#maybe Phantom starts wearing a mask in this AU?

[simplykaren]

Potential demon twins/siblings/other relatives AU where half the reason Danny hates Vlad so much is him trying desperately to avoid LoA notice. Vlad's exactly the type of rich, unscrupulous Fruitloop to be on Ra's's radar, which would put Danny back on his radar if Vlad hangs around enough. Danny's not sure he'd be able to escape a second time, even with his powers.

[muchmossymess]

GUYS okay hear me out majoras mask boat boys au

I love legend of zelda I love boat boys this is like the ultimate combination of my interests you cannot understand the brainrot. Idk what to call it yet tho... majoras minecraft? Anyway prepare for an essay

OKAY so we have the Hero of Time, Etho, who stopped ganons plans before they started, and would be stuck in a child's body if not for the fact I think that'd be a lil weird for the more shippy aspects of this au that all the running through time aged his soul and his body followed suit (he's still got a young appearance, and the mask doesn't make him look older like he thinks). Same reason he has the scar over his eye (from the ganon fight); no matter how much the body may heal or rewind the mind will not forget.

Then navi (maybe bdubs?) left him, and he went with epona (maybe bdubs instead? (eponas a horse iydk)) and he sets out on a journey aka the beginning of mm:

Wandering through the woods on epona, gets jumped by skull kid. For those unaware, there is skull kid, a lonely lil sweetheart, and he wears the mask, an entity on its own. He also has two fairies, siblings tael and tatl.

So I was a little unsure about this for a while, but I think I've decided on grian for the skull kid and Jimmy for tael, grian bc watchers and Jimmy bc skull kid is not very nice to tael (bc of the mask) and like a listeners reference or smth blah blah blah

TATL. that's who's interesting. At the beginning she gets separated from her friends and becomes your companion. So naturally for this au she is our favourite joel smallishbeans. It works so well. Tatl is mean but cares, and that's joels dynamic with the bad boys and with etho, guys it's literally perfect idc what you say

I think it doesn't change much throughout like the story of the game, but just taking dialogue tatl says to link and its so perfect for a sassy joel to a "can't believe I'm dealing with this shit again" etho. Uh one thing different though; in hylian form etho doesn't have an ocarina but instead a mini marimba. Just because. I think it's cool, and for potential things later on.

Now, fairies in this au are just tiny glowing people shaped things with wings. The glow around them is their magic, and depending on emotions/energy the brightness changes (thats why they look like flying balls of light). Some fairies have the ability to make projections of themselves, more hylian sized in nature. This can be intimidation or distraction or w/e, but they cant do it for long periods of time bc its exhausting. These forms aren't physical. Just sized up light projections of their actual bodies.

So for a lot of their journey, joel is just a cute pocket sized ball of rage and sarcasm, who helps with ethos aim for fighting. Bc that's a game mechanic and also ethos like half blind. But like when joel calms down imagine him crawling into ethos hat and just dozing off. He can fit in the palm of your hand like guys it's so cute. But he is also capable of being worse than a mozzie

Oh probably a good point to put in what I imagine etho looks like. So it's typical link green (maybe a bit dampened?), weird pointy hat, short hair (white ofc), his shirt is more of a jacket with a fluffy cold weather collar, it's a bit too big for him but he knows he'll grow into it, he's all knobbly and thin (underfed a lil, boy was never taught how to care for himself beyond basic survival). His injured eye is red bc of ganon, and often gives him phantom pains. It can't be healed.

Anyway, at some point in their journey together, etho and joel learn a song that let's fairies have a larger physical form, no wings, sorta like the great fairies (who they learnt it from prolly). It isn't permanent, slowly draining ethos magic meter, the spell ends when you run out of magic. This is because I want them to actually be able to stand side by side or maybe hug, and also bc its hard to block a blow with your body when ur tennis ball sized.

Aaaaand, this ties back in with with marimba. What if ethos injured, or unconscious, and he obviously can't defend himself, so joel panics and plays the marimba in what he hopes is the right order to give himself a body. I imagine that being that small, you could not play an ocarina. And hey maybe joel carries etho away after that, and when the spell ends he has barely any light emitting from himself because he spent nearly all his magic (what he is made of) saving etho.

But this song isn't used much, because of its draining nature, and you can't really do any other magic things while it's going. So it's mostly just in the final fight (over and over) or tough moments or maybe joel wants to experience something like hoe hylians do. It's obviously inferior to how he experiences things as a fairy, of course, he's just curious thats all. He totally doesn't want etho to do it more.

Okay I think ill sorta stop here, I am NOT done, I will probably post some art I've done for this later lol, and I want help with who everyone else is (mumbo is the moon. You cannot stop me nor change my mind) with mcyts to npcs

[unovanhunny]

You have so many aus already maybe you've already done something like this but have you ever done a phantom thief au? Y'know something akin to kaito kid from case closed, or lupin the third (who is himself inspired from Arsene Lupin the one who arguably started it all).

I dunno, I feel like years ago there were plenty of phantom thief aus. But it seems to have fallen to the wayside...

Tbf my biggest manga knowledge on Phantom Thieves is Man of Many Faces by Clamp, but I know what you mean. And you know what, I can definitely make an AU out of this.

Twins separated at a young age, one gets into detective work and the other falls in with a strange crowd that starts with petty theft and evolves into more fun elaborate schemes. Ingo can be the detective and Emmet can be the thief I think. A Phantom Thief all in white is a fun image and also Emmet loves to entertain and a Big Factor of Phantom Thieves is their presentation and calling cards left at their crime scenes.

Emmet meticulously working on making the next reveal even more fun and fancy! He wants to kinda maybe impress that one detective he keeps seeing at the crime scenes as he watches from afar to see how the theft is received. He seems so serious, he just wants to make him smile once! Yes that's counterproductive when he is actively stealing things, but still!

Ingo is getting frustrated at how this thief keeps getting away with these crimes when there's so much set up involved in his heists! But... He has to admit it's also fun. To see what the thief has set up for him to find. He has never successfully caught a glimpse of the thief but he is determined to, it's his life's work now. Trying to figure out where he'll strike next before he gets the chance to, figuring out his moves before he makes them.

And they get the chance to meet once. Emmet's plans are foiled but he doesn't get caught. They met eyes, their faces were close, and though Emmet was wearing a mask, Ingo may have felt his heart skip a beat, seeing this Smiling Man in White. He let him go, not intentionally, but in the moment they met, Ingo got so surprisingly flustered, he didn't react quick enough before Emmet was Gone.

They are both determined to run into each other again. To capture or to kiss-

[niigo-but-criminals]

Intro post (ooc)

Run by @whatliesbehind-whatliesahead

putting this on all my rp blogs: this account will probably not be very active unless i get asks!! i am just one little girl with so many sideblogs!!! and i've got school and i'm also like, constantly tired!!! so sorry for the inactiveness :((

okay uhh lore time!!

so basically in this au niigo is a silly group of criminals (they kinda remind me of team rocket a little bit) and that's kinda it

Ena's text is orange and their tag is #Painter's canvas Ena uses they/he/she and looks pretty much like how they look in the header image besides them having more orange-y eyes

Kanade's text is blue and their tag is #Piano's melodies They use they/them and don't look like their card in the header at ALL because there's no card for how they look in my head. They usually wear a light blue sweater and like.. A pair of shorts. Nothing too elaborate. Their hair is also shorter (maybe around below shoulder length?)

Mafuyu's text is purple and their tag is #Puppet's mask Mafuyu uses she/they and looks like their card in the header with the addition of the mask from the trained version of the my true feelings card when they're outdoors and doing crime

Mizuki's text is pink and their tag is #Phantom's jewels Mizuki uses they/she and looks exactly like their card in the header. I actually have nothing else to say about them because their card in the header is exactly what they look like..

also they wear casual clothes at home/when not doing crime (kinda obvious)

Everyone's got aliases like in the game. Kanade is Piano, Mafuyu is Puppet, Ena is Painter, and Mizuki is Phantom. No i dont know why they all start with p.

forgot to mention but everyone's aged up. how old? uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh like 20 or something i haven't thought it out

Asks will be tagged with #Asks (woah shocking/s) Responses with all four of them will be tagged #Great at crime!

I don't mind ships buuttttt i'll probably only do them when prompted (might do a little mizuan/polyniigo though)

ooc is #Bad at crime

that's it!! this took me so long to type out augh

[eihwaz-y-d]

So I'm currently hyperfixed on Danny Phantom and DC crossover and I really enjoyed reading Danny and Damian are twins Au. I read a lot fics and promps but they aren't enough ( there are never enough great fics in this world) and I got inspired and got this idea and it won't let go of me.... So I decided to get it out of my system so that I can concentrate on my exams but I also want people to read and tell me their thoughts about it. So I thought I share the "rough work" and later I will edit and post it on AO3 but yeah. (some infos before I do know nothing and do what I want)

Here my work in process :

Twin skeletons

Danny just wanted to go to the astronomy exhibition in Natural History museum of Gotham city, just for some peaceful hours there nothing bothers him, maybe even go to the apartly new planetarium. Being away from Amity Park, his ghost hunting parents with their obsession with ripping him apart molecule by molecule and the whole ghost attacks  (he would be able to get a few more hours of sleep) was just a plus.

He was excited about the trip! His core was humming and he felt at ease, no ghost fighting and no one hunting him for a few days, just some peaceful days in the most crime ridden city in the United States. It would be like a vacation. 

But Danny should have known better than to get his hopes up, nothing ever goes according to plan for him. 

And let's be honest here, he really should have known better, his school trip goes to Gotham city of all places, the most dangerous city in the United States (one can never say it enough). Who in their right mind even though it was a good idea to take a few teenager, who only knows danger in form from ghost attacks and the driving skills of the Fenton family and have no sense of self protection, and take them to a big city overrun with guns and drugs and psychotic criminals and crime fighting vigilantes? The adults of Amity Park apartly. (maybe the adults have also lost every ounce of common sense they owned other the last two and a half years) 

But that is beside the point, the point is Danny just wanted to see the astronomy exhibition, not held at gunpoint from a red helmet vigilante,with really strange vibes that made his ghost sense go harwire, after some criminal bombed the museum and held them hostage for whatever reason.

The first day started so promisingly well, they were supposed to get a tour through Wayne Enterprise. The tour through Wayne Enterprise went pretty well and was interesting, if not a little bit strange. Danny had the feeling everyone at the company was looking at him then he wasn't looking. It was probably nothing, it happens in Amity Park all the time(he just ignores the fact that he is not in Amity anymore and the usual reasons he is in the middle of the attention, his parents or the ghosts, are not here at the moment. And he is pretty sure he is Danny not Phantom). 

The second day they had the Museum tour where they could room afterwards as much as they liked and Danny really, really wanted some time without Dash being the bully that he is. The tour was nice, and just as the nice lady wanted to finish the tour, somewhere in the building an explosion went off. 

The lady shrieked, Danny's classmates are either looking curious for the source or talking about ghost attacks vs. Criminals, while Mr. Lancer tries and fails to get everyone to calm down so they could evacuate and Danny just curses his rotten luck. 

The next thing they knew, there were masked criminals binding them with zip ties and taking them hostage because 'if we take hostages we have a better chance of getting away from the bats'. Their words, not Danny's. 

Not fifteen minutes afterwards -Danny thought about the pros and cons about doing something against these criminals himself - a red helmeted, leather wearing hero comes gun shooting towards their rescue. 

Hooray, lucky them. 

And now, he has the gun pointed towards his face. 

"What the fuck are you?!" Besides the electronic modulation, his growl was pretty impressive or a living human, although Danny was still not sure if the hero really was living. 

"Okay, first of all, rude. Second, what is your problem? And third, could you take the gun out of my face? I really like my shirt and it would be a shame if it got ruined with blood and brain mass." 

Red Hood did nothing for a long time but then he lowered his gun but did not put it away. Waving a hand behind himself in the vague direction of his class, grinning Danny speaks again. 

" Are we free to go? I think my teacher is either having a stroke soon or he thinks about taking you on, it will probably be a lecture about treating kids. On a second thought. Please do shoot, I'm not keen on being lectured again, but don't ruin my shirt. I want to be buried in it. "

Red Hood's hand twitched and Danny grin grew even larger, showing his set of fangs. It's a shame Danny can't see the hero's face, it would be hilarious to read his reaction but the helm or the modified voice didn't give away a hint of his thoughts but Danny hoped he was at least a little bit irrational.

"Whatever kid." 

Danny waved goodbye before going back to his classmates. 

Red Hood just stayed long enough to see the boy looking towards his teacher with what looks like his best innocent face. "Mr. Lancer, I suppose we can't perhaps go back towards the astronomy exhibition?" 

The teacher just signs and guides his snickering students out of the museum.

What the hell was wrong with the kid?! 

Jason knew he needed to tell Bruce about the kid, he was nearly a carbon copy of the demon brat, and another Robin clone was never a good thing, especially now then something big is about to happen and there is yet not enough to say what. 

He should really tell Bruce, Jason knew it but something tells him not to. The moment the kid stood behind Jason's back, he thought there was something dangerous, something absolutely terrifying, something that made the Lazarus water go crazy -and for a moment Jason thought he would go into the pit madness- but than it goes all quite, like the Lazarus water itself recognize the Apex predator and hides into the deep of Jason's soul. And it hadn't raised its head ever since. For the first time since his return his mind was quiet and peaceful. 

He should really tell Bruce about this kid. If he really is a clone of Damian, then….. Jason does not know but it would only end apocalyptic bad. And if he is no clone then it wouldn't automatically be better. 

Grinding his teeth, he dials Dick's number.

It didn't take long for the older man to answer. The surprise was clear in his voice. 

" Hey Jason. Weren't you-" 

But Jason didn't let him finish. "Dick listen, I-.... There…." 

He doesn't know how to say it, or what to say first. Fortunately Dick just wait patiently for Jason to speak again, There must be something in his voice that makes him listen. 

" I was at the museum when the hostage situation happened, there was a kid. There…. There was something about the kid. Something dangerous. I put a gun to his head and It frightened the Lazarus water. "

" What do you mean 'put a gun to his Head'?! Jason?! Wait-.... Did you say he 'frightened the Lazarus water'?"

"  Yes, I don't know how else to describe it. The Kid made the pit gone quiet, it's not gone but it's feels like it's hiding and it is quiet and…. peaceful in my mind for the first time since…. Since I returned. Dick. My thoughts, my mind, my emotions, they are my own again without fighting this damned madness."

He took a deep breath but before he can continue Dick speaks first. 

"Jason…" 

" I'm not finished. That isn't the only thing about this kid. This kid, he could be a carbon copy of the demon brat, maybe it's another clone, maybe it's not but Dick… I have the feeling the kid isn't human, he is dangerous and if he stands against us…. I don't think we stand a chance. "

The older man is quite for a long time and then he speaks again, his tone is dead serious. 

" We need to inform Bruce. "

With a deep Sigh, Jason answered. " I feared you would say that. "

Edit: Part 2

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Prompt idea: Danny is Damian twin but he doesn't want to meet his biological family.

In this AU Jack and Maddie are really good parents. They know about phantom and are proud but more guilty about half killing Danny.

Let's say they were the day of the accident.

They spend a lot more time with their kids, only making things in their lab that could help phantom. Learn more about ghost lore. And adopt Dani if exist.

I don't know what Maddie and Jack will do when learn all about Vlads shit.

Anyway let's say Danny developed pstd about billionaires and pushy people because of Vlads.

For whatever reason Bruce learn about Danny and send a letter about meeting IRL. He didnt expect to get rejected.

You can start a plot about Bruce forcedly inserting in Danny life. Danny treating Bruce the same way as Vlads. I know they are nothing alike but Danny has his trauma about billionaires.

Of this is going to be so much worse for Danny if the entirety of the batfam get involved. That's a lot of people to be pestering/stalking you even without the ptsd.

I imagine the Fentons become super protective of thier youngest because if this. Things heat up when Bruce finds out about the portal and then Phantom because Danny doesn't wear a mask and isn't exactly subtle. This leads to an investigation that might lead to Jack and Maddie (and eventually the GIW) being arrested and facing serious charges.

Maybe Jazz adopts him? Maybe Danny flees into the GZ? Either way the batfam are surprised Danny wants nothing to do with them. They might starts claiming stalkholm syndrome or something since Danny isn't holding anything his parents have done against them. Either way they're trying to "recue thier baby brother" and ignore any attempts he makes to get them to leave him alone.

I love the angst potential

[brendathedoodler]

Hiiii I love your adventure swap au! Currently obsessing over Hyrule with Time's adventures. I have so many questions! Does he resent the sword too? How does he cope with all the ✨️Trauma✨️? Thank you for reading this!

Hyrule doesn’t necessarily resent the Master Sword, but it feels heavy. It was a burden that was placed on him far too young, and he can’t help but view the sword as a representation of the things he was chosen to endure. When he learns about Fi from Wild and Sky, he feels a bit guilty for how he views the sword, but tries to assure himself that it’s not that he dislikes Fi, it’s that he dislikes the thing her blade represents. (Maybe he wishes that Fi had been awake during his journey. Maybe if she had, he wouldn’t have felt so alone.)

Adding a cut here because it gets more into Hyrule’s trauma and how he copes. Nothing too serious or graphic, but it is a little heavy

Hyrule is at a particularly tough time in his life. He’s 17, right at the age he woke up at. He’d been sent back to live his childhood, yes, but he still remembers what it was like to be 10 years old in a 17 year old’s body. He distinctly remembers how wrong and unnatural it felt to simply exist in a nearly adult body, and even though he’s now grown into it naturally, he still clearly remembers a time when it had felt wrong, and those feelings linger like phantom sensations.

He doesn’t really know how to deal with it. He does what he can, doing his best to assure himself that this too shall pass (even if a part of his mind whispers doubts. He’d lived through a time where it wouldn’t pass, after all. Can he truly be sure it won’t happen again?). He doesn’t know how to combat the feeling of wrongness, so he just tries to do other things to help soothe it. He wears his favorite clothes frequently so that the comforting texture and shape won’t make him feel any worse, he does his best to keep his hands busy with his instruments even when he’s not playing, and if he gets too overwhelmed with it he shifts into his fairy form for a break. It’s always felt more natural than his Hylian form, after all.

When he was younger and got dragged into the war of eras, he expressed a lot of the complicated feelings he was going through by causing trouble. The Fierce Deity mask had seared marks onto his face and stolen the color from his eyes. Others found him creepy, and he leaned into it heavily. Getting a reaction out of adults was incredibly fun, but it also made it easier to handle the sort of rejection he was often facing. If he intentionally acted weird and creepy and found amusement in it, then it wouldn’t hurt so much when other people found him weird and creepy.

Meeting Time, Sky, and Wind’s Grandma during the war across eras was a huge help. Wind’s Grandma acted as both a comforting and an authority figure, Sky quickly got used to his antics and became a sort of older brother figure, and Time was the first kid his age that he didn’t feel completely disconnected with. Saying goodbye to them was difficult, but they all left lasting impacts on him and helped him start finding ways to cope with his struggles on his own.

Now that he’s reunited with some of them and met other heroes like him, he tries to figure out how they cope. He’s basically taking notes on how all of them cope, especially Time. Hyrule really starts looking up to time, especially after seeing him grow into someone who healed. If Time can do it, then so can he. It gives him hope that this rough time really will get better.

He struggles to sleep without playing a particular magic song to soothe himself (but even then it doesn’t work on the full moon). He struggles to find a balance between comforting solitude and being lonely, even among a group of people he considers brothers. He struggles with emotions he can’t put a name to and feelings he doesn’t know what to do with.

Despite these struggles, he’s not alone. He’s doing alright, and even if he often feels lost, uncertain, or just plain wrong, he’s working hard to help himself and heal.

[aterfish]

For the Hazmat/Containment Breach AU would Danny initially try to pretend to other people that he's just using advanced Fenton tech? Not his parents of course, scatter brained as they are they know what stuff they have created and put into every suit they make. But the civilian populace. Imagine an Amity that doesn't have a Ghost Boy protecting them, but a mysterious man with in a Hazmat suit a strange presence to him. Sure he helps and is a decent enough guy, but there's something off about him. Something in the back of your head that whispers that this man shouldn't be here. The slow creeping dread of the people as they watch his suit torn apart more and more, the rising evidence of inhumanity growing and growing, until suddenly they see the void of green stars in a humanoid adjacent form, and realise that whatever was in that suit was not a man, and had not been a man in a long time.

Also, just people initially thinking Hazmat Danny is a grown man because the suit masks all identifying features like build, voice, etc, that would show that Phantom is a kid.

Sidenote: When I read that the Suit heavily restricts much of his initial strength, agility, and mobility in favour of making Danny a tank what does that mean in the future? Does Danny struggle not weighing like a thousand pounds and being figuratively or literally weightless? Does he need to learn to adjust his fighting style to stop taking hits that he cannot afford to anymore? Does the suit act as a restraining bolt on all his abilities and the moment it is gone suddenly Danny has been thrown leaps and bounds ahead of all of his enemies because he has been wearing restrictive gear and now he is free and stronger for having trained under such arduous conditions. I just love the idea that someone breaks the suit and thinks it is an instant win now, only for Danny to suddenly be able to effortlessly kick their ass.

If Danny is catapulted to an insane level of power when the suit comes of, I do wonder how he and everyone would react to this? His loved ones are probably glad he might stop getting hurt so much. Danny might initially relish the power boost but learn to fear it because good god does he not know how to handle this. His parents and maybe even a lot of the people of Amity are probably terrified about what this means now that this super powerful ghost is no longer holding back, a fear only compounded by the inevitable rise in collateral damage now that Danny has lost all of his skill in exchange for absurd power.

Okay, heck yes thank you for this.

Because the suit blocks every power he uses to dissapear afer a fight in canon, here he has to literally walk away and hide so he can change to human form and then use his, slightly better then in canon but still weak, powers to get invisible and intangible.

So he quickly finds out it's easier to not fight in sight if possible.

Combined with how the suit makes his voice more muffled and echoing (can't be heard in fights means no quips, sorry), Danny is basically bearly seen, silent, all spooky and glowy in public. A cryptid.

That means when someone sees him they are more concerned about what they are even seeing and not the spicy details like who created the suit.

And even when people start to talk, there are so many theories based on single encounters that almost noone is even close to the truth.

Right after Danny looses the suit, he is overcharged, overpowered and totally not prepared.

As he stabilizes he has to relearn how to fight and for a bit he's basically a glass cannon. Good thing he has friends that can help.

I wonder what habits are going to stay tho 👀

[deceitful-darlings]

i know you’re tired of the evil au but could i interest you in another au?

so basically how about the phantom of the opera au? after thinking for it a bit i think the best characters for this au would be Idia and (honestly any first year would be fine for this but just for this i’ll use Deuce). the reason i chose Idia (when i think Vil or maybe even Azul would work well with this) is because of Idia’s insecurity issues and how Erik also has insecurity issues (especially because of his deformities and that being the reason why he wears the mask; but with insecurity issues being mostly the reason why i chose idia i feel like any other twst character would work well because of that reason but we’ll go with Idia for now)

With Deuce visiting his parents (and his parents being patrons of the opera house they of course go to a show) where they see reader singing so beautifully, reigniting Deuce’s childhood crush for her, he goes to visit her in her dressing room but hears her talking to another male voice. of course she denies having any other male in her room but Deuce knows what he heard. meanwhile Idia makes demands to the manager (Crowley) of the opera house to have reader sing the lead role and have the 5th balcony seating empty for the phantoms use but Crowley ignores the demands thinking it only to be a prank resulting in the original main singer croaking and the chandelier dropping onto the audience, killing a spectator. Reader is abducted from her dressing room and “the phantom” reveals himself as Idia.

(i do not know how to continue this sadly. but i’d love your input with this)

Ok, but I love this idea?

Now, for the original premise of The Phantom of the Opera, where Eric was born with his deformities (please help me find a better word, I really don’t like using deformities to describe conditions people are born with, but it was 2am and I can’t think), Idia certain fits the bill better, his otaku personality focused on the opera, the characters, having memorised the scripts of by heart, obsessing over actors and playwrights alike, his life consumed by these performances to distract from his own loneliness. Despite being the older son, due to his deformities, his younger brother is the one who takes over the family business, Ortho is one of the few people who treats him likes he’s human, and he’s determined to make it so his big brother can live as happy a life as he can give him, starting with the mask that covers his face.

Not taking over the company gives him all the time in the world to focus on the opera, but unlike Eric he isn’t skilled at singing, he cares far more about being able to listen to the singing of the amazing actors, basically setting up his living quarters in the tunnels and aqueduct that run under the opera house to spend as much time getting to know their schedules and their most intimate thoughts, he invests every waking moment to them. So of course he knows the comings and goings of said actors.

He’d heard about the arrival of new talents months prior, the management had been discussing needing some more background performers for their newer works being showed. So when some new faces pop up around the theatre he isn’t surprised, some of them are ok, some are arrogant, but there isn’t anyone as grateful as you seem to be. There wasn’t anything amazing about you in comparison to the other actors, but there was just something about the awestruck expression that graced your features, the look of absolute wonderment as you walked the halls of the theatre that broke into a lovely smile when you reached your dressing room that just made him stop. Were you as loving of the opera as he was? Were you one of the ones performing out of love rather than to become famous and make money?

You quickly become his favourite, he’s your biggest fan, even when you start and your rolls are only background parts and supporting vocals. He expresses his love to the theatre as he also does, using gifts obtained from the family business from his brother, the theatre don’t ask questions, taking the technology he provides to improve their upcoming shows. These advancements soon make it so the theatre becomes one of the most modern of the era, and all he demands in return is that your role becomes larger. So that’s how you end up playing the main character in the upcoming show, and of course Idia is there to watch, but unbeknownst to him, there’s someone familiar in the crowd.

Now, I made Deuce the prince in the swan lake au, so I’d probably swap him out in that for another character because Deuce fits the crushing childhood friend roll better than, say, Silver, but whoever ends up as your friend, he either bought or won the ticket to the show, and upon seeing you on stage they remember your shared childhood , extremely proud that you’ve managed to achieve your dreams. He goes to congratulate you after the show only to hear you talking with someone.

Whereas for the few versions where he was written as being the victim of an acid attack, I think Vil suits it more. A rising star of the opera scene who was attacked because of envy, hatred, or revenge since these stories love their family feuds, as someone who was so obsessed with perfection he can’t help but hate his face now and no longer performs. But thanks to his father’s influence, he can at least still be around the stage secretly, since he had worked there he knows the theatre, it’s secret tunnels and hidden areas like the back of his hand so he can navigate the place unseen.

He takes a new promising performer under his wing, she’s a diamond in the rough, her voice good but not reaching its full potential. It would be a travesty not to nurture it, and she listens to him, only scared for a moment when she hears his voice through the dressing room wall until she hears his comments on her performance, spoken like an expert she’s soon enraptured, taking in his words carefully and he soon becomes her teacher. She surpasses her peers quickly with his strict training, her Angel of Music guiding her firmly, never missing a performance of hers and she only ever shows him her best, it would be an insult to her teacher not to. He will accept nothing but perfection from her, and there is a level of smugness he gets from watching her that makes all the work he does secretly behind the scenes to improve the show as a whole not seem as bad.

But of course neither is happy with the arrival of Deuce Spade, the love rival that appears at the end of the first act only to be show to have long lasting connections with the female lead that the male lead will never understand, or the country bumpkin trying to make the flower he had nurtured so carefully into its first blossom wilt once more. They can’t allow it, you belong to the theatre, you belong to them.

[cerezatodd]

This is a bullet point about The Legend of Zelda

and some things that could confuse you while getting into the Fandom.

I want to start with the misconceptions caused by the "Linked Universe" AU.

When I was first starting into the fandom, because I saw a gameplay of Skyward Sword, I found myself with a lot of information that left me confused for months: ¿how many adventures does the Hero of Legend have had? ¿Is the Spirits Tracks a different Hero or the same of the Wind Waker? ¿Are the Hero of Men, the Hero of the Minish, and the Hero of the Four Sword the same person?

Etc. Etc.

And a lot of this came from me finding the first post about the "Linked Universe" before finding content exclusive to a specific game.

So... let me clarify some things:

The Hero of Legend is NOT the same as the Hero from "A Link Between Worlds"

They are different people. They are, in the same timeline, separated by a couple of generations. The Hero from "A Link Between Worlds" is the NEW HERO OF HYRULE (or The Hero from In-Between).

Legend is the Link with more games/adventures under his belt. He doesn't need any more.

The New Hero of Hyrule did the costume changes before it was cool.

Before "Breath of the Wild", go ahead and point one single Link who was more than ok with wearing women's clothing or other costumes. Nintendo literally gave the fandom a reason to confuse Link with Zelda en "Tri Force Heros" and I love it.

The Hero of Warriors is NOT Narcissistic.

Just because he is cute, people tend to think that he is obsessed with his looks. He is not.

He does get his pride up the roof in part of the campaign of "Hyrule Warriors", but so does the player. And both get pushed down a notch by the game itself.

As a High Ranking Militar, he may care for how is presented. But he's still a soldier. He is not going to kick a fuse for a scratch nor for a black eye.

Same as with Legend. The Hero from "Spirit Tracks" is a separated person from the Hero of Winds.

Again, separated for a couple of generations. We have confirmation in-game.

The Hero of Men, the Hero of the Minish, the Hero of the Four Sword, and the Hero of Light are different people.

The first only appeared in a legend in-game.

The second is from "The Minish Cap", where Vati appears for the first time. He is the grandson of a Smithy

The third is the immediate successor of the last one.

The last one is way down the line in the Child Timeline, in "Four Swords Adventures". He is the one with the manga in which Dark Link is his own character. Also, Dark Link tends to be a Demon with Link's form, not his shadow.

If you want to make a fic about all the Link's meet, you CAN say that the Hero of Time and the Hero of Warriors never meet before.

Because Time was a DLC character that was never introduced in the campaign of "Hyrule Warriors", any edition.

What would be nice will be if you point out that Warriors is Time and Twilight's direct descendent. That nose speaks for itself (just check the official art).

There is only ONE reincarnation of Hylia, and that's "Skyward Sword" Zelda.

The rest are her descendants.

There's probably more but those are the ones that bother me the most.

The "Linked Universe" is an amazing fan project and I applaud the author for still going strong with it, especially because it brings so much creativity from the fandom. And I do understand the need to keep the character roster of the story small, to compress some Links into a single character.

But, if the "Linked Universe" is your first or only exposure with the franchise, you're leaving interesting characters aside.

My suggestion: if you don't want to play or watch the games, check the wiki. Is the easiest way to know what belongs to who and, maybe, understand why the fandom tends to sway one way or another in respect of a character.

And, if you want reinterpretation of the games, some of them have Mangas (Ocarina of Time, Majora's Mask, Twilight Princess, Four Sword's Adventure, The Wind Waker, Phantom Hourglass, the Minish Cap).

And they are good.

[gukyi]

the heiress and the hotelier | ksj

summary: when you share a kiss with a mysterious but gorgeous stranger on the night of your unwanted, lavish masquerade birthday party, the last thing you expect is for him to vanish at midnight on the dot. but when, as punishment for always arguing with him, your father assigns you to oversee the company’s newest resort hotel, you begin to realize that the handsome stranger may be closer than you think.

{cinderella!au, heiress reader!au, hotelier seokjin!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 21k warnings: alcohol consumption (nothing major), workaholic characters, face blindness, idiots to lovers a/n: hello and welcome to guyi is a nonstop writer!! that’s the fuck right !!!! thank you so much to @aurawatercolor​ for commissioning me for this (again!) and for being genuinely wonderful. happy birthday! oh--and i’ll be on a socially-distanced vacation this upcoming week, so i’ll be a little more inactive than usual, but here’s this fic to keep you occupied while i’m gone!

Your birthdays have never belonged to you.

Not when you were little, when your mother was always the most excited for you to open your presents and host your birthday party. Not when you were older, and your parents started using your age as a reason for you to start learning the inner workings of the family business under the understanding that you would one day inherit it. And certainly not when you’re an adult, when all your birthdays ever remind you of are the years gone by, blowing past you like dandelion wisps, glimpses of memories that are too nimble to catch between your fingertips. 

When people say that time goes by faster as you get older, they aren’t saying it because your life is getting exponentially more interesting with each day that passes. They aren’t saying it because you’re having more fun or doing more things, things that distract you to the point of looking out your window and realizing that it’s dark outside. 

They say it because the more years that you have lived, the more years you have to remember. And when you have to recall something as overwhelming as your life, your brain makes shortcuts. The days, weeks, and months blur together, leaving behind snippets from events that your memory deems worthy, events that have become less and less frequent with time. You can’t remember the last major celebration you had. Perhaps your university graduation?

The thing about birthdays is that you know that there will always be one next year. So why bother with celebrating now?

You would give anything to have everyone pretend that your birthday is just a normal day. 

Unfortunately for you, you are the only one in your family who seems to have adopted this mindset. 

Heaving out a sigh, you look at yourself in the mirror, reflection bathed in the white light of the bathroom, stark and unforgiving. In the merciless glow of the bathroom, you barely recognize yourself. Gone are the deep eye bags that you’ve so dearly acquainted yourself with, tired eyes covered with contacts to bring back the shimmer that has long been lost. You gaze into your eyes and they don’t even feel like they’re yours anymore. 

In your hand sits the masquerade mask you had ripped off the moment you entered the bathroom, having been desperate to take it off from the minute you arrived at the hotel. The feathers brush against your skin, soft and black, a custom-made accessory designed to match your gown, an ink black floor-length piece with onyx gems that sparkle silver in the light. 

Hoseok was going for a black swan theme—said that it would match your personality perfectly. You’re not exactly sure what he meant by that. 

Frantically, like there is a timer ticking down inside of you that you cannot turn off, you pull the mask back on, adjusting it over your eyes until it sits just right, resting atop the bridge of your nose. Hiding behind it, you can almost deceive yourself into thinking, if only for this one night, you are someone else. 

The door swings open next to you, revealing a guest that you don’t recognize, someone on the list of hundreds that your mother invited, none of whom you know very well and could certainly not identify beneath a masquerade mask. She smiles in that polite, awkward way as she rushes into a stall, deep maroon train trailing behind her, leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place, having no desire to go back out into the fray but also not wanting to stay in the bathroom and listen to other people do their business. 

Thank God she didn’t recognize you. Your mother was insistent that you be recognized as the guest of honor despite the whole point of a masquerade party being the inability to correctly identify people, so you might as well be walking around in a t-shirt with your face on it. At least the mask is doing something. 

You blink at yourself, hoping that maybe if you close your eyes enough, when you open them you’ll be someone else. When that doesn’t seem to work, you take a breath and fix your mask one last time before heading back into the ballroom. 

Immediately, amongst the crowd of people, all of whom are only here to elevate their own statuses by being associated with an event hosted by your family, you spot the back of Jungkook’s head, deep brunette tufts of hair deftly styled by a whole team of people, a slicked back, Phantom of the Opera style. He’s got on a tuxedo and mask to match, but even with that on you could recognize him in your sleep. He is your brother, after all. 

He’s talking animatedly with the pianist, an old mutual friend of your family’s named Yoongi, who isn’t wearing a mask and is thus immediately identifiable. Not to mention the fact that your family has known his since before you learned to walk. As you get closer to them, you notice that his maskless-ness is because Jungkook’s got it snatched up in between his fingers, dangling it in front of Yoongi like the taunting claw of a rigged toy machine. You decide not to bother them. He’s always been closer with Jungkook, anyway.

You really wish your mother better understood what a masquerade-themed party meant. You can’t get more than three steps in before being stopped by someone you can hardly recognize, all smiles for the birthday girl. They wish you a happy birthday and give you a lifeless compliment that goes in one ear and out the other before going on their way, positively thrilled that they’ve been invited to an event as grand as this and determined to make the most of it. 

Eventually, after far too many interruptions, you make it to the catering table, helping yourself to a piece of the five-tiered, golden-iced cake your parents had ordered. At least they got your favorite flavor right—chocolate and vanilla swirl. You wait happily beside the rest of the catered food as you eat, hoping that you are just out of reach enough to go unnoticed. The least your birthday party guests could do is leave you alone. 

“Y/N!”

Never mind. 

You look up to the source of the sound and find only your father approaching, all dressed up in a crisp suit from the same tailors that made Jungkook’s. He isn’t wearing a mask and apparently doesn’t need one, since it is your birthday and not his. Not a good enough excuse, in your opinion. 

“Dad,” you say with a smile, wiping away the icing you feel sitting just off the corner of your lips. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks heartily, all smiles because he’s always felt rather at home surrounded by this sort of grandeur, almost as much as your mother. No wonder the two of them get along so well. 

“The cake is nice,” you dodge the question. 

“Ah, glad you like it,” he says, helping himself to his own piece. “We were going to get red velvet but then Jungkook reminded us your favorite flavor was the swirly one,” he laughs to himself, like it’s funny that they almost got it wrong. “Had to call the bakery last minute and change it.”

You purse your lips together in a tense smile, fork picking at the crumbs left on your plate. 

“Have you been chatting with your friends?” He asks. 

“Here and there,” you respond. Nobody here, except perhaps Jungkook and Yoongi, would be people you considered friends. Acquaintances at best. And besides, it’s not like you can even identify half of the attendees anyway. “You?” You always do much better when the topic of conversation is not your social life. 

“Ah, yes, of course, you know me,” he jokes, always the aristocrat. “I was just speaking with Mr. Oh about that corporate investment deal that I had been arranging with him.”

“Dad,” you say, exasperated, “You know that I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Y/N,” he says, already beginning to get frustrated. You and him have shared this conversation countless times already. “You aren’t the final decision maker. You know that.”

“Yes, but you value my input, don’t you?” You challenge. He nods tensely. “So listen to me. I don’t think this deal will be good for us. Even though the Oh’s have more money in their investments, they aren’t transparent with it. If you make this deal you won’t know where our money is going.”

“Nonsense,” your father rebukes. “Mr. Oh and I have known each other for years. I trust him. You’re just saying this because you don’t like their son.”

“Sehun has nothing to do with this,” you argue, even if it is true. Your mother had set you up on a blind date with him a couple of years ago and from the moment he walked through the door, you knew it would go south. He’s got the same conceited attitude his father has. “I don’t think it’s a wise business decision.”

“You mustn’t let personal grievances get in the way of your work and you know that,” your father commands sternly, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. “What will you do when you are the CEO of Jeon Group? Are you going to let pettiness get in the way of major advancements for the company?”

“No!” You insist, though you are far too gone for your father to believe you. 

“This deal is happening and that’s final, Y/N,” your father declares harshly, eyes narrowed at you. 

“But, Dad—”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you about this,” he directs. “You should know better than to argue with me about this sort of thing. Especially here. Your mother worked very hard on putting this party on for you, and you should be grateful.”

You exhale, incensed. “I am, Dad, but the business means more to me than—”

“Stop. You can’t change my mind.” Your father sets his finished plate down on a cart an arm’s length away, piled high with discarded dishes, glasses and utensils. “Go talk with your friends instead.” You frown at him, nose scrunched up in contempt. He gestures you away from him. “Go.”

Sighing, you wipe away the sweat that has gathered along your temples and go back out into the center of the ballroom, watching begrudgingly as your father steers you from him, having deemed your conversation over even if you weren’t finished talking. It’s obvious that there’s no more getting through to him. Unless all of the Ohs are suddenly arrested for embezzling funds or mail fraud, that deal is happening.

Standing in the middle of the room, you turn around once and you’re immediately lost amongst all of the guests, surrounded by people everywhere you look. You turn back to where your father was standing but he’s vanished, and when you turn the other way, Jungkook has disappeared from beside the grand piano as well. It feels like you’re outnumbered, like you’re trapped in a maze of people with no end in sight, like one wrong move and suddenly they will all turn to look at you, stare you down like camera lenses, relentless flashes of light. Nobody to talk to, nowhere to run. 

You’re stuck. 

Now that you think about it, you sort of always have been. 

The room gets blurrier.

“Hey, are you alright?” A voice asks. 

You feel like you spin around several times before your eyes focus in on the man it belongs to. 

“Here, come on, let’s get out of here.”

Your feet move against your mind’s better judgement, the man ushering you away from the center of the room and out of the crowd. You barely notice the direction he’s taking you in until you feel the cool late night air blow past you, tickling your skin and sending shivers down your spine. 

It’s the balcony.

The glass door shuts behind the two of you, sending a stream of wind against your back as it effectively removes all of the background noise of the party, containing it within the ballroom, leaving the both of you shrouded in the stars’ silence. 

Out here, you have a perfect view of the city. Even though it’s nearing midnight, the lights are still on, coating the town in a twinkling glow, yellow lights flickering on and off, as if someone were looking at the universe from far beyond it. Some parts of the city go to sleep when the sun sets. Others are just waking up. 

Next to you, the man removes his suit jacket and drops it ceremoniously on the floor at his feet, arms resting on the balcony’s railing as he gazes out into the distance. As you look out into the same deep navy sky, it’s almost as if the rest of the night has faded away. You don’t know who he is and you can only hope that he doesn’t know you either, hope that he has rescued you from the crowd to talk you down rather than talk you up. But you don’t miss the way he hasn’t said a word to you since you stepped foot outside, hasn’t dared to initiate contact just in case you were looking for a respite from all of it. 

At this angle, you can turn your head just enough to get a good look at him, at the way half of his face is enveloped in shadow while the other half is letting the moonlight do all of the talking. From here, the light from the full moon is faint, a barely-there silver glow, but it casts him in just enough light to make him seem as though he belongs in a dream. Like he isn’t even real. It highlights the sharpness of his jaw, the peaks of his cheekbones, his round button nose. But what it really makes gleam are his eyes, almost pitch black in the night. They reflect the sky like nothing else, glimmers of faint starlight in an ocean of ink.

Quite frankly, you wouldn’t mind staying like this for the rest of the night. 

“Thank you.” You breathe out the words and immediately feel his gaze jerk sharply towards you. “For getting me out of there.”

“Of course,” he says, and oh, goodness, his voice is thick and warm and comforting, like a fireplace on a cool night, like a blanket after a nightmare. “You just seemed like you needed a break.”

“You could say that,” you say, shrugging to yourself. You could use more than a break. A general pause on life is something you certainly wouldn’t object to—if only it was that easy. But hey, you take what is given to you and never miss an opportunity if you can help it. There’s a lot that you can (and do) complain about but even more than you should be grateful for. Your father was right. This party took a lot of planning on your mother’s part and you spent half of it in the bathroom wishing you were anywhere but here.

“A lot on your plate?” He asks with a smile, a real one, one that isn’t forced like everybody else. Almost like he’s smiling because he’s actually enjoying himself. 

“I feel like it’s endless,” you say, keeping it vague because, as it stands, this gorgeous man does not know who you are, and you would like to keep it that way.

“As is all of life,” he says sagely, almost as if it’s a reminder to himself as well. You wonder what he must have on his mind. You wonder if it’s worth sharing your life with a stranger. “It looked like you had a lot on your mind back in there.” He gestures weakly back towards the door. 

“I have a lot on my mind no matter where I am,” you correct, and you try to make it sound funny but instead it just comes out sounding sad. Normally you wouldn’t be cracking jokes at your expense in front of someone whose name you don’t even know, but you had a couple of drinks tonight and the taste is still fresh on your tongue, sitting alongside all of the words you want to say but don’t know how to. 

The man leaves it at that, not wanting to push any further, but you aren’t finished yet. Someone might as well know how you feel, since you bottle it up around everyone else. 

“Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?” You turn to look at him, heaving out a sigh. He doesn’t say anything, simply gazes back at you, like he’s willing you to carry on. It, in a way, worries you. “Ugh. I feel ridiculous saying it out loud.”

There’s a tense, pregnant pause between the two of you. It makes you feel like talking was a mistake. 

“It’s not ridiculous.” It almost sounds like the words are coming from someone else. Like this whole thing is just a figment of your imagination, created by your mind to keep you company because there’s no one else to turn to. 

He’s staring out over the balcony now, waiting for you to continue. 

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling utterly idiotic, like a fish out of water. “Sometimes I just wish that I could go somewhere else and be someone else and not have to worry about all of the things in my life. Things like my family, and my work. There are so many things that people expect of me. All the time. It feels like I’m living for them instead of myself.”

He nods along, holding back to see if you have anything else to say. You must sound like such an ungrateful little rich girl, you think to yourself. Complaining about this fabulous party and incredible life that you live, a life filled with wealth and grandeur and power, a life that most people dream of having. What will he think of you?

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I probably sound like such a spoiled brat.”

“You don’t,” he immediately assures you, taking a step to his right and closing the gap between you two. “It doesn’t sound like that at all.”

“Then what does it sound like?” You muse to yourself, forcing a laugh. 

“It sounds like you have a lot that you feel like you owe to other people,” he says organically. “You know, like you feel like you have to do all of these things because you can’t let other people down. I get it. I know that everyone nowadays is all, ‘You shouldn’t give a shit about what other people think of you, just do whatever you want,’ but it’s hard not to think about what other people think of you. And what other people expect from you. Letting them down sucks.”

You chuckle. Sounds about right. You may not be completely satisfied with your life right now but that doesn’t mean you’re going to fling your responsibilities onto the shoulders’ of other people. Your father works hard, your mother works hard, your brother works hard. The least you could do for them is offer up the same diligence.

“You’re quite the smooth talker,” you joke, looking him up and down and nodding your approval. He’s definitely figured you out, at least. 

“I’m just a people person,” the man admits. “I like talking with people.”

“And here I was, thinking that I’d be confessing my secrets to a brick wall,” you say, making him crack a smile, another real one. You like the look of them. A part of you wants to do it more often. 

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

You’ve been listening to compliments all night but this one makes the heat rush to your cheeks like nothing else, a fire set alight in your veins. 

“That’s a secret, is it?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy, looking all around you just so you don’t have to look him in his eyes and feel your legs turn to jelly. 

“Not anymore,” he reminds you. “What about you? Anything else to share with me?” He’s standing dangerously close to you now, barely half a foot of space between your bodies as he leans into you, hands hovering above your waist. 

Slowly he begins to tilt his head towards you, and while you’ve never been one for dramatics, you have to admit that you haven’t felt this way since your schoolgirl crush days back when you were a teenager, giddy and electric and desperately craving more. 

You watch as his lips flutter above yours, feel transparent underneath his steel gaze, and you say, “I think you’re gorgeous, too.”

The fireworks thing had always been over the top for you. Like it was impossible for a kiss to feel that explosive to anyone, setting you alight over and over and over again. But his lips pressed against yours come pretty damn close. It makes your whole body go weak, like you can barely hold yourself up, hands clutching onto his sleeves just to make sure you don’t go topping off the balcony. He kisses you and you swear that you would never do this sort of thing normally—go about your romantic interests like a professional, a couple of dates and then perhaps a kiss on your doorstep—but goddamn, it feels like you might just give up everything for him. It feels like there are sparks running all across your skin, sending jolts of life into your heart. It feels like he is someone you are going to miss.

It lasts too long and ends too quickly all at once. You distantly hear the party celebrate the clock striking twelve indoors, cheers and screams and shouts as people rally themselves to continue long after the mark of a new day, and feel him pull away from you at the very same instant. Shamelessly, you instinctively reach up to try and meet his lips again, refusing to believe it’s over, but already he’s separating himself from you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong—?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing, I promise,” the man says, the words barely registering in your kiss-drunk haze. He scoops up his jacket from the floor and immediately begins to head back inside. “I just have to go, really. It’s nothing.”

You freeze, mouth agape. “Wait, I don’t even know your—”

“It was really nice meeting you, I hope that we can see each other again!” He pulls open the door with one final grin, one beautiful, brilliant smile, and then suddenly, he’s gone. 

You feel the rush of wind blow against your skin, holding you hostage on the balcony as you stare at the closed door, almost like he had never been here at all. 

It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. He was real, and he was here, and then he was right in front of you, his hands were on your waist, his lips were on your lips. And still, it’s almost as if it never even happened. 

You blink back at the door, trying to convince yourself that you are still awake, that you haven’t gone mad with loneliness, when you feel yourself step on something. 

It’s his mask. A plain, black one with a couple of decorative touches. The string meant to secure it to his face is broken, having probably snapped in half in his rush to leave, leaving it as the only reminder that you didn’t dream up the entire ordeal to begin with. 

You reach down to pick it up, letting it rest between your fingertips, and you laugh. Here you are, having fallen for a man whose name you don’t know and whom you don’t think you’ll ever see again, the only piece left you have of him being a broken, forgotten masquerade mask. Like the worst rendition of Cinderella ever. 

Leaning back over the balcony, you sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that even if tonight was more eventful than you thought it would be, you will have to get up tomorrow morning and go to work, just the same. 

And you suppose that that really is what the man was talking about when he said life was endless. 

It’s not that it has no end. It’s just that it doesn’t really feel like you’re ever beginning something new. 

You wake up in a cold sweat and are convinced you dreamt of the whole thing until you see the mask sitting on your chest of drawers, grounding you back to reality. 

You wonder what it is about him, about last night, that so easily deceives you into thinking it never happened. Perhaps it was the time, or the alcohol on your tongue, or how storybook the whole thing felt, from the talking to the kissing to the disappearing into the night. Or perhaps it was the fact that you can’t remember the last time someone made you feel the way that he made you feel, can’t remember the last time someone kissed you like he did. Like your brain was convinced it would just never happen. 

At least you know that there’s still a little hope for you.

A part of you almost thinks that, for the rest of time, you won’t be able to think of anything but the mystery man and his excellent kissing skills. Even the morning after, the tingling feeling on your lips still lingers like lint on a blazer, like a scar that won’t fade. It feels like it won’t ever go away, dancing along your lips every time you look in a mirror. You hardly remember anything else about that night besides him, besides talking to him, besides his lips on yours. 

You continue to live in this post-kiss bliss for another ten minutes as you help yourself to breakfast and hum a mindless tune. Then your phone lights up. 

“Hey, Dad!” You say cheerfully, practically bouncing on your feet. 

“Y/N,” he says gruffly. “You haven’t left for work yet, have you?”

“Nope,” you say, stuffing a spoonful of Honey Nut Cheerios into your mouth. “Why? Do you need me to bring something?”

“Actually, Y/N, you won’t be coming to the office today.” His tone is stern and sharp, no-nonsense. The same way he speaks to interns who have fucked up. 

Oh, no. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to keep your tone positive even though you already know you’re toast. 

“I’m assigning you to watch over the new resort hotel at the edge of the city.” Your father has never been known to beat around the bush. 

“What?” You gasp out, shocked. “Dad, you know that I—”

“You wanted more independence and more input in decision-making, didn’t you?” He says pointedly, a reminder of last night.

“Yes, but I—”

“Good,” he declares. “This resort is going to be your responsibility and I want to see that you are doing well with the tasks at hand.”

“Dad, that sounds good, but you know I much prefer more corporate responsibilities—”

“And at this resort, you will have that,” he informs you. “It’s high time you take on your own tasks instead of doing the ones that I hand down to you. I expect to see this resort flourish.” You don’t understand his logic. Isn’t he literally handing you an entire resort to oversee? A brand new one, too?

“But wouldn’t you rather manage such a new hotel? What if it starts to encounter deficits?” You plead, a final attempt to get him to take your name off of this project so you can go back to doing what you’re used to instead of being flung a brand new resort you definitely aren’t keen on overseeing. 

“Then I should hope to see you solve them quickly,” he clips, effectively dissolving any hope you had that he would change his mind. Normally, you love your father’s typical hands-off approach when it comes to business, usually because it allows you to gain working experience without him carrying you every step of the way, but right now, you just wish he was more of a selfish businessman. For once, it would actually work out quite well for you. 

“Dad—”

“I’ll be checking in.”

He hangs up. 

Standing in the middle of your kitchen, you huff, nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrow as you try to think your way out of this. Getting through to your father is impossible, getting through to your mother, even more so. She’s always preferred to stick to philanthropy, anyway, having zero interest in what you and your father do. You scowl to yourself, already beginning to run out of options. Is your list really that short? Who else in your family could help?

Suddenly, you smack your head, shocked at how forgetful you’ve been. You grab your phone from where it sits on the counter and dial his number. 

“Y/N?” Jungkook asks from the other end, voice still groggy. At least he gets to sleep in. 

“Hey, Jungkook,” you say, sighing out your hello to sound more casual. 

“What’s up?” He asks in between yawns. 

“Listen, Dad just assigned me to oversee that new resort hotel on the beach just outside of town,” you say economically. You’ve always gotten straight to the point with your brother. It’s the only reason the two of you aren’t constantly at each other’s necks anymore. 

“Really? That’s awesome!” Jungkook says excitedly, voice jumping up half an octave. 

“I mean…” You begin, because it’s really… not.

“This probably means that Dad’s going to retire soon, don’t you think? Since he’s giving you such a big responsibility, right?” Jungkook asks, a suggestion that nearly sends you into a coughing fit at the mere thought of it. Retirement?

“You think so?” You ask, a little terrified. 

“I don’t know,” Jungkook says, and you can hear his nonchalant shrug through the phone. “Maybe. He has been talking a lot recently about what’s going to happen when you take over the company.”

“Don’t you want that same responsibility, though?” Jungkook has never been treated as a business equal the same way you have, despite having the same expensive education as you and being much better with people. You’ve always wondered if that’s bothered him. 

“Not really,” Jungkook tells you, and you can hear the familiar log-in sound of his computer in the background. “I mean, I’ve always known you were going to inherit the company. This sort of thing just makes sense to me.”

You frown to yourself. “You don’t want to be involved with the business at all?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Jungkook says with a sigh, voice still groggy. “I’m happy that I’m getting the work experience and everything. But it’s just never something I’ve seen as part of my future.”

Mostly because it’s always been yours. 

The fact of the matter is that Jungkook, even if he is younger, and a little more rambunctious, and a little bit more impulsive, has always been the better candidate to take over the family business. He excels at task-driven jobs and has charmed the pants off of everyone he’s ever met, from Yoongi to your florist to the nice woman at the customer service counter at your local grocery store. He’s a quick decision-maker and never second-guesses himself. He also has zero problems with his love life and potential partners, something that your parents are desperate for you to figure out. He’s perfect for the position. 

So why are you the heir?

“What, are you just going to livestream video games for a living, then?” You ask snarkily, already knowing that he’s sat at his desk, ready for another match. 

“Probably. I could probably double the family’s fortune, you know,” he says, and he’s right. What he does is equally as profitable as what you do, and he gets bonus points because it’s something that he genuinely enjoys. 

“You better get started then, gamer boy,” you say, hearing his bubbly laugh echo through the phone before you hang up. 

Jungkook would take over the resort hotel management if you asked, and you know it. He’s got the experience and the expertise to do it flawlessly, no questions asked. But he won’t, because you won’t ask that of him. Because even if you don’t want to do it, it is better you than him. Someone in this family deserves to do what they love for a living. And nobody deserves that more than him. 

The Honey Nut Cheerios slosh around in the milk in the bowl in front of you. You aren’t very hungry anymore. 

Your father has always had an eye for design, a trait he never seemed to pass on to you. It’s no wonder why he’s the one the architectures and interior decorators run everything by while you manage the finances. It’s something your mother always says she loves about him. So, even if you are assigned to oversee a resort hotel that you have zero interest in whatsoever, at least it looks nice. 

“Whoa, this place is fancy,” Hoseok says, gasping as the two of you step out of the car beneath the golden awning that covers the hotel entrance. There are little lights lining the structure, something to bathe the canopy in a sparkling glow when the sun says goodbye for the day, light it up like stars in the night sky. 

“You’ve been to my house, this is nothing,” you say with a shrug, making him laugh as the doors open for you, carpet plush and hardly touched. From what you read in the file your father sent you, this place hasn’t been open for more than two weeks. 

It looks like it’s barely been occupied. 

The security guard, a gruff, stout man, nods a hello to you as you enter. 

“Uh, your house doesn’t have security guards,” Hoseok whispers into your ear as you pass him, pointing rather conspicuously to the man behind you. “Your dad really went all out on this one.”

You huff, gritting your teeth. Good thing it’s not an eyesore, otherwise you don’t think you’d last a week here. “Well, he’s always loved the beach.” 

“Why does that not surprise me,” Hoseok lilts, whistling as he gazes away from you, guilty. 

You smack him with the back of your hand in the middle of his torso. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, backing off even though he knows he’s the only person (well, besides Jungkook) who can get away with saying that sort of thing in front of you. “You two have always been polar opposites, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, well, say it in your head,” you sulk, hitting him again so that he straightens up. You both have a duty to make a good first impression, though Hoseok’s red suit is doing half of the work for him. 

As you enter, all of the staff behind the desk scramble to get to their positions, hands together neatly in front of them as you peer over your wire-rimmed glasses to get a good look at the place. It’s clean, elegant, with touches of luxury here and there, a golden coffee table, an accent along the lining of the walls. It smells faintly of lemon and mostly of the ocean, a scent you are going to have to get used to. Everything seems to be in order. 

You stroll up the front desk, eyeing everything closely. Behind it, the three employees currently on front-desk duty wait patiently for you to speak. Their names are written in capital letters on gold-plated tags, pinned to the pockets of their blazers. You nod as you memorize their names. Irene, Seohyun, and Seokjin. 

Seokjin looks positively wide-eyed, flabbergasted to be seeing you, to be standing in front of you. There’s this faint sort of recognition on his face, like he’s just realized something life-altering, and he’s doing a rather poor job of hiding it. Perhaps he’s just starstruck.

“Well, we might as well get the introductions over with,” you declare, clapping your hands together. The sound makes the three of them jump. “If you didn’t know, I’m Y/N, and I’ll be overseeing this hotel for the foreseeable future. So let’s get along well together. For all of our sakes.”

They nod, polite smiles on their faces. 

“Which one of you is the hotelier?” You ask, looking between the three of them. Your father had written it down in that file somewhere but quite frankly, you were so exasperated that you had been assigned the hotel that you hadn’t really looked it over properly. 

“That would be me,” the man, Seokjin, says with a tense, small little grin, nodding his head when you turn to face him. He looks strikingly familiar, this sort of picturesque nostalgia that you can’t quite place, angles sharp in the bright light of the hotel. You wonder where you’ve seen it before. Possibly in some magazine or at an event. He certainly is worthy of being photographed. 

“Excellent,” you declare happily. “Then you’re on my staff, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I just received word about that last night,” he affirms. 

“Wonderful,” you say, fingers tapping against the granite countertops. “I can tell that this will all go smoothly, so long as we all make sure to stay on task. Sounds good?”

“Of course, Miss Jeon,” Seokjin says. 

“Please, call me Y/N. I do hate formalities,” you request. “So, shall we get started? I trust that you all know exactly what you’re doing. But I would like to receive a few updates here and there about the goings-on here. Mostly, I would like all total daily income numbers to be faxed to my office, transcripts of all of the customer service requests, and an updated menu. The pizza is far too cheap and the lobster just as expensive. How’s that for a starting list?”

“Would you like those numbers in an Excel sheet or graphed?” Irene asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Both,” you answer. She and Seohyun get right to work, leaving you feeling confident that this won’t be a complete train wreck. “Seokjin, you are with me.” You gesture for him to come out from behind the desk, and begin to walk around the lobby of the hotel, hoping to put some distance between you two and the other employees. He stays a solid two feet behind you the entire time, taking quick, short steps so he doesn’t dare start to catch up. 

“How can I help, Miss Jeon?” He asks, eyes wide.

You smile, shaking your head. “I told you that Y/N is fine. In any case, since you are the hotelier, I will need a little more from you.” He nods. “First, I need a summary of all expenses and income since you opened, preferably in Excel and formatted cleanly. I’ll also need a list of all of the employees, their respective positions, and their salaries. It would be great if we could begin to eliminate the part-time slots and allow the employees to become full-time so that they receive the same benefits as you and I. I’ll also need information on their schedules.” 

You notice he isn’t writing any of this down, simply bobbing his head as you lift off everything you want and a few things that you’re throwing in just so you don’t have to do them. 

“I assume that you don’t have constant contact with my father, but I don’t mind being the messenger in regards to hotel infrastructure and design. Any and all malfunctions should also be reported to me. It would also be great if we could maybe lose the curtains in the lobby. I think they close up the room. But, your choice.” You narrow your eyes, looking around to see if there’s anything else that needs urgent attention, when you see Hoseok already beginning to hunt through the concessions room, picking up bags of different themed Jelly Belly. “I think that should be enough for now. Update me whenever possible, please.”

“You got it,” Seokjin says, heading back to the desk as quickly as he had walked away from it, concentration washing over his features. It does, at least, bring you comfort that nobody seems particularly incompetent. 

Behind you, you can hear Hoseok muttering a few things at the front desk, most likely having to do with you and your attitude. But you don’t think it’s that big of a deal. You’ve always been work-oriented. It’s always been your biggest focus. Lingering in the lobby, you gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the entrance, the slick, newly-paved asphalt, the tropical flowers that surround it. You have always preferred a city to a beach, but at least the time might pass quicker here with people who know how to do their jobs.

Perhaps this might not be so bad after all. 

Then, your phone vibrates in your pants pocket. 

“Mom,” you greet, surprised that she’s calling you during work. “Hey, how are you?”

“Wonderful!” She shrieks, always the energizer. “Your father told me all about how he assigned you to oversee that new resort. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” you respond, lifeless. 

“You know, you have a lot of responsibility now,” she reminds you, as if you had already forgotten how much work goes into supervising something like this. “Directing a hotel and its staff is a big deal. I don’t want you to think that you can just slack off.”

“Mom, I’m not going to slack off,” you explain. “You know I care about this stuff, just like Dad.”

“I know, I know, I’m just making sure. We want to make sure the company is in good hands when your father retires. He doesn’t have too many years left, you know.”

“Well, whenever he’s ready, I’ll be too,” you assure her, a promise you have vowed to uphold, no matter what becomes of you or your social life. 

“Good.” The conversation ends there. Or, more takes a quick pause, which can only mean one thing. Your mother has something else she needs to tell you. “Speaking of seeing you off…”

“Yes—?”

“Your father and I both think it’s high time you start to settle down with someone. You know we don’t want to see you end up all alone,” she begins, the same argument that you’ve had with your parents time and time again. 

“Mom, you know that I’m not really interested in going out and finding people right now.” Or ever. 

“Yes,” she begins, sucking in her breath between her teeth. Oh, goodness, what’s she going to say now? “But luckily, you don’t have to. You’re so busy, we can’t expect you to just drop everything. So we did.”

“You what?”

“Your father and I have set you up on some dates—just a couple!—with some of his associates’ sons,” she explains, but you are already livid. “We just think that you should be taking more time to see—”

“See what?” You demand. “See his friends’ bratty sons tell me how much money they make? See their cars and their clothes and their stupid Italian leather shoes? See them tell me how I work too hard and that I should just stay at home while they go out and change the world? No thank you.” You can’t name a thing in this world less appealing. Except perhaps supervising a resort hotel against your will. But even that’s better, because the men here actually know what they’re doing.

“Honey, you just aren’t giving them the opportunity—”

“Mom, they don’t deserve an opportunity. I don’t need to be dating people right now. At all!” You exclaim. “Like you said, I’m busy. If Dad is going to retire soon then I need to be ready for it. I have other priorities.”

“Your happiness is our priority,” your mother insists, convinced she’s doing you a good deed by setting you up on blind dates with rich men who care more about their watches and Italian leather shoes than they would a woman. 

“Working makes me happy,” you say between gritted teeth. “I’m perfectly happy as I am.”

“Will you please just give them a try, honey? You never know,” she pleads, desperate to get you to agree with something.

“Fine,” you say, caving in just to get her to stop talking about it. “But don’t expect anything out of it.”

“Yay! That’s all I wanted to hear.” You can hear her relief through the phone. 

“Anything else?” You ask, rubbing at your temples, wishing desperately for this day to be over so you can just go home and take a nice, hot bath, and dream about the mystery man in his black masquerade mask. You’re not interested in dating, sure, but for him, you think you'd make an exception. If only you knew who he was. 

“That’s it. Love you, honey, congratulations on the new resort!” She hangs up in that same voice that she started with, bubbly and animated, and the moment you hear the line go dead, you throw your dignity to the dogs and groan to yourself. 

“God almighty,” you mutter angrily, shaking your head as you rest your head in your hands, fingers massaging at your forehead. Another blind date? How could you possibly have agreed to that? The more you think about the more you wish that this part of your life was the dream instead. Fairytales are overrated but quite frankly, you certainly wouldn’t mind if that man from the party waltzed right into your life and swept you off your feet. He certainly had no trouble doing it last night. You wonder what he’s up to, now—

“Miss Jeon?”

You jump at the voice, scaring both you and Seokjin as you turn, a little cry escaping your lips instinctively. “Oh my God, you frightened me. And please, Y/N is fine. Better, actually.”

Seokjin looks like a deer in headlights, terrified to even talk to you, let alone address you by your first name. You appreciate the professionalism but have never been too fond of the whole ‘Miss’ thing. As if you or your parents need any more reminding that you’re single. Your first name feels much more natural. He flounders twice, opening his mouth to say something before shutting it again, as though whatever he says will suddenly enrage you. 

“Do you… need anything, Seokjin?” You ask, prompting him since he doesn’t seem to be taking matters into his own hands. 

The sound of his name from your lips snaps him out of his daze. “Oh! Yes, I do, actually. I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to include personal expenses on the part of the hotelier in the Excel sheet.”

“Personal expenses? Did you receive a credit from my father?” You ask, an eyebrow raised in surprise. 

“Yes, it was mailed to me just last week. I’ve only used it for a couple of items, though—”

“Like what?” You ask, head tilted. 

He blushes red, cheeks rosy like cherries in summer. “The curtains in the lobby.”

You bark out a laugh, amused at how unexpected this whole thing is. The one thing Seokjin spends money on, you instruct him to take down. At the sound of your chortle, Seokjin backs away, like a cat scared of thunder claps. “Of course,” you say, looking up at the sky and exhaling. Fate. “Please include those.” He nods, already making to scurry back to the front desk, but another sentence from your mouth stops him in his tracks. “Oh, and if you think that the curtains look nice, then leave them. I was never good at interior design anyway.”

You crack a smile, hoping that Seokjin will at least recognize that you’re attempting to be funny and grin, validating you and your lacking sense of humor. He doesn’t, but he does nod once more, and you at least feel like the ice between you is beginning to crack. 

Seokjin rushes back towards the front desk, taking on the enormous list of tasks you’ve assigned him without so much blinking an eye. You watch as his eyebrows furrow in concentration, knitting themselves together above the scrunch of his nose, as his eyes zero in on his computer screen. It’s obvious that he knows exactly what he’s doing and has no issues regarding his work whatsoever. Good thing he’s the hotelier. 

From here, you can use supervision as a cover for the way that you are blatantly ogling him, his figure and his face, finding yourself rather impressed at the sight in front of you. Here, in this lavish, modern hotel, he looks like a prince rather than a manager, clean button-down shirt and fitted slacks, tailored to fit his short torso and long legs. His hair hangs in front of his face in strands, the same sort of hairstyle that the attractive male love interests get, messy and tousled but still fresh. It looks good on him. He certainly wears it well. 

You don’t think being here will be too bad, so long as you have him. 

“Hey.” You feel Hoseok wrap his arm around you, joining you as you stand by the windows. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you promise. “I am.”

Hoseok motions back towards them, where they work diligently behind the front desk as they wait for the next guests to arrive. Seokjin, thinking you aren’t looking, steps back from his computer for just a moment to take some breaths, catch some air. He stretches, arms above his head as his shirt is pulled out from where it’s tucked into his pants. Even from here, you can see the toned lines of his torso, his healthy, slim figure. 

Something about him is so familiar. Maybe you met him in a past life. 

“I think you’ll be fine, Y/N,” he promises, bright white smile gazing back at you, happy as always. “You don’t have anything to worry about. They all look like they know what they’re doing. Especially that Seokjin guy.”

Being here wasn’t your first choice. It wasn’t even your second. But you have people that you can’t let down, and responsibilities to uphold. Besides, you don’t think it’ll be that bad. At least, not with someone like Seokjin around. Perhaps there is always a silver lining. 

“Yeah,” you repeat again, exhaling. Hoseok turns to look at you, fondness lacing his features, and you smile to yourself. “I know.”

Very seldom are you shouted at by people that your family has employed. The fear of being fired due to disagreeing with your boss is enough to keep many people quiet. Submissive, even. 

But not Hoseok. 

“What is with these eye bags, Y/N?” He exclaims at you, exasperated as he picks up the color-correcting pot from his kit and turns around to face you. “I thought we agreed on eight hours of sleep per night. Getting less than that is a death sentence!”

“I’m fine, Hoseok,” you insist, even though the bags underneath your eyes are deeper than the Grand Canyon. You, admittedly, have not been sleeping as much as Hoseok has insisted upon. 

“No, you’re not, look at you! Earlier today you shoved your toothbrush into your ear when I called you while you were about to start brushing your teeth,” Hoseok reminds you, an embarrassing moment in your life that you would prefer to keep just between the two of you. Sometimes you just mix up what’s in your hands. It happens. 

You frown. “I thought we agreed not to mention that.”

“Your skin is looking dry, too,” Hoseok says, dabbing on the product underneath your eyes. “These are all signs that your body isn’t doing well.”

“Okay, Dr. Jung,” you say with a roll of your eyes, making Hoseok scowl playfully at you. “But I’m fine. I’m just working a little bit harder right now. That’s all.”

“That’s what you always say,” Hoseok points out, unimpressed with your measly excuse. “Every time I talk to you about how you aren’t taking care of yourself, you always go, ‘It’s because of work, I’m fine,’ or ‘Don’t worry about me, I just have a lot to do right now.’ It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t sound like that!” You object, offended at his mocking high-pitched impression of you. You don’t sound like Hoseok on helium. You refuse to accept that. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok says, shrugging you off as he pulls out the concealer. “I’m serious, Y/N. You work yourself way too hard. This event is supposed to be a fun business gala and you’re probably going to spend the whole time checking your email.”

“I will not!” You will.

Hoseok frowns, seeing right through you. One of the many benefits of being your personal assistant is the fact that he can read you like a children’s book. He also knows that he can say whatever he wants to you without fear of getting fired—not that he cares about that, either, because he’s probably got enough money in his bank account to put three kids through college. If he ever wanted to have kids, that is. So this is how conversations like these usually go. 

“If I didn’t like your live text updates on the stupid things people wear to these things so much, I would make you leave your phone at home,” Hoseok tells you. “You really do need to take time for yourself.”

“I do take time for myself,” you rebuke with a pout, thinking about how you’ve started waking up five minutes later so you have more time to sleep in. It means that you don’t get to read the morning news like you used to, but sometimes putting off politics until after you’ve had coffee is a good thing. 

“A once-a-month ten-minute bath while you put on a rose face mask doesn’t count,” Hoseok tells you pointedly. “You need to be incorporating this sort of thing into your everyday life. By taking time off. All you ever do is work.”

“It’s not my fault,” you huff, closing your eyes so Hoseok can do some eyeshadow. “I have a whole hotel to oversee after my dad assigned it to me. There’s a lot that I have to manage. Plus, my mom is making me go on these stupid blind dates with their associates’ snobby sons who still think that the pay gap isn’t real.”

Hoseok tuts to himself, shaking his head as he brushes color onto your eyelids. “Your parents have such bad taste in men for you.”

“I know!” 

“This is even further proof that you need to relax more,” Hoseok says economically, brain immediately connecting your predicament to his agenda to get you to take more time off, as always. “Because men stress you out.”

“Just them, but yes,” you correct.

“What do you mean ‘Just them’? Is there someone you’re interested in that doesn’t stress you out?” Hoseok demands, tapping your cheek to get you to open your eyes. You do and the first thing you see is Hoseok’s face, two inches from yours, staring at you as he waits for an answer.

You sigh. You might as well tell him about the mystery man. Clearly, you underestimated his power, because it’s been a week and you’re still thinking about him. “Yes, but—”

“‘Yes’?” Hoseok asks, shocked. “What the fuck, when did you meet him? What does he look like? What’s his name? Job? Is he rich?”

“At my birthday party,” you say. You can picture the scene perfectly in your mind. The balcony, the stars, the mask. The feeling of his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. They’ve been etched into your brain. “We talked on the balcony for a little while and then we kissed.”

“You what?”

“Don’t overreact, it’s not that big of a deal,” you order. The mere recollection of it is already making your body restless and your cheeks burn.

“What do you mean? It’s a huge deal!”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you interrupt, sighing to yourself, “because he ran off at midnight Cinderella-style and I don’t know his name, or his job, or even what he really looks like because he was wearing a mask the whole time.”

Hoseok stops dead in his tracks, the loose power leaving a puff of smoke in between the two of you as his words sink in. Yeah. That’s how you feel too. You finally develop an interest in somebody after years of going it solo and you don’t know a damn thing about him. Other than the fact that he is a fantastic kisser. Which is not an appropriate identifier. You suppose that you could use the mask, but you don’t even know half of the people your mother invited. How are you supposed to narrow down who was wearing a black mask and who wasn’t?

The fact is that unless a miracle happens, you don’t have any way of figuring out who that man is. Yet another thing that you have to dwell on while you worry about everything else going on in your life. 

Hoseok sits on his words for a few more moments, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Eventually, he settles on, “Damn. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you do anything to find him?”

You shake your head, resigning yourself to a life where the mystery man will forever remain a mystery. “No. I don’t even know who was on the guest list.”

“What if you ask Jungkook?” Hoseok poses. “Maybe he knows him.”

“Jungkook does not need to know about my barely-there love life,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. You and your brother typically keep your conversations far away from that realm of topics, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Jungkook is rather flush with admirers. Many of whom have gotten to know him a little bit… closer. “It’s no big deal, ‘Seok. I’m not really desperate to find love. I just need to focus on work, right now.”

“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard, Y/N,” Hoseok says with a melancholic smile, knowing that no matter what he tells you, you’ll always be too determined for your own good. At least he tries. 

You purse your lips in understanding. Hoseok just wants what’s best for you, but what’s best for you right now is being ready for your father’s impending retirement. “There’s just too much that I have to do.”

“At least you’ll have help with the resort,” Hoseok offers, always looking on the bright side. “That Seokjin fellow seems like he really knows what he’s doing.”

You think back to your visits to the resort. Your longest stay was the first day you arrived, but you’ve been making frequent trips back to check in. And every time you arrive, Seokjin is waiting dutifully for your next orders, always getting your completed requests back to you on time, formatted perfectly. He listens to your every word and asks the right questions. He knows exactly what to do and he has no problems admitting when he doesn’t. He’s even started bringing you the occasional coffee.

He’s also terribly handsome, but you try to think about other things when you look at him. 

Hoseok’s right. At least you have Seokjin. His impeccable work ethic is half the reason you aren’t wearing yourself thin worrying about the resort. He was definitely meant to be a hotelier. 

“I guess you’re right.” You nod, letting Hoseok brush a deep maroon lipstick onto you as he finishes up with your makeup. “It could be worse.”

Hoseok mumbles in agreement, stepping back. “Let me look at you.”

You stand up, gown, heels, makeup, and all, letting Hoseok gaze at you to make sure that everything is flawless. You’ve never liked the events you have to attend, but getting dressed up is always something you rather enjoy. Especially when Hoseok is the one doing it. 

The dress drapes down your figure perfectly, hugging your sides as it gathers on the floor, leaving just enough space for the tips of your heels to peek out. Your necklace hangs low on your torso and your earrings dangle, soft golden strings with gems at the base. Your eyes sparkle with the help of the glitter that Hoseok has added, touches of shimmer on the high points of your face. You look into the mirror and for once, you feel satisfied.

“Wow,” Hoseok says, proud and beaming. “Look at you.”

There you are. 

Days at the resort hotel pass by faster now. 

Granted, no work day could ever top the speed at which the days passed when you were younger, playing outside with friends or running around in the yard during recess. But being here isn’t as terrible as you had first made it out to be. At least you don’t have your father constantly looking over your shoulder, even if he does call you every day to ask for updates. And at least the people here have integrity, more so than any of the usual executives you work with up in the central building in town. The people here aren’t brown-nosing you every minute of every day. 

And yes, getting to see Seokjin every day is also rather enjoyable. From a professional perspective. 

Hoseok says you need to take more time for yourself and relax more but quite frankly, being at the resort hotel is a vacation. It’s a respite from the hustle-and-bustle culture that your father has cultivated in his office building. It’s a break from the neverending business deals, the meetings, the agreements and bargains and contracts. And most importantly, it’s something that you can do without your father’s help. 

For once, it almost feels like a little taste of freedom. 

Of course, Hoseok would also tease you terribly about the fact that you consider overseeing a resort hotel a break, as opposed to an actual holiday where you take real time off. But he must know that that’s never going to happen. At least, not anytime soon. 

You hadn’t realized your father’s retirement was so close. The years pass by in a blur but you have always thought that your father has much too much to finish, tasks and projects, and events that will take another few years to come to fruition. Too many loose ends that he needs to tie up, deals he must close and finances he must track. You’ve been groomed to take over for him since you were young, even before you graduated, but retirement has always felt like a distant future. 

Not an imminent happening. 

Jungkook hadn’t even sounded surprised when you told him that you would be overseeing the new resort. 

You wonder if you’re the only one in your family who hadn’t expected your father to be planning his retirement so soon. The money and savings isn’t an issue—he will continue to invest long after he leaves his office—but the time is. Perhaps he has finished more than you thought he would. Accomplished more goals than you expected he’d do. 

Or perhaps, you just grew up too quickly. 

Time has always gone by much too fast for your liking. When you were little, when you were in school, when you graduated. You closed your eyes and suddenly all of your youth had whizzed by. You woke up and suddenly you were in and out of four years of college and two years of a Master’s in business. You blinked and suddenly you are about to inherit a company you thought you never would. 

The fear of everything ending is enough to keep you away. Away from that skyscraper in the center of the city, where your father’s office sits at the top floor, where he works nonstop to make sure that everything is ready for your arrival. Away from a future you thought you could avoid, until it reached you. 

Having this resort hotel, a brand new building in the beachy part of town, with efficient, competent staff and a gorgeous view, is enough to make you want to live in the past forever. 

Your phone screen lights up with your father’s contact for the third time today, the green ‘answer’ button and the red ‘decline’ button waiting patiently for your decision. Staring down at it, you frown. You normally aren’t one to purposely miss your father’s calls, but today is the day that the deal with the Ohs is finalized, something that you have zero desire to celebrate. 

After a few more moments, your phone stops vibrating in your hand, the screen going back. You roll your eyes and stuff it into the pocket of your pants, not wanting to wait for it to light up once more. You have a feeling that your mother will be phoning shortly to berate you for not answering your father’s calls, a call that you have every intention of ignoring just like the previous ones. You aren’t sure how to make clearer the fact that you think the deal is a bad idea. A terrible one, even. Mostly because the Ohs are horrible people.

Still, you cannot resist pulling your phone out when you feel it buzz against your side.

[Today, 12:27PM]

Jungkook: dude dad’s flipping out because you aren’t answering his calls

Ugh. Not Jungkook, too.

You: Tell him that I will congratulate him on the deal in person later. You: I’m busy right now.

Jungkook: he’s calling just to check in on the resort

You: I give him weekly updates and forward him any pressing news. He’ll manage.

Jungkook: just call him or mom’s gonna call you

You: Tell her that I will congratulate him on the deal in person. You: Later.

Jungkook: are you gonna be like this until dad retires?

You: Like what?

Jungkook: -_- Jungkook: don’t play stupid Jungkook: you’re being stubborn and you know it.

You: Dad already knows that I didn’t approve of him going through with the deal. I don’t imagine he’s expecting a party from me.

Jungkook: you can’t keep ignoring him just because you didn’t approve of one thing Jungkook: how is that professional???? Jungkook: you’re inheriting the business soon Y/N Jungkook: you need to start acting like it

You: Don’t tell me how to act when you aren’t the one busting your ass trying to make sure the business is ready for when he retires. You: You have your own life to lead and your own things to do. It’s not your place.

Jungkook: as a businessman, it isn’t Jungkook: as your brother, it is

You scowl at your screen. The brother card. Jungkook pulls it whenever he and you both know that you’re being unreasonable, and the worst part is that it always works. It always works because Jungkook only ever wants the best for you, wants to see you succeed as a businesswoman, as a future CEO, and as his sister. And who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?

You: I just have a lot on my plate right now. Dad and I can talk later.

Jungkook: yknow Jungkook: like, occupationally, you are more than ready to inherit the company and you know it. Jungkook: you work so hard 24/7 and you never take breaks, you know exactly what you’re doing and you can command a room better than anyone i’ve ever met Jungkook: but Jungkook: oh idk

You: What?

An impromptu psychoanalysis from your wise-beyond-years younger brother is certainly not something you had been expecting today. But Jungkook always has and always will know you better than anyone else, something that is both a blessing and a curse.

Jungkook: you are so fucking ready to inherit the business Jungkook: i just wish you would realize it

Silence. You pause, watching the three dots appear and disappear over and over again, Jungkook typing and deleting what next he wants to say. Chuckling to yourself, you read his message over and over again. 

What’s Jungkook on about? Doesn’t he know what you do? The position you have? Just because you’ll eventually take over the business doesn’t mean you’re ready for it. Isn’t Jungkook aware of how much work you have to do? About how your father assigned you this resort hotel as punishment for disagreeing with him? 

You aren’t ready. 

You’re barely halfway. 

You: Yeah, right.

Jungkook: i’m serious Y/N Jungkook: can’t you see how prepared you are

You: I still have lots to do, Jungkook. Just because I’ve been given more responsibility doesn’t suddenly mean Dad’s going to retire tomorrow and that I’m ready to take over.

Jungkook: that’s not what i meant and you know it

You: I don’t feel like talking about this anymore. Tell Dad that I’ll talk to him about the deal later. 

Jungkook: … Jungkook: fine Jungkook: but don’t say i didn’t try to tell you

You angrily switch your phone off, fuming at the fact that the deal’s gone through, fuming at how Jungkook thinks that suddenly because you were given a resort hotel to oversee it means that you’re ready to take over from your father, and fuming at how, above all, there’s a part of you and a part of Jungkook that both know that he is, as usual, right. 

There’s a knock on the door to your makeshift office at the hotel and you lose it. 

“What?” 

You look up just in time to see Seokjin jump slightly at your shout, coffee sloshing around in the cups in his hand. Ah. You hadn’t meant to scare him like that. 

Exhaling, you rub at your temples as you set your phone down on the desk, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Seokjin. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Please, come in.”

“Coffee?” He offers, a small smile on his face as he holds it out.

“You are a lifesaver,” you declare, taking the cup from him happily and having a sip. Perfectly scalding. Seokjin waits patiently behind your desk until you’re finished, swaying slightly. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “Just thought that I’d let you know that I’ve just got more files on the finances.”

“Oh, excellent,” you declare happily, accepting the small manila folder from underneath Seokjin’s arm. You open it just to browse, and everything seems to be in order. An easy thing to file away for future reference if necessary. And there’s no doubt in your mind that Seokjin’s already faxed you an electronic copy as well. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Seokjin nods. He turns to leave but seems to linger, noticing the tension in your shoulders and the irritation on your face, the way you drink up the boiling coffee like it’s nothing, relishing in the burn down your throat. He almost stops himself, opening his mouth slightly and then closing it, but then he just sighs, and he asks, “Are you alright?”

You sputter out the coffee all over the manila folder in front of you. “I’m sorry,” you say over coughs, the beverage going down the wrong pipe in all of the chaos. “What—what did you say?”

“You just seem more stressed than usual, is all,” Seokjin says, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his ink black slacks. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve been snappy recently,” you say, admitting it. “There’s just a lot I’m dealing with right now. Mostly to do with work.”

“I hope I’m helping, then?” He says hopefully, a hesitant grin on his face. 

You nod in agreement. Without him, you definitely wouldn’t be sleeping half as much as you do now (which is apparently still not enough, according to Hoseok). At least Seokjin’s there. “You definitely are. I don’t think I’d have made it without you,” you chuckle. 

Seokjin smiles. “If you need me to do more, I’d be happy to. Just ask.”

“Thank you, Seokjin. I really appreciate that,” you tell him. In the short time you’ve known him, Seokjin’s kindness has outshone even his stellar work ethic, a trait that you’ve come to admire in him, mostly because you know you can only dream of being as generous as he. “It means a lot.”

“Anytime,” he says, and he means it, too. “I’ll always be here for you.”

And standing here, in your makeshift office, with a matching cup of coffee in his hand, and a gorgeous, toothy smile on his face, you know that he means that, too. 

Sometimes, you can’t even believe a man like Seokjin exists. He’s practically flawless.

“I will bear that in mind,” you promise. “You really are a wonderful person, Seokjin. Really.”

Seokjin grins, the compliment going straight to him, blushing furiously as he exits your office, waving a tiny goodbye on his way out. You return it, watching fondly as he nearly crashes into the door frame, hand slamming onto it before he realizes. He laughs at his clumsiness and even from here you can see his cheeks get redder, heating up like the coffee in his hand. 

Work is hard. Being the unprepared heir to an enormous conglomerate even harder. But Seokjin’s right. 

At least you’ll always have him. 

You’ve never been one to develop friendships with your employees, but there is something about Seokjin that’s different. Something about him that makes him a confidant first and a hotelier second. Something about him that pulls you in, an electric, magnetic touch. 

You feel like you’ve known him longer than you feel. Feel like you’re closer than you really are. 

Some people are just like that, you suppose. Some people just make you wish that you had known them forever.

Quite frankly, you don’t think you could name a single thing wrong about Seokjin even if you tried. He gets your coffee order perfect (not that it’s hard, it’s just that you’ve never told him what it is), he does all of his work before you’ve even asked, and he runs the damn resort hotel better than you do. He’s obviously a people-person and can make others laugh without trying. He’s even figured out how to compliment you, a trait that not even grown businessmen have learned.

The days pass in a blur, made quicker by the ease of working with him. Of being around him. Seokjin lifts up your spirit and he doesn’t even have to try. His competence in the workplace is enough to have you coming by the resort daily instead of weekly, hourly instead of daily, just so you can spend time in a place that, for once, makes you feel relaxed. 

Hoseok would say that Seokjin is a miracle-worker. 

You would say that he’s just brilliant.

Honestly, sometimes you think that even Seokjin is more well-equipped to run your family’s business than you are. And you’re the heiress. 

The differences between Seokjin and all other men you’ve had the displeasure of interacting with (besides Jungkook, because he’s your brother, and Hoseok, because he’s the best) become abundantly clear after your second mother-mandated blind date. 

The first one that you went on a couple of weeks ago was alright. He wasn’t an asshole, but also he had the same amount of flavor as the plain white bread that you were served prior to the meal. But no points is better than negative points, right?

You mentioned to your mother that you probably wouldn’t be interested in a second date with him. She didn’t sound surprised. 

Unfortunately for you, your second blind date was not nearly as uneventful. 

The good part about your date was that it was a brunch arrangement, which is unabashedly your favorite meal of the day and also saves you the trouble of having to get all dressed up for a fancy dinner in the center of the city. But that is where the good parts end. 

You don’t know what your parents were thinking, setting you up with a man like Sangmin. Every single thing that you have ever complained to them about a man, Sangmin either did or was. The first red flag was how he showed up to your brunch meeting wearing a navy blue suit. It didn’t get any better from there. 

You know that your parents just want you to find someone and settle down, someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and get you to stop working so hard, someone who will make you happy and who can keep you comfortable, someone who is something that you genuinely will want to spend time with, but you can’t explain why, with this knowledge of your preferences and dislikes, they still send you on dates with men like Sangmin. 

Men who boast about their money with every chance they get, checking the time just so they can flash their Rolex watch even though their phone is right there, telling you how many fancy cars they own that deserve a woman like you in the passenger seat. Men who try to explain economic practices that your family pioneered to you. Men whose eyes flash with dollar signs when they hear that you’re going to be inheriting your family’s company. 

Your parents want you to find someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and keep you comfortable? They should let you pick. 

At one in the afternoon and not a moment later, you storm into your office, flinging your bag onto your chair as you groan aloud, staring out the window and fighting the urge to punch right through the Plexiglass. There’s no word for the way you’re feeling, the unintelligible growl that you let out. You just aren’t having a very good day. 

Your desire to interact with men is at an all time low, and yet, you can’t help but turn around when you hear his voice. 

“Knock, knock,” Seokjin says from the doorway, two cups of steaming coffee in his hand. He strolls up happily to you, placing the plastic cup in your outstretched hand. “How’d it go?”

“Bad,” you spit, not wanting to say anything else.

“Oh, no, really?” Seokjin asks, genuinely disappointed. At least someone was rooting for you. You don’t even think you had been rooting for yourself. “Worse than the first guy?”

“Say the first guy was just… slightly stale white bread, okay?” You begin to explain, because Seokjin doesn’t need the details and you don’t need to relive the experience. “Then this guy would be… how would you put it—?”

“Really stale white bread?” Seokjin offers.

“A rotten egg mayonnaise sandwich that’s been sitting in a dumpster for two weeks,” you correct. 

Seokjin winces. A perfect reaction, as always. 

“It was just bad. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” You decide once and for all, moving to your desk and slamming the coffee cup onto the wood. It sloshes over the edge and splashes around the side, leaving behind a ring that you know you’ll have to clean up later.

Seokjin goes to stand by the window, looking out into the back gardens of the resort, all tropical red flowers and vibrant green leaves. “You have a third one, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you groan, the mere thought sending shivers down your spine. And not the good kind. The fact that the dates aren’t even over yet is enough to send you into a tailspin. “God, my parents are just desperate, at this point.”

“Why?” He asks, turning to face you, brown eyes wide and curious. “Are they worried about something?”

“Ugh,” you begin, on the verge of slamming your head onto the mahogany. The problem isn’t that your parents are worried you won’t find someone. It’s that your parents think that it’s their job to find someone for you. “I think they’re scared that I’m never going to marry, or that I work myself too hard and need someone to spend time with to calm down. I don’t understand. Even if I were to never marry, that’s not a bad thing. I can do what I want. I’m perfectly capable of running my family’s group without someone else.”

“Do you not want to get married?” Seokjin asks. The reason, you realize, that Seokjin is so refreshing, a respite from the rest of the executives that constantly surround you, is because he doesn’t expect anything of you. He doesn’t assume that you’ll eventually marry and become disparaging when you suggest otherwise. He doesn’t assume that you constantly need guidance on official matters that you alone have been tasked to handle. He doesn’t assume that you aren’t capable. 

(He did assume your preferred coffee order. And he is an excellent judge.) 

“I mean,” you begin, rubbing at your temples in a desperate attempt to relieve your body of the stress that sits upon it, “I suppose that eventually, it would be nice. But I’m in no rush if I haven’t met the right person, you know? Like, I’m not going to force myself to if the time isn’t right. There’s no deadline to get married.”

Seokjin nods in agreement, mouth shut. One of your favorite things about Seokjin is how, whenever you begin to speak, he begins to listen. 

“My parents are just putting all of this pressure on me to get married because they think that I’ll need someone’s help when I take over after my father retires. Or they just think that I’m sad and lonely. Which, maybe they’re right about the second part, but I just hate how they’re putting all of this pressure on me to go on dates and get married and work hard when there isn’t even a timeline for me to take over yet. I don’t even have real confirmation that my father is planning on retiring anytime soon. I just—ugh!” There really is no better way to put it than to just shriek and throw your hands up in the air. You sigh, dragging your hand down the side of your face. “Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen when he hears your words, like they’ve set something off in his brain. Even sitting on your tongue, they feel familiar to you. Where have you heard those before?

He seems to wait for another few moments, contemplating what he’s next going to say, like if he just opens his mouth and lets the words flow out he’ll say something wrong. Little does Seokjin know, in your eyes, nothing he could ever say would be wrong to you. 

“You aren’t sad and lonely,” he begins, a nice, comforting pep talk even though you sort of are both sad and lonely. You work nonstop and have three friends, two of which are employed by your family, the other one being your brother. “And you don’t need to rush into getting married if you don’t feel like it, no matter what your parents say. I mean, at least I think you don’t. You’re obviously much more focused on your career and how you want to succeed in the future, and that’s good. It’s something that means a lot to you.”

He takes a few steps towards you, setting his coffee cup on your desk. You look up to him from where you’re sitting in your office chair, letting his words carve themselves deep into your heart, rest within your soul. 

Sometimes, you don’t realize you’ve gotten yourself down until someone is trying to pick you back up. 

“You do have control over your life,” he tells you, and for once in your life you actually feel yourself believing it. “What you are doing, what you have been doing, is right. Things will come with time. You’ll learn and grow more as you keep living. And even if you aren’t looking for them right now—” he says, eyes wide and knowing and promising, looking at you so desperately because God, he just wants you to listen to him. To let his words mean something. “—there is someone out there who will love you.”

The sound of his voice dissipates into the air, sinking into the floor, dust after a storm. 

“You really think so?” You ask, hopeful. You never believed in soulmates but you have always believed in love. Believed that when the feeling was right, you would know. 

(That kiss still lingers in your mind, like morning dew after a rainy night. Like frost settling over the grass. Is it possible that you can feel like that again?)

Seokjin nods, firm and true. He does think that. He does. “I do,” he says. “I really do.”

The third date is forgettable. 

Or perhaps Seokjin has just enchanted you. So much so that your brain doesn’t even choose to remember interactions with other men. They just aren’t as memorable. 

You finish up this round of parent-mandated rich boy blind dates and get back to work, knowing that you might as well make the most of your now-unoccupied time before your mother decides once again that it’s time for you to go on dates again with men you have no interest in. Work, unlike so many other things in your life, will always be a constant. For better or for worse. 

Today, it’s barely even dawn before you arrive at the hotel. In recent days, the resort has become your hub for all of your work, even the work that doesn’t have anything to do with it. There’s just something calming about being here. Something that makes you feel more productive. That makes you want to work more. 

You slide into your office with ease, coffee in one hand and messenger bag in the other, surprisingly awake considering the sun is hardly over the horizon, soft orange rays peeking out from between the trees and skyscrapers. You don’t imagine there’s a lot of tasks of immediate priority waiting for you on your desk, but there’s always other work to be done. Administrative orders, emails to send, requests to be made. Even here, there’s no shortage of items on your never-ending to-do list. 

Seokjin’s not due to clock in for another several hours, at least. But he works long days and longer nights, and he deserves at least the morning off. He should at least be afforded that small luxury. 

Sitting down in your office chair, you pull yourself into the desk, elbows resting on the hardwood, head in your palms. The smell of coffee wafts through the air, thick and potent, waking up your nerves, one by one, sending small waves through your brain. You close your eyes, almost drifting back to sleep, sighing happily. 

Today feels like a good day. 

The hours pass quickly when you’re here, the sun rising slowly in the sky as it always does, day in and day out. You rely on it as much as it relies on you, wakes up this little corner of the world, says hello to the people stepping out of their doors and onto the street. No matter what, you know that the sun will always be there to greet you when you wake and say goodbye before you sleep. Within thirty minutes your coffee is finished, within the hour your emails are answered. 

One by one, you check the tasks off your list, responding to a phone call or two, forwarding some files to your father, rejecting a business proposal and requesting changes to another. You don’t even notice the minutes blowing past you until the sun is high in the sky, and the clock is chiming twelve. Noon, already?

“Knock knock,” a voice from the doorway calls. 

You feel your body relax when you see Seokjin standing there, peeking his head into your office like he always does. He looks much more casual today, a sweater vest over a button-down shirt, looser beige pants in place of his usual tailored slacks, hair sitting in a tousled mess atop his head, forehead peeking through the strands that hang low over his face, brushing his eyelashes. Instinctively, you glance down to your usual pantsuit attire. Did you miss a memo?

“What, no coffee for me today?” You tease, an eyebrow raised as Seokjin enters, coffee cup-less.

“Not today, sorry,” he says with a guilty smile. “I thought that maybe we could get something else to eat.”

“Oh!” You exclaim happily. “Sure, we can order some delivery. What are you feeling? Sushi? A burger? Oh, I know this wonderful brunch place that’s just a few blocks away—”

Seokjin laughs, a hand reaching out to push your phone done. The mere sensation of his fingertips upon your skin are enough to have you looking back up at him, shellshocked, heart frozen in place. “I was thinking something a little different.”

“Like what?” There are plenty of options for the two of you to pick from.

“How about you and I take a break this afternoon?” He asks, eyes wide with ambition. 

You frown, nose scrunched up at the notion. “A break? You mean… leave?”

Seokjin nods. Oh, so you did hear him correctly. “You’re always working so hard. You should take some time off.”

“Ugh,” you respond, rolling your eyes, having had this conversation thousands of times before. “You sound like Hoseok.”

“Hoseok’s right, Miss Y/N,” Seokjin points out, much to your chagrin. “You’ve been working so much lately. Just a little break, alright? We can get out of here and do something fun.”

“Nice try, Seokjin,” you say with a scoff, turning back to the work in front of you. “Maybe some other time.” Which means never, so long as you can help it. 

“Oh, come on,” Seokjin says, a pleading lilt to his voice. He’s beginning to pout in front of you, lower lip turned outwards. “Just a couple of hours, please? We can go into the city and walk around for a little bit. Eat some food in the park, or something.”

You look up to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. That does sound good… but you have work to do, items to cross off your list. This hotel isn’t going to manage itself, and neither is your life. “A couple of hours?” You clarify, interest piqued. 

“Just a couple,” Seokjin promises, fighting off the grin that’s etching its way across his face. “Please?”

You sigh. 

Twenty minutes and a Lyft ride later, you and Seokjin are standing in the middle of the city, along the streets known for their high-class fashion boutiques and expensive restaurants with afternoon tea. There’s a park a couple of blocks to the north. It’s a part of the city that you rarely get to spend time in, usually trapped in the business skyscraper sector a ten-minute subway ride away, but for that reason alone, it feels brand new. 

Seokjin buys you both a cup of expensive coffee despite your objections, and the two of you walk along the sidewalks side by side, sipping from your paper cups with plastic lids, letting the warmth wash down your throats. 

It’s nice, being out here. Away from anything that reminds you of work. With someone you’ve wanted to spend more time with for a while, now. 

Out here, you can almost pretend. Pretend that you aren’t the heiress to a major global conglomerate, pretend that you aren’t being groomed to marry up, pretend that life is just a little more normal. 

Out here, you can almost pretend that you and Seokjin are more than just friends. 

“Oh my God, Y/N, look at this shirt!” Seokjin gasps, stopping in his tracks in front of the window of one of the most expensive luxury boutiques you can name. You’re pretty sure that Jungkook shops here sometimes. 

The shirt in question is a satin white button-down with hand-stitched birds decorating the fabric, wispy little designs that seem to be fluttering off of the material itself. It stands front and center in the window, a masterpiece meant to have people stopping in the streets just to gaze up at it in awe. It’s doing its job rather well. 

“You wanna try it on?” You offer, motioning towards the door of the shop, a sleek, black one with metallic silver accents. 

“What?” He asks, turning to you with an eyebrow raised. 

You smile, pointing up at the shirt, eyes tracing the drape of the fabric. “Come on, just for fun.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing to have Seokjin marching up to the door and pulling it open, giddy like a child walking into a toy store. He spots what he’s looking for immediately, a single shirt on a silver rack, hanging from a simple wire hanger. Other than the one on the mannequin in the window, there seems to be no other option. 

“It even feels expensive,” Seokjin sighs happily, hand brushing over the satin fabric. He holds it out to you, and it’s so light and pliable that you can barely feel your fingertips touching the material. 

“There’s the fitting room,” you say, pointing to the back corner, black velvet held up by a rod, muted gray paint lining the walls. Seokjin grins excitedly at you before rushing off, disappearing behind the curtain with a flourish. 

Instinctively, your eyes trace the interior, jumping from the hangings on the walls to the decorative shelves, the pastel cashmere sweaters and shiny leather loafers, the silken white button downs and navy striped ties. Every item in this room practically screams Seokjin’s name, and even when he isn’t in front of you can you picture him wearing each piece, picture him in an oversized light pink sweater or a sleek white suit. 

It’s weird. You’ve never been able to imagine things like that. Not even on you. 

The clothes in here are some of the most gorgeous garments you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on and yet there is something else in this room that outshines them all. 

“Ready?”

You turn back to the fitting room, watch as the curtain shifts slightly. “Ready,” you say.

A hand comes out to push the curtain to the side, satin sleeves covering his wrist, but not even that glimpse of skin could really prepare you for the sight before your eyes. 

Seokjin steps out of the fitting room and you almost gasp aloud at the sight. 

The funny part is that he isn’t wearing anything else designed to complete the look. His hair is loose and floppy, like he had brushed through it with his fingers once or twice before deciding it was good enough. His pants are a roomy beige, hardly even complimenting the monochromatic shirt, white with black accents. He’s wearing sneakers. 

And yet, he looks stunning. 

Standing in front of you, Seokjin looks like the kind of person that your parents would want to set you up with. Rich, well-dressed (not that he isn’t already), powerful, educated. But he looks like more than that, too. He looks like someone straight out of a painting, like a sculpture that belongs in a museum. He stands tall and mighty, the hero after defeating a villain, the love interest in an old-timey film. 

God, he looks amazing. Looks like he belongs in those clothes, belongs in this store. Belongs in the kind of life that the usual clientele of this store live in. Something about him is just so familiar. Like he has always fit into the crowd that your parents want you to associate with. Like you’ve seen him before, once upon a dream. 

“So,” he says, interrupting your thoughts with a smug smile. “How do I look?”

He must already know the answer to that. 

You’re speechless. “I—Wow, Seokjin. You look great.”

A hand comes up to rub at the nape of his neck. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you correct. “It fits you perfectly.”

The fabric shapes his shoulders but drapes over the rest of his torso, including his ridiculously small waist. It both hangs loosely and hugs all of the right places. Your family regularly gets clothing tailored and yet you still don’t think you’ve ever seen any item of clothing fitting someone as well as this one does him. It’s as if the damn thing was made for him. 

“It feels like I’m wearing a cloud and a blanket all at once,” he says dreamily, relishing in the feeling. “If only the price tag made me feel this way too.”

“How much is it?” 

Seokjin holds out the sleeve to which the tag is attached for you to inspect, and the moment you see a comma in the cost, you understand why. No wonder Jungkook’s fine with shopping here. To your family, that amount is pocket change.

“But you really like it, don’t you?” You ask, looking back up at him, closer now. Seokjin nods, lips pressed together in a thin line, wanting something that he knows he can’t have. You know that feeling, too. 

“I would get it if I didn’t mind taking out a loan for it,” he jokes, admiring the detail at the cuffs, the way it cinches in towards his wrist. 

“Then let me buy it for you,” you say before thinking twice, because you have more money than you realistically know what to do with and Seokjin deserves it. He looks gorgeous in it and more importantly, he feels gorgeous in it. He emerged from the fitting room and it was almost like there was this white glow surrounding him, this fluorescent halo that made it seem like the shirt was melting into his body. 

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “What? No, I can’t let you.”

“Please?” You plead, eyes gazing up to him. “You deserve it. Plus, you look amazing.”

“It’s so much money,” Seokjin reminds you, shaking his head. “I can’t. No.”

“Seokjin, do you even know who I am? I can afford it, don’t worry,” you assure him, already pulling him towards the register, his old sweater vest and button down still hanging on the rack inside the fitting room. 

“No, I can’t let you. It might not be a lot of money to you, but it is to me,” insists Seokjin, refusing to back down. 

You roll your eyes, figuring out the game that he’s playing. “Then consider it a thank you. For all of the things that you do for me. The least of which is bringing me coffee every day.”

“That’s just my job, Y/N—” He reaches out a hand to stop you from getting out your wallet, his enormous palm cupping yours as you stare at him, fighting over the shirt like two friends with a restaurant bill.

“No,” you tell Seokjin, because his job is to be a hotelier but he became a friend instead. And he didn’t do it just because he was told to. “You deserve it,” you say, placing your free hand on top of his. It makes him look at you, eyes glossy and big and beautiful. “You really do, Seokjin. This is the least I can do to say thank you for being there for me.”

“Ma’am?” 

The lady behind the counter catches you both off guard. “Will you be buying this shirt?”

Seokjin looks down at you in disbelief, almost like he doesn’t expect you to say yes. Like he doesn’t think he’s worthy of a shirt with such a high price tag.

But little does Seokjin know, if you could buy the whole universe for him, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

You walk out of the boutique with a light heart and a lighter credit card, with Seokjin by your side and his old clothes in a cardstock bag with ribbons for handles. Even if he had resisted at first, you’re happy that he caved. He looks stupidly handsome. You’re actually somewhat regretting agreeing that he should wear the shirt out instead. 

A block away from the park is a little macaron store with more available flavors than you can count on both of your hands and toes. Feeling insatiable, you buy a box of twenty-four and decide on the spot that you won’t be leaving the center of the city without having finished them all. The mere scent of the shop as you walked in was enough to send you into a tizzy. 

Seokjin scopes out an open spot on the grass, in the shade of a big Japanese maple tree, and the two of you immediately settle down in the park, the blades tickling your ankles as you set the box of macarons in between the two of you and get to work filling your stomachs. 

“All of my friends are going to think that you’re like, my sugar mommy for buying me this,” Seokjin says, taking a bite out of the lavender one. 

“If you’re really that embarrassed, you could always say that I just gave you a raise,” you offer, peering over into the box to pick your poison. The problem is that you just want to shove all twenty-three into your mouth. 

“No way,” says Seokjin over a mouthful of macaron. “A sugar mommy is way more exciting. I’m just lucky I have a boss with a bank account.”

“Well, unlike all of the other men that my parents have sent me on dates with, you actually deserve to have someone treat you once in a while,” you say happily, eventually deciding on a lemon flavored macaron and popping the entire thing into your mouth. “I’ve met very few men who are as charming as you, Seokjin. Charming and kind.”

“‘Very few’?” Seokjin repeats, interest piqued. “Who dares upstage me?”

You laugh at his brazenness, his attractive confidence. “Oh, no one,” you say with a shrug of your hand. “There was this one guy I met at my birthday party, but I didn’t even catch his name.”

“Too busy mingling to ask?” Seokjin teases, looking sufficiently less confident than he did ten seconds ago. Like someone you had just said caught him off guard. 

“Yes, actually. And you don’t really need to know this, but he was an excellent kisser, too. Really sent me into a tailspin,” you say, feeling the faint sensation dance across your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. “But he ran off at midnight like Cinderella and left only a mask behind to remind me that I didn’t dream up the whole thing.”

“Ah,” Seokjin says with a nod, a strangely succinct answer for a man as wordy as he. A silence settles over the two of you as you continue to eat, slowly emptying out the box of macarons between the two of you, a light snack to keep you occupied when your mouths aren’t running circles around each other. “My dog gave birth a few weeks ago,” he says randomly. “Want to see some photos?”

At your enthusiastic reply, Seokjin pulls his phone from his pocket and opens up his camera roll to reveal a gorgeous terrier with four equally adorable puppies nursing from her, and your heart nearly melts. Nearly all of his most recent photos are pictures of them as they’ve grown older, opened their eyes and learned how to walk, started play-fighting with each other and eventually tracking into new territory (the living room), but you don’t miss the couple of selfies you see here and there. Even with the warped iPhone camera does Seokjin still look positively flawless. 

“They’re adorable, Seokjin,” you tell him, heart soft. “I’m in love.”

“Me, too,” Seokjin says happily. “Two of the puppies have future homes but I think I want to keep one of them. I just love them too much to let them all go.”

“You’ll make a great dog dad,” you assure him, sighing contentedly. “God, don’t you even know how perfect you are, Seokjin?”

He is silent. 

“Like, you bring me coffee every day and do all of your work and never talk down to me or assume that I don’t know what I’m doing. You’ve raised a family of dogs and have shown them more love than anything else. You even got me to leave the office for once even though you knew that I’d be really annoying about it,” you declare, partially to him, partially to you, and partially to the world, who deserves to know that there is someone out there like Seokjin that is equal parts wonderful and generous and kind and handsome and funny and lovable. 

It’s not just the fact that most of your interactions with men your age go sour. It’s the fact that Seokjin is good just because he is, not because he tries to be. It’s the fact that he cares so deeply and loves so much. It’s the fact that for once, there is someone out there who really does understand you. 

“You deserve a break,” Seokjin points out. “You work too hard.”

“Hoseok will be so angry that you accomplished what he’s been trying to get me to do for months, now,” you say. You’ve already missed three phone calls and seven texts from him within the last couple of hours. 

“It’s my charm,” Seokjin teases, a soft watermelon macaron grin on his face. 

“It really is,” you agree, feeling the gap between you close, inch by inch. “There’s just something about you, Kim Seokjin.”

“Mmm, do tell,” Seokjin murmurs, beginning to lean in, your bodies moving of their own accord. Your mouth tastes like lemon and sugar and coffee, but you can’t find it in yourself to care any less. “Because there’s something about you too, Miss Y/N.”

Slowly, you feel your eyes begin to drift shut, craving more than what you already have, itching to feel his lips press against yours, to feel that same fire in your feins. Of course, the next time you kiss someone would be here, underneath a giant Japanese maple in the middle of a city park, the furthest cry from a hotel balcony beneath a starry sky. But something about this is distinctly familiar in a way that you can taste, in a way that you will know once his lips press against yours. Beside you, Seokjin is barely an inch apart from you, pink lips with macaron crumbs hovering over yours. God, he’s so close. 

You want him to be closer. 

And then—

“Aw, what the—?”

The two of you jerk apart to find a giant stain on Seokjin’s shoulder, courtesy of an unknown flying park visitor who has long disguised themselves amongst the leaves of the maple, waiting for the right time to do its business. 

“Seriously?” Seokjin groans, looking down at the white and brown stain that now rests squarely on the fabric of his brand new shirt, an unpleasant splat front and center. “Thank you, bird,” he declares, throwing his hands up in the air. 

You fight the urge to laugh at how uncanny all of this is. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning.”

“No, it’s alright,” Seokjin says, grabbing a couple of the napkins from the macaron shop to dab on the stain. “A little soap and laundry detergent will be enough. No big deal.”

“I just feel bad,” you tell him. 

“Me, too,” Seokjin agrees, pressing gently against the fabric. “Great timing, too.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, dejected. 

Perhaps, if you were a little bit bolder or a little less fearful, you would try again. You would throw caution to the wind and press his lips against his, bird business and all, and never look back. You would relish in the sensation of his mouth on yours, of his hands on your waist, itching to feel that same feeling again. Itching to know that there really is someone out there who will love you. 

But you aren’t, and the moment is over. And you can’t, because you just don’t know how to. And you ponder if you will forever wonder what he tastes like, what he feels like. 

The clock strikes three. 

Some days you come in early, and some days you stay in late. 

Later than usual, that is, because you regularly stay past eight in the evening without blinking an eye. 

But some nights, you just don’t feel like going home. At least, not yet, you do. Some nights, you would rather stay here.

Home is where you’re supposed to feel at ease, where you’re supposed to relax and unwind, take off your heels and jacket, pour yourself a cup of tea. And that is what your home is to you, a place that you try to keep as free of your work life as possible. 

But sometimes, you would rather just work. 

Rather work and feel productive and get home a little bit later than go home and feel like you still have so much to do. Rather work than dwell on all of the other parts of your life that don’t involve work, things like marriage and retirement and your family. Things that you feel like you have no say in, no control over. You go home and waiting for you is another phone call from your mother telling you that you need to find someone. You go home and your father drops by to hand you a pile of late-night tasks reminiscent of how hard he’s been working lately. You go home and even if you’re all by yourself, your thoughts take control over your mind. Your worries and fears are magnified. 

So some nights, you would rather just work. 

Peering out the window of your office, you notice that the stars are just a little bit brighter out here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Not nearly as clear as they were on your birthday, at a hotel overlooking the town from afar, but clearer. There isn’t a cloud in the sky as the stars twinkle above you, waving hello from millions of light years away. 

Nights like these are too rare to spend indoors, huddled over your computer as you draft another email. Just because you’re still at work doesn’t mean you still have work to do. Well, you do, but you’re trying to be kinder to yourself. Trying to cut yourself a few more corners of slack. 

The rooftop is not off limits to guests. But you know a couple of secret places that can afford you the privacy you want, the space to lie back against the cement and feel the breeze tickle your skin.

When you arrive, there’s already someone there. A familiar tuft of brown hair, an oversized pink sweater. You wonder how long he’s been out here. 

“Knock knock.” Your sounds like a whisper but feels like a shout, the wind carrying the words from your lips to his ears as he turns around, hardly surprised to see you here. 

Seokjin laughs when he sees you, this fond, wonderful smile as you stroll up beside him, where he’s sat with his legs crossed on the rooftop’s edge, looking out over the distant city, the waterfront. “Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he says. 

“I could say the same for you,” you retort easily, setting down beside him. If you were any braver, you’d rest your head on his shoulder. 

You’re not. 

“You must know by now that I practically live here,” Seokjin jokes.

“Well, I’m starting to pay rent as well, so you better get used to it, don’t you think?” You tease back, looking out into the same city, illuminated by the same moon. 

Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I thought that you were going to start taking it easy on yourself,” he reminds you pointedly, one of the lasting lessons you had learned from the day out on the town. The other being not to sit underneath Japanese maple trees. 

“What can I say, I just love to work,” you say, and even though you try to make it sound like a joke both you and Seokjin know you’re not kidding. Work always has and always will be your biggest priority. Never have you lived in a world where anything else comes first. Never have you cultivated that sort of life for yourself. 

“How’s your family?” He asks, a broad question with a loaded answer. 

You don’t even feel yourself letting out a sigh until the groan leaves your lips, settling like dust. “The same as always,” you say, not even attempting to sound cheerful or happy about it. “They work me hard because they want me to succeed. And I want that, too.”

“But don't you ever want something more?” Seokjin asks, but it’s not the sort of question where he wants you to give him a yes or a no. It’s the sort of question where he already knows that you want to say yes, that there is a whisper deep inside of you that wants to have a life outside of your job, your workaholic family. But you can’t. Because your family is counting on you. 

“I just can’t let them down,” you say instead, because you and Seokjin both already knew how you were going to respond anyway. “There’s so much that they expect of me. What kind of heiress—no, what kind of daughter am I if I don’t at least try?”

“It sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot,” Seokjin muses. 

You force a chuckle. Obviously you have. Whenever you aren’t working, you’re thinking about what next you must do, what next is on your list. You’re thinking about how your family is counting on you to succeed. And how you want to do it for them. “I’ve had my moments.”

“Do a lot of people know how you feel?” He poses, looking at you curiously. 

You shrug. “Not really. My parents, no. Jungkook, sort of. Hoseok, yes. And I suppose you, now, too.”

Seokjin cracks a small smile, this lopsided grin that makes you feel like you’re missing something. “So I guess they’re secrets, aren’t they?”

“Secrets?” You respond naively, an eyebrow raised in bewilderment. 

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh my God,” you say aloud, dumbfounded. “Oh my fucking God. It’s you?”

Seokjin laughs out loud at that, clapping his hands together at your positively shocked face, mouth agape like a fish out of water. He seems very amused by this, for some reason. A reason you can’t ascertain, mostly because you had no idea. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even figured it out from that. It took you forever to realize.”

You’re so scandalized you don’t even have the right words to respond. “What do you mean, ‘it took forever for me to realize’? Why didn’t you say something?” You demand. 

Seokjin’s still fighting off the remnants of his laughter, hiccups escaping from his parted lips every few seconds. “Because it was obvious you didn’t recognize me at first! And I had no idea it was you until you showed up at the hotel that first day anyway. And I didn’t want to bring it up, because I was worried it would have made things weird.”

“Look at us now!” You cry, positively mortified. Seokjin knew it was you the moment you stepped through the sliding glass doors and you still hadn’t figured it out, not even after weeks of knowing him, of getting to spend time with him. “God, I just—I can’t believe this.”

“The funny part is how I knew you had no idea who I was and yet I fell for you anyway,” Seokjin says, but his words aren’t making you laugh whatsoever. 

Your heart freezes in place as they sink in, etching themselves into your thoughts. “You—you what?”

“You befriended me without knowing that I was the man you kissed on the balcony that night, let me bring you coffee and confided in me and bought me the most expensive item of clothing that I currently own,” Seokjin says, a list of things that you loved him for all the same, “and I realized that it didn’t take that kiss to get me to fall for you. It took knowing you. Learning who you are. Who you want to be.”

You feel your heart getting lighter with every syllable that leaves his mouth, every breath that he takes. 

The truth is that no man had ever made you feel the way that the mystery man did when you kissed that night. But no man had ever loved you the way that Seokjin did. Treated you the way that Seokjin did. The kiss was a spark. 

The friendship was the fire. 

“All this time you were right here,” you muse, looking at him. Here in the moonlight you finally understand why he looked so familiar, why the light hit his skin in all the right places, why the sound of his voice had always struck a chord within you. He glows silver in the moonlight and yellow from the halo above his head, he sits beneath the navy sky and lets the starlight decorate his irises, sparkles in a deep brown ocean. “All this time, and I had no idea.”

“I’m sort of glad you didn’t know,” Seokjin admins sheepishly. “We got to fall in love another way.”

Love?

Could it be?

You’ve never truly been in love. Not the way that your parents are, or the sneaky way you see Yoongi looking at Jungkook sometimes when he’s not looking. But if it feels anything like this, anything like electricity beneath your skin and embers inside your chest, then you think you might be on your way. 

“You’re in love with me?” You ask. 

“Kinda, yeah,” Seokjin admits crudely. 

You feel your cheeks heating up, your heart bubbling within you. You lean in close, watching faintly as he does the same, eyes trained on your lips. “Do you have any other secrets for me?” You murmur, the words hot and heavy on your tongue. 

He inches closer to you, lips hovering above your own, this soft, contented smile on his face as he gazes down at you, at the way that you are beginning to love him back, at the way that you already do. 

“This.”

The words barely leave his lips before he’s pressing them against yours, and the moment you touch him you know, you know that it’s him, that it’s Seokjin, that he is the man that you have been waiting for. Immediately your body lights up, electric shocks tearing through your veins, blood set alight. He is so familiar, smells and tastes and feels so familiar, like you have known him for a thousand years and you’ll know him for a thousand more. You get the same sensation you had when you last kissed him, all those nights ago, your body going weak, your skin turning to flames, but there’s something else, too. 

A burst in your chest. A puff of smoke in your heart. 

A fireplace. A little room in your heart, just for the two of you. For you. For your love. 

You think you could get used to this. 

He pulls away after a few moments and immediately you feel dizzy, like his lips were the only thing keeping you stable, closing your eyes as you burn the feeling into your brain, memorize how his mouth presses against yours. 

When you finally open them, there Seokjin sits, kiss-drunk and in love, this goofy, wonderful smile on his face. 

“I’m still angry at you for not telling me. You could have saved us so much time,” you declare, not wanting the moment to last too long for fear that you’ll become obsessed.

Seokjin laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your nose. “Even if you forgot who I was tomorrow, I wouldn’t tell you,” he says, this stupid perfect grin on his face, this gorgeous, brilliant grin, “because I would happily fall in love with you all over again.”

God, he is so beautiful. A dream come true. A happy ever after.

The following morning your father saves you the trouble of having to awkwardly explain why you don’t feel comfortable continuing to oversee the resort hotel by letting you know that you’re welcome back in the central building in town and that he’ll have another executive replace you. Thank God, because that would have been one strange phone call. 

Luckily, when your parents do eventually meet Seokjin, they are pleased to see that he’s been a loyal hotelier to your family’s conglomerate for several years now, and that he excels at his job. You also think that your mother’s just gotten softer over the years, wishing more for you to be happy than for you to be married to someone you hate. 

It’s a good thing Seokjin’s charming. Otherwise, you have no idea what could have happened. But he’s here, and he’s with you, and your parents are happy and so are you. What more could you ask for?

“Your mom really didn’t have to throw this whole party just for me,” Seokjin whispers into your ear as the music plays on inside, this soft classical sound that Yoongi had composed not too long ago. 

You turn around to look back in through the window, watching all of the guests waltzing along to the song. Jungkook’s in the back corner, behind the grand piano, and you can see him throwing winks Yoongi’s way every now and then. The sound of the party is barely audible from out here, in the stars’ silence, in the faint way the night whispers, this distant white noise.

“Throwing parties is her thing,” you explain helplessly. “Besides, you’re part of the family now, aren’t you?”

“Hey now, we aren’t married just yet,” he reminds you pointedly. “Unless you—?”

“Only after my father’s retirement next month,” you tell him for the umpteenth time. It’s not that you don’t want to be married. It’s that you don’t have time. You’re about to inherit an entire empire. You would prefer not to be juggling two major life events at once, if you can help it. “Besides, you don’t even have a ring.”

“How do you know that?” He asks innocently.

You smack him in the torso with your satin-gloved hand, shocked. “What?”

“I never said anything,” he teases, looking off to the side far too guiltily for your liking. 

You place your hands on your hips and turn firmly to face him. “Kim Seokjin, do you want to marry me?” You demand. 

Seokjin laughs, twirling you around before pressing a kiss to your lips, the two of you giggling. “Always!” He declares to the world. “I think about marrying you every day of my life.”

You grin. “Then we will. Then let’s get married. After my father’s retirement, of course.”

“Of course,” Seokjin agrees. 

“What do you think the theme should be?” You ask, racking your brain for potential options. You like the idea of a rustic, cottage-y wedding. Or perhaps a more celestial one. Or maybe, if you wanted to go full circle, a masquerade.

Seokjin smiles. It’s clear he already has his answer. 

“How about Cinderella?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[lupismaris]

Blackberry Crepes- silverflintham black sails modern au ficlet

(i saw a few posts about how love is sharing food and making breakfast for your loved ones and lets just say this is part 1 of a series in which Flint cooks for his loved ones when saying i love you might not be enough)

Sleep was something of a stranger to Silver. He liked to joke that he didn’t need it, that he could just cat nap for half an hour here and there, and be good for a few days, that he was just built different, the perks of life on the run and never having a real routine. But in truth he’d push himself until his body gave out and he slept for 18 hours and woke up feeling like death warmed over. That was the only way he’d be able to get any real sleep. Pushing himself to the point of exhaustion, or, as he had eventually learned with Flint and Thomas, getting well and truly laid until his brain shut off and his body felt like lead.   He preferred the latter, of course, but it still wasn’t something he felt he could readily ask for. Especially when it wasn’t enough to keep his mind quiet. Dreams, nightmares, they’re funny things. You can think you’re too tired to dream and then on your way into an REM cycle you get blind sided by the most vivid night terror you’ve had in the past three months. You could be napping on the couch when the phantom limb starts acting up and your mind conjures memories of when you lost it or just vague ideas of what life would be like if you hadn’t and you wake up unable to tell which is worse. You could be strung out and coming down from an orgasmic high and then feel your stomach drop when you finally fall asleep and your mind tells you it isn’t safe, jolting you violently back to consciousness. Or you could be dozing in the early morning hours, the way Silver had been, after a good night, a genuinely good night, and find yourself halfway between deep sleep and waking, faced with fears you’d buried so far deep you hoped they’d suffocate. They’d gone to dinner, on a date even. Flint and Thomas had made a point to be home and get dressed up and take him out on the town and pay complete attention to him, like he was just a normal lover and not, well, himself. It was still an adjustment for him, this idea that he could just have this, a normal relationship with men who actually wanted him, where using each other wasn’t part of it, where the end game wasn’t someone’s bank account or an act of violence, where there wasn’t even an end game to consider. By the end of July the charms of summer had started to wear thin, even for Silver, and he was tired of the heat and the mirror like cage of the city, he was tired of the long days and the long conversations and the longer shadows on the blistering asphalt. He was tired of the haze that made his mind question what was and wasn’t real, despite knowing what was. It left him on edge and he knew Flint could tell, no matter how hard he worked to hide it. If Thomas knew, he was at least polite enough not to give it away. Dinner had been lovely. A little Spanish place by the promenade, followed by a short walk since the evening was cooler than expected and a breeze of the Hudson meant it was almost blissful. There had been wine and Flint’s homemade limoncello tarts when they got home and endless lazy kisses and one of them always touching him as if trying to keep him tethered. There had been sex, great sex, not that Silver had ever had bad sex with the pair of them (the smug rotten bastards), but the kind where Silver had been able to let go and drown in it for a while, let someone else carry the load, and do the thinking for a while. It still hadn’t been enough.

Silver sighed, a cloud of smoke curling around his face as he watched the rooftops shift and glimmer in the faded teal skies of four am, his second cigarette of the hour dangling somewhat carelessly from his fingers. He had tried, valiantly he felt, to stay in bed with Flint and Thomas, to sleep curled up with them the way Flint always hoped he would after sex. Some nights it worked and he’d wake up when Flint went for his blasphemous morning run. Most nights though he’d wait until Thomas was out cold and snoring like a bear, then kiss Flint goodnight, and slip back to his room next door. He’d fallen asleep tucked into Flint’s chest, with Flint’s arm around him and the deep rumble of his breathing filling his ears. Thomas was spooned up behind Flint, clinging to his husband like a child and snoring loudly, but that too was somehow comforting. He was safe, he was loved, he was home. And suddenly the next thing Silver knew he was choking on nothing and fighting the air, sitting bolt upright in bed with a wordless, noiseless scream of fear. The only saving grace was that it didn’t wake the others, Thomas still sound asleep and curled up under the covers, Flint spooned up behind him, years younger in sleep, a different man. Silver had sat there shaking for some time, half an hour, five minutes, he couldn’t be sure. Once he could breathe without wheezing and his hands had stopped shaking violently, he steadied himself and slipped out of bed, grabbing his crutch from where it rested dutifully against the nightstand. There wasn’t much he was good at in life, but John Silver had always been good at running. This wasn’t any different. Now, he was wrapped in an old blanket, hidden away on the roof where he’d been putting together his own little makeshift garden. Plants that he’d found half dead or dying on the curb, abandoned succulents from friends, houseplants he found on discount at the hardware store that he’d barter down to a dollar. He liked the distance heights gave him, always had, was always climbing things as a kid to try and get a better view, try to hide away from prying eyes. It was harder now that he had the prosthetic, but the elevator could take him up to the loft, and the stairs to the roof weren’t too steep, so he could manage them with his crutch. It wasn’t that he didn’t love the little patch of green paradise that Flint and Thomas had nurtured down below, he loved it and the time they spent there. But this- this little scrap of roof top, with it’s homemade shelves of plywood and resurrected plants, was his. Silver took another drag from his cigarette and watched a flock of pigeons shift their course in flight, heading west towards Manhattan where the morning crowds were no doubt slowly beginning to stir. Even on Saturdays, the city got a bright and early start if it ever truly decided to rest. He could hear tidbits of conversation from his perch, voices carried up to him like secrets as their owners walked past, heading home from work, from a night out, leaving home to go to work, whatever their little lives demanded, existing in spite of themselves, for themselves. Cars hummed past, cabbies and uber drivers trying to catch the last of the club goers as they left the bars in search of a trip home, picking up the true early bird tourists as they tried to beat the others to some absurd event or another. He could even hear music, someone’s window open on their block he thought, and the faint repetitive sound of a piano as they worked through their scales. Maybe he wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping. The neighborhood would be well and truly awake soon. The running group would be on the corner waiting for the stragglers, hitting the asphalt by five am. The store fronts and bodegas would start opening up around six, the bars by eight if they served brunch, and the world would come to life at Silver’s feet. He had until then to quiet the noise in his head and remember how to put his mask back on. The sound of the door nearly gave him a heart attack. He thought for a moment that maybe, if he kept still, he’d go unnoticed, they the sparse shelves and plants and the blanket might hide him well enough that Flint, because it was always Flint, would go back down stairs and go for his morning run and leave him well enough alone. But he knew better. “Do I want to know how long you’ve been up here?” came the sleep heavy rumble of a voice. “Depends on whether you want to be disappointed this early in the morning,” Silver replied dryly. And there it was, the telltale sigh of disappointment, because Flint was going to be disappointed no matter what answer he got. “Silver-” “I don’t want to do this right now.” “Do what?” Silver sighed and rubbed at his eyes. He heard Flint move across the roof, the soft footsteps of bare feet on the weatherproof matting slow and well chosen, stopping next to him. “This thing you do where you try and bully answers out of me. I don’t fucking feel up to these games, alright? I just- I don’t,” Silver said, risking a look upwards. Flint was shirtless, as he always was when fresh out of bed, but he’d pulled on a pair of old sweatpants before going to look for Silver. He’d left his hair loose, the rich copper strands hanging in a curtain around the left side of his face, the shaved under cut peaking out along the right. Silver could still see the pillow prints on his cheek, and his beard was disgruntled and unbrushed the way it rarely was when he left the house. Silver loved him like this, he loved Flint always, but there was something about Flint like this, soft and at ease, bare chested and vulnerable that managed to settle even the worst of Silver’s deep seated insecurities. Because who else got to have Flint like this? Who else but Silver and Thomas got Flint at his gentlest? They looked at each other for a moment, Flint frowning softly with his hands on his hips and Silver wrapped up in his blanket, saying nothing, saying everything they could. Then Flint sighed and sat down next to him. “I’m not here to bully you,” he said gently, taking the cigarette that Silver was neglecting. “You were gone when I woke up, thought I’d check on you,” He paused, relighting the cigarette with his trusty old lighter, “but as you were not in your room I figured something was bothering you and you’d be either working in the office or up here.” “You didn’t have to check on me.” “It was for my sake, not yours.” Silver smiled faintly, his eyes stinging from what he hoped was just exhaustion but was probably tears. He didn’t look at Flint, just blinked them away and watched the sky lighten little by little as Flint finished the cigarette. “You know that’s not what I’m doing, right?” Flint asked after a few minutes of silence. “Whats not what you’re doing?” “Bullying you.” “I mean it’s kinda what you do.” “Is that how you see it?” Flint wasn’t looking at him. He was reaching for the French enamel cigarette case that was sitting next to Silver, one he’d stolen in Monaco several lives before, and lighting another cigarette. Silver watched him, a little wistful, and incredibly exhausted all at once. “No.” He said. “Yes. Depends on when you try and do it I guess.” That got a low hum from Flint, smoke filling the air for a moment in a pensive cloud. Silver waited, oddly tense, hoping that Flint would listen to him, and not try and play one of their fucked up little games so early in the morning. They were doing really well these days, not playing any games at all, having real, honest conversations like well adjusted adults who hadn’t done all the awful things they’d done, to each other, to others. But sometimes it was so much easier to just be awful to each other, to fall back into the old way of doing things. “I only check on you to know you’re still here,” Flint said finally. “I only ask if you’re alright because if I can fix it, I want to. I don’t care if you lie to me about what had you out of bed this morning. I don’t give a shit if you never tell me the names of your ghosts, I’ve told you that a dozen times, I know you remember that as well as you remember the names of my own ghosts.” Silver did remember, both the ghosts, and the plaintive way Flint had asked him to trust whatever it was they had between them. “I just want to know you’re still here. That you’ve not gone running off again. That you’ll run to me next time this,” he waved at the rooftop and the skyline as if encompassing all of Silver’s faulty coping methods, “fails and you’re out at sea. I just- I ask those questions to reassure myself, alright?” He paused, taking another drag from the cigarette, tipping his head back with a heavy sigh. Silver could see the age starting to show on his face again, in the soft lines around his eyes, the firm set of his mouth, the scars on his nose and throat, the endless sea of freckles, the faded ink of his tattoos, the streaks of gray in his beard. Before his eyes, the man he loved, his Flint, was appearing, returning to flesh and blood from the land of dreams. “You’re not the only one who’s scared, pup,” Flint added, finally turning his head and catching Silver looking at him. The sea green of Flint’s eyes always seemed to hook Silver, regardless of whether he wanted them to. They could be the deep inky black full of secrets or the still gray of quiet waters, it didn’t matter- if Flint looked at him, soft and open and endlessly patient the way no one else was, Silver would eventually break. Flint knew it, but so far, he never seemed to abuse the power he held. Silver smiled faintly. With a soft groan he shifted onto his knees, loving the way Flint’s hands immediately reached to steady him whether he needed it or not, and crawled into Flint’s lap, straddling his hips and wrapping the worn blanket around them both. He took the cigarette from Flint’s lips and stubbed it out in the ashtray, as Flints hands settled like an anchor, warm and sure, at the small of his back. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, old man,” Silver said, brushing Flint’s hair out of his eyes, “I promised you were stuck with me. No amount of nightmares are gonna change that.” He kissed Flint softly, smiling at the low rumbling purr it got him, at the way Flint’s hands pulled him closer, spread wide on his back. It was a soft, innocent thing, no heat, no hunger, and that too was still something novel to Silver, that he could have this innocent kind of intimacy with someone, with a man like Flint. He craved it as much as he craved the wilder side of love and was grateful that Flint seemed happy to satisfy both moods whenever they arose. “Good,” Flint said, once the lazy kiss broke and Silver tucked his face into Flint’s shoulder with a happy sound. “Because while I would absolutely give chase, I’d rather not have Thomas trailing after us as well. You know the kind of trouble he gets up to, just imagine him trying to find you.” Silver snorted with an undignified burst of laughter. “No, god, he’d be impossible.” “Exactly. I’d have my hands full just trying to keep him in one piece. I’ve got enough gray hair as it is, pup, don’t go giving me anymore before my time, alright?” Flint lifted his chin as Silver’s fingers petted the gray streaks in his beard, letting out another soft rumbling sound. “Alright. Though I do think it’s sexy.” “Yeah yeah, you’ve made that perfectly clear,” Flint kissed the top of Silver’s head, nuzzling his messy curls. “C’mon, why don’t we head inside, I think it’s a reasonable time for coffee.” “What about your run? Your awful five am morning ritual I can almost never talk you out of even for a blow job.” “I feel like skipping this morning.” Silver lifted his head, leveling Flint with a skeptical look and a raised eyebrow. Flint returned it with a fond smile. “Its Saturday, I feel like making breakfast,” Flint said with a shrug. I love you, Silver heard. “Can we have blackberry crepes? And scrambled eggs?” Silver asked after a moment. “And that fancy bacon you got from the farmer’s market?” Flint smiled, still fond and impossibly warm. Silver’s heart skipped, flipped, and settled in his chest. Flint had heard the unspoken, skittish, and undeniable “I love you too” tucked into Silver’s reply. Flint coaxed him into another soft kiss, still wearing that same smile.

  “Blackberry crepes it is.”

[bansheeoftheforest]

I Am Once Again Giving You London Gang!Jekyll Content

Okay but AU where Jekyll accidentally starts a gang though. He just helped people on the street way too often and then one day someone who opposes the Society just.. gets absolutely destroyed by a carriage out of nowhere. Jekyll gets a box with money and a note that refers to him as 'boss'. There are three routes this could then go.

Route 1: Jekyll is HORRIFIED, he did not want to start a GANG, he does not want to be a gang BOSS, but he can't tell them off because firstly, he doesn't know how he'd even do that, and secondly, they just KILLED SOMEONE, who's to say they won't kill him, too?? Jekyll must now try and figure out a way to solve this problem while Hyde has way too much fun (until he realizes the gang wants him dead for lighting their boss's building on fire).

Route 2: Jekyll is the most oblivious man on earth. He thinks one of the Lodgers gave him money as an apology. People who oppose the Society keep dropping dead and Jekyll keeps patching up the same people over and over who really like him for some reason, it is business as usual with how weird everything in his life already is. Someone (maybe your Crawford guy??) keeps trying to point out all the murders and link them to Jekyll but life hates this man specifically and nothing ever gets looked into because of the most ungodly amount of coincidences ever.

Route 3: Fuck it, he needs the money. He'll just wear a mask whenever he's duking it out in gang fights. He is surprisingly good at fighting, or maybe this could tie into the idea of Jekyll having been in a Scottish gang as a kid, but either way he mops the cobblestone streets with his opponents. He becomes one of the most feared and notorious gang leaders in London, and has a habit of targeting aristocracy that he knows are corrupt and abusive from meeting them as Dr. Jekyll at fancy events. Everything is all fine and well until Brokenshire approaches him saying they need to protect the doctor because clearly those in his social circles are being targeted. Sitcom level hijinks ensue.

(Bonus because I know you love your crackships: Jekyll gets challenged to a gang fight and meets a man in a tophat. He struggles a bit more than usual, but ultimately beats him. He is then held at gunpoint by this guy's sister demanding to know how he bested a trained assassin and whoa wait despite this guy having a bruised face now courtesy of himself he is actually very handsome haha ummm wait a minute did he just say that out loud and maybe invited him to get drinks as an apology for nearly kicking his teeth in uMMM- (bi disaster Dr. Jekyll strikes again!!))

Jeks. Jeks, my guy, thank you for making me laugh so hard, this is just... glorious. I love it all. Oh my god.

I don't know that route is best-- I honestly love the oblivious route bc of all the hijinx and Crawford wanting to rip his hair out in frustration and especially if it is a Syndicate au and it's the Crawford Starrick I based him off (which would make a lil less sense since he is gang leader tycoon and probably could have Jekyll killed but sssuuusshhhh) but I also love Henry just... Getting a goddamn Phantom Of The Opera-esque mask, deciding to go absolutely bonkers, painting entire alleyways red with the blood of his enemies, etc etc, and I absolutely love the idea of Brokenshire directly or indirectly approaching him asking him to protect himself, like they know that Jekyll's persona is well feared and a gang leader but they don't know that it is his gang that is targeting people so now Jekyll is the one sending assassins after abusive and corrupt aristocrats but also has a mission to protect himself from himself. Nice. I absolutely love it. I love it all. And I just... Hyde being do giddy until he realises that the gang wants him dead??? Fuck yes. Give me it all. I just love it so fucking much jfc i cant put it inTO WORDS.

Ok. Ok can we please combine the oblivious route with the masked gangleader phantom being the terror of london route??? Henry at first being completely oblivious, not realising why everyone that has ever insulted him and his work are suddenly disappearing one by one, Crawford wanting to rip his hair out in frustration bc "GUYS IT'S FUCKING JEKYLL HOW IS NO ONE SEEING IT" And jekyll just goes "ahah don't be silly Ricky, I'm not a gangleader lol". Henry being completely oblivious as the Lodgers suddenly get stalked by the gang members, only to be protected by them from other gangs or anti-sciences dudes, the Lodgers retelling the story to Jekyll who just goes like "oh wow man. Huh aren't those the people I have been patching up a lot lately. Strange. What a strange coincidence :)" but then a gang member gets really injured and Henry saves them from death and the gangmember is just... going like "wow, you are the best gang leader I have ever had, you are so much better than everyone else." and henry is just like "ahaha i'm a WHAT NOW"

Cue Henry deciding that, fuck it, if they already think of him as a gangleader why not take advantage of it. He has already been in gangs as a kid so he knows how they work. Quickly becomes a gangleader Tycoon, the lodgers/Rachel/Robert are all confused as to why people suddenly have stopped targeting them for robberies and shit and as to why Henry suddenly has a lot of money he spends on the Society and the bills. Henry telling them not to worry about it. He hears about a dude who suddenly has been swiping through all the ot her London gangs like a hot knife through butter, suddenly his gang is targeted so they are challenged to a gangfight. Henry beats the absolute shit out of him, he has him pinned to the ground when he hears a gun loading and he feels the hilt against his back. He is too busy staring into the beaten up guy's eyes to really care, wow he is so hot, the gangleaders demand that he takes off his mask or he gets shot. He instead lets go of the guy and just... Stands up, brushes himself off, tells them "ahaahh thanks but no thanks. also please stop destorying my gang we literally have not done anything provoking to you."

Anyways they agree to have their gangs work together (oh my god what would Henry's gang be called??? I imagine them wearing the colour blue bc the Rooks are green and the Blighters are red (since it's a specifically a syndicate au lol) but they probably would wear red if it's just tgs anyways off topic hehe). Henry invites them to a drink, his tab, they agree, they find out about all the accidental bullshit that Henry accidentally started and just... Yes pls. Also Jacob and Henry getting drunk and flirting like nobody's business, maybe Henry asking if Jacob likes guys and if he doesn't, is his sister single? Evie almost kicking his teeth in, Jacob laughing his ass off. Yes please.

ALso almost completely forgot the absolute scooby doo mystery of the twins trying to figure out who Henry is since he wears a mask and disguises his identity. Imagine them just being like... Who’s that pokemon? It’s dr. henry jekyll-- WAIT IT’S DR. HENRY JEKYLL????

[cdroloisms]

more of the ghost!dream au!! still no good names for it, sorry (feel free to give me recs? maybe?) - picking off right where we left off here [x]. i’ve gotten quite a bit of this pre-written already as well as quite a bit planned - it’s definitely one of my favorite universes at the minute and something im really excited to show yall !! 

tw: death, memory loss (?), grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy relationship, grief, emotional distress, implied torture/abuse, aftermath of prison arc/pandora’s vault, dark(ish?) portrayal of c!sam (he’s one of the main figures of this au lmao but it grapples quite a bit w/ what he did in pandora)

Sam had only met Ghostbur once.

He never knew the former president well, had been busy with his own base during the Revolution and came back to the server in chaos after an ill-fated election and the man exiled. It hadn’t mattered, much, at the time; Wilbur was an imposing man, even in others’ recollections of him, and their words left very very little to the imagination. From what he knew, Wilbur was a smart man, cunning and silver-tongued, brimming with an unending fountain of belief that he could change the world with his words and his words alone; the server, overrun with memories of scuffles and battles and wars and countries Sam had not been around to remember, only seemed to serve as proof that he could. The few glimpses of the man that he managed to catch showed dark, tired eyes, a figure that stood almost as tall as he did, lips twisted in a perpetual tight-lipped smile.

Even as he spiraled, unexplainably, whispers of madness chasing the wind and landing in choppy fragments in the Badlands meetings held over Skeppy and Bad’s dinner table, those eyes never became less piercing, never failed to seem like they were burning through whatever and whoever they looked at. Sam hadn’t been the subject of that stare many times, but he remembers the bone-deep anxiety from having those eyes on him, even now.

Ghostbur, somehow, was the complete opposite; where his eyes had once been all-too knowing, belying their owners’ intelligence, a ruthless penchant for analysis that would split bone from marrow with a single sharp-edged glance, the phantom’s eyes were completely vacant. Instead of the glossy whites and rings of brown that would flicker warm to cool and warm again without warning, there was only an empty, all-encompassing blue.

He had floated over to Sam following a particularly difficult- session, with the prisoner, greeting him with an airy call of his name as Sam set off to his base for the night. He’d startled, then, still fresh off the adrenaline that was sent coursing through his veins each time he entered those blackstone walls, and started a sort of easy, unfocused conversation as they went along the path to the nether portal.

Ghostbur was - off, for the lack of a better word, even with Sam’s lack of familiarity of either side of the man - who he’d been before and what he’d become. His memories slipped through his mind like water seeping through fingers, and his attention span didn’t seem much better. Still, Sam listened to that echoing, otherworldly voice, nodded along as he eagerly recounted his day - or what he could recall from it, at least, until his feet had brought him along the same well-worn path to the nether portal, spitting purple sparks into the night.

“I’ll have to be going, Ghostbur,” he’d said through a thin smile, muscles aching under netherite as he pulled his shoulders back. The ghost’s head had cocked to the side, watching him with empty eyes, hands outstretched in front of him, palms up.

“Sam-” the ghost blinked slowly, “Are you sad?”

Sam froze. Ghostbur stared at him, face still kept in that same blank expression, eyes still an endless blanket of blue, but something - in his stance, perhaps, in the echoes of his words as they reverberated off of nothing, felt familiar, felt like looking up expecting a window and coming face to face with a shattered mirror - before the phantom’s face broke out in a weightless smile.

“Have some blue!”

The blue was dropped unceremoniously into his hands as he fumbled the catch and nearly let it fall to the ground; the clear, glassy surface of it tainted blue by his fingertips, the color swirling and darkening in his hands. He watched it, mesmerized, as blossoms of blue bloomed beneath his skin; his feelings, sharp-edged, became sea glass tossed in its shifting waves, smoothed, numbed, slowly sucked away in a pulsing chorus of blue blue blue-

“That’s quite a lot of blue,” Ghostbur chirped, and Sam blinked at the thing in his hands - navy, the same color as the sky above their heads clinging to the last remnants of twilight - “Would you like some more?”

“...no thanks, Ghostbur,” Sam looked back up, feeling through the new, blue-tinged fog in his brain, memories blurred at the edges but lacking the same burning sting of regret, “Good night.”

“Good night, Sam!” Wilbur smiled, blank blue eyes trained on his face even as Sam stepped into the portal and the world swirled away. “See you soon!”

---

“Sammy,” Dream walked - no, floated, forwards as Sam took a step back, unresponsive, “is there something wrong?”

Sam swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

He was a spitting image to Dream as he first knew him; the same tousled hair, freckled face, down to the ratty old jacket that he’d insisted on wearing at all times, made of a garish shade of lime-green and covered in customized patches that Bad - unable to resist his puppy eyes - had always ended up fixing the thing with. He had a gap in his teeth that had left him with a lisp for weeks back then, prompting Sapnap’s teasing much to Dream’s annoyance; his head tipped to the side, curious, familiar, and something deep inside Sam’s chest ached.

“Dream-” he tried, chest tightening further when the ghost’s face broke out into a brilliant smile, “why are you here?”

Why do you remember me?

He hadn’t talked to Ghostbur much, but he’d heard, to some degree, about how the ghost operated, how his memories were inconsistent at best, seemingly dependent on the emotions he’d attached to them while alive. How he went through the world in a state of unshakable bliss at the cost of his mind. Dream’s memories of him should’ve been anything but happy; why was he here?

“What do you mean?” Dream blinked at him, eyebrows scrunched, lips set in a small frown. His eyes, black and vacant, seemed to swallow all light, even with the sun streaming through the branches. “Where am I suppos’d to go?”

“Don’t you want to be with George and Sapnap?”

Dream’s face was blank, and the pit in Sam’s gut grew deeper. “Who’s that?”

“George?” Sam could feel his voice begin to tremble, eyes widening. “Sapnap? You know them, right?”

“No?” Dream drew out the word, looking at him like he’d grown another head. “Should I know them?”

“Should you- Dream, this isn’t funny- they’re your best friends! They were your best friends- Pandas? Do you know Pandas?”

“You mean like in the jungles? I haven’t been in a jungle before, Sam, d’you think we could visit one?”

“No- Pandas, do you-” Dream only looked at him with the same confused, uncomprehending expression, not even a flicker of recognition in his face; Sam could hear his heart thudding in his ears, a distant horror growing and wrapping around his throat, “How about Ponk? Alyssa? Calla? Bad?”

Each name did nothing to change the blankness on Dream’s face, the screaming thoughts in Sam’s head growing to a fever pitch when the ghost in front of him shook his head, hair whipping back and forth.

“Nope!” His hands tugged at his hoodie sleeves, the movement familiar in a way that had echoes of long-forgotten memories drifting to the surface, holding his heart in a chokehold and squeezing tight. “Are they your friends?”

“Dream,” he stepped forward - felt a shadow of a pickaxe held in his fists, the shape of the name in his mouth bringing forth the taste of iron and smoke and painting the inside of his eyelids red - and stopped in his tracks. The images melted away, left just a kid standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on nothing, and Sam was going to be sick.

“Who do you remember?”

Dream smiled as the question registered, directing a look of such open, unadulterated adoration his way that it stole all of the air from Sam’s lungs.

“You, dummy!” He laughed, airy and light. “Who else?”

---

He brought him to his base, because what else was he supposed to do?

Dream skipped behind him, entirely enamoured with Fran; he watched as she melted under his enthusiastic scratches at the tufts of fur at her neck. He’d always been a soft touch with animals, had brought home stray mobs more than a few times as a kid; Sam swallowed around his unease and trudged forward.

“Puppy!” He nearly screeched with laughter, and Sam looked back to see Dream with his arms wrapped around Fran’s neck, face buried in her fur as giggles made his shoulders shake. Fran gave him a sloppy lick on the cheek, making him break out into a new round of high-pitched wheezes, “Good girl! Good puppy!”

“Hurry up, Dream,” Sam turned away. “We don’t have all day.”

“Oh- m’sorry,” Dream’s voice quieted, almost seemed to wobble, and Sam bit down on his tongue as they continued to walk back. He- didn’t know what to do, not with this version of Dream, not the little kid he’d half-forgotten instead of the masked monster he’d become so accustomed to. It was so much easier to slip into the mask, let his voice drop cold and deep and empty, the role of the Warden heavy and comfortable like a set of netherite armor. He pointedly kept his eyes staring forward, looking for the edge of the forest they’d ended up stuck in so he could finally see.

A sudden, yipping bark came from behind, thoroughly startling him and sending a sword appearing in a flash of white. He huffed at Fran, looking at him with faux innocent eyes, really?

Unfortunately, both she and Dream had somehow fallen ridiculously behind, the ghost having lowered to the ground at some point as Fran sat and wagged her tail. He rolled his eyes, making his way back towards the duo, feeling irritation press in the form of a headache against the front of his skull.

“Come on,” he muttered, wincing at how clipped his words sounded, even in his own ears. Not the same Dream, Sam. You’re not in the prison anymore. He shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes narrowing as he came closer; Dream hadn’t just stopped because of some distraction, as he first assumed. The kid was leaning against Fran, hands twisted loosely in her fur, head tipped forward and leaning against her body.

“Dream?”

The ghost looked up at his voice, one hand going to rub at his eye. His hair seemed to be moving around less than earlier, lips twisted in a small frown.

“M’sleepy, Sammy,” he mumbled around a yawn, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He reached both hands up, palms facing the sky, as he stared expectantly. “Up.”

Aren’t you a little big to be carried? The retort came to mind as easily as breathing, echoed in his own head by his own voice, younger, exasperated but fond. His arms shook with the memory of a kid wrapping his arms around his neck and fumbling with his crown, with the feeling of a dead weight resting against the crook of his elbows, tall and lanky and far too light for its size, held in his arms one final time-

“Please?”

Sam shook his head.

“We’re walking to my base. Come on.”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Tension

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Eleven

A JSE Fanfic

Ayy, another one! Are you excited? I am! The group heads back to Wyvernlair, with a few small scenes happening along the way. Marvin and Jameson are here now, having some time adjusting to being in the group. Then, once they actually arrive and meet up with Jackie, he and Marvin...well, they have a lot of stuff to sort out. Not to mention there’s something going on with Jameson... Anyway, here it is, enjoy reading :D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a few days for the group to lose any potential pursuers. Chase wasn’t sure that they’d been followed in the first place—or if they had, he didn’t think it was for long—but he understood the reasoning. They were heading back to Wyvernlair, the Masked Phantoms’ main base. They couldn’t risk the King or any of his warriors knowing where that was.

Once they were sure nobody knew where they’d gone, the group shifted direction, heading west instead of south. Chase had been confused about that, at first. They were mainly using the river as transportation. Wouldn’t it be hard to find a stream that headed in the direction they wanted? But that wasn’t the case. As it turned out, the defining characteristic of marshlands like the Moors was, in fact, still water, making it very easy to navigate. Who knew? Certainly not Chase; he’d never been in a marsh before this.

But as it turned out, Marvin had spent a lot of time in the Southern Moors. Chase had been surprised by that. He didn’t really seem the type. Though, maybe that was generalizing. Wizards had always seemed like they’d spend their time sitting in palace towers, reading books and practicing spells while wearing fine robes and jewelry. Chase had never pictured one spending time in swampy marshes.

He wanted to ask Marvin what he’d been doing in the Moors. He wanted to ask Marvin a lot of questions. After hearing so much about him from Henrik and Jackie, he was endlessly curious about the man himself. But...well, Marvin was kind of intimidating. There was an atmosphere about him. He often sat alone, going out of his way to find the place on the small boat that was as far away from other people as possible. And he didn’t talk to anyone there. Besides Henrik, really. When anyone got close, he would stare at them intently. Did he want to be left alone? If that was the case, Chase didn’t want to intrude.

It was a similar case with the other man, Jameson. He also spent a lot of time by himself. And while his silence wasn’t a choice like Marvin’s, he still didn’t engage in most attempts at conversation. He just...sat there.

But Jameson was different. It was clear to Chase that he was so solitary because he was scared. Of a lot of things. The Phantoms themselves were only one factor. Given what little Jameson had said during their talk some time ago, he was probably more scared of the King somehow finding out what he was doing.

By now, Chase was starting to get tired of being stuck on the boat with eighteen other people. There was only so long he could stare at the passing trees and muddy riverbank. And, honestly, he was really feeling sorry for Jameson. He’d been quite literally dragged into this. It wasn’t his fault. If anything, it was Chase’s. So, one uneventful morning, Chase wandered over to where Jameson was leaning on the side of the boat, stopping next to him. His approach had not gone unnoticed, of course. Jameson watched him intently, eyes wide, as he got close. “Um...hi,” Chase said awkwardly. “Do you mind if I...stand here?”

Jameson stared at him for a moment more. Then he looked away, turning his attention to the uneventful riverbank.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Chase muttered. He leaned on the side of the boat as well, on Jameson’s right, mimicking his posture. It helped to take weight off his still-healing ankle. “Are you, uh...how are you doing?”

No answer. Jameson didn’t even turn to look at him.

“That probably means not good, huh?” Chase sighed. “I...again, I’m sorry about all this. I really didn’t mean to grab you. Or—well, I did, but I didn’t mean to take you with me after. But then there was that lightning spell and I panicked and thought you might get hit—I’ve already said all this, but i-it still stands.”

This time, Jameson glanced at him. A bit of improvement.

“It’s kind of boring out here, isn’t it?” Chase muttered. “It’s always boring in the winter, there are no animals out. I bet in the summer this place gets really loud with insects and birds.”

“It does.”

Chase yelped, spinning around to see Marvin standing right behind him. “Mar—I-I-I—what—ho-how long have you been there?”

“Not that long.” Marvin shrugged. He wasn’t looking at Chase. His eyes were fixed on Jameson, who was looking at him in turn, pale and nervous. 

“Uh...w-well, uh...” Chase stammered. “You can’t just jump in like that. I didn’t know you were there, you scared me.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” After a moment of silent staring, Marvin moved, joining the other two in leaning against the railing. At first, he started to move to Jameson’s other side, but then hesitated, and ended up on Chase’s right. Jameson kept looking at Marvin, staring around Chase to keep his eyes on him. 

Chase glanced between them uncomfortably. He didn’t want to be in the middle of these two. The tension was almost a physical thing. “I’ll just...go, then,” he said, starting to shift position.

“No, please, stay,” Marvin hurried to say. “You don’t have to go.”

“I—I do, actually, I have to...uhhh...” All possible excuses had suddenly fled from Chase’s mind.

“It’s all alright,” Marvin said. “I’m the one who interrupted things, if anything, I should go.”

“No, you don’t have to—”

“Alright, we’ll both stay, then.” Marvin spoke as if that settled the matter.

Awkwardly, Chase leaned back onto the side of the boat. Jameson glanced at him, but didn’t respond in any way.

“You were talking about the birds?” Marvin asked. “Do you...like birds?”

“Uh, not particularly,” Chase said haltingly. “I just mentioned them because it always gets quiet in the winter when they fly south.”

“Wait, that’s where they go in winter?” Marvin sounded genuinely surprised.

“You didn’t know?” Chase blinked. “Haven’t you ever noticed them flying in those pointed formations? In the fall and spring? They head south for the former, then return to the north.”

“I did. I suppose I didn’t put the puzzle together,” Marvin muttered. “I never really thought about where birds went when it got cold.”

“Huh. Well, I guess it’s not too important,” Chase said slowly. “Unless you’re a hunter. Or someone else who’d see more birds in their life.” He hesitated. Maybe this was an opportunity to ask that question? “Though...you told everyone earlier that you’d been spending time here in the Moors. Did you not need to think about it?”

Marvin shook his head. “I could buy food easily enough. People here spend a lot of time fishing, there’s always an excess. I’ve never needed to hunt, and to be honest, I’ve never been fond of it as a sport, either.”

“Well...to each their own.” Chase paused again. “Why...why were you in the Moors, anyway? Was there...something important here?”

“No,” Marvin said quietly. “It’s just that...the Moors have a reputation for being...unrulable. The royals never put too much effort into enforcing their laws deep in the Moors, because the people here never listen. In fact, they actively fight against any attempts to tell them what to do.” A small smile flitted across his face. “It’s admirable, actually. And because there’s not much effort to check up on them, it’s an ideal place to hide from the crown.” The smile faded. “Though even that is changing. I’ve been starting to hear the King’s praises even here.”

Movement. Chase glanced to his left, and saw Jameson stand up straight and leave. He wanted to call out to him, but the words got caught in his throat.

Marvin stood up straight as well. He almost looked like he was about to follow Jameson, but didn’t move. His eyes followed him to the stern of the boat, where he sat down.

“Um...” Chase cleared his throat. “He-Henrik told me about how you two...knew each other.”

Immediately, Marvin snapped back to Chase. “He did?!”

Chase shrank back. “Was he—was he not supposed to?”

“I—I didn’t tell him to keep it a secret, but—but that doesn’t mean—” Marvin made a frustrated growl. “I-I’ll talk to him about it. Later. What was your point?”

“I...” Chase cleared his throat. “I was just going to ask...what your feelings on Jameson were.”

“I...I don’t know.” Marvin sounded lost at first, but then he went on the defensive, adding, “Why do you care? What do you mean by this?”

Chase raised his hands. “Nothing, I promise. I just—well, if you want to be friends with him, staring at him isn’t going to do much to help that. There’s no action being taken. And besides that, most people don’t like to be stared at.”

In response to that, Marvin decided to stare at Chase. For a few silent moments. Then, without saying a word, he turned around and left, heading towards the bow of the boat.

“Good talk,” Chase muttered, turning to look out at the river. This entire exchange had been strange, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About a week after the rescue, Yuko announced that she would be leaving the rest of the group. She had not been a part of the Phantoms who’d come from Wyvernlair, and was heading southeast to meet up with her own group of Phantoms, who she referred to as “her crew.”

“I have already sent Mokin ahead to tell the others of our success,” she said, referring to her messenger bird. “He will deliver the message, then return to the crew’s location to meet with me again. So do not worry.” She smiled a bit. “I will see some of you again, I’m sure.”

The group wished her luck. Even though they hadn’t spoken that much, Chase gave her his own farewells. From here, she would take the boat, while the rest of the group returned to walking on foot. Hopefully they would find some horses to ride part of the way.

Before Yuko left, Henrik pulled her aside for a private conversation. Unfortunately, Chase was fairly close by, counting the arrows in his quiver and making sure he hadn’t lost any on the journey down the river. He could hear them fairly well.

“Do you mind giving this to Vsevna?” Henrik whispered, sounding uncharacteristically embarrassed. He handed Yuko a folded up and sealed piece of parchment. “Is just—he sent me a message, a-and I would like to reply—”

“I’ll give him your love letter, do not worry,” Yuko said jokingly.

“It is not a—!” Henrik took a deep breath. “I-I just would like to reply. Yes? Nothing about that.”

“You know he likes you,” Yuko said bluntly.

“No, n-no, you do not know that,” Henrik stuttered. “Not for sure.”

“Trust me, I do. The whole crew does.”

“N-no, you cannot know. I—perhaps you just think—I mean, if he did that would be...but you don’t know!” Henrik shoved the message at her. “Just—can you give it to him?”

Yuko paused, then took it, nodding silently.”You should not worry so much,” she said quietly. “And you should tell him directly.”

Henrik hesitated. “Perhaps...perhaps next time I see him,” he muttered. “Now. Safe traveling.”

“Safe traveling.”

And with that, Yuko left, heading towards the boat. Henrik sighed. It was only then that he noticed Chase nearby. “You—!” His face reddened. “What did you hear?”

“Um...pretty much everything,” Chase admitted. “I didn’t mean to, though. I was just standing here.”

“Should have gone farther,” Henrik muttered, cursing under his breath in Alterdan. “Chase, listen to me. You hear nothing, yes?”

“I hear nothing,” Chase agreed, turning his attention to strapping his quiver around his waist. “...Yuko’s right, though.”

“Shut your word-hole, Chase.”

Chase laughed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The journey back to Wyvernlair was much the same as the journey southward, though in reverse. After a few days of getting out of the Moors, the ground becoming less wet and more frozen as the trees spread farther apart, they spent most of their time in the foothills. The Dragon’s Teeth mountains went all the way from the north of Glasúil to the very south, and so did the foothills that hugged their base. It was simply a matter of reaching the point where the ground started to slope, then heading north.

Along the way, they occasionally stopped by a town to pick up supplies. Once again, Chase never went into the towns proper, merely staying out on the edge and looking at the distant buildings. Eventually, they purchased horses, which proved a much better experience now that Chase was somewhat familiar with how to ride them. Though, they would of course have to eventually sell them again, as the terrain of the mountains grew too difficult for them. But for now, the horses allowed them to cover more ground quickly.

As they approached their destination, Chase couldn’t help but notice Jameson becoming increasingly more agitated. It wasn’t much, really, just fidgeting and glancing around. But it was noticeable. And not just to Chase. Henrik and some of the others often reminded Jameson that he didn’t have to stay with them. He could leave if he wanted. But Jameson shook his head after every offer.

Lukas pointed out that it might not be a good idea to let Jameson just leave. “We know the King wants him, what if he learns about us from him?”

To which Henrik responded, “Learns what? That we rescued Marvin? Oh, big surprise, is not like he already knew that. And we have not been using our names, have we? We have not said anything important around Jameson, have we? No. We are not keeping him here if he does not want it.”

And Lukas had merely nodded. “I wasn’t saying we should. I was just pointing out a possible problem.”

Henrik sighed. “It is a good point. But I think in this case, the right thing outweighs the risk.”

Still, even if Jameson apparently didn’t want to leave the group of Phantoms, that agitation remained. And it grew as their journey went on. Eventually, Chase couldn’t stand it any longer. He hadn’t spoken to Jameson after that conversation on the boat that Marvin had interrupted. He wasn’t really sure why. Perhaps he was just avoiding the potential awkwardness of being interrupted again. But that didn’t matter. He had to be sure everything was okay.

So, while traveling one day, Chase pulled back to the rear end of the group, guiding his horse to walk alongside the one Jameson was riding. “Hey,” he said softly. “How are you doing?”

Jameson glanced at him. Then turned and faced forward again.

“You just seem...nervous,” Chase said. “I noticed you keep playing with your, uh, neck bow...thing. Unless that’s not nerves. My daughter used to bite the edges of her sleeves when she got excited, until we explained that was wearing down her clothes. My wife gave her some scraps from clothes she’d outgrown to chew on. That worked.” He chuckled a bit, but then returned to a more serious tone. “But...I don’t think that’s the case here. I just want to know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

And Jameson looked at him. More than a glance this time. He seemed like he was trying to decide something. After a while, he sighed, and made a gesture like he was writing on something.

“It needs writing down? Okay.” Jameson must want to say something more complicated, something that couldn’t be conveyed with simple expressions and gestures. But there was a problem. “Um...Yu—Red Fox took all the writing supplies with her when she went her own way. They were her personal items.”

Jameson’s shoulders slumped, disappointed. He looked away.

“Hey,” Chase said. “Maybe...maybe I could teach you how to speak in hands?”

That caught Jameson’s attention, as he turned back to face him.

“That way you can tell us things without needing parchment,” Chase said. “And honestly, my reading isn’t that good. I’m much better at speaking in hands. So...if you want...I could try? I’m not sure how good I’ll be, but...better than nothing.”

A few moments passed. Then, slowly, Jameson nodded.

“R-really?” Chase hadn’t been expecting that. “Uh—okay, then. We can start when we stop for the night, is that alright with you?”

Jameson nodded. His expression was strangely...hopeful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chase knew he wasn’t as good a teacher as Henrik. He stammered over his words. His explanations were too vague. And a thousand other things went wrong. Nonetheless, as the days passed and they headed north, Jameson started to catch on. They started that first night with the hand alphabet, using their fingers to spell out words. After that came gestures that stood for the whole word—or even entire simple phrases. To help practice, Chase often rode next to Jameson so the two of them could try to speak entirely in hands. The rest of the group eventually noticed. Chase feared they would stop him, but nobody did. Henrik even gave him some encouraging words every time the two of them talked.

And Marvin...Marvin kept staring. Blatantly. But luckily, Chase and Jameson were too distracted to be bothered.

Jameson was a quick learner. He soon started to develop his own ‘voice’ in how he added flair to the hand-speak gestures. Still, by the time a week passed, he hadn’t yet managed to hold a conversation.

“I’m asking ‘what,’ not ‘why,’” Chase explained. “‘Why are you doing’ doesn’t really make sense.”

Jameson nodded, repeating the gestures for what are you doing? to himself. That was something Chase remembered from his own learning: speaking in hands was a lot easier than listening in hands.

“Still, the rest of it was great,” Chase said, giving Jameson a smile that he hoped was both cheerful and patient. “You’re really good at this. I bet you’ll be...what’s the word? Fluent? Yeah, I bet you’ll be fluent soon.”

At that, Jameson smiled in turn, looking proud. But after a moment, that smile faded. He looked down at the ground, noticing how it had become steeper and rockier under their horses’ hooves. Deer, he said, using Chase’s mask animal instead of his name. I can ask you thing?

“Can you ask me something? Sure, of course.”

Looking somewhat hesitant, Jameson continued. I not want—He shook his head—I should not see to where we go.

“Huh?” Chase’s brows furrowed in confusion. “You don’t want to see where we’re going? Why?” Jameson paused, a second of fear crossing his face. And immediately, Chase understood. “It’s because of the King, isn’t it? You think that if you know where we’re going and how to get there, that he’ll find out from you? He’ll find our hideout?”

Jameson nodded, oddly relieved that he didn’t have to say it.

“Well...” Chase chewed on his lip, thinking. “What do you want us to do?”

Blindfold, Jameson said, fingerspelling out the word.

“...I guess that would work,” Chase said slowly. He considered it for a moment. Henrik might take this moment to reassure Jameson there was no way the King could know what he saw. Marvin might insist it was impossible. But at this moment, that didn’t matter to Chase. What mattered was that Jameson thought it was possible. So, he nodded. “I mean, I’ll have to clear it up with Owl, and maybe the others, but I think we can do that. If you think it’ll help.”

Jameson’s shoulders slumped as he immediately let go of all the tension he’d been holding. Well, most of it. He still looked somewhat nervous. But significantly less so. Thank you, he said.

“It’s not a problem,” Chase assured him.

When they stopped to make camp later that night, Chase brought the matter to Henrik. As predicted, Henrik immediately started to point out how small the chance of the King knowing anything Jameson saw was. But Chase interrupted him, “Look, I get it. There’s probably no information the King could get from that—if he ever found out in the first place. But...Jameson thinks he could. And this’ll make him feel better about the whole thing.”

He expected more protesting, but instead, Henrik’s eyes flickered with...something. Something that caused him to immediately soften. “Alright. We can do this. But he cannot steer his horse while blindfolded.”

“I can guide it,” Chase said. “I mean, I won’t be able to keep teaching him hand-speak if he can’t see what I’m doing. So, I can do this, at least.”

Henrik smiled. “So it’s settled, then.”

But that wasn’t all. When they got up the next morning and saddled their horses for the day’s riding, Chase was surprised to see Henrik getting his horse ready next to Jameson’s. As it would turn out, he was going to join them for that day, riding alongside them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Only a couple days later, they left the horses behind, moving supplies from saddlebags to packs they could carry. The terrain was quickly becoming too difficult for most horses. Mountain ponies could go a bit farther into the Dragon’s Teeth, but Wyvernlair was located deep in the peaks, and even mountain ponies couldn’t travel those rocky slopes.

Sometimes, Chase wondered if people were meant to travel these slopes. Because as it would turn out, going up the mountains was much more difficult than going down. They covered less ground each day as said ground became steeper, and at the end of each day they were exhausted from the climb. Chase took some comfort in the fact that he was less exhausted than everyone else. This was his home ground, after all. He’d spent more time going up and down slopes than anyone else here.

The two people who were having the most trouble were Marvin and Jameson: the newcomers to the group. Not only had they spent less time in the mountains, but Jameson couldn’t even see where he was going. They’d given him a spare bit of cloth to cover his eyes with, and he had to rely on holding Chase’s arm for guidance and listening to directions from him and Henrik. Marvin, meanwhile, was surprisingly uncoordinated. Even on the relatively level stretches of ground he walked in an unusual, wandering zigzag pattern, and didn’t seem to be aware of the many small plants and rocks that threatened to trip him up. And they did, in fact. Several times. But nobody said anything about it because Marvin looked so frustrated every time it happened.

A few more days of climbing later, and the forest around them started to look familiar. 

As the sun started to set the next day, an unmistakable, snaking length of ivory came into view.

They’d finally found their way home.

Wyvernlair was as busy as ever. Phantoms, both in mask and uncovered, ran about their various tasks. But as the group came into view, that all slowed to a halt. Some stopped right where they stood and watched them approach. Silence fell.

The group closed the distance, picking up the pace a bit as they were eager to be back. The moment they crossed over the small length of bone that made up the very end of the dragon’s curled tail, the camp burst into cheers. Immediately, they found themselves swarmed by the other Phantoms. Holly picked Tripp right off the ground and squeezed him tight in sheer joy. Nemet started talking Henrik’s ear off the instant she was in range. A small group of Phantoms wearing masks with the cross symbol surrounded Lukas and Gwyn and started chanting “Archers! Archers! Archers!” Chase suspected they would have caught him up in that circle as well, if he didn’t have Jameson—a stranger—holding onto his arm.

But most of them had their attention fixed on one person: Marvin. They didn’t go up to him and start throwing their arms around him, but they were gathering around him nonetheless. Their voices were raised in joy. Some of them laughed, the sort of laughter that you only got when faced with the freedom of relief after seeing someone you know safe. Another chant started up. “Wizard! Wizard! Wizard!”

Marvin himself looked a little overwhelmed, but he was smiling as well. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting such a big welcome, but it was a happy surprise.

Then he glanced over the heads of the surrounding group and his smile faded as he caught sight of someone.

Chase and many others followed his gaze. It was...Jackie. His bright red cloak made him stand out even in this crowd. The hood was pulled up over his head, but he wasn’t wearing his wolf mask, which was instead hanging on a string around his neck. As he made his way through the crowd towards Marvin, the noise slowly died down. Everyone parted, allowing Jackie a clear path. Some left. Not all. By the time Jackie and Marvin were facing each other, they were surrounded by a circle of Phantoms. Watching. Waiting.

For a moment, neither Jackie or Marvin spoke. Then, Jackie cleared his throat. “So. You’re...back?”

Marvin nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you...going to stay?” Jackie asked awkwardly.

“I don’t know,” Marvin said, his voice carefully neutral.  “For a while, at least. I need a new focus.”

“And you can get one here?”

Marvin pointed at the skeleton around them. “Dragon bone. Magical.”

“Ah.” Jackie shifted his weight in a way that...almost looked like he was getting ready for a fight. But after another moment of silence, he just stepped back. “Well. I’ll...let you get settled.” He started to turn to leave.

“That’s it?” Marvin blurted out. “You’re not going to say anything?”

Jackie stiffened, and turned back around. “I thought you would prefer that.”

“No!” Marvin looked shocked. “Why would I prefer that? Sitting in silence, never talking about it? So, what? Do you not want to apologize?”

“Me?” Jackie said, surprised. “Are you saying you weren’t going to? Because if I recall, you made several jabs that were clearly meant to hurt me.”

“And you didn’t?!” Marvin asked. “See, Henrik and I talked already, and he had the grace to start out with remorse!”

Henrik started to say something, but Nemet, still standing next to him, put a hand on his arm. He took a deep breath, and said nothing...even though it looked like it pained him to stay quiet.

“Are you saying you’re not going to apologize?” Marvin continued. “Do you not care what you said?”

“I could say the same for you!” Jackie put his hands on his hips. “You show up and demand that I say sorry without offering anything first! Stubborn as ever, then? Still convinced you’re always right?”

“Don’t,” Marvin said warningly. “Don’t you dare head down that road again, we both know where it leads. And don’t tell me you’re not the same way.”

“Well why do I have to go first?” Jackie demanded. “If anything, you should apologize first!”

“Why, because I was wrong?” Jackie hesitated, and Marvin pressed forward, his expression darkening. “That’s it, isn’t it? Even after more than a year, you still think you have the high ground on me! I can’t believe a former warrior is so opposed to killing when it’s needed.”

“That’s a ridiculous leap, there!” Jackie laughed. “Do your legs hurt after that amazing feat of strength? You know how I feel about bloodshed, and how it’s best avoided if possible. Which, you know what? It can be avoided here! There are a thousand other ways to go about this!”

“Have you been on this mountain the whole time?!” Marvin shouted. “You haven’t seen what’s going on down there! These people idolize the damn King! More and more of them every day! That’s ridiculous! We’re some sort of villains to them, and that’s not going to stop whether we imprison the King or kill him, so we have to make sure he can never come back!”

“Elders, this is always it with you!” Jackie yelled. “You still don’t understand how people really work! I would have thought you’d take time to fix that!”

“I don’t need to be fixed!” Marvin practically screamed.

“No, but your behavior does! You’re still the same selfish bastard you always were!”

Something shifted, drawing Chase’s attention away from the increasing shouting match between the two. Jameson had taken off his blindfold earlier, but hadn’t let go of Chase’s arm. In fact, his grip was now tightening. It actually hurt a bit. Chase was about to ask him what was going on, but his question died in his throat when he turned to face him.

“Selfish?! I’m the only one willing to do anything for this kingdom!”

“Oh, yeah, you’ve done sooo much, giving up your fancy clothes and housing and wanting to kill a man. You don’t know what that means, for you or for anyone else!”

Marvin growled, and turned away from Jackie in anger. And when he did, he saw it. His fury melted away, replaced by fear and worry. “Jair?!” He gasped.

It was happening again. Like the morning after they’d rescued Marvin, Jameson had suddenly stiffened, all muscles tensing and tightening. He was trembling with the force of keeping them clenched. His eyes were lifted towards the sky as his mouth moved wordlessly. Chase pulled at his hand, gritting his teeth against the rising pain from Jameson’s unnaturally tight grip.

“Jair!” Marvin broke into a run. Murmurs swept through the gathered crowd, and just like Marvin, they headed to Jameson. “No! Stay back! Give him room!” Marvin swept his arms around, gesturing for everyone to back up. He stopped in front of Jameson, hands held in front of himself like he wanted to touch Jameson—maybe put them on his shoulders—but he was clearly unsure if he should. “Henrik!” he called, his head whipping back around. “Henrik, what’s happening?!”

Henrik rushed forward. “He is seizing!” he shouted. After a moment of hesitation, Jackie followed him, though he kept his distance from Jameson. “Chase, are you alright? He’s holding your—”

“H-h-he’s got a tight hold,” Chase said, his voice oddly choked. “It didn’t last this long before.”

“Before?!” Marvin cried, eyes snapping towards him.

“Yeah, I—I forgot until now,” Chase admitted. “This happened th-the day after we got you out. He was—I woke up and he was—tense. A-and trying to say something. Like this.”

Henrik skidded to a halt. Marvin edged out of the way so he could look at Jameson closer. “Trying...to say something?” Henrik muttered. His eyes glanced downward to Jameson’s throat, better exposed now that his head was tilted up. They landed on the scar. Then went back up to his mouth, still moving. Clarity dawned in his eyes. “We cannot do anything,” he said, stepping back. “We have to wait for it to end.”

“What?!” Marvin shouted. “We can’t just—he could be—be poisoned, or choking, o-or he might hurt himself—”

“It should not last much longer,” Henrik said. “If I am right, at least. You should get ready to catch him.”

“Catch—?”

As if on cue, Jameson suddenly collapsed, all the energy leaving him. Marvin darted forward to grab him, but Chase was closer, and caught him with the very same arm he’d been gripping so tightly a second before. “What?” Marvin choked out. “What’s going on?”

Henrik let out a breath of relief. He looked at Jameson, who was glancing around and regaining his bearings. Their eyes locked. Jameson took one look at the serious, knowing expression on Henrik’s face and started shaking. Not because of any seizing this time. No, it seemed the ever-present fear had reached its peak. He looked horrified...and deeply, deeply afraid. It was as if he was standing at the edge of a cliff with a fatal drop, and knew he was about to be pushed off.

“We go somewhere private,” Henrik muttered, glancing around at the Phantoms who were still watching and murmuring to themselves. “Not even the skull. Somewhere else. Chase, Marvin, Jameson? Follow me.” As he spun around to leave, he saw Jackie, still standing awkwardly nearby. “And you too, Jackie. This is important.”

Jackie nodded, and immediately followed Henrik. Marvin didn’t leave until Jameson was back on his feet, and even then he kept glancing over his shoulder. Chase took Jameson’s hand and led him after the others, while Jameson looked down at the ground and let himself be taken.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They ended up in Henrik’s tent. Chase had been here before, they’d had reading lessons outside it, but they never went inside. And Chase didn’t push. Even though it sometimes got quite cold outside and being in a tent would help a slight bit, he knew it would be rude to just ask without Henrik showing any sign of wanting him inside.

The tent was similar to Chase’s own. Except it was bigger, and much better kept than his. The bedroll and pillows were made, spare clothes were stacked in one corner in a small, neat pile, and all other possessions were tucked away to the sides, each looking as though it was perfectly in place. The only truly odd thing was a bundle of dried herbs with pale purple flowers, tied with a string and hanging from the ceiling. As all five of them crowded inside, they were all hit in the face with that bundle hanging near the entrance—except Henrik, who of course knew to duck.

“Everyone sit,” Henrik said, lowering himself to the ground and sitting on the bedroll.

They all did the same, slow and unsure. Chase couldn’t help but notice another difference between his tent and Henrik’s: there was a blue rug covering the canvas floor, tightly woven with an unfamiliar design. 

“What’s going on?” Marvin immediately demanded, looking very much like he wanted to stand up again and pace around the room. “What happened back there?”

Henrik made an irritated sound. “I was just about to explain that, actually.”

Marvin shrank back a bit. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I don’t really want to do this,” Henrik continued. “But Marvin, and Chase, I think you deserve an explanation. And Jackie, I think this is...significant. For our fight against the King.” He nodded at Jameson, who’d sat down next to Chase and was now trying to subtly hide behind him. “This is Jameson Jairsolas. He is, for some reason, important to the King. To the point where he had Chase in his sights, but let him go because Jameson was in the way.”

Jackie’s eyes widened. His head spun to look at Chase. “You saw—?!”

“Yes, I did,” Chase said tiredly. “I-I’ll tell you later. I want to know what’s going on first.”

“I think I figured out what’s so important about him,” Henrik continued.

“You know?” Marvin looked doubtful. “How? Because of what just happened? Also, shouldn’t we be giving Jair some medical atten—”

“He does not need it,” Henrik interrupted. “This is nothing to worry about. Well, I think it is, but not in the way you are thinking.” He looked directly at Jameson, whose face paled under his gaze. “Jameson,” he stated plainly. “You’re an oracle.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Jameson broke down and started to cry.

“Jair,” Marvin said softly. Unable to stand it anymore, he stood up, kneeling down again next to Jameson. After a moment of hesitation, he awkwardly put an arm around him. Instantly, Jameson turned and buried his face in Marvin’s shirt. A mix of surprise and relief crossed Marvin’s face. He then pulled Jameson closer, wrapping him in both arms.

Meanwhile, Chase and Jackie were stunned into silence. “How...how do you just know that?” Chase finally asked.

“I recognize the signs of a vision,” Henrik said, his voice a bit soft. “Chase, you do not know this, but there was a period of time when I thought I was an oracle. I did some research and realized visions did not match my symptoms, but I still know those signs. You remember this, right Jackie?”

Jackie nodded, recollection slowly dawning. He looked at Jameson, who refused to look at any of them and just pressed closer to Marvin. “You know...I sometimes think our fight is impossible,” Jackie said slowly. “There are times when...the King seems to anticipate what we’ll do next. Days when we lose a lot of good people to a trap when his warriors shouldn’t have even known we were in the area. I thought...I thought it was our fault, that we weren’t doing enough.” His voice cracked. “But...maybe it seemed like he knew what we were going to do...because he did. He knew it would happen. Or, not him, but—”

“Jair wouldn’t do that,” Marvin said fiercely. Jameson looked up at him, tears in his eyes, his expression surprised but thankful. “You—you have to be wrong, there has to be something else going on—”

“Marvin,” Henrik said quietly.

 Marvin’s shoulders slumped. He looked down at Jameson. Jameson nodded, the motion barely noticeable. “Damn it all,” he muttered. “Elders and Sisters damn it all. That’s why he kept you around, isn’t it? Even though the rest...were taken care of. He wanted to know the future. Damn it all. I...I’m so sorry.”

Jameson squeezed his eyes shut. His posture was tense, as if waiting for something to happen.

“But why take his voice?” Chase whispered.

The others turned to look at him. Even Jameson opened his eyes again. “What do you mean?” Jackie asked.

“The—the scars on his neck,” Chase said. “They’re right over where his voice should be. There was clearly some...some surgery or something, and that’s why he can’t speak out loud.But...I-I remember Tripp told me oracles were compelled to speak their visions. That’s probably why Jameson kept mouthing words during the seizing. But...”

“But if he cannot speak, nobody can hear the visions,” Henrik said, catching on. “That is unusual.”

“Especially if we work with the theory that the King kept him around for them,” Jackie muttered.

“There must have been some sort of medical reason,” Henrik speculated. “Something life-threatening. Injury or illness, that is possible.”

“We know the King, though,” Marvin said darkly. “Would he have kept a useless oracle around after that? Let an enemy get away because of that?” Nobody said anything. Jameson nodded again in grim agreement.

There was something else going on here. They could all feel it. And again, Chase had that idea. The one he thought was dumb at first.

Could the King be an enchanter? Could he really have the ability to look into others’ minds? It didn’t make sense. Magic-wielders showed their powers from young ages. And with someone as important as the King, the whole kingdom would have noticed if he had magic ages ago. No, it was impossible. Impossible. But...it would be easy to read a silent oracle’s mind. For an enchanter, it would be easy to see those visions himself.

“This isn’t important at the moment,” Jackie said. “You guys just came back, I want to hear everything that happened when you...when you rescued Marvin.” He deliberately didn’t look towards him as he said his name. “And...what...Jameson...?”

“Do you want to stay with us, Jameson?” Chase asked gently.

Jameson didn’t respond immediately. His eyes darted around, landing on each of their faces once, twice, three times. After a moment, he slowly nodded.

“Are you sure?” Henrik asked. “You do not have to. We can help you travel somewhere the King will never find.”

Jameson nodded again, his posture stiff and tense. Still afraid.

“Well, in that case, you’ll need a tent,” Jackie said. “We have a lot of spare—”

“He can use mine,” Marvin interrupted. “You do still have mine, right?”

“I...yes,” Jackie said slowly. “Are you also...going to stay there?”

Marvin hesitated. “If he’s fine with that.” He looked at Jameson. “Are...are you? Fine with that?”

Jameson didn’t respond. After a moment, he raised his hands, and said, I don’t know. “He doesn’t know,” Chase translated, remembering how Marvin didn’t speak in hands.

Marvin nodded. “Well...you can have it for now, and I’ll assume no until you tell me otherwise.”

Jameson glanced away, eyes darting around at the others once again. I’m sorry, he said. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. He continued to repeat the gesture, tears rising in his eyes again.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” Chase said softly. “It’s alright.”

But even after that reassurance, Jameson continued to say I’m sorry. Up until the moment they all left the tent and went their separate ways, when he followed Marvin and Henrik to the storage to look for the tent. Jackie hesitated, wanting to go with them, but ultimately deciding to head off.

And Chase...just stood there. Simply uncertain about what the future would hold.

[imaginarypasta]

Hi! I recently read your vampire au and I loved it! If it’s not too much trouble, could you tell me a bit more of the lore? Like what the significance of Diluc's star is and why Kaeya has one but wanted it enough to consider taking it from Diluc, why Diluc would be invisible on church grounds, did Diluc ever know Crepus was a vampire before The Incident, and why Kaeya keeps his hunter eye covered?

hell yes i can!! i would love to! thank you for asking! i am really glad you liked the au, it was *so* fun to write ⭐⭐

> the significance of the star

the star itself was added for a few reasons. i'm so obsessed with it in canon and with the potential implications of diluc wearing it but since we don’t know what it is exactly or why he wears it, i feel iffy about including in a non-au fic. also, because it’s a no vision au (just bc i have trouble mixing magic systems), i opted to get rid of delusions as well, but wanted to keep that aspect of a physical item changing hands.

the final reason also ties to its function and it is that a large source of inspiration for that fic is phantom blood. while i was still deciding on how exactly do write my fic, i was in part thinking of it as an au that was just the beginning of phantom blood—which for reference has a character become a vampire by putting on this mask that makes people vampires. the rest of it… in some ways i think could technically work for ragbros, if you changed pretty drastically all the emotional ties (which i would argue are the heart). the key thing is the physical item that turned someone into a vampire, which worked really well for keeping that aspect from before. also, i was still deciding if crepus was already a vampire or if he was gonna have them all do it together or something.

when it came to writing the fic, i changed my mind on this. i’m not quite sure i would say the star is a mandatory part of the process in that it does the turning, or at least part—if only because i dislike that and prefer it to just be between two people. instead, i started to think of it as a ceremonial piece of the process.

i personally like vampires turning people by drinking their blood and then having the person drink the vampire’s blood back, so the star could work to like do the cutting. in one direction, it’s practical bc the human person wouldn’t have fangs, and in the other, it’s entirely ceremonial (or also practical if the vampires don’t have fangs ig). it would work just as well with a knife or other sharp object or really just going in with the teeth!

then that way it also ties khaenri’ah into the vampiric lore—whether that’s bc they invented it in some quest for immortality or whatever, or bc they happened upon it very unfortunately, or some other reason, is totally up to you, though! i personally like they found it (and developed this process that added a physical trinket) and just happened to be unlucky but that’s just me!

> kaeya’s relationship to the star

because kaeya would have grown up in an environment that would be at least semi-saturated with vampires (or at least lore about them/a peripheral awareness of them. i’m not sure how much he directly watched or if it was mostly secondary effects that he saw. i don’t mind either way, to be entirely honest), i imagine he is familiar with the star ceremony (or its practical effect, if you prefer that!). but i also imagined teyvat as very… like maybe vampires exist in the folklore, but even if they do, i don’t think people are really dealing with them. like i didn’t really end up touching on it bc i didn’t want to be so forceful with it, but i’m a big fan of secret vampires versus everyone knows about vampires. but also that was basically irrelevant to this fic so popular view of vampires was not technically mentioned i think.

so when kaeya sees that star and knows what it does but also that crepus probably didn’t get it anywhere in teyvat, he assumes he brought it somehow—since he didn’t actually bring one with him (or at least not one they knew about; i.e., one he still has), he assumes it came in with him on accident. now whether he thinks it was literally stuck to something on his person or is more vaguely referring to accident, meh! maybe someone sent it with him and he didn’t know or… another explanation that i can’t think of, but suffice to say—if he is the only khaenri’ahn they know of, it only makes sense to him that crepus got it from him.

i’m not sure if what diluc says about it being from the fatui is true. totally up to you! generally speaking, i love making many lines maybe-lies and this is very much one where i had that in mind.

as for why he wants to take it from diluc… there are a few reasons. chief of which is that i do think both of them know very well (whether b/c he told them or they just assume correctly) that crepus wanted to take him with them (i.e., make them both vampires). probably when they got older so they could choose as adults, but he loved his sons and wanted them all to be together forever. even when he died, in my head, he still wanted diluc to do that for kaeya so they could be together and i do think diluc has at least offered.

and kaeya is ofc cognizant of that now, but he’s at a crossroads in terms of how he feels about it (or maybe he’s pretty decided, but a potential for a crossroads is there). because on the one hand, he totally wants to be with his brother, but on the other, he has a very implicit fear and distrust of vampires that was ingrained in him at a very young age (and not without good reason!). even if he can make an exception for diluc (and probably crepus), i’m not sure he could do that for anyone else, much less choose to take that on. he wants to do it in the sense that he wants to be with diluc and he wants to honor crepus’ wishes, but it goes against everything he believes.

this question came about yes because of kaeya’s crossroads in actual canon, but also because i’ve always been kinda curious about how death works in the game. not that i’ve done a whole bunch of research on it or even gone through to see what i’ve forgotten (and i totally should at some point, just wanted to mention before i get into this that i am probably totally missing stuff), and i know we meet ghosts in liyue and have hu tao’s whole story quest, but also it seems kinda... uncertain i guess? maybe unspecified. (which is i would say generally characteristic of how we get info in game which overall i actually really like.) like are these region-specific the way the regions’ relationships with their archon change? are they tied to the celestia-abyss thing? my impulse is to say no bc that doesn’t really seem like a thing celestia would have control over, but then we have immortal (or at least very old) khaenri’ahns which seems strange in regards to that. how would something like ascension (specifically the one vision holders can do) relate to this? especially if we consider the verticality of these relationships? to name just a few things that i will probably look up at some point, but the central question is if kaeya and crepus go to the same place if they die (assuming they go anywhere). and also how that relates to the theology & kaeya’s specific view of the theology as a khaenri’ahn. which again i have trouble addressing in non-au fics bc it’s so up in the air! so this was a way i could begin to ask that question, even if it’s not a perfect translation. like it changes to, would vampires go to the same place?, which is close enough for me. and then just how all of that affects his decision.

when i was brainstorming, i was also considering like that maybe he built up immunities, either to getting his blood drank or literally becoming a vampire. but i decided he already had plenty of reasons to not become a vampire that i liked better (personal disinterest, potential divine intervention, etc.) so i took it out. i think you can still see the echoes of that if you look but i hinted at new reasons for them. or at least gave them new reasons in my head that appeared on the page to various extents lmao.

in addition to that big one, i think there’s an element of wanting to test diluc (around blood, that is)—ironic considering what they discuss regarding his eye later, but him just wanting to check that diluc really is in control. what his motivations are in that, though... i struggle to say for certain too many good reasons. also i think a part of him does just want to get diluc in a situation where he's forced to listen and kaeya can tell him how he was hurt, not only physically but also by him kind-of (mostly) leaving. although i'm not sure if i can actually see him going through with that ;-; finally, there is maybe an element of taking it back, literally. if he feels guilty about it, he can physically acquire it from diluc, so that he can end it as much as he can alone.

and what i said about diluc keeping it from him but also offering it to him at an earlier point—i think that ties to how diluc didn’t exactly get a choice in the matter but also that he knows kaeya is iffy leaning no about it. also, his mind totally changed. not that i think he wants to leave kaeya in this sense, but he has come to recognize that it is unlikely kaeya could ever be fully okay with it.

> church grounds

ah see originally i had a line about this but it sort of didn’t fit anywhere nicely so i removed it! essentially it comes from normal stuff for vampires not working w religious iconography/spaces, which works really well here bc ofc mondstadt uses a lot of christian symbols and stuff and that seems pretty typical for vampires (at least vampires i’ve seen). basically, the church grounds were blessed so he can’t step on them, but the pathway was added later and they just never blessed it so he can walk on it fine. without this kinda convoluted explanation i didn’t touch on in the fic, idk maybe just the graves themselves are blessed. like, it’s very silly but just there being an invisible wall he cannot cross (and kaeya using that to his advantage) was a very fun visual while i was writing. as for kaeya letting him in, whether it is the vampire invitation rule or bc the gate was also blessed is up to you! or maybe they just do it to have an excuse to hang out when diluc comes to town.

> if diluc knew

gahhh im so indecisive about this, and about the same for kaeya. whatever you prefer, honestly! any combination of them knowing/not knowing is interesting to me. same for if/when kaeya might have learned it (like for what i said about teyvat not really having vampires, i do think it’s SO fun that it’s this huge but probably welcome change for kaeya. but then he just very suddenly learns that actually no it’s not and not only that but they were under his nose the whole time. but on the flip side, i love what his knowledge would mean for his relationship with crepus, who he very much does love; it would be so complicated which i adore)

ultimately for diluc, i don’t think so. at least to me! if only so that he doesn’t have full answers when he deals with all the effects later and doesn’t exactly know what to do with this new stuff. i like him having to kind of figure it out on his own (especially if kaeya might have some answers even) and maybe even hurt someone he loves (worst possible thing for him specifically) to realize it. but i would just as soon argue yes he did know; that’s just what i’m feeling at this point in time.

but like if yes, then there's the element of keeping it from kaeya (which like... ouch) but then also kaeya does know already, at least about vampires if not the ragnvindrs as vampires, and he has to deal with that surprise. it places their childhood in this weird place where not only was crepus keeping secrets from them and kaeya was keeping secrets from them (both standard), but diluc was as well. and idk—it's very different from canon but i would be really interested in that change! and i could just as easily say crepus never explained it if i want to keep that figuring it out on his own thing. the only thing i would want to think about more (that comes to mind as i'm writing this) is how and why crepus would only tell diluc (like *i* think he would want both of them to go with him, but maybe he didn't. or maybe he recognized that kaeya wouldn't want to. or something like that). but also that's... kinda what he does with the delusion anyway (even if i think he only gets a second to mention it, he seems to have been thinking it would've been longer) so i'm not worried it doesn't make sense or anything like that.

at the very least, i don’t think either knew the full extent or situation, and i’m not sure either do even in the present. and the way that conversation changes based on which of them knew in any combo… hehehe

> kaeya’s eye!!

hehe!! ok i love his eye. one of my very first headcanons about him ever was that the pirate thing was, at least in part, legitimate. that has changed form somewhat, but the most notable way that it manifested was that he (and many khaenri’ahns, although technically we only had visuals of dain at this point) wears the eyepatch for the same reason pirates/pilots sometimes do (or are said to do). basically, to help them see better in low light. right now i typically prefer like loyalty or something but i do think this practical reason is… kinda fun? also i like thinking of khaenri’ah in-game as visually dark so it does rely on that. but it worked really well for this fic!

so assuming that vampires get good dark vision, training their eyes to do that would allow any vampire hunters/non-vampires who might be in danger to remove that advantage that the vampires have in that specific aspect. maybe it wouldn’t work if the au khaenri’ah was dark but honestly i wasn’t worried about making it a perfect match so much as i was about including this hc lol. specifics aside, i was really glad i got to mention it because i’ve hinted at it in my fics before but i’m also really indecisive about it (esp when i assumed we would learn more about it... and we did) and i like multiple other reasons which is why i don’t really refer to it so explicitly.

which is why he takes it off in his initial confrontation of diluc—he supposes he needs the advantage. or maybe he just wants to let diluc know that he knows because he now has to deal with this being the reality for his brother but also he has like... if not an outright duty then at least a built-in aversion. (bc i don't actually know if it's something that was expected of him. maybe he was sent to mondstadt for that reason, maybe even more specifically to deal with crepus, whether he knew that or not. but also like… maybe there were other reasons he was sent away. in this case, i might prefer that, but i go back and forth.)

but in the present scene, he doesn’t need to because he’s not planning to fight diluc at all or have a practical reason to take it off. which like, i don't think he's wearing it during the day and taking it off at night so much as he is only taking it off when he needs to. you could blame this on habit or tying it back to that loyalty reason or bc of the scar or something else.

diluc… i think interprets this behavior differently or at least interestingly as he is worried about how casually kaeya is treating it bc he’s so guilty about it. not that i think he's wrong to do this because even canon kaeya seems to be strangely chill about it imo. also, maybe he in part thinks kaeya wearing the eyepatch is him being closed off and wanting to at least partially cut ties.