#and we are somehow not that nor offered the understanding of our anger

[alienisticxo]

Before the Fever - Chapter Nine

{Master Chief x Reader series - TV based}

{A╱N} we’re getting into the thick of it now :’) Chapter 10 is already almost done too! i'm constantly writing- now that were getting to the burn part it’s just exuding from my pores and onto the virtual page. can you believe i've been writing all of this on my phone?! 

i hope you guys are enjoying it. ♡

thank you so much for hanging in and reading as always!

{gif by michaelmercer} 

enjoy ♡ 

Chapter Nine - Fighting the Same Battle

She trusted me.  

Now that was something I never thought I’d hear her say.  

I tried to make sense of the sentiment, to calm the way I felt when she said it. In a matter of minutes she’d gone from enemy to friendly. There was a sense of relief in that.  

What a new mix of sensation it offered.  

I could only stare at the girl, completely lost for words. I knew being honest was always the correct path despite what the ONI and Halsey may have practiced, but being as blunt as Cortana had been with her seemed to do the trick to get her to understand.  

Why hadn’t I thought to be that way with her before? Well, it was classified then. It was different now. Cortana was right, we were fighting the same battle. Albeit for different reasons, yet somehow they were still similar. She wanted away from the UNSC and all the pain it seemed to have caused her. I…  

Wasn’t sure what I wanted...  

A little more thought brought it around. They caused me more trouble than I ever realized, and I wanted the truth. I wanted to know what this Keystone had to do with myself, my past. I wanted to know who cleared Halsey to do this to us to begin with and why she thought it would be a good idea to polish us into blank canvases to do the heavy lifting for her. I could never bring my parents back. But, I wanted to know who I was, who I could’ve been..  

If there was anyone other than a Spartan who could understand how that felt, I realized then, that it might’ve been {Y/N}.  

Anger surfaced when I thought about how Halsey was to blame for both of us. Remembering that I trusted her, had faith in her my entire life, felt like no one else could ever fill her shoes, only rubbed it in further.  

————

Both Cortana and John looked at me as though I’d just spoken Sangheili to them though I couldn’t exactly read either of their faces. Maybe it was a little insane to see the semblance we now shared; to suddenly voice that I trusted him despite all of the push-back I’d done.

Where it had perplexed me before, The Master Chief’s intense insistence on my revealing what I’d seen and heard on The Covenant ship to Doctor Halsey became clear. He was simply trying to piece together his own history. His own forgotten memories of a life he once had. And it wasn’t just that, but he was dealing with a plethora of feelings, too. How could I blame him for it? I’d dealt with emotion all my life. I was still unsure of it all.

“Where are we going?” I pressed further, though he nor Cortana responded to my last statement.

After a beat, John’s shoulders loosened, his line of sight drifting to another corner of the craft.

“Rubble.”

“What?” I immediately piped up.

“You’ll stay with someone I can trust once I’m gone.”

“No, you can’t send me back there, please. They’ll find me in no time, they’ll–” I cut myself short.

They’ll find Astra, too, I thought instead. Though there was no real reason to take her in, I was afraid they’d use her as a bargaining chip to get to me. I hadn’t given much thought to where I’d end up once all of this was over, but while it was still going strong, especially while we were wanted, I couldn’t go back there.

“It’s what’s best,” John finalized through what sounded like a quiet sigh.

I was too preoccupied with our next location to be concerned with whether or not he still found me annoying. I shook my head, nearly unable to stop as I stood from my own place on the floor, as though I’d be able to run away again.

“I won’t go back there. You can’t leave me there..”

I had no tears left to give, but I could feel my face burning hot with emotion.

“Perhaps.. Given the circumstances, it might not be too far-fetched to head in another direction,” Cortana suggested.

“I already sent Kai to Rubble with The Artifact,” John seemed to remind her, his tone stern.

Though it felt like news to me, I vaguely remembered hearing him tell Cortana about direction back on Reach. I was so dazed, so much in shock, that I hadn’t put two and two together. The Blessed One who belonged to The Covenant popped into my head once more. I could still feel her cold stare burning into my own retinas. My skin crawled. Did she know where to find us? Was our escape going to end up a trap if the Keystone was in either of our hands again?

“Trajectories are changeable,” Cortana started. “I’m sure once she arrives and notices you’re not there—“

“She’ll think I set her up for failure. I can’t do that to her.”

I tried to think of a way to help resolve the issue and still stay away from Rubble. It felt impossible, now dealing with a set of problems that I hadn’t had any experience in. Wrangling disobedient Spartans had to be a task in and of itself. It didn’t make it right, but it was no wonder Doctor Halsey felt the need to suppress them so harshly.

“Maybe.. we go to Rubble,” I began to compromise. “Just until The Keystone is secure. And then—“

“We change course with {Y/N},” Cortana finished for me. “An idea worth considering, when headquarters is more than likely pinpointing and pursuing various locations in the area already. If they manage to grab her, it’s your head on the chopping block later.”

But John looked unamused; more so than usual.

“And when Kai gets back to Reach? Without me there—“

“She’ll deal with the consequences. She’s a big girl, Chief. She can handle herself. She knows you’re not exactly the favorite at the moment, but she took the directive and ran with it without question. I, for one, believe in Kai. She exhibits similar traits as you do. I don’t think it’ll take her much work to avoid any unfavorable outcomes for her insubordination— Especially if Halsey needs her to keep quiet. Which she absolutely does.”

Cortana eyed John, but immediately spoke again. “I can tell what you’re thinking. Another missing Spartan wouldn’t look good for anyone. Doctor Halsey would be better off disappearing herself.”

The cogs were turning in his head, it was visible, but The Master Chief stayed adamant.

“We almost lost her on the field,” John responded, staring back at me instead. He seemed to peel his eyes away again to head back to the front of the ship. “She locked up, panicked. She nearly got herself killed at a critical moment. I can leave {Y/N} with Soren and Kwan. I’m sure they’ll figure it out from there until the heat dies down. Safely.”

I could only stare as the two countered one another. They both seemed to have their reasonings. But it almost hurt to hear that he was just going to dump me back on Rubble like.. nothing. Never to be seen again. I knew I had been the one coming around, my perspective of the Spartan shifting into something more favorable. It was probably silly of me to assume he’d been warming up to me, too. Clearly, it was.

“It was a learning experience,” Cortana began again. “Just look how Kai has handled since! You’re forgetting, if she’s already executed the objective, she’s steps ahead of the credit you’re currently giving her. Odds are she was already in hot water for not showing up with Riz and Vannak when you were in the process of escaping with {Y/N}, anyway. She’s a Spartan, Chief. She’s got more than what it takes.”

It felt nice to have someone on my side, fighting for what I wanted. Though I highly doubted Cortana was doing it for my sake, probably John’s more than anything, it was welcome all the same.

“Please, Master Chief..” was all I could silently utter, my voice lost in their conversation.

I couldn't explain the real reason that I tried to bury; that I didn’t feel safe without him near anymore, especially after the way he’d protected me so readily when we were being chased. Giving into emotion just a little more, it meant something to me. Where I’d often felt as though no one cared, he showed me otherwise just moments ago. And whether it was the hero complex I thought the soldiers maintained or not, I found myself uncaring of that aspect. His humanity continued to shine through with each little gesture. I couldn’t ignore that.

Even if he wanted to leave me back on Rubble. He did mention my safety..

————

When I looked into her eyes, it was almost unnerving, the pleading she was doing with me. Not because it made me uneasy, but because I didn’t know how to give her what she wanted with the best possible outcome.

After everything that happened, how could I deny her the one thing she asked for? I had no other place to take her, to leave her. Especially not one where I knew she’d be safe. I’d only known where previous missions had sent Silver Team. No planet was truly secure.  

I didn’t know why I cared that she’d be safe. I let Cortana’s words roll back around in my head.

‘Smitten.’  

Was that the instinct I felt? I felt compelled to make sure Kwan Ha was in good hands, but this? This was entirely different all the way around. There was no connection with Kwan, just making sure the right thing was done when they’d ordered Article 72 on an innocent person. My first real leap into the world of right and wrong.

But smitten… Smitten was extremely close to ‘love’ and other heavy emotions that seemed too daunting to take on and way beyond my scope. I silently hoped the feeling was controllable when I forced myself to look away from {Y/N} and head back to the cockpit.  

Still, I stopped in the entryway, turning to face her again. There was an odd pull toward her that was suddenly constantly eating at me. I pushed myself to ignore it.  

And for once in my entire life as an armored Spartan, I felt grotesquely monstrous in my Mjolnir— like the demon they all claimed me to be; intimidating when I didn’t intend it. The girl had been shaken enough. She deserved something softer, less imposing. These things we’d dealt with weren’t easy for anyone to handle. I could see the way she still faintly trembled, and our first encounter in the abandoned house on Rubble came to mind. It was surprising to see what she could withstand.

Maybe she would’ve made a decent marine after all.  

“We’ll go to Rubble,” I began, noticing the way her face immediately fell. “And then Eridanus II.”  

Her chest seemed to deflate with a sigh of relief, her eyes closing briefly. It was going to be hell for us both if they found us, but I just couldn’t disappoint her anymore in that regard. That was the only place remotely empty that I knew. I’d decide what to do with The Keystone once we’d settled.

“Cortana, do you have the coordinates to our last locale on Eridanus? My, last locale,” I corrected.  

“Of course,” she said, not missing a beat. “I’ll pull it up.”

Finding my way back into the seat, I let my body relax as much as I could without fighting it. My eyes were heavy, and while that was a rare occurrence, I was beginning to feel the effects of the day. Staring out into the vastness of space, I spoke as quietly as I possibly could when I noticed Cortana had sized herself back down and stood in the same spot on the panel she’d been before.  

“What is this that I’m feeling, really?” I asked.

A smirk placed itself on her features.  

“I’m serious, Cortana.”  

The A.I. dropped her act, holding her hands behind her back and pondering for only a few seconds.

“As I mentioned previously, it could have something to do with the connection you two share over the Keystone. Or…” She lifted her chin just so. “You’ve found some kind of kinship in her. She understands you, and you’ve lacked said familiar biological source for quite some time, if always. It’s possible that alone has your heart racing when you‘re around her. This seems to happen often in humans who are less experienced in the ways of human interaction. Teenagers are more susceptible, for instance, and it’s like what your species would call ‘puppy love,’ if you will. Given your status with the pellet being removed for the first time since adolescence, it’s not an unnatural response.”

“Stop,” I held my hand up. “L—,”

I shook my head, unable to finish the thought.  

“That’s not what this is. It has to be the Keystone.”  

“If you say so,” she muttered through her teeth, clearly unbelieving of my statement.  

I glanced behind my shoulder, noticing {Y/N} had curled herself back up into a ball as far down the ship as possible against the interior, her frame illuminated only by the starlight that poured in through the windows. The sight of her in that position kicked up a sensation of what I recognized to be empathy. It wasn’t as tolerable as I thought it would be.

The previously mentioned ‘hug’ surfaced back into my thoughts.  

“Devil's advocate,” I began again, still quiet, though I was sure {Y/N} couldn’t hear anything past our voices murmuring. “What if that is what I’m feeling?”

“Well, Chief, I’m afraid I can’t help you much in that department. I’m in your neural interface, but your emotions and decisions are your own. How you decide to act on that is entirely up to you. You’ve already tested my limits, remember?”

She cocked a brow.  

Always helpful, this one.  

“I don’t know how to act on it. I don’t.. Does she…”

“Feel the same way?” she questioned, leaning forward to get a better look at me before glancing in her direction, too.  

I stayed silent. I’d never felt so.. juvenile. Even as kids, this kind of subject matter was the furthest thing from our minds.  

“I can’t speak for her. But, the cues I’ve picked up on might insinuate that she isn’t opposed to your presence.”

“Isn’t opposed to my presence,” I snorted indignantly. “You’ve really got a way with words.”

“Oh, I’m the one ruining your idea of love?”  

A scowl placed itself on my features. The word just sounded like it would taste bitter on my own tongue. It wasn’t an idea I had at all. ‘ Love’ was for the marines who’d grown too close over too long of time away from home, fraternization cases waiting to happen. It meant busted ranks. Distractions on duty. It held no place in a Spartan’s world. The closest thing we had was our loyalty to each other— and even when we lost a brother or sister, it was business as usual.  

Until we opened our eyes, of course.

This girl and I, we had no real reason to be engaged in anything of the sort. It didn’t matter to me that this could be a symptom of being repressed for so long. As far as I understood, something that deep that people seemed to value so highly took time. Effort. Energy. All things that had never taken place between us. If I didn’t have an HUD and Cortana, I might not even know her full name. So why did I feel so drawn to her? How could this have happened the way it did? From one minute to the next… It frustrated me above anything else.  

But Cortana seemed to throw the idea around like it was normal. Just another cog in the machine. I didn’t care how much {Y/N} and I suddenly ‘understood’ each other; how beautiful I found her. How unfamiliarly gentle she was when she’d taken my hand into hers..  

I gritted my teeth, shut my eyes; tried to ignore my own thoughts as they escaped me so easily when it came to letting myself think of her.  

The A.I.’s brow furrowed.  

“Your levels….” she trailed off before inhaling and starting up again, more seriously than before. “Chief, I know you have little experience in this, and I’m currently incapable of experiencing emotion in the same way you do, but the only directive that seems right, is to follow whatever your heart and instinct is telling you to do. It seems.. And, correct me if I’m wrong— that you’ve already been allowing it to lead the way without even realizing it.”  

Cortana looked around, indicating our current situation.  

Giving it more thought, there was no correction needed.  

————

I opened and closed my palm, wiggling my fingers delicately as I thought of the way he looked when I took his hand. He looked confused, shocked, almost. I wasn’t sure how to take that, and the moment stuck with me more than I thought it would. While I was embarrassed at my own instinct at the time, I didn’t regret my action. If it offered him any sort of solace, any inkling of kindness, it was alright with me. He didn’t pull away from me, and the thought that maybe he felt similarly to the way I did crossed my mind.

John more than likely hated me at this point with all of the extra stress I caused him and countless others. But all I wanted to do was show him that not everyone was so untrustworthy as the people he dealt with; not everyone wanted to gain something from him, or use him up the way he’d been his entire life. He made me feel safe. It seemed silly, especially given his status— the galaxy’s own protector, but I wanted to do the same for him in any way that I could.

Something told me no one ever bothered to make him feel protected. I was sure it was something he never felt he needed, or even gave much thought to.

The wall I’d built simply because of my own jadedness with the world I knew, seemed to be near nonexistent now. He wasn’t happy that Cortana outed his new experience with life and all it entailed to me, but it made all the difference. It allowed me to rethink the way I felt, to reevaluate my own guarded nature with him.

It wasn’t his fault. I’d had no real experience with a Spartan, just what I’d heard, what I’d seen. How blind I suddenly felt about the entire ordeal.

And I’d had enough time to think about what was happening in the present, sitting curled up in the back of the craft. After a while, it occurred to me that I’d never actually expressed my gratitude for his help. While he’d taken me in to begin with, he was now risking everything to get me as far away as possible.

That also meant something. No one had ever tried to right any kind of wrong with me— whether he saw it that way or not.

Without a sound, I stood from my place and quietly moseyed over toward the cockpit. Remaining far enough away, I wanted to provide the two privacy in whatever conversation they were having. It was clear I didn’t need to be privy to it, and I respected that the best I could within the limited space.

“Master Chief?” I called out– though still quietly, provided the area. He immediately turned around to face me.

The movement was so quick, it almost startled me. It reminded me of someone who was waiting for something awful to happen at any given moment, hoping they’d be able to prevent it. I imagined that must've been how he lived his life, and that tugged at my heartstrings. Never being able to fully relax, never knowing what a moment of peace felt like. While I didn’t have it quite as bad, I knew how that could feel, too.

He stared at me without a word, his eyes intense, waiting.

“I never did get to say thank you,” I spoke softly, almost nervous, now. “For taking me out of there.. I’m not sure what Doctor Halsey was going to do with me after the tests were over, but I can’t imagine it would’ve been good.”

He leaned back a little, as though that wasn’t what he expected from me. I supposed there were going to be a lot of ‘unexpecteds’ between us in the time to come.

Cortana peeked over at him, a hint of a smile on her face.

“And thank you, too, Cortana,” I continued, a hand finding its way to my opposite arm, rubbing absently at a bruise from Halsey’s collection of data.

“Don’t mention it,” she quipped happily.

But John remained stoic, intense. He nodded once vaguely, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re welcome.”

I bowed my head just a bit before turning around to find my place again. I wasn’t expecting some grand speech or show, his response was enough. All I needed was for him to know that I did appreciate his willingness to throw it all on the line for me. But it was what happened next that surprised me most of all.

“Hey,” John breathed.

I stopped, facing him again in slight shock.

A few seconds passed, and with a heavy sigh, he stood from his place, and lifted an arm in my direction.

Confusion was my initial reaction, and he picked up on that quickly, clearly knowing this would be confusing to anyone. His hand then motioned me in for… a hug. His expression still seemed quite disconnected, but I didn’t take it personally. I was sure it had to be hard for him to even offer up the gesture to begin with.

And while I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, I couldn’t help myself. I needed the comfort. I needed to feel something other than fear and exhaustion. I didn’t want to think that I may have needed some part of him, too. That would’ve been a scarier realization to come to that I wasn’t sure I was ready for, either, especially so soon.

I nearly ran into his arms, uncaring of the bulky, cold metal that encased him. His strong arm latched around my small frame, squeezing gently— so gently in fact, that I wondered if he thought he’d crush me otherwise.

I’d never felt so delicate, and it was even more amusing that the sensation surfaced in the arms of a fully armored Spartan.

But I finally let go.

Melting completely against The Master Chief, I stood, my arms squeezing around his immovable build until they were sore, tears I didn’t know I had left streaming between the rough alloy and my skin. I felt his arm tighten, the other moving to wrap around me in turn as my body shook gently. He must’ve decided my breakdown in his arms was worth the entire embrace.

I couldn’t look up at him, couldn’t try to read what he was thinking or even begin to explain myself. All I could do was feel an insurmountable amount of emotion like a million waves breaking over the shore. And while there was no body heat between us, no extra detail to the touch we shared, it was more than enough.

It was genuine. It was all I needed.

My collapse was no longer just about recent events, but the entirety of my life and how derailed it had become over time. It all tied in together. From being left on Rubble as a child, to being here now, with John. I’d stolen the Keystone, I’d brought this upon myself. But it all seemed intertwined, connected. As though maybe fate had brought me here. To learn about my parents, to help him learn about himself. I was tired, stressed, feeling unstable in more ways than one. He had to be, too. I didn’t care how strong he was or what wars he’d fought and won. There was no way he wasn’t. All of these events had become very, very personal.

There wasn’t another word shared between us, just my sniffling and quiet sobbing that I was unable to control. Typically, I would’ve been slightly mortified to be seen in such a way. But in the mess we were in, there was no room for that. We were fighting the same battle now, just like Cortana said. For the time being, we only had each other. I needed his hug like I needed air— and it hadn’t even occurred to me until it happened.

His hand began to rub my back ever so slightly— he seemed so cautious, so careful for being so large and menacing the green titanium, riddled with dents and pings from our escape. In the midst of it all I tried to put myself in his shoes, to really understand the gravity of just how much he was dealing with, just how much he was possibly losing over me and his mission to search for himself. The bullets he took and the fists he’d faired, the plasma he’d dodged and the reputation he’d garnered.. and not just recently, but for as long as he could remember.

For just a brief moment, while I knew he meant to comfort me, I wondered who the embrace was really for.

-x-x-x-

Tags: @grimistangel​

[aebi12]

Sinful Desires - chapter 6 

At some point in her wiling Alyssa falls asleep.

When she wakes up, her eyes burn and the moonlight shines pale through her window. She has lost track of time, it might just be dusk or it might be the darkest point of the night. She does not know and does not feel like leaving her room and finding out. She neither wishes nor dares to face Rhaenyra. To listen to her claims once again.

Alyssa very much doubts that her mother will openly announce the real reason for her anger towards her, she knows that the best thing in her situation is that what happened between her and Aemond remain a secret, but she also knows that Rhaenyra will be unable to entirely pretend that the relationship with her daughter is still the same as before. Alyssa can easily imagine the cold indifference her mother is going to subject her to from now on. And she does not feel ready to deal with it yet. So, she stays in her room.

Once again, she loses track of time. Her mind is as divided as her heart. A part of her relives the shared moments of that night in her room in King's Landing, Aemond's arms encircling her waist, his warm kisses on her skin, the stolen sighs between caresses. The illusion of living in a perfect bubble where only the two of them existed. No problems, no consequences.

Bliss is the word that comes to her mind when she thinks about how much has happened in so little time. The things the two of them have confessed to, what they didn't say but it was more than clear because his touches were enough to show her that whatever existed between them was mutual.

Only now those memories are also tainted by a feeling she did not expect to experience. Guilt. And not the guilt she knows she should feel for losing her virginity to a man she was not betrothed to, but guilt for hurting and disappointing her mother. Her mother, whom she adored and wanted to always please in every single matter. Her mother who had stayed with her watching over her dreams when she used to get sick as a child. Her mother who had felt betrayed by her actions.

Alyssa marvels as tears roll down her cheeks again. One might think that she has no more to spill, but apparently, that is not the case.

The door to her room is thrown open and Lucerys leans in, tray in hand and a hesitant smile on his face.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he says as he closes the door and walks over to his sister's bed.

She offers him a smile and quickly wipes her cheeks, "Thanks Luke." Her voice sounds strangely hoarse so she clears her throat, "How did the training go?"

He shrugs, “Same as every day. It does not matter, are you going to tell me what is going on? Mother excused your absence at dinner saying you were not feeling well but I know there is something else going on.” Alyssa wants to say something, but he cuts her off, “Mother looks sad. And angry. I know you two had a fight, although I do not know exactly why."

Luke looks at her expectantly, concern painted on his face. Alyssa bites her lip and looks down trying to compose her expression before facing her brother. She knows that eventually she is going to have to say something, somehow explain what is going on.

"Mother is going to find me a husband" she ends up saying, which is not a lie at all

Her brother looks at her blankly, "You mean a suitor"

Alyssa shakes her head, "She is going to marry me as soon as possible."

Luke frowns and also shakes his head, “That does not make sense. You are just a girl"

His remark manages to make her smile, albeit a joyless smile, “We are the same age and you are already betrothed. Also, our whole lives we have always done everything together, I guess mother believes this is the right time to decide my future” her voice breaks towards the end

"But it is different. I am going to marry Rhaena, and she is… well, she is Rhaena,” he shrugs.

She understands what Luke is failing to communicate. Her cousin has lived with them for several years now, they have grown up together, there is complicity between them, even affection. The relationship between her brother and her cousin has all the foundations to be a happy union.

The realization that her story is going to be the exact opposite hits her suddenly. Yes, she knew that she would end up marrying someone strange, but she had never really stopped to consider that she would be cut off from her family, that she would have to live somewhere else, apart from Jace and Luke and Joffrey. That it would be years, perhaps, until they could meet once more. Her heart breaks again when she understands all this.

"I know it is my duty, but I do not want to get married yet," she confesses in a whisper.

“It is completely unfair,” Luke retorts harshly, pushing the tray aside so he can take his sister's hands, “I will talk to mother. She cannot just marry you to whoever she pleases. She cannot take you away from me"

Alyssa wraps her arms around her brother's neck and snuggles into his chest. Luke hugs her, comforting her as the sobs start again. He goes on to say that her mother will have to put her plans on hold, that she will surely come to her senses and consent to Alyssa having a long engagement with some young lord. Alyssa knows that won't be the case, but she does not have the heart to contradict her brother.

She knows it is wrong to hide the truth from him. She and Luke have always been honest with each other, but Alyssa does not know how her brother would take learning that she and Aemond had shared the night together. She likes to think that Luke would understand the reasons that led her to do what she did  -although she is not foolish enough to imagine that he would not recriminate her for her choosing of lover- but then she had also thought that her mother would not judge so harshly. So, she prefers not to take the risk. It does not matter anyway. It is not as if her fate and Aemond's will meet again.

"You should eat," he says suddenly.

Alyssa breaks the hug and takes one of the muffins her brother brought, nibbling a few times, but finding no taste at all. She eventually puts the food aside and goes back to lie on her bed.

Luke removes the tray, leaving it on the table and then lying down next to her. Alyssa returns to the comfort of her twin's arms and he strokes her hair.

“I was thinking,” he begins, “that perhaps you could marry some vassal lord of House Velaryon. I know it is not ideal, but any of those castles are close enough for me to visit you on a daily basis. Arrax would have no problem flying those distances. Besides, at some point I will be the Lord of the Tides, that way I would make sure that you are protected and happy”

Alyssa lifts her face to his and smiles at him. She does not dare, however, to get her hopes up before the idyllic image that her brother conjures up, "I think that would be a great idea"

"I'm sure I can convince Mother” Luke smiles with the confidence that being Rhaenyra's favorite generates in him.

Alyssa nods and adds, "I have a question, though, what makes you think I'll want to see you every day once I'm married?"

Lucerys lets out a snort and goes into a tickle fit. He hasn't done that in years, so he catches her off guard, but Alyssa is quick to react. Soon they are both sore from laughter like when they were children.

The thought that soon her life will have no more moments like this invades her once more, but she forces herself not to think about it and she hugs her brother again. "Thank you, Luke," she says softly, "Will you stay with me tonight?"

He doesn't answer but covers them both with the blanket and it isn't long before she falls asleep again.

***

"I do not understand why mother is so upset"

"Apparently our sister did not react well to the news of her engagement"

"I still think it's too soon"

Whispers are the first thing she hears when she wakes up. Alyssa opens her eyes and is taken aback when she hears the voices of her older brothers in her room. It takes her a minute to remember everything that had happened the previous evening.

“Jace? Luke?”

Alyssa sits on her bed and looks at her brothers.

"You are awake," Jace smiles at her, "feeling better?"

She shrugs and stands up. Her eyes feel heavy from all the crying and her skin feels feverish, "I just need a bath."

"Sure, of course, I'll send one of your maids."

Jace leaves her room and Luke walks over to her, "I will talk to Mother before breakfast."

Alyssa does not answer, she just nods and watches him go. A maid enters a few minutes later to prepare her bath and she is tempted to stay there for hours, sheltered in the hot water of her tub, but she knows she cannot do that. She will eventually have to face Rhaenyra.

You are the blood of the dragon, she thinks to herself as she dries her body, not a frightened girl.

Her own actions had led to this moment. It was time to face the consequences and she would do it with her head held high.

***

When Alyssa arrives at the table the entire family is already there.

"Good morning, mother" she greets. If this were any other morning, Alyssa would kiss Rhaenyra on the cheek, but this time she just takes her usual place next to her twin, "Daemon," she greets with a nod in her stepfather's direction.

Her mother takes time to respond to her greeting, her expression clearly denotes the anger she feels towards her daughter, "Alyssa" she simply answers before continuing to eat. Daemon does not bother to say anything, just watches her with a half amused and half calculating look that manages to make her feel uncomfortable.

Everyone is aware of the tension that prevails at that moment, even little Joffrey, who divides his gaze between his mother and sister. Alyssa takes the boy's hand in hers under the table and smiles at him before focusing on her plate.

Breakfast passes in awkward silence until her older brothers finish eating.

"Are you ready? I want to train with the bow and arrow today” says Jace.

“Yes, give me a minute and…”

"There will be no training for you today and no training from now on" Rhaenyra interrupts her in a hard voice.

Luke looks at her surprised, "But Lyssa always trains with us."

“That ends today. A princess does not have to worry about fighting. It won't be useful to her when she gets married, our battlefield is a different one" Rhaenyra points out while she caresses her belly and turns her gaze towards her daughter. "From now on you will resume your classes with your septa and you will start working on the embroidery of your bridal goods."

"Surely it is too soon for my sister to have to worry about that." Jace comes to her defense.

"I am the one who will decide that. Now go, Sir Steffon must already be waiting for you"

Her brothers seem to want to protest, but Daemon clears his throat and fixes his gaze on them.

"Come on, it is a nice day for a walk on the beach," Rhaena interjects, taking Luke by the arm, "Joffrey, come on, it will be good for you to play on the shore."

Baela and Rhaena take their siblings away, and the place falls silent again. Even the servants seem to have left them alone.

"Are you also going to deprive me of the little freedom I enjoyed?"

“I think it would be fair to say that you had too much freedom. I was permissive with you and look where it got us."

"So is this how things will be between us from now on?" Alyssa asks, trying to keep her voice steady, even though inside her, her throat seems to be knotted up.

"Did you expect it to be any other way?" Rhaenyra ask

“I was hoping my mother would be more understanding, yes,” she nods. "Yesterday you said yourself that you were an impulsive girl at my age, our situations are similar so I hoped you would not judge me so severely."

Daemon chuckles before speaking, "Your mother was not so stupid as to sleep with the enemy."

His comment starts the fire inside her. Her look gives off all the antipathy that her stepfather generates in her, “You should not be participating in this conversation. This is between me and my mother."

"Alyssa" Rhaenyra warns

"And you should be thankful that I was the one to get the news of your mistake," Daemon replies, "You'd be ruined if the information got into other people's hands."

“How convenient for me that you were the one to find out what happened!” she replies sardonically, "I suppose I should be glad to have a sinister man who watches over his own family as a stepfather. A man who years later still maintains the friendships he made with the whores of Flea Bottom that he used to visited daily."

A slap bends her face. The blow surprises her and it takes Alyssa a few seconds to register the fact that it was not her stepfather who hurt her but her mother.

Rhaenyra's violet eyes seem to be filled with madness as she gazes at her daughter. She had never laid a finger on any of her children. But a couple of harsh words about Daemon's character were enough to transform her into the jealous and impulsive being that emerges every time her husband's fidelity is questioned.

Alyssa meets her gaze, disappointment and disbelief visible on her face. Her body begins to tremble with rage as the pain experienced in the last few hours, the insults, and the injustice of her imminent future condense inside of her.

"Go back to your room, your mother needs peace and quiet" Daemon intervenes

Alyssa does not move. Her eyes remain locked on Rhaenyra and the woman's anger seems to break under the weight of her gaze because she reaches out to touch her face and takes a conciliatory step towards her.

But Alyssa backs off and won't let her mother touch her. The humiliation she's just been subjected to from Rhaenyra burns hard inside her.

"I uh... we'll talk about this later" the woman ends up saying after hesitating for a few seconds, "Go to your room"

But it is Rhaenyra who holds Daemon's arm and disappears down the corridor, leaving Alyssa alone and feeling, for the first time since she set foot on Dragonstone, that this place is no longer her home.

~~~

Vhagar roars menacingly when Sunfyre accidentally hits her with his tail.

"That old hag is as grumpy as you are today," Aegon says as he strokes the golden scales on his dragon's neck soothingly.

"No one asked you to come after me," Aemond snarls.

"I was just feeling curious," his brother shrugs and continues cuddling Sunfyre. The dragon seems delighted at the attentions of his rider, "Besides, it is you who invaded my favorite place."

That was true. The kingswood were his brother's favorite flight route. Aemond used to take Vhagar to the rocky steps of Blackwater Bay, knowing how much his dragon liked to be near the sea.

“You should stay in the Red Keep. Helaena could have the babe at any time."

His brother makes a face, "There is still a little while, isn't it?"

"The twins arrived early," Aemond points out as he draws his dagger and fiddles with it, "It could happen again."

Aegon shudders at the possibility, "I hope it is just one this time."

Aemond clicks his tongue and turns to his older brother, "One babe or two, it is your duty as a father to accompany your wife at such times."

“Duty, there is again that word you love so much” Aegon waved his hand dismissively, “We both know Helaena would not choose to have me present at that moment. The last time she wanted mother by her side. And you"

There is no bitterness or anger in his brother's voice, Aemond knows that this is not an accusation but simply a fact. He and Helaena have been close since they were children, their bond deepening after he lost his eye. Her compassionate sister was, along with her mother, an anchor he clung to during the months of pain, anger, and shame that followed the Driftmark episode.

“Jaehaerys and Jaehaera require your attention as well. They will not be little children forever, soon they will begin to notice that their father is avoiding them. Do you intend to follow the king’s example regarding to us?”

His words seem to affect him because his face pales and he stops stroking his dragon. A couple of times Aegon seems ready to say something but in the end, he just gives him a half smile and pulls the flask from his belt, “And this is my cue to leave you alone so you can keep moping around for whatever reason” replies before taking a few profuse drinks

"On the way to lose consciousness again?"

"You should do the same. You need it. You have been in an unbearable mood ever since our beloved sister left King's Landing."

Aemond does not answer, just glares at him as Aegon mounts his dragon and flies away. How he has managed to go so long without falling off his saddle considering how drunk he is sometimes, escapes from him. Although Aemond suspects that Sunfyre flies carefully when he feels that his brother is too intoxicated.

Sunfyre becomes a blur in the sky and Aemond approaches Vhagar. His relationship with his dragon is not as close as his brother's. He sometimes wonders if it is because Aegon and Sunfyre began their bond at the same time as their life while Vhagar had had different riders throughout hers.

"Or maybe you are just a grumpy old lady," he comments as he looks into the green eyes of his dragon.

Vhagar snorts and Aemond smiles as he walks once more to the edge of the hill. The kingswood stretches out before him, though it is eerily quiet, perhaps because the animals sense the threatening presence of the dragon.

Aemond appreciates the silence. After all, his intention when flying to that place had been to have the peace of mind that, as his brother had well noted, had eluded him since Alyssa had left the capital.

It had been tremendously difficult having to part with her that morning. Her lovely lady slept peacefully hugging his body, her wild curly hair covering part of her face and torso. Aemond had wanted to wake her and say a few parting words to her, but in the end, he had given up on the idea. He had been content to place a soft kiss on the top of her head and breathe in her fresh scent of vanilla and jasmine.

Part of him had been tempted to throw precautions aside and continue to sleep by her side until late in the morning when they would inevitably be found by some nosy maid or a family member, but thankfully he had restrained. That would have brought unnecessary embarrassment on her and a stain on her honor because, even if he had married her happily at that moment, he knew Alyssa was right when saying that their families would not accept their union.

It hadn't crossed his mind to dishonor her by asking her to run away with him, either. What future could await them crossing the Narrow Sea? Surely, one that did not fit the rank of both of them. Alyssa was a princess, and the mere thought of condemning her to a life on the run with no certainty or safety in strange and wild lands repelled him.

So, he had let her go. Because it was not a complete farewell. It was just a short separation that he intended to remedy once his brother was named king. Aemond knew that his grandfather and members of the council had a plan in motion to make Aegon king once his father died. He also knew of no one less deserving of the title and privilege than his older brother, but it was his birthright. The first male child should hold the crown and could not be relegated by a whim of his father.

Besides, the lords of Westeros would not support his sister’s claim. Rhaenyra was a woman unable to fight her own battles who lived sheltering behind the figure of her father and her manipulations. The throne would be better off in capable hands like the current council, who would surely keep an eye on Aegon. Aemond would make sure it would happen that way. He would fight for his brother's right and for his family. And he would ask for only one thing in return, Alyssa Velaryon.

"My bitch sister can betrothal Alyssa to any lord she likes," he whispered into the void, "But once my brother seizes power, Alyssa will return to me."

***

The Red Keep is unusually quiet that morning.

The few servants who walk the corridors seem scared as they pace with their eyes towards the ground, as if they wanted to go unnoticed. It does not take a genius to know that something serious has happened, so Aemond goes looking for his mother. He is not surprised to find her in Helaena's rooms as it is her custom to visit her grandchildren in the morning.

What does surprise him is the look of dismay and concern on Alicent's beautiful face. It does not take him long to conclude that the reason for his mother's uneasy state has to be something related with his father. She seems to realize what he asks without speaking and confirms the news with her nodding.

Viserys is dead.

A part of him knows that he should be upset by this fact, but all Aemond feels is relief. The living corpse that his father had become in recent years is finally gone and his mother is now free from having to spend her best hours caring for him. Aemond knows that it was her duty as wife to attend Viserys, but that did not stop him from brimming with rage at the thought of how considerate and careful of his father Alicent had constantly been. Attentions that he had never valued or rewarded properly. His mother had always been too good for Viserys Targaryen.

"Is Aegon king or shall I kneel before the old whore?"*

His question causes his mother to wince and flinch.

"We cannot find your brother"

Aemond follows Alicent to her rooms and sits by the fireplace, listening to her. Her mother still hopes to find a diplomatic solution to the matter of succession between Rhaenyra and Aegon, determined to avoid any fight and subsequent bloodshed. Aemond does not contradict her, though he knows that conflict is inevitable. What does strike him as strange is Alicent's renewed determination to want Aegon on the throne.

"I thought you had accepted Rhaenyra as the heir," Aemond comments, remembering his mother's words during dinner

"That was before your father confessed to me his desire to see your brother on the throne," she replies, explaining to her son the last will supposedly transmitted by Viserys.

Aemond believes in her mother. Or maybe he just wants to believe her. It does not matter, because in the end he will do everything possible to fulfill Alicent's wish to see her son on the throne.

Criston Cole enters the room and informs Alicent that they still have not found Aegon and that his grandfather has sent the Cargyll twins to search the city for him. Alicent looks desperate. She and Otto Hightower are playing their own game, both wanting to exert their influence over his rascal brother, trying to take advantage of his mailable nature into acting in ways that suit their agendas.

Even so, he offers to accompany Criston Cole dressed as a simple peasant. The matter repudiates him and not because he feels disgusted to mix with the common folks, he understands that a prince must know his people, but because of the need to resort to such unworthy tricks just to go unnoticed and catch Aegon without attracting the attention of the guards sent by his grandfather.

Aemond guides Cole to Aegon's favorite brothel as a teenager. The memories that invade his mind are not pleasant. The one time he had accepted his brother's offer to accompany him to the Street of Silk had had a great impact on him, yes, but not for the reasons Aegon would have imagined. Aemond had been sickened by the whole business of having to pay a whore to lose his virginity.

He had ended up doing it, though. His manhood had been questioned many times at his then-short thirteen years, first due to his lack of a dragon -there were those who said he was not Targaryen enough to have one- then due to losing his eye in a fight with children younger than him and ultimately for how difficult it was for his young self to find balance with the sword with only one good eye.

And then there was the matter of the scar and patch. The noble ladies were not at all subtle in regarding him with pity and loathing at his scarred face. He had listened to the comments of men and women of the court saying that his once handsome face had been disfigured and that surely no lady would want to marry him no matter how regal he was.

As much as Aemond hated to admit it, it had all taken its toll on him. So, he had agreed to receive the attentions of the prostitute that night. Of course, his hormonal adolescent body hadn't had a problem reacting to the woman's expert caresses, but his mind had been far away from that place as he'd let her control the situation. When it was all over, Aemond had left without looking back. He had never felt any desire to return to that place, and if he did now, it was only out of consideration for his mother.

“How you've grown” the woman says, causing him to look down, ashamed of his memories. He did not desire her then and he does not desire her now. At the end his insight was proving useless because the woman has no idea where his brother was.

Aemond follows Cole through the narrow streets of King's Landing, his frustration growing by the minute. He does not usually share his thoughts that openly, but after almost two hours of fruitless searching he ends up almost confessing to Criston his desire to be king.

Or maybe desire is not the most appropriate feeling. Maybe Aemond just resents his brother because he never takes his responsibilities seriously and yet everything is handed to him on a silver platter, while he constantly has to fight to get what he wants. Whatever it is, the feeling is strong enough to cloud his judgment for a few seconds when, after Aegon's pitiful attempt to escape once he is located, his brother pleads Aemond to let him go so he can live happily across the sea.

Aemond considers fulfilling his brother's whim, but luckily Criston Cole comes to them and reminds him that Alicent is waiting for him.

The mere mention of his mother is enough to make him see reason and come to his senses. Aemond abandons any short-lived hope of reign and escorts his useless brother back to the Red Keep.

***

Aemond thinks he catches the glimpse of tears beginning to form in his brother's eyes as he makes his way past the guards to reach the bottom of the stairs inside the Dragonpit platform.

The crowd is silent as they watch the regal figure of his brother, dressed entirely in black and gold, be anointed king and wear the Conqueror's crown. Helaena tilts her face towards him and Aemond takes her hand in a placating gesture. His sister knows as well as he does that Aegon does not deserve the honor, but it is still their duty to accompany and support their family.

His mother smiles as she kisses his brother's forehead and then Aegon face each member of the royal family, receiving a courtesy from every one of them. Aegon's expression is one of wonder that begins to turn to delight as he seems to be aware of the power he now wields.

Aegon turns to face the people of King's Landing, who shout and clap his name, seemingly content to have a new king to protect them and guide their pathetic lives.

Everything seems to go easily. Until it is no longer the case.

Rhaenys Targaryen emerges with her dragon from the deepest levels of the pit and instantly despair reigns among the people. The screams are not joy but terror, dust fills the room and people fight to get out as the dragon approaches Aemond and his family.

Alicent automatically places in front of Aegon and he in front of Helaena. Both willing to fight, although they know that there is not much they can do against a dragon.

In the end it does not matter because the queen who never was does not seek to kill his brother. She just wants to show her power and make it clear that she supports the cause of the black slut. Rhaenys Targaryen makes the dragon roar at them, then leaves the pit.

But the damage is done.

Aegon has lost his moment of popularity in front of his people.

Or rather, they took it away. Just as they took his eye from him.

Because that is what the blacks do, take what does not belong to them.

And they were going to pay for it.

______________________________________________________

I'm still a bit feeverish while posting this so hopefully it was ok cos it took me long to be decently happy with how it ended up. Alyssa's bit specially (Aemond is so easy to write for me!) I first intended to be a long long chapter ending in Storm's End events, but then I felt like this was the best moment to stop. Also it feels like nothing really happens in this chapter but I think it is important to state Alyssa's and Aemond's mind during this part of the story.

Do let me know what you think yeah?

[justkeepstimming]

We’re Listening

Content note: this is a very emotional post and talks about some distressing things. 

I’m in several online autism-centered parent groups. This is mainly so I can offer support and also learn – as I like learning about resources around to help advise families and friends.

Want to know a secret? I hate it.

You know how sometimes people warn you to not read the comments? It’s like that, but worse.

I understand that it’s venting, letting out some sort of pent-up rage into the void.

But – it’s very painful.

I see the posts about young children, and their parents calling them evil.

My blood pressure skyrockets and my chest hurts every time I have to read flyers shared that say “Talk About Curing Autism” or a fundraiser for the dreaded Autism Speaks. I worry as I read about how they use unsafe practices to “cure” the autism. The fad diets, the bleach and chelation, the intensive “quiet hands” ABA torture. A 40 hour work week is rough on most adults; why do it to a child?

I watch as an entire comment thread agrees together that autistic adults belong in group homes, that autistic children will never amount to anything, that autistic children should not be allowed to have an organ donation or that their deaths would “be a mercy.” I see people say that their child’s distress is “such an embarrassment” or that their child would be better off institutionalized and never allowed a voice.

I swallow my stress as I read post after post about how someone “can’t deal with this child anymore” and how “they just want to give them away.” As someone who grew up as a ward of the court, these comments sting too hard for me.

I cry because someone literally says they hate autism, and would rather have a dead child. Straight up posting “I would rather have a dead kid than this” and “I wish my kid was dead.”

Considering I just lost my autistic baby brother – don’t even try to pull that one on me.

Don’t you even dare.

__

I try to keep myself composed, because if I told people how I felt, I would definitely be banned. And even when I speak up politely, I often get shut down.

“You’re not really autistic.”

“You’re too high functioning.”

“You don’t know what it’s like!”

A few fun facts:

I am autistic.

I am not a functioning label.

I know exactly what it’s like, both inside and out.

__

I get told “you’ve never had a toy thrown at your head.”

I remember that I was given brain injury that has wreaked havoc on my nervous system and cognition. I have had many things thrown at my head, bitten, scratched, punched, and worse.

And yet, the worst abuse I have ever received was from neurotypicals. I have no anger nor bitterness toward a child who is struggling to comprehend and tame strong emotions.

I am lectured with “you don’t know what it’s like to worry about your child’s future.”

I remember crying alone hysterically the day my autistic brother went to preschool, because I was scared he would be bullied like I was.

I didn’t fear for me, because I figured I would die before I grew up anyway (my mental health was not the best). Now that I’ve somehow survived, I am terrified.

I’m not sure what happens next. I don’t know where I will be living this time next year. I don’t know how I’m going to keep afloat. And you’ll find that most of us autistics are terrified, too.

__

I listen and read every comment.

“Autism is a disease. Autism is undignified. Autism is disgusting. We need to fight and destroy autism.”

I replace each instance of Autism with a name, whether it be my own or my loved ones. I would type it out, but I do not want to.

“My child is a disease. My child is undignified. My child is disgusting. We need to fight and destroy my child.”

How cruel does that sound?

I’m so used to being called worthless and broken. Our community hears this constantly in professional and parent circles.

Even in the conference I spoke at in April, I broke down crying as I listened to the more high-profile guests.

To them, we are a burden. We are missing pieces of ourselves and are too broken. We are deficits in society. Byproducts of genetic disease or environmental toxins, things I overheard constantly during the conference. Books on the counter about the “epidemic” and “problem children.”

All around me were puzzle pieces, anger, people all shouting about the horrible autism epidemic.

My meltdown I had when I got home had nothing to do with public speaking.

It had everything to do with the fact that I felt unwanted and unwelcome at an event that was all about my shared neurology. My friends, my brothers, my loved ones, my sweet fiancé – we are told so much that we are broken. We are told we have no empathy or emotion. We are not wanted, not desired, not needed.

And people wonder why autistics have higher rates of trauma and mental illness?

_

I know autism is hard.

I am in that odd and awkward perspective, where I am the autistic person, love an autistic child, work with autistic people, and am trying to enter the professional word of special education.

I am not a stranger to the “negatives” of autism – not even the slightest. Yet, I don’t see a child with “deficits” or as a “side effect.”

I see a child who needs supports, love, acceptance, and encouragement. All people, regardless of ability, deserve kindness and to be respected as human beings.

But I can’t say that in these groups – and that’s the real shameful disgrace.

Autistic children, teens, adults – all of us are listening.

But are you listening to us?

-Courtney Johnson, @justkeepstimming

[latinotimdrake]

image text: In this issue, we'll be seeing letters written in response to BATMAN #428, also known as the infamous "Death of Robin" issue. Some of your comments have been shortened in order to make room for more of them.

Dear Denny and Company, You have no doubt received an avalanche of mail on the "A Death in the Family" series which recently ran in [all caps] Batman [end caps]. I look forward to reading the upcoming lettercols to see how extreme the reactions are to this superlative series. I myself have quite a few strong opinions on the aftermath and ramifications of Jason Todd's death, but I shall leave that to my fellow fans. My purpose in writing this time is to offer my services as one of comicdom's ranking clergymen. Jason's funeral was so brief (just one panel? Come on!), but the story had to move forward. I hereby offer my own humble reflections had I been officiating at Jason's funeral.

[all caps] Requiem for a Robin [end caps]

"The just man, though he die early, shall be at rest. For the age that is honorable comes not with the passing of time, nor can it be measured in terms of years… Having become perfect in a short while, he reached the fullness of a long career, for his soul was pleasing to the Lord. Therefore, God sped him out of the midst of wickedness. But the people saw and did not understand, nor did they take this into account." —the Book of Wisdom 4:7-8, 13-14

My dear friends, we gather here in a stunned and painful silence. Death is already such a dumbfounding mystery, but is accepted as a part of the normal cycle of life. Yet, what can one say upon the death of someone so young, someone so seemingly innocent, someone who was so full of the vigor of life? As the Scripture says, "We see, but we do not understand."

Jason Todd was an extraordinary young man. Deprived of any semblance of a normal family life, Jason somehow survived. Thinking his parents dead, Jason survived on his own. In this he showed his commitment to living. Perhaps justifiably bitter at what society had dealt him, Jason was fortunate enough to channel his anger in a more positive way. Thanks to Mr. Wayne's loving concern and attention, Jason finally found a way to not only survive, but to live life to the fullest.

But the exhilaration of being Robin too soon took a back seat to Jason's overriding need for parental love. What happened to his parents? Who was his mother? Jason had to know. Perhaps the ghosts of his shadowy past obstructed his commitment as a crime fighter. In retrospect, who can really fault him for this, in light of the glimmer of possibility that his mother might still be alive?

Jason Todd's life was tragically short. But he accomplished more in his youthful years than most of us may ever accomplish in a long lifetime. Jason wanted the truth. Jason wanted his parents' love. Live doesn't get more basic than that. Having found both the truth and his mother, Jason was not about to let these be snatched away from him again. Jason's whole life found meaning and fulfillment when he finally found his mother. Even the face of death could not crush the power of Jason's love.

Jason did good. Our faith tells us that he is now united with his parents forever in the Lord. Still, those of us left behind must sort out our grief and our feelings. Through we will certainly miss Jason, we know his enthusiasm for life and his independent spirit will always be alive in us. May we all someday find the fulfillment that Jason found in his young life.

Rest in peace, Jason Todd. More than we may ever fully acknowledge, you were the greatest Robin of all.

Sincerely in the Spirit, Father Ken Canedo Pastor St. Benedict Parish for the Deaf and Hearing Impaired 2869 Bush Street San Francisco, CA 94115

Thank you as always, Father Ken.

end text transcription.

RIP JASON PETER TODD

from Batman #431

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing viii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 1, 964

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

“I can’t believe this!” Jeonghan puffs while he drops his belongings loudly onto the table in the study lounge, causing a few other students to turn and glare.

“Would it kill you to be quiet?” Jungkook grumbles, picking at the edge of the paper of his textbook, eyes never straying away from the content of the page.

“No. I will not be quiet because I thought football bros were bros for life!” Jeonghan whines.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “You know that’s kind of concerning when you put it that way.”

Jeonghan simply waves the other boy off before he leans forward as if he has something important he has to say. Jungkook knew him well enough to know that it would either waste Jungkook’s precious study time or be something so out of the ordinary that he can’t help but be intrigued.

Jungkook shrugged and takes the chance, anyway.

“Namjoon bailed.” He deadpans. “Again!”

Jungkook stiffens ever so slightly but feigns disinterest with a noncommittal hum.

“Really.”

Jeonghan nods his head, or shook his head—it was hard to tell because he was all over the place and he seemed more displeased than anything.

“I never thought we’d lose our own captain to a girl.” He sniffs.

Jungkook sighs, already done with the conversation because somehow no one can ever mention Namjoon without mentioning you now, apparently because the two of you were hanging out much more frequently. He’s bitter. And he’s confused—because he’s attempted patching things up with you but you only would ever reply to him with curt responses than the enthusiastic ones you used to flatter him with.

JK: hey. there’s a new cafe outside of campus. U wanna go?

Smarty Pants 🐰: Im busy. Next time? :)

JK: are u free tonight?

JK: im heading to the library later. wanna meet up for some ramen first? On me!!!

Smarty Pants 🐰: sorry jungkook, meeting w administrators for pastoral care matters

Smarty Pants 🐰: Do you need help with the content?

JK: oh… it’s fine, just wanted to hang out with you. We haven’t done that in a while

JK: jimin said u finally have some free time next week? Let’s catch up! i’ll treat u to some banana bread :D

Smarty Pants 🐰: i have plans with joon. which day were you thinking?

JK: Anytime. When are you meeting hyung?

Smarty Pants 🐰: we kind of have plans every day, here and there. could I get back to you?

And that was it. The blow that Jungkook knew he deserved but couldn’t deal with. You had tried your best to avoid any personal interaction with Jungkook and he didn’t know what the fuck to do.

“They’re kind of perfect for each other, don’t you think?” Jeonghan interrupts Jungkook’s sour mood when he recalls all his failed attempts at trying to meet with you personally.

Jungkook blinks then furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Joon and your friend _____.” He knocks on the table. “Bunch of nerds together.” He adds with a snicker.

Jungkook stiffens, hands clutching his textbook tighter.

“You say that like there’s something wrong with being a nerd.” He says slowly.

“There isn’t. Really.” Jeonghan defends. “It’s just so … fitting. Captain of the football team who’s lowkey a softie and an art nerd with the overachiever on campus. Their IQ’s combined are probably in the 300 range.”

Jungkook scowls.

“Haven’t you heard of the phrase ‘opposites attract’?” Jungkook asks sourly.

Jeonghan scoffs. “Yeah. Like you actually believe in that cliche phrase. Come on—we all know you’re likely to end up with someone who’s more like you than different.”

The insinuation doesn’t sit well with Jungkook, but he can’t chew Jeonghan out for it anyway. He didn’t know the nature of your friendship with him, nor was he aware of the history the two of you shared.

“Never say never.” Jungkook shrugs.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes before taking out his laptop and settling into a comfortable position.

“I think he’s going to ask her to be his girlfriend soon.” He says off-handedly as if he assumed Jungkook gave a shit.

He did, and his heart drops to his stomach.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls out when he spots you slip past him at the foyer outside the humanities building.

You twirl around at the sound of your name being called, and your eyes widen when you spot Jungkook walking towards you with furrowed brows.

“J-Jungkook?”

Why you sounded so scared to see him, he wasn’t sure. But he knows that he’s frustrated because it’s the first time he’s seen you after the game where you and Namjoon left to hang out at the exhibition, despite his desperate attempts at calling you out to hang out with him.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Jungkook frowns, cutting straight to the chase.

You splutter for a response, and you realise that you’re basically gaping at him when you clutch your folders tighter to your chest.

“I’ve been busy, Jungkook. I told you this.” You softly remind him.

Jungkook scoffs, and he feels his mean bone grow; feeling the need to correct you because you were smart—and both of you knew that your excuse was lame.

“Really?” He says dryly. “Too busy to hang out with me but not with Namjoon?” He can’t help how bitter he sounds, especially when he’s heard from the rest of the football members; including Jimin and Taehyung that you were spending a suspicious amount of time with the captain.

You furrow your brows at him when Jungkook stares you down, waiting for a response.

“That doesn’t change the fact I was busy.” You huff.

Jungkook frowns at you, clutching his backpack tighter with his hand as he notices the way you avoid his eyes by dropping them to the ground.

“Why are you being like this?” Jungkook accuses, tone already on the offensive.

You gape up at the boy, brows scrunched in displeasure.

“Me? I’m not being anything. I told you that I was busy and we would rain check, didn’t I?”

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek, frustration pooling in his stomach. “Somehow you’re only busy whenever I want to hang out, right?” He scoffs sarcastically. “I thought we were good.”

You stiffen, knuckles turning white when you grip your belongings harder.

“We are.” You say curtly.

“No, we’re not.” Jungkook retorts. “If we were then you wouldn’t need to find shitty excuses to get out of hanging out with me.”

You open your mouth, then close it. You feel yourself grow more exasperated with Jungkook the more he can’t realise the fact that you were still finding a way to navigate the throes of your relationship with him.

“They were not shitty excuses.” You snap. “Listen, we can meet tomorrow for coffee if you really—”

“That’s not what this is about!” Jungkook exasperates, breathing out in a huff.

You purse your lips. “Then what is it, Jungkook? You came up to me and started accusing me of lying to you because I couldn’t meet up at the times you proposed.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw when he notices the way your voice gets increasingly sterner when you talk to him. It only reminds him of the way you used to chastise him when he was younger when he’d do something that was ‘immature’ but standard for a teenaged boy.

“I apologised!” He cries. “I’m sorry I was a dick before this but I’m really trying to fix things between us but you’re—”

“I’m what, Jungkook?” You interject with a frown. “I’m doing my best at healing?” You add softly. “An apology won’t erase what happened.”

Jungkook feels himself deflate, especially at the way your eyes dart away when he attempts to look into them.

“I know it won’t but I just want things to go back to normal.” He sighs.

You screw your eyes shut, finding the words to say before you look at him with such sad eyes that he nearly pulls you close just to comfort you so that he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the fact that it was his fault.

“It’s not that easy.” You whisper, gripping at the hem of your sleeves. “It may be for you but it’s not the same for me.”

Jungkook releases a sigh so loud that your eyes widen, as he attempts to think of something better to say—to offer.

“I really am sorry.” He lamely apologises, his voice sounding a lot like a scolded child.

“I know.” You nod. “But you don’t know how it feels to have …” You swallow. “Whatever. We’re good. I just need time, Jungkook.”

Jungkook furrows his brows when you turn away to stalk off, but he grabs at your elbow to turn your body to face him. Your eyes briefly make contact with the way he’s gently holding onto you before they tilt up to meet his confused gaze.

“How it feels to have what?” He pries.

You sigh, shaking off his grip. “Look. It doesn’t matter. I’m being sensitive.” You deprecate immediately.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the spite in your tone, especially when you say it so firmly and seriously when you dismiss him.

“I want to fix this—us.” He pleads desperately. “Why can’t you just be honest with me?”

As if his words set you off, your eyes snap up and blaze with the pent up fury and anger you’ve been suppressing the entire time.

“Me? Be honest with you?” You scoff. “Real fucking funny. Because when I was honest with you, you turned it on me and took advantage of my vulnerability.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “What—?”

“You want honest?” You fume. “Fine. I’ll give you honest but you better listen closely this time because I won’t be repeating myself again.” You poke into his chest, even if it’s fierce and stern, he feels the heartache pouring through. “You were my best friend, Jungkook. You were and are someone important to me and you fucked me over because you knew I couldn’t say no to you. You knew how I felt and you took advantage of that fact just so you could get what you wanted and go.”

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, confused at the information you were throwing at him.

“How you felt—?”

You cut him off again with a huff. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know. Why else did you think I did all the shit you wanted?”

“I-I don’t understand.” Jungkook stutters, head caught in a loop when you glare at him harder.

“You knew every bit of insecurity that I had and you weaponised that against me just so you could keep me close.” You say softly. “You knew, either way, I would’ve stayed because I’ve always been there, Jungkook.”

“You’re confusing me.” He deadpans, grabbing onto your shoulders so you were forced to stare at him.

He notices the glistening of your eyes as he feels his heart constrict when he realises you’re trying your best to keep your tears at bay.

“Well, you did it first so it’s only fair.” You sniffle. “You can act like shits fine because you weren’t the one who was attached. I was. So just let me have this time to myself to figure things out because I can’t even be around you without being sad, Jungkook.” You whimper.

He calls for your name but you're already furiously rubbing at your eyes as you curse under your breath as you spin on your heels to hurry away.

Jungkook gapes at you as he attempts to process what you just said, but before he can get another word in—you're leaving him to feel the weight of your words in the footsteps that draw further and further away.

[pen-observing]

request: satan helping a gn!reader who has dyslexia with their RAD language exam.

warnings: satan goes on rants about language but they’re endearing word count: 1.1k

You’ve always claimed to hate studying for exams because the human world had such a dumb school system. And granted, perhaps you’ve been a bit naïve to imagine that a magical world would bring a magic change. A world without exams? No. A world where exams were even worse? Sadly, yes.

It is wrong that intelligence becomes a numbers game whenever exam time comes around. It is wrong that suddenly those scores determine all your value and if you do not manage to succeed; you did not just simply fail – you are a failure in their eyes. That is how the self-entitled educational systems work and if you could burn them to the ground, you would gladly do so with everlasting flames.  

To you, especially, they are the biggest enemy. And while the world is certainly not fair in that regard you still have to go to the extra lengths because failing RAD classes means not seeing the brothers anymore. Failing RAD classes means willingly admitting defeat because...they’ve always said that the only reason students don’t succeed is a lack of effort.  

But you have tried! And you have done so well in all the subjects that do not deal with language explicitly! RAD, the world of immortal demons that actually know every language as soon as they are born, just has no idea how limited humans are nor do they know what dyslexia is.  

If you wanted to exceed in language classes at RAD you knew you had to ask Satan for help. Rather, he offered it himself on multiple occasions. ‘If you ever struggle be sure to come to me.’ Why shouldn’t you take him up on that offer?  

Satan did not know what dyslexia was either but he did not ask you invasive questions like unsympathetic fools did back in the human world. He was simply just there to help you because you were your own person and nothing else. Satan is focused on you.

A localized weakness within the phonologic module of the brain means that you are frustrated while looking at Latin right now.  

“I just don’t understand the point of this Satan! I really don’t get it!” “Have patience.” “Why do I have to study a dead language anyway? Makes absolutely no sense.”

Emotional fluctuations are inevitable while studying for exams so Satan is not surprised at all. He just closes his book and leans against the chair to look at you.

“Well, passing Latin is a pre-requisite to take infernal next semester. And once you take that class you will know what ‘oep mgl ao wglsnepi’ [1] means.” “See, that is my point exactly! Demons use infernal right? Why is Latin a pre-requisite? Is it just so it can torture me with the conjugations?”

Satan chuckled at your tone and put his book down on the table choosing to sit in the chair next to you.  

“I will explain.” He placed his hands on your arm rests and turned the chair around so that you are facing him. Satan seemed to have a fascination that caused him to look into your eyes every time he wanted to explain something. It made you more focused because how could you resist gazing at him?

“We say that humans have always been rather weird creatures. Infernal is the demonic language yes but how are humans supposed to know it? How are they supposed to learn infernal? They know about our existence and have a general idea about our powers even today but in the past, they knew even less. So, somehow through their train of thought, they came to the idea to use the holy language – Latin – for unholy purposes. Your kind really is rather silly sometimes. However, it worked. Some texts still describe us using Latin and we are called forth in that language too.”

You knew when Satan wanted to continue talking in that smooth voice so, instead of interrupting, you nodded your head for him to continue.

“I am going to ask you something now. I know that you believe in souls but do you believe that languages themselves have souls too?”

Do you believe that languages have souls? What kind of a question is that? It certainly sounds like something only Satan and those alike to him would ask.

“I have...never really thought about it if I am being honest...”  

“I believe that they have souls. Beautiful ones at that. You see, you call Latin a dead language but that is the primary way humans call to us. How could it be dead then? Well, I understand why you humans rush to claim so. The power it once had, the status it once had and the overwhelming use of it certainly have died but... I think the soul of the Latin language hides in all other languages. You will find a Latin form in any, you will find a Latin prophecy or saying. You repeat the roots in the languages you use today even if you are unaware of them. Latin was the language from which multiple others have been born. You see, I believe that the soul of the Latin language still lives through that. I believe that it sleeps but that it is still alive. Even when it comes to your own pursuit of Latin: Ad Astra per aspera.[2] I will continue to help you until you reach the stars.”

And he does. He reads everything that you need. He repeats them, he writes them down for you and makes sure to explain why there is regular Latin and Latin using the demonic spelling. He looks at how your hand does it and he smiles at you throughout it all. Even when you make a mistake in pronunciation - he remains gentle. 

Others like to say that Satan is quick to anger and that while he knows the dictionary definition of patience, he never shows that virtue. They’re wrong. Having Satan help you has made you realize that. He holds an overwhelming amount of patience and knowledge only reserved for you. Because of this you get a 91 on the Latin final and run to tell him. As you do, halfway down the hallway, you hear his voice coming from behind the door.  

“I find it incredibly difficult to understand why RAD takes in exchange students, why we claim to be the best in the field of education yet the teaching techniques we use are being forgotten by the human realm let alone the angels. Should we not be ashamed that we haven’t modernized anything?

The school system sucks but Satan clearly wants to make it better. He would never say it is because he realized it while helping you and you would never dare ask. It does matter. The only thing that matters which you are well aware of is: Satan will help you as long as you are willing to come to him and ask him for help.

-

[1] - it means - you are my precious. [2] - it means - to the stars through difficulties 

[seimeinotaka]

Rêverie (An OberonXGudako fic)

MASSIVE LOSTBELT 6 SPOILERS INCLUDING OBERON'S PROFILE AND BOND CE

Summary: Oberon has been unexpectedly summoned to Chaldea. He wonders why he is even there as he reminisces what happened in Avalon Le Fae. But it seems Ritsuka isn't leaving him alone, much to his annoyance.

Thanks to jellyfishy for beta-reading this!

Once again, the story has major spoilers for LB6, Oberon's profile and Bond CE, as well as important plot points of Solomon, LB1 and LB5.

There's implied one-sided love, mentions of heavy topics such as loss, and mentions of deceased characters.

"Master, Master, you've gotten better at this!"

"Thank you, Gogh! I've been practicing a lot using the tips you and Oui gave me. Even Jeanne Alter praised my background, hehe!"

"Hey, I said it was passable. Pas-sa-ble!"

Ritsuka Fujimaru has been drawing something in the cafeteria, surrounded by many servants that come and go. No one asks what she is doing, they all seem to know or if they don’t, they don’t bother to ask.

It is so bothersome. Annoying.

So many people surrounding her, like an ultraviolet lamp that attracts all the bugs. Never mind that they end up getting zapped the moment they ever dare to touch it.

The people, the sound, the merriment, it all annoys Oberon, who only watches in silence as he eats some ice cream with melon.

To be able to smile like that, even after discarding all of those stories...Oberon doesn't hide a crooked smile. In the end, the lostbelts are no more than faint dreams doomed to end, forgotten by the winners, the panhuman history citizens. Ritsuka Fujimaru isn't different. For her, it's like reading the doujin the swimsuit berserker is making. Once the pages are closed, the story ends and it ceases to exist. She can choose to forget.

Truly detestable.

-

Oberon stares and then walks away, just as Ritsuka lifts her face. She looks around, the feeling of being watched faintly breaking her concentration.

But in the end he doesn't say a word as he leaves.

-

“Hey, you keep looking at Master!” Jeanne Alter slams her hands on the table where Oberon is sitting. Said Master is working again, too enthralled talking with Gogh to notice Jeanne Alter slipping away to talk to him.

“Does it bother if I do?” He gives her a crooked smile as she huffs and scowls. Though of course her face turns slightly pink.

“Tch, of course not! It's just your stare is getting on my nerves! Wouldn't you get distracted if someone is looking at you intensely?”

“I am a creation, not a creator. I wouldn't understand what you're saying. Besides, I wasn’t looking at her or you anyway,” he says mockingly.

“Hmph, whatever you say. Leave when Master is drawing, what she is doing is very important and I won't let you make it messy.”

“Hah, a page of your little comic? As if you need a lot of care. But fret not, I am certain that with your keen insight and guidance it will be something so memorable, up to the level of the famous writers here in Chaldea.”

“You bug...Bring it, I will burn you to a crisp! Moths do like fire, don't they? Surely you will feel at home then!” Jeanne Alter laughs. “I'll let you know that it is something so impressive that it would make you cry, if you're capable of that anyway.”

Though her Saint Graph right now is one of a Berserker, it seems the insight of the Avenger still exists deep within. After all, only those who are similar can recognize each other. Fake recognizes fake. Emptiness recognizes emptiness. Hate can only recognize hate.

Though come to think about it, Ritsuka has always been writing, he noticed she kept a small book on her, during quiet times. Perhaps a diary of sorts. It wouldn’t be surprising, to record everything she has experienced, as the writer of the winning history.

-

When we die, we'll become like those stories. Our lives are stories that might be discussed and forgotten, so it's not that different from your midsummer night dream.

A dream you forget once you wake up from your slumber.

“You're a tsundere,” Ritsuka says flatly as she rests her chin on her hand. She even dares to give Oberon a shrug and a smile, as if she can tell the truth between the lies.

“Ah, you're annoying.”

“That's exactly what I'm talking about, hehe!”

An obnoxious smile continues to be on her face, and he simply looks at her with unveiled disgust and apathy.

“Why am I even here?”

“Well, you answered the call, so you can only blame yourself for that.”

“What.”

“The rayshift system call can be refused. That's an inescapable truth. You lie a lot but there are some truths in your words. Or actions in this case. You wanted to be in Chaldea, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“Ah there it is, your virtuous nature shining through. One day you'll be fooled by someone who is pretending to be your ally...ah, my bad, that has already happened, isn't that right? Maybe you should learn your lesson.”

“Ah, yes. But it doesn't change that you are here. And because you lie often, that means I can just take it whatever way I like. You'll just deny it even if I'm right. But you can't deny we get along pretty well!”

“We do not!”

“See, that's a lie!”

“Ah, I'm going to the cafeteria! Don't follow me!”

Yet we thrive on dreams, don’t we?

“How long do you think I've been in this business? Have you interacted already with some of the servants here? I can tell you don’t mind my company.”

“I quit, I'll break the contract!”

“So, one cube or two?” Ritsuka dares to offer him the sugar cube container, even holding some tongs, just to put the amount he requests in his cup.

“You really want a poisoned tea, right, wonderful Master?~”

Even if they are something that doesn’t exist, we yearn for them, even to make them a reality. No matter how impossible. No matter how painful.

That is why we can never get rid of them.

Even if we forget once the veil of dawn has ended, something of it remains.

-

“There's so much that is subjective. For example, you were Artoria's Merlin, weren't you? For a moment you were Merlin, that was her truth. There's different Merlins, I mean we have different Artorias here from different eras and classes. You were a different Merlin than the one I know.”

Ritsuka is busy trying different colors. Oui and Gogh got into a discussion on how to best get the tones she was aiming for, and they even went to do some research on their own. The reds of a forest seem familiar yet not quite right, not that Oberon was looking at the notebook.

It has to have a dreamlike feeling, that’s what she wanted, but that’s not easy to pour into a painting.

“What we see as a lie or as truth, it changes with our perception. Your lies and my truths might be different, but it's ok. In the end we have only one perspective. That's why lies and truths can mix, that's why contradictions exist. I mean, that is why you are here.”

“Here's some advice from the bottom of my heart, don't quit your day job, Master. Stick to the world saving and leave the philosophical dissertation to virtually anyone else.”

In the end, does the truth really matter?

Something that can change when you close your eyes. Something that is as fleeting as a moth's life.

Would anything change in the grand scheme of things?

To protect Ritsuka, Chaldea forged a story, one where Romani Archaman was at fault for everything that happened.

To the world that is on the verge of disappearing, that became the truth.

To everyone in Chaldea, the truth is that this girl worked harder than anyone to protect this world.

That was what Sherlock Holmes said once they met. Oberon didn’t like him, but in a way he seems familiar. Holmes is a great detective, but since he keeps everything to himself, he might be wrong the entire time until the last minute.

So it’s not like Oberon can take him that seriously.

Even so, he told him the story of the great journey before Panhuman History was at risk by the Alien God. A story of which he was somehow aware, but it seems different when it is told by someone else.

To Oberon, it was a story of selfish survival. A fitting story of those who fight in the mud to continue existing.

To Holmes, it was a story of humanity bravely fighting to avoid destruction. An unlikely event that might have inspired others. Or rather, that is how the Leonardo Da Vinci from that time would have framed it, since Holmes isn’t an author and the current Da Vinci is someone different now.

The events are there, what changes is our perception of them. Perhaps this is where truths and lies take root, the lie of today becomes the truth of tomorrow.

The lie allows the fake existence to continue even when the dream has already ended.

But in the end, everything will fade, so nothing really matters.

-

"Well, I don't know if it has a meaning, but doesn't that mean you can give it your own? Just like how I can take your lies the way I want."

"Aren't you a simplistic one? No, perhaps it is that kind of thinking that has let you get this far. What a naive Master Chaldea has. Though it helps you accomplish your goals. "

He is not sure why they are taking tea while chatting, but here he is. Perhaps it is to hide his annoyance, the Master won’t stop until she gets what she wants anyway, so he is just avoiding a pointless squabble.

"You can think whatever you want~ and in any case, even if the feelings of today will be nothing in the future, that doesn't mean they are worthless. Because they affect the you of today and that is the moment when you are alive.”

The joy of living, that is something Oberon can’t understand nor tolerate. It angers him.

Of course, he is an entity of the abyss so how could he comprehend that?

The will of self-destruction, the cessation of existence. That something is so fundamentally wrong that it must wiped out, for there is no way to fix something that crooked.

Faerie Britain wished for him because it had to be wiped away from all records, because it had no way of being salvaged.

Therefore, he can only listen to those words.

(Perhaps it is the envy of not having something? Perhaps it is the bitterness of no longer having something to do, to dream for? Or simple ennui that no matter what, in the end it doesn’t matter?)

Ritsuka ignores his silence, as she continues.

“I don't know but for someone who likes stories you don't seem like you're actually enjoying them.”

“Would you enjoy a story where you fade away like everyone in the lostbelts you have erased? Ah, my bad. Surely, as the winner you can afford to disregard those stories. Silly me, of course you would be able to believe that as the victor you can claim to be the true history. Panhuman history is in the end mankind's right path, after all, and everything else can fade into the abyss.”

Her smile is complex, almost a facade. From one angle it looks like a forlorn frown, from the other a faint smile. She plays with the spoon on her table.

"Hmmm, I wonder..."

 Dr. Roman, we finally beat the British Lostbelt. It was unlike any other places we were, and I keep thinking of Percival's words...

   I wish you were still here.

The sacrifice of someone can mean the whole world for a single person. The sacrifices of millions can become a mere statistic, a simple cold number to show how bad an event was. In the end, it doesn't matter.

What was once lost will never come back.

The void left in one's soul will never heal, it only becomes more bearable with time.

But even so, that lingering pain is the proof that someone was alive, that they left a mark on the others they met as one looks at the twinkling stars and reminisces of the never-happening-again past.

“Did you know the true opposite of love isn't hate but indifference?”

“Haaah? Perhaps you didn't think so but I was being honest about my suggestion. Thinking too much will only hurt your head. You should only focus on what's in front of you.”

“Whether you love or hate, you end up putting a lot of attention to the object of your affections, but if you're indifferent to it, it ceases to exist. Perhaps your hatred of everything is because there's something you cannot afford to lose.”

Titania was the wife of Oberon in Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. She was the only one who could accept the king's eccentric personality.

But in reality, she was just a creation for the story, a being who was never real.

Of course, there isn't a person like that in the world.

Someone who accepts a hollow entity like me.

“I don’t know, if Arjuna Alter was able to come to terms with his own humanity, well...nevermind. I was just thinking aloud.”

(Ideals are just that.

A concept not belonging to this world.

It is when you reconcile with the flawed reality that you can grasp your happiness, the one you have.)

“Heh-Hahahaha, that's rich, Master!”

This is so sickening.

Only Titania could have loved(tolerated) such an unpleasant existence. Only Titania could have loved(tolerated) a being born of hate, a destructive force whose only purpose is to rend everything to ashes.

But the fact is, Titania doesn't exist. This means no one could accept someone like him.

That is the unpleasant truth.

That is why people are entranced(poisoned) by falsehoods, lies to sweeten the body and protect the soul. It's a sweet elixir to hide from the harsh reality, the ultimate end of the journey of everyone, a pointless, worthless life. Because at the end of the dream, no matter what one has accomplished, it doesn't change the finale of this story and it is doomed to be forgotten. 

Just as the one princess from before, who also fell in love with the Fairy King. The one who tried to give fire to his cold body. But he didn't notice this, not even when her snow body had ceased to move, a protection of love.

So in the end, if it's not acknowledged, it is the same as it never had happened.

“Tell me, does it matter to you? Are you going to tell me you know how I feel? That you understand what I'm going through? Come on, tell me your important story, that everything is going to be alright as long as I'm not alone-”

“I can't. I don't know how you feel. Even if we had suffered the same, I wouldn't know how you feel.”

Her words or her smile, the same as before. He doesn’t know which but it cuts him short.

“All I know is the pain of losing someone important to me, but that's not what you're feeling, right?”

The Titania I wish for doesn't exist in this world. The Faerie Britain that gave birth to me no longer exists, even if I have accomplished my goal. 

I am merely a dream whose purpose has been fulfilled and thus, the curtain shall be down as I exit the stage.

The things I yearn for are merely dreams. Even so, I hope, because I saw it existed for someone else. For another Oberon, not the one I am.

The illusion of happiness, the hope of a love.

I don't know how it is to not be Oberon, the lying king. The king without any other purpose. The villain that has exited the stage having won, but now even that victory is pointless.

Then, why am I still here? 

“For what it's worth, I like you. You're nice company, lies and all.”

“You’re an odd one.”

“I've been told that often.”

“It's not a compliment, you have no taste.”

“You know, for Panhuman history I am the hero, ensuring our world survives. But to everyone else from every lostbelt erased...I am the worst of the worst, the villain that destroys their world.”

Ritsuka traces the notebook on her hands. The contents of the rest could be disclosed but Oberon doesn’t open any of the other pile of notebooks, so they all lie on her bed.

“Patxi cursed me for showing him a world that he thought was happier than his.”

Tears fell from her eyes as she smiled weakly. “I wonder if that was ever the right choice.”

“Panhuman history isn't the perfect utopia you can imagine. Humans seek hatred and war, there's suffering and agony. While some can lead happy lives, there's so many who can't even enjoy a warm meal or think of a future. Kirshtaria saw that, he wanted to make a better world because ours was so imperfect.”

“Why are we still going?”

“Why was ours the correct one?”

“Even now, I don't know. And I'm not sure if I'll ever know. Any justification might seem a rationalization, something to feel less guilty for killing all those people.”

“That is why I cannot forget, I cannot let the history of those lostbelts be erased. Even if I'm the only one who remembers,” her grip on the notebook tightened, “I can never forget them.”

Like a dream, one time Oberon caught sight of what she was drawing, finally reaching the dreamy red hue she long sought, depicting the autumn forest Oberon knew and hated.

The words depicting what happened in Faerie Britain, the stories of Artoria, Morgan, of Barghest, Baobhan Sith and Melusine, of Aurora, of Mike, of Ector, of Knocknarea, of him.

“Even if the rest of the world forgets, I cannot. That's why I want to record as much as I can. I caused them to disappear, remembering all of them is the least I can do.”

“That's guilt for you.”

“...Yes, I can't deny that. I've caused many people to suffer, that is why I cannot stop.”

“You're an idiot. Pursuing a fleeting dream that will only cause you to hurt, as your heart tears itself apart with these thorns you surround yourself with.”

“I guess. But someone has to do it right? But even so…

“I enjoy the moments with everyone here in Chaldea and I can say I'm happy.

But I also feel deep sadness for everything that I have done and continue to do.”

There are many contradicting truths, woven into each other.

Like overlapping threads in a beautiful(horrible) story.

“I could think Panhuman history is the correct one because it was there. There was a reason why it was chosen.”

“And if there isn't? If there is truly no meaning to your journey? That the reason your world was chosen was a mere whim of fate, a sudden lucky roll of the dice? That there is nothing special to your world that makes you worthy of the title of proper human history?”

“Then I guess I will have to make it so that there is one.”

“And if you can't?”

“Just because I can't doesn't mean I shouldn't try.”

“Trying doesn't mean you will succeed. Morgan tried her hardest, but in the end, she still failed, crumbling in despair as her Faerie kingdom burnt to ashes.”

“Well, that will come bite me when the time comes, but for now, that’s all I can do, right?”

In the end, as long as it entertains, does it matter?

What is the purpose of a story? To bring joy(tears)? To break one from that moment of boredom, of despair, and heal the soul even if just a little?

And in the end, does it even matter?

-

“I like this Saint Graph more.”

It’s been a long time since he has donned the clothes as King Oberon. Once the façade was over, once he could ascend, he has never worn anything but the colors of the depths of the abyss. Anyone else would think they are unsightly, hateful, depressing.

After all, the warmth of King Oberon’s butterfly wings makes children smile, makes people trust him. His monstruous limbs right now are not enchanting.

“I thought you were a butterfly girl. And I have been wearing these ever since, why are you even saying this up until now?”

“I just wanted to say that. I like the fluffy cape and the butterfly wings, but you sound less pained right now. And this outfit is cool too.”

In the end, perhaps Titania isn't meant to be someone who brings the sun to your eyes, with laughter so contagious that she makes the bitterness of a day go away. She's not a neverending warmth on a cold winter, nor a guiding bright star up in the dark sky. She's not the simple to your complicated, the light to your dark, the smile to your frown, the opposite of your miserable existence that brings joy to your life. An illogical being that accepts you in spite of your incompatibility. 

Was I wrong all along? 

A companion when watching a wonderful(decadent) play.

Someone who walks by your side in a crumbling world.

Someone whose company makes the poison more bearable and hell, tolerable.

Someone who simply loves me for who I am. Who gazed at the abyss, saw the void yet didn't run away.

Ah, this is so laughable, an amateur terrible tragicomedy, a hideous play with no sickeningly sweet ending.

(Perhaps it is because Titania is a wretched creature herself. Or perhaps because Titania's wings have been torn off that she understands a small fragment of you. Even if true understanding is a lie, a pipe dream. Titania has seen her own hell and can sympathize with yours, with the emptiness and resentment you hold. Not fearing it, not judging it. Just accepting you as the flawed existence you are.

If that is the case, then there is nothing beautiful about Titania.)

But even so...

"...You are..."

"Did you say something?"

"No, nevermind."

Ritsuka smiles as Oberon looks away. He grumbles about the cramped space as he hoards the bed, swatting a mosquito away while she writes in her diary. The boring stories she writes that he doesn't care about even if his fingers have traced those letters.

But even so, he stays.

Ah, love is a bothersome thing.

-

Thank you for reading!

Now, OH BOY WHERE TO BEGIN. Title comes from Debussy's Rêverie. I wanted to play with it, seeing that Oberon's Bond CE is called Pavane for a Dead Princess, which is the title of a melody by Ravel. I am sure it is no coincidence. Both Ravel and Debussy were considered the cornerstones of Impressionism in music, however, they both HATED being labeled like that.

Pavane for a Dead Princess is one of Ravel's solo compositions for the piano. However, unlike what the title implies, Ravel specifically said that it wasn't meant to be a melody of a funeral, but he wanted to evoke the idea of a princess dancing to the pavane. However, some people didn't really listen to him. So in this case, I think that rather than to see Oberon's CE as a funeral to Blanca, it is a way to celebrate her story, even if it didn't end on the happier note we would have wished. You can listen to it here

Now Rêverie is by Debussy and it's meant to feel like a dream, hence the name. The melody became a massive hit, though Debussy later hated this piece because he felt that he had written better pieces but this one was the one that made him famous. Since it was written when he was young, he felt he was still lacking a lot, but the melody became one of his most popular compositions nonetheless. I think that story ties nicely with what we perceive vs what others perceive. You can listen to it here

Now onto the actual fic, I had this vague idea when part 3 was released, especially after all the spoilers about Oberon's true identity. I really wanted to get him, and I was super lucky. In between getting him, his profile and bond lines being translated, I just got possessed to write this as a way to honor and thank him for coming home AND to give him a sort of happy ending after Avalon.

Oberon in that bed is thanks to that comic on Twitter where he is eating chips without any care and the kind reminder of his voice lines that in spite of him constantly complaining, he spends an awful lot of time on our room. Hehehe.

Best of luck if you are pulling for him! And once again, thank you for reading!

[firelxdykatara]

gods, ok, apparently i’m not done.

atla fandom? we need to have a chat.

(....ok that made me sound pretentious as fuck. and maybe i am, but this needs to be said, cause i’m getting....real, real tired of a Certain Corner of this fandom and as a result, this is gonna be a discourse-heavy post so feel free to scroll past if that’s not your bag. as always, my salt posts all carry the catch-all #salt for ts tag, which you’re free to blacklist/filter at your leisure. i’m Very Annoyed at the moment, which will probably come through in the following post, so just. yknow. be prepared for that. or ignore it, that’s perfectly valid too.)

under a cut bc i do care for my followers and their sanity i swear lmao

there’s a real serious issue in this fandom with not understanding what queer terminology actually means or implies, especially when applied to a fictional narrative.

i’m specifically talking about ‘coding’, here. (if i were in a more meme-y mood, i might have said ‘the atla fandom found out about the term “gay-coding” and haven’t shut up since’.)

to the people who say ‘zuko is gay-coded’, i have this to say: you keep using that word. i do not think it means what you think it means. because he isn’t. i’m sorry, but he’s not! and the fact that this is such a prevalent claim in this fandom is distressing, bc it says to me that none of y’all know what gay-coding is or when and how to apply it! please, i’m begging you, go and look up these terms and what they mean and when they should be used before actually trying to plug them into your critical analysis, because when you misuse them and then call other people delusional for disagreeing with you it casts a pall over the entire fandom and is, i think, the root of some of the worst toxicity this fandom has to offer.

and the thing is, there are cases where gay-coding would apply--for instance, a couple series that are famous for queerbaiting their audience by coding their main characters as being attracted to one another (sometimes even despite their openly stated sexualities) come to mind, but those shows bare no similarities at all to atla and how zuko was written and portrayed! (and it would be funny, if it weren’t so obnoxious and infuriatingly wide-spread throughout the fandom, because the only queer couple we actually seen on-screen in either show wasn’t even queer-coded in any respect, and they’re canonically bi! [yes, i’m shading korrasami, or more accurately i’m shading bryke for refusing to give ka the build-up and development they deserved].)

this absolutely isn’t to say that headcanoning zuko as gay is a bad thing or invalid in any respect. (although the tendency for zukka shippers to do this specifically to keep zuko away from katara and/or invalidate his canon relationship/attraction to girls is more than a little eyebrow raising. especially since sokka is usually allowed to be bi, bc fans have no problem letting sukka stay in the background bc it’s no real threat, while jetko shippers are happy to have both boys be bi. [possibly bc katara is less a threat to jetko bc jetkotara is every bit as valid as any single ship between the three, but zukka can’t exactly let katara join in, and if the potential exists for zuko to be attracted to her then canon giving them the far deeper emotional bond becomes a threat to zukka’s existence? idk for sure--you be the judge.]) i prefer to hc zuko as bi (and always have, long before the atla renaissance), bc i don’t think zuko being attracted to boys is outside the realm of possibility, and it isn’t a threat to my ship since zuko&katara had a deep and emotional bond in canon that is very easy to develop further into something that becomes explicitly romantic--but the headcanon itself isn’t really the problem (although what it’s often in service to can be).

it’s the strange insistence that this is the only way to read his character, bc he was coded that way and so anyone who doesn’t see it must be too straight to understand--and i really shouldn’t have to say why and how that is so incredibly fucking insulting. (the ‘hetero lenses’ comment wasn’t cute when it came from bryke six years ago, and the same sentiment being repackaged and delivered by zukka shippers ain’t cute now.)

calling zuko gay-coded not only demonstrates ignorance as to what the term actually means, and how to usefully apply it in critical analysis, but also validates the frankly bullshit insertion of institutionalized homophobia in the world of atla where it was neither needed, nor wanted, nor ever hinted at in canon. as a queer woman i’m still infuriated by one fucking comic panel shoving institutionalized and systemic homophobia into a world where it was entirely unnecessary (and doing this in the first installment of the franchise showcasing a queer relationship??? making korra and asami worried about ‘coming out’ when they could have just gone on to have cute adventures together and tell people ‘hey we’re dating’ and have everyone else be ‘that’s awesome =DDD’ [because it is, in fact, possible to just have a world without homophobia i promise!!!!!] double yikes, i’m still pissed at bryke about it), and i doubly hate that ‘zuko is gay coded’ has become so widespread that ‘ozai hates him bc he’s gay’ has become a staple in that part of the fandom.

not only does making zuko gay and implying (or outright stating) that ozai hated and abused him because of it completely undermine zuko’s character arc by making his abuse about his sexuality rather than ozai’s toxic pride and anger at seeing himself reflected in his ‘weak’ son, but it comes very close to outright stating that abuse and trauma are inherently gay experiences, and they aren’t!!! they really aren’t, i promise!!!

abuse and trauma narratives exist outside of ‘my dad hates me because i’m gay’. and, quite frankly, there are MORE THAN ENOUGH queer trauma narratives out in the world. we do not need to start trying to retroactively make them canon in a series where they didn’t exist! if you’re gay and see yourself in zuko and project your own experiences on him, that’s understandable and valid. that does not make zuko gay-coded. and honestly, the insistence that he is makes very little sense to me, because you’re essentially trying to give the show credit for work you put into interpreting the characters! why would you want to do that? why not own your own headcanons and take credit for them, rather than insisting they are canon and everyone else is wrong for not seeing them??? like, i’ve said before that i’ve always headcanoned zuko (and katara) as bi, and even support it with my interpretations of evidence from the show, but the difference between ‘i think zuko is bi’ and ‘zuko is definitely gay-coded’ is that i know that bi zuko is my interpretation of canon, and that it is work i’m putting into the show that wasn’t actually intended by the creators/writers, no matter how much sexual tension i read into the jetko swordfight.

and like, zuko’s character arc doesn’t actually parallel a queer one all that well to begin with. it’s easy enough to do the work and twist it sideways just enough to make the general points fit, but the fact is, zuko’s arc is not one of self-discovery. it’s not one of coming to understand something fundamental about himself that he can’t change, that he was hated for, and coming out to his father in a dramatic confrontation where he shows that he understands himself and doesn’t need his father’s acceptance to be fulfilled.

zuko’s arc is actually one of trauma and healing. and those can (and often are--like i said, there are more than enough queer trauma narratives in the world, atla really doesn’t need to be one of them) be part of queer narratives, for sure! but they aren’t uniquely queer. and zuko’s confrontation with ozai during the eclipse doesn’t read like a ‘coming out’ at all. (yes, i’ve seen that post. yes, i rolled my eyes and moved on, bc unlike some people, i’m capable of not clowning on correctly tagged posts i disagree with.) zuko is specifically confronting ozai over his abuse, because his arc wasn’t about discovering anything fundamental about himself (and therefore realizing that ozai was hating him for something he couldn’t change)--it was about realizing that he was not at fault for the way his father treated him. it was also about realizing that the fire nation was broken and corrupt at its core, and that his father was an aspect of that he needed to break away from so that he could help the world begin to heal.

he says it himself:

Zuko: No, I've learned everything! And I've had to learn it on my own! Growing up, we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilization in history. And somehow, the War was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing lie that was. The people of the world are terrified by the Fire Nation. They don't see our greatness. They hate us! And we deserve it! We've created an era of fear in the world. And if we don't want the world to destroy itself, we need to replace it with an era of peace and kindness.

making this about zuko being gay and rejecting ozai’s homophobia, rather than zuko learning fundamental truths about the world and about his home and about how there was something deeply wrong with his nation that needed to be fixed in order for the world to heal (and, no, ‘homophobia’ is not the answer to ‘what is wrong with the fire nation’, i’m still fucking pissed at bryke about that), misses the entire point of his character arc. this is the culmination of zuko realizing that he should never have had to earn his father’s love, because that should have been unconditional from the start. this is zuko realizing that he was not at fault for his father’s abuse--that speaking out of turn in a war meeting in no way justified fighting a duel with a child.

is that first realization (that a parent’s love should be unconditional, and if it isn’t, then that is the parent’s fault and not the child’s) something that queer kids in homophobic households/families can relate to? of course it is. but it’s also something that every other abused kid, straight kids and even queer kids who were abused for other reasons before they even knew they were anything other than cishet, can relate to as well. in that respect, it is not a uniquely queer experience, nor is it a uniquely queer story, and zuko not being attracted to girls (which is what a lot of it seems to boil down to, at the end of the day--cutting down zuko’s potential ships so that only zukka and a few far more niche ships are left standing) is not necessary to his character arc. nor does it particularly make sense.

(and before anyone brings up his date with jin--a) he enjoyed it when she kissed him, and b) he was a traumatized, abused child going out on a first date. of course he was fucking awkward. have you ever met a teenage boy????)

anyway, uh, that was a lot of words, so have a tl;dr: zuko is not gay-coded. there is nothing uniquely gay (or even uniquely queer) about his character arc or characterization, and he was certainly not coded gay in an attempt to sneak a queer character past the censors. if anyone involved with atla was gonna try that, it would’ve been in lok, and as established, they didn’t even manage to queer-code the actual queer relationship before the last few minutes of the final episode. headcanoning zuko as gay is absolutely fine (though if it’s only done to keep him away from female characters he may otherwise be attracted to, that smells more like misogyny than anything else), but insisting that this reading is the only one that makes sense, and anyone who doesn’t agree must be straight (hello, queer woman here making this insanely long thinkpiece) is very much not.

ship what you like, but stop trying to invalidate other ships and other interpretations of characters just to make your ship seem more plausible. it’s really not a good look.

[cupcakes-and-pain]

Another short chapter and the introduction of Kanoa. Enjoy :)

CW: Slave whump, dehumanization, it/its pronouns, strong language, fear of punishment, fear of death, mention of past death idolization

———

Runt was finishing up straightening its room when it heard voices in the hallway and neither of them was Master. It was rare for people to come down this way, considering it was almost exclusively storage. A logical space to store a punching bag when there is no anger to be let out, yet it still made Runt sad somehow.

At least Master checked in on it every day, even if the visits were extremely scary and full of tests. At least it wasn’t forgotten about.

But back to the voices, it had heard them before, but only once, about two or three weeks ago. They were the ones who originally made the offer to buy Runt. Runt knew it was very bad, but both then and now it couldn’t help but listen in on their conversation.

“Well, I still don’t understand why the fuck we should have to deal with those power breakdowns.” One snapped, “Getting a slave just feels like avoiding the problem.”

“Watch your language.” The second, much calmer voice said. This man seemed to be constantly calm, even in the stressful haggling of prices. Runt had originally hoped that he would be its Master.

“But yes,” the calm man went on, “I completely agree with your sentiment. Ethan being on the team is a huge risk, one I rather not take. But in the end, it is not you, nor I, nor Hazel who gets the final say. It’s all up to Jeni since she’s the leader, and as she sees it, whatever Hazel has got planned is worth the risk.”

These men did not like Master? But wasn’t everyone here on a team? Shouldn’t they get along? And, wait, are they here punish Runt because of Master?

“But what if it isn’t worth the risk?”

“Then let’s hope whatever deities are out there merciful, because if Ethan’s power meltdowns are getting worse and more frequent, the base won’t survive much longer, and likely with us inside.”

“Oh fuck. If you don’t think we’ll survive, then redhead-“

“Language, seriously. And he’s as good as dead. I don’t know if he’ll make it to the end of the month. After all, you saw what happened to our ping pong table.”

Runt could hardly breathe. It felt like the world was closing up around it, pressing in on it, squeezing the life out of Runt. As good as dead? Would Master really kill it if he needed it so badly? Of course, he couldn’t really control his actions when he was in a rage, but still… it didn’t want to die. It didn’t want to die. It had wished to die so many times while with so many different Masters, but now, when it was a real, true possibility- it couldn’t do it. This couldn’t be happening. It was just a coward, it knew it, just like the master before the last always said. Things were never good when it thought about previous homes, but there were some that just never left Runt alone.

Runt didn’t know what a ping pong table was, but it knew it didn’t want whatever happened to that happen to it.

Maybe it can convince Master to put precautions in place to keep it alive. It knew it didn’t deserve such kindness, but it had to hope. It had to stay alive.

———

Tag list: @sideblogformindtrash @darklyria @lonelyboxpet @haro-whumps @whump-me-all-night-long @spicy-wendigo @maracujatangerine @kim-poce @newbornwhumperfly

[astaroth1357]

How to Calm Your Demon Boyfriend; Vol 2

So You Pissed Him Off, Have You?

Notice: Due to an impending lawsuit for libel and misinformation, Mammoney, Inc. has filed for bankruptcy. All past guides from their company have been revised and re-released. All future printing will be handled Solo Man, Press.

Oh? Is there trouble in your devilish paradise? Well, there’s bound to be a spat or two between lovers but things can get... complicated if one half of your pair could easily wipe out a nation. Attempting to calm down your demon can be tricky, however in this volume of How to Calm Your Demon Boyfriend we will be covering the best methods available for you to do just that! With our instructions and a deft touch, you’ll manage to avoid your boyfriend’s hellish rage and get right back to enjoying that tender, sacrilegious relationship you’ve come to love!

This volume only covers if your demon boyfriend is mad at YOU. If there is SOMEONE ELSE making him mad, please consult Volume One!

Lucifer’s mad at You

You are in a very tricky situation so treat your next actions with the utmost care…

First, ascertain who is at fault for what has occurred. If it’s you, then figure out the severity. A minor infraction can be smoothed over easily enough with some explanation and sincere apology.

More severe breaches of trust will be harder get past. Plead your case but don’t attempt to excuse your actions. Acknowledge fault and, again, apologize. If he seems receptive, attempt to touch him in some way like on the hand or arm but no higher. This a literal demonstration of your attempt to reconnect.

This is the best that you can do for now, but he should acknowledge your efforts as long as you approached it correctly.

If it’s his fault… as far as he’s concerned it’s still your fault, unfortunately. It’s the pride in him speaking. 

Ask him what he believes you’ve done wrong and assess from there. Some things may be better to give a brief apology to, but no more. You don’t need to explain yourself for something you didn’t do. It may be best to leave him for a few hours after this and let tensions cool.

If the accusation is too egregious, you have the option to not apologize at all. This will likely anger him further if you give no explanation, though. Explain why you don’t think you should have to say sorry, then leave. Call for his brothers if you need someone there to intervene.

Now you wait. Unfortunately, it's an inevitability. Lucifer will need time to process and do a post-mortem on what happened. If he was truly the one at fault, he’ll acknowledge it to himself but never admit it out-loud. He may extend an olive branch in the form of a gift (the size and expense of which will be directly proportional to how much he messed up) but that will be it.

If you forgive him, then life can return to normal. If not, consult our other material: Can I Breakup with My Demon Boyfriend?

Mammon’s mad at You

It is first important to discern between his usual “anger” and actual anger.

If you see any of these signs: Blushing, stuttering, overly defensive denials, general tsundere-ness then you are likely only dealing with “anger.” Feel free to tease appropriately.

If these signs are not there then something is very wrong. Find out what it is, he will be forthright with a little persistence. (i.e. bug him until he says something. He will likely want to tell you anyway)

Attempt to remedy the problem as quickly as possible. This will no small matter. A truly upset Mammon should not be ignored.

If you have done something wrong, an apology may be in order. Do be sincere if you can because Mammon will appreciate the effort.

Cheer him up with either compliments or physical contact, head pats and cuddles work most effectively. If his face is red, though, you’re likely on the right track in general.

He isn’t one to hold a grudge so this should settle any brief irritation that’s derailed your relationship. Take care not to upset him this much again in the future.

Leviathan’s mad at You

Again, he’s probably jealous but now he’s going to be jealous and possessive. Admittedly, not the best combination.

Stay. Calm. If he’s already hysterical then adding onto the situation won’t do anyone any good. Patience may be difficult to hang onto, but it’s crucial to getting through this on the other side.

Physical contact is still important but NOT TOO EARLY. If he has his guard up he may just slap away your attempts to touch him.

Chances are he’s already built up a narrative in his head. This will not be easy to combat, especially if his suspicions aren’t true.

Denial will be tricky. You don’t want him to accept his false narrative as truth, but there’s going to be only so many times you can say, “No, that didn’t happen” before he stops believing you.

Deny his story first, firmly and with no room for doubt then redirect the conversation to asking why he’s so worried about it. Get to the heart of what’s making him feel so self-conscious and start soothing him from there. He’ll be feeling vulnerable, so a delicate touch is necessary.

NOW is the time for physical contact. He still needs to know you’re there so you should get as close to him as possible. He’ll probably be holding onto you pretty tightly. He won’t mean to bruise you if he does. 

Hold him close and don’t even think about letting him go until he’s ready. He needs to know that you'll stay with him even if this is what he has to offer. Your embrace is not just reassurance, it’s a promise. I hope you're prepared to keep it.

For more on how to comfort Levi, please seek out: How to Comfort Your Demon Boyfriend.

Satan’s mad at You

Oh my, aren’t you in a pickle? The focus should be on the immediate concerns first, then the long term. Don’t try to resolve both at once.

The immediate concern is that you have a very ticked off Wrath in front of you and he will make his displeasure known. Apologize. Apologize now. Is it actually your fault? Who knows. That's a long term concern and you should focus first on getting him to calm down fast.

Satan will not listen to reason right now, especially not if you're the only one offering it so don’t even try.

Do not, I repeat, DO NOT attempt to touch an angry Satan. He's going to be far too gone for cuddle time to smooth things over.

You should give him space. He likely doesn't want to be mad at you and is very aware of just how dangerous this situation is for you both. If you take a step back, he'll do what he needs to in order to calm himself down (which is probably going to involve property damage of some kind but better it a bookshelf than you).

Wait until he is no longer shouting, then you may approach and carefully plead your case. You better have some airtight logic if you want to convince him he's actually the one in the wrong about something, but if he is he will apologize.

Of course, if you are at fault then you should apologize and attempt to explain. Even if you don’t have the best justification, you can still win him back if you can prove you had good intentions.

Unfortunately, even if he understands your reasoning he may still be a little miffed... Speaking candidly, if there's still residual anger left it may be best just to f*ck it out. This is not a joke, it's a legitimate way to redirect lingering negative emotions in a relationship. So have at it, I suppose. Just have a safe word ready because you'll need it.

Asmodeus’ mad at You

Again, reason and logic will fail you, especially at the very start. He WILL be upset and he WILL lash out. Likely verbally.

DO NOT engage in a fight of insults with Asmodeus. Not only will you lose but the situation may escalate to the point that your relationship will suffer permanent damage.

Remain calm, but you need not take the abuse. You are well within your right to tell him that you will leave the room if he does not cease the hostility. Don’t mean this idly either because your presence will be very important to Asmo. He hates to be ignored.

If you must leave, do so. Don’t turn back even if he pleads. Wait for him to come to you, because he will, and then a civil conversation can commence. Apologize if necessary.

After his initial anger has passed, Asmo will be very quick to feel remorseful. Despite his ferocity, he should be rather forgiving (at least to you anyway).

He will want make-up sex, for his own comfort if nothing else, but as always he will not force the matter. It may be much sweeter than usual, though, because that’s his way of saying “I’m sorry.”

Beelzebub’s mad at You

Oh dear.... You have either denied/stolen his food, hurt his family, or somehow just really ticked him off...

If you denied him food, get more.

If you hurt his family, plead for mercy.

If you’ve just really, really ticked him off, I’m not even sure what you did but you probably ought to apologize and maybe rethink your life choices... They must not be very good.

Belphegor’s mad at You

This will happen, but again Belphegor is pretty lazy. He’s more likely to give you the silent treatment than he is to blow up in your face.

Your challenge now is to get him to talk to you. Unlike with Mammon, he won’t be itching to say anything so a slight nudge isn’t going to cut it.

Start by trying to be frank about the situation. Attempt to sit him down and say that you wish to talk things out. Be empathetic, approachable, and sincere. This should elicit at least some attention from him for most issues.

If he intends on holding out further, then you have already done your part to the best of your ability. Leave the door open to that discussion, but go about your day until he’s ready for it. It won’t be easy, nor will it feel good, but it’s important to set boundaries and not allow his silence to punish you when things could be worked out more productively.

I assure you, Belphie does love you and he will miss you. It may take a little time, but he will eventually approach you to have that talk. Resolve what happened together and then things can return to normal, cuddles and all.

If you are looking to calm down your demon before he hurts someone else, please consult Volume One: Tame Demons, Save Lives!

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

Cinderquil

Word Count: 4900+ (oneshot)

[AO3]

Genre: Fluff/Friendship

Characters: Cinder Fall, Cinder’s Pokemon

Summary: Pokemon AU. Ever since they were young, Cinder's only Pokemon has been her starter, Ella the Houndoom. She is proud of her position as her Trainer's sole companion and sees no reason for anything to change, thank you very much. So when Cinder brings home a new addition to their team, Ella's world is turned abruptly upside down.

Warnings for implied/reference child abuse and animal abuse

Inspired by this art by @astoria00!

~0~

Ella, like her Trainer, had no concept of downplaying her own importance.

She considered herself the paragon of partner Pokemon. Ever since she was a little Houndour, tripping over her own paws and barely able to cough out a flame, she had always done her best to look after Cinder. The girl she had grown up with was whip-smart and strong, as hotblooded as any Fire-type, and Ella would follow her commands without hesitation. 

That being said, she didn’t always understand what was going on in Cinder’s head. For instance, coming to this unfriendly and unfamiliar region on the orders of that shadowy organization. Sure, the safe house they’d been provided was comfortable, a small and cozy cabin in the woods, but, Ella wondered, at what cost? She had been alone for hours. 

Ella watched the thick forest around her with all the alertness of a hunter, gnawing at the large Grumpig ear she had been given. It was not hard work, guarding the cabin while Cinder was out on her mission, and it was clear that Ella was better suited for the job than Talonflame. The Flying-type had been lent to Cinder by her new leader for easy transportation, and while the supercilious look in his eyes got Ella’s hackles up, she didn’t feel threatened by the new addition. Talonflame was, if not temporary, nothing more than a utility. 

Ella was Cinder’s only Pokemon. As for Ella herself, she disdained the company of both humans and other Pokemon alike. None of them had ever done anything for her: all she needed was her Trainer.

It was growing dark, and she could smell impending rain in the air — not unusual, in this awful cold and wet region — and was glad when she caught Cinder’s scent alongside it, growing steadily closer. She did not move from her spot on the front porch, but her ears perked up and her gaze homed in on the speck of red in the distance. Small as it was, it stood out against the dark greens and cloudy greys that surrounded them. 

Ella didn’t scramble up and run to her as she would have in the past — she had learned professionalism alongside Cinder as well — but her shoulders relaxed and her barbed tail flopped back and forth against the wood. Finally, her Trainer was home and things were the way they were supposed to—

Wait a blasted minute. 

What was that?

“Hello, Ella,” Cinder greeted her as she stepped out of the trees, as if everything were normal. “Did you miss me?”

Ella jumped to her feet with a furious bark, the Grumpig ear clattering down the stairs. Her tail stood straight out and her head reflexively jerked up and down, showing off her horns to the tiny, dirty, squirming thing that Cinder was carrying into their house. 

To the Cyndaquil’s credit, she got the picture immediately. She didn’t even try to flare up her back before emitting a loud squeak and attempting to leap out of Cinder’s arms, presumably to scurry back to whatever hole in the ground she had come from.

Unfortunately, instead of coming to her senses and letting it go, Cinder held Cyndaquil tighter, close and protective. After a few seconds, she curled up timidly against her chest. 

“Shh, relax, it’s okay. Ella’s not going to hurt you.” She narrowed her eyes warningly at Ella as she walked up the stairs and into the cabin. “Ella is going to be a nice girl and hear me out.”

No, Ella damn well would not. Not without standing her ground and making her case. She followed Cinder inside growling and bristling. 

Once the door was shut behind them, the one Pokeball at Cinder’s belt burst open, and Talonflame flapped across the living area to his perch next to the fireplace. His beady black eyes watched them with unusual interest, and Ella resented the sense that she was putting on a show for him.

What’s gotten into you?! she barked at her Trainer, who had begun trying to coax Cyndaquil out of her defensive ball. You said all you needed was me! Why would you do this without even asking me?

True, all Cinder could hear was “Houndoom Houndoom Houndoom Houndoom,” but after all this time, Ella knew she was getting the gist of it. 

“I realize that this is sudden,” Cinder began, her tone deliberately calm and even. “But I couldn’t exactly leave her there and run back to check with you. And we can’t just toss her out now that I’ve brought her here.”

Ella snorted. Very convenient for both of them. And how soon can I expect to be replaced? Was I that shameful of a starter?

With her free hand, Cinder reached over to grab a towel from the kitchenette and started rubbing the dirt from Cyndaquil’s damp fur. She let out a muffled squeak at the sudden touch, but didn’t uncurl.

“I expected to run into some people while I was out, that wasn’t the problem. There’s plenty of towns and cave systems around these mountains to look through. I didn’t plan on actually battling anyone, but apparently somebody on the trails had something to prove. One of those rich boys — you know the type, of course.”

Yes, they had met more than enough of those in their time. One of Cinder’s new teammates even seemed like one all grown up, complete with an equally smug Toxitricity by his side. Ella didn’t relax at all — in fact, her shoulders tensed up more — nor did she soften her accusing glare, but she did cease growling.

“So he won’t take no for an answer, won’t even break eye contact, and I decide that if he insists, I might as well teach him a lesson. He had three other Pokemon, and they were high-level but sloppy. I’d bet money that he didn’t catch them himself, that they were gifts or trades that he had no idea how to actually deal with. Talonflame made short work of them, but then — hm?”

Cyndaquil had been starting to lift her nose tentatively out of her defensive ball, and only now that she wasn’t too frightened to think did she notice the running slow cooker and containers of Pokemon food on the counter. The realization made her pick her head up and squeak loudly, and the smile that broke out on Cinder’s face was of the sort that Ella hadn’t seen in years.

“Are you hungry? I know, you’ve had a long day...” She dug around in the box of PokePuffs — not strictly belonging to Ella, but who else’s would they be? — and pulled out a Basic Spice to offer it. “Here, you can have this, can’t you?”

Cyndaquil sniffed the treat, and gnawed at it a little, but didn’t move to take or actually eat it. Cinder sighed. 

“Well, I had hoped so, but I guess not.” 

She gently pushed the treat into Cyndaquil’s stubby arms until they gripped it, and then knelt to set the tiny Pokemon on the floor. Ella tilted her head as she scowled down at her: what was the matter with her, stumbling around like that? Had she hit her head somehow?

Cinder shot Ella a warning glance that, in Ella’s mind, was completely uncalled for. “Be nice.”

Ella huffed, and stalked deliberately closer. Cyndaquil paused in trying to figure out what the PokePuff she held was, and looked worriedly between the human and Houndoom glaring at each other. Once Cinder was satisfied that Ella would not, in fact, rip the smaller Pokemon’s head off like some kind of feral beast, she turned around and started going through the cabinets and minifridge. 

“I did beat his whole team, as far as I’m concerned,” she went on with her story as she retrieved the big saucepan and a carton of milk. “All the ones who were fit for battle. But when I held out my hand for the money he owed me, he went purple in the face and insisted that we weren’t done. He pulled another Pokeball out of his pocket, and sent her out. And of course she had no idea what was going on, did you, dear?”

Cyndaquil blinked, puzzled, and nearly tripped over her own chubby legs. Ella’s anger was very quickly giving way to confusion of her own; she knew that the average starter Pokemon wasn’t wildly powerful, to match its equally inexperienced Trainer, but surely they started at at least level one?

“No, she didn’t. I don’t know what garbage breeder they got her from, but she was definitely not ready to be separated from her mother. Even Talonflame backed off.”

Something finally clicked in Ella’s head, and her eyes went wide. She lunged forward, claws clacking on the hardwood floor, to sniff vigorously at Cyndaquil, who nearly fell over backwards in surprise. Under the rainwater and dirt, the scent of juvenile pheromones was unmistakable.

From up on his perch, Talonflame chirruped, amused. It really took you this long to notice? Do you usually growl at baby humans, too?

Ella was too stunned to even bark back. True, she didn’t spend any time around other Pokemon, but she should still have known...

“Obviously this spoiled brat had no business keeping her in his care,” Cinder said, stirring vanilla and cinnamon into the simmering pan. “But fortunately, it was very simple to set up an exchange.”

Talonflame chirruped, amused. Your Trainer throws a mean Mach Punch, Ella.

Cinder smirked at the fresh memory. With her free hand, she reached into her hip pouch, pulled out the shards of a shattered Pokeball, and tossed them into the trash can. Ella heard muffled clinks, and caught a glimpse of a coin purse that definitely was not theirs. Or, well, it hadn’t been before.

“I think it’s about time we start expanding our team, anyway. We’re in service to a very powerful leader now. We should be meeting a higher standard.” She glanced at Ella while digging back in the cabinet for the Vespiquen honey, and amended, “An even higher standard. I know this was a shock to you, Ella, and I don’t expect you to babysit her. But I couldn’t imagine a better example for her than you.”

Well. Ella couldn’t argue with that. She considered Cyndaquil for a moment more, watched her twitch her nose curiously up at her, and then ducked her head down to take the smaller Pokemon’s scruff in her mouth. As expected, she was still young enough that she went limp in her teeth.

Cinder blinked, but didn’t move to stop her. “Ella? What are you doing?”

Ella didn’t respond; she was already carrying Cyndaquil over to the living area. She laid down on the rug, deposited Cyndaquil between her front legs, and set about licking her short, downy fur. She wasn’t sure how Typhlosion mothers usually groomed their young — she barely remembered how her own mother had done it — but this felt right. 

Cinder smiled and returned her attention to the pan on the stove. Cyndaquil, for her part, didn’t seem upset, but she was certainly confused.

Who... She was cut off by Ella’s wide tongue sweeping over the top of her head, but tried again. Who are you?

My name is Ella, she informed her, making sure to get the back of her neck. Cinder’s hasty rub with the towel hadn’t done anywhere near enough to rid her of the residue on her fur, and it certainly hadn’t done anything for the scrapes on the skin underneath. I am your teammate now. 

Oh. Cyndaquil squirmed around some more until she could look up at Cinder’s back. That lady’s nice. And warm.

Her name is Cinder. She is your Trainer, and you should do as she tells you.

My Trainer’s sleeping on the ground back there, Cyndaquil said with innocent bluntness. I don’t think he got up yet. 

Talonflame let out a deliberate, throaty laugh, and Ella shot a warning glare over her shoulder before returning to her ministrations. 

You can forget about him, she insisted to Cyndaquil. All you need now is us. 

Perhaps it was only because Cyndaquil was too young to fully grasp the reality of her new situation, but she didn’t question it any further. Instead, she settled down between Ella’s front legs and continued to watch Cinder make her dinner, submitting to a thorough grooming as she did so. 

Talonflame tilted his head back and forth as he stared down at them. You’ve changed your tune quickly, haven’t you, Ella?

Shut up, said Ella curtly, in between licks. You’re not staying.

We’ll see about that, Talonflame replied, too lazily to be threatening, as he tucked his head beneath his wing for a brief nap. Wake me when dinner’s ready, will you? 

Ella made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. She couldn’t find the room to care about that right now. Not when the cabin was steadily filling with sweet and savory scents, when the room was growing warm in the way it only did when the evening chill was falling outside, when there was a sense of comfort settling into her bones that she hadn’t felt in quite a long time. 

Not since...ah.

Ella looked up at Cinder, who gave her a knowing smile back. Of course she remembered too.

~0~

It’s only the adrenaline surging through her veins that’s keeping her moving. She just wants to run, run, run, as far and as fast as she can, because if she stops for an instant they’ll catch her and drag her back, but she can’t feel her paws anymore and it’s very quickly not her decision. 

The driving rain is already making it hard to see what’s in front of her, but then her vision blurs out completely, and she’s dropped right into a puddle before she even realizes her legs have buckled from underneath her. She doesn’t have the strength even to struggle back to her feet. All she can do is shuffle on her stomach through the mud, inch by miserable inch, until the sore tips of her toes brush rock, leaving behind smears of blood that are quickly washed away.

Her eyes flick upward: less of a cave than a hole in the ground, but she’ll take it. It’s a painful squeeze through an opening that’s just barely bigger than her own body. When she finally manages it, she collapses, lying like a wet pile of fur on the rough stone. Even here’s not really dry — cold runoff drips steadily right into her ear — but she couldn’t move to a better spot even if she tried.

She closes her eyes, the sound of her own labored breathing filling her head. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever get up again, and right now, she doesn’t much care. All that matters is that she’s not moving, that no one can touch her here.

So it takes her a good minute to register the strange scent wafting into her nostrils, underneath the heavy smells of rain and earth: acrid enough to make her nose twitch and fur raise. With a colossal effort, she lifts her head an inch, and finally notices that she is not alone here.

Barely a few feet away, desperately trying to cram herself into the far corner of the cave, is a human not much bigger than her. A little girl, just as skinny and soaked as she is, her amber eyes huge with terror. She wonders what she’s so afraid of — wonders if there’s anything behind her, if she should be afraid too — before realizing.

Oh. This was your hiding place first.

The girl doesn’t seem to have been here long: she’s out of breath, eyes puffy and red, and none of the mud spattering her once-white shirt and pants has dried. She gapes at her for a long moment, before hesitantly scooting forward and reaching out towards her ears.

What ear she has left pricks straight up. She might have intruded on this human, sure, but that doesn’t mean she gets to touch her.

Her hackles raise, her lips pull back, and she snaps at the offending fingers the second she realizes where they’re going. She misses — the girl gasps and scrambles back again, holding her hand protectively to her chest — and her smooth, flat-topped teeth clack painfully together.

“I-I’m sorry!” the girl yelps. “It’s just...you’re hurt.”

She’s fine. So what if her ears and tail had been cut into this awful shape? So what if she’s been robbed of her fangs, and now her claws? She’s still a Pokemon and not some spoiled brat’s toy. Still strong, strong enough to defend herself against one pathetic human. 

She growls, but it’s weak even to her own ears. She is strong, it’s either tell herself that or lose hope completely, but she’s running on fumes. If she can’t fight back...if she can’t make them stop touching her...

The girl is doing something puzzling now, and it almost makes her let down her guard. She’s pawing at her shirt as if looking for something, but it doesn’t seem to have any pockets or other affectations. Then after a moment, to her shock, she grabs the one part of it that isn’t filthy, tears a long strip away, then tears that in half with a soft snap.

“Here...” She edges closer, slowing but not quite stopping at her growls. “I — I get it if you don’t want me touching your face. But your paws are bleeding, and...”

She narrows her eyes and keeps her teeth bared in warning: with the combustion pouch in her throat snipped or punctured or even pulled out entirely, whatever they had done to it, a cigarette lighter could produce a bigger flame than she can right now. But she doesn’t have to act like it.

The girl bites back a whimper, the smell of fear still coming off her in waves. “I’m not trying to hurt you, I promise. I just want to help. Please?”

Growls keep bubbling up from her throat, but they’re half-hearted. Against every instinct, she slides her front paws forward. The wounds on her half-amputated toes sting when the scratchy fabric wraps around them, but it’s a small relief to have the bleeding finally staunched.

The girl smiles. “There. Better?”

This close, she can see in the girl’s sunken cheeks and ashen skin how starved she is, spot the jagged outline of a fresh scar around her neck. The faint smell of human blood, not quite covered up by the muck, reaches her nose. Oh. So they really are in the same boat. 

She goes quiet, and tries to relax, and is rewarded with the fear-scent steadily receding.

“My name’s Cinder. Do you have a name?”

She heaves a deep sigh in response; she’s never been called anything but mongrel, dumb mutt, dirty animal, and she’s pretty sure those don’t count as names.

“No? I’ll think of one for you, then. Just give me a little bit, I’ve never named anyone befo—aah!”

Thunder shakes what felt like the whole world around them, and they both jump so badly they hit their heads on the painfully low walls. She lets out a whine despite herself, curling tightly in on herself to keep from shaking. Cinder doesn’t look much happier, but instead of recoiling...

“Here...” Cinder mimics her, getting down and snuggling up next to her back on the floor. “I know I’m not very warm, but I should be better than nothing.”

She makes a soft noise of assent. When Cinder slings an arm over her shoulders, hugging her body close and gently petting her flank, it doesn’t exactly make her feel fuzzy on the inside. But it stirs something deep in her chest that she doesn’t have a name for yet, and it’s a welcome distraction from the cold and wet.

“We can stay here until the storm stops. We could figure out where to go together,” Cinder suggests, in a hesitant murmur. “We could be friends.”

Friends. She’s never heard the word before, and isn’t sure what it means, but she wouldn’t mind finding out. She twists her head around and licks Cinder’s cheek, and the girl giggles like she’s never tried to before.

The rain drives down hard and punishing outside, washing away all traces of them. Freezing droplets fall on them from the roof. They’re hungry, dirty, and shivering, with no idea of what they’re supposed to do next. But tonight they’re huddled together, the world outside this cramped little cave does not exist, and for the first time in their lives, they aren’t alone.

 ~0~

“Dinnertime,” Cinder said, balancing four dishes as she came into the living area. Talonflame stirred and flapped down from his perch to join them as she served the meal: beef stew from the slow cooker for the three of them and warm spiced milk for Cyndaquil.

The baby Pokemon let out her loudest squeak yet and bounced out of Ella’s legs when the dish was set beside her, but stopped short of actually going for it, looking up at them hesitantly.

“Go on. It’s all for you, dear.”

Cinder, sitting cross-legged on the floor with them, smiled as she watched the tiny Pokemon scramble eagerly towards the milk.

“You like it? There’s plenty more where that came from. We’re going to raise you to be big and strong, and one day nobody will dare mistreat you. Right, Ella?”

Ella loyally thumped her tail on the hardwood floor: she knew better than anyone. She knew that she wasn’t the starter Pokemon that every child dreamed about, nor, she conceded, had Cinder begun as the cool and confident Trainer that any Pokemon would want. But still they had fought every day to survive together, to become strong enough that nobody could ever lay a hand on them again. 

She had evolved under Cinder’s command, and with evolution the body parts that had been carved away from her when she was young were restored to her. Most importantly, it had given her her fire back, and she knew in her heart that she would never have been able to reach that point on her own.

It was just like Cinder used to say, in the dead of one of their countless nights huddled up together: It’s all right if nobody else loves us. All we need is each other.

That had held steadfastly true for them, from childhood to adulthood. Ella saw no reason why the same could not apply to Cyndaquil, if she herself were magnanimous enough to allow it.

As she gulped down tender chunks of beef, she watched the tiny Pokemon lapping up the milk so earnestly she seemed in danger of falling headfirst into the dish. It had taken Ella a long time to train herself out of scarfing her food down like that, so fast she didn’t even taste it, to be sure that nobody would snatch it away from her now. 

Though Toxitricity and Drapion still acted as if they would sometimes, just to get a rise out of her. While she was still small, Cyndaquil would be free to take refuge behind her legs or in Cinder’s arms, but soon Ella would have to teach her how to stand up for herself, and to not roll over for them or anyone else. There were a lot of things the two of them — three, if Talonflame decided to make himself useful — would be responsible for teaching their newest member. She ought to start making a list.

Not that there was much room in her head for that right now. Cyndaquil polished off the milk before the rest of them were halfway finished with their meal, and after licking the dish clean, she looked up and glanced uncertainly around at the three of them. 

Now that there was nothing to distract her, it was starting to sink in that she was all by herself, in a strange place surrounded by strange people, with no idea what was going to happen to her next. Ella knew that feeling: the sudden drop in her stomach, the cold spreading like frost over her skin. She remembered. She expected that Cinder did, too. 

Her Trainer was watching Cyndaquil intently, and at the first tiny whimper that might have been the prelude to crying, she set her bowl aside and held out her arms. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Want to come here?”

With only slight reluctance, Cyndaquil allowed Cinder to scoop her into her lap. Smiling, she rubbed the tiny Pokemon’s belly with one hand and scratched the back of her neck, just above the incendiary spots, with the other. Cyndaquil let out a series of high-pitched cheeps and squirmed happily in her lap, clearly unused to such affection.

“There, you see?” Cinder cooed, as Cyndaquil twisted around so she could scratch under her chin. “Nothing to be afraid of. This is your home now, with me and your big sister Ella.”

Ella! Ella! Cyndaquil squeaked, delighted. She says we’re sisters!

Ella swallowed a chunk of potato and tilted her head at them. Sister. Another word she would soon be learning to embody.

~0~

The next morning, Ella found her need to pace militarily when impatient at war with her utter disgust of wetness and mud. They had planned a schedule for Cyndaquil’s first full day with them yesterday evening, and it would not do at all to start slacking so soon.

Last night, Cyndaquil had tried to sleep in the corner of the bedroom at first, clearly too used to being shunted out of the way. She had needed plenty of coaxing from Cinder and a commanding bark from Ella to feel safe climbing up onto the bed and letting herself be tucked in between them.

She had slept restlessly, kicking and yelping in her dreams, needing constant soothing to calm down. In the morning Ella had had to drag her exhausted body out from under her blanket, shaking the sleep out of her head. Even Cinder, who had always been a light sleeper anyway, had been rubbing her eyes as Cyndaquil followed her out of the bedroom, bouncing at her heels. Arceus only knew where the little Pokemon had gotten so much energy from.

Ella lifted a paw and shook excess mud from it, her lip curling. Cinder had said that they would only be a minute, it had now been several, and if they didn’t get out here in the next ten seconds she was going to march in there and drag her Trainer out with her teeth—

“Being patient, Ella?”

Ella turned and fixed Cinder with A Look as she watched her coming down the front steps of the cabin, determined not to return her easy smile just yet. She was supposed to have been introducing Cyndaquil to a new Pokeball, but as it happened...

“Yes, I know,” Cinder said, reaching up to steady Cyndaquil as she sprawled happily on her belly, atop her new Trainer’s head. “She does have a new Pokeball now, but I think she likes it better here with us. Right, dear?”

Cyndaquil chirped assent, grinning and swinging her stubby legs.

“You’ll need a proper name soon, too. But training comes first, so watch your sister carefully, now. Ella, if you would?”

Ella gave a firm nod and stepped back, facing the open space in front of the two of them, so Cyndaquil could get a good view of what she was about to demonstrate. The smaller Pokemon, while still idly playing with Cinder’s bangs, was staring transfixed at her. Ella doubted whether she could even muster up an Ember yet, let alone try Flamethrower. Well, then all the better a show for her.

She would never again take for granted how good it felt to flex the muscles in her throat and get her combustion pouch working. It was like taking a gulp of sweet smoke, sparklers lighting just under her skin, as the heat surged up from within her.

Maybe the need to show off to someone younger, which she had never had the chance to do before, gave her some extra fuel: the flames that burst from her mouth burned hotter and stronger than ever, brightening the overcast morning and sending steam hissing up from the puddles before her. 

Cinder gave her an approving smirk and some soft applause, but Cyndaquil couldn’t contain herself.

Wow! She took a flying leap off of Cinder’s head and scurried to Ella’s side, mimicking her battle pose. My turn, my turn!

She opened her mouth, throat straining and tail sticking straight out, only to cough up the measliest crumb of flame that Ella had ever seen. It extinguished itself almost as soon as it had been ignited.

Oh, Cyndaquil said plaintively, tail drooping. I...

Ella gave her a nudge with her snout that she hoped was uplifting. Will try again, that’s what you’ll do. As long as it takes. Don’t look so downcast.

“Whatever Ella’s saying to you, she’s right, dear,” Cinder chimed in. “We’re going to become the strongest, but not overnight.”

You do have an advantage. I had to figure this all out on my own. Ella re-assumed her attack position. She would go slower this time, explain the physical aspects of combustion that were innate to all Fire-types, so the little one could better lean in to what felt most natural. You have me to look after you. And when you’re finally ready to be in a real battle, you’ll be far more prepared than the others. Understand?

Cyndaquil nodded very seriously, then mirrored her once more, sparks flying already from her arched back. 

Good. Now, watch closely...

[gureishi]

A #14 with Saeyoung. I love your fics ❤️ Thank you

Thank YOU, dear! ♡

Writing this one was cathartic af. I don’t often write them fighting, because I don’t think they fight much—but the prompt was begging for it and I think a lot about the unexpected ways they find themselves grappling with their trauma.

fourteen: hurts like hell to be torn apart

SaeyoungXReader, T (referenced violence, angst with a happy ending), words: 2912

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Bang.

The sound reverberates off the cobblestones and the colorful storefronts. It’s as loud and dark as the street is cheerful and bright. You feel it in your bones.

And for some reason that you have neither the time nor the emotional capacity to explain, you take off running. Away from the blue-and-white awnings of the little farmers market. Around a corner. Down the alley. Toward the sound.

I know someone’s been shot, says your brain, and you don’t notice the general absence of panic in the crowd—don’t register that no one is yelling, no one else is running. Your sandals slap against the pavement, hard. Your blood rushes in your ears and your heart is in your mouth.

I have to find them, or else… Your vision blurs, your thoughts scramble. Or else.

You’re halfway down the alley, running straight into the setting sun, and you still can’t make out what’s happening at the end of the narrow, dark, trash can-lined street. You squint, expecting at any moment to see a body on the ground, blood pooling on the uneven concrete…

…and your line of sight is cut off as you run face-first into something firm and warm. Someone. You let out a muffled cry and try to pull away, but there are hands gripping your arms and you find you can’t move.

“What do you think you’re doing?” hisses a familiar voice, and although his scent hits you then, and you know you should feel safe, you continue to struggle—hands balled into fists, striking his chest.

“Let me go!” you yell, raising a hand to shove him. His long fingers wrap around your fist. “I have to…” you gasp.

“Nope,” he says. He wraps his strong arms around you and you give in, slumping against him. There’s literally no way out now—you know him too well. How did he catch up to you, how did he cut you off…? He’s not even out of breath.

“Saeyoung…”

“Look.” He’s still got you in his firm grip, but he lifts one arm so you can see through the triangle it makes with his torso. Now that you’ve stopped your insane sprint, you can see more clearly. The end of the alley is…empty.

Your throat feels raw. You realize that at some point you’ve started to cry.

“It was a car backfiring,” he says stiffly.

“A car…”

Rationally, you understand: why the sound was too quiet, why nobody else took off running. Why there’s no body slowly growing cold at the end of the alley. But you can’t quite think rationally. Your heart is pounding so hard you feel like you might throw up.

Saeyoung spins you around and half-drags you down the alley, back the way you came. You know you should feel relieved—comforted by his arm around you, thrilled that your instincts were wrong. But his grip on your shoulder is bruising and you feel yourself wriggling, trying to turn around, trying to check the imagined crime scene just one more time.

You turn a corner, back to the shopping center. Here, nothing has changed. There’s the same group of kids in brightly-colored outfits lounging on the steps to the ice cream place. There’s the same harried-looking mother struggling to get her three toddlers in a stroller. There are couples walking hand-in-hand and friends calling to each other over the crowd.

Why, you think, a bitter taste in your mouth, was I the only one who ran?

The dissonance between the cheery atmosphere and the way you are feeling makes your head spin. You sneak a glance at Saeyoung’s face—he has a frozen expression, unmoving, like a statue. His grip on your arm is growing painful.

“Saeyoung,” you say, forcing your voice into a semblance of evenness. “Will you please let go of me now?”

He jumps almost as if he’s forgotten where he is. He drops his arm and it swings aimlessly at his side. He’s not looking at you.

“Let’s go home,” he says at last, and his voice takes you by surprise. His expression is carefully arranged, stoic, but he sounds like he’s ready to hit someone. He takes off walking—away from the pleasant shopping center, down a quieter street, toward the garage. You don’t follow.

He feels your absence, pauses, turns. The sinking sun sets his hair ablaze. Beautiful, you think—if not for the hard look on his face.

He looks, to you, like he’s powering down, turning himself off. There’s no light in his eyes. On some deeply-buried logical level you know that he’s feeling the same echoes of the past that you are, riding the same wave of terror and remembrance. But you feel anger bubbling under your skin and you want to shake him and scream don’t look at me like that in his face.

He spins around and stalks toward the garage. You follow him in silence. Through the entrance. Up the stairs. He picks up the pace and, stubbornly, you slow yours.

He’s unlocked the car, opened your door, and gone around to his own side before you’ve caught up to him. You can’t explain why—just as you couldn’t explain the irrational bolt of horror that struck you when you turned and ran down the alley—but you feel like you could strangle him.

Still in silence, he starts the engine. You can’t stand it anymore.

“So,” you say. Your legs are shaking. “Are you not speaking to me?”

He pulls out of the parking spot. Your head is pounding. Answer me.

He pays at the automated meter. Inches the car down the driveway. Then, finally: “Don’t be so childish,” he says.

Something snaps inside of you.

“Childish? From the man who’s giving me the silent treatment?” You clench your fists, leaving little half-moon imprints in your palms. You look at him sideways; no reaction registers on his face. “Would you mind at least telling me why you’ve decided you’re not talking to me anymore?”

“You don’t—” For the first time, you see anger flash across his face; it disappears as quickly as it came. The car speeds up a tiny bit; he corrects it instantly. “You don’t know why I’m mad at you?”

You feel yourself crumbling—a chain reaction that began when you heard the not-gunshot moving on to its inevitable conclusion.

“If you’d tell me, I bet I’d know,” you snap.

He exhales slowly, as if willing himself to be patient enough to deal with you. You want to wipe that expressionless mask off his face.

“Why did you take off like that?” he asks. His face remains impervious but the anger is in his voice and it scares you a little.

“I thought it was a gunshot,” you say. “Obviously.”

“So did I,” he growls. “Which is why I’m asking you why you ran toward it.”

His words are like a slap in the face and, stubbornly, desperately, you want to hurt him back.

“You’re being condescending,” you say. Your voice shakes, giving you away. “I’m not a child.”

“Then don’t act like one!” Every word is like an icicle to your heart. “It was stupid. Do not ever do something like that again.”

It’s too much for you—the reprimanding tone, the fear you still feel in your bones, the anxiety in the pit of your stomach. You feel tears coming again and you hate yourself for it.

“Don’t speak to me like that!” you say, and it comes out every bit as harsh as you’d intended. He flinches.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says through clenched teeth. “I need to make it clear to you just how—how dangerous and idiotic—”

“So whenever there’s something dangerous—and there will be again, because this is our lives—I’m meant to, what? Let you take care of it and hope for the best?” You feel hysterical. Your throat is raw.

“Yes!” he yells, and it’s your turn to recoil, shrinking into your seat. “That is. Quite literally. What I was trained to do.” He’s tried to lower his voice but the quiet derision is somehow worse than when he shouted.

“You don’t trust me. At all,” you say. There are the tears again. You turn to hide your face, wiping them furiously from your eyes.

“No, I don’t,” he says. “Acting like you did today just proves to me that I shouldn’t.”

Your insides are caving in. You want to grab him by his stupid hoodie strings and make him look into your eyes and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

Your head turned, your forehead pressed against the cool glass, you spot a familiar exit. You pounce on a different instinct—because it’s there, because it’s easy, because you know it will would him.

“Take the exit,” you command. You’re shocked by how cold your voice is. How mean you sound.

“What?” 

“Saeyoung, take the exit. Right now.”

He does.

He drives in silence, slowing the car to a stop at a red light. You peek at him. There’s realization in his dark golden eyes—and hurt, too. Good.

“This is the way to Jaehee’s house,” he says. He sounds numb.

“Yes,” you say. “Take me there.”

“But…but we should go home,” he says quietly, and in that moment you feel so angry you want to laugh at the vulnerability in his voice. It’s so easy to hurt him. You can still feel the hot lava anger bubbling under your skin, can still hear the way his voice sounded as he told you he didn’t trust you.

“I don’t want to go home with you,” you say.

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

Jaehee opens the door, takes one look at your face, and ushers you inside without a word. You can’t help it—you turn as she closes the door behind you to watch Saeyoung’s headlights slowly pulling away. He’d waited till you were inside.

Right. Because I can’t be trusted on my own.

Jaehee doesn’t pry, and you love this about her. She ushers you into her warm, familiar living room. She gives you a blanket. She offers to make you a coffee.

It’s late, but you say yes anyway.

It’s only once she’s brought you a mug filled to the brim with foam and dusted with cinnamon that she folds herself onto the couch beside you and fixes you with a knowing look.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

And you have been—fine as you stormed out of the car without saying goodbye, calm as you watched him drive away, steady as you sat alone on Jaehee’s small-yet-squishy couch. But now that she’s asked it all crashes down around you and you burst into tears.

Wordlessly, she opens her arms for you—a bit awkwardly—and you slip into them, burying your face in her chest. 

“We never fight,” you sob, knowing you’re soaking her sweater. She runs a soft, small hand over your back—stiffly, like she’s not used to it, but gently, like she wants to be. “We never…and I don’t even know—w-why…”

Jaehee hums soothingly. She takes a deep breath and you follow her lead, choking a little on your own tears.

“Would you like to tell me what happened?” she asks softly. She adjusts you, tucking your head against her shoulder. “It might help.”

You sniffle. In this warm, comfortable room, with this warm, comfortable person, suddenly your actions feel so irrational. Why did you run toward what you assumed was a gunshot? Why did you respond to his concern for you with such unbridled rage?

You tell Jaehee about it—the sound, the alley, the way his face looked when he caught up to you. The things he said in the car. The things you said.

She listens patiently, steady as ever. She tucks your hair behind your ear.

“I’m not entirely surprised to hear that you had that kind of reaction,” she says when you’ve run out of words and are sniffling into her neck. “You’ve been through quite a lot.”

“What, today?” You wriggle into a sitting position. She hands you a tissue box and your coffee.

“Certainly today, but I was actually referring to the past year.”

Oh.

You blow your nose. Take a sip of the coffee. It’s delicious.

“You’re saying I freaked out like that because of, um. Because of what happened at Mint Eye?”

Jaehee looks down at her hands in her lap. “Obviously, I don’t know everything that happened,” she says carefully. “But I can imagine that what you witnessed isn’t something you’ll get over easily. It will take a lot more time.”

When she says it like this, it feels obvious. You can still feel it ringing in your eardrums: the gun, the shouting. The sound of a body hitting the ground.

“Yeah,” you say. Your hands are shaking again.

“Saeyoung should know this,” she says. She places a hand over yours; it stills them.

“He does,” you say. “But he has his own—things—to deal with. From that day, and also before.”

“Yes.” She pats your hands once and then rises. With your eyes, you follow as she goes to the entryway, retrieves your bag from where you dropped it. Pulls out your phone from the outer pocket. “As I suspected.”

She hands you the phone. The screen’s lit up—you’ve just missed a call. Several calls.

“I’m going to make more coffee,” she says, slipping politely toward her kitchen—out of earshot. Your cup is still almost full.

You hesitate for a moment—just a moment—looking at the rows of his name on your screen. The shape of it makes your skin tingle.

You call him back.

“Hello?” He picks up after a quarter of a ring. He sounds breathless. You wonder if he’s made it home already.

“Hi,” you say.

“You called me back.” He’s talking quietly. His throat sounds raw. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“Of course I did.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you can hear him breathing—hard, ragged.

“I’m so, so, so, so sorry,” he says, and you can tell that he’s been crying too, in the way his voice catches at the end of each word.

“Saeyoung, I—”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I should never have spoken to you that way. It’s no excuse, but I was just so scared when you ran from me, I—I panicked, but I didn’t mean to…I never meant to—”

“I know.” He shuts up right away. He sounds miserable. You want to stroke his pretty head. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. You didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s okay. I did deserve it.” His voice is small and suddenly you want to be home, want to kiss his silly, perfect face and squeeze him till the sob is gone from his voice.

“You didn’t,” you say. “You were scared. I can understand that.”

“I was terrified,” he says. “I thought the same you did—you know, that it was a gun, and so I went to get in front of you, but you’d already taken off running toward it. I just—it felt like my soul was getting ripped from my body. I haven’t felt like that since…since—”

“Me neither,” you say. “I mean, me too.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to run toward a gunshot,” he says, and he laughs a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “You’re supposed to be somewhere safe and warm where nothing can hurt you. I can’t—if anything happened to you, I’d—”

“Me too,” you repeat. “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”

It’s quiet. You breathe together. In, out.

“I love that you want to protect me,” you say. “But I need you to trust me, too.” He hesitates, and you know that a part of him wants to say so don’t put yourself in danger. Once, he would have. He’s grown up so much since then.

“I do trust you,” he says. His voice breaks. “I didn’t mean what I—I promise I’ll try to—you’re my whole world,” he finishes. Desperately, miserably. Hopefully.

“I want to come home,” you say.

“You do?” The optimism rushes into his voice and you want to bathe in it.

“Please.” You smile and taste your own salty tears at the corners of your lips.

The doorbell rings.

No way.

“No way,” you say into the phone. You cross the room, tug the door open. “No way,” you say to his face. His arms hang at his sides and his eyes are wide and bright as if he’s still not sure if you’ll slam the door in his face.

“I only drove like a block away…” he mutters, trailing off nervously. Sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Should’ve known.” You throw yourself at him and he tears his hands out of his pockets in time to catch you, a surprised laugh bubbling in his throat as you catapult into his chest.

“So you missed me even though I’m a sad, miserable excuse for a boyfriend?” he says into your hair. You stand on tiptoe and kiss his face till his eyes are glazed over and the goofy grin is back on his face. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, dummy.” You kiss his throat and he shivers. “Take me home.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Friends! Let me know if you’d like to be added to this list so you’re tagged in my future mysme writings~ <3

@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere  @ultrasupernini​ @cro0kedme​ @otomefoxystar​ @dawn-skies06 @nad-zeta

[sanoiro]

Lucifer Meta: Why, Why, Why.

This post contains S6 spoilers

On of the two scenes that blinded me were Chloe getting back from the hospital with Rory and when Chloe passed away.

But there is more to them of course so let’s begin with the first one. 

Chloe gets back from the hospital and her family is there because that’s what they are now. They are a family. 

What blinds and breaks me here is when Chloe sits down holding Rory and she shurgs. 

Perhaps it’s something they are telling her but with Lauren’s acting we know that’s her tight smile. The one where she must not fall apart. 

When I was speculating about S5 I had written that Chloe from 4x10 onwards takes the role of an army wife. I never understood the concept of army troops around the world as it leads to many things around world but I will neither disrespect the families and individuals who go through that nor their ideals. Mainly because the main ideal is to keep the world safe, their families safe. And that’s what we see here. 

In 6x10 the husband has gone Missing in Action. They all know he cannot return. Chloe is aware that even in her final hours she will not see Lucifer whilst she is alive. She knows that despite her joy over having a second child and that being of the man she is deeply in love with, he is gone. Rory is the last piece of him on Earth and as she does not know what lies beyond her death it’s the only thing that she can see him in. 

So with that shrug there is an impending breakdown which is averted over and over again by Rory. Because as she said once, if you have any doubt about this, remember we are doing it for Rory. And as Dad had once said, you want your best for your child. As Chloe said, you do not want them to be in pain. And she had seen Lucifer’s pain and his guilt. No amount of Earth time would have managed to worth Rory succumbing to a similar path Lucifer had taken. The time to averted was on August 5th and in order to happen it meant he had to stay away. Chloe had to fight her battles on Earth and Lucifer in Hell. 

But there was a catch. Chloe had died again she knew that going to Hell was not an option. Going to Heaven would mean she would have to bid Lucifer goodbye forever. I believe it was something that was never discussed with any of the members of their family. Perhaps Chloe decided to leave the rest in a reasonable darkness over what happened to Lucifer in hopes to keep Rory safe. 

Perhaps Lucifer stayed down to Hell with no visitations and that because Chloe knew her deathbed was the key that would let Rory free of her anger and her gloomy future if she had not gone through what she did in the past. 

And so Chloe passes away without the knowledge of lies beyond that threshold very much like the rest of humanity. That because she knew Hell, she knew Heaven but she didn’t know how she could see Lucifer again and there is no Heaven if it cannot appease your wounds. She had lived through a kind of Hell already after all. 

So she passes away and we find her in a place we recognize (perhaps as it is a speculation) from the comics as The Void. A realm beyond our Universe. There Hell, Heaven and Earth are not part of that realm

She seems peaceful as she walks in that Void knowing that Rory is finally safe. that she finally understands and that her work as the mother-protector is finally done. Well for what it mattered and what she knew. 

When she feels a presence behind her she smiles as she seems to be able by now to feel divinity but she is not pleased it’s Amenadiel. 

That’s the scene that broke me. She knew Lucifer would not come while she was alive but to not come when she died was soul-wrecking. Because she hoped it was him. She hoped she could somehow be reunited with him. Break the rules of Heaven and Hell and indeed Amenadiel offered her a solution. A way back home. 

Again Home is where the Heart is. Meaning our loved ones. Lucifer in Chloe’s case. 

And at this very moment she knows it’s finally time. For Chloe perhaps there was a guilt deep inside of her that could have landed her to Hell. Lucifer had attempted to wait a bit longer but in the end Chloe was the one who had the reign over what would happen next. She picked their child. She picked a life of solitude. She pushed Lucifer to fulfill his Calling while she fulfilled hers. Then she and only she had the choice to be reunited with Lucifer and happily, tearfully she took it. 

Therefore, the torture was over at that point for Chloe who had to lie and avoid questions from her child, be away from Lucifer for so long. Lucifer would soon be reunited with her thus permanently finishing his own torture of being alone and Rory was released from hers. There was no abandonment just an affluence of love and determination of parents doing best what they should always do. Keep their child safe and the world safe in extension for them. 

How many special people change? How many lives are living strange? Where were you while we were getting high...

'Cause people believe That they're gonna get away for the summer But you and I we live and die The world's still spinning around We don't know why Why?

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 12 - A Little Death

Masterlist; Chapter 11

Summary: You have to help Neil get back onto his feet after the tragic news. The lack of control and overwhelming grief lead to a few revelations...

Warnings: This is quite angsty still despite mentions of comfort; excessive drinking; self-harm (only implied); swearing

Author’s Notes: Okay so the length of this is beyond me and I’m sorry. This takes place just before Neil’s departure to Mumbai, film-wise. I really hope you’ll enjoy and please let me know what you think!

P.S. The referenced song is ‘A Little Death’ by The Neighbourhood 

You did not check how long you were sat like that on the floor, cradling Neil and letting him cry and shake as though those were the only things he was capable of. Later you realised it was probably close to two hours as by the time you got up, it was nearly evening. But for those two hours, you just let him take his time. He did not speak, and you only occasionally whispered words of reassurance into his ear. You kept on drawing soothing circles into the skin of his back. After the first half-hour, you found a much-needed package of tissues and placed them in his lap. Despite his silence, you knew that your presence meant everything. And so you stayed, ignoring the rumbling in your stomach and tiredness. For the most part, you also ignored your own tears, fully aware that this was not about you, nor it should be.

Neil’s heart-wrenching sobs stopped after those two hours and were replaced with small gasps as though he was struggling for air. That is when you knew that the breakdown was past its culmination point. Slowly, you shifted so that you could look at him and gently tipped his chin. His eyes were puffy and red. The heart-breaking look he gave you was enough to nearly tip you off the edge. But you had to be strong. So you just took a deep breath and broke the silence:

“Don’t say you’re sorry for this because that’s the least I could have done for you” he nodded hesitantly upon seeing your determined gaze “I’m here for you, and I won’t make you talk about anything but sometimes it helps” you kissed him on the forehead.

When you met his gaze afterwards, you were struck by the admiration you saw there. He smiled at you slightly as though trying to convey something difficult to be expressed otherwise. You smiled back and took his hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. After another beat, you got up and filled a glass of water for him. You knew well enough how something so simple is needed after crying for so long. You watched as he emptied the whole glass, placed it on the side, and took a deep breath. Then he spoke for the first time in two hours.

“I… I know that this isn’t what you’re used to from me” he shrugged helplessly.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still someone I care about deeply” for a second you wondered why you felt like you wanted to say more.

But now was definitely not the time. So, instead, you added:

“Tell me what happened? If you’re ready, of course” you took his hand back and smiled when he entwined your fingers on reflex.

“When we arrived, he…” Neil swallowed hard “TP called us to his office and started explaining the next steps in the operation. He mentioned the bloody Mumbai and how I’m needed there tomorrow” he clenched his jaw, and you felt the tension rise.

You placed your free hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. Then you let your hand linger on the side of his neck. He sighed at your touch before resuming the story:

“Then he asked Ives to leave, and we talked a bit about everything… It was like the old days, you know” his brow furrowed “He mentioned how I’m probably his greatest friend in the whole world… How I helped him make Tenet into what it is now and how that wouldn’t be possible without my contribution” he exhaled shakily “We even talked about you” he glanced up and met your surprised look “Just about how it was seemingly fate that brought us together and how you fit in so well here, just taking everything in your stride” you smiled at the words shyly.

Even though it hurt you to know that he was not allowed the truth about your hiring. But maybe that was for the better, you mused.

“We talked like that for over an hour before he started acting strange… The things he said…” he seemed to gather words “It didn’t make much sense, but now I think I should’ve realised that he was…” he shuddered slightly “That it was supposed to be a goodbye” you saw the tears in his eyes again and shifted so that he could rest his forehead on your shoulder.

“Don’t blame yourself for not predicting what will happen. There’s no point in that” you leaned against the foot of the bed behind to be more comfortable.

“Maybe… But I felt something was wrong, so an hour after I left his quarters, I went back in” you tightened the hold on his hand, feeling the moment approach “The door was unlocked and he… he was just sat there” Neil brought his head up to look at you with teary eyes “I thought that he was fine but then… there was no pulse, and he wasn’t breathing” you felt him become breathless and gently urged him to slow down.

When he stopped hyperventilating, you let him lean on your shoulder again.

“He died alone… and I couldn’t do anything about it” you were not sure if you preferred the dejected tone or the former sobs “I was supposed to be his best friend, his partner”

“I think that he didn’t want to hurt you even more by making you watch it happen” you suggested, trying to make sense of the situation.

After the earlier text and what Neil told you begun to understand that TP intended to do it. To end his life. You just had to find a reason why.

“But I don’t understand why he did it” Neil’s voice broke through your contemplation “There was no reason to… He said himself that the plan is going well” you could hear anger creeping into his voice.

“I know… But maybe there was a reason…” you trailed off.

Neil watched you sharply, and you felt like if you said something wrong, you could risk losing him again. You had to tread softly.

“You once said that he never did things without reasons” you stumbled over the tense and frowned “And that’s the same feeling I got when I talked with him… Maybe he had to do that to avoid clashing with his former self in any way” you glanced at Neil to gauge his expression.

He was staring ahead into space with a serious look in his eyes, considering what you said.

“Is like… they mentioned during training that it would be bad if we ever came in contact with our other selves, inverted and so on” you kept on rambling, hoping it was helping somehow “So maybe he was afraid that his existence now would coincide with his younger self out there”

“There must have been better ways of dealing with that” you could tell that he was angry.

At himself. At TP. At the universe. And there was nothing you could do.

“Maybe that was all that he could think of”

You watched helplessly as he turned away from you, suddenly overcome with the emotions. You urged yourself to calm down. Maybe now was a good moment to mention the text…?

“I… I got a text message from him actually… as I was getting here in the cab” you took out your phone and gingerly offered it to him.

Neil took it without question and read over the recent message. Then you saw his eyes dart to other text conversations. But you did not mind. There was nothing to hide. He handed you back the phone without a further word. Then he got up and wandered over to one of the side cabinets.

Now that was concerning.

“Neil?” you scrambled after him and watched in horror as he hastily threw the cabinet contents onto the floor.

Finally, he found a whisky bottle hidden in the back and took a triumphant swing out of it. That sight made you shake off any paralysis you fell into. You crossed the room and snatched the bottle from him. The dark look he gave you was somewhat terrifying. He took a step closer as you took one back. Then he met your gaze challengingly as though doubting your ability to deny him anything. But this time, you were not going to give in. You shook your head and extended the gap.

“It helps with the pain” Neil shrugged helplessly.

“I know, but I think you’ve had enough for today” you gestured towards the empty bottles on the floor.

Thinking fast, you decided to act. You took out your phone and summoned Ives, asking him to come by Neil’s room in a moment. He responded instantly, evidently waiting on the news. Once that was dealt with, you went on to pick up the reminders of Neil’s state. When he saw you do that, you heard him speak:

“If you’re going to take away all the alcohol, then at least leave me the empty bottles” you turned to see an unfamiliar cynical smile “The glass might come handy” the emptiness in his eyes made the delivery worse.

You could only stare, processing the words. Suddenly everything felt too overwhelming.

“Neil…”

You stared at him pleadingly, hoping that maybe the look of panic in your eyes will help him realise what he said. You did not dare breathe until he somehow denied your worst anxieties about the situation. You watched as his face fell, then he covered it with his hands and breathed out a long exhale.

“Fuck. I’m sorry…” he stared at the floor “I didn’t mean it” he looked up at you remorsefully “I don’t know why I said that…”

“It’s okay. Just don’t ever scare me like that again” you gave him a weary smile.

Before you could say anything more, a knock on the door interrupted you. At Neil’s quizzical stare, you answered:

“Ives. I’ve asked him to come” you moved to the door, clutching all the bottles in your arms “Give me a second. And please don’t do anything stupid” you gave him a final warning look before you exited into the corridor.

Ives waited there with a worried expression on his face that seemed fixed at this point.

“Is he alright?” he asked, glancing at the door you closed.

You shuddered, thinking about the situation you just dealt with. But he need not know all that.

“He will be. For now, though…” you placed all the bottles of alcohol in his arms “Take these please and maybe get us a little something to eat from the kitchen… and tea” you tried to gather your thoughts.

“Okay” he nodded “If you need anything else, let me know”

“Thanks” you sighed, feeling the tiredness slowly descent upon your whole body.

But there was no time for that. Not yet.

“I’ll stay with him tonight” for once, Ives did not tease you about it, and you were grateful.

“His plane is at 3 pm tomorrow. Do you think that’s manageable?” he looked sceptical.

“It has to be” you smiled as Ives squeezed your shoulder reassuringly “I better go back to him. Just leave the food outside and knock on the door, please. Think it’s best if he doesn’t see anyone else tonight”

“Of course”

Without further word, you entered the room again and locked the door behind you. Neil was sat on the bed, anxiously picking at the skin around his fingernails. His hair was falling in his eyes, and he was staring at his lap, looking incredibly lost. It hurt you to see him like this. Ignoring the growing ache in your chest, you approached him slowly.

“I asked Ives to get us some food and tea because I think we both could do with that” you attempted a smile when he looked up “But before it arrives, you could shower and get changed… that could help a little”

You stood near enough to reach out and brush your fingers over his cheek tenderly. He seemed to consider your words for a moment before he leaned into your palm.

“Okay, I’ll try” you saw him hesitate before adding, “Thank you for putting up with this”

“Of course, that’s what friends are for” for some reason, the word felt wrong. And he noticed that too as you saw a small frown appear before he smiled at you and left for the bathroom.

When you heard him put the shower on, you started cleaning the room. You put away the pages that landed on the floor and made the bed. While you were smoothing the covers, your brain came up with a rather intrusive thought about how there you were, alone with Neil in his room. Again. And how that really did not fit in with the friendship story you desperately clung to. Because it was rather obvious that you would end up sharing the bed again. That was not something friends did this frequently. You did your best to shut that voice, but you could not deny the facts. So you just sighed and waited patiently for Neil to remerge.

Food arrived before he showed up, so you just set the coffee table. Once you were done, you heard the bathroom door creak. You turned to look at him and were taken aback by the casualness of his get-up. For the first time since you have met, he was not wearing suit trousers and a shirt, and instead had loose joggers and a t-shirt on. Despite the reality of the situation you found yourself in, you could not help but stare. He caught your look with a rather sheepish expression that you did not expect.

Interesting… But there was no time to dwell on it, so you just invited him to the table and encouraged him to have something from the selection Ives got you. Sometimes you would anxiously glance at him to see whether his mood has not changed for worse again. But he seemed fine; quiet and sombre but there with you, physically and mentally. And that was what mattered for the moment. So after you ate, you suggested settling in bed to rest. Neil agreed to that without any objections, giving you hope that maybe he was past his worst point.

After the initial awkwardness of the situation wore off, and you both relaxed onto the pillows, you asked:

“Should we put the tv on? Just have some music on or something…” you searched his eyes, trying not to get too conscious of the moment.

While this was certainly not the first time for you to casually share a bed, this time it somehow felt different. But you blamed that on the rollercoaster of emotions you both went through in the recent days.

“Yeah sure” Neil nodded and sent you a small smile.

This silent version of him was strange to get used to. It felt like he was holding back from you, and you were not sure whether you liked that. But there was nothing you could do apart from giving him unlimited space and time for expression should he need it. So, to provide a distraction, you put on the tv and quickly found a suitable music channel that was not blasting annoying pop songs. Silence fell on you again, as you let the music help you relax. You were not even paying attention to the exact songs played.

‘Make me feel like I am breathing Feel like I am human’

That is until you felt Neil shift, and you glanced in his direction only to meet his intense stare. The blue eyes were fixed on you with a hazy tint on the pupils. Before you could ask him anything, he moved closer. You were struck by the look of intoxication on his face. Somehow you knew that it was not due to alcohol. You felt slightly paralysed by the multitude of feelings that came then. Neil ended his scrutiny of your face to ask:

“Can I kiss you?” his voice was huskier than usual.

‘Touch me, yeah I want you to touch me there’

“Neil...” his name usually came quite handy in those speechless moments.

There were millions of reasons why you should not let him, but the look on his face and what he said next started breaking down the resolve.

“I know” he was looking at you with something close to pleading “I know this won’t fix anything, but if for at least a few seconds I can forget about this mess... then please give me that”

‘She sought death on a queen-sized bed And he had said, "Darling, your looks can kill, So now you're dead.’

He was close now. So close that all you had to do was lean in and kiss him softly. He sighed at the contact, and you brushed away the damp hair from his eyes. Then he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer with his hands on your waist. You were too lost in the moment to stop him when he urged you to lie down on the covers. Feeling your heart pound in your chest, you continued the kiss as he hovered over your body. His hands wandered until you felt him slide them underneath the fabric of your shirt. The warm, sudden touch on your bare skin acted as a warning. You gasped and broke the kiss, but not before he managed to bite on your lower lip, drawing blood. The desperate whine he let out made you open your eyes in a flash. The darkness of his eyes made you realise how close it got to the point of no return. That was enough to help you shake off the daze.

“Please, not like this” you pushed him away gently.

Your cheeks were burning as you came to realise what nearly happened. But once you met Neil’s gaze again, you could tell that he was still not quite aware of the reality. The passionate look in his eyes was replaced with something akin to begging.

“I just want to get lost in you” he murmured, still keeping his hands on the bare skin of your waist.

He ran his fingers along your sides, and you shivered. Inhaling slowly, you tried to calm down. Normally his words would have made you throw caution to the wind. But something like that could be disastrous right now.

“I don’t want it to happen like that” you pushed him off you completely and sat up, suddenly unable to look him in the eye.

“But you want it?” the hopeful tone made your insides flutter with thousands of anxious butterflies.

Fuck… Of course, he wouldn’t let it go easily.

“Ask me again when we’re both better” you hoped that you sounded surer than you felt.

You touched the split lip and wiped away the blood droplet with your thumb. That moment must have awakened something in Neil, as suddenly you heard him inhale sharply before he blurted:

“God, I’m so sorry” you looked up to see him staring at you in terror “I don’t know what overcame me… It’s not that I didn’t want to…” he was clearly struggling with whatever he wanted to say.

“It’s okay. I won’t hold you accountable for whatever happened… or almost happened” you gave him your most convincing smile despite feeling more confused than ever.

“But I… I want you to know I didn’t do that only because I’ve lost control” that was enough for you.

“Neil, it’s fine” you interrupted him “You don’t have to explain. It doesn’t matter” you forced another smile onto your face, praying he will drop the topic.

You could not even explain why it hurt so much. Maybe because you worried it was just him losing control? And that if there was someone else with him in your place, it would have happened anyway? But it felt selfish to have those thoughts after everything that happened, so you just tried to rake your brain for some other distraction. Somehow, this moment felt right to breach a topic that has been on your mind for the past few hours. Slowly, you turned to face Neil, who was evidently still pondering the situation while staring at the tv screen unseeingly. 

“Neil…” he turned to you the instant you said his name “Before I came here, Ives told me about Alex…”

The moment you mentioned the name, you could see a plethora of emotions flash in Neil’s eyes. There was shock, sadness, and worry, among others. He visibly tensed and tried to school his features before responding.

“I- I would’ve told you” he was desperately searching for the right words “There just wasn’t a good moment, and I didn’t know if you…”

“No, no. Stop right there” you interrupted him, worried by the rambling “I didn’t mention that because I want an explanation or because it hurt me in any way” you met his gaze steadily “I only wanted you to know that I’ve been told. And that if you ever wanted to talk about it, I’m here” you tried your best to convey the support and love (?) into the long look you gave him.

“But… is-is this okay? Are you okay with that?” the doubt and genuine worry in his eyes made your heart clench painfully.

You wanted to hurt whoever made him question things like that.

“Of course it’s okay. You loved and lost him, and that’s the only thing I care about” tentatively, you reached out to take his hand again “It’s a vital part of your story, and I want to know you better” you smiled, seeing him relax slightly.

“Thank you… I’ll tell you one day, I promise” he brushed his thumb along your knuckles “But I think he’d like you”

You were not expecting that.

“Yeah?” you blushed slightly, suddenly flustered.

“He used to call me out on my bullshit too… and never fell for my charm too easily” he smiled fondly.

You liked the way pleasant memories seemed to light up his whole face.

“I can see some similarities then” you grinned shyly “To be fair, you need someone to keep you from getting too cocky” experimentally, you reached out to ruffle his hair.

If his blissful smile and the way he leaned into your touch were anything to go by, he did enjoy the gesture.

“I’m not sure I deserve you” he opened his eyes and looked at you with some kind of new emotion.

But before you could find any ways of answering that, he yawned. Once, then twice. The tiredness was finally catching up with him.

“Think you should try to get some sleep” upon his silent question, you added, “I’ll stay in case you need me”

For a second you wanted to offer that you will take the sofa, but somehow you knew that was not what he would have wanted. And neither did you if you were to be honest with yourself. So you just watched as he hesitantly started shifting on the bed, trying to find the most comfortable position. You switched off the forgotten tv and the lights and slowly laid down on the pillow. In the quiet, you could hear his shallow breaths. One look in his direction was enough to help you decide. You moved closer, closing the safety gap, and carefully placed your arm on his waist. After a beat, you curled up around him, with your head resting on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” you asked, following the tense silence.

“Yeah… It’s just that I really don’t think I deserve any of this” you could hear the apprehension creeping back into his voice.

“You deserve much more” you pressed a small kiss to his neck “But let’s start with this. Good night, Neil”

“Good night…” he hesitated but then just exhaled, letting you hug him closer to your body.

*** The peace lasted only for the first two hours. After that, you were awoken by Neil tossing nervously. Before you could properly come to your senses, he let out a few soft whimpers. Shit. You shifted so that you were hovering over him and took a long look. His brow was furrowed, jaw clenched, and he was incredibly tense. Whatever nightmare he was having, it was escalating quickly. The next thing you knew, tears were falling down his cheeks, and he was mumbling something, sounding distressed. That was enough. You cupped his cheek, as softly as you could, and leaned in close:

“It’s just a dream” you kissed him on the forehead “Wake up love” you were not sure where the endearment came from.

You leaned back to see his eyes open in a blink. His gaze was unfocused, evidently still lost in the nightmarish world. Using the hand that was cupping his face, you brushed the stray hair away from his eyes. His breaths were fast yet shallow. Knowing the experience well, you immediately kicked into action.

“Neil, listen to me” you waited until his eyes locked with yours “It was just a dream. It’s all okay now” you placed your hand on his chest over the heart “You need to calm down”

“I can’t breathe” he choked out and sat up suddenly, nearly knocking you in the head.

“You’re panicking” you shifted so you could be sat in front of him.

The fact that you nearly climbed into his lap in the process had to be ignored for the time being. You took his hand in yours and placed it in the middle of your chest so he could feel the rising and falling with every breath you took. With your other hand, you tilted his chin so that he was forced to meet your gaze. His pupils were darkened by panic and adrenaline.

“Follow my breath” you made him match your breathing for a few cycles.

Once you heard his inhales and exhales elongate and level off, you let go of the hand you kept pressed to your chest. He kept it there for a moment longer, as though making sure you were really in front of him.

“I’m sorry” the heartbroken and tired look he gave you was enough to make your heart ache “You really shouldn’t have to deal with this mess”

“It was my conscious choice, and I would never leave you alone after something like this” you leaned in closer and pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth “Now, let’s try going back to sleep, shall we?”

This time he was holding on to you as though you were the only constant thing. With his arms around you and the warmth of his body, you could almost forget about the mess you both had to face in the morning. Before drifting off to sleep, you pondered his words again. More and more, you were sure that he got it the wrong way around. It was you who did not deserve someone like him. And you were afraid he would soon realise as much once the initial crush (or whatever it was) passed. But for now, you allowed yourself peace as you relaxed into his embrace and buried your face in his chest. If by some accident, the universe decided to be on your side, you would not complain.

*** In the morning, you were both awakened by Ives calling to make sure both of you were alive and awake. You had to blame the awkwardness that followed it on that very phone call. You only managed to shake it off when you sat down to the breakfast you brought from the canteen. You passed Neil coffee in silence, cursing your inability to hold a conversation after everything. But this time, he had some solutions. As your fingers brushed, he set down the coffee cup on the table and turned to you:

“I’m sorry about everything that I did and said yesterday” he glanced at your split lip “I wasn’t in control... and I don’t want you to be scared. I��d never do anything like that normally” he shifted nervously.

You knew an apology was coming, especially after seeing the way he looked at you ever since waking up. And while, admittedly, his behaviour worried you, you did not dare to think about how your ‘almost’ made you feel.

“I know, and I won’t judge you on how you acted last night” you put on your best smile, hoping to end the topic as quickly as possible.

But it was not meant to be as he clearly thought hard on what to say next. All you could do was wait and listen.

“I know that I crossed some lines” finally, he found the right words “And while I can’t deny that I was acting on my genuine desires…” he searched your eyes to make sure you understood “I won’t do that again because I respect your wishes to keep this strictly friendly”

Was this your imagination, or did he sound like he did not want to say that? If you were honest with yourself, that was not something you wanted to hear either. But now was most definitely not the time, so you just reached out to squeeze his knee reassuringly.

“Thank you, and don’t worry about it. We’re all good” he covered your hand with his and mirrored your smile.

Maybe all this confusion was worth it? After a short beat, you took your hand away and went back to breakfast. The silence was still there, but at least it was less awkward now. When you noticed him frown at the headache that was undoubtedly bothering him, you passed a painkiller. He smiled gratefully.

“So… when is my plane?” he asked after you both cleared the plates.

You could tell that he was dreading the trip. And it hurt to know that there was no way for you to help him.

“3 o’clock” you glanced at the watch “Which gives us about five hours to get you ready” you took in his sombre expression.

“I really don’t want to go” he met your gaze with emotionless eyes “It’s so fucking cruel to have me assist whoever the fuck that guy is when my best friend just killed himself. And I don’t even know why” the anger and hurt in his voice were somehow worse today.

Maybe it was because you could not blame it on his intoxication anymore.

“I know… And wish I had any answers, but I don’t know more than you do” you could only give him an apologetic half-smile “But I know that you have to be there to help… him”

Calling the younger version TP seemed somehow wrong. And you could only imagine how it must feel for Neil, on the eve of meeting that different version of his partner. 

“He won’t even know who I am” there was a broken edge to his voice “How am I supposed to meet him and act as though he’s a stranger?”

“Alright, walk me through what you’ve been told, and I’ll try to help as best as I can”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather go back to sleep?” he eyed you sceptically “You must be tired, and it’s all my fault”

“Neil, stop” you have had enough of the self-depreciation “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m here for you” you took his hand in yours “And I wouldn’t rest anyway without knowing you’re well. So let’s go through the plan and then I’ll help you pack”

He only gaped at you with a dazed expression on his face. You wondered how someone so incredible could ever doubt their importance so much.

*** Surprisingly you managed to get Neil ready in time for the taxi departure. Together you planned the mission, made sure he had all the necessary information and contacts and was as mentally well as he could be after everything. When the time was near, Ives knocked on his door. This time, Neil let him in. You watched as the two men embraced tightly, sharing the trauma and sadness. Ives then took a step back and eyed Neil coolly.

“You did a good job” he flashed you a smile “He looks much better than I expected”

“Would you mind?” Neil looked at you nervously, and you laughed at the brief moment of lightness.

“Must say it wasn’t easy, but I did my best” to prove a point, you wandered over to Neil and smoothed his suit jacket.

After disagreeing over the wardrobe choices you managed to convince him to take a few linen suits and shirts for the warm weather in India. Now you were proud you succeeded. To be fair he looked good in anything, but there was something more intimate in the fact that you chose his outfits. But once again, you were brought to the present moment by Ives clearing his throat:

“The taxi is leaving in half-hour. I’ll leave you two now” he gave you a knowing smile and exited the room before you could roll your eyes at him.

Realising you still had your hand on Neil’s shoulder, you took a step back. He was watching you attentively with a small smile on his face. That probably explained Ives’ allusions…

“I won’t ask if you’re ready but… are you okay?” you met his gaze.

“As much as I can be, I suppose” he shrugged dejectedly “I really wish I could stay with you instead”

You saw his hand twitch at his side and decided to choose for him by taking it into yours, naturally entwining your fingers.

“Unfortunately, this time we can’t decide for ourselves. But remember that you can call me if you need help or just to talk. Don’t worry about the time zones, I’ll always pick up” you tried your best to show how you felt through the expression in your eyes.

But that was a dangerous game as soon enough you got lost in the blue of his eyes. As always.

“Thank you” he breathed out, looking at you with such tenderness that almost made you feel faint “Still don’t think I deserve you though” he grinned shyly.

“Oh you do, and I’ll keep on saying that till you believe it” you raised your joined hands to your lips and kissed his knuckles “While I enjoy this slightly subdued version of you…”

“What?” his affronted face made you laugh.

“You know very well what I meant” you smirked and let go of his hand, only to pull him in for an embrace.

It took him only a second to hug you back, with his arms wound tightly around your waist.

“You said we should hug more often so” you whispered into his ear and enjoyed the laugh it prompted “Hope this is good enough for you” you ran a hand down his back.

Then, upon a sudden thought, you pushed your hands underneath his suit jacket and splayed them on his back, relishing the feel of his skin through the shirt fabric. The only indication that he felt the difference was a sharp gasp he let out as he drew you even closer.

“More than that” he kissed the top of your head.

After at least two minutes more, you took a step back but still kept your hands on his waist.

“Please be safe out there. Don’t do anything stupid. And…” you shut his mouth with a hand upon seeing him protest “And don’t get too drunk before the meeting. I know that it will be hard, but that could only make you more likely to fuck up”

Before you could take your palm away, he placed a peck on your wrist, near the pulse point. The voice in the back of your head kept screaming about how this definitely was not something friends do. But you told it to kindly fuck off. At least for now.

“I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try” he flashed you a signature smile as though you could ever forget it “After all, I’m not the one to behave” proving the point, he brushed the pad of his thumb along your lower lip.

You inhaled sharply at the sensation. Looking questioningly into his eyes, you wondered whether he remembered about the earlier promise. But there was no time to find that out as sharp knocks interrupted you. It was time.

[chimchimsauce]

XS (III - Showtime)

“Give me just a little bit MORE”

Being the son of the largest gang in the country, Kim Taehyung might as well be a prince. He is more powerful than any one man should be and is not afraid to get rid of anything - or anyone that gets in his way.

So when a man is unable to pay back the gigantic loan he owes Taehyung, the heir is all too happy to take his life. Moments away from pulling the trigger, a girl more beautiful than he’s ever seen bursts in and offers her life for her father’s. Taehyung knows right away that he wants her.

And Taehyung gets everything he wants.

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

YN has never seen a room so opulent. She feels as if she's just stepped foot back in a time where Kings and Queens threw magnificent feasts and wore terribly tacky powdered wigs. She half expects there to be music playing, maybe a man or three strumming some ancient instruments.

But all that greets her is one table, much too small for the massive room it sits in. There are four places set at the table, one on each side. YN recognizes the back of her "fiance" right away, the mere sight of him causing her to stiffen. He looks up and they lock eyes, YN feeling all of her breath whoosh out of her.

He's smiling pleasantly, his fingers intertwined as they sit on the edge of the mahogany table.

"Hello, spitfire," he says much too jovially, "You clean up rather nicely."

His eyes scan over her body languidly. An icky feeling descends over YN and she has to fight the urge to vomit again. She's felt more nauseous in the past twenty-four hours than she has in her entire life.

"Don't just stand there," the man says impatiently, "Come sit down next to me."

YN doesn't have to be a genius to understand that he's not asking.

As carefully as she can, YN makes her way over to him, careful not to trip over her dress and go flying. As she approaches, the man stands up and pulls her chair out for her, pushing YN close to the table before returning to his own seat.

"Let's get some things settled before my father arrives, why don't we?" the man says, not wasting any time, "I want to be incredibly clear in my expectations for you. It'll be best for us both if you don't fuck things up."

YN swallows and nods, staring down onto her empty plate, wishing it would turn into a portal to get her away from here.

"Rule number one," he says, large hand reaching up to grip her jaw harshly and yank her face towards his, forcing her to make eye contact, "Always look at me when I'm talking to you."

YN does her best to nod, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

"Rule number two," he continues, squeezing her face even harder, "Use your words. Understand?"

"Yes," YN says as best she can through her puckered lips.

"Sir," he adds.

"Yes, sir," YN parrots.

Seeming pleased, he releases her face.

"Rule number three," he continues, "Always do as I tell you. Insubordination will get you punished. Hesitation will get you punished. Backtalk will get you punished."

YN goes to nod before correcting herself.

"Yes, sir," she says meekly, forcing herself to maintain eye contact.

Even his gaze looks deadly, sharpness thinly veiled by a layer of warm chocolate.

"Besides that, you may do as you please. Besides leave, of course. I really don't care what you do as long as it doesn't reflect poorly on me. My reputation is very important. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," YN manages, trying not to think about how awful her life is going to be from now on.

"If anyone asks," he says, "You and I met at a party last year. You were incredibly taken by my beauty and approached me. We fucked and you found yourself catching feelings. I decided that you were beautiful enough to suit me and here we are."

YN tries to hide her disgust but she must not have been fast enough because he scowls.

"What?" he snaps, "You got a better idea?"

YN forces herself to speak, afraid of whatever 'punishment' he could have in store for her. She chooses her words carefully.

"No," she says, "It just wasn't what I expected you to say."

"Humor me," he responds, "How would you tell our fictional meeting and love story?"

YN wets her lips slightly, nervous. She's always been a romantic and has thought of a million different ways she'd fall in love on the days when classes were particularly difficult and loneliness set in.

"Well," she begins, "Considering that you're part of some organized crime syndicate, it would be very unlikely for us to meet in class or at the library or a cafe. I would say that we met as one of your deals went sour and your . . . enemy . . . tried to run away. They caused a fuss as they tore threw the crowd and you chased after them bravely, only for me to turn the corner and run smack into you, causing both of us to go flying. You, ever the gentleman, stopped to help me up and gather my things, asking me to wait for you while you handled some business. As you said, I was overcome with your beauty and stood waiting for you. It took hours but you showed back up, albeit a bit rougher than you were before. I noticed that your hands were bleeding and insisted on bringing you back to my place to patch you up since you refused to go to the doctor. And after that, every time you got beat up or bruised, you would return to me and I'd help you. Over the course of many months, we fell in love and when you told me of your job, I was too head over heels to be afraid, pledging to spend the rest of my life with you. And here we are."

For a moment, all is silent. YN fears that she's said too much as he just looks at her.

"That's stupid," he says dismissively, "I never get injured. Nor would I trust some random stranger to take care of me when I have a full medical staff at my disposal. Just go with what I said."

"Yes, sir," YN says, heat rushing to her cheeks in embarrassment.

"What else?" the man asks himself, "Ah! Yoonji will be your personal servant. If you need anything, tell her and she will handle it. As my wife, you won't have any power in the syndicate or anything crazy like that, but it will be in your best interest to make nice with the other women. They can be rather . . . vicious."

His mouth quirks up in amusement. YN doesn't want to know what exactly the other women have done to warrant such a response.

"Any questions?"

"What's your name?" YN asks.

If she's going to be stuck with this man for the rest of her life, living under his thumb, she at least wants to know what his name is.

"Taehyung," he says, a wicked grin on his face.

He picks up YN's hand, turning it around to kiss her wrist, her pulse rushing under his lips.

"Get used to it. You'll be screaming it a lot."

Disgust hits her like a truck.

The grand doors open again and an older couple walks in, looking elegant and deadly.

"It's showtime," Taehyung whispers into her ears.

Taehyung more or less pulls YN up to stand beside him, smiling at the couple as they approach the table.

"Father," he greets somewhat affectionately, completely ignoring the other woman.

YN smiles, unsure if she's supposed to speak to them.

Taehyung's parents are somehow even more intimidating than their son. His father has a large scar running across half his face and skin that looks at tough as leather. The woman standing beside Taehyung's father looks much too young to be Taehyung's mother, maybe just a few years older than YN herself.

"Taehyung," his father says gruffly.

All four people take their seats and staff glides forward to bring the first course, some heavenly smelling soup.

Is YN expected to know what utensil to use? Panic wells up inside of her.

"I see you've finally found yourself a wife. I'm surprised she's not one of your usual whores," Taehyung's father says.

Anger sprouts forth at this old man's misogynistic statement.

"Of course not," Taehyung says smugly, "What's the fun in that? Besides, look at how beautiful YN is."

He's speaking as if she's not even there.

The old man looks YN up and down, his eyes lingering on her chest far too long.

"She is indeed. Good job son," he says, chortling to himself.

YN's eyes flick over to the other woman at the table. She's drop-dead gorgeous, nearly ethereal. If she's upset at her husband's words, YN can't tell in the slightest. She's eating her soup quietly, not even looking up.

YN decides to copy her to the best of her ability, her trembling fingers grasping the right spoon and skimming some soup off of the top. She brings it to her mouth.

"I'll have the wedding preparations ready for tomorrow, then," Taehyung's father says, startling YN so badly that she drops her spoon into her bowl, splashing soup all over the table.

What?

Chapter Four

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[milkybonya]

senior - friend - lover

Warning: mentions of drinking, but reader in this fic does not want to drink and does not drink, food mentions

Pairing: college!Jinjin x (gender neutral reader who is shy, has a hard time saying no)

Word count: 3.5k

Note: This is my entry for the Valentine’s day collab hosted by @kpoppwriter ! It was inspired by prompt 12: “You don’t have to if you don’t want to”

what i listened to while writing: I Like You by DAY6

On your first day at university, you got lost a total of three times, were late to all of your classes because of that, and you almost missed an important, required meeting for all first-years of your program. Almost.

As you were rushing back to your dorm, tired of the long day that you had just endured, you felt a hand gently grab your arm and stop you from moving forward. You almost grabbed the hand and twisted it out of anger until you looked up and realized who it was.

“[y/n]... right? You’re a first-year, no?” the person asked. You couldn’t quite remember his name, but you knew that he was a well-beloved senior in your program. During Welcome Week, he had been leading most of the events.

“Yeah, that’s me!”

You didn’t dare to ask his name, not wanting him to know that you had forgotten.

“I’m Jinjin. I’m sure you’ve seen me around,” he said, giving you the answer to your question without you even needing to ask.

“Yeah!” you say again, not sure what to say. This was the first time a senior in your program was talking with you one-on-one, so you didn’t want to embarrass yourself.

“I see you’re heading towards the dorms. Have you forgotten about the mandatory meeting for first-years?”

You gasped, eyes shaking as you realized that you had, in fact, forgotten. Jinjin smiled, his soft eyes disappearing into pretty crescents.

“You know how to get to the building, right?” he asked.

Your heart was racing. There was just one simple answer to that question… no. But for some reason, you had such a hard time saying that word. You felt like that word burdened whoever you were uttering it to, and for that reason, you always obliged with whatever came your way.

“Yeah!” you said for the third time.

“Okay, get there soon! It’s starting in five minutes,”Jinjin said, walking off and waving goodbye.

You pretended to walk towards this building, having no clue which one it even was, until Jinjin told you that you were going the wrong way.

“It’s okay. I actually have some things to do near there, so I can walk with you,” he said, leading the way.

How embarrassing, you thought to yourself. Now Jinjin knows that you pretended to know where you were going…

“It’s hard to ask for directions, right?” Jinjin asked you, walking with his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah…” you said, again.

“It feels like you’re a tourist even though you’re just a student on campus. But don’t worry, everyone here understands. We’ve all had to ask for directions before. Once, I asked for directions and it turned out I was standing right in front of the building I needed to find!” Jinjin explained, laughing softly. The sound was contagious and you laughed along. Your shoulders, that had been tense this entire time, dropped, and you felt yourself relaxing for the first time that day.

-

After that day, you tried your best to avoid Jinjin because of how embarrassed you felt, but somehow, the two of you would always run into one another. It would never end at just ‘hello’.

You were at the campus bookstore the next day, picking up some textbooks that you needed when someone tapped your shoulder. When you turned around, there he was. The boy who you’d embarrassed yourself in front of the day before.

“Hello! Are you picking up some books?”

You nodded, awkwardly returning to the shelves to scan them. Again, you weren’t sure what to say to your senior, but also again, Jinjin had a strange way of making you feel comfortable around him.

“Oh, don’t buy those books, [y/n]. It’s not worth the cost…” Jinjin said, pointing to the heavy load in your hands. When you blinked up at him, waiting for an explanation, he sighed.

“I doubt you’ll read them… But if you really want them, do you want to borrow mine? I still have them and they’re as good as new!”

“That would be great… How much should I pay you?”

Jinjin laughed.

“I said borrow. You can borrow them - there’s no need to pay!”

“Really?” you asked.

Jinjin leaned against the shelves and smiled, nodding.

“Can I drop them off at your dorm later today?” he asked.

When you nodded, he excused himself and walked towards a different part of the store. Thanks to Jinjin, you left the store empty-handed. It sounds sad, but actually, you were saving a lot of money thanks to him!

Just as he promised, he met you on the main floor of your residence building with a lot of books in his hands. It looked heavy, so you offered to help, but he said he didn’t need any. 

He walked up three flights of stairs (the elevator was broken), so by the time you had reached your room, he was sweating a ton. His veins were showing and his muscles protruding. He was such a cutie… you hadn’t expected him to be fully built with muscles.

He collapsed on the floor of your room once he placed the books on your desk, leaning his head back against your bed frame.

“Are you okay? Let me get you some water!”

When you brought him some, he chugged it all in one go and gasped for air once he was done. For some reason, that made you laugh, and Jinjin frowned at you.

“Is my pain funny to you?”

You pressed your lips together, shaking your head ‘no’.

“Anyways, there’s going to be a party for our program so we can introduce the first-years. Do you want to come?”

Gosh.. there it was. Another instance where you wanted to say no but just couldn’t. Why was it so hard for you to say ‘no’ in the most crucial situations?

“Uh… sure!” you said quietly. You weren’t fond of parties. Being a shy person made it hard to interact with strangers. Even if the people at the party weren’t really strangers, since they were all in your program, talking to them and socializing would be hard.

Jinjin scanned your face with his eyes.

“You don’t look like you want to go, though.”

“What? No… that’s… not true.”

“You look like I’m forcing you to go somewhere…” he said, squinting at you.

“You don’t have to come, [y/n]. If anyone asks, I’ll just say… you were studying?”

“But it’s only the first week… there isn’t much studying to do!”

“Shhh, I’ll tell them you have a quiz you’re worried about,” Jinjin said, standing up and waving away your worries with his hands.

“But-”

“Don’t worry, [y/n]. I’ve got it covered.”

-

“[y/n], you said you’d treat me out to food as a thanks for borrowing my books, right? Can we go eat somewhere today?” Jinjin asked you over the phone.

“But I didn’t… say that…”

“Oh, right… you didn’t. I wasn’t trying to make use of your inability to say no or anything! I swear! I was honestly just trying to find an excuse to have a meal with you but… you don’t have to treat me if you don’t want to!”

“Jinjin, you don’t need to make any excuses for having a meal with me. I’m always down to share a meal.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice somehow sounding like a happy puppy.

In the evening, the two of you went to a pizza place just outside campus to indulge in junk food. Things were getting stressful with exams approaching, and there was nothing like pizza to make you feel better.

When Jinjin asked you if you liked a certain flavour of pizza, you couldn’t help but agree, even though you hated that flavour the most. You just didn’t want to upset him…

He noticed the way you nibbled and tried to hide the fact that you were almost gagging on the taste. There was a soft thud as he dropped his pizza onto his plate.

“[y/n]... you don’t like this flavour, do you?”

“It’s fine!” you said, trying to take a big bite but struggling.

“It’s clearly not…” Jinjin noted, taking the pizza from your hands, his warm hand brushing against yours as he put the pizza away.

“Tell me what kind of pizza you want right now and I’ll go get it,” he said, pushing back in his chair, the legs scraping against the floor.

“You don’t have to!” you said, also standing up nervously.

“No, [y/n]. You don’t have to. Please, when you’re with me, don’t ever worry about anything. Only do the things that you want to do.”

You could hear your heartbeat flooding your ears as he said this. How did he have the ability to make you feel so comfortable?

When he ordered the pizza that you wanted, he watched as you ate with heart.

“Why aren’t you eating?” you asked him.

“I’m full,” he said, continuing to watch you. You found it awkward to eat as he watched, so Jinjin continued to eat his own pizza despite saying that he was full just moments ago.

“Wait… so why did you want to eat today so badly?” you suddenly asked Jinjin.

“What do you mean? I thought you said I didn’t need a reason to want to eat with you?”

“I’m just curious now,” you said, slyly taking a bite of your pizza.

“I just wanted to see you…” Jinjin mumbled in-between mouthfuls of food.

“Hm?”

“Nothing… I’m just hungry,” Jinjin said, taking a big bite of his food.

-

Once the second semester began, more people had picked up on your struggles with saying ‘no’. In group projects, all of the workload was forced onto your shoulders. People dragged you to parties and events that you didn’t want to nor had the time to attend, and you were sick and tired of everyone. Everyone except for Jinjin, of course, whom you’d managed to grow extremely close to, despite him being your senior.

“Give me your phone,” Jinjin demanded, crossing his arms over the library desk.

“Jinjin, calm down-”

He snatched it from your hands before you could finish your sentence and sighed once he saw the messages on your screen. Then, he began furiously typing a response. You leaned forward and tried to reach for your phone, but Jinjin wouldn’t let you have it. He only gave it back once he was done typing.

“These rascals… [y/n], I’ve told you to say no when they make excuses for not being able to do the work.”

“It’s hard,” you whined, eyes widening once you read the nasty response Jinjin had written.

This is a group project and there will be no free riders. I know you’re all lying. Everyone will do their part as we decided, or else you’ll get a zero as I’ll be showing the professor these lies that you’ve all messaged me.

“Jinjin, this message is so scary.”

“You have to be scary for them to take you seriously!” Jinjin says, his loud voice earning him glares from a couple of students.

“I know it’s hard… Whenever you get these messages, tell me and I’ll reply for you, okay?” Jinjin tells you.

As the two of you returned to your studies, you noticed a part of Jinjin’s forearm glowing. The ceiling of the library was all glass, so the sunlight was able to shine down sometimes. Today, the sun had decided to bless Jinjin.

Acting on your sudden urge, you stretched out your arm to poke Jinjin’s forearm, right where the sun’s rays were shining on it. He looked up after your finger collided with his skin, confused.

“Look, the sun’s shining on you!” you pointed out, amused. Jinjin smiled seeing your reaction to something so simple.

“You used to be so scared of me… now you even poke my arm?” he asked.

“Oh… I’m sorry!” you said, retracting yourself away from him and returning to your notes. Jinjin watched you for a few moments as you tried to study, admiring your beautiful face from only an arm’s length away.

-

“Drink up drink up!”

Glasses clinked together inside the warm pub, the sound echoing in your ears. Once everyone’s glasses met their lips, the only sounds that could be heard were the murmuring of chatter that filled the slightly busy space and something sizzling in a pan far off towards the kitchen.

You took a sip of your glass of water, trying to hide it from all your college friends. They were quick to catch on, though.

“It seems like [y/n] isn’t drinking tonight,” the person next to you said, pushing your glass of water forward for all to see.

“Do you think we’re a joke, [y/n]? We came to this pub to drink!” another person said.

“Yeah, if you’re not going to drink, then pay for the bill.”

Your heart was racing. Once again, a moment where you wanted to say ‘no’. You needed to say no but just couldn’t.

“Okay, okay!” you gave in.

Everyone cheered.

“Someone, fill a glass for [y/n]!”

Jinjin, sitting across from you, started to pour the contents of a bottle into a shot glass. Of all people, you would not expect him to do this. But when he handed it to you, he gave you a wink while smiling from ear-to-ear. Though you’d only known him for a year now, you knew this meant you could trust him.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted the glass to your lips, tilted your head back and downed its contents.

Water.

It was water.

You laughed to yourself when you realized, but your friends just thought that the ‘alcohol’ was cheering you up.

“That’s right!” the person next to you said, nudging you.

Jinjin filled your glass two more times with water until everyone stopped paying so much attention to you. Then, the two of you stepped out for some air.

“I thought you were trying to help me learn how to say no,” you told Jinjin, who pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head.

He smiled. This boy seriously never stopped smiling at you.

“That was an emergency. I knew it would be hard to say no when everyone was staring at you like that, so I thought I’d give you a hand. Was that so wrong of me?” he asked you, pointing dramatically to himself.

You shook your head, pushing him slightly. He pretended to stumble, making you laugh.

“Just know that if you ever don’t want to do something, you don’t have to do it. Especially when I’m around,” Jinjin said. The hanging lights from the exterior of the pub were making his crescent eyes twinkle.

“I know. You tell me that everyday,” you said, feeling embarrassed. Sometimes Jinjin acted like he was your dad or something.

“And I should. Until you understand that, it’ll still be hard for you to say ‘no’.”

He gently patted the top of your head before heading back inside, leaving you there in the chilly air. But the air didn’t feel so cold anymore, especially after he patted your head like that.

-

“What if left… wuz right and right… wuz lefht?” Jinjin asked, waving his arms around wildly and almost falling over forwards.

“Jinjin please stop walking away from me and just hold onto my shoulder so I can get you home safely,” you whined, chasing after him for the seventh time. 

After getting angry at your friends for trying to slip alcohol into your glass since they realized you’d been drinking water, Jinjin yelled at everyone at the table and declared that anytime anyone made you drink, he’d down the drinks for you instead. Now, you were left with a very drunk Jinjin to carry home.

“If lefht iz right then am I wrong?” Jinjin asked, finally stopping and facing you. 

His knees were bent in a weird way and his small frame looked so adorable in the massive hoodie he was wearing. While he was distracted, you raised his arm and wrapped it around your shoulder, holding him by the waist so he wouldn’t escape.

“Nooooo!” he squealed, squirming and trying to run away again.

“What is your problem?! It’s me, [y/n]! Why do you want to run away so badly?”

“That’s the problem. You’re [y/n] and… when…. When you hold me like thissss… I… get….. Confused!” he suddenly yelled the last word, making you jump.

“Confused? Why?”

Then you realized that your hand was wrapped around his waist.

“What do you mean?” you quietly asked.

“[y/n] I like you! So stop… confuse… confusing me…”

“But Jinjin, I like you too…” you admitted, your heart swelling. 

This man was the only person who made you feel comfortable when you were around him. He had become such a close and dear friend, he was cute as heck and every time he’d pat your head, somehow that was enough to make your heart do a million cartwheels?

“No, no, [y/n]. It’s okay. You can sayyyyyy. No. You can. Ssssay it,” Jinjin grumbled, still continuing to walk along with you.

“But Jinjin, I mean it this time. I really do.”

Jinjin let out a strange gasping sound and then went quiet, leaving you alone with your thoughts while you dragged this man’s heavy body to his apartment.

What was the use in telling him in his drunken state that you liked him, anyway? It’s not like he would remember. Oh, well. At least you knew he liked you back! But how in the world would you bring this up tomorrow…

-

February 14th. The next day was Valentine’s day. You had to confront Jinjin about his drunk confession on Valentine’s day of all days?!?!

You woke up in a seated position, your head resting against a bed frame. Then, you remembered that you had walked Jinjin home last night and he didn’t let you leave, so you had been trapped in his room until you fell asleep.

Beside you, Jinjin was still softly snoring in his white t-shirt, so you got up and tried to make some breakfast. Just after a few minutes though, Jinjin immediately woke up.

“[y/n]? What are you doing here?” he asked in his raspy voice. His low tone made you shiver.

“Do you not remember last night?” you asked, trying to sound confident.

“No… we were out drinking! And those stupid friends of yours were forcing you to drink… Then I drank a lot…. And then?”

“And then?” you urged him.

He didn’t answer.

You sighed in relief. He’s forgotten!

You heard rustling and Jinjin got up and walked to the bathroom. Or at least, that’s what you thought he was doing, but he actually left the house.

When breakfast was ready and you couldn’t find him anywhere, you got concerned and began to call him. No answer.

You sat at the small table outside his kitchen, sighing at the food in front of you. Where had this man left in his pyjamas?

After a few minutes, you heard the doorknob turning and Jinjin walked in… with a whole bouquet of flowers in his hands. Your first reaction was to laugh, because his hair was a mess and his face was so puffy and tired, but this man was holding the prettiest flowers… it was irony in the flesh.

“[y/n],” he said, kicking off his shoes and cutely hobbling over towards you.

“What is it?” you asked, still trying not to laugh.

“I’m sorry that it turned out this way, but… I like you.”

Hearing that just made you laugh even harder - why were you laughing so much today? Just the fact that this man had already confessed yesterday without knowing and was doing it today too… for some reason that was funny.

“You’re laughing?” Jinjin asked, starting to also laugh himself.

“Okay, yes, I know. It’s Valentine’s day and I should have done something better, but when I woke up and you were next to me, there wasn’t much I could do! I had different plans… I was going to confess to you right when I saw you, and I was planning to look nicer than I do now, but-”

“You look great,” you said, your laughter having ceased now. 

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“No, I swear. These flowers are so pretty, too.”

“Did you hear anything I said?”

“Yes, Jinjin. And I heard you yesterday too, when you drunkenly said that you like me.”

“I… said that yesterday?” Jinjin asked, his legs giving out as he fell onto the chair across from you.

“Yes, you did. And… you were really cute,” you said, mumbling the last part.

“Well, what did you say?” Jinjin asked, awaiting your response.

“I…” You froze. It was easier to tell him how you felt last night when he was drunk and out of it, but now you were afraid. 

What was there to be afraid of when Jinjin already liked you?!

You took a deep breath before speaking.

“I said I like you too?”

“Really?” Jinjin asked, standing up and excitedly running around his tiny dorm.

You laughed, watching your senior and now boyfriend yell while the food in front of you continued to get cold. Weirdly enough, even the flowers looked like they were smiling at you.