BAM! this pops out.” You noticed Nero was rather pissed off about something—or even slightly nostalgic. Maybe even sad, conflicted about something. You thought it was because of you and the fact that you were ignoring each other and obviously not working together. That was foolish—you were not that important and it’s not like he cared that much about you. You’ve been gone for a long time...

“I never noticed…” you say, heartbroken. You should’ve paid more attention to him and not act so butthurt. You could’ve helped him get past this, persuade him to not do it. He lost his mind, clearly. You could’ve done so much…

And yet you did nothing.

“Shit.”

Dante puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, but you don’t feel better. Nothing could make you feel better. Maybe just talking to Nero would, but did he really want that? To talk with you? How can you even approach such a subject? ‘Oh, hey, Nero, how are you and Kyrie lately?’ And then he’ll burst into tears because he was a crybaby when he was little. But he’s a grown man now—he’s different. You’re different and you can handle this, can’t you?   

“I want you to talk to him,” Dante seems to have the same idea. “You’re the closest to him. Maybe you can cheer him up.” He lowers his gaze, looking troubled. “I don’t know what to do.”

That warmed your heart, to be honest. “Never knew you cared so much about Nero, Dante.” Your laughter makes Dante’s cheeks go slightly pink, but he hides it well behind the white veil of hair. That was sweet of him. But you weren’t sure if you were the right choice for this; could you still cheer him up like you used to before? 

“I care about you all,” Dante interrupts your line of thought. You lift your head just in time to meet Dante’s lips on your forehead. It made you gasp in surprise—and your chest swelled with warmth. You closed your eyes and had a stupid smile on your face. Maybe this was all possible after all. “I just don’t show it.”

“Awww—”

“If you tell anyone, I’ll kill ya.”

“My lips are sealed,” you swear.

“Now go talk to Nero.”

With a deep sigh that gathers up your courage, you ask Dante where you can find the boy. He tells you he’s not far, chilling (as much as he could) on the roof of a nearby building. You were parked on the outskirts of the city, away from trouble. There were a few buildings around where Nero could’ve run—but still, it’s going to take some work.

Never mind; you’ll do this. For Nero’s sake.

Thanking Dante for warning you, you’re halfway to get out of the room when Dante calls after you: “Just don’t let him go this time.”

You don’t wait to ponder his words: and you don’t want to. He probably knows too much anyway, either by luck or he’s just very observant. But he’s right—you won’t let Nero alone anymore, no matter how much he hates you. He needs you, even if he won’t admit it. He always did; and you always needed him too. You loved him so damn much and he was a fool for being so blind. And you were a fool for letting him go before; you didn’t even hope to be his girlfriend or something—just for him to accept you again.

You’re out in the chilly air (you couldn’t really believe it was summer) and jump on a nearby building with ease. Looking back and forth, left and right, you try to decipher Nero’s silhouette in the dark, but you don’t spot him easily as you’re roaming. How far could he have gone? You have no idea—and just when you were about to move on, you catch a whiff of his smell. You follow it, heart rate increasing with each step. You jump onto another building and the scent is getting stronger: you’re on the right path. And, surely, you see his back as he’s sitting on the ledge, overseeing the city. You let out a huff, louder, in case he didn’t figure out you were here. This was it. You don’t hesitate as you carefully walk over, acting as if you weren’t losing your mind with worry over him. He looks so peaceful as he’s sitting there, soaking up the moon’s rays, dousing him in an ethereal light, the city glinting with yellow orbs like stars. It was a rather beautiful (and romantic) scenery, but you didn’t come here to admire the panorama.

You’re here for Nero.

He knows you’re there; of course he does. He turns his head halfway and you can see his chiseled profile. As perfect as ever and you catch your breath in your throat. But there is no time for fangirling over him. You’ve seen him a thousand times (and it never gets old) but no—focus on the task at hand, [name]. Nero says nothing as you slowly approach him, hands behind your back to appear nonchalant. You arrive by his side, his eyes trained on you curiously (yet almost predatory). You try not to shudder at the intensity in his gaze as you sit down next to him, as close as possible, without invading his privacy. He says nothing, returning his gaze to the moon, but you feel his warmth and sadness pouring out of him and your heart squeezes painfully. You want to help him be better, smile again; you should’ve been there for him when he needed you to be. Fuck that stupid prank: so what if he believed you liked Dante when it wasn’t true? You could’ve proved him wrong by never being with Dante. He was more like a (hot) father figure to you.

It didn’t matter now. You were here—and you had to make things right.

“Nero—”

“I know why you’re here,” he cuts you off, abruptly. You don’t know why he’s so pissed off about, frowning and furrowing his brows. “You’re here to pity me.”

You shake your head, confused, “Why would I do that?”

“Everyone does. As if I got dumped.” There’s bitterness in his voice.

“Weren’t you?”

He snaps at you, “Do you really think Kyrie is capable of that? She loves me.” You say nothing. I love you too. Instead, you shrug and he goes on, answering your unsaid question. “I did it because I couldn’t lie to her anymore.”

That caught your attention. “Lie about what?”

But he doesn’t answer straight away and changes the subject, “How are you and Dante?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Really? Dante? He’s so stupid.

“Just—” he pleads you with his eyes, and you listen, “Just—answer the question.”

You sigh, shaking your head as if he’s a big baby (which he is) that didn’t understand when you told him the first time. “Nero, I told you it was just a stupid joke. Nico thought it was funny, but obviously it wasn’t.” You cross your arms, pouting. You haven’t forgiven Nico yet for lying, but lately, you’ve warmed up to her. The deed was done and you’re not one to hold grudges. “I can’t believe you all fell for it,” you felt like over-explaining yourself. But he wasn’t looking very happy with your response. “Dante is like a father to me. He’s attractive but—”

“Please, say no more,” he raises a hand to stop you, exasperated. “I don’t want to hear what you think about Dante.”

You playfully punch him in the arm, forgetting yourself for a few seconds. “Honestly—didn’t I hear you enough gushing about Kyrie? How does that make me feel?” You try to joke but the subject is too sour for Nero and he doesn’t respond. You sigh and add, just to reassure him, “I—I like someone else.”

That certainly caught his attention and he turns his head toward you so hard you were afraid it was going to pop. “What?” His eyes are wide with surprise and hurt and jealousy—and it hits you hard. “Who? When? How?” He was trying to find too much; and you weren’t sure you were in the mood to confess.

You twiddle with your thumbs, avoiding his inquisitive gaze. “I’m not going to tell you…”

“Why not? You’re my best friend! Do I have to remind—”

“We haven’t been acting like best friends lately…” you interrupt in a sad tone, a fleeting gaze in his direction. He shuts up and you feel bad. You chastise yourself: why were you making this harder than you need to? “Sorry, Nero. I didn’t mean to. But—” you inhale deeply, shaking, “—I’ll tell you who I like if…If you tell me why you broke up with Kyrie.”

He purses his lips, ponders the idea then, with sweaty palms and thundering heart, he feels ready. Well, as ready as a heartbroken man could be, after making the biggest decision of his life. He’s going to face you head-on, heart open, not lies. He left Kyrie to do this; he got nothing else to lose but you, if you’re going to reject him now.

No time to be afraid.

So many maybes, so many ifs…

He should just go for it. Nero shyly grabs your hand, interlacing your fingers with yours. You’re taken aback, but you don’t pull away, looking at him with questioning eyes—and fear. What was going on here? He doesn’t let on into anything, despite usually being open like a book. He hides from you, jaw set tight. He’s tense and he’s slightly squeezing your hand, nervously. This was nerve-wracking and you hate the tiny hope blooming into your chest.

You squeeze his hand back, encouragingly.

“Kyrie’s a good girl, she deserves better—but she’s not you.”

The words catch you unawares, but they’re soft and warms your heart. You relax and accept the meaning as if this was normal. You want to fly away to the moon with him in tow, to kiss him just then and there, to hug him and cry, tell him how much you loved him in return. But you suppress that suffocating affectionate feeling and wait for him to continue. It was kind of hard, though, fighting that smile off our face, the blush from your cheeks. You try to hide it behind your hand, though.

You squeeze him harder, giving him a sign that it was ok.

Nero can’t find his words, but he tries to. He has so much to say to you, he just doesn’t know where to start. It wasn’t as if his relationship with Kyrie was a lie; he really did care about her and he loved her in a different way than he did you. It has just been so easy for him to push you out of his mind when you left. He did it because he was hurt, he did it because he was young and curious and he was attracted to Kyrie. He did it because he never believed you’d like him back and he didn’t want to ruin your relationship. You were just kids—then all turned serious and you were gone and he was lost. When you came back, his whole world turned upside-down and feelings he thought he forgot came back, making him confused. He was in love with you again, like before. He got jealous over you liking Dante and, as much as he tried to deny it, he couldn’t. You were back in his life and he couldn’t lie to Kyrie anymore. He had to break it off—he did, explained everything and it was fine. As much as it could be in this situation. He hated himself for doing this to her, after everything they’ve been through. But it wasn’t fair—not for her, not for him, and not for you. He was risking it all here.

And he found his words.

“You weren’t supposed to come back. But you did—and I realized I never forgot you.” He’s getting emotional again, despite trying to hide it so badly.

You give him a helping hand, “You know who I love, Nero?”

The moment of truth—at least for him. He doesn’t know what you’re feeling, but you didn’t pull away until now so he has high hopes. Content with all of this, you rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

“You. It was always you.”

“Really?” He can’t believe it and his voice is quivering, but he’s happy. He puts an arm around your shoulder, bringing you even closer to him. “You’re not fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“I’d never.” You’re smiling like a fool. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear this.”

“Haven’t said anything, though.”

“You want to say this wasn’t a love confession from you, Nero?”

He shrugs, but then softly kisses your hair. “I don’t know. You tell me.” “I think it was. Stop trying to act all cocky,” you laugh.

“You like me cocky, don’t lie.”

You let out an ugly chuckle, “We haven’t got there yet, ass.”

It feels good to joke like this and it eases the tension between you two. You stay there, in silence, enjoying each other’s presence and thinking about what all this new information means for either of you. Will you take the next step and be together? But what about Kyrie? That would hurt her, won’t it? You can’t just act like assholes in front of her. But you oh-so-wanted to be together with him—finally.

“So, what now?” you have to ask.

“I still can’t get my head wrapped around this,” Nero answers. “All’s too fresh.”

“Yeah,” you admit. You didn’t want to feel guilty about being with Nero. “Do you think we should wait, figure things out?”

“I know what I want, it’s just—”

“I understand. Kyrie’s my friend too. I never meant it to end like this. My feelings for you—they were going to stay hidden.”

“You would have done that?”

“For you, yes. Anything to make you happy.”

Nero scoffs, “Cheesy.”

“Don’t underestimate my feelings,” you laugh.

“Never again.”

With that, you fall into silence again; but it was a comforting silence, one that spoke many words. You knew what you had to do: wait until you were ready to come out to the others that you were in a relationship. Because this what it was about, there’s no doubt. You two were together—what else was there? Whatever his decision, you’re going to accept it.

“Should we go back?” Nero asks after noticing you slightly shivering. He pulls you even closer to his hot body.

“Can I get a kiss if we do?” You ask, cheekily.

The young demon hunter flushes red in embarrassment and you’re glad you sneaked a peek at him. He looks so adorable, eyes bright, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He looked soft and—dare you say it out loud—in love? Ha ha. Nero—in love—with you. That’s a funny thought. It was so funny to you that you burst into soft laughter; a thing that startles him. He lets you go as you stand up, stretching. Your whole mood lifted—and you were glad that you made him happy too. Things were looking great (ok, but you were still feeling bad about Kyrie, hope she’ll forgive you two).

“I was just joking, Nero, don’t look at me like that.” The demon hunter looked lost—but you didn’t need a kiss from him to prove anything. His words and actions were enough. “Come on, let’s go.”

You turn around to go, expecting him to follow you. You hear him stand up—then your name coming out of his mouth. Before you could turn around on your own, he grabs your wrist and pulls you toward him. You stumble into his arms, but he’s quick to react and lifts your chin. He meets you straight-on, a bit clumsy, a bit too forceful. But your lips were on his—and it was a kiss alright. It’s brief and you crave for more sweetness, but he doesn’t let you. He’s smirking as if he pulled the biggest prank on you—the cocky little shit. Yet that tiny blush on his cheeks was giving him away. Nero always was a nervous wreck when it came to romance, but it’s nice to see him so confident. 

“What—”

“It’s a promise, [name].”

There’s more where this came from. –

[masterlist]

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Green Wounds, Ch. 3

And we’re back! Just a quick note about the pictures: they’re supposed to give a general idea of what Starchild is wearing every chapter. I’m sure you all deduced that yourselves already, but I just wanted to clear that up. 

Anyway, this is mostly a filler chapter, but some interesting stuff happens! Oof, I apologize, I’m really putting Starchild through the wringer in this one. I still can’t believe I managed to stretch out a maybe-five-minute-long scene in the movie into a chapter this long, but hey, that’s how I roll. I also decided to try something I’ve never done in a story before, so I hope it works out. Hope you enjoy!

Starchild lay on the riverbank in the little secluded glade, not wanting to move.

One, because if he moved even just a little bit the pain in his back would spike; two, because he felt too emotionally drained to move. He desperately wanted this all to be some horrible nightmare. His wings couldn’t be gone, lost forever with only the angry burns on his back as a memory of where they’d been. Ace couldn’t have been so cruel as to take his wings. Any other human, he could believe, but not Ace…

“That… was true love’s kiss.”

I thought he loved me…

But even as he prayed it was all a dream, even so, he knew it was no dream. His wings were gone, stolen by his beloved Ace.

And so he stayed where he was, not moving, crying until he couldn’t cry anymore. And after that he just lay there silently, staring blankly as the wind blew and sent the blossoms from the branches overhead flitting down to the ground.

As he was lying there, feeling the remnants of tear tracks on his face, a sudden rustling noise made him turn his head. His head was all he could move without causing any pain. Entering the clearing was a red fox. It padded in from out of the surrounding trees and went over to the lake. Starchild moved his head to follow it, and he watched as the fox dipped its head down to drink from the lake. Then the fox suddenly raised its head and turned around, until it was looking right at him.

The fox trotted over until it was beside him and there was only a thick tree root separating fox from faerie. It stared at him, so long that Starchild actually began to feel uncomfortably exposed under its stare. It was like the fox could see right into his soul, and knew of everything that had happened.

“Go away,” Starchild said lowly, his voice hoarse from all his crying. The fox stayed where it was, gazing at him. Then the fox leaned its head forward, sniffing at him.

Starchild quickly sat up, ignoring his back’s protest, and flung his arm wildly at the fox. “GO AWAY!” 

Dark purple magic burst from his hand and struck the fox, and Starchild heard it let out a whimper as it flew back and landed on the ground. The fox’s ear actually burned off at the tip. It quickly leapt to its feet and, to his relief, turned around and ran out of the glade. Breathing heavily, Starchild slowly laid back down again. He was hoping nothing else came into this glade, both so he wouldn’t have to get up and so no one would see him like this. Let the petals fall over him and cover him up, he thought. Cover up every inch of him until he could no longer be seen. At least then no one would be able to see how broken he was.

But eventually, the thought came to mind that he had to get up. He couldn’t just lie there forever, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to do something. 

Starchild slowly placed his hands on the ground and pushed himself up. His back throbbed in pain at the movement, but he ignored the pain and raised himself to crouch on his feet. Grabbing the tree for support, he pulled himself up to stand shakily on his feet, letting out a hiss of pain. He stayed still for a moment, waiting for his legs to stop trembling. When they were finally still, he blew out a shaky breath, let go of the tree, and took a step.

As soon as his foot touched the ground, his back screamed in pain, his legs gave out, and he fell to his knees. “Ah!”

He felt like crying all over again. He couldn’t even take a single step. How pathetic was that? And he was all alone. Almost no one knew about this glade, which meant he couldn’t call anyone for help.

As he looked down at the ground, trying to gather his strength to stand and try again, his eyes suddenly fell on a small, thin stick lying at the base of the trunk. Perhaps…

Starchild grabbed the stick. His light purple magic swirled around his hand, and the stick began to grow. It lengthened, the wood growing thicker, until finally in his hand was a long black walking stick. Gripping the walking stick, Starchild lifted himself to his feet again. Already it was feeling easier to do so, now that he had something to lean on.

He took a hesitant step. His back throbbed and his legs shook, but he didn’t fall. Leaning heavily on the walking stick, he took another step. Then another.

He spent a while walking slowly around the glade to get used to using the walking stick. When he finally felt he had the hang of it, he turned to leave the glade… and stopped.

He suddenly didn’t want to return to the heart of the Moors, where his tree and everyone else was. He could just see all the looks that would be on their faces, and could just hear Vinnie, Tommy, Erik, and everyone else’s voices as they demanded to know what happened. How could he tell them that he, protector of the Moors, had been fooled and betrayed by one of the very humans he was supposed to be protecting them from?

He couldn’t go there. But he couldn’t stay here, either. He had to get out of the Moors.

So instead of leaving the glade the way he’d entered, Starchild turned and went the other way, towards the edge of the Moors. He never stopped to think about what he would do once he was out of the Moors, although he did wonder for a moment what would happen while he was away. All he felt was a burning desire to get out of there. And they would all be fine; they still had Gene and the border guards to protect them.

Besides, he thought sadly as he walked, leaning on his walking stick, it’s not like you’re of much use now, anyway.

-*-

For days afterwards, Starchild wandered alone. It was the farthest from the Moors he’d ever been, and he supposed he should have felt afraid that he would be seen by humans. But Starchild was surprised to find he felt no fear. His emotions had been dulled by his heartbreak, replaced instead by pain, pain of the body and the heart. Yet still he wandered, eating the little food he could find and sleeping rarely and fitfully, thinking of nothing but Ace and his beloved wings, and wishing he knew why Ace had ripped them away from him.

Meanwhile, though life went on for the Fair Folk of the Moors, they all were seized with worry as they wondered where their protector had gone. And just as Starchild felt a creeping emptiness without his wings, for many Fair Folk the Moors felt empty without the presence of the faerie.

Gene walked solemnly toward the lake island, where Vinnie, Tommy, and Erik fluttered in wait for him. A few other creatures were gathered there too, watching expectantly as Gene arrived. “Did you find anything?” Vinnie asked him hopefully.

Although he hated to dash the pixie’s hopes, Gene still mournfully bowed his head and shook it. He and the border guards had scoured every inch of the outskirts of the Moors for the last couple days, trying to find any sign of where Starchild had gone. And today, they had even dared to venture a little away from the Moors, searching the surrounding forest and even beyond that, hoping to find something. But sadly, they’d found nothing.

The hopeful look melted from Vinnie’s face, and behind him, Tommy and Erik drooped slightly in the air. “I see…” Vinnie fluttered over and patted Gene’s cheek. “Thank you for looking.”

Gene grunted in reply, then left to return to his post, the other border guards doing the same. He just couldn’t understand it; not even two days after their victory against the humans, and Starchild suddenly vanished. According to some of the Fair Folk, those who lived near the back border, in the early morning the day Starchild disappeared, they had heard a long, loud wail from somewhere in the forest, that sounded so miserable and heartbroken they were afraid to investigate. By the time they gathered up enough courage to see where the wail had come from, the early afternoon, they had found nothing.

As Gene returned to his post, his thoughts turned to Starchild once again. He had known the faerie since he was a little baby, and had known his parents before that. They were both good faeries, and as Starchild grew older, it seemed all of their goodness had been passed onto their son. He’d been kind, gentle, and bright-hearted as a boy, traits that all stayed as he grew into a man. He was still kind, but at the same time ready to rip apart any foolish human who threatened the Moors. Gene was certain that if his parents could see him now, they would be as proud of their son as Gene was of him.

Worry and sadness settled in him. All they could do was continue searching, and hope Starchild returned home soon.

-*-

As Starchild continued to wander, the pain in his back began to fade. The burns were so deep and extreme that it was taking longer for his body to heal, but after a little over a week, he began to feel that the pain was fading. It still hurt, but eventually he just got used to the pain.

However, as the pain in his back stopped being a problem, Starchild became increasingly aware of another problem: his feet. He was barefoot, had been his entire life. He wore no shoes, simply because he hadn’t been aware they existed.

Until Ace, of course. And even though his heart hurt at any memories of Ace, he did remember Ace wore shoes. They had always been old and worn. He remembered asking Ace what they were once, leading Ace to explain shoes to him. At the time he’d thought shoes were rather silly.

Now, though… he was rethinking that. Although winter was far from settling in yet, the kingdom and the surrounding country were still cool and dreary in the late summer. So the ground was still hard and cold, and the wind biting. The wind hadn’t been a problem—he’d simply made for himself a long black coat, that he now wore over his purple tunic and trousers. But he couldn’t fix the problem of having no shoes as easily. His feet were freezing and ached from walking so much on the bare ground, and his toes felt stiff whenever he tried to move them. He could also feel an annoying prickling sensation in his toes that he actually hated more than the pain in his back. As much as he thought shoes were ridiculous, he still had to reluctantly admit that if he didn’t find himself a pair of shoes, at this rate his feet would freeze off.

As luck would have it, one day he was walking through a vast field of grain when he saw a structure in the near distance. It was a human house, a small one, and as he moved closer, he saw a human woman come out of the house carrying a basket of clothes in her arms. She turned her head and shouted something, to which he heard a male voice reply. When Starchild was close enough to the edge of the field, he crouched down low so the woman wouldn’t see him and watched her. The woman went over to two large wooden poles that had a long string running between them and began to hang up the clothes on the string using tiny wooden things. She was halfway done when something against the side of the house caught Starchild’s eye.

It was a pair of black leather boots.

As the woman finished her little task, Starchild kept staring at the boots, wondering what to do. He’d never stolen anything before. A part of him was even wondering if he ought to do it at all.

But then the prickling in his toes reminded him of its presence, and his decision was made.

When the woman had almost reentered the house, Starchild slowly stood up and started to cautiously walk into the yard of the house. But the rustling that came from his movements was loud enough to make the woman stop and turn around.

At the sight of him, the woman immediately screamed in fright and dashed into the house. “Mark!” he heard her cry out. “Mark, come quick!”

Wonderful.

Starchild walked towards the boots as quickly as he was able to and stooped down to grab them. He quickly scrutinized them; they seemed a bit too large for him, but they would have to do.

As Starchild turned to leave a human man ran into the yard, eyes wild and a pitchfork in his hand. His eyes fell on Starchild and he immediately shouted in alarm. “Demon!” he yelled, raising his pitchfork.

Starchild actually rolled his eyes. Oh please. He dropped the boots and held out his hand. There was a burst of purple magic, and the man slumped unconscious to the ground. Starchild grabbed the boots and quickly left the yard, his mind only briefly remarking at how unemotional he’d been through the entire incident.

-*-

The boots were indeed a little too large, but all that mattered to him was how his feet immediately felt warmer. He took a moment to rest before setting off again.

Night slowly fell, but he continued to walk, guided by the bright light of the moon. Eventually, he found himself staring up at a large, looming structure. It looked to be the ruins of a human structure, perhaps once a grand castle. Starchild’s lips curled into a frown at the sight of the ruins; humans really were hateful creatures.

Even so, it seemed a good place to sleep for the night. Starchild entered the ruins and, in spite of himself, looked around with some interest as he walked. The ruins looked as though they’d been there for decades, perhaps even centuries. He was walking over what remained of a bridge when sudden movement caught his eye.

A black cat had slunk into the ruins and leapt up onto the bridge ledge. As it passed him, it noticed his presence and stopped to turn and look at him. The cat seemed unfazed by his unusual face; instead it tilted its head and stared at him with an air of curiosity.

The cat’s stare reminded Starchild of the fox. He frowned at the cat, held out his hand, and forcefully blew purple dust at it. The cat’s head jerked back in surprise when the dust hit its face.

The cat hissed at him and bounded away. Starchild glared after it, then turned to go further into the ruins. His walking stick tapped against the stone, now clearly audible. All it did was make him remember why exactly he needed to use it in the first place.

Starchild’s other fist clenched, and deep purple magic swirled around it. He stopped and turned to the nearby remains of a column and threw out his hand. The purple energy burst from his hand and shot towards the column, and upon impact the column exploded. Feeling slightly better, Starchild continued on. At least he no longer felt like crying; now he just wanted to sleep. Even though when he slept, his dreams were always haunted by Ace and the memory of his wings, causing him to wake up screaming and crying once again.

Finally, he came to a place that seemed suitable enough. He turned nearby rubble into a bed of moss and moved to lie down. His back immediately screamed in protest, and he was forced to move at a snail’s pace, letting out grimaces of pain. When he was finally lying down on his side, he shifted to close his eyes, then froze. Something was missing.

And yet again, tears pricked at his eyes. Normally when he slept, his wings would wrap around him like a warm, safe cocoon. He’d never had to use a blanket; all he needed were his wings. Now, without them, he felt cold and incredibly paranoid. Was this what humans felt like? He hated it.

Starchild waved a hand in the air over himself. The light purple energy meshed together and solidified, forming black feathers woven together to make a blanket. It settled over him and he sighed, closing his eyes to fall asleep. It didn’t even come close to what his wings had been like, but it would have to do for now.

-*-

Darkness was closing in on him, cold endless darkness. He tried to fly away to escape it, but nothing happened. He fell to his knees and wept as he remembered: he had no wings now.

Suddenly Ace was in front of him, smiling mockingly, and behind him he could see his wings, sealed away in a case. The case shook as they tried to break free, but the case was wrapped in iron chains, trapping them inside.  

Ace was laughing now, the sound of his cruel laughter echoing through the darkness and bouncing off the inside of his skull.

“You did this to me!” Starchild screamed at him. “Why?!” Ace’s laughter grew louder and louder, surrounding him.

“Why?!” he wailed. “Why did you do this to me?!”

Starchild gasped and his eyes flew open. He rose up, his blanket of feathers falling off his shoulders. His back immediately throbbed in protest at the sudden action. Slowly, he laid back down and curled up, drawing the blanket over his shoulders as they shook with quiet sobs.

“Why?” he whimpered into the darkness. “Why, Ace, why?”

-*-

The sound of a yowling cat was what drew Starchild to the field the next day. His first thought was to ignore it and continue on his way, even though he was still technically wandering. But his curiosity won out, and so he snuck quietly into the field, passing a frankly ugly-looking scarecrow as he went, and peered through the reeds of wheat to watch the scene in the clearing.

A black cat was tangled in a rope net, flailing about and yowling loudly as it tried to get free. There was so much happening that Starchild couldn’t get a good look, but he was sure it was the same cat he had met at the ruins the night before. Large dogs stood nearby, barking loudly at the cat in a taunting sort of way, and alongside the dogs was a human male, a farmer it looked like, looking down at the cat and laughing triumphantly. “I’ve got ya!” he crowed.

Starchild rolled his eyes. Humans really were stupid.

He could just turn and walk away, leaving the human to his foolish activity. But at the same time, he didn’t want to leave the cat to the (nonexistent) mercy of the human farmer and his dogs.

His decision was made when the farmer turned to his cart and pulled out a fat wooden rod. He was going to beat the cat to death. “Ya mangy cat!” he shouted.

Starchild waved his hand, wisps of purple magic curling around his fingers. “Into a man,” he muttered.

Instantly, the cat began to grow larger, shocking the farmer so much he fell to the ground on his backside. The dogs’ barking grew more urgent as the cat’s limbs lengthened, its—no, his—tail shrank down, and the fur began to melt and lighten into human skin. The yowls turned into male human yells as the transforming human flailed and jerked in the net, that he was becoming increasingly too big to stay trapped in. As the last of the changes happened, the figure stood up and threw the net off himself. He stared down at his paws as they became human fingers, and with that the transformation was complete. What had been a black cat was now a fully grown human man with long black hair, covered head to toe in dirt and mud. The dirt and mud, at least, did a little bit to hide how completely naked he was, but not nearly enough for Starchild’s personal liking.

As the cat-man looked over himself in utter bewilderment, the farmer raced to his feet and ran off in terror, his dogs following close behind. “It’s a demon!” Starchild heard him yell. What was it with humans and demons?

Starchild straightened up, ignoring the resulting stabs of pain in his back, and entered the clearing. The cat-man looked up at him, and for a moment Starchild just circled him, both of them simply staring at each other.

Then the cat-man spoke. “What the hell’ve you done to my beautiful self?”

Starchild raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “That’s the first thing that comes out of your mouth?”

“Look at me!” the cat-man gestured to himself. “Dammit, I shoulda clawed your eyes out last night when I saw you!”

So he was the cat from last night. “Would you rather I let him beat you to death?” Starchild asked him.

The cat-man raised an eyebrow as he thought for a moment. “… I dunno. At least I’d still be me. And you…” He looked over Starchild, frowning in confusion. “What the hell are you supposed to be?”  

Well that was unnecessary. Starchild frowned coolly at him. “I just saved your life,” he stated. “The least you could give me is a thank-you.” He began to turn around to leave. “But if not, I could just turn you back into a cat and let the human come back and find you.”

He began to walk away, when the cat-man spoke again. “Wait!” When he turned, the cat-man lowered his head respectfully to him. “I’m, I’m sorry. You’re right. Thank you.”

Starchild almost smiled. “Better. Do you have a name?”

“Peter.” The cat-man, Peter, lifted his head. “And in return for saving my life, I am your servant. Anything you need, I’ll do it.” After a moment’s pause, he added, “Not in a weird way.”

Starchild was focusing more on his words before that. Anything you need, I’ll do it.

His ability to change Peter’s form wasn’t limited to just a human and a cat. He could change him into any animal he wanted. His original plan… okay, it hadn’t really been much of a plan. Whenever he wondered if he should return to the Moors, the answer was still a resounding no. His “plan” had been to simply wander around for a little while longer, then when he was ready (whenever that may be), he would finally return to the Moors and find out what he had missed. But with the opportunity he now had… perhaps he could find out what he had missed first. That could give him a better idea of what to do next.

“Have you ever flown before?” he asked.

Peter gave him a sarcastic look. “Yeah, because cats can fly. No, of course I haven’t.” His expression turned curious. “Why do you ask?”

He couldn’t fly, not anymore. But Peter could.

“Wings,” Starchild replied, and his back throbbed. “I need you to be my wings.”

He glanced over at the scarecrow, then walked past Peter to leave the clearing. “Take the clothes off the scarecrow and put them on. And try to clean yourself up a bit, too. I’ll explain as we’re leaving.”

He waited outside the clearing for Peter to get dressed, his foot tapping impatiently. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Peter emerged, wearing the black clothing from the scarecrow and looking at least a little cleaner from before. Considering he was a cat, Starchild didn’t even want to know how he’d cleaned himself off. “Okay,” Peter said to him. “Now explain.”

As promised, Starchild gave him his explanation as they left the field. Well, sort of; he left out his and Ace’s history, and just told him everything that had happened recently. He even forced himself to tell Peter the part about Ace taking his wings. Peter immediately gave him a look of sympathy. “Damn… I’m sorry.”

Starchild felt something go through his heart; whatever it was, it made him feel like crying again. He pushed the feeling away and scowled darkly. “I don’t need your pity,” he spat.

He finished explaining what he wanted Peter to do and described Ace’s appearance so he would have better luck finding him. “Leave when the sun sets and fly back to the ruins from last night. I’ll be there waiting. And don’t let anyone see you.”

“What if I don’t find out anything?”

“Then you’ll go back tomorrow morning and watch again.”

Peter thought about it, then nodded. “All right. Any, ah, any advice for flying?”

Starchild tried to reply as quickly as possible to keep the longing out of his voice. “Flap your wings to fly higher, keep them still to glide. You’ll learn as you go.”

And with that, he waved his hand again, wisps of light purple appearing. Peter shrank, growing long black feathers, until flapping wildly in the air beside him was a black raven. With a caw, Peter took off, flying into the sky and out of sight.

As Starchild watched him go, the feeling of longing welled up in him again, along with jealousy. He wished he could be the one flying right now, getting to experience that wonderful feeling of freedom.

But instead, he was stuck on the ground, and all the chains and cages in the world couldn’t make him feel more like a prisoner.

[heaven-asunder]

Rune Factory Fanfiction

Bacchus/Gerard: Pre-Relationship

SFW

Rain pattered hard on the roof of the church, coming down in sheets as Father Gerard gazed at it through the window. He disliked the rain as a whole, though he’d never say it. Too bleak, too cold, but he knew that without the rain no flowers would grow. A necessary evil. He sighed. The children were with Aden and Sonja, spending the day playing on Ymir, and he was sad for their absence. Rain was harder to deal with when he was alone with his thoughts. 

Just as he had all but decided to spend the rest of the day in bed, the doors to the church slammed open, and Gerard just about reached for a blade he no longer had until he saw who it was that had entered. Bacchus stood in the doorway, drenched to the skin, and clearly upset. 

“Yes? May I help you?” Gerard asked with a casual tone he didn’t feel. Bacchus rarely came into the church, let alone in the middle of a downpour. 

“Is Joe here?” he demanded, and Gerard raised his eyebrows at the question.

“I can’t say he is. He comes in less often than you.” There was no shame-wielding in his voice. He knew that religion wasn’t for everyone on a good day, but heavens knew he wouldn’t hold that holy guilt over someone clearly troubled.

“Dammit!” exclaimed Bacchus, turning out the door. “I told ‘im it’s too dangerous to go out on the sea today!” Gerard’s heart clenched. 

“Oh, you don’t really think he was actually foolish enough to go, do you?” he asked, still trying to keep the veneer of a collected holy man. Bacchus shook his head and raised his shoulders in a massive shrug.

“I don’t know. That kid thinks he knows everything. Headstrong, just like ‘is father was,” he said. Gerard shivered as the mist of rain still coming through the open door of the church chilled him to the bone. 

“He may be around,” Gerard offered. “I can have Mikoto search--”

“Mikoto’s already looking,” Bacchus cut him off.

“Then I’ll help you look as well,” Gerard said, before he could think about what he was saying. “We’ll find him, Bacchus. I don’t think he’s as foolish as you believe him to be.”

                                                        ---------

The rain stung as it pelted Gerard, but he kept stride with Bacchus. The man may be a seasoned fisherman, but Gerard had been a soldier, and had been in far more dire of straits before. They checked every house, every business, asking around to see if they had seen Joe. No luck. The younger man seemed no where in sight. After checking in at the Three Daughters Inn, Bacchus’ shoulders slumped, looking as defeated as one could. Gerard put a hand on his large arm.

“We haven’t checked the beach yet,” he offered, and Bacchus looked down at him. Gerard paused. He’d never thought about how strong Bacchus always was, until now. Now, he seemed small despite his bulk. A grandfather fearing for his grandson. Gerard could relate. If anything had ever happened to Kelsey or Quinn...

He didn’t like to think about it.

They trudged through the town until they got to the beach. The sand clung in clumps to Gerard’s shoes and the bottom of his clothes, and he gave up trying to shake it off after two failed attempts. He was soaked to the bone, and each shout of Joe’s name quivered in his throat as he shivered around the cold air. He was nearly hoarse, and he knew he’d probably wake with a cold the next morning. Still, he pressed on. 

Bacchus seemed all but ready to give up when their shouts were returned by a break in the thunder of the rain. Gerard was sure he was just hearing things, but Bacchus immediately perked up.

“Joe?” he shouted down the beach, towards the caves.

“I’m here!” came the response and Gerard nearly fainted with relief as a swath of red hair emerged from the cave.

“Was just waiting out the rain,” Joe said by way of an explanation.

“Just waitin’ out the rain? Boy, you could have done that back home!”

“I was already down here when it hit! I wasn’t gonna run all the way home when it’s pelting like this!”

“Gentlemen,” Gerard interrupted. He didn’t need to say more, as Bacchus gave him a once over. Without the fear for Joe, he finally realized that Gerard was wet to the bone, wearing nothing more than his cotton robes, and shivering like a small dog. 

“Look, you even got Father Gerard out looking for you,” Bacchus said to Joe. “Get home, and I’ll meet you there.” Joe made a move to speak, but Bacchus cut him off with a hand held up, and he huffed before walking up the beach. 

“Hey,” Bacchus said to Gerard, “I can’t thank you enough for helping me today. Any way I can repay you?”

“Oh, a strapping man like you? I’m sure I could think of something,” Gerard said with a wink. He turned before Bacchus could respond.

“You can start by walking me home,” he said over his shoulder, and Bacchus followed, coming up to his side with a few long strides.

Now that the danger was gone, Gerard was acutely aware of how miserable he was. Besides being wet and cold, he had a blister forming on the back of his heel and his hair was plastered awkwardly onto his forehead. He sighed once.

“I must look a mess,” he voiced. Bacchus looked him over and shrugged.

“I bet I don’t look so good myself,” he said. “I really do appreciate you coming to help me find the boy.” 

“What kind of priest would I be if I didn’t help?”

“I s’pose,” Bacchus replied. He grunted. “Still.”

They were silent the rest of the way to the church. Gerard didn’t mind. Bacchus had a sort of silence about him that never seemed awkward. To be true, Gerard envied that. To just be. There was too many shadows in his past for him to ever feel completely at peace. 

When the arrived to the church the first thing Gerard did was go up to his quarters and change. He brought Bacchus down some donated clothing that “may fit your bulk” but Bacchus turned him down.

“Just gonna get wet on my home anyway,” he reasoned, and Gerard couldn’t argue with that.

“At least let me offer you some tea to warm up for a bit,” Gerard pressed. Maybe it was that he just hadn’t wanted to be alone today in the first place, but he didn’t want Bacchus to go. 

“Oh, I think I might be able to stay for some tea,” Bacchus said, stroking his beard. Gerard perked up and put the kettle on, waiving Bacchus in to sit. He didn’t much mind him dripping on his floor anyway.

“Are you sure I cant at least offer you a dry shirt?” Gerard pressed again. Bacchus shrugged before pulling off his wet top, revealing his strong, defined muscles, and Gerard had to remind himself he was a priest as he looked away. Bacchus shuffled into the shirt that was just a touch too tight on him as Gerard poured the tea, and leaned back into his chair. When Gerard turned back, he nearly dropped the mugs. To hell with being a priest, was his first thought but he shook it away and placed a steaming mug in front of the other man. Bacchus reached for it just a touch too soon, brushing fingers with Gerard and they caught each others’ eyes. For a moment, something charged went between them, and Gerard stopped breathing with it, like the moment before falling. Bacchus cleared his throat and pulled back, and it was gone, They finished their tea with small talk and a strange inability to meet each others’ eyes before Bacchus finished his tea with a slurp and excused himself. On his way out, Gerard noted that the rain had stopped, leaving a cold breeze in its wake.

Aden and Sonja returned the kids an hour or so later, and Gerard readied them for bed, before tucking them in for a bedtime story. It was odd, though, that even with them there, he felt horribly lonely. He wished it hadn’t been an old hole in his heart, but he carried that with him far longer than he’d admit to anyone. Just as he was about to put out the light, Kelsey sat up in his bed.

“Father Gerard?” he asked. 

“Yes?”

“Why are you sad?” he asked, in his soft, timid way. Gerard was struck for a second. Leave it to the children to point it out. He smoothed the blankets on the boy’s bed out before sitting beside him, tucking him back in.

“I’m not sad,” he lied. “I just had a very long day helping Mr. Bacchus find Joe. Now you get some sleep, I’ll make you both pancakes in the morning.”

“Pancakes!” Quinn exclaimed. Gerard softly hushed her and turned out the light.

That night he barely got any sleep and when he did, he dreamed of rainstorms, soldiers in blood-soaked armor, and Bacchus.

The next morning he made pancakes and ignored that hole in his heart. Just as he did every day.

[parkjmini]

Outlier | 02

poly!au: park jimin x reader x kim jennie while your lovers said they needed you, you wondered if they knew how much you needed them. word count: 2721 genre: angst warnings: explicit language, mentions of illness and death

[an]: feedback would be greatly appreciated, hopefully it was worth the wait ??? 

prologue . 01 . 02 . 03

You stripped out of your clothes as your doctor had prompted you to slip into a thin paper gown. You kicked your legs, waiting for her to come back. The room was filled with cotton swabs, cotton balls, cotton pads, popsicle sticks, everything that a doctor would probably use.

It was your third time back within the week. The first was to speak on your symptoms. The second was the draw blood to get it tested. The third was the final check up. You were beginning to become very afraid of what the issue was.

Jennie and Jimin didn't bother to call you while they were gone. Jennie didn't post on her social media of the great time they were having. It was almost like they fell off the face of the Earth. You were too stubborn to call them first. It was your pride on the line. You wanted them to know how it felt to be ignored, neglected, forgotten.

“I have terrible news.” Your doctor walked in and she looked as if she had aged ten more years. Her grip on her manila folders were tight and her eyes blinked with concern. 

There was a slight drop in your stomach, like your heart detached and fell into an empty pit. Your palms were slicked with sweat as you tried your best to remain calm. “There is a possibility that you may have cancer.” 

“C-Cancer?” It shocked you more hearing you say it. “I have cancer?”

“It’s not for certain, but your blood tests showed quite alarming results. We’ll run some CT scans to see for sure.” Your doctor jotted down a few notes and had you quickly follow her into another corridor in the clinic. 

“Today?” The news wasn’t processing in your head. It didn’t quite make sense.

“Right now. Unless you’ll like to schedule another appointment.” She looked as if something was in grave danger. Your family was plagued with cancer, but many of them survived. You hoped you were one of them, that or it was a simple mix up in the machine. You genuinely didn’t believe the strain could’ve been passed down, at least, not an intense strain.

“Alright.” You laid down on the slick platform as your doctor hooked up you quickly, but meticulously. 

“Take a deep breath. It will only take a second.” A small smile appeared on her face before it reverted back to concern. Your gut feeling was telling you that it wasn’t going to be good news.

When you got home, the empty feeling grew bigger than before. The tears did not stop from streaming down your face on your way home. Your bag landed somewhere in the corner of the living room as you ran into Jennie’s neat bed.

It still smelled like them. Sobbing into their sheets, you missed having them around. You wished they were here to comfort you. You needed them, more than they ever needed you. Tossing and turning, everything felt restless... fake almost.

It must have been hours of you crying and staring up at the ceiling. Every blink felt sore. Your eyelids felt heavy, but you couldn’t sleep. You were afraid of the darkness. of the loneliness. of death. 

You contemplated every single moment in your life as the sun set, and Jennie’s room turned into a heavy, navy blue. You haven’t touched your phone since you came home and the silent device lit up like a lighthouse.

You had 5 missed calls from Jimin and 3 from Jennie. The notification bar was filled with several texts from your message app and from Snapchat from both of them. “Hel-”

“(Y/N)! Are you okay?” Jimin sounded incredibly panicked over the phone. 

“She picked up? Thank god, hand me the phone.” Jennie’s voice can be heard in the background, equally concern. “(Y/N), why weren’t you answering the phone?”

“I-I-” you couldn’t find your voice. All the hours of crying made your throat dry and hoarse. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god, (Y/N).. is someone else there? Are you cheating on us?” The hurt in Jennie’s voice made your heart pang. She had trust issues due to past relationships. She has never been a relationship where her significant other hasn’t cheated on her, which is why you were not surprised that she could be wondering that.

“No--- Jen -- I’m not. There’s no one here.” It sounded worse saying it aloud, into the darkness. “I’m sorry for not picking up, my phone was on silent and I was taking a nap.” You lied. “What’s wrong? Why did you guys call me so much?”

You were on speaker, your voice echoing a little in the back. “We felt like something was wrong and wanted to check up on you. Are you still upset?”

You hesitated before you answered, “no. I’m not upset. You guys were trying to put a band-aid before the wound gashed open, I get it. But next time, don’t shower me with a date, just straight up tell me so we can have multiple dates instead.” Hearing their sweet voices made you realize that you missed them more than you could imagine. You wanted them back. 

“Happy birthday, baby.” Jimin smiled into the phone. 

“Wish we were there.” Jennie spoke right after. 

“Thanks.” You tried to wipe the quiet tears that stained Jennie’s pillow. “I love you.” Your voice cracked halfway through and you hung up before they could respond. Everything hurt as timed ticked by.

Jennie and Jimin were always together and you were always alone. But for once in your life, you wanted to be selfish and greedy. You wanted them to stay and be with you. You wanted them to drop their internship and love you. 

Curling up into your girlfriend’s blankets, you replayed the moment your doctor’s face contoured into a frown and the next words determined the rest of your life, “I’m sorry, but... there is a tumor growing in your pancreas..”

The next couple of lines were a messy blur. You asked her, “will I be okay?”

She let out a heavy sigh, “pancreatic cancer has a very low survival rate. I’d give it three and a half months for untreated cancer. Eight for treated cancer.” 

“So I should start writing my will now, huh?” You joked, but that’s when everything in your life spiraled. That was when the tears slipped quickly out from your eyes. That was when the fear ran down across your bones. I’m going to fucking die. 

You kept your cancer a secret from Jimin and Jennie. It was only best to tell them when they were ready for it. They were so busy with their own lives that they didn’t need the mess of your’s, but you couldn’t help the burning feeling of wishing them to come back. 

Emotional support was what your doctor recommended, but your support system was all the way in Vegas. You didn’t have much friends because college was mainly an individual venture. People usually went to class and left, no room for socialization. 

Your friends were Jennie’s or Jimin’s friends. You had acquaintances from art class, but you never really enjoyed spending time with them. You reserved your time for your boyfriend and girlfriend, since you all never really had much to spend.

The more you thought about your life, the more you regretted not doing a lot of things. You regretted not going to prom, not going for your scholarship in a prestigious college, not going to your mother’s wedding with her new boyfriend. There was a tremendous amount of resentment in your life and you were miserable.

But you remembered the better times --- when Jennie and Jimin pushed every horrible moment away. They were your foundation and lifted you when you were going to give up. They motivated you to sign up for art class. They got you to send gifts to your mom to congratulate her for her wedding. They supported your decision to decline a chance to study abroad.

You genuinely loved them. They were going to be the hardest to let go. The ones that you’d fight to wait for. The ones you love the most. Your last sight, you wanted it to be them. Thinking about dying made your chest feel suffocated, like the thought grew hands and pushed down so hard that your ribs cracked.

Reaching over for your phone, you dialed Hoseok’s number. Hoseok was Jimin’s friend from dance class. He was the closest to Jimin next to you and Jennie. He was an absolute sunshine and had a smile that lit up every room. He was easy to speak to, which is why you called him out of everyone else you knew.

“(Y/N)? Hey, what’s up?” You could tell he was confused to why you were calling him. You two never really spoke much, not unless if Jimin was there. 

“Hey Hoseok. Is now not a good time?” You sniffed.

“No, I’m just at the studio. Is everything okay?” 

You sighed into the receiver, “Jimin and Jennie are away at Vegas right now, so I’m alone. I’m going through somethings right now and I just really need someone here with me.” 

“Have you tried calling Jennie or Jimin?” 

“I can’t tell them what’s going on.” You answered quickly and Hoseok paused. A foolish feeling filled your system and you were ready to hang up. It was stupid to bother Hoseok because you couldn’t speak to your own lovers about your problems. You had to go to their friends, who you probably made super uncomfortable. “Sorry, Hoseok. This was so random and weird. Forget everything I said.”

“Wait, (Y/N). I’m here for you. I’ll be there in a few.” He said before hanging up.  

Getting up, you figured it was best that the first time you see Hoseok in two months wasn’t you with tear stained cheeks. When it got dark in Jennie’s apartment, it got extremely dark. You couldn’t differentiate what were rooms and what were walls. However, you didn’t turn on the lights because you were afraid of seeing your pathetic expression in the mirror. 

You changed into more comfortable clothing --- Jimin’s shirt and your shorts. Your wet hair clung to your face and you tried your best to scoop up every strand into a messy bun. The cold water from the running facet cooled you down and you wiped the rest on a random soft cloth.

A small knock startled you and Hoseok had the biggest, warmest smile when you opened the door. He held bags of takeout boxes in his hands and you blinked curiously at him. “Hey (Y/N). I brought some food, I figured you haven’t eaten yet.” 

Once he said that, the same burning feeling in your chest returned and tears cascaded down your freshly-clean cheeks. An evident frown appeared on his face and he drew you in for a hug. “What’s happening? Why are you so upset?”

“It’s my birthday.” That wasn’t the real reason why you were crying. It wasn’t because you were a year older. It was because you weren’t going to live past it. 

“I’m sure they didn’t mean to leave you on your birthday....” Hoseok’s warm hand rubbed your shaking body. “I know Jimin would’ve done anything to see his girlfriend smile on her birthday, not crying.”

“It’s not just that, Hoseok.” You pulled away, your puffy eyes saw how his face soften. “I’m dying.” 

“You’re-- (Y/N)-- you’re what?” You welcomed him into the apartment and his shaky hands opened the takeout boxes for you two to eat. You sat across from him on the large dining table, violently crying.

“I have cancer, Hoseok.” The words sounded like breaking glass, sharp and sudden. Fragile and piercing.

A gasp filled the room and his mouth gaped open. His eyebrows knitted at the center, “are you sure?”

You nodded, “I went to the doctor’s three times to figure out what the fuck was wrong with me. I have a tumor growing in my pancreas. Before you know it, my eyes are going to turn yellow.”

“Maybe you’ll make it. I know there is a quite big survival rate for cancer..” Hoseok wasn’t sure what he was saying. He merely wanted to cheer you up, look on the better side of things.

You shook your head and swallowed the lump on your throat, “three months for untreated pancreatic cancer. Eight for treated. Pancreatic cancer has one of the lowest survival rates. 20% live past a year. That’s not going to be me.”

“What if that is?!” Hoseok gripped onto your hands tightly, tears spilling from his eyes. You were confused as to why he was crying too.

“I’m not that lucky, Hobi.” Reaching over, you wiped his sadness with your palm. “Why are you crying for me? We barely know each other.”

“I’m crying because I know how much Jimin loves you. You make his world go round, you and Jen. You two mean the stars and the moon to him. It breaks my heart knowing that he’s going to lose you. It’ll break him.” 

“Silly boy.” You whispered. “They’ll get over it once I’m gone.” His cheek rested in your hand.

“Then why are you keeping this a secret?” Your arm dropped.

“Because, they get to keep secrets from me, so why can’t I have my own secret?” You shrugged.

“What’s the real reason?” It didn’t help how Hoseok seemed to know you like the back of his hand.

“I’m trying to stall the painful moments and prolong the ignorant bliss.” 

Hoseok laid in your bed with you, talking about almost everything. While he was Jimin’s best friend, he soon became yours. You asked him to stay the night and he happily obliged. 

He showered and warmth of his body relaxed your own. Having another human presence really comforted you. “You have to promise me you won’t spill it to Jimin. You owe that little to me.”

“It wouldn’t be my place to tell. How long do you plan on keeping it from them?” The wind shook the branches outside, casting witch-like shadows on your bedroom floor.

“If I had the choice, forever, but that’s not fair to them.” You rolled over and grabbed your phone. Your home screen was a cute candid photo of the three of you. Jennie’s beautiful smile rested on her small face. Jimin’s eyes disappeared, his head falling back where his neck was exposed. You staring at them with intense, loving eyes. It was the perfect moment captured at the perfect time. 

It was the day of your one year anniversary. It two weeks after you and Jimin moved into Jennie’s apartment officially. She made it a big deal to cook breakfast for you two one day. However, you woke up earlier than those two and whipped up a batch of fresh, steaming pancakes before they stumbled out with tired eyes. 

It was mainly improvising that day. You all three dressed up rather nicely and hopped into Jimin’s car, wasted a half of tank of gas driving absolutely nowhere. It was a spontaneous rendezvous with the ones you loved. 

You ate ice cream at a popular ice cream joint and Jennie had it all over her face. You shared messy, sweet kisses as the sun set at the foreign place you guys ended up at. And you swear to god that you’ve never found a love that splendid. 

Jimin had asked a passing stranger to help take a photo of you three in front of a marvelous fountain, but Jimin almost fell in and both you and Jennie had to hold on before the young boy hit the water. The stranger handed back the phone, unaware that that wasn’t the photo you were intending to take, but Jimin thanked her anyways. He swiped to see what horrid picture she could’ve taken, but to your surprise, it was the perfect capture. 

That was before the two were preoccupied by their internship. It was before the cancer, the whispers behind closed doors, the sex without the other. 

“I’ll tell them when they get back.” You answered Hoseok’s question after much silence.

Hoseok shifted around in the bed and his soft voice filled the vacant air, “also, happy birthday, (Y/N).” 

“thank you, Hoseok...” You sighed, “... for just everything.”