#It was instinctual and he regretted it the moment he said it

[prythianpages]

Tonight, the Light of Love is in Your Eyes

Azriel x Rhysand's Sister (reader) | You find yourself in the middle of a political affair, where you seek refuge in a dance with Azriel. And in the spur of the moment, Azriel tells you he loves you for the first time.

warnings: secret love, implied smut (brief mention), you and az being impulsive and risking it all

word count: 1,900

a/n: I used the dialogue of this scene from The Witcher as a prompt for this fic.

“Hybern is still close to Spring. Though they’ve lost the war, it seems their alliance still stands. Bradwell has shown interest in her, it’d be best if she takes his favor tonight. Or even Tamlin’s, they are closer in age.”

Your gaze is fixed forward, but your mind drifts, creeping into the quiet mental conversation between your father and brother. They speak of you, as if your own desires are inconsequential, and it stings more than you let show.

“Why should she? When the High Lord of Autumn, who fought alongside our armies, has six sons and one on the way…”

Breathe in, breathe out. You force the command on yourself, struggling to maintain the composure you’ve perfected over years of courtly life. The mask you wear feels more fragile tonight, your heart threatening to crack the facade. 

You allow your eyes to wander and regret it when you meet the gaze of Bradwell–the eldest son of Spring. He is watching you, green eyes gleaming with a predatory sharpness, his smirk oozing arrogance. As if you’re a prize to be won–a prize already won. The sight of it turns your stomach. 

It’s instinctual almost–the way your eyes gravitate toward Azriel as they always do at the slightest discomfort. He’s been your anchor, your safety blanket for years. He stands just a few steps below you, tall and stoic. 

His hands are clenched into fists, shadows weaving and writhing along his limbs in a frenzy, whispering secrets to him that you ache to hear. His head is turned toward Bradwell and there’s no doubt his gaze is hardened into an icy composure when the eldest of Spring suddenly peels his gaze off of you.  

As you pull your gaze away from the Night Court’s Spymaster, you catch your mother’s eye. She sits beside your father on a much simpler throne. She sends you a sympathetic smile and you cast your gaze down, mask faltering as a blush creeps up your neck.

By the Cauldron, how you wish you could be anywhere but here. You’d much rather be alongside Cassian and Mor, who are most likely indulging in the fine wine and cheeses. The only redeeming part of these insufferable court parties.

“Is it not best to keep our most at-risk enemies close? Spring–”

Your body tenses, each muscle coiling as you listen to the words between your brother and father, their minds still unaware of your presence within them. It’s laughable, almost. Rhysand taught you well. You were a later bloomer when it came to the manifestation of your powers but the daemati power runs strong in you. 

Movement catches your eye. It’s Bradwell. He begins to make his way toward you, one hand already reaching for the sage-green handkerchief embroidered with a golden beast. A token you know he plans to offer. The sight of it makes something in you snap. You can’t take it anymore.

You whip your head around, your heart pounding, and your gaze finds Azriel once more—the only one you want. The only one you’ve ever wanted.

“Azriel, will you dance with me?”

The words escape your lips before you even realize you’ve said them. There’s a brief moment where the world seems to still as Azriel turns to meet your gaze. His eyes widen slightly, shadows pausing briefly in midair–the only sign of emotion he shows. 

But you feel a flutter in your chest.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s danced with you. The two of you have danced plenty of times before. However, it’d be the first time you’d give him your first dance. A notion that seems silly but held to a high esteem in the Court of Nightmares.

You feel your father’s and Rhysand’s gaze also on you–the latter’s eyes narrowing at you. He’s already sensed the lingering presence you left in his mind, and you can feel his talons scratching at the edges of your mental walls. But you hold steady, just as he taught you and push him away.

Azriel keeps his eyes on you yet his shadows peer over his shoulders, the dark tendrils darting back and forth between your brother and father. Cautious and a bit defensive.

It’s your mother who breaks the silence. She had kept her gaze on the dance floor in front of her, that same knowing smile playing on her lips. “It is impolite to keep a lady waiting.”

Azriel nods his head. “Of course.”

He shifts forward–one foot resting on the first step while the other remains on the ground floor. He extends his scarred hand to you, his shadows barely able to contain their excitement, betraying the cool mask he dons.

You smile—truly smile—as you place your hand in his, and together, you walk toward the dance floor. Your heart swells with defiance as you purposefully avert your eyes when passing Bradwell, chin held high. Rhysand’s mental claws scratch harder, desperate to break through your defenses. You continue to shut him out, strengthening the walls of your mind. 

The Cauldron simmers in your favor. As you reach the dance floor, the music shifts to a slower, more romantic melody. Azriel’s hand wraps around yours, his fingers enclosing around your palm while his other hand rests gently at the small of your back. The tension in your body melts under his touch and you find yourself leaning in closer to him, your body always yearning to be with his.

Shadows slither softly around you, hiding within the seams of your black dress like a protective shield. Azriel’s eyebrows furrow and you recognize the brief distant look in his eyes. “Rhys is not happy,” he murmurs. “Your first dance was supposed to be with the eldest son of Spring.”

His jaw clenches and you see the way his shadows curl tighter around him as if to suffocate the jealousy he dares not voice.

“Let him sulk. I get to decide who to dance with, who to be with.”

Azriel was the master of composure. He’s always calm, steady, controlled. But tonight, something in his gaze feels different. There’s something vulnerable there, something pained. He looks away for a moment, as if trying to keep his emotions from manifesting further. 

“I can’t offer you what he can..."

His hand twitches in yours, like he’s about to pull away, but you hold him tighter. “Good,” you respond without hesitation. “I don’t want anything that arrogant ass has to offer.”

Azriel’s eyes snap back to yours, searching, conflicted. He hesitates, as if still grappling with the part of himself that believes he doesn’t deserve this. That you deserve more, much better than him. Someone who can give you the world, not someone who only knows to live in the shadows.

You intertwine your fingers with his, lips curling into a small grin. “Your ass is the only one I want,” you add, your power reaching out to him and gently slipping past his defenses to show him the marvelous view you had of his backside earlier.

And as your thoughts drift to the last night you shared together, where you got to see all of him, Azriel lets out an exhale, his lips mirroring the upwards curl to yours. Taking advantage of the grip you have on his mind, you show him more memories from that night. The way his scarred hands had caressed every inch of your body, his lips following the path his hands made…

 “I can’t give you much,” Azriel’s voice had dropped to a whisper, barely a rasp as he leaned his forehead against yours. His nose brushed with yours, lips hovering right over your own.  “But I can give you everything I have.”

You smiled softly at him, your fingers brushing the side of his face, tracing every line and contour of the male who held your heart. So beautiful, so perfect. 

“That’s all I’ll ever need,” you replied and then closed the small gap between you to kiss him.

The pained look in his hazel eyes melts into something warmer, something sweeter, as he takes in the memories of that night through your eyes. He had never doubted your love, but the weight of his own insecurities—his belief that he was beneath you—constantly gnawed at him.

Every time he touched you in secret, every night you spent hidden away together, he feared that someday you might wake up and realize he wasn’t enough.

But here, dancing with you, the way your eyes held him, he felt that overwhelming doubt ease. To see and feel the depth of your sincerity, as if your very soul called out to his…

“I love you.”

Your heart stilled at the words, your step faltering. In a smooth maneuver, Azriel spins you around, catching you effortlessly before you could stumble. His hands steady you as you face him once more.

 “That’s the first time you’ve said that,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper, though you know Azriel’s shadows are already ensuring no one else can hear your words.

“It can’t be,” Azriel murmurs in disbelief, brows furrowing slightly. 

“You used to think it,” you quietly admit, your gaze dropping for a moment before returning to his. It wasn’t that you had ever meant to pry, but when it was just the two of you, his mind was often at ease, unguarded. Sometimes, his thoughts would be too loud for you to ignore. “But tonight, you finally said it.”

The shadows hidden within the lacey seams of your dress stir and you watch as one of the shadows lingering over Azriel’s shoulders slithers up and curls around his ear. His grip on you tightens and your ears perk up. 

The song is coming to an end and though couples continue to dance and whirl around you, your nose picks up on an approaching scent. Fresh wildflowers and oak—rich and lovely, exuding the essence of Spring. Yet it fills you with dread. You don’t want this moment to end. You’re tired of pretending, of living this life of secrecy.

“Azriel,” you say, one hand reaching out toward his face to turn his attention back to you. A bold move but tonight, you’re ready to be even bolder. “Kiss me.”

His shadows stir, swirling anxiously around him, their whispers warning that too many eyes are upon you both. You can feel his hesitation, the unspoken question in his gaze as he searches your face.

“In front of everyone,” you confirm. Show them I’m yours, you speak into his mind, and only yours.

Azriel pauses, his chest tightening at the implication of your words. He can feel Rhysand’s presence–furious and demanding– trying to slip into his mind. No doubt trying to steer him away from this impulsive display and away from you. 

He feels the weight of the room pressing down on him—the sons of Spring and Autumn watching his every breath.

But all of that falls away when he meets your eyes again. 

There is only you in this moment.

The one who had always been able to see through his walls, the one who made him feel like the most precious thing in the room, the only one he cared about.

“Kiss me,” you whisper again.

And Azriel is not going to let you ask a third time.

Not when the light of love is shining so brightly in your eyes. His hand covers yours on his cheek, and then, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that silences the room.

Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

a/n: It's been awhile since I wrote for Az. Miss this shadow daddy lol. Part 2 is already up 🫶🏽 you can find it here.

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

fic tag: @noisyinfluencerstrawberry

[gffa]

Star Wars: From a Certain Point of View: Return of the Jedi | "Brotherhood" I NEED YOU TO UNDERSTAND THAT I STRAIGHT UP CRIED REAL TEARS AT THIS MOMENT. IT WAS EXACTLY WHAT I HAVE ALWAYS WANTED TO READ AND IT HIT ME RIGHT IN MY EMOTIONS. I was so wary going into this story, because the concepts of Force Ghosts are deeply important to me on a narrative level, that the Force and Lucas' philosphy in the movies and for the worldbuilding is that the message is: You need to let go when it's time. You can't hold on beyond anything or anyone's time, it will only cause you and others suffering. So, when Anakin's fiery determination seemed to be what kept him around as a Force ghost, I sighed a bit and kept shouldering on. I did not expect to be hit by the one-two-three-four punch of Obi-Wan's gentle guidance to get Anakin to the other side of the Force, Anakin's regret for what he'd done and the heart-wrenching way he instinctively turns to Obi-Wan and listens to him, Anakin looking on over his children with pride and faith in what they would do next, and then the ultimate message: "Finally, Anakin Skywalker let go." I AM EMOTIONAL. MY BOY FINALLY GOT TO THE PLACE THAT GAVE HIM PEACE. It was a perfect build-up to where Anakin needed to be in this moment, that this story is centered around the depth of his connection to Obi-Wan, that it's instinctual for him to reach out and grab onto the hand Obi-Wan is holding out to him, to turn to Obi-Wan and listen, like a flower turns towards the sun, now that he's out of the worst of the haze of the dark side. To seeing his children, seeing Padme in them, seeing both of them in the twins, and finally, finally letting all that noise in his head go. Trusting that Luke and Leia and their friends would make their own way forward. "It just took one final nudge from Obi-Wan to get there. Finally, Anakin Skywalker let go." What a perfect summation of Anakin's character and his difficult journey, his relationship with Obi-Wan, and one of the most central themes George Lucas intended for Star Wars. Becoming a Force Ghost is about letting go--Qui-Gon said that in the original ROTS script, he said it in TCW, the OWK show basically had the same message, and now Anakin has gotten there, too. That it acknowledged his part in everything that happened and did it with tremendous compassion, because that's what Jedi are all about. Obi-Wan has let go as well, he doesn't hang onto the hurt or the suffering, especially not when he will gain so much by letting go and embracing compassion for Anakin. He gently guides Anakin to understanding that he wasn't solely responsible for everything, only for the choices he made. Those choices were terrible, he bears that mark, they aren't erased just because Anakin is sorry, but holding onto all that guilt and pain is just more suffering. Obi-Wan has let go and, through that, he can guide Anakin to let go as well, and regain his friend. This is everything the Jedi have always taught coming to fruition. So, I'm emotional for my baby boy, that he finally got there after a lifetime of struggling, that he's finally at peace, and I'm emotional as a Star Wars fan, that the themes of my favorite franchise were just knocked out of the park.

[sweetmisery]

everything we never said | choi jiung

summary: your lifelong friendship with Jiung is tested when you fall for him, leaving you torn between confessing your feelings or losing him forever

pairing: jiung x female!reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 8.9k

The night air brushed cool against your skin as you stepped out of the car, Jiung beside you. Your cheeks were warm, not just from the alcohol you’ve had, but from the sound of his soft laughter as he thanked your friend for the ride. The streetlights cast a soft glow, and the world felt slightly off, though maybe that was because of the drinks.

Jiung’s hand touched your arm gently, steadying you as you swayed just a little. “Alright, let’s get you home,” he said, his voice full of that familiar warmth that always made your chest tighten.

You laughed lightly, brushing your hair out of your face. “I’m fine, Jiung. Really.”

He raised a brow, unconvinced. “Sure you are,” he said with a small smirk. “Come on.” He gestured for you to lead the way, but stayed close, his steps matching yours as you made your way down the quiet sidewalk. His presence was comforting, just like always. Too comforting. You wished it wasn’t.

The night felt surreal. Or maybe it was the alcohol that made everything feel dreamlike. The sound of your heels clicking against the pavement, the faint buzz of distant traffic, and Jiung’s steadying hand brushing against your arm every time you lost your footing slightly. Your heart fluttered each time, even though you knew it shouldn’t.

You reached the steps to your apartment building, and as you climbed, your foot catched on the edge of a step. You stumbled forward with a gasp, but before you could hit the ground, Jiung’s arms were around you, holding you steady.

“Whoa, careful!” he said, laughing softly, his hands firm but gentle on your arms. “You’ve definitely had a few too many.”

You giggled along with him, your hands gripping his forearms to steady yourself. “Guess so,” you murmured, your voice quieter now. You realized how close he was - how his dark eyes catched the faint light, how his smile softened as he looked at you. The warmth of his touch lingered on your skin, and suddenly, the night felt even hazier.

Your laughter faded as you both fell silent, staring at each other. His face was inches from yours, and your heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of your chest. You couldn´t think straight, not with him looking at you like that, not with the way he was holding you like you were something precious.

And before you could have stopped yourself, you leaned in, your face tilting toward his. It was instinctual, your mind spinning with thoughts of what if? What if he feels the same? What if this could be something more?

But just as your lips were about to meet his, Jiung turned his face away. Your heart dropped, the moment shattering like fragile glass.

“Y/n…” he said softly, his voice heavy with something you couldn´t quite place. Regret? Guilt? “I’m so sorry.”

Your breath catched in your throat, and you pulled back quickly, your hands falling away from him. “Oh my god,” you blurted out, your voice shaking. “Jiung, no. I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have-”

“Y/n, stop,” he interrupted gently, his hands still on your arms. “It’s not like that. I… I really like you, but-”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head rapidly. “It’s fine. I… I drank too much, and I wasn’t thinking straight. It’s my fault. Just… forget it, okay?”

His brow furrowed, and he looked at you with something like hurt in his eyes. “It’s not intrusive or your fault, y/n,” he said softly, his tone so careful it made your chest ache. “Are you okay?”

You forced a laugh, waving your hand dismissively as if that could have erased what just happened. “I’m fine, Jiung. Really. I’m just… embarrassed. Let’s just go inside, okay?”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his gaze searching yours like he wanted to say something more. But then he nodded, his hands falling away from your arms. “Okay,” he said quietly. “As long as we’re good?”

“We’re good,” you said quickly, plastering on a smile you hoped looks convincing. You stepped past him, leading the way to your apartment door, but your heart felt heavy, each step harder than the last.

When you finally reached your door, you thanked him softly and told him goodnight. He hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to say something else, but in the end, he just nodded and turned to leave.

As you closed the door behind you, the weight in your chest grew heavier. You leaned against the door, your fingers brushing your lips, remembering the moment that almost was. He said he liked you. But… why did he stop? Why did he apologize?

You told yourself to forget it, to move on. But as you crawled into bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, you couldn´t stop the tears that slipped down your cheeks. You couldn´t stop wondering if things would ever be the same again.

The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, harsh against your pounding head. You groaned, burying your face in the pillow in a pointless attempt to block it out. But the light wasn’t the only thing you couldn’t ignore. As soon as you opened your eyes, the memory hit you like a wave.

Jiung.

The way his arms had steadied you. The way you’d leaned in. The way he’d turned away. The sound of his soft, apologetic voice as he said, “I’m so sorry.”

Your chest tightened. Why had he stopped you? Was it because he didn’t want to take advantage of you while you were drunk? That seemed like something Jiung would do - always kind, always looking out for you. Or… was it something else? The thought made your stomach twist. What if he didn’t feel the same way you did? What if he only saw you as his best friend, nothing more?

Your head throbbed, not just from the hangover, but from the endless spiral of thoughts. Pulling the covers over your head, you let out a groan of frustration. Why did I do that? You replayed the moment in your mind, cringing at yourself. What if you’d ruined everything? What if he didn’t even want to be your friend anymore?

A vibration on your bedside table pulled you from your thoughts. You reached for your phone, half-dreading what you might see. When you unlocked it, your breath caught.

A new message from Jiung.

“Morning. How are you feeling today?”

Your heart fluttered despite yourself, but embarrassment quickly followed. How could he be so casual after what happened? Still, you couldn’t help but feel relieved. At least he was reaching out. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

You hesitated for a moment before typing back, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Finally, you sent: “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Just a little hungover.”

His reply came quickly. “That’s good. But… do you want to talk about last night?”

Your stomach dropped. Of course he wanted to talk about it. He probably felt awkward, too, and wanted to clear the air. But the last thing you wanted was to relive the humiliation of that moment. The words you typed came out faster than you could fully think them through.

“Jiung, I’m so sorry about what happened. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and it was stupid. I hope you don’t take it too seriously… I was drunk. Can we just forget it happened?”

You stared at the screen, biting your lip as you waited for his response. It felt like forever before your phone buzzed again.

“Y/n, you don’t have to worry. It’s already forgotten.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Relief washed over you, but it was tinged with something else. Sadness? Disappointment? You couldn’t tell. Trying to push the feelings aside, you typed one more question.

“Are we still best friends?”

Another buzz, his response almost immediate. “Of course! I think I’m stuck with you forever.”

The words made you smile despite yourself. You sent back a laughing emoji and a heart, trying to focus on the fact that he still cared about you, that he wasn’t pulling away. But as you set your phone down on the bed, the smile faded from your face.

You were relieved that things weren’t awkward between you and Jiung. That he still saw you as his best friend. But that was just it, wasn’t it? Best friend. That’s all you’d ever be to him.

The thought lodged itself in your chest like a stone. How could you go on pretending to be his best friend, pretending you didn’t feel something deeper when every moment spent with him only made you want more? How could you laugh and joke with him like nothing had happened when part of you wanted to cry every time you thought about how close you’d been, only for him to pull away?

You ran a hand through your hair, your fingers tangling in the strands. Maybe this was just the way it had to be. Maybe you could bury your feelings, push them down so far that they didn’t matter anymore. Jiung was still here. You hadn’t lost him. That had to be enough.

Didn’t it?

The hum of conversation and faint strains of pop music greeted you as you stepped into the karaoke bar. Keeho was the first to spot you, his face lighting up as he waved enthusiastically. “Y/n! You’re finally here!” he called, weaving through the small crowd to greet you with a warm hug. His cheerful energy was infectious, and for a moment, it helped ease the nervous weight in your chest.

You hugged him back and smiled. “Hey, Keeho. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Of course! Go grab a drink or some snacks,” he said, gesturing toward the small table in the corner, stacked with bottles, bowls of chips, and plates of finger food. “We’re just getting started, so don’t worry, you haven’t missed anything.”

You nodded, unzipping your jacket and shrugging it off. As you folded it over your arm, your eyes instinctively scanned the room, looking for him. And there he was.

Jiung.

He was sitting on one of the couches near the karaoke machine, and your heart jumped at the sight of him. But your relief at seeing him faded the moment you noticed the girl sitting beside him. She was laughing, her head tilted slightly toward him, her hair falling effortlessly over one shoulder. Jiung was smiling back at her, that same warm, easy smile he used to give you when you shared some inside joke or traded silly remarks.

And then there was the way she touched his arm every now and then, light, casual, but still enough to make something twist painfully in your stomach.

You froze, your hands gripping your jacket a little too tightly. Jiung glanced up at that moment, his eyes meeting yours across the room. His face lit up, and he waved at you, that same familiar grin spreading across his face.

You waved back automatically, your lips curving into a polite smile. But inside, you were a mess. Why did seeing him with her make your chest feel so tight? Why did your mind keep replaying the way she laughed at something he said, like she belonged there beside him?

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you made your way to the table, pouring yourself a drink to keep your hands busy. You weren’t going to sit near Jiung and… her. No way. Instead, you slid into a spot on the other side of the room, joining Keeho and some of his friends. They were lively and talkative, but you could barely focus on the conversation, your mind drifting back to Jiung and the girl every few seconds. The way they seemed so at ease with each other. The way she leaned in just a little too closely.

You hated it. You hated how much it bothered you.

Keeho’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. “You’ve been awfully quiet today.”

You blinked, startled, and turned to him. “Me?” you asked, trying to play it off with a small laugh.

“Yeah, you,” Keeho said, his head tilting as he studied you. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Keeho didn’t look convinced. He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice so the others wouldn’t hear. “Is it… because of Jiung?”

You felt your heart drop, panic bubbling up in your chest. “What?” you blurted out, a little too quickly. “Why would you think that?”

Keeho shrugged, his expression calm but curious. “I mean… this is the first time Jiung’s really been around another girl, at least when you’re here. I thought maybe it’d feel weird for you or something.”

Your stomach twisted, but you forced yourself to laugh, shaking your head. “No, not at all. Jiung can do whatever he wants. I’m happy for him.”

Keeho raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he gave you a small smile and clinked his glass against yours. “Alright, if you say so. But, you know, if you ever need to talk…”

“Thanks, Keeho,” you said softly, grateful for his concern but eager to steer the conversation away from yourself.

You took a sip of your drink, Keeho’s words lingering in your mind. This is the first time Jiung’s been around another girl. Was that why it hurt so much? Was it because you weren’t used to seeing him like this, his attention on someone else instead of you?

Deep down, you knew the answer. It wasn’t just that Jiung was sitting with someone else. It was the way he looked at her, the way he laughed with her, the way she seemed so at ease touching his arm. All of it reminded you that you weren’t special to Jiung in the way you wanted to be. That the feelings you had for him, the ones you’d been trying so hard to bury, would never be returned.

You glanced across the room, watching as Jiung laughed at something the girl said, his eyes crinkling in that way that made your heart ache.

Turning back to Keeho and the others, you tried to focus on the conversation, tried to laugh and smile like everything was fine. But deep down, a quiet pain settled in your chest, one you didn’t know how to ignore.

The lights of the karaoke bar felt too bright, the music too loud, and the air too thick to breathe. You’d tried your best to stay, to focus on Keeho and the others, to act like Jiung’s presence with her wasn’t gnawing at you. But it was no use. Every laugh he shared with her, every glance in her direction, felt like a needle piercing your chest.

You leaned over to Keeho, giving him a small smile you didn’t quite feel. “I think I’m going to head home,” you said, your voice soft but steady.

Keeho’s face immediately fell. “Already? You just got here.”

“I know,” you said, guilt creeping into your tone. “I’m just… tired. But thanks for the invite, it’s been a nice evening.”

He studied you for a moment, as if trying to figure out if you were telling the whole truth. Then he sighed and gave you a warm smile. “Alright. Take care, y/n. Text me when you get home, okay?”

You nodded, thanking him again as you grabbed your jacket and slipped out of the room. The cool air of the hallway was a relief after the stifling atmosphere inside, but the knot in your chest remained. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself and started walking toward the exit, your footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridor.

“Y/n!”

The sound of his voice made you freeze in place. For a moment, you considered pretending you hadn’t heard him, but you knew that wasn’t an option. Slowly, you turned around, your heart pounding as Jiung jogged toward you, his expression a mix of concern and confusion.

“You’re leaving already?” he asked, stopping a few feet in front of you.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. I’m just tired. Long day, you know?”

“Ah…” Jiung hesitated, scratching the back of his head in that way he always did when he was unsure of what to say. “That’s too bad. I thought we’d get a chance to hang out tonight.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you kept your face neutral. “You’ve already got some nice company,” you said lightly, nodding toward the direction of the karaoke room. “You should stay and enjoy the evening.”

Jiung blinked at you, his expression shifting into something unreadable. “Oh,” he said awkwardly, his hand still at the back of his neck. “She’s just Keeho’s friend. I was just… being friendly.”

You shrugged, trying to seem indifferent, though your chest ached with every word. “Well, friendly suits you. Anyway, I should get going.”

He frowned slightly, like he wanted to say something more, but then he nodded. “Alright. I’ll call you tomorrow, though, okay? We haven’t really seen each other this week.”

His words tugged at your heart in the worst way, filling you with a bittersweet mix of relief and sadness. You smiled softly, nodding. “Sure. Good night, Jiung.”

“Good night,” he replied, his voice gentle.

You turned and walked away, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. You didn’t look back, even though you wanted to. You told yourself it was better this way, better to leave than to sit in that room watching him laugh with someone else. Better to protect yourself from the constant ache of being near him when you couldn’t have him.

As you stepped out into the chilly night air, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. The cold wind bit at your cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the dull ache in your chest. You pulled your jacket tighter around you and started walking toward the bus stop.

Inside, Jiung stood where you’d left him, staring at the empty hallway. He felt a strange weight settle over him, something he couldn’t quite put into words. Why had you left so early? Was it really because you were tired, or was it… something else?

He frowned, replaying your words in his mind. “You’ve already got some nice company.” The way you’d said it, so casual yet distant, didn’t sit right with him. He knew you well enough to sense when something was off, and tonight, something definitely was.

Scratching the back of his head again, Jiung let out a small sigh. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d left because of him.

The restaurant was lively, filled with the clatter of dishes and the hum of chatter from other tables. You sat quietly, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, as Keeho and the boys joked and laughed about something you hadn’t really been listening to. Your thoughts were elsewhere - on Jiung, who hadn’t arrived yet. You hadn’t seen him in a few days, and part of you was nervous to face him after the karaoke night.

Still, when the door to the restaurant opened and you saw him walk in, you couldn’t stop the small pang of excitement that shot through your chest. Jiung scanned the room for a moment before spotting your table. His face lit up as he walked over, brushing a hand through his slightly tousled hair.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jiung said, slipping off his coat and draping it over the back of his chair. “Traffic was insane.”

You managed a small smile, keeping your gaze down as he pulled out the chair next to yours and sat down. But before he could say anything else, Intak leaned forward with a teasing grin.

“Oh, come on!” Intak said, laughing. “Just tell us you were meeting up with Stella before this.”

The words hit you like a jolt of electricity, your stomach sinking. Jiung froze, his expression tightening, and the air around the table shifted. You kept your head down, hoping the others wouldn’t notice the way your hands clenched your shirt.

“Who’s Stella?” Jongseob asked curiously, looking back and forth between Jiung and Intak.

Intak laughed again, waving his hand. “She’s the girl from the karaoke bar. Keeho’s friend. You know, the one Jiung was all buddy-buddy with.”

At that, the rest of the boys started laughing and throwing out their own teasing remarks, except for Keeho, Jiung, and you. Jiung’s face grew awkward, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks. “That’s not true,” he said flatly, his voice quiet but firm.

“Did you at least ask for her number?” Intak pressed, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. His tone was playful, but you couldn’t ignore the knot tightening in your chest.

Jiung furrowed his brows, his jaw clenching slightly. “No,” he said shortly, the irritation in his voice clear now.

You stared down at your lap, barely able to breathe. The boys were laughing again, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. The image of Jiung and Stella from that night at the karaoke bar flashed in your mind, making your chest ache all over again. You tugged harder on the hem of your shirt, wishing you could disappear.

Jiung’s gaze flickered toward you, and his expression softened. “We just had a nice talk,” he said, his voice quieter now, as if the words were meant for you more than anyone else. “Nothing more.”

“Pshh,” Intak said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “That’s such a waste. She’s so pretty.”

You winced at his words, your stomach twisting painfully. The urge to get up and run out of the restaurant grew stronger, but your legs felt like they were cemented to the floor.

“Alright, how about we start focusing on ordering our food?” Keeho interjected suddenly, his voice sharp and purposeful. His eyes darted to you for a brief moment, his expression knowing. It was clear that he’d noticed how uncomfortable you were, and he was trying to diffuse the situation.

“Fine,” Intak sighed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. But then he grinned mischievously. “If Jiung’s not interested, you could at least give me her number, Keeho. Help a guy out.”

“Shut up, Intak,” Keeho snapped, his tone more serious than usual.

The table fell into an awkward silence, broken only by the distant clatter of plates from the other diners. You swallowed hard, staring down at the menu in front of you even though the words blurred together in your vision. The discomfort was almost unbearable. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything that might release the tension building inside you. But instead, you just sat there, frozen and silent, hoping that no one would notice the tears threatening to well up in your eyes.

Jiung glanced at you again, his expression troubled. He could see the way your shoulders were hunched, the way you refused to meet anyone’s gaze. Something wasn’t right, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was because of him.

“I’ll be back in a second,” you said suddenly, your voice barely above a whisper. Pushing your chair back, you stood up quickly, avoiding everyone’s eyes as you made your way toward the restroom.

The moment you were out of sight, you leaned against the sink, gripping the edge tightly as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your chest felt heavy, your throat tight, and you let out a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself.

Why does this hurt so much? you thought bitterly, blinking back tears. Why do I care so much about who Jiung talks to?

Back at the table, Jiung watched you go, a pang of guilt settling in his chest. He replayed the conversation in his head, the way you’d stayed so silent, the way you wouldn’t even look at him. He knew Intak’s teasing had been harmless, but something about the way you’d reacted didn’t sit right with him.

“Hey,” Jiung said softly, leaning toward Keeho. “Is… y/n okay?”

Keeho glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” he said quietly before picking up his menu.

Jiung sat back in his chair, his jaw tightening. He didn’t know exactly what was wrong, but he had a sinking feeling that you’d left the table because of him.

You returned to the table, sliding back into your seat as casually as you could manage, though your hands were still slightly shaky. The rest of the boys had moved on, engrossed in a random debate about music genres, laughing loudly over their drinks. You plastered on a faint smile, picking up the glass of water in front of you and taking a small sip, hoping no one would notice how quiet you were.

But Jiung noticed.

As the conversations swirled around you, his gaze lingered on you for a moment before he leaned in, his voice soft so only you could hear. “Y/n… is everything okay?”

You stiffened slightly, keeping your eyes fixed on the glass in your hands. “Yeah,” you said quickly, nodding. “I just needed to use the bathroom.”

Jiung’s lips pressed into a thin line, clearly unconvinced. “Y/n, if there’s anything bothering-”

“What did everyone decide to eat?” you interrupted, forcing your tone to sound light and cheerful. You glanced up at him briefly, giving him a small, polite smile, before looking at Keeho and the others. “Did you guys already order?”

Jiung hesitated, his words hanging in the air for a second longer before he let out a quiet sigh and sat back in his chair. “Yeah,” he muttered. “We ordered a while ago. Keeho picked something for you.”

You nodded and gave Keeho a small smile of thanks, even though your heart felt heavy. Jiung didn’t press the issue again, and the conversation around the table resumed as if nothing had happened. But you could feel his eyes on you every so often, like he was trying to piece something together.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, though you barely spoke. Everyone chatted and laughed, but your mind was elsewhere, replaying Jiung’s words and Intak’s teasing from earlier. By the time the check came, you felt exhausted, not from the dinner itself, but from the effort of keeping your composure.

As the group gathered outside the restaurant to say their goodbyes, the air was cold and crisp, your breath visible in the faint glow of the streetlights. Everyone hugged or waved, their voices cheerful as they parted ways. Eventually, it was just you and Jiung left standing there, an awkward silence settling between you.

You glanced at him briefly before looking away, hugging your coat tightly around yourself. “I should head home now,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jiung nodded but hesitated, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Do you… maybe want to grab some ice cream and walk for a bit?” he asked, his voice careful, almost hopeful.

The suggestion made your heart ache, but you shook your head, forcing a small smile. “I’m really tired. Maybe another time.”

You turned on your heel, hoping to leave before the conversation could get any heavier. But you only made it a few steps before you heard Jiung call your name. You ignored it, your footsteps quickening, but then his voice came again, this time closer.

“Y/n.”

You felt his hand wrap gently around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. Slowly, you turned to face him, your breath catching in your throat at the serious expression on his face.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm.

Your eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by his bluntness. “What? No,” you said, shaking your head quickly. “Why would you think that?”

Jiung held your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours. “Because it feels like it,” he said, his tone soft but filled with something you couldn’t quite place. “You’ve been distant. Ever since that incident the other night…”

Your heart started to race, his words making the memory of that night flood back all at once. You tried to mask the panic rising in your chest with a dismissive laugh. “I thought you already forgot about that.”

Jiung frowned, tilting his head slightly. “Seems like you haven’t forgotten about it either, judging by the way you’ve been acting.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, you looked away, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Taking a deep breath, you finally said, “Look, Jiung… this is already embarrassing enough for me. Why can’t we just pretend like it never happened?”

For a moment, Jiung was silent, his brows furrowing slightly as he processed your words. Then, his voice came softly, almost hesitantly. “Because maybe I don’t want to pretend like it didn’t.”

You froze, your eyes snapping back to him. “What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What do you mean?”

Jiung let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration, not at you, but at himself. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but… I don’t know.”

Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were sure he could hear it. The vulnerability in his voice, the way he was looking at you, left you completely speechless. But you couldn’t let this conversation continue, not now, not when your emotions were already so raw.

“I have to get up early tomorrow,” you said quickly, stepping back. “We should talk about this another time.”

Jiung nodded slowly, though his expression was filled with reluctance. “Alright,” he said softly. But as you turned to leave, he called out again, his voice stopping you in your tracks. “Y/n.”

You glanced back at him, your breath hitching when you saw the look in his eyes. “Please stop pushing me away from you,” he said, his voice almost a plea.

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you forced them back, swallowing the lump in your throat. Smiling faintly, you gave him a small nod. “I promise I’m not,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly.

Before he could say anything else, you turned and walked away, the tears you’d been holding back finally slipping down your cheeks as you disappeared into the night. Behind you, Jiung remained standing there, watching your retreating figure, his breath visible in the cold air. The ache in his chest was undeniable, but all he could do was wonder how to fix what felt like a growing distance between the two of you.

The silence in your apartment was deafening, broken only by the muffled hum of traffic outside. You sank into the sofa, burying your face in your hands and letting out a long, shaky sigh. The evening’s events played on a loop in your mind - Jiung’s voice, his plea for you to stop pushing him away, the look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher.

Your chest ached with guilt and confusion. You hated the way you’d been treating him lately, how you’d let your own feelings complicate everything. You’d always thought that as long as you kept those feelings hidden, you’d be able to hold onto your friendship with him. But now it felt like the harder you tried to keep your emotions in check, the more they were pulling you apart.

What am I supposed to do? you thought, running a hand through your hair. If you told him the truth, you risked ruining everything. But if you kept pushing him away, you knew it would hurt even more.

And then there was the look on his face when you walked away tonight - the confusion, the hurt. It lingered in your mind like a ghost, and a pang of regret washed over you. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be left standing alone in the cold, wondering what he’d done wrong. But what could you even say to him? What words could possibly make this right?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sharp sound of the doorbell ringing. You sat up, startled, your heart skipping a beat. It was late. Too late for someone to be visiting. Your first instinct was to ignore it, but when it rang again, curiosity got the better of you. Rising from the couch, you padded to the door, hesitating for a moment before looking through the peephole.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Jiung.

He was standing there, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, his hair slightly messy from the wind outside. His expression was tense, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he glanced toward the hallway and back at your door.

Your heart raced, panic blooming in your chest. What was he doing here? Had he followed you home? And more importantly, why?

You stepped back from the door, your hand hovering over the doorknob. A part of you wanted to open it, to let him in and finally have the conversation you’d been avoiding for so long. But another part of you was terrified. Terrified of what he might say, of what you might have to admit. Were you ready for this?

The doorbell rang again, a soft but insistent chime that made you flinch.

“Y/n,” Jiung’s voice came from the other side of the door, muffled but clear enough to send your heart into overdrive. “I know you’re there. Can we talk? Please?”

You closed your eyes, pressing your palms against the wood of the door as if it could shield you from the emotions surging inside you. The sound of his voice, so gentle and full of something you couldn’t quite name, made it impossible to think straight.

“Y/n,” he called again, his tone softer now. “I’m not leaving until we talk.”

You bit your lip, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. If you didn’t open the door, he would just stand there, waiting, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him spending the night like that. But if you opened it, you knew there would be no turning back. You’d have to face him, face everything you’d been running from.

Taking a deep breath, you wrapped your fingers around the doorknob, hesitating for just a moment longer before finally turning it. As the door swung open, you were met with Jiung’s wide, dark eyes, filled with a mixture of relief and concern.

“Jiung,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He let out a small breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m sorry for showing up like this,” he said, his voice earnest. “But I couldn’t just leave things the way they were.”

You nodded, stepping back to let him inside. He hesitated for a moment before stepping through the doorway, his presence filling the small space in a way that made your chest tighten. You closed the door behind him, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was, of how quiet the room had become.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Jiung glanced around your apartment briefly before turning back to you, his expression serious. “Y/n… are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

You nodded quickly, folding your arms over your chest. “I’m fine,” you said, though the words felt hollow even as they left your lips.

Jiung frowned, his brows furrowing slightly. “No, you’re not,” he said gently. “You’ve been acting differently ever since… that night. And I don’t know why, but it feels like I’ve done something to hurt you.”

You shook your head, your throat tightening. “You didn’t,” you said quickly. “It’s not you, Jiung. It’s me.”

His eyes searched yours, filled with concern and something else you couldn’t quite name. “Then tell me what’s going on,” he said softly. “Please. I don’t want to keep guessing.”

You looked away, your arms tightening around yourself. You could feel the tears building in your eyes again, but you blinked them back, trying to keep your composure. “Jiung, I…” You trailed off, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

He took a step closer, his voice quieter now. “Then just say what you’re thinking. Whatever it is, I will listen.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache, and you finally looked up at him, your heart breaking all over again at the sight of his worried expression. He’s your best friend, you reminded yourself. He doesn’t deserve this.

Taking a shaky breath, you said the only thing you could manage in the moment. “I’m just scared, Jiung. I’m scared of losing you.”

Jiung’s eyes softened, his expression shifting into something gentle and full of understanding. “Y/n,” he said quietly. “You’re not going to lose me. Ever.”

You wanted to believe him. But deep down, you weren’t sure if that was a promise he could keep.

The room felt heavy with silence, the air thick with unspoken words as you stood there, your heart pounding against your ribcage. Jiung was looking at you - really looking at you - with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. You tried to calm the whirlwind inside you, but it was impossible. You’d just told him the truth, something you’d buried deep for so long. The weight of your confession hung in the space between you, and for a terrifying moment, you wished you could take it all back.

But you couldn’t. And maybe you didn’t want to.

Taking a shaky breath, you forced yourself to speak, though your voice was barely above a whisper. “Jiung, there’s something I need to tell you…” You hesitated, your hands trembling slightly. How could you put this into words without falling apart completely? “I’ve been feeling… something for you. For a while now. And I’ve tried so hard to ignore it, but it’s getting to the point where I can’t anymore.”

Your voice cracked, and you felt your throat tighten, your vision blurring as tears began to well up. “You’re my best friend,” you said, your voice trembling. “And I know I shouldn’t feel this way about you. But I do. I can’t stop it, no matter how hard I try. And the more I try to push it down, the more I push you away, and I hate myself for it.”

Tears spilled over, streaming down your cheeks as your voice broke completely. “I’m scared, Jiung. I’m so scared of losing you because I don’t know what I’d do without you. But… I know that after this, things will never be the same again. I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

You covered your face with your hands, trying to hide the tears that were falling freely now. “I’m so sorry,” you choked out, your voice muffled by your palms. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Before you could spiral further into your own despair, you felt Jiung’s hands gently wrap around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face. “No, y/n,” he said softly, his voice steady and firm. “Don’t say that. Don’t apologize.”

You looked up at him, your breath hitching as you saw the tenderness in his eyes. His expression was unreadable, a mix of emotions swirling in his gaze, but there was no anger, no disappointment. Only something warm and soft that made your chest ache.

“I’m the one who should apologize,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked at him, confusion washing over you. “What…? Why would you apologize?”

Jiung’s lips parted as if to speak, but he hesitated, his brows furrowing slightly. He looked down for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before meeting your eyes again. “Because I had no idea you were feeling this way,” he said, his voice thick with guilt. “I should have known. I should have noticed. And I didn’t.”

Your chest tightened, embarrassment flooding you as you stood there, exposed and vulnerable. You felt like you couldn’t bear another second of this. “Jiung, I get it,” you said, your voice shaking. “If you want to leave, if you need time to-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jiung interrupted, his voice firm as he took a step closer to you. “Y/n, I mean it. I’m not going anywhere.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to even breathe. And then he said it. The words you never thought you’d hear.

“Look…” Jiung started, his voice faltering slightly as he hesitated. He let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair before meeting your gaze again. “I’ve been trying to figure some things out lately, and I think… I feel the same way.”

Your heart stopped. The air seemed to leave your lungs as you stared at him, your mind struggling to process what he’d just said. “What… what do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely audible, trembling with disbelief.

Jiung took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words. “I care about you so much, y/n,” he said softly, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You’ve always been there for me, no matter what. And I… I’ve liked you for a while now. But I thought it was just some silly feeling, something I could shake off. I was scared of ruining what we have, so I tried to ignore it. But the more I tried to push it down, the harder it became to pretend it wasn’t there.”

You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. Your mind was racing, your heart pounding so hard it was almost painful. “So… does this mean…” you started, your voice trembling as you tried to get the words out. “Does this mean you…?”

“Yes, y/n,” Jiung said, cutting you off gently. “I like you. A lot.”

The room seemed to go completely still. The silence between you stretched on, heavy and fragile, as if the moment could shatter at any second. You stared at him, trying to make sense of what was happening, trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t just some dream.

Jiung shifted slightly, his expression softening as he spoke again. “I’ve been so scared, too,” he admitted. “Scared of losing you, scared of messing things up. But I can’t keep pretending anymore.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You were too overwhelmed, too consumed by the emotions crashing over you like waves. Jiung liked you. Jiung liked you.

“I…” You tried to speak, but your voice faltered. Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from sadness. “I don’t know what to say.”

Jiung smiled softly, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “You don’t have to say anything right now,” he said gently. “I just… I needed you to know.”

For what felt like an eternity, the two of you stood there in silence, your emotions swirling together in the quiet. Finally, you let out a shaky breath, a small, tentative smile breaking through the tears on your face.

“I never thought…” you started, your voice trembling. “I never thought you’d feel the same way.”

Jiung stepped closer, his hand brushing yours lightly, as if testing the waters. “I do,” he said simply. “And I’m done pretending I don’t.”

You looked up at him, your heart still racing, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself hope.

The room was still, the air charged with emotions that neither of you fully knew how to navigate. Jiung stood before you, his words still ringing in your ears, his confession slowly sinking into your heart. You had imagined so many scenarios of how this moment might go, but now that it was here, it felt both surreal and terrifying.

Your mind drifted back to that night, the night everything shifted, and the question that had been nagging at you ever since. Finally, you found the courage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “Jiung… then why did you pull away when I tried to kiss you?”

He hesitated, his eyes briefly looking away as if the memory unsettled him. But then he met your gaze again, his expression soft and sincere. “Because you were drunk,” he said gently. “I didn’t want you to regret it the next day. I didn’t know how you really felt, and I didn’t want to take advantage of the situation.”

His words hung in the air, the truth of them hitting you like a wave. You could see it now, the hesitation in his eyes that night, the way he’d looked at you, not with rejection but with caution and concern.

Jiung shifted slightly, his voice lowering as he continued. “I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, not when you weren’t thinking clearly. And honestly…” He paused, his brows knitting together. “I was scared. Scared that it would confuse me even more about what I was feeling.”

A soft flush crept up your cheeks, and you looked down at the floor, embarrassed by how much you’d misunderstood. You let out a quiet, almost whispered, “Oh…”

Jiung’s hands reached for yours, his touch warm and grounding. He held them gently, his thumbs brushing over your skin. “Y/n,” he said softly, his voice full of emotion. “I would never brush you off like that. I just… I didn’t know what to do in that moment. I didn’t know how much it would hurt you.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and shook your head. “You couldn’t have known,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s not your fault. I should have-”

“Please don’t be sorry,” Jiung interrupted, his grip on your hands tightening just slightly, as if to steady you. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t know what to say, or how to handle things, and I ended up hurting you. I never wanted to hurt you, y/n.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from sadness. They were from the overwhelming mix of emotions, relief, gratitude, and something deeper that you couldn’t quite name. You shook your head again, forcing a small smile. “It’s okay,” you said softly. “You couldn’t have known. None of this is your fault.”

Jiung studied you for a moment, his gaze tender but filled with uncertainty. “So…” he began, his voice hesitant. “What are we supposed to do now?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the question. It was one you’d been asking yourself over and over, and yet you didn’t have an answer either. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “What do you want to do?”

Jiung shrugged lightly, his lips tugging into a faint, nervous smile. “All I know is that I don’t want to push you away anymore,” he said. “I don’t know how things will turn out between us, but… I want to try.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in your chest began to ease. A genuine smile broke across your face as you nodded. “Me too,” you said softly.

Jiung’s smile widened, his entire face lighting up in a way that made your heart swell. Without another word, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, secure embrace. You melted into him, your head resting against his chest, his steady heartbeat calming the storm inside you. His hand rested lightly on the back of your head, his touch gentle yet grounding.

“I believe we can make this work,” Jiung murmured, his voice quiet but full of conviction. “One step at a time.”

You closed your eyes, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of him, and a soft smile curved your lips. “This is all I ever wanted,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest.

Jiung’s arms tightened around you slightly, as if to reassure you that he wasn’t going anywhere. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight you’d been carrying began to lift. The fear, the doubt, the pain - they were still there, but they were softer now, overshadowed by the warmth of his embrace and the promise of something new.

Neither of you said anything more, content to stand there in the quiet of your apartment, holding on to each other as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. And for that moment, it didn’t. It was just you and Jiung, figuring it out together, one step at a time.

The warmth of Jiung’s embrace was comforting, like a safe harbor in the middle of the storm that had been swirling between you for weeks. But after what felt like forever, Jiung slowly pulled back, his arms still resting loosely around you as he gazed down at you. His face was close, so close you could feel his breath against your skin, and your heart started to race all over again.

You looked up at him, your cheeks warm as a shy smile tugged at your lips. Jiung smiled back, his expression soft and full of something that made your chest tighten in the best way. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence stretching between you, filled with unspoken feelings.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, his confidence faltering slightly as a faint blush crept into his cheeks. He hesitated, clearing his throat softly before speaking. “Can I…” he murmured, his voice trailing off as if he was afraid to finish the question.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your own cheeks flush as you gave him the tiniest nod, your smile widening slightly. Jiung’s lips quirked up nervously before he closed his eyes, his head tilting forward as he leaned in closer. You could feel your stomach twist with anticipation, your mind reeling as the moment you had imagined so many times began to unfold.

But just as his lips were about to brush yours, you blurted out, “Wait!”

Jiung froze immediately, his eyes snapping open as he pulled back slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the grin forming on your face. And then, unable to hold it in, you let it out, a cheeky smile that made Jiung blink at you in surprise. “You’re not going to turn your head away this time, are you?” you teased, your tone light and playful.

Jiung stared at you for a moment before letting out a laugh, the sound rich and genuine, filling the room with warmth. He shook his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled down at you. “I promise I won’t,” he said, his voice firm but laced with amusement.

You giggled softly, your cheeks burning as you nodded again. “Okay,” you whispered, your heart pounding as you watched him lean in once more.

This time, there was no hesitation. His lips brushed against yours, soft and warm, and the world seemed to melt away. The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with so much vulnerability it made your chest ache. It wasn’t rushed or intense - it was perfect. Better than you’d ever imagined in all the nights you’d dreamed of this moment.

A million butterflies erupted in your stomach, and for a brief second, you forgot how to breathe. Jiung’s hands gently rested on your waist, grounding you, while your own hands instinctively reached up, brushing against his arms as you leaned into the kiss.

When he finally pulled back, his face was still close to yours, his eyes searching yours nervously. “Was that okay?” he asked, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

You couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks burning as you replied, “More than okay.”

Jiung let out a laugh, his tension easing as a wide grin spread across his face. “Good,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “Because I thought it felt really nice.”

You giggled, nodding in agreement. “It did. Really nice.”

He smiled at you for a moment longer before his expression turned playful. “We should do this more often,” he said, his tone light but filled with a teasing edge.

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you bit your lip nervously, trying to suppress the grin threatening to take over your face. Jiung’s laugh filled the space between you, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly with him, your heart feeling so light it was almost overwhelming.

As the laughter faded, the two of you stood there in comfortable silence, his hands still resting on your waist, your hands brushing lightly against his arms. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for weeks was gone, replaced by a warmth that spread through your entire being. You felt happy. Truly, blissfully happy. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t scared of what the future might hold.

This was the moment you had been dreaming of, and now that it had finally come, it was better than anything you could have imagined. You didn’t know what would come next, but as you looked up at Jiung’s smiling face, you knew one thing for certain.

Whatever the future held, you couldn’t wait to face it with him by your side.

© sweetmisery - please do not repost my works! ♡

[cupcakeslushie]

i love that you said each of the bois have unspoken themes to them, that makes characters so much more deeper and interesting.

if you wouldn’t mind can you say what unspoken themes Leo, Mikey, and Raph have?

some are more obvious than others, and while i have a decent idea of what they are, i want to hear them coming from you ✨

adore your work btw, your storytelling and style enraptures me

This might be a big post just so I have everyone all in one place im going to reiterate what I said for Donnie

@aduckmurder

Donnie: Identity/Depersonalization

When Donnie's first introduced Draxum doesn't even consider him a person, and hadn't even given him a name. And then, later Donnie's got too many names to choose from. That alone would cause someone to have an identity crisis. Personality wise, he enjoys making tech, but aside from that, Donnie is never sure of which emotions he should be feeling, or what his likes and dislikes are. A lot of the time he's mirroring how his brothers are emoting, or he's just smiling to cover up the fact that he doesn't know or trust his own feelings. Future Donnie will have a horrible time with depersonalization after merging with the Technodrome and the Kraang, which will cycle around to impact present timeline Donnie during the movie.

Mikey: Worth

While Donnie was treated like nothing, Mikey was treated like an object/accessory by Big Mama. When she threw him into the Nexus, Mikey imagined it was something he did or didn't do well enough to meet her high standards. After he's reunited with Splinter and Raph, Mikey finds the little roles that neither of them have filled very well, such as cooking, and cleaning, and makes sure he excels at them almost obsessively out of this fear that if he's not useful, then he will be discarded. Future Mikey works tirelessly as the only brother with his mystic powers still intact, to the point that his body is so overworked by the time of the movie, he looks like he's moments from shattering apart, only held together through his own force of will.

Leo: Doubt

Leo has lived his life being ordered around and having his memories and personality altered. Even once he is free, his emotions are almost as erratic without Kitsune's influence, than they were while he was under her control (at least until his own cleansing ritual). His instinctual gut reaction to use most violent tactic first, clearly makes his family uneasy. So when Raph tries to get Leo to act as co-leader, Leo is very hesitant. He doesn't think he should be trusted with such a responsibility, but learns he can trust if he goes too far, his brothers will stop him. Future Leo has a really hard time with raising Casey. After Raph's gone, Leo doesn't trust any of the decisions he's now having to make solo, and he certainly doesn't think he can be a guiding force for good for a young child. Casey needs a teacher who will shape him into a strong warrior. Leo learns as Casey grows, that being the boy's Sensei is not the same as being his Master.

Raph: Regret/Guilt

Raph blames himself for almost every horrible thing his brothers and father have gone through. He's recounted the night that Leo and Mikey were taken, and gone over it a thousand times in his head, trying to work out how it could've gone differently. All the amazing things he's done by bringing his family together--being the stable bedrock that they can grow into a true family under--none of that feels like it'll ever make up for the times in the past where he failed to protect them. Raph takes on the job of shield because he wants to make sure nothing else ever hurts his brothers again, and doesn't care if hurts him instead. Future Raph is constantly putting his brothers' lives before his own. Unfortunately, doing it one too many times results in a devastating loss for the Resistance, when their Leader sacrifices himself, and the chain of command practically falls apart for months before it can recover.

[seretoningghost]

Tomura Shigaraki x Male Reader

WARNINGS : LIME! BLOWJOB! Mild sizeplay(?) Small cock appreciation for Tomura😊💕. TOP MALE READER.

Haha. This one's a bit short but its cute.

Idk if you'd call this a lime cus like - blowjob? But Idk? No sex happens.

Ha- Imagine Y/N having a quirk that causes him to overheat when he uses it.

Quirk not mentioned.

(I HAD TEXT TO SPEECH READ IT BACK TO ME SINCE I WAS BUSY- AND YALL- WHY DOES IT MAKE EVERYTHING SOUND SO BAD😭)

THIRD PERSON POV

Y/N huffed, walking into the kitchen and opening the fridge.

Panting quietly as sweat dripped down his body, grabbing his waterbottle.

Tomura slugged into the kitchen, bored and not sure what he wanted to do.

He thought he'd maybe look for a snack - and oh, looks like he found one.

Grinning as he spotted Y/N, eyes gleeming mischievously.

Tomura stood beside the island table, suddenly feeling quite aroused - damn stupid horomones, no matter, as he was lucky and had a boyfriend.

Tomura arched his back slightly, sticking out his ass as he put his elbow on the countertop, propping up his head with his hand.

"Oh~? Overheating again? You know that is really some pathetic quirk you have~.. Being driven to even pass out from such a pathetic side effect~.." Tomura teased with his raspy voice, with a shit eating grin.

Knowing fully well Y/N was a important and vital member to L.O.V, and that it pissed Y/N off more than it rationally should.

...

That and Y/N could pound his ass sore in a fucking instant- a blush rose to Tomura's face, still not loosing his gusto.

It was still so entrancing to him that Y/N was bigger and stronger than him, and Y/N was immune to his quirk - so Tomura couldn't stop him even if he wanted to.

Y/N, who was chugging his ice cold water, huffed - pulled his water bottle from his lips and growled.

Having heard this teasing before he was so fucking done with it.

"Shigaraki you better shut your mouth- because I swear to god if you open your mouth one more time you'll regret it." Y/N glared.

Shigaraki grinned wider, eyes glinting happily, he tried to play it off - but his body collectively shivered.

Shigaraki calmly opened his mouth, his smugness still apparent as he kept his mouth open.

...

And that's how Shigaraki ended up laying on his back on a bed - head hanging off the edge, face dripping with drool - and completely getting his mouth fucked out of it.

Shigaraki would be giggling and moaning in gleeful lust - had he space in his mouth to do much more than let out a guttural moan with each thrust.

Shigaraki most certainly didn't expect this to be his punishment - but he didnt exactly object to his empty mouth being put to use.

If anyone had asked him before this moment - Shigaraki would have asked to be fucked, but Shigaraki had never like this before experienced the sheer joy and sexual enjoyment there could be in giving a blowjob.

Shigaraki was beginning to question his ability to ever again not have something stuffing his mouth.

Shigaraki had his tongue lolled out against the topside of Y/N's cock, loud lewd blowjob and instinctual gagging noises leaving his throat.

It was messy, and that was making him so horny.

A whine leaving his throat as Y/N roughly and quickly throat fucked him.

He wanted to touch himself so bad - but each time he tried Y/N said no and moved his hand away.

Shigaraki's cock throbbed against his pants, a rock hard tent pert in his pants, his cock making a large wet spot through his boxers.

He was so close to cumming - and he wasnt even embaressed at that anymore.

Shigaraki shifted his legs again, having them propped up and bent at the knees.

He didnt care how pathetic it made him look - he wanted to cum so bad - and keep cumming, Y/N was fucking his throat so good.

His eyes were practically crossed he was so fucked out of it.

There were almost no thoughts behind his eyes.

Just one remained, cum.

Whether he came - or Y/N came, he didnt care anymore. He wanted cum.

Shigaraki slowly and feebly shifted his hand - reaching for his zipper - as if being slow Y/N wouldn't see him in the lit room.

"Shigaraki.. Stop that. I said that t-this is your punishment. You can't touch yourself." Y/N groaned.

Shigaraki shuddered, feeling Y/Ns cock fuck his throat somehow deeper - it was like all the smarts in his brain were being fucked out of him.

He moved his hand away, gripping onto the bed - his gloves really coming in handy now.

Tomura suddenly bringing his thighs together and rubbing, Y/N grinned, panting as he watched.

Tomura was being a obedient little cock slut - keeping his throat open and staying still - despite how hard Y/N fucked his throat.

It was even more cute and demeaning that Shigaraki was following his commands and instead rubbing his thighs together like a bitch in heat.

"You wanna cum so bad don't you~?" Y/N teased with a grin, he was close, he just wanted to see how easily he could get Tomura to cum.

Y/N could tell by the loud moan Shigaraki made each time he got the chance that he was affirming Y/N.

"Yeah~? Yeah~? Using nothing but my cock ramming in your throat to get off~?" Y/N whined, feeling closer than he was before.

Tomura's eyes rolled back pleasurably - not that Y/N could see at his angle.

"Alright then slut... Cum~.." Y/N purred, taking a firm grip around Tomura's throat.

Shigaraki's thighs shuddered hard, a loud high pitched whine exiting his throat.

He creamed in his pants, hard.

His cock sore and throbbing from the lack of stimulation, already shuddering from the gross feel in his pants as the wettness stickily webbed between his cock - abdomen - and boxers.

It quickly getting colder.

Y/N groaned, the sight alone of Tomura convulsing on his cock causing his to cum.

Jizz shooting into Tomura's mouth.

Shigaraki moaned pathetically, his cock feeling overstimuated by the soreness.

Enjoying the large mass of sticky cum in his mouth.

A soft shudder racking down his spine.

After a few thrusts Y/N pulled out, panting loudly.

Tomura pawwed at the cum in his mouth with his tongue, soaking in the favor before swallowing.

Dribbles of cum leaking out of the corners of his lips, but he didn't care.

"Oh my... What a good boy~..." Y/N teased with a grin, putting himself back inside his boxers - still leaving his pants unzipped, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Tomura's head.

Y/N ran a hand through Tomura's hair - Tomura letting out a soft 'ghhahh' of a sigh as he finally caught his breath.

"Your still hard~... I'll just take care of that~.." Y/N grinned, licking his lips as he leaned over.

"N-No!"

Y/N looked back to Tomura.

"I-Im just so... S-sensitive - I-I can't..." Tomura whined.

Y/N was shocked, usually Tomura had a high libido and was ready to go at practically any time.

Y/N smirked, and cooed.

"I'll be gentle.. I promise~..." Y/N said as he leaned closer - undoing Tomura's zipper.

"A-Ah... N-No- please... Y-Your tongue is just so-"

Y/N wide swipe licked Shigaraki's cock from tip to base.

"W-Warm! A-a-and b-Big!" Shigaraki shuddered - cock twitching wildly against Y/N's tongue.

Shigaraki shifted on the bed whining as his cock ached against Y/Ns tongue.

"Such a big messy load this time~..." Y/N praised, gently lapping against the side of Tomura's cock.

"P-Please..." Tomura whined, looking at the ceiling.

He didn't know if he was asking for more, or begging for Y/N to stop.

But Y/N didn't pay heed, Tomura knew his safe word.

"I think this might be your biggest load yet~.." Y/N cooed as he happily licked another broad stripe on Tomura's cock.

"b-big..." Tomura squeaked - feeling Y/N's large tongue swipe against his member.

"I'm not big, your just small.. Just like your cute handsome cock~.." Y/N purred, gently taking hold of Shigaraki's base with his index and thumb - tilting his cock to lick at the topside.

Y/N always loved Shigaraki's 3-4" cock, easily being able to envelope him in his warm mouth and get whines out of him - pleading how it was too warm or stimulating.

Y/N was standardly a big guy already - but something about the exaggeration between their sizes was super hot.

Y/N opened his mouth wide - making unnecessarily lewd wet noises - spit webbing between his teeth and tongue.

Y/N was horny all over again, he wasn't hard - but even if he did get hard it would be enough to just please his lover.

Y/N made sure to flatten out his tongue as he licked stripes across Tomura's pelvic section - making his tongue as wide as possible as he lapped up the thickening cum.

Once that was all done now he just had to finish off Shigaraki's cock.

"Juuust a bit moooore~.." Y/N teased with a grin, opening his mouth noisily wide.

Shigaraki's cock twitched - before Y/N knew it Shigaraki's hands were intangled in his hair - pushing him down roughly.

Holding his head in place as Tomura fucked his mouth hard and frantically - his hips bucking up forcefully.

Y/Ns body getting hotter at how sexy it was, pushing down and doing his best to suck and swirl his tongue.

Shigaraki was huffing and whining frantically, his cock throbbing and aching from abuse - but Y/N's mouth felt so warm and soft and so good.

Shigaraki didn't care how desperate or premature it seemed - Y/N was just so hot and he wanted to cum so bad.

Letting out a sudden moan he threw back his head - Y/N placing a hand on Shigaraki's hip as his back arched.

Y/N making sure to lean in even further and lap up Shigaraki's load.

Y/N pulled off with a pop once Shigaraki had rode off his high, grinning as he looked at Shigaraki.

"Satisfied~?"

Shigaraki was panting softly, but he shifted his gaze to Y/N - seeing Y/N grin - with cum dribbling down his chin.

"Would you stop doing that!" Shigaraki whined - covering his face as he blushed.

"Doing what~?"

"Leaking cum and spit on purpose!" Shigaraki groaned.

Y/N chuckled.

_________________________________________

Hello! You made it to the end! :3🎉

Also thank you to everyone liking my stories you mean the world to me!😘 You would not BELIEVE the amount of motivation it gives me!

[hbyrde36]

Times Like These

(The Anniversary Edition)

Link to anniversary post

Now with amazing FANART 😱

When Eddie finds himself back in his living room, staring down a very alive Chrissy Cunningham, after just having bled to death himself in the middle of a nightmare world, he was rightfully very, very fucking confused.

-Or-

What happens when the new guy, who only just got inducted into the fucked up world of monsters and mayhem, gets stuck in a time loop and finds himself responsible for saving everyone?

Chapter 1: The Hell Loop

WC: 2,902 | AO3 link

Eddie could hardly breathe past the blood that was flooding into his mouth, threatening to choke him before he even had the opportunity to bleed out. He tried to keep it together for Dustin’s sake. The last thing he wanted was for the kid to get hurt or have to see something like this, hence the cutting of the rope, but traumatized was a hell of a lot better than dead, so he couldn’t regret either of the choices he’d made.

“I love you, man.” 

Eddie forced the words out, coughing and sputtering

“I love you too.” Dustin replied.

Eddie couldn’t see anymore, but the tears in the younger boy's voice were hard to miss. 

It was the last thing he heard before he died.

Dying didn’t hurt, quite the opposite actually. Eddie could pinpoint the exact moment he passed on, because it was the same moment the pain stopped. He found himself floating away into an unfamiliar blackness and couldn’t even bring himself to be scared. He was too relieved at being free of the agony and guilt.

Before he could do much more than wonder where he was floating off to, a loud almost overwhelming rushing sound hit his ears. Instinctually, he tried to cover them to drown out the noise, only to realize he didn’t exactly have a body right now. No ears to cover, no hands to do it with.

With that frightening thought his eyes shot open, -oh thank fuck he had eyes again- and his feet hit solid ground. Inexplicably, he was back in the trailer. He looked up to find that the ceiling was intact, and Chrissy Cunningham– whole, and alive, was standing just a few feet in front of him, looking nervous and jittery. 

“Are you sure you have it?”

What the actual fuck?

“Holy shit, Chrissy! You’re alive?!” Eddie gasped.

Her face twisted up in confusion, a feeling Eddie was also becoming intimately familiar with. What was this? Some life-flashing-before-your-eyes-on-the-way-to-the-grave bullshit? But he was already dead, he was sure of it, so that could only mean…

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out. 

Why he was apologizing to some visage of the past that probably wasn't even real, he did not know, but it felt appropriate. 

She’d been through a lot. 

“You’re probably not alive, actually, if you’re here. Since I'm, y’know– dead, and all.” He continued, letting out a frankly deranged sounding laugh as he began to pace around the room.

“But why are you here?” He mused, thinking out loud.

It could actually be her, he reasoned. She was dead too, right? But that would mean they wound up in the same place and that was absolutely ridiculous. 

A sweet little thing like her? 

Guaranteed one way ticket to the good place. 

And Eddie? 

Well, he never had any doubts about where he was going to end up.

The realization hit him like a Mack truck, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Oh my god, I’m in Hell. This is Hell. I ran away. I ran– I didn’t even try to help you and then I fucking died!” Eddie let out a painful sob as he dropped to his knees on the floor, hands covering his face. Now that he was back here, having to face her again after what he’d done, It was all hitting him at once. 

His voice shook as he continued rambling. “Right in front of Dustin too… and- and now this is my Hell. I’ll probably have to watch you die, over-and-over-and-over again.”

He felt the air shift, heard the light footsteps as Chrissy took a few hesitant steps towards him. 

“Watch me die?” She said, voice cracking, sounding so, so small and scared. “Eddie, please… you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Shit, he really couldn’t stop fucking this up could he? 

Even if Hell-Chrissy wasn’t real, he still felt horrible for scaring her. None of this was her fault. He rubbed at his face hard and took a deep calming breath before looking up at her again. 

She wasn’t looking at him anymore though. She was rigid, staring straight ahead at something he couldn’t see, only the whites of her eyes visible as they rolled to the back of her head. 

He jumped to his feet, every instinct in his body screaming at him to run, again, but fuck that. He was already dead, probably, and none of this was real– he was almost sure none of this was real, but maybe he could still try to help her. 

Music had snapped Red out of it, maybe it would work for Chrissy too. 

Eddie raced to his bedroom, snatching his Walkman off the bed before sprinting back to the living room. He knew it was pretty fucking unlikely that the head cheerleader of Hawkins High was a secret Metallica fan, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

He gently placed the headphones over her ears and pressed play, the volume loud enough that he could just make out the sound of the opening riff to Master of Puppets.

-

It didn’t work. 

He hadn’t really thought it would.

He forced himself to watch as her body began to float.

Listened to the sickening snap as each of her arms and legs were twisted, and broken.

Stood frozen, a silent witness, unmoving until her body dropped to the floor like a ragdoll.

He didn't even scream.

He’d tried, and he hadn’t let her die alone. It was all he could do.

Hell or not, Eddie wasn’t keen on hanging out with a dead body if he could help it. So finally, he let himself go, grabbing his keys off the counter, and rushed out to the van.

–

Eddie drove slowly, aimlessly around town, at a bit of a loss for what to do next. It was a far cry from the way he’d peeled out of the trailer park and sped down the road on the night of Chrissy’s actual death, heart racing like a trapped rat desperately seeking shelter from a predator he couldn't even see. This time around he just felt numb.

Not knowing what else to do, he decided to follow his previous course of action. If he was right in assuming that he was being made to relive his greatest hits from the last 7 days, at least this way he knew he’d get to see Dustin’s face again. He drove towards Lover’s Lake, already dreading spending another night at Rick’s.

–

The morning after a sleepless night found him back in a boat, hiding under a tarp, and clutching tightly to the neck of a broken beer bottle. The numbness had faded hours ago, leaving the door open for anxiety and terror to return in full force. In short, Eddie was freaking out. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d left Chrissy's body to grow cold on the living room floor, but the second he heard the voices outside the boathouse he went into panic mode, just as he had the first time, unsure of what or who might be coming for him. 

Would it be more visions from the past? Or had the devil finally sent his minions to collect.

A few confusing moments, and a jab to the ribs with a fucking wooden oar later, Eddie was, for the second time in his life, throwing Steve Harrington violently against a wall and shoving a jagged edge of glass close enough to his throat that one deep breath would draw blood.

He stared into the other boy's eyes from inches away, and he wanted to drop the bottle. He remembered every single thing Steve and the others had done for him as he faced down the worst week of his life, but this could very well be Hell. 

And that might not be the Steve he’d come to trust.

The one he’d come to know wasn’t the same stuck up asshole he remembered from high school, who had proven time and time again that he was a good guy.

And he couldn’t afford to be wrong.

“Eddie! Stop!” The thing that looked like Dustin shouted. “Eddie, it’s me, it's Dustin. This is Steve, he’s not gonna hurt you. Right, Steve?”

Eddie, wanting to believe it so badly, actually did lower the bottle a little, only to accidentally drop it to the ground, his only weapon shattering at his feet. 

He fisted a hand into the front of Steve’s shirt. 

“What are you doing here man, what do you want from me?” 

Steve dropped the oar, all the breath whooshing out of him at once. “Dustin and Max wanted to find you. I’m just here to keep the little shits safe, I swear.”

Eddie caught movement out of the corner of his eye as Robin and Max began to approach from the side cautiously. Right, they had been there too, he'd almost forgotten. 

“We just want to know what happened, Eddie. We wanna help,” Max said.

It was the earnestness in her voice that got him, that made him finally break and move away from Steve, allowing Robin to rush to his side. 

“You won’t believe me,” Eddie said, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice with the way it trembled. 

He was sure they wouldn't believe it. If it even mattered, if they were even really here, if any of this was even real. 

He was still pretty convinced this was all just some form of divine punishment, and only happening in his own head, after all. 

It wasn’t about what happened to Chrissy. He knew they would believe that, they had once already, but whatever else was going on here? This deja vu flashback thing or whatever it was? They had no reason to trust he was telling the truth about the fact that he was dead– or had died temporarily? Or that this had all happened to him before. 

It was, admittedly, unbelievable. 

So, he made a choice. He didn't tell them that part. He told the same story he had the first time around and they in turn told him a very short history of the Upside Down. It didn’t hit so hard this time, since he’d already heard it all once before, but it was still wild to think about everything this group had been through. He couldn’t believe it’d all been happening right under his nose.

Despite himself, he watched Steve through most of the explanations. Eddie had been so focused on his own experience at the time that he hadn’t paid much attention to him after the attempted throat slashing. He looked dejected, sad, already resigned to the fact that the monsters he’d been protecting these kids from for years now were back, again. Eddie sympathized.

-

The week flew by in a blur of blood, sweat, and tears, events unfolding in the exact same way that he remembered, and he never said a word about it to anyone. 

He kept expecting it all to end somehow. 

On the rare occasion that he fell asleep,  he thought for sure he would wake up from this nightmare either back in his bed after having the longest most fucked up dream of his life, or somewhere– else, preferably on a fluffy cloud after having served his penance for petty crimes.

Unless god actually did hate the gays… then he was fucked. 

It wasn’t until he and Dustin were alone, after fortifying the trailer and getting his guitar set up that he decided– maybe he’d been an idiot to just keep going along with the script like this. It’d been days without so much as a hint of fire and brimstone, so either he'd been sold a bill of goods his whole life about what Hell would be like, or, this was really happening. 

Again. 

At this point, neither possibility was a particularly good one. If he’d been somehow sent back in time and given a second chance, he had absolutely screwed it up. 

Fuck it, he might as well tell Dustin now at least. See what happened.

“Alright, uh, listen, I have to tell you something– and I’m not sure you’re going to believe me but I swear I’m telling you the truth.”

Dustin laughed, bright and incredulous as he checked the plugs on the amp one last time. “After everything we’ve been through the past few days, and the shit I’ve seen over the last three years, do you really think there’s anything I wouldn’t believe?”

Ok, kid had a point. 

Eddie took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

Here goes nothing. 

“I’ve been through this before, all of it, with you guys. For a while I thought I was in Hell, y’know? Doomed to relive Chrissy’s death over and over again, and between you and me I’m still not totally sure that isn’t the case, but then you guys found me in that damn boathouse just like before, and everything else has happened exactly like I remember, and I-” 

His speech was cut short by Dustin screeching, “Are you serious right now?! You have to be fucking kidding me! I can’t believe you… you’re in a time loop and you didn’t say anything?!”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open, eyebrows raised up nearly to the bandana he had tied around his head. “Wait, you believe me?! Just like that?!”

Dustin put his hands on his hips, in a gesture that was eerily reminiscent of a certain babysitter that Eddie definitely hadn't developed the habit of staring at at every given opportunity. 

Not the time!

“I wouldn’t say, just like that.” Dustin said, snapping his fingers. “If it was anyone outside of the party I would think they were crazy, but this is you we’re talking about. And like I said, after everything? This is not that hard to swallow. I mean, why would you make something like that–”

Dustin stopped abruptly, his entire demeanor changing on a dime as if he’d just discovered something awful. Belatedly, Eddie realized his mistake.

“Eddie, why would you think you were in Hell? Did you… “ The kid trailed off, and when he spoke next his voice was thick with unshed tears. “Do we lose? Did you…die?”

Eddie sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, I didn’t think– I guess there’s no way to tell you I might be repeating time without admitting it. Yeah, I… died. As far as Vecna, I have no idea. I was gone before Steve, Robin, and Nancy got back.”

Before he could respond, the Walkie in Dustin’s hand came to life, with Robin’s voice crackling through the small speaker. “She’s in, move on to phase 3. Over.”

“Guess that’s it. Time’s up.” Eddie muttered.

Dustin bit his lip as he looked at Eddie, eyes questioning and full of fear.

Eddie shook his head, silently answering the unasked question. He didn’t want Dustin to tell them, or try and stop this. It was too late. He refused to risk the kid, or somehow make things worse by changing the plan this late in the game. 

Dustin squeezed his eyes closed and pressed the button on the handset to reply, “Copy that, initiating phase three. Over.”

Eddie gave the kid his best reassuring smile as he pulled the guitar strap up over his head and with shaking hands began to play, knowing there was no time to waste. 

-

Bleeding out wasn’t any more fun the second time around. 

Eddie had given it his all, fighting tooth and nail against those flying leeches, but there was no use. There were hundreds of them, and only one of him. Just as he had the first time he took off on that bike to lead the bats away, he’d known the fate he was resigning himself to. The difference this time was, he actually had a sliver of hope. 

If the impossible happened once, maybe it could happen again. 

“Sorry, kid.” Eddie said, choking back blood as he watched Dustin limp towards him. “Didn’t notice the leg last time–“ He paused, panting, trying to catch his breath. Talking had already become difficult. “Shouldn’t have cut the rope, s’not like it stopped you.” 

He forced a smile, trying so hard not to let it show on his face just how much pain he was in. Not that there was much point, the kid had eyes. He could surely see the red ruin Eddie’s body had become.

Dustin sobbed openly and it broke Eddie’s heart. 

“God damnit, Eddie!” He shouted, shaking his head and pounding the ground with his fist. “Promise me if you get another shot at this that you’ll tell me. Tell me as soon as you possibly can about the time loop. Please! We have to come up with another plan.”

Eddie wanted nothing more than to be able to scoop the boy into his arms and comfort him, might have tried anyway but he couldn't move. “What if you don’t believe me?” He choked out.

“I'm adopted,” Dustin blurted out through his sniffles. “My mom only told me last year. No one else knows, not even Steve, but… I trust you, Eddie. I’d believe you without it, but if you need to, tell me that and I’ll believe you.”

Eddie nodded, or tried to, and felt Dustin’s hand slip into his. 

“I love you, man”

“I love you too”

Chapter 2

Thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Shoutout also to @theheadlessphilosopher @withacapitalp and @hitlikehammers for the help and encouragement to do this.

Tagging a few friends that expressed interest or I think might be interested? I am ALWAYS happy to tag or remove - just let me know!

Taglist: @hitlikehammers @pearynice @cranberrymoons @thoroughlycollected @blubblesandink @finntheehumaneater @brbsoulnomming @estrellami-1 @hellion-child @mentallyundone @manda-panda-monium @spicysix @kikidoesfanfic @dreamwatch

[sialater18]

Just watched Kingdom of the Planet of the apes in IMAX and wow, I LOVED ITTTTT

Highlights for me (spoilers below):

Story bits;

The intro with Caesar’s funeral, just straight to the real sobering stuff. Almost like the movie is saying “Caesar is gone. Now witness what life is like after him and what others do in his name”

The Eagles, they’re just dope animals

When Noa, Anaya, and Soona are out hunting for eggs they make note of not emptying the nest. It’s likely tradition at that point in their village but I like how even though the “bonding” is obviously a significant point in their lives, they don’t let it override what they know is right. Hence why Noa climbs a higher point for another nest.

The sequence of Noa and his dad trying to work together to fight off the Gorilla even though the Gorilla is way out of their league. They both tried hard but were beaten, not just physically but in terms of knowledge. Noa at some point climbs onto a support beam but it’s made of metal and the Gorilla electrocutes the beam he’s on which causes him to fall

The fact that Raka (and Caesar’s more devout followers) call humans they see “Nova” . Little Nova from War of the Planet of the Apes was not completely forgotten in a way :’)

Mae. Especially in the moment in the observatory where she looks through the telescope and gets emotional (which is the first sign that leads Noa to believing she’s more than what she seems). I know some people don’t/won’t like her but I can understand her. She’s in a rough place trying to do what she thinks is good. I believe in her last talk with Noa, on the topic of humans she said something like “It was ours (the planet I think) first!” just instinctually, and when Noa asks about the possibility of apes and humans living side by side again, she says I don’t know.

Proximus’s clan killed the entire group of humans she was with and she only barely managed to escape. And the only indication that he regrets what happened is because he didn’t realize they were “special” humans. He’s regretful of the choice because he was not aware of their possible use to him and his goals. So yeah Mae, doesn’t know, hence why she was at first holding the revolver in her hand when she last spoke to Noa. She initiated them talking, after everything they’ve been through she wanted to say a proper goodbye to him but still held the revolver in case something happened. I honestly want to see more of her

Proximus himself. Whoo I needed more if him, he was such a large joyful figure when we see him, getting his clan all hyped hope and being outwardly positive to them in face of a public failure. The fact that he likes being read Roman history, he probably learned of his namesake. I like his acknowledgment of the “proper” definition of evolution. He knows he won’t reach it since evolution takes a long time & he knows of his own mortality. So he instead wants to evolve in a different way with tools he believe is for him and his people.

He has two humans in his kingdom. He welcomed them both, but he’s not likely to trust them as far as he can throw them. He’s focused on the future apes evolving, hence why he keeps bringing apes into one place for his “Kingdom”. The future he pictures is not one of peace as long as humans are still around. So why not get the numbers of Apes up in the meantime? Even when one of his men is shot, he prioritizes not his dead clan member, but a new existence firearm weapons that can be of use to him

Noa’s first “shit” he learned from Mae and then repeating it later when they almost fall to their deaths and Mae just nodding in approval like “yeah that was the right time to use that word” loll

Mae using her first round with the tiny revolver she had against the ape who had a knife to Soona. I’m betting she planned the opposite of letting the apes know a more advanced form of weaponry exist right there in then in the silo. But her want to not see Soona come to harm (partially because of her) won out against whatever logic she was going with

The Flooding sequence in the silo I couldn’t bring my eyes away from. The one thing about this movie was the tension, maybe I’m just a wimp but I was exceedingly tense for the characters. Even when Proximus was simply speaking at the dinner table he had me tense

The fact that Noa & Mae didn’t have a happy little bow on their relationship by the end of it. I wanted them to be attached to each other or just trust each other but life doesn’t work like that often

The entire last 3 minutes or so the film was just particularly astounding to me, and I’m not sure why. Maybe it was the music (the score for the film is stellar) and the editing but something was just so right about it. Seeing the joy at humans contacting other people. The juxtaposition between Noa & Mae moving on to the next stages of their lives.

Technical stuff:

The sound design was magnificent

The cinematography was beautiful, really interesting shots throughout the film

The vfx was hella impressive

The music score was great and added a lot to the movie

All in all, all I’ve got left to say as Proximus would put it, WHAT A WONDERFUL DAY!!

[adore-laur]

GOLD RUSH: PART TWO

— part one

——

Harry doesn't want to let go. He hasn't been this close to you since what feels like a lifetime ago. After a grueling year of separation, considerate greeting hugs and instinctual touches that respect boundaries can't hold a candle to this moment. 

He can feel your heartbeat. The organ that once beat fiercely for him is now pounding against his own, its unsteady pulse fueling him with love. 

Who is he kidding? He has always loved you. Even when you screamed at him on the other line, poisonous words creeping into every crack of his heart, he still couldn't bear the thought of never having a place in your life again—even if that place wasn't beside you anymore. 

You told him you were proud of him a mere minute ago. It was a simple statement, but also a diminutive glance into your mind. What do you think about when you're pressed against him, aware of his hands on your back and the kisses left on your head? What feelings do they ignite? All Harry wants is to spread you open, lay your cards on the table—both the good and the bad ones—and just talk to you. He only sees you a handful of times a month, so the questions that have been piling in his throat beg to spill out. 

He fears his patchwork heart would also spill out onto the floor, and you'd see how miserably he's been coping. Mentally draining months were spent mending the broken relationship. Yet, the last and largest shard that couldn't piece it together again was the one that was simply the dying relationship itself. 

A year should be enough time to get over someone, but when that someone is his ex-wife and the mother of his beautiful child, he reminds himself that time never stops in moments of hurt. His personal life and career had to chug along even when the train constantly veered off the tracks. 

The regret he feels for not putting his family first kills him inside every time he opens your door to take his daughter for half a week. It's never enough time, and to see you for much less weighs heavily on his soul. The haunting supposition of being unable to notice every tiny detail about you one day is the nail in his coffin. He remembers opening the door a few months ago to find you with shorter hair. It shouldn't have affected him the way it did, and he couldn't help but think that you probably would've asked for his opinion on it if you were still together. 

He also hasn't kissed you or had sex with you in over a year. There have been no romantic dates or nights cuddled in bed, limbs tangled like the wilting vines of your love. He has not held your hand or watched you be a mother except for fleeting moments. He doesn't want those things with anyone else, so why can't you forgive him? Why can't you revive your love for him? 

Harry knows asking for a revival of love is irrational. 

"When do you need to be on stage?" Your voice reaches him, warm like melted honey and gentle like a balm that heals his wounds. 

"It doesn't matter," he says, fixing the twisted strap of your dress. "I can be a little late." 

You step away from the hug, and he feels an ache in his chest due to the loss of physical contact. "No, you can't." 

He tilts his head to the side and smirks. "Says who? It's my show." 

You narrow your eyes dubiously, but they slowly soften when they drift downward and take in his outfit. He'd be lying if he said he didn't plan a revealing outfit just because you were coming. 

"You look handsome."

Handsome. When was the last time you called him that? He can't remember, but the word sends a tidal wave of shivers rolling across his body. 

"Thank you. You look lovely, as always. How've you been?" 

"Fine. Work keeps me busy." Something nearby clatters to the floor, and you nod your head toward the culprit, who has a guilty expression. "Her too." 

"You're not overworking yourself, are you?" Harry asks. God knows he's seen you at your worst because of it. 

"Not as much as you. I still worry about you with all this traveling." 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets while moving closer to you. "Yeah? You worry about me?" 

You nod and look past his shoulder. He misses when you didn't shy under his gaze. "But the videos I see ease my worries. I know you're safe and having fun." 

He clears his throat and asks, "What videos?" 

There's a heavy lull of silence before you say, "Ones of you performing. They pop up on social media all the time. You're pretty famous if you didn't know." 

He ignores your teasing because he's grasping at straws, needing to know if you still keep up with him like he does with you. "And you watch them?" 

"Yeah," you say, nervously touching your earlobe. "It's hard not to with those outfits and how happy you look, you know?" You point to your daughter and add, "She loves to watch them too." 

Harry roughly swallows and curls his hands into fists. Your admission makes the ache in his heart grow tenfold. He never would have guessed. 

Someone suddenly knocks loudly on the dressing room door, making him flinch. "Harry, we need to start heading to the stage! Right now, preferably!" 

With a sigh, he heads over to the connected bathroom to grab his mic pack and in-ears, but not before crouching in front of his daughter. "Hey, Dad has to go," he tells her. "Gonna stay with Mama and watch me?" 

She nods and lifts her arms. He picks her up before setting her on his hip and swaying her. "Do I look okay?" he murmurs. 

"Mm-hmm," she hums, grabbing at the silk material of his vest. 

"Good." He kisses her forehead and then rests his own against hers. "I love you, all right? Dance your heart out for me." 

She impatiently squirms in his arms. He sets her down so she can play with the toys you brought, and then moves to quickly fix his hair in the mirror. He can already tell that tonight is going to be one of his favorite shows, and it has everything to do with the fact that his two favorite people will be in the audience.

After he puts his in-ears in, he shuts the bathroom light off and shakes his arms to get any remaining pre-show jitters out. He looks at you the entire time, watching you glance around his dressing room like it's an art gallery. All of his vulnerable belongings are out in the open and on display—his shirts you used to wear stuffed in his duffel bag, printed pictures of his daughter tucked into the mesh pocket of his suitcase, and a pack of diapers he had delivered earlier today in case you forgot or ran out. 

Most vulnerable, however, is his wedding ring sitting right next to the microphone that you're about to grab for him. It's the same ring he kisses every night before he goes on stage, never having gotten rid of it because it's one of the only things he has left of the love you once had for him. 

You freeze, your hand hovering over the microphone. The color drains from Harry’s face as he stands there, dreading your reaction. 

"Harry..." Your voice is weakened by a certain sadness that could break him if he let it. 

People gather in the room, trying to get him to start heading to the stage, but he's stuck in place. Paralyzed by fear. Everything is a blur around him, and all he can focus on is the shake of your hand when you pick up the damned ring that was cursed from the beginning. You set it in your open palm, then stare at him with a slightly parted mouth and confusion swimming in your eyes. 

Harry then makes a stupid fucking mistake. 

He rushes toward you, grasps your cheeks, and smears his lips over yours with pitiful desperation. His eyebrows pinch painfully, and he lets out a muted sob when you don't return the kiss. Your hands push against his chest, making him stumble back. 

There's no time to apologize since he's immediately being escorted out the door and down the hallway toward the stage. He wants to look back, but he knows the expression on your face will tell him all he needs to know. 

You don't love him anymore. 

——

[wellpresseddaisy]

The Things We'll Never Tell

For prompt 22, Power

Also for @sneverussape , because Draco is a godbrat who doesn't like to share.

“Cissa? Cissa, where are you?” Lucius raced through the family wing, leaving doors swinging on their hinges as he searched for his wife. 

“Draco wanted to show me how well he’s doing with his toy broom, Lucius. Why are you thumping about in that manner?” Narcissa stepped out of the day nursery, shutting the door carefully behind herself. “You’re frightening Draco with all that noise.”

“Life in Azkaban, Cissa. They were sentenced to life.” Their own narrow escape preyed on his mind.

Narcissa froze. “Life?” she asked faintly.

“I know you hoped…” he trailed off at her shaky laugh.

“She wasn’t my Bella any longer. Something changed in her, Lucius, something shattered. Perhaps it makes me a terrible person, but we’re free of them.” Her voice shook.

“Do you think they’re still bound to Draco?” He took her hand in his, both of them trembling.

“I don’t know that they ever were. They said the oath, but I don’t know if it ever took. Draco…well, we know Draco’s opinion on that.” Forcing herself to smile for her child, she opened the day nursery door again and pulled Lucius in behind her.

Draco zoomed about the floor on a toy broom. He stopped so suddenly when he saw them that he tumbled off. Lucius smothered a snicker when Draco smacked the floor and grumbled ‘Rude!’ at it.

“Yes darling, what a very rude floor it is.” Narcissa scooped him up and nuzzled his face. “What an inconvenience to Draco.”

“Invenience, Mama,” Draco parroted.

“Papa came home early just to ask our Draco a question!” Perhaps if she sounded like it was exciting?

“Ask Draco?”

“A very important question, little man.” Lucius reached for his son and Draco went to him happily.

How very different from his own toddlerhood, kept away from the adults with nannies and nursemaids until he left school.

“Now, does Draco know who his godparents are?” Lucius asked.

“Un’le Severus,” Draco answered decidedly.

“Can you feel a bond with him, darling, or anyone else?” Narcissa joined Lucius in cuddling their boy.

Draco frowned. They knew he vaguely understood magical bonds, as much as a small child could. He felt them and could name them, but beyond that…they’d have to wait until he was more verbal.

“Un’le Severus mine,” Draco said after a moment. “Not there.” He turned sad gray eyes up to his parents, patting his chest with one little hand.

“We can call Uncle Severus over, I’m sure, and make it so he is there,” Lucius offered.

“Mine,” Draco grizzled. “Want mine.”

A soft, silvery glow enveloped him. Lucius nearly dropped the child. Only Narcissa’s hold on both of them kept the toddler from tumbling to the floor.

“Cissa?” Lucius hissed.

“Hush!” she hissed back. “Wait.”

Lucius didn’t think waiting an appropriate plan of action when one’s toddler began to glow. Was this the moment when he regretted marrying this member of House Black, as his father said he would? But he trusted her, so he waited.

After a moment, Draco opened his eyes and smiled sunnily at his parents. “Un’le Severus mine!”

The glow faded slowly. Lucius and Narcissa stared at each other over Draco’s head.

“He’s your godfather now?” Narcissa asked, far more calmly than Lucius thought she ought to be. “Well done, darling boy.”

“Yes. Mine.” Draco wiggled. “Down, papa, please.”

Lucius set him down, saying “Such lovely manners, Draco” automatically.

“I think we can expect Hurricane Severus to come whirling through in a moment.” Narcissa spoke archly.

“Our son just…you saw…what…” Lucius trailed off and stared at his wife.

“It was his first accidental magic.” She sounded smug.

“Accidental? Narcissa, our son just bound his own godfather. That was no accident.” He tried to sound pleasant so Draco wouldn’t know his father was in a froth.

“Well, instinctual, then, if you’re going to be pedantic, dear.”

From far below, they heard a door slam (the front one, judging by the depth of the boom) and the sounds of a rapid and possibly panicked ascent of the stairs. Narcissa turned to the door.

“We can never, never disclose Draco’s first magic.”

Narcissa glanced at him. “Of course we’ll tell everyone he summoned a teddy or some such thing. A triviality. People like those. They find them cute.” She wrinkled her nose at the word.

The door slamming open to admit a harried-looking Severus interrupted Lucous’ reply.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Severus demanded.

“Bloody!” Draco chirped from his broomstick and zoomed gently around their legs.

“Nanny is going to be so cross with you, Severus.” Narcissa remarked mildly.

“What are you doing here?” Severus demanded again, yanking up his left sleeve. “Who did this?”

Lucius and Narcissa stared at the unblemished skin that once held a Dark Mark. Lucius grabbed for Narcissa’s hand.

“Well…” Lucius began, his voice choked.

“Mine.” Draco hovered on his broom ansD leaned into Severus’ legs. “My Un’le Severus.”

“Oh…oh dear.” Narcissa swallowed hard. “This may take some explaining.”

[liam-neesons-best-girl]

Losing Power {Bryan Mills (Taken) x Reader}

approx. 700 words

Summary: You and Bryan had planned a date-night-in but the weather alters your evening.

Warnings: F! reader, drabble, fluff

You finally arrived at the entrance to Bryan’s apartment building soaked in the relentless rain that had been coming down for a solid 12 hours. As he fumbled with the keys you had in one bag, half a dozen movies to watch from the rental shop and in the other, the ingredients to make the best lasagna Bryan has ever tasted.

However, mother nature had plans of her own that evening. Instinctually Bryan reached over to the light switch to illuminate the kitchen, but to no avail. It was pitch black darkness. He muttered a couple of swears and vigorously flipped the switch a couple of times to confirm what he wanted least. You have no power. 

“What’s wrong, Bry,” you asked, oblivious to the situation. You were so focused on planning your little ‘date night in’ that the delayed turning on of lights didn’t faze you. 

“Here, let me take those, Love,” he said gesturing to the bags at your side to place them on the counter. “It looks like we’ve lost power because of the storm,” he said slowly and a bit nervous of your reaction, since he knew you were looking forward to this date.

“Well we better get into some dry clothes and layer up then,” you said in all seriousness. You are a natural adaptor, Bryan thought. So ready for whatever the world throws at you. At the both of you, together.

He leads you down the dark hallway until you reach his bedroom. There you both strip down to your underwear and find some dry, comfortable clothes. There is the vague suggestion of light coming through the bedroom windows, allowing you to see the items in his drawers.

“Uhhh, I don’t really have anything in your size, sweetheart. Are these alright?” he asked, holding up a pair of sweatpants. You take them from him and have to roll the waistband a couple of times before you wouldn’t trip on the pant leg.

“Perfect,” you cheer. You also reach for a long sleeve thermal running shirt of his as well as wool socks. You give him a peck on the cheek as ‘payment’ for the clothes and set off to collect the necessary blankets to create a sleeping haven of warmth in the living room. 

As you arrange the blankets and pillows to create the most inviting ambience, out comes Bryan from the hall, only heard by his thunderous footsteps. You plug in the battery pack to the lamp and are greeted with a marvelous sight: Bryan in very loose gray sweatpants and a large cable knit sweater. This isn’t such a bad night after all.

He nestled into the cozy set up you prepared on the reclining chair and opened his arms wide for you. “C’mere, Love,” is all you needed to hear before practically jumping into his lap and settling in the crook of his neck.

You both giggle as he tightens his hold around your body, not letting an inch of skin be exposed to the cold air. As the giggle subside you hear Bryan let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry our plans got ruined," Bryan murmured, his voice laced with regret. "I know how much you were looking forward to tonight."

You tilted your head up to look into his eyes, seeing a sincere look on his face. “It’s okay,” you said while tracing shapes on his chest. “I’m just glad to be with you, no matter what it is we are doing.”

Bryan pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. 

After a beat of silence he let his intrusive thoughts win. "I hate the thought of you being alone in the dark like this," he admitted, his voice soft but resolute.

“Hush, hush, big bear,” you said, cuddling impossibly closer. “I'm not alone tonight. I have my handsome man to protect me," you said locking your hands around his neck.

Bryan felt proud in that moment, happy that his girl was happy. He leaned down to have your heads rest on each other.

By morning there would be power, he thought, and you could resume your date night just as it was planned.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

3, 9, 10, and 49 for Grima?

Two Grima anons!! Because you all are amazing and know me and the way to my heart

3. Obscure headcanon

Honestly, I feel like I've talked enough about Grima that all my headcanons have been exhausted in the "Grima Thoughts" tag and the "Grima Wormtongue" tag more broadly on my tumblr.

I suppose one that I've never voice too much, and haven't played with (YET. GET READY.**) is that I headcanon him as distinctly Not Cis but he's very convoluted and vague about what that means. The whole seidr aspect I read onto him adds different layers to how you can interpret that, especially given some views that seidr-working might have been viewed as an alternative gender, or an additional aspect to gender, or something in that ballpark of being different from man and woman.

I just enjoy that, aside from Eowyn, he is one of the characters you can make the strongest argument for being Outside the Gender Norms of Their Respective Society. This makes me very pleased and happy.

Grima just wants to be queen. Let him be one!!

--

**this only applies to people reading What Makes a King

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character

For the movies it was the tear-drop scene in TTT after Saruman sends the uruk-hai off to Helms Deep. So much regret and realization of the scope of the impact of his actions captured in a single emotional moment. And it's fleeting! But so well done. No words are needed. Just dawning horror and that stomach-dropping-out-from-your-body feeling of What The Fuck Have I Done - This Was Not How It Was Supposed To Go.

In the books it's 100% when Grima is sassing back at Treebeard. He is Peak Drowned Rat and a GIANT TREE is telling him: You need to go to Orthanc. It's voer there.

And Grima. Who has been on a horse for two days straight, riding through the night, and probbaly hasn't eaten in 48h, and is now stinking soaking wet becuase Treebeard dropped him in the muck and mire of the waters around Orthanc. That man. That man looks at the Giant Tree, the stuff of childhood legends in Rohan, and his instinctual reaction is to be the sassiest most lie-filled bitch on the planet.

What the fuck Grima.

Grima: Well, since you don't think I was here on behalf of Theoden which was My Quickly Thought Up Plan Because I DID NOT Expect This. I will now just be super sassy at you as my fall back. Seems reasonable.

Tree Beard: ????

Love that deranged bastard so much.

Grima: [sees a being way, way more powerful than him. Gandalf, Treebeard, whatever] What if I just said some sick burns and was a petty bitch for fifteen minutes??

Eomer: . .... ..,, , as a treat?

Grima: As a treat!!

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)

I loved his seduction scene in the film. That whole speech is masterfully rendered by Brad Dourif and Miranda Otto is also fantastic in that scene. Seeing her tempted, truly tempted, then pulling back like: nope, nope, nope, I can't. Grima's face when she leaves. Absolutely phenomenal.

I also love the "These Men Don't Know What Personal Space Is" scene with Eomer.

Nothing to see here. Move along everyone.

In the book, the best scene is everything in the Scouring of Shire. The wanting to take Frodo's offer of a helping hand. The desperation for that salvation from himself and the situation he is in - yet, he is so trapped in whatever it is he feels for Saruman. That quasi-enslaved state by the time we get to the end of ROTK. It's so fucked up and such a fantastic representation of the push/pull of abusive situations. I want out/I can't leave/I can see a future/I can't see a future. So well done.

(And I think Saruman-Grima dynamic is something Tolkien didn't know he had - at least in terms of the potential that is in it.)

While I have gone on before about Grima's death being a let-down in terms of thematic satisfaction, I do love, love, love that he gets to kill Saruman. He gets to put the knife in Saruman's back. That is so fantastic as a full circle of all the traitors betraying each other. ALSO, of course, Grima gets to kill the man who has spent the last eleven months torturing him for shits and giggles. We love to see it.

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

I think Grima is very afraid to look at a lot of things about himself. He cannot look into the mirror straight-on. All truths about himself have to be captured in peripheral vision - which is to say, only ever faintly brushed against.

I don't know what the darkest secret is that he can't admit to himself. I suspect, for him, it's several. He's done so much harm in his life, and he's been also denied so much too, and wants so much, and has broken so much - it's all a tangled mess.

I think for Grima, what drives a lot of his actions post-Helm's Deep is a two-fold sunk-cost fallacy (that's the thing he can't admit to himself - it's not all lost. He can and should walk away. "If it's shit, hit the bricks" was not something he ever learned) and the inability to be able to see a life outside of Saruman. A path away from Orthanc. (Granted, no one was being helpful in that regard until Frodo. Literally no one. Not in any meaningful capacity.)

24. Most annoying habit

Maybe stop stealing things from people?

Probably, though, the sycophancy. The whole "oh my lord" this and "a wise/brilliant thing you said my lord" that. Ugh. Miss me with the verbal dick-sucking there, Grima.

I get why he does it. I 100% understand. I still find it grating. This is something, I will say, that turns up in fanfics more than canon. I've written it, myself, because it works for his character! It's what he would do! It makes sense post-Saruman that he would be like this! If he wasn't it would be weird! But my god Grima, get a spine and a sense of self-worth!

(Grima: shall not.)

For proper canon things, we don't really see enough of him to have specific habits to pick on. Because frankly, I find his thieving delightful and funny, if not a little whimsical. In fact, he should do more. Steal more things! Steal more things!

(Grima: Shall!!! Right now!!)

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh

Scathing commentary on people he hates. This man is a gossip and a first-class professional Bitcher. He can bitch with the best of them. Hearing dirty things about people makes him so happy.

Also, I think he likes word play and clever jokes. Riddling games and the like, especially ones that are terribly, terribly clever are near-guaranteed to make him smile.

I don't know that he laughs all that much. I think he does that snort/exhale as a form of "laughing" but I don't think he does full on laughing. Save very rarely, and I think it's a shockingly warm sound for someone who is a walking glacier in many respects.

49. Favorite toy as a child

Oh gods. This is hands down the toughest question. If only becuase I have only ever envisioned Grima's childhood as fairly toyless. But he would have had toys - even in the bleakest versions he would have had toys.

I can see little Grima, as a four/five/six year old, being partial to a small, carved cow. He likes the gentle eyes and is familiar with cattle and they smell like home. I can see him also having a small wagon as a boy and he would go out to a small copse and pretend to be a runaway who has joined up with a band of robbers or highway men. In the wagon he'd pack food and water and such, also his bow and a small knife.

Practicing a quick get-away since he was eight.

----

Thank you both so much! <3 <3 <3 This got long but 0 regrets. Grima deserves it.

[renmedys]

NAMELESS SOLDIERS

erwin smith is a man of many regrets. levi ackerman is a man of none, or so he says. (or: in one last ditch effort, erwin remembers the many moments he and levi spoke of regrets.)

pairing: erwin smith/levi ackerman warnings: aot spoilers, mentions of death words: 3.2k

     “DO you ever regret coming to the surface?” Erwin asked quietly, eyes mindlessly skimming over lines and lines of fine print. The newspaper rustled with each turning page, article after article written about the same thing—the foolishness of the survey corps, the countless lives that were sacrificed in vain, and the common sentiment of overall absurdity of venturing outside the walls.

“Is that a joke?” his subordinate replied with a scoff. “There isn’t time for regrets in the business we’re in, Erwin. You know that.”

Levi sat across from him in the horse-drawn carriage on their way to the capital. Eren Jaeger’s trial demanded all high-ranking officers in court, and silence now took up all the space between them as the carriage rattled along. Levi Ackerman was always a cold, inexpressive person, so asking him about things like regrets and morals hardly ever yielded profit. Yet Erwin still liked to ask him, and frequently, too. Perhaps it was because Levi is always so comparatively silent to Erwin’s perpetually chattering mouth. So many topics of discussion in this world, Erwin thought, but to Levi, if they had no relation to their jobs in the Scout Regiment (and many of them didn’t), he didn’t care for it. That’s more likely the reason Erwin likes to prod him with questions—his own amusement. Sometimes he likes to guess in his head what Levi will say to shut his questions down.

“I mean it,” Erwin said, eyes still glued to the papers. “Don’t you have any regrets, Levi?”

“No.”

Erwin looked up for a brief moment to see Levi gazing out the window through a gap in the curtains. His eyes were cloudy, glossed over in thought. That was how Erwin knew that Levi Ackerman was lying. It’s impossible not to have regrets in their line of work, Erwin thought, especially in a job riddled with death.

And Ackerman’s collection of the Survey Corp insignias that once belonged to his fallen comrades only confirmed his suspicions. (Unbeknownst to Levi, Erwin has seen the collection many times.)

“Well,” Erwin sighed, “I do.”

—

     EREN Jaeger was only fifteen when he was told that in him was a power his people couldn’t trust, subjected to scrutinizing and fearful gazes, chained in the middle of a room for witnesses to gawk at. A pitiful display, Erwin thought, to be muzzled like a dog and belittled like a child.

“I feel bad for him,” Erwin whispered, though he didn’t let it show on his face.

“Is that a joke?” Levi asked again, face contorted into what seemed to be disgust. “He might be a titan, for all we know.”

“You saw his eyes, Levi. Do they look like the eyes of a titan?”

“Maybe a cannibalistic one.”

Erwin stifled a laugh. Then, “He’s just a kid.”

Levi scoffed once more. “We were just kids,” he said. The conversation ended there, with the heavy truth hanging above their heads.

The trial proceeded as planned. Eren pleaded his case, stood his ground with protests and declarations until Levi went down there and kicked him across the face hard enough that a tooth fell out. The cowards in the MP section all cringed, wincing with second-hand pain and the instinctual fear when faced with violence, but those in the Survey Corps watched without batting an eye. Erwin noticed that the girl brought in as a witness had to look away, the blood boy beside her having a hand on her shoulder.

Afterwards, he remembered seeing her eyes shift into hatred whenever she saw Levi. He had never seen someone so angry on someone else’s behalf.

—

         LIBRARY hours went from eight in the morning to nine in the evening. Erwin had gone to read about coal mines and the resources that were lost by the breaching of Wall Maria. He checked out a few books, and headed back to his office. There, Levi Ackerman awaited him.

“There you are,” he said, sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed. “Hange told me you were at the library.”

Erwin nodded. “Did you need something?”

Levi opened his mouth to speak, but he paused before any sound escaped. He pressed his lips back together, shaking his head. “On second thought,” he said, “never mind. I have to get back.”

Erwin watched in subtle confusion as Levi left. A mystery, that man, and Erwin was sure that he’d never fully understand him. He wanted to, though—he wondered what it felt like to be the strongest soldier, to shoulder the hopes of all humanity, both those who did not acknowledge them and those who died alongside them.

Could a man like him really not have any regrets, Erwin wondered.

—

    ERWIN had often been asked the question, “was it worth it?” in regards to the lives lost after each mission. The first mission executed with the addition of Eren Jaeger to the ranks had ended in failure, and again he was faced with these dreadful words. Erwin remembered little of the ride back, but he remembered hearing a man said to be Petra Ral’s father talking nervously, voice shaking and rambling away to Levi. There had been nothing to do but hold one’s head high and continue walking, no matter how hard it may have been. And that was exactly what they did, even if met with the scorn of the public.

To hang your head in shame meant to admit defeat, and that was the one thing the Survey Corps did not do.

Erwin typically had hopeful enough of a constitution to not be bogged down by the weight of what was lost. But today, as he took a seat in his office, clothes still stained with dried blood, he slammed a fist on his desk. Burying his face in his hands, he yelled profanity, wondering for the first time he became commander if it was truly worth it.

Levi got injured, Eren almost kidnapped, and now the Military Police were demanding custody of the boy. Levi’s entire squad died—some of the best soldiers the Survey Corps ever had. Without them, their forces had diminished only slightly in number but significantly in experience and strength. In what world was that mission ever worth it?

“You can’t fall apart.”

A voice from the doorway interrupted him.

“If you fall apart,” he continued, “it’s the end for the Survey Corps.”

The commander sighed. “You’re right.”

He didn’t need to look up to see who it was. Albeit limping, Levi Ackerman would be standing the way he always did, confident in stature with a frown on his face, eyes cold—but for once, Erwin was wrong. Levi was leaning against the doorframe, eyes downcast, face grim.

“You alright, Levi?” Erwin found himself asking before he could stop himself. He braced himself for a snappy remark.

“I just lost my whole squad,” Levi said, and his voice was softer than Erwin thought it’d be. “For a stupid fucking brat. What do you think?”

Erwin smiled sadly. “They’re all dead, huh,” he murmured. “We’ll have to notify their families, and hold a service for each of them. I wish the mission had—”

“No,” Levi interrupted. “No looking back, Erwin. I don’t have time for regrets.”

Leave it to Levi to set Erwin’s priorities straight. 

“Sorry. You’re right.”

—

    IT was the night before the Shiganshina retake mission, and it was then that Levi had the sole conversation with Erwin where he did all the talking. Typically, the captain and his chatterbox personality dominated what was said. But tonight, Levi had sat down with him in his office, a solemn look on his already-solemn looking face, telling Erwin that whatever he was going to say wasn’t something he wanted to hear.

No commander wishes his people to die. Levi knew that. After all, what kind of fool willingly burdens oneself with more blood on his hands?

Even so, Levi had his hands clasped, fingers clawing at his knuckles as he brooded in silence. He was leaned over, weight on his elbows as they dug into his thighs. Head hung, eyes dark.

“Erwin,” he said, and his voice shook.

“Can’t sleep?” Erwin asked, setting aside a stack of paperwork. “That’s unlike you.”

Another scoff, as Levi mumbled a small “yeah.”

“Something on your mind?”

“I have a bad feeling about tomorrow,” Levi said, glancing at his superior. “Gut feeling. One of us is going to die.”

Erwin’s stomach dropped. Not long ago, he had narrowly escaped death himself, having lost only an arm. “Then I suppose that it will be me,” he said, trying a smile to lighten the mood. “Karma, I’d say,” he joked.

“Erwin.”

Erwin never wanted to hear his name come out of Levi’s mouth the way it did. Never out of helplessness, never out of fear, never out of defeat. And yet, in a voice unfit for Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, Levi had said his name. Weakly, softly, almost pleading, if he dared ot say.

“If it comes to it,” Levi began. Erwin wanted him to stop. “And if you order it—” Erwin wanted to stop listening. “—I’ll die quietly.”

“Levi.” Erwin said his name quietly, wanting to command him to stop. He can’t do this without him.

“Don’t be afraid to send me to my death, Erwin,” Levi said, and Erwin could tell from the look in his eyes that he was serious. “That’s what soldiers are for.”

—

    THE morning of the mission, Erwin found himself without rest. He’d slept as best he could after Levi left, though admittedly it was nothing more than a few hours. The horses were being assembled, the troops gearing up, and Erwin sat on a cargo box outside the stables, his head aching after the night before.

Levi approached him, sliding a blade into its slot. Adjusting his cloak, he stood before Erwin, looking down at him. “Don’t forget what I said,” he said. “I meant it.”

“Even so,” Erwin protested, “I can’t go sending our best soldier to his death just like that, can I?”

His joking tone didn’t seem to land. “Humanity needs you more than me,” Levi said. “Do it if it comes to it.”

“Would you sacrifice yourself? Without my orders?”

“Huh?” Levi scowled. “Who would do that, dumbass?”

“I see.” Erwin laughed. “Only on my orders, huh.”

“Don’t think about it too much,” his subordinate said, heeding the call of one of his men and beginning to walk away. You don’t have time for regrets, Erwin. You’re the one who’s going to save humanity.”

As he turned his back, the wings of freedom that symbolized everything the Scout Regiment stood for fluttered upon his cloak. Erwin couldn’t help but laugh. What kind of commander was he if his underling was more prepared for what was to come than him?

—

    THE basement. The basement. The basement.

Everything was so close. The truth. His dreams. His father. The basement. Finally, Erwin would learn whether he was right or not. Whether his father died because he knew too much or because the military simply didn’t like curious fools. Erwin’s meaning in life was going to be fulfilled. He’d finally know. That itch he could read would finally be scratched, and he’d be able to die in peace.

Maybe he’d finally have time to charm a woman and take her to bed. Or read those books he’d been buying but ended up collecting dust. Or go to sleep at a decent time. Or—

“Oi, Erwin! What are we going to do?!”

Man, what an idiot, Erwin thought, thinking about the future at a time like this. Thinking about all the things he wouldn’t get to do that he wanted to, all the people he made promises with that he could no longer keep, all on the battlefield while titans were rampaging.

Levi’s face had an expression Erwin’s seen many times. Desperation, some may call it, but on Levi’s face Erwin would say it was more out of stubbornness and the refusal of death than desperation. He remembered what Levi had said the night before. One of us is going to die. Don’t be afraid to send me to my death.

Oh, man. And the basement was right there. 

“Erwin… If you tell me there’s no way left for us to fight back,” Levi said, “I’ll start preparing for defeat. Eren’s sprawled out there, right? Go wake him up. You and some others get on him and run. Then we’ll at least have a few survivors.”

It was true. A hopeless situation was unfolding right before their eyes, with the Colossal and Armored Titans rampaging and making Eren’s titan pale laughably in comparison. The boy had been thrown to the top of Wall Maria, rocks were falling like rain from outside the town, and the puny humans of the Survey Corps were going to die. Not to mention Hange had bit the dust, too.

“The recruits and survivors from Hange’s squad can scatter on horses all at once and try to head home,” Levi continued. “With them acting as bait, you and the others on Eren will be able to escape.”

“And what are you going to do, Levi?” Erwin asked. 

“I’ll deal with that beast. I’ll lead him away.”

“No,” Erwin said immediately. “You can’t even get close to him.”

“Isn’t that the situation we’re in? It’s a major defeat. Honestly,” Levi said, looking down at his hand, “I’m not expecting anyone to make it home alive at this point.”

“True,” Erwin replied, eyes downcast, “if we didn’t have any way of fighting back.”

It took a moment for Levi to realize what Erwin was suggesting. “Do you have one?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why didn’t you put that ugly mouth of yours to work earlier and say something?”

Another round of rocks were flung. All the bits and pieces collided with the roofs of the empty homes, mini explosions erupting across the district. Smoke bellowed, filling the air with dust and debris. The scenery was being destroyed. The situation was only worsening.

“If this plan works, you may be able to defeat that beast,” Erwin said. “But only if we sacrifice the lives of all the recruits here, as well as mine. But I doubt these young-recruits would charge forward unless I was leading the way. I’d have to be the very first to die.”

Fuck.

“Without ever learning… what was in that basement.”

The basement. That stupid, damned, fucking basement.

“I just,” Erwin sighed, slumping against a wall. “I just want to go to that basement.”

What did Erwin live for all this time? To lead humanity beyond the walls? To save humanity and become a hero? Fuck no. Erwin Smith was a selfish bastard who cared for nothing but checking his answers, driven by a desire to know the truth about the dream he shared with his father. And those answers—the answers to every question he’s ever had, the questions that kept him up at night, the unanswered questions that haunted his father’s death—they were in that basement.

“But Levi… can you see them? Our comrades? They’re watching to see what they died for. Is it all nothing more than… my own childish delusion?”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed as he knelt down before his commander. “You’ve fought a good fight. We’ve only come this far thanks to you. I’m making the choice,” he said, nearly choking on his words. They were gnarled in his throat, but he managed to speak without a semblance of hesitation. “Give up on your dreams and die for us.”

Erwin’s eyes widened slightly.

“Lead the recruits straight into hell,” Levi continued, “and I’ll take down the Beast Titan.”

Erwin could only smile. Sadly. 

—

    THEIR last conversation was one that Erwin hoped he could keep with him even after dying.

“I tried to live without regrets,” Erwin muttered, readying himself for what would have to be the most convincing speech of his life. “I really did.”

“Any yet…?” Levi asked, prodding him on. It was the first time he ever encouraged Erwin to speak.

“I still have them. I still have so many of them, Levi.”

Levi held his silence, gazing down at the grass beneath their feet. It continued to sway in the wind, green and prosperous despite the patches next to it being trampled flat, despite the world around it crumbling to pieces. Humans are a lot like grass, Erwin thought. 

“But I think my biggest one,” he sighed, “would be not being able to see what’s in that basement.”

Levi scoffed. It was something he often did when Erwin said stupid things. It was a sound Erwin was beginning to enjoy hearing. “Out of everything, it’s not the hundreds of lives you’ve sacrificed to make it here?”

The commander laughed. “I suppose not. That’s cruel of me, isn’t it.” 

“Yeah. It is.”

“Sorry,” Erwin said, standing up. “We have no time for regrets, right?”

He seemed taken aback by his words. A brief silence. Then, “Yeah,” Levi agreed, “We have no time for regrets.”

There was a rock the size of a building flying at Erwin. In the next second—no, half of a second—he’d be dead. Yet in that second was thirty something years of his life, from his father to his grave, from the day he became commander to the day he’d die.

There’s became I, then I became you, and finally, you became we. 

We have no time for regrets, right?

Erwin laughed. Not dying with a smile on his face wasn’t something he wanted to add to his list of regrets, after all.

Don’t be afraid to send me to my death. One of us is going to die.

It turned out to be him, just like he suspected. At least he was right about something. And in the end, it was Levi who sent him to his death.  Another thing to laugh about over drinks if he could just make it home—

Erwin fell off his horse before he realized it. There was a hole in his side. There was no way he was going home alive, now. He screamed. He yelled at the troops to march forward, but he couldn’t tell if they heard him or not. Everything was mute, the world around him deafened and soundless. His eyes closed.

No time for regrets? At least on my deathbed, let me dwell on them a bit, Levi.

People say that when you’re about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. They say that you’ll arrive at answers to questions you’ve been asking all your life, you’ll make life changing realizations, and that your past mistakes and regrets will tear you apart until you’re gone from this world for good. They say that there’s a strange sense of peace when it comes to dying.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since his eyes closed. But for Erwin Smith, as his consciousness was fading once and for all, all three came in the form of one answer. His biggest regret wasn’t that he wouldn’t get to see what was in the basement.

It was that he wouldn’t get to see the rest of the world with Levi Ackerman by his side.

[michaelmilligan]

Midam Appreciation Week Day Two: Bossa Nova

“Adam... Mulligan?” Michael asked, sounding bored.

“Milligan, Sir,” Zachariah corrected him, and his wings shifted uneasily when some of the archangel's eyes moved towards him and narrowed.

It was never good to be noticed in this line of work. Oh, sure, Zachariah had been employee of the month since The Big Bossman had bothered to think him up, but contrary to common belief, you didn't actually need to be noticed to be declared the best.

At least you didn't need to be noticed by the no. 1 head honcho in the place. Usually, it served Zachariah well that Raphael deemed his work 'adequate' and had no complaints.

But St. Michael the archangel, Heaven's mightiest general, didn't do 'adequate'. If you wanted to work directly with him, you had to be like Raphael. Efficient. Effective.

Perfect.

Zachariah hadn't wanted to work with him, but he hadn't been given a choice. So now here he was, reporting on his latest failure in the quest of getting Dean Winchester to say yes, and trying to cover it up by suggesting a new plan.

“He's the Winchester's brother. We only found out recently, after the Righteous Man was retrieved from Hell,” Zachariah explained, Michael's gaze burning like Holy Fire through his being.

“A third brother,” Michael summarised, still not sounding entirely interested. “What use is he to us?”

“Well, you see,” Zachariah said, giving something like a smile – perhaps he had been on Earth for too long, since angels didn't smile, considering they had no mouths. “Dean is a big brother first and a human second. If we present him with his little brother in danger, he will cave to our demands.”

“Hm,” Michael said.

“It's fool-proof,” Zachariah reassured him.

“Just like your last plan, and the one before that.”

“Ah. You see, it is all a game of patience, if we only try long enough, eventually-”

“My patience ends here,” Michael bellowed, and pulled himself to his full height, his archangelic True Form towering over Zachariah. “I do not like this new plan. Try something else.”

“Of course, Sir.” Zachariah righted himself out of his instinctual cowering, and turned to leave.

“And Zachariah?” Michael said, making him stop in his tracks and peer back at him. “Don't disappoint me again.”

When the humans around Zachariah had their eyes burned out and their brains fried, he stood up.

“Go ahead! Get it over with. I'm ready,” he yelled, expecting the divine wrath of Heaven to rain down on him every moment.

The True Voice which rang across the bar was made of molten steel.

ZACHARIAH. THERE IS NO TIME FOR HUMAN INDULGENCES. YOU HAVE WORK TO DO.

“Wait,” Zachariah said. “What?”

DON'T YOU WANT TO RETURN TO YOUR POST? WE HAVE CONSIDERED YOUR LAST PROPOSAL AND HAVE DECIDED TO IMPLEMENT IT, THOUGH WITH SOME... TWEAKS, Michael's voice rang, shattering more and more of the bottles on the shelves.

“Yes! Anything, of course, just put me back in, you won't regret it!”

WE WILL SEE ABOUT THAT. THIS TIME, IT IS REALLY YOUR LAST CHANCE.

“Thank you. Thank you!”

YES, YES. I AM VERY MERCIFUL, AS OUR FATHER WAS MERCIFUL WHEN HE ABSOLVED HUMANITY OF ITS SINS. NOW. RAPHAEL- WE DECIDED TO GIVE THE BOY SOME MOTIVATION.

“The boy, Sir?” Weren't they already giving Dean enough motivation by threatening his brother?

ADAM MULLIGAN.

“Milligan, Sir.”

YES. HIM.

The boy was motivated, alright.

A good Midwestern Christian boy, Zachariah judged from the cheerful, gullible expression on Adam's face as he talked about becoming Michael's vessel. Zachariah enjoyed making his face fall, though the resulting puppy eyes were a little much in his opinion.

It felt even better when the plan worked, Dean Winchester appearing to swoop in and save his brother-in-distress.

Yes, the plan worked – right up until Dean stabbed an angel blade through Zachariah's chest.

The plan had worked, Michael thought as he rushed down to Earth. Finally! Dean was to be his vessel.

DEAN WINCHESTER, he intoned as he descended on the room, wings spread imposingly. AS IT WAS PROPHESIED, SO IT WILL BE. YOU ARE FULFULLING YOUR DESTINY AND YOUR DUTY BY BECOMING MY VESSEL.

“Um,” the only human in the room made.

Michael peered down at him more closely.

YOU ARE NOT DEAN WINCHESTER, he said.

“No.”

YOU ARE ADAM... Michael spotted the corpse which Zachariah had left behind, wings burned into the ground around him. … MILLIGAN?

“Yeah, that's me,” Adam said, and turned his startled and awed expression into a weak smile. “And I'm guessing you're Michael, the archangel?”

YES.

“Right.”

They regarded each other for a long moment, the boy apprehensively and Michael thoughtfully.

DEAN WOULDN'T HAPPEN TO BE AROUND HERE SOMEWHERE?

“No, sorry, he just left before you came.”

AH.

“Yeah.” Adam shifted on his feet. “Um, so what are you gonna do now? I mean, about me, but also... about Dean?”

THAT IS NOT YOUR CONCERN.

“So you don't have a plan,” Adam said, raising an eyebrow.

THAT IS NOT WHAT I SAID.

“Sure, but it was implied.”

IT WAS CERTAINLY NOT.

Adam shifted on his feet again, and licked his lips before looking back up at Michael. With a start, Michael realised that he was looking upon his True Form without having his eyes burned out or his mind turned to mush.

“You guys have already tried pretty much everything to get Dean, anyway, right? I mean, if you had to resort to reviving me...” Adam shrugged. “That sounds pretty damn desperate.”

HEAVEN IS NOT DESPERATE, Michael corrected him. HEAVEN FOLLOWS GOD'S PLAN, WHICH IS OF COURSE ALWAYS THE RIGHT ONE. THIS IS MERELY A DELAY.

“U-huh,” Adam made. “And how many of those delays have there been?”

Michael narrowed his eyes at the human, but he barely flinched. Curious. That always worked with the lesser angels.

I DO NOT NEED TO CONCERN MYSELF WITH YOU, Michael said.

“Hey- wait!”

Against his better judgement, Michael waited.

There were more plans to come up with. An apocalypse to prepare. But at that moment, Michael had no great desire to return to the metaphorical drawing board.

Dean Winchester had once again thwarted his plans, and Michael was getting tired of it.

“Is it really going to happen? The apocalypse?” Adam asked, sounding concerned.

OF COURSE. MY BROTHER WILL ACQUIRE SAM WINCHESTER AS A VESSEL – OF THAT I HAVE NO DOUBT. Lucifer had always been the more convincing, more charming one. Where Michael was brute force, Lucifer was sly seduction. IF HE WALKS EARTH IN HIS TRUE VESSEL, HE WILL WREAK HAVOC. HE HAS TO BE STOPPED.

“Can't you take a different vessel? Use... Larry from Radio Shack, or something?”

NO. MY VESSEL HAS TO BE OF THE WINCHESTER BLOODLINE. ONLY THE ELDEST SON, WHO HAS STUDIOUSLY OBEYED HIS PARENT'S WORD, CAN BE MY TRUE VESSEL.

This time, it was Adam who narrowed his eyes at him.

“I'm my mom's oldest son,” he said. “And I always did what she said.”

Michael hesitated. WHAT?

“I'm just saying, Dean's not gonna say yes any time soon, and you still need a vessel, right? Now I can't say I'm very happy to say this, since your goon tricked and tortured me and all that, but like, I get it. This is the apocalypse we're talking about. The literal end of the world. Desperate times, desperate measures, and all that.”

Michael regarded the human more carefully. He was wearing a determined expression, and what he had said did make some kind of sense.

WE DO NOT EVEN KNOW WHETHER YOU CAN BE MY VESSEL, Michael cautioned. MUCH LESS MY TRUE VESSEL.

“So what happens if we try and I can't? I mean, I figure I'm gonna die, but then what. Do I just go back to Heaven?”

Michael's wings rustled thoughtfully. YES, I SUPPOSE.

The boy might of course fall into madness or have his soul snuffed out under the weight of Michael's grace, but Michael elected to omit those finer details.

“Okay, then we just try it. I'm not supposed to be alive anyway, right? And with my mom dead, it's not like I've got anyone waiting for me or whatever.” Adam raised his chin. “So do it. Possess me.”

ALRIGHT, Michael said after a moment. ADAM MILLIGAN, WILL YOU LEND ME YOUR BODY AND YOUR-

“Woah, wait. I already told you to do it.”

YES, BUT THERE IS A PROCEDURE TO THINGS, Michael said, not exactly pleased about being interrupted. AND BESIDES, YOU NEED TO SAY 'YES'.

“Oh, okay. Then yes.”

Michael let out something that might have been a sigh in a human. Then he resigned himself to not getting to give a big speech, and possessed the boy.

It was a tight squeeze within a human, but not so bad as Michael remembered. Mostly, he supposed, because there was a lot less screaming from the soul than the last time he had taken a vessel.

When Michael was almost fully settled, but had not had time to put Adam Milligan to sleep, the soul said: Sick.

Michael turned some of his attention to the human. YOU CANNOT BE SICK WHILE I AM POSSESSING YOU.

Woah, that voice doesn't get any less loud when it's inside my head, huh? Uh, but I just meant that this is like, neat and stuff.

NEAT? Michael did not see how possession by an archangel could be 'neat', seeing as how it would be unpleasant – to put it mildly – for even the hardiest of souls.

Yeah. Heh. I'm possessed by the archangel whose feast day I was born on. My mom would flip out.

Michael paused, and reconsidered the information he had received about the boy beforehand. There was nothing in his memory of his birthday. This might have been due to the fact that he didn't read the memo which Zachariah had prepared, but he still thought about who he might punish for this oversight.

Mom always said I was special because I was born on St. Michael's Feast Day. I doubt she imagined anything like this, though, the soul kept babbling.

St. Michael's Feast Day, or Michaelmas. In the Western Christian world, this event was celebrated on 29 September of the Gregorian Calendar. As Adam had grown up in this sphere, the fact that he was born on this day held meaning.

To someone born in the more Eastern Christian circles, the same would have been true for 8 November.

It didn't generally matter. Michael had no special connection to humans born on his feast day, nor did he have any particular interest in them. However, the boy being of the Winchester bloodline and being born on Michaelmas might have created the right conditions to make him a near perfect vessel.

For a moment, Michael wondered if his Father had planned this: A second vessel. Another option. But why would God plan for Michael's failure? No, it was more likely that it was a coincidence, though a lucky one.

YOU WILL DO, Michael decided.

Oh gee, thanks, dude, Adam said. If his tone was a little sarcastic, Michael ignored it.

This would all be over soon, anyway. Once he had executed the apocalypse, he could shed this vessel, and return Adam's soul to its rightful place in Heaven. (With a possible pit-stop at his mother's Heaven. Michael might have been a lying bastard – something that Adam would accuse him of plenty for about a hundred years in the cage – but he was not entirely without mercy, or sympathy.)

It was, of course, not all over soon. In fact, Michael and Adam would spend almost 1,600 years in the deepest layer of Hell, partly with the devil for company.

As first Sam, and then Lucifer was freed while Michael and Adam were still trapped, it began to look as if it would be the end for both of them, or at least the end of hope. But then, miraculously, they were freed, and stood in the golden rays of the glittering sun, dazed.

Had the world always been so bright, Michael wondered, and so beautiful?

The soul that lived in the chest he shared was doing somersaults.

We're free, Adam thought, his words gleaming perhaps more brightly than the sun. We're really, actually, free.

Michael smiled, and spread his wings wide, as if they could catch the slight breeze.

He didn't know what the future held – a beginning, or an end, or possibly both – but he and Adam were finally free. Free to go wherever they wanted, something that Adam was more familiar with than Michael, though he had never travelled as far as they would those following weeks. Free to do what they wanted, an entirely novel concept for Michael, who followed Adam as his guide to the sprawling world before them.

Free to be who they wanted. Except, of course, when Michael's father returned, and brought the dreaded ending.

But the ending of one book doesn't preclude the beginning of another. Or even the possibility of taking up a pen and writing one's own story.

And so they did. But that is a tale for another time.

[azure-steel]

@ghostofnibelheim asked:

"Can you eat these?" Four lonely and dry words make the spell by which the war hero dispels the heavy and dreary silence of the lounge room of the 49th floor.

Standing tall and imposing before the small infantryman, he holds up a single chicken egg.

Hopefully, a hard-boiled one

There was always something so fundamentally tedious about sentry duty. No one enjoyed just standing around in one spot for hours on end until your brain dissolved in your headcase. But today was special, super special in fact. So very few infantrymen are bestowed the hour of guarding the 49th floor lounge.

And even few the honour of being approached by one Sephiroth SOLDIER First Class. Ah, Cloud could feel the light fizz of the stars in his eyes when Sephiroth not only approached and gave address, but also offered a gift.

Albeit an egg.

The blonde's stand-to-attention was cut drastically short as he regarded the question, but also this offering which... seemed to still have the shell on.

"I... uh... I mean... hmm..." It was the best Cloud could muster in the moment, a myriad questions raced through his tiny mind in response to the request posed to him just now.

'Why is the shell still on...?' 'This doesn't sound like an order, am I okay to say no?' 'But this is Sephiroth SOLDIER First Class, my idol and superior, is denying him seen as a crime? Will I go to jail?' 'But if I do take it, just how much pain am I going to be in if Heidegger finds out I've been eating on the job...?'

Amidst the panic now beginning to froth into the infantryman's gullet there had to be a miscommunication between his brain and his basic motor-functions as he would simply reach out, take the egg with it's shell still on and just cram the thing into his mouth. There was a lot to be said about instinctual compulsion, that was for sure, and there was plenty to regret in that moment he would never be able to take back.

The crack of that shell grinding against his teeth was utterly revolting, the cold white and the yolk on his tongue equally as nauseating. It must have shown on his face; that down turned scowl to his mouth, the almost (but not quite) tearful expression in his eye How he was able to resist his gag reflex as he swallowed it down, shell and all had to be commendable, surely!

The egg... Cloud was going to be tasting that thing on his tongue and feeling it in his throat for next week.

It was RAW!!!

[sasukimimochi]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (you are here) Part 5 ...

Overall Warnings: grotesque written imagery, body horror, blood, possession(?) sort of (more like integrating), voices, loss of self (since this isn't really MCD), darker WWX (he's not classic wwx), violence.

No warnings for this part ❤

-

Part 4

· ✦ Do You Understand? ✦ ·

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian blinked and turned his head away from Biling Lake, tilting his head slightly as the white-clad cultivator approached. “Lan Zhan.” He smiled, turning his shoulder slightly as if showing off the stained robe on his shoulders. It was the one Lan Wangji had given him during the war.

“What are you doing here?” Lan Wangji folded his arms behind his back, watching the other kick his legs off of the wall of the waterway. He felt a light ache not seeing the smile he loved still, even now that the war had been over for some time.

“Just because. Jiang Cheng told me to get lost for a while~” Wei Wuxian hopped up, joining the other at his side. “He didn’t say how far or how long.”

“But the hunt is soon.”

“Oh that.” Wei Wuxian sighed and lifted his arms above his head, stretching out his arms. “I’ve been told it’s best for me not to go.” His shoulders popped from the stretching, but Lan Wangji didn’t have time to mention that he should be working his body more, instead he paused in his step, looking a bit lost for a second before correcting his expression.

“Why?”

“I’m too scary or something.” Wei Wuxian grinned, “I think you know the full reason though, right Lan Zhan?”

“Wei Ying…” Lan Wangji moved around to stand in front of him, conflict in his expression. “Will you tell me what’s happened now?”

Wei Wuxian’s face darkened briefly, face calculating for a moment but eventually took a deep breath and smiled again. “Lan Zhan, there is only one reason why I wouldn't be able to wield a sword, right?” He holds out his hand. “I have no qualms about you knowing.”

As Lan Wangji moved to take the hand and check his meridian however, an instinctual jerk of Wei Wuxian’s arm surprised the both of them. “Ah…sorry about that.”

Lan Wangji just seemed confused. “You offered your hand to me…are you alright?”

“Mm yes, I’m just a little bit…” He wiggled his fingers next to his head, smiling in that usual eerie way he’d picked up as he wasn’t sure how to explain himself. “Let’s try that again.”

This time he kept his hand held out, but it did start shaking as Lan Wangji took hold of his arm this time. Only when Lan Wangji finally pressed his fingers into the meridian did the shaking stop. Wei Wuxian’s face was dark once more, but for a reason he said nothing of, until Lan Wangji lifted his head. Then he smiled again, despite the heartbreaking expression on his old friend’s face. “Do you understand?”

Lan Wangji dragged Wei Wuxian away from the public eye as quickly as he could manage without it looking suspicious. “Wei Ying…” He took the other’s shoulders as soon as they were out of sight, frown deeply set into his brow. “So this…this is why you haven’t qi deviated. There’s nothing to deviate anymore.”

Wei Wuxian hummed and waved a hand dismissively. “I’d like to think there’s multiple reasons, but that would be one of them.” He froze up however when the man suddenly had him wrapped up in those white robes of his.

Lan Wangji had pulled away from the hug before Wei Wuxian even realized what happened, pupils blown and eyes wide. “L…Lan Zhan?” The man held his face and he stared back, wildly curious but shocked at the same time. This did not equate to what he knew of the other.

“Wei Ying…Come to Gusu with me.” Then Wei Wuxian’s expression returned to that ever eerie look once more, and Lan Wangji regretted it.

“You still want me to go to Gusu?”

Lan Wangji’s eyes flitted over the other’s face and he slowly withdrew his hands.

“Why?” Wei Wuxian asked once more, as usual. “You can’t expect me to do something like abandon my shixiong without an explanation.”

Lan Wangji was quiet for a long time, and so Wei Wuxian sighed, “You have to tell me why. If it’s not to bring me to healers or make me mend my ways, Protect me where I don't need it or whatever else, I need to know the reason. Not that I think it's entirely possible.”

“I just…”

“What?”

“I want to be by your side…” His voice came out meeker than usual, unsure of himself. “My reason is you.”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head slightly, eyes widening a fraction again. “Me?” Something stirred in him, seeing Lan Wangji’s expression shift into something like a frightened bunny. “Hey, don’t run away.” He held onto the other’s sleeve tightly when the other attempted to turn away, unwilling to let him back out now. “Start talking, bunny.”

The tips of Lan Wangji’s ears turned a dark pink. “Bunny?” He frowned slightly, avoiding the question and the other’s eyes despite not moving past the other’s grip.

“You look like a frightened bunny. So I'm calling you bunny.” He grinned, a hint of the sun within that Lan Wangji once loved to bask in silently hidden amongst the night. “If my handsome Lan er-gege doesn’t start talking, i’ll sta-”

Lan Wangji claps his hand over the other’s mouth, the demonic cultivator’s eyes lifting with mirth at the prize he’d won seeing the crown of the other’s cheeks also dust in rosy hues. “Wei Ying!”

Despite his body’s immediate urge to quell his next move, his bright red tongue darting out to wet the other’s palm in retaliation. Lan Wangji suddenly retracted his hand, cradling it to his chest like it’d been burned and stared at the other with somewhat wide eyes.

“Lan Zhan, er-gege, my little bunny,” Wei Wuxian leaned forward, smiling in too knowing of a way to allow for comfort. “It seems we have much to talk about.”

[scarletsaphire]

Chapter 3 of Guide Dog, and the final chapter before the epilogue! This is my EI fic done with @skarlettskwrl and beta'd by @redactedgoose

It took two weeks before there was the first sign of improvement from Danny's core. 

Two weeks where Jazz didn't leave the forest, barely left the patch of moss that Danny laid on. The only time she did is when her throat started to hurt from thirst, or when she couldn't think past the growling of her stomach.

Even then, she never had to go far. The instinctual inner compass that had led her to this part of the woods would switch the moment she climbed to shaky legs, leading her to a stream running with cool, clear water, or to a thicket of berries, sweet and plentiful. The moment she had her fill, she'd trot back to the clearing and curl back up around Danny's core, as close as she could get without the cold hurting her.

She passed the time trying to turn back into herself. 

Danny had once explained what it felt like to switch between ghost and human, how he would reach for the vibration of his core or the beating of his heart. Jazz tried to replicate it, trying to detect something familiarly human inside her, but she felt nothing. Her heart still beat, of course, but it wasn't at the pace she was used to it beating. There was nothing hidden inside of her that felt different, and with nothing for her to reach towards, there was no real way for her to turn back- at least, not using that method.

Jazz tried other ways, of course, but all of them ended up just as successful as the first.

After these two weeks, Jazz felt a vibration. Danny’s core was just as still as ever, as was the ground and the trees and everything else, but she could feel it, like someone had struck a tuning fork deep inside of her. She didn't know what it meant, but she knew it was good. It was a sign that something had changed which was probably good. 

Jazz curled closer to Danny's core, and the vibrating inside of her increased.

She didn't get up for another week after that, thirst and hunger be damned.

At the end of that week, Danny's core was covered by a layer of ectoplasm, steadily getting thicker every hour. By the end of that day, it was about the size of a bowling ball. By that morning, small stubs had started growing out of it where arms and legs and a head would be. Another few hours and it had a near human silhouette, and by the time the moon was visible, enough features had regrown that Jazz would be able to recognize him as Danny.

Jazz regretted not getting something to drink or eat in the past few days, because she definitely couldn't go now. Danny could wake up at any moment now, and Jazz refused to let him wake up alone, in an unfamiliar place.

His chest started moving, so slowly at first Jazz didn't even notice it. She did notice when the nearly unbroken sound of the forest that she'd gotten so used to over the past couple weeks was broken by the sound of Danny's breathing, soon joined by the slow beating of his heart.

Danny was alive. Or at least as alive as he ever was.

He spoke before he opened his eyes. It wasn’t much, just Jazz’s name, mumbled and slurred until it was almost unintelligible, but not with the sound of someone missing their tongue and teeth. It was the same way he’d said Jazz’s name every morning since he started kindergarten, from the first time she had to wake him up.

Jazz had never heard Danny say it with anything resembling relief before, but she heard it in his voice now.

She couldn't reply, of course. Any sound she could've made right now would have just proven to Danny that something was wrong, and she felt she could explain it better through a weird game of charades, once he could see. Her silence didn't seem to deter him, since he reached out directly towards her. Jazz was just slightly out of his reach, and she made sure to stay that way.

She braced herself as Danny peeled back his eyes, waiting for the moment that he laid eyes on her. How would he react? What would he think? Danny was always a do first, ask questions later kind of kid; would he do the same thing here? She hoped not.

He turned her face to look at her, and Jazz couldn't hold the whimper back. She'd expected to see his normal bright blue, or maybe the blinding green that he had in his ghost form. Instead, he gazed at her with eyes a pale brown color, with no pupils or iris or whites to speak of. Jazz recognized it as the same color the silicone had been, the same thing that had been poured into his eyes. She couldn't see which way he was looking, but by the way he kept blinking, and the panicked look that crossed his features, she could tell he couldn't see.

"Jazz?" he said again, his voice much clearer now. "Something's wrong. What... what happened?"

Jazz wanted to do so many things. She wanted to hold Danny close, hug him tight like she had done when they were little and their parents' work in the lab got too loud and too scary for them. She wanted to tell him that it would be okay, that he was safe now. She wanted to lead him through the guided breathing techniques that he could never remember on his own. She wanted to lay next to them in the patch of moonlight, and look up at the stars as he talked about them as if they were magic.

She couldn't do any of that.

Danny lifted himself up to a sitting position. "I know you're there," Danny said. "I... I can feel you."

Jazz could hear him swallow.

"I can feel you like I can feel ghosts." The words were whispered, would've been too quiet for her to hear if she was still normal, still how she should be. "You- you're not-" Danny couldn't finish his sentence, and Jazz couldn't watch him keep struggling with it.

She rested her head in Danny's lap, trying to be as loud as she could without sounding too animalistic. Danny jumped at the sudden touch, but he started to relax slowly. 

His hand fell on her neck, the touch distant through the thick layers of fur, but she could feel it, and she could feel him in another way too.

Jazz had felt it before; a soft vibration that she could pinpoint to Danny, but was coming from inside of her. It wasn't quite as strong as it had been when he was just his core, but it was still there.

Danny slowly started to move his hand, burrowing it deeper into her fur. He let out a shaky breath. "Well, you're more alive than I am," he said with a joyless laugh. He traced over her ears, gently down her snout, figuring out her silhouette by touch. "A... dog?"

It was close enough for Jazz.

"So a wolf then," he corrected.

Jazz looked up sharply, causing Danny to jerk backwards and lose his balance. He fell back onto the ground with a thud. "Ow," he said simply.

Jazz whimpered an apology.

"Yeah, you better be sorry," Danny grumbled.

It was probably a coincidence, Jazz told herself. Danny could do a lot of things that made absolutely zero sense, but he'd never been able to read someone's mind before. At least, not without actually overshadowing her in some way, and he was clearly not doing that. It was just a coincidence, a lucky accident, that he seemed to be replying. They weren't hard leaps in logic to make.

"I don't think this is a me thing," Danny said. "Maybe it’s finally your turn to get hit with the worst of the Fenton luck."

Danny had quite literally just recovered from being dissected.

Danny winced. "Don't remind me."

That was probably a good idea.

"So. You're a wolf. I'm blind, and we're... Where are we?" Danny asked.

Jazz projected the idea of the forest clearing they were in at Danny. He didn't reply. Maybe it only worked with actual thoughts?

"If that question is directed at me, then probably. I didn't... detect anything before that."

That did make Jazz's life easier. She was never much of a visual person. She explained as best as she could how she had found the forest, and about the few weeks they'd sent there. It wasn't easy to focus enough to keep her thoughts from wandering, especially with how hungry and thirsty she was, but she managed.

Danny nodded slowly as she ended the story. "Gotcha. So, game plan. We get you something to eat, because I don't know if you're just thinking of being hungry or if I can actually hear your stomach growl, but either way that's probably important. Then we find Sam and Tucker."

Jazz didn't like that plan. It was almost guaranteed that someone had found- she cut that thought off quickly. She didn't know how much control she had over what Danny could and could not hear, but she wasn't going to make him listen to that so soon. Someone would probably be looking for them, and the first place they'd check would be Danny's best friends.

"Well, what do you think we should do then?"

Jazz paused. They couldn't stay here forever, and Danny certainly wasn't acting like he needed any more time to recover. It didn't look like they had many options.

"That's what I was thinking. Besides, I don't want to leave Sam and Tuck in the dark any longer than they already have been." Danny climbed to his feet, dusting dirt off of his jeans. "Get it, in the dark? Like I am? Cause I can't see?"

He started walking in the direction Jazz knew the berries had been before Jazz could think up a reply.

---

"You know what?" Tucker asked after Danny finished explaining. "I don't think this was on my bingo card."

"It definitely wasn't on mine," Sam said. "Though, I did have Jazz getting the next batch of ghost weirdness. This definitely counts."

"Oh, definitely," Danny agreed. "And I think it was on mine. One of you double check for me?"

Sam nodded, rifling around one of her drawers and pulling out a note card almost identical to the one she already had. "You did have captured by your parents," Sam said. "And dissection. Damn. I always forget just how bleak yours is."

"It is working for him," Tucker said, looking over Sam's shoulder. "That's double bingo for you, man."

"Hooray," Danny said, weakly lifting his arm in a fake cheer and letting it fall back down on Jazz, who was laying next to him. "Now that we've established I'm the undefeated bingo champion, we should probably figure everything out."

"Everything might be a hopeful estimate," Tucker said. "Everything hasn't been... great, recently."

"They found your parents-" Sam cut herself off. It was clear that they all knew what had happened to the Drs. Fenton, at least to some degree, but they'd all been dancing around the topic. Jazz was grateful for that. Sam started back up, slower this time. "They found your parents and have been looking for you-" she pointed at Danny "-and trying to call you." She pointed at Jazz.

"From what I've heard, most people assume you're as good as dead," Tucker said. "We had a memorial service for you at school and everything. Dash gave someone a wedgie in your honor. I'm sure he's expecting a thank you when you get back."

Danny tensed, sitting quiet for a minute. "I don't know if I'll have the chance to."

Tucker and Sam shared a look. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I don't think it’s a good idea for me to go back," Danny said slowly. He picked up speed, continuing before anyone could say anything. "I've already been doing a terrible job at hiding my secret, we all know it. I don't think that these are going to help any." He knocked against the silicone in his eyes with his knuckle. "I'd have to answer so many questions- and I don't think I'd be able to get very far without Jazz anyway."

That was true. On their journey to Sam's house, Danny had kept his hand on Jazz's back, keeping them both invisible and using her as a guide. The couple times he'd let go of her, he'd promptly walked straight into a wall. Literally.

"I'm sure we could manage," Tucker said. "You can say you were kidnapped into the ghost zone or something. I'm sure they'll believe it."

"And if they do?" Danny said. "They'll keep a closer eye on me than ever. And what about the fact that I don't have any legal guardian right now? They'll try and get to Jazz, and realize that she's missing too, and then there will be even more questions."

"You do have a point," Sam agreed, nodding along. "But if you're not going to try and come back, what will you do?"

"To start with, shut down the portal."

The room fell into stunned silence.

It wasn't the first time they'd talked about shutting down the portal. 

Jazz herself had spent many nights wishing she could just shut it down and end all of the madness. It had just never been possible; it would take hours of preparation to redirect all the power, hours that they never had, especially when Maddie and Jack spent almost all their time down there. Even if they had the option, they'd never been sure what would happen to Danny or the ghosts who'd decided to stay peacefully in Amity Park.

It was Tucker who spoke first. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Not at all," Danny said. "But it needs to be done. Just because I'm MIA doesn't mean that ghosts will stop coming through, and I'm clearly not coming back on the scene any time soon."

"But what about-"

"I'm shutting down the portal, whether you agree or not," Danny shut Tucker down before he could finish his thought. "It’s too dangerous. It's always been too dangerous. I'm proof enough of that."

"It's not going to be easy," Sam said. "The police are watching that place like a hawk, and the GIW are close behind, if marginally more subtle about it."

"Since when is anything in my half life easy?" Danny asked.

"And yet you insist on dragging us into it anyway," Tucker said with a shake of his head. His hand had already reached into his pocket, pulling out his PDA. "I have the surveillance patterns here, and can probably get the blueprints for the portal if they've saved them to their database."

"You guys are the best," Danny said with a weak smile. "We can do this. Right Jazz?"

Yes, yes they would. And Jazz would do everything in her power to make sure it went well.