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closer-stars · 4 years ago

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Gut Feeling (5)

Member: San Genre: Angst, just Stress Word Count: 9k Content: Food. Realizations. Frustrations. Just a lot bro Note: idk i like slow burn and just this type of idea leaves a lot of space to make shit feel frustrating and powerless if that makes sense. i’ll update the links after 24 hours. this has been proof-read but will continue to do so later on wahu. happy new year yall Tag list: @barsformars @hwaberrykiwi @yeotlny @miniyeo @shinyddeonghwa @seoultraveller

Part 4

“Choi San!”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Then stop acting like a child!”

“Stop treating me like one then!”

The rest of the boys didn’t expect the outburst (except for roughly two of them), pairs of eyes darted from you and to the male. They’ve never seen you snap like this, not even when they were being pains in the ass for you, not even when Yeosang’s sharp tongue got the better of him, hell even if other staff members were being an asshole to you. They’ve seen San snap but not to the level where he answers back to those who they speak with respect. Both of you stand there, unmoving, jaws clenched and stiff, waiting for the other to make a move. Your eyes are hard to read, rocky maybe, as if you had immediately put up a wall before anyone could make sense of your emotions. The only thing that can be seen was your exhaustion.

The boys wondered how much of your own struggles did you keep from them about this.

San on the other hand, had eyes that light up with flames. He’s been sure of his feelings ever since he could remember. Admittedly, he fell for you somewhere along the way, he couldn’t pinpoint where but he did. He knows you’ve been harboring feelings for him too and for you to deny it had brought him so much frustration. It was a relief their current promotions are much more powerful otherwise, he would’ve lashed out from anger. The way you talked to him previously had been brewing in his mind.

You’re the first one to make a move: you break eye contact and heave a sigh. “I’m going to get air. Hongjoong, you know what to do.” Your voice hangs clear in the heavy air, Hongjoong’s firm acknowledgement lets you leave smoothly. With a flick of your wrist, you toss the remote of the sound system to him on your way out. The only thing that could be heard from the room were your footsteps and the door closing behind you.

[You to Manager Yoon] Manager Yoon! Where are you?

[Manager Yoon to You ] Still in the office, why?

You pause for a moment, trying to think of an excuse. Just for once, you want to be selfish.

[You to Manager Yoon] Can you be the one to bring the boys home? I have a migraine. Not a good idea to be behind the wheel.

[Manager Yoon] Who’s going to bring you home?

[You] I’ll get a taxi. Please? The boys will be finished within an hour.

[Manager Yoon] Alright! Stay safe and take care of yourself.

[You] Yes, thank you.

It doesn’t take longer than five minutes for a taxi to arrive outside the building. You slip inside and the driver’s back on the road to bring you back to your apartment. You don’t realize how long you’ve been holding your breath until you settle into your seat.

“Long day?” The driver says, his aged voice bringing you out of your thoughts for a moment. Surprisingly, you still had enough energy to keep it light.

“Yes, can’t wait to get some rest.” You return, there’s an evident strain in your voice and it makes him chuckle.

“Life really is tough in your twenties to thirties isn’t it? Everything’s confusing, constant distractions, constant questions.” He sounded like a grandfather that needs some company so you entertain his thoughts.

“Yes, a lot of things are happening and so many people expect us to know everything at this age.” You rest your head against the window, watching as people rush about to release the week’s stress.

“It’s good you’re taking the time to rest tonight. Drinking and clubbing can only do so much, kiddo.” The driver chortles, and it seems he’s reminiscing his younger days. This causes you to chuckle softly, letting him talk as much as his heart wants. It was a good distraction from how your life has been in disarray.

Considering it was a friday night, the traffic was enough to be noticed. You don’t have the heart to put on your headphones to drown out everything for the sake of the old man. As you head home, the conversation spins towards your work.

“A manager for an idol group? That isn’t easy, no? My granddaughter’s been a big fan of that one group, they did that black cat song recently.. Uh what was their name..” He grumbles, frustrated at his poor memory.

“ATEEZ?” You pipe in carefully, heart warming slightly at how well your boys have done.

“Is that their name? I think so, it is familiar. They seem like good boys too. She really likes that San guy too.”

“They are.” You agree, your chest feeling a mix of ease and discomfort. Nevertheless, the general public was falling for the boys and you couldn’t help but feel pride in that. You try to disregard the comment about San, finding it to be life being an asshole to you. The taxi rolls up to the entrance of your apartment complex and you thank the man for his help. “Please have this too, you’ve worked a lot too.” You say as you hand him your payment. He’s surprised with the small bag of snacks you’ve been carrying this entire time that you handed to him with your payment. You bid him goodbye, carefully walking into the safety of your apartment complex.

-------

Your body feels lighter after the shower and you look through your laptop for the files that have been nagging your mind. Mumbles of the files you’re looking for spill through your mouth as you glare at your laptop screen. The only thing that could be heard in your room is the sound of your fingers over the keyboard, ever since becoming a manager for such a loud group, you’ve come to appreciate the silence.

“There we go.”

Once the files are open, you look through your application, looking for a certain portion as your interview plays in the back of your head. From there, you type your letter to the superiors. It takes a few tries until you’re satisfied with it. For now, you’ll sleep on it, thinking if you should push through with this change or hold on until Manager Hwang comes back. At least, the letter has helped you clear your head on things that weren’t related to San.

As you lean against your seat, you let soft music play as you try to figure out your feelings. Your stomach grumbles. After everything that happened, you forgot that you have yet to have your dinner. The boys have but you forgot to eat earlier. Not wanting to change clothes again, you opt for delivery.

Was the universe laughing at you for your clashing feelings and thoughts? Your playlist plays songs that were unfortunately fitting for your situation.

You’re still on the fence over your feelings for him. You have come to appreciate his presence in your life, in and outside of work but you were against putting romance where your work lies, that’s one of your rules. Especially when it comes to harboring feelings for the idol, that was a line you didn’t want to cross. You know how fans can be, and while fan attitudes can differ from person to person, people who liked the same artist seem to eventually carry the same attitudes. You didn’t know much about their fans, especially in this situation where fans couldn’t watch them perform in person. Some of them seem to be sweethearts, some less than stellar people. If you were honest with yourself, You didn’t want to give in to San or to yourself merely because of how fans can be when they realize their idols are dating. Heck, their friend resigned to save their group’s face. You didn’t want San to go through that.

You were never a fan of the boyfriend or girlfriend image idols had to put on themselves.

A series of katalks and knocking brings you out of your thoughts once more and you decide to attend to the knocking first once you smell the food wafting in.

Hands full of the food you order for yourself for the night, you stop the music and decide to let your Netflix be your white noise as you eat and look through your messages.

[Hongjoong to Group Chat] Manager-nim! What’s our call time tomorrow?

[Seonghwa] Hongjoong and I talked to San once we got back to the dorms. Manager Yoon doesn't know about it?

[Yunho to Group Chat] I thought it was you who was going to bring us home… teary_eyed_frodo

[San] I’m sorry

You didn’t think he would send you a message so soon.

Cheeks stuffed with noodles, you reply thoroughly to each of them.

[You to Group chat] Wake up by 5AM, i’ll pick you up 6AM. 7AM for hair and make up, breakfast in the salon, 10AM to 6PM schedule. 7PM onwards studio/training or whatever you guys want to do.

[You to Seonghwa] Oh okay, let’s talk about that tomorrow? Yes, Manager Yoon doesn’t know anything about it.

[You to Group chat] Ah sorry, I ended up with a migraine ^^;;

[You to Group chat] Aw, haha! I’ll do my best!

You continue to eat, until your stomach is stuffed and you need to take a breather. It’s been awhile since you let yourself eat your comfort food without a care.

The unread notification nags at you as you eat, even if you try to eat in peace. The thoughts start to run a mile a minute again and it makes your chest tighten up again. You push yourself up again and look through your refrigerator for some drink. Anything to ease your anxious thoughts from making it hard for you to breathe again. Not replying to him even on chat seemed a little cold even for you.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

Why were Kakaotalk notifications so aggressive on vibrate? Another mouthful of noodles and spicy dumplings.

[Mingi to Group chat] Are you okay now?

[Jongho to Group chat] Sleep early, Manager-nim.. We have a long day tomorrow.

[Yeosang to Group chat] Make sure to eat too!!

You felt bad for telling them a white lie but you needed to get out of that building. You send them a heart to acknowledge their messages for their peace. Once you’ve finished your meal, you freshen yourself up for bed, making sure your alarm was on for the following day.

--------

On the other side of the line, the boys are in their dorms now. All of them in their sleep wear but in the living room to talk about things that need to be discussed. “San, you need to explain everything.” Seonghwa speaks up softly. Hongjoong sits on the corner of the couch, he’s not looking at anyone as he tries to make sense and do damage control as much as possible.

The younger member looks at everyone, then at Hongjoong and Seonghwa, fearing that they’d be angry for various reasons. In hindsight, he should’ve just talked about it with either of them but his pride got in the way. The weight of keeping everything in slides off his back with a dejected sigh. He tells them everything, starting from when he found your antics adorable, to you going out of your way to take care of them even beyond your line of work. The boys really can’t blame him, they did sacrifice a part of their lives for their dreams. It’s natural to have a want to experience something as normal as falling in love, even if it’s a little misguided. He includes the part where he assumes that you and Seonghwa were a thing. This results in six heads turning from San to Seonghwa in less than a heartbeat.

“Time out, time out.” Seonghwa says, after regaining his composure from such a curveball. “This entire time, you thought we were a thing?” He asks, eyes wide with confusion. The older won’t admit that he’s amused by the misconception but he is alarmed that it has reached such heights.

The question has San straightening his back in confusion. “Yeah, the two of you are always together, more than anyone else. Also they’re more talkative with you… they just look more comfortable with you than me..” He tries to explain but the more he goes on the more he realizes how stupid he sounds.

Stunned silence falls over the eight of them, Hongjoong still thinking on how to approach this. Wooyoung sits back against the backrest of the couch, his head resting against the palm of his hand. “So this is the extent of how jealousy affects him.” Cue, two hands flicking his shoulders. “Ow!” The attention shifts back to Hongjoong when he repositions himself in his seat.

“Seonghwa, you didn’t know about that part? Not even when you talked to them?”

The older shakes his head, “We didn’t get the chance to talk too much.. Things kept getting in the way.” He purses his lips in mild annoyance at how things played out for everyone. “But,” he continues, and the way his voice carries in the room has everyone looking at him. “I’ll find a way to talk to them again.”

It’s not really a surprise that San thought Seonghwa was the favored one but here they are, in a middle of chaos because of his assumptions.

“San, you have to talk to them as soon as possible and fix all of these. We can’t do everything for this.” Hongjoong says, his tone gentle. Being angry at this point won’t solve anything and god forbid two of his own members start fighting, and it had to be the two with the scariest tempers. The younger winces at the idea that his ego got the better of him and how he still has the audacity to worry about how you’d think of him once he comes clean with everything.

“I will, hyung.” With that, the meeting has ended and everyone’s retreating into their rooms. San catches Yunho’s worried look and he tries to shoot a reassuring smile at the male. “I’ll manage, Yunho. I haven’t failed yet.”

He hopes those won’t be his famous last words.

--------

Your phone wakes you up. Time for work. It takes a few tries (with some disgruntled whines) to finally start the day. “Fuck.. One more round for this promotion period.” You manage to grab yourself an oat drink on the way out, just to stave off the hunger until you arrive at the salon with all eight boys.

You arrive outside their dorm, knocking on the door. In a few seconds, Seonghwa’s the first one you see, already ready while the others are finishing up. “Morning!” You didn’t think he was a morning person, but here he is in a chipper mood than you.

“Morning, Seonghwa. Is everyone ready?” You peek behind him for a moment then back to the male in front of you.

“Give them five minutes.” Seonghwa suggests and lets you into their dorm, instead of letting you wait outside.

Finding discomfort in having to be in their personal space, you close the door quietly and wait outside. “Just don’t stall too much.” You say under your breath. Do you put too much trust in the boys? Seeds of uncertainty have been growing in your stomach as the promotions continue amidst the chaos behind the scenes. You need quiet time soon. Your eyes flit to the time in your phone, rough estimates run through your head as you debate on waiting here or heading to the car to start it up.

Before you could even come up with a decision, the door opens with eight boys already ready to start the day. Your eyes automatically go to Seonghwa and Hongjoong for reassurance. The show must go on after all.

--------

You can tell they’ve gotten used to performing even without a physical audience. They’ve grown rapidly as performers with each stage. You’ve eventually built up a wall between you and the members, not too fast that the others notice it but just enough for people to reason your absence with logic until they get used to it. The more you stray from them, the more you linger with the other staff members who went with you and the group. While your heart is confused with San, you find yourself in ease with people who also enjoy being behind the scenes. They share stories of their experience in the industry, crazy stories to horror stories. All of which gave you tips and lessons. You tell them yours as well, not everything, but just those that can be shared and in the exchange, you find yourself able to laugh freely again.

The boys let you be. They understand what had just happened between you and San is still fresh. It doesn’t stop San stealing glances at you, guilty and frustrated at what has happened.

“Let them be, San.” Yunho says softly in between spoonfuls of his meal. San’s eyes tear away from you and it makes Yunho sympathize with him. He can see how San still feels guilty about it but still so prideful, still so stubborn. “They’ll come around eventually. At least they’re still doing their job right?” He adds, in hopes of pointing out something good despite the chaos.

“I guess so..” The other returns, eventually focusing on his meal as they get ready to perform.

It doesn’t take long until they’re called on stage and the room mellows down to quiet chatter among staff members. Manager Bae approaches you as you busy yourself with your own phone and laptop. “Are you okay?” he asks you as he drops next to you. He leans against the table as his eyes are kept on the tv screen.

Your fingers fly over the keyboard as you pen another email to send to the externals team. Eyes snap to the man next to you as before turning your attention back to your laptop. “Why the question? I’m alright as far as I know.”

He shakes his head for a moment, before taking a sip of the instant coffee. “No reason, just checking up on you after the intense schedules lately. They can take a toll on anyone.”

You would know. At his words, you shake your head to reassure him. “I knew what I was getting into when I sent my work application here.” Not entirely a lie. You were ready for hectic schedules especially for a rising idol group. What you weren’t ready for was feelings from a rising idol but that was besides the point. You scan through your email once more, making sure all the important details are in it before pressing send. “I promise, I’m able to get with the pace. If I can’t, at least let me stay until the end of a promotional cycle.” You add with a light chuckle.

The older looks at you with slight concern that you don’t catch, too busy rearranging your schedule. “If there’s any trouble besides health, don’t hesitate to tell any of us alright?” He says. You hum in agreement, doing your best to reassure him. It doesn’t take long until the boys are up on screen, pouring their heart out as if they’ve been doing this for so long. You could hear some sounds of admiration a few rooms down and you could only assume that it’s the rookies watching the same stage. There’s really just something about San performing, especially a song like Thanxx. Would it be right to compare San to a chameleon? Any color he seems to just get into it but it didn’t seem to be right. There’s something about the song that makes you think ‘This is the group that has captured the public’ and San’s practically shining on this stage. You force yourself out of it, focusing on everyone as well and you find yourself grinning at Yeosang’s cheekiness.

You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, a lazy grin still on your features. “Who knew Yeosang would bring out this cheekiness?” You ask softly and it makes Manager Bae laugh.

“He’s always been that type of guy but having it on stage really is a bit of shocker.”

You lean against your seat, somehow impressed with how much Yeosang has grown as a performer. “Oh, have you received news so far on Manager Hwang?”

He looks at you with a raised brow in jest. “Itching to get away from the chaos the boys bring?” The question causes you to defend yourself immediately, floundering over words and while waving your hands to push away such thought. While in a different context completely, the words hit a little too close to home. Manager Bae laughs at your reaction, “Relax, to answer your question, Hwang’s doing better now. He’ll be back by the end of the year.”

A few more months, but a few more weeks of this hectic schedule. You can last, at least you hope so.

The boys finish their stage without a hitch and they return to the dressing room still high on the stage adrenaline. You let them settle down first as they catch their breath for their next schedule. Somehow Seonghwa manages to pull you aside.

“We need to continue our talk soon..” He mumbles away from everyone’s earshot. You bite your bottom lip and concede to his wishes.

“Fine, after this week of schedules.”

---------

The talk doesn’t happen much to your relief and their frustration. Their schedules were swamped still with offers and preparations for upcoming shows. Little by little though, you slowly excuse yourself from their free time. Only appearing for when you need to bring them home or to their schedules.

But even if the talk doesn’t happen, you’re still stressed with no sign of a break. Every moment you have to yourself throughout the day is spent trying to catch your breath and calm your racing heart and mind. You look at the time, their last schedule was about to end and so will everyone’s shift. It’s your turn to bring all the boys home, and with that your schedule essentially ends by now. The boys are in the studio, practicing for a different stage this time, reviewing old pieces that can be reinvented for the new performance. Almost half the boys are on their backs, exhausted from the long day they have. You sigh, knowing how it feels to be so tired and so hungry after hectic schedules. “Alright, what do you guys want for dinner?” You ask them and they look up at you through the bullets of sweat that has been running down their skin. It’s when the question catches no answer from the boys that give you an idea of just how exhausted they are. “Guys? What do you want for dinner? It’s on me.”

“Fried chicken please?”

“Can we get meat?”

“Cola too..”

Even without looking at each of their faces, you can already see the pout on some of their faces. A soft chuckle slips from your lips, taking notes of their wants. “Think you guys can hold on for a few minutes?”

“Knowing them, anything for food.” Seonghwa says as he gets back up on his feet, slipping on a jacket. “I’ll go with you.” You look at him with a raised eyebrow, knowing that this can go a certain direction. You don’t say anything but nod at his words, you spin on your heels and leave the studio. You didn’t want to look at San’s direction, you just can’t get yourself to look at his general direction even if he was just a few feet in front of you.

Once out of the building, you find yourself breathing out a sigh of relief which Seonghwa notices. “Long day?” He asks softly, as he walks with you towards the nearest restaurants. All you really do is just hum in agreement. You weren’t in any mood to talk about how your days have been since that argument, your supposed meet with Jiwoo kept getting pushed back, so you’ve been stuck on your own for who knows how long. He senses how tired you are, figuring it would be better to keep the talk to a later time. The two of you end up walking quietly down the road, looking for the favorite restaurant of the boys. He has to tug at your sleeve to get you back to reality once the both of you arrive outside the restaurant. “We’re here.. Did you want coffee?” He asks as he opens the door for the two of you.

There were a few tables that were occupied but not to the point where your health could be on the line. “Can we ask for take out?” You ask the staff, they know your face by now for the same orders over the past few months. The answer is an obvious yes but it never hurts to ask especially with everything happening.

“The usual?”

“Yes, plus a few add-ons..” You list down the drinks and other side dishes the boys would definitely want post training. Seeing you converse with the staff, Seonghwa somehow understands why San fell for you but he also somehow understands why you’re so apprehensive. It’s just a matter of time to make the two of you see each other’s reasons and find a middle ground. Now that all the orders have been listed, they let you take a seat on one of the available tables. The two of you finally let your feet rest as you try to find ways to kill time. It was tricky to talk about the elephant in the room with the restaurant still being occupied by people besides the two of you.

“Manager-nim..” Seonghwa calls softly, watching you practically deflate in your seat. “You really need to rest.”

“After your promotions, I will.” You say as you stretch your back in your seat. The male eyes you with worry but you’re very much like them, stubborn and wanting others to not worry about them.

The two of you busy yourselves with other conversations to kill the time, monitoring how the public have been finding their performances, and other offers that were around the corner for them.

What the two of you didn’t know was that someone had recognized Seonghwa and has proceeded to sneak a photo of him with you. The stranger has managed to post it on social media, causing a stir online on who could be with him and if he was dating. It doesn’t take too long for the tweet to spread around social media, and fortunately for the two of you, the food comes in quickly. “Come again soon and stay safe and healthy!” says the staff as the two of you bow your thanks and hurry off to return to seven hungry boys.

In the studio, some of the guys catch on their sleep with a nap while they wait for your return. The others busy themselves on their phones, looking at what their fans have been talking about and what wishes to fulfill on stage. Yunho notices that Seonghwa’s name is on the trending topics and decides to snoop around, wondering what did he do this time that has the fans wrapped around him. His eyes slip towards San, who was deep asleep on the floor, his cap covering his face. He looks over at Hongjoong who was busy doing the same, probably looking at the letters fans have sent to them. “Hyung..” He whispers softly, as he slowly slides over to the older male.

The older looks at his screen and already knew what was up from just a quick glance.

[Hongjoong to Seonghwa] Where are you

[Hongjoong to Seonghwa] hey people think you’re dating someone.

Hongjoong scrolls through the posts and he sighs in relief as it seems that they don’t know it’s you. Your features could barely be seen from the angle it was shot.

[Hongjoong to Seonghwa] they think you’re dating manager-nim seriously, hurry quick because people are gonna fuss over it the longer you’re out.

“It’ll be fine, Yunho. As long as the others don’t see it.. And we have mature fans, they’ll be able to take care of this.” It’s also a reassurance for him too. They never really had a dating scandal and he kind of wishes it would stay like that as long as possible. “If anything bad happens, just tell me okay? We’ll be able to take care of it.”

--------

Seonghwa’s phone vibrates almost nonstop and you take a plastic bag with the food from him to let him check his phone. “The boys?” you ask as the two of you walk back to the agency. It’s his groan that makes you look at him from the corner of your eye. “What happened?” You press.

“Someone took a photo of us in the restaurant, thinking I’m dating you.” He explains with another hiss of annoyance. “Your face isn’t seen but it’s making rounds.”

[Seonghwa to Hongjoong] On our way back

[Seonghwa to Hongjoong] Five minutes.

He takes the bag back from you and starts to walk a little quicker. “Let’s hurry back.” He says.

If it weren’t for how he was walkiing so fast, you would’ve stood there stunned by such assumptions from strangers. You do your best to match his pace, all while making sure nothing spills from the containers. You just hoped the rest of the group and the company sees none of this otherwise, you are quite literally screwed.

--------

Everyone was slowly waking up in the studio, and thanks to Wooyoung’s sharp nose, he could already smell the food. They know better than to doubt his sense of smell. “They’re here! They’re here!” Wooyoung exclaims. San being the hardest to wake up, it takes a while for him to regain his surroundings. He rolls across the floor, not wanting to get up. “Hey San! They brought meat!” Wooyoung exclaims and that was enough to get him to sit up first, trying to shake away the grogginess. The latter eventually stands up and drags himself to the kitchen where everyone was at this point. He pats his jacket down, just to make sure if his phone was in there as he walks down the hallway. The bustling in the kitchen was hushed from the weariness but still lively from guys who are aching to get something in their stomach.

San is greeted by the sight of his members bustling around the food, excited to eat something filling. He’s also greeted by the sight of you sitting a little further away from where Seonghwa is, instead opting to sit near Jongho and Yunho. Hell, you’re far from where he sits too. He wonders if something had happened on the way here for you to be this quiet.

You had let the boys busy themselves with their own meals as you eat yours quietly. Your fingers scroll through social media as you search for tweets regarding the dating rumor. Despite Seonghwa having reassured you that your face couldn’t be seen, you wanted to see it for yourself. There were already heated discussions about the group and who the mystery person is. Some fans found an account that they assume is you. A part of you had to give it to them for thinking that random user is you, but it’s not. The other part is terrified of how skilled they can be in searching for people on the internet that matches their assumptions. Some fans had managed to control the flames before it reached the rest of the fans. The mere idea that they could’ve found your social media makes your blood run cold still. You really can’t do this.

The meal time ends soon and the boys are ready to head home. “Can you guys take out the trash? I’ll get the car ready.” You say.

“Sure thing, Manager-nim. ‘Kay Wooyoung, get in the bag.” Yeosang jokes, gesturing for his friend to get into the used bag and it was enough to get the room sputtering from the sudden comment.

“Yeosang!” You sputter out through laughter. It’s how Wooyoung looks at his best friend that has you doubling over. It’s been a while since you managed to let out laughter that was so genuine and it does lift your spirits even for a short while. “I can’t believe you guys, I’ll wait for you all by the car okay?”

Now that you had left first, Seonghwa lets out a breath he’s been holding the entire time. “San, we need to talk first.” This makes everyone turn to the two of them. San raises an eyebrow out of alarm and concern.

“Did something happen?”

Now, Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Yunho look at each other in confusion. They honestly had expected that San would know by now as he was often on his phone during their down time. He was also usually the first to know the trends. How else did he get everyone to hit the whoa constantly?

It had to come from Seonghwa. “For transparency’s sake, some stranger took a photo of Manager-nim and I thinking we were on a date, right while we were waiting for our food. They didn’t catch Manager-nim’s face but it’s kind of everywhere online. Just needed to let you know to avoid misunderstandings.”

The first few words made his stomach drop but thankfully it didn’t go any lower. San honestly didn’t know what else to say, was he jealous that people thought you and Seonghwa were a thing? Somewhat. Was he worried for the group and for you about this news? Pretty much. He does have faith in their fans to know better than to believe something so baseless. Despite that, a lot of emotions were running through him. For now, he had to push them away. “I, uh, I see… uh, Thanks for letting me know, hyung. Let’s go? Manager-nim’s going to wonder why we’re taking too long.”

“We can just say we tried to fit Wooyoung in the bag, hehet.”

“Agh! Kang Yeosang!”

--------

It takes a few minutes for them to head down, and by then you were already in the driver’s seat, waiting for them. “Maybe I shouldn’t have waited for them.” You mumble. By the time you finish the thought, the car doors swing open and the boys slowly trickle into the car.

“Sorry we took so long.” Jongho’s voice startles you, nearly making you drop your phone. “Yeosang-hyung was actually trying to get Wooyoung-hyung into the bag.”

His words make you twist in your seat to look at Yeosang. “How did that go?” Your question makes Wooyoung whine at how you were also teasing him. For a few moments, things were back to normal, which for the most part was good as it helped you destress. The ride back home went by smoothly, the boys busy with themselves while Jongho kept you company in the passenger’s seat.

Once all of you arrived back in the apartment, they hop off and now that you were on your own again, you let out a sigh. The back of your head resting against the headrest of the driver’s seat. A few more rounds then this promotional cycle is done. You rub your stiff shoulders, maybe you should invest in a newer bag soon. After the quiet moments on your own in the car, you suppose that you should get out and head to your place.

Just as you’re walking towards the elevator, you’re greeted by the boys still lingering. “I thought you guys went up already.” You mumble.

“San said to wait for you so we did.” Yunho chimes in and you look at them with a raised eyebrow. It takes a lot from you to actually spare that man a glance. It’s mind reeling when you actually share a glance.

“I see..”

“Though if it’s payback for making you wait earlier then that’s also understandable.” He adds quickly, which once again causes a small smile to form on your features. You don’t really see how the others look relieved to see you smiling a little more even just for today. The joke makes you shake your head, endeared by their actions.

“Come on, it’s late.” You usher the boys in once the doors slide open. Now, while in bigger spaces, you had control of where you can be and who to be with. In something as small as an elevator, you didn’t have much choice. You were stuffed next to San by the corner. Somehow it was already agreed that you’d be the first one to be dropped off, something about you deserving to get more sleep than them. You’d like to disagree but when the battle is eight against one, it was better to let it be. You haven’t been in contact with San unless it’s a group related matter so to have him The doors open and you immediately get yourself out of the lift, you bid them a good night and you immediately walk off, not wanting to look him in the eye, even when you felt his gaze on you.

San was about to follow you but the doors closed in on them and already started moving towards their floor. Yunho notices him deflate in his spot, pulling his hat down over his features. He doesn’t say anything about this for now, instead waiting for them to arrive at their rooms just so they can talk about this. The taller male looks at the screen go through the other floors until they arrive at their floor. He decides to trail behind with San, making sure that the others don’t hear them. “Go and shower before me, I know you’re stuck in your head again.” The other says nothing but nod. Yunho says nothing when he catches sight of San quickly wiping at his face underneath the hat.

--------

San’s already in bed, waiting for his roommate to finish showering. He’s busy on his phone instead of being on the computer. You haven’t replied to his messages either. He sees the tweets, well some of it, as the original posts are now deleted or are now hidden behind private accounts. Regardless, he still can see the aftermath from questionable accounts and his fans. He’s slowly understanding why you’ve been unresponsive and evasive of him. It’s not excusable but it gives him a perspective on why you did the things you did.

Yunho finally enters the room, hair still dripping wet from his shower. “Took you awhile.” San says, trying to act fine, even when the two of them know better.

“You know how Seonghwa-hyung is when it comes to the shower.” Yunho returns lightheartedly, and from a few feet away, they can hear Seonghwa yell in defense. The two roommates glance at each other for a moment, surprised that the eldest heard their banter before chuckling to themselves. Yunho then shuts the door quietly, just so they can talk a little more freely without the pressure of the other members hearing in on them. “Wanna talk about what’s going on in your head?” He starts as he dries his hair with a towel.

The question makes San think for a moment. That’s the thing with him, when his thoughts are too muddled, making them into a coherent phrase is a challenge. “I really don’t know why I wanted to go after them.” He admits after moments of silence. If they stayed quiet long enough, they could hear Hongjoong and Yeosang playing video games in the living room. “I’ve avoided them long enough that they’re doing the same now.” He continues dejectedly.

Yunho mulls over his words and knowing how everyone is, spread too thin with their current schedules and for their upcoming schedules. It would be hard to think clearly in this current situation. “Tell you what,” he starts, tossing his towel over the chair. “Try to talk to them after our promotions, we won’t be promoting until somewhere in 2021.” He sits up on his bed, his pillow on his lap. “Manager-nim been so tired too, late nights from us and helping out the externals with putting our names out there. Didn’t they get us a photoshoot with a big magazine?”

San has noticed it too, your eyebags have been a lot more prominent even when you try to cover it up with the make up tips their makeup artists teach you. The attentive light in your eyes have dimmed slightly and he has seen you staring into space or napping when there’s time for you. To approach you know would strain you even more and he’s already done enough of that.

“You’ll figure it out, San. Don’t rush it.” Yunho reassures and somehow San wants to believe in himself the way Yunho does too.

--------

You’re still hung up on the posts on social media, scrolling through all the posts made by users as they try to figure out who Seonghwa was with. Someone posts a profile that looks a lot like yours and it makes your stomach drop. It’s yours. Somehow, they found your profile as one of the probable people that Seonghwa hung out with. On adrenaline, you try to read through the post and comments, most of which were to your defense. You were grateful for that but you didn’t feel comfortable knowing strangers on the internet know of your account and are possibly going through your posts.

[ You to Manager Chat ] can someone cover my shift tomorrow?

You realize your message might be taken for worse so you quickly follow it up.

[ You to Manager Chat ] It’s nothing serious. I just think my body’s going to get sick if i don’t take care of it now.

[ Manager Bae to Manager Chat ] I’ll cover. Take care of yourself especially in this time. You sure you only need one day?

The question makes you pause. You want more than a day but you’ll have to play it out.

[ You to Manager Chat ] I’ll feel it out and let you know asap. Thank you :(

[ You to Manager Chat ] I trust you enough to let you get the keys from my apartment.

You send the passcode to your place to the chat and tell them where you keep the keys whenever it’s you on the job. Once they acknowledge your messages you toss your phone elsewhere.

Your body deflates on the bed as you try to figure out how to manage your social media accounts without looking suspicious to the fans. Your eyes glance to the digital clock by your bedside.

2.35 AM

“Fuck..” You groan out, rolling onto your stomach as you try to will yourself to sleep. One step at a time, you’ll get through this. You hope you do.

--------

The boys are greeted by Manager Bae in their car.

“It’s not them today?” Seonghwa asks, mildly alarmed by the lack of a heads up in the change of plans.

“They’re not feeling well today,” he explains much to the worry of the boys. “they needed the rest.” He continues as he waits for the boys to settle into their seats before pulling out of the parking lot. Their manager senses the unease and he can’t help but symphathize. “Boys, they’ll be alright, the schedules just got to them and their body just needs to reset.”

Seonghwa glances at San who has an unreadable expression on his face. “They’ll be okay.” The eldest says as a reassurance for everyone. A small part of him worries if he has some degree of fault as well in this entire situation on your health too.

--------

You wake up with the sun already at its highest point. Your hand hops around the bed, looking for your phone until you feel the cool metal under your fingertips. Eyes squint through the burning brightness of the sun and your phone screen.

13.45

Nearly twelve hours of sleep isn’t so bad you thought.

[ San to Group chat ] Manager-nim are you okay?

The message was sent six hours ago. Oops.

In your still groggy state, you manage to send a reply, not really realizing who sent the message.

[ You to Group chat ] I’m okay. I just need rest.

It takes a while for you to get out of your bed. Body still too tired to move properly after months of constantly moving that a day where you get to sleep in and move without rushing is proving to be a shock.

One way or another, you’re able to make yourself something light to eat with your usual coffee. You manage to get yourself together to take care of yourself without any rush. It’s a nice change, you had to admit: no yelling and bantering, just faint music from your phone. Your music falters for a moment notifying you of a message.

[ Manager Bae to Manager chat ] don’t worry too much about coming in tomorrow. I talked with the team and they want you to take some rest for your safety and everyone else’s.

[ You to Manager chat ] I’m not fired right…

[ Manager Bae to Manager chat ] No no! Just get some rest, the company knows you’ve been working hard too.

You look at the messages and sigh softly.

[ Manager Bae to Manager chat ] also don’t worry about your planned day off, it’s still set after the promotions.

You’re starting to appreciate the company you work for after that. You try to quickly get ready for the day, fixing what you need to make sure to get yourself tested for the virus within the day.

Bzz Bzz!

It’s Jiwoo. You didn’t think she’d finally have some time after that chaotic news from one of her artists. “Hello?” Her voice booms from the other line and you opt to put her on speaker, wanting to save your ears.

“Hello! I miss you a lot, I know it was an ass move from me to disappear from you for weeks--”

You cut her off there. “Jiwoo, we’re in an industry that’s kind of cut throat, I kind of understand what you had to do to deal with things..” Your words make her pause for a moment and for a split second, you wonder if she was still okay.

“Touche, now I owe you my time because I remember you told me something has been bothering you.” She recovers with ease and you’re left to your own devices, putting your phone on the counter as you make yourself a cup of coffee. Her words cause you to falter in your movements, almost spilling some coffee grounds. No escape from this topic really huh. So you ended up telling them everything since the first day of work for the sake of context, up to when San confessed to you.

“I swear Jiwoo, if news about this breaks out, I will go to you and break your kneecaps.” Your coffee was finally done by the time you finished your story.

She’s unfazed by your threat, and instead decides to ask you a question. “And how are you with all of these?”

A quiet sip of the liquidated caffeine to gather your thoughts. “Stressed, worried, I genuinely don’t know what I feel about him.” It was the truth too. You barely had time to process your own feelings even if Seonghwa tried to talk to you. Everything lately has been full speed ahead, no space to pick up the emotions.

“Do you want my thoughts on this?”

“Please. You know me better than the boys… and me.”

“if you didn’t like them, why would you be so affected?”

It’s a good thing you haven’t taken a sip of your coffee otherwise you would’ve spilled it all over yourself. “Huh?”

Jiwoo clears her throat and you can already picture her sitting up on her bed. “Mind you, I’m just approaching this from an outsider, who also has an inkling of how you can be in this situation. Also from what I know through you and from other staff, San does have a tendency to show his best and genuine side doesn’t he?” The question has your head running back through all the days you spent with him alone. “Don’t get it twisted, okay? I genuinely think you harbor a bit of a liking for him--which is mind you, very understandable based on everything I hear about him. Eventually you know yourself better than I do and considering you won’t be going to work right? Today and tomorrow? Try to think about it.”

Your voice comes out a little weak. “Yeah..” The thought she suggested had you reeling. Did you really have feelings for him?

“I have to go now, I have a meeting in two hours. Talk to you soon?” She says, hoping to hear from you soon. Ideally when both your schedules aren’t as hectic as they are.

“O-oh yeah sure, let’s hang soon when all of our schedules are over.” With that, the call ends and you stare at your still unfinished cup of coffee.

You spend the rest of your day in your apartment, catching up on your own hobbies and self. Even if you try to busy yourself with your own interests, you mind wanders back to what Jiwoo said. Did you really have feelings for him? You were so sure of yourself that you could separate your own feelings from work but now you’re not as sure.

There’s a knock on your door that yanks you out of your thoughts. Who was at the door?

You push yourself off the floor, pausing your movie as you make your way to the door. The knocks continue, a little more persistent this time. You peek at the peephole and the people you see confuses you. You open the door, greeted by the sight of a startled duo. “Hongjoong, Seonghwa, what are you doing here?”

“Can we come in? We brought food for you.”

“You’re lucky I’m not sick.” You mumble, letting them in.

This is the first time they see your apartment. Maybe it’s because you live alone that they feel like they can breathe easier compared to the full house a few floors above. You know that their eyes are looking around your place, there’s not a lot of items around, you had to admit. You just liked to keep things simple, easier to pack and unpack when you have to move.

“Oh, you have our albums on display!” Hongjoong exclaims, thoroughly flattered.

“Of course.” You say, you’re their manager, should you not have their works on display? You were proud of how well they’ve been received by the public too. A nervous hand goes up to rub the back of your neck. “Uh, can I know why you guys are here?” You don’t remember telling them either what number your apartment was.

Seonghwa sets the food they bought for you on the table. “We wanted to fill you in on some things.”

“Coffee, water, tea?”

This was going to be a long night.

--------

Seonghwa takes another sip of his tea and Hongjoong hasn’t touched his coffee yet. You on the other hand, haven’t touched your water. “So you’re telling me,” you start, trying to wrap your head around this piece of information. “Choi San, thinks that I liked Seonghwa.”

“Thought, but yeah..” Seonghwa corrects gently and his gaze carries sympathy at how you just looked so tired with this chaos. Your face is hidden behind your hands before you lean back against your seat. The entire night ended up with the two of them having dinner with you while filling you in on details you missed.

There’s silence now as you try to absorb the information. It’s only then that Hongjoong drinks his now cold coffee. He glances at the male beside you, concern in his eyes. Truthfully, even he didn’t know how to console you. Everything has been full speed ahead for everyone, while he and the boys are accustomed to it, you needed time to recuperate. “Do you want to say everything in your mind?”

“Hongjoong, my mind’s a mess.”

“That’s perfectly fine. You gotta let it out right?”

So that’s when you filled them in on your conversation with your best friend earlier today. “Her thought is that I have feelings for San too but I don’t know if I do.” Hongjoong peers at you curiously and it’s Seonghwa’s turn to shoot him a look.

“Because..?”

“Because, I don’t really spend time with you guys outside work responsibilities?” That was a valid point you had there. Hongjoong hums at your reply, letting you continue. “Don’t get me wrong, all of you are great to be with but the idea of someone… liking me merely because of what I signed up to do is a little weird.” You admit, looking down at your glass of water. “Mind you, the only time I’ve hanged out with you guys outside of work is now and it’s not even everyone.”

While to them they aren’t surprised that San had caught feelings for you, your logical approach to this somewhat surprised them. San could definitely learn a thing or two from you.

“Question.” Seonghwa pipes up, two pairs of eyes turning to him. “So what if things happened a little differently, would you have caught feelings for him too?”

That was admittedly a question you don’t know the answer to. The whole what if premise never entered your thoughts. “I don’t know the answer to that Seonghwa. If I did, I would’ve answered that earlier on.”

Silence again and the three of you finish your meals. It’s only after that discussion that the boys catch you up with everything and talk with you about other things besides work. It was a nice change you had to admit from everything. “How can you even watch that movie? I had to watch that between my fingers.” The eldest whines much to the mild annoyance of his peer.

“Cause they don’t get easily scared like you, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong returns with ease, much to your entertainment. You look at the time, and your spirit deflates at how the night has to end.

“As much as I would like to keep this going, it’s late…” You say carefully. The boys catch your meaning and help you clean up. Bless their hearts for being the ones willing to deal with the trash of the food they bought. “Thank you for tonight. Get some sleep okay?” You bid them a good night, not heading inside until they’re out of your eyesight. The peace is short lived, as you head back inside. The apartment’s quiet again, save for the faint volume of your laptop playing music. Your thoughts though, will start to run eventually. It feels a little lonely this time, it’s been too long since you’ve had people at your place.

--------

You’re going through social media in bed, wondering what’s new lately. You notice that there’s a new tweets about San, fear runs through your veins, preparing for the worst. When you open the topic, it’s all good words; fans from other idol groups praising him for his performance ethics, professionals from other fields praising him for his attitude and looks. Relief floods over you and you catch yourself shedding tears. You don't understand how something as small as this pushes you to tears but it does. You don't sob, instead they're quiet tears. Not because you didn't want your neighbors or anyone to hear you, you just didn't have the strength to sob. You’re just tired from everything.

Maybe that extra day will help you. You hope it will. Hopefully, things get better soon.

Part 6

#my writings #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #idk what else to tag this as i'll figure it out after i play genshin lol

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cali-holland · 4 years ago

Text

How Perfect You Are- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Prompt: After a rough day, Tom’s there to cheer you up.

Word Count: 1600

Warnings!!: cyberbullying, mentions of anxiety, self-image issues/slut shaming

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a couple months now, and it was written way before the rumors (because nothing has been confirmed by him yet) of Tom having a girlfriend. Respect Tom’s privacy and do not send hate to him or any of the people he is connected to, romantically or otherwise.

~~~

It was a rough day. Like a really rough day.

It seemed like every single uni assignment was due this week, and work was just the worst. You had a raging migraine, and your boss even offered to call someone in early to cover you, but you refused. You needed the hours, you needed the money, you didn’t need the constant searing pain on the top of your skull like someone was trying to pierce through it with a knife.

But you pushed through until you got home. The house was silent, just like the past few nights whenever you arrived home. Tom knew you had a lot of school work to do, so he tried to stay clear of your way. Earlier this week, he attempted to keep to himself in the living room while you worked in your shared room, but he found himself wandering into the bedroom periodically. He had been away filming for months, only to return during one of the most stressful parts of your school year- midterms. He just wanted to hold you, be with you in any way he could, but that was just distracting you and he knew it.

So he made himself busy at Harrison’s place for a few hours every night. It gave you enough time to buckle down and focus on your work, with him coming home shortly before the two of you went to bed. It was hard, but midterms were a bitch and Tom wasn’t about to help you with your fifteen page paper among other essays.

When the clock struck 11 pm, you knew Tom would be home soon and that you should probably stop working in a sad attempt to help your migraine. You changed into your pajamas (which consisted of one of Tom’s t-shirts and your own pajama shorts) and continued to go through your nightly routine. Laying down in the king-size bed, you snuggled down into the warm sheets. As tired as you were, you couldn’t fall asleep until Tom came home, knowing he’d be on his way shortly- after all, Harrison’s home wasn’t far from yours.

Waiting in your comfortably warm bed, you began to scroll through Instagram, wondering what you could have missed in the endless hours of you being offline for studying and work. You smiled to yourself when you realized Harrison had a saved Instagram live posted. Your smile grew even wider once you clicked on it and Tom appeared on the screen beside him. The time stamp of the video showed it was from an hour ago.

They were goofing about, being their normal selves and answering some questions from the comments. One question in particular caught your attention as a fan asked if you and Tom were still together- wow, so much for privacy.

“Yes, we are. She’s studying right now, working very, very hard. I love her loads, so yeah, of course we’re still together.” Tom laughed, almost disbelieving a fan would actually ask such an oddly invasive question. As Harrison continued on and answered another question, you began to read the comments that were drifting over the screen.

‘Can’t believe Tom’s still dating her’,‘They’ve got to be fake- there’s no way Tom would date someone like her’, ‘Tom’s really got bad taste’, the comments kept coming through for the next few minutes. Your eyes shifted to rest on Tom’s face, who seemed rather unbothered, like he hadn’t been reading those hurtful words that not only mocked him, but you and your relationship as a whole.

The live didn’t last long after that. You were grateful that there were no more questions about you specifically. Tom would mention you here and there, but he always did that. You were his favorite thing to talk about (except maybe, you were tied with Tessa) and so he struggled to not constantly gush over you.

You both knew when you started dating, almost 2 years ago now, that you’d be opening your life up to criticism. You were all for bettering yourself and hearing the opinions of other people, but that was with constructive criticism to help you become a better person, not crazy fans that hated you for no legitimate reason. It was definitely a challenge, but you kept your social media all private, only allowing people you know to follow you, like any normal 23 year old would do. Tom tried to keep his posts of you to a minimum, just sometimes he couldn’t help it. He loved you, and he wanted to show you off to the world; however, he did acknowledge the uncomfortable position it put you in.

It wasn’t like you hated his fans, no you loved them. There were some, though, that you didn’t appreciate, and you felt justified feeling that way. They were just upset over seeing their idol be “taken” by you- at least, that’s what you told yourself. You constantly had to remind yourself that no, you were not fat like they said; no, you were not stupid like they said; no, you were not ugly like they said; no, you were not undeserving of Tom like they said. You were you, and you were a great person, you liked yourself.

That was the mindset most nights, but tonight was not one of those nights.

Everything was stressing you out, your anxiety certainly was not in check. Those comments did nothing to improve your mental state, and yet you still found yourself on Tom’s account, looking at the pictures he had up of you, looking at the comments underneath them specifically.

‘Attention whore’, ‘cover up slut’, ‘her dress looks like vomit’, ‘why is Tom dating her’, ‘she doesn’t deserve him’, ‘their relationship cannot be real’. Each comment stung, yet you couldn’t pull yourself away from reading through them over and over again. Your vision began to get blurry from the tears that had welled up in your eyes. You rubbed your eyes, trying to hold yourself together, and threw the phone away from you- you didn’t care where it landed, it just couldn’t be near you.

“Ow!” Tom shouted, and you immediately removed the hand from covering your eyes.

“Tom?” Your voice came out as more of a pathetic squeak. He turned on the light and you could see he was rubbing his knee, where you assumed your phone had hit him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I just got in.” He said, placing your phone on the bed and beginning to change into his own pajamas.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. My bad.” You mumbled. You picked your phone up and took one last look at the Instagram comments.

“Is everything alright?” Tom asked. He turned off the lights and got into bed beside you under the covers. You wordlessly shrugged a little and set your phone on the nightstand beside you. Tom wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer into his warm, bare chest. His brown eyes softened, sensing something was wrong. “What’s going on, love?”

“I’m just stressed.” You replied quietly.

“I know when you’re ‘just stressed’. Something else is bothering you. What is it? You can tell me.” He frowned, his hand coming up to move a few loose hairs out of your face before he rested it on your neck with his thumb gently rubbing your jaw.

“I feel like the whole world hates me. School’s awful, work’s awful. And you get to go hang out with Harrison while I’m drowning in just work, and I feel like a bad girlfriend because you want to spend time with me, but I don’t have time for anything. And then, I go online and I just see all this hate. I know that they’re your fans and you love them, but it’s just so draining. I can’t handle it.” The tears were freely flowing from your eyes at this point. Tom shifted so that you could cry into his chest, and he held you tightly, reassuringly caressing your back as he did so.

“Hey, I love you, more than anything in the world. Don’t feel bad that you can’t spend time with me right now. Midterms and work- that’s your life right now. You’ve always waited for me, so I’m going to wait for you. As long as I get to come home and see your beautiful face every night, I’m perfectly content.” He paused and let out a small sigh, “And as for my fans, I’m sorry. I wish they could just understand. I love you, you are my girlfriend, our relationship is real, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Nothing that they say about you is true. Now, who is the most beautiful, kind-hearted, mesmerizing, brilliant woman I know?”

“Your mum.” You said, muffled by his chest.

“Who? I can’t hear you.” Tom teased. You pulled back to look at him. Despite the dark room only being illuminated by the moonlight creeping through the window and the alarm clock perched behind you, you could still see his kind smile as he looked at you. “Don’t say my mum. Come on, who is it?”

“I am.” You replied, unable to stop the small smile that crept its way onto your face as Tom nodded encouragingly.

“You are the most beautiful, kind-hearted- what else did I say?” He paused with a laugh, realized he’d forgotten his own words.

“Mesmerizing, brilliant?”

“Mesmerizing, brilliant woman I know. There’s just too many adjectives to describe just how perfect you are, darling.”

“I love you.” You smiled softly, leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you, too.”

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @tomkindholland

Tom Tag List: @quaksonhehe

#tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfic

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orange-waterfalls · 5 years ago

Text

Assistant

Darkiplier x male!reader

@just-bts-trash-00 ty for the request!

A/N: ok listen, I have zero clue how offices work or what assistants do. All I know is that lunch is at NOON. NOON is the time for lunch, I will fight you on this. Darkiplier not knowing how to handle feelings. We love an emotionally distant demon boi. Rated PG cuz 1 curse(that I'm aware of. I'm not reading it again cuz I'll want to change everything). Uh office romance yay. That's it. Enjoy.

Asks are open!

Word Count: 2.4k

You were the assistant of Darkiplier. The only reason you were his assistant was because nobody else wanted to be. When I say you were desperate for a job, you were desperate for a job. You had asked your friend, Bim Trimmer, if he knew about anyone who could give you a job. You figured, since he was famous, he might have connections.

He scratched the back of his head before saying "Well… there might be one guy… but I don't think you wanna work for him…". You then told him you would take literally anybody. The next day, you were introduced to Wilford Warfstache.

"Well, good morning!" He slurred a greeting to Bim. They hugged for a moment before Wilford saw you and gasped. "And who is this?"

"Wilford, this is Y/N L/N." Bim explained. "We were hoping you could give him a job." Wilford stroked his mustache thoughtfully before snapping his fingers.

"I know! You could be my assistant!" He grabbed your hands. You chuckled at his enthusiasm. "Oh, this'll be so fun! I've wanted an assistant ever since my last ones died!" Your smile dropped.

"Died?" You asked and turned to Bim. He rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses and groaned. You turned back to Wilford, who was still smiling at you. You retracted your hands.

"Yes, all my previous assistants have died." He said nonchalantly. "It's not my fault the gun went off." You began to worry.

You told Wilford that, respectfully, there was no goddamn way you were working for him. He said he understood and suggested a job as an assistant for one of his friends.

That's how you ended up working for Darkiplier.

When you first started at this new job of yours, he barely acknowledged your existence. You tried to tell him about his schedule and he wouldn't even bother sparing you a glance. Whenever he did pay attention to you, it was only to judge you. Your handwriting, your clothes, your voice…

After the first two weeks, you got sick of it. You planned a whole monologue on how you were going to tell him to respect you. You got as far as "you need to respect me" before he agreed to treat you better.

He wasn't as bad as he seemed.

He began to actually listen to you when you talked and took your advice about whatever you suggested. You could tell whenever he was stressed and made him a cup of tea, leaving it on his desk for when he came back. It was always warm because you timed almost everything perfectly.

You liked your job, but the man was still scary.

You took a deep breath in before entering Darkiplier's office. You held your clipboard close to your chest and walked up to his desk. He was reading a book, not paying much attention to anything else. You cleared your throat, making him look up at you.

"Problem, Mr. L/N?" He asked, voice echoing. You blinked before shaking your head and looking at your clipboard.

"Um, Mr. Warfstache called for a meeting." You informed him. You heard him groan, but kept talking. "He has an idea for a… club…"

"A club?"

"Yes… a dance club." The demon pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And why does he want a club?"

"He's been banned from all of them."

"In the city?"

"In the country, sir." Darkiplier rubbed his temples and you frowned, beginning to worry. "Migraine, sir?"

"I'm fine, Y/N…" he sighed. You raised your eyebrows. He'd never called you by your first name before. He realized what he said and looked up at you. You smirked playfully.

"Um…" he cleared his throat. "Tell them… that I'll be down in a minute." You nodded and left the office. Darkiplier sighed and buried his face in his hands.

You were his assistant, and you were a good one. You helped him manage his time, you catered to the other egos so they'd leave him alone, and you knew how to calm him down. You made him happy.

That was a problem.

Darkiplier wasn't good with feelings. The only ones he knew how to portray were anger and indifference. All he knew was that something had happened to him when you started working for him.

Anytime he was around you, his heart started to race. His palms would sweat, he'd feel his face heat, and he felt a knot in his stomach. He honestly thought you were, somehow, killing him. He then asked Dr. Iplier what his problem was, and the man chuckled before saying Dark was in love.

In love?

He thought there was no way.

But then he saw you laugh at something Wilford said, and it started to make sense.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" He mumbled.

You were obviously scared of him, no matter how much you helped. He couldn't blame you. There was no way you'd like him. Besides, he was your boss and you were focused on your job. He didn't want to seem like he was taking advantage of you. He didn't want you to quit. He wouldn't survive. He couldn't tell you. He couldn't. Not yet, at least.

He'd figure it out.

Three months. Three months you'd been working there, and Darkiplier still hadn't gathered up the courage to confess to you. Everytime he decided he was going to, you were busy. Making a schedule, talking to another ego, making him tea…

He couldn't do it.

Everytime he tried to speak to you he just ended up telling you to do something for him. It was your job, technically, but he felt kind of bad. He was making you do menial tasks just because he was a coward.

But today. Today was the day. He would confess to you in the meeting room, before the meeting started.

He took a deep breath and walked into the room, seeing you already there. You were sitting in his chair, scribbling words down on your clipboard. He stared at your focused face, not wanting to bother you. He stood there like a weirdo for two minutes before you finally glanced up, seeing him. You looked back down before realizing he was there and jumping up out of the chair.

"Sir! Hi! Sorry, I figured you wouldn't mind if I sat here…" you rambled. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice you, I-"

"It's alright, Mr. L/N." He reassured You sighed in relief and began to walk out the door. He gently grabbed your arm before you could leave, and you gave him a confused look.

He looked… frustrated. Angry about something. You frowned. Did something happen? Did you do something wrong?

"Y/N…" he began. You raised an eyebrow. He said your first name. He looked around, noticing the other egos beginning to enter. He had to say it right then and right there. "Y/N, I-" he was cut off by the fire alarm going off. Wilford burst into the room.

"Ok… so I may or may not have blown up the microwave…" he said guiltily. Dark let go of your arm with a growl and went to the lounge, while you and all the other egos went outside.

Dark sighed as he sprayed the fire extinguisher and Wilford hid behind him. He thought about you. You were right there. He was just about to tell you!

He would have other chances. He'd be fine. It'd be fine.

Darkiplier groaned as he laid his head on his desk. He wanted to confess. He did! He really, really did! But… he got nervous. You were just so handsome! Especially since you'd taken up a new hairstyle. You looked so… confident. And outgoing. And sexy!

He couldn't. He refused to.

That is until Wilford waltzed into his office and claimed, "If you don't ask out that strapping young lad, I will!"

Now he had to ask you out. He figured it was a joke, but he couldn't take any chances with Wilford. The interviewer would probably kill you.

So, he made a to-do list of everything he was going to do that day. He was going to confess to you during lunch. He wrote it down in a small notepad you gave him for Christmas. He sighed and looked at the list.

Convince Warfstache not to kill everyone who annoys him: Meeting, 10:00 a.m.

He looked at the time.

9:45

He took a deep breath and stood up. He might as well get there early. Not like he had anything better to do. He left the notepad open on his desk and went to the meeting room.

You walked out of the restroom and headed towards the lounge, shaking your hands of water as you walked. You knew he was in a meeting, so you went to make him some tea for when it was over. You knew how aggravated he could get.

You made him a cup of Chamomile tea and walked to his office. You entered the room and sat the tea on a coaster he kept. You looked around the room for a moment before deciding you should meet Dark at the door of the meeting room when it's over. You go to pick the tea back up, but something catches your eye.

The notepad you gave him was open, and the page was titled, "To Do List". You raised your eyebrows. He had things to do? You were going to have to implement them into his schedule.

You picked up the notepad and read through the list. It was normal, for the most part. Meeting, meditate, nap, lunch…

There was just one thing you didn't really understand.

What did he mean by "confess"?

At 11:59, right before lunch, it said to "confess to Y/N"

Firstly, it was 12:15, so he was late.

Second, what did that mean?

The first thing that popped into your head was that he was going to confess his love. But he doesn't like you like that… right?

Well… he did act a bit strange around you… and he was nicer to you than the other egos… and you could swear you saw his face turn bright pink one time…

And you did hear Wilford say something about if Dark didn't ask out "that strapping young lad", then he would…

And Wilford asked you out a week after.

Oh.

Oh God.

He liked you.

Darkiplier liked you!

How did you not notice this before? Were you really that oblivious? How long had he liked you? You had so many questions!

And then Darkiplier walked in the door.

He didn't notice you at first, but smiled a bit when he did.

"Good morning, Mr. L/N. How--" he stopped his greeting and froze when he saw his notepad in your hands.

You turned to him, a confused look on your face. He looked at you, slight worry and fear in his eyes, before he sighed and walked over to you. He took the notepad from your hands and sat it on his desk. He walked around the desk and sat in his chair.

"Sit," he gestured to the chair across from him. You plopped down.

"You…" you breathed out. He smiled sadly and looked down.

"Yes."

"You love me…"

"Yes, I do…"

"How long?"

"How long have you worked here?" You both chuckled. You shook your head.

"I don't believe it…" Darkiplier stood. You stared up at him, wondering what he was going to do.

"I understand if you would like to quit. I will give you a recommendation for your next job."

"Excuse me?" You asked. He blinked and looked up. You were no longer sitting, as you were resting your palms on his desk, leaning over it slightly. "Why would I quit? I love this job!"

"What?"

"Everyone's so nice! I have never been in such a wholesome work environment!" You gushed. Darkiplier looked at you, confusion evident on his pale face.

"But… I-"

"Yeah, you love me. But guess what, dude? I love you, too!" You blurt out. Dark was taken aback by your sudden confession.

"I thought you were focusing on your job…" he pointed out.

"Technically, you are my job," you smirked. Both of you stared at each other for a moment before laughing. Well, you laughed. Darkiplier just let out small chuckles.

He let his eyes trace over your face. You looked so happy. He loved to see you happy…

He set a hand on your cheek and you stopped laughing. He was cold, but you didn't care. Your smile fell as you watched him. He leaned over the desk, like you were, and stroked your cheek with his thumb. He gazed into your eyes and just stood there. Just appreciating the moment.

You let your eyes flutter closed, hoping he'd understand.

He did.

You felt cold lips on yours. It sent a shiver down your spine and gave you goosebumps, but you didn't pull away. You both tilted your heads for a better angle, and you deepened the kiss by running your fingers through his hair and keeping them tangled.

And then the moment was ruined by Wilford letting out a wolf-whistle. You quickly pulled away from Dark and dropped yourself back in the chair.

"Well, Dark, I didn't know you had it in you!" He laughed. Dark turned towards him and you saw the red and blue auras around his grow. You looked back and saw Google and Bim give some money to Dr. Iplier, both egos grumbling in annoyance. You flushed and turned back, hiding your face in your hands. Dark stalked towards the egos, a threatening gaze daring them to say something else. All of them were smart enough to run. Except for Wilford, who asked "Can I be your best man, Dark?"

You then heard a scream of terror from Wilford and him running out of the office. Dark removed your hands from your face, his aura still large, and kissed one of your palms.

"Be right back, handsome…" he said too softly for the anger in his eyes. You grinned at his messier-than-usual hair and nodded. He stormed out of the office.

"Wilford!" He bellowed. You snorted and shook your head as you got out your schedule. You looked at the time.

12:30

You missed lunch. You'd have to make room for some food…

Among other things…

#darkiplier #markiplier darkiplier #mtv darkiplier #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier x male!reader #darkiplier x male y/n #darkiplier x y/n #darkiplier x you #x reader #x male reader #x y/n #x you #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier egos

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

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Title: Love, Maybe? {43}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst

Word Count: 2K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

NOTE: **Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊❤❤️

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Chapter 41: Life Goes On

-Chris-

That was the end of it. What do you do when the woman you married for fun turns out to be the woman of your dreams, the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with decides she doesn’t want to spend her life with you because of something you’d done? How do you move on and not be completely destroyed when you saw her? How do you be around her and still be the good guy? After five days out of town back in Boston, he still hadn’t figured it out.

That line they use and say space gives your perspective and helps heal wounds was a crock of shit. He was more than a thousand miles away from you but still, he was hurting. Every day seemed to intensify the pain he felt. He thought of you all day, dreamt of you, and in between that he tried to pretend he was fine. Everyone around him knew he wasn’t fine. They all knew but no one spoke a word about it. He was grateful for it.

His mood was shit, his behavior was shit and his work ethic was also shit. He didn’t give a shit about anything no matter how he tried. He tried over time to not be angry with you, not resent you or even hate you and for the most part, it was working. He didn’t hate you, he couldn’t he realized that months ago. That’s what made it so hard. It would have been easier on him to hate you; it would probably have helped with the pain he felt but he couldn’t bring himself to it.

So, he had to figure out a way to be neutral around you. He had to figure out a way to accept his reality, a reality that didn’t include you in his life in the capacity he wanted. He had to come to terms that the only role that mattered right now was father. By the time he accepted that he devised a plan to focus on that, focus on Ella. He worked to mentally and emotionally be prepared to be the best father he could, the father Ella deserved.

MSG: I’d like to spend some time with Ella, if possible.

A few minutes passed with no response. With every second his angst grew.

MSG Vixen: Sure. Tell me when and I’ll make it happen.

MSG: I should be back in town tomorrow. So, maybe I can spend lunch with her?

MSG Vixen: Yeah sounds good. I’ll have Nexus prepared. Text her when you’re ready.

He should have known you would hand it off to Nexus. You were avoiding him just as much as he was avoiding you.

MSG: Perfect.

He had no idea how he’d get through eighteen years of this, better yet, the rest of his life.

-Vixen-

If you fell apart over a few text messages how were you going to keep it together face to face? In the span of a week, you’d barely been able to keep it together. You focused on work and finishing the smaller details for the restaurant. Smaller details such as promo, publicity, interviews the things you hated. The paps were still running wild with the news of your and Chris’ situation. They hadn’t calmed down or slowed down with the narratives they spun.

One day the plausible theory was you were a gold digger who saw an opportunity, planned on it and pounced. They suspected you were the mechanics behind the motion to marry and even trapped him by purposely getting pregnant. Then the next day the hypothesis was the two of you were head over heels in love and got swept up in the moment and kept your marriage secret because Chris was ashamed of you because you were a nobody, and so far beneath him. In the span of a week, you’d heard so many possible narratives it was insane.

When you nor Chris made an effort to make a statement to confirm, deny or acknowledge the state of things then the viciousness began. They tried to paint you as the one who didn’t belong and would hurt him then when they brought up your race it drove you crazy. They wondered how in the world you got together said there was no indication Chris liked women like you. The fixation on your race was incredible, it shocked you, but it shouldn’t have. Chris was vocal with shutting down race talks and even went off a few times on some paps who just wouldn’t show any respect. It was a kind gesture one part of you appreciated but the other part hated feeling like you needed rescuing. You didn’t.

The more promo you did the more paps followed you. It was a tough adjustment, it still seemed highly invasive and creeped you out when you saw cars following you for a picture, or camped outside the restaurant or even when they found you doing normal things. It had gotten to the point where Kassius found it necessary to higher security for you no matter how much you protested. It was a rude awakening and another reason for you to hurry up and get the hell out of town. You were desperate for your real world, your normal life.

MSG Nexus: I’m here at his house. Do you want me to just leave them?

“You have to trust him with her at some point, right?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

MSG: You can leave them if you want. I have to trust him with her at some point.

MSG Nexus: Wow, okay. I’ll let you know.

You continued your work while keeping one eye on your phone. Ten minutes passed, then a message came in.

MSG Nexus: He asked me to stay. So we’re here at his house, having lunch. Ttyl.

-Chris-

God, she looked even bigger. It had been weeks since he saw her. He knew he missed her but didn’t fathom how much. The minute she saw him she wriggled free from Nexus’ arms into his. It felt good. From then she chattered and chattered never slowing or letting him get a word in. Since meeting her he’d gotten pretty good at understanding what she meant. For nearly forty minutes she didn’t want to be put down, she just wanted him to hold her and it was just fine by him. He could hold her the rest of his life and it wouldn’t be enough.

Across the way he saw Nexus scrolling through her phone occasionally while watching him. She barely spoke three words to him; he knew she was holding in quite a lot. He deserved her silent treatment; he didn’t debate it. He also didn’t know what to say to her, so he said nothing. He was tired, plain and simple.

They ate together and he watched as Ella acted silly. She was showing her sense of humor and he loved it. She was as silly and goofy as him. You were right she was a tiny replica of him. It was interesting looking at a walking, talking, breathing version of yourself, a smaller one. It filled him with pride that he could have had a part in creating her. Out of everything he’d ever done, this—she was the only good and right thing.

“I can’t stand the tension anymore.”

“What tension?” Nexus looked innocent and clueless.

“You are just like her, able to pretend and fake things that others cannot,” he informed.

“She is the master; I am but the apprentice.” He smirked and nodded.

“I’ll take that. I’ve always liked you Nexus. There is something about you that comes off as down to earth, kind, someone that is--.”

“Easily lied to?” He nodded then rubbed the back of his neck. She was right.

“I deserve that. I’m sorry.”

Nexus took a deep breath and released it. “You don’t. You didn’t fuck up my life. You just fucked up hers.”

“I did and I—regret it more than you’ll ever know. There is nothing I can say that’ll make it okay.”

“How do you plan on making it okay?”

He studied her, it was clear she either didn’t know what had happened in the last week or she didn’t think it mattered.

“There is no making it right, I’ve accepted that. Look, I don’t want to rehash things. To be honest I am tired of the back and forth of this. It’s been one hell of a couple weeks. I can’t keep doing this. It’s hard, tiring, painful.”

He didn’t realize he was babbling until he noticed Nexus was staring at him. She looked as if she were studying him trying to understand the inner workings of his mind.

“Thank you for bringing Ella by. I really missed her.”

“No problem. I understand. That kid of yours is easy to miss,” Nexus responded.

He stared at Ella as she played in the playroom he’d had designed. She looked like she loved it. How could she not? He’d put everything imaginable in there, it was a kid’s dream.

“She is.”

“Can I give you one word of advice on Vixen?”

He sighed but didn’t answer for a few moments. He then nodded.

“Never let her decide where you go. If you do that you won’t go anywhere. Her instinct is not geared toward connection, she loves her freedom, and any threat to it is met like a hostile invasion. She feels a lot more than she lets on.”

He scoffed and shook his head. He’d always thought there was way more going on inside you than you let on. He’d tried to figure you out, but you were always wearing a mask even when you weren’t.

“Well, she’ll have her freedom in no time. The divorce will be final in three months give or take.”

He stood and went over to Ella, reminding himself that she was his priority, his most important role.

After saying goodbye to Ella that evening he made a visit to his lawyers.

“It’s a good thing you came by Chris, I wanted to go over a few things. Have you and Vixen spoke about what you intend to do?”

“Uh, a little bit. I’m not here to talk about that though. I wanted to come by and just state some things. Sherman, I know you understand me as a person and know what I value and what I stand for. Max, you’re new to this team and I don’t hold anything against you, I just need you to grasp who I am as a person. Until then I want Sherman to take point with all of my legal matters.”

Max looked floored. “Even with what he did to get you in this predicament?”

“Yes. I trust him. So, if you don’t like it then there’s the door.” Max didn’t speak, he just sat and listened.

“Good. So to begin no matter where this leads, I want you both to know that I don’t want anything from her. Nothing at all. Whatever she had three years ago is hers, and everything she earned and accomplished since is solely hers.”

“Okay, that’s admirable. What about when it comes to you?”

“If she wants half give it to her. If it comes up and she wants to go after anything I own split it in the middle. I want this to be easy.”

“What!” Max was on his feet. “Chris, that’s insane. You’re worth millions. You’re really going to sacrifice half of that to some woman you married on a whim?”

“Yes.” It was a plain answer, one that was so simple it ended the discussion.

“I’ll handle it, Chris,” Sherman informed.

“Good. Also, regarding Ella, our daughter, I don’t want to go after custody, not even joint. Right now, there’ll be a lot for her to get used to and I don’t want to cause more damage than necessary. We’ll take it slow. I just want to be able to see her for a few hours when I’m able to in San Francisco. I just want access, Sherman.”

Max didn’t look like he approved but he sat silently.

“Got it, Chris. I’ll relay it to her council.”

“Thanks. You know how to reach me.” He stood and walked out the door. He really didn’t care anymore about everything he had before. He was seeing the world a whole lot differently now.

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

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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

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#love maybe fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #Chris Evans X black reader #chris evans smut #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic #black fanfiction

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ddaenggtan · 5 years ago

Text

from eden | myg + jhs

you've been in the dark a long time, overworked and exhausted. the only bright point is your gatekeeper, hoseok, your closest friend and the man you love but can't have. you've accepted that loneliness is inevitable for you. when a voice calls to you, though, and moves you so deeply that you rip open the earth to help them, you meet a mint-haired boy that changes everything you thought you knew about your prison. | monsters and gods pt 1 (masterlist)

pairing | yoongi x reader x hoseok

genre/warnings | greek god au, hades!reader, thanatos!hoseok, persephone!yoongi, fluff, angst, smut, mild depictions of violence, mentions of blood (well, blood equivalent, bc gods), pining, depictions of abusive parenting, v v brief panic attack (seriously, I don’t go into a ton of detail, but it’s enough, pls don’t read this if that triggers you at all), love triangle (kind of), polyamory, , mutual masturbation, oral (female receiving), face-sitting, fingering, dick-riding, double penetration, unprotected sex (gods can't get sti's but u can! Wrap it b4 u tap it!), creampie, everyone hates Zeus but what's new, demeter sucks and is the literal worst

word count | 15.6k | cross posted to ao3 monsters and gods masterlis

a/n | hello! i’ve renamed this fic at least ten times, but it’s here!! the first part of monsters and gods!!! i keep seeing hades!yoongi (who i LOVE, don’t get me wrong, seriously you should check out @/seokoloqy’s hades yoongi fics because they’re PHENOM) and while I love hades yoongs, I also keep seeing him in flower crowns and being soft and sweet and, as we know by now, I am ultimately a slut for soft bangtan. so this happened. and then i thought ‘wow this mc is dark af i need some contrast here’ and that’s how thanatos hobi happened, also i couldn’t stop thinking of his Judgement Face, which is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and how fast he switches between that and his smile, plus.....sope, I mean. c’mon. sope. and then it all kinda spiraled into a whole series of fics, only one other of which is even started tho its close to being finished whoops lmao so yeah!!!! pls tell me what u think, i’m not used to writing angst at all, so it may not be suuuuuuper prevalent in this, but i tried!!! also i really recommend listening to hozier while you read it bc i had his first album on repeat while writing it and from eden fits this pretty well imo!!!

It's dark when you open your eyes. You've spent so long down here, you're used to it, but the shadows always seem to make the air colder than it should be. Though you suppose the land of the dead isn't supposed to be warm.

You stretch and wince at the crick in your spine. Another night sitting at your desk, greek fire burning through the hours so that you can scratch away at the papers in front of you. Your siblings always enjoy doing whatever they want, using mortals and throwing them away however they please, cleaning up after each other whenever they can spare the time.

No one ever seems to think about you, nor do they remember the chaos up top only worsens your constant migraines.

No, instead they start their wars and slaughter their enemies and are absolutely oblivious about the fact that the Meadow is at 80% capacity as it is, with more souls arriving each day. Thanatos did well at his job, as did Charon, and you were always sure to be thankful to them, but you wish, not for the first time, that there was someone - anyone - to help with your work.

Your brothers have the naiads, the winds, and the lesser gods to help them with their oceans and skies. Gods of vengeance and retribution help with war, while the fertility goddesses and the muses aid the lovelorn.

And yet here you are, still alone after all these years. Millenia, you've been stuck down here, forced to live out your days in the cold darkness and manage the dead mortals. You've always been introverted, even before you drew lots with your siblings, but never like this. You've tried to leave, of course; at first making short visits to Olympus or the mortal realm, just to speak to another living soul again, someone else who understands what it's like to be trapped in your own life. It seems like every time you came back, though, the underworld had gotten smaller and smaller, nearly suffocating you in an attempt to keep its claws in your skin. And then, of course, came the curse.

You haven't felt the sun on your skin in nearly a thousand years, and while you've always been one for the shade, you miss it. You miss the smell of the flowers in the temples, you miss the sound of the river as it babbles past, you want to feel the warm summer breeze ruffle your hair as you stand in the middle of a marketplace. You're tired of the Fields, you're bored of walking the streets of Elysium with the weight of their stares at your back, sick of standing at the steps to the Isles and wondering if it is, truly, euphoric and if any mortal would ever find out. You don't wear your sandals around the palace anymore; you don't want to hear the footsteps echo. It's just a reminder that you are, truly, alone.

Even the other deities in the Underworld have stopped calling on you. The aura that surrounds you is enough to wilt most any plant, unnerve most every animal, and the gods are no exception. The only exceptions are Hecate, who makes it her personal mission to bribe you into visiting the Meadow if only for a moment, and Thanatos when he can slip away for longer than a moment to distract you from your work. They rarely succeed, but it's the thought that counts, you suppose.

You muse on this as you walk, bare feet skimming lightly over the soil of the Meadow as you make your way to the Gates. You could probably just shadow-walk, if you wanted, you do enjoy giving your Thanatos a fright, but you figure the walk would do you good. There’s no one to bother you as go, thankfully. The dead wander aimlessly around you. There's no acknowledgment as you pass; there's never any recognition of anything in the Meadow, the price mortals pay for being so utterly inconsequential and mundane.

You smile when you see that your friend is busy, and you give a silent command to Cerberus not to alert the man to your presence. The dog whines a little, but sits back on his haunches, shaking the ground as he does so. You're silent as you move up behind the judge.

"You wanted me to tell you my judgment and I have," Hoseok says firmly. "You could have gone straight to the Asphodel Meadow and existed in relative peace for eternity, and instead you request a hearing, and then have the gall to question my decision?" You grimace slightly; perhaps putting Hoseok in charge of judging the souls was not the best idea, but he has yet to be wrong about someone.

"Please, sir," The mortal whimpers. He's on his knees, suit crumpled and dirty where he sits. "I was only doing what I thought was best, please, surely that matters."

"You used children!" Hoseok says in shock. "As slaves! It's 2019 and you had nearly a hundred seven-year-olds sewing clothes together in a cramped warehouse with one bathroom. You seriously expect me to give you leniency because you thought that was best?"

"Their families would have starved without that money," The mortal says. He's on the verge of tears, which has always made you uncomfortable, so you stay hidden for now. "I kept them all fed and safe, didn't I? What would they have done without me? Gone to work in some factory, with dangerous machines and cruel managers, whipped every time they needed to eat?"

"You used children as nearly free labor, barely allowed them time to piss, fed them once every twelve hours, and you expect that to be okay because they could’ve had it worse," Hoseok says. Disgust drips from his voice and you’re inclined to agree with the sentiment. "I respect your opinion, but you are to be punished for your deeds fittingly." Hoseok snaps and two of the Bones come over. These two are in desert camo, one barely tall enough to be an adult judging by the skeletal build, but their grip is unforgiving as they cart the mortal off to the Fields. You don’t even need to mold together a punishment for him; the warehouse you sent others who’d done the same wasn’t quite crowded enough yet.

"Well, that was fun," You call, and delight at the way Hoseok jumps nearly a foot in the air. He glares at you as he turns and you don't bother to hide the smirk on your face. "Child slavery, huh? In this day and age?"

Hoseok tsks. "I know we used to allow some crazy shit back in the old days, but you'd think that people would know better by now. Using children like that, kids…” He trails off, still fuming, and you nod.

“I know.” You pull a piece of lint off his suit with a wrinkle of your nose. “You made the right decision if it helps.”

“I know I did,” He says with a smirk. “I always do.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, watching the lines of souls head through the gates to their eternal blandness. It's the best way to hide the flush he brings to your cheeks. “What brings you out here, though? Aren’t you supposed to be doing something important?”

“Don’t I wish,” You mutter. “All I’ve got to do is figure out how to expand the realm again without Zeus’ approval.”

“Wait, he didn’t approve the expansion?” You shake your head and step closer to where Cerberus is laying, all three heads focused entirely on you as you rub his middle nose. “Where does he think we’re going to put all of the souls, up your ass?”

“Clearly,” You spit.

“I know it’s not exactly great down here and that they would all rather be thrown into the Pit than visit, but they need to sometimes. If only to see what it’s like. I mean, honestly, what do they expect us to do, just toss everyone in the Meadow and call it a day until there are so many that they’re tripping into Elysium? What the f-”

“Thanatos,” You say quietly, and Hoseok stops. It’s not often that you call him by his title rather than his name, preferring the familiarity of his friendship over the detachment of your positions. “Even here, the gods have ears. You know better than to criticize them like that.”

He huffs but nods his head. You press a kiss to Cerb’s middle nose and coo at him until he starts wagging his tail. When you turn back around, Hoseok is stumbling to keep his balance on the shaking ground. You laugh, which he does not appreciate, but before he can say anything in his defense, another soul is escorted to him by a Bones. The guy is already pleading with Hoseok, who’s returned to the stony mask he usually wears. The silver aura that surrounds him always brings you comfort, reminding you of the moonlight that bathes the surface world, but it has turned colder and is as deadly as mercury. You envy the way he can switch back and forth between his professional mask and the bright, loving man you know; if only it were that easy for you. Without so much as a wave, you weave the shadows around you once more, ignoring the soul's cries to you for mercy, and let yourself disappear into the darkness.

When you emerge from the shadows, you settle at the base of your garden tree. The only living thing that would grow down here, the sole reminder of the world above. Its branches show that it should be close to the harvest soon, maybe a month away at the most. You reach up, weaving through the darkness to pluck a pomegranate from the tree. You don't even like pomegranates anymore, you think as you inspect it. Ripe, juicy, and utterly disgusting; the gods' idea of a joke. The thing that brought about your isolation, your solitude, yet it continues to be the only thing that grows in this wasteland.

You laugh bitterly before tossing the fruit up in the air, letting it fly through the shadows to land beside Hoseok, whatever he's doing. He always appreciates your little gifts, the only real thing you can do to show that you aren't cross with him and are glad for the work he does. He's long been stuck here with you, but the fruit doesn't turn to bile on his tongue the way it does yours. Perhaps the willingness he had that first time made a difference.

Please.

You glance around, looking for the voice that suddenly echoes around you. It's soft, a memory of a whisper. It's not rare for you to hear the voices of the dead in your realm, but this is different. This one strikes you to your core, for this…

This one sounds hopeful.

The prayers that make their way to you are never hopeful. They are sad or angry or scared, always filled with tears and regret and more than a little hesitancy, but never do they have any shred of hope in them.

You stand, eyes narrowed as you look through the darkness for whatever soul may be calling to you.

Please. I don't want to go back. Don't let her take me.

Without thinking, you reach into the shadows. The blackness swirls around your fingers, unsure where you're trying to go. You don't know yourself, and you wish you did. You aren't sure why you're doing this; you rarely answer prayers, least of all the ones that don't mention you specifically, but something in this voice calls to you. It resonates in your chest, shakes your very being because you remember that feeling. You remember the way it felt to be free, standing in the sun and clawing at the earth as Gaia dragged you back down to your post, tears mixing with the dirt as you pleaded, begged her not to take you back down there.

With a jerk, you pull the shadows apart, and the ground quakes above you. You watch, anxiety pooling in your gut, and it's only the intensity of your focus that lets you see it: a figure, falling limply through the earth that you've opened. The string of curses you let out would make even Ares blush, and it's with a rush you haven't felt in millennia that you weave the shadows together into a net and toss it upwards. The figure falls into it with ease, shadows wrapping around the body to glide gently downwards until they can deposit the person with ease at the roots of your tree.

Your breath catches in your throat as the darkness recedes, revealing soft mint hair with flowers woven into it, pale green robes that are sliced nearly in half at the back and caked with mud. The man is beautiful and soft and bright, every inch the antithesis to your own black and grey clothes. You hesitate to even look at him, too afraid of dulling that sun-kissed skin with the death you carry on your fingertips.

His brow furrows and he winces, though his eyes remain closed. You blink owlishly before guiding the shadows around him once more; when you're sure he's secure, you pull him along behind you until you reach the only spare room you have in the palace. You situate him on the bed there, fluffing pillows and smoothing blankets until you can almost pretend he fell asleep there of his own accord. With pursed lips, you assign three of your Bones to watch him; one just inside the door and two outside of it, just in case whatever he was running from attempts to come for him.

You don't want to leave him, but you have work to do, and the land of the dead cannot rule itself.

It's dark when he opens his eyes. There is Greek fire in the corner, and shadows dancing on the walls around it, but he cannot make out much else. When he sits up and slides his feet off what feels like a bed, he hisses. The marble is cold and unforgiving against the bare skin of his feet and he doesn't know of any feeling like it. He's too accustomed to the dirt and grass from his mother's domain, and even the white marble of Olympus was warm to the touch. This is different. Alarming. New.

He eventually works up the nerve to stand fully. Looking around, he doesn't see any kind of light sources other than the brazier in the corner, so he grips one of the coals in his palm and uses that bit of light to find the door. The fire tingles against his skin, but he's long since grown used to holding fire in his palms for his mother. The warmth is comforting for a brief moment before the image of his mother flashes through his mind. He flinches at the memory of her face, twisted with wrath, and the stone drops out of his grip before he can catch it.

The marble of the wall is cool against his back as he slides to the ground, knees brought up to his chest and his eyes screwed shut against the darkness. There's a vice around his chest and he can't breathe and he can't see and he doesn't have any idea where he is or if he's even alive or if she's stuffed him somewhere he'll never be able to escape and the thought makes his head spin as the air catches in his throat and gods don't even truly need to breathe and yet he can feel the cold claws of death tighten around his throat and all he can see in his final moments is the horrifying face of his mother's anger and he can feel the vines and roots around his ankles once more and-

"Who the hell are you?"

He looks up, pushing the sweat-covered hair out of his eyes. There's a man, in the darkness, who exudes a faint silver light around him that illuminates the walls and black marble floor. The man doesn't seem angry that he's there, or even all that surprised; just curiously resigned. There are so many questions on the tip of his tongue, so much he wants - needs - to know but only one makes it past the rock lodged in his windpipe.

"Am I dead?"

The man frowns and shakes his head. "I seriously doubt it, since you didn't cross the river." The man looks him over, taking in the flushed skin and sweat beads and the purple robes he donned the moment he decided to run and seems to decide something. He crouches down so he's eye level, poised on the balls of his feet with his elbows on his knees, and even in a full suit, he looks impeccably put-together. "I'm Thanatos. You can call me Hoseok. If you'll let me, I'd like to take you to someone who probably has a better idea of what you're doing here." All he can do is nod, and Hoseok extends a hand, which he uses to bring himself to a shaky stand.

"I'm Yoongi," He says, hesitant and quiet. "Um, I'm Kore. Or, Persephone. Either one."

"I think I'll stick with Yoongi," Hoseok says. His smile lights the hallway that Yoongi stands in, and it eases something inside him, though he isn't sure what. Hoseok doesn't let go of his hand as he guides Yoongi through the corridors, and talks to him the entire time. He speaks of his duties there, souls he's judged that day, ones he wished he could do more for, comforts Yoongi when a walking skeleton in Roman armor passes him and explains that those are the security force of the palace. By the time they make it to a large room, lit on each side with braziers of Greek fire that give the room an eerie glow, Yoongi has a fairly good idea of where he is, and who Hoseok is taking him to see.

The large ebony throne at the end of the room and the black-robed figure sitting atop it only confirms his fears.

When Hoseok enters the throne room, you're only slightly surprised. It wasn't entirely uncommon for him to take a break from his judicial duties, and so long as there were plenty of Bones to watch the gates, you had no issues. Years would sometimes pass before Hoseok needed to return, relieving the judgment council once more and returning them to their own afterlives.

To see him shadowed by the mint-haired boy you pulled through the earth, however, is a shock.

You set the papers you'd been writing at to the side. Your robes, woven from shadows and dipped in the Styx, swirl around your bare feet as you move to sit correctly with your back straight instead of lounging as you'd been doing before. The darkness you’d brought forth to cushion your chair, plump and fat and soft underneath you, shifts as well, keeping the hard edge of the marble from digging into your skin. Hoseok stifles a smile at the sight and you narrow your eyes at him. You wish he'd say something about it, the punk.

"What can I do for you, Hoseok?" You eventually ask as he and his companion reach the steps just below your throne. Even now, you can barely bring your eyes away from the boy behind him; he's radiant, the light in the room seemingly drawn to him despite the way he's slouched into himself.

"I was just wondering if you knew how this young man came to be in the underworld, my lady," Hoseok says. Your eyes dart back to him and you can't help the way your heart softens at the soft silver shine around him. You look to the mint-haired god again; his eyes dart around nervously as if he expects something to jump out at him, and he's close enough to Hoseok that if the other were to step back, they'd both likely fall to the floor.

You lean forward in your throne, doing your best to project a calm and friendly air to the shorter of the two gods. "Do you not remember?" You ask quietly. Your eyes don't leave his big brown ones, and you can see the moment the panic sets in. "It's fine, you don't need to answer me. Just know that you're safe here."

"Yoongi?" Hoseok says quietly, drawing the boy's attention. "Hey, it's alright. We're not gonna let anything happen." It takes several minutes but eventually the boy - Yoongi, apparently - nods. He hasn't relaxed at all, but he doesn't seem like he's about to bolt out of your throne room, so you consider it a success.

"You were praying," You tell him softly. "You asked for my help, so I gave it, as best I could. I don't think you meant for your words to reach me, but they did." Yoongi frowns ever so slightly as he takes in the knowledge. There's a hint of anxiety in his face, his brow furrowed adorably, but he doesn't startle when Hoseok rests a hand on his shoulder. He looks up, though, and the two of them seem to have a silent conversation. Something settles in your stomach, seeing the ease with which Hoseok interacts with him, and you swallow down the lump in your throat. It's ridiculous to feel anything like this; Hoseok is your subordinate and friend, and you've hardly known Yoongi for five minutes.

"He can stay here, right?" Hoseok asks. You look to Yoongi, wondering if he even wants to stay, if he even wants to be here at all or if he wished someone else had answered his prayers. Hoseok calls your name softly and your gaze flicks to him. "Can he stay?"

You find that you're debating with yourself. Yoongi clearly doesn't belong here; he is soft and sweet and gentle and completely at odds with the harsh, depressive atmosphere that lingers in your palace. He looks terrified even now as he takes in the room, eyes lingering on the bones that were fused together to make your throne. And yet...you cannot escape the fear and hope that had echoed in his prayer, the sheer desperation that someone would help him. He had been running and terrified, which could only mean that he was being chased by something or someone, and you couldn't force him out if he was in danger.

"If you would like to stay," You say after a moment too long, "Then you are, of course, more than welcome to do so." You rise from your throne, shadows dissipating as you do, and take a couple of tentative steps toward the pair. He doesn't shrink back in fear, which you take as a good sign. "The guest quarters will be yours to do with as you please. Hoseok can show you around the palace and grounds, so you don't get lost, and the Bones can bring you anything you require." You move to press a hand to Hoseok's arm, and you level him with a careful look.

"Of course, my lady," Hoseok says. He turns to Yoongi with a radiant smile. "And you can leave whenever you'd like."

"Of course," You agree quickly. "Hoseok can take you back and forth across the river as you wish. Charon can be quite fussy about it." Several times, your guests have been stuck on the wrong side of the river until someone brought your ferryman his payment. Yoongi looks slightly less terrified, and in the emerald glow of the fires, you notice how wide his eyes are. "Oh! You're from the surface, of course, I forgot."

With a snap of your fingers, the sconces along the walls light themselves, and the candles ringing the large chandelier in the center of your throne room surge to life as well. Yoongi startles a little, stepping closer to Hoseok.

"Ah, I forget you surfacers can't see as well down here," Hoseok mutters. "We'll get you a candlestick as well, just in case." He nods to you, Yoongi copying him in a most adorable way. They're halfway out of the room when a thought occurs to you.

"Yoongi?" You call after him. He turns, and the green halo around him makes your heart falter. "Don't eat the pomegranates. Not even the seeds." His brow furrows in confusion but he gives a hesitant nod before he turns and hurries after Hoseok.

As much as your chest aches for him, you won't subject him to this life. You watch him go and wonder how long he'll last in this hellscape.

When their shadows have long disappeared from the walls, you turn and retake your seat on the throne. With a wave, a small team of Bones appears in front of you - the same uniforms, with the same unit numbers, stamped on their dog tags, and the same haunted look where their eyes once were - and you do a quick count. Ten should do fine for what you need.

"Scour the earth. Do not speak to anyone. Find out what he was running from, and if it still searches for him. Don't let anyone see you, and don't let anyone know why you're looking. Return if you're in danger. Report to me immediately." They salute, and you watch their forms slowly disappear, becoming more and more transparent until they glide upwards and through the cracks in the ceiling.

You sit back and wonder how long it will take for you to get answers, and if it will be before or after Yoongi realizes he's too good for this place.

Yoongi is quiet. That's the first thing Hoseok notices about him. He doesn't initiate conversation, really, instead content to listen to Hoseok talk about the various souls he's judged and the occasional escape attempts someone has made. At first, when Yoongi speaks, he's quiet, like he doesn't really want - or expect - to be heard, and he always looks pleasantly surprised when Hoseok answers his question or responds to his comments.

It makes his heart ache, and he wonders what exactly Yoongi has gone through to make him so shocked that anyone would actually listen to what he has to say. It takes weeks for him to warm enough to Hoseok to start speaking more often, to ask questions about his day, to actually request specific things. The day Yoongi asked Hoseok, soft and hesitant, if he could show him the Meadow and the tree, Hoseok almost cried. Yoongi was so obviously ready to be told no, fully expectant for Hoseok to decline such a simple request, and it only reinforced Hoseok's need to give the god everything he could ever want.

"What are you doing, Yoongi?" Hoseok asks when he looks up. They're at the gates, Hoseok in the usual position, eyes roving over the lines of souls slowly shuffling forward, and Yoongi sitting nearby. Cerberus is curled up behind him, dwarfing the god with his massive body, all three heads snoring and slobbering as they sleep haphazardly on top of each other. Yoongi glances up at Hoseok as he grabs another flower from the basket beside him.

"I'm making Cerb some flower crowns," Yoongi answers as if it was obvious. Hoseok frowns.

"Flower crowns?" He echoes. "What's a flower crown?"

Yoongi gives him a disbelieving stare. "It's a bath salt. What the fuck do you think it is, Hobi? It's a crown made of flowers." Hoseok is caught off guard by the sarcasm, as he has been every time Yoongi has spouted off some kind of sass to him. He strides over and crouches beside the mint god to watch him.

Yoongi's fingers are sure and steady as he weaves the stems of the flowers together. It's already half-dozen, Hoseok thinks, the crocus blossoms blending together prettily and not straying in the slightest from where he places them. Hoseok hasn't ever seen anything like it, and he's entranced by the way Yoongi's fingers move and the way the flowers seem to just do whatever he wants without much coaxing on his part.

"I had the Bones bring me back a basket from their last excursion," Yoongi says. "Since none grow here." He stops with one last crocus and eyes it critically before apparently deciding it was good enough. Hoseok can't take his eyes off the thing, enraptured even as Yoongi sets it gently on his head. Hoseok can feel his eyes widen and his cheeks flush red.

"Thanks," He says after a second, one hand darting up to steady the crown as he shifts his weight. He smiles, unable to help himself and poses. "What do you think? Does it suit me?"

"Ugh, you wish," Yoongi says. Hoseok can see the smile in his eyes and is satisfied with the mirth threatening to bubble past Yoongi's lips.

"Y'know," Hoseok says after a while, hands in his pockets as he watches Yoongi make the second crown for Cerb. "I bet if you planted some seeds near the pomegranate tree, they'd grow." Yoongi's hands stop moving, his eyes drifting up to look past Hoseok. Something similar to excitement hides behind his eyes, and Hoseok wants nothing more than to bring it out to shine. Yoongi cocks a brow as if to say 'really' and Hoseok nods.

The gummy smile he gets in return, full of hope and light that the underworld hasn't ever seen before, is well worth the potential scolding you may give him for suggesting Yoongi fiddle with the tree's courtyard. And the way he keeps the flower crown nearby, hanging off a hook on the gates long after the blossoms have wilted and died, is worth the shy smile Yoongi gets every time he sees it.

You don't see Yoongi for the first few weeks he's there. Not really. You catch glimpses when he passes through the palace halls with Hoseok, and he sits with Cerberus while you visit Hoseok at the gates, but he makes no effort to seek you out, and you respect that distance. You can't bring yourself to force your company on him. You're an acquired taste; Hoseok has been in this realm for so long that he's accustomed to the darkness that follows you, the aura of death and despair that usually surrounds you. He's been surrounded by the dead almost as long as you have, so you know he can't be affected by it. Yoongi, though…

Yoongi is life. He's the springtime blossoms in a summer breeze, he's the sound of birds chirping in the treetops, he's vibrant and fresh and lovely and you cannot ruin that. You can't watch him wither away like a winter garden, you can't watch the color drain from his skin until he's just as much a ghost as the souls that wander the Meadow, you can't let him become just as dead as everything else in this cursed place.

So you leave him be. You offer curt nods when you see him with Hoseok and polite waves because giving any more of yourself to him without letting yourself get closer would be too dangerous. Even with the distance you keep, your chest tightens with every smile that graces his lips, you ache to hear his voice even just once, and it's too much. It's too much for someone you haven't even had a real conversation with. Someone who looks at you with apprehension and anxiety, yet brings undeniable joy to the man you've always held in your heart.

It's too much for you to feel like this for someone who makes Hoseok smile as if he's seeing sunlight for the first time in thousands of years. You love Hoseok too much to stand anywhere near them.

You've been avoiding both of them for days. You can't bear to see Yoongi's gummy smile and Hoseok's adorable dimples as they gaze at each other, and you're busy enough to make a decent excuse for it. Expansion isn't difficult, but keeping it quiet is. Plus you've been on the hunt to figure out what had been after Yoongi with such ferocity that it sliced right through his robes and had him praying to anyone who would listen.

You had a few helpful leads, but nothing concrete, and it was more than a little frustrating. Which is why you find yourself stepping out of the shadows of the pomegranate tree, hopeful that it could help to ease even just part of the emotions rolling in your gut.

The sight of Yoongi surprises you, even more so when you see that he's on his knees beside the tree with dirt covering his hands and a smidge of something on his cheek. He looks absolutely wondrous, like everything you've been missing from the world above, and it would bring tears to your eyes if you let it because he's so far out of your reach.

"Hi," You say after a long debate with yourself. Yoongi's head shoots up and he fixes wide eyes on you. He reminds you of the ones who come to you with no memory of what's happened to them, scared and alone and about to get the worst news of their lives. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," He says immediately. "I didn't mean to, not really. You just said not to eat them, and I'm not, so I thought it would be okay. Hobi suggested it and you two are so close that I figured he'd know if you'd be upset."

"I'm not upset." Your voice is as gentle as you can make it. "I'm just curious. Hoseok didn't mention anything to me, and no one really comes here."

"Oh." The relief is palpable as it courses through him, and he looks back down at the ground in front of him. "I'm just planting some flowers so I can make more crowns for Hobi and Cerb. The others died so fast, and I don't want to keep sending the Bones out to get more if I don't have to."

"Oh, you made the flower crown for Hoseok?" You'd figured as much. No one else in the underworld knew how to make them, and Yoongi was the only consistently around him. "He showed me that, it was gorgeous."

"Obviously, it was made by me, after all," Yoongi spouts. You gape at him, and he gives you a contrite grimace. "I'm sorry, my lady Hades, I forgot who I was with for a moment. It won't happen again."

"It should," You say before you can stop yourself. He glances at you curiously. "I don't mind if you're relaxed and casual around me. I've never been one to enforce the rules that Olympus has. Hoseok is proof enough of that. And you can use my name, I don't mind."

The way he whispers your name, almost as if he's practicing it to himself, makes your heart flutter in your chest. It's so dangerous to be around him like this, relaxed and casual; it's so easy to forget that it's Hoseok that gets this, that deserves this small piece of sunshine.

"Well," Yoongi eventually says. "In that case, you can get to work. I've got an entire basket of seeds left to plant around this thing, and I can only work so fast. Plus I'm getting hungry."

"Oh. Okay, show me what to do." You don't hesitate to mirror his position, robes bunching under your knees in the dirt as he points at the small holes he's carved out of the dirt with the trowel and rake the Bones nabbed for him.

Yoongi is patient, you learn. Not extremely so, but he walks you through what you need to do with clear directions. The seeds are small in your hands, which amuses you to no end, and there's an odd delight in packing the soil around them and dripping water down onto them after. You're smiling for the first time in...you don't know how long, and the feeling of Yoongi's hands around yours as he shows you how to use the trowel is something akin to paradise.

His hands are rough; calloused and weathered and wonderful against the softness of your own. You start to talk freely to him, asking him about each seed you plant and what they are and how they look. He tells you about each one, the deep timbre of his voice like music to your ears. He rolls his eyes at every joke you make, despite the way he smiles, and hits back with several quips of his own. He listens as you tell him, voice shaking, about the pomegranate tree, and how it curses anyone who eats its fruit to stay trapped in the underworld forevermore. He talks and listens and jokes and laughs and it's only after you've made a particularly ridiculous joke that you realize your mistake.

"You've spent too much time around Hobi," Yoongi says. "He made the same joke yesterday." He's looking down at the last few seeds, plotting where in the courtyard to put them, and doesn't see the way the smile dies on your face. You'd forgotten. For a brief time, you'd forgotten that this is just pretending.

You don't get to keep this. You don't get to stay here, in this courtyard, with Yoongi and his rough hands and the mint hair that falls in his eyes and his gummy smile. This isn't yours. You don't get flower crowns and jokes and soft kisses, no matter how much you want them, just like you don't get Hoseok's bright grin or his dimples or his long fingers intertwined with yours. Your heart aches for these two beautiful boys, both of them everything you could ever want in so many different ways. And yet you have neither of them, you don't get either of them. They are each other's, and there is no room there for the death you bring in your wake. You kill everything you touch; the mortals whisper about the cold grip of your hands on their neck as they pass over.

You look back over the seeds you've helped Yoongi plant and wonder how many you've killed before they even lived.

You stand and brush the dirt off your robes. "Well," You say, careful to keep your voice level. "I've got some things to do. I trust you'll be alright on your own." You can't bring yourself to look at Yoongi, can't bear to see the dirt that smudged along his cheek, can't stand to see the way the orange robes drape along him and remind you of the way the autumn leaves looked coating the grass in the meadows.

He doesn't even get a response out before you flee, but you feel his eyes on your back long after you've hidden in the shadows and sunk down onto your bed.

It's astounding, you think as you rinse the dirt off your hands later, how a single afternoon planting seeds with someone can be so detrimental to the walls you'd put around your heart. Tears blur your vision and your fingers are trembling, but you keep scrubbing until the phantom slide of his hands against yours is gone and there is no more evidence of the planting you'd done. When you finally stop, your skin is raw and throbbing, and there are tears running down your face.

You had long accepted that Hoseok could never be yours. You were in two different positions, and he was much too bright to want to be with someone like you. Your shadows would have suffocated him, so you resigned yourself to being his friend. Friend is safe. Friend is good.

You’d known the same when you met Yoongi. Bright and colorful amidst the darkness of the underworld, you wouldn’t dare to get any closer to him, too familiar with the fluttering of your chest and the jumping in your stomach every time you saw him. Just being friendly was enough, ensuring he is safe and happy is fine with you.

But this? Watching the two of them grow closer and closer, able to love each other so wholly while you stand alone in your darkness, watching their bright smiles and soft looks, all directed only at each other, for eternity? This was too much for you to bear. Being hopelessly in love with one man you can’t have is bad enough, but two of them…

You wish for the first time that you were not immortal, but a meager human upon the surface, unaware and blissful in your ignorance.

He never expected this. Not from the moment he woke up, not when he was sprinting through a forest to escape his mother, not for a single heartbeat could he ever imagined everything that has happened to him since he arrived in this cold land.

He’s been alone for so long, hidden away in his mother’s garden with only the rare visit from Artemis or Hestia as he learned how to do anything and everything his mother wished. He’s never had friends before, he’s never had the subtle inside jokes that he shares with Hoseok, familiar enough that even just a quick glance can have them both bursting with laughter. He’s never known a goddess like you, able to weave together the darkness into something tangible, something useful, something real. It’s like nothing he’s ever seen, and Hoseok’s uncanny ability to bend the environment around him and use his silvery aura to turn almost invisible to the naked eye never ceases to amaze him. The two of you are so powerful, so utterly awe-inspiring, and every single thing his mother had told him is so far from the truth that it almost hurts.

Neither you nor Hoseok is standoffish, really; he can see the hesitant friendship in every smile you send his way, and Hoseok’s primary concern at any moment is making sure he’s happy and safe. It warms Yoongi in a way he could never explain, not even in a million years, simply because he’s never felt this way. In all the books he’s read, the plays he’s seen, every mortal he’s watched, he’s seen this.

He’s seen how they turn red with just a look, how their hearts stutter when hands brush, how they smile, soft and private when they think no one is looking at them. He’s seen this feeling, the bubbling in his chest that he gets every time Hoseok laces their fingers together while walking and the moment you step into the courtyard and see the kaleidoscope of colors that you helped plant. He never would have guessed that he would feel it, though, too isolated from the rest of the world until he came here. Until you pulled apart the earth itself to help him escape, without even knowing why or who he was.

The feeling grows inside of him, thorns pricking into his every breath because he knows it can’t last. He’s seen how you and Hoseok look at each other when you think no one is watching, can feel the pull between you and the years upon years of familiarity that lie between you. The two of you are closer than he could ever get, two sides of the same coin, and more suited to each other than he would ever be.

And he can’t stay.

That’s the worst part. He knows it, knows that she will find him before long and wrap her claws around his throat and drag him back into that gilded cage she calls a greenhouse just to leave him. It’s for the best, my dear, she’ll say, it’s to keep you safe.

Yoongi doesn’t want to be safe, though. He wants to be happy and free, and he’s found that place here, surrounded by death even as he carves out his own little area of life. With Hoseok’s warm grin across from him and your own cool fondness beside him. With flower crowns atop his head and Hoseok’s, and the small buds are woven into your own crown of bones and grief as a small reminder that even in death, there is life.

But she will find him. She always does. And though he cannot bear the thought of leaving you, he will, if only to keep you safe.

Yoongi's been there almost a year when you summon Hoseok to dine with you. By the time he gets to your office - a very understated term for the sprawling library - you're already sitting at your usual desk, food pushed aside and forgotten in lieu of the papers stacked in front of you. Even with your head bent low and bags under your eyes, you're the most beautiful person Hoseok has ever seen.

He remembers the first time he met you when Zeus had assigned him to be the gatekeeper for the underworld. You were so young, so skittish and worried that you were going to be a terrible ruler as if the dead could be disappointed in you. You'd been beautiful then, too, but not in the same way. You've grown into yourself since then; you're no longer afraid of being a bad queen. You know that you're competent and capable, you know you can do this, and you frequently prove wrong any Olympian who says otherwise. You're mature now; strong and confident and brilliant, and even with the bags under your eyes and the shadows that lick lovingly against your skin, you are absolutely radiant.

Hoseok is so in love with you that it physically hurts him, and every time he looks at you, he is reminded of how you are just out of his reach.

He clears his throat and you look up. The tired smile that graces your face warms him, and he settles into a chair on your left with practiced ease. This isn't the first time you've asked him to dine with you, and it won't be the last.

"What's the occasion?" He teases, delighting in the way you roll your eyes and gesture to the food and nectar that sits in front of him.

"How is Yoongi?" You ask. It doesn't escape him that you don't answer, but you always have your reasons, so he doesn't call you on it.

"Well. He wanders around on his own and doesn't seem to jump at the slightest sound anymore. He came with me the other day when I judged and managed to pick fifteen people for Elysium in a row." An expression passes over your face that he can't decipher. He continues anyway. "He still won't talk much about what happened, but he also doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry to leave. I imagine he'll get bored eventually, and we'll need to give Cerb extra treats when he does, but I'm not concerned just yet."

You nod and Hoseok starts to eat as you rifle through a few more papers. "You know he's Persephone?" You ask, and Hoseok nods. He'd forgotten to share that knowledge with you, but clearly, you had your own way of finding things out. "So then you're aware that his mother is Demeter."

Hoseok pauses for a minute. He swallows the food in his mouth and really looks at you for the first time since he sat down. The bags under your eyes are more prominent, and you're wearing your Hades expression. The one that stays professional and controlled and tells people nothing of your true thoughts. Well, people that haven't known you for more than a thousand years.

"Hoseok, he can't stay here forever," You eventually say. "She's been looking for him everywhere. The humans' crops are ruined, ice and snow have covered the earth, more people are dying than we can hold right now. She won't stop."

"And that means we kick him out?" Hoseok hisses. You close your eyes and he can feel the sigh you're holding back. "You said yourself that he could stay as long as he wants. You can't just rescind that because some wheat goddess is going on a rampage. We still don't know what he was running from, or if it's still out there, and I won't watch him-" He stops, frozen by the way you're pressing your tongue into the side of your cheek. It's the only tell you have and he rarely sees it, because you rarely keep things from him. "What do you know?"

You don't answer, and he repeats the question, louder this time, as he surges out of his chair.

"I was running from her," Yoongi's voice echoes through the library. You and Hoseok both turn to see him standing in the door, and Hoseok's heart swells at the sight. He's in soft, muted pink robes that Hoseok knows he made himself. His cheeks are rounder, and he's no longer curled in on himself. He looks stronger. Confident. Unafraid. "I was running from my mother. That's what you found out, right?" Hoseok looks to you, and the regret in your eyes just confirms it.

"I'm sorry, Yoongi, I was only trying to make sure you were safe, I didn't mean-"

"It's alright," Yoongi says as he moves to run his hand along your cheek. "I know." He smiles at you. Hoseok looks between the two of you - Yoongi's hand resting lightly on your cheek and a soft smile on his lips while his eyes crinkle with rare happiness, your own eyes wide and full of what can only be described as pure, unadulterated love - and his stomach rolls violently. Even after all the time Hoseok has spent with you, and with Yoongi, and the times he's entered a room to find the two of you in comfortable silence, he never expected this. He should've, he realizes; the two of you are a perfect match, complementing each other to near perfection, each fault being smoothed over by the other's strengths.

How could he have thought you wouldn't fall in love with Yoongi? Soft, kind Yoongi, who had just enough snark inside of him to make every word out of his mouth an unexpected joy. Yoongi who braids flower crowns with the flowers he's started to grow in the courtyard, surrounding the pomegranate tree with the beautiful blooms. Yoongi, who encourages Hoseok to judge more and more souls, ones that don't request it, who can somehow pick the good people from the bad just by looking.

And how could he have ever expected Yoongi not to fall for you? Strong and intelligent, determined and kind. You who opened your home to him in his most vulnerable moment and never expected anything in return. You who did everything in your power to find what was chasing him, and find a way to stop it. You, with your lonely smile and your bare feet. You, who Hoseok himself has been in love with for tens of thousands of years.

How could he have expected either of you not to fall in love in the months that you have known each other when Hoseok couldn't even stop himself?

“I’ll go back to her,” Yoongi says softly, finally dropping his hand from your cheek and turning the radiant smile on Hoseok. “She’ll have no reason to continue this if I return.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Yoongi,” You say immediately. ““You were desperate to get away from her, and...what she almost did to you, that’s unacceptable.”

“Let her rage,” Hoseok agrees. “You’re safe here, no one can get to you without getting through the two of us first, not to mention Cerberus and the Bones. No nature goddess will last in this place, not with our full force around you.”

“Thank you, Hobi, but no. I can’t ask you both to do that, not when it could end so badly for you. You don’t know what she can do, it’s not-”

“You aren’t asking us,” You say. Your voice is as quiet as always, but there’s a firmness there that Hoseok recognizes. It’s usually saved for the throne room when some mortal has been particularly annoying or stubborn, and it’s a shock to see it directed at Yoongi. “We are offering. Let us protect you, Yoongi. At least let me speak with Zeus about this. I may be able to convince him to intervene.”

Yoongi hesitates, the indecision is written all over his face, and Hoseok leans to lace their fingers together. It’s a familiar gesture, done so often to prevent Yoongi from getting lost that it’s second nature at this point.

“Please,” Hoseok pleads when Yoongi looks at him. “Please, Yoongi.”

The reluctant nod is all the confirmation needed. You’re already scribbling out a summons for Hermes to carry to the lord of the gods, and Hoseok is halfway through the halls to reinforce the gates and ensure Cerberus knows his task. He tries not to think about the way Yoongi lingered behind, one hand on your shoulder as he watched you write and the other caressing the flower-riddled braids he’d made earlier that day.

He doesn’t think about it, because in the end, it doesn’t matter. Hoseok is so deeply in love with the two of you, so grossly enamored, that he would go to the end of time itself if it meant keeping the two of you safe and happy. Even if that meant watching you love each other and not him.

“What do you mean, he won’t help?”

You massage your temples without looking up from the letter Zeus had sent back with Hermes. He was, unsurprisingly, not helpful. Hoseok had appeared not long after the messenger had left, and is, also unsurprisingly, irate.

“According to him, he has no dog in this fight, because Yoongi isn’t his son, he’s Demeter’s, and if he were to get involved, he’d side with her since the humans are dying so quickly, which isn’t exactly good for worship numbers.”

“Are you kidding me? He seriously said he’d take her side in this?”

“Not in so many words, but yes. And I get it, Hobi. His job is to keep the peace between everyone in Olympus, and without actually coming here to give me an audience, all he has is Demeter’s side of the story.”

“Which is?”

“That I kidnapped her son and am currently holding him captive in a dungeon down here.”

“That’s absurd. He’s not captive at all, he’s happier here than he ever was up there, and you didn’t kidnap him!” You give a slight nod to show that yes, Hoseok, you’re aware of the truth. “Does he know what she does to him? How she treats him?”

“Hoseok, please,” You mutter. The weight of Zeus’ words is like a blade against your throat and you want nothing more than to help Yoongi. Clearly, the Fates have decided against that. “You know how he is. Do you honestly think he’d care? She has a claim to him, despite what he wants, and unless we find a way to get Zeus down here or go there ourselves, our lord won’t be able to hear any other side of this story.”

“Then we’ll...we’ll go there! We’ll make them listen! You could talk sense into him, make him see that he needs to help.”

“You know I can’t do that, Hobi.” Hoseok flinches, as if just remembering that you are as captive here as the souls you keep. You’re glad, not for the first time, that Death Itself cannot be contained, so that Hoseok, at least, is free to come and go as he pleases. “And before you say it, no, we can’t ask him to go. It isn’t safe. The second he sets foot outside this realm, she’ll pull him back. We’re lucky that he hasn’t already told her where Yoongi is.”

Your statement is punctuated with a muffled thud, and the anxiety that runs through you is mirrored in the look Hoseok gives you. Another thud echoes through the palace, the ground rumbling under your feet, and you stand.

“Where is he?” You ask, already pulling the shadows around you.

“Just past the gate, walking through the Meadow. If we hurry-”

“Go.” You disappear into the blackness, never more glad that Hoseok can sense the living in your land. When you step away from the shadows, Yoongi is there, confusion written across his face and fear in his eyes. “You have to run.”

“No,” He says. “I’m not going to keep running from her. I’m staying here, she can’t take me back.”

“Yoongi, please,” You beg. He’s too vulnerable here, too open, too easily seen with his spring green robes billowing around his feet and flowers woven into a crown atop his head. He takes your hands in his and pulls you close, and you’ve never seen a fire like this in him. It burns hot and strong and it makes your chest ache for what could have been.

“I won’t let her hurt you while I hide away like a coward,” He whispers. His thumb wipes away tears you didn’t know were there, and determination floods through you.

"Please, Yoongi. Let us help you. Let me help you. I-" The words choke in your throat, but Yoongi nods as if they made it out.

"I love you, too." His voice is soft, barely audible over the shaking ground and the deafening sound of hooves slamming into your gates. You feel more than see Hoseok land beside you, and his hand rests on the small of your back without hesitation.

"Take him," You tell Hoseok. "Go to the palace. You'll be safe there. Don't let him leave."

Hoseok's eyes are fire-bright as he wraps an arm around Yoongi's waist. The god's protests fall on dead ears, even as you let your hands brush over the softness of Hoseok's ink black wings. Just one moment, that is all you want, just one single second to pretend.

"I'll see you after, my lady," Hoseok says firmly. You don't have the heart to correct him, nor the time, so you just nod. Yoongi's screams echo in your ears even as you turn, the blackness that lingers at every corner of your realm swirling around your feet and ready to be whatever you need. You let one last year fall from your eyes as the gates crumple, and the furious eyes of Demeter fixate on you and the black-winged figure carrying her son away.

Hoseok flies faster than he ever has, determined to get Yoongi into the palace and relative safety. The god sobs in his arms, still struggling to get back to where you stand in the Meadow, the massive form of Demeter towering above you, but Hoseok doesn't relax his grip. You gave him an order; he hadn't disappointed you yet, and he isn't about to start now. Not with Yoongi caught in the middle.

He doesn't hesitate when he touches down in the palace, wings retracted and brushing ever so slightly against the black marble floor. He turns to the nearby Bones and orders them to the doors, summoning as many others as he can spare from the gates and Fields to help barricade the palace from the goddess.

"Hobi, you have to go, you have to help her," Yoongi sobs. "She's gonna...I can't, Hobi, please, you have to keep her safe."

"I have to keep you safe," Hoseok replies. He's got a vice grip around Yoongi's arm as he pulls him deeper into the palace, doing his level best to avoid any window or door to the outside. "That was the order she gave and that's the order I shall obey."

"How can you say that?! Don't you care that she could-"

"Of course I care!" Hoseok spits, rounding on the shorter god the second the words leave his lips. "Do you think this is easy for me, Yoongi? Do you think I enjoy choosing between the two of you like this? Because I don't. I want nothing more than to be helping her right now, but I can't...I can't leave you alone here. It's too dangerous."

Hoseok isn't stupid; he knows exactly how he feels about you, and Yoongi, and he's not oblivious to the way the both of you look at him. Still, the two of you are powerful deities, worshipped and loved, feared and prayed to. He's just a guardian, content to sit in the background and watch for threats. Yes, he loves you, with every fiber of his immortal soul, but he also loves Yoongi, and he knows you love Yoongi, and you gave him an order.

"Hobi," Yoongi whispers, eyes wet and red and beautiful. "Hobi, please, you have to help her. She needs you. I can manage, I can hide, but she needs you. No one else can help her."

The fact that he's even considering this shows just how easy it is for Yoongi to manipulate him. Hoseok understands now, what you meant all that time ago. Yoongi's voice is rough and lingering and fearful but it carries so much hope that it digs into Hoseok's skin like a hook. He curses and bundles Yoongi into the corner.

"Stay hidden. Don't make a noise. You can't let her find you." Hoseok hesitates for a split second before pressing a quick kiss to Yoongi's forehead. "I will see you after this."

"I know."

It's never been harder for him to turn his back on someone, but Hoseok manages, with only one last look back before he takes to the air and surges forwards to where you stand, keeping Demeter back with every piece of your power.

Yoongi runs. He runs and runs and runs, the bare skin of his feet silent on the cool marble. The braziers have long since gone out, but he stopped needing them months ago. He knows where he is, even as he tucks himself into a small, nearly invisible niche in a corner. He hardly dares to breathe, too scared that the sound will alert his mother of his location. The palace is silent, not a single sound in the entire thing, and it's deafening in the aftermath of the rumbling screams that signaled your battle with her.

He isn't sure how he managed to convince Hoseok to leave him, whether it was the obvious love the god felt for you or the sheer desperation in his own eyes, but he could only pray the two of you made it out. As gods, you're all difficult to kill, but it's not impossible. Not for other deities.

Come out, little flower.

Yoongi stifles a whimper, panic coloring his vision white for a long while before he can breathe again. Memories flash behind his eyelids and he pried them open just to stare into the darkness.

You can't hide forever, little flower. You know that.

Her voice echoes against the marble. It makes her sound like she's everywhere and nowhere at once, able to find him even as he hides. He clenches his teeth and reminds himself that you and Hoseok are the only ones that know this palace better than him.

You're making me very angry, little flower. Why do you run? I only want the best for you, and you insist on causing such a fuss.

The sound of her sandals reaches him, reverberating off the walls and telling him that she's far too close. He slips silently out of the niche and pads across the floor on the balls of his feet. He doesn't make a sound, something he perfected in his time with her, and just as she slips around the corner, he's darting down another hallway.

Look at what you've done, little flower. All this mess, and for what? Do you like it when I'm angry? Do you enjoy this game of ours?

He slips into another hall just in time. Exhaustion has made him slow. The marble of the wall is cool against his heated skin, and he wonders where you are. Where Hoseok is. If you're alright or if you're laying in the Meadow, golden ocher pooling around you. The thought enrages him, and for the first time, he can feel power at his fingertips; real power, not the simple gardening magic she taught him as a child. He's ready to use it, he thinks. He's so tired of running, so tired of being afraid, and he's so fucking angry that the people he loves have had to fight his battles for him.

Found you, little flower.

Warmth circles his ankle and pulls before he can jerk away. Her nails are sharp than before, like sickles at the end of each long finger, and he scrabbles uselessly at the smooth stone floor. She's speaking but the sound of her voice - wind whispering through a field of wheat, a brook babbling in the summer - is drowned out by the blood pumping in his ears.

"No, I won't go back, you can't make me," He hisses, kicking at her hand with his free leg. He doesn't feel the cuts on his soles, doesn't register them at all until he sees the gold dropping onto the floor; the adrenaline masks the pain. She says something else and he stops kicking, though he doesn't know what she's said. He isn't listening, too busy thinking of a way out of this.

It comes to him, all at once, and he relaxes in her grip. His chest heaves in a sob, because he knows exactly what he has to do, and you will never forgive him for it.

"Alright," He says flatly. Demeter stops in her monologue. "I'll go with you. Just leave them alone." The smile that splits her face is more grotesque than any corpse he's seen in the Styx, but the way she releases his ankle is a blessing. He keeps himself hunched and downtrodden as he pushes himself up, into her waiting arms. The hug is bruising and brings vile to his throat, but it is necessary.

It's with a flash of green as he pulls away from her that he makes his move. The flower crown previously atop his head has morphed, grown into thick, thorny vines around her arms and keeping her in place.

Yoongi is gone before she can so much as screech, sprinting as fast he can through the halls to the one thing that can help him. He feels it when she rips through his flowers, his very soul shaking at the pain that rips through him, but he's determined. He's made good ground, he only had a little further to go.

The vibrant colors of the courtyard have never felt so welcome. He's halfway through, blossoms crushed under his feet as he tears through the carefully tended flowers, when she catches up. The blade of her scythe rips through his back, but the adrenaline masks the pain. He's bleeding, he knows, but he can't bring himself to focus on anything but the way the bark feels under his grip, branches reaching down to help him reach his goal.

She tears him out of the tree violently, no longer wearing the carefully sculpted mask of love. The scream that she unleashes when she sees him shakes the entire realm, soft pebbles falling from the ceiling of the cavern miles above his head, but he doesn't care.

The pomegranate is ripe against his tongue, juice tinting his lips pink, and the weight of it against his chest has never been more welcome. Demeter screams for what could be centuries, but Yoongi does not care, because he has won, and he has never tasted anything so sweet in his entire life.

"Come to bed," Hoseok pleads, not for the first time. You look at him with a sigh. His wings are gone, hidden away until he needs them again, and his arm is free of the bandages he's been wearing. It has taken so long for him to heal, and you still aren't sure he should be up and about. There's a small, barely perceptible scar along his forearm, the faintest reminder of what the two of you survived.

"I have to finish this before he returns, Hobi," You tell him, also not for the first time. Hoseok scoffs and comes around the desk to stand behind you, eyes roving over the documents in front of you.

"It's been over six months," He whispers in your ear. "Zeus has approved your expansion requests. I'm fine. You're fine. Yoongi will be back from Olympus soon."

"Hoseok," Your tone is warning despite the way he whispers your name. You deflate, falling back in your chair and letting him rub your shoulders. "I just miss him."

"I know. I do too." You're both quiet for a while. It has been six months since Demeter crashed into your world and rampaged through the Meadow to find Yoongi. You remember it so vividly, the way you struggled against the unbridled fury she had, the way Hoseok screamed as she broke his wing, the pain in your chest as you'd crawled to him and just held him in your arms until the Bones had made it to the two of you and carried him to the palace.

You had been, and still are, vastly proud of him and Yoongi for fighting back, but that didn't change the fact that they had both put themselves in immense danger by doing so. Even with the - admittedly brilliant, if stupid - plan that Yoongi had come up with, things never really worked out for you. Hoseok had been bedridden for weeks, unable to even more because of the pain in his wing. Hermes has helped with the healing process, which you were unendingly thankful for, but Yoongi had been carted off to Olympus almost immediately for negotiations.

Zeus, benevolent leader and incompetent moron that he is, had decided on a compromise: Yoongi would stay with you in the underworld after the harvest was finished, free to do whatever he liked, but until then he had to stay in Olympus. The letter had mentioned something about reparations to the mortals for the utterly obscene amount of crops they had lost - which was ridiculous really, they were doing their level best to kill the planet and you are gods, since when do gods pay reparations to mortals? - that Yoongi was required to use his abilities to help with.

You'd sent Hermes back with several colorful threats of what exactly would happen to the billions of dead you kept here should Yoongi return in any way other than utter perfection, and you've been anxious for days to find out whether you get to follow through on them. It only worsens when you remember that you have a decision to make when Yoongi returns. You remember the way he looked when he said he loved you, returning words you couldn't bring yourself to say, and you remember the elation and subsequent depression that came after the battle at the realization that you could have had him, were he not gone for half the year.

And yet you also distinctly remember the way Hoseok looked, wings splayed over several tables to hold them in place as they healed, vulnerable and shy as he told you that he was sorry for disobeying you. You won't ever forget his face as he explained, the way his lips formed around your name when he told you he couldn't beat to see you hurt, not after so many years spent loving you. The feel of his lips against your skin is like a phantom even now; Hoseok had waited until he was healed to do anything more than press chaste kisses against your knuckles, and even still you've not felt him the way you want, but it hasn't stopped him from trying.

"Come on, my lady," Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Just for a while." You grumble under your breath - you really do have work to finish before Yoongi arrives - but you allow Hoseok to pull you from your chair and lead you down the hall to your bedroom.

So lost in your own musings, you don't notice the figure lounging on your bed until he speaks.

"Six months and I don't get even so much as a hello?"

Your eyes shoot up and your breath hitches in your throat. Pale green robes lined in the most beautiful black and silver embroidery pool around him, matching the braided crown that rests atop his head. You didn't know flowers like that existed, let alone that they could look so wonderful on someone.

"I didn't know you were back," You breathe.

"That's the point of a surprise, my love," Hoseok says from behind you, hand tightening around yours. Guilt begins to grow in your chest and Yoongi tsks at you. He rises and comes to stand in front of you, brow furrowed.

"That's no way for a queen to look, is it? What has you thinking so hard?" His thumb smooths the space between your brows and you can't help the glance to Hoseok.

"I can't...I don't want to hurt you." Your voice is barely a whisper, and the familiar sting encircles your heart once more. You couldn't choose between the two of them, not if you tried, not even if it meant getting out of this place.

"You won't," Hoseok tells you with a familiar grin. "Yoongi and I have already talked about what we feel for each other, and for you. The only question now is if you'll have us. Both of us."

Months ago, you would have called them crazy and had them exiled for fear they'd gone mad. You never imagined you could have one of them, let alone both; you had been ready to tell them both that you had been mistaken because having one by your side while your heart still yearned for the other was far more cruel than anything you could put in the Fields of Punishment.

Now? Now you know what the Isles must feel like. It is Yoongi in front of you, thumb brushing lightly against your cheek while Hoseok's warmth is steady behind you, one arm encircling your waist and keeping you steady.

"Both of you?" You echo. Yoongi nods.

"You don't have to," Hoseok says from behind you. "But we know how you feel about us, and we're sure in how we feel for each other. There are stranger pairings in the world, aren't there?"

"Only one of you could be king." You aren't sure why you say that, can't remember why it even matters when Hoseok trails his lips over the shell of your ear.

"I never have looked good on a throne," He says. Yoongi's chest rumbles in a laugh, and you could cry at the sight of that familiar gummy smile.

"Please," Yoongi eventually says. "Please say yes." You search his eyes for any hint of indecision or regret, and when you find none, you turn to Hoseok. He has a soft, encouraging smile on his face, and he holds your crown in his free hand. The cool black metal is harsh against his tanned skin, but what draws your eye isn't the way the bones are fused together or the etchings of historical scenes across each. No, it's the soft pale green blossoms woven in among the metal, a stark contrast to the harshness of the bones, and the silver thread twined around all of it, dipping in and out in various places but clearly noticeable in the light. It's a perfect representation of the three of you and it makes your chest swell.

"Yes," You breathe. They don't move, and your eyes dart between them. "Yes, absolutely. I can think of nothing I have ever wanted more."

Yoongi surges forward, capturing you in a long-awaited kiss. His lips are soft as blossoms against yours, warm and gentle as the hands that cup your jaw and draw you closer. You're aware, distantly, of the soft clink of metal on stone as Hoseok sets your crown to the side, though his arm never leaves your waist.

Hours could have passed with Yoongi kissing you. You aren't sure. Time runs together and blends, a dizzying whirlwind of slow drags of his lips across yours followed by quick, messy bursts of his tongue. You can barely focus on what is happening, mind split between the absolute euphoria of kissing him and the heat that comes from Hoseok's fingers dancing along your waist and shoulders, his breath ghosting over your neck as he watches. When Yoongi finally detaches from your lips, he ducks down to suck at the exposed skin of your collarbone, and Hoseok turns your chin so you face him.

"May I, my lady?" He asks. His voice is rough and deeper than you're used to, affected by the sight of you and Yoongi. His fingers twine with the strings holding your robes together and you give him a nod. It doesn't even take a full breath before the black material is pooling at your feet. Hoseok stifles something that sounds suspiciously like a moan behind you, and you think Yoongi actually purrs. They both run their hands along your skin, basking in the goosebumps that they raise and the shivers that crawl up your spine.

"Absolutely ethereal," Yoongi mutters. You pull him into another kiss, one hand coming up to rest against his shoulder while your other tangles in Hoseok's hair where he's doing his level-best to leave his mark on your neck.

"Please," You murmur. "I want to make you happy."

"You've already done that, my queen," He says. His smile is soft and the glint in his eye is sharp. You huff a little and tap twice at Hoseok's neck; when he pulls away, pouting but compliant, you push Yoongi until he's falling back onto your bed. He goes with no objections, one hand twining his fingers with yours and you crawl up to straddle his hips. "Let me please you, my queen. I've been waiting six months to taste you, and I don't want to waste another moment if I don't have to."

Your breath hitches as Hoseok steps up behind you. The bare skin of his chest is a shock as it presses against your back, and he slides his hands along your sides before beginning to tease your nipples. You stifle the moan, emitting more of a whine than anything, and you think you nod. All you know is the heat between your legs and the knee-deep ache to make them happy.

Yoongi's between your legs in a flash. You can't be sure how exactly he moved so quickly without jostling you, but the thought is all but shoved out of your mind as he swipes his tongue against you for the first time. You're glad Hoseok is behind you because your legs are already trembling where they're curled under you and your head drops back to rest against his shoulder. As merciless as Hoseok is in his torment of your chest, Yoongi is doubly so.

You imagine a man starving and dehydrated in a desert wouldn't be this invested in a sudden banquet laid in front of him; Yoongi worships you, circling your clit several times before dipping down to dart teasingly in and out of your hole. He laps up every single drop of your arousal, dutiful in his mission even as Hoseok begins to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. The heat of his breath has you closer to the edge than you want to admit, but the sheer love that radiates from his words at the same time Yoongi rumbles out a heavenly moan straight into your folds, tongue buried inside of you, is what drives you over the edge.

You aren't surprised when neither of them stop; you get the sense Yoongi is thoroughly enjoying himself between your thighs, based on the growing tent in his robes. Hoseok grinds against your ass, and his own hardness presses against you with every painless thrust of his hips. A pang of guilt shoots through you and your hands drop. It's a bit of an awkward angle, but you make it work as you glide your hands over him. He's thick, that's for sure, and nearly as long as your forearm. How you're supposed to take that inside of you is anyone's guess, but as Yoongi brings you to yet another orgasm with his mouth, you realize that's exactly what they're preparing you for.

The whimper comes unbidden, walls clenching around nothing at the thought of them filling you, and they both shudder. "Please," You gasp, "Please, I need you. Both of you."

Yoongi graciously lets you rise off of him, and when you settle on your back, he sits up to smile at you. His lips and chin are absolutely coating in your slick, the sight erotic and exciting. The feeling is doubled as Hoseok grips Yoongi's chin, turning the mint-haired god to face him.

"How does she taste, my flower?" He purrs. You don't hear Yoongi's response, just the deep thrum of his voice, but you see the way Hoseok runs his thumb across Yoongi's lips, collecting your juices, before sliding it into his own mouth. You moan at the sight, Hoseok's eyes falling closed as he relishes in the taste of you. Yoongi strips out of his robes while he can, and he doesn't seem to miss the way your and Hoseok's eyes watch hungrily.

"Tell me what you want," Hoseok says, pulling you closer as Yoongi settles behind you. "We're here for you, my queen."

"I…" You falter. You aren't even sure what you want now; you've spent six months trying to figure out how to tell both of the men you love that you can't be with either of them and now you have both of them naked in your bed, waiting to please you. You can hardly think, can't focus beyond the feel of their skin against yours and the heat of their gaze, but you know one thing.

You need them to know how desperately you love them, and with the fire burning between your thighs, there is exactly one way you can do that.

"I need you inside me, Hobi," You tell him. "I need to feel you inside of me. Yoongi, too. Both of you." Hoseok's cock twitches and something in his jaw clicks. You don't wait for more of a response, choosing instead to slide across the sheets to straddle Hoseok's hips. His hands rest lightly on your hips, tentative now, and you smile at him. His hands are gentle now, soft as the smile he gives you in return. His cock is dripping and red, a warm heat in your palm as you guide him to your entrance.

The look in his eyes, the small moan he releases, the hitch in Yoongi's breath behind you as you slowly sink down onto Hoseok will forever be etched into your memory. You're so full that you could cry; he feels absolutely perfect inside of you, and it only gets better as he guides you carefully up and then back down onto him. Your moan is felt more than heard and it only gets louder as he speeds up. His fingers are marble against your his, unmoving and firm as he slides in and out. He doesn't look away for a second and neither do you; all the years you've spent thinking about him, the millennia you've ached to love and be loved by him, it has all led to this. Your hips moving against his, connected in a way you've never been before; if it were possible to read his thoughts, you think you could at this moment, because they must be a mirror of your own.

"I love you," You whisper. Yoongi's warmth presses against your spine as he slides a finger between the two of you to rub slow circles into your clit, and you gasp. "I love you, Hobi, so much." The words are a mantra on your lips, and you think there may be tears in his eyes but you can't be sure because you're coming again, shuddering on top of him, and Yoongi is gently pulling you off.

Hands turn you, and now it's Yoongi between your legs, cock red and throbbing where it sits against his stomach. He isn't as long as Hoseok, but he's wider, and you clench again at the sight.

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him with a soft kiss pressed against the corner of his mouth. You slide down onto him, welcoming the slight burn that comes with the stretch. It takes two breaths for you to become impatient and begin to move, grinding your hips down against his. Yoongi isn't as loud as Hoseok, soft pants and whines where Hobi is echoing moans and groans, but it's just as attractive. He moves his hips in tandem with yours, and the muses themselves couldn't have created a better rhythm. The words fall from your lips again; it's easier, now that you've said them to someone, to let them go. They don't ball in your throat, aren't a lump to swallow down anymore, and you revel in the feeling.

"I love you," Yoongi returns, thumbs ghosting over the skin of your thighs. "So much, both of you. Saved me, can't fucking...fuck, can't tell you enough." You nod and loose another moan when Hoseok slides a finger in alongside Yoongi's cock.

"Do you think she can take us both, my flower?" Hoseok asks. His voice is raspy in your ear and you shudder as you orgasm again. There's a moment when you wonder just how many times you can come from the two of them, but it's gone the second Yoongi speaks.

"I think she could," Yoongi responds. "She's certainly wet enough. Absolutely soaked, aren't you, my queen? Do you want that? Both of us in here, filling you up?" He punctuates every word with another thrust of his hips and you nod. You don't think you've ever wanted anything more.

Hoseok is careful as he fingers you, working you open with one, then two, then three fingers as Yoongi slides in and out. You'd commend them both on their stamina if you could spare a single thought to anything but the feeling of them. Yoongi looks wrecked, covered in sweat with swollen lips, panting and desperate as he writhes beneath you.

When Hoseok finally decides you're ready, he slides his fingers out and asks you again if you're sure. You barely have the presence of mind to nod, too close to coming again, but it's enough for him. He slides in, and all three of you are moaning. You can't be sure what it feels like for them, but you're in absolute bliss. Hoseok peppers your shoulder with chaste kisses, murmuring encouragement as he sinks deeper inside. His cock drags against your walls and Yoongi's dick, and the thought makes you clench around them both. You're so full, you may explode, but it's perfection. When Hoseok bottoms out inside of you, you're all still for a while, just getting used to it.

"You're perfect," Hoseok whispers into your skin. "Both of you, you're both fucking perfect. Fuck, can I-?"

"Yes," You interrupt. You're already grinding down onto them, desperate for any kind of friction. "Please, Hobi." He grunts as he starts to move, and Yoongi does the same. They get a steady rhythm after a while, one sinking in as deep as he could get as the other drags outward, only to slam back in at the last second.

A sob builds in your throat, the sheer pleasure rolling through your body too much to handle as orgasm after orgasm slammed into you. There are hands everywhere, two on your hips keeping you steady, two roaming your body and teasing your nipples, on one Hoseok's neck to keep him close as another rests lightly against Yoongi's throat. You aren't sure which are yours, can't tell where you end and they begin, too fucked out to be able to think beyond the drag of their cocks against your walls and the growing ache inside you.

"Please," You gasp. "Please, need it. Fill me, please, need you both to fill me, make me yours, forever. Mark me. I'm yours, always, please, fill me with you." They both groan at that, and their pace speeds up. They're hitting harder and deeper and brushing against the spot inside of you that makes your vision turn white. Something gushes down your thighs as you spasm around them wildly, hips jerking of their own accord, and you feel it as they come together, hot seed spilling inside of you as you ride out your highs together.

You're panting and sweaty and hot and still, you don't think you'd trade this for even a moment of sunlight. They slide out of you and their cum seeps down your legs before you can stop it. You fall to the bed beside Yoongi, chest heaving even as he wraps you in his arms. A wave of your hand creates a small fan near the bed, shadows churning out cool air that feels like ambrosia on your skin.

Hoseok reappears with water for you both, and you thank him. Your voice is nearly gone, but it's worth it, you think. You pat the space beside you and Hoseok climbs in. His skin is hot against yours; the three of you are essentially a furnace at the moment, but you can't bring yourself to care. You can't count how many orgasms you had or how long you spent with them; it could have been minutes or hours or even days. It doesn't matter to you, really. Sprawled between an already-sleeping Yoongi and a Hoseok that's tracing invisible designs onto your skin, you have everything you could ever want.

Later you sit atop the shadows near your bed, chin in your hand as you admire the card between your fingers. Yoongi and Hoseok are wrapped around each other in your bed, lightly snoring as the sheets rise and fall against their naked chests. As you watch them, Hoseok’s brow furrows and he lazily stretches his arm to pat against the bed in search of you. He snuffles a little, and Yoongi nuzzles deeper into the crook of his neck until they’re both quiet again.

Silver foil glints in the light and you look back at the card in your hand. There’s a stack a hundred high beside you, all of them identical to the next save for the curling letters that make up the recipients, but this one is special. This one is your favorite. If you didn’t absolutely have to send it off, you would frame it and hang it above your throne; ultimately, though, you’d rather bask in the aftermath that’s sure to come.

With a small smile, you set it atop the others and wrap the bit of twine around them all. It’s gone with a wave of your hand, no doubt appearing wherever Hermes is. You wish you could see the look on his face when he realizes what they are, but he’s not the one that you really wish you could watch.

The raspy call of your name brings you back to the present, and you look up to find Yoongi watching you, lids heavy with sleep and eyes dark. “What are you doing?” He asks.

“Nothing.” You grin and stand, letting the shadows underneath you fall away. “Just sending out a quick notice.” You slide in beside him and Hobi, the latter still asleep but turning to wrap his arms around you nonetheless. Yoongi presses kisses to your knuckles and you pull a stray flower petal from his hair.

“You’re gloating, aren’t you?” He mutters. There’s a smile behind his eyes, and it warms you.

“Maybe a bit.” You lean over and kiss him, gentle and tender and you hope that it conveys everything you can’t put into words. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

“No,” Yoongi answers after a long pause in which he moves to straddle Hoseok’s hips in order to get close enough to suck marks into your neck. His lips are slow against your skin, tired and lazy from sleep. “I think I enjoy this side of you, actually.” “I, for one, am very much enjoying this side of you.” You grin at Hoseok’s words, smiling down at him. He’s half-hard again, hands resting lightly on Yoongi’s hips and eyes fixed on the bruises that bloom on your neck. “I thought we were sleeping.”

“We were,” You tell him. “You can always go back to sleep if you want.”

“You wish,” He mutters. Yoongi groans against your neck and you look down to see Hoseok palming him, working him up to fullness as Yoongi fucks into his hand. You wrap one of your own around Hoseok and return the favor; the way his moan echoes through the room is better than anything the nine muses could have created.

It’s slow and tired, each of you already spent from your earlier activities, but when you eventually drop between them, chests heaving from your orgasms and already half-asleep again, you think it’s worth it.

When you wake later and find a card sitting on the flower-woven throne - a new addition to the hall, one most welcome - crumpled and half-torn with a thorn sticking out of it, you know it’s worth it.

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roswelldetails · 5 years ago

Text

RNM 2x10 - American Woman

EPISODE SUMMARY:

SECRETS OF THE PAST — After uncovering a cryptic message from the past, Alex (Tyler Blackburn), Isobel (Lily Cowles), Max (Nathan Dean), Michael (Michael Vlamis) and Maria (Heather Hemmens) set out in search of answers at the reservation where Alex’s mother grew up. Meanwhile, Cameron (guest star Riley Voelkel) encourages Liz (Jeanine Mason) to reach out to someone from her past after Auturo (guest star Carlos Compean) gets detained. Marcus Stokes directed the episode written by Rick Montano & Vincent Ingaro & Jason Gavin (#210). Original airdate 5/18/2020.

DETAILS:

Tripp brings Louise to the Reservation in a body bag where the Navajo doctors are able to save her life.

"Your message said that you were gonna bring two women that would be no trouble. This looks like a lot of trouble."

"I must have gotten the codes wrong."

"No, don't give me that Manes man nonsense. Not here in my own home."

"Her name is Louise. I promised her friend Nora I'd protect them. My brother triggered an ambush before I could get them here. And Nora…"

"Wait, what does the Air Force want them for?"

"They're not from around here. They're from...up north."

"Yìiyáh. No. She can't stay here… What if your brother comes here and finds a fugitive. I can't put my people at risk for a white woman."

"Please. You're the only person I trust. If she doesn't make it, it was all for nothing."

"I'll have you remember that I was the one that saved your ass in Okinawa. I don't owe you anything. I'm only doing this because you're my family. And because I'm a damn fool."

A few notes on this scene:

--I don't know why Tripp pretends he got the codes wrong. Unless he's spiraling and talking about the timing of the attack. But it seems like he means the message that he was bringing them to the reservation. Clearly things didn't go according to plan. Though, it is always possible that we're still missing bits of the story.

--OG Easter Egg. "They're not from around here. They're from up north." For anyone who didn't watch OG, this is almost exactly how the exchange went when Max told Liz he was an alien in the 1999 pilot.

--Yìiyáh - I found nothing on this word. I'm assuming that it's a curse word or general exclamation of negativity, but literally got zero results on google. It's possible, of course, that it's misspelled in the captions. There were a lot of errors in the captions in this opening scene.

--While there really isn't any overt statement that Alex is half Navajo and this town is part of Navajo Nation (which has been in the news a lot lately and therefore is a good place in this country to be aware of), there's lots of clues or subtle enough statements that I feel like it can be accepted as fact, since: Harrison is a codetalker, the necklace is Navajo, tsela is a Navajo word. So I did a little peeking and it could work. The closest Navajo town is about a 4 hour drive from Roswell.

Navajo Nation:

(side note - Navajo Nation has extreme poverty but also is utterly gorgeous. And the Tribe gets income from tourism. Just a few places there that I'm dying to go? Monument Valley, Antelope Canyon, Shiprock. Check it out.)

Liz comments on Max's irregular heartbeat, with literally no acknowledgment of the fact that she's straddling him and has a history of causing his heart to race...and other forms of lack of control (think 1x03).

"I'm excited about this though. You know Alex dug up all that info on our bio Mom. You sure you can't come?"

"Got to take my dad in for his blood tests. I want to check on Jenna too. Cannot believe she's back in the hospital again."

"She's been in pain for weeks. I have no leads on the mysterious hunting van, and Charlie hasn't made contact."

"Hmm. To be fair, I do hear that phone service is a little spotty in flying saucers."

"Okay, I get that. You think my alien abduction theory is bogus."

"I know you're worried that this has something to do with you, but I don't think this is an alien thing."

"Cam and I had fractal burns on our necks. We had no memory of what happened. That's alien stuff. I just want clarity on something."

--Note that it's past time to abandon all hope of anything resembling a defined timeline for this show...once again we have weeks passing between episodes. This is the second time this season that the time passing has only been generically described as "weeks". It's been at least a year since Liz came back to Roswell (per her conversation with Diego), but a year would be summer (late May or early June, specifically), and in this episode Isobel mentions that it's winter (which would be a year and a half).

Maria's pitch:

"In conclusion, esteemed members of the Roswell Tourism Board, while the Pony is normally a sanctuary for locals during CrashCon, I think that my plan to turn it into the Contact Cantina Pop-Up Bar will be a hit with alien fans."

"We're talking more money than we first speculated, aren't we now?"

"You know, Mayor Bernhardt, I forgot to tell you about our new morning cocktail… It's coffee, vanilla cream, and our best bourbon. Let me get you a double."

Note: so this is the famous Mayor Bernhardt. Funded by the Long family. Doesn't like immigrants. Had a racist relative who wouldn't give first prize to the black man.

Maria's vision…

Herself, younger, sitting at the Pony bar.

"You have to let me go! You're just crazy! And I'm trapped!"

And then she runs from the bar crying.

She's not wearing the necklace.

Describing it to Michael:

"I had a vision, but it was more like a memory. Of a fight I had with my mom when I was younger."

Isobel interrupts Michael and Maria to pick them up for the road trip. Just a few relevant excepts from this scene:

"Pack your bags. We're going on a family road trip."

"Is this why Max wanted the day off?"

"In the photo of Max and Isobel's bio Mom, there was a water tower. Alex recognized that water tower from the town where his mom grew up. You should come with us."

Alex and Forrest talk in the Crashdown:

"Hope that limp isn't from a paintball injury."

"Nope. Those bruises have mostly healed. I just got a new prosthetic. Takes a minute to get used to. You working on your book?"

"I write my book on my computer. However, I write my angsty emo poetry in an angsty emo journal."

"I'm actually working on some poetry myself. Well, song lyrics, technically. It's a lot harder than it was in high school."

"Yeah, writing was easier for me when I was a kid too. Feelings...we bury 'em now. You just got to find that thing inside of you that doesn't have a voice. Lend it yours. You know? Listen, I have like, zero musical talent, but if you need help with the worst part, we could, uh…"

"Actually I'm leaving tomorrow for a few days to go talk to some recruits."

Michael interruptus, and the conversation goes casual.

--What happened to "angsty nerd isn't really my type." Or...was it FORESHADOWING!!!?! 😂

--Oh hi there clear shot of Forrest's clearly Deep Sky logoed ring…

Cam has been having debilitating migraines that have been keeping her bedridden since the abduction.

Nurse Kate is a badass. she tries to keep ICE from getting into a patient's room. Liz hears her and hurries to the waiting room, where there's more ICE activity. Liz panics and tries to get Arturo out of the hospital, but she caught the attention of the ICE officers. However, Liz knows her rights.

"He has applied for his green card. I'm his sponsor, okay? This is his G-1145 right here."

"You can show that to the court."

"It's okay. Call the lawyer."

"No. He is a diabetic. It is illegal to detain a patient."

"Exigent circumstances. Move."

"No. Hey, this is an unconstitutional arrest and the ACLU will be all over you."

"Elizabeth, we respect the law in this family. If you're in trouble, who will take care of the mouse?"

--G-1145 is a request for confirmation that your green card application has been accepted:

--The timing of this all. Liz has been prepared for this moment all her life and would fight it to the point of getting arrested herself, if not for Rosa. Rosa's safety is the only thing that convinces Liz to step aside.

--As an only semi related note, this is a really interesting contrast to how they wrote Jeanine's character out on Grey's Anatomy.

--Also feel like it would be remiss of me to not point out Liz's reactiveness and fightinf mentality is mirroring how Liz initially reacted to Max pulling her over in the pilot.

"Okay. So the Deputy on call says there's one detention center in the county. Here's the info."

"He doesn't have anything left in Mexico. No one. Nowhere to go."

"You can't think like that right now."

"I think like this always. Rosa and I used to recite our escape plan for if our parents got deported and we got separated in foster care. I begged my parents not to tell Santa where we lived because I was afraid he'd ask for papers. My whole life was built on a fear of this day coming, and it's here. If I'd have kept better track of his health, he wouldn't need these tests. I should have made him move to California. I thought we were safe being outside the hundred-mile zone, but after this election I should have known better. And I should have made him wear a sweater this morning because it's freezing out there. And what if he…?"

"...okay think. Is there someone we can call?"

"Kyle's at a conference, but I can have him call his mom."

"Do you know anyone with some real power? You know, Federal muscle?"

Cam gets dressed to take Liz to the Detention Center and Liz calls Diego for help.

The road trip group arrive at the reservation and meet Gregory Manes. He says he remembers them all from high school. He takes Max, Michael, and Isobel to learn about Louise while Alex and Maria go jewelry shopping.

Meanwhile Gregory is taking the Pod Squad to Louise's grave, but pauses for some flirting:

"You're still the Isobel Evans who convinced the basketball captain to pull four different fire alarms to get out of AP Gov, right? Yeah, legend. Here she is."

"Oh my God, it's covered in flowers. It's winter."

"Rumor is they grow year-round unattended. She was a healer. I'm told she helped with trauma, addiction, that sort of thing. All without speaking."

"This another grave?"

"She was pregnant."

"Louise arrived gravely injured. And the baby didn't survive.

--Louise died the same day the Pod Squad came out of the pods, confirming that she is probably the old woman on the reservation that was described in 1x09.

--Michael found the mysterious purple flowers growing on Louise's grave.

Alex and Maria at the trading post.

"Are you okay? Seem a little off."

"I had a vision during a meeting this morning. It almost cost me a deal that could save the bar. Maybe I should just wear the necklace. Go back to being a social media guru. Slash barkeep. Slash magical trope in our redneck mayor's fantasy."

"So why did you really come today? Your ideal day off isn't fighting for the radio silence with Isobel Evans, so…"

"This is the back of my necklace. The word stamped in the silver says Tsela. The necklace is Navajo, so I thought maybe that was the jeweler, but no one I've asked here seems to know who made it. I just want answers."

"Well, there's a ton of silver jewelry for sale here. So why don't we just keep looking for something with the same stamp?"

Pod Squad sharing a bottle of acetone by Louise's grave.

"Noah said our planet was war-torn. But the hell they found here can't have been worth it."

"Do you think that Louise's baby died from her injuries or do you think maybe it was never going to survive?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I was pregnant. When you died. Obviously I'm not anymore. I just can't help wondering if that was my last chance. Assuming that humans and aliens can't procreate because they're different species. Maybe that little baby wasn't viable."

"You almost died during the abortion, didn't you? I could feel it. Noah almost killed you again, huh? Oh, I need a minute."

After Max leaves Michael offers to be a sperm donor for Isobel if she ever wants to have a kid.

Liz at the Detainment Center

"It's Ortecho. Arturo Ortecho. He's my dad. And he needs gliclazide and beta-blockers. I brought both."

"We can't take contraband here, but there is an infirmary on-site, if he's here."

"You know, out of curiosity, did Nebane Abienwi visit an infirmary before he died of a brain bleed in your custody? What about Johana Medina León? She was 25 years old, okay? People walk through those doors and they die...Who's your supervisor? You need prior approval before conducting enforcement in a hospital. There was a compliance memo."

"Right, a memo, which is just like a law only not. Unless you calm down, I'm gonna arrest you for obstruction."

"Okay, Liz, maybe sit down. Sir, I'm Deputy Jenna Cameron, and we appreciate your interpretation of your guidelines, but we have an urgent health concern about an inmate here, if you just wouldn't mind checking the system."

Jenna goes with the agent…when she returns...

"Do you have a court case next week for a vandalism charge?"

"What? Yes, but I didn't do it. I'm just gonna plead guilty and pay the fine. It's nothing."

"They denied your dad's green card application because of a misdemeanor on your record. You can't be his sponsor."

Jenna's headaches overtake her. Meanwhile, the ICE agent comes back with news:

"Here just came up. Ortecho is being transferred to El Paso for his deportation hearing. You can see him there around Tuesday."

--Liz's misdemeanor is taking the fall for Rosa's vandalism from when she was arrested by Sheriff Valenti in 2x02.

Gregory takes the Pod Squad to see Harrison who is on his death bed. Manes boys are always welcome here, the woman tells them. Harrison is the only one Louise ever spoke to on the reservation.

"He met my great uncle Tripp Manes fighting in WWII. Harry was a code talker."

Michael gets Gregory to leave with him so that Max and Isobel can go inside of Harrison's head. Their conversation:

"You look like her."

"Harrison. You look different."

"That was a lesson I learned from Louise. How to take your mind to a better time when you're in pain. Come on. I haven't seen the sky in a while. I'll tell you about her...I taught Tripp the codes in the Pacific. That's how we set up the rescue. He was supposed to snuggle Louise and Nora here, but the plan fell apart."

In the past between Harrison and Tripp:

"You've changed. The man I met on that ship obeyed orders."

"Guess I saw what happens when good men fall in line with bad orders. I'm a Christian, Harry. When evil itself tells me to kill a woman with child, I disobey. Even if the evil looks just like my brother."

A nurse rolls Louise into the room in a wheelchair.

"Did you find a family for her?"

"There should be music where you take her. I think she's a dancer."

"You can give her a house full of music, Louise. Nora wanted me to protect you so that you could protect the child."

"No. He's coming for me and I can't even move. No. When the devil comes, I won't be able to fight for her. Please. It is hard to be a woman on your planet. It's only gonna be harder still for her. Roy Bronson believed in meeting hatred with compassion. And I want her to be like him. A light in the darkness. A little star on the ground. I want that for both my girls."

"Where did he take the baby?"

"Can't say."

"No. Tell us where our sister went."

"She isn't your sister. Louise rarely spoke, but when she did, she spoke of two daughters. Two stars on the ground. She had no sons. You aren't hers. You came from something else...She lived for decades longer than she should have, trapped inside of a body that could no longer dance, waiting for a sign that you would be all right. She loved you."

Jenna wakes up back at the hospital.

"I asked them to run a new test. Your headaches are spinal headaches. Because there was a hole torn into your spinal cord."

"I'm sorry, what? My kidnappers gave me a spinal tap?"

"Do you mind signing off so I can look at your tox screen?"

"Yeah, of course, but, Liz, you don't have to do this, okay? Your dad, and…"

"I need a distraction. I can't leave for El Paso until tomorrow, and they're not letting him have visitors other than his lawyer until Tuesday, so...thank you for being here. You used your privilege to help me. I'm furious that I needed it, but I needed it."

--Reposado is a type of tequila

--Spinal Headaches:

Isobel and Max on what they learned from Harrison:

"You've always been different than me and Michael, okay? Always. You were the leader. From the start. I mean, you're the special one. You're the healer."

"I was. Now I can't even sneeze without my heart skipping a beat. All my life, no matter how weird things got, I never felt alone. Because I was your twin. Maybe I'm different. Maybe I'm a freak...I can't stop thinking about being chained up when I was a kid. It didn't feel like someone bad chained me up. It felt like I was the someone bad."

"Max, you're not dangerous."

"Saving people destroys me. But killing Noah? That felt good. I was high. And whenever I think about what he did to you, I want to chase that high. I wish I could kill him a thousand times. Louise mentioned the devil. Maybe something evil was chasing them. And maybe that something was me."

"Okay. I want to show you something. You see this hand on her shoulder there? See, Michael thought it was just someone who got cropped out of the photo, but no. Any female would recognize that body language. She does not want that hand on her. Louise said the devil would come. I think something evil was after them, but it wasn't you. I want to find out who it was."

Alex and Gregory:

"Hey, I just wanted to say thank you before we go. I also feel like I should congratulate you on getting out."

"Of the Navy?"

"Of the family. Getting out from under Dad."

"You got to break free of him, man."

"Do you feel free?"

"I don't think I get to be free until you are, Alex. You know, you're my brother. I wish that I would've stood up for you more."

"You know, I think he's actually getting a little bit better. It's like the stroke melted away the psycho in his brain or something."

"If you can forgive him you should. Cast off the stone. Let me hate him for you. I owe you that much."

Back at the trading post with the whole road trip group.

"We scoured the store for jewelry that said Tsela on it, but nada. Although I did manage to spend an entire week's worth of tips anyway."

"Tsela?"

"Yeah it was printed on the back of my grandmother's necklace. I thought I might find some answers here."

"Well, apparently, it is Navajo for star on the ground. So, you guys ready to go?"

"Star on the ground. Maria? What year was your grandmother born?"

"Uh, '48, I think?"

"Was she adopted?"

"Yeah. Oh my God."

"Your grandmother was my sister."

Note: The direct translation of Tsela is stars lying down. Interestingly, it's often a name in Navajo. When I googled it, the top results were names for Navajo boys.

Diego and Liz's conversation:

"Diego, I never would have reached out if it weren't an emergency. Thank your mom for me."

"The Senator was more than happy to call in a favor. She's always liked you."

"I like her too. We need more people like her."

"Look, we got lucky your dad got out at all, much less without an ankle monitor. And you pissed a few people off back there, so it's not likely that this is the end for you. Who's your lawyer? Or should I make some calls?"

"No, you've done enough. After what I did, I can't even believe you listened to my voicemail...How did you get here so fast?"

"I was at the airport in Phoenix when you called. Just had to reroute real fast."

"And how have you been?"

"Well, my fiancée left me. I'm kidding. No, I'm seeing someone. It's getting pretty serious, so…"

"Good. Me too."

"Good. We can be friends...And don't take this the wrong way. Please tell me you're not wasting that incredible brain of yours writing alien hamburger puns."

"I am working on a few projects. Nothing I can talk about, but, I'm not wasting anything."

"Well, all the coolest studies make you sign NDAs anyway, so…"

"You know what? There actually is something...Do you know what butyricol is? Worth a shot. It's this chemical I found in my friend's tox screen. I had never heard of it."

"Maybe you're slacking, Ortecho."

"I am sorry, it has only been a year. Did you literally forget everything about me?"

Note: I'm very pleased to say that when I googled butyricol, half of the top results were RNM related. Definitely not a real drug.

Malex fight in the bunker:

"We're closed!"

"Hey, that alien console piece that Jim Valenti left me...You still have it?"

"No. I sold it on eBay."

"You didn't attach it to your console."

"I tried. Doesn't fit."

"So, Tripp left this for my dad before he died. My dad thought it was a code, but this is a reference sketch of this exact piece. My dad's been looking for this thing for 30 years and Jim Valenti had it all along...I'm gonna give it to him. I want to see what he does with it once he's got it. Look, if it didn't fit in your console, then it fits somewhere else. My dad could lead us there.""Your dad hunts aliens, Alex. He'll lead my family right off a cliff."

"I've protected you so far. That's not changing. Besides, he's different these days...I don't trust him, Guerin. I just…I'm asking you to trust me.""When we were kids, you believed people were good, despite humanity doing everything to prove you otherwise. And, God, I loved you for it. But what was charming when we were 17, it's just stupid now. How do you not see that? You believe there's some good in your father?"

"Yeah. Yeah I do. God forbid I have faith in people who don't give me a good reason to."

"That's not fair."

"No? Why is your hand covered? You miss your injury because you want to hurt. Your anger made you feel safe. I will always hate my father for what he did to you, but I don't want to live in that toolshed for the rest of my life. I don't want to walk around thinking that people don't change, that one day everyone's just gonna let me down, 'cause I am not building a damn rocket ship in a hidden lair. There's one way for me off this planet. And I need to believe in a reason to stay. I promise I'll keep you safe."

"Can't let you leave with that."

"What are you gonna do? Fight me for it?"

And then Alex leaves and is kidnapped. Hit over the head by an unknown assailant. The note from Tripp blows away.

Max and Liz are talking back at Max's house while Max drinks a lot of bourbon.

"You know, you never told me why your parents immigrated here in the first place."

"My dad wanted a family, but not in Juárez. There was no opportunity, no money. Women were disappearing there all the time. He didn't want my mom to be one of them. So he fled. You're wondering why your family came here."

"If I even had a family. I know so little about my own story. And the parts I thought I understood are just unraveling."

"Max. Family is the one area where I am certain that biology does not matter. Look, when I found out that Rosa was only my half sister that didn't change anything."

"This is different...There are only three of us on this planet, as far as we know. I mean, feeling disconnected from them makes me feel completely alone."

"Completely alone? I'm right here."

"When you needed a rescue today your Mensa society, old money son of a senator ex was there to answer your prayers. I couldn't even answer a call. You didn't need me."

"Oh my God. Okay, so would you prefer that I did need you? Would you prefer to come home to find me crying into my dad's windbreaker so that you can swoop me up and drive me to El Paso for his deportation hearing in the morning?"

"That's not fair. You wanted me to talk about today."

"Yes, okay. I'm sorry. I want you to feel better."

"Well, you think maybe you could go back in time and not meet someone as handsome as Diego? Seriously. He's like if someone mixed a cologne ad with a Kennedy. It's ridiculous. I will never feel adequate again."

"You're wrong. Max, let me be clear. You are objectively better in bed...And I never woke up on a Sunday morning to him singing Hank Williams in the shower...He never snuck unreasonable tips into my dad's checks. Or quoted Henry the Fourth. Coming home to you at the end of my worst days and my best days is the only rescue I need."

I actually found this background on the Ortechos to be fascinating. In case you don't know Juárez is a pretty big city directly opposite the border from El Paso. It does have some huge crime issues. But it also is one of those border cities where the border is a little thinner. Like San Diego and Tijuana. People live in Juárez and work in El Paso and vice versa.

If you want to see a really dark & gritty portrayal of Juárez, I'd highly recommend you to check out the American version of the show The Bridge. Which literally deals with an investigation related to disappearing women.

Isobel and Maria at the Pony:

"She looks so determined."

"Yeah, neither of us would be here if she hadn't been. You know she was paralyzed 50 years and she still managed to use her powers to help ease troubled minds. You know how hard that is? To take on someone else's suffering? I mean, it doesn't just disappear. She would have been carrying all of that."

"She suffered so much loss."

"I don't know how to be worth it."

Michael on the bracelet.

"The beads are made with pollen from the alien flower. I found another plant growing at Louise's grave. Okay my working theory is that they grow from alien remains. There's this UFO lore about that Libyan desert where the flowers have been discovered before. You don't have to wear it if you don't want to. I know better than to think I can save Maria DeLuca. I hope you decide you can save yourself."

Max is still drinking after Liz went to bed. At 4:04am Diego calls and wakes her up.

"I made a call, about that toxin in your friend's system. Butyricol. It's a drug. It's a memory eraser. It was developed by a private organization and purchased by the military for weaponization. There's no approved application outside of violent combat."

Liz tries to call Alex, but he's too busy being unconscious in the back of his SUV. So his kidnapper pockets his phone.

Max has a memory flash. There's fighting, weapons clashing, a woman's voice...all while he's chained down in the cave. Louise appears and kneels down to touch his shoulder. He looks afraid, but she's trying to comfort him (even though she has blood splattered all over her white clothes). She smiles and nods and then cuts Max free of the chains with her alien weapon. She offers him her hand, but before he can take it a figure in white appears and he and Louise fight. Max cries out and hides his face.

Present day Max is visibly shook by the flash.

MUSIC:

1. Shelly Fairchild "Worry No More"

2. Powerslide "Just You And I"

3. Will Fox "Against The Tide"

4. Tommee Profitt feat. Sam Tinnesz "Bullet With Butterfly Wings"

#roswell new mexico #details #rnm season 2 #episode details #long post #rnm 210 #american woman

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izzy-b-hands · 4 years ago

Note

SHOT A GUN??!? LEE OMG, now you have to tell the story cause i'm curious (same goes to ruined a surprise)

From this post, for reference for anyone seeing this who hasn’t scrolled my blog today lol

The ruined a surprise one was pretty tame, and actually has happened more than once. As a kid, I would be told not to tell my mum or another family member about a surprise being done for them for their birthday. But I always wanted to make folks happy, and that was such good news to give them, my tiny brain would tell me. So inevitably I would roll up to the Birthday Person like a week before their party and be like “wouldn’t it be cool if you had [surprise thing X] at your party? Wouldn’t that be the best?” And they would go “Is that thing going to be at my party?” and I would immediately start giggling and give away the surprise lmao. My family still doesn’t tell me surprise stuff in advance now, and tbh, that’s fair. Though I will say, I have halted my ruining of surprises lol.

Put the gun story under a cut for safety’s sake. TW for mentions of abuse mentions of rape, mentions of death, hunting (idk if it’s a trigger for anyone else, but it is for me, so I’m adding it here), and racism.

The gun story is...more lol. My ex-stepdad was a proper Midwestern racist, sexist, homophobic, redneck asshole who loved guns and the flag more than anything else (aside from himself, naturally) and as a part of trying to “bond” with me before he ended up proposing to my mum (after barely six months of dating! And she said yes! But that’s another tale) he tried to teach me and get me to use all the weapons he loved so much.

Now, the bow and arrow I legit did and do still love. I never get to use it now, but I have a bow and my arrows with their hunting tips, and refuse to get rid of them in case I ever get a chance to go to a range again and shoot some of those foam cubes (my fave targets to use.) However, he was not content for me to just use that, and he really wanted to take me hunting.

Few issues with that:

-At the time, I was a middle schooler campaigning against the wars in the Middle East, using what little platform I had as a kid to protest; namely wearing an actual peace sign necklace to school and challenging other kids to debates about the wars. My government and history teachers did enjoy me for that, though I will never forget the government class where they let me go up against the entire class in debate. In one corner, seventh grade me, against the wars and war in general while still respecting that at least some soldiers are people who want to do good and think they can do it by being recruited but also acknowledging that the military targets minorities of all kinds knowing they can be more vulnerable to wanting to help others, and the military can prey on that to recruit people. In the other corner, the literal rest of my class, who were all too happy to pile on me about things not even related to the debate, even the ones who admitted they were on my side of the debate, but chose to instead use this opportunity to yell at me.

-As a result of the above point and other things, I Did Not and Do Not like guns. Not comfortable around them for many reasons, and since that age have believed in gun control.

-Also a result of the above point, was for peace in general and was not a fan of hunting. As I grew, I learned that there are some cases where hunting is actually needed to cull populations so they don’t overrun areas, but seventh grade me didn’t know that, and just wanted all animals to be allowed to live without people like my then-stepdad hunting them. Tbh, they still should be able to live without my ex-stepdad hunting them, because he should not be allowed weapons of any kind.

So needless to say, I didn’t want to even hold any of his guns, let alone shoot one. I managed to actually avoid that bit until after they got married.

Then, he turned into someone completely different from who he had been when they were dating. The full story of how he was abusive and what we went through for five years isn’t something I’ll put here because this is already long, but all of that does play into why I did not want to go hunting with him (in a field, in the middle of NoDak, just me and him, no one else around for miles and no cellphones? Not cool, putting it mildly) and why I did not want to handle his guns.

Unfortunately for me, my mum insisted I wasn’t trying hard enough to help him adjust to having a child, since he had been a single dude, married only once before for about six months, with no kids. He had nieces and a nephew, but otherwise he wasn’t used to kids. Part of my making ‘a better try’ with him was to go hunting, and let him teach me to shoot.

So, we went out hunting a few times. Pheasant, and deer, and that was alright. I wasn’t thrilled to be out there, and I can still smell how his truck was just saturated in the scent of dead animal and I hated and still hate that scent burned into my memory, but I got through it.

It was in the backyard of our house with his makeshift (read: not all right for guns or bows, really shitty) range that it came to a head, and I got to fire a gun for the first time.

I still question why he gave me a pistol. You don’t really use a pistol to hunt deer, you know? And he could never tell us why he had so many extra pistols, since he did have his one for work as an officer at the Penitentiary, and it seems like that one should be enough. By the time we left him, he had two huge gun safes full of pistols and other guns, including weapons that by law no one should be able to purchase, but no one checks in on the two assholes meeting in the Wal-Mart parking lot who have trunks full of weapons they want to sell without getting in legal trouble.

But I digress. He showed me how to hold it, to make sure I’m always pointing down-range, to only point at something I intend to shoot. To always treat the gun as if it was loaded, even if I was 99% sure it wasn’t. I give him that, because that is decent gun safety, and he could have been really terrible and not taught me that.

Once he had me set up in front of a target, he told me to go for it, to expect the recoil (I was chubby, always have been, but I hadn’t started seriously lifting weights at that time, so my arms were really reedy and physically even that pistol’s recoil flung me back some.)

I shot, and I wanted to drop it and run inside. It was loud, and the smell of gun smoke and ammunition is unpleasant. I felt like I’d betrayed something inside myself in that moment. This was what the troops learned how to do, what people who hurt others knew how to do.

But my mum had been really mad at me for not being better to him (in retrospect and after therapy, I was fine, just being a kid in early puberty. My therapist says my mother should have stood up for me. I’m not in a place to assign blame like that yet, and maybe I won’t ever be.) So, I stayed put, and I shot a few more times.

He noticed I had tears in my eyes, and started to complain about “the peaceful pussy shit getting in the way of me being taught something important” and he told me I needed to stop crying right away. I’ve never been able to do that, and I cry all the damn time; if I’m really angry or sad or happy, my body responds with tears that give me migraines that are hard to turn off once started.

He got more angry, and told me I needed to learn how to do this because if I didn’t, what would I do if someone broke in? Would I let them hurt my mother? Rape her? Kill her? If he wasn’t there (and he often wasn’t, due to his job and his hunting trips) it would be up to me to save her, didn’t I care about knowing how to save her?

I argued that I didn’t think a gun was the answer to that situation, that self defense and what weapons are used during it was too much for me to discuss with him.

He started talking about the black family that had moved in down the street, about the friend I had at school who was Muslim, about how diverse (read: not that diverse, this is the mid-fuckin-west that has a long way to go re: diversity) our state was becoming. About all the things he was ‘so sure’ they and their families would do to us, to me, if given the chance. All incorrect and horribly racist things, but he didn’t care, because he was always right, in his mind. And I wasn’t allowed to call him out and say he was wrong, or at least that was what my mother would tell me.

“You like peace, so learn to help me keep it.”

Instead I told him that it wasn’t right to say those things, that no one was going to try and hurt us like that, and that the notion was ridiculous. Shouting, I told him I was more scared of him and what he might do with his guns than what anyone else would do to me.

He went very quiet, took the pistol from me (that I was still pointing at the ground, like he showed me) and told me to go to my room.

He stayed out the rest of the night shooting his various guns, only coming in to switch weapons or get more ammo, refusing to come in for dinner until I had finished mine and was away from the table. He didn’t speak to me for the next week, and as scared as I was of him, it was some small relief that he at least wasn’t yelling at me or asking me things that made me uncomfortable.

In a weird way, I’m glad I’ve shot one before. When I’m debating with people in my area about gun control and other issues, they instantly respect you more if you can say you’ve shot before. Otherwise, they talk over you and don’t want to listen to anything, no matter how nice or calm you say it.

At the same time, I recoil any time I hear anything like gunshots, and I can’t ever imagine using a gun again. Even if I was told I must, I don’t think I could. I’ll hold my bow and arrow, keep the bat I keep in my room at all times to ease my paranoia, but I can’t ever imagine holding a gun again.

#text post #ask box things #my bad that the second story is so long #but I haven't told anyone the whole story aside from my therapist #and this was cathartic #and probably explains some of my paranoia and PTSD to y'all as well lmao #bens-jawline

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 5 years ago

Text

@thecorteztwins Based on our conversation about Fabian actually helping, then demanding credit. Taking place in your alt-Marauders. Feel free to ignore this completely if it contradicts something you were planning to write.

“I’m saying, it’s an outrage!” Fabian Cortez paced back and forth along the beach, hands waving in air dramatically. Both the track dug deep into the sand, and the expressions on the faces of his unlucky audience indicated he’d been ranting in this fashion for some time.

“Yes, yes, you’ve been very clear about that,” said Sebastian Shaw dryly. “Why don’t you go make yourself a fancy medal if it’s so important to you? Or buy one in some curio shop?” The slowly-healing burns on the Black King’s face and bandages around his chest and shoulder indicated that his weariness was not entirely caused by Fabian’s performance – but Fabian was contributing quite a bit.

“It’s not about me!” Fabian exclaimed, in what was quite possibly the most blatant and obvious lie in all of recorded history. “It’s about respect! I – mean, we taxed our powers to the limits, pushing ourselves to the very brink of death! It’s a miracle that we all survived – and the Council cannot even afford me – I mean, us the slightest hint of recognition for our service?”

“I got recognition!” Shinobi beamed. “Jumbo Carnation designed this just for me.” He twirled around, showing off the black fabric. It could, with some imagination, be called a suit, in the same way that artfully arranged dental floss might possibly be called a string bikini. The huge gaps in what was basically loosely connected strips of cloth showed off a whole landscape of skin. Shinobi may as well have been wearing a net.

“I didn’t realize Jumbo Carnation held such hostility towards you, son. I expect your revenge will be, if not subtle, at least swift and cruel.” Sebastian was praying that certain strips would not shift too far to the right or left.

“Maddie thinks I look amazing,” Shinobi folded his arms in a ridiculously attractive pout.

“Yes, he does,” Maddie chimed in, staring Sebastian down, hands on her hips. “I think he should wear it all the time.”

“Do you really want to do this, Madelyne?”

“You’re all missing the point!” Fabian broke in. The group’s attention had wavered from him for almost a minute, and that was unacceptable. “I’m not talking about gifts and praise from our fellow mutants, which we of course deserve. I’m talking about official recognition from the Council that supposedly runs this island! Some acknowledgement of our incredible courage and accomplishment! A medal is the very least they could do!”

“Crikey, will someone please shut him up? That voice is like hammers on my skull,” Pyro groaned, propped up on a beach chair with one hand holding a wet cloth over his eyes. Between focusing his flame into a blue-white stream to melt through the creature’s outer carapace, and then extinguishing the massive fires raging across Krakoa in the battles wake, he was nursing an intense migraine.

“Perhaps you should go lay down in a dark room if you feel so poorly, Mr. Allerdyce,” said Sebastian, with absolutely no compassion or concern.

“Fuck off, Shaw. I ain’t missin’ the celebration for anything. Mind yer business.” Fumbling blind, Pyro picked up the beer nestled in the sand next to him, and took a long pull.

“You really should rest, though,” Haven put in, her tone the exact opposite of Sebastian’s. “You did amazing things today. I know it took a lot out of you.”

“Awww, thanks luv. Couldna done it without your help.” Her gentle hands on his shoulders, her cool voice in his ear – it had created a pocket of calm in his chest that spread out to shrink the wildfires down to nothing.

“No, I didn’t really do anything at all,” Haven demurred.

“Yes, exactly!” Fabian chimed in. “She didn’t do anything! None of them did. That’s what I’ve been saying! I’m the one who charged all of your powers beyond your natural limits!”

“Thank you, Fabian,” said Haven, and only an experienced ear would hear the exasperation hiding under her usual gentleness. “You were extremely…” she paused for a moment, then decided the next word would not technically be a lie. “…brave. I know you were instrumental in our victory.” Cortez had, after all, dashed into the fray to charge up the mutants in direct conflict with the creature. And then just as quickly dashed back out again.

“Yeah, he did a great job not fighting at all,” Pyro grumbled. Haven laid a hand on his arm. There was no implied order or chastisement, but Pyro sighed deeply all the same.

“Thank you for your help, Fabian,” he forced out through gritted teeth.

“Thank you, my dear lady,” Fabian beamed, completely ignoring Pyro. He took and kissed Haven’s hand, suddenly a model of charm and chivalry. “Risking my life, fighting to my last breath, it’s all worth it for the appreciation of someone as beautiful and wise as yourself. If only you were not, sadly, a human, you would be an ideal candidate for the harem that the Council will no doubt assign me to further the mutant race. Once they come to their senses and realize the true significance of my accomplishments today.”

“Our accomplishments,” Madelyne corrected, rubbing her temples. After protecting the entire island from the telepathic backlash of the creature’s death throes (which would have killed most people in range and left the survivors irreparably insane), she was dealing with quite the headache herself. She remembered how Haven had held her hand in the moment, providing an anchor against the tidal wave of psychic energy that had threatened to sweep Madelyne away.

“And enough of this nonsense about a harem,” Sebastian scoffed. “The Council has not resorted to assigning partners and forced unions. And even if they did, you would be the last one chosen to pass on your genes. Some of us have real power. Some of us have already proven our ability to create powerful offspring, even if their character leaves much to be desired.”

“So you acknowledge that I’m powerful, Father?” Shinobi asked, more sharp than hopeful. “I did strike the killing blow. I believe you were unconscious at the beach at that time.”

“I acknowledge your basic competence,” Sebastian conceded reluctantly. “You did what the situation required.”

“By which you mean phasing an entire ocean liner through the monster’s body,” Shinobi pressed. “I doubt Pryde could have pulled that off.” Kitty Pryde had, of course, once phased a massive bullet through the entire Earth, but Shinobi considered that irrelevant to the conversation at hand.

“It was very impressive!” Haven assured him. “I only wish we could have communicated with the creature and found a peaceful resolution….but you did what needed to be done.” It had taken the combined efforts of Storm, Iceman, Meggan and every other mutant with weather or water-control abilities, plus telekinetics putting up a force shield to keep the island from being swamped by tsunami as the creature thrashed and died. Even Aqueduct, a human visiting his former team-mate Sunstreak on Krakoa, had stepped up to help, despite his past as a terrorist and criminal. The one silver lining of the day’s horrors had been how so many people had come together, selflessly working to protect the island. Even Fabian Cortez.

“And of course, that impressive feat would have been impossible without me, charging you up, pouring my own life energy into you. I could have died.”

“If only,” Maddie muttered.

“I believe I’ve already thanked you for your contribution,” Shinobi drawled. (He had not). “But I’ll send you a card if it’s so important.”

“I think that would be the very least you could,” Fabian sniffed. “Although I’d expect better from someone with such wealth and connections.”

“You know, I think Cortez has a point,” Pyro began. “There is someone that we need to thank for helping us today. Someone who’s been overlooked – “

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Fabian interrupted, nodding sagely.

“Not you, ya plonk. Haven.” Pyro pointed in completely the wrong direction.

“I’m over here, St. John,” said Haven softly. “And there’s no need for-“ Whatever she said next was drowned out by Fabian’s strangled cry of outrage.

“I couldn’t have put out those fires without your support. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind, but you helped me get there,” Pyro said.

“And you kept me grounded while I was dealing with the psychic wave. Thank you for that,” Madelyne added.

“You’re the one who organized the evacuation of that ocean liner,” Shinobi offered. “I mean, I would have still used it, but it might have broken that pesky little ‘kill no man,’ law. Thanks for the support, Haven.” He raised his glass in her direction.

“Normally, I would not indulge in this kind of sentimental nonsense,” Sebastian said. “But you did pull me and Miss Renko from the water after the creature knocked us out. Drowning would have been rather inconvenient. I’m a man who acknowledges my debts, and I thank you.” Claudine had gotten the worst of it, and was still unconscious in the infirmary, but Elixir assured them that she would make a full recovery.

“My goodness. You’re all so kind, there’s really no need for this,” Haven exclaimed, her hands on her cheeks as a dark blush spread over them.

“Yes, there is. You spent the entire battle in the line of fire, helping wherever you could. Even with no powers, you were there by our sides. That deserves acknowledgement,” Madelyne insisted. She could understand the feeling. Standing powerless beside comrades (and against enemies) that could knock down buildings, feeling like a useless fool, but charging in all the same. Doing whatever you could, because that was everyone’s duty, wasn’t it? To do what you can. She’d been so innocent back then, and the memory tugged at her with a sweet sadness.

“Thank you,” Haven whispered, as the group all raised glasses (or bottles) to toast her. “You’re the ones who saved the day, I just….helped where I could. I was proud to support you, and I’m sure Mr. Cortez feels the same way…” She stretched out her hand, ready to share the moment with him.

But Fabian had already stalked off angrily down the beach.

Notes: Sorry for leaving Claudine out, I’m unsure of how to write her and couldn’t fit her into the scene. I don’t know if Sunstreak is actually a mutant, but I wanted an excuse for an Aqueduct cameo. I have no idea what they were fighting – some kind of Lovecraftian cosmic horror, minus the racism. Maybe it was just a giant fire-breathing crab.

#haven #fabian cortez #sebastian shaw #shinobi shaw #madelyne pryor #adventures in the corteztwins' cinematic universe

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panda-noosh · 6 years ago

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hiiiiii. so, is it okay if I request a soft, fluff/angst prompt with Keith and fem reader? maybe he says something that she takes the wrong day and she like avoids him, and he's wondering why but then Pidge makes him realize (probably knocks some sense into him) and he apologizes and it's just really cute ajdjsjdjsj

Keith frowned.

With narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, he watched as you walked right past him and out of the room, not even sparing him a single glance as you did so.

That was… certainly odd.

He tried not to think about it. That was the Keith Kogane way - pretending it didn’t happen and moving on with his life. It was easier than dwelling, and perhaps there was a reason behind your sudden shift in mood.

Because it certainly had been a big shift in mood. Only this morning Keith had woken up to you curled up against his side, your head buried under his arm as you groaned and grabbed for his hand when he tried to stand up. Only this morning you had wound your arms around his middle as he was brushing his teeth, had sleepily grumbled, “Good morning,” before pressing your staple kiss to the area just below his ear. It had only been this morning when the two of you were like two kids in love.

So why were you ignoring him now?

The question was a heavy one, and one he didn’t let himself ponder over for too long. It would only drive him nuts, and he didn’t have the time nor the patience to worry about something so simple just yet. He would ask you if you were okay later on, after he’d dealt with the days hectic schedule.

And that is exactly what he did. Even with the weight pressing down on his chest and the worried glances he sent in your direction at any point he was able, he still had a schedule to stick to, and stick to it he did. He and Hunk went on a mission, picking up a few bits and pieces from the grocery shop on some unknown planet as they did so. He and Shiro discussed formation plans in the back room for a good two hours, and though Keith’s head wasn’t entirely concentrated on the meeting at hand, he was proud of himself for getting it over with when he walked out of the room.

And saw you across the hall.

It was his natural response to smile and start walking towards you; that was something that had never, and would never change. When he saw you, it was like he was drawn to you, like you were his reward for getting through such a tedious and boring business meeting.

Your eyes met his. You had definitely seen him. Keith waited a second, waited to see if your face would light up in the same way his had, in the way he was so used to.

You span on your heel and started in the other direction.

Keith faltered, very nearly falling over his own footing with the surprise and the confusion that crashed into his system at a hundred miles per hour; there was no mistaking what had just happened there. You had made direct eye contact with him, had seen him walking towards you, and then you had turned and fled as if Keith carried some harsh disease that you were afraid of catching.

He was standing in the middle of the hallway, his jaw agape and chest tight. He had the urge to go after you, ask you what he had done wrong, but he simply stood there, trying to figure out what it was he had done wrong.

Pidge sauntered up beside him, appearing out of nowhere as she often did.

“You finally noticed, huh?”

He raised a brow, broke his eyes away from the area you had once been standing so he could glance down at the small girl beside him. “Did I … Was it me?”

Pidge rolled her eyes, grabbed Keith’s hand and started down the hallway. “Let me tell you a little something about girls, Mr Kogane…”

+++

Keith furrowed his brows, resisting the urge to duck his head in his hands.

How had he been so stupid?

Pidge shrugged, idly leaning back against her chair. Her feet were propped upon the table, a cup of steaming tea in her hand that she had microwaved half a dozen times during her small explanation of why you were angry at him.

Of course, by the end of the discussion, Keith was made to feel stupid. He was stupid for not picking up on it in the first place - he should know you better than that. He should have caught himself before he had said anything, because he knew how much you hated feeling inferior to other people.

“So basically, to cut a long story short,” Pidge drawled, sipping at her tea, “you telling her to take the day off and let you handle everything was quite the shock. You know how she feels when people act like she can’t do her own job.”

Keith closed his eyes. “She was just so tired this morning. I thought I was helping out!”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t.” Pidge shrugged. “I honestly don’t blame her. Us girls have it hard enough working on a ship with a bunch of men who think they can do everything better than us. It’s not exactly a good feeling whenever the people we’re meant to be in partnership with treat us the exact same as everyone else.”

“I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t. I’m guessing that’s the only reason you haven’t apologised to her yet.”

Keith sighed and slumped back against his own chair, idly reaching for Pidge’s tea and taking a swig of it before she could protest. “How would I even start?”

“Whenever I’m apologising to someone, I like to start off by saying sorry.”

Keith shot her a glare. The younger girl simply shrugged, snatching her tea back and setting it on the table. Even though she said it with a tone of amusement, Keith knew she was right - Pidge was almost always right, which was a most infuriating characteristic for her to have, considering she used it the majority of the time.

He stood up at long last. He wasn’t entirely sure just how much longer he could stand being on bad terms with you - it wasn’t normal. Sure, you two argued and you fought, but Keith prided himself on the fact that he would never purposefully hurt your feelings. The mere idea of you thinking that he thought of you as any less than the star you were made his chest clench with a need to just say sorry.

And that was how he found himself walking into your shared bedroom on this particular day, not even trying to feign casualness when he saw you sitting at the desk with the piles upon piles of paperwork littered around you - paperwork that was your job to handle, paperwork that Keith could never sort through without getting a migraine from the stress of it all.

How could anyone truly believe they could do this job better than you?

You looked up at the sound of the door opening, face immediately falling upon catching a glimpse of Keith standing in the doorway. He smiled awkwardly, rubbing the messy hair at the back of his head.

“Hello,” he said. Anything to get the ball rolling.

I like to start off by saying sorry.

Keith winced. “I’m - uh - I’m sorry. I came here to say I’m sorry. To apologise.”

You pursed your lips, didn’t say anything as you turned back to the pages littering the desk. You nudged your reading glasses further up the bridge of your nose, and Keith took your silence as a good sign - at least you hadn’t told him to go away.

He stepped further into the room, finally letting the door shut behind him.

“Y/N,” he said. “Please look at me.”

“I’m busy, Keith,” you replied. “I have a lot of stuff to get done today, and-”

“Can it not wait for a second?”

“No, it can’t. In case you forgot, the stuff I do for this ship is actually important and I can’t just get up and leave it to see to itself.”

Keith winced, silently cursing himself again. He needed to tread lightly. He’d already messed up once today, meaning anything he said now could very easily be turned against him. That was just how the human brain worked.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bed behind you. You didn’t turn to watch him, barely regarded him as the room was dunked back into a tension-filled silence, the only sound being the flipping of pages and the scratching of a pen against said pages.

The silence dragged on until even you couldn’t take it any more. Keith saw your fingers curl around your pen before you slammed the stationary down on the pile of papers and turned to look at him, an angry glint in your eye that startled Keith more than he liked to admit.

“Do you need something?” you demanded.

Keith sat up straight, taking this chance to finally get his point across. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

“It’s fine, now please just let me-”

“No, it’s not fine,” Keith cut in, mind once again rushing into overdrive. He needed you to stop being angry at him. He didn’t like it when you were angry at him. “You’re clearly still mad at me, and I’m not leaving this room until you genuinely love me again.”

“I do love you, Keith, but-”

“But you’re angry.” His voice flattened. “I don’t like it when you’re angry. That’s meant to be my thing. You’re supposed to be the happy one of us both.”

You faltered, lips twitching at the corners. Keith caught the expression only seconds before you composed yourself, but it was long enough for him to acknowledge that you were slowly cracking under his advances.

“That doesn’t really seem fair,” you mumbled. “I wanna be angry sometimes.”

“It’s not nice, you know, being angry. You’ll be much happier being your cheerful self.”

You looked away. “Who told you that what you said bothered me?”

“Pidge.”

“Of course.”

“But she was right, wasn’t she?” Keith leaned forward, hesitantly reached for your hands. He very nearly sighed an audible breath of relief when you let him wind his fingers through yours and rest them on your knees. “You thought that I meant I could do your job better than you.”

You winced. “Maybe I was overreacting-”

“No, you weren’t.” Keith shuffled forward, gently brushing his thumb along the back of your knuckles. “It’s ten times harder for a girl to be respected in an area of work like this one. I don’t blame you for being mad that the one person who is meant to support you unconditionally suggested he could do it better - but that wasn’t my intention, Y/N. I know for a fact that I would be absolutely slaughtered if I had to deal with this stuff all day.” He gestured towards the piles of paperwork. “But you do it like it’s nothing. I envy you for that.”

You swallowed thickly. “I know you support me. I guess it just gets a little tiring trying to prove myself to everyone just because … well, just because I don’t go out every day and shoot things. People tend to think I can just get replaced because my job is at a desk and not on the battlefield.”

“Nobody could replace you,” Keith assured, because he meant it. He meant it more than he had ever meant anything in his life, and he proved that by leaning forward and pressing his lips to your own.

It was only brief, as most kissed with Keith tended to be, but he made sure to put as much emotion into it as he could, gently reaching up and cupping your jaw as you hummed against his lips in that way you always did when the kiss was more pleasant than pleasuring.

He pulled away, dotted a single kiss against the space just below your ear, just like you had always done to him every morning. You flushed at the sudden show of familiar affection, looking up to meet his eyes.

He smiled warmly. “Do you believe me?” he asked quietly. “Because I mean it, Y/N. You’re irreplaceable.”

“Thank you, Keith.”

He nodded, slowly pulling away from you to flop back onto the bed. “Now, since you’re so busy, I guess I’ll just have to cuddle with the pillows until you’re finished. All on my own.”

You frowned, glanced back at the pile of paperwork you still had to sort through. You turned back to Keith, raised a brow to which he responded to by grinning from ear to ear, opening his arms wide in invitation.

You rolled your eyes. “You really are a child, Keith Kogane.”

“Bring it in, my dear.”

#vld request #request

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higuchimon · 5 years ago

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[fanfic] Evil Taming Evil

Collection Title: Under Comet's Tale||Title: Evil Taming Evil Characters: Juudai, Evil Heroes||Ship: N/A Collection: 5-6||Story: 1-1||Words: 3,093 Genre: Drama||Rated: G Challenges: Diversity Writing, GX canon, I24, 1-shot collection centering around 1 person: Juudai Notes: Again, during Juudai’s rule over Dark World. Summary: It’s time for Haou to acquire the Evil Heroes. But do they want to be acquired?

Golden Pegasus wasn’t a servant. Golden Pegasus was transportation. At least that was what Golden Pegasus told Juudai when he made arrangements to depart from his castle and locate the hidden village of the Evil Heroes.

“If they’re going to complain because you didn’t walk every step of the way, then destroy them. Don’t let them set the rules. You are Haou. You rule this world and you’re giving them the chance to help you do it. If they don’t know that, then teach them. Now get on.” Golden Pegasus stamped one hoof, his tail swishing magnificently as he stared at his liege.

Juudai considered that for only a few moments before he indicated for one of the local stable-hands to bring the saddle and other equipment. Golden Pegasus brought his own gear when he’d arrived at the castle, bluntly announcing that he would carry Haou-sama anywhere that he needed to go.

Once the riding gear had all been cinched into place, Haou swung himself into the saddle. He’d never ridden any sort of horse before coming here and didn’t bother questioning why he could do it now. If he thought on it too hard, his head ached, and he had enough issues without starting a migraine.

He knew the stallion wasn’t the most offensive of warriors, but Golden Pegasus did have the advantage of flight. If anything happened, he would be able to get out of there quicker than almost anyone else, and take Haou with him.

So now Haou soared over the land, watching for the landmarks that indicated his destination, and circling the area where his targets waited for his arrival, knowingly or not. He could feel the Elemental Heroes in his deck; they weren’t very happy but they weren’t protesting. Maybe they knew better, after seeing what he’d done to the Neo-Spacians.

He didn’t like his deck being upset with him, since his bond with it meant his ability to win duels in this world was at risk. But they weren’t protesting and so far they hadn’t really let him down.

He put those thoughts to the side as Golden Pegasus landed in front of what seemed like a long stretch of pale, shadow-dappled woodlands. A tiny stream rippled through the area, with random rocks poking up here and there through the ground. To the ordinary eye it seemed bland and uninteresting. None of the trees carried the slightest bit of fruit, and at best might have served for shade or firewood. The stream might have fish in it – he didn’t feel even the slightest urge to check – but given how slender it was, he doubted it.

Golden Pegasus leaned forward, dipping one wing to allow him to dismount. “This is it,�� he murmured. “Best of luck, Haou-sama.”

Haou stood straight, tugging his cape around himself before he strode a handful of steps forward, the corners of his mouth turned downward. He wanted to deal with this as soon as he could.

“Evil Heroes,” he declared, voice echoing faintly from the surrounding territory. The words tumbled forth naturally, as if he’d been born to come here and claim them. “I am Haou. I’ve chosen you to add to my deck.”

Nothing but silence responded at all. Haou’s eyes narrowed. He’d not come here to be ignored. Shadows curled and danced around, then lashed forward to a place some distance in front of him, cracking against something that he couldn’t see.

But not seeing it didn’t mean it wasn’t there, and he sent the shadows to strike again. A huge booming sound resonated, then a sudden crack whistled around. Haou could see something now. It required more attention, but something hung broken in front of him.

A gate. He stared harder at it and then called on the shadows once again, now to slide themselves in between the gates to grip and twist. A little more effort resulted in the gates shattering, torn wide apart, and tossed to the side.

He wasn’t certain on how he was able to do this, but he wasn’t sure if he cared. He vaguely recalled a few words the Neo-Spacians said back when he first met them, but he wasn’t sure if that really applied here. It could just be this world.

Anyway. He could do it. He’d done it. Now he moved forward to cross into the area hidden by the gates. Golden Pegasus stood where he was, but Haou clearly heard him chuckling under his breath. If he hadn’t wanted to get this done, he would have wanted to know what was so amusing.

He saw them the moment that he crossed the threshold of the gate. One moment they weren’t there, the next he crossed and there they stood. One of them stood to the forefront – a female monster, garbed all in red and black, but not quite like Burst Lady.

“Evil Heroes.” His gaze rested on each one for a few seconds.

The one in the front tilted her head forward. It wasn’t much of a salute as it as a mild sort of acknowledgment of his existence.

“Haou.” Her gaze flicked over him before turning away to her companions, the faintest of quirks to one eyebrow. Whatever silent question she asked, Haou didn’t care. He’d come here for a purpose.

“I want your cards. You’ll be a part of my deck.”

The first of the Evil Heroes moved forward a single step. “Is that so, Haou-sama?” Her lips curved into a quick smile, her words laced with mocking laughter. “I would ask that you duel us to convince us, but we would rather not die – or kill you.”

Haou brought his shoulders up high and strong. “There are more ways than one to fight.” He didn’t wait for another second. He’d presumed all along that he would have to do something of this sort before he managed to claim the Evil Heroes.

Again the shadows darted forward, this time cracking across the one who stood before him. She spread her wings and leaped into the skies, avoiding his attack before it could contact. She spun a heartbeat later and feathers flashed forward, striking at him.

He let them. His armor protected him and he hadn’t yet lifted his visor. Those feathers that struck the ground and rocks sent up shards of stone that would’ve torn into him if he’d been unarmored. Again his shadows surged, this time coiling forward to wrap around the Evil Hero, or attempting to. Again she swooped out of range.

Haou needed to think fast. The shadows twisted and he sent them arching down to the other Evil Heroes. They scattered quickly, some more than others, and he just managed to catch one or two of the dozen who stood there. He tightened the grip to the point that they cried out, and wondered at how he’d rather enjoyed that.

A shriek of rage caught his attention and he looked up in time to see the first Evil Hero diving toward him and another one – a slender blue-armored one with two sets of sharp viscous claws – charging over the ground. In the space of a heartbeat Haou caused the shadows to surge up, wrapping around these attackers, too fast for them to get out of it this time, given how hard they focused on trying to get to him.

This wasn’t all of them by any means. The ones he hadn’t yet caught milled a little farther back, murmuring to one another. None of what Haou could hear assured him they planned to do anything pleasant.

That didn’t surprise him, either. They wouldn’t be easily tamed. Haou realized perhaps a bit belatedly that he liked that. He’d never fought like this before to get a deck or an addition to his deck. Before, he’d just.. picked the cards from a pile of purchased packs. Or he’d met them in Neo-Space and they’d joined his deck willingly.

But not like this.

“You call this a fight, Haou?” The first evil Hero demanded. “Not allowing us to fight back?”

Haou didn’t bother to smile. He wasn’t in the mood for it. Not that he ever was anymore. Instead, he stared at this creature, eyes bright as twin suns.

“You’ll be a part of my deck. I’ve chosen you.” He waited no more, but crashed every one of them that he’d captured as hard as he could against the ground, before calling on the shadows stretching before him to strike those Evil Heroes who hadn’t yet been caught, sending them spiraling against the rocks and trees he could see there.

He could hear the cries of pain and murmurs of agony and paid them no attention. These were Evil Heroes. This was the language that they understood.

Step by step he moved farther into their village, eyes flicking around, a sudden thought occurring to him before he released all of the Evil Heroes. The moment the first one caught her breath, she surged towards him. Haou stopped that with a look, before he turned his gaze onto the village he could see here.

If they don’t have anywhere else to go, they’ll come to me.

A simple, very effective plan. He’d used it before in other places. He’d never done it alone before, but now it seemed like the easiest of actions to have the shadows within each cottage rise up and begin to rip the places apart from the inside out. Moment by moment the shadows reached out to one another, joining together and shattering the village until there wasn’t anything left of them.

This happened so fast that there wasn’t any time for the Evil Heroes themselves to react. Haou didn’t want them to react – only to see what he was capable of doing and what he’d done.

As the noise from shattered stone died off, replaced by most chilling silence, the Evil Heroes stopped moving. Haou stared at them in silence, waiting for what he knew was coming next.

“I am Evil Hero Inferno Wing,” she said at last, bending her head with far more respect than ever before. “We’ve been aware of your presence since you entered this world.” Her eyes met his directly. “Yuuki Juudai.”

Haou pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Don’t call me that.” He didn’t need to hear that name ever again. Yuuki Juudai spent his time fooling around and got almost all of his friends killed. Haou wasn’t going to do that. Haou didn’t have friends and the ones that had been his friends wouldn’t like him anymore.

Which wasn’t going to stop him from protecting them no matter what. That brought it all back to claiming the Evil Heroes for himself anyway.

Inferno Wing bent her head again. “As you say. But you wish our deck. You do have Elemental Heroes. We can feel them.”

Again he bent his head. He didn’t bother to mention the Neo-Spacians.

Inferno Wing gestured to herself. “I am the result of a combination of Elemental Hero Featherman and Elemental Hero Burst Lady.” She indicated another one. “This is Evil Hero Infernal Sniper, created from Elemental Hero Clayman and Burst Lady.” The one with blue armor and claws subjected himself next. “This is Evil Hero Malicious Edge.”

She introduced the others – Evil Hero Hell Brat, Evil Hero Dark Gaia, Evil Hero Hell Gainer, and several others, almost all of them the twisted mirror images of the Elemental Heroes that he knew. Each of them slowly and reluctantly knelt before him, murmuring his title.

“There are other cards that you’ll need for us to work with your deck,” Evil Hero Inferno Wing told him. She tugged a small stack of cards from somewhere underneath her armor. “This, especially, will be the key card of your new deck.”

He looked to see a fusion card he’d never seen before: Dark Fusion. Power seethed through it; not quite on the same level of Super Fusion, though. Super Fusion’s power resonated with the sense of all the lives that pulsed into it. Dark Fusion’s energy was something else altogether, the feel of darkness.

Haou took the cards and added them all to his deck. He would have to sort through them to get a feel for the way this new deck would work and to consider his new strategies.

“We did have someone for you to fight,” Inferno Wing said at last. “But I think you had other plans.”

Haou didn’t think he actually smiled. It came a little close, though. As close as he ever came. “Who?”

“This.”

Inferno Wing held out one more card to him, face-down. Haou accepted it, staring at it for a breath before he turned it over, wondering who their champion might be.

What he saw startled him. It had been weeks – maybe even close to months – since he’d seen this face. There were differences, of course. The one that he remembered had been mature and wise, with blond hair and warm eyes, even when he was at his sternest.

The one that he saw now had blue-tinted skin and brilliant scarlet eyes, hands with long, sharp claws, white hair, and armor of black and gold instead of silver and gold, the cloak a darker shade of green.

But the name written across the top was heartrendingly familiar.

Freed.

Dark General Freed, not the Brave Wanderer. There was a difference of age, but enough similarities so that Haou could see one in the other. His breath caught in his throat as he touched the card.

But there wasn’t a spirit there at all. He raised his eyes to meet those of Inferno Wing.

“He’s not there.”

“So I’ve noticed.” Inferno Wing’s lips wrinkled in a gesture that wasn’t any more of a smile than his own. “One of the other reasons he couldn’t fight for us. But the card itself turned up when Hell Brat traded for some cards a few weeks ago – before you came to this world. There were others that you might find useful as well.”

That got a bit of a quirked eyebrow of his own. Inferno Wing cleared her throat in an imperious fashion and slowly folk began to gather, emerging from the mountain rising behind the ruined village. He recognized quite a few of them.

Dark Elf – perhaps Heather would want to speak with her. Dark Valkyria – perhaps she’d make a good scout or spy, with those metallic wings. She resembled Yubel as well, and Haou didn’t want her anywhere around for that alone. There was also a huge feathered creature that he learned later was Darkness Simorgh, kin to Simorgh, Bird of Divinity, that Birdman used against him.

He’d not forgotten Birdman’s final words to him. They seared into his mind as much as Shou’s did, if only for different reasons.

The three of them all made their obeisance to him and he nodded. It would be quite pleasant to bring these back with him.

Though his eyes kept drifting back to the card without a spirit and he wondered time and time again what would happen if the card’s spirit found it. Or perhaps found him.

I don’t think it’s possible. Freed’s dead. At least the one that I know is.

He put the card away before he turned back towards Golden Pegasus. “Let’s go,” was all he said.

One by one the Evil Heroes vanished, sliding into the space wherever card spirits who had a duelist lived when they weren't in a duel. Dark Elf leaped aboard Darkness Simorgh, while Dark Valkyria joined the black-feathered bird in the air.

“Think you can keep up?” Golden Pegasus taunted as he spread his wings. Haou didn’t reprimand him; Golden Pegasus hadn’t had to carry him here and wait for him. That earned him a perk or two.

Dark Valkyria’s wings twitched in a clatter of steel and a quick smile flickered over her lips. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“Nor do I,” Darkness Simorgh agreed.

“I do. Because I know where I’m going and you have to follow me,” Golden Pegasus teased – after he’d already leaped into the air. He pumped his wings and soared forward, the other two following as quick as they could.

Haou wouldn’t have allowed such frivolity but other thoughts occupied him for now. The presence of the Evil Heroes in his deck gave him something more to think about. How were they and the Elemental Heroes getting along? Had the Elemental Heroes ever known the Evil Heroes existed? They’d never known about the Destiny Heroes, or at least not mentioned them, or the alternate fusions.

He didn’t think he’d ever asked, really. What didn’t he know because he didn’t know what or who to ask?

Should he try to figure that out or should he just do as he’d always done, barreling ahead to plow through all of the obstacles in his path? So far he knew that hadn’t worked too well. It led to everything he had to deal with now.

He’d work through it later. When he didn’t have so much to do and so much to worry about. When he’d crushed every scrap of resistance to his rule in this world and no one dared to do anything that he’d not granted permission for.

When it came to the myriad of matters that he didn’t want to think about, the point of this new Freed came first and foremost. It upset virtually everything else that he chose to ignore so very much – such as where Yubel might be, if they still existed at all, let alone where Shou, Jim, and O’Brien wandered off to, or the true nature of his powers and if he’d ever return to Earth.

That last one he’d already decided he never would. How could he face anyone that he knew there without the ones that he’d lost?

Instead he kept his mind on what he’d gained. The Evil Heroes. Three new servants that he could assign to important positions.

Yet of all that he acquired on this trip, it was Freed that refused to slip out of his mind the most. He told himself that it meant nothing; any attraction was only because of his experience with Freed the Brave Wanderer – the warrior who for the briefest of moments stood by him to defeat Zure.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that while there wasn’t a soul in that card, the spirit of Dark General Freed wasn’t all that far away, waiting for the chance to arrive.

The End

Notes: So, next week, the last story of the set. The arrival of Dark General Freed. And perhaps an explanation on where he went so that he wasn’t around when O’Brien, Ryou, Edo, and Shou stormed the castle.

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starfaring-princelotor · 6 years ago

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Best Friends

Summary: Lotor and his best friend discover the beginning of something new.

Pairings: Lotor x F!Reader

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I kindly ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Allura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. Thank you. ★

Warnings: Threats?

Future Sight___Historic Significance___No Time Like The Present___Thinking Ahead___Best Friends

Romelle’s eyes skimmed over the page, re-reading over the instructions carefully while she poured the rest of the contents of her cauldron down the drain. She let it sit out too long and now it was practically black, gooey sludge. Oh, the smell was unbearable, it nearly made her throw up dinner she had with Allura.

Speaking of, the Princess knocked on the bathroom door.

“Romie? Is everything okay?” bless her heart, she was concerned about her well-being.

Well, waking up a few hours before dawn to use the restroom would be a cause for worry. Romelle rinsed the cauldron with hot water, making sure to leave no evidence behind. Quickly, her wet hands closed the book then she shoved the pot in the corner, opting to let it dry for the rest of the day.

Once Romelle opened the door to see sleepy faced Allura, she couldn’t help but smile softly at her.

“Yes, I just had to clean that stinking cauldron,” with a gentle hand, she guided Allura back to bed, “And take care of a few...things.”

You weren’t doing too well.

Not at all. Grumpy wasn’t the right word to describe it. Sad? Maybe. Heartbroken? Yes. Yes, that was the feeling. Like you lost a close friend. It was hard not to think this way, think that your relationship with Lotor was coming to an abrupt end. He just needed time. That’s what he said, right? Time and space? But, damn it all, why did it hurt to be sitting on the sidelines like this?

Lotor never mentioned this before, how cold he can actually be. Maybe you really weren’t paying attention to him? Or maybe he was just too closed off to truly be comfortable with you? Maybe it was both of your faults? The turmoil of arguments in your head made you heavily sigh in defeat, an act that did not go unheard by the prefect sitting besides you.

“You know, food tastes better when you actually eat it,” Shiro bit off his own piece of bread, eyes watching you with slight mirth behind them, “And when it’s warm, too.”

You groaned and slumped in your seat, leaving the spoon under the smeared mashed potatoes, “I’m not hungry.”

Or at least, this meal wasn’t as enjoyable without your purple friend. The mindless conversation, critiquing each other’s eating habits, even sharing from the same bowl was fun. It seemed so...perfect, didn’t it? What changed? You wracked your brain for anything that could point you in the right direction, but alas, nothing popped up. Ah, there you go again, thinking too much.

“I miss Lotor.”

“The gremlin has to come out of his room sometime,” he tried to be lighthearted about it, but it didn’t even crack a smile from you, “There’s a potion for that, y’know. Changing into a gremlin. Interesting what you read ahead in the books.”

“There’s a potion for everything,” you counted off your fingers, “Toe fungus, pimples, that one where you can change your fingers into cat heads.”

“I heard there was one that can make you glow like a light bulb.”

Shiro would’ve said some cheesy punchline, something like “so you can brighten up his day,” but your despondent face told him that it would go in one ear and out the other. He rubbed his neck in uncertainty, not quite sure how to console a friend of a friend. There was an underlying reason he came to talk to you, though. Maybe one he thinks you might be able to help him with.

“Hey, mind if I...ask you something a bit personal?” he lowered his voice a bit.

A nod, a sad, sad look glazing over your eyes.

“Have you noticed anything...strange about Lotor? I mean, stranger than this. He usually isn’t this cold.”

You crossed your arms and buried your head in them, “I don’t think I really knew him at all.”

Shiro nodded solemnly, “If it’s any consolation, these past few months have been the most I’ve seen him smile.”

You peeked at him from underneath your hair, unsure if you heard him right. Yes, you, too, were happiest with him the last couple months, smiling and laughing and learning little bits about each other here and there. Like friends do. Like best friends do. Eyes bore into the now cold dinner in front of you as if it would somehow give you all the answers to your questions.

“I think that counts for something, don’t you?” Shiro laid a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Yes, you thought, it has to count for something.

Lotor’s fever was back, tenfold. To the public, it would look like he was just a little too warm with a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. Deep down, he was burning. It was barely tolerable as he knew this sickness will eventually pass. Just like his last one. The only odd thing about this was that fevers usually...do not come back so soon. He was on his way to the medical ward to get another potion from the nurse.

He needed more sleep. That was probably it, what with all his tossing and turning at night.

“Lotor?”

Oh no. Not who he wanted to talk to right now.

“Allura.”

Where was Madam…? Oh. Right. The one day she was out visiting family was the one day he needed help. Just his luck. No matter, things are in the past between them. At least, that’s how he saw it. Judging by the odd defensive look hidden behind her eyes, the Princess still felt a little suspicious around him. He wasn’t so sure if he liked that scrutinizing, almost acidic, gaze she gave him.

“What can I help you with?” she asked, straight to business, which he appreciated.

“It seems my fever has returned. I am in need of two more snowdrop potions.”

She opened a cabinet that had shelves with labeled vials, many of them varying in color, “Have you had any other symptoms? Headaches, soreness?”

“Migraines,” Lotor took a seat on a stool, suddenly feeling very dizzy, “Severe migraines.”

“I’ll grind some mandrake roots for you, they should help settle those - “

Was the room spinning? Why was it suddenly getting harder to breath? Lotor’s lungs were wheezing lightly and he tried blinking hard to get the blackness out of the corner of his eyes. No good, no good at all. He could feel his body start to lean forward against his will, hand reaching out to try and steady himself before he kissed the floor. All he managed to grab was the empty air as he collapsed in a weak heap at Allura’s feet, a groan of pain pushed out of his chest.

“Lotor!” she called out after hearing his body thump on the cold stone, kneeling down to help flip him onto his back, “Lotor, can you hear me? Lotor!”

The Princess pulled out her wand and lit the tip, hoping that it was bright enough for his pupils to follow. However, much to her horror, his gaze was stuck on the ceiling. Was he even conscious? Lotor was panting, trying so very hard to stay awake, but her voice was fading and so was the rest of the room. Stars, his head hurt like something fierce, like it was tearing itself apart in two.

“Father! Father, come quickly!”

The last thing he heard was the rushed footsteps clacking on the floor. The last thing he thought of was, well, suddenly his space felt very, very lonely without you besides him.

“Peppermint sprigs...porcupine quills...hm.”

What a strange list of ingredients for a potion, but who were you to argue on the weirdness that is magic? After Shiro’s cryptic question, you took it upon yourself to drown yourself in the good memories. Well, tried. The more you thought about the time you spent with Lotor, the happier parts, the lighter your heart felt. Yes, you still despised this…distance, but you had to keep to your word.

Give him space.

And if...when he returns, you were sure nothing would make him happier than a Happy potion. Right? Supposedly, it cures depression and, who knows, maybe you might take a little swig of it, too. Now, making it was another thing. Classes were over and there weren’t any potion professors on grounds, so you would have to play this by trial and error.

Doesn’t sound too hard. It’s just a Happy potion. Worst effect? You start singing too loudly or you end up tap dancing until midnight.

“What are you doing here?” came a voice from the opened door, making you turn to acknowledge the blonde staring directly at you.

“Um...making...potions?” you meant it to come out as a firm statement, but out of habit, you smiled guiltily like a caught thief, “You’re, uh, Rome...Romelle, right? Allura’s friend?”

She kept her gaze fixed for a few more seconds. It was a little unnerving, especially when her expression suddenly softened and she offered you a friendly, inviting smile. Romelle put the heavy cauldron in her arms off on one of the empty tables then plopped a seat besides you. She peered over to your book then hummed in thought.

“Happy potion, huh? What’s got you down?”

“Oh, no, not for me. Well, not ALL for me, anyways,” you turned the page, looking for the instructions and brewing time needed for it, “It’s for my friend. He hasn’t been...At least, I don’t think he’s been feeling too well the last couple weeks. Thought this might cheer him up.”

Romelle perched her elbow on the table, chin in her hand, “Well, aren’t you a good friend! I’m a bit of a potion master myself. Anything you need?”

Now, you returned a smile of your own, feeling proud of her compliments aimed to inflate your ego. You gave her a nod of thanks then shrugged sheepishly, finding her oddly over eager assistance a bit strange. If you needed help, you would ask. Ah. That’s...how it felt to say it out loud. A pang twitched in your chest, recalling back when those same words left Lotor’s mouth.

“Thank you, but I think I can handle it. Doesn’t seem too hard,” a soft way to tell her you weren’t as incompetent as you seemed.

That didn’t seem to be the answer she wanted to hear, though. Even if she was smiling and respectfully giving you your distance, there was a flicker of...annoyance behind her eyes. Oh no, did you come off too hard? Or...was it something you said? The anxieties started welling up in your mind again and just as you were about to close your book and pack up, figuring you could finish another day, Romelle gently slid her hand over yours.

You were sure this was supposed to be an act of kindness, of support, but it felt...wrong.

“If you need anything at all, do not be a stranger.”

As soon as she finished talking, she took a step back and left with a cheerful hum on her lips. You hand tingled. Not in a good way either. Not like when Lotor held your fingertips oh so gently while he led you in a dance. Not like when he helped you firmly grasp your wand correctly. Not like when his hand curled around yours to keep you warm in the chilly night.

You dearly missed your friend, your true friend. When you brought your hand to your chest, the plumpness of your palm accidentally skidded over the page. It turned, but not without leaving you with a thin paper cut from your careless attention. Immediately, you cradled your minor wound, not wanting to stain the pages, until your eyes landed on two words.

Hate Potion.

“How long?”

“Three days now. He can barely stomach soup without regurgitating it. I am not sure what seems to be causing his illness. This isn’t typical fever symptoms and my father is doing his own research to help.”

You needed to be alone with Lotor, but Shiro and Allura were right at his bedside. It felt weird, creeping like this, just outside the door and eavesdropping to see when they would leave. The book clutched to your chest and the vials in your pocket suddenly were too loud.

“Maybe there is something I can do to help,” Allura voiced with hope, “I will go aid my father in his research. Will you stay here and monitor him in the time being?”

“Sure, Allura. Thank you again for doing this. We’ll figure out what’s wrong with him. In the mean time, don’t push yourself too hard. He’s resilient. I should know.”

Yes, he was hinting at the strenuously long friendship he had, and will continue to have, with Lotor. The Princess’ heels clicked against the floor as she walked out, completely missing your body tucked behind the opened doors. Good. You weren’t sure if she would be too happy with what you found and...what your conclusions would insinuate.

“Shiro?” you peeked in, making sure it was just him, then your eyes landed on Lotor.

Your friend, he looked so pale with furrowed brows and eyes clenched shut, like he was having a bad string of dream. Standing besides the taller man, you silently asked him if he was okay, If he was going to BE okay. A fever wouldn't originally be a cause for too much concern, much like when you visited the purple prince in his rooms. But two?

It stung something deep to see him in such pain.

“Don’t worry, he’s come out from worse,” Shiro encouraged with a hand on your shoulder, “He’ll be fine. You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.”

Underlying meaning? If you’re still...uncomfortable around him after that harsh spat from weeks ago, you aren’t obligated to stay. It’s funny what a little time can do to the heart. Its funny what you came to realize that even if he didn’t want to be friends any longer, you still wanted to at least get some defined closure. But first, Lotor had to be awake to tell you this, tell you why, because you at least deserved an explanation that made sense. Hopefully, he had enough time on his own to come to the same thoughts.

“No, no, I wanted to see him. I didn’t think he was this sick,” you took a seat on a stool besides the bed, “Is he, I mean, can he hear us? I bought a book I thought he’d like to read. Or, er, or I’d read to him.”

Shiro offered you a thankful smile hidden behind a short chuckle. He got the hint. He knows when to leave, when to give you privacy for the sake of comfort. Though, now that the thought about it, perhaps your voice would be the one to wake him up. He’d take that chance, he likes those odds for his friend’s health.

“I’ll head to the mess hall to grab a bite. Should I bring you some?”

“No, no, I’ll be alright. Don’t think they have my pie in menu today.”

He walked out, trusting you to watch Lotor for the time being. It wasn’t until you no longer heard his footsteps did you scoot closer to the head of the bed. Those freckles looked dimmer than usual and his hair was slicked with dried sweat. Time to put your plan into action. Carefully, you opened to a specific page of your text, the one you bookmarked with a folded corner.

“Lotor…?”

No response. This time, you placed a hand on his and ran your thumb over his knuckles, ushering him to hear your plead.

“Lotor...Lotor, can you hear me?”

“Mm…” thin slits of nebulous eyes barely opened, but they instantly honed in on your face, “...Huh…?”

Good. He was somewhat coherent, if not dazed and dizzy. Lotor licked his parched lips and you got the hint right away. Grabbing a cup of water from the side table, you held it up to his mouth gently then waited as he took gulp fulls of the cool liquid. With how much he was sweating, he was no doubt dehydrated beyond tolerable levels.

Lotor turned slightly, signaling he was done, and leaned back into his pillow, “What...what are you doing here?”

Not...exactly the first thing you wanted to hear from him after being apart for nearly a month, but again, you had to remember this wasn’t about you. This was about your friend, your very sick friend who must’ve had a smidge of trust in you somewhere deep in his ill mind.

“I think you were poisoned,” you paused when his gaze gave no emotion, “I can’t be...100% sure, though. But if you could - if I could ask you something…”

Poisoned? Well, that certainly wasn’t the first, but this would be the first where he didn’t recognize his own symptoms. These were sneaky, slow-acting with fevers and migraines and severe dehydration. But he couldn’t piece together what exactly can cause this so quickly.

Stars, that look on your face, the meek, unsure, hesitant one. Why were you never confident in yourself?

You took his silence as a yes, “Do you remember drinking anything that tasted strange?”

“No.”

“Did you have...er, did you have mood shifts this frequently?”

A sharp glare and you nearly cringed away from him, but he answered honestly, “...No.”

“When did you start not feeling well?”

“Three weeks ago.”

Your eyes going down the symptom list weren’t happy with the information you were getting from him. Not at all and the questions you had in mind would only get more personal here on out. Hopefully, he won’t shut you completely out again, or worse. Send you away with another argument.

“When you...sniffed the love potion - “ “So, that is what this is about.”

“Lotor, no, I promise, this isn’t - it isn’t about that. If someone was poisoned by a hate potion, they would feel nauseated because of the counter effects of different ingredients in the love potion - “ “It was you,” Lotor mumbled, and you swear your heart skipped a beat, “I could smell you and it made me sick to my stomach.”

If you weren’t thinking of his potential sickness, perhaps those words would’ve cut your heart into pieces. Instead, you remained silent, questioning over, and ruffled for one of the vials in your bag. The pinkish liquid swirled slowly between you two and Lotor instantly knew what it was. He was stuck between feeling disgusted and oddly hopeful.

“I know...I know it doesn’t sound solid, but the book here says a love potion can help nullify the effects of the poison,” you explained before putting the vial on the bedside drawer, “I know its illegal, I know I can get in trouble for this, but here. It’s your choice and I won’t - you know I won’t think any differently of us whatever you choose.”

There were words on his tongue, but none came out. Again, you were over caring again, going the distance when he told you to stop. Or perhaps, this isn't what it seems at all. Someone succeeded in poisoning him, messing with his damn emotions, and messing with the two of you. Now, he had to wonder what would happen if he drank it. Would he still push you away? Or would all these seething emotions cease to exist? Would he return to normal? What was normal?

Risk. Again, too much risk, and he didn’t like it. You left him alone to his thoughts.

Lotor drank the potion discreetly, not wanting Allura or even her father to know how he magically healed within a few days. It was a Christmas miracle, Professor Alfor said. The Prince would let him think that for now, at least, until he can safely secure both of your asses from getting in trouble.

The potion worked. Slowly. Gradually, his unreasonably pessimistic thoughts began clearing from his mind. No longer was just thinking about you giving him a headache. No longer did he catch himself constantly annoyed whenever he thought about the times you two spent together. No longer did he keep the shared journal stored away in his drawer.

“Allura, may I have a moment?”

And no longer was he going to stand aside when he knew damn well who poisoned him.

“Of course, do you need something?”

“No, no, not with you,” Lotor’s cold gaze drifted to the blonde standing besides her, “You. I wish to have a word with you, Romelle.”

He would applaud her on the brave mask she wore. It was no mystery to him who slipped a drop of hate potion in his drink when he wasn’t paying attention. He never liked black tea and now he had a new reason for it. Allura, sensing the tense situation, sought to stand between Lotor and her friend.

“Is there going to be a problem?” the Princess asked firmly, challenging Lotor’s stare.

“No, nothing of the sort. I simply wish to ask a few questions. Private questions.”

Private. Meaning without her around. Romelle placed a hand on Allura’s shoulder, a way to temper and silently reassure her that everything will be okay. The Princess always was the first to help in a confrontation when those she cared about were concerned. The hero type, always jumping head first without all the facts and Lotor wasn’t here to bother filling her in.

“You have my word, I am merely here for conversation.”

“Go. I’ll meet you in the library,” Romelle ushered and finally, Allura acquiesced.

However, Lotor’s piercing glare never left Romelle’s face. He was studying her, trying to find a crack in her facade, anything that would point to her being innocent. Jealousy was a powerful tool that can drive even the most soft, kind-hearted to do despicable, horrific things.

“Why did you do it?”

Romelle tilted her head to the side, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“In divination class, you slipped a hate potion in my tea,” he explained calmly, as if talking about fair weather and approaching cold front, “You let the bitterness cover the taste.”

“Hate potion? Lotor, I really have no clue - “

“You did not clean your cauldron as well as you thought, wench.”

Now, Romelle’s eye twitched at not only the insult, but the rightful anger laced in his tone. Impossible. She cleaned her cauldron spick and span. There was nothing left but water. Either way, she stood her ground in front of Lotor. He had no proof, he had to be bluffing. Yet, there was still part of her that was on edge. Teetering on the “What if…”

“Hate potion residue glows blue in the dark when dusted with moonstone dust,” he took a step forward, she took one back, “unless washed with beetroot juice, it is a permanent stain on whatever surface it touches. Did you forget that bit of information in your grand plan?”

“I did what I had to,” she admitted, no shame, no guilt.

“I will ask this only once more: why did you do it?”

There it was. That burning, eternal flame of rage glossing in her soul. She would burn him, burn everyone around her, burn those she loves, burn Allura, just to seek revenge on him. He only wondered how long until that fire consumes her very being. Lotor narrowed his lids, daring her to speak the truth.

“You don’t deserve to be happy.”

The Prince raised his chin, judging her glowering face ready to bite into him like a rabid, furious animal.

“You don’t deserve to be happy after what you did to Allura. You broke her heart. You tricked her.”

“I know what kind of person she is. I know how gullible her heart is. I know she trusts you to be kind just because you two are close friends,” Lotor had what he needed, he had the evidence tucked neatly in the back of his mind, “I know I broke her heart. And now, you will break hers, too.”

Romelle’s back hit against the stone wall, suddenly aware he was towering over her with venom seething from his every word. She wanted to punch him. Fight him, here and now, make him feel how painful it was to pick Allura back up when she was at her lowest. Listen to all the regret and sorrow the Princess would whisper in her deep sleep.

“Either you tell Allura what you did or I will,” Lotor leaned back, his menacing aura giving her room to breath, “Consider this a fair trade for hurting my best friend.”

Either way, the truth would be her downfall.

As much as he wanted to report her, get her expelled for poisoning him directly, Lotor knew seeking revenge would only waste his time. Right now, he had to see you, talk to you, explain himself in hopes you would understand. You didn’t deserve to be attacked by the mistakes of his past relationships.

Sleep barely came to you that night. A full moon was supposed to be the most peaceful of them all, yet your mind was anything but peaceful right now. You wondered if Lotor drank it. You wondered if he did and if he felt better. You wondered if anything could help him where you could not. You wondered if he still wanted his space. Sighing, you turned on the other side of your bed only to be met with a glowing, blue journal.

Lotor? Lotor was...he was talking to you? Immediately, you reached over and opened the book where you last finished writing to him. His familiar handwriting began scribbling three little words.

Black Lake. Tonight.

You didn’t need to be told twice. It was a blur, slipping on warm clothes, pocketing your trusty thermal stone, tucking the thick scarf around your neck, then rushing down the halls as quietly as you can. Maybe you should consider yourself lucky for not getting caught with how loud your boots echoed on the floor. By the time you arrived, you could already see his tall physique standing in the distance, back towards you.

“L...Lo - huff...Lotor?” you were panting slightly from running in the cold and all your friend did to acknowledge you was raise a silver brow, “I - huff, huff - give me a sec…”

He placed a hand on your shoulder, the familiar touch warming you instantly, “You need not over exert yourself for my sake.”

“I know, I know, I just...I have no excuse, really,” you wanted to add that you missed him, but you were surprised by the next words that came out of his mouth.

“I understand. I missed you, too.”

Now, you stood awkwardly, eyes looking everywhere but his face. The time apart, it didn’t deter your feelings for him, but it felt...weird. Changed, but for the better? You weren’t so sure. Lotor sensed this and took a deep breath. Come clean. She is your friend. Your best friend. Tell her this or you will lose her forever.

“I...I lied to you.”

“...Huh?”

He looked up to the stars, please, help me, then back down at you. Gentle hands reached for yours and he upturned your palm, seeing the scar embedded there in the center. He had the same mirroring his own hand and, faintly, he thought destiny must have a funny way of showing him how friends are made.

“Allow me to explain. Do you remember when I told you what I saw in the mirror? About how I saw myself with someone I deeply cared about?” he stroked the jagged skin with his thumb, reminiscing that fateful day long ago, “I saw you in the reflection. We were both so happy and I...hesitated telling you this because…”

Because? He had his reason, none of them seeming valid right now.

“I have no reason why I did not tell you. Maybe I was scared about what I saw. Maybe I did not want my future to be set in stone.”

“Lotor, c’mon, that was ages ago. I don’t care about what that dumb mirror showed you. Why would I get mad about that? You have your secrets, that’s fine, and - “

“Please,” he ushered, the bravery to speak so openly about how one mistake led to another starting to make him clam up, “You must understand. After the mirror showed me what could be, how happy I could be with you, I began questioning myself. Questioning you, questioning us. I do not regret all those times we spent together. Not one bit. But, I do regret that...I did not know what this was truly telling me.”

This? This being his heart, the one he placed your hand to cover on his chest. Now, you were blushing and a little speechless.

“Say something,” Lotor’s eyes searched yours, hoping against hope that you didn’t hate his guts for isolating himself away from you, “Anything.”

But what COULD you say? A whole months worth of thoughts suddenly became quiet, abandoning you when you needed them most.

“When we finished those love potions, I had a feeling it would be you. I just...wasn’t aware of myself. I didn’t know what to do when I realized I like - I love spending time with you, Lotor. I feel like a better me.”

You dug your mouth under your scarf, a nervous habit hoping it would hide you completely.

“You were right. About before. If I paid more attention to you, I would’ve seen you were sick much earlier on and - and I could’ve helped sooner. I know you wanted space and I’ll give you as much as you want. Just - I want you to feel better, too. A better you. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. Yes, I believe I do undersatnd,” a shadow of darkness covered his eyes, “Even now, I still feel unsure about what this means. We are...best friends, still, yes? And yet, I am wondering if these feelings I have are honest. Ever since the mirror lured me with a future of love and happiness, I doubt myself, and I would never, ever, want to have these uncertainties come between us.”

Lotor was a man who loved with all his being or none at all.

He reached one hand within his coat and pulled out a rose. A black rose. Of course, your gaze landed on the flower, eyes glazed in fascination of the dark plant, before he openly offered it to you. At first, you took it to examine its qualities. The thorns were gone and the gentle bud was barely starting to open into a bloom. Your fingers traced over the petals, the soft, smooth petals, and you let out a curious hum.

“This is for you. I wish to give this to you. As a sign of my…”

Affections? Appreciation? Infatuation?

“My attraction to you.”

Oh, where was his silver tongue now?

“Ah...I - erm…” your cheeks were tinted in a lovely hue of pink as you realized he was still cupping your hands in his, “Lotor, if this is about, y’know, the other night - I mean, it’s, you don’t have to feel obligated to...you know that, right? I did it to help you and all, but you don’t have to - mmf, how do I say this? I’m not...I don’t know where to go from here.”

Wait. Were you rejecting him?

“I, hold on -no - I know how that sounds,” you let out a frustrated sigh, having a difficult time finding your words, just like he was, “I guess...why are you offering this to me?”

“Dear, I am giving this to you in hopes that you would allow me to learn about you. And, in the process, I hope we can become something...more than what that mirror promised me. Something real, something I can experience in the present.”

Lotor wanted to break away from the deep, obsessive infatuation, rooting in his mind and instead explore what was hidden underneath. He knows he felt it, before the hate potion, before the dance, before he even took you stargazing. It was there, he just needed to reach far and feel it grow in his hand.

“Are you, uh...you sure you want to do that?”

“With some exasperation, yes. Yes, I am sure.”

The Prince leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours in a soft plea. You, too, were gazing into his eyes with a smidge of love buried somewhere in your soul. This felt...calm. Peaceful, much different than the times you two cuddled under a blanket or riding his broom at night. It felt...freeing. No bars held back. No bricks blocking each other. No mirror telling him where his heart should lie.

“If I am to be with you, have a future with you, I wish it to be on my own terms, dear. Our own terms,” he slowly slid his eyes closed, mind only thinking about the potential, the work, the love he knew was in store, “If you will have me, that is.”

Tucking your head under his chin, you gladly nestled your face on his chest, only slightly aware that your eyes were wet.

“Of course, Lotor. What are best friends for?”

#lotor x reader #and done!#i love best friends in a beginning relationship #spacestories #also black roses have a good symbolism #1.) obsession #2.) beginning of something new #also my bad i forgot it was fandomday #what with s8 and all

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